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The Pioneers; Or, The Sources of the Susquehanna

by James Fenimore Cooper · English · Gutenberg #2275 · 985,060 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Pioneers; Or, The Sources of the Susquehanna

Author: James Fenimore Cooper


        
Release date: August 1, 2000 [eBook #2275]
                Most recently updated: December 30, 2019

Language: English

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THE PIONEERS

Or, The Sources of the Susquehanna

A Descriptive Tale


By J. Fenimore Cooper




INTRODUCTION


As this work professes, in its title-page, to be a descriptive tale,
they who will take the trouble to read it may be glad to know how much
of its contents is literal fact, and how much is intended to represent
a general picture. The author is very sensible that, had he confined
himself to the latter, always the most effective, as it is the most
valuable, mode of conveying knowledge of this nature, he would have made
a far better book. But in commencing to describe scenes, and perhaps he
may add characters, that were so familiar to his own youth, there was
a constant temptation to delineate that which he had known, rather than
that which he might have imagined. This rigid adhesion to truth, an
indispensable requisite in history and travels, destroys the charm of
fiction; for all that is necessary to be conveyed to the mind by
the latter had better be done by delineations of principles, and of
characters in their classes, than by a too fastidious attention to
originals.

New York having but one county of Otsego, and the Susquehanna but one
proper source, there can be no mistake as to the site of the tale. The
history of this district of country, so far as it is connected with
civilized men, is soon told.

Otsego, in common with most of the interior of the province of New
York, was included in the county of Albany previously to the war of the
separation. It then became, in a subsequent division of territory, a
part of Montgomery; and finally, having obtained a sufficient population
of its own, it was set apart as a county by itself shortly after the
peace of 1783. It lies among those low spurs of the Alleghanies which
cover the midland counties of New York, and it is a little east of a
meridional line drawn through the centre of the State. As the waters
of New York flow either southerly into the Atlantic or northerly
into Ontario and its outlet, Otsego Lake, being the source of the
Susquehanna, is of necessity among its highest lands. The face of the
country, the climate as it was found by the whites, and the manners of
the settlers, are described with a minuteness for which the author has
no other apology than the force of his own recollections.

Otsego is said to be a word compounded of Ot, a place of meeting, and
Sego, or Sago, the ordinary term of salutation used by the Indians of
this region. There is a tradition which says that the neighboring tribes
were accustomed to meet on the banks of the lake to make their treaties,
and otherwise to strengthen their alliances, and which refers the name
to this practice. As the Indian agent of New York had a log dwelling at
the foot of the lake, however, it is not impossible that the appellation
grew out of the meetings that were held at his council fires; the war
drove off the agent, in common with the other officers of the crown;
and his rude dwelling was soon abandoned. The author remembers it, a few
years later, reduced to the humble office of a smoke-house.

In 1779 an expedition was sent against the hostile Indians, who dwelt
about a hundred miles west of Otsego, on the banks of the Cayuga. The
whole country was then a wilderness, and it was necessary to transport
the baggage of the troops by means of the rivers--a devious but
practicable route. One brigade ascended the Mohawk until it reached the
point nearest to the sources of the Susquehanna, whence it cut a lane
through the forest to the head of the Otsego. The boats and baggage
were carried over this “portage,” and the troops proceeded to the
other extremity of the lake, where they disembarked and encamped. The
Susquehanna, a narrow though rapid stream at its source, was much filled
with “flood wood,” or fallen trees; and the troops adopted a novel
expedient to facilitate their passage. The Otsego is about nine miles
in length, varying in breadth from half a mile to a mile and a half. The
water is of great depth, limpid, and supplied from a thousand springs.
At its foot the banks are rather less than thirty feet high the
remainder of its margin being in mountains, intervals, and points. The
outlet, or the Susquehanna, flows through a gorge in the low banks just
mentioned, which may have a width of two hundred feet. This gorge
was dammed and the waters of the lake collected: the Susquehanna was
converted into a rill.

When all was ready the troops embarked, the damn was knocked away, the
Otsego poured out its torrent, and the boats went merrily down with the
current.

General James Clinton, the brother of George Clinton, then governor of
New York, and the father of De Witt Clinton, who died governor of the
same State in 1827, commanded the brigade employed on this duty. During
the stay of the troops at the foot of the Otsego a soldier was shot
for desertion. The grave of this unfortunate man was the first place of
human interment that the author ever beheld, as the smoke-house was the
first ruin! The swivel alluded to in this work was buried and abandoned
by the troops on this occasion, and it was subsequently found in digging
the cellars of the authors paternal residence.

Soon after the close of the war, Washington, accompanied by many
distinguished men, visited the scene of this tale, it is said with a
view to examine the facilities for opening a communication by water with
other points of the country. He stayed but a few hours.

In 1785 the author's father, who had an interest in extensive tracts of
land in this wilderness, arrived with a party of surveyors. The manner
in which the scene met his eye is described by Judge Temple. At the
commencement of the following year the settlement began; and from that
time to this the country has continued to flourish. It is a singular
feature in American life that at the beginning of this century, when the
proprietor of the estate had occasion for settlers on a new settlement
and in a remote county, he was enabled to draw them from among the
increase of the former colony.

Although the settlement of this part of Otsego a little preceded the
birth of the author, it was not sufficiently advanced to render it
desirable that an event so important to himself should take place in the
wilderness. Perhaps his mother had a reasonable distrust of the practice
of Dr Todd, who must then have been in the novitiate of his experimental
acquirements. Be that as it may, the author was brought an infant into
this valley, and all his first impressions were here obtained. He has
inhabited it ever since, at intervals; and he thinks he can answer for
the faithfulness of the picture he has drawn. Otsego has now become one
of the most populous districts of New York. It sends forth its emigrants
like any other old region, and it is pregnant with industry and
enterprise. Its manufacturers are prosperous, and it is worthy of remark
that one of the most ingenious machines known in European art is derived
from the keen ingenuity which is exercised in this remote region.

In order to prevent mistake, it may be well to say that the incidents of
this tale are purely a fiction. The literal facts are chiefly connected
with the natural and artificial objects and the customs of the
inhabitants. Thus the academy, and court-house, and jail, and inn, and
most similar things, are tolerably exact. They have all, long since,
given place to other buildings of a more pretending character. There
is also some liberty taken with the truth in the description of the
principal dwelling; the real building had no “firstly” and “lastly.”
 It was of bricks, and not of stone; and its roof exhibited none of the
peculiar beauties of the “composite order.” It was erected in an age
too primitive for that ambitious school of architecture. But the author
indulged his recollections freely when he had fairly entered the door.
Here all is literal, even to the severed arm of Wolfe, and the urn which
held the ashes of Queen Dido.*

  * Though forests still crown the mountains of Otsego, the bear, the
    wolf, and the panther are nearly strangers to them.  Even the innocent
    deer is rarely seen bounding beneath their arches; for the rifle and
    the activity of the settlers have driven them to other haunts.  To
    this change (which in some particulars is melancholy to one who knew
    the country in its infancy), it may be added that the Otsego is
    beginning to be a niggard of its treasures.

The author has elsewhere said that the character of Leather-Stocking is
a creation, rendered probable by such auxiliaries as were necessary to
produce that effect. Had he drawn still more upon fancy, the lovers of
fiction would not have so much cause for their objections to his work.
Still, the picture would not have been in the least true without some
substitutes for most of the other personages. The great proprietor
resident on his lands, and giving his name to instead of receiving it
from his estates as in Europe, is common over the whole of New York.
The physician with his theory, rather obtained from than corrected
by experiments on the human constitution; the pious, self-denying,
laborious, and ill-paid missionary; the half-educated, litigious,
envious, and disreputable lawyer, with his counterpoise, a brother of
the profession, of better origin and of better character; the shiftless,
bargaining, discontented seller of his “betterments;” the plausible
carpenter, and most of the others, are more familiar to all who have
ever dwelt in a new country.

It may be well to say here, a little more explicitly, that there was no
real intention to describe with particular accuracy any real characters
in this book. It has been often said, and in published statements, that
the heroine of this book was drawn after the sister of the writer, who
was killed by a fall from a horse now near half a century since. So
ingenious is conjecture that a personal resemblance has been discovered
between the fictitious character and the deceased relative! It is
scarcely possible to describe two females of the same class in life who
would be less alike, personally, than Elizabeth Temple and the sister of
the author who met with the deplorable fate mentioned. In a word, they
were as unlike in this respect as in history, character, and fortunes.

Circumstances rendered this sister singularly dear to the author. After
a lapse of half a century, he is writing this paragraph with a pain that
would induce him to cancel it, were it not still more painful to have it
believed that one whom he regarded with a reverence that surpassed the
love of a brother was converted by him into the heroine of a work of
fiction.

From circumstances which, after this Introduction, will be obvious to
all, the author has had more pleasure in writing “The Pioneers” than the
book will probably ever give any of its readers. He is quite aware of
its numerous faults, some of which he has endeavored to repair in this
edition; but as he has--in intention, at least--done his full share in
amusing the world, he trusts to its good-nature for overlooking this
attempt to please himself.




CHAPTER I.

     “See, Winter comes, to rule the varied years,
     Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
     Vapors, and clouds, and storms.”--Thomson.

Near the centre of the State of New 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 region the
numerous sources of the Susquehanna meander through the valleys until,
uniting their streams, they form one of the proudest rivers of the
United States. The mountains are generally arable to the tops, although
instances are not wanting where the sides are jutted with rocks that aid
greatly in giving to the country that romantic and picturesque character
which it so eminently possesses. The vales are narrow, rich, and
cultivated, with a stream uniformly winding through each. Beautiful and
thriving villages are found interspersed along the margins of the small
lakes, or situated at those points of the streams which are favorable
for 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 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 worship of God abound
with that frequency which characterize 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 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 territory was a
wilderness.

  * 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.

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 its 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, which was then inhabited by less than two
hundred thousand souls. Within the short period we have mentioned, the
population has spread itself over five degrees of latitude and seven of
longitude, and has swelled to a million and a half of inhabitants, who
are maintained in abundance, and can look forward to ages before the
evil day must arrive when their possessions shall become unequal to
their wants.

It was near the setting of the sun, on a clear, cold day in December,
when a sleigh was moving slowly up one of the mountains in the district
we have described. The day had been fine for the season, and but two or
three large clouds, whose color 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 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 everything that did not reach several feet above
the earth lay alike buried beneath the snow. A single track, barely wide
enough to receive the sleigh, * denoted the route of the highway, and
this was sunk nearly two feet below the surrounding surface.

  * Sleigh is the word used in every part of the United States to denote
    a traineau.  It is of local use in the west of England, whence it is
    most probably derived by the Americans.  The latter draw a distinction
    between a sled, or sledge, and a sleigh, the sleigh being shod with
    metal. Sleighs are also subdivided into two-horse and one-horse
    sleighs.  Of the latter, there are the cutter, with thills so arranged
    as to permit the horse to travel in the side track; the “pung,” or
    “tow-pung” which is driven with a pole; and the “gumper,” a rude
    construction used for temporary purposes in the new countries.  Many
    of the American sleighs are elegant though the use of this mode of
    conveyance is much lessened with the melioration of the climate
    consequent to the clearing of the forests.

In the vale, which lay at a distance of several hundred feet lower,
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 remained in the forest. There was glittering in the atmosphere,
as if it was filled with innumerable shining particles; and the noble
bay horses that drew the sleigh were covered, in many parts with a coat
of hoar-frost. The vapor 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 those transient beams of the sun which
found their way obliquely through the tops of the trees. Huge saddles,
studded with nails and fitted with cloth that served as blankets to the
shoulders of the cattle, 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 colored with a glistening black, was now
mottled with the cold, and his large shining eyes filled with tears;
a tribute to its power that the keen frosts of those regions always
extracted from one of his African origin. Still, there was a smiling
expression of good-humor in his happy countenance, that was created
by the thoughts of 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. The color of
its outside was a modest green, and that of its inside a fiery red, The
latter 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 by a profusion of furs,
enveloped the whole of his figure excepting the head, which was covered
with a cap of marten skins lined with morocco, the sides of which were
made to fall, if necessary, and were now drawn close over the ears and
fastened beneath his chin with a black ribbon. The top of the cap was
surmounted with the tail of the animal whose skin had furnished the rest
of the materials, which fell back, not ungracefully, a few inches
behind the head. From beneath this mask were to be seen part of a fine,
manly face, and particularly a pair of expressive large blue eyes, that
promised extraordinary intellect, covert humor, and great benevolence.
The form of his companion was literally hid beneath the garments she
wore. There were furs and silks peeping from under a large camlet 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 jet-black eyes.

Both the father and daughter (for such was the connection between the
two travellers) were too much occupied with their reflections to break
a stillness that derived 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 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 of an
education which the city of New York could only offer at that period. A
few months afterward death had deprived him of the remaining companion
of his solitude; but still he had enough 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 labors.
The reflections of the daughter were less melancholy, and mingled with
a pleased astonishment at the novel scenery she met at every turn in the
road.

The mountain on which they were journeying was covered with pines that
rose without a branch some seventy or eighty feet, and which frequently
doubled that height by the addition of the tops. 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 horizontal limbs, that were
covered with the meagre 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, plaintive sound that was quite in
consonance with the rest of the melancholy 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, 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 ear of the
gentleman he cried aloud to the black:

“Hol up, Aggy; there is old Hector; I should know his bay among ten
thousand! The Leather-Stocking has put his hounds into the hills this
clear day, and they have started their game. 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 of
his fingers, while the speaker stood erect and, throwing aside his outer
covering, stepped from the sleigh upon a bank of snow which sustained
his weight without yielding.

In a few moments the speaker succeeded in extricating a double-barrelled
fowling-piece from among a multitude of trunks and bandboxes. After
throwing aside the thick mittens which had encased his hands, there
now appeared 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 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. The deer dashed
forward undaunted, and apparently unhurt. Without lowering his piece,
the traveller turned its muzzle toward his 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, 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 firearms. 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, failing head long and
rolling over on the crust with its own velocity. A loud shout was given
by the unseen marksman, 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 should not have fired,”
 cried the traveller, moving toward the spot where the deer lay--near to
which he was followed by the delighted black, with his sleigh; “but the
sound of old Hector was too exhilarating to 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 pop-gun in your hand! There's plenty of
pheasants among the swamps; and the snow-birds are flying round your own
door, where you may feed them with crumbs, and shoot them at pleasure,
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 he 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 it has killed a deer before now,”
 said the traveller, smiling good-humoredly. “One barrel was charged with
buckshot, but the other was loaded for birds only. Here are two hurts;
one through the neck, and the other directly through the 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 surily.

“I suppose the creature 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 are two balls through
the deer, I would ask if there weren't two rifles fired--besides, who
ever saw such a ragged hole from a smooth-bore as this 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
either; 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 hunter
during the whole of his speech; yet he thought it prudent to utter the
close of the sentence in such an undertone as to leave nothing audible
but the grumbling sounds of his voice.

“Nay, Natty,” rejoined the traveller, with undisturbed good-humor, “it
is for the honor that I contend. A few dollars will pay for the venison;
but what will requite me for the lost honor 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 already this season, and has only brought in
one woodchuck 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
compelled 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, he had only to watch a-nights,
and he could shoot one by moonlight, through the cracks of the logs, no
fear of his oversleeping himself neither, 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 druv
them from the venison that was smoking on the chimney top--that dog is
more to be trusted than 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 attracted the
notice of the young female, who had been a close and interested observer
of his appearance and equipments, from the moment he 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 al most
to emaciation; but yet it bore no signs of disease--on the contrary, it
had every indication of the most robust and enduring health. The cold
and exposure had, together, given it a color of uniform red. His gray
eyes were glancing under a pair of shaggy brows, that over hung 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
overdress 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 colored
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 buckskin breeches, had
obtained for him among the settlers the nickname of Leather-Stocking.
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
powder 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-humor of the hunter's
manner, he exclaimed:

“I would fain establish a right, Natty, to the honor of this death; 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 bail 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 creatur
came by his end from a younger hand than either 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 honor, 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.

“Here are two to one, indeed,” replied the Judge with a smile; “I am
outvoted--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 send me the venison; and the deuce 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 respect fully, 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, 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 be hind 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 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 overcoat 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 forever afterward.”

“I thank you for your good intention, but I 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 me title to the venison.”

“Admit it!” repeated the agitated Judge; “I here give thee a right to
shoot deer, or bears, or anything thou pleasest in my woods, forever.
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, but he waited until the other had done speaking.

“There's them living who say that Nathaniel Bumppo's right to shoot on
these hills is of older date than Marmaduke Temple's right to forbid
him,” he said. “But if there's a law about it at all, though who ever
heard of a law that a man shouldn't kill deer where he pleased!--but
if there is a law at all, it should be to keep people from the use of
smooth-bores. A body never knows where his lead will fly, when he pulls
the trigger of one of them uncertain firearms.”

Without attending to the soliloquy of Natty, the youth bowed his head
silently to the offer of the bank-note, and replied:

“Excuse me: 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 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 color that the cold had given to his cheeks, as if
with inward shame at his own weakness, he again 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.”

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 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 toward 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 shouldst
thou require it, thou shalt return home in the morning.” The young man
succeeded in extricating his hand from the warm grasp of the Judge, but
he continued to gaze on the face of the female, who, regardless of the
cold, was still standing with her fine features exposed, which
expressed feeling that eloquently seconded the request of her father.
Leather-Stocking stood, in the meantime, leaning upon his long rifle,
with his head turned a little to one side, as if engaged in 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, 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. But I made a mark on the red-skin that
I'll warrant he'll carry to his grave! I took him on the posteerum,
saving the lady's presence, as he got up from the ambushment, and
rattled three buckshot 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 had to make shift with
the buckshot; but the rifle was true, and didn't 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 baggage to hear him. Unable to resist the
kind urgency of the travellers any longer, the youth, though still with
an unaccountable reluctance, 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 roan, 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 than 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 anything 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 curious 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
hasn't lived fifty 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. He then moved softly along the margin of
the road, keeping his eyes steadfastly fixed on the branches of a pine.
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 so erect as to form nearly a straight
line with its legs. As 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 toward the foot of the tree, “lie down,
I say.” The dog obeyed, and Natty proceeded with great rapidity, though
with the nicest accuracy, to reload 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 tidbit for an old man's Christmas--never mind the venison,
boy, and remember Indian John; his yarbs are better than 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 steps
that were between a walk and a trot. At each movement 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 tree; while his dogs were following
quietly in his footsteps, occasionally scenting the deer track, that
they seemed to know instinctively was now of no further use to them.
Another jerk was given to the sleigh, and Leather-Stocking was hid from
view.




CHAPTER II

     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 dependents.
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 dependents, 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
depend 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 fail, now became a
principle to stimulate them to endeavor 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 reascend in the scale of society; and in this
undertaking he was not a little assisted by a marriage, which aided in
furnishing the means of educating his only son in a rather better manner
than the low state of the common schools of 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 connection for
our Judge, and paved the way to most of his future elevation in life.

There was not only great wealth but high court interest among the
connections of Edward Effingham. They were one of the 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 domestic life unless to preside in the councils of the colony
or to bear arms in her defense. The latter had from youth been the only
employment of Edward's father. Military rank under the crown of Great
Britain was attained with much longer probation, and by much more
toilsome services, sixty years ago than at the present time. Years were
passed without murmuring, in the sub ordinate 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 has occasion to cross the Niagara may easily observe
not only the self importance, but the real estimation enjoyed by the hum
blest 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 tearless 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 splendor, he be came 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, intrusted 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 various civil offices which yielded not only
honor 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 set 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
money 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 stripped 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 of a fatiguing burden: such,
indeed, was the confidence existing between them, that to neither did it
seem anything 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 connection that was proffered to him, seemed to produce a mutual
advantage. It was cheerfully accepted, and the arrangement of its
conditions was easily completed. 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 connection 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 descend ant of a line of soldiers, commerce, even in that indirect
manner, seemed a degrading pursuit; 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 defense--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
in jury the more deeply because he saw that the avowed object of the
colonists, in withholding their succors, would only have a tendency to
expose his command, without preserving the peace. The soldier succeeded,
after a desperate conflict, in extricating himself, with a handful of
his men, from their murderous enemy; but he never for gave 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 religions 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 what 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 connection with, nay, even
his dependence on the integrity of, a Quaker.

It has been said 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 some what 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 connection, 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. He
married the lady we have mentioned, who was the mother of Elizabeth, and
the visits of his friend were becoming more frequent. 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, 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 followers 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 dissension 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 reappeared 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
rebel lion. Of course, all intercourse between the friends ceased--on
the part of Colonel 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 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 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 ended, and the independence of the States was 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 enterprise 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 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.




CHAPTER III


     “All that thou see'st is Natures handiwork;
     Those rocks that upward throw their mossy brawl
     Like castled pinnacles of elder times;
     These venerable stems, that slowly rock
     Their towering 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 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 overcoat 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 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. His anxiety seemed the strongest when he was enjoining his old companion to secrecy; and even when he had decided, and
was rather passively suffering himself to be conveyed to the village,
the expression of his 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
sat silent, and apparently musing. The Judge gazed at him for some time
with earnestness, and then smiling, as if at his own forgetfulness, he
said:

“I believe, my young friend, that terror has driven you from my
recollection; your face is very familiar, and yet, for the honor of a
score of bucks' tails in my cap, I could not tell your name.”

“I came into the country but three weeks since,” returned the youth
coldly, “and I understand you have been absent twice 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 bedside 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 honors of
Christmas eve in the hall of Templeton?”

“More able to do either, my dear father.” said a playful voice from
under the ample inclosures 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
thanksgiving to night, on more accounts than one.”

The horses soon reached a point where they seemed to know by instinct
that the journey was nearly ended, and, bearing on the bits as they
tossed their heads, 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 smoke which floated above 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 his auditors involuntarily met; and, if the color that
gathered over the face of Elizabeth was contradicted by the cold
expression of her eye, the ambiguous 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 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 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 childhood.
Immediately beneath them lay a seeming plain, glittering without
in equality, and buried in mountains. The latter were precipitous,
especially on the side of the plain, and chiefly in forest. Here and
there the hills fell away in long, low points, and broke the sameness
of the outline, or setting to the long and wide field of snow, which,
without house, tree, fence, or any other fixture, resembled so much
spot less cloud settled to the earth. A few dark and moving spots were,
however, visible on the even surface, which the eye of Elizabeth knew to
be so many sleighs going their several ways to or from the village. 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, or 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, which announced, by the smoke that 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 labor,
enlarged into what were called settlements, but more frequently
were small and insulated; though so rapid were the changes, and so
persevering the labors 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
this remarkable plain, on which no plant had taken root, 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 an 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
the wildness of 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
vapors 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 was to be traced for miles, as it wound its way toward
the south through the real valley, by its borders of hemlock and pine,
and by the vapor 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, far as the eye could reach, a narrow but graceful
valley, 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 and at its foot, stood the village of Templeton. It consisted of
some fifty buildings, including those of every description, chiefly
built of wood, and which, in their architecture, bore no great marks
of taste, but which also, by the unfinished appearance of most of the
dwellings, indicated the hasty manner of their construction, To the eye,
they presented a variety of colors. A few were white in both front and
rear, but more bore that expensive color on their fronts only, while
their economical but ambitious owners had covered the remaining sides
of the 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 in a manner
that aped the streets of a city, and were evidently so arranged by the
directions of one who looked 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 color,
were fitted with green blinds, which, at that season at least, 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 favored
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 the wants of the community
under the title of storekeepers; and a disciple of Aesculapius, 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 above all its neighbors. It stood in the centre of
an inclosure of several acres, which was covered with fruit-trees. Some
of the latter had been left by the Indians, 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
of the village. In addition to this show of cultivation were two rows
of young Lombardy 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
certain Mr. Richard Jones, whom we have already mentioned, and who, from
his cleverness in small matters, and an entire willingness to exert his
talents, added to the circumstance of their being sisters' children,
ordinarily superintended all the minor concerns of Marmaduke Temple.
Richard was fond of saying that this child of invention consisted of
nothing more nor less than what should form the groundwork of every
clergyman's discourse, viz., a firstly and a lastly. He had commenced
his labors, in the first year of their residence, by erecting a tall,
gaunt edifice of wood, with its gable toward the highway. In this
shelter for it was little more, the family resided 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 soiled 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 everything that pertained to that
branch of the fine arts. Not that Mr. Jones did not affect to consider
Hiram Doolittle a perfect empiric 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 anything plausible from his own stores of learning or from secret
admiration, Richard generally submitted to the arguments of his
co-adjutor. Together, they had not only erected a dwelling for
Marmaduke, but they had given a fashion to the architecture of the whole
county. The composite order, Mr. Doolittle would contend, was an order
composed of many others, and was intended to be the most useful of all,
for it admitted into its construction such alterations as convenience
or circumstances might require. To this proposition Richard usually
assented; and when rival geniuses who monopolize not only all the
reputation but most of the money of a neighborhood, are of a mind, it
is not uncommon to see them lead the fashion, even in graver matters.
In the present instance, as we have already hinted, the castle, as
Judge Templeton's dwelling was termed in common parlance, came to be
the model, in some one or other of its numerous excellences, for every
aspiring edifice within twenty miles of it.

The house itself, or the “lastly,” was of stone: large, square, and far
from uncomfortable. These were four requisites, on which Marmaduke
had insisted with a little more than his ordinary pertinacity. But
everything else was peaceably assigned to Richard and his associate.
These worthies found the material a little too solid for the tools of
their workmen, which, in General, were employed on a substance no harder
than the white pine of the adjacent mountains, a wood so proverbially
soft that it is commonly chosen by the hunters for pillows. But for this
awkward dilemma, it is probable that the ambitious tastes of our two
architects would have left us much more to do in the way of description.
Driven from the faces of the house by the obduracy of the material, they
took refuge in the porch and on the roof. The former, it was decided,
should be severely classical, and the latter a rare specimen of the
merits of the Composite order.

A roof, Richard contended, was a part of the edifice that the ancients
always endeavored to conceal, it being an excrescence in architecture
that was only to be tolerated on account of its usefulness. Besides, as
he wittily added, a chief merit in a dwelling was to present a front on
whichever side it might happen to be seen; for, as it was exposed to
all eyes in all weathers, there should be no weak flank for envy or
unneighborly criticism to assail. It was therefore decided that the
roof should be flat, and with four faces. 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 until the
massive timbers were raised 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 whole edifice. Richard and his
associate consoled themselves with the relief that the covering would
aid in concealing this unnatural elevation; but every shingle that was
laid only multiplied objects to look at. Richard essayed to remedy
the evil with paint, and four different colors 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-color,” being nothing more nor less than an imitation of smoke;
the third was what Richard termed an invisible green, an experiment that
did not succeed against a background of sky. Abandoning the attempt to
conceal, our architects drew upon their invention for means to ornament
the offensive shingles.

After much deliberation and two or three essays by moonlight, Richard
ended the affair by boldly covering the whole beneath a color that he
christened “sunshine,” a cheap way, as he assured his cousin the Judge,
of always keeping fair weather over his head. The platform, as well as
the caves 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
labors. 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 roof was much the most important architectural 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 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 labors, 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, as has been said, 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 of
respectability and comfort to his place of residence. Still, there was
much of in congruity, 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 pine;
and even, in one or two instances, unsightly remnants of trees that had
been partly destroyed by fire were seen rearing their black, glistening
columns twenty or thirty feet above the pure white of the snow, These,
which in the language of the country are termed stubs, 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 and many other unpleasant
additions to the view were unseen by the delighted Elizabeth, who, as
the horses 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 curling from the valley to the clouds; the frozen lake as it lay
imbedded in mountains of evergreen, with the long shadows of the pines
on its white surface, lengthening in the setting sun; the dark ribbon
of water that gushed from the outlet and was winding its way toward the
distant Chesapeake--the altered, though still remembered, scenes of her
child hood.

Five years had wrought greater changes than a century would produce in
countries where time and labor have given permanency to the works of
man. To our young hunter and the Judge the scene had less novelty;
though none ever emerge from the dark forests of that mountain, and
witness the glorious scenery of that beauteous valley, as it bursts
unexpectedly upon them, without a feeling of delight. The former cast
one admiring glance from north to south, and sank 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, attracted the attention of
the whole party, as they came jingling up the sides of the mountain,
at a rate that announced a powerful team and a hard driver. The bushes
which lined the highway interrupted the view, and the two sleighs were
close upon each other before either was seen.




CHAPTER IV


     “How now? whose mare's dead? what's the matter?”
      --Falstaff

A large lumber sleigh, drawn by four horses, was soon seen dashing
through the leafless bushes which fringed the road. 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 the 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 acquainted the
Judge with 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, except a face of an unvarying red color. There was
an habitual upward look about the head of this gentleman, as if
dissatisfied with its natural proximity to the earth; and the expression
of his countenance was that of busy care, He was the charioteer, and he
guided the mettled animals 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 overcoats
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 any obstacle, for from either side of his forehead their
light-blue, glassy balls projected. The sallow of his countenance was
too permanent to be affected even by the intense cold of the evening.
Opposite to this personage sat a solid, short, and square figure. No
part of his form was to be discovered through his overdress, but a face
that was illuminated by a pair of black eyes 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, well as the other two, wore
marten-skin caps. The fourth was a meek-looking, long-visaged man,
without any other protection from the cold than that which was furnished
by a black surcoat, made with some little formality, but which
was rather threadbare and rusty. He wore a hat of extremely decent
proportions, though frequent brushing had quite destroyed its nap. His
face was pale, and withal a little melancholy, or what might be termed
of a studious complexion. The air had given it, just now, a light
and somewhat feverish flush, The character of his whole appearance,
especially contrasted to the air of humor in his next companion, was
that of habitual mental care. 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, black-eyed Bess. Thou seest, Marina duke
that I have taken the field with an assorted cargo, to do thee honor.
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-bye, Judge, I
must sell the blacks for you immediately; they interfere, and 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. And 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 vill 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. “I have always a kiss for my old
friend. Major Hartmann.”

By this time the gentleman in the front seat, who had been addressed
as Monsieur Le Quoi, had arisen with some difficulty, owing to the
impediment of his overcoats, 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 paid his
compliments.

“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
thine, he might have been living to this day.” The jokes of Richard
never failed of exciting risibility, for he uniformly did honor 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 homeward.

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 in 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 civilly
volunteered his services to take off the leaders, and the Judge very
earnestly seconded the measure with his advice. Richard treated both
proposals with great disdain.

“Why, and wherefore. Cousin 'Duke?” he exclaimed, a little angrily; “the
horses are 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.”

It was not in the nature of the Frenchman to disappoint expectations
so confidently formed; although he cat looking down the precipice which
fronted him, as Richard turned his leaders into the quarry, with a pair
of eyes that stood out like those of lobsters. The German's muscles were
unmoved, but his quick sight scanned each movement. 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 the whip, succeeded in forcing the
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 farther 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, and
this was now buried in the snow. The sleigh was easily breed across so
slight an impediment, and before Richard became conscious of his danger
one-half of the vehicle Was projected over a precipice, which fell
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, and cried,

“Oh! mon cher Monsieur Deeck! mon Dieu! que faites vous!”

“Donner und 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, “be prudent, good sir--be
careful.”

“Get up, obstinate devils!” cried Richard, catching a bird's-eye view of
his situation, and in his eagerness to move forward kicking the stool
on which he sat--“get up, I say--Cousin 'Duke, I shall have to sell the
grays too; they are the worst broken horses--Mr. Le Quoi” Richard was
too much agitated to regard his pronunciation, of which he was commonly
a little vain: “Monsieur La Quoi, pray get off my leg; you hold my leg
so tight that it's no wonder the horses back.”

“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, which
were yet suffering under the injudicious and somewhat random blows
of Richard, were dancing up and down with that ominous movement that
threatens a sudden and uncontrollable start, still pressing backward.
The youth gave the leaders a powerful jerk, and they plunged aside, and
re-entered the road in the position in which they were first halted.
The sleigh was whirled from its dangerous position, and upset, with
the runners outward. The German and the divine were thrown, rather
unceremoniously, into the highway, but without danger to their bones.
Richard appeared in the air, describing the segment of a circle, of
which the reins were the radii, and 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. The
Frenchman, who was on his legs, in the act of springing from the sleigh,
took an aerial flight also, much in the 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 scarecrows 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 unload your sleigh very hautily!”

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 thanksgiving 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 trembled with nervous
agitation. There was some confusion in the faculties of Mr. Jones also:
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, anyhow!--it was a lucky thought in me
to hold on to the reins, or the fiery devils would have been over the
mountain by this time. How well I recovered myself, '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 the rein, brought them round quite in rule, I must own myself.” *

  * The spectators, from immemorial usage, have a right to laugh at the
    casualties of a sleigh ride; and the Judge was no sooner certain that
    no one was done than he made full use of the privilege.

“Thou jerk! thou recover thyself, Dickon!” he said; “but for that brave
lad yonder, thou and thy horses, or rather mine, would have 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 you, Mister Agamemnon, be pleas come down ici, and help me on
my leg?”

The divine and the negro seized the incarcerated 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 upward, in order to examine the distance he
had fallen. His good-humor 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
toward the top of the mountain just now.”

“Praise be God, I no fly down into the 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 bad busied himself in throwing the buck, together with several other
articles of 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' 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 that there will
be a visit from Santa Claus * to-night.”

  * The periodical visits of St. Nicholas, or Santa Claus, as he is
    termed, were never forgotten among the inhabitants of New York, until
    the emigration from New England brought in the opinions and usages of
    the Puritans, like the “bon homme de Noel.” he arrives at each
    Christmas.

The black grinned, conscious of the bribe that was offered him for
silence on the subject of the deer, while Richard, without in the least
waiting for the termination of his cousin's speech, 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 anybody 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! I am amazed! Yes, here are two holes in him, he
has fired both barrels, and hit him each time, Egod! how Marmaduke will
brag! he is a prodigious bragger about any small matter like this now;
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 foot in
my life--it is hit or miss with me--dead or run away-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?”

“Oh! massa Richard, maybe 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 grin that opened a mouth from ear to ear.

“Ten rod!” echoed the other; “way, Aggy, the deer I killed last winter
'was at twenty--yes! if anything 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, all 'e folks say Natty kill him.”

“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 else for him. This is a damned
envious world that we live in--people are always for dividing the credit
at 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 front a print of his namesake in London, I own; but
essentially, as to all points of genius, my own.”

  * The grants of land, made either by the crown or the state, were but
    letters patent under the great seal, and the term “patent” is usually
    applied to any district of extent thus conceded; though under the
    crown, manorial rights being often granted with the soil, in the
    older counties the word “manor” is frequently used.  There are many
    manors in New York though all political and judicial rights have
    ceased.

“I don't know where he come from,” said the black, losing every mark of
humor in an expression of admiration, “but eb'rybody say, he wounerful
handsome.”

“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 West Herfield
meeting-house; but I never believe more than half 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 it's tea 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 Captain 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 like horse-hair, he tells everybody 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 the 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 and
his real master occurred, the black felt too much deference for both to
express any opinion.

  * The manumission of the slaves in New York has been gradual.  When
    public opinion became strong in their favor, then grew up a custom of
    buying the services of a slave, for six or eight years, with a
    condition to liberate him at the end of the period.  Then the law
    provided that all born after a certain day should be free, the males
    at twenty--eight and the females at twenty-five.  After this the owner
    was obliged to cause his servants to be taught to read and write
    before they reached the age of eighteen, and, finally, the few that
    remained were all unconditionally liberated in 1826, or after the
    publication of this tale.  It was quite usual for men more or less
    connected with the Quakers, who never held slaves to adopt the first
    expedient.

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 everybody how he saved my
horses, when, if he had let them alone for half a minute longer, I would
have brought them in much better, without upsetting, with the whip amid
rein--it spoils a horse to give him his heal, I should not wonder if
I had to sell the whole team, just for that one jerk he gave them,”
 Richard paused and 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 Santa Claus; and, while he briefly
explained how they had taken up the person in question on the top of
the mountain, he forbore to add anything concerning the accident or 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 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, maybe 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 axe?”

“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 he is taking the youth down to get the pay?”

The pleasure of this discovery had put Richard in such a good humor,
that the negro's fears in some measure vanished, and he remembered the
stocking of Santa Claus. 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 lash to the negro's back; “speak
truth, or I 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 toward his master, and finding both
equally unwilling to remain there, 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 lodge
“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 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 bounces 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
out Milligan's leg for him, while he cut it off.”

  * In America the term Yankee is of local meaning.  It is thought to be
    derived from the manner in which the Indians of New England pronounced
    the word “English,” or “Yengeese.” New York being originally a Dutch
    province, the term of course was not known there, and Farther south
    different dialects among the natives themselves probably produced a
    different pronunciation Marmaduke and his cousin, being Pennsylvanians
    by birth, were not Yankees in the American sense of the word.

Richard was now seated on the stool again, and, the black taking the
hind seat, the steeds were put in motion toward 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 buckshot 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.




CHAPTER V


     “Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made,
     And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' th' heel;
     There was no link to color 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 plane, 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
framework, both the value of Labor and the abundance of materials. This
little torrent, whose dark waters gushed 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 an arm
in welcome. 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 Elizabeth found herself at once amidst the incongruous
dwellings of the village. The street was of the ordinary width,
notwithstanding 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 huge heaps of logs, that were daily
increasing rather than diminishing in size, notwithstanding the enormous
fires that might be seen through every window.

The last object at which Elizabeth gazed when they renewed their
journey, after their encountre 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 sank behind the western hills.
But his setting rays darted along the openings of the mountain he was
on, and lighted the shining covering of the birches, until their smooth
and glossy coats nearly rivalled the mountain sides in color. The
outline 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 at the leave-taking of
the luminary. 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, the light still lingered, receding step by step from
the earth into the clouds that were gathering with the evening mist,
about the limited horizon, but the frozen lake lay without a shadow on
its 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 labor 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 firelight of the 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 of 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. 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 between the base of the pillars and the
stones on which they had originally been placed. It was lucky for the
whole fabric that the carpenter, who did the manual part of the labor,
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 bareheaded, but evidently
more dressed than usual, and on 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 to give 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 habitual contempt. His head composed full one-fourth of his
whole length, and the cue 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 neighborhood of the tin mines, and his youth as the cabin-boy of
a smuggler, between Falmouth and Guernsey. From this trade he had been
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,
lobster, 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 earth, he was inclined to make 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 some times induces a
dapper Cockney to quit his home, and lands him, before the sound
of Bow-bells is 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 that
will be developed in the course of the tale, he held, under Mr.
Jones, the office of major-domo. 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 labor to keep his ship from sinking after
Rodney's victory, he had universally acquired the nick name 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 color with a tall, meagre, shapeless figure,
sharp features, and a somewhat acute expression of her physiognomy. Her
teeth were mostly gone, and what did remain were of a tight yellow. The
skin of her nose was drawn tightly over the member, to hang in large
wrinkles in her cheeks and about her mouth. She took snuff in such
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 color 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 of being outdone, ceased their out-cry. One
stately, powerful mastiff, who wore round 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 some thing 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 heat; 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, some of which was
brought from the city, the remainder having been 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 the 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-colored wood, through the
grains of which the wavy lines of the curled maple of the mountains
were beautifully undulating. Near to this, in a corner, stood a heavy,
old-fashioned, brass-faced clock, incased in a high box, of the dark
hue of the black walnut from the seashore. An enormous settee, or sofa,
covered with light chintz, stretched along the walls for nearly twenty
feet on one side of the hail; 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 exactitude. Two small glass chandeliers were suspended at
equal distances between the stove and outer doors, one of which opened
at each 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 were all due to the taste 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 Shakespeare. 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
nondescript, representing “a man with a shirt-collar open,” to use the
language of Richard, “with a laurel on his head-it was Julius Caesar or
Dr. Faustus; there were good reasons for believing either.”

The walls were hung with a dark lead-colored English paper that
represented Britannia weeping over the tomb of Wolfe, The hero himself
stood at a little distance from the mourning goddess, and at the edge of
the paper. Each width contained the figure, with the slight exception of
one arm of the general, which ran over on 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
favorite's life, numberless cruel amputations of his right arm.

The luckless cause of these unnatural divisions now announced his
presence in the halt by a loud crack of his whip.

“Why, Benjamin! you Ben Pump! is this the manner in which you receive
the heiress?” he cried. “Excuse him, Cousin Elizabeth. The arrangements
were too intricate 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 boat swain'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 Betsey here must have altered
more than a privateer in disguise, since she has got on her woman's
duds, if she will 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
sensation on entering the hall. The former had resided one year in the
building before she left home for school, and the figure of its lamented
mistress was missed by both husband and child.

But candles had been placed in the chandeliers and lustres, and the
attendants were so far recovered from 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 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 diffuse
discourse,

The instant that Remarkable Pettibone had executed her portion of the
labor 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 curiosity--not unmixed with
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 cloaks, 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 color 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 a
little severe. 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 lightly 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-color,
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 undervest 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 stool.

When the young lady had extricated herself from 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
the 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
clean and glittering in the strong light of the apartment.

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 in strong contrast to the
smiling faces and neatly attired person ages who had thus assembled to
do honor to the heiress of Templeton.

In a corner of the hall near 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 color 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 even 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 splendor 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 continued
to gaze at him in wonder. The contraction of the stranger's brows in
creased 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.

“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.

“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 worst 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 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 learned 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 my
father's side had a knack at physic. 'There was my uncle that was killed
at Brandywine--he died as easy again as any other man the regiment,
just from knowing how to hold his breath naturally. Few men know how to
breathe naturally.”

“I doubt not, Dickon,” returned the Judge, meeting the bright smile
which, in spite of himself, stole over the stranger's features, “that
thy family thoroughly understand the art of letting life slip through
their lingers.”

Richard heard him quite coolly, and putting a hand in either pocket of
his surcoat, so as to press forward the skirts, 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 anything but bears, and
deer, and woodchucks, knows better than to believe virtues are not
transmitted in families. Don't you, friend?”

“I believe that vice is not,” said the stranger abruptly; his eye
glancing from the father to the daughter.

“The squire is right, Judge,” observed Benjamin, with a knowing nod of
his head toward 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 hanged. 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 cockpit or not? Now when we fell in with the mounsheers, under De
Grasse, d'ye see, we hid 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 will 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.”

Richard paused and looked at the speaker, a little astonished at the
language, and a good deal appalled at the refusal. He 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, said in an undertone:

“Now, mark my words--there will be a story among the settlers, that all
our necks would have been broken but for that fellow--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.




CHAPTER VI


     “And about his shelves,
     A beggarly account of empty boxes,
     Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds.
     Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
     Were thinly scattered to make up a show.”
      --Shakespeare.

Doctor Elnathan Todd, for such was the 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 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 some what easy
circumstances, had allowed this boy to shoot up to the height we
have mentioned, without the ordinary interruptions of field labor,
wood-chopping, and such other toils as were imposed on his brothers.
Elnathan was indebted for this exemption from labor 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 earn a living comfortably
enough by taking to pleading law, or turning minister, or doctoring, or
some such like easy calling.' Still, there was great uncertainty which
of these vocations the youth was best endowed to fill; but, having
no other employment, the stripling 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 clew to his future path through the turmoils
of the world. “Elnathan was cut out for a doctor, she knew, for he was
forever digging for herbs, and tasting all kinds of things that grow'd
about the lots. Then again he had a natural 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 such 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, dyed 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 to much; and, once or twice, when the ignorant little
things had persevered in opposition to Elnathan's advice, he had known
her son empty the school-baskets with his own mouth, to prevent the
consequences.”

Soon after this comfortable declaration from his school master, 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 a pocket; for his instructor held it absurd
to teach his pupil how to dispatch 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 a meeting in a long coat (and well did it deserve the name!) of black
homespun, with little bootees, bound with an uncolored calf-skin for the
want of red morocco.

Soon after he was seen shaving with a dull razor. Three or four months
had scarce elapsed before several elderly ladies were observed hastening
toward 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 the place
where the physician was last seen; 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, out of breath, trotting before him. The
following day the youth appeared in the street, as the highway was
called, and the neighborhood was much edified by the additional gravity
of his air. 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, Dr. Todd, by her prudent mother. The ice
once broken in this manner, Elnathan was greeted from every mouth with
his official appellation.

Another year 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 suspicious-looking box, that smelled
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 handbox. The next intelligence that his friends
received of the bride and bridegroom was, that the latter was “settled
in the new countries, and well to do as a doctor in Templeton, in York
State!”

If a Templar would smile at the qualifications of Marmaduke to fill the
judicial seat 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 Aesculapius. 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 own peers of 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 of 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 phial in
his saddle-bags on the strangers 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 judgment concerning intermittents, remittents, tertians,
quotidians, etc. 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
comfort ably 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 éclat, 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 his nerves and
moral feeling had ever sustained. In the hour of need, however, he was
not found wanting. Most of the amputations in the new settlements, and
they were quite frequent, were per formed 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 could feel the pain shooting up from the inhumed fragment into the
living members. Marmaduke suggested that the fault might lie in the
arteries and nerves; but Richard, considering the amputation as part of
his own handiwork, 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, 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 Dr. Todd, whose reputation was hourly
increasing, and, luckily for his patients, his information also.

Notwithstanding Dr. Todd's practice, and his success with the leg, he
was not a little appalled on entering the hall of the mansion-house. It
was glaring with the light of day; it looked so 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 anxious 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 in closure.

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 toward him, and her face expressing deep anxiety in every
one of its beautiful features. The enormous 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 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 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
akimbo, was balancing his square little body with the indifference of
one who is 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--“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, smiling, “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 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 to 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 overcoat, and
now stood clad in a plain suit of the common, light-colored 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 toward the commiserating
Elizabeth, who was standing in an unchanged posture, too much absorbed
with her anxious feelings to heed his actions. A slight color appeared
on the brow of the youth.

“Possibly the sight of blood may alarm the lady; I will retire to
another room while the wound is dressing.”

“By no means.” said Dr. Todd, who, having discovered that his patient
was far from being a man of importance, felt much emboldened to perform
the duty. “The strong light of these candles is favorable 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 envious cover of a cloud. The action was unheeded by
all but Remarkable, who observed to Benjamin:

“Dr. Todd is a comely man to look on, and despu't pretty. 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, coloring excessively,
she motioned to a young woman who served in the capacity of 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 hand of the other, who tore divers bandages from it,
with an exactitude that marked both his own skill and the importance of
the operation.

When this preparatory measure was taken, Dr. Todd selected a piece of
the shirt with great care, and handing 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'izen the wound. 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 linen on his knee with great diligence.

A table was now spread with phials, 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. 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
phials, filled with liquids of the most radiant colors. 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 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-book of tools
tere, and your toctor-stuff glitters as if it was petter for ter eyes as
for ter pelly.”

Elnathan gave a hem--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! Dr. Todd is right,” said Remarkable, “and has Scripter for
what he says. The Bible tells us how things may 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 pas sage of the buckshot 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 minutiae
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 wound and then the young
man looked awful; and then I thought I should have swaned away--I felt
in sitch a dispu't taking; and then the doctor had run it right through
his shoulder, and shoved the bullet out on tother side; and so Dr. 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.”

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 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 little 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 neighborhood.”

“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 mustn't 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 a humble way, like myself, d'ye see, which was from
being only a hander of topgallant 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, “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 cidevant 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 Foodyrong, one of Mounsheer Ler Quaw's
countrymen!” *

  * It is possible that the reader may start at this declaration of
    Benjamin, but those who have lived in the new settlements of America
    are too much accustomed to hear of these European exploits to doubt
    it.

“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 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 so 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 encyclopaedia mentions much more incredible
circumstances than that, as, I dare say, you know, Dr. Todd.”

“Certainly, there are incredible tales told in the encyclopaedias,”
 returned Elnathan, “though I cannot say that I have ever seen, myself,
anything larger than a musket ball 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 took 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 spectators 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 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.




CHAPTER VII.

     “From Sesquehanna'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 had descended numberless tribes. But,
as the original distinctions between these nations were marked by a
difference in language, as well as by repeated and bloody wars, they
were never 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 afterward 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
was 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 confederation in
the order in which they are named. The Tuscaroras were admitted to this
union near a century after its foundation, and thus completed the number
of six.

Of the Lenni Lenape, or as they were called by the whites, from the
circumstances of their holding their great council-fire on the banks
of that river, the Delaware nation, the principal tribes, besides that
which bore the generic name, were the Mahicanni, Mohicans, or Mohegans,
and the Nanticokes, or Nentigoes. 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 much
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 council-fire 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 in artifice in
order to prevail over 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 its members within the rules of the 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 war,
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 the 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, among the
hills of the Delaware, he alone had remained, with a determination of
laying his hones 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 conversation with Natty, held in the language of the Delawares,
he was heard uniformly to call himself Chingachgook, which, interpreted,
means the “Great Snake.” This name he had acquired in his youth, by his
skill and prowess in 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 mournful 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 favor 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 and
European fashions. Notwithstanding the in tense cold 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 amid former conditions, that he
encouraged its abundance, as a willing veil to hide the shame of a noble
soul, mourning for glory 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 freedom that had distinguished them in youth. His mouth was
large, but compressed, and possessing a great share of expression and
character, and, when opened, it 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 deer-skin, where it was retained by a belt of
bark that confined it to his waist.

As he walked slowly down the long hail, the 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 buckskin, and rested on his high chest, amid many
scars. His shoulders were rather broad and full; but the arms, though
straight and graceful, wanted the muscular appearance that labor gives
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 two inches below the members, had evidently been used for the
purposes of decoration in other days in his hand he held a small basket
of the ash-wood slips, colored 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 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 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, “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, “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 in jury nor
favor?”

John listened respectfully to the divine, and, when he had concluded, he
stretched out his arm, and said with energy:

“He is innocent. My brother has not done this.”

Marmaduke received the offered hand of the other with a 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 interest powerfully delineated in his countenance.

No sooner was this act of pacification exchanged, than John proceeded
to discharge the duty on 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 humors 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. The young man, I hear, lives
with John and Natty Bumppo, and it's always best to humor a patient,
when it can be done discreetly--I say, discreetly, monsieur.”

“Certainement,” returned the Frenchman; “you seem ver happy, Mister
Todd, in your pratice. I tink the elder 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 the Indian,
and said: “Sago, sago, Mohegan! sago my good fellow I am glad you have
come; give me a regular physician, like Dr. 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 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, and then it
was rising again 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 a mark, very much like rifle bullets. Shall I help you,
John? You know 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 “Dr. 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
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 was 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 ardor 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
toothache, or rheumatism, or some of them complaints. A man should never
be above learning, 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 afterward united the component parts of
Mohegan's remedy, and was thus 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 honor occurred, and Elnathan was seen to apply a
salve to the wound received by one of the parties, which had the flavor
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 New York 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 sewing the bandages, for these were
implements of which the native but little understood the use: and, step
ping 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; I scraped it myself, and I
will not turn my back at scraping lint to any man on the Patent. I ought
to know how, if anybody 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 neatly taken out, although, perhaps, seeing I had
a hand in it, I ought not to say so; and the wound is 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, 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 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-sixpence. 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 wished 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 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 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 used by our Divine Master himself,
and it should be the golden rule with 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 harbor 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 so fresh, he
must feel more strongly than in 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 ingrain 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-bye, 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
everybody 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 the ladi.”

“Yes, yes, to the women, I know,” said Richard, “that is your Salic
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 to-morrow 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 spitting-box by his side, “now listen; I have livet
seventy-five years on ter Mohawk, and in ter woots. You had better
mettle as mit ter deyvel, as mit ter hunters, Tey live mit ter gun, and
a rifle is better as ter law.”

“Ain't 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. “But we will now take our
evening's repast, which I perseive, by Remarkable's physiognomy, is
ready. Monsieur Le Quoi, Miss Temple has a hand at your service. Will
you lead the way, my child?”

“Ah! ma chere mam'selle, comme je suis enchante!” said the Frenchman.
“Il ne manque que les dames de faire un paradis de Templeton.”

Mr. Grant and Mohegan continued in the hall, while the remainder of the
party withdrew to an eating parlor, if we except Benjamin, who civilly
remained to close the rear after the clergyman 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, 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; 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
color; 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
forefinger downward, as if pointing from the heavens; then, striking his
other band 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 his 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 encouraging:

“The parson says the word that is true, John. If so be that they took
count of the color of the 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 norwester is enough to whiten the skin of a
blackamore. Let the reef out of your blanket, man, or your red hide will
hardly weather the night with out a touch from the frost.”




CHAPTER VIII.

     “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 shall briefly attempt to explain the reason why we have been obliged
to present so motley a dramatis personae.

Europe, at the period of our tale, was in the commencement of that
commotion which afterward shook her political institutions to the
centre. Louis the Sixteenth had been beheaded, and a nation once
esteemed the most refined among the civilized people of the world was
changing its 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 favor 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 exchange 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 gunpowder and tobacco; a
quantity of iron-ware, 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's-harps.
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 taste. His
calicoes were the finest, or, in other words, the most showy, of any
that were brought into the country, and it was 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.” *

  * The 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 a descendant of a man who, in company with a number
of his countrymen, had emigrated with their families from the banks of
the Rhine to those of the Mohawk. This migration 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 immovable courage, in flexible honesty, and undeviating in
his friendships. In deed 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 speak High Dutch that ever gained
his entire confidence Four times in each year, at periods equidistant,
he left his low stone dwelling on the banks of the Mohawk, and travelled
thirty miles, through the hills, to the door of the mansion-house in
Templeton. Here he generally stayed a week; and was reputed to spend
much of that time in riotous living, greatly 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 on 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 e

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