The sad butterfly,
Waving his lackered wings, darts quickly on,
And, by his free flight, counsels us to speed
For better lodgings, and a scene more sweet,
Than these dear borders offer us to-night.
SIMMS.
It was noon before Ben and Gershom dared to commence the process of
cutting and splitting the tree, in order to obtain the honey. Until
then, the bees lingered around their fallen hive, and it would have been
dangerous to venture beyond the smoke and heat, in order to accomplish
the task. It is true, le Bourdon possessed several secrets, of more or
less virtue, to drive off the bees when disposed to assault him, but
no one that was as certain as a good fire, backed by a dense column of
vapor. Various plants are thought to be so offensive to the insects,
that they avoid even their odor; and the bee-hunter had faith in one or
two of them; but none of the right sort happened now to be near, and he
was obliged to trust, first to a powerful heat, and next to the vapor of
damp wood.
As there were axes, and wedges, and a beetle in the canoe, and Gershom
was as expert with these implements as a master of fencing is with his
foil, to say nothing of the skill of le Bourdon, the tree was soon
laid open, and its ample stores of sweets exposed. In the course of the
afternoon the honey was deposited in kegs, the kegs were transferred to
the canoe, and the whole deposited in the chiente. The day had been one
of toil, and when our two bordermen sat down near the spring, to take
their evening meal, each felt glad that his work was done.
“I believe this must be the last hive I line, this summer,” said le
Bourdon, while eating his supper. “My luck has been good so far, but
in troublesome times one had better not be too far from home. I am
surprised, Waring, that you have ventured so far from your family, while
the tidings are so gloomy.”
“That's partly because you don't know ME, and partly because you don't
know DOLLY. As for leaving hum, with anybody to kear for it, I should
like to know who is more to the purpose than Dolly Waring? I haven't no
idee that even bees would dare get upon HER! If they did, they'd soon
get the worst on't Her tongue is all-powerful, to say nawthin' of her
arms; and if the so'gers can only handle their muskets as she can handle
a broom, there is no need of new regiments to carry on this war.”
Now, nothing could be more false than this character; but a drunkard has
little regard to what he says.
“I am glad your garrison is so strong,” answered the beehunter,
thoughtfully; “but mine is too weak to stay any longer, out here in
the openings. Whiskey Centre, I intend to break up, and return to the
settlement, before the red-skins break loose in earnest. If you will
stay and lend me a hand to embark the honey and stores, and help
to carry the canoe down the river, you shall be well paid for your
trouble.”
“Waal, I'd about as lief do that, as do anything else. Good jobs is
scarce, out here in the wilderness, and when a body lights of one, he
ought to profit by it. I come up here thinkin' to meet you, for I heer'n
tell from a voyager that you was a-beeing it, out in the openin's, and
there's nawthin' in natur' that Dolly takes to with a greater relish
than good wild honey. 'Try whiskey,' I've told her a thousand times,
'and you'll soon get to like THAT better than all the rest of creation';
but not a drop could I ever get her, or Blossom, to swallow. It's true,
that leaves so much the more for me; but I'm a companionable crittur,
and don't think I've drunk as much as I want, unless I take it
society-like. That's one reason I've taken so mightily to you, Bourdon;
you're not much at a pull, but you an't downright afeared of a jug,
neither.”
The bee-hunter was glad to hear that all the family had not this man's
vice, for he now plainly foresaw that the accidents of his position must
bring him and these strangers much in contact, for some weeks, at least.
Le Bourdon, though not absolutely “afraid of a jug,” as Whiskey Centre
had expressed it, was decidedly a temperate man; drinking but seldom,
and never to excess. He too well knew the hazards by which he was
surrounded, to indulge in this way, even had he the taste for it; but he
had no taste that way, one small jug of brandy forming his supply for a
whole season. In these days of exaggeration in all things, exaggeration
in politics, in religion, in temperance, in virtue, and even in
education, by putting “new wine into old bottles,” that one little jug
might have sufficed to give him a bad name; but five-and-thirty years
ago men had more real independence than they now possess, and were
not as much afraid of that croquemitaine, public opinion, as they
are to-day. To be sure, it was little to le Bourdon's taste to make a
companion of such a person as Whiskey Centre; but there was no choice.
The man was an utter stranger to him; and the only means he possessed of
making sure that he did not carry off the property that lay so much at
his mercy, was by keeping near him. With many men, the bee-hunter would
have been uneasy at being compelled to remain alone with them in the
woods; for cases in which one had murdered another, in order to get
possession of the goods, in these remote regions, were talked of, among
the other rumors of the borders; but Gershom had that in his air and
manner that rendered Ben confident his delinquencies, at the most, would
scarcely reach bloodshed. Pilfer he might; but murder was a crime which
he did not appear at all likely to commit.
After supping in company, our two adventurers secured everything; and,
retiring to the chiente, they went to sleep. No material disturbance
occurred, but the night passed in tranquillity; the bee-hunter merely
experiencing some slight interruption to his slumbers, from the unusual
circumstance of having a companion. One as long accustomed to be alone
as himself would naturally submit to some such sensation, our habits
getting so completely the mastery as often to supplant even nature.
The following morning the bee-hunter commenced his preparations for a
change of residence. Had he not been discovered, it is probable that the
news received from the Chippewa would not have induced him to abandon
his present position, so early in the season; but he thought the risk of
remaining was too great under all the circumstances. The Pottawattamie,
in particular, was a subject of great distrust to him, and he believed
it highly possible some of that old chief's tribe might be after his
scalp ere many suns had risen. Gershom acquiesced in these opinions,
and, as soon as his brain was less under the influence of liquor than
was common with him, he appeared to be quite happy in having it in his
power to form a species of alliance, offensive and defensive, with a
man of his own color and origin. Great harmony now prevailed between the
two, Gershom improving vastly in all the better qualities, the instant
his intellect and feelings got to be a little released from the thraldom
of the jug. His own immediate store of whiskey was quite exhausted, and
le Bourdon kept the place in which his own small stock of brandy was
secured a profound secret. These glimmerings of returning intellect,
and of reviving principles, are by no means unusual with the sot, thus
proving that “so long as there is life, there is hope,” for the moral,
as well as for the physical being. What was a little remarkable, Gershom
grew less vulgar, even in his dialect, as he grew more sober, showing
that in all respects he was becoming a greatly improved person.
The men were several hours in loading the canoe, not only all the
stores and ammunition, but all the honey being transferred to it. The
bee-hunter had managed to conceal his jug of brandy, reduced by this
time to little more than a quart, within an empty powder-keg, into which
he had crammed a beaver-skin or two, that he had taken, as it might be
incidentally, in the course of his rambles. At length everything was
removed and stowed in its proper place, on board the capacious canoe,
and Gershom expected an announcement on the part of Ben of his readiness
to embark. But there still remained one duty to perform. The beehunter
had killed a buck only the day before the opening of our narrative, and
shouldering a quarter, he had left the remainder of the animal suspended
from the branches of a tree, near the place where it had been shot and
cleaned. As venison might be needed before they could reach the mouth
of the river, Ben deemed it advisable that he and Gershom should go
and bring in the remainder of the carcass. The men started on this
undertaking accordingly, leaving the canoe about two in the afternoon.
The distance between the spot where the deer had been killed, and the
chiente, was about three miles; which was the reason why the bee-hunter
had not brought home the entire animal the day he killed it; the
American woodsman often carrying his game great distances in preference
to leaving it any length of time in the forest. In the latter case there
is always danger from beasts of prey, which are drawn from afar by the
scent of blood. Le Bourdon thought it possible they might now encounter
wolves; though he had left the carcass of the deer so suspended as to
place it beyond the reach of most of the animals of the wilderness. Each
of the men, however, carried a rifle: and Hive was allowed to accompany
them, by an act of grace on the part of his master.
For the first half-hour, nothing occurred out of the usual course of
events. The bee-hunter had been conversing freely with his companion,
who, he rejoiced to find, manifested far more common sense, not to say
good sense, than he had previously shown; and from whom he was deriving
information touching the number of vessels, and the other movements on
the lakes, that he fancied might be of use to himself when he started
for Detroit. While thus engaged, and when distant only a hundred rods
from the place where he had left the venison, le Bourdon was suddenly
struck with the movements of the dog. Instead of doubling on his own
tracks, and scenting right and left, as was the animal's wont, he was
now advancing cautiously, with his head low, seemingly feeling his way
with his nose, as if there was a strong taint in the wind.
“Sartain as my name is Gershom,” exclaimed Waring, just after he and Ben
had come to a halt, in order to look around them--“yonder is an Injin!
The crittur' is seated at the foot of the large oak--hereaway, more
to the right of the dog, and Hive has struck his scent. The fellow is
asleep, with his rifle across his lap, and can't have much dread of
wolves or bears!”
“I see him,” answered le Bourdon, “and am as much surprised as grieved
to find him there. It is a little remarkable that I should have so many
visitors, just at this time, on my hunting-ground, when I never had
any at all before yesterday. It gives a body an uncomfortable feeling,
Waring, to live so much in a crowd! Well, well--I'm about to move, and
it will matter little twenty-four hours hence.”
“The chap's a Winnebago by his paint,” added Gershom--“but let's go up
and give him a call.”
The bee-hunter assented to this proposal, remarking, as they moved
forward, that he did not think the stranger of the tribe just named;
though he admitted that the use of paint was so general and loose among
these warriors, as to render it difficult to decide.
“The crittur' sleeps soundly!” exclaimed Gershom, stopping within ten
yards of the Indian, to take another look at him.
“He'll never awake,” put in the bee-hunter, solemnly--“the man is dead.
See; there is blood on the side of his head, and a rifle-bullet has left
its hole there.”
Even while speaking, the bee-hunter advanced, and raising a sort of
shawl, that once had been used as an ornament, and which had last
been thrown carelessly over the head of its late owner, he exposed the
well-known features of Elks-foot, the Pottawattamie, who had left them
little more than twenty-four hours before! The warrior had been shot by
a rifle-bullet directly through the temple, and had been scalped. The
powder had been taken from his horn, and the bullets from his pouch;
but, beyond this, he had not been plundered. The body was carefully
placed against a tree, in a sitting attitude, the rifle was laid across
its legs, and there it had been left, in the centre of the openings, to
become food for beasts of prey, and to have its bones bleached by the
snows and the rains!
The bee-hunter shuddered, as he gazed at this fearful memorial of the
violence against which even a wilderness could afford no sufficient
protection. That Pigeonswing had slain his late fellow-guest, le Bourdon
had no doubt, and he sickened at the thought. Although he had himself
dreaded a good deal from the hostility of the Pottawattamie, he could
have wished this deed undone. That there was a jealous distrust of each
other between the two Indians had been sufficiently apparent; but the
bee-hunter could not have imagined that it would so soon lead to results
as terrible as these!
After examining the body, and noting the state of things around it, the
men proceeded, deeply impressed with the necessity, not only of their
speedy removal, but of their standing by each other in that remote
region, now that violence had so clearly broken out among the tribes.
The bee-hunter had taken a strong liking to the Chippewa, and he
regretted so much the more to think that he had done this deed. It was
true, that such a state of things might exist as to justify an Indian
warrior, agreeably to his own notions, in taking the life of any one of
a hostile tribe; but le Bourdon wished it had been otherwise. A man
of gentle and peaceable disposition himself, though of a profoundly
enthusiastic temperament in his own peculiar way, he had ever avoided
those scenes of disorder and bloodshed, which are of so frequent
occurrence in the forest and on the prairies; and this was actually the
first instance in which he had ever beheld a human body that had fallen
by human hands. Gershom had seen more of the peculiar life of the
frontiers than his companion, in consequence of having lived so closely
in contact with the “fire-water”; but even HE was greatly shocked with
the suddenness and nature of the Pottawattamie's end.
No attempt was made to bury the remains of Elksfoot, inasmuch as
our adventurers had no tools fit for such a purpose, and any merely
superficial interment would have been a sort of invitation to the wolves
to dig the body up again.
“Let him lean ag'in' the tree,” said Waring, as they moved on toward the
spot where the carcass of the deer was left, “and I'll engage nothin'
touches him. There's that about the face of man, Bourdon, that skears
the beasts; and if a body can only muster courage to stare them full in
the eye, one single human can drive before him a whull pack of wolves.”
“I've heard as much,” returned the bee-hunter, “but should not like
to be the 'human' to try the experiment That the face of man may have
terrors for a beast, I think likely; but hunger would prove more than
a match for such fear. Yonder is our venison, Waring; safe where I left
it.”
The carcass of the deer was divided, and each man shouldering his
burden, the two returned to the river, taking care to avoid the path
that led by the body of the dead Indian. As both labored with much
earnestness, everything was soon ready, and the canoe speedily left the
shore. The Kalamazoo is not in general a swift and turbulent stream,
though it has a sufficient current to carry away its waters without any
appearance of sluggishness. Of course, this character is not uniform,
reaches occurring in which the placid water is barely seen to move;
and others, again, are found, in which something like rapids, and even
falls, appear. But on the whole, and more especially in the part of the
stream where it was, the canoe had little to disturb it, as it glided
easily down, impelled by a light stroke of the paddle.
The bee-hunter did not abandon his station without regret. He had chosen
a most agreeable site for his chiente, consulting air, shade, water,
verdure, and groves, as well as the chances of obtaining honey. In his
regular pursuit he had been unusually fortunate; and the little pile of
kegs in the centre of his canoe was certainly a grateful sight to his
eyes. The honey gathered this season, moreover, had proved to be of an
unusually delicious flavor, affording the promise of high prices and
ready sales. Still, the bee-hunter left the place with profound regret.
He loved his calling; he loved solitude to a morbid degree, perhaps; and
he loved the gentle excitement that naturally attended his “bee-lining,”
his discoveries, and his gains. Of all the pursuits that are more or
less dependent on the chances of the hunt and the field, that of
the bee-hunter is of the most quiet and placid enjoyment. He has the
stirring motives of uncertainty and doubt, without the disturbing
qualities of bustle and fatigue; and, while his exercise is sufficient
for health, and for the pleasures of the open air, it is seldom of a
nature to weary or unnerve. Then the study of the little animal that
is to be watched, and, if the reader will, plundered, is not without
a charm for those who delight in looking into the wonderful arcana of
nature. So great was the interest that le Bourdon sometimes felt in his
little companions, that, on three several occasions that very summer,
he had spared hives after having found them, because he had ascertained
that they were composed of young bees, and had not yet got sufficiently
colonized to render a new swarming more than a passing accident. With
all this kindness of feeling toward his victims, Boden had nothing of
the transcendental folly that usually accompanies the sentimentalism of
the exaggerated, but his feelings and impulses were simple and direct,
though so often gentle and humane. He knew that the bee, like all the
other inferior animals of creation, was placed at the disposition
of man, and did not scruple to profit by the power thus beneficently
bestowed, though he exercised it gently, and with a proper
discrimination between its use and its abuse.
Neither of the men toiled much, as the canoe floated down the stream.
Very slight impulses served to give their buoyant craft a reasonably
swift motion, and the current itself was a material assistant. These
circumstances gave an opportunity for conversation, as the canoe glided
onward.
“A'ter all,” suddenly exclaimed Waring, who had been examining the pile
of kegs for some time in silence--“a'ter all, Bourdon, your trade is an
oncommon one! A most extr'ornary and oncommon callin'!”
“More so, think you, Gershom, than swallowing whiskey, morning, noon,
and night?” answered the bee-hunter, with a quiet smile.
“Aye, but that's not a reg'lar callin'; only a likin'! Now a man may
have a likin' to a hundred things in which he don't deal. I set nothin'
down as a business, which a man don't live by.”
“Perhaps you're right, Waring. More die by whiskey than live by
whiskey.”
Whiskey Centre seemed struck with this remark, which was introduced so
aptly, and was uttered so quietly. He gazed earnestly at his companion
for near a minute, ere he attempted to resume the discourse.
“Blossom has often said as much as this,” he then slowly rejoined; “and
even Dolly has prophesized the same.”
The bee-hunter observed that an impression had been made, and he thought
it wisest to let the reproof already administered produce its effect,
without endeavoring to add to its power. Waring sat with his chin on his
breast, in deep thought, while his companion, for the first time since
they had met, examined the features and aspect of the man. At first
sight, Whiskey Centre certainly offered little that was inviting; but
a closer study of his countenance showed that he had the remains of a
singularly handsome man. Vulgar as were his forms of speech, coarse and
forbidding as his face had become, through the indulgence which was his
bane, there were still traces of this truth. His complexion had once
been fair almost to effeminacy, his cheeks ruddy with health, and his
blue eye bright and full of hope. His hair was light; and all these
peculiarities strongly denoted his Saxon origin. It was not so much
Anglo-Saxon as Americo-Saxon, that was to be seen in the physical
outlines and hues of this nearly self-destroyed being. The heaviness
of feature, the ponderousness of limb and movement, had all long
disappeared from his race, most probably under the influence of climate,
and his nose was prominent and graceful in outline, while his mouth
and chin might have passed for having been under the chisel of some
distinguished sculptor. It was, in truth, painful to examine that face,
steeped as it was in liquor, and fast losing the impress left by
nature. As yet, the body retained most of its power, the enemy having
insidiously entered the citadel, rather than having actually subdued it.
The bee-hunter sighed as he gazed at his moody companion, and wondered
whether Blossom had aught of this marvellous comeliness of countenance,
without its revolting accompaniments.
All that afternoon, and the whole of the night that succeeded, did
the canoe float downward with the current. Occasionally, some slight
obstacle to its progress would present itself; but, on the whole, its
advance was steady and certain. As the river necessarily followed the
formation of the land, it was tortuous and irregular in its course,
though its general direction was toward the northwest, or west a little
northerly. The river-bottoms being much more heavily “timbered”--to
use a woodsman term--than the higher grounds, there was little of the
park-like “openings” on its immediate banks, though distant glimpses
were had of many a glade and of many a charming grove.
As the canoe moved toward its point of destination, the conversation did
not lag between the bee-hunter and his companion. Each gave the other
a sort of history of his life; for, now that the jug was exhausted,
Gershom could talk not only rationally, but with clearness and force.
Vulgar he was, and, as such, uninviting and often repulsive; still his
early education partook of that peculiarity of New England which, if
it do not make her children absolutely all they are apt to believe
themselves to be, seldom leaves them in the darkness of a besotted
ignorance. As usually happens with this particular race, Gershom
had acquired a good deal for a man of his class in life; and this
information, added to native shrewdness, enabled him to maintain his
place in the dialogue with a certain degree of credit. He had a very
lively perception--fancied or real--of all the advantages of being born
in the land of the Puritans, deeming everything that came of the
great “Blarney Stone” superior to everything else of the same nature
elsewhere; and, while much disposed to sneer and rail at all other
parts of the country, just as much indisposed to “take,” as disposed
to “give.” Ben Boden soon detected this weakness in his companion's
character, a weakness so very general as scarce to need being pointed
out to any observant man, and which is almost inseparable from half-way
intelligence and provincial self-admiration; and Ben was rather inclined
to play on it, whenever Gershom laid himself a little more open than
common on the subject. On the whole, however, the communications were
amicable; and the dangers of the wilderness rendering the parties
allies, they went their way with an increasing confidence in each
other's support. Gershom, now that he was thoroughly sober, could impart
much to Ben that was useful; while Ben knew a great deal that even his
companion, coming as he did from the chosen people, was not sorry to
learn. As has been, already intimated, each communicated to the other,
in the course of this long journey on the river, an outline of his past
life.
The history of Gershom Waring was one of every-day occurrence. He was
born of a family in humble circumstances in Massachusetts, a community
in which, however, none are so very humble as to be beneath the paternal
watchfulness of the State. The common schools had done their duty by
him; while, according to his account of the matter, his only sister had
fallen into the hands of a female relative, who was enabled to impart
an instruction slightly superior to that which is to be had from the
servants of the public. After a time, the death of this relative, and
the marriage of Gershom, brought the brother and sister together again,
the last still quite young. From this period the migratory life of
the family commenced. Previously to the establishment of manufactories
within her limits, New England systematically gave forth her increase
to the States west and south of her own territories. A portion of this
increase still migrates, and will probably long continue so to do; but
the tide of young women, which once flowed so steadily from that
region, would now seem to have turned, and is setting back in a flood
of “factory girls.” But the Warings lived at too early a day to feel
the influence of such a pass of civilization, and went west, almost as
a matter of course. With the commencement of his migratory life, Gershom
began to “dissipate,” as it has got to be matter of convention to term
“drinking.” Fortunately, Mrs. Waring had no children, thus lessening in
a measure the privations to which those unlucky females were obliged to
submit. When Gershom left his birthplace he had a sum of money exceeding
a thousand dollars in amount, the united means of himself and sister;
but, by the time he had reached Detroit, it was reduced to less than
a hundred. Several years, however, had been consumed by the way, the
habits growing worse and the money vanishing, as the family went further
and further toward the skirts of society. At length Gershom attached
himself to a sutler, who was going up to Michilimackinac, with a party
of troops; and finally he left that place to proceed, in a canoe of his
own, to the head of Lake Michigan, where was a post on the present site
of Chicago, which was then known as Fort Dearborn.
In quitting Mackinac for Chicago, Waring had no very settled plan. His
habits had completely put him out of favor at the former place; and
a certain restlessness urged him to penetrate still farther into the
wilderness. In all his migrations and wanderings the two devoted females
followed his fortunes; the one because she was his wife, the other
because she was his sister. When the canoe reached the mouth of the
Kalamazoo, a gale of wind drove it into the river; and finding a
deserted cabin, ready built, to receive him, Gershom landed, and had
been busy with the rifle for the last fortnight, the time he had been
on shore. Hearing from some voyageurs who had gone down the lake that a
bee-hunter was up the river, he had followed the stream in its windings
until he fell in with le Bourdon.
Such is an outline of the account which Whiskey Centre gave of himself.
It is true, he said very little of his propensity to drink, but this his
companion was enabled to conjecture from the context of his narrative,
as well as from what he had seen. It was very evident to the bee-hunter,
that the plans of both parties for the summer were about to be seriously
deranged by the impending hostilities, and that some decided movement
might be rendered necessary, even for the protection of their lives.
This much he communicated to Gershom, who heard his opinions with
interest, and a concern in behalf of his wife and sister that at least
did some credit to his heart. For the first time in many months, indeed,
Gershom was now PERFECTLY sober, a circumstance that was solely owing to
his having had no access to liquor for eight-and-forty hours. With
the return of a clear head, came juster notions of the dangers and
difficulties in which he had involved the two self-devoted women who
had accompanied him so far, and who really seemed ready to follow him in
making the circuit of the earth.
“It's troublesome times,” exclaimed Whiskey Centre, when his
companion had just ended one of his strong and lucid statements of the
embarrassments that might environ them, ere they could get back to the
settled portions of the country--“it's troublesome times, truly! I see
all you would say, Bourdon, and wonder I ever got my foot so deep
into it, without thinkin' of all, beforehand! The best on us will make
mistakes, hows'ever, and I suppose I've been called on to make mine, as
well as another.”
“My trade speaks for itself,” returned the bee-hunter, “and any man can
see why one who looks for bees must come where they're to be found;
but I will own, Gershom, that your speculation lies a little beyond my
understanding. Now, you tell me you have two full barrels of whiskey--”
“Had, Bourdon--HAD--one of them is pretty nearly half used, I am
afeared.”
“Well, HAD, until you began to be your own customer. But here you are,
squatted at the mouth of the Kalamazoo, with a barrel and a half of
liquor, and nobody but yourself to drink it! Where the profits are to
come from, exceeds Pennsylvany calculations; perhaps a Yankee can tell.”
“You forget the Injins. I met a man at Mackinaw, who only took out
in his canoe ONE barrel, and he brought in skins enough to set up a
grocery, at Detroit. But I was on the trail of the soldiers, and meant
to make a business on't, at Fort Dearborn. What between the soldiers and
the redskins, a man might sell gallons a day, and at fair prices.”
“It's a sorry business at the best, Whiskey; and now you're fairly
sober, if you'll take my advice you'll remain so. Why not make up your
mind, like a man, and vow you'll never touch another drop.”
“Maybe I will, when these two barrels is emptied--I've often thought
of doin' some sich matter; and, ag'in and ag'in, has Dolly and Blossom
advised me to fall into the plan; but it's hard to give up old habits,
all at once. If I could only taper off on a pint a day, for a year
or so, I think I might come round in time. I know as well as you do,
Bourdon, that sobriety is a good thing, and dissipation a bad thing; but
it's hard to give up all at once.”
Lest the instructed reader should wonder at a man's using the term
“dissipation” in a wilderness, it may be well to explain that, in common
American parlance, “dissipation” has got to mean “drunkenness.” Perhaps
half of the whole country, if told that a man, or a woman, might be
exceedingly dissipated and never swallow anything stronger than water,
would stoutly deny the justice of applying the word to such a person.
This perversion of the meaning of a very common term has probably arisen
from the circumstance that there is very little dissipation in the
country that is not connected with hard drinking. A dissipated woman
is a person almost unknown in America; or when the word is applied, it
means a very different degree of misspending of time, from that which
is understood by the use of the same reproach in older and more
sophisticated states of society. The majority rules in this country,
and with the majority excess usually takes this particular aspect;
refinement having very little connection with the dissipation of the
masses, anywhere.
The excuses of his companion, however, caused le Bourdon to muse, more
than might otherwise have been the case, on Whiskey Centre's condition.
Apart from all considerations connected with the man's own welfare, and
the happiness of his family, there were those which were inseparable
from the common safety, in the present state of the country. Boden was a
man of much decision and firmness of character, and he was clear-headed
as to causes and consequences. The practice of living alone had induced
in him the habits of reflection; and the self-reliance produced by his
solitary life, a life of which he was fond almost to a passion, caused
him to decide warily, but to act promptly. As they descended the river
together, therefore, he went over the whole of Gershom Waring's case and
prospects, with great impartiality and care, and settled in his own mind
what ought to be done, as well as the mode of doing it. He kept his own
counsel, however, discussing all sorts of subjects that were of interest
to men in their situation, as they floated down the stream, avoiding any
recurrence to this theme, which was possibly of more importance to them
both, just then, than any other that could be presented.