“I have good news for you, Wilhelmina,” cried the
captain, coming into the parlour where his wife used to sit
and knit or sew quite half the day, and speaking with a
bright face, and in a cheerful voice—“Here is a letter from
my excellent old colonel; and Bob's affair is all settled and
agreed on. He is to leave school next week, and to put on
His Majesty's livery the week after.”

Mrs. Willoughby smiled, and yet two or three tears followed
each other down her cheeks, even while she smiled.
The first was produced by pleasure at hearing that her son
had got an ensigncy in the 60th, or Royal Americans; and
the last was a tribute paid to nature; a mother's fears at
consigning an only boy to the profession of arms.

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

“I am rejoiced, Willoughby,” she said, “because you
rejoice, and I know that Robert will be delighted at possessing
the king's commission; but, he is very young to be sent
into the dangers of battle and the camp!”

“I was younger, when I actually went into battle, for
then it was war; now, we have a peace that promises to be
endless, and Bob will have abundance of time to cultivate a
beard before he smells gunpowder. As for myself” — he
added in a half-regretful manner, for old habits and opinions
would occasionally cross his mind — “as for myself, the
cultivation of turnips must be my future occupation. Well,
the bit of parchment is sold, Bob has got his in its place,
while the difference in price is in my pocket, and no more
need be said — and here come our dear girls, Wilhelmina,
to prevent any regrets. The father of two such daughters
ought, at least, to be happy.”

At this instant, Beulah and Maud Willoughby, (for so
the adopted child was called as well as the real), entered
the room, having taken the lodgings of their parents, in a
morning walk, on which they were regularly sent by the
mistress of the boarding-school, in which they were receiving
what was then thought to be a first-rate American female
education. And much reason had their fond parents to be
proud of them! Beulah, the eldest, was just eleven, while
her sister was eighteen months younger. The first had a
staid, and yet a cheerful look; but her cheeks were blooming,
her eyes bright, and her smile sweet. Maud, the adopted
one, however, had already the sunny countenance of an
angel, with quite as much of the appearance of health as
her sister; her face had more finesse, her looks more intelligence,
her playfulness more feeling, her smile more tenderness,
at times; at others, more meaning. It is scarcely
necessary to say that both had that delicacy of outline
which seems almost inseparable from the female form in
this country. What was, perhaps, more usual in that day
among persons of their class than it is in our own, each
spoke her own language with an even graceful utterance,
and a faultless accuracy of pronunciation, equally removed
from effort and provincialisms. As the Dutch was in very
common use then, at Albany, and most females of Dutch
origin had a slight touch of their mother tongue in their

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

enunciation of English, this purity of dialect in the two girls
was to be ascribed to the fact that their father was an Englishman
by birth; their mother an American of purely
English origin, though named after a Dutch god-mother;
and the head of the school in which they had now beer
three years, was a native of London, and a lady by habite
and education.

“Now, Maud,” cried the captain, after he had kissed the
forehead, eyes and cheeks of his smiling little favourite—
“Now, Maud, I will set you to guess what good news I
have for you and Beulah.”

“You and mother do n't mean to go to that bad Beaver
Manor this summer, as some call the ugly pond?” answered
the child, quick as lightning.

“That is kind of you, my darling; more kind than prudent;
but you are not right.”

“Try Beulah, now,” interrupted the mother, who, while
she too doted on her youngest child, had an increasing
respect for the greater solidity and better judgment of her
sister: “let us hear Beulah's guess.”

“It is something about my brother, I know by mother's
eyes,” answered the eldest girl, looking inquiringly into
Mrs. Willoughby's face.

“Oh! yes,” cried Maud, beginning to jump about the
room, until she ended her saltations in her father's arms—
“Bob has got his commission!—I know it all well enough,
now—I would not thank you to tell me—I know it all now—
dear Bob, how he will laugh! and how happy I am!”

“Is it so, mother?” asked Beulah, anxiously, and without
even a smile.

“Maud is right; Bob is an ensign—or, will be one, in a
day or two. You do not seem pleased, my child?”

“I wish Robert were not a soldier, mother. Now he will
be always away, and we shall never see him; then he may
be obliged to fight, and who knows how unhappy it may
make him?”

Beulah thought more of her brother than she did of herself;
and, sooth to say, her mother had many of the child's
misgivings. With Maud it was altogether different: she
saw only the bright side of the picture; Bob gay and brilliant,
his face covered with smiles, his appearance admired,

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

himself, and of course his sisters, happy. Captain Willoughby
sympathized altogether with his pet. Accustomed
to arms, he rejoiced that a career in which he had partially
failed — this he did not conceal from himself or his wife —
that this same career had opened, as he trusted, with better
auspices on his only son. He covered Maud with kisses,
and then rushed from the house, finding his heart too full
to run the risk of being unmanned in the presence of females.

A week later, availing themselves of one of the last falls
of snow of the season, captain Willoughby and his wife left
Albany for the Knoll. The leave-taking was tender, and
to the parents bitter; though after all, it was known that
little more than a hundred miles would separate them from
their beloved daughters. Fifty of these miles, however,
were absolutely wilderness; and to achieve them, quite a
hundred of tangled forest, or of difficult navigation, were
to be passed. The communications would be at considerable
intervals, and difficult. Still they might be held, and
the anxious mother left many injunctions with Mrs. Waring,
the head of the school, in relation to the health of her daughters,
and the manner in which she was to be sent for, in the
event of any serious illness.

Mrs. Willoughby had often overcome, as she fancied, the
difficulties of a wilderness, in the company of her husband.
It is the fashion highly to extol Napoleon's passage of the
Alps, simply in reference to its physical obstacles. There
never was a brigade moved twenty-four hours into the American
wilds, that had not greater embarrassments of this
nature to overcome, unless in those cases in which favourable
river navigation has offered its facilities. Still, time
and necessity had made a sort of military ways to all the
more important frontier points occupied by the British garrisons,
and the experience of Mrs. Willoughby had not
hitherto been of the severe character of that she was now
compelled to undergo.

The first fifty miles were passed over in a sleigh, in a
few hours, and with little or no personal fatigue. This
brought the travellers to a Dutch inn on the Mohawk, where
the captain had often made his halts, and whither he had,
from time to time, sent his advanced parties in the course

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

of the winter and spring. Here a jumper was found prepared
to receive Mrs. Willoughby; and the horse being led
by the captain himself, a passage through the forest was
effected as far as the head of the Otsego. The distance being
about twelve miles, it required two days for its performance.
As the settlements extended south from the Mohawk
a few miles, the first night was passed in a log cabin, on
the extreme verge of civilization, if civilization it could be
called, and the remaining eight miles were got over in the
course of the succeeding day. This was more than would
probably have been achieved in the virgin forest, and under
the circumstances, had not so many of the captain's people
passed over the same ground, going and returning, thereby
learning how to avoid the greatest difficulties of the route,
and here and there constructing a rude bridge. They had
also blazed the trees, shortening the road by pointing out
its true direction.

At the head of the Otsego, our adventurers were fairly in
the wilderness. Huts had been built to receive the travellers,
and here the whole party assembled, in readiness to
make a fresh start in company. It consisted of more than
a dozen persons, in all; the black domestics of the family
being present, as well as several mechanics whom Captain
Willoughby had employed to carry on his improvements.
The men sent in advance had not been idle, any more than
those left at the Hutted Knoll. They had built three or
four skiffs, one small batteau, and a couple of canoes.
These were all in the water, in waiting for the disappearance
of the ice; which was now reduced to a mass of stalactites
in form, greenish and sombre in hue, as they floated in a body,
but clear and bright when separated and exposed to the sun.
The south winds began to prevail, and the shore was glittering
with the fast-melting piles of the frozen fluid, though
it would have been vain yet to attempt a passage through it.

The Otsego is a sheet that we have taken more than one
occasion to describe, and the picture it then presented,
amidst its frame of mountains, will readily be imagined by
most of our readers. In 1765, no sign of a settlement was
visible on its shores; few of the grants of land in that
vicinity extending back so far. Still the spot began to be
known; and hunters had been in the habit of frequenting

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

its bosom and its shores, for the last twenty years or more.
Not a vestige of their presence, however, was to be seen
from the huts of the captain; but Mrs. Willoughby assured
her husband, as she stood leaning on his arm, the morning
after her arrival, that never before had she gazed on so
eloquent, and yet so pleasing a picture of solitude as that
which lay spread before her eyes.

“There is something encouraging and soothing in this
bland south wind, too,” she added, “which seems to promise
that we shall meet with a beneficent nature, in the
spot to which we are going. The south airs of spring, to
me are always filled with promise.”

“And justly, love; for they are the harbingers of a
renewed vegetation. If the wind increase, as I think it
may, we shall see this chilling sheet of ice succeeded by the
more cheerful view of water. It is in this way, that all
these lakes open their bosoms in April.”

Captain Willoughby did not know it, while speaking, but,
at that moment, quite two miles of the lower, or southern
end of the lake, was clear, and the opening giving a sweep
to the breeze, the latter was already driving the sheets of
ice before it, towards the head, at a rate of quite a mile in
the hour. Just then, an Irishman, named Michael O'Hearn,
who had recently arrived in America, and whom the captain
had hired as a servant of all work, came rushing up to
his master, and opened his teeming thoughts, with an
earnestness of manner, and a confusion of rhetoric, that
were equally characteristic of the man and of a portion of
his nation.

“Is it journeying south, or to the other end of this bit of
wather, or ice, that yer honour is thinking of?” he cried.
“Well, and there'll be room for us all, and to spare; for
divil a bir-r-d will be left in that quarter by night, or forenent
twelve o'clock either, calculating by the clock, if one
had such a thing; as a body might say.”

As this was said not only vehemently, but with an accent
that defies imitation with the pen, Mrs. Willoughby was
quite at a loss to get a clue to the idea; but, her husband,
more accustomed to men of Mike's class, was sufficiently
lucky to comprehend what he was at.

“You mean the pigeons, Mike, I suppose,” the captain

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

answered, good-humouredly. “There are certainly a
goodly number of them; and I dare say our hunters will
bring us in some, for dinner. It is a certain sign that the
winter is gone, when birds and beasts follow their instincts,
in this manner. Where are you from, Mike?”

“County Leitrim, yer honour,” answered the other,
touching his cap.

“Ay, that one may guess,” said the captain, smiling;
“but where last?”

“From looking at the bir-r-ds, sir!—Och! It's a sight
that will do madam good, and contains a sartainty there'll
be room enough made for us, where all these cr'atures came
from. I'm thinking, yer honour, if we don't ate them,
they'll be wanting to ate us. What a power of them, counting
big and little; though they're all of a size, just as much
as if they had flown through a hole made on purpose to
kape them down to a convanient bigness, in body and
feathers.”

“Such a flight of pigeons in Ireland, would make a sensation,
Mike,” observed the captain, willing to amuse his
wife, by drawing out the County Leitrim-man, a little.

“It would make a dinner, yer honour, for every mother's
son of 'em, counting the gur-r-rls, in the bargain! Such a
power of bir-r-ds, would knock down 'praties, in a wonderful
degree, and make even butthermilk chape and plenthiful.
Will it be always such abundance with us, down at the
Huts, yer honour? or is this sight only a delusion to fill us
with hopes that's never to be satisfied?”

“Pigeons are seldom wanting in this country, Mike, in
the spring and autumn; though we have both birds and
beasts, in plenty, that are preferable for food.”

“Will it be plentthier than this?—Well, it's enough to
destroy human appetite, the sight of 'em! I'd give the
half joe I lost among them blackguards in Albany, at their
Pauss, as they calls it, jist to let my sister's childer have
their supper out of one of these flocks, such as they are,
betther or no betther. Och! its pleasant to think of them
childer having their will, for once, on such a power of
wild, savage bir-r-ds!”

Captain Willoughby smiled at this proof of naiveté in his
new domestic, and then led his wife back to the hut; it

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

being time to make some fresh dispositions for the approaching
movement. By noon, it became apparent to those who
were waiting such an event, that the lake was opening;
and, about the same time, one of the hunters came in from
a neighbouring mountain, and reported that he had seen
clear water, as near their position as three or four miles.
By this time it was blowing fresh, and the wind, having a
clear rake, drove up the honeycomb-looking sheet before it,
as the scraper accumulates snow. When the sun set, the
whole north shore was white with piles of glittering icicles;
while the bosom of the Otsego, no longer disturbed by the
wind, resembled a placid mirror.

Early on the following morning, the whole party embarked.
There was no wind, and men were placed at the
paddles and the oars. Care was taken, on quitting the
huts, to close their doors and shutters; for they were to be
taverns to cover the heads of many a traveller, in the frequent
journeys that were likely to be made, between the
Knoll and the settlements. These stations, then, were of
the last importance, and a frontier-man always had the same
regard for them, that the mountaineer of the Alps has for
his “refuge.”

The passage down the Otsego was the easiest and most
agreeable portion of the whole journey. The day was
pleasant, and the oarsmen vigorous, if not very skilful, rendering
the movement rapid, and sufficiently direct. But
one drawback occurred to the prosperity of the voyage.
Among the labourers hired by the captain, was a Connecticut
man, of the name of Joel Strides, between whom and the
County Leitrim-man, there had early commenced a warfare
of tricks and petty annoyances; a warfare that was perfectly
defensive on the part of O'Hearn, who did little more,
in the way of retort, than comment on the long, lank, shapeless
figure, and meagre countenance of his enemy. Joel
had not been seen to smile, since he engaged with the captain;
though three times had he laughed outright, and each
time at the occurrence of some mishap to Michael O'Hearn,
the fruit of one of his own schemes of annoyance.

On the present occasion, Joel, who had the distribution
of such duty, placed Mike in a skiff, by himself, flattering
the poor fellow with the credit he would achieve, by rowing

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

a boat to the foot of the lake, without assistance. He might
as well have asked Mike to walk to the outlet on the surface
of the water! This arrangement proceeded from an innate
love of mischief in Joel, who had much of the quiet waggery,
blended with many of the bad qualities of the men of his
peculiar class. A narrow and conceited selfishness lay at
the root of the larger portion of this man's faults. As a
physical being, he was a perfect labour-saving machine,
himself; bringing all the resources of a naturally quick and
acute mind to bear on this one end, never doing anything
that required a particle more than the exertion and strength
that were absolutely necessary to effect his object. He
rowed the skiff in which the captain and his wife had embarked,
with his own hands; and, previously to starting,
he had selected the best sculls from the other boats, had
fitted his twhart with the closest attention to his own ease,
and had placed a stretcher for his feet, with an intelligence
and knowledge of mechanics, that would have done credit
to a Whitehall waterman. This much proceeded from the
predominating principle of his nature, which was, always to
have an eye on the interests of Joel Strides; though the
effect happened, in this instance, to be beneficial to those he
served.

Michael O'Hearn, on the contrary, thought only of the
end; and this so intensely, not to so say vehemently, as
generally to overlook the means. Frank, generous, selfdevoted,
and withal accustomed to get most things wrong-end-foremost,
he usually threw away twice the same labour,
in effecting a given purpose, that was expended by the
Yankee; doing the thing worse, too, besides losing twice
the time. He never paused to think of this, however.
The masther's boat was to be rowed to the other end of the
lake, and, though he had never rowed a boat an inch in his
life, he was ready and willing to undertake the job. “If a
certain quantity of work will not do it,” thought Mike, “I'll
try as much ag'in; and the divil is in it, if that won't sarve
the purpose of that little bit of a job.”

Under such circumstances the party started. Most of
the skiffs and canoes went off half an hour before Mrs.
Willoughby was ready, and Joel managed to keep Mike for
the last, under the pretence of wishing his aid in loading his

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

own boat, with the bed and bedding from the hut. All was
ready, at length, and taking his seat, with a sort of quiet
deliberation, Joel said, in his drawling way, “You'll follow
us, Mike, and you can't be a thousand miles out of the way.”
Then he pulled from the shore with a quiet, steady stroke
of the sculls, that sent the skiff ahead with great rapidity,
though with much ease to himself.

Michael O'Hearn stood looking at the retiring skiff, in
silent admiration, for two or three minutes. He was quite
alone; for all the other boats were already two or three
miles on their way, and distance already prevented him
from seeing the mischief that was lurking in Joel's hypocritical
eyes.

“Follow yees!” soliloquized Mike—“The divil burn ye,
for a guessing yankee as ye ar'—how am I to follow with
such legs as the likes of these? If it was n't for the masther
and the missus, ra'al jontlemen and ladies they be, I'd turn
my back on ye, in the desert, and let ye find that Beaver
estate, in yer own disagreeable company. Ha! — well, I
must thry, and if the boat wont go, it'll be no fault of the
man that has a good disposition to make it.”

Mike now took his seat on a board that lay across the
gunwale of the skiff at a most inconvenient height, placed
two sculls in the water, one of which was six inches longer
than the other, made a desperate effort, and got his craft
fairly afloat. Now, Michael O'Hearn was not left-handed,
and, as usually happens with such men, the inequality between
the two limbs was quite marked. By a sinister accident,
too, it happened that the longest oar got into the
strongest hand, and there it would have staid to the end of
time, before Mike would think of changing it, on that account.
Joel, alone, sat with his face towards the head of
the lake, and he alone could see the dilemma in which the
county Leitrim-man was placed. Neither the captain nor
his wife thought of looking behind, and the yankee had all
the fun to himself. As for Mike, he succeeded in getting a
few rods from the land, when the strong arm and the longer
lever asserting their superiority, the skiff began to incline
to the westward. So intense, however, was the poor fellow's
zeal, that he did not discover the change in his course
until he had so far turned as to give him a glimpse of his

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

retiring master; then he inferred that all was right, and
pulled more leisurely. The result was, that in about ten
minutes, Mike was stopped by the land, the boat touching
the north shore again, two or three rods from the very point
whence it had started. The honest fellow got up, looked
around him, scratched his head, gazed wistfully after the
fast-receding boat of his master, and broke out in another
soliloquy.

“Bad luck to them that made ye, ye one-sided thing!”
he said, shaking his head reproachfully at the skiff: “there's
liberty for ye to do as ye ought, and ye 'll not be doing it,
just out of contrairiness. Why the divil can't ye do like
the other skiffs, and go where ye 're wanted, on the road towards
thim beavers? Och, ye 'll be sorry for this, when
ye 're left behind, out of sight!”

Then it flashed on Mike's mind that possibly some article
had been left in the hut, and the skiff had come back to
look after it; so, up he ran to the captain's deserted lodge,
entered it, was lost to view for a minute, then came in sight
again, scratching his head, and renewing his muttering—

“No,” he said, “divil a thing can I see, and it must be
pure contrairiness! Perhaps the baste will behave betther
next time, so I'll thry it ag'in, and give it an occasion.
Barring obstinacy, 't is as good-lookin' a skiff as the best of
them.”

Mike was as good as his word, and gave the skiff as fair
an opportunity of behaving itself as was ever offered to a
boat. Seven times did he quit the shore, and as often return
to it, gradually working his way towards the western shore,
and slightly down the lake. In this manner, Mike at length
got himself so far on the side of the lake, as to present a
barrier of land to the evil disposition of his skiff to incline
to the westward. It could go no longer in that direction,
at least.

“Divil burn ye,” the honest fellow cried, the perspiration
rolling down his face; “I think ye 'll be satisfied without
walking out into the forest, where I wish ye war' with all
my heart, amang the threes that made ye! Now, I'll see
if yer contrairy enough to run up a hill.”

Mike next essayed to pull along the shore, in the hope
that the sight of the land, and of the overhanging pines and

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

hemlocks, would cure the boat's propensity to turn in that
direction. It is not necessary to say that his expectations
were disappointed, and he finally was reduced to getting out
into the water, cool as was the weather, and of wading along
the shore, dragging the boat after him. All this Joel saw
before he passed out of sight, but no movement of his muscles
let the captain into the secret of the poor Irishman's
strait.

In the meanwhile, the rest of the flotilla, or brigade of
boats, as the captain termed them, went prosperously on
their way, going from one end of the lake to the other, in
the course of three hours. As one of the party had been
over the route several times already, there was no hesitation
on the subject of the point to which the boats were to proceed.
They all touched the shore near the stone that is now
called the “Otsego Rock,” beneath a steep wooded bank,
and quite near to the place where the Susquehannah glanced
out of the lake, in a swift current, beneath a high-arched
tracery of branches that were not yet clothed with leaves.

Here the question was put as to what had become of
Mike. His skiff was nowhere visible, and the captain felt
the necessity of having him looked for, before he proceeded
any further. After a short consultation, a boat manned by
two negroes, father and son, named Pliny the elder, and
Pliny the younger, or, in common parlance, “old Plin”
and “young Plin,” was sent back along the west-shore to
hunt him up. Of course, a hut was immediately prepared
for the reception of Mrs. Willoughby, upon the plain that
stretches across the valley, at this point. This was on the
site of the present village of Cooperstown, but just twenty
years anterior to the commencement of the pretty little shire
town that now exists on the spot.

It was night ere the two Plinies appeared towing Mike,
as their great namesakes of antiquity might have brought
in a Carthaginian galley, in triumph. The county Leitrim-man
had made his way with excessive toil about a league
ere he was met, and glad enough was he to see his succour
approach. In that day, the strong antipathy which now
exists between the black and the emigrant Irishman was
unknown, the competition for household service commencing
more than half a century later. Still, as the negro loved

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

fun constitutionally, and Pliny the younger was somewhat
of a wag, Mike did not entirely escape, scot-free.

“Why you drag 'im like ox, Irish Mike?” cried the
younger negro—“why you no row 'im like other folk?”

“Ah—you're as bad as the rest of 'em,” growled Mike.
“They tould me Ameriky was a mighty warm country,
and war-r-m I find it, sure enough, though the wather isn't
as warm as good whiskey. Come, ye black divils, and see
if ye can coax this contrairy cr'athure to do as a person
wants.”

The negroes soon had Mike in tow, and then they went
down the lake merrily, laughing and cracking their jokes,
at the Irishman's expense, after the fashion of their race.
It was fortunate for the Leitrim-man that he was accustomed
to ditching, though it may be questioned if the pores of
his body closed again that day, so very effectually had they
been opened. When he rejoined his master, not a syllable
was said of the mishap, Joel having the prudence to keep
his own secret, and even joining Mike in denouncing the
bad qualities of the boat. We will only add here, that a
little calculation entered into this trick, Joel perceiving that
Mike was a favourite, and wishing to bring him into discredit.

Early the next morning, the captain sent the negroes and
Mike down the Susquehannah a mile, to clear away some
flood-wood, of which one of the hunters had brought in a
report the preceding day. Two hours later, the boats left
the shore, and began to float downward with the current,
following the direction of a stream that has obtained its
name from its sinuosities.

In a few minutes the boats reached the flood-wood, where,
to Joel's great amusement, Mike and the negroes, the latter
having little more calculation than the former, had commenced
their operations on the upper side of the raft, piling
the logs on one another, with a view to make a passage
through the centre. Of course, there was a halt, the females
landing. Captain Willoughby now cast an eye round him
in hesitation, when a knowing look from Joel caught his
attention.

“This does not seem to be right,” he said—“cannot we
better it a little?”

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

“It's right wrong, captain,” answered Joel, laughing like
one who enjoyed other people's ignorance. “A sensible
crittur' would begin the work on such a job, at the lower
side of the raft.”

“Take the direction, and order things to suit yourself.”

This was just what Joel liked. Head-work before all
other work for him, and he set about the duty authoritatively
and with promptitude. After rating the negroes
roundly for their stupidity, and laying it on Mike without
much delicacy of thought or diction, over the shoulders of
the two blacks, he mustered his forces, and began to clear
the channel with intelligence and readiness.

Going to the lower side of the jammed flood-wood, he
soon succeeded in loosening one or two trees, which floated
away, making room for others to follow. By these means
a passage was effected in half an hour, Joel having the prudence
to set no more timber in motion than was necessary
to his purpose, lest it might choke the stream below. In
this manner the party got through, and, the river being high
at that season, by night the travellers were half-way to the
mouth of the Unadilla. The next evening they encamped
at the junction of the two streams, making their preparations
to ascend the latter the following morning.

The toil of the ascent, however, did not commence, until
the boats entered what was called the creek, or the small
tributary of the Unadilla, on which the beavers had erected
their works, and which ran through the “Manor.” Here,
indeed, the progress was slow and laborious, the rapidity
of the current and the shallowness of the water rendering
every foot gained a work of exertion and pain. Perseverance
and skill, notwithstanding, prevailed; all the boats
reaching the foot of the rapids, or straggling falls, on which
the captain had built his mills, about an hour before the sun
disappeared. Here, of course, the boats were left, a rude
road having been cut, by means of which the freights were
transported on a sledge the remainder of the distance.
Throughout the whole of this trying day, Joel had not only
worked head-work, but he had actually exerted himself
with his body. As for Mike, never before had he made
such desperate efforts. He felt all the disgrace of his adventure
on the lake, and was disposed to wipe it out by his

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exploits on the rivers. Thus Mike was ever loyal to his
employer. He had sold his flesh and blood for money, and
a man of his conscience was inclined to give a fair penny's-worth.
The tractable manner in which the boat had floated
down the river, it is true, caused him some surprise, as was
shown in his remark to the younger Pliny, on landing.

“This is a curious boat, afther all,” said Pat. “One
time it's all contrariness, and then ag'in it's as obliging as
one's own mother. It followed the day all's one like a
puppy dog, while yon on the big wather there was no more
dhriving it than a hog. Och! it's a faimale boat, by its
whims!”