Robinson Crusoe is the parent of a line of fictions, all more or less
entertaining; but those of our own day, as might be expected, share
largely in the practical spirit of the time, making amusement in some
degree the mere menstruum of information. Following the Swiss Family
Robinson, we have here an English Family Robinson, which might as well
be called an American Family Robinson; and although ostensibly meant
for the holiday recreation of youth, it proves to be a production
equally well suited for children of six feet and upwards. The author
is personally familiar with the scenes he describes, and is thus able
to give them a verisimilitude which in other circumstances can be
attained only by the rarest genius; and notwithstanding the
associations, of his last book, the _Scalp-hunters_, there is only one
bloody conflict in the present one fought by animals of the genus
Homo.
The local habitation of the lost family is a nook in the Great
American Desert--a nook in a desert twenty-five times the size of
England! But this wilderness of about a million square miles is not
all sand or all barren earth: it contains numerous other features of
interest besides mountains and oases; it includes the country of New
Mexico, with its towns and cities; the country round the Great Salt
and Utah Lakes, where the germ of a Mormon nation is expanding on all
sides; and it is traversed in its whole breadth by the Rocky
Mountains. An English family, after being ruined in St Louis, and
reduced to their last hundred pounds, are persuaded by a Scottish
miner to accompany him across this desert to New Mexico. 'They are a
wonderful people,' says the story-teller, 'these same Scotch. They are
but a small nation, yet their influence is felt everywhere upon the
globe. Go where you will, you will find them in positions of trust and
importance--always prospering, yet, in the midst of prosperity, still
remembering, with strong feelings of attachment, the land of their
birth. They manage the marts of London, the commerce of India, the
fur-trade of America, and the mines of Mexico. Over all the American
wilderness you will meet them, side by side with the backwoods-pioneer
himself, and even pushing him from his own ground. From the Gulf of
Mexico to the Arctic Sea, they have impressed with their Gaelic names
rock, river, and mountain; and many an Indian tribe owns a Scotchman
for its chief.'
The adventurers join a caravan, which is attacked by Indians, and the
family of the destined Robinson find themselves alone in the
wilderness, 800 miles from the American frontier on the east, 1000
miles from any civilised settlement on either the north or south, and
200 miles from the farthest advanced lines of New Mexico in the
desert. They are, in short, lost; but in due time they are found again
by other explorers. These strangers are standing on the edge of a
cliff several hundred feet sheer down. 'Away below--far below where we
were--lay a lovely valley, smiling in all the luxuriance of bright
vegetation. It was of nearly an oval shape, bounded upon all sides by
a frowning precipice, that rose around it like a wall. Its length
could not have been less than ten miles, and its greatest breadth
about half of its length. We were at its upper end, and of course
viewed it lengthwise. Along the face of the precipice there were trees
hanging out horizontally, and some of them even growing with their
tops downward. These trees were cedars and pines; and we could
perceive also the knotted limbs of huge cacti protruding from the
crevices of the rocks. We could see the wild mezcal, or maguey-plant,
growing against the cliff--its scarlet leaves contrasting finely with
the dark foliage of the cedars and cacti. Some of these plants stood
out on the very brow of the overhanging precipice, and their long
curving blades gave a singular character to the landscape. Along the
face of the dark cliffs all was rough, and gloomy, and picturesque.
How different was the scene below! Here everything looked soft, and
smiling, and beautiful. There were broad stretches of woodland, where
the thick foliage of the trees met and clustered together, so that it
looked like the surface of the earth itself; but we knew it was only
the green leaves, for here and there were spots of brighter green,
that we saw were glades covered with grassy turf. The leaves of the
trees were of different colours, for it was now late in the autumn.
Some were yellow, and some of a deep claret colour: some were
bright-red, and some of a beautiful maroon; and there were green, and
brighter green, and others of a silvery-whitish hue. All these colours
were mingled together, and blended into each other, like the flowers
upon a rich carpet. Near the centre of the valley was a large shining
object, which we knew to be water. It was evidently a lake of crystal
purity, and smooth as a mirror. The sun was now up to meridian height,
and his yellow beams falling upon its surface caused it to gleam like
a sheet of gold. We could not trace the outlines of the water, for the
trees partially hid it from our view, but we saw that the smoke that
had at first attracted us rose up somewhere from the western shore of
the lake.' In this strange oasis they found what appeared to be a snug
farm-house, with stables and outhouses, garden and fields, horses and
cattle. Here they were hospitably entertained by the proprietor, his
wife, and two sons, and served by a faithful negro; and of course it
is the history of the settlers, and their struggles, expedients, and
contrivances which form the staple of the work.
In this history we have the process of building a log-house, and the
usual modes of assembling round the squatter such of the comforts of
life as may be obtained in the desert; but our family Robinson appears
to have been the most ingenious as well as the most fortunate of
adventurers, for there are very few, even of the luxuries of civilised
society, which are beyond his reach. The natural history of the book,
however, is its main feature; and the adventures of the lost family
with the unreasoning denizens of the desert remind us not unfrequently
of the pictures of Audubon. This is among the earliest:--'There were
high cliffs fronting us, and along the face of these five large
reddish objects were moving, so fast that I at first thought they were
birds upon the wing. After watching them a moment, however, I saw that
they were quadrupeds; but so nimbly did they go, leaping from ledge to
ledge, that it was impossible to see their limbs. They appeared to be
animals of the deer species, somewhat larger than sheep or goats; but
we could see that, in place of antlers, each of them had a pair of
huge curving horns. As they leaped downward, from one platform of the
cliffs to another, we fancied that they whirled about in the air, as
though they were "turning somersaults," and seemed at times to come
down heads foremost! There was a spur of the cliff that sloped down to
within less than a hundred yards of the place where we sat. It ended
in an abrupt precipice, of some sixty or seventy feet in height above
the plain. The animals, on reaching the level of this spur, ran along
it until they had arrived at its end. Seeing the precipice, they
suddenly stopped, as if to reconnoitre it; and we had now a full view
of them, as they stood outlined against the sky, with their graceful
limbs and great curved horns, almost as large as their bodies. We
thought, of course, they could get no farther for the precipice, and I
was calculating whether my rifle, which I had laid hold of, would
reach them at that distance. All at once, to our astonishment, the
foremost sprang out from the cliff, and whirling through the air, lit
upon his head on the hard plain below! We could see that he came down
upon his horns, and rebounding up again to the height of several feet,
he turned a second somersault, and then dropped upon his legs, and
stood still! Nothing daunted, the rest followed, one after the other,
in quick succession, like so many street-tumblers; and, like them,
after the feat had been performed, the animals stood for a moment, as
if waiting for applause!' These were the _argali_, or wild sheep,
popularly termed bighorns, and resembling an immense yellow goat or
deer furnished with a pair of ram's horns.
Such are the anecdotes which the reader will find thickly scattered
throughout this volume; but perhaps the most interesting are a series
of conflicts witnessed by the father and one of the sons, and in the
course of which they are themselves exposed to some danger. They had
gone out to gather from the live oaks a kind of moss, which they
found to be quite equal to curled hair for stuffing mattresses; and
while perched upon one of the trees, the drama opened by the violent
scolding of a pair of orioles, or Baltimore birds--so called from
their colour, a mixture of black and orange, being the same as that in
the coat-of-arms of Lord Baltimore. The cause of the disturbance
appeared to be a nondescript animal close to the edge of the thicket,
with a variety of little legs, tails, heads, ears, and eyes stuck over
its body. 'All at once the numerous heads seemed to separate from the
main body, becoming little bodies of themselves, with long tails upon
them, and looking just like a squad of white rats! The large body to
which they had all been attached we now saw was an old female opossum,
and evidently the mother of the whole troop. She was about the size of
a cat, and covered with woolly hair of a light gray colour.... The
little 'possums were exact pictures of their mother--all having the
same sharp snouts and long naked tails. We counted no less than
thirteen of them, playing and tumbling about among the leaves.' The
old 'possum looked wistfully up at the nest of the orioles, hanging
like a distended stocking from the topmost twigs of the tree. After a
little consideration she uttered a sharp note, which brought the
little ones about her in a twinkling. 'Several of them ran into the
pouch which she had caused to open for them; two of them took a turn
of their little tails around the root of hers, and climbed up on her
rump, almost burying themselves in her long wool; while two or three
others fastened themselves about her neck and shoulders. It was a most
singular sight to see the little creatures holding on with "tails,
teeth, and toe-nails," while some peeped comically out of the great
breast-pocket.' Burdened in this way, she climbed the tree, and then
taking hold of the young 'possums, one by one, with her mouth, she
made them twist their tails round a branch, and hang with their heads
downwards. 'Five or six of the "kittens" were still upon the ground.
For these she returned, and taking them up as before, again climbed
the tree. She disposed of the second load precisely as she had done
the others, until the thirteen little possums hung head downwards
along the branch like a string of candles!'
The mother now climbed higher up; but the nest, with its tempting
eggs, hung beyond her reach; and although she suspended herself by the
tail--at last almost by its very tip--and swung like a pendulum,
clutching as she swung, it was all in vain. At length, with a bitter
snarl, she gave up the adventure as hopeless, detached the young ones
from their hold, flung them testily to the ground, and descending,
took them all into her pouch and upon her back, and trudged away.
'Frank and I now deemed it proper to interfere, and cut off the
retreat of the old 'possum: so, dropping from our perch, we soon
overtook and captured the whole family. The old one, on first seeing
us approach, rolled herself into a round clump, so that neither her
head nor legs could be seen, and in this attitude feigned to be quite
dead. Several of the youngsters who were _outside_, immediately
detached themselves, and imitated the example of their mother--so that
the family now presented the appearance of a large ball of whitish
wool, with several smaller "clews" lying around it!' The family
Crusoes, however, were not to be cheated: they took the whole
prisoners, intending to carry them home; and making the mother fast to
one of the saplings, returned to their tree.
Soon the persecuted orioles began to scream and scold as before. Their
enemy this time was a huge moccason, one of the most venomous of
serpents. 'It was one of the largest of its species; and its great
flat head, protruding sockets, and sparkling eyes, added to the
hideousness of its appearance. Every now and then, as it advanced, it
threw out its forked tongue, which, moist with poisonous saliva,
flashed under the sunbeam like jets of fire. It was crawling directly
for the tree on which hung the nest.' The birds seemed to think he
meant to climb to their nest, and descended in rage and terror to the
lower branches. 'The snake, seeing them approach almost within range
of his hideous maw, gathered himself into a coil, and prepared to
strike. His eyes scintillated like sparks of fire, and seemed to
fascinate the birds; for instead of retiring, they each moment drew
nearer and nearer, now alighting on the ground, then flapping back to
the branches, and anon darting to the ground again--as though they
were under some spell from those fiery eyes, and were unable to take
themselves away. Their motions appeared to grow less energetic, their
chirping became almost inaudible, and their wings seemed hardly to
expand as they flew, or rather fluttered, around the head of the
serpent. One of them at length dropped down upon the ground within
reach of the snake, and stood with open bill, as if exhausted, and
unable to move farther. We were expecting to see the snake suddenly
launch forth upon his feathered victim; when all at once his coils
flew out, his body was thrown at full length, and he commenced
retreating from the tree!' The object that caused this diversion was
soon visible. 'It was an animal about the size of a wolf, and of a
dark-gray or blackish colour. Its body was compact, round-shaped, and
covered, not with hair, but with shaggy bristles, that along the ridge
of its back were nearly six inches in length, and gave it the
appearance of having a mane. It had very short ears, no tail whatever,
or only a knob; and we could see that its feet were hoofed, not clawed
as in beasts of prey. But whether beast of prey or not, its long
mouth, with two white tusks protruding over the jaws, gave it a very
formidable appearance. Its head and nose resembled those of the hog
more than any other animal; and in fact it was nothing else than the
peccary--the wild hog of Mexico.'
The moccason did not wait to parley with his enemy, but skulked away
through the long grass, every now and then raising his head to glare
behind him. But the peccary tracked him by the smell, and on coming up
to him, uttered a shrill grunt. 'The snake, finding that he was
overtaken, threw himself into a coil, and prepared to give battle;
while his antagonist, now looking more like a great porcupine than a
pig, drew back, as if to take the advantage of a run; and then halted.
Both for a moment eyed each other--the peccary evidently calculating
its distance--while the great snake seemed cowed and quivering with
affright. Its appearance was entirely different from the bright
semblance it had exhibited but a moment before when engaged with the
birds. Its eyes were less fiery, and its whole body seemed more ashy
and wrinkled. We had not many moments to observe it, for the peccary
was now seen to rush forward, spring high into the air, and pounce
down with all her feet held together upon the coils of the serpent!
She immediately bounded back again; and, quick as thought, once more
rose above her victim. The snake was now uncoiled, and writhing over
the ground. Another rush from the peccary, another spring, and the
sharp hoofs of the animal came down upon the neck of the serpent,
crushing it upon the hard turf. The body of the reptile, distended to
its full length, quivered for a moment, and then lay motionless along
the grass. The victor uttered another sharp cry, that seemed intended
as a call to her young ones, who, emerging from the weeds where they
had concealed themselves, ran nimbly forward to the spot.'
While the father and son are watching the peccary peeling the serpent
as adroitly as a fishmonger would skin an eel, another actor enters
upon the scene. This was the dreaded cougar, an animal of the size of
a calf, and with the head and general appearance of a cat. Creeping
stealthily round his victim, who is busy feasting on the quarry, he
at length attains the proper vantage-ground, and gathering himself up
like a cat, springs with a terrific scream upon the back of the
peccary, burying his claws in her neck, and clasping her all over in
his fatal embrace. 'The frightened animal uttered a shrill cry, and
struggled to free itself. Both rolled over the ground--the peccary all
the while gnashing its jaws, and continuing to send forth its strange
sharp cries, until the woods echoed again. Even the young ones ran
around, mixing in the combat--now flung sprawling upon the earth, now
springing up again, snapping their little jaws, and imitating the cry
of their mother. The cougar alone fought in silence. Since the first
wild scream not a sound had escaped him; but from that moment his
claws never relaxed their hold, and we could see that with his teeth
he was silently tearing the throat of his victim.'
The Robinsons of the desert were now in an awkward predicament; for
although they had been safe from the peccary, the cougar could climb a
tree like a squirrel. A noise, however, disturbs him from his meal,
and swinging the dead animal on his back, he begins to skulk away. But
he is interrupted before he can reach cover; and as the new-comers
prove to be twenty or thirty peccaries, summoned to the field by the
dying screams of their comrade, he has more to do than to think of his
dinner. To fling down his burden, to leap upon the foremost of his
enemies, is but the work of an instant; but the avengers crowd round
him with their gnashing jaws and piercing cries, and the brute darts
up the tree like a flash of red fire, and crouches not twenty feet
above the heads of the horrified spectators! The father, however,
after some agonising moments of deliberation, brings him down with his
rifle; and the cougar, falling among the eager crowd below, is torn to
pieces in a moment. But this does not get rid of the peccaries, who
set up their fiendish screams anew as they discover two other victims
in the tree. The father fires again and again, dropping his peccary
each time, till five lie dead upon the ground; but the rage of the
rest only becomes more and more furious--and the marksman is at his
last bullet. Here we shall leave him; and such of our readers as may
be interested in his fate--who form, we suspect, a very handsome
percentage on the whole--may make inquiries for themselves at his
Desert Home.
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