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MARCO PAUL'S VOYAGES & TRAVELS: VERMONT
by
JACOB ABBOTT
1852
Preface.
The design of the series of volumes, entitled MARCO PAUL'S ADVENTURES
IN THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE, is not merely to entertain the reader
with a narrative of juvenile adventures, but also to communicate, in
connection with them, as extensive and varied information as possible,
in respect to the geography, the scenery, the customs and the
institutions of this country, as they present themselves to the
observation of the little traveler, who makes his excursions under the
guidance of an intelligent and well-informed companion, qualified to
assist him in the acquisition of knowledge and in the formation of
character. The author has endeavored to enliven his narrative, and to
infuse into it elements of a salutary moral influence, by means of
personal incidents befalling the actors in the story. These incidents
are, of course, imaginary--but the reader may rely upon the strict
and exact truth and fidelity of all the descriptions of places,
institutions and scenes, which are brought before his mind in the
progress of the narrative. Thus, though the author hopes that the
readers who may honor these volumes with their perusal, will be amused
and interested by them, his design throughout will be to instruct
rather than to entertain.
Contents.
I. Journeying
II. Accidents
III. The Grass Country
IV. The Village
V. Studying
VI. The Log Canoe
VII. A Dilemma
VIII. A Confession
IX. Boating
X. An Expedition
XI. Lost In The Woods
Engravings.
The Great Elm
The Hill
The Accident
Who Are You?
The Lumber Box
The Tire
The Risk
The Study
Marco's Desk
Boat Adrift
Cap Gone
The Millman's House
Paddling
Marco's Room
Toss
Bad Rowing
Good Rowing
The Portage
The Expedition
The Drag
The School House
The Ride
Order Of The Volumes.
Marco Paul,
I.--In New York.
II.--On the Erie Canal.
III.--In Maine.
IV.--In Vermont.
V.--In Boston.
VI.--At the Springfield Armory.
Principal Persons
MR. BARON, a merchant of New York.
MARCO, his son, a boy about twelve years old.
JOHN FORESTER, Marco's cousin, about nineteen years old.
Marco is traveling and studying under Forester's care.
Marco Paul in Vermont.
Chapter I.
Journeying.
When Mr. Baron, Marco's father, put Marco under his cousin Forester's
care, it was his intention that he should spend a considerable part
of his time in traveling, and in out-of-door exercises, such as might
tend to re-establish his health and strengthen his constitution.
He did not, however, intend to have him give up the study of books
altogether. Accordingly, at one time, for nearly three months, Marco
remained at Forester's home, among the Green Mountains of Vermont,
where he studied several hours every day.
It was in the early part of the autumn, that he and Forester went to
Vermont. They traveled in the stage-coach. Vermont lies upon one side
of the Connecticut river, and New Hampshire upon the other side. The
Green Mountains extend up and down, through the middle of Vermont,
from north to south, and beyond these mountains, on the western side
of the state, is lake Champlain, which extends from north to south
also, and forms the western boundary. Thus, the Green Mountains divide
the state into two great portions, one descending to the eastward,
toward Connecticut river, and the other to the westward, toward lake
Champlain. There are, therefore, two great ways of access to Vermont
from the states south of it; one up the Connecticut river on the
eastern side, and the other along the shores of lake George and lake
Champlain on the western side. There are roads across the Green
Mountains also, leading from the eastern portion of the state to the
western. All this can be seen by looking upon any map of Vermont.
Marco and Forester went up by the Connecticut river. The road lay
along upon the bank of the river, and the scenery was very pleasant.
They traveled in the stage-coach; for there were very few railroads in
those days.
The country was cultivated and fertile, and the prospect from the
windows of the coach was very fine. Sometimes wide meadows and
intervales extended along the river,--and at other places, high hills,
covered with trees, advanced close to the stream. They could see, too,
the farms, and villages, and green hills, across the river, on the New
Hampshire side.
On the second day of their journey, they turned off from the river by
a road which led into the interior of the country; for the village
where Forester's father resided was back among the mountains. They had
new companions in the coach too, on this second day, as well as a new
route; for the company which had been in the coach the day before were
to separate in the morning, to go off in different directions. Several
stage-coaches drove up to the door of the tavern in the morning, just
after breakfast, with the names of the places where they were going
to, upon their sides. One was marked, "Haverhill and Lancaster;"
another, "Middlebury;" and a third, "Concord and Boston;" and there
was one odd-looking vehicle, a sort of carryall, open in front, and
drawn by two horses, which had no name upon it, and so Marco could not
tell where it was going. As these several coaches and carriages drove
up to the door, the hostlers and drivers put on the baggage and bound
it down with great straps, and then handed in the passengers;--and
thus the coaches, one after another, drove away. The whole movement
formed a very busy scene, and Marco, standing upon the piazza in front
of the tavern, enjoyed it very much.
There was a very large elm-tree before the door, with steps to climb
up, and seats among the branches. Marco went up there and sat some
time, looking down upon the coaches as they wheeled round the tree, in
coming up to the door. Then he went down to the piazza again.
[Illustration: THE GREAT ELM]
There was a neatly-dressed young woman, with a little flower-pot in
her hand, standing near him, waiting for her turn. There was a small
orange-tree in her flower-pot. It was about six inches high. The sight
of this orange-tree interested Marco very much, for it reminded him
of home. He had often seen orange-trees growing in the parlors and
green-houses in New York.
"What a pretty little orange-tree!" said Marco. "Where did you get
it?"
"How did you know it was an orange-tree?" said the girl.
"O, I know an orange-tree well enough," replied Marco. "I have seen
them many a time."
"Where?" asked, the girl.
"In New York," said Marco. "Did your orange-tree come from New York?"
"No," said the girl. "I planted an orange-seed, and it grew from
that. I've got a lemon-tree, too," she added, "but it is a great deal
larger. The lemon-tree grows faster than the orange. My lemon-tree is
so large that I couldn't bring it home very well, so I left it in the
mill."
"In the mill?" said Marco. "Are you a miller?"
The girl laughed. She was a very good-humored girl, and did not appear
to be displeased, though it certainly was not quite proper for Marco
to speak in that manner to a stranger. She did not, however, reply to
his question, but said, after a pause,
"Do you know where the Montpelier stage is?"
The proper English meaning of the word _stage_ is a _portion of
the road_, traveled between one resting-place and another. But in
the United States it is used to mean the carriage,--being a sort of
contraction for _stage-coach_.
"No," said Marco, "_we_ are going in that stage."
"I wish it would come along," said the girl, "for I'm tired of
watching my trunk."
"Where is your trunk?" said Marco.
So the girl pointed out her trunk. It was upon the platform of the
piazza, near those belonging to Forester and Marco. The girl showed
Marco her name, which was Mary Williams, written on a card upon the
end of it.
"I'll watch your trunk," said Marco, "and you can go in and sit down
until the stage comes."
Mary thanked him and went in. She was not, however, quite sure that
her baggage was safe, intrusted thus to the charge of a strange boy,
and so she took a seat near the window, where she could keep an eye
upon it. There was a blue chest near these trunks, which looked like a
sailor's chest, and Marco, being tired of standing, sat down upon this
chest. He had, however, scarcely taken his seat, when he saw a coach
with four horses, coming round a corner. It was driven by a small boy
not larger than Marco. It wheeled up toward the door, and came to a
stand. Some men then put on the sailor's chest and the trunks. Mary
Williams came out and got into the coach. She sat on the back seat.
Forester and Marco got in, and took their places on the middle seat. A
young man, dressed like a sailor, took the front seat, at one corner
of the coach. These were all the passengers that were to get in here.
When every thing was ready, they drove away.
The stage stopped, however, in a few minutes at the door of a handsome
house in the town, and took a gentleman and lady in. These new
passengers took places on the back seat, with Mary Williams.
This company rode in perfect silence for some time. Forester took
out a book and began to read. The gentleman on the back seat went to
sleep. Mary Williams and Marco looked out at the windows, watching the
changing scenery. The sailor rode in silence; moving his lips now and
then, as if he were talking to himself, but taking no notice of any
of the company. The coach stopped at the villages which they
passed through, to exchange the mail, and sometimes to take in new
passengers. In the course of these changes Marco got his place shifted
to the forward seat by the side of the sailor, and he gradually got
into conversation with him. Marco introduced the conversation, by
asking the sailor if he knew how far it was to Montpelier.
"No," said the sailor, "I don't keep any reckoning, but I wish we were
there."
"Why?" asked Marco.
"O, I expect the old cart will capsize somewhere among these
mountains, and break our necks for us."
Marco had observed, all the morning, that when the coach canted to
one side or the other, on account of the unevenness of the road, the
sailor always started and looked anxious, as if afraid it was going to
be upset. He wondered that a man who had been apparently accustomed
to the terrible dangers of the seas, should be alarmed at the gentle
oscillations of a stage-coach.
"Are you afraid that we shall upset?" asked Marco.
"Yes," said the sailor, "over some of these precipices and mountains;
and then there'll be an end of us."
The sailor said this in an easy and careless manner, as if, after all,
he was not much concerned about the danger. Still, Marco was surprised
that he should fear it at all. He was not aware how much the fears
which people feel, are occasioned by the mere novelty of the danger
which they incur. A stage-driver, who is calm and composed on his box,
in a dark night, and upon dangerous roads, will be alarmed by the
careening of a ship under a gentle breeze at sea,--while the sailor
who laughs at a gale of wind on the ocean, is afraid to ride in a
carriage on land.
"An't you a sailor?" asked Marco.
"Yes," replied his companion.
"I shouldn't think that a man that had been used to the sea, would be
afraid of upsetting in a coach."
"I'm not a _man_" said the sailor.
"What are you?" said Marco.
"I'm a boy. I'm only nineteen years old; though I'm going to be rated
seaman next voyage."
"Have you just got back from a voyage?" asked Marco.
"Yes," said the sailor. "I've been round the Horn in a whaler, from
old Nantuck. And now I'm going home to see my mother."
"How long since you've seen her?" asked Marco.
"O, it's four years since I ran away."
Here the sailor began to speak in rather a lower tone than he had done
before, so that Marco only could hear. This was not difficult, as the
other passengers were at this time engaged in conversation.
"I ran away," continued the sailor, "and went to sea about four years
ago."
"What made you run away?" asked Marco.
"O, I didn't want to stay at home and be abused. My father used to
abuse me; but my mother took my part, and now I want to go and see
her."
"And to see your father too," said Marco.
"No," said the sailor. "I don't care for him. I hope he's gone off
somewhere. But I want to see my mother. I have got a shawl for her in
my chest."
Marco was shocked to hear a young man speak in such a manner of his
father. Still there was something in the frankness and openness of the
sailor's manner, which pleased him very much. He liked to hear his odd
and sailor-like language too, and he accordingly entered into a
long conversation with him. The sailor gave him an account of his
adventures on the voyage; how he was drawn off from the ship one day,
several miles, by a whale which they had harpooned;--how they caught
a shark, and hauled him in on deck by means of a pulley at the end of
the yard-arm;--and how, on the voyage home, the ship was driven before
an awful gale of wind for five days, under bare poles, with terrific
seas roaring after them all the way. These descriptions took a strong
hold of Marco's imagination. His eye brightened up, and he became
restless on his seat, and thought that he would give the world for a
chance to stand up in the bow of a boat, and put a harpoon into the
neck of a whale.
In the mean time, the day wore away, and the road led into a more and
more mountainous country. The hills were longer and steeper, and the
tracts of forest more frequent and solitary. The number of passengers
increased too, until the coach was pretty heavily loaded; and
sometimes all but the female passengers would get out and walk up the
hills. On these occasions Forester and Marco would generally walk
together, talking about the incidents of their journey, or the
occupations and amusements which they expected to engage in when they
arrived at Forester's home. About the middle of the afternoon the
coach stopped at the foot of a long winding ascent, steep and stony,
and several of the passengers got out. Forester, however, remained
in, as he was tired of walking, and so Marco and the sailor walked
together. The sailor, finding how much Marco was interested in his
stories, liked his company, and at length he asked Marco where he was
going. Marco told him.
"Ah, if you were only going on a voyage with me," said the sailor,
"that would make a man of you. I wouldn't go and be shut up with that
old prig, poring over books forever."
Marco was displeased to hear the sailor call his cousin an old
prig, and he felt some compunctions of conscience about forming and
continuing an intimacy with such a person. Still he was so much
interested in hearing him talk, that he continued to walk with him up
the hill. Finally, the sailor fairly proposed to him to run away and
go to sea with him.
"O no," said Marco, "I wouldn't do such a thing for the world.
Besides," said he, "they would be after us, and carry me back."
"No," said the sailor; "we would cut across the country, traveling in
the night and laying to by day, till we got to another stage route,
and then make a straight wake, till we got to New Bedford, and there
we could get a good voyage. Come," said he, "let's go to-night. I'll
turn right about. I don't care a great deal about seeing my mother."
Though Marco was a very bold and adventurous sort of a boy, still he
was not quite prepared for such a proposal as this. In the course of
the conversation the sailor used improper and violent language too,
which Marco did not like to hear; and, in fact, Marco began to be a
little afraid of his new acquaintance. He determined, as soon as he
got back to the coach to keep near Forester all the time, so as not to
be left alone again with the sailor. He tried to hasten on, so as to
overtake the coach, but the sailor told him not to walk so fast; and,
being unwilling to offend him, he was obliged to go slowly, and keep
with him; and thus protracted the conversation.
[Illustration: THE HILL.]
About half-way up the hill there was a small tavern, and the sailor
wanted Marco to go in with him and get a drink. Marco thought that he
meant a drink of water, but it was really a drink of spirits which
was intended. Marco, however, refused to go, saying that he was not
thirsty; and so they went on up the hill. At the top of the hill, the
stage-coach stopped for the pedestrians to come up. There was also
another passenger there to get in,--a woman, who came out from a
farm-house near by. The driver asked the sailor if he was not willing
to ride outside, in order to make room for the new passenger. But he
would not. He was afraid. He said he would not ride five miles outside
for a month's wages. Marco laughed at the sailor's fears, and he
immediately asked Forester to let _him_ ride outside. Forester
hesitated, but on looking up, and seeing that there was a secure seat,
with a good place to hold on, he consented. So Marco clambered up
and took his seat with the driver, while the other passengers
re-established themselves in the stage.