THE LOST HUNTER. 

 A Tale of Early Times. 

 "And still her grey rocks tower above the sea That murmurs at their feet, a conquered wave; 'Tis a rough land of earth, and stone, and tree, Where breathes no castled lord or cabined slave; Where thoughts, and tongues, and hands, are bold and free, And friends will find a welcome, foes a grave; And where none kneel, save when to heaven they pray, Nor even then, unless in their own way. " HALLECK

 NEW YORK:

 DERBY & JACKSON, 119 NASSAU STREET. CINCINNATI:--H. W. DERBY. 

 1856. 

ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by

J. C. DERBY, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, forthe Southern District of New York. 

W. H. TINSON, Stereotyper. 

PUDNEY & RUSSELL Printers. 

APOLOGY

As one might justly be considered a clown, or, at least, not wellbred, who, without tapping at the door, or making a bow, or saying "Byyour leave, " or some other token of respect, should burst in upona company of persons unknown to him, and instead of a welcome woulddeserve an unceremonious invitation to betake himself elsewhereforthwith; so, I suppose, in presenting myself before you, myhonored Public, it is no more than civil to say something by way ofintroduction. At least, I have observed from my obscure retreat in thequiet village of Addlebrains, that the fashion in this respect, whichhas prevailed, certainly, since the time of St. Luke, who commenceshis Gospel with a preface to Theophilus, has come down to the presentday, differing therein from other fashions, which, for the most part, are as transitory as the flowers of the field, and commending itselfthereby to the thoughtful consideration of the judicious; for itcannot be deemed there is no value in that which has received thesanction of centuries. Influenced by reflections of this descriptionand the like, I sat down one day in the little retreat, which theindulgent partiality of my friends is accustomed to dignify with thetitle of my "study, " to endeavor to write a preface, and introducemyself in a becoming manner to my readers. I was the more anxiousto do this properly, because, although a mere countryman, a sort ofcowhide shoe, as I may say, and therefore lacking that gloss, which, like the polish on a well-brushed boot, distinguishes and illustratesthe denizens of our metropolis in an eminent degree, as I know frompersonal experience, having been twice in New York, and, as I am told, also, the citizens of Boston and Philadelphia, and other provincialtowns, with a milder lustre, I would not like to be supposed entirelydestitute of refinement. It would be strange if I were, inasmuch as Ienjoyed in my youth, the privilege of two terms and a half instructionin the dancing school of that incomparable professor of theTerpsichorean science, the accomplished Monsieur St. Leger Pied. Itis in consequence of this early training, perhaps, that I am alwayspained when there is any deflection or turning aside from, or neglectof, the graceful, the becoming, and the proper. 

It will be observed that my last quarter was cut short in the middle;which untoward event arose from no arrogance or supercilious conceiton my part, as though I had perfected myself in the mysteries ofpigeon-wing and balancez, but from the abrupt departure ofthe professor himself, who, true to the name indicative of hisconstitutional levity, found it convenient to disappear betwixt twodays, with the advance pay of my whole term in his pocket, andwithout stopping to make even one of his uncommonly genteel bows. Thecircumstance was peculiarly disagreeable to me, in consequence of theschool being assembled when our loss was discovered, and of my havingsucceeded in engaging, for the greater part of the evening, the handof a young lady, whose charms had made a deep (though, as subsequentevents proved, not a durable) impression on my susceptible heart. Monsieur was our only musician, and, of course, with his violinwent the dancing. The cause of his evasion or flight was variouslyaccounted for, some ascribing it to a debt he had contracted forkid gloves and pumps, and others to dread of the wrath of a younggentleman, whose sister he had been so imprudent as to kiss in thepresence of another girl, not remarkable for personal attractions, towhom he had never paid the same compliment. As was to be expected, shewas scandalized at the impropriety and want of taste, and immediatelymade it known, in spite of the entreaties of the blushing beauty andthe "pardons" of Monsieur. As Virgilius has it, "Manet altã mente i epõstum, Judicium Paridis spretæque injuria formæ. "

In my opinion, it was the kiss that cost poor Monsieur Pied hisschool, and me a dollar and a half, three dollars being the pricefor a term's instruction. Not, I beg to be understood, that I careanything about the money, but in relating an event I like to becircumstantial and strictly accurate. But I find that, wiled away bythe painfully pleasing reminiscences of my youth, I am wanderingfrom my undertaking, which is, not to narrate the misadventures of adancing-master, but to compose a preface. 

I had seated myself, as I was saying, in my little den or confugium, where, as in a haven of rest, I love to hide myself from thedistractions of the world, and concentrate my thoughts, and which hasbeen to me the scene of many sad as well as pleasant hours, and dippedmy goose quill (anathema maranatha on steel pens, which I cannot helpfancying, impart a portion of their own rigidity to style, for if thestylus be made of steel is it not natural that the style by derivationand propinquity should be hard?) into the ink-stand, after firstcasting my eyes on the busts of Shakespeare and Milton, which, castin plaster, adorn my retirement, half imploring them to assist in soimportant an enterprise, when the door opened, and who should enterbut my dear friend, the Rev. Increase Grace? But here let me remarkparenthetically, the habit of dealing in parentheses being one Iespecially dislike, only necessity compelling me thereto, and before Iproceed further, that the word "confugium, " which, both on account ofits terse expressiveness, as well as its _curiosa felicitas_ in thepresent application, I have chosen in order to define my den, has not, I hope, escaped the notice of the discriminating scholar. Moreover, I trust that I shall not incur the imputation of vanity if I take tomyself some little credit for the selection. It will be observed thatit is a compound term, the latter part, "fugium" (from fuga, flight), characterizing the purpose to which my secluded nook is applied asa refuge, whither I fly from the unmeaning noise and vanity of theworld; and the prefix, "con" (equivalent to cum, with), conveyingthe idea of its social designation. For I should be loth to have itthought that, like Charles Lamb's rat, who, by good luck, happening tofind a Cheshire cheese, kept the discovery a profound secret fromthe rest of the rats, in order to monopolize the delicious dainty, pretending all the while that his long and frequent absences at acertain hole were purely for purposes of heavenly contemplation, hismind having of late become seriously impressed, and, therefore, hecould not bear interruption, I am in the habit of ensconcing myselfwith a selfish exclusion therein. Far from it: the door is neverbarred against admission, and my confugium rather means (though thedictionaries with their usual vagueness so much to be lamented, havenot succeeded in eviscerating its full signification) a common placeof retirement for myself and intimate friends. Hence it was not as anintrusion, but, on the contrary, as an acceptable call, that I greetedthe arrival of Increase. There must have been an unusual degree ofgravity in my countenance corresponding with the importance of thework I was about to undertake, for the reverend gentleman had hardlytaken a seat before he observed it, and inquired into its cause. Weare upon that footing of intimacy, that there was no impropriety inthe question, and I unhesitatingly acquainted him with my purpose. 

"I should as soon think, " said the Rev. Increase, "of building averandah before a wood-house, or putting mahogany doors into my oldtoppling down church. "

The remark was not very complimentary, but great freedom of speechprevails between us, and I took no offence; especially as I knew thatthe Rev. Gentleman was smarting under a disappointment in the saleof a volume of sermons, whence he had expected great things, fromthe publication of which I had vainly endeavored to dissuade him, andwhose meagre proceeds fully justified my forebodings. The mention ofmy work naturally recalled this afflictive dispensation, and _hincillæ lacrimæ_. Reading his mind, I answered, therefore, as gently asa slight tremor in my voice would allow, that there was no accountingfor tastes, and that as trifling a thing as a song had been known tooutlive a sermon. 

I declare I meant no harm, but his reverence (one of the best men inthe world, but who, in every sense of the word, belongs to the "churchmilitant, ") instantly blazed up--

"I dare say, " he said, bitterly, "that you understand the fripperytaste of this trivial age better than I. A capability to appreciatesolid reading, reading that cultivates the understanding while itamends the heart, seems to be with the forgotten learning before theflood. They who pander to this diseased appetite have much to answerfor; not, " he was pleased to add--his indignation cooling off like asteam-boiler which has found vent, "that the trifle on which for thelast few months you have been wasting your time has not a certain kindof merit, but it seems a pity, that one, capable of better things, should so miserably misapply his powers. "

These sentiments were not entirely new to me, else I might have becomea little excited; for, during the whole time while I was engaged inthe composition of the work, my friend, who is, also, in the habitof communicating his literary enterprises to me, would insist upon myreading him the chapters, as fast as they came along, manifesting nolittle curiosity in the manner in which I should disengage myself fromdifficulties in which he supposed me from time to time involved, and exuberant delight at the ingenious contrivances, as, in acomplimentary mood, he once said, by which I eluded them. It is true, all this betrayal of interest was accompanied by various pishes andpshaws, and lamentations over the trifling character of my pursuits;but, like too many others, both in his cloth and out of it, hisconduct contradicted his language, and I was encouraged by the former, while I only smiled at the latter. 

"If such be your opinion, " said I, suddenly seizing the manuscript, which lay before me, and making a motion to throw it into the fire;"if such be your candid opinion, I had better destroy the nonsense atonce. "

"Hold!" cried the Rev. Increase, arresting my hand, "you areshockingly touchy and precipitate; how often have I cautioned youagainst this trait of your character. Because your workling does notdeserve to be mentioned in the same category with works of solid andacknowledged merit, like, for instance, Rollin's Ancient Historyor Prideaux' Connexion, and can, at best, enjoy but an ephemeralexistence, does it deserve to have no existence at all? On yourprinciple, we should have no butterflies, because their careless liveslast but a day. "

"Well, Increase, " said I, "if, like the butterfly, whose short anderratic presence imparts another beauty to green fields and blueskies, and blossoms, and songs of birds, my little book shall be ableto seduce a smile to the lips, or cheat away a pain from the bosomof one of those whom you are so fond of calling 'pilgrims through adreary wilderness, ' I shall feel amply compensated for the waste of mytime. "

"If your expectations are so moderate, I see no harm in your indulgingthem, " said my friend; "but I cannot help wishing you had oftenertaken my advice in its composition. "

"I have great respect for your opinion, " I answered, "but I find itimpossible to pass the ideas of another through the crucible of mymind and do them justice. Somehow or other, when I am expecting astream of gold, it turns out a _caput mortuum_ of lead. No, my bettercourse is to coin my copper in my own way. But, tell me frankly, whatoffends you. "

My Rev. Friend had, by this time, forgotten his unfortunate volume ofsermons, and resumed his good nature. 

"Offends me? my dear friend, and half-parishoner (for I notice a badhabit you have got into, of late, of attending church only in themorning--pray reform it), you use a very harsh term. There is nothingin the book that offends me; although, " he added, cautiously, "Ido not mean to say that I sanction entirely either your religious, philosophical, or political speculations. I am no flatterer, and claimthe privilege of a friend to speak my mind. "

"My dear Increase, " said I, pressing his hand, "I love you all themore for your sincerity; but why do you call them my speculations? Ihave expressed no opinions. They are the opinions of the characters, and not mine. I wish you and all the world distinctly to understandthat. "

"And yet the world will hold you to account for them. If a man firesa gun into a crowd, is he not responsible for any mischief that may bethe consequence?"

"I do not expect to make so loud a report, " said I, smiling; "but Iprotest against your doctrine. Why, according to that, an author isaccountable for all the opinions of his dramatis personæ, howeverabsurd and contradictory they may be. "

"I do not go so far as that. I hold that the author is onlyresponsible for the effect produced: if that effect be favorable tovirtue, he deserves praise; if the contrary, censure. "

"I admit the justice of the view you take, with that limitation; and Itrust it is with a sense of such accountability I have written, " saidI. "May I, then, flatter myself with the hope that you will grant meyour imprimatur?"

"You have it, " said he; "and may no critic regard your book with lessindulgent eyes than mine. But what name do you give the bantling?"

"Oh, " said I, "I have not concluded, I fancy that one name is nearlyas good as another. "

"I don't know about that, " said the Rev. Increase. "A couple whobrought their child lately to me to be baptized did not think so, at any rate. I inquired what was the name chosen, when, to myastonishment, I heard sounds which resembled very much one of thetitles bestowed upon the arch enemy of mankind. Supposing that my earsdeceived me, I inquired again, when the same word, to my horror, wasmore distinctly repeated. 'Lucifer!' said I, to myself, 'impossible!I cannot baptize a child by such a name. ' I bent over once more, anda third time asked the question. The answer was the same, and repeatedlouder and with an emphasis, as if the parents were determined to havethat name or none. By this time my situation had become embarrassing, for there was I, in the presence of the whole waiting congregation, standing up with the baby in my arms, which, to add to myconsternation, set up a squall as if to convince me that he wasentitled to the name. My bachelor modesty could stand the scene nolonger; so, hastily dipping my fingers in the font, and resolving heshould have a good name, as opposite as possible to the diabolicalone so strangely selected, I baptized the infant George Washington. I thought the parents looked queerly at the time, but the rite wasperformed, the baby had got an excellent name, and I was relieved. Butconceive, if you can, my confusion, when, after service, the fatherand mother came into the vestry, and the latter bursting into tears, exclaimed: 'Oh, thir, what have you done? Ith a girl, ith a girl! andyou've called her George Wathington! My poor little Luthy, my dearlittle Luthy!' Alas! the mother lisped, and when I asked for thename, meaning to be very polite, and to say, Lucy, sir, in reply tomy question, she had said, 'Luthy, thir, ' which I mistook for Lucifer. What was to be done? I consoled the afflicted parents as well as I wasable, and promised to enter the name in the parish registry and townrecords as Lucy, which I did; but for all that, the girl's genuine, orthodox name is George Washington!"

"I see, " said I, paying him for his joke with the expected laugh, "there is something in a name, and we must be cautious in its choice. "The result was, that I followed my friend's advice in adopting the onewhich was finally selected. Soon after the Rev. Gentleman took his hatand left me to my meditations. Thereupon I resumed my pen, and vainlyendeavored to write a preface. At last, in despair, I could hitupon no better expedient than to explain to you, my dear Public, thecircumstances which prevent my doing it now. You will sympathize withmy mortification, and forgive my failure for the sake of the honesteffort, and no more think of condemning me, than you would theaforesaid rustic, alluded to in the beginning of this my apology, should he, instead of boisterously rushing in upon the company, endeavor (his sense of the becoming overcoming his bashfulness) totwist his body into the likeness of a bow, thereby only illustratingand confirming the profound wisdom of the maxim, _non omnia possumusomnes_. Should our awkward attempts be classed together, I shallnevertheless indulge the hope, that better acquaintance with you willincrease my facility of saying nothing with grace, and improve mymanners, even as I doubt not that under the tuition of Monsieur Pied, the aforesaid countryman might, in time, be taught to make a passablebow. 

For ever, _vive_, my dear Public, and, until we meet again (which, whether we ever do, will depend upon how we are pleased with eachother), _vale_. 

THE AUTHOR. 

CHAPTER I. 

 At last the golden orientall gate Of greatest heaven gan to open fayre, And Phoebus fresh as brydegrome to his mate, Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie hayre, And hurld his glistening beams through gloomy ayre. 

 SPENSER'S FAERY QUEENE. 

It was a lovely morning in the autumn of the year of grace 18--. Thebeams of the sun had not yet fallen upon the light veil of mist thathovered over the tranquil bosom of the river Severn, and rose andgathered itself into folds, as if preparing for departure at theapproach of an enemy it were in vain to resist. With a murmur, so softit was almost imperceptible, glided the stream, blue as the heaven itmirrored, between banks now green and gently shelving away, crownedwith a growth of oak, hickory, pine, hemlock and savin, now risinginto irregular masses of grey rocks, overgrown with moss, with hereand there a stunted bush struggling out of a fissure, and seeming toderive a starved existence from the rock itself; and now, in strongcontrast, presenting almost perpendicular elevations of barren sand. Occasionally the sharp cry of a king-fisher, from a withered boughnear the margin, or the fluttering of the wings of a wild duck, skimming over the surface, might be heard, but besides these therewere no sounds, and _they_ served only to make the silence deeper. It is at this hour, and upon an island in the river that our storycommences. 

The island itself is of an irregular shape and very small, beinghardly an acre in extent, and its shore covered with pebbles andboulders of granite. Near the centre, and fronting the east, stands anunpainted wood cabin of the humblest appearance, the shape and sizeof which is an oblong of some thirty by fifteen feet. One rude doorfurnishes the only means of entrance, and light is admitted throughtwo small windows, one on the east and the other on the west side. Straggling patches of grass, a few neglected currant-bushes behindthe hut, and a tall holly-hock or two by the door are all the signs ofvegetation that meet the eye. 

At the door of this cabin, and at the time we are describing, stooda solitary figure. He was a gaunt, thin man, whose stature ratherexceeded than fell below six feet. The object about his person whichfirst arrested attention was a dark grizzled beard, that fell half-waydown his breast, in strong contrast with a high white forehead, beneath which glowed large dreamy eyes. The hair of his head, like hisbeard, was long, and fell loosely over his shoulders. His dress was ofthe coarsest description, consisting of a cloth of a dusky grey color, the upper garment being a loose sort of surtout, falling almost to theknees, and secured round the waist by a dark woollen sash. His ageit was difficult to determine. It might have been anywhere betweenforty-five and fifty-five years. 

The attitude and appearance of the man, were that of devotion andexpectancy. His body was bent forward, his hands clasped, and hiseyes intently fastened on the eastern sky, along the horizon of whichlayers of clouds, a moment before of a leaden hue were now assumingdeeper and deeper crimson tints. As the clouds flushed up intobrighter colors his countenance kindled with excitement. His formseemed to dilate, his eyes to flash, his hands unclasped themselves, and he stretched out his arms, as if to welcome a long expectedfriend. But presently the rays of the sun began to stream over theswelling upland and light up the surface of the river, and fainter andfainter shone the clouds, until they gradually melted into the bluedepth away. It was then a shade of disappointment, as it seemed, passed over the face of the man. Its rapt expression faded, he casta look almost of reproach to heaven, and his feelings found vent inwords. 

"Hast Thou not said, 'Behold, I come quickly?' Why then delay thewheels of Thy chariot? O, Lord, I have waited for Thy salvation. Inthe night-watches, at midnight, at cock-crowing, and in the morning, have I been mindful of Thee. But chiefly at the dawn hath my soul goneforth to meet Thee, for then shall appear the sign of the Son of Manin Heaven, and they shall see him coming in the clouds of Heaven, withpower and great glory. And he shall send His angels with a great soundof a trumpet, and they shall gather together His elect from one end ofHeaven to the other. "

His eyes glared wildly round, then fell and fastened on the ground, and for a few moments he remained immovable as a statue, after which, with an air of dejection, he turned as if about to enter the hut. Atthat moment the report of a gun from the shore close by was heard, andlooking, up he saw a man fall from the sloping bank upon the beach. 

If there had been any appearance of weakness or infirmity before inthe Recluse, it now vanished. Nothing could exceed the promptitude andenergy of his movements. To rush to the water, to throw himself intoa boat, to unfasten it from the stake to which it was tied, and with avigorous push to send it half-way across the channel, was the work ofbut an instant. A few dextrous and strong strokes of the paddle soonsent it grating on the pebbled shore, and with a bound he was by theside of the prostrate man. He lay with his face to the ground, withone arm stretched out, and the other cramped up beneath his body. Nearhim the leaves and grass were stained with drops of blood, and at ashort distance a gun was lying. 

The old man passed his arm around the stranger, to raise him from hisrecumbent position. The motion must have occasioned pain, for a lowgroan was heard. But it, at least, attested the presence of life, and there was consolation in even those sad sounds. With all thetenderness of a mother he raised the wounded man in his arms, andendeavored to discover the place and character of the wound, in orderto staunch, if possible, the bleeding. But it was soon apparent thatall such attempts would be useless, and only tend to aggravate thepain without leading to any desirable result, so long as the clothingwas allowed to remain on. The better course seemed to be to remove himimmediately to the hut. As gently, therefore, as possible, the old manbore him to the boat, and deposited him upon its bottom. A few strokesof the paddle sent it back again to the island, and soon the woundedstranger was lying on a rude, but welcome bed. Here the first thing tobe done was to divest him of his coat and such other clothing as hidthe wound. Having performed this duty, which was done by cutting offthe coat and tearing the under garments, the next care of the old manwas, in the best manner in his power, to apply bandages to stop theblood, which trickled from the right side and shoulder. This was donewith no little skill, as by one who did not then see a gun-shot woundfor the first time. The process was accompanied by an occasionalgroan, when the bandages pressed the wounded parts too closely, whichthe sufferer seemed to try to suppress, appearing, at the same time, to endeavor to express his thanks, by a smile and the soft glances ofhis eyes. Any attempt at exertion was instantly repressed by his kindnurse, who never failed, when it occurred, to enjoin quiet. 

"Thou art weak from loss of blood, young man, " he said, "but I ammistaken if there is much danger. Yet, a narrow escape hast thou had. Be thankful to that Providence, by whom the hairs of thy head are allnumbered, and who permitteth not a sparrow to fall without notice tothe ground, for so directing the shot that they only tore the outerflesh, without reaching a vital part. And so, hereafter, when theevils of life shall assail thee, may they penetrate no deeper than thesurface, nor affect thy immortal soul. "

Here the young man made a motion, as if about to speak, but he wasinterrupted by the other. 

"Nay, " said the Recluse, "thou must obey me for thy own good, and Ihave forbid all speech. It will start the blood, and weaken thee stillmore. Compose thyself, now, while I leave thee but for an instant, todiscover, if I can, a boat going to Hillsdale. "

We will avail ourselves of the absence of the Recluse to describe theinterior of the hut and its occupant. And to begin with the latter--hewas a dark-haired youth, of twenty-one or two years of age, thenatural paleness of whose complexion was enhanced as well by the ravencolor of his hair as by the loss of blood. His features were quiteregular, and surmounted by a brow rather high than broad. The eyeswere the most remarkable, and commanded instant attention. They werelarge, black and flashing, and, in spite of the injunctions of the oldman, wide open and roving round the apartment. By the manner in whichhe had been addressed, it was evident he was unknown. 

The chamber itself was a square of about fifteen feet, or one-halfof the hut, with a fire-place made of large stones and bricks, andlighted by one window, and was lathed and plastered. Its furnitureconsisted of the bed above mentioned, lying on a low pine frame, originally painted red, but now somewhat defaced and worn; of a coupleof basket-bottomed chairs; a stone jar, to contain water; a rifleand powder-horn, supported by two nails driven into the wall; a pinetable, and a set of shelves filled with books. This was the back-room, and opened into another of the same size, differing from the formerin having no fire-place and being not lathed. This latter room wasdestitute of furniture, unless a work-bench, on which were a fewtools; a chopping-block, made of the segment of the body of alarge tree; a cooper's horse; a couple of oyster rakes and somefishing-rods, could be called such. In two of the corners stoodbundles of hickory poles, and on the floor were scattered a quantityof withes, designed, apparently, for basket-making. These articleshad, probably, some connection with the pursuits of the tenant of thehut. On the walls, on pegs, hung a number of baskets, of differentsizes--some finished, and some in an unfinished condition. 

The Recluse, upon leaving his guest, proceeded to the west side ofthe little island, and cast a searching glance in every direction, to ascertain if any one were in sight. No boat was visible, and heimmediately retraced his steps. 

Noiselessly he stole back to the couch of his guest, whom he foundapparently asleep, though, in truth, the slumber was simulated outof deference to the anxieties of the old man. Several times he passedbackwards and forwards from the chamber to the door before he had thesatisfaction to find the object of his search. At length, a canoe wasdiscovered coming up the river, containing two persons, who, on nearerapproach, were seen to be Indians, a man and a woman, belonging tothe remnant of a tribe, lingering about their ancient hunting-groundsalong the banks of the river. The game, indeed, that once abounded inthe woods, had disappeared, and the blue stream and swelling hills, and green plains, and intrusive industry and increasing villages ofthe whites, but reminded them of present weakness and former power. But, the sensibility to degradation was blunted. They had, gradually, become assimilated to their condition; the river abounded in shell andother fish; they could maintain existence, scanty and mean thoughit was, and they preferred this certainty to the nobler, but moreprecarious life of the Western tribes. As the canoe approached, theRecluse beckoned with his hand, and the bow was turned towards theislet. 

"Welcome, Esther, " he said, "goest thou to the town?"

A silent nod of the head was the reply. 

"Wilt thou carry me a message?"

A nod of acquiescence answered as before. 

"Go, then, quickly, and tell John Elmer, that a man, wounded by a gun, is lying in my hut, and I desire him to come instantly. "

The squaw again nodded, and, without making an inquiry, with thenatural apathy of her race, she said--

"What Father Holden say, I do. "

The Indian, who, until now, had been silent, here addressed her in hisown tongue. 

"Can the Partridge, " he said, "use her wings to no better purpose thanto fly upon the errands of her white master?"

"Ohquamehud, " said the squaw, "is a wise warrior, and his eyes aresharp, but they see not into the heart of a woman. If the sunshine andthe rain fall upon the ground, shall it bring forth no fruit?"

"It is well, " said the Indian, in a sarcastic tone; "Peéna is wellnamed; and the Partridge, though the daughter of a Sachem, shallflutter through the air to do the bidding of the white man. "

The eyes of Peéna, or the Partridge, flashed, and she was about toreturn an angry reply, when she was prevented by the man whom she hadcalled Father Holden. 

"Hasten!" he said, in the same language, forgetting himself, in theexcitement of the moment, and unconsciously using the same figurativediction, "or the fountain of the red stream may be dried up beforethe medicine-man comes. Hasten! It is noble to do good, and the GreatSpirit shall bless the deed. "

Great was the astonishment of the Indians at discovering they had beenunderstood, and hearing themselves addressed in their own tongue. But only an expressive hugh! and an involuntary stroke of the paddle, which sent the canoe dancing over the water, betrayed their surprise. Holden stood for a moment gazing after them, then turning, directedhis steps towards the hut. We will not follow him, but pursue thedeparting Indians. 

For five minutes, perhaps, they paddled on in silence, each apparentlyunwilling to betray any curiosity about a circumstance that engrossedthe thoughts of both. At last the woman spoke. 

"The Great Spirit has taught the words of the wigwam to the man withthe Long Beard. "

A shrug of the shoulders and another hugh! were the only notice takenby her companion of the observation. Again a silence followed, whichwas broken this time by the man. As if to express his dissent from theconjecture of the squaw, he said, "The Long Beard has drunk of the streams that run towards the settingsun, and there he learned the speech of warriors. Did he charmthe ears of Peéna with their sounds when he taught her to run hiserrands?"

The blood crimsoned deeper into the cheeks of the woman, but withan effort she subdued the rising feeling of resentment, while sheanswered, "Let Ohquamehud listen, and the darkness shall depart from his path. The sun has eaten the snows of fifteen winters, and fifteen times thesong of the summer birds have been silent since the Long Beard cameto the river of the Pequots. And the pale faces desired hiscompanionship, but he turned away his steps from theirs, and built hiswigwam on the Salmon Isle, for the heart of the Long Beard was lonely. There he speaks to the Great Spirit in the morning clouds. The youngcub that sprung from the loins of Huttamoiden had already put on hismoccasins for the Spirit land, and the tears of Peéna were fallingfast when the Long Beard came to her wigwam. And he stretched his armsover the boy and asked of the Great Spirit that he might stay to leadhis mother by the hand when she should be old and blind, and to pluckthe thorns from her feet. And the Great Spirit listened, for he lovesthe Long Beard, and unloosed the moccasins from the feet of the boy, and the fire in his breath went out, and he slept, and was well. Therefore is Peéna a bird to fly with the messages of the Long Beard. But this is the first time she has heard from white lips the languageof the red man. "

The Indian could now comprehend the conduct of the woman. It wasnatural she should be grateful to the savior of her child's life, andready to show the feeling by the little means in her power. Could hehave looked into her heart, he would have seen that there was morethan mere gratitude there. Holden's conduct, so different from thatof other white men; the disinterested nature of his character showingitself in acts of kindness to all; his seclusion; his gravity, which seldom admitted of a smile; his imposing appearance, and hismysterious communings with some unseen power--for she had often seenhim as he stood to watch for the rising sun, and heard his wild burstsof devotion--had made a deep impression on the squaw, and investedhim with the attributes of a superior being; a feeling which wasparticipated in by many of the Indians. 

But if Ohquamehud could have seen all this, it would have servedonly to aggravate the suspicions he begun to entertain about theLong Beard, as he and the woman called Holden. As an Indian, he wassuspicious of even the kindness of the white man, lest some evildesign might lurk beneath. What wonder, when we consider the relationof one to the other? How much of our history is that of the wolf, whocharged the lamb, who drank below him, with muddying the stream?

Ohquamehud, a Pequot by birth, was a stranger who, but a few daysbefore, had come from a Western tribe, into which he had been adopted, either to visit the graves of his fathers, or for some of thosethousand causes of relationship, or friendship, or policy, which willinduce the North American Indian to journey hundreds of miles, and sawthe Recluse, for the first time, that morning. If the gratitude of thesquaw was explained, which, he doubted not, was undeserved, the LongBeard's knowledge of the Indian tongue was not. How it was that heshould be thus familiar with and speak it with a grace and fluencybeyond the power of the few scattered members of the tribe in theneighborhood, the most of whom had almost lost all remembrance ofit, was to him an interesting mystery. He mused in silence over histhoughts, occasionally stopping the paddle and passing his hand overhis brow, as if to recall some circumstance or idea that constantlyeluded his grasp. In this manner they proceeded until, on turning ahigh point of land, the little village of Hillsdale appeared in sight. 

Those who see now that handsome town, for the first time, can have butlittle idea of its appearance then. But, though the large brickstores that line its wharves, and the costly mansions of moderntimes, clustering one above the other on the hill-sides, and its finechurches of granite and Portland stone, were not to be seen, yet, itwas even then a place that could not fail to attract attention. 

The situation is one of exceeding beauty. Two bright streams--theWootúppocut, whose name indicates its character, its meaning being"clear water, " and the Yaupáae, or "margin of a river, " which, why itshould be so called it is not as easy to explain, unite their watersto form the noble Severn. It is a pity that the good taste whichpreserved the original names of the two first, had not also retainedthe title of the last--the Sakimau, or Sachem, or chief, by which itwas known to the Indians. It is possible the first settlers in thecountry thought, that allowing two rivers to retain their aboriginalappellations was a sufficient tribute to good taste, while they madethe change of name of the third an offering to affection, many of themhaving drawn their first breath on the pleasant banks of the Englishriver Severn. It was on the tongue of land, or promontory, formed bythe confluence of the two rivers that composed the Severn, that theprincipal part of the town was situated. 

On the promontory facing the south, and rising boldly from the water, the white-painted village ascended half-way up its sides, its twoprincipal streets sweeping away, in curving lines, round the base, upward to a piece of level land, into which the north side of thehill gently declined. At the most northern part of this level, thetwo streets united, at a distance of a mile from the wharves, into onewhich thence winded a devious course two or three miles further alongthe Yaupáae. Above the highest roofs and steeples, towered the greensummit of the hill, whose thick-growing evergreens presented, at allseasons, a coronal of verdure. One who stood on the top could see comerushing in from the east, through a narrow throat, and betweenbanks that rose in height as they approached the town, the swiftWootúppocut, soon to lose both its hurry and its name in the deeperand more tranquil Severn, of which it is the principal tributary, while on the west he beheld, gliding like a silver snake through greenmeadows, the gentle Yaupáae, lingering, as if it loved the fieldsthrough which it wandered, until suddenly quickening its pace, with aroar as of angry vexation, it precipitated itself in eddies of boilingfoam, whose mist rose high into the air, down a deep gorge, betweenoverhanging rocks, through which it had forced a passage. Thencethe stream, subsiding into sudden tranquillity, expanded into a covedotted with two or three little islands, and flowing round the base ofthe hill which declined gradually towards the west, united itself withthe Wootúppocut. Far beneath his feet he saw the roofs of the houses, and steeples of churches, and masts of sloops, employed in thecoasting business, and of brigs engaged in the West India trade, andnoticed a communication, partly bridge and partly causey, thrown overthe mouth of the Yaupáae and uniting the opposite banks; for, on thewestern side, along the margin and up the hill, houses were thicklyscattered. 

The canoe soon glided alongside of one of the wharves, and the Indiansdisappeared in the streets. 

CHAPTER II. 

 With us there was a Doctor of Physic: In all this world ne was there none him like, To speak of physic and of surgery. 

 * * * * *

 He knew the cause of every malady, Were it of cold, or hot, or moist, or dry, And where engendered, and of what humor: He was a very perfect practiser. The cause y know, and of his harm the root, Anon he gave to the sick man his boot. 

 CHAUCER. 

The first care of the faithful Peéna or Esther, was to seek thedoctor. She found him at home, and was instantly admitted to hispresence. 

"Queen Esther, " he exclaimed, the moment he saw her, "is it thou?Welcome, descendant of a line of kings. Would'st like some cider?" Hespoke the word "cider" like the Indians, with a rising inflection onthe last syllable. It was an offer no Indian could resist, and thesquaw answered simply in the affirmative. From a pitcher of thegrateful beverage, which shortly before had been brought into theroom, and which, indeed, suggested the offer, the doctor filled afoaming glass, and the squaw was not long in draining its contents, after which she delivered herself of her errand. 

"Esther, " exclaimed the doctor, rising and hastening to collect hisinstruments and medicine pouch, "thou hast circumvented me. Why didyou not tell me before? Here have I been pouring cider into yourroyal gullet, when I should have hastened to take a bullet out of someplebeian carcass. Can you tell me the name of the wounded man?"

The squaw shook her head, and only said, "Esther not know. "

By this time his preparations were completed, which he had not allowedthe conversation to interrupt, and closely followed by the woman, hehastened to the wharf. Here casting an eye to the flys that waved fromthe masts of some of the vessels, and observing the wind was fair, herejected her offer to take him in the canoe, and throwing himselfinto a little sail-boat, was soon busily engaged in untying the sails. While thus employed a voice saluted his ears:

"Why, doctor, what is in the wind now?"

The person who thus addressed him was a young man of probably not morethan twenty-five years of age. His dress indicated that he belonged tothe wealthier class of citizens, and there was something pleasing inhis manners and address. 

"Glad to see you, William, " said the doctor. "I want a crew; come, ship for a cruise. "

"But where away, doctor?"

"To Holden's island, to visit a wounded man. Jump aboard, and tendjib-sheets. "

By this time the sails were hoisted, and, the young man complying withthe invitation, the little craft was soon under weigh, and rapidlyproceeding down the river. The distance was only three or four miles, and quickly passed over. They were met on the beach by Holden, to whomthe gentlemen were both known, but he was unable to inform them of thename of the wounded man. As soon as the doctor beheld him, however, heexclaimed:

"It is Mr. Pownal. God forbid the hurt should be serious. "

The countenance of the doctor's companion, and the few words heuttered, denoted also recognition of the stranger. 

"So, my poor fellow, " said the doctor, as the sufferer extended ahand, and expressed in a few words his pleasure at the coming of thetwo, "that is enough, I claim a monopoly of the talking. "

He proceeded at once to examine the wound, which he did with greatcare and in silence. He found, as Holden had said, that the chargehad only grazed the surface, tearing the flesh from the side up tothe shoulder, pretty deeply, indeed, but making an ugly, rather thana dangerous wound. After the task was completed, and lint and freshbandages were applied, the doctor sunk with a sigh, as of relief, upona chair, and assured the young man that he only needed rest for thepresent, and in a day or two might return to his friends. 

"I would rather lose six ordinary patients than you, Tom Pownal, " hesaid. "Why you are my beau ideal of a merchant, the Ionic capital ofthe pillar of trade. Now, let not your mind be

 'Tossing on the ocean; There, where your argosies with portly sail, Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood; Or, as it were the pageants of the sea, Do overpower the petty traffickers. '

Quiet, my dear boy, both of mind and body, are your indispensables. Iwant you to understand that:

 'I tell thee what, Antonio-- love thee, and It is my love that speaks. '"

Pownal promised to be very obedient, in consideration whereof thedoctor guaranteed he should receive great satisfaction from his wound. "You shall see for yourself, " he said, "how beautifully it will heal. To a scientific eye, and under my instruction you shall get one, thereis something delightful in witnessing the granulations. We may say ofNature, as Dr. Watts sings of the honey-bee:

 'How skillfully she builds her cell, How neat she stores the wax!'

I consider you a fortunate fellow. "

The young men were obliged to smile at the doctor's way of viewing thesubject; but he paid little attention to their mirth. 

"And I will remain, meanwhile, with you, " said William Bernard, whichwas the name of the gentleman who had accompanied the physician, addressing himself to Pownal, "if our good friend, "--and here helooked at Holden--"has no objection. "

The Recluse signified his assent; and Pownal, thanking his friend, thedoctor gave his sanction to the arrangement. 

"It will do you no harm, William, " he said, "to rough it for a nightor two, and you will prove yourself thereby of a different stamp fromTimon's friends. " And here the doctor, who loved to quote poetry, especially Shakspeare's, better than to administer medicine, indulgedagain in his favorite habit:

 "'As we do turn our backs From our companion thrown into his grave, So his familiars, to his buried fortunes, Slink all away; leave their false vows with him, Like empty purses picked, and his poor self A dedicated beggar to the air. '

But, Mr. Holden, lend me thy ears a moment, and thy tongue, too, ifyou please, for you must tell me how this happened. I do not care todisturb Pownal with the inquiry. "

So saying, he walked out of the chamber, followed by the Recluse. 

"Tell me first, " said Holden, as they stood in the open air, "whatthou thinkest of the wound. "

"Ha!" cried the doctor, "'tis not so deep as a well nor so wide as achurch door; but 'tis enough--'twill serve. "

"What!" exclaimed the Recluse, "hast thou been deceiving the boy! Butno, thou art incapable of that; and, besides, I have seen too manywounds to apprehend danger from this. "

"I see, friend, you have read Shakspeare to some purpose, " cried thedoctor; "but know that I spoke not in the sense in which Mercutiospeaks of the wound that Tybalt gave him. My mirth is not so grave aspoor Mercutio's. Look you, now, I told you but the simple truth, andwhat your own eyes have seen. The wound _is not_ so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door. If it were--admitting the physicalpossibility--Pownal would be a monster to look at, and no dressings ofmine would be of any use. And it is enough, too. You would not have itmore. Besides, 'twill serve; that is, to keep him a day or two inyour cabin. And herein consists one of the innumerable excellences ofShakspeare. Every sentence is as full of matter as my saddle-bags ofmedicine. Why, I will engage to pick out as many meanings in each asthere are plums in a pudding. But, friend, I am sure you must have acopy. Let me see it. "

"I know little of these vanities, " replied Holden. "In my giddy youth, I drank such follies, even as the ass sucketh up the east wind. Butit pleased the Lord to open mine eyes. In thoughts from the visions ofthe night, " he continued--and his eyes shone brighter, and his statureseemed to increase--"when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon meand trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a vision passedbefore me, and the hair of my flesh stood up. It stood still, butI could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mineeyes--there was silence, and then I heard a voice saying, 'Behold, I come quickly; watch and pray, for thou knowest not the day nor thehour!' I was not disobedient to the heavenly warning, and thenceforththe pomps and vanities of the world have been as the dust beneath myfeet. "

This was not the first time that the doctor heard the Recluse speak ofhis peculiar opinions; but, although always ready to avow and dilateupon them when others were willing to listen, he had uniformlymanifested an unwillingness to allude to himself or the incidents ofhis life. Whenever, heretofore, as sometimes happened, the curiosityof his auditors led the conversation in that direction, he hadinvariably evaded all hints and repulsed every inquiry. But his moodseemed different to-day. Elmer was a friend whom Holden highly prized, and he could therefore speak the more freely in his presence; but thisis not sufficient to account for the dropping of his reserve. We knowno other explanation than that there are times when the heart of everyone is opened, and longs to unburden itself, and this was one of themthat unsealed the lips of the Solitary. 

"Is it long since the revelation?" inquired the doctor. 

"Too long, " said Holden, "did I wander in the paths of sin, andin forgetfulness of my God, and my youth was wasted in that whichsatisfieth not, neither doth it profit. My heart was very hard, and itrose up in rebellion against the Lord. Then it pleased Him (blessed beHis holy name) to bray me in the mortar of affliction, and to crushme between the upper and the nether millstone. Yet I heeded not; and, like Nebuchadnezzar, my mind was hardened in pride, continually. Then, as the King of Babylon was driven forth from the sons of men, and hisheart made like the beasts', and his dwelling was with the wild asses, and they fed him with grass, like oxen, and his body was wet withthe dew of heaven, even so did the Spirit drive me forth into thetabernacles of the wild men of the forest and the prairie, and Isojourned with them many days. But He doth not always chide, neitherkeepeth He His anger for ever. In His own good time, He snatched mefrom the fiery furnace, and bade me here wait for His salvation; andhere, years, long years, have I looked for His promise. O, Lord, howlong!"

The doctor's question was unanswered, either because Holden forgotit, in his excitement, or that he was incapable of giving any accurateaccount of the passage of time. But thus much the doctor could gatherfrom his incoherent account, that, at some period of his life, hehad suffered a great calamity, which had affected his reason. In thiscondition, he had probably joined the Indians, and passed severalyears among them, and afterwards, upon a partial restoration ofintellect, adopted the wild notions he professed. What had passedduring those years, was a secret known only to himself, if, indeed, the events had not disappeared from his memory. 

"You have suffered bitterly, " said the doctor. 

"Talk not of suffering, " exclaimed Holden. "I reckon all that man canendure as not to be compared with the crown of glory that awaits himwho shall gain entrance into the Kingdom. What is this speck we calllife? Mark, " he continued, taking up a pebble and dropping it into thewater, "it is like the bubble that rises to burst, or the sound of myvoice that dies as soon away. Thereon waste I not a thought, except toprepare me for the coming of my Lord. "

"You think, then, this solitary life the best preparation you can makefor the next?"

"Yes, " said Holden; "I work not my own will. Can the clay say to thepotter, what doest thou? Behold, I am in the hand of One wiser andmightier than I. Nor hath he left me without duties to perform. I amone crying in the wilderness, and though the people heed not, yet mustthe faithful witness cry. I have a work to perform, and how is my soulstraitened until it be done? Canst thou not thyself see, by whathath happened to-day, some reason why the solitary is upon his lonelyisland? Had he loved the crowded haunts of men, a fellow-being had, perhaps, perished. "

The allusion to the occurrence of the morning recalled the doctor'sattention to the purpose for which he had left the chamber, and whichhe had forgotten, in listening to the talk of the enthusiast. Henow directed the conversation to the subject of the wound, and heardHolden's account. He became convinced, both from his statement, andfrom a few words Pownal himself had dropped, as well as from the sightof the gun which Holden had picked up, and found just discharged, thatthe wounding was accidental, and occasioned by the young man's ownfowling-piece. Having satisfied himself on this point, the doctor, with his companion, re-entered the hut. It was only to give a fewparting directions to Bernard, to enjoin quiet upon his patient, andto take leave of him, which he did, in the words of his favorite--

 "Fare thee well! The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort. "

CHAPTER III. 

 Ici il fallut que j'en divinasse plus qu'on ne m'en disoit. MEMOIRES DE SULLY. 

A week after the events narrated in the preceding chapters, a smallcompany was collected in a parlor of one of the houses of Hillsdale. It consisted of a gentleman, of some fifty years of age; his wife, afine-looking matron, some years his junior; their daughter, a brightblue-eyed flaxen-haired girl, rounding into the most graceful form ofwomanhood, and a young man, who is not entirely a stranger to us. 

The judgment of the doctor, respecting the wound of Pownal--for it ishe--had proved to be correct, and, on the second day after the hurt, he had returned to the village, with his friend William Bernard, inthe house of whose father he was, for the present, domiciliated. Theyoung men had been acquainted before, and the accident seemed to haveestablished a sort of intimacy between them. It was, therefore, withno feeling of reluctance, that Pownal accepted an invitation to deserthis boarding-house for a while, for the hospitality of his friend. Perhaps, his decision was a little influenced by the remembrance ofthe blue eyes of Miss Bernard, and of the pleasant effect which, fromtheir first acquaintance, they had exerted upon him. However thatmay be, it is certain, that, although somewhat paler than usual, heappeared to be quite contented with his condition. 

It was evening, and candles were lighted, and Mr. Bernard, or ashe was more commonly, or, indeed, almost universally, called, JudgeBernard, from having been one of the judges of the Superior Court, wassitting in an arm-chair, reading a newspaper; Mrs. Bernard was busywith her knitting; the young lady employed upon one of those piecesof needle-work, which, in those days, were seldom out of female hands, and Pownal looking at her all he dared, and listening to an occasionalparagraph read by the Judge from his newspaper. 

"You are the cause of quite a sensation in our little community, Thomas, " said the Judge, laying down his spectacles and newspaperat the same time. "Mr. Editor Peters and the gossips ought to beinfinitely obliged to you for wounding yourself, and affording him anopportunity to display his inventive genius and the brilliancy of hisimagination, and giving them something to talk about. Here, Anne, readthe article aloud for our edification. "

The young lady ran her eye hastily down the column, and could notrestrain her laughter. 

"Excuse me, papa, " she said, "it is too much for my poor nerves. Onlythink of it; Mr. Peters loads Mr. Pownal's gun with sixteen buck-shot, topples him off a precipice twenty feet high, breaks three of hisribs, and makes a considerable incision in his skull. Never was theresuch a wonderful escape. It is too horrible. "

"How the newspapers are given to big stories!" said Mrs. Bernard. 

"I dare say, " cried Anne, "the editor has authority for what hesays, for now that my attention is drawn to it, I think there mustbe something in the incision. Have you not remarked, mamma, that Mr. Pownal is at times light-headed?"

"Anne!" exclaimed her mother, smiling, "I am ashamed to hear a younggirl rattle on so. "

"I am not aware of being more light-headed than usual, " said Pownal, "but I am certain no one can be in Miss Bernard's company, and not belight-hearted. "

"Very prettily spoken! Mr. Thomas Pownal is practising his wit upon acountry maiden, in order to be in training when he returns to open thecampaign among the New York ladies. "

"I am too happy here, " said Pownal, in a low tone, "to wish to returnto the city. "

An almost imperceptible blush suffused the cheeks of Miss Bernard. Shelooked up from the newspaper, but her eyes encountering those of theyoung man, instantly fell. 

"What fine speeches are you making to one another?" broke in theJudge. "My dear, do not hold down your head. It throws the blood intoyour face. "

"Papa, " cried his daughter, desirous to divert attention from herself, "can you find nothing instructing in the paper to read to us? Is thereno report of any speech?"

"Speeches, indeed! Thank Heaven, there is no speech in this paper. The session of Congress has not commenced, and the deluge of words, incomparison with which Noah's flood was a summer's shower, therefore, not begun. Why, my dear little daughter, do you remind me of thenational calamity?"

"To atone for the offence, papa, let me tell you that Mr. Armstrongand Faith promised to come to see us this evening, and from the soundof the opening of the front gate, I suspect they are close at hand. "

Anne's conjecture proved true, for shortly after the expected visitorswere announced, and the usual greetings having passed, they were allsoon seated. 

But before proceeding further, it may not be amiss to give somedescription of persons destined to play a not unimportant part in ourstory. 

Mr. Armstrong was of middle age, of the ordinary stature, and with aface which still possessed great beauty. A noble brow, hair originallyblack, but prematurely grey, large dark eyes, a straight nose, anda well-formed mouth, over which played an expression of benevolence, made an exterior of exceeding attractiveness, and it would have beenan unmixed pleasure to gaze upon his gracious presence, but for an airof dejection amounting to suffering, which had of late been increasingupon him. He seldom smiled, and when he did the smile was oftensucceeded by a dark shadow, as if he felt compunction for trespassingon the precints of gaiety. 

Faith strongly resembled her father, as well in externals as in thecharacter of her mind. Her figure was slender, approaching even todelicacy, though without any appearance of sickliness. Her face, paleand thoughtful usually, was sometimes lighted up with an enthusiasmmore angelic than human. Her mother having died when she was too youngto appreciate the loss, she had concentrated upon her father all thatlove which is generally divided between two parents. Nor was it witha feeling of love only she regarded him. With it was mixed a sentimentof reverence amounting almost to idolatry. No opinion, no thought, no word, no look of his but had for her a value. And richly was theaffection of the child returned by the father, and proud was he ofher, notwithstanding his struggles against the feeling as somethingsinful. 

It was the first time since the accident to Pownal that Mr. Armstrongor his daughter had seen him, and the conversation naturally turnedupon the danger he had incurred. 

"It was a providential escape, " said Mr. Armstrong. "It is astonishinghow many dangers we run into, and our escapes may be considered asso many daily miracles to prove the interposition of a controllingProvidence. There are few persons who cannot look back upon severalsuch in the course of their lives. "

"You are right, my friend, " said the Judge. "I can recall half a dozenin my own experience; and if some have had fewer, some, doubtless, have had more. "

"These accidents are, I suspect, the consequences of our owncarelessness in nine cases out of ten, " said Pownal. "At any rate, Iam sure it was my carelessness that occasioned mine. "

"You speak as if it could have been avoided, " said Mr. Armstrong. 

"Certainly. Do you not think so?"

"I am not sure of it, " said Mr. Armstrong. "There appears to be achain which links events together in an inevitable union. The verycarelessness of which you accuse yourself may be the means purposelyused to bring about important events. "

"It has brought about very agreeable events for me, " said Pownal. "Iam only afraid, from the care lavished upon me, I shall be tempted tothink too much of myself. "

"It has scattered pleasure all around, then, " said Mrs. Bernard, kindly. 

"Yes, " said the Judge; "any attention we can render is more thanrepaid by the pleasure Mr. Pownal's presence imparts. If he shouldever think more highly of himself than we do, he will be a very vainperson. "

The young man could only bow, and with a gratified countenance returnhis thanks for their kindness. 

"Your adventure was also the means, " said Mr. Armstrong, "of makingyou acquainted with our anchorite. Did you not find him an interestingperson?"

"More than interesting, " replied Pownal. "From the moment he took meinto his arms as if I had been a child, and with all the tenderness ofa mother, I felt strangely attracted to him. I shall always rememberwith pleasure the two days I spent in his cabin, and mean to cultivatehis acquaintance if he will permit me. "

"He is evidently a man of refinement and education, " said Armstrong, "who, for reasons of his own, has adopted his peculiar mode of life. It was a long time before I could be said to be acquainted with him, but the more I know him, the better I like him. He and Faith are greatfriends. "

"I value his friendship highly and am glad he made so favorable animpression on you, Mr. Pownal, " said Faith. 

"I do believe, " cried Anne, "Faith could not reverence him more if hewere one of the old prophets. "

"If not a prophet, " said Faith, "he is at least a noble and good man, and that is the highest title to respect. He takes an interest in you, too, Mr. Pownal, for Anne tells me he has been to see you. "

"My preserver has been here several times to make inquiries after myhealth, " answered Pownal. "He was here this morning. "

"And preaching about the kingdom, " said Judge Bernard. "What a strangeinfatuation to look for the end of the world each day. "

"He errs in the interpretation of the prophecies, " said Mr. Armstrong, "when he finds in them prognostics of the speedy destruction of theworld, but does he mistake the personal application? Who knows whenhe may be called to face his judge? Youth, and health, and strength, furnish no immunity against death. "

"But what a gloom this daily expectation of an event which the wisestand stoutest hearted are unable to contemplate without trepidation, casts over life, " said the Judge. 

"Not in his case, " replied Armstrong. "On the contrary, I am satisfiedhe would hail it with a song of thanksgiving, and I think I haveobserved he is sometimes impatient of the delay. "

"It is well his notions are only crazy fancies as absurd as his beard. His appearance is very heathenish, " said Mrs. Bernard. 

"Taste, my dear, " exclaimed the Judge, "all taste. Why, I have agreat mind to wear a beard myself. It would be a prodigious comfort todispense with the razor in cold winter mornings, to say nothing of theornament. And now that I think of it, it is just the season to begin. "

"You would look like a bear, Mr. Bernard, " said his wife. 

"It would be too near an imitation of the old Puritans for you, Judge, " said Faith. 

"You, at least, my little Puritan, " cried the Judge, "would notobject. But do not fancy that in avoiding Scylla I _must_ run uponCharybdis. Be sure I would not imitate the trim moustaches and peakedchins of those old dandies, Winthrop and Endicott. I prefer the fullflowing style of Wykliffe and Cranmer. "

"We should then have two Holdens, " exclaimed Mrs. Bernard, "and thatwould be more than our little village could live through. "

"Fancy papa running an opposition beard against Mr. Holden!" saidAnne. 

The idea was sufficiently ludicrous to occasion a general laugh, andeven Armstrong smiled. 

"I am a happy man, " said the Judge; "not only mirthful, myself, butthe cause of mirth in others. What a beam of light is a smile, what aglory like a sunrise is a laugh!"

"That will do, Judge Bernard, that will do, " said his wife; "do nottry again, for you cannot jump so high twice. "

"Tut, tut, Mary; what do you know about the higher poetics? I defy youto find such sublimities either in Milton or Dante. "

"I can easily believe it, " said Mrs. Bernard. 

At this moment some other visitors entering the room, the conversationtook another turn; and Mr. Armstrong and his daughter having remaineda short time longer, took leave and returned home. Let us follow thedeparting visitors. 

Upon his return, Mr. Armstrong sank upon a seat with an air ofweariness. 

"Come, Faith, " he said, "and sit by me and hold my hand. I have beenthinking this evening of the insensibility of the world to theircondition. How few perceive the precipice on the edge of which theystand!"

His daughter, who was accustomed to these sombre reflections, bentover, and bringing his hand to her lips, kissed it without sayinganything, knowing that he would soon explain himself more perfectly. 

"Which, " continued Armstrong, "is wiser, the thoughtless frivolity ofJudge Bernard, or the sad watchfulness of Holden?"

"I am not competent to judge, dear father; but if they both actaccording to their convictions of right, are they not doing theirduty?"

"You ask a difficult question. To be sure men must act according totheir ideas of right, but let them beware how they get them, and whatthey are. Yet, can one choose his ideas? These things puzzle me?"

"What else can we do, " inquired his daughter, "than live by the lightwe have? Surely I cannot be responsible for my involuntary ignorance. "

"How far we may be the cause of the ignorance we call involuntary, it is impossible to determine. A wrong act, an improper thought, belonging to years ago and even repented of since, may projectits dark shadow into the present, and pervert the judgment. We arefearfully made. "

"Why pain yourself, dearest father, with speculations of thischaracter? Our Maker knows our weakness and will pardon ourinfirmities. "

"I am an illustration of the subject of our conversation, " continuedArmstrong, after a pause of a few minutes, during which he hadremained meditating, with his head resting on his hand. "I know Iwould not, willingly, harshly judge another--for who authorized me topass sentence? Yet these ideas would force themselves into my mind;and how have I spoken of our kind and excellent neighbor! There issomething wrong in myself which I must struggle to correct. "

We communicate only enough of the conversation to give an idea ofthe state of Mr. Armstrong's mind at the time. At the usual familydevotions that night he prayed fervently for forgiveness of his error, repeatedly upbraiding himself with presumption and uncharitableness, and entreating that he might not be left to his own vain imaginations. 

CHAPTER IV. 

 O! I could whisper thee a tale, That surely would thy pity move, But what would idle words avail, Unless the heart might speak its love?

 To tell that tale my pen were weak, My tongue its office, too, denies, Then mark it on my varying cheek, And read it in my languid eyes. ANONYMOUS. 

After the expiration of a fortnight, Pownal could find no excuses tosatisfy even himself with remaining longer at Judge Bernard's. Thevisit had been, indeed, one of great enjoyment, and gladly would hehave availed himself of the pressing invitation of his host to prolongit, could he have conjured up any reason for doing so. Lightly wouldhe have esteemed and cheerfully welcomed another wound like that fromwhich he was recovering, could the pleasure have been thus purchased. The truth is that within a few days he had been conscious of a feelingof which he had never before suspected himself, and it was thisfeeling that made him so reluctant to depart. And yet, when, in thesilence of his chamber, and away from the blue eyes of Anne Bernard, he reflected upon his position, he was obliged to confess, with asigh, that prudence required he should leave a society as dangerousas it was sweet. To be in the same house with her, to breathe the sameair, to read the same books, to hear her voice was a luxury it washard to forego, but in proportion to the difficulty was the necessity. Besides he could not avoid fancying that young Bernard, though notcold, was hardly as cordial as formerly, and that he would regardwith satisfaction a separation from his sister. Nor had he reason tosuppose that she looked upon him with feelings other than those whichshe entertained for any other acquaintance standing to her in thesame relation as himself. Beyond the ordinary compliments and littleattentions which the manners of the day permitted, nothing had passedbetween them, and though satisfied he was not an object of aversion, he knew as well that she had never betrayed any partiality for him. Meanwhile, his own feelings were becoming interested, beyond, perhaps, the power of control, the sooner, therefore, he weaned himself fromthe delightful fascination, the better for his peace of mind. 

Thomas Pownal was comparatively a stranger in the neighborhood, onlytwo or three months having elapsed since he had been sent by themercantile firm of Bloodgood, Pownal, & Co. , of New York, to takecharge of a branch of their business at Hillsdale. Even in that shortspace of time, by his affable manners and attention to business he hadwon his way to the respect and esteem of the good people of the town, and was looked upon as one likely to succeed in the lottery of life. No one was more welcome, by reason of his amiable character, to thoseof his own age, while his steadiness recommended him to his elders. But his family was unknown, though he was supposed to be a distantrelation of the second member of the firm, nor had he any visiblemeans of subsistence except the very respectable salary, which, asa confidential clerk, he received from his employers, on whom hisprospects of success depended. The chasm, therefore, betwixt the onlydaughter of the wealthy Mr. Bernard and himself, was wide--wide enoughto check even an overweening confidence. But such it was not in thenature of Pownal to feel. He was sensible of the full force ofthe difficulties he had to encounter; to his modesty they seemedinsuperable, and he determined to drive from his heart a sentimentthat, in his despondency, he blamed himself for allowing to find aplace there. 

It took him some days to form the resolution, and after it was formed, it was not easy to carry it into effect. More than once he had beenon the point of returning thanks for the kindness he had received, and avowing his intention to depart, but it seemed as if the veriesttrifle were sufficient to divert him from his purpose. If Mr. Bernardspoke of the satisfaction he derived from his company, if Mrs. Bernarddeclared she should miss him when he left; or if Anne's radiantface looked thanks for his reading aloud, they were all so manysolicitations to delay his departure. The treacherous heart readilylistened to the seduction, however much the judgment might disapprove. But, as we have seen, a time had come when the voice of prudence couldno longer be silenced, and, however unwillingly, must be obeyed. He, therefore, took occasion, one morning, at the breakfast table, toannounce his intended departure. 

"Had I been a son, " he said, in conclusion, "you could not havelavished more kindness upon me, and I shall never forget it. "

"What! what!" cried the Judge, "I am not sure that the shooting one'sself is a bailable offence, and I shall be obliged to examine theauthorities, before I discharge you from custody, Master Thomas. "

"To think, " said Mrs. Bernard, "it does not seem a week since youcame, and we have all been so happy. I declare, Mr. Pownal, I shallnot know how to do without you. "

"The dearest friends must part--but we shall always be glad to seeyou, Tom, " said William Bernard. 

"I do not see the necessity for your going, " said the Judge. "Ourhouse is large enough for all; your attacks at table are not yet veryformidable; and I have not taught you whist perfectly. Would it notbe better to substitute a _curia vult avisare_ in place of a decision?But, Anne, have you nothing to say? Is this your gratitude for allThomas's martyrdoms of readings of I know not what unimaginablenonsense; and holdings of skeins of silk, more difficult to unwindthan the labyrinth through which Ariadne's thread conducted Theseus;and pickings up of whatever your feminine carelessness chose to dropon the carpet; and endurance of all the legions of annoyances withwhich young ladies delight to harass young gentlemen? Have you nobacking for your mother and me? One word from you ought to be worth athousand from us old folks. "

"Mr. Pownal owes me some gratitude, too, father, " said Anne, "for thepatience and accomplishments I have taught him. But he surely knowshow much pleasure his presence confers on all in this house. We shallmiss him very much, shall we not, Beau?"--addressing a little spanielthat, upon being spoken to, sat up on his hind legs to beg forbreakfast. 

"I have several times endeavored to say this before, " said Pownal, somewhat piqued, and feeling a strong desire to kick the innocentcur out of the room, "but have never been able to muster sufficientcourage. And now, if my thanks appear cold, as I am afraid they do toMiss Bernard, I assure her it is not the fault of my heart, but of mytongue. "

"Hearts and tongues!" exclaimed the Judge. "The former belong to theladies' department; the latter to mine. Yet, I fancy I know somethingabout hearts, too; and yours, Thomas, I am sure, is adequate securityfor your words. "

"You are very good, sir, " said Pownal, "and I can only wish that allparticipated in your undeserved partiality. "

Anne was vexed with herself for having spoken in so trifling a manner. The frigid politeness of her brother's speech, too, had not escapedher notice. It seemed to her now, that she had been wantonly rude. Shehastened, therefore, to repair the fault. 

"Mr. Pownal mistakes, " she said, "if he thinks me unmindful of thepleasant hours his unfortunate accident procured us. And I am sure Ishould be a monster of ingratitude, " she added smiling, and relapsing, in spite of herself, into the very trifling she had condemned, "if Idid not remember, with lively emotions, his skill at holding silk andyarn. "

"Well, whenever you want a reel, send for me, " said Pownal, "and Ishall only be too happy to come. "

"Take care, my good fellow, " said the Judge, "she does not wind youup, too. "

"I should be too happy--" began Pownal. 

"For shame, father, " cried Anne, laughing, and rising from the table. "The young men have quite spoiled you, of late. Good-bye; you havefinished your last cup of coffee, and have no longer need of me. " Sosaying, she hastened out of the room. 

It was with mutual regret that the parting took place, and not withoutmany promises required of the young man that he would frequently visitthe family. His landlady, Mrs. Brown, was, as usual, all smiles, andwelcomes, and congratulations on his return; notwithstanding which, itwas with a sense of loneliness, amounting almost to desolation, thather lodger found himself installed again in his apartments. It seemedlike passing out of the golden sunshine into a gloomy cavern. Was itpossible that two short weeks could have produced so great a change inhim? When he thought upon the cause, the conscious blush revealed itsnature. "No, " said he, aloud, as he paced backwards and forwardsin the room, "this is folly and madness. For me, a humble clerk, toconnect myself, even in imagination, with _her_! What have I to offerher? Or what even in prospect? I have been sailing in the clouds, and my tattered balloon is precipitated to the earth--I have beendreaming. How delicious was the dream! But I am now awake, and willnever expose myself to the mortification of ----. I have been foolish. No, not so; for, who could come within the range of such fascinations, and not be charmed? But what, after all, are they to me? I willresist this weakness, and learn to regard her as only any other valuedacquaintance; for, alas! she can never be more. "

In such incoherent expressions, poor Pownal gave vent to the emotionsthat agitated him. It would have been some consolation, could he haveknown what was said at the Bernards', when the family gathered aroundthe table in the evening. Mrs. Bernard alluded more than once to thegap his absence made in their little circle; and the Judge, in hisjesting way, wished that somebody would shoot him again, if it mightbe the means to bring him back. Even Anne expressed regret at hisloss, since his company had been such a pleasure to her parents. 

CHAPTER V. 

 "Groves freshened, as he looked, and flowers Showed bright on rocky bank, And fountains welled beneath the bowers, Where deer and pheasant drank; He saw the glittering streams, he heard The rustling bough and twittering bird. "

 BRYANT. 

The mind of Ohquamehud dwelt upon his meeting with Holden. Sleeping orwaking, the image of the latter pursued him. But it was not alwaysin the shape of the Recluse that the vision appeared. More often itassumed the form of a young man, in the garb of a western hunter, witha rifle in his hand. Then rose up, in connection with him, boundlessforests, through which the deer stole noiselessly, and the screechof the catamount was heard. And then again he hunted, and as heapproached the game he had shot, Holden approached and claimed it ashis; or he was on a war-path, and stumbled against a log, and fell;and as he strove to rise, the log was changed into Holden, whograppled him in a death-struggle--wherever he was, and whithersoeverhe turned his eyes, there was the young man, seeming to be, andyet not to be Holden, and haunting him like a shadow. As theseimaginations possessed themselves more and more of the Indian's mind, he began to fancy himself the victim of some incantation, with whichhe naturally connected the Recluse as the cause; and, finally, by continual brooding on the subject, both his appetite and sleepdeserted him. His moodiness at length attracted the attention ofPeéna. Ohquamehud was lying on the floor of her hut, his head restingon his hand, and he had been for some time gazing in the fire. Thesimple noon-day meal had barely been tasted, and that in silence. 

"Have the hands of Peéna, " she said, "forgot how to prepare his food, that the eyes of my brother turn away from it with displeasure?"

"The hands of my sister have not lost their skill, but Ohquamehud isnot hungry. "

"Ohquamehud is a warrior, and Peéna is but a weak woman, and he willnot be angry, " she added, hesitatingly. 

The Indian waved his hand, with dignity, as if inviting her toproceed. 

"Ohquamehud sees the heart of his sister, and he knows that it loveshim, for he is the brother of Huttamoiden. Why does he cover up hisface from her, and hide his grief? Is she unworthy, " she added, layingher hand on his shoulder, and looking affectionately in his face, "tolisten to his voice?"

He turned towards her, and paused before he said--

"The stone in the path of Ohquamehud is very small, and will not hurthis feet. "

"Peéna, then, will try to remove it. She has strength to move smallstones. "

She ceased, and continued looking at him, without adding a word, as ifshe had said enough, and awaited a reply. 

"Why should Ohquamehud speak?" he said, at last; "the breath of theLong Beard will blow away his words. "

A look of vacancy overspread the face of the squaw, as if she failedto apprehend his meaning. 

"My brother's words are dark, " she said. 

"Has not the powawing of the Long Beard brought back the spiritof Huttamoiden's cub from the happy hunting-grounds, and does not, therefore, the face of Peéna turn to him as the sun-flower to thesun?"

"The Great Spirit loves the Long Beard, and the Long Beard loves hisred brethren. "

"What! a Yenghese love an Indian? Yes, as a wild-cat loves the deerwhen he sucks his blood, as the water loves the fire it extinguishes. The lips of Peéna speak foolishness. "

"If Peéna feel grateful to the Long Beard, why should that anger herbrother? Could he look into her heart, he would see his face as in aclear stream. "

It was not in human nature to withstand the soft voice and pleadinglooks of the woman. The momentary fierceness passed away from thecountenance of the Indian, a milder expression assumed its place, and, in a gentle tone, he said--

"Peéna shall hear. She is like a stone which, when spoken to, repeatsnot what is said, and not like a brook that sings an idle song. Mywords shall enter her ears, but they will not descend to her tongue. Listen! the Manitou has troubled my thoughts, and sent a bird to tellme, that the hands of the Long Beard are red with the blood of mybrothers. "

"It was a lying bird, " she exclaimed vehemently; "it was an owl thathooted untruth from the dark. When lifted the Long Beard a hatchetagainst my tribe?"

"The voice was as the voice of the waterfall, " he continued. "It spokeindistinctly, and I understood but half. "

"Why should not Ohquamehud talk with the Long Beard? The words of eachshall be sweet to the other, and they will learn to have one heart. "

"It is well, " said the Indian, "Peéna is a wise woman, and Ohquamehudwill speak with the white man. "

It needed only the suggestion of the squaw to carry into effect aresolution already more than half adopted. 

The Indian rose, and proceeding to the river, which was but a dozenrods distant from the hut, unloosed a canoe, and directing its courseup the stream, was lost, in a few moments, from her view. 

The appearance of Ohquamehud indicated no hostility when he presentedhimself before the Recluse, whom he found weaving baskets in frontof his cabin, nor did his visit seem to surprise the latter. For aninstant the Indian looked with disdain upon an employment which hiswild education had taught him was fit only for women; but suppressingthe expression of a sentiment that might have interfered with hispurpose, with a quiet dignity, and, as if in answer to a wave ofHolden's hand, he seated himself on a large stone by his side. Fora time he was silent, as if either out of deference to the superioryears of the other, or because he wished to collect his thoughtsbefore he began the conversation. Finding, however, he could obtainfrom the Solitary no further sign of recognition, he spoke in his ownlanguage. 

"My brother has a big heart. He is making gifts for the beautifulwomen of his nation. "

"Indian, " replied Holden, "think not to deceive me. At this momentthou considerest this an occupation unfit for a man. "

"My brother has very long eyes. They can see the woodpecker on therotten tree across the river, but they reach not here, " laying hishand upon his breast. "The Holder of the Heavens loves not to seethings alike. He therefore made the leaf of the oak to differ fromthat of the hickory, and the pine from both, and also the white racefrom the red. And, for the same reason, he taught the white man tomake big lodges of wood, and brick and stone, and to swim over thewaters in large canoes with wings: while to the red man he gave theforests and prairies, with the deer, and bear, and buffalo, and causedhim to dwell in very small wigwams made of bark. And so, also, hetaught my white brother to weave beautiful baskets, but denied theskill to my father's son. "

The Indian must have supposed he had seriously offended his newacquaintance, to induce him thus elaborately to attempt to averthis suspicions. However that might be, the Solitary resumed theconversation as though he felt no resentment. 

"There is wisdom in thy speech. The Great Spirit loves variety, and itis he that maketh men to differ. But there was once a time many moonsago, when thy ancestors builded great houses and dwelt in cities, andsailed over the seas in winged-canoes. "

The Indian cast a quick, sharp glance at the Solitary, as if he wishedto read his very soul. For a moment he looked as though he doubted theevidence of his senses. But recovering his composure, he said:

"The thoughts of my brother are very high, and his voice like thesound of a great wind. "

"Thou comprehendest me not. Know then, Indian, that innumerable yearsago, there lived far towards the rising sun, twelve tribes, called the'Children of Israel, ' whom the Master of Life greatly loved. And theyhad wise and brave Sachems, who led them to battle, and their feetwere red with the blood of their enemies. But they became wicked, andwould not hearken unto the words of the Great Spirit, and He turnedhis face away from them. So their enemies came upon them, anddespoiled them, and drove them from the land. Two of the tribes stilllinger near the rising sun, but ten wandered far away into distantcountries, and they are thy fathers. "

The Indian listened with great attention, and upon the other pausing, said:

"Has the Manitou told all these things to my brother?"

"No, Indian; the Great Spirit speaks not now to his people as he didwhen the world was young. But, " he added, as if struck with the follyof continuing a conversation of this character, "the path is long thatled me to this truth, and it would weary thy feet to travel it. "

"My brother is wise, and cannot lie, and I am a child. My ears drinkin his words. The legs of my brother are long, and he has been a greattraveller. Was it near the rising sun he learned the language of thered man?"

"Indian, I have never been nearer the rising sun than thou. But tellme the object of thy visit. Why dost thou seek me now, when but a fewdays since thou didst chide the squaw for her willingness to obligeme?"

"The lips of Ohquamehud spoke folly. He did not then know that thisbrother had talked to the Master of Life, who granted to him the lifeof Huttamoiden's child. The blood of Huttamoiden runs in these veins. "

The explanation was perfectly natural, and whatever suspicion hadarisen in Holden's mind vanished. It seemed not surprising that theIndian, who also, by uttering his name, had proclaimed himself aPequot, should be willing to form the acquaintance of one who hadproved himself a friend to his tribe, and probably was invested in hisimagination with the qualities of a "great medicine. " But, thoughto Holden's high-wrought fancies, the recovery of the boy had seemedmiraculous, and he could not avoid connecting his prayers with it, yet he shrank from directly claiming so great a power as the Indianascribed to him. 

"The issues of life and death are with the Great Spirit, " he said. "Athis pleasure he breathes into our nostrils, and we live; or he turnsaway his face, and we die. Let not my brother give too much credit toa worm. "

The wily Indian, from the other's altered tone and manner, perceivedhis advantage, and was not slow to use it. 

"Because my white brother loved his red brethren, he sought them intheir lodges, and there they taught him their language. So when theboy was departing for the happy hunting grounds, my brother rememberedtheir kindness, and held the child by the hand, and would not let himgo. "

The face of the Solitary worked with emotion while the other wasspeaking. 

"Would that I could explain, " he said. "But thou art unable tounderstand. How canst thou know a Christian heart?"

"The heart of Ohquamehud is a man's. "

"Aye; but a savage knows not, and despises forgiveness. I was astately pine, whose branches mingled with the clouds, and the birdscame and lodged therein. And a storm arose, and thunders rolled, and the lightning struck it, and its pride and glory tumbled to theground. And it was burnt up, all save this blasted trunk. " He utteredthis with a wild frenzy, and as if hardly conscious of the presence ofanother. 

"Doth the lightning fall from a clear sky?" said the Indian, aftera pause. "It is long since a black cloud burst over the ancienthunting-grounds of the Pequots. "

"Where the streams run toward the setting sun, the thunderbolt struck. Why was it not me instead of those dearer to me than life?"

"A bird hath sung to Ohquamehud that the land is pleasant, and thehunter only extends his hand to find something to savor his broth andto cover his feet. "

"It is a land of streams, and mountains, and forests, and the deerand the bear still are plenty. When the Creator made it, he smiledand pronounced it good; and there, as in your fabled hunting-grounds, might men be blessed but for their passions. "

"The red man loves his friend, and hates his enemy. "

"To hate is a devilish feeling. It comes not from the Good Spirit. "

Ohquamehud rose and stood before Holden. It seemed to his bold andferocious temper, that he could not, without cowardice, hear assailedand not vindicate, a principle that had been inculcated upon him fromyouth, and formed a sacred portion of his creed. As he stood up, theblanket fell in graceful folds from his shoulders, around his person, and he stretched out a hand to solicit attention. 

"Listen, " he said; "the tongue of Ohquamehud is one: it will speak thetruth. Because the Great Spirit loved his children, he made them tolove and to hate, and both are pleasant. The south wind is sweet whenit comes in spring to tell that winter is past and the starved Indianneed no longer shiver over the fire; and sweet are the kisses ofWullogana to Ohquamehud, and dear are the voices of his little oneswhen they meet him from the chase, but sweeter than the sighs of thewind of spring, or the caresses of Wullogana, or the laughter ofhis children, is it to strike an enemy. His flesh is good, for itstrengthens a red heart. The wolf will never become a lamb, and thewolf is the totem of my clan. Ohquamehud has said. "

It would be impossible to describe the conflicting emotions of Holdenduring this savage speech. Whatever might have been the wild incidentsof his youth, or whatever his wrongs and sufferings, the time was longpast, and he had supposed all stormy passion subdued, and his heartchastised to resignation and submission. He listened at first withunmixed horror to the Indian's declaration, but as the savage went on, the words became more and more indistinct, till they lost all meaningor were converted into other sounds, and, as in a dream, made thealiment of his thoughts. The whole conversation, and the very languagein which they spoke, contributed to produce this state of mind. Lostto all around, his soul was far away. He saw a cabin beside a mountaintorrent, overshadowed by immense trees. It was summer, and the birdswere singing among the branches. The door of the cabin opened, and ayoung and beautiful white woman stepped out, holding a child by thehand. Suddenly it was night, and the cabin on fire, and he heard theyells of savages, and saw them like so many demons dancing round theflames; then hush, all again was still, and darkness brooded over thespot, lighted only by a flickering brand. 

The bosom of Holden heaved convulsively, and his brain reeled. 

The Indian watched his changing countenance with an eager look asif he revelled in his agony. Not a hard drawn breath, not a singleexpression escaped his notice. He saw the eyes of the Solitary flash, then settle into a dreamy gaze as if looking into a dim, unfathomabledistance, then shut, as if he tried to exclude some horrid sight. Suddenly, with a shudder, Holden sprang to his feet. 

"Accursed Shawnees, " he cried; "they have done this deed. But forevery drop of blood they shed a river shall flow. Dog!" and he seizedthe Indian with a strength to which madness lent additional force, anddashed him to the ground, "thou art first delivered into my hand. "

He staggered toward the fallen man--stopped--glared at him a momentand with a wild cry rushed into the hut. 

The Indian, who had immediately risen from the fall, and stood withfolded arms regarding his motions, slowly gathered up his disorderedblanket about him and stalked towards the canoe. A gleam of ferocityshot over his face as he resumed the paddle, and softly breathing thesingle word "Onontio, " pushed from the shore. 

CHAPTER VI. 

 I will pursue to death this spiteful knight: Not earth's low centre, nor sea's deepest part, Nor heaven, nor hell, can shield him from my might: I will o'ertake him, take him, cleave his heart. FAIRFAX' TASSO. 

The suspicions of the Indian were confirmed beyond a doubt. It was, perhaps, the voice and accent of the Solitary in his native tonguethat at first attracted his attention and induced him to try theexperiment which resulted as we have seen. He must have had or fanciedthat he had a cause of deadly hatred of long standing against Holden. It is impossible otherwise to explain his conduct. But no length oftime can erase the recollection of an injury from the mind of a NorthAmerican Indian. He cherishes it as something never to be parted with, and would feel degraded in his own estimation were he to forgive. Revenge is the central sun round which his spirit revolves; and togratify the feeling no hardships are too severe. For such a purposehe will traverse, with an unerring instinct, pathless forests forhundreds of miles, swim wide rivers, climb lofty mountains, sleep, unrepining, on the bare ground, exposed to all vicissitudes of heatand cold, supporting himself by the chase and fishing, and sustainedthroughout by his vindictive passion and the glory he connects withits gratification. The kindness shown by Holden to his sister andher son, and the reverence with which she regarded him, it mightbe expected would have influenced Ohquamehud; but they had no sucheffect. To the kindness he ascribed a sinister motive; and of course, Peéna's gratitude was misplaced. It was therefore with a fiendish joyunalloyed by misgivings, that he brooded over the means to accomplishhis purpose. 

He dared not communicate it to Peéna. He understood her gentlenature too well to suppose that, under any circumstances, she couldsympathize with him, even though she felt no sense of obligation toHolden; and, besides, he distrusted her as one who had abandoned thefaith of her fathers. For, although no Christian in the proper importof the word, the sweet and purifying influences of Christianity hadnot been wholly thrown away upon Peéna. She had many friends in theneighboring village who had been attracted by her gentle temper andmodesty, conspicuous among whom was Faith Armstrong. Hence, when shecame to the village, as not unfrequently was the case, in order tosell the berries she had gathered in the fields, or pretty basketsstained with such lively colors as the simple skill of the Indiansknew how to extract from roots and the bark of trees, it seldomhappened that she returned without having made Faith a visit. On suchoccasions the enthusiastic girl would strive to inform her on pointsof religion which, to her own mind, were of the highest importance. Peéna would listen, and never contradict, though, it is probable, sheunderstood but little of what to Faith's apprehension was clear. 

It was impossible, however, not to derive benefit from such meetings. None could be in the presence of Faith without being influenced bythe atmosphere of goodness in which she moved. And, indeed, that sheherself derived pleasure from the presence of Peéna, was evidence ofthe gentle worth of the latter. 

No wonder then that Ohquamehud determined to conceal his fell purposein his own heart. When, therefore, with the quiet step peculiar to hisrace, he glided into her hut, just before the setting of the sun, hehad chased the traces of passion from his brow, and met her with acalm and satisfied mien. So perfect was the dissimulation that evenone less guileless than the woman would have been deceived. In thepresent case, the preoccupation of her mind in Holden's favor made iteasier. 

"My brother, " she said, with a pleased expression, as she caught sightof his altered appearance, "is like the sky in summer when not a cloudis to be seen. "

"The cloud has left the sky of Ohquamehud. "

This was said with a natural and easy air, as if all suspicion werebanished from his mind; nor was the subject further adverted to. 

The time at which the children of nature retire to rest, is not thatobserved by the artificially-cultivated man. For them, the hours oflight and darkness mark out the periods for action and repose. It wasthen still early in the evening, when a heavy breathing in the hut ofPeéna indicated the sleep of its inmates. Ohquamehud had listenedfor it, and having waited until the breathing became deep and full toassure him of the profoundness of the slumber, he sat up on his couchand looked cautiously around. The brands were smouldering in theashes with a dim flickering light, but sufficient to direct and givecertainty to his movements. With a step so noiseless that the acutestear would not have detected it, he crossed the floor, took his riflefrom the corner where it had been placed, with equal caution openedthe door, and stood in the open air. 

It was a clear star-lit night, and on the placid bosom of the watershone one star larger and brighter than the rest, as if to light himon his way. But it was all unobserved by the Indian. He had no eyes, no ears, no senses, except for the crime he was about to commit. Tohim, no crime, but a heroic act. Slowly, and measuring each step asthough a thousand ears were listening, he proceeded in the directionof the canoe, untied it, and softly pushed it into the stream. As hetook his seat the dip of his paddle made no sound, and thus, stern asan iron statue, and almost as still, he paddled on. 

And now Ohquamehud approached the island. He stopped his paddle andheld his breath, and listened. Not a living sound was to be heard, not even the cry of a night bird; nothing save the soft flowing of thewater against the shore. Like an eagle circling round and round beforehe pounces on his quarry, the Indian cautiously paddled around theisland. From one of the windows, before concealed, he saw a light. Keeping at a distance, so that the rays should not fall upon him, hestole around until he had interposed the hut between himself and itsbeams. Then, apparently satisfied there was nothing to be feared, hedirected the canoe towards the island, and slowly advanced until itsbottom touched the sand, when he sat still and listened again. Hearingnothing, he left the canoe, and crouching down, crept towards thecabin. Having reached it, he applied his ear to the side and listened, and again advanced. Thus slowly proceeding, some little time elapsedbefore he found himself at the window whence streamed the light. Without venturing to touch the wooden boards, as if fearful they mightcommunicate a knowledge of his presence, he raised himself almostimperceptibly at the edge of the window, until he obtained a view ofthe interior. Holden was sitting at a distance of not more than sixfeet, near a small table, on which a single candle was burning, andin his lap lay a large opened book, on which his folded hands wereresting. He seemed lost in meditation, gazing into the wood-firebefore him, towards which his crossed legs were extended at fulllength. 

The Indian slid his hand down to the lock of the gun, and drew backthe trigger. Cautiously as it was done, he could not prevent a slightclicking sound, which, perhaps, struck the ear of the Solitary, for heturned his head and moved in the chair. The Indian slunk to the edgeof the window, so as to conceal his person from any one within theroom, and remained motionless. Presently he advanced his head, andtook another view. The Solitary had resumed his former position, andwas buried in profound thought. The Indian stepped back a couple ofsteps, so as to allow the necessary distance between himself and thewindow, and raised the rifle to his shoulder. 

At that instant and just as he was about to discharge the deadlyweapon, a large rattlesnake, attracted by the warmth, or for someother reason, glided from the opposite side of the hut towards theoutstretched limbs of Holden, over which it crawled, and restingits body upon them, with upraised head seemed to fasten its eyes, glittering in the fire-light, full upon the face of the startledIndian. The effect was instantaneous. The rifle nearly dropped fromhis uplifted hands, a cold sweat burst from every pore, his kneesshook, and his eyes, fixed on the snake by a fascination thatcontrolled his will, felt bursting from their sockets. Afterpreserving its attitude for a short time, the snake, as if takingHolden under its protection, coiled itself around his feet, and laywith its head resting on his shoe, looking into the fire. As thesnake turned away its bright eyes the spell that bound the Indianwas dissolved. An expression of the deepest awe overspread hiscountenance, his lips moved, but emitted no sound, and cautiously ashe had advanced be returned to the canoe, and was soon swallowed up inthe darkness. 

The abstraction of Holden must have been deep and long, for uponrecovering from his reverie, the reptile was gone. Without hisconsciousness it had come, and without his consciousness departed; andwhen he laid the Bible, in which he had been reading, upon the table, he knew not either the danger he had escaped, or the means by which ithad been averted. 

Nor let the conduct of Ohquamehud excite surprise. An American Indian, he was susceptible to the influence of the legends and traditions ofhis race. Among them are some inculcating a superstitious reverencefor certain animals. The bear, for instance, is regarded by sometribes as a sort of relation, and when the necessity of hunger compelsthem to kill him, they apologize, and beg him not to be angry. Therattlesnake again is an object of great respect. Supplied with adeadly venom that makes him the most formidable of enemies, he neverattacks unless first injured, and then, if he can reach his foe, hisvengeance is sure. On his trail he disdains concealment, but with therattles nature has provided to announce his approach, apprises all, that they may remove themselves out of his way. Indeed, he comprehendswithin himself those qualities most valued by the Indians, and is thetype of a brave warrior. When, therefore, at such an hour and such aplace, the reptile made its appearance, and first darting its fieryglances at the Pequot, quietly and, as if scorning and defying thedanger, laid itself caressingly on the limbs of Holden, it seemed tothe astonished Indian that the snake knew his purpose, and angrilyordered him to desist. Vain, he thought, would it be to assail one soprotected, nor was he willing to incur the mysterious enmity of thesnake. How its power might be displayed, whether in striking himdead on the spot, or in laming his limbs, or defeating his successin hunting, or what other dreadful manner, he knew not, but he wasconvinced that some awful punishment would follow disobedience. Hethought it, therefore, more prudent to yield for the present, and waittill he had propitiated the snake, or it had withdrawn its protection. As long as that lasted Onontio was beyond his power. Not thatvengeance was forborne; it was only postponed. 

Of such a character were the thoughts that darted through the mind ofthe Pequot when frightened from his purpose, and in less time than ithas taken to record them, as with drooping head he pursued his lonelyway. Even what he considered the interposition of a supernaturalpower, had not shaken the determination of his spirit. The desirefor revenge had been too long cherished to be given up at a singlewarning, however awful, or however strongly appealing to the deepestimplanted superstitions. 

CHAPTER VII. 

 "Arma, virumque cano qui Primus. " VIRGIL

The season had now advanced to within a few days of that joyous periodof the year, when the Governors of the several New England States arewont to call the people to a public acknowledgment of the favors ofDivine Providence. At the time of which we write, their Excellenciesrequired the citizens to be thankful "according to law, " and "allservile labor and vain recreation, " on said day, were "by lawforbidden, " and not, as at present, invited them to assemble in theirrespective churches, to unite in an expression of gratitude totheir Heavenly Benefactor. Whether the change from a command to aninvitation, or permission to engage in the sports which were beforeforbidden, has been attended with any evil consequences, we leaveto the individual judgment of our readers to determine. But whethercommanded or invited, the people always welcomed the season offestivity with preaching and praying, and an indiscriminate slaughterof all the fat turkeys and chickens on which they could lay theirhands. 

The yellow and crimson maple leaf had faded on the trees into moresombre colors, or, falling to the ground, been whirled by the windamong heaps of other leaves, where its splendor no more attractedattention. Of the gaiety of autumn, only the red bunches of the sumachwere left as a parting present to welcome winter in. The querulousnote of the quail had long been heard calling to his truant mate, andreproaching her for wandering from his jealous side; the robins hadeither sought a milder climate or were collected in the savin-bushes, in whose evergreen branches they found shelter, and on whose berriesthey love to feed; and little schoolboys were prowling about, busycollecting barrels for Thanksgiving bonfires. 

It was a beautiful clear morning in Thanksgiving-week, when aside gate, that admitted to the yard or inclosure in front of Mr. Armstrong's house, opened, and a negro, with a round good-naturedface, and rather foppishly dressed, stepped out upon the walk. But, before paying our respects to Mr. Felix Qui, it may not be altogetheramiss to give some description of the house of Mr. Armstrong, asrepresenting the better class of dwelling-houses in our villages, atthe time. 

It was a large, two-story wood building, painted white, with greenblinds, and consisted of a main body nearly fifty feet square, inwhich, were the apartments for the family, and of an L, as it wascalled, from the shape it gave the building, running back, and devotedto the kitchen and sleeping chambers of the servants. The height ofthe stories in this L was somewhat less than in the front part of thehouse, indicating thereby, perhaps, the more humble relation in whichit stood to the latter. Three large chimneys rose above the roof, twofrom the principal building and one from the kitchen. A wide hall inthe centre, swept through the whole length without interference fromthe rear building, which might be considered as a continuation ofsomewhat less than one-half of the part in front. The wood-house stoodon the same side as the kitchen, some twenty feet distant; and stillfurther back, a large barn, also of wood, and painted a light leadcolor, with the exception of the cornice and trimmings about the doorsand windows, which were white. The house itself stood some fifty feetback from the high road, and was surrounded by enormous elms, thoseglories of the cultivated American landscape, some measuring four andfive feet in diameter, and throwing their gracefully drooping branchesfar and high over the roof, to which, in the heat of summer, theyfurnished an acceptable shade. The prospect in front, and lookingbetween two rows of maples that lined the road, comprehended theYaupáae, expanded into a lake, green fields and apple orchards runningdown to the water's edge, and hills, clothed to the top with verdure, rolling away like gigantic waves into the distance. Behind the housewas a garden and orchard of, perhaps, two acres, terminating in asmall evergreen wood of hemlocks and savins, interspersed with a fewnoble oaks. Mr. Armstrong had laid out several winding paths throughthis little wood, and placed here and there a rustic seat; and thetaste of his daughter had embellished it with a few flowers. HereFaith had taught the moss pink to throw its millions of starryblossoms in early spring over the moist ground, after the modesttrailing arbutus, from its retreat beneath the hemlocks, had exhaustedits sweet breath; here, later in the season, the wild columbinewondered at the neighborhood of the damask rose; here, in the warmdays of summer, or in the delicious moonlight evenings, she loved towander, either alone or with her father, in its cool paths. 

Still more beautiful than the prospect from the front door, were theviews from this charming spot. Rising to a considerable elevationabove the river to which it descended with a rapid slope, it commandednot only the former view to the south, though more extended, but alsoone to the northwest. Beneath, at a depression of eighty feet, lay thelake-like river with its green islets dotting the surface, while, ata short distance, the Fall of the Yaupáae precipitated itself over arocky declivity, mingling, in the genial season of the year, a noblebass with the songs of birds and the sighing of the wind, and addingto and deepening in the rougher months, the roar of the tempest. Asmall stream diverted from the river, turned the wheel of a moss-growngrist-mill, which was nestled under large willows at the foot ofthe rocks, and conveyed the idea of the presence of man, withoutdetracting from the wild beauty of the scenery. 

Now, alas, how is all changed! _Heu! quantum mutatus ab illo Hectore_!The grist-mill has disappeared! A row of willows which skirted theroad that winding by the margin of the cove, led to it, has been cutdown; and huge brick and stone factories of paper and cotton goods, gloomy and stern-like evil genii, brood over the scene, and allthrough the day and into the night, with grinding cylinders, andbuzzing spindles and rattling looms, strive to drown, with harshdiscords, the music of the waterfall. One of the little islands hasbeen joined to the main land with gravel carted into the river, and ableach-house or some other abomination erected upon it. The place isdisenchanted. The sad Genius of Romance who once loved to stretch hislimbs upon the mossy rocks, and catch inspiration from watching thefoam and listening to the roar, has departed with a shriek, never toreturn. 

Felix, when he found himself outside of the gate, gazed up and downthe street, as if uncertain in which direction to proceed. After amomentary hesitation, and drawing a pair of gloves over his hands, heseemed to have made up his mind, and at a lounging pace, directed hiscourse up, that is towards the north. He had not gone far when he sawcoming towards him a person of his own color, who until then had beenhid by a turn in the road. No one else was in sight, the spot beingthe piece of table-land mentioned in a previous chapter, about ahalf mile from the thickly settled part of the town, which was at thebottom of the hill near the confluence of the rivers. Here were noshops or public buildings, but only private residences from thirty tofifty rods apart, and inhabited by a few families a little wealthier, perhaps, for the most part, than the others. 

It was a man, still hale and hearty, though what his age was it mightbe difficult to say. He might have been sixty or even seventy. TheAfrican race does not betray the secret of age as readily as thewhite. Probably the man did not know himself, nor is it of importance. He moved with a jerk, and upon a nearer approach it appeared that thelower part of one of his legs was made of wood. He must have been, however, long accustomed to it, for as he moved rather sedately along, it seemed to occasion him but little inconvenience. When sufficientlynear, Felix, touching his cap with great politeness, bade him goodmorning, by the title of General. But who our new acquaintance is, wemay as well tell here as anywhere else. 

The old negro, then approaching, was one of those, the number of whom, although small compared with that of the white troops engaged inthe war of the Revolution, was still considerable enough not to beentirely overlooked. His name was Primus Ransome, and at an earlyperiod he had enlisted into the army, and served until disabled bythe loss of a leg, when he found himself in rags, with an excellentcharacter for bravery and general good conduct, minus the member leftat Yorktown, and a candidate for any such bounty as the exhaustedmeans of the country and the liberality of Congress might grant. Hecontrived somehow to return to the town of Hillsdale, where, in acheckered life, he had happened to pass two or three of his happiestyears, and there prepared to enjoy that liberty he had helped toachieve. His good character, cheerful temper, and the services he hadperformed made him a general favorite. Yet, notwithstanding, he foundit at first hard to get along. His military habits had incapacitatedhim for long continued industry, and an invitation to a social glassor an opportunity to tell one of his campaigning stories, was at anytime temptation sufficient to wile him away from labor. There was nogentleman's kitchen where Primus was not treated with kindness, andwhere he did not receive all he asked but he had some pride, and wasunwilling to abuse the offered hospitality. Thus, working a littleat digging in gardens and cutting wood and such other odd jobs ashe could obtain, and making calls at the kitchens, and telling longstories about Monmouth, and Trenton, and the siege of Yorktown, whatwith the money he got, and the presents made him at Thanksgivingand Christmas, and other odd times, Primus roughed it along, aftera fashion, until Congress found itself in a condition to give him apension. It came late to be sure, and was small, but then so were hiswants. It was regularly paid and certain, and joined to the advantageshe already possessed, constituted an ample fortune. Before he gothis pension, poor Primus would sometimes cast a rueful glance at hiswooden leg, and think to himself he had paid a pretty dear price forindependence; and at such times, it must be confessed, his patriotismran to a low ebb. He knew no Latin, and therefore could not say, "_sicvos non vobis_, " &c. , yet he thought it. But after he obtained hislittle annuity, the love of country of the Horatii or Curiatii wasfrigid to his. He was never weary of boasting of its freedom, of itsgreatness, and of General Washington. It was observed that as hegrew older his stories became longer and more incredible, and hispatriotism hotter. His own personal exploits too, occupied a widerspace in his narratives. To believe him, the number of British andHessians conquered by his single arm would have composed a regiment;and, indeed, it was difficult to conceive how the struggle could havebeen brought to a successful issue without his assistance. 

"Good morning, General, " said Felix, politely touching his cap. 

"Good warning, Missa Qui I hope I see you well dis pleasant marning. How Miss Rosa?" inquired Primus, at the same time making a militarysalute with the back of his hand. 

"Miss Rosa is well, thank you, sir. As for this genlman, he is alwayswell, " said Felix, laying his hand on his breast. 

"Fine day for walking, sir. Sorry you going de oder way, Missa Qui. Suppose you hab business. "

"I walk out for the exercise. I have not take exercise enough latelyfor the health. "

At this moment the eye of Primus caught sight of a white piece ofpaper sticking out of a corner of Felix's pocket, and he suspected theerrand on which the latter was sent, so he added:

"You celumbrate Tanksgiving in de usual style at your house dis year, I presume. "

"Some witch tell you, General. Haw, haw!"

"De ole chimbly smoke extrorninary at dis season. De chickens and deturkies know dat chimbly well. "

"Guess they do, " said Felix. "General Ransome, can you keep a secret?"

"I is close as Missa Pint pocket, dat button all round, " said the oldnegro. 

"Then I have no objections to tell you, General, that I give out someinvite this morning to ladies and genlmen to take dinner at my house, Thanksgiving Day. "

"Hab you one for me?"

"Look for yourself, sir, " said Felix, pulling out two or three billetsfrom the left pocket of his waistcoat, and presenting them to theother. "You sociate with General Washington and all the great men, andread writing, sure. "

Primus took the billets into his hands, and ran his eye over thesuperscriptions, with an air of the most perfect confidence, then, shaking his head, returned them to Felix, observing:

"Dere is none here for me. "

"Perhaps there is one for you in this pocket, " continued Felix, fumbling on the other side, and producing another billet. Primuslooked, but shook his head as before. "Have the extreme goodness, "said Felix, who began to be considerably mystified by the serious airof the other, and half-disposed to believe that he might have someknowledge of the mystic characters, "to tell me who this little noteis intend for. "

Primus knew very well the intimate relations existing between thefamilies of the Armstrongs and Bernards, and that the formeroften took their Christmas dinner with the latter, while again theArmstrongs reciprocated the civility by inviting the Bernards, whowere Episcopalians, to the feast of Thanksgiving. Moreover, he had metFelix going in a direction towards the house of Mr. Bernard, whichwas close by. Putting these circumstances together, the old soldierthought that he might venture a guess, which, if it succeeded, wouldredound greatly to the credit of his learning, and, which, if itfailed, could entail on him no other harm than the laugh of Felix. Assuming, therefore, a knowing look, he said:

"Dat is berry easy to read. Any man wid any larning at all, can seede billet is intend for Missa Judge Bernard. " He saw by the distendedeyes of Mr. Qui that his guess had struck the mark, and fearful ofbeing requested to decipher the other superscriptions, hastily added:

"But what for I stop here, wasting my precious time, and keepingyou from doing you master's arrant? I hab de honor to wish you goodmarning, Missa Qui. " So saying, Primus turned round and stumpedoff half a dozen steps, before the bewildered Felix recovered hisfaculties. 

"Stop, General, " at last exclaimed Felix, as soon as he regained hisspeech, running after him and taking hold of his arm, "allow me, aword with you"

"I is berry busy dis marning, " cried Primus, struggling to get free;"Missa Pownal want my sarvices; de doctor is anxious to insult wid me;and de 'Piscopal minister hab someting 'portant to communicate. "

"I inspect he want you to write the Thanksgiving sermon, " said Felix, grinning. "But, General, I have really an invite for you. I forgot towrite the note before I leave home, and so you must, 'scuse the wantof style. I have the honor to ask you, General, to take your dinner, on that glorious day, with Miss Rosa and I. "

"Dat alter de case intirely, " said Primus, losing his dread of readingbillets, and forgetting his hurry in the pleasure received from theinvitation; "dat alter de case entirely. You is a genlman, and berrypolite, Missa Qui, and Miss Rosa is beyond 'spression. Dere is fewob de fair sec equal Miss Rosa. Let me see, " he continued, with athoughtful air, and looking on the ground, "whedder I not disappointsome genlman. When I come round de corner I see Missa Tracy boy goingtoward my house. Now, probably he bring invite for me. But you inviteis de fust, Missa Qui, and it is hard to desist de attraction ob MissRosa and youself, and I will do myself de honor to wait on you. Sorry, howebber to disappoint Missa Tracy. " Primus had now embarked on thefull tide of his garrulity, and casting out of mind his regret for notbeing able to accept the imaginary invitation to Mr. Tracy's, went on:

"'Pears to me a great 'vantage, Missa Qui, dat some folks is'Piscopalians, and some Presbyterians. "

Felix looked as if he failed to apprehend the meaning of his friend. 

"'Cause, " said Primus, "dat make two grand dinner, and you and me isdere to eat 'em. "

Felix had now fairly caught the other's meaning, and the two explodedin bursts of laughter. 

"You have right to say so, General, and the observation do you greathonor. And that is the reason I inspect that you are 'Peskypalian. "

"I surprise to hear you say so ob your ole friend, " said Primus, drawing himself up with an air of offended dignity. "No, sar, dat isnot de reason. De reason I is 'Piscopalian is, 'cause I belong to deregulars. "

"I never hear tell the 'Peskypalians is more regulars than otherfolks, " said Felix. 

"You is a young man (the difference in their ages might be half adozen years), and cannot be 'spected to know ebbery ting. If you gibme your 'tention, I make it all plain as de road Gineral Washingtonshow de British out ob de country. You see when I was in de army in deglorious war ob de Resolution, we say prayers sometime as well as youfolks who stay at home, and don't do none ob de fightin. And so whende drum beat, ebbery man must be at his post. Den come de chaplain allin his regimental, and put de book on de big drum, and kneel down, andGineral Washington he kneel down, too, and de chaplain say some prayerdat sound like de roll ob de drum itself. O, it was so beautiful, andI always feel better arter-wards. Dere nebber was much uniform in dearmy, but what dere was, de regulars is entitle to it. I nebber tinkde soger look just de ting widout de regimental. Now, look at de'Piscopal minister in de pulpit, in de lily-white and de black gown. De fust is for white folks, and de oder out of respec' for us coloredpussons. Dey is his regimental. He look like a regular soger obde Lord. But see de Presbyterian. He hab no uniform at all. He onymilishy officer. "

Felix, who, as in duty bound, was as zealous a Presbyterian (as theCongregationalists in New England were generally called) as Primus wasan Episcopalian, was scandalized at such language. He half regrettedhaving given the invitation to the dinner, and it is highly probablethat, if he had heard General Ransome's speech before, that gentlemanwould have so far talked himself out of his good graces (a misfortunethat sometimes happens to extraordinary eloquence), as to have lostthe object of his anxiety, and, like the nightingale in Cowper'sfable, have "sought his dinner somewhere else. " But Primus saw thegathering storm and hastened to avert its discharge. 

"I hab great respec', " he said, "for the milishy. Dey is excellent forskirmishing, and where ebbery man hab to fight on his own hook, butwhen it come to de hard fightin' de regulars is de men to be dependon. And den, " added he, "dere is odder reasons: I like de exercise inde church better. I like dere taste, too, when dey ornaments de churchwid greens at Christmas. It make de winter look kind o' young andhappy. "

Felix was easily propitiated. He might be offended with his comrade, but his anger could not last. It had passed away, before Primus hadconcluded his conciliatory remarks. In fact, the two cronies were toonecessary to each other's happiness to allow of a long quarrel, and for all Felix's reverence for his master's "meeting, " he was asplacable as zealous, nor would the famous festival have been agenuine Thanksgiving without his old friend to help him to discuss itsluxuries. They shook hands at parting, and Mr. Qui promised to presentthe complemens of the General to Miss Rosa. 

As Felix pursued his way alone, having no one else to talk to, he gavehimself the benefit of his conversation. 

"That General, " he said, aloud, "is a wonderful man. I never respectedhim before of knowing how to read writin'. I don't believe, after all, he does know how. But when he took the billets in his hand, he sort o'give 'em a squint as if he knew all about it Who learned him? Perhapshe does and perhaps he doesn't. I wonder, too, how he missed all thebullets he preaches about sometimes, with losing only one leg. I heardhim say, fifty times, they come like an April shower. Now, if he hada hundred legs, it seems to me they ought all to be smashed. I'spect, as I heard the doctor say once, he draws on the fact for his'magination. But what can you 'spect, Felix, from a 'Peskypalian? Theythink so much of gitting up and setting down, as if there was religionin moving the legs. But let me see about the billets. Miss Faith toldme to put the Bernards' in this pocket, and the minister's in this, and the doctor's in this other one. Ah, all right! The doctor is avery curus person. I wonder what makes him talk so much about a man hecalls Shakspeare. I heard him say he lived a great many years ago, Iguess with Joshua and David, when there was so much fighting goingon, and when they hadn't no guns. Perhaps he was Goliah's brother, whocome out with shield and spear. Well, there is no sogers with spearsnow-a-days. It's my opinion, give old Prime a loaded musket with abaggonet, and he'd do more work than Goliah and Shakspeare together, with their spears. But, here, I am near the Judge's. Now, sir, mindyour eye, and see that you maintain the spectability of the family". Saying this, Felix drew himself up, adjusted his neckerchief, andstrutted somewhat pompously into the yard of the Judge, whence he soonfound his way into the kitchen. The invitations to the Bernards werein due form delivered, as were the others, and accepted. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

 _Lorenzo_. --Go in, Sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner. _Launcelot_. --That is done, sir; they have all stomachs. _Lorenzo_. --Goodly lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then bid them prepare dinner. _Launcelot_. --That is done too, sir. 

 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

The high square, pews of the little Congregational church, or (as inthose days the descendants of the Puritans, in order to manifesttheir abhorrence for popery, and all that in their judgment soundedpapistical, loved to call their places for public worship) the"meeting-house, " were tolerably well filled by an attentivecongregation on Thanksgiving morning. We say only tolerably, someseats being vacant, which seldom of a Sunday missed of occupants. Therights of hospitality were allowed on this occasion to trench upon theduties of public worship, and many a good wife with the servants, whomno common storm or slight indisposition would have kept away, remainedat home to spread the board for expected guests. If there were somewhose stern principles condemned the practice as a carnality, theywere a small minority. Those whose fleshly appetites were to begratified by it took a different view of the subject very generally;and as this was the condition of pretty much the whole community, whose members figured now as hosts and now as guests, the verdict wasnearly unanimous in its favor. In truth, the due observance of theday seemed to consist of two parts, worship and feasting; each wasnecessary to the other to form a complement, and without both it wouldhave been jejune and unsatisfactory. Besides, this was the annualperiod for the reunion of friends and relatives, parted for therest of the year, and in some instances considerable journeys wereundertaken in order once more to unite the severed circle and gatheragain around the beloved board. Fathers and mothers, with smiles ofwelcome, kissed their returned children; brothers and sisters joinedcordial hands and rushed into each other's embraces, and the placidgrandparents danced the little ones on their knees, and tracedresemblances to others. It would have been a cold and inhospitablegreeting, to be invited, after listening to a two hours' sermon, tosit around a dinner not beyond the common. Not to such a feast didstout-hearted and hard-headed Jonathan invite his friends. He rightlyunderstood that there was a carnal and a spiritual man, nor was hedisposed to neglect the claims of either. The earth was given to thesaints "with the fullness thereof, " and he meant to have his portion. Therefore it was that while one part of the family went to "meeting"to pray, the other remained at home to--cook. Thus, by a judiciousdivision of duties the honored day was celebrated with befitting ritesand ceremonies. 

After waiting for a reasonable time, until all who were expected toattend were supposed to be in the house, the minister rose from hisseat, in the high, wine-glass shaped pulpit, over which hung, like thesword of Damocles, by a cord, an immense sounding-board, consideredindispensable, duly to scatter round that each might have hisappropriate portion, the crumbs of salvation he dispensed, and "gaveout" an appropriate hymn, in which the Supreme Being was acknowledgedas the Ruler of the Seasons. This was sung, it must be confessed, by asadly shrunken choir, stoutly supported, however, by the congregationin the body of the meeting-house, without the sound of tabret, orharp, or other musical instruments; for in those days not even theflute or grave bass-viol, those pioneers of the organ, were permittedin the Sanctuary. To the hymn succeeded a long and fervent prayer, inwhich Mr. Robinson, the minister (the term Reverend had then a slightpapistical twang), after bewailing with ingenious particularity thesins and back-slidings of himself and people, and the ingratitudeof the whole land, and recounting the innumerable blessings that hadcrowned their basket and their store, entreated that notwithstandingtheir manifold sins, iniquities and transgressions, the divine favormight not be withdrawn from a land where the Lord had planted his ownvine, and where the precious seeds of heavenly grace deposited inthe soil and nurtured and cultured by men "of whom the world was notworthy, " had sprung up and borne the inestimable fruit of civil andreligious freedom. Upon the conclusion of the prayer followed anotherhymn, and after these "exercises, " the sermon. 

The text was the ninth verse of the twenty-sixth chapter ofDeuteronomy, "And He hath brought us into this place and hath givenus this land, even a land that floweth with milk and honey. " TheThanksgiving sermon was formerly one on which more than common laborwas expended, and was intended to be a celebrity of the year. On thisoccasion the preacher laid out a wide field for his eloquence. Hecommenced by comparing the condition of the first colonists to thatof the children of Israel when they fled from the house of bondage. Hepainted the Pilgrim fathers landing on Plymouth Rock, snow, and ice, and desolation around, but the fire of faith in their hearts. Hecontrasted the feebleness of the beginning with the grandeur of theresult, whence he deduced the inference that the Lord had led hispeople with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; he alluded to thechanged appearance of the country, converted from a heathen wildernessinto a Christian garden, whence the perfume of Christian devotionperpetually arose; he portrayed the horrors of the war of theRevolution, and exhorted his hearers to cherish the memory of the menwho had consecrated their lives and fortunes to Liberty, and sealedthat consecration with their blood. Warming with his subject, his eyesshone with a brighter lustre and seemed gazing into a far future, asin prophetic tones he proclaimed the advent of the latter days, whenthe beacon fires of Freedom kindled on the mountain tops of the newCanaan should send their streaming rays across the seas, and thekingdoms of this world should become the heritage of God and of HisChrist. "Seeing these things are so, brethren, " he concluded, "seeingthat God hath chosen you unto himself for a peculiar people, the weakthings of the world to confound the strong, the rejected, the castaway and despised, to be held up as an example to the wonderingand admiring nations, what manner of men ought ye to be in all holyconversation and godliness?"

Such is an imperfect sketch of the remarks of Mr. Robinson. With suchlanguage sought the ministers in times past to keep alive the flameof patriotism, and to inspire with humility, yet animate with a justpride. Nor are such discourses thrown away. They do much towards theformation of a national character. 

Long as was the sermon--and of not a moment of its orthodox length wasit defrauded--it was listened to with the deepest attention, by theolder members, especially, of the congregation. The grave decorum ofa place of public worship forbade any open exhibition of approval, butmore than one knit brow and lighted eye, betrayed the emotions excitedby the allusions. Let it be remembered, it was nearer the times thattried men's souls; the later events were fresh in their memory; someof the hearers, perhaps, had borne a personal part in them, and allwere animated by the generous fire of '76--sparks of which, we trust, still glimmer in the bosoms of their descendants. What to us, inthese colder and as some say more worldly days, might have seemedextravagant, if not vain-glorious, was to them sober truth; andif there were any who, perverting into poison what was meant forwholesome nutriment, thanked God that they were not as other men, there were others who, without losing their humility, felt an impulsegiven to the nobler feelings. 

At the conclusion of the services, there was the usual grasping ofhands, and congratulations of the season, and inquiries after healths, and encomiums on the sermon, when the assembly dispersed to theirhomes, to attend, in another form, to the duties of the day. Mr. Armstrong and Faith waited for the minister, and the three walkedhome together. They were overtaken and joined by Doctor Elmer, who expressed regret at having been detained from the services byprofessional duties. 

"But, " added he, looking at Mr. Robinson, and bowing courteously, "ifI have been so unfortunate as to miss of one feast, I do not mean tobe deprived of another. I may say of myself, as Shakspeare says ofsomebody, 'Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. '"

"I hope your Puritan principles do not consist merely in eatingThanksgiving dinners, " said Mr. Robinson, with a smile. 

"And remember, doctor, " observed Faith, "what your own Shakspeare saysagain--

 "'dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but bankerout quite the wits. '"

"My dear, " interposed Mr. Armstrong, "is not this conversation of toolight a character?"

But he could not immediately check the doctor. 

"Ha, Miss Faith, " he cried, "'wilt thou show the whole wealth of thywit, in an instant? I pray thee, understand a plain man in his plainmeaning. ' But

 'The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor's edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen. 'Come, " he added, observing that Mr. Armstrong looked grave, "take myarm, and we will discuss some serious subject, together. " So saying, he offered his arm to Faith, which she took, and they followed, at afew steps distance, after Mr. Armstrong and the minister. 

"I am afraid, " said the doctor, slackening his pace, so as to allowthe others to get out of hearing, "you would prefer a certain younggentleman's arm to that of an old bachelor. It is rather hard that therogues, whose principal recommendation, I flatter myself, is that theyare twenty years younger, should steal away all my sweethearts. "

Faith laughed, as she replied:

"Why, dear doctor, what would you have us do? You never will propose;so you must not complain if you drive us poor girls to desperation. "

"You wicked little baggage, is this the way you laugh at the mostconstant of your admirers? How many long years have I spent in yourservice, from the time I began with rocking your cradle, occasionallygiving you, to sweeten your humors, a teaspoon of castor oil, or ahalf-dozen drops of elixir salutis, up to the present time, and thusyou reward my devotion! I begin to feel desperate, and have half amind to transfer my affections to Anne Bernard. "

"Do not treat me so cruelly. I assure you, my love increases everyday. Besides, you might find your perfidy punished by meeting a tooformidable rival. "

"Ah, ha! I understand. Yet, I feel my chivalry a little roused atthe idea of opposition. But, on the whole, Faith, I will accept yourpledge of affection, and stick to my colors like a man and a doctor. And, to exhibit my confidence, you may, meanwhile, flirt in moderationwith William Bernard. You will get tired of it when the novelty wearsoff; so I shall escape, and it is better that you should tease him nowthan me hereafter. But, dear me, here we are at your door. "

Mr. Armstrong and the minister had waited for them on the step, andthe four entered together. Shortly after Pownal arrived, and somewhatlater the family of the Bernards. 

We should deceive our readers if we left them to infer from thejesting talk of the doctor that any mutual attachment existed betweenMiss Armstrong and William Bernard. It was because his suspicions wereso vaguely expressed, and herself so unconscious of any feelings ofthe kind, that Faith had not thought it worth while to notice them. She and young Bernard had known each other from infancy; they hadattended the same school; the intimacy betwixt Faith and Anne, and thefriendly relations of the two families equals in wealth and station, had brought them frequently together, but nothing could be furtherfrom the fact than that any engagement existed between them. Theytreated one another, indeed, like brother and sister; but if anywarmer emotion was felt, it was not by Faith. Her engrossing affectionfor her father seemed to exclude all rivalship. The meeting exactlyexpressed the footing on which the families stood. Mr. Armstrong shookhands cordially with all, and in a few words uttered his pleasure atwelcoming them; Mrs Bernard kissed the cheek of Faith, with almostthe feeling of a mother; the greeting of the girls' was like that ofsisters, and Faith extended her hand to William Bernard, with a smile, but without a blush. 

Though utterly unlike, it would be difficult to conceive of two morebeautiful creatures than Faith Armstrong and Anne Bernard. The darkhair of Faith, the large black eyes, the nose slightly aquiline, anexpression of countenance ordinarily composed, though not sad, butwhich could be lighted up into enthusiasm, and a graceful dignity thatmarked every action, while it seemed only a necessary part of herself, forcibly reminded one sometimes of the heroines of the ancientScriptures. So in her youthful years, before her eyes were fullyopened to the vision, and before to the sound of the clanging timbrelher voice responded to the triumph song of the children of Israel, might have looked the prophetess, Miriam. 

No contrast could be stronger than that presented by sweet AnneBernard. Light colored hair fell in graceful curls around an oval andperfectly regular face, of the most delicate complexion. So thin, soalmost transparent was the skin, that the veins seemed hardly hidden, and a very slight emotion was sufficient to suffuse it with a tintthat needed to fear no rivalry with the rose. No heaven could be bluerthan the soft eyes that seemed "to love whate'er they looked upon, "and whether dimmed with the tear of pity, or flashing with mirth, revealed a pure, but not a timid spirit. But among features which allwere beautiful, if one could be called more beautiful than another, itwas the mouth, and white as snow were the regular and perfectly formedteeth which the crimson lips concealed. Her figure was rather belowthan above the ordinary height, and its roundness indicated themost perfect health. Let not this description be deemed a picture ofromance. Those acquainted with the beautiful daughters of New Englandwill acknowledge its truth, or, at least, confess, it errs not on theside of exaggeration. 

The intermediate time between the arrival of the company and theserving up of dinner, was spent by them in such conversation asusually takes place on occasions of the kind. Somebody has said, thattwo Americans cannot meet without talking politics, but we can vouchfor the fact, that although Mr. Armstrong, the doctor, and divine werefederalists, and the Judge a democrat, having spent several of hisearly years in France, where he was supposed to have imbibed hissentiments, not a word on the subject was uttered. A reference or twowas made to the minister's discourse; the flourishing condition of thecountry and its prospects adverted to; and some items of domesticnews and village anecdotes narrated. Such was the conversation of theelders: as for what passed between the young people, we know there wassome laughing, but have forgot what they talked about. We regret thisirreparable loss, and promise to be more attentive for the future. 

Al length, the ebony disc of Felix's face, rising pleasantly above asnow-bank of neck-cloth, appeared at the door, and announced dinner, when Mr. Armstrong offering his arm to Mrs. Bernard, preceded hisfriends into the dining-room. Faith accepted the Judge's escort, andPownal tried to wait on Anne, but somehow or other (and we suspect herof complicity in the affair), the divine secured the prize. 

Before the company sat down, which was in an order having reference totheir supposed tastes and attractions, at a request from the host, anappropriate grace was said by the minister, which happily avoidedthe extremes of too much brevity on the one hand, and of toogreat prolixity on the other; or, in other words, it was neitherirreverently short, nor impertinently long. 

The dinner was of that kind which still graces the hospitable boardsof old Connecticut. At one end of the table a roasted turkey, whichhad been stuffed a couple of days before, in order that the spices, composing a part of the ingredients, might penetrate and flavorthe flesh of the noble bird, turned up his round full breast to thecarving-knife; at the other end, another turkey, somewhat smaller, boiled and served with oyster sauce, kept company with her mate, whilenear the centre, which was occupied by bleached celery in a crystalvase, a mighty ham balanced a chicken pie of equal size. Besides theseprincipal dishes there were roasted and boiled fowls, and ducks, andtongues, flanked by cranberry and apple sauces, and mashed turnips andpotatoes. On the sideboard (for be it remembered, it was "when thisold cap was new, " and a practice which now is considered, at least, questionable, was then held in all honor, and its neglect was neverdreamed of, and would have drawn down an imputation of nigardlinessand want of breeding) stood bottles of wine, and flagons containingstill stronger liquors, together with a large pitcher of deliciouscider. Upon the removal of the first course followed various kinds ofpuddings, and pies, and custards, and tarts, and sillabubs, and they, in their turn, were succeeded by apples and different sorts of nuts, with raisins and figs, with which the repast was concluded. Such wasan old Thanksgiving dinner. The present preliminary soup was unusualor unknown. It was an array capable of supplying the wants of a muchlarger company, and but a small part could be consumed, but it was thefashion, and it still continues. They were celebrating the bounty ofProvidence, and it was meet that the liberality of man should be inharmony with it. Felix, grave and decorous, as became the importanceof the occasion, and his assistant, multiplied themselves into athousand waiters, sedulous to anticipate the wants of the host and hisguests. 

The conversation, which at first ran in several distinct rills beingconfined to each one's immediate neighborhood mostly, and interruptedby the serious business of dinner, seemed gradually, after a time, tounite its various streams into one common current. The attention ofthe doctor was first attracted from an unsuccessful attempt to quoteto Mrs. Bernard Shakspeare's famous recipe for cooking a beef-steak byan observation of Mr. Robinson to Mr. Armstrong, at whose left handhe sat, the seat at the right being occupied by Mrs. Bernard, next towhom sat the doctor. 

"The results, " said the minister, "furnish, I fear, littleencouragement for the future. Unless divine grace shall manifestitself in a more signal manner than has heretofore been vouchsafed, they seemed destined to die in their sins. "

"Is there, then, no escape from a doom so horrible?" inquired thelow voice of Mr. Armstrong. "After being hunted from their ancientpossessions, and denied even the graves of their fathers, must theyperish everlastingly?"

"Can the clay say to the potter, 'What doest thou?'" said Mr. Robinson. "He maketh one vessel to honor and another to dishonor. Repeated attempts have been made to civilize and Christianize them, but in vain. Whom He will He hardeneth. "

Mr. Armstrong sighed, and another sigh, so low it was unheard, stolefrom the bosom of his daughter. 

"You are speaking of the Indians?" inquired the doctor. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Robinson, "and of the failure of all attempts byChristians to ameliorate their condition. "

"And are you surprised it should be so?" inquired the doctor. 

"The ways of Providence are inscrutable, " replied Mr. Robinson. "Ipretend not to explain the reasons why they are deaf to the pleadingsof the Gospel. "

"What, " cried the doctor, slightly altering his favorite author, "'hath not an Indian eyes? Hath not an Indian hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurtwith the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by thesame means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as aChristian is? If an Indian wrong a Christian, what is his humility?revenge; if a Christian wrong an Indian, what should his sufferancebe, by Christian example? why, revenge. ' There, you have the whole ina nut-shell. "

"In addition to the difficulty growing out of their treatment by thewhites, suggested by the doctor, " said the Judge, "there is another, which I consider insuperable, arising out of a difference of race. "

"I do not quite understand you, " observed Mr. Robinson. 

"It is said by naturalists, " answered the Judge, "that mancomprehends, within himself, the peculiarities of all inferioranimals. Now, there are some capable of domestication, while othersare irreclaimable. You may tame the horse, but not the tiger. Thewild element controls the one, and is controllable in the other. Inmy opinion, this wild element so predominates in the Indian as to makehim incapable of civilization. He is the tiger. "

"But some have been civilized, " remarked Mr. Armstrong. 

"A _quasi_ civilization, I grant, " said the Judge; "and were I toconcede more, the exceptions are so few as only to confirm the rule. "

"Your theory opens a wide field for speculation, " said Mr. Robinson, "and I could bring many objections to it. In the first place"----

"No doubt, no doubt, " cried the Judge, hastily, and desirous to avoidthe arising collision, "and I shall be happy to examine the subject, at some future time, with you. I throw out these ideas only as hints. But there is another rule operative, if, indeed, it is not the samedifferently expressed--the inferior must always give place to thesuperior race"

"That is not clear, either, " said the divine. "What race ever existedsuperior to the Jews? Yet, observe their condition. "

"I am not understood. Why, the Jews prove my theory. If they had notbeen a superior race, they would long ago have been extinct. But theirnumber now is probably as great as it ever was. The Indians, however, are vanishing. "

"And, really, Mr. Bernard, " said his wife, "on your own principles, they will be no loss, if they do vanish. If a superior race succeeds, all the better. "

"Right, right, my dear, " cried her husband, "_rem acu_--pshaw! I wasgoing to quote Latin. They have had their day, and fulfilled theirdesign. "

"It seems to me a deplorable necessity, " said Mr. Armstrong. 

"There are many laws and purposes at work in the rise and fall ofnations, " said the minister, "beyond our view. A peculiar mysteryhangs over the devoted tribes; and, assign what reasons we please fortheir decay, there is only one satisfactory reason into which allthe others are resolvable, viz: the determination of Providence. Thatdetermination is obvious. As the inhabitants of Canaan, wereswept away for their iniquities, so is the red race destined to beextinguished; and it may be for a like reason--they will not abandontheir abominations. "

"They are as moral as the whites, generally, I believe, " said WilliamBernard. 

"Alas, that word morality!" exclaimed the divine. "It is an _ignisfatuus_ to mislead--a broken reed to lean on. "

"But, " inquired Faith, anxiously, "do you think, sir, that nothing canbe done for those who are left?"

"I see but little prospect of it, " said Mr. Robinson. 

"There are some good people among them, " said the doctor, warmly. "Iwish I was as sure of my own salvation as I am of poor Esther's. "

This discussion scarcely disturbed the conversation between AnneBernard and Pownal, who, much to his delight, found himself seated byher side. Nor did the contiguity seem displeasing to the lovely girl. What is the charm that gives boldness to the timid, and eloquenceto the hesitating; which kindles the eye with a brighter lustre, and imparts a softer tone to the voice: which colors the cheek withfrequent blushes, and fills the heart with unwonted flutterings? Sweetmaiden, can you tell? Yet, what could they have so much to say toone another? They who are young, and they who have not forgotten thefeelings of youth will readily find an answer. 

"My heart warms to the Indians, " said Pownal, in a low tone, "wheneverI hear them spoken of. It appears to me, sometimes, " continued he, smiling, "as if I were a sort of relation. Were I a believer in thetransmigration of souls, I should think I had been, in some previousexistence, an Indian myself. "

"Probably a Sachem, with your hair nicely shaved, except a littlewhich was caught up into a knot like a cock's comb, on top to hold aneagle's feather, " said the laughing Anne. "How elegantly you must havelooked after having made your toilette, preparatory to wooing someIndian Princess, with your face beautifully painted in all the colorsof the rainbow, only handsomer. How I should have liked to see you. Hard-hearted must have been the fair who could resist such charms. "

"You have reason to laugh at me; it is very ridiculous, but"--

"And then to think of the sad change that has befallen you! To subsidefrom an eagle-feathered Sachem, eating succatash with an IndianPrincess, into a tame civilized gentleman, in a swallow-tailed coat, handing apples to a poor little Yankee girl! I do not wonder you weremelancholy and tried to shoot yourself. "

"It was the most fortunate shot I ever made, since"--

"I am not sure of that. Perhaps if you had succeeded you might havebeen transmigrated back into the wigwam, and resumed your addresses tothe Princess. "

"Your fancy outstrips mine. I find it hard, by the side of a realPrincess, to think of an imaginary one. "

"Faithless, like all your fickle sex. Ah me, poor princess!"

Here Mrs. Bernard made a motion to rise, which was followed by theother ladies, and as Anne turned away she said:--

"You who have set me an example of desertion can not be surprisedat my leaving you, which please to consider a punishment for thePrincess' wrongs. "

"And a severe one, " said Pownal. 

But a short time elapsed before the ladies were rejoined by thegentlemen in the withdrawing room, where we will leave them to lookafter some other friends of ours. 

Upon the conclusion of his duties, Felix had opportunity to extend therights of hospitality to General Ransome, who, true to his promise, had not failed to make his appearance in due time in the kitchen. There the worthy warrior had been received with all customary forms ofpoliteness by Miss Rosa, and, installed in a high-back chair, awaitedhis share of the entertainment. And when the time arrived, seatedbetween his friends, and opposite two other servants, there were few, if any, lighter and more careless hearts that day than the General's. And of the whole company it may be said, that if they were notrefined, they were at least merry. 

"Ladies and genlmn, " said the General, soon after the repast hadcommenced, and seeming to think the toasts could not begin too soon, "do me de satisfacshum to fill you glasses. Wid you leave I'm going togib a toast. "

On this day it was customary to extend an unusual degree of license tothe servants, and hence there was no lack of generous liquors on theboard, of the same descriptions as those drank by their superiors. Andto do them justice, it was seldom the privilege was abused. 

The glasses were quickly filled, and the General proposed "de healt'ob de fair sec. " This was drunk with acclamation, and a gentlemanobserved, "dat de whole world acknowledge de superur beauty ob de'Merican ladies. " This toast was followed by "De day we celumbrate;"and it was admitted on all sides that Thanksgiving was one of the mostimportant institutions of the country. Felix, then, looking at hisfriend gave, "the heroes of the 'Merican Revolution;" whereupon, theold soldier considering it incumbent upon him to return thanks for thearray, requested permission to make some remarks. Of course leavewas readily granted, and the orator, gracefully rising and steadyinghimself on the sound leg, with the other a little drawn back, extendedhis right hand, and bowing all round began. 

"Dere is noting, " he said, "so sweet as liberty. 'Tis dis dat make deeagle fedder light, and de bob-o-link sich a good singer. See de grandbird how he wheel right about face up to de sun, and hear de moosic obde merry little fellow!

 "Liberty, liberty, Berry nice to be free! Bob-o-link where he please, Fly in de apple trees, O, 'tis de Freedom note Guggle sweet in him troat! Jink-a-jink, jink-a-jink, Winky wink, winky wink, Ony tink, ony tink, How happy, Bob-o-link! Sweet! Sweet!

"King George, he want to make de Yankees drink tea instead ob coffee. Now dere is no comparishum 'atween de two, and who is dere would drinkde little tea leaves dat look as dey been all chew and den roll up, when he can git good coffee? Now King George he hab a great lot ob distea on hand, and it sell berry slow, and he want to git rid ob it, sohe send it to dis country wid orders dat ebery man, woman, and childshall drink at least four cup a day, and no coffee. So Broder Jonatanhe rise like a cat back, and he say (begging you pardon, ladies), 'damif I drink de tea. ' And a great many ob dem dress demselves up likeInjuns, and one dark night dey heab all de tea oberboard in Bossonharbor, and all de fish get sick, dey say for a week. Now King Georgewhen he hear ob all dis he git mad and jerk his old wig on de ground, an stamp on it, and kick it in de fire, and say he make de 'Mericanspay for de tea. And after dat he send a big army to dis country, butit was no use. De 'Mericans whip dem orfully at Bunker Hill, and datwas de beginning ob de famous Resolution. And dey continues to drinkde coffee; and I nebber drink no better dan Miss Rosa make in dishouse (bowing to her). And for my 'sploits in de glorious Resolutionyou is welcome wid all my heart, ladies and genlmn; and for decomplemen to de officers and sogers I gib dere best knowledgmn on dis'casion. "

The General sat down amid a storm of applause. Miss Rosa after theexcitement caused by his eloquence had subsided, observing that notoast had been given by any lady, offered to make up the deficiencyherself, which proposal being eagerly accepted, she gave "Miss Faith;and when she marry may she be happy as the angels. " The toast wasdrank with right good will, though with somewhat more decorum thanthe others. Faith was greatly beloved by the servants, to that degreeindeed, that the affectionate creatures doubted whether there was anyman in the world fit to be her husband. But, enough of toasts and finespeeches. As the General very judiciously observed when Miss Rosa, whoseemed to think he could not have too many delicacies, nor too muchof them, offered to add to his already overfilled plate, "dere is'bundance of cranberry saace for dis turkey. "

According to custom, as soon as it began to be dark, the bonfires werelighted, and flashing from various eminences made luminous the night, while joyous shouts of boys answered each other across the rivers andravines. 

At nine o'clock the bell rang out its usual warning, and before theclock struck the next hour, the inhabitants of Hillsdale had courtedthe repose of their pillows. 

CHAPTER IX. 

 He was a man Whom no one could have passed without remark, Active and nervous was his gait; his limbs And his whole figure breathed intelligence. Time had compressed the freshness of his cheek Into a narrow circle of deep red, But had not tamed his eye; that under brows, Shaggy and grey, had meanings which it brought From years of youth. 

 WORDSWORTH'S EXCURSION. 

There were certain seasons of the year when the malady of theSolitary assumed a more serious character than at others. From whatcircumstance this proceeded was unknown. It might arise from anassociation of ideas, connected in some manner with the events ofhis life, the particulars of which, although curious persons had, atvarious times, endeavored to draw them from him, he had never revealedmore plainly than in the conversations with Ohquamehud and thedoctor. The imagination was left to wander, therefore, among whateverspeculations respecting him it chose to indulge in, and, accordingly, there was no hypothesis that could be started, however absurd, thatdid not find advocates. 

By some, he was supposed to be a murderer, whom remorse had drivenfrom the haunts of men, and who was endeavoring to expiate hiscrimes by self-denial and suffering; others, asserted that he was theWandering Jew, though his long residence at the island militateda little with the idea: however, that was balanced by his markedreverence for the New Testament, and frequent references to the comingof the Son of Man; while others insisted he was a pirate, who hadburied treasure on the lonely island, and there watched over itssecurity. This last opinion was received with especial favor by thegaping vulgar, and further confirmed by the fact that the Solitarynever asked alms or was destitute of money, of which, indeed, he gaveaway to those whom he considered poorer than himself. But whatever wasthe truth, or however anxious the good people of Hillsdale might be todiscover the secret, no one ventured to meddle with him, though morethan one old woman had hinted that it was a shame he should be allowedto run about with so long a beard, and a resolute fellow even oncesuggested the expediency of arresting him on suspicion. As, however, his life was perfectly harmless, and he had never been, nor seemedlikely to become, a burden to the town, nor had committed any act ofviolence, such counsels were considered too harsh, especially as theattempt to execute them might involve the town in expense and otherunpleasant consequences. Besides, it was known he had strong friendsin influential families, who would not permit him to be wronged orquietly see the least of his rights invaded. The curiosity of theplace, therefore, was obliged to content itself with surmises, and towait until some more favorable period for its gratification. 

The time of the year had now arrived when Holden was wont to showhimself more than usually restless and excitable. He had beenwandering one day since early in the morning, shooting partridges andsquirrels, until late in the afternoon he found himself at the Fallsof the Yaupáae. This was for him a favorite place of resort, andhere, stretched on the ground, he would lie for hours, with his eyesfastened on the foaming water, listening to the cataract's roar, asif it soothed his humor. Holden threw himself on the moss thatexuberantly covers the rocks, and essayed the spell. But this time, invain. He lay but a moment, when, starting up, he seized the rifle hehad laid aside, and making a considerable detour, in order to reach asmall bridge higher up the stream, he crossed it, and pursued his wayto the village. 

Holden, notwithstanding he had lived so long in the vicinity andhad often been in the village, never made his appearance withoutattracting attention. The little boys and girls, and even theirelders, seldom passed him without turning to look again. Thesingularity of his dress, and fine tall person, as straight as hisrifle, and a beard, that waved like a prophet's, on his breast, wouldhave commanded observation anywhere. Joined to this was an air ofdignity and gravity that, in spite of the coarseness of his apparel, insured respect. However much the rude and vulgar might feel disposedto insult, they were too much awed by his presence to attempt it. Theymight speak disrespectfully, indeed, of him in his absence, but beforehim they were cowed and mute. The mystery, besides, with which theirimaginations surrounded him, invested him with a power the greater, perhaps, on account of its indefiniteness. They forgot in gazingat him, that his only means of living they were acquainted with wasderived from the sale of the oysters and fish he caught in the river, and of the large baskets he made with his own hands. The meanness ofthe occupation was lost sight of when they saw his majestic appearanceand heard the grand tones of his deep voice. 

Holden proceeded down the street, hardly recognizing--though such wasnot his wont--the friendly greetings with which he was sainted by manythat passed, until he arrived opposite the house of Mr. Armstrong. Here his progress was arrested by a tap on a window, and looking uphe saw the bright face of Miss Armstrong, who was beckoning to him. He stopped; the face disappeared to re-appear at the door, and Faithinvited him to come in. He hesitated, but the irresolution was onlymomentary, for instantly he turned and entered the house. 

"I doubted, " he said, "whether it were right to inflict the gloom ofan old man on one so young. What have age and despondency in commonwith youth and happiness?"

"But you do not doubt my sympathy? Is there anything I would not do tomake you happy, Father Holden?"

"No. I trust in thee as a parent in his child. Thou art as incapableof deception as the heavens of a stain. I have known thee, Faith, since thou wast a child, and thou hast always had an influence overme. As the notes of the youthful harper of Israel scared away thedemons from the bosom of Saul, so do the tones of thy voice thrillme like a melody from the past. So tell me of thyself and of all thatconcerns thee, so far, at least, as thou canst impart thy thoughts andfeelings to one like me. "

"The subjects that engage the attention of a young woman can havelittle interest for you, father. "

"Believe it not. Though my heart be sore, it has not lost all itsearlier feelings. "

"I cannot speak of myself, " said Faith. "My life has been toodestitute of incident to deserve mention, and it is already known toyou. "

"What callest thou life? Is it, " he continued, fixing his eyes on thecarpet, and speaking in a low tone, "the few gasps that agitate thebosom here? If that were all, it were of but little more consequencethan any other sigh. But this is only the beginning. It is thelighting of the spark that shall blaze a glorious star, or burn alurid conflagration for ever. " He stopped; he raised his eyes to theface of Faith, whose own were fastened on him, and gazed fondly onher; his features assumed a softened expression; and, as if a newtrain of thought had driven out the old, he added, "blessed are thepure in heart, for they shall see God. "

Apparently, these exclamations affected Faith with no surprise. Shehad probably listened to similar conversations, and simply replied:

"Who shall say his heart is pure?"

"If not thou, then none. Sad thought, that the poisoned tongue of thesnake in Eden, should taint even a being so fair as thou. "

"Father, " said Faith, who was desirous of changing a conversationwhich began to be embarrassing, for to such ejaculations it wasimpossible to return reasonable answers, "do you love the loneliness, of your island as much as ever? Would it not be more prudent to passthe winter months in the village?"

"Thou art not the only one whose kindness hath asked the question. But, in my youth I learned to love solitude, though it was forced onme in the beginning. The dungeon and the chain introduced me to itsacquaintance; yet, such is the kindness of Providence, that, what atfirst I hated, I afterwards learned to love. Know, too, that I havelived in the boundless forest, until an inhabited street cramps mybreast and stifles my breath; nor am I ever less alone than when alonewith God. Ask me not, then, though thy intentions be kind, to renouncea mode of life which habit hath made a second nature. "

"Tell me of your adventures. "

"Hold! Wouldst thou hear of a youth blasted by unkindness; ofprostrate hopes, and scenes of revenge and horror? Nay, thou knowestnot what thou askest. "

"It was not through mere curiosity I made the request. Those who loveyou would willingly know more, that they may be the better able topromote your welfare. "

"The motive, " said Holden, taking her hand, and holding it an instant, "is kind, my child; but what purpose would it serve? The time willcome when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed: then let thestory of my crimes and wrongs be blazoned to the world. "

Faith attached little credence to confessions of crimes which Holdenintimated he had committed. Had she done so, she might have felt alarmat being thus alone with him. But his presence, so far from inspiringher with terror, had something unaccountable of attraction. Hisself-accusation she considered exaggerations of a morbid fancy thatconverted common errors into unpardonable sins. Hers was a charitythat could think no evil, and in her imagination she had long sinceformed a theory that, to her pure mind, made him an object ofdeep interest. In Holden she saw a man of superior endowments andbreeding--his manners and language so far above those of most aroundher, proved both; who, by undeserved misfortunes had partially losthis reason, and, like the stricken deer, left the herd to die alone. Sometimes she would fill up the picture with scenes from his supposedlife, at one time of one character, and at another time of another;but they were merely sports of the Imagination, changing figures of akaleidoscope which employed without satisfying the mind. Of the truthof her general hypothesis she was quite convinced, nor without hopethat her old friend would be restored to society and the positionwhich she considered his due. As children instinctively know thosewho love them, so must Holden have originally had some idea of thefeelings of Faith, and by it been drawn closer to her. Certainly, there was no one in whose society he took more pleasure, or whom hewas more desirous to please. 

At this stage of the conversation, the door opened, and Mr. Armstrongentered. He advanced to Holden, whose hand he took, and welcomed withmuch cordiality. It was no new thing for him to see the Recluse inhis parlor. His daughter's partiality he well knew, of course; andalthough, in his opinion, it was somewhat extraordinary that a younglady should be attracted by Holden, he accounted for the circumstanceby ascribing it to the romance in her nature, of which she had nocommon share. 

The contrast was strong betwixt the appearance of the two men. Onthe one hand, in perfect harmony with the adornment of the handsomeparlor, stood the delicate person of Mr. Armstrong, with cropped hairand close-shaven face, in a suit of fine black cloth and muslin cravatof spotless white, representing a refined, perhaps enervated phase ofcivilization; on the other, the stately and vigorous form of Holden, in a clean but coarse gray frock, girt around the waist with a sash, with long hair falling on his neck, and unshorn beard, looking likeone better acquainted with the northern blast than with the comfortsof curtains and carpets. 

"It is not often, brother Holden, " said Mr. Armstrong, addressing himby an epithet sometimes applied to him, "that I am so fortunate as tomeet you in my house. "

"Dost thou speak from the heart, James Armstrong, " replied Holden, "orart thou flattering me with empty conventionalities?"

The melancholy face of Mr. Armstrong looked distressed, but, remembering the wayward humor of the other, he gently answered:

"I am sorry the form of expression displeases you; but I assure you Iam glad to see you. "

"Nay, " said Holden, "let me rather beg pardon for my rudeness; andthat I fully believe thee, be my presence here the proof. I owe theemany obligations through thy daughter, and there are times when itdoes me good to be with her. It is then I fancy I hear in her voicethe tones of the long lost, and they come not with a wail of sorrow, but like a welcome and an invitation. "

"The lost!" softly said Armstrong, falling insensibly, and as by somemesmeric process, into a corresponding train of feeling, "the lost!how soon drop away from our sides those who made the morning of lifeso pleasant!"

"Man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward, " said Holden. "Hecometh from the womb of darkness, and returneth thither again. "

The two men drew their chairs nearer each other. It seemed as if a newcommunity of thought and feeling had been established between them. 

"You have suffered, " said Armstrong, "perhaps lost all your dear ones, and, in that, more miserable than I; for, have I not left my Faith?But the hand that inflicted the wound can heal, and I trust the balmhas been poured in. "

The countenance of Holden was agitated; his lips trembled, and, in abroken voice, he replied:

"The nearest and dearest are gone. Yet hath God left me some comfortin my affliction. I am not entirely bereft. "

"In the promises of the Holy Scriptures you find consolation. Happythe soul that draws comfort from their sacred pages!"

"I meant not entirely so. But it avails not now to explain. Yet artthou right. I do find in the precious Book my dearest hope. Withoutit, I were miserable indeed. "

"And it sustains you under every trial and temptation?"

"Assuredly. For that very purpose was it given, that man might notsink under the mystery of existence; that in its pages he should findhope. "

"And you find in it the warrant of your salvation?"

"I strive to work out my salvation, with fear and trembling. "

"There are many who strive to enter, who shall not be able. How mayone be assured of safety?"

"There is a justification by faith. Hast thou never tasted of itssweetness?"

"Alas! no, " exclaimed Armstrong. "I have prayed for it, and longed forit in vain. The threatenings of the Gospel and not its promises aremine. "

"Father, dear father, how can you speak so wildly?" cried hisdaughter, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his palecheek. 

He looked at her a moment, then putting her away, gently, againaddressed Holden:

"Have you no word of comfort for me?"

"Faint not; neither be tired of well-doing, " answered Holden, "and Idoubt not that the cloud which now concealeth the divine countenancewill depart, and thou shalt attain the peace that passethunderstanding. "

"Have you attained it? Do you know what it is to be justified byfaith?"

"I have that blessed experience, " cried the enthusiast. "Those whom Hecalled He justified. I am a brand plucked from the burning--a monumentof abounding mercy. "

"Tell me, then, " exclaimed Armstrong, "what are the signs by which itmay be known?" He said this eagerly, and with an air of the intensestinterest. 

"I feel it, " cried Holden, rising and standing before him, "in thehatred that I bear towards all that conflicts with His will; in thelove with which I read His word; in the willingness to suffer allthings for the glory of His name, and to be damned for ever, if suchbe His purpose; I feel it in that, through His grace, I can tramplethe world under foot, and bear whatever cross His decree imposes; inthe struggle and the aspiration to be more like Him, and in that Hissovereign grace hath chosen me to reveal unto me His salvation and theknowledge of His speedy coming. "

It is impossible to convey an adequate idea of the manner in whichthis was spoken. Words cannot describe the voice, or paint the wildgleams of enthusiasm that, like lightning-flashes, coursed each otherover the features of Holden, as, without a gesture, and immovable as arock, an image of undoubting confidence, he delivered himself of thisextraordinary speech. Nor, carried away by its impassioned utterance, were either Armstrong or his daughter aware of its full fanaticism. But the impression made upon the two was somewhat diverse, and markedhow differently the chords of their minds were tuned. With all herreverence for the Enthusiast, Faith could not hear his wild avowalwithout pain, notwithstanding it was stamped with all the honesty ofconviction, and her own creed taught that such a degree of spiritualelevation might be attained; while her father listened with a sadadmiration, not unmixed with self-abasement and almost envy. 

After a pause, Armstrong said: "If such are the evidences ofjustification and a saving faith, then have I had them, too; but whybring they to me no confidence or holy joy? Why is my soul cast down, and why do I feel like one who stumbles towards a pit? Alas! my fleshquivers and my heart trembles at the thought of falling into Hishands. "

"It is prayer that opens heaven, " said Holden. "If thou wilt, we willunite our hearts in supplication. Peradventure the Lord may send ablessing. "

A mute assent was the reply from Armstrong; the three knelt downtogether, and Holden poured out a prayer, into which he concentratedhis glowing feelings. He described themselves as covered all over withcrimes, like a leprosy; as willful and determined rebels; as not onlyunworthy of the least of God's mercies, of the warm sun and refreshingrain, but deserving of the torments of the bottomless pit; butentreated that, devoid of all merit, as they were, and justly exposedto His wrath, their aggravated offences might be pardoned for the sakeof One who had taken their burden upon Himself, and that they mightbe of the number of the elect, whom the foreordination of God hadpredestined to salvation. He concluded with beseeching that the balmof peace might be poured into his afflicted brother's heart, that hisears might be opened to hear the truth, and his eyes to see how nearwas the great and terrible day of the Lord, and that, as in ancientdays chosen women were raised up to do mighty works, even so Faithmight be made an instrument to proclaim His power abroad. 

As the three rose from their knees, a change seemed, during theprayer, to have passed over the little circle. Holden was investedwith an authority not felt before. Neither his speech nor dress was asstrange as formerly. He had become a teacher to be honored. It was theinfluence of a mind originally powerful, and which, though shattered, exercised the control of a strong will, guided by an earnestfanaticism. 

CHAPTER X. 

 Thus as he spake, his visage waxed pale, And chaunge of hew great passion did bewray, Yett still he strove to cloke his inward bale, And hide the smoke that did his fire display. 

 SPENSER'S FAERY QUEENE. 

The request of Mr. Armstrong, supported by the pleadings of hisdaughter, prevailed upon Holden to remain to tea, and afterwardsto accompany them to the "conference, " as a meeting for religiouspurposes held usually on some particular evening of the week, wascalled. Upon the conclusion of the service he was to return withthem and pass the night at the house of his host. It was not withoutdifficulty he allowed his objections to be overruled, nor was he everknown before to have accepted such an invitation. But it had seemed oflate that as his influence with Miss Armstrong increased, so did hersover him, until he became unable to deny her slightest wish. Perhaps, too, the events of the afternoon, by bringing him more intimately intocommunion with sufferings like those through which he had passed, hadsoftened his sternness and disposed him more for human companionship. 

The little building where the "conference" met was of the humblestpretensions. It was a weather-stained, unpainted wooden edifice ofone story, standing at no great distance from the meeting-house, andcapable of containing comfortably, probably a hundred people. Theinterior was almost as rude and unattractive as the exterior, thewalls being coarsely plastered and dingy with smoke that had escapedfrom a cast-iron stove which stood in the centre of the room. Bencheswith backs were placed parallel to one another, and facing a sort ofrostrum or reading-desk, to which a passage betwixt the benches led. The inside work was equally innocent of paint as the outside. 

On the arrival of Mr. Armstrong with his companions, they found theroom only partly occupied, nor had the exercises commenced. Accordingto a custom which would have struck a stranger as singular, but which, doubtless, was founded in a knowledge of the nature of young men andyoung women, the males were seated on one side of the passage, andthe females on the other. The separation, as might be expected, onlypartly answered the purpose, being unable to arrest the glanceswhich, with quite as much of earth as of heaven in them, crossed theintervening space. These, however, were stolen, and managed in such aquiet way as not materially to affect the devotions of the elders. In compliance with an usage, a breach of which would have violatedpropriety, Faith, withdrawing her arm from her father's, glided intoa seat among her own sex on the right, while Mr. Armstrong and Holdensought places on the left. 

The appearance of the Solitary entering the little place of worship, striding up the passage with his usual air of dignity and composure, and taking a seat among the principal members of the church, occasioned great surprise. Although differing little, probably, inreligious sentiments (except in one point) from those around him, hehad never united with them in religious worship. He was, therefore, notwithstanding his frequent allusions to the Scriptures, consideredgenerally more in the light of a heathen than of a Christian man, andthe apparition of Plato or Socrates would hardly have excited moreobservation. Many, in consequence, were the looks bent on him by thosepresent, and those who afterwards came in. 

But of them, or of any sensation caused by his presence, he seemedutterly unconscious. With arms folded and head drooped upon his chest, he shut his eyes and abandoned himself to meditation. 

"Massy on us, " whispered Miss Green, the mantua-maker, to her nextneighbor, Miss Thompson, the tailoress, "if here ain't old Holden. Iwonder what fetches him here. "

"And did you see!" said Miss Thompson, whispering in like manner, "hecame in with the Armstrongs. I always did admire what they could seein him to like. "

"I guess, " said Miss Green, "he feels kind o' awkward. Look howhe's folded his arms. It's so long since he's been to meeting orconference, if he was ever in such a place before; he don't know howto behave. "

"There's no sort o' set about his clothes, " observed Miss Thompson. "They look as if he made them himself. "

"Perhaps he did, but they're good enough to go with Faith Armstrong'scloak" (which had been made by a rival artiste), responded Miss Green. "What dark colors she wears, no variety, and how dreadful old theymake her look!"

"Hush!" said Miss Thompson, "the deacon's going to open. "

During the colloquy of the two spinsters a grave, respectable-lookingman, somewhat advanced in years, had taken a seat behind thereading-desk, and opening the large Bible that lay upon it, selecteda chapter, and now invited the attention of the audience to itscontents. Upon its conclusion he gave out a hymn, the tune of whichwas announced by another person, who immediately on naming it pulledout a pitch-pipe from his pocket and making a slight sound, furnishedthe starting note. The singing proceeded principally from a certainpart of the room, as if by some understanding the singers had beencollected together, although scattered sounds also, of either rumblingbass or shrill treble whose trembling modulations betrayed theadvanced age of the performers, were here and there heard. Someof these guerrilla passages were sadly out of time and tune, andaccording to the humor of the hearer might either provoke a smileor start a tear. The gay and thoughtless might, indeed, laugh at thewavering and undecided notes, but to the reflecting mind there wassomething profoundly pathetic in the feeble tribute to the praise oftheir Maker, of those whose voices in the ordinary course of naturemust soon be silent in the grave. 

After the singing was ended, the person who had hitherto officiatedinvited Deacon Baldwin, calling him by name, to make a prayer. Hereupon the deacon rose, and folding his hands complied with therequest, while most of the congregation respectfully bent forward, or covered their faces with their handkerchiefs. The prayer evidentlycame from a sincere and earnest heart, but contained nothing thatrequires it should be recorded. Another hymn was then sung, upon theconclusion of which followed the sermon. 

The person who came forward to perform this office was a short, thick-set man, of middle age, with a bull neck. His features wereharsh and severe, and stamped with an expression of mortification, though the gross animality of the mouth and chin too plainly revealedhow many and desperate were the conflicts it must have cost him tobecome a saint. As he passed to the reading-desk his clothes brushedHolden, who shrunk from the touch. The Solitary looked up, but as ifwhat he saw was displeasing, he averted his face and shut his eyes. 

The first thing done by Davenport on reaching the desk, and casting afurtive glance around, was to draw an East India silk handkerchief outof his pocket, and having noticed a spittoon by his side, to blow hisnose sonorously. He then cleared his throat two or three times, andcommenced reading. 

It happened, singularly enough, that the subject was prophecy, considered as evidence of the divine inspiration of the Scriptures. The writer, after referring to the fulfillment of many propheciescontained in the Old Testament, came to those in the New, and amongstothers he spoke of that in which Christ alludes to the destruction ofJerusalem. He said that even in the times of the Apostles, there werepersons who, by putting too literal a construction upon the words, were misled into believing that the end of the world was at hand, andthat there had never been a time when there were not victims to thesame delusion. 

It was impossible, with reference to the condition of Holden'smind, to have selected either a topic or reader more unsuitable. Theaversion he had manifested at first increased every moment. It was oneof those antipathies as unquestionable as they are unaccountable. Itat first exhibited itself in restlessness, and an inability to remainquiet, and afterwards in half-suppressed groans and sighs. If heopened his eyes and looked at the reader, he saw a devilish figure, with a malignant leer glaring at him; if he shut them to exclude thedisagreeable image it was converted into a thousand smaller figures, dancing up and down like motes in a distempered vision, all wearingthat intolerable grin, while the whole time a hissing sound, as if itcame from a snake, whispered in his ears temptations to some deadlysin. It was a trial the shattered nerves of the enthusiast wereill qualified to bear, and, finally, a torture beyond his powersof endurance. The very force of the reasons urged by the writerdistressed him more and more. They seemed to his disorderedimagination the subtle enticements of an evil spirit to lure himfrom the truth, and Davenport an emissary of Satan, if not thearch-deceiver himself. No adequate answers to doctrines which he waspersuaded were false presented themselves to his mind, and this heascribed to some hellish spell, which fettered his reason, and mustsoon be broken, or he was lost. Mentally, then, first ejaculating aprayer, he suddenly sprung to his feet, and in a loud voice bade thereader to stop. 

"Forbear, " he cried, "man of sin, to seduce the people with thesesoul-damning and abominable lies. I conjure thee, Satan, to leave thebody of this man, and depart. Ha! thou wouldst lull them intosecurity that they may slumber and have no oil in their lamps whenthe Bridegroom cometh, when He cometh in the clouds of heaven. My soulhave not thou thy portion with the unbelievers. "

The words were uttered with wonderful vehemence and rapidity, and upontheir conclusion, he strode with long strides down the passage towardsthe door. Not an exclamation was heard, not a hand raised to stay hisdeparture, so stupefied were all with astonishment. Upon leaving theroom he rushed into the street, and, forgetful of his promise to Mr. Armstrong, took his way to his own hut. The tything man, awakeningfrom his lethargy, and a few others recovering their presence of mind, went at last to the door, and gazed up and down the street, but thedisturber of the meeting was not in sight, nor, sooth to say, wereany of the number sorry, or wished to meet him that night. Contentingthemselves, therefore, with this slight demonstration of zeal, theyreturned to the Conference-room. There, great as was the scandaloccasioned by the interruption, all things soon settled down intotheir usual course, and the meeting was regularly concluded anddismissed. 

CHAPTER XI. 

 _Angelo_. --We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror. 

 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 

The events of the preceding evening caused quite a sensation in thevillage. We shall better understand the various opinions and feelingsof the inhabitants by stepping, at about eleven o'clock the followingmorning, into the shop, or, as it was called in those days, and wouldgenerally be called now, the "store" of Truman and Jenkins. This wasan establishment at the foot of the hill, where it hung out its sign, in company with several others of the same character, which professedto supply all the wants of the community. Here everything was to behad from a gallon of molasses to a skein of thread, or a quintal ofcodfish, to a pound of nails. On one side, as you entered, were rangesof shelves, protected by a counter, on which were exposed rolls offlannels of divers colors, and calico and broadcloth, and other"dry goods, " while a showcase on the counter contained combs, andtooth-brushes, and soaps, and perfumery, and a variety of other smallarticles. The back of the store was used as a receptacle for hogsheadsof molasses, and puncheons of rum and wine, and barrels of whisky andsugar. Overhead and on the posts were hung pails, and rakes, and ironchains, and a thousand things necessary to the complete enjoyment ofcivilization. On the other side was a small counting-room partitionedoff, with a door, the upper part of which was glass, for theconvenience of looking into the shop, in order to be ready to attendto the wants of such customers as might come in. This little room, scarcely eight feet square, contained a small close stove, aroundwhich were gathered some half a dozen persons. 

"I say, squire, " exclaimed Tom Gladding, a tall, awkward, good-naturedlooking fellow, with legs sprawling out, and heels on the top of thestove, addressing himself to a man in a black suit, rather betterdressed than the others, "what do you think of this here rusty oldFather Holden cut up last night at Conference?"

Squire Miller, as one in authority, and who might be called toadjudicate upon the case, and for other reasons of his own, was notdisposed to commit himself, he, therefore, cautiously replied, _moreNovo Anglicano_, by asking another question, "Were you there, Mr. Gladding?"

"No, " said Tom, laughing; "the old folks used to make me go soregular, when I was a boy, I guess I've done my part. So after a whileI give it up. "

"It is a pity you ever gave it up, " said the squire. "You might get agreat deal of good from it. "

"There's two opinions about that, " said Tom. "You see, squire, as longas mother was alive, I always went with her regular, 'cause it kind o'comforted her, though somehow or other I never took to it. So when shedied I sort o' slacked off 'till now it's 'een amost two year since Ibeen in. "

"They say, " observed Mr. Jenkins, "they've took the old man up. "

"I'm sorry for that, " cried Tom. "To go to take up a kind o'half-crazy man for speaking in meetin'!"

"Why, " inquired the squire, "would you allow the man to go aboutdisturbing the neighbors as he pleased?"

"I never heard tell of his disturbing nobody, " said Tom. "Just takehim off his notions about the ten vargins and their lamps, and thejudgment day, and I don't know a likelier man than old Holden. In myopinion, he's a cleverer fellow than Davenport, by a long shot. "

"I don't believe he's been caught, " said a man in a pee-jacket, who, from his appearance, was a fisherman. "I passed his island thismorning about sunrise, with a boatload of oysters, and I see the oldman at his door. "

"Well, " observed Mr. Jenkins, "I hope he isn't. It's enough to makea body puke up his boots to hear Davenport, and I don't much blameHolden for cutting him short. "

"I heard somebody say, " said Gladding, "that the old man shook hisfist right in old Davenport's face, and told him up and down he was agood for nothing liar. I want to know if he can sue him, squire?"

"Why, as to that, " answered Miller, who being appealed to on aquestion of law, conceived it necessary to show his learning, "if aman strikes at me within striking distance, I can sue him for assault, though he shouldn't touch me. That I call one of the nice pints of thelaw. I decided so myself in the case of Samuel Pond _versus_ EzekielBackus. You see Pond and Backus had a little quarrel about somepotatoes Pond sold him, and Pond got mad, and told Backus he lied. Backus is rather hasty, and doubled up his fist, and put it nearPond's nose, and insinuated that if he said that again he wouldknock him down. " Here the squire paused, and looked round to see whatimpression he was making on his audience, and the momentary silencewas taken advantage of by Gladding to observe:

"That Pond's a mean cuss. "

The justice took no further notice of honest Tom's not verycomplimentary remark than to cast at him a look of angry surprise, which the other endured with complete indifference. 

"So, " continued Squire Miller, "Pond went to Lawyer Tippit, and hebrought the suit before me. Backus pleaded his own case, but he had afool for a client; the law was all against him, and I had to fine hima dollar and cost. "

"That's considerable to pay, " exclaimed Tom, "just for skinning sucha fellow's nose as Sam Pond's (I've heard of the case afore), but youain't said nothing, squire, about calling a man a liar. "

"Well, " said Squire Miller, "that's what we call a mute point. I heardthe affirmative and negative argued once by Lawyer Ketchum and LawyerTippit. Lawyer Tippit was the affirmative, and Lawyer Ketchum thenegative. Lawyer Tippit's principle was in _medio pessimus ibis_, while Lawyer Ketchum held _qui facit per alien facit per se_. They, therefore, couldn't agree, they were so wide apart, you see. So theyseparated without either giving up, though I think Lawyer Tippit had alittle the best of the argument. "

"Lawyer Tippit knows a thing or two, " said the fisherman, in a lowtone. 

Here Squire Miller handed to Mr. Jenkins twelve and a half cents, forthe four glasses of Jamaica he had drank, a portion of which some wayor other seemed to have got into his last speech, and took his leave. 

He had hardly left the store when who should come in but ConstableBasset, bearing in his hand a black staff, "having a head with thearms of the State thereon, " the badge of his office, as provided bylaw, and which he was required to carry "upon proper occasions. " Somesuch occasion had, in the judgment of the constable, evidently arisen, else it would not now be forthcoming. 

He was a bullet-headed, carroty-haired little fellow, with a snub noseand eyes so diminutive and deeply sunken, that but for the sparks oflight they emitted, they would have been undiscernible. The expressionof his face was like that of a wiry terrier, being derived partly fromhis occupation, which, in his opinion, required him to be as vigilantin spying out offenders as the aforesaid peppery animal, in scentingvermin, and being partly the gift of nature. But though the person ofBasset was small, such was not his opinion of himself. That was in aninverse ratio to his size, and at once the source of his highest joys, and, sooth to say, of an occasional mortification. But the formergreatly preponderated, and, on the whole, it was a pleasure toa benevolent mind to look at him, if for no other reason than toconsider how much enjoyment there may be in ignorance. 

As soon as Gladding set his eyes on the constable, he hailed him:

"Here, Basset, " he cried, "what are you going to do this morning withthat are stick?"

The constable did not much relish hearing the badge of an office whichhe esteemed one of the most important in the State thus lightly spokenof and degraded to a common stick; he, therefore, replied somewhatshortly--

"I guess, Mr. Gladding, you don't see the head of my staff, do ye?"

"Don't I?" said Gladding. "I know oldAuthority-by-the-State-of-Connecticut a mile off, without seeing hishead, I rather think. But what are you up to now?"

Basset, who, though no Solomon, had too much wit to admit every oneinto his confidence, answered:

"O, nothing; I was only looking for Squire Miller. "

"Why, " said Gladding, "he only left the store a minute ago. I sayBasset, you got a warrant agin old Holden?"

"Why, " said Basset, "what makes you ask?"

"Because, " replied Gladding, mischievously, who strongly suspecting anintention to arrest Holden, and knowing the constable's cowardice, was determined to play upon his fears, "I shouldn't like to be in yourskin when you go for to take him. "

"I'd like to see the man what would dare to resist when I showed himmy authority, " said the constable. "I guess I'd make him cry copeevyin less than no time. "

"Well, " said Gladding, who all this while had been leisurely whittlinga bit of white pine, "well, Basset, you know your own business best, and I'm not a man to interfere. My principle is, let every man skinhis own skunks. You haint no wife nor children, have you?"

"No, " said Basset. "What makes you ask?"

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. I always think it judgmatical, you see, to choose a man for constable who haint got no family; 'cause, if anyaccident should happen, 'twouldn't be of so much consequence. "

"I don't catch your meaning clear, " said Basset. 

"You'll catch it clear enough, I guess, " answered Gladding, "if Holdengits hold o' ye. "

"Now, Tom Gladding, you needn't think you're going to frighten _me_, "cried Basset, on whom the charm was beginning to work. 

"I never had sich an idea, " said Tom. "But folks does say he's adesperate fighting character. Did you never hear tell of Kidd thepirate, and his treasures, ever so much gold and silver, and rings andwatches, and all sorts o' trinkets and notions, buried somewhere alongshore, or perhaps on the old fellow's island? Folks does say thatwhen it was kivered, two men was murdered on the spot, so that theirsperits should watch it, and hender other folks from gitting on't. But them may be all lies. I heard tell, too, " he added, bending downtowards the constable, and speaking in a low, confidential tone, as ifhe wished to be overheard by no one, "that Holden's Kidd himself; butI don't believe a word on't. I tell you this as a friend of your'n, and I advise you to be prudent. "

Poor Basset left the shop, with a much less confident air than thatwith which he had entered it. The truth is, he had in his pocket, allthe while, a warrant issued by Squire Miller to arrest Holden, whichhe now most heartily wished he had never burnt his fingers with. He had heard before, the strange stories in circulation about theSolitary, but had listened to them with only a vague feelingof curiosity, without any personal interest therein, so that noimpression of any consequence had been made upon his mind. But now thecase was different. The matter was brought home to his own bosom. Herewas he, Constable Basset, required and commanded, "by authority of theState of Connecticut, " to arrest a man of the most violent character, "for, " said Basset to himself, "he must be a dangerous fellow, elsehow would he venture to insult a whole conference? Tom Gladding'smore'n half right, and I must look sharp. " Gladly would he haveabandoned the whole business, notwithstanding his cupidity was not alittle excited by the fees, but he doubted whether the sheriff, hisdeputy, or any other constable would execute the warrant in hisstead; nor did any plausible excuse present itself to account fortransferring it to other hands. Thus musing, with fear and avaricecontending in his breast, he walked up the street. But it may benecessary to tell how Basset got into the dilemma, and, in order to doso, we must retrace our steps. 

The interruption at the conference had not a little offendedDavenport. A pompous and conceited man, any slight to himself, anyfailure to accord a deference he considered his due, he felt sensiblyas an injury; much more, then, an open defiance and direct attack. That Holden or any one should have the hardihood, before an assemblageof his friends and acquaintances, to interrupt him and load him withreproaches, wounded his self love to the quick, and he fancied itwould affect his reputation and influence in the community were theoffence to be passed over without notice. He therefore resolved thatsomething should be done to punish the offender, though unwilling toappear himself in the matter, as that might expose his motives; andall the way home, his mind was engrossed with schemes to accomplishhis purpose. It was little attention, then, he be stowed upon the"good gracious" and "massy on us" of his better half, as, withindignation becoming the provocation, she kept herself warm, andshortened the way. But, notwithstanding, he was forced to hear them, and they affected him like so many little stings to urge him torevenge. So excited were his feelings, that it was some time before hefell asleep that night, long after notes other than those of music hadannounced the passage of Mrs. Davenport to a land of forgetfulness, though not before her husband had matured a plan for the morrow. 

Accordingly, after breakfast, Davenport walked round to the office ofMr. Ketchum. Ketchum was a young man, who, but a short time before, had, in the fortunate town of Hillsdale, hung out his professionalsign, or shingle, as people generally called it, whereon, in giltletters, were emblazoned his name and the titles of "Attorney andCounsellor at Law, " whereby the public were given to understand thatthe owner of the aforesaid name and titles was prepared with pen ortongue, or both, to vindicate, _à entrance_, the rights of all whowere able and willing to pay three dollars for an argument before aJustice Court, and in proportion before the higher tribunals. He wasa stirring, pushing fellow, whose business, however, was as yet quitelimited, and to whom, for that reason, a new case was a _bonne bouche_on which he sprung with the avidity of a trout. 

This gentleman Davenport found apparently lost in the study of arusset sheep-skin covered book. A few other books, bound in likemanner, were lying on the table, with pens and loose paper and anink-stand, among which were mingled files of papers purporting tobe writs and deeds. Against the walls were two or three shelvescontaining some dingy-looking books having a family likeness to theformer. 

After the usual compliments, Davenport made known his business. "Ascandal, " he said, "had been occasioned by the conduct of Holden, anda great injury inflicted on the cause of religion. It was for thatreason, " he intimated, "and not from any private feeling he wanted himbrought to justice. Some people think him a little touched, " he said, "though I don't believe it, and if it was only my own case I shouldoverlook his insults, for it is the part of a Christian to sufferwrong without complaining, but there's others to be thought of, andI'd sooner cut off my right hand than not do my duty. So, squire, "he concluded, "we must see if we can't learn him reason, and stop hisdisturbing the worship of God. "

"There is no difficulty about that, Squire Davenport, " said Ketchum, who was acquainted with the particulars of the occurrence of thenight previous, before the arrival of his client, having heard themdiscussed over breakfast at his boarding-house. "You have the plainestcase in the world. We'll soon put him through a course of sprouts. "

"How do you think we had better proceed?" said Davenport. 

"Why, " replied the other, opening the Statute Book, "you have at leasttwo causes of action; you can bring a civil action for the slander, and also proceed against him on the part of the State for theinterruption of the meeting. "

"I don't care about suing him on my own account, " said the client, who, perhaps, not reposing unlimited confidence in the young man'sknowledge of law, and doubting the success of a civil action, hadvisions of possible costs he might be obliged to pay floating beforehis imagination. Besides, Davenport was a shrewd fellow who had been"in the law" before; and experience taught him how to make allowancefor the natural anxiety of a new practitioner to obtain business. "No, I have no feeling about it myself, " said Davenport, "and it is myopinion we had better take him on the part of the State. "

"It is just as well, " said the attorney; "one suit will not interferewith the other. We can first proceed against him criminally, andafterwards bring an action for damages. "

"Well, well, " said Davenport, "now about the prosecution. "

"Then, " said Ketchum, opening the Statute Book at the title"Meetings, " after first running though the index; "we can take himunder the Act on the 492d page, entitled, 'An Act for preserving dueorder in town meetings, society meetings, and in the meetings of othercommunities, and for preventing tumults therein, '" and he read the actaloud. 

"I don't exactly like that, " observed Davenport, "The fine, in thefirst place, is only eighty-four cents, except the case is aggravated, when it is a binding over, and then the County Court cannot go overthirty-four dollars fine. There's no imprisonment and Tom Pownal orArmstrong would go bail, and pay the fine too, if it comes to that; sothere would be nothing gained by the operation. "

"Let as see if we cannot find something else, " said Ketchum, "to suityour taste better I think (for he now perfectly understood the temperof his client, and read the vindictive purpose of his soul, and, alas! was willing to descend to the meanness of ministering to itsgratification, )--I think it would be a reproach to the law if such ahigh-handed outrage should be permitted to pass unpunished. " He againreferred to the index and apparently finding what he wanted turned theleaves till he came to the title, "Workhouses. " "Here, " cried he, "atthe 688th page, in the seventh section, we have got him;" and he readfrom the Statutes a provision, authorising and empowering an associateor Justice of the Peace to send "'all rogues, vagabonds, sturdybeggars, and other lewd, idle, dissolute, profane and disorderlypersons that have no settlement in this State, to such workhouses, andorder them to be kept to hard labor' &c. ; and here on the next page, 'also such as are guilty of reviling and profane speaking. '"

"That last will do, if the law will hold him, " said Davenport. 

"Leave that to me, " said Ketchum. "That section will hold water ornothing will. Give me the names of your witnesses, and we will setthe mill a grinding. I suppose, " he added, carelessly, "you have noobjection to bringing the case before Squire Miller?"

"Oh, none in the world, " answered the other, who knew perfectly wellthe influence he exercised over the Justice. "But you haven't said aword about the Grand Juror to make the complaint. "

"That will be all straight, " replied Ketchum. "Two Grand Jurors I knowwere at the meeting, either of whom will answer our purpose. Trustthat to me, and I will attend to it. "

Hereupon, Davenport mentioned the names of the witnesses he wishedsubp[=oe]ned. "And now, Squire, " he added, "that this matter isconcluded between us, how comes on my case with Fanning?"

Ketchum felt some surprise at the question, although his countenanceexpressed none, for it was only a short time since he had gone overthe whole subject with his client, and the plan of operations hadbeen agreed on between them. He understood, however, the characterof Davenport too well not to know that he had a reason of his ownfor asking, and not doubting it would come out in the course of theconversation, he replied very composedly that it would probably bereached the next term. 

Davenport went on for awhile, talking of his case, Ketchum all thetime wondering at his drift, until, having concluded what it pleasedhim to say, he rose to take leave. After bidding good morning by wayof farewell, he walked to the door, when suddenly turning, as if thethought had just struck him, he observed--"By the way, if anybodyshould happen to notice that I had called on you, I have no objectionsto your saying I had a talk with you about that case of Fanning's. "

As soon as the door was closed, Ketchum leaned back in his chair andindulged in a low sarcastic laugh. "The old sinner, " he said, aloud;"he is a cute one; sharp as a pin, but needles are sharper. What aknack he has of whipping the devil round the stump! To look at thatman you would suppose he was too good for preaching. And he flattershimself he is imposing on me! He must get up earlier for that. It ismy opinion his only chance when his turn comes will be in cheating hisSatanic Majesty. Well, practice makes perfect, and he has enoughof it. I do declare, " he added, after a pause, as if scruples ofconscience were arising in his mind, "I am almost sorry I undertookthis business. But all trades must live. "

Consoling himself with this reflection, Ketchum started to hunt up thegrand juror. He found no difficulty in inducing him to make complaintto Justice Miller, having first satisfied him that an offence had beencommitted which the law compelled him to notice officially. 

Squire Miller, however, seemed disposed, at first, to take a differentview of the subject. He said he had known Holden a good many years, and never heard harm of him except that he was a little flightysometimes; but if the grand juror insisted, of course he would issuethe warrant. 

The minister of the law must have been inexorable, for the complaintwas made, and the warrant signed in due form and delivered to Bassetto be executed. 

CHAPTER XII. 

 _Esculus_. --Come hither to me, master Elbow, come hither, master constable. How long have you been in this place of constable?

 MEASURE FOR MEASURE

We have seen that when the constable left the shop he felt someanxiety about the proper course to be pursued. On the one hand werehis duty and avarice, on the other his fears. After some meditation hefinally effected a compromise between them, by adopting the resolutionto wait until the formidable Holden should make his appearance againin the village, where, he thought he would be less likely, inopen day, and surrounded by others, to resist, or, if he did, theassistance of the bystanders might be commanded. 

Two or three days passed in this manner, none, excepting the fivepersons above-mentioned, having any knowledge of the issuing ofthe warrant. The excitement had died away, and the little communitysupposed no notice would be taken of the occurrence, and, for the mostpart, were disposed that none should be. Meanwhile, Basset, like aspider in the centre of his web, watched for his victim, ready topounce upon him, as soon as the propitious moment should arrive. Itis curious how the desire to capture Holden increased with delay. Atfirst, and in the prospect of immediate danger, the business was farfrom being relished, but as time slipped along, and his mind becamefamiliarized to its contemplation, it began to assume something ofeven a tempting character. He began to fancy that if he could securethe Recluse, he should achieve for himself a reputation for courage, which he was far, at present, from possessing. Yet, still he desiredto discharge his commission in the most prudent manner. 

But Holden did not appear. Was it possible he could have obtainedinformation of the threatened danger, and was keeping himselfconcealed? At the thought, Basset stood two inches higher; his couragemounted rapidly, and the terrible pirate dwindled into a submissiveculprit. 

Ketchum, meanwhile, began to be importunate. He had become impatientat waiting, and demanded of the constable the reason of the delay. The latter, unwilling to confess the true cause, put him off with suchexcuses as his ingenuity suggested, until he had exhausted his stock, and was obliged to apply himself to the discharge of his duty. He, therefore, made up his mind to face the danger, but not to monopolizethe glory of the achievement. He dared not go alone, and accordinglylooked round for somebody to assist him in the perilous enterprise. Now, the veteran Primus, by virtue of his exploits in theRevolutionary War, and the loss of one of his legs on the field ofbattle, enjoyed a high reputation for bravery. Backed by the oldwarrior, or rather led by him, for Basset meant to yield him the postof honor, the constable thought he should stand a much greater chanceof success. He determined, therefore, to apply to Primus, secure hisservices, and take counsel with him on the best mode to apprehendHolden. With this view, he betook himself to the bachelor quarters ofthe black--a hovel on the outskirts of the village, where we find himat this present moment. 

"I hab some interjection, Missa Basset, " said Primus, evidently inreply to a proposition of the constable. "Suppose you come to ketchme, how I like to hab somebody help you?"

"No danger of that, Prime, " said Basset; "you are too clever a fellowfor me to go with a warrant after; and if it was your case, I shouldmore likely give you a squint of what was going on, than be plottinghow to git hold on ye. You don't know your friends, Prime. "

"Dey say 'tis a wise child dat know his own fader, " answered Primus. "Now, if a child dat see his fader ebery day, and been brung up inde same house, not know him, how is it possible dat I know you, MissaBasset, who neber before do me de honor ob a visit?"

"Why, " said the constable, who hardly knew what reply to make, "younever come to see me, Prime. "

"Dat is de trute, " said Primus, "and dat look as do you and me isno great friends, arter all. But, " added he, observing the other'sembarrassment, "dat is needer here nor dere. I always suspect you berymuch, sar, and is willing to do anything to obleege you. Tell us, now, 'xactly, what you want me to do. "

"Why, you see, I want somebody to go along with me to be there whenI take him, that's all. The island's three or four miles off, and Ishall want you to help row the boat. "

"O, if dat is all, I is 'greeable, " exclaimed Primus. "When you tinkof going, Missa Basset?"

"I ain't just made up my mind on that pint, and that's one thing Iwant to talk about. When will he be most likely to be at home? What doyou think? Had we better go in the morning, or wait till afternoon. "

"Dat inquire some deflexum. Let me see: I don't know about de day, atall. If he see you coming, he make off, probumbly, and den de job islost, and de fire is in de fat. De night is de best time, I guess, toketch dis kind ob fish. "

But this opinion did not suit the notions of the constable. 

"It won't be half so pleasant, " he said. "It's plaguy cold at night;and if it keeps on at this rate, the river will soon freeze up. Iexpect we can git him easier, too, in the day-time than at night. "

For some reason Primus seemed to entertain a decidedly contraryopinion. 

"You suspec', " cried he, "de ole man let you put you hand an him aseasy as Frisky wink (looking at a little mongrel, that at the mentionof his name jumped into his master's lap). Ketch a weasel asleep! Deold man beard too long for dat. "

"Why, I can't see, " said Basset, "what objections you can have if Itake the risk. You can't deny it's a great deal pleasanter in theday time than to go along shivering at night, and, perhaps, catch atarnation cold. So, Prime, what say to going down to-morrow in theforenoon or afternoon, I don't care much which? It's all one to me. "

"It's all no use, " persisted Primus. "You just hab to pay for de boatand my sarvices, and git noting. Dat is what I call a berry bad spec, Missa Basset. "

"Well, what's that to you, I tell you? If I choose to run the risk, that's enough, and you ought to be satisfied. You git your pay, andwhat more do you want?"

"Dere is someting more I want, " exclaimed the General, "I want desatisfacshum ob victory. I want de satisfacshum here, " he repeated, laying his hand on his breast. "Do you tink, sar, dat a genlmn, datfight in de Resolutionary war, and gib one leg, dat you may stand ontwo free leg, hab no feeling ob honor? Beside, dis old soger don'twant no bread he don't arn. "

"Well, I'll make a bargain with you, that if we don't catch Holden, you shan't have anything. That horse is soon curried. "

"Ah, dat won't do. My time is precious, and de hire is wordy ob delaborer. No, Missa Basset, if you want to go in de day time, you cango. Dere is nobody will hender you. But dis child you will please'scuse. Beside, dere is a good reason I say noting about 'cause Idon't want to hurt you feelings. "

"What's that?" said Basset. "Don't be afeared, spit it out. "

"Well, seeing as how you is so pressing you see I tink someting ob my'spectability. "

"Your what?" exclaimed the constable, utterly at a loss to imagine themeaning of the other. 

"My 'spectability, " repeated Primus, gravely. "You see, when I was ayoung man I sociate wid da best company in de country. I members detime when General Wayne (dey called him Mad Antony cause he fight solike de dibble) say afore de whole army dat haansome fellow--meaningme--look like anoder Anibal (Anibal I guess was a French General). Ah, " sighed Primus, "dey made more 'count ob colored pussons den, dandey does now. "

"What has all this to do with your respectability?" inquired Bassetwho began to be a little impatient. 

"I come to dat at de end ob de roll call, " responded Primus. "Do youtink it bery 'spectable now, for a man who, in his younger day, fightfor liberty, to go for to take it away in his old age from anoderman?"

"But just consider, " said Basset, whose cue was flattery andconciliation, "Holden went agin the very laws you made. "

"I make de law, Missa Basset?" roared Primus, "haw! haw! haw! I makede law, haw! haw! haw! does you want to kill me! O dear!"

"Yes, " said Basset stoutly, "and I can prove it. Now say, if theAmericans didn't make their own laws, wouldn't the British make 'emfor 'em? And who was it drove the British out and give us a chance tomake our own laws eh?"

"Pity you isn't a lawyer, " said Primus, suddenly abandoning his mirthat the other's explanation, "dere is a great deal in what you say--dewhite men owes a big debt to us colored pussons. Dat is a fust ratereason why I should want to see de law execute but not for me to gomyself in particular, when, perhaps de ole man point his rifle at me, and tell me to clear out. "

"Why, you don't think he'll resist?" cried the constable somewhatstartled, feeling the apprehensions revive which Tom Gladding hadoccasioned, but which the passage of a few days had almost lulledasleep. 

"'Tis bery hard to tell what a man do when he git in a corner, " saidPrimus, shaking his head, and fastening his eyes on the constable'sface, "but, if you want to know my 'pinion, it is just dis--if MissaHolden know what you up to, he make day light shine trough you, inless dan no time, rader dan be took. "

"Poh?" exclaimed Basset, affecting a courage he was far from feeling, "you're skeary, Prime. So, in your judgment, it's safer to go bynight, is it?"

"My 'pinion is made up on all de pints, " said Primus, resolutely, andbringing all his batteries to bear. "Dis case hab two hinge, de fustis de 'spectability, and de second de safety. Now, if any man suspectme to go on work ob dis a kind in de day time, when ebery body see mein you company, he as much mistake as when he kiss his granny for agal. De night is de proper time for sich a dark business, and it suitme better if I 'scuse altogeder from it. But I wish to 'bleege you, Missa Basset. Now, de second hinge is de safety, and it 'stonish medat an onderstanding man, and a man ob experunce and larning likeyou, Missa Basset, should dream o' going in de daytime. Dere stand oldHolden probumbly wid his rifle in de window and all he hab to do, hesee so plan, is to pull de trigger and den where is you, Missa Basset?Or perhaps, " he added laughing, "'stead ob shooting at you, he shootat me, and dat would be bery onpleasant. In de day-time, a coloredpusson make a better mark dan a white man; but in de night we has deadvantage. Haw! Haw!"

This was a view of things that did not please the constable atall, and the mirth of the negro appealed excessively ill-timed. He, therefore, said:

"Don't talk so, Prime; it's dreadful to hear you. Well, if you'reafraid, say so, and done with--"

"Me, 'fraid, " exclaimed Primus, "me dat is as 'customed to de bulletsas de roof to de rain! No, sar, you is better 'quainted wid de genlmendat is 'fraid dan dis child. "

"Don't git mad though, " said Basset, in whose mind one apprehensiondrove out another, and who began to fear he might lose altogether hisnew ally. "Everybody knows you're as brave as Julius Cæsar, Prime. "

"Please, sar, not to repair me to no Cæsar, " exclaimed the indignantGeneral. "De Cæsars ob my 'qaintance was nebber no great shakes. I haba better name dan dat. My name is Primus--dat mean, in Latin, fust--soI hear genlmn say, and Ransome, and de meaning ob dat is, dat in deglorious Resolution I run some arter de British (dough de foolishdoctor abuse me and say dey give me de name 'cause I run away), andputting bote togedder dey makes a name any genlmn may be proud ob. But, Missa Basset, what you going to gib me for dis job?"

"Why, a quarter'll be good wages, I guess. "

"A quarter ob a dollar! Do you s'pose I dispose myself to ketch coldon de ribber, and die afore my time, and arter dat to be shoot at, like a duck, for a quarter? I don't 'list on no such tarms. "

"We'll say a half. I'm inclined to be liberal, but I shall expect youto be lively, Prime. "

"Dat is too little;" grumbled Primus. "And who else you got to helpyou?"

"Why, hain't two enough? I might as well give up the job at once, anddone with it, if I'm to pay out all the fees. "

"One more will make all sure, " said Primus, who, prudent general thathe was, thought no odds could be too great against an enemy. "S'pose Ispeak to Missa Gladding to insist?"

"Tom Gladding be hung. I won't give him a cent. "

"But, " said Primus, who seemed determined to have his own way ineverything, "you no interjection, I guess, if it don't cost younoting. "

"No, " replied Basset, who was glad enough of another auxiliary, provided his own packet was not affected. "But, mind ye, I don't payhim a red cent. "

"I pay him myself, out ob my own pass. De danger won't be so much, andde work will be done up right, sartin. So, atween genlmn, de businessis settle. "

They parted with the understanding that the General was to seeGladding and induce him to take part in the enterprise, and that thethree would meet at a certain place in the evening, the constablebeing careful to repeat that he couldn't afford more than fifty centsfor any assistance that might be rendered. Primus accordingly calledupon Gladding, and the arrangement must have been satisfactory, forthe three were all at the place of rendezvous at the appointed hour. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

 "All these tales told in that dreamy undertone with which men talk in the dark, the countenances of the listeners only now and then receiving a casual gleam from the glare of a pipe, sunk deep in the mind of Ichabod. "

 Legend of Sleepy Hollow

It was on the village wharf that the coadjutors met. Basset, as hecontemplated the martial bearing of the General and the burly formof Gladding, felt comforted. The clouds that all day long had loweredabove his mental horizon parted, and patches of blue sky beganto appear. It was a cause of special gratulation to him, which herealized more sensibly in the darkness than by day, that assistance soimportant as Gladding's had been secured, and that without additionalexpense. He was confident now of an easy victory. The associatesjumped into the boat, the painter was cast off, the constable, asprincipal, took the steersman's seat, and Tom and Primus disposedthemselves to row. 

The night was neither clear nor dark, or rather was both by fits andstarts. Light fleecy clouds were constantly passing over the heavens, now gathering densely together and completely hiding the stars, andnow breaking up and revealing between the rifts then shining points. Alow wind softly moaned through the leafless trees on the banks of theSevern, sadly chiming in with the murmur of the tide, which rose quiteup to the Falls of the Yaupáae. In the indistinct light, just enoughto stimulate and keep in active play the imagination, softening awayall those harshnesses which the garish brilliancy of day discloses, and inviting the mind to supply with its own creations what is vagueand deficient, the village presented an appearance more attractive, if possible, than by day. Along the margin of the river, and upthe hill-sides, the lights scattered in every direction, and risingirregularly one above another, contended successfully with thestruggling stars to light the way of the adventurers; while a lowsound, the faint indication of life, hardly distinguishable from othernoises, rose from the village, for it was yet early in the night, and imparted a sense of security by the consciousness of humanpropinquity. But gradually, under the skillful strokes of the oars, the sounds became fainter and fainter, and one light after anotherdisappeared till, at a turn in the stream, the bold promontory ofOkommakemisit hid the town from view. 

A feeling of loneliness now, in spite of the presence of his twofriends, began to creep over the constable. So long as the lightshad been visible, he felt a strength derived from the vicinity of thehabitations of his fellow-beings, as if, were anything untoward tohappen, assistance was close at hand and ready to be proffered, butnow he might die a thousand deaths, and none be the wiser for hiswretched end. As these and other thoughts equally dismal chased eachother through his mind, the silence became more and more oppressive(for it was only now and then, hitherto, a word had been uttered), andit was with an emotion of thankfulness and relief he heard it brokenby the voice of Gladding. 

"I say, Primus, " he said, "do you know where you are?"

"I guess I does, " answered the black, speaking from between his shutteeth, which the necessity of retaining the stump of a pipe he wassmoking compelled him to keep tight together, "I is on de river'joying a row wid two white genlmn. "

"Any fool knows that, " said Tom, "though for the matter of theenjoyment, there might be two words about that. Some jugs has twohandles. "

"Well, if dat doesn't please you, I all in a shiver wid de cold. Mywood toe is almost freeze. "

"That's a plaguy curus thing, " said Tom. "You know Jim Hardy. Well Ihearn him say he can feel the fingers in his hand that was ground offin the mill, just an much as in tother. I expect your experience ispretty much the same. "

"Dat's a fact, " said Primus. "I can feel de foot and de toes just asmuch as ebber, only de leg is a sort o' kind o' shorter. Now, MissaGladding, you is a man ob gumption, can you splain dat?"

"Sartin, " said Tom, who didn't wish to appear ignorant to the presenceof the negro; "there's no great difficulty about that, though I ratherthink it takes more larning than you've got to onderstand the thing. You see, " he added, recollecting as well as he could some Latin wordshe had heard used by the doctor, "the narves of the rigdum flagdum incircumnavigating through the humorous rusticus, deflastigated by thehorrentibus oribus sort o' twist the aures arrectos into asinos, andthat you see, to a man of larning makes the whole thing as clear asone of elder Sillyway's sarmons. "

Primus fairly caught his breath at Tom's display of learning, whorose considerably higher also in Basset's estimation. After somewhatrecovering from his astonishment, and as if he had been reflecting onthe subject, the General said--

"Larning is a great ting, and perhaps you is right and perhaps youisn't, but I hear anoder way to 'count for it. "

"Out with it then, " cried Tom. 

"White folks, " said Primus, "hab one way to 'count for tings, andcolored pussons hab anoder way. Now I hear a colored pussun, who comeall de way from Africa, where dey onderstands dese tings, say it wasde jumbee. "

"The jumbee! What in natur's that!" inquired Basset, who had notbefore mingled in the conversation. 

"Now, none of your tricks, Prime, " cried Tom, suspecting the negroof an intention to mystify them with a jargon like that he had palmedoff; "jumbee ain't Latin. "

"Nobody say it was, " returned Primus, "I guess de old fellow nebberhab much chance to study Latin. He better 'quainted wid de shovel andde hoe. Dat mean in de Congo language, sperit. "

"Colored people are curus folks, " ejaculated Basset

"I don't see fairly what you're driving at yet, " said Gladding. "Suppose jumbee does mean sperit, what then?"

"I mean dat de hand turn into a sperit. Don't you see, Missa Basset, "exclaimed Primus, suddenly poking his wooden leg at the constable, "desperit ob my leg?"

"Don't, don't, Prime, " cried the startled constable, drawing backand nearly falling in his fright into the water. "What's the use oftalking about sperits now? Come let us talk about something else. "

"Well, " grinned Primus, "if you don't see de sperit, I feel him. "

"Don't talk so; you're spoiling all the pleasure of the sail by suchkind o' nonsense, " urged Basset. 

"Don't you believe in sperits?" inquired the persevering General. 

"I tell ye I don't like to talk about such things now, " respondedBasset. 

"Why I can give you chapter and varse for 'em, " said Tom. "Youremember, Basset, all about Samuel and the witch o' Endor, and that'sauthority, I guess. "

"Well, if I do I don't care to be chattering all the time about 'em, though there's some says, they don't appear now as they used to in oldtimes. "

This was an unfortunate remark for the badgered Basset. His twofriends, as if it were of the extremest consequence to convert himfrom an opinion so heretical, opened for his benefit a whole budget ofghost stories In spite of most unwilling ears he was obliged to listenwith a fascinated reluctance to tales of supernatural wonders, in mostof which the narrators had themselves been actors, or derived theirinformation from persons, whose veracity it would be a sin to doubt. Among them was a legend told by Gladding, of a murdered fisherman, whose ghost he had seen himself, and which was said still to haunt thebanks of the Severn, and never was seen without bringing ill-luck. Itis the only one with which we will trouble our renders, and we relateit as a sort of specimen of the others:

"You see, " said Tom, "it was the spring o' the year, and the shadbegun to swim up stream, when I joined Sam Olmstead's company, andtook a share in his fishing. Well, things went on pretty well for awhile, it was fisherman's luck, fish one day, and none the next, andwe was, on the whole, tolerable satisfied, seeing there was no use tobe anything else, though towards the end, it's a fact, there wasn'tmany schools come along. We had built a sort o' hut of boards by theside of the river where we kept the nets, and where some on us sleptto look after the property. Well, my turn came to stay at the shanty, and I recollect the night just as well! It was coolish, not so coolas this, though something like it, for there was some clouds floatingaround, but it was a good deal lighter, 'cause the moon was in herthird quarter. I felt sort o' lonesome there, all alone with the netsand the fish, and I don't know what I should have done but for someof the 'O be joyful' I had in a jug. I tried my best to fortify mystomach, and keep up my sperits agin the damp, but I didn't seem tosucceed. Finally, thinks I to myself, I'll go and take a snuff ofthe night air, perhaps it will set me up So I sort o' strolled downtowards the shore, and then I walked up a piece, and then I walkedback agin, and once in a while I'd step into the shanty and take apull at old Rye. Well, seeing as how it agreed with me, and I begun tofeel better, I kept making my walks longer and longer till I strolledto a considerable distance. It was in one of them turns I see theghost. I supposed afore that ghosts always appeared in white, but thisone didn't. He was dressed just like any other fisherman, in a darkgrey jacket and trowsers and a tarpaulin. It seemed to me at first hewanted to git out of the way, but I made tracks for him, for I didn'tthen a bit mistrust about its being a sperit, and halloed out, 'Who'sthat?' The sperit, as soon as he heard me, came straight up, and thenI noticed he had two fish dangling down by a string, and says he, ina sort o' hoarse voice, as if he'd caught cold lying in the ground, 'It's me; it's the ghost of Jimmy Lanfear. ' Well, when I heard himspeak so, my flesh began to kind o' crawl, though I didn't know but itmight be some fellow who had stole the shad out of the shanty, for Inever heard of ghosts carrying fish afore. So says I, 'What are youdoing with them fish?' Then, says he, 'Them ain't any real fish; seeif you can touch 'em. ' And then he swung 'em round and round in themoonlight, and I did my best to catch 'em, but I might just as wellhave snatched at the moonshine, for my hands went right through 'emagin and agin, till I stubbed my toe, and fell somehow, and when I gotup, the sperit was gone. Then I knew it was Jim Lanfear's sperit, who was murdered years ago right opposite the spot where I asked you, Prime, if you knew where you was; and I was sartin the luck was all upfor that season, and sure enough it was, for we didn't make more'n twoor three hauls more of any consequence. "

"I am sure dere was one sperit dere, " said Primus, in a musing way, and shaking his head. 

"Now, Prime, what do you mean by bobbing up and down your wool? Doyou intend to signify, you unbelieving old scamp, you doubt my word? Itell you I was no more corned than I am now. Why, if you want to, youcan see Jim almost any dark night. Perhaps he's walking along shorenow. "

"What dat?" cried Primus, pretending to see something on the land. 

Basset started, and strained his eyes through the darkness in thedirection indicated, but could discover nothing. The vision of Primusand Gladding was better. 

"Don't ye see someting, " said the former, lowering his voice, "rightunder de bank. I can't just see de shape, but it seem as if it swim inde air widout legs. You eyes is younger, Missa Gladding; guess dey seefurder dan mine. "

"I can make him out now, " whispered Gladding. "It's a man, sure asrates Golly!" he exclaimed, suddenly, "if it ain't Jim--look, Basset, look. "

The constable had listened in an agony of terror to the colloquy, and at the exclamation of Primus, availing himself of his post assteersman, turned the bow of the boat towards the opposite shore, to place as great an interval as possible between himself and thespectre. The action had not passed unnoticed, though neither of hiscompanions made any remark upon it. Repeatedly his head had flownround over his shoulder, to catch a glimpse of what he dredded tosee, but, notwithstanding the excitement of his imagination, he couldbehold nothing. 

"O, Tom! O, Prime!" exclaimed the poor fellow, "let us go home. I wishwe was fairly out of this scrape. "

"Why, " said Tom, "we're 'most there now. We should be laughed at ifwe was to give it up so. Who's afraid o' sperits? They're nothing butmoonshine. I vow, " he cried, pointing over the opposite side of theboat, "if he ain't there agin! Look, Basset. "

But Basset was too busy with his paddle to look. With a twist of hiswrist he had whirled the bow of the boat in the direction of the bankthey had just left, and was paddling away for dear life. This timehe appeared to arrive at the condition that the middle of the streamwould be the safest position, and having attained that, he kept, asnearly as he could judge, at equal distances from the banks. A shortspace only now remained to be passed over, and in a few moments theywere abreast of the island. Here the two men rested on their oars, anda whispered consultation was held, at the conclusion of which theboat was quietly pulled towards the goal. This was not done, however, without another attempt on the part of the constable to postponethe capture for that night, but the proposal was overruled by hisassociates, who scouted at his fears, and declared there was nodanger. 

Basset's nerves were in a shocking condition. The doleful storiescroaked into his ears the whole passage down; the darkness of thehour; Holden's terrible character; and the remoteness from anyassistance other than that of Gladding and Primus, in whom hisconfidence diminished every moment, conspired to throw him into theabjectest trepidation. But there was no retreat; Gladding was asobstinate as a mule, and as for the General, true to his militaryreputation, he insisted on advancing, and the unfortunate officer ofthe law, who was as much afflicted, with spiritual as with materialfears, found himself in a dilemma, the solution of which was takenaway from him. No alternative remained. He must, be the consequenceswhat they might, see the adventure through. Borrowing, therefore, courage from despair, with a timid step and palpitating heart, he leftthe boat and closely followed his companions. 

No light was visible, and the constable began to hope that Holdenwas away from home, and made the suggestion that since such wasundoubtedly the fact, they had better return and come another time. But Gladding, pointing to a canoe not before observed, convincedBasset of the contrary, and it was then agreed that they should firstaccording to the plan arranged approach the cabin and reconnoitrethrough the window. This being the post of danger was offered toBasset who however could be prevailed on by no entreaties to acceptit which finally forced Gladding to volunteer. They all stood now ona side of the hut where there was neither door nor window, being, indeed, the side they had been careful to approach in the boat. Gladding was to steal to one of the windows and after examining theinterior (if possible) to return and apprise them of his discoveries. Accordingly he started off. 

He had been gone but a few minutes when Primus began to be uneasy andproposed to change their position to one nearer the hut their figuresbeing too much exposed where they were, in consequence of standingin relief against the sky and water. The constable would gladly havestuck by the boat, as furnishing a means of retreat, but dared notremain alone. Reluctantly therefore, and cursing the obstinacy of theprovoking black he crouched his body towards the ground, and followedin the rear of the General, that brave officer seeming disposed totalk louder and make more noise generally than pleased his companionwho, from time to time, earnestly remonstrated with him on theimprudence. 

"What dat!" suddenly exclaimed Primus recoiling on the other andpointing with his hand directly in front. 

"Where? where?" whispered Basset, with his heart in his mouth raisinghimself, and catching bold of Primus' arm. 

"Hush!" said the General, "is dat a groan?"

At that instant a tremendous blow was applied to the shoulders of theconstable which sent him flat upon his face, dragging the General whocaught a part of the application after him. As Basset fell hishat dropped off and a paper flew out which Primus picked up andimmediately pocketed, hastening then as fast as his wooden leg wouldpermit towards the boat which lay only four or five rods distant. There he found Gladding preparing to push off, and scrambling in, theyhad just succeeded in getting her afloat, when Basset, without his hatflung himself, in the extremity of his terror, headlong in, pitchingPrimus down upon the bottom, breaking his wooden leg, and capsizingTom into the water. It was so shoal that he found no difficulty ingetting in again, escaping with only a thorough ducking. It was now_sauve que peut_, and the three addressed themselves, so far as theirbewildered faculties would permit, to the business of escape. 

Thus closed the adventures of that disastrous night. All the way home, Primus kept groaning over the loss of his leg, the only consolationhe could extract out of the calamity, being that it was easier to mendthan one of flesh, and cheaper, and upbraiding Basset with his hasteand carelessness. Gladding insisted on being landed in order toprevent, by exercise, taking cold, threatening in his turn theconstable, that if his clothes were spoiled he should come upon himfor the damage. Poor Basset, quite confounded by these harrowingevents, had not a word to answer, and replied only by shruggingand twisting his shoulders with pain. The departure of Tom made itnecessary for him to assist the negro in rowing back the boat, whichhe did with a handkerchief tied about his head, which Primus lent himand wincing with the soreness of his bones, the negro interspersedhis moans with expressions of sorrow over their ill luck and of wonderwhether it was Holden or the ghost of the fisherman that assaulted theconstable vowing he would "hab satisfacshum for de loss ob de leg. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

 _Celia_. --Here comes Monsieur Le Beau, _Rosalind_. --With his mouth full of news. 

 AS YOU LIKE IT. 

"You strike dreadful hard, Missa Gladding. If you can't write, I guessyou can make you mark, " said the General, rubbing his shoulders. 

"I was larned to do one, and t'other come natural, " said Tom, laughing; "but I didn't lay it on a bit too hard. You see I had tobring him a pretty good polt, so as to lay him flat, else he might ha'found it all out, the good-for-nothing son-of-a-gun, to go to sarve awarrant on an old man, just for speaking his mind in meeting. I goin for liberty. And then to insult you and me, Prime, by asking usto help him! But I didn't mean to strike you, except in the way offriendship. "

"You friendship too smart for me, Missa Gladding, and s'pose I breakmy neck in de fall, what you friendship good for den?"

"But you hain't broke nothing but your leg, and I see you've gotanother rigged, and the half dollar Basset give you will more'n payfor that; though, if I was you, I'd come down upon him in damages forthe loss--'twas in his sarvice--and then his digging his head rightinto your stomach, when he come thundering into the boat, I call aregular assault and battery. "

"How you like you cold duck wid sea-weed saace, Missa Gladding?"retorted Primus; and here the two united in peals of laughter. 

"Cunning fellow, dat Basset, " said Primus. "He kill two bird wid onestone--knock me into de bottom ob de boat, and chuck you oberboard, all at once. " And the merriment was renewed. 

"Do you think he has any suspicions, Prime!" said Tom. 

"Dat question acquire some reflexum, " answered the General. "Whedderit was old Holden or de fisherman ghost dat gib him de strike on deback?"

"No, I don't mean that. I mean whether he thought you or me hadanything to do with it. "

"I guess not, " said the General, doubtingly. "If sich an idee git intohis head, somebody will put it dere. "

"Well, what did he say coming home?"

"Not much; dere he set in front, wid his back to me, rowing, and hishead all tie up wid my bandanna, and he seem sort o' snarl up, as ifhe want a night's rest to take de kinks out ob him. He was not much'cline to 'greeable conversashum. I feel kind o' sorry when I see himso mellancholliky like. "

"You needn't be so liberal with your sorry. The scamp desarves it alland more, too. The cretur's cheated us out of half our fun. " How Ishould ha' liked to leave him, as we intended, alone with old Holdenon the island! The chicken-hearted booby would ha' half died o'fright, and then 'twould ha' been worth nuts to see how he looked whenthe old man caught him in the morning, and asked after his business. "

"He nebber stay till dat time. He would hab swum 'cross de channel, and run home. "

"Well, he'd found out, then, how a fellow likes to be soused in thewater, as the blundering blunderbus did me, darn him. "

"O, nebber bear no malice. I 'scuse Basset 'cause he don't know nobetter, and you must forgib him. "

"As to that, you needn't fret your gizzard. But how did you git home, Prime, with your broken leg?"

"Dat is a secret atween me and Basset; but I didn't walk. "

"Then, I vow, " said Tom, bursting into a laugh, "he either trundledyou along in a wheelbarrow, like a load o' pumpkins, or else carriedyou on his back. "

"Nobody roll me in a wheelbarrow, " said the General, drawing himselfup, and affecting to be offended. 

"I would ha' given all my old shirts to see a darkey riding Basset, "said Tom, whose merriment increased the more he dwelt on the idea. 

"A colored pusson as light complexum as a white man in de dark, "exclaimed Primus, grinning. 

"Well, old Prime, you're the cleverest nigger I ever did see, " saidTom, slapping him on the back, and still laughing; "but take care youdon't feel too proud after your ride. Put a nigger on horseback, andyou know where he goes. But what have you got there?" he inquired, seeing the General draw a paper out of his pocket. 

"Dis paper fall out ob Missa Basset hat when de ghost strike him lastnight, and I pick him up. "

"Golly! if it ain't the warrant. Prime, you're the ace o' clubs. I'mgladder of this than if I found a good dinner. "

"Well, what shall I do wid him?"

"Why, man, burn it up; it's the constable's sword and gun, andbaggonit and cartridge-box; he can't do nothing without it; why, without the warrant, he's just like a cat without claws. He daresn'ttouch a man without a warrant. "

"If Missa Basset trow de paper away, I 'spose he don't want him, andhe ain't good for noting, and nobody can find fault wid me for burningup a little piece ob waste paper, just to kindle de fire, " saidPrimus, throwing the warrant into the flames, where it was immediatelyconsumed. 

"There, we've drawn Basset's eye-teeth now, " said Gladding. "Holden'sas safe as you or me. And, Prime, " he added, rising, and, as he tookleave, making a peculiar gesture with the thumb of his right handtouching the end of his nose, and his fingers twinkling in the air, "you're too old a fox to need teaching, but it will do no harm to sayI advise you to keep as dark as your skin. "

Such was the conversation that, on the morning after the adventure ofthe island, took place at the cabin of Primus, and the reader will nowperfectly understand (if, indeed, he has not before discovered it) therelation which the associates bore to the constable. Yet, therewas some difference in the feelings of the two: Gladding felt onlyunmitigated contempt for Basset, while the good-nature of the negro(proverbial of the race) infused some pity into the sentiment. 

"Tom Gladding hab no manners, " said Primus to himself, after thedeparture of his friend. "It is bery onpleasant to hear sich pussonalinflections. But, probumbly, arter he keep company wid me a littlelonger, he larn better. "

How it got out, nobody could tell. Tom and the General both declaredthey had said nothing about it, and Basset was equally positive he hadnot opened his mouth. It is, therefore, singular that, before twelveo'clock the next day, rumors of the adventure had reached the ears ofmore than one-half the inhabitants of Hillsdale. True, none were veryaccurate, nor did any two agree; for, as is apt to happen, in suchcases, each one who told the story took care, most conscientiously, it should lose nothing in the repetition. Hence, before noon, it was, like most of our modern literature, "splendidly embellished. "

It was not strange, then, that the doctor, in his morning round amonghis patients and friends, should get some inkling of it. Divested ofornaments, enough remained to satisfy him that an attempt to arrestHolden had been made. For the cause, he was at first at a loss; for, though he had heard of the disturbance at the conference, he hardlysupposed that an offence which he regarded as so venial, wouldhave drawn along such serious consequences. But when he heard thatgenerally assigned as the reason, having no words of his own toexpress his astonishment, he was obliged to resort to his unfailingtreasury--

 "'Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer cloud, Without our special wonder?'"

The quotation did not seem fully to answer the purpose, and headded, "Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun: it shineseverywhere. " This gave him relief. It acted more soothingly thanhis own anodyne drops; and, having thus recovered his equanimity, hedetermined to ascertain if the Armstrongs had heard the news. 

He found Miss Armstrong at home, but not her father. 

"You have heard the news, Faith, this morning. I suppose?" said thedoctor. 

"No; we are not much like the Athenians. Neither my father nor myselfare accustomed to get the first edition. What is it, doctor?"

But the doctor did not relish being called, by the remotestimplication, an Athenian. As inquisitive as the most prying Yankee issaid to be, he stoutly repelled the imputation of inquisitiveness, asapplied to himself or to his countrymen. "It was, " he was in the habitof saying, "a slander invented by your porter-guzzling Englishmen andsmoking Dutchmen. What can you expect of people who are involved ina perpetual cloud either of their own raising or of the making ofProvidence? They are adapted to circumstances. It never was intendedthey should have more than one idea a week; it would be too much fortheir constitution; and therefore they ask no questions. No wonder, then, they feel uncomfortable when they get into a clear climate, where they can see the sun, and hear ideas buzzing about their earslike a swarm of bees. "

The doctor appeared to have forgotten his own question, and not tohave heard Miss Armstrong's. 

"You are looking remarkably well, " he said. "You ought to be ashamedto meet me: if everybody else were like you, I should starve. "

"All your own fault, dear doctor. Your presence brings cheerfulnessand health. "

"To say nothing of the medicine. Of that (in confidence between us), the less the better. If I should ever become crazy enough to prescribeany other than bread pills, be sure to throw them out of the window. There, you have the secret of medical success; though if I pursue thesystem much longer, I think I shall be obliged to adopt the Emperorof China's plan, and require a salary for your health, on condition itshall stop when you are sick. "

"I admire the Emperor's plan, so let it be understood that is thearrangement between us. I have the best of the bargain, for I shallsecure a greater number of visits. "

"You provoking creature! smothering me with compliments, andpretending you are not dying with curiosity. This is always the waywith your tormenting sex:

 'Let Hercules do what he may, The cat will mew'"--

"And girls will have their way, " interrupted Faith, laughing, andfinishing the quotation to suit herself. "But, doctor, you haveconquered, and please now 'unmuzzle your wisdom. '"

"Methinks, " cried the doctor, "'sometimes I have no more wit than aChristian or an ordinary man; but I am a great eater of beef, andI believe that does harm to my wit, ' else I should not allow you totease me. But, " added he, in a more serious tone, "there is a reportin the village that an attempt has been made to arrest Holden. "

"To arrest whom?" exclaimed Faith, turning pale, "father Holden! Forwhat?"

"He is not taken yet, and, were one to believe all the stories onehears, not likely to be. According to them, his enchanted castle onSalmon Island is protected, not only by his own stalwart arm, but bylegions of ghosts and hobgoblins; and, since that is the case, hemay safely defy the _posse comitatus_ itself, with the sheriff at itshead. But, for the cause--

 "'It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, Let me not name it to you, ye chaste stars, It is the cause'--

Why, because he made the most interesting speech at conference theother evening. "

Miss Armstrong, whom the jesting manner of the doctor somewhatre-assured, begged him to give her all the information he hadobtained; but, throwing aside what he considered the embellishments offancy, it was no more than what he had already imparted. 

"What would be the punishment for such an offence?" inquired Faith. 

"I am more learned in pills than in points of law; but I suppose sometrifling fine. "

"It would be of no great consequence, were it any one else, " saidFaith; "but it would grieve me to have Mr. Holden subjected to anindignity he would feel sensibly. It was through my father's andmy entreaties he attended the meeting, and if censure is to fallanywhere, it ought to alight on us, and not on him, who certainlysupposed he was performing a duty, however much he might be mistaken. Dear doctor, I shall trust in you to watch that no harm befalls him. Ishould forever reproach myself as the cause, if any did. "

"You may rely on me, my dear. It is not so much on account of the oldfellow, who richly deserves to be fined and shut up a week forrunning about the country and frightening the children with his longbeard--why my horse started at it the other day--but because you takean interest in him, and I am above all jealousy; therefore, commandme, 'Be't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curled clouds; to thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality. "

"My commands will not be so difficult to perform, I trust, " saidFaith, smiling. 

"Understand me metaphorically, parabolically, poetically, " cried he, taking leave. 

After he was gone Miss Armstrong sat musing over what she had heard. The idea that any annoyance should happen to the Solitary, growingout of a circumstance with which she was in some manner connected, distressed her exceedingly, and, dissatisfied with the meagrestatement of the doctor, she determined to go over to Judge Bernard's, to try to procure more satisfactory information. 

"He will, at least, " she said, "be better acquainted with the law thanDoctor Elmer, and there is no favor he will refuse me. "

But the Judge was unable to add anything of importance. He had heardthe same rumors, but could not vouch for their truth. With regard tothe issuing of a warrant for such a cause, he could not say but thatpersons might be found malignant enough to get one out, and justicesof the peace foolish and ignorant enough to be made their instruments, but if it came to the worst, the penalty could only be a fine, whichhe would gladly pay himself. 

"He cannot be imprisoned then?" inquired Miss Armstrong. 

"No; they would not dare, " he said, to himself in a tone so lowthat Faith could catch only a word or two here and there, "sendhim--disorderly--no settlement--no, no--too bad--might be done. No, Faith, " he said, "you need anticipate no serious trouble about your_protégé_. "

"Cannot we prevent his being arrested? It would mortify himexceedingly. "

"For that, perhaps, there is no remedy, but we will see. We are allequally amenable to the laws. But after all, the thing may not benoticed. These may be only rumors put out by some mischievous personto keep Holden away from the village. "

"They can have no such effect. "

"No: and yet the rogue who invents them may think they will. "

"I should not be at all anxious, Faith, " said Anne. "Here are myfather, and yours, and my chivalrous brother, and--"

"And Mr. Thomas Pownal, " said Faith, smiling, observing she hesitated. 

"Yes, and Mr. Pownal; I am sure they would all be happy to spend agreat deal of breath and a little money in your service. They willprotect Father Holden. What are the gentlemen good for, if they cannotgrace a fair lady thus far?"

"And Mistress Anne, should they fail, would, like another Don Quixote, with lance in rest, charge the enemy, and release the captive knight, herself, " said her father, pinching her cheek. 

"Like Amadis de Gaul, father, and then would I present the captive ofmy sword and lance to you, Faith, though what you would do with him Ido not know. "

"Do not let us hear of swords and lances from you, Anne, " said hermother. "Thimbles and needles become you better. "

"If I had been a man, " exclaimed Anne, "and lived in the olden time, how I would have gloried in such an adventure! You, Faith, should havebeen the distressed damsel, I the valorous knight, and Father Holden acaptured seneschal. How would I have slashed around me, and howwould you have blushed, and hung about my neck, and kissed me, when Iappeared leading by the hand your venerable servitor!"

"What! what!" cried her father, "before the seneschal?"

"He would be so old he could not see, or, if he was not, tears of joywould fill his eyes so that they would blind him, " said Anne. 

"An excellent idea, my dear, " said Mrs. Bernard: "hand me myknitting-work. "

"What! a knight hand knitting-work?"

"Certainly, " said her father. "It is a knight's business and delight, to be employed in the service of the fair. "

"Here is your knitting, mamma. I am an enchanted knight, changedby some horrible incantation into a girl, " said Anne, resuming herneedle. 

"Worth twice all the preux chevaliers from Bayard down, " said theJudge, kissing her blooming cheek. 

"Who is in great danger of being spoiled by the flattery of her fondfather, " said Mrs. Bernard, smiling. 

"Dear mother, how can you speak so of an enchanted knight?"

"I will crave your aid in the hour of peril, Sir Knight, " said Faith, rising. "Meantime, accept this kiss as guerdon for your good will. "

"Or retainer, " said the Judge. 

Faith left her friends in better spirits than she had met them. Theassurances of Judge Bernard had relieved her mind of a weight ofanxiety. It was evident, she thought, from the manner in which thesubject was treated by the family, that they felt no apprehensions. The gaiety of Anne, too, had not failed of its design. It was, indeed, scarcely possible to be in the presence of this sweet girl withoutfeeling the charm which, like the sun, radiated light and happinessabout her. It was the overflow of an innocent and happy heart, and asnatural to her as light to the sun, or fragrance to the rose. 

Faith found her father in the house on her return. She communicated tohim what she had heard, and asked his opinion. He knew, he said, thatwhile there were some--probably the majority--who, regarding Holden'sconduct as only an impropriety, would be disposed to overlook it;there were others who would desire to have him punished, in orderto prevent a repetition of such scenes. "Such, " said he, "are thefeelings of the world, but they are not mine. So far from deservingcensure, Holden is entitled to all honor and praise, for he spoke fromthe inspiration of conviction. Nor, whatever may be the attempts toinjure him, will they succeed. As St. Paul shook the deadly viper fromhis hand, so will this man rid himself of his enemies. There are morewith him than against him, and the shining ones are the stronger. "

The confidence of her father harmonized so well with the hopes ofFaith, that it was easy to participate in it, nor in the excitementwhich she felt, did his language seem other than proper for theoccasion. 

CHAPTER XV. 

 See winter comes to rule the varied year, Sullen and sad with all his rising train Vapors and clouds and storms. THOMSON'S SEASONS. 

The charming poet depicted truthfully, doubtless, as well aspoetically, the English winter, but such is not the character of theseason in New England. Clouds and storms, indeed, herald his adventand attend his march; capricious too his humor; but he is neither"sullen" nor "sad. " No brighter skies than his, whether the sunwith rays of mitigated warmth but of intenser light, sparkles o'erboundless fields of snow, or whether the moon, a faded sun, leadingher festal train of stars, listens to the merry sleigh-bells and thelaugh of girls and boys, ever glorified a land. What though sometimeshis trumpet sounds tremendous and frowns o'erspread his face!Transient is his anger, and even then from his white beard he shakesa blessing, to protect with fleecy covering the little seeds in hopeentrusted to the earth, and to contribute to the mirth and sports ofman. 

A few days have passed since the occurrences last detailed. Theweather had gradually become colder; the ground was as hard as astone; there had been a heavy fall of snow, and the streets weremusical with bells. The snow had fallen before the intense coldcommenced, so that the glassy surface of the ice that bridged therivers and lakes was undimmed, and presented unusual attractions tothe skaters. 

It was on the afternoon of a fine day that the smooth Severn, hardenedinto diamond, was covered, just where the Yaupáae and the Wootúppocutunite, to give it form and an independent being, with a gay throngof the people of the village of both sexes. They were mostly youngpersons, consisting principally of boys from school (for it wasSaturday afternoon) with their sisters. Besides these were some youngmen and women, with here and there one more advanced in years. 

It was a scene of gaiety and exuberant enjoyment. The children letloose from school, where they had been confined all the week, put nobounds to the loud and hilarious expression of their delight, whichthe seniors showed no disposition to check--remembering they once werechildren--and the banks of the stream rung with shouts and answeringcries and laughter. Here, flying round in graceful curves, a dexterousskater cut his name in the ice; there, bands of noisy boys wereplaying tag, and on the ringing steel pursuing the chase; while everyonce in a while down would tumble some lubberly urchin, or unskillfulperformer, or new beginner, coming into harder contact with the frozenelement than was pleasant, and seeing stars in the daytime, whilebursts of laughter and ironical invitations to try it again, greetedhis misfortune. In another place were girls on small sleighs or sleds, capable of holding two or three, whirled along by half-a-dozen skaterswith great rapidity; while, holding on to handkerchiefs, were othersdrawn upon their feet at less hazardous speed. Dispersed among thecrowd were little boys with flat, tin boxes suspended by a strapfrom their necks, containing molasses candy, whose brittle sweetnessappeared to possess great attraction. All was fun and jest, and laughand merriment. 

Among others, allured by the beauty of the day, which though clear wasnot so cold as to be uncomfortable, to witness the sports, were FaithArmstrong and Anne Bernard, escorted by Pownal and young Bernard. Thecheeks of the ladies were crimsoned by the wholesome cold, and theireyes shone with a brighter lustre than usual, and many were the looksof envy or of admiration cast upon them as they passed, greeting theiracquaintances and joining in the revel. 

At the time when the little party arrived there happened to be acircle gathered around one of the most accomplished performers towitness an exhibition of his skill, and surely nothing could be moregraceful. Without sensible effort, and as if by mere volition, heseemed to glide over the glossy surface, now forwards, now backwards, now sideways, now swiftly, now slowly, whirling like an eagle in rapidor dilatory curves, describing all the lines that Euclid ever drew orimagined, and cutting such initials of the names of the spectatorsas were desired. The performance, though hailed with verygeneral expressions of admiration, did not seem to give universalsatisfaction. 

"He does pretty well, " said an elderly man, with a woollen scarf ormuffler about his neck and a fox-skin cap on his head, "He does itpretty well; but, Captain, did you ever see Sam Allen?"

"You mean, " answered the person addressed, who was a man of about thesame number of years, "Allen who married old Peter's daughter, andafterwards run away. Yes; it didn't go with him as slick with her ason the ice. "

"Well, she didn't break her heart about it. She got married agin assoon as the law allowed. I was in court when Judge Trumbull grantedthe divorce. 'Twas for three years willful desartion and total neglectof duty. "

"No, I guess she didn't. She was published the very next Lord's Day, and got married in the evening. She was a mighty pretty cretur. Well, I never see such a skater as Sam. This fellow is nothing at all tohim. He don't kind o' turn his letters so nice. Now, there's thatv, you might mistake it for a w. I like to see a man parfect in hisbusiness. "

"I've hearn tell, " said the Captain, "though I never see it myself, that Sam could write Jarman text as well as Roman. "

"I never see it, " said the Fox-skin cap, "but guess it's so. Therewasn't nothing Sam couldn't do on skates. "

"Do you recollect whether he used smooth irons or hollow?" inquiredthe Captain. 

"Oh, smooth; they ain't so easy for beginners, but when a fellow gitsthe knack of 'em they're a great deal better. "

Very different from the remarks of these _laudatores temporis acti_, were those of the rising generation. 

"How beautiful!" exclaimed Anne. "What wonderful skill! Can anythingbe more graceful?"

"It is, indeed, graceful, " said Faith; "and it must requireconsiderable boldness as well as skill to venture on some of thoseevolutions. The least mistake would cause a violent fall. "

"Dear Faith, why did you mention it?" said Anne. "I was not thinkingof the possibility of falls. "

"Have no fear, " said Pownal; "he is too completely master of thescience to hurt himself. "

"In Holland the ladies are said to skate as well as the gentlemen, "said Bernard. 

"That is a poor compliment, William, " said Anne. "If I cannot skatebetter without practice, than half of this awkward squad, I will neverbind skates on my feet a second time. "

"I know of nothing you cannot do, " said her brother. 

"Come here, Andrew, " cried Pownal, to a boy standing opposite in thecircle, and holding a pair of skates in his hand. "Come here and lendme your skates. Here, Miss Bernard, " said he, presenting them to her, "here is a fine pair. Allow me to buckle them on. And then like awinged Mercury to fly. "

"Please to compare me to no heathen gods, Mr. Pownal, or you may makethese old Puritans burn me for a witch. Let me see if they fit. No, they are too large, I could never do myself justice on them. Here, mylittle fellow is a ninepence for you; away with you. "

The boy took the little piece of silver with a grin, tied the rejectedskates upon his feet, and was soon lost among his companions. 

"I say, " said an urchin, who was looking on with admiring eyes, "Isay, Bill, that beats all natur. Did you ever see such shindys?"

"They ain't so bad, " returned Bill; "but I guess I can do some of 'emmyself. "

"Which ones?" inquired the other. 

"Why, " answered Bill, "when he throws himself right about face, andthen goes sculling backwards. "

"I'll bet you can't do it the first time. "

"What will you bet?" cried Bill. 

"I don't care; say a stick o' candy. "

"Agreed!" cried Bill. "You see I've done it afore. "

"You ought to told us that, " said his companion. 

"A bet's a bet, " said Bill. "You don't want to back out, do ye?"

"Go ahead, " cried the other, with some spirit. "I'll risk it. Let'ssee what you can do. "

Thus exhorted and defied, Bill commenced preparations. He firststooped down on one knee and then on the other, and tightened thestraps of the skates; next he took a handkerchief from his pocket, andfastened it tightly around his waist, and lastly, moved slowly aboutas if to determine whether all things were as they should be. 

The spectators who had overheard the conversation between the boys, and were ready for any kind of fun, now began to express interest inthe trial, and various were the words of encouragement addressed toBill, as well as the mutterings of doubt over the result. The skaterwho, until now, had attracted the most attention, ceased hisdiagrams and approached Bill, in order to give him instructions, notwithstanding the remonstrances of his companion, who loudlyvociferated it wasn't fair. 

"Hold your yaup, " cried another boy, standing by; "if you don't likeyour bet, Hen Billings, I'll take it off your hands. "

But little Billings seemed to think he had made a good bet, andalthough loth to concede to Bill any advantage that did not of strictright belong to him, was far from being disposed to relinquish it. "Goyour length, Bill, " he said, "I ain't afeard of the expense. "

The space being now cleared, Bill began to circle round preparatory tothe trial. It was evident he was not very skillful, and the opinion ofthe bystanders, who amused themselves with criticising his preliminaryperformances, was about equally divided respecting his ability toperform the undertaking. After a few turns Bill cried out:

"Now, Hen, look out. " With that he darted forward, until he supposedhe had attained the required momentum, when suddenly making a twistingmotion with his feet, he threw himself round. But unfortunately he hadmade some miscalculation or slip, for instead of alighting square uponthe skates, his heels flew up, and with a tremendous thump, down camepoor Bill upon his back. 

"Hurrah!" cried Hen Billings; "there you go, candy and all. I hope youain't hurt you, " he said, good naturedly. "I'd rather lose my bet thanhave you hurt. "

"No, " whined Bill, squirming round his body, and rubbing the back ofhis head, "not much. What are you grinning at, you monkey? Did younever see a man fall before?" cried he, shaking his fist at anotherboy, whose face it seems did not wear an expression of condolence tosuit him. "I vow if I don't try that again, " he added, after havingrecovered a little from the effects of his fall. 

Thereupon space being again allowed, Bill, with genuine pluck, triedthe experiment once more, and this time with better fortune. His success was greeted with shouts of congratulation, and withexpressions of "true grit, " "stuffy little fellow, " &c. , andhe presently disappeared with his friend, Hen, in search of thecandy-merchant. 

Faith and Anne, with the two young men, had witnessed the whole scenewith some interest, and the different manner in which the girls wereaffected was characteristic. Faith betrayed a lively sensibility whenthe boy fell, and was hardly restrained from condoling with him; whileAnne took but little notice of it, but exhibited exquisite delight athis courage and final success. But something else now attracted theirattention. A shout was raised, and exclamations were heard of "Therecomes the ice-boat; there comes Grant's ice-boat. "

Turning round, they beheld what had the appearance of a boat undersail, flying round the promontory of Okommakemisit. A slight breezewas drawing up the stream, and before its favoring breath, the littlevessel, or whatever else it might be called, advanced with greatrapidity. In a few moments it had reached them, and with a sharpgrating sound as of iron cutting into ice, came suddenly to a stop, and the persons gathering round had an opportunity to examine it. Itwas the work of a village genius, and consisted of some boards, cutin an elliptical form (as, perhaps, the most convenient), supported bytwo pieces of iron, parallel to each other, to which the boards werefastened, and running the whole length from bow to stern. In theforward part was rigged a mast, to which was attached a sail, like themainsail of a sloop, and the whole was controlled by a piece of sharpiron, fixed on the stern in such a manner as to turn like a rudder, and to cut with any required degree of pressure, by means of a lever, into the ice. With this simple regulator it was made perfectly safe, being stopped as readily, and on the same principle, as a skaterarrests his course. 

Grant, to whom Pownal and Bernard were both known, invited the littleparty to take a sail with him, assuring them there was no danger. Theinvitation was at once accepted by Miss Bernard, though the more timidFaith hesitated, and the four took their seats. The group of persons, as before observed, were at the head of the Severn, and the wind wasdrawing up the river, it was, therefore, necessary, to beat againstthe wind at starting. To the surprise, in particular of the ladies, this was done with the most perfect ease, the vessel, on her sharprunners, making but little lee-way, and obeying her helm more readilythan any boat in water. Indeed, obedience was instantaneous. Shewhirled round as quickly as one could turn one's hand, requiringpromptness and presence of mind in the steersman. Thus, like abird, with smooth and equable motion, she flew with her delightedpassengers, in many a zig-zag, down the Severn, until they had goneas far as desired, when round she spun, and before the breeze, houses, and men, and trees, gliding by as in a race, dashed up to the startingpoint. 

Upon leaving the ice-boat, the eyes of Pownal discovered the tall formof Holden, in the midst of a group of persons whom he appeared to beaddressing; and upon his mentioning the circumstance to the others, it was proposed to join him. Accordingly, they added themselves to hisaudience. Several large baskets were lying near him on the ice, and soengaged was he in his subject that he took no notice of the approachof his four young friends. The address was not without a burst or twoof eloquence, springing out of the intense conviction of the speaker, and was listened to respectfully enough. Not that a convert was made;not that there was a person present who did not regard his notionsas the hallucinations of a disturbed intellect, but a part of thebystanders esteemed and respected him as a man of noble and generousdisposition, lavish of his small means towards those whom heconsidered poorer than himself, and never faltering in any act ofkindness on account of hardship or privation; while the rest, asalready intimated, felt a sort of awe in his presence from the mysterythat surrounded him. Among the spectators was our old friend, TomGladding, leisurely engaged in whittling out a chain from a pineblock, some twelve inches in length, from which he had succeeded inobtaining three or four links that dangled at its end, and listeningwith a comical expression, as if he were anticipating some fun. 

The Enthusiast had hardly concluded his exhortation before Basset, whostood on the outside of the ring during its delivery, stepped forward, and placing his hand on Holden's shoulder, informed him he was hisprisoner. Holden made no resistance, but drawing himself up to hisfull height, and fastening his eyes sternly on the constable, hedemanded:

"What art thou?"

"My name is Barnabas Basset, " answered the constable, a littleembarrassed. 

"I care not for thy name, " said Holden, "but by what authority darestthou to lay thy hand on a free man?"

"By authority of the State of Connecticut, " replied the constable, recovering from his momentary confusion, and feeling quite safe inthe crowd. "It's true, I hain't got my staff, but everybody's bound, according to law, to know the constable. "

"And, therefore, is an innocent man to be treated as a malefactor?"

"I don't know about the innocence, " said Basset, "and it's none of mybusiness. You must talk to the justice about that. All I've got to dois to execute my warrant according to law. "

"It is written, resist not evil, " said Holden, musingly. "Behold, I amin thy hands; do with me what thou willest. "

But some of the spectators appeared indisposed to be so passive. Pownal and Bernard walked up to the constable, and demanded to knowthe meaning of the outrage. 

"You may just call it what you please, Mr. Pownal, " answered Basset, indignant at being interfered with, as he called it, in the dischargeof his duty, "and I advise you not to git your fingers catched in thelaw; but if you must know, the justice, I guess, will tell you. "

"Keep your advice until it is asked for, " said Pownal; "but beforewhat justice are you taking him?"

"If you come with us, you'll find out, " answered Basset, whose illnature seemed to increase. 

"That I certainly will. I must leave you, " said Pownal, turning to theladies, "to see that this brutal fellow behaves himself. "

"Do, " cried Faith; "do not let them insult him. "

"Let us go with him, " said the impulsive Anne. 

"You would make a fine appearance in a justice court, " said herbrother "No, I will see you home, and afterwards join Pownal. "

But an occurrence now happened which made any such arrangementunnecessary. Tom Gladding, who all this while had been quietlywhittling out his chain and listening to the conversation, hereinterposed:

"Basset, " he said, "you hain't showed your warrant. "

"It's all safe enough, " cried the constable, striking his hand on hispocket. 

"Well, if that's the case you're safe enough, too, " said Tom, as ifnot disposed to press an inquiry. 

But the hint had answered its purpose, and several voices demanded theexhibition of the warrant, to which the constable replied, that it wasnone of their business; he knew what he was about. 

Contrary, however, to what might have been expected from his formersubmission, the prisoner required to see the written authority bywhich he was to be consigned to bonds, and refused to move untilit had been shown, in which determination he was sustained bythe bystanders. Thus unexpectedly resisted, the constable had noalternative but to release Holden or produce the instrument. He, therefore, put his hand into his pocket, and pulling out a number ofpapers, sought for the document. It was in vain; no warrant was to befound; and, after repeatedly shuffling the papers, he exclaimed: "Ideclare I must have lost it. "

Whether he discovered the loss then for the first time, or what is farmore probable, did not anticipate its demand from one so flighty asHolden, and meant to procure one afterwards, is not certainly known, but the fact is certain, he had no written authority to arrest. 

"You never had one. Is this the way you treat a free American? Youdesarve a ducking; you had better make tracks, " exclaimed severalindignant voices from the crowd, with whom a constable cannot be apopular character. 

"It's my opinion, " said the man in the fox skin cap, "Basset has madehimself liable for assault and battery. What do you think, Captain?"

"I ain't clear on that point, " returned his cautious companion, "butfree trade and sailors' rights, I say, and I've no notion of a man'sbeing took without law. I'm clear so far. "

The discomfited constable not venturing to proceed, and, indeed, unable to conceive how, without Holden's assent, he could take himbefore the justice, now relinquished his prey, and endeavored to makehis way out of the circle. Hereupon an agitation arose, none couldsay how, the persons composing it began to be swayed backwards andforwards in a strange manner, and somehow or other poor Basset's heelsgot tripped up, and before he could rise, several men and boys fellover him and crushed him with their weight, so that when he becamevisible in the heap, he presented a most pitiable appearance. His coatwas torn, his neckerchief twisted so tight about his neck, that hewas half choked, and his hat jammed out of all shape. It is doubtfulwhether he would have escaped so cheaply, had it not been forGladding, who, after he thought Basset had suffered sufficiently, cameto his assistance. 

"I always stand by the law, " said Tom, helping him to his feet, "butI admire your imprudence, Basset, in trying to take up a man without awarrant. "

Basset's faculties were too confused to enter into a discussion ofthe subject then, and with many threats of taking the law against histormentors, and, attended by Tom, he limped off the ice. 

Loud and boisterous were the congratulations with which the crowd hadgreeted Holden on his escape from the clutches of the constable, buthe waved them off with a dignity which repressed their advances, andgave some offence. 

"If I'd known the old fellow was so proud, " said one, "I guess Bassetmight have taken him for all I cared. "

"I sort o' sprained my wrist in that last jam agin the constable, "said another, laughing, "and it's een about as good as thrown away. "

"Perhaps, " cried a third, "when he's took agin, I'll be there to help, and perhaps I won't. "

While these various speeches were being made, the young men withthe ladies, had gathered around Holden, and were expressing theirmortification at the annoyance he had experienced, and their pleasureat his escape. 

"Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?" criedthe enthusiast. "Surely their devices shall be brought to naught, and their counsels to no effect. He that sitteth on the circle of theheavens shall laugh them to scorn, and spurn them in His displeasure. Because for Thy sake, I have borne reproach; shame hath covered myface. I am become a stranger unto my brethren, and an alien unto mymother's children. "

He waited for no remark; he looked at no one; but taking up the pileof baskets which were tied together, threw them upon his back, andstalked over the ice in the direction of his cabin. 

On their way home the young people discussed the events of theafternoon, dwelling on the meeting with Holden as on that which mostoccupied their minds. 

"It is with a painful interest, " said Pownal, "that I meet the oldman, nor can I think of him without a feeling of more than commonregard. I am sure it is not merely because he was lately of so greatservice to me, that I cannot listen to the tones of his voice withoutemotion. There is in them a wild melancholy, like the sighing of thewind through pine trees, that affects me more than I can describe. "

"I know the feeling, " said Faith. "There is to me also a strangepathos in his voice that brings the tears sometimes into my eyesbefore I am aware. What is the cause, I do not know. I never heardit spoken of till now, and did not suppose there was another affectedlike myself. "

"You are a couple of romantic, silly things, " cried Anne. "I flattermyself there is some poetry in me, but it takes a different shape. Now, when I see Father Holden, I begin to think of Jeremiah andZachariah, and all the old prophets, but with no disposition to cry. "

"Tears were never meant to dim those blue eyes, dear Anne, " saidFaith. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

 _Dogberry_. --You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore, bear you the lantern. This is your charge; you shall comprehend all vagrom men. 

 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 

It may well be supposed that the misadventures on the ice were illcalculated to soothe the excited mind of the constable. He bore agrudge towards the Solitary before, for his failure and the beatinghe had received at the island, and now to be made the object of suchabuse in the presence of his townsmen, and that on account of a personwhom he looked down upon as a sort of vagrant, was more than hisphilosophy could bear. For Basset, with that kind of logic which is socommon with a certain class of people, could not avoid regarding theRecluse as the culpable cause of his misfortune in both instances. "Ifhe hadn't gone agin the law, " he said to himself, "I shouldn't havetried to take him; and if I hadn't tried to take him, I shouldn't havebeen treated so. " Whatever Hedge or Mills may think of such logic, itwas satisfactory to Basset. 

His lucubrations, moreover, were very different in the daytime fromthose in the solemn shades of night. As ghosts are said to disappearwhen they scent the morning air, so the constable's apprehensions ofthem fled at the rising of the sun. When in the dark at the island hereceived the blow that prostrated him on the earth, he was unableto determine in his confusion, whether it had been inflicted by thefisherman's ghost or by Holden. It never crossed his mind that itmight have come from any one else. On this subject he had mused duringthe whole time of his return from his nocturnal disaster, withoutbeing able to arrive at any conclusion. If in those witching hours, when the stars gleamed mysteriously through the drifting clouds, and the wind moaned among the bare branches, he was inclined to oneopinion rather than to another, it was to that which would attributethe blow to the ghost. But with the light of returning day the currentof his thoughts changed. Things assumed an altered aspect. Fearsof inhabitants of an unseen world vanished, and Basset was angry athimself for entertaining such silly imaginations. It was now evidentthat Holden by some means had obtained a knowledge of the design tocapture him, or had suspected it, or had noticed the approach of theboat and laid in wait to take a most unjustifiable revenge. "I wishI could prove it, " thought Basset; "if I wouldn't make him smart forstriking an officer!"

We shall not be surprised to find that the constable feeling thus, provided himself with another warrant. Smarting under a sense ofinjury, both as a man and a baffled administrator of the law, he hadimmediately sought the Justice, revealed the loss of the instrument, and procured another. Upon returning to the river, where he hoped totriumph in the presence of those who had witnessed his disgrace, over one whom he now regarded as an enemy, he found to his infinitemortification that the bird had flown. He dared not follow alone, andmeditating vengeance, he kept the fatal document safely depositedin his pocket-book, where "in grim repose" it waited for a favorableopportunity and its prey. 

On the following Monday morning, the constable met Gladding in thestreet, whom he had not seen since the latter assisted him on the ice. 

"How are you?" cried Tom, seizing him by the hand, and affecting thegreatest pleasure at the meeting; "how do you feel after your row, friend Basset?"

"Oh, pretty well, " answered the constable; "how is it with you?

"Alive and kicking, " said Tom. "But, Basset, you hain't got the dentsout o' your hat, I see. "

"No, and I don't expect they ever will come out. It's good as twodollars damage to me, " he added, taking off the hat and looking at itwith a woeful face. "You're a little to blame for it, too, Tom. "

"Me! You ongrateful critter, " exclaimed Gladding, indignantly. "Youwant me to give you a new hat, don't ye?"

"What made you ask if I'd got the warrant?"

"I never said no such a thing. I only said sort o' promiscuously, youhadn't showed your document. "

"Well, what was the use o' that? If you'd kept still there wouldn'tbeen no fuss. "

"Who'd ha' thought you'd ha' gone to take a man without being ableto show your authority? Now I call that plaguy green, Basset. But whostood by you when everybody else desarted you, and got you out fromunder them rough boys, and helped you clean out o' the scrape? Darn itall, Basset, you're the ongratefullest varmint I ever did see, when, in a manner, I saved your life. Really, I did think, instead o'blowing a fellow up in this way, you'd a stood treat. "

"So I will, " said Basset, who began to fancy he had found too muchfault, and was unwilling to lose his ally; "so come along intoJenkins', and we'll take it on the spot. But you must give in, Tom, your observation was unfortunate"

"Unfortunate for you, " returned Tom; "but I guess Holden thought'twasn't unfortunate for him. Howsomever, you'll let the old fellowslip now, won't you?"

"Let him slip!" almost screamed the exasperated Basset, whom Tom'smanner of treating the subject was not calculated to mollify. "Lethim slip, you say. I'll see him, I'll see him"--but in vain he soughtwords to express the direful purpose; language broke down under theeffort. 

"Poh, poh, " said Tom, "don't take on so, man--forget andforgive--luck's been on his side, that's all. "

"I tell you what, " said Basset, "who do you think struck me the othernight?"

"Why, what could it be but Lanfear's ghost?"

"Don't talk to me about sperits; whose afraid o' them? But tell us onething, did you see Holden when you looked into the window!"

"What makes you ask?" said the cautious Tom, "supposing I did, orsupposing I didn't?"

"'Cause I know you didn't. Now it's my opinion, " said Basset, loweringhis voice and looking round suspiciously as if he were afraid of anaction for slander should he be overheard, "that Holden himself madethe assault. "

"That ain't possible, " said Gladding, confidently. "You and Primestood by the door and would ha' seen him if he'd come out there, and Iknow he didn't jump out o' the window, for I should ha' seen him. "

"But, perhaps he wasn't in the house at all, " persisted Basset;"it was plaguy dark, and perhaps he heard us coming and hid himselfoutside on purpose to play the trick and take an unfair advantage onus. "

"You'll never make me believe that story, " said Gladding, shaking hishead. "I'd as soon believe it was me as the old man. Prime and me areof the same opinion, and we should both be witnesses agin you. "

The two, at this stage of the conversation, reached the door ofthe grocer's shop, into which we will not follow them, but turn ourattention elsewhere. 

Meanwhile, the cause of all this excitement was quietly pursuingthe ordinary tenor of his life. It will have been observed that whenBasset attempted to arrest him, Holden did not even inquire with whatoffence he was charged, unless demanding the production of the warrantmay be considered so, and that upon the constable relinquishinghis purpose, he turned away without giving any attention to theobservations addressed to him. It is not probable that his designwas to avoid the service of process, all unconscious as he was of anyviolation of the laws of the State; and certain it is he made notthe slightest difference in his habits. As before, he pursued hisoccupation of basket-making at his hut and his recreations offishing and strolling through the woods, as though no such formidablecharacter as Basset was in existence. If he did not appear in thevillage it was an accidental circumstance, it being only at irregularintervals that he ever made his appearance there. Thus, then, passeda week longer; the petulant constable on the watch, and the steadymalignity of Davenport gradually becoming impatient for gratification. But the little drama had a course of its own to run. 

One morning Primus saw the tall figure of Holden passing his cabin. The veteran was at the window smoking his pipe when the Recluse firstcame in sight. A secret must have been very closely kept, indeed, inthe village, not to come to his ears, and the warlike equipment andintentions of Basset were well known to him. "Dere he come, " said thenegro to himself, "jist like a fly flying into de spider-web. I guessI gib him warning. " With this benevolent intention, Primus went to thedoor, and as Holden approached, addressed him with the salutationof the morning. It was courteously acknowledged, and the Generalcommenced as if he wished to engage in a conversation. 

"Beautiful wedder dis marning, Missa Holden. "

"Old man, thy days are too short to be wasted in chattering about theweather, " said Holden. "Speak, if thou hast aught to say. "

The General's attempt at familiarity was effectually checked, and hefelt somewhat chagrined at the reply; but for all that he would notgive up his friendly purpose. 

"Dey say, " he said, with military precision, "dat de Constable Bassethab a warrant agin Missa Holden. "

"Thanks, Primus, " said Holden, resuming his walk, "but I fear the faceof no man. "

"De obstinate pusson!" exclaimed the negro. "And den to talk about myshort day! Dat is bery onpleasaut. Short day, Missa Holden, eh? Not asyou knows on. I can tell you dis child born somewhere about de twentyob June (at any rate de wedder was warm), and mean to lib accordingly. Oh, you git out, Missa Holden! Poor parwarse pusson! What a pity hehab no suspect for de voice ob de charmer! I always hear, " he added, chuckling, in that curious, mirth-inspiring way so peculiar to theblacks, "dat de black snake know how to charm best, but all sign failin dry wedder, and de pan flash in de powder dis time. "

Holden paid not the least regard to the information. According to hissystem of fatalism he would have considered it beyond his power toalter the predetermined course of things, but it is not probable thathis mind dwelt upon the thought of personal security. He went straightforward to the village, calling at places where he thought he wouldmost likely find customers for his wares, and in no respect avoidingpublic observation. He had sold his baskets, and was on his return tothe river, over whose frozen surface lay his road home, when he behelda scene that solicited his attention and arrested his steps. 

It was an Indian burial. Holden in his round had strolled as faras the piece of table land, of which mention was made in the firstchapter, to a distance of nearly a mile from the head of the Severn, and was at the moment opposite a spot reserved by the tribe, of whicha small number were lingering in the neighborhood, as the reveredresting-place of the bones of their ancestors, whence they themselveshoped to start for the happy hunting grounds. It was a place ofsingular beauty, selected apparently with a delicate appreciation ofthe loveliness of the scenery, for nowhere else in the vicinity wasthere so attractive a combination of hill and dale, and wood andwater, to compose a landscape. 

The little burying-ground, shorn of its original dimensions bythe encroachments of the fatal race that came from the rising sun, contained less than half an acre, and was situated at the top of aravine, running down from the level land, on which the gravestoneswere erected, to the Yaupáae, where that river expands itself intoa lake. The sides of the ravine, along its whole sweep upwards, wascovered quite to the top with immense oaks and chestnuts, the growthof centuries, interspersed with ash trees, while in the colder andmoister part in the centre, the smooth-barked birch threw out itsgnarled branches. There was no undergrowth, and under and between thelimbs of the trees, the eye caught a view towards the south of thewidened Yaupáae and of the islands that dotted its surface, with hillssweeping round in a curve, and presenting an irregular outline likethat made by the backs of a school of porpoises. Towards the threeother quarters of the compass, a level plain extended for a shortdistance, and then was broken up into an undulating surface which roseinto eminences covered with woods that hemmed in the whole. The fallsof the Yaupáae were at a distance of only a few rods, but invisible, being hidden by the plain that occupied the intervening space, at anelevation of some forty feet higher than the point where the river, rushing down its rocky bed, made its presence known by a ceaselessroar, and seemed to chant a dirge over the vanished greatness of thetribe. 

Here were assembled some sixty or seventy Indians to perform therights of sepulture to one of their number. No vestige of theiroriginal wildness was to be traced among them. They were clothed inthe garments of civilization, but of a coarse and mean quality, andappeared broken down and dispirited. One half, at least, were women, and at the moment of which we are speaking they were collectingtogether from among the blue slate gravestones, where they had beendispersed, around a newly dug grave. The rites were of a Christiancharacter, and performed by an elder of one of the neighboringchurches, who offered up a prayer, on the conclusion of which heretired. The grave was immediately filled, and then commenced aceremony of a singular character. 

At a given signal the assembled company began with slow and measuredsteps, and in silence, to encircle the grave. It must have been acustom peculiar to the tribe, at least we do not recollect seeingit alluded to by any traveller or describer of Indian manners, andconsisted in walking one after the other around the grave, in themanner called Indian file, and recounting the good qualities of thedeparted; nor was it considered permissible to leave until somethinghad been said in his praise. The Indians walked round and round inunbroken silence, each one modestly waiting, as it seemed at first, for another to speak. But no one begun, and it soon became evidentthat some other cause than modesty restrained their speech. Thus, with downcast eyes, or casting side long glances at each other, as inexpectation of the wished-for eulogy, and with the deepest gravity, they followed round and round, but still with sealed lips. The defunctmust have been a strange being to deserve no commendation. Couldit be? Did he possess no one good quality by which he could beremembered? Had he never done a kind act? Could he not hunt, or fish, or make baskets, or plant corn, or beans, or potatoes? Surely he musthave been able to do something. Had it never happened that he did somegood by mistake? Perhaps that would answer the purpose. Or had hebeen the mere shape and appearance of a man, and nothing more? Hehad vanished like a shadow; was he as unsubstantial? Were they notmistaken in supposing he had lived among them! Had he been a dream?

Confused thoughts like these passed through the simple minds of therude race, as with tired steps they followed one another in that wearyround. But was there to be no cessation of those perpetual gyrations?Yet no gesture, no devious step betrayed impatience. On they went, asif destined to move thus for ever. Looks long and earnest began now tobe cast upon the new-made hillock, as if striving to draw inspirationthence, or reproaching its tenant with his unworthiness. Noinspiration came, and gradually the steps became slower and morelanguid, yet still the measured tread went on. A darker and darkercloud settled on their weary faces, but they could not stop; the dutywas too sacred to remain unfulfilled. They could not leave without aword to cheer their friend upon his way, and yet the word came not. When would some one speak? Who would relieve them from the difficulty?At length the countenance of an old squaw lighted up, and in lowtones she said, "He was a bery good smoker. " The welcome words wereinstantly caught up by all, and with renewed strength each one movedon, and rejoicing at the solution of the dilemma, exclaimed, "He wasa bery good smoker. " The charm had taken effect; the word ofaffectionate remembrance was spoken; the duty performed; and each withan approving conscience could now return home. 

What thin partitions divide the mirthful from the mournful, thesublime from the ridiculous! At the wedding we weep, and at thefuneral we can smile. 

Holden who had been standing with folded arms leaning against the railfence that enclosed the yard, and contemplating the ceremonies tillthe last Indian departed, now turned to leave, when the constable witha paper in one hand approached, and touching Holden with the other, told him he was his prisoner. The Solitary asked no questions, butwaving his hand to the constable to advance, followed him in silence. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

 "If it please your honor, I am the poor duke's constable, and my name is Elbow. I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good honor two notorious benefactors. "

 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 

The efforts of the Solitary's friends to ward off the blow wereunavailing, and the perseverance of the constable was crowned withsuccess. Of course it was impossible for Holden to walk throughthe streets of Hillsdale with such a companion without attractingobservation. Long before he reached the office, where he was to havehis trial, a crowd of idle boys was gathered at his heels, attendingin a sort of triumphal procession, and wondering what was to be donewith the prisoner. Basset had need of all his natural dignity, andmore than he could assume besides, to keep the little mob intolerable order. It is true the conduct of Holden, who, to thegreat astonishment of the constable, followed him like a lamb to theslaughter, made the task less difficult. 

The place to which he was taken was no other than the office ofKetchum, it not being usual for justices to have offices of their own, the amount of business not warranting such an expense. On occasionslike the present it was customary for the lawyer who took charge ofthe case to supply the court-room, and this, of course, was hisown office, as the most convenient place where law books and othernecessary instruments were at hand. Here, then, Holden was left by theconstable with Ketchum, the officer of the law meanwhile proceedingto hunt up Squire Miller. During his absence, Ketchum addressed someremarks to the prisoner, and endeavored to engage him in conversation, but without success, Holden receiving his advances with coldness, and evidently averse to establish the relation of even speakingacquaintanceship. Ketchum finding all efforts vain, at last desisted, and Holden sat in silence, brooding over his own thoughts. 

Upon Basset's return, he was accompanied not only by the justice, butalso by Pownal, who had accidentally heard of the arrest, and by twoor three other persons attracted by curiosity. Pownal immediatelywalked up to his friend, and, grasping his hand, expressed hisinterest, and tendered his services. 

"I know not, " said Holden, in reply to his expressions of sympathy, "why I am to be made a gazing-stock for curious eyes; but the Lord'swill be done. "

Pownal requested to see the warrant, and for the first time learnedthe nature of the accusation; he then sent a messenger after Mr. Tippit, and that gentleman, in compliance with the summons, soon madehis appearance. Him Pownal engaged to defend the prisoner. By thistime the little office was filled with an inquisitive crowd, eager tohear the eloquence of the counsel, and to watch the vibrations of thescales of justice, among whom Judge Bernard might be seen seatedby the side of the prisoner. Any person entered and departed as hepleased, the room being, for the time of the trial, converted into apublic place; and while preparations were being made preliminary tothe opening of the court, the spectators amused themselves with makingobservations to each other. 

"What have they took Holden up for?" said a man to Mr. Davenport, who, of course, was present. 

"I hear it is for profane speaking and reviling, " answered Davenport. 

"If everybody was to have his desarts, " said our friend, Tom Gladding, squirting a stream of tobacco juice over the floor, "I guess, someothers would be worse off, " and he looked sharply at Davenport. 

"It is time such things should be punished, " said Davenport. "Peoplebegin to act as if there was no law in the country. "

"Don't you be quite so hard on a fellow, " said Tom. "I recollectthe time before you were convarted, squire, when you swore like atrooper. "

The face of Davenport faded into a dusky grey with anger, and helooked as if he would have liked to annihilate the audacious Tom, but, by a violent effort, controlling his passion, he said:

"I trust the Lord has forgiven me the sin. "

"I hope he has, " said Tom, "and seems to me it would be a good thingfor Squire Miller to follow his example. "

"Suppose you tell him so, " said Davenport, sarcastically. 

"Well, seeing as how you're so pressing, " said Gladding "I don't careif I do. Squire, " he cried, addressing the Justice, and drawing theattention of all to himself, "here's Squire Davenport says, he expectsthe Lord's forgive his cussing and swearing, and thinks you'd betterdo as well by Father Holden, and let him run. "

A general shout of laughter greeted this speech of Gladding's, andthere were exclamations of "Well said, Tom, " and "He had him, there, "and "Who would have thought that of Davenport?"

The unfortunate victim glared, with fury in his eyes, at Tom, who, interpreting his looks to suit himself, cried--

"He's coming, Squire, to speak for himself. "

Davenport here protested, he had said no such thing, and that it was ashame he should be abused by a scurrilous fellow, in such a manner. 

"What's that you say?" said Gladding, stepping up to Davenport; "I'mno more squirrilous, than you are yourself; though, for that matter, there ain't a squirrel on a walnut tree, but would be ashamed to beseen in your company, --squirrilous fellow, eh!"

"Silence!" cried the Justice. "Mister Gladding, I must say, I thinksuch language very improper; and I hope, if you expect to remain here, you will stop it. "

"Squire, " said Gladding, "he begun it; I'll leave it to the company, if he didn't first call me a squirrel. "

"Silence!" reiterated the Justice; "we must have order; and, if youdon't choose to observe order, you must leave the room. "

"You hain't opened court yet, " persisted the pertinacious Tom. "Iguess we know our rights. "

Here Basset came up to Tom, and, taking him by the arm, whispered afew words into his ear. They seemed to be of a sedative character, for the latter, contenting himself with an occasional glance ofmischievous fun at his late opponent, abstained from further remark. 

By this time, the subpoena for the witnesses had been returned, andthe persons summoned made their appearance. The overt act was sonotorious, that it had not been considered necessary to summon many, and the few needed were soon hunted up. Hereupon, Mr. Ketchum havingintimated a readiness, on the part of the State, to proceed, Mr. Tippit, after some conversation with Judge Bernard and Pownal, Holdenrefusing to hold any intercourse with him also, entered the plea of"not guilty, " for his client. 

The hour of noon had now arrived, and that being the dinner-time ofmost present, Justice Miller yielded to the request of Mr. Tippet, andthe pleadings of his own stomach, to adjourn the sitting of the courttill two o'clock in the afternoon, in order, not only to gratifythe demands of appetite, but, also, that the counsel might have anopportunity to confer with his client and prepare his defence. Ketchumremonstrated against the delay as unreasonable, but the Justice, who felt no disposition to hurry himself, and was, at bottom, not anunamiable man, told him, there would be time enough to finish the casein the afternoon, provided he and Mr. Tippit did not talk too long. Meanwhile, upon the promise of Judge Bernard to be responsible forthe safety of the prisoner, Holden was allowed to depart with him, and Pownal, who had been invited to dinner with the Judge, accompaniedthem to his house. 

Here they found Faith, in a state of high excitement. "I, "--she said, seizing the old man's hands, while the tears streamed down her cheeks;"I am to blame for this persecution. O, Father Holden, if I had notbegged, and almost forced you to go with us that evening, this wouldnot have happened. "

"Dear child!" said Holden, "afflict not thyself. Thou and I are butas flying dust on the eternal wheels of destiny. Fear not, nor letthy heart be troubled. Even yet, the Lord will make bare his arm and Ishall escape, even as a bird from the snare of the fowler. "

But Faith partook not of the enthusiast's confidence. To her alarmedimagination, the deliverance of Holden seemed as improbable as thatof Daniel from the den of lions, and the impending doom almostas dreadful as that destined for the prophet. She knew what theconsequences would be were Holden found guilty; for, soon after thereading of the warrant by Pownal, its contents had been communicatedto her, and she had been informed respecting the punishment. Toher delicate and sensitive mind, the charge itself--that of profanespeaking and reviling, was inexpressibly revolting. She knew that thecondition of mind such language implies, was entirely wanting, andthat it was in the performance of what he considered a duty, the oldman had spoken. Father Holden capable of profane speaking! He, whoseheart was the seat of all noble emotions; he, who had renounced theworld, and trampled its temptations and vanities under foot; he, who living in the world, was not of the world! That such an one, soharmless, so guileless, so innocent, should be paraded through thestreets like a wild beast which it was unsafe to have at large, thathe should be exposed to the prying looks of coarse and unfeeling men, and compelled to hear their vile ribaldry, and, finally, compelledto an ignominious punishment, among the vicious, in a workhouse!The disgrace was more than she could bear. It seemed her heart wouldbreak. Overcome by her emotions, she left the room, followed by Anne, who partook of her grief and indignation. 

All participated in the feelings of the young ladies, and, as mightbe supposed, the young men most. To Pownal, a wish of Anne's was acommand; nor was there a danger, scarcely, he would have refused toencounter to gratify her. He had never, indeed, breathed a word oflove, but he had flattered himself of late that she understood hisfeelings, and that the knowledge gave her no displeasure; and, inspite of the disparity in their conditions, hope nestled at thebottom of his heart. Besides, Faith was with him a favorite, and itdistressed him to witness her excitement. 

Nor could William Bernard behold unmoved the tears of Faith, or theagitation of his sister. Never, indeed, before had the divine eyes ofFaith Armstrong so affected him as now, when suffused with tears; norhad her beauty ever shone so resplendent. Upon the withdrawal of thegirls, he put his arm into that of Pownal, and drawing him into arecess, the young men took counsel together respecting what should bedone. 

At the appointed hour, all parties were again present in the littleoffice of the lawyer, and the examination commenced. It is unnecessaryto recapitulate in full the testimony. In spite of the ingenuityof Mr. Tippit, who closely cross-examined the witnesses for theprosecution, and thereby only made them rather strengthen than weakenthe force of their testimony, the facts were fully proved. Indeed, thewhole occurrence was too recent and public to make the proof a taskof any difficulty. The only differences in the statements of thewitnesses were, that some thought Holden was standing at the side ofthe reading-desk, when he addressed Davenport, while others were assure he was in front, a circumstance considered by Ketchum andthe Court as of no consequence, while Tippit regarded it as of thegreatest importance, as a test of the accuracy of the memory, if notof the veracity of the witnesses; and, again, what came out in thepersevering cross-examination by Tippit, viz. : that in the opinion ofsome witnesses, Holden, instead of saying "soul-damning and abominablelies, " said "damned, abominable lies". The eyes of Ketchum fairlydanced when the efforts of his opponent succeeded in eliciting fromthe badgered and provoked witness this most _mal-à-propos_ testimonywhich his own ingenuity had been unable to draw forth, and he tookcare, in the rest of the examination, to get the same statement ifpossible from the remainder of the witnesses. In this he was partiallysuccessful, each one intending most sincerely to tell the truth, and yet artfully led on by the lawyer, often falsely coloring anddistorting the facts. On the conclusion of the testimony on the partof the State, Mr. Tippit produced witnesses to prove the words spoken, who, after all, did not alter the complexion of things, and also thegood character of the prisoner, but this latter proposal was stoutlyopposed by Ketchum, as irrelevant to the issue. 

"What have we to do, " said he, "with the character of the prisoner?His character is not at issue. That may be as good as the Court's, for instance (and I desire no higher), and yet the offence chargedmay have been committed. If brother Tippit is allowed to run into allthese side issues, we shall never be done with the examination, andtherefore I object to the testimony. "

Tippit, in reply, expressed great surprise at the conduct of hisbrother, Ketchum; "but, " said he, "I do not wonder at the anxietyof the gentleman to keep out testimony of so vast importance for myclient. Here is a discrepancy. Some witnesses state the languagesaid to have been used by my client in one way, some in another. Now, although a man of good character might use the words 'soul damning andabominable, ' which we are constantly hearing in sermons and prayers, and if they are proper there, one might suppose them proper in commondiscourse, he would be less likely to use the other phrase; though, ifhe did, I hope I shall be able to convince the court there's no greatharm in that. "

Here Ketchum's face expressed unutterable astonishment, and theJustice, as if scandalized at the proposition, interrupted thecounsel, and told him he hoped he did not mean to justify profanelanguage. 

"Far from it, please your honor, " answered Tippit, "but I say we havebeen guilty of no profanity which, at the proper time, I expect tosatisfy the court of. We offer the testimony now for two purposes:first, to assist the judgment of the court in coming to a conclusion, whether the words were spoken or not, because if we prove theprisoner's good character, it is less likely they were uttered by him;and secondly, if your honor should be of opinion that the words wereused, in mitigation of punishment, if, indeed, the court should bedisposed to take notice at all of the trifle of which the prisonerstands accused. "

Ketchum reiterated his objections, denying that the testimony wasadmissible for either purpose. He did not think, he said, that hisbrother Tippit was able to assist the judgment of the court a greatdeal; as for judgment, the article was so scarce with a certaingentleman, he advised him to keep the modicum he had for his ownuse. So far as mitigation of punishment was concerned, he thought thegreater the respectability of the offender, the greater should be thepunishment, both because his education and opportunities should havetaught him better, and by way of example to others, in like case tooffend. The doctrine of the gentleman, he added, might do well enoughwhere kings and aristocrats ground the people to powder, but he hopednever to see the day, when, in our own free country, a man might dowhat he pleased because he was respectable. 

This sentiment, notwithstanding the feelings of almost all presentwere in favor of Holden, was so decidedly patriotic, that it metthe most favorable reception, and there was a general whispering andrustling among the audience. After the sensation had subsided, JusticeMiller, with some hesitation, decided to receive the testimony for thepresent. "It is different, " he said, "from allowing evidence to go toa jury. I am both court and jury, and will think it over, and rejectit, if I think it should be. " With this decision the counsel wereobliged to acquiesce, and Tippit proceeded with his testimony. 

It was easier to prove the good character of Holden than the exactoccurrence at the meeting. Judge Bernard, Mr. Armstrong, who came intothe court in the afternoon, Pownal, and many others, testified to hisirreproachable reputation, and were certain that his conduct proceededfrom no evil intent. 

After the testimony had all been taken, followed the speeches of thecounsel. Ketchum, who, as prosecutor, was entitled to the opening andclosing arguments, rose and stated that, as the days were short, andit was growing late, he would waive his right of opening, and reservewhat he had to say to the time when his brother Tippit had concluded. To this arrangement Tippit strenuously objected, insisting that theState had made out so poor a case, that he hardly knew what to replyto, and that in all fairness the counsel for the State ought toenlighten him. The court, however, decided, that although it wasa strange thing for a lawyer to desire to be excused from making aspeech, yet it was a course he felt much obliged to Mr. Ketchumfor adopting, and hoped that he would not revenge himself for theabstinence by putting two speeches into one, at the conclusion. 

Smiles and applauding whispers among the audience rewarded the Justicefor this brilliant display of wit. 

Hereupon Mr. Tippit rose and addressed the court. He begun by hintingat the embarrassment he felt in not having the advantage, to use hisown language, of what his brother Ketchum intended to say. For his ownpart, he had carefully considered the law and evidence, and could notfind the shadow of a pretext for detaining the prisoner. He then wenton to speak of the prisoner himself, his age, his harmless life, andthe excellent character he sustained. All this, he argued, went toshow the improbability of his having uttered the language consideredmost objectionable. He contended that although he would mostcheerfully admit that the prisoner had said something in theconference-room, it was impossible to determine accurately whatthat something was; that if in this state of things the court not besatisfied what the words were exactly, it was as if no words at allhad been uttered, and there were none to be passed upon. But what werethe words? Here the learned counsel minutely examined the evidence, and arrived at the conclusion, that it was impossible to ascertainthem. Hence, he said, the _corpus delicti_ is wanting. But supposethe words were as testified by some, though they are contradicted byothers, "damned abominable, " what then? Was that reviling orprofane speaking? The words were two. Now, no one would pretend that"abominable" was profane language. "The idea is abominable, " saidTippit, "and I hope brother Ketchum won't take me up for saying that. What does the other word mean?" Hereupon the counsel referred to adictionary, to which also we refer our readers. "There you see, " saidhe, "there is no harm in it. At most, the word can in its presentapplication, be considered only as an intensitive, or the like. The fact is, may it please the court, it is but a strong form ofexpression, and means no more nor less than _very_, and I should bewilling to leave it to the good sense of those who hear me, as to ajury, to say if my construction is not correct. "

Here Tom Gladding nodded his head at Tippit. 

"Mr. Gladding, " continued Tippit, "nods his head, and I honor hisjudgment, and venture to say there is not a man here better qualifiedto speak on the subject. "

Here there was a general laugh at Tom's expense, in which the courtitself joined. Tom, appearing to regard the joke very little, andonly saying, "The squire's got it right by chance this time, I guess. "Presently, the court commanded silence, and Mr. Tippit proceeded. 

"I flatter myself, " he added, "that I have satisfied your honor thereis no profane language in the case; and that ought to be sufficientfor my purpose, even though the court should be of opinion that theprisoner was guilty of reviling; because the words of the statute arein the conjunctive, providing punishment only where profane speakingand reviling are united, being levelled, not at one alone, but atboth as one act. It should also be borne in mind, that the statute ispenal, and for that reason must be construed, strictly, in favor ofliberty. But I will now proceed to inquire whether there has been anyreviling in the sense of the statute. Who was intended to be protectedagainst injurious language? Reasonable beings only, certainly. Assuredly not the delicate feelings of horses, or cows, or pigs, andif so, much less those of an inanimate object, like a book. Now, it will be recollected that the language uttered characterized thecontents of a book, not Mr. Davenport. The words were consistent withthe supposition that the prisoner cherished the highest respect forhim, whatever his opinion might be of the sermon. It was then absurdto pursue a man criminally for criticising a book, and requestinganother not to read it, which was all that had been done. "

Here Ketchum inquired how his brother Tippit would get over the words, "man of sin, " which it was testified had been applied by the prisonerto Davenport. 

Mr. Tippit treated the inquiry with great contempt. "Does thegentleman, " he asked, in turn, "claim for Mr. Davenport a superhumandegree of piety? Would he have us understand that Mr. Davenport isnot a sinful man, and is the expression made use of by Mr. Holden morethan tantamount to that? I do not think the words worthy of notice, "he said, "nor am I disposed to waste time on them. " Mr. Tippitconcluded by saying, that if a man, in the honest expression of hisopinions about a book, was to be dealt with criminally, free speech, free action, the noble inheritance of our ancestors, were gone, andthe liberties of the country no more. Collecting himself for a lasteffort, he represented the Goddess of Liberty, like Niobe, alltears, weeping over the fate of her children, should the iniquity, contemplated by Ketchum, be consummated. 

The impression made by the lawyer's speech was favorable, as wasevident from the looks of the audience, and the approving hum thatfilled the room, and prepossessed as they were in favor of Holden, they would undoubtedly have acquitted him, but, alas! they werenot the tribunal to decide his fate. We have already dilated on theproceedings of the little court of _pied poudre_, beyond our originalintention, and for that reason shall endeavor, without designing, "with malice prepense, " to slight the eloquence of Ketchum, tocompress his remarks into as small a compass as possible. He has sincerisen to the dignity of a County Court Judge, and, therefore, needs nocelebrity, which a work so unpretending as the present, can confer. 

Mr. Ketchum then began by saying, that to be sure his experience incourts was not very great, but he had some, and, so far as it went, henever knew a case plainer than the one on trial. The gentleman (bowingto Tippit), with all his ingenuity, and he was not going to deny himhis due, which was greater than his knowledge of the law, had beenunable to affect his own mind, or, as he believed, the mind of hishonor, or of any one present. He felt, therefore, that the task beforehim, though an unpleasant one, was lightened by the inability of hisbrother Tippit to make out even a plausible defence. Peeling this, he should, if he consulted only his own inclinations, be disposed toleave the case where it was, without comment, but he supposed it wasexpected he should say something, and in the discharge of his duty, he would comply with the expectation. As for the character of theprisoner, he had nothing to say about it. He would neither admit thatit was good, nor claim that it was bad; whatever it might be, it hadnothing to do with the case. The question was, what was done at themeeting? All the witnesses agreed that the prisoner interrupted theproceedings. True, they disagreed in respect to the exact words, buttake the testimony of any, and sufficient was made out to support theprosecution. Here he dwelt upon a criticism of the words, coming toconclusions precisely the opposite of Tippit's, and contending theywere both profane and reviling. "It was preposterous, " he claimed, "tosay that Holden meant merely to criticise the book. The language wasnot addressed to the book, but to Davenport: the book was not called, 'man of sin, ' but Davenport. The words, 'man of sin' had a peculiarmeaning. They were designed in the Scriptures to express condemnation, and horror, and wickedness. They were not synonymous with 'sinfulman, ' though even these words might be considered words of reviling, had they been used in the same circumstances. The contempt affectedby his brother Tippit was so much powder and shot thrown away. Nobodybelieved he really felt it. It was like the grimaces of a culprit, trying to hide his apprehensions by forced smiles. " He concluded byapologizing for not being a poet, like his brother Tippit, nor asfamiliar with goddesses. He knew that his friend was a gallant youngman, and fond of the ladies, and he would confess to the weaknesshimself, but as for goddesses, they were a touch above him, &c. 

The court had listened with patience to both testimony and speech, andwas now to pass sentence, acting up to the advice of a shrewd Englishlawyer, to one who without much legal learning had been appointed toa judgeship in a colony, never to give his reasons when he pronouncedjudgment, for although the judgment had an equal chance to be right orwrong, the reasons were almost certain to be incorrect, Justice Millercontented himself with finding the prisoner guilty, and sentenced himto a week's confinement in the town workhouse. 

It was not without some surprise that the friends of Holden heard thedecision. Although contemplating its possibility, they had indulged ahope that the Justice would be unwilling to subject one so harmless, and whom they considered innocent of all intention to violate the law, to any punishment; but with that reverence for law which characterizesNew England, and without which there can be no security for freeinstitutions, they submitted, although not without some murmurs. Itwas in vain, they knew, to ask for any mitigation; Justice Millerhaving once pronounced sentence, being as inexorable as the SupremeCourt. The room was soon nearly emptied of the spectators, noneremaining except the particular friends of the prisoner. Nothingremained but to carry the sentence into execution. Holden's friendsalso at last took a sorrowful leave, and the mittimus being madeout, it was handed to Basset, to remove the prisoner to the place ofdestination. 

For the sake of greater security, Basset now produced a pair ofhandcuffs, which he put on the condemned man's hands, who offered noobjection, but calmly submitted to his fate. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

 _Armado_. --By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person: thou wert immured, captivated, bound. 

 _Costard_. --True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose. 

 _Armado_. --I give thee thy liberty, set thee free from durance; and in lieu thereof impose on thee nothing but this. 

 LOVE'S LABOR LOST. 

By the time the court had concluded its session it was eight o'clockin the evening. It was quite dark, and the snow was falling heavily. When, therefore, the constable stepped into the street, holding hisprisoner by the arm, it is not surprising that he encountered but fewpassengers. Those whom he did meet had their hats or caps slouchedover their brows, which were bending down upon their breasts toprotect the face from the driving snow. It was impossible, so thickwere the flakes, to see more than a few feet before one. It was afortunate circumstance, inasmuch, at least, as it saved the Reclusefrom the humiliation of being seen by his townsmen. 

The workhouse was situated at the distance of nearly a mile from thecentre of the village, on a little farm of some twenty acres, andstood several rods apart from any inhabited house. It was the half ofa large unpainted wooden building divided into two sections, the otherhalf of which was used as an alms-house, and might be considered as asort of auxiliary or ally of the county jail, to receive those minoroffenders whom the dignity of the latter rejected. 

The road Basset had to travel passed over the lower bridge of theYaupáae, next went up a hill, and then suddenly turning, skirted thelake-like expanse of water, on which the building was situated. Inorder, however, to reach the house, it was necessary to leave the mainroad and pass down a lane of some twenty rods in length. 

Together the pair proceeded through the driving snow, Basset keepinghold of Holden, who walked meekly by his side. The fatalism of thelatter seemed to have taken entire possession of his mind, and heprobably regarded his sufferings as a necessary part of the designsof Providence, which it would be as wicked as vain to resist. Theconstable had repeatedly endeavored to engage his companion inconversation, striving to comfort him with the opinion, that thekeeper of the quasi jail was a "clever man, " and that people did notfind it as bad as they expected, and a week would quickly pass away. "In winter, " said Basset, "when it's hard to get work, I've knownmany a likely young fellow do some trick on purpose to be put into theworkhouse till spring; so it can't be the worst place in the world. "Basset stretched the truth a little. He might have known or heard ofpersons, who, in order to obtain warmth, and food, and shelter duringthat inclement season, had committed petty crimes, but such instanceswere exceedingly rare, and the offenders were anything but "likelyfellows. " But Basset must be excused his leasing, for he felt lonely, and longed to hear the sound of a human voice, and failing that ofanother, was fain to put up with his own as better than none. ButHolden steadily resisted all the advances of the constable, refusingto reply to any question, or to take notice of anything he mightsay, until the latter, either wearied out by the pertinacity of hiscaptive, or vexed by what he considered sullenness or arrogance, himself relapsed into silence. 

They had crossed the bridge, passed up the hill, and traversed theroad along the margin of the Yaupáae, and were now just entering thelane that runs down to the house. The storm was raging with unabatedfury, and the constable, with clenched teeth, and bent head, andhalf-shut eyes, was breasting the driving flakes, and congratulatinghimself with the idea that his exposure would soon be over, and heby the side of a warm stove in one of the stores, the hero of theevening, recounting the adventures of the day and comfortably takinghis cheerful glass, when suddenly, without having seen a person, hiscap was violently pulled over his eyes, a thick coffee-bag slippedover his head, and a hand applied to his throat to stifle any cries, should he be disposed to make them. But the poor fellow was too muchfrightened to emit a sound, had he been never so much inclined toscream. 

"Make no noise, " said a stern but disguised voice, "and you are safe. No injury is designed. I will lead you. Follow quietly. "

The man grasped his arm, and led him, as it seemed, out of thetravelled path into an adjoining field, for he was directed to lifthis feet at a particular spot, and in doing so, struck them againstwhat were evidently wooden bars, such as are everywhere to be found inNew England, at the entrances to the stone wall encircled lots. Theywere followed by Holden, and, as the constable judged, from the slightsounds he succeeded in occasionally catching, by another person. When his captor seemed to think he was in a place where he would beunlikely to be disturbed by a casual passer, he stopped and demandedthe key to the handcuffs. Every movement of the constable must havebeen narrowly watched during the evening, for, as he hesitated, eitherconfused by the unexpected capture, and forgetful of where he hadplaced the key, or desirous to gain time in the hope that help mightarrive--whatever might have been the motive, no time was granted, thesame stern voice instantly adding, "The key is in the right pocket of your pantaloons: give it to me atonce. "

With a trembling hand, the constable produced the key from his pocket, and was confirmed, by what followed, in the belief that his captormust have a coadjutor, for he still kept his hold, and uttered thesingle word "here, " as if addressing another, and handing him the key. Presently, the handcuffs were thrown down at his feet, and he thoughthe could detect the sound of receding footsteps. His captor thendemanded the mittimus, which he tore into small pieces, and scatteredaround. In this condition muffled so that he could hardly breathe, with a desperado, or he knew not how many at his side, who, at theleast attempt to make an outcry, might do him some bodily injury orperhaps murder him, the next quarter of an hour seemed a whole dismalnight to the unfortunate Basset. At the expiration of that time, hisguard addressed him again, and in the same carefully feigned voice:

"You are in my power, and who would know it were I to leave yourcorpse to stiffen on the snow? But I bear you no ill will, and haveno intention to hurt you. I would not harm a hair of your head. I willnot subject you even to the inconvenience of having these fetters onyour wrists, though you were unfeeling enough to place them on a man, the latchet of whose shoes you are unworthy to unloose. Be thankfulfor the forebearance, and show that you know how to appreciate it. Mark what I say. Remain where you are, nor venture to remove thecovering for half an hour. It will keep you warm. Return then to yourhome, nor seek to discover either Holden or who rescued him, and beassured he was not privy to the intention to release him. Remember, remember. Eyes will be upon you. Good night!" So saying, the unknowndeparted and left the stupefied constable like a statue, rooted to thespot. 

There he remained, not daring to stir or to remove the uncomfortablehead-dress--for by what unseen dangers he was surrounded he knewnot--until, as he supposed, the half hour was more than passed. ThenBasset cautiously and slowly raised his hand to his head, as if tointimate that if any one were watching and wanted him to desist, hewas ready to do so, and hearing no sound, proceeded to divest himselfof the hood. He looked around but could see nothing; the falling snoweffectually shut out all objects from sight. He tried to move, butstiff with cold his limbs refused their office, and he nearlyfell down. He took a step forward and his feet struck against thehandcuffs. He stooped down and picked them up, comforting himself withthe reflection, that bad as was his case, it might have been worse hadthey been transferred to his wrists. He strove to peer into the fallensnow, to discover, if possible, any tracks, but except his own justmade none were distinguishable. The snow had already obliterated them. Faint and weary, and frozen, and vexed and frightened, the melancholyBasset turned his face to the village, not among his cronies with boldbrow and loud voice to boast of his achievements, and by the aid ofJohn Barleycorn to screw his courage up to a fabulous pitch, but withdrooping crest and dejected spirits to slink to his bachelor's bed, and dream of banditti all the night. 

A sadder, if not a wiser man

 "He rose the morrow morn. "

Not a word spoke he the next day of his misadventure, until it havingbeen ascertained that Holden had not been at the workhouse, inquirywas made respecting his non-appearance. The constable was then obligedto confess the truth, which his captors, as if defying discovery, had not enjoined him to conceal. Faithful to his instructions, heexculpated Holden from all blame, praising him for his submissivenessto the law, expressing his conviction that the old man knew nothing ofthe intentions of his captors, nor whether they were friends orfoes. Notwithstanding the reluctance of the constable, the indignantJustice, in the first ebullition of his anger, made out anothermittimus, which he almost forced into the other's unwilling hands, andcommanded him to arrest the fugitive, wherever he might find him, bynight or by day, on the Lord's Day or on any other day, were the placethe Sanctuary itself. 

But the rescue had diverted public attention from the Solitary intoanother channel, and the community had not a stock of indignationsufficient, like the Justice, to expend on Holden as well as on hisrescuers. It appeared, even to the few who were originally in favorof his arrest, that he had suffered enough, satisfied as they were, as well from his behavior they had witnessed as from the report of theconstable, that he had in no respect contributed to his freedom, butwas rather compelled to accept it, and therefore attaching no blame tohim for the escape. The resentment of the citizens was now transferredto the daring offenders, who, with a strong hand, had interposedbetween the sentence and the execution of the law, and this lastoffence, as being of so much greater magnitude than Holden's, cast itquite into the shade. Who were they? Who would have the audacity, inthe midst of a law-loving and law-abiding people, to trample on thelaws and defy the State? The constable could give no information. Hehad not even seen a person. He had only heard a voice he never heardbefore. Ought not some persons to be arrested on suspicion? Who shouldthey be? Who were obnoxious to suspicion? The friends of the Solitarywere among the most respectable people in the place. Would it be safeto proceed against them? There would be some hazard in the experiment. They would be sure to defend themselves to the uttermost, and ifsuccessful as they probably would be, would make the movers in thematter rue their officiousness. 

Of such a nature were the various questions discussed around thehearths, and in the bank and shops of the little town of Hillsdale. The excitement was a perfect god-send to stir the sluggish blood ofwinter. Above all it was attractive for the mystery that invested it. But we will leave the village gossips to beat the air with their idlespeculations. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

 I could endure Chains nowhere patiently: and chains at home Where I am free by birthright, not at all. 

 COWPER. 

Bright and beautiful broke the morning after that night of storm. Theweather had cleared up towards midnight, and when the rejoicing sunsurveyed the scene, his golden glances fell on a wide expanse of pure, unsullied white. A slight breeze had arisen, which, gently agitatingthe bent and laden boughs of the evergreens, shook off the fleecyadornment that fell like blossoms from the trees. The air was softand almost balmy, as is not unfrequently the case even in "the deadof winter" in our variable climate, lovelier and dearer for its veryvariableness, like a capricious beauty, whose smile is the more prizedfor the pout that precedes it. It was a day to seduce the old man intothe sunshine in the stoop on the south side of the house, and to bringout the girls and young men, and swift trotting horses and pungs andjingling bells in gay confusion in the streets. 

In the course of the forenoon, a bright crimson sleigh, the bottomfilled with clean straw, and the seats covered with bear and buffalorobes, the horse ornamented around the neck and back with strings ofbells that jangled sweet music every step he took, drove up to thedoor of Judge Bernard. A young man stepped out, whom we recognize asPownal. He entered the house, and in a few minutes returned with AnneBernard, muffled in cloak and boa, and carrying a muff upon her arm. Health glowed in her cheek and happiness lighted up her eyes. Pownalassisted her into the sleigh, and carefully disposing the robes abouther, took his seat by her side and drove off. 

They drove at first into the older part of the town, as yetundescribed by us, nor do we now intend a description, save that theroad was wide, and a considerable part of the way bordered by elms andmaples, glorious with beauty in summer, but now standing like mournersshivering in the wintry air, and as they passed hailed with speciallooks and expressions of admiration those two fraternal elms, toweringover all, like patriarchs of the vegetable world, which, once seen, none will forget. 

 "Huge trunks, and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres, serpentine, Upcoiling, and inveterately convolved-- Nor uninformed with Phantasy and looks That threaten the profane. "

Thence, following the street that winds around the village green, andgreeted by the joyous shouts of acquaintances in passing sleighs, and joining, now and then, in friendly races, they crossed the upperbridge of the Yaupáae, and leaving the shouts and merriment behind, struck into a more secluded road. 

Whatever charms the conversation that passed between the youngpeople might have for them, it would not interest the reader, and wetherefore pass it over. It was such as might be expected between twoyouthful beings, one of whom knew he was in love, and the other beganto suspect, from emotions never felt before, the commencement of apartiality that was as sweet as it was strange. To two hearts thusattached, and tuned to vibrate in harmony, all nature ministers with amore gracious service. The sun is brighter, the sky bluer, the flowermore fragrant, the chime of the brook has a deeper meaning, and aricher music swells the throat of the bird. Things unobserved before, and as unconnected with the new emotion, indifferent, now assumeimportance. A look, a tone of the voice, a pressure of the hand, areevents to dream about and feast upon. In the presence of the belovedobject all things else are either unheeded or dwindle into comparativeinsignificance. 

It will occasion no surprise, then, that Anne, engrossed with her ownhappiness, should hardly have observed the road taken by Pownal, orbeen conscious of how far they had driven, until some remark of hisattracted her attention to the scenery. She then perceived that theywere in the midst of the Indian settlement on the Severn, and to aplayful question of Pownal, inquiring how she would like to leave hercard with Queen Esther, she replied by expressing her delight at theproposition. Esther's cabin stood some little distance off from themain road, towards which a long and narrow winding track led, seldomtravelled by any other vehicles than ox carts and sleds. Over the yetunbroken snow, Pownal directed the horse, the light pung plungingwith every motion of the animal, and threatening to upset, causingmerriment, however, rather than alarm to the occupants of theconveyance. In this manner, straining through the snow-drifts, theyfinally reached the dwelling of Esther. She herself, attracted by thesound of the bells, came to the door, and welcomed them with greatcordiality. 

"Mr. Pownal and I, " cried the lively Anne, "are come to make aNew-Year's call, Esther. I have not your presents with me, but thenext time you are at our house, you shall have them. "

"Miss Anne more'n all present, " replied the pleased Esther. "She cold;she must come to the fire. "

"No, " said Anne, as she was being ushered by the squaw into the cabin, "I am not cold. Why, what a nice"--but the sentence was not concluded. Her eyes had fallen on the stately form of Holden, who sat on a benchnear to the fire. 

"O, father Holden!" exclaimed the lovely girl, running up to him, throwing her arms round his neck, and kissing his forehead, "is ityou? How glad I am you escaped from those abominable men. Tell me allabout it. How was it? Did they do you any harm?"

At this moment, Pownal entered, and advancing, grasped the old man'shand, and congratulated him on his escape. 

"My God, " said Holden, in his wild way, "hath sent His angel and shutthe lions' mouths that they have not hurt me. He raiseth the poor outof the dust, and lifteth the needy out of the mire. "

"But, " urged Anne, with feminine curiosity, "we are anxious to hearhow you escaped. "

The Recluse did not seem to consider it necessary to make anysecret--at least to those present--of the events of the past night, and, with the frankness that characterized him, spoke of them withouthesitation. 

After stating what we already know, he said he was led away rapidly bya man dressed in a sailor's suit, whose face he did not see, and whoaccompanied him until they had passed the last house on the street. They met no one, and, on parting, the man forced a purse into hishand, and entreated him to make his way to the cabin of Esther, wherehe would be safe and welcome, and there to remain until his friendsshould be apprised of his retreat. 

"To me, " concluded the Solitary, "a dungeon or a palace ought to bealike indifferent; but I will not thwart the minds of those who loveme, however vain their desires. The Lord hath brought this lightaffliction upon me for His own good purpose, and I await therevelation of His will. "

"I do not doubt we shall be able soon to release you from yourconfinement, " said Pownal; "meanwhile, tell us what we can do to makeyour condition tolerable. "

"I lack nothing, " said Holden. "These hands have ever supplied mynecessities, and I am a stranger to luxury. Nor liveth man by breadalone, but on sweet tones, and kind looks, and gracious deeds, and Iam encompassed by them. I am rich above gold, and silver, and preciousstones. "

"If there is anything you desire, you will let me know? Command mein all things; there is nothing I am not ready to do for you, " saidPownal. 

"The blessing of one who is ready to depart be upon thee, for thy kindwords and loving intentions; and should real trouble arise, I willcall upon thee for aid. I know not now, " he continued, "why I shouldhide like a wounded beast. I fear 'tis but for a visionary pointof honor. Why should not a gentleman, "--this he saidsarcastically--"occupy the workhouse as well as a boor. In the eyes ofOne, we are all equal. Ah, it might do this hard heart good. "

"You have promised to respect the prejudices of your friends, " saidPownal, "whatever you may think of their weakness. "

"You shall never endure the disgrace, " said Anne, with kindlingcheeks. "See how Providence itself interposes to protect you!"

"Your suggestions, my children, find an echo, alas! too truly in myown heart to be rejected, " said Holden, dejectedly. "I repeat, I willobey you. "

The young people remained for an hour or more at the hut, conversingwith the Solitary, to whom their presence appeared to give greatpleasure; and, before parting, Pownal exchanged some words apart withEsther, having for their object the promotion of her guest's andher own comfort. The kind heart of the squaw needed no incentivesto conceal and protect Holden, but Pownal felt he had no right toencroach upon her slender means, and such arrangements were made aswould more than compensate her. 

As the sleigh started from the door, Anne said to Pownal, with sometenderness in the tone of her voice:

"You need not tell me, Mr. Pownal, the name of one of the strangePaladins last night. How will Faith thank and admire you. But, O, letme beg you to be prudent, lest you fall into the power of these badmen. "

It would have better suited the feelings of Pownal, had Anne utteredher own thanks more directly. His inexperience and distrust of himselfdid not comprehend that it was in reality the way in which the modestgirl expressed the admiration that swelled her heart. 

CHAPTER XX. 

 Impelled with steps unceasing to pursue Some fleeting good that mocks me with the view; That, like the circle, bounding earth and skies, Allures from far, and, as I follow, flies. 

 GOLDSMITH. 

Whenever Tom Gladding and Primus put their heads together, it waspretty certain that there was some mischief afoot, and a few words ofthe conversation, which we overhear, as they walk down the street incompany, leave no doubt on the subject. 

"You see, Prime, " said Gladding, "the foolish fellow ain't cured yet. "

"Let us insult ober his case, " said Primus. 

"I thought he'd got enough; but, he's as parvarse as the nine lives ofa cat. Why, there was the whack at the island, and, then, the jamon the ice, and, last, the scare in the snowstorm; a fellow'sunreasonable to want more, and, yet, the darn'd crittur's holding outhis platter. "

"What you want to put in, Missa Gladding?"

"Some of the same mess. I don't care about hurting him; but, I shouldlike to cure him of his parsecuting ways. "

"Well, you is a good cook. What you up to dis time?" said the General, grinning at the idea of more tricks. 

"Colored people is celebrated for their contrivances; so, scratch yourwool, and give us the benefit of your genius. "

"De sheep hab no gumption, " said Primus, looking grave at thisallusion to his hair. 

"I tell you what I want you to do, " said Tom, taking no notice ofPrimus' gravity, and certain that the old fellow was unable to resistthe temptation to a frolic; "but, don't let's stand here all daytalking. Folks may suspicion something; so, push along, and I'll giveyou my idees. "

They must have pleased the General, for, soon, his face began tobrighten, and his eyes to glisten; and he parted from his companion, apparently, with the best understanding, and in the highest good humorpossible. 

In accordance with the arrangement between them, the negro hunted upBasset, and soon learned from him, that he had a mittimus to commitHolden. The cunning fellow, at first, pretended to dissuade him frommaking use of it, taking care, at the same time, to drop a fewwords, from which, it might be inferred, there was no difficultyin apprehending the fugitive. He, at last, let out the fact, ratherunwillingly, as it seemed, that the Recluse was in the habitof passing his hut, in the evening, on visits--as the Generalsupposed--to his friends in the village. The constable caught at thebait, and, having lost all fear of any resistance, on the part ofthe Solitary, persuaded Primus, with some difficulty, to allow him towatch at his cabin, for his prey; engaging his assistance, at the sametime, should it become necessary. It was, accordingly, agreed, thatthe same night should be devoted to enforce the demands of justice. 

Just before the shades of evening shut in, Basset--agreeably to thepreconcerted plan, presented himself at the hut of the General, andtook his station at the window that commanded, for quite a distance, aview of the road. The moon was shining, and her beams, reflected fromthe snow, made it easy to distinguish objects. The constable sighed, as he took his seat, and declared that, in all his experience, he never had so much difficulty in his legal business. It was theGeneral's cue to encourage his visitor, and keep up his resolution. He, therefore, said, in a cheerful tone--

"Folks say, dere is nebber no lane but hab one turn. Now, dis is deturn. See, how de road twist round my house. Dat is a good sign. "

"If I don't git him this time, " said Basset, "I guess I might as wellgive it up, and the State of Connecticut may just be reckoned beat. "

"Don't ground you arms yet, Missa Basset. In de long run, de raal gritallers carry de day. "

"When I think it all over, " said the constable, musing, "it seems kindo' queer. I'm sort o' bewitched, and, if the days of witches wasn'tgone by, I shouldn't wonder if some of them hadn't got me in tow. But, I ain't going to give it up yet. I don't forget the old chap'sknocking me down in the dark behind my back, as though I'd been nobetter than a woodchuck or a skunk. "

"How it feel, Missa Basset?" inquired Primus, with a grin. "Did de oldman strike wid de soft side or de hard side ob de cudgel?"

"You needn't show your ivory, " said the constable, whom theremembrance of his misfortune irritated; "I wish to conscience you'dfelt it yourself; you'd have known, then, without the need of askingquestions. "

"Golly! Missa Basset, " exclaimed Primus. "You tink nobody hab feelingbut yousef. You gib my arm sich a winch when de ole man kick youbehind, or knock you ober (I nebber know which) dat I feel him now. "

"He didn't kick me, " said Basset, indignantly. "'Twas a regularassault with a club, I tell you. "

"Well, I shouldn't like sich salt on my shoulder, aldo dey say, saltbery good to keep de wound from catching cold. "

"I tell you what, darkey, " cried the constable, losing patience at theother's sneers. "You talk like an old fool. If you hain't got anythingpleasanter to say, you might as well shut up. "

"Yes, I be an old fool, " said Primus, as if speaking to himself, "anddis is all de tank I git from dis white man. I depose my life on deribber. I git a'most murdered when de ghost kick him behind; he breakmy leg made out ob a good piece ob ash; I invite him to my house, likea gen'leman, and de civilest word I get, is--darkey and old fool. Yes, Primus, you complexion is dark, and you be a big fool. "

"Don't take on so, Prime, " said Basset; "I spoke rash, and I ask yourpardon. But, what's the use of aggravating a man in that way!"

"I tink you must 'scuse my keeping company wid you, arter to-night, "continued Primus, looking steadily into the fire, and knitting hisbrows; "I nebber get noting but bad luck in his sarvice. Next time, I git my neck broke, and den 'tis all done wid dis poor niggur. Decarpenter find hard work to make one to fit. "

"Now, Prime, " said Basset, "you're rather too hard. I asked yourpardon, and that's all a man can do. I'm sure I didn't mean to set youagoing at this rate. "

"It bery easy, Massa Basset, to say I ask you pardon, and bery politefor a white man to say it to a colored pusson, but does dat pay for debreaking ob a leg or de setting ob my neck?"

"What did it cost to mend your leg?"

"I gib Fannin, de carpenter, a halb dollar for a new one dat wasn'thalf so good as de ole one. "

"Well, I vow, that's considerable for an old stick, 'cause I knowthere wasn't no new iron work about it, for you had the old feruleleft; but seeing as how I broke it, I'll split the difference withyou, so there's a quarter. But why didn't you speak of it afore?"

"'Cause, " said Primus, taking the money with eyes brightening at thesight, "'tween gen'lemen, de trifle was too small. "

"Well, you're a curious chap. Now most folks would have dunned meright off for the damage. There's Tom Gladding', if he had a woodenleg, and I broke it, don't you suppose he'd make me settle beforesunset next day? Besides the law was all on your side. "

"I guess, Massa Gladding 'tend to business in his own way, " said thenow good-humored General, "but you, Squire, is an old 'quaintance, andyou disappointment so great, I didn't like to mention de leg. "

As soon as Primus uttered the word "Squire, " Basset knew that thereconciliation between them was complete. The General never used theword in reference to his companion, except when pleased and desirousto pay a compliment, and was fully aware of the effect it produced. The constable, born and bred among a people fond of titles, and fondof giving them, was not exempt from the common weakness. He, however, thought it incumbent on him to disclaim the dignity, to which Primusanswered, that if he were not a Squire he ought to be, and would benext year. 

A tall figure, which, from the gait and dress, appeared to be that ofHolden, was now seen approaching deliberately in the moonlight, andthe constable addressed himself to the performance of his duty. It wasthought best to allow the fugitive to pass the cabin, so that in theevent of an attempt at evasion, which was not anticipated indeed, butwhich the prudent General thought ought to be guarded against, thedifficulty of escape might be greater. As the man advanced, theconstable was certain it was Holden. There was the long beard fallingon his breast, and the grey frock girt with a sash; and had not thecap been pulled down low over his forehead, even the features mighthave been distinguishable. 

After the person had passed, Basset cautiously opened the door andquietly stole after him, but, in spite of every precaution, it wasimpossible to move without making a sound on the crisp snow, easilyheard in the still night. The person heard it, and turning his head, beheld the constable two or three rods in the rear. Basset observinghim look round, quickened his pace, and advanced confidently to makethe capture; but in the same proportion the figure hastened his steps. Thereupon the constable increased his speed, in which he was imitatedby the other, until both pursuer and pursued were in a run. 

It was now who should run the fastest. The race had hitherto beenin the road, and Basset was evidently gaining on the fugitive, when, turning short, the latter jumped over some bars which had been leftdown, and directed his course across a field. The constable's bloodwas up, and without hesitation, he followed, every moment lesseningthe distance between himself and the chase. He could not help, as heran, wondering at the agility of Holden, from whom, on account of hisseeming age, he had not anticipated such activity, and ascribed itnow to his greater length of limb, and habit of constant exercise andexposure. And now he was within a few feet of him, and extending hisarm to place his hand on the captive's shoulder, when suddenly theground gave way under his feet, and he was precipitated to an unknowndepth, while the snow came tumbling down upon his head, blinding andcovering him up, so as to leave him at first in total darkness. The astonished and confused constable, by dint of struggling andfloundering about, succeeded at length in disencumbering himself ofthe superincumbent load of snow and cornstalks, and was able to forman idea of his situation. He found himself in a large hole, at a depthof six or seven feet below the surface of the ground, to escape fromwhich every effort proved fruitless. In vain the entrapped Bassetsprung up the sides again and again, and grasped at the snow, in hopeto catch hold of some object on which to retain a hold; it yieldedto his hands, and every time he fell back more and more exhausted. Heendeavored to attract assistance by shouting, but it seemed as if hisvoice mounted no higher than to the top of the hole. He looked up. Nothing was to be seen but the moon gazing sadly upon him, and thestars winking at him their glittering eyes. Frightened and vexed, hethrew himself upon the bottom of the hole, then got up, and dashingdown his cap, stamped upon it in ungovernable rage, vowing vengeanceagainst the traitor, Primus, who, he did not doubt, had led himinto the snare. At first the violent exercise, and next vexationand resentment, kept him warm; but gradually the effect of thefirst passed off, and then the latter, without its aid, was foundineffectual to ward off the cold. The teeth of poor Basset began tochatter, and tears of anger and apprehension fell from his eyes. Hestarted up, and again tried the walls of his prison, but they were toosteep, and too slippery, to permit exit, and at last, with desperatecalmness, he resigned himself to his fate, and awaited such result asProvidence might send. The thought of starvation and freezing todeath passed through his mind, but he was too fully convinced of thecomplicity of the black to believe he was ignorant of his condition, and satisfied that, however tricky, he intended no serious harm. Therewas comfort in the thought, and as these reflections prevailed hebecame more composed, while a sense of shame succeeded to that ofdespair. Shrugging himself together to keep warm, and lifting uphis voice from time to time in a shout, if, perchance, some casualwayfarer might catch the sound, the constable waited for deliverance. 

Meanwhile, Gladding, for it was no other, who personated the Solitary, and the General were cozily seated by the fire in the hut of thelatter, discussing the events of the evening. The false beard waslying on a chair, and a large stone pitcher, containing cider, wasplaced near the centre of a table, on which the elbow of Tom wasleaning, who, from time to time, replenished a mug with the liquor, which made frequent journeys to his mouth. The old General, withhis pipe, was seated on the other side of the table, and appeared asfervent in his devotions to the pitcher as his guest. 

"I tell you what, Prime, " said Tom, "I come plaguy nigh tumbling inmyself. I thought I marked the spot exactly, but somehow or other thesnow light sort o' blinded me, and I stepped right on the edge, andhad to spring for't like all natur'. "

"Dat would a been fust rate, to catch two fox in one trap, " said theGeneral, the whites of whose eyes gleamed plainer than ever in thefire light at the thought. 

"Fun for you, but not for me by a long chalk. Basset would have thebest on't, too, for he'd have come right top on me. How the critturwould have crowed!"

"I hear him crow two or tree time already, " said Primus, who had beento the door several times, and could detect faint sounds whenever theimprisoned Basset shouted. 

"Let him try his lungs a little longer. It will clear his voice forsinging school. I guess I must go to meeting next Sabbath, if fornothing else, to hear him perform. "

"But I 'fraid de poor man freeze, " said the compassionate General. 

"Never fear, 'twon't hurt him. It will do him good to freeze some ofthe ugliness out of him. Besides it's best to wait awhile. Perhaps, somebody coming along will help him out, and that will save you thetrouble. "

"Me! Missa Gladding! what hab I to do wid it? You put him dere, andyou is de one to pull him out. "

"Don't be onreasonable, Prime, now. You see, if I should go, he'dknow, of course, all about it. Why, he'd recollect the clothes, andnext thing I should be took up for assault and battery. "

"And who save me from being took up?"

"O, there ain't no danger of that. They can't git no hold on ye. Youcan say you hearn crying for help, and didn't know but what Holden hadturned on him, and so come to assist. "

Primus shook his head dubiously. He hardly knew what to reply, yet wasevidently disinclined to the adventure. For that reason, perhaps, heallowed Basset to remain in durance longer than his own good-natureprompted, in the hope that relief might arrive from some otherquarter. 

"I vow, " at last exclaimed Gladding, "if I don't believe you're afraidBasset will give you a licking. "

"Basset, nor no oder man, ebber see de day nor night to make me'fraid, " said the valorous General, whose natural courage was alittle stimulated by the cider he had been drinking, starting up andpreparing for his expedition. "But, Missa Gladding, you promise tostand by me if dis scrape go any furder. "

"Sartainly, " answered Tom, "I never left a friend in the lurch, I tellyou. "

"Gib us you hand on dat. "

Tom extended a great sledge-hammer fist, and the two shook hands insign of inviolable fidelity. 

"Now, " said Tom, "I guess, I'll make myself scarce. I wouldn't havehim see me in this rig for all the cider I drank to-night. There'ssome left in the old pitcher, so fetch him along, and comfort thecritter's heart with a few swigs. "

With these words, Tom took his leave, first altering somewhat thedisposition of his garments, divesting himself of the sash, placingthe cap higher on his brows, and depositing the false beard in hispocket, while Primus, lighting a fresh pipe, sallied forth on hiserrand of benevolence. 

As he approached he could hear plainer the halloo which Bassetoccasionally emitted from his trap. The ears of the latter sharpenedby expectation, caught the sound of the advancing steps, while as yetthe deliverer was at too great a distance to see the hole, and hiscries for assistance were redoubled. 

"Help!" he cried, "help! They want to murder me. This way--here, inthe old well--this way--O, Lord!"

Such were the cries that saluted the ears of Primus, as soon as he wasnear enough to distinguish articulate sounds. 

"Who dere?" cried the General. 

"O, Prime, help us out of this tarnation hole, " groaned Basset. 

"Onpossible! can dis be you, Missa Basset?" inquired Primus, peeringover the edge of the pit. "How come you dere?"

"Don't ask no questions, now, though, I guess, you know as well asme. "

"His head turn wid de scare, probumbly, " soliloquized Primus, loudenough to be heard by the captive. "I curus to larn how you fall in. Ebberybody know dis hole, Missa Basset. "

"Haul me out, and I'll let you know. "

There was something in the tone of voice that did not at all pleasethe General, so looking around, and observing no one in sight, forit was a lonely place, and having all the advantage on his side, heresolved to parley, and secure satisfactory terms before he deliveredthe prisoner. 

"I bery sorry for you, Missa Basset, " he said, "and if you waitawhile, I go to de village to git a rope to haul you out. "

But this proposition was far from suiting the constable. Now thatassistance was near at hand, he dreaded to lose it out of sight orhearing. He knew there was no necessity for procuring any rope, andfeared that if Primus put his threatened plan into execution, he wouldbring along with him a rabble of men and boys, to jeer at and ridiculehis sufferings. This now seemed worse than all he had already endured;he was, therefore, willing to make any compromise to avert thedisaster. 

"Don't go, don't go, Prime, " begged the constable. "Just give us yourhand, and pull us out of this infarnal place. There's no need of anyrope. "

"But suppose you pull me in arter you, what we do den? De fire wouldbe all in de fat. Beside, you talk as if you respect me. No, I tink Ibe safer if oder folks be here, too. "

"O, Prime, " whined Basset, "you hain't no better friend in the worldthan me, and no more bowels of marcy than a stump. I tell ye, I don'tsuspect you. Lend us a hand, and I'll never forget it, the longest dayI have to live. "

"Well, " said the General, "you must make us a promise, fust. "

"What promise? I'll make any promise you please, only do help us out. I'm 'most dead with cold. "

"You must promise nebber to say any ting about dis night. Dere's'spicious folks round, like de doctor, and when dey hear you git catchlike a rat in a trap, dey is likely to say, 'Ah, dat is dat old niggurPrimus's work, ' and so I lose my good character. De innocent man mustbe like de weasel dat is nebber catch asleep. "

It went hard against the grain, for the constable to make the promise, but there was no alternative except remaining there, he knew not howlong, finally to be extricated by a laughing crowd. With a very illgrace, therefore, he promised all that Primus required, and would havebound himself to ten times more, if necessary; but the General wasgenerous, and asked only security for the future, having no indemnityto demand for the past. Planting his sound foot firmly in the snow, the General extended his hand, which being grasped by Basset, he wassoon delivered from thraldom. 

"What's to hender me now, you infernal darkey, " exclaimed theexasperated constable, as soon as he found himself in the upper air, "from throwing you into the well, and letting you rot there!"

"What to hender, Missa Basset?" returned the General, stepping back. "You own feelings, Missa Basset. But you can try it if you please, " headded, letting fall his arms by his sides, which, at the threateningtone of the constable, he had raised instinctively in self-defence. 

But the other seemed more disposed to allow his anger to explode inwords than to resort to violence. 

"To be chucked into a hole like a dead cat, by a cunning old woolhead, was more'n mortal man could bear, " he said, "and he didn't knowwhy he shouldn't knock out his black brains, on the spot. "

"You can try de 'speriment, if you please, " said Primus, cooly, "andwhen dey is knock out, I advise you to gadder dem up for you own use. "

"You're a saacy nigger, " said Basset, "and if I sarved you right, I'dclap you into the workhouse. "

"Missa Basset, you bery mad; and when a man is mad, he alwaysonreasonable. But fire away--it keep you warm, and stop you catchingcold. "

"Onreasonable! when a fellow's been sprawling about in snow andcornstalks, for more'n two hours, and got more'n half froze! How wouldyou like it?"

"If Missa Basset chase Missa Holden, in de moonlight, and fall into ahole, is I to blame?"

"I don't believe it was Holden. I believe it was all a plan betweenyou and some other fellow to git me into the scrape. Come, now, Prime, " he said, moderating his voice into a less ill-natured tone, "tell us, and I'll let you off this time. "

"O, Lord!" exclaimed Primus, lifting up his hands, with open palms, and rolling up his eyes towards the moon, "de man is crazy wid defright, and he see Missa Holden, too, widin two tree feet. "

He turned now on his way home, as if disdaining longer converse withone who refused to listen to reason. The constable followed at hisside, growling the whole way, and reproaching the General with hisperfidy, the latter protesting it was Basset's own fault, "when heknew dere was a hole dere, " and that he would have nothing to do withhim, or with the cunning old man, for the future. Upon arriving at thebars, Primus, notwithstanding his indignation at the suspicion caston his honor, courteously invited Basset to take a drink with him, but the latter, suspecting, perhaps, another snare, was in no humorto accept the invitation; and, turning away without even noticing theblack's good-night, directed hasty steps towards the lights of thetown. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

 "Who called you forth from night and utter death, From dark and icy caverns, called you forth, Down those precipitous black-jagged rocks, For ever shattered, and the same for ever? Who gave you your invulnerable life, Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, Unceasing thunder and eternal foam?"

 COLERIDGE. 

William Bernard had, of late, been more than usually attracted to thesociety of Faith. In habits of familiar intercourse with the familyof the Armstrongs, from his childhood, and admitted to almost the samedegree of intimacy which exists between brothers and sisters withthe little black-eyed girl whom, in winter, he drew on his sled, withAnne, to school, and, to fill whose apron, he shook chestnuts andwalnuts from the trees, in autumn, he and Faith had never had, duringthe earlier period of their acquaintance, feelings other than thoseattaching one to another, members of the same household. The fact thatFaith had no brother, taken in connection with her love for Anne, hadcaused her to lean more on William, and be willing to call upon himfor a thousand little services, which he was as ready to grant as sheto ask. These, in the years of childhood, were rewarded by a kiss, orpermission to ride on her rocking-horse, or to make calls, with Anneand herself, on their dolls, and so forth; but as years rolled on, and vague feelings and shadowy intimations assumed definiteness, adelicate veil of reserve imperceptibly interposed itself, as effectualto bar the former familiarity as if a Chinese wall had been builtbetween them. Yet, for years, no warmer sentiment succeeded; and, though William Bernard felt pleasure in the society of his beautifulneighbor, he experienced no uneasiness in her absence. 

But a change was destined to take place which, indeed, it issurprising had not sooner occurred. William found himself, he hardlyknew how, more frequently in the company of his sister's lovelyfriend, notwithstanding it was with a more timid step he sought thedwelling of Mr. Armstrong. For it seemed to him as if the littlecommunity were beginning to suspect the existence of those feelingswhich, like the morning glory, shrink from the rays of the sun. Theywere too delicate for inspection. They were like the wing of thebutterfly or the plumage of the humming-bird, which cannot be handledwithout being tarnished. Hence, though longing to enter the house asin his school-boy days, were it only to catch for a moment the soundsof Faith's voice or a glimpse of her face, he would content himselfwith merely passing by, deriving a satisfaction from the consciousnessof being nearer to her, and of gazing on the house beautified byher presence. Besides, as his feelings became more interested, hisdistrust of himself increased. The heart of the bold, young man, whichreal danger had never disturbed, fluttered like a caught bird at thevoice of Faith, more and more, and he hesitated to make an avowalwhich might, indeed, crown his hopes, but which might, also, dash themto the ground. For he could not conceal from himself that Faith, sofar from giving him encouragement as a lover, had never even appearedto suspect his feelings. Her conduct had always been the same, thesame unreserved confidence, the same frank, unconstrained deportment. She spoke to him as freely as ever of her hopes and fears; she tookhis arm as readily, nor did a blush welcome his coming or a tremor ofthe voice signalize his departure. 

Young ladies are usually sharp-sighted enough in detecting admiration, and fathoming the heart of a lover, and some may think her want ofpenetration strange. If so, I must entreat indulgence for my simpleFaith. Be the circumstances remembered in which she was placed and hadgrown up; her child-like innocence and purity, unacquainted withthe world, her seclusion from society, the intimacy that had alwaysexisted between her and young Bernard, which continued to makemany attentions that would have been marked in another, natural andexpected from him, and the want of all preoccupation in his favor, and the surprise of the keen-sighted will diminish. Is not aninexperienced and modest girl slow to suspect in another, emotionstowards herself of a kind which she has never felt?

William Bernard, then, had never told his love, nor did MissArmstrong dream of its existence. To her he was the dear friend ofher childhood, and nothing more. His mother and sister suspectedthe condition of his heart, and it was with calm satisfaction in theformer, and a glow of delight in the latter, that they looked forwardto the time when the attentions and amiable qualities of the son andbrother should ripen the friendship of the unimpassioned beauty intolove. Of this result, with a pardonable partiality they did not doubt. With this explanation of the feelings of the two young people towardseach other at this time, we will accompany them on a morning walk tothe Falls of the Yaupáae. 

It was one of those bright, glorious days which the poet Herrick callsthe "bridal of the earth and sky. " From a heaven intensely blue, thesun, without a cloud, "looked like a God" over his dominions. Somerain had fallen in the night, and the weather suddenly clearing uptowards morning, had hardened the moisture into ice. Every bush, everytree, the fences, were covered with a shining mail, from whichand from the crisped surface of the snow, the rays of the sun werereflected, and filled the air with a sparkling light. Transmuted, asby a magician's wand, the bare trees were no longer ordinary trees. They were miracles of vegetable silver and crystal. Mingled amongthem, the evergreens glittered like masses of emerald hung withdiamonds. Aladdin, in the enchanted cavern, saw not so brilliant aspectacle. 

The narrow road which led to the Falls descended a declivity, where itleft the main street until it came to within a few feet of the surfaceof the river, then curving round the base of the hill, it skirted thewinding margin of the stream until it ascended another hill, on thetop of which, from a platform of level rock, one of the finest viewswas commanded. The path was slippery with ice, and in descending thedeclivity the arm of Bernard was necessary to support the uncertainsteps of his companion. It was with a sort of tremor he offered it, ofwhich Faith was all unconscious. She took it without hesitation, andstepping cautiously over the glazed surface, and laughing at eachother's slips, the young couple pursued their walk. On their right wasa steep hill, rising in some places to a height of one hundred feetabove their heads, covered over, for a considerable distance along theroad, with the perennial beauty of the graceful hemlock and savin, nowresplendent in jewels; and on the left the Yaupàae, its frozen levelhid in snow, out of which the trees and shrubs on the little islandsraised their silver armor glittering in the sun. In the distance, and visible from the greater part of the road, the river, in a narrowchasm, dashed down the rocks. An unusual quantity of snow had latelyfallen, which, having been succeeded by heavy rains, had swollen thestream to more than double its ordinary size. It was evidentthat, what in the language of the country is called a freshet wascommencing. Such is the name given to those swellings of the water, the most formidable of which commonly occur in the month of February, or early in the Spring, when the overcharged rivers, bursting theirboundaries and overflowing the neighboring lowlands, sometimesoccasion great damage to property, sweeping away bridges, and mills, and dams, with irresistible violence. 

The roaring of the Falls had been long distinguishable, but, it wasnot until the first curve in the road had been turned, that they cameinto sight. "

"Look! Faith, " cried Bernard, as they burst into view; "did you eversee them more magnificent?"

The attention of the young lady had been, hitherto, too much engrossedby the necessity of watching her footsteps down the descent, to givemuch heed to surrounding objects; but, now, she looked up, havingreached the comparatively level spot, which extended as far asthe second hill or rising ground above mentioned, and felt all theadmiration expressed by her companion. 

"They are grand, " she replied. "I have beheld this view a thousandtimes, and never weary of its beauty. I do not know whether I love itmore in summer or in winter. "

"How would you express the difference of your feelings, then and now?"

"I am afraid I have not the skill to put the feeling into words. But, the impression, on a day like this, is of a magnificence and splendorunusual to the earth. In summer, the beauty though less astonishing, is of a softer character. "

"You would rather listen to the song of the robin, and of our northernmocking-bird, than to the roaring of the angry river?"

"There is no anger in the sound, William, " she replied, looking upinto his face; "It is the shout of praise to its Creator, and thedashing of the torrents over the rocks are the clapping of its hands. "

"You are right, Faith. How much better you are tuned to the meaningsof nature than I?"

"You do yourself injustice. It was your love of all this beauty thatinduced you to invite me to this walk. Without you I should havemissed it, nor known what I had lost. "

William Bernard sighed. She has not, he thought, the least suspicionthat I love her. She does not know, and would not care if she did, that, by her side, the only prospect I behold is herself, and theinvitation to this stroll but a pretext to approach her. 

"Your presence, dear Faith, " said he, "imparts a double charm to thescenery. "

"It is sweet, " she answered, leaning, as it seemed to him, at themoment, more affectionately on his arm, "to have one to whom we cansay, how lovely is all this loveliness. "

"The sentiment of the Poet never seemed so true before, " said Bernard, looking at her with admiration. 

She made no reply, for her whole soul was absorbed by the view beforeher. 

They had arrived at the platform, which, somewhat higher than theFall, commands a prospect of the river and surrounding country. Belowthem foamed and thundered the torrent, which, first, making a leapsome twenty feet down, over large, irregularly-shaped boulders ofgranite, that strove to oppose its passage, rushed in a steep descentover a bed of solid stone, irregularly worn by the action of thewater; and, then, contracting itself between its adamantine walls, burst in distracted fury, like a maniac, from the narrow throat. Against the opposing rocks, which, perhaps, had fallen into theYaupàae, when the fierce convulsion of nature opened the chasm, andbade the river pour down the gorge--the water lashed with ceaselessrage, throwing the spray high into the air. This, freezing as itfell, encrusted the rough sides of the beetling crags with icy layers, covering them all over with plates like silver, and hanging them withstalactites. Right in front, and separated only by the narrow passfrom the ledge on which they stood, still higher than which it rose, towered a huge rock, perpendicularly, to a height of ninety or onehundred feet above the cataract. Its foam-beaten base, just abovethe water, was encased in icy incrustations, higher up, gray mossoverspread its flat side, and tufts of cedar struggled through thefissures, whilst its top was canopied with hemlocks and savins, andwhite oaks. Looking towards the left, the eye swept over the greenhill-side, along which they had walked, and, glancing over the islandsin the Yaupáae, followed the winding coarse of the river, catchinghere and there on ground, that sloped to the stream, the sight ofwhite buildings, with green blinds, till the surrounding hills shut inthe view. 

They both stood silent, as they looked, she, unwilling, by anexclamation, to break the charm; and he, with his mind full of thelovely creature before him. Surely, never so angelic a being gazedupon that scene! As, with kindling countenance and suspended breath, her dark eyes flashing with enthusiasm, her soul drank in thesublimity and sparkling radiance that enveloped her, she seemedno being of mortal mould, but some celestial visitant. The raptexpression of her face gradually settled into awe, and she softlymurmured these lines, of the Russian poet, Derzhavin--

 "God! thus to Thee my lowly thoughts can soar, Thus seek thy presence, Being wise and good, 'Midst Thy vast works, admire, obey, adore; And when the tongue is eloquent no more, The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude. "

The tears were indeed standing in her eyes, as she turned and placedher hand in that of Bernard. 

"You must think it strange, " she said, "that I, to whom all this is nonovelty should be thus affected. It is a weakness from which I shallnever recover. "

"Not weakness, dear Faith, " said Bernard, "but the impressibility of apoetical temperament. Only an insensible heart could be unmoved. "

"If these rocks could speak, what legends they might tell of vanishedraces, " said Faith. "There is something inexpressibly sad in the fateof those who once were the masters of these woods and fields, andstreams. 

"They but submit to the common fate, which compels the inferior tomake way for the superior race, as my father says. "

"How beautiful, " she continued, "must this goodly land have seemed tothe Indian hunter, when, after the day's chase, he dropped the deerupon the ground, and, from this high point, looked over the greenforests and shining stream. I should not wonder, if now, in the voiceof the cataract, he fancies he hears the groans of his ancestors, andthe screams of demons. "

"There are traditions connected with this place, " said Bernard, "butthey are fast fading away, and promise soon to be forgotten. "

"Are you acquainted with any?"

"A friend of mine has endeavored to rescue one from oblivion, but Idoubt if it would interest you. "

"I am interested in everything that relates to this people. Tell methe story now. What more fitting place for romance!"

"A fitting place certainly, but no fitting time. Romance would hardlymitigate the keenness of the air, or diminish the probability oftaking cold, were you to stand here listening to Indian legends. Besides, the tale is in manuscript, and I should not be able, relyingon memory, to do it justice. "

"You shall read it to me this evening, where you cannot make suchexcuses, " she replied, taking again his arm, and resuming their walk, "by the light of candles, and near the parlor fire, where we may hear, and not feel the wind. "

"But where would be the accompaniments of the tale? The framing I fearwould spoil the picture. "

"You will have the benefit of contrast, which every great painterdesires. "

"I am only too happy to please you, " he said, with a sigh. 

"My almost brother, William, I knew you would not refuse me thefavor. "

Conversing in this manner, they had reached a turn in the road, whichled back to the village by a route different from that they had come, when they saw Esther approaching, with her son. The boy walked inadvance of his mother, who seemed to tread in his steps, while thatunfailing companion of the semi-civilized red man, a dog, lounged byhis side. 

Quadaquina was a handsome child, of thirteen or fourteen years of age, with a perfectly oval face, and eyes deep set and keen, that glitteredlike a snake's, resembling his mother, from whom he inherited hisbeauty. His dress differed not from that of white boys, exceptthat there was thrown round his shoulders a piece of coarse bluebroadcloth, disposed like a shawl. Esther had on her head a darkcolored felt hat, such as is worn by laborers, from beneath which longblack hair fell down upon her shoulders. A shawl, like the boy's, wasthrown over her, a skirt, of the same material, extended half way downbetween the knee and ankle, and crimson leggins completed the dress. 

As they came up, Faith and Bernard stopped to speak to them, andinquire after Holden. She had been apprised of his escape, and of thevisit of Pownal and Anne, but had refrained from going to his retreatin consequence of its being thought advisable to attract as littleattention to it as possible. To her inquiries Esther returned the mostsatisfactory answers. Holden appeared quite contented, and was engagedin preaching to the Indians, and teaching them the principles of theChristian faith. 

"Do the Indians listen to what he says?" inquired Bernard. 

"They listen; Indian always listen, " said Esther, "and the wind blowthe words through the ears. "

"I suppose so, " said the young man, laughing. "Holden may nowtruly call himself the voice of one crying in the wilderness, and awilderness it is likely to remain. "

There was something both in the manner and language that jarred thefeelings of Faith, and she said:

"I will never give up the hope that these poor people may beChristianized. Do you not think, Esther, that there has been animprovement in the habits of the tribe within a few years?"

Esther hung down her head, and only answered, "Indian will be Indian. "

"I will not despair, " said Faith. "Be sure, Esther, you come to thehouse before you return. I have something for you, and a message forFather Holden. 

"I can conceive of no character, " said Faith, after they had partedfrom Esther, "more noble than that of the Christian missionary. He isthe true redresser of wrongs, the only real knight that ever lived. You smile, " she said, looking at Bernard. "Do you not think so?"

"I think with you, " he replied. "There can be no nobler man than hewho submits to privation, and exposes his life to danger through loveto his fellow man. It is God-like. But I smiled at the association ofideas, and not at the sentiment. Think of Holden as a knight. "

"To me there is nothing ludicrous in the thought. When I look at him, I see not the coarse unusual dress, but the heroic soul, that wouldhave battled valiantly by the side of Godfrey for the holy sepulchre. "

"I am afraid he will meet with only disappointment in his efforts toreform the Indians. "

"We cannot know the result of any labor. We will do our duty, andleave the rest to God. "

"They have not the degree of cultivation necessary to the reception ofa religion so refined and spiritual as the Christian. They must firstbe educated up to it. "

"But you would not, meanwhile, neglect the very thing for which theyare educated. Religious instruction must be a part of the education, and it brings refinement with it. "

"Certainly, if it can be received; but therein consists thedifficulty. I am afraid it is as reasonable to expect a savage toapprehend the exalted truths of Christianity, as one unaquainted withgeometry, the forty-ninth proposition of the first book of Euclid. "

"The comparison is not just. Science demands pure intellect; butreligion, both intellect and feeling, perhaps most of the latter. The mind is susceptible of high cultivation, the heart feelsinstinctively, and that of a peasant may throb with purer feeling thana philosopher's and for that reason be more ready to receive religioustruth. And who may limit the grace of God?"

"You have thought deeper on this subject than I, Faith. But howhard must it be for the rays of divine truth to pierce through theblackness of that degradation which civilization has entailed on them!The conversion of the North American Indian was easier at the landingof the Pilgrims than now. "

"The greater our duty, " exclaimed Faith, clasping her hands, "to atonefor the wrongs we have inflicted. But, William, some good has beendone. Look at my dear, good Esther. "

"Esther deserves your praise, I am sure, because you say it. But it isyou that have made her good. She could not be with you, without beingbenefited. "

"You are very kind, but no merit attaches to me. They were theprecepts of Christianity that softened her heart, though she wasalways gentle. "

"It was the sweetness of religion she heard in your voice, itskindness she read in your eyes, and its loveliness illustrated in yourlife, that attracted and improved Esther"

"Were I to admit what you say, the credit would, after all, belong toreligion. "

The sun had nearly reached his meridian, as the young coupleapproached the house of Mr. Armstrong. What a change had been producedin a few hours! The warm sunshine, while it glorified the landscapehad robbed it of its sparkling beauty. The trees no longer wore theirsilver armor; the branches, relieved of the unusual weight, hadlost the graceful curves and resumed their original positions; whiteblossoms no longer bedecked the evergreens; and all around, large drops were falling, as if lamenting the passing away of theshort-lived magnificence. 

On parting from Bernard, at her father's door, Faith reminded him ofhis promise, and invited him and Anne to tea with her in the evening. Bernard accepted the invitation for himself, and conditionally for hissister. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

 "O nymph, with loosely flowing hair, With buskined leg, and bosom bare, Thy waist with myrtle girdle bound, Thy brow with Indian feathers crowned, Waving in thy snowy hand An all-commanding magic wand Of power, to bid fresh gardens blow, Mid cheerless Lapland's barren snow!"

 JOSEPH WARTON. 

Bernard and his sister, on their arrival, found only Mr. Armstrongand his daughter, but were joined, in the course of the evening, byPownal, at whose arrival all expressed pleasure. The whole companyunited with Miss Armstrong in requesting Bernard to read the legend, who, at last, produced the manuscript from his pocket. 

"I must entreat your indulgence, " he said, "for the defects of whichthe piece is full. The author is an inexperienced writer, andunable, like an accomplished hand, to atone by elegance of style forimprobability or poverty of incident. You will expect no more thanthat he should observe the proprieties of his subject, nor require himto introduce into a tale of the children of Nature the refinementof language or delicacy of sentiment, to be met with in the modernromance. The stories of an uncivilized people must be rude, evenapproaching in simplicity tales designed for children. "

"The writer could not have an audience more ready to be pleased, " saidMr. Armstrong; "and are we not all children of various growths?"

"I do not believe any excuses are necessary, " said Faith, "and amexpecting a great deal of pleasure. "

"The more extravagant, the better, " cried Anne. "What can equal theArabian Nights Entertainment?"

"We are all attention, " said Pownal; "so whistle your apprehensions, Bernard, to the wind. "

Thus encouraged, the young man opened his manuscript, and commencedreading. 

 THE LEGEND OF MAGISAUNIKWA AND LEELINAU. 

Where the clear Sakimau mingles its waters with the great salt lake, which would be too salt, but for the innumerable rivers that pourthemselves into its bosom, the mighty Aishkwagon-ai-bee, whose name, rendered into the language of the pale faces, is the 'Feather ofHonor, ' had erected his lodge. He was the war-chief of a tribe whosename is lost in the mists of antiquity. He boasted his descent fromthe great Ojeeg, of whom it is related that he opened a hole in theblue sky and let out the soft, warm air of Paradise, so that itpoured down upon the earth, and bestowed summer upon a region beforecondemned to perpetual cold. He also liberated the singing-birdsfrom the mocucks, or basket-cages, where they were confined, which, descending through the aperture, have since enlivened the woods andfields with their melodies. He was unable to return to this world, andmay still be seen in the heavens, being changed into the stars calledOjeeg Annung, known to the wise men among the pale faces as theConstellation of the Plough. 

Nor was Aishkwagon-ai-bee unworthy of his noble descent. The grandeurof his thoughts and the boldness of his achievements proved thepurity of his blood. A skillful hunter, a successful warrior, equallyrenowned for wisdom in council and bravery in action, he enjoyed thehighest consideration, not only in his own tribe, but as far as thegreat lakes to the North, and the river Delaware to the South. When hepointed to the beautiful scalps that adorned the sides of his wigwam, he could with truth say, there was not one of them but had graced thehead of a warrior. 

The Sachem had several children, sons and daughters, and among thelatter, the lovely Leelinau was the darling of his heart. The maidenhad attained the age of eighteen, and was the admiration of the youthfor many days' journey round. Her cheeks were the color of thewild honey-suckle, her lips like strawberries, and the juice of themilk-weed was not whiter than her teeth. Her form was lith as thewillow, her eyes sparkled like the morning star, her step was that ofa bounding fawn, and her fingers were skilful in weaving the quills ofthe porcupine. What wonder if hearts both young and old beat quickerat her approach?

Many, it may well be supposed, were the offers of marriage made to thebeautiful Leelinau. Innumerable were the legs of venison, andchoice pieces of bear's meat, which the mothers of the young hunterspresented for acceptance at her lodge, being careful to mention whoseskill in the chase procured them, but in vain did they look for thebowl of succatash or embroidered moccasins--the products of woman'slabor--in token that their gifts were pleasing to the coy beauty. In vain, when the shades of evening fell, the softly breathed flutelamented in melancholy tones her cruelty. In vain, with tastefulhand, the sighing lover painted his face and person to heighten hisattractions and draw attention. The insensible Leelinau relished notthe venison or bear's meat, nor would she listen to the flute, or lookoften at the painted suitors. 

Among her admirers none was more deeply smitten by the power of hercharms nor cherished a truer love than Magisaunikwa or Wampum-hair, so called from the gentleness of his disposition and love of peace. He was only a few years the senior of the maiden, and of an obscurefamily compared with that of the famous Aishkwagon-ai-bee. But lovelevels all distinctions, and, impelled by an influence he could notwithstand, he dared to aspire to the hand of Leelinau. Besides, therewas one superiority he enjoyed which made the claim less presumptuous. Young as he was no hunter of the tribe could be compared with him inskill or daring. Other lodges might be destitute, but there was alwaysabundance of meat in that of Magisaunikwa and those of his friends. Happy, thought most of the girls, would she be who should lie in thebosom of the young hunter, and cook his food. 

But notwithstanding his devotion, Leelinau would not accept his gifts. Still he fancied he had made some impression. She would listen tohis conversation by the light of the evening star, though whenever hehinted at his passion, she would hastily retire; and twice orthrice he had caught her eyes fixed on him, when she thought herselfunobserved. Hope lives on scanty aliment, and the young man did notdespair. 

Aishkwagon-ai-bee had noticed the liking of Magisaunikwa for hisdaughter, and was not displeased. The noble youth had found favor inhis eyes, and he did not disdain his alliance. There was only a singlecause of hesitation in his mind. Wampum-hair had never been on awar-path, and had always shown a disinclination to shed human blood. Yet his courage was undoubted. None encountered with more audacity thepanther and the bear, and several were the lives he had saved at thehazard of his own. A successful war expedition only was necessary tocomplete his claims to the highest honors. Save the bloody scalp, noornament was lacking in his wigwam. 

"Magisaunikwa, " said the Sachem, "the fire of your eyes melts not thesnow around the heart of Leelinau, and it is because she looks uponyour hands and sees they were never painted with the blood of anenemy. "

"Can Leelinau be happier. " asked the young hunter, "because another ismade miserable? Were I to kill a warrior for her sake, would not herdreams be disturbed by the groans of his mother?"

The eyes of the Sachem flashed when he heard such language. 

"Go, " he said, "if thou art a dove, seek not to mate with the hawk. "

But the resolution of Wampum-hair was not to be shaken by threats orreproaches, nor weakened by the seductions of love. In the long andfinal fast which revealed to him his guardian spirit, twelve dayswith unshaken fortitude, to the wonder of the tribe, had he remainedwithout food before the vision came. He then beheld a child white asthe water-lily leading a little animal unknown to the country. It wasthe size of the beaver, and covered all over with long white hairthat curled closely to its body. Its eyes were mild and sweet, and theexpression of its face gentler than anything ever seen on earth. The child laid his hand on the heart of the fainting youth, and aninfluence soft as the breath of the south wind streamed through hisframe, and he was strengthened, and stood upon his feet and partookof food. Since then the war-song had been hateful to the ears ofWampum-hair, and he loathed the vauntings of the braves. He preachedpeace to his people, and endeavored to convince them of the folly ofkilling their fellow men. But prejudices old as the mountains were notto be removed by the exhortations or arguments of an obscure youth;and although the old men listened, and some few approved, yet theyoung men scoffed and burned to distinguish themselves after themanner of their ancestors. It was fortunate for the young man thatopportunities had occurred to test his courage, and that he had neverhesitated when others flinched. His tribe therefore ascribed hisconduct to no want of bravery, but to a delusion sent by his guardiangenius. Hence, though his influence was impaired, it was not entirelydestroyed. 

Thus things continued for some time, till one day the Sachem againaddressed Wampum-hair. 

"Does the heart of Magisaunikwa still beat softly, like the heart of adeer!"

"It beats like a man's, " said the young hunter, "and not like that ofa vile wild beast. The Indian should imitate the Good Spirit in hisactions, and not destroy his brothers and sisters"

"Yes, " said the Sachem, "his heart is a man's, though it is soft. DoesWampum-hair still love Leelinau?"

"The breath of Thequan is not more welcome to the wood-flower which itwakes up to life, or the song of the bird dearer to its mate, than thesight of Leelinau to Magisaunikwa. "

"What would Wampum-hair do to obtain her love?"

"He would climb the sky, or dive to the bottom of the salt lake; allthat the Great Spirit could ask would he do. "

"A chief cannot compel the affection of his daughter, but he cangive his own consent, and the young bird listens to the voice of itsparent. "

"Let the great chief say what he would have, and the arm ofWampum-hair shall be strong to do his will. For the sake of Leelinauhe would please her father. "

The Sachem paused, and gazed with pleasure on the kindling featuresof the young man. He was a wise chief, and desired the good of hispeople. In those days the panthers, driven from the north by a severewinter, infested the country in great numbers, and threatened todestroy the game, on which the Indians depended for subsistence. Although many had been killed, there still remained enough to ravagethe land and do serious injury; and they had become so cunning bybeing frequently hunted that they almost uniformly succeeded ineluding the chase. It would be a public service, though a difficultundertaking, to exterminate the ravenous animals. He therefore said:--

"Let Magisaunikwa bring me a conaus made of the scalps of panthers, and another for Leelinau, and he shall have the strong word of a chiefto whisper commendations of the hunter in the ears of the maiden. "

"It is well. The words of the great chief are pleasant, and my earsdrink them up as the thirsty sand the drops of rain. The feet ofWampum-hair are swift; his arrows are true, and they shall pierce thescreaming panther. "

That same day, so eager was the young hunter to commence the chase, hestarted for those parts of the forest where the game was most likelyto be found. Many were the beasts destroyed by him, so that a littlechild might wander in security ten days' journey, in every direction, from the lodge of the Sachem, and narrow were the escapes from deathof the intrepid hunter, and yet scarcely scalps enough were obtainedto make a conaus or wrapper for the sloping shoulders of Leelinau. Invain, the enamored youth extended his hunt still further, even twentydays' journey from his starting point. Only at long intervals was abeast discovered, but, finally, not one was to be found, and the youthawoke to the conviction that he had been made a dupe to the cunning ofthe Sachem. 

After a fruitless chase he was musing one day sorrowfully over hisdisappointed hopes, ashamed to go back to his village, to which hehad never returned without success before, when, suddenly, a man ofmajestic presence stood before him. His nose was like the beak of aneagle, and his eyes resembled fires in a dark night. Strange feathers, of brilliant colors, were woven into his scalp-lock; a magnificentrobe of skins depended from his shoulders; and in his hand he held along spear, tipped with a pointed stone. 

"My brother is sad, " he said. "Let my brother give me the half of hisgrief to bear. "

Thus exhorted, Magisaunikwa disclosed the cause of his dejection tohis sympathizing friend. 

"Is that all?" said the stranger. "Return, and thou shalt find theconaus in thy lodge, and when thou beholdest them, remember they arethe gift of Manabozho. I am Manabozho. "

He spoke, and before the astonished hunter had time to thank him, vanished from his sight. Then the young man knew that he had conversedwith the capricious Manito, and with full faith and light heart, hedirected his steps homeward. 

He found the two conaus in his wigwam, according to the promise of theManito. One he presented to the chief, and the other he offered to themaiden, but she refused to accept the tribute of his devotion. 

The astonishment of Aishkwagon-ai-bee, and of the whole tribe, is notto be conceived, and the fame of Wampum-hair mounted to the stars. Thetruthful chief spoke earnestly to his daughter, of the merits ofher lover, and proposed him for her husband, but Leelinau showed thestrongest aversion to the union. The haughty maiden inherited thefierce temper of her father, without his wisdom, and she looked withcontempt on all not distinguished by high descent or bloody deeds, nor in her soaring pride was there one of the young men of the tribeworthy of her hand. Not that there were not youthful warriors whocould point to the evidences of their prowess, and whose names werefamiliar to the song, but in every instance the difficult beauty hadfound some objection, and turned away her head. The truth is, the westwind, that entices the flowers from the ground in spring, and leadsthe bird to its mate, had never breathed upon the heart of Leelinau. 

But the time finally came when the maiden was constrained to make achoice. Her family had become impatient of delay, and Leelinau yieldedto their remonstrances. It was only in appearance, however, that sheacquiesced in the wishes of her relatives. She determined to propose, as the price of her hand, some enterprise too difficult to beaccomplished. She represented to her father that lightly won, waslightly prized, and that the daughter of a great chief like him, wasnot to be wooed like other maidens, and obtained from him, to whom hervoice was sweeter than the notes of the mocking-bird, his consent toher scheme. 

The conditions on which Leelinau consented to follow a husband to hislodge were soon known. Only him would she acknowledge for her lord, who should guide his canoe in safety from the head of the Falls ofthe Yaupáae to the little islands below. The old men shook their headswhen they heard the terms, and the squaws said, her heart must be madeof stone, but the young men felt warm, and thought of trying theirfortunes. 

The enterprise was more difficult than any Manabozho had undertaken. When the river was low, it poured almost perpendicularly down, aheight of twenty feet, on rocks, thrusting sharp points into the air, then bounded in sinuous windings through rifts and basins, made by theconstant beating of the water, and the attrition of stones, whirledround in the cavities, to dash over a declivity of yet other rocks, before it reached its calm welcome below. When swollen by rains therocks were all hidden, the perpendicular fall disappeared, it was asif the Great Salt Lake were pouring down the side of the mountain, and from top to bottom was all one vast mass of foam, lashing thehuge rock at the throat, around which the torrent turned with a suddenbend. No canoe could live on such a cataract. It must be overturnedand engulfed long before reaching the bottom, or if those perils were, by any wonderful chance, escaped, inevitable destruction awaited thepresumptuous adventurer, dashed against the rock at the bottom. 

The lovers of Leelinau gazed at the Fall, but the more they consideredthe less inclination they felt to encounter the danger. In a low stageof the water the canoe would be overturned, and pierced by the sharprocks, while mangled limbs certainly, if not death, must be the doomof the rash aspirant, and who would dare to brave the terrors of theswollen river?

The eyes of Leelinau were bright, and her smile sweet, but there wereother maidens with bright eyes and sweet smiles, and less difficult toplease. 

But not thus felt Magisaunikwa. The absorbing passion swallowed upall considerations of prudence, and he resolved to undertake theadventure. If he perished, the Great Spirit would be pleased with hiscourage, and what was life without Leelinau? While thoughts like thesepassed through his mind, he remembered Manabozho. He had assisted himonce, although in vain, why not a second time? He sought once morethe recesses of the forest, where he had met him, and called upon hisname, but no answer was returned. He kindled a fire and threw uponit the fragrant tobacco, and called again, "Ho! Manabozho!" and themajestic figure stood before him, but there was anger on his brow. Tohis stern demand the hunter made known what had happened, and beggedhis assistance. But the Manito showed no disposition to grant it. Infact, the task was beyond his powers, but he was unwilling that itshould be known. 

"Fool!" he said, "is a scornful squaw worth the hazard of death andthe shame that attends defeat? Seek thy lodge and blow away thesethoughts as the wind disperses the winged seeds of the stingingnettle. " It was evident Manabozho had never been in love, for then hewould not have thrown away his advice. He stayed not for a reply, butwith a gesture of disdain disappeared. 

Wampum-hair sought his wigwam, melancholy but not discouraged. Itwas, indeed, impossible to follow the counsel of the friendly Manito. Sleeping or waking the image of Leelinau swam before his eyes, andsometimes smiled as if to incite him to the enterprise. 

He resolved to undertake a solemn fast. He therefore sought a retiredplace and built a pointed lodge. 

Six days and nights he fasted, lying on the ground, and on the seventhday, at the rising of the sun, his guardian spirit, the child withthe white beaver, slowly descended from the sky. His face was kind andgentle as at the first, but not as before did he lay his hand on theheart of Wampum-hair. Now he pressed his palm upon the forehead of thehunter, and strange thoughts and determinations, like rising storms, passed through his mind: slowly, then, up through the pointed roof, which opened for his passage, mounted the child till he disappeared inthe blue field. 

Magisaunikwa arose from the ground, and a frown was upon his brow. Heate and was refreshed, and returned to his lodge. 

It was the last month of snows, and great rains had fallen, and thetorrents were shouting from the mountains, and the Yaupáae pouring outa mightier flood than had ever been seen rushing through betweenthe cleft rocks. It was then Wampum-hair announced his intention toundertake the adventure of the Falls, and invited the tribe to gathertogether to witness its performance. It is said that the heart ofLeelinau, touched by so much constancy, was inclined to relent andexcuse her lover the terrible ordeal, but this is probably the dreamof some soft-hearted girl, and only indicates what she would have donein like circumstances. 

On the day selected, the tribe was collected at the outpouring of thewaters, to witness the achievement of Magisaunikwa, and lament hisdeath. In great numbers they lined the banks of the stream, seekingthose positions from which the best views could be obtained, while hisfriends watched at the foot of the cataract in canoes to rescue thebody should it be thrown up by the raging water. Leelinau, too, wasthere, unyielding, yet proud of a devotion unheard of in the annalsof her nation. She looked haughtily as on a spectacle devised in herhonor, of which she should be celebrated as the heroine, long afterher feet should have travelled the path that leads to the Spirit-land. No regret for the destruction to which her lover was doomed appearedto touch her heart, nor did pity moisten her eyes as she looked uponthe preparations for the sacrifice. 

At length Magisaunikwa appeared, and never before had he attractedsuch admiration. He moved like one returning from victory. No warpaint, such as warriors are accustomed to use when upon the war-pathin order to strike terror into the foe, or when commencing anenterprise of great peril, stained his person. His dress was theconaus of panther scalps, and he walked amid a company of young men ofhis own age, above the tallest of whom he rose by a head. 

Before commencing the adventure, he performed the customary ceremonyto propitiate the Great Spirit, pointing to the heavens, the earth, and the four winds, and invoking with a loud voice the Master of Lifeto smile upon the undertaking. This being done, he cast his eyes overthe assembled crowd, till they fell upon Leelinau. Long he gazed, as if he desired to carry her image with him to the Spirit-land, norafter that last look did he allow his glance to rest upon anotherhuman being. Then, at a little distance above the head of thecataract, he entered the canoe and grasped the paddle. 

The motion of the frail bark was at first gentle, but only for a shorttime: every moment its speed became accelerated, until, even before itreached the plunge, it seemed to fly like the swallow. Calmly guidingits fearful course sat the young man, his eyes fixed upon the narrowopening between the rocks. And now the canoe is at the brink of theFalls--it leaps like the salmon when he journeys up the stream--it isgone!--the raging waters have devoured it--no, I see it again--the armof Magisaunikwa is strong, and the paddle unbroken. Help, Manito! heis dashed against the rock at the throat--no, the canoe is whirledround and darts away, and I behold it gliding with the youth over thequiet water. The Great Spirit hath protected him. 

A shout, rivalling the roar of the Falls, went up from the assembledmultitude, and they rose with songs such as welcome returned warriorsto greet the successful hero. 

But Wampum-hair received their congratulations and their praises withindifference. With eyes fixed on the ground, he suffered himself to beborne in triumph to the spot, where, on a platform of rock, stood thebeautiful Leelinau. What were the thoughts that passed through hermind? Was she proud of being the object of a love so true and daring, or did she lament the necessity of accepting a lord? Wampum-hairapproached, and before his calm, sorrowing eyes, her own sunk to theground. Searching was his look, as if to descry the secrets of hersoul, and at last he spoke. 

"Leelinau, " he said, "the Great Spirit created thee loveliest amongthe daughters of women; wherefore gave he thee not a heart?

"Leelinau, Wampum-hair will sigh no more for thee. Henceforth, thouart to him only a flower or a painted bird. 

"Leelinau, the waters of the Yaupáae have extinguished the fire thatburned here, " and he laid his hand on his heart. He turned upon hisheel and left the assemblage. 

Astonishment at the address of Magisaunikwa at first held all mute, but presently a cry for revenge arose among the kinsmen ofthe slighted maiden. But the commanding voice of the wiseAishkwagon-ai-bee stilled the tumult. 

"The blood of the mighty Ojeeg, " he said, "cannot mingle with water. The Great Spirit hath taken this way to release Leelinau from apromise which He is displeased that she made. "

Whatever might have been the vindictive feelings of the relations ofLeelinau, their resentment was never visited on the head of the younghunter. Once, it is said, two brothers of the rejected maiden lay inambush to take his life; but as he passed unconsciously near them, andthe fatal arrows were drawn to the head against his bosom, Manabozhoappeared and forbade the deed. 

Magisaunikwa continued to cherish through a long life his love ofpeace. He obtained a great influence over his own and the neighboringtribes, and succeeded in spreading widely his pacific views. At thetime of his death, which happened at an advanced age, the calumetof peace was everywhere smoked among the northern tribes, and theirnumbers had greatly increased. Wampum-hair was universally honored, and regarded as the cause of this felicity. But no wife ever cookedthe venison in his lodge. With the dream of his youth vanished allpredilection for the softer sex. He had loved and been disappointed. Where he expected to meet gentleness he had found pride. He looked forthe yielding willow, and behold the inflexible oak!

But in Leelinau also a revolution had been effected. Her whole beingwas transformed. What devoted love that anticipated every wish wasincapable of accomplishing, indifference achieved. Her soul from thatmoment flew on the wings of desire after Magisaunikwa. At first shethought his conduct caused by some temporary pique or resentment, andtrusted to the power of her fascinations to restore him to hernets. As time, however, wore on, her hopes became fainter, until theterrible conviction settled like a night upon her soul, that she hadtrifled with the noblest heart of her nation and driven it for everaway. Then it was she felt the desolation no language can express. Asettled melancholy took possession of her. Her eyes lost their fire, her lip its smile, and her voice the song. She would wander alone, far away into the recesses of the forest, speaking to herself inlow tones, and weeping at the remembrance of happy days. Her healthdeclined rapidly until she became too weak to leave without assistancethe couch, where day after day reclined her fading form. One softsummer morning she begged two of her mates to support her to therock, whence she beheld the exploit of Wampum-hair. She sank down, andremoving, with her wasted hand, the long hair that had fallen overher eyes, gazed sadly on the foaming river. With a wistful look shefollowed the course of the cataract from top to bottom, probablyrecalling at the moment her lover's danger for her sake and her ownrepented scorn, then heavily sighed, and leaning her head on the bosomof one of her companions, expired. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

 Wide o'er the brim with many a torrent swelled, And the mixed ruin of its banks o'erspread, At last the roused up river pours along: Resistless, roaring, dreadful, down it comes From the rude mountain and the mossy wild. 

 THOMSON'S SEASONS. 

The company expressed their acknowledgments to Bernard for theentertainment he had furnished, although they all seemed to considerthe conduct of Wampum-hair inconsistent with his amiable character, and to pity the fate of Leelinau. 

"The writer must have had some suspicion of the inconsistencyhimself, " said Bernard, "to judge from his attempt to obviatethe difficulty, by ascribing a magic change in his hero, to theapplication of the child's hand to the head, instead of as before, to the heart. This part of the tale is slightly and unskillfullydeveloped. "

"I cannot agree with you, " said Faith, "and think you do yourfriend injustice. The idea is, that the guardian genius exercised acontrolling influence over the destiny of the young man; and I see noreason why if we concede the power to the genius to soften his nature, we may not grant also the ability to harden it. "

"Especially, " observed Pownal, "as the object of the protecting spiritwould have been frustrated, had the lovers been united. "

All looked inquiringly towards him for an explanation. 

"I mean, " said he, "that with such a fierce little squaw for a wife, the gentleman with the unpronounceable name, would not have continueda man of peace long. There certainly would have been war within thewigwam, however dense the puffs of smoke from the calumet of peaceoutside. "

All laughed at the sally, but Anne intimated that she would havepreferred a different termination. 

"At least, " said Mr. Armstrong, who had listened in silence to thecriticisms of the young people, "it teaches a profitable lesson to yougirls. "

"What is that, Mr. Armstrong?" inquired Anne. 

"That young ladies should know their own minds. "

"A most unreasonable expectation!" exclaimed Anne. "We should becomeas stupid--as stupid as reasonable people. "

"Besides, " said Faith, coming to her friend's assistance, "the storywas intended for the benefit of Indian girls, and not for those whoread Shakspeare. "

"I suspect, " said Bernard, "that the writer was better acquainted withthe Shakspearean ladies, than with Indian girls. "

"Why do you think so?" asked Faith. 

"Do you not observe, " answered Bernard, "that he confines himself togeneralities? Not a word does he venture to say about the toilette ofthe beauty. A description of the dress of the heroine, has always beenconsidered indispensable in every tale. "

"Poh, William!" said Anne, "what a savage critic you are. But, probably, there was so little to describe, the author did not think itworth his while. "

"And, " said Pownal, "is anything admissible in a picture whichdistracts the attention and withdraws it from the principal figure?Good taste excludes ear-rings and gold chains from portraits. "

"Well, " said Bernard, "I dare say you are right. It may be, too, thatthe dress was indescribable. "

"Who is this Manabozho, who comes in so opportunely, yet, withouteffecting much after all?" inquired Anne. "I am charmed with hisappearance; particularly, his big eyes. "

"He is a sort of Indian Hercules, " replied Bernard, "who plays aconspicuous part in many legends. He is a compound of wisdom andfolly, of benevolence and mischief, of strength and weakness, partlyManitou and partly man, and is privileged to do anything, howeverabsurd and impossible, at one moment, while, at the next, he may beshorn of his power, so as to be incapable of taking care of himself. "

"A very convenient person indeed, " said Anne. 

"Loosing the knot of a difficulty by the intervention of such a Power, shows but little ingenuity, I confess, " said Bernard. 

"There is classical authority for it, though, " said Mr. Armstrong. "Homer, himself, condescends to introduce a God, when he cannotextricate himself from embarrassment without his help. "

"Aye, " said Bernard, "but the rule of Horace must not be forgotten, nec Deus, " &c. 

"True, " said Mr. Armstrong; "but how would you have accomplished thefeat, like one of the labors of Hercules, without some such means?"

"I do not pretend to be able to do it, " answered Bernard, modestly;"but, doubtless, one possessed of more imagination could haveaccomplished it. "

"You are but a cold advocate for your friend, " said Faith. "You do notallow him half the merit he deserves"

"He would not complain were he to hear me, " said Bernard. "No one canbe more sensible than himself, of the defects of his work. "

"And I say, " said Anne, "that I like his story exceedingly; only, he knows nothing about our sex. It may be all very well for a man topraise that hard-hearted Wampum-head, and make poor Leelinau pine awayfor his precious sake, but, I do not believe she was so silly as tocare much about him. "

"If the truth were known, " said Pownal, "I have no doubt that the girlrejected him, because she liked some one else better. "

"And her ungallant beau, " said Anne, "made up the story, to cover hisconfusion. "

"I am satisfied with it as it is, " said Faith. "We pity and loveLeelinau, now; her haughtiness and pride are forgotten in hermisfortunes, and we remember her as one faithful unto death. "

"Your tale reminds me, " said Pownal, addressing Bernard, "that thereis a tremendous freshet in the Wootúppocut, and that the waters areincreasing. Suppose, if the ladies consent, we make up a party, toview it, to-morrow?"

The proposition was received with approbation by all, and it wasagreed, that they would meet at the house of Mr. Armstrong, as thestarting-point, on the afternoon of the next day. The evening beingnow considerably advanced, Faith's friends took their leave. 

The nine o'clock bell was ringing, as the young people passed throughthe quiet streets. The custom of ringing a bell, at that hour, is onewhich has fallen into desuetude, although, once, almost universal inNew England, and may be said to bear some relation to the vesper-bell, in Roman Catholic countries. Its avowed object, indeed, was not, asin the case of the latter, to call the people to prayers, but, itseffect, perhaps, was the same; for, it marked the hour at which thepopulation of the village were in the habit of retiring to rest; and, in those days of simple faith, many were the families whose membersunited together, before seeking their pillows, to return thanksfor the blessings of the day, and ask for protection during thedefenceless hours of the night. Luxury and dissipation have sincecrept in, and parties assemble, now, at an hour when they formerlybroke up. We call ourselves more refined, but, it may admit of adoubt, whether all our show and parade are not purchased at too dear arate, at the price of substantial comfort and happiness. 

The shore was lined with spectators, when the little party approachedthe scene of the freshet. We do not know that we have succeeded inconveying a clear idea of the river we have attempted to describe. Itmay be recollected, that it was spoken of as one of the tributaries ofthe Severn, coming in from the East, and sweeping round that side ofthe town. The banks, on the side opposite, were high and precipitous;but, on the hither side--with the exception of the narrow passagethrough which the river poured itself into the Severn, and for ashort distance above--the ground rose gently from the stream beforeit reached the foot of the hill, interposing a piece of comparativelylevel land. The road that ran on this flat spot, and connected theeastern portion (which, from the extempore character of its buildings, as well as from other causes we do not choose to mention, was calledHasty-Pudding), with the rest of the town, was, usually, in very highfloods, overflowed. Such was the fact in the present instance, andboats were busily engaged in transporting persons over the submergedroad. As you stood near the mouth of the river, and looked up thecurrent, a scene of considerable interest, and, even grandeur, presented itself. At that time, the innumerable dams higher up thestream, that have been since constructed, had not been built, nor hadthe rocks, at the throat, been blasted to make a wider egress. Theice, which then rushed down, as it were by agreement, simultaneouslyand in huge blocks--but, now-a-days, at intervals, and broken up byfalling over the dams--unable to escape in the eager rivalry of thecakes to pass each other, was jammed in the throat, and piled up highin the air, looking like ice-bergs that had floated from the NorthPole. You saw the stream, at all times, rapid, and now, swollen vastlybeyond its ordinary proportions, rushing with ten-fold force, andhurrying, in its channel, with hoarse sounds, the ice-cakes, which, inthe emulous race, grated against, and, sometimes, mutually destroyedone another, to drive some under the icy barrier, thence to glide awayto the ocean, and to toss others high above the foaming torrent on thecollected masses, more gradually to find their way to the same bourne. Looking away from the channel, one saw the cakes caught in the eddies, whirled up against the banks, and, in some instances, forced intosmoother and shoaler water, where they grounded, or were floated intolittle creeks and bays formed by the irregularities of the shores. These quiet places were, of course, on the side nearest the town, theopposite bank being too abrupt and the water too deep, for therewas the channel, and there the water tore along with the greatestviolence. 

In one of these placid bays a party of school-boys were amusingthemselves with getting upon the loose blocks and pushing them aboutlike boats. The amusement appeared to be unattended with danger, theplace being so far from the current, and the water but two orthree feet deep. The children, therefore, were but little noticed, especially as they were at quite a distance from where the multitudeof spectators was assembled, being considerably higher up and near theflat-land, bearing the undignified name which only historical accuracycompels us to introduce. After a time a cake, on which one of the boyswas standing, began slowly to slip away from the shore. So graduallywas this done that it was unobserved by the boys themselves until ithad quite separated itself from the neighborhood of the other cakes, so that no assistance could be rendered, when one of his companionscried out to the little fellow upon it, to push for the shore. Thishe had already been attempting to do, but in spite of all exertionshe was unable to come nearer. On the contrary, it was evident he wasreceding. The water had now become so deep that his pole could nolonger reach the bottom. The current had drawn in the cake, and wassweeping it with its precious freight to destruction. The children setup a cry of alarm, which was heard by the spectators below, and firstattracted their attention. 

A thrill of horror ran through the crowd. Men drew in their breathhard, and women shrieked, unable to turn away their eyes, fastened bya terrible fascination on the peril. Horrid apprehensions invaded themind of many a parent. The doomed boy might be his own son. Despairingglances were cast around in every direction for help. In vain: nonecould be given. There was time for nothing: with every second thechild was swept more rapidly to destruction. 

Meanwhile the brave little fellow, planted firmly on the centre of thecake, was balancing himself with the pole, and intrepidly confrontingthe danger he could not avoid. Not a cry escaped, nor did hisself-possession desert him. As the vexed and whirling water raised upthe one side or the other of his frail bark, he would incline his bodyin this or that direction to preserve the equilibrium, now standingupright and now cowering close to the surface of the uncertainfooting. And now the block approached the throat, where the torrentran the swiftest and was most turbulent. The child seemed to haveescaped thus far by miracle, but now it appeared impossible he wouldbe able to maintain his place. His head must become dizzy, his couragefail in the awful confusion of so many threatening dangers; thetormented waves must upset the block, or another must strike againstit and cast the boy into the water. And now the cake has reached theicy barrier stretched across the stream. It strikes; it is sucked inbelow and disappears. 

The spell-bound spectators, their eyes fastened upon the danger of theboy, had not noticed the figure of a man, who, descending the oppositebank, and clambering at considerable risk over the masses of heapedup ice, stood waiting for the approach of the child. So truly had hejudged the sweep of the current, that he had planted himself upon theedge of the ice at the precise spot where the block struck. Reachingout his arm at the moment when it slipped beneath, he seized the boyby the collar of his jacket and drew him to the place on which hestood. As soon as the crowd caught sight of the man, they saw that itwas Holden. 

The position of the two was still one of danger. A false step, theseparating of the ice, the yielding of a cake might precipitate bothinto the torrent. But the heart of the man had never felt the emotionof fear. He cast his eyes deliberately round, and with a promptdecision took his course. Raising the rescued child in his arms, hestarted in the direction of the wharf, built just below the narrowopening. Springing with great agility and strength over the blocks, selecting for footing those cakes which seemed thickest and fastenedin firmest, he made his way over the barrier and bounded safely onthe land. The spectators, seeing the direction he was taking, had rundown, many of them, to the place, and were waiting to receive them. 

"I vow, " said our friend, Tom Gladding, who was among the first towelcome Holden, "if it ain't little Jim Davenport. Why, Jim, you comepretty nigh gitting a ducking. "

"Yes, " said the boy, carelessly, as if he had been engaged in afrolic, "I wet my shoes some, and the lower part of my trousers. "

Here a man came hastening through the crowd, for whom all made way. Itwas Mr. Davenport. He had been, like the rest, a witness of the dangerand the rescue, but knew not that it was his own son who had made theperilous passage. But a report, running as if by magic from one toanother, had reached his ears, and he was now hurrying to discoverits truth. It was, indeed, his son, and Holden was his preserver. He advanced to the boy, and examined him from head to foot, as ifto assure himself of his safety before he spoke a word. Shaking withagitation, he then turned to Holden, and grasping his hand, wrung itconvulsively. 

"May God forget me, Mr. Holden, " he stammered, in a broken voice, "if I forget this service, " and taking the boy by the hand he led himhome. 

"Well, " said Gladding, who had been looking on, "Jim don't mind itmuch, but I guess it'll do old Davenport good. "

Holden, according to his custom, seemed indisposed to enter intoconversation with those around him, or to accept the civilitiestendered, and started off as soon as possible, upon his solitary way. As he emerged from the crowd, he caught sight of the advancing figuresof Faith and of her companions, who had more leisurely approached, andstopped to greet them. From them he seemed to receive with pleasurethe congratulations showered upon him, though he disclaimed all meritfor himself. 

"Be the praise, " he said, devoutly, "given to Him who, according tothe purpose of his own will, maketh and destroyeth. The insensibleblock of ice and I were only instruments in His hands. " He turnedaway, and walking rapidly was soon out of sight. 

Constable Basset, who was present, had just sense enough to understandthat this was no occasion for his interference, and although hefollowed the retreating figure of the Solitary with longing eyes, while his hands clutched at the writ, ventured on no attempt toexercise his authority. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

 We talk of love and pleasure--but 'tis all A tale of falsehood. Life's made up of gloom: The fairest scenes are clad in ruin's pall, The loveliest pathway leads but to the tomb. 

 PERCIVAL. 

After the event just recorded, it may well be supposed that allfurther legal proceedings against the Recluse were abandoned. Theyhad been commenced only to gratify the wounded pride of Davenport, andsince the preservation of the life of his son by Holden, the communitywould have cried shame on him had the matter been pursued further. Butno such public sentiment was needed in order to induce Davenport togive the justice and Basset a hint to do nothing more. He was reallygrateful, though feeling no compunction for his conduct, easilypersuading himself that it had been prompted by a love of justice, anda desire to protect the interests of religion. 

Holden could, therefore, without fear of the consequences, resumeopenly his usual visits to the village. Of late they had been morethan usually frequent at the house of Mr. Armstrong, by whom he seemedalmost as much attracted as by Faith. With the former the conversationusually turned upon points of theology that every day appeared toassume with Armstrong deeper importance, with the latter on theeffects produced by the teachings of Holden among the Indians. Forsince his exile at the Patmos of the Indian village, a new subject hadengaged the attention of the Solitary, to which with characteristicenergy he had devoted the powers of his soul--the conversion ofthe poor wretches who had kindly harbored and protected him. Tohis sanguine expectations, expressed in the impassioned language ofScripture he loved to use, the enthusiastic girl would listen, with the warmest interest. Accustomed to assign every event to anoverruling Providence, she thought she now saw clearly the hand of asuperior Power in the occurrences which had compelled Holden, inthe first instance, to take up his temporary residence among them. Temporary residence, we say, because the Solitary had since returnedto his hut, which was at the distance of only two or three miles fromthe cabins of his former protectors. Solitude he found was necessaryin order to enable him the better to perform his new duties, and thedistance was too slight to interpose any serious obstacle, or eveninconvenience. 

Such was the state of things, when some weeks after the freshet, Mr. Armstrong acquainted his daughter, at the breakfast-table, with hisintention to visit Holden that day. 

"It is a long time, " he said (four days had elapsed), "since we haveseen him, and there are things upon my mind I would gladly speakabout. "

A few months before, such a declaration from her father would havesuprised Faith, but now she regarded it as quite natural. The intimacybetween the family and the Recluse had become such, and the commandingcharacter of the latter had acquired so great an influence overboth its members, that neither of them saw anything strange in thedeference paid him. She, therefore, acquiesced with some common-placeremark in the proposal, begging to be remembered to the old man. 

Accordingly, after breakfast, Mr. Armstrong walked down to the wharf, thinking it probable he might find some boat going down the river, bywhich he might be left at the island, intending, should he notfind the Solitary there, to go to the Indian settlement. Nor was hedisappointed. He found a fisherman making preparations to cast offhis boat, who cheerfully consented to convey him to the place ofdestination. Mr. Armstrong jumped into the boat, and, the windfavoring, they rapidly scudded down the stream. 

The fisherman, a fine, frank fellow, of some thirty years of age, towhom Mr. Armstrong was well known, at least, by reputation, although the recognition was not mutual, endeavored to engage himin conversation, but without effect. Although answering politely anyquestions, he made no remarks in return, and the conversation soonlanguished for want of material to support it. Poor Josiah Sill, finding his social qualities not appreciated, soon himself relapsedinto silence, wondering what could induce his companion to seekHolden, and connecting his reserve in some mysterious way with thevisit. Finding the silence not altogether agreeable, Josiah finallyburst out with "Yankee Doodle, " which he amused himself with whistlingtogether with some other favorite tunes, until they reached theisland. As they approached they caught a glimpse of Holden enteringthe house, and Josiah landed his passenger, promising to call for himon his return in the afternoon, though Armstrong expressed a doubtwhether he should remain so long. 

"If you ain't here, there won't be no harm done, " said thegood-natured fellow, "and it won't take a minute to stop. "

Mr. Armstrong having thanked him and wished him success, advanced tothe cabin. 

He found Holden in the outer room, engaged in his usual employment, when at home, of weaving baskets. A large quantity of preparedsaplings, split very thin, lay scattered around him, while bundles ofwalnut poles, the crude material of his manufacture, were piled upin the corners ready for use. With a quick and dexterous hand theSolitary wove in the ribbon-like pieces, showing great familiaritywith the work. Without desisting from his labor, he expressed pleasureat the visit of his friend, and requested him to be seated. 

"I am honored, " he said, "this day. To what shall I ascribe the noticeof the wealthy Mr. Armstrong?"

There was a slight tone of irony in the words. It probably wasobserved by Mr. Armstrong, for, with some feeling, he replied:

"Speak to me not so coldly. And yet, " he added, dejectedly, "Ideserve that all the world should reject me. Neither the happy nor themiserable feel sympathy for me. "

The wayward humor of Holden was evidently softened by the sadness ofthe sweet, low voice. 

"Each heart, " he said, "knoweth best its own bitterness, and I repentme of my rudeness. But when I saw thee here I could not but rememberthat I had dwelt long years in this dwelling, and"--he hesitated, andArmstrong finished the sentence:

"And you would say this is the first time I have darkened your door. Well may it be called darkness where my unhappy shadow falls. Butforgive me: it is only lately that I learned to know you. "

"Thou errest, James Armstrong, " returned Holden, "if thou thinkestthou knowest me, or will ever know me. Yet, after all, " he added ina gentler manner, "thou art right. Yes, know me as a fellow sinner, journeying with thee to eternity. "

"As my friend, " replied Armstrong; "as the guide whose deeperexperience in heavenly things shall teach me the way to heaven, unlessby some inscrutable decree I am excluded. "

"How has my heart been open, how has it longed for years to meetthine! How gladly would I have poured out my grief into thy bosom asinto that of a brother!" cried Holden, his voice choked with emotion. 

The countenance of Mr. Armstrong betrayed astonishment. "How is this?"he said. "I never knew it. You have always been to me as a commonacquaintance. "

A shade fell on the face of Holden. He misunderstood the meaningof the other. He supposed the phrase applicable to the feelings ofArmstrong towards himself, and not as descriptive of his own conductto Armstrong. "For the sake of the little Faith, " he said coldly, "whois now a lovely woman, have I highly regarded thee. "

"It is even so, " said Armstrong, in a melancholy tone. "There are noneleft to love me for my own sake. Yet why should I quarrel with my owndaughter? Let me rather be grateful that she has been the means ofattracting one being towards me. How can I show my friendship? How canI make you my friend?"

"I _am_ thy friend, " cried Holden, grasping his hand with anotherrevulsion of feeling. "Put me to any proof. I will not fail. "

"If money could avail with a man like you, " continued Armstrong, "itshould not be wanting. If ease or luxury could tempt--but you havetrampled them under foot, and what are they to one whose conversationis in heaven?"

Holden, while he was speaking, had risen from his seat and strodetwice or thrice across the room. When Armstrong had finished speakinghe again approached him. 

"It is not for naught, " he exclaimed, "that the Lord hath conductedthee this day unto me. Speak what he shall put into thy mouth to say. "

"I would have your confidence, " said Armstrong. "As the sick beast orthe hurt bird knows by an infallible instinct what herb or plant willbest promote its cure, so it seems to me does Providence direct me toyou. Repulse me not, but be my kind physician. "

"How can the physician prescribe, if he knoweth not the complaint. "

"You shall know if you have patience to listen. But I must go backyears to make myself intelligible. "

"Speak, my brother, " said Holden, gently, "not a word shall fall invain. "

"Then listen, " said Armstrong, "and learn what sorrows the outwardshows of prosperity may gild. "

Holden resumed his seat, and Armstrong began his relation. 

"My parents, " he said, "had but two children, myself and my brother, who was younger by two years. The tenderest affection existed betweenus, and we were never separated until I went to college, where, aftera couple of years, I was joined by him, and where we remained togetheruntil the close of my collegiate course. I then returned home, inorder to take my place in the mercantile business, in which ourfather was engaged. My brother George was destined for one of theprofessions. During the last year of his stay at college, his lettersto me were full of the praises of a young lady whose acquaintance hehad made, and in vacations he was never weary of talking of her beautyand amiable qualities. I was present when he took his degree, and ata party, given during my stay, in the town, he introduced me toher. Alas! that introduction was the cause of the happiness and thewretchedness of my life. It found me a wife, and lost me a brother. Icannot describe the impression which the first sight of Frances madeupon me. Nor did she seem averse to my attentions. I offered myself, and was accepted. "

"And didst thou nothing to alienate her affections from thy brother?"inquired Holden, in a hoarse voice. 

"She never regarded him with more than a passing liking, " returnedArmstrong, "nor do I believe she had an idea of the fervor ofhis affection. God be my witness, I never spoke a word in hisdisparagement. We were married, and shortly after George began toexhibit indications of insanity. By the advice of physicians he wastaken to an asylum for the insane, where it was hoped, under propertreatment, his reason might be restored. May God pardon me, who am thecause of the horrid tragedy, but, by some negligence of his keeper, he was permitted to escape--his body was found, after some days, ina neighboring pond. " Here Armstrong paused and covered his face withboth hands. 

"The body was recognized as thy brother's?" inquired Holden. 

"It had been in the water too long to be perfectly recognized, butthe height, and age, and color of the hair, and what there was left tomake it distinguishable, were sufficient to identify it as George's. "

"There is no certainty then. Thy brother may be yet alive. "

"There can be no doubt of his death. Thirty years have elapsed, and were he in existence he must have been heard of. Twelve yearsafterwards my Frances died, leaving me two children, a son and infantdaughter. God saw fit, in his providence, to take my boy, but left meFaith, to lay my grey hairs in the grave. It will not be long beforeshe will do me that service. "

Mr. Armstrong ceased speaking, and silence succeeded, which was atlast broken by the Solitary. He bent his brows with a keen, searchingglance upon his guest, and said:

"Thou wert false to thy brother. "

"Yes, and his blood cries against me. Whither shall I turn to hide myguilt?"

"Thou dost repent, then, of thy treachery?" inquired Holden, whoseemed determined to probe the wound to the bottom. 

"Alas! restore to me the morning of life; place me in the samecircumstances, and I should fall again. I should be irresistiblyattracted by a heart that seemed made for mine. "

"In _her_ arms thou didst forget the brother, whom thy cruelty haddoomed to the maniac's cell and chain?" said Holden. 

"Never! his image is graven on my heart. I have never ceased to thinkof him. "

"Thou wouldst know him should he stand before thee?"

"Know him! aye, amidst ten thousand. No years could make such changesas to hide him from me. But he is in his grave, while his murdererlives. "

"Thou didst find compensation for lamentation over the dead, in thecaresses of the living?"

"True, too true. While Frances lived, she was my heaven. It wasnecessary that this idol should be torn from me. My son, too. Oh, James, my son! my son!"

Holden, during the conversation, had been unable to keep his seat, butwith the restlessness of his nature had been walking across the room, stopping occasionally before Armstrong. The last expression of feelingevidently affected him. The rapidity of his steps diminished; hismotions became less abrupt; and presently he laid his hand upon theshoulder of Mr. Armstrong. 

"Thy tale, " he said, "is one of sorrow and suffering. Thou didstviolate thy duty, and art punished. No wrong shall escape the avenger. As it is written, 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord. 'But it is also written, 'He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repenteth him of the evil. ' Thou art afterall but an instrument in the hand of One mighty to do. Even out ofcrime He works out the purposes of his will. Thou knowest not fromwhat sin and sorrow an early death may be the refuge. Commit thyselfto the hands of the Lord, nor grieve as one without hope. Thy brotherliveth, and thou shalt yet behold him. "

"I know he lives, and at the Judgment shall I behold him, " saidArmstrong, shuddering, "to upbraid me with his murder. "

"Not to upbraid, but to forgive, and to imprint upon thy brow the sealof reconciliation, as I now, by this token, vow to thee an everlastinglove. " So saying, Holden bent down, and his lips touched the foreheadof Armstrong. 

We do not know that we ought to be surprised at anything in theconduct of this extraordinary man. The principles by which heregulated himself, if he had any that were fixed and determinate, andwas not impelled to his actions by the impulse of the moment, were sodifferent from those of other men, that it is difficult to reduce themto the same standard, or, indeed, to assign them to any standard. Beit as it may, so accustomed was Mr. Armstrong to his ways, that sosingular a thing did not impress him as strange. He only looked upwith eyes dimmed with tears, and, in broken accents, thanked theSolitary. 

The rest of the time spent by Armstrong on the island, was passed inconversation of very much the same description. It would seem from hisself-reproaches and confessions, that during the lives of his wife andson, the melancholy death of his brother had made no great impressionupon him. Happy in a woman he adored, and who returned his affection;with a blooming family around him; immersed in thoughts of business;and in the enjoyment of a large fortune, there seemed nothing wantingto complete his felicity. He remembered, too, that there had been aninstance of insanity in his family, some years before the birth ofhimself, which had terminated fatally, the cause of which could notbe traced, and felt disposed, therefore, with the natural tendency toself-exculpation of the happy, to find the reason for the tragical endof his brother in hereditary infirmity, rather than attach any seriousblame to himself for securing the affections of a lady, whom hewas assured had never loved another. But when after a few years ofunclouded bliss, first his wife, and then his son, was taken away, allthings assumed an altered aspect. He found himself the last male ofhis family, his name about to become extinct and forgotten, with onlyone other being in the world in whose veins ran his blood, and forwhose life his paternal solicitude almost daily trembled. His mindbrooded day by day more and more over his misfortunes, which graduallybegan to wear the form of judgments, the object and result of whichmust be to erase his hated name from the earth. As Faith grew up, hisanxieties on her account diminished, but that only left him thewider scope to dwell upon wild imaginations and make himself more thesubject of his thoughts. Of a grave and reflective cast of mind, hehad even from his early years respected the duties of religion, andnow he turned to it for consolation. But the very sources whence heshould have derived comfort and peace were fountains of disquiet. Hisdiseased mind seemed incapable of appropriating to itself the gentlepromises of pardon and acceptance, but trembled at the denunciationsof punishment. The universal Father came not to him with open arms, as to welcome a returned prodigal, but frowned with the severity ofa Judge about to pronounce sentence. Whithersoever the unhappy manturned, he saw no ray of light to gild the darkness, and he himselfsometimes feared lest reason should desert her throne. But his friendsfelt no apprehensions of the kind. In their presence, though grave, he was always reasonable and on his guard--for he shrunk with thesensitiveness of a delicate mind from exposing its wounds--nor withthe exception of the minister, and now Holden, was there one whosuspected his condition, and they probably did not realize it fully. These remarks may serve to abate, if not to remove entirely thereader's surprise, that one with the education, and in the position ofArmstrong, should have sought counsel from Holden. But it may be, thatthe condition of mind to which Armstrong was approaching--similar insome respects to that of the Solitary--established a sort of relationor elective affinity between them, operating like the influence of themagnet, to attract one to the other. We have seen how fond Holdenwas of visiting the house of Mr. Armstrong. Could it be that thismysterious influence, all unconsciously to himself, led his stepsthither, and that afar off he dimly espied the talisman that shouldestablish a full community between them? Or was not this communityalready established? How else account for the visit of Armstrong, thestrange conversation, the confessions, concluded by an act, tender, and perhaps graceful, but only such as was to be expected from aderanged man?

Josiah Sill, true to his promise, arrived while the two men were stilltalking, heedless of the passage of time. Mr. Armstrong stepped onboard, and the boat resumed her course. The wind was drawing down theriver, remaining nearly in the same point from which it had blown inthe morning, and they were obliged in consequence to pursue a zig-zagcourse, tackling from one shore to the other. It blew fresh, and thelittle vessel, gunwale down, with the water sometimes pouring over thelee side, flew like a bird. They had run two-thirds of the distance, nor was the sun yet set, when the wind, which, till then, had blownpretty steadily, began to intermit and come in flaws or puffs, nowdriving the small craft with great rapidity, and now urging her gentlyon. At an instant, when she was about to tack, having hardly head-waysufficient to prevent missing stays, a sudden and violent puff, from agorge in the hills, struck the sail. Had it come at any other moment, the catastrophe that followed could not have happened; but the boatlying almost motionless, received all the force of the wind, andinstantly upset. Mr. Armstrong, unable to swim, and encumbered by hisclothes, sank, but was caught by the strong arm of Sill, and pulledupon the keel. In a state of great discomfort, though of safety, thereboth remained for some time, waiting for assistance. None arriving, Sill, at last, became impatient, and as he was an excellent swimmer, proposed to throw off the heavier part of his clothing, and swim toland to hasten succor. As Mr. Armstrong made no objection, and thedanger appeared less than what was likely to proceed from a longcontinuance on the boat, exposed in their wet clothes to the wind, theshore being but a few rods distant, Sill, after divesting himself of apart of his clothes, plunged into the water, and with vigorous strokesswam towards the land. He had proceeded but a short way when, eitherin consequence of becoming benumbed by the coldness of the water afterbeing chilled by exposure to the wind, or from being seized by cramp, or from what other cause, the unfortunate man suddenly turninghis face towards Armstrong, and uttering a cry of alarm, sank anddisappeared from sight. Once more only was anything seen of him, whenbrought near the surface, perhaps, by an eddy in the stream, a handemerged, and for an instant the fingers quivered in the air. 

With a sort of desperate horror Armstrong gazed upon the appallingspectacle. The expression of anguish on the face of the drowningfisherman, as his distended eyes met his own, froze his blood, andleft a memory behind to last to his dying day. Fascinated, hiseyes dwelt on the spot where the fisherman sunk, and for a moment aterrible temptation was whispered into his ear quietly, to drop intothe river, and accompany the spirit of the drowned man. But it lastedonly a moment, and the instinct of life resumed its power. 

It was not long ere his condition was discovered from the shore, whenchilled and shivering he was taken off by a boat that put out tohis rescue. On arriving at his home, Faith, excessively alarmed, immediately dispatched the faithful Felix for the doctor. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

 How sweetly could I lay my head Within the cold grave's silent breast, Where sorrow's tears no more are shed, No more the ills of life molest. 

 MOORE

Mr. Armstrong escaped, to all appearance, with a cold, from theaccident. But although this seemed the only effect produced upon hisbodily health, his mind had suffered a severe shock which was notequally obvious. Fancies, each gloomier than the preceding, took, henceforth, more and more possession of his imagination. He seemed theharbinger of misfortune to all connected with him. Frequently rose upthe image of his dead brother, mingling with his dreams and obtrudingitself even into his waking thoughts, at one time dripping withwater as when taken from the pond--ghastly pale--livid--with scarcelydistinguishable lineaments; at another wrapped in the dress of thetomb, and pointing with bony finger to a new-made grave. Then his wifewould appear, holding their little son by the hand, and standing onthe opposite side of a river that rolled between, beckoning him tocross. But whenever he made the attempt the waves would close over hishead, and he awoke with a sense of suffocation and gasping for breath. At another time the scene of the drowning fisherman would be repeated, but with innumerable variations. Sometimes, in some way or other, Holden would be mixed up with it, sometimes Faith, and sometimes, mosthorrible of all, he himself would be desperately struggling to holdSill under water, till finally the yielding body sunk, sunk intodepths no eye could fathom. But never till the face turned andtransfixed him with the despairing glare of those dreadful eyes. 

But we are anticipating and rather describing the condition intowhich his mind gradually fell, than its state immediately after hisinterview with the Solitary. It took some time longer before the ideathat by an inexorable decree he was doomed to entail destructionon all connected with him, became fixed. For awhile it floateduncertainly and impalpably before him, and only slowly, likean approaching spectre, took upon itself shape and presence. Aconversation between himself and his daughter on the second day afterthe accident, and his conduct immediately thereafter, may give us someapprehension of the current of his thoughts and feelings then. 

"My dearest father, " said Faith, throwing her arms around his neck, and repeating what she had said more than once before, "oh, howthankful ought I to be for the saving of your precious life!"

"We are often thankful in our ignorance, " said her father, "for thegreatest misfortunes. "

"Do you call it a misfortune to me, " she cried, "that I am not leftalone in the world? Oh, father, what should I do without you?" Andin spite of her exertions to suppress them, the tears burst from hereyes. 

"Come to me, my child, " said Armstrong, and he took the weeping girlinto his arms, and leaned her head gently upon his bosom. "Composeyourself. Believe me, there are trials harder to be borne than theloss of parents. "

"None, none to me, " sobbed Faith. "If it were right I would pray thatI might die the same moment with you. "

"It is well for one like me to think often of death, " said her father, "nor should the young forget they are mortal. But many happy days, Itrust, are reserved for my darling. "

"Happy, if you are to share them with me, father. But why do I weep, "she said, raising up her head and smiling through her tears, "atthinking of the possibility of a misfortune to myself, when my heartis swelling with thankfulness for your preservation?" She arose fromher father's lap, drew a chair to his side, and as her custom was, took one of his hands in both of hers. 

"Such are the dispensations of Providence, " said Armstrong. "The oldman, with white hair and bent body, creeps to his grave, while theinfant that has just learned to smile in its mother's face, is hurriedfrom her arms. Why was it that Sill, so strong, so happy, so young, with a wife and children dependant on him for support, should be takenand I left?"

"Why should we curiously inquire?" replied Faith. "If we could lookbehind the curtain, no doubt we should see sufficient reasons for thechoice. "

"When I look back upon my life, " continued Armstrong, more distinctlyrevealing the thought lurking in his mind, "it seems as if I were bornto be the cause of misfortune to others. Had any one else been inthe boat, the accident would not have happened, or certainly notterminated fatally. "

"Do not say so, dear father. Can you regulate the winds and waves?"

"No, Faith. Yet unmanly as it is, let me lament the fate that makes methe instrument to execute the decrees of Heaven. I am a rod toattract the fires that consume, while itself rises unscathed amid thedestruction. "

It seemed to Faith natural that her father should be affected by thedeath of the fisherman, who, after saving his life, had perished inthe attempt to bring rescue, although she thought his expressionsexaggerated. She felt pained at his self-reproaches, but doubted notthat soon the keenness of regret would lose its edge. In order thesooner, therefore, to produce this result, she attempted to divert histhoughts into another channel. 

"You are unjust to yourself, father, " she said. "How many are there tobless you for charities known only to themselves and you?"

"Mention them not, Faith, crumbs from my superfluity, like those thatfell from the other rich man's table. Besides, of what avail willany charities, as you call them, of mine be? They will serve only toconvey the curse that attaches itself to me. I tremble to think youare my daughter. "

"And I, " said Faith, "can never be thankful enough for having sucha father. Ah, how happy we might be, if you would only banish thesefancies from your mind!"

"Thus it is, " said Armstrong. "Did I not say right? Like an evilspirit I scatter only gloom around one. I will remove a presence thatblasts whatever it meets. "

So saying he rose, and in spite of the tearful entreaties of hisdaughter, walked into the hall, and taking his great coat from thehook that held it, put it on and passed into the street. 

Faith, upon his departure, sunk into a chair, and allowed freecourse to her tears. They brought relief, and after a few moments sherecovered composure. "This is very foolish, " she said to herself, "tocry like a child. My dear father is nervous, and I do not wonder, thatshocking accident agitates him. I am glad he is gone, for it isbetter he should seek the society of his friends, than sit here makinghimself melancholy with me. I must be cheerful to receive him when hereturns. At least, he shall see no trace of tears. "

Meanwhile, Mr. Armstrong walked down the street, but shunningthe sight of others, he turned at the first opportunity into anunfrequented road. It led towards the Severn, and hardly knowing howit happened, he crossed a bridge, and soon found himself in the woodsthat skirt the left bank of that river. Unconsciously, and as ifattracted by some spell, he was directing his course towards the sceneof the late disaster. The walk and the solemn silence of the woods, in which no sound was heard except the cawing of a watchful crow, some sentinel placed to give notice of approaching danger to hiscompanions, gradually subdued the excitement of his feelings. Hispace, at first rapid, relaxed, the light began to play upon the cloudsthat brooded on his spirits, and he wondered at his fancies and hisconduct. 

"How could I, " thought he, "be so cruel to my own Faith! Her lifeought to be all sunshine and gladness, and would be but for me, and Imust sadden and darken it with the baleful imaginings of a distemperedmind. I must struggle harder and pray oftener and more fervently tobe preserved from myself. And now my soul feels the need of communingwith the Infinite Spirit. What fitter place for adoration than thestillness of these old woods? Here worldly interruptions cannot come, and the veil between Him and His creature is withdrawn. "

He stopped. He looked up into the sky, and watched the clouds floatingin the blue. He glanced at the sun flaming in golden magnificence. Hiseyes fell on the hoary stems of the giants of the forest. He sawthe trailing arbutus, the delicious herald of warmer suns and softerwinds, creeping to his feet, and raised his hands to heaven andrepeated the lines of Milton--

 These are thy glorious works, Parent of Good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; Thyself how wondrous then! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above the heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works: yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought and power divine. 

He stooped down and picked a few bunches of the arbutus, and put themin his bosom. "Faith loves flowers, " he said, "and the sweetness andwhiteness of these are types of herself. "

He was now quite calm, and realized fully where he was. It is strange, he thought, how I came hither. I am like Philip, whom the Spiritcaught away. 

He continued his walk, striving to drive away the gloomy ideas, which, in spite of his resistance, threatened again to master him. With hiseyes bent upon the ground, he proceeded some distance, when a slightnoise attracted his attention. He raised his eyes, and discoveredthe cause. Five or six men were approaching, bearing, between them, something on some boards. Mr. Armstrong stopped, and, as they camenear, perceived, it was the body of the drowned fisherman. 

"Fate, " he murmured between his teeth, "has driven me here. It wasmeet that the murderer should be confronted by his victim. "

The men, when they had surmounted the steep river bank, tired with theweight, put down the corpse near where Armstrong stood. He walked upto it, and gazed upon the face. The men, solemnized by the mournfultask, and respecting the feelings of Armstrong, whom they all knew, preserved silence. 

There was no expression of pain upon the features. They wore the calm, impassive look of marble. The eyes and mouth were wide open--effortsto close them had been in vain--but, there was no speculation in theformer, and the soul played no more around the latter. The long brownhair, from which the water dripped, hung in disorder over the foreheadand down the neck. Armstrong knelt on the withered leaves, by the sideof the corpse, and parted the hair with his fingers. 

"The agony, " he said, as if addressing the drowned man, "is over. Thecurtain is lifted. The terrible secret is disclosed. You have heardthe summons we must all hear. You have trod the path we must alltread. You know your doom. Poor fellow! how gladly would I give mylife for yours. "

The bystanders were moved. Thus to behold the rich and prosperousMr. Armstrong, whose reserve was mistaken by some for haughtiness, kneeling on the ground and lamenting over the obscure fisherman, wassomething they had not expected. 

"Sill was a good fellow and a ginerous, " said Tom Gladding, wipingaway a tear, with the rough sleeve of his coat. 

"He was a clever fellow, was Sill, " added another. 

"I've known him more than once, " said Tom, "give half his fish away toa poor family. Josiah tried to make everybody comfortable. "

"When I was sick, a year ago, " said one of the men, "and the neighborsthought I was going to die, Josiah set up many a night with me, whenhe had to work all the next day for his wife and children. I had nonotion, then, he'd have to go afore me. "

"It's true what the primer says, " said another--

 "Xerxes the great must die, And so must you and I. "

"It don't need the primer or Xerxes either to tell us that, " said Tom. "Now, it looks kind o' hard to have a young man like Josiah go; but, seeing as how he must die, sometime or other, I guess it don't muchconsarn him whether it's to-day or to-morrow, when you think ofetarnity. Howsoever, it's no use standing here sniveling; so, let'sget on. Miss Sill will be glad the body's found, though it will 'mostkill her to see it. "

Thereupon, Tom and his friends took up the corpse, and pursued theirway to the village. 

Armstrong stood still, and looked after them till they were out ofsight. He then turned, descended the bank, and sat upon a rock on theedge of the water. 

He reviewed the events of the day before the yesterday. He hadrepeatedly endeavored to divert his mind from such thoughts; but, inspite of his wishes, they would force themselves back. Finding allresistance vain, he had, finally, abandoned himself to their control. 

They passed confusedly through his mind. It was difficult to arrangethem in the order of their succession. He began to be uncertainwhether his visit to Holden was made before or after the drowning ofSill. He tried to recollect the purpose of his visit to the Solitary, but could fix upon nothing definite. He seemed to remember that he hadmade a confession of some sort, and that Holden had charged him withthe murder of his brother; and, at the same time, commended him forremoving George from the evil to come. His thoughts then reverted tothe upsetting of the boat. He knew that Sill had saved his life; butwhy, when in safety on the boat, had he left it? He had a notion ofsome conversation between them, and strove, till his brain burned, toremember it. Had he not urged the unfortunate man to swim ashore? Wasit not most probable he had done so? Was not that most consistent withhis usual treatment of others? Was not that the means adopted by thestern angel of fate, to accomplish the decree?

Such was the nature of the thoughts of the unhappy Armstrong. Dowhat he might, he could not exclude them. They would give place to noothers. They were at home. They had a right to rule and to torture. They were a foretaste of a never-ending punishment. His will did notconsent; but, a mightier will commanded, and the weaker must obey. The sport of an irresistible necessity--with no power of choice--theblind, unwilling instrument of a controlling force, he was, notwithstanding, justly chargeable with every misfortune, and, like amalefactor, must endure the consequences. 

Long he sat thus absorbed in these wretched reflections. He staredupon the water, but saw nothing: the tide rose and wet his feet, buthe felt it not; the wind blew chill, but he was not cold. He got upat last from his seat, and was recalled to life. He felt stiff fromhaving been in one posture so long. He took out his watch, and foundit was twelve o'clock. He looked at the sun, and perceived it did notcontradict the watch, and turned his steps homeward. 

The crow from the topmost bough of a withered tree eyed him as hepassed along quite near, and croaked once, but did not leave hisperch. Armstrong heard him not. Nor did he heed the blue-bird singingin the noonday sun to the arbutus blossoms crushed by his unwittingfeet, or notice the petulant squirrel flinging down the shells of hisnuts, as if in mockery at the passing stranger. He was met by Primusin the village street, who took off his cap, but to the salutationof the negro he paid no regard. The General stopped as he passed, andturned round, with a sorrowful surprise, to look after him, and shookhis head. It was the first time Mr. Armstrong had passed him withoutnotice and a kind word. The negroes are very superstitious, and greatobservers of signs. He remarked that Mr. Armstrong's hat was pulledover his eyes, in the same manner he wore it at the funeral of hiswife, and augured some impending calamity. 

Mr. Armstrong entered his house, and threw himself into a seat, buthe sat only a moment. Something seemed to be wanting. A restlessimpatience possessed him. He took up the tongs and begun to alterthe disposition of the sticks of wood. He could not suit himself, andfinally abandoned the fire to itself, after having filled the roomwith smoke. He went to the bookcase, and took down a book, andcommenced reading. But presently his eyes wandered off, and fastenedthemselves on the rug. He threw down the book, and rung the bellviolently. Felix instantly answered the summons. 

"It seems to me you are very negligent in attending to the bell thismorning, " said he. "It is unpleasant to be obliged to ring so often. "

"You ring only once, Mr. Armstrong, " said Felix, opening his eyeswide with astonishment. "I in the kitchen at the time, and comeimmediumtly. The tongue still jingle. "

"You may well say your tongue jingles, " said Mr. Armstrong, sharply. "Let me trouble you not to contradict me. Where is Miss Faith?"

"Miss Faith went out an hour ago. I guess she is calling on someladies. "

"Go, and find her, and request her to come home. "

Felix retreated hastily into the kitchen, and seized his cap. Butbefore going out he thought it necessary to speak to Rosa. 

"O, Rosa!" he said, "take care o' the boss while I'm gone. Somethingdreadful is happened to him, and I'm 'fraid of the consequence. If youhear the bell, Rosa, run for your life. "

"How can I leave the dinner? It all spoil, Felix, " said Rosa. "I sendKaty. "

"Never mind two dinners, " cried Felix. "Better burn the roast beefthan make _him_ feel worse. I never know him cross afore. "

Felix was not obliged to go far. He had hardly got outside of thegate, when he saw his young mistress coming down the street. Walkingrapidly, he soon met her, and communicated his errand. Faith quickenedher steps, and in a few moments stood by the side of her father. 

She found him contemplating the sprigs of arbutus he had picked forher. The sight and scent of the lovely flowers had carried him back tothe moment when he plucked them, and restored, in a measure, thetone of mind that prevailed then. It was, therefore, with his usualsweetness he addressed her, though there was something in his voicethat made the words drop like so many tears upon her heart. 

"I have brought you some flowers, my darling, " he said. "They are thefirst nurslings of spring. Beautiful things! looking up all night andday, with their starry eyes, to heaven, and drinking the dew of God'sgrace. Happy things! they know no sin nor sorrow, and are rememberedonly for their perfume and beauty. Take them, Faith. Sweets tothe sweet. Like these flowers, your soul exhales an atmosphere offragrance, and they belong to you. "

The mutations of Mr. Armstrong's mind were like the changes of anApril day. The softer mood was now prevailing, and as Faith kissed theflowers, before she put them in her bosom, she felt less unhappy thanin the morning. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

 Whose part in all the pomp that fills, The circuit of the summer hills. Is that his grave is green. And deeply would their hearts rejoice, To hear again his living voice. 

 BRYANT. 

The funeral, with the usual celerity with which such things are donein our country, was to take place on the next day. Too often the hasteappears indecent, and it may be that in some instances the body hasbeen buried before life deserted it. It would seem that the familyfelt constrained by the presence of the corpse, and compelled toexercise an irksome self-control, and, therefore, desired to hurry itunder ground, as if it would be less likely there to know how soon itwas forgotten. 

But in the present case there was no reason why the body should belonger kept. There could be no doubt that life was extinct. It hadlain too long in the water to admit a ray of hope to the contrary. The sooner it was placed in its final earthly home the better forpoor Jane Sill, the widow. Her grief would the sooner be mitigated, bywithdrawing her thoughts from the dead to fix them on the necessity ofproviding for the living. Until the burial the sympathizing neighborstook upon themselves to perform the usual work of the household, suchas cooking the necessary food, &c. , and one or another came in attimes to look after the children, to see that nothing was neglectedfor their comfort, and to console the lone woman in her affliction. But this could not last long. It was better it should not, but thatthings should, as quickly as possible, resume their usual and naturalcourse. 

When the hour for the ceremony arrived, Mr. Armstrong sent round hiscarriage to convey the mourning family in the melancholy procession, while he and Faith, as the distance was short, proceeded on foot tothe house. It was situated on a sandy beach, near the Wootúppocut, anda considerable company had collected together before their arrival. Poor Josiah's generosity and good-nature had made him a generalfavorite, and his acquaintances had pretty generally turned out torender to him the last testimony of affection it would ever be intheir power to pay. The house was too small to hold all present, sothat besides the relations, very few except females were admitted. Faith entered, but her father, though courteously invited in, and inconsequence of his connection with the accident that caused the death, considered in some wise a mourner, preferred to remain on the outside. Meanwhile, during the preparations in the house, groups without werescattered round, engaged, in low voices, in various conversation. In some, expressions of condolence and pity were let fall for thecondition of the widow and her family; others descanted on thegood qualities of the deceased; others debated on what might be thefeelings of Armstrong, and wondered what he would give the widow. Theywere all acquainted with his generosity, and doubted not of his desireto repair, so far as he was able, the misfortune with which the moreignorant would insist upon connecting him as in some sort, a cause. For this reason, some of them stole sly glances, from time to time, at his face, wishing not to be observed, as if they expected to readtherein his purposes. But Armstrong, his eyes fastened on the ground, and absorbed in his own reflections, was unconscious of the attentionhe attracted. So lost was he, indeed, in his own thoughts, as not toobserve many of the nods and greetings directed to him. 

Presently low tones, as of one speaking, were heard issuing from thehouse, and those standing outside gathered round the open door, tolisten to the prayer of the minister. It seems to be taken for grantedthat on such occasions the prayer must occupy some considerable time, whether because a short one would be irreverent to the Being to whomit is addressed, or disrespectful to the sorrowing friends, or becausethe mind cannot sooner be impressed with due solemnity. Hence itfollows that as these prayers are extempore, and the abilities andtaste of those who offer them of different degrees, they are ofvarious shades of merit. Seldom is one made in which the canons ofgood taste are not violated, and some are not compelled to smile whoought to weep. The reverend gentleman who conducted the services, was not insensible to what was expected from him, and determined"to improve" the mournful event to the benefit of the living. Afteralluding to the gratitude his hearers ought to feel at not being thushurried, like poor Sill, without time for preparation, before the barof Judgment, who, however, he hoped, was prepared, and in orderto heighten the feeling of thankfulness, contrasting the light andliberty of life with the darkness of the grave (as if the spirit wereconfined there), he ran through the usual common places, speakingwith an assured conviction, as if the country beyond the grave wereas familiar to him as the streets of the town. With a tediousparticularity he then entreated the divine blessing upon the membersof the bereaved family, mentioning them by name, beginning with thewidow, to whom succeeded the children, two boys, one of four, andthe other of two years of age, followed by fathers, and mothers, andbrothers, and sisters to an indefinite extent, until the complimentwas duly paid to all who were supposed to have any claim to it. Theprayer was closed very much as it began, with a reference to thesuddenness of the death, which was treated as a warning sent for theirbenefit, and a hope that it might be laid to heart, and induce sinnersto fly from the wrath to come. The usual time being now consumed, theminister who had labored hard, and not without sundry hesitationsand coughings to accomplish his task, brought it to a conclusion, andannounced an appropriate hymn. There was something sadly sweetand touching in the homely words and simple tune, sung in low andsuppressed tones, as if they were afraid of disturbing the slumbers ofthe dead. 

Upon the conclusion of the hymn, the person who acted as master ofthe ceremonies went to the door, and, addressing those gathered round, said that all who desired might now have an opportunity to seethe corpse. Several accepted the invitation, and among others, Mr. Armstrong. 

The coffin was placed upon a table in the centre of the room, witha part of the lid turned back on hinges, so as to leave the faceexposed. The former friends and acquaintances of the dead man, givingplace and succeeding to one another, came, looked, and passed outagain, moving lightly on tip-toe solemnized and subdued by the awfulmystery of death. As they came in and left the house, they could seethrough an open door in an adjoining room the weeping widow in fullmourning, with her little boys on either side, and the relationsseated round in chairs. 

All having gazed upon the corpse who wished, preparations nowcommenced for screwing down the lid of the coffin. The sobs and soundsof grief which had proceeded from the room where the mourners werecollected, and which had been, as by an effort, suppressed during theprayer and hymn, now broke forth afresh. 

"O, do not hinder me, " poor Mrs. Sill was heard to say; "it's the onlychance I shall have in this world. "

"I guess you'd better not, " said a voice, trying to dissuade her. "It's no use; and, then, before all them strangers. "

"I will see Josiah, " she exclaimed, rising from her seat, and puttingaside the well-meaning hand that strove to detain her. "Who has abetter right to take the last look than me?"

With these words, her crape veil thrown in disorder back upon hershoulders, her eyes red and swollen with crying, and tears streamingdown her cheeks, she advanced towards the body, all respectfullymaking room for her as she approached. 

We are not a very demonstrative people. The inhabitants of New Englandare taught, from an early age, the lesson of self-control. They donot wear in their bosoms windows into which any eyes may look. It isconsidered unmanly for men to exhibit excessive feeling, and perhapsthe sentiment has an influence even on the softer sex. The conduct ofMrs. Sill was unusual, and excited surprise; but it is difficult tostem strong passion and it had its way. 

She moved quickly up to the table, and threw her arms around thecoffin, resting her cheek on that of her husband, while the hot tearsran in large drops down its marble surface. One who thought he had aright to interfere, whispered in her ear, and took hold of an arm todraw her away, but she turned fiercely upon him. 

"Who are you, " she said, "to separate me from my husband? Go--I willkeep him as long as I please. "

The person, seeing her determination, desisted; and all looked on inmournful silence. 

"O, Josiah, " she sobbed, "who'd have thought it! The best, the kindesthusband a woman ever had. O! how sorry I am for every hard word I everspoke to you. And you so good--never to find fault when I scolded. I was wicked--and yet all the time I loved you so. Did you know it, Josiah? If you were back again, how different I would treat you! Thefire should always be burning bright, and the hearth clean, when youcame back cold from fishing, and you should never, never ask me asecond time for anything. But you don't hear me. What's the useof crying and lamenting? Here, " she said, raising herself up, andaddressing those next her, "take him, and put him in his grave. "

She staggered and fainted, and would have fallen, had she not beencaught in the arms of sympathizing friends, who removed her into theadjoining chamber, and applied the usual restoratives. This causedsome little delay, but, after a time, the person who had assumed uponhimself the arrangements of the funeral, entered, preceding the fourbearers, whose hats he took into his own hands, to restore them to theowners when the coffin should be placed in the hearse--a plain blackwagon, with black cloth curtains--waiting at the door. The coffin wastaken up by them, and deposited accordingly; after which, they tooktheir places in front of the hearse, while the four pall-bearersranged themselves on each side. At a signal from the director of theceremony, the whole moved forward, leaving space for the carriagesto approach the door. Mr. Armstrong's carriage was driven up, and thewidow and children, with two or three females, were assisted in. Thenfollowed a few other vehicles, with the nearest relatives, after whomcame others, as they pleased to join. A large number of persons hadpreviously formed themselves into a procession before the hearse, headed by the minister, who would have been accompanied by aphysician, had one assisted in making poor Sill's passage to the otherworld easier. 

The mournful cortége wound slowly up a hill to the burying-ground--apiece of broken land on the top. At the time of which we write, theresting-place of the departed of Hillsdale presented a differentappearance from what it does now. Wild, neglected, overgrown withbriers, it looked repulsive to the living, and unworthy of the dead. The tender sentiment which associates beauty with the memory ofour friends, and loves to plant the evergreen and rose around theirgraves, seemed then not to have touched the bosoms of our people. Apleasing change has succeeded. The briars have been removed, treesplanted, and when necessary to be laid out, new burial-ground spotshave been selected remarkable for attractiveness and susceptibilityof improvement. The brook has been led in and conducted in tortuouspaths, as if to lull with a soft hymn the tired sleepers, and thenexpanded into a fairy lake, around which the weeping willow lets fallits graceful pendants. The white pine, the various species of firs, the rhododendron, mixed with the maple, the elm, and the tulip tree, have found their way into the sacred enclosure. The reproach ofPuritanic insensibility is wiped out. Europe may boast of proudermonuments, but she has no burial-places so beautiful as some of ours. Père la Chaise is splendid in marble and iron, but the loveliness ofnature is wanting. Sweet Auburn, and Greenwood, and Laurel Hill arepeerless in their mournful charms. 

The coffin was lowered into the grave in silence. No solemn voicepronounced the farewell "ashes to ashes, dust to dust. " The ceremonieswere concluded. The minister took off his hat, and addressing thebystanders, some of whom, respectfully imitating his example, raisedthe coverings from their heads, thanked them in the name of theafflicted family for this last tribute of regard. The processionwas formed again, and slowly returned to the house, leaving thegrave-digger to shovel in the gravel and complete his task. 

As Mr. Armstrong and Faith walked home together, but few words wereexchanged between them. Each was absorbed in reflection upon the scenejust witnessed. In Faith's mind it was solemn, but devoid of gloom. With the hopefulness of health and youth, gleams of sunshine playedover the grave. She looked beyond, and hoped and trusted. 

But with her father it was different. Had it not been for him Sillmight have been alive and well. He had made the wife a widow and herchildren orphans. He had introduced weeping and wailing into a happyhome. But this was a slight calamity, and hardly worthy of a thoughtin comparison with another. The words of the minister, that the victimhad been hurried to his sentence without time for preparation recurredwith a feeling of horror. It was he through whose instrumentality Sillhad been thrust into tormenting but undestroying flames. Better thathe had never been born. Better that he had been strangled in the hourof his birth. 

With thoughts like these, this unhappy man, whose heart was the seatof all the virtues, tormented himself. It seemed sometimes strangethat people did not point their fingers at him: that he was notarrested for the murder: that he was permitted to walk abroad in thesunshine. His mind, unknown to those about him, unknown to himself, was hovering on the confines of insanity. Only a spark, perhaps, wasnecessary to light a conflagration. Alas! that one so good, so noble, should be a victim of destiny. But we forbear to intrude further intoreflections alike miserable and insane. 

Mr. Armstrong felt more composed the next day, and in the afternoon, accompanied by Faith, went to the dwelling of the widow. They foundher engaged in ordinary family affairs. The duties to the living mustbe respected. To neither rich nor poor does sorrow furnish an excusefor their neglect. Let the mind find something to occupy it, thehand something to do. Thus do we become sooner reconciled to thosedispensations of Providence at which our weakness, and ignorance, andpresumption rebel. 

The poor woman received them kindly, and offered chairs. Faith tookinto her lap the younger child from the floor on which it was sitting, gnawing a crust of brown bread, and began to talk to him. The roundeyes of the boy expressed his astonishment, but as he looked into theloving face and heard more of the sweet voice, the alarm he at firstfelt at the approach of the stranger subsided, and he smiled with theconfiding innocence which children return to the caresses of those whoare fond of them. 

"Jimmy doesn't know what a loss he's had, " said Mrs. Sill. 

"Jimmy will grow up to take care of his mother bye and bye, and repayher for some of her trouble, won't he?" said Faith, addressing theboy. 

"O, Josiah and Jimmy are my only comfort, " said the widow--"now thathe's gone. I don't know what I should do without them, I'm sure. "

Mr. Armstrong had called the elder boy, Josiah, to his side, and thelittle fellow had quickly become familiar enough to play with his goldwatch-chain. Seeing it pleased the child, he took the watch and heldit to his ear, at which the countenance of the boy became radiant withdelight. "O, Jimmy, " he cried, "it talks. "

Mr. Armstrong released the watch into the hands of Josiah, who ranwith it to his brother. 

"He will drop it, " exclaimed Mrs. Sill, starting forward, taking thewatch from the hands of the disappointed boy, and offering it to Mr. Armstrong. 

"Keep it, " he said, "for Josiah, to associate me, when he grows up, with his father's death. "

"You don't mean to give away your gold watch?" said Mrs. Sill, stillholding it out towards him. 

"Yes, Mrs. Sill, " said Mr. Armstrong, "I intended it for him: I wouldgive him all I have if I could thereby restore his father to life. "

This observation renewed in full force the sorrow of the poor woman. She sank back into a chair, and covering her face with her apron, sobbed and wept bitterly. 

Faith looked at her father with an expression which seemed to say--donot refer to the cause of her grief. Armstrong understood the appeal, but he had that in his mind which was unknown to his daughter, andafter a pause he proceeded. 

"I have more property than I deserve, and what better use can I putit to than give it to the deserving? You will find in that, " hecontinued, handing a paper to the widow, "what will entitle you toa little income during your life. I hope it will enable you to takebetter care of your children. "

Mrs. Sill took the paper mechanically, and gazed upon without openingit or imagining the extent of the gift. She kept turning it round andround in her fingers, as if not knowing what to do with it. 

"Everybody knows you're a kind man, and as generous as you're rich, Mr. Armstrong;" at last she said, "But I guess I shant want anythinglong in this world. "

"I hope you may live long yet, " said Mr. Armstrong, "for the sake ofthe little boys. "

This allusion recalled her more to herself, and without looking atthe paper she put it into her bosom. "I'm sure I thank you with all myheart, and shall always try to do my duty by them, " she said. 

Here Mr. Armstrong rose, and Faith, putting down the child, thatseemed loth to leave her, spoke in a low tone some parting words ofconsolation. 

"I'm sure you're very good; I'm sure I'm very much obleeged to you, "was all Mrs. Sill could say. 

On their way home Faith spoke of the promising appearance of thechildren, and of what the hopes of the mother must be on theiraccount. 

"It is true they are all that are left to her, " said Mr. Armstrong, "and what hopes she has of earthly happiness must be built on them. But who can look into to-morrow? A few days ago, never dreaming ofmisfortune, she exulted in the enjoyment of her husband and littleboys. The first is taken away, and none know how soon the latter maybe. So joys and sorrows are mingled together. At this moment she ismore miserable for having been happy, and so great is the misery, itoutweighs all the happiness of former years. Such is the nature ofpain and pleasure. A pang of the former, an instant's acute agony, maybe equivalent to hours of what is called enjoyment. We are so made. Wemay hope for happiness: we are certain of sorrow. We must seekafter the one: the other is sure to find us. When I look round, whatevidences of wretchedness do I see! Alas, it is indeed a fallen world, and the ground is cursed for man's sake. "

"You take a gloomy view, father, " said Faith. "Look beyond. Are we notpromised a happier time when the bliss of Eden shall be renewed?"

"Yes, and the time will come. Not only prophets and apostles havehad it revealed to them, but grand souls among the heathen have dimlydescryed its dawning from afar. But what unimaginable scenes of horrormust first be? What doleful _misereres_ must first ascend to cloudthe brightness of the heavens and dim the joy of the blest! Long, longbefore then, your and my remembrance, Faith, will have perished fromthe earth. You will be then a seraph, and I--. If there be ever aninterval of pain, it will be when I think of your blessedness, andyou, if angels sometimes weep, will drop a tear to the memory of yourfather, and it shall cool his torment. "

What could the grieved and alarmed daughter say? She spoke in gentleand loving tones. She combated by every possible argument thesemiserable fancies. She entreated him for her sake as well as his own, to cast them off. He listened to her without impatience, and as ifhe loved to hear the sound of her voice. But he shook his head witha mournful sadness, and his melancholy remained. As may well besupposed, the dark cloud that had settled down upon his mind was notthus to be dissipated. Faith, though troubled, did not despair. Shetrusted the impression of the late calamity, to which she attributedmuch of his unhappiness, would in time wear off. Meanwhile, shecommended him to the kind protection of that Gracious Being who isloving to all his works. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

 I cannot think of sorrow now: and doubt If e'er I felt it--'tis so dazzled from My memory by this oblivious transport. 

 BYRON

"Here come that strange old man, " said Felix, the next morning, looking out of the kitchen window, which commanded a view of the road. "I do believe he's bewitched the boss. "

Rosa, to whom the remark was addressed, ran to the window, and saw theRecluse coming up the street. 

"I'm 'stonished, " she said, "that Mr. Armstrong and Miss Faith giveso much encouragement to these low pussons. They always take so muchliberty. "

"Give 'em an inch and they take two feet, " said Felix. "I wish histwo feet take him away from this house for the last time, " he added, laughing. 

"Ha, ha, ha, you so 'musing Felix, " said Rosa. "There is something toovery genteel in your laugh. "

"You do me proud, sweet Rosa, " answered Felix, bowing with his handupon his breast. 

Holden was no favorite of the black. The well-dressed and well-fedservant of a wealthy family, with the feeling common to all who judgefrom outside appearances, had at first been disposed to look down uponthe coarsely-dressed anchorite, who supported himself by so mean alabor as the manufacture of baskets, and to consider him as littlebetter than a beggar-man. No sooner, however, did Holden detect thefeeling, and it was instantly, than he corrected it, so that it nevermade its appearance again in his presence. In fact, a feeling of fearsuperseded the impertinence of the negro. There was something in theburning glare of Holden's eyes, and the deep tones of his voice, thatexerted an inexplicable power over Felix. Much he turned it over inhis mind, why, in spite of himself, he was obliged to be as civilto Holden as to white gentlemen, and at last concluded, the Solitarypossessed some magic art, by which he controlled others. He the morereadily adopted the opinion because he considered his master and youngmistress under the spell of the same glamourie to which he himself hadsuccumbed. 

When, therefore, Holden struck with the knocker on the door, theobsequious Felix was at hand to open it, and show him into the parlor. 

"Tell your master I am here, " said Holden, entering. 

"How does he know Mr. Armstrong is at home?" said Felix, to himself. "But I'm a free man, and it is very onpolite to talk about my master. "

"The Lord hath raised up a mighty salvation for us, " was the addressof Holden, as Mr. Armstrong entered the room. "I come to bid theefarewell for a time. "

"Farewell!" repeated Mr. Armstrong, without comprehending the meaningof the other. 

"Sit thee down, dear friend, and listen to what will give thee joy formy sake now, and thine own hereafter. My son, who was dead, is aliveagain. ". 

Armstrong was at a loss to divine the meaning of his visitor. He tookit for some figurative form of expression, and, without making anyreply, passed his hand over his forehead, as if trying to recall someidea. 

Holden read his thoughts. "Thou dost not understand, " he said. "Knowthen that the child perished not with the mother. "

"My friend, " said Armstrong, who had now complete command of himself, "you do not reflect that I cannot understand your allusions. Explainto me, that I may participate in your joy. "

"The child of my youth, he whom I lost, whom I mourned for so manyyears as dead, is alive, " exclaimed Holden, in tones of irrepressibleemotion. 

"I give you joy, " said Armstrong, grasping his hand. "But you nevermentioned you had a son. How have you lost, and how found him?"

"It is the Lord's doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes, " saidHolden. "Not long since thou didst tell of an unhappy man, round whomafflictions had gathered. Now will I tell thee of another not lesswretched, the clouds of whose sorrow the setting sun is gilding. Be itunto thee for a lesson of hope, for I tell thee, James, that assuredlythou shalt be comforted. "

We will endeavor to compress into a few words the more diffusenarrative of the Recluse, confining ourselves to the substance. 

It will be recollected that before Holden's constrained retirementamong the Indians, he had attached to him the squaw, Esther, by theties of both gratitude and respect. But it was only at a distance shelooked up to him whom she regarded as a sort of superior being. Shewould not have ventured to speak to him of herself, for how could hetake an interest in so insignificant a creature? The nearer relations, however, into which they were thrown, while he was an inmate ofher cabin, without diminishing her affection, abated her awe. Theteachings of Holden, and the strong interest he manifested for herselfand tribe so affected her, that one day she made to him a confessionof the events of her life. It is only necessary to recount those whichhave a connection with this story. Some twenty years previous she hadaccompanied her husband on a visit to a tribe in Kentucky, into whichsome of her own relatives had been received. While there an expeditionhad been undertaken by the Indians, which her husband joined, againstthe white settlements, then inconsiderable, and exposed. After a fewdays the warriors returned in triumph, bringing with them manyscalps, but no prisoner, except a little boy, saved by her husband, Huttamoiden. He delivered the child to her, and having none herself, she soon learned to love it as her own. Huttamoiden described to herwith that particularity which marks the description of natural objectsby an Indian, whose habits of life in the forest compel him to a closeobservation, the situation of the log-hut from which the child wastaken, the hut itself before which leaped a mountain stream, theappearance of the unfortunate woman who was murdered, and thedesperate resistance of the master of the cabin, who, at the time, wassupposed to have perished in the flames, but was afterwards known bythe name of Onontio--as the scourge and terror of the tribe whichhad destroyed his family. She had shortly afterwards started with herhusband, taking with them the little boy, for the east, but they foundthe innumerable questions and suspicions occasioned by the possessionof the white child so annoying, and dreaded so the inquiries andinvestigation that would be made upon their return home, that theydetermined to get rid of him upon the first opportunity. As theirroute lay through New York, the streets of a populous city furnishedthe very chance they desired. It was with great reluctance Estherfelt herself compelled to this course, and she was unwilling the childshould fall into unkind hands. While reflecting upon what was to bedone, she remembered a family which had come from that part of thecountry whence she came, and whom she had known as worthy people, and determined to entrust to them the boy. She dared not to dothis openly. So one night she placed the child on their door-step, enjoining him not to stir until some one took him into the house, while she herself watched close by, until she saw him taken in. Sincethen, not daring to make inquiries, for fear of bringing on herselfsome unknown punishment, she had not heard of the boy. She rememberedthe name of the people with whom he was left, and also the street, andthe number, and gave them to Holden. 

Upon this foundation it was the Recluse built up the hope that his sonwas yet alive. 

"I am Onontio, " he said. "The Being who touched the heart of theferocious savage to spare the life of the child, hath preserved him. Mine eyes shall yet behold him. "

Armstrong was deeply touched, and in the contemplation of thebrightening prospects of his friend, he forgot the clouds that hungaround his own horizon. Perhaps he was not so sanguine of successas Holden, whose eagle eyes seemed penetrating the future, but herespected too deeply the high raised hopes and sacred feelings of thefather, to drop a word of doubt or discouragement. 

"Myself, my purse, " he said, "are at your service. "

"Thomas Pownal goeth to the city to-morrow, " replied Holden. "I willspeak unto him, and accompany him. Nor do I refuse thy assistance, butfreely as it is offered as freely do I accept it. They who are worthyto be called my friends, regard gold and silver only as it ministersto their own and others' wants. "

He took the proffered bank-bills with quite as much an air of oneconferring, as one of receiving a favor, and, without even looking atthe amount, put them in his pocket. 

It was so long since Holden had been in the great world, or mingledin the ordinary pursuits of men--and his appearance and mode of speechwere so different from those of others--that Armstrong had some fearsrespecting his researches. It was, perhaps, this latent apprehensionof his fitness to appear in the world--an apprehension, however, only dimly cognizable by himself--that induced Holden to seek thecompanionship of Pownal. With these feelings, and believing he mightbe of advantage to this strange man, for whom this new developmentawakened additional interest in his mind, Armstrong offered to be hiscompanion, in the search for his son; but, to his surprise, his offerwas hastily rejected. 

"No, " said Holden; "it befitteth not. Stay, to take care of Faith. Stay, to welcome me when I shall return with a crown of rejoicing uponmy head. "

Armstrong shrunk within himself at the repulse. He would not haveregarded or hardly noticed it once, but, his mind had become morbidlysensitive. A word, a look, a tone had now power to inflict a wound. He was like the Sybarite whose repose was disturbed by a wrinkledrose-leaf; with this difference, that they were spiritual, notmaterial hurts he felt. Did the forecast of Holden penetrate thefuture? Did he, as in a vision, behold the spectres of misfortune thatdogged Armstrong's steps? Was he afraid of a companionship thatmight drag him down and entangle him in the meshes of a predestinedwretchedness? He is right, thought Armstrong. He sees the whirlpoolinto which, if once drawn, there is no escape from destruction. 

Holden succeeded better in communicating a portion of his confidenceto Pownal. In the morning of life, before experience has dimmed oursky with clouds, we readily perceive the sun of joy. The bright eyesof youth catch his rays on the mountain tops, before the drooping lidsof age are raised from the ground. The ardent temperament of theyoung man entered with delight into the hopes of his elder. He evenanticipated the request Holden intended to make, and asked permissionto accompany him. With a very natural feeling he endeavored to effectsome change in the costume of the Recluse, but here he met withdecided opposition. 

"I have nothing to do with the world or its follies, " said Holden. "Let it pass on its way as I will on mine. It will reck but little ofthe garments of an unknown man. "

It was more for the sake of his friend than himself that Pownalproposed the change. Perceiving the feelings of the other, he forboreto press a proposal further, which, after all, was of but littleconsequence. A sloop was to sail the next day--the wind favoring--fromHillsdale, and it was agreed between the two to take passage together. 

We may judge of the feelings of Pownal at this time, from the factthat the last evening he spent at Hillsdale, before he left for NewYork, where, indeed, he expected to remain but a short time, found himat the house of Judge Bernard. He was fortunate, whether beyond hisexpectations or not we cannot say, in finding Miss Bernard alone. Atleast it was a fortunate coincidence with his wishes, and might wejudge, from the raised color of the cheeks, and the smiles that playedround the lips of the beautiful girl, not displeasing to her. It iswonderful, when we look back, how frequently these charming accidentsof youth occur. 

It was unnecessary that Pownal should speak of his intended trip tothe commercial capital. He seemed to assume that Anne was alreadyacquainted with his purpose, but of Holden's discovery she had notbeen informed. 

"Beautiful!" cried Anne, clapping her hands. "We shall have a_dénouément_ fit for a novel yet. Oh, I do hope he may find his son. And, " added she, with a warm quick feeling, "I can see now reason forthe strange habits of our poor dear prophet. Oh, to think of the longyears of lonesome misery he must have passed!"

"He seems to have no doubt, " said Pownal, "of discovering his lostson. I confess that when I heard him in his animated way tell hisstory, with eyes raised in thankfulness to heaven, I was swept alongby his enthusiasm, and felt no more doubt than himself of his success;but when I reflect more calmly on the circumstances the prospect isnot so brilliant. "

"Do not doubt: the prospect _is_ brilliant: Jeremiah shall cease hislamentations: our prophet shall be made happy. Ah, why anticipateanything but good!"

"I accept the omen, dear Miss Bernard, " said Pownal, looking withadmiration upon her beaming countenance, "Men arrive at conclusions, how often false, by a fallible process of reasoning, while truth comesto your more fortunate sex by a happy inspiration. "

"And I accept the compliment, since you accept the inspiration. I hopeit is with more than the ordinary sincerity of those in the habit ofmaking compliments. "

"I wish you could see into my heart. "

"You would wish the window closed immediately. What do you suppose Ishould see there?"

"Yourself. "

"Then it is a looking-glass, " said Anne, blushing. "A valuable pieceof furniture certainly, in which any lady may view her face!"

"No! a portrait more true to life than Stuart's, and which I prizeabove everything. "

"You must be mistaken in fancying it mine. Only old pictures areprized. The moderns have no reputation. "

"You will always jest. I assure you I am serious, " said Pownal, who, however, was obliged to smile. 

"I see you are very serious. Oh, I hate seriousness ever since I wasfrightened by the long face of Deacon Bigelow, when he discovered myignorance of the catechism. It was as long, " she added, looking roundfor something to compare it to, "as the tongs. "

"Or as your lessons of a June day, when the sunshine and birds, andflowers were inviting you to join them. "

"Or as the time when I do not see Faith for twenty-four hours. "

"Or as my absence will be to me in New York. "

"I wonder how you, " said Anne, "who are accustomed to the bustle andexcitement of a large city, can be contented with the quiet monotonyof a country town. "

"I found something here not to be found in all country towns, " saidPownal. "Besides, the noise and confusion of a large place never wereagreeable to me, and when I return to them they lie like a weight uponmy spirits. Instead of a city I ought to have been born in a boundlessforest. "

"You know I have said, I thought there was a wildness about you, "replied Anne, laughing. 

"Do you not consider the wild animal tamed?"

"Not entirely. It belongs to a species almost irreclaimable. "

"He will never be tamed a second time. "

"Then he must not be suffered to escape. "

The words flew from the lips of the gay impulsive girl before she wasaware. The eloquent blood crimsoned her cheeks, and clapping both herhands upon her face to conceal the blushes, she burst into a laugh asmusical as the song of the canary bird. Pownal's eyes sparkled withdelight, but before he could utter a word, she had sprung upon herfeet. 

"It is too bad, " she cried, "to compare you to a wild animal. Forgiveand forget my impertinence. I have been reading a novel, " and as, shesaid so she took a book from the table, "by an American author, whichinterests me greatly. Have you seen it?"

Pownal took the book into his hands. It was one of Charles BrockdenBrown's. 

"I read it some years ago, " he said; "and I remember it made a greatimpression upon me at the time. It appears to me to be written withwonderful power of enchaining the attention. I could not lay it downuntil it was finished. "

"Exactly as I was affected, " said Anne. 

"Yet I wonder that one so lively and merry as Miss Bernard shouldbe pleased with such a book. The subjects of Brown's novels are allgloomy. His imagination seems at home only in sombre scenes. His isthe fascination of horror. "

"I wonder at it myself. But it shows the ability of the writer, inbeing able to affect as thoughtless a person as I am. "

"Not thoughtless. No one would say that of you but yourself. It is, perhaps, because of your gaiety--on account of the contrast. Thesunshine loves to light up dark places. "

"Very prettily expressed. Really, if you go on improving, we musthave you appointed valentine-manufacturer-general for the town ofHillsdale. "

"I suspect the valentines would all be addressed to one person. "

"Then I shall oppose your appointment. But let that pass for thepresent. You were telling me why I liked Brown's novels. "

"I am not so presumptuous. I was only guessing. It is the Yankee'sprivilege. The world concedes it to us. I suggest then that your mindwanders through those dark scenes with an interest like that withwhich a traveller contemplates a strange country. And may they everremain a strange region to you. May you ever continue to be what youare now, a bright being, at whose approach sorrow and sadness flyaway. "

The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of the Judge andMrs. Bernard, on their return from some neighborly call. Anne receivedthe bonnet and shawl from her mother, who was evidently accustomed tosuch attentions, nor had the young lady ever appeared more beautifulin the eyes of the young man, than when he saw her rendering thoselittle services of filial respect and affection. "She deserves, " hesaid to himself, "the richest gifts of Providence. One so bright, sopure, so innocent, must be a favorite of the angels. "

These were lover's thoughts, and our readers at the remembrance ofyouthful dreams and fancies will pardon their extravagance. They comeat only one period of life, and oh, how quickly do they fly, leavingbehind a trail of light which may, indeed, be obscured, but neverquite extinguished. 

Pownal informed the Judge of his intended departure, and, as usual, received from him and Mrs. Bernard some commissions to execute ontheir account. That of the former was for some books, while hiswife's, we are compelled to say, however undignified it may sound, wasfor nothing more important than the last fashionable French bonnet. But let us add that she took not more pleasure in wearing a becominghead-dress (and what new fashion is not becoming?) than he in seeingher handsome face in its adornment. 

"My husband, " she said, "Mr. Pownal, tries to Frenchify me a little, sometimes, and I am obliged to indulge him, he is generally so good;but he will never succeed in making anything else out of me than aplain Yankee woman. "

"Plain or beautiful, the highest title to my affection, " said theJudge, gallantly. "I have been a traveller, Thomas, and have seenthe Old World. This is a progressive world; and, believe me, theproductions of the New are not, to say the least, inferior to those ofthe Old. "

"I can well believe it, " said Pownal, bowing to the ladies. 

"A pleasant voyage, Thomas, " said the Judge, as he bade his youngfriend good-bye, "along the sandy shores of Long Island, and throughthe perils of Hell Gate. "

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

 "Then lock thee fast Alone within thy chamber, there fall down On both thy knees, and grovel on the ground: Cry to thy heart: wash every word thou utter'st In tears (and if't be possible) of blood: Beg Heaven to cleanse the leprosy. "

 FORD'S PLAYS. 

Armstrong, upon the departure of Holden, sat moodily pondering whathad been told him. Were his emotions those of pleasure or of pain? Atfirst, the former. The natural goodness of his disposition madehim instinctively rejoice in the happiness of his friend. For a fewmoments, he forgot himself, and, as long as the forgetfulness lasted, was happy in the participation of the other's hopes. But this frameof mind was only momentary. We have seen how an answer of Holden wassufficient to restore his gloom. Thoughts chased each other in wildconfusion, over which he had no control, which he reproached himselffor admitting--which he would have excluded, if he could. Theconnection between him and the Solitary was one of mutual misfortune. Sorrow was the ligament that united them. For years had he knownHolden, but it was only within a short time, namely, since an awakenedconscience (so he judged, himself) had revealed to him his ownhideousness, that he had been attracted to the Solitary. Should Holdenrecover his son, should his heart expand once more to admit worldlyjoys, would it not be closed to him? As he once felt indifferencetowards Holden, so would not Holden, by a change of circumstances, by the awakening of new desires and new hopes, by the occupancyof emotions the more delightful because fresh and for so longunexperienced, stand to him in other and colder relations? Thesereflections were not clear, distinct, sharply defined. They drovethrough his mind, ragged and torn, like storm-clouds chased by thetempest. 

There were two beings struggling with one another in him--the onestriving to encourage the noble feelings of his nature, and drive awaywhatever was inconsistent with truth and reason--the other whisperingdoubt, and selfishness, and despair. He rose and paced, with rapidsteps, the room. 

"Has it come to this?" he said to himself, as if wondering at hiscondition. "Am I become incapable of participating in the happiness ofothers? Am I a festering mass of selfishness? O! once it was not so. I will resist these thoughts which come from the bottomless pit. Theyshall not master me. They are the temptations of the Evil One. But canI resist them? Have I not grieved away the spirit? Is there place forrepentance? Am I not like Esau, who sought it in vain with many tears?If he was refused the grace of God, why not I? Why not I, that I maygo to my own place? Already I feel and know my destiny. I feel it inthe terrible looking for of judgment. I feel it in that I do not lovemy neighbor. If I did, would I not sympathize in his happiness? Wouldthis wretched self for ever interpose? I never knew myself before. Inow know the unutterable vileness of my heart. I would hide it fromThee, my God. I would hide it from Thy holy angels--from myself. "

That day, Mr. Armstrong stirred not from the house, as long as the sunremained above the horizon. The golden sunshine deepened his mentalgloom. Nor to his eyes was it golden. It was a coppery, unnaturallight. It looked poisonous. It seemed as if the young leaves of springought to wither in its glare. 

He heard the laugh of a man in the street, and started as if he hadbeen stung. It sounded like the mockery of a fiend. Was the laughdirected at him? He started, and ran to the window, with a feelingof anger, to see who it was that was triumphing over his misery. He looked up and down the street, but could see no one. Thedisappointment still further irritated him. Was he to be refused thepoor satisfaction of knowing who had wounded him? Was the assassinto be permitted to stab him in the back? Was he not to be allowed todefend himself? He returned and resumed his seat, trembling all over. Faith's canary bird was singing, at the top of its voice. Armstrongturned and looked at it. The little thing, with fluttering wings andelevated head, and moving a foot, as if beating time, poured out atorrent of melody. The sounds, its actions, grated on his feelings. Herose and removed it into another room. 

He folded his arms, his head fell upon his chest, and he shut hiseyes to exclude the light. "I am out of harmony with all creation, "he said. "I am fit for a place where no bird ever sings. This is theevidence of my doom. Only the blessed can be in harmony withGod's works. Heaven is harmony--the music of his laws. Evil isdiscord--myself am discord. "

Faith had still some influence over him, though even at her entrancehe started "like a guilty thing surprised. " Her presence was a charmto abate the violence of the hurricane. He could not resist the gentletones of her voice, and at the spell his calmed spirit trembled intocomparative repose. Armstrong acknowledged it to himself as an auguryof good. 

I cannot be wholly evil, he thought, if the approach of a pure angelgives me pleasure. The touch of Ithuriel's spear reveals deformitywhere it exists; in me it discloses beauty. 

With her he could talk over the ordinary affairs of the day withcalmness, though it is singular, considering the perfect confidencebetween them, that he never adverted to the communication of Holden, notwithstanding he knew it would possess the highest interest for her. It betrays, perhaps, the weakened and diseased condition of a mind, wincing like an inflamed limb at the apprehension of a touch. 

As the father listened and looked at his child, he felt transportedinto a region whither the demons could not come. They could not endureher purity; they could not abide her brightness. Her influence was abarrier mightier than the wall that encircled Paradise, and over whichno evil thing could leap. He therefore kept her by him as much aspossible. He manifested uneasiness when she was away. His consolationand hope was Faith. As the Roman prisoner drank life from the purefountains to which he had given life, so Armstrong drew strength fromthe angelic spirit his own had kindled. 

Yet was his daughter unconscious of the whole influence she exerted, nor had she even a distant apprehension of the chaos of his mind. How would she have been startled could she have beheld the seethingcauldron! But into that, only the Eye that surveys all things couldlook. 

Thus several days passed by. An ordinary observer would have noticedno change in Armstrong, except that his appetite diminished, and heseemed restless. Doctor Elmer and Faith both remarked these symptoms, but they did not alarm the former, though they grieved the latter. Accustomed to repose unlimited confidence in the medical skill ofthe physician, and too modest to have an opinion adverse to thatof another older than herself, and in a department wherewith he wasfamiliar, and she had no knowledge except what was colored by filialfears and affection, and, perhaps, distorted by them out of itsreasonable proportions, Faith went on from day to day, hoping thata favorable change would take place, and that she should havethe happiness of seeing her dear father restored to his formercheerfulness. 

It is painful to follow the sad moods of a noble mind, conscious ofits aberrations, and yet unable to control them. We have not thepower of analysis capable of tracing it through all its windings, andexhibiting it naked to the view, and if we had, might shrink from thetask, as from one inflicting unnecessary pain, both on the writerand the reader. It is our object only so far to sketch the state ofArmstrong's mind, as to make his conduct intelligible. 

His restlessness has been alluded to. He found himself unable to sleepas formerly. Long after retiring to rest he would lie wide awake, vainly courting the gentle influence that seemed to shun him the moreit was wooed. The rays of the morning sun would sometimes stream intothe window before sleep had visited his eyelids, and he would risehaggard, and weary, and desponding. And if he did sink into slumber, it was not always into forgetfulness, but into a confused mist ofdreams, more harassing than even his waking thoughts. The difficultyof obtaining sleep had lately induced a habit of reading late into thenight, and not unfrequently even into the morning hours. Long afterhis daughter had sought her chamber, and when she supposed he wasin bed, he was seated in his solitary room, trying to fasten hisattention on a book, and to produce the condition favorable to repose. The darkness of his mind sought congenial gloom. If he openedthe sacred volume, he turned not to the gracious promises ofreconciliation and pardon, and the softened theology of the NewTestament, or to those visions of a future state of beatitude, whichoccasionally light up the sombre pages of the Old, as if the gates ofParadise were for a moment opened, to let out a radiance on a darknessthat would else be too disheartening and distracting; but to thewailings of the prophets and denunciations of punishment. These hefastened on with a fatal tenacity, and by a perverted ingenuity, insome way or other connected with himself, and made applicable tohis own circumstances. Naught could pass through his imagination ormemory, but, by some diabolical alchemy, was stripped of its sanativeand healthful properties, and converted into harm. 

"Young's Night Thoughts" was a book that possessed peculiarattractions. For hours would he hang over its distressful pages, andmany were the leaves blotted by his tears. Yet those tears relievedhim not. Still, from time to time, would he recur to the book, as iftempted by a fascination he could not resist, striving to find, ifpossible, in the wretchedness of another, a lower deep than his own. Especially in the solemn hours of the night, when the silence was soprofound, he could fancy he heard the flickering of the candles, heread the book. Then hanging upon image after image of those deploringstrains, and appropriating all their melancholy, intensified throughthe lens of his own dark imagination, he would sink from one depthof wretchedness to another, till he seemed lost away, where no ray oflight could ever penetrate, or plummet sound. 

He had been reading one night late, until as if unable to endure theimages of woe it conjured up, he pushed the book away from him. Thenight was dark and stormy, and the rain pouring in torrents. He walkedto the window and looked out. He could see nothing, except as thelandscape was revealed for an instant by a flash of lightning. Hecould hear nothing, except the peals of thunder rolling throughthe valleys. He took a candle, and walked cautiously to the door ofFaith's chamber, to see if she were asleep. The door was ajar, forthe purpose of ventilation, and, shading the light with his hand, Armstrong could see the face of his sleeping daughter without wakingher. She lay in the profound slumber of health and youth, undisturbedby the noise of the thunder, as one conscious of a protectingProvidence. Her left hand was under her cheek, the black hair combedback, and collected under the snowy cap. Her breathing was scarcelyperceptible, but soft and quiet as an infant's. An expression ofhappiness rested on her features, and the color was a little kindledin her cheek, looking brighter in contrast with the linen sheet. 

"She sleeps, " he thought, "as if there were no sin and misery in theworld. And why should she not? What has she to do with them? Were myspiritual eyes opened, I should see the protecting angels in shininggarments around her bed, unless my approach has driven them away. Heaven takes care of its own. So I could sleep once. Will the timecome when she, too, shall be so guilty she cannot sleep? AlmightyGod forbid! Better she were in her grave. They are fortunate who dieyoung. They are taken from the evil to come. The heart ceases to beatbefore it becomes so hard it cannot repent. Were she to die to-nighther salvation would be assured. What infinite gain! The murderer couldinflict no injury, but would confer a benefit. "

Why did he start? Why did he shudder all over? Why did he hastily turnround, and shut the door, and hasten to his own room, locking it afterhim? Why was it he took something from his pocket, and, opening thewindow, threw it violently into the dark? But a moment Armstrongremained in his room. Blowing out the candles, and noiselesslydescending the stairs, he as quietly opened and shut the front door, and stood in the open air. 

The storm was at its height. The rain poured with such violence thatin the flashes of lightning he could see the large drops leap fromthe ground. But he felt not that he was wet to the skin. He mindednot that he had left the house without a hat, and that the water wasrunning in streams from his head to the earth. With a rapid pace, approaching running, he fled through the streets, until he reached thegrave-yard. Without a ray to guide him, through a darkness that mightbe felt, he found his way to a grave, it was his wife's. He threwhimself prostrate on his face, and lay motionless. 

When Armstrong raised himself from the ground the storm had ceased, the clouds had left the sky, and the stars were shining brilliantly. He gazed around, then looked up into the blue vault. What were thoseinnumerable shining points? Were they worlds, as the learned havesaid? Were they inhabited by beings like himself, doomed to sin andsuffer? Did they suffer, more or less? Could the errors of a few yearsbe expiated by sufferings of ages, as countless as the grains ofsand on the seashore? He struck the palm of his hand violently on hisforehead; he threw out his arm, as if in defiance, toward heaven, andgroaned aloud. It seemed as though from every heaped-up grave thatgroan was echoed, and called to him like an invitation to join thehosts of darkness. He started, and looked again at the gruel sky. Butno voice of comfort was breathed thence. The silver stars were nowsparks of an universal conflagration. With a gesture of despair, heleft the city of the dead. 

Silence and darkness still shrouded the house of Mr. Armstrong on hisreturn. He closed the door quietly after him, and, cautiously ashe had descended, ascended the stairs, which, in spite of all hisprecaution, creaked under his feet. The sounds sent a thrill ofalarm through him as though he feared discovery. It was as if he werereturning from some guilty enterprise. Without striking a light, hethrew off his soaked garments, and got into bed. Strange, perhaps, tosay, he soon fell into a sleep, deeper and more refreshing than anyhe had for a long time enjoyed. It may be that the excitement of hissystem was worked off by rapid motion, and exposure to the night airand rain, or that nature, unable longer to endure it, sunk beneaththe tension. It was not until a late hour he arose, when he foundbreakfast awaiting him. After the usual greetings, Faith said:

"Here is your penknife, father, which Felix found lying on the paththis morning. You must have lost it from your pocket. "

Mr. Armstrong took the knife, without reply, and, when unobserved, dropped it into the fire. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

 Cities humming with a restless crowd Sordid as active, ignorant as loud, Whose highest praise is that they live in vain, The dupes of pleasure, or the slaves of gain. 

 COWPER. 

We have a little anticipated the order of events for the purpose ofpresenting more clearly the details of the story, it being after thedeparture of the Solitary and Pownal that some of them occurred. Thefavorable wind for which the packet Calypso had waited for two orthree days at last came, and with a flowing sheet the good sloop spedover the waters of the Severn. 

The means of communication between Hillsdale and the commercialcapital were very different in those days from the present. Insteadof the fine steamboats and railroad cars, which now connect thetwo places, the mode of travelling was by sailing vessels and stagecoaches. The latter were the surer--but not the more popular. In thewintry months, when the navigation of the river was unimpeded by ice, the condition of the roads was such that, in spite of the drearinessof water transit, at that season, the packets were able to maintaina fair rivalship with the coaches, while, in the summer, the latterstood but little chance in the competition, but were almost entirelydeserted. To this result the comfortable cabins of the coasters, designed for passengers (spacious and satisfactory for those times, however the refined effeminacy of the present generation might sneerat them), and the good fare they furnished, not a little contributed. The Calypso was one of the finest of the line of packets to which shebelonged, and provided with every convenience that could be desired. She was a sloop of some ninety or one hundred tons, with a tall mast, that, to the timid eye of a landsman, seemed fitter for a vessel oftwice her size, and when her enormous mainsail was raised and usualsail set, she looked more like one of those birds whose wings bearsuch a disproportion to the body, that in the contemplation we forgetto what they are attached, than like a safe and sea-worthy craft. Butthe shipwright who laid her keel and shaped her ribs, knew what he wasabout, and the Calypso was as staunch and stiff as she was handsome. Her cabin extended full one-half the length of the vessel, and bymeans of a raised quarter deck, was conveniently high between joints, so that even the tallest man ran no risk of striking his head. True, it was not embellished with gilding, and mahogany, and satinwood, butthe paint was virgin white, the state-rooms commodious, the berthswide, and the bedding and linen scrupulously clean. Captain Standishprided himself upon the comfort and propriety of his craft, and thegood reputation he enjoyed and deserved. The length of the passagevaried according to the state of the winds and tides. It might, underthe most favorable circumstances, be made in less than twenty-fourhours, and it might last a week. It was at a period of the world'sexistence, before steam and electricity had imparted a feverishimpatience to the community, and men did not hurry as if they had nottime enough to live. 

But let it not be thought, that it is as one who peevishly resents theimprovements made in mechanical and other departments of knowledge, wedwell upon these particulars. We are quite awake to the fact that theworld turns round, and although the consequence is an alternationof light and darkness, are satisfied with the change. With thephilosopher Pangloss we would rather believe, "_dans ce meilleur desmondes possible_, " than to entertain any less cheerful opinion. No. It is rather to perpetuate the remembrance of what has been, or toqualify more truthfully and modestly the expression, to save it for amoment longer from oblivion. It is with a melancholy pleasure thatone who has reached that stage of the journey of life, from whichhenceforth his progress can only be one of continued descent towardsthe valley whereon broods the cloud not untouched with rays ofdivine light, reverts to whatever, even though they may seem trifles, characterized the beginning of his career. Ah! it was the breaking ofthe morning. For a time the sky glowed with a deepening glory, to fadeat last into the "light of common day. " We never can, we never wouldforget that lovely dawning. 

Holden, nothing doubting, was confident that the voyage wouldterminate for him in the restoration to his arms, of the son whomhe had mourned as one dead. Nor did he seem to have a doubt of theworthiness of the long lost treasure. A hope, brilliant and beautiful, that glorified whatever it touched, had taken absolute possession ofhim. It would admit no fear, no uncertainty, no despondency. The newfeeling penetrated all departments of his mind, and mixed itself upwith and colored even his religious speculations. He began toconnect, in some way, the realization of his awakened hopes withthe millennium, of which it was to be a forerunner. This appearedespecially on the second day of the voyage, which lasted three days. 

It was a warm, bright afternoon in the latter part of the month ofMay, just before the setting of the sun, and Holden and Pownalhad walked to the bow of the vessel, as if to be nearer the goldenluminary when he should sink from sight. A gentle breeze filled thesails of the Calypso, the soft murmur from under whose cutwater seemedto testify to the delight with which she moved on her liquid way. Forsome time Holden had stood with folded arms, watching the sun, as byslow degrees he sunk into the waves. Pownal, himself, was thrillinglyalive to the magnificence of earth, and sky, and ocean, and all fairforms and hues of nature, and noticing the exalted and rapt expressionof his elder friend's face, and sympathizing in the influence thatproduced it, was in no mood to break the silence. 

"Type of the Infinite, " at last Pownal heard him say, "how haveI loved to watch thy coming and departure! Chariot of fire, whoseburning wheels support the throne of judgment, thy course is onwarduntil the fullness of the time is come. Of man's impatience thoureckest not. With thee a thousand years are as a day. "

He ceased speaking, and a total silence for some time succeeded. Hiseyes continued fixed upon the spot where the sun had disappeared, butthey saw nothing. An interior struggle was going on which engrossedthe faculties, and left no opportunity for the observation of externalobjects. Repeatedly he passed his hand over his eyes and forehead, pressing the palm forcibly, as if to concentrate the attention, and atlength he addressed Pownal. 

"The scoffers have long sat in the gate, and lolled out the tongue andcried aha! but of a surety the time draweth nigh. Because He delayeth, where, say they, is the promise of His coming? But doth a sparrow fallto the ground without His knowledge, and are not ye of more valuethan many sparrows, oh, ye of little faith? Shall not the sorrows offathers move the heart of the universal Father?"

It is scarcely to be expected that the young man entirely understoodthe rhapsody of Holden, though familiar with his moods. He saw, however, it had some connection with the one idea that had masteredall others, leaving them, notwithstanding, at perfect liberty, exceptso far as they interfered with itself. For it cannot have escapedobservation, that on all subjects but one Holden exercised an ordinarydegree of judgment, a circumstance by no means singular in the caseof persons affected with monomania. Pownal, therefore, did as hewas accustomed, avoiding all contradiction, and falling in with theother's thoughts. 

"That, " said Pownal, "it seems to me, is the worthiest name that canbe given to the Supreme Being. "

"It is the worthiest and the dearest. Thou, young man, canst knownothing of the emotions of a father's heart. Couldst thou look intoits abysses of tenderness a new world would be revealed to thee, of which now thou only dreamest. Not a drop of blood that wandereththrough its channels, but would coin itself into a joy for thebeloved. But what is human love to His, the Creator of love? A breath, a bubble, a sigh. One great heart comprehendeth in its embrace allhearts. Look around thee, " he added, throwing up his arms, "and beholdthe evidence: yon blue vault filled with bright worlds, bright becausethey are happy; this vast ocean teeming with strange life; the greenearth whence, as from an altar, the perfume of grateful flowers andchants of praising birds do ceaselessly arise. Young man, be thankfuland adore. "

Holden stopped, as if he expected a reply, and Pownal therefore said:

"I am not, I fear, sufficiently thankful for the favors ofProvidence. "

"'Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth, '" pursued the oldman. "How many evils had I escaped had I heeded the advice I give!But it is the old tale of human folly. The aged with his experience iscounted for nothing. My son, " he added impressively, laying his handon Pownal, "behold these furrows on a withered face. They are thetraces of unrestrained passion. I forgot my Creator in the days of myyouth. "

He turned and walked away, but presently retraced his steps and tookup the train of thought he seemed to have dropped. 

"But he forgot not me. His mercies are over all his works. Even when Iwas a great way off my Father saw me, and had compassion, and ran, andfell on my neck, and kissed me. And now will he put the best robe uponme, and a ring upon my finger, and shoes upon my feet. "

Such was the excited and hoping condition of Holden's mind as thevessel approached the port of New York, which it reached the nextmorning. Although then a place of great trade, and giving indubitablepromise of what it has since become, New York was far, very far fromapproaching its present splendor and magnificence, which entitle it tovie with the most brilliant capitals of the world. Even then the shipsof all nations were to be found at its wharfs, but the taper mastsrising into the sky, formed not a cordon so immense as that which now, like a forest stripped of its leaves, girts it round. Nor from evenits most fashionable portions, the residence and resort of the wealthyand the gay, had all the humbler buildings, which belonged to itsorigin, disappeared. Alongside of the modern brick, or occasionallystone mansion of four stories, that style of architecture, dear yet tothe heart of a genuine Knickerbocker of which Holland boasts, if notthe invention, at least the perfectioning, reared its pointed gable, and rose like Jacob's ladder with parapeted roof into the sky. Butslightly injured by weather in a climate singularly clear and pure, under a sky untarnished by the dismal clouds from bituminous coalfires, which enshroud less favored lands, the brave little Dutchbricks held their own with a sturdiness becoming their ancestry. Thosemonuments of a simpler age have almost disappeared, and the ingenuitythey exhibited, and the taste of which they were the specimens, arelikely soon to be remembered only as steps in the worlds pupilage. 

But, however the fashions of man may change, the grand features ofnature remain eternal. Beautifully bright then as now sparkled inthe light of the May morning sun, the waves of that glorious bay, unrivalled but by one, while little boats and pinnaces darting aboutin all direction like sea-birds, gave animation to a scene, whichwithout the accompaniment would have possessed peculiar interest toone who, like Holden, had lived so long in seclusion. As the vesselturned around Castle Garden to seek her berth in the North River, and his eyes ran over the islands and Jersey shore, and up the noblestream, and one by one he recognized the objects he had seen in hisyouth, it seemed as if feelings, supposed dead, were coming to life, and nature re-assuming the gala garb which she once wore. 

But, independent of the causes that made the scene peculiarlyattractive to our traveller, it is impossible to approach a large cityafter a long absence without excitement. The aggregation of a mass ofhuman beings full of life, and instinct with its hopes, and fears, and joys, and sorrows, and passions, acts like a stimulus. Nature isbeautiful, and art glorious, but the object of deepest interest toman is man himself. In his fellow beings he sees reflected his owninterior world, a world of mystery and marvel, whence any news iswelcome that will impart information respecting its light and shade, its harmonies and discords. He cannot stand outside, a looker-on, separate and apart, having no portion therein: he is in it and of it, an integral atom, a something which cannot be isolated if it would. 

The packet, after some delay, occasioned by the occupation of herberth by a casual trader, was finally able, by advancing one vessel, and pushing another back, and shoving a third on one side, to approachthe wharf at the foot of Courtlandt street, and land her passengers. A coach was presently procured, and Holden, who had been invitedby Pownal, accompanied his young friend. The distance up Courtlandtstreet, and down Broadway to the house of the elder Pownal, whichwas near the Battery, was short, and therefore even had thecarriage proceeded more leisurely, and the Recluse been disposedto observation, he could have seen but little, and that in anunsatisfactory manner. Pownal felt some curiosity respecting theimpression which would be made by the turmoil of a large city upon onewho for so many years had excluded himself from the crowded haunts ofmen, and therefore watched his companion with no little interest;but Holden, as if he divined his thoughts, and was displeased at thediscovery, or for some other unknown reason, betrayed no change offeeling, or conduct, but was as impassive and indifferent to allpassing around him as if he were in his own hut. So far from showingany emotion, he threw himself into a corner of the carriage, and shuthis eyes as if desirous to exclude objects of which he was regardless, or which only annoyed him. The young man knew not exactly how tointerpret the other's conduct, but was too much accustomed to hishabits to feel surprise, and respected him too greatly to desire tointrude into anything he wished to conceal. 

The carriage stopped before a fine, large brick mansion, worthy of amerchant prince, fronting the Battery, and, of course, commanding aview through the trees which shaded the greensward of that beautifulspot, of the blue water, and islands, and the Jersey shore sweepingaway in the distance. Fashion, always capricious in her movements, hasdeserted the lower part of Broadway and the Battery, by far the mostcharming quarter of the city, to emigrate to a part of the island onwhich New York is built, more remote from the marts of trade. Immensewarehouses occupy the sites where once stood the abodes of eleganceand hospitality, and the chaffer of traffic has succeeded to socialwelcomes and greetings of conviviality. 

The black servant who came to the door at the ringing of the bell, stared with astonishment at the unusual figure of Pownal's companion, but if disposed, as is the habit of his class, to be deficient inrespect to one not bearing the conventional stamp, a glance of theyoung man's eye, and his marked deference toward the stranger, to saynothing of the latter's natural air of authority, soon restored hiscourtesy and usual obsequious attention. It was, therefore, with agracious expression of countenance and polite bow, that Mr. Johnsonushered the two gentlemen into the parlor. 

"Where is Mr. Pownal, Johnson?" inquired the young man. 

"He is out of town, sir, with the whole family. I believe he went toAlbany, sir. "

"Is Mrs. Corning in the house?"

"Mrs. Corning is just come back from market, sir. I heard her voiceonly a minute ago. "

"Say, I would like to speak to her. "

In a few moments, Mrs. Corning, the housekeeper, a respectable-lookingwoman, of some forty-five years of age, made her appearance, andtestified a hearty pleasure at seeing the young man, whom she kissedwith great affection, and by whom she was received with every mark ofregard. 

The family, she said, in reply to the questions of Pownal, had beenabsent, at Albany, where they were, on a visit to some relatives, forthree weeks, but were daily expected home. She was _so_ sorry theywere absent. They were all well, and would be so glad to see himlooking so well. She thought she had never seen him looking better. There was nothing like country air to paint the cheeks. 

Pownal thought this a good opportunity to commend his friend to thefavorable consideration of the housekeeper, and said--

"That I am well, I probably owe to the kindness of this gentleman, who will remain with us during my stay in town, " at the same time, introducing Holden to the lady. 

"Your friends, Mr. Thomas, " said Mrs. Corning, courtesying to Holden, "will always be welcome in this house. But, tell me, have you beensick?--I'm sure, you don't look so--or some accident, or"----

"I will tell you all about it, by-and-by. At present, a cup ofcoffee. "

"My! what a thoughtless creature I am!" exclaimed Mrs. Corning. "Thepleasure of seeing you again, put all idea of breakfast out of mymind. I never thought of asking, if you had had any. But, it shan't belong before that mistake shall be remedied. "

So saying, good Mrs. Corning bustled out of the room, on hospitablethoughts intent, and, in a short time, the substantial comforts ofan American breakfast were smoking on the board. Pownal partook of itwith the liberal appetite of high health and youth sharpened by hislittle voyage, while Holden himself, though in far greater moderation, was not unmindful of the viands before him. His achievements, however, did not seem to satisfy the housekeeper, who vainly pressed herdelicacies upon him, and who, subsequently, after a more thoroughobservation of his character at meals, expressed her wonder, toPownal, whether the effect of a long beard was not to diminish theappetite!

CHAPTER XXX. 

 I met with scoffs, I met with scorns From youth, and babe, and hoary hairs, They called me in the public squares, The fool that wears a crown of thorns. 

 TENNYSON'S "IN MEMORIAM. "

It was without delay that Holden applied himself to the purpose ofhis visit to New York, in which he was seconded, to the best of hisability, by Pownal. All the time the young man could spare from hisown business he devoted to his friend, though fearful that there waslittle probability of succeeding in the search. But who, however, convinced of the futility of the inquiries, could refuse hisassistance to one engaged in an investigation of so deep and sacred aninterest, and who believed with an implicit faith in ultimate success?And such is the nature of enthusiasm, or a high-wrought faith, thatPownal himself could not refrain from entering with some degree ofspirit into an inquiry, which he felt would probably be in vain. 

Together they sought out, in the first place, the street indicated byEsther. Formerly an obscure part of the city, it had now become, bythose mutations which are constantly occurring, and nowhere with suchrapidity as in this country, a considerable rendezvous of trade. Byrare good luck, the name of the street had been preserved, and by luckstill rarer, the house itself, corresponding in all respects to thedescription by Esther. It was one of those ancient Dutch houses, ofwhich mention has been made, built of a yellowish brick, and standingwith its gable-end toward the street, its steep-pointed roof, constituting at least one-half of the building, rising with an air ofcommand, dominating the whole, and seeming, indeed, to be that portionto which all the other parts were only subsidiary, and constructed forits honor and glory. Neither Holden nor Pownal had, for an instant, doubted the honesty and truth of Esther, and yet it must be confessed, that the discovery of a building, so exactly corresponding with herdescription, added fresh fuel to the hopes of the former, and wasnot without influence on the latter. And yet, at a moment when, asit seemed to himself, he was about to realize his dear hopes--for theimagination of the Solitary leaped over all intervening difficulties, and, in the confusion of his mind, it almost appeared as if when thedoor opened, he should see and recognize his son--Holden laid his handon Pownal's arm, and arrested his steps. 

"Stay, " he said, "let me pause a moment, and recover my wanderingthoughts. There is a sound as of a tempest in my brain, and a confusednoise, as of a trampling of men and horses. "

He sat down on the stone step, as if unable to support himself, andrested his head on his hand. 

"Here, " he said, speaking to himself, with a trembling voice, "themerciful savage whose heart the Lord touched, left my child. Here hislittle feet trod, and against this wall his head rested. Would thatthese inanimate things could know my gratitude! But thou knowest it, O, all Merciful, my goodness, and my fortress, my high tower, and mydeliverer, my shield, and he in whom I trust. Lord, what is man thatthou takest knowledge of him! or the son of man, that thou makestaccount of him! Didst thou not, in the olden time, hear the voiceof the perishing child, Ishmael, and say, by thine angel, unto hisweeping mother, Fear not, for God hath heard the voice of the ladwhere he is. Arise, lift up the lad, and hold him in thine hand, forI will make him a great nation? Even so now hast thou done unto me andremembered me in my low estate, for thy mercy endureth for ever. "

Thus the father poured out his heart, alike unconscious of thegathering crowd, which his unusual appearance and strange language hadcollected around him, and of the observations they made. 

"I say, Haxall, " said a stout boy, whose dirty and ragged clothing, and vicious expression of face, proclaimed him one of thosepredestined candidates for the State Prison and gallows, bred totheir fate by the criminal neglect of the State, "I say, " he said, addressing his companion, as wicked looking as himself, "isn't it arum old covey. "

"Why the old cuss is a crying, " answered Haxall, "or, perhaps, it'sthe whisky leaking out he took for his morning bitters. "

"Whisky be d----d, " said the other. "He never got as far as that. It'snothing but sour cider. I can smell it. "

Here there was a brutal laugh, in which some of the bystanders, equally degraded, joined. 

"For shame, young men, " said a respectable-looking person, whosebroad-brimmed hat, and formal and amply cut clothing, proclaimed hima Quaker; "is an old man, in tears, a proper subject for ribaldry?It were better ye were engaged in some honest employment, than idlingaway your time, and disgracing yourselves by the use of profanelanguage. "

"Smoke the old quiz, Haxall, " cried the boy who had first spoken. "Heopens rich. Let's see what's in the prig. "

"Smoke him, smoke him, " cried several voices. 

Thus exhorted, Haxall jerking his cap jauntily on one side of hishead, throwing an additional quantity of impudence into his face, andplacing his hands on the hips, so that the elbows stuck out on eachside, approached the Quaker. 

"So you set yourself up for a preacher of righteousness, " he said; "doye? Well, you may preach away without asking my leave, or I'll give itto ye gratis, for nothing. That's cheap enough, I guess. Most ofyour sort, though, don't like to preach for nothing. So here's mycontribution to set you a going. " So saying, he held out a cent. "There's value received, " he added, "and, mind ye, ye give us apreachment equal to the consideration. But first, beloved brother, I've a question to ask. Up to the tip top of your judgment, now do youthink your regimentals is just the right thing, and no mistake?Did Saint Paul and Saint, Saint, d----n the fellows, I forget theirnames"----

"Saint Tammany, " suggested his companion. 

"I owe you a drink for that, Bill, " said Haxall. "Yes, Saint Tammany. Now, do you think them gentlemen, who I've heard, was real respectablemen, though it was rather a comedown to take to preaching, eversported such an infernal broadbrim as that, or turned out a tail asbroad as yours?"

The Quaker gentleman, who, at the commencement of the young scamp'sspeech, as if frightened at the prospect of a colloquy he hadprovoked, had betrayed a desire to escape from the crowd, seemed, asthe other proceeded, to have changed his mind, and listened to himwith the utmost calmness and imperturbable good humor. When the boyhad got through with his impertinences, which he ran over with greatvolubility, garnishing them with many epithets we have omitted, and, at the close, had received the applause of those like him, who stoodaround, and, now, seemed waiting for a reply, the Quaker, with greatsweetness, answered--

"My young friend, it would ill become me to return a harsh word forthy rather rude address, nor will my feelings towards thee and all inthy unhappy condition, permit me to speak to thee, except in pity andin sorrow. "

"Go to h----l with your pity. Nobody asks you for it, " exclaimedHaxall, fiercely. 

"Gently, boy, gently, and do not profane thy lips with such language. Alas! thou hast been allowed to grow up like a wild animal, andcanst not be expected to know there are those who regard thee withaffection. But, surely, goodness can never be quite extinguished inone who has the form of humanity. I see thou dost not know me?"

"Never set eyes on ye before, old square toes, and be d----d to you. "

"Yet, I know thee, and, perhaps, the guilt is partly mine that thouart even now what thou art. Thou hast, then, forgotten the man who, only a year ago, jumped off Coenties Slip, and, by the kindness ofProvidence, rescued a boy from drowning?"

"Have I forgot!" exclaimed Haxall, with a sudden revulsion of feeling. "No, d----d me, not altogether. I thought there was something devilishqueer in your voice. So you was the man, and I am the b'hoy. Oh, what a cussed beast I am to insult you! Give us your hand. I askyour pardon, sir. I ask your pardon. And, " he added, looking fiercelyround, "if there's a man here who crooks his thumb at ye, I swear I'llwhip him within an inch of his life. "

"Swear not at all, " said the mild Quaker, "nor talk of fighting, asif thou wert a dog. I see, notwithstanding thy coarseness and vilelanguage, thou art not all evil, and, if thou wilt come with me, I will endeavor to repair my former neglect, by putting thee in asituation where thou mayst become an useful man. "

The boy hesitated. Two impulses seemed to be drawing him in oppositedirections. He was afraid of the ridicule of his companion, and of thesneer which he saw on his face, and who, now, was urging him to leavewith him. Yet, there was something peculiarly attractive about theQuaker that was difficult to resist. 

The good Quaker read the indecision of his mind, and understood thecause. "Come, " he said, "be a man, and choose for thyself like a man. Thou shalt remain with me only so long as thou wilt, and shalt be freeto leave at thy pleasure. "

"That's fair, " said Haxall. "I'll go with you, sir. Goodbye, Bill, " heexclaimed, turning to his companion, and extending his hand. ButBill, thrusting both his hands into his pockets, refused the hand, andanswered contemptuously--

"If you've turned sniveller, go and snivel with Broadbrim. I'venothing to say to such a mean-spirited devil. "

"You're a mean devil yourself, " retorted Haxall, all his fierypassions kindling at the other's taunt. 

"Come, my young friend, " said the gentleman, drawing him away gently, "return not railing for railing. I trust the time may yet come, whenreproach, instead of exciting anger, will only be an incentive toexamine thy bosom more closely, to see if thou dost not deserve it. "

Long before the conclusion of this conversation, the original causeof it had entered the house with Pownal, and, upon his departure, thelittle crowd had gradually dispersed, so that, when the benevolentQuaker left, with the boy whom he hoped should be a brand plucked fromthe burning, very few persons remained. Bill followed his departingcompanion with a scornful laugh, but the latter--as if his goodangel stood by his side to strengthen him--had resolution enough todisregard it. 

When Holden and Pownal entered the house, the front part of which wasused as a shop, they were received with great civility by a woman whowas officiating at the counter, and, upon their desire to speak withher husband, were shown by her into a back room, used as a parlor, andrequested to be seated. Her husband, she said, had stepped out a shorttime since, though, already, gone longer than she expected, and wouldcertainly be back in a few moments. Her prophecy was correct, for, sure enough, they were hardly seated before he made his appearance. 

He appeared to be an intelligent person, and answered withoutsuspicion or hesitation to the best of his ability, all the questionsaddressed to him, so soon as he understood their object. But hisinformation was exceedingly limited. He knew nothing at all about aperson who had occupied the house more than twenty years before--norwas it, indeed, reasonable to suppose he should. In all probabilitythe number of tenants was almost as great as of the years that hadsince elapsed: the name mentioned to him was a very common one: manysuch were to be found in the Directory, and the chances were thatthe house itself had repeatedly changed owners in a community sochangeable and speculating. If the gentlemen would allow him tosuggest, the best course would be to examine the records in theRegister's office, and trace the title down to the time desired. In this way the name of the owner could, without difficulty, bediscovered, and if he were alive he might, perhaps, be able to informthem what had become of the person who was his tenant at the time, although that was hardly probable. 

The suggestion was plainly sensible, and had, indeed, occurred toPownal from the beginning, and he had accompanied Holden that morningmore for the purpose of determining whether the house described byEsther, still existed, than with the expectation of making any furtherdiscovery. His anticipations had been more than realized; a favorablebeginning had been made; there was every inducement to prosecutethe search. When, therefore, Holden and Pownal thanked the obligingshopkeeper for his politeness, and took their leave, both felt thattheir morning had not been thrown away, though the condition of theirminds was somewhat different, the former being confident of success, the latter hoping for it. 

"I will call at the Register's office, " said the young man, "anddirect an examination to be made of the records. We shall be able toobtain the result to-morrow, and until then you must endeavor to amuseyourself, my dear friend, as well as possible. You know I sympathizewith your impatience, and shall expedite our search with alldiligence, and heaven grant it a happy termination. "

Pownal saw that the search was made at the office of the Register, andthe title traced through several persons to the period when the housewas occupied by the man named by Esther. Upon further inquiry it wasascertained that the proprietor at that time was still alive, and oneof the principal citizens of the place. Holden lost no time in callingupon him, but was doomed to disappointment. He was received, indeed, with great urbanity by the gentleman, one of the old school, whoproffered every aid in his power, and made an examination of hispapers to discover the name of his tenant. He was successful in thesearch, and found that the name was the same given by Esther, but whathad become of the man he was unable to say. 

Holden now determined to make the inquiry of every one of the samename as that of the person sought. The search he pursued with all theardor of a vehement nature, stimulated by the importance of an objectthat lay so near his heart. There was no street, or alley, or lane, where there was the slightest chance of success, unvisited by hisunwearied feet. And varied was the treatment he received in thatpersevering search: by some met with contempt and insult as a crazyold fool, whose fittest place was the lunatic asylum, and who oughtnot to be allowed to prowl about the streets, entering people's housesat unseasonable hours and plaguing them with foolish questions: byothers with a careless indifference, and an obvious desire to be ridof him as soon as possible, but to the honor of human nature, be itsaid, by most with sympathy and kindness. It was, moreover, usuallyamong the poorer, that when it was necessary to mention the reasonof his inquiry, he was treated with the most gentleness andconsideration. Whether it is that suffering had taught them feelingfor others' woes, while prosperity and worldly greed had hardened thehearts of the richer, let the reader determine. And, again, it wasupon the women his tale made the tenderest impression. Whatever maybethe condition of woman, however sad her experience in life, howeverdeplorable her lot, however low she may be sunk in degradation, it ishard to find one of her sex in whom sensibility is extinguished. Withher, kindness is an instinct. The heart throbs of necessity to a storyof sorrow, and the eye overflows with pity. 

But the diligence of Holden was in vain, and, at last, he was obligedto confess that he knew not what further to do, unless he took hisstaff in hand and wandered over the world in prosecution of hissearch. 

"And that will I do, Thomas, " he said, as one day he returned from hisinquiry, "if naught else can be done. My trust is in the Lord, and Hedoth not mock. He despiseth not the sighing of the heart, nor hath Hemade the revelation and put this confidence into my mind in vain. Iknow in whom I have trusted, and that He is faithful and true. "

Whatever might have been the opinion of Pownal, he was incapable ofuttering a word to discourage Holden, or of inflicting unnecessarypain. "Why should I, " he said, "dampen his enthusiasm? Small, as seemsto me, the chance of ever discovering his son, it is, after all, mereopinion. Things more wonderful than such a discovery have happened. Byme, at least, he shall be sustained and encouraged. Disappointment, ifit comes, will come soon enough. I will not be its ill-omened herald. "He, therefore, said, in reply--

"Esther's story is certainly true. Our researches corroborate itstruth. We have found the house, and a person of the name she gave, didlive in it at the time she mentioned. "

"They satisfy thee, Thomas; but I have a more convincing proof--aninternal evidence--even as the sure word of prophecy. It speaks to melike a sweet voice, at mine uprising and lying down, and bids me bestrong and of good cheer, for the day of deliverance draweth nigh. Doubt not, but believe that, in His good time, the rough places shallbe made smooth, and the darkness light. And yet, shall I confessit unto thee, that, sometimes, a sinful impatience mastereth me? Iforget, that the little seed must lie for a time in the earth, andnight succeed day and day night, and the dew descend and the rainfall, and the bright sun shine, and his persuasive heat creep into thebosom of the germ before its concealed beauty can disclose itself, and the lovely plant--the delight of every eye--push up its coronalof glory. But, it is a transitory cloud, and I cry, Away! and itdeparteth, and I say unto my heart, Peace, be still, and know that Iam God!"

"It would seem, " said Pownal, "that there is often a connectionbetween the presentiments of the mind and an approaching event. Howfrequently does it happen, for instance, that one, without knowingwhy, begins to think of a person, and that, almost immediately, theperson will present himself. 

"It is the shadow of approaching destiny, and men have moulded thefact into a proverb. There is a world of truth in proverbs. Theyenclose, within a small space, even as a nut its kernel, a sum ofhuman experience. In the case thou citest, may it not be that the mandoth project a sphere of himself, or subtle influence, cognizable byspirit, albeit, the man be himself thereof unconscious? But know thatit is no vague and uncertain emotion that I feel. I tell thee youngman, I have heard the voice as I hear thee, and seen the visionclearer than in dreams. Naught may stay the wheel of destiny. AnAlmighty arm hath whirled it on its axis, and it shall revolve untilHe bids it stop. "

Thus, unfaltering in his confidence, secure of the result, believingthat to himself a revelation had been made, the Solitary expressedhimself. As the blood mounted into his ordinarily pale cheeks, hislips quivered and his eyes were lighted up with a wild enthusiasm, Pownal could not but admire and acknowledge the omnipotence ofthat faith which regards no task as arduous, and can say unto themountains, Be ye cast into the sea! and it is done. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

 Oh my soul's joy! If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have wakened death! And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas Olympus-high, and duck again as low As hell's from heaven. OTHELLO. 

In accordance with the determination he had expressed, Holden begansoon to talk about putting his wild plan of roaming through the worldinto execution, and was withheld from it only by the entreaties ofPownal, that he would at least postpone it until after the arrivalof his uncle, who was daily expected, and until they had taken hisadvice. 

"I consent, " said Holden, "both out of love to thee, and becauseI would not willingly leave a roof that hath protected me, withoutgiving thanks to its owner. "

A few days afterwards, Mr. Pownal returned with his family, by allof whom the young man was welcomed with every evidence of the warmestregard. Holden, too, as the friend of the younger Pownal, came in fora share of attention. The family consisted of the father and mother, and two children, a boy and girl, the former of whom could not bemore than ten years of age, while the latter was probably two yearsyounger. 

Mr. Pownal himself was a fine, frank, hearty gentleman of some sixtyyears, whose appearance indicated that the world had gone well withhim, and that he was satisfied with the world. The ordinary expressionof his face was that of quiet contentment, though at times it betrayeda keen sagacity and shrewdness, partly the revelation of nature, andpartly the product of an intimate intercourse with that world withwhich his business brought him, in various ways, in contact. It washowever apparent, that however much the associations and experiencesof trade had sharpened his intellect, they had not tarnished thenatural goodness of his heart. That spoke in the frank tones of hismanly voice and shone in the light of his clear blue eyes. One couldhardly look at him without a conviction that he was a man to betrusted, and a desire to grasp his hand in friendship. Holden felt theinfluence at the introduction, and no mean judge of character himself, was glad to make the acquaintance. 

Mrs. Pownal was by several years the junior of her husband, and in allrespects different from him. Her hair and eyes were raven-black, hercomplexion dark and saturnine, and she wore an expression of careinconsistent with enjoyment. She had been for many years a childlesswife, and it may be that early disappointment, occasioned by the wantof children, uniting with a melancholy temperament, had imparted anappearance of dejection which the subsequent birth of a boy and girlafter she had given up the expectation of offspring, was unable toremove. She seldom smiled, and when she did, the smile played over hercountenance like the sickly gleam of a wintry clay through clouds, and seemed rather to chill than to warm what before was cold. It was aformal tribute to the customs of society, not the spontaneous outburstof joy. She presented the tips of her fingers with all the grace ofan accomplished lady, to Holden, and meant that her reception of himshould be kind, but the hand was cold, and apparently as unfeeling asmarble, and the Solitary dropped it as soon as touched. And yet Mrs. Pownal had feeling. 

The first few days after the return of the Pownals was spent by themin gathering up those threads of relationship by which people areconnected with society. Even a short absence from home inducessometimes the necessity of paying and receiving many visits, proportioned to the extent of the circle in which the parties move. The visiting circle of the Pownals was large, and hence the longertime was required. Besides, the business pursuits of the merchantengrossed some hours each day, though as the head of a large house inwhich there were several younger partners, he claimed and enjoyed allthe leisure he desired. For these reasons young Pownal had found nofitting opportunity to speak in the presence of Holden of the purposewhich brought the Solitary to the city, and besides, he did notwish to do so, until the time should arrive for his own returnto Hillsdale, when he hoped, with the assistance of his uncle, topersuade him to return home. But the business of the young man was atlast completed, and he was ready to retrace his steps. 

It was then one evening when both Mr. And Mrs. Pownal were present, and immediately preceding the day when he had announced his intentionto depart, that Holden, at the solicitation of young Pownal, supportedby the courteous entreaties of his uncle, narrated the events of hislife, which are already known to the reader, and avowed with thatunshaken trust in Providence, which in all circumstances sustainedhim, his resolution to beg his way through the world on his sacredsearch. His hosts had become, by this time, so accustomed to the fieryenthusiasm and antique diction of his discourse, that they no longerexcited their surprise, but as he proceeded with his tale, theattention of both seemed arrested by a strange fascination. Even thefigure of Mrs. Pownal lost its listlessness. Her black eyes becameriveted on the speaker. She bent forward, with parted lips, asif unwilling to lose a word, while from time to time glances ofintelligence passed between the husband and wife, which neither Pownalnor Holden were able to understand. 

"Thus far, " said the enthusiast, in conclusion, "the Lord hath led meon. By flood and fire, and in battle He hath preserved a life, thatlong was wearisome to me. But in these latter days, He hath awakeneda new hope, and given me an assurance thereof which I can better feelthan tell. He hath not prolonged my life for naught. Behold, I knowassuredly, that the child liveth, and that in my flesh, I shall seeHis salvation. Therefore, in obedience to the inner voice, will I girdup my loins, and after thanking you my friends, for the bread we havebroken together, and the roof that hath sheltered the wanderer's head, will I proceed upon my way. "

He rose and strode across the room, as if to put his design intoinstant execution, but the voice of the elder Pownal arrested him. 

"Stay, " he said, "and listen. Your steps have indeed, been wonderfullydirected. I can give you, perhaps, some information, about this JohnJohnson, with whom the boy was left. "

Holden stopped but made no motion to return. He seemed to hear andunderstand the words, but to be uncertain whence they proceeded. Hiseyes were cast up and fixed on vacancy. At last he said, still gazingin the air. "Speak Lord for thy servant heareth. "

Mr. Pownal approached, and taking Holden by an arm, led him gently tothe sofa, and took a seat by his side. Mrs. Pownal said not a word, but threw her arms round young Pownal's neck, and sobbed upon hisbosom. 

The young man, unable to divine a reason for such unusual emotion, could only silently return the caress and wait for an explanation. 

"I knew a person of the name, " said Mr. Pownal, "but he has been deadmany years. "

"But the child, but the child, " exclaimed Holden, "he is yet alive!"

"I do not doubt he is alive, I am confident we shall be able todiscover him. Your trust in Providence is not misplaced. "

"Tell me, " cried Holden, a little sternly, "what thou knowest of theboy. My soul travaileth sore, and hope and doubt rend me in twain. "

"Hold fast your hope my friend, " said Mr. Pownal, "for all will yetbe well. Prepare yourself to hear what, without preparation, mightovercome your strength. "

"Fear not, " said Holden. "Yet alas! who knoweth his own heart? But amoment ago, I thought myself as an iron mountain, and now am I weakerthan the untimely birth. "

"Eliza, " said Mr. Pownal turning to his wife, "bring the token youpreserved. "

During the absence of his wife, Mr. Pownal endeavored to prepare themind of the Solitary for the joyful discovery he was about to make. It was now, too, that Holden perceived, from the agitation of hisfeelings, that he was weak, like other men, and that with whateverhope and confidence and calmness he might contemplate the prospectof distant happiness, its near approach shook him like a reed. Mrs. Pownal presently returned, with a coral necklace in her hand, andpresented it to Holden. 

"Do you recognize it?" she said. 

He took it into his hands, and as if overcome by the violence of hisemotions, was unable to speak a word. He gazed steadily at it, hislips moved but made no sound, and tears began to fall upon the fadedcoral. At last, with broken utterance, he said:

"The last time my eyes beheld these beads they were upon the neck ofmy dear child. They were the gift of his mother, and she hung themaround his neck. Examine the clasp and you will find S. B. , theinitials of her maiden name, engraved upon it. My tears blind mysight. "

"They are, indeed, upon the clasp, " said Mrs. Pownal, who appearedto have a greater control over herself than her husband over hisfeelings: "we have often seen them, but little did we expect theywould ever contribute to the discovery of the parentage of ourdear"----

She turned to young Pownal, and threw her arms again about his neck. 

"Come hither, Thomas, " said Mr. Pownal, "the necklace was taken fromyour neck. This is your father. Mr. Holden, embrace your son. "

The young man rushed to his father, and threw himself at his feet. Holden extended his hands, but the sudden revulsion of high wroughtfeeling was more than he could bear. The color fled face and lips, andhe fell forward insensible into the arms of his long lost son. 

"I feared it would be so, " said Mr. Pownal; "but joy seldom kills. See, " he added, after Mrs. Pownal had sprinkled some water in the faceof the gasping man, "he is recovering. He will soon be himself again. "

Restored to consciousness, Holden clasped his recovered son to hisbosom, and kissed his cheeks, while the young man returned with warmthhis demonstrations of affection. Pownal, we have seen, had been fromthe first attracted to the Solitary, either by the noble qualities hediscovered in him, or from the interest he felt in his romanticmode of life, or from that mysterious sympathy of consanguinity, theexistence of which is asserted by some, and denied by others. Hewas, therefore, prepared to receive with pleasure the relationship. Besides, it was a satisfaction to find his father in one, who, howeverpoor his worldly circumstances, and whatever his eccentricities, wasevidently a man of education and noble mind. For the young man washimself a nobleman of nature, who had inherited some of the romanceof his father, and, indeed, in whom were slumbering, unconsciously tohimself, many traits of character like those of the father, and whichneeded only opportunity to be developed. 

The first words Holden uttered, after recovering from his emotionsufficiently to speak, were:

"Lord! now let thou thy servant depart, for mine eyes have seen thysalvation. "

"Do not talk of departing, " said Mr. Pownal. "It seems to me now isthe very time to stay. Many years of happiness are in store for you. "

"But, " said Holden, "tell me, thou who hast conferred an obligationthat can never be repaid, and restored as it were the dead to life, how didst thou become the preserver of my child?"

But a few words are necessary to answer Holden's questions. As thehappy father sat with his arm over his son's neck, Mr. Pownal relatedthe following particulars. 

"The John Johnson, of whom Esther the squaw told you, " said Mr. Pownal, "was some nineteen or twenty years ago a porter in the employof our house. He was an honest, industrious man, who remained in ourservice until his death, which happened two or three years after theevent I am about to relate, and enjoyed our confidence to the last. Itwas in the Spring--the month I do not recollect--when he came to thecounting-room and desired to speak with me in private. He told me thaton the previous evening he had found a child, dressed in rags, asleepupon the steps of his house, and that to preserve it from perishing hehad taken it in. His own family was large, and he was a poor man, elsehe would willingly keep it. He knew not exactly what to do, and as hewas in the habit of consulting me when in any difficulty, he thoughthe had better do so now. It was a pretty lively little boy, but soyoung that though beginning to speak it was unable to give any accountof itself. 

"While Johnson was speaking a plan came into my mind, which I hadthought of before, and it seemed as if the child were providentiallysent in order to enable me to accomplish it. The truth is, that I hadbeen married for several years, and the merry voice of no child ofmy own had gladdened my home and I had given up the expectation ofchildren. Loving them dearly, it occurred to me to adopt some child, and rear it as my own. The feelings of Mrs. Pownal were the sameas mine, and we had often talked over the subject together, butone circumstance and another, I can hardly tell what they were, hadpostponed the execution of our purpose from day to day. I thereforesaid to Johnson that I would attend him home and see the child, afterwhich I should be better able to give him advice. Accordingly wewent together to his house, which I recollect was the very one youdescribed as having visited in your search in William street. There Ifound the little waif, a bright eyed boy of some three or four yearsof age, though his cheeks were pale and thin, as if he had alreadyknown some suffering. He wore around his neck the coral beads youhave in your hand, which seemed to me at the time to have been left inorder to facilitate a recognition. The appealing look and sweet smilewith which he gazed into my eyes, as if demanding protection, was, inthe condition of my feelings, more than I could withstand, and I tookhim home and gave him to my wife. She seemed equally pleased withmyself, and for a time we reared him as a child of our own. Richly hashe repaid our love, and you may well be proud of such a son. But someten years afterwards, to our surprise, for we had given up all hopeof such a blessing, Heaven gave us a son, and two years after thata daughter. The birth of the children altered, in some respects, ourcalculations, and I thought it necessary to communicate to Thomas thefact that he was not my son, but promising that he should ever be tome as one, and leaving it to be inferred from the identity of name, for I had given him my own, that he was a relative. He has more thanonce endeavored to penetrate the mystery, but I have always shrunkfrom revealing it, although determined that at some time or anotherhe should be made acquainted with it, and with that view, to guardagainst the contingencies of sudden death, prepared a narrative of theevents I am relating, which is at this moment in my desk addressed tohim. Mr. Holden, " concluded Mr. Pownal, and his voice choked for aninstant, "I can wish you no higher good fortune than that the youth, who, if not the offspring of my loins, is the son of my affection, maybe to you a source of as much happiness as he has been to me. "

Moved to tears the young man threw himself into the arms of hisbenefactor, and in broken words murmured his gratitude. 

"Ah!" cried he, "you were always so indulgent and so kind, dear sir!Had it not been for, you, what should I have been to day?"

"Nay, Thomas, " said Mr. Pownal, "you have conferred a benefit greaterthan you received. You filled a void in hearts that were aching foran object of parental love, and for years were the solitary beam ofsunshine in a household that would else have been desolate and dark. And had I not interposed, other means would have been found to restoreyou to your proper sphere. There is that in you, my son--let me stillcall you by the dear name--that under any circumstances would haveforced its way, and elevated you from darkness into light, fromobscurity into distinction. "

Young Pownal cast his eyes upon the carpet, and blushed like a girl atthe recital of his praises. No words came to his assistance, but thedeep voice of his father relieved him from his embarrassment. 

"It may be true what thou sayest, angel of the Lord, " he said, addressing Mr. Pownal, "thou who hast been even as a cloud by day, anda pillar of fire by night, to guide the lad through the wilderness ofthe world, but not the less are our thanks and eternal gratitudedue to thee as the chosen instrument to accomplish His will. Maythe blessing of the Lord God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, of Him whocalled unto Moses out of the burning bush, of Him who is the root andthe offspring of David, the bright and morning Star, rest andabide with thee and thy house for ever. And thou, madam, " he added, approaching Mrs. Pownal with a dignity and grace that caused hissingular appearance to be quite overlooked, "how shall he, who is anoutcast no longer, thank thee?" He pressed his hand upon his heart, asif to restrain its beating, then bending over and taking her hand intohis own, kissed it with the devotion of a devotee. "Blessed be thouabove women. The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble, and fulfill allthy desire. Thou didst pity and shalt be pitied: thou wast mercifuland shalt receive mercy. 'Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least ofthese little ones, ye did it unto me, ' saith Christ. "

"We are abundantly compensated, Mr. Holden, " observed Mrs. Pownal, feeling it incumbent to say something, and yet at a loss what to say. "Mr. Pownal has expressed my feelings better than I can myself. But, Thomas, you shall still be our son, for all these disclosures. "

"Mother! mother!" cried Pownal, kneeling by her side, and kissing thelips she offered to his, "you shall always be my dear mother, as longas you permit me to call you so. Oh, how little have I known howmuch I was indebted to you, and my second father. I have dreamed andwondered, but the imagination still fell short of the truth. "

"Thou hast received an obligation, my son, " said Holden, "whichall thy love and devotedness can never repay, and the claims of thyparents by kindness are stronger than mine. To me thou owest life, to them its preservation and honorable station. Thou wilt give me thelove thou hast to spare, but to them belongs the greater portion. "

"We will be content with equal parts, " said Mr. Pownal, smiling. "Inthis partnership of affection none must claim a superior share. "

"Strange!" exclaimed Holden, fastening his eyes on his son, andspeaking, as was his wont sometimes, as to himself, "that the fulltruth broke not on me before. The heart yearned to him, he was as abright star to me; his voice was the music of the forest to my ears;his eyes were as a sweet dream, a vanished happiness, but I understoodnot. It is plain now. It was the voice of my Sarah I heard: they wereher eyes that looked into my heart through his. And was it not thyprompting, mysterious Nature, that inclined him to me? Was there nota dim revelation, that I was more to him than other men? Else whydelighted he in the society of a lone, wayward man like me? Lord GodAlmighty, no man knoweth the ordinances of heaven, nor can he set thedominion thereof upon the earth!"

CHAPTER XXXII. 

 Welcome pure thoughts, welcome ye silent groves. These guests, these courts my soul most dearly loves: Now the winged people of the sky shall sing My cheerful anthems to the gladsome spring. 

 QUOTED BY IZAAK WALTON, AS BY SIR HARRY WOTTON. 

No reason seemed now to exist for Holden's impatience to depart, yethe longed for the quiet of his hut on the island. The excitement ofhis feelings, which, while it acted as a stimulus, sustained him, had passed away, and the ordinary consequences of overtasking naturefollowed. Besides, he had lived so long in solitude, that any othermode of life was to him unnatural, and especially the roar and tumultof a populous place, disturbed him. The loudest sounds to which hehad been accustomed were the rippling of the tide on the beach, or thesigh of the wind, and the songs of birds; and the difference betweenthem and the noises he now heard, formed a contrast equally harsh anddiscordant. But by no word did he betray his wish. Both Mr. And Mrs. Pownal were desirous to delay the departure of himself and son, and itseemed to him ingratitude to act in any respect in opposition to theinclinations of persons to whom he was so greatly indebted. Several days, therefore, passed after the happening of the eventsrecapitulated in the last chapter, and yet he remained in New York. But his feelings could not escape the observation of his son. Betteracquainted than their host and hostess with the peculiarities of hisfather, he seized an opportunity to speak of the necessity of a speedyfarewell. 

"You are right, I do not doubt, Thomas, " said Mr. Pownal, in reply tothe observation of the young man, "and yet I never felt so loth to letyou go. While with me you seem still in some wise to belong to me, andI feel a reluctance to lose you out of my sight. "

"Do you think it possible, " exclaimed young Pownal--whom his father, out of a sentiment of delicacy towards his friends, had insistedshould be called by the name of his preserver, he had so long borne, for which reason we shall continue to use it--"do you think itpossible I can ever forget how deeply I am indebted, that I shall evercease to love you with all the affection of a son, on whom you havelavished every possible kindness?"

"No; I have no fear of that. It is only the pain of parting from whichI shrink. As we grow older we cling with the greater tenacity, and, perhaps, selfishness, to the enjoyments that are left. But this willnever do. I must think more of you, and less of myself. I have somequestions to ask, and something besides to say before you leave forHillsdale, and this is as good an opportunity, probably, as we shallhave, so take a seat by me, and we will enter upon business. "

Pownal, who hitherto had remained standing, now took a seat bythe side of his benefactor, and waited for him to continue theconversation. 

"Are you satisfied, " inquired Mr. Pownal, "with your situation atHillsdale?"

"Perfectly, " replied the young man. "My time has passed very happilythere. "

"I meant it, " continued Mr. Pownal, "only as an interlude. I sentyou thither for the purpose of making you better acquainted with thebranches of our business, intending to leave it to your choiceeither to remain or return to the city, and resume your place in thecounting-house. I confess, the latter would suit me better, becauseyou would be nearer to me; but consult your inclinations, and I shallbe satisfied. "

"My dear sir, " said Pownal, with some little hesitation, "you arealways kind, and since you leave it to my choice, I hope it will notoffend you if I say, that for the present I should prefer to remain atHillsdale. "

"It is not at all surprising that you should wish to be with yourfather, whom, in so wonderful a manner, you have discovered, " answeredMr. Pownal. "I am delighted with him, and his noble qualities must berestored to the world. We must find means to induce him to conquer hisrepugnance to society and its habits. "

"I hope for such a result, " said the young man, "but he is evidentlynow uneasy and pining for solitude. "

"'Time and I against any two, ' says the Spanish proverb. I'll be boundwe will metamorphose him yet. Do you think the business at Hillsdaleis capable of much extension?"

"I am sure of it. It may easily be doubled, and safely. I will giveyou my reasons for the opinion now, if you wish. "

"Never mind for the present. It after all can make no difference inwhat I am about to say. I have been looking at your balance-sheet, andmust say that, for a first year's business, you have done remarkablywell. You have made very few bad debts, the sales are large, andprofits satisfactory. You have the merchant in you, Thomas, and I musttry to secure you for us beyond the power of loss. How would you liketo become a member of the firm?"

"Sir, " said Pownal, "your goodness overpowers me. No father could bemore generous. You will do with me as you please. But what say yourpartners?"

"I have consulted with them, and they are of the same opinion asmyself, and desire your admission. I have drawn up the terms, which, I hope, will please you, on this slip of paper, and that you may startto a little better advantage, have directed a small sum to be carriedto your credit on the books, which you will also find jotted down onthe paper. "

"How can I thank you, sir?" said Pownal, receiving the paper, andpreparing, without examining it, to place it in his pocket. 

"But that is not like a merchant, " exclaimed Mr. Pownal smiling, "toaccept of a contract without looking at it. Read it, Thomas, and seeif you wish to suggest any change. "

"I am willing to trust my interests, my life, to you, sir, and it isunnecessary. But it is your command and I obey you. "

We must allow, that the thought of becoming at some time a member ofthe firm, wherein he had received his mercantile education, had passedbefore through the mind of Pownal, but the conditions upon which hewas now admitted were favorable beyond his most sanguine expectations. The sum of money, too, carried to the credit of his account as acapital, on which to commence, deserved a better name than that ofa small sum, which the opulent merchant had called it. Pownal sawhimself now at once elevated into a condition, not only to supply thewants of his father and himself, but to warrant him to cherish hopesfor the success of other plans that lay very near his heart. As thethought of Anne Bernard occurred to him, and he reflected upon thegoodness of his generous benefactor, it seemed, to his ingenuous mind, as if he were half guilty of a wrong in withholding any part of hisconfidence from Mr. Pownal, and he felt strongly tempted to admit himinto the inner sanctuary of his soul. But a feeling natural in suchcases, and the consideration that he was not perfectly sure hisaffection was returned by Anne, restrained him, and he contentedhimself with repeating his thanks for a generosity so much exceedinghis hopes. 

"Nay, " said the merchant, "I must be the judge of these things. Thismay do to begin with. When you are married I will double it. "

The tell-tale cheeks of Pownal excited the suspicions of the oldgentleman, whose eyes were fastened on him as he spoke. 

"Ah, ha!" cried he, laughing, "have I found you out, Thomas? I do notbelieve, on the whole, the bribe will be necessary. I understand nowyour enthusiasm about the beauties of Hillsdale. But never blush. There's no harm in possessing good taste. I was in love twenty timesbefore I was your age. When shall the wedding be, eh?"

"My dear sir, " said Pownal smiling, "it will be time enough yearshence, to think of these things. In a matter of this kind, I know ofno better example to follow, than your own. "

"No, no, no, Thomas, do not imitate me there; I postponed my happinesstoo long, and were I to commence life again, I should not crawl withsuch a snail's pace towards it as formerly. But I have no fear of youor that my joints will be too stiff to dance on the joyful occasion. "

The parting was such as might be expected between persons broughttogether under circumstances so singular, where on the one side therewas a sense of obligation, it was a pleasure to cherish, and on theother, the yet higher gratification of conferring happiness. As Holdenwrung the hand of Mr. Pownal who accompanied them to the vessel, thatwas to take them home, he invoked, in his enthusiastic way, ablessing upon his head. "The Almighty bless thee, " he exclaimed, "withblessings of Heaven above, and blessings of the deep that lieth under. May thy bow abide in strength, and the arms of thy hands be madestrong by the hands of the mighty God of Jacob. "

Knowing how little his father prized the things of this world. Pownalhad not communicated to him before their departure the liberal conductof the noble merchant they had just left, but now, in a conversationone day, in which they reviewed the past, and, notwithstanding theSolitary's faith in the speedy coming of a mighty change, speculatedon the future, he disclosed the last evidence of the affection of hispreserver. Holden listened with a gratified air, for how could he beotherwise than pleased that the worth and amiable qualities of hisson, had awakened so deep an interest in the heart of another, butreplied, "It was well meant, but unnecessary. Thou hast no need of the gold andsilver of others. "

The young man, supposing his father had reference to his peculiarreligious notions, was silent, for it was a subject which could not beadverted to without great delicacy, and danger of vehement bursts ofenthusiasm. 

"Thou comprehendest me not, " said Holden. "I say thou art in nowant of the dross with which men buy, to their grief and shame, thedeluding vanities of the world. "

"If it is your wish, father, I will return the gift, " said Pownal, "though I know it will hurt the generous heart of the giver. "

"I interpose not. No voice calleth me thereto. But my meaning is stilldark, and I know not whether it is best to admit thee fully to mycounsels. Yet, thus much mayest thou now know, and more shalt thouknow hereafter, that thy father is no pauper, to crave the wealth ofothers, and that his poverty is voluntary. The body is kept poor, thatdivine grace may the more readily enrich the soul. "

"Believe me, sir, I do not wish to intrude into anything which it isyour desire to keep secret. "

"There is nothing secret that shall not be revealed, " exclaimedHolden, catching at the last word, "but everything in its own order. Let it satisfy thee, therefore, my son, to know for the present thatthy father hath but to stretch forth his hand and it shall be filled, but to knock and it shall be opened. But this is not the day, nor formy own sake, should the clock of time ever strike the hour, when thatwhich was thrown away shall be taken again, that which was despisedshall be valued. Yet because of thee may I not lawfully withhold thehand, and as I gaze upon thy fair young face, thou seemest one whosespirit is so balanced that what men call prosperity will not hurtthee. But affection is blind, and my heart may deceive me, andtherefore will I wait until He speaks who cannot lead astray ordeceive. "

It was partly to himself, and partly to his son, that the Solitaryspoke, nor was Pownal at all certain that he comprehended his meaning. He had at first fancied, his father was offended at his acceptance ofthe rich merchant's bounty, but he soon saw that Holden regarded moneytoo little to consider the mere giving or receiving of it as of muchconsequence. Upon further reflection, and a consideration of themanner in which his father had lived for so many years, the idea whichyet seemed shadowed forth by his language, that he was possessed ofproperty, appeared utterly chimerical. He was therefore disposed toattach to his father's words some mystical sense, or to suppose thathe imagined himself in possession of a secret, by means of whichhe could command the wealth he scorned. Of course the young manconsidered such anticipations as visionary as the immediate comingof that millenium for which the longing eyes of the enthusiast dailylooked forth. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

 From yon blue heavens, above us bent, The gard'ner Adam and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent: Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good; Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood. 

 TENNYSON. 

The news of the discovery of the relationship between Holden andPownal had reached Hillsdale before their arrival, and the friendsand acquaintances of both, comprising pretty much the whole village, hastened to present their congratulations. Many supposed now they hadobtained a clue to the singularities of the Solitary, and expectedthat since he had recovered his son, he would resume the habits ofordinary life. But nothing seemed further from Holden's intention. Inspite of the entreaties of his son, and the remonstrances of those fewwho ventured to speak to him on the subject, he returned on the veryday of their arrival to his cabin. It was, however, with no harshness, but with gentle and even exculpatory language, he refused theirrequest. 

"Think not hard of me, my son, nor you, kind friends, " he said, "if myears are deaf to your solicitations. The old man is weary and seekethrest. The trembling nerves still quiver to the cries of the horsemenand the rattling of chariots, nor may the tumult pass away till oldsights and sounds stealing in with soft ministry compose the excitedyet not unpleased spirit. I would gladly in solitude lay my tired headon the bosom of the Father, and thank Him in the silence of His worksfor mercies exceeding thought. "

Holden, however, could not refuse to allow his son to accompany him, and to provide such little necessaries, as were esteemed essentialto his comfort. But he permitted the young man to remain only a shorttime. "Go, " he said, "the world is bright before thee; enjoy itstransient sunshine. The time may come when even thou, with hope andconfidence in thy heart, and heaven in thine eyes, shalt say, 'I haveno pleasure therein. '" Pownal therefore returned to Hillsdale, withoutreluctance it may be supposed, when we add, that the same eveningfound him at the house of Mr. Bernard. It will be recollected he hadcommissions to execute for both the Judge and his wife, but if thereader thinks that not a sufficient reason why he should callupon them so soon, we have no objection to his adopting any otherconjecture, even to the extravagant supposition, that there was somemagnet to attract the young man's wandering feet. 

It was a happy evening Pownal spent at the Judge's house. All seemedglad to see him again, and expressed their delight and wonder at thediscovery of his parent. And yet the young man could not help fancyingthere was a greater difference between his reception by the membersof the family, than he had been accustomed to. Mr. And Mrs. Bernard, indeed, were equally cordial as of old, but Anne, though she tenderedhim her hand with her usual frankness, and allowed it to linger inhis, appeared graver, and less disposed to indulge an exuberance ofspirits, while William Bernard was evidently more distant, and formal. There was, however, no want of politeness on his part, for he mingledwith his usual grace and intelligence in the conversation, andthe change was perceptible rather in the omission of old terms offamiliarity, than in any manifestation of coldness. He seemed to paythe same attention, and evince a like interest with the rest, in theparticulars of the adventures of Pownal, which, at the request of Mrs. Bernard, he narrated. Had a stranger, or one who saw the two youngmen together for the first time, been present, he would have noticednothing inconsistent with ordinary friendship, but Pownal comparedthe present with the past, and his jealous sensitiveness detected asomething wanting. But for all that, his enjoyment, though it might belessened, was not, as we have intimated, destroyed. He half suspectedthe cause, and his proud spirit rose with resentment. But so long ashe enjoyed the esteem of the parents, and was a welcome visitor attheir house, and Miss Bernard treated him with unabated regard, hecould well afford, he thought, to pass by without notice humors, which, in his changed condition, he considered equally unreasonableand absurd. For, he was no longer a mere clerk, without position insociety, but the member of a long-established and wealthy firm, anda favorite of its head, who seemed to have taken the fortunes of hisyoung partner into his own hands, with a determination to secure theirsuccess. True, he was the son of a poor and eccentric man, but nodishonor was attached to his father's name, and so far as educationand genuine refinement were concerned, he was the equal of any, andthe superior of most, by whom he was surrounded. With far differentfeelings, therefore, from those in the earlier period of hisacquaintance with Miss Bernard, when he discovered she was becomingdearer to him than prudence permitted, did he now approach her. Hedared to look forward to the time when it would be no presumption toavow his feelings. 

The cause of William Bernard's coldness will be better understood by areference to a conversation between him and his sister, shortly beforethe return of Pownal to Hillsdale. Rumor, with her thousand tongues, had been busy, and, as is not unusual on such occasions, embellishedthe story with innumerable fanciful ornaments. The brother andsister had both heard the reports, and they were the subject of theirdiscussion. 

"Why, Anne!" said William, "this is more wonderful than RobinsonCrusoe, or the Children of the Abbey. How do you think Pownal, or Mr. Holden, as I suppose we must call him now, relishes the relationship?"

"How, William, can he be otherwise than glad to find a father?"replied his sister. 

"A vast deal depends upon who the father is. "

"What! is it you who speak so?" cried Anne, with sparkling eyes. "Whatis there in the father unworthy of the son?"

"Were I now in Pownal's place, I should have preferred to discover aparent in some one else than in a half crazy man, who supports himselfby basket-making. "

"And can you not, " said his sister, indignantly, "under the maskwhich circumstances have imposed upon him, detect the noble-heartedgentleman? This is not at all like you, William, and I think his verymisfortunes ought to be a passport to your kindness. "

"So they should be, and so they are, but the facts, which I will notrepeat, because it offends you, remain. Think you, it can be verypleasant, for a young man, to have precisely--precisely such aconnection?"

"I should despise Thomas Pownal, if he felt anything but pride in hisfather. I am the daughter of a republican, and care little for thedistinctions which the tailor makes. The noblest hearts are not alwaysthose which beat under the finest broadcloth. "

 "The rank is but the guinea stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that. "

"Well, Anne, " said her brother, "I never expected to take a lesson, indemocracy, from you, nor fancied you were a politician before; but, it seems to me you have become lately very sharp-sighted, to detectHolden's merits. What is it that has so improved your vision?"

"You are trying to tease me, now, but I will not be angry. You know, as well as I do, that from the first I took a liking to Mr. Holden. Sofar from being frightened at him, when I was a child, nothing pleasedme better that when he took Faith and me into his arms, and told usstories out of the Bible. I do believe I had then a presentiment hewas something different from what he seemed. "

"But you have shown an extraordinary interest in him lately. Even now, your voice trembles, and your color is raised beyond the requirementsof the occasion. "

"How is it possible to avoid being excited, when my brother speaksdisparagingly of one who has every title to compassion and respect?Is it not enough to soften your heart, to think of the wretchednesshe suffered so many years, and which shattered his fine understanding?And now, that his--Oh, William!" she cried, bursting into tears, "Idid not think you were so hard-hearted. "

"My dear Anne! my dear sister!" exclaimed her brother, putting his armaround her and drawing her towards him, "forgive me. I never meant tohurt your feelings, though I am sorry they are so much interested. "

"I will not affect to misunderstand you, brother, " she said, recovering herself; "but you are mistaken, if you suppose that Mr. Pownal has ever--has ever--spoken to me in a manner different from theway in which he is in the habit of conversing with other ladies. "

"Heaven be praised for that, " said her brother. "But I ought to haveknown you never would permit it. "

"You ought to have known that, had he done so, I should not havekept it a secret. My father and mother, and you, would have been madeacquainted with it. "

"And, now, dear Annie, since things are as they are, I hope youwill not give Pownal any encouragement. Whatever may be your presentfeelings, he cannot disguise the fact, that he loves dearly to visithere. "

"Encouragement!" cried Anne, her natural vivacity flashing up atthe imputation. "What do you take me for, William Bernard, that youventure to use such a word? Am I one of those old maids whom somewicked wag has described as crying out in despair, 'Who will have me?'or a cherry, at which any bird can pick?"

"There spoke the spirit of my sister. I hear, now, Anne Bernard. Youwill not forget the position of our family in society, and that uponyou and myself are centered the hopes of our parents. "

"I trust I shall never forget my love and duty, or have any secretsfrom them. They have a right to be acquainted with every emotion of myheart, nor am I ashamed they should be seen. "

"The accomplishments of Pownal entitle him to move in the firstsociety, I cannot deny that, " continued young Bernard, "but, in myjudgment, something more is necessary in order to warrant his boldnessin aspiring to connect himself with one of the first families in thecountry. "

"You will continue to harp on that string, William, but my opiniondiffers from yours. In our country there should be no distinctions butsuch as are created by goodness and intelligence. "

"It all sounds very well in theory, but the application of the rule isimpossible. The dreamers of Utopian schemes may amuse themselves withsuch hallucinations, but practical people can only smile at them. "

"Class me among the dreamers. Nor will I believe that whatever is trueand just is impracticable. Does redder blood flow in the veins of thechild cradled under a silken canopy, than in those of one rocked in akneading-trough?"

"You have profited to some purpose by the French lessons of ourfather, " said Bernard, bitterly. "Principles like these may yetproduce as much confusion in our family on a small scale, as they didin France on a mighty theatre. "

"You are losing yourself in the clouds, dear brother. But there can beno danger in following the guidance of one so wise and experienced asour father, nor does it become you to speak slightingly of any opinionhe may adopt. "

"I did not mean to do so. I should be the last one to do so, though Icannot always agree with him. But you take an unfair advantage of thelittle excitement I feel, to put me in the wrong. Do you think I canlook on without being painfully interested, when I see my only sisterabout to throw herself away upon this obscure stranger, for you cannotconceal it from me that you love him?"

"Throw myself away! Obscure stranger! You are unkind William. Lovehim! it will be time enough to grant my love when it is asked for. Itdoes not become me, perhaps, to say it, but Mr. Pownal is not here toanswer for himself, and for that reason I will defend him. There livesnot the woman who might not be proud of the love of so noble andpure a heart. But you are not in a humor to hear reason, " she added, rising, "and I will leave you until your returning good sense shallhave driven away suspicions equally unfounded and unjust. "

"Stay, Anne, stop, sister, " cried Bernard, as with a heightened colorshe hastened out of the room. "She is too much offended, " he said tohimself, "to heed me, and I must wait for a more favorable opportunityto renew the conversation. I have seen this fancy gradually coming on, and, fool that I was, was afraid to speak for fear of making thingsworse. I thought it might be only a passing whim, like those whichflutter twenty times through girls' silly heads before they aremarried, and was unwilling to treat it as of any consequence. But doesAnne mean to deceive me? It is not at all like her. She never did sobefore. No, she has courage enough for anything, and is incapable ofdeception. But these foolish feelings strangely affect young womenand--young men, too. She must, herself, be deceived. She cannot beacquainted with the state of her own heart. Yet it may not have goneso far that it cannot be stopped. I had other plans for her, nor willI give them up. Father! mother! Pooh! nothing can be done with them. He would not see her lip quiver or a tear stand in her eye, if itcould be prevented at the expense of half his fortune, and motheralways thinks both perfection. No, if anything is to be done it mustbe with Anne herself, or Pownal, perhaps. Yet I would not make thelittle minx unhappy. But to be the brother-in-law of the son of aninsane basket-maker! It is too ridiculous. "

No two persons could be more unlike in temperament, and in manyrespects in the organization of their minds, than William Bernard andhis sister. She, the creature of impulse, arriving at her conclusionsby a process like intuition: he, calm, thoughtful, deliberatelyweighing and revising every argument before he made up his mind: she, destitute of all worldly prudence and trusting to the inspirationsof an ingenuous and bold nature: he, worldly wise, cautious, andcalculating the end from the beginning. Yet were his aspirations nobleand untainted with a sordid or mean motive. He would not for a worldhave sacrificed the happiness of his sister, but he thought it notunbecoming to promote his personal views by her means, provided itcould be done without injury to herself. He was a politician, andyoung as he was his scheming brain already formed plans of family andpersonal aggrandizement, extending far into the future. Anne was mixedup with these in his mind, and he hoped, by the marriage connectionshe might form, to increase a family influence in furtherance of hisplans. These seemed likely to be defeated by Anne's partiality forPownal, and the young man felt the disappointment as keenly as hiscool philosophical nature would permit. But let it not be thought thatWilliam Bernard brought worldly prudence into all his plans. His loveof Faith Armstrong had no connection with any such feelings, and shewould have been equally the object of his admiration and choice, hadshe been a portionless maiden instead of the heiress of the wealthyMr. Armstrong. We will not say that her prospect of succeeding toa large fortune was disagreeable to her lover, but though when hethought of her it would sometimes occur to his mind, yet was it noconsideration that corrupted the purity of his affection. 

Anne, when she left her brother, hastened to her chamber and subjectedher heart to a scrutiny it had never experienced. She was startledupon an examination her brother's language had suggested, to find theinterest Pownal had awakened in her bosom. She had been pleased to bein his company, and to receive from him those little attentions whichyoung men are in the habit of rendering to those of the same age ofthe other sex: a party never seemed complete from which he was absent:there was no one whose hand she more willingly accepted for the dance, or whose praise was more welcome when she rose from the piano: butthough the emotions she felt in his presence were so agreeable, shehad not suspected them to be those of love. Her brother had abruptlyawakened her to the reality. In the simplicity of her innocence, andwith somewhat of a maiden shame, she blamed herself for allowing anyyoung man to become to her an object of so much interest, and shrunkfrom the idea of having at some time unwittingly betrayed herself. Shedetermined, whatever pain it might cost, to reveal to her mother allher feelings, and to be guided by her advice. 

True hearted, guileless girl! instinctively she felt that the path ofduty leads to peace and happiness. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

 Oh, how this tyrant, doubt, torments my breast! My thoughts, like birds, who're frighten'd from their nest, Around the place where all was hush'd before, Flutter, and hardly nestle any more. 

 OTWAY. 

Our story now reverts to the Indians, of whom we have for so long madelittle or no mention. It is in vain for us to attempt to control thecourse of our tale, and to compel it, as it were, to be content withthe artificial banks of a canal, stealing insensibly on, with uniformsmoothness, to its terminus. Whatever we may do, it will assert itsliberty, and wander in its own way, foaming down rocks and ruggedprecipices, like a mountain stream, at one moment, at the next, stagnating into a pool, and afterwards gliding off in erraticwindings, roaming like Ceres, searching through the world for her lostProserpine. Not ours to subject the succession of events to our will, but to narrate them with such poor skill as nature and a defectiveeducation concede, trusting that a homely sincerity, if it cannotwholly supply the place of art, may palliate its want. 

Peéna, the partridge, or Esther, as she was more commonly called bythe whites, heard, with an exquisite delight, that the little boy;whom she had left on the steps of the house, in New York, and nowdiscovered to be Pownal, was the son of Holden. Nothing could havehappened more calculated to deepen the reverence she had long feltfor the Solitary, and to convince her--though no such argument wasnecessary--that he was a "great medicine, " or one peculiarly thefavorite, and under the guardianship, of Superior Powers. Sheherself seemed controlled by the Manito that watched over Holden, andcompelled, even unknown to herself, to guard his interests. For was itnot she who had preserved the child? Was it not she who had placedhim in a situation to become a great and rich man?--for such, to hersimplicity, Pownal seemed to be--was it not she who had brought fatherand son together, and revealed each to the other? As these reflectionsand the like passed through her mind, a shudder of superstitionthrilled her frame, and she turned her attention to the considerationof how she might best fulfill the designs of the Manito. For it willbe remembered, that, although nominally a Christian, she had notwholly cast off the wild notions of her tribe, if it be, indeed, possible for an adult Indian to do so. The maxim of Horace:

 "Quo semel est imbuta recens servabit odorem Testa diu, "

is of universal application, nor has it ever greater force than whenreference is had to ideas, connected with the terrors of an unseenworld, and where the mind that entertains them is destitute of theadvantages of education. 

Esther, it may readily then be supposed, did not delay after theirarrival, to go to see both Holden and his son. She could not beholdagain, and recognize the child she had preserved, in the young manwho stood before her, without strong feeling, nor could Pownal lookunmoved upon the gentle and timid woman, to whom he was so muchindebted. Esther knew again the string of coral beads she had leftupon the boy's neck, and ascribed it to the whispers of the GreatSpirit, that she had allowed them to remain. She did not return fromher visit to Pownal empty handed. In fact, she was loaded with as manypresents, of such articles as suited her condition and half-civilizedtaste, as she and the boy, Quadaquina, who commonly accompanied her, could carry. It was the mode which naturally suggested itself toPownal, as alike most pleasing to Peéna, and most calculated toimpress her mind with a sense of his estimate of her services, especially as there was connected with the gifts a promise, thatduring his life her wants and wishes should all be supplied. Peénanow felt herself the happiest and richest of her tribe, and her heartglowed with devotion towards those who had been the means of investingher with wealth, and the consequence attached to it. 

"Hugh!" ejaculated Ohquamehud, in amazement, as the squaw and her sonthrew down upon the floor of the cabin the rich red and blue cloths, and hats, and shoes, and other articles which Pownal had pressedupon them. The exclamation escaped involuntarily, but, with a naturalpoliteness, the Indian asked no questions, but waited till it shouldplease the squaw to furnish an explanation. 

The sweet-tempered Peéna saw his desire, and turning to the boy, shesaid, in their native language, in which the three always conversedtogether:

"Speak, Quadaquina, that the eyes of thy father's brother may beopened. "

The boy, in obedience to the command of his mother, and withoutlooking at the Indian, tersely replied:

"They are the gifts of my white brother with the open hand, the son ofthe Longbeard. "

Ohquamehud appeared offended, and he asked, in a sharp tone:

"Is Quadaquina ashamed, when he speaks to a warrior, to look him inthe eyes, and did he learn his manners from the pale faces?"

The boy turned round, and gazed full at the other, and his eyesglistened, yet it was in a low, soft tone he replied:

"Quadaquina is a child, and knows not the customs of warriors, andchildren turn away their eyes from what they do not wish to see. "

Ohquamehud's face darkened as he said:

"The arts of the Longbeard have blown a cloud between me and mykindred, so that they cannot see me, and it is time my feet wereturned towards the setting sun. "

"It is the fire-water that puts out the eyes of Ohquamehud, and makeshim forget what he owes to the wife of Huttamoiden, " exclaimed theboy, with suppressed passion. 

"Peace, Quadaquina, " said his mother. "Ohquamehud is not now theslave of the fire-water. Go, " she added, detecting, with a mother'ssagacity, the tumult in the mind of the high-spirited boy, "and returnnot until thou hast tamed thine anger. Wolves dwell not in the cabinof Peéna. "

The boy, with downcast eyes, and obedient to his mother, left the hut. 

In explanation of this scene we may say, that, unhappily, like mostIndians, Ohquamehud was addicted to the use of spirituous liquors, his indulgence in the fiery gratification being limited only by hisinability at all times to obtain it. Although unable to indulge hisappetite in the cabin of Esther, he occasionally procured strongliquors in the huts of the other Indians, with whom the practiceof taking stimulants was almost universal, and sometimes in suchquantities as utterly to lose his reason. Returned on one of theseoccasions, he demanded rum from Esther, and, upon her refusal to giveit, struck her a blow. This so exasperated the boy, Quadaquina, whowas present, that, with a club, he prostrated the drunken man, which, indeed, in the condition he was in, was not difficult, and would, hadhe not been restrained by Peéna, have inflicted a serious injury, ifnot killed him. Ohquamehud never knew that he had been struck, butascribed the violent pain in his head the next day to the fire-water, and the contusion to a fall. Peéna, while lamenting the excesses ofher relative, felt little or no resentment towards him; but not sowith the boy. He despised Ohquamehud for the miserable exhibitions ofimbecility he made in his cups, and hated him for the violence to hismother. 

"Look, " said Peéna, pointing to the articles, and desirous to removethe rising discontent from the mind of the Indian, "the heart of theyoung Longbeard (for she had no other name for Pownal in her language)is large. All these he took out of it for Peéna. "

"Accursed be the gifts of the pale faces!" exclaimed Ohquamehud. "Forsuch rags our fathers sold our hunting-grounds, and gave permissionto the strangers to build walls in the rivers so that the fish cannotswim up. "

"Peéna sold nothing for these, " said the squaw, mildly. "Because theyoung Longbeard loved Peéna he gave them all to her. "

"Did not Peéna preserve his life? But she is right. The white face hasan open hand, and pays more for his life than it is worth. "

"The words of my husband's brother are very bitter. What has the boywhom Huttamoiden's arm saved from the flames, done, that blacknessshould gather over the face of Ohquamehud?"

"Quah! Does Peéna ask? She is more foolish than the bird, from whichshe takes her name, when it flies into a tree. Is he not the son ofOnontio?"

"Peéna never saw Onontio. She has only heard of him as one, who likethe red men, loves scalps. The Longbeard is a man of peace, and lovesthem not. The eyes of Ohquamehud are getting dim. "

"The eyes of Ohquamehud are two fires, which throw a light upon hispath, and he sees clearly what is before him. It is only blood thatcan wash out from the eyes of a warrior the remembrance of his enemy, and nothing but water has cleansed Ohquamehud's. Thrice have Imeet Onontio, once on the yellow Wabash: again, where the mightyMississippi and Ohio flow into each other's bosoms, and a thirdtime on the plains of the Upper Illinois. Look, " he cried suddenly, throwing open his shirt, and exposing his breast, "the bullet ofOnontio made that mark like the track of a swift canoe in the water. It talks very plain and will not let Ohquamehud forget. "

"If the Longbeard be Onontio, his son has done my brother no injury. "

"The gifts of the pale face have blinded the eyes, and stopped theears of my sister, so that she can neither see nor hear the truth. Who, when he kills the old panther, lets the cubs escape?"

"There is peace between the red man and the white on the banks of theSakimau. The long knives are as plenty as the leaves of the westernforests. Ohquamehud must forget the bullet of Onontio until he findshim on the prairie, or where the streams run towards the setting sun. "

"My sister is very wise, " said the savage, his whole manner changingfrom the ferocity, which had at first characterized it, to a subduedand even quiet tone. "But, " added he, as it were despondingly, "lether not fear for the safety of the Longbeard. Ohquamehud is weakand cannot contend with so great a medicine. " He turned away, as ifunwilling to continue the conversation, nor did Peéna manifest anydisposition to renew it. 

There was, however, something about the Indian, that alarmed thesquaw, as she had never been before, notwithstanding the pacificlanguage, with which he concluded. The time was drawing nigh forOhquamehud's return to the West, and, knowing his brutal temper, shefeared that under the influence of the spirituous liquors he indulgedin to excess, he might attempt to signalize his departure by some actof wrong and revenge, which would bring down destruction on himself, and disastrously affect the fortunes of the tribe. He evidentlycherished a bitter animosity toward Holden, whom he had recognized asa formidable enemy, and although a cool and wary savage when himself, and as capable of appreciating the consequences of an act as clearlyas any one and therefore likely to be deterred from violence, therewas no knowing what he might do, when stimulated by the frenzy thatlurks in the seductive draught. Peéna knew the difficulty, withwhich an Indian foregoes revenge, and her apprehensions were the moreexcited by the attachment she felt for the two white men. Fears, vagueand unformed had before floated through her mind, but they now assumedconsistency, and she determined to take such precautions until thedeparture of her kinsman as should prevent harm either to himself orothers. With this view, the moment she was alone with her son, sheseized the opportunity to speak on the subject of her alarm. But, first she thought it necessary to reprove him for his feelings towardshis uncle. 

"Whose blood, " she inquired, "flows in the veins of Quadaquina?"

"It is the blood of Huttamoiden, " answered the boy, erecting his head, and drawing himself up proudly. 

"And who gave the bold heart and strong arm to Huttamoiden?"

"It was the mighty Obbatinuua, whose name men say is still mentionedin the song on the great fresh water lakes. "

"He had two sons?"

"Huttamoiden and"--He stopped as if unwilling to pronounce the name, and turned with a gesture of contempt from his mother. 

Peéna supplied the omission. "Ohquamehud, " she said. "He is a bravewarrior, and the Shawnees are proud of his exploits. "

"He is a dog!" exclaimed the boy, fiercely. "The blood of Obbatinuuahas leaked out of his veins, and the fire-water taken its place. "

"He is the kinsman of Quadaquina, and it does not become a child tojudge harshly of any member of his tribe. "

"Mother, " said the boy, gravely, as if he thought it incumbent onhim to justify his conduct, "listen. The hearts of Obbatinuua and ofHuttamoiden both beat in my bosom. They tell me that the son shouldremember the glory of his father. Quadaquina is very sick when he seesOhquamehud lying on the ground, a slave of the fire-water, with histongue lolling out like a dog's, and he disdains to acknowledge him asof his blood. "

Peéna was not disposed to blame the boy for his disgust atdrunkenness. It was a feeling she had herself most sedulouslycultivated by every means in her power, pointing out, as occasionoffered, like the Lacedemonians, its exhibitions in its worst forms, and contrasting the wretched drunkard falling, from degradation todegradation, into a dishonored grave, with the sober and vigorous man. She had succeeded in imparting to Quadaquina her own abhorrence of thevice, and was cautious not to weaken the impression. 

"Enough, " said Peéna; "my son will grow up into a brave and good man;but if he despises Ohquamehud for his drunkenness, let him not forgethe is his kinsman. Hearken, " she added, earnestly, and drawing theboy nearer, while she lowered her voice; "does Quadaquina know thatOhquamehud hates the Longbeard?"

"Quadaquina's ears and eyes are open, " said the boy. 

"Ohquamehud's feet will soon chase the setting sun, " continued Peéna, "but before he starts the fire-water may try to make him do somefoolish thing. Quadaquina must have love enough for his kinsman toprevent the folly. "

"Not because Quadaquina loves, but because Ohquamehud is his father'sbrother. "

"It is well. Ohquamehud must do the Longbeard no harm, and Quadaquinamust watch them both, and, if need be, warn the Longbeard of thedanger. "

The boy, proud of the trust committed to him, promised to obey hismother and be watchful, and from that time commenced a system ofpatient vigilance, of which a white child would scarcely be capable, but which seems to be a part of the nature of an Indian. WheneverOhquamehud left the cabin Quadaquina sought no more to avoid him, butaccompanied him whenever invited, and if not, generally followed, soas not to lose him long out of sight. There was something about thetrust that agreed well with the cunning of the child. It had for him akind of fascination, like that which induces the hunter patiently, dayafter day, to pursue the track of the flying game, looking forward tothe moment of success, when all his toil is to be repaid. 

As for Esther, she lost no time in starting off to apprise Holden andPownal of the danger she feared. As the canoe glided along under thestrokes of the paddle, which she knew how to use as well as anyman, she reflected upon the proper manner of communicating herapprehensions; but the more she thought on the subject, the moredifficult it appeared. She could not mention the name of her kinsmanas the person whom she suspected of an evil design. That seemed to hera sort of treason, a violation of the rights of relationship and ofhospitality. He might be innocent. She herself might be to blame forcherishing such suspicions. She knew not what evils the disclosure ofOhquamehud's name connected with the charge might occasion. He mightbe arrested and put in prison, perhaps, executed. The white people, in the opinion of the Indians, had never exercised much forbearancetowards them, and regarded them as an inferior race. The liberty orlife of an Indian was, probably, with them, but of little consequence. Besides, might she not be running some risk herself? But thisreflection weighed but little with the affectionate creature. Whilesuch considerations occurred to the ignorant and timid woman, shewas half tempted to turn back, and trust to the Manito or protectinggenius, who had thus far borne the Solitary triumphantly through allperils, but her fears at last prevailed over these scruples, and sheresolved to give the warning without making allusion to any person. 

But Holden, a man naturally of great courage, and familiarized fromhis earliest years with danger, and the means of avoiding it, paid butlittle attention to the obscure hints of Esther. He did not even takethe trouble to inquire to what direction her allusions pointed. From whom, from what, had he to apprehend danger to his life? He hadvoluntarily embraced poverty; there was nothing about him to temptcupidity; he loved all the world, and would hardly, indeed, hesitateto sacrifice, if need were, his life for that of an another. Whatmotive could there be to injure him? He was not in the boundlessforest of the West, roamed by predatory savages, but in a land of law, and order, and religion. Were he, indeed, in those regions which hadwitnessed the fiery trials and perils of his youth, caution would benecessary; but even then, he would have relied with confidence on hisown resources, controlled and directed by a shaping Providence. It wasnot probable that Holden thought at all of Ohquamehud, but if his mindrested for a moment on the Indian, it could not be with an emotion offear. The western pioneers feel their superiority too greatly tobe accessible to such apprehensions, and Holden had been too long ahunter of savages, to dread either their cunning or their force. Hadhe reflected on the subject, he would have seemed to himself to standin pretty much the same relation to a red skin that a grown man doesto a child; or, if the Indian were hostile, as the hunter does to thebears, and wolves, and catamounts, he pursues. 

"Peéna, " said Holden, "I thank thee. It is not in human nature tobe ungrateful for affection, whatever be the color of the skin thatcovers the heart which offers it. But dismiss thy fears, and think ofthem as unsubstantial as the morning mist. And know that at all timesdoubt and fear are in vain. Thou canst not make one hair white andanother black. It is appointed unto all men once to die, but of thetimes and seasons, though fixed by the Master of Life with infalliblewisdom, and by a decree that may not be gainsaid, no man knoweth. Thearrow shot by the hand of Jehovah must reach its mark, though thouseest not its track in the clouds. "

Somewhat more effect attended Esther's visit to Pownal, not that, indeed, she felt the same apprehensions for him as for his father, orwas able to inspire him with fears on his own account. Living in thevillage, and with habits so different from those of Holden, he wasvastly less exposed to a danger of the kind she apprehended. Thebullet or the knife of the savage would not be likely to reach himin the streets of Hillsdale. For it is no part of the tactics ofan American Indian to expose his own life. On the contrary, he isconsidered a fool who does so unnecessarily. Stratagem is prized aboveforce, and he is the greatest warrior who, while inflicting an injury, takes care not to expose himself to harm. Esther knew all this, andfor these reasons, perhaps, if with Holden she was vague, with his sonshe was oracular. Consequently, Pownal only laughed at her, when shespoke of himself, as well, indeed, he might, but when she referredto his father, the case was altered. Not that any clear, well-defineddanger presented itself, but as in low, monotonous tones the squawproceeded, darkly hinting at what she would not explain, an oppressionfell upon his spirits as strange as it was painful. We can liken itto nothing with more propriety than to that dim sense of terror anddiscomfort which is sometimes observed in the inferior animals at theapproach of an eclipse or the bursting of a hurricane. Yielding to themysterious monitor, and prompt in action as he was rapid in judgment, Pownal proceeded instantly to seek his father. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

 And with him thousand phantoms joined Who prompt to deeds accursed the mind, And those the fiends who, near allied, O'er Nature's wounds and wrecks preside; While Vengeance, in the lurid air, Lifts his right arm, exposed and bare. 

 COLLINS. 

Ohquamehud, with all his burning passion for revenge, dared notundertake anything against his enemy, in opposition to the commands ofthe Manito. After the signal interposition, as he conceived it tobe, in favor of Holden at the cabin of the latter, he thought it notprudent to renew the attempt at the same place. The terror of thatmoment was too deeply impressed to allow him to hazard its repetition. But the power of that Manito might not extend elsewhere, and therewere other Manitos who, perhaps, were more powerful, and might be morepropitious. He would endeavor to conciliate one of them, and so arriveat the accomplishment of his wishes. 

It has been observed that the falls of the Yaupáae were a favoriteplace of resort for the Solitary. Especially at this season of theyear (for it was now the delicious month of June, the loveliest of thetwelve) did he love to haunt its neighborhood. There was somethingin the wild scenery, in the dash and tumult of the water, and inits ceaseless shout, that harmonized well with his feelings in theirvarious moods. His was a grand soul, and felt itself allied to thegrandeur of nature. As the air, driven through the pipes of a mightyorgan, issues out in solemn concords and divine harmonies, of power tolift the spirit on wings of cherubim and seraphim above "the mists ofthis dim spot which men call earth" and recall its contemplations toits heavenly origin, so these sights and sounds, playing throughthe soul of the Solitary, chased away whatever would clog its upwardflight, soothing while they elevated, and bridging over the chasm thatseparates the lower from the upper spheres. This habit of Holden waswell known to the Indian, for he had often seen the Solitary musing ona rock that overhung the falls. The retirement of the place, likewise, was favorable to the purpose of an assassin. It was seldom in thosedays, except tempted by its romance, that a person visited thespot. There were other reasons, also, that had an influence over thesuperstitious mind of the Indian, in determining his choice. 

A child of nature, cradled in her wild bosom and reared in her arms, he, too, felt her awful charms. He could not listen to the voice ofthe majestic torrent, or gaze upon the grey rocks without a reverentadmiration. And in proportion to this feeling was his awe of theManito who presided over the scene. How prodigious must be His power!The irresistible sweep of the cataract resembled his strength; itsroar, his voice; and the hoary rocks were indicative of his age. Couldhe obtain the favor of so mighty a Being--could he induce him to aidhis design, it could be easy of execution. He would make the trial. Hewould approach him with offerings, and acquaint him with his wishes. The Genius of the Fall ought not to love the white man. The pale facesnever offered him gifts, while the red men, long before the arrival ofthe fatal stranger and since, had covered the shores with presents. He would not be disregardful or turn a deaf ear to one of his childrenwho sought a just revenge. 

Animated by these considerations and such hopes, Ohquamehud left thehut of Esther on the afternoon of the following day, to propitiate theManito of the Falls. His way led through the wood, along the marginof the Severn for a few miles and then crossed the high-road and someopen fields and another belt of woods, before he reached the Yaupáae. Arrived at his destination, he looked with a solemn air around as ifhalf expecting to see the Genius of the place. But he beheld nothing, save the wild features of nature, and the moss-grown roof of the oldmill, almost hid by the intervening trees: he heard no sound exceptthe uninterrupted roaring of the torrent. In the hot rays of thatJune sun, not even the birds emitted a note, waiting under their leafyshelters in the darkest recesses of the woods, until the pleasantcoolness of approaching evening should tempt them out and reawakentheir songs. The Indian, seeing that no one was in sight, commencedcollecting brush and sticks of dry wood that lay about, which heheaped up into a pile upon a rock close to the water's edge. After hehad gathered together a quantity that appeared to him sufficient, heselected from the stones lying around, a couple of flints which seemedfittest for his purpose, and by striking them violently together, soon succeeded in producing a shower of sparks, which falling on thethoroughly dried and combustible matter, instantly set it on fire, and shot a tongue of flame into the air. Reverently then inclininghis body towards the cataract, as in an attitude of supplication, Ohquamehud addressed the Manito, and explained his wishes. He spokewith dignity, as one who, though standing in the presence of asuperior, was not unmindful of his own worth. The sounds at first werethose of lamentation, so low as scarcely to be audible, and plaintiveand sweet as the sighs of the wind through the curled conch shell. "Oh Manito, " he said, "where are thy children, once as plenty as theforest leaves? Ask of the month of flowers for the snows that 'Hpoonscatters from his hand, or of the Yaupáae for the streams he poursinto the great Salt Lake. The sick-skinned stranger, with hair likethe curls of the vine, came from the rising sun. He was weak as alittle child: he shivered with the cold: he was perishing with hunger. The red man was strong: he wrapped himself in bear skins and was warm;he built his wigwam of bark, and defied the storm, and meat was plentyin his pot. He pitied the dying stranger; he brought him on his backout of the snow, and laid him by the fire; he chafed his limbs andclothed him in furs; he presented venison with his own hands, and thedaughters of the tribes offered honey and cakes of maize, and wept forcompassion. And the pale face saw that our land was better than hisown, and he envied us, and sent messengers to his people to come andstrip us of our heritage. Then they came as the flights of pigeons inthe spring, innumerable: in multitudes as the shad and salmon, whenthey ascend the thawed rivers. They poisoned the air with theirbreaths, and the Indians died helpless in the pestilence. They madewar upon us, and drove us from our cornfields; they killed our oldmen, and sent away our young men and maidens into slavery. O, Manito, thus hath the accursed pale faces requited our kindness. 

"Wast thou displeased with the red men O, Manito? Had the children ofthe Forest offended thee, that thou didst deliver them into the handof their enemies? See, what thine inconsiderate anger hath done. Thouhast destroyed us, and injured thyself. Where are the offerings thatonce covered these rocks, the bears' meat and the venison, thewampum, the feathers of the eagle, and sweet-smelling tobacco? Who nowhonoreth the Manito of the loud voiced Yaupáae? I listen, but I hearno answer. "

Thus far the voice of Ohquamehud was low and melancholy, as the wailof a broken heart, and his face sad, as of one lamenting for a friend, but now it changed to a loftier expression, and the words were hissedout with a guttural roughness, without being spoken much louder. 

"O, Manito!" he continued, "I alone am left to offer thee thesacrifice of the fragrant tobacco. Behold! I will fill thy pipe manytimes if thou wilt assist me. Onontio hath done me much mischief. Hehath burned the villages of my people, and slain our warriors. Whyshouldst thou favor him? Is he not a dog which thou wilt kick awayfrom the door of thy lodge? He cometh, sometimes, and sitteth upon thehighest rock, to look down upon thy dwelling-place. It is to nourishthe pride of his heart. It is to exult that, as far as his eye cansee, it beholds no wigwam, nor one bringing thee gifts. Help Manito!Think upon thine own wrongs, --remember the sufferings of the red man, and give me the scalp of Onontio. Accept my offering. "

Having thus spoken, and conciliated by every means that occurred tohis untutored mind, the good-will of the tutelary Spirit of the Falls, recounting the generosity of the Indians, and the ingratitude of thewhites, remonstrating with the Manito for his supposed anger, andpointing out its folly, trying to stimulate his indignation on accountof the neglect of himself, and, to tempt his love of presents bypromises, Ohquamehud threw a quantity of tobacco in the leaf, whichthe Indians were accustomed to raise themselves around their cabins, into the flames. But an incident took place, which, for a time, dashed his hopes to the ground, and covered him with mortification andconfusion. 

The day, as we have already intimated, was unusually hot, even for themonth of June. As the hours advanced, a sultry and slumbrous silencefilled the air, which quivered with the heat. Clouds began to collectin the northwest, and to roll up higher and higher towards the zenith, in immense waves, which darkened momently, until half the heavensseemed covered with a pall. The lightning began to play morefrequently over the surging blackness, and the mutterings of thethunder became every instant louder. Ohquamehud was not altogetherunaware of the approaching storm, but, engaged in the solemn rite, theappearances of the clouds had not attracted as much of his attentionas otherwise they would have done. At the instant he threw the tobaccointo the fire, the blackness of the clouds was intensest, and a grimsilence, as if nature were waiting in anxious expectation of somegrand event, brooded over the earth interrupted only by the shout ofthe cataract; then, a thunderbolt blazed almost in the eyes of theIndian, followed, instantly, by a crash, as if the solid rocks weresplintered into fragments, and by a torrent of rain, pouring, notin drops, but, in one continuous flood. For a few moments, the raincontinued falling violently, then gradually slackened and ceased. Thelightning glittered less frequently; the threatenings of the thunderbecame less distinct, and the clouds rolled up their dark standardsand dispersed, disappearing in the depths of the unfathomable sky. 

The Indian, meanwhile, remained immovable, staring at the fire inwhich the rain hissed as it fell. Thus, like a statue, he stood, untilthe storm had rolled away; then, recovering from his stupefaction, heturned, despondingly, from the heap of ashes. His offering, then, hadbeen rejected. The Manito either could not or would not assist him. Onontio bore a charmed life. He was a great medicine, beyond the powerof his vengeance. Ohquamehud, with a frown upon his brow, dark as thefolds of the departing clouds, strode several steps from the rock, when, turning, as if struck by a sudden thought, he commencedsearching in the ashes. The surface, of course, was soaked; but, ashe penetrated deeper, they were drier, and at the bottom he foundunextinguished coals. He carefully searched round, to discover ifany portion of the tobacco was unconsumed, but could find none. Theoffering had not, then, been rejected. The Manito had accepted it. It was not he who sent the storm. Perhaps, some other Manito, who, however, was unable to defeat the sacrifice. The countenance ofOhquamehud brightened, and he began again to collect the brushand scattered sticks. From hollows, in the butts of old trees, andrecesses under projecting cliffs, he succeeded in finding enough dryfuel to start the fire anew, and soon it shot up a bright bold flameas before. "O, Manito!" he softly said, "thou art not angry--receivemy gift. " Again, he threw tobacco into the fire, and, this time, noportent interposed. The greedy flame seized upon the dry leaves, whichcrackled in the heat, and bore them on its shining billows high intothe air. The fire continued burning till all was consumed, and theheap sent up only a spiral of indistinct smoke. 

The importunity of Ohquamehud had wrung from the Genius the consentwhich he solicited. The gratified Indian stretched out his hand, andagain spoke--

"O, Manito, thanks! The heart of Ohquamehud is strong. When hejourneys towards the setting sun, his feet shall bound like those of adeer, for the scalp of Onontio will hang at his girdle. "

He glided into the woods and disappeared, ignorant that any one hadbeen a witness of his actions. But, Quadaquina, from an evergreenthicket, had watched all his motions. As the form of Ohquamehud becamedimmer in the distance, the boy could not repress his exultation atthe success of his ambush, but gave it vent in a whistle, imitatingthe notes of the whipperwill. It caught the ear of the Indian, and heturned, and as he did so, the boy threw himself on the ground. The sunhad hardly set. It was too early for the bird to be heard, which nevercommences his melancholy chant until the shades of evening are spreadover the dewy earth. The eyes of Ohquamehud sent sharp glances in thedirection whence the whistle came, but he could discern nothing. Helistened for awhile, but the sounds were not repeated, and wonderingwhat they could mean--for he relied too implicitly on his sensesto suppose his imagination had deceived him--he resumed his coursehomeward. Presently, Quadaquina slowly rose, and, perceiving no one insight, followed in the same direction. 

The boy, at first, walked deliberately along; but, after, as hesupposed, a considerable interval was interposed between him and theIndian, he quickened his steps, in order to more at about the samerate as the other. He had cleared the clumps of trees next to theFalls, and crossed the open fields, and advanced some little distanceinto the belt of continuous woods along the river, when, suddenly, Ohquamehud, starting from behind the trunk of a large tree, stoodbefore him. Quadaquina's heart beat quicker, but no outward signbetrayed emotion. 

"What does a child like Quadaquina, mean by wandering so far in thedark away from its mother?" demanded Ohquamehud. 

"Quadaquina is no longer a child, " answered the boy, "to need hismother. He runs about, like a squirrel, in the woods, whenever heplease. "

"Quah! He is more like a bird, and it is to take lessons from thewhipperwill, that he comes into the woods. "

"Ohquamehud talks like a crow that knows not what he says. "

"When next, " said the Indian, with a laugh, "Quadaquina tries to be abird, let him remember that the bashful whipperwill likes not the sunto hear his song. "

The boy fancying that he had been discovered, and that any furtherattempt at concealment was vain, answered boldly, "It is no concern of Ohquamehud, whether Quadaquina is a bird, or asquirel, or a fish. He will fly in the air, or swim in the water, orrun in the woods without asking permission from any one. "

"And Ohquamehud is not a rabbit to be tracked by a little dog whereverhe goes. _Ahque_! (beware). He will strike the little dog if hepresses too close upon his heels. " So saying, and as if to giveemphasis to his words, the Indian lightly touched the shoulders of theboy, with a small stick which he held in his hand. 

It was like lightning falling in a powder-magazine, so suddenly blazedup the anger of Quadaquina, when he felt the touch of the rod. Hejumped back as though bitten by a snake, and snatching up a stone, hurled it with all his strength at Ohquamehud. It was well that theIndian leaped behind a tree near which he stood, else the missile, with such true aim and vindictive force was it sent, might have provedfatal. As soon as the stone was thrown, the Indian stepped up to theboy, who stood trembling with passion, but observing no intention onthe part of the latter to renew his violence, he passed close by him, with a contemptuous laugh, and pursued his way, Quadaquina following, though at some distance, in his steps. The boy came into the hut ofPeéna within a short time after the entrance of the Indian, nor couldthe most jealous eye have detected in either a trace of what hadhappened. Ohquamehud moved with a grave dignity to the seat he usuallyoccupied, and his pipe presently sent grateful volumes of smokethrough the cabin. He noticed, however, that when Quadaquina camein, his mother made no inquiry into the cause which had detained himbeyond the hour of the evening meal, and this confirmed the suspicionsthat were floating in his mind. They were indeed vague, and he fanciedthat if for any reason he had been watched by Quadaquina, the lessonhe had just given would intimidate the boy, and satisfy him therewould be danger in dogging the steps of one so vigilant as himself, and who had avowed his intention to punish the offender, if he werecaught again. 

Quadaquina, when they were by themselves, related to his mother whathe had witnessed at the Falls, but made no allusion to the quarrelbetwixt Ohquamehud and himself, nor of the threats of the former. He could give no account of the address to the Manito, the distancehaving been too great to allow him to hear the words. His story causedno alarm to Peéna, inasmuch as acquainted with the superstitions ofthe Indians, she ascribed the sacrifice to a desire to propitiate theManito, in order to secure a fortunate journey to the western tribe. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

 But love itself could never pant For all that beauty sighs to grant, With half the fervor hate bestows Upon the last embrace of foes, When grappling in the fight, they fold Those arms that ne'er shall lose their hold; Friends meet to part; love laughs at faith: True foes, once met, are joined till death!

 BYRON'S _Giaour_. 

Pownal, upon parting with Esther, sought his father. But theexpression of his apprehensions was so vague, he was so incapable ofgiving his fears any definite shape, that he made no more impressionthan the woman. The calm austerity of the Solitary's face almostmelted into a smile at the idea that any event could occur except inthe determined course of things. It was the pride of the human heart;it was the presumption of the human intellect that dreamed of freedomof choice or of action. If individual wills were permitted to crossand jostle each other, the universe would be a scene of confusion. Freedom was only in appearance. One grand, serene, supreme willembraced the actual and the ideal in its circle, and all things weremoved by a law as certain and irresistible as that which impels worldsin their orbits. The conviction was a part of Holden's self. He couldno more be convinced of its fallacy than of his own non-existence, andhis son left him with the full assurance that, even were he to knowthat his life was menaced, he would be the last one to take anyprecautionary measures for its protection. But, in truth, the fears ofPownal were so slight, that after an allusion to them, he forbore todwell upon the subject, especially as the conversation took a turn asinteresting to him as it was unexpected. 

"Thou art of an age, my son, " said Holden, abruptly, "to take to theea wife, and the bounty of the good man whose name I permit thee stillto bear, hath placed thee in a condition to gratify an innocent andnatural desire. Hath thy heart moved at all in this matter?"

The question was excessively embarrassing, and the young man blushedand hesitated as he replied, that there was yet abundant time to thinkof such things. 

"Think not, " said the Solitary, observing his son's hesitation, "thatI desire to intrude into thy confidence, though the heart of a sonshould be like a clear stream, the bottom of which may be seen by afather's eye. I speak, because partly common fame, and partly my ownobservation, connect thy name in some wise with a young lady's. "

"And who is the lady, " inquired Pownal, laughing, "whom my indiscreetgallantry has so compromised?"

"Nay, if thou wilt not be frank with me, or choosest to reply in thelanguage of trifling, we will drop the subject. "

"I will be frank. I will answer any question you may ask. "

"Tell me, then, is there any relation between thee and Anne Bernardtenderer than that of common acquaintance?"

Pownal expected the question, and was therefore prepared. 

"I esteem Miss Bernard highly, " he said. "I am acquainted with noyoung lady who is her superior. I should consider myself fortunate toattract her attention. But nothing, except the language of friendship, has passed betwixt us. "

"I am satisfied, " said Holden, "and it is evidence of excellence inthyself that one possessing the lovable and noble qualities of Anneshould attract thee. But though, in the limited circle of the smalltown, thy presence may be acceptable in the withdrawing room of thewealthy lawyer, thinkest thou he will be willing to give thee the handof his only daughter?"

"I have made no pretensions to the hand of Miss Bernard; and even if Idid, I see in it no presumption. There is no distinction of patricianand plebeian in this country. "

"There are no such names, and yet there is a distinction. Will itplease the rich and polished Judge to ally his daughter with the sonof one like me?"

"Judge Bernard is above the mean conceit of valuing himself uponhis riches. I never heard anything that sounded like arrogance orsuperciliousness from him, and he has uniformly treated me withkindness. For yourself, dear father, though for reasons of your ownyou have chosen to lead hitherto this life of solitude and privation, why continue to do so? Why not leave this miserable hut for comfortsmore befitting your age and the society you are capable of adorning?"

"Forbear! In this miserable hut, as thou callest it, I found the peacethat passeth understanding, and its walls are to me more glorious thanthe gildings of palaces. If thou lovest Anne Bernard, as I stronglysuspect, I say not unto thee cease to love her, but wait, hoarding thylove in secrecy and silence, until the fullness of the time is come. Wilt thou not promise me this, for a short time?"

"I will do nothing, father, that may be contrary to yourinclinations. "

"It is enough: then let there be no change in thy conduct. If thouhave the love of Anne, keep it as a precious jewel, but for thepresent be content with the knowledge thereof: if thou have it not, seek not thereafter. I promise thee it shall be for thy good, nor willI unreasonably try thy patience. "

Here the interview ended, and Pownal departed, wondering over themystery his father affected, though he could not but confess tohimself there was a worldly wisdom (as he supposed it to be) in theadvice, not to be precipitate, but to watch the course of events. Though unacquainted with the motives of his parent, he was bound torespect his wishes, and felt a natural desire to gratify him to theextent of his ability. He had never found him unreasonable, whatevermight be his singularities, and besides, no plan of his own wascrossed. He was obliged to admit the possibility of a failure of hissuit. To break up the pleasant relations existing betwixt the Bernardfamily and himself; not to be allowed to approach Anne as before; acold constraint to be substituted for a confiding friendship! No, thehazard was too great. Things should continue as they were. He and Annewere still young: there was time enough; his father was right; thecounsels of age were wiser than those prompted by the rashness andimpetuosity of youth. 

The following morning was calm and warm, when Holden stood at the doorof his cabin, on the second occasion we choose to intrude upon hisdevotions. Not a cloud was to be seen, and the pearly hue whichoverspreads a clear summer sky, just stealing out of the shades ofnight, had not disappeared, except in the eastern quarter of theheavens, where a faint suffusion heralded, like a distant banner, theapproach of the sun, welcomed, at first, by the low twittering of thebirds, which gradually increased in frequency and loudness, until theyswelled into bold strains, and rose melodiously into the air. 

The Solitary stood, as before, with eyes fixed steadfastly upon thekindling east. Could it be possible that an expectation, whichhad been so often disappointed, should still be cherished; that noexperience, no arguments could dissipate the delusion? It would seemso. By that subtle process, whereby minds possessed by an engrossingidea convert facts, and language, and any circumstances, howevertrifling, and which, to well-balanced intellects, would seem butlittle adapted to the purpose, into proofs incontrovertible of theiropinions, had he, by dwelling upon certain texts of Scripture, which, with a mad shrewdness, he had collated, imparted to them giganticproportions, and a peculiar coloring, which dominated and threw lightupon the context, but received no qualification or disparagement inreturn. Without the necessity of repetition, various passages willoccur to the reader, which, taken out of connection with what precedesand follows, may easily be made to support a theory of the kind he hadadopted. 

Holden stood as before, obedient to the command to watch, and verilydo we believe, that had he, indeed, seen the Son of Man in the cloudsof heaven, the magnificent vision would have impressed him with asmuch joy as solemnity. But in vain he looked, and having waited untilthe yellow sunshine, like a shower of gold, fell all around him, heretired into his hut. Not unobserved, however. The Indian, Ohquamehud, with his rifle by his side, from his place of concealment, on theright shore, had been watching all his motions. There had he lain inambush ever since the stars had deserted the sky. Patiently he lay, with his eyes fixed on the little island. The sun mounted higher; hourafter hour passed away, and yet he moved not. The time for the noondaymeal arrived, but he heeded it not. The hut of Peéna was scarcelymore than a couple of miles distant, and he might reach it in a fewmoments, but he stirred not. In the interval of his absence Onontiomight leave the island, and go, he knew not whither, and his watch forthe day would be in vain. And now the lengthening shadows were fallingtowards the east. The middle of the afternoon had arrived. 

It was then Ohquamehud saw Holden, or Onontio, as he called him, leavehis cabin and enter the canoe. Its bow was turned toward that bank ofthe river on which the Indian was concealed, but somewhat higher upthe stream, and, impelled by a vigorous arm, the light boat skimmedrapidly over the water. It passed so near to the Indian, that a bulletsent from a steady aim must have brought inevitable death, and thethought crossed the mind of the lurking spy, whether it were notbetter to fire from his ambush, but the recollection of his adventureon the island, and of his offering to the Manito of the Falls, occurred to him, and he allowed the tempting opportunity to escape. 

Holden having run the canoe upon a sandy beach that curved in betweentwo rocks, fastened it by a rope to a heavy stone, and pursued hiscourse along the shore in the direction of the village. The Indianfollowed at a distance in the woods, taking care to keep his ownperson concealed, but that of the pursued in sight. Ohquamehud had nomeans of determining from the movements of Holden, for a considerabletime, what were his intentions, whether to enter the village or go tothe Falls, but when he reached the spot where, if his design had beento do the latter, he would have turned to the left, to the Indian'sbitter disappointment, he advanced up the road to the right. Ohquamehud pretty much gave up all hope of succeeding in his designthat day, but, notwithstanding, still continued his observation. Holden did not proceed far before he entered a small house that stoodby the roadside. (This delay, as we shall presently observe, wasattended with important consequences. ) The person whom the Solitarywanted to see was, probably, not at home, but whatever may have beenthe reason, he presently left the house, and retracing his steps, struck off, to the delight of Ohquamehud, across the fields, and in adirection towards the Yaupáae. The Indian waited until Holden was outof sight, hidden by the woods on the opposite side of the field, whenhe slowly followed, looking around, as if in search of game. Havingreached the woods, he seemed to think it necessary to use greaterprecaution in his further approach, the nearer he came to his enemy. With this view, he moved slowly, carefully avoiding stepping on anydry sticks or fallen branches, and stopping if, by any chance, hemade the slightest noise. One would have supposed such extreme cautionunnecessary, for so loud was the incessant roar of the cataract, thatwhere the Indian stood the keenest hearing could not, even within afew rods, have detected the noise made by walking. It is probable thathabit, quite as much as reflection, determined the proceeding of theIndian. 

With stealthy tread, creeping like the catamount of his nativeforests, when he is about to leap upon his prey, the wily andrevengeful Indian stole along, holding his rifle in his hand, whileeach sense was quickened and strained to the utmost. The wood extendedquite to the margin of the Falls, so that he was enabled to come nearwithout exposing his person. At length, from behind a large oak, oneof the original Sachems of the wood, he beheld his foe. Holden wasunarmed, for though, at certain times of the year, when game was inseason, he often carried a gun, it was not an uniform practice withhim. He stood, unconscious of danger, with his back to the Indian, hisarms folded, and gazing upon the water, that roared and tumbled below. The eyes of Ohquamehud gleamed with ferocious satisfaction as hebeheld his foe in his power. Thrice he raised the rifle to hisshoulder, after carefully examining the priming, and as often letthe butt slide gently to the ground, pausing a little while each timebetween, and never taking his eyes off the victim. This conduct mightbe mistaken for irresolution. Far from it. The fell purpose of thesavage never burnt more intensely; his hatred was never more bitter;and he was debating with himself whether to shoot the Solitary as hestood, nor allow him to know his destroyer, or to rouse him to hisperil, to play with his agonies, and thus give him a foretaste ofdeath. Holden was at a distance of not more than fifty feet; beforehim were the precipice and the Falls, behind him was the Indian; therewas no retreat. The fiendish desire agitating Ohquamehud was the sameas that which the savages feel when they torture a prisoner at thestake, and delay the fatal stroke that is a mercy. He felt sure of hisprey, and after a short period of hesitation, determined to gratifythe diabolical passion. 

He stepped softly from behind the oak, and glided onwards, until thedistance betwixt himself and Holden was reduced to thirty feet. The back of the latter was still towards the Indian, and he seemedabsorbed in contemplations that shut his senses to the admissionof outward objects. Again Ohquamehud paused, but it was only for amoment, and then uttered in a distinct tone the word, "Onontio. "

The sound caught the ears of Holden, who instantly turned, and beheldthe threatening looks and attitude of the savage. He comprehended, atonce, the hostile purpose of Ohquamehud, and the imminence of his owndanger, but betrayed not the slightest fear. His cheek blanched not. His eye lost none of its usual daring as he surveyed the assassin; nordid his voice falter, as, disguising his suspicions, he exclaimed--

"Ohquamehud! he is welcome. He hath come to listen to the voice of theGreat Spirit, who speaks in the Yaupáae. "

"Onontio is mistaken, " said the Indian. "The eyes of Ohquamehudare sharp. They have seen the blood of his kindred on the hands ofOnontio, and he will wash it off. "

"Indian, thou hast discovered--I know not how--that I once bore thename you have mentioned. It was given to me in the days of madness andfolly by the western tribes. But, my hands are unstained by any blood, save what was shed in fair and open warfare. "

"Ha! Onontio hath forgotten the fight in the night of storms, on thebanks of the Yellow Wabash, when the sister of Ohquamehud was slainand his brother pierced by the knife of the accursed pale face, withthe curling-hair. "

"Indian! I sought to save the maiden's life. I can show the scar Ireceived in her defence. As for thy brother, I know naught of him. Ifhe fell by me, it was in the manner in which one brave warrior meetsanother. "

"It is a lie! The heart of the pale-face is fainting. He is a weasel, that tries to creep through a small hole. "

"If I were armed thou wouldst not dare to speak thus, " said Holden, some of the spirit of his youthful years flashing up. "But, go; thouart a coward to come armed against a defenceless man. "

"Onontio is a fool! Who told him to leave his rifle in his lodge? Heknoweth not so much as a beast or a reptile. When the bear roameth inthe forest, doth he leave his claws in his den, or the rattlesnake, his teeth in the hole in the rocks? Let Onontio sing his death-song, but, softly, lest the north wind bear it to the cub, who is waitingfor the second bullet in the pouch of Ohquamehud. "

A pang of inexpressible agony cut, like a knife, through the heartof Holden. He could brave death himself, but, good God! that his sonshould be murdered by the savage! The thought was too horrible. For amoment, the courageous heart almost stopped, and, with quivering lips, he commended the young man to the protection of Providence. But themomentary weakness soon passed away, as the dogma of divine decreesor fate occurred to his mind. The blood flowed freer in his veins; hisform straightened, and with a dignified gesture, he answered--

"Heathen! I have no death-song to sing. The Christian goeth not to hisMaker, boasting of his fancied merits, but, like a child, hiding itsface in its mother's bosom, and asking to be forgiven. And know thatof thyself thou art powerless. Thou canst do only what is permitted. "

"It is well!" exclaimed Ohquamehud, a glow of admiration, at thecourage with which Holden met his fate, flashing--in spite ofhimself--across his countenance, and which he vainly tried toconceal. "The dog of a pale-face is tired of his life, and will thankOhquamehud for sending him to the spirits of his fathers. "

So saying, he raised the rifle to his shoulder and fired. The eyes ofthe Solitary had been intently fastened upon every motion of his foe, and, the instant before the gun was discharged, he threw his armsviolently into the air. Whether the gesture disconcerted the aim ofthe Indian, or intemperance had weakened his nerves, the riflewas aimed too high and failed of its mark. But Holden's escape wasextremely narrow. The bullet grazed his scalp, perforating the cap, and throwing it from his head. In the colloquy, he had, probably, determined upon his line of conduct; for, immediately, upon the flash, he started, with an activity which his appearance hardly promised, towards his antagonist, and before the latter could club his rifle ordraw a knife, had seized him around the waist, and strove to throw himon the ground. The Indian dropped the useless gun, and returned thedeath-grapple. 

"Child of the devil!" cried Holden, whose passions were now thoroughlyroused, and who fancied himself back again to the time when he foughtthe red man of the West, "I will send thee, this day, to the placeappointed for thee. "

Ohquamehud answered not a word, but, straining the other in an embraceas close as his own, summoned all his powers to the deadly struggle. 

The two were more equally matched than might at first be supposed. The Indian was more active, but Holden was stronger, and towered abovehim. The habits of Holden had been eminently conducive to health andstrength. There was no superfluous flesh about him, and his sinewswere like cord. But, on the other hand, the youth of the Indian wasa great advantage, promising an endurance beyond that to be expectedfrom one of the years of Holden. 

With desperate struggles each strove to gain an advantage; butstrength on the one side, and activity on the other, foiled theiropposing exertions. The turf was torn up under their feet, and theywere whirled round, now in this direction, and now in that, until, maddened by the contest, neither thought of his personal safety, nor heeded the frightful abyss on the brink of which they fought. Atlength, foaming and endeavoring to throttle each other, the foot ofone tripped and he stumbled over the precipice, carrying the otherdown with him in his arms. The grappled foes turned over in the air, and then fell upon the edge of a projecting shelf of a rock, some halfa dozen feet below. Ohquamehud was undermost, receiving the full forceof the fall, and breaking it for Holden, who, as they touched therock, threw one arm around the trunk of a small tree that grew outof a fissure. The Indian must have been stunned, for Holden felthis grasp relax, and, still clinging to the tree, he endeavored towithdraw himself from the other's hold. He had partially succeeded, when the Indian, recovering consciousness, made a movement that threwhis body over the precipice, down which he would have fallen had henot blindly caught at the freed arm of Holden, which he clutchedwith the tenacity of despair. The Indian had now recovered from thestunning effect of the fall, and become sensible of his danger. Inrolling over the edge of the rock, his moccasined feet had come intocontact with a slight projection where his toes had caught, and bymeans of which, Holden, as well as himself, was relieved in part ofthe weight of his person. Using this as a support, he made repeatedand frantic attempts to spring to the level surface, but the steepnessof the rock, and the lowness at which he hung, combined with theexhaustion occasioned by the fierce and prolonged conflict, foiledevery effort. At last, he abandoned the attempt to save himself ashopeless, and directed all his exertions to drag his enemy downwith him to destruction. With this view, he strained, with all hisremaining strength, upon the arm he grasped, in order to force Holdento let go his hold upon the tree. It was now a question of endurancebetween them, and it is probable that both would have perished, hadnot an unexpected actor appeared upon the scene. 

The boy Quadaquina had been watching Ohquamehud. Like a trainedblood-hound, he had kept faithfully on the track and scarcely let theIndian out of sight until he, came near the village. Here he was metby a playmate, with whom, like a child as he was, he stopped to amusehimself for a moment. This was the cause of his not arriving sooner, the delay corresponding nearly with the time Holden was detained byhis visit. The boy now came running up, all out of breath, and gazedaround, but saw no one nor heard a sound, save the roar of the Fall. His eyes fell upon the gun of the Indian, and the cap of the Solitary, lying on the trampled turf, and his mind foreboded disaster. Hehastened to the margin of the beetling crag, and peering over it, sawOhquamehud hanging by Holden's arm, and struggling to pull him down. Quadaquina stepped back, and from the loose stones lying round, pickedup one as large as he could lift, and going to the edge, dropped itfull upon the head of Ohquamehud. The Indian instantly let go hishold, falling a distance of eighty feet, and grazing against the sideof the huge rock on his way, until with a splash he was swallowed upin the foaming water that whirled him out of sight. 

Quadaquina watched the body as it went gliding down the rocks, anddashing into the torrent, until it could be seen no more, and then, as if terrified at his own act, and without waiting to see what hadbecome of the man to whom he had rendered so timely a service, startedon a run for his home. 

As for Holden, upon the weight being withdrawn from his arm, he slowlygathered himself up and sat upright on the rock; nor did he knowto what he owed his deliverance. He possibly ascribed it to theexhaustion of his foe. He felt jar'd and bruised, but no bones werebroken: his heart swelled with thankfulness, and raising his eyes toheaven, he poured forth a thanksgiving. 

"The enemy came against me, " he ejaculated, "like a lion that isgreedy of his prey, and as it were a young lion lurking in secretplaces. But thou didst arise, O Lord, thou didst disappoint him andcast him down; thou didst deliver my soul from the wicked. For thoudidst gird me with strength unto the battle, thou didst enlarge mysteps under me, that my feet did not slip. He was wounded that he wasnot able to rise. He fell under my feet. It was Thy doing, O Lord, because thou hadst respect unto the supplications of thy servant. Therefore my lips shall greatly rejoice, when I sing unto Thee, and mysoul which thou hast redeemed. "

After this expression of his thanks, he clambered with somedifficulty, by the assistance of the shrubs that grew in the crevicesalong the sloping platform, until he had attained to the top of therock whence he had fallen. He cast his eyes below, but nothing was tobe seen but the wild torrent: no sign, no trace of the Indian. Holdenshuddered as he thought of Ohquamehud, cut off in his atrociousattempt, and breathed a prayer that his savage ignorance mightpalliate his crime; then exhausted and sore, and pondering thefrightful danger he had escaped, slowly took his way towards thevillage. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

 But is there yet no other way besides Those painful passages, how we may come To death, and mix with our connatural dust? "There is, " said Michael, "if thou will observe The rule of _not too much_, by temperance taught. "

 MILTON'S PARADISE LOST. 

 Till oft converse with heavenly habitants, Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape, The unpolluted temple of the mind, And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, Till all be made immortal. 

 COMUS. 

The shades of evening were falling as Holden entered the village. Heproceeded straight to the house of Mr. Armstrong, whom he had seentwice or thrice already since his return from New York, though we havemade no mention of the visits. 

He found Armstrong thinner and paler than ever. The constitutionalmelancholy with which he was afflicted appeared to have deepened, andthere was something now in the tones of his voice so sad and tender, that they moved Holden to an extraordinary degree. Other friends ofArmstrong were affected by them, but, with the exception of Faith, there was no one who seemed to lay these signs of unhappiness so muchto heart as the Solitary. This, perhaps, may account, in a measure, for the increased frequency of his visits. 

A smile like sunshine stealing from behind a wintry cloud over thepure snow, welcomed Holden. As he took the offered hand of Armstrong, he found it extenuated and cold, and pressed it with more thanordinary feeling, before he took a seat by his side. The first inquiryof the Recluse was, as usual, after Faith. 

"She is out, " answered her father, "but I expect her soon. "

"The sight of Faith is to me as the beauty and fragrance of days longgone, " said Holden. "Unsinning Eve was not more lovely. "

"She was early dedicated to her God, and is, indeed, a meet offeringfor his altar, " said Armstrong. 

"Blessed are they, " exclaimed Holden, "whose feet have never strayedfrom the straight and narrow way. Where they tread spring up immortalflowers, and they breathe the air of Paradise. "

"And, alas!" said Armstrong, "how short is usually their stay. Howsoon they depart for the celestial regions, to which they belong, leaving breaking hearts behind!"

"Woe to the earth-born selfishness, that riseth up in opposition!It is not agreeable to the law of God, nor can be. Down with therebellion of ignorance and unbelief. "

"But is no allowance to be made for human weakness? May we not weepover the calamities of life?"

"Aye, weep, if the tears wash out a sin, but not because the divinewill is different from thine own. What callest thou calamity? There isno calamity, but sin. "

"It is hard, " sighed Armstrong, "to reach that height of abnegationand faith to which you would have me aspire. "

"Hard, but attainable, for without faith it is impossible to pleaseHim. There are examples set before us for imitation of what thetrusting spirit can achieve. By faith Abraham offered up Isaac when hewas tried, having confidence that God could raise him up even fromthe dead. By faith--but why should I recount the deeds of those grandsouls, of whom the world was not worthy, who, through faith, subduedkingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouthsof lions, quenched the violence of fire, even from Enoch, who tastednot the bitterness of death, and Elijah, mounting on a fiery chariot, in a whirlwind, to heaven, down to these latter days, when, as saidthe apostle, 'faith should wax weak, and almost perish from theearth?'"

Armstrong looked at Holden, with an expression like fear. 

"Who is equal to these things?" said he. 

"I knew a man once, " said the Enthusiast, thinking of the peril he hadjust escaped, and darkly shadowing forth its circumstances, "whom aravening lion sought to destroy, and the heart of the man sunk withinhim, for, in view of the beast, he forgot that the Lord God omnipotentreigneth, but an angel whispered it in his ear, and strengthened him, and he defied the lion, and smote him, and killed the lion. Thus doththe Lord continue to perform his marvellous works, for he is faithfuland true, and his mercy endureth for ever to them that love him. "

Of course, Armstrong could have no correct idea of what Holden alludedto, nor did he inquire. It was to him only another instance, added byhis enthusiastic friend, to the long catalogue of those in thesacred record, for whom faith had triumphed over danger, and wroughtdeliverance. 

"It is, indeed, " he said, "a mighty means to bring down the divineblessing. "

"As is the law of gravitation to the worlds, " said Holden, looking outupon the clear sky, filled with stars, "which is the constant forceflowing from the living centre of all things, and retaining them inharmonious movement in their orbits; so is faith to the human soul. When it is present all is peace, and harmony, and joy; when it isabsent, a wild chaos, whirling in darkness and confusion, over whichthe Spirit hath never brooded like a dove. "

At this moment the door opened, and Miss Armstrong, attended byWilliam Bernard, entered the room. She advanced towards Holden, andgave him her hand, which he took into both of his, and looking fondlyat her, said:

"Dear child, thy mother's image, the room is brighter for thypresence. "

"There, William, " said Faith, smiling, "a lady seldom receives sodelicate a compliment. "

"Mr. Holden, " said Bernard, "belongs to the old school of politeness, of which Sir Charles Grandison is the model. Modern degeneracy mightstrive in vain to compete with it. "

There was a slight, a very slight, an almost imperceptible tone ofirony about the words, which did not escape the sensitive ear ofHolden. He turned towards Bernard, and fastened his large eyes uponhim, in silence, awhile, before he said:

"The secret of politeness is to be found in warmth and goodness ofheart. Flame blazes not up from ice. " The words, the tone, the look, conveyed his estimate of the character of the young man, and was notwithout influence on one, at least, of his auditors. "But, " continuedhe, "thy presence, Faith, is truly, to me, as light. Deemest thou mecapable of unmeaning compliments?"

"No, " answered Faith, suspecting the little feeling of resentment, anddesirous to soothe it, "I do not. Forgive my absurd observation. "

"And I hope, " said Bernard, in his most engaging manner, "that Mr. Holden is not offended at my classing him among those who for delicacyand refinement were never surpassed. "

"I like not, " said Holden, "to be made a subject of conversation. Wewill find a fitter topic. "

"You spoke of Faith's resemblance to her mother, " said Mr. Armstrong, "whose quick sensibility had also detected the jarring string; how didyou discover it?"

"You forget, " answered Holden, "that in conversation with me you havespoken of her. "

"But not described her appearance. "

"The resemblance of a child to a parent, may be oftentimes deducedfrom qualities of the mind, and traits of character. The outer garmentis fitted to the interior man. The exterior and transient is theproduct of the interior and permanent. But I mean not that it was thusI discovered the likeness; and if for a moment I misled thee, letme correct my error and thy mistake. You will consider these as thespeculations of a visionary. "

"I do not consider them without foundation, " said Armstrong, who, in the turn given to the conversation, seemed to have forgotten hisquestion. 

"It is a speculation which, followed out, might lead to manyinteresting conclusions, " said Bernard. "Mr. Holden would greatlyoblige us with his ideas. "

"Do, " said Faith, who delighted in the Solitary's flights. "Explain, dear Mr. Holden, your theory. "

Holden looked at Mr. Armstrong, who bowed. 

"The first man, Adam, " said Holden, "was created perfect, perfect inbody as in mind. The dignity and beauty of his person correspondedto the grandeur and purity of his soul, of which it was the outwardexpression. All graces and harmonies, and perfections of creationcentered in him, for he was the image of his Maker. He was incapableof disease, because disease is disharmony and the fruit of sin, whichas yet existed not. And he was obedient unto the voice of the Lord, nor did he transgress His laws in anything. His meat was the herb ofthe field and the fruit of the tree, and his drink the running brook. He had no permission to eat of flesh. But in an evil hour he fell; aleprosy overspread his body and his soul; the divine purity couldnot approach as before; and to his closed spiritual eyes, the holyPresence once visible, became shrouded in clouds and thick darkness. And as the spirit of man waxed more corrupt and he withdrew himselffurther from his heavenly source, so did his outward appearance, by anecessary law, whereby the outer and superficial conformeth itself, to the inner and hidden, become deformed and hideous. Hence is man nowbut a shadow, a skeleton of original beauty. The primeval perfectionand present degeneracy of man, are the tradition of centuries. "

Holden paused; and Faith said, gently, "There is a way to regain thehappiness we have lost. "

"There is a way, " said Holden, "through Him, the second Adam, the Lordfrom heaven. But mark: like him, must man be obedient. A faith withoutworks is fruitless and naught. How many imagine they have faith, and have it not! Will they give their bodies to be burned? Will theysacrifice the dearest thing they have, if it is His will? Nay, butfaith hath almost perished from the earth. "

Bernard observing Holden wandering from his subject, here inquired, "And by a reversal of the process by which it was lost, the outwardbeauty may be recovered?"

"Yes. By the restoration of internal beauty. It is the latter thatshapeth and shineth through the former. But the eyes of men areblinded, and they cannot, because they will not, see the truth. Thecrust of inherited corruption interposeth betwixt them and the light. Hence, having eyes they see not, and ears, and they cannot hear. Thereis a law to control the spiritual, and a law for the material, and itis by observance of these two laws, that man's first estate is to beregained. He must, therefore be temperate, and sober, and wise in theregulation of his appetites and passions, banishing those perniciousinventions, whereby he degradeth and engendereth disease in a gloriousstructure that ought to be the temple of the Holy Ghost, and mustdiligently cultivate all noble aspirations, weeding out selfishnessand gross desires, loving his neighbor as himself, and the Lord hisGod with all his heart, which latter is the admiration and love ofbeauty, and truth and justice, and of whatever is excellent. Thus bothoutwardly and inwardly will gradually be transformed, the marred anddefaced image of humanity into the glorious likeness of the Son ofGod. "

"That day so longed for and so glorious, is far distant I fear, " saidMr. Armstrong. 

"Nay, but the signs of His coming are kindling in the Eastern sky, "exclaimed Holden, "and soon amid the hymns and hallelujahs of saintsshall he establish His benign and resplendent empire. Then shallcommence the upward career of the race, whose earthly goal is thestate of primeval perfection; whose heavenly it hath not entered intothe heart of man to conceive. Then in that bright Millennium, whoseradiance streams through the advancing ages, shall man cast off theslough of ignorance and sin, and rise like the painted butterfly, onthe wings of faith, into the serene air of truth. "

Our readers must not hold us responsible for the sentiments of Holden. They are his own, and no one's else, and expressed in his own words, with all their wildness and incoherence. Opinions like these seemto have prevailed at all periods of the Christian era. They wereentertained in the times of the Apostles, and are cherished now by amodern sect. Milton alludes to them in his treatise "Of Reformation inEngland" in language which for its stately eloquence, deserves to betranscribed to enrich this page. He speaks "of that day when Thou, theeternal and _shortly-expected_ King, shalt open the clouds to judgethe several kingdoms of the world, and distributing national honorsand rewards to religious and just commonwealths, shalt put an end toall earthly tyrannies, proclaiming thy universal and mild monarchythrough heaven and earth; when they undoubtedly, that by their labors, counsels, and prayers, have been earnest for the common good ofreligion, and their country, shall receive above the inferior ordersof the blessed, the regal additions of principalities, legions, andthrones, into their glorious titles, and in super-eminence of beatificvision, progressing the dateless and irrevoluble circle of eternity, shall clasp inseparable hands with joy and bliss in over-measure forever. "

His auditors never thought of reasoning with or contradicting theEnthusiast. They listened in silence, only when he paused, making someinquiry or suggestion, in order to induce him to develop his notionsstill further; and so in conversation of this kind passed the evening. 

Upon the departure of Bernard, Holden was pressed to pass the nightat his host's, and accepted the invitation. The events of the dayhad proved to be too much for even his iron frame, and he was notunwilling to be relieved of the long walk to his hut. Before retiring, he listened reverently to a chapter from the Bible, read by Armstrong, and joined with him and Faith, in their customary devotions. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

 No man who sinks to sleep at night Knows what his dreams shall be; No man can know what wonder-sight His inner eye shall see. 

 THOMAS L. HARRIS. 

When Holden was left alone in his chamber, he sank into a seat andcovered his face with both hands. He remained in this position forsome time, and when he removed them, it was very pale, and exhibitedtraces of strong emotion. He cast his eyes slowly around theroom, examining every part, not even the furniture escaping minuteobservation. But of all the objects a portrait that hung over thefire-place attracted the most attention. It was that of a man, pastthe prime of life, and who in youth must have possessed considerablebeauty. The features were regular and well-formed, the forehead highand broad, and the hair long and abundant, waving in curls over theshoulders. What was the age designed to be portrayed, it wasdifficult to determine with any degree of exactness, for there was acontradiction between the parts which appeared scarcely reconcilablewith one another. Looking at the furrows that seamed the face, itspallor, and the wrinkles of the brow, one would have said that theoriginal must have been a man between sixty and seventy, while thehair, dark and glossy, indicated much less age. Yet, the perfection ofthe drawing, the flesh-like tints that melted into each other, andthe air of reality that stamped the whole, proclaimed the portrait thework of a master, and it was impossible to avoid the conviction thatit was an authentic likeness. 

Holden placed the candle on the mantelpiece in such a manner as bestto throw light upon the picture, and stood at a little distance tocontemplate it. As he gazed, he began to fancy he discovered traitswhich had at first escaped his observation. An expression of pain andanxious sadness overspread the face, and gleams of light, like theglare of insanity, shot from the eyes. So strong was the impression, and so deeply was he affected, that as if incapable of enduringthe sight, he shut his eyes, and turning away, paced several timesbackwards and forwards, without looking up. After a few turns, hestopped before the portrait, and fixed his eyes upon it again, butonly for a moment, to resume his walk. This he did repeatedly, untilat last, with a groan, he dropped into a chair, where, crossing hisarms upon his breast, he remained for awhile lost in thought. Who cansay what were the reflections that filled his mind? Was he consideringwhether the painter meant to delineate insanity, or whether it was nota delusion springing from his own disordered intellect?

It was a long time before sleep visited the Solitary in his softand curtained bed. It might be owing to the events of the day, sostartling and unusual; it might be on account of the yielding bed, so different from his own hard couch; or in consequence of the effectproduced by the portrait; or of all these causes combined, that sleepwas long in coming, and when it did come, was disturbed with dreams, and unrefreshing. Before, however, Holden fell asleep, he had lain, asif under the influence of a spell, looking at the picture on which thebeams of the moon, stealing through the branches of the large elmthat shaded the house, flickered uncertainly and with a sort of wierdeffect, as the night wind gently agitated the leaves. 

It seemed to Holden, so insensibly glided his last waking thought intohis dreams making one continuous whole, that the portrait he had beenlooking at was a living person, and he was astonished that he hadmistaken a living being for a piece of painted canvas. In a stern, deep voice the man who had taken possession of the chair in which hehimself had been sitting, ordered him to approach. If Holden had beenso disposed, he had no ability to disobey the command. He, thereforeadvanced towards the figure, and at a signal knelt down at his feet. The man, thereupon, stretching out his hands, laid them upon his headin the attitude of benediction. He then rose from his seat, and makinga sign to Holden to follow him, they noiselessly descended the stairstogether, and passed into the moonlight. The man constantly precedinghim, they went on, and by familiar paths and roads, and in theordinary time that would be required to accomplish the distance, arrived at a spot on the banks of the Wootúppocut well known toHolden. Here the stranger stopped, and seating himself upon the trunkof a felled tree, motioned to his companion to be seated. Holdenobeyed, waiting for what should follow. Presently he saw two figures, a male and female, approaching. The latter was veiled, and althoughthe face of the man was exposed, it swam in such a hazy indistinctnessthat it was impossible to make out the features. Still it seemed tohim that they were not entirely unknown, and he tormented himself withineffectual attempts to determine where he had seen them. He turned tohis guide to ask who they were, but before he could speak the strangerof the portrait placed his fingers on his lips, as if to requiresilence. The two persons advanced until they reached a small brookthat babbled down a ravine, and fell into the river. Suddenlysomething glittered in the air; the figures vanished; and upon lookingat the brook Holden beheld, to his horror, that it was red like blood. He turned in amazement to his guide, who made no reply to the look ofinquiry, unless the word "Friday, " which he uttered in the same deeptone, can be so considered. 

Holden awoke, and the sweat was standing in great drops on hisforehead. As his senses and recollection were gradually returning, hedirected his eyes towards the place where the portrait hung, half indoubt whether he should see it again. The beams of the moon no longerplayed upon it, but there was sufficient light in the room to enablehim to distinguish the features which now, more and more distinctlyemerged to sight. The hollow eyes were fixed on his, and the word"Friday" seemed still quivering on the lips. 

Holden lay and thought over his dream. With the young and imaginative, dreams are not uncommon, but with the advanced in life they areusually unfrequent. As the fancy decays, --as the gay illusions thatbrightened our youth disappear, to give place to realities, --as theblood that once rushed hurriedly, circulates languidly--farewell tothe visions that in storm or sunshine flitted around our pillows. 

It cannot, indeed, be said that Holden never had dreams. The excitabletemperament of the man would forbid the supposition, but, even withhim, they were uncommon. He turned the one he had just had over andover again, in his mind; but, reflect upon it as he pleased, he couldmake nothing out of it, and, at last, with a sense of dissatisfactionand endeavoring to divert his mind from thoughts that banished sleep, he forgot himself again. 

His slumbers were broken and harassed throughout the night, withhorrid dreams and vague anticipations of further evil. At one time hewas at his cabin, and his son lay bleeding in his arms, pierced by thebullet of Ohquamehud. At another, Faith was drowning, and stretchingout her hands to him for succor, and as he attempted to hasten to herassistance, her father interfered and held him violently back. And atanother, he was falling from an immeasurable height, with the grip ofthe Indian at his throat. Down--down he fell, countless miles, througha roaring chaos, trying to save himself from strangulation, until, just as he was about to be dashed to pieces against a rock, he awokesore and feverish. 

The sun was already some distance above the horizon as Holden rosefrom his troubled slumbers. The cool air of morning flowed with arefreshing sweetness through the open window, and the birds weresinging in the branches of the large elm. With a feeling of welcome hebeheld the grateful light. He endeavored to recall and reduce to somecoherency the wild images of his dreams, but all was confusion, whichbecame the more bewildering, the longer he dwelt upon them, and themore he strove to untangle the twisted skein. All that he could nowdistinctly remember, were the place whither he had been led, and theword spoken by the portrait. 

When he descended to breakfast, both Mr. Armstrong and his daughterremarked his disordered appearance, and anxiously inquired, how he hadpassed the night. To these inquiries, he frankly admitted, that he hadbeen disturbed by unpleasant dreams. 

"You look, " said Mr. Armstrong, "like the portrait which hangs in thechamber where you slept. It is, " he continued, unheeding the warninglooks of Faith, "the portrait of my father, and was taken a short timebefore he was seized with what was called a fit of insanity, and whichwas said to have hastened his death. 

"How is it possible, dear father, you can say so?" said Faith, anxiousto prevent an impression she was afraid might be made on Holden'smind. 

"I do not mean, " continued Armstrong, with a singular persistency, "that Mr. Holden's features resemble the portrait very much; but thereis something which belongs to the two in common. Strange that I neverthought of it before!"

Holden during the conversation had sat with drooping lids, and asad and grieved expression, and now, as he raised his eyes, he said, mournfully--

"Thou meanest, James, that I, too, am insane. May Heaven grantthat neither thou nor thine may experience the sorrow of so great acalamity. "

Faith was inexpressibly shocked. Had any one else spoken thus, witha knowledge of Holden's character, she would have consideredhim unfeeling to the last degree, but she knew her father'sconsiderateness and delicacy too well to ascribe it to any other causethan to a wandering of thought, which had of late rapidly increased, and excited in her mind an alarm which she trembled to give shape to. Before she could interpose, Armstrong again spoke--

"Insane!" he said. "What is it to be insane? It is to have facultiesexalted beyond the comprehension of the multitude; to soar above thegrovelling world. Their eyes are too weak to bear the glory, and, because they are blind, they think others cannot see. The foolsdeclared my father was insane. They say the same of you, Holden, and, the next thing, I shall be insane, I suppose. Ha, ha!"

Holden himself was startled. He muttered something indistinctly beforehe answered--

"May the world never say that of thee, dear James!"

"Why not?" inquired Armstrong, eagerly. "Alas! you consider meunworthy to be admitted to the noble band of misunderstood andpersecuted men? True, true! I know it to be true. My earthly instinctsfetter me to earth. Of the earth, I am earthy. But what shall preventmy standing afar off, to admire them? What a foolish world is this!Were not the prophets and apostles denounced as insane men? I have it, I have it, " he added, after a pause, "inspiration is insanity. "

Holden looked inquiringly at Faith, whose countenance evinced greatdistress; then, turning to Armstrong, he said--

"Thou art not well, James. Perhaps, like me, thou hast passed adisturbed night?"

"I have, of late been unable to sleep as well as formerly, " saidArmstrong. "There is a pain here, " he added, touching his forehead, "which keeps me awake. "

"Thou needest exercise. Thou dost confine thyself too much. Go moreinto the open air, to drink in the health that flows down from thepure sky. "

"It is what I urge frequently on my dear father, " said Faith. 

"Faith is an angel, " said Holden. "Listen to her advice. Thou cansthave no better guide. "

"She shall redeem my soul from death, " said Armstrong. 

When Holden left the house of his host, he determined to carryinto effect a resolution which, it appeared now to himself, he hadstrangely delayed, such was the influence what he had just seenand heard exercised over him. That Fate or mathematical Providence, however, in which he so devoutly believed, notwithstanding he acted asthough none existed, seemed as if, tired out with his procrastinationand irresolution, determined to precipitate events and force him tolift the veil, that for so many years--with a wayward temper and loveof mystery, inexplicable by any motives that regulate the movements ofordinary minds--he had chosen to spread around himself. What followedonly convinced him more thoroughly, if that were possible, of hishelplessness on the surging tide of life and of the delusion of thosewho imagine they are aught but bubbles, breaking now this moment, nowthat, according to a predetermined order. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

 We receive but what we give And in our life alone does nature live. 

 COLERIDGE. 

Mr. Armstrong was disposed to gratify his daughter, and to follow theadvice of Holden. That very morning, soon after the departure of theSolitary, he accepted an invitation from Judge Bernard, to take adrive with him to one of his farms in the afternoon. Accordingly, the one-horse chaise, which was the usual vehicle in those days, of gentlemen who drove themselves, stopped, late in the day, atArmstrong's door. 

"Anne hopes, " said the Judge, as they were about to start, "that inretaliation for my capture of your father, Faith, you will come andtake possession of her. For my own part, if I can bring him back witha little more color in his cheeks, I shall expect a kiss or two. "

"You shall have three, dear Judge, for every smile you can win fromfather, " exclaimed Faith. 

The road which the gentlemen took, led, at first, after leavingthe table-land on which their houses were situated, through thethickly-settled and business part of the town, at the head of theSevern, the whole of which it traversed, and then approaching thebanks of the Wootúppocut, followed its windings in a direction towardsits source. The country through which the river flowed presented anappearance of soft and varied beauty, the view of which, while thecool breeze across the stream fanned the fevered brain of Armstrong, ought, if anything could, to have soothed his jarring nerves, andbreathed a portion of its own tranquillity into his heart. Is it nottrue what the sweet poet sings of Nature and her lover, that

 "She glides Into his darker musings with a mild And gentle sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware?"

The river, for the greater part of the drive, flowed through a valley, which it divided into two very unequal portions, skirting occasionallywith its left bank the woods that ran quite down the sides of thehills to the water, and then winding away to the right, leavingconsiderable intervals of level land betwixt itself and the woodsabove mentioned, but, almost invariably, having still wider expansesof champaign, that gradually ascended from the stream, until it metthe forest-covered hills that bounded the valley, on the right. Insome instances, the woods extended on both sides down to the river, throwing an agreeable shade over the way-farers, and shedding abroada cool, moist freshness, that brought with itself a woodland-scent, compounded of the fragrance of sassafras, and fern, and sweet-briar, and mosses, and unknown plants. Then, again the road would run fora considerable distance through an open space, unshaded by trees, tocross, a little further on, another belt of woods, thus making theirdarkened recesses doubly grateful from the contrast of alternatinglight and shade, while all along the stream murmured a soft expressionof thanks for the lovely country it irrigated, for the blue sky, thatmirrored itself in its bosom with floating clouds, for the sunshinesparkling on its ripples, and for the overhanging woods, and birds, that sung among the branches. 

The disordered spirit of Armstrong was not insensible to the charm. He gazed round, and drank in the beauty by which he was surrounded. He scented the sweetness of the woods, and it seemed to impart anagreeable exhilaration. In the pauses of the conversation, hithertocarried on almost entirely by Judge Bernard, he listened to themonotonous, yet soothing flow of the water, and it sounded like aninvitation to cast off trouble. As he listened the shooting painin his head diminished, his thoughts became less sombre, and hesurrendered himself to something like enjoyment. Very soon it seemedas if he were exerting himself to be agreeable to his companion, andto make up, by taking a more active part in the conversation, forformer silence and neglect. 

"This clear river, " he said, "this beautiful valley, with its quietwoods, are a blessing to me to-day. It is a pleasure to breathe theair. Has Italy bluer skies?"

"The encomiums of travellers on the skies of Italy are to be receivedby us with some qualification, " answered the Judge. "They are mostlywritten by Englishmen, and the comparison is between the humid climateof England and the drier one of Italy. This being borne in mind, thepraises lavished on Italian skies are just. But as compared with ours, they can boast of little or no superiority in beauty. I have seen asgorgeous heavens in my own country as ever glorified the land of theCæsars. "

"And how is it with the landscape?"

"There we must yield to Europe. We have nothing to be compared withthe grandeur of the Swiss mountains, or the combination of lovelinessand magnificence around the lake of Geneva. "

"But Niagara!"

"Aye, Niagara! unequalled and alone. There can be but one Niagara. "

"And the Alleghany and White Mountains?"

"Fine scenery, but hills in comparison with the mountains ofSwitzerland. "

"And now for the works of man. You must have been struck by thecontrast between the towns in our own country and in Europe. "

"Yes, certainly, the difference is great. "

"In what does it consist?"

"Principally in the newness of the one, and the oldness of the other. There, what one sees reminds him of the past; here, he beholds onlypresentiments of the future. "

"There is a great difference, I am told, and read too, in the style ofbuilding. "

"You may well say that. Here there is no style. Our houses are modelsof bad taste, and pretty much all alike. The time will undoubtedlycome when we shall have a domestic architecture, but it will requiresome years before we get rid of narrow cornices, innumerable smallwindows, and exclusive white paint. "

"You should make allowances for us, " said Armstrong, deprecatingly. "Consider the poverty of a new country, and the material that povertycompels us to use. "

"I am willing to allow the excuse all the weight it deserves, but Icannot understand how poverty can be an excuse for bad taste, or whybecause wood is used, a house may not be made to have an attractiveappearance. I think there are other reasons more efficacious than theplea of poverty, which can, indeed, no longer be made. "

"Come, come, " said Armstrong, "you do not love anything about usPuritans, and your objections, if politeness would allow you tospeak them out plainly, would be found to contain a fling at Calvin'schildren; but hearken, if I cannot find excuses to satisfy even you. "

"I shall listen eagerly, but must correct you in one thing. I not onlylove some things about the Puritans, but some Puritans themselves. "

"Surely, I know it. But now listen to my defence. The first settlementof the country was attended with a great many hardships. The countrywas colder than the immigrants were accustomed to; they arrived in thewinter, and the first thing to be attended to was to secure shelter. Under these circumstances you will admit that attention to theprinciples of architecture was not to be expected. They knocked uphouses as cheaply, and plainly, and rapidly as possible, content ifthey kept out wind and weather. Wood was preferred, because it wascheaper, and quicker worked. Thus lived the first generation. Thecondition of the second was somewhat improved; they had becomeaccustomed to their houses and were tolerably satisfied. The third hadnever seen anything better, and not having the means of comparison, could not make it to their own disadvantage, and finally, as man is acreature of custom and habit, and reverence, they learned to regarda style of building that had sprung out of the necessities of theirancestors, as an evidence not only of good sense, but of good taste. The immigrants, arriving from time to time, might have disabused them, but these would naturally fall into the ways and sentiments of thepeople, and were their tastes ever so ambitious, probably had not themeans to gratify them. This is the origin, and thus is to be explainedthe continuance of American architecture. "

"An architecture, " said the Judge, "that would have driven a Greekout of his senses. But though I will not quarrel with you aboutits origin, does not its perpetuation for so long a time affect thecharacter of our countrymen for taste?"

"It will pass away, " said Armstrong, gloomily, "and with it the sternvirtues that are of more importance than a trifle like this. "

"There can be no connection between an improvement in architecture, and a deterioration of morals. "

"Prosperity brings wealth, and wealth is the means to gratify thecaprices of luxury and taste. Perhaps, at some future day when stoneand marble shall have susperseded wood and brick; and magnificentGrecian and Gothic temples, resplendent in stained glass, taken theplaces of the humble, unpretentious meeting-houses, the thoughtful andjudicious will sigh for those times of primitive simplicity, when anhumble heart was more than an ostentatious offering, and God's wordwas listened to devoutly on hard seats instead of being dozed over incushioned pews. "

"You are becoming gloomy, Armstrong, " said the Judge. "This willnever do. Progress, man, progress I tell you is the word. The world isimproving every day. Banish these sick fancies. "

Armstrong shook his head. "I envy you, " he said, "your hopeful andjoyous spirit, while I know you are mistaken. "

"Well, well, my friend, I wish I could give you a portion of it. Butto come back to where we started from. After finding so much fault, itis time to praise. However we may ridicule the ugliness of our houses, this much must be admitted in favor of our villages and country towns, that in cleanliness and an appearance of substantial comfort, theyinfinitely surpass their rivals in Europe. I do not except thevillages in England. Who can walk through one of our New Englandcountry towns, where majestic elms throw their shadows over spaciousstreets, and the white rose clambers over the front doors of the neat, white painted houses, standing back a rod or two from the street withgardens stretching behind, while Peace and Plenty bless the whole, andnot be grateful for a scene so fair, for a land so fortunate!"

They had now arrived in sight of the Judge's farm-house, which stoodat some distance from the main road, from which a lane planted on bothsides with maples, led to it. As they drove along the Judge pointedout the changes he had made since he became the owner. 

"When I purchased the property, " he said, "the house looked verydifferently. It was stuck full of little insignificant windows thataffected me like staring eyes; its two or three inches of cornicestole timidly out, as if ashamed of itself, over the side, and thewhole wore an awkward and sheepish air. It made me uncomfortable everytime I looked at it, and I resolved upon an alteration. So I shut uphalf the windows, and increased the size where I could, and threwout a cornice, which, besides the merit of beauty, has the practicaladvantage (that is the national word, I believe) of acting as anumbrella to protect the sides against the mid-day heat of the sun insummer, and the storms in winter. Besides, I added the veranda, whichruns nearly the whole length of the front. "

"I confess it is an improvement upon the ancestral style, " saidArmstrong. 

"I expected the acknowledgment from your natural taste, which isexcellent, " said the Judge laughing, "except when corrupted bytraditional prejudices. I must take care of my horse myself, Isuspect, " he added, as they drove up to the door: "the men areprobably all in the fields. He will stand, however, well enough underthis shed. " So saying, and after Armstrong had alighted at the door, he drove the horse under a shed, near the barn, and fastened him; thenjoining Armstrong, the two entered the house. 

"La, Judge!" said Mrs. Perkins, the farmer's wife who received them, smoothing down her check apron, "you take us by surprise to-day. Wedidn't expect you, and the men-folks is all in the lot. Didn't youfind your ride very warm?"

"Not very; and if it had been, the pleasure of seeing you, Mrs. Perkins, would more than compensate for any annoyance from the heat. "

"You are so polite, Judge, " replied Mrs. Perkins, simpering. "Ideclare you are equal to a Frenchman. "

With all his French education, this was a remark the Judge would havebeen willing to dispense with; however on the French principle ofconsidering that as a compliment, the meaning of which is equivocal, he bowed and introduced Mr. Armstrong. 

Mrs. Perkins courtesied. "She'd heard, " she said, "of Mr. Armstrong, and that he had the handsomest daughter, in the town of Hillsdale. "

"It is your turn now, " whispered the Judge. "Let me see how you willacquit yourself. "

But Armstrong was not a man for compliments. 

"Faith looks as well as young ladies generally I believe, " he said. 

Mrs. Perkins did not like to have her pretty speech received with somuch indifference, so she answered, "I was, perhaps, too much in a hurry when I called Squire Armstrong'sdaughter, the handsomest: I forgot Anne, and she's a right to be, sence she's got her father's good looks. "

"Dear Mrs Perkins, you overwhelm me!" exclaimed the Judge, bowingstill lower than before. "I think higher than ever of your taste. "

"Ah! You're poking fun at me, me now, " said Mrs. Perkins, hardlyknowing how to receive the acknowledgment. "But wouldn't you like totake something after your ride?"

Those were not the days of temperance societies, and it would havebeen quite _secundum regulas_, had the gentlemen accepted the offeras intended by their hostess. The Judge looked at Armstrong, whodeclined, and then turning to Mrs. Perkins said, "The strawberry season is not over, I believe"--

"Oh! I can give you strawberries and cream, " interrupted thehospitable Mrs. Perkins. 

"And would you be so kind as to give them to us in the veranda? Thesun does not shine in, and it will be pleasanter in the open air. "

"Sartainly. Eliza Jane!" she cried, elevating her voice and speakingthrough an open door to one of her little daughters, with a bloomingmultitude of whom Providence had blessed her, "Eliza Jane, fetch two cheers into the piazza. That piazza, Judge, isone of the grandest things that ever was. The old man and me and thechildren, take ever so much comfort in it. "

"I am glad you like it. But we will spare your daughter the trouble oftaking out the chairs, and carry them ourselves. "

"Not for the world, Judge, for I think it's best to make childrenuseful. "

Accordingly Eliza Jane brought the chairs, and the mother retiringwith her, soon returned with the little girl, bearing in her handsa tray containing the strawberries and cream. The Judge kissed thechild, and gave her a half dollar to buy a ribbon for her bonnet. 

"I do declare Judge!" cried the mother, whose gratified lookscontradicted the language, "you'll spoil Eliza Jane. "

"A child of yours cannot be spoiled, Mrs. Perkins, " said the Judge, "as long as she is under your eye. With your example before her, sheis sure to grow up a good and useful woman. "

"Well, I try to do my duty by her, " said Mrs. Perkins, "and I don'tmean it shall be any fault of mine, if she ain't. "

It was nearly sunset by the time the gentlemen had finished, when theJudge proposed to visit a piece of wood he was clearing at no greatdistance from the house. Armstrong acquiesced, and they started off, Mrs. Perkins saying, she should expect them to stop to tea. 

Their route lay through some woods and in the direction of theWootúppocut, on whose banks the clearing was being made. As theyapproached, they could hear, more and more distinctly, the measuredstrokes of an axe, followed soon by the crash of a falling tree. Then, as they came still nearer, a rustling could be distinguished among theleaves and the sound of the cutting off of limbs. And now they heardthe bark of a dog, and a man's voice ordering him to stop his noise. 

"Keep still, Tige!" said the voice. "What's the use of making such aracket? I can't hear myself think. I say stop your noise! shut up!"

"It is Tom Gladding, whom Perkins hired to make the clearing, oneof the best wood-choppers in the country. It is wonderful with whatdexterity he wields an axe. "

As the Judge uttered these words, the two gentlemen emerged from thewood into the open space, denuded of its sylvan honors, by the laborsof Gladding. 

The clearing (as it is technically termed), was perhaps a couple ofacres in extent, in the form of a circle, and surrounded on all sidesby trees, only a narrow strip of them, however, being left on themargin of the river, glimpses of which were caught under the branchesand the thin undergrowth. A brook which came out of the wood, ran, glistening in the beams of the setting sun, and singing on its wayacross the opening to fall into the Wootúppocut. The felled trees hadbeen mostly cut into pieces of from two to four feet in length, andcollected into piles which looked like so many altars scattered overthe ground. Here it was intended they should remain to dry, during thesummer, to be ready for a market in the fall. 

"So it's you, Judge and Mr. Armstrong, " exclaimed Gladding as the twocame up. "I guessed as much, that somebody was coming, when I heardTige bark. He makes a different sort of a noise when he gits on thescent of a rabbit or squirrel. "

"I dare say, Tiger knows a great deal more than we fancy, " said theJudge. "Why, Gladding you come on bravely. I had no idea you had madesuch destruction. "

"When I once put my hand to the work, " said Tom, laughing, "down theymust come, in short metre, if they're bigger than Goliah. Me and myaxe are old friends, and we've got the hang of one another prettywell. All I have to do, is to say, 'go it, ' and every tree's a goner. "

After this little bit of vanity, Tom, as if to prove his ability tomake good his boast by deeds, with a few well-directed blows, thatseemed to be made without effort, lopped off an enormous limb from thetree he had just cut down. 

"I've heard tell, " said Tom, continuing his employment of cutting offthe limbs, "that the Britishers and the Mounseers don't use no suchaxes as ourn. You've been across the Big Pond, and can tell a fellowall about it. "

"It is true, they do not. The European axe is somewhat differentlyshaped from your effective weapon. "

"The poor, benighted critturs!" exclaimed Tom, in a tone ofcommiseration. "I saw one of them Parleyvoos once, try to handle anaxe, and I be darned, if he didn't come nigh cutting off the great toeof his right foot. If he hadn't been as weak as Taunton water--that, folks say, can't run down hill--as all them outlandish furriners is, and had on, to boot, regular stout cowhiders, I do believe he'd neverhad the chance to have the gout in one toe, anyhow. Why, I'd as soontrust a monkey with a coal of fire, in a powder-house, as one of themchaps with an axe. "

"We have the best axes, and the most skillful woodmen in the world, "said the Judge, not unwilling to humor the harmless conceit of thewood-chopper. 

"It's plaguy lucky we have, seeing as how we've got so many thousandsand thousands of acres to clear up, " said Tom, with a sort of confusednotion, that the skill of his countrymen was a natural faculty notpossessed by "furriners. " "But, Judge, " he added, "I'm astonished atyour cutting down the trees at this season of the year, and it kind o'goes agin my conscience to sling into 'em. "

"I know what you mean. You think they ought not to be cut when the sapis rising. I suppose, the fire-wood is not so good?"

"Not half. Turn the thing as you choose, and you'll see you're wrong. In the first place, the wood ain't nigh as good; then, you lose thegrowth the whole summer, and, lastly, you take away a fellow frombusiness that's more profitable. "

"How?" said the Judge. "Do I not give you full wages? Can you gethigher wages elsewhere?"

"No fault to find with the pay, " answered Tom; "that's good enough. But, that ain't the idee. What I'm at is, that when I work, I like tosee something useful come to pass. Now, every time I strike a blow, it seems to go right to my heart; for, I says to myself, this ain't noseason for cutting wood. The Judge don't understand his own interest, and he's only paying me for injuring him. "

Judge Bernard was too well-acquainted with the honest independence ofGladding to be offended at his uncomplimentary frankness. Nor, indeed, looking at it from Tom's point of view, could he avoid feeling acertain respect for that right-mindedness, which regarded not merelythe personal remuneration to be received, but, also, the generalbenefit to be produced. He laughed, therefore, as he replied--

"You do not seem to set much value on my judgment, Gladding. Perhaps, I have objects you do not see. "

"It ain't to be expected, " said Tom, "and it ain't rational tosuppose, that a man, who, when he was young, spent his time travellingover all creation, and then when he come home, took to the law, shouldknow much about these matters; though, I guess you know as much asmost folks, who ain't been brought up to 'em. But, as you say, it'slikely you've got reasons of your own, as plenty as feathers in a bed, and I've been talking like most folks whose tongues is too long, likea darned fool. "

"You are too hard on yourself, now. But, for your consolation, we willstop to-day with this piece of work, and you shall not be pained tocut down any more trees out of season. The clearing is as large asI wish it, and we will see to the burning of the brush, when it isdrier. But, where is Mr. Armstrong?"

Armstrong, at the commencement of the conversation, had strayed awayby himself, and sat down by one of the altar-like piles of wood, nearthe margin of the brook. Here he leaned his head on his hand, andseemed lost in meditation. He was in this posture when the exclamationwas made by the Judge, who, on looking round, discovered the missingman, and immediately advanced toward him. So deep was his abstraction, that it was not until his friend's hand rested on his shoulder thathe was aware of the other's presence. He arose, and the two retracedtheir steps together. The sun, by this time, had sunk behind thehorizon, and, as they passed, Gladding threw his axe on his shoulderand joined their company. 

"I'm glad, " said the wood-chopper, as they stepped out of theclearing, and turned to look back upon what he had accomplished, "thatjob's done, and I can turn my hand to something else more like summerwork. "

"Do you mean to proceed no further with your chopping?" inquiredArmstrong. 

"Not at present. All has been done that I desired, and I ought torespect Gladding's conscientious scruples. "

Armstrong looked inquiringly from one to the other, but asked noquestion. 

The hospitable invitation of Mr. And Mrs. Perkins was too pressing tobe resisted, and it was not until the full moon had risen, that thegentlemen departed. The soft beauty of the delicious evening, or someother cause, exercised an influence over Armstrong, that disposedhim to silence and meditation, which his companion perceiving, theyreturned home without exchanging scarcely a dozen words. 

CHAPTER XL. 

 Man is a harp, whose cords elude the sight, Each yielding harmony disposed aright; The screws reversed (a task which if he please, God in a moment executes with ease), Ten thousand thousand strings at once go loose, Lost, till he tune them, all their power and use. 

 COWPER

The aberration of mind of the unhappy Mr. Armstrong was at last withinevitable and steady step approaching its dreaded culminating point. To the outward eye he exhibited but little change. He was indeed, attimes more restless, and his eyes would wander round as if in questof some object that was trying to elude his sight; at one momentlistless, silent, and dejected, and again animated, almost gay, likeone who, ashamed of an exhibition of moody temper, tries to atoneby extraordinary efforts of amiability for the error. His intimatefriends had some knowledge of these changes, and to Faith, above all, living with him in the same house, and in the tender relation ofa daughter to a parent, each of whom idolized the other, they werepainfully apparent, and great was the anxiety they occasioned. Howbitter were the tears which in solitude she shed, and frequent andfervent her supplications to the universal Father to pity and protecther father! How willingly, even at the sacrifice even of her own life, would she have restored peace and happiness to him!

But to the neighbors, to those who saw Armstrong only in public, nogreat change was manifest. He was thinner and paler than usual, to besure, but every one was liable to attacks of indisposition, and therewas no reason why he should be exempt; he did not speak a great deal, but he was always rather taciturn, and when he did converse, it waswith his usual sweetness and affability. They guessed he'd be betterafter a while. 

Such was the common judgment in the little community among those whohad any knowledge of Armstrong's condition. They saw him daily in thestreets. They conversed with him, and could see nothing out of theway. But some few who recollected the history of the family, and thecircumstances attending the latter years of Armstrong's father, shooktheir heads, and did not hesitate to intimate that there had alwaysbeen something strange about the Armstrongs. Curious stories, too, were told about the grandfather, and there was a dim tradition, nobodyknew whence it came, or on what authority it rested, that the originalancestor of the family in this country, was distinguished in thosedays of ferocious bigotry, when the Indians were regarded by many asCanaanites, whom it was a religious duty to extirpate, as much for anunrelenting severity against the natives, bordering even on aberrationof mind, as for reckless courage. 

It is sad to look upon the ruins of a palace in whose halls the gaysong and careless laugh long ago echoed; to contemplate the desolationof the choked fountains in gardens which _were_ princely; and withdifficulty to make one's way through encroaching weeds and tangledbriers, over what once were paths where beauty lingered and listenedto the vow of love; or to wander through the streets of a disentombedcity, or seated on a fallen column, or the stone steps of thedisinterred amphitheatre, to think of the human hearts that here, athousand years agone, beat emulously with the hopes and fears, theloves and hates, the joys and sorrows, the aspiration and despairthat animate or depress our own, and to reflect that they haveall vanished--ah, whither? But however saddening the reflectionsoccasioned by such contemplations, however much vaster the interestsinvolved in them, they do not affect us with half that wretched sorrowwith which we gaze upon the wreck of a human mind. In the former case, that which has passed away has performed its part; on every thingterrestial "transitory, " is written, and it is a doom we expect, andare prepared for; but in the latter it is a shrouding of the heavens;it is a conflict betwixt light and darkness, where darkness conquers;it is an obscuration and eclipse of the godlike. We therefore feel nodesire to dwell upon this part of our history, but, on the contrary, to glide over it as rapidly as is consistent with the development ofthe tale. 

Next after Faith, the faithful Felix noticed, with disquietude, thealteration in his master, and many were the sad colloquies he heldwith Rosa on the subject. Holden in some way or another was connectedin his mind with the cause of Mr. Armstrong's melancholy, for althoughfor several years the latter had not been remarkably cheerful, yet itwas only since Holden's acquaintance had become intimacy, that thatmelancholy deepened into gloom. The simple fellow naturally lookedround for some cause for the effect, and none presented itself soplausible as the one he adopted. 

"I wish, " he had repeatedly said to Rosa, "that the old man would stayaway. I'd see the divil with as much satisfacshum as him. Miss Faithtoo, I am sorry to say, is out of her wits. "

One morning when Felix went up stairs, in answer to his master's bell, he could not avoid remarking on his altered appearance. 

"I hope you will 'scuse me, sir, " he said, "but me and the servantsvery much alarm about you, sir. "

"I am obliged to you, Felix, and to all of you, but really there is nooccasion for any alarm, " said Mr. Armstrong. 

"The case is the alarmingest when the patient doesn't know how sick heis. There was my old friend, Pompey Topset. He was setting up on thebed, when I come in to see him, smoking a pipe. And says he, saysPompey to me, says he, Felix, how do you do? this child never feelbetter. Then he give one puff and his head fall on the breast, andthe pipe jump out of his mouth and burnt the clothes, and where wasPompey! He never, " added Felix, shaking his head, "was more mistakenin all his life. "

Mr. Armstrong was obliged to smile. "So you think me in as dangerous acondition as Pompey was, when he took his last smoke. "

"Bless you, Mr. Armstrong for the sweet smile, " exclaimed, the negro. "If you know how good it make me feel here, (laying his hand on hisheart) you would smile pretty often. I can remember when the wrenwasn't merrier than you, and you laughed almost as much as this foolFelix. " At the recollection of those happy days, poor Felix pressedhis hands upon his eyes, and tried to hide the tears, that in spite ofhis efforts stole through the fingers. "But, " continued he, "I hope inthe name of marcy, that you ain't so bad off as Pompey. That can't be. I only spoke of him for the sake of--of--the illumination. "

"And what would you have me do?" inquired Armstrong, desirous to takeall possible notice of the affectionate fellow. 

"I pufess a high 'pinion of the doctor, " answered Felix. "There is noman who gives medicine that tastes worse, and therefore must be thepowerfullest. I would proscribe the doctor, sir. "

"You would prescribe the doctor? Ah, Felix, I am afraid my case hasnothing to do with his medicines. "

"There is one other thing I should like to mention if I wasn't 'fraidit might offend Mr. Armstrong, " said Felix, hesitatingly. 

"And what is that, Felix? I will promise not to be offended. "

Thus encouraged, Felix ventured to say. 

"I have remark that Mr. Holden come often to see you, and you go tosee him. His visits always seem to leave you kind o' solemncolly like, and all the world is surprise that you are so condescensious to thebasket-man. "

"Enough of this, " said Armstrong, abruptly and sternly. "You permittoo much freedom to your tongue respecting your superiors. Leave theroom. "

Poor Felix, aghast at the sudden change in the manner of his master, precipitately retired, casting back a grieved look, and ejaculatingunder his breath, as he closed the door, "Good Lord!"

"What is the matter with me?" said Armstrong, presently to himself, upon being left alone. "I invite this poor fellow, whose only fault isthat he loves me too much, to speak freely, and then treat him harshlyfor his unintentional impertinence, assuming an importance thatbelongs to no one, and as if we were not worms creeping togethertowards the edge of that precipice from which we must fall intoeternity. Whence springs my conduct but from pride, self-will, selfishness? I would arrogate a superiority over this poor negro. Poornegro! There spoke the pride of your heart, James Armstrong! But wellis he called Felix in comparison with you. Happy in being born of adespised and persecuted race; happy in being condemned to the life ofa servant, to an ignorance that diminishes responsibility; happy inreceiving no good thing here. Strut about, James Armstrong, in purpleand fine linen, but know that for all these things, God will assuredlycall thee to judgment. "

That whole day Armstrong seemed debating some question with himself. He paid less than even his usual attention to what was passing around, and more than once was spoken to without heeding the address. In theafternoon, he started off by himself, saying he might not returnuntil evening. Felix, whose anxiety the rebuff in the morning hadstrengthened and confirmed, watched his master as he left the house, and would have followed to guard him against a danger, the approach ofwhich he instinctively felt, but which he could not see, unless Faith, to whom he thought proper to communicate his intention, had forbiddenhim. She found it difficult to prevent him, so greatly were the fearsof the black excited, on whose mind the motives of delicacy thatinduced Faith to desire to guard the movements of her father fromobservation, cannot be supposed to have exerted so much force. Much doubting and questioning the wisdom of the young lady, yetnot venturing to disobey her, Felix blamed himself for making heracquainted with his design. 

"This child head, " he said, apostrophizing himself, "ain't no betterthan a squash. What made me tell Miss Faith what I were going to do?"

After Armstrong left the house, he continued in the street only alittle way, soon striking across the fields and thus greatly abridgingthe distance he must have passed over had he pursued the high road. The truth is, he was directing his steps towards the very spot hehad visited with Judge Bernard. He reached it, notwithstanding he wasafoot, in much less time than the drive had taken, so rapidly didhe walk when out of sight, and so much was the length of the wayshortened. Upon arriving at the place, he sat down upon the samelog which had been his former seat, and folding his arms sunk into areverie. After the space of an hour, perhaps, thus passed, he rose andcommenced piling up near the brook some pieces of wood which hetook from the heaps about him, making another, differing from themprincipally in being smaller. As he crossed the sticks laid regularlyat right angles upon each other, he filled up the intervals with theloose leaves and dry brush lying around. In this way he proceededuntil he had raised a cube, perhaps six feet long, four wide, and fourhigh. 

During the whole time the work was progressing he seemed to becontending with violent emotions and driven along by some power hevainly tried to resist. Terror, awe, and repugnance were all portrayedupon his countenance. But still the work went on. When it was finishedhe stood off a few steps, and then, as in a sudden frenzy, rushedat, and seizing upon the several sticks of wood, hurled them in everydirection around until the whole pile was demolished. Neglecting hishat that lay upon the ground, he then ran with a wild cry, and at thetop of his speed, bounding, like a wild animal, over the brush andtrunks of trees, as if in haste to remove himself from a dreadfulobject, until he reached the woods, when falling upon his face, helay quite still. After a time he appeared seized with a hystericalpassion; he pressed his hand on his side as if in pain, and heavysobs burst at irregular intervals from his bosom. These finally passedaway, and he sat up comparatively composed. A struggle was stillgoing on, for several times he got up and walked a short distance andreturned and threw himself down on the ground as before. At length, indistinctly muttering, unheeding the blazing sun that scorched hisunprotected head, and lingering as though unwilling to advance, hereturned to the scene of his former labors. And now, as if unwillingto trust himself with any delay, lest his resolution might falter, he proceeded, with a sort of feverish impatience, to reconstruct thepile. Shortly, the pieces were laid symmetrically upon each other asbefore, and the dead leaves and brush disposed in the intervals. Afterall was done, Armstrong leaned over and bowed his head in an attitudeof supplication. When he raised it the eyes were tearless, and hispale face wore an aspect of settled despair. Resuming the hat, thatuntil now had lain neglected in the leaves, he went to the brook andwashed his hands in the running water. 

"Could man wash out the sins of his soul, " he said, "as I washthese stains from my hands! But water, though it may cleanse outerpollution, cannot reach the inner sin. Blood, blood only, can do that. Why was it that this dreadful law was imposed upon our race? But Iwill not dwell on this. I have interrogated the universe and God, andentreated them to disclose the awful secret, but in vain. My heartand brain are burnt to ashes in the attempt to decipher the mystery. Iwill strive no more. It is a provocation to faith. I dare not trustto reason. There is something above reason. I submit. Dreadful, unfathomable mystery, I submit, and accept thee with all theconsequences at which the quivering flesh recoils. "

Upon the return of Armstrong, all traces of violent emotion haddisappeared, and given place to exhaustion and lassitude. Faith had, by this time, become so accustomed to the variable humors of herfather, that, however much they pained her, she was no longer alarmedby them as formerly. It was her habit, whenever he was attacked by hismalady, to endeavor to divert his attention from melancholy thoughtsto others of a more cheerful character. And now, on this day, sofraught with horrors of which she was ignorant, although the silenceof the unhappy man interrupted by fits of starting, and inquiries ofthe time o'clock, revealed to her that he was suffering to an unusualdegree, she attempted the same treatment which, in more than oneinstance, had seemed to be attended with a beneficial effect. Armstrong was peculiarly sensitive to music, and it was to his love ofit that she now trusted to chase away his gloom. When, therefore, inthe evening, she had vainly endeavored to engage him in conversation, receiving only monosyllables in return, she advanced to the piano, andinquired if he would not like to hear her sing?

"Sing! my child?" said Armstrong, as if at first not understanding thequestion; "Oh, yes--let me hear you sing. "

Faith opened the piano, and turning over the leaves of a music book, and selecting a sacred melody as best befitting the mood of herfather, sung, with much sweetness and expression, the following lines:

 How shall I think of Thee, eternal Fountain Of earthly joys and boundless hopes divine, Of Thee, whose mercies are beyond recounting, To whom unnumbered worlds in praises shine?

 I see thy beauty in the dewy morning, And in the purple sunset's changing dyes; Thee I behold the rainbow's arch adorning; Thee in the starry glories of the skies. 

 The modest flower, low in the green grass blushing, The wondrous wisdom of the honey bee, The birds' clear joy in streams of music gushing, In sweet and varied language tell of Thee. 

 All things are with Thy loving presence glowing, The worm as well as the bright, blazing star; Out of Thine infinite perfection flowing, For Thine own bliss and their delight THEY ARE. 

 But chiefly in the pure and trusting spirit, Is Thy choice dwelling-place, Thy brightest throne. The soul that loves shall all of good inherit, For Thou, O God of love art all its own. 

 Upon Thine altar I would lay all feeling, Subdued and hallowed to Thy perfect will, Accept these tears, a thankful heart revealing, A heart that hopes, that trembles, and is still. 

At the commencement of the hymn, Armstrong paid but little attention, but as the sweet stream of melody flowed on from lips on which he hadever hung with delight, and in the tones of that soft, beloved voice, it gradually insinuated itself through his whole being, as it wereinto the innermost chambers of his soul. He raised the dejected eyes, and they dwelt on Faith's face with a sort of loving eagerness, as ifhe were seeking to appropriate some of the heavenly emotion that tohis imagination, more and more excited, began to assume the appearanceof a celestial halo around her head. But it is not necessary to assumethe existence of insanity to account for such an impression. If therebe anything which awakens reminiscences of a divine origin, it is fromthe lips of innocence and beauty, to listen to the pure heart pouringitself out in tones like voices dropping from the sky. The sweetness, the full perfection of the notes are not sufficient to account for theeffect. No instrument made by human hands is adequate to it. Thereis something more, something lying behind, sustaining and floatingthrough the sounds. Is it the sympathy of the heavenly for theearthly; the tender lamentation not unmixed with hope; the sigh of theattendant angel?

Upon the conclusion of the piece, Faith rose and took a seat by herfather. 

"Shall I sing more, father?" she inquired. 

"No, my darling, " answered Armstrong, taking her hand into his. "Dearly as I love to hear you, and although it may be the last time, I would rather have you nearer me, and hear you speak in your ownlanguage; it is sweeter than the words of any poet. Faith, do youbelieve I love you?"

"Father! father!" cried she, embracing him, "how can you ask so cruela question? I know that you love me as much as father ever loved adaughter. "

"Promise me that nothing shall ever deprive you of a full confidencein my affection. "

"I should be most wretched, could I think it possible. "

"But suppose I should kill you this instant?"

"Dear father, this is horrid! You are incapable of entertaining athought of evil towards me. "

"You are right, Faith, but only suppose it. "

"I cannot have such a thought of my own father! It is impossible. Iwould sooner die than admit it into my mind. "

"I am satisfied. Under no circumstances can you conceive a thoughtof evil of me. But this is a strange world, and the strangest thingshappen in it. I speak in this way because I do not know what may cometo pass next. I have always loved my fellow-men, and desired theirgood opinion, and the idea of forfeiting it, either through my ownfault or theirs, is painful to me. But men judge so absurdly! Theylook only at the outside. They are so easily deceived by appearances!Do you know, that of late I have thought there was a great deal ofconfusion in the ordinary way of men's thinking? But I see clearly thecause of the errors into which they are perpetually falling. All thediscord arises from having wills of their own. Do you not think so?"

"Religion teaches, father, that our wills are sources of unhappinessonly when opposed to the Divine will. "

"I knew you would agree with me. And then think of the folly of it. The resistance must be ineffectual. That is a sweet song you sung, but it seems to me the theology of it is not altogether correct. It celebrates only the love of God, and is, therefore, partial andone-sided. He is also a consuming fire. "

"A consuming fire to destroy what is evil. "

"I hope it is so. But do you know that I have been a good dealtroubled lest there might be truth in the doctrine, that Necessity, aniron Necessity, you understand, might control God himself?"

"Why will you distress yourself with these strange speculations, father? There are some things, it was intended, we should not know. "

"Why, " continued Armstrong, "it is an opinion that has beenentertained for thousands of years, and by the wisest men. The oldphilosophers believed in it, and I do not know how otherwise toexplain the destiny of the elect and reprobate. For you see, Faith, that if God could make all men happy, he would. But he does not. "

"I think we ought not to engage our minds in such thoughts, " saidFaith. "They cannot make us wiser or better, or comfort us inaffliction, or strengthen us for duty. "

"They are very interesting. I have spent days thinking them over. Butif the subject is unpleasant we will choose another. I think you lookwonderfully like your mother to-night. I almost seem to see her again. It was very curious how Mr. Holden discovered your likeness to her. "

"I was quite startled, " said his daughter, glad to find her father'smind directed to something else. "I wonder if he could have seen mymother. "

He explained the way in which he found it out. "Was it not ingenious?No one else would have thought of it. He has a very subtle intellect. "

"I was not quite satisfied, " said Faith. "His explanation seemed farfetched, and intended for concealment. I think he must have seen mymother. "

"If that is your opinion, I will inquire into it. But I do not wishto speak of Holden. You have been to me, Faith, a source of greathappiness, and when you are gone, I know I shall not live long. "

"We shall live many happy years yet, dear father, and when our timecomes to depart, we will thank God for the happiness we have enjoyed, and look forward to greater. "

"Your time is at the door, my daughter, " said Armstrong, solemnly. 

"I know that at any moment I may be called, but that does not affectmy happiness, or diminish my confidence, that all is well according tothe counsel of His will. "

"I see thee in the shining raiment of the blessed! I behold thee inthe celestial city!" exclaimed Armstrong. 

It was later than usual when the father and daughter separated thatnight. It seemed as if he were unwilling to allow her to depart, detaining her by caresses when she made suggestions of the lateness ofthe hour, and assenting only when the clock warned that midnight waspassed. Then it was he said:

"I do wrong to keep you up so long, Faith. You should be bright andwell for an excursion I intend to take with you to-morrow. You will gowith me, will you not?"

"I shall be delighted. The clear sky, " she added, walking to thewindow, "promises a fine day. "

"Upon how many new-made graves will to-morrow's sun shine? I wish minewas one of them"

"O, do not say so. You will break my heart. "

"Not willingly. O! I do not pain you willingly. You were not born tosuffer much pain. Living or dying, you will be a pure offering to yourMaker, my daughter. "

"Father, how strangely you talk! You are ill. "

"As well as I shall be in this life. But do not be troubled. To-morrowwill make a change. "

He was near the door when he uttered the last words; and now, asif not daring to trust himself in a longer conversation, he hastilyopened it, and proceeded to his chamber. Faith followed his example, pondering sadly over the conversation. It did not escape her, that itwas more incoherent than usual, but she had seen persons before undergreat religious distress of mind, whose peace was afterwards restored, and she doubted not that, in like manner, her father's doubts wouldbe solved, and his spirit calmed. With, her heart full of him, and herlast thought a petition on his behalf, she fell asleep. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

 'Tis necessity To which the gods must yield; and I obey, Till I redeem it by some glorious way. 

 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 

The next morning was beautiful, like most June mornings. Armstrong, who had not closed his eyes during the whole night, rose with the dawnto wander through his garden, which was a favorite resort. His walk, at first rapid and irregular, as if he were trying to work off anervous excitement, gradually slackened, until it became a firm, composed step. With folded arms and compressed, resolved lips, hepaced up and down the paths. He was living in an interior world. He heard not the singing of the birds, which, in great numbers, frequented the spacious gardens and orchards lying around; he saw notthe beautiful flowers, burdening the air with sweetness; nor the youngfruit, whose progress, through the various stages of its growth, hehad once watched with so much pleasure. His mind went back to the timewhen he was a school-boy with his brother George; when they slept inthe same bed, and associated in the same sports; it then advanced totheir college days, and the face of the beautiful girl, who became hiswife, flitted by him. He thought of that fair face now for many along day, mouldering in the grave, into which he had seen the coffinlowered; then his thoughts reverted to his brother George, so brave, so generous, so strong once, but who presented himself to his visionnow, a livid corpse, dripping with water. Next came his mother, ofwhom his recollection was faint; and then his father, with insanity inhis eyes. He felt, as it were, their presence around him, but it was acompanionship which afforded no pleasure. There seemed to be somethingabout himself that invincibly held them off, notwithstanding theirattempts to approach--a sullen sphere, which projected a dark shadow, only to the edge of which the spirits could come, and which they maderepeated efforts to cross. 

While Armstrong was suffering under these strange delusions, Felixapproached, to call him to breakfast. The black beheld him walkingbackwards and forwards, with orderly and composed steps, andcongratulated himself upon the change since the day before. He hadnot, however, ventured to address his master since being ordered away, and uncertain how he would be received, preferred to be spoken tofirst. With this view, he drew nigh one of the flower-beds, whichArmstrong was passing and re-passing, and pretended to busy himselfwith tying up one of the rose bushes, then in full bloom. Armstrongdid not see Felix as he passed, so deep was his reverie, buton retracing his steps, he observed a shadow on the path, whichoccasioned him to lift his eyes, when he discerned the black. Hestopped and spoke. 

"Felix, " he said, "I was unkind to you yesterday. I ask your pardon. "

"O, Mr. Armstrong, " said Felix, his eyes protruding with astonishment, "there is no 'casion. I say so many foolish things, it is no wonderyou out of patience sometime. "

"No, Felix; it was a fancied superiority that made me speak harshly. You have always been a good and faithful servant, " he continued, taking out his pocket-book, which he opened mechanically, as from theforce of habit, "and I wish I had it in my power to express better mysense of the obligation. But why do I open it?" he said, closing atthe same time, and offering it to Felix. "You will find here what maybe of use to you, though I think there is little enjoyment purchasablewith money. "

"Why! Mr. Armstrong, " cried Felix, stepping back. "What for do I wantmore money? I have enough, and you will please keep it, sir, to givesome poor man if you wish. "

"You are right to despise it, " said Armstrong. "It shows a superiorityof soul. Now here is this poor black, " he went on soliloquizing, though all the time Felix stood before him, "who has learned thatlesson of contentment which the generality never learn. Rich in hispoverty here, an inheritor of the skies, I have only insulted him byso contemptible an offer. " His head sunk upon his breast, his eyesfell upon the ground, his pocket-book dropped from his unconscioushand, and he resumed his walk. The negro stooped and picked it up, saying, to himself:

"Very strange! Mr. Armstrong act as if pocket-book chock fullo' bank-bills grow like chick-weed, but I will take him under myprotecshum till I give him to Miss Faith. "

Upon Armstrong's return from the end of the walk, Felix deliveredhimself of his errand, and his master directed his steps towards thehouse. 

He found his daughter with the breakfast apparatus before her, andlooking as fresh and charming as the morning itself. 

"You have shown better taste than I, father, " she said. "You have beenenjoying the beauty of nature, while I was lying on a downy pillow. "

"Sleep is sweet to the young and healthy, " said Armstrong, "and myselfishness kept you up so late last night, that I do not wonder youare not as early as usual. "

"My late hours have done me no harm. But when shall we take the driveyou promised me?"

"At any time that is most agreeable to yourself. "

"If you refer it to me, I shall not long hesitate. "

"It will make no difference with me. Choose, yourself, my darling. "

"Then, why not this morning, while the air is fresh with the dews ofnight, and before the roads are filled with dust? I anticipate a greatdeal of pleasure, for it seems to me some mystery hangs about thisdrive, and that you are preparing for me a delightful surprise. "

Armstrong started, and an expression of pain gathered over his face. 

"That was earlier than I intended, " he said, "but a few hours can makeno difference. "

"If it is not perfectly convenient; if you have another engagement, put it off later. It was only the loveliness of the morning which mademe select it. "

"I have no other engagement so important, " said Armstrong; "it is ofgreat importance to us both: I ought to gratify any request you canmake, but"--

"Why hesitate, dear father, to make your own choice without regard toa chance expression of mine? I really have no preference contrary toyours. "

"There is no such thing as chance. We will go this morning, mydarling, " said Armstrong, with decision. "I have observed, there aresome persons controlled by a heavenly influence, which prevents theirerring. I have felt it sometimes, and, I think I feel it now. You werealways right from infancy. The influence upon us both is the same, and, I am convinced, we should follow it. "

Accordingly, shortly after breakfast, Faith and her father entered thecoach, which was driven by Felix. The route they passed over was thesame taken by the Judge and Armstrong, and we are, therefore, relievedfrom the necessity of a description. Besides, we are now too muchinterested in Armstrong, to allow us to pay much attention to thebeauties of external nature. Of such infinite worth is a human being;so incalculably grand and precious those faculties and powers whichconnect him with his magnificent source; so fraught with mystery thediscipline he endures, a mystery in which each one endowed with thesame nature, has part, that the natural and the visible shrink intoinsignificance in comparison with the unseen and spiritual. Ofwhat consequence is a world of insensate matter, when brought intocompetition with the immortal spirit?

Vain would be the attempt to describe the tumult of feelings that, like billows of fire, dashed through the soul of the unfortunate man. Sitting, as he supposed, for the last time, by the side of one dearerthan life, his eyes no longer dwelt upon Faith, with that expressionof calm and boundless love, whence she had been accustomed to drink inso much happiness. Yet, was the love all there, but it was a troubledlove, a love full of anguish. What sweetness! what confidence in himhe read in her face! It was like the placid surface of a mountainlake, in which the skies delight to mirror themselves--no emotionhidden, no thought concealed--and, for all this innocent confidence, what was his return? He was entertaining, in his mind, a dreadfulpurpose; carefully concealing it so that it should be beyond thepower of suspicion, and inveigling her into a snare, which, upon beingdiscovered, must fill her young heart with an agony worse than death. But no thought of swerving from his purpose crossed now the mind ofArmstrong. Considerations like these had long been reflected upon, andin connection with others, been able, indeed, to retard the executionof his design, but not, as it seemed, to defeat it. Whatever weightthey might have had, they were obliged to yield to more powerfulantagonists. He was no longer a free agent. A force, as with the gripof a vice, held him fast. A scourge, whose every lash drew blood, asit were, from his heart, drove him on. Beautiful, magnificent, theharmonious and healthy play of the human faculties; horrid, beyondconception, the possible chaos of their diseased action!

Meanwhile, Faith, ignorant of what was passing in her father'smind, endeavored to interest him in the objects which attracted herattention, but in vain. The moment was nigh which was to accomplisha deed, at the bare contemplation of which his whole being revolted;but, to whose execution he felt drawn by a power, as irresistible byhim as is that force which keeps the worlds in their places, by thoserolling spheres. Engrossed, absorbed by one dominating idea, there wasno room in his mind for another. The musical tones of Faith's voice;the smiles evoked for his sake, that played around those lips sweeterthan the damask rose, clustered inevitably about that one thought. But, he felt them as a swarm of angry bees, that eagerly settle upona living thing to sting it into torture. That living thing was hisburning, sensitive heart, quivering, bleeding, convulsed, longing forthe bliss of annihilation. And thus, in an agony far greater than thatwhich the martyr endures in the chariot of flame which is to waft himto heaven, as the sufferings of the immortal spirit can exceed thoseof the perishable body, the insane man pursued his way. How unendingseemed that road, and yet, how he longed that it might extend on forever! Within the time of each revolution of the wheels, an age oftorment was compressed; yet, how he dreaded when they should stop!

But this could not last, and, at length, the coach reached a spotwhere Armstrong proposed they should alight. Accordingly, he assistedFaith out, and, preceding her, they took their way across the fields. Faith, unable to resist the attraction of the wild-flowers scatteredbeneath her feet, stooped occasionally to pick them, and soon had herhands full. 

"What a pity it is, father, " she said, "that we should step upon thesebeautiful things! They seem little fairies, enchanted in the grass, that entreat us to turn aside and do them no harm. "

"It is our lot, in this world, cursed for our sakes, " said Armstrong, hoarsely, "to crush whatever we prize and love the dearest. "

"The flower is an emblem of forgiveness, " said Faith. "Pluck it, andit resents not the wrong. It dies, but with its last breath, exhalesonly sweetness for its destroyer. "

"O, God!" groaned Armstrong. "Was this, too, necessary? Wilt thougrind me between the upper and the nether millstone?"

"What is the matter, father?" inquired Faith, anxiously, catching somewords between his groans. "O, you are ill, let us return. "

"No, my daughter, there is no return. It was a pang like those towhich I am subject. Will they ever pass off?"

They had reached the open space of ground or clearing made byGladding, and Armstrong advanced, with Faith following, directly tothe pile he had built near the brook. 

"What a beautiful stream!" exclaimed Faith. "How it leaps, as if aliveand rejoicing in its activity! I always connect happiness with life. "

"You are mistaken, " said Armstrong. "Life is wretchedness, with nowand then a moment of delusive respite to tempt us not to cast itaway. "

"When your health returns, you will think differently, dear father. Look! how enchanting this blue over-arching sky, in which the cloudsfloat like angels. With what a gentle welcome the wind kisses ourcheeks, and rustles the leaves of the trees, as if to furnish anaccompaniment to the songs of the birds which flit among them, whilethe dear little brook laughs and dances and claps its hands, and tellsus, like itself, to be glad. There is only one thing wanting, father, and that is, that you should be happy. But I wonder why this pile ofwood was built up so carefully near the edge of the water. "

"It is the altar on which I am commanded to sacrifice thee, my child, "said Armstrong, seizing her by the arm, and drawing her towards it. 

There was a horror in the tones of his voice, a despair in theexpression of his face, and a lurid glare in his eyes, that explainedall his previous conduct, and revealed to the unhappy girl the fulldanger of her situation; even as in a dark night a sudden flash oflightning apprises the startled traveller of a precipice over whichhis foot has already advanced, and the gleam serves only to show himhis destruction. 

"Father, you cannot be in earnest, " she exclaimed, dreadfully alarmedat being in the power of a maniac, far from assistance, "you do notmean so. Oh, " she said throwing herself into his arms, "I do notbelieve my father means to hurt me. "

"Why do you not fly? Why do you throw your arms about me? Do you thinkto defeat the decree? Unwind your arms, I say, and be obedient untodeath. "

So saying, with a gentle force he loosed the hold of the faintinggirl, who with one hand embracing his knees, and the other held up todeprecate his violence, sunk at his feet. 

"God have mercy upon us! Christ have mercy upon us, " her pale lipsfaintly gasped. 

"Faith, my precious, my darling, " said Armstrong, with a terriblecalmness, as he drew a large knife out of his bosom, "You know Ido not this of myself, but I dare not disobey the command. It mightendanger the soul of my child, which is dearer than her life. Think, dear child, in a moment, you will be in Paradise. It is only one shortpang, and all is over. Let me kiss you first. "

He stooped down, he inclosed her in his arms, and strained her tohis heart--he imprinted innumerable kisses on her lips, her eyes, hercheeks, her forehead--he groaned, and large drops of sweat stood onhis face, pressed out by the agony. 

"You will see your mother and my brother George, Faith. Tell them notto blame me. I could not help it. You will not blame me, I know. Younever blamed me even in a thought. I wish it was for you to kill me. The father, it would seem ought to go first, and I am very weary oflife. "

He raised the knife, and Faith, with upturned and straining eyes, sawit glittering in the sunshine. She strove to cry out, but in vain. From the parched throat no sound proceeded. She saw the point aboutto enter her bosom. She shut her eyes, and mentally prayed for herfather. At that moment, as the deadly instrument approached her heart, she heard a voice exclaim, "Madman forbear!" She opened her eyes:the knife had dropped from her father's hand; he staggered and leanedagainst the altar. A few words will explain the timely interruption. 

When Armstrong and his daughter left the carriage to cross the field, the mind of Felix was filled with a thousand apprehensions. He wouldhave followed had he dared to leave the horses, but this, his fear ofthe consequences if the high-spirited animals were left to themselves, forbade. With anxious eyes he pursued the receding foot-steps of hismaster and young mistress until they were lost to sight, and then, with a foreboding of evil, hid his face in the flowing mane of one ofthe horses, as if seeking comfort from his dumb companion. Some littletime passed, which to the fearful Felix seemed hours, when, whomshould he see but the man whom of all the world he dreaded most. Itwas Holden, bounding along with strides which showed that thehabits of his forest-life were not forgotten. At any other time theapparition of the Solitary would have imparted anything but pleasure, but now it was as welcome as a spar to a shipwrecked sailor. Holdenadvanced straight to the carriage, but before he could speak the blackaddressed him, "Oh, Mr. Holden, if you love Mr. Armstrong and Miss Faith, go afterthem quick; don't stop a minute. "

"Where are they?" said Holden. 

"They go in that direcshum, " answered Felix, pointing with his chin, across the field. 

"How long ago?"

"Ever so long; Oh, good Mr. Holden, do hurry, " said Felix, whoseanxieties made him magnify the progress of time. 

Holden asked no further questions, but increasing his speed, hastenedon an Indian lope in the direction indicated, following the traces inthe grass. 

As he hurried on, his dream occurred to him. The features of thecountry were the same as of that he had traversed in his sleep:he remembered also, that the day of the week was Friday. As thesethoughts came into his mind, they stimulated him to press on withincreased speed, as if something momentous depended upon the swiftnessof his motions. It was well he did so. A moment later might have beentoo late; a moment more and he might have seen the fair creature heso loved weltering in her blood. Too late to stay the uplifted handof the deranged man with his own, he had uttered the cry which hadarrested the knife. 

Holden stooped down, and taking into his arms the insensible form ofFaith, bore her to the brook. Here he lavishly sprinkled her face withthe cool water, and sobs and deep drawn sighs began, after a time, toherald a return to consciousness. Armstrong followed, and as he sawthe pale girl lying like a corpse in the arms of Holden, he threwhimself down by her side upon the grass, and took her passive hand, which lay cold in his own. 

"She is not dead, is she?" said he. "O, say to me, she is not dead. I thought I heard a voice from heaven--I expected to hear it--whichcommanded me to forbear. Did I disobey the angel? Was he too late?Too late, too late, too late! Oh, she is dead, dead. My Faith, mydaughter, my darling! O, God, it was cruel in thee!"

But presently, as we have said, sighs and sobs began to heave thebosom of Faith, and as she opened her languid eyes their soft lightfell upon the face of her father. 

With a cry of delight he sprang from the ground. "She is not dead, " heexclaimed, "she is alive! I knew it would be so. I knew it was onlya trial of my faith. I knew God would send his angel. He has angelsenough in heaven. What does he want of Faith yet? My darling, " hesaid, getting down and leaning the head of his daughter upon hisbosom, "God did not mean it in earnest. He only meant to try us. It isall over now, and hereafter we shall be so happy!"

Holden, who, when Faith began to revive, had surrendered her to herfather, stood looking on, while tears streamed down his face. Faithhad now so far recovered as to sit up and look about her, and throwingher arms around her father's neck, she hid her face in his bosom. "

"My brain whirls, " she said, "and it seems to me as if I had had adreadful dream. I thought you wanted to kill me, father. "

"No, no, no!" cried Armstrong, "I never wanted to. It was my trial, "he added, solemnly, "and I shall never have another, Faith. God is toomerciful to try a man twice, so. "

"James, " said Holden, and his voice sounded with unusual magnificence, "dost thou know me?"

"Certainly, " said Armstrong; "it is a strange question to ask me. Youare Mr. Holden. "

"I am thy brother George. "

Without a doubt, without a misgiving, Armstrong, still holding hisdaughter, extended his hand to Holden. 

"So, George, " he said, "you have risen from the dead to save Faith'slife. I knew God would work a miracle if it was necessary. "

"I trust I have risen from the death of sin but I have never been inthe grave of which thou speakest. Know that in veritable flesh andblood, I am thy brother George, who hath never tasted of death. "

But this was an idea which Armstrong was incapable of receiving. Heshook his head, and muttering to himself, "Can the dead lie?" lookedsuspiciously at Holden. 

The announcement of the Solitary struck Faith, at once, as the truth. Her mind was in no condition to reason and compare proofs. She onlyfelt how sweet had been her intercourse with him, and how he hadcontrived to make her love and reverence him. She hoped it was true, he was her long lost uncle, and she believed it because she hoped it. 

"My Uncle George!" she said, as attempting to rise she received hisembrace. She could say no more. The agitation of her feelings chokedher voice and vented itself in a flood of tears. 

"What, crying, my darling?" said Armstrong. "This is no time fortears. You should rejoice, for is not George here, who left his graveto save your life, and has not our faith received its triumphantcrown?"

"Alas!" exclaimed Holden, by a word and look conveying his meaning. "As soon as you are able to walk, dear Faith, we had better return toyour home. "

"I think I am sufficiently restored, " she replied, "if you will assistme. "

Holden gave her his arm, and supported her to the carriage, followedwith great docility by Armstrong, who broke out into occasionalsnatches of music, once a common habit, but in which he had not beenknown to indulge for a long time. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

 O, you kind gods, Cure this great breach in his abused nature! The untuned and jarring senses O, wind up!

 KING LEAR. 

As soon as they reached the house of Armstrong, Dr. Elmer was sentfor, and to him Holden communicated the events of the morning, notconcealing his own relationship. This last particular was a case notprovided for in the books, or coming within the scope of the gooddoctor's practice. Contenting himself, therefore, with ejaculating, "Is this the lord Talbot, Uncle Gloster, That hath so long been resident in France?"

he shook Holden by the hand as an evidence of welcome, and, withouthesitation, assented to the propriety of the Solitary's suggestion, that the insanity of Armstrong and his attempted violence, shouldbe kept secret. Rest was prescribed by the doctor for Faith, whom, contrary to her inclinations, he compelled to retire to her chamber, whither he sent a composing draught, with assurances that her fatherwas doing well, which declaration, probably, had quite as much effectin inducing the slumbers that succeeded, as the anodyne. He nextturned his attention to her father. 

No one, without particular observation, would have remarked any changein him. Upon returning home, he had quietly entered the parlor and satdown in a large arm-chair, which was a favorite seat, looking firstaround with a grave and pleased expression. His daughter was with himthen, who, indeed, until the arrival of the physician, had remained byhis side, and nothing seemed to please Armstrong so much as retainingher hand in one of his, to pass the other over her silken hair, andlet it slide down over the pale cheeks, all the time gazing at herwith an appearance of infinite affection. But when the doctor felt hispulse, he found it bounding like a frightened steed; and this symptom, together with the heightened crimson of the cheeks, and deepeningblackness of the eyes, but too plainly revealed the access of violentfever. Bleeding was in vogue in those days, and much practised, andthe skill of Elmer could suggest nothing better for the pressureof blood on the brain, than letting blood. Having had, therefore, Armstrong conducted to his chamber, he opened a vein, and bleeding himtill he fainted, he afterwards administered the medicines he thoughtproper, enjoining the strictest quiet, promising to be with him everymoment that his professional engagements permitted. During the wholeArmstrong was passive, yielding himself like a child to all that wasrequired, and seeming to be in a beatitude, which made whatever mightoccur of but little concernment. As the doctor was about leaving, he accepted of Holden's proposal, which was rather uttered as adetermination, to remain, and send for his son. "If, " thought Elmer, "Holden is Armstrong's brother, he has a right to stay; if not, he hasat least saved Faith's life, as she says herself, and he knows afterall, a 'hawk from a hand-saw. ' Young Holden, too, is a sensiblefellow, and I think I may trust them. " In some such way thronged thethoughts through Elmer's mind. "I will, " he said to himself, "stop asI pass Judge Bernard's house, to let Anne know that her friendFaith is indisposed, and ask her to sleep with her to-night. " Such, accordingly, was, for a short time the composition of the family underMr. Armstrong's roof. 

Once or twice daring the night Faith started in her sleep, and threwher arm around her lovely companion, as if to ask for protection, andAnne heard her moaning something indistinctly; but, on the whole, hersleep was refreshing, and in the morning she awoke, paler, indeed, andweaker than common, but with no other signs of illness about her. 

"They will soon pass off, " said the doctor. "It was a severe shock, but youth and a good constitution are great odds. "

But it was not so with Armstrong. The combined effects of loss ofblood and of the medicines he had taken, were unable to calm theexcitement of the nerves, much less produce drowsiness. All night helay with eyes wide open, burning with fever, and calling for drink. But, although his body suffered, the exaltation of his mind continuedto triumph over pain, and, from the words that escaped him, from timeto time, it would seem as if he felt himself absolutely happy. 

When Doctor Elmer came in the morning, and heard the report of Holden, he expressed no surprise. 

"It is as I supposed, " he said. "He must have a run of fever, and whatthe result may be, no mortal man can divine. Let us hope for the best, while prepared for the worst. "

Faith, from the moment she was permitted, was assiduous by thebed-side of her father. The delusion with respect to Holden, which hadtaken possession of him, whom, while continuing to recognize as hisbrother, George, he would not believe was alive, fancying it was hisspirit, extended itself after a time to his daughter, whom also hebelieved to be dead. So far as could be gathered from the disjointedutterances that escaped him, he supposed that his own spirit wastrying to escape from the body, and that the spirits of his brotherand daughter had been sent to comfort and assist him. 

Thus tossing and tumbling on a heated bed, which the delicious breathof June, streaming through the open windows, could not cool for him, passed nine long wretched days, during which the confinement of bothHolden and Faith was almost incessant, for whenever either moved fromthe bed or made a motion as if to leave the room, Armstrong wouldintreat them, in the most touching tones and pathetic language, whichneither the brother's nor daughter's heart could withstand, not toleave him, for he was just then ready, only one more struggle wasnecessary, and he should be free. And besides carrying into hisinsanity a habit, of which we have spoken, he would insist on holdingtheir hands. The touch of their heavenly bodies, he said, sent asensation of roses and lilies through his earthly body; they refinedhim and attracted him upward, and he was sure he had sometimes risen alittle way into the air. "O!" he would exclaim, "I never knew before, how much flowers resemble spirits. They smile and laugh alike, andtheir voices are very similar. "

On the tenth day the fever abated, and Armstrong gradually fell intoa long, deep sleep. So long, so profound was the slumber that theattendants about his bed feared that it might be one from which therewas no awaking. But the orders of the doctor, who, at the crisis waspresent the whole time, were peremptory that the patient should notbe disturbed, but Nature allowed, in her own way, to work out herbeneficent purposes. Armstrong then slept many, many hours, in thatstill and darkened room, while attentive ears were listening to thedeeper drawn breath, and anxious eyes watching the slightest change ofcountenance. 

At last he awoke, and the first word he spoke, so low, that even inthe hushed chamber it was scarcely audible, was, "Faith. " A smile ofwonderful sweetness illuminated his face, as he tried to extend hishand, white as the snowy coverlet on which it rested, toward her, butso weak was he, that only a motion of the fingers could be perceived. Faith, through the tears which fell upon the hand she covered withkisses, could mark the light of returned intelligence, and her heartswelled with an almost overpowering emotion. 

"O, doctor, " she said, turning to Elmer, "say he is safe. "

"I hope so, " answered Elmer, "but control yourself. I forbid allagitation. "

The life of Armstrong, for some days longer, vibrated in thebalance. So excessive was the weakness consequent upon the tremendousexcitement through which he had passed, that sometimes it appearedhardly possible that nature could sufficiently rally, to bring thedelicate machinery again into healthy action. But stealing slowlyalong, insensibly, the gracious work went on, until one day theanxious daughter had the happiness to hear from the lips of the doctorthat her father was out of danger. 

It seems a strange thing, but so it is, that the events of thedreadful day, when, as if by a heavenly interposition, his hand hadbeen arrested when raised to take away the life of his daughter, and also of the time when he lay insane upon his bed, were blottedcompletely from the memory of Armstrong. The scratches of a school-boyon a slate were never more perfectly erased by a wet sponge. All hisconduct proves this. When he beheld his brother after the return ofreason, he addressed him as Mr. Holden, and never, in conversationwith any one, did he make allusion to his aberration of mind. Norduring the short period while he remained on earth, did he know of hisconduct on the banks of the Wootúppocut. The secret was confined tothe bosoms of a few, and it was mutually agreed that it was wisest itshould be concealed. 

It was not until the health of Armstrong seemed completely restoredthat his brother, in the presence of his son and of Faith, disclosedhis relationship. He had made it known before to his son, to whom, aswell as to his father, we must, for the brief period our acquaintancewith them continues, give their true name of Armstrong. It may well beconceived, that young Armstrong had no objections to recognize in thelovely Faith a cousin, nor was she unwilling to find a relative in theamiable and intelligent young man. 

But, if they were pleased, how shall we express the happiness of JamesArmstrong? The sting of a sorrow that had poisoned so many years ofhis life was extracted. If he had been the cause of misfortune to hisbrother, he had it now in his power to repair, in a degree, the wronghe had inflicted. Nor had he recovered only a brother, but alsoa nephew, whom he could love and respect, and who would, in somemeasure, supply the loss of his son, by transmitting his family name, the extinction of which no man can regard with indifference. 

Long was the conversation of the brothers after their children hadleft them to themselves. Together they wandered over the scenes ofchildhood, recalling its minutest, and, what would be to strangers, uninteresting scenes, George Armstrong listening, with a sad pleasure, to the details of his parents' lives after his own escape from theAsylum, and, also, to changes in the family of his brother since theirdeath; while James Armstrong as eagerly drank in the particulars ofhis brother George's adventures. But little respecting the latter needbe added, after what has been disclosed. 

We already know, that George Armstrong married, in one of the WesternStates, and commenced the life of a pioneer, and that, in a nightattack, his cabin had been burned, his wife killed, and his soncarried away by the savages. It would seem that the effect of thesemisfortunes was again to disturb his reason, and that, urged by apassion for revenge, he had made himself terrible, under the name ofOnontio (given by the natives, with what meaning is unknown, ) amongthe Western Indians. But, after a time, the feeling passed away, andhe became, somehow, a subject of religious impressions, which assumedthe shape of a daily expectation of the Coming of Christ, joined witha firm belief in the doctrine of predestination. In this frame ofmind, influenced by a feeling like the instinct, perhaps, of the birdwhich returns from the southern clime, whither the cold of winter hasdriven it, to seek again the tree where hung the parental nest, GeorgeArmstrong came back to the place of his birth. He was supposed tobe dead, and, even without any such prepossession, no one would haverecognized him; for, the long beard he had suffered to grow, and thesorrow and hardship he had undergone, gave him an appearance of muchmore advanced age than his elder brother, and effectually disguisedhim. Why, instead of taking possession of the cabin, on Salmon Island, and secluding himself from society, he did not make himself known tohis brother and demand his inheritance, always puzzled the gossips ofHillsdale, and yet, it appears to us, susceptible of explanation. 

When he came from the West, he felt, at first, as if the ties whichhad united him to the world, were broken, never to be renewed. What hemost prized and loved he had lost. He was an exception to othermen. He had been isolated by destiny, whose iron finger pointed tosolitude, and solitude he chose as most congenial to his bruisedspirit. But, besides, an idea had mastered him, in whose presence thevanities and indulgences of the world and all worldly considerations, shrunk into insignificance. Of what consequence were wealth anddistinction to one who looked momently for the introduction of a stateof things, when they would be of less importance than the baubles of achild? The gay world might laugh and jest in its delusion, but it wasfor him to watch and pray. Some feeling of resentment, too, towardshis brother, may have helped to color his conduct. As time, however, wore on, his heart began to expand to human affections; for wehave seen, how fond he became of the society, first, of Faith, and, finally, of his brother; deriving, possibly, a sort of insanegratification from even the concealment of his relationship, as amiser gloats over the security of his hoard. It is, indeed, probable, that, but for the discovery of his son, he would have died withoutbetraying the secret, but, that discovery awakened anew feelings whichhe never expected to have again in this life. He looked upon hisson and the inheritance, which to him was valueless, assumedan importance. And it may be--who can tell?--that, sometimes, adoubt--for how long had he waited in vain?--might throw a shadowover his expectation of the Millennium. But this we have no meansof determining, and, as we shall presently see, his subsequent liferather sustains the opposite opinion. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

 By his great Author man was sent below, Some things to learn, great pains to undergo, To fit him for what further he's to know. 

 This end obtained, without regarding time, He calls the soul home to its native clime, To happiness and knowledge more sublime. 

 ALLAN RAMSAY

The period of time which has elapsed since the occurring of the eventsdetailed in the preceding chapters, enables us to give a tolerablyfull account of the destiny of the actors, who, for the space of a fewmonths, have flitted across our stage. 

James Armstrong lived in the enjoyment of pretty good health some twoyears after his recovery. The melancholy with which nature had tingedhis disposition was, indeed, never quite eradicated, but probablythose two years were the sweetest and sunniest of his life. Those whomhe most loved were prosperous and happy, and the reflection of theirhappiness shone upon his daily walk. At the end of that time he fellasleep, and in the confidence of a lively faith and the comfort ofa holy hope, was gathered to his fathers. Immediately upon therestoration of his reason he had divided his estate with his brother, or rather with his nephew, for the Solitary refused to have anythingto do with wealth. It would be to him, he said, a burden. He was not apack-horse, to carry loads, though they were made of gold. 

With whatever eyes, however, the possession of property mightbe viewed by George Armstrong, his son, who, within a few monthsafterwards, was united to Anne Bernard, with even the approbation ofher brother, considered the addition thereby made to his income as nodisagreeable circumstance. Mr. And Mrs. Pownal, the benefactors of hisyouth, were present, and the former had the satisfaction of dancingat the wedding. No marriage could be more fortunate. A similarity oftaste and feeling and the harmonies of virtue had originally attractedand attached each to the other. Anne had loved Armstrong because sherecognized in him her own truthfulness and nobility of spirit, andhe her, for her grace and beauty, and that inexpressible charm ofsweetness of temper and gaiety of spirit, that, like the sun, diffuseslight and animation around. Their career has been like a summer-day. Anumerous family of children has sprung from the union, who promise toperpetuate the virtues of their parents. And it is to be hoped, andwe believe it to be a fact which the passage of so many years may beconsidered to have tolerably settled, that the fatal blood-taintof insanity, which had seemed hereditary on the side of one of theparents, has disappeared. 

As for the Solitary, who survived his brother many years, he couldnever be weaned from the mode of life he had adopted. As long asJames Armstrong lived, they were frequently together, few days passingwithout one seeking the other, as if both were striving to make upfor their long separation, but yet George Armstrong preferred the rudesimplicity of his hut, and his hard couch, to the elegant chamber andyielding bed, nor could he be persuaded to stop more than a night ortwo at any one time, either at the house of his brother or of hisson. The efforts made to change this feeling were soon found to beunavailing, and his commanding temper, as usual, had its way. Afterthe death of his brother, his visits to the village became lessfrequent, and he was seldom to be met with, except at the house ofhis son. It was a strange sight to see him, with two or threegrand-children on his knees, and playing, perhaps, with one of thelittle ones, amusing itself with hiding behind the flowing majesty ofhis long beard. A great part of his time was passed among the Indiansliving on the banks of the Severn, to the amelioration of whosecondition and Christianization he devoted himself to the last. And some insist that he never quite gave up the expectation of theMillennium during his life, for early fishermen, passing his hutbefore sunrise, are said to have reported that they had seen theSolitary more than once, waiting for the rising sun, and heard hisbursts of passionate expectation. An occurrence, too, at his death, which happened at the house of his son, justifies this opinion--whensitting up suddenly in his bed, he stretched out his arms, andexclaiming with a wild energy, "Lord, Thou art faithful and true, forI behold Thy coming, " he fell back upon the pillow and expired. Fromrespect to the memory of his father, his son bought the island wherethe Solitary lived so many years, and having planted it with trees, declares it shall never pass out of the family during his own life, and so long as it can be protected by his will. 

Judge Bernard, his wife, the doctor, and the Pownals are gone, and thethree former repose with their friends in the romantic burial ground, to which we once before conducted our readers; the two latter in thecemetery of the thronged city, undisturbed by the sounding tread ofthe multitudes who daily pass their graves. 

William Bernard, about the time of the marriage of his sister, made aformal offer of his hand to Faith, but without success. He was refusedgently, but so decidedly, that no room was left for hope. But if theenamored young man lost his mistress, he was satisfied there was norival in the case, and moreover that probably there never would be. So selfish is the human heart, that this reflection mitigated thebitterness of his disappointment. Convinced that the prospect ofaltering her determination was hopeless, and unable to remain in herpresence, he made a voyage to Europe, where he remained five years, and on his return, entered into political life. He has since filledmany eminent stations with credit to himself and advantage to thecountry, and only delicacy restrains us from naming the high positionhe now occupies, of course under a different name from that we havechosen to give him. But he has never found another being to fill thevoid in his affections, and remains unmarried, the most graceful andattractive of old bachelors. 

And what shall we say of Faith, the pure, the high souled the devotedFaith? As long as her father lived, he continued to be the object ofher incessant solicitude. She watched him with a tenderness like thatof a mother hovering about her sick infant, devoting her whole lifeto his service, and when he died, the tears she shed were not those ofcomplaining grief, but of a sad thankfulness. Sad was she that no morein this world should she behold him whom she had ever treasured in herinner heart; thankful that with unclouded reason and resigned trust, he had returned to the Source whence he came. Soon after his death, she joined her uncle in his labors among the Indians, abandoning herhome and devoting the whole of her large income to the promotion oftheir interests. There was much in her character that resembled thatof George Armstrong, and notwithstanding the disparity of years, caused each to find an attractive counterpart in the other. There wasthe same enthusiasm, trespassing from constitutional tendencies, upon the very verge of reason; the same contempt of the world andits allurements; the same reaching forward toward the invisible. Hersurpassing beauty, her accomplishments and great wealth, brought manysuitors to her feet, but she had a heart for none. She turned a deafear to their pleadings, and "in maiden meditation fancy free, " pursuedher course like the pale moon through heaven. Perhaps the awful shockwhich she received on the terrible day when the appearance of heruncle saved her life, working on a temperament so exalted, mayhave contributed to confirm and strengthen what was at first only atendency, and so decided the character of her life. She died as suchgifted beings are wont to do, young, breathing out her delicate soulwith a smile, upon the bosom of her faithful friend, Anne Armstrong. A purer spirit, and one better fitted to join the bright array of theblessed, never left the earth, and to those who knew her, it lookeddark and desolate when she departed. 

We have thus disposed of the principal personages in our drama. Itremains to speak of some of those who have borne an inferior part inthe scenes. 

Esther left, with Quadaquina, for the Western tribes about thetime when the boy attained the age of sixteen years, and historicalaccuracy compels us to admit, that, since their departure, we havelost all traces of them. One would suppose she would have remainedwith her powerful protectors, but it may be she feared thedemoralization around her, to which, in spite of the efforts of thebenevolent to the contrary, so many of her fated race fell victims, and preferred to expose Quadaquina to the perils of savage life, rather than to the tender mercies of civilization. We stronglysuspect, that her wild creed was never fairly weeded out of her heart. 

Primus remained to the end the same cheery, roguish fellow we haveseen him, and when he died was buried, as became a revolutionarycelebrity, with military honors, which so affected Felix, that, whenhis turn came--knowing that he was entitled to no such distinction, and, yet loth to pass away unnoticed--he begged Doctor Elmer towrite him a "first-rate epithet. " The doctor redeemed his promise, byprefacing a panegyric, in English, with the following quotation fromVirgil--

 Hic jacet FELIX QUI Potuit Rerum cognoscere Causas QUI Que Metus omnes Et inexorabile Fatum Subjecit Pedibus Strepitumque Acherontis avari. 

The doctor, on being asked its meaning, one day, by an inquisitivenegro, who had, for some time, been rolling the whites of his eyes atthe inscription, in a vain attempt to understand it, replied, it meantthat Felix was an intelligent and brave fellow, who lived like awise man, and died like a hero, whereat, his auditor expressedgreat satisfaction, considering both the Latin and the sentiment acompliment to "colored pussons, " generally. 

Gladding emigrated to the West, where his stout arm and keen axe didhimself and the State good service. After making a fabulous number of"claims, " and as many "trades, " he found himself, at middle age, themaster of a thousand acres of cleared land, with a proper proportionof timber; his log-cabin converted into a brick house, and sons anddaughters around him. 

We had almost forgotten to speak of the fate of Constable Basset. Thegood people of Hillsdale soon found out that his talents did not liein the line he had adopted, and, at the next election, chose anotherin his place. Thereupon, not discouraged, he turned his hand, withnational facility, to something else--following, successively, thebusiness of a small grocer, of a tavern keeper, and of an auctioneer. Somehow or other, however, ill luck still followed him; and, finally, he took to distributing the village newspaper, and sticking uphandbills. This gave him a taste for politics, and having acquired, in his employment as auctioneer, a certain fluency of speech, hecultivated it to that degree--in town meetings and on other publicoccasions--that, in the end, there was not a man in the whole countywho could talk longer and say less. His fellow-citizens observing thiscongressional qualification, and not knowing what else he was fitfor, have just elected him to Congress, partly because of thisaccomplishment, and, partly, on account of his patriotic dislike of"furriners, " a sentiment which happens now to be popular. Both hisfriends and enemies agree that he is destined to make a figure there;and Mr. Thomas Armstrong--in compensation, perhaps, for a youthfultrick--has promised the Member of Congress a new hat and full suitof black broadcloth, to enable him to appear in proper style onPennsylvania Avenue. 

THE END