Benefit of select Reading—Hunting Excursion.
UNSPEAKABLE benefit and improvement was derived from the course of
reading I have described, which, in the absence of other subjects,
furnished daily topics of discussion, thus impressing it more forcibly
on the mind.
The advantages of this course of social study, directed by a mentor so
respected, were such, that I have often heard it asserted that these
unformed youths derived more solid improvement from it than from all
their former education. Reading is one thing; but they learned to think
and to converse. The result of these acquirements served to impress on
my mind what I formerly observed with regard to madame, that a
promiscuous multitude of books always within reach retards the
acquisition of useful knowledge. It is like having a great number of
acquaintances and few friends; one of the consequences of the latter is
to know much of exterior appearances, of modes and manners, but little
of nature and genuine character. By running over numbers of books
without selection, in a desultory manner, people, in the same way, get a
general superficial idea of the varieties and nature of different
styles, but do not comprehend or retain the matter with the same
accuracy as those who have read a few books, by the best authors, over
and over with diligent attention. I speak now of those one usually meets
with; not of those commanding minds, whose intuitive research seizes on
every thing worth retaining, and rejects the rest as naturally as one
throws away the rind when possessed of the kernel.
Our young students got through the winter pretty well; and it is
particularly to be observed that there was no such thing as a quarrel
heard of among them. Their time was spent in a regular succession of
useful pursuits, which prevented them from risking the dangers that
often occur in such places; for in general, idleness and confinement to
the same circle of society, produce such a fermentation in the mind, and
such neglect of ceremonial observances, which are the barriers of
civility, that quarrels and duels more readily occur in such situations
than in any other. But when spring drew near, this paternal commander
found it extremely difficult to rein in the impatience of the youths to
plunge into the woods to hunt. There were such risks to encounter, of
unknown morasses, wolves, and hostile Indians, that it was dangerous to
indulge them. At last, when the days began to lengthen, in the end of
February, a chosen party, on whose hardihood and endurance the major
could depend, were permitted to go on a regular hunting excursion in the
Indian fashion. This was become desirable on different accounts, the
garrison having been, for some time before, entirely subsisting on salt
provision. Sheep and cows were out of the question, there not being one
of either within forty miles. A captain Hamilton, who was a practised
wood ranger, commanded this party, who were clad almost like Indians,
and armed in the same manner. They were accompanied by a detachment of
ten men; some of whom, having been prisoners with the Indians, were more
particularly qualified to engage in this adventure. They were allowed
four or five days to stay, and provided with a competent supply of
bear-skins, blankets, &c. to make their projected wigwams comfortable.
The allotted time expired, and we all began to quarrel with our salt
provisions, and to long for the promised venison. Another, and yet
another day passed, when our longing was entirely absorbed in the
apprehensions we began to entertain. Volunteers now presented themselves
to go in search of the lost hunters; but those offers were, for good
reasons, rejected; and every countenance began to lengthen with fears we
were unwilling to express to each other. The major, conjecturing the
hunters might have been bewildered in those endless woods, ordered the
cannon to be fired at noon, and again at midnight, for their direction.
On the eighth day, when suspense was wound up to the highest pitch, the
party were seen approaching—and they entered in triumph, loaded with
sylvan spoils, among which were many strange birds and beasts. I
recollect, as the chief objects of my admiration, a prodigious swan, a
wild turkey, and a young porcupine. Venison abounded, and the supply was
both plentiful and seasonable.
“Spring returned with its showers,” and converted our Siberia, frozen
and forlorn, and shut out from human intercourse, into an uncultured
Eden, rich in all the majestic charms of sublime scenery, and primeval
beauty and fertility. It is in her central retreat, amidst the mighty
waters of the west, that nature seems in solitary grandeur, to have
chosen her most favoured habitation, remote from the ocean, whose waves
bear the restless sons of Europe on their voyages of discovery,
invasion, and intrusion. The coasts of America are, indeed,
comparatively poor, except merely on the banks of great rivers, though
the universal veil of evergreens conceals much sterility from strangers.
But it is in the depth of those forests, and around those sea-like
lakes, that nature has been profusely kind, and discovers more charms
the more her shady veil is withdrawn from her noble features. If ever
the fond illusions of poets and philosophers—that Atalantis, that new
Arcadia, that safe and serene Utopia, where ideal quiet and happiness
have so often charmed in theory; if ever this dream of social bliss, in
some new planted region, is to be realized, this unrivalled scene of
grandeur and fertility bids fairest to be the place of its abode. Here
the climate is serene and equal; the rigorous winters that brace the
frame, and call forth the powers of mind and body to prepare for its
approach, are succeeded by a spring so rapid, the exuberance of vernal
bloom bursts forth so suddenly after the disappearance of those deep
snows which cherish and fructify the earth, that the change seems like a
magical delusion.
The major saw every one enraptured, like people suddenly let out of
prison; and the whole garrison seemed ripe for running wild through the
woods, in pursuit of innumerable birds of passage, which had come on the
wings of the genial south to resume their wonted abodes by the great
lakes, where they hatch among swamps and islands without number.
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