University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.

When we were quietly seated after dinner, I requested
some further insight into Mrs. Danforth's early
history, the prosy flow of which was just in keeping
with the long dreamy course of the afternoon, unbroken
as it was by any sound more awakening than the
ceaseless click of knitting-needles, or an occasional
yawn from the town lady who found the farniente
rather burdensome.

She smiled complacently and took up the broken
thread at the right place, evidently quite pleased to find
she had excited so much interest.

“When Mr. Spangler's nephew came after he was
dead and gone, he was very close in asking all about
the business, and seein' after the mortgages and such
like. Now, George had never got his deed recorded.

He felt as if it was'nt worth while to lose a day's
work, as he could send it any time by one of his neighbours.
But when we found what sort of a man Mr.
Wilkins was, we tho't it was high time to set about it.
He had talked a good deal about the place and said the
old man must have been crazy to let us have it so cheap,
and once went so far as to offer my husband a hundeed
dollars for his bargain. So John Green, a good
neighbour of ours, sent us word one morning that he
was going, and would call and get the deed, as he
knew we wanted to send it up, and I got it out and laid
it ready on the stand and put the big bible on it to
keep it safe. But he did not come, something happened
that he could not go that day: and I had jist
took up the deed to put it back in the chest, when in
came Wilkins. He had an eye like a hawk; and I
was afraid he would see that it was a deed, and ask to
look at it, and then I could n't refuse to hand it to him,
you know, so I jist slipped it back under the bible before
I turned to ask him what was his will.

“`Didn't John Saunderson leave my bridle here?'
says he. So I stepped into the other room and got
it, and he took it and walked off without speaking a
word; and when I went to put away the deed, it was
gone!

“My husband came in while I sat crying fit to break
my heart; but all I could do I could not make him believe
that Wilkins had got it. He said I had put it
somewhere else without thinking, that people often felt
just as sure as I did, and found themselves mistaken
after all. But I knew better, and though I hunted high

and low to please him, I knew well enough where it
was. When he found we must give it up he never
gave me a word of blame, but charged me not to say
anything about the loss, for, wherever the deed was,
Wilkins was just the man to take advantage if he knew
we had lost it.

“Well, things went on in this way for a while, and I
had many a good cryin' spell, I tell ye! and one evening
when George was away, in comes Wilkins, I was
sittin' alone at my knittin', heavy hearted enough, and
the schoolmaster was in the little room; for that was
his week to board with us.

“`Is your man at home?' says he; I said—No; but
I expected him soon, so he sat down and began the old
story about the place, and at last he says,

“`I'd like to look at that deed if you've no objection,
Mrs. Danforth.' I was so mad, I forgot what
George had told me, and spoke right out.

“I should think, says I, you'd had it long enough
to know it all by heart.

“`What does the woman mean?' says he.

“You know well enough what I mean, says I, you
know you took it from off this table, and from under
this blessed book, the very last time you was in this
house.

“If I had not known it before, I should have been
certain then, for his face was as white as the wall and
he trembled when he spoke in spite of his impudence.
But I could have bit off my own tongue when I tho't
how imprudent I had been, and what my husband
would say. He talked very angry as you may think.

“`Only say that where anybody else can hear you,'

says he, `and I'll make it cost your husband all he is
worth in the world.'

“He spoke so loud that Mr. Peeler, the master, came
out of the room to see what was the matter, and Wilkins
bullied away and told Peeler what I had said, and
dared me to say it over again. The master looked as
if he knew something about it but did not speak. Just
then the door opened, and in came George Danforth led
between two men as pale as death, and dripping wet
from head to foot. You may think how I felt! Well,
they would n't give no answer about what was the
matter till they got George into bed—only one of'em
said he had been in the canal. Wilkins pretended to
be too angry to notice my husband, but kept talking
away to himself—and was jist a beginning at me again,
when one of the men said, `Squire, I guess Henry 'll
want some looking after; for Mr. Danforth has just got
him out of the water.'

“If I live to be an hundred years old I shall never
forget how Wilkins looked. There was every thing in
his face at once. He seemed as if he would pitch
head-foremost out of the door when he started to go
home—for Henry was his only child.

“When he was gone, and my husband had got warm
and recovered himself a little, he told us, that he had
seen Henry fall into the lock, and soused right in after
him, and they had come very near drowning together,
and so stayed in so long that they were about senseless
when they got into the air again. Then I told him all
that had happened—and then Peeler, he up, and told
that he saw Wilkins take a paper off the stand the time

I opened the bed-room door, to get the bridle, for he was
at our house then.

“I was very glad to hear it to be sure; but the very
next morning came a new deed and the mortgage with
a few lines from Mr. Wilkins, saying how thankful he
was, and that he hoped George would oblige him by
accepting some compensation. George sent back the
mortgage, saying he would rather not take it, but
thanked him kindly for the deed. So then I was glad
Peeler had n't spoke, 'cause it would have set Wilkins
against him. After that we thought it was best to sell
out and come away, for such feelings, you know, a'n't
pleasant among neighbours, and we had talked some of
coming to Michigan afore.

“We had most awful hard times at first. Many's
the day I've worked from sunrise till dark in the fields
gathering brush heaps and burning stumps. But that's
all over now; and we've got four times as much land
as we ever should have owned in York-State.”

I have since had occasion to observe that this forms
a prominent and frequent theme of self-gratulation
among the settlers in Michigan. The possession of a
large number of acres is esteemed a great good, though
it makes but little difference in the owner's mode of
living. Comforts do not seem to abound in proportion
to landed increase, but often on the contrary, are really
diminished for the sake of it: and the habit of selling
out so frequently makes that home-feeling, which is so
large an ingredient in happiness elsewhere, almost a
nonentity in Michigan. The man who holds himself
ready to accept the first advantageous offer, will not be
very solicitous to provide those minor accommodations,

which, though essential to domestic comfort, will not add
to the moneyed value of his farm, which he considers
merely an article of trade, and which he knows his
successor will look upon in the same light. I have
sometimes thought that our neighbours forget that “the
days of man's life are three score years and ten,” since
they spend all their lives in getting ready to begin.