MR. NORTON.
In order to bring Mr. Norton more distinctly before the reader, it is
necessary to give a few particulars of his previous life.
He was the son of a New England farmer. His father had given him a
good moral and religious training and the usual common school
education, but, being poor and having a large family to provide for,
he had turned him adrift upon the sea of life, to shape his own course
and win his own fortunes. These, in some respects, he was well
calculated to do.
He possessed a frame hardened by labor, and, to a native shrewdness
and self reliance, added traits which threw light and warmth into his
character. His sympathies were easily roused by suffering and want. He
spurned everything mean and ungenerous,--was genial in disposition,
indeed brimming with mirthfulness, and, in every situation, attracted
to himself numerous friends. He was, moreover, an excellent
blacksmith.
After leaving his father's roof, for a half score of years, he was led
into scenes of temptation and danger. But, having passed through
various fortunes, the whispers of the internal monitor, and the voice
of a loving wife, drew him into better and safer paths. He betook
himself unremittingly to the duties of his occupation.
By the influence of early parental training, and the teachings of the
Heavenly Spirit, he was led into a religious life. He dedicated
himself unreservedly to Christ. This introduced him into a new sphere
of effort, one, in which his naturally expansive nature found free
scope. He became an active, devoted, joyous follower of the Great
Master, and, thenceforward, desired nothing so much as to labor in his
service.
About a year after this important change, a circumstance occurred
which altered the course of his outward life.
It happened that a stranger came to pass a night at his, house. During
the conversation of a long winter evening, his curiosity became
greatly excited, in an account, given by his guest, of the Miramichi
region. He was astonished at the moral darkness reigning there. The
place was distant, and, at that time, almost inaccessible to any, save
the strong and hardy. But the light of life ought to be thrown into
that darkness. Who should go as a torch-bearer? The inquiry had
scarcely risen in his breast, before he thought he heard the words
spoken almost audibly, _Thou must go_.
Here, a peculiarity of the good blacksmith must be explained.
Possessed of great practical wisdom and sagacity, he was yet easily
affected by preternatural influences. He was subject to very strong
"impressions of mind", as he called them, by which he was urged to
pursue one course of conduct instead of another; to follow out one
plan of business in preference to another, even when there seemed to
be no apparent reason, why the one course was better than its
alternative. He had sometimes obeyed these impressions, sometimes had
not. But he thought he had found, in the end, that he should have
invariably followed them.
A particular instance confirmed him in this belief. One day, being in
New York, he was extremely anxious to complete his business in order
to take passage home in a sloop, announced to leave port at a certain
hour in the afternoon. Resolving to be on board the vessel at the time
appointed, he hurried from place to place, from street to street, in
the accomplishment of his plan. But he was strangely hindered in his
arrangements and haunted by an impression of trouble connected with
the vessel. Having, however, left his wife ill at home, and being
still determined to go, he pressed on. It happened that he arrived at
the wharf just as the sloop had got beyond the possibility of reaching
her, and he turned away bitterly disappointed. The night that followed
was one of darkness and horror; the sloop caught fire and all on board
perished.
He had now received an impression that it was his duty to go, as an
ambassador of Christ, to Miramichi.
Having for sometime previous, "exercised his gift" with acceptance at
various social religious meetings, he applied to the authorities of
his religious denomination for license to preach.
After passing a creditable examination on points deemed essential in
the case, he obtained a commission and a cordial God speed from his
brethren. They augured well for his success.
To be sure, the deficiencies of his early education sometimes made
themselves manifest, notwithstanding the diligent efforts he had put
forth, of late years, to remedy the lack. But on the other hand, he
had knowledge of human nature, sagacity in adapting means to ends, a
wide tolerance of those unfortunate ones, involved by whatever ways in
guilt, deep and earnest piety, and a remarkable natural eloquence,
both winning and forcible.
So he had started on his long journey through the wilderness, and
here, at last, he is found, on the banks of the Miramichi, cheerful
and active, engaged in his great work.
The reader was informed, at the close of the last chapter, that after
the perplexing visions of the night, by the use of charms of which he
well knew the power, Mr. Norton had cleared his brain of the
unpleasant phantoms that had invaded it during his slumbers. Being
quick and forgetive in his mental operations, even while completing
his toilet, he had formed a plan for an attack upon the kingdom of
darkness lying around him.
As he entered the room, the scene of his last night's adventure, his
face beaming with cheerfulness and courage, Adèle, who was just then
laying the table, thought his appearance there like another sunrise.
After the morning salutations were over, he looked around the
apartment, observing it, in its daylight aspect, with a somewhat
puzzled air. In some respects, it was entirely unlike what he had
seen before. The broad stone hearth, with its large blazing fire, the
Dutch oven, the air of neatness and thrift, were like those of a New
England kitchen, but here the resemblance ceased.
A paper-hanging, whose originally rich hues had become in a measure
dimmed, covered the walls; and curious old pictures hung around; the
chairs and tables were of heavy dark wood, elaborately and grotesquely
carved, as was also the ebony clock in the corner, whose wonderful
mechanism had so astonished him on the previous evening. A low lounge,
covered with a crimson material, occupied a remote corner of the room,
with a Turkish mat spread on the floor before it. At the head of the
couch was a case, curiously carved, filled with books, and beneath, in
a little niche in the wall, a yellow ivory crucifix.
It did not occur to the good man to make any comparison between this
room with its peculiar adornings, and the Puritan kitchen with its
stiff, stark furniture. One of the latter description was found in his
own home, and the place where his loved ones lived and moved, was to
him invested with a beauty altogether independent of outward form and
show. But, as he looked around with an air of satisfaction, this room
evidently pleased his eye, and he paid an involuntary tribute to its
historic suggestiveness, by falling into a reverie concerning the life
and times of the good Roman Catholic Fenelon, whose memoir and
writings he had read.
Soon Adèle called him to the breakfast-table.
Mrs. McNab not having made her appearance, he inquired if any tidings
had been heard from the sick-room. Mrs. Dubois replied, that she had
listened at the door and hearing no sound, concluded Mr. Brown was
quiet under the influence of the sleeping powder, and consequently,
she did not run the risk of disturbing him by going in.
"Should Aunt Patty happen to begin snoring in her chair, as she often
does", said Adèle, "Mr. Brown would be obliged to wake up. I defy any
one to sleep when she gets into one of those fits".
"Adèle", said her father, while a smile played round his mouth and
twinkled in his usually grave eyes, "can't you let Mrs. McNab have any
peace?"
"Is Mr. Brown a friend of yours?" inquired Mr. Norton of his host.
"I met him for the first time at Fredericton. He was at the hotel when
I arrived there. We accidentally fell into conversation one evening.
He made, then and subsequently, many inquiries about this region, and
when I was ready to start for home, said that, with my permission, he
would travel with me. I fancy", Mr. Dubois added, "he was somewhat ill
when we left, but he did not speak of it. We had a rough journey and I
think the exposure to which he was subjected has increased his
sickness. If he proves to be no better to-day, I shall send Micah for
Dr. Wright", said he, turning to his wife. "I hope you will, father",
said Adèle, speaking very decidedly. "I should be sorry to have him
consigned over wholly to the tender mercies of Mrs. McNab".
"Mr. Dubois", said the missionary, laying down his knife and fork,
suddenly, "I must confess, I am perfectly surprised to find such a
family as yours in this place. From previous report, and indeed from
my own observation in reaching here, I had received the idea, that the
inhabitants were not only a wicked, but a very rude and uncouth set of
people".
"Whatever may be your opinion of ourselves, sir", replied his host,
"you are not far amiss in regard to the character of the people. They
are, in general, a rough set".
"Well, sir", said Mr. Norton, "as an honest man, I must inform you,
that I came here with a purpose in view. I have a message to this
people,--a message of love and mercy; and I trust it will not be
displeasing to you, if I promulgate it in this neighborhood".
"I do not understand your meaning", said Mr. Dubois.
"I wish, sir, to teach these people, some of the truths of morality
and religion such as are found in the Bible. I have ventured to guess
that you and your family are of the Roman Catholic faith".
"We belong to the communion of that church, sir".
"That being the case, and thinking you may have some interest in this
matter, I would say, that I wish to make an attempt to teach the
knowledge of divine things to this people, hoping thereby to raise
them from their present state to something better and holier".
"A worthy object, sir, but altogether a hopeless one. You have no idea
of the condition of the settlers here. You cannot get a hearing. They
scoff at such things utterly", said Mr. Dubois.
"Is there any objection in your own mind against an endeavor to enlist
their interest?" asked Mr. Norton.
"Not the least", said Mr. Dubois.
"Then I will try to collect the people together and tell them my views
and wishes. Is there any man here having influence with this class,
who would be willing to aid me in this movement?"
Mr. Dubois meditated.
"I do not know of one, sir", he said. "They all drink, swear, gamble,
and profane holy things, and seem to have no respect for either God or
man".
"It is too true", remarked Mrs. Dubois.
"Now, father", said Adèle, assuming an air of wisdom, that sat rather
comically on her youthful brow, "_I_ think Micah Mummychog would be
just the person to help this gentleman".
"Micah Mummychog!" exclaimed Mr. Norton, throwing himself back in his
chair and shaking out of his lungs a huge, involuntary haw, haw,
"where does the person you speak of hail from to own such a name as
_that_, my dear child?"
"I rather think he came from Yankee land,--from your part of the
country, sir", said Adèle, mischievously.
"Ah, well", said Mr. Norton, with another peal of laughter, "we _do_
have some curious names in our parts".
"Micah Mummychog!" exclaimed Mr. Dubois, "what are you thinking of,
Adèle? Why, the fellow drinks and swears as hard as the rest of them".
"Not quite", persisted the child, "and besides, he has some good about
him, I know".
"What have you seen good about him, pray?" said her father.
"Why, you remember that when I discovered the little girl floating
down the river, Micah took his boat and went out to bring her ashore.
He took the body, dripping, in his arms, carried it to his house, and
laid it down as tenderly as if it had been his own sister. He asked me
to please go and get Mrs. McNab to come and prepare it for burial. The
little thing, he said, was entirely dead and gone. I started to go, as
he wished, but happened to think I would just step back and look at
the sweet face once more. When I opened the door, Micah was bending
over it, with his eyes full of tears. When I asked, what is the
matter, Micah? he said he was thinking of a little sister of his that
was drowned just so in the Kennebec River, many years ago".
"That showed some feeling, certainly", said Mrs. Dubois.
"Then, too, I know", continued Adèle, "that the people here like him.
If any one can get them together, Micah can".
"Well!" said Mr. Dubois looking at his child with a fond pride, yet as
if doubting whether she were not already half spoiled, "it seems you
are the wiseacre of the family. I know Micah has always been a
favorite of yours. Perhaps the gentleman will give your views some
consideration".
"Father", replied Adèle, "I have only said what I think about it".
"I'll try what I can do with Micah Mummychog", said Mr. Norton
decidedly, and the conversation ended.