University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

The next day I was to spend in the society of my
hostess; and I felt in no haste to quit my eyrie,
although it was terribly close, but waited a call from
one of the little maidens before I attempted my twilight
toilet. When I descended the ladder, nobody was visible
but the womankind.

After breakfast Mrs. Danforth mentioned that she
was going about a mile into the woods to visit a neighbour
whose son had been bitten by a Massisanga (I
spell the word by ear) and was not expected to live.

I inquired of course—“Why, law! it's a rattle-snake;
the Indians call them Massisangas and so folks
calls 'em so too.”

“Are they often seen here?”

“Why, no, not very; as far from the mash as this.
I han't seen but two this spring, and them was here in
the garden, and I killed 'em both.”

“You killed them!”

“Why, law, yes!—Betsey come in one night after
tea and told me on 'em, and we went out, and she held
the candle while I killed them. But I tell you we had
a real chase after them!”

My desire for a long walk through the woods, was
somewhat cooled by this conversation; nevertheless
upon the good dame's reiterated assurance that there
was no danger, and that she would “as lief meet forty
on 'em as not,” I consented to accompany her, and our
path through the dim forest was as enchanting as one
of poor Shelley's gemmed and leafy dreams. The
distance seemed nothing and I scarcely remembered
the rattle-snakes.

We found the poor boy in not quite so sad a case as
had been expected. A physician had arrived from
—, about fourteen miles off, and had brought with
him a quantity of spirits of Hartshorn, with which the
poisoned limb had now been constantly bathed for some
hours, while frequent small doses of the same specific
had been administered. This course had produced a
change, and the pale and weary mother had begun to
hope.

The boy had been fishing in the stream which was
to make the fortune of Montacute, and in kneeling to
search for bait, had roused the snake which bit him
just above the knee. The entire limb was frightfully
swollen and covered with large livid spots “exactly
like the snake,” as the woman stated with an air of
mysterious meaning.

When I saw the body of the snake, which the father
had found without difficulty, and killed very near the
scene of the accident, so slow are these creatures

generally—I found it difficult to trace the resemblance
between its brilliant colours, and the purplish brown
blotches on the poor boy's leg. But the superstition
once received, imagination supplies all deficiencies.
A firm belief in some inscrutable connexion between
the spots on the snake and the spots on the wounded
person is universal in this region, as I have since frequently
heard.

During our walk homeward, sauntering as we did to
prolong the enjoyment, my hostess gave me a little
sketch of her own early history, and she had interested
me so strongly by her unaffected kindliness, and withal
a certain dash of espiéglerie, that I listened to the homely
recital with a good deal of pleasure.

“I was always pretty lucky” she began—and as I
looked at her benevolent countenance with its broad
expansive brow and gentle eyes, I thought such people
are apt to be “lucky” even in this world of disappointments.

“My mother did'n't live to bring me up,” she continued,
“but a man by the name of Spangler that had
no children took me and did for me as if I had been
his own; sent me to school and all. His wife was a
real mother to me. She was a weakly woman, hardly
ever able to sit up all day. I don't believe she ever
spun a hank of yarn in her life; but she was a proper
nice woman, and Spangler loved her just as well as if
she had been ever so smart.”

Mrs. Danforth seemed to dwell on this point in her
friend's character with peculiar respect,—that he should
love a wife who could not do her own work. I could
not help telling her she reminded me of a man weeping

for the loss of his partner—his neighbours trying to
comfort him, by urging the usual topics; he cut them
short, looking up at the same time with an inconsolable
air—“Ah! but she was such a dreadful good
creature to work!”

Mrs. Danforth said gravely, “Well, I suppose the
poor feller had a family of children to do for;” and
after a reflective pause continued—“Well, Miss Spangler
had a little one after all, when I was quite a big
girl, and you never see folks so pleased as they! Mr.
Spangler seemed as if he could not find folks enough
to be good to, that winter. He had the prayers of the
poor, I tell ye. There was'nt a baby born anywheres
in our neighbourhood, that whole blessed winter, but
what he found out whether the mother had what would
make her comfortable, and sent whatever was wanted.

“He little thought that baby that he thought so much
on was going to cost him so dear. His wife was never
well again! She only lived through the summer and
died when the frost came, just like the flowers; and he
never held up his head afterwards. He had been a
professor for a good many years, but he did'nt seem
then to have neither faith nor hope. He would'nt
hear reason from nobody. I always thought that was
the reason the baby died. It only lived about a year.
Well, I had the baby to bring up by hand, and so I was
living there yet when Mr. Spangler took sick. He
seemed always like a broken-hearted man, but still he
took comfort with the baby, and by and bye the little
dear took the croup and died all in a minute like. It
began to be bad after tea and it was dead before sunrise.
Then I saw plain enough nothing could be done

for the father. He wasted away just like an April
snow. I took as good care on him as I could, and when
it came towards the last he would'nt have any body
else give him even so much as a cup of tea. He set
his house in order if ever any man did. He settled up
his business and gave receipts to many poor folks that
owed him small debts, besides giving away a great
many things, and paying all those that had helped take
care of him. I think he knew what kind of a feller his
nephew was, that was to have all when he was gone.

“Well, all this is neither here nor there. George
Danforth and I had been keeping company then a good
while, and Mr. Spangler knew we'd been only waiting
till I could be spared, so he sent for George one day
and told him that he had long intended to give me a
small house and lot jist back of where he lived, but,
seein things stood jist as they did, he advised George
to buy a farm of his that was for sale on the edge of
the village, and he would credit him for as much as the
house and lot would have been worth, and he could pay
the rest by his labour in the course of two or three
years. Sure enough, he gave him a deed and took a
mortgage, and it was so worded, that he could not be
hurried to pay, and every body said it was the greatest
bargain that ever was. And Mr. Spangler gave me a
nice settin out besides.—But if there is n't the boys
comin in to dinner, and I bet there's nothin ready for
'em!” So saying, the good woman quickened her
pace, and for the next hour her whole attention was
absorbed by the “savoury cates,” fried pork and parsnips.