“And yet, poor Edwin was no vulgar boy.”
--Beattie.
The close of Christmas Day, A.D. 1793, was tempestuous, but
comparatively warm. When darkness had again hid the objects in the
village from the gaze of Elizabeth, she turned from the window, where
she had remained while the least vestige of light lingered over the
tops of the dark pines, with a curiosity that was rather excited than
appeased by the passing glimpses of woodland scenery that she had caught
during the day.
With her arm locked in that of Miss Grant, the young mistress of the
mansion walked slowly up and down the hall, musing on scenes that were
rapidly recurring to her memory, and possibly dwelling, at times, in the
sanctuary of her thoughts, on the strange occurrences that had led
to the introduction to her father's family of one whose Manners so
singularly contradicted the inferences to be drawn from his situation.
The expiring heat of the apartment--for its great size required a day
to reduce its temperature--had given to her cheeks a bloom that exceeded
their natural color, while the mild and melancholy features of Louisa
were brightened with a faint tinge, that, like the hectic of disease,
gave a painful interest to her beauty.
The eyes of the gentlemen, who were yet seated around the rich wines of
Judge Temple, frequently wandered from the table, that was placed at one
end of the hall, to the forms that were silently moving over its length.
Much mirth, and that, at times, of a boisterous kind, proceeded from the
mouth of Richard; but Major Hartmann was not yet excited to his pitch
of merriment, and Marmaduke respected the presence of his clerical guest
too much to indulge in even the innocent humor that formed no small
ingredient in his character.
Such were, and such continued to be, the pursuits of the party, for
half an hour after the shutters were closed, and candles were placed in
various parts of the hall, as substitutes for departing daylight. The
appearance of Benjamin, staggering under the burden of an armful of
wood, was the first interruption to the scene.
“How now, Master Pump!” roared the newly appointed sheriff; “is there
not warmth enough in 'Duke's best Madeira to keep up the animal heat
through this thaw? Remember, old boy, that the Judge is particular
with his beech and maple, beginning to dread already a scarcity of
the precious articles. Ha! ha! ha! 'Duke, you are a good, warm-hearted
relation, I will own, as in duty bound, but you have some queer notions
about you, after all. 'Come, let us be jolly, and cast away folly.”
The notes gradually sank into a hum, while the major-domo threw down
his load, and, turning to his interrogator with an air of earnestness,
replied:
“Why, look you, Squire Dickon, mayhap there's a warm latitude round
about the table there, thof it's not the stuff to raise the heat in my
body, neither; the raal Jamaiky being the only thing to do that,
besides good wood, or some such matter as Newcastle coal. But, if I know
anything of the weather, d'ye see, it's time to be getting all snog, and
for putting the ports in and stirring the fires a bit. Mayhap I've not
followed the seas twenty-seven years, and lived another seven in these
here woods, for nothing, gemmen.”
“Why, does it bid fair for a change in the weather, Benjamin?” inquired
the master of the house.
“There's a shift of wind, your honor,” returned the steward; “and when
there's a shift of wind, you may look for a change in this here climate.
I was aboard of one of Rodney's fleet, d'ye see, about the time we licked
De Grasse, Mounsheer Lor Quaw's countryman, there; and the wind was here
at the south'ard and east'ard; and I was below, mixing a toothful of hot
stuff for the captain of marines, who dined, d'ye see, in the cabin, that
there very same day; and I suppose he wanted to put out the captain's
fire with a gun-room ingyne; and so, just as I got it to my own liking,
after tasting pretty often, for the soldier was difficult to please,
slap came the foresail agin' the mast, whiz went the ship round on her
heel, like a whirligig. And a lucky thing was it that our helm was down;
for as she gathered starnway she paid off, which was more than every
ship in the fleet did, or could do. But she strained herself in the
trough of the sea, and she shipped a deal of water over her quarter. I
never swallowed so much clear water at a time in my life as I did then,
for I was looking up the after-hatch at the instant.”
“I wonder, Benjamin, that you did not die with a dropsy!” said
Marmaduke.
“I mought, Judge,” said the old tar, with a broad grin; “but there was
no need of the medicine chest for a cure; for, as I thought the brew was
spoilt for the marine's taste, and there was no telling when another
sea might come and spoil it for mine. I finished the mug on the spot.
So then all hands was called to the pumps, and there we began to ply the
pumps--”
“Well, but the weather?” interrupted Marmaduke; “what of the weather
without doors?”
“Why here the wind has been all day at the south, and now there's a
lull, as if the last blast was out of the bellows; and there's a streak
along the mountains, to the northard, that, just now, wasn't wider than
the bigness of your hand; and then the clouds drive afore it as you'd
brail a mainsail, and the stars are heaving in sight, like so many
lights and beacons, put there to warn us to pile on the wood; and, if
so be that I'm a judge of weather, it's getting to be time to build on
a fire, or you'll have half of them there porter bottles, and them
dimmyjohns of wine, in the locker here, breaking with the frost, afore
the morning watch is called.”
“Thou art a prudent sentinel,” said the Judge. “Act thy pleasure with
the forests, for this night at feast.”
Benjamin did as he was ordered; nor had two hours elapsed, before the
prudence of his precautions became very visible. The south wind had,
indeed, blown itself out, and it was succeeded by the calmness that
usually gave warning of a serious change in the weather. Long before the
family retired to rest, the cold had become cuttingly severe; and when
Monsieur Le Quoi sallied forth under a bright moon, to seek his own
abode, he was compelled to beg a blanket, in which he might envelop c
his form, in addition to the numerous garments that his sagacity had
provided for the occasion. The divine and his daughter remained as
inmates of the mansion-house during the night, and the excess of last
night's merriment induced the gentlemen to make an early retreat to
their several apartments. Long before midnight, the whole family were
invisible.
Elizabeth and her friend had not yet lost their senses in sleep, and
the howlings of the northwest wind were heard around the buildings, and
brought with them that exquisite sense of comfort that is ever excited
under such circumstances, in an apartment where the fire has not yet
ceased to glimmer, and curtains, and shutters, and feathers unite to
preserve the desired temperature. Once, just as her eyes had opened,
apparently in the last stage of drowsiness, the roaring winds brought
with them a long and plaintive howl, that seemed too wild for a dog, and
yet resembled the cries of that faithful animal, when night awakens his
vigilance, and gives sweetness and solemnity to its charms. The form of
Louis Grant instinctively pressed nearer to that of the young heiress,
who, finding her companion was yet awake, said in a low tone, as if
afraid to break a charm with her voice:
“Those distant cries are plaintive, and even beautiful. Can they be the
hounds from the hut of Leather-Stocking?”
“They are wolves, who have ventured from the mountain, on the lake,”
whispered Louisa, “and who are only kept from the village by the lights.
One night, since we have been here, hunger drove them to our very door.
Oh, what a dreadful night it was! But the riches of Judge Temple have
given him too many safeguards, to leave room for fear in this house.”
“The enterprise of Judge Temple is taming the very forests!” exclaimed
Elizabeth, throwing off the covering, and partly rising in the bed. “How
rapidly is civilization treading on the foot of Nature!” she continued,
as her eye glanced over not only the comforts, but the luxuries of her
apartment, and her ear again listened to the distant, but often repeated
howls from the lake. Finding, how-ever, that the timidity of her
companion rendered the sounds painful to her, Elizabeth resumed her
place, and soon forgot the changes in the country, with those in her own
condition, in a deep sleep.
The following morning, the noise of the female servant, who entered the
apartment to light the fire, awoke the females. They arose, and finished
the slight preparations of their toilets in a clear, cold atmosphere,
that penetrated through all the defences of even Miss Temple's warm
room. When Elizabeth was attired, she approached a window and drew its
curtain, and throwing open its shutters she endeavored to look abroad
on the village and the lake. But a thick covering of frost on the glass,
while it admitted the light, shut out the view. She raised the sash, and
then, indeed, a glorious scene met her delighted eye.
The lake had exchanged its covering of unspotted snow for a face of dark
ice, that reflected the rays of the rising sun like a polished mirror.
The houses clothed in a dress of the same description, but which, owing
to its position, shone like bright steel; while the enormous icicles
that were pendent from every roof caught the brilliant light, apparently
throwing it from one to the other, as each glittered, on the side next
the luminary, with a golden lustre that melted away, on its opposite,
into the dusky shades of a background. But it was the appearance of the
boundless forests that covered the hills as they rose in the distance,
one over the other, that most attracted the gaze of Miss Temple. The
huge branches of the pines and hemlocks bent with the weight of the ice
they supported, while their summits rose above the swelling tops of the
oaks, beeches, and maples, like spires of burnished silver issuing from
domes of the same material. The limits of the view, in the west, were
marked by an undulating outline of bright light, as if, reversing the
order of nature, numberless suns might momentarily he expected to heave
above the horizon. In the foreground of the picture, along the shores
of the lake, and near to the village, each tree seemed studded with
diamonds. Even the sides of the mountains where the rays of the sun
could not yet fall, were decorated with a glassy coat, that presented
every gradation of brilliancy, from the first touch of the luminary to
the dark foliage of the hemlock, glistening through its coat of crystal.
In short, the whole view was one scene of quivering radiancy, as lake,
mountains, village, and woods, each emitted a portion of light, tinged
with its peculiar hue, and varied by its position and its magnitude.
“See!” cried Elizabeth; “see, Louisa; hasten to the window, and observe
the miraculous change!”
Miss Grant complied; and, after bending for a moment in silence from the
opening, she observed, in a low tone, as if afraid to trust the sound of
her voice:
“The change is indeed wonderful! I am surprised that he should be able
to effect it so soon.”
Elizabeth turned in amazement, to hear so skeptical a sentiment from one
educated like her companion; but was surprised to find that, instead of
looking at the view, the mild blue eyes of Miss Grant were dwelling on
the form of a well-dressed young man, who was standing before the door
of the building, in earnest conversation with her father. A second look
was necessary before she was able to recognize the person of the young
hunter in a plain, but assuredly the ordinary, garb of a gentleman.
“Everything in this magical country seems to border on the marvellous,”
said Elizabeth; “and, among all the changes, this is certainly not the
least wonderful, The actors are as unique as the scenery.”
Miss Grant colored and drew in her head.
“I am a simple country girl, Miss Temple, and I am afraid you will find
me but a poor companion,” she said. “I--I am not sure that I understand
all you say. But I really thought that you wished me to notice the
alteration in Mr. Edwards, Is it not more wonderful when we recollect
his origin? They say he is part Indian.”
“He is a genteel savage; but let us go down, and give the sachem his
tea; for I suppose he is a descendant of King Philip, if not a grandson
of Pocahontas.”
The ladies were met in the hall by Judge Temple, who took his daughter
aside to apprise her of that alteration in the appearance of their new
inmate, with which she was already acquainted.
“He appears reluctant to converse on his former situation,” continued
Marmaduke “but I gathered from his discourse, as is apparent from his
manner, that he has seen better days; and I am really inclining to the
opinion of Richard, as to his origin; for it was no unusual thing for
the Indian agents to rear their children in a laudable manner, and--”
“Very well, my dear sir,” interrupted his daughter, laughing and
averting her eyes; “it is all well enough, I dare say; but, as I do not
understand a word of the Mohawk language he must be content to speak
English; and as for his behavior, I trust to your discernment to control
it.”
“Ay! but, Bess,” cried the judge, detaining her gently by the hand,
“nothing must be said to him of his past life. This he has begged
particularly of me, as a favor, He is, perhaps, a little soured, just
now, with his wounded arm; the injury seems very light, and another time
he may be more communicative.”
“Oh! I am not much troubled, sir, with that laudable thirst after
knowledge that is called curiosity. I shall believe him to be the
child of Corn-stalk, or Corn-planter, or some other renowned chieftain;
possibly of the Big Snake himself; and shall treat him as such until he
sees fit to shave his good-looking head, borrow some half-dozen pair of
my best earrings, shoulder his rifle again, and disappear as suddenly
as he made his entrance. So come, my dear sir, and let us not forget the
rites of hospitality, for the short time he is to remain with us.”
Judge Temple smiled at the playfulness of his child, and taking her arm
they entered the breakfast parlor, where the young hunter was seated
with an air that showed his determination to domesticate himself in the
family with as little parade as possible.
Such were the incidents that led to this extraordinary increase in the
family of Judge Temple, where, having once established the youth, the
subject of our tale requires us to leave him for a time, to pursue with
diligence and intelligence the employments that were assigned him by
Marmaduke.
Major Hartmann made his customary visit, and took his leave of the party
for the next three months. Mr. Grant was compelled to be absent most of
his time, in remote parts of the country, and his daughter became almost
a constant visitor at the mansion-house. Richard entered, with his
constitutional eagerness, on the duties of his new office; and, as
Marmaduke was much employed with the constant applications of adventures
for farms, the winter passed swiftly away. The lake was the principal
scene for the amusements of the young people; where the ladies, in
their one-horse cutter, driven by Richard, and attended, when the snow
would admit of it, by young Edwards on his skates, spent many hours
taking the benefit of exercise in the clear air of the hills. The
reserve of the youth gradually gave way to time and his situation,
though it was still evident, to a close observer, that he had frequent
moments of bitter and intense feeling.
Elizabeth saw many large openings appear in the sides of the mountains
during the three succeeding months, where different settlers had, in the
language of the country “made their pitch,” while the numberless sleighs
that passed through the village, loaded with wheat and barrels of
potashes, afforded a clear demonstration that all these labors were
not undertaken in vain. In short, the whole country was exhibiting the
bustle of a thriving settlement, where the highways were thronged with
sleighs, bearing piles of rough household furniture, studded, here
and there, with the smiling faces of women and children, happy in the
excitement of novelty; or with loads of produce, hastening to the common
market at Albany, that served as so many snares to induce the emigrants
to enter into those wild mountains in search of competence and
happiness.
The village was alive with business, the artisans increasing in wealth
with the prosperity of the country, and each day witnessing some nearer
approach to the manners and usages of an old-settled town. The man who
carried the mail or “the post,” as he was called, talked much of running
a stage, and, once or twice during the winter, he was seen taking a
single passenger, in his cutter, through the snow-banks, toward the
Mohawk, along which a regular vehicle glided, semi-weekly, with the
velocity of lightning, and under the direction of a knowing whip from
the “down countries,” Toward spring, divers families, who had been into
the “old States” to see their relatives, returned in time to save
the snow, frequently bringing with them whole neighborhoods, who were
tempted by their representations to leave the farms of Connecticut and
Massachusetts, to make a trial of fortune in the woods.
During all this time, Oliver Edwards, whose sudden elevation excited no
surprise in that changeful country, was earnestly engaged in the service
of Marmaduke, during the days; but his nights were often spent in the
hut of Leather-Stocking. The intercourse between the three hunters was
maintained with a certain air of mystery, it is true, but with much zeal
and apparent interest to all the parties. Even Mohegan seldom came to
the mansion-house, and Natty never; but Edwards sought every leisure
moment to visit his former abode, from which he would often return in
the gloomy hours of night through the snow, or, if detained beyond the
time at which the family retired to rest, with the morning sun. These
visits certainly excited much speculation in those to whom they were
known, but no comments were made, excepting occasionally in whispers
from Richard, who would say:
“It is not at all remarkable; a half-breed can never be weaned from
the savage ways--and, for one of his lineage, the boy is much nearer
civilization than could, in reason, be expected.”