CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXII.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CHAPTER XXXV.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
CHAPTER XL.
CHAPTER XLI.
INTRODUCTION
As
this work professes, in its title-page, to be a descriptive tale,
they who will take the trouble to read it may be glad to know how
much of its contents is literal fact, and how much is intended to
represent a general picture. The author is very sensible that, had
he
confined himself to the latter, always the most effective, as it is
the most valuable, mode of conveying knowledge of this nature, he
would have made a far better book. But in commencing to describe
scenes, and perhaps he may add characters, that were so familiar to
his own youth, there was a constant temptation to delineate that
which he had known, rather than that which he might have imagined.
This rigid adhesion to truth, an indispensable requisite in history
and travels, destroys the charm of fiction; for all that is
necessary
to be conveyed to the mind by the latter had better be done by
delineations of principles, and of characters in their classes,
than
by a too fastidious attention to originals.New
York having but one county of Otsego, and the Susquehanna but one
proper source, there can be no mistake as to the site of the tale.
The history of this district of country, so far as it is connected
with civilized men, is soon told.Otsego,
in common with most of the interior of the province of New York,
was
included in the county of Albany previously to the war of the
separation. It then became, in a subsequent division of territory,
a
part of Montgomery; and finally, having obtained a sufficient
population of its own, it was set apart as a county by itself
shortly
after the peace of 1783. It lies among those low spurs of the
Alleghanies which cover the midland counties of New York, and it is
a
little east of a meridional line drawn through the centre of the
State. As the waters of New York flow either southerly into the
Atlantic or northerly into Ontario and its outlet, Otsego Lake,
being
the source of the Susquehanna, is of necessity among its highest
lands. The face of the country, the climate as it was found by the
whites, and the manners of the settlers, are described with a
minuteness for which the author has no other apology than the force
of his own recollections.Otsego
is said to be a word compounded of Ot, a place of meeting, and
Sego,
or Sago, the ordinary term of salutation used by the Indians of
this
region. There is a tradition which says that the neighboring tribes
were accustomed to meet on the banks of the lake to make their
treaties, and otherwise to strengthen their alliances, and which
refers the name to this practice. As the Indian agent of New York
had
a log dwelling at the foot of the lake, however, it is not
impossible
that the appellation grew out of the meetings that were held at his
council fires; the war drove off the agent, in common with the
other
officers of the crown; and his rude dwelling was soon abandoned.
The
author remembers it, a few years later, reduced to the humble
office
of a smoke-house.In
1779 an expedition was sent against the hostile Indians, who dwelt
about a hundred miles west of Otsego, on the banks of the Cayuga.
The
whole country was then a wilderness, and it was necessary to
transport the bag gage of the troops by means of the rivers—a
devious but practicable route. One brigade ascended the Mohawk
until
it reached the point nearest to the sources of the Susquehanna,
whence it cut a lane through the forest to the head of the Otsego.
The boats and baggage were carried over this “portage,” and the
troops proceeded to the other extremity of the lake, where they
disembarked and encamped. The Susquehanna, a narrow though rapid
stream at its source, was much filled with “flood wood,” or
fallen trees; and the troops adopted a novel expedient to
facilitate
their passage. The Otsego is about nine miles in length, varying in
breadth from half a mile to a mile and a half. The water is of
great
depth, limpid, and supplied from a thousand springs. At its foot
the
banks are rather less than thirty feet high the remainder of its
margin being in mountains, intervals, and points. The outlet, or
the
Susquehanna, flows through a gorge in the low banks just mentioned,
which may have a width of two hundred feet. This gorge was dammed
and
the waters of the lake collected: the Susquehanna was converted
into
a rill.When
all was ready the troops embarked, the damn was knocked away, the
Otsego poured out its torrent, and the boats went merrily down with
the current.General
James Clinton, the brother of George Clinton, then governor of New
York, and the father of De Witt Clinton, who died governor of the
same State in 1827, commanded the brigade employed on this duty.
During the stay of the troops at the foot of the Otsego a soldier
was
shot for desertion. The grave of this unfortunate man was the first
place of human interment that the author ever beheld, as the
smoke-house was the first ruin! The swivel alluded to in this work
was buried and abandoned by the troops on this occasion, and it was
subsequently found in digging the cellars of the authors paternal
residence.Soon
after the close of the war, Washington, accompanied by many
distinguished men, visited the scene of this tale, it is said with
a
view to examine the facilities for opening a communication by water
with other points of the country. He stayed but a few hours.In
1785 the author’s father, who had an interest in extensive tracts
of land in this wilderness, arrived with a party of surveyors. The
manner in which the scene met his eye is described by Judge Temple.
At the commencement of the following year the settlement began; and
from that time to this the country has continued to flourish. It is
a
singular feature in American life that at the beginning of this
century, when the proprietor of the estate had occasion for
settlers
on a new settlement and in a remote county, he was enabled to draw
them from among the increase of the former colony.Although
the settlement of this part of Otsego a little preceded the birth
of
the author, it was not sufficiently advanced to render it desirable
that an event so important to himself should take place in the
wilderness. Perhaps his mother had a reasonable distrust of the
practice of Dr Todd, who must then have been in the novitiate of
his
experimental acquirements. Be that as it may, the author was
brought
an infant into this valley, and all his first impressions were here
obtained. He has inhabited it ever since, at intervals; and he
thinks
he can answer for the faithfulness of the picture he has drawn.
Otsego has now become one of the most populous districts of New
York.
It sends forth its emigrants like any other old region, and it is
pregnant with industry and enterprise. Its manufacturers are
prosperous, and it is worthy of remark that one of the most
ingenious
machines known in European art is derived from the keen ingenuity
which is exercised in this remote region.In
order to prevent mistake, it may be well to say that the incidents
of
this tale are purely a fiction. The literal facts are chiefly
connected with the natural and artificial objects and the customs
of
the inhabitants. Thus the academy, and court-house, and jail, and
inn, and most similar things, are tolerably exact. They have all,
long since, given place to other buildings of a more pretending
character. There is also some liberty taken with the truth in the
description of the principal dwelling; the real building had no
“firstly” and “lastly.” It was of bricks, and not of stone;
and its roof exhibited none of the peculiar beauties of the
“composite order.” It was erected in an age too primitive for
that ambitious school of architecture. But the author indulged his
recollections freely when he had fairly entered the door. Here all
is
literal, even to the severed arm of Wolfe, and the urn which held
the
ashes of Queen Dido.**
Though forests still crown the mountains of Otsego, the bear,
the
wolf, and the panther are nearly strangers to them. Even the
innocent
deer is rarely seen bounding beneath their arches; for the rifle
and
the activity of the settlers hare driven them to other haunts.
To
this change (which in some particulars is melancholy to one who
knew
the country in its infancy), it may be added that the Otsego
is
beginning to be a niggard of its treasures.The
author has elsewhere said that the character of Leather-Stocking is
a
creation, rendered probable by such auxiliaries as were necessary
to
produce that effect. Had he drawn still more upon fancy, the lovers
of fiction would not have so much cause for their objections to his
work. Still, the picture would not have been in the least true
without some substitutes for most of the other personages. The
great
proprietor resident on his lands, and giving his name to instead of
receiving it from his estates as in Europe, is common over the
whole
of New York. The physician with his theory, rather obtained from
than
corrected by experiments on the human constitution; the pious,
self-denying, laborious, and ill-paid missionary; the
half-educated,
litigious, envious, and disreputable lawyer, with his counterpoise,
a
brother of the profession, of better origin and of better
character;
the shiftless, bargaining, discontented seller of his
“betterments;”
the plausible carpenter, and most of the others, are more familiar
to
all who have ever dwelt in a new country.It
may be well to say here, a little more explicitly, that there was
no
real intention to describe with particular accuracy any real
characters in this book. It has been often said, and in published
statements, that the heroine of this book was drawn after the
sister
of the writer, who was killed by a fall from a horse now near half
a
century since. So ingenious is conjecture that a personal
resemblance
has been discovered between the fictitious character and the
deceased
relative! It is scarcely possible to describe two females of the
same
class in life who would be less alike, personally, than Elizabeth
Temple and the sister of the author who met with the deplorable
fate
mentioned. In a word, they were as unlike in this respect as in
history, character, and fortunes.Circumstances
rendered this sister singularly dear to the author. After a lapse
of
half a century, he is writing this paragraph with a pain that would
induce him to cancel it, were it not still more painful to have it
believed that one whom he regarded with a reverence that surpassed
the love of a brother was converted by him into the heroine of a
work
of fiction.From
circumstances which, after this Introduction, will be obvious to
all,
the author has had more pleasure in writing “The Pioneers” than
the book will probably ever give any of its readers. He is quite
aware of its numerous faults, some of which he has endeavored to
repair in this edition; but as he has—in intention, at least—done
his full share in amusing the world, he trusts to its good-nature
for
overlooking this attempt to please himself.
CHAPTER I.
“
See,
Winter comes, to rule the varied years,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapors, and clouds, and storms.”—Thomson.Near
the centre of the State of New York lies an extensive district of
country whose surface is a succession of hills and dales, or, to
speak with greater deference to geographical definitions, of
mountains and valleys. It is among these hills that the Delaware
takes its rise; and flowing from the limpid lakes and thousand
springs of this region the numerous sources of the Susquehanna
meander through the valleys until, uniting their streams, they form
one of the proudest rivers of the United States. The mountains are
generally arable to the tops, although instances are not wanting
where the sides are jutted with rocks that aid greatly in giving to
the country that romantic and picturesque character which it so
eminently possesses. The vales are narrow, rich, and cultivated,
with
a stream uniformly winding through each. Beautiful and thriving
villages are found interspersed along the margins of the small
lakes,
or situated at those points of the streams which are favorable for
manufacturing; and neat and comfortable farms, with every
indication
of wealth about them, are scattered profusely through the vales,
and
even to the mountain tops. Roads diverge in every direction from
the
even and graceful bottoms of the valleys to the most rugged and
intricate passes of the hills. Academies and minor edifices of
learning meet the eye of the stranger at every few miles as be
winds
his way through this uneven territory, and places for the worship
of
God abound with that frequency which characterize a moral and
reflecting people, and with that variety of exterior and canonical
government which flows from unfettered liberty of conscience. In
short, the whole district is hourly exhibiting how much can be
done,
in even a rugged country and with a severe climate, under the
dominion of mild laws, and where every man feels a direct interest
in
the prosperity of a commonwealth of which he knows himself to form
a
part. The expedients of the pioneers who first broke ground in the
settlement of this country are succeeded by the permanent
improvements of the yeoman who intends to leave his remains to
moulder under the sod which he tills, or perhaps of the son, who,
born in the land, piously wishes to linger around the grave of his
father. Only forty years * have passed since this territory was a
wilderness.*
Our tale begins in 1793, about seven years after the commencement
of
one of the earliest of those settlements which have conduced to
effect
that magical change in the power and condition of the State to
which
we have alluded.Very
soon after the establishment of the independence of the States by
the
peace of 1783, the enterprise of their citizens was directed to a
development of the natural ad vantages of their widely extended
dominions. Before the war of the Revolution, the inhabited parts of
the colony of New York were limited to less than a tenth of its
possessions, A narrow belt of country, extending for a short
distance
on either side of the Hudson, with a similar occupation of fifty
miles on the banks of the Mohawk, together with the islands of
Nassau
and Staten, and a few insulated settlements on chosen land along
the
margins of streams, composed the country, which was then inhabited
by
less than two hundred thousand souls. Within the short period we
have
mentioned, the population has spread itself over five degrees of
latitude and seven of longitude, and has swelled to a million and a
half of inhabitants, who are maintained in abundance, and can look
forward to ages before the evil day must arrive when their
possessions shall become unequal to their wants.It
was near the setting of the sun, on a clear, cold day in December,
when a sleigh was moving slowly up one of the mountains in the
district we have described. The day had been fine for the season,
and
but two or three large clouds, whose color seemed brightened by the
light reflected from the mass of snow that covered the earth,
floated
in a sky of the purest blue. The road wound along the brow of a
precipice, and on one side was upheld by a foundation of logs piled
one upon the other, while a narrow excavation in the mountain in
the
opposite direction had made a passage of sufficient width for the
ordinary travelling of that day. But logs, excavation, and every
thing that did not reach several feet above the earth lay alike
buried beneath the snow. A single track, barely wide enough to
receive the sleigh, * denoted the route of the highway, and this
was
sunk nearly two feet below the surrounding surface.*
Sleigh is the word used in every part of the United States to
denote
a traineau. It is of local use in the west of England, whence
it is
most probably derived by the Americans. The latter draw a
distinction
between a sled, or sledge, and a sleigh, the sleigh being shod
with
metal. Sleighs are also subdivided into two-horse and
one-horse
sleighs. Of the latter, there are the cutter, with thills so
arranged
as to permit the horse to travel in the side track; the “pung,”
or
“tow-pung” which is driven with a pole; and the “gumper,” a
rude
construction used for temporary purposes in the new countries.
Many
of the American sleighs are elegant though the use of this mode
of
conveyance is much lessened with the melioration of the
climate
consequent to the clearing of the forests.In
the vale, which lay at a distance of several hundred feet lower,
there was what, in the language of the country, was called a
clearing, and all the usual improvements of a new settlement; these
even extended up the hill to the point where the road turned short
and ran across the level land, which lay on the summit of the
mountain; but the summit itself remained in the forest. There was
glittering in the atmosphere, as if it was filled with innumerable
shining particles; and the noble bay horses that drew the sleigh
were
covered, in many parts with a coat of hoar-frost. The vapor from
their nostrils was seen to issue like smoke; and every object in
the
view, as well as every arrangement of the travellers, denoted the
depth of a winter in the mountains. The harness, which was of a
deep,
dull black, differing from the glossy varnishing of the present
day,
was ornamented with enormous plates and buckles of brass, that
shone
like gold in those transient beams of the sun which found their way
obliquely through the tops of the trees. Huge saddles, studded with
nails and fitted with cloth that served as blankets to the
shoulders
of the cattle, supported four high, square-topped turrets, through
which the stout reins led from the mouths of the horses to the
hands
of the driver, who was a negro, of apparently twenty years of age.
His face, which nature had colored with a glistening black, was now
mottled with the cold, and his large shining eyes filled with
tears;
a tribute to its power that the keen frosts of those regions always
extracted from one of his African origin. Still, there was a
smiling
expression of good-humor in his happy countenance, that was created
by the thoughts of home and a Christmas fireside, with its
Christmas
frolics. The sleigh was one of those large, comfortable,
old-fashioned conveyances, which would admit a whole family within
its bosom, but which now contained only two passengers besides the
driver. The color of its outside was a modest green, and that of
its
inside a fiery red, The latter was intended to convey the idea of
heat in that cold climate. Large buffalo-skins trimmed around the
edges with red cloth cut into festoons, covered the back of the
sleigh, and were spread over its bottom and drawn up around the
feet
of the travellers—one of whom was a man of middle age and the other
a female just entering upon womanhood. The former was of a large
stature; but the precautions he had taken to guard against the cold
left but little of his person exposed to view. A great-coat, that
was
abundantly ornamented by a profusion of furs, enveloped the whole
of
his figure excepting the head, which was covered with a cap of mar
ten-skins lined with morocco, the sides of which were made to fall,
if necessary, and were now drawn close over the ears and fastened
beneath his chin with a black rib bon. The top of the cap was
surmounted with the tail of the animal whose skin had furnished the
rest of the materials, which fell back, not ungracefully, a few
inches be hind the head. From beneath this mask were to be seen
part
of a fine, manly face, and particularly a pair of expressive large
blue eyes, that promised extraordinary intellect, covert humor, and
great benevolence. The form of his companion was literally hid
beneath the garments she wore. There were furs and silks peeping
from
under a large camlet cloak with a thick flannel lining, that by its
cut and size was evidently intended for a masculine wearer. A huge
hood of black silk, that was quilted with down, concealed the whole
of her head, except at a small opening in front for breath, through
which occasionally sparkled a pair of animated jet-black
eyes.Both
the father and daughter (for such was the connection between the
two
travellers) were too much occupied with their reflections to break
a
stillness that derived little or no interruption from the easy
gliding of the sleigh by the sound of their voices. The former was
thinking of the wife that had held this their only child to her
bosom, when, four years before, she had reluctantly consented to
relinquish the society of her daughter in order that the latter
might
enjoy the advantages of an education which the city of New York
could
only offer at that period. A few months afterward death had
deprived
him of the remaining companion of his solitude; but still he had
enough real regard for his child not to bring her into the
comparative wilderness in which he dwelt, until the full period had
expired to which he had limited her juvenile labors. The
reflections
of the daughter were less melancholy, and mingled with a pleased
astonishment at the novel scenery she met at every turn in the
road.The
mountain on which they were journeying was covered with pines that
rose without a branch some seventy or eighty feet, and which
frequently doubled that height by the addition of the tops. Through
the innumerable vistas that opened beneath the lofty trees, the eye
could penetrate until it was met by a distant inequality in the
ground, or was stopped by a view of the summit of the mountain
which
lay on the opposite side of the valley to which they were
hastening.
The dark trunks of the trees rose from the pure white of the snow
in
regularly formed shafts, until, at a great height, their branches
shot forth horizontal limbs, that were covered with the meagre
foliage of an evergreen, affording a melancholy contrast to the
torpor of nature below. To the travellers there seemed to be no
wind;
but these pines waved majestically at their topmost boughs, sending
forth a dull, plaintive sound that was quite in consonance with the
rest of the melancholy scene.The
sleigh had glided for some distance along the even surface, and the
gaze of the female was bent in inquisitive and, perhaps, timid
glances into the recesses of the forest, when a loud and continued
howling was heard, pealing under the long arches of the woods like
the cry of a numerous pack of hounds. The instant the sounds
reached
the ear of the gentleman he cried aloud to the black:
“
Hol
up, Aggy; there is old Hector; I should know his bay among ten
thousand! The Leather-Stocking has put his hounds into the hills
this
clear day, and they have started their game. There is a deer-track
a
few rods ahead; and now, Bess, if thou canst muster courage enough
to
stand fire, I will give thee a saddle for thy Christmas
dinner.”The
black drew up, with a cheerful grin upon his chilled features, and
began thrashing his arms together in order to restore the
circulation
of his fingers, while the speaker stood erect and, throwing aside
his
outer covering, stepped from the sleigh upon a bank of snow which
sustained his weight without yielding.In
a few moments the speaker succeeded in extricating a
double-barrelled
fowling-piece from among a multitude of trunks and bandboxes. After
throwing aside the thick mittens which had encased his hands, there
now appeared a pair of leather gloves tipped with fur; he examined
his priming, and was about to move forward, when the light bounding
noise of an animal plunging through the woods was heard, and a fine
buck darted into the path a short distance ahead of him. The
appearance of the animal was sudden, and his flight inconceivably
rapid; but the traveller appeared to be too keen a sportsman to be
disconcerted by either. As it came first into view he raised the
fowling-piece to his shoulder and, with a practised eye and steady
hand, drew a trigger. The deer dashed forward undaunted, and
apparently unhurt. Without lowering his piece, the traveller turned
its muzzle toward his victim, and fired again. Neither discharge,
however, seemed to have taken effect,The
whole scene had passed with a rapidity that confused the female,
who
was unconsciously rejoicing in the escape of the buck, as he rather
darted like a meteor than ran across the road, when a sharp, quick
sound struck her ear, quite different from the full, round reports
of
her father’s gun, but still sufficiently distinct to be known as
the concussion produced by firearms. At the same instant that she
heard this unexpected report, the buck sprang from the snow to a
great height in the air, and directly a second discharge, similar
in
sound to the first, followed, when the animal came to the earth,
failing head long and rolling over on the crust with its own
velocity. A loud shout was given by the unseen marksman, and a
couple
of men instantly appeared from behind the trunks of two of the
pines,
where they had evidently placed them selves in expectation of the
passage of the deer.
“
Ha!
Natty, had I known you were in ambush, I should not have fired,”
cried the traveller, moving toward the spot where the deer lay—near
to which he was followed by the delighted black, with his sleigh;
“but the sound of old Hector was too exhilarating to be quiet;
though I hardly think I struck him, either.”
“
No—no——Judge,”
returned the hunter, with an inward chuckle, and with that look of
exultation that indicates a consciousness of superior skill, “you
burnt your powder only to warm your nose this cold evening. Did ye
think to stop a full-grown buck, with Hector and the slut open upon
him within sound, with that pop-gun in your hand! There’s plenty of
pheasants among the swamps; and the snow-birds are flying round
your
own door, where you may feed them with crumbs, and shoot them at
pleasure, any day; but if you’re for a buck, or a little bear’s
meat, Judge, you’ll have to take the long rifle, with a greased
wadding, or you’ll waste more powder than you’ll fill stomachs,
I’m thinking.”As
the speaker concluded he drew his bare hand across the bottom of
his
nose, and again opened his enormous mouth with a kind of inward
laugh.
“
The
gun scatters well, Natty, And it has killed a deer before now,”
said the traveller, smiling good-humoredly. “One barrel was charged
with buckshot, but the other was loaded for birds only. Here are
two
hurts; one through the neck, and the other directly through the
heart. It is by no means certain, Natty, but I gave him one of the
two.
“
Let
who will kill him.” said the hunter, rather surily.
“
I
suppose the creature is to be eaten.” So saying, he drew a large
knife from a leathern sheath, which was stuck through his girdle,
or
sash, and cut the throat of the animal, “If there are two balls
through the deer, I would ask if there weren’t two rifles
fired—besides, who ever saw such a ragged hole from a smooth-bore
as this through the neck? And you will own yourself, Judge, that
the
buck fell at the last shot, which was sent from a truer and a
younger
hand than your’n or mine either; but, for my part, although I am a
poor man I can live without the venison, but I don’t love to give
up my lawful dues in a free country. Though, for the matter of
that,
might often makes right here, as well as in the old country, for
what
I can see.”An
air of sullen dissatisfaction pervaded the manner of the hunter
during the whole of his speech; yet he thought it prudent to utter
the close of the sentence in such an undertone as to leave nothing
audible but the grumbling sounds of his voice.
“
Nay,
Natty,” rejoined the traveller, with undisturbed good-humor, “it
is for the honor that I contend. A few dollars will pay for the
venison; but what will requite me for the lost honor of a buck’s
tail in my cap? Think, Natty, how I should triumph over that
quizzing
dog, Dick Jones, who has failed seven times already this season,
and
has only brought in one woodchuck and a few gray
squirrels.”
“
Ah!
The game is becoming hard to find, indeed, Judge, with your
clearings
and betterments,” said the old hunter, with a kind of compelled
resignation. “The time has been when I have shot thirteen deer
without counting the fa’ns standing in the door of my own hut; and
for bear’s meat, if one wanted a ham or so, he had only to watch
a-nights, and he could shoot one by moonlight, through the cracks
of
the logs, no fear of his oversleeping himself neither, for the
howling of the wolves was sartin to keep his eyes open. There’s old
Hector”—patting with affection a tall hound of black and yellow
spots, with white belly and legs, that just then came in on the
scent, accompanied by the slut he had mentioned; “see where the
wolves bit his throat, the night I druv them from the venison that
was smoking on the chimney top—that dog is more to be trusted than
many a Christian man; for he never forgets a friend, and loves the
hand that gives him bread.”There
was a peculiarity in the manner of the hunter that attracted the
notice of the young female, who had been a close and interested
observer of his appearance and equipments, from the moment he came
into view. He was tall, and so meagre as to make him seem above
even
the six feet that he actually stood in his stockings. On his head,
which was thinly covered with lank, sandy hair, he wore a cap made
of
fox-skin, resembling in shape the one we have already described,
although much inferior in finish and ornaments. His face was skinny
and thin al most to emaciation; but yet it bore no signs of
disease—on the contrary, it had every indication of the most robust
and enduring health. The cold and exposure had, together, given it
a
color of uniform red. His gray eyes were glancing under a pair of
shaggy brows, that over hung them in long hairs of gray mingled
with
their natural hue; his scraggy neck was bare, and burnt to the same
tint with his face; though a small part of a shirt-collar, made of
the country check, was to be seen above the overdress he wore. A
kind
of coat, made of dressed deer-skin, with the hair on, was belted
close to his lank body by a girdle of colored worsted. On his feet
were deer-skin moccasins, ornamented with porcupines’ quills, after
the manner of the Indians, and his limbs were guarded with long
leggings of the same material as the moccasins, which, gartering
over
the knees of his tarnished buckskin breeches, had obtained for him
among the settlers the nickname of Leather-Stocking. Over his left
shoulder was slung a belt of deer-skin, from which depended an
enormous ox-horn, so thinly scraped as to discover the powder it
contained. The larger end was fitted ingeniously and securely with
a
wooden bottom, and the other was stopped tight by a little plug. A
leathern pouch hung before him, from which, as he concluded his
last
speech, he took a small measure, and, filling it accurately with
powder, he commenced reloading the rifle, which as its butt rested
on
the snow before him reached nearly to the top of his fox-skin
cap.The
traveller had been closely examining the wounds during these
movements, and now, without heeding the ill-humor of the hunter’s
manner, he exclaimed:
“
I
would fain establish a right, Natty, to the honor of this death;
and
surely if the hit in the neck be mine it is enough; for the shot in
the heart was unnecessary—what we call an act of supererogation,
Leather-Stocking.”
“
You
may call it by what larned name you please, Judge,” said the
hunter, throwing his rifle across his left arm, and knocking up a
brass lid in the breech, from which he took a small piece of
greased
leather and, wrapping a bail in it, forced them down by main
strength
on the powder, where he continued to pound them while speaking.
“It’s
far easier to call names than to shoot a buck on the spring; but
the
creatur came by his end from a younger hand than either your’n or
mine, as I said before.”
“
What
say you, my friend,” cried the traveller, turning pleasantly to
Natty’s companion; “shall we toss up this dollar for the honor,
and you keep the silver if you lose; what say you,
friend?”
“
That
I killed the deer,” answered the young man, with a little
haughtiness, as he leaned on another long rifle similar to that of
Natty.
“
Here
are two to one, indeed,” replied the Judge with a smile; “I am
outvoted—overruled, as we say on the bench. There is Aggy, he can’t
vote, being a slave; and Bess is a minor—so I must even make the
best of it. But you’ll send me the venison; and the deuce is in it,
but I make a good story about its death.”
“
The
meat is none of mine to sell,” said Leather-Stocking, adopting a
little of his companion’s hauteur; “for my part, I have known
animals travel days with shots in the neck, and I’m none of them
who’ll rob a man of his rightful dues.”
“
You
are tenacious of your rights, this cold evening, Natty,” returned
the Judge with unconquerable good-nature; “but what say you, young
man; will three dollars pay you for the buck?”
“
First
let us determine the question of right to the satisfaction of us
both,” said the youth firmly but respect fully, and with a
pronunciation and language vastly superior to his appearance: “with
how many shot did you load your gun?”
“
With
five, sir,” said the Judge, a little struck with the other’s
manner; “are they not enough to slay a buck like this?”
“
One
would do it; but,” moving to the tree from be hind which he had
appeared, “you know, sir, you fired in this direction—here are
four of the bullets in the tree.”The
Judge examined the fresh marks in the bark of the pine, and,
shaking
his head, said with a laugh:
“
You
are making out the case against yourself, my young advocate; where
is
the fifth?”
“
Here,”
said the youth, throwing aside the rough over coat that he wore,
and
exhibiting a hole in his under-garment, through which large drops
of
blood were oozing.
“
Good
God!” exclaimed the Judge, with horror; “have I been trifling
here about an empty distinction, and a fellow-creature suffering
from
my hands without a murmur? But hasten—quick—get into my sleigh—it
is but a mile to the village, where surgical aid can be
obtained—all
shall be done at my expense, and thou shalt live with me until thy
wound is healed, ay, and forever afterward.”
“
I
thank you for your good intention, but I must decline your offer. I
have a friend who would be uneasy were he to hear that I am hurt
and
away from him. The injury is but slight, and the bullet has missed
the bones; but I believe, sir, you will now admit me title to the
venison.”
“
Admit
it!” repeated the agitated Judge; “I here give thee a right to
shoot deer, or bears, or anything thou pleasest in my woods,
forever.
Leather-Stocking is the only other man that I have granted the same
privilege to; and the time is coming when it will be of value. But
I
buy your deer—here, this bill will pay thee, both for thy shot and
my own.”The
old hunter gathered his tall person up into an air of pride during
this dialogue, but he waited until the other had done
speaking.
“
There’s
them living who say that Nathaniel Bumppo’s right to shoot on these
hills is of older date than Marmaduke Temple’s right to forbid
him,” he said. “But if there’s a law about it at all, though
who ever heard of a law that a man shouldn’t kill deer where he
pleased!—but if there is a law at all, it should be to keep people
from the use of smooth-bores. A body never knows where his lead
will
fly, when he pulls the trigger of one of them uncertain
firearms.”Without
attending to the soliloquy of Natty, the youth bowed his head
silently to the offer of the bank-note, and replied:
“
Excuse
me: I have need of the venison.”
“
But
this will buy you many deer,” said the Judge; “take it, I entreat
you;” and, lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “It is for
a hundred dollars.”For
an instant only the youth seemed to hesitate, and then, blushing
even
through the high color that the cold had given to his cheeks, as if
with inward shame at his own weakness, he again declined the
offer.During
this scene the female arose, and regardless of the cold air, she
threw back the hood which concealed her features, and now spoke,
with
great earnestness.
“
Surely,
surely—young man—sir—you would not pain my father so much as to
have him think that he leaves a fellow-creature in this wilderness
whom his own hand has injured. I entreat you will go with us, and
receive medical aid.”Whether
his wound became more painful, or there was something irresistible
in
the voice and manner of the fair pleader for her father’s feelings,
we know not; but the distance of the young mans manner was sensibly
softened by this appeal, and he stood in apparent doubt, as if
reluctant to comply with and yet unwilling to refuse her request.
The
Judge, for such being his office must in future be his title,
watched
with no little interest the display of this singular contention in
the feelings of the youth; and, advancing, kindly took his hand,
and,
as he pulled him gently toward the sleigh, urged him to enter
it.
“
There
is no human aid nearer than Templeton,” he said, “and the hut of
Natty is full three miles from this—come, come, my young friend, go
with us, and let the new doctor look to this shoulder of thine.
Here
is Natty will take the tidings of thy welfare to thy friend; and
shouldst thou require it, thou shalt return home in the morning.”
The young man succeeded in extricating his hand from the warm grasp
of the Judge, but he continued to gaze on the face of the female,
who, regardless of the cold, was still standing with her fine
features exposed, which expressed feeling that eloquently seconded
the request of her father. Leather-Stocking stood, in the mean
time,
leaning upon his long rifle, with his head turned a little to one
side, as if engaged in sagacious musing; when, having apparently
satisfied his doubts, by revolving the subject in his mind, he
broke
silence. “It may be best to go, lad, after all; for, if the shot
hangs under the skin, my hand is getting too old to be cutting into
human flesh, as I once used to, Though some thirty years agone, in
the old war, when I was out under Sir William, I travelled seventy
miles alone in the howling wilderness, with a rifle bullet in my
thigh, and then cut it out with my own jack-knife. Old Indian John
knows the time well. I met him with a party of the Delawares, on
the
trail of the Iroquois, who had been down and taken five scalps on
the
Schoharie. But I made a mark on the red-skin that I’ll warrant
he’ll carry to his grave! I took him on the posteerum, saving the
lady’s presence, as he got up from the ambushment, and rattled
three buckshot into his naked hide, so close that you might have
laid
a broad joe upon them all”—here Natty stretched out his long
neck, and straightened his body, as he opened his mouth, which
exposed a single tusk of yellow bone, while his eyes, his face,
even
his whole frame seemed to laugh, although no sound was emitted
except
a kind of thick hissing, as he inhaled his breath in quavers. “I
had lost my bullet-mould in crossing the Oneida outlet, and had to
make shift with the buckshot; but the rifle was true, and didn’t
scatter like your two-legged thing there, Judge, which don’t do, I
find, to hunt in company with.”Natty’s
apology to the delicacy of the young lady was unnecessary, for,
while
he was speaking, she was too much employed in helping her father to
remove certain articles of baggage to hear him. Unable to resist
the
kind urgency of the travellers any longer, the youth, though still
with an unaccountable reluctance, suffered himself to be persuaded
to
enter the sleigh. The black, with the aid of his master, threw the
buck across the baggage and entering the vehicle themselves, the
Judge invited the hunter to do so likewise.
“
No,
no,” said the old roan, shaking his head; “I have work to do at
home this Christmas eve—drive on with the boy, and let your doctor
look to the shoulder; though if he will only cut out the shot, I
have
yarbs that will heal the wound quicker than all his foreign
‘intments.” He turned, and was about to move off, when, suddenly
recollecting himself, he again faced the party, and added: “If you
see anything of Indian John, about the foot of the lake, you had
better take him with you, and let him lend the doctor a hand; for,
old as he is, he is curious at cuts and bruises, and it’s likelier
than not he’ll be in with brooms to sweep your Christmas
ha’arths.”
“
Stop,
stop,” cried the youth, catching the arm of the black as he
prepared to urge his horses forward; “Natty—you need say nothing
of the shot, nor of where I am going—remember, Natty, as you love
me.”
“
Trust
old Leather-Stocking,” returned the hunter significantly; “he
hasn’t lived fifty years in the wilderness, and not larnt from the
savages how to hold his tongue—trust to me, lad; and remember old
Indian John.”
“
And,
Natty,” said the youth eagerly, still holding the black by the arm.
“I will just get the shot extracted, and bring you up to-night a
quarter of the buck for the Christmas dinner.”He
was interrupted by the hunter, who held up his finger with an
expressive gesture for silence. He then moved softly along the
margin
of the road, keeping his eyes steadfastly fixed on the branches of
a
pine. When he had obtained such a position as he wished, he
stopped,
and, cocking his rifle, threw one leg far behind him, and
stretching
his left arm to its utmost extent along the barrel of his piece, he
began slowly to raise its muzzle in a line with the straight trunk
of
the tree. The eyes of the group in the sleigh naturally preceded
the
movement of the rifle, and they soon discovered the object of
Natty’s
aim. On a small dead branch of the pine, which, at the distance of
seventy feet from the ground, shot out horizontally, immediately
beneath the living members of the tree, sat a bird, that in the
vulgar language of the country was indiscriminately called a
pheasant
or a partridge. In size, it was but little smaller than a common
barn-yard fowl. The baying of the dogs, and the conversation that
had
passed near the root of the tree on which it was perched, had
alarmed
the bird, which was now drawn up near the body of the pine, with a
head and neck so erect as to form nearly a straight line with its
legs. As soon as the rifle bore on the victim, Natty drew his
trigger, and the partridge fell from its height with a force that
buried it in the snow.
“
Lie
down, you old villain,” exclaimed Leather-Stocking, shaking his
ramrod at Hector as he bounded toward the foot of the tree, “lie
down, I say.” The dog obeyed, and Natty proceeded with great
rapidity, though with the nicest accuracy, to reload his piece.
When
this was ended, he took up his game, and, showing it to the party
without a head, he cried: “Here is a tidbit for an old man’s
Christmas—never mind the venison, boy, and remember Indian John;
his yarbs are better than all the foreign ‘intments. Here, Judge,”
holding up the bird again, “do you think a smooth-bore would pick
game off their roost, and not ruffle a feather?” The old man gave
another of his remarkable laughs, which partook so largely of
exultation, mirth, and irony, and, shaking his head, he turned,
with
his rifle at a trail, and moved into the forest with steps that
were
between a walk and a trot. At each movement he made his body
lowered
several inches, his knees yielding with an inclination inward; but,
as the sleigh turned at a bend in the road, the youth cast his eyes
in quest of his old companion, and he saw that he was already
nearly
concealed by the trunks of the tree; while his dogs were following
quietly in his footsteps, occasionally scenting the deer track,
that
they seemed to know instinctively was now of no further use to
them.
Another jerk was given to the sleigh, and Leather-Stocking was hid
from view.
CHAPTER II
All
places that the eye of heaven visits
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens:
Think not the king did banish thee:
But thou the king.—Richard II
An
ancestor of Marmaduke Temple had, about one hundred and twenty
years
before the commencement of our tale, come to the colony of
Pennsylvania, a friend and co-religionist of its great patron. Old
Marmaduke, for this formidable prenomen was a kind of appellative
to
the race, brought with him, to that asylum of the persecuted an
abundance of the good things of this life. He became the master of
many thousands of acres of uninhabited territory, and the supporter
of many a score of dependents. He lived greatly respected for his
piety, and not a little distinguished as a sectary; was intrusted
by
his associates with many important political stations; and died
just
in time to escape the knowledge of his own poverty. It was his lot
to
share the fortune of most of those who brought wealth with them
into
the new settlements of the middle colonies.
The
consequence of an emigrant into these provinces was generally to be
ascertained by the number of his white servants or dependents, and
the nature of the public situations that he held. Taking this rule
as
a guide, the ancestor of our Judge must have been a man of no
little
note.
It
is, however, a subject of curious inquiry at the present day, to
look
into the brief records of that early period, and observe how
regular,
and with few exceptions how inevitable, were the gradations, on the
one hand, of the masters to poverty, and on the other, of their
servants to wealth. Accustomed to ease, and unequal to the
struggles
incident to an infant society, the affluent emigrant was barely
enabled to maintain his own rank by the weight of his personal
superiority and acquirements; but, the moment that his head was
laid
in the grave, his indolent and comparatively uneducated offspring
were compelled to yield precedency to the more active energies of a
class whose exertions had been stimulated by necessity. This is a
very common course of things, even in the present state of the
Union;
but it was peculiarly the fortunes of the two extremes of society,
in
the peaceful and unenterprising colonies of Pennsylvania and New
Jersey,
The
posterity of Marmaduke did not escape the common lot of those who
depend rather on their hereditary possessions than on their own
powers; and in the third generation they had descended to a point
below which, in this happy country, it is barely possible for
honesty, intellect and sobriety to fall. The same pride of family
that had, by its self-satisfied indolence, conduced to aid their
fail, now became a principle to stimulate them to endeavor to rise
again. The feeling, from being morbid, was changed to a healthful
and
active desire to emulate the character, the condition, and,
peradventure, the wealth of their ancestors also. It was the father
of our new acquaintance, the Judge, who first began to reascend in
the scale of society; and in this undertaking he was not a little
assisted by a marriage, which aided in furnishing the means of
educating his only son in a rather better manner than the low state
of the common schools of Pennsylvania could promise; or than had
been
the practice in the family for the two or three preceding
generations.
At
the school where the reviving prosperity of his father was enabled
to
maintain him, young Marmaduke formed an intimacy with a youth whose
years were about equal to his own. This was a fortunate connection
for our Judge, and paved the way to most of his future elevation in
life.
There
was not only great wealth but high court interest among the
connections of Edward Effingham. They were one of the few families
then resident in the colonies who thought it a degradation to its
members to descend to the pursuits of commerce; and who never
emerged
from the privacy of domestic life unless to preside in the councils
of the colony or to bear arms in her defense. The latter had from
youth been the only employment of Edward’s father. Military rank
under the crown of Great Britain was attained with much longer
probation, and by much more toilsome services, sixty years ago than
at the present time. Years were passed without murmuring, in the
sub
ordinate grades of the service; and those soldiers who were
stationed
in the colonies felt, when they obtained the command of a company,
that they were entitled to receive the greatest deference from the
peaceful occupants of the soil. Any one of our readers who has
occasion to cross the Niagara may easily observe not only the self
importance, but the real estimation enjoyed by the hum blest
representative of the crown, even in that polar region of royal
sunshine. Such, and at no very distant period, was the respect paid
to the military in these States, where now, happily, no symbol of
war
is ever seen, unless at the free and tearless voice of their
people.
When, therefore, the father of Marmaduke’s friend, after forty
years’ service, retired with the rank of major, maintaining in his
domestic establishment a comparative splendor, he be came a man of
the first consideration in his native colony which was that of New
York. He had served with fidelity and courage, and having been,
according to the custom of the provinces, intrusted with commands
much superior to those to which he was entitled by rank, with
reputation also. When Major Effingham yielded to the claims of age,
he retired with dignity, refusing his half-pay or any other
compensation for services that he felt he could no longer
perform.
The
ministry proffered various civil offices which yielded not only
honor
but profit; but he declined them all, with the chivalrous
independence and loyalty that had marked his character through
life.
The veteran soon caused this set of patriotic disinterestedness to
be
followed by another of private munificence, that, however little it
accorded with prudence, was in perfect conformity with the simple
integrity of his own views.
The
friend of Marmaduke was his only child; and to this son, on his
marriage with a lady to whom the father was particularly partial,
the
Major gave a complete conveyance of his whole estate, consisting of
money in the funds, a town and country residence, sundry valuable
farms in the old parts of the colony, and large tracts of wild land
in the new—in this manner throwing himself upon the filial piety of
his child for his own future maintenance. Major Effingham, in
declining the liberal offers of the British ministry, had subjected
himself to the suspicion of having attained his dotage, by all
those
who throng the avenues to court patronage, even in the remotest
corners of that vast empire; but, when he thus voluntarily stripped
himself of his great personal wealth, the remainder of the
community
seemed instinctively to adopt the conclusion also that he had
reached
a second childhood. This may explain the fact of his importance
rapidly declining; and, if privacy was his object, the veteran had
soon a free indulgence of his wishes. Whatever views the world
might
entertain of this act of the Major, to himself and to his child it
seemed no more than a natural gift by a father of those immunities
which he could no longer enjoy or improve, to a son, who was
formed,
both by nature and education, to do both. The younger Effingham did
not object to the amount of the donation; for he felt that while
his
parent reserved a moral control over his actions, he was relieving
himself of a fatiguing burden: such, indeed, was the confidence
existing between them, that to neither did it seem anything more
than
removing money from one pocket to another.
One
of the first acts of the young man, on corning into possession of
his
wealth, was to seek his early friend, with a view to offer any
assistance that it was now in his power to bestow.
The
death of Marmaduke’s father, and the consequent division of his
small estate, rendered such an offer extremely acceptable to the
young Pennsylvanian; he felt his own powers, and saw, not only the
excellences, but the foibles in the character of his friend.
Effingham was by nature indolent, confiding, and at times impetuous
and indiscreet; but Marmaduke was uniformly equable, penetrating,
and
full of activity and enterprise. To the latter therefore, the
assistance, or rather connection that was proffered to him, seemed
to
produce a mutual advantage. It was cheerfully accepted, and the
arrangement of its conditions was easily completed. A mercantile
house was established in the metropolis of Pennsylvania, with the
avails of Mr. Effingham’s personal property; all, or nearly all, of
which was put into the possession of Temple, who was the only
ostensible proprietor in the concern, while, in secret, the other
was
entitled to an equal participation in the profits. This connection
was thus kept private for two reasons, one of which, in the freedom
of their inter course, was frankly avowed to Marmaduke, while the
other continued profoundly hid in the bosom of his friend, The last
was nothing more than pride. To the descend ant of a line of
soldiers, commerce, even in that indirect manner, seemed a
degrading
pursuit; but an insuperable obstacle to the disclosure existed in
the
prejudices of his father.
We
have already said that Major Effingham had served as a soldier with
reputation. On one occasion, while in command on the western
frontier
of Pennsylvania against a league of the French and Indians, not
only
his glory, but the safety of himself and his troops were jeoparded
by
the peaceful policy of that colony. To the soldier, this was an
unpardonable offence. He was fighting in their defense—he knew that
the mild principles of this little nation of practical Christians
would be disregarded by their subtle and malignant enemies; and he
felt the in jury the more deeply because he saw that the avowed
object of the colonists, in withholding their succors, would only
have a tendency to expose his command, without preserving the
peace.
The soldier succeeded, after a desperate conflict, in extricating
himself, with a handful of his men, from their murderous enemy; but
he never for gave the people who had exposed him to a danger which
they left him to combat alone. It was in vain to tell him that they
had no agency in his being placed on their frontier at all; it was
evidently for their benefit that he had been so placed, and it was
their “religious duty,” so the Major always expressed it, “it
was their religions duty to have supported him.”
At
no time was the old soldier an admirer of the peaceful disciples of
Fox. Their disciplined habits, both of mind and body, had endowed
them with great physical perfection; and the eye of the veteran was
apt to scan the fair proportions and athletic frames of the
colonists
with a look that seemed to utter volumes of contempt for their
moral
imbecility, He was also a little addicted to the expression of a
belief that, where there was so great an observance of the
externals
of religion, there could not be much of the substance. It is not
our
task to explain what is or what ought to be the substance of
Christianity, but merely to record in this place the opinions of
Major Effingham.
Knowing
the sentiments of the father in relation to this people, it was no
wonder that the son hesitated to avow his connection with, nay,
even
his dependence on the integrity of, a Quaker.
It
has been said that Marmaduke deduced his origin from the
contemporaries and friends of Penn. His father had married without
the pale of the church to which he belonged, and had, in this
manner,
forfeited some of the privileges of his offspring. Still, as young
Marmaduke was educated in a colony and society where even the
ordinary intercourse between friends was tinctured with the aspect
of
this mild religion, his habits and language were some what marked
by
its peculiarities. His own marriage at a future day with a lady
without not only the pale, but the influence, of this sect of
religionists, had a tendency, it is true, to weaken his early
impressions; still he retained them in some degree to the hour of
his
death, and was observed uniformly, when much interested or
agitated,
to speak in the language of his youth. But this is anticipating our
tale.
When
Marmaduke first became the partner of young Effingham, he was quite
the Quaker in externals; and it was too dangerous an experiment for
the son to think of encountering the prejudices of the father on
this
subject. The connection, therefore, remained a profound secret to
all
but those who were interested in it.
For
a few years Marmaduke directed the commercial operations of his
house
with a prudence and sagacity that afforded rich returns. He married
the lady we have mentioned, who was the mother of Elizabeth, and
the
visits of his friend were becoming more frequent. There was a
speedy
prospect of removing the veil from their intercourse, as its
advantages became each hour more apparent to Mr. Effingham, when
the
troubles that preceded the war of the Revolution extended
themselves
to an alarming degree.
Educated
in the most dependent loyalty, Mr. Effingham had, from the
commencement of the disputes between the colonists and the crown,
warmly maintained what he believed to be the just prerogatives of
his
prince; while, on the other hand, the clear head and independent
mind
of Temple had induced him to espouse the cause of the people. Both
might have been influenced by early impressions; for, if the son of
the loyal and gallant soldier bowed in implicit obedience to the
will
of his sovereign, the descendant of the persecuted followers of
Penn
looked back with a little bitterness to the unmerited wrongs that
had
been heaped upon his ancestors.
This
difference in opinion had long been a subject of amicable dispute
between them: but, Latterly, the contest was getting to be too
important to admit of trivial discussions on the part of Marmaduke,
whose acute discernment was already catching faint glimmerings of
the
important events that were in embryo. The sparks of dissension soon
kindled into a blaze; and the colonies, or rather, as they quickly
declared themselves, THE STATES, became a scene of strife and
bloodshed for years.
A
short time before the battle of Lexington, Mr. Effingham, already a
widower, transmitted to Marmaduke, for safe-keeping, all his
valuable
effects and papers; and left the colony without his father. The war
had, however, scarcely commenced in earnest, when he reappeared in
New York, wearing the Livery of his king; and, in a short time, he
took the field at the head of a provincial corps. In the mean time
Marmaduke had completely committed himself in the cause, as it was
then called, of the rebel lion. Of course, all intercourse between
the friends ceased—on the part of Colonel Effingham it was
unsought, and on that of Marmaduke there was a cautious reserve. It
soon became necessary for the latter to abandon the capital of
Philadelphia; but he had taken the precaution to remove the whole
of
his effects beyond the reach of the royal forces, including the
papers of his friend also. There he continued serving his country
during the struggle, in various civil capacities, and always with
dignity and usefulness. While, however, he discharged his functions
with credit and fidelity, Marmaduke never seemed to lose sight of
his
own interests; for, when the estates of the adherents of the crown
fell under the hammer, by the acts of confiscation, he appeared in
New York, and became the purchaser of extensive possessions at
comparatively low prices.
It
is true that Marmaduke, by thus purchasing estates that had been
wrested by violence from others, rendered himself obnoxious to the
censures of that Sect which, at the same time that it discards its
children from a full participation in the family union, seems ever
unwilling to abandon them entirely to the world. But either his
success, or the frequency of the transgression in others, soon
wiped
off this slight stain from his character; and, although there were
a
few who, dissatisfied with their own fortunes, or conscious of
their
own demerits, would make dark hints concerning the sudden
prosperity
of the unportioned Quaker, yet his services, and possibly his
wealth,
soon drove the recollection of these vague conjectures from men’s
minds. When the war ended, and the independence of the States was
acknowledged, Mr. Temple turned his attention from the pursuit of
commerce, which was then fluctuating and uncertain, to the
settlement
of those tracts of land which he had purchased. Aided by a good
deal
of money, and directed by the suggestions of a strong and practical
reason, his enterprise throve to a degree that the climate and
rugged
face of the country which he selected would seem to forbid. His
property increased in a tenfold ratio, and he was already ranked
among the most wealthy and important of his countrymen. To inherit
this wealth he had but one child—the daughter whom we have
introduced to the reader, and whom he was now conveying from school
to preside over a household that had too long wanted a
mistress.
When
the district in which his estates lay had become sufficiently
populous to be set off as a county, Mr. Temple had, according to
the
custom of the new settlements, been selected to fill its highest
judicial station. This might make a Templar smile; but in addition
to
the apology of necessity, there is ever a dignity in talents and
experience that is commonly sufficient, in any station, for the
protection of its possessor; and Marmaduke, more fortunate in his
native clearness of mind than the judge of King Charles, not only
decided right, but was generally able to give a very good reason
for
it. At all events, such was the universal practice of the country
and
the times; and Judge Temple, so far from ranking among the lowest
of
his judicial contemporaries in the courts of the new counties, felt
himself, and was unanimously acknowledged to be, among the
first.
We
shall here close this brief explanation of the history and
character
of some of our personages leaving them in future to speak and act
for
themselves.
