University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

While one of the lovely beings we have so cursorily
presented to the reader, was thus lost in thought, the
other quickly recovered from the slight alarm which
induced the exclamation, and, laughing at her own
weakness, she inquired playfully of the youth who
rode by her side—

“Are such spectres frequent in the woods, Heyward;
or is this sight an especial entertainment, ordered
in our behalf. If the latter, gratitude must
close our mouths; but if the former, both Cora and
I shall have need to draw largely on that stock of hereditary
courage of which we boast, even before we
are made to encounter the redoubtable Montcalm.”

“Yon Indian is a `runner' of our army, and, after
the fashion of his people, he may be accounted a
hero,” returned the young officer, to whom she addressed
herself—“He has volunteered to guide us to
the lake, by a path but little known, sooner than if
we followed the tardy movements of the column; and,
by consequence, more agreeably.”

“I like him not,” said the lady, shuddering, partly

in assumed, yet more in real terror. “You know him,
Duncan, or you would not trust yourself so freely to
his keeping?”

“Say, rather, Alice, that I would not trust you,”
returned the young man, impressively; “I do know
him, or he would not have my confidence, and
least of all, at this moment. He is said to be a Canadian,
too; and yet he served with our friends the
Mohawks, who, as you know, are one of the six allied
nations. He was brought amongst us, as I have heard,
by some strange accident, in which your father was interested,
and in which the savage was rigidly dealt by
—but I forget the idle tale; it is enough, that he is
now our friend.”

“If he has been my father's enemy, I like him still
less!” exclaimed the now really anxious maiden.
“Will you not speak to him, Major Heyward, that I
may hear his tones? Foolish though it may be, you
have often heard me avow my faith in the tones of the
human voice!”

“It would be in vain; and answered, most probably,
by an ejaculation. Though he may understand
it, he affects, like most of his people, to be ignorant
of the English; and least of all, will he condescend to
speak it, now that war demands the utmost exercise
of his dignity. But he stops; the private path by
which we are to journey is, doubtless, at hand.”

The conjecture of Major Heyward was true.
When they reached the spot where the Indian stood,
pointing into the thicket that fringed the military
road, a narrow and blind path, which might, with

some little inconvenience, receive one person at a
time, became visible.

“Here, then, lies our way,” said the young man, in
a low voice. “Manifest no distrust, or you may invite
the danger you appear to apprehend.”

“Cora, what think you?” asked the reluctant fair
one. “If we journey with the troops, though we may
find their presence irksome, shall we not feel better
assurance of our safety?”

“Being little accustomed to the practices of the
savages, Alice, you mistake the place of real danger,”
said Heyward. “If enemies have reached the portage
at all, a thing by no means probable, as our scouts
are abroad, they will surely be found skirting the
column, where scalps abound the most. The route of
the detachment is known, while ours, having been determined
within the hour, must still be secret.”

“Should we distrust the man, because his manners
are not our manners, and that his skin is dark!”
coldly asked Cora.

Alice hesitated no longer; but giving her Narraganset
a smart cut of the whip, she was the first to dash
aside the slight branches of the bushes, and to follow
the runner along the dark and tangled path-way.
The young man regarded the last speaker in open
admiration, and even permitted her fairer, though
certainly not more beautiful companion, to proceed
unattended, while he sedulously opened a way himself,
for the passage of her who has been called Cora.
It would seem that the domestics had been previously
instructed; for, instead of penetrating the

thicket, they followed the route of the column; a
measure, which Heyward stated, had been dictated
by the sagacity of their guide, in order to diminish the
marks of their trail, if, haply, the Canadian savages
should be lurking so far in advance of their army.
For many minutes, the intricacy of their route admitted
of no further dialogue; after which they emerged
from the broad border of underbrush, which grew
along the line of the highway, and entered under the
high, but dark arches of the forest. Here, their progress
was less interrupted; and the instant their guide
perceived that the females could command their
steeds, he moved on, at a pace between a trot and a
walk; and at a rate which kept the sure-footed and
peculiar animals they rode, at a fast, and yet easy
amble. The youth had turned, to speak to the dark-eyed
Cora, when the distant sounds of horses' hoofs,
clattering over the roots of the broken way in his rear,
caused him to check his charger; and as his companions
drew their reins at the same instant, the whole
party came to a halt, in order to obtain an explanation
of the unlooked for interruption.

In a few moments, a colt was seen gliding, like a
fallow deer, amongst the straight trunks of the pines;
and in another instant, the person of the ungainly
man, described in the preceding chapter, came into
view, with as much rapidity as he could excite his
meager beast to endure, without coming to an open
rupture. In their short passage from the quarters of
Webb to their attendants, no opportunity had been
furnished the travellers to look upon the personage
who now approached them. If he possessed the power

to arrest any wandering eye, when exhibiting the
glories of his altitude on foot, his equestrian graces
were quite as observable. Notwithstanding a constant
application of his one armed heel to the flanks
of the mare, the most confirmed gait that he could
establish, was a Canterbury gallop with the hind legs,
in which those more forward assisted for doubtful
moments, though generally content to maintain a
lopeing trot. Perhaps the rapidity of the changes
from one of these paces to the other, created an optical
illusion, which might thus magnify the powers of
the beast; for it is certain that Heyward, who possessed
a true eye for the merits of a horse, was unable,
with his utmost ingenuity, to decide, by what sort of
movement his pursuer worked his sinuous way on
his foot-steps, with such persevering hardihood.

The industry and movements of the rider were
not less remarkable than those of the ridden. At
each change in the evolutions of the latter, the former
raised his tall person in the stirrups; producing, in
this manner, by the undue elongation of his legs, such
sudden growths and diminishings of the stature, as
baffled every conjecture that might be made as to his
character. If to this be added the fact, that in consequence
of the ex parte application of the spur, one
side of the mare appeared to journey faster than the
other; and that the aggrieved flank was resolutely indicated,
by unremitted flourishes of her bushy tail,
we finish the picture of both horse and man.

The frown which had gathered around the handsome,
open, and manly brow of Heyward, gradually relaxed,
and his lips curled into a slight smile, as he regarded

the stranger. Alice made no very powerful effort to
control her merriment; and even the dark, thoughtful
eye of Cora, lighted with a humour that, it would
seem, the habit, rather than the nature of its mistress,
repressed.

“Seek you any here?” demanded Heyward, when
the other had arrived sufficiently nigh to abate his
speed; “I trust you are no messenger of evil
tidings.”

“Even so,” replied the stranger, making diligent
use of his triangular castor, to produce a circulation
in the close air of the woods, and leaving his hearers
in doubt, to which of the young man's questions he
responded; when, however, he had cooled his face,
and recovered his breath, he continued, “I hear you
are riding to William Henry; as I am journeying
thitherward myself, I concluded good company would
seem consistent to the wishes of both parties.”

“The division of voices would appear to be unjustly
measured,” returned Heyward; “We are
three, whilst you have no one to consult but yourself.”

“Not more unjustly, than that one gallant should
be charged with the care and keeping of two youthful
ladies,” said the other, with a manner divided between
simplicity and vulgar repartee. “If, however, he be a
true man, and they true women, they will despite
each other's humour, and come over to his opinion,
in all matters of contradictory opinions; so you have
no more to consult than I!”

The fair maiden dropped her laughing eyes to the
bridle of her filly, and the slight flush on her cheek
deepened to a rich bloom; while the glowing tints of

her companion's colour altered even to paleness, as
she slowly rode ahead, like one who already tired of
the interview.

“If you journey to the lake, you have mistaken
your route,” said Heyward, haughtily; “the highway
thither is at least half-a-mile behind you.”

“Even so,” returned the stranger, nothing daunted
by this cold reception; “I have tarried at `Edward'
a week, and I should be dumb, not to have inquired
the road I was to journey; and if dumb, there would
be an end to my calling.” After simpering in a small
way, like one whose modesty prohibited a more open
expression of his admiration of a witticism, that was
perfectly unintelligible to his hearers, he continued,
with becoming gravity, “It is not prudent for one of
my profession to be too familiar with those he has to
instruct; for which reason, I follow not the line of
the army: besides which, I conclude that a gentleman
of your character, has the best judgment in matters
of way-faring; I have therefore decided to join
company, in order that the ride may be made agreeable,
and partake of social communion.”

“A most arbitrary, if not a hasty decision!” exclaimed
Heyward, undecided whether to give vent to
his growing anger, or to laugh aloud in the other's face.
“But you speak of instruction, and of a profession;
are you an adjunct to the provincial corps, as a master
of the noble science of defence and offence? or,
perhaps, you are one who draws lines and angles, under
the pretence of expounding the mathematics?”

The stranger regarded his interrogator a moment,
in open wonder; and then, losing every mark of self-satisfaction

in an expression of solemn humility, he
answered:

“Of offence, I hope there is none, to either party:
of defence, I make none—by God's good mercy,
having committed no palpable sin, since last entreating
his pardoning grace. I understand not your
allusions about lines and angles; and I leave expounding,
to those who have been called and set
apart for that holy office. I lay claim to no higher
gift, than a small insight into the glorious art of petition
and thanksgiving, as practised in psalmody.”

“The man is, most manifestly, a disciple of Apollo,”
cried the amused Alice, who had recovered from her
momentary embarrassment, “and I take him under my
own especial protection. Nay, throw aside that frown,
Heyward, and, in pity to my longing ears, suffer him
to journey in our train. Besides,” she added, in a
low and hurried voice, casting a glance at the distant
Cora, who slowly followed the footsteps of their silent
but sullen guide, “it may be a friend added to our
strength in time of need.”

“Think you, Alice, that I would trust those I love
by this secret path, did I imagine such need could
happen?”

“Nay, nay, I think not of it now; but this strange
man amuses me; and if he `hath music in his soul,'
let us not churlishly reject his company.” She
pointed persuasively along the path, with her riding
whip, while their eyes met in a look, which the young
man lingered a moment to prolong, then, yielding to
her gentle influence, he clapt his spurs into his charger,
and in a few bounds, was again at the side of Cora.

“I am glad to encounter thee, friend,” continued
the maiden, waving her hand to the stranger to proceed,
as she urged her Narraganset to renew its amble.
“Partial relatives have almost persuaded me, that I
am not entirely worthless in a duette myself; and we
may enliven our way-faring, by indulging in our favourite
pursuit. It might be of signal advantage to
one, ignorant as I, to hear the opinions and experience
of a master in the art.”

“It is refreshing both to the spirits and to the body, to
indulge in psalmody, in befitting seasons,” returned
the master of song, unhesitatingly complying with her
intimation to follow; “and nothing would relieve
the mind more, than such a consoling communion.
But four parts are altogether necessary to the perfection
of melody. You have all the manifestations
of a soft and rich treble; I can, by especial aid, carry
a full tenor to the highest letter; but we lack counter
and bass! Yon officer of the king, who hesitated to
admit me to his company, might fill the latter, if
one may judge from the intonations of his voice in
common dialogue.”

“Judge not too rashly, from hasty and deceptive
appearances,” said the lady, smiling; “though
Major Heyward can assume such deep notes, on occasion,
believe me, his natural tones are better fitted
for a mellow tenor, than the bass you heard.”

“Is he, then, much practised in the art of psalmody?”
demanded her simple companion.

Alice felt disposed to laugh, though she succeeded in
suppressing the sounds of her merriment, ere she answered,—

“I apprehend that he is rather addicted to profane
song. The turmoils and chances of a soldier's life,
are but little fitted for the encouragement of more
sober inclinations.”

“Man's voice is given to him, like his other talents,
to be used, and not to be abused,” said her companion.
“None can say they have ever known me
neglect my gifts! I am thankful that, though my boyhood
may be said to have been set apart, like the
youth of the royal David, for the purposes of music,
no syllable of rude verse has ever profaned my lips.”

“You have, then, limited your efforts to sacred
song?”

“Even so. As the psalms of David exceed all
other language, so does the psalmody that has been
fitted to them by the divines and sages of the land,
surpass all vain poetry. Happily, I may say, that I
utter nothing but the thoughts and the wishes of the
King of Israel himself; for though the times may call
for some slight changes, yet does this version, which
we use in the colonies of New-England, so much exceed
all other versions, that, by its richness, its exactness,
and its spiritual simplicity, it approacheth, as near
as may be, to the great work of the inspired writer.
I never abide in any place, sleeping or waking, without
an example of this gifted work. 'Tis the six-and-twentieth
edition, promulgated at Boston, Anno
Domini, 1744; and is entitled, `The Psalms, Hymns,
and Spiritual Songs of the Old and New Testaments;
faithfully translated into English Metre, for the Use,
Edification, and Comfort of the Saints in Public and
Private, especially in New-England.”'

During this eulogium on the rare production of
his native poets, the stranger had drawn the book
from his pocket, and fitting a pair of iron-rimmed
spectacles to his nose, had opened the volume with a
care and veneration suited to its sacred purposes.
Then, without circumlocution or apology, first pronouncing
the magical word, “Standish,” and placing
the unknown engine, already described, to his mouth,
from which he drew a high, shrill sound, that was followed
by an octave below, from his own voice, he
commenced singing the following words, in full, sweet,
and melodious tones, that set the music, the poetry,
and even the uneasy motion of his ill-trained beast, at
defiance:

The delivery of these skilful rhymes was accompanied,
on the part of the stranger, by a regular rise and
fall of his right hand, which terminated at the descent,
by suffering the fingers to dwell a moment on
the leaves of the little volume; and on the ascent, by
such a flourish of the member, as none but the initiated
may ever hope to imitate. It would seem, that
long practice had rendered this manual accompaniment
necessary; for it did not cease, until the significant
preposition which the poet had so judiciously

selected for the close of his verse, had been duly delivered
in the fullest dignity of a word of two syllables.

Such an innovation on the silence and retirement
of the forest, could not fail to enlist the ears of those
who journeyed at so short a distance in advance.
The Indian muttered a few words in broken English,
to Heyward, who, in his turn, spoke to the stranger;
at once interrupting, and, for the time, closing his musical
efforts.

“Though we are not in danger, common prudence
would teach us to journey through this wilderness in
as quiet a manner as is convenient. You will, then,
pardon me, Alice, should I diminish your enjoyments
for a time, by requesting this gentleman to postpone
his chant until a safer opportunity.”

“You will diminish them, indeed,” returned the
arch maiden, “for never did I hear a more unworthy
conjunction of execution and language, than that to
which I have been listening; and I was far gone in
a learned inquiry into the causes of such an unfitness
between sound and sense, when you broke the
charm of my musings by that bass of yours, Duncan!”

“I know not what you call my bass,” said Heyward,
evidently piqued at her remark, “but I know
that your safety, and that of Cora, is far dearer to me
than could be any orchestra of Handel's music.” He
paused, and turned his head quickly towards a thicket,
and then bent his eyes suspiciously on their guide,
who continued his steady pace in undisturbed gravity.
The young man smiled contemptuously to himself, as
he believed he had mistaken some shining herry of the

woods, for the glistening eye-balls of a prowling savage,
and he rode forward, continuing the conversation
which had been thus interrupted by the passing
thought.

Major Heyward was mistaken only in suffering his
youthful and generous pride to suppress for a single
moment his active watchfulness. The cavalcade had
not long passed, before the branches of the bushes that
formed the thicket, were cautiously moved asunder,
and a human visage, as fiercely wild as savage art and
unbridled passions could make it, peered out on the
retiring footsteps of the travellers. A gleam of exultation
shot across the darkly painted lineaments of
the inhabitant of the forest, as he traced the route of
his intended victims, who rode unconsciously onward;
the light and graceful forms of the females waving
among the trees, in the curvatures of their path, followed
at each bend by the manly figure of Heyward;
until, finally, the shapeless person of the singing master
was concealed behind the numberless trunks of
trees, that rose in dark lines in the intermediate
space.