The appearance of a place in which the remainder of
one's life is to be past is always noted with interest on a
first visit. Thus it was that Mrs. Willoughby had been
observant and silent from the moment the captain informed
her that they had passed the line of his estate, and were
approaching the spot where they were to dwell. The stream
was so small, and the girding of the forest so close, that
there was little range for the sight; but the anxious wife
and mother could perceive that the hills drew together, at
this point, the valley narrowing essentially, that rocks began
to appear in the bed of the river, and that the growth of the
timber indicated fertility and a generous soil.

When the boat stopped, the little stream came brawling
down a ragged declivity, and a mill, one so arranged as to
grind and saw, both in a very small way, however, gave
the first signs of civilization she had beheld since quitting
the last hut near the Mohawk. After issuing a few orders,

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

the captain drew his wife's arm through his own, and hurried
up the ascent, with an eagerness that was almost
boyish, to show her what had been done towards the improvement
of the “Knoll.” There is a pleasure in diving
into a virgin forest and commencing the labours of civilization,
that has no exact parallel in any other human occupation.
That of building, or of laying out grounds, has
certainly some resemblance to it, but it is a resemblance so
faint and distant as scarcely to liken the enjoyment each
produces. The former approaches nearer to the feeling of
creating, and is far more pregnant with anticipations and
hopes, though its first effects are seldom agreeable, and are
sometimes nearly hideous. Our captain, however, had
escaped most of these last consequences, by possessing the
advantage of having a clearing, without going through the
usual processes of chopping and burning; the first of which
leaves the earth dotted, for many years, with unsightly
stumps, while the rains and snows do not wash out the hues
of the last for several seasons.

An exclamation betrayed the pleasure with which Mrs.
Willoughby got her first glimpse of the drained pond. It
was when she had clambered to the point of the rocks,
where the stream began to tumble downward into the valley
below. A year had done a vast deal for the place. The
few stumps and stubs which had disfigured the basin when
it was first laid bare, had all been drawn by oxen, and
burned. This left the entire surface of the four hundred
acres smooth and fit for the plough. The soil was the deposit
of centuries, and the inclination, from the woods to
the stream, was scarcely perceptible to the eye. In fact, it
was barely sufficient to drain the drippings of the winter's
snows. The form of the area was a little irregular; just
enough so to be picturesque; while the inequalities were
surprisingly few and trifling. In a word, nature had formed
just such a spot as delights the husbandman's heart, and
placed it beneath a sun which, while its fierceness is relieved
by winters of frost and snow, had a power to bring out all
its latent resources.

Trees had been felled around the whole area, with the
open spaces filled by branches, in a way to form what is
termed a brush fence. This is not a sightly object, and the

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

captain had ordered the line to be drawn within the woods,
so that the visible boundaries of the open land were the
virgin forest itself. His men had protested against this, a
fence, however unseemly, being in their view an indispensable
accessory to civilization. But the captain's authority,
if not his better taste, prevailed; and the boundary of felled
trees and brush was completely concealed in the back-ground
of woods. As yet, there was no necessity for cross-fences,
the whole open space lying in a single field. One
hundred acres were in winter wheat. As this grain had
been got in the previous autumn, it was now standing on
the finest and driest of the soil, giving an air of rich fertility
to the whole basin. Grass-seed had been sown along both
banks of the stream, and its waters were quietly flowing
between two wide belts of fresh verdure, the young plants
having already started in that sheltered receptacle of the
sun's rays. Other portions of the flat showed signs of improvement,
the plough having actually been at work for
quite a fortnight.

All this was far more than even the captain had expected,
and much more than his wife had dared to hope. Mrs.
Willoughby had been accustomed to witness the slow progress
of a new settlement; but never before had she seen
what might be done on a beaver-dam. To her all appeared
like magic, and her first question would have been to ask
her husband to explain what had been done with the trees
and stumps, had not her future residence caught her eye.
Captain Willoughby had left his orders concerning the
house, previously to quitting the Knoll; and he was now
well pleased to perceive that they had been attended to. As
this spot will prove the scene of many of the incidents we
are bound to relate, it may be proper, here, to describe it, at
some length.

The hillock that rose out of the pond, in the form of a
rocky little island, was one of those capricious formations
that are often met with on the surface of the earth. It stood
about thirty rods from the northern side of the area, very
nearly central as to its eastern and western boundaries, and
presented a slope inclining towards the south. Its greatest
height was at its northern end, where it rose out of the rich
alluvion of the soil, literally a rock of some forty feet in

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

perpendicular height, having a summit of about an acre of
level land, and falling off on its three sides; to the east and
west precipitously; to the south quite gently and with regularity.
It was this accidental formation which had induced
the captain to select the spot as the site of his residence;
for dwelling so far from any post, and in a place so difficult
of access, something like military defences were merely
precautions of ordinary prudence. While the pond remained,
the islet was susceptible of being made very strong against
any of the usual assaults of Indian warfare; and, now that
the basin was drained, it had great advantages for the same
purpose. The perpendicular rock to the north, even over-hung
the plain. It was almost inaccessible; while the
formation on the other sides, offered singular facilities, both
for a dwelling and for security. All this the captain, who
was so familiar with the finesse of Indian stratagem, had
resolved to improve in the following manner:

In the first place, he directed the men to build a massive
wall of stone, for a hundred and fifty feet in length, and six
feet in height. This stretched in front of the perpendicular
rock, with receding walls to its verge. The latter were
about two hundred feet in length, each. This was enclosing
an area of two hundred, by one hundred and fifty feet,
within a blind wall of masonry. Through this wall there
was only a single passage; a gate-way, in the centre of its
southern face. The materials had all been found on the
hill itself, which was well covered with heavy stones.
Within this wall, which was substantially laid, by a Scotch
mason, one accustomed to the craft, the men had erected a
building of massive, squared, pine timber, well secured by
cross partitions. This building followed the wall in its
whole extent, was just fifteen feet in elevation, without the
roof, and was composed, in part, by the wall itself; the
latter forming nearly one-half its height, on the exterior.
The breadth of this edifice was only twenty feet, clear of
the stones and wood-work; leaving a court within of about
one hundred by one hundred and seventy-five feet in extent.
The roof extended over the gateway even; so that the space
within was completely covered, the gates being closed. This
much had been done during the preceding fall and winter;
the edifice presenting an appearance of rude completeness

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

on the exterior. Still it had a sombre and goal-like air;
there being nothing resembling a window visible; no aperture,
indeed, on either of its outer faces, but the open gate-way,
of which the massive leaves were finished, and placed
against the adjacent walls, but which were not yet hung.
It is scarcely necessary to say, this house resembled barracks,
more than an ordinary dwelling. Mrs. Willoughby
stood gazing at it, half in doubt whether to admire or to
condemn, when a voice, within a few yards, suddenly drew
her attention in another direction.

“How you like him?” asked Nick, who was seated on a
stone, at the margin of the stream, washing his feet, after a
long day's hunt. “No t'ink him better dan beaver skin?
Cap'in know all 'bout him; now he give Nick some more
last quit-rent?”

“Last, indeed, it will be, then, Nick; for I have already
paid you twice for your rights.”

“Discovery wort' great deal, cap'in—see what great man
he make pale-face.”

“Ay, but your discovery, Nick, is not of that sort.”

“What sort, den?” demanded Nick, with the rapidity of
lightning. “Give him back 'e beaver, if you no like he
discovery. Grad to see 'em back, ag'in; skin higher price
dan ever.”

“Nick, you 're a cormorant, if there ever was one in this
world! Here—there is a dollar for you; the quit-rent is
paid for this year, at least. It ought to be for the last
time.”

“Let him go for all summer, cap'in. Yes, Nick wonderful
commerant! no such eye he got, among Oneida!”

Here the Tuscarora left the side of the stream, and came
up on the rock, shaking hands, good-humouredly, with Mrs.
Willoughby, who rather liked the knave; though she knew
him to possess most of the vices of his class.

“He very han'som beaver-dam,” said Nick, sweeping his
hand gracefully over the view; “bye 'nd bye, he'll bring
potatoe, and corn, and cider—all 'e squaw want. Cap'in
got good fort, too. Old soldier love fort; like to live in
him.”

“The day may come, Nick, when that fort may serve us
all a good turn, out here in the wilderness,” Mrs. Willoughby

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

observed, in a somewhat melancholy tone; for her tender
thoughts naturally turned towards her youthful and innocent
daughters.

The Indian gazed at the house, with that fierce intentness
which sometimes glared, in a manner that had got to be, in its
ordinary aspects, dull and besotted. There was a startling
intelligence in his eye, at such moments; the feelings of
youth and earlier habit, once more asserting their power.
Twenty years before, Nick had been foremost on the war-path;
and what was scarcely less honourable, among the
wisest around the council-fire. He was born a chief, and
had made himself an outcast from his tribe, more by the
excess of ungovernable passions, than from any act of base
meanness.

“Cap'in tell Nick, now, what he mean by building such
house, out here, among ole beaver bones?” he said, sideling
up nearer to his employer, and gazing with some curiosity
into his face.

“What do I mean, Nick?—Why I mean to have a place
of safety to put the heads of my wife and children in, at
need. The road to Canada is not so long, but a red-skin
can make one pair of moccasins go over it. Then, the
Oneidas and Mohawks are not all children of heaven.”

“No pale-face rogue, go about, I s'pose?” said Nick, sarcastically.

“Yes, there are men of that class, who are none the
worse for being locked out of one's house, at times. But,
what do you think of the hut?—You know I call the place
the `Hut,' the Hutted Knoll.”

“He hole plenty of beaver, if you cotch him!—But no
water left, and he all go away. Why you make him stone,
first; den you make him wood, a'ter; eh? Plenty rock;
plenty tree.”

“Why, the stone wall can neither be cut away, nor set
fire to, Nick; that 's the reason. I took as much stone as
was necessary, and then used wood, which is more easily
worked, and which is also drier.”

“Good—Nick t'ought just dat. How you get him water
if Injen come?”

“There 's the stream, that winds round the foot of the

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

hill, Nick, as you see; and then there is a delicious spring,
within one hundred yards of the very gate.”

“Which side of him?” asked Nick, with his startling
rapidity.

“Why, here, to the left of the gate, and a little to the
right of the large stone—”

“No—no,” interrupted the Indian, “no left—no right—
which side—inside gate; outside gate?”

“Oh! — the spring is outside the gate, certainly; but
means might be found to make a covered way to it; and
then the stream winds round directly underneath the rocks,
behind the house, and water could be raised from that, by
means of a rope. Our rifles would count for something,
too, in drawing water, as well as in drawing blood.”

“Good.—Rifle got long arm. He talk so, Ingin mind
him. When you t'ink red-skin come ag'in your fort, cap'in,
now you got him done?”

“A long time first, I hope, Nick. We are at peace with
France, again; and I see no prospect of any new quarrel,
very soon. So long as the French and English are at
peace, the red men will not dare to touch either.”

“Dat true as missionary! What a soldier do, cap'in,
if so much peace? Warrior love a war-path.”

“I wish it were not so, Nick. But my hatchet is buried,
I hope, for ever.”

“Nick hope cap'in know where to find him, if he want
to? Very bad to put anyt'ing where he forget; partic'larly
tomahawk. Sometime quarrel come, like rain, when you
don't tink.”

“Yes, that also cannot be denied. Yet, I fear the next
quarrel will be among ourselves, Nick.—The government
at home, and the people of the colonies, are getting to have
bad blood between them.”

“Dat very queer! Why pale-face mo'der and pale-face
darter no love one anoder, like red-skin?”

“Really, Nick, you are somewhat interrogating this
evening; but, my squaw must be a little desirous of seeing
the inside of her house, as well as its outside, and I must
refer you to that honest fellow, yonder, for an answer. His
name is Mike; I hope he and you will always be good
friends.”

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

So saying, the captain nodded in a friendly manner, and
led Mrs. Willoughby towards the hut, taking a foot-path
that was already trodden firm, and which followed the
sinuosities of the stream, to which it served as a sort of a
dyke. Nick took the captain at his word, and turning
about he met the county Leitrim-man, with an air of great
blandness, thrusting out a hand, in the pale-face fashion, as
a sign of amity, saying, at the same time—

“How do, Mike?—Sago—Sago—grad you come—good
fellow to drink Santa Cruz, wid Nick.”

“How do, Mike!” exclaimed the other, looking at the
Tuscarora with astonishment, for this was positively the first
red man the Irishman had ever seen. “How do Mike!
Ould Nick be ye?—well—ye look pretty much as I expected
to see you—pray, how did ye come to know my
name?”

“Nick know him—know every t'ing. Grad to see you,
Mike—hope we live together like good friend, down yonder,
up here, over dere.”

“Ye do, do ye! Divil burn me, now, if I want any sich
company. Ould Nick's yer name, is it?”

“Old Nick — young Nick — saucy Nick; all one, all
to'ther. Make no odd what you call; I come.”

“Och, yer a handy one! Divil trust ye, but ye 'll come
when you arn't wanted, or yer not of yer father's own
family. D 'ye live hereabouts, masther Ould Nick?”

“Live here—out yonder—in he hut, in he wood—where
he want. Make no difference to Nick.”

Michael now drew back a pace or two, keeping his eyes
fastened on the other intently, for he actually expected to
see some prodigious and sudden change in his appearance.
When he thought he had got a good position for manly defence
or rapid retreat, as either might become necessary,
the county Leitrim-man put on a bolder front and resumed
the discourse.

“If it's so indifferent to ye where ye dwell,” asked
Mike, “why can't you keep at home, and let a body carry
these cloaks and bundles of the missuses, out yonder to the
house wither she's gone?”

“Nick help carry 'em. Carry t'ing for dat squaw hundred
time.”

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

“That what! D'ye mane Madam Willoughby by yer
blackguard name?”

“Yes; cap'in wife—cap'in squaw, mean him. Carry
bundle, basket, hundred time for him.”

“The Lord preserve me, now, from sich atrocity and
impudence!” laying down the cloaks and bundles, and
facing the Indian, with an appearance of great indignation—
“Did a body ever hear sich a liar! Why, Misther Ould
Nick, Madam Willoughby would n't let the likes of ye
touch the ind of her garments. You would n't get the
liberty to walk in the same path with her, much less to
carry her bundles. I'll answer for it, ye 're a great liar,
now, ould Nick, in the bottom of your heart.”

“Nick great liar,” answered the Indian, good-naturedly;
for he so well knew this was his common reputation, that
he saw no use in denying it. “What of dat? Lie good
sometime.”

“That's another! Oh, ye animal; I've a great mind to
set upon ye at once, and see what an honest man can do
wid ye, in fair fight! If I only knew what ye 'd got about
yer toes, now, under them fine-looking things ye wear for
shoes, once, I 'd taich ye to talk of the missus, in this
style.”

“Speak as well as he know how. Nick never been to
school. Call 'e squaw, good squaw. What want more?”

“Get out! If ye come a foot nearer, I'll be at ye, like
a dog upon a bull, though ye gore me. What brought ye
into this paiceful sittlement, where nothing but virtue and
honesty have taken up their abode?”

What more Mike might have said is not known, as Nick
caught a sign from the captain, and went loping across the
flat, at his customary gait, leaving the Irishman standing
on the defensive, and, to own the truth, not sorry to be rid
of him. Unfortunately for the immediate enlightenment of
Mike's mind, Joel overheard the dialogue, and comprehending
its meaning, with his native readiness, he joined
his companion in a mood but little disposed to clear up th
error.

“Did ye see that crathure?” asked Mike, with emphasis.

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

“Sartain—he is often seen here, at the Hut. He may be
said to live here, half his time.”

“A pritty hut, then, ye must have of it! Why do ye
tolerate the vagabond? He's not fit for Christian society.”

“Oh! he's good company, sometimes, Mike. When
you know him better, you'll like him better. Come; up
with the bundles, and let us follow. The captain is looking
after us, as you see.”

“Well may he look, to see us in sich company!—Will
he har-r-m the missus?”

“Not he. I tell you, you'll like him yourself when you
come to know him.”

“If I do, burn me! Why, he says himself, that he's
Ould Nick, and I'm sure I never fancied the crathure but
it was in just some such for-r-m. Och! he's ill-looking
enough, for twenty Ould Nicks.”

Lest the reader get an exaggerated notion of Michael's
credulity, it may be well to say that Nick had painted a
few days before, in a fit of caprice, and that one-half of his
face was black, and the other a deep red, while each of his
eyes was surrounded with a circle of white, all of which
had got to be a little confused in consequence of a night or
two of orgies, succeeded by mornings in which the toilet
had been altogether neglected. His dress, too, a blanket
with tawdry red and yellow trimmings, with ornamented
leggings and moccasins to correspond, had all aided in
maintaining the accidental mystification. Mike followed
his companion, growling out his discontent, and watching
the form of the Indian, as the latter still went loping over
the flat, having passed the captain, with a message to the
barns.

“I'll warrant ye, now, the captain wouldn't tolerate
such a crathure, but he's sent him off to the woods, as ye
may see, like a divil, as he is! To think of such a thing's
spakeing to the missus! Will I fight him?—That will I,
rather than he'll say an uncivil word to the likes of her!
He's claws they tell me, though he kapes them so well covered
in his fine brogues; divil burn me, but I'd grapple
him by the toes.”

Joel now saw how deep was Michael's delusion, and
knowing it must soon be over, he determined to make a

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

merit of necessity, by letting his friend into the truth, thereby
creating a confidence that would open the way to a
hundred future mischievous scenes.

“Claws!” he repeated, with an air of surprise—“And
why do you think an Injin has claws, Mike?”

“An Injin! D'ye call that miscoloured crathure an Injin,
Joel. Isn't it one of yer yankee divils?”

“Out upon you, for an Irish ninny. Do you think the
captain would board a devil! The fellow's a Tuscarora,
and is as well known here as the owner of the Hut himself.
It's Saucy Nick.”

“Yes, saucy Ould Nick—I had it from his very mout',
and even the divil would hardly be such a blackguard as to
lie about his own name. Och! he's a roarer, sure enough;
and then for the tusks you mintion, I didn't see 'em, with
my eyes; but the crathure has a mouth that might hould a
basket-full.”

Joel now perceived that he must go more seriously to
work to undeceive his companion. Mike honestly believed
he had met an American devil, and it required no little argumentation
to persuade him of the contrary. We shall
leave Joel employed in this difficult task, in which he finally
succeeded, and follow the captain and his wife to the hut.

The lord and lady of the manor examined everything
around their future residence, with curious eyes. Jamie
Allen, the Scotch mason mentioned, was standing in front
of the house, to hear what might be said of his wall, while
two or three other mechanics betrayed some such agitation
as the tyro in literature manifests, ere he learns what the
critics have said of his first work. The exterior gave great
satisfaction to the captain. The wall was not only solid
and secure, but it was really handsome. This was in some
measure owing to the quality of the stones, but quite as
much to Jamie's dexterity in using them. The wall and
chimneys, of the latter of which there were no less than
six, were all laid in lime, too; it having been found necessary
to burn some of the material to plaster the interior.
Then the gates were massive, being framed in oak, filled
in with four-inch plank, and might have resisted a very
formidable assault. Their strong iron hinges were all
in their places, but the heavy job of hanging had been

[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

deferred to a leisure moment, when all the strength of the
manor might be collected for that purpose. There they
stood, inclining against the wall, one on each side of the
gate-way, like indolent sentinels on post, who felt too secure
from attack to raise their eyes.

The different mechanics crowded round the captain, each
eager to show his own portion of what had been done. The
winter had not been wasted, but, proper materials being in
abundance, and on the spot, captain Willoughby had every
reason to be satisfied with what he got for his money.
Completely shut out from the rest of the world, the men had
worked cheerfully and with little interruption; for their labours
composed their recreation. Mrs. Willoughby found the
part of the building her family was to occupy, with the usual
offices, done and furnished. This comprised all the front
on the eastern side of the gate-way, and most of the wing,
in the same half, extending back to the cliff. It is true, the
finish was plain; but everything was comfortable. The
ceilings were only ten feet high certainly, but it was thought
prodigious in the colony in that day; and then the plastering
of Jamie was by no means as unexceptionable as his
stone-work; still every room had its two coats, and white-wash
gave them a clean and healthful aspect. The end of
the wing that came next the cliff was a laundry, and a pump
was fitted, by means of which water was raised from the
rivulet. Next came the kitchen, a spacious and comfortable
room of thirty by twenty feet; an upper-servant's apartment
succeeded; after which were the bed-rooms of the family,
a large parlour, and a library, or office, for the captain. As
the entire range, on this particular side of the house, extended
near or quite two hundred and fifty feet, there was no
want of space or accommodation.

The opposite, or western half of the edifice, was devoted
to more homely uses. It contained an eating-room and
divers sleeping-rooms for the domestics and labourers, besides
store-rooms, garners, and omnium gatherums of all
sorts. The vast ranges of garrets, too, answered for various
purposes of household and farming economy. All the windows,
and sundry doors, opened into the court, while the
whole of the exterior wall, both wooden and stone, presented
a perfect blank, in the way of outlets. It was the captain's

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

intention, however, to cut divers loops through the logs, at
some convenient moment, so that men stationed in the garrets
might command the different faces of the structure with
their musketry. But, like the gates, these means of defence
were laid aside for a more favourable opportunity.

Our excellent matron was delighted with her domestic
arrangements. They much surpassed any of the various
barracks in which she had dwelt, and a smile of happiness
beamed on her handsome face, as she followed her husband
from room to room, listening to his explanations. When
they entered their private apartments, and these were furnished
and ready to receive them, respect caused the rest
to leave them by themselves, and once more they found that
they were alone.

“Well, Wilhelmina,” asked the gratified husband—gratified,
because he saw pleasure beaming in the mild countenance
and serene blue eyes of one of the best wives living—
“Well, Wilhelmina,” he asked, “can you give up Albany,
and all the comforts of your friends' dwellings, to be satisfied
in a home like this? It is not probable I shall ever
build again, whatever Bob may do, when he comes after
me. This structure, then, part house, part barrack, part
fort, as it is, must be our residence for the remainder of our
days. We are hutted for life.”

“It is all-sufficient, Willoughby. It has space, comfort,
warmth, coolness and security. What more can a wife and
a mother ask, when she is surrounded by those she most
loves? Only attend to the security, Hugh. Remember how
far we are removed from any succour, and how sudden and
fierce the Indians are in their attacks. Twice have we,
ourselves, been near being destroyed by surprises, from
which accident, or God's providence, protected us, rather
than our own vigilance. If this could happen in garrisons,
and with king's troops around us, how much more easily
might it happen here, with only common labourers to watch
what is going on!”

“You exaggerate the danger, wife. There are no Indians,
in this part of the country, who would dare to molest a settlement
like ours. We count thirteen able-bodied men in
all, besides seven women, and could use seventeen or eighteen
muskets and rifles on an emergency. No tribe would

[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

dare commence hostilities, in a time of general peace, and
so near the settlements too; and, as to stragglers, who
might indeed murder to rob, we are so strong, ourselves,
that we may sleep in peace, so far as they are concerned.”

“One never knows that, dearest Hugh. A marauding
party of half-a-dozen might prove too much for many times
their own number, when unprepared. I do hope you will
have the gates hung, at least; should the girls come here,
in the autumn, I could not sleep without hanging the gates.”

“Fear nothing, love,” said the captain, kissing his wife,
with manly tenderness. “As for Beulah and Maud, let them
come when they please; we shall always have a welcome
for them, and no place can be safer than under their father's
eyes.”

“I care not so much for myself, Hugh, but do not let the
gates be forgotten until the girls come.”

“Everything shall be done as you desire, wife of mine,
though it will be a hard job to get two such confounded
heavy loads of wood on their hinges. We must take some
day when everybody is at home, and everybody willing to
work. Saturday next, I intend to have a review; and, once
a month, the year round, there will be a muster, when all
the arms are to be cleaned and loaded, and orders given
how to act in case of an alarm. An old soldier would be
disgraced to allow himself to be run down by mere vagabonds.
My pride is concerned, and you may sleep in
peace.”

“Yes, do, dearest Hugh.”—Then the matron proceeded
through the rooms, expressing her satisfaction at the care
which had been had for her comfort, in her own rooms in
particular.

Sooth to say, the interior of the Hut presented that odd
contrast between civilization and rude expedients, which so
frequently occurs on an American frontier, where persons
educated in refinement often find themselves brought in close
collision with savage life. Carpets, in America, and in the
year of our Lord 1765, were not quite as much a matter of
course in domestic economy, as they are to-day. Still they
were to be found, though it was rare, indeed, that they covered
more than the centre of the room. One of these great
essentials, without which no place can appear comfortable

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

in a cold climate, was spread on the floor of Mrs. Willoughby's
parlour—a room that served for both eating and as a
sala, the Knight's Hall of the Hut, measuring twenty by
twenty-four feet—though in fact this carpet concealed exactly
two-thirds of the white clean plank. Then the chairs were
massive and even rich, while one might see his face in the
dark mahogany of the tables. There were cellarets—the
captain being a connoisseur in wines—bureaus, secretaries,
beaufets, and other similar articles, that had been collected
in the course of twenty years' housekeeping, and scattered
at different posts, were collected, and brought hither by
means of sledges, and the facilities of the water-courses.
Fashion had little to do with furniture, in that simple age,
when the son did not hesitate to wear even the clothes of
the father, years and years after the tailor had taken leave
of them. Massive old furniture, in particular, lasted for
generations, and our matron now saw many articles that
had belonged to her grandfather assembled beneath the first
roof that she could ever strictly call her own.

Mrs. Willoughby took a survey of the offices last. Here
she found, already established, the two Plinies, with Mari',
the sister of the elder Pliny, Bess, the wife of the younger,
and Mony—alias Desdemona—a collateral of the race, by
ties and affinities that garter-king-at-arms could not have
traced genealogically; since he would have been puzzled
to say whether the woman was the cousin, or aunt, or step-daughter
of Mari', or all three. All the women were hard
at work, Bess singing in a voice that reached the adjoining
forest. Mari'—this name was pronounced with a strong
emphasis on the last syllable, or like Maria, without the
final vowel—Mari' was the head of the kitchen, even Pliny
the elder standing in salutary dread of her authority; and
her orders to her brother and nephew were pouring forth,
in an English that was divided into three categories; the
Anglo-Saxon, the Low Dutch, and the Guinea dialect; a
medley that rendered her discourse a droll assemblage of
the vulgar and the classical.

“Here, niggers,” she cried, “why you don't jump about
like Paus dance? Ebbery t'ing want a hand, and some
want a foot. Plate to wash, crockery to open, water to

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

b'ile, dem knife to clean, and not'ing missed. Lord, here's
a madam, and 'e whole kitchen in a diffusion.”

“Well, Mari',” exclaimed the captain, good-naturedly,
“here you are, scolding away as if you had been in the
place these six months, and knew all its faults and weaknesses.”

“Can't help a scold, master, in sich a time as dis —
come away from dem plates, you Great Smash, and let a
proper hand take hold on 'em.”

Here we ought to say, that captain Willoughby had christened
Bess by the sobriquet of Great Smash, on account of
her size, which fell little short of two hundred, estimated in
pounds, and a certain facility she possessed in destroying
crockery, while 'Mony went by the milder appellation of
“Little Smash;” not that bowls or plates fared any better
in her hands, but because she weighed only one hundred
and eighty.

“Dis is what I tell 'em, master,” continued Mari', in a remonstrating,
argumentative sort of a tone, with dogmatism
and respect singularly mingled in her manner — “Dis,
massa, just what I tell 'em all. I tell 'em, says I, this is
Hunter Knoll, and not Allbonny—here no store—no place
to buy t'ing if you break 'em; no good woman who know
ebbery t'ing, to tell you where to find t'ing, if you lose him.
If dere was only good woman, dat somet'ing; but no fortun'-teller
out here in de bushes—no, no—when a silber spoon
go, here, he go for good and all—Goody, massy”—staring
at something in the court—“what he call dat, sa?”

“That—oh! that is only an Indian hunter I keep about
me, to bring us game—you'll never have an empty spit,
Mari', as long as he is with us. Fear nothing; he will not
harm you. His name is Nick.”

“De Ole Nick, massa?”

“No, only Saucy Nick. The fellow is a little slovenly
to-day in his appearance, and you see he has brought already
several partridges, besides a rabbit. We shall have venison,
in the season.”

Here all the negroes, after staring at Nick, quite a minute,
set up a loud shout, laughing as if the Tuscarora had
been created for their special amusement. Although the
captain was somewhat of a martinet in his domestic

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discipline, it had ever altogether exceeded his authority, or his
art, to prevent these bursts of merriment; and he led his
wife away from the din, leaving Mari', Great Smash, and
Little Smash, with the two Plinies, in ecstasies at their own
uproar. Burst succeeded burst, until the Indian walked
away, in offended dignity.

Such was the commencement of the domestication of the
Willoughbys at the Hutted Knoll. The plan of our tale
does not require us to follow them minutely for the few
succeeding years, though some further explanation may be
necessary to show why this settlement varied a little from
the ordinary course.

That very season, or, in the summer of 1765, Mrs. Willoughby
inherited some real estate in Albany, by the death
of an uncle, as well as a few thousand pounds currency, in
ready money. This addition to his fortune made the captain
exceedingly comfortable; or, for that day, rich; and it
left him to act his pleasure as related to his lands. Situated
as these last were, so remote from other settlements as to
render highways, for some time, hopeless, he saw no use in
endeavouring to anticipate the natural order of things. It
would only create embarrassment to raise produce that
could not be sent to market; and he well knew that a population
of any amount could not exist, in quiet, without the
usual attendants of buying and selling. Then it suited his
own taste to be the commander-in-chief of an isolated establishment
like this; and he was content to live in abundance,
on his flats, feeding his people, his cattle, and even his hogs
to satiety, and having wherewithal to send away the occasional
adventurer, who entered his clearing, contented and
happy.

Thus it was that he neither sold nor leased. No person
dwelt on his land who was not a direct dependant, or hireling,
and all that the earth yielded he could call his own.
Nothing was sent abroad for sale but cattle. Every year,
a small drove of fat beeves and milch cows found their way
through the forest to Albany, and the proceeds returned in
the shape of foreign supplies. The rents, and the interests
on bonds, were left to accumulate, or were applied to aid
Robert in obtaining a new step in the army. Lands began
to be granted nearer and nearer to his own, and here and

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there some old officer like himself, or a solitary farmer, began
to cut away the wilderness; but none in his immediate
vicinity.

Still the captain did not live altogether as a hermit. He
visited Edmeston of Mount Edmeston, a neighbour less
than fifty miles distant; was occasionally seen at Johnson
Hall, with Sir William; or at the bachelor establishment
of Sir John, on the Mohawk; and once or twice he so far
overcame his indolence, as to consent to serve as a member
for a new county, that was called Tryon, after a ruling
governor.