"Well, I am your theme: you have the start of me. I am dejected; I am
not able to answer the Welsh flannel; ignorance itself is a plummet
over me: use me as you will."
Merry Wives of Windsor.
Poets, aided by the general longing of human nature, have given a
reputation to the Spring, that it rarely merits. Though this imaginative
class of writers have said so much of its balmy airs and odoriferous
gales, we find it nearly everywhere the most reluctant, churlish, and
fickle of the four seasons. It is the youth of the year, and, like that
probationary period of life, most fitted to afford the promise of better
things. There is a constant struggle between reality and hope throughout
the whole of this slow-moving and treacherous period, which has an
unavoidable tendency to deceive. All that is said of its grateful
productions is fallacious, for the earth is as little likely to yield a
generous tribute without the quickening influence of the summer heats, as
man is wont to bring forth commendable fruits without the agency of a
higher moral power than any he possesses in virtue of his innate
propensities. On the other hand, the fall of the year, possesses a
sweetness, a repose, and a consistency, which may be justly likened to the
decline of a well-spent life. It is, in all countries and in every
climate, the period when physical and moral causes unite to furnish the
richest sources of enjoyment. If the Spring is the time of hope, Autumn is
the season of fruition. There is just enough of change to give zest to the
current of existence, while there is too little of vicissitude to be
pregnant of disappointment. Succeeding to the nakedness of Winter, the
Spring is grateful by comparison; while the glories of Autumn are enjoyed,
after the genial powers of Summer have been lavishly expended.
In obedience to this great law of the earth, let poets sing and fancy as
they may, the Spring and Autumn of America partake largely of the
universally distinctive characters of the rival seasons. What Nature has
done on this Continent, has not been done niggardly; and, while we may
boast of a decline of the year that certainly rivals, and, with few
exceptions, eclipses the glories of most of the climates of the old world,
the opening months rarely fail of equalizing the gifts of Providence, by a
very decided exhibition of all the disagreeable qualities for which they
are remarkable.
More than half a year had elapsed, between the time when the Indian boy
had been found lurking in the valley of the Heathcotes, and that day when
he was first permitted to go into the forest, fettered by no other
restraint than the moral tie which the owner of the valley either knew, or
fancied, would not fail to cause him to return to a bondage he had found
so irksome. It was April; but it was April as the month was known a
century ago in Connecticut, and as it is even now so often found to
disappoint all expectations of that capricious season of the year. The
weather had returned suddenly and violently to the rigor of winter. A thaw
had been succeeded by a storm of snow and sleet, and the interlude of the
spring-time of blossoms had terminated with a biting gale from the
north-west, which had apparently placed a permanent seal on the lingering
presence of a second February.
On the morning that Content led his followers into the forest, they issued
from the postern clad in coats of skin. Their lower limbs were protected
by the coarse leggings which they had worn in so many previous hunts,
during the past winter, if that might be called past which had returned,
weakened but little of its keenness, and bearing all the outward marks of
January. When last seen, Eben Dudley, the heaviest of the band, was moving
firmly on the crust of the snow, with a step as sure as if he had trodden
on the frozen earth itself. More than one of the maidens declared, that
though they had endeavored to trace the footsteps of the hunters from the
palisadoes, it would have exceeded even the sagacity of an Indian eye to
follow their trail along the icy path they travelled.
Hour after hour passed, without bringing tidings from the chase. The
reports of fire-arms had indeed been occasionally heard, ringing among the
arches of the woods; and broken echoes were, for some hours, rolling from
one recess of the hills to another. But even these signs of the presence
of the hunters gradually receded with the advance of the day; and, long
ere the sun had gained the meridian, and its warmth, at that advanced
season not without power, was shed into the valley, the whole range of the
adjoining forest lay in its ordinary dull and solemn silence.
The incident of the hunt, apart from the absence of the Indian boy, was
one of too common occurrence to give birth to any particular motives of
excitement. Ruth quietly busied herself among her women, and when the
recollection of those who were scouring the neighboring forest came at all
to her mind, it was coupled with the care with which she was providing to
administer to their comforts after the fatigue of a day of extraordinary
personal efforts. This was a duty never lightly performed. Her situation
was one eminently fitted to foster the best affections of woman, since it
admitted of few temptations to yield to other than the most natural
feeling; she was, in consequence, known on all occasions to exercise them
with the devotedness of her sex.
"Thy father and his companions will look on our care with pleasure," said
the thoughtful matron to her youthful image, as she directed a more than
usual provision of her larder to be got in readiness for the hunters;
"home is ever sweetest after toil and exposure."
"I doubt if Mark be not ready to faint with so weary a march," said the
child already introduced by the name of Martha; "he is young to go into
the woods, with scouters tall as great Dudley."
"And the heathen," added the little Ruth, "he is young too as Mark,
though more used to the toil. It may be, mother, that he will never come
to us more!"
"That would grieve our venerable parent; for thou knowest, Ruth, that he
hath hopes of working on the mind of the boy, until his savage nature
shall yield to the secret power. But the sun is falling behind the hill,
and the evening is coming in cool as winter; go to the postern, and look
out upon the fields. I would know if there be any signs of thy father and
his party."
Though Ruth gave this mandate to her daughter, she did not the less
neglect to exercise her own faculties in the same grateful office. While
the children went, as they were ordered, to the outer gate, the matron
herself ascended to the lower apartment of the block, and, from its
different loops, she took a long and anxious survey of the limited
prospect. The shadows of the trees, that lined the western side of the
view, were already thrown far across the broad sheet of frozen snow, and
the sudden chill which succeeded the disappearance of the sun announced
the rapid approach of a night that promised to support the severe
character of the past day. A freezing wind, which had brought with it the
cold airs of the great lakes, and which had even triumphed over the more
natural influence of an April sun, had however fallen, leaving a
temperature not unlike that which dwells in the milder seasons of the year
among the glaciers of the upper Alps.
Ruth was too long accustomed to such forest scenes, and to such a
"lingering of winter in the lap of May," to feel, on their account, any
additional uneasiness. But the hour had now arrived when she had reason to
look for the return of the hunters. With the expectation of seeing their
forms issuing from the forest, came the anxiety which is an unavoidable
attendant of disappointment. The shadows continued to deepen in the
valley, until the gloom thickened to the darkness of night, without
bringing any tidings from those without.
When a delay, which was unusual in the members of a family circumstanced
like that of the Wish-Ton-Wish, came to be coupled with various little
observations that had been made during the day, it was thought that
reasons for alarm were beginning, at each instant, to grow more plausible.
Reports of fire-arms had been heard, at an early hour, from opposite
points in the hills, and in a manner too distinct to be mistaken for
echoes; a certain proof that the different members of the hunt had
separated in the forest. Under such circumstances, it was not difficult
for the imagination of a wife and a mother, of a sister, or of her who
secretly confessed a still more tender interest in some one of the
hunters, to conjure to the imagination the numberless dangers to which
those who were engaged in these expeditions were known to be exposed.
"I doubt that the chase hath drawn them further from the valley than is
fitting for the hour and the season," observed Ruth to her maidens, who
had gathered in a group about her, at a point that overlooked as much of
the cleared land around the buildings, as the darkness would allow; "the
gravest man becomes thoughtless as the unreflecting child when led by the
eagerness of the pursuit. It is the duty of older heads to think for those
that want experience--but into what indiscreet complaints are my fears
leading! It may be that my husband is even now striving to collect his
party, in order to return. Hast any heard his conch sounding the recall?"
"The woods are still as the day the first echo of the axe was heard
among the trees," returned Faith. "I did hear that which sounded like a
strain of brawling Dudley's songs, but it proved to be no more than the
lowing of one of his own oxen. Perchance the animal misseth some of its
master's care."
"Whittal Ring hath looked to the beasts, and it may not be that he hath
neglected to feed, among others, the creatures of Dudley. Thy mind is
given to levity, Faith, in the matter of this young man. It is not seemly
that one of thy years and sex should manifest so great displeasure at the
name of a youth, who is of an honest nature, and of honest habits, too,
though he may appear ungainly to the eye, and have so little favor with
one of thy disposition."
"I did not fashion the man," said Faith, biting her lip, and tossing her
head; "nor is it aught to me whether he be gainly or not. As to my favor
when he asks it, the man shall not wait long to know the answer. But is
not yon figure the fellow himself, Madam Heathcote?--here, coming in from
the eastern hill, along the orchard path. The form I mean is just here;
you may see it, at this moment, turning by the bend in the brook."
"There is one of a certainty, and it should be one of our hunting party,
too; and yet he doth not seem to be of a size or of a gait like that of
Eben Dudley. Thou shouldst have a knowledge of thy kindred, girl; to me it
seemeth thy brother."
"Truly, it may be Reuben Ring; still it hath much of the swagger of the
other, though their stature be nearly equal--the manner of carrying the
musket is much the same with all the borderers too--one cannot easily tell
the form of man from a stump by this light--and--yet do I think it will
prove to be the loitering Dudley."
"Loiterer or not, he is the first to return from this long and weary
chase," said Ruth, breathing heavily, like one who regretted that the
truth were so. "Go thou to the postern, and admit him, girl. I ordered
bolts to be drawn, for I like not to leave a fortress defended by a female
garrison, at this hour, with open gates. I will hie to the dwelling, and
see to the comforts of those who are a-hungered, since it will not be long
ere we shall have more of them at hand."
Faith complied, with affected indifference and sufficient delay. By the
time she had reached the place of admission, a form was seen ascending the
acclivity, and taking the direction which led to the same spot. In the
next minute, a rude effort to enter announced an arrival without.
"Gently, Master Dudley," said the wilful girl, who held the bolt with
one hand, though she maliciously delayed to remove it. "We know thou
art powerful of arm, and yet the palisadoes will scarcely fall at thy
touch. Here are no Sampsons to pull down the pillars on our heads.
Perhaps we may not be disposed to give entrance to them who stay
abroad out of all season."
"Open the postern, girl," said Eben Dudley, "after which, if thou hast
aught to say, we shall be better convenienced for discourse."
"It may be that thy conversation is most agreeable when heard from
without. Render an account of thy backslidings, throughout this day,
penitent Dudley, that I may take pity on thy weariness. But lest hunger
should have overcome thy memory, I may serve to help thee to the
particulars. The first of thy offences was to consume more than thy
portion of the cold meats; the second was to suffer Reuben Ring to kill
the deer, and for thee to claim it; and a third was the trick thou hast of
listening so much to thine own voice, that even the blasts fled thee, from
dislike of thy noise."
"Thou triflest unseasonably, Faith; I would speak with the Captain,
without delay."
"It may be that he is better employed than to desire such company. Thou
art not the only strange animal by many who hath roared at the gate of
Wish-Ton-Wish."
"Have any come within the day, Faith?" demanded the borderer, with the
interest such an event would be likely to create in the mind of one who
habitually lived in so great retirement.
"What sayest thou to a second visit from the gentle-spoken stranger? he
who favored us with so much gay discourse, the by-gone fall of the year.
That would be a guest fit to receive! I warrant me his knock would not be
heard a second time."
"The gallant had better beware the moon!" exclaimed Dudley, striking the
but of his musket against the ice with so much force as to cause his
companion to start, in alarm. "What fool's errand hath again brought him
to prick his nag so deep into the forest?"
"Nay, thy wit is ever like the unbroken colt, a headstrong run-away. I
said not, in full meaning that the man had come; I only invited thee to
give an opinion in the event that he should arrive unexpectedly, though I
am far from certain that any here ever expect to see his face again."
"This is foolish prating," returned the youth, provoked at the exhibition
of jealousy into which he had been incautiously betrayed. "I tell thee to
withdraw the bolt, for I have great need to speak with the Captain, or
with his son."
"Thou mayst open thy mind to the first, if he will listen to what thou
hast to say," returned the girl, removing the impediment to his entrance;
"but thou wilt sooner get the ear of the other by remaining at the gate,
since he has not yet come in from the forest."
Dudley recoiled a pace, and repeated her words in the tone of one who
admitted a feeling of alarm to mingle with his surprise.
"Not in from the forest!" he said; "surely there are none abroad, now that
I am home!"
"Why dost say it? I have put my jibes upon thee more in payment of ancient
transgressions than for any present offence. So far from being last, thou
art the first of the hunters we have yet seen. Go in to the Madam without
delay, and tell her of the danger, if any there be, that we take speedy
measures for our safety."
"That would do little good, truly," muttered the borderer, like one
musing. "Stay thou here, and watch the postern, Faith; I will back to the
woods; for a timely word, or a signal blown from my conch, might quicken
their footsteps."
"What madness hath beset thee, Dudley! Thou wouldst not go into the forest
again, at this hour and alone, if there be reason for fear! Come farther
within the gate, man, that I may draw the bolt the Madam will wonder that
we tarry here so long."
"Ha!--I hear feet moving in the meadow; I know it by the creaking of the
snow; the others are not lagging."
Notwithstanding the apparent certainty of the young man, instead of going
forth to meet his friends, he withdrew a step, and with his own hand drew
the bolt that Faith had just desired might be fastened; taking care at the
same time to let fall a swinging bar of wood, which gave additional
security to the fastenings of the postern. His apprehensions, if any such
had induced this caution, were however unnecessary; for ere he had time to
make, or even to reflect on any further movement, admission was demanded
in the well-known voice of the son of him who owned the valley. The bustle
of the arrival, for with Content entered a group of companions loaded with
venison, put an end to the dialogue. Faith seized the opportunity to glide
away in the obscurity, in order to announce to her mistress that the
hunters had returned--an office that she performed without entering at all
into the particulars of her own interview with Eben Dudley.
It is needless to dwell on the satisfaction with which Ruth received her
husband and son, after the uneasiness she had just suffered. Though the
severe manners of the Province admitted of no violent exhibition of
passing emotions, secret joy was reigning in the mild eyes and glowing
about the flushed cheeks of the discreet matron, while she personally
officiated in the offices of the evening meal.
The party had returned teeming with no extraordinary incidents; nor did
they appear to be disturbed with any of that seriousness of air which had
so unequivocally characterized the deportment of him who had preceded
them. On the contrary, each had his quiet tale to relate, now perhaps at
the expense of a luckless companion, and sometimes in order that no part
of his own individual skill, as a hunter, should be unknown. The delay was
accounted for, as similar delays are commonly explained, by distance and
the temptations of an unusually successful chase. As the appetites of
those who had passed the day in the exciting toil were keen and the viands
tempting, the first half-hour passed quickly, as all such half-hours are
wont to pass, in garrulous recitals of personal exploits, and of the
hairbreadth escapes of deer, which, had fortune not been fickle, should
have now been present as trophies of the skill of the hand by which they
fell. It was only after personal vanity was sufficiently appeased, and
when the hunger even of a border-man could achieve no more, that the
hunters began to look about them with a diminished excitement, and to
discuss the events of the day with a fitting calmness, and with a
discretion more suited to their ordinary self-command.
"We lost the sound of thy conch, wandering Dudley, as we fell into the
deep hollow of the mountain," said Content, in a pause of the discourse;
"since which time, neither eye nor ear of any has had trace of thy
movements, until we met thee at the postern, stationed like a looker-out
on his watch."
The individual addressed had mingled in none of the gaiety of the hour.
While others fed freely, or joined in the quiet joke, which could escape
the lips of even men chastened as his companions, Eben Dudley had tasted
sparingly of the viands. Nor had the muscles of his hard countenance once
relaxed in a smile. A gravity and silence so extraordinary, in one so
little accustomed to exhibit either quality, did not fail to attract
attention. It was universally ascribed to the circumstance that he had
returned empty-handed from the hunt: and now that one having authority
had seen fit to give such a direction to the discourse, the imaginary
delinquent was not permitted to escape unscathed.
"The butcher had little to do with this day's killing," said one of the
young men; "as a punishment for his absence from the slaughter, he should
be made to go on the hill and bring in the two bucks he will find hanging
from a maple sapling near to the drinking spring. Our meat should pass
through his hands in some fashion or other, else will it lack savor."
"Ever since the death of the straggling wether, the trade of Eben hath
been at a stand," added another; "the down-hearted youth seems like one
ready to give up his calling to the first stranger that shall ask it."
"Creatures which run at large prove better mutton than the stalled
wether," continued a third; "and thereby custom was getting low before
this hunt. Beyond a doubt, he has a full supply for all who shall be
likely to seek venison in his stall."
Ruth observed that the countenance of her husband grew grave, at these
allusions to an event he had always seemed to wish forgotten; and she
interposed with a view to lead the minds of those who listened, back to
matter more fitting to be discussed.
"How is this?" she exclaimed in haste; "hath the stout Dudley lost any of
his craft? I have never counted with greater certainty on the riches of
the table, than when he hath been sent among the hills for the fat deer,
or the tender turkey. It would much grieve me to learn that he beginneth
to lack the hunter's skill."
"The man is getting melancholy with over-feeding," muttered the wilful
tones of one busied among the vessels, in a distant part of the room. "He
taketh his exercise alone, in order that none need discover the failing.
I think he be much disposed to go over sea, in order to become a trooper."
Until now, the subject of these mirthful attacks had listened like one too
confident of his established reputation to feel concern; but at the sound
of the last speaker's voice, he grasped the bushy covering of one entire
cheek in his hand, and turning a reproachful and irritated glance at the
already half-repentant eye of Faith Ring, all his natural spirit returned.
"It may be that my skill hath left me," he said, "and that I love to be
alone, rather than to be troubled with the company of some that might
readily be named, no reference being had to such gallants as ride up and
down the colony, putting evil opinions into the thoughts of honest men's
daughters; but why is Eben Dudley to bear all the small shot of your
humors, when there is another who, it might seem, hath strayed even
further from your trail than he?"
Eye sought eye, and each youth by hasty glances endeavored to read the
countenances of all the rest in company, in order to learn who the
absentee might be. The young borderers shook their heads, as the features
of every well-known face were recognised, and a general exclamation of
denial was about to break from their lips, when Ruth exclaimed--
"Truly, the Indian is wanting!"
So constant was the apprehension of danger from the savages, in the
breasts of those who dwelt on that exposed frontier, that every man arose
at the words, by a sudden and common impulse, and each individual gazed
about him in a surprise that was a little akin to dismay.
"The boy was with us when we quitted the forest," said Content, after a
moment of death-like stillness. "I spoke to him in commendation of his
activity, and of the knowledge he had shown in beating up the secret
places of the deer; though there is little reason to think my words were
understood."
"And were it not sinful to take such solemn evidence in behalf of so light
a matter, I could be qualified on the Book itself, that he was at my elbow
as we entered the orchard," added Reuben Ring, a man renowned in that
little community for the accuracy of his vision.
"And I will make oath or declaration of any sort, lawful or conscientious,
that he came not within the postern when it was opened by my own hand,"
returned Eben Dudley. "I told off the number of the party as you passed,
and right sure am I that no red skin entered."
"Canst thou tell us aught of the lad?" demanded Ruth, quick to take the
alarm on a subject that had so long exercised her care, and given food to
her imagination.
"Nothing. With me he hath not been since the turn of the day. I have not
seen the face of living man from that moment, unless in truth one of
mysterious character, whom I met in the forest, may be so called."
The manner in which the woodsman spoke was too serious and too natural,
not to give birth in his auditors to some of his own gravity. Perhaps the
appearance of the Puritan, at that moment, aided in quieting the levity
that had been uppermost in the minds of the young men; for, it is certain,
that when he entered, a deeper and a general curiosity came over the
countenances of all present. Content waited a moment in respectful
silence, till his father had moved slowly through the circle, and then he
prepared himself to look further into an affair that began to assume the
appearance of matter worthy of investigation.