University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.

Rogers.

During the hunt there was little leisure for reflection on
the seemingly extraordinary manner in which the bee-hunter
had pointed out the spot where the bears were to be found.
No one of the Indians had seen him apply the glass to his
eye, for, leading the party, he had been able to do this unobserved;
but, had they witnessed such a procedure, it
would have been as inexplicable as all the rest. It is true,
Crowsfeather and one or two of his companions had taken
a look through that medicine-glass, but it rather contributed
to increase the conjurer's renown, than served to explain
any of the marvels he performed.

Peter was most struck with all that had just occurred.
He had often heard of the skill of those who hunted bees,
and had several times met with individuals who practised
the art, but this was the first occasion on which he had
ever been a witness, in his own person, of the exercise of
a craft so wonderful! Had the process been simply that
of catching a bee, filling it with honey, letting it go, and
then following it to its hive, it would have been so simple
as to require no explanation. But Peter was too intelligent,
as well as too observant, not to have seen that a great
deal more than this was necessary. On the supposition
that the bee flew towards the forest, as had been the fact
with two of the bees taken that morning, in what part of
that forest was the hunter to lok for the bee-tree? It was
the angle that perplexed Peter, as it did all the Indians;
for that angle, to be understood, required a degree of
knowledge and calculation that entirely exceeded all he
had ever acquired. Thus is it with us ever. The powers,
and faculties, and principles that are necessary fully to

comprehend all that we see, and all that surrounds us, exist
and have been bestowed on man by his beneficent Creator.
Still, it is only by slow degrees that he is to become their
master, acquiring knowledge step by step, as he has need
of its services, and learns how to use it. Such seems to
be the design of Providence, which is gradually opening to
our inquiries the arcana of nature, in order that we may
convert their possession into such uses as will advance its
own wise intentions. Happy are they who feel this truth
in their character of individuals! Thrice happy the nations
which can be made to understand, that the surest
progress is that which is made on the clearest principles,
and with the greatest caution! The notion of setting up
anything new in morals, is as fallacious in theory as it will
be found to be dangerous in practice.

It has been said that a sudden change had come over
the fierce purposes of Peter. For some time, the nature,
artlessness, truth, feminine playfulness and kindness, not
to say personal beauty of Margery, had been gradually
softening the heart of this stern savage, as it respected the
girl herself. Nothing of a weak nature was blended with
this feeling, which was purely the growth of that divine
principle that is implanted in us all. The quiet, earnest
manner in which the girl had, that day, protested her desire
to see the rights of the red man respected, completed her
conquest; and, so far as the great chief was concerned,
secured her safety. It may seem singular, however, that
Peter, with all his influence, was unable to say that even
one that he was so much disposed to favour, should be
spared. By means of his own eloquence, and perseverance,
and deep desire for vengeance, however, he had
aroused a spirit among his followers that was not so easily
quelled. On several occasions, he had found it difficult to
prevent the younger and more impetuous of the chiefs from
proceeding at once to secure the scalps of those who were
in their power; and this he had done, only by promising to
increase the number of the victims. How was he then to
lessen that number? and that, too, when circumstances did
not seem likely to throw any more immediately into his
power, as he had once hoped. This council must soon be
over, and it would not be in his power to send the chiefs

away without enumerating the scalps of the pale-faces present
among those which were to make up the sum of their
race.

Taking the perplexity produced by the bee-hunter's necromancy,
and adding it to his concern for Margery, Peter
found ample subject for all his reflections. While the
young men were dressing their bears, and making the preparations
for a feast, he walked apart, like a man whose
thoughts had little in common with the surrounding scene.
Even the further proceedings of le Bourdon, who had discovered
his bee-tree, had felled it, and was then distributing
the honey among the Indians, could not draw him from his
meditations. The great council of all was to be held that
very day—there, on Prairie Round—and it was imperative
on Peter to settle the policy he intended to pursue, previously
to the hour when the fire was to be lighted, and the
chiefs met in final consultation.

In the meau time, le Bourdon, by his distribution of the
honey, no less than by the manner in which he had found
it, was winning golden opinions of those who shared in his
bounty. One would think that the idea of property is implanted
in us by nature, since men in all conditions appear
to entertain strong and distinct notions of this right. Natural
it may not be, in the true signification of the term;
but it is a right so interwoven with those that are derived
from nature, and more particularly with our wants, as almost
to identify it with the individual being. It is certain
that all we have of civilization is dependent on a just protection
of this right; for, without the assurance of enjoying
his earnings, who would produce beyond the supply
necessary for his own immediate wants? Among the American
savages the rights of property are distinctly recognised,
so far as their habits and resources extend. The
hunting-ground belongs to the tribe, and occasionally the
field; but the wigwam, and the arms, and the skins, both
for use and for market, and often the horses, and all other
movables, belong to the individual. So sacred is this right
held to be, that not one of those who stood by, and saw le
Bourdon fell his tree, and who witnessed the operation of
bringing to light its stores of honey, appeared to dream of
meddling with the delicious store, until invited so to do by

its lawful owner. It was this reserve, and this respect for
a recognised principle, that enabled the bee-hunter to purchase
a great deal of popularity, by giving away liberally
an article so much prized. None, indeed, was reserved;
Boden seeing the impossibility of carrying it away. Happy
would he have been, most happy, could he have felt the assurance
of being able to get Margery off, without giving a
second thought to any of his effects, whether present or
absent.

As has been intimated, the bee-hunter was fast rising in
the favour of the warriors; particularly of those who had
a weakness on the score of the stomach. This is the first
great avenue to the favour of man—the belly ruling all the
other members, the brains included. All this Peter noted,
and was now glad to perceive; for, in addition to the favour
that Margery had found in his eyes, that wary chief had
certain very serious misgivings on the subject of the prudence
of attempting to deal harshly with a medicine-man
of Boden's calibre. Touching the whiskey-spring he had
been doubtful, from the first; even Crowsfeather's account
of the wonderful glass through which that chief had looked,
and seen men reduced to children, and then converted into
giants, had failed to conquer his scepticism; but he was
not altogether proof against what he had that day beheld
with his own eyes. These marvels shook his previous
opinion touching the other matters; and, altogether, the
effect was to elevate the bee-hunter to a height, that it really
appeared dangerous to assail.

While Peter was thus shaken with doubts, and that too
on a point on which he had hitherto stood as firm as a rock,
there was another in the crowed, who noted the growing
favour of le Bourdon with deep disgust. This man could
hardly be termed a chief, though he possessed a malignant
power that was often wielded to the discomfiture of those
who were. He went by the significant appellation of “The
Weasel,” a sobriquet that had been bestowed on him for
some supposed resemblance to the little pilfering, prowling
quadruped after which he was thus named. In person, and
in physical qualities generally, this individual was mean
and ill-favoured; and squalid habits contributed to render
him even less attractive than he might otherwise have been.

He was, moreover, particularly addicted to intemperance;
lying, wallowing like a hog, for days at a time, whenever
his tribe received any of the ample contribution of fire-water,
which it was then more the custom than it is to-day,
to send among the aborigines. A warrior of no renown,
a hunter so indifferent as to compel his squaw and pappooses
often to beg for food in strange lodges, of mean presence,
and a drunkard, it may seem extraordinary that The
Weasel should possess any influence amid so many chiefs
renowned for courage, wisdom, deeds in arms, on the hunt,
and for services around the council-fire. It was all due to
his tongue. Ungque, or The Weasel, was eloquent in a
high degree, possessing that variety of his art which most
addresses itself to the passions; and, strange as it may
seem, men are oftener and more easily led by those who do
little else than promise, than by those who actually perform.
A lying and fluent tongue becomes a power of itself, with
the masses; subverting reason, looking down justice, browbeating
truth, and otherwise placing the wrong before the
right. This quality The Weasel possessed in a high degree,
and was ever willing to use, on occasions that seemed
most likely to defeat the wishes of those he hated. Among
the last was Peter, whose known ascendency in his own particular
tribe had been a source of great envy and uneasiness
to this Indian. He had struggled hard to resist it,
and had even dared to speak in favour of the pale-faces, and
in opposition to the plan of cutting them all off, purely with
a disposition to oppose this mysterious stranger. It had
been in vain, however; the current running the other way,
and the fiery eloquence of Peter proving too strong even
for him. Now, to his surprise, from a few words dropped
casually, this man ascertained that their greatest leader was
disposed so far to relent, as not to destroy all the pale-faces
in his power. Whom, and how many he meant to spare,
Ungque could not tell; but his quick, practised discernment
detected the general disposition, and his ruthless
tendency to oppose, caused him to cast about for the
means of resisting this sudden inclination to show mercy.
With The Weasel, the moving principle was ever that of
the demagogue; it was to flatter the mass that he might
lead it; and he had an innate hostility to whatever was
frank, manly, and noble.

The time had now come when the Indians wished to be
alone. At this council it was their intention to come to an
important decision; and even the “young men,” unless
chiefs, were to be merely distant spectators. Peter sent
for le Bourdon, accordingly, and communicated his wish
that all the whites would return to the castle, whither he
promised to join them about the setting of the sun, or early
the succeeding day.

“One of you, you know — dat my wigwam,” said the
grim chief, smiling on Margery with a friendly eye, and
shaking hands with the bee-hunter, who thought his manner
less constrained than on former similar occasions. “Get
good supper for ole Injin, young squaw — dat juss what
squaw good for.”

Margery laughingly promised to remember his injunction,
and went her way, closely attended by her lover. The
corporal followed, armed to the teeth, and keeping at just
such a distance from the young people, as might enable
them to converse without being overheard. As for the
missionary, he was detained a moment by Peter, the others
moving slowly, in order to permit him to come up, ere they
had gone their first mile. Of course, the mysterious chief
had not detained Parson A men without a motive.

“My brother has told me many curious things,” said
Peter, when alone with the missionary, and speaking now
in the language of the Ojebways — “many very curious
things. I like to listen to them. Once he told me how
the pale-face young men take their squaws.”

“I remember to have told you this. We ask the Great
Spirit to bless our marriages, and the ceremony is commonly
performed by a priest. This is our practice, Peter;
though not necessary, I think it good.”

“Yes; good alway for pale-face to do pale-face fashion,
and for Injin to do Injin fashion. Don't want medicine-man
to get red-skin squaw. Open wigwam door, and she
come in. Dat 'nough. If she don't wish to come in,
can't make her. Squaw go to warrior she likes; warrior
ask squaw he likes. But it is best for pale-face to take
his wife, in pale-face fashion. Does not my brother see a

young man of his people, and a young maiden, that he had
better bring together and bless?”

“You must mean Bourdon and Margery,” answered the
missionary, in English, after a moment's reflection. “The
idea is a new one to me; for my mind has been much occupied
of late, with other and more important matters;
though I now plainly see what you mean!”

“That flower of the Openings would soon fade, if the
young bee-hunter should leave it alone on the prairies.
This is the will of the Great Spirit. He puts it into the
minds of the young squaws to see all things well that the
hunters of their fancy do. Why he has made the young
with this kindness for each other, perhaps my brother
knows. He is wise, and has books. The poor Injins have
none. They can see only with the eyes they got from Injins,
like themselves. But one thing they know. What
the Great Spirit has commanded, is good. Injins can't
make it any better. They can do it harm, but they can do
it no good. Let my brother bless the couple that the Manitou
has brought together.”

“I believe I understand you, Peter, and will think of
this. And now that I must leave you for a little while, let
me beg you to think of this matter of the origin of your
tribes, candidly, and with care. Everything depends on
your people's not mistaking the truth, in this great matter.
It is as necessary for a nation to know its duties, as for a
single man. Promise me to think of this, Peter.”

“My brother's words have come into my ears—they are
good,” returned the Indian, courteously. “We will think
of them at the council, if my brother will bless his young
man and young maiden, according to the law of his people.”

“I will promise to do this, Peter; or to urge Bourdon
and Margery to do it, if you will promise to speak to-day,
in council, of the history of your forefathers, and to take
into consideration, once more, the great question of your
being Hebrews.”

“I will speak as my brother wishes — let him do as I
wish. Let him tell me that I can say to the chiefs before
the sun has fallen the length of my arm, that the young
pale-face bee-hunter has taken the young pale-face squaw
into his wigwam.”

“I do not understand your motive, Peter; but that which
you ask is wise, and according to God's law, and it shall
be done. Fare you well, then, for a season. When we
again meet, Bourdon and Margery shall be one, if my persuasions
can prevail, and you will have pressed this matter
of the lost tribes, again, home to your people. Fare you
well, Peter; fare you well.”

They separated; the Indian with a cold smile of courtesy,
but with his ruthless intentions as respected the missionary
in no degree changed. Boden and Margery alone
were exempt from vengeance, according to his present designs.
An unaccountable gentleness of feeling governed
him, as connected with the girl; while superstition, and
the dread of an unknown power, had its full influence on
his determination to spare her lover. There might be
some faint ray of human feeling glimmering among the
fierce fires that so steadily burned in the breast of this
savage; but they were so much eclipsed by the brighter
light that gleamed around them, as to be barely perceptible,
even to himself. The result of all these passions was, a
determination in Peter to spare those whom he had advised
the missionary to unite, making that union a mysterious
argument in favour of Margery, and to sacrifice all the
rest. The red American is so much accustomed to this
species of ruthless proceeding, that the anguish he might
occasion the very beings to whom he now wished to be
merciful, gave the stern chief very little concern. Leaving
the Indians in the exclusive possession of Prairie Round,
we will return to the rest of the party.

The missionary hastened after his friends as fast as he
could go. Boden and Margery had much to say to each
other in that walk, which had a great deal about it to bring
their thoughts within the circle of their own existence. As
has been said, the fire had run through that region late, and
the grasses were still young, offering but little impediment
to their movements. As the day was now near its heat, le
Bourdon led his spirited, but gentle companion, through
the groves, where they had the benefit of a most delicious
shade, a relief that was now getting to be very grateful.
Twice had they stopped to drink, at cool, clear springs, in
which the water seemed to vie with the air in transparency.

As this is not the general character of the water of that
region, though marked exceptions exist, Margery insisted
that the water was eastern and not western water.

“Why do we always think the things we had in childhood
better than those we enjoy afterwards?” asked Margery,
after making one of these comparisons, somewhat to
the disadvantage of the part of the country in which she
then was. “I can scarce ever think of home—what I call
home, and which was so long a home to me—without shedding
tears. Nothing here seems as good of its kind as
what I have left behind me. Do you have the same longings
for Pennsylvania, that I feel for the sea-coast and for
the rocks about Quincy?”

“Sometimes. When I have been quite alone for two or
three months, I have fancied that an apple, or a potato, or
even a glass of the cider that came from the spot where I
was born, would be sweeter than all the honey, bees ever
gathered in Michigan.”

“To me it has always seemed strange, Bourdon, that
one of your kind feelings should ever wish to live alone, at
all; yet I have heard you say that a love of solitude first
drew you to your trade.”

“It is these strong cases which get a man under, as it
might be, and almost alter his nature. One man will pass
his days in hunting deer; another in catching fish: my
taste has been for the bees, and for such chances with other
creatures as may offer. What between hunting, and hiving,
and getting the honey to market, I have very little time to
long for company. But my taste is altering, Margery; has altered.”

The girl blushed; but she also smiled, and, moreover,
she looked pleased.

“I am afraid that you are not as much altered as you
think,” she answered, laughingly, however. “It may seem
so now; but when you come to live in the settlements,
again, you will get tired of crowds.”

“Then I will come with you, Margery, into these Openings,
and we can live together here, surely, as well, or far
better than I can live here alone. You and Gershom's
wife have spoiled my housekeeping. I really did not know

until you came up here, how much a woman can do in a
chienté!”

“Why, Bourdon, you have lived long enough in the settlements
to know that?”

“That is true; but I look upon the settlements as one
thing, and on the Openings as another. What will do
there isn't needed here; and what will do here won't answer
there. But these last few days have so changed Castle
Meal, that I hardly know it myself.”

“Perhaps the change is for the worse, and you wish it
undone, Bourdon,” observed the girl, in the longing she
had to hear an assurance to the contrary, at the very moment
she felt certain that assurance would be given.

“No, no, Margery. Woman has taken possession of
my cabin, and woman shall now always command there,
unless you alter your mind, and refuse to have me. I shall
speak to the missionary to marry us, as soon as I can get
him alone. His mind is running so much on the Jews,
that he has hardly a moment left for us Christians.”

The colour on Margery's cheek was not lessened by this
declaration; though, to admit the truth, she looked none
the less pleased. She was a warm-hearted and generous
girl, and sometimes hesitated about separating herself and
her fortunes from those of Gershom and Dorothy; but the
bee-hunter had persuaded her this would be unnecessary,
though she did accept him for a husband. The point had
been settled between them on previous occasions, and much
conversation had already passed, in that very walk, which
was confined to that interesting subject. But Margery was
not now disposed to say more, and she adroitly improved
the hint thrown out by Boden, to change the discourse.

“It is the strangest notion I ever heard of,” she cried,
laughing, “to believe Injins to be Jews!”

“He tells me he is by no means the first who has fancied
it. Many writers have said as much before him, and all
he claims is, to have been among them, and to have seen
these Hebrews with his own eyes. But here he comes, and
can answer for himself.”

Just as this was said, Parson Amen joined the party,
Corporal Flint closing to the front, as delicacy no longer
required him to act as a rear-guard. The good missionary

came up a little heated; and, in order that he might have
time to cool himself, the rate of movement was slightly reduced.
In the mean time the conversation did not the less
proceed.

“We were talking of the lost tribes,” said Margery,
half smiling as she spoke, “and of your idea, Mr. Amen,
that these Injins are Jews. It seems strange to me that
they should have lost so much of their ancient ways, and
notions, and appearances, if they are really the people you
think.”

“Lost! It is rather wonderful that, after the lapse of
two thousand years and more, so much should remain.
Whichever way I look, signs of these people's origin beset
me. You have read your Bible, Margery—which I am
sorry to say all on this frontier have not—but you have read
your Bible, and one can make an allusion to you with some
satisfaction. Now, let me ask you if you remember such
a thing as the scape-goat of the ancient Jews. It is to be
found in Leviticus, and is one of those mysterious customs
with which that extraordinary book is full.”

“Leviticus is a book I never read but once, for we do
not read it in our New England schools. But I do remember
that the Jews were commanded to let one of two
goats go, from which practice it has, I believe, been called
a scape-goat.”

“Well,” said le Bourdon, simply, “what a thing is
`l'arnin!' Now, this is all news to me, though I have
heard of `scape-goats,' and talked of `scape-goats' a thousand
times! There's a meanin' to everything, I find; and
I do not look upon this idee of the lost tribes as half as
strange as I did before I l'arnt this!”

Margery had not fallen in love with the bee-hunter for
his biblical knowledge, else might her greater information
have received a rude shock by this mark of simplicity; but
instead of dwelling on this proof of le Bourdon's want of
“schooling,” her active mind was more disposed to push
the allusion to scape-goats to some useful conclusion.

“And what of the goat, Mr. Amen?” she asked; “and
how can it belong to anything here?”

“Why were all those goats turned into the woods and
deserts, in the olden time, Margery? Doubtless to provide

food for the ten tribes, when these should be driven forth
by conquerors and hard task-masters. Time, and climate,
and a difference of food, has altered them, as they have
changed the Jews, themselves, though they still retain the
cleft hoof, the horns, the habits, and the general characteristics
of the goats of Arabia. Yes; naturalists will find in
the end, that the varieties of the deer of this continent,
particularly the antelope, are nothing but the scape-goats
of the ancient world, altered, and perhaps improved by
circumstances.”

As this was much the highest flight the good missionary
had ever yet taken, not trifling was the astonishment of his
young friends, thereat. Touching the Jews, le Bourdon
did not pretend to, or in fact did not possess much knowledge:
but, when the question was reduced down to one
of venison, or bears' meat, or bisons' humps, with the exception
of the professed hunters and trappers, few knew
more about them all than he did himself. That the deer,
or even the antelopes of America ever had been goats, he
did not believe; nor was he at all backward in letting his
dissent to such a theory be known.

“I'm sorry, Parson Amen, you've brought in the deer,”
he cried. “Had you stuck to the Jews, I might have believed
all that you fancy, in this business; but the deer
have spoiled all. As for scape-goats, since Margery seems
to agree with you, I suppose you are right about them,
though my notion of such creatures has been to keep clear
of them, instead of following them up, as you seem to think
these Hebrews have done. But if you are no nearer right
in your doctrine about the Injins, than you are about their
game, you'll have to change your religion.”

“Do not think that my religion depends on any thread
so slight, Bourdon. A man may be mistaken in interpreting
prophecy, and still be a devout Christian. There are
more reasons than you may at first suppose, for believing
in this theory of the gradual change of the goat into the
deer, and especially into the antelope. We do not any of
us believe that Noah had with him, in the ark, all the animals
that are now to be found, but merely the parent-stems,
in each particular case, which would be reducing the

number many fold. If all men came from Adam, Bourdon,
who could not all deer come from goats?”

“Why, this matter about men has a good deal puzzled
me, Parson, and I hardly know what answer to give. Still,
men are men, wherever you find them. They may be
lighter or darker, taller or shorter, with hair or wool, and
yet you can see they are men. Perhaps food, and climate,
and manner of living, may have made all the changes we
see in them; but Lord, Parson, a goat has a beard!”

“What has become of the thousands of scape-goats that
the ancient Hebrews must have turned loose in the wilderness?
Answer me that, Bourdon?”

“You might as well ask me, sir, what has become of the
thousands of Hebrews who turned them loose. I suppose
all must be dead a thousand years ago. Scape-goats are
creatures that even Injins would not like.”

“All this is a great mystery, Bourdon—a much greater
mystery than our friend Peter, whom you have so often
said was a man so unaccountable. By the way, he has
given me a charge to perform an office between you and
Margery, that I had almost forgotten. From what he said
to me, I rather think it may have some connection with
our safety. We have enemies among these savages, I feel
very certain; though I believe we have also warm friends.”

“But what have you in charge that has anything to do
with Bourdon and me?” asked the wondering Margery;
who was quick to observe the connection, though utterly at
a loss to comprehend it.

The missionary now called a halt, and finding convenient
seats, he gradually opened the subject with which he
had been charged by Peter, to his companions. The reader
is probably prepared to learn that there was no longer any
reserve between le Bourdon and Margery, on the subject
of their future marriage. The young man had already
pressed an immediate union, as the wisest and safest course
to be pursued. Although the savage American is little
addicted to abusing his power over female captives, and
seldom takes into his lodge an unwilling squaw, the bee-hunter
had experienced a good deal of uneasiness on the
score of what might befall his betrothed. Margery was
sufficiently beautiful to attract attention, even in a town;

and more than one fierce-looking warrior had betrayed his
admiration that very day, though it was in a very Indian-like
fashion. Rhapsody, and gallant speeches, and sonnets,
form no part of Indian courtship; but the language of admiration
is so very universal, through the eyes, that it is
sufficiently easy of comprehension. It was possible that
some chief, whose band was too formidable to be opposed,
might take it into his head to wish to see a pale-face squaw
in his wigwam; and, while it was not usual to do much
violence to a female's inclinations on such occasions, it was
not common to offer much opposition to those of a powerful
warrior. The married tie, if it could be said to exist at
all, however, was much respected; and it was far less likely
that Margery, a wife, would thus be appropriated, than
Margery, unmarried. It is true, cases of an unscrupulous
exercise of power are to be found among Indians, as well
as among civilized men, but they are rare, and usually are
much condemned.

The bee-hunter, consequently, was well disposed to
second Peter's project. As for Margery herself, she had
half yielded all her objections to her lover's unaided arguments,
and was partly conquered before this reinforcement
was brought into the field against her. Peter's motive was
much canvassed, no one of them all being able to penetrate
it. Boden, however, had his private opinion on the subject,
nor was it so very much out of the way. He fancied
that the mysterious chief was well disposed to Margery,
and wished to put her as far as possible beyond the chances
of an Indian wigwam: marriage being the step of all others
most likely to afford her this protection. Now this was not
exactly true, but it was right enough in the main. Peter's
aim was to save the life of the girl; her gentle attractions,
and kind attentions to himself having wrought this much
in her favour; and he believed no means of doing so, as
certain as forming a close connection for her with the great
medicine bee-hunter. Judging of them by himself, he did
not think the Indians would dare to include so great a
conjurer in their schemes of vengeance, and was willing
himself that le Bourdon should escape, provided Margery
could go free and unharmed with him. As for the bee-hunter's
powers, he had many misgivings; they might be

dangerous to the red men, and they might not. On this
subject, he was in the painful doubts of ignorance, and had
the wide area of conjecture open before his mind. He
saw; but it was “as in a glass, darkly.”

Margery was disposed to delay the ceremony, at least
until her brother and sister might be present. But to this
le Bourdon himself was not much inclined. It had struck
him that Gershom was opposed to an early marriage, most
probably because he fancied himself more secure of the
bee-hunter's ingenious and important aid in getting back
to the settlements, so long as this strong inducement existed
to cling to himself, than if he should release his own hold
of Margery, by giving her at once to her lover. Right or
wrong, such was the impression taken up by le Bourdon,
and he was glad when the missionary urged his request to
be permitted to pronounce the nuptial benediction on the
spot.

Little ceremony is generally used in an American marriage.
In a vast many cases no clergyman is employed at
all; and where there is, most of the sects have no ring, no
giving away, nor any of those observances which were practised
in the churches of old. There existed no impediment,
therefore; and, after a decent interval spent in persuasions,
Margery consented to plight her vows to the man of her
heart before they left the spot. She would fain have had
Dorothy present, for woman loves to lean on her own sex
on such occasions, but submitted to the necessity of proceeding
at once, as the bee-hunter and the missionary chose
to term it.

A better altar could not have been selected in all that
vast region. It was one of nature's own erecting; and le
Bourdon and his pretty bride placed themselves before it,
with feelings suited to the solemnity of the occasion. The
good missionary stood within the shade of a burr oak,
in the centre of those park-like Openings, every object
looking fresh, and smiling, and beautiful. The sward was
green, and short as that of a well-tended lawn; the flowers
were, like the bride herself, soft, modest, and sweet; while
charming rural vistas stretched through the trees, much as
if art had been summoned in aid of the great mistress who
had designed the landscape. When the parties knelt in

prayer, which all present did, not excepting the worthy
corporal, it was on the verdant ground, with first the
branches of the trees, and then the deep, fathomless vault
of heaven for a canopy. In this manner was the marriage
benediction pronounced on the bee-hunter and Margery
Waring, in the venerable Oak Openings. No Gothic structure, with its fretted aisles and clustered columns,
could have been one half as appropriate for the union of
such a couple.