The Pioneers (22 page)

“Father, you are not yet past the summer of life; your limbs are young. Go to the highest hill, and look around you. All that you see from the rising to the setting sun, from the headwaters of the great spring to where the ‘crooked river'
¹³
is hid by the hills, is his. He has Delawareblood, and his right is strong. But the brother of Miquon is just: he will cut the country in two parts, as the river cuts the lowlands, and will say to the ‘Young Eagle,' Child of the Delawares! Take it—keep it—and be a chief in the land of your fathers.”

“Never!” exclaimed the young hunter, with a vehemence that destroyed the rapt attention with which the divine and his daughter were listening to the Indian. “The wolf of the forest is not more rapacious for his prey, than that man is greedy of gold; and yet his glidings into wealth are subtle as the movements of a serpent.”

“Forbear, forbear, my son, forbear,” interrupted Mr. Grant. “These angry passions must be subdued. The accidental injury you have received from Judge Temple has heightened the sense of your hereditary wrongs. But remember that the one was unintentional, and that the other is the effect of political changes, which have, in their course, greatly lowered the pride of kings, and swept mighty nations from the face of the earth. Where now are the Philistines, who so often held the children of Israel in bondage? or that city of Babylon, which rioted in luxury and vice, and who styled herself the Queen of Nations in the drunkenness of her pride? Remember the prayer of our holy litany, where we implore the Divine Power—‘that it may please thee to forgive our enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, and to turn their hearts.' The sin of the wrongs which have been done to the natives is shared by Judge Temple only in common with a whole people, and your arm will speedily be restored to its strength.”

“This arm!” repeated the youth, pacing the floor in violent agitation. “Think you, sir, that I believe the man a murderer? Oh, no! He is too wily, too cowardly for such a crime. But let him and his daughter riot in their wealth—a day of retribution will come. No, no, no,” he continued, as he trod the floor more calmly—“it is for Mohegan to suspect him of an intent to injure me, but the trifle is not worth a second thought.”

He seated himself and hid his face between his hands, as they rested on his knees.

“It is the hereditary violence of a native's passion, my child,” said Mr. Grant in a low tone, to his affrighted daughter, who was clinging in terror to his arm. “He is mixed with the blood of the Indians, you have heard; and neither the refinements of education, nor the advantages of our excellent liturgy, have been able entirely to eradicate the evil. But care and time will do much for him yet.”

Although the divine spoke in a low tone, yet what he uttered was heard by the youth, who raised his head, with a smile of indefinite expression, and spoke more calmly.

“Be not alarmed, Miss Grant, at either the wildness of my manner or that of my dress. I have been carried away by passions that I should struggle to repress. I must attribute it with your father, to the blood in my veins, although I would not impeach my lineage willingly; for it is all that is left me to boast of. Yes! I am proud of my descent from a Delaware chief, who was a warrior that ennobled human nature. Old Mohegan was his friend and will vouch for his virtues.”

Mr. Grant here took up the discourse, and, finding the young man more calm, and the aged chief attentive, he entered into a full and theological discussion of the duty of forgiveness. The conversation lasted for more than an hour, when the visitors arose, and, after exchanging good wishes with their entertainers, they departed. At the door they separated, Mohegan taking the direct route to the village, while the youth moved towards the lake. The divine stood at the entrance of his dwelling, regarding the figure of the aged chief as it glided, at an astonishing gait for his years, along the deep path; his black, straight hair just visible over the bundle formed by his blanket, which was sometimes blended with the snow, under the silvery light of the moon. From the rear of the house was a window that overlooked the lake; and here Louisa was found by her father, when he entered, gazing intently on some object in the direction of the eastern mountain. He approached the spot and saw the figure of the young hunter, at the distance of half a mile, walking with prodigious steps across the wide fields of frozen snow that covered the ice, towards the point where he knew the hut inhabited by the Leatherstocking was situated on the margin of the lake, under a rock that was crowned by pines and hemlocks. At the next instant, the wildly looking form entered the shadow cast from the overhanging trees and was lost to view.

“It is marvelous how long the propensities of the savage continue in that remarkable race,” said the good divine; “but if he persevere as he has commenced, his triumph shall yet be complete. Put me in mind, Louisa, to lend him the homily ‘against peril of idolatry,' at his next visit.”

“Surely, father, you do not think him in danger of relapsing into the worship of his ancestors!”

“No, my child,” returned the clergyman, laying his hand affectionately on her flaxen locks, and smiling; “his white blood would prevent it; but there is such a thing as the idolatry of our passions.”

DRINKING SONG

 

ON one of the corners, where the two principal streets of Templeton intersected each other, stood, as we have already mentioned, the inn called the “Bold Dragoon.” In the original plan, it was ordained that the village should stretch along the little stream that rushed down the valley; and the street which led from the lake to the academy was intended to be its western boundary. But convenience frequently frustrates the best regulated plans. The house of Mr., or as, in consequence of commanding the militia of that vicinity, he was called, Captain Hollister, had, at an early day, been erected directly facing the main street and ostensibly interposed a barrier to its further progress. Horsemen, and subsequently teamsters, however, availed themselves of an opening, at the end of the building, to shorten their passage westward, until, in time, the regular highway was laid out along this course, and houses were gradually built on either side, so as effectually to prevent any subsequent correction of the evil.

Two material consequences followed this change in the regular plans of Marmaduke. The main street, after running about half its length, was suddenly reduced to precisely that difference in its width; and the “Bold Dragoon” became, next to the mansion house, by far the most conspicuous edifice in the place.

This conspicuousness, aided by the characters of the host and hostess, gave the tavern an advantage over all its future competitors, that no circumstances could conquer. An effort was, however, made to do so; and at the corner diagonally opposite, stood a new building that was intended, by its occupants, to look down all opposition. It was a house of wood, ornamented in the prevailing style of architecture, and about the roof and balustrades was one of the three imitators of the mansion house. The upper windows were filled with rough boards secured by nails, to keep out the cold air—for the edifice was far from finished, although glass was to be seen in the lower apartments, and the light of the powerful fires within denoted that it was already inhabited. The exterior was painted white on the front, and on the end which was exposed to the street; but in the rear, and on the side which was intended to join the neighboring house, it was coarsely smeared with Spanish brown. Before the door stood two lofty posts, connected at the top by a beam, from which was suspended an enormous sign, ornamented around its edges with certain curious carvings in pine boards, and on its faces loaded with Masonic emblems. Over these mysterious figures was written, in large letters, “The Templeton Coffee-house, and Travelers' Hotel,” and beneath them, “by Habakkuk Foote and Joshua Knapp.” This was a fearful rival to the “Bold Dragoon,” as our readers will the more readily perceive, when we add that the same sonorous names were to be seen over the door of a newly erected store in the village, a hatter's shop, and the gates of a tanyard. But, either because too much was attempted to be executed well, or that the “Bold Dragoon” had established a reputation which could not be easily shaken, not only Judge Temple and his friends, but most of the villagers also, who were not in debt to the powerful firm we have named, frequented the inn of Captain Hollister on all occasions where such a house was necessary.

On the present evening the limping veteran and his consort were hardly housed after their return from the academy, when the sounds of stamping feet at their threshold announced the approach of visitors, who were probably assembling with a view to compare opinions on the subject of the ceremonies they had witnessed.

The public, or as it was called, the “barroom,” of the “Bold Dragoon” was a spacious apartment, lined on three sides with benches and on the fourth by fireplaces. Of the latter there were two of such size as to occupy, with their enormous jambs, the whole of that side of the apartment where they were placed, excepting room enough for a door or two, and a little apartment in one corner, which was protected by miniature palisadoes and profusely garnished with bottles and glasses. In the entrance to this sanctuary, Mrs. Hollister was seated, with great gravity in her air, while her husband occupied himself with stirring the fires, moving the logs with a large stake burnt to a point at one end.

“There, Sargeant, dear,” said the landlady, after she thought the veteran had got the logs arranged in the most judicious manner, “give over poking, for it's no good ye'll be doing, now that they burn so convaniently. There's the glasses on the table there, and the mug that the Doctor was taking his cider and ginger in, before the fire here—just put them in the bar, will ye? for we'll be having the Joodge, and the Major, and Mr. Jones down the night, without reckoning Benjamin Poomp, and the lawyers: so ye'll be fixing the room tidy; and put both flip irons in the coals; and tell Jude, the lazy black baste, that if she's no be claneing up the kitchen I'll turn her out of the house, and she may live wid the jontlemen that kape the ‘Coffeehouse,' good luck to 'em. Och! Sargeant, sure it's a great privilege to go to a mateing where a body can sit asy, widout joomping up and down so often, as this Mr. Grant is doing that same.”

“It's a privilege at all times, Mrs. Hollister, whether we stand or be seated; or, as good Mr. Whitefield used to do after he had made a wearisome day's march, get on our knees and pray, like Moses of old, with a flanker to the right and left, to lift his hands to heaven,” returned her husband, who composedly performed what she had directed to be done. “It was a very pretty fight, Betty, that the Israelites had on that day with the Amalekites. It seems that they fout on a plain, for Moses is mentioned as having gone on to the heights to overlook the battle, and wrestle in prayer; and if I should judge, with my little larning, the Israelites depended mainly on their horse, for it is written that Joshua cut up the enemy with the edge of the sword; from which I infer, not only that they were horse, but well-disciplyn'd troops. Indeed, it says as much as that they were chosen men; quite likely volunteers; for raw dragoons seldom strike with the
edge
of their swords, particularly if the weapon be any way crooked.”

“Pshaw! Why do ye bother yourself wid taxts, man, about so small a matter,” interrupted the landlady. “Sure, it was the Lord who was with 'em; for he always sided wid the Jews, before they fell away; and it's but little matter what kind of men Joshua commanded, so that he was doing the right bidding. Aven them cursed millaishy, the Lord forgive me for swearing, that was the death of him, wid their cowardice, would have carried the day in old times. There's no rason to be thinking that the soldiers were used to the drill.”

“I must say, Mrs. Hollister, that I have not often seen raw troops fight better than the left flank of the militia, at the time you mention. They rallied handsomely, and that without beat of drum, which is no easy thing to do under fire, and were very steady till he fell. But the Scriptures contain no unnecessary words; and I will maintain that horse, who know how to strike with the
edge
of the sword, must be well disciplyn'd. Many a good sarmon has been preached about smaller matters than that one word! If the text was not meant to be particular, why wasn't it written with the sword, and not with the edge? Now, a backhanded stroke, on the edge, takes long practice. Goodness! What an argument would Mr. Whitefield make of that word edge! As to the Captain, if he had only called up the guard of dragoons when he rallied the foot, they would have shown the inimy what the edge of a sword was; for, although there was no commissioned officer with them, yet I think I may say,” the veteran continued, stiffening his cravat about the throat, and raising himself up, with the air of a drill sergeant, “they were led by a man who know'd how to bring them on, in spite of the ravine.”

“Is it lade on ye would,” cried the landlady, “when ye know yourself, Mr. Hollister, that the baste he rode was but little able to joomp from one rock to another, and the animal was as spry as a squirrel? Och! But it's useless to talk, for he's gone this many a year. I would that he had lived to see the true light; but there's mercy for a brave sowl, that died in the saddle, fighting for the liberty. It is a poor tombstone they have given him, anyway, and many a good one that died like himself; but the sign is very like, and I will be kapeing it up, while the blacksmith can make a hook for it to swing on, for all the ‘coffeehouses' betwane this and Albany.”

There is no saying where this desultory conversation would have led the worthy couple had not the men who were stamping the snow off their feet on the little platform before the door suddenly ceased their occupation, and entered the barroom.