"Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad.
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike.
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm;
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time."
Shakespeare.
It was Christmas Eve. It was going to be an old old-fashioned
Christmas, too, there was no mistake about that. And to-night the snow
lay fully two feet deep on the lawn in front of Rowan Tree Villa. The
sky was overspread with masses of darkest cloud that were being
continually driven onward on the wings of a fierce north wind, seldom
permitting even one solitary star to peep out. The storm roared through
the leafless elm trees, and shrieked and moaned among the giant poplars.
It was indeed a wild and wintry night.
Ah! but it didn't prevent my old and faithful Ben from making his
appearance, though what with his long white beard, his snow-clad coat,
and his round, rosy, laughing face, when I went myself to open the hall
door to him, I really took him for King Christmas himself.
But half an hour afterwards, when the crimson curtains were closely
drawn, when the table was laden with good cheer, the two great
Newfoundlands sleeping on the ample hearthrug, old Polly asleep on her
perch, the cat singing on the footstool, and the kettle on the hob, with
Ben at one side of the fire, his pipe in full blast, and myself at the
other, you would have admitted we looked just as snug and jolly as there
was any occasion to be.
"Well, Nie, lad," said Ben, "this is what I call the quintessence of
comfort. Heave round with a yarn."
"Just the thing," said I; "but what shall it be?"
"Well, we're cosy enough here, that's certain, Nie, and as contrasts are
pleasant sometimes, why, let's hear of some doings of yours in the ice
and snow."
"So let it be, Ben; I will tell you of a Christmas I once spent in the
Arctic Ocean."
"Not a very jolly one, I suppose," Ben replied.
"Not so dull as you might imagine, I can tell you. Ours was a brave
brig, as strong as iron and oak could make us. It seemed to me that
there were no icebergs big enough to hurt us. We had spent the summer
whaling in Baffin's Bay. The sport we had, so far as birds and bears
and seals and foxes were concerned, was as good as anyone could have
wished; while the wild grandeur of the scenery, and the very desolation
of some of it, are painted on the tablets of my memory, and will remain
for ever. But we had not the fortune to kill a single whale.
"Then winter came on us all at once, and we found ourselves frozen in,
in one of the dreariest packs of ice it has ever been my lot to lie in.
The days got shorter and shorter, till the sun at last went down to rise
no more for months. We had the glorious aurora, though, and moonlight
and stars, but sometimes for weeks together snows fell and storms raged,
and we were enveloped in total darkness and a silence deep and awful as
that of the very vaults of death. We managed, despite the weather, to
give Christmas a welcome, and were gay enough for a time. Perhaps it
was our very gaiety at this season that caused us to be so gloomy and
disheartened afterwards.
"Sickness came, the black death almost decimated our crew, and when, in
the cold bleak spring-time, the sun returned, and the ice opened and
allowed us to stagger southwards, though the whales were plentiful,
there were not men enough to man the boats, and hardly enough to set the
sails.
"I had been an invalid; indeed, I had barely escaped with life, and it
would be long ere I was fit again for the wild roving existence and wild
sports in which my soul was so much bound up.
"`Come with me, sir,' said our captain when we reached New York at last.
`I'm going south for the good of my health, and I have cousins near San
Francisco, and it is right welcome we both shall be.'
"`Are they ladies?' I asked.
"`Ay, and dear good sisterly girls at that,' he answered.
"My savage nature rather rebelled against the society of ladies, Ben;
bears and wolves were more in my line. But I could not offend my kind
friend, so consented to go.
"`We'll take it easy,' he said, `and have a look at the land as we go
south.'
"We did take it easy. We visited all the lovely and enchanting scenery
of the Adirondacks, then went slowly south and west; we lingered for
weeks in the Yellowstone Park. It was summer, all the woods and forests
were astir with life, the prairies gay with gorgeous flowers; there was
joy all around us; we drank in health in every breath we breathed.
"I felt myself no longer an invalid when we arrived at the home of my
captain's cousins, an old-fashioned log mansion, with verandahs and
porticoes around which gigantic creepers flower-laden trailed and
twined, and cooled the sun's rays that sifted through their leaves, ere
they entered the beautifully-furnished rooms. There were wide, grassy,
park-like lawns, terraces, and fountains, and everything that wealth
could bestow or luxury suggest adorned this lovely spot. The owner was
a retired planter. His servants were still slaves, but the master was
kindness itself to even the meanest of them.
"I would now fain have resumed my old life, and gone with rod or gun in
hand to the forest, the mountain, and stream. But I was not to be
permitted to do so. I must still consider myself an invalid. Such were
the orders of my captain's cousins. So I became a willing captive, and
did all that the dear kind-hearted girls told me.
"And, indeed, sitting under the shade of a cool and leafy orange-tree,
the air perfumed with its delightful scent, with Letitia quietly sewing
beside me, and Miriam reading `The Lady of the Lake,' was as good a way,
Ben, of passing a drowsy summer's afternoon as any I ever tried."
"Didn't you fall in love?" asked Ben slyly.
"Don't ask any questions," I replied. "Stir the fire, my boy; just hear
how the wind is roaring, and the hail rattling against the panes."
"Ugh!" said Ben, with a little shudder as he applied the poker to the
blazing coals. "Well, go on, Nie."
"When I got still a little stronger, we, the captain's cousins and I,
used to go for long rambles to the hills and woods, and sometimes south
to a picnic or dance.
"There are giants in the forests of California, Ben. Once, I remember,
our ball-room was the stump of an old tree, the lofty pines its walls,
and the blue sky its roof.
"As I happened one day to let out rather inadvertently that I was,
virtually speaking, a homeless man, a wanderer over the wide, wide
world, my good host said bluntly, but kindly:
"`Then, my dear sir, you are a prisoner here for the next six months.
Come, I won't take a word of denial.'
"Well, I had to give in, if only for the simple reason that both the
girls added their influence to that of their father; I promised to stay,
and didn't repent it.
"Though I say it myself, Ben, I was soon a favourite with all the slaves
about the old estate. I daresay I had my favourites among them; it is
only natural. One of these was Shoe-Sally, another was Shoe-Sally's
little brother Tom. They were both characters in their way, and both
oddities. Shoe-Sally was quite a personage about the old mansion. She
seemed to do anything and everything, and to be here, there, and
everywhere all at the same time. Shoe-Sally also knew everything, or
appeared to do so, and she was just as black and shiny as the shoes she
polished. Sally was bound up in a little brother of hers called Tom.
"`Leetle tiny Tom,' she told me one day, `is so cleber, sah. He read de
good Book all same's one parson, sah. Make parson hisself one o' dem
days. Sure he will, sah.'
"But Tom had a deadly enemy in the person of Joliffe the overseer, a
perfect brute of a fellow, with slouching gait and murderous eye. How
his master retained him so long I don't know, but he had been overseer
for more than ten years, I was told. Well, he might have been useful in
some ways, but he was terribly cruel. He did not dare to let his master
see him with a whip in his hand, but he had a short thick one in his
pocket with which he flogged the poor slaves most unmercifully.
"Once Shoe-Sally came running to me; I was playing with a little pet dog
belonging to Tom:
"`Oh! for mussy sake, come quick, sah!' she shrieked; `Massa Joliffe he
done whip my pooh brudder most to death.'
"I followed her quickly enough, and I never want to see again what I saw
then. Joliffe had stripped the poor black boy, tied him up in the
stable, and was lashing him across the face and shoulders. He had
injured one eye badly, and the blood was flowing everywhere about.
"`You cowardly savage!' I roared.
"Ben, I have a hard fist. That wretch's head was under my arm in a
moment, and I simply punched it till I was tired, then I threw him into
the stall and let him have a bucket of water over him by way of a
reviver. Joliffe's face was a sight to see for some weeks. I told my
host what I had done, and the verdict was, `Serve Joliffe right!'
"Poor Shoe-Sally came to thank me with the tears streaming over her
honest black cheeks.
"`For what you hab done dis day,' sobbed Sally, `Hebbin will bress you
ebery hour in your life. And, oh, sah!' she added, `Sally will die for
you!'
"I shudder even now, Ben, my friend, when I think of how true, how
terribly true, the latter part of this little grateful speech turned
out.
"Time passed, and I felt happier far in that old Californian home than I
believe I ever did anywhere before. I never once, however, met Joliffe
the overseer, but he scowled a dreadful scowl at me, and I knew he was
inwardly vowing deep revenge. As for the little boy, Tom, he was taken
entirely out of the overseer's charge, and became message-boy and
`buttons' about the house.
"It was before the tremendous civil war had broken out in America, Ben,
and I was very young and just a bit romantic. Perhaps I really was in
love with dear Miriam. At all events, there was nothing I would not
have done for her, and I was never so perfectly, so serenely happy as
when in her sweet presence. But everyone loved Miriam, ay, every slave
about the place, and every beast and every bird. The wandering Indians
that occasionally came around looked upon her as some being better than
themselves, and I believe that even when they were on the war-path she
might have gone to their camps, or to their fastnesses in the
wilderness, and need have dreaded nought of ill.
"It came to pass that Miriam was invited to spend a week at the house of
a friend who lived some twenty miles from the old mansion.
"Her father took her over, and--for sake of the drive we shall say,
Ben--I went along with him. I never enjoyed any drive so much, at all
events. At the end of the week, as my host was not over well, I boldly
volunteered to go alone for Miriam, and my proposition was accepted.
"I should sleep one night at the house where she had gone, and together
we should drive home next day. I knew every foot of the road and every
feature of the scenery; even should we be belated, there would be bright
moonlight. At any time, a ride through the forests and hills of the far
West, when the full moon is shining down from a clear sky, is a treat to
be remembered, but with such companionship as I should enjoy, why, it is
bliss, Ben, and nothing less.
"Now, something out of the common occurred on the very day I left to
bring Miriam home. It was this: both Joliffe and Shoe-Sally were
missed. Poor Tom was disconsolate in the extreme, and went about all
the forenoon with tears coursing along his nose, almost as big as the
silver buttons he wore on his jacket.
"That same day at noon a strange meeting took place between two braves,
apparently Indians, in one of the deepest and darkest nooks of the great
forest. The spot was on the brink of a deep canon almost filled up with
fallen trees, the result of some terrible storm.
"One savage, who evidently belonged to the warlike Apaches, and was a
chief, sat quietly and meditatively smoking. The other leaned upon his
club, and did all the talking, and this most energetically.
"`Ugh!' said the sitting chief; `but the paleface and I am at peace. I
like it not. I care not for his scalp.'
"`But think of the gold I offer you,' said his companion; `think of the
fire-water it will buy you. You will be happy for ever with such wealth
and riches, and think of the _prize_. You are a great chief, this
paleface girl will be brighter than the sunshine in your wigwam, sweeter
far than the wild bee's honey. Think.'
"Nearer and nearer to a rifted tree not far from these two men crept a
dark figure, moving along low on the ground, and as silently as a snake
glides, till their every word became audible, their every gesture
visible.
"There was much more that the club-armed savage said which need not be
repeated. Suffice it to say that the listener heard all, or heard
enough, then retired with the same stealthy gliding motion as it had
approached.
"Miriam and I set out about noon next day on our return journey.
"With our spirited horse, and light waggonette, three hours would have
taken us home easily. But we did not hurry the horse, and it was two
o'clock ere we had accomplished half the distance.
"`We must be quick,' cried Miriam, looking at her watch with some degree
of anxiety depicted on her lovely face.
"She had hardly spoken these words ere an Indian woman tearing a child
on her back in her blanket, suddenly appeared at the bend of the road,
and begged for a few coppers. I felt too happy to refuse, and drew up.
The woman leaned against the wheel, a silver coin glittered in her hand,
and next moment we had driven on.
"Our path now wound along through a beautiful forest, and close by the
banks of a lake.
"The view was charming in the extreme, and I could not help stopping for
just a moment that we might gaze on it. The day was hot and still;
there was silence on the hills, silence on pine wood and lake, broken
only by an occasional plash as a fish leaped up, or a bird stirred the
glassy waters with glad wing. We were almost close to the edge of a
fearful precipice.
"`Get me that flower,' murmured Miriam, pointing to a deep crimson
anemone that grew by the side of the road.
"I sprang down to get it. I had hardly reached the ground ere one of
the front wheels flew off and rolled over the rock; it took all my
strength to support that side of the machine, until Miriam should
alight.
"My thoughts at once reverted to the Indian woman who had leaned against
the wheel. She had doubtless drawn the linch-pin.
"There was treachery of some kind in the wind. But what could it mean?
I never for a moment thought of Joliffe and his possible revenge.
"As quickly as fingers could work, I took out the horse and tied him to
a tree, then I backed the carriage into a sheltering corner of the rock,
and hardly had I done so ere the whole forest resounded with the howling
of vengeful savages.
"I had expected no assistance from Miriam, and was surprised to get it.
But the dear girl had all the courage and coolness in danger of a true
American woman. Armed with a revolver each, we gave those Redskins a
warm reception; and though the bullets rattled on the rocks behind us
like the hail on our window panes, Ben, they retired discomfited.
"We could hardly expect to remain where we were much longer, and hope
itself was sinking in my heart, when the yelling was renewed, and the
Indians came on a second time to the attack.
"Ah! but help was at hand. Savages can _yell_, but there is nothing so
blood-stirring as the wild `hurrah!' of a Briton or an American.
"We heard it now, and sent back cheer for cheer.
"I can hardly describe the scene that followed. It was a fierce
_melee_, a hand-to-hand contest, and dreadful while it lasted. But the
Redskins were beaten, Ben, at length, as Redskins always have been in
the long run who crossed sword or spear against civilised man.
"For the life of me I could never tell how long that fight continued.
It might have been but five minutes--it might have been an hour.
"But there, in the midst of the dead and the dying, stood Miriam, locked
in her father's arms.
"Ben," I continued, after a pause, "the most mournful part of my tale
remains to be told. It was poor, droll, innocent Shoe-Sally who had
followed Joliffe to the forest that day, dodged him while he disguised
himself, and crept after him, and listened to all he had said to the
Apache chief. She had hurried home again and exposed his treachery, and
as it happened our friends were on the spot barely in time to save our
lives."
"And Shoe-Sally?" said Ben; "what became of her?"
"We found her among the dying.
"`My brudder, my brudder!' was all she ever said ere death stepped in
and closed the scene."
There was moisture in my friend's eyes as he bent down to stir the fire.
"`Poor Sally!' he said; `and were these her last words? Well, Nie, we
are all of us brothers and sisters in this world.'"
Yes, my dear readers, all of us, as Ben said, black or white. Remember
that.
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The End.