The Harpe's head a legend of Kentucky |
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 | CHAPTER III. The Harpe's head |  |
3. CHAPTER III.
Immediately opposite the spot at which our party was
assembled, the river rushed over a series of rocky ledges
intersected by numberless fissures, affording channels to
the water, which at the same time foamed and dashed
over the rocks. A number of the youth were amusing
themselves in navigating these ripples with canoes. By
keeping the channels, they could pass in safety down
the rapids, but it required the greatest skill to avoid the
rocks, and to steer the boat along the serpentine and
sometimes angular passes, by which alone it could be
brought in safety through the ripples. Sometimes a
canoe, missing its course, shot off into a pool or eddy,
where the still water afforded a secure harbor; but if it
happened to touch a rock, in the rapid descent, inevitable
in this adventurous entertainment soon became numerous;
several of the young ladies, who loved sport too
well, or feared the water too little, to be deterred by the
danger of a wetting, engaged in it; so that some of the
canoes were seen to contain, besides the steersman, a
single female, for these frail vessels were only intended
for two persons.
They first pushed their canoes up the stream with
poles, keeping close to the shore, where the current flowed
with little rapidity, until they reached the head of the
ripple; then taking their paddles they shot out into the
stream, guided their boats into the channels, darting
down with the velocity of an arrow, sometimes concealed
among the rocks, and sometimes hidden by the foam,
and in a few minutes were seen gliding out over the
smooth water below, having passed for nearly a mile
through this dangerous navigation. Sometimes they
purposely forsook the channel, and showed their skill by
turning suddenly into the eddies on either side, where
they would wait until the next boat passed, and dart
after it in eager chase. Dangerous as this amusement
appeared, there was in fact little to be apprehended; for
the upsetting of a canoe, which seldom occurred, would
throw the passengers into shallow water or lodge them
against a rock, with no other injury than a wetting, or
perhaps a slight bruise.
Fennimore, who had walked with Miss Pendleton to
the shore, and watched the canoes for some time, proposed
to her to join the party.
“Can you manage a canoe?” inquired she, hesitating.
“Try me,” said he, gaily. “I would surely not venture
to take so precious a charge, without some confidence
in my skill. I have been a western ranger for
several years, and am quite familiar with the use of the
paddle.”
Virginia stepped into the canoe, and having seated
herself in the prow, while Fennimore took possession of
the stern, exclaimed,
“A ranger! I am surprised, Mr. Fennimore; why,
you do not look like a ranger!”
“Am I at liberty to consider that doubt as a compliment?”
“Oh no—I do not pay compliments. But I always
thought that a ranger was a great rough man, with a
blanket round his shoulders, a tomahawk at his belt, and
a rifle in his hand.”
“Such indeed is a part of the equipment of the backwoods
soldier; and believe me, Miss Pendleton, many
of the most gallant men of this day have earned their
laurels in such a dress.”
“Oh, terrible! you will destroy some of my finest
associations. I never think of a hero, without fancying
him a tall elegant man in dashing regimentals, with a
rich sword-knot, and a pair of remarkably handsome
epaulets.”
“Add to your picture a powdered head, a long queue,
a stiff form, and measured tread, and you have the
beau-ideal of a soldier of the school of Baron Steuben.”
“Say not a word against that school, Mr. Fennimore:
have become of our country, had it not been for those
fine old generals, who trained our soldiers to war in the
late revolution, and who were models of that neatness
and military etiquette, which I am afraid you undervalue.
We have a dear old gentleman here, whom
you will see at dinner, and who is an excellent specimen
of by-gone times.”
“Who is he?”
“General Armour, one of our revolutionary veterans,
a most excellent man, but one who seems to think that
the highest degree of human excellence consists in looking
and acting like a soldier. He continues to wear his
three-cornered hat, his buff waistcoat, and his blue regimental
coat turned up with red, and would rather part
with his estate than with his black cockade.”
“I honor such men,” said Fennimore, “but see, here
we are at the head of the rapids.”
Fennimore paddled his light canoe over the smooth
water above the rapids, advancing towards the reefs and
then retiring, describing circles with his little vessel, as
if to try his skill before he ventured among the breakers.
He was evidently quite familiar with this exercise;
and Virginia, as she beheld with admiration the strength
and dexterity with which he handled the paddle, felt no
longer the slightest timidity, but enjoyed the exciting
sport.
“Let me now acknowledge freely,” said Fennimore
as he cast his eye over the ripple, “that I am unwilling
to attempt a dangerous navigation, which is new to me,
with so valuable a charge.”
Virginia smiled; “I have often passed these rocks,”
said she, “and feel no fear; but if you have the slightest
desire to return, let us do so.”
The stranger hesitated; his prudence restraining him,
while the natural ambition which a young man feels in
the presence of a lady, urged him on, until Miss Pendleton
relieved him by saying, “Let us run no risks, Mr.
Fennimore. I should not relish a wetting; and I am in
fault for not telling you sooner, that it would be difficult,
if not impossible, for you to pass through the rapids
without knowing the channel.”
At this moment a canoe darted past them, containing
a young lady and a gentleman. Both were laughing;
and the young man, proud of his skill, in attempting to
flourish his paddle round his head, as a kind of salute to
Miss Pendleton, unluckily threw it from his hand. An
exclamation of affright arose from both parties; for the
canoe was rapidly approaching the breakers, while the
steersman had no means of directing its course.
“Shall I follow?” cried Fennimore.
“By all means,” exclaimed his companion; and in a
moment he was rapidly pursuing the drifting canoe.
The latter kept its course for a little while, then swinging
round, floated with the broadside to the current,
rising and sinking with an unsteady motion, now striking
one end against a rock, and whirling round, and now the
other, and sometimes darting head-foremost through the
spray. Fennimore pressed on with admirable skill,
urging his canoe forward with all his strength, to overtake
them, and guiding it with unerring sagacity. He had
nearly reached the object of his pursuit, when it struck a
the deepest part of the channel.
“Keep your seat, Mr. Fennimore! guide the canoe!”
exclaimed Virginia rapidly, as with admirable presence
of mind, she rose from her seat, kneeled in the boat, and
leaning forward caught the floating lady by the arm,
while Fennimore at the same instant, by a powerful exertion,
threw the canoe into an eddy where the waters
were still. The whole was the work of an instant; but
it was witnessed from the shore, and a burst of applause
excited by the presence of mind shown by Fennimore
and Miss Pendleton. The dripping lady was drawn into
the boat; the drooping gentleman, who had crawled on
a rock, was taken in as a passenger; and, when they
reached the shore, it would have been difficult to guess
that any of the laughing party had met with a disaster.
They were greeted with a hundred merry voices as they
ascended the bank, and Mr. Fennimore forgot, in the
lively scene, that he was a stranger.
It was now nearly noon, when the arrival of a hunting
party that had gone out at day-break, attracted universal
attention. At its head rode an elderly man of
large frame, whose face was browned by many a summer's
sun. He wore a suit of plain home-spun, a handkerchief
was bound closely round his head instead of a
hat, and his legs from a little above the knee downward
were wrapped in buck-skin, to protect them from the
briers, in riding rapidly through the forest. Under one
arm hung a large powder-horn, on the other side was
suspended a square pouch; and a broad leathern belt,
buckled closely round him, kept his dress and accoutrements
trophy of the morning's chase, was thrown across the
horse, behind the saddle, and bound to the rider's back,
with the head and feet dangling on either side against
the flanks of the steed. After him came a dozen hunters,
mostly young men, variously equipped, some in gay
hunting-shirts, with elegant rifles, and others in the
plainer garb of ordinary woodsmen. Among them, they
brought several deer of a smaller size, and a variety of
wild-turkeys, and smaller game.
“What a fine buck!” exclaimed several voices.
“Ah, Colonel Antler, you always carry the day!”
“And so he should,” said General Armour, “the veterans
should set good examples to the new recruits. I
congratulate you, my old friend.”
“True enough,” replied the hunter, “we ought to
lead the young fellows; but, to tell the truth, I have trained
these lads until some of them know almost as much
as myself.”
A loud laugh from the hunters followed this speech.
“Come,” said General Armour, “do us the favor to
make your report; tell us how the buck was taken, before
you alight.”
“Hard duty, that,” replied the leading hunter, “for I
am as dry as a powder-horn. But the story is very
short. We had agreed to drive. I had seen large
tracks about the Cold Spring, up in the North Hollow,
lately, for several mornings in succession, and I knew
that a big buck haunted about there. We determined to
surround him, and accordingly stationed ourselves at
different points. I placed myself behind a large tree on
to start the game, and presently I saw this fine fellow
stealing along at an easy gallop, treading as gently as a
cat, and leaping over the logs so lightly as hardly to
crush a leaf. There was a light breeze from the south,
and some of the young men had gone up in that direction,
expecting that he would run with his nose to the
wind—and so he did, until he scented them, when he
suddenly turned towards the place where I stood. I
knew exactly where he would stop, and remained perfectly
still. On he came at an easy lope, until he reached
the top of a little knoll about sixty yards from me.
There he halted, wheeled round, and stood perfectly still,
with one fore-foot raised, the ear thrown forward, and
his eye flashing—listening and snuffing the breeze. I
fired, and down he fell. In a moment he rose and dashed
off; but I knew I had saved him, dropped the but of
my rifle, and began to load. A hunter, general, should
never quit the spot from which he fires, until he loads
up again.”
“That's right, Colonel, on military principles.”
“I know it to be right, on hunting principles.”
“It is mathematically and morally right,” replied
the veteran; “military rules are all founded on the
immutable basis of truth—but I beg pardon; proceed,
sir.”
“The company all knew the crack of my rifle, and
came galloping up, the dogs took the trail of the blood,
and away they all went in chase, as hard as their horses
could carry them. I mounted, rode quietly over the
hill, and fell in ahead of them, just as the buck had
slipped in between me and the game, but without seeing
me. Charles Cleaveland had raised his gun to his face,
and my nephew Will, the rogue, was taking aim, when
I said, `boys!' They both looked round, and at the
same moment my bullet whistled between them, and
knocked over the buck.”
“Bravo!” cried several voices.
“That was not fair, uncle,” cried Miss Pendleton;
“you outwitted the other gentlemen by your superior
knowledge of the woods.”
“Hey? Cousin Virginia; not fair! Why what's the
use of an old hunter's experience, but to outwit the
bucks—the old bucks of the woods, and the young
bucks of the settlements.”
“I have done, uncle,” replied Virginia, laughing.
“Well, here's one who has nothing to complain of—
George Lee; he found a fat yearling doe on the pine
ridge, and brought her off. Henry Mountfort has another,
and the rest of them have shot small game.”
The party now alighted, and the servants were soon
employed in preparing the game for dinner.
A long table was now spread under the trees, and
loaded with an abundant, and not inelegant repast.
Venison, poultry, hams, and rounds of beef, cooked on
the ground, sent up their savory vapors, while numberless
huge baskets of cold viands, consisting of pullets,
tongues, bread, cakes, and pastry, supplied that variety
and profusion of eatables, which are supposed to have
characterized the hospitality of our worthy grandmothers.
The company took their seats with great decorum,
for a general onset, like the breaking ground of a
besieging army, advanced with system, and with a due
attention to all the little details customarily observed on
such solemn occasions. But as the scene became more
lively, good things were said, and eaten, with a rapidity
that would have defied the skill of even a modern
reporter; and amidst the Babel of voices, a few only
of the most prominent speakers could be occasionally
heard.
“I'll trouble you, General Armour, for a slice of that
venison,—take it rare, if you please,—pardon me for
interrupting you—”
“I was about to remark, that when General Washington
determined to cut off the supply of provisions
from Philadelphia—”
“Bad business that—cutting off provisions,” remarked
the venison-eater.
“General, a morsel of the fat, if you please.”
“—When General Washington in '77 determined—”
“Allow me to recommend this fish, General.”
“I am very well helped—determined to cut
off—”
“Did you say fish, madam? With great pleasure.
Let me add some of this butter, and a glass of wine.
My father, madam, who was a very facetious old gentleman—”
“He detached six hundred militia over the Schuylkill,
under General Potter—”
“Quite a wit; I knew him well.”
“He intercepted their foraging parties, as directed by
the commander-in-chief—”
“—Was very fond of fish, madam.”
“Who, General Washington?”
“No, sir, my late father. He used to say that fish
should swim three times—”
“On the roads leading to Chester, Lancaster, and—”
“Three times, madam; first in the water, then in
butter, and then in wine.”
“General Washington remarking that—”
“—Dancing was a popular amusement—”
“—Gave strict orders—”
“The fiddlers should be kept sober.”
“What did you say about the tender passion, madam?”
“General Knox—”
“—Who played the first fiddle—”
“—Wrote the Essay on Man—”
“—Between sun-set and roll-call—”
“—So the leather affairs were sent to General
Lee—”
“—A very pathetic story—”
“—Told in Hume's England.”
“—For my father, you know, ma'am, was a witty
man.”
Buzz! buzz! buzz! all became a confused clatter, which
continued until the cloth was removed, and the ladies
retired. A separation of the three estates now took
place;—the elder gentlemen remained at the table,
the matronly portion of the females betook themselves
to the surrounding seats, and the youthful part of the
assembly arranged themselves in sets for dancing. Mr.
was emphatically the Belle; and her title to this distinction
became more evident, when the younger part
of the company, relieved from the presence of their
seniors, were enabled to act out their own characters
more freely. The young ladies evidently yielded to her
the precedence, and the gentlemen were emulous in
paying her attention. As the acknowledged heiress of
Major Heyward, her expectations, in point of fortune,
were of the brightest character, and in beauty she had no
superior; while her vigorous understanding, the decision
of her mind, and the playfulness of her conversation,
threw an air of freshness and originality around her, as
rare as it was captivating. Among her constant admirers,
the most devoted was George Lee, a young
gentleman, whose fine person was only equalled by the
utter imbecility of his mind. He was tall, stout, well
built, and easy in his deportment. His features, taken
singly, were manly and handsome; but his face, as a
whole, had not the slightest expression of any thing
but good-nature. Amiable, kind, generous to prodigality,
and simple as a child, there never lived a more artless,
a better tempered, or a weaker man. His fine appearance,
and gentlemanly deportment, never failed to earn
him respect, on a first acquaintance; and the goodness
of his heart rendered him a general favorite among
those who had known him long.
“Will you dance with me, cousin Virginia?” said he,
as soon as he could plant himself at her side.
“I have almost promised not to dance to-day.”
“But with me: I know you will dance with me. I
have been trying all day to get to speak to you.”
“I am glad you were so much better employed.”
“No, that was not the reason; but you are always
so surrounded. You know that I would rather talk to
you than do any thing else in the world.”
“Do not talk so, cousin George.”
“Why not? You know I think so. I am not ashamed
of it. You know that I have always told you so. But
you do not know the half that I feel—”
“I will dance with you, Mr. Lee,” said Miss Pendleton,
willing to interrupt his silly courtship.
“Thank you, but don't call me Mr. Lee—you know
I can't bear that;” and away they tripped.
The company separated at an early hour; and Mr.
Fennimore was not displeased at having shared the festivities
of this agreeable day, or at being destined to
pass another night under the hospitable roof of Major
Heyward.
| CHAPTER III. The Harpe's head | |