University of Virginia Library

19. CHAPTER XIX.

The close of Christmas day, A. D. 1793, was
tempestuous, but comparatively warm. When
darkness had again hid the objects in the village
from the gaze of Elizabeth, she turned from the
window, where she had remained while the least
vestige of light lingered over the tops of the dark
pines, with a curiosity that was rather excited
than appeased by the passing glimpses of woodland
scenery that she had caught during the day.

With her arm locked in that of Miss Grant, the
young mistress of the mansion walked slowly up
and down the hall, musing on scenes that were
rapidly recurring to her memory, and possibly
dwelling, at times, in the sanctuary of her
thoughts, on the strange occurrences that had led
to the introduction to her father's family, of one,
whose manners so singularly contradicted the inferences
to be drawn from his situation. The
expiring heat of the apartment, for its great size
required a day to reduce its temperature, had
given to her cheeks a richness of bloom that exceeded

their natural colour, while the mild and
melancholy features of Louisa were brightened
with a faint tinge, that, like the hectic glow of
disease, gave a painful interest to her beauty.

The eyes of the gentlemen, who were yet seated
around the rich wines of Judge Temple, frequently
wandered from the table, that was placed
at one end of the hall, to the lovely forms that
were silently moving over its length. Much
mirth, and that, at times, of a boisterous kind,
proceeded from the mouth of Richard; but Major
Hartmann was not yet excited to his pitch of
merriment, and Marmaduke respected the presence
of his clerical guest too much, to indulge in
even the innocent humour that formed no small
ingredient in his character.

Such were, and such continued to be, the pursuits
of the party, for half an hour after the shutters
were closed, and candles were placed in various
parts of the hall, as substitutes for the departing
daylight. The appearance of Benjamin staggering
under the burthen of an armful of wood,
was the first interruption to the scene.

“How now, Master Pump!” roared the newly
appointed Sheriff; “is there not warmth enough
in 'duke's best Madeira, to keep up the animal
heat through this thaw? Remember, old boy,
that the Judge is particular with his beech and
maple, beginning to dread, already, a scarcity of
the precious articles. Ha! ha! ha! 'duke, you
are a good, warm-hearted relation, I will own, as
in duty bound, but you have some queer notions
about you, after all. `Come let us be jolly, and
cast away folly!' ”—

The notes gradually sunk into a hum, while
the Major-domo threw down his load, and turning
to his interrogator with an air of great earnestness,
he replied—

“Why, look you, Squire Dickens, mayhap
there's a warm latitude round about the table
there, thof it's not the stuff to raise the heat in
my body, neither; the raal Jamaiky being the
only thing to do that, beside good wood, or some
such matter as Newcastle coal. But if I know
any thing of weather, d'ye see, it's time to be getting
all snug, and for putting the ports in, and
stirring the fires abit. Mayhap I've not followed
the seas twenty-seven years, and lived another
seven in these here woods, for nothing, gemmen.”

“Why, does it bid fair for a change in the
weather, Benjamin?” inquired the master of the
house.

“There's a shift of wind, your honour,” returned
the steward; “and when there's a shift of
wind, you may look for a change, in this here
climate. I was aboard of one of Rodney's fleet,
d'ye see, about the time we licked De Grasse,
Mounsheer Ler Quaw's countryman, there; and
the wind was here at the south'ard and east'ard;
and I was below, mixing a toothful of hot-stuff for
the Captain of marines, who dined, d'ye see, in
the cabin, that there very same day; and I suppose
he wanted to put out the Captain's fire with
a gun-room ingyne: and so, just as I got it to
my own liking, after tasting pretty often, for the
soldier was difficult to please, slap, come the
fore-sail ag'in the mast, and whiz, went the ship
round on her heel, like a whirlygig. And a
lucky thing was it that our helm was down; for
as she gathered starnway she payed off, which
was more than every ship in the fleet did, or could
do. But she strained herself in the trough of the
sea, and she shipped a deal of water over her
quarter. I never swallowed so much clear water
at a time, in my life, as I did then, for I was looking
up the after-hatch at the instant.”

“I wonder, Benjamin, that you did not die with
a dropsy!” said Marmaduke.

“I mought, Judge,” said the old tar, with a
broad grin; “but there was no need of the med'cine
chest for a cure; for, as I thought the brew
was spoilt for the marine's taste, and there was no
telling when another sea might come and spoil it
for mine, I finished the mug on the spot. So then
all hands was called to the pumps, and there we
began to ply the pumps—”

“Well, but the weather?” interrupted Marmaduke;
“what of the weather without doors?”

“Why, here the wind has been all day at the
south, and now there's a lull, as if the last blast
was out of the bellows; and there's a streak along
the mountain, to the north'ard, that, just now,
wasn't wider than the bigness of your hand; and
then the clouds drive afore it as you'd brail a
mainsail, and the stars are heaving in sight, like
so many lights and beacons, put there to warn us
to pile on the wood; and, if-so-be that I'm a
judge of weather, it's getting to be time to build
on a fire; or you'll have half of them there porter-bottles,
and them dimmy-johns of wine, in the
locker here, breaking with the frost, afore the
morning watch is called.”

“Thou art a prudent sentinel,” said the Judge.
“Act thy pleasure with the forests, for this night
at least.”

Benjamin did as he was ordered; nor had two
hours elapsed, before the prudence of his precautions
became very visible. The south wind had,
indeed, blown itself out, and it was succeeded by
the calmness that usually gave warning of a serious
change in the weather. Long before the
family retired to rest, the cold had become cuttingly
sever; and when Monsieur Le Quoi sallied
forth, under a bright moon, to seek his own

abode, he was compelled to beg a blanket, in
which he might envelope his form, in addition
to the numerous garments that his sagacity had
provided for the occasion. The divine and his
daughter remained, as inmates of the Mansion-house,
during the night, and the excess of last
night's merriment induced the gentlemen to make
an early retreat to their several apartments.—
Long before midnight, the whole family were invisible.

Elizabeth and her friend had not yet lost their
senses in sleep, when the howlings of the north-west
wind were heard around the buildings, and
brought with them that exquisite sense of comfort,
that is ever excited under such circumstances, in
an apartment where the fire has not yet ceased to
glimmer; and curtains, and shutters, and feathers,
unite to preserve the desired temperature in the
air. Once, just as her eyes had opened, apparently
in the last stage of drowsiness, the roaring
winds brought with them a long and plaintive
howl, that seemed too wild for a dog, and yet
strongly resembled the cries of that faithful animal,
when night awakens his vigilance, and gives
sweetness and solemnity to his alarms. The form
of Louisa Grant instinctively pressed nearer to
that of the young heiress, who, finding her companion
was yet awake, said, in a low tone, as if
afraid to break a charm with her voice—

“Those distant cries are plaintive, and even
beautiful. Can they be the hounds from the hut
of Leather-stocking?”

“They are wolves, who have ventured from the
mountain, on the lake,” whispered Louisa, “and
who are only kept from the village by the lights.
One night since we have been here, hunger drove
them to our very doors. Oh! what a dreadful
night it was! But the riches of Judge Temple

have given him too many safeguards, to leave
room for fear in this house.”

“The enterprise of Judge Temple is taming
the very forests!” exclaimed Elizabeth, proudly,
throwing off the covering, and partly rising in
the bed. “How rapidly is civilization treading
on the footsteps of nature!” she continued, as her
eye glanced over, not only the comforts, but the
luxuries of her apartment, and her ear again listened
to distant, but often repeated howls
from the lake. Finding, however, that the timidity
of her companion rendered the sounds painful
to her, Elizabeth resumed her place by her side,
and soon forgot the changes in the country, with
those in her own condition, in a deep sleep.

The following morning, the noise of the female
servant, who entered the apartment to light their
fire, awoke the young maidens, who form such
conspicuous subjects in our tale. They arose,
and finished the slight preparations of their toilettes
in a clear, cold atmosphere, that penetrated
through all the defences of even Miss Temple's
warm room. When Elizabeth was attried, she
approached a window and drew its curtain, and,
throwing open its shutters, she endeavoured to
look abroad on the village and the lake. But a
thick covering of frost, on the panes of glass,
while it admitted the light, hid the view. She
raised the sash, and then, indeed, a most glorious
scene met her delighted eye.

The lake had exchanged its covering of unspoted
snow, for a face of dark ice, that reflected the
rays of the rising sun, like a polished mirror.
The houses were clothed in a dress of the same
description, but which, owing to its position,
shone like bright steel; while the enormous icicles
that were pendent from every roof, caught the

brilliant light, apparently throwing it from one
to the other, as each glittered, on the side next
to the luminary, with a golden lustre, that melted
away, on its opposite, into the dusky shades of a
back-ground. But it was the appearance of the
boundless forests, that covered the hills, as they
rose, in the distance, one over the other, that
most attracted the gaze of Miss Temple. The
huge branches of the pines and hemlocks, on the
western mountains, bent with the weight of the
ice they supported, while their summits rose
above the swelling tops of the oaks, beeches, and
maples, like spires of burnished silver issuing
from domes of the same material. The limits of
the view, in this direction, were marked by an
undulating outline of bright light, as if, reversing
the order of nature, numberless suns might momentarily
be expected to heave above the western
horizon. In the foreground of the picture, along
the shores of the lake, and near to the village,
each tree seemed studded with diamonds, that
emitted their dancing rays, as the branches waved
gently under the impulse of the air. Even the
sides of the mountains, where the rays of the sun
could not yet fall, were decorated with a glassy
coat, that presented every gradation of brilliancy,
from the first touch of the luminary to the dark
foliage of the hemlock, glistening through its coat
of crystal. In short, the whole view was one
scene of quivering radiancy, as lake, mountains,
village, and woods, each emitted a portion of
light, tinged with its peculiar hue, and varied by
its position and its magnitude.

“See!” cried Elizabeth—“see, Louisa; hasten
to the window, and observe the miraculous
change.”

Miss Grant complied; and, after bending for a
moment in silence from the opening, she observed,

in a low tone, as if afraid to trust the sound
of her voice—

“The change is indeed wonderful! I am surprised
that he should be able to effect it so soon.”

Elizabeth turned in amazement, to hear such a
sceptical sentiment from one educated like her
companion; but was surprised to find that, instead
of looking at the view, the mild, blue eyes
of Miss Grant were dwelling on the form of a well-dressed
young man, who was standing before the
door of the building, in earnest conversation with
her father. A second look was necessary, before
she was able to recognise the person of the young
hunter, in a plain, but, assuredly; the ordinary
garb of a gentleman.

“Every thing in this magical country seems to
border on the marvellous,” said Elizabeth; “and
among all the changes, this is certainly not the
least wonderful. I am not surprised, that your
eye caught this transformation, without noticing
the changes in the view. The actors are as unique
as the scenery.”

Miss Grant coloured highly, and drew in her
head, as she answered—

“I am a simple girl, Miss Temple, and I am
afraid you will find me but a poor companion.—
I—I am not sure that I understand all that you
say. But I really thought that you wished me to
notice the alteration in Mr. Edwards. Is it not
more wonderful, when we recollect his origin?
They say he is part Indian.”

“He is certainly a genteel savage,” returned
the smiling Elizabeth. “But let us go down, and
give the Sachem his tea;—for I suppose he is a
descendant of King Philip, if not a grandson of
Pocahontas.”

The ladies were met in the hall by Judge Temple,
who took his daughter aside, to apprise her

of that alteration in the appearance of their new
inmate, with which she was already acquainted.

“He appears reluctant to converse on his former
situation,” continued Marmaduke; “but I
gather from his discourse, as is apparent from his
manner, that he has seen better days; and I really
am inclining to the opinion of Richard, as to
his origin; for it was no unusual thing for the Indian
Agents to rear their children in a laudable
manner, and—”

“Very well, my dear sir,” interrupted his
daughter, laughing, and averting her eyes; “it is
all well enough, I dare say; but as I do not
understand a word of the Mohawk language, he
must be content to speak English; and as for his
behaviour, I trust to your discernment to control
it.”

“Ay! but, Bess,” said the Judge, detaining
her gently, with his hand, “nothing must be said
to him of his past life. This he has begged particularly
of me, as a favour. He is, perhaps, a
little soured, just now, with his wounded arm;
but the injury seems very light, and another time
he may be more communicative.”

“Oh! I am not much troubled, sir, with that
laudable thirst after knowledge, that is called curiosity.
I shall believe him to be the child of
Corn-stalk, or Corn-planter, or some other renowned
chieftain; possibly of the Big Snake
himself; and shall treat him as such, until he
sees fit to shave his good-looking head, borrow
some half-dozen pair of my best ear-rings, shoulder
his rifle again, and disappear as suddenly as
he made his entrance. So come, my dear sir,
and let us not forget the rites of hospitality, for
the short time he is to remain with us.”

Judge Temple smiled, at the graceful playfulness
of his child, and taking her arm, they entered

the breakfast parlour, where the young hunter
was seated, with an air that showed his determination
to domesticate himself in the family, with as
little parade as possible.

Such were the incidents that led to this extraordinary
increase in the family of Judge Temple,
where, having once established the youth, the subject
of our tale requires us to leave him, for a time,
to pursue with diligence and intelligence the employments
that were assigned him by Marmaduke.

Major Hartmann made his customary visit, and
took his leave of the party, for the next three
months. Mr. Grant was compelled to be absent
much of his time, in remote parts of the country,
and his daughter became almost a constant visiter
at the Mansion-house. Richard entered, with his
constitutional eagerness, on the duties of his new
office; and, as Marmaduke was much employed,
with the constant applications of adventurers, for
farms, the winter passed swiftly away. The lake
was a principal scene for the amusements of the
young people; where the ladies, in their one-horse
cutter, driven by Richard, and attended, when
the snow would admit of it, by young Edwards,
on his skates, spent many hours, taking the benefit
of exercise in the clear air of the hills. The
reserve of the youth gradually gave way to time
and his situation, though it was still evident, to a
close observer, that he had frequent moments of
bitter and intense feeling.

Elizabeth saw many large openings appear in
the sides of the mountains, during the three succeeding
months, where different settlers had, in the
language of the country, “made their pitch;”
while the numberless sleighs that passed through
the village, loaded with wheat and barrels of potashes,
afforded a clear demonstration that all these
labours were not undertaken in vain. In short,

the whole country was exhibiting the bustle of a
thriving settlement, where the highways were
thronged with sleighs, bearing piles of rough
household furniture; studded, here and there, with
the smiling faces of women and children, happy
in the excitement of novelty; or with loads of
produce, hastening to the common market at Albany,
as served as so many snares, to induce the
emigrants to enter into those wild mountains in
search of competence and happiness.

The village was alive with business; the artisans
increasing in wealth with the prosperity of
the country, and each day witnessing some nearer
approach to the manners and usages of an old-settled
town. The man who carried the mail, or
“the post,” as he was called, talked much of running
a stage, and once or twice, during the winter,
he was seen taking a single passenger in his cutter,
through the snow-banks towards the Mohawk,
along which a regular vehicle glided, semi-weekly,
with the velocity of lightning, and under the
direction of a knowing whip from the “down
countries.” Towards spring, divers families, who
had been into the “old states,” to see their relatives,
returned, in time to save the snow, frequently
bringing with them whole neighbourhoods, who
were tempted by their representations to leave the
farms of Connecticut and Massachusetts, and make
a trial in the woods for fortune.

During all this time, Oliver Edwards, whose
sudden elevation excited no surprise in that
changeful country, was earnestly engaged in the
service of Marmaduke, during the days; but his
nights were often spent in the hut of Leather-stocking.
The intercourse between the three
hunters was maintained with a certain air of mystery,
it is true, but with much zeal and apparent
interest to all the parties. Even Mohegan seldom

came to the Mansion-house, and Natty, never;
but Edwards sought every leisure moment to visit
his former abode, from which he would often return
in the gloomy hours of night, through the
snow, or, if detained beyond the time at which
the family retired to rest, with the morning sun.
These visits certainly excited much speculation
in those to whom they were known, but no comments
were made, excepting occasionally in whispers
from Richard, who would say—

“It is not at all remarkable;—a half-breed can
never be weaned from the savage ways, any more
than a full-blooded Indian.”