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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851 [1843], Wyandotte, or, The hutted knoll, volume 1 (Lea & Blanchard, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf073v1].
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CHAPTER VI.

O! It is great for our country to die, where ranks are contending;
Bright is the wreath of our fame; Glory awaits us for aye—
Glory, that never is dim, shining on with light never ending—
Glory, that never shall fade, never, O! never away.
Percival.

Notwithstanding the startling intelligence that had so
unexpectedly reached it, and the warm polemical conflict
that had been carried on within its walls, the night passed
peacefully over the roof of the Hutted Knoll. At the return
of dawn, the two Plinys, both the Smashes, and all the
menials were again afoot; and, ere long, Mike, Saucy Nick,

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Joel, and the rest were seen astir, in the open fields, or in
the margin of the woods. Cattle were fed, cows milked,
fires lighted, and everything pursued its course, in the order
of May. The three wenches, as female negroes were then
termed, ex officio, in America, opened their throats, as was
usual at that hour, and were heard singing at their labours,
in a way nearly to deaden the morning carols of the tenants
of the forest. Mari', in particular, would have drowned the
roar of Niagara. The captain used to call her his clarion.

In due time, the superiors of the household made their
appearance. Mrs. Willoughby was the first out of her room,
as was ever the case when there was anything to be done.
On the present occasion, the “fatted calf” was to be killed,
not in honour of the return of a prodigal son, however, but
in behalf of one who was the pride of her eyes, and the joy
of her heart. The breakfast that she ordered was just the
sort of breakfast, that one must visit America to witness.
France can set forth a very scientific dejeuner à la fourchette,
and England has laboured and ponderous imitations;
but, for the spontaneous, superabundant, unsophisticated,
natural, all-sufficing and all-subduing morning's meal, take
America, in a better-class house, in the country, and you
reach the ne plus ultra, in that sort of thing. Tea, coffee,
and chocolate, of which the first and last were excellent,
and the second respectable; ham, fish, eggs, toast, cakes,
rolls, marmalades, &c. &c. &c., were thrown together in
noble confusion; frequently occasioning the guest, as Mr.
Woods naively confessed, an utter confusion of mind, as
to which he was to attack, when all were inviting and
each would be welcome.

Leaving Mrs. Willoughby in deep consultation with Mari',
on the subject of this feast, we will next look after the two
sweet girls whom we so abruptly deserted in the last chapter.
When Maud's glowing cheeks were first visible that
morning, signs of tears might have been discovered on them,
as the traces of the dew are found on the leaf of the rose;
but they completely vanished under the duties of the toilet,
and she came forth from her chamber, bright and cloudless
as the glorious May-morning, which had returned to cheer
the solitude of the manor. Beulah followed, tranquil, bland,

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and mild as the day itself, the living image of the purity of
soul, and deep affections, of her honest nature.

The sisters went into the breakfast-room, where they had
little lady-like offices of their own to discharge, too, in honour
of the guest; each employing herself in decorating the
table, and in seeing that it wanted nothing in the proprieties.
As their pleasing tasks were fulfilled, the discourse
did not flag between them. Nothing, however, had been
said, that made the smallest allusion to the conversation of
the past night. Neither felt any wish to revive that subject;
and, as for Maud, bitterly did she regret ever having broached
it. At times, her cheeks burned with blushes, as she
recalled her words; and yet she scarce knew the reason
why. The feeling of Beulah was different. She wondered
her sister could ever think she was a Meredith, and not a
Willoughby. At times she feared some unfortunate over-sight
of her own, some careless allusion, or indiscreet act,
might have served to remind Maud of the circumstances of
her real birth. Yet there was nothing in the last likely to
awaken unpleasant reflections, apart from the circumstance
that she was not truly a child of the family into which she
had been transplanted. The Merediths were, at least, as
honourable a family as the Willoughbys, in the ordinary
worldly view of the matter; nor was Maud, by any means,
a dependant, in the way of money. Five thousand pounds,
in the English funds, had been settled on her, by the marriage
articles of her parents; and twenty years of careful
husbandry, during which every shilling had been scrupulously
devoted to accumulation, had quite doubled the original
amount. So far from being penniless, therefore, Maud's
fortune was often alluded to by the captain, in a jocular
way, as if purposely to remind her that she had the means
of independence, and duties connected with it. It is true,
Maud, herself, had no suspicion that she had been educated
altogether by her “father,” and that her own money had
not been used for this purpose. To own the truth, she
thought little about it; knew little about it, beyond the fact,
that she had a fortune of her own, into the possession of
which she must step, when she attained her majority. How
she came by it, even, was a question she never asked;
though there were moments when tender regrets and

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affectionate melancholy would come over her heart, as she
thought of her natural parents, and of their early deaths.
Still, Maud implicitly reposed on the captain and Mrs.
Willoughby, as on a father and mother; and it was not
owing to them, or anything connected with their love, treatment,
words, or thoughts, that she was reminded that they
were not so in very fact, as well as in tenderness.

“Bob will think you made these plum sweetmeats, Beulah,”
said Maud, with a saucy smile, as she placed a glass
plate on the table—“He never thinks I can make anything
of this sort; and, as he is so fond of plums, he will be certain
to taste them; then you will come in for the praise!”

“You appear to think, that praise he must. Perhaps he
may not fancy them good.”

“If I thought so, I would take them away this instant,”
cried Maud, standing in the attitude of one in doubt. “Bob
does not think much of such things in girls, for he says
ladies need not be cooks; and yet when one does make a
thing of this sort, one would certainly like to have it well
made.”

“Set your heart at ease, Maud; the plums are delicious—
much the best we ever had, and we are rather famous for
them, you know. I'll answer for it, Bob will pronounce
them the best he has ever tasted.”

“And if he shouldn't, why should I care—that is, not
very much—about it. You know they are the first I ever
made, and one may be permitted to fail on a first effort.
Besides, a man may go to England, and see fine sights, and
live in great houses, and all that, and not understand when
he has good plum sweetmeats before him, and when bad. I
dare say there are many colonels in the army, who are
ignorant on this point.”

Beulah laughed, and admitted the truth of the remark;
though, in her secret mind, she had almost persuaded herself
that Bob knew everything.

“Do you not think our brother improved in appearance,
Maud,” she asked, after a short pause. “The visit to England
has done him that service, at least.”

“I don't see it, Beulah—I see no change. To me, Bob
is just the same to-day, that he has ever been; that is, ever

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since he grew to be a man—with boys, of course, it is different.
Ever since he was made a captain, I mean.”

As major Willoughby had reached that rank the day he
was one-and-twenty, the reader can understand the precise
date when Maud began to take her present views of his appearance
and character.

“I am surprised to hear you say so, Maud! Papa says
he is better `set up,' as he calls it, by his English drill, and
that he looks altogether more like a soldier than he did.”

“Bob has always had a martial look!” cried Maud,
quickly—“He got that in garrison, when a boy.”

“If so, I hope he may never lose it!” said the subject of
the remark, himself, who had entered the room unperceived,
and overheard this speech. “Being a soldier, one would
wish to look like what he is, my little critic.”

The kiss that followed, and that given to Beulah, were
no more than the usual morning salutations of a brother to
his sisters, slight touches of rosy cheeks; and yet Maud
blushed; for, as she said to herself, she had been taken by
surprise.

“They say listeners never hear good of themselves,” answered
Maud, with a vivacity that betokened confusion.
“Had you come a minute sooner, master Bob, it might have
been an advantage.”

“Oh! Beulah's remarks I do not fear; so long as I get
off unscathed from yours, Miss Maud, I shall think myself
a lucky fellow. But what has brought me and my training
into discussion, this morning?”

“It is natural for sisters to speak about their brother after
so long—”

“Tell him nothing about it, Beulah,” interrupted Maud.
“Let him listen, and eaves-drop, and find out as he may,
if he would learn our secrets. There, major Willoughby, I
hope that is a promise of a breakfast, which will satisfy even
your military appetite!”

“It looks well, indeed, Maud—and there, I perceive, are
some of Beulah's excellent plums, of which I am so fond—
I know they were made especially for me, and I must kiss
you, sister, for this proof of remembrance.”

Beulah, to whose simple mind it seemed injustice to appropriate
credit that belonged to another, was about to tell

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the truth; but an imploring gesture from her sister induced
her to smile, and receive the salute in silence.

“Has any one seen captain Willoughby and parson
Woods this morning?” inquired the major. “I left them
desperately engaged in discussion, and I really feel some
apprehension as to the remains left on the field of battle.”

“Here they both come,” cried Maud, glad to find the discourse
taking so complete a change; “and there is mamma,
followed by Pliny, to tell Beulah to take her station at the
coffee, while I go to the chocolate, leaving the tea to the
only hand that can make it so that my father will drink it.”

The parties mentioned entered the room, in the order
named; the usual salutations followed, and all took their
seats at table. Captain Willoughby was silent and thoughtful
at first, leaving his son to rattle on, in a way that betokened
care, in his view of the matter, quite as much as it
betokened light-heartedness in those of his mother and sisters.
The chaplain was rather more communicative than
his friend; but he, too, seemed restless, and desirous of
arriving at some point that was not likely to come uppermost,
in such a family party. At length, the impulses of
Mr. Woods got the better of his discretion, even, and he
could conceal his thoughts no longer.

“Captain Willoughby,” he said, in a sort of apologetic,
and yet simple and natural manner, “I have done little
since we parted, seven hours since, but think of the matter
under discussion.”

“If you have, my dear Woods, there has been a strong
sympathy between us; I have scarcely slept. I may say I
have thought of nothing else, myself, and am glad you have
broached the subject, again.”

“I was about to say, my worthy sir, that reflection, and
my pillow, and your sound and admirable arguments, have
produced an entire change in my sentiments. I think, now,
altogether with you.”

“The devil you do, Woods!” cried the captain, looking
up from his bit of dry toast, in astonishment. “Why, my
dear fellow—this is odd—excessively odd, if the truth must
be said.—To own the real state of the case, chaplain, you
have won me over, and I was just about to make proper
acknowledgments of your victory!”

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It need scarcely be added that the rest of the company
were not a little amazed at these cross-concessions, while
Maud was exceedingly amused. As for Mrs. Willoughby,
nothing laughable ever occurred in connection with her
husband; and then she would as soon think of assailing the
church itself, as to ridicule one of its ministers. Beulah
could see nothing but what was right in her father, at least;
and, as for the major, he felt too much concerned at this
unexpected admission of his father's, to perceive anything
but the error.

“Have you not overlooked the injunction of scripture,
my excellent friend?” rejoined the chaplain. “Have you
left to the rights of Cæsar, all their weight and authority?
`The king's name is a tower of strength.' ”

“Have not you, Woods, forgotten the superior claims of
reason and right, over those of accident and birth—that
man is to be considered as a reasoning being, to be governed
by principles and ever-varying facts, and not a
mere animal left to the control of an instinct that perishes
with its usefulness?”

“What can they mean, mother?” whispered Maud, scarce
able to repress the laughter that came so easily to one with
a keen sense of the ludicrous.

“They have been arguing about the right of parliament
to tax the colonies, I believe, my dear, and over-persuaded
each other, that's all. It is odd, Robert, that Mr. Woods
should convert your father.”

“No, my dearest mother, it is something even more serious
than that.” By this time, the disputants, who sat
opposite each other, were fairly launched into the discussion,
again, and heeded nothing that passed—“No, dearest
mother, it is far worse than even that. Pliny, tell my man
to brush the hunting-jacket—and, see he has his breakfast,
in good style—he is a grumbling rascal, and will give the
house a bad character, else—you need not come back, until
we ring for you—yes, mother, yes dearest girls, this is a
far more serious matter than you suppose, though it ought
not to be mentioned idly, among the people. God knows
how they may take it—and bad news flies swift enough, of
itself.”

“Merciful Providence!” exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby—
“What can you mean, my son?”

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“I mean, mother, that civil war has actually commenced
in the colonies, and that the people of your blood and race
are, in open arms, against the people of my father's native
country—in a word, against me.”

“How can that be, Robert? Who would dare to strike a
blow against the king?”

“When men get excited, and their passions are once inflamed,
they will do much, my mother, that they might not
dream of, else.”

“This must be a mistake! Some evil-disposed person
has told you this, Robert, knowing your attachment to the
crown.”

“I wish it were so, dear madam; but my own eyes have
seen—I may say my own flesh has felt, the contrary.”

The major then related what had happened, letting his
auditors into the secret of the true state of the country. It
is scarcely necessary to allude to the degree of consternation
and pain, with which he was heard, or to the grief which
succeeded.

“You spoke of yourself, dear Bob,” said Maud, naturally,
and with strong feeling—“You were not hurt, in this cruel,
cruel battle.”

“I ought not to have mentioned it, although I did certainly
receive a smart contusion—nothing more, I assure
you—here in the shoulder, and it now scarcely inconveniences
me.”

By this time all were listening, curiosity and interest
having silenced even the disputants, especially as this was
the first they had heard of the major's casualty. Then
neither felt the zeal which had warmed him in the previous
contest, but was better disposed to turn aside from its pursuit.

“I hope it did not send you to the rear, Bob?” anxiously
inquired the father.

“I was in the rear, sir, when I got the hurt,” answered
the major, laughing. “The rear is the post of honour, on a
retreat, you know, my dear father; and I believe our march
scarce deserves another name.”

“That is hard, too, on king's troops! What sort of
fellows had you to oppose, my son?”

“A rather intrusive set, sir. Their object was to persuade

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us to go into Boston, as fast as possible; and, it was a little
difficult, at times, not to listen to their arguments. If my
Lord Percy had not come out, with a strong party, and two
pieces of artillery, we might not have stood it much longer!
Our men were fagged like hunted deer, and the day proved
oppressively hot.”

“Artillery, too!” exclaimed the captain, his military
pride reviving a little, to unsettle his last convictions of
duty. “Did you open your columns, and charge your
enemies, in line?”

“It would have been charging air. No sooner did we
halt, than our foes dispersed; or, no sooner did we renew
the march, than every line of wall, along our route, became
a line of hostile muskets. I trust you will do us justice,
sir—you know the regiments, and can scarce think they
misbehaved.”

“British troops seldom do that; although I have known it
happen. No men, however, are usually more steady, and
then these provincials are formidable as skirmishers. In
that character, I know them, too. What has been the effect
of all this on the country, Bob?—You told us something of
it last night; complete the history.”

“The provinces are in a tumult. As for New England,
a flame of fire could scarce be more devastating; though I
think this colony is less excited. Still, here, men are arming
in thousands.”

“Dear me—dear me”—ejaculated the peacefully-inclined
chaplain—“that human beings can thus be inclined to self-destruction!”

“Is Tryon active?—What do the royal authorities, all
this time?”

“Of course they neglect nothing feasible; but, they must
principally rely on the loyalty and influence of the gentry,
until succour can arrive from Europe. If that fail them,
their difficulties will be much increased.”

Captain Willoughby understood his son; he glanced towards
his unconscious wife, as if to see how far she felt
with him.

“Our own families are divided, of course, much as they
have been in the previous discussions,” he added. “The
De Lanceys, Van Cortlandts, Philipses, Bayards, and most

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of that town connection, with a large portion of the Long
Island families, I should think, are with the crown; while
the Livingstons, Morrises, Schuylers, Rensselaers, and their
friends, go with the colony. Is not this the manner in which
they are divided?”

“With some limitations, sir. All the De Lanceys, with
most of their strong connections and influence, are with us
with the king, I mean—while all the Livingstons and Morrises
are against us. The other families are divided—as
with the Cortlandts, Schuylers, and Rensselaers. It is fortunate
for the Patroon, that he is a boy.”

“Why so, Bob?” asked the captain, looking inquiringly
up, at his son.

“Simply, sir, that his great estate may not be confiscated.
So many of his near connections are against us, that he
could hardly escape the contamination; and the consequences
would be inevitable.”

“Do you consider that so certain, sir? As there are two
sides to the question, may there not be two results to the
war?”

“I think not, sir. England is no power to be defied by
colonies insignificant as these.”

“This is well enough for a king's officer, major Willoughby;
but all large bodies of men are formidable when
they are right, and nations—these colonies are a nation, in
extent and number—are not so easily put down, when the
spirit of liberty is up and doing among them.”

The major listened to his father with pain and wonder.
The captain spoke earnestly, and there was a flush about
his fine countenance, that gave it sternness and authority.
Unused to debate with his father, especially when the latter
was in such a mood, the son remained silent, though his
mother, who was thoroughly loyal in her heart—meaning
loyal as applied to a sovereign—and who had the utmost
confidence in her husband's tenderness and consideration
for herself, was not so scrupulous.

“Why, Willoughby,” she cried, “you really incline to
rebellion! I, even I, who was born in the colonies, think
them very wrong to resist their anointed king, and sovereign
prince.”

“Ah, Wilhelmina,” answered the captain, more mildly,

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“you have a true colonist's admiration of home. But I was
old enough, when I left England, to appreciate what I saw
and knew, and cannot feel all this provincial admiration.”

“But surely, my dear captain, England is a very great
country,” interrupted the chaplain—“a prodigious country;
one that can claim all our respect and love. Look at the
church, now, the purified continuation of the ancient visible
authority of Christ on earth! It is the consideration of this
church that has subdued my natural love of birth-place, and
altered my sentiments.”

“All very true, and all very well, in your mouth, chaplain;
yet even the visible church may err. This doctrine
of divine right would have kept the Stuarts on the throne,
and it is not even English doctrine; much less, then, need
it be American. I am no Cromwellian, no republican, that
wishes to oppose the throne, in order to destroy it. A good
king is a good thing, and a prodigious blessing to a country;
still, a people needs look to its political privileges if it wish
to preserve them. You and I will discuss this matter another
time, parson. There will be plenty of opportunities,”
he added, rising, and smiling good-humouredly; “I must,
now, call my people together, and let them know this news.
It is not fair to conceal a civil war.”

“My dear sir!” exclaimed the major, in concern—“are
you not wrong?—precipitate, I mean—Is it not better to
preserve the secret, to give yourself time for reflection—to
a wait events?—I can discover no necessity for this haste.
Should you see things differently, hereafter, an incautious
word uttered at this moment might bring much motive for
regret.”

“I have thought of all this, Bob, during the night—for
hardly did I close my eyes—and you cannot change my
purpose. It is honest to let my people know how matters
stand; and, so far from being hazardous, as you seem to
think, I consider it wise. God knows what time will bring
forth; but, in every, or any event, fair-dealing can scarcely
injure him who practises it. I have already sent directions
to have the whole settlement collected on the lawn, at the
ringing of the bell, and I expect every moment we shall
hear the summons.”

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Against this decision there was no appeal. Mild and indulgent
as the captain habitually was, his authority was not
to be disputed, when he chose to exercise it. Some doubts
arose, and the father participated in them, for a moment, as
to what might be the effect on the major's fortunes; for,
should a very patriotic spirit arise among the men, two-thirds
of whom were native Americans, and what was more,
from the eastern colonies, he might be detained; or, at least,
betrayed on his return, and delivered into the hands of the
revolted authorities. This was a very serious consideration,
and it detained the captain in the house, some time after the
people were assembled, debating the chances, in the bosom
of his own family.

“We exaggerate the danger,” the captain, at length, exclaimed.
“Most of these men have been with me for years,
and I know not one among them who I think would wish to
injure me, or even you, my son, in this way. There is far
more danger in attempting to deceive them, than in making
them confidants. I will go out and tell the truth; then we
shall, at least, have the security of self-approbation. If
you escape the danger of being sold by Nick, my son, I
think you have little to fear from any other.”

“By Nick!” repeated half-a-dozen voices, in surprise—
“Surely, father—surely, Willoughby—surely, my dear captain,
you cannot suspect as old and tried a follower, as the
Tuscarora!”

“Ay, he is an old follower, certainly, and he has been
punished often enough, if he has not been tried. I have
never suffered my distrust of that fellow to go to sleep—it is
unsafe, with an Indian, unless you have a strong hold on
his gratitude.”

“But, Willoughby, he it was who found this manor for
us,” rejoined the wife. “Without him, we should never
have been the owners of this lovely place, this beaver-dam,
and all else that we so much enjoy.”

“True, my dear; and without good golden guineas, we
should not have had Nick.”

“But, sir, I pay as liberally as he can wish,” observed
the major. “If bribes will buy him, mine are as good as
another's.”

“We shall see—under actual circumstances, I think we

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shall be, in every respect, safer, by keeping nothing back,
than by telling all to the people.”

The captain now put on his hat, and issued through the
undefended gate-way, followed by every individual of his
family. As the summons had been general, when the
Willoughbys and the chaplain appeared on the lawn, every
living soul of that isolated settlement, even to infants in the
arms, was collected there. The captain commanded the
profound respect of all his dependants, though a few among
them did not love him. The fault was not his, however,
but was inherent rather in the untoward characters of the
disaffected themselves. His habits of authority were unsuited
to their habits of a presuming equality, perhaps; and
it is impossible for the comparatively powerful and affluent
to escape the envy and repinings of men, who, unable to
draw the real distinctions that separate the gentleman from
the low-minded and grovelling, impute their advantages to
accidents and money. But, even the few who permitted this
malign and corrupting tendency to influence their feelings,
could not deny that their master was just and benevolent,
though he did not always exhibit this justice and benevolence
precisely in the way best calculated to soothe their
own craving self-love, and exaggerated notions of assumed
natural claims. In a word, captain Willoughby, in the eyes
of a few unquiet and bloated imaginations among his people,
was obnoxious to the imputation of pride; and this because
he saw and felt the consequences of education, habits, manners,
opinions and sentiments that were hidden from those
who not only had no perception of their existence, but who
had no knowledge whatever of the qualities that brought
them into being. Pope's familiar line of “what can we
reason but from what we know?” is peculiarly applicable
to persons of this class; who are ever for dragging all things
down to standards created by their own ignorance; and
who, slaves of the basest and meanest passions, reason as
if they were possessors of all the knowledge, sensibilities
and refinements of their own country and times. Of this
class of men, comes the ordinary demagogue, a wretch
equally incapable of setting an example of any of the higher
qualities, in his own person or practice, and of appreciating
it when exhibited by others. Such men abound under all

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systems where human liberty is highly privileged, being the
moral fungi of freedom, as the rankest weeds are known to
be the troublesome and baneful productions of the richest
soils.

It was no unusual thing for the people of the Hutted Knoll
to be collected, in the manner we have described. We are
writing of a period, that the present enlightened generation
is apt to confound with the darker ages of American knowledge,
in much that relates to social usages at least, though
it escaped the long-buried wisdom of the Mormon bible, and
Miller's interpretations of the prophecies. In that day, men
were not so silly as to attempt to appear always wise; but
some of the fêtes and festivals of our Anglo-Saxon ancestors
were still tolerated among us; the all-absorbing and all
swallowing jubilee of “Independence-day” not having yet
overshadowed everything else in the shape of a holiday.
Now, captain Willoughby had brought with him to the
colonies the love of festivals that is so much more prevalent
in the old world than in the new; and it was by no means
an uncommon thing for him to call his people together, to
make merry on a birth-day, or the anniversary of some
battle in which he had been one of the victors. When he
appeared on the lawn, on the present occasion, therefore, it
was expected he was about to meet them with some such
announcement.

The inhabitants of the manor, or the estate of the Hutted
Knoll, might be divided into three great physical, and we
might add moral categories, or races, viz: the Anglo-Saxon,
the Dutch, both high and low, and the African. The first
was the most numerous, including the families of the millers,
most of the mechanics, and that of Joel Strides, the landoverseer;
the second was composed chiefly of labourers;
and the last were exclusively household servants, with the
exception of one of the Plinys, who was a ploughman,
though permitted to live with his kinsfolk in the Hut.
These divisions, Maud, in one of her merry humours, had
nick-named the three tribes; while her father, to make the
enumeration complete, had classed the serjeant, Mike, and
Jamie Allen, as supernumeraries.

The three tribes, and the three supernumeraries, then,
were all collected on the lawn, as the captain and his family

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approached. By a sort of secret instinct, too, they had
divided themselves into knots, the Dutch keeping a little
aloof from the Yankees; and the blacks, almost as a matter
of religion, standing a short distance in the rear, as became
people of their colour, and slaves. Mike and Jamie, however,
had got a sort of neutral position, between the two
great divisions of the whites, as if equally indifferent to their
dissensions or antipathies. In this manner all parties stood,
impatiently awaiting an announcement that had been so
long delayed. The captain advanced to the front, and removing
his hat, a ceremony he always observed on similar
occasions, and which had the effect to make his listeners
imitate his own courtesy, he addressed the crowd.

“When people live together, in a wilderness like this,”
commenced the captain, “there ought to be no secrets between
them, my friends, in matters that touch the common
interests. We are like men on a remote island; a sort of
colony of our own; and we must act fairly and frankly by
each other. In this spirit, then, I am now about to lay before
you, all that I know myself, concerning an affair of the
last importance to the colonies, and to the empire.” Here
Joel pricked up his ears, and cast a knowing glance at `the
miller,' a countryman and early neighbour of his own, who
had charge of the grinding for the settlement, and who went
by that appellation `par excellence!' “You all know,”
continued the captain, “that there have been serious difficulties
between the colonies and parliament, now, for more
than ten years; difficulties that have been, once or twice,
partially settled, but which have as often broken out, in some
new shape, as soon as an old quarrel was adjusted.”

Here the captain paused a moment; and Joel, who was
the usual spokesman of `the people,' took an occasion to
put a question.

“The captain means, I s'pose,” he said, in a sly, half-honest,
half-jesuitical manner, “the right of parliament to
tax us Americans, without our own consent, or our having
any members in their legyslatoore?

“I mean what you say. The tax on tea, the shutting the
port of Boston, and other steps, have brought larger bodies
of the king's troops among us, than have been usual. Boston,
as you probably know, has had a strong garrison, now, for

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some months. About six weeks since, the commander-in-chief
sent a detachment out as far as Concord, in New
Hampshire, to destroy certain stores. This detachment had
a meeting with the minute-men, and blood was drawn. A
running fight ensued, in which several hundreds have been
killed and wounded; and I think I know both sides sufficiently
well, to predict that a long and bloody civil war is
begun. These are facts you should know, and accordingly
I tell them to you.”

This simple, but explicit, account was received very differently,
by the different listeners. Joel Strides leaned forward,
with intense interest, so as not to lose a syllable.
Most of the New Englanders, or Yankees, paid great attention,
and exchanged meaning glances with each other, when
the captain had got through. As for Mike, he grasped a
shillelah that he habitually carried, when not at work, looking
round, as if waiting for orders from the captain, on
whom to begin. Jamie was thoughtful and grave, and, once
or twice, as the captain proceeded, he scratched his head in
doubt. The Dutch seemed curious, but bewildered, gaping
at each other like men who might make up their minds, if
you would give them time, but who certainly had not yet.
As for the blacks, their eyes began to open like saucers,
when they heard of the quarrel; when it got to the blows,
their mouths were all grinning with the delight of a thing
so exciting. At the mention of the number of the dead,
however, something like awe passed over them, and changed
their countenances to dismay. Nick alone was indifferent.
By the cold apathy of his manner, the captain saw at once
that the battle of Lexington had not been a secret to the
Tuscarora, when he commenced his own account. As the
captain always encouraged a proper familiarity in his de-pendants,
he now told them he was ready to answer any
questions they might think expedient to put to him, in gratification
of their natural curiosity.

“I s'pose this news comes by the major?” asked Joel.

“You may well suppose that, Strides. My son is here,
and we have no other means of getting it.”

“Will yer honour be wishful that we shoulther our fire-arms,
and go out and fight one of them sides, or t'other?”
demanded Mike.

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“I wish nothing of the sort, O'Hearn. It will be time
enough for us to take a decided part, when we get better
ideas of what is really going on.”

“Does'nt the captain, then, think matters have got far
enough towards a head, for the Americans to make up their
minds conclusively, as it might be?” put in Joel, in his very
worst manner.

“I think it will be wiser for us all to remain where we
are, and as we are. Civil war is a serious matter, Strides,
and no man should rush blindly into its dangers and difficulties.”

Joel looked at the miller, and the miller looked at Joel.
Neither said anything, however, at the time. Jamie Allen
had been out in the `forty-five,' when thirty years younger
than he was that day; and though he had his predilections
and antipathies, circumstances had taught him prudence.

“Will the pairliament, think ye, no be bidding the soldiery
to wark their will on the puir unairmed folk, up and
down the country, and they not provided with the means to
resist them?”

“Och, Jamie!” interrupted Mike, who did not appear to
deem it necessary to treat this matter with even decent respect—
“where will be yer valour and stomach, to ask sich
a question as that! A man is always reathy, when he has
his ar-r-ms and legs free to act accorthing to natur'. What
would a rigiment of throops do ag'in the likes of sich a place
as this? I'm sure it's tin years I've been in it, and I've
niver been able to find my way out of it. Set a souldier to
rowing on the lake forenent the rising sun, with orders to
get to the other ind, and a pretty job he'd make of marching
on that same! I knows it, for I've thried it, and it is
not a new beginner that will make much of sich oars;
barring he knows nothin' about them.”

This was not very intelligible to anybody but Joel, and he
had ceased to laugh at Mike's voyage, now, some six or
seven years; divers other disasters, all having their origin
in a similar confusion of ideas, having, in the interval, supplanted
that calamity, as it might be, seriatim. Still it was
an indication that Mike might be set down as a belligerent,
who was disposed to follow his leader into the battle, without
troubling him with many questions concerning the merits

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of the quarrel. Nevertheless, the county Leitrim-man acknowledged
particular principles, all of which had a certain
influence on his conduct, whenever he could get at them, to
render them available. First and foremost, he cordially
disliked a Yankee; and he hated an Englishman, both as an
oppressor and a heretic; yet he loved his master and all that
belonged to him. These were contradictory feelings, certainly;
but Mike was all contradiction, both in theory and
in practice.

The Anglo-Saxon tribe now professed a willingness to
retire, promising to think of the matter, a course against
which Mike loudly protested, declaring he never knew any
good come of thinking, when matters had got as far as
blows. Jamie, too, went off scratching his head, and he
was seen to make many pauses, that day, between the
shovels-full of earth he, from time to time, threw around
his plants, as if pondering on what he had heard. As for
the Dutch, their hour had not come. No one expected them
to decide the day they first heard of argument.

The negroes got together, and began to dwell on the
marvels of a battle in which so many christians had been
put to death. Little Smash placed the slain at a few thousands;
but Great Smash, as better became her loftier appellation
and higher spirit, affirmed that the captain had stated
hundreds of thousands; a loss, with less than which, as
she contended, no great battle could possibly be fought.

When the captain was housed, Serjeant Joyce demanded
an audience; the object of which was simply to ask for
orders, without the least reference to principles.

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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851 [1843], Wyandotte, or, The hutted knoll, volume 1 (Lea & Blanchard, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf073v1].
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