University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.
MARGARET PASSES A NIGHT AT THE STILL, AND SOLOMON
SMITH MAKES HER USEFUL.

It will be remembered that Hash, the brother of Margaret,
at the Spring training, was punished not only by
imprisonment, but also with an inconsiderable fine, for
disorderly behavior on that occasion. Not being himself
possessed of the money, he had recourse to the Smiths at
No. 4, to whom he pledged his oxen for the necessary sum.
To acquit himself in that quarter, he engaged his services
as night-warden at the Still. In addition—for this seemed
to be a point especially insisted upon—he promised that
Margaret should accompany him in that duty.

The “Still,” or Distillery, was a smutty, clouted, suspicious
looking building, down in a hollow by Mill Brook.
It rose a single story on one side and two on the other, into
the former of which the barrels of cider were rolled, and
emptied into the cauldron below. The latter was the chief
scene of operation; here were the furnace; the boiler with
its cap for collecting the vapor and conveying it into the
worm-pipe or condenser; the refrigerator, an immense cask,
holding the worm, and supplied with fresh water by long
wooden troughs from the Brook above; and the receiver, a
barrel, into which the condensed vapor of the cider, now
having assumed the form called spirits, issuing from the
worm, fell drop by drop.

Here at nightfall were wont to assemble the people of
the neighborhood, including even some young females.

Hither came Margaret with Hash and Bull. A pine
torch blazed from the bunghole of a barrel. Boys were
crouched on the earth playing mumble-the-peg. Old
Isaac Tapley, with both hands in his waistband, leaned
on the boiler critically quaffing jets of steam that a lucky
leak afforded. Little Isaiah Hatch would desperately steal
on his finger's end a drop that fell from the worm. The
neighbors were kind, and seemed to vie with one another
who should be most useful, helping Solomon roll up the
barrels, tier on tier, bring in fuel, and keep the fire in good
countenance.

Damaris Smith politely offered to instruct Margaret in
the game of Fox and Geese, which they played sitting on
a bench with little hollows and lines branded in it.

At length the nine o'clock bell was heard from the village,
a tone mellowed by the distance and the woods; and
which breaking in upon many a scene of idleness, dissipation,
domestic quiet, or friendly visit, admonished the gay
of vanity, the devout of prayer, and all of bedtime. The
neighbors left, and presently the head of the establishment
retired also, leaving Margaret and Hash to their night's
work, that of tending the fire. It was not long before
Hash, whom Solomon had been treating with singular generosity,
exhibited signs of intoxication, and in a few
minutes fell senseless to the ground. Then was Margaret
left alone with a dead-drunk brother, a roaring furnace, a
hot and hissing cauldron, barrels of detestable drink, grotesque
and frightful shadows leaping on the beams; while
through holes in the floor above, from the dark and lonely
upper room, the reflected light seemed to grin at her like a
demon of Despair. When the fire burnt low, she replenished
it with dry hemlock, which snapped like the report
of subterranean musketry; while the sparks pouring out like

hail and falling on her brother's face, she was obliged to
shield it with boards. The gurgling of the water, as it
flowed in and out from the vat, would have been music to
her ears, if she were free to enjoy it; but it was her own
sweet Pond contributing to the wicked business of rummaking;—and
so too was she. Would she finish her work,
and flow away as uncontaminated?

Her father had never troubled her with ghost-stories,
and she was not inclined to yield to unreal alarms. The
night was dark and chilly. She could see nothing out
doors but great tremulous masses—masses of shadow, and
hear nothing save the Brook, which sounded as if it ran
somewhere very deep under ground. Yet it was quite refreshing
to turn from the hot furnance and fetid atmosphere
of the place to the cool and pure door-way, even if it was
dark all round and she seemed to be at the bottom of an infinite
loneliness. Her good angel, the dog, followed her steps
wherever she went; and once he looked so in her face, as
if there was a tear of sympathy in his eye: what, indeed,
she had done before in her life,—she put her arms about his
neck, and wept. She did not complain, or fear, or feel any
wrong or loss, but she wept irresistibly because her dog
loved her; and then she continued to weep as it were mechanically
because there was nothing to occupy her deep
sensitive faculties, and her tears alone remained to flow out;
and so too she fell to laughing, and laughed almost wildly
and incoherently; then chills crept over her, partly from
the increasing and overpowering coldness of the air, and
partly from an irrepressible nature which must always feel
cold if it be not deeply and warmly loved.

She then went and sat on the bench before the fire, and
Bull crouched right in front of her and seemed to be keeping
watch over her countenance; and she fell to gazing into his

eyes; and as she looked the eyes appeared to swell till
they became big as saucers, and the circle spread more and
more till it was like a great sheet of water. She saw in
the water, purple waves, like sunset, and moonlight doings
in the shape of golden fish, fiery lizards, and little young
lightnings at play, such as she had often seen in the Pond.
She seemed to herself to be going into the water, and down
and down she went till she came to a hollow place at the
bottom, where she stood as it were on a plain.

Here she saw a large silver cauldron over a fire,—something
like the arrangement her brothers adopted for boiling
maple sap,—and her first impulse was to go to the fire and
dry her clothes. Refore she could reach it, there passed
her three blooming and fairy-like girls, the like of whom
she had never seen. One of them ran and cast on the fire
an armful of rosebushes, bright autumnal leaves, aromatic
dead ferns, and white cotton grass, which made quite a
blaze. Another one collected wild flowers that were seen
growing every where, and threw into the cauldron eye-brights,
azaleas, rhodoras, and many more. The third girl
stood by the vessel and stirred it with a long silver ladle.

These persons did not speak to Margaret, nor she to
them. Events passed quietly, though every thing was full
of interest. The girls kept at work; they caught the
wriggling moonbeams and threw them into the pot; they
skimmed off the purple twilight to add to the ingredients;
turning a faucet at the end of a silver pipe connecting with
the blue sky, they set that running in; one had a mortar
in which she pounded sweet-scented herbs, as chamomile
and marjoram, for seasoning; two or three rainbows were
picked up and thrown in.

After it was sufficiently boiled, they began to dip out
this singular compound and pour it on the ground. The

liquor congealed as it fell, and the mass increased in an
opal-like human form. As they continued to discharge the
contents of the vessel, feet were formed, and legs, breast,
arms, and the shape of a head. One poured on another
ladle full, and beautiful eyes appeared; a second ladle produced
a delicate lovely color in the face; another covered
the head and neck with long, dark, curling hair. When
the Form, which was that of a woman, was complete, they
wove with their fingers out of the light a sort of drapery,
which they threw over it. Then one began to sing, and
another to play on a harp; while the third led down from
the skies the brilliant Planet Venus, by a bridle of blue
taste tied to one of its rays, and fastened it to a spear of
grass to keep it from running off. While the two first
were singing and playing, the Spirit of Life came into the
Form, filling it with soul, and it stood before them a perfect
human being. The three girls seemed greatly delighted
with the beautiful lady they had created, and were even
transported to such a degree as if they would worship her.
The Beauty, for such the new-formed woman might worthily
be called, did not however long consent to receive
the adulation of the others, but took pains to demonstrate
her equality with them in sundry pleasing ways, and the
four disported together on the green grass; then they all
went to bathe in a stream of clear water that opened near
by. After this the Beauty was seated on the brilliant
Planet Venus, which was unhitched, and seemed very eager
to be off.

Now Margaret had not been able to communicate with
what was going on; but wishing to do something, and
thinking she ought first to dry her clothes before appearing
before such nice people, she went to the fire, when lo!
her dress was not wet, for it instantly took fire, and blazed

right up, and spread a bright iridine-like illumination all
about her. Then such joy as these wonderful creatures
showed when they saw the little Margaret all a-fire was
never seen; and so beautifully flaming! and they all
seemed to be in flame-land and in flame-feeling. The steed,
if such it might be called, the evening star, could stand it
no longer, it leaped away with its fair rider, and these
lovely creations of a dream vanished into the most beautiful
light that ever was.

The growling of the dog waked Margaret, and she found
she had been dreaming; and that with her head pillowed
on the neck of her dumb protector.

The cur had no bad motive in disturbing the fancies of
his little mistress;—like a wise mentor, he wished to call
her attention to impending realities. Somebody was
about the Still. Somebody's footsteps could be heard in
the thick midnight without, and somebody's head was presently
seen looking in at the door. If it had been one of
the beautiful girl's of the dream, we guess Bull would not
have growled as he did, for he was a very partial and discriminating
dog, and always liked every one that Margaret
liked; therefore she was a little frightened when he growled
so strong, and one might almost say she snuggled down in
the dog's lap, so closely did she cling to him.

But this strange Somebody at the door spoke, and then
Margaret knew who it was—that it was Solomon Smith—
and he spoke very kindly. Crossing the threshold, he
looked as if he was more afraid of being hurt, than of
hurting. He seated himself rather timidly on an end of
the bench, and edged towards her. One might see that
this fellow was very much pleased to find Hash so sound
asleep, and that he had no intention of waking him. He
spoke under his breath, and commended the child for

minding the fire so well, and asked her if she wouldn't have
some toddy, which she refused.

“You are a curis creeter,” he continued, “and an't no
moon-calf nuther. You know at the trainin', guess as how
I found you out in the rain, and took you into the Tavern,
and you might have staid there all night for all any body
else lookin' arter you. Now you won't begrutch me a
favor will you, Peggy? Can you tell what makes the
likker come out of that are pipe?”

“I can't,” she replied. “I wish it didn't.”

“What makes dogs howl when you die?”

“I don't know. I think Bull would, if I should die.”

“Didn't you know you could catch a thief by putting a
rooster under a kittle? It'll crow as soon as the rascal
touches it, guess as how.”

“I didn't know that.”

“You found the water up to Mr. Palmer's, didn't you,
Peggy?” he inquired in an increasingly low and earnest
manner.

“The boys found it.”

“You carried the stick, and Nimrod said you found it,
and so did Rhody and the Widder.”

“Did they say so?”

“Now I want you should tell me if you ever found a
four-leaf clover? Speak low; walls have ears.”

“Yes,” she answered, “twenty in the Mowing.”

“Did you ever kill a cricket?”

“They sing so pretty, I couldn't kill one.”

“That's you. I wouldn't kill one. It's dum bad. Do
you put a Bible under your pillow when you go to bed?”

“What, such as Miss Amy told me about? She says
the Bible makes people all wicked; and Pa's Bible makes
us wicked too. I don't like Bibles.”

“Little coot! Don't you know the Bible is the best
book in the world. I always sleep with one, guess as
how. Let me see your finger nails. Is there any black
spots on them?”

“When they are dirty, and I dig roots for Obed.”

“Now keep shy, Peggy, I want to tell you something.
I have had a dream.”

“Do you dream too?”

“I have had a dream three nights a runnin'. I can't tell
you all about it now. But look here, Peg, Hash owes us,
and he'll have to lose his oxen if the money is'nt paid dum
soon. He drinks more than his work comes to, but if you
are willing to do what I want you to, I'll let him off.”

“What shall I do?” asked Margaret, with a slight twinge
of uncertainty and distress.

“I want you to go up with me to-night, to the Fortune-teller's,
Joyce Dooly's.”

To this proposal, the young man, after considerable coaxing
and threatening, succeeded in gaining Margaret's consent;
promising that he would release Hash altogether
from his obligations, if she would do as he wished.

In a few minutes a horse was at the door, and taking
Margaret behind, with the dog of course as sort of king's
guard, Solomon rode off, plunging as it were into bottomless
night and interminable woods. Up the Brandon road
half a mile or so, they dismounted and struck into a thicket.
Margaret had to hold by the skirt of Solomon's coat, while
he felt his way before. They espied at length a light, and
entered a door. In a small, low, ragged room, in what sort
of a house or place it was impossible for Margaret to tell,
she saw an old woman with a dish of coals and two tallow
candles burning before her on a table, both of which she
seemed to be intently watching. She was evidently prepared

for the visit, and showed by her manner that she had
been waiting their arrival. Joyce Dooly, the Fortune-teller,
was of course old, with a peaked and shrivelled face,
and black and sharp eye.—Why should not a fortune-teller
be young and pretty?—Her dress withal was fantastic
as her art. She muttered and peeped, as the Bible says,
like a wizard.

Five cats darted from chairs and the chimney side, when
the dog entered, hissing and spitting, and all raised their
backs together in one corner of the room. This movement
seemed to disturb the magician for a moment, but observing
it more attentively she became quiet, as if all was right.

Her immediate business was with Margaret, whom, after
settling certain preliminaries with the coals of fire, the
candle wicks, the cats, some cards and astrological tracts
that lay on the table, but which we need not describe, she
proceeded to examine.

“In what month were you born?” asked the Fortune-teller.

“I don't know,” replied Margaret.

“What, how!” exclaimed the old woman, in a tone of
surprise and rebuke. “Why have you brought the little
one here? Nativity is the most important. In what
house, Aquarius, Cancer, or Mercury,—we know nothing
about it. Was Jupiter in the ascendant? The Moon in
aspect to what? How can we tell?”

“I don't care for your riggledorums,” retorted Solomon,
with suppressed impatience. “Will she answer my purpose?
You have got your money to find out that, and that
is all I want to know.”

“Hold, Solomon!” she said with an overawing sternness.
“The cats are against you. Keep still. Here, child, let
me look at you. Curled hair,” so she went on. “denoteth

heat and drought; brown, fairness, justice, freedom and
liberality. Your signs are contradictory, child. Venus
must have been in square signs, when you were born. Do
you never have any trouble?”

“Sometimes,” she replied, “when Deacon Penrose and
Mr. Smith sell rum to Pa and Hash.”

“Take note, Solomon,” so the woman admonished the
fellow, “she refers her troubles to you. She prognosticates
disaster, sorrow and death. You had better let her alone.”

Solomon became inwardly greatly excited, but he strove
to control himself, and whispered something in the ears of
the woman, who turned again to the child.

“Lips,” she continued, “fairly set and well colored argue
fidelity, and a person given to all virtue; brow high and
smooth, signifieth a sincere friend and liberal benefactress;
small ears, a good understanding; neck comely and smooth,
a good genius; brown eyes, clear and shining, ingenuity,
nobility and probity. Let me see you laugh. Teeth white
and even, argue sweetness and reverence; dimples, persuasion
and command; hand, soft and clear, hath discretion,
service, delight in learning, peace-loving; palm D in mount
of the Moon,—ha! ha! do you want to know, child! many
and dutiful and fair children,—would you like to have
children?”

“Yes, Ma'am,” replied Margaret.

The old lady seemed to be wandering, and becoming
quite absorbed in the characteristics and tokens of the child,
she gave renewed uneasiness to Solomon, who expressed
his feelings in a loud and somewhat menacing tone.

“Rest thee, young man!” she replied, “thy fortune is
wrapt in that of the child. The hour cometh. Your significator
must apply to a sextile of Mercury and Venus.
I see a coffin in the wick of this candle. Scare the cats,

let me see them jump once more. Now is your moment,
depart.”

Whatever might be the meaning of this visit and this
singular mummery to Margaret, Solomon, it appeared,
had accomplished his object, and was ready to leave. Retracing
their steps through the darkness and wood, they
came back to the Still. Margaret would have gone in to
her brother, but Solomon declared he had something more
for her to do, and insisted that she should go a little farther
with him. They went up the road leading to the Pond,
and arriving at a growth of trees known as the Pines,
Solomon hitched his horse, and led Margaret once more
into the depths of the forest. Reaching a spot which he
seemed previously to have in his mind, he put a hazel-twig
into the child's hand, and bade her go about among the
trees in the same manner as she did at Mr. Palmer's at the
Ledge. She was not long in announcing the movement of
the stick, and the young man identified the magic spot as
well as he could in the darkness, by piling a heap of stones
over it. She asked him what it was for, but he declined
telling; and what he would not do, we must, since in the
sequel the whole affair came out.

This young Smith had a dream, three nights successively,
of gold hid in the Pines. He could not ascertain the precise
locality, and sundry private canvassings of the earth
with a spade had hitherto been fruitless. Hence his anxiety
to secure the services of Margaret, whose success on
a former occasion with the divining rod he had been apprized
of; hence also his visit to Joyce Dooly, the Fortune-teller,
for the purpose of fortifying himself more completely in
his undertaking.

Once more in this night of wanderings and mystery was
Margaret conducted to the Still. Nor did morning dawn

until Solomon had time to dispose of his horse in the stable,
and himself in bed, before any of his family were stirring.
Margaret found Hash yet in his sleep, the fire decayed,
and the Still dark, cold, and dismal as the morning after a
debauch. She rekindled the fire, sufficiently at least for
her own comfort, and lying down before it, sheltering herself
in what never failed either in kindness or support, the
arms of her dog, fell fast asleep.