“There's quart-pot, pint-pot.
Mit-pint, Gill-pot, half-gill, nipperkin.
And the brown bowl--
Here's a health to the barley mow,
My brave boys,
Here's a health to the barley mow.”
--Drinking Song.
Some little commotion was produced by the appearance of the new guests,
during which the lawyer slunk from the room. Most of the men approached
Marmaduke, and shook his offered hand, hoping “that the Judge was well;”
while Major Hartmann having laid aside his hat and wig, and substituted
for the latter a warm, peaked woollen nightcap, took his seat very
quietly on one end of the settee, which was relinquished by its former
occupant. His tobacco-box was next produced, and a clean pipe was handed
him by the landlord. When he had succeeded in raising a smoke, the Major
gave a long whiff, and, turning his head toward the bar, he said:
“Petty, pring in ter toddy.”
In the mean time the Judge had exchanged his salutations with most of
the company, and taken a place by the side of the Major, and Richard had
bustled himself into the most comfortable seat in the room. Mr. Le Quoi
was the last seated, nor did he venture to place his chair finally,
until by frequent removals he had ascertained that he could not possibly
intercept a ray of heat front any individual present. Mohegan found a
place on an end of one of the benches, and somewhat approximated to the
bar.
When these movements had subsided, the Judge remarked pleasantly: “Well,
Betty, I find you retain your popularity through all weathers, against
all rivals, and among all religions. How liked you the sermon?”
“Is it the sarmon?” exclaimed the landlady. “I can't say but it was
rasonable; but the prayers is mighty unasy. It's no small a matter for a
body in their fifty-nint' year to be moving so much in church. Mr. Grant
sames a godly man, any way, and his garrel a hommble on; and a devout.
Here, John, is a mug of cider, laced with whiskey. An Indian will drink
cider, though he niver be athirst.”
“I must say,” observed Hiram, with due deliberation, “that it was a
tongney thing; and I rather guess that it gave considerable
satisfaction, There was one part, though, which might have been left
out, or something else put in; but then I s'pose that, as it was a
written discourse, it is not so easily altered as where a minister
preaches without notes.”
“Ày! there's the rub, Joodge,” cried the landlady. “How can a man stand
up and be preaching his word, when all that he is saying is written
down, and he is as much tied to it as iver a thaving dragoon was to the
pickets?”
“Well, well,” cried Marmaduke, waving his hand for silence, “there is
enough said; as Mr. Grant told us, there are different sentiments on
such subjects, and in my opinion he spoke most sensibly. So, Jotham, I
am told you have sold your betterments to a new settler, and have moved
into the village and opened a school. Was it cash or dicker?”
The man who was thus addressed occupied a seat immediately behind
Marmaduke, and one who was ignorant of the extent of the Judge's
observation might have thought he would have escaped notice. He was of
a thin, shapeless figure, with a discontented expression of countenance,
and with something extremely shiftless in his whole air, Thus spoken to,
after turning and twisting a little, by way of preparation, he made a
reply:
“Why part cash and part dicker. I sold out to a Pumfietman who was
so'thin' forehanded. He was to give me ten dollar an acre for the
clearin', and one dollar an acre over the first cost on the woodland,
and we agreed to leave the buildin's to men. So I tuck Asa Montagu, and
he tuck Absalom Bement, and they two tuck old Squire Napthali Green. And
so they had a meetin', and made out a vardict of eighty dollars for
the buildin's. There was twelve acres of clearin' at ten dollars, and
eighty-eight at one, and the whole came to two hundred and eighty-six
dollars and a half, after paying the men.”
“Hum,” said Marmaduke, “what did you give for the place?”
“Why, besides what's comin' to the Judge, I gi'n my brother Tim a
hundred dollars for his bargain; but then there's a new house on't, that
cost me sixty more, and I paid Moses a hundred dollars for choppin', and
loggin', and sowin', so that the whole stood to me in about two hundred
and sixty dollars. But then I had a great crop oft on't, and as I got
twenty-six dollars and a half more than it cost, I conclude I made a
pretty good trade on't.”
“Yes, but you forgot that the crop was yours without the trade, and you
have turned yourself out of doors for twenty-six dollars.”
“Oh! the Judge is clean out,” said the man with a look of sagacious
calculation; “he turned out a span of horses, that is wuth a hundred and
fifty dollars of any man's money, with a bran-new wagon; fifty dollars
in cash, and a good note for eighty more; and a side-saddle that was
valued at seven and a half--so there was jist twelve shillings betwixt
us. I wanted him to turn out a set of harness, and take the cow and the
sap troughs. He wouldn't--but I saw through it; he thought I should have
to buy the tacklin' afore I could use the wagon and horses; but I knowed
a thing or two myself; I should like to know of what use is the tacklin'
to him! I offered him to trade back agin for one hundred and fifty-five.
But my woman said she wanted to churn, so I tuck a churn for the
change.”
“And what do you mean to do with your time this winter? You must
remember that time is money.”
“Why, as master has gone down country to see his mother, who, they say,
is going to make a die on't, I agreed to take the school in hand till he
comes back, It times doesn't get worse in the spring, I've some notion
of going into trade, or maybe I may move off to the Genesee; they say
they are carryin' on a great stroke of business that-a-way. If the wust
comes to the wust, I can but work at my trade, for I was brought up in a
shoe manufactory.”
It would seem that Marmaduke did not think his society of sufficient
value to attempt inducing him to remain where he was, for he addressed
no further discourse to the man, but turned his attention to other
subjects. After a short pause, Hiram ventured a question:
“What news does the Judge bring us from the Legislature? It's not likely
that Congress has done much this session; or maybe the French haven't
fit any more battles lately?”
“The French, since they have beheaded their king, have done nothing but
fight,” returned the Judge. “The character of the nation seems changed.
I knew many French gentlemen during our war, and they all appeared to
me to be men of great humanity and goodness of heart; but these Jacobins
are as blood thirsty as bull-dogs.”
“There was one Roshambow wid us down at Yorrektown,” cried the landlady
“a mighty pratty man he was too; and their horse was the very same. It
was there that the sargeant got the hurt in the leg from the English
batteries, bad luck to 'em.”
“Oh! mon pauvre roil” muttered Monsieur Le Quoi.
“The Legislature have been passing laws,” continued Marmaduke, “that
the country much required. Among others, there is an act prohibiting the
drawing of seines, at any other than proper seasons, in certain of our
streams and small lakes; and another, to prohibit the killing of deer
in the teeming months. These are laws that were loudly called for by
judicious men; nor do I despair of getting an act to make the unlawful
felling of timber a criminal offence.”
The hunter listened to this detail with breathless attention, and, when
the Judge had ended, he laughed in open derision.
“You may make your laws, Judge,” he cried, “but who will you find to
watch the mountains through the long summer days, or the lakes at night?
Game is game, and he who finds may kill; that has been the law in these
mountains for forty years to my sartain knowledge; and I think one old
law is worth two new ones. None but a green one would wish to kill a doe
with a fa'n by its side, unless his moccasins were getting old, or his
leggins ragged, for the flesh is lean and coarse. But a rifle rings
among the rocks along the lake shore, sometimes, as if fifty pieces were
fired at once--it would be hard to tell where the man stood who pulled
the trigger.”
“Armed with the dignity of the law, Mr. Bumppo,” returned the Judge,
gravely, “a vigilant magistrate can prevent much of the evil that has
hitherto prevailed, and which is already rendering the game scarce. I
hope to live to see the day when a man's rights in his game shall be as
much respected as his title to his farm.”
“Your titles and your farms are all new together,” cried Natty; “but
laws should be equal, and not more for one than another. I shot a
deer, last Wednesday was a fort night, and it floundered through the
snow-banks till it got over a brush fence; I catched the lock of my
rifle in the twigs in following, and was kept back, until finally the
creature got off. Now I want to know who is to pay me for that deer; and
a fine buck it was. If there hadn't been a fence I should have gotten
another shot into it; and I never drawed upon anything that hadn't wings
three times running, in my born days. No, no, Judge, it's the farmers
that makes the game scarce, and not the hunters.”
“Ter teer is not so plenty as in tee old war, Pumppo,” said the Major,
who had been an attentive listener, amid clouds of smoke; “put ter lant
is not mate as for ter teer to live on, put for Christians.”
“Why, Major, I believe you're a friend to justice and the right, though
you go so often to the grand house; but it's a hard case to a man to
have his honest calling for a livelihood stopped by laws, and that, too,
when, if right was done, he mought hunt or fish on any day in the week,
or on the best flat in the Patent, if he was so minded.”
“I unterstant you, Letter-Stockint,” returned the Major, fixing his
black eyes, with a look of peculiar meaning, on the hunter: “put you
didn't use to be so prutent as to look ahet mit so much care.”
“Maybe there wasn't so much occasion,” said the hunter, a little
sulkily; when he sank into a silence from which he was not roused for
some time.
“The Judge was saying so'thin' about the French,” Hiram observed when
the pause in the conversation had continued a decent time.
“Yes, sir,” returned Marmaduke, “the Jacobins of France seem rushing
from one act of licentiousness to an other, They continue those murders
which are dignified by the name of executions. You have heard that they
have added the death of their queen to the long list of their crimes.”
“Les monstres!” again murmured Monsieur Le Quoi, turning himself
suddenly in his chair, with a convulsive start.
“The province of La Vendée is laid waste by the troops of the republic,
and hundreds of its inhabitants, who are royalists in their sentiments,
are shot at a time. La Vendée is a district in the southwest of
France, that continues yet much attached to the family of the Bourbons;
doubtless Monsieur Le Quoi is acquainted with it, and can describe it
more faithfully.”
“Non, non, non, mon cher ami,” returned the Frenchman in a suppressed
voice, but speaking rapidly, and gesticulating with his right hand, as
if for mercy, while with his left he concealed his eyes.
“There have been many battles fought lately,” continued Marmaduke,
“and the infuriated republicans are too often victorious. I cannot
say, however, that I am sorry that they have captured Toulon from the
English, for it is a place to which they have a just right.”
“Ah--ha!” exclaimed Monsieur Le Quoi, springing on his feet and
flourishing both arms with great animation; “ces Anglais!”
The Frenchman continued to move about the room with great alacrity for a
few minutes, repeating his exclamations to himself; when overcome by the
contrary nature of his emotions, he suddenly burst out of the house, and
was seen wading through the snow toward his little shop, waving his arms
on high, as if to pluck down honor from the moon. His departure excited
but little surprise, for the villagers were used to his manner; but
Major Hartmann laughed outright, for the first during his visit, as he
lifted the mug, and observed:
“Ter Frenchman is mat--put he is goot as for noting to trink: he is
trunk mit joy.”
“The French are good soldiers,” said Captain Hollis ter; “they stood
us in hand a good turn at Yorktown; nor do I think, although I am an
ignorant man about the great movements of the army, that his excellency
would have been able to march against Cornwallis without their
reinforcements.”
“Ye spake the trot', sargeant,” interrupted his wife, “and I would iver
have ye be doing the same. It's varry pratty men is the French; and jist
when I stopt the cart, the time when ye was pushing on in front it was,
to kape the riglers in, a rigiment of the jontlemen marched by, and so
I dealt them out to their liking. Was it pay I got? Sure did I, and
in good solid crowns; the divil a bit of continental could they muster
among them all, for love nor money. Och! the Lord forgive me for
swearing and spakeing of such vanities; but this I will say for the
French, that they paid in good silver; and one glass would go a great
way wid 'em, for they gin'rally handed it back wid a drop in the cup;
and that's a brisk trade, Joodge, where the pay is good, and the men not
over-partic'lar.”
“A thriving trade, Mrs. Hollister,” said Marmaduke. “But what has become
of Richard? he jumped up as soon as seated, and has been absent so long
that I am really fearful he has frozen.”
“No fear of that, Cousin 'Duke,” cried the gentleman himself; “business
will sometimes keep a man warm the coldest night that ever snapt in the
mountains. Betty, your husband told me, as we came out of church, that
your hogs were getting mangy, and so I have been out to take a look at
them, and found it true. I stepped across, doctor, and got your boy to
weigh me out a pound of salts, and have been mixing it with their swill.
I'll bet a saddle of venison against a gray squirrel that they are
better in a week. And now, Mrs. Hollister, I'm ready for a hissing mug
of flip.”
“Sure I know'd ye'd be wanting that same,” said the landlady; “it's fixt
and ready to the boiling. Sargeant, dear, be handing up the iron, will
ye?--no, the one on the far fire, it's black, ye will see. Ah! you've
the thing now; look if it's not as red as a cherry.” The beverage was
heated, and Richard took that kind of draught which men are apt to
indulge in who think that they have just executed a clever thing,
especially when they like the liquor.
“Oh! you have a hand. Betty, that was formed to mix flip,” cried
Richard, when he paused for breath. “The very iron has a flavor in it.
Here, John, drink, man, drink! I and you and Dr. Todd have done a good
thing with the shoulder of that lad this very night. 'Duke, I made a
song while you were gone--one day when I had nothing to do; so I'll sing
you a verse or two, though I haven't really determined on the tune yet.
“What is life but a scene of care, Where each one must toil in his way?
Then let us be jolly, and prove that we are A set of good fellows, who
seem very rare, And can laugh and sing all the day. Then let us be jolly
And cast away folly, For grief turns a black head to gray.”
“There, 'Duke, what do you think of that? There is another verse of
it, all but the last line. I haven't got a rhyme for the last line yet.
Well, old John, what do you think of the music? as good as one of your
war-songs, ha?”
“Good!” said Mohegan, who had been sharing deeply in the potations of
the landlady, besides paying a proper respect to the passing mugs of the
Major and Marmaduke.
“Bravo! pravo! Richart,” cried the Major, whose black eyes were
beginning to swim in moisture; “pravisimo his a goot song; put Natty
Pumppo has a petter. Letter-Stockint, vilt sing? say, olt poy, vilt sing
ter song as apout ter wools?”
“No, no, Major,” returned the hunter, with a melancholy shake of the
head, “I have lived to see what I thought eyes could never behold in
these hills, and I have no heart left for singing. If he that has a
right to be master and ruler here is forced to squinch his thirst,
when a-dry, with snow-Water, it ill becomes them that have lived by
his bounty to be making merry, as if there was nothing in the world but
sunshine and summer.”
When he had spoken, Leather-Stocking again dropped his head on his
knees, and concealed his hard and wrinkled features with his hands.
The change from the excessive cold without to the heat of the bar-room,
coupled with the depth and frequency of Richard's draughts, had already
levelled whatever inequality there might have existed between him and
the other guests, on the score of spirits; and he now held out a pair of
swimming mugs of foaming flip toward the hunter, as he cried:
“Merry! ay! merry Christmas to you, old boy! Sun shine and summer! no!
you are blind, Leather-Stocking, 'tis moonshine and winter--take these
spectacles, and open your eyes--
So let us be jolly,
And cast away folly,
For grief turns a black head to gray.
--Hear how old John turns his quavers. What damned dull music an Indian
song is, after all, Major! I wonder if they ever sing by note.”
While Richard was singing and talking, Mohegan was uttering dull,
monotonous tones, keeping time by a gentle motion of his head and body.
He made use of but few words, and such as he did utter were in his
native language, and consequently only understood by himself and Natty.
Without heeding Richard, he continued to sing a kind of wild, melancholy
air, that rose, at times, in sudden and quite elevated notes, and then
fell again into the low, quavering sounds that seemed to compose the
character of his music.
The attention of the company was now much divided, the men in the rear
having formed themselves into little groups, where they were discussing
various matters; among the principal of which were the treatment of
mangy hogs and Parson Grant's preaching; while Dr. Todd was endeavoring
to explain to Marmaduke the nature of the hurt received by the young
hunter. Mohegan continued to sing, while his countenance was becoming
vacant, though, coupled with his thick, bushy hair, it was assuming
an expression very much like brutal ferocity. His notes were gradually
growing louder, and soon rose to a height that caused a general
cessation in the discourse. The hunter now raised his head again, and
addressed the old warrior warmly in the Delaware language, which, for
the benefit of our readers, we shall render freely into English.
“Why do you sing of your battles, Chingachgook, and of the warriors you
have slain, when the worst enemy of all is near you, and keeps the Young
Eagle from his rights? I have fought in as many battles as any warrior
in your tribe, but cannot boast of my deeds at such a time as this.”
“Hawk-eye,” said the Indian, tottering with a doubtful step from his
place, “I am the Great Snake of the Delawares; I can track the Mingoes
like an adder that is stealing on the whip-poor-will's eggs, and
strike them like the rattlesnake dead at a blow. The white man made the
tomahawk of Chingachgook bright as the waters of Otsego, when the last
sun is shining; but it is red with the blood of the Maquas.”
“And why have you slain the Mingo warriors? Was it not to keep these
hunting-grounds and lakes to your father's children? and were they not
given in solemn council to the Fire-eater? and does not the blood of a
warrior run in the veins of a young chief, who should speak aloud where
his voice is now too low to be heard?”
The appeal of the hunter seemed in some measure to recall the confused
faculties of the Indian, who turned his face toward the listeners and
gazed intently on the Judge. He shook his head, throwing his hair
back from his countenance, and exposed eyes that were glaring with an
expression of wild resentment. But the man was not himself. His hand
seemed to make a fruitless effort to release his tomahawk, which was
confined by its handle to his belt, while his eyes gradually became
vacant. Richard at that instant thrusting a mug before him, his features
changed to the grin of idiocy, and seizing the vessel with both hands,
he sank backward on the bench and drank until satiated, when he made an
effort to lay aside the mug with the helplessness of total inebriety.
“Shed not blood!” exclaimed the hunter, as he watched the countenance
of the Indian in its moment of ferocity; “but he is drunk and can do no
harm. This is the way with all the savages; give them liquor, and they
make dogs of themselves. Well, well--the day will come when right will
be done; and we must have patience.”
Natty still spoke in the Delaware language, and of course was not
understood. He had hardly concluded before Richard cried:
“Well, old John is soon sewed up. Give him a berth, captain, in the
barn, and I will pay for it. I am rich to night, ten times richer than
'Duke, with all his lands, and military lots, and funded debts, and
bonds, and mortgages,
'Come, let us be jolly,
And cast away folly, For grief---'
“Drink, King Hiram--drink, Mr. Doo-nothing---drink, sir, I say. This is a
Christmas eve, which comes, you know, but once a year.”
“He! he! he! the squire is quite moosical to-night,” said Hiram, whose
visage began to give marvellous signs of relaxation. “I rather guess we
shall make a church on't yet, squire?”
“A church, Mr. Doolittle! we will make a cathedral of it! bishops,
priests, deacons, wardens, vestry, and choir; organ, organist, amid
bellows! By the Lord Harry, as Benjamin says, we will clap a steeple on
the other end of it, and make two churches of it. What say you, 'Duke,
will you pay? ha! my cousin Judge, wilt pay?”
“Thou makest such a noise, Dickon,” returned Marmaduke, “it is
impossible that I can hear what Dr. Todd is saying. I think thou
observedst, it is probable the wound will fester, so as to occasion
danger to the limb in this cold weather?”
“Out of nater, sir, quite out of nater,” said Elnathan, attempting to
expectorate, but succeeding only in throwing a light, frothy substance,
like a flake of snow, into the fire--“quite out of nater that a wound
so well dressed, and with the ball in my pocket, should fester. I
s'pose, as the Judge talks of taking the young man into his house, it
will be most convenient if I make but one charge on't.”
“I should think one would do,” returned Marmaduke, with that arch smile
that so often beamed on his face; leaving the beholder in doubt whether
he most enjoyed the character of his companion or his own covert humor.
The landlord had succeeded in placing the Indian on some straw in one
of his outbuildings, where, covered with his own blanket, John continued
for the remainder of the night.
In the mean time, Major Hartmann began to grow noisy and jocular; glass
succeeded glass, and mug after mug was introduced, until the carousal
had run deep into the night, or rather morning; when the veteran German
expressed an inclination to return to the mansion-house. Most of the
party had already retired, but Marmaduke knew the habits of his friend
too well to suggest an earlier adjournment. So soon, however, as the
proposal was made, the Judge eagerly availed himself of it, and the trio
prepared to depart. Mrs. Hollister attended them to the door in person,
cautioning her guests as to the safest manner of leaving her premises.
“Lane on Mister Jones, Major,” said she “he's young and will be a
support to ye. Well, it's a charming sight to see ye, anyway, at the
Bould Dragoon; and sure it's no harm to be kaping a Christmas eve wid a
light heart, for it's no telling when we may have sorrow come upon
us. So good-night, Joodge, and a merry Christmas to ye all tomorrow
morning.”
The gentlemen made their adieus as well as they could, and taking the
middle of the road, which was a fine, wide, and well-beaten path, they
did tolerably well until they reached the gate of the mansion-house:
but on entering the Judge's domains they encountered some slight
difficulties. We shall not stop to relate them, but will just mention
that in the morning sundry diverging paths were to be seen in the snow;
and that once during their progress to the door, Marmaduke, missing his
companions, was enabled to trace them by one of these paths to a spot
where he discovered them with nothing visible but their heads, Richard
singing in a most vivacious strain:
“Come, let us be jolly, And cast away folly, For grief turns a black
head to gray.”