THE PIONEERS. OR THE SOURCES OF THE SUSQUEHANNA; A DESCRIPTIVE TALE. BY
THE AUTHOR OF “PRECAUTION.” Extremes
of habits, manners, time and space,
Brought close together,
here stood face to face,
And gave at ones a
contrast to the view,
That other lands and
ages never knew.
The length of our
friendship would be a sufficient reason for prefixing your name to these pages;
but your residence so near the scene of the tale, and your familiarity with
much of the character and kind of life that I have attempted to describe,
render it more peculiarly proper. You, at least, dear Sutherland, will not
receive this dedication as a cold compliment, but as an evidence of the feeling
that makes me,
TO MR. CHARLES WILEY, Bookseller.
Every man is, more or
less, the sport of accident; nor do I know that authors are at all exempted
from this humiliating influence. This is the third of my novels, and it depends
on two very uncertain contingencies, whether it will not be the last: --the one
being the public opinion, and the other mine own humour. The first book was
written, because I was told that I could not write a grave tale; so, to prove
that the world did not know me, I wrote one that was so grave nobody would read
it; wherein I think that I had much the best of the argument. The second was written
to see if I could not overcome this neglect of the reading world. How far I
have succeeded, Mr. Charles Wiley, must ever remain a secret between ourselves.
The third has been written, exclusively, to please myself: so it would be no
wonder if it displeased every body else; for what two ever thought alike, on a
subject of the imagination?
I should think
criticism to be the perfection of human acquirements, did there not exist this
discrepancy in taste. Just as I have made up my mind to adopt the very sagacious
hints of one learned Reviewer, a pamphlet is put into my hands, containing the
remarks of another, who condemns all that his rival praises, and praises all
that his rival condemns. There I am, left like an ass between two locks of hay;
so that I have determined to relinquish my animate nature, and remain
stationary, like a lock of hay between two asses.
It is now a long time,
say the wise ones, since the world has been told all that is new and novel. But
the Reviewers (the cunning wights!) have adopted an ingenious expedient, to
give a freshness to the most trite idea. They clothe it in a language so
obscure and metaphysical, that the reader is not about to comprehend their
pages without some labour. This is called a great “range of thought;” and not
improperly, as I can testify; for, in my own case, I have frequently ranged the
universe of ideas, and come back again in as perfect ignorance of their meaning
as when I set out. It is delightful, to see the literati of a circulating
library get hold of one of these difficult periods! Their praise of the
performance is exactly commensurate with its obscurity. Every body knows, that
to seem wise is the first requisite in a great man.
A common word in the
mouths of all Reviewers, readers of magazines, and young ladies, when speaking
of novels, is “keeping;” and yet there are but few who attach the same meaning
to it. I belong, myself, to the old school, in this particular, and think that
it applies more to the subject in hand, than to any use of terms, or of cant
expressions. As a man might just as well be out of the world as out of “keeping,”
I have endeavoured to confine myself, in this tale, strictly to its observance.
This is a formidable curb to the imagination, as, doubtless, the reader will
very soon discover; but under its influence I have come to the conclusion, that
the writer of a tale, who takes the earth for the scene of his story, is in
some degree bound to respect human nature. Therefore I would advise any one,
who may take up this book, with the expectation of meeting gods and goddesses,
spooks or witches, or of feeling that strong excitement that is produced by
battles and murders, to throw it aside at once, for no such interest will be
found in any of its pages.
I have already said,
that it was mine own humour that suggested this tale; but it is a humour that
is deeply connected with feeling. Happier periods, more interesting events,
and, possibly, more beauteous scenes, might have been selected, to exemplify my
subject; but none of either that would be so dear to me. I wish, therefore, to
be judged more by what I have done, than by my sins of omission. I have
introduced one battle, but it is not of the most Homeric kind. As for murders,
the population of a new country will not admit of such a waste of human life.
There might possibly have been one or two hangings, to the manifest advantage
of the “settlement;” but then it would have been out of “keeping” with the
humane laws of this compassionate country.
The “Pioneers” is now
before the world, Mr. Wiley, and I shall look to you for the only true account
of its reception. The critics may write as obscurely as they please, and look
much wiser than they are; the papers may puff or abuse, as their changeful
humours dictate; but if you meet me with a smiling face, I shall at once know
that all is essentially well.
If you should ever have
occasion for a preface, I beg you will let me hear from you in reply.
See, Winter comes, to
rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with
all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds,
and storms--
Thompson
Near the centre of the
great State of New-York York lies an extensive district of country, whose
surface is a succession of hills and dales, or, to speak with greater deference
to geographical definitions, of mountains and valleys. It is among these hills
that the Delaware takes its rise; and flowing from the limpid lakes and
thousand springs of this country, the numerous sources of the mighty
Susquehanna meander through the valleys, until, uniting, they form one of the
proudest streams of which the old United States could boast. The mountains are
generally arable to the top, although instances are not wanting, where their
sides are jutted with rocks, that aid greatly in giving that romantic character
to the country, which it so eminently possesses. The vales are narrow, rich,
and cultivated; with a stream uniformly winding through each, now gliding peacefully
under the brow of one of the hills, and then suddenly shooting across the
plain, to wash the feet of its opposite rival. Beautiful and thriving villages
are found interspersed along the margins of the small lakes, or situated at
those points of the streams which are favourable to manufacturing; and neat and
comfortable farms, with every indication of wealth about them, are scattered
profusely through the vales, and even to the mountain tops. Roads diverge in
every direction, from the even and graceful bottoms of the valleys, to the most
rugged and intricate passes of the hills Academies, and minor edifices for the
encouragement of learning, meet the eye of the stranger, at every few miles, as
he winds his way through this uneven territory; and places for the public
worship of God abound with that frequency which characterizes a moral and
reflecting people, and with that variety of exterior and canonical government
which flows from unfettered liberty of conscience. In short, the whole district
is hourly exhibiting how much can be done, in even a rugged country, and with a
severe climate, under the dominion of mild laws, and where every man feels a
direct interest in the prosperity of a commonwealth, of which he knows himself
to form a distinct and independent part. The expedients of the pioneers who
first broke ground in the settlement of this country, are succeeded by the
permanent improvements of the yeoman, who intends to leave his remains to
moulder under the sod which he tills, or, perhaps, of the son, who, born in the
land, piously wishes to linger around the grave of his father. Only forty years
have passed since this whole territory was a wilderness.
Very soon after the
establishment of the independence of the States by the peace of 1783, the enterprise
of their citizens was directed to a development of the natural advantages of
their widely extended dominions. Before the war of the revolution the inhabited
parts of the colony of New-York were limited to less than a tenth of her
possessions. A narrow belt of country, extending for a short distance on either
side of the Hudson, with a similar occupation of fifty miles on the banks of
the Mohawk, together with the islands of Nassau and Staten, and a few insulated
settlements on chosen land along the margins of streams, composed the country
that was then inhabited by less than two hundred thousand souls. Within the
short period we have mentioned, her population has spread itself over five
degrees of latitude and seven of longitude, and has swelled to the powerful
number of nearly a million and a half, who are maintained in abundance, and can
look forward to ages before the evil day must arrive, when their possessions
will become unequal to their wants.
Our tale begins in
1793, about seven years after the commencement of one of the earliest of those
settlements, which have conduced to effect that magical change in the power and
condition of the state, to which we have alluded.
It was near the setting
of the sun, on a clear, cold day in December of that year, when a sleigh was
moving slowly up one of the mountains in the district which we have described.
The day had been fine for the season, and but two or three large clouds, whose
colour seemed brightened by the light reflected from the mass of snow that
covered the earth, floated in a sky of the purest blue. The road wound along
the brow of a precipice, and on one side was upheld by a foundation of logs,
piled for many feet, one upon the other, while a narrow excavation in the
mountain, in the opposite direction, had made a passage of sufficient width for
the ordinary travelling of that day But logs, excavation, and every thing that
did not reach for several feet above the earth, lay promiscuously buried under
the snow. A single track, barely wide enough to receive the sleigh, denoted the
route of the highway, and this was sunken near two feet below the surrounding
surface. In the vale, which lay at a distance of several hundred feet beneath
them, there was what in the language of the country was called a clearing, and
all the usual improvements of a new settlement; these even extended up the hill
to the point where the road turned short and ran across the level land, which
lay on the summit of the mountain; but the summit itself yet remained a forest.
There was a glittering in the atmosphere, as if it were filled with innumerable
shining particles, and the noble bay horses that drew the sleigh were covered,
in many parts, with a coat of frost. The vapour from their nostrils was seen to
issue like smoke; and every object in the view, as well as every arrangement of
the travellers, denoted the depth of a winter in the mountains. The harness,
which was of a deep dull black, differing from the glossy varnishing of the
present day, was ornamented with enormous plates and buckles of brass, that
shone like gold in the transient beams of the sun, which found their way
obliquely through the tops of the trees. Huge saddles, studded with nails of
the same material, and fitted with cloths that admirably served as blankets to
the shoulders of the animals, supported four high, square-topped turrets,
through which the stout reins led from the mouths of the horses to the hands of
the driver, who was a negro, of apparently twenty years of age. His face, which
nature had coloured with a glistening black, was now mottled with the cold, and
his large shining eyes were moistened with a liquid that flowed from the same
cause; still there was a smiling expression of good humour in his happy
countenance, that was created by the thoughts of his home, and a Christmas
fireside, with its Christmas frolics. The sleigh was one of those large,
comfortable, old-fashioned conveyances, which would admit a whole family within
its bosom, but which now contained only two passengers besides the driver. Its
outside was of a modest green, and its inside of a fiery red, that was intended
to convey the idea of heat in that cold climate. Large buffalo skins, trimmed
around the edges with red cloth, cut into festoons, covered the back of the
sleigh, and were spread over its bottom, and drawn up around the feet of the
travellers--one of whom was a man of middle age, and the other a female, just
entering upon womanhood. The former was of a large stature; but the precautions
he had taken to guard against the cold, left but little of his person exposed
to view. A great-coat, that was abundantly ornamented, if it were not made more
comfortable, by a profusion of furs, enveloped the whole of his figure,
excepting the head, which was covered with a cap of martin skins, lined with
morocco, the sides of which were made to fall, if necessary, and were now drawn
close over the ears, and were fastened beneath his chin with a black riband;
its top was surmounted with the tail of the animal whose skin had furnished the
materials for the cap, which fell back not ungracefully, a few inches behind
the head. From beneath this masque were to be seen part of a fine manly face,
and particularly a pair of expressive, large blue eyes, that promised
extraordinary intellect, covert humour, and great benevolence. The form of his
companion was literally hid beneath the multitude and variety of garments which
she wore. There were furs and silks peeping from under a large camblet cloak,
with a thick flannel lining, that, by its cut and size, was evidently intended
for a masculine wearer. A huge hood of black silk, that was quilted with down,
concealed the whole of her head, except at a small opening in front for breath,
through which occasionally sparkled a pair of animated eyes of the deepest
black.
Both the father and
daughter (for such was the connexion between the travellers) were too much
occupied with their different reflections to break the stillness, that received
little or no interruption from the easy gliding of the sleigh, by the sound of
their voices. The former was thinking of the wife that had held this their only
child fondly to her bosom, when, four years before, she had reluctantly
consented to relinquish the society of her daughter, in order that the latter
might enjoy the advantages which the city could afford to her education. A few
months afterwards death had deprived him of the remaining companion of his
solitude; but still he had enough of real regard for his child, not to bring
her into the comparative wilderness in which he dwelt, until the full period
had expired, to which he had limited her juvenile labours. The reflections of
the daughter were less melancholy, and mingled with a pleased astonishment at
the novel scenery that she met at every turn in the road.
The mountain on which
they were journeying was covered with pines, that rose without a branch seventy
or eighty feet, and which frequently tower ed to an additional height, that
more than equalled that elevation. Through the innumerable vistas that opened beneath
the lofty trees the eye could penetrate, until it was met by a distant
inequality in the ground, or was stopped by a view of the summit of the
mountain which lay on the opposite side of the valley to which they were
hastening. The dark trunks of the trees, rose from the pure white of the snow,
in regularly formed shafts, until, at a great height, their branches shot forth
their horizontal limbs, that were covered with the meager foliage of an
evergreen, affording a melancholy contrast to the torpor of nature below. To
the travellers there seemed to be no wind; but these pines waved majestically
at their topmost boughs, sending forth a dull, sighing sound, that was quite in
consonance with the scene.
The sleigh had glided
for some distance along the even surface, and the gaze of the female was bent
in inquisitive, and, perhaps, timid glances, into the recesses of the forest,
which were lighted by the unsullied covering of the earth, when a loud and
continued howling was heard, pealing under the long arches of the woods, like
the cry of a numerous pack of hounds. The instant the sounds reached the ears
of the gentleman, whatever might have been the subject of his meditations, he
forgot it; for he cried aloud to the black--
“Hold up, Aggy; there
is old Hector; I should know his bay among ten thousand. The Leather-stocking
stocking has put his hounds into the hills this clear day, and they have
started their game, you hear. There is a deer-track a few rods ahead;--and now,
Bess, if thou canst muster courage enough to stand fire, I will give thee a
saddle for thy Christmas dinner.”
The black drew up, with
a cheerful grin upon his chilled features, and began thrashing his arms
together, in order to restore the circulation to his fingers, while the speaker
stood erect, and, throwing aside his outer covering, stept from the sleigh upon
a bank of snow, which sustained his weight without yielding more than an inch
or two. A storm of sleet had fallen and frozen upon the surface a few days
before, and but a slight snow had occurred since to purify, without weakening
its covering.
In a few moments the
speaker succeeded in extricating a double-barrelled fowling-piece from amongst
a multitude of trunks and bandboxes. After throwing aside the thick mittens
which had encased his hands, that now appeared in a pair of leather gloves
tipped with fur, he examined his priming, and was about to move forward, when
the light bounding noise of an animal plunging through the woods was heard, and
directly a fine buck darted into the path, a short distance ahead of him. The
appearance of the animal was sudden, and his flight inconceivably rapid; but
the traveller appeared to be too keen a sportsman to be disconcerted by either.
As it came first into view he raised the fowling-piece to his shoulder, and,
with a practised eye and steady hand, drew a trigger; but the deer dashed
forward undaunted, and apparently unhurt. Without lowering his piece, the
traveller turned its muzzle towards his intended victim, and fired again.
Neither discharge, however, seemed to have taken effect.
The whole scene had
passed with a rapidity that confused the female, who was unconsciously
rejoicing in the escape of the buck, as he rather darted like a meteor, than
ran across the road before her, when a sharp, quick sound struck her ear, quite
different from the full, round reports of her father’s gun, but still
sufficiently distinct to be known as the concussion produced by fire-arms. At
the same instant that she heard this unexpected report, the buck sprang from
the snow, to a great height in the air, and directly a second discharge,
similar in sound to the first, followed, when the animal came to the earth,
falling headlong, and rolling over on the crust once or twice with its own
velocity. A loud shout was given by the unseen marksman, as triumphing in his
better aim; and a couple of men instantly appeared from behind the trunks of
two of the pines, where they had evidently placed themselves in expectation of
the passage of the deer.
“Ha! Natty, had I known
you were in ambush, I would not have fired,” cried the traveller, moving
towards the spot where the deer lay--near to which he was followed by the
delighted black, with the sleigh; “but the sound of old Hector was too
exhilirating to let me be quiet; though I hardly think I struck him either.”
“No--no--Judge,”
returned the hunter, with an inward chuckle, and with that look of exultation,
that indicates a consciousness of superior skill; “you burnt your powder, only
to warm your nose this cold evening. Did ye think to stop a full grown buck,
with Hector and the slut open upon him, within sound, with that robin pop-gun
in your hand? There’s plenty of pheasants amongst the swamps; and the snow
birds are flying round your own door, where you may feed them with crumbs, and
shoot enough for a potpie, any day; but if you’re for a buck, or a little bear’s
meat, Judge, you’ll have to take the long rifle, with a greased wadding, or you’ll
waste more powder than you’ll fill stomachs, I’m thinking.”
As the speaker concluded,
be drew his bare hand across the bottom of his nose, and again opened his
enormous mouth with a kind of inward laugh.
“The gun scatters well,
Natty, and has killed a deer before now,” said the traveller, smiling good
humouredly. “One barrel was charged with buck shot; but the other was loaded
for birds only.--Here are two hurts that he has received; one through his neck,
and the other directly through his heart. It is by no means certain, Natty, but
I gave him one of the two”
“Let who will kill him,”
said the hunter, rather surlily, “I suppose the cretur is to be eaten.” So
saying, he drew a large knife from a leathern sheath, which was stuck through
his girdle or sash, and cut the throat of the animal. “If there is two balls
through the deer, I want to know if there wasn’t two rifles fired--besides, who
ever saw such a ragged hole from a smooth-bore, as this is through the
neck?--and you will own yourself, Judge, that the buck fell at the last shot,
which was sent from a truer and a younger hand than your’n or mine ’ither; but
for my part, although I am a poor man, I can live without the venison, but I
don’t love to give up my lawful dues in a free country. Though, for the matter
of that, might often makes right here, as well as in the old country, for what
I can see.”
An air of sullen
dissatisfaction pervaded the manner of the nunter during the whole of this
speech; yet he thought it prudent to utter the close of the sentence in such an
under tone, as to leave nothing audible but the grumbling sounds of his voice.
“Nay, Natty,” rejoined
the traveller, with undisturbed good humour, “it is for the honour that I
contend. A few dollars will pay for the venison; but what will requite me for
the lost honour of a buck’s tail in my cap? Think, Natty, how I should triumph
over that quizzing dog, Dick Jones, who has failed seven times this season
already and has only brought in one wood-chuck and a few gray squirrels.”
“Ah! the game is
becoming hard to find, indeed, Judge, with your clearings and betterments,”
said the old hunter, with a kind of disdainful resignation. “The time has been,
when I have shot thirteen deer, without counting the fa’ns, standing in the
door of my own hut;--and for bear’s meat, if one wanted a ham or so from the
cretur, he had only to watch a-nights, and he could shoot one by moonlight,
through the cracks of the logs; no fear of his over-sleeping himself, n’ither,
for the howling of the wolves was sartin to keep his eyes open. There’s old
Hector,”-- patting with affection a tall hound, of black and yellow spots, with
white belly and legs, that just then came in on the scent, accompanied by the
slut he had mentioned; “see where the wolves bit his throat, the night I druve
them from the venison I was smoking on the chimbly top--that dog is more to be
trusted nor many a Christian man; for he never forgets a friend, and loves the
hand that gives him bread.”
There was a peculiarity
in the manner of the hunter, that struck the notice of the young female, who
had been a close and interested observer of his appearance and equipments, from
the moment he first came into view. He was tall, and so meagre as to make him
seem above even the six feet that he actually stood in his stockings. On his
head, which was thinly covered with lank, sandy hair, he wore a cap made of
fox-skin, resembling in shape the one we have already described, although much
inferior in finish and ornaments. His face was skinny, and thin almost to
emaciation; but yet bore no signs of disease;--on the contrary, it had every indication
of the most robust and enduring health. The cold and the exposure had,
together, given it a colour of uniform red; his gray eyes were glancing under a
pair of shaggy brow, that overhung them in long hairs of gray mingled with
their natural hue; his scraggy neck was bare, and burnt to the same tint with
his face; though a small part of a shirt collar, made of the country check, was
to be seen above the over-dress he wore. A kind of coat, made of dressed
deer-skin, with the hair on, was belted close to his lank body, by a girdle of
coloured worsted. On his feet were deer-skin moccasins, ornamented with
porcupines’ quills, after the manner of the Indians, and his limbs were guarded
with long leggings of the same material as the moccasins, which, gartering over
the knees of his tarnished buck-skin breeches, had obtained for him, among the
settlers, the nick-name of Leather-stocking, notwithstanding his legs were
protected beneath, in winter, by thick garments of woollen, duly made of good
blue yarn. Over his left shoulder was slung a belt of deer-skin, from which
depended an enormous ox horn, so thinly scraped, as to discover the dark powder
that it contained. The larger end was fitted ingeniously and securely with a
wooden bottom, and the other was stopped tight by a little plug. A leathern
pouch hung before him, from which, as he concluded his last speech, he took a
small measure, and, filling it accurately with powder, he commenced reloading
the rifle, which, as its butt rested on the snow before him, reached nearly to
the top of his fox-skin cap.
The traveller had been
closely examining the wounds during these movements, and now, without heeding
the ill humour of the hunter’s manner, exclaimed--
“I would fain establish
a right, Natty, to the honour of this capture; and surely if the hit in the
neck be mine, it is enough; for the shot in the heart was unnecessary--what we
call an act of supererogation, Leather-stocking.”
“You may call it by
what larned name you please, Judge,” said the hunter, throwing his rifle across
his left arm, and knocking up a brass lid in the breech, from which he took a
small piece of greased leather, and wrapping a ball in it forced them down by
main strength on the powder, where he continued to pound them while speaking. “It’s
far easier to call names, than to shoot a buck on the spring; but the cretur
come by his end from a younger hand than ’ither your’n or mine, as I said
before.”
“What say you, my
friend,” cried the traveller, turning pleasantly to Natty’s companion; “shall
we toss up this dollar for the honour, and you keep the silver if you lose
-what say you, friend?”
“That I killed the
deer,” answered the young man, with a little haughtiness, as he leaned on
another long rifle. similar to that of Natty’s.
“Here are two to one,
indeed,” replied the Judge, with a smile; “I am out-voted--overruled, as we say
on the bench. There is Aggy, he can’t vote. being a slave; and Bess is a minor
--so I must even make the best of it. But you’ll sell me the venison; and the
deuse is in it, but I make a good story about its death.”
“The meat is none of
mine to sell,” said Leather-stocking, adopting a little of his companion’s
hauteur; “for my part, I have known animals travel days with shots in the neck,
and I’m none of them who’ll rob a man of his rightful dues.”
“You are tenacious of
your rights, this cold evening, Natty,” returned the Judge, with unconquerable
good nature; “but what say you, young man, will three dollars pay you for the
buck?”
“First let us determine
the question of right to the satisfaction of us both,” said the youth, firmly
but respectfully, and with a pronunciation and language vastly superior to his
appearance; “with how many shot did you load your gun?”
“With five, sir,” said
the Judge, gravely, a little struck with the other’s manner; “are they not
enough to slay a buck like this?”
“One would do it; but,”
moving to the tree from behind which he had appeared, “you know, sir, you fired
in this direction--here are four of the bullets in the tree.”
The Judge examined the
fresh marks in the rough bark of the pine, and, shaking his head, said with a
laugh--
“You are making out the
case against yourself, my young advocate--where is the fifth?”
“Here,” said the youth,
throwing aside the rough over-coat that he wore, and exhibiting a hole in his
under garment, through which large drops of blood were oozing.
“Good God!” exclaimed
the Judge, with horror; “have I been trifling here about an empty distinction,
and a fellow-creature suffering from my hands without a murmur? But
hasten--quick --get into my sleigh--it is but a mile to the village, where
surgical aid can be obtained;--all shall be done at my expense, and thou shalt
live with me until thy wound is healed--ay, and for ever afterwards, too.”
“I thank you, sir, for
your good intentions, but must decline your offer. I have a friend who would be
uneasy were he to hear that I am hurt and away from him. The injury is but
slight, and the bullet has missed the bones; but I believe, sir, you will now
admit my title to the veuison.”
“Admit it!” repeated
the agitated Judge; “I here give thee a right to shoot deer, or bears, or any
thing thou pleasest in my woods, for ever. Leather-stocking is the only other
man that I have granted the same privilege to; and the time is coming when it
will be of value. But I buy your deer--here, this bill will pay thee, both for
thy shot and my own.”
The old hunter gathered
his tall person up into an air of pride, during this dialogue, and now muttered
in an under tone--
“There’s them living
who say, that Nathaniel Bumppo’s right to shoot in these hills, is of older
date than Marmaduke Temple’s right to forbid him. But if there’s a law about it
at all, though who ever heard tell of a law, that a man should’nt kill deer
where he pleased!--but if there is a law at all, it should be to keep people
from the use of them smooth-bores. A body never knows where his lead will fly,
when he pulls the trigger of one of them fancified fire-arms.”
Without attending to
the soliloquy of Natty, the youth bowed his head silently to the offer of the
bank note, and replied--
“Excuse me, sir, I have
need of the venison.”
“But this will buy you
many deer,” said the judge; “take it, I entreat you,” and lowering his voice to
nearly a whisper, he added--“it is for a hundred dollars.”
For an instant only,
the youth seemed to hesitate, and then, blushing even through the high colour
that the cold had given to his cheeks, as if with inward shame at his own
weakness, he again proudly declined the offer.
During this scene the
female arose, and, regardless of the cold air, she threw back the hood which
concealed her features, and now spoke, with great earnestness--
“Surely, surely--young
man--sir--you would not pain my father so much, as to have him think that he leaves
a fellow-creature in this wilderness, whom his own hand has injured. I entreat
you will go with us, and receive medical aid for your hurts.”
Whether his wound
became more painful, or there was something irresistible in the voice and
manner of the fair pleader for her father’s feelings, we know not, but the
haughty distance of the young man’s manner was sensibly softened by this
appeal, and he stood, in apparent doubt, as if reluctant to comply with, and
yet unwilling to refuse her request. The judge, for such being his office,
must, in future, be his title, watched, with no little interest, the display of
this singular contention in the feelings of the youth, and advancing, kindly
took his hand, and, as he pulled him gently towards the sleigh, urged him to
enter it.
“There is no human aid
nearer than Templeton,” he said; “and the hut of Natty is full three miles from
this;--come--come, my young friend, go with us, and let the new doctor look to
this shoulder of thine. Here is Natty will take the tidings of thy welfare to
thy friend; and should’st thou require it, thou shalt be returned to thy home
in the morning.”
The young man succeeded
in extricating his hand from the warm grasp of the judge, but continued to gaze
on the face of the female, who, regardless of the cold was still standing with
her fine features exposed, which expressed feelings that eloquently seconded
the request of her father. Leather-stocking stood, in the mean time, leaning
upon his long rifle, with his head turned a little to one side, as if engaged
in deep and sagacious musing; when, having apparently satisfied his doubts, by
revolving the subject in his mind, he broke silence--
“It may be best to go,
lad, after all; for if the shot hangs under the skin, my hand is getting too old
to be cutting into human flesh, as I once used to could. Though some thirty
years agone, in the old war, when I was out under Sir William, I travelled
seventy miles alone in the howling wilderness, with a rifle bullet in my thigh,
and then cut it out with my own jack-knife. Old Indian John knows the time
well. I met him with a party of the Delawares, on the trail of the Iroquois,
who had been down and taken five scalps on the Schoharie. ButI made a mark on
the red-skin that I’ll warrant he carried to his grave. I took him on his
posteerum, saving the lady’s presence, as he got up from the amboosh, and
rattled three buck shot into his naked hide, so close, that you might have laid
a broad joe upon them all--” here Natty stretched out his long neck, and straightened
his body, as he opened his mouth, which exposed a single tusk of yellow bone,
while his eyes, his face, even his whole frame, seemed to laugh, although no
sound was emitted, except a kind of thick hissing, as he inhaled his breath in
quavers. “I had lost my bullet mould in crossing the Oneida outlet, and so had
to make shift with the buck shot; but the rifle was true, and did’nt scatter
like your two-legged thing there, Judge, which don’t do, I find, to hunt in
company with.”
Natty’s apology to the
delicacy of the young lady was unnecessary, for, while he was speaking, she was
too much employed in helping her father to remove certain articles of their
baggage to hear him. Unable to resist the kind urgency of the travellers any
longer, the youth, though still with an unaccountable reluctance expressed in
his manner, suffered himself to be persuaded to enter the sleigh. The black
with the aid of his master threw the buck across the baggage, and entering the
vehicle themselves, the judge invited the hunter to do so likewise.
“No--no--” said the old
man, shaking his head; “I have work to do at home this Christmas eve--drive on
with the boy, and let your doctor look to the shoulder; though if he will only
cut out the shot, I have yarbs that will heal the wound quicker nor all his
foreign ’intments.” He turned and was about to move off, when, suddenly
recollecting himself, he again faced the party, and added--“If you see any
thing of Indian John about the foot of the lake, you had better take him with
you, and let him lend the doctor a hand; for old as he is, he is curous at cuts
and bruises, and it’s likelier than not he’ll be in with brooms to sweep your
Christmas ha’arths.”
“Stop--stop,” cried the
youth, catching the arm of the black as he prepared to urge his horses forward;
“Natty--you need say nothing of the shot, nor of where I am going--remember,
Natty, as you love me.”
“Trust old
Leather-stocking,” returned the hunter, significantly; “he has’nt lived forty
years in the wilderness, and not larnt from the savages how to hold his
tongue--trust to me, lad; and remember old Indian John.”
“And, Natty,” said the
youth eagerly, still holding the black by the arm, “I will just get the shot
extracted, and bring you up, to-night, a quarter of the buck, for the Christmas
dinner.”
He was interrupted by
the hunter, who held up his finger with an expressive gesture for silence, and
moved softly along the margin of the road, keeping his eyes steadfastly fixed
on the branches of a pine near him. When he had obtained such a position as he
wished, he stopped, and cocking his rifle, threw one leg far behind him, and
stretching his left arm to its utmost extent along the barrel of his piece, he
began slowly to raise its muzzle in a line with the straight trunk of the tree.
The eyes of the group in the sleigh naturally preceded the movement of the
rifle, and they soon discovered the object of Natty’s aim. On a small dead
branch of the pine, which, at the distance of seventy feet from the ground,
shot out horizontally, immediately beneath the living members of the tree, sat
a bird, that in the vulgar language of the country, was indiscriminately called
a pheasant or a partridge. In size, it was but little smaller than a common
barn-yard fowl. The baying of the dogs, and the conversation that had passed
near the root of the tree on which it was perched, had alarmed the bird, which
was now drawn up near, the body of the pine, with a head and neck erect, that
formed nearly a straight line with its legs. So soon as the rifle bore on the
victim, Natty drew his trigger, and the partridge fell from its height with a
force that buried it in the snow.
“Lie down, you old
villain,” exclaimed Leather-stocking, shaking his ramrod at Hector as he
bounded towards the foot of the tree, “lie down, I say.” The dog obeyed, and
Natty proceeded with great rapidity, though with the nicest accuracy, to
re-load his piece. When this was ended, he took up his game, and showing it to
the party without a head, he cried--“Here is a nice tit-bit for an old man’s
Christmas--never mind the venison, boy, and remember Indian John; his yarbs are
better nor all the foreign ’intments. Here, Judge,” holding up the bird again, “do
you think a smooth-bore would pick game off their roost, and not ruffle a
feather?” The old man gave another of his remarkable laughs, which partook so
largely of exultation, mirth, and irony, and shaking his head, he turned, with
his rifle at a trail, and moved into the forest with short and quick steps,
that were between a walk and a trot. At each movement that he made his body
lowered several inches, his knees yielding with an inclination inward; but as
the sleigh turned at a bend in the road, the youth cast his eyes in quest of
his old companion, and he saw that he was already nearly concealed by the
trunks of the trees, while his dogs were following quietly in his footsteps,
occasionally scenting the deer track, that they seemed to know instinctively
was now of no farther use to them. Another jerk was given to the sleigh, and
Leather-stocking was hidden from view.
All places that the eye
of Heaven visits,
Are to a wise man ports
and happy havens:--
Think not the king did
banish thee:
But thou the king--
Richard II
An ancestor of
Marmaduke Temple had, about one hundred and twenty years before the
commencement of our tale, come to the colony of Pennsylvania, a friend and
co-religionist of its great patron. Old Marmaduke, for this formidable prenomen
was a kind of appellative to the race, brought with him to that asylum of the
persecuted, an abundance of the good things of this life. He became the master
of many thousands of acres of uninhabited territory, and the supporter of many
a score of dependants. He lived greatly respected for his piety, and not a
little distinguished as a sectary; was intrusted by his associates with many
important political stations; and died, just in time to escape the knowledge of
his own poverty. It was his lot to share the fortune of most of those who
brought wealth with them into the new settlements of the middle colonies.
The consequence of an
emigrant into these provinces was generally to be ascertained by the number of
his white servants or dependants, and the nature of the public situations that
he held. Taking this rule as a guide, the ancestor of our Judge must have been
a man of no little note.
It is, however, a
subject of curious inquiry at the present day, to look into the brief records
of that early period, and observe how regular, and with few exceptions how
inevitable, were the gradations, on the one hand, of the masters to poverty,
and on the other, of their servants to wealth. Accustomed to ease, and unequal
to the struggles incident to an infant society, the affluent emigrant was
barely enabled to maintain his own rank, by the weight of his personal
superiority and acquirements; but the moment that his head was laid in the
grave, his indolent, and comparatively uneducated offspring, were compelled to
yield precedency to the more active energies of a class, whose exertions had been
stimulated by necessity. This is a very common course of things, even in the
present state of the Union; but it was peculiarly the fortunes of the two
extremes of society, in the peaceful and unenterprising colonies of
Pennsylvania and New-Jersey.
The posterity of
Marmaduke did not escape the common lot of those, who depended rather on their
hereditary possessions than on their own powers; and in the third generation,
they had descended to a point, below which, in this happy country, it is barely
possible for honesty, intellect, and sobriety, to fall. The same pride of
family, that had, by its self-satisfied indolence, conduced to aid their fall,
now became a principle to stimulate them to endeavour to rise again. The
feeling, from being morbid, was changed to a healthful and active desire to
emulate the character, the condition, and, peradventure, the wealth, of their
ancestors also. It was the father of our new acquaintance, the Judge, who first
began to re-ascend the scale of society; and in this undertaking he was not a
little assisted by a marriage that he formed, which aided greatly in furnishing
the means of educating his only son, in a rather better manner than the low
state of the common schools in Pennsylvania could promise; or than had been the
practice in the family, for the two or three preceding generations.
At the school where the
reviving prosperity of his father was enabled to maintain him, young Marmaduke
formed an intimacy with a youth, whose years were about equal to his own. This
was a fortunate connexion for our judge, and paved the way to most of his
future elevation in life, when the early inclination for each other in the boys
was matured into friendship.
There was not only
great wealth, but high court interest, amongst the connexions of Edward
Effingham. They were one of the very few families, then resident in the
colonies, who thought it a degradation to its members to descend to the
pursuits of commerce; and who never emerged from the privacy of their domestic
life, unless to preside in the councils of the colony, or to bear arms in her
defence. The latter had, from youth to approaching age, been the only
employment of Edward’s father. Military rank, under the crown of Great Britain,
was, sixty years ago, attained with much longer probation, and by much more
toilsome services, than at the present time. Years were passed, without
murmuring, in the subordinate grades of the service; and those soldiers who
were stationed in the colonies, felt, when they obtained the command of a company,
that they were entitled to receive the greatest deference from the peaceful
occupants of the soil. Any one of our readers, who, in a visit to the falls,
has occasion to cross the Niagara, by spending a day at Newark, may easily
observe, not only the self-importance, but the real estimation enjoyed by the
humblest representative of the crown, even in that polar region of royal
sunshine. Such, and at no very distant period was the respect paid to the
military in these States, where now, happily, no symbol of war is ever seen,
unless at the free and fearless voice of their people. When, therefore, the
father of Marmaduke’s friend after forty years’ service, retired with the rank
of Major, maintaining in his domestic establishment a comparative splendour, it
is not to be doubted but that he became a man of the first consideration in his
native colony--which was that of New-York. He had served with fidelity and
courage, and, having been, according to the custom of the provinces, entrusted
with commands much superior to those to which he was entitled by rank, with
reputation also. When Major Effingham yielded to the claims of age, he retired
with dignity, refusing his half-pay or any other compensation for services,
that he felt he could no longer perform. The ministry proffered to his
acceptance various civil offices, which yielded not only honour but profit; but
he declined them all, with the chivalrous independence and loyalty that had
marked his character through life. The veteran soon caused this act of patriotic
disinterestedness to be followed by another of private munificence, that,
however little it accorded with prudence, was in perfect conformity with the
simple integrity of his own views. The friend of Marmaduke was his only child;
and to this son on his marriage with a lady to whom the father was particularly
partial, the Major gave a complete conveyance of his whole estate, consisting
of moneys in the funds, a town and country residence, sundry valuable farms in
the old parts of the colony, and large tracts of wild land in the new;--in this
manner throwing himself upon the filial piety of his child for his own future
maintenance. Major Effingham, in declining the liberal offers of the British
ministry, had subjected himself to the suspicion of having attained his dotage,
by all those who throng the avenues to court patronage, even in the remotest
corners of that vast empire; but, when he thus voluntarily stript himself of
his great personal wealth, the remainder of the community seemed instinctively
to adopt the conclusion also, that he had reached a second childhood. This may
explain the fact of his importance rapidly declining; and, if privacy was his
object, the veteran had soon a free indulgence of his wishes. Whatever views
the world might entertain of this act of the Major, to himself and to his
child, it seemed no more than a natural gift by a father, of those immunities
which he could no longer enjoy or improve, to a son, who was formed, both by
nature and education, to do both. The younger Effingham did not object to the
amount of the donation; for he felt, that while his parent reserved a moral
control over his actions, he was relieving himself from a fatiguing burthen:
such, indeed, was the confidence existing between them, that to neither did it
seem any thing more, than removing money from one pocket to another.
One of the first acts
of the young man, on coming into possession of his wealth, was to seek his
early friend, with a view to offer any assistance, that it was now in his power
to bestow.
The death of Marmaduke’s
father, and the consequent division of his small estate, rendered such an offer
extremely acceptable to the young Pennsylvanian: he felt his own powers, and
saw, not only the excellences, but the foibles in the character of his friend.
Effingham was by nature indolent, confiding, and at times impetuous and
indiscreet; but Marmaduke was uniformly equable, penetrating, and full of
activity and enterprise. To the latter, therefore, the assistance, or rather
connexion, that was proffered to him, seemed to promise a mutual advantage. It
was cheerfully accepted, and the arrangement of its conditions left entirely to
the dictates of his own judgment. A mercantile house was established in the
metropolis of pennsylvania, with the avails of Mr. Effingham’s personal
property; all, or nearly all, of which was put into the possession of Temple,
who was the only ostensible proprietor in the concern, while in secret, the
other was entitled to an equal participation in the profits. This connexion was
thus kept private for two reasons; one of which, in the freedom of their
intercourse, was frankly avowed to Marmaduke, while the other continued
profoundly hid in the bosom of his friend. The last was nothing more than
pride. To the descendant of a line of soldiers, commerce, even in that indirect
manner, seemed a degrading pursuit; and every sentiment of young Effingham was
opposed to the acknowledgment of an arrangement, which he only reconciled to
his private feelings by a knowledge of his own motives--but an insuperable
obstacle to the disclosure existed in the prejudices of his father.
We have already said
that Major Effingham had served as a soldier, with reputation. On one occasion,
while in command on the western frontier of Pennsylvania, against a league of
the French and Indians, not only his glory, but the safety of himself and his
troops were jeoparded, by the peaceful policy of that colony. To the soldier,
this was an unpardonable offence. He was fighting in their defence only--he
knew that the mild principles of this little nation of practical christians
would be disregarded by their subtle and malignant enemies; and he felt the
injury the more deeply, because he saw that the avowed object of the colonists,
in withholding their succours, would only have a tendency to expose his
command, without preserving the peace. The gallant soldier succeeded after a
desperate conflict, in extricating himself with a handful of his men, from
their murderous enemy; but he never forgave the people who had exposed him to a
danger, which they left him to combat alone. It was in vain to tell him, that
they had no agency in his being placed on their frontier at all; it was
evidently for their benefit that he had been so placed, and it was their “religious
duty,” so the Major always expressed it; “it was their religious duty to have
supported him.”
At no time was the old
soldier an admirer of the peaceful disciples of Fox. Their disciplined habits,
both of mind and body, had endowed them with great physical perfection; and the
eye of the veteran was apt to scan the fair proportions and athletic frames of
the colonists, with a look that seemed to utter volumes of contempt for their
moral imbecility. He was also a little addicted to the expression of a belief,
that, where there was so great an observance of the externals of religion,
there could not be much of the substance.--It is not our task to explain what
is, or ought to be the substance of christianity, but merely to record in this
place the opinions of Major Effingham.
Knowing the sentiments
of the father, in relation to this people, it was no wonder that the son
hesitated to avow his connexion with nay, even his dependence on the integrity
of, a quaker.
It has been seen that
Marmaduke deduced his origin from the contemporaries and friends of Penn. His
father had married without the pale of the church to which he belonged, and
had, in this manner, forfeited some of the privileges of his offspring. Still,
as young Marmaduke was educated in a colony and society, where even the
ordinary intercourse between friends was tinctured with the aspect of this mild
religion, his habits and language were somewhat marked by its peculiarities.
His own marriage at a future day with a lady without, not only the pale, but the
influence of this sect of religionists, had a tendency, it is true, to weaken
his early impressions; still he retained them, in some degree, to the hour of
his death, and was observed uniformly, when much interested or agitated, to
speak in the language of his youth-- But this is anticipating our tale.
When Marmaduke first
became the partner of young Effingham, he was quite the quaker in externals;
and it was too dangerous an experiment for the son to think of encountering the
prejudices of the father on this subject. The connexion, therefore, remained a
profound secret to all but those who were interested in it.
For a few years,
Marmaduke directed the commercial operations of his house with a prudence and
sagacity, that afforded rich returns for the labour and hazard incurred. He
married the lady we have mentioned, who was the mother of Elizabeth, and the
visits of his friend were becoming more frequent; and there was a speedy
prospect of removing the veil from their intercourse, as its advantages became
each hour more apparent to Mr. Effingham, when the troubles that preceded the
war of the revolution, extended themselves to an alarming degree.
Educated in the most
dependent loyalty by his father, Mr. Effingham had, from the commencement of
the disputes between the colonists and the crown, warmly maintained, what he
believed to be, the just prerogatives of his prince; while, on the other hand,
the clear head and independent mind of Temple had induced him to espouse the
cause of the people. Both might have been influenced by early impressions; for,
if the son of the loyal and gallant soldier bowed in implicit obedience to the
will of his sovereign, the descendant of the persecuted follower of Penn,
looked back, with a little bitterness, to the unmerited wrongs that had been
heaped upon his ancestors.
This difference in
opinion had long been a subject of amicable dispute between them, but,
latterly, the contest was getting to be too important to admit of trivial
discussions on the part of Marmaduke, whose acute discernment was already
catching faint glimmerings of the important events that were in embryo. The
sparks of dissention soon kindled into a blaze; and the colonies, or rather, as
they quickly declared themselves, the states, became a scene of strife and
bloodshed for years.
A short time before the
battle of Lexington, Mr. Effingham, already a widower, transmitted to Marmaduke
for safe keeping, all his valuable effects and papers; and left the colony
without his father. The war had, however, scarcely commenced in earnest, when
he re-appeared in New-York, wearing the livery of his king, and in a short
time, he took the field at the head of a provincial corps. In the mean time,
Marmaduke had completely committed himself in the cause, as it was then called,
of the rebellion: of course all intercourse between the friends ceased--on the
part of Col. Effingham, it was unsought, and on that of Marmaduke, there was a
cautious reserve. It soon became necessary for the latter to abandon the
capital of Philadelphia; but he had taken the precaution to remove to the
interior the whole of his effects, beyond the reach of the royal forces,
including the papers of his friend also. There he continued serving his country
during the struggle, in various civil capacities, and always with dignity and
usefulness. While, however, he discharged his functions with credit and
fidelity, Marmaduke never seemed to lose sight of his own interests; for, when
the estates of the adherents of the crown fell under the hammer, by the acts of
confiscation, he appeared in New-York, and became the purchaser of extensive
possessions, at, comparatively, very low prices.
It is true that
Marmaduke, by thus purchasing estates that had been wrested by violence from
others, rendered himself obnoxious to the censures of that sect, which, at the
same time that it discards its children from a full participation in the family
union, seems ever unwilling to abandon them entirely to the world. But either
his success, or the frequency of the transgression in others, soon wiped off
this slight stain from his character: and although there were a few, who,
dissatisfied with their own fortunes, or conscious of their own demerits would
make dark hints concerning the sudden prosperity of the unportioned quaker, yet
his services and possibly his wealth, soon drove the recollection of these
vague conjectures from men’s minds.
When the war was ended,
and the independence of the states acknowledged, Mr. Temple turned his
attention from the pursuit of commerce, which was then fluctuating and
uncertain, to the settlement of those tracts of land which he had purchased.
Aided by a good deal of money, and directed by the suggestions of a strong and
practical reason, his enterprises throve to a degree, that the climate and rugged
face of the country which he selected, would seem to forbid. His property
increased in a tenfold ratio, and he was already to be ranked among the most
wealthy and important of his countrymen. To inherit this wealth, he had but one
child--the daughter whom we have introduced to the reader, and whom he was now
conveying from school to preside over a household that had too long wanted a
mistress.
When the district in
which his estates lay, had become sufficiently populous to be set off as a
county. Mr. Temple had, according to the custom of the new settlements, been
selected to fill its highest judicial station. This might make a Templar smile,
but in addition to the apology of necessity, there is ever a dignity in talents
and experience, that is commonly sufficient, in any station, for the protection
of its possessor; and Marmaduke, more fortunate in his native clearness of
mind, than the judge of king Charles, not only decided right, but was generally
able to give a very good reason for it. At all events, such was the universal
practice of the country and the times; and Judge Temple, so far from ranking
among the lowest of his judicial contemporaries in the courts of the new
counties, felt himself, and was unanimously acknowledged to be, among the
first.
We shall here close
this brief explanation of the history and character of some of our personages,
leaving them in future to speak and act for themselves.
All that thou see’st,
is nature’s handy work:
Those rocks that upward
throw their mossy brows,
Like eastled pinnacles
of elder times:
These venerable stems,
that slowly rock
Their tow’ring branches
in the wintry gale!
That field of frost,
which glitters in the sun,
Mocking the whiteness
of a marble breast:--
Yet man can mar such
works with his rude taste,
Like some sad spoiler
of a virgin’s fame.
Duo.
Some little while
elapsed, after the horses had resumed their journey, ere Marmaduke Temple was
sufficiently recovered from his agitation, to scan the person of his new
companion. He now observed, that he was a youth of some two or three and twenty
years of age; and rather above the middle height. Further observation was
prevented by the rough over-coat, which was belted close to his form by a
worsted sash, much like the one worn by the old hunter. The eyes of the Judge,
after resting a moment on the figure of the stranger, were raised to a scrutiny
of his countenance. There had been a contraction of the brows, and a look of
care, visible in the features of the youth, when he first entered the sleigh,
that had not only attracted the notice of Elizabeth, but which she had been
much puzzled to interpret. The passion seemed the strongest when he was
enjoining his old companion to secrecy; and when he had decided, and was,
rather passively, suffering himself to be conveyed to the village, the
expression of the young man’s eyes by no means indicated any great degree of
self-satisfaction at the step. But the lines of an uncommonly prepossessing
countenance were gradually becoming composed; and he now sate in silent and,
apparently, abstracted musing. The Judge gazed at him for some time with
earnestness, and then smiling as if at his own forgetfulness, he spoke--
“I believe, my young
friend, that terror has driven your name from my recollection--your face is
very familiar to me, and yet for the honour of a score of buck’s-tails in my
cap, I could not tell your name.”
“I came into the county
but three weeks since, sir,” returned the youth coldly, “and, I understand you
have been absent more than that time.”
“It will be five
to-morrow. Yet your face is one that I have seen; though it would not be
strange, such has been my affright, should I see thee in thy winding-sheet,
walking by my bed-side, to-night. What say’st thou Bess? Am I compos mentis or
not?--Fit to charge a grand jury. or, what is just now of more pressing
necessity, able to do the honours of a Christmas-eve, in the hall of Templeton?”
“More able to do
either, my dear father,” said a playful voice from under the ample enclosures
of the hood, “than to kill deer with a smooth-bore.” A short pause followed;
and the same voice, but in a different accent continued--“We shall have good
reasons for our thanksgivings to-night, on more accounts than one.”
A slightly scornful
smile passed over the features of the youth, at the archness of the first part
of this speech; but it instantly vanished, as he listened to the tremulous
tones in which it was concluded. The Judge, also, seemed to be affected with
the consciousness of how narrowly he had escaped taking the life of a
fellow-creature, and for some time, there was a dead silence in the sleigh.
The horses soon reached
a point, where they seemed to know by instinct that their journey was nearly
ended, and, bearing on the bits, as they tossed their heads, uneasily, up and
down, they rapidly drew the sleigh over the level land, which lay on the top of
the mountain, and soon came to the point where the road descended suddenly, but
circuitously, into the valley.
The Judge was roused
from his reflections, when he saw the four columns of dense smoke, which
floated along the air from his own chimneys. As house, village, and valley
burst on his sight. he exclaimed cheerfully to his daughter--
“See, Bess, there is
thy resting-place for life! And thine too, young man, if thou wilt consent to
dwell with us.”
The eyes of the youth
and maiden involuntarily met, as the Judge, in the warmth of his feelings, thus
included them in an association which was to endure so long; and if the
deepening colour, that, notwithstanding her hood, might be seen gathering over
the face even to the forehead of Elizabeth, was contradicted in its language by
the proud expression of her eye, the scornful but covert smile that again
played about the lips of the stranger, seemed equally to deny the probability
of his consenting to form one of this family group. The scene was one, however,
which might easily warm a heart less given to philanthropy than that of
Marmaduke Temple.
The side of the
mountain, on which our travellers were journeying, though not absolutely
perpendicular, was yet so steep as to render great care necessary in descending
the rude and narrow path, which, in that early day, wound along the precipices.
The negro reined in his impatient steeds, and time was given to Elizabeth to
dwell on a scene which was so rapidly altering under the hands of man, that it
only resembled, in its outlines, the picture she had so often studied, with
delight, in her childhood. On the right, and stretching for several miles to
the north, lay a narrow plain, buried among mountains, which, falling
occasionally, jutted in long low points, that were covered with tall trees,
into the valley; and then again, for miles, stretched their lofty brows
perpendicularly along its margin, nourishing in the crags that formed their
sides, pines and hemlocks thinly interspersed with chesnut and beech, which
grew in lines nearly parallel to the mountains themselves. The dark foliage of
the evergreens was brilliantly contrasted by the glittering whiteness of the
plain, which exhibited, over the tops of the trees, and through the vistas
formed by the advancing points of the hills, a single sheet of unspotted snow,
relieved occasionally by a few small dark objects that were discovered, as they
were passing directly beneath the feet of the travellers, to be sleighs moving
in various directions. On the western border of the plain, the mountains,
though equally high, were less precipitous, and as they receded, opened into
irregular valleys and glens, and were formed into terraces and hollows that
admitted of cultivation. Although the evergreens still held dominion over many
of the hills that rose on this side of the valley, yet the undulating outlines
of the distant mountains, covered with forests of beech and maple, gave a
relief to the eye, and the promise of a kinder soil. Occasionally, spots of
white were discoverable amidst the forests of the opposite hills, that
announced, by the smoke which curled over the tops of the trees, the
habitations of man, and the commencement of agriculture. These spots were
sometimes, by the aid of united labour enlarged into what were called
settlements; but more frequently were small and insulated; though so rapid were
the changes, and so persevering the labours of those who had cast their
fortunes on the success of the enterprise, that it was not difficult for the
imagination of Elizabeth to conceive they were enlarging under her eye, while
she was gazing, in mute wonder, at the alterations that a few short years had
made in the aspect of the country. The points on the western side of the plain
were both larger and more numerous than those on its eastern, and one in
particular thrust itself forward in such a manner, as to form beautifully
curved bays of snow on either side. On its extreme end a mighty oak stretched
forward, as if to overshadow, with its branches, a spot which its roots were
forbidden to enter. It had released itself from the thraldom, that a growth of
centuries had imposed on the branches of the surrounding forest trees, and
threw its gnarled and fantastic arms abroad, in all the wildness of
unrestrained liberty. A dark spot of a few acres in extent at the southern
extremity of this beautiful flat, and immediately under the feet of our
travellers, alone showed, by its rippling surface, and the vapours which
exhaled from it, that what at first might seem a plain, was one of the mountain
lakes, locked in the frosts of winter. A narrow current rushed impetuously from
its bosom at the open place we have mentioned, and might be traced for a few
miles, as it wound its way towards the south through the real valley, by its
borders of hemlock and pine, and by the vapour which arose from its warmer
surface into the chill atmosphere of the hills. The banks of this lovely basin,
at its outlet. or southern end, were steep but not high; and in that direction
the land continued for many miles a narrow but level plain, along which the
settlers had scattered their humble habitations, with a profusion that bespoke
the quality of the soil, and the comparative facilities of intercourse.
Immediately on the bank of the lake, stood the village of Templeton. It
consisted of about fifty buildings, including those of every description,
chiefly built of wood, and which, in their architecture, bore not only strong
marks of the absence of taste, but also, by the slovenly and unfinished
appearance of most of the dwellings, indicated the hasty manner of their
construction. To the eye, they presented a variety of colours. A few were white
in both front and rear, but more bore that expensive colour on their fronts
only, while their economical but ambitious owners had covered the remaining
sides of their edifices with a dingy red. One or two were slowly assuming the
russet of age; while the uncovered beams that were to be seen through the
broken windows of their second stories, showed, that either the taste, or the
vanity of their proprietors, had led them to undertake a task which they were
unable to accomplish. The whole were grouped together in a manner that aped the
streets of a city, and were evidently so arranged, by the directions of one,
who looked far ahead to the wants of posterity, rather than to the convenience
of the present incumbents. Some three or four of the better sort of buildings,
in addition to the uniformity of their colour, were fitted with green blinds,
that were rather strangely contrasted to the chill aspect of the lake, the
mountains, the forests, and the wide fields of snow. Before the doors of these
pretending dwellings, were placed a few saplings either without branches, or
possessing only the feeble shoots of one or two summers’ growth, that looked
not unlike tall grenadiers on post, near the threshold of princes. In truth,
the occupants of these favoured habitations were the nobles of Templeton, as
Marmaduke was its king. They were the dwellings of two young men who were
cunning in the law; an equal number of that class who chaffered to supply the
wants of the community, under the significant title of store-keepers; and a
disciple of ĆĆsculapius, who, for a novelty, brought more subjects into the
world than he sent out of it. In the midst of this incongruous group of
dwellings, rose the mansion of the Judge, towering proudly above all its
neighbours. It stood in the centre of an enclosure that included several acres,
which were covered with fruit-trees. Some of these were of Indian origin, and
began already to assume the moss and inclination of age, therein forming a very
marked contrast to the infant plantations that peered over most of the picketed
fences in the village. In addition to this show of cultivation, were two rows
of young poplars, a tree but lately introduced into America, formally lining
either side of a pathway, which led from a gate, that opened on the principal street,
to the front door of the building. The house itself had been built entirely
under the superintendence of a Mr. Richard Jones, whom we have already
mentioned, and who, from a certain cleverness in small matters, and his
willingness to exert his talents, added to the circumstance of their being
sisters’ children, ordinarily superintended all the minor concerns of Marmaduke
Temple’s business. Richard was fond of saying, that this child of his
invention, consisted of nothing more nor less, than what should form the ground
work of a clergyman’s discourse; viz. a firstly, and a lastly. He had commenced
his labours in the first year of their residence, by erecting a tall, gaunt
edifice of wood, with its gable towards the highway. In this shelter, for it
was but little more, the family resided for three years. By the end of that
period, Richard had completed his design. He had availed himself, in this heavy
undertaking, of the experience of a certain wandering, eastern mechanic, who,
by exhibiting a few solid plates of English architecture, and talking learnedly
of friezes, entablatures, and particularly of the composite order, had obtained
a very undue influence over Richard’s taste, in every thing that pertained to
that branch of the fine arts. Not but what Mr. Jones affected to consider Mr.
Hiram Doolittle a perfect empyric in his profession; being in the constant
habit of listening to his treatises on architecture, with a kind of indulgent
smile, yet, either from an inability to oppose them by any thing plausible from
his own stores of learning, or from a secret admiration of their truth, Richard
generally submitted to the arguments of his coadjutor. Together, they had not
only erected a dwelling for Marmaduke, but had given a fashion to the
architecture of the country. The composite order, Mr. Doolittle would contend,
was an order composed of many others, and was intended to be the most useful,
for it admitted into its construction such alterations as convenience or
circumstances might require. To this proposition Richard very gravely assented;
and it was by this unison in sentiment that the composite order, or a style of
architecture that emanated from the carpenter’s own genius, with a few
suggestions from the other, became the fashion of the new county.
The house itself, or
the “lastly,” was of stone; large, square, formal, and far from uncomfortable.
These were four requisites, on which Marmaduke had insisted with a little more
than his ordinary pertinacity. But every thing else was peaceably resigned to
Richard and his associate. These worthies found but little opportunity for the
display of their talents on a stone edifice, excepting in the roof and in the
porch. The former, it was soon decided, should be made with four faces and a
platform, in order to hide a part of the building that all writers agreed was
an object that ought to be concealed. To this arrangement, Marmaduke objected
the heavy snows that lay for months, frequently covering the earth to a depth
of three or four feet. Happily, the facilities of the composite order presented
themselves to effect a compromise, and the rafters were lengthened, so as to
give a descent that should carry off the frozen element. But unluckily, some
mistake was made in the admeasurement of these material parts of the fabric,
and as one of the greatest recommendations of Hiram, was his ability to work by
the “square rule,” no opportunity was found of discovering the effect that was
to be produced by this offspring of compound genius, until the massive timbers
were raised, with much labour, on the four walls of the building. Then, indeed,
it was soon seen, that, in defiance of all rule, the roof was by far the most
conspicuous part of the edifice. Richard and his associate consoled themselves
with the belief, that the covering would aid in concealing this unnatural
elevation; but every shingle that was laid, was only multiplying objects to
look at. Richard essayed to remedy the evil with paint, and four different
colours were laid on by his own hands. The first was a sky-blue, in the vain
expectation that the eye might be cheated into the belief, it was the heavens
themselves that hung so imposingly over Marmaduke’s dwelling; the second was,
what he called, a “cloud-colour,” being nothing more nor less than an imitation
of light smoke; the third was what Richard termed an invisible green, which he
laid on with a belief, that the deformity might be blended with the back-ground
of pines, that rose, in tall grandeur, but a short distance in the rear of the
mansion house. But all these ingenious expedients entirely failed, and our
artists relinquished the desire to conceal, and attempted to ornament, the
offensive member. The last colour that Richard bestowed on the luckless roof,
was a “sun-shiny yellow;” so called, both from its resemblance to, and its
powers to resist, the rays of the great luminary. The platform, as well as the
eves of the house, were surmounted by gaudily painted railings, and the genius
of Hiram was exerted in the fabrication of divers urns and mouldings, that were
scattered profusely around this part of their labours. Richard had originally a
cunning expedient, by which the chimneys were intended to be so low, and so
situated, as to resemble ornaments on the balustrades; but comfort required
that the chimneys should rise with the roof, in order that the smoke might be
carried off, and they thus became four extremely conspicuous objects in the
view.
As this was much the
most important undertaking in which Mr. Jones was ever engaged, his failure
produced a correspondent degree of mortification. At first, he whispered among
his acquaintances, that it all proceeded from ignorance of the square rule on
the part of Hiram, but as his eye became gradually accustomed to the object, he
grew better satisfied with his labours, and instead of apologizing for the
defects, he commenced praising the beauties of the mansion house. He soon found
hearers; and, as wealth and comfort are at all times attractive, it was made a
model for imitation on a small scale. In less than two years from its erection,
he had the pleasure of standing on the elevated platform, and of looking down
on three humble imitators of its beauty,--Thus it is ever with fashion, which
even renders the faults of the great, subjects of admiration.
Marmaduke bore this
deformity in his dwelling with great good nature, and soon contrived, by his
own improvements, to give an air both of respectability and comfort to his
place of residence; still there was much of incongruity, even immediately about
the mansion house. Although poplars had been brought from Europe to ornament
the grounds, and willows and other trees were gradually springing up nigh the
dwelling, yet many a pile of snow betrayed the presence of the stump of a
mighty pine; and even, in one or two instances, unsightly remnants of trees
that had been partly destroyed by fire, were seen rearing their black and
glistening columns, for twenty or thirty feet above the pure white of the snow.
These, which in the language of the country are termed stubbs, abounded in the
open fields adjacent to the village, and were accompanied, occasionally, by the
ruin of a pine or a hemlock that had been stripped of its bark, and which waved
in melancholy grandeur its naked limbs to the blast, a skeleton of its former
glory. But these unpleasant additions to the view were unnoticed by the
delighted Elizabeth, who, as the horses slowly moved down the side of the
mountain, saw only in gross, the cluster of houses that lay like a map at her
feet; the fifty smokes, that were diagonally curling from the valley to the
clouds; the frozen lake, as it lay embedded in mountains of evergreen, with the
long shadows of the pines on its white surface, lengthening in the setting sun;
the dark riband of water, that gushed from the outlet, and was winding its way
already, towards the far distant Chesapeake--the altered, though still
remembered, scenes of her childhood and of joy!
Five years had here
wrought greater changes, than a century would produce in older countries, where
time and labour have given permanency to the works of man. To the young hunter
and the Judge the scene had less of novelty; though none ever emerge from the
dark forests of that mountain, and witness the glorious scenery of that
beauteous valley, as it burst unexpectedly upon them, without a feeling of
delight. The former cast one admiring glance from north to south, and then sunk
his face again beneath the folds of his coat; while the latter contemplated,
with philanthropic pleasure, the prospect of affluence and comfort, that was
expanding around him; the result of his own enterprise, and much of it, the
fruits of his own industry.
The cheerful sound of
sleigh bells, however, soon attracted the attention of the whole party, as they
came jingling up the sides of the mountain, at a rate that announced both a
powerful team and a hard driver. The bushes which lined the highway interrupted
the view, and they were close upon this vehicle, before they discovered who
were its occupants.
How now? whose mare’s
dead? what’s the matter?
Falstaff.
A few minutes resolved
whatever doubts our travellers entertained, as to the description of those who
were approaching them with such exhilarating sounds. A large lumber-sleigh,
drawn by four horses, was soon seen dashing through the leafless bushes, which
fringed the road that was here, as on the other side of the mountain, cut into
the hill. The leaders were of gray, and the pole-horses of a jet black. Bells,
innumerable, were suspended from every part of the harness, where one of those
tinkling balls could be placed; while the rapid movement of the equipage, in
defiance of the steep ascent, announced the desire of the driver to ring them
to the utmost. The first glance at this singular arrangement, satisfied the
Judge as to the character of those in the sleigh. It contained four male
figures. On one of those stools that are used at writing desks, lashed firmly
to the sides of the vehicle, was seated a little man, enveloped in a great coat
fringed with fur, in such a manner that no part of him was visible excepting a
face, of an unvarying red colour. There was an habitual upward look about the
head of this gentleman, as if it were dissatisfied with the proximity to the
earth that nature had decreed in his stature, and the expression of his
countenance was that of busy care. He was the charioteer, and he guided the
mettled animals that he drove along the precipice, with a fearless eye, and a
steady hand. Immediately behind him, with his face toward the other two, was a
tall figure, to whose appearance not even the duplicate over-coats which he
wore, aided by the corner of a horse blanket, could give the appearance of
strength. His face was protruding from beneath a woollen night-cap; and when he
turned to the vehicle of Marmaduke as the sleighs approached each other, it
seemed formed by nature to cut the atmosphere with the least possible
resistance. The eyes alone appeared to create an obstacle, as from either side
of his forehead their light, blue, glassy balls projected. The sallow of his
countenance was a colour too permanent to be affected even by the intense cold
of the evening. Opposite to this personage, sat a square figure of large
proportions. No part of his form was to be discovered through his over dress,
but a full face with an agreeable expression, that was illuminated by a pair of
animated black eyes of a lurking look, that gave the lie to every demure
feature in his countenance.-- A fair, jolly wig furnished a neat and rounded
outline to his visage, and he, as well as the other two, wore martin-skin caps
as outward coverings for their heads. The fourth, was a meek-looking,
long-visaged man, without any other protection from the cold than that which
was furnished by a black surtout, made with some little formality, but which
was rather thread-bare and rusty. He wore a hat of extremely decent
proportions, though frequent brushing had quite destroyed its nap. His face was
pale, with a little melancholy, but so slightly expressed, as to leave the
beholder in doubt, whether it proceeded from mental or bodily ailment. The air
had given it, just now, a slight and somewhat feverish flush. The character of
his whole appearance, especially contrasted to the air of humour in his next
companion, was that of an habitual, but subdued dejection. No sooner had the
two sleighs approached within speaking distance, than the driver of this
fantastic equipage shouted aloud--
“Draw up in the
quarry--draw up, thou king of the Greeks; draw into the quarry, Agamemnon, or I
shall never be able to pass you. Welcome home, cousin ’duke--welcome, welcome
my blackeyed Bess. Thou seest, Marmaduke, that I have taken the field with an
assorted cargo, to do thee honour. Monsieur Le Quoi has come out with only one
cap; Old Fritz would not stay to finish the bottle; and Mr. Grant has got to
put the “lastly” to his sermon, yet. Even all the horses would come--by-the-by,
Judge, I must sell these blacks for you, immediately; they both interfere, and
then the nigh one is a bad goer in double harness. I can get rid of them to--”
“Sell what thou wilt,
Dickon,” interrupted the cheerful voice of the Judge, “so that thou leavest me
my daughter and my lands. Ah! Fritz, my old friend, this is a kind compliment,
indeed, for seventy to pay to five and forty. Monsieur Le Quoi, I am your
servant. Mr. Grant,” lifting his cap, “I feel indebted to your attention.
Gentlemen, I make you acquainted with my child.-- Yours are names with which
she is very familiar.”
“Velcome, velcome,
Tchooge,” said the elder of the party, with a strong German accent. “Miss Petsy
vilt owe me a kiss.”
“And cheerfully will I
pay it, my good sir,” cried the soft voice of Elizabeth; which sounded in the
clear air of the hills, like tones of silver, amid the loud cries of Richard,
and the manly greetings of the gentleman. “I have always a kiss for my old
friend. Major Hartmann.”
By this time the
gentleman on the front seat, who had been addressed as Monsieur Le Quoi, rose
with some difficulty, owing to the impediment of his over coats, and steadying
himself by placing one hand on the stool of the charioteer, with the other, he
removed his cap, and bowing politely to the Judge, and profoundly to Elizabeth,
he said with a smile that opened a mouth of no common dimensions--
“Ver velcome home,
Monsieur Templ’. Ah! Mam’selle Liz’bet, you ver humble sairvant.”
“Cover thy poll, Gaul,
cover thy poll,” cried the driver, who was Mr. Richard Jones; “cover thy poll,
or the frost will pluck out the remnant of thy locks. Had the hairs on the head
of Absalom been as scarce as on this crown of thine, he might have been living
to this day.” The jokes of Richard never failed of exciting risibility, for if
others were unbending, he uniformly did honour to his own wit; and he enjoyed a
hearty laugh on the present occasion, while Mr. Le Quoi resumed his seat with a
polite reciprocation in his mirth. The clergyman, for such was the office of
Mr. Grant, modestly, though quite affectionately, exchanged his greetings with
the travellers also, when Richard prepared to turn the heads of his horses
homewards.
It was in the quarry
alone that he could effect this object, without ascending to the summit of the
mountain. A very considerable excavation had been made into the side of the
hill, at the point where Richard had succeeded in stopping the sleighs, from
which the stones used for building in the village, were ordinarily quarried,
and in which he now attempted to turn his team. Passing itself, was a task of
difficulty, and frequently of danger, in that narrow road; but Richard had to
meet the additional risk of turning his four-in-hand. The black very civilly
volunteered his services to take off the leaders, and the Judge very earnestly
seconded the measure, with his advice. Richard treated the proposal with great
disdain--
“Why, and wherefore,
cousin ’duke,” he exclaimed a little angrily; “the horses are as gentle as
lambs. You know that I broke the leaders myself, and the pole-horses are too
near my whip to be restive. Here is Mr. Le Quoi, now, who must know something
about driving, because he has rode out so often with me; I will leave it to Mr.
Le Quoi whether there is any danger.”
Thus appealed to, it
was not in the nature of the Frenchman to disappoint expectations that were so
confidently formed; although he sat looking down the precipice which fronted
him, as Richard turned his leaders into the quarry, with a pair of eyes that
stood at least half-an-inch from his visage. The German’s muscles were unmoved,
but his quick sight scanned each movement with an understanding expression,
that blended amusement at Richard’s dilemma, with anxiety at their situation.
Mr. Grant placed his hands on the side of the sleigh, in preparation for a
spring, but moral timidity deterred him from taking the leap, that bodily
apprehension strongly urged him to attempt.
Richard, by a sudden
application of his whip, succeedeed in forcing his leaders into the snow-bank
that covered the quarry; but the instant that the impatient animals suffered by
the crust, through which they broke at each step, they positively refused to
move an inch further in that direction. On the contrary, finding that the cries
and blows of their driver were redoubled at this juncture, the leaders backed
upon the pole-horses, who, in their turn, backed the sleigh. Only a single log
lay above the pile which upheld the road, on the side toward the valley, which
was now buried in the snow. The sleigh was easily forced across this slight
impediment; and before Richard became conscious of his danger, one half of the
vehicle was projected over a precipice, which fell, nearly perpendicularly,
more than a hundred feet. The Frenchman, who, by his position, had a full view
of their threatened flight, instinctively threw his body as far forward as
possible in the sleigh, and cried, “Ah! Mon cher monsieur Deeck! mon dieu!
prenez gardez vous!”
“Donner and blitzen,
Richart,” exclaimed the veteran German, looking over the side of the sleigh
with unusual emotion, “put you will preak ter sleigh and kilt ter horses.”
“Good Mr. Jones,” said
the clergyman, losing the slight flush that cold had given to his cheeks, “be
prudent, good sir--be careful.”
“Get up, you obstinate
devils!” cried Richard, catching a bird’s-eye view of his situation, applying
his whip with new vigour, and unconsciously kicking the stool on which he sat,
as if inclined to urge the inanimate wood forward; “Get up, I say--Cousin ’duke,
I shall have to sell the grays too; they are the worst broken horses-- Mr. Le
Quaw!” Richard was too much agitated to regard his pronunciation, of which he
was commonly a little vain; “Monsieur Le Quaw, pray get off my leg; you hold my
leg so tight that it’s no wonder I can’t guide the horses.
“Merciful Providence!”
exclaimed the Judge, “they will be all killed!”
Elizabeth gave a
piercing shriek, and the black of Agamemnon’s face changed to a muddy white.
At this critical
moment, the young hunter, who, during the salutations of the parties, had sat
in rather sullen silence, sprang from the sleigh of Marmaduke to the heads of
the refractory leaders. The horses, who were yet suffering under the
injudicious and somewhat random blows from Richard, were dancing up and down
with that ominous movement, that threatens a sudden and uncontrollable start,
and pressing backward instead of going into the quarry. The youth gave the
leaders a powerful jerk, and they plunged aside, by the path they had
themselves trodden, and reentered the road in the position in which they were
first halted. The sleigh was whirled from its dangerous position, and upset
with its runners outwards. The German and the divine were thrown rather
unceremoniously into the highway, but without danger to their bones. Richard
appeared in the air, for a moment, describing the segment of a circle, of which
the reins were the radii, and was landed at the distance of some fifteen feet,
in that snow-bank which the horses had dreaded, right end uppermost. Here, as
he instinctively grasped the reins, as drowning men seize at straws, he
admirably served the purpose of an anchor, to check the further career of his
steeds. The Frenchman who was on his legs in the act of springing from the
sleigh, took an aerial flight also, much in that attitude which boys assume
when they play leap-frog, and flying off in a tangent to the curvature of his
course, came into the snow bank head foremost, where he remained, exhibiting
two lathy legs on high, like scare-crows waving in a corn field. Major
Hartmann, whose self-possession had been admirably preserved during the whole
evolution, was the first of the party that gained his feet and his voice.
“Ter deyvel, Richart!”
he exclaimed, in a voice half serious, half comical, “put you unloat your
sleigh very hantily.”
It may be doubtful,
whether the attitude in which Mr. Grant continued for an instant after his
overthrow, was the one into which he had been thrown, or was assumed, in
humbling himself before the power that he reverenced, in thanksgivings at his
escape. When he rose from his knees, he began to gaze about him, with anxious
looks, after the welfare of his companions, while every joint in his body was
trembling with nervous agitation. There was also a slight confusion in the
faculties of Mr. Jones, that continued for some little time; but as the mist
gradually cleared from before his eyes, he saw that all was safe, and with an
air of great self-satisfaction, he cried, “Well-- that was neatly saved, any
how--it was a lucky thought in me to hold on the reins, or the fiery devils
would have been over the mountain by this time. How well I recovered myself,
cousin ’duke! Another moment would have been too late; but I knew just the spot
where to touch the off-leader; that blow under his right flank, and the sudden
jerk I gave with the reins, brought them round quite handsomely, I must own
myself.”
“Thou jerk! thou recover
thyself, Dickon!” cried the judge, whose fears were all vanished in mirth at
the discomfiture of the party; “but for that brave lad yonder, thou and thy
horses, or rather mine, would have assuredly been dashed to pieces--But where
is Monsieur Le Quoi?”
“Oh! mon cher Juge! Mon
ami!” cried a smothered voice, “praise be God I live; vill-a you, Mister
Agamemnon, be pleased come down ici, and help-a me on my foot?”
The divine and the
negro seized the incarcernted Gaul by his legs, and extricated him from a
snow-bank of three feet in depth, whence his voice had sounded as from the
tombs. The thoughts of Mr. Le Quoi, immediately on his liberation, were not
extremely collected; and when he reached the light, he threw his eyes upwards,
in order to examine the distance he had fallen. His good humour returned,
however, with a knowledge of his safety, though it was some little time before
he clearly comprehended the case.
“What, monsieur,” said
Richard, who was busily assisting the black in taking off the leaders; “are you
there? I thought I saw you flying up towards the top of the mountain, but just
now.”
“Praise be God, I no
fly down into de lake,” returned the Frenchman, with a visage that was divided
between pain, occasioned by a few large scratches that he had received in
forcing his head through the crust, and the look of complaisance that seemed
natural to his pliable features: “ah! mon cher Mister Deeck, vat you do
next?--dere be noting you no try.”
“The next thing, I
trust, will be to learn to drive,” said the Judge, who had busied himself in
throwing the buck, together with several articles of his baggage, from his own
sleigh into the snow; “here are seats for you all, gentlemen; the evening grows
piercingly cold, and the hour approaches for the service of Mr. Grant: we will
leave friend Jones to repair the damages, with the assistance of Agamemnon, and
hasten to a warm fire. Here, Dickon, are a few articles of Bess’s trumpery,
that you can throw into your sleigh when ready, and there is also a deer of my
taking, that I will thank you to bring--Aggy! remember there will be a visit
from Santaclaus to your stocking to-night, if you are smart and careful about
the buck, and get in, in season.”
The black grinned with
the consciousness of the bribe that was thus offered him for his silence on the
subject of the deer, while Richard, without, in the least, waiting for the
termination of his cousin’s speech, at once began his reply--
“Learn to drive, sayest
thou, cousin duke? Is there a man in the county who knows more of horse-flesh
than myself? Who broke in the filly, that no one else dare mount? though your
coachman did pretend that he had tamed her before I took her in hand, but any
body could see that he lied--he was a great liar, that John--what’s that, a buck?”--Richard
abandoned the horses, and ran to the spot where Marmaduke had thrown the deer: “It
is a buck indeed! I am amazed! Yes, here are two holes in him; he has fired
both barrels, and hit him each time. Ecod! how Marmaduke will brag! he is a
prodigious bragger about any small matter like this now; well, well, to think
that ’duke has killed a buck before christmas! There will be no such thing as
living with him--they are both bad shots though, mere chance --mere
chance;--now, I never fired twice at a cloven hoof in my life;--it is hit or
miss with me --dead or runaway:--had it been a bear, or a wild-cat, a man might
have wanted both barrels. Here! you Aggy! how far off was the Judge when this
buck was shot?”
“Eh! Massa Richard, may
be a ten rod,” cried the black, bending under one of the horses, with the
pretence of fastening a buckle, but in reality to conceal the broad grin that
opened a mouth from ear to ear.
“Ten rod!” echoed the
other; “why, Aggy, the deer I killed last winter was at twenty--yes! if any
thing it was nearer thirty than twenty. I wouldn’t shoot at a deer at ten rod:
besides, you may remember, Aggy, I only fired once.”
“Yes, Massa Richard, I’member
’em! Natty Bumppo fire t’oder gun. You know, sir, the folk say, Natty kill ’em.”
“The folks lie, you
black devil!” exclaimed Richard in great heat. “I have not shot even a gray
squirrel these four years, to which that old rascal has not laid claim, or some
one for him. This is a damn’d envious world that we live in-- people are always
for dividing the credit of a thing, in order to bring down merit to their own
level. Now they have a story about the Patent, that Hiram Doolittle helped to
plan the steeple to St. Paul’s; when Hiram knows that it is entirely mine; a
little taken from a print of its namesake in London, I own; but all the rest is
mine.”
“I don’t know where he
come from,” said the black, losing every mark of humour in au expression of
deep admiration, “but eb’ry body say, he wonnerful hansome.”
“And well they may say
so, Aggy,” cried Richard, leaving the buck, and walking up to the negro with
the air of a man who has new interest awakened within him. “I think I may say,
without bragging, that it is the handsomest and the most scientific country
church in America. I know that the Connecticut settlers talk about their
Weathersfield meeting-house; but I never believe more than half of what they
say, they are such unconscionable braggers. Just as you have got a thing done,
if they see it likely to be successful, they are always for interfering; and
then its ten to one but they lay claim to half, or even all of the credit. You
may remember, Aggy, when I painted the sign of the bold dragoon for Capt.
Hollister, there was that fellow, who was about town laying brick dust on the
houses, came one day and offered to mix what I call the streaky black, for the
tail and mane, and then, because it looks just like horse hair, he tells every
body that the sign was painted by himself and Squire Jones. If Marmaduke don’t
send that fellow off the Patent, he may ornament his village with his own
hands, for me.” Here Richard paused a moment, and cleared his throat by a loud
hem, while the negro, who was all this time busily engaged in preparing their
sleigh, proceeded with his work in respectful silence. Owing to the religious
scruples of the Judge, Aggy was the servant of Richard, who had his services
for a time, and who, of course, commanded a legal claim to the respect of the
young negro. But when any dispute between his lawful master and his real
benefactor occurred, the black felt too much deference for both to express any
opinion. In the mean while, Richard continued watching the negro as he fastened
buckle after buckle, until, stealing a look of consciousness toward the other,
he continued, “Now, if that young man, who was in your sleigh, is a real
Connecticut settler, he will be telling every body how he saved my horses,
when, if he had just let them alone for one half a minute longer, I would have
brought them in much better, without upsetting, with the whip and rein--it
spoils a horse to give him his head. I should not wonder if I had to sell the
whole team, just for that one jerk that he gave them.” Richard again paused,
and again hemmed; for his conscience smote him a little, for censuring a man
who had just saved his life--“Who is the lad, Aggy--I don’t remember to have
seen him before?”
The black recollected
the hint about Santaclaus; and while he briefly explained how they had taken
him on the top of the mountain, he forbore to add any thing concerning the
accident of the wound, only saying, that he believed the youth was a stranger.
It was so usual for men of the first rank to take into their sleighs any one
whom they found toiling through the snow, that Richard was perfectly satisfied with
this explanation. He heard Aggy, with great attention, and then remarked, “Well,
if the lad has not been spoiled by the people in Templeton, he may be a modest
young man, and as he certainly meant well, I shall take some notice of
him--perhaps he is land-hunting--I say, Aggy--may be he is out hunting?”
“Eh! yes, massa
Richard,” said the black, a little confused; for as Richard did all the
flogging, he stood in great terror of his master, in the main--“yes, sir, I b’lieve
he be.”
“Had he a pack and an ax?”
“No, sir, only he
rifle.”
“Rifle!” exclaimed
Richard, observing the confusion of the negro, which now amounted to terror. “By
Jove! he killed the deer. I knew that Marmaduke couldn’t kill a buck on the
jump --How was it, Aggy? tell me all about it, and I’ll roast ’duke quicker
than he can roast his saddle --How was it, Aggy? the lad shot the buck, and the
Judge bought it, ha! and is taking him down to get the pay?”
The pleasure of this
discovery had put Richard in such a good humour, that the negro’s fears in some
measure vanished, and he remembered the stocking. After a gulp or two, he made
out to reply--
“You forgit a two shot,
sir?”
“Don’t lie, you black
rascal!” cried Richard, stepping on the snow-bank to measure the distance from
his long lash to the negro’s back; “speak the truth, or I’ll trounce you.”
While speaking, the stock was slowly rising in Richard’s right hand, and the
lash drawing through his left, in the scientific manner with which drummers
apply the cat, and Agamemnon, after turning each side of himself towards his
master, and finding all equally unwilling to remain there, forgetful of his
great name, fairly gave in. In a very few words he made his master acquainted
with the truth, at the same time earnestly conjuring Richard to protect him
from the displeasure of the Judge.
“I’ll do it, boy, I’ll
do it,” cried the other, rubbing his hands with delight; “say nothing, but
leave me to manage ’duke--I have a damn’d great mind to leave the deer on the
hill, and to make the fellow send for his own carcass: but no, I will let
Marmaduke tell a few bouncers about it before I come out upon him. Come, hurry
in, Aggy, I must help to dress the lad’s wound; this Yankee doctor knows
nothing of surgery--I had to hold old Milligan’s leg for him, while he cut it
off.”-- Richard was now seated on the stool again, and the black taking the
hind seat, the steeds were put in motion towards home. As they dashed down the
hill, on a fast trot, the driver occasionally turned his face to Aggy, and
continued speaking; for, notwithstanding their recent rupture, the most perfect
cordiality was again existing between them. “This goes to prove that I turned
the horses with the reins, for no man who is shot in the right shoulder, can
have strength enough to bring round such obstinate devils. I knew I did it from
the first; but I did not want to multiply words with Marmaduke about it--Will
you bite, you villain?--hip, boys, hip! Old Natty too, that is the best of it--
Well, well--’duke will say no more about my deer --and the Judge fired both
barrels, and hit nothing but a poor lad, who was behind a pine tree. I must
help that quack to take out the buck shot for the poor fellow.” In this manner
Richard descended the mountain; the bells ringing and his tongue going, until
they entered the village, when the whole attention of the driver was devoted to
a display of his horsemanship, to the admiration of all the gaping women and
children, who thronged the windows, to witness the arrival of their landlord
and his daughter.
Nathaniel’s coat, sir,
was not fully made,
And Gabriel’s pumps
were all unfinish’d I’ th’ heel:
There was no link to
colour Peter’s hat.
And Walter’s dagger was
not come from sheathing:
There were none fine,
but Adam, Ralph and Gregory.
Shakespeare
After winding along the
side of the mountain, the road, on reaching the gentle declivity which lay at
the base of the hill, turned at a right angle to its former course, and shot
down an inclined plain, directly into the village of Templeton. The rapid
little stream that we have already mentioned, was crossed by a bridge of hewn
timber, which manifested, by its rude construction, and the unnecessary size of
its frame-work, both the value of labour, and the abundance of materials. This
little torrent, whose dark waters gushed in mimic turbulence over the
limestones that lined its bottom, was nothing less than one of the many sources
of the Susquehanna; a river, to which the Atlantic herself, has extended her
right arm, to welcome into her bosom. It was at this point, that the powerful
team of Mr. Jones brought him up to the more sober steeds of our travellers. A
small hill was risen, and the astonished Elizabeth found herself, at once, amid
the incongruous dwellings of the village. The street was laid out of the width
of an ordinary avenue to a city, notwithstanding that the eye might embrace in
one view, thousands, and tens of thousands of acres, that were yet tenanted
only by the beasts of the forest. But such had been the will of her father, and
such had also met the wishes of his followers. To them, the road, that made the
most rapid approaches to the condition of the old, or, as they expressed it,
the down countries, was the most pleasant; and surely nothing could look more
like civilization, than a city, even if it lay in a wilderness! The width of
the street, for so it was called, might have been one hundred feet; but the
track for the sleighs was much more limited. On either side of the highway,
were piled before the houses, huge heaps of logs that were daily increasing
than diminishing in size, notwithstanding the enormous fires that might be
seen, lighting every window through the dusk of the evening.
The last object at
which Elizabeth had gazed when they renewed their journey, after the rencontre
with Richard, was the sun, as it expanded in the refraction of the horizon, and
over whose disk, the dark umbrage of a pine was stealing, while it slowly sunk
behind the western hills. But his setting rays darted along the openings of the
mountain she was on, and lighted the shining covering of the birches, until
their smooth and glossy coats, nearly rivalled the mountain-sides in colour.
The out-line of each dark pine was delineated far in the depths of the forest;
and the rocks, too smooth and too perpendicular to retain the snow that had
fallen, brightened, as if smiling in scorn, at the changes in the season. But
at each step, as they descended, Elizabeth observed that they were leaving the
day behind them. Even the heartless, but bright rays of a December sun, were
missed, as they glided into the cold gloom of the valley. Along the summits of
the mountains in the eastern range, it is true, that the light still lingered,
receding step by step from the earth into the few clouds that were gathering, with
the evening mist, about the limited horizon; but the frozen lake lay without a
shadow on its chill bosom; the dwellings were becoming already gloomy and
indistinct; and the wood-cutters were shouldering their axes, and preparing to
enjoy, throughout the long evening before them, the comforts of those
exhilarating fires that their labour had been supplying with fuel. They paused
only to gaze at the passing sleighs, to lift their caps to Marmaduke, to
exchange familiar nods with Richard, and each disappeared in his dwelling. The
paper curtains dropped behind our travellers in every window, shutting from the
air even the fire-light of their cheerful apartments; and when the horses of
her father turned, with a rapid whirl, into the open gate of the mansion-house,
and nothing stood before her but the cold, dreary stone-walls of the building,
as she approached them through an avenue of young and leafless poplars,
Elizabeth felt as if all the loveliness of the mountain-view had vanished like
the fancies of a dream. Marmaduke retained so much of his early habits as to
reject the use of bells, but the equipage of Mr. Jones came dashing through the
gate after them, sending its jingling sounds through every cranny in the
building, and in a moment the dwelling was in an uproar.
On a stone platform, of
rather small proportions, considering the size of the building, Richard and
Hiram had, conjointly, reared four little columns of wood, which in their turn
supported the shingled roofs of the portico--this was the name that Mr. Jones
had thought proper to give to a very plain, covered, entrance to the mansion.--
The ascent to the platform was by five or six stone steps, somewhat hastily
laid together, and which the frost had already begun to move from their
symmetrical positions. But the evils of a cold climate, and a superficial
construction, did not end here. As the steps lowered, the platform necessarily
fell also, and the foundations actually left the superstructure suspended in
the air, leaving an open space of a foot from the base of the pillars to the
bases on which they had originally been placed. It was lucky for the whole
fabric, that the carpenter, who did the manual part of the labour, had fastened
the canopy of this classic entrance so firmly to the side of the house, that,
when the base deserted the superstructure in the manner we have described, and
the pillars, for the want of a foundation, were no longer of service to support
the roof, the roof was able to uphold the pillars. Here was indeed an
unfortunate gap left in the ornamental part of Richard’s column; but, like the
window in Aladdin’s palace, it seemed only left in order to prove the fertility
of its master’s resources. The composite order again offered its advantages,
and a second edition of the base was given, as the booksellers say, with
additions and improvements. It was necessarily larger, and it was properly
ornamented with mouldings: still the steps continued to yield, and, at the
moment when Elizabeth returned to her father’s door, a few rough wedges were
driven under the pillars to keep them steady, and to prevent their weight from
separating them from the pediment which they ought to have supported.
From the great door,
which opened into the porch, emerged two or three female domestics, and one
male. The latter was bare-headed, but evidently more dressed than usual, and in
the whole, was of so singular a formation and attire, as to deserve a more
minute description. He was about five feet in height, of a square and athletic
frame, with a pair of shoulders that would have fitted a grenadier. His low
stature was rendered the more striking by a bend forward that he was in the
habit of assuming, for no apparent reason, unless it might be in order to give
a greater freedom to his arms, in a particularly sweeping swing, that they
constantly practised when their master was in motion. His face was long, of a
fair complexion, burnt to a fiery red; with a snub nose, cocked into an
inveterate pug; a mouth of enormous dimensions, filled with fine teeth; and a
pair of blue eyes, that seemed to look about them, on surrounding objects, with
vast contempt. His head composed full one-fourth of his whole length, and the
queue that depended from its rear occupied another. He wore a coat of very
light drab cloth, with buttons as large as dollars, bearing the impression of a
“foul anchor.” The skirts were extremely long, reaching quite to the calf, and
were broad in proportion. Beneath, there were a vest and breeches of red plush,
somewhat worn and soiled. He had shoes with large buckles, and stockings of
blue and white stripes.
This odd-looking figure
reported himself to be a native of the county of Cornwall, in the island of
Great Britain. His boyhood had passed in the neighbourhood of the tin mines,
and his youth as the cabin-boy of a smuggler, between Falmouth and Guernsey.
From this trade he was impressed into the service of his king, and, for the
want of a better, had been taken into the cabin, first as a servant, and
finally as steward to the captain. Here he acquired the art of making chowder,
lobskous, and one or two other sea-dishes, and, as he was fond of saying, had
an opportunity of seeing the world. With the exception of one or two outports
in France, and an occasional visit to Portsmouth, Plymouth, and Deal, he had in
reality seen no more of mankind, however, than if he had been riding a donkey
in one of his native mines. But, being discharged from the navy at the peace of
’83, he declared, that, as he had seen all the civilized parts of the world, he
was inclined to a trip to the wilds of America. We will not trace him in his
brief wanderings, under the influence of that spirit of emigration, that
sometimes induces a dapper Cockney to quit his home, and lands him, before the
sound of Bow bells is fairly out of his ears, within the roar of the cataract
of Niagara, but shall only add, that, at a very early day, even before
Elizabeth had been sent to school, he had found his way into the family of
Marmaduke Temple. where, owing to a combination of qualities, he held. under
Mr. Jones, the office of majordomo. The name of this worthy was Benjamin
Penguillan, according to his own pronunciation; but, owing to a marvellous tale
that he was in the habit of relating, concerning the length of time he had to
labour to keep his ship from sinking after Rodney’s victory, he had universally
acquired the nickname of Ben Pump.
By the side of
Benjamin, and pressing forward as if a little jealous of her station, stood a
middle-aged woman, dressed in calico, rather violently contrasted in colour,
with a tall, meager, shapeless figure, sharp features, and a somewhat acute
expression in her physiognomy. Her teeth were mostly gone, and what did remain
were of a light yellow. The skin of her nose was drawn tightly over the member,
and then suffered to hang in large wrinkles in her cheeks and about her mouth.
She took snuff in such large quantities, as to create the impression, that she
owed the saffron of her lips and the adjacent parts, to this circumstance; but
it was the unvarying colour of her whole face. She presided over the female
part of the domestic arrangements, in the capacity of housekeeper; was a
spinster, and bore the name of Remarkable Pettibone. To Elizabeth she was an
entire stranger, having been introduced into the family since the death of her
mother.
In addition to these,
were three or four subordinate menials, mostly black, some appearing at the
principal door, and some running from the end of the building, where stood the
entrance to the cellar-kitchen.
Besides these, there
was a general rush from Richard’s kennel, accompanied with every canine tone,
from the howl of the wolf-dog to the petulant bark of the terrier. The master
received their boisterous salutations with a variety of imitations from his own
throat, when the dogs, probably from shame at being outdone, ceased their
outcry. One stately, powerful mastiff, who wore around his neck a brass collar,
with “M. T.” engraved in large letters on the rim; alone was silent. He walked
majestically, amid the confusion, to the side of the Judge, where, receiving a
kind pat or two, he turned to Elizabeth, who even stooped to kiss him, as she
called him kindly by the name of “Old Brave.” The animal seemed to know her, as
she ascended the steps, supported by Monsieur Le Quoi and her father, in order
to protect her from falling on the ice, with which they were covered. He looked
wistfully after her figure, and when the door closed on the whole party, he
laid himself in a kennel that was placed nigh by, as if conscious that the
house contained something of additional value to guard.
Elizabeth followed her
father, who paused a moment to whisper a message to one of his domestics, into
a large hall, that was dimly lighted by two candles, placed in high,
old-fashioned, brass candlesticks. The door closed, and the party were at once
removed from an atmosphere that was nearly at zero, to one of sixty degrees
above. In the centre of the hall stood an enormous stove, the sides of which
appeared to be quivering with the heat it emitted; from which a large, straight
pipe, leading through the ceiling above, carried off the smoke. An iron basin,
containing water, was placed on this furnace, for such only it could be called,
in order to preserve a proper humidity in the apartment. The room was carpeted,
and furnished with convenient, substantial furniture, of a great variety in its
appearance and materials; some of which was brought from the city, and the
remainder manufactured by the mechanics of Templeton. There was a sideboard of
mahogany, inlaid with ivory, and bearing enormous handles of glittering brass,
and groaning under piles of silver plate. Near it stood a set of prodigious
tables, made of the wild cherry, to imitate the imported wood of the sideboard,
but plain, and without ornament of any kind. Opposite to these stood a smaller
table, formed from a lighter coloured wood, through the grains of which the
wavy lines of the curled-maple of the mountains were undulating in precise
regularity. Near to this, in a corner, stood a heavy, old-fashioned,
brass-faced clock, encased in a high box, with the dark hue of the black-walnut
from the seashore. An enormous settee, or sofa, covered with light chintz,
stretched along the walls for near twenty feet on one side of the hall, and
chairs of wood, painted a light yellow, with black lines that were drawn by no
very steady hand, were ranged opposite, and in the intervals between the other
pieces of furniture. A Fahrenheit’s thermometer, in a mahogany case, and with a
barometer annexed, was hung against the wall, at some little distance from the
stove, which Benjamin consulted, every half-hour, with prodigious veneration.
Two small glass chandeliers were suspended at equal distances between the stove
and the outer doors, one of which opened at either end of the hall, and gilt
lustres were affixed to the frame-work of the numerous side doors that led from
the apartment. Some little display in architecture had been made in
constructing these frames and casings, which were surmounted with pediments, that
bore each a little pedestal in its centre. On these pedestals were small busts
in blacked plaster of Paris. The style of the pedestals, as well as the
selection of the busts, had been executed under the auspices of Mr. Jones. On
one stood Homer, a most striking likeness, Richard affirmed, “as any one might
see, for it was blind.” Another bore the image of a smooth visaged gentleman,
with a pointed beard, whom he called Shakspeare. A third ornament was an urn,
which, from its shape, Richard was accustomed to say, intended to represent
itself as holding the ashes of Dido. A fourth was certainly old Franklin, in
his cap and spectacles. A fifth as surely bore the dignified composure of the
face of Washington. A sixth was a non-descript, representing “a man with a
shirt-collar open,” to use the language of Richard, “with a laurel on his
head;--it was Julius Cćsar or Dr. Faustus; there were good reasons for
believing either.”
The walls were hung
with a dark, lead-coloured English paper, that represented Britannia weeping
over the tomb of Wolfe. The hero himself stood at a little distance from the
mourning goddess, at the edge of the paper. Each width contained the figure,
with the slight exception of one arm of the General running over on to the next
piece, so that when Richard essayed, with his own hands, to put together this
delicate outline, some difficulties occurred, that prevented a nice
conjunction, and Britannia had reason to lament, in addition to the loss of her
favourite’s life, numberless cruel amputations of his right arm.
The luckless cause of
these unnatural divisions announced his presence in the hall by a loud crack of
his whip, that startled the party, and his voice was first heard, exclaiming--
“Why, Benjamin! you Ben
Pump! is this the manner in which you receive the heiress? Excuse him, cousin
Elizabeth. The arrangements were too delicate and nice to be trusted to every
one; but now I am here, things will go on better.-- Come, light up, Mr.
Penguillan, light up, light up, and let us see one another’s faces. Well, ’duke,
I have brought home your deer; what is to be done with it, ha?”
“By the lord, Squire,”
commenced Benjamin in reply, first giving his mouth a wipe with the back of his
hand, “if this here thing had been ordered sum’at earlier in the day, it might
have been got up, d’ye see, to your liking. I had mustered all hands, and was
exercising candles, when you hove in sight; but when the women heard your
bells, they started an end, as if they were riding the boatswain’s colt; and,
if-so-be there is that man in the house, who can bring up a parcel of women
when they have got headway on them, until they’ve run out the end of their
rope, his name is not Benjamin Pump. But Miss Betsy here, must have altered
more than a privateer in disguise, since she has got on her woman’s duds, if
she will go to take offence with an old fellow, for the small matter of
lighting a few candles.”
Elizabeth and her
father continued silent, for both experienced the same sensations on entering
the hall. The former had resided one year in the building before she left home
for the school, and the figure of its late lamented mistress was missed by both
the husband and the child.
But candles had been
placed in the chandeliers and lustres, and the attendants were so far recovered
from their surprise as to recollect their use: the oversight was immediately
remedied, and in a minute the apartment was in a blaze of light.
The slight melancholy
of our heroine and her father was banished by this brilliant interruption; and
the whole party began to lay aside the numberless garments that they had worn
in the air.
During this operation,
Richard kept up a desultory dialogue with the different domestics, occasionally
throwing out a remark to the Judge concerning the deer; but as his conversation
at such moments was much like an accompaniment on a piano, a thing that is
heard without being attended to, we will not undertake the task of recording
his wonderfully diffuse discourse.
The instant that
Remarkable Pettibone had executed her portion of the labour in illuminating,
she returned to a position near Elizabeth, with the apparent motive of
receiving the clothes that the other threw aside, but in reality to examine,
with an air of mingled curiosity and jealousy, the appearance of the lady who
was to supplant her in the administration of their domestic economy. The
housekeeper felt a little appalled, when, after cloak, coats, shawls, and socks
had been taken off in succession, the large black hood was removed, and the
dark ringlets, shining like the raven’s wing, fell from her head, and left the
sweet but commanding features of the young lady exposed to view. Nothing could
be fairer and more spotless than the forehead of Elizabeth, and preserve the
appearance of life and health. Her nose would have been called Grecian, but for
a softly rounded swell, that gave in character to the feature what it lost in
beauty. Her mouth, at first sight, seemed only made for love; but the instant
that its muscles moved, every expression that womanly dignity could utter,
played around it, with the flexibility of female grace. It spoke not only to
the ear, but to the eye. So much, added to a form of exquisite proportions,
rather full and rounded for her years, and of the tallest medium height, she
inherited from her mother. Even the colour of her eye, the arched brows, and
the long silken lashes, came from the same source; but its expression was her
father’s. Inert and composed, it was soft, benevolent, and attractive; but it
could be roused, and that without much difficulty. At such moments it was still
beautiful, though it was beauty in its grandeur. As the last shawl fell aside,
and she stood, dressed in a rich blue riding-habit, that fitted her form with
the nicest exactness; her cheeks burning with roses, that bloomed the richer
for the heat of the hall, and her eyes slightly suffused with moisture, that
rendered their ordinary beauty more dazzling, and with every feature of her
speaking countenance illuminated by the lights that flared around her, Remarkable
felt that her own power had ended.
The business of
unrobing had been simultaneous. Marmaduke appeared in a suit of plain neat
black; Monsieur Le Quoi, in a coat of snuff-colour, covering a vest of
embroidery, with breeches, and silk stockings, and buckles--that were commonly
thought to be of paste. Major Hartmann wore a coat of sky-blue, with large
brass buttons, a club wig, and boots; and Mr. Richard Jones had set off his
dapper little form in a frock of bottle-green, with bullet buttons; by one of
which the sides were united over his well-rounded waist, opening above, so as
to show a jacket of red cloth, with an under vest of flannel, faced with green
velvet, and below, so as to exhibit a pair of buckskin breeches, with long,
soiled, white-top boots, and spurs; one of the latter a little bent, from its
recent attacks on the unfortunate stool.
When the young lady had
extricated herself from the duresse of her garments, she was at liberty to gaze
about her, and to examine not only the household over which she was to preside,
but also the air and manner in which their domestic arrangements were
conducted. Although there was much incongruity in the furniture and appearance
of the hall, there was nothing mean. The floor was carpeted, even in its remotest
corners. The brass candlesticks, the gilt lustres, and the glass chandeliers,
whatever might be their keeping as to propriety and taste, were admirably kept
as to all the purposes of use and comfort. They were all clean, and each
glittering, in the strong light of the apartment, with its peculiar lustre.
Compared with the chill aspect of the December night without, the warmth and
brilliancy of the apartment produced an effect that was not unlike enchantment.
Her eye had not time to detect in detail the little errors, which, in truth,
existed, but was glancing around her in delight, when an object arrested her
view, that was strongly contrasted to the smiling faces and neatly attired
personages who had thus assembled to do honour to the heiress of Templeton.
In a corner of the
hall, near to the grand entrance, stood the young hunter, unnoticed, and for
the moment apparently forgotten. But even the forgetfulness of the Judge,
which, under the influence of strong emotion, had banished the recollection of
the wound of this stranger, seemed surpassed by the absence of mind in the
youth himself. On entering the apartment he had mechanically lifted his cap,
and exposed a head, covered with hair that rivalled in colour and gloss the
locks of Elizabeth. Nothing could have wrought a greater transformation, than
the single act of removing the rough fox-skin cap. If there was much that was
prepossessing in the countenance of the young hunter, there was something noble
in the rounded outlines of his head and brow. The very air and manner with
which the member haughtily maintained itself over the coarse, and even wild
attire, in which the rest of his frame was clad, bespoke not only familiarity
with a splendour that in those new settlements was thought to be unequalled, but
something very like contempt also.
The hand that held the
cap, rested lightly on the little ivory-mounted piano of Elizabeth, with
neither rustic restraint, nor obtrusive vulgarity. A single finger touched the
instrument, as if accustomed to dwell on such places. His other arm was
extended to its utmost length, and the hand grasped the barrel of his long
rifle, with something like convulsive energy. The act and the attitude were
both involuntary, and evidently proceeded from a feeling much deeper than that
of vulgar surprise. His appearance, connected as it was with the rough exterior
of his dress, rendered him entirely distinct from the busy group that were
moving across the other end of the long hall, occupied in receiving the
travellers, and exchanging their welcomes; and Elizabeth, herself as much an
object to be looked at by others, continued to gaze at him in a kind of stupid
wonder. The contraction of the stranger’s brows increased, as his eyes moved
slowly from one object to another. For moments the expression of his
countenance was fierce, and then again it seemed to pass away in some painful
emotion. The arm, that was extended. bent, and brought the hand nigh to his
face, when his head dropped upon it, and concealed the wonderfully speaking
lineaments of his features.
“We forget, dear sir,
the strange gentleman,” (for her life Elizabeth could not call him otherwise,) “whom
we have brought here for assistance, and to whom we owe every attention.”
All eyes were instantly
turned in the direction of those of the speaker, and the youth, rather proudly,
elevated his head again, while he answered--
“My wound is trifling,
and I believe that Judge Temple sent for a physician the moment we arrived.”
“Certainly,” said
Marmaduke; “I have not forgotten the object of thy visit, young man, nor the
nature of my debt to thee.”
“Oh!” exclaimed
Richard, with something of a waggish leer, “thou owest the lad for the venison,
I suppose, that thou killed, cousin ’duke! Marmaduke! Marmaduke! That was a
marvellous tale of thine about the buck! Here, young man, are two dollars for
the deer, and Judge Temple can do no less than pay the doctor. I shall charge
you nothing for my services, but you shall not fare the worse for that. Come,
come, ’duke, don’t be down-hearted about it; if you missed the buck, you
contrived to shoot this poor fellow through a pine tree. Now I own that you
have beat me; I never did such a thing in all my life.”
“And I hope never will,”
returned the Judge, “if you are to experience the uneasiness that I have
suffered. But be of good cheer, my young friend, the injury must be but small,
as thou movest thy arm with apparent freedom.”
“Don’t make the matter
worse, ’duke, by pretending to talk about surgery,” interrupted Mr. Jones, with
a contemptuous wave of the hand; “it is a science that can only be learnt by
practice. You know that my grandfather was a doctor, but you haven’t got a drop
of medical blood in your veins; these kind of things run in families. All my
family by the father’s side had a knack at physic. There was my uncle that was
killed at Brandywine, he died twice as easy as any other man in the regiment,
only from knowing how to do the thing as it ought to be done.”
“I doubt not, Dickon,”
returned the Judge playfully, after meeting the bright smile, which, in spite
of himself, stole over the stranger’s features, “that thy family understood the
art of letting a life slip through their fingers with great facility.”
Richard heard him quite
coolly, and, putting a hand in either pocket of his surtout, so as to press
forward the skirts with an air of vast disdain, began to whistle a tune; but
the desire to reply overcame his philosophy, and with great heat he exclaimed--
“You may affect to
smile, Judge Temple, at hereditary virtues, if you please; but there is not a
man on your Patent who don’t know better.-- Here, even this young man, who has
never seen any thing but bears, and deers, and wood-chucks, knows better, than
not to believe in virtues being transmitted down in families. Don’t you, friend?”
“I believe that vice is
not,” said the stranger abruptly, his eye glancing keenly from the father to
the daughter.
“The Squire is right,
Judge,” observed Benjamin, with a knowing nod of his head towards Richard, that
bespoke the cordiality between them. “Now, in the old country, the King’s
Majesty touches for the evil, and that is a disorder that the greatest doctor
in the fleet, or, for the matter of that, admiral either, can’t cure; only the
King’s Majesty, or a man that’s been hung. Oh! yes, the Squire is right, for
if-so-be that he wasn’t, how is it that the seventh son always is a doctor,
whether he ships for the cock-pit or not? Now, when we fell in with the
mounsheers, under De Grass, d’ye see, we had aboard of us a doctor--”
“Very well, Benjamin,”
interrupted Elizabeth, glancing her eyes from the hunter to Monsieur Le Quoi,
who was most politely attending to what fell from each individual in
succession, “you shall tell me of that, and all your entertaining adventures
together; just now, a room must be prepared, in which the arm of this gentleman
can be dressed.”
“I will attend to that
myself, cousin Elizabeth,” observed Richard, somewhat haughtily.-- “The young
man shall not suffer, because Marmaduke chooses to be a little obstinate.
Follow me, my friend, and I will examine the hurt myself.”
“It will be well to
wait for the physician,” said the hunter coldly; “he cannot be distant; I will
save you the trouble.”
Richard paused, and
looked earnestly at the speaker, a little astonished at the language, and a
good deal appalled at the refusal. He instantly construed the latter into an
act of hostility, and, placing his hands in the pockets again, he walked up to
Mr. Grant, and putting his face close to the countenance of the divine, he said
in an under tone--
“Now mark my words:
there will be a story among the settlers, that all our necks would have been
broken, but for that fellow there--as if I did not know how to drive. Why, you
might have turned the horses yourself, sir; nothing was easier; it was only
pulling hard on the nigh rein, and touching the off flank of the leader. I
hope, my dear sir, you are not at all hurt by the upset the lad gave us?”
The reply was
interrupted by the entrance of the village physician.
--And about his shelves, A
beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots,
bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of
pack-thread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scattered
to make up a show.
Shakspeare
Doctor Elnathan Todd,
for such was the unworthy name of the man of physic, was commonly thought to
be, among the settlers, a gentleman of great mental endowments; and he was
assuredly of rare personal proportions. In height he measured, without his
shoes, exactly six feet and four inches. His hands, feet, and knees,
corresponded in every respect with this formidable stature; but every other
part of his frame appeared to have been intended for a man several sizes
smaller, if we except the length of the limbs. His shoulders were square, in
one sense at least, being in a right line from one side to the other; but they
were so narrow, that the long, dangling arms that they supported, seemed to
issue out of his back. His neck possessed, in an eminent degree, the property
of length to which we have alluded, and it was topped by a small bullet-head,
that exhibited, on one side, a bush of bristling brown hair, and on the other,
a short, twinkling visage, that appeared to maintain a constant struggle with
itself in order to look wise. He was the youngest son of a farmer in the
western part of Massachusetts, who, being in somewhat easy circumstances, had
allowed this boy to shoot up to the height we have mentioned, without the
ordinary interruptions of field-labour, wood-chopping, and such other toils as
were imposed on his brothers. Elnathan was indebted for this exemption from
labour, in some measure, to his extraordinary growth, which, leaving him pale,
inanimate, and listless, induced his tender mother to pronounce him “a sickly
boy, and one that was not equal to work, but who might arn a living,
comfortably enough, by taking to pleading law, or turning minister, or
doctoring, or some sitch-like easy calling.” Still there was a great
uncertainty which of these vocations the youth was best endowed to fill with
credit and profit; but, having no other employment, the strippling was
constantly lounging about the “homestead,” munching green apples, and hunting
for sorrel; when the same sagacious eye, that had brought to light his latent
talents, seized upon this circumstance, as a clue to direct his future path
through the turmoils of the world. “Elnathan was cut out for a doctor,” she
knew, “for he was for ever digging for yarbs, and tasting all kinds of things
that grow’d about the lots. Then again he had a nateral love for doctor-stuff,
for when she had left the bilious pills out for her man, all nicely covered
with maple sugar, just ready to take, Nathan had come in, and swallowed them,
for all the world as if they were nothing, while Ichabod (her husband) could
never get one down without making sitch desperate faces, that it was awful to
look on.”
This discovery decided
the matter. Elnathan, then about fifteen, was, much like a wild colt, caught
and trimmed, by clipping his bushy locks; dressed in a suit of homespun, died
in the butternut bark; furnished with a “New Testament,” and a “Webster’s
Spelling-Book,” and sent to school. As the boy was by nature quite shrewd
enough, and had previously, at odd times, laid the foundations of reading,
writing, and arithmetic, he was soon conspicuous in the school for his
learning. The delighted mother had the gratification of hearing, from the lips
of the master, that her son was a “prodigious boy, and far above all his class.”
He also thought that “the youth had a natural love for doctoring, as he had
known him frequently advise the smaller children against eating too much; and
once or twice, when the ignorant little things had persevered in opposition to
Elnathan’s advice, he had known her son to empty the school-baskets with his
own mouth, to prevent the consequences.”
Soon after this
comfortable declaration from his schoolmaster, the lad was removed to the house
of the village doctor, a gentleman whose early career had not been unlike that
of our hero, where he was to be seen, sometimes watering a horse, at others
watering medicines, blue, yellow, and red; then again he might be noticed,
lolling under an apple tree, with Ruddiman’s Latin Grammar in his hand, and a
corner of Denman’s Midwifery sticking out of the pocket of his coat;--for his
instructer held it absurd to teach his pupil how to despatch a patient
regularly from this world, before he knew how to bring him into it.
This kind of life
continued for a twelvemonth, when he suddenly appeared at meeting in a long
coat (and well did it deserve the name!) of black homespun, with little
bootees, bound with uncoloured calf-skin, for the want of red morocco.
Soon after, he was seen
shaving with a dull razor; and but three or four months elapsed before several
elderly ladies were observed hastening towards the house of a poor woman in the
village, while others were running to and fro in great apparent distress. One
or two boys were mounted, bareback, on horses, and sent off at speed in various
directions. Several indirect questions were put concerning where the physician
was last observed; but all would not do; and at length Elnathan was seen
issuing from his door, with a very grave air, preceded by a little white-headed
boy, who, out of breath, was trotting before him. The following day the youth
appeared in the street, as the highway was called, and the neighbourhood was
astonished in observing how much he had grown lately. The same week he bought a
new razor; and the succeeding Sunday he entered the meeting-house with a red
silk handkerchief in his hand, and with an extremely demure countenance. In the
evening he called upon a young woman of his own class in life, for there were
no others to be found, and, when he was left alone with the fair, he was
called, for the first time in his life, Doctor Todd, by her prudent mother. The
ice once broken in this manner, Elnathan was greeted from every mouth with his
official appellation.
Another year was passed
under the superintendence of the same master, during which the young physician
had the credit of “riding with the old doctor,” although they were generally
observed to travel different roads. At the end of that period, Dr. Todd
attained his legal majority. He then took a jaunt to Boston, to purchase
medicines, and, as some intimated, to walk the hospital; we know not how the
latter might have been, but if true, he soon walked through it, for he returned
within a fortnight, bringing with him a suspiciously looking box, that smelt
powerfully of brimstone.
The next Sunday he was
married; and the following morning he entered a one-horse sleigh with his
bride, having before him the box we have mentioned, with another filled with
home-made household linen, a paper-covered trunk, with a red umbrella lashed to
it, a pair of quite new saddle-bags, and a bandbox. The next intelligence that
his friends received of the bride and bride-groom groom was, that the latter
was “settled in the new countries, and well to do as a doctor, in Templetown,
in York state.”
If a templar would
smile at the qualifications of Marmaduke to fill the judicial seat that he
occupied, we are certain that a graduate of Leyden or Edinburgh would be
extremely amused with this true narration of the servitude of Elnathan in the
temple of Ćsculapius. But the same consolation was afforded to both the jurist
and the leech; for Dr. Todd was quite as much on a level with his compeers in
the profession in that country, as was Marmaduke with his brethren on the
bench.
Time and practice did
wonders for the physician. He was naturally humane, but possessed no small
share of moral courage; or, in other words, he was chary of the lives of his
patients, and never tried uncertain experiments on such members of society as
were considered useful; but once or twice, when a luckless vagrant had come
under his care, he was a little addicted to trying the effects of every vial in
his saddle-bags on the stranger’s constitution. Happily their number was small,
and in most cases their natures innocent. By these means Elnathan had acquired
a certain degree of knowledge in fevers and agues, and could talk with much
judgment concerning intermittents, remittents, tertians, quotidians, &c. In
certain cutaneous disorders, very prevalent in new settlements, he was
considered to be infallible; and there was no woman on the Patent, but would as
soon think of becoming a mother without a husband, as without the assistance of
Dr. Todd. In short, he was rearing, on this foundation of sand, a
superstructure, cemented by practice, though composed of somewhat brittle materials.
He, however, occasionally renewed his elementary studies, and, with the
observation of a shrewd mind, was applying his practice to his theory.
In surgery, having the
least experience, and it being a business that spoke directly to the senses, he
was most apt to distrust his own powers; but he had applied oils to several
burns, cut round the roots of sundry defective teeth, and sewed up the wounds
of numberless wood-choppers, with considerable eclat, when an unfortunate
jobber suffered a fracture of his leg, by the tree that he had been felling. It
was on this occasion that our hero encountered the greatest trial that his
nerves and moral feeling had ever sustained. In the hour of need he was,
however, not found wanting.-- Most of the amputations in the new settlements,
and they were quite frequent, were performed by some one practitioner, who,
possessing originally a reputation, was enabled by this circumstance to acquire
an experience that rendered him deserving of it; and Elnathan had been present at
one or two of these operations. But on the present occasion the man of practice
was not to be obtained, and the duty fell, as a matter of course, to the share
of Mr. Todd. He went to work with a kind of blind desperation, observing, at
the same time, all the externals of decent gravity and great skill. The
sufferer’s name was Milligan, and it was to this event that Richard alluded,
when he spoke of assisting the Doctor, at an amputation--by holding the leg!
The limb was certainly cut off, and the patient survived the operation. It was,
however, two years before poor Milligan ceased to complain that they had buried
the leg in so narrow a box, that it was straitened for room; he knew this to be
true, for he could feel the pain shooting up from the inhumed fragment into his
living members. Marmaduke suggested that the fault might lie in the living
arteries and nerves, but Richard, considering the amputation as part of his own
handy-work work, strongly repelled the insinuation, at the same time declaring,
that he had often heard of men who could tell when it was about to rain, by the
toes of amputated limbs. After two or three years, notwithstanding that
Milligan’s complaints gradually diminished, the leg was dug up, and a larger
box furnished. and from that hour no one had heard the sufferer utter another
complaint on the subject. This gave the public great confidence in Doctor Todd,
whose reputation was hourly increasing, and luckily for his patients, his
information also.
Notwithstanding Mr.
Todd’s six years’ practice, and his success with the leg, he was not a little
appalled, on entering the hall of the mansion-house house. It was glaring with
the light of day; it looked so splendid and imposing, compared with the hastily
built and scantily furnished apartments which he frequented in his ordinary
practice, and contained so many well-dressed persons, and anxiously looking
faces, that his usually firm nerves were a good deal discomposed. He had heard
from the messenger who summoned him, that it was a gun-shot wound, and had come
from his own home, wading through the snow, with his saddle-bags thrown over
his arm, while separated arteries, penetrated lungs, and injured vitals, were
whirling through his brain, as if he were stalking over a field of battle, instead
of Judge Temple’s peaceable enclosure.
The first object that
met his eye, as he moved into the room, was Elizabeth, in her riding-habit,
richly laced with gold cord, her fine form bending towards him, with her face
expressing deep anxiety in every one of its beautiful features. The enormous
bony knees of the physician struck each other with a noise that was audible;
for in the absent state of his mind, he mistook her for a general officer,
perforated with bullets, hastening from the field of battle to implore his
assistance. The delusion, however, was but momentary, and his eye glanced
rapidly from the daughter to the earnest dignity of the father’s countenance;
thence to the busy strut of Richard, who was cooling his impatience at the
hunter’s indifference to his offered assistance, by pacing the hall and
cracking his whip; from him to the Frenchman, who had stood for several minutes
unheeded with a chair for the lady; thence to Major Hartmann, who was very
coolly lighting a pipe three feet long by a candle in one of the chandeliers;
thence to Mr. Grant, who was turning over a manuscript with much earnestness at
one of the lustres; thence to Remarkable, who stood, with her arms demurely
folded before her, surveying with a look of admiration and envy the dress and
beauty of the young lady; and from her to Benjamin, who, with his feet standing
wide apart, and his arms a-kimho, was balancing his square little body, with
the indifference of one who was accustomed to wounds and bloodshed. All of
these seemed to be unhurt, and the operator began to breathe more freely; but
before he had time to take a second look, the Judge, advancing, shook him
kindly by the hand, and spoke.
“Thou art welcome, my
good sir, quite welcome, indeed; here is a youth, whom I have unfortunately
wounded in shooting a deer this evening, and who requires some of thy
assistance.”
“Shooting at a deer, ’duke,”
interrupted Richard, abruptly--“Shooting at a deer. Who do you think can
prescribe, unless he knows the truth of the case? It is always so, with some
people; they think a doctor can be deceived, with the same impunity as another
man.”
“Shooting at a deer
truly,” returned the Judge, with a smile, “although it is by no means certain
that I did not aid in destroying the buck; but the youth is injured by my hand,
be that as it may; and it is thy skill, that must cure him, and my pocket, that
shall amply reward thee for it.”
“Two ver good tings to
depend on,” observed Monsieur Le Quoi, bowing politely, with a sweep of his
head, to the Judge and the practitioner.
“I thank you, Monsieur,”
returned the Judge; “but we keep the young man in pain. Remarkable, thou wilt
please to provide linen, for lint and bandages.”
This remark caused a
cessation of the compliments, and induced the physician to turn an inquiring
eye in the direction of his patient. During the dialogue, the young hunter had
thrown aside his over coat, and now stood clad in a plain suit of the common,
light-coloured, homespun of the country, that was evidently but recently made.
His hand was on the lapels of his coat, in the attitude of removing the
garment, when he suddenly suspended the movement, and looked towards the
commiserating Elizabeth, who was standing in an unchanged posture, too much
absorbed with her anxious feelings to heed his actions. A slight colour
appeared, passing over the brow of the youth, as he spoke.
“Possibly the sight of
blood may alarm the lady; I will retire to another room, while the wound is
dressing.”
“By no means,” said
Doctor Todd, who, having discovered that his patient was far from being a man
of importance, felt wonderfully emboldened to perform his duty.--“The strong
light of these candles is favourable to the operation, and it is seldom that we
hard students enjoy good eyesight.”
While speaking,
Elnathan placed a pair of large iron-rimmed spectacles on his face, where they
dropped, as it were by long practice, to the extremity of his slim, pug nose;
and if they were of no service as assistants to his eyes, neither were they any
impediment to his vision; for his little, gray organs were twinkling above
them, like two stars emerging from the cover of an envious cloud. The action
was unheeded by all but Remarkable, who observed to Benjamin--
“Doctor Todd is a
comely man to look on, and a disp’ut pretty spoken one too. How well he seems
in spectacles. I declare, they give a grand look to a body’s face. I have quite
a great mind to try them myself.”
The speech of the
stranger recalled the recollection of Miss Temple, who started, as if from deep
abstraction, and, colouring excessively, she motioned to a young woman, who
served in the capacity of a maid, and retired, with an air of womanly reserve.
The field was now left
to the physician and his patient, while the different personages who remained,
gathered around the latter, with faces expressing the various degrees of
interest, that each one felt in his condition. Major Hartmann alone retained
his seat, where he continued to throw out vast quantities of smoke, now rolling
his eyes up to the ceiling, as if musing on the uncertainty of life, and now
bending them on the wounded man, with an expression, that bespoke some
consciousness of his situation.
In the mean time,
Elnathan, to whom the sight of a gun-shot wound was a perfect novelty,
commenced his preparations, with a solemnity and care that were worthy of the
occasion. An old shirt was procured by Benjamin, and placed in the hands of the
other, who tore divers bandages from it, with an exactitude, that marked both
his own skill, and the importance of the operation.
The moment Richard
heard the sound that was produced by rending the linen, he stepped up to the
group, with the air of one who well understood the business in hand. When this
preparatory measure was taken, Dr. Todd selected a piece of the shirt with
great care, and, handing it to Mr. Jones, without moving a muscle, said--
“Here, Squire Jones,
you are well acquainted with these things; will you please to scrape the lint?
It should be fine, and soft, you know, my dear sir; and be cautious that no
cotton gets in, or it may p’ison the wownd. The shirt has been made with cotton
thread, but you can easily pick it out.”
Richard assumed the
office, with a nod at his cousin, that said, quite plainly, “you see. this
fellow can’t get along without me;” and began to scrape the piece of linen on
his knee, with great diligence.
A table was now spread
by the practitioner, with vials, boxes of salve, and divers surgical
instruments. As the latter appeared, in succession, from a case of red morocco,
their owner held up each implement, to the strong light of the chandelier near
to which he stood, and examined it, with the nicest care and precision. A red
silk handkerchief was frequently applied to the glittering steel, as if to
remove from the polished surfaces, the least impediment, which might exist, to
the most delicate operation. After the rather scantily furnished pocket-case,
which contained these instruments, was exhausted, the physician turned to his
saddle-bags, and produced various vials, filled with liquids, of the most
radiant colours. These were arranged, in due order, by the side of the
murderous saws, knives, and scissors, when Elnathan stretched his long body to
its utmost elevation, placing his hand on the small of his back, as if for support,
and looked about him to discover what effect this display of his professional
skill, was likely to produce on the spectators.
“Upon my wort, toctor,”
observed Major Hartmann. with a roguish roll of his little black eyes, but with
every other feature of his face in a state of perfect rest, “put you have a
very pretty pocket pook of tools tere, and your toctor-stuff glitters, as if it
was petter for ter eyes as for ter pelly.”
Elnathan gave a
somewhat equivocal hem, before he replied--one that might have been equally
taken, for that kind of noise, which cowards are said to make, in order to
awaken their dormant courage, or for a natural effort, to clear the throat: if
for the latter, it was successful; for, turning his face to the veteran German,
he said--
“Very true, Major
Hartmann, very true. sir; a prudent man will always strive to make his remedies
agreeable to the eyes, though they may not altogether suit the stomach. It is
no small part of our art, sir,” and he now spoke with the confidence of a man
who understood his subject, “to reconcile the patient to what is for his own
good, though, at the same time, it may be unpalatable.”
“Sartain! Doctor Todd
is right,” said Remarkable, “and has scripter for what he says. The Bible tells
us, how things mought be sweet to the mouth, and bitter to the inwards.”
“True, true,”
interrupted the Judge, a little impatiently; “but here is a youth who needs no
deception to lure him to his own benefit. I see, by his eye, that he fears
nothing more than delay.”
The stranger had,
without assistance, bared his own shoulder, when the slight perforation,
produced by the passage of the buck-shot, was plainly visible. The intense cold
of the evening had stopped the bleeding, and Dr. Todd, casting a furtive glance
at the wound, thought it by no means so formidable an affair as he had
anticipated. Thus encouraged, he approached his patient, and made some
indication of an intention to trace the route that had been taken by the lead.
Remarkable often found
occasions, in after days, to recount the minutić of that celebrated operation;
and when she arrived at this point, she commonly proceeded as follows:--“And
then the Doctor tuck out of the pocket-book a long thing, like a
knitting-needle, with a button fastened to the end on’t; and then he pushed it
into the wownd; and then the young man looked awful; and then I thought I
should have swaned away-- I felt in sitch a disp’ut taking; and then the Doctor
had run it right through his shoulder, and shoved the bullet out on t’other side;
and so Doctor Todd cured the young man--of a ball that the Judge had shot into
him, for all the world, as easy as I could pick out a splinter, with my
darning-needle needle.”
Such were the
impressions of Remarkable on the subject; and such, doubtless, were the
opinions of most of those, who felt it necessary to entertain a species of
religious veneration for the abilities and skill of Elnathan; but such was far
from the truth.
When the physician
attempted to introduce the instrument, described by Remarkable, he was repulsed
by the stranger, with a good deal of decision, and some little contempt, in his
manner.
“I believe, sir,” he
said, “that a probe is not necessary; the shot has missed the bone, and has
passed directly through the arm, to the opposite side, where it remains, but
skin-deep, and whence, I should think, it might be easily extracted.”
“The gentleman knows
best,” said Dr. Todd, laying down the probe, with the air of a man who had
assumed it merely in compliance with forms; and, turning to Richard, he
fingered the lint, with the appearance of great care and foresight. “Admirably
well scraped, squire Jones! it is about the best lint I have ever seen. I want
your assistance, my good sir, to hold the patient’s arm, while I make an
incision for the ball. Now, I rather guess, there is not another gentleman
present, who could scrape the lint so well as squire Jones.”
“Such things run in
families,” observed Richard, rising with alacrity, to render the desired
assistance. “My father, and my grandfather before him, were both celebrated for
their knowledge of surgery; they were not, like Marmaduke here, puffed up with
an accidental thing, such as the time when he drew in the hip-joint of the man
who was thrown from his horse: that was the fall before you came into the
settlement, Doctor; but they were men who were taught the thing regularly,
spending half their lives in learning those litle niceties; though, for the
matter of that, my grandfather was a college-bred physician, and the best in
the colony, too--that is, in his neighbourhood.”
“So it goes with the
world, Squire,” cried Benjamin; “if-so-be that a man wants to walk the
quarter-deck with credit, d’ye see, and with regular built swabs on his
shoulders, he mus’nt think to do it, by getting in at the cabin-windows. There
are two ways to get into a top, besides the lubber-holes. The true way to walk
aft, is to begin forrard; tho’f it be only in an humble way, like myself, d’ye
see, which was, from being only a hander of top-gallant-sails, and a stower of
the flying-jib, to keeping the key of the Captain’s locker.”
“Benjamin speaks quite
to the purpose,” continued Richard, with a benevolent smile, directed to the
Doctor. “I dare say, that he has often seen shot extracted, in the different
ships in which he has served; suppose we get him to hold the basin; he must be
used to the sight of blood.”
“That he is, Squire,
that he is,” interrupted the ci-devant steward: “many’s the good shot, round,
double-headed, and grape, that I’ve seen the doctors at work on. For the matter
of that, I was in a boat, alongside the ship, when they cut out the
twelve-pound shot from the thigh of the Captain of the Foody-rong, one of
Mounsheer Ler Quaw’s countrymen, there!”
“A twelve-pound ball,
from the thigh of a human being!” exclaimed Mr. Grant, with great simplicity,
dropping the sermon he was again reading, and raising his spectacles, from
before his eyes, to the top of his forehead.
“A twelve-pounder!”
echoed Benjamin, staring around him, with much confidence; “a twelve-pounder!
ay! a twenty-four pound shot can easily be taken from a man’s body, if- o-be a
doctor only knows how. There’s Squire Jones, now, ask him, sir; he reads all
the books; ask him, if he never fell in with a page, that keeps the reckoning
of such things.”
“Certainly, more
important operations than that have been performed,” observed Richard; “the
Encyclopćdia mentions much more incredible circumstances than that, as, I dare
say, you know, Doctor Todd.”
“Certainly, there are
incredible tales told of such matters,” returned Elnathan, “though I cannot
say, that I have ever seen, myself, any thing larger than a musket bullet
extracted.”
During this discourse,
an incision had been made through the skin of the young hunter’s shoulder, and
the lead was laid bare. Elnathan now took into his hand, with a solemn air, a
pair of glittering forceps, and was in the act of applying them to the wound,
when a sudden motion of the patient, caused the shot to fall out of itself. The
long arm and broad hand of the operator were now of singular service; for the
latter expanded itself, and caught the lead, while at the same time, an
extremely ambiguous motion was made, by its brother, so as to leave it doubtful
to the spectator, how great was its agency in releasing the shot. Richard,
however, put the matter at rest, by exclaiming--
“Very neatly done,
Doctor! I have never seen a shot more neatly extracted; and, I dare say,
Benjamin will say the same.”
“Why, considering,”
returned Benjamin, “I must say, that it was ship-shape, and
Brister-fashion.--Now all that the Doctor has to do, is to clap a couple of
plugs in the shot-holes, and the lad will float in any gale, that blows in
these here hills.”
“I thank you, sir, for
what you have done,” said the youth, with a little distance: “But here is a
man, who will take me under his care, and spare you all, gentlemen, any further
trouble on my account”
The whole group turned
their heads, in surprise, and beheld, standing at one of the distant doors of
the hall, the person of Indian John.
From Susquehanna’s
utmost springs,
Where savage tribes
pursue their game,
His blanket tied with
yellow strings,
The shepherd of the
forest came.
Freneau
Before the Europeans,
or, to use a more significant term, the Christians, dispossessed the original
owners of the soil, all that section of country, which contains the New-England
States, and those of the Middle, which lie east of the mountains, was occupied
by two great nations of Indians, from whom numberless tribes had descended.
But, as the original distinctions between these nations, were marked by a
difference in language, as well as by repeated and bloody wars, they never were
known to amalgamate, until after the power and inroads of the whites had
reduced some of the tribes to a state of dependence, that rendered not only
their political, but, considering the wants and habits of a savage, their
animal existence also, extremely precarious.
These two great
divisions consisted, on the one side, of the Five, or, as they were afterwards
called, the Six Nations, and their allies; and, on the other, of the Lenni
Lenape, or Delawares, with the numerous and powerful tribes, that owned that
nation as their Grandfather. The former were generally called, by the
Anglo-Americans, Iroquois, or the Six Nations, and sometimes Mingoes. Their
appellation, among their rivals, seems generally to have been the Mengwe, or
Maqua. They consisted of the tribes, or, as their allies were fond of
asserting, in order to raise their consequence, of the several nations, of the
Mohawks, the Oneidas, the Onondagas, Cayugas, and Senecas; who ranked, in the
consideration, in the order with which they are named. The Tuscaroras were
admitted to this union, near a century after its formation, and thus completed
the number to six.
Of the Lenni Lenape,
or, as they were called by the whites, from the circumstance of their holding
their great council-fire on the banks of that river, the Delaware nation, the
principal tribes, besides that which bore the genetic name, were, the
Mahicanni, Mohicans or Mohegans, and the Nanticokes, or Néntigoes. Of these,
the latter held the country along the waters of the Chesapeake, and the
seashore; while the Mohegans occupied the district between the Hudson and the
ocean, including most of New-England. Of course, these two tribes were the
first who were dispossessed of their lands by the Europeans.
The wars of a portion
of the latter, are celebrated among us, as the wars of King Philip; but the
peaceful policy of William Penn. or Miquon, as he was termed by the natives,
effected its object, with less difficulty, though not with less certainty. As
the natives gradually disappeared from the country of the Mohegans, some
scattering families sought a refuge around the councilfire of the mother tribe,
or the Delawares.
This people had been
induced to suffer themselves to be called women, by their old enemies, the
Mingoes, or Iroquois, after the latter, having in vain tried the effects of
hostility, had recourse to artifice, in order to circumvent their rivals.--
According to this declaration, the Delawares were to cultivate the arts of
peace, and to intrust their defence, entirely, to the men, or warlike tribes of
the Six nations.
This state of things
continued until the war of the revolution, when the Lenni Lenape formally
asserted their independence, and fearlessly declared, that they were again men.
But, in a government, so peculiarly republican as the Indian polity, it was
not, at all times, an easy task, to restrain their members within the rules of
their nation. Several fierce and renowned warriors, of the Mohegans, finding
the conflict with the whites to be in vain, sought a refuge with their
Grandfather, and brought with them the feelings and principles, that had so
long distinguished them in their own tribe. These chieftains kept alive, in
some measure, the martial spirit of the Delawares; and would, at times, lead
small parties against their ancient enemies, or such other foes as incurred
their resentment.
Among these warriors,
was one race, particularly famous for their prowess, and for those qualities
that render an Indian hero celebrated. But time, disease, and want, had
conspired to thin their number; and the sole representative of this once
renowned family, now stood in the hall of Marmaduke Temple. He had, for a long
time been an associate of the white-men, particularly in their wars; and,
having been, at a season when his services were of importance, much noticed and
flattered, he had turned Christian, and was baptized by the name of John. He
had suffered severely in his family, during the recent war, having had every
soul to whom he was allied, cut off by an inroad of the enemy; and when the
last, lingering remnant of his nation, extinguished their fires, amongst the
hills of the Delaware, he alone had remained, with a determination of laying
his bones in that country, where his fathers had so long lived and governed.
It was only, however,
within a few months, that he had appeared among the mountains that surrounded
Templeton. To the hut of the old hunter, he seemed peculiarly welcome; and, as
the habits of the “Leather Stocking,” were so nearly assimilated to those of
the savages, the conjunction of their interests excited no surprise. They
resided in the same cabin, ate of the same food, and were chiefly occupied in
the same pursuits.
We have already
mentioned the baptismal name of this ancient chief; but in his conversations
with Natty, held in the language of the Delawares, he was heard uniformly to
call himself Chingachgook, which, interpreted, means the “Great Snake.” This
was a name that he had attained in his youth, by his skill and prowess in the
art of war; but when his brows began to wrinkle with time, and he stood alone,
the last of his family, and his particular tribe, the few Delawares, who yet
continued about the head-waters of their river, gave him the expressive
appellation of Mohegan. Perhaps there was something of deep feeling, excited in
the bosom of this inhabitant of the forest, by the sound of a name, that
recalled the idea of his nation in ruins, for he seldom used it himself--never,
indeed, excepting on the most solemn occasions; but the settlers had united,
according to the Christian custom, his baptismal with his national name, and to
them, he was generally known as John Mohegan, or, more familiarly as Indian
John.
From his long
association with the white men, the habits of Mohegan, were a mixture of the
civilized and savage states, though there was certainly a strong preponderance
in favour of the latter. In common with all his people, who dwelt within the
influence of the Anglo-Americans, he had acquired new wants, and his dress was
a mixture of his native fashions with European manufactures. Notwithstanding
the intense cold of the atmosphere without, his head was uncovered; but a
profusion of long, black, coarse hair, concealed his forehead, his crown, and
even hung about his cheeks, so as to convey the idea, to one who knew his
present and former conditions, that he encouraged its abundance, as a willing
veil, to hide the shame of a noble soul, mourning for a glory that it had once
known. His forehead, when it could be seen, appeared lofty, broad, and noble.
His nose was high, and of the kind called Roman, with nostrils, that expanded,
in his seventieth year, with the air of freedom that had distinguished them
when a youth. His mouth was large, but compressed, and possessing a great share
of expression and character, and, when opened, discovered a perfect set of
short, strong, and regular teeth. His chin was full, though not prominent; and
his face bore the infallible mark of his people, in its square, high cheek
bones. The eyes were not large, but their black orbs glittered in the rays of
the candles, as he gazed intently down the hall, like two balls of fire.
The instant that
Mohegan observed himself to be noticed by the group around the young stranger,
he dropped the blanket, which covered the upper part of his frame, from his
shoulders, suffering it to fall over his leggins, of untanned deerskin, where
it was retained by a belt of bark, that confined it to his waist, and moved
forward.
As he walked slowly
down the long hall, the unusually dignified and deliberate tread of the Indian,
surprised the spectators. His shoulders, and body to his waist, were entirely
bare, with the exception of a silver medallion of Washington, that was
suspended from his neck by a thong of buck-skin, and rested on his high chest,
amidst the scars of many wounds. His shoulders were rather broad and full; but
the arms, though straight and graceful, wanted the muscular appearance that
labour alone can give to a race of men. The medallion was the only ornament he
wore, although enormous slits in the rim of either ear, which suffered the
cartilages to fall for two inches below the members, were evidently used for
the purposes of decoration, in other days. In his hand he held a small basket,
of the ash-wood slips, coloured in divers fantastical conceits, with red and
black paints mingled with the white of the wood.
As this child of the
forest approached them, the whole party stood aside, and allowed him to
confront the evident object of his visit. He did not speak, however, but stood,
fixing his glowing eyes on the shoulder of the young hunter, and then turning
them intently on the countenance of the Judge. The latter was a good deal
astonished at this unusual departure from the ordinarily subdued and quiet
manner of the Indian; but soon recovering himself, he extended his hand, and
said--
“Thou art welcome,
John. This youth entertains a high opinion of thy skill, it seems, for he
prefers thee, to dress his wound, even to our good friend Dr. Todd.”
Mohegan now spoke, in
tolerable English, but in a low, monotonous, guttural tone:--
“The children of Miquon
do not love the sight of blood; and yet, the young eagle has been struck by the
hand that should do no evil!”
“Mohegan! old John!”
exclaimed the Judge, in horror, and turning his fine, manly, open countenance
to the other; “thinkest thou, that my hand has ever drawn human blood
willingly? For shame! for shame, old John! thy religion should have taught thee
better.”
“The evil spirit
sometimes lives in the best heart,” returned John, impressively, as he tried to
study the countenance of the Judge; “but, my brother speaks the truth; his hand
has never taken life, when awake; no! not even when the children of the great
English Father, were making the waters red with the blood of his people.”
“Surely, John,” said
Mr. Grant, with much earnestness, “you remember the divine command of our
Saviour, ‘judge not, lest ye be judged.’ What motive could Judge Temple have,
for injuring a youth like this; one to whom he is unknown, and from whom he can
receive neither injury nor favour?”
John listened
respectfully to the divine, and when he had concluded, the Indian stretched out
his arm, and said with energy--
“He is innocent--my
brother has not done this wrong.”
Marmaduke received the
offered hand of the other, with a benevolent smile, that showed, however he
might be astonished at his suspicion, he had ceased to resent it; while the
wounded youth stood, gazing from his red friend to his host, with an expression
of scornful pity, powerfully delineated in his countenance. No sooner was this
act of pacification exchanged, than John proceeded to discharge the duty, to
perform which he had come. Dr. Todd was far from manifesting any displeasure at
this invasion of his rights, but made way for the new leech, with an air that
expressed a willingness to gratify the humours of his patient, now that the
all-important part of the business was so successfully performed, and nothing
remained to be done, but what any child might effect. Indeed, he whispered as
much to Monsieur Le Quoi, when he said--
“It was fortunate that
the ball was extracted before this Indian came in; but any old woman can dress
the wound now. The young man, I hear, lives with John and Natty Bumppo, and it’s
always best to humour a patient, when it can be done discreetly--I say,
discreetly, Mounsheer.”
“Certainement,”
returned the Frenchman; “you seem ver happy, Mister Toad, in your practeece. I
should tink de elderly lady might ver well finish, vat you so skeelfully begin.”
But Richard had, at the
bottom, a great deal of veneration for the knowledge of Mohegan, especially in
external wounds; and retaining all his desire for a participation in glory, he
advanced nigh to the Indian, and said--
“Sago, sago, Mohegan!
sago, my good fellow! I am right glad you have come; give me a regular
physician, like Doctor Todd, to cut into flesh, and a native to heal the wound.
Do you remember, John, the time when I and you set the bone of Natty Bumppo’s
little finger, after he broke it by falling from the rock, when he was trying
to get the partridge down, that fell on the cliffs. I never could tell yet,
whether it was I or Natty, who killed that bird: he fired first, and the bird
stooped, but then it was rising again, just as I pulled trigger. I should have
claimed it, for a certainty, but Natty said the hole was too big for shot, and
he fired a single ball from his rifle; but the piece I carried then, didn’t
scatter, and I have known it to bore a hole through a board, when I’ve been
shooting at the mark, very much like rifle-bullets. Shall I help you, John? “You
know that I have a knack at these things.”
Mohegan heard this
disquisition quite patiently, and when Richard concluded, he held out the
basket, which contained his specifics, indicating, by a gesture, that he might
hold it. Mr. Jones was quite satisfied with this commission; and, ever after,
in speaking of the event, was used to say, that “Doctor Todd and I cut out the
bullet and I and Indian John dressed the wound.”
The patient was much
more deserving of that epithet, while under the hands of Mohegan, than while
suffering under the practice of the true physician. Indeed, the Indian gave him
but little opportunity for the exercise of a forbearing temper, as he had come
prepared for the occasion. His dressings were soon applied, and consisted only
of some pounded bark, moistened with a fluid that he had expressed from some of
the simples of the woods.
Among the native tribes
of the forest, there were always two kinds of leeches to be met with. The one
placed its whole dependence on the exercise of a supernatural power, and was
held in greater veneration than their practice could at all justify; but the
other was really endowed with great skill, in the ordinary complaints of the
human body, and were, more particularly, as Natty had intimated, “curous in
cuts and bruises.”
While John and Richard
were placing the dressings on the wound, Elnathan was acutely eyeing the
contents of Mohegan’s basket, which Mr. Jones, in his physical ardour, had
transferred to the Doctor, in order to hold, himself, one end of the bandages.
Here he was soon enabled to detect sundry fragments of wood and bark, of which
he, quite coolly, took possession, very possibly without any intention of
speaking at all upon the subject; but when he beheld the full, blue eye of
Marmaduke, watching his movements, he whispered to the Judge--
“It is not to be
denied, Judge Temple, but what the savages are knowing, in small matters of
physic. They hand these things down in their traditions. Now, in cancers, and
hydrophoby, they are quite ingenious. I will just take this bark home, and analyze
it; for, though it can’t be worth sixpence to the young man’s shoulder, it may
be good for the toothach, or rheumatis, or some of them complaints. A man
should never be above larning, even if it be from an Indian.”
It was fortunate for
Dr. Todd, that his principles were so liberal, as, coupled with his practice,
they were the means by which he acquired all his knowledge, and by which he was
gradually qualifying himself for the duties of his profession. The process to
which he subjected the specific, differed, however, greatly from the ordinary
rules of chemistry; for, instead of separating, he afterwards united the
component parts of Mohegan’s remedy, and thus was able to discover the tree
whence the Indian had taken it.
Some ten years after
this event, when civilization and its refinements had crept, or rather rushed,
into the settlements among these wild hills, an affair of honour occurred, and
Elnathan was seen to apply a salve to the wound that was received by one of the
parties, which had the flavour that was peculiar to the tree, or root, that
Mohegan had used. Ten years later still, when England and the United States
were again engaged in war, and the hordes of the western parts of the state of
NewYork, were rushing to the field, Elnathan, presuming on the reputation
obtained by these two operations, followed in the rear of a brigade of militia,
as its surgeon!
When Mohegan had
applied the bark, he freely relinquished to Richard the needle and thread, that
were used in sowing the bandages, for these were implements of which the native
but little understood the use; and, stepping back, with decent gravity, awaited
the completion of the business by the other.
“Reach me the scissors,”
said Mr. Jones, when he had finished, and finished for the second time, after
tying the linen in every shape and form that it could be placed; “reach me the
scissors, for here is a thread that must be cut off, or it might get under the
dressings, and inflame the wound. See, John, I have put the lint I scraped,
between two layers of the linen; for though the bark is certainly best for the
flesh, yet the lint will serve to keep the cold air from the wound. If any lint
will do it good, it is this lint; for I scraped it myself, and I will not turn
my back, at scraping lint, to any man on the Patent. But I ought to know how,
if any body ought, for my grandfather was a doctor, and my father had a natural
turn that way.”
“Here, Squire, is the
scissors,” said Remarkable, producing from beneath her petticoat of green
moreen, a pair of dull-looking shears; “well, upon my say so, you have sewed on
the rags, as well as a woman.”
“As well as a woman!”
echoed Richard, with indignation; “what do women know of such matters? and you
are proof of the truth of what I say. Who ever saw such a pair of shears used
about a wound? Dr. Todd, I will thank you for the scissors from the case. Now,
young man, I think you’ll do. The shot has been very neatly taken out,
although, perhaps, seeing I had a hand in it, I ought not to say so; and the wound
is most admirably dressed. You will soon be well again; though the jerk you
gave my leaders, must have a tendency to inflame the shoulder, yet, you will
do, you will do. You were rather flurried, I suppose, and not used to horses;
but I forgive the accident, for the motive:--no doubt, you had the best of
motives;--yes, yes, now you will do.”
“Then, gentlemen,” said
the wounded stranger, rising, and resuming his clothes, “it will be unnecessary
for me to trespass longer on your time and patience. There remains but one
thing more to be settled, and that is, our respective rights to the deer, Judge
Temple.”
“I acknowledge it to be
thine,” said Marmaduke; “and much more deeply am I indebted to thee, than for
this piece of venison. But in the morning thou wilt call here, and we can
adjust this, as well as more important matters. Elizabeth,”--for the young
lady, being apprised that the wound was dressed, had re-entered the hall,-- “thou
wilt order a repast, for this youth, before we proceed to the church; and Aggy
will have a sleigh prepared, to convey him to his friend.”
“But, sir, I cannot go
without a part of the deer,” returned the youth, seemingly struggling with his
own feelings: “I have already told you, that I needed the venison for myself.”
“Oh! we will not be
particular,” exclaimed Richard; “the Judge will pay you, in the morning, for
the whole deer; and, Remarkable, give the lad all of the animal excepting the
saddle: so, on the whole, I think, you may consider yourself as a very lucky
young man;--you have been shot, without being disabled; have had the wound
dressed in the best possible manner, here in the woods, as well as it would
have been done in the Philadelphia hospital, if not better; have sold your deer
at a high price and yet can keep most of the carcass, with the skin in the
bargain. ’Marky, tell Tom to give him the skin too; and in the morning, bring
the skin to me, and I will give you half-a-dollar for it, or at least,
three-and-six-pence. I want just such a skin, to cover the pillion that I am
making for cousin Bess.”
“I thank you, sir, for
your liberality, and, I trust, am also thankful for my escape,” returned the
stranger; “but you reserve the very part of the animal that I wish for my own
use. I must have the saddle myself.”
“Must!” echoed Richard;
“must is harder to be swallowed than the horns of the buck.”
“Yes, must,” repeated
the youth; when, turning his head proudly around him, as if to see who would
dare to controvert his rights, he met the astonished gaze of Elizabeth, and proceeded
more mildly--“that is, if a man is allowed the possession of that which his
hand hath killed, and the law will protect him in the enjoyment of his own.”
“The law will do so,”
said Judge Temple, with an air of mortification, mingled with surprise. “Benjamin,
see that the whole deer is placed in the sleigh; and have this youth conveyed
to the hut of Leather-stocking. But, young man, thou hast a name, and I shall
see you again, in order to compensate thee for the wrong I have done thee?”
“I am called Edwards,”
returned the hunter, “Oliver Edwards. I am easily to be seen, sir, for I live
nigh by, and am not afraid to show my face, having never injured any man.”
“It is we, who have
injured you sir,” said Elizabeth; “and the knowledge that you decline our
assistance would give my father great pain. He would gladly see you in the
morning.”
The young hunter gazed
at the fair speaker, until his earnest look brought the blood to her very
temples; when, recollecting himself, he bent his head, dropping his eyes to the
carpet, and replied--
“In the morning, then,
will I return, and see Judge Temple; and I will accept his offer of the sleigh,
in token of our amity.”
“Amity!” repeated
Marmaduke; “there was no malice in the act that injured thee, young man; there
should be none in the feelings which it may engender.”
“Forgive our
trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,” observed Mr. Grant, “is
the language of prayer, used by our Divine Master himself, and it should be the
golden rule of us, his humble followers.”
The stranger stood a
moment, lost in thought, and then, glancing his dark eyes, rather wildly,
around the hall, he bowed low to the divine, and moved from the apartment, with
an air that would not admit of detention.
“’Tis strange, that one
so young should harbour such feelings of resentment,” said Marmaduke, when the
door closed behind the stranger; “but while the pain is recent, and the sense
of the injury is so fresh, he must feel more strongly than in his cooler
moments. I doubt not, we shall see him, in the morning, more tractable.”
Elizabeth, to whom this
speech was addressed, did not reply, but moved slowly up the hall, by herself,
fixing her eyes on the little figure of the English ingrained carpet, that
covered the floor; while, on the other hand. Richard gave a loud crack with his
whip, as the stranger disappeared, and cried--
“Well, ’duke, you are
your own master, but I would have tried law for the saddle, before I would have
given it to the fellow. Do you not own the mountains, as well as the valleys?
are not the woods your own? what right has this chap, or the Leather-stocking,
to shoot in your woods, without your permission? Now, I have known a farmer, in
Pennsylvania, order a sportsman off his farm, with as little ceremony as I
would order Benjamin to put a log in the stove. By-the-by, Benjamin, see how
the thermometer stands. Now, if a man has a right to do this on a farm of a
hundred acres, what power must a landlord have, who owns sixty thousand--ay!
for the matter of that, including the late purchases, a hundred thousand? There
is Mohegan, to be-sure, he may have some right, being a native; but it’s little
the poor fellow can do now with his rifle. How is this managed in France,
Monsieur Le Quoi? do you let every body run over your land, in that country,
helter-skelter, as they do here, shooting the game, so that a gentleman has but
little or no chance with his gun?”
“Bah! diable, no,
Meester Deeck,” replied the Frenchman; “we give, in France, no liberty, except
to de ladi.”
“Yes, yes, to the
women, I know,” said Richard; “that is your Sallick law. I read, sir, all kinds
of books; of France, as well as England; of Greece, as well as Rome. But if I
were in ’duke’s place, I would stick up advertisements tomorrow morning, forbidding
all persons to shoot, or trespass, in any manner, on my woods. I could write
such an advertisement myself, in an hour, as would put a stop to the thing at
once.”
“Richart,” said Major
Hartmann, very coolly knocking the ashes from his pipe into the spittingbox by
his side, “now listen: I have livet seventy-five years on ter Mohawk, and in
ter woots.-- You hat petter mettle as mit ter deyvel, as mit ter hunters. Tey
live mit ter gun, and a rifle is petter as ter law.”
“A’nt Marmaduke a
Judge?” said Richard, indignantly. “Where is the use of being a Judge, or
having a Judge, if there is no law? Damn the fellow! I have a great mind to sue
him in the morning myself, before Squire Doolittle, for meddling with my
leaders. I am not afraid of his rifle. I can shoot too. I have hit a dollar,
many a time, at fifty rods.”
“Thou hast missed more
dollars than ever thou hast hit, Dickon,” exclaimed the cheerful voice of the
Judge again.--“But we will now take our evening’s repast, which, I perceive by
Remarkable’s physiognomy, is in the next room. Monsieur Le Quoi, Miss Temple
has a fair hand, at your service. Will you lead the way, my child?”
“Ah! ma chere Mam’selle,
but too happy to do so,” said the polite Frenchman, while he offered his hand; “it
is de consolashong, in my baneesh, to meet a smile from de fair ladi.”
Mr. Grant and Mohegan,
continued in the hall, while the remainder of the party withdrew to an eating
parlour, if we except Benjamin, who civilly remained, to close the rear after
the divine, and to open the front door, for the exit of the Indian.
“John,” said the
divine, when the figure of Judge Temple disappeared, the last of the group, “to-morrow
is the festival of the nativity of our blessed Redeemer, when the church has
appointed prayers and thanksgivings, to be offered up by her children, and when
all are invited to partake of the mystical elements. As you have taken up the
cross, and become a follower of good, and an eschewer of evil, John, I trust I
shall see you before the altar, with a contrite heart and a meek spirit.”
“John will come,” said
the Indian, betraying no surprise, though he did not understand all the terms
used by the other.
“Yes,” continued Mr.
Grant, laying his hand gently on the tawny shoulder of the aged chief, “but it is
not enough to be there in the body only; you must come in the spirit, and in
truth. The Redeemer died for all, for the poor Indian, as well as for the white
man. Heaven knows no difference in colour; nor must earth witness a separation
of the church. It is good and profitable, John, to freshen the understanding,
and support the wavering, by the observance of our holy festivals; but all form
is but stench, in the nostrils of the Holy One, unless it be accompanied by a
devout and humble spirit.”
The Indian stepped back
a little, and, raising his body to its utmost powers of erection, he stretched
his right arm on high, and dropped his fore-finger downward, as if pointing
from the heavens, and striking his other hand on his naked breast, he said,
with energy--
“The eye of the Great
Spirit can see from the clouds;--the bosom of Mohegan is bare!”
“It is well, John, and
I hope you will receive profit and consolation from the performance of this
duty. The Great Spirit overlooks none of his children; and the man of the woods
is as much an object of his care, as he who dwells in a palace. I wish you a
good night, and pray God to bless you.”
The Indian bent his
head, and they separated-- the one to seek his hut, and the other to join the
party at the supper-table. While Benjamin was opening the door for the passage
of the chief, he cried, in a tone that was meant to be quite consoling--
“The parson says the
word that is true, John. If-so-be that they took count of the colour of a skin
in heaven, why, they might refuse to muster on their books a christian-born,
like myself, just for the matter of a little tan, from cruising in warm
latitudes; though, for the matter of that, this damned nor-wester is enough to
whiten the skin of a blackamoor. Let the reefs out of your blanket, man, or
your red hide will hardly weather the night, without a touch from the frost.”
For here the exile met
from every clime,
And spoke, in
friendship, every distant tongue.
Campbell
We have made our
readers acquainted with some variety in character and nations, in introducing
the most important personages of this legend to their notice: but, in order to
establish the fidelity of our narrative, we will briefly attempt to explain the
“why and wherefore” of so motley a dramatis personć.
Europe was, at the
period of our tale, in the commencement of that mighty commotion which
afterwards shook her political institutions to their centre. Louis the
Sixteenth had been beheaded, and a nation, once esteemed the most refined
amongst the civilized people of the world, was changing her character, and
substituting cruelty for mercy, and subtlety and ferocity for magnanimity and
courage. Thousands of Frenchmen were compelled to seek protection in distant
lands. Among the crowds who fled from France and her islands, to the United
States of America, was the gentleman whom we have already mentioned as Monsieur
Le Quoi. He had been recommended to the favour of Judge Temple, by the head of
an eminent mercantile house in New-York, with whom Marmaduke was in habits of
intimacy, and accustomed to an exchange of good offices. At his first interview
with the Frenchman, our Judge had discovered him to be a man of breeding, and
one who had seen much more prosperous days in his own country. From certain
hints that had escaped him, Monsieur Le Quoi was suspected of having been a
West-India planter, great numbers of whom had fled from St. Domingo and the
other islands, and were now living in the Union, in a state of comparative
poverty, and some in absolute want. The latter was not, however, the lot of
Monsieur Le Quoi. He had but little, he acknowledged, but that little was
enough to furnish, in the language of the country, an “assortment for a store.”
The knowledge of
Marmaduke was eminently practical, and there was no part of a settler’s life
with which he was not familiar. Under his direction, Monsieur Le Quoi made some
purchases, consisting of a few cloths; some groceries, with a good deal of tea
and tobacco; a quantity of ironware, among which was a large proportion of
Barlow’s jack-knives, potash-kettles, and spiders; a very formidable collection
of crockery, of the coarsest quality, and most uncouth forms; together with
every other common article that the art of man has devised for his wants, not
forgetting the luxuries of looking-glasses and Jew’sharps. With this collection
of valuables, Monsieur Le Quoi had stepped behind a counter, and, with a
wonderful pliability of temperament, had dropped into his assumed character as
gracefully as he had ever moved in any other. The gentleness and suavity of his
manners rendered him extremely popular; besides this, the women soon discovered
that he had a taste. His calicoes were the finest, or, in other words, the most
showy, of any that were brought into the country; and it were impossible to
look at the prices, asked for his goods, by “so pretty a spoken man.” Through
these conjoint means, the affairs of Monsieur Le Quoi were again in a
prosperous condition, and he was looked up to by the settlers as the second
best man on the “Patent.”
This term, Patent,
which we have already used, and for which we may have further occasion, meant
the district of country that had been originally granted to old Major
Effingham, by the “King’s letters patent,” and which had now become, by
purchase under the act of confiscation, the property of Marmaduke Temple. It
was a term in common use, throughout the new parts of the state, and was
usually annexed to the landlord’s name, as “Temple’s, or Effingham’s Patent.”
Major Hartmann was the
descendant of a man, who, in company with a number of his countrymen, had
migrated, with their families, from the banks of the Rhine, to those of the
Mohawk. This transmigration had occurred as far back as the reign of Queen
Anne; and their descendants were now living, in great peace and plenty, on the
fertile borders of that beautiful stream.
The Germans, or “High
Dutchers,” as they were called, to distinguish them from the original, or Low
Dutch colonists, were a very peculiar people. They possessed all the gravity of
the latter, without any of their phlegm; and, like them, the “High Dutchers”
were industrious, honest, and economical.
Fritz, or Frederick
Hartmann, was an epitome of all the vices and virtues, foibles and excellences,
of his race. He was passionate, though silent, obstinate, and a good deal
suspicious of strangers; of immoveable courage, inflexible honesty, and
undeviating in his friendships. Indeed, there was no change about him, unless
it were from grave to gay. He was serious by months, and jolly by weeks. He
had, early in their acquaintance, formed an attachment for Marmaduke Temple,
who was the only man, that could not talk High Dutch, that ever gained his
entire confidence. Four times in each year, at periods equi-distant, he left
his low stone dwelling, on the banks of the Mohawk, and travelled the thirty
miles, through the hills, to the door of the mansion-house in Templeton. Here
he generally staid a week, and was reputed to spend much of that time in
riotous living, countenanced by Mr. Richard Jones. But every one loved him,
even to Remarkable Pettibone, to whom he occasioned some additional trouble; he
was so frank, so sincere, and, at times, so mirthful. He was now in his regular
Christmas visit, and had not been in the village an hour, when Richard summoned
him to fill a seat in the sleigh, to meet the landlord and his daughter.
Before explaining the
character and situation of Mr. Grant, it will be necessary to recur to times
far back in the brief history of the settlement.
There seems to be a
tendency in human nature to endeavour to provide for the wants of this world,
before our attention is turned to the business of the other. Religion was a
quality but little cultivated, amid the stumps of Temple’s Patent, for the
first few years of its settlement; but as most of its inhabitants were from the
moral states of Connecticut and Massachusetts, when the wants of nature were
satisfied, they began seriously to turn their attention to the introduction of
those customs and observances, which had been the principal care of their
forefathers. There was certainly a great variety of opinions, on the subject of
grace and free-will amongst the tenantry of Marmaduke; and, when we take into
consideration the variety of the religious instruction which they received, it
can easily be seen, that it could not well be otherwise.
Soon after the village
had been formally laid out, into the streets and blocks that resembled a city,
a meeting of its inhabitants had been convened, to take into consideration the
propriety of establishing an Academy! This measure originated with Richard,
who, in truth, was much disposed to have the institution designated a
University, or at least a College. Meeting after meeting was held, for this
purpose, year after year. The resolutions of these assemblages appeared in the
most conspicuous columns of a little, bluelooking newspaper, that was already
issued weekly from the garret of a dwelling-house in the village, and which the
traveller might as often see, stuck into the fissure of a stake, that had been
erected, at the point where the footpath from the log cabin of some settler
entered the highway, as a post-office for an individual. Sometimes the stake
supported a small box, and a whole neighbourhood received a weekly supply, for
their literary wants, at this point, where the man who “rides post,” regularly
deposited a bundle of the precious commodity. To these flourishing resolutions,
which briefly recounted the general utility of education, the political and
geographical rights of the village of Templeton, to a participation in the
favours of the regents of the university, and the salubrity of the air, and
wholesomeness of the water, together with the cheapness of food, and the
superior state of morals in the neighbourhood, were uniformly annexed, in large
Roman capitals, the names of Marmaduke Temple, as chairman, and Richard Jones,
as secretary.
Happily for the success
of this undertaking, the regents were not accustomed to resist these appeals to
their generosity, whenever there was the prospect of a donation to second the
request. Eventually, Judge Temple concluded to bestow the necessary land, and
to erect the required edifice chiefly at his own expense. The skill of Mr., or,
as he was now called, from the circumstance of his having received the
commission of a justice of the peace, Squire Doolittle, was again put in
requisition, and the science of Mr. Jones was once more restored to.
We shall not recount
the different devices of these architects on the occasion; nor would it be
decorous so to do, seeing that there was a convocation of the society of the
ancient and honourable fraternity “of the free and accepted masons,” at the
head of whom was Richard, in the capacity of master, doubtless to approve or
reject, such of the plans as, in their wisdom, they deemed to be for the best.
The knotty point was, however, soon decided; and, on the appointed day, the
brotherhood marched, in great state, displaying sundry banners and mysterious
symbols, each man with a little mimic apron before him, from a most cunningly
contrived appartment in the garret of the “Bold Dragoon,” an inn, kept by one
Captain Hollister, to the site of the intended edifice. Here Richard laid the
corner-stone, with great state, amidst an assemblage of more than half the men,
and all the women, within ten miles of Templeton.
In the course of the
succeeding week, there was another meeting of the people, not omitting swarms
of the gentler sex, when the abilities of Hiram, at the “square rule,” were put
to the test of experiment. The frame fitted well; and the skeleton of the
fabric was reared without a single accident, if we except a few falls from
horses, while the labourers were returning home in the dusk of the evening.
From this time, the work advanced with great rapidity, and in the course of the
season, the labour was completed; the edifice standing, in all its beauty and
proportions, the boast of the village, the study of the young aspirants for
architectural fame, and the admiration of every settler on the Patent.
It was a long, narrow
house, of wood, painted white, and more than half windows; and when the
observer stood at the western side of the building, the edifice offered but a
small obstacle to a full view of the rising sun. It was, in truth, but a very
comfortless, open place, through which the daylight shone with prodigious
facility. On its front were divers ornaments, in wood, designed by Richard, and
executed by Hiram; but a window in the centre of the second story, immediately
over the door, or grand entrance, and the “steeple,” were the pride of the
building. The former was, we believe, of the composite order, for it included
in its composition a multitude of ornaments, and a great variety in figure. It
consisted of an arched compartment in the centre, with a square, and smaller
division on either side, the whole encased in heavy frames, deeply and
laboriously moulded in pine wood, and lighted with a vast number of blurred and
green-looking glass, of those dimensions which are commonly called “eight by
ten.” Blinds, that were intended to be painted green, kept the window in a
state of preservation, and probably might have contributed to the effect of the
whole, had not the failure in the public funds, which seems always to be
incidental to any undertaking of this kind, left them in the sombre coat of
lead colour with which they had been originally clothed. The “steeple” was a
little cupola, reared on the very centre of the roof, on four tall pillars of
pine, that were fluted with a gouge, and loaded with mouldings. On the tops of
the columns was reared a dome, or cupola, resembling in shape an inverted
tea-cup without its bottom, from the centre of which projected a spire, or
shaft of wood, transfixed with two iron rods, that bore on their ends the
letters N. S. E. and W., in the same metal. The whole was surmounted by an
imitation of one of the finny tribe, carved in wood, by the hands of Richard,
and painted, what he called, a “scale-colour.” This animal Mr. Jones affirmed
to be an admirable resemblance of a great favourite of the epicures in that
country, which bore the title of “lake-fish;” and doubtless the assertion was
true; for, although intended to answer the purposes of a weathercock, the fish
was observed invariably to look, with a longing eye, in the direction of the
beautiful sheet of water that lay imbedded in the mountains of Templeton.
For a short time after
the charter of the regents was received, the trustees of this institution
employed a graduate of one of the eastern colleges, to instruct such youth as
aspired to knowledge, within the walls of the edifice which we have described.
The upper part of the building was in one apartment, and was intended for
gala-days and exhibitions; and the lower contained two, that were intended for
the great divisions of education, viz. the Latin and the English scholars. The
former were never very numerous; though the sounds of “nominative, pennaa;
genitive, penny,” were soon heard to issue from the windows of the room, to the
great delight and manifest edification of the passengers.
Only one labourer in
this temple of Minerva, however, was known to get so far as to attempt a
translation of Virgil. He, indeed, appeared at the annual exhibition, to the
prodigious exultation of all his relatives, a farmer’s family in the vicinity,
and repeated the whole of the first eclogue from memory, observing the
intonations of the dialogue with much judgment and effect. The sounds, as they
proceeded from his mouth, of
“Titty-ree too
patty-lee ree-coo-bans sub teg-mi-nee faa-gy
Syl-ves-trem ten-oo-i
moo-sam med-i taa-ris aa-ve-ny”--
were the last that had been heard in that building, as probably they
were the first that had ever been heard, in the same language, there or any
where else. For by this time the trustees had discovered, that they had
anticipated the age, and the instructor, or principal, was superseded by a
master, who went on to teach the more humble lesson of “the more haste the
worse speed,” in good, plain English. From
this time, until the date of our incidents, the Academy was a common country
school; and the great room of the building was sometimes used as a court-room,
on extraordinary trials; sometimes for conferences of the religious and the
morally disposed in the evening; at others for a ball in the afternoon, given
under the auspices of Richard; and on Sundays, invariably, as a place of public
worship.
When an itinerant
priest, of the persuasion of the Methodists, Baptists, Universalists, or of the
more numerous sect of the Presbyterians, was accidentally in the neighbourhood,
he was ordinarily invited to officiate, and was commonly rewarded for his
services by a collection in a hat, before the congregation separated. When no
such regular minister offered, a kind of colloquial prayer or two was made, by
some of the more gifted members, and a sermon was usually read, from Sterne, by
Mr Richard Jones.
The consequence of this
desultory kind of priesthood was, as we have already intimated, a great
diversity in opinion, on the more abstruse points of our faith. Each sect had
its adherents, though neither was regularly organized and disciplined. Of the
religious education of Marmaduke, we have already written, nor was the doubtful
character of his faith completely removed by his marriage. The mother of
Elizabeth was an Episcopalian, as, indeed, was the mother of the Judge himself;
and the good taste of Marmaduke revolted at the familiar colloquies which the
leaders of the conferences held with the Deity, in their nightly meetings. In form,
he was certainly an Episcopalian, though not a sectary of that denomination. On
the other hand, Richard was as rigid in the observance of the canons of his
church, as he was inflexible in his opinions. Indeed, he had once or twice
essayed to introduce the Episcopal form of service, on the Sundays that their
pulpit was vacant; but Richard was a good deal addicted to carrying all things
to an excess, and then there was something so papal in his air, that the
greater part of his hearers deserted him on the second Sabbath--on the third,
his only auditor was Ben Pump!
Before the war of the
revolution, the English church was supported, in their colonies, with much
interest, by some of its adherents in the mother country, and a few of the
congregations were very amply endowed. But, for a season, after the
independence of the states was established, this sect of Christians languished,
for the want of the highest order of its priesthood. Pious and suitable divines
were at length selected, and sent to the mother country, to receive that
authority, which, it is understood, can only be transmitted directly from one
to the other, and thus obtain, in order to preserve, that unity in their
churches, which properly belonged to a people of the same nation. But
unexpected difficulties presented themselves, in the oaths with which the
policy of England had fettered their establishment; and much time was spent,
before a conscientious sense of duty would permit the prelates of Britain to
delegate the authority which was so earnestly sought. Time, patience, and zeal,
however, removed every impediment; and the venerable men, who had been set
apart by the American churches, at length returned to their expecting
diocesses, endowed with the most elevated functions of their earthly church.
Priests and deacons were ordained; and missionaries provided, to keep alive the
expiring flame of devotion in such members as were deprived of the ordinary
ministrations, by dwelling in new and unorganized districts.
Of this number was Mr.
Grant. He had been sen into the county of which Templeton was the capital, and
had been kindly invited by Marmaduke, and officiously pressed by Richard, to
take up his abode in the village itself. A small and humble dwelling was
prepared for his family, and the divine had made his appearance in the place,
but a few days previously to the time of his introduction to the reader. As his
forms were entirely new to most of the inhabitants, and a clergyman of another
denomination had previously occupied the field, by engaging the academy, the
first Sunday after his arrival was suffered to pass in silence; but now that
his rival had passed on, like a meteor, filling the air with the light of his
wisdom, Richard was empowered to give notice, that “Public worship, after the forms
of the Protestant Episcopal Church, would be held, on the night before
Christmas, in the long-room of the academy in Templeton, by the Rev. Mr. Grant.”
This annunciation
excited great commotion among the sectaries to whom it was made. Some wondered
as to the nature of the exhibition; others sneered; but a far greater part,
recollecting the essays of Richard in that way, and mindful of the liberality,
or rather laxity, of Marmaduke’s notions on the subject of sectarianism,
thought it most prudent to be silent.
The expected evening
was, however, the wonder of the hour; nor was the curiosity at all diminished,
when Richard and Benjamin, on the morning of the eventful day, were seen to
issue from the woods in the neighbourhood of the village, each bearing on his
shoulders a large bunch of evergreens. This worthy pair was observed to enter
the academy, and carefully to fasten the door, after which their proceedings
remained a profound secret to the rest of the village; Mr. Jones, before he
commenced this mysterious business, having informed the schoolmaster, to the
great delight of the white-headed flock he governed, that there could be no
school that day. Marmaduke was apprised of all these preparations, by letter,
and it was especially arranged, that he and Elizabeth should arrive in season,
to participate in the solemnities of the evening.
After this digression,
we shall return to our narrative.
Now all admire, in each
high-flavour’d dish.
The capabilities of
flesh--fowl--fish;
In order due each guest
assumes his station.
Throbs high his breast
with fond anticipation,
And prelibates the joys
of mastication.
Heliogabaliad
The apartment to which
Monsieur Le Quoi handed Elizabeth, communicated with the hall, through the door
that led under the urn which was supposed to contain the ashes of Dido. The
room was spacious, and of very just proportions; but in its ornaments and
furniture, the same diversityof taste, and imperfection of execution, were to
be observed, as existed in the hall. Of furniture, there were a dozen green,
wooden arm-chairs, with cushions of moreen, taken from the same piece as the
petticoat of Remarkable. The tables were spread, and their materials and
workmanship could not be seen; but they were heavy, and of great size. There
was an enormous glass, in a gilt frame, hung against the wall, and a cheerful
fire, of the hard or sugar-maple, burning on the hearth. The latter was the
first object that struck the attention of the Judge, who, on beholding it,
exclaimed, rather angrily, to Richard--
“How often have I
forbidden the use of the sugar-maple for fires, in my dwelling. The sight of
that sap, as it exudes with the heat from the ends of those logs, is painful to
me, Richard. Really, it behooves the owner of woods so extensive as mine, to be
cautious what example he sets to his people, who are already felling the
forests, as if no end could be found to their treasures, nor any limits to
their extent. If we go on in this way, twenty years hence we shall want fuel.
“Fuel in these hills,
cousin ’duke!” exclaimed Richard, in derision--“fuel for our fires! why you
might as well predict, that the fish will die, for the want of water in the
lake, because I intend, when the frost gets out of the ground, to lead one or
two of the springs, through logs, into the village. But you are always a little
wild on such subjects, Marmaduke.”
“Is it wildness,”
returned the Judge, earnestly, “to condemn a practice, which devotes these
jewels of the forest, these precious gifts of nature, these mines of comfort
and wealth, to the common uses of a fire-place? But I must, and will, the
instant that the snow is off the earth, send out a party into the mountains, to
explore for coal.”
“Coal!” echoed Richard;
“who the devil do you think will dig for coal, when in hunting for a bushel, he
would have to rip up more roots of trees, than would keep him in fuel for a
twelvemonth? Poh! poh! Marmaduke, you should leave the management of these
things to me, who have a natural turn that way. It was I that ordered this
fire, and a noble one it is, to warm the blood in the veins of my pretty cousin
Bess.”
“The motive, then, must
be your apology, Dickon,” said the Judge.--“But, gentlemen, we are waiting.
Elizabeth, my child, take the head of the table; Richard, I see, means to spare
me the trouble of carving, by sitting opposite to you.”
“To be sure I do,”
cried Richard; “here is a turkey to carve, and I flatter myself that I
understand carving a turkey, or, for that matter, a goose, as well as any man
alive. Mr. Grant! where’s Mr. Grant? will you please to say grace, sir? Every
thing is getting cold. Take a thing from the fire, this cold weather, and it
will freeze in five minutes. Mr. Grant! we want you to say grace. ‘For what we
are about to receive, the Lord make us thankful.’ Come, sit down, sit down. Do
you eat wing or breast, cousin Bess?”
But Elizabeth had not
taken her seat, nor was she in readiness to receive either the wing or breast.
Her laughing, dark eyes, were glancing at the arrangements of the table, and
the quality and selection of the food. The eyes of her father soon met the
wondering looks of his daughter, and he said, with a smile--
“You perceive, my
child, how much we are indebted to Remarkable, for her skill in housewifery;
she has indeed provided a noble repast; such as well might stop the cravings of
hunger.”
“Law!” said Remarkable,
“I’m glad if the Judge is pleased; but I’m notional that you’ll find the sa’ce
overdone. I thought, as Elizabeth was coming home, that a body could do no less
than make things agreeable.”
“My daughter has now
grown to woman’s estate, and is from this moment mistress of my house,” said
the Judge, sternly; “it is proper, that all, who live with me, address her as
Miss Temple.”
“Do tell!” exclaimed
Remarkable, a little aghast; “well, who ever heerd of a young woman’s being
called Miss? If the Judge had a wife now, I shouldn’t think of calling her any
thing but Miss Temple; but--”
“Having nothing but a
daughter, you will observe that style to her, if you please, in future,”
interrupted Marmaduke.
As the Judge look’d
seriously displeased, and, at such moments, carried a particularly commanding
air with him, the wary housekeeper made no reply; and, Mr. Grant entering the
room, the whole party were soon seated at the table. As the arrangements of
this repast were much in the prevailing taste of that period and country, we
shall endeavour to give a short description of the appearance of the banquet.
The table-linen was of
the most beautiful damask, and the plates and dishes of real china, an article
of great luxury at this early period in American commerce. The knives and forks
were of exquisitely polished steel, and were set in unclouded ivory. So much
being furnished by the wealth of Marmaduke, was not only comfortable, but even
elegant. The contents of the several dishes, and their positions, however, were
the result of the sole judgment of Remarkable. Before Elizabeth, was placed an
enormous roasted turkey, and before Richard, one boiled. In the centre of the table,
stood a pair of heavy silver castors, surrounded by four dishes; one a
fricassee, that consisted of gray squirrels; another of fish fried; a third of
fish boiled; the last was a venison steak. Between these dishes and the
turkeys, stood, on the one side, a prodigious chine of roasted bear’s meat, and
on the other a boiled leg of delicious mutton. Interspersed among this load of
meats, was every species of vegetables that the season and country afforded.
The four corners were garnished with plates of cake. On one was piled certain
curiously twisted and complicated figures, called “nut-cakes.” On another were
heaps of a black-looking substance, which, receiving its hue from molasses, was
properly termed “sweet-cake;” a wonderful favourite in the coterie of
Remarkable. A third was filled, to use the language of the housekeeper, with “caards
of gingerbread;” and the last held a “plum-cake,” so called from the number of
large raisins that were showing their black heads, in a substance of a
wonderfully similar colour. At each corner of the table, stood saucers, filled
with a thick fluid, of somewhat equivocal colour and consistence, variegated
with small dark lumps of a substance that resembled nothing but itself, which
Remarkable termed her “sweet-meats.” At the side of each plate, which was
placed bottom upwards, with its knife and fork most accurately crossed above
it, stood another, of smaller size, containing a motley-looking pie, composed
of triangular slices of apple, mince, pumpkin, craneberry, and custard, so
arranged as to form an entire whole. Decanters of brandy, rum, gin, and wine,
with sundry pitchers of cider, beer, and one hissing vessel of “flip,” were put
wherever an opening would admit of their introduction. Notwithstanding the size
of the tables, there was scarcely a spot where the rich damask could be seen,
so crowded were the dishes, and their associated bottles, plates and saucers.
The object seemed to be profusion, and it was obtained entirely at the expense
of order and elegance.
All the guests, as well
as the Judge himself, seemed perfectly familiar with this description of fare,
for each one commenced eating, with an appetite that promised to do great
honour to Remarkable’s taste and skill. What rendered this attention to the
repast a little surprising, was the fact, that both the German and Richard had
been summoned from another table, to meet the Judge; but Major Hartmann both
ate and drank without any rule, when on his excursions; and Mr. Jones
invariably made it a point, to participate in the business in hand, let it be
what it would. The host seemed to think some apology necessary, for the warmth
he had betrayed on the subject of the firewood, and when the party were
comfortably seated, and engaged with their knives and forks, he observed--
“The wastefulness of
the settlers, with the noble trees of this country, is shocking, Monsieur Le
Quoi, as doubtless you have noticed. I have seen a man fell a pine, when he has
been in want of fencing-stuff, and roll its first cuts into the gap, where he
left it to rot, though its top would have made rails enough to answer his
purpose, and its butt would have sold in the Philadelphia market for twenty
dollars.”
“And how the devil--I
beg your pardon, Mr. Grant,” interrupted Richard; “but how is the poor devil to
get his logs to the Philadelphia market, pray? put them in his pocket, ha! as
you would a handful of chesnuts, or a bunch of chicker-berries? I should like
to see you walking up High-street, with a pine log in each pocket!-- Poh! poh!
cousin ’duke, there are trees enough for us all, and some to spare. Why I can
hardly tell which way the wind blows, when I’m out in the clearings, they are
so thick, and so tall;--I couldn’t at all, if it wasn’t for the clouds, and I
happen to know all the points of the compass, as it were, by heart.”
“Ay! ay! Squire,” cried
Benjamin, who had now entered, and taken his place behind the Judge’s chair, a
little aside withal, in order to be ready for any observation like the present;
“look aloft, sir, look aloft. The old seamen say, ‘that the devil wouldn’t make
a sailor, unless he look’d aloft.’ As for the compass, why, there is no such
thing as steering without one. I’m sure I never lose sight of the main-top, as
I call the Squire’s look-out, but I set my compass, d’ye see, and take the
bearings and distance of things, in order to work out my course, if-so-be that
it should cloud up, or the tops of the trees should shut out the light of
heaven. The steeple of St. Paul’s, now that we have got it on end, is a great help
to the navigation of the woods, for, by the lord Harry, as I was”--
“It is well, Benjamin,
interrupted Marmaduke, observing his daughter, who manifested evident
displeasure at the major-domo’s familiarity; “but you forget there is a lady in
company, and the women love to do most of the talking themselves.”
“The Judge says the
true word,” cried Benjamin, with one of his discordant laughs: “now here is
Mistress Remarkable Prettybones; just take the stopper off her tongue, and you’ll
hear a gabbling, worse like than if you should happen to fall to leeward, in
crossing a French privateer, or some such thing, mayhap, as a dozen monkeys
stowed in one bag.”
It were impossible to
say, how perfect an illustration of the truth of Benjamin’s assertion the
housekeeper would have furnished, if she dare; but the Judge looked sternly at
her, and, unwilling to incur his resentment, yet unable to contain her anger,
she threw herself out of the room, with a toss of her body, that nearly
separated her frail form in the centre.
“Richard” said
Marmaduke, observing that his displeasure had produced the desired effect, “can
you inform me of any thing concerning the youth, whom I so unfortunately
wounded? I found him on the mountain hunting in company with the
Leather-stocking, as if they were of the same family; but there is a manifest
difference in their manners. The youth delivers himself in chosen language;
such as is seldom heard in these hills, and such as occasions great surprise to
me, how one so meanly clad, and following so lowly a pursuit, could attain.
Mohegan also knew him. Doubtless he is a tenant of Natty’s hut. Did you notice
the language of the lad, Monsieur Le Quoi?”
“Certainement, Monsieur
Templ’,” returned the Frenchman, “he deed conevairse in de most excellent
Anglaise.”
“The boy is not a
miracle,” exclaimed Richard; “I’ve known children that were sent to school
early, talk much better, before they were twelve years old. There was Zareed
Coe, old Nehemiah’s son, who first settled on the beaverdam meadow, he could
write almost as good a hand as myself, when he was fourteen; though it’s true,
I helped to teach him a little, in the long evenings. But this shooting
gentleman ought to be put in the stocks, if he ever takes a rein in his hand
again. He is the most awkward fellow about a horse I ever met with. I dare say,
he never drove any thing but oxen in his life.”
“There I think, Dickon,
you do the lad injustice,” said the Judge; “he uses much discretion in critical
moments.--Dost thou not think so, Bess?”
There was nothing in
this question particularly to excite the blushes of a maiden, but Elizabeth
started from the reverie into which she had fallen, and coloured to her
forehead, as she answered--
“To me, my dear sir, he
appeared extremely skilful, and prompt, and courageous; but perhaps cousin
Richard will say, I am as ignorant as the gentleman himself.”
“Gentleman!” echoed
Richard; “do you call such chaps gentlemen, at school, Elizabeth?”
“Every man is a
gentleman, who knows how to treat a woman with respect and consideration,”
returned the young lady, promptly, and with an air of a little dignity.
“So much for hesitating
to appear before the heiress in his shirt sleeves,” cried Richard, winking at
Monsieur Le Quoi, who returned the hint with one eye, while he rolled the
other, with an expression of great sympathy, towards the young lady.--“Well,
well, to me he seemed any thing but a gentleman. I must say, however, for the
lad, that he draws a good trigger, and has a true aim. He’s good at shooting a
buck, ha! Marmaduke?”
“Richart,” said Major
Hartmann, turning his grave countenance towards the gentleman he addressed,
with much earnestness, “ter poy is goot. He savet your life, and my life, and
ter life of Tominie Grant, and ter life of ter Frenchman; and, Richart, he
shall never vant a pet to sleep in, vile olt Fritz Hartmann hast a shingle to
cover his bet mit.”
“Well, well, as you
please, old gentleman,” returned Mr. Jones, endeavouring to look excessively
indifferent; “put him into your own stone house, if you will, Major. I dare say
the lad never slept in any thing better than a bark shanty in his life, unless
it was some such hut as the cabin of Leather-stocking. I prophesy you will soon
spoil him; any one can see how proud he grew, in a short time, just because he
stood by my horses’ heads, while I turned them into the highway.”
“No, no, my old friend,”
cried Marmaduke, “it shall be my task, to provide in some manner for the youth:
I owe him a debt of my own, besides the service he has done me, through my
friends. And yet I anticipate some little trouble, in inducing him to accept of
my services. He showed a marked dislike, I thought, Bess, to my offer of a
residence within these walls for life.”
“Really, dear sir,”
said Elizabeth, projecting her beautiful under-lip, “I have not studied the
gentleman so closely, as to read his feelings in his countenance. I thought he
might very naturally feel pain from his wound, and therefore pitied him; but”--and
as she spoke, she glanced her eye, with a conscious timidity, towards the
major-domo--“I dare say, sir, that Benjamin can tell you something about him.
He cannot have been in the village, and Benjamin not have seen him often.”
“Ay! I have seen the
boy before,” said Benjamin, who wanted no other encouragement to speak: “he has
been backing and filling in the wake of Natty Bumppo, through the mountains,
after deer, like a Dutch long-boat in tow of an Albany sloop. He carries a good
rifle too. The Leather-stocking said, in my hearing, before Betty Hollister’s
bar-room fire, no later than the Tuesday night, that the younker was certain
death to the wild beasts. If-so-be he can kill the wild cat, that has been
heard moaning on the lake-side, since the hard frosts and deep snows have
driven the deer to herd, he will be doing the thing that is good. Your wild cat
is a bad shipmate, and should be made to cruise out of the track of all
christian-men.”
“Lives he in the hut of
Bumppo?” asked Marmaduke, with some interest; and the full black eyes of
Elizabeth resting intently on the scorched visage of the steward, while she
waited his reply.
“Cheek by jowl,” said
Benjamin; “the Wednesday will be three weeks since he first hove in sight, in
company with Leather-stocking. They had captured a wolf between them, and had
brought in his scalp for the bounty. That Mister Bump-ho has a handy turn with
him, in taking off a scalp; and there’s them, in this here village, who say he
larnt the trade by working on christian-men. If-so-be that there is truth in
the saying, and I commanded along shore here, as your honour does, why, d’ye
see, I’d bring him to the gangway for it, yet. There’s a very pretty post
riggid alongside of the stocks, and for the matter of a cat, I can fit one with
my own hands; ay! and use it too, for the want of a better.”
“You are not to credit
all the idle tales, sir, that you hear of Natty,” said the Judge: “he has a
kind of natural right to gain a livelihood in these mountains; and if the
idlers in the village take it into their heads to annoy him, as they sometimes
do reputed rogues, they shall find him protected by the strong arm of the law.”
“Ter rifle is petter as
ter law,” said the Major, sententiously.
“That for his rifle!”
exclaimed Richard, snapping his fingers; “Ben is right, and I”--He was stopped
by the sounds of a common ship-bell, that had been elevated to the belfry of
the academy, which now announced, by its incessant ringing, that the hour for
the appointed service had arrived. “ ‘For this, and every other instance of his
goodness’--I beg pardon. Mr. Grant; will you please to return thanks, sir? it
is time we should be moving, as we are the only Episcopalians in the
neighbourhood; that is, I, and Benjamin, and Elizabeth.”
The divine arose, and
performed the office, meekly and fervently, and the whole party instantly
prepared themselves for the church--or rather academy.
And calling sinful man
to pray,
Loud, long, and deep
the bell had toll’d.
Scott’s Burgher
While Richard and
Monsieur Le Quoi, attended by Benjamin, proceeded to the academy, by a
foot-path that was trodden in the snow, across the grounds of the
Mansion-House, the Judge, his daughter, the Divine, and the Major, took a more
circuitous route to the same place, through the streets of the village.
The moon had risen,
during the time that our travellers were housed, and its orb was shedding a
flood of light over the dark outline of pines, which crowned the eastern
mountain. In other climates, the sky would have been thought clear and lucid
for a noontide. The stars twinkled in the heavens, like the last faint
glimmerings of distant fire, so much were they obscured by the overwhelming
radiance of the atmosphere; the rays from the moon striking upon the smooth
white surfaces of the lake and fields, reflecting upwards a light that was
brightened by the spotless colour of the immense bodies of snow, which covered
the earth.
Elizabeth employed
herself with reading the signs, one of which appeared over almost every door,
while the sleigh moved, steadily and at an easy gait, along the principal
street. Not only new occupations, but names that were strangers to her ears,
met her bewildered gaze, at every step they proceeded. The very houses seemed
changed. This had been altered by an addition; that had been painted; another
had been erected on the site of an old acquaintance, which had been banished
from the earth almost as soon as it made its appearance on it. All were,
however, pouring forth their inmates, who uniformly held their way towards the
point where the expected exhibition, of the taste of Richard and Benjamin, was
to be made.
After viewing the
buildings, which really appeared to some advantage, under the bright but mellow
light of the moon, our heroine turned her eyes to a scrutiny of the different
figures that they passed, in search of any form that she knew. But all seemed
alike, as, muffled in cloaks, hoods, coats, or tippets, they glided along the
narrow passages in the snow, which led under the houses, half hid by the bank
that had been thrown up in excavating the deep path in which they trod. Once or
twice she thought there was a stature, or a gait, that she recollected, but the
person who owned it instantly disappeared behind one of those enormous piles of
wood, that lay before most of the doors. It was only as they turned from the
main street into another that intersected it at right angles, and which led
directly to the place of meeting, that she recognised a face and building that
she knew.
The house stood at one
of the principal corners in the village, and, by its well-trodden doorway, as
well as the sign, that was swinging, with a kind of doleful sound, in the
blasts that occasionally swept down the lake, was clearly one of the most
frequented inns in the place. The building was only of one story, but the
dormant windows in the roof, the paint, the window-shutters, and cheerful fire
that shone through the open door, gave it an air of comfort, that was not
possessed by many of its neighbours. The sign was suspended from a common
ale-house post, and represented the figure of a horseman, armed with sabre and
pistols, and surmounted by a bear-skin cap, with the fiery animal that he
bestrode “rampant.” All these particulars were easily to be seen, by the aid of
the moon, together with a row of somewhat illegible writing, in black paint,
but in which Elizabeth, to whom the whole was familiar, read with facility, “The
Bold Dragoon.”
A man and a woman were
issuing from the door of this habitation, as the sleigh was passing. The former
moved with a stiff, military step, that was a good deal heightened by a limp
that he had in one leg; but the woman advanced with a measure and an air, that
seemed not particularly regardful of what she might encounter. The light of the
moon fell directly upon her full, broad, and red visage; exhibiting her
masculine countenance, under the mockery of a ruffled cap, that was intended,
evidently, to soften the lineaments of her features. A small bonnet, of black
silk, and of a slightly formal cut, was placed on the back of her head, but so
as not to shade her visage in the least. Her face, as it encountered the rays
of the moon from the east, seemed not unlike a sun rising in the west. She
advanced, with masculine strides, to intercept the sleigh, and the Judge,
directing the namesake of the Grecian king, who held the lines, to check his
horses, the parties were soon near to each other.
“Good luck to ye, and a
wilcome home, Jooge!” cried the female, with a strong Irish accent; “and I’m
sure it’s to me that ye’re always wilcome. Sure! and there’s Miss ’Lizzy, and a
fine young woman is she grown. What a heartache would she be giving the young
men now, if there was sich a thing as a rigiment in the town. Och! but it’s
idle to talk of sich vanities, while the bell is calling us to mateing, jist as
we shall be call’d away unexpictedly, some day, when we are the laist
calkilating on it. Good even, Major; will I make the bowl of gin-toddy the
night?--or it’s likely ye’ll stay at the big house, the Christmas eve, and the
very night of ye’r getting there?”
“I am glad to see you,
Mrs. Hollister,” returned the voice of Elizabeth. “I have been trying to find a
face that I knew, since we left the door of the mansion-house, but none have I
seen except your own. Your house, too, is unaltered, while all the others are
so changed, that, but for the places where they stand, they would be utter
strangers. I observe you keep also the dear sign, that I saw cousin Richard
paint, and even the name at the bottom, about which, you may remember, you had
the disagreement.”
“Is it the bould
dragoon ye mane? and what name would ye have, who niver was known by any other,
as my husband here, the Captain, can tistify to. He was a pleasure to wait
upon, and was iver the foremost in the hour of need. Och! but he had a sudden
ind! But it’s to be hoped, that he was justified by the cause. And it’s not
Parson Grant there, who’ll gainsay that same.-- Yes, yes--the Squire would
paint, and so I thought that we might have his face up there, who had so often
shared good and evil wid us. The eyes is no so large nor so fiery as the
Captain’s own, but the whiskers and the cap is as like as two paas.-- Well,
well--I’ll not keep ye in the cowld, talking, but will drop in, the morrow,
after sarvice, and jist ask ye how ye do. It’s our bounden duty to make the
most of this present, and to go to the house which is open to all: so God bless
ye, and keep ye from evil.--Will I make the gin-twist the night, or no, Major?”
To this question the
German replied, very sententiously, in the affirmative; and, after a few words
had passed between the husband of this fiery-faced hostess and the Judge, the
sleigh moved on. It soon reached the door of the academy, where the party
alighted and entered the building.
In the mean time, Mr.
Jones and his two companions, having a much shorter distance to journey, had
arrived before the appointed place several minutes sooner than the party in the
sleigh. Instead of hastening into the room, in order to enjoy the astonishment
of the settlers, Richard placed a hand in either pocket of his surtout, and
affected to walk about, in front of the academy, with great indifference.
The villagers proceeded
uniformly into the building, with a decorum and gravity that nothing could
move, on such occasions; but with a haste, that was probably a little
heightened by curiosity. Those who came in from the adjacent country, spent
some little time in placing certain blue and white blankets over their horses,
before they proceeded to indulge their desire to view the interior of the house.
Most of these men Richard approached, and inquired after the health and
condition of their families. The readiness with which he mentioned the names of
even the children, showed how very familiarly acquainted he was with their
circumstances; and the nature of the answers he received, proved that he was a
general favourite.
At length one of the
pedestrians from the village stopped also, and fixed an earnest gaze at a new
brick edifice, that was throwing a long shadow across the fields of snow, as it
rose, with a beautiful gradation of light and shade, under the rays of a full
moon. In front of the academy was a vacant piece of ground, that was intended
for a public square. On the side opposite to where stood Mr. Jones, the new,
and as yet unfinished, church of St. Paul’s was erected. This edifice had been
reared, during the preceding summer, by the aid of what was called a
subscription; though all, or nearly all, of the money it had cost, came from
the pocket of the landlord. It had been built under the strong conviction of
the necessity of a more seemly place of worship than “the long-room of the
academy,” and under an implied agreement, that, after its completion, the
question should be fairly put to the people, that they might decide to what
denomination it should belong. Of course, this expectation kept alive a strong
excitement, in some few of the sectaries who were interested in its decision;
though but little was said openly on the subject. Had Judge Temple espoused the
cause of any particular sect, the question would have been immediately put at
rest, for his influence was too powerful to be opposed; but he declined all
interference in the matter, positively refusing to lend even the weight of his
name on the side of Richard, who had secretly given an assurance to his
Diocesan, that both the building and the congregation would cheerfully come
within the pale of the Protestant Episcopal Church. But when the neutrality of
the Judge was clearly ascertained, Mr. Jones discovered that he had to contend with
a stiff-necked people. His first measure was to go among them, and commence a
course of reasoning, in order to bring them round to his own way of thinking.
They all heard him patiently, and not a man uttered a word in reply, in the way
of argument: and Richard thought, by the time that he had gone through the
settlement, the thing was to be conclusively decided in his favour. Willing to
strike while the iron was hot, he called a meeting, through the newspaper, with
a view to decide the question, by a vote, at once, Not a soul attended; and one
of the most anxious afternoons that he had ever known, was spent by Richard in
a vain discussion with Mrs. Hollister, who strongly contended that the
Methodist (her own) church was the best entitled to, and most deserving of, the
possession of the new tabernacle. Richard now perceived that he had been too
sanguine, and had fallen into the error of all those who, ignorantly, deal with
that wary and sagacious people. He assumed a disguise himself, that is, as well
as he knew how, and proceeded step by step to advance his purpose.
The task of erecting
the building had been unanimously transferred to Mr. Jones and Hiram Doolittle.
Together they had built the mansion-house, the academy, and the jail; and they
alone knew how to plan and rear such a structure as was now required. Early in
the day, these architects had made an equitable division of their duties. To
the former was assigned the duty of making all the plans, and to the latter,
the labour of superintending the execution.
Availing himself of
this advantage, Richard silently determined that the windows should have the
Roman arch, as the first positive step he would take in effecting his wishes.
As the building was made of bricks, he was enabled to conceal his design, until
the moment arrived for placing the frames: then, indeed, it became necessary to
act. He communicated his wishes to Hiram with great caution; and without in the
least adverting to the spiritual part of his project, he pressed the point a
little warmly, on the score of architectural beauty. Hiram heard him patiently,
and without contradiction; but still Richard was unable to discover the views
of his coadjutor, on this interesting subject. As the right to plan was duly
delegated to Mr. Jones, no direct objection was made in words, but numberless
unexpected difficulties arose in the execution. At first, there was a scarcity
in the right kind of material necessary to form the frames; but this objection
was instantly silenced, by Richard running his pencil through two feet of their
length at one stroke. Then the expense was mentioned; but Richard reminded
Hiram that his cousin paid, and that he was his treasurer. This last intimation
had great weight, and after a silent and protracted, but fruitless opposition,
the work was suffered to proceed on the original plan.
The next difficulty
occurred in the steeple, which Richard had modelled after one of the smaller of
those spires that adorn the great London Cathedral. The imitation was somewhat
lame, it is true, the proportions being but indifferently observed; but, after
much difficulty, Mr. Jones had the satisfaction of seeing an object reared,
that bore, in its outlines, a prodigious resemblance to an old-fashioned
vinegar-cruet. There was less opposition to this model than to the windows, for
the settlers were fond of novelty, and their steeple was without a precedent.
Here the labour had
ceased for the season, and the difficult question of the interior remained for
further deliberation. Richard well knew, that when he came to propose a
reading-desk and a chancel, he must unmask; for these were arrangements, known
to no church in the country, but his own. Presuming, however, on the advantages
he had already obtained, he boldly styled the building St. Paul’s, and Hiram
prudently acquiesced in this appellation, making, however, the slight addition
of calling it “New St. Paul’s,” feeling less aversion to a name taken from the
English Cathedral, than from the saint.
The pedestrian, whom we
have already mentioned, as pausing to contemplate this edifice, was no other
than the gentlemen so frequently named as Mr., or Squire Doolittle. He was of a
tall, gaunt formation, with sharp features, and a face that expressed formal
propriety, mingled with low cunning. Richard approached him, followed by
Monsieur Le Quoi and the Major-Domo.
“Good evening, Squire,”
said Richard, bobbing his head, but without moving his hands from his pockets.
“Good evening, Squire,”
echoed Hiram, turning his body, in order to turn his head also.
“A cold night, Mr.
Doolittle, a cold night, sir.”
“Coolish,” said Hiram: “a
tedious spell on’t.”
“What, looking at our
church, ha! it looks well by moonlight; how the tin of the cupola glistens. I
warrant you, the dome of the other St. Paul’s never shines so in the smoke of
London.”
“It is a pretty
meeting-house to look on,” returned Hiram, “and I believe that Monshure Ler
Quow and Mr. Penguilliam will allow it.”
“Sairtainlee!”
exclaimed the complaisant Frenchman, “it ees ver fine.”
“I thought the Monshure
would say so,” observed Hiram. “Them last molasses that we had was excellent
good. It isn’t likely that you have any more of it on hand?”
“Ah! oui; ees, sair,”
returned Monsieur Le Quoi, with a slight shrug of his shoulder, and a trifling
grimace, “dere is more. I feel ver happi dat you love eet. I hope dat Madame
Dooleet’ is in good ’ealth.”
“Why, so as to be
stirring,” said Hiram.-- “The Squire hasn’t finished the plans for the inside
of the meeting-house yet?”
“No--no--no,” returned
Richard, speaking quickly, but making a significant pause between each
negative--“it requires reflection. There is a great deal of room to fill up,
and I am afraid we shall not know how to dispose of it to advantage. There will
be a large vacant spot around the pulpit, which I do not mean to place against
the wall, like a sentry-box stuck up on the side of a fort.”
“It is ruleable to put
the deacons’ box under the pulpit,” said Hiram; and then, as if he had ventured
too much, he added, “but there’s different fashions in different countries.”
“That there is,” cried
Benjamin; “now, in running down the coast of Spain and Portingall, you may see
a nunnery stuck out on every headland, with more steeples and outriggers, such
as dog-vanes and weather-cocks, than you’ll find aboard of a three-masted
schooner. If-so-be that a well-built church is wanting, Old England, after all,
is the country to go to, after your models and fashion-pieces. As to Paul’s,
thof I’ve never seen it, being that it’s a long way up town from Radcliffe-highway
and the docks, yet every body knows that it’s the grandest place in the world.
Now, I’ve no opinion but this here church over there, is as like one end of it,
as a grampus is to a whale; and that’s only a small difference in bulk.
Mounsheer Ler Quaw here, has been in foreign parts, and thof that is not the
same as having been at home, yet he must have seen churches in France too, and
can form a small idee of what a church should be: now, I ask the Mounsheer to
his face, if it is not a clever little thing, taking it by and large?”
“It ees ver apropos to
saircumstonce,” said the Frenchman--“ver judgement--but it is in de Catholique
country dat dey build de--vat you call--ah-a-ah-ha--la grande cathedrale--de
big church. St. Paul Londre, is ver fine; ver bootiful; ver grand--vat you call
beeg; but, Monsieur Ben, pardonnez moi, it is no vort so much as Notre Dame”--
“Ha! Mounsheer, what is
that you say?” cried Benjamin--“St. Paul’s Church not worth so much as a damn!
Mayhap you may be thinking, too that the Royal Billy isn’t as good a ship as
the Billy de Paris; but she would have lick’d two of her, any day, and in all
weathers.”
As Benjamin had assumed
a very threatening kind of attitude, flourishing an arm, with a bunch at the
end of it, that was half as big as Monsieur Le Quoi’s head, Richard thought it
time to interpose his authority.
“Hush, Benjamin, hush,”
he said; “you both misunderstand Monsieur Le Quoi, and forget yourself.--But
here comes Mr. Grant, and the service will commence. Let us go in.”
The Frenchman, who
received Benjamin’s reply with a well-bred good humour, that would not admit of
any feeling but pity for the other’s ignorance, bowed in acquiescence, and
followed his companion.
Hiram and the
Major-Domo brought up the rear, the latter grumbling as he entered the
building--
“If-so-be that the King
of France had so much as a house to live in, that would lay alongside of Paul’s,
one might put up with their jaw. It’s more than flesh and blood can bear, to
hear a Frenchman run down an English church in this manner. Why, Squire
Doolittle, I’ve been at the whipping of two of them in one day--clean built,
snug frigates, with standing-royals, and them new-fashioned cannonades on their
quarters--such as, if they had only Englishmen aboard of them, would have fout
the devil.”
With this ominous word
in his mouth, Benjamin entered the church!
And fools, who came to
scoff, remain’d to pray.
Goldsmith
Notwithstanding the
united labours of Richard and Benjamin, the “long-room” was but an extremely
plain and inartificial temple. Benches, made in the coarsest manner, and
entirely with a view to usefulness, were arranged in rows, for the reception of
the congregation; while a rough, unpainted box, was placed against the wall, in
the centre of the length of the apartment, as an apology for a pulpit.
Something like a reading desk was in front of this rostrum, and a small
mahogany table, from the mansion-house, covered with a spotless damask cloth,
stood a little on one side, by the way of an altar. Branches of pines and
hemlocks were stuck in each of the fissures that offered, in the unseasoned,
and hastily completed wood-work, of both the building and its furniture; while
festoons and hieroglyphics met the eye, in vast profusion, along the brown
sides of the scratch-coated walls. As the room was only lighted by some ten or
fifteen miserable candles, and the windows were without shutters, it would have
been but a dreary, cheerless place for the solemnities of a Christmas-eve, had
not the large fire, that was crackling at each end of the apartment, given an
air of cheerfulness to the scene, by throwing an occasional glare of light
through the vistas of bushes and faces.
The two sexes were
separated by an area in the centre of the room, immediately before the pulpit,
and a few benches lined this space, that were occupied by the principal
personages of the village and its vicinity. This distinction was rather a
gratuitous concession, made by the poorer and less polished part of the population,
than a right claimed by the favoured few. One bench was occupied by the party
of Judge Temple, including his daughter; and, with the exception of Dr. Todd,
no one else appeared willing to incur the imputation of pride, by taking a seat
in what was, literally, the high place of the tabernacle.
Richard filled a chair,
that was placed behind another table, in the capacity of clerk; while Benjamin,
after heaping sundry logs on the fires. posted himself nigh by. in reserve for
any movement that might require his co operation.
It would be greatly
exceeding our limits, to attempt a description of the congregation, for their
dresses were as various as there were individuals. Some one article, of more
than usual finery, and perhaps the relic of other days, was to be seen about
most of the females, in connexion with the coarse attire of the woods. This,
wore a faded silk, that had gone through at least three generations, over
coarse, woollen, black stockings; that, a shawl, whose dies were as numerous as
those of the rainbow, over an awkwardly fitting gown, of rough, brown “woman’s-wear.”
In short, each one exhibited some favourite article, and all appeared in their
best, both men and women; while the ground-works in dress, in either sex, were
the coarse fabrics manufactured within their own dwellings. One man appeared in
the dress of a volunteer company of artillery, of which he had been a member,
in the “down-countries,” precisely for no other reason, than because it was the
best suit he had. Several, particularly of the younger men, displayed
pantaloons of blue, edged with red cloth down the seams, part of the equipments
of the “Templeton Light Infantry,” from a little vanity to be seen in “boughten
clothes.” There was also one man in a “rifle frock,” with its fringes and folds
of spotless white, striking a chill to the heart with the idea of its coolness;
although the thick coat of brown “home-made,” that was concealed beneath,
preserved to the wearer a proper degree of warmth.
There was a marked
uniformity of expression in countenance, especially in that half of the
congregation, who did not enjoy the advantages of the polish of the village. A
sallow skin, that indicated nothing but exposure, was common to all, as was an
air of great decency and attention, mingled, generally, with an expression of
shrewdness, and in the present instance, of active curiosity. Now and then a
face and dress were to be seen, among the congregation, that differed entirely
from this description. If pock-marked, and florid, with gaitered legs, and a
coat that snugly fitted the person of the wearer, it was surely an English
emigrant, who had bent his steps to this retired quarter of the globe. If
hard-featured, and without colour, with high cheek-bones, it was a native of
Scotland, in similar circumstances. The short, black-eyed man, with a cast of
the swarthy Spaniard in his face, who rose repeatedly, to make room for the
belles of the village, as they entered, was a son of Erin, who had lately left
off his pack, and become a stationary trader in Templeton. In short, half the
nations in the north of Europe had their representatives in this assembly,
though all had closely assimilated themselves to the Americans, in dress and
appearance, except the Englishman. He, indeed, not only adhered to his native
customs, in attire and living, but usually drove his plough, among the stumps,
in the same manner as he had before done, on the plains of Norfolk, until
dear-bought experience taught him the useful lesson, that a sagacious people
knew what was suited to their circumstances, better than a casual observer; or
a sojourner, who was, perhaps, too much prejudiced to compare, and,
peradventure, too conceited to learn.
Elizabeth soon
discovered that she divided the attention of the congregation, equally with Mr.
Grant. Timidity, therefore, confined her observation of the appearances which
we have described, to stolen glances; but, as the stamping of feet was now
becoming less frequent, and even the coughing, and other little preliminaries
of a congregation settling themselves down into reverential attention, were
ceasing, she felt emboldened to look around her. Gradually all noises
diminished, until the suppressed cough denoted, that it was necessary to avoid
singularity, and the most profound stillness pervaded the apartment. The
snapping of the fires, as they threw a powerful heat into the room, was alone
heard, and each face, and every eye, were turned in expectation on the divine.
At this moment, a heavy
stamping of feet was heard in the passage below, as if a new comer was
releasing his limbs from the snow, that was necessarily clinging to the legs of
a pedestrian. It was succeeded by no audible tread; but directly Mohegan,
followed by the Leather-stocking and the young hunter, made his appearance. Their
footsteps would not have been heard, as they trod the apartment in their
moccasins, but for the silence which prevailed.
The Indian moved with
great gravity across the floor, and, observing a vacant seat next to the Judge,
he took it, in a manner that manifested his sense of his own dignity. Here,
drawing his blanket closely around him, so as partly to conceal his
countenance, he remained during the service immoveable, but deeply attentive.
Natty passed the place, that was so freely taken by his red companion, and
seated himself on one end of a log, that was lying near the fire, where he
continued, with his rifle standing between his legs, absorbed in reflections,
seemingly, of no very pleasing nature. The youth found a seat, among the
congregation, and another dead silence prevailed.
Mr. Grant now arose,
and commenced his service, with the sublime declaration of the Hebrew prophet--“The
Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him.” The
example of Mr. Jones was unnecessary, to teach the congregation to rise: the
solemnity of the manner of the divine, effected this as by magic. After a short
pause, Mr. Grant proceeded with the solemn and winning exhortation of his
service. Nothing was heard but the deep, though affectionate, tones of the
reader, as he slowly went through this exordium; until, something unfortunately
striking the mind of Richard as incomplete, he left his place, and walked on
tip-toe from the room.
When the clergyman bent
his knees in prayer and confession, the congregation so far imitated his
example, as to resume their seats; whence no succeeding effort of the divine,
during the evening, was able to remove them in a body. Some rose, at times, but
by far the larger part continued unbending; observant, it is true, but it was
the kind of observation that regarded the ceremony as a spectacle, rather than
a worship in which all were to participate. Thus deserted by his clerk, Mr.
Grant continued to read; but no response was audible. The short and solemn
pause, that succeeded each petition, was made; still no voice repeated the
eloquent language of the prayer.
The lips of Elizabeth
moved, but they moved in vain; and, accustomed, as she was, to the service in
the churches of the metropolis, she was beginning to feel the awkwardness of
the circumstance most painfully, when a soft, low, female voice repeated after
the priest, “We have left undone those things which we ought to have done.”
Startled, at finding one of her own sex in that place, who could rise superior
to their natural timidity, Miss Temple turned her eyes in the direction of the
humble penitent. She observed a young female, on her knees, but a short
distance from her, with her meek face humbly bent over her book. The appearance
of this stranger, for such she was, entirely, to Elizabeth, was light and
fragile. Her dress, without being either rich or fashionable, was neat and
becoming; and her countenance, though pale, and slightly agitated, excited deep
interest, by its sweet, and perhaps melancholy expression. A second and third
response were made by this juvenile assistant, when the rich, manly sounds of a
youthful, male voice, proceeded from the opposite part of the room. Miss Temple
knew the tones of the young hunter instantly, and, struggling to overcome her
own diffidence, she added her low voice to the number.
All this time, Benjamin
stood thumbing the leaves of a prayer-book with great industry, but some
unexpected difficulties prevented his finding the place. Before the divine
reached the close of the confession, however, Richard re-appeared at the door,
and, as he moved lightly across the room he took up the response, in a voice
that betrayed no other concern than that of not being heard. In his hand he
carried a small open box, with the figures of “8 by 10” written, in black
paint, on one of its sides; which having placed in the pulpit, apparently as a
footstool for the divine he returned to his station, in time to say, most
sonorously, “amen.” The eyes of the congregation, very naturally, were turned to
the windows, as Mr. Jones entered with this singular load, and then, as if
accustomed to his “general agency,” were again bent on the priest, in close and
curious attention.
The long experience of
Mr. Grant had admirably qualified him to perform with success his present duty.
He well understood the character of his listeners, who were mostly a primitive
people in their habits; and who, being a good deal addicted to subtleties and
nice distinctions in their religious opinions, viewed the introduction into
their spiritual worship of any such temporal assistance as form, not only with
jealousy, but frequently with disgust. He had acquired much of his knowledge,
from studying the great book of human nature, as it lay open in the world; and,
knowing how dangerous it was to contend with ignorance, uniformly endeavoured
to avoid dictating, where his better reason taught him it was the most prudent
to attempt to lead. His orthodoxy had no dependence on his cassock; he could
pray, with fervour and with faith, if circumstances required it, without the
assistance of his clerk; and he had even been known to preach a most
evangelical sermon, in the winning manner of native eloquence, without the aid
of a cambric handkerchief!
In the present instance
he yielded, in many places, to the prejudices of his congregation; and when he
had ended, there was not one of his new hearers, who did not think the
ceremonies less papal and offensive, and more conformant to his or her own
notions of devout worship, than they had been led to expect from a service of
forms. Truly, Richard found in the divine, during the evening, a most powerful
co-operator in his religious schemes. In preaching, Mr. Grant endeavoured to
steer a middle course, between the mystical doctrines of those sublimated
creeds, which daily involve their professors in the most absurd contradictions,
and those fluent rules for moral government, which would reduce the Saviour to
a level with the teacher of a school of ethics. Doctrine it was necessary for
him to preach, for nothing less would have satisfied the disputatious people
who were his listeners, and who would have interpreted silence on his part,
into a tacit acknowledgment of either the superficial nature of his creed, or
his own inability to defend it. We have already said that, amongst the endless
variety of their religious instructors, the settlers were accustomed to hear
every denomination urge its own distinctive precepts; and to have found one
indifferent to this interesting subject, would have been destructive to his
influence. But Mr. Grant so happily blended the universally received opinions
of the Christian faith, with the dogmas of his own church, that, although none
were entirely exempt from the influence of his reasons, very few took any alarm
at the innovation.
“When we consider the
great diversity of the human character, influenced as it is by education, by
opportunity, and by the physical and moral conditions of the creature, my dear
hearers,” he earnestly concluded, “it can excite no surprise, that creeds, so
very different in their tendencies, should grow out of a religion, revealed, it
is true, but whose revelations are obscured by the lapse of ages and whose
doctrines were, after the fashion of the countries in which they were first
promulgated, frequently delivered in parables, and in a language abounding in
metaphors, and loaded with figures. On points where the learned have, in purity
of heart, been compelled to differ, the unlettered will necessarily be at
variance. But, happily for us, my brethren, the fountain of divine love flows
from a source too pure to admit of pollution in its course; it extends, to
those who drink of its vivifying waters, the peace of the righteous and life
everlasting; it endures through all time, and it pervades creation. If there be
mystery in its workings, it is the mystery of a Divinity. With a clear
knowledge of the nature, the might, and majesty of God, there might be
conviction, but there could be no faith. If we are required to believe in
doctrines, that seem not in conformity with the deductions of human wisdom, let
us never forget, that such is the mandate of a wisdom that is infinite. It is
sufficient for us, that enough is developed to point our path aright, and to
direct our wandering steps to that portal. which shall open on the light of an
eternal day. Then, indeed, it may be humbly hoped, that the film, which has
been spread by the subtleties of earthly arguments, will be dissipated by the
spiritual light of heaven; and that our hour of probation, by the aid of divine
grace, being once passed in triumph, will be followed by an eternity of
intelligence, and endless ages of fruition. All that is now obscure, shall
become plain to our expanded faculties; and what, to our present senses, may
seem irreconcileable to our limited notions of mercy, of justice, and of love
shall stand, irradiated by the light of truth, confessedly the suggestions of
Omniscience, and the acts of an All-powerful Benevolence.
“What a lesson of
humility, my brethren, might not each of us obtain, from a review of his infant
hours, and the recollection of his juvenile passions! How differently do the
same acts of parental rigour appear, in the eyes of the suffering child, and of
the chastened man! When the sophist would supplant, with the wild theories of
his worldly wisdom, the positive mandates of inspiration, let him remember the
expansion of his own feeble intellects, and pause--let him feel the wisdom of
God, in what is partially concealed, as well as in that which is revealed;--in
short, let him substitute humility for pride of reason--let him have faith, and
live!
“The consideration of
this subject is full of consolation, my hearers, and does not fail to bring
with it lessons of humility and of profit, that, duly improved, would both
chasten the heart, and strengthen the feeble-minded man in his course. It is a
blessed consolation, to be able to lay the misdoubtings of our arrogant nature
at the threshold of the dwelling place of the Deity, from whence they shall be
swept away, at the great opening of the portal, like the mists of the morning
before the rising sun. It teaches us a lesson of humility, by impressing us
with the imperfection of human powers, and by warning us of the many weak
points, where we are open to the attacks of the great enemy of our race; it
proves to us, that we are in danger of being weak, when our vanity would fain
soothe us into the belief that we are most strong; it forcibly points out to us
the vain-glory of intellect, and shows us the vast difference between a saving
faith, and the corollaries of a philosophical theology; and it teaches us to
reduce our self-examination to the test of good works. By good works, must be
understood the fruits of repentance, the chiefest of which is charity. Not that
charity only, which causes us to help the needy and comfort the suffering, but
that feeling of universal philanthropy, which, by teaching us to love, causes
us to judge with lenity, all men; striking at the root of self-righteousness,
and warning us to be sparing of our condemnation of others, while our own
salvation is not yet secure.
“The lesson of
expediency, my brethren, which I would gather from the consideration of this
subject, is most strongly inculcated by our humility. On the leading and
essential points of our faith, there is but little difference, amongst those
classes of Christians who acknowledge the attributes of the Saviour, and depend
on his mediation. But heresies have polluted every church, and schisms are the
fruits of disputation. In order to arrest these dangers, and to ensure the
union of his followers, it would seem that Christ had established his visible
church, and delegated the ministry. Wise and holy men, the fathers of our
religion, have expended their labours in clearing what was revealed from the
obscurities of language; and the results of their experience and researches
have been embodied in the form of evangelical discipline. That this discipline
must be salutary, is evident from the view of the weakness of human nature that
we have already taken: and that it may be profitable to us, and all who listen
to its precepts and its liturgy, may God, in his infinite wisdom, grant.--And
now to,” &c.
With this ingenious
reference to his own forms and ministry, Mr. Grant concluded his discourse. The
most profound attention had been paid to the sermon during the whole of its
delivery, although the prayers had not been received with such a perfect
demonstration of respect.-- This was by no means an intended slight of that
liturgy, to which the divine had alluded, but was the habit of a people, who
owed their very existence, as a distinct nation, to the doctrinal character of
their ancestors. Sundry looks of private dissatisfaction were exchanged between
Hiram and one or two of the leading members of the conference, but the feeling
went no farther at that time; and the congregation, after receiving the
blessing of Mr. Grant, dispersed in silence, and with great decorum.
Your creeds and dogmas
of a learned church,
May build a fabric, fair
with moral beauty;
But it would seem, that
the strong hand of God
Can, only, ’rase the
devil from the heart.
Deo
While the congregation
was separating, Mr. Grant approached the place where Elizabeth and her father
were seated, leading the youthful female, whom we have mentioned in the
preceding chapter, and presented her as his daughter. Her reception was as
cordial and frank as the manners of the country, and the value of good society,
could render it; the two young women feeling, instantly, that they were
necessary to the comfort of each other. The Judge, to whom the clergyman’s
daughter was also a stranger, was pleased to find one, who, from habits, sex,
and years, could probably contribute largely to the pleasures of his own child,
during her first privations, on her removal from the associations of a city to
the solitude of Templeton; while Elizabeth, who had been forcibly struck with
the sweetness and devotion of the youthful suppliant, removed the slight
embarrassment of the timid stranger, by the ease and finish of her own manners.
They were at once acquainted, and, during the ten minutes that the “academy”
was clearing, engagements were made between the young people, not only for
their pursuits during the succeeding day, after the service, but they would
probably have embraced in their arrangements half of the winter, had not the
divine interrupted them, by saying--
“Gently, gently, my
dear Miss Temple, or you will make my girl too dissipated. You forget that she
is my housekeeper, and that my domestic affairs must remain unattended to,
should Louisa accept of half the kind offers that you are so good as to make
her.”
“And why should they
not be neglected entirely, sir?” interrupted Elizabeth. “There are but two of
you; and certain I am that my father’s house will not only contain you both.
but will open its doors spontaneously, to receive such guests. Society is a
good, not to be rejected on account of cold forms, in this wilderness, sir; and
I have often heard my father say, that hospitality is not a virtue in a new
country, the favour being conferred on the host by the guest.”
“The manner in which
Judge Temple exercises its rites, would confirm this opinion,” said the divine;
“but we must not trespass too freely.-- Doubt not that you will see us often;
my child particularly, during the frequent visits that I shall be compelled to
make to the distant parts of the country. But to obtain an influence with such
a people,” he continued, glancing his eyes towards the few, who were still
lingering, as curious observers of the interview, “a clergyman must not awaken
envy or distrust, by dwelling under so splendid a roof as that of Judge Temple.”
“You like the roof,
then, Mr. Grant,” cried Richard, who had been directing the extinguishment of
the fires, and other little necessary duties, and who now approached, so as to
hear the close of the divine’s speech--“I am glad to find one man of taste at
last. Here’s ’duke now, pretends to call it by every abusive name he can
invent; but though ’duke is a very tolerable Judge, sir, he is a very poor
carpenter, let me tell him. Well, sir, well, I think we may say, without
boasting, that the service was as well performed this evening as you often see;
I think, quite as well as I ever knew it to be done in old Trinity--that is, if
we except the organ. But there is the schoolmaster, leads a psalm with a very
good air. I used to lead myself, but latterly I have sung nothing but bass.
There is a good deal of science to be shown in the bass, and it affords a fine
opportunity to show off a full, deep voice. Benjamin, too, sings a good bass,
though he is often out in the words. Did you ever hear Benjamin sing the ‘Bay
of Biscay, O?’ ”
“I believe he gave us
part of it this evening,” said Marmaduke, laughing. “There was, now and then, a
fearful quaver in his voice, and it seems that Mr. Penguillian, like most
others who do one thing particularly well, he knows nothing else. He has,
certainly, a wonderful partiality to one tune, and he has a prodigious
self-confidence in that one, for he delivers himself like a north-wester
sweeping across the lake.--But come, gentleman, our way is clear, and the
sleigh waits.-- Good evening, Mr. Grant. Good night, young lady. Remember that
you dine beneath the Corinthian roof to-morrow, with Elizabeth.”
The parties separated,
Richard holding a close dissertation with Mr. Le Quoi, as they descended the
stairs, on the subject of psalmody, which he closed by a violent eulogium on
the air of the “Bay of Biscay O,” as particularly connected with his friend
Benjamin’s execution.
During the preceding
dialogue, Mohegan had retained his seat, with his head shrouded in his blanket,
as seemingly inattentive to surrounding objects, as the departing congregation
was, itself, to the presence of the aged chief. Natty, also, continued on the
log, where he had first placed himself, with his head resting on one of his
hands, while the other held the rifle, which was thrown carelessly across his
lap. His countenance expressed extraordinary uneasiness, and the occasional
unquiet glances, that he had thrown around him during the service, plainly
indicated some unusual causes for unhappiness. His continuing seated was,
however, from respect to the Indian chief, to whom he paid the utmost
deference, on all occasions, although it was mingled with the rough manner of a
hunter.
The young companion of
these two ancient inhabitants of the forest, remained, also, standing before
the extinguished brands, probably from an unwillingness to depart without his
comrades. The room was now deserted by all but this group, the divine and his
daughter. As the party from the Mansion-house disappeared, John arose, and
dropping the blanket from his head, he shook back the mass of black hair from
his face, and approaching Mr. Grant, he extended his hand, and said, solemnly--
“Father, I thank you.
The words that have been said, since the rising moon, have gone upward, and the
Great Spirit is glad. What you have told your children, they will remember, and
be good.” He paused a moment, and then elevating himself to all the grandeur of
an Indian chief, he added--“If Chingachgook lives to travel towards the setting
sun, after his tribe, and the Great Spirit carries him over the lakes and
mountains, with the breath in his body, he will tell his people the good talk
he has heard; and they will believe him; for who can say that Mohegan has ever
lied?”
“Let him place his
dependence on the goodness of Divine mercy,” said Mr. Grant, to whom the proud
consciousness of the Indian sounded a little heterodox, “and it never will
desert him. When the heart is filled with love to God, there is no room left
for sin.--But, young man, to you I owe not only an obligation, in common with
those you saved this evening, on the mountain, but my thanks, for your respectful
and pious manner, in assisting in the service, at a most embarrassing moment. I
should be happy to see you sometimes, at my dwelling, when, perhaps, my
conversation may strengthen you in the path which you appear to have chosen. It
is so unusual to find one of your age and appearance, in these woods, at all
acquainted with our holy liturgy, that it lessens at once the distance between
us, and I feel that we are no longer strangers. You seem quite at home in the
service: I did not perceive that you had even a book, although good Mr. Jones
had laid several in different parts of the room.”
“It would be strange,
if I were ignorant of the service of our church, sir,” returned the youth,
modestly, for I was baptised in its communion, and I have never yet attended
public worship elsewhere. For me, to use the forms of any other denomination,
would be as singular as our own have proved, to the people here this evening.”
“You give me great
pleasure to hear you, my dear sir,” cried the divine, seizing the other by the
hand, and shaking it cordially.--“You will go home with me now--indeed you
must--my child has yet to thank you for saving my life. I will listen to no
apologies. This worthy Indian, and your friend there, will accompany us.--Bless
me! to think that he has arrived at manhood, in this country, without entering
a dissenting meeting-house!”
“No, no,” interrupted
the Leather-stocking, “I must away to the wigwam: there’s work there, that mus’nt
be forgotten, for all your churchings and merry-makings. Let the lad go with
you in welcome; he is used to keeping company with ministers, and talking of
such matters; so is old John, who was christianized by the Moravians, about the
time of the old war. But I am a plain, unlarned man, that has sarved the king and
his country, in his day, ag’in the French and savages, but never so much as
looked into a book, or larnt a letter of scholarship, in my born days. I’ve
never seen the use of sitch in-door kind of work, though I have lived to be
partly bald, and in my time, have killed two hundred beaver in a season, and
that without counting the other game.-- If you mistrust what I am telling you,
you can ask Chingachgook there, for I did it in the heart of the Delaware
country, and the old man is knowing to the truth of every word I say.”
“I doubt not, my
friend, that you have been both a valiant soldier and skilful hunter, in your
day,” said the divine; “but more is wanting, to prepare you for that end which
approaches. You may have heard the maxim, that ‘young men may die, but that old
men must.’ ”
“I’m sure I never was
so great a fool as to expect to live for ever,” said Natty, giving one of his
silent laughs: “no man need do that, who trails the savages through the woods,
as I have done, and lives, for the hot months, on the lakestreams. I’ve a
strong constitution, I must say that for myself, as is plain to be seen, for I’ve
drank the Onondaga water a hundred times, while I’ve been watching the
deer-licks, when the fever-an-agy seeds was to be seen in it, as plain and as
plenty as you can see the rattle-snakes on old Crumhorn. But then, I never
expected to hold out for ever; though there’s them living, who have seen the
Garman Flats a wilderness, ay! and them that’s larned, and acquainted with
religion too; though you might look a week now and not find even the stump of a
pine on them; and that’s a wood, that lasts in the ground the better part of a
hundred years.”
“This is but time, my
good friend,” returned Mr. Grant, who began to take an interest in the welfare
of his new acquaintance, “but it is for eternity that I would have you prepare.
It is incumbent on you to attend places of public worship, as I am pleased to
see that you have done this evening. Would it not be heedless in you to start
on a day’s toil of hard hunting, and leave your ramrod and flint behind you?”
“It must be a young
hand in the woods,” interrupted Natty, with another laugh, “that didn’t know
how to dress a rod out of an ash sapling, or find a fire-stone in the
mountains. No, no, I never expected to live for ever; but I see, times be
altering in these mountains from what they was thirty years ago, or for that
matter, ten years. But might makes right, and the law is stronger than an old
man, whether he is one that has much larning, or only one like me, that is
better now at standing at the passes than in following the hounds, as I once
used to could. Heigh-ho! I never know’d preaching come into a settlement, but
it made game scearce, and raised the price of gunpowder; and that’s a thing
that’s not as easily made as a ramrod, or an Indian flint.”
The divine, perceiving
that he had given his opponent an argument, by his own unfortunate selection of
a comparison, very prudently relinquished the controversy, for the present;
although he was fully determined to resume it, at a more happy moment.
Repeating his request to the young hunter, with great earnestness, the youth
and Indian consented to accompany him and his daughter to the dwelling, that
the care of Mr. Jones had provided for their temporary residence.
Leather-stocking persevered in his intention of returning to the hut, and at
the door of the building they separated.
After following the
course of one of the streets of the village, for a short distance, Mr. Grant,
who led the way, turned into a field, through a pair of open bars, and entered
a foot-path, of but sufficient width to admit of only one person to walk in it,
at a time. The moon had gained a height that enabled her to throw her rays
nearly perpendicularly on the valley; and the distinct shadows of the party
flitted along on the banks of the silvery snow, like the presence of aerial
figures, gliding to their appointed place of meeting. The night still continued
intensely cold, although not a breath of wind was to be felt. The path was beaten
so hard, that the gentle female, who made one of the party, moved with ease
along its windings; though the frost emitted a low creaking, at the impression
of even her light footsteps.
The clergyman, in his
dark dress of broadcloth, with his mild, benevolent countenance occasionally
turned towards his companions, expressing that look of subdued care, that was
its characteristic, presented the first object of this singularly constituted
group. Next to him moved the Indian, with his hair falling about his face, his
head uncovered, and the rest of his form concealed beneath his blanket. As his
swarthy visage, with its muscles fixed in rigid composure, was seen under the
light of the moon, which struck his face obliquely, he seemed a picture of
resigned old age, on whom the storms of winter had beaten in vain, for the
greater part of a century; but when, in turning his head, the rays fell
directly on his dark, fiery eyes, they told a tale of passions unrestrained,
and of thoughts free as the air he breathed. The slight person of Miss Grant,
which followed next, and which was but too thinly clad for the severity of the
season, formed a marked contrast to the wild attire, and uneasy glances of the
Delaware chief; and more than once, during their walk, the young hunter,
himself no insignificant figure in the group, was led to consider the
difference in the human form, as the face of Mohegan, and the gentle
countenance of Miss Grant, with eyes that rivalled the soft hue of the sky in
colour, met his view, at the instant that each turned, to throw a glance at the
splendid orb, that lighted their path. Their way, which led through fields,
that lay at some distance in the rear of the houses, was cheered by a
conversation, that flagged or became animated with the subject. The first to
speak was the divine.
“Really,” he said, “it
is so singular a circumstance to meet with one of your age that has not been
induced, by an idle curiosity, to visit any other church than the one in which
he has been educated, that I feel a strong curiosity to know the history of a
life so fortunately regulated.-- Your education must have been an excellent
one; as indeed is evident from your manners and language. Of which of the
states are you a native, Mr. Edwards? for such, I believe, was the name that
you gave to Judge Temple.”
“Of this--”
“Of this! I was at a
loss to conjecture, from your dialect, which does not partake, particularly, of
the peculiarities of any country with which I am acquainted. You have, then,
resided much in the cities, for no other part of this country is so fortunate
as to possess the constant enjoyment of our excellent liturgy.”
The young hunter
smiled, as he listened to the divine, while he so clearly betrayed from what
part of the country he had come himself; but, for reasons, probably, connected
with his present situation, he made no answer.
“I am delighted to meet
with you, my young friend, for I think an ingenuous mind, such as I doubt not
yours must be, will exhibit all the advantages of a settled doctrine and devout
liturgy. You perceive how I was compelled to bend to the humours of my hearers
this evening. Good Mr. Jones wished me to read the communion, and, in fact, all
the morning service; but, happily, the canons do not require this, in an
evening. It would have wearied a new congregation; but tomorrow I purpose
administering the sacrament-- do you commune, my young friend?”
“I believe not, sir,”
returned the youth, with a little embarrassment, that was not at all diminished
by Miss Grant’s pausing involuntarily, and turning her eyes on him in evident
surprise--“I fear that I am not qualified; I have never yet approached the
altar; neither would I wish to do it, while I find so much of the world
clinging to my heart, as I now experience.”
“Each must judge for
himself,” said Mr. Grant; “though I should think, that a youth who had never
been blown about by the wind of false doctrines, and who has enjoyed the
advantages of our liturgy for so many years, in its purity, might safely come.
Yet, sir, it is a solemn festival, which none should celebrate, until there is
reason to hope it is not mockery. I observed, this evening, in your manner to
Judge Temple, a resentment, that bordered on one of the worst of human
passions.--We will cross this brook on the ice: it must bear us all, I think,
in safety.-- Be careful not to slip, my child.” While speaking, he descended a
little bank, by the path, and crossed one of the small streams that poured
their waters into the lake; and, turning to see his daughter pass, observed
that the youth had advanced, and was kindly directing her footsteps. When all
were safely over, he moved up the opposite bank, and continued his discourse:--“It
was wrong, my dear sir, very wrong, to suffer such feelings to rise, under any
circumstances, and especially in the present, where the evil was not intended.”
“There is good in the
talk of my father,” said Mohegan, stopping short, and causing those who were
behind him to pause also; “It is the talk of Miquon. The white man may do as
his fathers have told him; but the ‘Young Eagle’ has the blood of a Delaware
chief in his veins: it is red, and the stain it makes, can only be washed out
with the blood of a Mingo.”*
Mr. Grant was surprised
by the interruption of the Indian, and stopping, faced the speaker. His mild
features were confronted to the fierce and determined looks of the chief, and
expressed all the horror that he felt, at hearing such sentiments from one who
professed the religion of his Saviour. Raising his hands to a level with his
head, he exclaimed--
“John, John! is this
the religion you have learned from the Moravians? But no--I will not be so
uncharitable as to suppose it. They are a pious, a gentle, and a mild people,
and could never tolerate these passions. Listen to the language of the
Redeemer--‘But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you; do
good to them that hate you; and pray for them that despitefully use you and
persecute you.’-- This is the command of God, John, and without striving to
cultivate such feelings, no man can see him.”
The Indian heard the
exclamation of the divine with attention; the unusual fire of his eye gradually
softened, and his muscles relaxed into their ordinary composure; but, slightly
shaking his head, he motioned with dignity for Mr. Grant to resume his walk,
and followed himself again in silence. The agitation of the divine caused him
to move with unusual rapidity along the deep path, and the Indian, without any
apparent exertion, kept an equal pace; but the young hunter observed the female
to linger in her steps, until a trifling distance intervened between the two
former and the latter. Struck by the circumstance, and not perceiving any new
impediment to retard her footsteps, the youth made a tender of his assistance,
by saying--
“You are fatigued, Miss
Grant; the snow yields to the foot, and you are unequal to the strides of us
men. Step on the crust, I entreat you, and take the help of my arm. Yonder
light is, I believe, the house of your father; but it seems yet at some distance.”
“I am quite equal to
the walk,” returned a low, tremulous voice; “but I am startled by the manner of
that Indian chief. Oh! his eye was horrid, as he turned to the moon, in
speaking to my father. But I forget, sir; he is your friend, and, by his language,
may be your relative; and yet, of you I do not feel afraid.”
The young man stepped
on the bank of snow, which firmly sustained his weight, and by a gentle effort,
induced his companion to follow him. Drawing her arm through his own, he lifted
his cap from his head, allowing his dark locks to flow in rich curls over his
open brow, and walked by her side, with an air of conscious pride, as if
inviting an examination of his inmost thoughts.-- Louisa took but a furtive
glance at his person, and moved quietly along, at a rate that was greatly
quickened by the aid of his arm.
“You are but little
acquainted with this peculiar people, Miss Grant,” he said, “or you would know
that revenge is a virtue with an Indian. They are taught, from infancy upward,
to believe it a duty, never to allow an injury to pass unresisted; and nothing
but the stronger claims of hospitality, can guard one against their
resentments, where they have power to act their will.”
“Surely, sir,” said
Miss Grant, involuntarily withdrawing her arm from his, “you have not been
educated with such unholy sentiments.”
“It might be a
sufficient answer to your excellent father, to say that I was educated in the
church,” he returned; “but to you I will add, that I have been taught deep and
practical lessons of forgiveness. I believe that, on this subject, I have but
little cause to reproach myself; but it shall be my endeavour, that there yet
be less.”
While speaking, he
stopped, and stood with his arm again proffered to her assistance. As he ended,
she quietly accepted his offer, and they resumed their walk.
Mr. Grant and Mohegan
had reached the door of the former’s residence, and stood waiting near its
threshold, for the arrival of their younger companions. The former was
earnestly occupied, in endeavouring to correct, by his precepts, the evil
propensities, that he had discovered in the Indian, during their conversation;
which the latter heard in profound, but respectful attention. On the arrival of
the young hunter and the lady, they entered the building.
The house stood at some
distance from the village, in the centre of a field, surrounded by stumps, that
were peering above the snow, bearing caps of pure white nearly two feet in
thickness. Not a tree or a shrub was nigh it; but the house, externally,
exhibited that cheerless, unfinished aspect, which is so common to the
hastily-erected dwellings of a new country. The uninviting character of its
outside was, however, happily contrasted by the exquisite neatness, and
comfortable warmth, within.
They entered an
apartment that was fitted as a parlour, though the large fire-place, with its
culinary arrangements, betrayed the domestic uses to which it was occasionally
applied. The bright blaze from the hearth, rendered the light that proceeded
from the candle that Louisa produced, unnecessary; for the scanty furniture of
the room was easily seen and examined, by the former. The floor was covered, in
the centre, by a carpet made of rags, a species of manufacture that was, then,
and yet continues to be, much in use, in the interior; while its edges, that
were exposed to view, were of unspotted cleanliness. There was a trifling air
of better life, in a tea table and work-stand, as well as in an old-fashioned
mahogany book-case; but the chairs, the dining-table, and the rest of the
furniture, where of the plainest and cheapest construction. Against the walls
were hung a few specimens of needle-work and drawing, the former executed with
great neatness, though of somewhat equivocal merit in their designs, while the
latter were strikingly deficient in both.
One of the former
represented a tomb, with a youthful female weeping over it, exhibiting a church
with arched windows, in the back-ground. On the tomb were the names, with the
dates of the births and deaths, of several individuals, all of whom bore the
name of Grant. An extremely cursory glance at this record, was sufficient to
discover to the young hunter the domestic state of the divine. He there read,
that he was a widower, and that the innocent and timid maiden, who had been his
companion, was the only surviver of six children. The knowledge of the
dependence, which each of these meek christians had on the other, for
happiness, threw an additional charm around the gentle, but kind attentions,
which the daughter paid to the father.
These observations
occurred while the party were seating themselves before the cheerful fire,
during which time, there was a suspension of their discourse. But when each was
comfortably arranged, and Louisa, after laying aside a thin coat of faded silk,
and a Gipsy hat, that was more becoming to her modest, ingenuous countenance,
than appropriate to the season, had taken a chair between her father and the
youth, the former resumed the conversation.
“I trust, my young
friend,” he said, “that the education which you have received, has eradicated
most of those revengeful principles, which you may have inherited by descent;
for I understand from the expressions of John, that you have some of the blood
of the Delaware tribe. Do not mistake me, I beg, for it is not colour, nor
lineage, that constitutes merit; and I know not, that he who claims affinity to
the proper owners of this soil, has not the best right to tread these hills
with the lightest conscience.”
Mohegan turned solemnly
to the speaker, and, with the peculiarly significant gestures of an Indian, he
spoke:--
“Father, you are not
yet past the summer of life; your limbs are young. Go to the highest hill, and
look around you. All that you see, from the rising to the setting sun, from the
head-waters of the great spring, to where the ‘crooked river’ is hid by the
hills, is his. He has Delaware blood, and his right is strong. But the brother
of Miquon is just: he will cut the country in two parts, as the river cuts the
low-lands, and will say to the ‘Young Eagle,’ Child of the Delawares! take
it--keep it--and be a chief in the land of your fathers.”
“Never!” exclaimed the
young hunter, with a vehemence that destroyed the rapt attention with which the
divine and his daughter were listening to the earnest manner of the Indian--“The
wolf of the forest is not more rapacious for his prey, than that man is greedy
for gold; and yet his glidings into wealth are as subtle as the movements of a
serpent.”
“Forbear, forbear, my
son, forbear,” interrupted Mr. Grant.--“These angry passions must be subdued.
The accidental injury you have received from Judge Temple, has heightened the
sense of your hereditary wrongs. But remember, that the one was unintentional,
and that the other is the effect of political changes, which have, in their
course, greatly lowered the pride of kings, and swept mighty nations from the
face of the earth. Where now are the Philistines, who so often held the
children of Israel in bondage! or that city of Babylon, which rioted in luxury
and vice, and who styled herself the Queen of Nations, in the drunkenness of
her pride? Remember the prayer of our holy litany, where we implore the Divine
power--“That it may please thee to forgive our enemies, persecutors, and
slanderers, and to turn their hearts.” The sin of the wrongs which have been
done to the natives is shared by Judge Temple, only, in common with a whole
people, and your arm will speedily be restored to its strength.”
“This arm!” repeated
the youth, scornfully, pacing the floor in violent agitation; “think you, sir,
that I believe the man a murderer!--oh, no! he is too wily, too cowardly, for
such a crime. But, let him and his daughter riot in their wealth --there will a
day of retribution come. No, no, no,” he continued, as he trod the floor more
calmly--“it is for Mohegan to suspect him of such a crime, as an intent to
injure me; but the trifle is not worth a second thought.”
He seated himself, and
hid his face between his hands, as they rested on his knees.
“It is the hereditary
violence of a native’s passion, my child,” said Mr. Grant, in a low tone, to
his affrighted daughter, who was clinging, in terror, to his arm. “He is mixed
with the blood of the Indians, you have heard; and neither the refinements of
education, nor the advantages of our excellent liturgy, have been able entirely
to eradicate the evil. But care and time will do much for him yet.”
Although the divine
spoke in a low tone, yet what he uttered was heard by the youth, who raised his
head, with a smile of indefinite expression, and spoke more calmly:--
“Be not alarmed, Miss
Grant, at either the wildness of my manner, or that of my dress. I have been
carried away by passions, that I should struggle to repress. I must attribute
it, with your father, to the blood in my veins, although I would not impeach my
lineage willingly; for it is all that is left me to boast of. Yes! I am proud
of my descent from a Delaware chief, who was a warrior that ennobled human
nature. Old Mohegan, was his friend, and will vouch for his virtues.”
Mr. Grant here took up
the discourse, and, finding the young man more calm, and the aged chief
attentive, he entered into a full and theological discussion of the duty of
forgiveness. The conversation lasted for more than an hour, when the visiters
arose, and, after exchanging good wishes with their entertainers, they
departed. At the door they separated, Mohegan taking the direct route to the
village, while the youth moved towards the lake. The divine stood at the
entrance of his dwelling, regarding the figure of the aged chief, as it glided,
at an astonishing gait, for his years, along the deep path; his black, straight
hair, just visible over the bundle formed by his blanket, which was sometimes
blended with the snow under the silvery light of the moon. From the rear of the
house was a window, that overlooked the lake; and here Louisa was found by her
father, when he entered, gazing, intently on some object, in the direction of
the eastern mountain. He approached the spot, and saw the tall figure of the
young hunter, at the distance of half a mile, walking with prodigious steps,
across the wide fields of frozen snow, that covered the ice, towards the point,
where he knew the hut that was inhabited by the Leather-stocking was situated,
on the margin of the lake, under a rock, that was crowned by pines and
hemlocks. At the next instant, the wildly looking form entered the dark shadow,
that was cast from the overhanging trees, and was lost to view.
“It is marvellous, how
long the propensities of the savage continue, in that remarkable race,” said
the good divine; “but if he perseveres, as he has commenced, his triumph shall
yet be complete. Remember me, my child, to lend him the homily ‘against peril
of idolatry,’ at his next visit.”
“Surely, father,” cried
the maiden, “you do not think him in danger of relapsing into the worship of
his ancestors!”
“No, my child,”
returned the clergyman, laying his hand affectionately on her flaxen locks, and
smiling, “his white blood would prevent it; but there is such a thing as the
idolatry of our passions.”
And I’ll drink out of
the quart pot,
Here’s a health to the
barley mow.
Drinking Song
On one of the corners,
where the two principal streets of Templeton intersected each other, stood, as
we have already mentioned, the inn, that was called the “Bold Dragoon.” In the
original plan, it was ordained, that the village should stretch along the
little stream, that rushed down the valley, and the street which led from the
lake to the academy, was intended to be its western boundary. But convenience
frequently frustrates the best regulated plans. The house of Mr., or as, in
consequence of commanding the militia of that vicinity, he was called Captain
Hollister, had, at an early day, been erected directly facing the main street,
and ostensibly interposed a barrier to its further progress. Horsemen, and
subsequently teamsters, however, availed themselves of an opening, at the end
of the building, to shorten their passage westward, until, in time, the regular
highway was laid out along this course, and houses were gradually built, on
either side, so as effectually to prevent any subsequent correction of the
evil.
There were two material
consequences which followed this insidious change in the regular plans of
Marmaduke. The one, that the main street, after running about half its length,
was suddenly reduced to precisely that difference in its width; and the other,
that the “Bold Dragoon” became, next to the Mansion-house, by far the most
conspicuous edifice in the place.
This conspicuousness,
aided by the characters of the host and hostess, gave the tavern an advantage
over all its future competitors, that no circumstances could conquer. An effort
was, however, made to do so; and, at the corner diagonally opposite, stood a
new building, that was intended, by its occupants, to look down all opposition.
It was a house of wood, ornamented in the prevailing style of architecture, and
about the roof and ballustrades, was one of the three imitators of the
Mansion-house. The upper windows were filled with rough boards, secured by
nails, to keep out the cold air; for the edifice was far from finished,
although glass was to be seen in the lower apartments, and the light of the
powerful fires, within, denoted that it was already inhabited. The exterior was
painted white, on the front, and on the end which was exposed to the street;
but in the rear, and on the side which was intended to join the neighbouring
house, it was coarsely smeared with Spanish brown. Before the door stood two
lofty posts, connected at the top by a beam, from which was suspended an
enormous sign, ornamented around its edges, with certain curious carvings, in
pine boards, and on its faces, loaded with masonic emblems. Over these
mysterious figures, was written, in large letters, “The Templetown
Coffee-House, and Traveller’s Hotel,” and beneath them, “By Habakkuk Foote and
Joshua Knapp.” This was a fearful rival to the “Bold Dragoon,” as our readers
will the more readily perceive, when we add, that the same sonorous names were
to be seen over the door of a newly-erected store in the village, a hatter’s
shop, and the gates of a tan-yard. But, either because too much was attempted
to be well executed, or that the “Bold Dragoon” had established a repution
which could not be easily shaken, not only Judge Temple and his friends, but
most of the villagers also, who were not in debt to the powerful firm we have
named, frequented the inn of Captain Hollister, on all occasions where such a
house was necessary.
On the present evening,
the limping veteran, and his consort, were hardly housed, after their return
from the academy, when the sounds of stamping feet at their threshold announced
the approach of visiters, who were probably assembling, with a view to compare
opinions, on the subject of the ceremonies they had witnessed.
The public, or, as it
was called, the “bar-room,” of the “Bold Dragoon,” was a spacious apartment,
lined on three sides with benches, and on the fourth by fire-places. Of the
latter, there were two, of such size as to occupy, with their enormous jambs,
the whole of that side of the apartment where they were placed, excepting room
enough for a door or two, and a little apartment in one corner, which was
protected by miniature pallisadoes, and profusely garnished with bottles and
glasses. In the entrance to this sanctuary, Mrs. Hollister was seated, with
great gravity in her air, while her husband occupied himself with stirring the
fires; moving the logs with a large stake, burnt to a point at one end.
“There, Sargeant dear,”
said the landlady, after she thought the veteran had got the logs arranged in
the most judicious manner, “give over poking the fires, for it’s no good yee’ll
be doing, now that they burn so convaniently. There’s the glasses on the table
there, and the mug that the Doctor was taking his cider and ginger in, before
the fire here,--jist put them in the bar, will ye? for we’ll be having the
Joodge, and the Major, and Mr. Jones, down the night, widout reckoning Benjamin
Poomp, and the Lawyers: so ye’ll be fixing the room tidy; and put both
flip-irons in the coals; and tell Jude, the lazy, black baste, that if she’s no
be claneing up the kitchen, I’ll jist turn her out of the house, and she may
live wid the jontlemen that kape the ‘Coffee-house,’ good luck to ’em. Och!
Sargeant, sure it’s a great privilege to go to a mateing, where a body can sit
asy, widout joomping up and down so often, as this Mr. Grant is doing the same.”
“It’s a privilege at
all times, Mistress Hollister, whether we stand or be seated; or, as good Mr.
Whitefield used to do, after he had made a wearisome day’s march, get on our
knees and pray, like Moses of old, with a flanker to the right and left, to
lift his hands to heaven,” returned her husband, who composedly performed what
she had directed to be done. “It was a very pretty fight, Betty, that the
Israelites had, on that day, with the Amalekites. It seems that they fout on a
plain, for Moses is mentioned, as having gone on to the heights, to overlook
the battle, and wrestle in prayer; and if I should judge, with my little
larning, the Israelites depended mainly on their horse, for it is written, that
Joshua cut up the enemy with the edge of the sword: from which I infer, not
only that they were horse, but well disciplyn’d troops. Indeed, it says as
much, as that they were chosen men; quite likely volunteers; but raw dragoons
seldom strike with the edge of their swords, particularly if the weapon be any
way crooked.”
“Pshaw! why do ye
bother yourself wid taxts, man, about so small a matter,” interrupted the
landlady; “sure it was the Lord who was wid ’em; for he always sided with the
Jews, at first, before they fell away; and it’s but little matter what kind of
men Joshua commanded, so that he was doing the right bidding. Aven them cursed
millaishy, the Lord forgi’e me for swearing, that was the death of him, wid
their cowardice, would have carried the day in old times. There’s no rason to
be thinking that the soldiers was used to the drill.”
“I must say, Mrs.
Hollister,” rejoined her husband, “that I have not often seen raw troops fight
better than the left flank of the militia, at the time you mention. They
rallied very handsomely, and that without beat of drum, which is no easy thing
to do under fire, and were very steady till he fell. But the scriptures contain
no unnecessary words; and I will maintain, that horse, who know how to strike
with the edge of the sword, must be well disciplyn’d. Many a good sarmon has
been preached about smaller matters than that one word! If the text was not
meant to be particular, why wasn’t it written, with the sword, and not with the
edge? Now, a back-handed stroke, on the edge, takes long practice. Goodness!
what an argument would Mr. Whitefield make of that word edge! As to the
Captain, if he had only called up the guard of dragoons, when he rallied the
foot, they would have shown the inimy what the edge of a sword was; for,
although there was no commissioned officer with them, yet I think I may say,”--the
veteran continued, stiffening his cravat about the throat, and raising himself
up, with the air of a drill-sergeant,--“they were led by a man, who know’d how
to bring them on, in spite of the ravine.”
“Is it lade on ye
would?” cried the landlady, “when ye know yourself, Mr. Hollister, that the
baste he rode was but little able to joomp from one rock to another, and the
animal was as spry as a squirrel? Och! but it’s useless to talk, for he’s gone
this many a long year. I would that he had lived to see the true light; but
there’s mercy for a brave sowl, that died in the saddle, fighting for the
liberty. It’s a poor tomb-stone they have given him, any way, and many a good
one that died like himself: but the sign is very like, and I will be kapeing it
up, while the blacksmith can make a hook for it to swing on, for all the ‘coffee-houses’
betwane this and Albany.”
There is no saying
where this desultory conversation would have led the worthy couple, had not the
men who were stamping the snow off their feet, on the little platform before
the door, suddenly ceased their occupation, and entered the bar-room.
For ten or fifteen
minutes, the different individuals, who intended either to bestow or receive
edification, before the fires of the “Bold Dragoon,” on that evening, were
collecting, until the benches were nearly filled with men of different
occupations. Dr. Todd, and a slovenly-looking, half-genteel young man, who took
tobacco profusely, wore a coat of imported cloth, cut with something like a
fashionable air, frequently exhibited a large, French silver watch, with a
chain of woven hair, and who, altogether, seemed as much above the artisans
around him, as he was inferior to the real gentleman, occupied a highback,
wooden settee, in the most comfortable corner in the apartment.
Sundry brown mugs,
containing cider or beer, were placed between the heavy andirons, and little
groups were formed among the guests, as subjects arose, or the liquor was
passed from one to the other. No man was seen to drink by himself, nor in any
instance was more than one vessel considered necessary, for the same beverage;
but the glass, or the mug, was passed from hand to hand, until a chasm in the
line, or a regard to the rights of ownership, would restore the dregs of the potation
to him who defrayed the cost.
Toasts were uniformly
drank; and occasionally, some one, who conceived himself peculiarly endowed by
nature to shine in the way of wit, would attempt some such sentiment as “hoping
that he” who treated “might make a better man than his father;” or “live till
all his friends wished him dead;” while the more humble pot-companion contented
himself by saying, with a most imposing gravity in his air, “come, here’s luck,”
or by expressing some other equally comprehensive desire. In every instance,
the veteran landlord was requested to imitate the custom of the cup-bearers to
kings, and taste the liquor he presented, by the significant invitation of “after
you is manners;” with which request he ordinarily complied, by wetting his
lips, first expressing the wish of “here’s hoping,” leaving it to the
imagination of the hearers to fill the vacuum by whatever good each thought
most desirable. During these movements, the landlady was busily occupied with
mixing the various compounds required by her customers, with her own hands, and
occasionally exchanging greetings and inquiries concerning the conditions of
their respective families, with such of the villagers as approached “the bar.”
At length, the common
thirst being in some measure assuaged, conversation of a more general nature
became the order of the hour. The physician, and his companion, who was one of
the two lawyers of the village, being considered the best qualified to maintain
a public discourse with credit, were the principal speakers, though a remark
was hazarded, now and then, by Mr. Doolittle, who was thought to be their
inferior, only in the enviable point of education. A general silence was
produced on all but the two speakers, by the following observation from the practitioner
of the law:--
“So, Doctor Todd, I
understand that you have been performing an important operation, this evening,
by cutting a charge of buck-shot from the shoulder of the son of
Leather-stocking?”
“Yes, sir,” returned
the other, elevating his little head, with an air of great importance, “I had a
small job, up at the Judge’s, in that way: it was, however, but a trifle to
what it might have been, had it gone through the body. The shoulder is not a
very vital part; and I think the young man will soon be well. But I did not
know that the patient was a son of Leather-stocking: it is news to me, to hear
that Natty had a wife.”
“It is by no means a
necessary consequence,” returned the other, winking, with a shrewd look around
the bar-room; “there is such a thing. I suppose you know, in law, as a ‘filius
nullius.”’
“Spake it out, man,”
exclaimed the landlady; “spake it out in king’s English; what for should ye be
talking Indian, in a room full of christian folks, though it is about a poor
hunter, who is but a little better in his ways than the wild savages
themselves? Och! it’s to be hoped that the missionaries will, in his own time,
make a convarsion of the poor divils; and then it will matter but little, of
what colour is the skin, or wedder there be wool or hair on the head.”
Oh! it is Latin, not
Indian, Miss Hollister,” returned the lawyer, repeating his winks and shrewd
looks; “and Dr. Todd understands Latin, or how would he read the labels on his
gallipots and drawers? No, Miss Hollister, the Doctor understands me; don’t
you, Doctor?”
“Hem--why I guess I am
not far out of the way,” returned Elnathan, endeavouring to imitate the
expression of the other’s countenance, by looking jocular; “Latin is a queer
language, gentlemen;--now, I rather guess there is no one in the room, except
Squire Lippet, who can believe that ‘Far.Av.’ means oatmeal, in English.”
The lawyer, in his
turn, was a good deal embarrassed by this display of learning; for although he
actually had taken his first degree at one of the eastern universities, he was
somewhat puzzled with the terms used by his companion. It was dangerous,
however, to appear to be out-done in learning in a public bar-room, and before
so many of his clients; he therefore put the best face on the matter, and
laughed knowingly, as if there were a good joke concealed under it, that was
understood only by the physician and himself. All this was attentively observed
by the listeners, who exchanged looks of approbation; and the expressions of “tonguey
man,” and “I guess Squire Lippet knows, if any body doos,” were heard in
different parts of the room, as vouchers for the admiration of his auditors.
Thus encouraged, the lawyer rose from his chair, and, turning his back to the
fire, facing the company, he continued--
“The son of Natty, or
the son of nobody, I hope the young man is not going to let the matter drop.
This is a country of laws; and I should like to see it fairly tried, whether a
man who owns, or says he owns, a hundred thousand acres of land, has any more
right to shoot a body, than another. What do you think of it, Dr. Todd?”
“Oh! sir, I am of
opinion that the gentleman will soon be well, as I said before; the wownd isn’t
in a vital part; and as the ball was extracted so soon, and the shoulder was
what I call well attended to, I do not think there is as much danger as there
might have been.”
“I say, Squire
Doolittle,” continued the angry attorney, “you are a magistrate, and know what
is law, and what is not law. I ask you, sir, if shooting a man is a thing that
is to be settled so very easily? Suppose, sir, that the young man had a wife
and family; and suppose that he was a mechanic, like yourself, sir; and suppose
that his family depended on him for bread; and suppose that the ball, instead
of merely going through the flesh, had broken the shoulder-blade, and crippled
him for ever;--I ask you all, gentlemen, supposing this to be the case, whether
a jury wouldn’t give what I call handsome damages?”
As the close of this
supposititious case was addressed to the company, generally, Hiram did not, at
first, consider himself called on for a reply; but finding the eyes of the
listeners bent on him in expectation, he remembered his character for judicial
discrimination, and spoke, observing a due degree of deliberation and dignity
in his manner.
“Why, if a man should
shoot another,” he said, “and if he should do it on purpose, and if the law
took notice on’t, and if a jury should find him guilty, it would be likely to
turn out a stateprison matter.”
“It would so, sir,”
returned the attorney.-- “The law, gentlemen, is no respecter of persons, in a
free country. It is one of the great blessings that has been handed down to us
from our ancestors, that all men are equal in the eye of the law, as they are
by nater. Though some may get property, no one knows how, yet they are not
privileged to transgress the laws, any more than the poorest citizen in the
state. This is my notion, gentlemen; and I think that if a man had a mind to
bring this matter up, something might be made out of it, that would help pay
for the salve--ha! Doctor?”
“Why, sir,” returned
the physician, who appeared a little uneasy at the turn the conversation was
taking, “I have the promise of Judge Temple, before men--not but what I would
take his word as soon as his note of hand--but it was before men. Let me
see--there was Mounshier Ler Quow, and Squire Jones, and Major Hartmann, and
Miss Pettibone, and one or two of the blacks by, when he said that his pocket
would amply reward me for what I did.”
“Was the promise made
before or after the service was performed?” asked the attorney.
“It might have been
both,” returned the discreet physician; “though I’m certain he said so, before
I undertook the dressing.”
“But it seems that he
said his pocket should reward you, Doctor,” observed Hiram; “now I don’t know
that the law will hold a man to such a promise: he might give you his pocket
with six-pence in’t, and tell you to take your pay out on’t.”
“That would not be a
reward in the eye of the law,” interrupted the attorney--“not what is called a ‘quid
pro quo;’ nor is the pocket to be considered as an agent, but as part of a man’s
own person, that is, in this particular. I am of opinion that an action would
lie on that promise, and will undertake to bear him out, free of costs, if he
don’t recover.”
To this proposition the
physician made no reply, but he was observed to cast his eyes around him, as if
to enumerate the witnesses, in order to substantiate this promise also, at a
future day, should it prove necessary. A subject so momentous, as that of suing
Judge Temple, was not very palatable to the present company, in so public a
place; and a short silence ensued, that was only interrupted by the opening of
the door, and the entrance of Natty himself,
The old hunter carried
in his hand his neverfailing companion, his rifle; and, although all of the
company were uncovered, excepting the lawyer, who wore his hat on one side,
with a certain knowing air, Natty moved to the front of one of the fires,
without in the least altering any part of his dress or appearance. Several
questions were addressed to him, on the subject of the game he had killed,
which he answered readily, and with some little interest; and the landlord,
between whom and Natty there existed much cordiality, on account of their both
having been soldiers in their youth, offered him a glass of a liquid, which, if
we might judge from its reception, was no unwelcome guest. When the forester
had gotten his potation also, he quietly took his scat on the end of one of the
logs, that lay nigh to the fires, and the slight interruption, produced by his
entrance, seemed to be forgotten.
“The testimony of the
blacks could not be taken, sir,” continued the lawyer, “for they are all the
property of Mr. Jones, who owns their time. But there is a way by which Judge
Temple, or any other man, might be made to pay for shooting another, and for
the cure in the bargain.-- There is a way, I say, and that without going into
the ‘court of errors’ too.”
“And a mighty big error
ye would make of it, Mister Todd, cried the landlady, “should ye be putting the
matter into the law at all, with Joodge Temple, who has a purse as long as one
of them pines on the hill, and who is an asy man to dale wid, if yees but mind
the humour of him. He’s a good man is Joodge Temple, and a kind one, and one
who will be no the likelier to do the pratty thing, bekaase ye would wish to
tarrify him with the law. I know of but one objaction to the same, which is an
over carelessness about his sowl. It’s nather a Methodie, nor a Papish, nor a
Prasbetyrian, that he is, but jist nothing at all: and it’s hard to think that
he, ‘who will not fight the good fight, under the banners of a rig’lar church,
in this world, will be mustered among the chosen in heaven,’ as my husband, the
Captain there, as ye call him, says--though there is but one captain that I
know, who desaarves the name. I hopes, Lather-stocking, ye’ll no be foolish,
and putting the boy up to try the law in the matter; for ’twill be an evil day
to ye both, when ye first turn the skin of so paceable an animal as a sheep
into a bone of contention. The lad is wilcome to his drink for nothing, until
his shouther will bear the rifle ag’in.”
“Well, that’s gin’rous,”
was heard from several mouths at once, at this liberal offer of the land-lady;
while the hunter, instead of expressing any of that indignation which he might
be supposed to feel, at hearing the hurt of his young companion alluded to,
opened his mouth, with the silent laugh for which he was so remarkable; and
after he had indulged his humour, made this reply--
“I know’d the Judge
would do nothing with his smooth-bore, when he got out of his sleigh. I never
see’d but one smooth-bore, that would carry at all, and that was a French
ducking-piece, upon the big lakes: it had a barrel half as long ag’in as my
rifle, and would throw fine shot into a goose, at a hundred yards; but it made
dreadful work with the game, and you wanted a boat to carry it about in. When I
went with Sir William ag’in the French, at Fort Niagara, all the rangers used
the rifle; and a dreadful weapon it is, in the hands of one who knows how to
charge it, and keeps a steady aim. The Captain knows, for he says he was a
soldier in Shirley’s, and though they were nothing but baggonet-men, he must
know how we cut up the French and Iroquois in the skrimmages, in that war.
Chingach-gook, which means ‘Big Sarpent’ in English, old John Mohegan, who
lives up at the hut with me, was a great warrior then, and was out with us; he
can tell all about it, too; though he was an overhand for the tomahawk, never
firing more than once or twice, before he was running in for the scalps. Ah!
hum! times is dreadfully altered since then. Why, Doctor, there was nothing but
a foot-path, or at the most a track for pack-horses, along the Mohawk, from the
Garman flats clean up to the forts. Now, they say, they talk of running one of
them wide roads with gates on’t, along the river; first making a road, and then
fencing it up! I hunted one season back of the Kaatskills, nigh-hand to the
settlements, and the dogs often lost the scent, when they com’d to them
highways, there was so much travel on them; though I can’t say that the brutes
was of a very good breed.-- Old Hector will wind a deer in the fall of the
year, across the broadest place in the Otsego, and that is a mile and a half,
for I paced it myself on the ice, when the tract was first surveyed under the
Indian grant.”
“It sames to me, Natty,
but a sorry compliment, to call your cumrad after the evil one,” said the
landlady; “and it’s no much like a snake that old John is looking now. Nimrood
would be a more besaming name for the lad, and a more christian too, seeing
that it comes from the Bible. The Sargeant read me the chapter about him, the
night before my christening, and a mighty asement it was, to listen to any
thing from the book.”
“Old John and
Chingachgook were very different men to look on,” returned the hunter, shaking
his head at his melancholy recollections.--“In the ‘fifty-eighth was,’ he was
in the middle of manhood, and was taller than now by three inches. If you had
seen him, as I did, the morning we beat Dieskau, from behind our log walls, you
would have called him as comely a red-skin as ye ever set eyes on. He was
naked, all to his breech-cloth and leggens; and you never seed a creater so
handsomely painted. One side of his face was red, and the other black. His head
was shaved clean, all to a few hairs on the crown, where he wore a tuft of
eagle’s feathers, as bright as if they had come from a peacock’s tail. He had
coloured his sides, so that they looked just like an atomy, ribs and all; for
Chingachgook had a great notion in such things: so that, what with his bold,
fiery countenance, his knife, and his tomahawk, I have never seed a fiercer
warrior on the ground. He played his part, too, like a man; for I seen him next
day, with thirteen scalps on his pole. And I will say that for the ‘Big Snake,’
that he always dealt fair, and never scalped any that he didn’t kill with his
own hands.”
“Well, well,” cried the
landlady; “fighting is fighting, any way, and there’s different fashions in the
thing; though I can’t say that I relish mangling a body after the breath is out
of it; neither do I think it can be uphild by doctrine. I hopes, Sargeant, ye
niver was helping in sitch evil worrek.”
“It was my duty to keep
my ranks, and to stand or fall by the baggonet or lead,” returned the veteran. “I
was then in the fort, and seldom leaving my place, saw but little of the
savages, who kept on the flanks, or in front, skrimmaging. I remember,
howsomever, to have heard mention made of the ‘Great Snake,’ as he was called,
for he was a chief of renown; but little did I ever expect to see him enlisted
in the cause of Christianity, and civilized like old John.”
“Oh! he was
christianized by the Moravians, who was always over intimate with the
Delawares,” said Leather-stocking. “It’s my opinion, that had they been left to
themselves, there would be no such doings now, about the head-waters of the two
rivers, and that these hills mought have been kept as good hunting-ground, by
their right owner, who is not too old to carry a rifle, and whose sight is as
true as a fish-hawk, hovering--”
He was interrupted by
more stamping at the door, and presently the party from the Mansionhouse
entered, followed by the Indian himself.
There’s quart pot, pint
pot, half-pint,
Gill pot, half-gill,
nipperkin,
And the brown bowl-- Here’s
a health to the barley mow,
My brave boys, Here’s a
health to the barley mow.
Drinking Song
Some little commotion
was produced by the appearance of the new guests, during which the lawyer
disappeared from the room. Most of the men approached Marmaduke, and shook his
offered hand, hoping “that the Judge was well;” while Major Hartmann, having
laid aside his hat and wig, and substituted for the latter a warm, peaked,
woollen night-cap, took his seat very quietly, on one end of the settee, which
was relinquished by its former occupants. His tobacco-box was next produced,
and a clean pipe was handed him by the landlord. When he had succeeded in
raising a smoke, the Major gave a long whiff, and turning his head towards the
bar, he said--
“Petty, pring in ter
toddy.”
In the mean time, the
Judge had exchanged his salutations with most of the company, and taken a place
by the side of the Major, and Richard had bustled himself into the most
comfortable seat in the room. Mr. Le Quoi was the last seated, nor did he
venture to place his chair finally, until, by frequent removals, he had
ascertained that he could not possibly intercept a ray of heat from any
individual present. Mohegan found a place on an end of one of the benches, and
somewhat approximated to the bar. When these movements had subsided, the Judge
remarked, pleasantly--
“Well, Betty, I find
you retain your popularity, through all weathers, against all rivals, and
amongst all religions.--How liked you the sermon?”
“Is it the sarmon?”
exclaimed the landlady; “I can’t say but it was rasonable; but the prayers is
mighty unasy. It’s no so small a matter for a body, in their fifty nint’ year,
to be moving so much in church. Mr. Grant sames a godly man, any way, and his
garrel is a hoomble one, and a devout.--Here, John, is a mug of cider lac’d
with whisky. An Indian will drink cider, though he niver be athirst.”
“I must say,” observed
Hiram, with due deliberation, “that it was a tonguey thing; and I rather guess
that it gave considerable satisfaction. There was one part, though, which might
have been left out, or something else put in; but then, I s’pose that, as it
was a written discourse, it is not so easily altered, as where a minister
preaches without notes.”
“Ay! there’s the rub,
Joodge,” cried the landlady; “how can a man stand up and be praching his word,
when all that he is saying is written down, and he is as much tied to it as
iver a thaving dragoon was to the pickets?”
“Well, well,” cried
Marmaduke, waving his hand for silence, “there is enough said; as Mr. Grant
told us, there are different sentiments on such subjects, and in my opinion he
spoke most sensibly.--So Jotham, I am told you have sold your betterments to a
new settler, and have moved into the village and opened a school. Was it cash
or dicker?”
The man who was thus
addressed, occupied a seat immediately behind Marmaduke; and one who was
ignorant of the extent of the Judge’s observation, might have thought he would
have escaped notice. He was of a thin, shapeless figure, with a discontented
expression of countenance, and with something extremely shiftless in his whole
air. Thus spoken to, after turning and twisting a little, by way of
preparation, he made a reply.
“Why, part cash, and
part dicker. I sold out to a Pumfret-man, who was so’thin forehanded. He was to
give me ten dollars an acre for the clearin, and one dollar an acre over the
first cost, on the wood-land; and we agreed to leave the buildins to men. So I
tuck Asa Mountagu, and he tuck Absalom Bement, and they two tuck old Squire
Naphtali Green. And so they had a meetin, and made out a vardict of eighty
dollars for the buildins. There was twelve acres of clearin, at ten dollars,
and eighty-eight at one, and the whull came to jist two hundred and eighty-six
dollars and a half, after paying the men.”
“Hum,” said Marmaduke: “what
did you give for the place?”
“Why, besides what’s
comin to the Judge, I gi’n my brother Tim, a hundred dollars for his bargain;
but then there’s a new house on’t, that cost me sixty more, and I paid Moses a
hundred dollars, for choppin, and loggin, and sowin; so that the whull stood me
in about two hundred and sixty dollars. But then I had a great crop off on’t,
and as I got jist twenty-six dollars and a half more than it cost, I conclude I
made a pretty good trade on’t.”
“Yes, but you forget
that the crop was yours without the trade, and you have turned yourself out of
doors for twenty-six dollars.”
“Oh! the Judge is clean
out,” said the man, with a look of sagacious calculation; “he turned out a span
of horses, that is wuth a hundred and fifty dollars of any man’s money, with a
bran new wagon; fifty dollars in cash; a good note for eighty more; and a
side-saddle, that was valood at seven and a half--so there was jist twelve
shillings betwixt us. I wanted him to turn out a set of harness, and take the
cow and the sap-troughs. He wouldn’t--but I saw through it; he thought I should
have to buy the tacklin afore I could use the wagon and horses; but I know’d a
thing or two myself: I should like to know of what use is the tacklin to him! I
offered him to trade back ag’in, for one hundred and fifty-five. But my woman
said she wanted a churn, so I tuck a churn for the change.”
“And what do you mean
to do with your time this winter? you must remember that time is money.”
“Why, as the master is
gone down country, to see his mother, who, they say, is going to make a die on’t,
I agreed to take the school in hand, till he comes back. If times doosn’t get
wuss in the spring, I’ve some notion of going into trade, or maybe I may move
off to the Genessee; they say they are carryin on a great stroke of business
that-a-way. If the wust comes to the wust, I can but work at my trade, for I
was brought up in a shoe manufactory.”
It would seem, that
Marmaduke did not think his society of sufficient value, to attempt inducing
him to remain where he was; for he addressed no further discourse to the man,
but turned his attention to other subjects.--After a short pause, Hiram
ventured a question:--
“What news does the
Judge bring us from the legislater? it’s not likely that congress has done much
this session; or maybe the French haven’t fit any more battles lately?”
“The French, since they
have beheaded their king, have done nothing but fight,” returned the Judge. “The
character of the nation seems changed. I knew many French gentlemen, during our
war, and they all appeared to me to be men of great humanity and goodness of
heart; but these Jacobins are as blood-thirsty as bull-dogs.”
“There was one
Roshambow wid us, down at Yorrek-town,” cried the landlady; “a mighty pratty
man he was, too; and their horse was the very same. It was there that the
Sargeant got the hurt in the leg, from the English batteries, bad luck to ’em.”
“Ah! mon pauvre Roi!”
murmured Monsieur Le Quoi.
“The legislature have
been passing laws,” continued Marmarduke, “that the country much required.
Among others, there is an act, prohibiting the drawing of seines, at any other
than proper seasons, in certain of our streams and small lakes; and another, to
prohibit the killing of deer in the teeming months. These are laws that were loudly
called for, by judicious men; nor do I despair of getting an act, to make the
unlawful felling of timber a criminal offence.”
The hunter listened to
this detail with breathless attention, and when the Judge had ended, he laughed
in open derision for a moment, before he made this reply:--
“You may make your
laws, Judge, but who will you find to watch the mountains through the long
summer days, or the lakes at night? Game is game, and he who finds may kill;
that has been the law in these mountains for forty years, to my sartain
knowledge; and I think one old law is worth two new ones. None but a green-one
would wish to kill a doe with a fa’n by its side, unless his moccasins was
gettin old, or his leggins ragged, for the flesh is lean and coarse. But a
rifle rings amongst them rocks along the lake shore, sometimes, as if fifty
pieces was fired at once:--it would be hard to tell where the man stood who
pulled the trigger.”
“Armed with the dignity
of the law, Mr. Bumppo,” returned the Judge, gravely, “a vigilant magistrate
can prevent much of the evil that has hitherto prevailed, and which is already
rendering the game scarce. I hope to live to see the day, when a man’s rights
in his game shall be as much respected as his title to his farm.”
“Your titles and your
farms are all new together,” cried Natty; “but laws should be equal, and not
more for one than another. I shot a deer, last Wednesday was a fortnight, and
it floundered through the snow-banks till it got over a brush fence; I catch’d
the lock of my rifle in the twigs, in following, and was kept back, until
finally the creater got off. Now I want to know who is to pay me for that deer;
and a fine buck it was. If there hadn’t been a fence, I should have gotten
another shot into it; and I never draw’d upon any thing that hadn’t wings,
three times running, in my born days.--No, no, Judge, it’s the farmers that
makes the game scearce, and not the hunters.”
“Ter teer is not so
plenty as in ter olt war, Pumppo,” said the Major, who had been an attentive
listener, amidst clouds of smoke; “put ter lant is not mate, as for ter teer to
live on, put for Christians.”
“Why, Major, I believe
you’re a friend to justice and the right, though you go so often to the grand
house; but it’s a hard case to a man, to have his honest calling for a
livelihood stopt by sitch laws, and that too when, if right was done, he mought
hunt or fish on any day in the week, or on the best flat in the Patent, if he
was so minded.”
“I unterstant you,
Letter-stockint,” returned the Major, fixing his black eyes, with a look of
peculiar meaning, on the hunter; “put you tidn’t use to pe so prutent, as to
look ahet mit so much care.”
“Maybe there wasn’t so
much ’casion,” said the hunter, a little sulkily; when he sunk into a profound
silence, from which he was not roused for some time.
“The Judge was saying
so’thin about the French,” Hiram observed, when the pause in the conversation
had continued a decent time.
“Yes, sir,” returned
Marmaduke, “the Jacobins of France seem rushing from one act of licentiousness
to another. They continue those murders, which are dignified by the name of
executions. You have heard, that they have added the death of their Queen to
the long list of their crimes.”
“Les Bętes!” again
murmured Monsieur Le Quoi, turning himself suddenly in his chair, with a
convulsive start.
“The province of La
Vendée is laid waste by the troops of the republic, and hundreds of its
inhabitants, who are royalists in their sentiments, are shot at a time.--La
Vendée is a district in the south-west of France, that continues yet much
attached to the family of the Bourbons: doubtless Monsieur Le Quoi is
acquainted with it, and can describe it more faithfully.”
“Non, non, non, mon
cher ami,” returned the Frenchman, in a suppressed voice, but speaking rapidly,
and gesticulating with his right hand, as if for mercy, while with his left he
concealed his eyes.
“There have been many
battles fought lately,” continued Marmaduke, “and the infuriated republicans
are too often victorious. I cannot say, however, that I am sorry they have
captured Toulon from the English, for it is a place to which they seem to have
a just right.”
“Ah--ha!” exclaimed
Monsieur Le Quoi, springing on his feet, and flourishing both arms with great
animation; “ces Anglais! dey be vipt! De French be one gallant peop’, if dere
vas gen’ra!. Ah--ha! Toulon take! c’est bon! I do vish dat dey take
Londre--pardonnez moi; mais, it ees bon!”
The Frenchman continued
to move about the room with great alacrity for a few minutes, repeating his
exclamations to himself; when, overcome by the contradictory nature of his
emotions, he suddenly burst out of the house, and was seen wading through the
snow towards his little shop, waving his arms on high, as if to pluck down
honour from the moon. His departure excited but little surprise, for the
villagers were used to his manner; but Major Hartmann laughed outright, for the
first time during his visit, as he lifted the mug, and observed--
“Ter Frenchman is
mat--put he is goot as for notting to trink; he is trunk mit joy.”
“The French are good
soldiers,” said Captain Hollister; “they stood us in hand a good turn, down at
York-town; nor do I think, although I am an ignorant man about the great
movements of the army, that his Excellency would have been able to march
against Cornwallis, without their reinforcements,”
“Ye spake the trut’,
Sargeant,” interrupted his wife, “and I would iver have ye be doing the same.
It’s varry pratty men is the French; and jist when I stopt the cart, the time when
ye was pushing on in front it was, to kape the rig’lers in, a rigiment of the
jontlemen marched by, and so I dealt them out to their liking. Was it pay I
got? sure did I, and in good, solid crowns: the divil a bit of continental
could they muster among them all, for love nor money. Och! the Lord forgive me
for swearing and spakeing of sich vanities: but this I will say for the French,
that they paid in good silver; and one glass would go a great way wid ’em, for
they gin’rally handed it back wid a drop in the cup; and that’s a brisk trade,
Joodge, where the pay is good, and the men not over partic’lar.”
“A thriving trade, Mrs.
Hollister,” said Marmaduke. “But what has become of Richard? he jumped up as
soon as seated, and has been absent so long that I am fearful he has frozen.”
“No fear of that,
cousin ’duke,” cried the gentleman himself; “business will sometimes keep a man
warm, the coldest night that every snapt in the mountains. Betty, your husband
told me, as we came out of church, that your hogs were getting mangy, so I have
been out to take a look at them, and found it true. I stepped across, Doctor,
and got your boy to weigh me out a pound of salts, and have been mixing it with
their swill. I’ll bet a saddle of venison against a gray squirrel, that they
are better in a week. And now, Mrs. Hollister, I’m ready for a hissing mug of
flip.”
“Sure, I know’d yee’d
be wanting that same,” said the landlady; “it’s mixt and ready to the boiling.
Sargeant dear, jist be handing up the iron, will ye?--no, the one in the far
fire, it’s black, ye will see.--Ah! you’ve the thing now; look if it’s not as
red as a cherry.”
The beverage was
heated, and Richard took that kind of draught which men are apt to indulge in,
who think that they have just executed a clever thing, especially when they
like the liquor.
“Oh! you have a hand,
Betty, that was formed to mix flip,” cried Richard, when he paused for breath. “The
very iron has a flavour in it. Here, John; drink, man, drink. I and you and Dr.
Todd, have done a good thing with the shoulder of that lad, this very night. ’Duke,
I made a song while you were gone; one day when I had nothing to do; so I’ll
sing you a verse or two, though I haven’t really determined on the tune yet.
What is life but a
scene of care,
Where each one must toil in his way? Then
let us be jolly, and prove that we are
A set of good fellows,
who seem very rare,
And can laugh and sing all the day. Then let us be jolly, And cast away
folly For grief turns a black
head to gray.
There, ’duke, what do
you think of that? There is another verse of it, all but the last line. I haven’t
got a rhyme for the last line yet.--Well, old John, what do you think of the
music? as good as one of your war-songs, ha!”
“Good,” said Mohegan,
who had been sharing too deeply in the potations of the landlady, besides
paying a proper respect to the passing mugs of the Major and Marmaduke.
“Pravo! pravo! Richart,”
cried the Major, whose black eyes were beginning to swim in moisture;
pravissimo! it is a goot song; but Natty Pumppo hast a petter. Letter-stockint,
vilt sing? say, olt poy, vilt sing ter song, as apout the woots?”
“No, no, Major,”
returned the hunter, with a melancholy shake of the head; “I have lived to see
what I thought eyes could never behold in these hills, and I have no heart left
for singing. If he, that has a right to be master and ruler here, is forced to
squinch his thirst, when a-dry, with snow-water, it ill becomes them that have
lived by his bounty to be making merry, as if there was nothing in the world
but sunshine and summer.”
When he had spoken,
Leather-stocking again dropped his head on his kness, and concealed his hard
and wrinkled features with his hands. The change from the excessive cold
without to the heat of the bar-room, coupled with the depth and frequency of
Richard’s draughts, had already levelled whatever inequality there might have
existed between him and the other guests, on the score of spirits; and he now
held out a pair of swimming mugs of foaming flip towards the hunter, as he
cried--
“Merry! ay! merry
Christmas to you, old boy! Sunshine and summer! no! you are blind,
Leather-stocking, ’tis moonshine and winter;-- take these spectacles, and open
your eyes--
So let us be jolly, And cast away folly, For grief turns a black head to gray.
“Hear how old John
turns his quavers. What damned dull music an Indian song is, after all, Major.
I wonder if they ever sing by note?”
While Richard was
singing and talking, Mohegan was uttering dull, monotonous tones, keeping time
by a gentle motion of his head and body. He made use of but few words, and such
as he did utter were in his native language, and consequently, only understood
by himself and Natty. Without heeding Richard, he continued to sing a kind of
wild, melancholy air, that rose, at times, in sudden and quite elevated notes,
and then fell again into the low, quavering sounds, that seemed to compose the
character of his music.
The attention of the
company was now much divided, the men in the rear having formed themselves into
little groups, where they were discussing various matters; among the principal
of which were, the treatment of mangy hogs, and Parson Grant’s preaching; while
Dr. Todd was endeavouring to explain to Marmaduke the nature of the hurt
received by the young hunter. Mohegan continued to sing, while his countenance
was becoming vacant, though, coupled with his thick bushy hair, it was assuming
an expression very much like brutal ferocity. His notes were gradually growing
louder, and soon rose to a height that caused a general cessation in the
discourse. The hunter now raised his head again, and addressed the old warrior,
warmly, in the Delaware language, which, for the benefit of our readers, we
shall render freely into English.
“Why do you sing of
your battles, Chingachgook, and of the warriors you have slain, when the worst
enemy of all is near you, and keeps the Young Eagle from his rights? I have
fought in as many battles as any warrior in your tribe, but cannot boast of my
deeds at such a time as this.”
“Hawk-eye,” said the
Indian, tottering with a doubtful step from his place, “I am the Great Snake of
the Delawares; I can track the Mingoes, like an adder that is stealing on the
whippoor-will’s eggs, and strike them, like the rattlesnake, dead at a blow.
The white man made the tomahawk of Chingachgook bright as the waters of Otsego,
when the last sun is shining; but it is red with the blood of the Maquas.”
“And why have you slain
the Mingo warriors? was it not to keep these hunting grounds and lakes to your
father’s children? and were they not given in solemn council to the Fire-cater?
and does not the blood of a warrior run in the veins of a young chief, who
should speak aloud, where his voice is now too low to be heard?”
The appeal of the
hunter seemed, in some measure, to recall the confused faculties of the Indian,
who turned his face towards the listeners, and gazed intently on the Judge. He
shook his head, throwing his hair back from his countenance, and exposed his
eyes, that were glaring with a fierce expression of wild resentment. But the
man was not himself. His hand seemed to make a fruitless effort to release his
tomahawk, which was confined by its handle to his belt, while his eyes
gradually became again vacant. Richard at that instant thrusting a mug before
him, his features changed to the grin of idiocy, and seizing the vessel with
both hands, he sunk backward on the bench, and drunk until satiated, when he
made an effort to lay aside the mug, with the helplessness of total inebriety.
“Shed not blood!”
exclaimed the hunter, as he watched the countenance of the Indian in its moment
of ferocity--“but he is drunk, and can do no harm. This is the way with all the
savages; give them liquor, and they make dogs of themselves. Well, well--the
time will come when right will be done, and we must have patience.”
Natty still spoke in
the Delaware language, and of course was not understood. He had hardly
concluded, before Richard cried--
“Well, old John is soon
sowed up. Give him a birth, Captain, in the bara, and I will pay for it. I am
rich to-night, ten times richer than ’duke, with all his lands, and military
lots, and funded debts, and bonds, and mortgages.
Come let us be jolly, And cast away folly, For grief--
Drink, King Hiram--drink, Mr. Doo-nothing-- drink, sir, I say. This is a
Christmas eve, which comes, you know, but once a year.” “He! he! he! the Squire is quite moosical to-night,” said Hiram,
whose visage began to give marvellous signs of relaxation. “I rather guess we
shall make a church on’t yet, Squire?”
“A church, Mr.
Doolittle! we will make a cathedral of it! bishops, priests, deacons, wardens,
vestry, and choir; organ, organist, and bellows! By the lord Harry, as Benjamin
says, we will clap a steeple on the other end of it, and make two churches of
it. What say you, ’duke, will you pay? ha! my cousin Judge, wilt pay?”
“Thou makest such a
noise, Dickon,” returned Marmaduke, “it is impossible that I can hear what Dr.
Todd is saying. I think thou observed, it is probable that the wound will fester,
so as to occasion danger to the limb, in this cold weather?”
“Out of nater, sir,
quite out of nater;” said Elnathan, attempting to expectorate, but succeeding
only in throwing a light, frothy substance, like a flake of snow, into the
fire--“quite out of nater, that a wownd so well dressed, and with the ball in
my pocket, should fester. I s’pose, as the Judge talks of taking the young man
into his house, it will be most convenient if I make but one charge on’t.”
“I should think one
would do,” returned Marmaduke, with that arch smile that so often beamed on his
face; leaving the beholder in doubt whether he most enjoyed the character of
his companion, or his own covert humour.
The landlord had
succeeded in placing the Indian on some straw, in one of his out-buildings,
where, covered with his own blanket, John continued for the remainder of the
night.
In the mean time, Major
Hartmann began to grow noisy and jocular; glass succeeded glass, and mug after
mug was introduced, until the carousal had run deep into the night, or rather
morning; when the veteran German expressed an inclination to return to the
Mansion-house. Most of the party had already retired, but Marmaduke knew the
habits of his friend too well to suggest an earlier adjournment. So soon, however,
as the proposal was made, the Judge eagerly availed himself of it, and the trio
prepared to depart. Mrs. Hollister attended them to the door in person,
cautioning her guests as to the safest manner of leaving her premises.
“Lane on Mister Jones,
Major,” said she, “he’s young, and will be a support to ye. Well, it’s a
charming sight to see ye, any way, at the Bould Dragoon; and sure it’s no harm
to be kaping a Christmas-eve wid a light heart, for it’s no telling when we may
have sorrow come upon us. So good night, Joodge, and a merry Christmas to ye
all, to-morrow morning.”
The gentlemen made
their adieus as well as they could, and taking the middle of the road, which
was a fine, wide, and well-beaten path, they did tolerably well until they
reached the gate of the Mansion-house; but on entering the Judge’s domains,
they encountered some slight difficulties. We shall not stop to relate them,
but will just mention that, in the morning, sundry diverging paths were to be
seen in the snow; and that once during their progress to the door, Marmaduke,
missing his companions, was enabled to trace them by one of these paths to a
spot, where he discovered them with nothing visible but their heads; Richard
singing in a most vivacious strain,
“Come let us be jolly, And cast away folly, For grief turns a black head to gray.”
“As she lay, on that
day, in the Bay of Biscay, O!”
Previously to the
occurrence of the scene at the “Bold Dragoon,” Elizabeth had been safely
reconducted to the Mansion-house, where she was left, as its mistress, either
to amuse or employ herself during the evening, as best suited her own
inclination. Most of the lights were extinguished; but as Benjamin adjusted,
with great care and regularity, four large candles, in as many massive
candlesticks of brass, in a row on the sideboard, the hall possessed a peculiar
air of comfort and warmth, contrasted with the cheerless aspect of the room she
had left, in the academy.
Remarkable had been one
of the listeners to Mr. Grant, and returned with her resentment, which had been
not a little excited by the language of the Judge, somewhat softened by
reflection and the worship. She recollected the youth of Elizabeth, and thought
it no difficult task, under present appearances, to exercise that power
indirectly, which hitherto she had enjoyed undisputed. The idea of being
governed, or of being compelled to pay the deference of servitude, was
absolutely intolerable; and she had already determined within herself, some
half-dozen times, to make an effort, that should at once bring to an issue the
delicate point of her domestic condition. But as often as she met the dark,
proud eye of Elizabeth, who was walking up and down the apartment, musing on
the scenes of her youth, and the change in her condition, and perhaps the
events of the day, the housekeeper experienced an awe, that she would not own
to herself could be excited by any thing mortal. It, however, checked her
advances, and for some time held her tongue-tied. At length she determined to commence
the discourse, by entering on a subject that was apt to level all human
distinctions, and in which she might display her own abilities.
“It was quite a wordy
sarmont that Parson Grant give us to-night,” said Remarkable.-- “Them church
ministers be commonly smart sarmonizers; but they write down their idees, which
is a great privilege. I don’t think that by nater they are sitch tonguey
speakers for an offhand discourse, as the standing-order ministers be.”
“And what denomination
do you distinguish as the standing-order?” inquired Miss Temple, with some
surprise.
“Why, the Presbyter’ans,
and Congregationals, and Baptists too, for-ti-’now; and all sitch as don’t go
on their knees to prayer.”
“By that rule, then,
you would call those who belong to the persuasion of my father, the
sittingorder,” observed Elizabeth.
“I’m sure I’ve never
heer’n ’em spoken of by any other name than Quakers, so called,” returned
Remarkable, betraying a slight uneasiness: “I should be the last one to call
them otherwise, for I never in my life used a disparaging tarm of the Judge, or
any of his family. I’ve always set store by the Quakers, they are sitch
pretty-spoken, clever people; and it’s a wonderment to me, how your daddy come
to marry into a church family, for they are as contrary in religion as can be.
One sits still, and for the most part, says nothing, while the church folks
practyse all kinds of ways, so that I sometimes think it quite moosical to see
them; for I went to a church-meeting once before, down country.”
“You have found an
excellence in the church liturgy, that has hitherto escaped me,” said Miss
Temple. “I will thank you to inquire whether the fire in my room burns: I feel
fatigued with my day’s journey, and will retire.”
Remarkable felt a
wonderful inclination to tell the young mistress of the mansion, that by
opening a door she might see for herself; but prudence got the better of her
resentment, and after pausing some little time, as a salvo to her dignity, she
did as desired. The report was favourable, and the young lady, wishing
Benjamin, who was filling the stove with wood, and the housekeeper, each a good
night, withdrew.
The instant that the
door closed on Miss Temple, Remarkable commenced a sort of mysterious,
ambiguous discourse, that was neither abusive nor commendatory of the qualities
of the absent personage; but which seemed to be drawing nigh, by regular
degrees, to a most dissatisfied description. The Major-domo made no reply, but
continued his occupation with great industry, which being happily completed, he
took a look at the thermometer, and then, opening a drawer of the sideboard, he
produced a supply of stimulants, that would have served to keep the warmth in
his system, without the aid of the enormous fire he had been building. A small
stand was drawn up near the stove, and the bottles and the glasses necessary
for convenience, were quietly arranged. Two chairs were placed by the side of
this comfortable situation, when Benjamin, for the first time, appeared to
observe his companion.
“Come,” he cried, “come,
Mistress Remarkable, bring yourself to an anchor in this here chair. It’s a
peeler without, I can tell you, good woman; but what cares I, blow high or blow
low, d’ye see, it’s all the same thing to Ben. The niggers are snug stowed
below, before a fire that would roast an ox whole. The thermometer stands now
at fifty-five, but if there’s any vartue in good maple wood, I’ll weather upon
it, before one glass, as much as ten points more, so that the Squire, when he
comes home from Betty Hollister’s warm room, will feel as hot as a hand that
has given the rigging a lick with bad tar. Come, Mistress, bring up in this
here chair, and tell me how it is you like our new heiress.”
“Why to my notion, Mr.
Penguillum--”
“Pump--Pump,” interrupted
Benjamin; “it’s Christmas-eve, Mistress Remarkable, and so d’ye see, you had
better call me Pump. It’s a shorter name, and as I mean to pump this here
decanter till it sucks, why you may as well call me Pump.”
“Did you ever!” cried
Remarkable, with a laugh that seemed to unhinge every joint in her body: “You’re
a moosical creater, Benjamin, when the notion takes you. But as I was saying, I
rather guess that times will be altered now in this house.”
“Altered!” exclaimed
the Major-domo, eyeing the bottle, that was assuming the clear aspect of cut
glass with astonishing rapidity; “it don’t matter much, Mistress Remarkable, so
long as I keep the keys of the lockers in my pocket.”
“I can’t say,”
continued the housekeeper, “but there’s good eatables and drinkables enough in
the house for a body’s content--a little more sugar, Benjamin, in the
glass--for Squire Jones is an excellent provider. But new lords, new laws; and
I shouldn’t wonder if you and I had an unsartain time on’t in footer.”
“Life is as unsartain
as the wind that blows,” said Benjamin, with a most imposingly moralizing air; “and
nothing is more vari’ble than the wind, Mistress Remarkable, unless you happen
to fall in with the trades, d’ye see, and then you may run for the matter of a
month at a time, with studding-sails on both sides alow and aloft, and with the
cabin-boy at the wheel.”
“I know that life is
disp’ut unsartain,” said Remarkable, compressing her features to the humour of
her companion; “but I expect there will be great changes made in the house to
rights; and that you will find a young man put over your head, as well as there
is one that wants to be over mine; and after having been settled as long as you
have, Benjamin, I should judge that to be hard.”
“Promotion should go
according to length of sarvice,” said the Major-domo; “and if-so-be that they
ship a hand for my birth, or place a new steward aft, I shall throw up my
commission in less time than you can put a pilot-boat in stays. Thof Squire
Dickens,” this was a common misnomer with Benjamin, “is a nice gentleman, and
as good a man to sail with as heart could wish, yet I shall tell the Squire, d’ye
see, in plain English, and that’s my native tongue, that if-so-be he is
thinking of putting any Johnny-raw over my head, why I shall resign. I began
forrard, Mistress Pretty-bones, and worked my way aft, like a man. I was six
months aboard a Garnsey lugger, hauling in the slack of the lee-sheet, and
coiling up rigging. From that I went a few trips in a fore-and-after, in the
same trade, which after all, was but a blind kind of sailing in the dark, where
a man larns but little, excepting how to steer by the stars. Well! then, d’ye
see, I larnt how a topmast should be slushed, and how a topgallant-sail was to
be becketted; and then I did small jobs in the cabin, such as mixing the
skipper’s grog. ’Twas there I got my taste, which you must have often seen, is
excellent. Well, here’s better acquaintance to us.”
Remarkable nodded a
return to the compliment, and took a sip of the beverage before her; for,
provided it was well sweetened, she had no objection to a small potation now
and then. After this observance of courtesy between the worthy couple, the
dialogue proceeded as follows:
“You have had great
experunces in your life, Benjamin; for, as the scripter says, ‘they that go
down to the sea in ships see the works of the Lord.’ ”
“Ay! for that matter,
they in brigs and schooners too; and it mought say the works of the devil. The
sea, Mistress Remarkable, is a great advantage to a man, in the way of
knowledge, for he sees the fashions of nations, and the shape of a country.
Now, I suppose, for myself here, who is but an unlarned man to some that
follows the seas, I suppose that, taking the coast from Cape Ler-Hogue as low
down as Cape Finish-there, there isn’t so much as a head-land, or an island,
that I don’t know either the name of it, or something more or less about it.
Take enough, woman, to colour the water. Here’s sugar. It’s a sweet tooth, that
fellow that you hold on upon yet, Mistress Pretty-bones. But as I was saying,
take the whole coast along, I know it as well as the way from here to the Bold
Dragoon; and a devil of an acquaintance is that Bay of Biscay. Whew! I wish you
could but hear the wind blow there. It sometimes takes two to hold one man’s
hair on his head. Scudding through the Bay is pretty much the same thing as
travelling the roads in this country, up one side of a mountain, and down the
other.”
“Do tell!” exclaimed
Remarkable; “and does the sea run as high as mountains, Benjamin?”
“Well, I will tell; but
first let’s taste the grog. Hem! its the right kind of stuff, I must say, that
you keeps in this country; but then you’re so close aboard the West-Indees, you
make but a small run of it. By the lord Harry, woman, if Garnsey only lay some
where between Cape Hatteras and the Bite of Logann, but you’d see rum cheap! As
to the seas, they runs more in lippers in the Bay of Biscay, unless it may be
in a sow-wester, when they tumble about quite handsomely; thof its not in the
narrow seas that you are to look for a swell; just go off the Western-Islands,
in a westerly blow, keeping the land on your larboard hand, with the ship’s
head to the south’ard, and bring to, under a close-reef’d topsail; or mayhap a
reef’d foresail. with a foretopmast-staysail; and mizzen-staysail, to keep her
up to the sea, if she will bear it; and lay there for the matter of two
watches, if you want to see mountains. Why, good woman, I’ve been off there in
the Boadishey frigate, when you could see nothing but some such matter as a
piece of sky, mayhap, as big as the mainsail; and then again, there was a hole
under your lee-quarter, big enough to hold the whole British navy.”
“Oh! for massy’s sake!
and wan’t you afeard, Benjamin? and how did you get off?”
“Afeard! who the devil
do you think was to be frightened at a little salt water tumbling about his
head? As for getting off, when we had enough of it, and had washed our decks
down pretty well, we called all hands, for d’ye see, the watch below was in
their hammocks, all the same as if they were in one of your best bed-rooms; and
so we watched for a smooth time; clapt her helm hard a-weather, let fall the
foresail, and got the tack aboard; and so, when we got her afore it, I ask you,
Mistress Pretty-bones, if she did’nt walk? didn’t she! I’m no liar, good woman,
when I say that I saw that ship jump from the top of one sea to another, just
like one of these squirrels, that can fly, jumps from tree to tree.?’
“What, clean out of the
water!” exclaimed Remarkable, lifting her two lank arms, with their bony hands
spread in astonishment.
“It was no such easy
matter to get out of the water, good woman, for the spray flew so that you
could’nt tell which was sea and which was cloud. So there we kept her afore it,
for the matter of two glasses. The First Lieutenant he cun’d the ship himself,
and there was four quarter-masters at the wheel, besides the master, with six
forecastle men in the gun-room, at the relieving tackles. But then she behaved
herself so well! Oh! she was a sweet ship, mistress! That one frigate was well
worth more, to live in, than the best house in the island. If I was King of
England, I’d have her hauled up above Lon’on bridge, and fit her up for a
palace; because why? If any body can afford to live comfortably, his majesty
can.”
“Well! but Benjamin,”
cried his listener, who was in an ecstasy of astonishment, at this relation of
the steward’s dangers, “what did you do?”
“Do! why we did our
duty, like good hearty fellows. Now, if the countrymen of Mounsheer Ler Quaw
had been aboard of her, they would have just struck her ashore on some of them
small islands; but we run along the land until we found her dead to leeward off
the mountains of Pico, and dam’me, if I know to this day how we got there,
whether we jumped over the island, or hauled round it: but there we was, and
there we lay, under easy sail, fore-reaching, first upon one tack and then upon
t’other, so as to poke her nose out now and then, and take a look to wind’ard,
till the gale blow’d its pipe out.”
“I wonder now!”
exclaimed Remarkable, to whom most of the terms used by Benjamin were perfectly
unintelligible, but who had got a confused idea of a raging tempest; “it must
be an awful life, that going to sea! and I don’t feel astonishment that you’re
so affronted with the thoughts of being forced to quit a comfortable home like
this. Not that a body cares much for’t, as there’s more house than one to live
in. Why, when the Judge agreed with me to come and live with him, I’d no more
notion of stopping any time, than any thing. I happened in, just to see how the
family did, about a week after Miss Temple died, thinking to be back home agin
night; but the family was in sitch a distressed way, that I could’nt but stop
awhile and help ’em on. I thought the sitooation a good one, seeing that I was
an unmarried body, and they were so much in want of help; so I tarried.”
“And a long time have
you left your anchors down in the same place, mistress; I think you must find
that the ship rides easy?”
“How you talk,
Benjamin! there’s no believing a word you say. I must say that the Judge and
Squire Jones have both acted quite clever, so long; but I see that now we shall
have a specimen to the contrary. I heer’n say that the Judge was gone a great ’broad,
and that he meant to bring his darter hum, but I did’nt calcoolate on sitch
carrins on. To my notion, Benjamin, she’s likely to turn out a desput ugly
gall.”
“Ugly!” echoed the
Major-domo, opening his eyes, that were beginning to close in a very suspicious
sleepiness, in wide amazement; “by the Lord Harry, woman, I should as soon
think of calling the Boadishey a clumsy frigate. What the devil would you have?
arn’t her eyes as bright as the morning and evening stars! and isn’t her hair
as black and glistening as rigging that has just had a lick of tar! does’nt she
move as stately as a first-rate in smooth water, on a bow-line! Why, woman, the
figure-head of the Boadishey was a fool to her, and that, as I’ve often heard
the captain say, was an image of a great Queen; and arn’t Queens always comely,
woman? for who do you think would be a King, and not choose a handsome
bedfellow?”
“Talk decent, Benjamin,”
said the housekeeper, “or I won’t keep your company. I don’t gainsay her being
comely to look on, but I will maintain that she’s likely to show but poor
conduct. She seems to think herself too good to talk to a poor body. From what
Squire Jones had tell’d me, I some expected to be quite captivated by her
company. Now, to my reckoning, Lowizy Grant is much more pritty behaved than
Betsy Temple. She wouldn’t so much as hold discourse with me, when I wanted to
ask her how she felt, on coming home and missing her mammy.”
“Perhaps she didn’t
understand you, woman; you are none of the best linguister; and then Miss Lizzy
has been exercising the King’s English under a great Lon’on lady, and, for that
matter, can talk the language almost as well as myself, or any native born
British subject. You’ve forgot your schooling, and the young mistress is a
great scollard.”
“Mistress!” cried
Remarkable; “don’t make one out to be a nigger, Benjamin. She’s no mistress of
mine, and never will be. And as to speech, I hold myself as second to nobody
out of New-England. I was born and raised in Essex county; and I’ve always heer’n
say, that the Bay State was provarbal for pronounsation!”
“I’ve often heard of
that Bay of State,” said Benjamin; “but can’t say that I’ve ever been in it,
nor do I know exactly where away it is that it lays; but I suppose that there’s
good anchorage in it, and that it’s no bad place for the taking of ling; but
for size, it can’t be so much as a yawl to a sloop of war, compared with the
bay of Biscay, or mayhap, Tor-bay. And as for language, if you want to hear
dictionary overhauled, like a log-line in a blow, you must go to Wapping, and
listen to the Lon’oners, as they deal out their lingo. Howsomever, I see no
such mighty matter that Miss Lizzy has been doing to you, good woman, so take
another drop of your brew, and forgive and forget, like an honest soul.”
“No, indeed! and I shan’t
do sitch a thing, Benjamin. This treatment is a newity to me, and what I won’t
put up with. I have a hundred and fifty dollars at use, besides a bed and
twenty sheep, to good; and I don’t crave to live in a house where a body mus’nt
call a young woman by her given name to her face. I will call her Betsy as much
as I please; its a free country, and nobody can stop me. I did intend to stop
while summer, but I shall quit to-morrow morning; and I will talk just as I
please.”
“For that matter,
Mistress Remarkable,” said Benjamin, “there’s none here who will contradict
you, for I’m of opinion that it would be as easy to stop a hurricane with a
Barcelony hankerchy, as to bring up your tongue, when the stopper is off. I
say, good woman, do they grow many monkeys along the shores of that Bay of
State?”
“You’re a monkey
yourself, Mr. Penguillum,” cried the enraged housekeeper, “or a bear! a black,
beastly bear! and an’t fit for a decent woman to stay with. I’ll never keep
your company agin, sir, if I should live thirty years with the Judge. Sitch
talk is more befitting the kitchen than the keeping-room of a house of one who
is well to do in the world.”
“Look you, Mistress
Pitty--Patty--Prettybones, mayhap I’m some such matter as a bear, d’ye see, as
they will find who come to grapple with me; but dam’me if I’m a monkey--a thing
that chatters without knowing a word of what it says--a parrot, that will hold
dialogue, for what an honest man knows, in a dozen languages; mayhap in the Bay
of State lingo; mayhap in Greek or High Dutch. But dost it know what it means
itself? canst answer me that, good woman? Your Midshipman can sing out, and
pass the word, when the Captain gives the order, but just set him adrift by
himself, and let him work the ship of his own head, and, stop my grog, if you
don’t find all the Johnny-raws laughing at him.”
“Stop your grog indeed!”
said Remarkable, rising with great indignation, and seizing a candle; “you’re
groggy now, Benjamin, and I’ll quit the room before I hear any of your
misbecoming words from you.”
The housekeeper
retired, with a manner but little less dignified, as she thought, than the air
of the stately heiress, muttering, as she drew the door after her, with a noise
like the report of a musket, the opprobrious terms of “drunkard,” “sot,” and “beast.”
“Who’s that you say is
drunk?” cried Benjamin, fiercely, rising and making a movement towards
Remarkable. “You talk of mustering yourself with a lady! you’re just fit to
grumble and find fault. Where the devil should you larn behaviour and
dictionary? in your damned Bay of State, ha!”
Benjamin here fell back
in his chair, and soon gave vent to certain ominous sounds, which resembled,
not a little, the growling of his favourite animal, the bear itself. Before,
however, he was quite locked, to use the language that would suit the
Della-cruscan humour of certain refined critics of the present day, “in the
arms of Morpheus,” he spoke aloud, observing due pauses between his epithets,
the impressive terms of “monkey,” “parrot,” “pic-nic,” “tar pot,” and “linguisters.”
We will not attempt to
explain his meaning, nor connect his sentences, and our readers must be
satisfied with our informing them, that they were expressed with all that
coolness of contempt that a man might well be supposed to feel for a monkey.
Nearly two hours passed
in this sleep, before the Major-domo was awakened by the noisy entrance of
Richard, Major Hartmann, and the master of the mansion. Benjamin so far rallied
his confused faculties, as to shape the course of the two former to their
respective apartments, when he disappeared himself, leaving the task of
securing the house to him who was most interested in its safety. Locks and bars
were but little attended to in the early day of that settlement; and so soon as
Marmaduke had given an eye to the enormous fires of his dwelling, he retired.
And with this act of prudence closes the first night of our tale.
Watch. (aside) Some treason, masters-- Yet
stand close.
Much Ado about Nothing
It was fortunate for
more than one of the bacchanalians, who left the “Bold Dragoon” late in the
evening, that the severe cold of the season was becoming, rapidly, less
dangerous, as they threaded the different mazes, through the snowbanks, that
led to their respective dwellings. Thin, driving clouds began, towards morning,
to flit across the heavens, and the moon sat behind a volume of vapour, that
was impelled furiously towards the north, carrying with it the softer
atmosphere from the distant ocean. The rising sun was obscured by denser and
increasing columns of clouds, while the southerly wind that rushed up the
valley, brought the never failing symptoms of a thaw.
It was quite late in
the morning, before Elizabeth, observing the faint glow which appeared on the
eastern mountain, long after the light of the sun had struck the opposite
hills, ventured from the house, with a view to gratify her curiosity with a
glance by daylight at the surrounding objects, before the tardy revellers of
the Christmas-eve should make their appearance at the breakfast table. While
she was drawing the folds of her pelisse more closely around her form, to guard
against a cold that was yet great, though rapidly yielding, in the small
enclosure that opened in the rear of the house on a little thicket of low
pines, that were springing up where trees of a mightier growth had lately
stood, she was surprised at the voice of Mr. Jones, crying aloud--
“Merry Christmas, merry
Christmas to you, cousin Bess. Ah, ha! an early riser, I see; but I knew I
should steal a march on you. I never was in a house yet, where I did’nt get the
first Christmas greeting on every soul in it, man, woman and child; great and
small; black, white and yellow. But stop a minute, till I can just slip on my
coat; you are about to look at the improvements, I see, which no one can
explain so well as I, who planned them all. It will be an hour before ’duke and
the Major can sleep off Mrs. Hollister’s confounded distillations, and so I’ll
come down and go with you.”
Elizabeth turned, and
observed her cousin in his night-cap, with his head out of his bed-room window,
where his zeal for pre-eminence, in defiance of the weather, had impelled him
to thrust it. She laughed, and promising to wait for his company, she
re-entered the house, making her appearance again, holding in her hand a packet
that was secured by several large and important seals, just in time to meet the
gentleman.
“Come, Bessy, come,” he
cried, drawing one of her arms through his own; “the snow begins to give, but
it will bear us yet. Don’t you snuff old Pennsylvania in the very air? This is
a vile climate, girl; now at sunset last evening it was cold enough to freeze a
man’s zeal, and that, I can tell you, takes a thermometer near zero for me;
then about nine or ten it began to moderate; at twelve it was quite mild, and
here all the rest of the night I have been so hot as not to bear a blanket on
the bed.--Holla! Aggy,--merry Christmas, Aggy--I say, do you hear me, you black
dog! there’s a dollar for you; and if the gentlemen get up before I come back,
do you come out and let me know. I would’nt have ’duke get the start of me for
the worth of your head.”
The black caught the
money from the snow, and promising a due degree of watchfulness, he gave the
dollar a whirl in the air of twenty feet, and catching it as it fell, in the
palm of his hand, he withdrew to the kitchen, to exhibit his present, with a
heart as light as his face was happy in its expression.
“Oh, rest easy, my dear
coz,” said the young lady; “I took a look in at my father, who is likely to
sleep an hour; and by using due vigilance you will secure all the honours of
the season.”
“Why, ’duke is your
father, Elizabeth, but ’duke is a man who likes to be foremost, even in
trifles. Now, as for myself, I care for no such things, except in the way of
competition; for a thing which is of no moment in itself, may be made of
importance in the way of competition. So it is with your father, he loves to be
first; but I only struggle with him as a competitor, like.”
“Oh! it’s all very
clear, sir,” said Elizabeth; “you would not care a fig for distinction, if
there were no one in the world but yourself; but as there happen to be a great
many others, why you must struggle with them all--in the way of competition.”
“Exactly so; I see you
are a clever girl, Bess, and one who does credit to her masters. It was my plan
to send you to that school; for when your father first mentioned the thing, I
wrote a private letter for advice to a judicious friend in the city, who
recommended the very school you went to. ’Duke was a little obstinate at first,
as usual, but when he heard the truth, he was obliged to send you.”
“Well, a truce to ’duke’s
foibles, sir; he is my father; and if you knew what he has been doing for you
while we were in Albany, you would deal more tenderly with his character.”
“For me!” cried
Richard, pausing a moment in his walk to reflect. “Oh! he got the plans of the
new Dutch meeting-house for me, I suppose; but I care very little about it, for
a man, of a certain kind of talent, is seldom aided by any such foreign
suggestions: his own brain is the best architect.”
“No such think,” said
Elizabeth, looking provokingly knowing.
“No! let me
see--perhaps he had my name put in the bill for the new turnpike, as a
director?”
“He might possibly; but
it is not to such an appointment that I allude.”
“Such an appointment!”
repeated Mr. Jones, who began to fidget with curiosity; “then it is an
appointment. If it is in the militia, I won’t take it.”
“No, no, it is not in
the militia,” cried Elizabeth, showing the packet in her hand, and then drawing
it back, with a coquettish air; “it is an office of both honour and emolument.”
“Honour and emolument!”
echoed Richard, in painful suspense; “show me the paper, girl. Say, is it an
office where there is any thing to do?”
“You have hit it,
cousin Dickon; it is the executive office of the county; at least so said my
father, when he gave me this packet to offer you as a Christmas box--‘Surely,
if any thing will please Dickon,’ he said, ‘it will be to fill the executive
chair of the county.’ ”
“Executive chair! what
nonsense!” cried the impatient gentleman, snatching the packet from her hand; “there
is no such office in the county. Eh! what! it is, I declare, a commission,
appointing Richard Jones, Esquire, Sheriff of the county. Well, this is kind in
’duke, positively. I must say ’duke has a warm heart, and never forgets his
friends. Sheriff! High Sheriff of --! It sounds well, Bess, but it shall execute
better. ’Duke is a judicious man, after all, and knows human nature thoroughly.
I’m sure I’m much obliged to him,” continued Richard, using the skirt of his
coat, unconsciously, to wipe his eyes; “though I would do as much for him any
day, as he shall see, if I can have an opportunity to perform any of the duties
of my office on him. It shall be well done, cousin Bess--it shall be well done,
I say.--How this cursed south wind makes my eyes water.”
“Now, Richard,” said
the laughing maiden, “now I think you will find something to do. I have often
heard you complain of old, that there was nothing to do in this new country,
while to my eyes, it seemed as if every thing remained to be done.”
“Do!” echoed Richard,
who blew his nose, raised his little form to its greatest elevation, and looked
prodigiously serious. “Every thing depends on system, my girl. I shall sit down
this afternoon, and systematize the county. I must have deputies, you know. I
will divide the county into districts, over which I will place my deputies; and
I will have one for the village, which I will call my home department. Let me
see-- eh! Benjamin! yes, Benjamin will make a good deputy; he has been
naturalized, and would answer admirably, if he could only ride on horse-back.”
“Yes, Mr. Sheriff,”
said his companion, “and as he understands ropes so well, he would be very
expert, should occasion happen for his services, in the way of Jack Ketch.”
“No,” interrupted the
other, “I flatter myself that no one could hang a man better than--that is--ha--oh!
yes, Benjamin would do extremely well, in such an unfortunate dilemma, if he
could be persuaded to attempt it. But I should despair of the thing. I never
could induce him to hang, or teach him to ride on horseback. I must seek
another deputy.”
“Well, sir, as you have
abundant leisure for all these important affairs, I beg that you will forget
that you are the High Sheriff, and devote some little of your time to
gallantry. Where are the beauties and improvements which you were to show me?”
“Where! why every
where. Here I have laid out some new streets; and when they are opened, and the
trees felled, and they are all built up, will they not make a fine town? Well, ’duke
is a liberal-hearted fellow, with all his stubbornness. --Yes, yes, I must have
at least four deputies, besides a jailer.”
“I see no streets in
the direction of our walk,” said Elizabeth, “unless you call the short avenues
through these pine bushes by that name.-- Surely you do not contemplate
building houses, very soon, in that forest before us, and in those swamps.”
“We must run our
streets by the compass, coz, and disregard trees, hills, ponds, stumps, or, in
fact, any thing but posterity. Such is the will of your father, and your
father, you know--”
“Had you made Sheriff,
Mr. Jones,” interrupted the lady, with a tone which said very plainly to the
gentleman, that he was touching a forbidden subject.
“I know it, I know it,”
cried Richard; “and if it were in my power, I’d make ’duke a king. He is a
noble-hearted fellow, and would make an excellent king; that is, if he had a
good prime minister.--But who have we here? voices in the bushes;--a
combination about mischief, I’ll wager my commission. Let us draw near, and
examine a little into the matter.”
During this dialogue,
as the parties had kept in motion, Richard and his cousin advanced some
distance from the house, into the open space in the rear of the village, where,
as may be gathered from the conversation, streets were planned, and future
dwellings contemplated; but where, in truth, the only mark of improvement that
was to be seen, was a neglected clearing along the skirt of a dark forest of
mighty pines, over which the bushes or sprouts of the same tree had sprung up,
to a height that interspersed the fields of snow with little thickets of
evergreen. The rushing of the wind, as it whistled through the tops of these
mimic trees, prevented the footsteps of the pair from being heard, while their
branches concealed their persons. Thus aided, the listeners drew nigh to a spot
where the young hunter, Leather-stocking, and the Indian chief, were collected
in an earnest consultation. The former was urgent in his manner, and seemed to
think the subject of deep importance, while Natty appeared to listen with more
than his usual attention, to what the other was saying. Mohegan stood a little
on one side, with his head sunken on his chest, his hair falling forward, so as
to conceal most of his features, and his whole attitude expressive of deep
dejection, if not of shame.
“Let us withdraw,”
whispered Elizabeth; “we are intruders, and can have no right to listen to the
secrets of these men.”
“No right!” returned
Richard, a little impatiently, in the same tone, and drawing her arm so
forcibly through his own as to prevent her retreat; “you forget, cousin, that
it is my duty to preserve the peace of the county, and see the laws executed.
These wanderers frequently commit depredations; though I do not think John
would do any thing secretly. Poor fellow! he was quite boozy last night, and hardly
seems to be over it yet. Let us draw nigher, and hear what they say.”
Notwithstanding the
lady’s reluctance, Richard, stimulated doubtless by his nice sense of duty,
prevailed; and they were soon so near as distinctly to hear sounds.
“The bird must be had,”
said Natty, “by fair means or foul. Heigho! I’ve known the time, lad, when the
wild turkeys wasn’t over scarce in the country; though you must go into the
Virginy gaps, if you want them for the feathers. To be sure, there is a
different taste to a partridge, and a well-fattened turkey; though, to my
eating, beaver’s tail and bear’s hams makes the best of food. But then every
one has his own appetite. I gave the last farthing, all to that shilling, to
the French trader, this very morning, as I come through the town, for powder;
so, as you have nothing, we can have but one shot for it. I know that Billy
Kirby is out, and means to have a pull of the trigger at that very turkey. John
has a true eye for a single fire, and somehow, my hand shakes so, whenever I
have to do any thing extrawnary, that I often lose my aim. Now when I killed
the she-bear this fall, with her cubs, though they were so mighty ravenous, I
knocked them over one at a shot, and loaded while I dodged the trees in the
bargain; but this is a very different thing, Mr. Oliver.”
“This,” cried the young
man, with an accent that sounded as if he took a bitter pleasure in his
poverty, while he held a shilling up before his eyes--“this is all the treasure
that I possess-- this and my rifle! Now, indeed, I have become a man of the
woods, and must place my sole dependence on the fruits of the chase. Come,
Natty, let us stake the last penny for the bird; with your aim, it cannot fail
to be successful.”
“I would rather it
should be John, lad; my heart jumps into my mouth, because you set your mind so
much on’t; and I’m sartain that I shall miss the bird. Them Indians can shoot
one time as well as another; nothing ever troubles them. I say John, here’s a
shilling; take my rifle, and get a shot at the big turkey they’ve put up at the
stump. Mr. Oliver is over anxious for the creater, and I’m sure to do nothing
when I have over anxiety about it.”
The Indian turned his
head gloomily, and after looking keenly for a moment, in profound silence, at
his companions, he replied--
“When John was young,
eyesight was not straighter than his bullet. The Mingo squaws cried out at the
sound of his rifle. The Mingo warriors were made squaws. When did he ever shoot
twice! The eagle went above the clouds, when he passed the wigwam of
Chingachgook; his feathers were plenty with the women.-- But see,” he said,
raising his voice from the low, mournful tones in which he had spoken, to a
pitch of keen excitement, and stretching forth both hands--“they shake like a
deer at the wolf’s howl. Is John old? When was a Mohican a squaw, with seventy
winters! No! the white man brings old age with him--rum is his tomahawk!”
“Why then do you use
it, old man?” exclaimed the young hunter; “why will one so noble by nature, aid
the devices of the devil, by making himself a beast?”
“Beast! is John a
beast?” repeated the Indian, slowly; “yes; you say no lie, child of the
Fire-eater! John is a beast. The smokes were once few in these hills. The deer
would lick the hand of a white man, and the birds rest on his head. They were
strangers to him. My fathers came from the shores of the salt lake. They fled
before rum. They came to their grandfather, and they lived in peace; or when
they did raise the hatchet, it was to strike it into the brain of a Mingo. They
gathered around the council-fire, and what they said was done. Then John was a
man. But warriors and traders with light eyes followed them. One brought the
long knife, and one brought rum. They were more than the pines on the
mountains; and they broke up the councils, and took the lands. The evil spirit
was in their jugs, and they let him loose.--Yes, yes-- you say no lie, Young
Eagle, John is a beast.”
“Forgive me, old
warrior,” cried the youth, grasping his hand; “I should be the last to reproach
you. The curses of Heaven light on the cupidity that has destroyed such a race.
Remember, John, that I am of your family, and it is now my greatest pride.”
The muscles of Mohegan
relaxed a little, and he said more mildly--
“You are a Delaware, my
son; your words are not heard.--John cannot shoot.”
“I thought that lad had
Indian blood in him,” whispered Richard, “by the awkward way he handled my
horses, last night. You see, coz, they never use harness. But the poor fellow
shall have two shots at the turkey, if he wants it, for I’ll give him another
shilling myself; though, perhaps, I had better offer to shoot for him. They
have got up their Christmas sports, I find, in the bushes yonder, where you
hear the laughter;-- though it is a queer taste this chap has for turkey; not
but what it is good eating too.”
“Hold, cousin Richard,”
exclaimed Elizabeth, clinging to his arm, “would it be delicate to offer a
shilling to that gentleman?”
“Gentleman again! do
you think a half-breed, like him, will refuse money? No, no, girl; he will take
the shilling; ay! and even rum too, notwithstanding he moralizes so much about
it.-- But I’ll give the lad a chance for his turkey, for that Billy Kirby is
one of the best marksmen in the country; that is, if we except the--the
gentleman.”
“Then,” said Elizabeth,
who found her strength unequal to her will; “then, sir, I will speak.”-- She
advanced, with an air of proud determination, in front of her cousin, and
entered the little circle of bushes that surrounded the trio of hunters. Her
appearance startled the youth, who at first made an unequivocal motion towards
retiring, but, recollecting himself, bowed, by lifting his cap, and resumed his
attitude of leaning on his rifle. Neither Natty nor Mohegan betrayed any
emotion, though the appearance of Elizabeth was so entirely unexpected.
“I find,” she said, “that
the old Christmas sport of shooting the turkey is yet in use among you. I feel
inclined to try my chance for a bird. Which of you will take this money, and,
after paying my fee, give me the aid of his rifle?”
“Is this a sport for a
lady!” exclaimed the young hunter, with an emphasis that could not well be
mistaken, and with a rapidity that showed he spoke without consulting any thing
but feeling.
“Why not, sir?”
returned the maiden. “If it be inhuman, the sin is not confined to one sex
only. But I have my humour as well as others. I ask not your assistance, sir;
but”--turning to Natty, and dropping a dollar in his hand--“this old veteran of
the forest will not be so ungallant, as to refuse one fire for a lady.”
Leather-stocking
dropped the money into his pouch, and throwing up the end of his rifle, he
freshened his priming; and, first laughing in his usual manner, he threw the
piece over his shoulder, and said--
“If Billy Kirby don’t
get the bird before me, and the Frenchman’s powder don’t hang fire this damp
morning, you’ll see as fine a turkey dead, in a few minutes, as ever was eaten
in the Judge’s shanty. I have know’d the Dutch women on the Mohawk and Scoharie
count greatly on coming to them merry-makings; and so, lad, you shouldn’t be
short with the lady. Come, let us go forward, for if we wait, the finest bird
will be gone.”
“But I have a right
before you, Natty, and shall try my own luck first. You will excuse me, Miss
Temple; I have much reason to wish that bird, and may seem ungallant, but I
must claim my privileges.”
“Claim any thing that
is justly your own, sir,” returned the lady; “we are both adventurers, and this
is my knight. I trust my fortune to his hand and eye. Lead on, Sir
Leather-stocking, and we will follow.”
Natty, who seemed
pleased with the frank address of the young and beauteous maiden, who had so
singularly intrusted him with such a commission, returned the bright smile with
which she had addressed him, by his own peculiar mark of mirth, and moved
across the snow, towards the spot whence the sounds of boisterous mirth
proceeded with the long strides of a hunter. His companions followed in
silence, the youth casting frequent and uneasy glances towards Elizabeth, who
was detained by a motion from Richard.
“I should think, Miss
Temple,” he said, so soon as the others were out of hearing, “that if you
really wished a turkey, you would not have taken a stranger for the office, and
such a one as Leather-stocking. But I can hardly believe that you are serious,
for I have fifty at this moment shut up in the coops, in every stage of fat, so
that you might choose any quality you pleased. There are six that I am trying
an experiment on, by giving them brick-bats with--”
“Enough, cousin Dickon,”
interrupted the lady; “I do wish the bird, and it is because I so wish, that I
commissioned this Mr. Leather-stocking.”
“Did you ever hear of
the great shot that I made at the wolf, cousin Elizabeth, who was carrying off
your father’s sheep?” said Richard, drawing himself up into an air of
displeasure.-- “He had the sheep on his back; and had the head of the wolf been
on the other side, I should have killed him dead; as it was--”
“You killed the sheep,”
again interrupted the young lady--“I know it all, my dear coz. But would it
have been decorous, for the High Sheriff of--to mingle in such sports as these?”
“Surely you did not
think I intended actually to fire with my own hands?” said Mr. Jones.-- “But
let us follow, and see the shooting. There is no fear of any thing unpleasant
occuring to any female, in this new country, especially to your father’s
daughter, and in my presence.”
“My father’s daughter
fears nothing, sir,” returned Elizabeth; more especially, when escorted by the
highest executive officer in the county.”
She took his arm, and
he led her through the mazes of the bushes, to the spot where most of the young
men of the village were collected for the sports of shooting a Christmas match,
and whither Natty and his companions had already preceded them.
“I guess, by all this
quaint array,
“The burghers hold
their sports to day.”
Scott
The ancient amusement
of shooting the Christmas turkey, is one of the few sports that the settlers of
a new country seldom or never neglect to observe. It was connected with the
daily practices of a people, who often laid aside the axe or the sithe, to
seize the rifle, as the deer glided through the forests they were felling, or
the bear entered their rough meadows, to scent the air of a clearing, and to
scan, with a look of sagacity, the progress of the invader.
On the present
occasion, the usual amusement of the day had been a little hastened, in order
to allow a fair opportunity to Mr. Grant, whose exhibition was not less a treat
to the young sportsmen, than the one which engaged their present attention. The
owner of the birds was a free black, who had been preparing for the occasion a
collection of game, that was admirably qualified to inflame the appetite of an
epicure, and was well adapted to the means and skill of the different
competitors, who were of all ages. He had offered to the younger and more
humble marksmen divers birds of an inferior quality, and some shooting had
already taken place, much to the pecuniary advantage of the sable owner of the
game. The order of the sports was extremely simple, and well understood. The
bird was fastened by a string of tow, to the base of the stump of a large pine,
the side of which, towards the point where the marksmen were placed, had been
flattened with an axe, in order that it might serve the purpose of a target, by
which the merit of each individual might be ascertained. The distance between
the stump and this point was one hundred measured yards; a foot more or a foot
less being thought an invasion of the right of one of the parties. The negro
affixed his own price to every bird, and the terms of the chance; but when
these were once established, he was obliged, by the strict principles of public
justice that prevailed in the country, to admit any adventurer who might offer.
The throng consisted of
some twenty or thirty young men, most of whom had rifles, and a collection of
all the boys in the village. The little urchins, clad in coarse but warm
garments, stood gathered around the more distinguished marksmen, with their
hands stuck under their waistbands, listening eagerly to the boastful stories
of skill that had been exhibited on former occasions, and were already
emulating in their hearts these wonderful deeds in gunnery.
The chief speaker was
the man who had been mentioned by Natty, as Billy Kirby. This fellow, whose
occupation, when he did labour, was that of clearing lands, or chopping jobs,
was of great stature, and carried, in his very air, the index of his character.
He was a noisy, boisterous, reckless lad, whose good-natured eye contradicted
the bluntness and bullying tenor of his speech. For weeks he would lounge
around the taverns of the country, in a state of perfect idleness, or doing
small jobs for his liquor and his meals, and cavilling with applicants about
the prices of his labour; frequently preferring idleness to an abatement of a
tittle of his independence, or a cent in his wages. But when these embarrassing
points were once satisfactorily arranged, he would shoulder his axe and his
rifle, slip his arms through the straps of his pack, and enter the woods with
the tread of a Hercules. His first object was to learn his limits, round which
he would pace, occasionally freshening, with a blow of his axe, the marks on
the boundary trees; and then he would proceed, with an air of great
deliberation, to the centre of his premises, and throwing aside his superfluous
garments, he would measure, with a knowing eye, one or two of the nearest
trees, that were towering apparently into the very clouds, as he gazed upward.
Commonly selecting one of the most noble, for the first trial of his power, he
would approach it with a listless air, whistling a low tune; and wielding his
axe, with a certain flourish not unlike the salutes of a fencing-master, he
would strike a light blow into the bark, and measure his distance. The pause
that followed was ominous of the fall of the forest, that had flourished there
for centuries. The heavy and brisk blows that he struck, were soon succeeded by
the thundering report of the tree, as it came, first cracking and threatening,
with the separation of its own last ligaments; then thrashing and tearing with
its branches the tops of its surrounding brethren, and finally meeting the
ground, with a shock but little inferior to an earthquake. From that moment,
the sounds of the axe would be ceaseless, while the falling of the trees was
like a distant cannonading; and the daylight broke into the depths of the
woods, with almost the suddenness of a winter morning.
For days, weeks, nay
months, Billy Kirby would toil, with an ardour that evinced his native spirit,
and with an effect that seemed magical; until, his chopping being ended, his
stentorian lungs could be heard, emitting sounds, as he called to his patient
oxen, the assistants in his labour, which rung through the hills like the cries
of an alarm. He had been often heard, on a mild summer’s evening, a long mile
across the vale of Templeton; when the echoes from the mountains would take up
his cries, until they died away in feeble sounds, from the distant rocks that
overhung the lake. His piles, or, to use the language of the country, his
logging, ended with a despatch that could only accompany his dexterity and
Herculean strength, the jobber would collect together his implements of labour,
light the heaps of timber, and march away, under the blaze of the prostrate
forest, like the conqueror of some city, who, having first prevailed over his
adversary, places the final torch of destruction, as the finishing blow to his
conquest. For a long time Billy Kirby would then be seen, sauntering around the
taverns, the rider of scrub-races, the bully of cock-fights, and, not
unfrequently, the hero of such sports as the one in hand.
Between him and the
Leather-stocking there had long existed a jealous rivalry, on the point of
their respective skill in shooting. Notwithstanding the long practice of Natty,
it was commonly supposed that the steady nerves and quick eye of the
wood-chopper, rendered him his equal. Their competition had, however, been confined,
hitherto, to boastings, and comparisons made from their successes in their
various hunting excursions; but this was the first time that they had ever come
in upon collision. A good deal of higgling, about the price of a shot at the
choicest bird, had taken place between Billy Kirby and its owner, before Natty
and his companions rejoined the sportsmen. It had, however, been settled at one
shilling a shot, which was the highest sum ever exacted, the black taking care
to protect himself from losses, as much as possible, by the conditions of the
sport. The turkey was already fastened at the “mark,” but its body was entirely
hid by the surrounding snow, nothing being visible but its red, swelling head,
and long, proud neck. If the bird was injured by any bullet that struck below
the snow, it was still to continue the property of its present owner; but if a
feather was touched in the visible part, the animal became the prize of the
successful adventurer.
These terms were loudly
proclaimed from the mouth of the negro, who was seated in the snow, in a
somewhat hazardous vicinity to his favourite bird, as Elizabeth, and her
cousin, the newly appointed executive chief of the county, approached the noisy
sportsmen. The sounds of mirth and contention sensibly lowered at this
unexpected visit, but after a moment’s pause, the curious interest exhibited in
the face of the young lady, together with her smiling air, restored the freedom
of the morning; though it was somewhat chastened, both in language and
vehemence, by the presence of such a spectator to their proceedings.
“Stand out of the way
there, boys!” cried the wood-chopper, who was placing himself at the
shooting-point--“stand out of the way, you little rascals, or I will shoot
through you. Now, Brom, you may say good-by to that turkey.”
“Stop!” cried the young
hunter; “I am a candidate for a chance too. Here is my shilling, Brom; I wish a
shot too.”
“You may wish it in
welcome,” cried Kirby; “but if I ruffle the gobbler’s feathers, how are you to
get it? is money so plenty in your deer-skin pocket, that you pay it for a
chance that you may never have?”
“How know you, sir, how
plenty money is in my pocket?” said the youth, fiercely. “Here is my shilling,
Brom, and I claim a right to shoot.”
“Don’t be crabbed, my
boy,” said the other, who was very coolly fixing his flint. “They say you have
a hole in your left shoulder, yourself; so I think Brom may give you a fire for
half-price. It will take a keen one to hit that bird, I can tell you, my lad,
even if I give you a chance, which is a thing I have no mind to do.”
“Don’t be boasting,
Billy Kirby,” said Natty, throwing the breech of his rifle into the snow, and
leaning on its barrel; you’ll get but one shot at the creater, for if the lad
misses his aim, which wouldn’t be a wonder if he did, with his arm so stiff and
sore, you’ll find a good piece and an old eye comin a’ter you. Maybe its true,
that I can’t shoot as I used to could, but a hundred yards is but a short
distance for a long rifle.”
“What, old Leather-stocking,
are you out this morning?” cried his reckless opponent. “Well, fair play’s a
jewel. But I’ve the lead of you, old fellow; and so here goes, for a dry throat
or a good dinner.”
The countenance of the
negro evinced not only all the interest which his pecuniary adventure might
occasion, but also the keen excitement that the sport produced in the others,
though with a very different wish as to the result. While the wood-chopper was
slowly and steadily raising his rifle, he exclaimed--
“Fair play, Billy
Kirby--stand back--make ’em stand back, boys--gib a nigger fair play-- poss-up,
gobbler; shake a head, fool; don’t a see ’em pokin gun at ’em?”
These cries, which were
intended as much to distract the attention of the marksman, as for any thing
else, where, however, fruitless. The nerves of the wood-chopper were not so
easily shaken, and he took his aim with the utmost deliberation. The dead
stillness of expectation prevailed for a moment, and he fired. The head of the
turkey was seen to dash on one side, and its wings were spread in momentary
fluttering; but it settled itself down, calmly, into its bed of snow, and
glanced its eyes uneasily around. For a time long enough to draw a deep breath,
not a sound was heard. The silence was then broken, by the noise of the negro,
who laughed, and shook his body, with all kinds of antics, rolling over in the
snow with the excess of his delight.
“Well done a gobbler,”
he cried, jumping up, and affecting to embrace his bird; “I tell ’em to
poss-up, and you see ’em dodge. Gib anoder shillin, Billy, and hab anoder shot.”
“No--the shot is mine,”
said the young hunter; “you have my money already. Leave the mark, and let me
try my luck.”
“Ah! it’s but money
thrown away, lad,” said Leather-stocking. “A turkey’s head and neck is but a
small mark for a new hand and a lame shoulder. You’d best let me take the fire,
and maybe we can make some sittlement with the lady about the bird.”
“The chance is mine,”
said the young hunter. “Clear the ground, that I may take it.”
The discussions and
disputes concerning the last shot were now abating, it having been determined,
that if the turkey’s head had been any where but just where it was at the
moment, the bird must certainly have been killed. There was not much excitement
produced by the preparations of the youth, who proceeded in a hurried manner to
take his aim, and was in the act of pulling the trigger, when he was stopped by
Natty.
“Your hand shakes, lad,”
he said, “and you seem over eager. Bullet wownds are apt to weaken the flesh,
and, to my judgment, you’ll not shoot so well as in common. If you will fire,
you should shoot quick, before there is time to shake off the aim.”
“Fair play,” again
shouted the negro; “fair play--gib a nigger fair play. What right a Nat-Bumppo
tell a young man? Let ’em shoot-- clear a ground.”
The youth fired with
great rapidity; but no motion was made by the turkey; and when the examiners
for the ball returned from the “mark,” they declared that he had missed the
stump.
Elizabeth observed the
change in his countenance, and could not help feeling surprise, that one so
evidently superior to his companions, should feel a trifling loss so sensibly.
But her own champion was now preparing to enter the lists.
The mirth of Brom,
which had been again excited, though in a much smaller degree than before, by
the failure of the second adventurer, vanished, the instant that Natty took his
stand. His skin became mottled with large brown spots, that sullied the lustre
of his native ebony most fearfully, while his enormous lips gradually
compressed around the two rows of ivory, that had hitherto been shining in his
visage, like pearls set in jet. His nostrils, at all times the most conspicuous
features of his face, dilated, until they covered the greater part of the
diameter of his countenance; while his brown and bony hands unconsciously
grasped the snow-crust near him, the excitement of the moment completely
overcoming his native dread of cold.
While these indications
of apprehension were exhibited in the sable owner of the turkey, the man who
gave rise to this extraordinary emotion was as calm and collected, as if there
was not to be a single spectator of his skill.
“I was down in the
Dutch settlements on the Scoharie,” said Natty, carefully removing the leather
guard from the lock of his rifle, “jist before the breaking out of the last
war, and there was a shooting-match amongst the boys; so I took a hand in it
myself. I think I opened a good many Dutch eyes that very day, for I won the
powder-horn, three bars of lead, and a pound of as good powder as ever flashed
in the pan of a gun. Lord! how they did swear in Garman! They did tell of one
drunken Dutchman, who said he’d have the life of me, before I got back to the
lake ag’in. But if he had put his rifle to his shoulder, with evil intent, God
would have punished him for it; and even if the Lord didn’t, and he had missed
his aim, I know one that would have given him as good as he sent, and better
too, if good shooting could come into the ’count.”
By this time the old
hunter was ready for his business, and, throwing his right leg far behind him,
and stretching his left arm along the barrel of his piece, he raised towards
the bird. Every eye glanced rapidly from the marksman to the mark; but at the
moment when each ear was expecting the report of the rifle, they were
disappointed by the ticking sound of the flint only.
“A snap--a snap,”
shouted the negro, springing from his crouching posture, like a madman, before
his bird. “A snap as good as a fire--Natty Bumppo gun he snap--Natty Bumppo
miss a turkey.”
“Natty Bumppo hit a
nigger,” said the indignant old hunter, “if you don’t get out of the way, Brom.
It’s contrary to the reason of the thing, boy, that a snap should count for a
fire, when one is nothing more than a fire-stone striking a steel pan, and the
other is good lead, ay! and with a good aim; so get out of my way, boy, and let
me show Billy Kirby how to shoot a Christmas turkey.”
“Gib a nigger fair
play!” cried the black, who continued resolutely to maintain his post. “Ebbery
body know dat snap as good as fire. Leab it to Massa Jone--leab it to lady.”
“Sartain,” said the
wood-chopper; “it’s the law of the game in this part of the country,
Leather-stocking. If you fire ag’in, you must pay up the other shilling. I b’lieve
I’ll try luck once more myself; so, Brom, here’s my money, and I take the next
fire.”
“It’s likely you know
the laws of the woods better than I do, Billy Kirby!” returned Natty. “You come
in with the settlers, with an ox goad in your hand, and I come in with
moccasins on my feet, and with a good rifle on my shoulder, so long back as
afore the old war; which is likely to know the best? I say, no man need tell me
that snapping is as good as firing, when I pull the trigger.”
“Leab it to Massa Jone,”
said the alarmed negro; “he know ebbery ting.”
This appeal to the
knowledge of Richard was too flattering to be unheeded. He therefore advanced a
little from the spot whither the delicacy of Elizabeth had induced her to
withdraw, and gave the following opinion, with all the gravity that the subject
and his own rank demanded:--
“There seems to be a
difference in opinion,” he said, “on the subject of Nathaniel Bumppo’s right to
shoot at Abraham Freeborn’s turkey, without the said Nathaniel paying one
shilling for the privilege.” This fact was too self-evident to be denied, and
after pausing a moment, that the audience might digest his premises, Richard
proceeded:--“It seems proper that I should decide this question, as I am bound
to preserve the peace of the county; and men with deadly weapons in their
hands, should not be heedlessly left to contention, and their own malignant
passions. It appears that there was no agreement, either in writing or in
words, on the disputed point; therefore we must reason from analogy, which is,
as it were, comparing one thing with another. Now, in duels, where both parties
shoot, it is generally the rule that a snap is a fire; and if such is the rule,
where the party has a right to fire back again, it seems to me unreasonable, to
say that a man may stand snapping at that turkey all day. I therefore am of
opinion, that Nathaniel Bumppo has lost his chance, and must pay another
shilling before he renews his right.”
As this opinion came
from such a high quarter, and was delivered with so much effect, it silenced
all murmurs, for the whole of the spectators had begun to take sides with great
warmth, except from the Leather-stocking himself.
“I think Miss Elizabeth’s
thoughts should be taken,” said Natty. “I’ve known the squaws give very good
counsel, when the Indians have been dumb-foundered in their notions. If she
says that I ought to lose, I agree to give it up.”
“Then I adjudge you to
be a loser, for this time,” said Miss Temple; “but pay your money, and renew
your chance; unless Brom will sell me the bird for a dollar. I will give him
the money, and save the life of the poor victim”
This proposition was
evidently but little relished by any of the listeners, even the negro feeling
unwilling to lose the sport, though he lost his turkey. In the mean while, as
Billy Kirby was preparing himself for another shot, Natty left the goal, with
an extremely dissatisfied manner, muttering to himself, and speaking aloud--
“There hasn’t been such
a thing as a good flint sold at the foot of the lake, since the time when the
Indian traders used to come into the country; --and if a body should go into
the flats along the streams in the hills, to hunt for such a thing, it’s ten to
one but they be all covered up with the plough. Heigho! it seems to me, that
just as the game grows scarce, and a body wants the best of ammunition, to get
a livelihood, every thing that’s bad falls on him, like a judgment. But I’ll
change the stone, for Billy Kirby hasn’t the eye for such a mark, I know.”
The wood-chopper seemed
now entirely sensible that his reputation in a great manner depended on his
care; nor did he neglect any means to ensure his success. He drew up his rifle,
and renewed his aim, again and again, still appearing reluctant to fire. No
sound was heard from even Brom, during these portentous movements, until Kirby
discharged his piece, with the same want of success as before. Then, indeed,
the shouts of the negro rung through the bushes, and sounded among the trees of
the neighbouring forest, like the outcries of a tribe of Indians. He laughed,
rolling his head, first on one side, then on the other, until nature seemed
exhausted with mirth. He danced, until his legs were wearied with motion, in
the snow; and, in short, he exhibited all that violence of joy that
characterizes the mirth of a thoughtless negro.
The wood-chopper had
exerted all his art, and felt a proportionate degree of disappointment at his
failure. He first examined the bird with the utmost attention, and more than
once suggested that he had touched its feathers; but the voice of the multitude
was against him, for it felt disposed to listen to the often repeated cries of
the black, to “gib a nigger fair play.”
Finding it impossible
to make out a title to the bird, Kirby turned fiercely to the black, and said--
“Shut your oven, you
crow! Where is the man that can hit a turkey’s head at a hundred yards? I was a
fool for trying. You needn’t make an uproar, like a falling pine tree, about
it. Show me the man who can do it.”
“Look this a-way, Billy
Kirby,” said Leather-stocking, “and let them clear the mark, and I’ll show you
a man who’s made better shots afore now, and that when he’s been hard pressed
by the savages and wild beasts.”
“Perhaps there is one
whose rights come before ours, Leather-stocking.” said Miss Temple; “if so, we
will waive our privilege.”
“If it be me that you
have reference to, madam,” said the young hunter, “I shell decline another
chance. My shoulder is yet weak, I find.”
Elizabeth regarded his
proud, but forced manner, and even thought that she could discern a tinge on
his cheek, that spoke the shame of conscious poverty. She said no more, but
suffered her own champion to make a trial.
Although Natty Bumppo
had certainly made hundreds of more momentous shots, at his enemies or his
game, yet he never exerted himself more to excel. He raised his piece three
several times; once to get his range; once to calculate his distance; and once
because the bird, alarmed by the death like stillness that prevailed, turned
its head quickly, to examine its foes. But the fourth time he fired. The smoke,
the report, and the momentary shock, prevented most of the spectators from
instantly knowing the result; but Elizabeth, when she saw her champion drop the
end of his rifle in the snow, and open his mouth in one of its silent laughs,
and then proceed, very coolly, to re-charge his piece, knew that he had been
successful. The boys rushed to the mark, and lifted the turkey on high, lifeless,
and with nothing but the remnant of a head.
“Bring in the creater,”
said Leather-stocking, “and put it at the feet of the lady. I was her deputy in
the matter, and the bird is her property.”
“And a good deputy you
have proved yourself,” returned Elizabeth--“so good, cousin Richard, that I
would advise you to remember his qualities.” She paused, and the gayety that
beamed on her face gave place to a more serious earnestness. She even blushed a
little, as she turned to the young hunter, and, with the insinuating charm of a
woman’s best manner, added--“But it was only to see an exhibition of the
far-famed skill of Leather-stocking, that I tried my fortunes. Will you, sir,
accept the bird, as a small peace-offering, for the hurt that prevented your own
success?”
The expression with
which the youth received this present was indescribable. He appeared to yield
to the exquisite blandishment of her air, in opposition to a strong inward
impulse to the contrary. He bowed, and raised the victim silently from her
feet, but continued silent.
Elizabeth handed the
black a piece of silver as a remuneration for his loss, which had some effect
in again unbending his muscles, and then expressed to her companion her
readiness to return homeward.
“Wait a minute, cousin
Bess,” cried Richard; “there is an uncertainty about the rules of this sport,
that it is proper I should remove. If you will appoint a committee, gentlemen,
to wait on me this morning, I will draw up, in writing, a set of regulations--”
He stopped, with some indignation, to see who it was that so familiarly laid
his hand on the shoulder of the High Sheriff of --.
“A merry Christmas to
you, cousin Dickon,” said Judge Temple, who had approached the party
unperceived: “I must have a vigilant eye to my daughter, sir, if you are to be
seized daily with these gallant fits. I admire the taste, which would introduce
a lady to such scenes!”
“It is her own
perversity, ’duke,” cried the disappointed Sheriff, who felt the loss of the
first salutation as grievously as many a man would a much greater misfortune;
and I must say that she comes honestly by it. I led her out to show her the
improvements, but away she scampered, through the snow, at the first sound of
the fire-arms, the same as if she had been brought up in a camp, instead of a
first-rate boarding-school. I do think, Judge Temple, that such dangerous
amusements should be suppressed by law; nay, I doubt whether they are not
already indictable at common law.”
“Well, sir, as you are
Sheriff of the county, it becomes your duty to examine into the matter,”
returned the smiling Marmaduke. “I perceive that Bess has executed her
commission, and I hope it met with a favourable reception.”
Richard glanced his eye
at the packet, which he held in his hand, and the slight anger produced by his
disappointment vanished instantly.
“Ah! ’duke, my dear
cousin,” he said, “step a little on one side; I have something I would say to
you.” Marmaduke complied, and the Sheriff led him to a little distance in the
bushes, and continued--“First, ’duke, let me thank you for your friendly
interest with the Council and the Governor, without which, I am confident that
the greatest merit would avail but little. But we are sisters’ children--we are
sisters’ children; and you may use me like one of your horses; ride me or drive
me, ’duke, I am wholly yours. But in my humble opinion, this young companion of
Leather-stocking requires looking after. He has a very dangerous propensity for
turkey.”
“Leave him to my
management, Dickon,” said the Judge, gravely, “and I will cure his appetite by
indulgence. It is with him that I would speak. Let us rejoin the sportsmen.”
Poor wretch! the mother
that him bare,
If she had been in
presence there,
In his wan face, and
sun-burnt hair,
She had not known her child.
Scott
It diminished, in no
degree, the effect produced by the conversation which passed between Judge
Temple and the young hunter, that the former took the arm of his daughter, and
drew it through his own, when he advanced from the spot whither Richard had led
him, to where the youth was standing, in a musing attitude, leaning on his
rifle, and apparently contemplating the dead bird that lay at his feet. The
presence of Marmaduke did not interrupt the sports, which were resumed, by loud
and clamorous disputes concerning the conditions of a chance, that involved the
life of a bird of much inferior quality to the last. Leather-stocking and
Mohegan had alone drawn aside to the place where stood their youthful
companion; and, although in the immediate vicinity of such a throng, the
following conversation was heard only by those who were interested in it.
“I have greatly injured
you, Mr. Edwards,” said the Judge; but the sudden and inexplicable start with
which the person spoken to received this unexpected address, caused him to
pause a moment in manifest surprise, also. As no answer was given, and the
strong emotion exhibited in the countenance of the youth gradually passed away,
he continued--“But, fortunately, it is in some measure in my power to
compensate you for what I have done. My kinsman, Richard Jones, has received an
appointment that will, in future, deprive me of his assistance, and leaves me,
just now, destitute of one who might greatly aid me with his pen. Your manner, notwithstanding
appearances, is a sufficient proof of your education, nor will thy shoulder
suffer thee to labour, for some time to come. My doors are open to thee, my
young friend, for in this infant country we harbour no suspicions; little
offering to tempt the cupidity of the evil disposed. Become my assistant, for
at least a season, and receive such compensation as thy services will deserve.”
There was nothing in
the manner or the offer of the Judge to justify the reluctance, amounting
nearly to loathing, with which the youth listened to his speech; but after a
powerful effort, as if for self-command, he replied--
“I would serve you,
sir, or any other man, for an honest support, for I do not affect to conceal
that my necessities are very great, even beyond what appearances would
indicate; but I am fearful that such new duties would interfere too much with
more important business; so that I must decline your offer, and depend on my
rifle, as before, for my subsistence.”
Richard here took
occasion to whisper to the young lady, who had shrunk a little from the
foreground of the picture--
“This, you see, cousin
Bess, is the natural reluctance of a half-breed to leave the savage state.
Their attachment to a wandering life is, I verily believe, unconquerable.”
“It is a precarious
life,” observed Marmaduke, without hearing the Sheriff’s observation, “and one
that brings more evils with it than present suffering. Trust me, my young
friend, my experience is greater than thine, when I tell thee, that the unsettled
life of these hunters is of vast disadvantage for temporal purposes, and it
totally removes one from within the influence of more sacred things.”
“No, no, Judge,”
interrupted the Leather-stocking; who was hitherto unseen, or disregarded; “take
him into your shanty in welcome, but tell him the raal thing. I have lived in
the woods for forty long years, and have spent five years at a time without
seeing the light of a clearing, bigger than a wind-row in the trees; and I
should like to know where you’ll find a man, in his sixty-eighth year, who can
get an easier living, for all your betterments, and your deer-laws; and, as for
honesty, or doing what’s right between man and man, I’ll not turn my back to
the longest winded deacon on your Patent.”
“Thou art an exception,
Leather-stocking,” returned the Judge, nodding good-naturedly at the hunter; “for
thou hast a temperance unusual in thy class, and a hardihood exceeding thy
years. But this youth is made of materials too precious to be wasted in the
forest. I entreat thee to join my family, if it be but till thy arm be healed.
My daughter here, who is mistress of my dwelling, will tell thee that thou art
welcome.”
“Certainly,” said
Elizabeth, whose earnestness was strongly checked by the assumption of a woman’s
dignity. “The unfortunate would be welcome at any time, but doubly so, when we
feel that we have occasioned the evil ourselves.”
“Yes,” said Richard, “and
if you relish turkey, young man, there are plenty in the coops, and those of
the best kind, I can assure you.”
Finding himself thus
ably seconded, Marmaduke pushed his advantage to the utmost. He entered into a
detail of the duties that would attend the situation, and circumstantially
mentioned the reward, and all those points which are deemed of importance among
men of business. The youth listened in extreme agitation. There was an evident
contest in his feelings; at times he appeared to wish eagerly for the change,
and then again, the incomprehensible expression of disgust would cross his
handsome features, like a dark cloud obscuring a noon-day sun.
The Indian, in whose
manner the depression of self-abasement was most powerfully exhibited, listened
to the offers of the Judge, with an interest that increased with each syllable.
Gradually he drew nigher to the group; and when, with his keen glance, he
detected the most marked evidence of yielding in the countenance of his young
companion, he changed at once from his attitude and look of shame, to the
fearless and proud front of an Indian warrior, and moving, with great dignity,
closer to the parties, he spoke in his turn.
“Listen to your Father,”
he said, “for his words are old. Let the Young Eagle and the Great Land Chief
eat together; let them sleep, without fear, near to each other. The children of
Miquon love not blood; they are just, and will do right. The sun must rise and
set often, before men can make one family; it is not the work of a day, but of
many winters. The Mingoes and the Delawares are born enemies; their blood can
never mix in the wigwam; it never will run in the same stream in the battle.
What makes the brother of Miquon and the Young Eagle foes? they are of the same
tribe; their fathers and mothers are one. Learn to wait, my son: you have
Delaware blood, and an Indian warrior knows how to be patient.”
This figurative address
seemed to have great weight with the young man, who gradually yielded to the
representations of Marmaduke, and eventually consented to his proposal. It was,
however to be an experiment only; and if either of the parties thought fit to
rescind the engagement, it was left at his option so to do. The remarkable and
ill-concealed reluctance of the youth, to accept of an offer, which most men in
his situation would consider as an unhoped for elevation, occasioned no little
surprise in those of the spectators to whom he was a stranger; and it left a
slight impression to his disadvantage. When the parties separated, they very
naturally made the subject the topic of a conversation, which we shall relate;
first commencing with the Judge, his daughter, and Richard, who were slowly
pursuing the way back to the Mansion-house.
“I have surely
endeavoured to remember the holy mandates of our Redeemer, when he bids us to ‘love
them who despitefully use you,’ in my intercourse with this incomprehensible
boy,” said Marmaduke. “I know not what there is in my dwelling, to frighten a
lad of his years, unless it may be thy presence and visage, Bess.”
“No, no,” said Richard,
with great simplicity in his manner; “it is not cousin Bess. But when did you
ever know a half-breed, ’duke, who could bear civilization? for that matter,
they are worse than the savages themselves. Did you notice how knock-kneed he
stood, Elizabeth, and what a wild look he had in his eyes?”
“I heeded not his eyes,
sir, returned the maiden, “nor his knees, which would be all the better for a
little humbling. Really, my dear sir, I think you did exercise the christian
virtue of patience to the utmost. I was disgusted with his airs, long before he
consented to make one in our family. Truly, we are much honoured by the
association! In what apartment is he to be placed, sir; and at what table is he
to receive his nectar and ambrosia?”
“With Benjamin and
Remarkable,” interrupted Mr. Jones; “you surely would not make the youth eat
with the blacks! He is part Indian, it is true, but the natives hold the
negroes in great contempt. No, no--he would starve before he would break a
crust with the negroes.”
“I am but too happy,
Dickon, to tempt him to eat with ourselves,” said Marmaduke, “to think of
offering even the indignity you propose.”
“Then, sir,” said
Elizabeth, with an air that was slightly affected, as if submitting to her
father’s orders in opposition to her own will, “it is your pleasure that he be
a gentleman.”
“Certainly; he is to
fill the station of one; let him receive the treatment that is due to his
place, until we find him unworthy of it.”
“Well, well, ’duke,”
cried the Sheriff, “you will find it no easy matter to make a gentleman of him.
The old proverb says, ‘that it takes three generations to make a gentleman.
There was my father whom every body knew; my grandfather was an M. D.; and his
father a D. D.; and his father came from England. I never could come at the
truth of his origin, but he was either a great merchant, in London, or a great
country lawyer.”
“Here is a true
American genealogy for you,” said Marmaduke, laughing. “It does very well, ’till
you get across the water, where, as every thing is obscure, it is certain to
deal in the superlative. You are sure that your English progenitor was great,
Dickon, whatever his profession might be?”
“To be sure I am,”
returned the other; “I have heard my old aunt talk of him by the month. We are
of a good family, Judge Temple, and have never filled any but honourable
stations in life.”
“I marvel that you
should be satisfied with so scanty a provision of gentility, in the olden time,
Dickon. Most of the American genealogists commence their traditions, like the
stories for children, with three brothers, taking especial care that one of the
triumvirate shall be the progenitor of any of the same name who may happen to
be better furnished with worldly gear than themselves. But, here, all are equal
who know how to conduct themselves with propriety; and Oliver Edwards comes
into my family, on a footing with both the High Sheriff and the Judge.”
“Well, ’duke, I call
this democracy, not republicanism; but I say nothing; only let him keep within
the law, or I shall show him, that the freedom of even this country is under
wholesome restraint.”
“Surely, Dickon, you
will not execute till I condemn!” said Marmaduke. “But what says Bess to the
new inmate? We must pay a deferrence to the ladies, in this matter, after all.”
“Oh! sir,” returned
Elizabeth, “I believe I am much like a certain Judge Temple, in this
particular; not easily to be turned from my opinion. But, to be serious,
although I must think the introduction of a demi-savage into the family a
somewhat startling event, whomsoever you think proper to countenance, may be
sure of my respect.”
The Judge drew her arm
more closely in his own, and smiled, while Richard led the way through the gate
of the little court-yard in the rear of the dwelling, dealing out his ambiguous
warnings, with his accustomed loquacity.
On the other hand, the
foresters, for the three hunters, notwithstanding their great difference in
character, well deserved this common name, pursued their course along the
skirts of the village in silence. It was not until they had reached the lake,
and were moving over its frozen surface, towards the foot of the mountain,
where their hut stood, that the youth exclaimed--
“Who could have
foreseen this, a month since! I have consented to serve Marmaduke Temple! to be
an inmate in the dwelling of the greatest enemy of my race! yet what better
could I do? The servitude cannot be long, and when the motive for submitting to
it ceases to exist, I will shake it off, like the dust from my feet.”
“Is he a Mingo, that
you will call him enemy?” said Mohegan. “The Delaware warrior sits still, and
waits the time of the Great Spirit. He is no woman, to cry out like a child.”
“Well, I’m mistrustful,
John,” said Leather-stocking, in whose air there had been, during the whole
business, a strong expression of doubt and uncertainty. “They say that there’s
new laws in the land, and I am sartain that there’s new ways in the mountains.
One hardly knows the lakes and streams, they’ve altered the country so much. I
must say I’m mistrustful of such smooth speakers; for I’ve known the whites
talk fair, when they wanted the Indian lands most. This I will say, though I’m
white myself, and was born nigh York, and of honest parents too.”
“I will submit,” said
the youth; “I will forget who I am. Cease to remember, old Mohegan, that I am
the descendant of a Delaware chief, who once was master of these noble hills,
these beautiful vales, and of this water, over which we tread. Yes, yes--I will
become his bondsman-- his slave! Is it not an honourable servitude, old man?”
“Old man!” repeated the
Indian, solemnly, and pausing in his walk, as usual when much excited--“yes;
John is old. Son of my brother! if Mohegan was young, when would his rifle be
still? where would the deer hide, and he not find him? But John is old; his
hand is the hand of a squaw; his tomahawk is a hatchet; brooms and baskets are
his enemies--he strikes no other.-- Hunger and old age come together. See,
Hawk-eye! when young, he would go days and eat nothing; but should he not put
the brush on the fire now, the blaze would go out. Take the son of Miquon by
the hand, and he will help you.”
“I’m not the man I was,
I’ll own, Chingach-gook,” returned the Leather-stocking; “but I can go without
a meal now, on occasion. When we tracked the Iroquois through the ‘Beech-woods,’
they druv the game afore them, for I hadn’t a morsel to eat from Monday
morning, come Wednesday sundown; and then I shot as fat a buck, on the
Pennsylvanny line, as you ever laid eyes on. It would have done your heart raal
good to have seen the Delawares eat,--for I was out scouting and scrimmaging
with their tribe, at the very time. Lord! the Indians, lad, lay still, and just
waited till Providence should send them their game; but I foraged about, and
put a deer up, and put him down too, ’fore he had made a dozen jumps. I was too
weak, and too ravenous to stop for his flesh; so I took a good drink of his
blood, and the Indians eat of his meat raw. John was there, and John knows. But
then starvation would be apt to be too much for me now, I will own, though I’m
no great eater at any time.”
“Enough is said, my
friends,” cried the youth. “I feel that every where the sacrifice is required
at my hands, and it shall be made; but say no more, I entreat you; I cannot
bear the subject now.”
His companions were silent,
and they soon reached the hut, which they entered, after removing certain
complicated and ingenious fastenings, that were put there, apparently, to guard
a property of but very little value. Immense piles of snow lay against the log
walls of this secluded habitation, on one side, while fragments of small trees,
and branches of oak and chestnut, that had been torn from their parent stems by
the winds, were thrown into a pile, on the other. A small column of smoke rose
through a chimney of sticks, cemented with clay, along the side of the rock;
and had marked the snow above with its dark tinges, in a wavy line, from the
point of emission to another where the hill receded from the brow of a
precipice, and held a soil that nourished trees of a gigantic growth, that
overhung the little bottom beneath.
The remainder of the
day passed off as such days are commonly spent in a new country.-- The settlers
thronged to the academy again, to witness the second effort of Mr. Grant; and
Mohegan was one of his hearers. But, notwithstanding the Divine fixed his eyes
intently on the Indian, when he invited his congregation to advance to the
table, the shame of last night’s abasement was yet too keen in the old chief to
suffer him to move.
When the people were
dispersing, the clouds that had been gathering all the morning, were dense and
dirty; and before half of the curious congregation had reached their different
cabins, that were placed in every glen and hollow of the mountains, or perched
on the summits of the hills themselves, the rain was falling in torrents. The
dark edges of the stumps began to exhibit themselves, as the snow settled
rapidly; the fences of logs and brush, which before had been only traced by the
long lines of white mounds, that ran across the valley and up the mountains,
peeped out, in spots, from their light covering; and the black stubs were
momentarily becoming more distinct, as large masses of snow and ice fell from
their sides, under the influence of the thaw.
Sheltered in the warm
hall of her father’s comfortable mansion, Elizabeth, accompanied by Louisa
Grant, looked abroad with admiration at the ever-varying face of things
without. Even the village, which had just before been glittering with the
colour of the frozen element, reluctantly dropped its mask, and the houses
exposed their dark roofs and smoked chimneys. The pines shook off their
covering of snow, and every thing seemed to be assuming its proper hue, with a
rapidity of transition that bordered on the supernatural.
And yet, poor Edwin was
no vulgar boy.
Beattie
The close of Christmas
day, A. D. 1793, was tempestuous, but comparatively warm. When darkness had
again hid the objects in the village from the gaze of Elizabeth, she turned
from the window, where she had remained while the least vestige of light
lingered over the tops of the dark pines, with a curiosity that was rather
excited than appeased by the passing glimpses of woodland scenery that she had
caught during the day.
With her arm locked in
that of Miss Grant, the young mistress of the mansion walked slowly up and down
the hall, musing on scenes that were rapidly recurring to her memory, and
possibly dwelling, at times, in the sanctuary of her thoughts, on the strange
occurrences that had led to the introduction to her father’s family, of one,
whose manners so singularly contradicted the inferences to be drawn from his
situation. The expiring heat of the apartment, for its great size required a
day to reduce its temperature, had given to her cheeks a richness of bloom that
exceeded their natural colour, while the mild and melancholy features of Louisa
were brightened with a faint tinge, that, like the hectic glow of disease, gave
a painful interest to her beauty.
The eyes of the
gentlemen, who were yet seated around the rich wines of Judge Temple,
frequently wandered from the table, that was placed at one end of the hall, to
the lovely forms that were silently moving over its length. Much mirth, and
that, at times, of a boisterous kind, proceeded from the mouth of Richard; but
Major Hartmann was not yet excited to his pitch of merriment, and Marmaduke
respected the presence of his clerical guest too much, to indulge in even the
innocent humour that formed no small ingredient in his character.
Such were, and such
continued to be, the pursuits of the party, for half an hour after the shutters
were closed, and candles were placed in various parts of the hall, as
substitutes for the departing daylight. The appearance of Benjamin staggering
under the burthen of an armful of wood, was the first interruption to the
scene.
“How now, Master Pump!”
roared the newly appointed Sheriff; “is there not warmth enough in ’duke’s best
Madeira, to keep up the animal heat through this thaw? Remember, old boy, that
the Judge is particular with his beech and maple, beginning to dread, already,
a scarcity of the precious articles. Ha! ha! ha! ’duke, you are a good,
warm-hearted relation, I will own, as in duty bound, but you have some queer
notions about you, after all. ‘Come let us be jolly, and cast away folly!’ ”--
The notes gradually
sunk into a hum, while the Major-domo threw down his load, and turning to his
interrogator with an air of great earnestness, he replied--
“Why, look you, Squire
Dickens, mayhap there’s a warm latitude round about the table there, thof it’s
not the stuff to raise the heat in my body, neither; the raal Jamaiky being the
only thing to do that, beside good wood, or some such matter as Newcastle coal.
But if I know any thing of weather, d’ye see, it’s time to be getting all snug,
and for putting the ports in, and stirring the fires abit. Mayhap I’ve not
followed the seas twenty-seven years, and lived another seven in these here
woods, for nothing, gemmen.”
“Why, does it bid fair
for a change in the weather, Benjamin?” inquired the master of the house.
“There’s a shift of
wind, your honour,” returned the steward; “and when there’s a shift of wind,
you may look for a change, in this here climate. I was aboard of one of Rodney’s
fleet, d’ye see, about the time we licked De Grasse, Mounsheer Ler Quaw’s
countryman, there; and the wind was here at the south’ard and east’ard; and I
was below, mixing a toothful of hot-stuff for the Captain of marines, who
dined, d’ye see, in the cabin, that there very same day; and I suppose he
wanted to put out the Captain’s fire with a gun-room ingyne: and so, just as I
got it to my own liking, after tasting pretty often, for the soldier was
difficult to please, slap, come the fore-sail ag’in the mast, and whiz, went
the ship round on her heel, like a whirlygig. And a lucky thing was it that our
helm was down; for as she gathered starnway she payed off, which was more than
every ship in the fleet did, or could do. But she strained herself in the
trough of the sea, and she shipped a deal of water over her quarter. I never
swallowed so much clear water at a time, in my life, as I did then, for I was
looking up the after-hatch at the instant.”
“I wonder, Benjamin,
that you did not die with a dropsy!” said Marmaduke.
“I mought, Judge,” said
the old tar, with a broad grin; “but there was no need of the med’cine chest
for a cure; for, as I thought the brew was spoilt for the marine’s taste, and
there was no telling when another sea might come and spoil it for mine, I
finished the mug on the spot. So then all hands was called to the pumps, and
there we began to ply the pumps--”
“Well, but the weather?”
interrupted Marmaduke; “what of the weather without doors?”
“Why, here the wind has
been all day at the south, and now there’s a lull, as if the last blast was out
of the bellows; and there’s a streak along the mountain, to the north’ard,
that, just now, wasn’t wider than the bigness of your hand; and then the clouds
drive afore it as you’d brail a mainsail, and the stars are heaving in sight,
like so many lights and beacons, put there to warn us to pile on the wood; and,
if-so-be that I’m a judge of weather, it’s getting to be time to build on a
fire; or you’ll have half of them there porter-bottles, and them dimmy-johns of
wine, in the locker here, breaking with the frost, afore the morning watch is
called.”
“Thou art a prudent
sentinel,” said the Judge. “Act thy pleasure with the forests, for this night
at least.”
Benjamin did as he was
ordered; nor had two hours elapsed, before the prudence of his precautions
became very visible. The south wind had, indeed, blown itself out, and it was
succeeded by the calmness that usually gave warning of a serious change in the
weather. Long before the family retired to rest, the cold had become cuttingly
sever; and when Monsieur Le Quoi sallied forth, under a bright moon, to seek
his own abode, he was compelled to beg a blanket, in which he might envelope
his form, in addition to the numerous garments that his sagacity had provided
for the occasion. The divine and his daughter remained, as inmates of the
Mansion-house, during the night, and the excess of last night’s merriment
induced the gentlemen to make an early retreat to their several apartments.--
Long before midnight, the whole family were invisible.
Elizabeth and her
friend had not yet lost their senses in sleep, when the howlings of the
north-west wind were heard around the buildings, and brought with them that
exquisite sense of comfort, that is ever excited under such circumstances, in
an apartment where the fire has not yet ceased to glimmer; and curtains, and
shutters, and feathers, unite to preserve the desired temperature in the air.
Once, just as her eyes had opened, apparently in the last stage of drowsiness,
the roaring winds brought with them a long and plaintive howl, that seemed too
wild for a dog, and yet strongly resembled the cries of that faithful animal,
when night awakens his vigilance, and gives sweetness and solemnity to his
alarms. The form of Louisa Grant instinctively pressed nearer to that of the
young heiress, who, finding her companion was yet awake, said, in a low tone,
as if afraid to break a charm with her voice--
“Those distant cries
are plaintive, and even beautiful. Can they be the hounds from the hut of
Leather-stocking?”
“They are wolves, who
have ventured from the mountain, on the lake,” whispered Louisa, “and who are
only kept from the village by the lights. One night since we have been here,
hunger drove them to our very doors. Oh! what a dreadful night it was! But the
riches of Judge Temple have given him too many safeguards, to leave room for
fear in this house.”
“The enterprise of
Judge Temple is taming the very forests!” exclaimed Elizabeth, proudly,
throwing off the covering, and partly rising in the bed. “How rapidly is
civilization treading on the footsteps of nature!” she continued, as her eye
glanced over, not only the comforts, but the luxuries of her apartment, and her
ear again listened to distant, but often repeated howls from the lake. Finding,
however, that the timidity of her companion rendered the sounds painful to her,
Elizabeth resumed her place by her side, and soon forgot the changes in the
country, with those in her own condition, in a deep sleep.
The following morning,
the noise of the female servant, who entered the apartment to light their fire,
awoke the young maidens, who form such conspicuous subjects in our tale. They
arose, and finished the slight preparations of their toilettes in a clear, cold
atmosphere, that penetrated through all the defences of even Miss Temple’s warm
room. When Elizabeth was attried, she approached a window and drew its curtain,
and, throwing open its shutters, she endeavoured to look abroad on the village
and the lake. But a thick covering of frost, on the panes of glass, while it
admitted the light, hid the view. She raised the sash, and then, indeed, a most
glorious scene met her delighted eye.
The lake had exchanged
its covering of unspoted snow, for a face of dark ice, that reflected the rays
of the rising sun, like a polished mirror. The houses were clothed in a dress
of the same description, but which, owing to its position, shone like bright
steel; while the enormous icicles that were pendent from every roof, caught the
brilliant light, apparently throwing it from one to the other, as each
glittered, on the side next to the luminary, with a golden lustre, that melted
away, on its opposite, into the dusky shades of a back-ground. But it was the
appearance of the boundless forests, that covered the hills, as they rose, in
the distance, one over the other, that most attracted the gaze of Miss Temple.
The huge branches of the pines and hemlocks, on the western mountains, bent
with the weight of the ice they supported, while their summits rose above the
swelling tops of the oaks, beeches, and maples, like spires of burnished silver
issuing from domes of the same material. The limits of the view, in this
direction, were marked by an undulating outline of bright light, as if,
reversing the order of nature, numberless suns might momentarily be expected to
heave above the western horizon. In the foreground of the picture, along the
shores of the lake, and near to the village, each tree seemed studded with
diamonds, that emitted their dancing rays, as the branches waved gently under
the impulse of the air. Even the sides of the mountains, where the rays of the
sun could not yet fall, were decorated with a glassy coat, that presented every
gradation of brilliancy, from the first touch of the luminary to the dark
foliage of the hemlock, glistening through its coat of crystal. In short, the
whole view was one scene of quivering radiancy, as lake, mountains, village,
and woods, each emitted a portion of light, tinged with its peculiar hue, and
varied by its position and its magnitude.
“See!” cried
Elizabeth--“see, Louisa; hasten to the window, and observe the miraculous
change.”
Miss Grant complied;
and, after bending for a moment in silence from the opening, she observed, in a
low tone, as if afraid to trust the sound of her voice--
“The change is indeed
wonderful! I am surprised that he should be able to effect it so soon.”
Elizabeth turned in
amazement, to hear such a sceptical sentiment from one educated like her
companion; but was surprised to find that, instead of looking at the view, the
mild, blue eyes of Miss Grant were dwelling on the form of a well-dressed young
man, who was standing before the door of the building, in earnest conversation
with her father. A second look was necessary, before she was able to recognise
the person of the young hunter, in a plain, but, assuredly; the ordinary garb
of a gentleman.
“Every thing in this
magical country seems to border on the marvellous,” said Elizabeth; “and among
all the changes, this is certainly not the least wonderful. I am not surprised,
that your eye caught this transformation, without noticing the changes in the
view. The actors are as unique as the scenery.”
Miss Grant coloured
highly, and drew in her head, as she answered--
“I am a simple girl,
Miss Temple, and I am afraid you will find me but a poor companion.-- I--I am
not sure that I understand all that you say. But I really thought that you
wished me to notice the alteration in Mr. Edwards. Is it not more wonderful,
when we recollect his origin? They say he is part Indian.”
“He is certainly a
genteel savage,” returned the smiling Elizabeth. “But let us go down, and give
the Sachem his tea;--for I suppose he is a descendant of King Philip, if not a
grandson of Pocahontas.”
The ladies were met in
the hall by Judge Temple, who took his daughter aside, to apprise her of that
alteration in the appearance of their new inmate, with which she was already
acquainted.
“He appears reluctant
to converse on his former situation,” continued Marmaduke; “but I gather from
his discourse, as is apparent from his manner, that he has seen better days;
and I really am inclining to the opinion of Richard, as to his origin; for it
was no unusual thing for the Indian Agents to rear their children in a laudable
manner, and--”
“Very well, my dear
sir,” interrupted his daughter, laughing, and averting her eyes; “it is all
well enough, I dare say; but as I do not understand a word of the Mohawk
language, he must be content to speak English; and as for his behaviour, I
trust to your discernment to control it.”
“Ay! but, Bess,” said
the Judge, detaining her gently, with his hand, “nothing must be said to him of
his past life. This he has begged particularly of me, as a favour. He is,
perhaps, a little soured, just now, with his wounded arm; but the injury seems
very light, and another time he may be more communicative.”
“Oh! I am not much
troubled, sir, with that laudable thirst after knowledge, that is called
curiosity. I shall believe him to be the child of Corn-stalk, or Corn-planter,
or some other renowned chieftain; possibly of the Big Snake himself; and shall
treat him as such, until he sees fit to shave his good-looking head, borrow
some half-dozen pair of my best ear-rings, shoulder his rifle again, and
disappear as suddenly as he made his entrance. So come, my dear sir, and let us
not forget the rites of hospitality, for the short time he is to remain with
us.”
Judge Temple smiled, at
the graceful playfulness of his child, and taking her arm, they entered the
breakfast parlour, where the young hunter was seated, with an air that showed
his determination to domesticate himself in the family, with as little parade
as possible.
Such were the incidents
that led to this extraordinary increase in the family of Judge Temple, where,
having once established the youth, the subject of our tale requires us to leave
him, for a time, to pursue with diligence and intelligence the employments that
were assigned him by Marmaduke.
Major Hartmann made his
customary visit, and took his leave of the party, for the next three months.
Mr. Grant was compelled to be absent much of his time, in remote parts of the
country, and his daughter became almost a constant visiter at the
Mansion-house. Richard entered, with his constitutional eagerness, on the duties
of his new office; and, as Marmaduke was much employed, with the constant
applications of adventurers, for farms, the winter passed swiftly away. The
lake was a principal scene for the amusements of the young people; where the
ladies, in their one-horse cutter, driven by Richard, and attended, when the
snow would admit of it, by young Edwards, on his skates, spent many hours,
taking the benefit of exercise in the clear air of the hills. The reserve of
the youth gradually gave way to time and his situation, though it was still
evident, to a close observer, that he had frequent moments of bitter and
intense feeling.
Elizabeth saw many
large openings appear in the sides of the mountains, during the three
succeeding months, where different settlers had, in the language of the
country, “made their pitch;” while the numberless sleighs that passed through
the village, loaded with wheat and barrels of potashes, afforded a clear
demonstration that all these labours were not undertaken in vain. In short, the
whole country was exhibiting the bustle of a thriving settlement, where the
highways were thronged with sleighs, bearing piles of rough household
furniture; studded, here and there, with the smiling faces of women and
children, happy in the excitement of novelty; or with loads of produce,
hastening to the common market at Albany, as served as so many snares, to
induce the emigrants to enter into those wild mountains in search of competence
and happiness.
The village was alive
with business; the artisans increasing in wealth with the prosperity of the
country, and each day witnessing some nearer approach to the manners and usages
of an old-settled town. The man who carried the mail, or “the post,” as he was
called, talked much of running a stage, and once or twice, during the winter,
he was seen taking a single passenger in his cutter, through the snow-banks
towards the Mohawk, along which a regular vehicle glided, semi-weekly, with the
velocity of lightning, and under the direction of a knowing whip from the “down
countries.” Towards spring, divers families, who had been into the “old states,”
to see their relatives, returned, in time to save the snow, frequently bringing
with them whole neighbourhoods, who were tempted by their representations to
leave the farms of Connecticut and Massachusetts, and make a trial in the woods
for fortune.
During all this time,
Oliver Edwards, whose sudden elevation excited no surprise in that changeful
country, was earnestly engaged in the service of Marmaduke, during the days;
but his nights were often spent in the hut of Leather-stocking. The intercourse
between the three hunters was maintained with a certain air of mystery, it is
true, but with much zeal and apparent interest to all the parties. Even Mohegan
seldom came to the Mansion-house, and Natty, never; but Edwards sought every
leisure moment to visit his former abode, from which he would often return in
the gloomy hours of night, through the snow, or, if detained beyond the time at
which the family retired to rest, with the morning sun. These visits certainly
excited much speculation in those to whom they were known, but no comments were
made, excepting occasionally in whispers from Richard, who would say--
“It is not at all
remarkable;--a half-breed can never be weaned from the savage ways, any more
than a full-blooded Indian.”
END OF VOL. I.