University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.

All this time, I saw Ursula Malbone daily, and at all
hours of the day. Inmates of the same dwelling, we met
constantly, and many were the interviews and conversations
which took place between us. Had Dus been the most
finished coquette in existence, her practised ingenuity could
not have devised more happy expedients to awaken interest
in me than those which were really put in use by this singular
girl, without the slightest intention of bringing about
any such result. Indeed, it was the nature, the total absence
of art, that formed one of the brightest attractions of
her character, and gave so keen a zest to her cleverness
and beauty. In that day, females, while busied in the affairs
of their household, appeared in “short-gown and petticoat,”
as it was termed, a species of livery that even ladies often
assumed of a morning. The toilette was of far wider
range in 1784 than it is now, the distinctions between morning
and evening dress being much broader then than at present.
As soon as she was placed really at the head of her
brother's house, Ursula Malbone set about the duties of her
new station quietly and without the slightest fuss, but actively
and with interest. She seemed to me to possess, in a
high degree, that particular merit of carrying on the details

of her office in a silent, unobtrusive manner, while they
were performed most effectually and entirely to the comfort
of those for whose benefit her care was exercised. I am not
one of those domestic canters who fancy a woman, in order
to make a good wife, needs be a drudge and possess the
knowledge of a cook or a laundress; but it is certainly of
great importance that she have the faculty of presiding
over her family with intelligence, and an attention that is
suited to her means of expenditure. Most of all is it important
that she knows how to govern without being seen
or heard.

The wife of an educated man should be an educated woman;
one fit to be his associate, qualified to mingle her
tastes with his own, to exchange ideas, and otherwise to be
his companion, in an intellectual sense. These are the
higher requisites; a gentleman accepting the minor qualifications
as so many extra advantages, if kept within their
proper limits; but as positive disadvantages if they interfere
with, or in any manner mar the manners, temper, or mental
improvement of the woman whom he has chosen as his wife,
and not as his domestic. Some sacrifices may be necessary
in those cases in which cultivation exists without a sufficiency
of means; but, even then, it is seldom indeed that a woman
of the proper qualities may not be prevented from sinking
to the level of a menial. As for the cant of the newspapers
on such subjects, it usually comes from those whose homes
are merely places for “board and lodging.”

The address with which Dus discharged all the functions
of her new station, while she avoided those that were unseemly
and out of place, charmed me almost as much as
her spirit, character and beauty. The negroes removed all
necessity for her descending to absolute toil; and with what
pretty, feminine dexterity did she perform the duties that
properly belonged to her station! Always cheerful, frequently
singing, not in a noisy milk-maid mood, but at
those moments when she might fancy herself unheard, and
in sweet, plaintive songs that seemed to recall the scenes of
other days. Always cheerful, however, is saying a little
too much; for, occasionally, Dus was sad. I found her in
tears three or four times, but did not dare inquire into their
cause. There was scarce time, indeed; for, the instant

I appeared, she dried her eyes, and received me with
smiles.

It is scarcely necessary to say that to me the time passed
pleasantly, and amazingly fast. Chainbearer remained at
the Nest by my orders, for he would not yield to requests;
and I do not remember a more delightful month than that
proved to be. I made a very general acquaintance with my
tenants, and found many of them as straight-forward, honest,
hard-working yeomen, as one could wish to meet. My brother
major, in particular, was a hearty old fellow, and often
came to see me, living on the farm that adjoined my own.
He growled a little about the sect that had got possession of
the new `meetin'-us,” but did it in a way to show there was
not much gall in his own temperament.

“I don't rightly understand these majority-matters,” said
the old fellow, one day that we were talking the matter over,
“though I very well know Newcome always manages to
get one, let the folks think as they will. I've known the
'squire contrive to cut a majority out of about a fourth of
all present, and he does it in a way that is desp'ret ingen'ous,
I will allow, though I 'm afeard it 's neither law nor gospel.”

“He certainly managed, in the affair of the denomination,
to make a plurality of one appear in the end to be a very
handsome majority over all!”

“Ay, there's twists and turns in these things, that's beyond
my l'arnin', though I s'pose all's right. It don't matter
much in the long run, a'ter all, where a man worships,
provided he worships; or who preaches, so that he listens.”

I think this liberality—if that be the proper word—in religious
matters, is fast increasing among us; though liberality
may be but another term for indifference. As for us Episcopalians,
I wonder there are any left in the country, though
we are largely on the increase. There we were, a church
that insisted on Episcopal ministrations—on confirmation in
particular—left for a century without a bishop, and unable
to conform to practices that it was insisted on were essential,
and this solely because it did not suit the policy of the mother-country
to grant us prelates of our own, or to send us,
occasionally even, one of her's! How miserable do human
expedients often appear when they are tried by the tests of
common sense! A church of God, insisting on certain spi

ritual essentials that it denies to a portion of its people, in
order to conciliate worldly interests! It is not the church
of England alone, however, nor the government of England,
that is justly obnoxious to such an accusation; something
equally bad and just as inconsistent, attaching itself to the
ecclesiastical influence of every other system in christendom
under which the state is tied to religion by means of human
provisions. The mistake is in connecting the things of the
world with the things that are of God.

Alas!—alas! When you sever that pernicious tie, is the
matter much benefited? How is it among ourselves? Are
not sects, and shades of sects, springing up among us on
every side, until the struggle between parsons is getting to
be not who shall aid in making most Christians, but who
shall gather into his fold most sectarians? As for the people
themselves, instead of regarding churches, even after they
have established them, and that too very much on their own
authority, they first consider their own tastes, enmities and
predilections, respecting the priest far more than the altar,
and set themselves up as a sort of religious constituencies,
who are to be represented directly in the government of
Christ's followers on earth. Half of a parish will fly off in a
passion to another denomination if they happen to fall into
a minority. Truly, a large portion of our people is beginning
to act in this matter, as if they had a sense of “giving
their support” to the Deity, patronising him in this temple
or the other, as may suit the feeling or the interest of the
moment.[1]

But, I am not writing homilies, and will return to the
Nest and my friends. A day or two after Mr. Newcome
received his new lease, Chainbearer, Frank, Dus and I were
in the little arbour that overlooked the meadows, when we
saw Sureflint, moving at an Indian's pace, along a path that
came out of the forest, and which was known to lead towards

Mooseridge. The Onondago carried his rifle as usual,
and bore on his back a large bunch of something that we
supposed to be game, though the distance prevented our discerning
its precise character. In half a minute he disappeared
behind a projection of the cliffs, trotting towards the
buildings.

“My friend, the Trackless, has been absent from us now
a longer time than usual,” Ursula remarked, as she turned
her head from following the Indian's movements, as long as
he remained in sight; “but he re-appears loaded with something
for our benefit.”

“He has passed most of his time of late with your uncle,
I believe,” I answered, following Dus's fine eyes with my
own, the pleasantest pursuit I could discover in that remote
quarter of the world. “I have written this to my father,
who will be glad to hear tidings of his old friend.”

“He is much with my uncle, as you say, being greatly
attached to him. Ah! here he comes, with such a load on
his shoulders as an Indian does not love to bear; though
even a chief will condescend to carry game.”

As Dus ceased speaking, Sureflint threw a large bunch
of pigeons, some two or three dozen birds, at her feet, turning
away quietly, like one who had done his part of the
work, and who left the remainder to be managed by the
squaws.

“Thank you, Trackless,” said the pretty housekeeper—
“thank'ee kindly. These are beautiful birds, and as fat as
butter. We shall have them cleaned, and cooked in all
manner of ways.”

“All squab — just go to fly — take him ebbery one in
nest,” answered the Indian.

“Nests must be plenty, then, and I should like to visit
them,” I cried, remembering to have heard strange marvels
of the multitudes of pigeons that were frequently found in
their `roosts,' as the encampments they made in the woods
were often termed in the parlance of the country. “Can
we not go in a body and visit this roost?”

“It might pe tone,” answered the Chainbearer; “it might
pe tone, and it is time we wast moving in t'eir tirection, if
more lant is to pe surveyet, ant t'ese pirts came from t'e

hill I suppose t'ey do. Mooseridge promiset to have plenty
of pigeons t'is season.”

“Just so”—answered Sureflint. “Million, t'ousan', hundred—more
too. Nebber see more; nebber see so many.
Great Spirit don't forget poor Injin; sometime give him
deer — sometime salmon — sometime pigeon — plenty for
ebbery body; only t'ink so.”

“Ay, Sureflint; only t'ink so, inteet, and t'ere is enough
for us all, and plenty to spare. Got is pountiful to us, put
we ton't often know how to use his pounty,” answered
Chainbearer, who had been examining the birds — “Finer
squaps arn't often met wit'; and I too shoult like amazingly
to see one more roost, pefore I go to roost myself.”

“As for the visit to the roost,” cried I, “that is settled for
to-morrow. But a man who has just come out of a war like
the last, into peaceable times, has no occasion to speak of
his end, Chainbearer. You are old in years, but young in
mind, as well as body.”

“Bot' nearly wore out—bot' nearly wore out! It is well
to tell an olt fool t'e contrary, put I know petter. T'ree
score and ten is man's time, and I haf fillet up t'e numper
of my tays. Got knows pest, when it wilt pe his own pleasure
to call me away; put, let it come when it will, I shall
now tie happy, comparet wit' what I shoult haf tone a mont'
ago.”

“You surprise me, my dear friend! What has happened
to make this difference in your feelings?—It cannot be that
you are changed in any essential!”

“'T'e tifference is in Dus's prospects. Now Frank has a
goot place, my gal will not pe forsaken.”

“Forsaken! Dus — Ursula — Miss Malbone forsaken!
That could never happen, Andries, Frank or no Frank.”

“I hope not—I hope not, lat—put t'e gal pegins to weep,
and we'll talk no more apout it. Harkee, Susquesus; my
olt frient, can you guite us to t'is roost?”

“Why no do it, eh? — Path wide — open whole way.
Plain as river.”

“Well, t'en, we wilt all pe off for t'e place in t'e mornin'.
My new assistant is near, and it is high time Frank and I
hat gone into t'e woots ag'in.”

I heard this arrangement made, though my eyes were
following Dus, who had started from her seat, and rushed
into the house, endeavouring to hide emotions that were
not to be hushed. A minute later I saw her at the window
of her own room, smiling, though the cloud had not yet entirely
dispersed.

Next morning early our whole party left the Nest for the
hut at Mooseridge, and the pigeon-roosts. Dus and the
black female servant travelled on horseback, there being no
want of cattle at the Nest, where, as I now learned, my
grandfather had left a quarter of a century before, among a
variety of other articles, several side-saddles. The rest of
us proceeded on foot, though we had no less than three
sumpter beasts to carry our food, instruments, clothes, &c.
Each man was armed, almost as a matter of course in that
day, though I carried a double-barrelled fowling-piece myself,
instead of a rifle. Susquesus acted as our guide.

We were quite an hour before we reached the limits of
the settled farms on my own property; after which, we entered
the virgin forest. In consequence of the late war,
which had brought everything like the settlement of the
country to a dead stand, a new district had then little of the
straggling, suburb-like clearings, which are apt now to encircle
the older portions of a region that is in the state of
transition. On the contrary, the last well-fenced and reasonably
well-cultivated farm passed, we plunged into the boundless
woods, and took a complete leave of nearly every vestige
of civilized life, as one enters the fields on quitting a town
in France. There was a path, it is true, following the line
of blazed trees; but it was scarcely beaten, and was almost
as illegible as a bad hand. Still, one accustomed to the
forest had little difficulty in following it; and Susquesus
would have had none in finding his way, had there been no
path at all. As for the Chainbearer, he moved forward too,
with the utmost precision and confidence, the habit of running
straight lines amid trees having given his eye an accuracy
that almost equalled the species of instinct that was
manifested by the Trackless himself, on such subjects.

This was a pleasant little journey, the depths of the forest
rendering the heats of the season as agreeable as was possible.
We were four hours in reaching the foot of the little

mountain on which the birds had built their nests, where we
halted to take some refreshments.

Little time is lost at meals in the forest, and we were soon
ready to ascend the hill. The horses were left with the
blacks, Dus accompanying us on foot. As we left the spring
where we had halted, I offered her an arm to aid in the
ascent; but she declined it, apparently much amused that it
should have been offered.

“What I, a chainbearess!” she cried, laughing—“I, who
have fairly wearied out Frank, and even made my uncle feel
tired, though he would never own it — I accept an arm to
help me up a hill! You forget, major Littlepage, that the
first ten years of my life were passed in a forest, and that a
year's practice has brought back all my old habits, and
made me a girl of the woods again.”

“I scarce know what to make of you, for you seem fitted
for any situation in which you may happen to be thrown,”
I answered, profiting by the circumstance that we were out
of the hearing of our companions, who had all moved ahead,
to utter more than I otherwise might venture to say — “at
one time I fancy you the daughter of one of my own tenants;
at another, the heiress of some ancient patroon.”

Dus laughed again; then she blushed; and, for the remainder
of the short ascent, she remained silent. Short the
ascent was, and we were soon on the summit of the hill.
So far from needing my assistance, Dus actually left me
behind, exerting herself in a way that brought her up at the
side of the Trackless, who led our van. Whether this was
done in order to prove how completely she was a forest girl,
or whether my words had aroused those feelings that are
apt to render a female impulsive, is more than I can say
even now; though I suspected at the time that the latter
sensations had quite as much to do with this extraordinary
activity as the former. I was not far behind, however, and
when our party came fairly upon the roost, the Trackless,
Dus and myself, were all close together.

I scarce know how to describe that remarkable scene.
As we drew near to the summit of the hill, pigeons began to
be seen fluttering among the branches over our heads, as
individuals are met along the roads that lead into the suburbs
of a large town. We had probably seen a thousand birds

glancing around among the trees, before we came in view
of the roost itself. The numbers increased as we drew
nearer, and presently the forest was alive with them. The
fluttering was incessant, and often startling as we passed
ahead, our march producing a movement in the living crowd,
that really became confounding. Every tree was literally
covered with nests, many having at least a thousand of
these frail tenements on their branches, and shaded by the
leaves. They often touched each other, a wonderful degree
of order prevailing among the hundreds of thousands of
families that were here assembled. The place had the odour
of a fowl-house, and squabs just fledged sufficiently to trust
themselves in short flights, were fluttering around us in all
directions, in tens of thousands. To these were to be added
the parents of the young race endeavouring to protect them,
and guide them in a way to escape harm. Although the
birds rose as we approached, and the woods just around us
seemed fairly alive with pigeons, our presence produced no
general commotion; every one of the feathered throng appearing
to be so much occupied with its own concerns, as
to take little heed of the visit of a party of strangers, though
of a race usually so formidable to their own. The masses
moved before us precisely as a crowd of human beings yields
to a pressure or a danger on any given point; the vacuum
created by its passage filling in its rear, as the water of the
ocean flows into the track of the keel.

The effect on most of us was confounding, and I can only
compare the sensation produced on myself by the extraordinary
tumult to that a man experiences at finding himself
suddenly placed in the midst of an excited throng of human
beings. The unnatural disregard of our persons manifested
by the birds greatly heightened the effect, and caused me to
feel as if some unearthly influence reigned in the place. It
was strange, indeed, to be in a mob of the feathered race,
that scarce exhibited a consciousness of one's presence. The
pigeons seemed a world of themselves, and too much occupied
with their own concerns to take heed of matters that
lay beyond them.

Not one of our party spoke for several minutes. Astonishment
seemed to hold us all tongue-tied, and we moved slowly
forward into the fluttering throng, silent, absorbed, and full

of admiration of the works of the Creator. It was not easy
to hear each other's voices when we did speak, the incessant
fluttering of wings filling the air. Nor were the birds silent
in other respects. The pigeon is not a noisy creature, but
a million crowded together on the summit of one hill, occupying
a space of less than a mile square, did not leave the
forest in its ordinary impressive stillness. As we advanced,
I offered my arm, almost unconsciously, again to Dus, and
she took it with the same abstracted manner as that in which
it had been held forth for her acceptance. In this relation to
each other, we continued to follow the grave-looking Onondago,
as he moved, still deeper and deeper, into the midst
of the fluttering tumult.

At this instant there occurred an interruption that, I am
ready enough to confess, caused the blood to rush towards
my own heart in a flood. As for Dus, she clung to me, as
woman will cling to man, when he possesses her confidence,
and she feels that she is insufficient for her own support.
Both hands were on my arm, and I felt that, unconsciously,
her form was pressing closer to mine, in a manner she
would have carefully avoided in a moment of perfect self-possession.
Nevertheless, I cannot say that Dus was afraid.
Her colour was heightened, her charming eyes were filled
with a wonder that was not unmixed with curiosity, but
her air was spirited in spite of a scene that might try
the nerves of the boldest man. Sureflint and Chainbearer
were alone totally unmoved; for they had been at pigeon's
roosts before, and knew what to expect. To them the wonders
of the woods were no longer novel. Each stood leaning
on his rifle, and smiling at our evident astonishment. I am
wrong; the Indian did not even smile; for that would have
been an unusual indication of feeling for him to manifest;
but he did betray a sort of covert consciousness that the
scene must be astounding to us. But, I will endeavour to
explain what it was that so largely increased the first effect
of our visit.

While standing wondering at the extraordinary scene
around us, a noise was heard rising above that of the incessant
fluttering, which I can only liken to that of the
trampling of thousands of horses on a beaten road. This

noise at first sounded distant, but it increased rapidly in
proximity and power, until it came rolling in upon us,
among the tree-tops, like a crash of thunder. The air was
suddenly darkened, and the place where we stood as sombre
as a dusky twilight. At the same instant, all the pigeons
near us, that had been on their nests, appeared to fall out
of them, and the space immediately above our heads was
at once filled with birds. Chaos itself could hardly have
represented greater confusion, or a greater uproar. As for
the birds, they now seemed to disregard our presence entirely;
possibly they could not see us on account of their
own numbers; for they fluttered in between Dus and myself,
hitting us with their wings, and at times appearing as
if about to bury us in avalanches of pigeons. Each of us
caught one at least in our hands, while Chainbearer and the
Indian took them in some numbers, letting one prisoner go
as another was taken. In a word, we seemed to be in a
world of pigeons. This part of the scene may have lasted
a minute, when the space around us was suddenly cleared,
the birds glancing upwards among the branches of the trees,
disappearing among the foliage. All this was the effect produced
by the return of the female birds, which had been off
at a distance, some twenty miles at least, to feed on beechnuts,
and which now assumed the places of the males on
the nests; the latter taking a flight to get their meal in their
turn.

I have since had the curiosity to make a sort of an estimate
of the number of the birds that must have come in
upon the roost, in that, to us, memorable minute. Such a
calculation, as a matter of course, must be very vague,
though one may get certain principles by estimating the size
of a flock by the known rapidity of the flight, and other
similar means; and I remember that Frank Malbone and
myself supposed that a million of birds must have come in
on that return, and as many departed! As the pigeon is a
very voracious bird, the question is apt to present itself,
where food is obtained for so many mouths; but, when we
remember the vast extent of the American forests, this difficulty
is at once met. Admitting that the colony we visited
contained many millions of birds, and, counting old and
young, I have no doubt it did, there was probably a fruit-bearing

tree for each, within an hour's flight from that very
spot!

Such is the scale on which nature labours in the wilderness!
I have seen insects fluttering in the air at particular
seasons, and at particular places, until they formed little
clouds; a sight every one must have witnessed on many
occasions; and as those insects appeared, on their diminished
scale, so did the pigeons appear to us at the roost of
Mooseridge. We passed an hour in the town of the birds,
finding our tongues and our other faculties as we became
accustomed to our situation. In a short time, even Dus
grew as composed as at all comported with the excitement
natural to one in such a place; and we studied the habits
of the pretty animals with a zest that I found so much the
greater for studying them in her company. At the end of
the hour we left the hill, our departure producing no more
sensation in that countless tribe of pigeons than our arrival.

“It is a proof that numbers can change our natures,”
said Dus, as we descended the little mountain. “Here have
we been almost in contact with pigeons which would not
have suffered us to come within a hundred feet of them had
they been in ordinary flocks, or as single birds. Is it that
numbers give them courage?”

“Confidence, rather. It is just so with men; who will
exhibit an indifference in crowds that they rarely possess
when alone. The sights, interruptions, and even dangers
that will draw all our attention when with a few, often seem
indifferent to us when in the tumult of a throng of fellow-creatures.”

“What is meant by a panic in an army, then?”

“It is following the same law, making man subject to
the impulses of those around him. If the impulse be onward,
onward we go; if for retreat, we run like sheep. If
occupied with ourselves as a body, we disregard trifling interruptions,
as these pigeons have just done in our own case.
Large bodies of animals, whether human or not, seem to
become subject to certain general laws that increase the
power of the whole over the acts and feelings of any one or
any few of their number.”

“According to that rule, our new republican form of government
ought to be a very strong one; though I have

heard many express their fears it will be no government
at all.”

“Unless a miracle be wrought in our behalf, it will be
the strongest government in the world for certain purposes,
and the weakest for others. It professes a principle of self-preservation
that is not enjoyed by other systems, since the
people must revolt against themselves to overturn it; but,
on the other hand, it will want the active, living principle
of steady, consistent justice, since there will be no independent
power whose duty and whose interest it will be to see
it administered. The wisest man I ever knew has prophesied
to me that this is the point on which our system will
break down; rendering the character, the person and the
property of the citizen insecure, and consequently the institutions
odious to those who once have loved them.”

“I trust there is no danger of that!” said Dus, quickly.

“There is danger from everything that man controls.
We have those among us who preach the possible perfection
of the human race, maintaining the gross delusion that men
are what they are known to be, merely because they have
been ill-governed; and a more dangerous theory, in my
poor judgment, cannot be broached.”

“You think, then, that the theory is false?”

“Beyond a question—governments are oftener spoiled by
men than men by governments; though the last certainly
have a marked influence on character. The best government
of which we know anything, is that of the universe;
and it is so, merely because it proceeds from a single will,
that will being without blemish.”

“Your despotic governments are said to be the very worst
in the world.”

“They are good or bad as they happen to be administered.
The necessity of maintaining such governments by
force renders them often oppressive; but a government of
numbers may become even more despotic than that of an
individual; since the people will, in some mode or other,
always sustain the oppressed as against the despot, but
rarely, or never, as against themselves. You saw that those
pigeons lost their instinct, under the impulse given by numbers.
God for ever protect me against the tyranny of numbers!”

“But everybody says our system is admirable, and the
best in the world; and even a despot's government is the
government of a man.”

“It is one of the effects of numbers that men shrink from
speaking the truth, when they find themselves opposed to
large majorities. As respects self-rule, the colonies were
ever freer than the mother country; and we are, as yet,
merely pursuing our ancient practices, substituting allegiance
to the confederation for allegiance to the king. The difference
is not sufficiently material to produce early changes.
We are to wait until that which there is of new principles in
our present system shall have time to work radical changes,
when we shall begin to ascertain how much better we really
are than our neighbours.”[2]

Dus and I continued to converse on this subject until she
got again into the saddle. I was delighted with her good
sense and intelligence, which were made apparent more in
the pertinacity of her questions than by any positive knowledge
she had on such subjects, which usually have very
few attractions for young women. Nevertheless, Dus had
an activity of mind and a readiness of perception that supplied
many of the deficiencies of education on these points;
and I do not remember to have ever been engaged in a political
discussion from which I derived so much satisfaction.
I must own, however, it is possible that the golden hair
flying about a face that was just as ruddy as comported

with the delicacy of the sex, the rich mouth, the brilliant
teeth, and the spirited and yet tender blue eyes, may have
increased a wisdom that I found so remarkable.