“Your creeds and dogmas of a learned church
May build a fabric, fair with moral beauty;
But it would seem that the strong hand of God
Can, only, 'rase the devil from the heart.”
--Duo.
While the congregation was separating, Mr. Grant approached the place
where Elizabeth and her father were seated, leading the youthful female
whom we have mentioned in the preceding chapter, and presented her as
his daughter. Her reception was as cordial and frank as the manners of
the country and the value of good society could render it; the two young
women feeling, instantly, that they were necessary to the comfort of
each other, The Judge, to whom the clergyman's daughter was also a
stranger, was pleased to find one who, from habits, sex, and years,
could probably contribute largely to the pleasures of his own child,
during her first privations on her removal from the associations of
a city to the solitude of Templeton; while Elizabeth, who had been
forcibly struck with the sweetness and devotion of the youthful
suppliant, removed the slight embarrassment of the timid stranger by the
ease of her own manners. They were at once acquainted; and, during
the ten minutes that the “academy” was clearing, engagements were made
between the young people, not only for the succeeding day, but they
would probably have embraced in their arrangements half of the winter,
had not the divine interrupted them by saying:
“Gently, gently, my dear Miss Temple, or you will make my girl too
dissipated. You forget that she is my housekeeper, and that my domestic
affairs must remain unattended to, should Louisa accept of half the kind
offers you are so good as to make her.”
“And why should they not be neglected entirely, sir?” interrupted
Elizabeth. “There are but two of you; and certain I am that my
father's house will not only contain you both, but will open its doors
spontaneously to receive such guests. Society is a good not to be
rejected on account of cold forms, in this wilderness, sir; and I have
often heard my father say, that hospitality is not a virtue in a new
country, the favor being conferred by the guest.”
“The manner in which Judge Temple exercises its rites would confirm this
opinion; but we must not trespass too freely. Doubt not that you will
see us often, my child, particularly during the frequent visits that I
shall be compelled to make to the distant parts of the country. But to
obtain an influence with such a people,” he continued, glancing his
eyes toward the few who were still lingering, curious observers of the
interview, “a clergyman most not awaken envy or distrust by dwelling
under so splendid a roof as that of Judge Temple.”
“You like the roof, then, Mr. Grant,” cried Richard, who had been
directing the extinguishment of the fires and other little necessary
duties, and who approached in time to hear the close of the divine's
speech. “I am glad to find one man of taste at last. Here's 'Duke now,
pretends to call it by every abusive name he can invent; but though
'Duke is a tolerable judge, he is a very poor carpenter, let me tell
him. Well, sir, well, I think we may say, without boasting, that the
service was as well per formed this evening as you often see; I think,
quite as well as I ever knew it to be done in old Trinity--that is, if
we except the organ. But there is the school-master leads the psalm with
a very good air. I used to lead myself, but latterly I have sung nothing
but bass. There is a good deal of science to be shown in the bass, and
it affords a fine opportunity to show off a full, deep voice. Benjamin,
too, sings a good bass, though he is often out in the words. Did you
ever hear Benjamin sing the 'Bay of Biscay,'?”
“I believe he gave us part of it this evening,” said Marmaduke,
laughing. “There was, now and then, a fearful quaver in his voice,
and it seems that Mr. Penguillian is like most others who do one thing
particularly well; he knows nothing else. He has, certainly, a wonderful
partiality to one tune, and he has a prodigious self-confidence in that
one, for he delivers himself like a northwester sweeping across the
lake. But come, gentlemen, our way is clear, and the sleigh waits.
Good-evening, Mr. Grant. Good-night, young lady--remember you dine
beneath the Corinthian roof, to-morrow, with Elizabeth.”
The parties separated, Richard holding a close dissertation with Mr. Le
Quoi, as they descended the stairs, on the subject of psalmody, which
he closed by a violent eulogium on the air of the “Bay of Biscay, O,” as
particularly connected with his friend Benjamin's execution.
During the preceding dialogue, Mohegan retained his seat, with his head
shrouded in his blanket, as seemingly inattentive to surrounding objects
as the departing congregation was itself to the presence of the aged
chief, Natty, also, continued on the log where he had first placed
himself, with his head resting on one of his hands, while the other held
the rifle, which was thrown carelessly across his lap. His countenance
expressed uneasiness, and the occasional unquiet glances that he had
thrown around him during the service plainly indicated some unusual
causes for unhappiness. His continuing seated was, how ever, out of
respect to the Indian chief to whom he paid the utmost deference on all
occasions, although it was mingled with the rough manner of a hunter.
The young companion of these two ancient inhabitants of the forest
remained also standing before the extinguished brands, probably from an
unwillingness to depart without his comrades. The room was now deserted
by all but this group, the divine, and his daughter. As the party from
the mansion-house disappeared, John arose, and, dropping the blanket
from his head, he shook back the mass of black hair from his face, and,
approaching Mr. Grant, he extended his hand, and said solemnly:
“Father, I thank you. The words that have been said, since the rising
moon, have gone upward, and the Great Spirit is glad. What you have told
your children, they will remember, and be good.” He paused a moment, and
then, elevating himself with the grandeur of an Indian chief, he added:
“If Chingachgook lives to travel toward the setting sun, after his
tribe, and the Great Spirit carries him over the lakes and mountains
with the breath of his body, he will tell his people the good talk he
has heard; and they will believe him; for who can say that Mohegan has
ever lied?”
“Let him place his dependence on the goodness of Divine mercy,” said Mr.
Grant, to whom the proud consciousness of the Indian sounded a little
heterodox, “and it never will desert him. When the heart is filled with
love to God, there is no room for sin. But, young man, to you I owe not
only an obligation, in common with those you saved this evening on
the mountain, but my thanks for your respectable and pious manner in
assisting in the service at a most embarrassing moment. I should
be happy to see you sometimes at my dwelling, when, perhaps, my
conversation may strengthen you in the path which you appear to have
chosen. It is so unusual to find one of your age and appearance, in
these woods, at all acquainted with our holy liturgy, that it lessens
at once the distance between us, and I feel that we are no longer
strangers. You seem quite at home in the service; I did not perceive
that you had even a book, although good Mr. Jones, had laid several in
different parts of the room.”
“It would be strange if I were ignorant of the service of our church,
sir,” returned the youth modestly; “for I was baptized in its communion
and I have never yet attended public worship elsewhere. For me to use
the forms of any other denomination would be as singular as our own have
proved to the people here this evening.”
“You give me great pleasure, my dear sir,” cried the divine, seizing the
other by the hand, and shaking it cordially. “You will go home with me
now--indeed you must--my child has yet to thank you for saving my life.
I will-listen to no apologies. This worthy Indian, and your friend,
there, will accompany us. Bless me! to think that' he has arrived at
manhood in this country, without entering a dissenting * meeting-house!”
* The divines of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States
commonly call other denominations Dissenters, though there never was
an established church in their own country!
“No, no,” interrupted the Leather-Stocking, “I must away to the wigwam;
there's work there that mustn't be forgotten for all your churchings and
merry-makings. Let the lad go with you in welcome; he is used to keeping
company with ministers, and talking of such matters; so is old John, who
was christianized by the Moravians abouts the time of the old war. But I
am a plain unlarned man, that has sarved both the king and his country,
in his day, agin' the French and savages, but never so much as looked
into a book, or larnt a letter of scholarship, in my born days. I've
never seen the use of much in-door work, though I have lived to be
partly bald, and in my time have killed two hundred beaver in a season,
and that without counting the other game. If you mistrust what I am
telling you, you can ask Chingachgook there, for I did it in the heart
of the Delaware country, and the old man is knowing to the truth of
every word I say.”
“I doubt not, my friend, that you have been both a valiant soldier and
skilful hunter in your day,” said the divine; “but more is wanting to
prepare you for that end which approaches. You may have heard the maxim,
that 'young men may die, but that old men must'.”
“I'm sure I never was so great a fool as to expect to live forever,”
said Natty, giving one of his silent laughs; “no man need do that who
trails the savages through the woods, as I have done, and lives, for the
hot months, on the lake streams. I've a strong constitution, I must say
that for myself, as is plain to be seen; for I've drunk the Onondaga
water a hundred times, while I've been watching the deer-licks, when the
fever-an'-agy seeds was to be seen in it as plain and as plenty as you
can see the rattle snakes on old Crumhorn. But then I never expected to
hold out forever; though there's them living who have seen the German
flats a wilderness; ay! and them that's larned, and acquainted with
religion, too; though you might look a week, now, and not find even the
stump of a pine on them; and that's a wood that lasts in the ground the
better part of a hundred years after the tree is dead.”
“This is but time, my good friend,” returned Mr. Grant, who began to
take an interest in the welfare of his new acquaintance, “but I would
have you prepare for eternity. It is incumbent on you to attend places
of public worship, as I am pleased to see that you have done this
evening. Would it not be heedless in you to start on a day's toil of
hard hunting, and leave your ramrod and flint behind?”
“It must be a young hand in the woods,” interrupted Natty, with another
laugh, “that didn't know how to dress a rod out of an ash sapling or
find a fire-stone in the mountains. No, no, I never expected to live
forever; but I see, times be altering in these mountains from what they
was thirty years ago, or, for that matter, ten years. But might makes
right, and the law is stronger than an old man, whether he is one that
has much laming, or only like me, that is better now at standing at the
passes than in following the hounds, as I once used to could. Heigh-ho!
I never know'd preaching come into a settlement but it made game scarce,
and raised the price of gunpowder; and that's a thing that's not as
easily made as a ramrod or an Indian flint.”
The divine, perceiving that he had given his opponent an argument by his
own unfortunate selection of a comparison, very prudently relinquished
the controversy; although he was fully determined to resume it at a
more happy moment, Repeating his request to the young hunter with great
earnestness, the youth and Indian consented to accompany him and his
daughter to the dwelling that the care of Mr. Jones had provided for
their temporary residence. Leather-Stocking persevered in his intention
of returning to the hut, and at the door of the building they separated.
After following the course of one of the streets of the village a short
distance. Mr. Grant, who led the way, turned into a field, through a
pair of open bars, and entered a footpath, of but sufficient width to
admit one person to walk in at a time. The moon had gained a height that
enabled her to throw her rays perpendicularly on the valley; and the
distinct shadows of the party flitted along on the banks of the silver
snow, like the presence of aerial figures, gliding to their appointed
place of meeting. The night still continued intensely cold, although not
a breath of wind was felt. The path was beaten so hard that the gentle
female, who made one of the party, moved with ease along its windings;
though the frost emitted a low creaking at the impression of even her
light footsteps.
The clergyman in his dark dress of broadcloth, with his mild, benevolent
countenance occasionally turned toward his companions, expressing that
look of subdued care which was its characteristic, presented the first
object in this singular group. Next to him moved the Indian, his hair
falling about his face, his head uncovered, and the rest of his form
concealed beneath his blanket. As his swarthy visage, with its muscles
fixed in rigid composure, was seen under the light of the moon, which
struck his face obliquely, he seemed a picture of resigned old age, on
whom the storms of winter had beaten in vain for the greater part of a
century; but when, in turning his head, the rays fell directly on his
dark, fiery eyes, they told a tale of passions unrestrained, and of
thoughts free as air. The slight person of Miss Grant, which followed
next, and which was but too thinly clad for the severity of the season,
formed a marked contrast to the wild attire and uneasy glances of the
Delaware chief; and more than once during their walk, the young hunter,
himself no insignificant figure in the group, was led to consider the
difference in the human form, as the face of Mohegan and the gentle
countenance of Miss Grant, with eyes that rivalled the soft hue of the
sky, met his view at the instant that each turned to throw a glance at
the splendid orb which lighted their path. Their way, which led through
fields that lay at some distance in the rear of the houses, was cheered
by a conversation that flagged or became animated with the subject. The
first to speak was the divine.
“Really,” he said, “it is so singular a circumstance to meet with one of
your age, that has not been induced by idle curiosity to visit any other
church than the one in which he has been educated, that I feel a strong
curiosity to know the history of a life so fortunately regulated. Your
education must have been excellent; as indeed is evident from your
manners and language. Of which of the States are you a native, Mr.
Edwards? for such, I believe, was the name that you gave Judge Temple.”
“Of this.”
“Of this! I was at a loss to conjecture, from your dialect, which does
not partake, particularly, of the peculiarities of any country with
which I am acquainted. You have, then, resided much in the cities, for
no other part of this country is so fortunate as to possess the constant
enjoyment of our excellent liturgy.”
The young hunter smiled, as he listened to the divine while he so
clearly betrayed from what part of the country he had come himself; but,
for reasons probably connected with his present situation, he made no
answer.
“I am delighted to meet with you, my young friend, for I think an
ingenuous mind, such as I doubt not yours must be, will exhibit all the
advantages of a settled doctrine and devout liturgy. You perceive how I
was compelled to bend to the humors of my hearers this evening. Good
Mr. Jones wished me to read the communion, and, in fact, all the morning
service; but, happily, the canons do not require this of an evening.
It would have wearied a new congregation; but to-morrow I purpose
administering the sacrament, Do you commune, my young friend?”
“I believe not, sir,” returned the youth, with a little embarrassment,
that was not at all diminished by Miss Grant's pausing involuntarily,
and turning her eyes on him in surprise; “I fear that I am not
qualified; I have never yet approached the altar; neither would I wish
to do it while I find so much of the world clinging to my heart.”
“Each must judge for himself,” said Mr. Grant; “though I should think
that a youth who had never been blown about by the wind of false
doctrines, and who has enjoyed the advantages of our liturgy for so
many years in its purity, might safely come. Yet, sir, it is a solemn
festival, which none should celebrate until there is reason to hope it
is not mockery. I observed this evening, in your manner to Judge Temple,
a resentment that bordered on one of the worst of human passions, We
will cross this brook on the ice; it must bear us all, I think, in
safety. Be careful not to slip, my child.” While speaking, he descended
a little bank by the path, and crossed one of the small streams that
poured their waters into the lake; and, turning to see his daughter
pass, observed that the youth had advanced, and was kindly directing her
footsteps. When all were safely over, he moved up the opposite bank,
and continued his discourse. “It was wrong, my dear sir, very wrong, to
suffer such feelings to rise, under any circumstances, and especially in
the present, where the evil was not intended.”
“There is good in the talk of my father,” said Mohegan, stopping short,
and causing those who Were behind him to pause also; “it is the talk
of Miquon. The white man may do as his fathers have told him; but the
'Young Eagle' has the blood of a Delaware chief in his veins; it is
red, and the stain it makes can only be washed out with the blood of a
Mingo.”
Mr. Grant was surprised by the interruption of the Indian, and,
stopping, faced the speaker. His mild features were confronted to the
fierce and determined looks of the chief, and expressed the horror he
felt at hearing such sentiments from one who professed the religion of
his Saviour. Raising his hands to a level with his head, he exclaimed:
“John, John! is this the religion that you have learned from the
Moravians? But no--I will not be so uncharitable as to suppose it. They
are a pious, a gentle, and a mild people, and could never tolerate these
passions. Listen to the language of the Redeemer: 'But I say unto you,
love your enemies; bless them that curse you; do good to them that hate
you; pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you.' This
is the command of God, John, and, without striving to cultivate such
feelings, no man can see Him.”
The Indian heard the divine with attention; the unusual fire of his
eye gradually softened, and his muscles relaxed into their ordinary
composure; but, slightly shaking his head, he motioned with dignity
for Mr. Grant to resume his walk, and followed himself in silence, The
agitation of the divine caused him to move with unusual rapidity along
the deep path, and the Indian, without any apparent exertion, kept an
equal pace; but the young hunter observed the female to linger in her
steps, until a trifling distance intervened between the two former
and the latter. Struck by the circumstance, and not perceiving any
new impediment to retard her footstep, the youth made a tender of his
assistance.
“You are fatigued, Miss Grant,” he said; “the snow yields to the foot,
and you are unequal to the strides of us men. Step on the crust, I
entreat you, and take the help of my arm, Yonder light is, I believe,
the house of your father; but it seems yet at some distance.”
“I am quite equal to the walk,” returned a low, tremulous voice; “but I
am startled by the manner of that Indian, Oh! his eye was horrid, as he
turned to the moon, in speaking to my father. But I forgot, sir; he is
your friend, and by his language may be your relative; and yet of you I
do not feel afraid.”
The young man stepped on the bank of snow, which firmly sustained his
weight, and by a gentle effort induced his companion to follow. Drawing
her arm through his own, he lifted his cap from his head, allowing the
dark locks to flow in rich curls over his open brow, and walked by her
side with an air of conscious pride, as if inviting an examination of
his utmost thoughts. Louisa took but a furtive glance at his person, and
moved quietly along, at a rate that was greatly quickened by the aid of
his arm.
“You are but little acquainted with this peculiar people, Miss Grant,”
he said, “or you would know that revenge is a virtue with an Indian.
They are taught, from infancy upward, to believe it a duty never to
allow an injury to pass unrevenged; and nothing but the stronger claims
of hospitality can guard one against their resentments where they have
power.”
“Surely, sir,” said Miss Grant, involuntarily withdrawing her arm from
his, “you have not been educated with such unholy sentiments?”
“It might be a sufficient answer to your excellent father to say that I
was educated in the church,” he returned; “but to you I will add that
I have been taught deep and practical lessons of forgiveness. I believe
that, on this subject, I have but little cause to reproach myself; it
shall be my endeavor that there yet be less.”
While speaking, he stopped, and stood with his arm again proffered to
her assistance. As he ended, she quietly accepted his offer, and they
resumed their walk.
Mr. Grant and Mohegan had reached the door of the former's residence,
and stood waiting near its threshold for the arrival of their young
companions. The former was earnestly occupied in endeavoring to correct,
by his precepts, the evil propensities that he had discovered in the
Indian during their conversation; to which the latter listened in
Profound but respectful attention. On the arrival of the young hunter
and the lady, they entered the building. The house stood at some
distance from the village, in the centre of a field, surrounded by
stumps that were peering above the snow, bearing caps of pure white,
nearly two feet in thickness. Not a tree nor a shrub was nigh it; but
the house, externally, exhibited that cheer less, unfurnished aspect
which is so common to the hastily erected dwellings of a new country.
The uninviting character of its outside was, however, happily relieved
by the exquisite neatness and comfortable warmth within.
They entered an apartment that was fitted as a parlor, though the large
fireplace, with its culinary arrangements, betrayed the domestic uses
to which it was occasionally applied. The bright blaze from the hearth
rendered the light that proceeded from the candle Louisa produced
unnecessary; for the scanty furniture of the room was easily seen and
examined by the former. The floor was covered in the centre by a carpet
made of rags, a species of manufacture that was then, and yet continues
to be, much in use in the interior; while its edges, that were exposed
to view, were of unspotted cleanliness. There was a trifling air
of better life in a tea-table and work-stand, as well as in an
old-fashioned mahogany bookcase; but the chairs, the dining-table,
and the rest of the furniture were of the plainest and cheapest
construction, Against the walls were hung a few specimens of needle-work
and drawing, the former executed with great neatness, though of somewhat
equivocal merit in their designs, while the latter were strikingly
deficient in both.
One of the former represented a tomb, with a youthful female weeping
over it, exhibiting a church with arched windows in the background. On
the tomb were the names, with the dates of the births and deaths, of
several individuals, all of whom bore the name of Grant. An extremely
cursory glance at this record was sufficient to discover to the young
hunter the domestic state of the divine. He there read that he was
a widower; and that the innocent and timid maiden, who had been his
companion, was the only survivor of six children. The knowledge of the
dependence which each of these meek Christians had on the other
for happiness threw an additional charm around the gentle but kind
attentions which the daughter paid to the father.
These observations occurred while the party were seating themselves
before the cheerful fire, during which time there was a suspension of
discourse. But, when each was comfortably arranged, and Louisa, after
laying aside a thin coat of faded silk, and a gypsy hat, that was more
becoming to her modest, ingenuous countenance than appropriate to the
season, had taken a chair between her father and the youth, the former
resumed the conversation.
“I trust, my young friend,” he said, “that the education you have
received has eradicated most of those revengeful principles which you
may have inherited by descent, for I understand from the expressions
of John that you have some of the blood of the Delaware tribe. Do not
mistake me, I beg, for it is not color nor lineage that constitutes
merit; and I know not that he who claims affinity to the proper owners
of this soil has not the best right to tread these hills with the
lightest conscience.”
Mohegan turned solemnly to the speaker, and, with the peculiarly
significant gestures of an Indian, he spoke:
“Father, you are not yet past the summer of life; your limbs are young.
Go to the highest hill, and look around you. All that you see, from the
rising to the setting sun, from the head-waters of the great spring, to
where the 'crooked river' * is hid by the hills, is his. He has Delaware
blood, and his right is strong.
* The Susquehannah means crooked river; “hannah,” or “hannock,” meant
river in many of the native dialects. Thus we find Rappahannock as
far south as Virginia.
“But the brother of Miquon is just; he will cut the country in two parts,
as the river cuts the lowlands, and will say to the 'Young Eagle,'
'Child of the Delawares! take it--keep it; and be a chief in the land of
your fathers.'”
“Never!” exclaimed the young hunter, with a vehemence that destroyed the
rapt attention with which the divine and his daughter were listening to
the Indian. “The wolf of the forest is not more rapacious for his prey
than that man is greedy of gold; and yet his glidings into wealth are
subtle as the movements of a serpent.”
“Forbear, forbear, my son, forbear,” interrupted Mr. Grant. “These angry
passions most be subdued. The accidental injury you have received from
Judge Temple has heightened the sense of your hereditary wrongs. But
remember that the one was unintentional, and that the other is the
effect of political changes, which have, in their course, greatly
lowered the pride of kings, and swept mighty nations from the face of
the earth. Where now are the Philistines, who so often held the children
of Israel in bondage? or that city of Babylon, which rioted in luxury
and vice, and who styled herself the Queen of Nations in the drunkenness
of her pride? Remember the prayer of our holy litany, where we implore
the Divine Power--'that it may please thee to forgive our enemies,
persecutors, and slanderers, and to turn their hearts. The sin of the
wrongs which have been done to the natives is shared by Judge Temple
only in common with a whole people, and your arm will speedily be
restored to its strength.”
“This arm!” repeated the youth, pacing the floor in violent agitation.
“Think you, sir, that I believe the man a murderer? Oh, no! he is too
wily, too cowardly, for such a crime. But let him and his daughter
riot in their wealth--a day of retribution will come. No, no, no,” he
continued, as he trod the floor more calmly--“it is for Mohegan to
suspect him of an intent to injure me; but the trifle is not worth a
second thought.” He seated himself, and hid his face between his hands,
as they rested on his knees.
“It is the hereditary violence of a native's passion, my child,” said
Mr. Grant in a low tone to his affrighted daughter, who was clinging in
terror to his arm. “He is mixed with the blood of the Indians, you have
heard; and neither the refinements of education nor the advantages of
our excellent liturgy have been able entirely to eradicate the evil. But
care and time will do much for him yet.”
Although the divine spoke in a low tone, yet what he uttered was
heard by the youth, who raised his head, with a smile of indefinite
expression, and spoke more calmly:
“Be not alarmed, Miss Grant, at either the wildness of my manner or that
of my dress. I have been carried away by passions that I should struggle
to repress. I must attribute it, with your father, to the blood in my
veins, although I would not impeach my lineage willingly; for it is
all that is left me to boast of. Yes! I am proud of my descent from
a Delaware chief, who was a warrior that ennobled human nature. Old
Mohegan was his friend, and will vouch for his virtues.”
Mr. Grant here took up the discourse, and, finding the young man
more calm, and the aged chief attentive, he entered into a full and
theological discussion of the duty of forgiveness. The conversation
lasted for more than an hour, when the visitors arose, and, after
exchanging good wishes with their entertainers, they departed. At the
door they separated, Mohegan taking the direct route to the village,
while the youth moved toward the lake. The divine stood at the entrance
of his dwelling, regarding the figure of the aged chief as it glided,
at an astonishing gait for his years, along the deep path; his black,
straight hair just visible over the bundle formed by his blanket, which
was sometimes blended with the snow, under the silvery light of the
moon. From the rear of the house was a window that overlooked the
lake; and here Louisa was found by her father, when he entered, gazing
intently on some object in the direction of the eastern mountain. He
approached the spot, and saw the figure of the young hunter, at the
distance of half a mile, walking with prodigious steps across the wide
fields of frozen snow that covered the ice, toward the point where
he knew the hut inhabited by the Leather-Stocking was situated on the
margin of the lake, under a rock that was crowned by pines and hemlocks.
At the next instant, the wild looking form entered the shadow cast from
the over-hanging trees, and was lost to view.
“It is marvellous how long the propensities of the savage continue in
that remarkable race,” said the good divine; “but if he perseveres as
he has commenced, his triumph shall yet be complete. Put me in mind,
Louisa, to lend him the homily 'against peril of idolatry,' at his next
visit.”
“Surety, father, you do not think him in danger of relapsing into the
worship of his ancestors?”
“No, my child,” returned the clergyman, laying his hand affectionately
on her flaxen locks, and smiling; “his white blood would prevent it; but
there is such a thing as the idolatry of our passions.”