University of Virginia Library

THE FINDING.

13. CHAPTER XIII.

Years had passed since Mrs C. parted with her nearest
relatives and among these her mother. We were naturally
in haste then to leave Brushwood in the morning. Glenville
being only two miles distant. What was thought of us at
Brushwood could now be only conjectured; but we learned
afterwards, that the screen made by Mrs. C. was deemed
“powerful proud doings of stuck-up folks.” And sorry
am I to say that in the Purchase, as in some other places,
such opinion is formed and similarly expressed about extra
cleanliness, decency, modesty, learning, and the like: if
these things exceed your neighbour's, they subject you to
suspicion, often to dislike, and not infrequently to rancorous
persecution. Perhaps the thoughts about you in a
New Purchase are boldly uttered, yet still, in an Old
Purchase, scorn, envy, hatred, are felt for your real or
supposed excellences, and acted out at the first fair opportunities.
However, Mr. Carlton himself got so far rubbed
down in time as to need considerable rubbing up afterwards;
for he at last, in the Purchase, earned the appellation of
a—“most powerful clever feller, what could lay down
ahind an ole-log and hide raw bakin like the best on 'em—
as naturally, too, as if brung up to it.”

Receiving very straight directions for a very crooked
path, we set out for Home! The path was rarely ever
travelled by wheels and indeed unblazed; and hence we
proceeded partly by instinct and partly by trace of ruts seen

usually by the eye, but often felt after by the feet—one of
us always walking before the dearborne, while the other
drove. This path I had always great difficulty in finding.
And once the whole Glenville community nearly, having
to deviate from its direction on account of high waters,
were actually lost in the bottom for three long hours! To
imprint the affair more deeply we met, too, an accident at
that time. Endeavouring then to drive along a slippery
and very steep inclination, away suddenly pitched horse
and wagon, and away also Mr. and Mrs. Carlton, and one
young lady, and two little babies, all in an indescribable
and mixed succession of somersets, down into the ravine;
and yet, strange to tell! no one was hurt, nothing important
broken, although when about half way to the bottom
of the hill, the vehicle was caught by sapling and bush,
the wagon there sticking, wheels uppermost and the horse
on his back with the whole four legs turning their shod
hoofs into thin air instead of thick earth! What it was, in
such a false position, I cannot tell; but so did the two
dumb things look, so patient, so resigned, appealing so
touchingly with outstretched limbs for help, that it was long
before laughter would permit Mr. Glenville and myself to
restore wheels and legs to the order of nature. And when
restored to a proper standing in society, never surely did
horse and wagon move with more unanimity!—never did a
horse before so snort, so toss his head, so shake mane and
tail, till by practising all parts of his body he was convinced
it was only a very curious dream, just passed, and he was
truly himself again! Consequently after that I preferred
the better path by Sam Little's clearing and the Indian
grave. But on the present morning of the Finding, Brushwood
had directed us “the short cut” to Glenville Settlement.

The reader will of course conjecture what happened to
novices—we lost our way. What with turning aside for

logs un-straddleable, brush impenetrable, briars intolerable,
and for holes we cared not to fathom, we made the short
path considerably longer than the long one, till all at once
on clambering up a steep hill, farther progress was barred
by a lofty and tortuous fence, worming around a clearing! At
the unwonted noise of cracking brush and bush in this quarter,
soon, however, came forth from a good log-house in the
centre, an almost gigantic yet venerable old gentleman,
who, to our great surprise, said he was—the Mr. Sturgis—
i. e. “ole-man Sturgis—fornence” the tannery in the very
suburbs of Glenville! Very near! Reader!

After helplng to extricate and get our carriage in front of
his settlement, the old man advised, that, instead of now
going away round by a very obscure path, we had better
proceed right down the hill in the direction of the tan-house:
especially as to drive down the hill would, after
all, be not much worse, than the way up the hill just
come.

Accordingly we prepared to alight in Glenville: not
indeed by flying, but by slipping and sliding down on
them from our sylvan summit. And this was accomplished
as follows:—our historian and his lady advanced in pedibus—(Latin
is more ancient than French,)—or more vulgarly,
on foot, some yards before the wagon; then the
author judiciously presented one side towards the bottom of
the declivity, and the other towards its top; and then the
author's wife did ditto's; after which her lower hand in
his upper, the happy couple commenced the glide in that
picturesque attitude and series of linked cadences, he with
his dextral and unimpeded hand retarding the velocity,
when becoming perilous, by seizing, at suitable intervals,
bushes and saplings, until, without accident, Mr. and Mrs.
Carlton had almost alighted on the border of a delightful
and pellucid little creek. While above, the driver, on foot
too, and holding his horse near the bit of the bridle, and his

wagon, were tearing and crashing and thundering down,
the man partly on his knees, and the horse in a sitting posture
like a pet-dog at dinner-time, till all seemed like an
avalanche of horses and wagons from the clouds—or at
least, in western parlance, “a right smart sprinkle” of the
articles. At all events, the unwonted uproar and shouts,
and voices and merriment, had announced that some wonder
was raining down on the settlement—and hence, they
rushed from the tannery to see what was descending—lo!
dear reader—we, Mr. and Mrs. Carlton, now ended our
descent by gliding into the open arms of uncle John Seymour
and his nephew John Glenville! And was not that
stumbling upon luck?

—Did you ever go away off, when travelling was the
work of months—away off, a thousand miles, in search of
the nearest and dearest kindred—and then, unexpectedly,
on a bright and fragrant May morning, find those dear ones
in the dark depths of an almost impervious wilderness?
Then did, at that moment, thoughts of the past—happiness
—homes—comforts—ay! of a thousand nameless past things
rush like a torrent to your heart—then you know how we
—met and rejoiced—and wept! How we crossed the
creek I never knew—all were shaking hands right and left
—some asking questions—some answering—some sobbing
—and how could one see with eyes full of tears?—But still
I do believe we were both hugged over!

—But see! all Glenville is coming—and the daughter
is once more upon the bosom of her mother!—yet the voice
of weeping are not tears of lamentation—they are tears
of joy!

That morning thanksgiving prayers went up to heaven
from three households united, and hymns of praise resounded
amid the wilds: for these families were Christian—and

wherever, in their many wanderings, they halted
as pilgrims for a day or a year, there rose the domestic
altars.

God is every where!