University of Virginia Library

13. XIII.

Mary Jones at length trod the banks of the
Sweet Water, and footing it along the old pathway
to where the rivulet narrowed, she stood
under the gigantic tree which threw its sheltering
and concealing arms completely across the stream.
With an old habit, rather than a desire for its refreshment,
she took the gourd from the limb whence
it depended, pro bono publico, over the water, and
scooping up a draught of the innocent beverage,
she proceeded to drink, when, just as she carried
the vessel to her lips, a deep moan assailed her
ears, as from one in pain, and at a little distance.
She looked up, and the moan was repeated, and
with increased fervency. She saw nothing, however,
and somewhat startled, was about to turn
quickly on her way homeward, when a third and
more distinct repetition of the moan appealed so
strongly to her natural sense of duty, that she
could stand it no longer; and with the noblest of
all kinds of courage, for such is the courage of
humanity, she hastily tripped over the log which
ran across the stream, and proceeded in the direction
from whence the sounds had issued. A few

paces brought her in sight of the sufferer, who
was no other than our solitary acquaintance, Logoochie.
He lay upon the grass, doubled now
into a knot, and now stretching and writhing himself
about in agony. His whole appearance indicated
suffering, and there was nothing equivocal
in the expression of his moanings. The astonishment,
not to say fright, of the little cottage maiden,
may readily be conjectured. She saw, for the
first time, the hideous and uncouth outline of his
person — the ludicrous combination of feature in
his face. She had heard of Logoochie, vaguely;
and without giving much, if any credence, to the
mysterious tales related by the credulous woodman,
returning home at evening, of his encounter in the
forest with its pine-bodied divinity; — and now,
as she herself looked down upon the suffering and
moaning monster, it would be difficult to say,
whether curiosity or fear was the most active principle
in her bosom. He saw her approach, and
he half moved to rise and fly; but a sudden pang,
as it seemed, brought him back to a due sense of
the evil from which he was suffering, and, looking
towards the maiden with a mingled expression of
good humor and pain in his countenance, he seemed
to implore her assistance. The poor girl did
not exactly know what to do, or what to conjecture.
What sort of monster was it before her.
What queer, distorted, uncouth limbs — what
eyes, that twinkled and danced into one another
— and what a mouth. She was stupified for a
moment, until he spoke, and, stranger still, in a
language that she understood. And what a musical
voice, — how sweetly did the words roll forth,
and how soothingly, yet earnestly, did they strike
upon her ear. Language is indeed a god, and
powerful before all the rest. His words told her
all his misfortunes, and the tones were all-sufficient
to inspire confidence in one even more suspicious
than our innocent cottager. Besides, humanity
was a principle in her heart, while fear was only
an emotion, and she did not scruple, where the two
conflicted, after the pause for reflection of a moment,
to determine in favor of the former. She
approached Logoochie — she approached him,
firmly determined in her purpose, but trembling
all the while. As she drew nigh, the gentle monster
stretched himself out at length, patiently extending
one foot towards her, and raising it in
such a manner as to indicate the place which afflicted
him. She could scarce forbear laughing,
when she looked closely upon the strange feet.
They seemed covered with bark, like that of the
small leafed pine tree; but as she stooped, to her
great surprise, the coating of his sole flew wide
as if upon a hinge, showing below it a skin as
soft, and white, and tender, seemingly, as her
own. There, in the centre of the hollow, lay the
cause of his suffering. A poisonous thorn had
penetrated, almost to the head, as he had suddenly
leaped from the tree, the day before, upon the
gun being fired from the “Smashing Nancy.”
The spot around it was greatly inflamed, and Logoochie,
since the accident, had vainly striven, in
every possible way, to rid himself of the intruder.
His short, inflexible arms, had failed so to reach
it as to make his fingers available; and then,
having claws rather than nails, he could scarce
have done any thing for his own relief, even
could they have reached it. He now felt
the evil of his isolation, and the danger of his
seclusion from his brother divinities. His case
was one, indeed, of severe bachelorism; and,
doubtless, had his condition been less than that of
a deity, the approach of Mary Jones to his aid,
at such a moment, would have produced a decided
revolution in his domestic economy. Still
trembling, the maiden bent herself down to the
task, and with a fine courage, that did not allow
his uncouth limbs to scare, or his wild and monstrous
features to deter, she applied her own small
fingers to the foot, and carefully grappling the
head of the wounding thorn with her nails, with
a successful effort, she drew it forth, and rid him
of his encumbrance. The wood-god leaped to
his feet, threw a dozen antics in the air, to the
great terror of Mary, then running a little way
into the forest, soon returned with a handful of
fresh leaves, which he bruised between his fingers,
and applied to the irritated and wounded foot.
He was well in a moment after, and pointing the
astonished Mary to the bush from which he had
taken the anointing leaves, thus made her acquainted
with one item in the history of Indian pharmacy.