From the bloody field of Ticonderoga Abercrombie retreated, as is well
known, after having in vain attempted to take the inner abattis
without cannon, and sacrificed the lives of many hundred gallant men
to his own want of self-reliance. I need dwell no more upon the
painful subject, but it was a sad day for the whole army, a sad day
for the whole province, and a sadder day still for one small domestic
circle, when the bodies of the gallant Lord H---- and his beautiful
promised bride were brought to rest for a night at the house of Mr.
Prevost before they were moved down to Albany. A body of the young
nobleman's own regiment carried the coffins by turns; another party
followed with arms reversed; but between the biers and the escort
walked four men, with hearts as sad as any upon earth. It may seem
strange, but none of the four shed a tear. The tall Indian warrior,
though he grieved as much as if he had lost a child, had no tears for
any earthly sorrow. The fountain in the heart of Mr. Prevost had been
dried up by the fiery intensity of his grief. Walter had wept long and
secretly, and the pride of manhood would not let him stain his cheeks
in the presence of soldiers. Woodchuck's eyes were dry, too, for
during six long months he had disciplined his heart to look upon the
things of the earth so lightly, that although he grieved for Edith's
fate, it was with the sort of sorrow he might have felt to see a
beautiful flower trampled down by a rough foot: and there was bright
hope, too, mingled with the shadow of his woe, for he said to himself
frequently: "They have but parted for to-day to meet in a happier
place to-morrow."
As the procession approached the house the servants came forth to meet
it, with a young and beautiful girl at their head, clad in the Indian
garb. She bore two little wreaths in her hand, one woven of bright
spring flowers, the other of dark evergreens; and when the soldiers
halted for a moment with their burden, she laid the flowers upon the
coffin of Edith, the evergreen upon the soldier's bier. Then turning,
with the tears dropping from her eyes, but with no clamorous grief,
she walked before them back into the house.
Some four years after, a less painful scene might be beheld at the
house of Mr. Prevost. He himself sat in a great chair under the
veranda, with his hair become as white as snow, and his head a good
deal bowed. Seated on the ground near him was a tall Indian chief,
very little changed in appearance, grave, calm, and still as ever. On
the step of the veranda sat two young people, a tall, handsome,
powerful man, of about one and twenty, and a beautiful girl, whose
brown cheek betrayed some mixture of the Indian blood. On the green
grass before them, with a black nurse sitting by, was as lovely a
child of about two years of age as ever the sun shone upon. They had
gathered a number of beautiful flowers, and she was sporting with them
with the grace and with the happiness that only children can display
or know. The eyes of all were fixed upon her, and they called her
Edith.
There was one wanting to that party out of those who had assembled at
the door four years before. Woodchuck was no longer there. He had gone
where he longed to be. When he felt sickness coming upon him, some two
years after the death of Lord H----, he had left the house of Mr.
Prevost, which he had lately made his home, and gone, as he said, to
wander in the mountains. There he became worse. An Indian runner came
down to tell his friends that he was dying; and when Mr. Prevost went
up to see him, he found him in a Seneca lodge, with but a few hours of
life before him.
Woodchuck was very glad to see the friendly face near him, and as his
visitor bent over him, he said: "I am very much obliged to you for
coming, Prevost, for I want to ask you one thing, and that is, to have
me buried in the churchyard at Albany, just beside your dear girl. I
know it's all nonsense, and that the flesh sees corruption; but still
I've a fancy that I shall rest quieter there than anywhere else. If
ever there was an angel she was one, and I think her dust must
sanctify the ground."
It was his only request, and it was not forgotten.
FOOTNOTES.
[Footnote 1: This English officer, whom the author, through the story,
thinly disguises under the title "Lord H----," will be readily
recognized by the reader as that Lord Howe who met his death at
Ticonderoga.]
[Footnote 2: This very curious fact is avouched upon authority beyond
question. The order was called that of the Honontkoh, and was
generally regarded with great doubt and suspicion by the Iroquois.]
[Footnote 3: All the principal incidents in the above remarkable scene
were related to me by Judge Spencer as having occurred within his own
personal knowledge.]
[Footnote 4: I am told that the Fort referred to did not receive the
name of Crown Point till after its capture by the English; but I find
it so called by contemporary English writers.]
THE END