Mode of conveying timber in rafts down the river.
I BROUGHT out some volumes of Shakspeare with me, and remembering the
prohibition of reading plays promulgated the former winter, was much at
a loss how to proceed. I thought rightly that it was owing to a
temporary fit of spleen. But then I knew my father was, like all
military men, tenacious of his authority, and would possibly continue it
merely because he had once said so. I recollected that he said he would
have no plays brought to the house; and that I read them unchecked at
madame’s, who was my model in all things. It so happened that the river
had been higher than usual that spring, and in consequence, exhibited a
succession of very amusing scenes. The settlers, whose increase above
towards Stillwater, had been, for three years past, incredibly great,
set up saw-mills on every stream, for the purpose of turning to account
the fine timber which they cleared in great quantities off the new
lands. The planks they drew in sledges to the side of the great river;
and when the season arrived that swelled the stream to its greatest
height, a whole neighbourhood assembled, and made their joint stock into
a large raft, which was floated down the river with a man or two on it,
who with long poles were always ready to steer it clear of those islands
or shallows which might impede its course. There is something serenely
majestic in the easy progress of those large bodies on the full stream
of this copious river. Sometimes one sees a whole family transported on
this simple conveyance; the mother calmly spinning, the children
sporting about her, and the father fishing on one end, and watching its
safety at the same time. These rafts were taken down to Albany and put
on board vessels there for conveyance to New-York; sometimes, however,
it happened that, as they proceeded very slowly, dry weather came on by
the time they reached the Flats, and it became impossible to carry them
further; in that case they were deposited in great triangular piles
opposite our door. One of these, which was larger than ordinary, I
selected for a reading closet. There I safely lodged my Shakspeare; and
there in my play hours I went to read it undisturbed, with the advantage
of fresh air, a cool shade, and a full view of the road on one side, and
a beautiful river on the other. While I enjoyed undisturbed privacy, I
had the prohibition full in my mind, but thought I should keep to the
spirit of it by only reading the historical plays, comforting myself
that they were true. These I read over and over with pleasure ever new;
it was quite in my way, for I was familiarly acquainted with the English
history; now, indeed, I began to relish Shakspeare, and to be astonished
at my former blindness to his beauties. The contention of the rival
roses occupied all my thoughts, and broke my rest. “Wind-changing
Warwick” did not change oftener than I; but at length my compassion for
holy Henry, and hatred to Richard, fixed me a Lancastrian. I began to
wonder how any body could exist without reading Shakspeare, and at
length resolved, at all risks, to make my father a sharer in my
new-found felicity. Of the nature of taste I had not the least idea; so
far otherwise, that I was continually revolving benevolent plans to
distribute some of the poetry I most delighted in among the Bezaleels
and Habakkuks of the twenty mile line. I thought this would make them
happy as myself; and that when they once felt the charm of “musical
delight,” the harsh language of contention would cease, and legal
quibbling give way before the spirit of harmony. How often did I repeat
Thomson’s description of the golden age, concluding,
“For music held the whole in perfect peace.”
At home, however, I was in some degree successful. My father did begin
to take some interest in the roses, and I was happy, yet kept both my
secret and my closet, and made more and more advances in the study of
these “wood notes wild.” As you like it, and the Midsummer Night’s Dream
enchanted me; and I thought the comfort of my closet so great, that I
dreaded nothing so much as a flood, that should occasion its being once
more set in motion. I was one day deeply engaged in compassionating
Othello, sitting on a plank, added on the outside of the pile, for
strengthening it, when happening to lift my eyes, I saw a long serpent
on the same board, at my elbow, in a threatening attitude, with its head
lifted up. Othello and I ran off together with all imaginable speed; and
as that particular kind of snake seldom approaches any person, unless
the abode of its young is invaded, I began to fear I had been studying
Shakspeare in a nest of serpents. Our faithful servant examined the
place at my request. Under the very board on which I sat, when terrified
by this unwished associate, was found a nest with seven eggs. After
being most thankful for my escape, the next thing was to admire the
patience and good humour of the mother of this family, who permitted
such a being as myself so long to share her haunt with impunity. Indeed,
the rural pleasures of this country were always liable to those
drawbacks; and this place was peculiarly infested with the familiar
garter-snake, because the ruins of the burnt house afforded shelter and
safety to these reptiles.
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