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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851 [1823], The pioneers, volume 1 (Charles Wiley, New York) [word count] [eaf054v1].
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Front matter Covers, Edges and Spine

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Preliminaries

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Lillian Gary Taylor; Robert C. Taylor; Eveline V. Maydell, N. York 1923. [figure description] Bookplate: silhouette of seated man on right side and seated woman on left side. The man is seated in a adjustable, reclining armchair, smoking a pipe and reading a book held in his lap. A number of books are on the floor next to or beneath the man's chair. The woman is seated in an armchair and appears to be knitting. An occasional table (or end table) with visible drawer handles stands in the middle of the image, between the seated man and woman, with a vase of flowers and other items on it. Handwritten captions appear below these images.[end figure description]

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THE PIONEERS.

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THE
PIONEERS.
OR THE
SOURCES OF THE SUSQUEHANNA; A DESCRIPTIVE TALE.

Extremes of habits, manners, time and space,
Brought close together, here stood face to face,
And gave at ones a contrast to the view,
That other lands and ages never knew.
PAULDING.
NEW-YORK:
PUBLISHED BY CHARLES WILEY.
J. SEYMOUR, PRINTER

1823.

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Southern District of New-York, ss. Be it remembered, That on the seventeenth day of October, in the
forty-seventh year of the Independence of the United States of America,
Charles Wiley, of the said District, hath deposited in this office the title
of a book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, in the words following,
to wit:
“The Pioneers, or the Sources of the Susquehanna; a Descriptive Tale.
By the Author of `Precaution'.
`Extremes of habits, manners, time and space,
Brought close together, here stood face to face,
And gave at once a contrast to the view,
That other lands and ages never knew.'—
Paulding.
In conformity to the Act of Congress of the United States, entitled “As
Act for the encouragement of Learning, by securing the copies of Maps,
Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during
the time therein mentioned.” And also to an act, entitled “an Act, supplementary
to an Act, entitled an Act for the encouragement of Learning,
by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors
of such copies, during the times therein mentioned, and extending
the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical
and other prints.”
JAMES DILL.
Clerk of the Southern District of New-York.

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TO JACOB SUTHERLAND, OF BLENHEIM, SCOHARIE, ESQUIRE.

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The length of our friendship would be
a sufficient reason for prefixing your name
to these pages; but your residence so
near the scene of the tale, and your familiarity
with much of the character and
kind of life that I have attempted to describe,
render it more peculiarly proper.
You, at least, dear Sutherland, will not
receive this dedication as a cold compliment,
but as an evidence of the feeling
that makes me,

Warmly and truly,
Your friend,

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PREFACE. TO MR. CHARLES WILEY, Bookseller.

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Every man is, more or less, the sport
of accident; nor do I know that authors
are at all exempted from this humiliating
influence. This is the third of my novels,
and it depends on two very uncertain contingencies,
whether it will not be the last:—
the one being the public opinion, and the
other mine own humour. The first book
was written, because I was told that I could
not write a grave tale; so, to prove that
the world did not know me, I wrote one
that was so grave nobody would read it;
wherein I think that I had much the best
of the argument. The second was written

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to see if I could not overcome this neglect
of the reading world. How far I have succeeded,
Mr. Charles Wiley, must ever
remain a secret between ourselves. The
third has been written, exclusively, to
please myself: so it would be no wonder
if it displeased every body else; for what
two ever thought alike, on a subject of the
imagination?

I should think criticism to be the perfection
of human acquirements, did there
not exist this discrepancy in taste. Just
as I have made up my mind to adopt the
very sagacious hints of one learned Reviewer,
a pamphlet is put into my hands,
containing the remarks of another, who
condemns all that his rival praises, and
praises all that his rival condemns. There
I am, left like an ass between two locks
of hay; so that I have determined to relinquish
my animate nature, and remain
stationary, like a lock of hay between two
asses.

It is now a long time, say the wise ones,
since the world has been told all that is
new and novel. But the Reviewers (the
cunning wights!) have adopted an ingenious
expedient, to give a freshness to

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the most trite idea. They clothe it in a
language so obscure and metaphysical,
that the reader is not about to comprehend
their pages without some labour.
This is called a great “range of thought;”
and not improperly, as I can testify; for,
in my own case, I have frequently ranged
the universe of ideas, and come back
again in as perfect ignorance of their
meaning as when I set out. It is delightful,
to see the literati of a circulating library
get hold of one of these difficult periods!
Their praise of the performance
is exactly commensurate with its obscurity.
Every body knows, that to seem wise is the
first requisite in a great man.

A common word in the mouths of all Reviewers,
readers of magazines, and young
ladies, when speaking of novels, is “keeping;
and yet there are but few who attach
the same meaning to it. I belong,
myself, to the old school, in this particular,
and think that it applies more to the
subject in hand, than to any use of terms,
or of cant expressions. As a man might
just as well be out of the world as out of
“keeping,” I have endeavoured to confine
myself, in this tale, strictly to its

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observance. This is a formidable curb to
the imagination, as, doubtless, the reader
will very soon discover; but under its influence
I have come to the conclusion,
that the writer of a tale, who takes the
earth for the scene of his story, is in some
degree bound to respect human nature.
Therefore I would advise any one, who
may take up this book, with the expectation
of meeting gods and goddesses,
spooks or witches, or of feeling that strong
excitement that is produced by battles
and murders, to throw it aside at once, for
no such interest will be found in any of its
pages.

I have already said, that it was mine
own humour that suggested this tale; but
it is a humour that is deeply connected
with feeling. Happier periods, more interesting
events, and, possibly, more beauteous
scenes, might have been selected,
to exemplify my subject; but none of either
that would be so dear to me. I wish,
therefore, to be judged more by what I
have done, than by my sins of omission.
I have introduced one battle, but it is not
of the most Homeric kind. As for murders,
the population of a new country

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will not admit of such a waste of human
life. There might possibly have been
one or two hangings, to the manifest advantage
of the “settlement;” but then it
would have been out of “keeping” with
the humane laws of this compassionate
country.

The “Pioneers” is now before the world,
Mr. Wiley, and I shall look to you for the
only true account of its reception. The
critics may write as obscurely as they
please, and look much wiser than they are;
the papers may puff or abuse, as their
changeful humours dictate; but if you
meet me with a smiling face, I shall at once
know that all is essentially well.

If you should ever have occasion for a
preface, I beg you will let me hear from
you in reply.

Yours, truly,
THE AUTHOR.
New-York, January 1st, 1823.

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Main text

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THE PIONEERS; OR THE SOURCES OF THE SUSQUEHANNA. CHAPTER I.

See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds, and storms—
Thompson.

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Near the centre of the great 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 country, the numerous sources of the
mighty Susquehanna meander through the valleys,
until, uniting, they form one of the proudest
streams of which the old United States could boast.
The mountains are generally arable to the top,
although instances are not wanting, where their
sides are jutted with rocks, that aid greatly in
giving that romantic character to the country,
which it so eminently possesses. The vales are
narrow, rich, and cultivated; with a stream uniformly
winding through each, now gliding peacefully
under the brow of one of the hills, and then
suddenly shooting across the plain, to wash the

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feet of its opposite rival. Beautiful and thriving
villages are found interspersed along the margins
of the small lakes, or situated at those points of the
streams which are favourable to manufacturing;
and neat and comfortable farms, with every indication
of wealth about them, are scattered profusely
through the vales, and even to the mountain tops.
Roads diverge in every direction, from the even
and graceful bottoms of the valleys, to the most
rugged and intricate passes of the hills Academies,
and minor edifices for the encouragement
of learning, meet the eye of the stranger, at every
few miles, as he winds his way through this uneven
territory; and places for the public worship of
God abound with that frequency which characterizes
a moral and reflecting people, and with that
variety of exterior and canonical government
which flows from unfettered liberty of conscience.
In short, the whole district is hourly exhibiting
how much can be done, in even a rugged country,
and with a severe climate, under the dominion
of mild laws, and where every man feels a direct
interest in the prosperity of a commonwealth, of
which he knows himself to form a distinct and independent
part. The expedients of the pioneers
who first broke ground in the settlement of this
country, are succeeded by the permanent improvements
of the yeoman, who intends to leave
his remains to moulder under the sod which he
tills, or, perhaps, of the son, who, born in the land,
piously wishes to linger around the grave of his
father. Only forty years have passed since this
whole territory was a wilderness.

Very soon after the establishment of the independence
of the States by the peace of 1783, the
enterprise of their citizens was directed to a development
of the natural advantages of their
widely extended dominions. Before the war of

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the revolution the inhabited parts of the colony
of New-York were limited to less than a tenth
of her possessions. A narrow belt of country,
extending for a short distance on either side of the
Hudson, with a similar occupation of fifty miles
on the banks of the Mohawk, together with the
islands of Nassau and Staten, and a few insulated
settlements on chosen land along the margins of
streams, composed the country that was then inhabited
by less than two hundred thousand souls.
Within the short period we have mentioned, her
population has spread itself over five degrees of
latitude and seven of longitude, and has swelled
to the powerful number of nearly a million and
a half, who are maintained in abundance, and can
look forward to ages before the evil day must arrive,
when their possessions will become unequal
to their wants.

Our tale begins in 1793, about seven years
after the commencement of one of the earliest of
those settlements, which have conduced to effect
that magical change in the power and condition
of the state, to which we have alluded.

It was near the setting of the sun, on a clear,
cold day in December of that year, when a sleigh
was moving slowly up one of the mountains in
the district which we have described. The day
had been fine for the season, and but two or three
large clouds, whose colour seemed brightened by
the light reflected from the mass of snow that
covered the earth, floated in a sky of the purest
blue. The road wound along the brow of a precipice,
and on one side was upheld by a foundation
of logs, piled for many feet, one upon the other,
while a narrow excavation in the mountain, in the
opposite direction, had made a passage of sufficient
width for the ordinary travelling of that day But
logs, excavation, and every thing that did not reach

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for several feet above the earth, lay promiscuously
buried under the snow. A single track, barely
wide enough to receive the sleigh, denoted the
route of the highway, and this was sunken near
two feet below the surrounding surface. In the
vale, which lay at a distance of several hundred
feet beneath them, there was what in the language
of the country was called a clearing, and
all the usual improvements of a new settlement;
these even extended up the hill to the point
where the road turned short and ran across the
level land, which lay on the summit of the mountain;
but the summit itself yet remained a forest.
There was a glittering in the atmosphere,
as if it were filled with innumerable shining
particles, and the noble bay horses that drew the
sleigh were covered, in many parts, with a
coat of frost. The vapour from their nostrils was
seen to issue like smoke; and every object in the
view, as well as every arrangement of the travellers,
denoted the depth of a winter in the mountains.
The harness, which was of a deep dull black, differing
from the glossy varnishing of the present day,
was ornamented with enormous plates and buckles
of brass, that shone like gold in the transient beams
of the sun, which found their way obliquely through
the tops of the trees. Huge saddles, studded with
nails of the same material, and fitted with cloths
that admirably served as blankets to the shoulders
of the animals, supported four high, square-topped
turrets, through which the stout reins led from
the mouths of the horses to the hands of the driver,
who was a negro, of apparently twenty years of
age. His face, which nature had coloured with
a glistening black, was now mottled with the cold,
and his large shining eyes were moistened with a
liquid that flowed from the same cause; still
there was a smiling expression of good humour

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in his happy countenance, that was created by
the thoughts of his home, and a Christmas fireside,
with its Christmas frolics. The sleigh was
one of those large, comfortable, old-fashioned
conveyances, which would admit a whole family
within its bosom, but which now contained only
two passengers besides the driver. Its outside
was of a modest green, and its inside of a fiery red,
that was intended to convey the idea of heat in
that cold climate. Large buffalo skins, trimmed
around the edges with red cloth, cut into festoons,
covered the back of the sleigh, and were spread
over its bottom, and drawn up around the feet of
the travellers—one of whom was a man of middle
age, and the other a female, just entering
upon womanhood. The former was of a large stature;
but the precautions he had taken to guard
against the cold, left but little of his person exposed
to view. A great-coat, that was abundantly
ornamented, if it were not made more
comfortable, by a profusion of furs, enveloped
the whole of his figure, excepting the head, which
was covered with a cap of martin skins, lined
with morocco, the sides of which were made to fall,
if necessary, and were now drawn close over the
ears, and were fastened beneath his chin with a
black riband; its top was surmounted with the tail
of the animal whose skin had furnished the materials
for the cap, which fell back not ungracefully,
a few inches behind the head. From beneath this
masque were to be seen part of a fine manly face,
and particularly a pair of expressive, large blue
eyes, that promised extraordinary intellect, covert
humour, and great benevolence. The form of his
companion was literally hid beneath the multitude
and variety of garments which she wore. There
were furs and silks peeping from under a large
camblet cloak, with a thick flannel lining, that,

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by its cut and size, was evidently intended for a
masculine wearer. A huge hood of black silk,
that was quilted with down, concealed the whole
of her head, except at a small opening in front
for breath, through which occasionally sparkled a
pair of animated eyes of the deepest black.

Both the father and daughter (for such was the
connexion between the travellers) were too much
occupied with their different reflections to break
the stillness, that received little or no interruption
from the easy gliding of the sleigh, by the sound
of their voices. The former was thinking of the
wife that had held this their only child fondly to
her bosom, when, four years before, she had reluctantly
consented to relinquish the society of
her daughter, in order that the latter might enjoy
the advantages which the city could afford to her
education. A few months afterwards death had
deprived him of the remaining companion of his
solitude; but still he had enough of real regard for
his child, not to bring her into the comparative wilderness
in which he dwelt, until the full period had
expired, to which he had limited her juvenile
labours. The reflections of the daughter were
less melancholy, and mingled with a pleased astonishment
at the novel scenery that she met at every
turn in the road.

The mountain on which they were journeying
was covered with pines, that rose without a branch
seventy or eighty feet, and which frequently tower
ed to an additional height, that more than equalled
that elevation. Through the innumerable vistas
that opened beneath the lofty trees the eye could
penetrate, until it was met by a distant inequality
in the ground, or was stopped by a view of the
summit of the mountain which lay on the opposite
side of the valley to which they were hastening.
The dark trunks of the trees, rose from the pure

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white of the snow, in regularly formed shafts, until,
at a great height, their branches shot forth their
horizontal limbs, that were covered with the meager
foliage of an evergreen, affording a melancholy
contrast to the torpor of nature below. To the
travellers there seemed to be no wind; but these
pines waved majestically at their topmost boughs,
sending forth a dull, sighing sound, that was quite
in consonance with the scene.

The sleigh had glided for some distance along
the even surface, and the gaze of the female was
bent in inquisitive, and, perhaps, timid glances,
into the recesses of the forest, which were lighted
by the unsullied covering of the earth, when a
loud and continued howling was heard, pealing
under the long arches of the woods, like the cry
of a numerous pack of hounds. The instant the
sounds reached the ears of the gentleman, whatever
might have been the subject of his meditations,
he forgot it; for he cried aloud to the
black—

“Hold up, Aggy; there is old Hector; I should
know his bay among ten thousand. The
Leather-stocking has put his hounds into the hills this clear
day, and they have started their game, you hear.
There is a deer-track a few rods ahead;—and
now, Bess, if thou canst muster courage enough to
stand fire, I will give thee a saddle for thy Christmas
dinner.”

The black drew up, with a cheerful grin upon
his chilled features, and began thrashing his arms
together, in order to restore the circulation to
his fingers, while the speaker stood erect, and,
throwing aside his outer covering, stept from the
sleigh upon a bank of snow, which sustained his
weight without yielding more than an inch or two.
A storm of sleet had fallen and frozen upon the
surface a few days before, and but a slight snow had

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occurred since to purify, without weakening its
covering.

In a few moments the speaker succeeded in extricating
a double-barrelled fowling-piece from
amongst a multitude of trunks and bandboxes.
After throwing aside the thick mittens which had
encased his hands, that now appeared in a pair of
leather gloves tipped with fur, he examined his
priming, and was about to move forward, when the
light bounding noise of an animal plunging through
the woods was heard, and directly a fine buck darted
into the path, a short distance ahead of him. The
appearance of the animal was sudden, and his
flight inconceivably rapid; but the traveller appeared
to be too keen a sportsman to be disconcerted
by either. As it came first into view he
raised the fowling-piece to his shoulder, and, with
a practised eye and steady hand, drew a trigger;
but the deer dashed forward undaunted, and apparently
unhurt. Without lowering his piece, the
traveller turned its muzzle towards his intended
victim, and fired again. Neither discharge, however,
seemed to have taken effect.

The whole scene had passed with a rapidity that
confused the female, who was unconsciously rejoicing
in the escape of the buck, as he rather darted
like a meteor, than ran across the road before her,
when a sharp, quick sound struck her ear, quite
different from the full, round reports of her father's
gun, but still sufficiently distinct to be
known as the concussion produced by fire-arms.
At the same instant that she heard this unexpected
report, the buck sprang from the snow, to a great
height in the air, and directly a second discharge,
similar in sound to the first, followed, when the
animal came to the earth, falling headlong, and
rolling over on the crust once or twice with its
own velocity. A loud shout was given by the

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unseen marksman, as triumphing in his better aim;
and a couple of men instantly appeared from behind
the trunks of two of the pines, where they had
evidently placed themselves in expectation of the
passage of the deer.

“Ha! Natty, had I known you were in ambush,
I would not have fired,” cried the traveller, moving
towards the spot where the deer lay—near to
which he was followed by the delighted black,
with the sleigh; “but the sound of old Hector was
too exhilirating to let me be quiet; though I hardly
think I struck him either.”

“No—no—Judge,” returned the hunter, with
an inward chuckle, and with that look of exultation,
that indicates a consciousness of superior
skill; “you burnt your powder, only to warm
your nose this cold evening. Did ye think to stop
a full grown buck, with Hector and the slut open
upon him, within sound, with that robin pop-gun
in your hand? There's plenty of pheasants
amongst the swamps; and the snow birds are flying
round your own door, where you may feed
them with crumbs, and shoot enough for a potpie,
any day; but if you're for a buck, or a little
bear's meat, Judge, you'll have to take the long
rifle, with a greased wadding, or you'll waste
more powder than you'll fill stomachs, I'm thinking.”

As the speaker concluded, be drew his bare hand
across the bottom of his nose, and again opened
his enormous mouth with a kind of inward laugh.

“The gun scatters well, Natty, and has killed
a deer before now,” said the traveller, smiling
good humouredly. “One barrel was charged
with buck shot; but the other was loaded for birds
only.—Here are two hurts that he has received;
one through his neck, and the other directly

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through his heart. It is by no means certain,
Natty, but I gave him one of the two”

“Let who will kill him,” said the hunter, rather
surlily, “I suppose the cretur is to be eaten.”
So saying, he drew a large knife from a leathern
sheath, which was stuck through his girdle or sash,
and cut the throat of the animal. “If there is two
balls through the deer, I want to know if there
wasn't two rifles fired—besides, who ever saw
such a ragged hole from a smooth-bore, as this is
through the neck?—and you will own yourself,
Judge, that the buck fell at the last shot, which
was sent from a truer and a younger hand than
your'n or mine 'ither; but for my part, although
I am a poor man, I can live without the venison,
but I don't love to give up my lawful dues in a free
country. Though, for the matter of that, might
often makes right here, as well as in the old country,
for what I can see.”

An air of sullen dissatisfaction pervaded the
manner of the nunter during the whole of this
speech; yet he thought it prudent to utter the
close of the sentence in such an under tone, as to
leave nothing audible but the grumbling sounds of
his voice.

“Nay, Natty,” rejoined the traveller, with undisturbed
good humour, “it is for the honour that
I contend. A few dollars will pay for the venison;
but what will requite me for the lost honour
of a buck's tail in my cap? Think, Natty, how
I should triumph over that quizzing dog, Dick
Jones, who has failed seven times this season already
and has only brought in one wood-chuck
and a few gray squirrels.”

“Ah! the game is becoming hard to find, indeed,
Judge, with your clearings and betterments,”
said the old hunter, with a kind of disdainful resignation.
“The time has been, when I have

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shot thirteen deer, without counting the fa'ns,
standing in the door of my own hut;—and for
bear's meat, if one wanted a ham or so from the
cretur, he had only to watch a-nights, and he
could shoot one by moonlight, through the cracks
of the logs; no fear of his over-sleeping himself,
n'ither, for the howling of the wolves was sartin
to keep his eyes open. There's old Hector,”—
patting with affection a tall hound, of black and
yellow spots, with white belly and legs, that just
then came in on the scent, accompanied by the
slut he had mentioned; “see where the wolves bit
his throat, the night I druve them from the venison
I was smoking on the chimbly top—that dog is
more to be trusted nor many a Christian man; for
he never forgets a friend, and loves the hand that
gives him bread.”

There was a peculiarity in the manner of the
hunter, that struck the notice of the young female,
who had been a close and interested observer of
his appearance and equipments, from the moment
he first came into view. He was tall, and so meagre
as to make him seem above even the six feet
that he actually stood in his stockings. On his
head, which was thinly covered with lank, sandy
hair, he wore a cap made of fox-skin, resembling
in shape the one we have already described, although
much inferior in finish and ornaments. His
face was skinny, and thin almost to emaciation;
but yet bore no signs of disease;—on the contrary,
it had every indication of the most robust and
enduring health. The cold and the exposure had,
together, given it a colour of uniform red; his
gray eyes were glancing under a pair of shaggy
brow, that overhung them in long hairs of gray
mingled with their natural hue; his scraggy neck
was bare, and burnt to the same tint with his face;
though a small part of a shirt collar, made of

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the country check, was to be seen above the
over-dress he wore. A kind of coat, made of
dressed deer-skin, with the hair on, was belted
close to his lank body, by a girdle of coloured
worsted. On his feet were deer-skin moccasins,
ornamented with porcupines' quills, after the manner
of the Indians, and his limbs were guarded
with long leggings of the same material as the
moccasins, which, gartering over the knees of his
tarnished buck-skin breeches, had obtained for
him, among the settlers, the nick-name of Leather-stocking,
notwithstanding his legs were protected
beneath, in winter, by thick garments of woollen,
duly made of good blue yarn. Over his left
shoulder was slung a belt of deer-skin, from which
depended an enormous ox horn, so thinly scraped,
as to discover the dark powder that it contained.
The larger end was fitted ingeniously and securely
with a wooden bottom, and the other was stopped
tight by a little plug. A leathern pouch hung
before him, from which, as he concluded his last
speech, he took a small measure, and, filling it
accurately with powder, he commenced reloading
the rifle, which, as its butt rested on the snow
before him, reached nearly to the top of his fox-skin
cap.

The traveller had been closely examining the
wounds during these movements, and now, without
heeding the ill humour of the hunter's manner,
exclaimed—

“I would fain establish a right, Natty, to the
honour of this capture; and surely if the hit in the
neck be mine, it is enough; for the shot in the
heart was unnecessary—what we call an act of
supererogation, Leather-stocking.”

“You may call it by what larned name you
please, Judge,” said the hunter, throwing his rifle
across his left arm, and knocking up a brass lid

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[figure description] Page 013.[end figure description]

in the breech, from which he took a small piece of
greased leather, and wrapping a ball in it forced
them down by main strength on the powder,
where he continued to pound them while speaking.
“It's far easier to call names, than to shoot
a buck on the spring; but the cretur come by his
end from a younger hand than 'ither your'n or
mine, as I said before.”

“What say you, my friend,” cried the traveller,
turning pleasantly to Natty's companion; “shall
we toss up this dollar for the honour, and you
keep the silver if you lose -what say you, friend?”

“That I killed the deer,” answered the young
man, with a little haughtiness, as he leaned on
another long rifle. similar to that of Natty's.

“Here are two to one, indeed,” replied the
Judge, with a smile; “I am out-voted—overruled,
as we say on the bench. There is Aggy,
he can't vote. being a slave; and Bess is a minor—
so I must even make the best of it. But you'll
sell me the venison; and the deuse is in it, but I
make a good story about its death.”

“The meat is none of mine to sell,” said Leather-stocking,
adopting a little of his companion's
hauteur; “for my part, I have known animals travel
days with shots in the neck, and I'm none of
them who'll rob a man of his rightful dues.”

“You are tenacious of your rights, this cold
evening, Natty,” returned the Judge, with unconquerable
good nature; “but what say you, young
man, will three dollars pay you for the buck?”

“First let us determine the question of right to
the satisfaction of us both,” said the youth, firmly
but respectfully, and with a pronunciation and
language vastly superior to his appearance; “with
how many shot did you load your gun?”

“With five, sir,” said the Judge, gravely, a

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little struck with the other's manner; “are they
not enough to slay a buck like this?”

“One would do it; but,” moving to the tree
from behind which he had appeared, “you know,
sir, you fired in this direction—here are four of
the bullets in the tree.”

The Judge examined the fresh marks in the
rough bark of the pine, and, shaking his head,
said with a laugh—

“You are making out the case against yourself,
my young advocate—where is the fifth?”

“Here,” said the youth, throwing aside the
rough over-coat that he wore, and exhibiting a
hole in his under garment, through which large
drops of blood were oozing.

“Good God!” exclaimed the Judge, with horror;
“have I been trifling here about an empty
distinction, and a fellow-creature suffering from
my hands without a murmur? But hasten—quick—
get into my sleigh—it is but a mile to the village,
where surgical aid can be obtained;—all
shall be done at my expense, and thou shalt live
with me until thy wound is healed—ay, and for
ever afterwards, too.”

“I thank you, sir, for your good intentions, but
must decline your offer. I have a friend who would
be uneasy were he to hear that I am hurt and
away from him. The injury is but slight, and the
bullet has missed the bones; but I believe, sir,
you will now admit my title to the veuison.”

“Admit it!” repeated the agitated Judge; “I
here give thee a right to shoot deer, or bears, or
any thing thou pleasest in my woods, for ever.
Leather-stocking is the only other man that I
have granted the same privilege to; and the time
is coming when it will be of value. But I buy
your deer—here, this bill will pay thee, both for
thy shot and my own.”

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[figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]

The old hunter gathered his tall person up into
an air of pride, during this dialogue, and now
muttered in an under tone—

“There's them living who say, that Nathaniel
Bumppo's right to shoot in these hills, is of older
date than Marmaduke Temple's right to forbid
him. But if there's a law about it at all, though
who ever heard tell of a law, that a man should'nt
kill deer where he pleased!—but if there is a law
at all, it should be to keep people from the use of
them smooth-bores. A body never knows where
his lead will fly, when he pulls the trigger of one
of them fancified fire-arms.”

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

“Excuse me, sir, I have need of the venison.”

“But this will buy you many deer,” said the
judge; “take it, I entreat you,” and lowering his
voice to nearly a whisper, he added—“it is for a
hundred dollars.”

For an instant only, the youth seemed to hesitate,
and then, blushing even through the high colour
that the cold had given to his cheeks, as if
with inward shame at his own weakness, he again
proudly declined the offer.

During this scene the female arose, and, regardless
of the cold air, she threw back the hood which
concealed her features, and now spoke, with great
earnestness—

“Surely, surely—young man—sir—you would
not pain my father so much, as to have him think
that he leaves a fellow-creature in this wilderness,
whom his own hand has injured. I entreat you
will go with us, and receive medical aid for your
hurts.”

Whether his wound became more painful, or
there was something irresistible in the voice and

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manner of the fair pleader for her father's feelings,
we know not, but the haughty distance of
the young man's manner was sensibly softened by
this appeal, and he stood, in apparent doubt, as
if reluctant to comply with, and yet unwilling to
refuse her request. The judge, for such being
his office, must, in future, be his title, watched,
with no little interest, the display of this singular
contention in the feelings of the youth, and advancing,
kindly took his hand, and, as he pulled him
gently towards the sleigh, urged him to enter it.

“There is no human aid nearer than Templeton,”
he said; “and the hut of Natty is full three
miles from this;—come—come, my young friend,
go with us, and let the new doctor look to this
shoulder of thine. Here is Natty will take the
tidings of thy welfare to thy friend; and should'st
thou require it, thou shalt be returned to thy
home in the morning.”

The young man succeeded in extricating his
hand from the warm grasp of the judge, but continued
to gaze on the face of the female, who, regardless
of the cold was still standing with her
fine features exposed, which expressed feelings
that eloquently seconded the request of her father.
Leather-stocking stood, in the mean time, leaning
upon his long rifle, with his head turned a little
to one side, as if engaged in deep and sagacious
musing; when, having apparently satisfied
his doubts, by revolving the subject in his mind,
he broke silence—

“It may be best to go, lad, after all; for if the
shot hangs under the skin, my hand is getting too
old to be cutting into human flesh, as I once used
to could. Though some thirty years agone, in the
old war, when I was out under Sir William, I travelled
seventy miles alone in the howling wilderness,
with a rifle bullet in my thigh, and then cut it out

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[figure description] Page 017.[end figure description]

with my own jack-knife. Old Indian John knows
the time well. I met him with a party of the
Delawares, on the trail of the Iroquois, who had
been down and taken five scalps on the Schoharie.
ButI made a mark on the red-skin that I'll warrant
he carried to his grave. I took him on his posteerum,
saving the lady's presence, as he got up from
the amboosh, and rattled three buck shot into his
naked hide, so close, that you might have laid a
broad joe upon them all—” here Natty stretched
out his long neck, and straightened his body, as
he opened his mouth, which exposed a single tusk
of yellow bone, while his eyes, his face, even his
whole frame, seemed to laugh, although no sound
was emitted, except a kind of thick hissing, as he
inhaled his breath in quavers. “I had lost my
bullet mould in crossing the Oneida outlet, and so
had to make shift with the buck shot; but the rifle
was true, and did'nt scatter like your two-legged
thing there, Judge, which don't do, I find, to hunt
in company with.”

Natty's apology to the delicacy of the young lady
was unnecessary, for, while he was speaking, she
was too much employed in helping her father to
remove certain articles of their baggage to hear
him. Unable to resist the kind urgency of the
travellers any longer, the youth, though still with
an unaccountable reluctance expressed in his manner,
suffered himself to be persuaded to enter the
sleigh. The black with the aid of his master threw
the buck across the baggage, and entering the
vehicle themselves, the judge invited the hunter to
do so likewise.

“No—no—” said the old man, shaking his
head; “I have work to do at home this Christmas
eve—drive on with the boy, and let your doctor
look to the shoulder; though if he will only cut out
the shot, I have yarbs that will heal the wound

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[figure description] Page 018.[end figure description]

quicker nor all his foreign 'intments.” He turned
and was about to move off, when, suddenly recollecting
himself, he again faced the party, and added—
“If you see any thing of Indian John about
the foot of the lake, you had better take him with
you, and let him lend the doctor a hand; for old
as he is, he is curous at cuts and bruises, and it's
likelier than not he'll be in with brooms to sweep
your Christmas ha'arths.”

“Stop—stop,” cried the youth, catching the
arm of the black as he prepared to urge his horses
forward; “Natty—you need say nothing of the
shot, nor of where I am going—remember, Natty,
as you love me.”

“Trust old Leather-stocking,” returned the
hunter, significantly; “he has'nt lived forty years
in the wilderness, and not larnt from the savages
how to hold his tongue—trust to me, lad; and remember
old Indian John.”

“And, Natty,” said the youth eagerly, still
holding the black by the arm, “I will just get the
shot extracted, and bring you up, to-night, a quarter
of the buck, for the Christmas dinner.”

He was interrupted by the hunter, who held
up his finger with an expressive gesture for silence,
and moved softly along the margin of the road,
keeping his eyes steadfastly fixed on the branches
of a pine near him. When he had obtained such
a position as he wished, he stopped, and cocking
his rifle, threw one leg far behind him, and stretching
his left arm to its utmost extent along the barrel
of his piece, he began slowly to raise its muzzle
in a line with the straight trunk of the tree. The
eyes of the group in the sleigh naturally preceded
the movement of the rifle, and they soon discovered
the object of Natty's aim. On a small dead
branch of the pine, which, at the distance of seventy
feet from the ground, shot out horizontally,

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[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]

immediately beneath the living members of the tree,
sat a bird, that in the vulgar language of the
country, was indiscriminately called a pheasant
or a partridge. In size, it was but little smaller
than a common barn-yard fowl. The baying of
the dogs, and the conversation that had passed near
the root of the tree on which it was perched, had
alarmed the bird, which was now drawn up near,
the body of the pine, with a head and neck erect,
that formed nearly a straight line with its legs.
So soon as the rifle bore on the victim, Natty drew
his trigger, and the partridge fell from its height
with a force that buried it in the snow.

“Lie down, you old villain,” exclaimed Leather-stocking,
shaking his ramrod at Hector as
he bounded towards the foot of the tree, “lie
down, I say.” The dog obeyed, and Natty proceeded
with great rapidity, though with the nicest
accuracy, to re-load his piece. When this was
ended, he took up his game, and showing it to the
party without a head, he cried—“Here is a nice
tit-bit for an old man's Christmas—never mind
the venison, boy, and remember Indian John;
his yarbs are better nor all the foreign 'intments.
Here, Judge,” holding up the bird again, “do
you think a smooth-bore would pick game off their
roost, and not ruffle a feather?” The old man
gave another of his remarkable laughs, which partook
so largely of exultation, mirth, and irony,
and shaking his head, he turned, with his rifle at
a trail, and moved into the forest with short and
quick steps, that were between a walk and a trot.
At each movement that he made his body lowered
several inches, his knees yielding with an inclination
inward; but as the sleigh turned at a bend in
the road, the youth cast his eyes in quest of his old
companion, and he saw that he was already nearly
concealed by the trunks of the trees, while his dogs

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were following quietly in his footsteps, occasionally
scenting the deer track, that they seemed to
know instinctively was now of no farther use to
them. Another jerk was given to the sleigh, and
Leather-stocking was hidden from view.

-- 021 --

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.

[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

An ancestor of Marmaduke Temple had, about
one hundred and twenty years before the commencement
of our tale, come to the colony of Pennsylvania,
a friend and co-religionist of its great
patron. Old Marmaduke, for this formidable prenomen
was a kind of appellative to the race, brought
with him to that asylum of the persecuted, an
abundance of the good things of this life. He
became the master of many thousands of acres of
uninhabited territory, and the supporter of many
a score of dependants. He lived greatly respected
for his piety, and not a little distinguished as
a sectary; was intrusted by his associates with
many important political stations; and died, just
in time to escape the knowledge of his own poverty.
It was his lot to share the fortune of most of
those who brought wealth with them into the new
settlements of the middle colonies.

The consequence of an emigrant into these
provinces was generally to be ascertained by the
number of his white servants or dependants, and
the nature of the public situations that he held.

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[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

Taking this rule as a guide, the ancestor of our
Judge must have been a man of no little note.

It is, however, a subject of curious inquiry at
the present day, to look into the brief records of
that early period, and observe how regular, and
with few exceptions how inevitable, were the gradations,
on the one hand, of the masters to poverty,
and on the other, of their servants to wealth.
Accustomed to ease, and unequal to the struggles
incident to an infant society, the affluent emigrant
was barely enabled to maintain his own rank, by
the weight of his personal superiority and acquirements;
but the moment that his head was laid
in the grave, his indolent, and comparatively uneducated
offspring, were compelled to yield precedency
to the more active energies of a class,
whose exertions had been stimulated by necessity.
This is a very common course of things, even in
the present state of the Union; but it was peculiarly
the fortunes of the two extremes of society, in
the peaceful and unenterprising colonies of Pennsylvania
and New-Jersey.

The posterity of Marmaduke did not escape the
common lot of those, who depended rather on
their hereditary possessions than on their own
powers; and in the third generation, they had
descended to a point, below which, in this happy
country, it is barely possible for honesty, intellect,
and sobriety, to fall. The same pride of family,
that had, by its self-satisfied indolence, conduced
to aid their fall, now became a principle to stimulate
them to endeavour to rise again. The feeling,
from being morbid, was changed to a healthful
and active desire to emulate the character, the
condition, and, peradventure, the wealth, of their
ancestors also. It was the father of our new acquaintance,
the Judge, who first began to re-ascend
the scale of society; and in this undertaking he

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[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

was not a little assisted by a marriage that he
formed, which aided greatly in furnishing the
means of educating his only son, in a rather better
manner than the low state of the common
schools in Pennsylvania could promise; or than
had been the practice in the family, for the two or
three preceding generations.

At the school where the reviving prosperity of
his father was enabled to maintain him, young
Marmaduke formed an intimacy with a youth,
whose years were about equal to his own. This
was a fortunate connexion for our judge, and paved
the way to most of his future elevation in life,
when the early inclination for each other in the
boys was matured into friendship.

There was not only great wealth, but high court
interest, amongst the connexions of Edward Effingham.
They were one of the very few families,
then resident in the colonies, who thought it a degradation
to its members to descend to the pursuits
of commerce; and who never emerged from the
privacy of their domestic life, unless to preside in
the councils of the colony, or to bear arms in her
defence. The latter had, from youth to approaching
age, been the only employment of Edward's
father. Military rank, under the crown of Great
Britain, was, sixty years ago, attained with much
longer probation, and by much more toilsome services,
than at the present time. Years were passed,
without murmuring, in the subordinate grades
of the service; and those soldiers who were stationed
in the colonies, felt, when they obtained the
command of a company, that they were entitled to
receive the greatest deference from the peaceful
occupants of the soil. Any one of our readers,
who, in a visit to the falls, has occasion to cross
the Niagara, by spending a day at Newark, may
easily observe, not only the self-importance, but

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[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

the real estimation enjoyed by the humblest representative
of the crown, even in that polar region
of royal sunshine. Such, and at no very distant
period was the respect paid to the military in these
States, where now, happily, no symbol of war is
ever seen, unless at the free and fearless voice of
their people. When, therefore, the father of Marmaduke's
friend after forty years' service, retired
with the rank of Major, maintaining in his domestic
establishment a comparative splendour, it is not
to be doubted but that he became a man of the
first consideration in his native colony—which was
that of New-York. He had served with fidelity
and courage, and, having been, according to the
custom of the provinces, entrusted with commands
much superior to those to which he was entitled by
rank, with reputation also. When Major Effingham
yielded to the claims of age, he retired with
dignity, refusing his half-pay or any other compensation
for services, that he felt he could no longer
perform. The ministry proffered to his acceptance
various civil offices, which yielded not
only honour but profit; but he declined them all,
with the chivalrous independence and loyalty that
had marked his character through life. The veteran
soon caused this act of patriotic disinterestedness
to be followed by another of private munificence,
that, however little it accorded with prudence,
was in perfect conformity with the simple
integrity of his own views. The friend of Marmaduke
was his only child; and to this son on his
marriage with a lady to whom the father was particularly
partial, the Major gave a complete conveyance
of his whole estate, consisting of moneys
in the funds, a town and country residence, sundry
valuable farms in the old parts of the colony, and
large tracts of wild land in the new;—in this manner
throwing himself upon the filial piety of his
child for his own future maintenance. Major

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[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

Effingham, in declining the liberal offers of the
British ministry, had subjected himself to the suspicion
of having attained his dotage, by all those
who throng the avenues to court patronage, even
in the remotest corners of that vast empire; but,
when he thus voluntarily stript himself of his great
personal wealth, the remainder of the community
seemed instinctively to adopt the conclusion also,
that he had reached a second childhood. This
may explain the fact of his importance rapidly declining;
and, if privacy was his object, the veteran
had soon a free indulgence of his wishes.
Whatever views the world might entertain of this
act of the Major, to himself and to his child, it
seemed no more than a natural gift by a father,
of those immunities which he could no longer enjoy
or improve, to a son, who was formed, both by
nature and education, to do both. The younger
Effingham did not object to the amount of the
donation; for he felt, that while his parent reserved a
moral control over his actions, he was relieving
himself from a fatiguing burthen: such, indeed,
was the confidence existing between them, that to
neither did it seem any thing more, than removing
money from one pocket to another.

One of the first acts of the young man, on coming
into possession of his wealth, was to seek his
early friend, with a view to offer any assistance,
that it was now in his power to bestow.

The death of Marmaduke's father, and the consequent
division of his small estate, rendered such
an offer extremely acceptable to the young Pennsylvanian:
he felt his own powers, and saw, not
only the excellences, but the foibles in the character
of his friend. Effingham was by nature indolent,
confiding, and at times impetuous and indiscreet;
but Marmaduke was uniformly equable,
penetrating, and full of activity and enterprise.

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[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

To the latter, therefore, the assistance, or rather
connexion, that was proffered to him, seemed to
promise a mutual advantage. It was cheerfully
accepted, and the arrangement of its conditions left
entirely to the dictates of his own judgment. A
mercantile house was established in the metropolis
of pennsylvania, with the avails of Mr. Effingham's
personal property; all, or nearly all, of
which was put into the possession of Temple, who
was the only ostensible proprietor in the concern,
while in secret, the other was entitled to an equal
participation in the profits. This connexion was
thus kept private for two reasons; one of which,
in the freedom of their intercourse, was frankly
avowed to Marmaduke, while the other continued
profoundly hid in the bosom of his friend. The
last was nothing more than pride. To the descendant
of a line of soldiers, commerce, even in
that indirect manner, seemed a degrading pursuit;
and every sentiment of young Effingham was opposed
to the acknowledgment of an arrangement,
which he only reconciled to his private feelings by a
knowledge of his own motives—but an insuperable
obstacle to the disclosure existed in the prejudices
of his father.

We have already said that Major Effingham
had served as a soldier, with reputation. On one
occasion, while in command on the western frontier
of Pennsylvania, against a league of the French
and Indians, not only his glory, but the safety of
himself and his troops were jeoparded, by the
peaceful policy of that colony. To the soldier, this
was an unpardonable offence. He was fighting in
their defence only—he knew that the mild principles
of this little nation of practical christians
would be disregarded by their subtle and malignant
enemies; and he felt the injury the more
deeply, because he saw that the avowed object of

-- 027 --

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

the colonists, in withholding their succours, would
only have a tendency to expose his command,
without preserving the peace. The gallant soldier
succeeded after a desperate conflict, in extricating
himself with a handful of his men, from
their murderous enemy; but he never forgave the
people who had exposed him to a danger, which
they left him to combat alone. It was in vain to
tell him, that they had no agency in his being placed
on their frontier at all; it was evidently for
their benefit that he had been so placed, and it
was their “religious duty,” so the Major always
expressed it; “it was their religious duty to have
supported him.”

At no time was the old soldier an admirer of the
peaceful disciples of Fox. Their disciplined habits,
both of mind and body, had endowed them
with great physical perfection; and the eye of the
veteran was apt to scan the fair proportions and
athletic frames of the colonists, with a look that
seemed to utter volumes of contempt for their moral
imbecility. He was also a little addicted to
the expression of a belief, that, where there was
so great an observance of the externals of religion,
there could not be much of the substance.—It is
not our task to explain what is, or ought to be the
substance of christianity, but merely to record in
this place the opinions of Major Effingham.

Knowing the sentiments of the father, in relation
to this people, it was no wonder that the son hesitated
to avow his connexion with nay, even his dependence
on the integrity of, a quaker.

It has been seen that Marmaduke deduced his
origin from the contemporaries and friends of Penn.
His father had married without the pale of the
church to which he belonged, and had, in this
manner, forfeited some of the privileges of his offspring.
Still, as young Marmaduke was educated

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[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

in a colony and society, where even the ordinary
intercourse between friends was tinctured with
the aspect of this mild religion, his habits and language
were somewhat marked by its peculiarities.
His own marriage at a future day with a lady without,
not only the pale, but the influence of this
sect of religionists, had a tendency, it is true, to
weaken his early impressions; still he retained
them, in some degree, to the hour of his death, and
was observed uniformly, when much interested or
agitated, to speak in the language of his youth—
But this is anticipating our tale.

When Marmaduke first became the partner of
young Effingham, he was quite the quaker in externals;
and it was too dangerous an experiment
for the son to think of encountering the prejudices
of the father on this subject. The connexion,
therefore, remained a profound secret to all but
those who were interested in it.

For a few years, Marmaduke directed the commercial
operations of his house with a prudence
and sagacity, that afforded rich returns for the labour
and hazard incurred. He married the lady
we have mentioned, who was the mother of Elizabeth,
and the visits of his friend were becoming
more frequent; and there was a speedy prospect
of removing the veil from their intercourse, as
its advantages became each hour more apparent
to Mr. Effingham, when the troubles that preceded
the war of the revolution, extended themselves to
an alarming degree.

Educated in the most dependent loyalty by his
father, Mr. Effingham had, from the commencement
of the disputes between the colonists and the
crown, warmly maintained, what he believed to
be, the just prerogatives of his prince; while, on
the other hand, the clear head and independent
mind of Temple had induced him to espouse the

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[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

cause of the people. Both might have been influenced
by early impressions; for, if the son of the
loyal and gallant soldier bowed in implicit obedience
to the will of his sovereign, the descendant of
the persecuted follower of Penn, looked back, with
a little bitterness, to the unmerited wrongs that had
been heaped upon his ancestors.

This difference in opinion had long been a subject
of amicable dispute between them, but, latterly,
the contest was getting to be too important
to admit of trivial discussions on the part of Marmaduke,
whose acute discernment was already
catching faint glimmerings of the important events
that were in embryo. The sparks of dissention
soon kindled into a blaze; and the colonies, or
rather, as they quickly declared themselves, the
states,
became a scene of strife and bloodshed
for years.

A short time before the battle of Lexington,
Mr. Effingham, already a widower, transmitted to
Marmaduke for safe keeping, all his valuable effects
and papers; and left the colony without his
father. The war had, however, scarcely commenced
in earnest, when he re-appeared in New-York,
wearing the livery of his king, and in a
short time, he took the field at the head of a provincial
corps. In the mean time, Marmaduke had
completely committed himself in the cause, as it
was then called, of the rebellion: of course all intercourse
between the friends ceased—on the part
of Col. Effingham, it was unsought, and on that of
Marmaduke, there was a cautious reserve. It
soon became necessary for the latter to abandon
the capital of Philadelphia; but he had taken the
precaution to remove to the interior the whole of
his effects, beyond the reach of the royal forces,
including the papers of his friend also. There he
continued serving his country during the struggle,

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in various civil capacities, and always with dignity
and usefulness. While, however, he discharged
his functions with credit and fidelity, Marmaduke
never seemed to lose sight of his own interests;
for, when the estates of the adherents of the crown
fell under the hammer, by the acts of confiscation,
he appeared in New-York, and became the purchaser
of extensive possessions, at, comparatively,
very low prices.

It is true that Marmaduke, by thus purchasing
estates that had been wrested by violence from
others, rendered himself obnoxious to the censures
of that sect, which, at the same time that it discards
its children from a full participation in the
family union, seems ever unwilling to abandon
them entirely to the world. But either his success,
or the frequency of the transgression in others,
soon wiped off this slight stain from his character:
and although there were a few, who, dissatisfied
with their own fortunes, or conscious of their
own demerits would make dark hints concerning
the sudden prosperity of the unportioned quaker,
yet his services and possibly his wealth, soon
drove the recollection of these vague conjectures
from men's minds.

When the war was ended, and the independence
of the states acknowledged, Mr. Temple turned
his attention from the pursuit of commerce, which
was then fluctuating and uncertain, to the settlement
of those tracts of land which he had purchased.
Aided by a good deal of money, and directed
by the suggestions of a strong and practical reason,
his enterprises throve to a degree, that the climate
and rugged face of the country which he selected,
would seem to forbid. His property increased
in a tenfold ratio, and he was already to be ranked
among the most wealthy and important of his
countrymen. To inherit this wealth, he had but

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[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

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.

-- 032 --

CHAPTER III.

All that thou see'st, is nature's handy work:
Those rocks that upward throw their mossy brows,
Like eastled pinnacles of elder times:
These venerable stems, that slowly rock
Their tow'ring branches in the wintry gale!
That field of frost, which glitters in the sun,
Mocking the whiteness of a marble breast:—
Yet man can mar such works with his rude taste,
Like some sad spoiler of a virgin's fame.
Duo.

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

Some little while elapsed, after the horses had
resumed their journey, ere Marmaduke Temple
was sufficiently recovered from his agitation, to
scan the person of his new companion. He now
observed, that he was a youth of some two or
three and twenty years of age; and rather above
the middle height. Further observation was prevented
by the rough over-coat, which was belted
close to his form by a worsted sash, much like
the one worn by the old hunter. The eyes of the
Judge, after resting a moment on the figure of the
stranger, were raised to a scrutiny of his countenance.
There had been a contraction of the
brows, and a look of care, visible in the features
of the youth, when he first entered the sleigh, that
had not only attracted the notice of Elizabeth,
but which she had been much puzzled to interpret.
The passion seemed the strongest when he
was enjoining his old companion to secrecy; and
when he had decided, and was, rather passively,
suffering himself to be conveyed to the village, the
expression of the young man's eyes by no means
indicated any great degree of self-satisfaction at

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[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

the step. But the lines of an uncommonly prepossessing
countenance were gradually becoming
composed; and he now sate in silent and, apparently,
abstracted musing. The Judge gazed at
him for some time with earnestness, and then smiling
as if at his own forgetfulness, he spoke—

“I believe, my young friend, that terror has
driven your name from my recollection—your
face is very familiar to me, and yet for the honour
of a score of buck's-tails in my cap, I could not
tell your name.”

“I came into the county but three weeks since,
sir,” returned the youth coldly, “and, I understand
you have been absent more than that time.”

“It will be five to-morrow. Yet your face is
one that I have seen; though it would not be
strange, such has been my affright, should I see
thee in thy winding-sheet, walking by my bed-side,
to-night. What say'st thou Bess? Am I
compos mentis or not?—Fit to charge a grand jury.
or, what is just now of more pressing necessity,
able to do the honours of a Christmas-eve, in the
hall of Templeton?”

“More able to do either, my dear father,”
said a playful voice from under the ample enclosures
of the hood, “than to kill deer with a smooth-bore.”
A short pause followed; and the same
voice, but in a different accent continued—“We
shall have good reasons for our thanksgivings to-night,
on more accounts than one.”

A slightly scornful smile passed over the features
of the youth, at the archness of the first part
of this speech; but it instantly vanished, as he listened
to the tremulous tones in which it was concluded.
The Judge, also, seemed to be affected
with the consciousness of how narrowly he had escaped
taking the life of a fellow-creature, and for
some time, there was a dead silence in the sleigh.

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The horses soon reached a point, where they
seemed to know by instinct that their journey was
nearly ended, and, bearing on the bits, as they
tossed their heads, uneasily, up and down, they
rapidly drew the sleigh over the level land, which
lay on the top of the mountain, and soon came to
the point where the road descended suddenly, but
circuitously, into the valley.

The Judge was roused from his reflections,
when he saw the four columns of dense smoke,
which floated along the air from his own chimneys.
As house, village, and valley burst on his
sight. he exclaimed cheerfully to his daughter—

“See, Bess, there is thy resting-place for life!
And thine too, young man, if thou wilt consent to
dwell with us.”

The eyes of the youth and maiden involuntarily
met, as the Judge, in the warmth of his feelings,
thus included them in an association which was
to endure so long; and if the deepening colour,
that, notwithstanding her hood, might be seen
gathering over the face even to the forehead of
Elizabeth, was contradicted in its language by the
proud expression of her eye, the scornful but covert
smile that again played about the lips of the
stranger, seemed equally to deny the probability
of his consenting to form one of this family group.
The scene was one, however, which might easily
warm a heart less given to philanthropy than that
of Marmaduke Temple.

The side of the mountain, on which our travellers
were journeying, though not absolutely
perpendicular, was yet so steep as to render great
care necessary in descending the rude and narrow
path, which, in that early day, wound along
the precipices. The negro reined in his impatient
steeds, and time was given to Elizabeth to
dwell on a sceue which was so rapidly altering

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[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

under the hands of man, that it only resembled,
in its outlines, the picture she had so often studied,
with delight, in her childhood. On the right, and
stretching for several miles to the north, lay a narrow
plain, buried among mountains, which, falling
occasionally, jutted in long low points, that were
covered with tall trees, into the valley; and then
again, for miles, stretched their lofty brows perpendicularly
along its margin, nourishing in the
crags that formed their sides, pines and hemlocks
thinly interspersed with chesnut and beech, which
grew in lines nearly parallel to the mountains
themselves. The dark foliage of the evergreens
was brilliantly contrasted by the glittering whiteness
of the plain, which exhibited, over the tops
of the trees, and through the vistas formed by the
advancing points of the hills, a single sheet of unspotted
snow, relieved occasionally by a few small
dark objects that were discovered, as they were passing
directly beneath the feet of the travellers, to be
sleighs moving in various directions. On the western
border of the plain, the mountains, though equally
high, were less precipitous, and as they receded,
opened into irregular valleys and glens, and were
formed into terraces and hollows that admitted of
cultivation. Although the evergreens still held dominion
over many of the hills that rose on this
side of the valley, yet the undulating outlines of
the distant mountains, covered with forests of beech
and maple, gave a relief to the eye, and the promise
of a kinder soil. Occasionally, spots of white
were discoverable amidst the forests of the opposite
hills, that announced, by the smoke which
curled over the tops of the trees, the habitations
of man, and the commencement of agriculture.
These spots were sometimes, by the aid of united
labour enlarged into what were called settlements;
but more frequently were small and insulated;

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though so rapid were the changes, and so persevering
the labours of those who had cast their fortunes
on the success of the enterprise, that it was
not difficult for the imagination of Elizabeth to
conceive they were enlarging under her eye,
while she was gazing, in mute wonder, at the alterations
that a few short years had made in the aspect
of the country. The points on the western
side of the plain were both larger and more numerous
than those on its eastern, and one in particular
thrust itself forward in such a manner,
as to form beautifully curved bays of snow on either
side. On its extreme end a mighty oak
stretched forward, as if to overshadow, with its
branches, a spot which its roots were forbidden
to enter. It had released itself from the
thraldom, that a growth of centuries had imposed
on the branches of the surrounding forest trees,
and threw its gnarled and fantastic arms abroad,
in all the wildness of unrestrained liberty. A
dark spot of a few acres in extent at the southern
extremity of this beautiful flat, and immediately
under the feet of our travellers, alone showed, by
its rippling surface, and the vapours which exhaled
from it, that what at first might seem a plain, was
one of the mountain lakes, locked in the frosts of
winter. A narrow current rushed impetuously
from its bosom at the open place we have mentioned,
and might be traced for a few miles, as it
wound its way towards the south through the real
valley, by its borders of hemlock and pine, and
by the vapour which arose from its warmer surface
into the chill atmosphere of the hills. The
banks of this lovely basin, at its outlet. or southern
end, were steep but not high; and in that direction
the land continued for many miles a narrow
but level plain, along which the settlers had
scattered their humble habitations, with a

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[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

profusion that bespoke the quality of the soil, and the
comparative facilities of intercourse. Immediately
on the bank of the lake, stood the village
of Templeton. It consisted of about fifty buildings,
including those of every description, chiefly
built of wood, and which, in their architecture,
bore not only strong marks of the absence of taste,
but also, by the slovenly and unfinished appearance
of most of the dwellings, indicated the
hasty manner of their construction. To the eye,
they presented a variety of colours. A few were
white in both front and rear, but more bore that
expensive colour on their fronts only, while their
economical but ambitious owners had covered
the remaining sides of their edifices with a dingy
red. One or two were slowly assuming the russet
of age; while the uncovered beams that were
to be seen through the broken windows of their
second stories, showed, that either the taste, or the
vanity of their proprietors, had led them to undertake
a task which they were unable to accomplish.
The whole were grouped together in a manner
that aped the streets of a city, and were evidently
so arranged, by the directions of one, who looked
far ahead to the wants of posterity, rather than
to the convenience of the present incumbents.
Some three or four of the better sort of buildings,
in addition to the uniformity of their colour, were
fitted with green blinds, that were rather strangely
contrasted to the chill aspect of the lake, the
mountains, the forests, and the wide fields of snow.
Before the doors of these pretending dwellings,
were placed a few saplings either without
branches, or possessing only the feeble shoots
of one or two summers' growth, that looked not
unlike tall grenadiers on post, near the threshold of
princes. In truth, the occupants of these favoured
habitations were the nobles of Templeton, as

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[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

Marmaduke was its king. They were the dwellings
of two young men who were cunning in the law; an
equal number of that class who chaffered to supply
the wants of the community, under the significant
title of store-keepers; and a disciple of ÆÆsculapius,
who, for a novelty, brought more subjects into
the world than he sent out of it. In the midst
of this incongruous group of dwellings, rose the
mansion of the Judge, towering proudly above all
its neighbours. It stood in the centre of an enclosure
that included several acres, which were
covered with fruit-trees. Some of these were of
Indian origin, and began already to assume the
moss and inclination of age, therein forming a
very marked contrast to the infant plantations that
peered over most of the picketed fences in the
village. In addition to this show of cultivation,
were two rows of young poplars, a tree but lately
introduced into America, formally lining either
side of a pathway, which led from a gate, that
opened on the principal street, to the front door
of the building. The house itself had been built
entirely under the superintendence of a Mr. Richard
Jones, whom we have already mentioned, and
who, from a certain cleverness in small matters,
and his willingness to exert his talents, added
to the circumstance of their being sisters' children,
ordinarily superintended all the minor
concerns of Marmaduke Temple's business. Richard
was fond of saying, that this child of his
invention, consisted of nothing more nor less, than
what should form the ground work of a clergyman's
discourse; viz. a firstly, and a lastly. He
had commenced his labours in the first year of
their residence, by erecting a tall, gaunt edifice
of wood, with its gable towards the highway. In
this shelter, for it was but little more, the family
resided for three years. By the end of that

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[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

period, Richard had completed his design. He had
availed himself, in this heavy undertaking, of the
experience of a certain wandering, eastern mechanic,
who, by exhibiting a few solid plates of
English architecture, and talking learnedly of
friezes, entablatures, and particularly of the composite
order, had obtained a very undue influence
over Richard's taste, in every thing that pertained
to that branch of the fine arts. Not but
what Mr. Jones affected to consider Mr. Hiram
Doolittle a perfect empyric in his profession; being
in the constant habit of listening to his treatises
on architecture, with a kind of indulgent
smile, yet, either from an inability to oppose
them by any thing plausible from his own stores
of learning, or from a secret admiration of their
truth, Richard generally submitted to the arguments
of his coadjutor. Together, they had not
only erected a dwelling for Marmaduke, but had
given a fashion to the architecture of the country.
The composite order, Mr. Doolittle would contend,
was an order composed of many others, and
was intended to be the most useful, for it admitted
into its construction such alterations as convenience
or circumstances might require. To this
proposition Richard very gravely assented; and
it was by this unison in sentiment that the composite
order, or a style of architecture that emanated
from the carpenter's own genius, with a few
suggestions from the other, became the fashion of
the new county.

The house itself, or the “lastly,” was of stone;
large, square, formal, and far from uncomfortable.
These were four requisites, on which Marmaduke
had insisted with a little more than his ordinary
pertinacity. But every thing else was peaceably
resigned to Richard and his associate. These
worthies found but little opportunity for the

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[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

display of their talents on a stone edifice, excepting
in the roof and in the porch. The former, it was
soon decided, should be made with four faces and
a platform, in order to hide a part of the building
that all writers agreed was an object that ought
to be concealed. To this arrangement, Marmaduke
objected the heavy snows that lay for
months, frequently covering the earth to a depth
of three or four feet. Happily, the facilities of
the composite order presented themselves to effect
a compromise, and the rafters were lengthened, so
as to give a descent that should carry off the frozen
element. But unluckily, some mistake was
made in the admeasurement of these material
parts of the fabric, and as one of the greatest recommendations
of Hiram, was his ability to work
by the “square rule,” no opportunity was found
of discovering the effect that was to be produced
by this offspring of compound genius, until the
massive timbers were raised, with much labour, on
the four walls of the building. Then, indeed, it
was soon seen, that, in defiance of all rule, the
roof was by far the most conspicuous part of the
edifice. Richard and his associate consoled themselves
with the belief, that the covering would aid
in concealing this unnatural elevation; but every
shingle that was laid, was only multiplying objects
to look at. Richard essayed to remedy the evil
with paint, and four different colours were laid on
by his own hands. The first was a sky-blue, in
the vain expectation that the eye might be cheated
into the belief, it was the heavens themselves
that hung so imposingly over Marmaduke's dwelling;
the second was, what he called, a “cloud-colour,”
being nothing more nor less than an imitation
of light smoke; the third was what Richard
termed an invisible green, which he laid on
with a belief, that the deformity might be blended

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[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

with the back-ground of pines, that rose, in tall
grandeur, but a short distance in the rear of the
mansion house. But all these ingenious expedients
entirely failed, and our artists relinquished the
desire to conceal, and attempted to ornament, the
offensive member. The last colour that Richard
bestowed on the luckless roof, was a “sun-shiny
yellow;” so called, both from its resemblance to,
and its powers to resist, the rays of the great luminary.
The platform, as well as the eves of the
house, were surmounted by gaudily painted railings,
and the genius of Hiram was exerted in the
fabrication of divers urns and mouldings, that
were scattered profusely around this part of their
labours. Richard had originally a cunning expedient,
by which the chimneys were intended to be
so low, and so situated, as to resemble ornaments
on the balustrades; but comfort required that the
chimneys should rise with the roof, in order that
the smoke might be carried off, and they thus became
four extremely conspicuous objects in the
view.

As this was much the most important undertaking
in which Mr. Jones was ever engaged, his failure
produced a correspondent degree of mortification.
At first, he whispered among his acquaintances,
that it all proceeded from ignorance of the
square rule on the part of Hiram, but as his eye
became gradually accustomed to the object, he
grew better satisfied with his labours, and instead
of apologizing for the defects, he commenced
praising the beauties of the mansion house. He
soon found hearers; and, as wealth and comfort
are at all times attractive, it was made a model for
imitation on a small scale. In less than two years
from its erection, he had the pleasure of standing
on the elevated platform, and of looking down on
three humble imitators of its beauty,—Thus it is

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[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

ever with fashion, which even renders the faults of
the great, subjects of admiration.

Marmaduke bore this deformity in his dwelling
with great good nature, and soon contrived, by his
own improvements, to give an air both of respectability
and comfort to his place of residence;
still there was much of incongruity, even immediately
about the mansion house. Although poplars
had been brought from Europe to ornament
the grounds, and willows and other trees were gradually
springing up nigh the dwelling, yet many a
pile of snow betrayed the presence of the stump
of a mighty pine; and even, in one or two instances,
unsightly remnants of trees that had been
partly destroyed by fire, were seen rearing their
black and glistening columns, for twenty or thirty
feet above the pure white of the snow. These,
which in the language of the country are termed
stubbs, abounded in the open fields adjacent
to the village, and were accompanied, occasionally,
by the ruin of a pine or a hemlock that had
been stripped of its bark, and which waved in
melancholy grandeur its naked limbs to the blast,
a skeleton of its former glory. But these unpleasant
additions to the view were unnoticed by the
delighted Elizabeth, who, as the horses slowly
moved down the side of the mountain, saw only in
gross, the cluster of houses that lay like a map at
her feet; the fifty smokes, that were diagonally
curling from the valley to the clouds; the frozen
lake, as it lay embedded in mountains of evergreen,
with the long shadows of the pines on its
white surface, lengthening in the setting sun;
the dark riband of water, that gushed from the
outlet, and was winding its way already, towards
the far distant Chesapeake—the altered,
though still remembered, scenes of her childhood
and of joy!

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[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

Five years had here wrought greater changes,
than a century would produce in older countries,
where time and labour have given permanency to
the works of man. To the young hunter and the
Judge the scene had less of novelty; though none
ever emerge from the dark forests of that mountain,
and witness the glorious scenery of that beauteous
valley, as it burst unexpectedly upon them,
without a feeling of delight. The former cast one
admiring glance from north to south, and then
sunk his face again beneath the folds of his coat;
while the latter contemplated, with philanthropic
pleasure, the prospect of affluence and comfort,
that was expanding around him; the result of his
own enterprise, and much of it, the fruits of his
own industry.

The cheerful sound of sleigh bells, however,
soon attracted the attention of the whole party, as
they came jingling up the sides of the mountain, at
a rate that announced both a powerful team and
a hard driver. The bushes which lined the highway
interrupted the view, and they were close
upon this vehicle, before they discovered who were
its occupants.

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CHAPTER IV.

How now? whose mare's dead? what's the matter?

Falstaff.

[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

A few minutes resolved whatever doubts our
travellers entertained, as to the description of
those who were approaching them with such exhilarating
sounds. A large lumber-sleigh, drawn
by four horses, was soon seen dashing through the
leafless bushes, which fringed the road that was
here, as on the other side of the mountain, cut
into the hill. The leaders were of gray, and the
pole-horses of a jet black. Bells, innumerable,
were suspended from every part of the harness,
where one of those tinkling balls could be placed;
while the rapid movement of the equipage, in defiance
of the steep ascent, announced the desire
of the driver to ring them to the utmost. The
first glance at this singular arrangement, satisfied
the Judge as to the character of those in the sleigh.
It contained four male figures. On one of those
stools that are used at writing desks, lashed firmly
to the sides of the vehicle, was seated a little man,
enveloped in a great coat fringed with fur, in such
a manner that no part of him was visible excepting
a face, of an unvarying red colour. There
was an habitual upward look about the head of
this gentleman, as if it were dissatisfied with the
proximity to the earth that nature had decreed in

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[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]

his stature, and the expression of his countenance
was that of busy care. He was the charioteer, and
he guided the mettled animals that he drove along
the precipice, with a fearless eye, and a steady
hand. Immediately behind him, with his face toward
the other two, was a tall figure, to whose appearance
not even the duplicate over-coats which
he wore, aided by the corner of a horse blanket,
could give the appearance of strength. His face
was protruding from beneath a woollen night-cap;
and when he turned to the vehicle of Marmaduke
as the sleighs approached each other, it seemed
formed by nature to cut the atmosphere with the
least possible resistance. The eyes alone appeared
to create an obstacle, as from either side
of his forehead their light, blue, glassy balls
projected. The sallow of his countenance was
a colour too permanent to be affected even by the
intense cold of the evening. Opposite to this personage,
sat a square figure of large proportions.
No part of his form was to be discovered through
his over dress, but a full face with an agreeable
expression, that was illuminated by a pair of animated
black eyes of a lurking look, that gave the
lie to every demure feature in his countenance.—
A fair, jolly wig furnished a neat and rounded outline
to his visage, and he, as well as the other
two, wore martin-skin caps as outward coverings
for their heads. The fourth, was a meek-looking,
long-visaged man, without any other protection
from the cold than that which was furnished by a
black surtout, made with some little formality, but
which was rather thread-bare and rusty. He wore
a hat of extremely decent proportions, though
frequent brushing had quite destroyed its nap.
His face was pale, with a little melancholy, but so
slightly expressed, as to leave the beholder in
doubt, whether it proceeded from mental or

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[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

bodily ailment. The air had given it, just now, a
slight and somewhat feverish flush. The character
of his whole appearance, especially contrasted
to the air of humour in his next companion, was
that of an habitual, but subdued dejection. No
sooner had the two sleighs approached within
speaking distance, than the driver of this fantastic
equipage shouted aloud—

“Draw up in the quarry—draw up, thou king of
the Greeks; draw into the quarry, Agamemnon,
or I shall never be able to pass you. Welcome
home, cousin 'duke—welcome, welcome my blackeyed
Bess. Thou seest, Marmaduke, that I have
taken the field with an assorted cargo, to do thee
honour. Monsieur Le Quoi has come out with
only one cap; Old Fritz would not stay to finish
the bottle; and Mr. Grant has got to put the “lastly”
to his sermon, yet. Even all the horses would
come—by-the-by, Judge, I must sell these blacks
for you, immediately; they both interfere, and
then the nigh one is a bad goer in double harness.
I can get rid of them to—”

“Sell what thou wilt, Dickon,” interrupted the
cheerful voice of the Judge, “so that thou leavest
me my daughter and my lands. Ah! Fritz, my
old friend, this is a kind compliment, indeed, for
seventy to pay to five and forty. Monsieur Le
Quoi, I am your servant. Mr. Grant,” lifting his
cap, “I feel indebted to your attention. Gentlemen,
I make you acquainted with my child.—
Yours are names with which she is very familiar.”

“Velcome, velcome, Tchooge,” said the elder
of the party, with a strong German accent. “Miss
Petsy vilt owe me a kiss.”

“And cheerfully will I pay it, my good sir,”
cried the soft voice of Elizabeth; which sounded
in the clear air of the hills, like tones of silver,

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amid the loud cries of Richard, and the manly
greetings of the gentleman. “I have always a
kiss for my old friend. Major Hartmann.”

By this time the gentleman on the front seat,
who had been addressed as Monsieur Le Quoi,
rose with some difficulty, owing to the impediment
of his over coats, and steadying himself by
placing one hand on the stool of the charioteer,
with the other, he removed his cap, and bowing
politely to the Judge, and profoundly to Elizabeth,
he said with a smile that opened a mouth of no
common dimensions—

“Ver velcome home, Monsieur Templ'. Ah!
Mam'selle Liz'bet, you ver humble sairvant.”

“Cover thy poll, Gaul, cover thy poll,” cried
the driver, who was Mr. Richard Jones; “cover
thy poll, or the frost will pluck out the remnant
of thy locks. Had the hairs on the head of Absalom
been as scarce as on this crown of thine, he
might have been living to this day.” The jokes
of Richard never failed of exciting risibility, for if
others were unbending, he uniformly did honour
to his own wit; and he enjoyed a hearty laugh on
the present occasion, while Mr. Le Quoi resumed
his seat with a polite reciprocation in his mirth.
The clergyman, for such was the office of Mr.
Grant, modestly, though quite affectionately, exchanged
his greetings with the travellers also, when
Richard prepared to turn the heads of his horses
homewards.

It was in the quarry alone that he could effect
this object, without ascending to the summit of the
mountain. A very considerable excavation had
been made into the side of the hill, at the point
where Richard had succeeded in stopping the
sleighs, from which the stones used for building in
the village, were ordinarily quarried, and in which
he now attempted to turn his team. Passing

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[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

itself, was a task of difficulty, and frequently of danger,
in that narrow road; but Richard had to
meet the additional risk of turning his four-in-hand.
The black very civilly volunteered his services to
take off the leaders, and the Judge very earnestly
seconded the measure, with his advice. Richard
treated the proposal with great disdain—

“Why, and wherefore, cousin 'duke,” he exclaimed
a little angrily; “the horses are as gentle
as lambs. You know that I broke the leaders
myself, and the pole-horses are too near my whip
to be restive. Here is Mr. Le Quoi, now, who
must know something about driving, because he
has rode out so often with me; I will leave it to
Mr. Le Quoi whether there is any danger.”

Thus appealed to, it was not in the nature of
the Frenchman to disappoint expectations that
were so confidently formed; although he sat looking
down the precipice which fronted him, as
Richard turned his leaders into the quarry, with
a pair of eyes that stood at least half-an-inch from
his visage. The German's muscles were unmoved,
but his quick sight scanned each movement
with an understanding expression, that blended
amusement at Richard's dilemma, with anxiety
at their situation. Mr. Grant placed his hands on
the side of the sleigh, in preparation for a spring,
but moral timidity deterred him from taking the
leap, that bodily apprehension strongly urged him
to attempt.

Richard, by a sudden application of his whip,
succeedeed in forcing his leaders into the snow-bank
that covered the quarry; but the instant that
the impatient animals suffered by the crust,
through which they broke at each step, they positively
refused to move an inch further in that direction.
On the contrary, finding that the cries
and blows of their driver were redoubled at this

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juncture, the leaders backed upon the pole-horses,
who, in their turn, backed the sleigh. Only a single
log lay above the pile which upheld the road,
on the side toward the valley, which was now buried
in the snow. The sleigh was easily forced
across this slight impediment; and before Richard
became conscious of his danger, one half of the vehicle
was projected over a precipice, which fell,
nearly perpendicularly, more than a hundred feet.
The Frenchman, who, by his position, had a full
view of their threatened flight, instinctively threw
his body as far forward as possible in the sleigh,
and cried, “Ah! Mon cher monsieur Deeck!
mon dieu! prenez gardez vous!”

“Donner and blitzen, Richart,” exclaimed the
veteran German, looking over the side of the
sleigh with unusual emotion, “put you will preak
ter sleigh and kilt ter horses.”

“Good Mr. Jones,” said the clergyman, losing
the slight flush that cold had given to his cheeks,
“be prudent, good sir—be careful.”

“Get up, you obstinate devils!” cried Richard,
catching a bird's-eye view of his situation,
applying his whip with new vigour, and unconsciously
kicking the stool on which he sat, as if
inclined to urge the inanimate wood forward;
“Get up, I say—Cousin 'duke, I shall have to sell
the grays too; they are the worst broken horses—
Mr. Le Quaw!” Richard was too much agitated
to regard his pronunciation, of which he was
commonly a little vain; “Monsieur Le Quaw,
pray get off my leg; you hold my leg so tight
that it's no wonder I can't guide the horses.

“Merciful Providence!” exclaimed the Judge,
“they will be all killed!”

Elizabeth gave a piercing shriek, and the black
of Agamemnon's face changed to a muddy white.

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At this critical moment, the young hunter, who,
during the salutations of the parties, had sat in
rather sullen silence, sprang from the sleigh of
Marmaduke to the heads of the refractory leaders.
The horses, who were yet suffering under the injudicious
and somewhat random blows from Richard,
were dancing up and down with that ominous
movement, that threatens a sudden and uncontrollable
start, and pressing backward instead
of going into the quarry. The youth gave the
leaders a powerful jerk, and they plunged aside,
by the path they had themselves trodden, and reentered
the road in the position in which they were
first halted. The sleigh was whirled from its
dangerous position, and upset with its runners
outwards. The German and the divine were
thrown rather unceremoniously into the highway,
but without danger to their bones. Richard appeared
in the air, for a moment, describing the
segment of a circle, of which the reins were the
radii, and was landed at the distance of some fifteen
feet, in that snow-bank which the horses had
dreaded, right end uppermost. Here, as he instinctively
grasped the reins, as drowning men
seize at straws, he admirably served the purpose
of an anchor, to check the further career of his
steeds. The Frenchman who was on his legs in
the act of springing from the sleigh, took an aerial
flight also, much in that attitude which boys assume
when they play leap-frog, and flying off in
a tangent to the curvature of his course, came into
the snow bank head foremost, where he remained,
exhibiting two lathy legs on high, like scare-crows
waving in a corn field. Major Hartmann, whose
self-possession had been admirably preserved during
the whole evolution, was the first of the party
that gained his feet and his voice.

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[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

“Ter deyvel, Richart!” he exclaimed, in a voice
half serious, half comical, “put you unloat your
sleigh very hantily.”

It may be doubtful, whether the attitude in
which Mr. Grant continued for an instant after his
overthrow, was the one into which he had been
thrown, or was assumed, in humbling himself before
the power that he reverenced, in thanksgivings
at his escape. When he rose from his knees,
he began to gaze about him, with anxious looks,
after the welfare of his companions, while every
joint in his body was trembling with nervous agitation.
There was also a slight confusion in the
faculties of Mr. Jones, that continued for some little
time; but as the mist gradually cleared from
before his eyes, he saw that all was safe, and with
an air of great self-satisfaction, he cried, “Well—
that was neatly saved, any how—it was a lucky
thought in me to hold on the reins, or the fiery
devils would have been over the mountain by
this time. How well I recovered myself, cousin
'duke! Another moment would have been too
late; but I knew just the spot where to touch
the off-leader; that blow under his right flank,
and the sudden jerk I gave with the reins, brought
them round quite handsomely, I must own myself.”

“Thou jerk! thou recover thyself, Dickon!”
cried the judge, whose fears were all vanished in
mirth at the discomfiture of the party; “but for
that brave lad yonder, thou and thy horses, or rather
mine, would have assuredly been dashed to
pieces—But where is Monsieur Le Quoi?”

“Oh! mon cher Juge! Mon ami!” cried a
smothered voice, “praise be God I live; vill-a you,
Mister Agamemnon, be pleased come down ici,
and help-a me on my foot?”

The divine and the negro seized the

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incarcernted Gaul by his legs, and extricated him from a
snow-bank of three feet in depth, whence his voice
had sounded as from the tombs. The thoughts of
Mr. Le Quoi, immediately on his liberation, were
not extremely collected; and when he reached
the light, he threw his eyes upwards, in order to
examine the distance he had fallen. His good humour
returned, however, with a knowledge of his
safety, though it was some little time before he
clearly comprehended the case.

“What, monsieur,” said Richard, who was busily
assisting the black in taking off the leaders;
“are you there? I thought I saw you flying up towards
the top of the mountain, but just now.”

“Praise be God, I no fly down into de lake,”
returned the Frenchman, with a visage that was
divided between pain, occasioned by a few large
scratches that he had received in forcing his head
through the crust, and the look of complaisance
that seemed natural to his pliable features: “ah!
mon cher Mister Deeck, vat you do next?—dere
be noting you no try.”

“The next thing, I trust, will be to learn to
drive,” said the Judge, who had busied himself in
throwing the buck, together with several articles
of his baggage, from his own sleigh into the snow;
“here are seats for you all, gentlemen; the evening
grows piercingly cold, and the hour approaches
for the service of Mr. Grant: we will
leave friend Jones to repair the damages, with the
assistance of Agamemnon, and hasten to a warm
fire. Here, Dickon, are a few articles of Bess's
trumpery, that you can throw into your sleigh
when ready, and there is also a deer of my taking,
that I will thank you to bring—Aggy! remember
there will be a visit from Santaclaus to your stocking
to-night, if you are smart and careful about
the buck, and get in, in season.”

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[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

The black grinned with the consciousness of the
bribe that was thus offered him for his silence on
the subject of the deer, while Richard, without, in
the least, waiting for the termination of his cousin's
speech, at once began his reply—

“Learn to drive, sayest thou, cousin duke? Is
there a man in the county who knows more of
horse-flesh than myself? Who broke in the filly,
that no one else dare mount? though your coachman
did pretend that he had tamed her before I
took her in hand, but any body could see that he
lied—he was a great liar, that John—what's that,
a buck?”—Richard abandoned the horses, and
ran to the spot where Marmaduke had thrown
the deer: “It is a buck indeed! I am amazed!
Yes, here are two holes in him; he has fired both
barrels, and hit him each time. Ecod! how Marmaduke
will brag! he is a prodigious bragger
about any small matter like this now; well, well,
to think that 'duke has killed a buck before christmas!
There will be no such thing as living with
him—they are both bad shots though, mere chance—
mere chance;—now, I never fired twice at a
cloven hoof in my life;—it is hit or miss with me—
dead or runaway:—had it been a bear, or a
wild-cat, a man might have wanted both barrels.
Here! you Aggy! how far off was the Judge when
this buck was shot?”

“Eh! Massa Richard, may be a ten rod,” cried
the black, bending under one of the horses, with
the pretence of fastening a buckle, but in reality to
conceal the broad grin that opened a mouth from
ear to ear.

“Ten rod!” echoed the other; “why, Aggy,
the deer I killed last winter was at twenty—yes!
if any thing it was nearer thirty than twenty. I
wouldn't shoot at a deer at ten rod: besides, you
may remember, Aggy, I only fired once.”

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[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

“Yes, Massa Richard, I'member 'em! Natty
Bumppo fire t'oder gun. You know, sir, the folk
say, Natty kill 'em.”

“The folks lie, you black devil!” exclaimed
Richard in great heat. “I have not shot even a
gray squirrel these four years, to which that old
rascal has not laid claim, or some one for him.
This is a damn'd envious world that we live in—
people are always for dividing the credit of a thing,
in order to bring down merit to their own level.
Now they have a story about the Patent, that
Hiram Doolittle helped to plan the steeple to St.
Paul's; when Hiram knows that it is entirely mine;
a little taken from a print of its namesake in London,
I own; but all the rest is mine.”

“I don't know where he come from,” said the
black, losing every mark of humour in au expression
of deep admiration, “but eb'ry body say, he
wonnerful hansome.”

“And well they may say so, Aggy,” cried Richard,
leaving the buck, and walking up to the negro
with the air of a man who has new interest
awakened within him. “I think I may say, without
bragging, that it is the handsomest and the
most scientific country church in America. I
know that the Connecticut settlers talk about
their Weathersfield meeting-house; but I never
believe more than half of what they say, they are
such unconscionable braggers. Just as you have
got a thing done, if they see it likely to be successful,
they are always for interfering; and then its
ten to one but they lay claim to half, or even all
of the credit. You may remember, Aggy, when
I painted the sign of the bold dragoon for Capt.
Hollister, there was that fellow, who was about
town laying brick dust on the houses, came one
day and offered to mix what I call the streaky
black, for the tail and mane, and then, because it

-- 055 --

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

looks just like horse hair, he tells every body that
the sign was painted by himself and Squire Jones.
If Marmaduke don't send that fellow off the Patent,
he may ornament his village with his own
hands, for me.” Here Richard paused a moment,
and cleared his throat by a loud hem, while the
negro, who was all this time busily engaged in
preparing their sleigh, proceeded with his work
in respectful silence. Owing to the religious
scruples of the Judge, Aggy was the servant of
Richard, who had his services for a time, and who,
of course, commanded a legal claim to the respect
of the young negro. But when any dispute between
his lawful master and his real benefactor occurred,
the black felt too much deference for both
to express any opinion. In the mean while, Richard
continued watching the negro as he fastened
buckle after buckle, until, stealing a look of consciousness
toward the other, he continued, “Now,
if that young man, who was in your sleigh, is a
real Connecticut settler, he will be telling every
body how he saved my horses, when, if he had
just let them alone for one half a minute longer,
I would have brought them in much better, without
upsetting, with the whip and rein—it spoils
a horse to give him his head. I should not wonder
if I had to sell the whole team, just for that
one jerk that he gave them.” Richard again
paused, and again hemmed; for his conscience
smote him a little, for censuring a man who had
just saved his life—“Who is the lad, Aggy—I
don't remember to have seen him before?”

The black recollected the hint about Santaclaus;
and while he briefly explained how they
had taken him on the top of the mountain, he
forbore to add any thing concerning the accident
of the wound, only saying, that he believed the

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[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

youth was a stranger. It was so usual for men of
the first rank to take into their sleighs any one
whom they found toiling through the snow, that
Richard was perfectly satisfied with this explanation.
He heard Aggy, with great attention, and
then remarked, “Well, if the lad has not been
spoiled by the people in Templeton, he may be a
modest young man, and as he certainly meant
well, I shall take some notice of him—perhaps he
is land-hunting—I say, Aggy—may be he is out
hunting?”

“Eh! yes, massa Richard,” said the black, a
little confused; for as Richard did all the flogging,
he stood in great terror of his master, in the
main—“yes, sir, I b'lieve he be.”

“Had he a pack and an ax?”

“No, sir, only he rifle.”

“Rifle!” exclaimed Richard, observing the
confusion of the negro, which now amounted to
terror. “By Jove! he killed the deer. I knew
that Marmaduke couldn't kill a buck on the jump—
How was it, Aggy? tell me all about it, and I'll
roast 'duke quicker than he can roast his saddle—
How was it, Aggy? the lad shot the buck, and
the Judge bought it, ha! and is taking him down
to get the pay?”

The pleasure of this discovery had put Richard
in such a good humour, that the negro's fears in
some measure vanished, and he remembered the
stocking. After a gulp or two, he made out to reply—

“You forgit a two shot, sir?”

“Don't lie, you black rascal!” cried Richard,
stepping on the snow-bank to measure the distance
from his long lash to the negro's back; “speak
the truth, or I'll trounce you.” While speaking,
the stock was slowly rising in Richard's right

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[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

hand, and the lash drawing through his left, in the
scientific manner with which drummers apply the
cat, and Agamemnon, after turning each side of
himself towards his master, and finding all equally
unwilling to remain there, forgetful of his great
name, fairly gave in. In a very few words he
made his master acquainted with the truth, at the
same time earnestly conjuring Richard to protect
him from the displeasure of the Judge.

“I'll do it, boy, I'll do it,” cried the other, rubbing
his hands with delight; “say nothing, but
leave me to manage 'duke—I have a damn'd great
mind to leave the deer on the hill, and to make
the fellow send for his own carcass: but no, I will
let Marmaduke tell a few bouncers about it before
I come out upon him. Come, hurry in, Aggy, I
must help to dress the lad's wound; this Yankee
doctor knows nothing of surgery—I had to hold
old Milligan's leg for him, while he cut it off.”—
Richard was now seated on the stool again, and
the black taking the hind seat, the steeds were put
in motion towards home. As they dashed down
the hill, on a fast trot, the driver occasionally turned
his face to Aggy, and continued speaking; for,
notwithstanding their recent rupture, the most perfect
cordiality was again existing between them.
“This goes to prove that I turned the horses with
the reins, for no man who is shot in the right shoulder,
can have strength enough to bring round such
obstinate devils. I knew I did it from the first;
but I did not want to multiply words with Marmaduke
about it—Will you bite, you villain?—hip,
boys, hip! Old Natty too, that is the best of it—
Well, well—'duke will say no more about my deer—
and the Judge fired both barrels, and hit nothing
but a poor lad, who was behind a pine tree. I
must help that quack to take out the buck shot
for the poor fellow.” In this manner Richard

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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.

-- 059 --

CHAPTER V.

Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made,
And Gabriel's pumps were all unfinish'd I' th' heel:
There was no link to colour Peter's hat.
And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing:
There were none fine, but Adam, Ralph and Gregory.
Shakespeare.

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

After winding along the side of the mountain,
the road, on reaching the gentle declivity which
lay at the base of the hill, turned at a right angle
to its former course, and shot down an inclined
plain, directly into the village of Templeton.
The rapid little stream that we have already mentioned,
was crossed by a bridge of hewn timber,
which manifested, by its rude construction, and
the unnecessary size of its frame-work, both the
value of labour, and the abundance of materials.
This little torrent, whose dark waters gushed in
mimic turbulence over the limestones that lined
its bottom, was nothing less than one of the many
sources of the Susquehanna; a river, to which the
Atlantic herself, has extended her right arm, to
welcome into her bosom. It was at this point,
that the powerful team of Mr. Jones brought him
up to the more sober steeds of our travellers. A
small hill was risen, and the astonished Elizabeth
found herself, at once, amid the incongruous
dwellings of the village. The street was laid out
of the width of an ordinary avenue to a city, notwithstanding
that the eye might embrace in one

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[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

view, thousands, and tens of thousands of acres,
that were yet tenanted only by the beasts of the
forest. But such had been the will of her father,
and such had also met the wishes of his followers.
To them, the road, that made the most rapid approaches
to the condition of the old, or, as they expressed
it, the down countries, was the most pleasant;
and surely nothing could look more like civilization,
than a city, even if it lay in a wilderness!
The width of the street, for so it was called,
might have been one hundred feet; but the track
for the sleighs was much more limited. On either
side of the highway, were piled before the houses,
huge heaps of logs that were daily increasing than
diminishing in size, notwithstanding the enormous
fires that might be seen, lighting every window
through the dusk of the evening.

The last object at which Elizabeth had gazed
when they renewed their journey, after the rencontre
with Richard, was the sun, as it expanded in the
refraction of the horizon, and over whose disk, the
dark umbrage of a pine was stealing, while it slowly
sunk behind the western hills. But his setting
rays darted along the openings of the mountain
she was on, and lighted the shining covering of
the birches, until their smooth and glossy coats,
nearly rivalled the mountain-sides in colour. The
out-line of each dark pine was delineated far in the
depths of the forest; and the rocks, too smooth
and too perpendicular to retain the snow that had
fallen, brightened, as if smiling in scorn, at the
changes in the season. But at each step, as they
descended, Elizabeth observed that they were
leaving the day behind them. Even the heartless,
but bright rays of a December sun, were missed,
as they glided into the cold gloom of the valley.
Along the summits of the mountains in the eastern
range, it is true, that the light still lingered,

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receding step by step from the earth into the few clouds
that were gathering, with the evening mist, about
the limited horizon; but the frozen lake lay without
a shadow on its chill bosom; the dwellings
were becoming already gloomy and indistinct;
and the wood-cutters were shouldering their axes,
and preparing to enjoy, throughout the long
evening before them, the comforts of those exhilarating
fires that their labour had been supplying
with fuel. They paused only to gaze at the passing
sleighs, to lift their caps to Marmaduke, to exchange
familiar nods with Richard, and each disappeared
in his dwelling. The paper curtains
dropped behind our travellers in every window,
shutting from the air even the fire-light of their
cheerful apartments; and when the horses of her
father turned, with a rapid whirl, into the open
gate of the mansion-house, and nothing stood before
her but the cold, dreary stone-walls of the
building, as she approached them through an
avenue of young and leafless poplars, Elizabeth
felt as if all the loveliness of the mountain-view
had vanished like the fancies of a dream. Marmaduke
retained so much of his early habits as to
reject the use of bells, but the equipage of Mr.
Jones came dashing through the gate after them,
sending its jingling sounds through every cranny
in the building, and in a moment the dwelling was
in an uproar.

On a stone platform, of rather small proportions,
considering the size of the building, Richard
and Hiram had, conjointly, reared four little columns
of wood, which in their turn supported the
shingled roofs of the portico—this was the name
that Mr. Jones had thought proper to give to a
very plain, covered, entrance to the mansion.—
The ascent to the platform was by five or six
stone steps, somewhat hastily laid together, and

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[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

which the frost had already begun to move from
their symmetrical positions. But the evils of a
cold climate, and a superficial construction, did
not end here. As the steps lowered, the platform
necessarily fell also, and the foundations actually
left the superstructure suspended in the air, leaving
an open space of a foot from the base of the
pillars to the bases on which they had originally
been placed. It was lucky for the whole fabric,
that the carpenter, who did the manual part of the
labour, had fastened the canopy of this classic entrance
so firmly to the side of the house, that, when
the base deserted the superstructure in the manner
we have described, and the pillars, for the
want of a foundation, were no longer of service to
support the roof, the roof was able to uphold the
pillars. Here was indeed an unfortunate gap
left in the ornamental part of Richard's column;
but, like the window in Aladdin's palace, it seemed
only left in order to prove the fertility of its
master's resources. The composite order again
offered its advantages, and a second edition of the
base was given, as the booksellers say, with additions
and improvements. It was necessarily larger,
and it was properly ornamented with mouldings:
still the steps continued to yield, and, at the
moment when Elizabeth returned to her father's
door, a few rough wedges were driven under the
pillars to keep them steady, and to prevent their
weight from separating them from the pediment
which they ought to have supported.

From the great door, which opened into the
porch, emerged two or three female domestics,
and one male. The latter was bare-headed, but
evidently more dressed than usual, and in the
whole, was of so singular a formation and attire,
as to deserve a more minute description. He was
about five feet in height, of a square and athletic

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[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

frame, with a pair of shoulders that would have fitted
a grenadier. His low stature was rendered
the more striking by a bend forward that he was
in the habit of assuming, for no apparent reason,
unless it might be in order to give a greater freedom
to his arms, in a particularly sweeping swing,
that they constantly practised when their master
was in motion. His face was long, of a fair complexion,
burnt to a fiery red; with a snub nose,
cocked into an inveterate pug; a mouth of enormous
dimensions, filled with fine teeth; and a
pair of blue eyes, that seemed to look about them,
on surrounding objects, with vast contempt. His
head composed full one-fourth of his whole length,
and the queue that depended from its rear occupied
another. He wore a coat of very light drab
cloth, with buttons as large as dollars, bearing the
impression of a “foul anchor.” The skirts were
extremely long, reaching quite to the calf, and
were broad in proportion. Beneath, there were a
vest and breeches of red plush, somewhat worn and
soiled. He had shoes with large buckles, and
stockings of blue and white stripes.

This odd-looking figure reported himself to be
a native of the county of Cornwall, in the island
of Great Britain. His boyhood had passed in the
neighbourhood of the tin mines, and his youth as
the cabin-boy of a smuggler, between Falmouth
and Guernsey. From this trade he was impressed
into the service of his king, and, for the want of a
better, had been taken into the cabin, first as a
servant, and finally as steward to the captain.
Here he acquired the art of making chowder, lobskous,
and one or two other sea-dishes, and, as he
was fond of saying, had an opportunity of seeing
the world. With the exception of one or two outports
in France, and an occasional visit to

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Portsmouth, Plymouth, and Deal, he had in reality seen
no more of mankind, however, than if he had been
riding a donkey in one of his native mines. But,
being discharged from the navy at the peace of '83,
he declared, that, as he had seen all the civilized
parts of the world, he was inclined to a trip to the
wilds of America. We will not trace him in his
brief wanderings, under the influence of that spirit
of emigration, that sometimes induces a dapper
Cockney to quit his home, and lands him, before
the sound of Bow bells is fairly out of his ears,
within the roar of the cataract of Niagara, but
shall only add, that, at a very early day, even before
Elizabeth had been sent to school, he had
found his way into the family of Marmaduke
Temple. where, owing to a combination of qualities,
he held. under Mr. Jones, the office of majordomo.
The name of this worthy was Benjamin
Penguillan, according to his own pronunciation;
but, owing to a marvellous tale that he was in the
habit of relating, concerning the length of time he
had to labour to keep his ship from sinking after
Rodney's victory, he had universally acquired the
nickname of Ben Pump.

By the side of Benjamin, and pressing forward
as if a little jealous of her station, stood a middle-aged
woman, dressed in calico, rather violently
contrasted in colour, with a tall, meager, shapeless
figure, sharp features, and a somewhat acute expression
in her physiognomy. Her teeth were
mostly gone, and what did remain were of a light
yellow. The skin of her nose was drawn tightly
over the member, and then suffered to hang in
large wrinkles in her cheeks and about her mouth.
She took snuff in such large quantities, as to create
the impression, that she owed the saffron of
her lips and the adjacent parts, to this circumstance;
but it was the unvarying colour of her

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whole face. She presided over the female part of
the domestic arrangements, in the capacity of
housekeeper; was a spinster, and bore the name of
Remarkable Pettibone. To Elizabeth she was
an entire stranger, having been introduced into
the family since the death of her mother.

In addition to these, were three or four subordinate
menials, mostly black, some appearing at
the principal door, and some running from the
end of the building, where stood the entrance to
the cellar-kitchen.

Besides these, there was a general rush from
Richard's kennel, accompanied with every canine
tone, from the howl of the wolf-dog to the petulant
bark of the terrier. The master received
their boisterous salutations with a variety of imitations
from his own throat, when the dogs, probably
from shame at being outdone, ceased their
outcry. One stately, powerful mastiff, who wore
around his neck a brass collar, with “M. T.” engraved
in large letters on the rim; alone was silent.
He walked majestically, amid the confusion,
to the side of the Judge, where, receiving a kind
pat or two, he turned to Elizabeth, who even
stooped to kiss him, as she called him kindly by
the name of “Old Brave.” The animal seemed
to know her, as she ascended the steps, supported
by Monsieur Le Quoi and her father, in order to
protect her from falling on the ice, with which
they were covered. He looked wistfully after her
figure, and when the door closed on the whole
party, he laid himself in a kennel that was placed
nigh by, as if conscious that the house contained
something of additional value to guard.

Elizabeth followed her father, who paused a
moment to whisper a message to one of his domestics,
into a large hall, that was dimly lighted by
two candles, placed in high, old-fashioned, brass

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candlesticks. The door closed, and the party
were at once removed from an atmosphere that
was nearly at zero, to one of sixty degrees above.
In the centre of the hall stood an enormous stove,
the sides of which appeared to be quivering with
the heat it emitted; from which a large, straight
pipe, leading through the ceiling above, carried
off the smoke. An iron basin, containing water,
was placed on this furnace, for such only it could
be called, in order to preserve a proper humidity
in the apartment. The room was carpeted, and
furnished with convenient, substantial furniture, of
a great variety in its appearance and materials;
some of which was brought from the city, and the
remainder manufactured by the mechanics of Templeton.
There was a sideboard of mahogany, inlaid
with ivory, and bearing enormous handles of
glittering brass, and groaning under piles of silver
plate. Near it stood a set of prodigious tables,
made of the wild cherry, to imitate the imported
wood of the sideboard, but plain, and without ornament
of any kind. Opposite to these stood a
smaller table, formed from a lighter coloured wood,
through the grains of which the wavy lines of the
curled-maple of the mountains were undulating in
precise regularity. Near to this, in a corner,
stood a heavy, old-fashioned, brass-faced clock,
encased in a high box, with the dark hue of the
black-walnut from the seashore. An enormous
settee, or sofa, covered with light chintz, stretched
along the walls for near twenty feet on one side of
the hall, and chairs of wood, painted a light yellow,
with black lines that were drawn by no very
steady hand, were ranged opposite, and in the intervals
between the other pieces of furniture. A
Fahrenheit's thermometer, in a mahogany case,
and with a barometer annexed, was hung against
the wall, at some little distance from the stove,

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which Benjamin consulted, every half-hour, with
prodigious veneration. Two small glass chandeliers
were suspended at equal distances between the
stove and the outer doors, one of which opened at
either end of the hall, and gilt lustres were affixed
to the frame-work of the numerous side doors that
led from the apartment. Some little display in architecture
had been made in constructing these
frames and casings, which were surmounted with
pediments, that bore each a little pedestal in its
centre. On these pedestals were small busts in
blacked plaster of Paris. The style of the pedestals,
as well as the selection of the busts, had been
executed under the auspices of Mr. Jones. On
one stood Homer, a most striking likeness, Richard
affirmed, “as any one might see, for it was
blind.” Another bore the image of a smooth
visaged gentleman, with a pointed beard, whom
he called Shakspeare. A third ornament was an
urn, which, from its shape, Richard was accustomed
to say, intended to represent itself as holding
the ashes of Dido. A fourth was certainly old
Franklin, in his cap and spectacles. A fifth as
surely bore the dignified composure of the face of
Washington. A sixth was a non-descript, representing
“a man with a shirt-collar open,” to use
the language of Richard, “with a laurel on his
head;—it was Julius Cæsar or Dr. Faustus; there
were good reasons for believing either.”

The walls were hung with a dark, lead-coloured
English paper, that represented Britannia weeping
over the tomb of Wolfe. The hero himself stood
at a little distance from the mourning goddess, at
the edge of the paper. Each width contained the
figure, with the slight exception of one arm of the
General running over on to the next piece, so that
when Richard essayed, with his own hands, to put
together this delicate outline, some difficulties

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[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]

occurred, that prevented a nice conjunction, and
Britannia had reason to lament, in addition to the
loss of her favourite's life, numberless cruel amputations
of his right arm.

The luckless cause of these unnatural divisions
announced his presence in the hall by a loud crack
of his whip, that startled the party, and his voice
was first heard, exclaiming—

“Why, Benjamin! you Ben Pump! is this the
manner in which you receive the heiress? Excuse
him, cousin Elizabeth. The arrangements were
too delicate and nice to be trusted to every one;
but now I am here, things will go on better.—
Come, light up, Mr. Penguillan, light up, light
up, and let us see one another's faces. Well,
'duke, I have brought home your deer; what is to
be done with it, ha?”

“By the lord, Squire,” commenced Benjamin
in reply, first giving his mouth a wipe with the
back of his hand, “if this here thing had been ordered
sum'at earlier in the day, it might have been
got up, d'ye see, to your liking. I had mustered
all hands, and was exercising candles, when you
hove in sight; but when the women heard your
bells, they started an end, as if they were riding
the boatswain's colt; and, if-so-be there is that
man in the house, who can bring up a parcel of
women when they have got headway on them, until
they've run out the end of their rope, his name
is not Benjamin Pump. But Miss Betsy here,
must have altered more than a privateer in disguise,
since she has got on her woman's duds, if
she will go to take offence with an old fellow, for
the small matter of lighting a few candles.”

Elizabeth and her father continued silent, for
both experienced the same sensations on entering
the hall. The former had resided one year in
the building before she left home for the school,

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[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]

and the figure of its late lamented mistress was
missed by both the husband and the child.

But candles had been placed in the chandeliers
and lustres, and the attendants were so far recovered
from their surprise as to recollect their
use: the oversight was immediately remedied,
and in a minute the apartment was in a blaze
of light.

The slight melancholy of our heroine and her
father was banished by this brilliant interruption;
and the whole party began to lay aside the numberless
garments that they had worn in the air.

During this operation, Richard kept up a desultory
dialogue with the different domestics, occasionally
throwing out a remark to the Judge concerning
the deer; but as his conversation at such
moments was much like an accompaniment on a
piano, a thing that is heard without being attended
to, we will not undertake the task of recording
his wonderfully diffuse discourse.

The instant that Remarkable Pettibone had
executed her portion of the labour in illuminating,
she returned to a position near Elizabeth, with the
apparent motive of receiving the clothes that the
other threw aside, but in reality to examine, with
an air of mingled curiosity and jealousy, the appearance
of the lady who was to supplant her in
the administration of their domestic economy. The
housekeeper felt a little appalled, when, after
cloak, coats, shawls, and socks had been taken off
in succession, the large black hood was removed,
and the dark ringlets, shining like the raven's
wing, fell from her head, and left the sweet but
commanding features of the young lady exposed
to view. Nothing could be fairer and more spotless
than the forehead of Elizabeth, and preserve
the appearance of life and health. Her nose
would have been called Grecian, but for a softly

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[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]

rounded swell, that gave in character to the feature
what it lost in beauty. Her mouth, at first
sight, seemed only made for love; but the instant
that its muscles moved, every expression that womanly
dignity could utter, played around it, with
the flexibility of female grace. It spoke not only
to the ear, but to the eye. So much, added to
a form of exquisite proportions, rather full and
rounded for her years, and of the tallest medium
height, she inherited from her mother. Even the
colour of her eye, the arched brows, and the long
silken lashes, came from the same source; but its
expression was her father's. Inert and composed,
it was soft, benevolent, and attractive; but it
could be roused, and that without much difficulty.
At such moments it was still beautiful, though it
was beauty in its grandeur. As the last shawl fell
aside, and she stood, dressed in a rich blue riding-habit,
that fitted her form with the nicest exactness;
her cheeks burning with roses, that bloomed the
richer for the heat of the hall, and her eyes slightly
suffused with moisture, that rendered their ordinary
beauty more dazzling, and with every feature
of her speaking countenance illuminated by
the lights that flared around her, Remarkable felt
that her own power had ended.

The business of unrobing had been simultaneous.
Marmaduke appeared in a suit of plain
neat black; Monsieur Le Quoi, in a coat of
snuff-colour, covering a vest of embroidery, with
breeches, and silk stockings, and buckles—that
were commonly thought to be of paste. Major
Hartmann wore a coat of sky-blue, with large
brass buttons, a club wig, and boots; and Mr.
Richard Jones had set off his dapper little form in
a frock of bottle-green, with bullet buttons; by
one of which the sides were united over his well-rounded
waist, opening above, so as to show a

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jacket of red cloth, with an under vest of flannel,
faced with green velvet, and below, so as to exhibit
a pair of buckskin breeches, with long, soiled,
white-top boots, and spurs; one of the latter
a little bent, from its recent attacks on the unfortunate
stool.

When the young lady had extricated herself
from the duresse of her garments, she was at liberty
to gaze about her, and to examine not only the
household over which she was to preside, but also
the air and manner in which their domestic arrangements
were conducted. Although there was
much incongruity in the furniture and appearance
of the hall, there was nothing mean. The floor
was carpeted, even in its remotest corners. The
brass candlesticks, the gilt lustres, and the glass
chandeliers, whatever might be their keeping as to
propriety and taste, were admirably kept as to all
the purposes of use and comfort. They were all
clean, and each glittering, in the strong light of
the apartment, with its peculiar lustre. Compared
with the chill aspect of the December night
without, the warmth and brilliancy of the apartment
produced an effect that was not unlike enchantment.
Her eye had not time to detect in detail
the little errors, which, in truth, existed, but
was glancing around her in delight, when an object
arrested her view, that was strongly contrasted
to the smiling faces and neatly attired personages
who had thus assembled to do honour to the
heiress of Templeton.

In a corner of the hall, near to the grand entrance,
stood the young hunter, unnoticed, and
for the moment apparently forgotten. But even
the forgetfulness of the Judge, which, under the
influence of strong emotion, had banished the recollection
of the wound of this stranger, seemed
surpassed by the absence of mind in the youth

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[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

himself. On entering the apartment he had mechanically
lifted his cap, and exposed a head, covered
with hair that rivalled in colour and gloss
the locks of Elizabeth. Nothing could have
wrought a greater transformation, than the single
act of removing the rough fox-skin cap. If
there was much that was prepossessing in the
countenance of the young hunter, there was something
noble in the rounded outlines of his head
and brow. The very air and manner with which
the member haughtily maintained itself over the
coarse, and even wild attire, in which the rest of
his frame was clad, bespoke not only familiarity
with a splendour that in those new settlements was
thought to be unequalled, but something very like
contempt also.

The hand that held the cap, rested lightly on the
little ivory-mounted piano of Elizabeth, with neither
rustic restraint, nor obtrusive vulgarity. A
single finger touched the instrument, as if accustomed
to dwell on such places. His other arm was extended
to its utmost length, and the hand grasped
the barrel of his long rifle, with something like
convulsive energy. The act and the attitude
were both involuntary, and evidently proceeded
from a feeling much deeper than that of vulgar
surprise. His appearance, connected as it was
with the rough exterior of his dress, rendered him
entirely distinct from the busy group that were
moving across the other end of the long hall, occupied
in receiving the travellers, and exchanging
their welcomes; and Elizabeth, herself as much an
object to be looked at by others, continued to gaze
at him in a kind of stupid wonder. The contraction
of the stranger's brows increased, as his
eyes moved slowly from one object to another. For
moments the expression of his countenance was

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[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

fierce, and then again it seemed to pass away in
some painful emotion. The arm, that was extended.
bent, and brought the hand nigh to his face,
when his head dropped upon it, and concealed
the wonderfully speaking lineaments of his features.

“We forget, dear sir, the strange gentleman,”
(for her life Elizabeth could not call him otherwise,)
“whom we have brought here for assistance,
and to whom we owe every attention.”

All eyes were instantly turned in the direction
of those of the speaker, and the youth, rather
proudly, elevated his head again, while he answered—

“My wound is trifling, and I believe that Judge
Temple sent for a physician the moment we arrived.”

“Certainly,” said Marmaduke; “I have not
forgotten the object of thy visit, young man, nor
the nature of my debt to thee.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Richard, with something of
a waggish leer, “thou owest the lad for the venison,
I suppose, that thou killed, cousin 'duke!
Marmaduke! Marmaduke! That was a marvellous
tale of thine about the buck! Here, young
man, are two dollars for the deer, and Judge
Temple can do no less than pay the doctor. I shall
charge you nothing for my services, but you shall
not fare the worse for that. Come, come, 'duke,
don't be down-hearted about it; if you missed the
buck, you contrived to shoot this poor fellow
through a pine tree. Now I own that you have beat
me; I never did such a thing in all my life.”

“And I hope never will,” returned the Judge,
“if you are to experience the uneasiness that I
have suffered. But be of good cheer, my young
friend, the injury must be but small, as thou movest
thy arm with apparent freedom.”

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[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

“Don't make the matter worse, 'duke, by pretending
to talk about surgery,” interrupted Mr.
Jones, with a contemptuous wave of the hand;
“it is a science that can only be learnt by practice.
You know that my grandfather was a doctor,
but you haven't got a drop of medical blood
in your veins; these kind of things run in families.
All my family by the father's side had a
knack at physic. There was my uncle that was
killed at Brandywine, he died twice as easy as any
other man in the regiment, only from knowing
how to do the thing as it ought to be done.”

“I doubt not, Dickon,” returned the Judge
playfully, after meeting the bright smile, which,
in spite of himself, stole over the stranger's features,
“that thy family understood the art of letting
a life slip through their fingers with great facility.”

Richard heard him quite coolly, and, putting a
hand in either pocket of his surtout, so as to press
forward the skirts with an air of vast disdain, began
to whistle a tune; but the desire to reply overcame
his philosophy, and with great heat he exclaimed—

“You may affect to smile, Judge Temple, at
hereditary virtues, if you please; but there is not
a man on your Patent who don't know better.—
Here, even this young man, who has never seen
any thing but bears, and deers, and wood-chucks,
knows better, than not to believe in virtues being
transmitted down in families. Don't you, friend?”

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

“The Squire is right, Judge,” observed Benjamin,
with a knowing nod of his head towards
Richard, that bespoke the cordiality between
them. “Now, in the old country, the King's

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[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

Majesty touches for the evil, and that is a disorder that
the greatest doctor in the fleet, or, for the matter
of that, admiral either, can't cure; only the King's
Majesty, or a man that's been hung. Oh! yes,
the Squire is right, for if-so-be that he wasn't, how
is it that the seventh son always is a doctor, whether
he ships for the cock-pit or not? Now, when
we fell in with the mounsheers, under De Grass,
d'ye see, we had aboard of us a doctor—”

“Very well, Benjamin,” interrupted Elizabeth,
glancing her eyes from the hunter to Monsieur Le
Quoi, who was most politely attending to what fell
from each individual in succession, “you shall
tell me of that, and all your entertaining adventures
together; just now, a room must be prepared,
in which the arm of this gentleman can be
dressed.”

“I will attend to that myself, cousin Elizabeth,”
observed Richard, somewhat haughtily.—
“The young man shall not suffer, because Marmaduke
chooses to be a little obstinate. Follow
me, my friend, and I will examine the hurt myself.”

“It will be well to wait for the physician,” said
the hunter coldly; “he cannot be distant; I will
save you the trouble.”

Richard paused, and looked earnestly at the
speaker, a little astonished at the language, and
a good deal appalled at the refusal. He instantly
construed the latter into an act of hostility, and,
placing his hands in the pockets again, he walked
up to Mr. Grant, and putting his face close to the
countenance of the divine, he said in an under
tone—

“Now mark my words: there will be a story
among the settlers, that all our necks would have
been broken, but for that fellow there—as if I did
not know how to drive. Why, you might have

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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.

-- 077 --

CHAPTER VI.

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

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

Doctor Elnathan Todd, for such was the
unworthy name of the man of physic, was commonly
thought to be, among the settlers, a gentleman
of great mental endowments; and he was
assuredly of rare personal proportions. In height
he measured, without his shoes, exactly six feet
and four inches. His hands, feet, and knees, corresponded
in every respect with this formidable
stature; but every other part of his frame appeared
to have been intended for a man several
sizes smaller, if we except the length of the limbs.
His shoulders were square, in one sense at least,
being in a right line from one side to the other;
but they were so narrow, that the long, dangling
arms that they supported, seemed to issue
out of his back. His neck possessed, in an eminent
degree, the property of length to which we
have alluded, and it was topped by a small bullet-head,
that exhibited, on one side, a bush of bristling
brown hair, and on the other, a short, twinkling
visage, that appeared to maintain a constant
struggle with itself in order to look wise. He was
the youngest son of a farmer in the western part of
Massachusetts, who, being in somewhat easy circumstances,
had allowed this boy to shoot up to
the height we have mentioned, without the

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ordinary interruptions of field-labour, wood-chopping,
and such other toils as were imposed on his brothers.
Elnathan was indebted for this exemption
from labour, in some measure, to his extraordinary
growth, which, leaving him pale, inanimate,
and listless, induced his tender mother to pronounce
him “a sickly boy, and one that was not
equal to work, but who might arn a living, comfortably
enough, by taking to pleading law, or
turning minister, or doctoring, or some sitch-like
easy calling.” Still there was a great uncertainty
which of these vocations the youth was best endowed
to fill with credit and profit; but, having
no other employment, the strippling was constantly
lounging about the “homestead,” munching green
apples, and hunting for sorrel; when the same
sagacious eye, that had brought to light his latent
talents, seized upon this circumstance, as a clue
to direct his future path through the turmoils of
the world. “Elnathan was cut out for a doctor,”
she knew, “for he was for ever digging for yarbs,
and tasting all kinds of things that grow'd about the
lots. Then again he had a nateral love for doctor-stuff,
for when she had left the bilious pills
out for her man, all nicely covered with maple
sugar, just ready to take, Nathan had come in, and
swallowed them, for all the world as if they were
nothing, while Ichabod (her husband) could never
get one down without making sitch desperate faces,
that it was awful to look on.”

This discovery decided the matter. Elnathan,
then about fifteen, was, much like a wild colt,
caught and trimmed, by clipping his bushy locks;
dressed in a suit of homespun, died in the butternut
bark; furnished with a “New Testament,”
and a “Webster's Spelling-Book,” and sent to
school. As the boy was by nature quite shrewd
enough, and had previously, at odd times, laid the

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[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

foundations of reading, writing, and arithmetic, he
was soon conspicuous in the school for his learning.
The delighted mother had the gratification
of hearing, from the lips of the master, that her
son was a “prodigious boy, and far above all his
class.” He also thought that “the youth had a
natural love for doctoring, as he had known him
frequently advise the smaller children against eating
too much; and once or twice, when the ignorant
little things had persevered in opposition to
Elnathan's advice, he had known her son to empty
the school-baskets with his own mouth, to prevent
the consequences.”

Soon after this comfortable declaration from his
schoolmaster, the lad was removed to the house of
the village doctor, a gentleman whose early career
had not been unlike that of our hero, where he was
to be seen, sometimes watering a horse, at others
watering medicines, blue, yellow, and red; then
again he might be noticed, lolling under an apple
tree, with Ruddiman's Latin Grammar in his hand,
and a corner of Denman's Midwifery sticking out
of the pocket of his coat;—for his instructer held
it absurd to teach his pupil how to despatch a patient
regularly from this world, before he knew
how to bring him into it.

This kind of life continued for a twelvemonth,
when he suddenly appeared at meeting in a long
coat (and well did it deserve the name!) of black
homespun, with little bootees, bound with uncoloured
calf-skin, for the want of red morocco.

Soon after, he was seen shaving with a dull razor;
and but three or four months elapsed before
several elderly ladies were observed hastening towards
the house of a poor woman in the village,
while others were running to and fro in great apparent
distress. One or two boys were mounted,
bareback, on horses, and sent off at speed in

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various directions. Several indirect questions were
put concerning where the physician was last observed;
but all would not do; and at length Elnathan
was seen issuing from his door, with a very
grave air, preceded by a little white-headed boy,
who, out of breath, was trotting before him. The
following day the youth appeared in the street,
as the highway was called, and the neighbourhood
was astonished in observing how much he had
grown lately. The same week he bought a new
razor; and the succeeding Sunday he entered the
meeting-house with a red silk handkerchief in his
hand, and with an extremely demure countenance.
In the evening he called upon a young woman of
his own class in life, for there were no others to be
found, and, when he was left alone with the fair,
he was called, for the first time in his life, Doctor
Todd, by her prudent mother. The ice once broken
in this manner, Elnathan was greeted from
every mouth with his official appellation.

Another year was passed under the superintendence
of the same master, during which the young
physician had the credit of “riding with the old
doctor,” although they were generally observed
to travel different roads. At the end of that period,
Dr. Todd attained his legal majority. He
then took a jaunt to Boston, to purchase medicines,
and, as some intimated, to walk the hospital; we
know not how the latter might have been, but
if true, he soon walked through it, for he returned
within a fortnight, bringing with him a suspiciously
looking box, that smelt powerfully of
brimstone.

The next Sunday he was married; and the following
morning he entered a one-horse sleigh
with his bride, having before him the box we have
mentioned, with another filled with home-made
household linen, a paper-covered trunk, with a

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[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

red umbrella lashed to it, a pair of quite new saddle-bags,
and a bandbox. The next intelligence
that his friends received of the bride and
bride-groom was, that the latter was “settled in the new
countries, and well to do as a doctor, in Templetown,
in York state.”

If a templar would smile at the qualifications of
Marmaduke to fill the judicial seat that he occupied,
we are certain that a graduate of Leyden or
Edinburgh would be extremely amused with this
true narration of the servitude of Elnathan in the
temple of Æsculapius. But the same consolation
was afforded to both the jurist and the leech; for
Dr. Todd was quite as much on a level with his
compeers in the profession in that country, as
was Marmaduke with his brethren on the bench.

Time and practice did wonders for the physician.
He was naturally humane, but possessed no
small share of moral courage; or, in other words,
he was chary of the lives of his patients, and never
tried uncertain experiments on such members
of society as were considered useful; but once or
twice, when a luckless vagrant had come under his
care, he was a little addicted to trying the effects
of every vial in his saddle-bags on the stranger's
constitution. Happily their number was small,
and in most cases their natures innocent. By
these means Elnathan had acquired a certain degree
of knowledge in fevers and agues, and could
talk with much judgment concerning intermittents,
remittents, tertians, quotidians, &c. In certain
cutaneous disorders, very prevalent in new settlements,
he was considered to be infallible; and there
was no woman on the Patent, but would as soon
think of becoming a mother without a husband,
as without the assistance of Dr. Todd. In short,
he was rearing, on this foundation of sand, a superstructure,
cemented by practice, though

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composed of somewhat brittle materials. He, however,
occasionally renewed his elementary studies,
and, with the observation of a shrewd mind, was
applying his practice to his theory.

In surgery, having the least experience, and it
being a business that spoke directly to the senses,
he was most apt to distrust his own powers; but
he had applied oils to several burns, cut round the
roots of sundry defective teeth, and sewed up
the wounds of numberless wood-choppers, with
considerable eclat, when an unfortunate jobber
suffered a fracture of his leg, by the tree that he
had been felling. It was on this occasion that our
hero encountered the greatest trial that his nerves
and moral feeling had ever sustained. In the hour
of need he was, however, not found wanting.—
Most of the amputations in the new settlements,
and they were quite frequent, were performed by
some one practitioner, who, possessing originally
a reputation, was enabled by this circumstance to
acquire an experience that rendered him deserving
of it; and Elnathan had been present at one or
two of these operations. But on the present occasion
the man of practice was not to be obtained,
and the duty fell, as a matter of course, to the
share of Mr. Todd. He went to work with a kind
of blind desperation, observing, at the same time,
all the externals of decent gravity and great skill.
The sufferer's name was Milligan, and it was to
this event that Richard alluded, when he spoke of
assisting the Doctor, at an amputation—by holding
the leg! The limb was certainly cut off, and the
patient survived the operation. It was, however,
two years before poor Milligan ceased to complain
that they had buried the leg in so narrow a box,
that it was straitened for room; he knew this to
be true, for he could feel the pain shooting up from

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the inhumed fragment into his living members.
Marmaduke suggested that the fault might lie in
the living arteries and nerves, but Richard, considering
the amputation as part of his own
handy-work, strongly repelled the insinuation, at the
same time declaring, that he had often heard of
men who could tell when it was about to rain, by
the toes of amputated limbs. After two or three
years, notwithstanding that Milligan's complaints
gradually diminished, the leg was dug up, and a
larger box furnished. and from that hour no one
had heard the sufferer utter another complaint on
the subject. This gave the public great confidence
in Doctor Todd, whose reputation was hourly increasing,
and luckily for his patients, his information
also.

Notwithstanding Mr. Todd's six years' practice,
and his success with the leg, he was not a
little appalled, on entering the hall of the
mansion-house. It was glaring with the light of day; it
looked so splendid and imposing, compared with
the hastily built and scantily furnished apartments
which he frequented in his ordinary practice, and
contained so many well-dressed persons, and anxiously
looking faces, that his usually firm nerves
were a good deal discomposed. He had heard
from the messenger who summoned him, that
it was a gun-shot wound, and had come from his
own home, wading through the snow, with his
saddle-bags thrown over his arm, while separated
arteries, penetrated lungs, and injured vitals, were
whirling through his brain, as if he were stalking
over a field of battle, instead of Judge Temple's
peaceable enclosure.

The first object that met his eye, as he moved
into the room, was Elizabeth, in her riding-habit,
richly laced with gold cord, her fine form bending
towards him, with her face expressing deep

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anxiety in every one of its beautiful features. The
enormous bony knees of the physician struck each
other with a noise that was audible; for in the absent
state of his mind, he mistook her for a general
officer, perforated with bullets, hastening from
the field of battle to implore his assistance. The
delusion, however, was but momentary, and his
eye glanced rapidly from the daughter to the earnest
dignity of the father's countenance; thence to
the busy strut of Richard, who was cooling his
impatience at the hunter's indifference to his offered
assistance, by pacing the hall and cracking his
whip; from him to the Frenchman, who had
stood for several minutes unheeded with a chair
for the lady; thence to Major Hartmann, who
was very coolly lighting a pipe three feet long by
a candle in one of the chandeliers; thence to Mr.
Grant, who was turning over a manuscript with
much earnestness at one of the lustres; thence to
Remarkable, who stood, with her arms demurely
folded before her, surveying with a look of admiration
and envy the dress and beauty of the young
lady; and from her to Benjamin, who, with his
feet standing wide apart, and his arms a-kimho,
was balancing his square little body, with the indifference
of one who was accustomed to wounds
and bloodshed. All of these seemed to be unhurt,
and the operator began to breathe more freely;
but before he had time to take a second look, the
Judge, advancing, shook him kindly by the hand,
and spoke.

“Thou art welcome, my good sir, quite welcome,
indeed; here is a youth, whom I have unfortunately
wounded in shooting a deer this evening,
and who requires some of thy assistance.”

“Shooting at a deer, 'duke,” interrupted Richard,
abruptly—“Shooting at a deer. Who do
you think can prescribe, unless he knows the truth

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of the case? It is always so, with some people;
they think a doctor can be deceived, with the same
impunity as another man.”

“Shooting at a deer truly,” returned the Judge,
with a smile, “although it is by no means certain
that I did not aid in destroying the buck; but the
youth is injured by my hand, be that as it may;
and it is thy skill, that must cure him, and my
pocket, that shall amply reward thee for it.”

“Two ver good tings to depend on,” observed
Monsieur Le Quoi, bowing politely, with a sweep
of his head, to the Judge and the practitioner.

“I thank you, Monsieur,” returned the Judge;
“but we keep the young man in pain. Remarkable,
thou wilt please to provide linen, for lint and
bandages.”

This remark caused a cessation of the compliments,
and induced the physician to turn an inquiring
eye in the direction of his patient. During
the dialogue, the young hunter had thrown aside
his over coat, and now stood clad in a plain suit of
the common, light-coloured, homespun of the country,
that was evidently but recently made. His
hand was on the lapels of his coat, in the attitude
of removing the garment, when he suddenly suspended
the movement, and looked towards the
commiserating Elizabeth, who was standing in an
unchanged posture, too much absorbed with her
anxious feelings to heed his actions. A slight colour
appeared, passing over the brow of the youth,
as he spoke.

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

“By no means,” said Doctor Todd, who,
having discovered that his patient was far from
being a man of importance, felt wonderfully emboldened
to perform his duty.—“The strong light

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of these candles is favourable to the operation, and
it is seldom that we hard students enjoy good
eyesight.”

While speaking, Elnathan placed a pair of
large iron-rimmed spectacles on his face, where
they dropped, as it were by long practice, to the
extremity of his slim, pug nose; and if they were
of no service as assistants to his eyes, neither were
they any impediment to his vision; for his little,
gray organs were twinkling above them, like two
stars emerging from the cover of an envious cloud.
The action was unheeded by all but Remarkable,
who observed to Benjamin—

“Doctor Todd is a comely man to look on, and
a disp'ut pretty spoken one too. How well he
seems in spectacles. I declare, they give a grand
look to a body's face. I have quite a great mind
to try them myself.”

The speech of the stranger recalled the recollection
of Miss Temple, who started, as if from
deep abstraction, and, colouring excessively, she
motioned to a young woman, who served in the
capacity of a maid, and retired, with an air of
womanly reserve.

The field was now left to the physician and his
patient, while the different personages who remained,
gathered around the latter, with faces
expressing the various degrees of interest, that
each one felt in his condition. Major Hartmann
alone retained his seat, where he continued to
throw out vast quantities of smoke, now rolling
his eyes up to the ceiling, as if musing on the uncertainty
of life, and now bending them on the
wounded man, with an expression, that bespoke
some consciousness of his situation.

In the mean time, Elnathan, to whom the sight
of a gun-shot wound was a perfect novelty, commenced
his preparations, with a solemnity and

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[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

care that were worthy of the occasion. An old
shirt was procured by Benjamin, and placed in
the hands of the other, who tore divers bandages
from it, with an exactitude, that marked both his
own skill, and the importance of the operation.

The moment Richard heard the sound that
was produced by rending the linen, he stepped up
to the group, with the air of one who well understood
the business in hand. When this preparatory
measure was taken, Dr. Todd selected
a piece of the shirt with great care, and, handing
it to Mr. Jones, without moving a muscle,
said—

“Here, Squire Jones, you are well acquainted
with these things; will you please to scrape the
lint? It should be fine, and soft, you know, my
dear sir; and be cautious that no cotton gets in,
or it may p'ison the wownd. The shirt has been
made with cotton thread, but you can easily pick
it out.”

Richard assumed the office, with a nod at his
cousin, that said, quite plainly, “you see. this
fellow can't get along without me;” and began to
scrape the piece of linen on his knee, with great
diligence.

A table was now spread by the practitioner,
with vials, boxes of salve, and divers surgical instruments.
As the latter appeared, in succession,
from a case of red morocco, their owner held up
each implement, to the strong light of the chandelier
near to which he stood, and examined it,
with the nicest care and precision. A red silk
handkerchief was frequently applied to the glittering
steel, as if to remove from the polished surfaces,
the least impediment, which might exist, to
the most delicate operation. After the rather
scantily furnished pocket-case, which contained
these instruments, was exhausted, the physician

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[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

turned to his saddle-bags, and produced various
vials, filled with liquids, of the most radiant colours.
These were arranged, in due order, by
the side of the murderous saws, knives, and scissors,
when Elnathan stretched his long body to its
utmost elevation, placing his hand on the small of
his back, as if for support, and looked about him
to discover what effect this display of his professional
skill, was likely to produce on the spectators.

“Upon my wort, toctor,” observed Major Hartmann.
with a roguish roll of his little black eyes,
but with every other feature of his face in a state
of perfect rest, “put you have a very pretty pocket
pook of tools tere, and your toctor-stuff glitters,
as if it was petter for ter eyes as for ter
pelly.”

Elnathan gave a somewhat equivocal hem, before
he replied—one that might have been equally
taken, for that kind of noise, which cowards are
said to make, in order to awaken their dormant
courage, or for a natural effort, to clear the throat:
if for the latter, it was successful; for, turning
his face to the veteran German, he said—

“Very true, Major Hartmann, very true. sir;
a prudent man will always strive to make his remedies
agreeable to the eyes, though they may
not altogether suit the stomach. It is no small
part of our art, sir,” and he now spoke with the
confidence of a man who understood his subject,
“to reconcile the patient to what is for his own
good, though, at the same time, it may be unpalatable.”

“Sartain! Doctor Todd is right,” said Remarkable,
“and has scripter for what he says.
The Bible tells us, how things mought be sweet to
the mouth, and bitter to the inwards.”

“True, true,” interrupted the Judge, a little

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[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

impatiently; “but here is a youth who needs no
deception to lure him to his own benefit. I see,
by his eye, that he fears nothing more than delay.”

The stranger had, without assistance, bared his
own shoulder, when the slight perforation, produced
by the passage of the buck-shot, was plainly
visible. The intense cold of the evening had
stopped the bleeding, and Dr. Todd, casting a
furtive glance at the wound, thought it by no
means so formidable an affair as he had anticipated.
Thus encouraged, he approached his patient,
and made some indication of an intention
to trace the route that had been taken by the
lead.

Remarkable often found occasions, in after
days, to recount the minutiæ of that celebrated
operation; and when she arrived at this point,
she commonly proceeded as follows:—“And then
the Doctor tuck out of the pocket-book a long
thing, like a knitting-needle, with a button fastened
to the end on't; and then he pushed it into the
wownd; and then the young man looked awful;
and then I thought I should have swaned away—
I felt in sitch a disp'ut taking; and then the
Doctor had run it right through his shoulder, and
shoved the bullet out on t'other side; and so Doctor
Todd cured the young man—of a ball that the
Judge had shot into him, for all the world, as easy
as I could pick out a splinter, with my
darning-needle.”

Such were the impressions of Remarkable on
the subject; and such, doubtless, were the opinions
of most of those, who felt it necessary to
entertain a species of religious veneration for the
abilities and skill of Elnathan; but such was far
from the truth.

When the physician attempted to introduce the

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[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

instrument, described by Remarkable, he was repulsed
by the stranger, with a good deal of decision,
and some little contempt, in his manner.

“I believe, sir,” he said, “that a probe is not
necessary; the shot has missed the bone, and has
passed directly through the arm, to the opposite
side, where it remains, but skin-deep, and whence,
I should think, it might be easily extracted.”

“The gentleman knows best,” said Dr. Todd,
laying down the probe, with the air of a man who
had assumed it merely in compliance with forms;
and, turning to Richard, he fingered the lint,
with the appearance of great care and foresight.
“Admirably well scraped, squire Jones! it is
about the best lint I have ever seen. I want your
assistance, my good sir, to hold the patient's arm,
while I make an incision for the ball. Now, I
rather guess, there is not another gentleman present,
who could scrape the lint so well as squire
Jones.”

“Such things run in families,” observed Richard,
rising with alacrity, to render the desired
assistance. “My father, and my grandfather before
him, were both celebrated for their knowledge
of surgery; they were not, like Marmaduke here,
puffed up with an accidental thing, such as the
time when he drew in the hip-joint of the man
who was thrown from his horse: that was the fall
before you came into the settlement, Doctor; but
they were men who were taught the thing regularly,
spending half their lives in learning
those litle niceties; though, for the matter of that,
my grandfather was a college-bred physician, and
the best in the colony, too—that is, in his neighbourhood.”

“So it goes with the world, Squire,” cried Benjamin;
“if-so-be that a man wants to walk the
quarter-deck with credit, d'ye see, and with

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regular built swabs on his shoulders, he mus'nt think
to do it, by getting in at the cabin-windows.
There are two ways to get into a top, besides the
lubber-holes. The true way to walk aft, is to begin
forrard; tho'f it be only in an humble way,
like myself, d'ye see, which was, from being only
a hander of top-gallant-sails, and a stower of the
flying-jib, to keeping the key of the Captain's
locker.”

“Benjamin speaks quite to the purpose,” continued
Richard, with a benevolent smile, directed
to the Doctor. “I dare say, that he has often
seen shot extracted, in the different ships in which
he has served; suppose we get him to hold the basin;
he must be used to the sight of blood.”

“That he is, Squire, that he is,” interrupted
the ci-devant steward: “many's the good shot,
round, double-headed, and grape, that I've seen
the doctors at work on. For the matter of that,
I was in a boat, alongside the ship, when they cut
out the twelve-pound shot from the thigh of the
Captain of the Foody-rong, one of Mounsheer Ler
Quaw's countrymen, there!”

“A twelve-pound ball, from the thigh of a human
being!” exclaimed Mr. Grant, with great
simplicity, dropping the sermon he was again
reading, and raising his spectacles, from before
his eyes, to the top of his forehead.

“A twelve-pounder!” echoed Benjamin, staring
around him, with much confidence; “a twelve-pounder!
ay! a twenty-four pound shot can easily
be taken from a man's body, if- o-be a doctor
only knows how. There's Squire Jones, now,
ask him, sir; he reads all the books; ask him, if
he never fell in with a page, that keeps the reckoning
of such things.”

“Certainly, more important operations than
that have been performed,” observed Richard;

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[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

“the Encyclopædia mentions much more incredible
circumstances than that, as, I dare say, you
know, Doctor Todd.”

“Certainly, there are incredible tales told of
such matters,” returned Elnathan, “though I cannot
say, that I have ever seen, myself, any thing
larger than a musket bullet extracted.”

During this discourse, an incision had been
made through the skin of the young hunter's
shoulder, and the lead was laid bare. Elnathan
now took into his hand, with a solemn air, a pair
of glittering forceps, and was in the act of applying
them to the wound, when a sudden motion of
the patient, caused the shot to fall out of itself.
The long arm and broad hand of the operator
were now of singular service; for the latter expanded
itself, and caught the lead, while at the
same time, an extremely ambiguous motion was
made, by its brother, so as to leave it doubtful
to the spectator, how great was its agency in releasing
the shot. Richard, however, put the
matter at rest, by exclaiming—

“Very neatly done, Doctor! I have never
seen a shot more neatly extracted; and, I dare
say, Benjamin will say the same.”

“Why, considering,” returned Benjamin, “I
must say, that it was ship-shape, and Brister-fashion.—
Now all that the Doctor has to do, is
to clap a couple of plugs in the shot-holes, and
the lad will float in any gale, that blows in these
here hills.”

“I thank you, sir, for what you have done,”
said the youth, with a little distance: “But here
is a man, who will take me under his care, and
spare you all, gentlemen, any further trouble on
my account”

The whole group turned their heads, in surprise,
and beheld, standing at one of the distant
doors of the hall, the person of Indian John.

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CHAPTER VII.

From Susquehanna's utmost springs,
Where savage tribes pursue their game,
His blanket tied with yellow strings,
The shepherd of the forest came.
Freneau.

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

Before the Europeans, or, to use a more significant
term, the Christians, dispossessed the original
owners of the soil, all that section of country,
which contains the New-England States, and
those of the Middle, which lie east of the mountains,
was occupied by two great nations of Indians,
from whom numberless tribes had descended.
But, as the original distinctions between
these nations, were marked by a difference in language,
as well as by repeated and bloody wars,
they never were known to amalgamate, until after
the power and inroads of the whites had reduced
some of the tribes to a state of dependence, that
rendered not only their political, but, considering
the wants and habits of a savage, their animal existence
also, extremely precarious.

These two great divisions consisted, on the one
side, of the Five, or, as they were afterwards called,
the Six Nations, and their allies; and, on the
other, of the Lenni Lenape, or Delawares, with
the numerous and powerful tribes, that owned that
nation as their Grandfather. The former were

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generally called, by the Anglo-Americans, Iroquois,
or the Six Nations, and sometimes Mingoes.
Their appellation, among their rivals,
seems generally to have been the Mengwe, or Maqua.
They consisted of the tribes, or, as their
allies were fond of asserting, in order to raise their
consequence, of the several nations, of the Mohawks,
the Oneidas, the Onondagas, Cayugas,
and Senecas; who ranked, in the consideration,
in the order with which they are named. The
Tuscaroras were admitted to this union, near a
century after its formation, and thus completed the
number to six.

Of the Lenni Lenape, or, as they were called by
the whites, from the circumstance of their holding
their great council-fire on the banks of that river,
the Delaware nation, the principal tribes, besides
that which bore the genetic name, were, the Mahicanni,
Mohicans or Mohegans, and the Nanticokes,
or Néntigoes. Of these, the latter held the
country along the waters of the Chesapeake, and
the seashore; while the Mohegans occupied the
district between the Hudson and the ocean, including
most of New-England. Of course, these
two tribes were the first who were dispossessed of
their lands by the Europeans.

The wars of a portion of the latter, are celebrated
among us, as the wars of King Philip; but
the peaceful policy of William Penn. or Miquon,
as he was termed by the natives, effected its object,
with less difficulty, though not with less certainty.
As the natives gradually disappeared
from the country of the Mohegans, some scattering
families sought a refuge around the councilfire
of the mother tribe, or the Delawares.

This people had been induced to suffer themselves
to be called women, by their old enemies,
the Mingoes, or Iroquois, after the latter, having

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[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

in vain tried the effects of hostility, had recourse
to artifice, in order to circumvent their rivals.—
According to this declaration, the Delawares
were to cultivate the arts of peace, and to intrust
their defence, entirely, to the men, or warlike
tribes of the Six nations.

This state of things continued until the war of
the revolution, when the Lenni Lenape formally
asserted their independence, and fearlessly declared,
that they were again men. But, in a government,
so peculiarly republican as the Indian polity,
it was not, at all times, an easy task, to restrain
their members within the rules of their nation.
Several fierce and renowned warriors, of
the Mohegans, finding the conflict with the whites
to be in vain, sought a refuge with their Grandfather,
and brought with them the feelings and
principles, that had so long distinguished them in
their own tribe. These chieftains kept alive, in
some measure, the martial spirit of the Delawares;
and would, at times, lead small parties against
their ancient enemies, or such other foes as incurred
their resentment.

Among these warriors, was one race, particularly
famous for their prowess, and for those qualities
that render an Indian hero celebrated. But
time, disease, and want, had conspired to thin
their number; and the sole representative of this
once renowned family, now stood in the hall of
Marmaduke Temple. He had, for a long time
been an associate of the white-men, particularly
in their wars; and, having been, at a season
when his services were of importance, much noticed
and flattered, he had turned Christian, and
was baptized by the name of John. He had suffered
severely in his family, during the recent
war, having had every soul to whom he was allied,
cut off by an inroad of the enemy; and when

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[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]

the last, lingering remnant of his nation, extinguished
their fires, amongst the hills of the Delaware,
he alone had remained, with a determination
of laying his bones in that country, where
his fathers had so long lived and governed.

It was only, however, within a few months, that
he had appeared among the mountains that surrounded
Templeton. To the hut of the old hunter,
he seemed peculiarly welcome; and, as the habits
of the “Leather Stocking,” were so nearly assimilated
to those of the savages, the conjunction
of their interests excited no surprise. They resided
in the same cabin, ate of the same food, and
were chiefly occupied in the same pursuits.

We have already mentioned the baptismal name
of this ancient chief; but in his conversations with
Natty, held in the language of the Delawares, he
was heard uniformly to call himself Chingachgook,
which, interpreted, means the “Great Snake.”
This was a name that he had attained in his youth,
by his skill and prowess in the art of war; but
when his brows began to wrinkle with time, and
he stood alone, the last of his family, and his particular
tribe, the few Delawares, who yet continued
about the head-waters of their river, gave him
the expressive appellation of Mohegan. Perhaps
there was something of deep feeling, excited in the
bosom of this inhabitant of the forest, by the sound
of a name, that recalled the idea of his nation in
ruins, for he seldom used it himself—never, indeed,
excepting on the most solemn occasions;
but the settlers had united, according to the Christian
custom, his baptismal with his national name,
and to them, he was generally known as John
Mohegan, or, more familiarly as Indian John.

From his long association with the white men,
the habits of Mohegan, were a mixture of the

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[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

civilized and savage states, though there was certainly
a strong preponderance in favour of the
latter. In common with all his people, who dwelt
within the influence of the Anglo-Americans, he
had acquired new wants, and his dress was a mixture
of his native fashions with European manufactures.
Notwithstanding the intense cold of the
atmosphere without, his head was uncovered;
but a profusion of long, black, coarse hair, concealed
his forehead, his crown, and even hung
about his cheeks, so as to convey the idea, to one
who knew his present and former conditions, that
he encouraged its abundance, as a willing veil, to
hide the shame of a noble soul, mourning for a
glory that it had once known. His forehead, when
it could be seen, appeared lofty, broad, and noble.
His nose was high, and of the kind called Roman,
with nostrils, that expanded, in his seventieth year,
with the air of freedom that had distinguished them
when a youth. His mouth was large, but compressed,
and possessing a great share of expression
and character, and, when opened, discovered
a perfect set of short, strong, and regular teeth.
His chin was full, though not prominent; and his
face bore the infallible mark of his people, in its
square, high cheek bones. The eyes were not large,
but their black orbs glittered in the rays of the
candles, as he gazed intently down the hall, like
two balls of fire.

The instant that Mohegan observed himself to
be noticed by the group around the young stranger,
he dropped the blanket, which covered the
upper part of his frame, from his shoulders, suffering
it to fall over his leggins, of untanned deerskin,
where it was retained by a belt of bark, that
confined it to his waist, and moved forward.

As he walked slowly down the long hall, the
unusually dignified and deliberate tread of the

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Indian, surprised the spectators. His shoulders,
and body to his waist, were entirely bare, with
the exception of a silver medallion of Washington,
that was suspended from his neck by a thong of
buck-skin, and rested on his high chest, amidst the
scars of many wounds. His shoulders were rather
broad and full; but the arms, though straight and
graceful, wanted the muscular appearance that labour
alone can give to a race of men. The medallion
was the only ornament he wore, although
enormous slits in the rim of either ear, which suffered
the cartilages to fall for two inches below the
members, were evidently used for the purposes of
decoration, in other days. In his hand he held a
small basket, of the ash-wood slips, coloured in divers
fantastical conceits, with red and black paints
mingled with the white of the wood.

As this child of the forest approached them, the
whole party stood aside, and allowed him to confront
the evident object of his visit. He did not
speak, however, but stood, fixing his glowing eyes
on the shoulder of the young hunter, and then
turning them intently on the countenance of the
Judge. The latter was a good deal astonished
at this unusual departure from the ordinarily subdued
and quiet manner of the Indian; but soon
recovering himself, he extended his hand, and
said—

“Thou art welcome, John. This youth entertains
a high opinion of thy skill, it seems, for he
prefers thee, to dress his wound, even to our good
friend Dr. Todd.”

Mohegan now spoke, in tolerable English, but
in a low, monotonous, guttural tone:—

“The children of Miquon do not love the
sight of blood; and yet, the young eagle has
been struck by the hand that should do no evil!”

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“Mohegan! old John!” exclaimed the Judge,
in horror, and turning his fine, manly, open countenance
to the other; “thinkest thou, that my hand
has ever drawn human blood willingly? For
shame! for shame, old John! thy religion should
have taught thee better.”

“The evil spirit sometimes lives in the best
heart,” returned John, impressively, as he tried to
study the countenance of the Judge; “but, my
brother speaks the truth; his hand has never taken
life, when awake; no! not even when the children
of the great English Father, were making the waters
red with the blood of his people.”

“Surely, John,” said Mr. Grant, with much
earnestness, “you remember the divine command
of our Saviour, `judge not, lest ye be judged.'
What motive could Judge Temple have, for injuring
a youth like this; one to whom he is unknown,
and from whom he can receive neither injury nor
favour?”

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

“He is innocent—my brother has not done this
wrong.”

Marmaduke received the offered hand of the
other, with a benevolent smile, that showed, however
he might be astonished at his suspicion, he
had ceased to resent it; while the wounded youth
stood, gazing from his red friend to his host, with
an expression of scornful pity, powerfully delineated
in his countenance. No sooner was this act
of pacification exchanged, than John proceeded to
discharge the duty, to perform which he had
come. Dr. Todd was far from manifesting any
displeasure at this invasion of his rights, but
made way for the new leech, with an air that expressed
a willingness to gratify the humours of

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his patient, now that the all-important part of the
business was so successfully performed, and nothing
remained to be done, but what any child
might effect. Indeed, he whispered as much to
Monsieur Le Quoi, when he said—

“It was fortunate that the ball was extracted
before this Indian came in; but any old woman
can dress the wound now. The young man, I
hear, lives with John and Natty Bumppo, and it's
always best to humour a patient, when it can be
done discreetly—I say, discreetly, Mounsheer.”

“Certainement,” returned the Frenchman;
“you seem ver happy, Mister Toad, in your practeece.
I should tink de elderly lady might ver
well finish, vat you so skeelfully begin.”

But Richard had, at the bottom, a great deal of
veneration for the knowledge of Mohegan, especially
in external wounds; and retaining all his
desire for a participation in glory, he advanced
nigh to the Indian, and said—

“Sago, sago, Mohegan! sago, my good fellow!
I am right glad you have come; give me a regular
physician, like Doctor Todd, to cut into flesh,
and a native to heal the wound. Do you remember,
John, the time when I and you set the bone
of Natty Bumppo's little finger, after he broke it
by falling from the rock, when he was trying to
get the partridge down, that fell on the cliffs. I
never could tell yet, whether it was I or Natty,
who killed that bird: he fired first, and the bird
stooped, but then it was rising again, just as I
pulled trigger. I should have claimed it, for a
certainty, but Natty said the hole was too big for
shot, and he fired a single ball from his rifle; but
the piece I carried then, didn't scatter, and I have
known it to bore a hole through a board, when
I've been shooting at the mark, very much like

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rifle-bullets. Shall I help you, John? “You know
that I have a knack at these things.”

Mohegan heard this disquisition quite patiently,
and when Richard concluded, he held out the
basket, which contained his specifics, indicating,
by a gesture, that he might hold it. Mr. Jones
was quite satisfied with this commission; and, ever
after, in speaking of the event, was used to say,
that “Doctor Todd and I cut out the bullet and
I and Indian John dressed the wound.”

The patient was much more deserving of that
epithet, while under the hands of Mohegan, than
while suffering under the practice of the true physician.
Indeed, the Indian gave him but little opportunity
for the exercise of a forbearing temper,
as he had come prepared for the occasion. His
dressings were soon applied, and consisted only
of some pounded bark, moistened with a fluid
that he had expressed from some of the simples of
the woods.

Among the native tribes of the forest, there
were always two kinds of leeches to be met with.
The one placed its whole dependence on the exercise
of a supernatural power, and was held in
greater veneration than their practice could at all
justify; but the other was really endowed with
great skill, in the ordinary complaints of the human
body, and were, more particularly, as Natty
had intimated, “curous in cuts and bruises.”

While John and Richard were placing the
dressings on the wound, Elnathan was acutely
eyeing the contents of Mohegan's basket, which
Mr. Jones, in his physical ardour, had transferred
to the Doctor, in order to hold, himself, one end
of the bandages. Here he was soon enabled to
detect sundry fragments of wood and bark, of
which he, quite coolly, took possession, very possibly
without any intention of speaking at all upon

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the subject; but when he beheld the full, blue eye
of Marmaduke, watching his movements, he whispered
to the Judge—

“It is not to be denied, Judge Temple, but
what the savages are knowing, in small matters of
physic. They hand these things down in their
traditions. Now, in cancers, and hydrophoby,
they are quite ingenious. I will just take this
bark home, and analyze it; for, though it can't
be worth sixpence to the young man's shoulder, it
may be good for the toothach, or rheumatis, or
some of them complaints. A man should never
be above larning, even if it be from an Indian.”

It was fortunate for Dr. Todd, that his principles
were so liberal, as, coupled with his practice,
they were the means by which he acquired all his
knowledge, and by which he was gradually qualifying
himself for the duties of his profession.
The process to which he subjected the specific, differed,
however, greatly from the ordinary rules of
chemistry; for, instead of separating, he afterwards
united the component parts of Mohegan's remedy,
and thus was able to discover the tree whence the
Indian had taken it.

Some ten years after this event, when civilization
and its refinements had crept, or rather rushed, into
the settlements among these wild hills, an affair
of honour occurred, and Elnathan was seen to apply
a salve to the wound that was received by one
of the parties, which had the flavour that was peculiar
to the tree, or root, that Mohegan had used.
Ten years later still, when England and the United
States were again engaged in war, and the
hordes of the western parts of the state of NewYork,
were rushing to the field, Elnathan, presuming
on the reputation obtained by these two operations,
followed in the rear of a brigade of militia,
as its surgeon!

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When Mohegan had applied the bark, he freely
relinquished to Richard the needle and thread,
that were used in sowing the bandages, for these
were implements of which the native but little understood
the use; and, stepping back, with decent
gravity, awaited the completion of the business by
the other.

“Reach me the scissors,” said Mr. Jones, when
he had finished, and finished for the second time,
after tying the linen in every shape and form
that it could be placed; “reach me the scissors,
for here is a thread that must be cut off, or it
might get under the dressings, and inflame the
wound. See, John, I have put the lint I scraped,
between two layers of the linen; for though the
bark is certainly best for the flesh, yet the lint
will serve to keep the cold air from the wound.
If any lint will do it good, it is this lint; for I
scraped it myself, and I will not turn my back, at
scraping lint, to any man on the Patent. But I
ought to know how, if any body ought, for my
grandfather was a doctor, and my father had a natural
turn that way.”

“Here, Squire, is the scissors,” said Remarkable,
producing from beneath her petticoat of green
moreen, a pair of dull-looking shears; “well, upon
my say so, you have sewed on the rags, as well
as a woman.”

“As well as a woman!” echoed Richard, with
indignation; “what do women know of such matters?
and you are proof of the truth of what I
say. Who ever saw such a pair of shears used
about a wound? Dr. Todd, I will thank you for
the scissors from the case. Now, young man, I
think you'll do. The shot has been very neatly
taken out, although, perhaps, seeing I had a hand
in it, I ought not to say so; and the wound is
most admirably dressed. You will soon be well

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again; though the jerk you gave my leaders, must
have a tendency to inflame the shoulder, yet, you
will do, you will do. You were rather flurried, I
suppose, and not used to horses; but I forgive the
accident, for the motive:—no doubt, you had the
best of motives;—yes, yes, now you will do.”

“Then, gentlemen,” said the wounded stranger,
rising, and resuming his clothes, “it will be
unnecessary for me to trespass longer on your
time and patience. There remains but one thing
more to be settled, and that is, our respective rights
to the deer, Judge Temple.”

“I acknowledge it to be thine,” said Marmaduke;
“and much more deeply am I indebted to
thee, than for this piece of venison. But in the
morning thou wilt call here, and we can adjust
this, as well as more important matters. Elizabeth,”—
for the young lady, being apprised that
the wound was dressed, had re-entered the hall,—
“thou wilt order a repast, for this youth, before
we proceed to the church; and Aggy will have a
sleigh prepared, to convey him to his friend.”

“But, sir, I cannot go without a part of the
deer,” returned the youth, seemingly struggling
with his own feelings: “I have already told you,
that I needed the venison for myself.”

“Oh! we will not be particular,” exclaimed
Richard; “the Judge will pay you, in the morning,
for the whole deer; and, Remarkable, give
the lad all of the animal excepting the saddle: so,
on the whole, I think, you may consider yourself
as a very lucky young man;—you have been
shot, without being disabled; have had the wound
dressed in the best possible manner, here in the
woods, as well as it would have been done in the
Philadelphia hospital, if not better; have sold
your deer at a high price and yet can keep most
of the carcass, with the skin in the bargain.

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[figure description] Page 105.[end figure description]

'Marky, tell Tom to give him the skin too; and in the
morning, bring the skin to me, and I will give
you half-a-dollar for it, or at least, three-and-six-pence.
I want just such a skin, to cover the pillion
that I am making for cousin Bess.”

“I thank you, sir, for your liberality, and, I
trust, am also thankful for my escape,” returned
the stranger; “but you reserve the very part of
the animal that I wish for my own use. I must
have the saddle myself.”

“Must!” echoed Richard; “must is harder to
be swallowed than the horns of the buck.”

“Yes, must,” repeated the youth; when, turning
his head proudly around him, as if to see who
would dare to controvert his rights, he met the
astonished gaze of Elizabeth, and proceeded more
mildly—“that is, if a man is allowed the possession
of that which his hand hath killed, and the
law will protect him in the enjoyment of his
own.”

“The law will do so,” said Judge Temple,
with an air of mortification, mingled with surprise.
“Benjamin, see that the whole deer is placed
in the sleigh; and have this youth conveyed
to the hut of Leather-stocking. But, young man,
thou hast a name, and I shall see you again, in
order to compensate thee for the wrong I have
done thee?”

“I am called Edwards,” returned the hunter,
“Oliver Edwards. I am easily to be seen, sir,
for I live nigh by, and am not afraid to show my
face, having never injured any man.”

“It is we, who have injured you sir,” said Elizabeth;
“and the knowledge that you decline
our assistance would give my father great pain.
He would gladly see you in the morning.”

The young hunter gazed at the fair speaker,

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until his earnest look brought the blood to her
very temples; when, recollecting himself, he bent
his head, dropping his eyes to the carpet, and replied—

“In the morning, then, will I return, and see
Judge Temple; and I will accept his offer of the
sleigh, in token of our amity.”

“Amity!” repeated Marmaduke; “there was
no malice in the act that injured thee, young man;
there should be none in the feelings which it may
engender.”

“Forgive our trespasses, as we forgive those
who trespass against us,” observed Mr. Grant, “is
the language of prayer, used by our Divine Master
himself, and it should be the golden rule of us,
his humble followers.”

The stranger stood a moment, lost in thought,
and then, glancing his dark eyes, rather wildly,
around the hall, he bowed low to the divine, and
moved from the apartment, with an air that would
not admit of detention.

“'Tis strange, that one so young should harbour
such feelings of resentment,” said Marmaduke,
when the door closed behind the stranger;
“but while the pain is recent, and the sense of the
injury is so fresh, he must feel more stongly than
in his cooler moments. I doubt not, we shall see
him, in the morning, more tractable.”

Elizabeth, to whom this speech was addressed,
did not reply, but moved slowly up the hall, by
herself, fixing her eyes on the little figure of the
English ingrained carpet, that covered the floor;
while, on the other hand. Richard gave a loud
crack with his whip, as the stranger disappeared,
and cried—

“Well, 'duke, you are your own master, but I
would have tried law for the saddle, before I would
have given it to the fellow. Do you not own the

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[figure description] Page 107.[end figure description]

mountains, as well as the valleys? are not the
woods your own? what right has this chap, or
the Leather-stocking, to shoot in your woods,
without your permission? Now, I have known
a farmer, in Pennsylvania, order a sportsman off
his farm, with as little ceremony as I would order
Benjamin to put a log in the stove. By-the-by,
Benjamin, see how the thermometer stands.
Now, if a man has a right to do this on a farm
of a hundred acres, what power must a landlord
have, who owns sixty thousand—ay! for the matter
of that, including the late purchases, a hundred
thousand? There is Mohegan, to be-sure,
he may have some right, being a native; but it's
little the poor fellow can do now with his rifle.
How is this managed in France, Monsieur Le
Quoi? do you let every body run over your land,
in that country, helter-skelter, as they do here,
shooting the game, so that a gentleman has but
little or no chance with his gun?”

“Bah! diable, no, Meester Deeck,” replied the
Frenchman; “we give, in France, no liberty, except
to de ladi.”

“Yes, yes, to the women, I know,” said Richard;
“that is your Sallick law. I read, sir, all
kinds of books; of France, as well as England;
of Greece, as well as Rome. But if I were in
'duke's place, I would stick up advertisements tomorrow
morning, forbidding all persons to shoot,
or trespass, in any manner, on my woods. I
could write such an advertisement myself, in an
hour, as would put a stop to the thing at once.”

“Richart,” said Major Hartmann, very coolly
knocking the ashes from his pipe into the spittingbox
by his side, “now listen: I have livet seventy-five
years on ter Mohawk, and in ter woots.—
You hat petter mettle as mit ter deyvel, as mit ter

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hunters. Tey live mit ter gun, and a rifle is
petter as ter law.”

“A'nt Marmaduke a Judge?” said Richard,
indignantly. “Where is the use of being a Judge,
or having a Judge, if there is no law? Damn the
fellow! I have a great mind to sue him in the
morning myself, before Squire Doolittle, for meddling
with my leaders. I am not afraid of his rifle.
I can shoot too. I have hit a dollar, many
a time, at fifty rods.”

“Thou hast missed more dollars than ever thou
hast hit, Dickon,” exclaimed the cheerful voice of
the Judge again.—“But we will now take our
evening's repast, which, I perceive by Remarkable's
physiognomy, is in the next room. Monsieur
Le Quoi, Miss Temple has a fair hand, at your
service. Will you lead the way, my child?”

“Ah! ma chere Mam'selle, but too happy to
do so,” said the polite Frenchman, while he offered
his hand; “it is de consolashong, in my baneesh,
to meet a smile from de fair ladi.”

Mr. Grant and Mohegan, continued in the hall,
while the remainder of the party withdrew to an
eating parlour, if we except Benjamin, who civilly
remained, to close the rear after the divine, and to
open the front door, for the exit of the Indian.

“John,” said the divine, when the figure of
Judge Temple disappeared, the last of the group,
“to-morrow is the festival of the nativity of our
blessed Redeemer, when the church has appointed
prayers and thanksgivings, to be offered up by
her children, and when all are invited to partake
of the mystical elements. As you have taken up
the cross, and become a follower of good, and an
eschewer of evil, John, I trust I shall see you before
the altar, with a contrite heart and a meek
spirit.”

“John will come,” said the Indian, betraying

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no surprise, though he did not understand all the
terms used by the other.

“Yes,” continued Mr. Grant, laying his hand
gently on the tawny shoulder of the aged chief,
“but it is not enough to be there in the body only;
you must come in the spirit, and in truth. The
Redeemer died for all, for the poor Indian, as
well as for the white man. Heaven knows no difference
in colour; nor must earth witness a separation
of the church. It is good and profitable,
John, to freshen the understanding, and support
the wavering, by the observance of our holy festivals;
but all form is but stench, in the nostrils of
the Holy One, unless it be accompanied by a devout
and humble spirit.”

The Indian stepped back a little, and, raising
his body to its utmost powers of erection, he
stretched his right arm on high, and dropped his
fore-finger downward, as if pointing from the heavens,
and striking his other hand on his naked
breast, he said, with energy—

“The eye of the Great Spirit can see from the
clouds;—the bosom of Mohegan is bare!”

“It is well, John, and I hope you will receive
profit and consolation from the performance of
this duty. The Great Spirit overlooks none of
his children; and the man of the woods is as
much an object of his care, as he who dwells in a
palace. I wish you a good night, and pray God
to bless you.”

The Indian bent his head, and they separated—
the one to seek his hut, and the other to join the
party at the supper-table. While Benjamin was
opening the door for the passage of the chief, he
cried, in a tone that was meant to be quite consoling—

“The parson says the word that is true, John.
If-so-be that they took count of the colour of a

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skin in heaven, why, they might refuse to muster
on their books a christian-born, like myself, just
for the matter of a little tan, from cruising in
warm latitudes; though, for the matter of that, this
damned nor-wester is enough to whiten the skin of
a blackamoor. Let the reefs out of your blanket,
man, or your red hide will hardly weather the
night, without a touch from the frost.”

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CHAPTER VIII.

For here the exile met from every clime,
And spoke, in friendship, every distant tongue.
Campbell.

[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]

We have made our readers acquainted with
some variety in character and nations, in introducing
the most important personages of this legend
to their notice: but, in order to establish the
fidelity of our narrative, we will briefly attempt to
explain the “why and wherefore” of so motley a
dramatis personæ.

Europe was, at the period of our tale, in the
commencement of that mighty commotion which
afterwards shook her political institutions to their
centre. Louis the Sixteenth had been beheaded,
and a nation, once esteemed the most refined
amongst the civilized people of the world, was
changing her character, and substituting cruelty
for mercy, and subtlety and ferocity for magnanimity
and courage. Thousands of Frenchmen
were compelled to seek protection in distant lands.
Among the crowds who fled from France and her
islands, to the United States of America, was the
gentleman whom we have already mentioned as
Monsieur Le Quoi. He had been recommended
to the favour of Judge Temple, by the head of an
eminent mercantile house in New-York, with

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whom Marmaduke was in habits of intimacy, and
accustomed to an exchange of good offices. At
his first interview with the Frenchman, our Judge
had discovered him to be a man of breeding, and
one who had seen much more prosperous days in
his own country. From certain hints that had
escaped him, Monsieur Le Quoi was suspected of
having been a West-India planter, great numbers
of whom had fled from St. Domingo and the
other islands, and were now living in the Union,
in a state of comparative poverty, and some in
absolute want. The latter was not, however, the
lot of Monsieur Le Quoi. He had but little, he
acknowledged, but that little was enough to furnish,
in the language of the country, an “assortment
for a store.”

The knowledge of Marmaduke was eminently
practical, and there was no part of a settler's life
with which he was not familiar. Under his direction,
Monsieur Le Quoi made some purchases,
consisting of a few cloths; some groceries, with a
good deal of tea and tobacco; a quantity of ironware,
among which was a large proportion of
Barlow's jack-knives, potash-kettles, and spiders;
a very formidable collection of crockery, of the
coarsest quality, and most uncouth forms; together
with every other common article that the
art of man has devised for his wants, not forgetting
the luxuries of looking-glasses and Jew'sharps.
With this collection of valuables, Monsieur
Le Quoi had stepped behind a counter, and,
with a wonderful pliability of temperament, had
dropped into his assumed character as gracefully
as he had ever moved in any other. The gentleness
and suavity of his manners rendered him
extremely popular; besides this, the women soon
discovered that he had a taste. His calicoes were
the finest, or, in other words, the most showy, of

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any that were brought into the country; and it
were impossible to look at the prices, asked for
his goods, by “so pretty a spoken man.” Through
these conjoint means, the affairs of Monsieur Le
Quoi were again in a prosperous condition, and
he was looked up to by the settlers as the second
best man on the “Patent.”

This term, Patent, which we have already used,
and for which we may have further occasion,
meant the district of country that had been originally
granted to old Major Effingham, by the
“King's letters patent,” and which had now become,
by purchase under the act of confiscation,
the property of Marmaduke Temple. It was a
term in common use, throughout the new parts of
the state, and was usually annexed to the landlord's
name, as “Temple's, or Effingham's Patent.”

Major Hartmann was the descendant of a man,
who, in company with a number of his countrymen,
had migrated, with their families, from the
banks of the Rhine, to those of the Mohawk.
This transmigration had occurred as far back as
the reign of Queen Anne; and their descendants
were now living, in great peace and plenty, on
the fertile borders of that beautiful stream.

The Germans, or “High Dutchers,” as they were
called, to distinguish them from the original, or
Low Dutch colonists, were a very peculiar people.
They possessed all the gravity of the latter,
without any of their phlegm; and, like them, the
“High Dutchers” were industrious, honest, and
economical.

Fritz, or Frederick Hartmann, was an epitome
of all the vices and virtues, foibles and excellences,
of his race. He was passionate, though silent,
obstinate, and a good deal suspicious of
strangers; of immoveable courage, inflexible honesty,
and undeviating in his friendships. Indeed,

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there was no change about him, unless it were
from grave to gay. He was serious by months,
and jolly by weeks. He had, early in their acquaintance,
formed an attachment for Marmaduke
Temple, who was the only man, that could not
talk High Dutch, that ever gained his entire confidence.
Four times in each year, at periods
equi-distant, he left his low stone dwelling, on the
banks of the Mohawk, and travelled the thirty
miles, through the hills, to the door of the mansion-house
in Templeton. Here he generally staid a
week, and was reputed to spend much of that time
in riotous living, countenanced by Mr. Richard
Jones. But every one loved him, even to Remarkable
Pettibone, to whom he occasioned some additional
trouble; he was so frank, so sincere, and, at
times, so mirthful. He was now in his regular
Christmas visit, and had not been in the village
an hour, when Richard summoned him to fill a
seat in the sleigh, to meet the landlord and his
daughter.

Before explaining the character and situation
of Mr. Grant, it will be necessary to recur to
times far back in the brief history of the settlement.

There seems to be a tendency in human nature
to endeavour to provide for the wants of this
world, before our attention is turned to the business
of the other. Religion was a quality but little
cultivated, amid the stumps of Temple's Patent,
for the first few years of its settlement; but
as most of its inhabitants were from the moral
states of Connecticut and Massachusetts, when
the wants of nature were satisfied, they began seriously
to turn their attention to the introduction
of those customs and observances, which had been
the principal care of their forefathers. There was
certainly a great variety of opinions, on the

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subject of grace and free-will amongst the tenantry
of Marmaduke; and, when we take into consideration
the variety of the religious instruction which
they received, it can easily be seen, that it could
not well be otherwise.

Soon after the village had been formally laid
out, into the streets and blocks that resembled a
city, a meeting of its inhabitants had been convened,
to take into consideration the propriety of
establishing an Academy! This measure originated
with Richard, who, in truth, was much disposed
to have the institution designated a University,
or at least a College. Meeting after
meeting was held, for this purpose, year after year.
The resolutions of these assemblages appeared in
the most conspicuous columns of a little, bluelooking
newspaper, that was already issued weekly
from the garret of a dwelling-house in the village,
and which the traveller might as often see,
stuck into the fissure of a stake, that had been
erected, at the point where the footpath from the
log cabin of some settler entered the highway, as
a post-office for an individual. Sometimes the
stake supported a small box, and a whole neighbourhood
received a weekly supply, for their literary
wants, at this point, where the man who
“rides post,” regularly deposited a bundle of the
precious commodity. To these flourishing resolutions,
which briefly recounted the general utility
of education, the political and geographical rights
of the village of Templeton, to a participation in
the favours of the regents of the university, and the
salubrity of the air, and wholesomeness of the water,
together with the cheapness of food, and the
superior state of morals in the neighbourhood,
were uniformly annexed, in large Roman capitals,
the names of Marmaduke Temple, as chairman,
and Richard Jones, as secretary.

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Happily for the success of this undertaking, the
regents were not accustomed to resist these appeals
to their generosity, whenever there was the
prospect of a donation to second the request.
Eventually, Judge Temple concluded to bestow
the necessary land, and to erect the required edifice
chiefly at his own expense. The skill of Mr.,
or, as he was now called, from the circumstance of
his having received the commission of a justice of
the peace, Squire Doolittle, was again put in requisition,
and the science of Mr. Jones was once
more restored to.

We shall not recount the different devices of
these architects on the occasion; nor would it be
decorous so to do, seeing that there was a convocation
of the society of the ancient and honourable
fraternity “of the free and accepted masons,”
at the head of whom was Richard, in the capacity
of master, doubtless to approve or reject, such of
the plans as, in their wisdom, they deemed to be
for the best. The knotty point was, however,
soon decided; and, on the appointed day, the
brotherhood marched, in great state, displaying
sundry banners and mysterious symbols, each
man with a little mimic apron before him, from a
most cunningly contrived appartment in the garret
of the “Bold Dragoon,” an inn, kept by one
Captain Hollister, to the site of the intended edifice.
Here Richard laid the corner-stone, with
great state, amidst an assemblage of more than
half the men, and all the women, within ten miles
of Templeton.

In the course of the succeeding week, there was
another meeting of the people, not omitting
swarms of the gentler sex, when the abilities of
Hiram, at the “square rule,” were put to the test

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of experiment. The frame fitted well; and the
skeleton of the fabric was reared without a single
accident, if we except a few falls from horses,
while the labourers were returning home in the
dusk of the evening. From this time, the work
advanced with great rapidity, and in the course of
the season, the labour was completed; the edifice
standing, in all its beauty and proportions, the
boast of the village, the study of the young aspirants
for architectural fame, and the admiration of
every settler on the Patent.

It was a long, narrow house, of wood, painted
white, and more than half windows; and when
the observer stood at the western side of the building,
the edifice offered but a small obstacle to a
full view of the rising sun. It was, in truth, but
a very comfortless, open place, through which the
daylight shone with prodigious facility. On its
front were divers ornaments, in wood, designed
by Richard, and executed by Hiram; but a window
in the centre of the second story, immediately
over the door, or grand entrance, and the “steeple,”
were the pride of the building. The former
was, we believe, of the composite order, for it included
in its composition a multitude of ornaments,
and a great variety in figure. It consisted
of an arched compartment in the centre, with a
square, and smaller division on either side, the
whole encased in heavy frames, deeply and laboriously
moulded in pine wood, and lighted with a
vast number of blurred and green-looking glass,
of those dimensions which are commonly called
“eight by ten.” Blinds, that were intended to
be painted green, kept the window in a state of
preservation, and probably might have contributed
to the effect of the whole, had not the failure in
the public funds, which seems always to be incidental
to any undertaking of this kind, left them

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in the sombre coat of lead colour with which they
had been originally clothed. The “steeple” was
a little cupola, reared on the very centre of the
roof, on four tall pillars of pine, that were fluted
with a gouge, and loaded with mouldings. On
the tops of the columns was reared a dome, or cupola,
resembling in shape an inverted tea-cup
without its bottom, from the centre of which projected
a spire, or shaft of wood, transfixed with two
iron rods, that bore on their ends the letters N. S.
E. and W., in the same metal. The whole was
surmounted by an imitation of one of the finny
tribe, carved in wood, by the hands of Richard,
and painted, what he called, a “scale-colour.”
This animal Mr. Jones affirmed to be an admirable
resemblance of a great favourite of the epicures
in that country, which bore the title of
“lake-fish;” and doubtless the assertion was true;
for, although intended to answer the purposes of
a weathercock, the fish was observed invariably
to look, with a longing eye, in the direction of the
beautiful sheet of water that lay imbedded in the
mountains of Templeton.

For a short time after the charter of the regents
was received, the trustees of this institution employed
a graduate of one of the eastern colleges,
to instruct such youth as aspired to knowledge,
within the walls of the edifice which we have described.
The upper part of the building was in
one apartment, and was intended for gala-days
and exhibitions; and the lower contained two,
that were intended for the great divisions of education,
viz. the Latin and the English scholars. The
former were never very numerous; though the
sounds of “nominative, pennaa; genitive, penny,
were soon heard to issue from the windows of the
room, to the great delight and manifest edification
of the passengers.

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Only one labourer in this temple of Minerva,
however, was known to get so far as to attempt a
translation of Virgil. He, indeed, appeared at
the annual exhibition, to the prodigious exultation
of all his relatives, a farmer's family in the vicinity,
and repeated the whole of the first eclogue
from memory, observing the intonations of the
dialogue with much judgment and effect. The
sounds, as they proceeded from his mouth, of


“Titty-ree too patty-lee ree-coo-bans sub teg-mi-nee faa-gy
Syl-ves-trem ten-oo-i moo-sam med-i taa-ris aa-ve-ny”—
were the last that had been heard in that building,
as probably they were the first that had ever been
heard, in the same language, there or any where
else. For by this time the trustees had discovered,
that they had anticipated the age, and the
instructor, or principal, was superseded by a master,
who went on to teach the more humble lesson
of “the more haste the worse speed,” in good,
plain English.

From this time, until the date of our incidents,
the Academy was a common country school; and
the great room of the building was sometimes used
as a court-room, on extraordinary trials; sometimes
for conferences of the religious and the morally
disposed in the evening; at others for a ball
in the afternoon, given under the auspices of Richard;
and on Sundays, invariably, as a place of
public worship.

When an itinerant priest, of the persuasion of
the Methodists, Baptists, Universalists, or of the
more numerous sect of the Presbyterians, was accidentally
in the neighbourhood, he was ordinarily
invited to officiate, and was commonly rewarded
for his services by a collection in a hat, before
the congregation separated. When no such regular
minister offered, a kind of colloquial prayer

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or two was made, by some of the more gifted
members, and a sermon was usually read, from
Sterne, by Mr Richard Jones.

The consequence of this desultory kind of
priesthood was, as we have already intimated, a
great diversity in opinion, on the more abstruse
points of our faith. Each sect had its adherents,
though neither was regularly organized and disciplined.
Of the religious education of Marmaduke,
we have already written, nor was the doubtful
character of his faith completely removed by
his marriage. The mother of Elizabeth was an
Episcopalian, as, indeed, was the mother of the
Judge himself; and the good taste of Marmaduke
revolted at the familiar colloquies which the leaders
of the conferences held with the Deity, in
their nightly meetings. In form, he was certainly
an Episcopalian, though not a sectary of that denomination.
On the other hand, Richard was as
rigid in the observance of the canons of his
church, as he was inflexible in his opinions. Indeed,
he had once or twice essayed to introduce
the Episcopal form of service, on the Sundays
that their pulpit was vacant; but Richard was a
good deal addicted to carrying all things to an excess,
and then there was something so papal in his
air, that the greater part of his hearers deserted
him on the second Sabbath—on the third, his only
auditor was Ben Pump!

Before the war of the revolution, the English
church was supported, in their colonies, with much
interest, by some of its adherents in the mother
country, and a few of the congregations were very
amply endowed. But, for a season, after the independence
of the states was established, this sect
of Christians languished, for the want of the highest
order of its priesthood. Pious and suitable
divines were at length selected, and sent to the

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mother country, to receive that authority, which,
it is understood, can only be transmitted directly
from one to the other, and thus obtain, in order
to preserve, that unity in their churches,
which properly belonged to a people of the same
nation. But unexpected difficulties presented
themselves, in the oaths with which the policy of
England had fettered their establishment; and much
time was spent, before a conscientious sense of duty
would permit the prelates of Britain to delegate
the authority which was so earnestly sought.
Time, patience, and zeal, however, removed every
impediment; and the venerable men, who had been
set apart by the American churches, at length returned
to their expecting diocesses, endowed with
the most elevated functions of their earthly church.
Priests and deacons were ordained; and missionaries
provided, to keep alive the expiring flame of
devotion in such members as were deprived of
the ordinary ministrations, by dwelling in new
and unorganized districts.

Of this number was Mr. Grant. He had been
sen into the county of which Templeton was the
capital, and had been kindly invited by Marmaduke,
and officiously pressed by Richard, to take
up his abode in the village itself. A small and
humble dwelling was prepared for his family, and
the divine had made his appearance in the place,
but a few days previously to the time of his introduction
to the reader. As his forms were entirely
new to most of the inhabitants, and a clergyman
of another denomination had previously occupied
the field, by engaging the academy, the
first Sunday after his arrival was suffered to pass
in silence; but now that his rival had passed on,
like a meteor, filling the air with the light of his
wisdom, Richard was empowered to give notice,
that “Public worship, after the forms of the

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Protestant Episcopal Church, would be held, on
the night before Christmas, in the long-room of
the academy in Templeton, by the Rev. Mr.
Grant.”

This annunciation excited great commotion
among the sectaries to whom it was made. Some
wondered as to the nature of the exhibition; others
sneered; but a far greater part, recollecting the
essays of Richard in that way, and mindful of
the liberality, or rather laxity, of Marmaduke's
notions on the subject of sectarianism, thought it
most prudent to be silent.

The expected evening was, however, the wonder
of the hour; nor was the curiosity at all diminished,
when Richard and Benjamin, on the
morning of the eventful day, were seen to issue
from the woods in the neighbourhood of the village,
each bearing on his shoulders a large bunch
of evergreens. This worthy pair was observed
to enter the academy, and carefully to fasten the
door, after which their proceedings remained a
profound secret to the rest of the village; Mr.
Jones, before he commenced this mysterious business,
having informed the schoolmaster, to the
great delight of the white-headed flock he governed,
that there could be no school that day. Marmaduke
was apprised of all these preparations, by
letter, and it was especially arranged, that he and
Elizabeth should arrive in season, to participate
in the solemnities of the evening.

After this digression, we shall return to our narrative.

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CHAPTER IX.

Now all admire, in each high-flavour'd dish.
The capabilities of flesh—fowl—fish;
In order due each guest assumes his station.
Throbs high his breast with fond anticipation,
And prelibates the joys of mastication.
Heliogabaliad.

[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]

The apartment to which Monsieur Le Quoi
handed Elizabeth, communicated with the hall,
through the door that led under the urn which was
supposed to contain the ashes of Dido. The
room was spacious, and of very just proportions;
but in its ornaments and furniture, the same diversity
of taste, and imperfection of execution,
were to be observed, as existed in the hall. Of
furniture, there were a dozen green, wooden arm-chairs,
with cushions of moreen, taken from the
same piece as the petticoat of Remarkable. The
tables were spread, and their materials and workmanship
could not be seen; but they were heavy,
and of great size. There was an enormous glass,
in a gilt frame, hung against the wall, and a cheerful
fire, of the hard or sugar-maple, burning on
the hearth. The latter was the first object that
struck the attention of the Judge, who, on beholding
it, exclaimed, rather angrily, to Richard—

“How often have I forbidden the use of the
sugar-maple for fires, in my dwelling. The sight
of that sap, as it exudes with the heat from the

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ends of those logs, is painful to me, Richard.
Really, it behooves the owner of woods so extensive
as mine, to be cautious what example he
sets to his people, who are already felling the forests,
as if no end could be found to their treasures,
nor any limits to their extent. If we go on
in this way, twenty years hence we shall want fuel.

“Fuel in these hills, cousin 'duke!” exclaimed
Richard, in derision—“fuel for our fires! why
you might as well predict, that the fish will die,
for the want of water in the lake, because I intend,
when the frost gets out of the ground, to lead one
or two of the springs, through logs, into the village.
But you are always a little wild on such
subjects, Marmaduke.”

“Is it wildness,” returned the Judge, earnestly,
“to condemn a practice, which devotes these jewels
of the forest, these precious gifts of nature,
these mines of comfort and wealth, to the common
uses of a fire-place? But I must, and will, the
instant that the snow is off the earth, send out a
party into the mountains, to explore for coal.”

“Coal!” echoed Richard; “who the devil do
you think will dig for coal, when in hunting for a
bushel, he would have to rip up more roots of
trees, than would keep him in fuel for a twelvemonth?
Poh! poh! Marmaduke, you should
leave the management of these things to me,
who have a natural turn that way. It was I that
ordered this fire, and a noble one it is, to warm
the blood in the veins of my pretty cousin Bess.”

“The motive, then, must be your apology,
Dickon,” said the Judge.—“But, gentlemen, we
are waiting. Elizabeth, my child, take the head
of the table; Richard, I see, means to spare me
the trouble of carving, by sitting opposite to
you.”

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[figure description] Page 125.[end figure description]

“To be sure I do,” cried Richard; “here is a
turkey to carve, and I flatter myself that I understand
carving a turkey, or, for that matter, a
goose, as well as any man alive. Mr. Grant!
where's Mr. Grant? will you please to say grace,
sir? Every thing is getting cold. Take a thing
from the fire, this cold weather, and it will freeze
in five minutes. Mr. Grant! we want you to say
grace. `For what we are about to receive, the
Lord make us thankful.' Come, sit down, sit
down. Do you eat wing or breast, cousin Bess?”

But Elizabeth had not taken her seat, nor was she
in readiness to receive either the wing or breast.
Her laughing, dark eyes, were glancing at the arrangements
of the table, and the quality and selection
of the food. The eyes of her father soon met
the wondering looks of his daughter, and he said,
with a smile—

“You perceive, my child, how much we are indebted
to Remarkable, for her skill in housewifery;
she has indeed provided a noble repast; such
as well might stop the cravings of hunger.”

“Law!” said Remarkable, “I'm glad if the
Judge is pleased; but I'm notional that you'll
find the sa'ce overdone. I thought, as Elizabeth
was coming home, that a body could do no
less than make things agreeable.”

“My daughter has now grown to woman's estate,
and is from this moment mistress of my
house,” said the Judge, sternly; “it is proper,
that all, who live with me, address her as Miss
Temple.”

Do tell!” exclaimed Remarkable, a little
aghast; “well, who ever heerd of a young woman's
being called Miss? If the Judge had a
wife now, I shouldn't think of calling her any
thing but Miss Temple; but—”

“Having nothing but a daughter, you will

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observe that style to her, if you please, in future,” interrupted
Marmaduke.

As the Judge look'd seriously displeased, and,
at such moments, carried a particularly commanding
air with him, the wary housekeeper made no
reply; and, Mr. Grant entering the room, the
whole party were soon seated at the table. As
the arrangements of this repast were much in the
prevailing taste of that period and country, we
shall endeavour to give a short description of the
appearance of the banquet.

The table-linen was of the most beautiful damask,
and the plates and dishes of real china, an
article of great luxury at this early period in
American commerce. The knives and forks were
of exquisitely polished steel, and were set in unclouded
ivory. So much being furnished by the
wealth of Marmaduke, was not only comfortable,
but even elegant. The contents of the several
dishes, and their positions, however, were the result
of the sole judgment of Remarkable. Before
Elizabeth, was placed an enormous roasted
turkey, and before Richard, one boiled. In the
centre of the table, stood a pair of heavy silver
castors, surrounded by four dishes; one a fricassee,
that consisted of gray squirrels; another of fish
fried; a third of fish boiled; the last was a venison
steak. Between these dishes and the turkeys,
stood, on the one side, a prodigious chine of
roasted bear's meat, and on the other a boiled leg of
delicious mutton. Interspersed among this load
of meats, was every species of vegetables that the
season and country afforded. The four corners
were garnished with plates of cake. On one was
piled certain curiously twisted and complicated
figures, called “nut-cakes.” On another were
heaps of a black-looking substance, which, receiving
its hue from molasses, was properly termed

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“sweet-cake;” a wonderful favourite in the coterie
of Remarkable. A third was filled, to use the
language of the housekeeper, with “caards of
gingerbread;” and the last held a “plum-cake,”
so called from the number of large raisins that were
showing their black heads, in a substance of a
wonderfully similar colour. At each corner of the
table, stood saucers, filled with a thick fluid, of
somewhat equivocal colour and consistence, variegated
with small dark lumps of a substance that
resembled nothing but itself, which Remarkable
termed her “sweet-meats.” At the side of each
plate, which was placed bottom upwards, with its
knife and fork most accurately crossed above it,
stood another, of smaller size, containing a motley-looking
pie, composed of triangular slices of
apple, mince, pumpkin, craneberry, and custard,
so arranged as to form an entire whole. Decanters
of brandy, rum, gin, and wine, with sundry
pitchers of cider, beer, and one hissing vessel of
“flip,” were put wherever an opening would admit
of their introduction. Notwithstanding the
size of the tables, there was scarcely a spot where
the rich damask could be seen, so crowded were
the dishes, and their associated bottles, plates and
saucers. The object seemed to be profusion, and
it was obtained entirely at the expense of order
and elegance.

All the guests, as well as the Judge himself,
seemed perfectly familiar with this description of
fare, for each one commenced eating, with an appetite
that promised to do great honour to Remarkable's
taste and skill. What rendered this attention
to the repast a little surprising, was the fact,
that both the German and Richard had been
summoned from another table, to meet the Judge;
but Major Hartmann both ate and drank without
any rule, when on his excursions; and Mr.

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Jones invariably made it a point, to participate in
the business in hand, let it be what it would. The
host seemed to think some apology necessary, for
the warmth he had betrayed on the subject of the
firewood, and when the party were comfortably
seated, and engaged with their knives and forks,
he observed—

“The wastefulness of the settlers, with the noble
trees of this country, is shocking, Monsieur
Le Quoi, as doubtless you have noticed. I have
seen a man fell a pine, when he has been in
want of fencing-stuff, and roll its first cuts into
the gap, where he left it to rot, though its top
would have made rails enough to answer his purpose,
and its butt would have sold in the Philadelphia
market for twenty dollars.”

“And how the devil—I beg your pardon, Mr.
Grant,” interrupted Richard; “but how is the
poor devil to get his logs to the Philadelphia market,
pray? put them in his pocket, ha! as you
would a handful of chesnuts, or a bunch of
chicker-berries? I should like to see you walking
up High-street, with a pine log in each pocket!—
Poh! poh! cousin 'duke, there are trees enough
for us all, and some to spare. Why I can hardly
tell which way the wind blows, when I'm out in
the clearings, they are so thick, and so tall;—I
couldn't at all, if it wasn't for the clouds, and I
happen to know all the points of the compass, as
it were, by heart.”

“Ay! ay! Squire,” cried Benjamin, who had
now entered, and taken his place behind the
Judge's chair, a little aside withal, in order to
be ready for any observation like the present;
“look aloft, sir, look aloft. The old seamen say,
`that the devil wouldn't make a sailor, unless he
look'd aloft.' As for the compass, why, there is
no such thing as steering without one. I'm

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sure I never lose sight of the main-top, as I call
the Squire's look-out, but I set my compass, d'ye
see, and take the bearings and distance of things,
in order to work out my course, if-so-be that it
should cloud up, or the tops of the trees should
shut out the light of heaven. The steeple of St.
Paul's, now that we have got it on end, is a great
help to the navigation of the woods, for, by the
lord Harry, as I was”—

“It is well, Benjamin, interrupted Marmaduke,
observing his daughter, who manifested
evident displeasure at the major-domo's familiarity;
“but you forget there is a lady in company,
and the women love to do most of the talking
themselves.”

“The Judge says the true word,” cried Benjamin,
with one of his discordant laughs: “now
here is Mistress Remarkable Prettybones; just
take the stopper off her tongue, and you'll hear a
gabbling, worse like than if you should happen to
fall to leeward, in crossing a French privateer, or
some such thing, mayhap, as a dozen monkeys
stowed in one bag.”

It were impossible to say, how perfect an illustration
of the truth of Benjamin's assertion the
housekeeper would have furnished, if she dare;
but the Judge looked sternly at her, and, unwilling
to incur his resentment, yet unable to contain
her anger, she threw herself out of the room,
with a toss of her body, that nearly separated her
frail form in the centre.

“Richard” said Marmaduke, observing that
his displeasure had produced the desired effect,
“can you inform me of any thing concerning the
youth, whom I so unfortunately wounded? I
found him on the mountain hunting in company
with the Leather-stocking, as if they were of the
same family; but there is a manifest difference in

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their manners. The youth delivers himself in
chosen language; such as is seldom heard in these
hills, and such as occasions great surprise to me,
how one so meanly clad, and following so lowly
a pursuit, could attain. Mohegan also knew
him. Doubtless he is a tenant of Natty's hut.
Did you notice the language of the lad, Monsieur
Le Quoi?”

“Certainement, Monsieur Templ',” returned
the Frenchman, “he deed conevairse in de most
excellent Anglaise.”

“The boy is not a miracle,” exclaimed Richard;
“I've known children that were sent to
school early, talk much better, before they were
twelve years old. There was Zareed Coe, old
Nehemiah's son, who first settled on the beaverdam
meadow, he could write almost as good a
hand as myself, when he was fourteen; though
it's true, I helped to teach him a little, in the long
evenings. But this shooting gentleman ought to
be put in the stocks, if he ever takes a rein in his
hand again. He is the most awkward fellow
about a horse I ever met with. I dare say, he
never drove any thing but oxen in his life.”

“There I think, Dickon, you do the lad injustice,”
said the Judge; “he uses much discretion
in critical moments.—Dost thou not think so,
Bess?”

There was nothing in this question particularly
to excite the blushes of a maiden, but Elizabeth
started from the reverie into which she had fallen,
and coloured to her forehead, as she answered—

“To me, my dear sir, he appeared extremely
skilful, and prompt, and courageous; but perhaps
cousin Richard will say, I am as ignorant as the
gentleman himself.”

“Gentleman!” echoed Richard; “do you call
such chaps gentlemen, at school, Elizabeth?”

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“Every man is a gentleman, who knows how
to treat a woman with respect and consideration,”
returned the young lady, promptly, and with an
air of a little dignity.

“So much for hesitating to appear before the
heiress in his shirt sleeves,” cried Richard, winking
at Monsieur Le Quoi, who returned the hint
with one eye, while he rolled the other, with an
expression of great sympathy, towards the young
lady.—“Well, well, to me he seemed any thing
but a gentleman. I must say, however, for the
lad, that he draws a good trigger, and has a true
aim. He's good at shooting a buck, ha! Marmaduke?”

“Richart,” said Major Hartmann, turning his
grave countenance towards the gentleman he addressed,
with much earnestness, “ter poy is goot.
He savet your life, and my life, and ter life of
Tominie Grant, and ter life of ter Frenchman;
and, Richart, he shall never vant a pet to sleep
in, vile olt Fritz Hartmann hast a shingle to cover
his bet mit.”

“Well, well, as you please, old gentleman,” returned
Mr. Jones, endeavouring to look excessively
indifferent; “put him into your own stone
house, if you will, Major. I dare say the lad
never slept in any thing better than a bark shanty
in his life, unless it was some such hut as the
cabin of Leather-stocking. I prophesy you will
soon spoil him; any one can see how proud he
grew, in a short time, just because he stood by my
horses' heads, while I turned them into the highway.”

“No, no, my old friend,” cried Marmaduke,
“it shall be my task, to provide in some manner
for the youth: I owe him a debt of my own, besides
the service he has done me, through my
friends. And yet I anticipate some little trouble,

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in inducing him to accept of my services. He
showed a marked dislike, I thought, Bess, to my
offer of a residence within these walls for life.”

“Really, dear sir,” said Elizabeth, projecting
her beautiful under-lip, “I have not studied the
gentleman so closely, as to read his feelings in his
countenance. I thought he might very naturally
feel pain from his wound, and therefore pitied
him; but”—and as she spoke, she glanced her
eye, with a conscious timidity, towards the major-domo—
“I dare say, sir, that Benjamin can tell
you something about him. He cannot have
been in the village, and Benjamin not have seen
him often.”

“Ay! I have seen the boy before,” said Benjamin,
who wanted no other encouragement to
speak: “he has been backing and filling in the
wake of Natty Bumppo, through the mountains,
after deer, like a Dutch long-boat in tow of an
Albany sloop. He carries a good rifle too. The
Leather-stocking said, in my hearing, before Betty
Hollister's bar-room fire, no later than the
Tuesday night, that the younker was certain
death to the wild beasts. If-so-be he can kill the
wild cat, that has been heard moaning on the lake-side,
since the hard frosts and deep snows have
driven the deer to herd, he will be doing the thing
that is good. Your wild cat is a bad shipmate,
and should be made to cruise out of the track of
all christian-men.”

“Lives he in the hut of Bumppo?” asked Marmaduke,
with some interest; and the full black
eyes of Elizabeth resting intently on the scorched
visage of the steward, while she waited his reply.

“Cheek by jowl,” said Benjamin; “the Wednesday
will be three weeks since he first hove in
sight, in company with Leather-stocking. They
had captured a wolf between them, and had

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brought in his scalp for the bounty. That Mister
Bump-ho has a handy turn with him, in taking off
a scalp; and there's them, in this here village,
who say he larnt the trade by working on christian-men.
If-so-be that there is truth in the saying,
and I commanded along shore here, as your
honour does, why, d'ye see, I'd bring him to the
gangway for it, yet. There's a very pretty post
riggid alongside of the stocks, and for the matter
of a cat, I can fit one with my own hands; ay!
and use it too, for the want of a better.”

“You are not to credit all the idle tales, sir,
that you hear of Natty,” said the Judge: “he has
a kind of natural right to gain a livelihood in
these mountains; and if the idlers in the village
take it into their heads to annoy him, as they
sometimes do reputed rogues, they shall find him
protected by the strong arm of the law.”

“Ter rifle is petter as ter law,” said the Major,
sententiously.

“That for his rifle!” exclaimed Richard, snapping
his fingers; “Ben is right, and I”—He
was stopped by the sounds of a common ship-bell,
that had been elevated to the belfry of the
academy, which now announced, by its incessant
ringing, that the hour for the appointed service
had arrived. “ `For this, and every other instance
of his goodness'—I beg pardon. Mr. Grant;
will you please to return thanks, sir? it is time we
should be moving, as we are the only Episcopalians
in the neighbourhood; that is, I, and Benjamin,
and Elizabeth.”

The divine arose, and performed the office,
meekly and fervently, and the whole party instantly
prepared themselves for the church—or rather
academy.

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CHAPTER X.

And calling sinful man to pray,
Loud, long, and deep the bell had toll'd.
Scott's Burgher.

[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]

While Richard and Monsieur Le Quoi, attended
by Benjamin, proceeded to the academy, by a
foot-path that was trodden in the snow, across the
grounds of the Mansion-House, the Judge, his
daughter, the Divine, and the Major, took a more
circuitous route to the same place, through the
streets of the village.

The moon had risen, during the time that our
travellers were housed, and its orb was shedding
a flood of light over the dark outline of pines,
which crowned the eastern mountain. In other
climates, the sky would have been thought clear
and lucid for a noontide. The stars twinkled in
the heavens, like the last faint glimmerings of distant
fire, so much were they obscured by the overwhelming
radiance of the atmosphere; the rays
from the moon striking upon the smooth white
surfaces of the lake and fields, reflecting upwards
a light that was brightened by the spotless colour
of the immense bodies of snow, which covered the
earth.

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Elizabeth employed herself with reading the
signs, one of which appeared over almost every
door, while the sleigh moved, steadily and at an
easy gait, along the principal street. Not only
new occupations, but names that were strangers to
her ears, met her bewildered gaze, at every step
they proceeded. The very houses seemed changed.
This had been altered by an addition; that
had been painted; another had been erected on
the site of an old acquaintance, which had been banished
from the earth almost as soon as it made
its appearance on it. All were, however, pouring
forth their inmates, who uniformly held their way
towards the point where the expected exhibition,
of the taste of Richard and Benjamin, was to be
made.

After viewing the buildings, which really appeared
to some advantage, under the bright but
mellow light of the moon, our heroine turned her
eyes to a scrutiny of the different figures that they
passed, in search of any form that she knew. But
all seemed alike, as, muffled in cloaks, hoods, coats,
or tippets, they glided along the narrow passages
in the snow, which led under the houses, half hid
by the bank that had been thrown up in excavating
the deep path in which they trod. Once or
twice she thought there was a stature, or a gait,
that she recollected, but the person who owned it
instantly disappeared behind one of those enormous
piles of wood, that lay before most of the
doors. It was only as they turned from the main
street into another that intersected it at right angles,
and which led directly to the place of meeting,
that she recognised a face and building that
she knew.

The house stood at one of the principal corners
in the village, and, by its well-trodden doorway,
as well as the sign, that was swinging, with a kind
of doleful sound, in the blasts that occasionally

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swept down the lake, was clearly one of the most
frequented inns in the place. The building was only
of one story, but the dormant windows in the
roof, the paint, the window-shutters, and cheerful
fire that shone through the open door, gave it an
air of comfort, that was not possessed by many of
its neighbours. The sign was suspended from a
common ale-house post, and represented the figure
of a horseman, armed with sabre and pistols, and
surmounted by a bear-skin cap, with the fiery animal
that he bestrode “rampant.” All these particulars
were easily to be seen, by the aid of the
moon, together with a row of somewhat illegible
writing, in black paint, but in which Elizabeth, to
whom the whole was familiar, read with facility,
“The Bold Dragoon.”

A man and a woman were issuing from the door
of this habitation, as the sleigh was passing. The
former moved with a stiff, military step, that was a
good deal heightened by a limp that he had in one
leg; but the woman advanced with a measure and
an air, that seemed not particularly regardful of
what she might encounter. The light of the moon
fell directly upon her full, broad, and red visage;
exhibiting her masculine countenance, under the
mockery of a ruffled cap, that was intended, evidently,
to soften the lineaments of her features. A
small bonnet, of black silk, and of a slightly formal
cut, was placed on the back of her head, but so
as not to shade her visage in the least. Her face, as
it encountered the rays of the moon from the east,
seemed not unlike a sun rising in the west. She
advanced, with masculine strides, to intercept the
sleigh, and the Judge, directing the namesake of
the Grecian king, who held the lines, to check his
horses, the parties were soon near to each other.

“Good luck to ye, and a wilcome home,
Jooge!” cried the female, with a strong Irish accent;
“and I'm sure it's to me that ye're always

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wilcome. Sure! and there's Miss 'Lizzy, and a
fine young woman is she grown. What a heartache
would she be giving the young men now, if
there was sich a thing as a rigiment in the town.
Och! but it's idle to talk of sich vanities, while
the bell is calling us to mateing, jist as we shall be
call'd away unexpictedly, some day, when we are
the laist calkilating on it. Good even, Major;
will I make the bowl of gin-toddy the night?—or
it's likely ye'll stay at the big house, the Christmas
eve, and the very night of ye'r getting there?”

“I am glad to see you, Mrs. Hollister,” returned
the voice of Elizabeth. “I have been trying
to find a face that I knew, since we left the door
of the mansion-house, but none have I seen except
your own. Your house, too, is unaltered,
while all the others are so changed, that, but for
the places where they stand, they would be utter
strangers. I observe you keep also the dear sign,
that I saw cousin Richard paint, and even the
name at the bottom, about which, you may remember,
you had the disagreement.”

“Is it the bould dragoon ye mane? and what
name would ye have, who niver was known by
any other, as my husband here, the Captain, can
tistify to. He was a pleasure to wait upon, and
was iver the foremost in the hour of need. Och!
but he had a sudden ind! But it's to be hoped,
that he was justified by the cause. And it's not
Parson Grant there, who'll gainsay that same.—
Yes, yes—the Squire would paint, and so I thought
that we might have his face up there, who had so
often shared good and evil wid us. The eyes is
no so large nor so fiery as the Captain's own, but
the whiskers and the cap is as like as two paas.—
Well, well—I'll not keep ye in the cowld, talking,
but will drop in, the morrow, after sarvice, and
jist ask ye how ye do. It's our bounden duty to

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make the most of this present, and to go to the
house which is open to all: so God bless ye, and
keep ye from evil.—Will I make the gin-twist the
night, or no, Major?”

To this question the German replied, very sententiously,
in the affirmative; and, after a few
words had passed between the husband of this fiery-faced
hostess and the Judge, the sleigh moved on.
It soon reached the door of the academy, where
the party alighted and entered the building.

In the mean time, Mr. Jones and his two companions,
having a much shorter distance to journey,
had arrived before the appointed place several
minutes sooner than the party in the sleigh.
Instead of hastening into the room, in order to enjoy
the astonishment of the settlers, Richard placed
a hand in either pocket of his surtout, and affected
to walk about, in front of the academy, with
great indifference.

The villagers proceeded uniformly into the
building, with a decorum and gravity that nothing
could move, on such occasions; but with a haste,
that was probably a little heightened by curiosity.
Those who came in from the adjacent country,
spent some little time in placing certain blue and
white blankets over their horses, before they proceeded
to indulge their desire to view the interior of
the house. Most of these men Richard approached,
and inquired after the health and condition of
their families. The readiness with which he mentioned
the names of even the children, showed how
very familiarly acquainted he was with their circumstances;
and the nature of the answers he received,
proved that he was a general favourite.

At length one of the pedestrians from the village
stopped also, and fixed an earnest gaze at a new
brick edifice, that was throwing a long shadow
across the fields of snow, as it rose, with a

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beautiful gradation of light and shade, under the rays of
a full moon. In front of the academy was a vacant
piece of ground, that was intended for a public
square. On the side opposite to where stood
Mr. Jones, the new, and as yet unfinished, church
of St. Paul's was erected. This edifice had been
reared, during the preceding summer, by the aid
of what was called a subscription; though all, or
nearly all, of the money it had cost, came from
the pocket of the landlord. It had been built under
the strong conviction of the necessity of a more
seemly place of worship than “the long-room of
the academy,” and under an implied agreement,
that, after its completion, the question should be
fairly put to the people, that they might decide to
what denomination it should belong. Of course,
this expectation kept alive a strong excitement, in
some few of the sectaries who were interested in its
decision; though but little was said openly on the
subject. Had Judge Temple espoused the cause
of any particular sect, the question would have
been immediately put at rest, for his influence was
too powerful to be opposed; but he declined all
interference in the matter, positively refusing to
lend even the weight of his name on the side of
Richard, who had secretly given an assurance to
his Diocesan, that both the building and the congregation
would cheerfully come within the pale
of the Protestant Episcopal Church. But when
the neutrality of the Judge was clearly ascertained,
Mr. Jones discovered that he had to contend
with a stiff-necked people. His first measure
was to go among them, and commence a course
of reasoning, in order to bring them round to his
own way of thinking. They all heard him patiently,
and not a man uttered a word in reply, in
the way of argument: and Richard thought, by
the time that he had gone through the settlement,

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the thing was to be conclusively decided in his favour.
Willing to strike while the iron was hot,
he called a meeting, through the newspaper, with
a view to decide the question, by a vote, at once,
Not a soul attended; and one of the most anxious
afternoons that he had ever known, was spent by
Richard in a vain discussion with Mrs. Hollister,
who strongly contended that the Methodist (her
own) church was the best entitled to, and most
deserving of, the possession of the new tabernacle.
Richard now perceived that he had been too sanguine,
and had fallen into the error of all those
who, ignorantly, deal with that wary and sagacious
people. He assumed a disguise himself,
that is, as well as he knew how, and proceeded
step by step to advance his purpose.

The task of erecting the building had been unanimously
transferred to Mr. Jones and Hiram Doolittle.
Together they had built the mansion-house,
the academy, and the jail; and they alone knew
how to plan and rear such a structure as was now
required. Early in the day, these architects had
made an equitable division of their duties. To the
former was assigned the duty of making all the
plans, and to the latter, the labour of superintending
the execution.

Availing himself of this advantage, Richard silently
determined that the windows should have
the Roman arch, as the first positive step he would
take in effecting his wishes. As the building was
made of bricks, he was enabled to conceal his design,
until the moment arrived for placing the
frames: then, indeed, it became necessary to act.
He communicated his wishes to Hiram with great
caution; and without in the least adverting to
the spiritual part of his project, he pressed the
point a little warmly, on the score of architectural
beauty. Hiram heard him patiently, and

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without contradiction; but still Richard was unable
to discover the views of his coadjutor, on this
interesting subject. As the right to plan was duly
delegated to Mr. Jones, no direct objection was
made in words, but numberless unexpected difficulties
arose in the execution. At first, there was
a scarcity in the right kind of material necessary
to form the frames; but this objection was instantly
silenced, by Richard running his pencil through
two feet of their length at one stroke. Then the
expense was mentioned; but Richard reminded
Hiram that his cousin paid, and that he was his
treasurer. This last intimation had great weight,
and after a silent and protracted, but fruitless opposition,
the work was suffered to proceed on the
original plan.

The next difficulty occurred in the steeple, which
Richard had modelled after one of the smaller of
those spires that adorn the great London Cathedral.
The imitation was somewhat lame, it is
true, the proportions being but indifferently observed;
but, after much difficulty, Mr. Jones had the
satisfaction of seeing an object reared, that bore,
in its outlines, a prodigious resemblance to an old-fashioned
vinegar-cruet. There was less opposition
to this model than to the windows, for the
settlers were fond of novelty, and their steeple was
without a precedent.

Here the labour had ceased for the season, and
the difficult question of the interior remained for
further deliberation. Richard well knew, that
when he came to propose a reading-desk and a
chancel, he must unmask; for these were arrangements,
known to no church in the country, but
his own. Presuming, however, on the advantages
he had already obtained, he boldly styled the
building St. Paul's, and Hiram prudently

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acquiesced in this appellation, making, however, the
slight addition of calling it “New St. Paul's,”
feeling less aversion to a name taken from the
English Cathedral, than from the saint.

The pedestrian, whom we have already mentioned,
as pausing to contemplate this edifice, was
no other than the gentlemen so frequently named
as Mr., or Squire Doolittle. He was of a tall,
gaunt formation, with sharp features, and a face
that expressed formal propriety, mingled with low
cunning. Richard approached him, followed by
Monsieur Le Quoi and the Major-Domo.

“Good evening, Squire,” said Richard, bobbing
his head, but without moving his hands from his
pockets.

“Good evening, Squire,” echoed Hiram, turning
his body, in order to turn his head also.

“A cold night, Mr. Doolittle, a cold night, sir.”

“Coolish,” said Hiram: “a tedious spell on't.”

“What, looking at our church, ha! it looks
well by moonlight; how the tin of the cupola
glistens. I warrant you, the dome of the other St.
Paul's never shines so in the smoke of London.”

“It is a pretty meeting-house to look on,” returned
Hiram, “and I believe that Monshure Ler
Quow and Mr. Penguilliam will allow it.”

“Sairtainlee!” exclaimed the complaisant
Frenchman, “it ees ver fine.”

“I thought the Monshure would say so,” observed
Hiram. “Them last molasses that we had
was excellent good. It isn't likely that you have
any more of it on hand?”

“Ah! oui; ees, sair,” returned Monsieur Le
Quoi, with a slight shrug of his shoulder, and a
trifling grimace, “dere is more. I feel ver happi
dat you love eet. I hope dat Madame Dooleet'
is in good 'ealth.”

“Why, so as to be stirring,” said Hiram.—

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“The Squire hasn't finished the plans for the inside
of the meeting-house yet?”

“No—no—no,” returned Richard, speaking
quickly, but making a significant pause between
each negative—“it requires reflection. There is
a great deal of room to fill up, and I am afraid
we shall not know how to dispose of it to advantage.
There will be a large vacant spot around
the pulpit, which I do not mean to place against
the wall, like a sentry-box stuck up on the side of
a fort.”

“It is ruleable to put the deacons' box under
the pulpit,” said Hiram; and then, as if he had
ventured too much, he added, “but there's different
fashions in different countries.”

“That there is,” cried Benjamin; “now, in
running down the coast of Spain and Portingall,
you may see a nunnery stuck out on every headland,
with more steeples and outriggers, such as
dog-vanes and weather-cocks, than you'll find
aboard of a three-masted schooner. If-so-be that
a well-built church is wanting, Old England, after
all, is the country to go to, after your models
and fashion-pieces. As to Paul's, thof I've never
seen it, being that it's a long way up town from
Radcliffe-highway and the docks, yet every
body knows that it's the grandest place in the
world. Now, I've no opinion but this here church
over there, is as like one end of it, as a grampus is
to a whale; and that's only a small difference in
bulk. Mounsheer Ler Quaw here, has been in foreign
parts, and thof that is not the same as having
been at home, yet he must have seen churches in
France too, and can form a small idee of what a
church should be: now, I ask the Mounsheer to
his face, if it is not a clever little thing, taking it
by and large?”

“It ees ver apropos to saircumstonce,” said

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the Frenchman—“ver judgement—but it is in de
Catholique country dat dey build de—vat you
call—ah-a-ah-ha—la grande cathedrale—de big
church. St. Paul Londre, is ver fine; ver bootiful;
ver grand—vat you call beeg; but, Monsieur
Ben, pardonnez moi, it is no vort so much as Notre
Dame”—

“Ha! Mounsheer, what is that you say?” cried
Benjamin—“St. Paul's Church not worth so
much as a damn! Mayhap you may be thinking,
too that the Royal Billy isn't as good a ship as
the Billy de Paris; but she would have lick'd two
of her, any day, and in all weathers.”

As Benjamin had assumed a very threatening
kind of attitude, flourishing an arm, with a bunch
at the end of it, that was half as big as Monsieur
Le Quoi's head, Richard thought it time to interpose
his authority.

“Hush, Benjamin, hush,” he said; “you both
misunderstand Monsieur Le Quoi, and forget
yourself.—But here comes Mr. Grant, and the service
will commence. Let us go in.”

The Frenchman, who received Benjamin's reply
with a well-bred good humour, that would not
admit of any feeling but pity for the other's ignorance,
bowed in acquiescence, and followed his
companion.

Hiram and the Major-Domo brought up the
rear, the latter grumbling as he entered the building—

“If-so-be that the King of France had so
much as a house to live in, that would lay alongside
of Paul's, one might put up with their jaw.
It's more than flesh and blood can bear, to hear
a Frenchman run down an English church in
this manner. Why, Squire Doolittle, I've been
at the whipping of two of them in one day—clean
built, snug frigates, with standing-royals, and them

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new-fashioned cannonades on their quarters—such
as, if they had only Englishmen aboard of them,
would have fout the devil.”

With this ominous word in his mouth, Benjamin
entered the church!

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CHAPTER XI.

And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.

Goldsmith.

[figure description] Page 146.[end figure description]

Notwithstanding the united labours of Richard
and Benjamin, the “long-room” was but an
extremely plain and inartificial temple. Benches,
made in the coarsest manner, and entirely with a
view to usefulness, were arranged in rows, for the
reception of the congregation; while a rough, unpainted
box, was placed against the wall, in the
centre of the length of the apartment, as an apology
for a pulpit. Something like a reading desk
was in front of this rostrum, and a small mahogany
table, from the mansion-house, covered with a
spotless damask cloth, stood a little on one side, by
the way of an altar. Branches of pines and hemlocks
were stuck in each of the fissures that offered,
in the unseasoned, and hastily completed
wood-work, of both the building and its furniture;
while festoons and hieroglyphics met the
eye, in vast profusion, along the brown sides of
the scratch-coated walls. As the room was only
lighted by some ten or fifteen miserable candles,
and the windows were without shutters, it would
have been but a dreary, cheerless place for the

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solemnities of a Christmas-eve, had not the large
fire, that was crackling at each end of the apartment,
given an air of cheerfulness to the scene, by
throwing an occasional glare of light through the
vistas of bushes and faces.

The two sexes were separated by an area in the
centre of the room, immediately before the pulpit,
and a few benches lined this space, that were occupied
by the principal personages of the village and
its vicinity. This distinction was rather a gratuitous
concession, made by the poorer and less polished
part of the population, than a right claimed
by the favoured few. One bench was occupied by
the party of Judge Temple, including his daughter;
and, with the exception of Dr. Todd, no one else
appeared willing to incur the imputation of pride,
by taking a seat in what was, literally, the high
place of the tabernacle.

Richard filled a chair, that was placed behind
another table, in the capacity of clerk; while Benjamin,
after heaping sundry logs on the fires. posted
himself nigh by. in reserve for any movement
that might require his co operation.

It would be greatly exceeding our limits, to attempt
a description of the congregation, for their
dresses were as various as there were individuals.
Some one article, of more than usual finery, and
perhaps the relic of other days, was to be seen
about most of the females, in connexion with the
coarse attire of the woods. This, wore a faded
silk, that had gone through at least three generations,
over coarse, woollen, black stockings; that, a
shawl, whose dies were as numerous as those of
the rainbow, over an awkwardly fitting gown,
of rough, brown “woman's-wear.” In short,
each one exhibited some favourite article, and all
appeared in their best, both men and women;
while the ground-works in dress, in either sex,

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were the coarse fabrics manufactured within their
own dwellings. One man appeared in the dress
of a volunteer company of artillery, of which he
had been a member, in the “down-countries,” precisely
for no other reason, than because it was the
best suit he had. Several, particularly of the
younger men, displayed pantaloons of blue, edged
with red cloth down the seams, part of the equipments
of the “Templeton Light Infantry,” from a
little vanity to be seen in “boughten clothes.”
There was also one man in a “rifle frock,” with
its fringes and folds of spotless white, striking a
chill to the heart with the idea of its coolness; although
the thick coat of brown “home-made,”
that was concealed beneath, preserved to the wearer
a proper degree of warmth.

There was a marked uniformity of expression in
countenance, especially in that half of the congregation,
who did not enjoy the advantages of the
polish of the village. A sallow skin, that indicated
nothing but exposure, was common to all, as
was an air of great decency and attention, mingled,
generally, with an expression of shrewdness,
and in the present instance, of active curiosity.
Now and then a face and dress were to be seen,
among the congregation, that differed entirely
from this description. If pock-marked, and florid,
with gaitered legs, and a coat that snugly fitted
the person of the wearer, it was surely an
English emigrant, who had bent his steps to this
retired quarter of the globe. If hard-featured,
and without colour, with high cheek-bones, it was
a native of Scotland, in similar circumstances.
The short, black-eyed man, with a cast of the
swarthy Spaniard in his face, who rose repeatedly,
to make room for the belles of the village, as
they entered, was a son of Erin, who had lately
left off his pack, and become a stationary trader

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in Templeton. In short, half the nations in the
north of Europe had their representatives in this
assembly, though all had closely assimilated themselves
to the Americans, in dress and appearance,
except the Englishman. He, indeed, not only adhered
to his native customs, in attire and living,
but usually drove his plough, among the stumps, in
the same manner as he had before done, on the
plains of Norfolk, until dear-bought experience
taught him the useful lesson, that a sagacious people
knew what was suited to their circumstances,
better than a casual observer; or a sojourner, who
was, perhaps, too much prejudiced to compare,
and, peradventure, too conceited to learn.

Elizabeth soon discovered that she divided the
attention of the congregation, equally with Mr.
Grant. Timidity, therefore, confined her observation
of the appearances which we have described,
to stolen glances; but, as the stamping of feet
was now becoming less frequent, and even the
coughing, and other little preliminaries of a congregation
settling themselves down into reverential
attention, were ceasing, she felt emboldened to
look around her. Gradually all noises diminished,
until the suppressed cough denoted, that it was
necessary to avoid singularity, and the most profound
stillness pervaded the apartment. The
snapping of the fires, as they threw a powerful
heat into the room, was alone heard, and each
face, and every eye, were turned in expectation on
the divine.

At this moment, a heavy stamping of feet was
heard in the passage below, as if a new comer was
releasing his limbs from the snow, that was necessarily
clinging to the legs of a pedestrian. It was
succeeded by no audible tread; but directly Mohegan,
followed by the Leather-stocking and the
young hunter, made his appearance. Their

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footsteps would not have been heard, as they trod the
apartment in their moccasins, but for the silence
which prevailed.

The Indian moved with great gravity across
the floor, and, observing a vacant seat next to the
Judge, he took it, in a manner that manifested his
sense of his own dignity. Here, drawing his blanket
closely around him, so as partly to conceal his
countenance, he remained during the service immoveable,
but deeply attentive. Natty passed the
place, that was so freely taken by his red companion,
and seated himself on one end of a log, that
was lying near the fire, where he continued, with
his rifle standing between his legs, absorbed in reflections,
seemingly, of no very pleasing nature.
The youth found a seat, among the congregation,
and another dead silence prevailed.

Mr. Grant now arose, and commenced his service,
with the sublime declaration of the Hebrew
prophet—“The Lord is in his holy temple; let
all the earth keep silence before him.” The example
of Mr. Jones was unnecessary, to teach the
congregation to rise: the solemnity of the manner
of the divine, effected this as by magic. After a
short pause, Mr. Grant proceeded with the solemn
and winning exhortation of his service. Nothing
was heard but the deep, though affectionate, tones
of the reader, as he slowly went through this exordium;
until, something unfortunately striking the
mind of Richard as incomplete, he left his place,
and walked on tip-toe from the room.

When the clergyman bent his knees in prayer
and confession, the congregation so far imitated
his example, as to resume their seats; whence no
succeeding effort of the divine, during the evening,
was able to remove them in a body. Some
rose, at times, but by far the larger part continued
unbending; observant, it is true, but it was the

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kind of observation that regarded the ceremony as
a spectacle, rather than a worship in which all were
to participate. Thus deserted by his clerk, Mr.
Grant continued to read; but no response was
audible. The short and solemn pause, that succeeded
each petition, was made; still no voice
repeated the eloquent language of the prayer.

The lips of Elizabeth moved, but they moved
in vain; and, accustomed, as she was, to the service
in the churches of the metropolis, she was beginning
to feel the awkwardness of the circumstance
most painfully, when a soft, low, female
voice repeated after the priest, “We have left undone
those things which we ought to have done.”
Startled, at finding one of her own sex in that
place, who could rise superior to their natural timidity,
Miss Temple turned her eyes in the direction
of the humble penitent. She observed a
young female, on her knees, but a short distance
from her, with her meek face humbly bent over
her book. The appearance of this stranger, for
such she was, entirely, to Elizabeth, was light and
fragile. Her dress, without being either rich or
fashionable, was neat and becoming; and her
countenance, though pale, and slightly agitated,
excited deep interest, by its sweet, and perhaps
melancholy expression. A second and third response
were made by this juvenile assistant, when
the rich, manly sounds of a youthful, male voice,
proceeded from the opposite part of the room.
Miss Temple knew the tones of the young hunter
instantly, and, struggling to overcome her own
diffidence, she added her low voice to the number.

All this time, Benjamin stood thumbing the
leaves of a prayer-book with great industry, but
some unexpected difficulties prevented his finding
the place. Before the divine reached the close of
the confession, however, Richard re-appeared at the

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door, and, as he moved lightly across the room he
took up the response, in a voice that betrayed no
other concern than that of not being heard. In his
hand he carried a small open box, with the figures
of “8 by 10” written, in black paint, on one of
its sides; which having placed in the pulpit, apparently
as a footstool for the divine he returned
to his station, in time to say, most sonorously,
“amen.” The eyes of the congregation, very naturally,
were turned to the windows, as Mr. Jones
entered with this singular load, and then, as if accustomed
to his “general agency,” were again
bent on the priest, in close and curious attention.

The long experience of Mr. Grant had admirably
qualified him to perform with success his
present duty. He well understood the character
of his listeners, who were mostly a primitive people
in their habits; and who, being a good deal
addicted to subtleties and nice distinctions in their
religious opinions, viewed the introduction into
their spiritual worship of any such temporal assistance
as form, not only with jealousy, but frequently
with disgust. He had acquired much of his
knowledge, from studying the great book of human
nature, as it lay open in the world; and,
knowing how dangerous it was to contend with
ignorance, uniformly endeavoured to avoid dictating,
where his better reason taught him it was
the most prudent to attempt to lead. His orthodoxy
had no dependence on his cassock; he could
pray, with fervour and with faith, if circumstances
required it, without the assistance of his clerk;
and he had even been known to preach a most
evangelical sermon, in the winning manner of native
eloquence, without the aid of a cambric handkerchief!

In the present instance he yielded, in many

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places, to the prejudices of his congregation; and
when he had ended, there was not one of his new
hearers, who did not think the ceremonies less
papal and offensive, and more conformant to his
or her own notions of devout worship, than they
had been led to expect from a service of forms.
Truly, Richard found in the divine, during the
evening, a most powerful co-operator in his religious
schemes. In preaching, Mr. Grant endeavoured
to steer a middle course, between the mystical
doctrines of those sublimated creeds, which daily
involve their professors in the most absurd contradictions,
and those fluent rules for moral government,
which would reduce the Saviour to a level with
the teacher of a school of ethics. Doctrine it was necessary
for him to preach, for nothing less would
have satisfied the disputatious people who were
his listeners, and who would have interpreted silence
on his part, into a tacit acknowledgment of
either the superficial nature of his creed, or his
own inability to defend it. We have already said
that, amongst the endless variety of their religious
instructors, the settlers were accustomed to hear
every denomination urge its own distinctive precepts;
and to have found one indifferent to this
interesting subject, would have been destructive to
his influence. But Mr. Grant so happily blended
the universally received opinions of the Christian
faith, with the dogmas of his own church, that, although
none were entirely exempt from the influence
of his reasons, very few took any alarm at
the innovation.

“When we consider the great diversity of the
human character, influenced as it is by education,
by opportunity, and by the physical and moral
conditions of the creature, my dear hearers,” he
earnestly concluded, “it can excite no surprise,
that creeds, so very different in their tendencies,

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should grow out of a religion, revealed, it is true,
but whose revelations are obscured by the lapse
of ages and whose doctrines were, after the fashion
of the countries in which they were first promulgated,
frequently delivered in parables, and in a language
abounding in metaphors, and loaded with
figures. On points where the learned have, in
purity of heart, been compelled to differ, the unlettered
will necessarily be at variance. But,
happily for us, my brethren, the fountain of divine
love flows from a source too pure to admit of
pollution in its course; it extends, to those who
drink of its vivifying waters, the peace of the
righteous and life everlasting; it endures through
all time, and it pervades creation. If there be
mystery in its workings, it is the mystery of a
Divinity. With a clear knowledge of the nature,
the might, and majesty of God, there might be
conviction, but there could be no faith. If we
are required to believe in doctrines, that seem not
in conformity with the deductions of human wisdom,
let us never forget, that such is the mandate
of a wisdom that is infinite. It is sufficient for
us, that enough is developed to point our path
aright, and to direct our wandering steps to that
portal. which shall open on the light of an eternal
day. Then, indeed, it may be humbly hoped,
that the film, which has been spread by the subtleties
of earthly arguments, will be dissipated by
the spiritual light of heaven; and that our hour
of probation, by the aid of divine grace, being
once passed in triumph, will be followed by an
eternity of intelligence, and endless ages of fruition.
All that is now obscure, shall become plain to our
expanded faculties; and what, to our present
senses, may seem irreconcileable to our limited notions
of mercy, of justice, and of love shall stand,
irradiated by the light of truth, confessedly the

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suggestions of Omniscience, and the acts of an
All-powerful Benevolence.

“What a lesson of humility, my brethren, might
not each of us obtain, from a review of his infant
hours, and the recollection of his juvenile passions!
How differently do the same acts of parental
rigour appear, in the eyes of the suffering
child, and of the chastened man! When the sophist
would supplant, with the wild theories of his
worldly wisdom, the positive mandates of inspiration,
let him remember the expansion of his own
feeble intellects, and pause—let him feel the wisdom
of God, in what is partially concealed, as
well as in that which is revealed;—in short, let
him substitute humility for pride of reason—let
him have faith, and live!

“The consideration of this subject is full of consolation,
my hearers, and does not fail to bring
with it lessons of humility and of profit, that,
duly improved, would both chasten the heart, and
strengthen the feeble-minded man in his course.
It is a blessed consolation, to be able to lay the
misdoubtings of our arrogant nature at the
threshold of the dwelling place of the Deity, from
whence they shall be swept away, at the great
opening of the portal, like the mists of the morning
before the rising sun. It teaches us a lesson
of humility, by impressing us with the imperfection
of human powers, and by warning us of the
many weak points, where we are open to the attacks
of the great enemy of our race; it proves to
us, that we are in danger of being weak, when
our vanity would fain soothe us into the belief that
we are most strong; it forcibly points out to us
the vain-glory of intellect, and shows us the vast
difference between a saving faith, and the corollaries
of a philosophical theology; and it teaches
us to reduce our self-examination to the test of

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good works. By good works, must be understood
the fruits of repentance, the chiefest of which
is charity. Not that charity only, which causes
us to help the needy and comfort the suffering,
but that feeling of universal philanthropy, which,
by teaching us to love, causes us to judge with
lenity, all men; striking at the root of self-righteousness,
and warning us to be sparing of our condemnation
of others, while our own salvation is
not yet secure.

“The lesson of expediency, my brethren, which
I would gather from the consideration of this subject,
is most strongly inculcated by our humility.
On the leading and essential points of our faith,
there is but little difference, amongst those classes
of Christians who acknowledge the attributes of
the Saviour, and depend on his mediation. But
heresies have polluted every church, and schisms
are the fruits of disputation. In order to arrest
these dangers, and to ensure the union of his followers,
it would seem that Christ had established
his visible church, and delegated the ministry.
Wise and holy men, the fathers of our religion,
have expended their labours in clearing what was
revealed from the obscurities of language; and the
results of their experience and researches have
been embodied in the form of evangelical discipline.
That this discipline must be salutary, is
evident from the view of the weakness of human
nature that we have already taken: and that it
may be profitable to us, and all who listen to its
precepts and its liturgy, may God, in his infinite
wisdom, grant.—And now to,” &c.

With this ingenious reference to his own
forms and ministry, Mr. Grant concluded his
discourse. The most profound attention had been
paid to the sermon during the whole of its delivery,
although the prayers had not been received

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with such a perfect demonstration of respect.—
This was by no means an intended slight of that
liturgy, to which the divine had alluded, but was
the habit of a people, who owed their very existence,
as a distinct nation, to the doctrinal character
of their ancestors. Sundry looks of private dissatisfaction
were exchanged between Hiram and
one or two of the leading members of the conference,
but the feeling went no farther at that time;
and the congregation, after receiving the blessing
of Mr. Grant, dispersed in silence, and with great
decorum.

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CHAPTER XII.

Your creeds and dogmas of a learned church,
May build a fabric, fair with moral beauty;
But it would seem, that the strong hand of God
Can, only, 'rase the devil from the heart.
Deo.

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While the congregation was separating, Mr.
Grant approached the place where Elizabeth and
her father were seated, leading the youthful female,
whom we have mentioned in the preceding
chapter, and presented her as his daughter. Her
reception was as cordial and frank as the manners
of the country, and the value of good society,
could render it; the two young women feeling,
instantly, that they were necessary to the comfort
of each other. The Judge, to whom the clergyman's
daughter was also a stranger, was pleased
to find one, who, from habits, sex, and years, could
probably contribute largely to the pleasures of his
own child, during her first privations, on her removal
from the associations of a city to the solitude
of Templeton; while Elizabeth, who had
been forcibly struck with the sweetness and devotion
of the youthful suppliant, removed the slight
embarrassment of the timid stranger, by the ease
and finish of her own manners. They were at
once acquainted, and, during the ten minutes that

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the “academy” was clearing, engagements were
made between the young people, not only for their
pursuits during the succeeding day, after the service,
but they would probably have embraced in
their arrangements half of the winter, had not the
divine interrupted them, by saying—

“Gently, gently, my dear Miss Temple, or you
will make my girl too dissipated. You forget that
she is my housekeeper, and that my domestic affairs
must remain unattended to, should Louisa
accept of half the kind offers that you are so good
as to make her.”

“And why should they not be neglected entirely,
sir?” interrupted Elizabeth. “There are but
two of you; and certain I am that my father's
house will not only contain you both. but will
open its doors spontaneously, to receive such
guests. Society is a good, not to be rejected on
account of cold forms, in this wilderness, sir; and
I have often heard my father say, that hospitality
is not a virtue in a new country, the favour being
conferred on the host by the guest.”

“The manner in which Judge Temple exercises
its rites, would confirm this opinion,” said the divine;
“but we must not trespass too freely.—
Doubt not that you will see us often; my child
particularly, during the frequent visits that I
shall be compelled to make to the distant parts
of the country. But to obtain an influence with
such a people,” he continued, glancing his eyes
towards the few, who were still lingering, as curious
observers of the interview, “a clergyman
must not awaken envy or distrust, by dwelling
under so splendid a roof as that of Judge Temple.”

“You like the roof, then, Mr. Grant,” cried
Richard, who had been directing the extinguishment
of the fires, and other little necessary duties,

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and who now approached, so as to hear the close
of the divine's speech—“I am glad to find one
man of taste at last. Here's 'duke now, pretends
to call it by every abusive name he can invent;
but though 'duke is a very tolerable Judge, sir, he
is a very poor carpenter, let me tell him. Well,
sir, well, I think we may say, without boasting, that
the service was as well performed this evening as
you often see; I think, quite as well as I ever
knew it to be done in old Trinity—that is, if we
except the organ. But there is the schoolmaster,
leads a psalm with a very good air. I used to
lead myself, but latterly I have sung nothing but
bass. There is a good deal of science to be shown
in the bass, and it affords a fine opportunity to
show off a full, deep voice. Benjamin, too, sings
a good bass, though he is often out in the words.
Did you ever hear Benjamin sing the `Bay of
Biscay, O?' ”

“I believe he gave us part of it this evening,”
said Marmaduke, laughing. “There was, now
and then, a fearful quaver in his voice, and it
seems that Mr. Penguillian, like most others who
do one thing particularly well, he knows nothing
else. He has, certainly, a wonderful partiality to
one tune, and he has a prodigious self-confidence
in that one, for he delivers himself like a north-wester
sweeping across the lake.—But come, gentleman,
our way is clear, and the sleigh waits.—
Good evening, Mr. Grant. Good night, young
lady. Remember that you dine beneath the Corinthian
roof to-morrow, with Elizabeth.”

The parties separated, Richard holding a close
dissertation with Mr. Le Quoi, as they descended
the stairs, on the subject of psalmody, which he
closed by a violent eulogium on the air of the
“Bay of Biscay O,” as particularly connected
with his friend Benjamin's execution.

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During the preceding dialogue, Mohegan had
retained his seat, with his head shrouded in his
blanket, as seemingly inattentive to surrounding
objects, as the departing congregation was, itself,
to the presence of the aged chief. Natty, also,
continued on the log, where he had first placed
himself, with his head resting on one of his hands,
while the other held the rifle, which was thrown
carelessly across his lap. His countenance expressed
extraordinary uneasiness, and the occasional
unquiet glances, that he had thrown around
him during the service, plainly indicated some
unusual causes for unhappiness. His continuing
seated was, however, from respect to the Indian
chief, to whom he paid the utmost deference, on
all occasions, although it was mingled with the
rough manner of a hunter.

The young companion of these two ancient inhabitants
of the forest, remained, also, standing
before the extinguished brands, probably from an
unwillingness to depart without his comrades.
The room was now deserted by all but this group,
the divine and his daughter. As the party from
the Mansion-house disappeared, John arose, and
dropping the blanket from his head, he shook
back the mass of black hair from his face, and approaching
Mr. Grant, he extended his hand, and
said, solemnly—

“Father, I thank you. The words that have
been said, since the rising moon, have gone upward,
and the Great Spirit is glad. What you
have told your children, they will remember, and
be good.” He paused a moment, and then elevating
himself to all the grandeur of an Indian
chief, he added—“If Chingachgook lives to travel
towards the setting sun, after his tribe, and the
Great Spirit carries him over the lakes and mountains,
with the breath in his body, he will tell his

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people the good talk he has heard; and they will
believe him; for who can say that Mohegan has
ever lied?”

“Let him place his dependence on the goodness
of Divine mercy,” said Mr. Grant, to whom the
proud consciousness of the Indian sounded a little
heterodox, “and it never will desert him. When
the heart is filled with love to God, there is no
room left for sin.—But, young man, to you I owe
not only an obligation, in common with those you
saved this evening, on the mountain, but my
thanks, for your respectful and pious manner, in
assisting in the service, at a most embarrassing
moment. I should be happy to see you sometimes,
at my dwelling, when, perhaps, my conversation
may strengthen you in the path which you
appear to have chosen. It is so unusual to find
one of your age and appearance, in these woods,
at all acquainted with our holy liturgy, that it lessens
at once the distance between us, and I feel
that we are no longer strangers. You seem quite
at home in the service: I did not perceive that you
had even a book, although good Mr. Jones had
laid several in different parts of the room.”

“It would be strange, if I were ignorant of the
service of our church, sir,” returned the youth,
modestly, for I was baptised in its communion,
and I have never yet attended public worship elsewhere.
For me, to use the forms of any other denomination,
would be as singular as our own have
proved, to the people here this evening.”

“You give me great pleasure to hear you, my
dear sir,” cried the divine, seizing the other by
the hand, and shaking it cordially.—“You will
go home with me now—indeed you must—my
child has yet to thank you for saving my life. I
will listen to no apologies. This worthy Indian,

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and your friend there, will accompany us.—Bless
me! to think that he has arrived at manhood, in
this country, without entering a dissenting meeting-house!”

“No, no,” interrupted the Leather-stocking, “I
must away to the wigwam: there's work there,
that mus'nt be forgotten, for all your churchings
and merry-makings. Let the lad go with you in
welcome; he is used to keeping company with
ministers, and talking of such matters; so is old
John, who was christianized by the Moravians,
about the time of the old war. But I am a plain,
unlarned man, that has sarved the king and his
country, in his day, ag'in the French and savages,
but never so much as looked into a book,
or larnt a letter of scholarship, in my born days.
I've never seen the use of sitch in-door kind of
work, though I have lived to be partly bald, and in
my time, have killed two hundred beaver in a season,
and that without counting the other game.—
If you mistrust what I am telling you, you can ask
Chingachgook there, for I did it in the heart of the
Delaware country, and the old man is knowing to
the truth of every word I say.”

“I doubt not, my friend, that you have been
both a valiant soldier and skilful hunter, in your
day,” said the divine; “but more is wanting, to
prepare you for that end which approaches. You
may have heard the maxim, that `young men may
die, but that old men must.' ”

“I'm sure I never was so great a fool as to expect
to live for ever,” said Natty, giving one of
his silent laughs: “no man need do that, who
trails the savages through the woods, as I have
done, and lives, for the hot months, on the lakestreams.
I've a strong constitution, I must say
that for myself, as is plain to be seen, for I've
drank the Onondaga water a hundred times,

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while I've been watching the deer-licks, when the
fever-an-agy seeds was to be seen in it, as plain
and as plenty as you can see the rattle-snakes on
old Crumhorn. But then, I never expected to
hold out for ever; though there's them living,
who have seen the Garman Flats a wilderness, ay!
and them that's larned, and acquainted with religion
too; though you might look a week now and
not find even the stump of a pine on them; and
that's a wood, that lasts in the ground the better
part of a hundred years.”

“This is but time, my good friend,” returned
Mr. Grant, who began to take an interest in the
welfare of his new acquaintance, “but it is for
eternity that I would have you prepare. It is incumbent
on you to attend places of public worship,
as I am pleased to see that you have done
this evening. Would it not be heedless in you to
start on a day's toil of hard hunting, and leave
your ramrod and flint behind you?”

“It must be a young hand in the woods,” interrupted
Natty, with another laugh, “that didn't
know how to dress a rod out of an ash sapling, or
find a fire-stone in the mountains. No, no, I never
expected to live for ever; but I see, times be
altering in these mountains from what they was
thirty years ago, or for that matter, ten years.
But might makes right, and the law is stronger
than an old man, whether he is one that has much
larning, or only one like me, that is better now at
standing at the passes than in following the hounds,
as I once used to could. Heigh-ho! I never
know'd preaching come into a settlement, but it
made game scearce, and raised the price of gunpowder;
and that's a thing that's not as easily
made as a ramrod, or an Indian flint.”

The divine, perceiving that he had given his

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opponent an argument, by his own unfortunate
selection of a comparison, very prudently relinquished
the controversy, for the present; although
he was fully determined to resume it, at a more
happy moment. Repeating his request to the
young hunter, with great earnestness, the youth
and Indian consented to accompany him and his
daughter to the dwelling, that the care of Mr.
Jones had provided for their temporary residence.
Leather-stocking persevered in his intention of
returning to the hut, and at the door of the building
they separated.

After following the course of one of the streets
of the village, for a short distance, Mr. Grant, who
led the way, turned into a field, through a pair
of open bars, and entered a foot-path, of but sufficient
width to admit of only one person to walk
in it, at a time. The moon had gained a height
that enabled her to throw her rays nearly perpendicularly
on the valley; and the distinct shadows
of the party flitted along on the banks of the silvery
snow, like the presence of aerial figures, gliding
to their appointed place of meeting. The
night still continued intensely cold, although not
a breath of wind was to be felt. The path was
beaten so hard, that the gentle female, who made
one of the party, moved with ease along its windings;
though the frost emitted a low creaking, at
the impression of even her light footsteps.

The clergyman, in his dark dress of broadcloth,
with his mild, benevolent countenance occasionally
turned towards his companions, expressing that
look of subdued care, that was its characteristic,
presented the first object of this singularly constituted
group. Next to him moved the Indian, with
his hair falling about his face, his head uncovered,
and the rest of his form concealed beneath his
blanket. As his swarthy visage, with its muscles

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fixed in rigid composure, was seen under the light
of the moon, which struck his face obliquely, he
seemed a picture of resigned old age, on whom
the storms of winter had beaten in vain, for the
greater part of a century; but when, in turning
his head, the rays fell directly on his dark, fiery
eyes, they told a tale of passions unrestrained,
and of thoughts free as the air he breathed. The
slight person of Miss Grant, which followed next,
and which was but too thinly clad for the severity
of the season, formed a marked contrast to the
wild attire, and uneasy glances of the Delaware
chief; and more than once, during their walk, the
young hunter, himself no insignificant figure in
the group, was led to consider the difference in the
human form, as the face of Mohegan, and the gentle
countenance of Miss Grant, with eyes that rivalled
the soft hue of the sky in colour, met his
view, at the instant that each turned, to throw a
glance at the splendid orb, that lighted their path.
Their way, which led through fields, that lay at
some distance in the rear of the houses, was cheered
by a conversation, that flagged or became animated
with the subject. The first to speak was
the divine.

“Really,” he said, “it is so singular a circumstance
to meet with one of your age that has not
been induced, by an idle curiosity, to visit any
other church than the one in which he has been
educated, that I feel a strong curiosity to know
the history of a life so fortunately regulated.—
Your education must have been an excellent one;
as indeed is evident from your manners and language.
Of which of the states are you a native,
Mr. Edwards? for such, I believe, was the name
that you gave to Judge Temple.”

“Of this—”

“Of this! I was at a loss to conjecture, from

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your dialect, which does not partake, particularly,
of the peculiarities of any country with which
I am acquainted. You have, then, resided much
in the cities, for no other part of this country is so
fortunate as to possess the constant enjoyment of
our excellent liturgy.”

The young hunter smiled, as he listened to the
divine, while he so clearly betrayed from what
part of the country he had come himself; but, for
reasons, probably, connected with his present situation,
he made no answer.

“I am delighted to meet with you, my young
friend, for I think an ingenuous mind, such as I
doubt not yours must be, will exhibit all the advantages
of a settled doctrine and devout liturgy.
You perceive how I was compelled to bend
to the humours of my hearers this evening. Good
Mr. Jones wished me to read the communion, and,
in fact, all the morning service; but, happily, the
canons do not require this, in an evening. It
would have wearied a new congregation; but tomorrow
I purpose administering the sacrament—
do you commune, my young friend?”

“I believe not, sir,” returned the youth, with
a little embarrassment, that was not at all diminished
by Miss Grant's pausing involuntarily, and
turning her eyes on him in evident surprise—“I
fear that I am not qualified; I have never yet approached
the altar; neither would I wish to do it,
while I find so much of the world clinging to my
heart, as I now experience.”

“Each must judge for himself,” said Mr. Grant;
“though I should think, that a youth who had never
been blown about by the wind of false doctrines,
and who has enjoyed the advantages of
our liturgy for so many years, in its purity, might
safely come. Yet, sir, it is a solemn festival,
which none should celebrate, until there is reason

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to hope it is not mockery. I observed, this evening,
in your manner to Judge Temple, a resentment,
that bordered on one of the worst of human
passions.—We will cross this brook on the
ice: it must bear us all, I think, in safety.—
Be careful not to slip, my child.” While speaking,
he descended a little bank, by the path, and
crossed one of the small streams that poured their
waters into the lake; and, turning to see his
daughter pass, observed that the youth had advanced,
and was kindly directing her footsteps.
When all were safely over, he moved up the opposite
bank, and continued his discourse:—“It
was wrong, my dear sir, very wrong, to suffer
such feelings to rise, under any circumstances, and
especially in the present, where the evil was not
intended.”

“There is good in the talk of my father,” said
Mohegan, stopping short, and causing those who
were behind him to pause also; “It is the talk of
Miquon. The white man may do as his fathers
have told him; but the `Young Eagle' has the
blood of a Delaware chief in his veins: it is red,
and the stain it makes, can only be washed out
with the blood of a Mingo.”*

Mr. Grant was surprised by the interruption of
the Indian, and stopping, faced the speaker. His
mild features were confronted to the fierce and
determined looks of the chief, and expressed all
the horror that he felt, at hearing such sentiments
from one who professed the religion of his Saviour.
Raising his hands to a level with his head,
he exclaimed—

“John, John! is this the religion you have
learned from the Moravians? But no—I will not
be so uncharitable as to suppose it. They are a

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pious, a gentle, and a mild people, and could
never tolerate these passions. Listen to the language
of the Redeemer—`But I say unto you,
love your enemies, bless them that curse you; do
good to them that hate you; and pray for them
that despitefully use you and persecute you.'—
This is the command of God, John, and without
striving to cultivate such feelings, no man can see
him.”

The Indian heard the exclamation of the divine
with attention; the unusual fire of his eye gradually
softened, and his muscles relaxed into their
ordinary composure; but, slightly shaking his
head, he motioned with dignity for Mr. Grant to
resume his walk, and followed himself again in
silence. The agitation of the divine caused him
to move with unusual rapidity along the deep path,
and the Indian, without any apparent exertion,
kept an equal pace; but the young hunter observed
the female to linger in her steps, until a trifling
distance intervened between the two former
and the latter. Struck by the circumstance, and
not perceiving any new impediment to retard her
footsteps, the youth made a tender of his assistance,
by saying—

“You are fatigued, Miss Grant; the snow yields
to the foot, and you are unequal to the strides of
us men. Step on the crust, I entreat you, and
take the help of my arm. Yonder light is, I believe,
the house of your father; but it seems yet
at some distance.”

“I am quite equal to the walk,” returned a low,
tremulous voice; “but I am startled by the manner
of that Indian chief. Oh! his eye was horrid,
as he turned to the moon, in speaking to my
father. But I forget, sir; he is your friend, and,
by his language, may be your relative; and yet,
of you I do not feel afraid.”

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The young man stepped on the bank of snow,
which firmly sustained his weight, and by a gentle
effort, induced his companion to follow him.
Drawing her arm through his own, he lifted his
cap from his head, allowing his dark locks to flow
in rich curls over his open brow, and walked by
her side, with an air of conscious pride, as if inviting
an examination of his inmost thoughts.—
Louisa took but a furtive glance at his person,
and moved quietly along, at a rate that was greatly
quickened by the aid of his arm.

“You are but little acquainted with this peculiar
people, Miss Grant,” he said, “or you would
know that revenge is a virtue with an Indian.
They are taught, from infancy upward, to believe
it a duty, never to allow an injury to pass unresisted;
and nothing but the stronger claims of
hospitality, can guard one against their resentments,
where they have power to act their will.”

“Surely, sir,” said Miss Grant, involuntarily
withdrawing her arm from his, “you have not
been educated with such unholy sentiments.”

“It might be a sufficient answer to your excellent
father, to say that I was educated in the
church,” he returned; “but to you I will add,
that I have been taught deep and practical lessons
of forgiveness. I believe that, on this subject, I
have but little cause to reproach myself; but it
shall be my endeavour, that there yet be less.”

While speaking, he stopped, and stood with his
arm again proffered to her assistance. As he ended,
she quietly accepted his offer, and they resumed
their walk.

Mr. Grant and Mohegan had reached the door
of the former's residence, and stood waiting near
its threshold, for the arrival of their younger
companions. The former was earnestly occupied,
in endeavouring to correct, by his precepts,

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the evil propensities, that he had discovered in the
Indian, during their conversation; which the latter
heard in profound, but respectful attention. On
the arrival of the young hunter and the lady, they
entered the building.

The house stood at some distance from the village,
in the centre of a field, surrounded by stumps,
that were peering above the snow, bearing caps
of pure white nearly two feet in thickness. Not
a tree or a shrub was nigh it; but the house, externally,
exhibited that cheerless, unfinished aspect,
which is so common to the hastily-erected
dwellings of a new country. The uninviting character
of its outside was, however, happily contrasted
by the exquisite neatness, and comfortable
warmth, within.

They entered an apartment that was fitted as a
parlour, though the large fire-place, with its culinary
arrangements, betrayed the domestic uses to
which it was occasionally applied. The bright
blaze from the hearth, rendered the light that proceeded
from the candle that Louisa produced, unnecessary;
for the scanty furniture of the room
was easily seen and examined, by the former.
The floor was covered, in the centre, by a carpet
made of rags, a species of manufacture that was,
then, and yet continues to be, much in use, in the
interior; while its edges, that were exposed to
view, were of unspotted cleanliness. There was a
trifling air of better life, in a tea table and work-stand,
as well as in an old-fashioned mahogany
book-case; but the chairs, the dining-table, and
the rest of the furniture, where of the plainest and
cheapest construction. Against the walls were
hung a few specimens of needle-work and drawing,
the former executed with great neatness,
though of somewhat equivocal merit in their

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designs, while the latter were strikingly deficient in
both.

One of the former represented a tomb, with a
youthful female weeping over it, exhibiting a
church with arched windows, in the back-ground.
On the tomb were the names, with the dates of the
births and deaths, of several individuals, all of
whom bore the name of Grant. An extremely
cursory glance at this record, was sufficient to discover
to the young hunter the domestic state of
the divine. He there read, that he was a widower,
and that the innocent and timid maiden, who
had been his companion, was the only surviver of
six children. The knowledge of the dependence,
which each of these meek christians had on the
other, for happiness, threw an additional charm
around the gentle, but kind attentions, which the
daughter paid to the father.

These observations occurred while the party
were seating themselves before the cheerful fire,
during which time, there was a suspension of their
discourse. But when each was comfortably arranged,
and Louisa, after laying aside a thin coat of
faded silk, and a Gipsy hat, that was more becoming
to her modest, ingenuous countenance, than
appropriate to the season, had taken a chair between
her father and the youth, the former resumed
the conversation.

“I trust, my young friend,” he said, “that the
education which you have received, has eradicated
most of those revengeful principles, which you
may have inherited by descent; for I understand
from the expressions of John, that you have some
of the blood of the Delaware tribe. Do not mistake
me, I beg, for it is not colour, nor lineage,
that constitutes merit; and I know not, that he
who claims affinity to the proper owners of this

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soil, has not the best right to tread these hills with
the lightest conscience.”

Mohegan turned solemnly to the speaker, and,
with the peculiarly significant gestures of an Indian,
he spoke:—

“Father, you are not yet past the summer of
life; your limbs are young. Go to the highest
hill, and look around you. All that you see,
from the rising to the setting sun, from the head-waters
of the great spring, to where the `crooked
river' is hid by the hills, is his. He has Delaware
blood, and his right is strong. But the brother of
Miquon is just: he will cut the country in two
parts, as the river cuts the low-lands, and will say
to the `Young Eagle,' Child of the Delawares!
take it—keep it—and be a chief in the land of
your fathers.”

“Never!” exclaimed the young hunter, with a
vehemence that destroyed the rapt attention with
which the divine and his daughter were listening
to the earnest manner of the Indian—“The wolf
of the forest is not more rapacious for his prey,
than that man is greedy for gold; and yet his
glidings into wealth are as subtle as the movements
of a serpent.”

“Forbear, forbear, my son, forbear,” interrupted
Mr. Grant.—“These angry passions must be
subdued. The accidental injury you have received
from Judge Temple, has heightened the sense
of your hereditary wrongs. But remember, that
the one was unintentional, and that the other is
the effect of political changes, which have, in their
course, greatly lowered the pride of kings, and
swept mighty nations from the face of the earth.
Where now are the Philistines, who so often held
the children of Israel in bondage! or that city of
Babylon, which rioted in luxury and vice, and
who styled herself the Queen of Nations, in the

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drunkenness of her pride? Remember the prayer
of our holy litany, where we implore the Divine
power—“That it may please thee to forgive our
enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, and to turn
their hearts.” The sin of the wrongs which have
been done to the natives is shared by Judge
Temple, only, in common with a whole people,
and your arm will speedily be restored to its
strength.”

“This arm!” repeated the youth, scornfully,
pacing the floor in violent agitation; “think you,
sir, that I believe the man a murderer!—oh, no!
he is too wily, too cowardly, for such a crime.
But, let him and his daughter riot in their wealth—
there will a day of retribution come. No, no,
no,” he continued, as he trod the floor more calmly—
“it is for Mohegan to suspect him of such a
crime, as an intent to injure me; but the trifle is
not worth a second thought.”

He seated himself, and hid his face between his
hands, as they rested on his knees.

“It is the hereditary violence of a native's passion,
my child,” said Mr. Grant, in a low tone, to
his affrighted daughter, who was clinging, in terror,
to his arm. “He is mixed with the blood of
the Indians, you have heard; and neither the refinements
of education, nor the advantages of our
excellent liturgy, have been able entirely to eradicate
the evil. But care and time will do much for
him yet.”

Although the divine spoke in a low tone, yet
what he uttered was heard by the youth, who raised
his head, with a smile of indefinite expression,
and spoke more calmly:—

“Be not alarmed, Miss Grant, at either the
wildness of my manner, or that of my dress. I
have been carried away by passions, that I should
struggle to repress. I must attribute it, with your

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father, to the blood in my veins, although I would
not impeach my lineage willingly; for it is all that
is left me to boast of. Yes! I am proud of my
descent from a Delaware chief, who was a warrior
that ennobled human nature. Old Mohegan,
was his friend, and will vouch for his virtues.”

Mr. Grant here took up the discourse, and, finding
the young man more calm, and the aged chief
attentive, he entered into a full and theological
discussion of the duty of forgiveness. The conversation
lasted for more than an hour, when the
visiters arose, and, after exchanging good wishes
with their entertainers, they departed. At the
door they separated, Mohegan taking the direct
route to the village, while the youth moved towards
the lake. The divine stood at the entrance
of his dwelling, regarding the figure of the
aged chief, as it glided, at an astonishing gait,
for his years, along the deep path; his black,
straight hair, just visible over the bundle formed
by his blanket, which was sometimes blended with
the snow under the silvery light of the moon.
From the rear of the house was a window, that
overlooked the lake; and here Louisa was found
by her father, when he entered, gazing, intently
on some object, in the direction of the eastern
mountain. He approached the spot, and saw the
tall figure of the young hunter, at the distance of
half a mile, walking with prodigious steps, across
the wide fields of frozen snow, that covered the
ice, towards the point, where he knew the hut
that was inhabited by the Leather-stocking was
situated, on the margin of the lake, under a rock,
that was crowned by pines and hemlocks. At the
next instant, the wildly looking form entered the
dark shadow, that was cast from the overhanging
trees, and was lost to view.

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“It is marvellous, how long the propensities of
the savage continue, in that remarkable race,”
said the good divine; “but if he perseveres, as
he has commenced, his triumph shall yet be complete.
Remember me, my child, to lend him the
homily `against peril of idolatry,' at his next visit.”

“Surely, father,” cried the maiden, “you do
not think him in danger of relapsing into the worship
of his ancestors!”

“No, my child,” returned the clergyman, laying
his hand affectionately on her flaxen locks, and
smiling, “his white blood would prevent it; but
there is such a thing as the idolatry of our passions.”

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CHAPTER XIII.

And I'll drink out of the quart pot,
Here's a health to the barley mow.
Drinking Song.

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On one of the corners, where the two principal
streets of Templeton intersected each other, stood,
as we have already mentioned, the inn, that was
called the “Bold Dragoon.” In the original plan,
it was ordained, that the village should stretch
along the little stream, that rushed down the valley,
and the street which led from the lake to the
academy, was intended to be its western boundary.
But convenience frequently frustrates the
best regulated plans. The house of Mr., or as,
in consequence of commanding the militia of that
vicinity, he was called Captain Hollister, had, at
an early day, been erected directly facing the
main street, and ostensibly interposed a barrier to
its further progress. Horsemen, and subsequently
teamsters, however, availed themselves of an opening,
at the end of the building, to shorten their
passage westward, until, in time, the regular highway
was laid out along this course, and houses
were gradually built, on either side, so as

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effectually to prevent any subsequent correction of the
evil.

There were two material consequences which
followed this insidious change in the regular plans
of Marmaduke. The one, that the main street,
after running about half its length, was suddenly
reduced to precisely that difference in its width;
and the other, that the “Bold Dragoon” became,
next to the Mansion-house, by far the most conspicuous
edifice in the place.

This conspicuousness, aided by the characters
of the host and hostess, gave the tavern an advantage
over all its future competitors, that no circumstances
could conquer. An effort was, however,
made to do so; and, at the corner diagonally
opposite, stood a new building, that was intended,
by its occupants, to look down all opposition.
It was a house of wood, ornamented in the prevailing
style of architecture, and about the roof
and ballustrades, was one of the three imitators of
the Mansion-house. The upper windows were
filled with rough boards, secured by nails, to keep
out the cold air; for the edifice was far from
finished, although glass was to be seen in the
lower apartments, and the light of the powerful
fires, within, denoted that it was already inhabited.
The exterior was painted white, on the front, and
on the end which was exposed to the street; but
in the rear, and on the side which was intended
to join the neighbouring house, it was coarsely
smeared with Spanish brown. Before the door
stood two lofty posts, connected at the top by a
beam, from which was suspended an enormous
sign, ornamented around its edges, with certain
curious carvings, in pine boards, and on its faces,
loaded with masonic emblems. Over these mysterious
figures, was written, in large letters, “The
Templetown Coffee-House, and Traveller's

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Hotel,” and beneath them, “By Habakkuk Foote
and Joshua Knapp.” This was a fearful rival to
the “Bold Dragoon,” as our readers will the more
readily perceive, when we add, that the same sonorous
names were to be seen over the door of a
newly-erected store in the village, a hatter's shop,
and the gates of a tan-yard. But, either because
too much was attempted to be well executed, or
that the “Bold Dragoon” had established a repution
which could not be easily shaken, not only
Judge Temple and his friends, but most of the
villagers also, who were not in debt to the powerful
firm we have named, frequented the inn of
Captain Hollister, on all occasions where such a
house was necessary.

On the present evening, the limping veteran,
and his consort, were hardly housed, after their
return from the academy, when the sounds of
stamping feet at their threshold announced the
approach of visiters, who were probably assembling,
with a view to compare opinions, on the
subject of the ceremonies they had witnessed.

The public, or, as it was called, the “bar-room,”
of the “Bold Dragoon,” was a spacious
apartment, lined on three sides with benches, and
on the fourth by fire-places. Of the latter, there
were two, of such size as to occupy, with their
enormous jambs, the whole of that side of the
apartment where they were placed, excepting
room enough for a door or two, and a little apartment
in one corner, which was protected by miniature
pallisadoes, and profusely garnished with bottles
and glasses. In the entrance to this sanctuary,
Mrs. Hollister was seated, with great gravity
in her air, while her husband occupied himself
with stirring the fires; moving the logs with a
large stake, burnt to a point at one end.

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“There, Sargeant dear,” said the landlady, after
she thought the veteran had got the logs arranged
in the most judicious manner, “give over
poking the fires, for it's no good yee'll be doing,
now that they burn so convaniently. There's the
glasses on the table there, and the mug that the
Doctor was taking his cider and ginger in, before
the fire here,—jist put them in the bar, will ye?
for we'll be having the Joodge, and the Major, and
Mr. Jones, down the night, widout reckoning Benjamin
Poomp, and the Lawyers: so ye'll be fixing
the room tidy; and put both flip-irons in the
coals; and tell Jude, the lazy, black baste, that if
she's no be claneing up the kitchen, I'll jist turn
her out of the house, and she may live wid the
jontlemen that kape the `Coffee-house,' good
luck to 'em. Och! Sargeant, sure it's a great
privilege to go to a mateing, where a body can sit
asy, widout joomping up and down so often, as
this Mr. Grant is doing the same.”

“It's a privilege at all times, Mistress Hollister,
whether we stand or be seated; or, as good Mr.
Whitefield used to do, after he had made a wearisome
day's march, get on our knees and pray,
like Moses of old, with a flanker to the right and
left, to lift his hands to heaven,” returned her husband,
who composedly performed what she had
directed to be done. “It was a very pretty fight,
Betty, that the Israelites had, on that day, with
the Amalekites. It seems that they fout on a
plain, for Moses is mentioned, as having gone on
to the heights, to overlook the battle, and wrestle
in prayer; and if I should judge, with my little
larning, the Israelites depended mainly on their
horse, for it is written, that Joshua cut up the enemy
with the edge of the sword: from which I infer,
not only that they were horse, but well disciplyn'd
troops. Indeed, it says as much, as that

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they were chosen men; quite likely volunteers;
but raw dragoons seldom strike with the edge of
their swords, particularly if the weapon be any
way crooked.”

“Pshaw! why do ye bother yourself wid taxts,
man, about so small a matter,” interrupted the
landlady; “sure it was the Lord who was wid
'em; for he always sided with the Jews, at first,
before they fell away; and it's but little matter
what kind of men Joshua commanded, so that he
was doing the right bidding. Aven them cursed
millaishy, the Lord forgi'e me for swearing, that
was the death of him, wid their cowardice, would
have carried the day in old times. There's no
rason to be thinking that the soldiers was used to
the drill.”

“I must say, Mrs. Hollister,” rejoined her husband,
“that I have not often seen raw troops fight
better than the left flank of the militia, at the time
you mention. They rallied very handsomely,
and that without beat of drum, which is no easy
thing to do under fire, and were very steady till
he fell. But the scriptures contain no unnecessary
words; and I will maintain, that horse, who know
how to strike with the edge of the sword, must be
well disciplyn'd. Many a good sarmon has been
preached about smaller matters than that one
word! If the text was not meant to be particular,
why wasn't it written, with the sword, and not
with the edge? Now, a back-handed stroke, on
the edge, takes long practice. Goodness! what
an argument would Mr. Whitefield make of that
word edge! As to the Captain, if he had only called
up the guard of dragoons, when he rallied the
foot, they would have shown the inimy what the
edge of a sword was; for, although there was no
commissioned officer with them, yet I think I may
say,”—the veteran continued, stiffening his cravat

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about the throat, and raising himself up, with the
air of a drill-sergeant,—“they were led by a man,
who know'd how to bring them on, in spite of the
ravine.”

“Is it lade on ye would?” cried the landlady,
“when ye know yourself, Mr. Hollister, that the
baste he rode was but little able to joomp from
one rock to another, and the animal was as spry
as a squirrel? Och! but it's useless to talk, for
he's gone this many a long year. I would that he
had lived to see the true light; but there's mercy
for a brave sowl, that died in the saddle, fighting
for the liberty. It's a poor tomb-stone they have
given him, any way, and many a good one that died
like himself: but the sign is very like, and I will
be kapeing it up, while the blacksmith can make
a hook for it to swing on, for all the `coffee-houses'
betwane this and Albany.”

There is no saying where this desultory conversation
would have led the worthy couple, had not
the men who were stamping the snow off their
feet, on the little platform before the door, suddenly
ceased their occupation, and entered the
bar-room.

For ten or fifteen minutes, the different individuals,
who intended either to bestow or receive
edification, before the fires of the “Bold Dragoon,”
on that evening, were collecting, until the
benches were nearly filled with men of different
occupations. Dr. Todd, and a slovenly-looking,
half-genteel young man, who took tobacco profusely,
wore a coat of imported cloth, cut with
something like a fashionable air, frequently exhibited
a large, French silver watch, with a chain
of woven hair, and who, altogether, seemed as
much above the artisans around him, as he was
inferior to the real gentleman, occupied a

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highback, wooden settee, in the most comfortable corner
in the apartment.

Sundry brown mugs, containing cider or beer,
were placed between the heavy andirons, and little
groups were formed among the guests, as subjects
arose, or the liquor was passed from one to
the other. No man was seen to drink by himself,
nor in any instance was more than one vessel
considered necessary, for the same beverage; but
the glass, or the mug, was passed from hand to
hand, until a chasm in the line, or a regard to the
rights of ownership, would restore the dregs of the
potation to him who defrayed the cost.

Toasts were uniformly drank; and occasionally,
some one, who conceived himself peculiarly
endowed by nature to shine in the way of wit,
would attempt some such sentiment as “hoping
that he” who treated “might make a better man
than his father;” or “live till all his friends wished
him dead;” while the more humble pot-companion
contented himself by saying, with a most
imposing gravity in his air, “come, here's luck,”
or by expressing some other equally comprehensive
desire. In every instance, the veteran landlord
was requested to imitate the custom of the
cup-bearers to kings, and taste the liquor he presented,
by the significant invitation of “after you
is manners;” with which request he ordinarily
complied, by wetting his lips, first expressing the
wish of “here's hoping,” leaving it to the imagination
of the hearers to fill the vacuum by whatever
good each thought most desirable. During
these movements, the landlady was busily occupied
with mixing the various compounds required
by her customers, with her own hands, and occasionally
exchanging greetings and inquiries concerning
the conditions of their respective families,
with such of the villagers as approached “the bar.”

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At length, the common thirst being in some
measure assuaged, conversation of a more general
nature became the order of the hour. The physician,
and his companion, who was one of the two
lawyers of the village, being considered the best
qualified to maintain a public discourse with credit,
were the principal speakers, though a remark
was hazarded, now and then, by Mr. Doolittle,
who was thought to be their inferior, only in the
enviable point of education. A general silence
was produced on all but the two speakers, by
the following observation from the practitioner of
the law:—

“So, Doctor Todd, I understand that you have
been performing an important operation, this
evening, by cutting a charge of buck-shot from
the shoulder of the son of Leather-stocking?”

“Yes, sir,” returned the other, elevating his
little head, with an air of great importance, “I
had a small job, up at the Judge's, in that way:
it was, however, but a trifle to what it might have
been, had it gone through the body. The shoulder
is not a very vital part; and I think the young
man will soon be well. But I did not know that
the patient was a son of Leather-stocking: it is
news to me, to hear that Natty had a wife.”

“It is by no means a necessary consequence,”
returned the other, winking, with a shrewd look
around the bar-room; “there is such a thing. I
suppose you know, in law, as a `filius nullius.”'

“Spake it out, man,” exclaimed the landlady;
“spake it out in king's English; what for should
ye be talking Indian, in a room full of christian
folks, though it is about a poor hunter, who is but
a little better in his ways than the wild savages
themselves? Och! it's to be hoped that the missionaries
will, in his own time, make a convarsion
of the poor divils; and then it will matter but

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little, of what colour is the skin, or wedder there be
wool or hair on the head.”

Oh! it is Latin, not Indian, Miss Hollister,”
returned the lawyer, repeating his winks and
shrewd looks; “and Dr. Todd understands Latin,
or how would he read the labels on his gallipots
and drawers? No, Miss Hollister, the
Doctor understands me; don't you, Doctor?”

“Hem—why I guess I am not far out of the
way,” returned Elnathan, endeavouring to imitate
the expression of the other's countenance, by
looking jocular; “Latin is a queer language,
gentlemen;—now, I rather guess there is no one
in the room, except Squire Lippet, who can believe
that `Far.Av.' means oatmeal, in English.”

The lawyer, in his turn, was a good deal embarrassed
by this display of learning; for although
he actually had taken his first degree at one of
the eastern universities, he was somewhat puzzled
with the terms used by his companion. It was
dangerous, however, to appear to be out-done
in learning in a public bar-room, and before so
many of his clients; he therefore put the best face
on the matter, and laughed knowingly, as if there
were a good joke concealed under it, that was
understood only by the physician and himself.
All this was attentively observed by the listeners,
who exchanged looks of approbation; and the
expressions of “tonguey man,” and “I guess
Squire Lippet knows, if any body doos,” were
heard in different parts of the room, as vouchers
for the admiration of his auditors. Thus encouraged,
the lawyer rose from his chair, and, turning
his back to the fire, facing the company, he
continued—

“The son of Natty, or the son of nobody, I
hope the young man is not going to let the matter
drop. This is a country of laws; and I should

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like to see it fairly tried, whether a man who
owns, or says he owns, a hundred thousand acres
of land, has any more right to shoot a body, than
another. What do you think of it, Dr. Todd?”

“Oh! sir, I am of opinion that the gentleman
will soon be well, as I said before; the wownd
isn't in a vital part; and as the ball was extracted
so soon, and the shoulder was what I call well attended
to, I do not think there is as much danger
as there might have been.”

“I say, Squire Doolittle,” continued the angry
attorney, “you are a magistrate, and know what
is law, and what is not law. I ask you, sir, if
shooting a man is a thing that is to be settled so
very easily? Suppose, sir, that the young man
had a wife and family; and suppose that he was
a mechanic, like yourself, sir; and suppose that
his family depended on him for bread; and suppose
that the ball, instead of merely going through
the flesh, had broken the shoulder-blade, and
crippled him for ever;—I ask you all, gentlemen,
supposing this to be the case, whether a jury
wouldn't give what I call handsome damages?”

As the close of this supposititious case was addressed
to the company, generally, Hiram did
not, at first, consider himself called on for a reply;
but finding the eyes of the listeners bent on
him in expectation, he remembered his character
for judicial discrimination, and spoke, observing
a due degree of deliberation and dignity in his
manner.

“Why, if a man should shoot another,” he
said, “and if he should do it on purpose, and if
the law took notice on't, and if a jury should find
him guilty, it would be likely to turn out a stateprison
matter.”

“It would so, sir,” returned the attorney.—
“The law, gentlemen, is no respecter of persons,

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in a free country. It is one of the great blessings
that has been handed down to us from our ancestors,
that all men are equal in the eye of the law,
as they are by nater. Though some may get property,
no one knows how, yet they are not privileged
to transgress the laws, any more than the
poorest citizen in the state. This is my notion,
gentlemen; and I think that if a man had a mind
to bring this matter up, something might be made
out of it, that would help pay for the salve—ha!
Doctor?”

“Why, sir,” returned the physician, who appeared
a little uneasy at the turn the conversation
was taking, “I have the promise of Judge Temple,
before men—not but what I would take his
word as soon as his note of hand—but it was before
men. Let me see—there was Mounshier Ler
Quow, and Squire Jones, and Major Hartmann,
and Miss Pettibone, and one or two of the blacks
by, when he said that his pocket would amply reward
me for what I did.”

“Was the promise made before or after the service
was performed?” asked the attorney.

“It might have been both,” returned the discreet
physician; “though I'm certain he said so,
before I undertook the dressing.”

“But it seems that he said his pocket should
reward you, Doctor,” observed Hiram; “now I
don't know that the law will hold a man to such a
promise: he might give you his pocket with six-pence
in't, and tell you to take your pay out
on't.”

“That would not be a reward in the eye of the
law,” interrupted the attorney—“not what is
called a `quid pro quo;' nor is the pocket to be
considered as an agent, but as part of a man's
own person, that is, in this particular. I am of
opinion that an action would lie on that promise,

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and will undertake to bear him out, free of costs,
if he don't recover.”

To this proposition the physician made no reply,
but he was observed to cast his eyes around
him, as if to enumerate the witnesses, in order to
substantiate this promise also, at a future day,
should it prove necessary. A subject so momentous,
as that of suing Judge Temple, was not very
palatable to the present company, in so public a
place; and a short silence ensued, that was only
interrupted by the opening of the door, and the
entrance of Natty himself,

The old hunter carried in his hand his neverfailing
companion, his rifle; and, although all of
the company were uncovered, excepting the lawyer,
who wore his hat on one side, with a certain
knowing air, Natty moved to the front of one of
the fires, without in the least altering any part of
his dress or appearance. Several questions were
addressed to him, on the subject of the game he had
killed, which he answered readily, and with some
little interest; and the landlord, between whom
and Natty there existed much cordiality, on account
of their both having been soldiers in their
youth, offered him a glass of a liquid, which, if
we might judge from its reception, was no unwelcome
guest. When the forester had gotten his
potation also, he quietly took his scat on the end
of one of the logs, that lay nigh to the fires, and
the slight interruption, produced by his entrance,
seemed to be forgotten.

“The testimony of the blacks could not be taken,
sir,” continued the lawyer, “for they are all
the property of Mr. Jones, who owns their time.
But there is a way by which Judge Temple, or
any other man, might be made to pay for shooting
another, and for the cure in the bargain.—

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There is a way, I say, and that without going into
the `court of errors' too.”

“And a mighty big error ye would make of it,
Mister Todd, cried the landlady, “should ye be
putting the matter into the law at all, with Joodge
Temple, who has a purse as long as one of them
pines on the hill, and who is an asy man to dale
wid, if yees but mind the humour of him. He's a
good man is Joodge Temple, and a kind one, and
one who will be no the likelier to do the pratty
thing, bekaase ye would wish to tarrify him with
the law. I know of but one objaction to the same,
which is an over carelessness about his sowl. It's
nather a Methodie, nor a Papish, nor a Prasbetyrian,
that he is, but jist nothing at all: and it's
hard to think that he, `who will not fight the good
fight, under the banners of a rig'lar church, in
this world, will be mustered among the chosen in
heaven,' as my husband, the Captain there, as ye
call him, says—though there is but one captain
that I know, who desaarves the name. I hopes,
Lather-stocking, ye'll no be foolish, and putting
the boy up to try the law in the matter; for 'twill
be an evil day to ye both, when ye first turn the
skin of so paceable an animal as a sheep into a
bone of contention. The lad is wilcome to his
drink for nothing, until his shouther will bear the
rifle ag'in.”

“Well, that's gin'rous,” was heard from several
mouths at once, at this liberal offer of the land-lady;
while the hunter, instead of expressing
any of that indignation which he might be supposed
to feel, at hearing the hurt of his young
companion alluded to, opened his mouth, with the
silent laugh for which he was so remarkable; and
after he had indulged his humour, made this reply—

“I know'd the Judge would do nothing with

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his smooth-bore, when he got out of his sleigh. I
never see'd but one smooth-bore, that would carry
at all, and that was a French ducking-piece,
upon the big lakes: it had a barrel half as long
ag'in as my rifle, and would throw fine shot into
a goose, at a hundred yards; but it made dreadful
work with the game, and you wanted a boat
to carry it about in. When I went with Sir William
ag'in the French, at Fort Niagara, all the
rangers used the rifle; and a dreadful weapon it
is, in the hands of one who knows how to charge
it, and keeps a steady aim. The Captain knows,
for he says he was a soldier in Shirley's, and
though they were nothing but baggonet-men, he
must know how we cut up the French and Iroquois
in the skrimmages, in that war. Chingach-gook,
which means `Big Sarpent' in English, old
John Mohegan, who lives up at the hut with me,
was a great warrior then, and was out with us; he
can tell all about it, too; though he was an overhand
for the tomahawk, never firing more than
once or twice, before he was running in for the
scalps. Ah! hum! times is dreadfully altered
since then. Why, Doctor, there was nothing but
a foot-path, or at the most a track for pack-horses,
along the Mohawk, from the Garman flats clean
up to the forts. Now, they say, they talk of running
one of them wide roads with gates on't, along
the river; first making a road, and then fencing it
up! I hunted one season back of the Kaatskills,
nigh-hand to the settlements, and the dogs often
lost the scent, when they com'd to them highways,
there was so much travel on them; though I can't
say that the brutes was of a very good breed.—
Old Hector will wind a deer in the fall of the
year, across the broadest place in the Otsego, and
that is a mile and a half, for I paced it myself on

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the ice, when the tract was first surveyed under
the Indian grant.”

“It sames to me, Natty, but a sorry compliment,
to call your cumrad after the evil one,” said
the landlady; “and it's no much like a snake that
old John is looking now. Nimrood would be a
more besaming name for the lad, and a more
christian too, seeing that it comes from the Bible.
The Sargeant read me the chapter about him, the
night before my christening, and a mighty asement
it was, to listen to any thing from the book.”

“Old John and Chingachgook were very different
men to look on,” returned the hunter, shaking
his head at his melancholy recollections.—“In
the `fifty-eighth was,' he was in the middle of manhood,
and was taller than now by three inches.
If you had seen him, as I did, the morning we beat
Dieskau, from behind our log walls, you would
have called him as comely a red-skin as ye ever
set eyes on. He was naked, all to his breech-cloth
and leggens; and you never seed a creater
so handsomely painted. One side of his face was
red, and the other black. His head was shaved
clean, all to a few hairs on the crown, where he
wore a tuft of eagle's feathers, as bright as if they
had come from a peacock's tail. He had coloured
his sides, so that they looked just like an atomy,
ribs and all; for Chingachgook had a great notion
in such things: so that, what with his bold, fiery
countenance, his knife, and his tomahawk, I have
never seed a fiercer warrior on the ground. He
played his part, too, like a man; for I seen him
next day, with thirteen scalps on his pole. And
I will say that for the `Big Snake,' that he always
dealt fair, and never scalped any that he didn't kill
with his own hands.”

“Well, well,” cried the landlady; “fighting is
fighting, any way, and there's different fashions

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in the thing; though I can't say that I relish mangling
a body after the breath is out of it; neither
do I think it can be uphild by doctrine. I
hopes, Sargeant, ye niver was helping in sitch evil
worrek.”

“It was my duty to keep my ranks, and to
stand or fall by the baggonet or lead,” returned
the veteran. “I was then in the fort, and seldom
leaving my place, saw but little of the savages,
who kept on the flanks, or in front, skrimmaging.
I remember, howsomever, to have heard mention
made of the `Great Snake,' as he was called, for
he was a chief of renown; but little did I ever expect
to see him enlisted in the cause of Christianity,
and civilized like old John.”

“Oh! he was christianized by the Moravians,
who was always over intimate with the Delawares,”
said Leather-stocking. “It's my opinion,
that had they been left to themselves, there would
be no such doings now, about the head-waters of
the two rivers, and that these hills mought have
been kept as good hunting-ground, by their right
owner, who is not too old to carry a rifle, and
whose sight is as true as a fish-hawk, hovering—”

He was interrupted by more stamping at the
door, and presently the party from the Mansionhouse
entered, followed by the Indian himself.

-- 193 --

CHAPTER XIV.

There's quart pot, pint pot, half-pint,
Gill pot, half-gill, nipperkin,
And the brown bowl—
Here's a health to the barley mow,
My brave boys,
Here's a health to the barley mow.
Drinking Song.

[figure description] Page 193.[end figure description]

Some little commotion was produced by the
appearance of the new guests, during which the
lawyer disappeared from the room. Most of the
men approached Marmaduke, and shook his offered
hand, hoping “that the Judge was well;”
while Major Hartmann, having laid aside his hat
and wig, and substituted for the latter a warm,
peaked, woollen night-cap, took his seat very
quietly, on one end of the settee, which was relinquished
by its former occupants. His tobacco-box
was next produced, and a clean pipe was handed
him by the landlord. When he had succeeded in
raising a smoke, the Major gave a long whiff, and
turning his head towards the bar, he said—

“Petty, pring in ter toddy.”

In the mean time, the Judge had exchanged
his salutations with most of the company, and taken
a place by the side of the Major, and Richard
had bustled himself into the most comfortable seat

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in the room. Mr. Le Quoi was the last seated,
nor did he venture to place his chair finally, until,
by frequent removals, he had ascertained that he
could not possibly intercept a ray of heat from
any individual present. Mohegan found a place
on an end of one of the benches, and somewhat
approximated to the bar. When these movements
had subsided, the Judge remarked, pleasantly—

“Well, Betty, I find you retain your popularity,
through all weathers, against all rivals, and
amongst all religions.—How liked you the sermon?”

“Is it the sarmon?” exclaimed the landlady;
“I can't say but it was rasonable; but the prayers
is mighty unasy. It's no so small a matter for a
body, in their fifty nint' year, to be moving so
much in church. Mr. Grant sames a godly man,
any way, and his garrel is a hoomble one, and a
devout.—Here, John, is a mug of cider lac'd with
whisky. An Indian will drink cider, though he
niver be athirst.”

“I must say,” observed Hiram, with due deliberation,
“that it was a tonguey thing; and I
rather guess that it gave considerable satisfaction.
There was one part, though, which might have
been left out, or something else put in; but then,
I s'pose that, as it was a written discourse, it is
not so easily altered, as where a minister preaches
without notes.”

“Ay! there's the rub, Joodge,” cried the landlady;
“how can a man stand up and be praching
his word, when all that he is saying is written
down, and he is as much tied to it as iver a thaving
dragoon was to the pickets?”

“Well, well,” cried Marmaduke, waving his
hand for silence, “there is enough said; as Mr.
Grant told us, there are different sentiments on

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such subjects, and in my opinion he spoke most
sensibly.—So Jotham, I am told you have sold
your betterments to a new settler, and have moved
into the village and opened a school. Was it cash
or dicker?”

The man who was thus addressed, occupied a
seat immediately behind Marmaduke; and one
who was ignorant of the extent of the Judge's observation,
might have thought he would have escaped
notice. He was of a thin, shapeless figure,
with a discontented expression of countenance,
and with something extremely shiftless in his
whole air. Thus spoken to, after turning and
twisting a little, by way of preparation, he made
a reply.

“Why, part cash, and part dicker. I sold out
to a Pumfret-man, who was so'thin forehanded.
He was to give me ten dollars an acre for the
clearin, and one dollar an acre over the first cost,
on the wood-land; and we agreed to leave the
buildins to men. So I tuck Asa Mountagu, and
he tuck Absalom Bement, and they two tuck old
Squire Naphtali Green. And so they had a meetin,
and made out a vardict of eighty dollars for
the buildins. There was twelve acres of clearin,
at ten dollars, and eighty-eight at one, and the
whull came to jist two hundred and eighty-six
dollars and a half, after paying the men.”

“Hum,” said Marmaduke: “what did you
give for the place?”

“Why, besides what's comin to the Judge, I
gi'n my brother Tim, a hundred dollars for his
bargain; but then there's a new house on't, that
cost me sixty more, and I paid Moses a hundred
dollars, for choppin, and loggin, and sowin; so
that the whull stood me in about two hundred
and sixty dollars. But then I had a great crop
off on't, and as I got jist twenty-six dollars and a

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half more than it cost, I conclude I made a pretty
good trade on't.”

“Yes, but you forget that the crop was yours
without the trade, and you have turned yourself
out of doors for twenty-six dollars.”

“Oh! the Judge is clean out,” said the man,
with a look of sagacious calculation; “he turned
out a span of horses, that is wuth a hundred and
fifty dollars of any man's money, with a bran new
wagon; fifty dollars in cash; a good note for
eighty more; and a side-saddle, that was valood
at seven and a half—so there was jist twelve shillings
betwixt us. I wanted him to turn out a set
of harness, and take the cow and the sap-troughs.
He wouldn't—but I saw through it; he thought I
should have to buy the tacklin afore I could use
the wagon and horses; but I know'd a thing or
two myself: I should like to know of what use is
the tacklin to him! I offered him to trade back
ag'in, for one hundred and fifty-five. But my
woman said she wanted a churn, so I tuck a churn
for the change.”

“And what do you mean to do with your time
this winter? you must remember that time is money.”

“Why, as the master is gone down country, to
see his mother, who, they say, is going to make
a die on't, I agreed to take the school in hand,
till he comes back. If times doosn't get wuss in
the spring, I've some notion of going into trade,
or maybe I may move off to the Genessee; they
say they are carryin on a great stroke of business
that-a-way. If the wust comes to the wust, I can
but work at my trade, for I was brought up in a
shoe manufactory.”

It would seem, that Marmaduke did not think
his society of sufficient value, to attempt inducing
him to remain where he was; for he addressed no

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further discourse to the man, but turned his attention
to other subjects.—After a short pause, Hiram
ventured a question:—

“What news does the Judge bring us from the
legislater? it's not likely that congress has done
much this session; or maybe the French haven't
fit any more battles lately?”

“The French, since they have beheaded their
king, have done nothing but fight,” returned the
Judge. “The character of the nation seems
changed. I knew many French gentlemen, during
our war, and they all appeared to me to be men
of great humanity and goodness of heart; but
these Jacobins are as blood-thirsty as bull-dogs.”

“There was one Roshambow wid us, down at
Yorrek-town,” cried the landlady; “a mighty
pratty man he was, too; and their horse was the
very same. It was there that the Sargeant got
the hurt in the leg, from the English batteries,
bad luck to 'em.”

“Ah! mon pauvre Roi!” murmured Monsieur
Le Quoi.

“The legislature have been passing laws,” continued
Marmarduke, “that the country much required.
Among others, there is an act, prohibiting
the drawing of seines, at any other than proper
seasons, in certain of our streams and small
lakes; and another, to prohibit the killing of
deer in the teeming months. These are laws that
were loudly called for, by judicious men; nor do
I despair of getting an act, to make the unlawful
felling of timber a criminal offence.”

The hunter listened to this detail with breathless
attention, and when the Judge had ended, he
laughed in open derision for a moment, before he
made this reply:—

“You may make your laws, Judge, but who
will you find to watch the mountains through the

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long summer days, or the lakes at night? Game
is game, and he who finds may kill; that has been
the law in these mountains for forty years, to my
sartain knowledge; and I think one old law is
worth two new ones. None but a green-one
would wish to kill a doe with a fa'n by its side,
unless his moccasins was gettin old, or his leggins
ragged, for the flesh is lean and coarse. But
a rifle rings amongst them rocks along the lake
shore, sometimes, as if fifty pieces was fired at
once:—it would be hard to tell where the man
stood who pulled the trigger.”

“Armed with the dignity of the law, Mr.
Bumppo,” returned the Judge, gravely, “a vigilant
magistrate can prevent much of the evil that
has hitherto prevailed, and which is already rendering
the game scarce. I hope to live to see the
day, when a man's rights in his game shall be as
much respected as his title to his farm.”

“Your titles and your farms are all new together,”
cried Natty; “but laws should be equal,
and not more for one than another. I shot a deer,
last Wednesday was a fortnight, and it floundered
through the snow-banks till it got over a brush
fence; I catch'd the lock of my rifle in the twigs,
in following, and was kept back, until finally the
creater got off. Now I want to know who is to
pay me for that deer; and a fine buck it was. If
there hadn't been a fence, I should have gotten
another shot into it; and I never draw'd upon
any thing that hadn't wings, three times running,
in my born days.—No, no, Judge, it's the farmers
that makes the game scearce, and not the hunters.”

“Ter teer is not so plenty as in ter olt war,
Pumppo,” said the Major, who had been an attentive
listener, amidst clouds of smoke; “put
ter lant is not mate, as for ter teer to live on, put
for Christians.”

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[figure description] Page 199.[end figure description]

“Why, Major, I believe you're a friend to justice
and the right, though you go so often to the
grand house; but it's a hard case to a man, to
have his honest calling for a livelihood stopt by
sitch laws, and that too when, if right was done,
he mought hunt or fish on any day in the week,
or on the best flat in the Patent, if he was so
minded.”

“I unterstant you, Letter-stockint,” returned
the Major, fixing his black eyes, with a look of
peculiar meaning, on the hunter; “put you tidn't
use to pe so prutent, as to look ahet mit so much
care.”

“Maybe there wasn't so much 'casion,” said
the hunter, a little sulkily; when he sunk into a
profound silence, from which he was not roused
for some time.

“The Judge was saying so'thin about the
French,” Hiram observed, when the pause in the
conversation had continued a decent time.

“Yes, sir,” returned Marmaduke, “the Jacobins
of France seem rushing from one act of licentiousness
to another. They continue those
murders, which are dignified by the name of executions.
You have heard, that they have added
the death of their Queen to the long list of their
crimes.”

“Les Bêtes!” again murmured Monsieur Le
Quoi, turning himself suddenly in his chair, with
a convulsive start.

“The province of La Vendée is laid waste by
the troops of the republic, and hundreds of its inhabitants,
who are royalists in their sentiments,
are shot at a time.—La Vendée is a district in the
south-west of France, that continues yet much
attached to the family of the Bourbons: doubtless
Monsieur Le Quoi is acquainted with it, and can
describe it more faithfully.”

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[figure description] Page 200.[end figure description]

“Non, non, non, mon cher ami,” returned the
Frenchman, in a suppressed voice, but speaking
rapidly, and gesticulating with his right hand, as
if for mercy, while with his left he concealed his
eyes.

“There have been many battles fought lately,”
continued Marmaduke, “and the infuriated republicans
are too often victorious. I cannot say,
however, that I am sorry they have captured Toulon
from the English, for it is a place to which
they seem to have a just right.”

“Ah—ha!” exclaimed Monsieur Le Quoi,
springing on his feet, and flourishing both arms
with great animation; “ces Anglais! dey be vipt!
De French be one gallant peop', if dere vas gen'ra!.
Ah—ha! Toulon take! c'est bon! I do vish
dat dey take Londre—pardonnez moi; mais, it
ees bon!”

The Frenchman continued to move about the
room with great alacrity for a few minutes, repeating
his exclamations to himself; when, overcome
by the contradictory nature of his emotions,
he suddenly burst out of the house, and was seen
wading through the snow towards his little shop,
waving his arms on high, as if to pluck down honour
from the moon. His departure excited but
little surprise, for the villagers were used to his
manner; but Major Hartmann laughed outright,
for the first time during his visit, as he lifted the
mug, and observed—

“Ter Frenchman is mat—put he is goot as for
notting to trink; he is trunk mit joy.”

“The French are good soldiers,” said Captain
Hollister; “they stood us in hand a good turn,
down at York-town; nor do I think, although I
am an ignorant man about the great movements
of the army, that his Excellency would have been

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able to march against Cornwallis, without their
reinforcements,”

“Ye spake the trut', Sargeant,” interrupted his
wife, “and I would iver have ye be doing the
same. It's varry pratty men is the French; and
jist when I stopt the cart, the time when ye was
pushing on in front it was, to kape the rig'lers
in, a rigiment of the jontlemen marched by, and
so I dealt them out to their liking. Was it pay I
got? sure did I, and in good, solid crowns: the
divil a bit of continental could they muster among
them all, for love nor money. Och! the Lord
forgive me for swearing and spakeing of sich vanities:
but this I will say for the French, that they
paid in good silver; and one glass would go a
great way wid 'em, for they gin'rally handed it
back wid a drop in the cup; and that's a brisk
trade, Joodge, where the pay is good, and the
men not over partic'lar.”

“A thriving trade, Mrs. Hollister,” said Marmaduke.
“But what has become of Richard?
he jumped up as soon as seated, and has been absent
so long that I am fearful he has frozen.”

“No fear of that, cousin 'duke,” cried the gentleman
himself; “business will sometimes keep a
man warm, the coldest night that every snapt in
the mountains. Betty, your husband told me, as
we came out of church, that your hogs were getting
mangy, so I have been out to take a look at
them, and found it true. I stepped across, Doctor,
and got your boy to weigh me out a pound of salts,
and have been mixing it with their swill. I'll bet
a saddle of venison against a gray squirrel, that
they are better in a week. And now, Mrs. Hollister,
I'm ready for a hissing mug of flip.”

“Sure, I know'd yee'd be wanting that same,”
said the landlady; “it's mixt and ready to the
boiling. Sargeant dear, jist be handing up the

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iron, will ye?—no, the one in the far fire, it's
black, ye will see.—Ah! you've the thing now;
look if it's not as red as a cherry.”

The beverage was heated, and Richard took
that kind of draught which men are apt to indulge
in, who think that they have just executed a clever
thing, especially when they like the liquor.

“Oh! you have a hand, Betty, that was formed
to mix flip,” cried Richard, when he paused
for breath. “The very iron has a flavour in it.
Here, John; drink, man, drink. I and you and
Dr. Todd, have done a good thing with the shoulder
of that lad, this very night. 'Duke, I made a
song while you were gone; one day when I had
nothing to do; so I'll sing you a verse or two,
though I haven't really determined on the tune
yet.



What is life but a scene of care,
Where each one must toil in his way?
Then let us be jolly, and prove that we are
A set of good fellows, who seem very rare,
And can laugh and sing all the day.
Then let us be jolly,
And cast away folly
For grief turns a black head to gray.

There, 'duke, what do you think of that? There
is another verse of it, all but the last line. I
haven't got a rhyme for the last line yet.—Well,
old John, what do you think of the music? as
good as one of your war-songs, ha!”

“Good,” said Mohegan, who had been sharing
too deeply in the potations of the landlady, besides
paying a proper respect to the passing mugs
of the Major and Marmaduke.

“Pravo! pravo! Richart,” cried the Major,
whose black eyes were beginning to swim in moisture;
pravissimo! it is a goot song; but Natty
Pumppo hast a petter. Letter-stockint, vilt sing?

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say, olt poy, vilt sing ter song, as apout the
woots?”

“No, no, Major,” returned the hunter, with a
melancholy shake of the head; “I have lived to
see what I thought eyes could never behold in
these hills, and I have no heart left for singing. If
he, that has a right to be master and ruler here,
is forced to squinch his thirst, when a-dry, with
snow-water, it ill becomes them that have lived
by his bounty to be making merry, as if there
was nothing in the world but sunshine and summer.”

When he had spoken, Leather-stocking again
dropped his head on his kness, and concealed his
hard and wrinkled features with his hands. The
change from the excessive cold without to the heat
of the bar-room, coupled with the depth and frequency
of Richard's draughts, had already levelled
whatever inequality there might have existed
between him and the other guests, on the score of
spirits; and he now held out a pair of swimming
mugs of foaming flip towards the hunter, as he
cried—

“Merry! ay! merry Christmas to you, old
boy! Sunshine and summer! no! you are blind,
Leather-stocking, 'tis moonshine and winter;—
take these spectacles, and open your eyes—


So let us be jolly,
And cast away folly,
For grief turns a black head to gray.

“Hear how old John turns his quavers. What
damned dull music an Indian song is, after all,
Major. I wonder if they ever sing by note?”

While Richard was singing and talking, Mohegan
was uttering dull, monotonous tones, keeping
time by a gentle motion of his head and body.
He made use of but few words, and such as he did

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utter were in his native language, and consequently,
only understood by himself and Natty.
Without heeding Richard, he continued to sing a
kind of wild, melancholy air, that rose, at times, in
sudden and quite elevated notes, and then fell
again into the low, quavering sounds, that seemed
to compose the character of his music.

The attention of the company was now much
divided, the men in the rear having formed themselves
into little groups, where they were discussing
various matters; among the principal of which
were, the treatment of mangy hogs, and Parson
Grant's preaching; while Dr. Todd was endeavouring
to explain to Marmaduke the nature of
the hurt received by the young hunter. Mohegan
continued to sing, while his countenance was becoming
vacant, though, coupled with his thick
bushy hair, it was assuming an expression very
much like brutal ferocity. His notes were gradually
growing louder, and soon rose to a height that
caused a general cessation in the discourse. The
hunter now raised his head again, and addressed
the old warrior, warmly, in the Delaware language,
which, for the benefit of our readers, we
shall render freely into English.

“Why do you sing of your battles, Chingachgook,
and of the warriors you have slain, when
the worst enemy of all is near you, and keeps the
Young Eagle from his rights? I have fought in
as many battles as any warrior in your tribe, but
cannot boast of my deeds at such a time as this.”

“Hawk-eye,” said the Indian, tottering with a
doubtful step from his place, “I am the Great
Snake of the Delawares; I can track the Mingoes,
like an adder that is stealing on the whippoor-will's
eggs, and strike them, like the rattlesnake,
dead at a blow. The white man made the
tomahawk of Chingachgook bright as the waters

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of Otsego, when the last sun is shining; but it is
red with the blood of the Maquas.”

“And why have you slain the Mingo warriors?
was it not to keep these hunting grounds and
lakes to your father's children? and were they
not given in solemn council to the Fire-cater? and
does not the blood of a warrior run in the veins of
a young chief, who should speak aloud, where his
voice is now too low to be heard?”

The appeal of the hunter seemed, in some measure,
to recall the confused faculties of the Indian,
who turned his face towards the listeners, and
gazed intently on the Judge. He shook his head,
throwing his hair back from his countenance, and
exposed his eyes, that were glaring with a fierce
expression of wild resentment. But the man was
not himself. His hand seemed to make a fruitless
effort to release his tomahawk, which was
confined by its handle to his belt, while his eyes
gradually became again vacant. Richard at that
instant thrusting a mug before him, his features
changed to the grin of idiocy, and seizing the
vessel with both hands, he sunk backward on the
bench, and drunk until satiated, when he made an
effort to lay aside the mug, with the helplessness
of total inebriety.

“Shed not blood!” exclaimed the hunter, as he
watched the countenance of the Indian in its moment
of ferocity—“but he is drunk, and can do
no harm. This is the way with all the savages;
give them liquor, and they make dogs of themselves.
Well, well—the time will come when
right will be done, and we must have patience.”

Natty still spoke in the Delaware language, and
of course was not understood. He had hardly
concluded, before Richard cried—

“Well, old John is soon sowed up. Give him
a birth, Captain, in the bara, and I will pay for it.

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I am rich to-night, ten times richer than 'duke,
with all his lands, and military lots, and funded
debts, and bonds, and mortgages.


Come let us be jolly,
And cast away folly,
For grief—
Drink, King Hiram—drink, Mr. Doo-nothing—
drink, sir, I say. This is a Christmas eve, which
comes, you know, but once a year.”

“He! he! he! the Squire is quite moosical
to-night,” said Hiram, whose visage began to give
marvellous signs of relaxation. “I rather guess
we shall make a church on't yet, Squire?”

“A church, Mr. Doolittle! we will make a cathedral
of it! bishops, priests, deacons, wardens,
vestry, and choir; organ, organist, and bellows!
By the lord Harry, as Benjamin says, we will
clap a steeple on the other end of it, and make
two churches of it. What say you, 'duke, will
you pay? ha! my cousin Judge, wilt pay?”

“Thou makest such a noise, Dickon,” returned
Marmaduke, “it is impossible that I can hear
what Dr. Todd is saying. I think thou observed,
it is probable that the wound will fester, so
as to occasion danger to the limb, in this cold
weather?”

“Out of nater, sir, quite out of nater;” said Elnathan,
attempting to expectorate, but succeeding
only in throwing a light, frothy substance, like a
flake of snow, into the fire—“quite out of nater,
that a wownd so well dressed, and with the ball
in my pocket, should fester. I s'pose, as the
Judge talks of taking the young man into his
house, it will be most convenient if I make but one
charge on't.”

“I should think one would do,” returned Marmaduke,
with that arch smile that so often

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beamed on his face; leaving the beholder in doubt
whether he most enjoyed the character of his
companion, or his own covert humour.

The landlord had succeeded in placing the Indian
on some straw, in one of his out-buildings,
where, covered with his own blanket, John continued
for the remainder of the night.

In the mean time, Major Hartmann began to
grow noisy and jocular; glass succeeded glass, and
mug after mug was introduced, until the carousal
had run deep into the night, or rather morning;
when the veteran German expressed an inclination
to return to the Mansion-house. Most of the
party had already retired, but Marmaduke knew
the habits of his friend too well to suggest an earlier
adjournment. So soon, however, as the proposal
was made, the Judge eagerly availed himself
of it, and the trio prepared to depart. Mrs.
Hollister attended them to the door in person,
cautioning her guests as to the safest manner of
leaving her premises.

“Lane on Mister Jones, Major,” said she,
“he's young, and will be a support to ye. Well,
it's a charming sight to see ye, any way, at the
Bould Dragoon; and sure it's no harm to be kaping
a Christmas-eve wid a light heart, for it's no
telling when we may have sorrow come upon us.
So good night, Joodge, and a merry Christmas to
ye all, to-morrow morning.”

The gentlemen made their adieus as well as
they could, and taking the middle of the road,
which was a fine, wide, and well-beaten path, they
did tolerably well until they reached the gate
of the Mansion-house; but on entering the Judge's
domains, they encountered some slight difficulties.
We shall not stop to relate them, but
will just mention that, in the morning, sundry
diverging paths were to be seen in the snow;

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and that once during their progress to the door,
Marmaduke, missing his companions, was enabled
to trace them by one of these paths to a
spot, where he discovered them with nothing visible
but their heads; Richard singing in a most vivacious
strain,


“Come let us be jolly,
And cast away folly,
For grief turns a black head to gray.”

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CHAPTER XV.

“As she lay, on that day, in the Bay of Biscay, O!”

[figure description] Page 209.[end figure description]

Previously to the occurrence of the scene at
the “Bold Dragoon,” Elizabeth had been safely
reconducted to the Mansion-house, where she was
left, as its mistress, either to amuse or employ
herself during the evening, as best suited her own
inclination. Most of the lights were extinguished;
but as Benjamin adjusted, with great care
and regularity, four large candles, in as many
massive candlesticks of brass, in a row on the
sideboard, the hall possessed a peculiar air of
comfort and warmth, contrasted with the cheerless
aspect of the room she had left, in the academy.

Remarkable had been one of the listeners to
Mr. Grant, and returned with her resentment,
which had been not a little excited by the language
of the Judge, somewhat softened by reflection
and the worship. She recollected the youth of
Elizabeth, and thought it no difficult task, under
present appearances, to exercise that power indirectly,
which hitherto she had enjoyed undisputed.

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The idea of being governed, or of being compelled
to pay the deference of servitude, was absolutely
intolerable; and she had already determined
within herself, some half-dozen times, to make
an effort, that should at once bring to an issue the
delicate point of her domestic condition. But as
often as she met the dark, proud eye of Elizabeth,
who was walking up and down the apartment,
musing on the scenes of her youth, and the change
in her condition, and perhaps the events of the
day, the housekeeper experienced an awe, that
she would not own to herself could be excited by
any thing mortal. It, however, checked her advances,
and for some time held her tongue-tied.
At length she determined to commence the discourse,
by entering on a subject that was apt to
level all human distinctions, and in which she
might display her own abilities.

“It was quite a wordy sarmont that Parson
Grant give us to-night,” said Remarkable.—
“Them church ministers be commonly smart
sarmonizers; but they write down their idees,
which is a great privilege. I don't think that by
nater they are sitch tonguey speakers for an offhand
discourse, as the standing-order ministers
be.”

“And what denomination do you distinguish as
the standing-order?” inquired Miss Temple, with
some surprise.

“Why, the Presbyter'ans, and Congregationals,
and Baptists too, for-ti-'now; and all sitch
as don't go on their knees to prayer.”

“By that rule, then, you would call those who
belong to the persuasion of my father, the sittingorder,”
observed Elizabeth.

“I'm sure I've never heer'n 'em spoken of by
any other name than Quakers, so called,” returned
Remarkable, betraying a slight uneasiness: “I

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should be the last one to call them otherwise, for
I never in my life used a disparaging tarm of the
Judge, or any of his family. I've always set store
by the Quakers, they are sitch pretty-spoken, clever
people; and it's a wonderment to me, how
your daddy come to marry into a church family,
for they are as contrary in religion as can be.
One sits still, and for the most part, says nothing,
while the church folks practyse all kinds of ways,
so that I sometimes think it quite moosical to see
them; for I went to a church-meeting once before,
down country.”

“You have found an excellence in the church
liturgy, that has hitherto escaped me,” said Miss
Temple. “I will thank you to inquire whether
the fire in my room burns: I feel fatigued with
my day's journey, and will retire.”

Remarkable felt a wonderful inclination to tell
the young mistress of the mansion, that by opening
a door she might see for herself; but prudence
got the better of her resentment, and after
pausing some little time, as a salvo to her dignity,
she did as desired. The report was favourable,
and the young lady, wishing Benjamin, who was
filling the stove with wood, and the housekeeper,
each a good night, withdrew.

The instant that the door closed on Miss Temple,
Remarkable commenced a sort of mysterious,
ambiguous discourse, that was neither abusive nor
commendatory of the qualities of the absent personage;
but which seemed to be drawing nigh,
by regular degrees, to a most dissatisfied description.
The Major-domo made no reply, but continued
his occupation with great industry, which
being happily completed, he took a look at the
thermometer, and then, opening a drawer of the
sideboard, he produced a supply of stimulants,
that would have served to keep the warmth in his

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system, without the aid of the enormous fire he
had been building. A small stand was drawn up
near the stove, and the bottles and the glasses necessary
for convenience, were quietly arranged.
Two chairs were placed by the side of this comfortable
situation, when Benjamin, for the first
time, appeared to observe his companion.

“Come,” he cried, “come, Mistress Remarkable,
bring yourself to an anchor in this here chair.
It's a peeler without, I can tell you, good woman;
but what cares I, blow high or blow low, d'ye see,
it's all the same thing to Ben. The niggers are
snug stowed below, before a fire that would roast
an ox whole. The thermometer stands now at
fifty-five, but if there's any vartue in good maple
wood, I'll weather upon it, before one glass, as
much as ten points more, so that the Squire, when
he comes home from Betty Hollister's warm room,
will feel as hot as a hand that has given the rigging
a lick with bad tar. Come, Mistress, bring
up in this here chair, and tell me how it is you
like our new heiress.”

“Why to my notion, Mr. Penguillum—”

“Pump—Pump,” interrupted Benjamin; “it's
Christmas-eve, Mistress Remarkable, and so d'ye
see, you had better call me Pump. It's a shorter
name, and as I mean to pump this here decanter
till it sucks, why you may as well call me Pump.”

“Did you ever!” cried Remarkable, with a
laugh that seemed to unhinge every joint in her
body: “You're a moosical creater, Benjamin,
when the notion takes you. But as I was saying,
I rather guess that times will be altered now in
this house.”

“Altered!” exclaimed the Major-domo, eyeing
the bottle, that was assuming the clear aspect of
cut glass with astonishing rapidity; “it don't

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matter much, Mistress Remarkable, so long as I
keep the keys of the lockers in my pocket.”

“I can't say,” continued the housekeeper, “but
there's good eatables and drinkables enough in
the house for a body's content—a little more sugar,
Benjamin, in the glass—for Squire Jones is
an excellent provider. But new lords, new laws;
and I shouldn't wonder if you and I had an unsartain
time on't in footer.”

“Life is as unsartain as the wind that blows,”
said Benjamin, with a most imposingly moralizing
air; “and nothing is more vari'ble than the
wind, Mistress Remarkable, unless you happen to
fall in with the trades, d'ye see, and then you
may run for the matter of a month at a time, with
studding-sails on both sides alow and aloft, and
with the cabin-boy at the wheel.”

“I know that life is disp'ut unsartain,” said Remarkable,
compressing her features to the humour
of her companion; “but I expect there will
be great changes made in the house to rights; and
that you will find a young man put over your
head, as well as there is one that wants to be over
mine; and after having been settled as long as
you have, Benjamin, I should judge that to be
hard.”

“Promotion should go according to length of
sarvice,” said the Major-domo; “and if-so-be that
they ship a hand for my birth, or place a new
steward aft, I shall throw up my commission in
less time than you can put a pilot-boat in stays.
Thof Squire Dickens,” this was a common misnomer
with Benjamin, “is a nice gentleman, and
as good a man to sail with as heart could wish, yet
I shall tell the Squire, d'ye see, in plain English,
and that's my native tongue, that if-so-be he is
thinking of putting any Johnny-raw over my
head, why I shall resign. I began forrard,

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Mistress Pretty-bones, and worked my way aft, like
a man. I was six months aboard a Garnsey lugger,
hauling in the slack of the lee-sheet, and
coiling up rigging. From that I went a few trips
in a fore-and-after, in the same trade, which after
all, was but a blind kind of sailing in the dark,
where a man larns but little, excepting how to
steer by the stars. Well! then, d'ye see, I larnt
how a topmast should be slushed, and how a topgallant-sail
was to be becketted; and then I did
small jobs in the cabin, such as mixing the skipper's
grog. 'Twas there I got my taste, which
you must have often seen, is excellent. Well,
here's better acquaintance to us.”

Remarkable nodded a return to the compliment,
and took a sip of the beverage before her;
for, provided it was well sweetened, she had no
objection to a small potation now and then. After
this observance of courtesy between the worthy
couple, the dialogue proceeded as follows:

“You have had great experunces in your life,
Benjamin; for, as the scripter says, `they that go
down to the sea in ships see the works of the
Lord.' ”

“Ay! for that matter, they in brigs and
schooners too; and it mought say the works of the
devil. The sea, Mistress Remarkable, is a great
advantage to a man, in the way of knowledge, for
he sees the fashions of nations, and the shape of a
country. Now, I suppose, for myself here, who
is but an unlarned man to some that follows the
seas, I suppose that, taking the coast from Cape
Ler-Hogue as low down as Cape Finish-there,
there isn't so much as a head-land, or an island,
that I don't know either the name of it, or something
more or less about it. Take enough, woman,
to colour the water. Here's sugar. It's a
sweet tooth, that fellow that you hold on upon

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[figure description] Page 215.[end figure description]

yet, Mistress Pretty-bones. But as I was saying,
take the whole coast along, I know it as well as
the way from here to the Bold Dragoon; and a
devil of an acquaintance is that Bay of Biscay.
Whew! I wish you could but hear the wind blow
there. It sometimes takes two to hold one man's
hair on his head. Scudding through the Bay is
pretty much the same thing as travelling the roads
in this country, up one side of a mountain, and
down the other.”

Do tell!” exclaimed Remarkable; “and does
the sea run as high as mountains, Benjamin?”

“Well, I will tell; but first let's taste the grog.
Hem! its the right kind of stuff, I must say, that
you keeps in this country; but then you're so
close aboard the West-Indees, you make but a
small run of it. By the lord Harry, woman, if
Garnsey only lay some where between Cape
Hatteras and the Bite of Logann, but you'd see
rum cheap! As to the seas, they runs more in
lippers in the Bay of Biscay, unless it may be in
a sow-wester, when they tumble about quite
handsomely; thof its not in the narrow seas that
you are to look for a swell; just go off the Western-Islands,
in a westerly blow, keeping the land
on your larboard hand, with the ship's head to
the south'ard, and bring to, under a close-reef'd
topsail; or mayhap a reef'd foresail. with a foretopmast-staysail;
and mizzen-staysail, to keep her
up to the sea, if she will bear it; and lay there
for the matter of two watches, if you want to see
mountains. Why, good woman, I've been off
there in the Boadishey frigate, when you could
see nothing but some such matter as a piece of
sky, mayhap, as big as the mainsail; and then
again, there was a hole under your lee-quarter,
big enough to hold the whole British navy.”

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[figure description] Page 216.[end figure description]

“Oh! for massy's sake! and wan't you afeard,
Benjamin? and how did you get off?”

“Afeard! who the devil do you think was to
be frightened at a little salt water tumbling about
his head? As for getting off, when we had enough
of it, and had washed our decks down pretty
well, we called all hands, for d'ye see, the watch
below was in their hammocks, all the same as if
they were in one of your best bed-rooms; and so
we watched for a smooth time; clapt her helm
hard a-weather, let fall the foresail, and got the
tack aboard; and so, when we got her afore it, I
ask you, Mistress Pretty-bones, if she did'nt walk?
didn't she! I'm no liar, good woman, when I
say that I saw that ship jump from the top of one
sea to another, just like one of these squirrels,
that can fly, jumps from tree to tree.?'

“What, clean out of the water!” exclaimed Remarkable,
lifting her two lank arms, with their
bony hands spread in astonishment.

“It was no such easy matter to get out of the
water, good woman, for the spray flew so that
you could'nt tell which was sea and which was
cloud. So there we kept her afore it, for the matter
of two glasses. The First Lieutenant he cun'd
the ship himself, and there was four quarter-masters
at the wheel, besides the master, with six forecastle
men in the gun-room, at the relieving
tackles. But then she behaved herself so well!
Oh! she was a sweet ship, mistress! That one
frigate was well worth more, to live in, than the
best house in the island. If I was King of England,
I'd have her hauled up above Lon'on bridge,
and fit her up for a palace; because why? If any
body can afford to live comfortably, his majesty
can.”

“Well! but Benjamin,” cried his listener, who

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[figure description] Page 217.[end figure description]

was in an ecstasy of astonishment, at this relation
of the steward's dangers, “what did you do?”

“Do! why we did our duty, like good hearty
fellows. Now, if the countrymen of Mounsheer
Ler Quaw had been aboard of her, they would
have just struck her ashore on some of them small
islands; but we run along the land until we found
her dead to leeward off the mountains of Pico, and
dam'me, if I know to this day how we got there,
whether we jumped over the island, or hauled
round it: but there we was, and there we lay,
under easy sail, fore-reaching, first upon one tack
and then upon t'other, so as to poke her nose out
now and then, and take a look to wind'ard, till
the gale blow'd its pipe out.”

“I wonder now!” exclaimed Remarkable, to
whom most of the terms used by Benjamin were
perfectly unintelligible, but who had got a confused
idea of a raging tempest; “it must be an
awful life, that going to sea! and I don't feel
astonishment that you're so affronted with the
thoughts of being forced to quit a comfortable
home like this. Not that a body cares much for't,
as there's more house than one to live in. Why,
when the Judge agreed with me to come and live
with him, I'd no more notion of stopping any time,
than any thing. I happened in, just to see how
the family did, about a week after Miss Temple
died, thinking to be back home agin night;
but the family was in sitch a distressed way, that I
could'nt but stop awhile and help 'em on. I
thought the sitooation a good one, seeing that I
was an unmarried body, and they were so much
in want of help; so I tarried.”

“And a long time have you left your anchors
down in the same place, mistress; I think you
must find that the ship rides easy?”

“How you talk, Benjamin! there's no

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believing a word you say. I must say that the Judge
and Squire Jones have both acted quite clever, so
long; but I see that now we shall have a specimen
to the contrary. I heer'n say that the Judge
was gone a great 'broad, and that he meant to
bring his darter hum, but I did'nt calcoolate on
sitch carrins on. To my notion, Benjamin, she's
likely to turn out a desput ugly gall.”

“Ugly!” echoed the Major-domo, opening his
eyes, that were beginning to close in a very suspicious
sleepiness, in wide amazement; “by the
Lord Harry, woman, I should as soon think of
calling the Boadishey a clumsy frigate. What
the devil would you have? arn't her eyes as bright
as the morning and evening stars! and isn't her
hair as black and glistening as rigging that has
just had a lick of tar! does'nt she move as stately
as a first-rate in smooth water, on a bow-line!
Why, woman, the figure-head of the Boadishey
was a fool to her, and that, as I've often heard
the captain say, was an image of a great Queen;
and arn't Queens always comely, woman? for
who do you think would be a King, and not choose
a handsome bedfellow?”

“Talk decent, Benjamin,” said the housekeeper,
“or I won't keep your company. I don't
gainsay her being comely to look on, but I will
maintain that she's likely to show but poor conduct.
She seems to think herself too good to
talk to a poor body. From what Squire Jones
had tell'd me, I some expected to be quite captivated
by her company. Now, to my reckoning,
Lowizy Grant is much more pritty behaved than
Betsy Temple. She wouldn't so much as hold discourse
with me, when I wanted to ask her how
she felt, on coming home and missing her mammy.”

“Perhaps she didn't understand you, woman;

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you are none of the best linguister; and then Miss
Lizzy has been exercising the King's English
under a great Lon'on lady, and, for that matter,
can talk the language almost as well as myself,
or any native born British subject. You've forgot
your schooling, and the young mistress is a
great scollard.”

“Mistress!” cried Remarkable; “don't make
one out to be a nigger, Benjamin. She's no mistress
of mine, and never will be. And as to speech,
I hold myself as second to nobody out of New-England.
I was born and raised in Essex county;
and I've always heer'n say, that the Bay State
was provarbal for pronounsation!”

“I've often heard of that Bay of State,” said
Benjamin; “but can't say that I've ever been in
it, nor do I know exactly where away it is that it
lays; but I suppose that there's good anchorage
in it, and that it's no bad place for the taking of
ling; but for size, it can't be so much as a yawl
to a sloop of war, compared with the bay of Biscay,
or mayhap, Tor-bay. And as for language,
if you want to hear dictionary overhauled, like a
log-line in a blow, you must go to Wapping, and
listen to the Lon'oners, as they deal out their
lingo. Howsomever, I see no such mighty matter
that Miss Lizzy has been doing to you, good
woman, so take another drop of your brew, and
forgive and forget, like an honest soul.”

“No, indeed! and I shan't do sitch a thing,
Benjamin. This treatment is a newity to me, and
what I won't put up with. I have a hundred and
fifty dollars at use, besides a bed and twenty
sheep, to good; and I don't crave to live in a
house where a body mus'nt call a young woman
by her given name to her face. I will call her
Betsy as much as I please; its a free country,
and nobody can stop me. I did intend to stop

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while summer, but I shall quit to-morrow morning;
and I will talk just as I please.”

“For that matter, Mistress Remarkable,” said
Benjamin, “there's none here who will contradict
you, for I'm of opinion that it would be as
easy to stop a hurricane with a Barcelony hankerchy,
as to bring up your tongue, when the
stopper is off. I say, good woman, do they grow
many monkeys along the shores of that Bay of
State?”

“You're a monkey yourself, Mr. Penguillum,”
cried the enraged housekeeper, “or a bear! a
black, beastly bear! and an't fit for a decent woman
to stay with. I'll never keep your company
agin, sir, if I should live thirty years with the
Judge. Sitch talk is more befitting the kitchen
than the keeping-room of a house of one who is
well to do in the world.”

“Look you, Mistress Pitty—Patty—Prettybones,
mayhap I'm some such matter as a bear,
d'ye see, as they will find who come to grapple
with me; but dam'me if I'm a monkey—a thing
that chatters without knowing a word of what it
says—a parrot, that will hold dialogue, for what
an honest man knows, in a dozen languages;
mayhap in the Bay of State lingo; mayhap in
Greek or High Dutch. But dost it know what it
means itself? canst answer me that, good woman?
Your Midshipman can sing out, and pass
the word, when the Captain gives the order, but
just set him adrift by himself, and let him work
the ship of his own head, and, stop my grog, if
you don't find all the Johnny-raws laughing at
him.”

“Stop your grog indeed!” said Remarkable,
rising with great indignation, and seizing a candle;
“you're groggy now, Benjamin, and I'll quit

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the room before I hear any of your misbecoming
words from you.”

The housekeeper retired, with a manner but
little less dignified, as she thought, than the air
of the stately heiress, muttering, as she drew the
door after her, with a noise like the report of a
musket, the opprobrious terms of “drunkard,”
“sot,” and “beast.”

“Who's that you say is drunk?” cried Benjamin,
fiercely, rising and making a movement towards
Remarkable. “You talk of mustering
yourself with a lady! you're just fit to grumble
and find fault. Where the devil should you larn
behaviour and dictionary? in your damned Bay
of State, ha!”

Benjamin here fell back in his chair, and soon
gave vent to certain ominous sounds, which resembled,
not a little, the growling of his favourite
animal, the bear itself. Before, however, he was
quite locked, to use the language that would suit
the Della-cruscan humour of certain refined critics
of the present day, “in the arms of Morpheus,”
he spoke aloud, observing due pauses between
his epithets, the impressive terms of “monkey,”
“parrot,” “pic-nic,” “tar pot,” and “linguisters.”

We will not attempt to explain his meaning, nor
connect his sentences, and our readers must be
satisfied with our informing them, that they were
expressed with all that coolness of contempt that
a man might well be supposed to feel for a monkey.

Nearly two hours passed in this sleep, before
the Major-domo was awakened by the noisy entrance
of Richard, Major Hartmann, and the
master of the mansion. Benjamin so far rallied
his confused faculties, as to shape the course of the
two former to their respective apartments, when

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he disappeared himself, leaving the task of securing
the house to him who was most interested in
its safety. Locks and bars were but little attended
to in the early day of that settlement; and so
soon as Marmaduke had given an eye to the enormous
fires of his dwelling, he retired. And with
this act of prudence closes the first night of our
tale.

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CHAPTER XVI.

Watch. (aside) Some treason, masters—
Yet stand close.
Much Ado about Nothing.

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It was fortunate for more than one of the bacchanalians,
who left the “Bold Dragoon” late in
the evening, that the severe cold of the season
was becoming, rapidly, less dangerous, as they
threaded the different mazes, through the snowbanks,
that led to their respective dwellings.
Thin, driving clouds began, towards morning, to
flit across the heavens, and the moon sat behind a
volume of vapour, that was impelled furiously towards
the north, carrying with it the softer atmosphere
from the distant ocean. The rising sun
was obscured by denser and increasing columns of
clouds, while the southerly wind that rushed
up the valley, brought the never failing symptoms
of a thaw.

It was quite late in the morning, before Elizabeth,
observing the faint glow which appeared on
the eastern mountain, long after the light of the
sun had struck the opposite hills, ventured from
the house, with a view to gratify her curiosity
with a glance by daylight at the surrounding objects,
before the tardy revellers of the

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Christmas-eve should make their appearance at the breakfast
table. While she was drawing the folds of
her pelisse more closely around her form, to guard
against a cold that was yet great, though rapidly
yielding, in the small enclosure that opened in
the rear of the house on a little thicket of low
pines, that were springing up where trees of a
mightier growth had lately stood, she was surprised
at the voice of Mr. Jones, crying aloud—

“Merry Christmas, merry Christmas to you,
cousin Bess. Ah, ha! an early riser, I see; but
I knew I should steal a march on you. I never
was in a house yet, where I did'nt get the first
Christmas greeting on every soul in it, man, woman
and child; great and small; black, white and
yellow. But stop a minute, till I can just slip on
my coat; you are about to look at the improvements,
I see, which no one can explain so well as
I, who planned them all. It will be an hour before
'duke and the Major can sleep off Mrs. Hollister's
confounded distillations, and so I'll come
down and go with you.”

Elizabeth turned, and observed her cousin in
his night-cap, with his head out of his bed-room
window, where his zeal for pre-eminence, in defiance
of the weather, had impelled him to thrust
it. She laughed, and promising to wait for his
company, she re-entered the house, making her
appearance again, holding in her hand a packet
that was secured by several large and important
seals, just in time to meet the gentleman.

“Come, Bessy, come,” he cried, drawing one
of her arms through his own; “the snow begins
to give, but it will bear us yet. Don't you snuff
old Pennsylvania in the very air? This is a vile
climate, girl; now at sunset last evening it was
cold enough to freeze a man's zeal, and that, I can
tell you, takes a thermometer near zero for me;

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then about nine or ten it began to moderate; at
twelve it was quite mild, and here all the rest
of the night I have been so hot as not to bear a
blanket on the bed.—Holla! Aggy,—merry
Christmas, Aggy—I say, do you hear me, you
black dog! there's a dollar for you; and if the
gentlemen get up before I come back, do you
come out and let me know. I would'nt have
'duke get the start of me for the worth of your
head.”

The black caught the money from the snow,
and promising a due degree of watchfulness, he
gave the dollar a whirl in the air of twenty feet,
and catching it as it fell, in the palm of his hand,
he withdrew to the kitchen, to exhibit his present,
with a heart as light as his face was happy in its
expression.

“Oh, rest easy, my dear coz,” said the young
lady; “I took a look in at my father, who is likely
to sleep an hour; and by using due vigilance
you will secure all the honours of the season.”

“Why, 'duke is your father, Elizabeth, but
'duke is a man who likes to be foremost, even in
trifles. Now, as for myself, I care for no such
things, except in the way of competition; for a
thing which is of no moment in itself, may be
made of importance in the way of competition.
So it is with your father, he loves to be first; but
I only struggle with him as a competitor, like.”

“Oh! it's all very clear, sir,” said Elizabeth;
“you would not care a fig for distinction, if there
were no one in the world but yourself; but as
there happen to be a great many others, why you
must struggle with them all—in the way of competition.”

“Exactly so; I see you are a clever girl, Bess,
and one who does credit to her masters. It was
my plan to send you to that school; for when

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your father first mentioned the thing, I wrote a
private letter for advice to a judicious friend in
the city, who recommended the very school you
went to. 'Duke was a little obstinate at first, as
usual, but when he heard the truth, he was obliged
to send you.”

“Well, a truce to 'duke's foibles, sir; he is my
father; and if you knew what he has been doing
for you while we were in Albany, you would deal
more tenderly with his character.”

“For me!” cried Richard, pausing a moment
in his walk to reflect. “Oh! he got the plans of
the new Dutch meeting-house for me, I suppose;
but I care very little about it, for a man, of a certain
kind of talent, is seldom aided by any such
foreign suggestions: his own brain is the best architect.”

“No such think,” said Elizabeth, looking provokingly
knowing.

“No! let me see—perhaps he had my name
put in the bill for the new turnpike, as a director?”

“He might possibly; but it is not to such an
appointment that I allude.”

“Such an appointment!” repeated Mr. Jones,
who began to fidget with curiosity; “then it is
an appointment. If it is in the militia, I won't
take it.”

“No, no, it is not in the militia,” cried Elizabeth,
showing the packet in her hand, and then
drawing it back, with a coquettish air; “it is an
office of both honour and emolument.”

“Honour and emolument!” echoed Richard, in
painful suspense; “show me the paper, girl. Say,
is it an office where there is any thing to do?

“You have hit it, cousin Dickon; it is the executive
office of the county; at least so said my father,
when he gave me this packet to offer you as

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a Christmas box—`Surely, if any thing will please
Dickon,' he said, `it will be to fill the executive
chair of the county.' ”

“Executive chair! what nonsense!” cried the
impatient gentleman, snatching the packet from
her hand; “there is no such office in the county.
Eh! what! it is, I declare, a commission, appointing
Richard Jones, Esquire, Sheriff of the
county. Well, this is kind in 'duke, positively.
I must say 'duke has a warm heart, and never forgets
his friends. Sheriff! High Sheriff of —!
It sounds well, Bess, but it shall execute better.
'Duke is a judicious man, after all, and knows
human nature thoroughly. I'm sure I'm much
obliged to him,” continued Richard, using the
skirt of his coat, unconsciously, to wipe his eyes;
“though I would do as much for him any day, as
he shall see, if I can have an opportunity to perform
any of the duties of my office on him. It
shall be well done, cousin Bess—it shall be well
done, I say.—How this cursed south wind makes
my eyes water.”

“Now, Richard,” said the laughing maiden,
“now I think you will find something to do. I
have often heard you complain of old, that there
was nothing to do in this new country, while to
my eyes, it seemed as if every thing remained to
be done.”

“Do!” echoed Richard, who blew his nose,
raised his little form to its greatest elevation, and
looked prodigiously serious. “Every thing depends
on system, my girl. I shall sit down this
afternoon, and systematize the county. I must
have deputies, you know. I will divide the county
into districts, over which I will place my deputies;
and I will have one for the village, which
I will call my home department. Let me see—
eh! Benjamin! yes, Benjamin will make a good

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deputy; he has been naturalized, and would answer
admirably, if he could only ride on horse-back.”

“Yes, Mr. Sheriff,” said his companion, “and
as he understands ropes so well, he would be very
expert, should occasion happen for his services, in
the way of Jack Ketch.”

“No,” interrupted the other, “I flatter myself
that no one could hang a man better than—that
is—ha—oh! yes, Benjamin would do extremely
well, in such an unfortunate dilemma, if he could
be persuaded to attempt it. But I should despair
of the thing. I never could induce him to hang,
or teach him to ride on horseback. I must seek
another deputy.”

“Well, sir, as you have abundant leisure for
all these important affairs, I beg that you will forget
that you are the High Sheriff, and devote
some little of your time to gallantry. Where are
the beauties and improvements which you were
to show me?”

“Where! why every where. Here I have laid
out some new streets; and when they are opened,
and the trees felled, and they are all built up,
will they not make a fine town? Well, 'duke is
a liberal-hearted fellow, with all his stubbornness.—
Yes, yes, I must have at least four deputies,
besides a jailer.”

“I see no streets in the direction of our walk,”
said Elizabeth, “unless you call the short avenues
through these pine bushes by that name.—
Surely you do not contemplate building houses,
very soon, in that forest before us, and in those
swamps.”

“We must run our streets by the compass, coz,
and disregard trees, hills, ponds, stumps, or, in
fact, any thing but posterity. Such is the will of
your father, and your father, you know—”

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“Had you made Sheriff, Mr. Jones,” interrupted
the lady, with a tone which said very plainly to
the gentleman, that he was touching a forbidden
subject.

“I know it, I know it,” cried Richard; “and
if it were in my power, I'd make 'duke a king.
He is a noble-hearted fellow, and would make an
excellent king; that is, if he had a good prime
minister.—But who have we here? voices in the
bushes;—a combination about mischief, I'll wager
my commission. Let us draw near, and examine
a little into the matter.”

During this dialogue, as the parties had kept
in motion, Richard and his cousin advanced some
distance from the house, into the open space in
the rear of the village, where, as may be gathered
from the conversation, streets were planned,
and future dwellings contemplated; but where,
in truth, the only mark of improvement that was
to be seen, was a neglected clearing along the
skirt of a dark forest of mighty pines, over which
the bushes or sprouts of the same tree had sprung
up, to a height that interspersed the fields of snow
with little thickets of evergreen. The rushing of
the wind, as it whistled through the tops of these
mimic trees, prevented the footsteps of the pair
from being heard, while their branches concealed
their persons. Thus aided, the listeners drew
nigh to a spot where the young hunter, Leather-stocking,
and the Indian chief, were collected in
an earnest consultation. The former was urgent
in his manner, and seemed to think the subject of
deep importance, while Natty appeared to listen
with more than his usual attention, to what the
other was saying. Mohegan stood a little on one
side, with his head sunken on his chest, his hair
falling forward, so as to conceal most of his

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features, and his whole attitude expressive of deep
dejection, if not of shame.

“Let us withdraw,” whispered Elizabeth; “we
are intruders, and can have no right to listen to
the secrets of these men.”

“No right!” returned Richard, a little impatiently,
in the same tone, and drawing her arm so
forcibly through his own as to prevent her retreat;
“you forget, cousin, that it is my duty to preserve
the peace of the county, and see the laws
executed. These wanderers frequently commit
depredations; though I do not think John would
do any thing secretly. Poor fellow! he was quite
boozy last night, and hardly seems to be over it
yet. Let us draw nigher, and hear what they
say.”

Notwithstanding the lady's reluctance, Richard,
stimulated doubtless by his nice sense of
duty, prevailed; and they were soon so near as
distinctly to hear sounds.

“The bird must be had,” said Natty, “by fair
means or foul. Heigho! I've known the time,
lad, when the wild turkeys wasn't over scarce in
the country; though you must go into the Virginy
gaps, if you want them for the feathers.
To be sure, there is a different taste to a partridge,
and a well-fattened turkey; though, to my
eating, beaver's tail and bear's hams makes the
best of food. But then every one has his own
appetite. I gave the last farthing, all to that
shilling, to the French trader, this very morning,
as I come through the town, for powder; so, as
you have nothing, we can have but one shot for
it. I know that Billy Kirby is out, and means to
have a pull of the trigger at that very turkey.
John has a true eye for a single fire, and somehow,
my hand shakes so, whenever I have to do
any thing extrawnary, that I often lose my aim.

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Now when I killed the she-bear this fall, with her
cubs, though they were so mighty ravenous, I
knocked them over one at a shot, and loaded
while I dodged the trees in the bargain; but this
is a very different thing, Mr. Oliver.”

“This,” cried the young man, with an accent
that sounded as if he took a bitter pleasure in his
poverty, while he held a shilling up before his
eyes—“this is all the treasure that I possess—
this and my rifle! Now, indeed, I have become
a man of the woods, and must place my sole dependence
on the fruits of the chase. Come, Natty,
let us stake the last penny for the bird; with
your aim, it cannot fail to be successful.”

“I would rather it should be John, lad; my
heart jumps into my mouth, because you set your
mind so much on't; and I'm sartain that I shall
miss the bird. Them Indians can shoot one time
as well as another; nothing ever troubles them.
I say John, here's a shilling; take my rifle, and
get a shot at the big turkey they've put up at the
stump. Mr. Oliver is over anxious for the creater,
and I'm sure to do nothing when I have over
anxiety about it.”

The Indian turned his head gloomily, and after
looking keenly for a moment, in profound silence,
at his companions, he replied—

“When John was young, eyesight was not
straighter than his bullet. The Mingo squaws
cried out at the sound of his rifle. The Mingo
warriors were made squaws. When did he ever
shoot twice! The eagle went above the clouds,
when he passed the wigwam of Chingachgook;
his feathers were plenty with the women.—
But see,” he said, raising his voice from the low,
mournful tones in which he had spoken, to a pitch
of keen excitement, and stretching forth both
hands—“they shake like a deer at the wolf's howl.

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Is John old? When was a Mohican a squaw,
with seventy winters! No! the white man brings
old age with him—rum is his tomahawk!”

“Why then do you use it, old man?” exclaimed
the young hunter; “why will one so noble
by nature, aid the devices of the devil, by making
himself a beast?”

“Beast! is John a beast?” repeated the Indian,
slowly; “yes; you say no lie, child of the
Fire-eater! John is a beast. The smokes were
once few in these hills. The deer would lick the
hand of a white man, and the birds rest on his
head. They were strangers to him. My fathers
came from the shores of the salt lake. They fled
before rum. They came to their grandfather, and
they lived in peace; or when they did raise the
hatchet, it was to strike it into the brain of a
Mingo. They gathered around the council-fire,
and what they said was done. Then John was a
man. But warriors and traders with light eyes
followed them. One brought the long knife, and
one brought rum. They were more than the
pines on the mountains; and they broke up the
councils, and took the lands. The evil spirit was
in their jugs, and they let him loose.—Yes, yes—
you say no lie, Young Eagle, John is a beast.”

“Forgive me, old warrior,” cried the youth,
grasping his hand; “I should be the last to reproach
you. The curses of Heaven light on the
cupidity that has destroyed such a race. Remember,
John, that I am of your family, and it is now
my greatest pride.”

The muscles of Mohegan relaxed a little, and
he said more mildly—

“You are a Delaware, my son; your words
are not heard.—John cannot shoot.”

“I thought that lad had Indian blood in him,”
whispered Richard, “by the awkward way he

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handled my horses, last night. You see, coz,
they never use harness. But the poor fellow
shall have two shots at the turkey, if he wants it,
for I'll give him another shilling myself; though,
perhaps, I had better offer to shoot for him. They
have got up their Christmas sports, I find, in the
bushes yonder, where you hear the laughter;—
though it is a queer taste this chap has for turkey;
not but what it is good eating too.”

“Hold, cousin Richard,” exclaimed Elizabeth,
clinging to his arm, “would it be delicate to offer
a shilling to that gentleman?”

“Gentleman again! do you think a half-breed,
like him, will refuse money? No, no, girl; he
will take the shilling; ay! and even rum too,
notwithstanding he moralizes so much about it.—
But I'll give the lad a chance for his turkey, for
that Billy Kirby is one of the best marksmen in
the country; that is, if we except the—the gentleman.”

“Then,” said Elizabeth, who found her strength
unequal to her will; “then, sir, I will speak.”—
She advanced, with an air of proud determination,
in front of her cousin, and entered the little
circle of bushes that surrounded the trio of hunters.
Her appearance startled the youth, who at
first made an unequivocal motion towards retiring,
but, recollecting himself, bowed, by lifting his
cap, and resumed his attitude of leaning on his
rifle. Neither Natty nor Mohegan betrayed any
emotion, though the appearance of Elizabeth was
so entirely unexpected.

“I find,” she said, “that the old Christmas
sport of shooting the turkey is yet in use among
you. I feel inclined to try my chance for a bird.
Which of you will take this money, and, after
paying my fee, give me the aid of his rifle?”

“Is this a sport for a lady!” exclaimed the

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young hunter, with an emphasis that could not
well be mistaken, and with a rapidity that showed
he spoke without consulting any thing but
feeling.

“Why not, sir?” returned the maiden. “If
it be inhuman, the sin is not confined to one sex
only. But I have my humour as well as others.
I ask not your assistance, sir; but”—turning to
Natty, and dropping a dollar in his hand—“this
old veteran of the forest will not be so ungallant,
as to refuse one fire for a lady.”

Leather-stocking dropped the money into his
pouch, and throwing up the end of his rifle, he
freshened his priming; and, first laughing in his
usual manner, he threw the piece over his shoulder,
and said—

“If Billy Kirby don't get the bird before me,
and the Frenchman's powder don't hang fire this
damp morning, you'll see as fine a turkey dead,
in a few minutes, as ever was eaten in the Judge's
shanty. I have know'd the Dutch women on the
Mohawk and Scoharie count greatly on coming to
them merry-makings; and so, lad, you shouldn't
be short with the lady. Come, let us go forward,
for if we wait, the finest bird will be gone.”

“But I have a right before you, Natty, and
shall try my own luck first. You will excuse
me, Miss Temple; I have much reason to wish
that bird, and may seem ungallant, but I must
claim my privileges.”

“Claim any thing that is justly your own, sir,”
returned the lady; “we are both adventurers,
and this is my knight. I trust my fortune to his
hand and eye. Lead on, Sir Leather-stocking,
and we will follow.”

Natty, who seemed pleased with the frank address
of the young and beauteous maiden, who
had so singularly intrusted him with such a

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commission, returned the bright smile with which she
had addressed him, by his own peculiar mark of
mirth, and moved across the snow, towards the
spot whence the sounds of boisterous mirth proceeded
with the long strides of a hunter. His
companions followed in silence, the youth casting
frequent and uneasy glances towards Elizabeth,
who was detained by a motion from Richard.

“I should think, Miss Temple,” he said, so
soon as the others were out of hearing, “that if
you really wished a turkey, you would not have
taken a stranger for the office, and such a one as
Leather-stocking. But I can hardly believe that
you are serious, for I have fifty at this moment
shut up in the coops, in every stage of fat, so
that you might choose any quality you pleased.
There are six that I am trying an experiment on,
by giving them brick-bats with—”

“Enough, cousin Dickon,” interrupted the lady;
“I do wish the bird, and it is because I so
wish, that I commissioned this Mr. Leather-stocking.”

“Did you ever hear of the great shot that I
made at the wolf, cousin Elizabeth, who was carrying
off your father's sheep?” said Richard,
drawing himself up into an air of displeasure.—
“He had the sheep on his back; and had the
head of the wolf been on the other side, I should
have killed him dead; as it was—”

“You killed the sheep,” again interrupted the
young lady—“I know it all, my dear coz. But
would it have been decorous, for the High Sheriff
of—to mingle in such sports as these?”

“Surely you did not think I intended actually
to fire with my own hands?” said Mr. Jones.—
“But let us follow, and see the shooting. There
is no fear of any thing unpleasant occuring to any

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female, in this new country, especially to your
father's daughter, and in my presence.”

“My father's daughter fears nothing, sir,” returned
Elizabeth; more especially, when escorted
by the highest executive officer in the county.”

She took his arm, and he led her through the
mazes of the bushes, to the spot where most of
the young men of the village were collected for
the sports of shooting a Christmas match, and
whither Natty and his companions had already
preceded them.

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CHAPTER XVII.

“I guess, by all this quaint array,
“The burghers hold their sports to day.”
Scott.

[figure description] Page 237.[end figure description]

The ancient amusement of shooting the Christmas
turkey, is one of the few sports that the settlers
of a new country seldom or never neglect to
observe. It was connected with the daily practices
of a people, who often laid aside the axe or
the sithe, to seize the rifle, as the deer glided
through the forests they were felling, or the bear
entered their rough meadows, to scent the air of a
clearing, and to scan, with a look of sagacity, the
progress of the invader.

On the present occasion, the usual amusement
of the day had been a little hastened, in order to
allow a fair opportunity to Mr. Grant, whose exhibition
was not less a treat to the young sportsmen,
than the one which engaged their present
attention. The owner of the birds was a free
black, who had been preparing for the occasion a
collection of game, that was admirably qualified
to inflame the appetite of an epicure, and was
well adapted to the means and skill of the different
competitors, who were of all ages. He had
offered to the younger and more humble

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marksmen divers birds of an inferior quality, and some
shooting had already taken place, much to the pecuniary
advantage of the sable owner of the game.
The order of the sports was extremely simple, and
well understood. The bird was fastened by a
string of tow, to the base of the stump of a large
pine, the side of which, towards the point where
the marksmen were placed, had been flattened
with an axe, in order that it might serve the purpose
of a target, by which the merit of each individual
might be ascertained. The distance between
the stump and this point was one hundred
measured yards; a foot more or a foot less being
thought an invasion of the right of one of the parties.
The negro affixed his own price to every
bird, and the terms of the chance; but when these
were once established, he was obliged, by the
strict principles of public justice that prevailed
in the country, to admit any adventurer who
might offer.

The throng consisted of some twenty or thirty
young men, most of whom had rifles, and a collection
of all the boys in the village. The little
urchins, clad in coarse but warm garments, stood
gathered around the more distinguished marksmen,
with their hands stuck under their waistbands,
listening eagerly to the boastful stories of
skill that had been exhibited on former occasions,
and were already emulating in their hearts these
wonderful deeds in gunnery.

The chief speaker was the man who had been
mentioned by Natty, as Billy Kirby. This fellow,
whose occupation, when he did labour, was
that of clearing lands, or chopping jobs, was of
great stature, and carried, in his very air, the index
of his character. He was a noisy, boisterous,
reckless lad, whose good-natured eye contradicted
the bluntness and bullying tenor of his speech.

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For weeks he would lounge around the taverns of
the country, in a state of perfect idleness, or doing
small jobs for his liquor and his meals, and cavilling
with applicants about the prices of his labour;
frequently preferring idleness to an abatement of
a tittle of his independence, or a cent in his wages.
But when these embarrassing points were
once satisfactorily arranged, he would shoulder
his axe and his rifle, slip his arms through the
straps of his pack, and enter the woods with the
tread of a Hercules. His first object was to
learn his limits, round which he would pace, occasionally
freshening, with a blow of his axe, the
marks on the boundary trees; and then he would
proceed, with an air of great deliberation, to the
centre of his premises, and throwing aside his superfluous
garments, he would measure, with a
knowing eye, one or two of the nearest trees, that
were towering apparently into the very clouds, as
he gazed upward. Commonly selecting one of
the most noble, for the first trial of his power, he
would approach it with a listless air, whistling a
low tune; and wielding his axe, with a certain
flourish not unlike the salutes of a fencing-master,
he would strike a light blow into the bark, and
measure his distance. The pause that followed
was ominous of the fall of the forest, that had
flourished there for centuries. The heavy and
brisk blows that he struck, were soon succeeded
by the thundering report of the tree, as it came,
first cracking and threatening, with the separation
of its own last ligaments; then thrashing and
tearing with its branches the tops of its surrounding
brethren, and finally meeting the ground, with
a shock but little inferior to an earthquake. From
that moment, the sounds of the axe would be
ceaseless, while the falling of the trees was like a
distant cannonading; and the daylight broke

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into the depths of the woods, with almost the suddenness
of a winter morning.

For days, weeks, nay months, Billy Kirby
would toil, with an ardour that evinced his native
spirit, and with an effect that seemed magical;
until, his chopping being ended, his stentorian
lungs could be heard, emitting sounds, as he called
to his patient oxen, the assistants in his labour,
which rung through the hills like the cries of an
alarm. He had been often heard, on a mild summer's
evening, a long mile across the vale of Templeton;
when the echoes from the mountains
would take up his cries, until they died away in
feeble sounds, from the distant rocks that overhung
the lake. His piles, or, to use the language
of the country, his logging, ended with a despatch
that could only accompany his dexterity and Herculean
strength, the jobber would collect together
his implements of labour, light the heaps of timber,
and march away, under the blaze of the prostrate
forest, like the conqueror of some city, who,
having first prevailed over his adversary, places
the final torch of destruction, as the finishing blow
to his conquest. For a long time Billy Kirby
would then be seen, sauntering around the taverns,
the rider of scrub-races, the bully of cock-fights,
and, not unfrequently, the hero of such sports as
the one in hand.

Between him and the Leather-stocking there
had long existed a jealous rivalry, on the point of
their respective skill in shooting. Notwithstanding
the long practice of Natty, it was commonly
supposed that the steady nerves and quick eye of
the wood-chopper, rendered him his equal. Their
competition had, however, been confined, hitherto,
to boastings, and comparisons made from their
successes in their various hunting excursions; but
this was the first time that they had ever come in

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upon collision. A good deal of higgling, about
the price of a shot at the choicest bird, had taken
place between Billy Kirby and its owner, before
Natty and his companions rejoined the sportsmen.
It had, however, been settled at one shilling
a shot, which was the highest sum ever exacted,
the black taking care to protect himself
from losses, as much as possible, by the conditions
of the sport. The turkey was already fastened at
the “mark,” but its body was entirely hid by
the surrounding snow, nothing being visible but
its red, swelling head, and long, proud neck. If
the bird was injured by any bullet that struck below
the snow, it was still to continue the property
of its present owner; but if a feather was touched
in the visible part, the animal became the prize of
the successful adventurer.

These terms were loudly proclaimed from the
mouth of the negro, who was seated in the snow,
in a somewhat hazardous vicinity to his favourite
bird, as Elizabeth, and her cousin, the newly appointed
executive chief of the county, approached
the noisy sportsmen. The sounds of mirth and
contention sensibly lowered at this unexpected visit,
but after a moment's pause, the curious interest
exhibited in the face of the young lady, together
with her smiling air, restored the freedom
of the morning; though it was somewhat chastened,
both in language and vehemence, by the presence
of such a spectator to their proceedings.

“Stand out of the way there, boys!” cried the
wood-chopper, who was placing himself at the
shooting-point—“stand out of the way, you little
rascals, or I will shoot through you. Now, Brom,
you may say good-by to that turkey.”

“Stop!” cried the young hunter; “I am a
candidate for a chance too. Here is my shilling,
Brom; I wish a shot too.”

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“You may wish it in welcome,” cried Kirby;
“but if I ruffle the gobbler's feathers, how are
you to get it? is money so plenty in your deer-skin
pocket, that you pay it for a chance that you
may never have?”

“How know you, sir, how plenty money is in
my pocket?” said the youth, fiercely. “Here is
my shilling, Brom, and I claim a right to shoot.”

“Don't be crabbed, my boy,” said the other,
who was very coolly fixing his flint. “They say
you have a hole in your left shoulder, yourself;
so I think Brom may give you a fire for half-price.
It will take a keen one to hit that bird, I can tell
you, my lad, even if I give you a chance, which
is a thing I have no mind to do.”

“Don't be boasting, Billy Kirby,” said Natty,
throwing the breech of his rifle into the snow, and
leaning on its barrel; you'll get but one shot at
the creater, for if the lad misses his aim, which
wouldn't be a wonder if he did, with his arm so
stiff and sore, you'll find a good piece and an old
eye comin a'ter you. Maybe its true, that I can't
shoot as I used to could, but a hundred yards is
but a short distance for a long rifle.”

“What, old Leather-stocking, are you out this
morning?” cried his reckless opponent. “Well,
fair play's a jewel. But I've the lead of you, old
fellow; and so here goes, for a dry throat or a
good dinner.”

The countenance of the negro evinced not only
all the interest which his pecuniary adventure
might occasion, but also the keen excitement that
the sport produced in the others, though with a
very different wish as to the result. While the
wood-chopper was slowly and steadily raising his
rifle, he exclaimed—

“Fair play, Billy Kirby—stand back—make
'em stand back, boys—gib a nigger fair play—

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[figure description] Page 243.[end figure description]

poss-up, gobbler; shake a head, fool; don't a see
'em pokin gun at 'em?”

These cries, which were intended as much to
distract the attention of the marksman, as for any
thing else, where, however, fruitless. The nerves
of the wood-chopper were not so easily shaken,
and he took his aim with the utmost deliberation.
The dead stillness of expectation prevailed for a
moment, and he fired. The head of the turkey
was seen to dash on one side, and its wings were
spread in momentary fluttering; but it settled itself
down, calmly, into its bed of snow, and glanced
its eyes uneasily around. For a time long
enough to draw a deep breath, not a sound was
heard. The silence was then broken, by the
noise of the negro, who laughed, and shook his
body, with all kinds of antics, rolling over in the
snow with the excess of his delight.

“Well done a gobbler,” he cried, jumping up,
and affecting to embrace his bird; “I tell 'em to
poss-up, and you see 'em dodge. Gib anoder
shillin, Billy, and hab anoder shot.”

“No—the shot is mine,” said the young hunter;
“you have my money already. Leave the mark,
and let me try my luck.”

“Ah! it's but money thrown away, lad,” said
Leather-stocking. “A turkey's head and neck
is but a small mark for a new hand and a lame
shoulder. You'd best let me take the fire, and
maybe we can make some sittlement with the lady
about the bird.”

“The chance is mine,” said the young hunter.
“Clear the ground, that I may take it.”

The discussions and disputes concerning the
last shot were now abating, it having been determined,
that if the turkey's head had been any
where but just where it was at the moment, the
bird must certainly have been killed. There was

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not much excitement produced by the preparations
of the youth, who proceeded in a hurried
manner to take his aim, and was in the act
of pulling the trigger, when he was stopped by
Natty.

“Your hand shakes, lad,” he said, “and you
seem over eager. Bullet wownds are apt to
weaken the flesh, and, to my judgment, you'll not
shoot so well as in common. If you will fire, you
should shoot quick, before there is time to shake
off the aim.”

“Fair play,” again shouted the negro; “fair
play—gib a nigger fair play. What right a Nat-Bumppo
tell a young man? Let 'em shoot—
clear a ground.”

The youth fired with great rapidity; but no
motion was made by the turkey; and when the
examiners for the ball returned from the “mark,”
they declared that he had missed the stump.

Elizabeth observed the change in his countenance,
and could not help feeling surprise, that
one so evidently superior to his companions,
should feel a trifling loss so sensibly. But her
own champion was now preparing to enter the
lists.

The mirth of Brom, which had been again excited,
though in a much smaller degree than before,
by the failure of the second adventurer, vanished,
the instant that Natty took his stand. His
skin became mottled with large brown spots, that
sullied the lustre of his native ebony most fearfully,
while his enormous lips gradually compressed
around the two rows of ivory, that had hitherto
been shining in his visage, like pearls set in jet.
His nostrils, at all times the most conspicuous
features of his face, dilated, until they covered
the greater part of the diameter of his countenance;
while his brown and bony hands

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[figure description] Page 245.[end figure description]

unconsciously grasped the snow-crust near him, the excitement
of the moment completely overcoming
his native dread of cold.

While these indications of apprehension were
exhibited in the sable owner of the turkey, the
man who gave rise to this extraordinary emotion
was as calm and collected, as if there was not to
be a single spectator of his skill.

“I was down in the Dutch settlements on the
Scoharie,” said Natty, carefully removing the
leather guard from the lock of his rifle, “jist before
the breaking out of the last war, and there
was a shooting-match amongst the boys; so I took
a hand in it myself. I think I opened a good
many Dutch eyes that very day, for I won the
powder-horn, three bars of lead, and a pound of
as good powder as ever flashed in the pan of a
gun. Lord! how they did swear in Garman!
They did tell of one drunken Dutchman, who
said he'd have the life of me, before I got back to
the lake ag'in. But if he had put his rifle to his
shoulder, with evil intent, God would have punished
him for it; and even if the Lord didn't, and
he had missed his aim, I know one that would
have given him as good as he sent, and better too,
if good shooting could come into the 'count.”

By this time the old hunter was ready for his
business, and, throwing his right leg far behind
him, and stretching his left arm along the barrel
of his piece, he raised towards the bird. Every
eye glanced rapidly from the marksman to the
mark; but at the moment when each ear was expecting
the report of the rifle, they were disappointed
by the ticking sound of the flint only.

“A snap—a snap,” shouted the negro, springing
from his crouching posture, like a madman,
before his bird. “A snap as good as a fire—

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Natty Bumppo gun he snap—Natty Bumppo miss a
turkey.”

“Natty Bumppo hit a nigger,” said the indignant
old hunter, “if you don't get out of the way,
Brom. It's contrary to the reason of the thing,
boy, that a snap should count for a fire, when one
is nothing more than a fire-stone striking a steel
pan, and the other is good lead, ay! and with a
good aim; so get out of my way, boy, and let
me show Billy Kirby how to shoot a Christmas
turkey.”

“Gib a nigger fair play!” cried the black, who
continued resolutely to maintain his post. “Ebbery
body know dat snap as good as fire. Leab
it to Massa Jone—leab it to lady.”

“Sartain,” said the wood-chopper; “it's the
law of the game in this part of the country, Leather-stocking.
If you fire ag'in, you must pay
up the other shilling. I b'lieve I'll try luck once
more myself; so, Brom, here's my money, and
I take the next fire.”

“It's likely you know the laws of the woods
better than I do, Billy Kirby!” returned Natty.
“You come in with the settlers, with an ox goad
in your hand, and I come in with moccasins on
my feet, and with a good rifle on my shoulder, so
long back as afore the old war; which is likely to
know the best? I say, no man need tell me that
snapping is as good as firing, when I pull the
trigger.”

“Leab it to Massa Jone,” said the alarmed
negro; “he know ebbery ting.”

This appeal to the knowledge of Richard was
too flattering to be unheeded. He therefore advanced
a little from the spot whither the delicacy
of Elizabeth had induced her to withdraw, and
gave the following opinion, with all the gravity
that the subject and his own rank demanded:—

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“There seems to be a difference in opinion,”
he said, “on the subject of Nathaniel Bumppo's
right to shoot at Abraham Freeborn's turkey,
without the said Nathaniel paying one shilling for
the privilege.” This fact was too self-evident to
be denied, and after pausing a moment, that the
audience might digest his premises, Richard proceeded:—
“It seems proper that I should decide
this question, as I am bound to preserve the peace
of the county; and men with deadly weapons in
their hands, should not be heedlessly left to contention,
and their own malignant passions. It appears
that there was no agreement, either in writing
or in words, on the disputed point; therefore
we must reason from analogy, which is, as it
were, comparing one thing with another. Now,
in duels, where both parties shoot, it is generally
the rule that a snap is a fire; and if such is the
rule, where the party has a right to fire back
again, it seems to me unreasonable, to say that a
man may stand snapping at that turkey all day.
I therefore am of opinion, that Nathaniel Bumppo
has lost his chance, and must pay another shilling
before he renews his right.”

As this opinion came from such a high quarter,
and was delivered with so much effect, it silenced
all murmurs, for the whole of the spectators had
begun to take sides with great warmth, except
from the Leather-stocking himself.

“I think Miss Elizabeth's thoughts should be
taken,” said Natty. “I've known the squaws
give very good counsel, when the Indians have
been dumb-foundered in their notions. If she
says that I ought to lose, I agree to give it up.”

“Then I adjudge you to be a loser, for this
time,” said Miss Temple; “but pay your money,
and renew your chance; unless Brom will sell me

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the bird for a dollar. I will give him the money,
and save the life of the poor victim”

This proposition was evidently but little relished
by any of the listeners, even the negro feeling
unwilling to lose the sport, though he lost his turkey.
In the mean while, as Billy Kirby was preparing
himself for another shot, Natty left the
goal, with an extremely dissatisfied manner, muttering
to himself, and speaking aloud—

“There hasn't been such a thing as a good flint
sold at the foot of the lake, since the time when
the Indian traders used to come into the country;—
and if a body should go into the flats along the
streams in the hills, to hunt for such a thing, it's
ten to one but they be all covered up with the
plough. Heigho! it seems to me, that just as the
game grows scarce, and a body wants the best of
ammunition, to get a livelihood, every thing that's
bad falls on him, like a judgment. But I'll change
the stone, for Billy Kirby hasn't the eye for such
a mark, I know.”

The wood-chopper seemed now entirely sensible
that his reputation in a great manner depended
on his care; nor did he neglect any means to
ensure his success. He drew up his rifle, and renewed
his aim, again and again, still appearing
reluctant to fire. No sound was heard from even
Brom, during these portentous movements, until
Kirby discharged his piece, with the same want
of success as before. Then, indeed, the shouts of
the negro rung through the bushes, and sounded
among the trees of the neighbouring forest, like
the outcries of a tribe of Indians. He laughed,
rolling his head, first on one side, then on the
other, until nature seemed exhausted with mirth.
He danced, until his legs were wearied with motion,
in the snow; and, in short, he exhibited all

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that violence of joy that characterizes the mirth
of a thoughtless negro.

The wood-chopper had exerted all his art, and
felt a proportionate degree of disappointment at
his failure. He first examined the bird with the
utmost attention, and more than once suggested
that he had touched its feathers; but the voice of
the multitude was against him, for it felt disposed
to listen to the often repeated cries of the black,
to “gib a nigger fair play.”

Finding it impossible to make out a title to
the bird, Kirby turned fiercely to the black, and
said—

“Shut your oven, you crow! Where is the
man that can hit a turkey's head at a hundred
yards? I was a fool for trying. You needn't
make an uproar, like a falling pine tree, about it.
Show me the man who can do it.”

“Look this a-way, Billy Kirby,” said Leather-stocking,
“and let them clear the mark, and I'll
show you a man who's made better shots afore
now, and that when he's been hard pressed by the
savages and wild beasts.”

“Perhaps there is one whose rights come before
ours, Leather-stocking.” said Miss Temple;
“if so, we will waive our privilege.”

“If it be me that you have reference to, madam,”
said the young hunter, “I shell decline
another chance. My shoulder is yet weak, I find.”

Elizabeth regarded his proud, but forced manner,
and even thought that she could discern a
tinge on his cheek, that spoke the shame of conscious
poverty. She said no more, but suffered
her own champion to make a trial.

Although Natty Bumppo had certainly made
hundreds of more momentous shots, at his enemies
or his game, yet he never exerted himself
more to excel. He raised his piece three several

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[figure description] Page 250.[end figure description]

times; once to get his range; once to calculate
his distance; and once because the bird, alarmed
by the death like stillness that prevailed, turned
its head quickly, to examine its foes. But the
fourth time he fired. The smoke, the report, and
the momentary shock, prevented most of the spectators
from instantly knowing the result; but
Elizabeth, when she saw her champion drop the
end of his rifle in the snow, and open his mouth
in one of its silent laughs, and then proceed, very
coolly, to re-charge his piece, knew that he had
been successful. The boys rushed to the mark,
and lifted the turkey on high, lifeless, and with
nothing but the remnant of a head.

“Bring in the creater,” said Leather-stocking,
“and put it at the feet of the lady. I was her
deputy in the matter, and the bird is her property.”

“And a good deputy you have proved yourself,”
returned Elizabeth—“so good, cousin Richard,
that I would advise you to remember his
qualities.” She paused, and the gayety that
beamed on her face gave place to a more serious
earnestness. She even blushed a little, as she
turned to the young hunter, and, with the insinuating
charm of a woman's best manner, added—
“But it was only to see an exhibition of the
far-famed skill of Leather-stocking, that I tried
my fortunes. Will you, sir, accept the bird, as a
small peace-offering, for the hurt that prevented
your own success?”

The expression with which the youth received
this present was indescribable. He appeared to
yield to the exquisite blandishment of her air, in
opposition to a strong inward impulse to the contrary.
He bowed, and raised the victim silently
from her feet, but continued silent.

Elizabeth handed the black a piece of silver as

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a remuneration for his loss, which had some effect
in again unbending his muscles, and then expressed
to her companion her readiness to return homeward.

“Wait a minute, cousin Bess,” cried Richard;
“there is an uncertainty about the rules of this
sport, that it is proper I should remove. If
you will appoint a committee, gentlemen, to wait
on me this morning, I will draw up, in writing, a
set of regulations—” He stopped, with some
indignation, to see who it was that so familiarly
laid his hand on the shoulder of the High Sheriff
of —.

“A merry Christmas to you, cousin Dickon,”
said Judge Temple, who had approached the party
unperceived: “I must have a vigilant eye to
my daughter, sir, if you are to be seized daily with
these gallant fits. I admire the taste, which would
introduce a lady to such scenes!”

“It is her own perversity, 'duke,” cried the disappointed
Sheriff, who felt the loss of the first salutation
as grievously as many a man would a
much greater misfortune; and I must say that
she comes honestly by it. I led her out to show
her the improvements, but away she scampered,
through the snow, at the first sound of the fire-arms,
the same as if she had been brought up in a
camp, instead of a first-rate boarding-school. I
do think, Judge Temple, that such dangerous
amusements should be suppressed by law; nay, I
doubt whether they are not already indictable at
common law.”

“Well, sir, as you are Sheriff of the county, it
becomes your duty to examine into the matter,”
returned the smiling Marmaduke. “I perceive
that Bess has executed her commission, and I
hope it met with a favourable reception.”

Richard glanced his eye at the packet, which

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he held in his hand, and the slight anger produced
by his disappointment vanished instantly.

“Ah! 'duke, my dear cousin,” he said, “step
a little on one side; I have something I would say
to you.” Marmaduke complied, and the Sheriff
led him to a little distance in the bushes, and continued—
“First, 'duke, let me thank you for your
friendly interest with the Council and the Governor,
without which, I am confident that the greatest
merit would avail but little. But we are sisters'
children—we are sisters' children; and you
may use me like one of your horses; ride me or
drive me, 'duke, I am wholly yours. But in my
humble opinion, this young companion of Leather-stocking
requires looking after. He has a
very dangerous propensity for turkey.”

“Leave him to my management, Dickon,” said
the Judge, gravely, “and I will cure his appetite
by indulgence. It is with him that I would speak.
Let us rejoin the sportsmen.”

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CHAPTER XVIII.

Poor wretch! the mother that him bare,
If she had been in presence there,
In his wan face, and sun-burnt hair,
She had not known her child.
Scott.

[figure description] Page 253.[end figure description]

It diminished, in no degree, the effect produced
by the conversation which passed between
Judge Temple and the young hunter, that the
former took the arm of his daughter, and drew
it through his own, when he advanced from the
spot whither Richard had led him, to where the
youth was standing, in a musing attitude, leaning
on his rifle, and apparently contemplating the
dead bird that lay at his feet. The presence of
Marmaduke did not interrupt the sports, which
were resumed, by loud and clamorous disputes
concerning the conditions of a chance, that involved
the life of a bird of much inferior quality to the
last. Leather-stocking and Mohegan had alone
drawn aside to the place where stood their youthful
companion; and, although in the immediate
vicinity of such a throng, the following conversation
was heard only by those who were interested
in it.

“I have greatly injured you, Mr. Edwards,”
said the Judge; but the sudden and inexplicable
start with which the person spoken to received

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this unexpected address, caused him to pause a
moment in manifest surprise, also. As no answer
was given, and the strong emotion exhibited in
the countenance of the youth gradually passed
away, he continued—“But, fortunately, it is in
some measure in my power to compensate you for
what I have done. My kinsman, Richard Jones,
has received an appointment that will, in future,
deprive me of his assistance, and leaves me, just
now, destitute of one who might greatly aid me
with his pen. Your manner, notwithstanding appearances,
is a sufficient proof of your education,
nor will thy shoulder suffer thee to labour, for
some time to come. My doors are open to thee,
my young friend, for in this infant country we harbour
no suspicions; little offering to tempt the
cupidity of the evil disposed. Become my assistant,
for at least a season, and receive such compensation
as thy services will deserve.”

There was nothing in the manner or the offer
of the Judge to justify the reluctance, amounting
nearly to loathing, with which the youth listened
to his speech; but after a powerful effort, as if for
self-command, he replied—

“I would serve you, sir, or any other man, for
an honest support, for I do not affect to conceal
that my necessities are very great, even beyond
what appearances would indicate; but I am fearful
that such new duties would interfere too much
with more important business; so that I must decline
your offer, and depend on my rifle, as before,
for my subsistence.”

Richard here took occasion to whisper to the
young lady, who had shrunk a little from the foreground
of the picture—

“This, you see, cousin Bess, is the natural reluctance
of a half-breed to leave the savage state.

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Their attachment to a wandering life is, I verily
believe, unconquerable.”

“It is a precarious life,” observed Marmaduke,
without hearing the Sheriff's observation, “and
one that brings more evils with it than present
suffering. Trust me, my young friend, my experience
is greater than thine, when I tell thee, that
the unsettled life of these hunters is of vast disadvantage
for temporal purposes, and it totally
removes one from within the influence of more
sacred things.”

“No, no, Judge,” interrupted the Leather-stocking;
who was hitherto unseen, or disregarded;
“take him into your shanty in welcome, but
tell him the raal thing. I have lived in the woods
for forty long years, and have spent five years at
a time without seeing the light of a clearing, bigger
than a wind-row in the trees; and I should like
to know where you'll find a man, in his sixty-eighth
year, who can get an easier living, for all
your betterments, and your deer-laws; and, as
for honesty, or doing what's right between man
and man, I'll not turn my back to the longest
winded deacon on your Patent.”

“Thou art an exception, Leather-stocking,”
returned the Judge, nodding good-naturedly at the
hunter; “for thou hast a temperance unusual in
thy class, and a hardihood exceeding thy years.
But this youth is made of materials too precious
to be wasted in the forest. I entreat thee to join
my family, if it be but till thy arm be healed. My
daughter here, who is mistress of my dwelling,
will tell thee that thou art welcome.”

“Certainly,” said Elizabeth, whose earnestness
was strongly checked by the assumption of a woman's
dignity. “The unfortunate would be welcome
at any time, but doubly so, when we feel
that we have occasioned the evil ourselves.”

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“Yes,” said Richard, “and if you relish turkey,
young man, there are plenty in the coops,
and those of the best kind, I can assure you.”

Finding himself thus ably seconded, Marmaduke
pushed his advantage to the utmost. He entered
into a detail of the duties that would attend
the situation, and circumstantially mentioned the
reward, and all those points which are deemed of
importance among men of business. The youth
listened in extreme agitation. There was an evident
contest in his feelings; at times he appeared
to wish eagerly for the change, and then again,
the incomprehensible expression of disgust would
cross his handsome features, like a dark cloud obscuring
a noon-day sun.

The Indian, in whose manner the depression of
self-abasement was most powerfully exhibited, listened
to the offers of the Judge, with an interest
that increased with each syllable. Gradually he
drew nigher to the group; and when, with his
keen glance, he detected the most marked evidence
of yielding in the countenance of his young
companion, he changed at once from his attitude
and look of shame, to the fearless and proud
front of an Indian warrior, and moving, with
great dignity, closer to the parties, he spoke in
his turn.

“Listen to your Father,” he said, “for his
words are old. Let the Young Eagle and the
Great Land Chief eat together; let them sleep,
without fear, near to each other. The children
of Miquon love not blood; they are just, and
will do right. The sun must rise and set often,
before men can make one family; it is not the
work of a day, but of many winters. The Mingoes
and the Delawares are born enemies; their
blood can never mix in the wigwam; it never
will run in the same stream in the battle. What

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makes the brother of Miquon and the Young
Eagle foes? they are of the same tribe; their fathers
and mothers are one. Learn to wait, my
son: you have Delaware blood, and an Indian
warrior knows how to be patient.”

This figurative address seemed to have great
weight with the young man, who gradually yielded
to the representations of Marmaduke, and
eventually consented to his proposal. It was,
however to be an experiment only; and if either
of the parties thought fit to rescind the engagement,
it was left at his option so to do. The remarkable
and ill-concealed reluctance of the youth,
to accept of an offer, which most men in his situation
would consider as an unhoped for elevation,
occasioned no little surprise in those of the spectators
to whom he was a stranger; and it left a
slight impression to his disadvantage. When the
parties separated, they very naturally made the
subject the topic of a conversation, which we
shall relate; first commencing with the Judge, his
daughter, and Richard, who were slowly pursuing
the way back to the Mansion-house.

“I have surely endeavoured to remember the
holy mandates of our Redeemer, when he bids us
to `love them who despitefully use you,' in my
intercourse with this incomprehensible boy,” said
Marmaduke. “I know not what there is in my
dwelling, to frighten a lad of his years, unless it
may be thy presence and visage, Bess.”

“No, no,” said Richard, with great simplicity
in his manner; “it is not cousin Bess. But when
did you ever know a half-breed, 'duke, who could
bear civilization? for that matter, they are worse
than the savages themselves. Did you notice how
knock-kneed he stood, Elizabeth, and what a wild
look he had in his eyes?”

“I heeded not his eyes, sir, returned the

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maiden, “nor his knees, which would be all the better
for a little humbling. Really, my dear sir, I
think you did exercise the christian virtue of patience
to the utmost. I was disgusted with his
airs, long before he consented to make one in our
family. Truly, we are much honoured by the
association! In what apartment is he to be placed,
sir; and at what table is he to receive his
nectar and ambrosia?”

“With Benjamin and Remarkable,” interrupted
Mr. Jones; “you surely would not make the youth
eat with the blacks! He is part Indian, it is true,
but the natives hold the negroes in great contempt.
No, no—he would starve before he would
break a crust with the negroes.”

“I am but too happy, Dickon, to tempt him to
eat with ourselves,” said Marmaduke, “to think
of offering even the indignity you propose.”

“Then, sir,” said Elizabeth, with an air that
was slightly affected, as if submitting to her father's
orders in opposition to her own will, “it is
your pleasure that he be a gentleman.”

“Certainly; he is to fill the station of one; let
him receive the treatment that is due to his place,
until we find him unworthy of it.”

“Well, well, 'duke,” cried the Sheriff, “you
will find it no easy matter to make a gentleman
of him. The old proverb says, `that it takes
three generations to make a gentleman. There
was my father whom every body knew; my
grandfather was an M. D.; and his father a D. D.;
and his father came from England. I never could
come at the truth of his origin, but he was either
a great merchant, in London, or a great country
lawyer.”

“Here is a true American genealogy for you,”
said Marmaduke, laughing. “It does very well,
'till you get across the water, where, as every

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[figure description] Page 259.[end figure description]

thing is obscure, it is certain to deal in the superlative.
You are sure that your English progenitor
was great, Dickon, whatever his profession
might be?”

“To be sure I am,” returned the other; “I
have heard my old aunt talk of him by the month.
We are of a good family, Judge Temple, and have
never filled any but honourable stations in life.”

“I marvel that you should be satisfied with so
scanty a provision of gentility, in the olden time,
Dickon. Most of the American genealogists commence
their traditions, like the stories for children,
with three brothers, taking especial care
that one of the triumvirate shall be the progenitor
of any of the same name who may happen to be
better furnished with worldly gear than themselves.
But, here, all are equal who know how to conduct
themselves with propriety; and Oliver Edwards
comes into my family, on a footing with both the
High Sheriff and the Judge.”

“Well, 'duke, I call this democracy, not republicanism;
but I say nothing; only let him keep
within the law, or I shall show him, that the freedom
of even this country is under wholesome restraint.”

“Surely, Dickon, you will not execute till I
condemn!” said Marmaduke. “But what says
Bess to the new inmate? We must pay a deferrence
to the ladies, in this matter, after all.”

“Oh! sir,” returned Elizabeth, “I believe I
am much like a certain Judge Temple, in this
particular; not easily to be turned from my opinion.
But, to be serious, although I must think
the introduction of a demi-savage into the family
a somewhat startling event, whomsoever you
think proper to countenance, may be sure of my
respect.”

The Judge drew her arm more closely in his

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own, and smiled, while Richard led the way
through the gate of the little court-yard in the
rear of the dwelling, dealing out his ambiguous
warnings, with his accustomed loquacity.

On the other hand, the foresters, for the three
hunters, notwithstanding their great difference in
character, well deserved this common name, pursued
their course along the skirts of the village in
silence. It was not until they had reached the
lake, and were moving over its frozen surface,
towards the foot of the mountain, where their hut
stood, that the youth exclaimed—

“Who could have foreseen this, a month since!
I have consented to serve Marmaduke Temple!
to be an inmate in the dwelling of the greatest
enemy of my race! yet what better could I do?
The servitude cannot be long, and when the motive
for submitting to it ceases to exist, I will
shake it off, like the dust from my feet.”

“Is he a Mingo, that you will call him enemy?”
said Mohegan. “The Delaware warrior sits still,
and waits the time of the Great Spirit. He is no
woman, to cry out like a child.”

“Well, I'm mistrustful, John,” said Leather-stocking,
in whose air there had been, during the
whole business, a strong expression of doubt and
uncertainty. “They say that there's new laws
in the land, and I am sartain that there's new ways
in the mountains. One hardly knows the lakes
and streams, they've altered the country so much.
I must say I'm mistrustful of such smooth speakers;
for I've known the whites talk fair, when they
wanted the Indian lands most. This I will say,
though I'm white myself, and was born nigh York,
and of honest parents too.”

“I will submit,” said the youth; “I will forget
who I am. Cease to remember, old Mohegan,
that I am the descendant of a Delaware chief,

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[figure description] Page 261.[end figure description]

who once was master of these noble hills, these
beautiful vales, and of this water, over which we
tread. Yes, yes—I will become his bondsman—
his slave! Is it not an honourable servitude, old
man?”

“Old man!” repeated the Indian, solemnly,
and pausing in his walk, as usual when much excited—
“yes; John is old. Son of my brother!
if Mohegan was young, when would his rifle be
still? where would the deer hide, and he not find
him? But John is old; his hand is the hand of a
squaw; his tomahawk is a hatchet; brooms and
baskets are his enemies—he strikes no other.—
Hunger and old age come together. See, Hawk-eye!
when young, he would go days and eat nothing;
but should he not put the brush on the fire
now, the blaze would go out. Take the son of
Miquon by the hand, and he will help you.”

“I'm not the man I was, I'll own, Chingach-gook,”
returned the Leather-stocking; “but I can
go without a meal now, on occasion. When we
tracked the Iroquois through the `Beech-woods,'
they druv the game afore them, for I hadn't a
morsel to eat from Monday morning, come Wednesday
sundown; and then I shot as fat a buck,
on the Pennsylvanny line, as you ever laid eyes
on. It would have done your heart raal good to
have seen the Delawares eat,—for I was out
scouting and scrimmaging with their tribe, at the
very time. Lord! the Indians, lad, lay still, and
just waited till Providence should send them their
game; but I foraged about, and put a deer up,
and put him down too, 'fore he had made a dozen
jumps. I was too weak, and too ravenous
to stop for his flesh; so I took a good drink of
his blood, and the Indians eat of his meat raw.
John was there, and John knows. But then starvation
would be apt to be too much for me now,

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[figure description] Page 262.[end figure description]

I will own, though I'm no great eater at any
time.”

“Enough is said, my friends,” cried the youth.
“I feel that every where the sacrifice is required
at my hands, and it shall be made; but say
no more, I entreat you; I cannot bear the subject
now.”

His companions were silent, and they soon
reached the hut, which they entered, after removing
certain complicated and ingenious fastenings,
that were put there, apparently, to guard a property
of but very little value. Immense piles of
snow lay against the log walls of this secluded
habitation, on one side, while fragments of small
trees, and branches of oak and chestnut, that had
been torn from their parent stems by the winds,
were thrown into a pile, on the other. A small
column of smoke rose through a chimney of
sticks, cemented with clay, along the side of the
rock; and had marked the snow above with its
dark tinges, in a wavy line, from the point of emission
to another where the hill receded from the
brow of a precipice, and held a soil that nourished
trees of a gigantic growth, that overhung the
little bottom beneath.

The remainder of the day passed off as such
days are commonly spent in a new country.—
The settlers thronged to the academy again, to
witness the second effort of Mr. Grant; and Mohegan
was one of his hearers. But, notwithstanding
the Divine fixed his eyes intently on the
Indian, when he invited his congregation to advance
to the table, the shame of last night's abasement
was yet too keen in the old chief to suffer
him to move.

When the people were dispersing, the clouds
that had been gathering all the morning, were
dense and dirty; and before half of the curious

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congregation had reached their different cabins,
that were placed in every glen and hollow of the
mountains, or perched on the summits of the hills
themselves, the rain was falling in torrents. The
dark edges of the stumps began to exhibit themselves,
as the snow settled rapidly; the fences of
logs and brush, which before had been only traced
by the long lines of white mounds, that ran
across the valley and up the mountains, peeped
out, in spots, from their light covering; and the
black stubs were momentarily becoming more distinct,
as large masses of snow and ice fell from
their sides, under the influence of the thaw.

Sheltered in the warm hall of her father's
comfortable mansion, Elizabeth, accompanied by
Louisa Grant, looked abroad with admiration at
the ever-varying face of things without. Even
the village, which had just before been glittering
with the colour of the frozen element, reluctantly
dropped its mask, and the houses exposed their
dark roofs and smoked chimneys. The pines
shook off their covering of snow, and every thing
seemed to be assuming its proper hue, with a rapidity
of transition that bordered on the supernatural.

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CHAPTER XIX.

And yet, poor Edwin was no vulgar boy.

Beattie.

[figure description] Page 264.[end figure description]

The close of Christmas day, A. D. 1793, was
tempestuous, but comparatively warm. When
darkness had again hid the objects in the village
from the gaze of Elizabeth, she turned from the
window, where she had remained while the least
vestige of light lingered over the tops of the dark
pines, with a curiosity that was rather excited
than appeased by the passing glimpses of woodland
scenery that she had caught during the day.

With her arm locked in that of Miss Grant, the
young mistress of the mansion walked slowly up
and down the hall, musing on scenes that were
rapidly recurring to her memory, and possibly
dwelling, at times, in the sanctuary of her
thoughts, on the strange occurrences that had led
to the introduction to her father's family, of one,
whose manners so singularly contradicted the inferences
to be drawn from his situation. The
expiring heat of the apartment, for its great size
required a day to reduce its temperature, had
given to her cheeks a richness of bloom that

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[figure description] Page 265.[end figure description]

exceeded their natural colour, while the mild and
melancholy features of Louisa were brightened
with a faint tinge, that, like the hectic glow of
disease, gave a painful interest to her beauty.

The eyes of the gentlemen, who were yet seated
around the rich wines of Judge Temple, frequently
wandered from the table, that was placed
at one end of the hall, to the lovely forms that
were silently moving over its length. Much
mirth, and that, at times, of a boisterous kind,
proceeded from the mouth of Richard; but Major
Hartmann was not yet excited to his pitch of
merriment, and Marmaduke respected the presence
of his clerical guest too much, to indulge in
even the innocent humour that formed no small
ingredient in his character.

Such were, and such continued to be, the pursuits
of the party, for half an hour after the shutters
were closed, and candles were placed in various
parts of the hall, as substitutes for the departing
daylight. The appearance of Benjamin staggering
under the burthen of an armful of wood,
was the first interruption to the scene.

“How now, Master Pump!” roared the newly
appointed Sheriff; “is there not warmth enough
in 'duke's best Madeira, to keep up the animal
heat through this thaw? Remember, old boy,
that the Judge is particular with his beech and
maple, beginning to dread, already, a scarcity of
the precious articles. Ha! ha! ha! 'duke, you
are a good, warm-hearted relation, I will own, as
in duty bound, but you have some queer notions
about you, after all. `Come let us be jolly, and
cast away folly!' ”—

The notes gradually sunk into a hum, while
the Major-domo threw down his load, and turning
to his interrogator with an air of great earnestness,
he replied—

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[figure description] Page 266.[end figure description]

“Why, look you, Squire Dickens, mayhap
there's a warm latitude round about the table
there, thof it's not the stuff to raise the heat in
my body, neither; the raal Jamaiky being the
only thing to do that, beside good wood, or some
such matter as Newcastle coal. But if I know
any thing of weather, d'ye see, it's time to be getting
all snug, and for putting the ports in, and
stirring the fires abit. Mayhap I've not followed
the seas twenty-seven years, and lived another
seven in these here woods, for nothing, gemmen.”

“Why, does it bid fair for a change in the
weather, Benjamin?” inquired the master of the
house.

“There's a shift of wind, your honour,” returned
the steward; “and when there's a shift of
wind, you may look for a change, in this here
climate. I was aboard of one of Rodney's fleet,
d'ye see, about the time we licked De Grasse,
Mounsheer Ler Quaw's countryman, there; and
the wind was here at the south'ard and east'ard;
and I was below, mixing a toothful of hot-stuff for
the Captain of marines, who dined, d'ye see, in
the cabin, that there very same day; and I suppose
he wanted to put out the Captain's fire with
a gun-room ingyne: and so, just as I got it to
my own liking, after tasting pretty often, for the
soldier was difficult to please, slap, come the
fore-sail ag'in the mast, and whiz, went the ship
round on her heel, like a whirlygig. And a
lucky thing was it that our helm was down; for
as she gathered starnway she payed off, which
was more than every ship in the fleet did, or could
do. But she strained herself in the trough of the
sea, and she shipped a deal of water over her
quarter. I never swallowed so much clear water
at a time, in my life, as I did then, for I was looking
up the after-hatch at the instant.”

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“I wonder, Benjamin, that you did not die with
a dropsy!” said Marmaduke.

“I mought, Judge,” said the old tar, with a
broad grin; “but there was no need of the med'cine
chest for a cure; for, as I thought the brew
was spoilt for the marine's taste, and there was no
telling when another sea might come and spoil it
for mine, I finished the mug on the spot. So then
all hands was called to the pumps, and there we
began to ply the pumps—”

“Well, but the weather?” interrupted Marmaduke;
“what of the weather without doors?”

“Why, here the wind has been all day at the
south, and now there's a lull, as if the last blast
was out of the bellows; and there's a streak along
the mountain, to the north'ard, that, just now,
wasn't wider than the bigness of your hand; and
then the clouds drive afore it as you'd brail a
mainsail, and the stars are heaving in sight, like
so many lights and beacons, put there to warn us
to pile on the wood; and, if-so-be that I'm a
judge of weather, it's getting to be time to build
on a fire; or you'll have half of them there porter-bottles,
and them dimmy-johns of wine, in the
locker here, breaking with the frost, afore the
morning watch is called.”

“Thou art a prudent sentinel,” said the Judge.
“Act thy pleasure with the forests, for this night
at least.”

Benjamin did as he was ordered; nor had two
hours elapsed, before the prudence of his precautions
became very visible. The south wind had,
indeed, blown itself out, and it was succeeded by
the calmness that usually gave warning of a serious
change in the weather. Long before the
family retired to rest, the cold had become cuttingly
sever; and when Monsieur Le Quoi sallied
forth, under a bright moon, to seek his own

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abode, he was compelled to beg a blanket, in
which he might envelope his form, in addition
to the numerous garments that his sagacity had
provided for the occasion. The divine and his
daughter remained, as inmates of the Mansion-house,
during the night, and the excess of last
night's merriment induced the gentlemen to make
an early retreat to their several apartments.—
Long before midnight, the whole family were invisible.

Elizabeth and her friend had not yet lost their
senses in sleep, when the howlings of the north-west
wind were heard around the buildings, and
brought with them that exquisite sense of comfort,
that is ever excited under such circumstances, in
an apartment where the fire has not yet ceased to
glimmer; and curtains, and shutters, and feathers,
unite to preserve the desired temperature in the
air. Once, just as her eyes had opened, apparently
in the last stage of drowsiness, the roaring
winds brought with them a long and plaintive
howl, that seemed too wild for a dog, and yet
strongly resembled the cries of that faithful animal,
when night awakens his vigilance, and gives
sweetness and solemnity to his alarms. The form
of Louisa Grant instinctively pressed nearer to
that of the young heiress, who, finding her companion
was yet awake, said, in a low tone, as if
afraid to break a charm with her voice—

“Those distant cries are plaintive, and even
beautiful. Can they be the hounds from the hut
of Leather-stocking?”

“They are wolves, who have ventured from the
mountain, on the lake,” whispered Louisa, “and
who are only kept from the village by the lights.
One night since we have been here, hunger drove
them to our very doors. Oh! what a dreadful
night it was! But the riches of Judge Temple

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[figure description] Page 269.[end figure description]

have given him too many safeguards, to leave
room for fear in this house.”

“The enterprise of Judge Temple is taming
the very forests!” exclaimed Elizabeth, proudly,
throwing off the covering, and partly rising in
the bed. “How rapidly is civilization treading
on the footsteps of nature!” she continued, as her
eye glanced over, not only the comforts, but the
luxuries of her apartment, and her ear again listened
to distant, but often repeated howls
from the lake. Finding, however, that the timidity
of her companion rendered the sounds painful
to her, Elizabeth resumed her place by her side,
and soon forgot the changes in the country, with
those in her own condition, in a deep sleep.

The following morning, the noise of the female
servant, who entered the apartment to light their
fire, awoke the young maidens, who form such
conspicuous subjects in our tale. They arose,
and finished the slight preparations of their toilettes
in a clear, cold atmosphere, that penetrated
through all the defences of even Miss Temple's
warm room. When Elizabeth was attried, she
approached a window and drew its curtain, and,
throwing open its shutters, she endeavoured to
look abroad on the village and the lake. But a
thick covering of frost, on the panes of glass,
while it admitted the light, hid the view. She
raised the sash, and then, indeed, a most glorious
scene met her delighted eye.

The lake had exchanged its covering of unspoted
snow, for a face of dark ice, that reflected the
rays of the rising sun, like a polished mirror.
The houses were clothed in a dress of the same
description, but which, owing to its position,
shone like bright steel; while the enormous icicles
that were pendent from every roof, caught the

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brilliant light, apparently throwing it from one
to the other, as each glittered, on the side next
to the luminary, with a golden lustre, that melted
away, on its opposite, into the dusky shades of a
back-ground. But it was the appearance of the
boundless forests, that covered the hills, as they
rose, in the distance, one over the other, that
most attracted the gaze of Miss Temple. The
huge branches of the pines and hemlocks, on the
western mountains, bent with the weight of the
ice they supported, while their summits rose
above the swelling tops of the oaks, beeches, and
maples, like spires of burnished silver issuing
from domes of the same material. The limits of
the view, in this direction, were marked by an
undulating outline of bright light, as if, reversing
the order of nature, numberless suns might momentarily
be expected to heave above the western
horizon. In the foreground of the picture, along
the shores of the lake, and near to the village,
each tree seemed studded with diamonds, that
emitted their dancing rays, as the branches waved
gently under the impulse of the air. Even the
sides of the mountains, where the rays of the sun
could not yet fall, were decorated with a glassy
coat, that presented every gradation of brilliancy,
from the first touch of the luminary to the dark
foliage of the hemlock, glistening through its coat
of crystal. In short, the whole view was one
scene of quivering radiancy, as lake, mountains,
village, and woods, each emitted a portion of
light, tinged with its peculiar hue, and varied by
its position and its magnitude.

“See!” cried Elizabeth—“see, Louisa; hasten
to the window, and observe the miraculous
change.”

Miss Grant complied; and, after bending for a
moment in silence from the opening, she

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observed, in a low tone, as if afraid to trust the sound
of her voice—

“The change is indeed wonderful! I am surprised
that he should be able to effect it so soon.”

Elizabeth turned in amazement, to hear such a
sceptical sentiment from one educated like her
companion; but was surprised to find that, instead
of looking at the view, the mild, blue eyes
of Miss Grant were dwelling on the form of a well-dressed
young man, who was standing before the
door of the building, in earnest conversation with
her father. A second look was necessary, before
she was able to recognise the person of the young
hunter, in a plain, but, assuredly; the ordinary
garb of a gentleman.

“Every thing in this magical country seems to
border on the marvellous,” said Elizabeth; “and
among all the changes, this is certainly not the
least wonderful. I am not surprised, that your
eye caught this transformation, without noticing
the changes in the view. The actors are as unique
as the scenery.”

Miss Grant coloured highly, and drew in her
head, as she answered—

“I am a simple girl, Miss Temple, and I am
afraid you will find me but a poor companion.—
I—I am not sure that I understand all that you
say. But I really thought that you wished me to
notice the alteration in Mr. Edwards. Is it not
more wonderful, when we recollect his origin?
They say he is part Indian.”

“He is certainly a genteel savage,” returned
the smiling Elizabeth. “But let us go down, and
give the Sachem his tea;—for I suppose he is a
descendant of King Philip, if not a grandson of
Pocahontas.”

The ladies were met in the hall by Judge Temple,
who took his daughter aside, to apprise her

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of that alteration in the appearance of their new
inmate, with which she was already acquainted.

“He appears reluctant to converse on his former
situation,” continued Marmaduke; “but I
gather from his discourse, as is apparent from his
manner, that he has seen better days; and I really
am inclining to the opinion of Richard, as to
his origin; for it was no unusual thing for the Indian
Agents to rear their children in a laudable
manner, and—”

“Very well, my dear sir,” interrupted his
daughter, laughing, and averting her eyes; “it is
all well enough, I dare say; but as I do not
understand a word of the Mohawk language, he
must be content to speak English; and as for his
behaviour, I trust to your discernment to control
it.”

“Ay! but, Bess,” said the Judge, detaining
her gently, with his hand, “nothing must be said
to him of his past life. This he has begged particularly
of me, as a favour. He is, perhaps, a
little soured, just now, with his wounded arm;
but the injury seems very light, and another time
he may be more communicative.”

“Oh! I am not much troubled, sir, with that
laudable thirst after knowledge, that is called curiosity.
I shall believe him to be the child of
Corn-stalk, or Corn-planter, or some other renowned
chieftain; possibly of the Big Snake
himself; and shall treat him as such, until he
sees fit to shave his good-looking head, borrow
some half-dozen pair of my best ear-rings, shoulder
his rifle again, and disappear as suddenly as
he made his entrance. So come, my dear sir,
and let us not forget the rites of hospitality, for
the short time he is to remain with us.”

Judge Temple smiled, at the graceful playfulness
of his child, and taking her arm, they

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entered the breakfast parlour, where the young hunter
was seated, with an air that showed his determination
to domesticate himself in the family, with as
little parade as possible.

Such were the incidents that led to this extraordinary
increase in the family of Judge Temple,
where, having once established the youth, the subject
of our tale requires us to leave him, for a time,
to pursue with diligence and intelligence the employments
that were assigned him by Marmaduke.

Major Hartmann made his customary visit, and
took his leave of the party, for the next three
months. Mr. Grant was compelled to be absent
much of his time, in remote parts of the country,
and his daughter became almost a constant visiter
at the Mansion-house. Richard entered, with his
constitutional eagerness, on the duties of his new
office; and, as Marmaduke was much employed,
with the constant applications of adventurers, for
farms, the winter passed swiftly away. The lake
was a principal scene for the amusements of the
young people; where the ladies, in their one-horse
cutter, driven by Richard, and attended, when
the snow would admit of it, by young Edwards,
on his skates, spent many hours, taking the benefit
of exercise in the clear air of the hills. The
reserve of the youth gradually gave way to time
and his situation, though it was still evident, to a
close observer, that he had frequent moments of
bitter and intense feeling.

Elizabeth saw many large openings appear in
the sides of the mountains, during the three succeeding
months, where different settlers had, in the
language of the country, “made their pitch;”
while the numberless sleighs that passed through
the village, loaded with wheat and barrels of potashes,
afforded a clear demonstration that all these
labours were not undertaken in vain. In short,

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the whole country was exhibiting the bustle of a
thriving settlement, where the highways were
thronged with sleighs, bearing piles of rough
household furniture; studded, here and there, with
the smiling faces of women and children, happy
in the excitement of novelty; or with loads of
produce, hastening to the common market at Albany,
as served as so many snares, to induce the
emigrants to enter into those wild mountains in
search of competence and happiness.

The village was alive with business; the artisans
increasing in wealth with the prosperity of
the country, and each day witnessing some nearer
approach to the manners and usages of an old-settled
town. The man who carried the mail, or
“the post,” as he was called, talked much of running
a stage, and once or twice, during the winter,
he was seen taking a single passenger in his cutter,
through the snow-banks towards the Mohawk,
along which a regular vehicle glided, semi-weekly,
with the velocity of lightning, and under the
direction of a knowing whip from the “down
countries.” Towards spring, divers families, who
had been into the “old states,” to see their relatives,
returned, in time to save the snow, frequently
bringing with them whole neighbourhoods, who
were tempted by their representations to leave the
farms of Connecticut and Massachusetts, and make
a trial in the woods for fortune.

During all this time, Oliver Edwards, whose
sudden elevation excited no surprise in that
changeful country, was earnestly engaged in the
service of Marmaduke, during the days; but his
nights were often spent in the hut of Leather-stocking.
The intercourse between the three
hunters was maintained with a certain air of mystery,
it is true, but with much zeal and apparent
interest to all the parties. Even Mohegan seldom

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came to the Mansion-house, and Natty, never;
but Edwards sought every leisure moment to visit
his former abode, from which he would often return
in the gloomy hours of night, through the
snow, or, if detained beyond the time at which
the family retired to rest, with the morning sun.
These visits certainly excited much speculation
in those to whom they were known, but no comments
were made, excepting occasionally in whispers
from Richard, who would say—

“It is not at all remarkable;—a half-breed can
never be weaned from the savage ways, any more
than a full-blooded Indian.”

END OF VOL. I. Back matter

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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851 [1823], The pioneers, volume 1 (Charles Wiley, New York) [word count] [eaf054v1].
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