University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

The roads of Otsego, if we except the principal
highways, were, at the early day of our tale,
but little better than wood-paths of unusual width.
The high trees that were growing on the very
verge of the wheel-tracks, excluded the sun's rays,
unless at meridian, and the slowness of the evaporation,
united with the rich mould of vegetable
decomposition, that covered the whole county,
to the depth of several inches, occasioned but an
indifferent foundation for the footing of travellers.
Added to these, there were the inequalities of a
natural surface, and the constant recurrence of
enormous and slippery roots, that were laid bare by
the removal of the light soil, together with stumps
of trees, to make a passage not only difficult but
dangerous. Yet the riders, among these numerous
obstructions, which were such as would terrify
an unpractised eye, gave no demonstrations
of uneasiness, as their horses toiled through the
sloughs, or trotted with uncertain paces along
their dark route. In many places, the marks on
the trees were the only indications of a road, with,

perhaps, an occasional remnant of a pine, that, by
being cut close to the earth, so as to leave nothing
visible but its base of roots, spreading for twenty
feet in every direction, was apparently placed
there as a beacon, to warn the traveller that it was
the centre of the highway.

Into one of these roads the active Sheriff led
the way, first striking out of the footpath, by
which they had descended from the sugar-bush,
across a little bridge, formed of round logs laid
loosely on sleepers of pine, in which large openings
were frequent, and in one instance, of a formidable
width. The nag of Richard, when it
reached this barrier, laid its nose along the logs,
and stepped across the difficult passage with the
sagacity of a man; but the blooded filly which
Miss Temple rode disdained so humble a movement.
She made a step or two with an unusual
caution, and then, on reaching the broadest opening,
obedient to the curb and whip of her fearless
mistress, she bounded across the dangerous pass,
with the activity of a squirrel.

“Gently, gently, my child,” said Marmaduke,
who was following in the manner of Richard—
“this is not a country for equestrian feats. Much
prudence is requisite, to journey through our
rough paths with safety. Thou mayst practise
thy skill in horsemanship on the plains of New-Jersey,
with safety, but in the hills of Otsego,
they must be suspended for a time.”

“I may as well, then, relinquish my saddle at
once, dear sir,” returned his daughter; “for if it
is to be laid aside until this wild country be improved,
old age will overtake me, and put an end
to what you term my equestrian feats.”

“Say not so, my child,” returned her father;
“but if thou venturest again, as in crossing this
bridge, old age will never overtake thee, but I

shall be left to mourn thee, cut off in thy pride,
my Elizabeth. If thou hadst seen this district of
country, as I did, when it lay in the sleep of nature,
and witnessed its rapid changes, as it awoke
to supply the wants of man, thou wouldst curb
thy impatience for a little time, though thou
shouldst not check thy steed.”

“I have a remembrance of hearing you speak,
sir, of your first visit to these woods, but the recollection
of it is faint, and blended with the confused
images of childhood. Wild and unsettled
as it may yet seem, it must have been a thousand
times more dreary then. Will you repeat, dear
sir, what you then thought of your enterprise, and
what you felt?”

During this speech of Elizabeth, which was
uttered with the interested fervour of affection,
young Edwards rode more closely to the side of
the Judge, and bent his dark eyes on his countenance,
with an expression that seemed to read
his thoughts.

“Thou wast then young, my child, but must
remember when I left thee and thy mother, to take
my first survey of these uninhabited mountains,”
said Marmaduke. “But thou dost not feel all the
secret motives that can urge a man to endure privations
in order to accumulate wealth. In my
case they have not been trifling, and God has
been pleased to smile on my efforts. If I have
encountered pain, famine, and disease, in accomplishing
the settlement of this rough territory, I
have not the misery of failure to add to the grievances.”

“Famine!” echoed Elizabeth; “I thought this
was the land of abundance! had you famine to
contend with?”

“Even so, my child,” said her father. “Those
who look around them now, and see the loads of

produce that issue out of every wild path in these
mountains, during the season of travelling, will
hardly credit that no more than five years have
elapsed, since the tenants of these woods were compelled
to eat the scanty fruits of the forest to sustain
life, and, with their unpractised skill, to hunt
the beasts as food for their starving families.”

“Ay!” cried Richard, who happened to overhear
the last of this speech, between the notes of
the wood-chopper's song, which he was endeavouring
to breathe aloud; “that was the starving-time,
cousin Bess. I grew as lank as a weasel
that fall, and my face was as pale as one of your
fever-and-ague visages. Monsieur Le Quoi,
there, fell away like a pumpkin in drying; nor
do I think you have got fairly over it yet, Monsieur.
Benjamin, I thought, bore it with a worse
grace than any of the family, for he swore it was
harder to endure than a short allowance in the
calm latitudes. Benjamin is a sad fellow to swear,
if you starve him ever so little. I had half a mind
to quit you then, 'duke, and go into Pennsylvania
to fatten; but, damn it, thinks I, we are sisters'
children, and I will live or die with him, after
all.”

“I do not forget thy kindness,” said Marmaduke,
“nor that we are of one blood.”

“But, my dear father,” cried the wondering
Elizabeth, “was there actual suffering? where were
the beautiful and fertile vales of the Mohawk?
could they not furnish food for your wants?”

“It was a season of scarcity; the necessities of
life commanded a high price in Europe, and were
greedily sought after by the speculators. The
emigrants, from the east to the west, invariably
passed along the valley of the Mohawk, and swept
away the means of subsistence, like a swarm of
locusts. Nor were the people on the Flats in

a much better condition. They were in want
themselves, but they spared the little excess
of provisions, that nature did not absolutely require,
with the justice of the German character.
There was no grinding of the poor. The word
speculator was then unknown to them. I have
seen many a stout man, bending under the load
of the bag of meal, which he was carrying from
the mills of the Mohawk, through the rugged
passes of these mountains, to feed his half-famished
children, with a heart so light, as he approached
his hut, that the thirty miles he had passed
seemed nothing. Remember, my child, it was in
our very infancy: we had neither mills, nor grain,
nor roads, nor often clearings;—we had nothing
of increase, but the mouths that were to be fed;
for, even at that inauspicious moment, the restless
spirit of emigration was not idle; nay, the general
scarcity, which extended to the east, tended to
increase the number of adventurers.”

“And how, dearest father, didst thou encounter
this dreadful evil?” said Elizabeth, unconsciously
adopting the dialect of her parent, in the
warmth of her sympathy. “Upon thee must have
fallen all the responsibility, if not the suffering.”

“It did, Elizabeth,” returned the Judge, pausing
for a single moment, as if musing on his former
feelings. “I had hundreds, at that dreadful
time, daily looking up to me for bread. The
sufferings of their families, and the gloomy prospect
before them, had paralysed the enterprise
and efforts of my settlers; hunger drove them to
the woods for food, but despair sent them, at night,
enfeebled and wan, to a sleepless pillow. It was
not a moment for inaction. I purchased cargoes
of wheat from the granaries of Pennsylvania; they
were landed at Albany, and brought up the Mohawk
in boats; from thence it was transported on

pack-horses into the wilderness, and distributed
amongst my people. Seines were made, and the
lakes and rivers were dragged for fish. Something
like a miracle was wrought in our favour,
for enormous shoals of herring were discovered
to have wandered five hundred miles, through the
windings of the impetuous Susquehanna, and the
lake was alive with their numbers. These were
at length caught, and dealt out to the people,
with proper portions of salt; and from that moment,
we again began to prosper.”

“Yes,” cried Richard, “and I was the man
who served out both the fish and the salt. When
the poor devils came to receive their rations,
Benjamin, who was my deputy, was obliged to
keep them off by stretching ropes around me, for
they smelt so of garlic, from eating nothing but
the wild onion, that the fumes put me out, often,
in my measurement. You were a child then,
Bess, and knew nothing of the matter, for great
care was observed to keep both you and your
mother from suffering. That year put me back,
dreadfully, both in the breed of my hogs, and of
my turkeys.”

“No, Bess,” cried the Judge, in a more cheerful
tone, utterly disregarding the interruption of
his cousin, “he who hears of the settlement of a
country, knows but little of the actual toil and
suffering by which it is accomplished. Unimproved
and wild as this district now seems to your
eyes, what was it when I first entered the hills! I
left my party, the morning of my arrival, back
near the farms of the Cherry Valley, and, following
a deer-path, rode to the summit of the mountain,
that I have since called Mount Vision; for
the sight that there met my eyes seemed to me as
the deceptions of a dream. The fire had run over
the pinnacle, and, in a great measure, laid open

the view. The leaves were fallen, and I mounted
a tree, and sat for an hour looking on the silent
wilderness. Not an opening was to be seen in
the boundless forest, except where the lake lay,
like a mirror of glass. The water was covered by
myriads of the wild-fowl that migrate with the
changes in the season; and, while in my situation
on the branch of the beech, I saw a bear, with her
cubs, descend to the shore to drink. I had met
many deer, gliding through the woods, in my journey;
but not the vestige of a man could I trace,
during my progress, nor from my elevated observatory.
No clearing, no hut, none of the winding
roads that are now to be seen, were there,
nothing but mountains rising behind mountains,
and the valley, with its surface of branches, enlivened
here and there with the faded foliage of
some tree, that parted from its leaves with more
than ordinary reluctance. Even the little Susquehanna
was then hid, by the height and density
of the forest.”

“And were you there alone?” asked Elizabeth;
“passed you the night in that solitary
state?”

“Not so, my child,” returned her father. “Atter
musing on the scene for an hour, with a mingled
feeling of pleasure and desolation, I left my
perch, and descended the mountain. My horse
was left to browse on the twigs that grew within
his reach, while I explored the shores of the lake,
and the spot where Templeton stands. A pine of
more than ordinary growth stood where my
dwelling is now placed! a wind-row had been
opened through the trees from thence to the lake,
and my view was but little impeded. Under the
branches of that tree I made my solitary dinner;
I had just finished my repast as I saw a smoke
curling from under the mountain, near the eastern

bank of the lake. It was the only indication of
the vicinity of man that I had then seen. After
much toil, I made my way to the spot, and found
a rough cabin of logs, built against the foot of a
rock, and bearing the marks of a tenant, though I
found no one within it.—”

“It was the hut of Leather-stocking,” said Edwards,
quickly.

“It was; though I, at first, supposed it to be
a habitation of the Indians. But while I was
lingering around the spot, Natty made his appearance,
staggering under the load of the carcass
of a buck that he had slain. Our acquaintance
commenced at that time; before, I had never
heard that such a being tenanted the woods. He
launched his bark canoe, and set me across the
foot of the lake, to the place where I had fastened
my horse, and pointed out a spot where he might
get a scanty browsing until the morning; when I
returned and passed the night in the cabin of the
hunter.”

Miss Temple was so much struck by the deep
attention of young Edwards, during this speech,
that she forgot to resume her interrogatories;
but the youth himself continued the discourse, by
asking, with a smile lurking around his features—

“And how did the Leather-stocking discharge
the duties of a host, sir?”

“Why, simply but kindly, until late in the
evening, when he discovered my name and object,
and the cordiality of his manner very sensibly
diminished, or, I might better say, disappeared.
He considered the introduction of the settlers as
an innovation on his rights, I believe; for he expressed
much dissatisfaction at the measure,
though it was in his confused and ambiguous manner.
I hardly understood his objections myself, but

suppose they referred chiefly to an interruption of
the hunting.”

“Had you then purchased the estate, or were
you examining it with an intent to buy?” asked
Edwards, a little abruptly.

It had been mine for several years. It was with
a view to people the land that I visited the lake.
Natty treated me hospitably, but coldly, I thought,
after he learnt the nature of my journey. I slept
on his own bear-skin, however, and in the morning
joined my surveyors again.”

“Said he nothing of the Indian rights, sir?”
continued Edwards. “The Leather-stocking is
much given to impeach the justice of the tenure
by which the whites hold the country.”

“I remember that he spoke of them, but I did
not clearly comprehend him, and may have forgotten
what he then said; for the Indian title was
extinguished so far back as the close of the old
war; and if it had not been at all, I hold under
the patents of the Royal Governors, confirmed by
an act of our own State Legislature, and no court
in our country can affect my title.”

“Doubtless, sir, your title is both legal and
equitable,” returned the youth, coldly, reining his
horse back, and remaining silent till the subject
was changed.

It was seldom that Mr. Jones suffered any conversation
to continue, for a great length of time,
without his participation. It seems that he was
of the party that Judge Temple had designated as
his surveyors; and he embraced the opportunity
of the pause that succeeded the retreat of young
Edwards, to take up the discourse, and with it a
narration of their further proceedings, after his
own manner. As it wanted, however, the interest
that had accompanied the description of the Judge,

we must decline the task of committing his sentences
to paper.

They soon reached the point where the promised
view was to be seen. It was one of those picturesque
and peculiar scenes, that belong to the
Otsego, but which required the absence of the ice,
and the softness of a summer's landscape, to be
enjoyed in all its beauty. Marmaduke had early
forewarned his daughter of the season, and of its
effect on the prospect, and after casting a cursory
glance at its capabilities, the party returned homeward,
perfectly satisfied that its beauties would
repay them for the toil of a second ride, at a more
propitious season.

“The spring is the gloomy time of the American
year,” said the Judge; and it is more peculiarly
the case in these mountains. The winter
seems to retreat to the fastnesses of the hills, as to
the citadel of its dominion, and is only expelled,
after a tedious siege, in which either party, at
times, would seem to be gaining the victory.”

“A very just and apposite figure, Judge Temple,”
observed the Sheriff; “and the garrison under
the command of Jack Frost make formidable
sorties—you understand what I mean by sorties,
Monsieur; sallies, in English—and sometimes
drive General Spring and his troops back again
into the low countries.”

“Yes, sair,” returned the Frenchman, whose
prominent eyes were watching the precarious footsteps
of the beast he rode, as it picked its dangerous
way among the roots of trees, holes, log-bridges,
and sloughs, that formed the aggregate of
the highway. “Je vous entend; de low countrie,
it ees freeze up for half de year.”

The error of Mr. Le Quoi was not noticed by
the Sheriff; and the rest of the party were yielding
to the influence of the changeful season, that

was already teaching the equestrians that a continuance
of its mildness was not to be expected
for any length of time. Silence and thoughtfulness
succeeded the gayety and conversation that
had prevailed during the commencement of their
ride, as clouds began to gather about the heavens,
apparently collecting from every quarter, in quick
motion, without the agency of a breath of air.

While riding over one of the cleared eminences
that occurred in their route, the watchful eye of
Judge Temple pointed out to his daughter the approach
of a tempest. Flurries of snow already
obscured the mountain that formed the northern
boundary of the lake, and the genial sensation
which had quickened the blood through their
veins, was already succeeded by the deadening
influence of an approaching north-wester.

All of the party were now busily engaged in
making the best of their way to the village, though
the badness of the roads frequently compelled
them to check the impatience of their animals,
which often carried them over places that would
not admit of any gait faster than a walk.

Richard continued in advance, and was followed
by Mr. Le Quoi; next to whom rode Elizabeth,
who seemed to have imbibed the distance
which pervaded the manner of young Edwards,
since the termination of the discourse between the
latter and her father. Marmaduke followed his
daughter, giving her frequent and tender warnings,
as to her safety, and the management of her
horse. It was, possibly, the evident dependance
that Louisa Grant placed on his assistance, which
induced the youth to continue by her side, as they
pursued their way through a dreary and dark
wood, where the rays of the sun could but rarely
penetrate, and where even the daylight was obscured
and rendered gloomy by the deep forests

that surrounded them. No wind had yet reached
the spot where the equestrians were in motion,
but that dead stillness that often precedes a storm,
contributed to render their situation more irksome
than if they were already subjected to the fury of
the tempest. Suddenly the voice of young Edwards
was heard shouting, in those appalling tones
that carry alarm to the very soul, and which curdle
the blood of those that hear them—

A tree! a tree!” whip—spur for your lives! a
tree! a tree!”

“A tree! a tree!” echoed Richard, giving his
horse a blow that caused the alarmed beast to
jump nearly a rod, throwing the mud and water
into the air, like a hurricane.

“Von tree! von tree!” shouted the Frenchman,
bending his body on the neck of his charger,
shutting his eyes, and playing on the ribs of
his beast with his heels, at a rate that caused him
to be conveyed, on the crupper of the Sheriff, with
a marvellous speed.

Elizabeth checked her filly, and looked up, with
an unconscious but alarmed air, at the very cause
of their danger, while she listened to the crackling
sounds that awoke the stillness of the forest; but,
at the next instant, her bridle was seized by her
father, who cried—

“God protect my child!” and she felt herself
hurried onward, impelled by the vigour of his
nervous arm.

Each one of the party bowed to their saddle-bows,
as the tearing of branches was succeeded
by a sound like the rushing of the winds, which
was followed by a thundering report, and a shock
that caused the very earth to tremble, as one of
the noblest ruins in the forest fell directly across
their path.

One glance was enough to assure Judge Temple

that his daughter, and those in front of him,
were safe, and he turned his eyes, in dreadful
anxiety, to learn the fate of the others. Young
Edwards was on the opposite side of the tree,
with his form thrown back in his saddle to its utmost
distance, his left hand drawing up his bridle
with its greatest force, while the right grasped
that of Miss Grant, so as to draw the head of her
horse under its body. Both the animals stood
shaking in every joint with terror, and snorting
fearfully. The maiden herself had relinquished
her reins, and with her hands pressed on her face,
sat bending forward in her saddle, in an attitude
of despair mingled strangely with resignation.

“Are you safe?” cried the Judge, first breaking
the awful silence of the moment.

“By God's blessing,” returned the youth; “but
if there had been branches to the tree we must
have been lost—”

He was interrupted by the figure of Louisa,
slowly yielding in her saddle; and but for his
arm, she would have sunken to the earth. Terror,
however, was the only injury that the clergyman's
daughter had sustained, and, with the aid
of Elizabeth, she was soon restored to her senses.
After some little time was lost in recovering her
strength, the young lady was replaced in her saddle,
and, supported on either side by Judge Temple
and Mr. Edwards, she was enabled to follow
the party in their slow progress.

“The sudden falling of the trees,” said
Marmaduke, “are the most dangerous of our accidents
in the forest, for they are not to be foreseen,
being impelled by no winds, nor any extraneous
or visible cause, against which we can
guard.”

“The reason of their falling, Judge Temple,
is very obvious,” said the Sheriff. “The tree is

old and decayed, and it is gradually weakened
by the frosts, until a line drawn from the centre
of gravity falls without its base, and then the tree
comes of a certainty; and I should like to know,
what greater compulsion there can be for any
thing, than a mathematical certainty. I studied
mathe—”

“Very true, Richard,” interrupted Marmaduke;
“thy reasoning is true, and if my memory
be not over treacherous, was furnished by myself
on a former occasion. But how is one to
guard against the danger? canst thou go through
the forests, measuring the bases, and calculating
the centres of the oaks? answer me that, friend
Jones, and I will say thou wilt do the country a
service.”

“Answer thee that, friend Temple!” returned
Richard; “a well-educated man can answer thee
any thing, sir. Do any trees fall in this manner,
but such as are decayed? Take care not to approach
the roots of any rotten trees, and you will
be safe enough.”

“That would be excluding us entirely from the
forests,” said Marmaduke. “But, happily, the
winds usually force down most of these dangerous
ruins, as their currents are admitted into the woods
by the surrounding clearings, and such a fall as
this has been is very rare.”

Louisa, by this time, had recovered so much of
her strength, as to allow the party to proceed at
a quicker pace; but long before they were safely
housed, they were overtaken by the storm; and
when they dismounted at the door of the Mansion-house,
the black plumes in Miss Temple's hat
were drooping with the weight of a load of damp
snow, and the coats of the gentlemen were powdered
with the same material.

While Edward was assisting Louisa from her
horse, the warm-hearted girl caught his hand with
fervour, and whispered—

“Now, Mr. Edwards, both father and daughter
owe their lives to you.”

A driving, north-westerly storm succeeded;
and before the sun was set, every vestige of spring
had vanished; the lake, the mountains, the village,
and the fields, being again hid under one
dazzling coat of snow.