he went on, "was a girl's voice after I had been four years in the
army, and, by Jove! if I didn't experience something of the same
pleasure in hearing this young girl speak after a week in the woods.
She had evidently been out in the world and was home on a visit. It
was a different look she gave me from that of the natives. This is
better than fishing for trout," said he. "You drop in at the next
house."
But the next house looked too unpromising.
"There is no milk there," said I, "unless they keep a goat."
"But could we not," said my facetious companion, "go it on that?"
A couple of miles beyond I stopped at a house that enjoyed the
distinction of being clapboarded, and had the good fortune to find
both the milk and the young lady. A mother and her daughter were
again the only occupants save a babe in the cradle, which the young
woman quickly took occasion to disclaim.
"It has not opened its dear eyes before since its mother left. Come
to aunty," and she put out her hands.
The daughter filled my pail and the mother replenished our stock of
bread. They asked me to sit and cool myself, and seemed glad of a
stranger to talk with. They had come from an adjoining county five
years before, and had carved their little clearing out of the solid
woods.
"The men folks," the mother said, "came on ahead and built the house
right among the big trees," pointing to the stumps near the door.
One no sooner sets out with his pack upon his back to tramp through
the land than all objects and persons by the way have a new and
curious interest to him. The tone of his entire being is not a
little elevated, and all his perceptions and susceptibilities
quickened. I feel that some such statement is necessary to justify
the interest that I felt in this backwoods maiden. A slightly pale
face it was, strong and well arched, with a tender, wistful
expression not easy to forget.
I had surely seen that face many times before in towns and cities,
and in other lands, but I hardly expected to meet it here amid the
stumps. What were the agencies that had given it its fine lines and
its gracious intelligence amid these simple, primitive scenes? What
did my heroine read, or think? or what were her unfulfilled
destinies? She wore a sprig of prince's pine in her hair, which gave
a touch peculiarly welcome.
"Pretty lonely," she said, in answer to my inquiry; "only an
occasional fisherman in summer, and in winter--nobody at all."
And the little new schoolhouse in the woods farther on, with its
half-dozen scholars and the girlish face of the teacher seen through
the open door,--nothing less than the exhilaration of a journey on
foot could have made it seem the interesting object it was. Two of
the little girls had been to the spring after a pail of water, and
came struggling out of the woods into the road with it as we passed.
They set down their pail and regarded us with a half-curious,
half-alarmed look.
"What is your teacher's name?" asked one of us.
"Miss Lucinde Josephine--" began the red-haired one, then hesitated,
bewildered, when the bright, dark-eyed one cut her short with "Miss
Simms," and taking hold of the pail said, "Come on."
"Are there any scholars from above here?" I inquired.
"Yes, Bobbie and Matie," and they hastened toward the door.
We once more stopped under a bridge for refreshments, and took our
time, knowing the train would not go on without us. By four o'clock
we were across the mountain, having passed from the water-shed of
the Delaware into that of the Hudson. The next eight miles we had a
down grade but a rough road, and during the last half of it we had
blisters on the bottoms of our feet. It is one of the rewards of the
pedestrian that, however tired he may be, he is always more or less
refreshed by his journey. His physical tenement has taken an airing.
His respiration has been deepened, his circulation quickened. A good
draught has carried off the fumes and the vapors. One's quality is
intensified; the color strikes in. At noon that day I was much
fatigued; at night I was leg-weary and footsore, but a fresh, hardy
feeling had taken possession of me that lasted for weeks.