University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.

Wilder and rougher grew our winding way
after we lost sight of the fawns, and I began to
think Constantinople must be farther off than we
had supposed, when our wheel plumped suddenly
into a great dry hole so deep that it brought our
steeds to a stand still. They, like ourselves, had
been unprepared for any thing of the sort, for the
track had been as smooth, if not as level, as a bowling-green.
It was green too, for it had not been
enough travelled to destroy the original sward.
What could be the meaning of this pitfall?

It was vain to question the trees or the chip-monks,
and our own wits offered no satisfactory
solution; so we drove on. A few yards more, and
we came to a similar trap, and from this time onward
they became more and more frequent. They
were the oddest thing that could be, in this out of
the way place, seeming freshly dug and without
conceivable aim or purpose. We discussed the

point without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion,
till we became sensible of a new wonder—a
distant sound of “Yo heave!” recurring at regular
intervals, and transporting one's mind at once to
the borders of the well-beloved sea, whose various
music was far more familiar to our youthful ears
than the murmur of the forest.

“Yo heave! Yo heave!” the mingled sound of
many voices, became more and more distinctly
audible as we ascended a high bank broken every
where by the holes I have mentioned. When we
reached its summit, from which the road descended
suddenly into a deep, woody dell, a scene of strange
beauty met our eyes, and explained all. Over a
small stream in the bottom of the dell—a mere
brooklet as it seemed from that distance—some
eighty or perhaps a hundred men were erecting
the frame-work of a large mill—an object which
seemed almost as much out of place in this primal
solitude as would the apparition of a three-decker
upon the stocks, which indeed it much resembled.
Nothing could be more striking than the contrast
between this intricate specimen of human skill, and
the majestic simplicity of nature around it. The
trees which had been felled to make room for it,
lay in their yet unfaded green on every side, and
so scanty allowance had been made for the gigantic
intruder, that the still living forest hung over its
symmetrical spars. An immense beat was about
to be raised, (borrowed learning this,) and as many

men as could find hands-breadths on its edge were
applying their united energies to the task, bringing
to mind inevitably the sleeping Gulliver under the
efforts of his Lilliputians. As the huge mass left
the ground, poles and handspikes assisted its ascent,
and the “Yo heave!” was repeated as a signal
for every fresh effort, as on shipboard. When
it had reached its place high in air, it made one's
heart stand still to see men perched upon it, and
leaning over to drive its corners home with heavy
mallets; those below tossing up the requisite pins,
which were caught with unerring precision.

When we could withdraw our attention from
this part of the scene, we found much to attract it
below. The spectacle of a “raising,” though so commonplace
an affair elsewhere, is something worth
seeing in the woods; and accordingly there were
almost as many boys and idlers as efficient hands
present on this occasion. These were making the
most of their time in various games of skill or
strength—wrestling, running, leaping;—and shouts
of merry laughter mingled with the cheering song
of the workmen. Not a few lounged around the
door of a temporary building or “shanty,” as we
say—erected for the refreshment of the guests;
for be it known that on these occasions neighbors
one and all leave their own business, if possible,
and lend their aid for love, and not for money—
expecting only some good cheer, and in case of
need a reciprocation of the kindness.

Where the country is settled but little, the assembling
of so many able-bodied men is no small
undertaking. I have no doubt the company before
us cost several days' hard riding. And there were
probably many there who would not have been
hired to quit their own affairs to work for any
body. It is considered very churlish to refuse in
such cases, and nothing would make a man more
unpopular than the habit of excusing himself from
raisings. Indeed few are disposed to offend in this
way, for these are considered in the light of friendly
visits, and constitute almost the sole attempt at
merry-making in which the men of the country
take part.

The work went on rapidly and well. Every
thing fitted, and the complicated structure grew as
if by magic aid. When one only thinks of such
undertakings, it seems wonderful that terrible accidents
do not often occur—but when we see the
operation, it is more natural to ask how it is that
they ever occur, so great is the amount of skill,
care and accuracy employed. The master mind,
clear-headed and keen-eyed, stands by, calmly
directing the minutest movement; and so complete
is the confidence reposed in him that his commands
are implicitly obeyed where the least mistake
might cost many lives. This person took upon
himself very properly the right of repressing, with
some sternness, the jokes and laughter of the
younger portion of his assistants; who, preferring

of course the highest and most perilous parts of
the work, yielded to the excitement of the moment,
greatly increasing their own risk as well as that
of all concerned.

“'Ta'n't play-spell, boys!” said the “boss.”

“Law! I tho't 'twas! I seen the master out o'
doors,” replied one of the pickles.

“Well, now you know it a'n't, you'd better keep
your teeth warm,” shouted the master in return;
“put your tongue in your elbow, and then may-be
you'll work!”

And under such auspices it was not long before
the last rafter found its appropriate place, and nothing
was lacking, from the huge foundation stones
which had left such yawning cavities in the wood,
through which we approached the scene, to the
apex of the airy pile, which showed its outline
with beautiful distinctness on the heavy foliage
around it. This was the moment of triumph.
The men, who had been scattered in every direction
throughout the frame, giving it the appearance of
an enormous bird-cage, or rather aviary, now ranged
themselves along the beams, and gave three thrilling
cheers, presenting the most perfect image of the
beautiful manœuvre of “manning the yards” on
board a vessel of war, that can possibly be conceived.
With me the illusion was complete for the moment,
and I found my eyes filled with tears—the tears
of ancient and well-preserved memories,—in spite
of the great old trees and the deep lonely dell.

Nothing now remained but to name the structure
according to the formula invariably used on such
occasions, let the terms suit as they may.

To which a voice from a distant corner responded,
This again reminded me of the ceremony of naming
at a launch, but if there were libations on this
occasion they were not poured upon the ground.

The whole company now adjourned to the shanty,
where abundant refreshments were provided. We
were very politely invited to partake, but the day
was waning, and the scene had already beguiled us
of so much time, that we declined any thing beyond
a glass of excellent spruce beer,—a luxury which
we of the woods know how to appreciate.

Sir Walter Scott observes that he always found
“something fearful, or at least melancholy, about
a mill.” He had never seen one “raised,” I am
sure. Perhaps he had owned one when wheat,
having stood at twelve shillings, fell to six—
and after some fluctuation settled at four. This
would account for his impression.