Ho! Princes of Jacob! the strength and the stay
Of the daughters of Zion;--now up, and away;
Lo, the hunters have struck her, and bleeding alone
Like a pard in the desert she maketh her moan:
Up with war-horse and banner, with spear and with sword,
On the spoiler go down in the might of the Lord!
Lunt.
The succeeding fortnight, or three weeks, brought no material changes,
beyond those connected with the progress of the season. Vegetation was
out in its richest luxuriance, the rows of corn and potatoes, freshly
hoed, were ornamenting the flats, the wheat and other grains were
throwing up their heads, and the meadows were beginning to exchange
their flowers for the seed. As for the forest, it had now veiled its
mysteries beneath broad curtains of a green so bright and lively, that
one can only meet it, beneath a generous sun, tempered by genial rains,
and a mountain air. The chain-bearers, and other companions of Beekman,
quitted the valley the day after the wedding, leaving no one of their
party behind but its principal.
The absence of the major was not noted by Joel and his set, in the
excitement of receiving so many guests, and in the movement of the
wedding. But, as soon as the fact was ascertained, the overseer and
miller made the pretence of a 'slack-time' in their work, and obtained
permission to go to the Mohawk, on private concerns of their own. Such
journeys were sufficiently common to obviate suspicion; and, the leave
had, the two conspirators started off, in company, the morning of the
second day, or forty-eight hours after the major and Nick had
disappeared. As the latter was known to have come in by the Fort
Stanwix route, it was naturally enough supposed that he had returned by
the same; and Joel determined to head him on the Mohawk, at some point
near Schenectady, where he might make a merit of his own patriotism, by
betraying the son of his master. The reader is not to suppose Joel
intended to do all this openly; so far from it, his plan was to keep
himself in the back-ground, while he attracted attention to the
supposed toryism of the captain, and illustrated his own attachment to
the colonies.
It is scarcely necessary to say that this plan failed, in consequence
of the new path taken by Nick. At the very moment when Joel and the
miller were lounging about a Dutch inn, some fifteen or twenty miles
above Schenectady, in waiting for the travellers to descend the valley
of the Mohawk, Robert Willoughby and his guide were actually crossing
the Hudson, in momentary security at least. After remaining at his post
until satisfied his intended prey had escaped him, Joel, with his
friend, returned to the settlement. Still, the opportunity had been
improved, to make himself better acquainted with the real state of the
country; to open communications with certain patriots of a moral
calibre about equal to his own, but of greater influence; to throw out
divers injurious hints, and secret insinuations concerning the captain;
and to speculate on the propriety of leaving so important a person to
work his will, at a time so critical. But the pear was not yet ripe,
and all that could now be done was to clear the way a little for
something important in future.
In the meantime, Evert Beekman having secured his gentle and true-
hearted wife, began, though with a heavy heart, to bethink him of his
great political duties. It was well understood that he was to have a
regiment of the new levies, and Beulah had schooled her affectionate
heart to a degree that permitted her to part with him, in such a cause,
with seeming resignation. It was, sooth to say, a curious spectacle, to
see how these two sisters bent all their thoughts and wishes, in
matters of a public nature, to favour the engrossing sentiments of
their sex and natures; Maud being strongly disposed to sustain the
royal cause, and the bride to support that in which her husband had
enlisted, heart and hand.
As for captain Willoughby, he said little on the subject of politics;
but the marriage of Beulah had a powerful influence in confirming his
mind in the direction it had taken after the memorable argument with
the chaplain. Colonel Beekman was a man of strong good sense, though
without the least brilliancy; and his arguments were all so clear and
practical, as to carry with them far more weight than was usual in the
violent partisan discussions of the period. Beulah fancied him a Solon
in sagacity, and a Bacon in wisdom. Her father, without proceeding
quite as far as this, was well pleased with his cool discriminating
judgment, and much disposed to defer to his opinions. The chaplain was
left out of the discussions as incorrigible.
The middle of June was passed, at the time colonel Beekman began to
think of tearing himself from his wife, in order to return into the
active scenes of preparation he had quitted, to make this visit. As
usual, the family frequented the lawn, at the close of the day, the
circumstance of most of the windows of the Hut looking on the court,
rendering this resort to the open air more agreeable than might
otherwise have been the case. Evert was undecided whether to go the
following morning, or to remain a day longer, when the lawn was thus
occupied, on the evening of the 25th of the month, Mrs. Willoughby
making the tea, as usual, her daughters sitting near her, sewing, and
the gentlemen at hand, discussing the virtues of different sorts of
seed-corn.
"There is a stranger!" suddenly exclaimed the chaplain, looking towards
the rocks near the mill, the point at which all arrivals in the valley
were first seen from the Hut. "He comes, too, like a man in haste,
whatever may be his errand."
"God be praised," returned the captain rising; "it is Nick, on his
usual trot, and this is about the time he should be back, the bearer of
good news. A week earlier might have augured better; but this will do.
The fellow moves over the ground as if he really had something to
communicate!"
Mrs. Willoughby and her daughters suspended their avocations, and the
gentlemen stood, in silent expectation, watching the long, loping
strides of the Tuscarora, as he came rapidly across the plain. In a few
minutes the Indian came upon the lawn, perfectly in wind, moving with
deliberation and gravity, as he drew nearer to the party. Captain
Willoughby, knowing his man, waited quite another minute, after the
red-man was leaning against an apple-tree, before he questioned him.
"Welcome back, Nick," he then said. "Where did you leave my son?"
"He tell dere," answered the Indian, presenting a note, which the
captain read.
"This is all right, Nick; and it shows you have been a true man. Your
wages shall be paid to-night. But, this letter has been written on the
eastern bank of the Hudson, and is quite three weeks old--why have we
not seen you, sooner?"
"Can't see, when he don't come."
"That is plain enough; but why have you not come back sooner? That is
my question."
"Want to look at country--went to shore of Great Salt Lake."
"Oh!--Curiosity, then, has been at the bottom of your absence?"
"Nick warrior--no squaw--got no cur'osity."
"No, no--I beg your pardon, Nick; I did not mean to accuse you of so
womanish a feeling. Far from it; I know you are a man. Tell us,
however, how far, and whither you went?"
"Bos'on," answered Nick, sententiously.
"Boston! That has been a journey, indeed. Surely my son did not allow
you to travel in his company through Massachusetts?"
"Nick go alone. Two path; one for major; one for Tuscarora. Nick got
dere first."
"That I can believe, if you were in earnest. Were you not questioned by
the way?"
"Yes. Tell 'em I'm Stockbridge--pale-face know no better. T'ink he fox;
more like wood-chuck."
"Thank you, Nick, for the compliment. Had my son reached Boston before
you came away?"
"Here he be"--answered the Indian, producing another missive, from the
folds of his calico shirt.
The captain received the note which he read with extreme gravity, and
some surprise.
"This is in Bob's handwriting," he said, "and is dated 'Boston, June
18th, 1775;' but it is without signature, and is not only Bob, but Bob
Short."
"Read, dear Willoughby," exclaimed the anxious mother. "News from
_him_, concerns us all."
"News, Wilhelmina!--They may call this news in Boston, but one is very
little the better for it at the Hutted Knoll. However, such as it is,
there is no reason for keeping it a secret, while there is _one_
reason, at least, why it should be known. This is all. 'My dearest
sir--Thank God I am unharmed; but we have had much to make us reflect;
you know what duty requires--my best and endless love to my mother, and
Beulah--and dear, laughing, capricious, _pretty_ Maud. Nick was
present, and can tell you all. I do not think he will extenuate, or
aught set down in malice."' And this without direction, or signature;
with nothing, in fact, but place and date. What say _you_ to all
this, Nick?"
"He very good--major dere; he know. Nick dere--hot time--a t'ousand
scalp--coat red as blood."
"There has been another battle!" exclaimed the captain; "that is too
plain to admit of dispute. Speak out at once, Nick--which gained the
day; the British or the Americans?"
"Hard to tell--one fight, t'other fight. Red-coat take de ground;
Yankee kill. If Yankee could take scalp of all he kill, he whip. But,
poor warriors at takin' scalp. No know how."
"Upon my word, Woods, there does seem to be something in all this! It
can hardly be possible that the Americans would dare to attack Boston,
defended as it is, by a strong army of British regulars."
"That would they not," cried the chaplain, with emphasis. "This has
been only another skirmish."
"What you call skirmge?" asked Nick, pointedly. "It skirmge to take
t'ousand scalp, ha?"
"Tell us what _has_ happened, Tuscarora?" said the captain,
motioning his friend to be silent.
"Soon tell--soon done. Yankee on hill; reg'lar in canoe. Hundred,
t'ousand, fifty canoe--full of red-coat. Great chief, dere!--ten--six--
two--all go togeder. Come ashore--parade, pale-face manner--march--
booh--booh--dem cannon; pop, pop--dem gun. Wah! how he run!"
"Run!--who ran, Nick?--Though I suppose it must have been the poor
Americans, of course."
"Red-coat run," answered the Indian, quietly.
This reply produced a general sensation, even the ladies starting, and
gazing at each other.
"Red-coat run"--repeated the captain, slowly. "Go on with your history,
Nick--where was this battle fought?"
"T'other Bos'on--over river--go in canoe to fight, like Injin from
Canada."
"That must have been in Charlestown, Woods--you may remember Boston is
on one peninsula, and Charlestown on another. Still, I do not recollect
that the Americans were in the latter, Beekman--you told me nothing of
that?"
"They were not so near the royal forces, certainly, when I left Albany,
sir," returned the colonel. "A few direct questions to the Indian,
however, would bring out the whole truth."
"We must proceed more methodically. How many Yankees were in this
fight, Nick?--Calculate as we used to, in the French war."
"Reach from here to mill--t'ree, two deep, cap'in. All farmer; no
sodger. Carry gun, but no carry baggonet; no carry knapsack. No wear
red-coat. _Look_ like town-meetin'; _fight_ like devils."
"A line as long as from this to the mill, three deep, would contain
about two thousand men, Beekman. Is that what you wish to say, Nick?"
"That about him--pretty near--just so."
"Well, then, there were about two thousand Yankees on this hill--how
many king's troops crossed in the canoes, to go against them?"
"Two time--one time, so many; t'other time, half so many. Nick close
by; count _him_."
"That would make three thousand in all! By George, this does look like
work. Did they all go together, Nick?"
"No; one time go first; fight, run away. Den two time go, fight good
deal--run away, too. Den try harder--set fire to wigwam--go up hill;
Yankee run away."
"This is plain enough, and quite graphical. Wigwam on fire? Charlestown
is not burnt, Nick?"
"Dat he--Look like old Council Fire, gone out. Big canoe fire--booh--
booh--Nick nebber see such war before--wah! Dead man plenty as leaves
on tree; blood run like creek!"
"Were you in this battle, Nick? How came you to learn so much about
it?"
"Don't want to be in it--better out--no scalp taken. Red-man not'in' to
do, dere. How know about him?--_See_ him--dat all. Got eye; why no
see him, behind stone wall. Good see, behind stone wall."
"Were you across the water yourself, or did you remain in Boston, and
see from a distance?"
"Across in canoe--tell red-coat, general send letter by Nick--major
say, he _my_ friend--let Nick go."
"My son was in this bloody battle, then!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "He
writes, Hugh, that he is safe?"
"He does, dearest Wilhelmina; and Bob knows us too well, to attempt
deception, in such a matter."
"Did you see the major in the field, Nick--after you crossed the water,
I mean?"
"See him, all. Six--two--seven t'ousand. Close by; why not see major
stand up like pine--no dodge he head, _dere_. Kill all round him--
no hurt _him_! Fool to stay dere--tell him so; but he no come
away. Save he scalp, too."
"And how many slain do you suppose there might have been left on the
ground--or, did you riot remain to see?"
"Did see--stay to get gun--knapsack--oder good t'ing--plenty about;
pick him up, fast as want him." Here Nick coolly opened a small bundle,
and exhibited an epaulette, several rings, a watch, five or six pairs
of silver buckles, and divers other articles of plunder, of which he
had managed to strip the dead. "All good t'ing--plenty as stone--have
him widout askin'."
"So I see, Master Nick--and is this the plunder of Englishmen, or of
Americans?"
"Red-coat nearest--got most t'ing, too. Go farder, fare worse; as pale-
face say."
"Quite satisfactory. Were there more red-coats left on the ground, or
more Americans?"
"Red-coat so," said Nick, holding up _four_ fingers--Yankee, so;
"holding up _one_. Take big grave to hold red-coat. Small grave
won't hold Yankee. Hear what he count; most red-coat. More than
t'ousand warrior! British groan, like squaw dat lose her hunter."
Such was Saucy Nick's description of the celebrated, and, in some
particulars, unrivalled combat of Bunker Hill, of which he had actually
been an eye-witness, on the ground, though using the precaution to keep
his body well covered. He did not think it necessary to state the fact
that he had given the _coup-de-grace_, himself, to the owner of
the epaulette, nor did he deem it essential to furnish all the
particulars of his mode of obtaining so many buckles. In other
respects, his account was fair enough, "nothing extenuating, or setting
down aught in malice." The auditors had listened with intense feeling;
and Maud, when the allusion was made to Robert Willoughby, buried her
pallid face in her hands, and wept. As for Beulah, time and again, she
glanced anxiously at her husband, and bethought her of the danger to
which he might so soon be exposed.
The receipt of this important intelligence confirmed Beekman in the
intention to depart. The very next morning he tore himself away from
Beulah, and proceeded to Albany. The appointment of Washington, and a
long list of other officers, soon succeeded, including his own as a
colonel; and the war may be said to have commenced systematically. Its
distant din occasionally reached the Hutted Knoll; but the summer
passed away, bringing with it no event to affect the tranquillity of
that settlement. Even Joel's schemes were thwarted for a time, and he
was fain to continue to wear the mask, and to gather that harvest for
another, which he had hoped to reap for his own benefit.
Beulah had all a young wife's fears for her husband; but, as month
succeeded month, and one affair followed another, without bringing him
harm, she began to submit to the anxieties inseparable from her
situation, with less of self-torment, and more of reason. Her mother
and Maud were invaluable friends to her, in this novel and trying
situation, though each had her own engrossing cares on account of
Robert Willoughby. As no other great battle, however, occurred in the
course of the year '75, Beekman remained in safety with the troops that
invested Boston, and the major with the army within it. Neither was
much exposed, and glad enough were these gentle affectionate hearts,
when they learned that the sea separated the combatants.
This did not occur, however, until another winter was passed. In
November, the family left the Hut, as had been its practice of late
years, and went out into the more inhabited districts to pass the
winter. This time it came only to Albany, where colonel Beekman joined
it, passing a few happy weeks with his well-beloved Beulah. The ancient
town mentioned was not gay at a moment like that; but it had many young
officers in it, on the American side of the question, who were willing
enough to make themselves acceptable to Maud. The captain was not sorry
to see several of these youths manifesting assiduity about her he had
so long been accustomed to consider as his youngest daughter; for, by
this time, his opinions had taken so strong a bias in favour of the
rights of the colonies, that Beekman himself scarce rejoiced more
whenever he heard of any little success alighting on the American arms.
"It will all come right in the end," the worthy captain used to assure
his friend the chaplain. "They will open their eyes at home, ere long,
and the injustice of taxing the colonies will be admitted. Then all
will come round again; the king will be as much beloved as ever, and
England and America will be all the better friends for having a mutual
respect. I know my countrymen well; they mean right, and will do right,
as soon as their stomachs are a little lowered, and they come to look
at the truth, coolly. I'll answer for it, the Battle of Bunker's Hill
made _us_"--the captain had spoken in this way, now, for some
months--"made _us_ a thousand advocates, where we had one before.
This is the nature of John Bull; give him reason to respect you, and he
will soon do you justice; but give him reason to feel otherwise, and he
becomes a careless, if not a hard master."
Such were the opinions captain Willoughby entertained of his native
land; a land he had not seen in thirty years, and one in which he had
so recently inherited unexpected honours, without awakening a desire to
return and enjoy them. His opinions were right in part, certainly; for
they depended on a law of nature, while it is not improbable they were
wrong in all that was connected with the notions of any peculiarly
manly quality, in any particular part of christendom. No maxim is truer
than that which teaches us "like causes produce like effects;" and as
human beings are governed by very similar laws all over the face of
this round world of ours, nothing is more certain than the similarity
of their propensities.
Maud had no smiles, beyond those extracted by her naturally sweet
disposition, and a very prevalent desire to oblige, for any of the
young soldiers, or young civilians, who crowded about her chair, during
the Albany winter mentioned. Two or three of colonel Beekman's military
friends, in particular, would very gladly have become connected with an
officer so much respected, through means so exceedingly agreeable; but
no encouragement emboldened either to go beyond the attention and
assiduities of a marked politeness.
"I know not how it is," observed Mrs. Willoughby, one day, in a
_tête-à-tête_ with her husband; "Maud seems to take less pleasure
than is usual with girls of her years, in the attentions of your sex.
That her heart is affectionate--warm--even tender, I am very certain;
and yet no sign of preference, partiality, or weakness, in favour of
any of these fine young men, of whom we see so many, can I discover in
the child. They all seem alike to her!"
"Her time will come, as it happened to her mother before her," answered
the captain. "Whooping-cough and measles are not more certain to befall
children, than love to befall a young woman. You were all made for it,
my dear Willy, and no fear but the girl will catch the disease, one of
these days; and that, too, without any inoculation."
"I am sure, I have no wish to separate from my child"--so Mrs.
Willoughby always spoke of, and so she always felt towards Maud--"I am
sure, I have no wish to separate from my child; but as we cannot always
remain, it is perhaps better this one should marry, like the other.
There is young Verplanck much devoted to her; he is everyway a suitable
match; and then he is in Evert's own regiment."
"Ay, he would do; though to my fancy Luke Herring is the far better
match."
"That is because he is richer and more powerful, Hugh--you men cannot
think of a daughter's establishment, without immediately dragging in
houses and lands, as part of the ceremony."
"By George, wife of mine, houses and lands in moderation, are very good
sweeteners of matrimony!"
"And yet, Hugh, I have been very happy as a wife, nor have you been
very miserable as a husband, without any excess of riches to sweeten
the state!" answered Mrs. Willoughby, reproachfully. "Had you been a
full general, I could not have loved you more than I have done as a
mere captain."
"All very true, Wilhelmina, dearest," returned the husband, kissing the
faithful partner of his bosom with strong affection--"very true, my
dear girl; for girl you are and ever will be in my eyes; but _you_
are one in a million, and I humbly trust there are not ten hundred and
one, in every thousand, just like myself. For my part, I wish dear,
saucy, capricious little Maud, no worse luck in a husband, than Luke
Herring."
"She will never be _his_ wife; I know her, and my own sex, too
well to think it. You are wrong, however, Willoughby, in applying such
terms to the child. Maud is not in the least capricious, especially in
her affections. See with what truth and faithfulness of sisterly
attachment she clings to Bob. I do declare I am often ashamed to feel
that even his own mother has less solicitude about him than this dear
girl."
"Pooh, Willy; don't be afflicted with the idea that you don't make
yourself sufficiently miserable about the boy. Bob will do well enough,
and will very likely come out of this affair a lieutenant-colonel. I
may live yet to see him a general officer; certainly, if I live to be
as old as my grandfather, Sir Thomas. As for Maud, she finds Beulah
uneasy about Beekman; and having no husband herself, or any over that
she cares a straw about, why she just falls upon Bob as a _pis
aller_. I'll warrant you she cares no more for him than any of the
rest of us--than myself, for instance; though as an old soldier, I
don't scream every time I fancy a gun fired over yonder at Boston."
"I wish it were well over. It is _so_ unnatural for Evert and
Robert to be on opposite sides."
"Yes, it is out of the common way, I admit; and yet 'twill all come
round, in the long run. This Mr. Washington is a clever fellow, and
seems to play his cards with spirit and judgment. He was with us, in
that awkward affair of Braddock's; and between you and me, Wilhelmina,
he covered the regulars, or we should all have laid our bones on that
accursed field. I wrote you at the time, what I thought of him, and now
you see it is all coming to pass."
It was one of the captain's foibles to believe himself a political
prophet; and, as he had really both written and spoken highly of
Washington, at the time mentioned, it had no small influence on his
opinions to find himself acting on the same side with this admired
favourite. Prophecies often produce their own fulfilment, in cases of
much greater gravity than this; and it is not surprising that our
captain found himself strengthened in his notions by the circumstance.
The winter passed away without any of Maud's suitors making a visible
impression on her heart. In March, the English evacuated Boston, Robert
Willoughby sailing with his regiment for Halifax, and thence with the
expedition against Charleston, under Sir Henry Clinton. The next month,
the family returned to the Knoll, where it was thought wiser, and even
safer to be, at a moment so critical, than even in a more frequented
place. The war proceeded, and, to the captain's great regret, without
any very visible approaches towards the reconciliation he had so
confidently anticipated. This rather checked his warmth in favour of
the colonial cause; for, an Englishman by birth, he was much opposed at
bottom to anything like a dissolution of the tie that connected America
with the mother country; a political event that now began seriously to
be talked of among the initiated.
Desirous of thinking as little as possible of disagreeable things, the
worthy owner of the valley busied himself with his crops, his mills,
and his improvements. He had intended to commence leasing his wild
lands about this time, and to begin a more extended settlement, with an
eye to futurity; but the state of the country forbade the execution of
the project, and he was fain to limit his efforts by their former
boundaries. The geographical position of the valley put it beyond any
of the ordinary exactions of military service; and, as there was a
little doubt thrown around its owner's opinions, partly in consequence
of his son's present and his own previous connection with the royal
army, and partly on account of Joel's secret machinations, the
authorities were well content to let the settlement alone, provided it
would take care of itself. Notwithstanding the prominent patriotism of
Joel Strides and the miller, they were well satisfied, themselves, with
this state of things; preferring peace and quietness to the more
stirring scenes of war. Their schemes, moreover, had met with somewhat
of a check, in the feeling of the population of the valley, which, on
an occasion calculated to put their attachment to its owner to the
proof, had rather shown that they remembered his justice, liberality,
and upright conduct, more than exactly comported with their longings.
This manifestation of respect was shown at an election for a
representative in a local convention, in which every individual at the
Hutted Knoll, who had a voice at all, the two conspirators excepted,
had given it in favour of the captain. So decided was this expression
of feeling, indeed, that it compelled Joel and the miller to chime in
with the cry of the hour, and to vote contrary to their own wishes.
One, dwelling at the Hutted Knoll, in the summer of 1776, could never
have imagined that he was a resident of a country convulsed by a
revolution, and disfigured by war. There, everything seemed peaceful
and calm, the woods sighing with the airs of their sublime solitude,
the genial sun shedding its heats on a grateful and generous soil,
vegetation ripening and yielding with all the abundance of a bountiful
nature, as in the more tranquil days of peace and hope.
"There is something frightful in the calm of this valley, Beulah!"
exclaimed Maud one Sunday, as she and her sister looked out of the
library window amid the breathing stillness of the forest, listening to
the melancholy sound of the bell that summoned them to prayers. "There
is a frightful calm over this place, at an hour when we know that
strife and bloodshed are so active in the country. Oh! that the hateful
congress had never thought of making this war!"
"Evert writes me all is well, Maud; that the times will lead to good;
the people are right; and America will now be a nation--in time, he
thinks, a great, and a very great nation."
"Ah! It is this ambition of greatness that hurries them all on! Why can
they not be satisfied with being respectable subjects of so great a
country as England, that they must destroy each other for this phantom
of liberty? Will it make them wiser, or happier, or better than they
are?"
Thus reasoned Maud, under the influence of one engrossing sentiment. As
our tale proceeds, we shall have occasion to show, perhaps, how far was
that submission to events which she inculcated, from the impulses of
her true character. Beulah answered mildly, but it was more as a young
American wife:
"I know Evert thinks it all right, Maud; and you will own he is neither
fiery nor impetuous. If _his_ cool judgment approve of what has
been done, we may well suppose that it has not been done in too much
haste, or needlessly."
"Think, Beulah," rejoined Maud, with an ashen cheek, and in trembling
tones, "that Evert and Robert may, at this very moment, be engaged in
strife against each other. The last messenger who came in, brought us
the miserable tidings that Sir William Howe was landing a large army
near New York, and that the Americans were preparing to meet it. We are
certain that Bob is with his regiment; and his regiment we know is in
the army. How can we think of this liberty, at a moment so critical?"
Beulah did not reply; for in spite of her quiet nature, and implicit
confidence in her husband, she could not escape a woman's solicitude.
The colonel had promised to write at every good occasion, and that
which he promised was usually performed. She thought, and thought
rightly, that a very few days would bring them intelligence of
importance; though it came in a shape she had little anticipated, and
by a messenger she had then no desire to see.
In the meantime, the season and its labours advanced. August was over,
and September with its fruits had succeeded, promising to bring the
year round without any new or extraordinary incidents to change the
fortunes of the inmates of the Hutted Knoll. Beulah had now been
married more than a twelvemonth, and was already a mother; and of
course all that time had elapsed since the son quitted his father's
house. Nick, too, had disappeared shortly after his return from Boston;
and throughout this eventful summer, his dark, red countenance had not
been seen in the valley.