University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.
MARGARET SUCCESSFUL IN A NOVEL ADVENTURE.

A few days afterwards, there came to the Widow Wright's
Mr. Palmer from the Ledge, the man who found Margaret
in the woods and delivered her to his wife. He purchased
of the Widow a prescription for his daughter Rhody,
who he said was not in strong health, and then stated that his
family had been troubled for want of water, and intimated a
conjecture of his wife that Margaret was one in whom resided
the faculty of discovering it, and asked the Widow if she
would accompany him to Pluck's, and aid in procuring the

services of the child for the purpose indicated. They went
to Margaret's house, where Mr. Palmer gained the consent of
the family to his object, and especially that of Nimrod, who
evinced a positive delight in the project, and even volunteered
to be Margaret's gallant on the occasion. They all proceeded
together, accompanied by the Widow, who suggested that her
personal attention might be of some benefit to Rhody. The
Ledge was six or seven miles from the Pond; it was properly
speaking a marble quarry, and belonged to Mr. Palmer, who
with his sons, in addition to a large farm they cultivated,
sometimes worked at gravestones and hearths.

Mr. Palmer was in popular phrase a forehanded man, his
house and barns were large, and his grounds indicated thrift.
He had three sons, Roderick, Alexander and Rufus, stout,
vigorous boys; and one daughter Rhody about eighteen, who
evinced a sickly temperament, but was otherwise a fair-looking,
black-haired girl. This family were obliged to bring their
water from a considerable distance, not having been able to
find a spring near the house. Agreeable to the doctrines of
rhabdomancy, formerly in vogue, and at the present moment
not entirely discarded, a twig, usually of the witchhazle, borne
over the surface of the ground, indicates the presence of
water, by immediately moving in the hand. The number of
persons would seem to be small in whom this power is lodged,
or through whom the phenomenon exhibits itself. It appeared
that the neighborhood had been canvassed for an operator, but
none succeeded. It occurred to Mistress Palmer, at the Camp,
that Margaret might be endowed with this rare gift, and the
child was accordingly sent for. The family at the Ledge
showed great joy on the arrival of the party from the Pond.
Mistress Palmer took a pinch of snuff, and helped Margaret
from the horse, and even received Nimrod kindly, although
his pranks at the meeting might have operated to his prejudice.
The large pewter tankard of cider was passed round,
but Margaret refused to taste, saying she should prefer water.
“Dear me! we han't got a drop of decent water in the
house,” exclaimed Mistress Palmer. “The gal shall have
some milk, the best we have; Rhody get some of the morning's;
pour it out cream and all.” Of this Margaret drank
freely. “Poor thing!” ejaculated the lady, “she don't know
as she has got a soul, and our Rufus is nigh as bad, for he
won't do nothing to save his.”

“I tell you what it is, Marm,” rejoined Rufus, her youngest
son, about twelve or fourteen years of age; “I an't a going

to have that old preacher whining and poking about me. I
believe I can get to heaven without his help; if I can't, then I
am willing to stay away.”

“Well, well, child,” replied the mother, “I shall not care
how, if you get there at all, only I want you to be a good
boy.” She took a large pinch of snuff. These preliminaries
being settled, and Margaret having received her instructions
to hold the stick firmly and tell when it moved, proceeded on
her duty. She made sundry gyrations, she traversed the
grounds about the house, she tried the garden, but effected
nothing. “It is too wet,” said one; “it is too cold,” said a
second; “it is too dry,” said a third; “it is too warm,” said
a fourth. Mistress Palmer took a pinch of snuff. Another
trial was proposed. The child went farther from the house,
she perambulated the orchard. All looked on with a breathless
interest; she moved about slowly and carefully, the stick
held horizontally forward in her two fists — a little diviner,
in a green rush hat and Indian moccasins; the wind shook
her brown curls, her blue checked pinafore streamed off like a
pennon. Did they do wrong to use a little creature so? Yet
is not God useful? Is not Utility the sister of Beauty? At
last she cried out that it moved. Mr. Palmer hastened forward
and struck his spade into the spot; Margaret ran off.
The boys came up with hoes, crows and shovels, and began
to dig. Presently there were signs of water, then it bubbled
up, then it gushed forth a clear limpid stream. Mr. Palmer
praised God. The boys hooraed. Mistress Palmer took a
pinch of snuff.

“Taste on't, Alek,” said Rufus.

“No,” replied the father. “It belongs to the finder to be
the first taster. The gal, where is she?”

Rufus was despatched for Margaret. He found her at the
quarry trying to get a hare-bell that grew far above her head.
The boy crouched under her, and she stepping on his
shoulders succeeded in reaching the flower. When she would
have descended Rufus fastened his arms about her, and bore
her off on his back, papoose-like. Approaching the spot
where the water was found, she leaped down and scudded
around the house, Rufus pursued, she laughed, he laughed, and
full of frolic, he brought her to the spring. She said she was
not dry and would not drink, and would have run away again;
when Nimrod prevailed with her to the end desired. Then
they all drank, and pronounced it excellent water. Mistress
Palmer said it was soft and would wash well; Mistress

Wright declared it was nice to boil mint in; Alexander didn't
care if he hadn't to lug any more from the brook. All were
satisfied, and Margaret became a wonder.

A sumptuous home-made dinner, with a suet Indian-pudding
and molasses for dessert, was served on bright pewter
plates with stag-horn knives and forks. After this, Rufus
brought Margaret a marble flower-pot he had made, also a
kitten very well executed, which he had cut from the same
material. Rhody gave her a root of the Guelder rose. Mr.
Palmer paid the Widow handsomely for her visit to his
daughter, whose case she elaborately investigated. He offered
money to Nimrod, who refused it. Mistress Palmer made
Margaret a present of linen cloth of her own weaving, enough
for two or three entire under dresses.

“Thank Miss Palmer,” said Nimrod to his sister.

“Oh no!” exclaimed the lady. “Take it and welcome,
and anything we have got. But do, my young friend,” she
added as he was mounting his horse, “do think on your ways,
strive, strive, who knows but you may find the good thing at
last. And the little gal — she is a good child as ever was. It
was very kind of her to come all the way up here, and do us
a service. She is worth her weight in gold. I hope she will
have a new heart soon. Here,” she continued, “let me help
you on.” Margaret scarcely touching the woman's hand
sprang to the pillion. “Why, how she jumps! She is as
spry as a cricket. How pretty she does look up there behind
you; I must have a kiss out of her, — there, — remember thy
Creator in the days of thy youth — and don't you forget, my
young friend — good day.”

“I want Rhody to kiss me,” said Margaret.

“Run Rhody,” said her mother. So Rhody went forward
and kissed Margaret.

“Did Rhody kiss you?” asked Nimrod, when they had
rode on awhile without saying anything.

“Yes,” was the reply.