THE CHAINBEARER;
OR,
THE LITTLEPAGE'oMANUSCRIPTS.
BY J. FENIMORE COOPER.
"O bid our vain endeavours cease,
Revive the just designs of Greece;
Return in all thy simple state.
vlontirm the tale her sons relate."
9-OMPLETE IN ONE VOLIJUI
NEW EDITION.
NEW YORK:
I1TJBLTSHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON.
m;hr~l ~gc:  iberrge 3re1872.
1872.




THE   C-ItAIN-BEAlIEI.
Enteied, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 185, pe
J. FENIMORB    COOPER.
in the clerk's, vmce of the District C ourt tor ihe Northern Distr'ia
of New i orK.




P RE FACE.
TIIE plot has thickened in the few short months
that have intervened since the appearance of the first
portion of our Manuscripts, and bloodshed has come
to deepen the stain left on the country by the widespread and bold assertion of false principles. This
must long since have been foreseen; and it is perhaps
a subject of just felicitation, that the violence which
has occurred was limited to the loss of a single life,
when the chances were, and still are, that it will extend to civil war.  That portions of the community
have behaved nobly~ under this sudden outbreak of a
lawless and unprincipled combination to rob, is undeniable, and ought to be dwelt on with gratitude
and an honest pride; that the sense of right of much
the larger portion of the country has been deeply
wounded, is equally true; that justice has been
aroused, and is at this moment speaking in tones of
authority to the offenders, is beyond contradiction:
but, while all this is admitted, and admitted not altogether without hope, yet are there grounds for fear,
so reasonable and strong, that no writer who is faithful to the real interests of his. country ought, for a
single moment, to lose sight of them.
High authority, in one sense, or that of political
power, has pronounced the tenure of a durable lease
to be opposed to the spirit of the institutions! Yet
these tenures existed when the institutions wtere
formed, and one of the provisions of the idistitutions
heinselves guarantees the observance of the cove(3)




iV                PItEFACE.
nants under which the tenures exist. It would have
been far wiser, and much nearer to the truth, had
those who coveted their neighbours' goods been told
that. in their attempts to subvert and destroy the
tenures in question, they were opposing a solemn and
fundamental provision of law, and in so much opposing the institutions.  The capital error is becoming
prevalent, which holds the pernicious doctrine that
this is a government of men, instead of one of principles. Whenever this error shall so far come to a
head as to get to be paramount in action, the welldisposed may sit down and mourn over, not only the
liberties of their country, but over its justice and its
morals, even should men be nominally so free as to do
just what they please.
As the Littlepage Manuscripts advance, we find
them becoming more and more suited to the times in
which we live. There is an omission of one genetion, however, owing to the early death of Mr. Malbone Littlepage, who left an only son to succeed him.
This son has felt it to be a duty to complete the
series by an addition from his own pen. Without
this addition, we should never obtain views of Satanstoe, Lilacsbush, Ravensnest, and Mooseridge, in their
present aspects; while with it, we may possibly Qbtain glimpses that will prove not only amusing but
instructive.
There is one point on which, as editor of these
Manuscripts, we desire to say a word. It is thought
by a portion of our readers, that the first Mr. Littlepage who has written, Cornelius of that name, has
manifested an undue asperity on the subject of the
New England character. Our reply to this charge




PREFACE.                    V
is as follows: In the first place, we do not pretend
to be answerable for- all the opinions of those whose
writings are submitted to our supervision, any more
than we should be answerable for all the contradictory characters, impulses, and opinions that might
be exhibited in a representation of fictitious characters, purely of our own creation. That the Littlepages entertained New York notions, and if the reader
will, New York prejudices, may be true enough; but
in pictures of this sort, even prejudices become facts
that ought not to be altogether kept down. Then,
New England has long since anticipated hdr revenge.
glorifying herself and underrating her neighbours in
a way that, in our opinion, fully justifies those who
possess a little Dutch blood, in expressing their sentiments on the subject. Those who give so freely
should know how to take a little in return; and that
more especially, when there is nothing very direct or
personal in the hits they receive. For ourserves, we
have not a drop of Dutch or New England blood in
our veins, and only appear as a bottle-holder to one
of the parties in this set-to. If we have recorded
what the Dutchman says of the Yankee, we have
also recorded what the Yankee says, and that with
no particular hesitation, of the Dutchman. We know
that these feelings are bygones; but our Manuscripts,
thus far, have referred exclusively to the times in
which they certainly existed, and that, too, in a force
quite as great as they are here represented to be.
We go a little farther. In our judgment the false
principles that are to be found in a large portion of
the educated classes, on the subject of the relation
between landlord. and tenant, are to be traced to the
1 *




VI                P IREF ACE.
provincial notions of those who have received their
impressions from a state of society in which no such
relations exist. The danger from the anti-rent doctrines is most to be apprehended from these false
principles; —the misguided and impotent beings who
have taken the field in the literal sense, not being a
fourth part as formidable to the right, as those who
have taken it in the moral.  There is not a particle
more of reason in the argument which says that there
should be no farmers, in the strict meaning of the
term, than there would be in that which said there
should be no journeymen connected with the crafts;
though it would not be easy to find a man to assert
the latter doctrine. We dare say, if there did happen
to exist a portion of the country in which the mechanics were all " bosses," it would strike those who
dwelt in such a state of society, that it would be sin-.
gularly improper and anti-republican for any man to
under take journeywork.
On this subject we shall only Add one word. The
column of society must have its capital as well as its
base. It is only perfect while each part is entire, and
discharges its proper duty. In New York the great
landholders long have, and do still, in a social sense,
occupy the place of the capital. On the supposition
that this capital is broken and hurled to the ground,
of what material will be the capital that must be
pushed into its place!'We know of none half so
likely to succeed, as the country extortioner and the
country usurer! WVe would caution those who now
raise the cry of feudality and aristocracy, to have a
care of what they are about. In lieu of King Log,
they may be devoured by King Stork.




THIE CHAINBEARER.
CHAPTER I.
" The steady brain, the sinewy limb,
To leap, to climb, to dives to swim:
The iron frame, inured to bear
Each dire inclemency of air;
Nor less confirmed to undergo
Fatigue's faint chill, and famine's throe."
ROKIeBY.
MY father was Cornelius Littlepage, of Satansto3, ill the
county of West Chester, and State of New.York; and my
mother was Anneke Mordaunt, of Lilacsbush, a place long
known by that name, which still stands near Kingsbridge,
but on the island of Manhattan, and-consequently in one of
the wards of New York, though quite eleven miles from
town. I shall suppose that my readers know the difference
between the Island of Manhattan, and Manhattan Island;
though I have found soi-disant Manhattanese, of mature
years, but of alien birth, who had to be taught it. Lilacsbush, I repeat therefore, was on the Island of Manhattan,
eleven miles from town, though in the city of New York,
and not on Manhattan Island.
Of my progenitors further back, I do not conceive it ne.
cessary to say much. They were partly of English, and
partly of Low Dutch extraction; as is apt to be the case
with those who come of New York families of any standing
in the colony. I retain tolerably distinct impressions of
both of my grandfathers, and of one of my grandmothers;
my mother's mother having died long before my own parents were married.
(7)




8            T IE CHAINBEA R E R.
Of my maternal grandfather I know very little, however,
he having died while I was quite young, and before I had
seen much of him. He paid the great debt of nature in
England, whither he had gone on a visit to a relative, a Sir
Something Bulstrode, who had been in the colonies himself, and'who was a great favourite with Herman Mordaunt,
as my mother's parent was universally called in New York.
My father ofien said, it was perhaps fortunate in one respect, that his father-in-law died as he did, since he had no
doubt he would have certainly taken sides with the crown,
in the quarrel that so soon after occurred, in which case it
is probable his estates, or those which were my mother's,
and are now mine, would have shared the fate of those of
the de Lanceys, of the Philipses, of some of the Van Cortlandts, of the Floyds, of the Joneses, and of various others
of the heavy families, who remained loyal, as it was called;
meaning loyalty to a prince, and not loyalty to the land of
their nativity. It is hard to say which were right, in such
a quarrel, if we look at the opinions and prejudices of the
times, though the Littlepages to a man, which means only
my father, and grandfather, and self, took sides with. tne
country. In the way of self-interest, it ought to be remarked, however, that the.wealthy American who opposed the
crown, showed much the most disinterestedness, inasmuch
as the chances of being subdued were for a long time very
serious, while the certainty of-confiscation, not to say of
being hanged, was sufficiently well established, in the event
of failure. But, my paternal grandfather was what was
called a whig, of the high caste. He was made a brigadier
in the militia, in 1776, and was actively employed in the
great campaign of the succeeding year; that in which Burgoyne was captured, as indeed was my father, who held the
rank of lieutenant-colonel in the New York line. There
was also a  ntnjor Dirck Van Volkenburgh, or Follock, as
he was usually called, in the same regiment with my father,
who was a sworn friend. This major Follock was an old
bachelor, and he lived quite as much in my father's house
as he did in his own; his proper residence being across the
river, in Rockland.  My mother had a friend, as well as
my father, in the person of Miss Mary Wallace; a single
lady, well turned of thirty at the commencement of the re.




THE CHA1NBEARE R.                        9
uolution.  Miss Wallace was quite at ease in her circum
stances, but she lived altogether at Lilacsbush, never having
any other home, unless it might be at our house in town.
We were very proud of the brigadier, both on account of
his rank and on account of his services. He actually commanded in one expedition against the Indians during the
revolution, a service in which he had some experience,
hIaving been out on it, on various occasions, previously to
the great struggle for independence.  It was in one of these
early expeditions of the latter war that he first distinguished
himself, being then under the orders of a colonel Brom
Follock, who was the father of major Dirck of the same
name, and who was almost as great a friend of my grand.
father as the son was of my own parent. This colonel
Brom loved a carouse, and I have heard it said that, getting
among the High Dutch on the Mohawk, he kept it up for a
week, with little or no intermission, under circumstances
that involved much military negligence.  The result was
that a party of Canada Indians made an inroad on his command, and the old colonel, who was as bold as a lion, and
as drunk as a lord, though why lords are supposed to be
particularly inclined to drink I never could tell, was both
shot down and scalped early one morning as he was returning from  an adjacent tavern to his quarters in the
"garrison," where he was stationed. My grandfather nobly
revenged his death, scattering to the four winds the invading
party, and receiving the mutilated body of his friend, though
the scalp'was irretrievably lost.
General Littlepage did not survive the war, though it was
not his good fortune to die on the fields thus identifying his
name with the history of his country.  It happens in all
wars, and most especially did it often occur in our own.great national struggle, that more soldiers lay down their
lives in the hospitals than on the field of battle, though the
shedding of blood seems an indispensable requisite to glory
of this nature; an ungrateful posterity taking little heed of
the thousands who pass into another state of being, the
victims of exposure and camp diseases, to sound the praises
of the hundreds who are slain amid the din of battle.  Yet,
it may be- questioned if it do not require more true courage
to face death when he approaches in the invisible form ot




1O           THE  CHAINBEARER.
lisease, than to meet him when openly arrayed under the
armed hand.  My grandfiather's conduct in remaining in
camp, armong hundreds of those who had the smallpox, the
loathsome malady of which he died, was occasionally alluded
to, it is true, but never in the manner the death of an officer
of his rank would have been mentioned, had he fallen in
battle. I could see that major Follock had an honourable
pride in the fate of his father, who was slain and scalped by
the enemy in returning from a drunken carouse, while my
worthy parent ever referred to the death of the brigadier as
an event to be deplored, rather than exulted in. For my
own part, I think my grandfather's end was much the most
creditable of the two; but, as such, it will never be viewed
by the historian, or the country.  As for historians, it requires a man to be singularly honest to write against a
prejudice; and it is so much easier to celebrate a deed, as it
is imagined than as it actually occurred, thatI question if
we know the truth of a tenth part of the exploits about which
we vapour, and in which we fancy we glory. Well! we;re taught to believe that the time will come when all things
are to be seen in their true colours, and when men and deeds
will be known as they actually were, rather than as they
have been recorded in the pages of history.
I was too young myself to take much part in the war of
the revolution, though accident made me an eye-witness of
some of its most important events, and that at the tender
age of fifteen. At twelve-the American intellect ever was
and continues to be singularly precocious — I was sent to
Nassau Hall, Princeton, to be educated, and I remained there
until I finally got a degree, though it was not without several long and rude interruptions of my studies.  Although
so early sent to college, I did not actually graduate until I
was nineteen, the troubled times requiring nearly twice as
long a servitude to make a Bachelor of Arts of me as would
have been necessary in the more halcyon days of peace.
Thus I made a fragment of a campaign when only a sophomore, and another the first year I was junior.  I say the
first year, because I was obliged to pass two years in each
of the two higher classes of the institution, in order to make
up for lost time. A youth cannot very well be campaigning
and studying Euclid in the academic bowers, at the same




TIIE CHAINBEARER.                    11
moment. Then I was so young, thiat a year, more or less
was. of no great moment.
My principal service in the war of the revolution was in
1777, or in the campaign in which Burgoyne was met and
captured. That important service was performed by a force
that was composed partly of regular troops, and partly of
militia. My grandfather commanded a brigade of the last,
or what was called a.brigade, some six hundred men at
most; while my father led a regular battalion of one hundred and sixty troops of the New York line, into the Ger.
man intrenchments, the memorable and bloody day the last
were stormed. How many he brought out I never heard
him say. The way in which I happened to be present in
these important scenes, is soon told.
Lilacsbush being on the Island of Manhattan, (not Manhattan Islahd, be it always remembered), and our family
being whig, we were driven from both our town and country
houses, the moment Sir William Howe took possession of
New York. At first, my mother was content with going
merely to Satanstoe, which was only a short distance from
the enemy's lines; but the political character of the Little.
pages being too well established to render this a safe resi.
dence, my grandmother and mother, always accompanied
by Miss Wallace, went up above the Highlands, where they
established themselves in the village of Fishkill, for the
remainder of the war, on a farm that belonged to Miss
Wallace, in fee. Here it was thought they were safe, being
seventy miles from the capital, and quite within the American lines. As this removal took place at the close of the
year 1776, and after independence had been declared, it
was understood that our return to our proper homes at all
depended on the result of the war. At that time I was a
sophomore, and at home in the long vac~aion. It was in
his visit that I made my fragment of a campaign, accom.
panying my father through all the closing movements of his
regiment, while Washington and Howe were manoeuvring
in Westchester.  My rather's battalion happening to be
posted in such a manner as to be in the centre of battle at
White Plains, I had an opportunity of seeing some pretty
serious service on that occasion. Nor did I quit the army,
and return-to my.',dies, until after the brilliant affairs &t




lo           T IE  CHAIN BEARER.
Trenton,nd Princeton, in both of which our regiment par.
ticipated
This was a pretty early commencement with the things
of active life, for a boy of fourteen.  But, in that war, lads
of my age often carried muskets, for the colonies covered a
great extent of country, and had but few people. They who
read of the war of the American revolution, and view its
campaigns and battles as they woull regard. the conflicts of
older and more advanced nations, can form no just notions
of the disadvantages with which our people had to contend,
or the great superiority of the enemy in all the usual elements of military force. Without experienced officers, with
but few and indifferent arms, often in want of ammunition,
the rural and otherwise peaceful population of a thinly peopled country were brought in conflict with the chosen warl:iors of Europe; and this, too, with little or done of that
great sinew of war, money, to sustain them. Nevertheless,
the Americans, unaided by any foreign skill, or' succour,
were about as often successful as the reverse. Bunker Hill,
Bennington, Saratoga, Bhemis' Heights, Trenton, Princeton,
Monmouth, were all purely American battles; to say nothing of divers others that occurred further south; and,
though insignificant as to numbers, compared with the con.
flicts of these later times, each is worthy of a place in history, and one or two are almost without parallels; as is
seen when Bunker Hill be named. It sounds very well in a
despatch, to swell out the list of an enemy's *ranks; but,
admitting the number itself not to be overrated, as so often
occurred, of what avail are men without arms or ammuni.
tion, and frequently without any other military organization
than a muster-roll!
I have said I made nearly the whole of the campaign in
vhich Burgoyn2 was taken. It happened in this wise. The
service of the previous year had a good deal indisposed me
to study, and when'again at home, in the autumn vacation,
my dear mother sent me with clothing and supplies to my
father, who was with the army at the north.  I reached the
head-quarters of general Gates a week before the affair of
Bhenlis' Heights, and was with my father until the capitulation was completed. Owing to these circumstances, though
still a boy in years, I was an eye-witness, and in son'e meal




THE  CIIAINBEARER..                   13
sgire, an actor in two or three of the mnost important events
of the whole war. Being well-grown for my years, and of
a somewhat manly appearance considering how young I
really was, I passed very well as a volunteer, being, I have
reason to think, somewhat of a favourite in the regiment.
In the last battle, I had the honour to act as.a sort of aide.
de-camp to my grandfather, who sent me with orders and
messages, two or three times, into the midst of the fire. In
this manner I made myself a little known, and all so much
the more, from the circumstance of my being in fact nothing
but a college lad, away from his alma mater, during vacation.
It was but natural that a boy thus. situated should attract
some little attention, and I was noticed by officers, who,
under other circumstances, would hardly have felt it necessary to go out of their way to speak to me. The Littlepages
had stood well, I have reason to think, in the colony, and
their position in the new state was not likely to be at all
lowered by the part they were now playing in the revolu.
tion.  I am  far from certain that general Littlepage was
considered a corner post in the Temple of Freedom that the
army was endeavouring to rear, but he was quite respecta.
ble as a militia officer, while my father was very generally
admitted to be one of the best lieutenants-colonel in the
whole army.
I well remember to have been much struck with a captain
in my father's regiment, who certainly was a character, in
his way. His origin was Dutch, as was the case with a fair
proportion of the officers; and he bore the name of Andries
Ooejemans, though he was universally known by the sobriquet of the " Chainbearer." It was fortunate for him it
was so, else would the Yankees in the camp, who seem to
have a mania to pronounce every word as it is spelled, and
having succeeded in this, to change the spelling of the whole
language to accommodate it to certain sounds of their own
inventing, would have given him a most unpronounceable
appellation. He even only knows what they would have
called captain Coejemans, but for this lucky nick-name; but
it may be as well to let the uninitiated understand at once,
that, in New York parlance, Coejemans is called Queemans.
The Chainbearer was of a respectable Dutch family, one
2




14           T IIE  CHAINBEAR E R.
that has even given its queer- looking name to a place of
some little note on the Hudson; but, as was very apt to be
the case with the cadets of such houses, in the good old
time of the colony, his education was no great matter. His
means had once been respectable, but, as he always maintained, he was cheated out of his substance by a Yankee
before he was three-and-twenty, and he had had recourse to
surveying for a living from that time. But Andries had no
head for mathematics, and, after making one or two notable
blunders in the way of his new profession, he quietly sunk
to the station of a Chainbearer, in which capacity he was
known to all the leading men of his craft in the colony   It
is said that every man is suited to some pursuit or other, in
which he might acquire credit, would he only enter on it
and persevere. Thus it proved to be with Andries Coejemans. As a Chainbearer he had an unrivalled reputation.
Humble as was the occupation, it admitted of excellence in
various particulars, as well as another.  In the first place,
it required honesty, a quality in which this class of men
can fail, as well as all the rest of mankind. Neither colony
nor patentee, landlord nor tenant, buyer nor seller, need be
uneasy about being fairly dealt by, so long as Andries
Coejemans held the forward end of the chain; a. duty on
which he was invariably placed, by one party or the other.
Then, a practical eye -was a great aid to positive measurement; and, while Andries never swerved to the right or to
the left of his course, having acquired a sort of instinct in
his calling, much time and labour were saved.  In addition
to these advantages, the " Chainbearer" had acquired great
skill in all the subordinate matters of his calling.  He whs
a capital woodsman, generally; had become a good hunter,
and had acquired most of the habits that pursuits like those
in which he was engaged, for so many years previously to
entering the army, would be likely to give a man. In the
course of time, he took patents to survey, employing men
with heads better than his own to act as principals, while
he still carried the chain.
At the commencement of the revolution, Andries, like
most of those who sympathized with the colonies, took up
arms. When the regiment of which my father was the
lieutenant-colonel was raised, they who could bring to its




THE  CHAINBEARER.                     15
colours so many men received commissions of a rank pro.
portioned to their services in this respect.  Andries had
presented himself early with a considerable squad of chain.
bearers, hunters, trappers, runners, guides, &c., numbering
in the whole something like five-and-twenty hardy, resolute
sharpshooters. Their leader was made a lieutenant in con.
sequence, and being the oldest of his rank in the corps, he,
was shortly after promoted to a captaincy, the station he
was in when I made his acquaintance, and above which he
never rose.
Revolutions, more especially such as are of a popular
character, are not remarkable for bringing forward those
who are highly educated, or otherwise fitted for their new
stations, unless it may be on the score of zeal.  It is true,
service generally classes men, bringing out their qualities,
and necessity soon compels the preferment of those who are
the best qualified. Our own great national struggle, however, probably did less of this than any similar event of
modern times, a respectable mediocrity having accordingly
obtained an elevation that, as a rule, it was enabled to keep
to the close of the war.  It is a singular fact that not a
solitary instance is to be found in our military annals of a
young soldier's rising to high command, by the force of his
talents, in all that struggle. This may have been, and in a
measure probably was owing to the opinions of the people,
and to the circumstance that the service itself was one that
demanded greater prudence and circumspection than qualities of a more dazzling nature; or the qualifications of age
and experience, rather than those of youth and enterprise.
It is probable Andries Coejemans, on the score of original
station, was rather above than below the level of the social
positions of a majority of the subalterns of the different lines
ofithe more northern colonies, when he first joined the army.
It is true, his education was not equal to his birth; for, in
that day, except in isolated instances and particular families,
the Dutch of New York, even in cases in which money was
not wanting, were anything but scholars. In this particular,
our neighbours the Yankees had greatly the advantage of
us. They sent everybodly to school, and, though their
educations were principally those of smatterers, it is an a.-,antage to be even a sinattrei aniong the very ignorant.




16            TIlE  CHAINBEAREr.
Andries had been no student either, and one may easily
imagine what indifferent cultivation will effect on a naturally
thin soil.  He could read and write, it is true, but it was
the cyphering under which he broke down, as a surveyor.
I have often heard him say, that " if land could be measured
without figures, he would turn his back on no man in the
calling in all America, unless it might be' His Excellency,'
who, he made no doubt, was not only the best, but the ho.
nestest surveyor mankind had ever enjoyed."
The circumstance that Washington had practised the art
of a surveyor for a short time in his early youth, was a
source of great exultation with Andries Coejemans. He
felt that it was an honour to be even a subordinate in a pursuit in which such a man was a principal. I remember,
that long after we were at Saratoga together, captain Coejemans, while we were before Yorktown, pointed to the comrnander-in-chief one day, as the latter rode past our encampment, and cried out, with emphasis   " T'ere, Mortaunt,
my poy-t'ere goes His Excellency!-It woult be t'e happiest tay of my life, coult I only carry chain while he
survey't a pit of a farm, in this neighbourpoot."
Andries was more or less Dutch in his dialect, as he was
more or less interested.  In general, he spoke English pretty
well-colony English I mean, not that of the schools; though
he had not a single Yankeeism in his vocabulary.  On this
last point, he prided himself greatly, feeling an honest pride,
if he did occasionally use vulgarisms, a vicious pronunciation, or make a mistake in the meaning of a word, a sin he
was a little apt to commit; and that his faults were all honest New York mistakes, and no s" New Englant gipperish."
In the course of the various visits I paid to the camp, Andries and myself became quite intimate, his peculiarities
seizing my fancy; and, doubtless, my obvious admiration
awakening his gratitude.  In the course of our many con.
versations, he gave me his whole history, commencing with
the emigration of the Coeiemans from Holland, and ending
with our actual situation, i.- the camp at Saratoga. Andrics
had been often engaged, and, before the war terminated, I
could boast of having been at his side in no less than six
affairs myself, viz: White Plains, Trenton, Princeton, Bhemis' Heights Monmouth, and Brandywine; for I had stolen




THE  CHAINBBARER.                     17
away from college to be present at the last affair. The
circumstance that our regiment was both with Washington
and Gates was owing to the noble qualities of the former,
who sent off some of his best troops to reinforce his rival,
as things gathered to a head at, the north. Then I was pre..
sent throughout, at the siege of Yorktown.  But, it is not
my intention, to enlarge on my own military services.
While at Saratoga, I was much struck with the air, posi.
tion and deportment of a gentleman who appeared to comrn
mand the respect, and to obtain the ears of an the leaders
in the American camp, while he held no apparent official
station. He wore no uniform, though he was addressed by
the title of general, and had much more of the character of
a real soldier than Gates, who commanded. He must have
been between forty and fifty at that time, and in the full
enjoyment of the vigour of his mind and body. This-was
Philip Schuyler, so justly celebrated in our annals for his
wisdom, patriotism, integrity, and public services. His connection with the great northern campaign is too well known
to require any explanations here. Its success, perhaps, was
more owing to his advice and preparations than to the in.
fluence of any one other mind, and he is beginning already
to take a place in history, in connection with these great
events, that has a singular resemblance to that he occupied
during their actual occurrence: in other words, he is to be
seen in the back-ground of the.great national picture, unobtrusive and modest, but directing and controlling all, by the
power of his intellect, and the influence of his experience
and character. Gates* was but a S'econdary personage, in
the.real events of that memorable period. Schuyler was the
presiding spirit, though forced by popular prejudice to retire
from the apparent command of the army. Our written accounts ascribe the difficulty that worked this injustice to
Schuyler, to ea prejudice which existed among the eastern
militia, and which is supposed to have had its origin in the
disasters of St. Clair; or the reverses which attended the
earlier movements of the campaign. My father, who had
* It may not be amiss to remark, in passing, that Horace Walpole,
in one of his recently published letters, speaks of a Horatio Gats t as
his godson. Walpole was born in 1718, and Gates in 1728.
2*




18            THE CHAINBEARER.
known general Schuyler in the war of'56, when he acted
as Bradstreet's right-hand man, attributed the feeling to a
different cause. According to his notion of the alienation,
it was owing to the difference in habits and opinions which
existed between Schuylei:r,   a New York gentleman, and
the yeomen of New England, who came out in 1777, im.
bued with all the distinctive notions of their very peculiar
state of society. There may have been prejudices on both
sides, but it is easy to see which party exhibited most mag.
nanimity antself-sacrifice. Possibly, the last was insepara.
ble from the preponderance of numbers, it not being an easy
thing to persuade masses of men that they can be wrong,
and a single individual right.  This is the great error of
democracy, which fancies truth is to be proved by counting
noses; while aristocracy commits the antagonist blunder of
believing that excellence is inherited, from male to male,
and that too in the order of primogeniture!  It is not easy
to say where one is to look for truth, in this life.
As for general Schuyler, I have thought my father was
right in ascribing his unpopularity solely to the prejudices
of provinces. The Muse of History is the most ambitious
of the whole sisterhood, and never thinks she has done her
duty unless all she says and records is said and recorded
with an air of profound philosophy; whereas, more than
half of the greatest events which affect human interest, are
to be referred to causes that have little connection with, our
boasted intelligence; in any shape. Men feel far more than
they reason, and a little feeling is very apt to upset a great
deal of philosophy.
It has been said that I passed six years at Princeton;
nominally, if not in fact; and that I graduated at nineteen.
This happened the year Cornwallis surrendered, and I actually served at the siege as the youngest ensigh in my
father's battalion. I had also the happiness, for such it was
to me, to be attached to the company of captain Coejemans,
a circumstance which clenched the friendship I had formed
for that singular old man. I say old', for by this time Andries
was every hour of sixty-seven, though as hale, and hearty,
and active, as any officer in the corps. As for hardships,
obl;y years of training, most of which had been passed in




THE CHAINBEARER.                      19
the woods, placed himn quite at our head, in the way of endurance.
I loved my predecessors, grandfather and grandmother
included, not only as a matter of course, but with sincere
filial attachment; and I loved Miss Mary Wallace, or aunt
Mary, as I had been taught to call her, quite as much on
account of her quiet, gentle, affectionate manner, as from
habit; and I loved major Dirck Follock as a sort ot hereditary friend, as a distant relative, and a good and careful
guardian of my own youth and inexperience on a thousand
occasions; and I loved my fathce.sj.egro man, Jaap, a, we
all love faithful slaves, however unnurtured: they rmay be;
but Andries was the man whom I loved without khowing
why.  He was illiterate almost to greatness, having the
drollest notions imaginable of this earth and all it contained;
was anything but refined in deportment, thougnh hearty and
frank; had prejudices so crammed into his moral system
that there did not seem to be room for anything else; and
was ever so little'addicted, moreover, to that species of
Dutch jollification, which had cost old colonel Van Valkenburgh his life, and a love for which was a good deal spread
throughout the colony. Nevertheless, I really loved this
man, and when we were all disbanded at the peace, or in
1783, by which time I had myself risen to the rank of captain, I actually parted from old Andries with tears in my
eyes. My grandfather, general Littlepage, was then dead,
but government giving to most of us a step, by means of
brevet rank, at the final breaking up of the army, my father,
who had been the full colonel of the regiment for the last
year, bore the title of brigadier for the remainder of his
days. It was pretty much all he got for seven years of
dangers and arduous services.  But the countryywas poor,
and we had fought more for Wrincipes than for the h6op  of
rewards. It must be admitted that America ought to be full
of philosophy, inasmuch as so much of her system of re
wards, and even of punishments, is purely theoretical, and
addressed to the imagination, tr to the qualities of the mind.
Thus it is, that we contend with all our enemies on very
uinequal grounds. The Englishman has his knighthood.
his baronetcies, his peerages, his orders, his higher ranks
in the professions, his batons, and all the other venial in.




20             THE  CHAINBEARER.
ducements of our corrupt nature to make him fight, while
the American is goaded on to glory by the abstract considerations of virtue and patriotism.  After all, we flog quite
as often as~we are flogged, which is the main interest affezted. While on this subject I will remark that Andries Coejemans never assumed the empty title of major, which was
s') graciously bestowed on him by the congress of 1783,
but left the army a captain in name, without half-pay, or
anything but his military lot, to find a niece whom he was
bringing up, and to pursue his old business of a " Chain.
bearer."
CHAPTER II.
"A trusty villain, sir; that very oft,
When I am dull with care and melancholy,
Lightens my humours with his many jests."
Domino of Syracuse.
IT will be seen that, while I got a degree, and what is
called an education, the latter was obtained by studies of a
very desultory character. There is no question that learning of all sorts fell off sadly among us during the revolution
and the twenty years that succeeded it. While colonies, we
possessed many excellent instructors who came from Europe; but the supply ceased, in a great measure, as soon
as the troubles commenced; nor was it immediately renewed at the peace.  I think it will be admitted that the gentlemen of the country began to be less well educated about
the time I was sent to college, than' had been the case for
the previous half century, and that the defect has not yet
been repaired.  What the country may do in the first half
of the nineteenth century remains to be seen.*
* The reader will recollect that Mr. Mordaunt Littlepage must
have written his account of himslf and his times, about the close
of the last, or the beginning of this century. Since that time, education has certainly advanced among us; sophomores pursuing branches
zf learning to-day, that were sealed from seniors a few years since.
Learning, however, advances in this country, on the great American
principle of imparting a little to a great many, instead of teaching a
Z'r.ot da!" e, q f0o11 — En FOR




T IIE  CII-AIN BEAR'E R.'21
My' connection with the army aided materially in wean
ing me from home, though few youths had as many temptations to return to the paternal roof' as myself. There were
my beloved mother and my grandmother, in the first place,
both of whom doted on me as on an only son. Then aunt
Mary almost equally shared in my affections.  But, I had
two sisters, one of whom was older, and the other younger
than.myself. The eldest, who was called Anneke, after our
dear mother, was even six years my senior, and was married
early in the war to a gentleman of the name of Kettletas.
Mr. Kettletas was a person of very good estate, and made
my sister perfectly happy. They had several children, and
resided in Dutchess, which was an additional reason for my
mother's choosing that county for her temporary residence.
I regarded Anneke, or Mrs. Kettletas, much as all youths
regard an elder sister, who is affectionate, feminine and respectable; but little Katrinke, or Kate, was my pet. She,
again, was four years younger than myself; and as I was
just two-and-twenty when the army was disbanded, she of
course was only eighteen. This dear sister was a little,
jumping, laughing, never-quiet, merry thing, when I had
taken my leave of her, in 1781, to join the regiment as an
ensign, as handsome and sweet as a rose-bud, and quite as
full of promise.. I remember that old Andries and I used
to pass much of our time in camp, in conversing about our
several pets; he of his niece, and I of my younger sister.
Of course, I never intended to marry, but Kate and I were
to live together; she as my housekeeper and companion,
and I as her elder brother and protector. The one great
good of life with us all was peace, with independence; which
obtained, no one, in our regiment at least, was so little of a
patriot as to doubt of the future. It was laughable to see
with how much gusto and simplicity the old Chainbearer
entered into a-ll these boyish schemes. His niece was an
orphan, it -would seem, the onlychild of an only but a halfsister, and was absolutely dependent on him. for the bread
she put into her mouth.  It.is true that this niece fared
somewhat better than such a support would seem to promise, having been much cared for by a female friend of her
mother's, who, being reduced herself, kept a school, and
had thus bestowed on her ward ia far better education than




22            THE CHAINBEARER.
she could ever have got under her uncle's supervision, had
the last possessed the rictes of' the Van Rensselears, or of
the Van Cortlandts. As has been substantially stated, old
Andries' forte did not lie in education, and they who do not
enjoy the blessings of such a character, seldom duly appreciate their advantages.  It is with the acquisitions-of the
mind, as with those cf mere deportment and the-tastes; we
are apt to undervalue them all, until made familiarly acquainted with their power to elevate and to enlarge. But
the niece of Andries had been particularly fortunate in
falling into the hands she had; Mrs. Stratton having the
means- and the inclination to do all for her, in the way of
instruction, that. was then done for any young woman in
New York, as long as she lived. The death of this kind
friend occurring, however, in 1783, Andries was obliged to
resume the care of his niece, who was now thrown entirely
on himself for support.  It is true, the girl wished to do
something for herself, but this neither the pride nor the
affection of the old Chainbearer would listen to.
"What can the gal do?" Andries said to me significantly,
one day that he was recounting all these particulars. " Sho
can't carry chain, though I do believe, Morty, the chilt
has head enough, and figures enough to survey! It would
do your heart good to read the account of her l'arnin' t'at
t'e olt woman used to send me; though she wrote so' excellent a hant herself, t'at it commonly took me a week to
read one of her letters; that is, from' Respected Friend' to' Humble Sarvent,' as you know them'ere t'ings go."
"Excelient hand! Why, I should think, Andries, the
better the hand, the easier one,could read a letter."
" All a mistake.  When a man writes a scrawl himself,
It's nat'ral he shoult read scrawls easiest, in his own case.
Now, Mrs. Stratton was home-taught, and would be likely
to get into ways t'at a plain man might find difficult to get
alongr wit'."
"Do you think, then, of making a surveyor of your
niece?" I asked, a little pointedly.
" Why, she is hartly strong enough to travel t'rough
the woots, and the callin' is not suitaple to her sex, t'ough
I woult risk hcr against t'e oldest calculator in t'e pro.
yince."




THE CHAINBEARER.                     23
" We call New York a State, now, captain Andries, you
will be so good as to remember."
" Ay, t'at's true, and I peg the State's parton.  Well,
t'ere'll be scrampling enough for t'e land, as soon as the
war is fairly over, a-nd -chainbearing will be a sarviceable
callin', once more. Do yoa know, Morty, they talk of
gifin' all'of our line a quantity of land, privates and officers,
which will make me a lantholter again, the very character
in which I started in life. You will inherit acres enough,
and may not care so much apout owning a few hundret,
more or less, but I own the idee is agreeaple enough to
me."
"Do you propose to commence anew, as a husbandman?"
Tr Not I; the pusiness never agreet wit' me, or I wit' it.
Put a man may survey his own lot, I suppose, and no offence
to greater scholars.  If I get t'e grant t'ey speak of, I shall
set to work and run it out, on my own account, and t'en
we shall see who understants figures, and who don't! If
other people won't trust me, it is no reason I shoult not
trust myself."
I knew that his having broken down in the more intellectual part of his calling was a sore point with old Andries,
and I avoided dwelling on this part of the subject.- In order
to divert his mind to other objects, indeed, I began to question him a little more closely than I had ever done before,
on the subject of his niece, in consequence of which expe.
dient I.now learned many things that were new to me.
The name of the Chainbearer's niece was Duss Malbone,
or so he always pronounced it. In the end, I discovered
that Duss was a sort of Dutch diminutive for Ursula. Ursula
Malbone had none of the Coejemans'blood in her, notwith.
standing she was Andries' sister's daughter. It seemed that
old Mrs. Coejemanswvas twice maried, her second husband
being the father of Duss' mother.  Bob Malbone, as the
Chainbearer always called the girl's father, was an eastern
man, of very good family, but was a reckless spendthrift,
who married Duss the senior, as well as I could learn, for
her property; all of which, as well as that he had inherited
himself, was cleverly gotten rid of within the first ten years
uf their union, and a year or two after the girl was born




24            THE  CHAINBEAR ER.
Both father and mother died within a few months of each
other, and in a very happy moment as regarded worldly
means, leaving poor little Duss with no one to care for her
but her half-uncle, who was then living in the forest, in his
regular pursuits, and the Mrs. Stratton I have mentioned.
There was a half-brother, Bob Malbone having marriea
twice, but he was in the army, and had some near female
relation to support out of his pay. Between the Chainbearer
and Mrs. Stratton, with an occasional offering froth the brother, the means of clothing, nourishing and educating th6
young woman had been found, until she reached her eighteenth year, when the death of her female protector threw
herjiearly altogether on the care of her uncle. The brother
now did his share, Andries admitted; but it was not much
that he could do. A captain himself, his scanty pay barely
sufficed to meet his own wants.
I could easily see that old Andries loved Duss better than
anything else, or any other person. When he was a little
mellow, and that was usually the extent of his debaucheries,
he would prate about her to me, until the tears came into
his eyes, and once he actually proposed that I should marry
her.
" You woult just suit each other," the old man added,'in
a very quaint, but earnest manner, on that memorable occasion; "and as for property, I know you care little for
money, and will have enough for half-a-tozen. - I swear to
you, captain Littlepage,"-for this dialogue took place only
a few months before we were disbanded, and after I had
obtained a company,-" I swear to you, captain Littlepage,
t'e girl is laughing from morning till night, and would make
one of the merriest companions for an olt soltier that ever
promniset' to honour and opey.' Try her once, lad, and see
if I teceive you."
"That may do well knough; friend' Andries, for an old
soldier, whereas you will remember I am but a boy in
years "
"Ay, in years; but olt as a soltier, Morty-olt as White
Plains, or'76; ag I know  from  hafin' seen you unter
irt so; but it is the man, and not the so.";" WeVcll, be it so; but it is the man, and not the soldier




THE CHAINJBEARER.                    25
who is to do the marrying, and I am still a very young
man."
"You might do worse, take my word for it, Mcrtaunt,
my dear poy; for Duss is fun itself, and I have often spoken
of you to her, in a way t'at will make the courtship as easy
as carrying a chain, on t'e Jarmen Flatts."
I assured my friend Andries that I did not think of a wife
yet, and that my taste ran for a sentimental and melancholy
ydi6ng woman, rather than for a laughing girl. The old
Chainbearer took this repulse good-humouredly, though he
renewed the attack: at least a dozen times, before the regiment was disbanded, and we finally separated. I say finally
separated, though it was in reference to our companionship
as soldiers, rather than to our future lives; for I had determined to give Andries employment myself, should nothing
better offer in his behalf.
Nor was I altogether without the means of thus serving a
friend, when the inclination existed. My grandfather, Herman Mordaunt, had left me, to come into' possession on
reaching the age of twenty-one, a considerable estate, in
what is now Washington county, a portion of our territory
that lies north-east from Albany, and at no great distance
from the Hampshire Grants. This property, of many thousands of acres in extent, had been partially settled, under
leases, by himself, previously to my birth, and those lea'e-s.
having'mostly expired, the tenants were remaining at will,
waiting for more quiet times to renew their engagements.
As yet, Ravensnest, for so the estate was called, had given
the family little besides expense and trouble; but the land
being good, and the improvements considerable, it was time
to look for some returns for all our outlays.  This estate
was now mine in fee, my father having formally relinquished its possession in my favour the day I attained my majo
rity. Adjacent to this estate lay that of Mooseridge, which
was the joint property of my father and of his friend major,
or as he was styled in virtue of the brevet rank granted at
the peace, colonel Follock. Mooseridge had been originally
patented by my grandfather, the first general Littlepage,
and old colonel Follock, he who had been slain and scalped
early in the war; bult, on the descent of his moiety of the
tenantry in common to Dirck Follock, my grandfither con




26            TIIE  CIIAINBEARER.
veyed his interest to his own son, who, ere long, must be.
come its owner, agreeably to the laws of nature. This
property had once been surveyed into large lots, but owing
to some adverse circumstances, and the approach of the
troubles, it had never been settled, or surveyed into farms.
All that its owners ever got for it, therefore, was the privi.
lege of paying the crown its quitxeis.; taxes, or reserved
payments of no great amount, It is true, though far more
than the estate had ever yet returned.
While on the subject of lands and tenements, I may as
well finish my opening explanations. My paternal grandfather
was by no means as rich as my father, though the senior,
and of so much higher military rank. His property, or
neck, of Satanstoe, nevertheless, was quite valuable; more
for the quality of the land and its position, than for its extent. In addition to this, he had a few thousand pounds at
interest; stocks, banks, and monied corporations of all
kinds, being then nearly unknown among us. His means
were sufficient for his wants, however, and it was a joyful
day when he found himself enabled to take possession of
his own house again, in consequence of Sir Guy Carleton's
calling in all of his detachments from Westchester. The
Morrises, distinguished whigs as they were, did not get back
to Morrisania until after the evacuation, which took place
November 25, 1783; nor did my father return to Lilacsbush until after that important event. The very year my
grandfather saw Satanstoe, he took the smallpox in camp,
and died.
To own the truth, the place found us all very poor, as
was the case with almost everybody in the country but a
few contractors. It was not the contractors for the American army that were rich; they fared worse than most people; but the few who furnished supplies to the French did
get silver in return for their advances. As for tlie army, it
was disbanded-without any reward but promises, and payment in a currency that depreciated so rapidly that men
were glad to spend recklessly their hard-earned stock lest
it should become perfectly valueless in their hands. I have
heard much, in later years, of the celebrated Newburgh
Letters, and of the want of patriotism that could lead to
their having been written. It may not have been wise, con



THE CHAINBEARER.                      27
sidering the absolute want of the country, to have contemplated the. alternative towards which those letters certainly
cast an oblique glance, but there was nothing in either their
execution, or their drift, which was not perfectly natural for,he circumstances.  It was quite right for Washington to
act as he did in that crisis, though itis highly probable that
even Washington would have felt and acted differently, had
he nothing but the keen Sense of his neglected services,
poverty and forgetfulness, before him, in the perspective.
As for the young officer who actually wrote the letters, it is
probable that justice will never be done to any part of his
conduct, but that which is connected with the elegance of
his diction. It is very well for those who do not suffer to
prate about patriotism; but a country is bound to be just,
before it can lay a high moral claim to this exclusive devotedness to the interests of the majority. Fine words cost
but little, and I acknowledge no great respect for those who
manifest their integrity principally in phrases. This is said
not in the way of personal apology, for our regiment did
not happen to be at Newburgh, at the disbandment; if it
had, I think my father's influence would have kept us from
joining the malcontents; but, at the same time, I fancy his
and my own patriotism would have been much strengthened
by the knowledge that there were such places as Satanstoe,
Lilacsbush, Mlooseridge and Ravensnest. To return to the
account of our property.
My grandfather Mordaunt, notwithstanding his handsome
bequests to me, left the bulk of his estate to my mother.
This would have made the rest of the'family rich, had -it
not been for the dilapidations produced by the war. But
the houses and stores in town were -without tenants who
paid, having been mainly occupied by the enemy; and inren bonds was hard to collect from those who lived
within the British lines.
In a word, it is not easy to impress on the mind of one
who witnesses the present state of the country, its actual
condition in that day. As an incident that occurred to myself, after I had regularly joined the army for duty, v'ill
afford a lively picture of the state of things, I will relate it,
and this the more willingly, as it will be the means of in
troducing to the reader an old friend of the family, and one
who was intimately associated with divers events of my




28           THE CHAIN BEARER.
own Iife, I have spoken of Jaaf, a slave of my father's,
and one of about his own time of life. At the time to which
I allude, Jaaf was a middle-aged, grey-headed negro, with
most of the faults, and with all the peculiar virtues of the
beings of his condition and race. So much reliance had
my mother, in particular, on his fidelity, that she insisted
on his accompanying her husband to the wars, an order
that the black most willingly obeyed; not only because he
loved adventure, but because he especially hated an Indian,
and my father's earliest service was against that portion of
our foes. Although Jaaf acted as a body-servant, he car.
ried a musket, and even drilled with the men. Luckily, the
Littlepage livery was blue turned up with red, and of a very
modest character; a circumstance that almost put Jaaf in
uniform, the fellow obstinately refusing to wear the colours
of any power but that of the family to which he regularly
belonged. In this manner, Jaaf had got to be a queer mixture of the servant and the soldier, sometimes acting in the
one capacity, and sometimes in the other, having at the
same time not a little of the husbandman about him; for
our slaves did all sorts of work.
My -mother had miade it a point that Jaaf should accompany me, on all occasions when I was sent to any distance
from my father. *She naturally enough supposed I had the
most need of the care of a faithful attendant, and the black
had consequently got to be about half transferred to me.
He evidently liked this change, both because it was always
accompanied by change of scene and the chances for new
adventures, and because it gave him an opportunity of relating many of the events of his youth; events that had got
to be worn threadbare, as narratives, with his "ole masser,"
but which were still fresh with his " young."
On the occasion to which there is allusion, Jaaf and I
were returning to camp, from an excursion of some length,
on which I had been sent by the general of division. This
was about the time the continental money made its final fall
to nothing, or next to nothing, it having long stood at about
a hundred dollars- for one. I had provided myself with a
little silver, and very precious it was, and some thirty or
forty thousand dollars of " continental," to defray my tra.
yelling expenses; but, my silver was expended, and the
naper reduced to two or three thousand dollars, when it




THE  CHAINBEARER.                    29
would require the whole stock of the latter to pay for Jaaf's
and my own dinner; nor were the innkeepers' very willing
to give their time and food for it at any price. This vacuum
in my purse took place when I had still two long days' ride
before me, and in a part of the country where I had no ac.
quaintances whatever. Supper and rest were needed for
ourselves, and provender and stabling for our horses. Everything of the sort was cheap enough to be sure, but absolute
want of means rendered the smallest'charge impracticable
to persons in our situation. As for appealing to the pa.
triotism of those who lived by the way-side, it was too late
in the war; patriotism being a very evanescent quality of
the human heart, and particularly addicted to sneaking, like
compassion, behind some convenient cover, when it is to be
maintained at any pecuniary cost. It will do for a capital,
in a revolution, or a war for the first six months perhaps;
but gets to be as worthless as continental money, itself, by
the end of that period. One militia draft has exhausted the
patriotism of thousands of as disinterested heroes as ever
shouldered muskets.
"'Jaap" —I asked of my companion, as we drew near to
the hamlet where I intended to pass the night, and the com.
forts of a warm supper on a sharp frosty evening, began to
haunt my imagination —" Jaap, how much money may you
have about you?"*
"' 1, Masser Mordaunt! - Golly! but dat a berry droll
question, sah!"
"I ask, because my own stock is reduced to just one
York shilling, which goes by the name of only a ninepence
in this part of the world."
" Dat berry little, to tell'e trut', sah, for two gentleum,
and' two large, hungry hosses. Berry little, indeed, sah 
I wish he war' more."
"Yet, I have not a copper more. I gave one thousand
two hundred dollars for the dinner and baiting and oats,
at noon."
"Yes, sah - but, dat conternental, sah, I supposes - no
great t'ing, a'ter all."
* This man is indiscriminately called Yaf, or Yop-York l)utci
Meing far from severe.




30           THE  CHAINBEARER.
"It's a great thing in sound, Jaap, but not much when
it comes to the teeth as you perceive. Nevertheless; we
must eat and drink, and our nags must eat too - I suppose
they may drink, without paying."
"Yes, sah - dat true'nough, yah - yeah - yah"-how
easily that negro laughed! -- " But'e cider wonnerful good
in dis part of'e country, young masser; just needer sweet
ncr sour- den he strong as'e jackass."
"Well, Jaap, how are we to get any of this good cider,
of which you speak?"
" You t'ink, sah, dis part of'e country been talk to much
lately'bout Patty Rism and'e country, sah?"
" I am afraid Patty has been overdone here, as well as in
most other counties."
I may observe here, that Jaap always imagined the beau.
tiful creature he had heard so much extolled' and commended for her comeliness and virtue, was a certain young
woman of this name, with whom all congress was unaccountably in love at the same time.
" Well, den, sah, dere no hope, but our wits. Let me be
masser to-night, and you mind ole Jaap, if he want good
supper. Jest ride ahead, Masser Mordaunt, and give he
order like general Littlepage son, and leave it all to ole
Jaap."
As there was not much to choose, I did ride on, and soon
ceased to hear the hoofs of the negro's horse at my heels.
I reached the inn an hour ere Jaap appeared, and was
actually seated at a capital supper before he rode up, as one
belonging only to himself. Jaap had taken off the Littlepage emblems, and had altogether a most independent air.
His horse was stabled alongside of mine, and I soon found
that he himself was at work on the remnants of my supper,
as they retreated towards the kitchen.
A traveller of my appearance was accommodated with
the best parlour, as a matter of course; and, having applased my appetite, I sat down to read some documents
that were connected with the duty I was on. No one could
have imagined that I had only a York shilling, which is a
Pennsylvania " levy," or a Connecticut " ninepence," in
my purse; for my air was that of one who could pay for
all he wanted - the certainty that, in the long run, my host




TIlE CHAINBEARER.                    31
could not be a loser, giving me a proper degree of confidence.
I had just got through with the documents, and was thidking
how I should employ the hour or two that remained until
it would be time to go to bed, when I heard Jaap tuning his
fiddle in the bar-room. Like most negroes, the fellow had
an ear for music, and had been indulged in his taste, until
he played as well as half the country fiddlers that were to
be met.
The sound of a fiddle in a small hamlet of a cool October
evening, was certain of its result. In falf an hour, the
smiling landlady came to invite me to join the company,
with the grateful information I should not want for a partner, the prettiest girl in the place having come in late, and
being still unprovided for. On entering the bar-room, I was
received with plenty of awkward bows and curtsies, but with
much simple and well-meaning hospitality. Jaap's own
salutations were very elaborate, and.altogether of a character to prevent the suspicion of our ever having met before.
The dancing continued for more tha'n two hours with
spirit, when the time admonished the village maidens of the
necessity of retiring. Seeing an indication of the approaching separation, Jaap held out his hat to me, in a-respectful
manner, when I magnificently dropped my shilling into it,
in a way to attract attention, and passed it round among
the males of the party. One other gave a shilling, two
clubbed and actually produced a quarter, several threw in
sixpences, or fourpence-halfpennies, and coppers made up
the balance. By way of climax, the landlady, who was
good-looking and loved dancing, publicly announced that
the fiddler and his horse should go scot free, until he left
the place. By these ingenious means of Jaap's, I found in
my purse next morning seven-and-sixpence in silver, in adldition to my own shilling, besides coppers enough to keep a
negro in cider for a week.
I have often laughed over Jaap's management, though 1
would not permit him to repeat it. Passing the house of a
man of better condition than common, I presented myself to
its owner, though an entire stranger to him, and told him
my story. Without asking any other confirmation than my
wvord, this gentleman lent me five silver dollars, which an.




32            TH E CHAINBEARER.
swered till my present purposes, and which, I trust, it is
scardely necessary to say, were duly repaid.
It was a haplpy hour to me when I found myself a titular
nmajor, but virtually a freeman, and at liberty to go where I
pleased.  The war had ofifred so little of variety or adven.
ture, since the capture of Cornwallis and the pendency of
the negotiations for peace, that I began to tire of the army;
and now that the country had triumphed, was ready enough
to quit it. The family, that is to say, my grandmother,
mother, aunt Mary and my youngest sister, took possession
of Satanstoe in time to enjoy some of its delicious fruits, in
the autumn of 1782; and early in the following season,
after the treaty was signed, but while the British still remained in town, my mother was enabled to return to Lilacs
bush. As consequences of these early movements, my
father and myself, when we joined the two families, found
things in a better state than might otherwise have been the
case. The Neck was planted, and had enjoyed the advantage of a spring's husbandry, while the grounds of' Lilacs.
bush had been renovated and brought in good condition, by
the matured and practised taste of my admirable mother.
And she was admirable, in all the relations of life! A lady
in feeling and habits, whatever she touched or controlled
imbibed a portion of her delicacy and sentiment. Even the
inanimate things around her betrayed this feature of their
connection with one of her sex's best qualities. I remember
that colonel Dirck Follock remarked to me one day that we
had been examining the offices together, something that was
very applicable to this trait in my mother's character, while
it was perfectly just.
"No one can see Mrs. Littlepage's kitchen, even," he
said, "alt'ough she never seems to enter it, without perceiving," —or' perceifing,' as he pronounced the word, —
" that it is governed by a lady. There are plenty of kitchens
that are as clean, and as large, and as well furnished, but it
is not common to see a kitchen that gives the same ideas
of a good taste in the table, and about the household."
If this was true as to the more homely parts of the habitation, how much truer was it when the distinction was
carried into the superior apartments! There, one saw my
mother in person, and surrounded by those appliances which




THE CHAINBEARER.                      33
leritote refinement, without, however, any of that elaboiate
luxury of which we read in older countries. In America,
we had much fine china, and a good deal of massive plate,
regular dinner-services excepted, previously to the revolution, and my mother had inherited more than was usual of
both; but the country knew little of that degree of domestic
indulgence which is fast creeping in among us, by means
f its enormously increased commerce.
Although the fortunes Qf the country had undergone so
much waste, during seven years of internal warfare, the
elasticity f' a young and vigorous nation soon began to repair the evil. It is true that trade did not fully revive, nor
its connecting interests receive their'g'-iat inpulse, until
after the adoption of the Constitution, which brought the
States under a set of common custom-house regulations;
nevertheless, one year brought about a manifest and most
beneficent change. There was now some security in making
shipments, and the country immediately felt the consequences.  The year'1784 was a sort of breathing time for
the nation, though long ere it was past the bone and sinew
of the republic began to make themselves apparent and felt.
Then it was that, as a people, this community first learned
the immense advantage it had obtained by controlling its
own interests, and by treating them as secondary to those
of no other part of the world. This was the great gain of
all our labours.
CHAPTER III.
"He tells her something,
That makes her blood look out; good sooth, she is
The queen of curds and cream."
Winter's Tale.
HAPPY, happy Lilacsbush! Never can I forget the de.
light with which I roamed over its heights and glens, and
how I rioted in the pleasure of feeling I was again a sort
of master in those scenes which had been the haunts of my
boyhood! It was in the spring of 1784 before I was folded




34            TIlE C H A INBEARER.
to the arms of my mother; and this, too, after a separation
of near two years. Kate laughed, and wept, and hugged
me, just as she would have done five years earlier, though
she was now a lovely young woman, turned of nineteen.
As for aunt Mary, she shook hands, gave me a kind kiss or
two, and smiled on me affectionately, in her own quiet,
gentle manner. The house was in a tumult, for Jaap returned with me, his wool well sprinkled with grey, and there
were lots of little Satanstoes (for such was his family name,
notwithstanding Mrs. Jaap called herself Miss Lilacsbush)
children and grandchildren to welcome him. To say the
truth, the house was not decently tranquil for the first
twenty-four hours.
At the end of that time, I ordered my horse to ride across
the country to Satanstoe, in order to visit my widowed
grandmother, who had resisted all attempts to persuade her
to give up the cares of housekeeping, and to come and live
at Lilacsbush. The general, for so everybody now called
my father, did not accompany me, having been at Satanstoe
a day or two before; but my sister did. As the roads had
been much neglected in the war, we went in the saddle,
Kate being one of the most spirited horsewomen of my acquaintance. By this time, Jaap had got to be privileged,
doing just such work as suited his fancy; or, it might be
better to say, was not of much use except in the desultory
employments that had so long been his principal pursuits;
and he was sent off an hour or two before we'started our
selves, to let Mrs. Littlepage, or his "ole-ole missus," as
the fellow always called my grandmother, know whom she
was to expect to dinner.
I have heard it said that there are portions of the world
in which people get to be so sophisticated, that the nearest
of kin cannot take such a liberty as this. The son will not
presume to take a plate at the table of the father without
observing the ceremony of asking, or of being asked! Hea.
ven be praised! we have not yet reached this pass in America. What parent, or grandparent, to the remotest living
generation, would receive a descendant with anything but a
smile, or a welcome, let -him come when and how he will.
If there be not room, or preparation, the deficiencies must
be made up in welcomes; or, when absolute impossibilities




THlE CHAINBEARER.                    35
interpose, if they are not overcome by means of a quick inll
vention, as most such "impossibilities" are, the truth is
frankly told, and the pleasure is deferred to a more fortunate moment. It is not my intention to throw a vulgar and
ignorant jibe into the face of an advanced civilization,'as is
too apt to be the propensity of ignorance and provincial
habits; for I well know that most of the usages of those
highly improved conditions of society are founded in reason,
and have their justification in a cultivated common sense;
but, after all, mother nature has her rights, and they are
not to be invaded too boldly, without bringing with the acts
themselves their merited punishments.
It was just nine, on a fine May morning, when Kate
Littlepage and myself rode through the outer gate of Lilacsbush, and issued upon the old, well-known, Kingsbridge
roa'd. Kings-bridge! That name still remains, as do those
of the counties of Kings and Queens, and Duchess, to say
nothing of quantities of Princes this and that, in other States;
and I hope they always may remain, as so many landmarks
in our history. These names are all that now remain among
us of the monarchy; and yet have I heard my father say a
hundred times, that when a young man, his reverence for
the British throne was second only to his reverence for the
church. In how short a time has this feeling been changed
throughout an entire nation; or, if not absolutely changed,
for some still continue to reverence monarchy, how widely
and irremediably has it been impaired! Such are the things
of the world, perishable and temporary in their very na.
tures; and they would do well to remember the truth, who
have much at stake in such changes.
We stopped at the door of the inn at Kingsbridge to say
good morning to old Mrs. Light, the landlady, who had now
kept the house half a century, and who had known us, and
our parents before us, from childhood. This loquacious
housewife had her good and bad points, but habit had given
her a sort of claim on our attentions, and I could not pass
her door without drawing the rein, if it were only for a mo.
ment. This was no sooner done, than the landlady, in
Derson, was on her threshold to greet us.
"Ay, I dreamt this, Mr. Mordaunt," the old woman ex.
claimed, the instant she saw me — " I dreamt this, no later




36            THE CH&INB E  RER.
thaii last week! It is nonsense to deny it; dreams do often
come true!"
" And what has been your dream this time, Mrs. Light?"
I asked, well knowing it was to come, and the sooner we
got it the better.
"1 dreamt the general had come home last fall, and ho
hlad come home! Now, the only idee I had to help out
that dream was a report that he was to be home that day;
but you know, Mr. Mordaunt, or major Littlepage they tell
me 1 ought now to call you-but, you know, Mr. Mordaunt,
how often reports turn out to be nothing. I count a report
as no great help to a dream. So last week, I dreamed you
would certainly be home this week; and here you are, sure
enough!"
"And all without any lying report to help yotr, my good
landlady?"'" Why, no great matter; a few flying rumours, perhaps;
but as I never believe them when awake, it's onreasonable
to suppose a body would believe'em when asleep. Yes,
Jaaf stopped a minute to water his horse this morning, and
I foresaw from that moment my dream would come to be
true, though I never exchanged a word with the nigger."
" That is a little remarkable, Mrs. Light, as I supposed
you always exchanged a few words with your guests."
" Not with the blacks, major; it is apt to make'em sassy.
Sassiness in a nigger is a thing I can't abide, and therefore
I keep'em all at a distance.  Well, the times that I have.
seen, major, since you went off to the wars! and the changes
we have had! Our clergyman don't pray any longer for
the king and queen-no more than if there wasn't sich people living!"
" Not directly, perhaps, but as part of the church of God,
I trust.'We all pray for congress, now."
"Well, I hope good will come out of it! I must say,
tnajor, that His Majesty's officers spent more freely, and
paid in better money, than the continental gentlemen. I've
had'em both here, by rijjiments, and that's the character I
mvst give'em, in honesty."
" You will remember they were richer, and had more
money thbn our people.  It is easy for the rich to appeat!il,-rnl.~'




TH I1E CII A I NBE ARER              37: Yes, I know that, sir, and you ought, and do know it,
too. The Littlepages are rich, and always have been, and
they are liberal too. Lord bless your smiling, pretty faces!
I knowed your family long afore you knowed it yourselves
I know'd old captain Hugh Roger, your great-grand'ther,
and the old general, your grand'ther, and now I know the
young general, and you i! Well, this will not be the last of
you, I dares to say, and there'1l be light hearts, and happy
ones among the Bayards, I'11 answer for it, ncw the wars
are over, and young major Littlepage has got back Y'
This terminated the discourse; for, by this time, I had
enough of it; and making my bo;v, Kate and I rode on.
Still, I could not but b. struck with the last speech of the
old woman, and most of all with the manner in which it was
uttered.  The name of Bayard was well known among us,
belonging to a family of which there were several branches
spread through the Middle States, as far south as Delaware;
but I did not happen to know a single individual of them all.
What, then, could my return have to do with the smiles or
frowns of any of the name of Bayard? It was natural
enough, after ruminating a minute or two on the subject,
that I should utter some of my ideas, on such a subject, to
my companion.
"What could the old woman mean, Kate," I abruptly
commenced, " by saying there would now be light hearts
and happy ones among the Bayards?"
" Poor Mrs. Light is a great gossip, Mordaunt, and it
may be questioned if she know her own meaning half the
time. All the Bayards we know  are the family at the
Hickories; and with them, you'have doubtless heard, my
mother has long been intimate."
"I have heard nothing about it, child. All I know is
that there is a place called the Hickories, up the river a few
miles, and that it belongs to some of the Bayards; but 1
never heard of any intimacy. On the contrary, I remember
to have heard that there was a lawsuit once, between my
grandfather Mordaunt and some old Bayard or other; and
I thought we were a sort of hereditary strangers."
"That is quite forgotten, and.my mother says it all arose,rr.m a mistake.  W'e are decided friends now."
4




538           THE  CHAINBEARER.
" I'm sure I am very glad to hear it; for, since it is
peace, let us have peace; though old enemies are not apt to
make very decided friends."
" But we never were-that is, my grandfather never was
an enemy of anybody; and the whole matter was amicably
settled just before he went to Europe, on his unfortunate
visit to Sir Harry Bulstrode. No-no-my mother will tell
you, Mordaunt, that the Littlepages and the Bayards now
regard each other as very decided friends."
Kate spoke with so much earnestness that I was disposed
to take a look at her. The face of the girl was flushed, and
I fancy she had a secret consciousness of the fact; for she
turned it from me as if gazing at some object in the opposite
direction, thereby preventing me from seeing much of it.
" I am very glad to learn all this," I answered, a little
drily. " As I am a Littlepage, it would have been awkward
not to have known it, had I accidentally met with one of
these Bayards. Does the peace include all of the name, or
only those of the Hickories?"
Kate laughed; then she was pleased to tell me that I was
to consider myself the friend of all of the name.
" And most especially of those of the name who dwell at
the Hickories?"
"How many, may there be of this especially peaceful
breed?-six, a dozen, or twenty?"
"Only four; so your task will make no very heavy de.
mand on your affections. Your heart has room, I trust, for
four more friends?"
"For a thousand, if I can find them, my dear.  I can
accept as many friends as you please, but have places for
none else. All the other niches are occupied."
" Occupied! -I hope that is not true, Mordaunt. One
place, at least, is vacant."
" True; I had forgotten a place must be reserved for the
orother you will, one day, give me. Well, name him, as
soon as you please; I shall be ready to love him, child."
"I may never make so heavy a draft on your affections.
Anneke has given you a brother already, and a very ex.
eellent one he is, andthat ought to satisfy a reasonable
man.,




THE CHAINBEARER.                     39
"Ay, so all you young women say between fifteen and
twenty, but you usually change your mind in the end. The
sooner you tell me who the youth is, therefore, the sooner I
shall begin to like him - is he one of these Bayards? - un
chevalier sans peur et sans reproche?"
Kate had a brilliant complexion, in common; but, as I
now turned my eyes towards her inquiringly, more in.mis.
chief, however, than with the expectation of learning any.
thing new, I saw the roses of her cheeks expand until they
covered her temples. The little beaver she wore, and which
became her amazingly, did not suffice to conceal these
blushes, and I now really began to suspect I had hit on a
vein that was sensitive. But, my sister was a girl of spirit,
and, though it was no difficult thing to make her change
colour, it was by no means easy to look her down.
" I trust your new brother, Mordaunt, should there ever
be such a person, will be a respectable man, if not absolutely without reproach," she answered. " But, if there be
a Tom Bayard, there;s also a Pris. Bayard, his sister."
" So — so -this is all news to me, indeed! As to Mr.
Thomas Bayard, I shall ask no questions, my interest in
him, if there is to be any, being altogether ex officio, as one
may say, and coming as a matter of course; but you will
excuse me if [F am a little curious on the subject of Miss
Priscilla Bayard, a lady, you will remember, I never saw."
My eye was on Kate the whole time, and I fancied she
looked gratified, though she still looked confused.
" Ask what yo will, brother-Priscilla Bayard can bear
a very close examination,"
" In the first place, then, did that old gossip allude to
AMiss Priscilla, by saying there would be. light hearts and
happy ones among the Bayards?"
"Nay, I cannot answer for poor Mrs. Light's conceits.
Put your questions in some other form."
" Is there much intimacy between the people of the'Bush
and those of the Hickories?"
"Great - we like them exceedingly; and I think they
like us."
" Does this intimacv extend to the young folk, or is if
confined to the old?"




40           THE  CHAINBEARER.
" That is somewhat personal," said Kate, laughing, " as
I happen to be the only' young folk' at the'Bush, to main.
tain the said intimacy. As there is nothing to be ashamed
of, however, but, on the contrary, much of which one may
be proud, I shall answer that it includes'all ages and both
sexes;' everybody but yourself, in a word."
". And you like old Mr. Bayard?"
" Amazingly."' And old Mrs. Bayard?"
"She is a very agreeable person, and an excellent wife
and mother."
"' And you love Pris. Bayard?"
" As the apple of mine eye," the girl answered, with em.
phasis.
" And you like Tom Bayard, her brother?"
" As much as is decent and proper for one young woman
to like the brother of another young woman, whom she admits that she loves as the apple of her eye."
Although it' was not easy, at least not easy for me, to
cause Kate Littlepage to hold her tongue, it was not easy
for her to cause the tell-tale blood always to remain sta.
tionary. She was surprisingly beautiful in her blushes, and
as much like what I had often fancied my dear mother might
hlave been in her best days as possible, at the very moment
she was making these replies, as steadily as if they gave her
no trouble.
" How is all this, then, connected with rejoicings among
the people of the Hickories, at my return? Are you the
betrothed of Tom Bayard, and have you been waiting for
my return to give him your hand?"
" I am not the betrothed of Tom Bayard, and have not
been waiting for your return to give him my hand," answered Kate, steadily.  "As for Mrs. Light's gossippings,
you cannot expect me to explain them. She gets her reports
from servants, and others of that class, and you know what
such reports are usually worth. But, as for my waiting for
your return, brother, in order to announce such an event,
you little'know how much I love you, if you suppose I would
do any such thing."
Kate said this with feeling, and I thanked her with my
eyes, but could not have spoken, and did not speak, until




TE C H A I N B E A  E.                41
we had ridden some distance. After this pause, I renewed
the discourse with some of its original spirit.
" On that subject, Katrinke, dear," I said, " I trust we
understand each other. Single, or married, you will ever
be very dear to me; and I own I should be hurt to be one
of the last to learn your engagement, whenever that may
happen.  And, now for this Pris. Bayard -do you expect
me to like her?"
" Do I! It would be one of the happiest moments of my
life, Mordaunt, when I could hear you acknowledge that
you love her!"
This was uttered with great animation, and in a way to
show that my sister was very much in earnest. I felt some
surprise when I put this feeling in connection with the land.
lady's remarks, and began to suspect there might be some.
thing behind the curtain worthy of my knowledge. In order
to make discoveries, however, it was necessary to pursue the
discourse.
"Of what age is Miss Bayard?" I demanded.
"She is two months my senior — very suitable, is it
not?"
"'I do not object to the difference, which will do very
well.  Is she accomplished?"
"Not very.  You know few of us girls who have been
educated during the revolution, can boast of much in that
way; though Priscilla is better than common."
"Than of her class, you mean, of course?"
" Certainly -better than most young ladies of our best
families."
"Is she amiable?"
"As Anneke, herself!"
This was saying a great deal, our eldest sister, as often
hlappens in families, being its paragon in the way of all the
virtues, and Anneke's temper being really serenity itself.
"You give her a high character, and one few girls could
sustain.  Is she sensible and well-informed?"
"Enough so as often to make me feel ashamed of myself.
She has an excellent mother, Mordaunt; and I have heard
you say, often, that the mother would have great influence
writh you in choosing a wife."
4*




42           T IE CIIAINBEARER.
"That must have been when I was very young, child,
and beibre I went to the army, where we look more at the
young than at the old women. But, why a wife?-Is it all
settled between the old people, that I am to propose to this
Priscilla Bayard, and are you a party to the scheme?"
Kate laughed with all her heart, but I fancied she looked
tonscious.
" You make no answer, young lady, and you must permit me to remind you that there is an express compact between you and me to treat each other frankly on all occa.
sions. This is one on which I especially desire to see the
conditions of the treaty rigidly enforced. Does any such
project exist?"
" Not as a project, discussed and planned-no-certainly
not. No, a thousand times, no. But, I shall run the risk
of frustrating one of my most cherished hopes, by saying,
honestly, that you could not gratify my dear mother, aunt
Mary, and myself, more than by falling in love with Pris.
Bayard. We all love her ourselves, and we wish you to be
of the party, knowing that your love would probably lead
to a connection we should all like, more than I can express.
There; you cannot complain of a want of frankness, for I
have heard it said, again and again, that the wishes of
friends, indiscreetly expressed, are very apt to set young
men against the very person it is desired to make them admnire."
" Quite likely to be true as a rule, though in my case no
effect, good or bad, will be produced. But, how do the
Bayards feel in this matter?"
"How should I know! —Of course, no allusion has ever
been made to any of the family on'the subjbet; and, as none
of them know you, it is im-that is, no allusion-I meancertainly not to more than one of them. I believe some
vague remarks may have been ventured to one-but-"
"By yourself, and to. your friend, Pris.?"
" Never"  said Kate, with emphasis. "Such a subject
could never be mentioned between us."
" Then it must have been between the old ladies - the
two mothers, probably?"
" I should think not. Mrs. Bayard is a woman of re.
serve, and mamma has an extreme sense of propriety, as you




THE CHAINBEARER.                     43
know yourself, that would not be likely to permit such a
thing."
"Would the general think of contracting me, when my
back was turned!"
" Not he — papa troubles himself very little about such
things. Ever since his return home, he has been courting
mamma over again, he tells us."
"Surely, aunt Mary has not found words for such an
allusion!"
" She, indeed! Poor, dear aunt Mary; it is little she
meddles with any one's concerns but her own. Do you
know, Mordaunt, that mamma has told me the whole of her
story lately, and the reason why she has refused so many
excellent offers. I dare say, if you ask her, she will tell
you."
" I know the whole story already, from the general, child.
But, if this matter has been alluded to, to one of the Bayards,
and neither my father, mother, nor aunt Mary, has made
the allusion on our side, and neither Mr. Bayard, his wife
nor daughter, has been the party to whom the allusion has
been made on the other, there remains only yourself and
Tom to hold the discourse. I beg you to explain this point
with your customary frankness."
Kate Littlepage's face was scarlet. She was fairly caught,
though I distrusted the truth from the moment she so stammered and hesitated in correcting her first statement.  I
will own I enjoyed the girl's confusion, it made her appear
so supremely lovely; and I was almost as proud of her,-as
I tenderly loved her. Dear, dear Kate; from her childhood
I had my own amusement with her, though I do not remem.
ber anything like a harsh expression, or an unkind feeling,
that has ever passed, or indeed existed, between us. A
finer study than the face of my sister offered for the next
minute, was never presented to the eye of man; and I en.
joyed it so much the more, from a strong conviction that,
while so deeply confused, she was not unhappy. Native
ingenuousness, maiden modesty, her habit of frank dealing
with me, and a wish to continue so to deal, were all strug.
gling together in her fine countenance, forming altogether
one of the most winning pictures of womanly feelings I had
ever witnessed. At length, the love of fair-dealing, and love




,44          THE  CHAINBEARER.
of me, prevailed over a factitious shame; the colour settled
back to those cheeks whence it had appeared to flash, as it
might be, remaining just enough heightened to be remarked,
and Kate looked towards me in a way that denoted all the
sisterly confidence and regard that she actually felt.
" I did not intend to be the one to communicate to you a
fact, Mordaunt, in which I know you will feel a deep in.
terest, for I had supposed my mother would save xne the
confusion of telling it to you; but, now, there is no choice
between resorting to equivocations that I do not like, and
using our old long-established frankness."'C The long and short of which, my dear sister, is to say
that you are engaged to Mr. Bayard!"
"No; not as strong as that, brother.  Mr. Bayard has
offered, and my answer is deferred until you have met him.
I would not engage myself, Mordaunt, until you approved
of my choice."
"I feel the compliment, Katrinke, and will be certain to
repay it, in kind. Depend on it, you shall know, in proper
season, when it is my wish to marry, and shall be heard."
" There is a difference between the claims of an elder
and an only brother, and of a mere girl, who ought to place
much dependence on the advice of friends, its making her
own selection,"
"You will not be a'mere girl' when that time comes,
but a married woman yourself, and competent to give good
counsel from your own experience.  To return to Tom,
however; he is the member of his family to whom the allusion was made?"
" He was, Mordaunt," answered Kate, in a low voice.
"And you were the person who made it?"
"Very true - we were talking of you, one day; and 1
expressed a strong hope that you would see Priscilla with
the eyes with which, I can assure you, all the rest of your
family see her. That was all."
"And that was quite enough, child, to cause Tom Bayard
to hang himself, if he were a lover of the true temper."
" Hang himself, brother! I am sure I do not understand
why?"
"Oh! merely at the palpable discouragement such a wish
would naturally convey to the brother of the young lady




THE CIAIN BEAR E R.                  45
since he must have seen you were wilillu to connect the
two fj;nilies by means other than giving him your own
hand."
Kate laughed; but, as she did not look much confused,
or at all alarmed, I was induced to believe that more important encouragement than could he afforded by means of
her wish of marrying me to her suitor's sister, had been
given master Tom, and that my disapproval of the gentle.
man would cause her more concern than she chose to avow.
We rode on, however, some little distance, without either's
offering to renew the discourse. At length, as became rpy
sex, I spoke.
" When am I to see this paragon young man, and paragon young woman, Kate, since see both I must?"
"Not paragon young man, brother; I am certain I have
called him by no such name! Tom Bayard is a goodfellow;
but I do not know he is, by any means, a paragon."
"He is a good looking fellow, in the bargain, I take it for
granted?"
" Not as much so as you are yourself, if that will gratify
your vanity."
"It ought to, coming from such a quarter. My question
is still unanswered, notwithstanding."
"To own the truth to you, Mordaunt, I expect we shall
find Tom Bayard and Pris at Satanstoe, to dine with my
grandmother. She wrote me word, a day or two since, that
both are asked, and that. she hoped both would accept."
"' The old lady is then in the plot, and intends to marry
me, will ye, nill ye? I had thought this visit altogether a
scheme of my own!"
Kate again laughed, and told me I might make my own
observations on that point, and judge for myself. As for
the visit, I had only accidentally favoured a project of other's.
The conversation now changed, and for several miles we
rode along, conversing of the scenes of the war, without
adverting to the Bayards, or to marriages.
We were within half a mile of the gate of the Neck, and
within a mile of the house, when we met Jaap returning to
Lilacsbush, and carrying some fruit to my mother, after
having discharged his commission of an avant courier.
From Kate's remark I had discovered we had been invited




X46          THE CITAINBEARER..
by letter to take this excursion, though the ceremony of
sending the negro across with llis message had been ob.
served for reasons that were not very natural under the
circumstances. I made no remark, however, determining
to see and judge for myself.
As a matter of course, we drew our reins, and stopped to
exchange a few words with the black.
"Well, Jaap, how did the Neck look, after so long an
absence?" I inquired.
"It look, sah, no means as well as ole Missus, who do
look capital, for sich a ladly! Dey do won'ers with'e Neck,
sah, if you just b'lieve all young nigger say. But, what
you t'ink, Masser Mordy, I hear at'e tavern, where I jist
stop, sah, to water ole Dick?"
" And to get a sup of cider for old Jaap" - hereupon the
negro laughed heartily, though he had the impudence neither to own nor to deny the imputation, his weakness in
favour of wring-jaw being a well-established failing —" Well,
what did you hear, while taking down the usual mug?"
"I on'y get half a mug dis time, sah; ole, ole Missus
nebber forgettin' to gib me jist as much as I want. Well,
sah, while ole Dick drink,'e new landlady, who come from
Connetick, you know, sah, she say to me,' Where you go,
ole colour' gentleumrn?' Dat war' civil, any howv."
" To which you answered  -"
" T answer her, sah, and say I go to Satanstoe, whar' 1
come from; long time'go."
"Whereupon, she made some observation or otherWell, what was it?-You keep Miss Littlepage waiting."
" Lor' bless her, sah'-it my business to wait on Miss
Katrinke, not her business to wait on me-Why you speak
so droll, now, Masser Mordy?"
" Never mind all that, Jaap - what did the new Connec.
ticut lady say, when you told her you were going to Satanstoe, the place where you had come from, a long time
aoo?"
"What she say, Masser Mordy, sah? - She say great
foolishness, and make me mad.' What you call by dat awful
name?' she say, making face like as if she see a spook.'You must mean Dibbleton,' she say -' dat'e way all'o




THE  CHIAINBEARER.                    47
people as is genteel call'e Neck!' Did you ebber hear'o
like, sah?"
" Oh! yes; I heard the like of it, as soon as I was bornh
the attempt to change the name of our old place having
ex.isted, now, these thirty years. Why, some people call
Hellgate, Hurlgate; after that, one may expect anything.
Do you not know, Jaap, a Yankee is never satisfied, unless
lie is cffecting changes?  One half his time, he is altering
the pronunciation of his own names, and the other half he
is altering ours.  Let him call the place what he will, you
and I will stick to Satanstoe."
"Dat we will, sah -gib'e debbil his due, sah; dat an
ole sayin'.  I'm sure anybody as has eyes, can see where
his toe hab turn up'e sile, and shape it he own way - no
dibble dere, sah."
Thus saying, Jaap rode on, my sister and myself doing
the same, pursuing the discourse that had thus accidentally
arisen among us.
"' Is it not odd, brother, that strangers should have this
itching to alter the name of my grandmother's place?" said
Kate, after we had parted from the black.  "It is a homely
name, certainly; but it has been used, now, a good deal
more than a century, and time, at least, should entitle it to
be let alone."
"Ay, my dear; but you are not yet aware of the desires, and longings, and efforts, and ambition of a' little
learning.' I have seen enough, in my short career, to know
there is a spirit up among us, that calls itself by the pretending title of the'spirit of improvement,' which is likely
to overturn more important things than the name of our
poor Neck. It is a spirit that assumes the respectable character of a love of liberty; and under that mask, it gives
play to malice, envy, covetousness, rapacity, and all the
lowest passions of our nature. Among other things, it takes
the provincial pretence of a mock-refinement, and flatters
an elegance of thought that is easiest attained by those who
have no perceptions of anything truly elevated, by substi.
tuting squeamishness and affectations for the simplicity of
nature, and a good tone of manners."




..48         TTHE CHAINBEAREBR,
CHAPTER IV.
Best. "Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinneOr.
Bene. "Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains."
Beat. "I took no more pains for these thanks, than
You take pains to thank me; if it had been painful,
I would not have come."
1Much Ado about Nothing.
IN the porch of the house, at Satanstoe, stood my dear
grandmother, and the notable Tom Bayard, to receive us.
The first glance at the latter told me that he was a " proper
man;" and by the second, I got the pleasing assurance that
he had no eye, just then, but for Kate. This was pleasant
to know, as I never could have been happy in consenting to
yield that dear girl to any but a man who appreciated her
worth, and fully admired her beauty. As to my dear " ole
ole" grandmother, who was not so very old neither, being
still under seventy, her reception of us was just what I had
ever found it; warm, affectionate, and gentle.  She called
my father, the, general, Corny, even when she spoke to him
in a room full of company; though, for that matter, I have
heard my mother, who was much more of a woman of the
world, having lived: great deal in society, do the same
thing, when she thought herself alone. I have read some
priggish book or other, written no doubt by one who knew
men only through pages like his own, decry such familiarities; but, I have generally'found those the happiest
families, and, at the bottom, the best toned, where it was
Jack, and Tom, aild Bob, and Dick, and Bess, and Di. As
for your Louisa Adelinas, and Robert Augustuses, and all
such elaborate respect, I frankly declare I have a contempt
for it. Those are the sort of people who would call Satanstoe, Dibbleton; Hellgate, Hurlgate; and themselves accomplished. Thank heaven, we had no such nonsense at
Lilacsbush, or at the Neck. My father, was Corny; my
mother, Anneke; Katrinke, Kate; and I was-Mordy, or
Mord; or, when there was no hurry, Mordaunt.




THE CHAINBEARER.                     49
Tom Bayard met my salutations frankly, and with a gen.
tlemanlike ease, though there was a slight colour on his
cheek which said to me, "I mean to get your sister.' Yet
I liked the fellow's manner. There was no grasping of the
hand, and coming forward to rush into an intimacy at the
first moment we met; but he returned my bow graciously,
and gracefully, and his smile as he did so seemed to invite
farther and better acquaintance.
Now, I have seen a man cross a whole room to shake
hands at an introduction with an utter stranger, and main.
tain a countenance the whole time as sombre as if he were
condoling with him on the loss of his wife. This habit of
shaking hands dolefully is growing among us, and is imported from some of our sister States; for, it is certainly not
a New York custom, except among intimates; and it is a
bad usage, in my opinion, as it destroys one of the best
means of graduating feelings, and is especially ungraceful
at an introduction. But, alas! there are so many such in.
novations, that one cannot pretend to predict where they are
to stop.  I never shook hands at an introduction, unless it
were under my own roof, and when I wished to denote a
decidedly hospitable feeling, until after I was forty.  It was
thought vulgar in my younger days, and I am not quite
certain it is not thought so now.
In the little old-fashioned drawing-room, as of late years
my good grandmother had been persuaded to call what was
once only the best parlour, we found Miss Priscilla Bayard,
who, for some reason that was unexplained, did not come
to the porch to meet her friend. She was in truth a charming girl, with fine dark eyes, glossy hair, a delicate and
lady-like form, and a grace of manner that denoted perfect
familiarity with the best comipny of the land. Kate and
Pris. embraced each other with a warmth and sincerity that
spoke in favour of each, and with perfect nature. An affected American girl, by the way, is very uncommon; and
nothing strikes me sooner, when I see my own countrywomen placed at the side of Europeans, than the difference in
this respect; the one seems so natural, while the other is
so artificial!
My own reception by Miss Bayard was gracious, though
fancied it was not entirely free from the consciousness of
5)




50            THE CHAIN BEARER.
having, on some idle occasion, heard her own name ind1.
mately connected with mine. Perhaps Kate, in their confi.
dential moments, may have said something to this effect;
or, I may have been mistaken.
My grandmother soon announced that the whole party
was to pass the night at Satanstoe. As we were accustomed
tc such plans, neither Kate nor myself raised the least objection, while the Bayards submitted to orders which I soon
discovered even they were not unused to, with perfect goodwill and submission. Thus brought together, in the familiarity of a quiet and small party, in a country house, we
made great progress in intimacy; and, by the time dinner
was over, or by four o'clock, I felt like an old acquaintance
with those who had so lately been strangers to me, even by
name.  As for Bayard and my sister, they were in the best
of humours from the start, and I felt satisfied their affair
was a settled thing, in their own minds; but, Miss Priscilla
was a little under constraint for an hour or two, like a person who felt a slight embarrassment. This wore off, however, and long before we left the table she had become
entirely herself; and a very charming self it was, I was
forced to admit. I say forced; for, spite of all I had said,
and'a certain amount of good sense I hope, it was impossible
to get rid of the distrust which accompanied the notion that
I was expected to fall in love with the young lady. My
poor grandmother contributed her share, too, to keep this
feeling alive. The manner in which she looked from one
to the other, and the satisfied smile that passed over her
countenance whenever she observed Pris. and myself conversing freely, betrayed to me completely that she was in
the secret, and had a hand in what I chose to regard as a
sort of plot.
I had heard that my grandmother had set her heart on
the marriage of my parents a year or two before matters
camre round, and that she always fancied she had been very
instrumental in forming a connection that had beer as happy
as her own. The recollection, or the fancy of th s success
most probably encouraged her to take a share in the present
scheme; and I have always supposed that she got us all
together on that occasion, in order to help the great project
long.




THE CHAINBEAREIt.                     51
A walk on the Neck was proposed in the cool of the
evening; fr' Satanstoe had many a pleasant poth, pretty
vista, and ibrpad view. Away we went, tben, the four of.
us, Kate leading the way, as the person most familiar with
the "capabilities."  We were soon on the shore of the
Sound, and at a point where a firm, wide beach of sand'had
been left by the receding waters, rocks fringing the inner
boundary, towards the main. Here one could walk without
confinement of any sort, there being room to go in pairs, or
all abreast, as we might choose. Miss Bayard seeming a
little coy, and manifesting a desire to keep near her friend,
I abandoned the intention of walking at her side, but fell
behind a little, and got into discourse with her brother.
Nor was I sorry to have this early opportunity of sounding
the party who was likely soon to become so nearly con.
nected with me. After a few minutes, the conversation
turned on the late revolution, and the manner in which it
was likely to influence the future fortunes of the country.
I knew that a portion of the family of my companion had
adhered to the crown, losing their estates by the act of confiscation; but I also knew that a portion did not, and I was
left to infer that Tom's branch belonged to the latter division of his name, inasmuch as his father was known to be
very'easy in his circumstances, if not absolutely rich. It
was not long, however, befbre I ascertained that my new
friend was a mild tory, and that he would have been better
pleased had the rights we had sought, and which he was
willing enough to admit had been violated, been secured
without a separation of the two countries.  As the Littlepages had actually been in arms against the crown, three
generations of them, too, at the same time, and the fact
could be no secret, I was pleased with the candour with
which Tom Bayard expressed his opinions on these points;
for it spoke well of the truth and general sincerity of his
character.
" Does it not strike you as a necessary consequence of
the distance bewen the two countries," I reniark-e —,in the
course of the conversation, " that a separation must, sooner
or later, have occurred? It is impossible tho' two countries
should long have common rulers when they are divided by
an ocean.  Admitting that our separation has been a little




N2 M           THE  CtI'AINBEARER.
premature, a circumstance I should deny in a particular
discussion, it is an evil that every hour has a tendency to
lessen."
" Separations in families are always painful, major Little.
page; when accompanied by dissensions,. doubly so."
"Quite true; yet they always happen.  If not in this
generation, in the next."
" I do think,' said Tom Bayard, looking at me a little
imploringly, "' that we might have got along with our difficulties without casting aside our allegiance to the king."
" Ay, that has been the stumbling-block with thousands;
and yet it is, in truth, the very weakest part of the transatlantic side of the question.  Of what avail is allegiance to
the king, if parliament use its power in a way to make
American interests subservient to those of England? A
great deal may be said, that is reasonable, in favour of
kingly power; that I am ready enough to allow; but very
little that renders one people-subject to another. This thing
called loyalty blinds men to facts, and substitutes a fancied
for a real power. The question has been, whether England,
by means of a parliament in which we have no representative, is to make laws for us or not; and not whether George
III. is to be our sovereign, or whether we are to establish'the'sovereignty of the people."*
* [This short dialogue is given in the text, because it is found in
Mr. Mordaunt Littlepage's manuscript, and not because the state of
feeling in this country to-day has any connection with the opinions
expressed. The American nation, as a whole, is now as  completely
emancipated from English political influence, as if the latter never
had an existence. The emancipation is too complete, indeed, the
efbect having brought with it a reaction that is, on many points,
running into error in a contrary direction; the third of our manu.
scripts having something to do with these excesses of opinion. But,
Mr. Mordaunt Littlepage appears to have some near glimmerings of
the principles which lay at the root of the American revolution,
though the principle itself does not appear to have been openly recog.
nised anywhere at the time. The king of England was originally
king of America, as he was king of Ireland, and king of Scotland.
It is. true, there was no American flag, the system excluding the
colonies from any power on the ocean; then, each colony existed as
independent of the others, except through their common allegiance.
The revolution of 1688 slowly brought parliament into the ascendant;
and, by' the time Georgo III. ascended the throne, that ascendancy
had got to be almost undisputed. Now, America had no proper con




THE CHAINBEARER.                        53
Bayard bowed, civilly enough, to my remark, and he,
changed the subject. Sufficient had been saia, however, to
satisfy me that there would be little political sympathy between us, let the family tie be drawn as close as it might.
The girls joined us before we had got altogether into ano.
ther vein of discourse, and I was a little chagrined at finding'that Kate entered rather more into her admirer's views of
such subjects than comported with the true feelings, as I
fancied, of a Littlepage, after all that had passed. Still, as I
should have liked the woman I loved to agree with me in
opinion as much as possible in everything, I was not disposed to judge harshly of my sister on that account. On
the other hand, to my surprise, I found Miss Priscilla a
zealous, and, to say the truth, a somewhat blind patriot;
condemning England, the king, and the efforts of parliament with a warmth that was only equal to that with which
she defended every thing, act, measure, principle or policy,
that was purely American.
I cannot say I had as much tolerance for the patriotism
of Miss Bayard as I had for the petit treason of my sister.
It seemed natural enough that Kate should begin to look at
things of this nature with the eyes of the man she had made
up her mind to marry; but it looked far more like management in her friend, who belonged to a tory family, to volunteer so freely the sentiments of one she could not yet love,
inasmuch as until that day she had never even seen him.
"Is it not so, major Littlepage," cried this lovely creature, for very lovely she was, beyond all dispute; and femi.
nine, and delicate, and lady-like, and all I could have wished
heir, had she only been a little less of a whig, and a good
deal more of a tory; her eyes sparkling and flashing, at the
same time, as if she felt all she was saying from the very
bottom of her heart — " Is it not so, major Littlepage?America has come out of this war with imperishable glory;
and her history, a thousand years hence, will be the wonder
and admiration of all who read it!"
nection with parliament, which, in that day, represented England
and Wales only; and this was< state of things which made one
country dependent on the other, a subserviency of interests that clearly
could last only so long as the party governed was too weak to take
care of itself.]
5*




THE CHAINBEARER.
"That will somewhat depend on what her history may
prove to be, between that day and this. The early history
of all great nations fills us with admiration and interest,
while mightier deeds effected by an insignificant people are
usually forgotten."
" Still, this revolution has been one of which any nation
might have been proud!"
As it would not have been proper to deny this, I bowed
and strayed a little from the rest of the party, under the
pretence of looking for shells. My sister soon joined me,
when the following short conversation'passed between us.
"You find Pris. Bayard a staunch whig, major Little.
page," commenced my warm-hearted sister.
" Very much so; but I had supposed the Bayards excessively neutral, if not absolutely the other way."
"' Oh! that is true enough of most of them, but not with
Pris., who has long been a decided whig. There is Tom,
now, rather moderate in his opinions, while the father and
mother are what you call excessively neutral; but, Pris.
has been a whig almost as long as I have known her."
" Almost as long! She was, then, a tory once?"' Hardly; though certainly her opinions have undergone
a very gradual change.  We are both young, you will re.
member; and girls at their first coming out do very little
of their own thinking.  For the last three years, certainly,
or since she was seventeen, Pris. has been getting to be
more and more of a whig, and less and less of a tory. Do
you not find her decidedly handsome, Mordaunt?"
4' Very decidedly so, and very winning in all that belongs to her sex -gentle, feminine, lady-like, lovely, and
withal a whig."
"I knew you would admire her!" cried Kate, in triumph.
"I shall live to.see my dearest wish accomplished!"
" I make no doubt you will, child; though it will not be
by the marriage of a Mr. Littlepage to a Miss Bayard."
I got a laugh and a blush for this sally, but no sign of
submission. On the contrary, the positive girl shook her
head, until her rich curls were all in motion, and she laugh.
ed none the less. We immed'5ately joined our companions,
and by one of those crossings over and figurings in, that
sre so familiar to the young of the two sexes, we were soon




THE CHIAINBEARER.                     55
walking along the sands again, Tom at Kate's side, and I
at that of Priscilla Bayard's.  What the other two talked
about I never knew, though I fancy one might guess; but, the
young lady with me pursued the subject of the revolution.
" You have probably been a little surprised, major Littlepage," she commenced, "to hear me express myself so
warmly in favour of this country, as some of the branches
of my fiamily have been treated harshly by the new government?"
" You allude to the confiscations? I never justified them,
and wish they had not been made; for they fall heaviest on
those who were quite inoffensive, while most of our active
enemies have escaped. Still, it is no more than is usual in
civil wars, and what would surely have befallen us, had it
been our fortune to be the losing party."
" So I have been told; but, as no loss has fallen on any
who are very near to me, my public virtue has beer able to
resist private feeling. My brother, as you -may have seen,
is less of an American than I am myself."
" I have supposed he is one of the' extremely neutral;'
and they, I have thought, always incline a little in favour
of the losing party."
" I hope, however, his political bias, which is very honest,
though very much, in error, will not materially affect him
in your good opinion. Too much depends on that, for me
not to be anxious on the subject; and, being the only decided whig in the family, I have thought I would venture to
speak in behalf of a very dearly beloved brother."' Well,' I said to myself,'this is being sufficiently managing; but I am not quite so unpractised as to'be the dupe
of an artifice so little concealed! The deuce is in the girl;
yet she seems in earnest, looks at me with the good faith
and simplicity of a sister who feels even more than she expresses, and is certainly one of the loveliest-creatures I ever
laid eyes on! I must not let her see how much I am on
my guard, but must meet management with management.
it will be singular, indeed, if I, who have commanded a'~ompany of continentals with some credit, cannot get along
with a girl of twenty, though she were even handsomer,
and looked still more innocent than this Pris. Bayard, which
would be no easy matter, by the way.'




56           THE CHAINBEARER.
The reader will understand this was what I said to mnay
self, and it was soon uttered, for one talks surprisingly fast
to hi-mself; but, that which I said to my fair companion,
after a moment's hesitation, was very different in language
and import.
"I do not understand in what way Mr. Bayard can be
affected by my opinion, let it be for or against him," I an.
swered, with just as much innocency'of expression, according to my notion of the matter, as the young lady herself
had thrown into her own pretty countenance, thereby doing
myself infinite credit, in my own conceit; " though I am
far from judging any man severely, because he happens to
differ from me in his judgment of public things. The question was one of great delicacy, and the most honest men
have differed the widest on its merits."
"' Yoq do not know how glad I am to hear you say this,
Mr. Littlepage," returned my companion, with one of the
sweetest smiles -woman ever bestowed on man. " It will
make Tom completely happy, for I know he has been sadly
afraid of you, on this very point."
I did not answer instantly; for, I believe, I was watching
the traces of that bewitching smile, and speculating against
its influence with the pertinacity of a man who was determined not to be taken in. That smile haunted me for a
week, and it was a long time before I fully comprehended
it. I decided, however, to come to the point at once, as respects Bayard and my sister, and not be beating the bush
with indirect allusions.
" In what manner can my opinion influence your brother,
Miss Bayarl?" I asked, as soon as I was ready to say anything. " To prevent misconceptions, let me beg of you to
be a little more explicit."
" You can hardly be ignorant of my meaning, I should
think! " answered Priscilla, with a little surprise.  "One
has only to look dt the couple before us, to comprehend
how your opinion of the gentleman might have an influence
on himself, at least."
"The same might be said of us, Miss Bayard, so far as
my inexperienced eye can tell. They are a young couple,
walking together; the gentleman appearing to admire the
lady, I will confess; and we are a young couple walking




THIIE CHAINBEARER.                    57
together, the gentleman appearing to admire the lady, or he
does no credit to his taste or sensibility."' There,' said I to myself, again,' that is giving her q lite
as good as I receive; let me see how you take tAat.'
Pris. took it very well; laughing, and blushing just enough
to make her appear the loveliest creature I had ever laid
eyes on. She shook- her head, very much as my sister had
done not long before, and disclaimed the analogy, first in
her manner, and next with her tongue.
" The cases are very different, sir," she answered. "We
are strangers to each 6ther, while Tom Bayard and Kate
Littlepage are acquaintances of years' standing.  We do
not love each other in the least; not a bit, though we are
inclined to think very well of each other, on account of the
interest we take in the couple before us, and because I arn
the intimate friend of your only sister, and because you are
the only brother of my intimate friend.  There, however,"
and she now spoke with emphasis, "our interest ceases,
never to be increased beyond a friendly regard, that I trust
will grow up out of our respective merits, and respective
discernment.  It is very, very different with the couple before us;" here, again, the flexible girl spoke with extreme
feeling; every tone and cadency of her voice denoting lively
sensibility.  "'They have been long attached, not admirers
of each other, as you call- it, major Littlepage, but attached:
and your opinion of my brother, just at this moment, is of'
the last importance to him. I hope I have, at last, made
myself understood?"
" Perfectly; and I intend to be just as explicit.  In the
first place, I enter a solemn protest against all that you have
said about the' other couple,' with the exception of the interest we each feel in the brother, or sister.  Next, Iproclaim Kate Littlepage to be her own mistress, so far as her
brother Mordaunt is concerned; and lastly, I announce that
I see or know nothing in the character, connections, fortune,
person, or position of her suitor, Thomas Bayard, of the
Hickories, Esquire, that is in the least below her pretensions
or merits.  I hope that is sufficiently satisfactory?"
"Entirely so; and from the bottom of my heart I thank
you for it. I will own I have had some little apprehensions
nn the subject of Tom's political opinions, bit, those re.




58            THE CHAINBEARER
moved, nothing else can remain to create the smallest UtL
easiness."
" How is it possible that any of you could consider my
notions of so much importance, when Kate has a father, a
mother, and a grandmother living, all of whom, as I under.
stand things, approve of her choice?"
"Ah! Mr. Littlepage, you are not conscious of your importance in your own family, I see. I know it better thau
you appear to know it yourself. Father, mother, grand.
mother and sister, all think and speak of Mordaunt, alike.
To hear the general converse of the war, you would sup.
pose that he had commanded a company, and captain Littlepage the regiment. Mrs. Littlepage defers to Mordaunt's
taste, and Mordaunt's opinions, and Mordaunt's judgment,
even in housekeeping and hem-stitching. Kate is for ever
saying' my brother says this,''my brother writes that,'' my brother does t'other;' and, as for the old lady here, at
the' Toe,' she would hardly think her peaches and cherries
could ripen, unless Mordaunt Littlepage, the son of her son
Corny Littlepage -by no accident does she ever call him' general' - were on the face of the earth, to create an eter.
nal sunshine!"
Was there ever a girl like this! That speech was made
too, in the quietest, most gentle, lady-like manner, possible.
That the young lady had spirit and humour enough, was
very apparent; and for a' moment I doubted whether both
were not accompanied by the most perfect simplicity of
character, and the most perfect good faith.  Subsequent re.
marks and occurrences, however, soon revived all my
original distrusts.
"This is a vivid picture of family weaknesses, that you
haye so graphically drawn, Miss Bayard," I answered;
" and I shall not easily forget it. What renders it the more
lively and pointed, and the more likely to be relished by the
world, is the fact that Mordaunt so little deserves the extreme pqrtiality of the friends you have mentioned."
"' The last feature forms no part of my picture, major
Littlepage, and I disown it.  As for the world, it will never
know anything about it. You and I are not the world,-nor
are we at all likely ever to be the world to each other; I
wish you particularly to understand that, which is the rea.




TILE CIIAINBEARERI.                   59
son I am so frank with you, on so short an acquaintance.
I tell you, your opinion is of the last importance to Tom;
as your sister would not marry him, did she believe yoell
thought, in the least, ill of him."
"And she would, did I think well of him?"' That is a question a lady must answer for herself.
And, now, we will say no more on the subject; for my
mind is easy since I find you entertain.no political hostility
to Tornm."
"Men are much less apt to entertain such feelings, I
fancy, after they have fairly fought out a quarrel, than when
they only talk over its heads.  Besides, the winning party
is commonly the least rancorous, and success will make us
whigs forgiving. I give you my honour, no objection will
be raised against your brother, by me, on account of his
opinions of the revolution.  My Flear mother, herself, has
been half a tory the whole war; and Kate, I find, has imbibed all her charity."
A singular, and, as I thought, a painful smile, crossed the
sweet face of Priscilla Bayard, as I made this remark; but
she did not answer it. It seemed to me she was now de.
sirous of quitting the subject entirely, and I immediately led
the discourse to other things.
Kate and I remained at Satanstoe several days, and Tom
Bayard was a daily visitor; the distance between the Neck
and the Hickories being no great matter.  I saw the young
lady twice during that interval; once, by riding over to her
father's residence with that express object; and once when
she came across on horseback to see her friend. I confess
I was.never more at a loss to understand a character than I
was that of this young woman. She was either profoundly
managing, or as innocent and simple as a child. It was
easy to see that her brother, my sister, my grandmother,
and, as I fancied, the parents of the young lady herself,
were anxious that I should be on as good terms as possible
with Pris.. as they all called her; though I could not fathom
her own feelings on the subject. It would have been unnatural not to have loved to gaze on her exceeding beauty, or
not-to have admired her extremely graceful and feminine
manner, which was precisely all that one could wish it to
be in the way of ease and self-possession, without being in




M}0' TH E CHIAINBEARER.
the least free or fobrward; and I did gaze on the one, and
admire the other, at the very inoment I wias most disposed
to distrust her sincerity, and to believe her nature the very
perfection of art. There were times when I was disposed
to fancy this Pris. Bayard as profound and skilful an actoi
as one of her sex, years, and condition. in life could well
become, without falling altogether; and there were moments, too, when she seemed to be instinct with all the sensitive and best qualities of her sex.
It is scarcely necessary to say I remained heart-whole,
under such circumstances, notwithstanding  the obvioui
wishes of. my friends, and the young lady's great advantages! X" man no more falls blindly in love when he distrusts anything amis/Vthan he sees anything amiss when
he-is blindly in lovef It has often been a matter of surprise
to me, how often and how completely the wisest of the
earthly races conspire to deceive themselves. When suspicions are once excited, testimony is not needed; condemnation following much as a logical induction, though founded
on nothing better than plausible distrusts; while, on the
other hand, where confidence exists, testimony is only too,iapt to be disregarded. Women, in particular, are peculiarly
apt to follow the bias of their antections, rather than of their
reasons, in all cases connected with guilt. They are hard
tb be convinced of the unworthiness of those who belong to
them, through the affections, because the affections are
usually stronger with them  than their reasoning powers.
How they cling to their priests, for instance, when the cooler
heads and greater experience of men condemn, and that
merely because their imaginations choose to adorn the
offenders with the graces of that religion which they venerate, and on which they rely! \i He is a shrewd man who can
draw the line between the real and the false in these matters; but he is truly a weak one whp disregards evidence
when evidence is complete and clear./That we all have our
sins and our failings is true, but there are certain marks of
unworthiness which are infallible, and which ought never
o be disregarded, since they denote the existence of the
want of principle that taints a whole character.




THE  C H A IN BEARER.                 61
CHAPTER V.
M He were an excellent man, that were made just in the mid-way be,
tween him and Benedick: the one is too like an image, and says
nothing; and the other, too like my lady's eldest son, evermore
tattling."                            Beatrice.
THE very day my sister and I left Satanstoe, there was
an interesting interview between my grandmother and myself; that it may be well to relate. It took place in the cool
of the morning, before breakfast, indeed, and previously to
the appearance of any of' the rest of the party; for Tom
Bayard and his sister had again ridden across the country
to pass the night, and see us off. My grandmother had requested me to meet her thus early, in a sort of little piazza,
that modern improvements had annexed to one end of the
old buildings, and in which we both appeared accordingly
with the utmost punctuality.  I saw by a certain sort of
importance that my good grandmother wore in her countenance, that she had weighty matters on her mind, and took
the chair she had set for me with some little curiosity to
learn what wvas to follow. The chairs were placed side by
side, or nearly so, but looking different ways, and so close
together that, when seated, we were quite face to face. My
grandmother had on her spectacles, and she gazed wistfully
through them at me, parting the curls on my forehead, as
had been her wont when I was a boy. I saw tears rolling
out from behind the glasses, and felt apprehensive I might
have said or done something to have wounded the spirit of
that excellent and indulgent parent.
"For heaven's sake, grandmother, what can this mean?'"
I cried. " Have I done anything amiss?"
"'; No, my child, no; but much to the contrary. You
are, and ever have been, a good and dutifiul son, not only
to your real parents, but to me. But your name ought to
have been Hugh - that I will maintain, long as I live.  I
a




(62          TIHE  CHAINBEARER..old vour fither as much whefn you were born; but he was
Mordaunt-mad then, as, indeed,'he has remained pretty
much ever since.  Not that Mordaunt is not a good name,
and a respectable name, and they say it is a noble name in
England; but it is. a family name, and family names are
not fit for christian names, at the best. Hugh should have
heen your name, if I could have had my way; and, if not'
Hugh, Corny. Well, it is too late for that now, as Mordaunt
you are, and Mordaunt you must live and die. Did any one
ever tell you, my child, how very, very like you are to your
honoured grandfather?"
"My mother, frequently-I have seen the tears start into
her eyes as she gazed at me, and she has often told me my
family name ought to have been Mordaunt, so much do I
resemble her father."
"Her father!- Well, Anneke does get some of the
strangest conceits into her head! A better woman, or a
dearer, does not breathe —I love your mother, my child,
quite as much as if she had been born my own daughter;
but I must say she does get some of the strangest notions
into her head that mortal ever imagined. You like Herman
Mordaunt! You are the very image of your grandfather
Littlepage, and no more like Herman Mordaunt than you
are like the king!"
The revolution was then, and is now still too recent to
prevent these constant allusions to royalty, notwithstanding
my grandfather had been as warm a whig as there was in
the colonies, from the commencement of the struggle. As
for the resemblance spoken of, I have always understood I
was a mingled repetition of the two families, as so often
happens, a circumstance that enables my different relatives
to trace such resemblances as best suit their respective
fancies. This was quite convenient, and may have been a
reason, in addition to the fact of my being an only son, that
I was so great a favourite with the females of my family.
My dear old grandmother, who was then in her sixty-ninth
year, was so persuaded of my likeness to her late husband,
the "' old general," as he was now called, that she would not
proceed in her communications until she had wiped her eyes,
and gratified her affections with another long and wistful
gaze.




THE CHAINBEARER.                     63
" Oh! those eyes!" she murmured-" and that forehead!-'l'he mouth too, and the nose, to say nothing of the
smile, which is as much alike as one pea is like another!"
This left very little for the Mordaunts, it must be owned;
the chin and ears being pretty much all that were not claimed for the direct line. It is true, my eyes were blue, and
the " old general's" had been as black as coals; my nose
was Grecian, and his a most obtrusive Roman; and, as foi
the mouth, I can only say mine was as like that of my mo.
ther's as a man's could well be like a woman's. The last,
I had heard my father say, a thousand times. But, no
matter; age, and affection, and the longings of the parent,
caused my grandmother to see things differently.
" Well, Mordaunt," the good old lady at length continued,
"how. do you like this choice of your sister Kate's? Mr.
Bayard is a charming young man, is he not?"
" Is it then a choice, grandmother? Has Kate actually
made up her mind?"' Pshaw!" answered my grandmother, smiling as archly
as if she were sixteen herself-" that was done long agoand papa approved, and mamma was anxious, and I consented, and sister Anneke was delighted, and everything
was as smooth as the beach at the end of the Neck, but
waiting for your approbation.' It would not be right, grandmother, for me to engage myself, while Mordaunt is away,
and without his even knowing the gentleman; so I will not
answer until I get his approbation too,' said Kate. That
was very pretty in her, was it not, my child?  All your
father's children have a sense of propriety!"
" Indeed it was, and I shall not forget it soon. But, suppose I had disapproved, what would have followed, grand.
mother?"
"You should never ask unpleasant questions, saucy
fellow; though I dare to say Kate would, at least, have
asked Mr. Bayard to wait until you had changed your mind.
Giving him up altogether would be out of the question, and
unreasonable; but she might have waited a few months or
so, until you. changed your mind; and I would have advised her so to do. But, all that is unnecessary, as matters
are; for you have expressed your approbation, and Kate is
perfectly happy.  The last letter fiorn Lilacsbush, which




64            THE CHAINBEARER.
Jaap brought, gives the formal consent of your dear patents
and what parents you have, my child!- so.Iate wrote
an acceptance yesterday, and it was as prettily expressed a
note as I have seen in many a day.  Your own mother
cculd not have done it better in her young days; and Anncke Mordaunt worded a note as genteelly as any young
woman I ever knew."
"I am glad everything has gone right, and am sure no
one can wish the young couple more happiness than I do
myself. Kate is a dear, good girl, and I love her as much
as a brother can love a sister."
"Is she not? and as thorough a Littlepage as ever was
born! I do hope she will be happy.  All the marriages in
our family have proved so hitherto, and it would be strange
if this should turn out differently.  Wel, now, Mordaunt,
when Kate is married, you will be the only one left."'" That is true, grandmother; and you must be glad to find
there will be one of us left to come and see you, without
bringing nurses and children at his heels."
" I! -I glad of anything of the sort! No, indeed, my
child; I should be sorry enough did I think, for a moment,
you would not marry as soon as is prudent, now the war is
over. As for children, I dote on them; and I have ever
thought it a misfortune that the Littlepages have had so
few, especially sons.  Your grandfather, my general, was
an only son; your father was an only son; and you are an
only son; that is, so far as coming to men's estates are, or
were concerned. No, Mordaunt, my child, it is the warmest
wish of my heart to see you properly married, and to hold
the Littlepages of the next generation in my arms. Two
of you I have had there already,. and I shall have lived the
life of the blessed to be able to hold the third."
"My dear, good grandmother! - What am I to under
stand by all this?"
"That I wish you -to marry, my child, now that the wa
is ended; that your father wishes you to marry; that your
mother wishes you to marry; and that your sister wishes
you to marry."
" And all of you wish me to marry the same person? Is
it not so?"




THE CHAINBEARER.                     65
My grandmother smiled, but lie fidg;eted; fancying, as
I suspected, that she had b:-en P uihing matteIs a little too
fast. It was not easy, however, fbr one of her truth and
simplicity of character to recede anter having gone so far;
and she wisely determined to have no reserves with me on
the subject.
" T believe you are right, Mordaunt," she answered, after
a short pause. " VWe do all wish you to fall in love as soon
as you can; to propose as soon as you are in love; and to
marry Priscilla Bayard, the instant she will consent to have
yOU."
" This is honest, and like yourself, my dear grandmo
ther; and now we both know what is intended, and can
speak plainly. In the first place, do you not think one con
nection of this sort, between families, quite sufficient? If
Kate marry the brother, may I not be excused for overlook
ing the attractions of the sister?"
" Priscilla Bayard is one of the loveliest girls in York
Colony, Mordaunt Littlepage!"
" We call this part of the worrd York State, now, dearest
grandmother. I am far from denyingr the truth of what you
say;-Priscilla Bayard is very lovely."
"I do not know what more you can wish, than to get
such a girl."
" I shall not say that the time will not come when I may
be glad to obtain the consent of the young lady to become
my wife; but that time has not yet arrived. Then, I ques.
tion the expediency, when friends greatly desire any particular match, of saying too much about it."
My poor grandmother looked quite astounded, like one
who felt she had innocently done mischief; and she sat
gazing fondly at me,.with the expression of a penitent child
painted in her venerated countenance.
"-Nevertheless, Mordaunt, I had a great share in bringing about the union between your bwn dear parents," she
at length answered;   and that has been one of the happiest
marriages I have ever known!"
I had often heard allusions of this nature, and I had several times observed the quiet smile of my mother, as she
listened to them, smiles that seemed to contradict the opinion
6*




66            THE CHAINBEARER.
to which my grandmother's mistaken notions of her own
influence had given birth. On one occasion (I was still
quite a boy), I remember to have asked my mother how the
fact was, when the answer was, "I married your father
through the influence of a butcher's boy;" a reply that had
some reference to a very early passage in the lives of my
parents. But, I well know that neither Cornelius Littlepage,,
nor Anneke Mordaunt, was a person to be coaxed into
matrimony; and I resolved on the spot, their only son
should manifest an equal independence. I might have answered my grandmother to -this effect, and in language
stronger than was my practice when addressing that reverend parent, had not the two girls appeared on the piazza
at that moment, and broke up our private conference.
Sooth to say, Priscilla Bayard came forth upon me, that
morning, with something like the radiance of the rising sun.
Both the girls had that fresh, attractive look, that is apt to
belong to the toilettes of early risers of their sex, and which
probably renders them handsomer at that hour, than at any
other part of the day. M! own sister was a very charming
girl, as any one would allow; but her friend was decidedly
beautiful. I confess I found it a little difficult not to give in
on the spot, and to whisper my anxious grandmother that I
would pay proper attention to the young lady, and make an
dffer at the suitable time, as she advanced towards us, exchanging the morning salutations, with just enough of ease
to render her perfectly graceful, and yet with a modesty
and retenue that were infinitely winning.
" Mordaunt is about to quit me, for the whole summer,
Miss Bayard," said'my grandmother, who would be doing
while there was a chance; " and.I have had him out here,
to converse a little together, before we part.  Kate I shall
see often during the pleasant season, I trust; but this is to
be the last of Mordaunt, until the cold weather return."
" Is Mr. Littlepage geing to travel?" inquired the young
lady, with just as much interest as good breeding demanded,
and not a particle more; " for Lilacsbush is not so distant
but he might ride over once a week, at least, to inquire
how you do."
" Oh! iEe is going a great, great distance, and to a par
Df'the world I dread to think of!"




THE  CHAINBEARER.                       67
Miss Bayard now looked really startled, and a good deal
astonished, questioning me with her very fine eyes, though
she said nothing with her tongue.
"It is time I explain, lest Miss Bayard fancy my destination to be China; whither all Americannj.dyeutrmers now
seem bet.Jn going.  I shall not quit the State, however."
" As the State is of some size," answered Priscilla, "a
grandmother may think an only grandson far enough distant who is at the other end of it.  Perhaps you visit Nia.
gara, major Litllepage? I have heard of several gentlemen
who have such an excursion in view; and glad enough shall
I be when the roads are in such a state that ladies can be
of the party."
"And you would have the spirit to be of such a party?"
asked'my grandmother, seizing with avidity everything, even
to the least, that might encourage her wishes.
Pris. Bayard seemed fearful she had gone too far; for
she blushed very charmingly, ere she answered.
"I am  not aware, Mrs. Littlepage, that any very great
spirit would be required," she said.  " It is true, there are
Indians by the way, and a vast wilderness..between us and
the end of the journey; but ladies have made it, I have been
told, and in safety. One hears such wonders of the Falls,
that it would be a strong temptation to hazard something,
in order to see them."
I look back with wonder over the short interval of time
that interposes, when I remember how we used to regard
the Falls of Niagara in my youth.  A voyage to Europe
seemed little less hazardous and serious; and voyages to
Europe were not then what they are to-day.*
* The reade'r, of course, will always recollect that this manuscript
was written nearly, if not quite forty years ago. Even then, a journey
to Niagara was a serious undertaking. Now (1845), it can be made
by steam the entire distance from the town of New York, or between
450 and 500 miles,.in less than thirty-six hours! This is one of the
prodigies of a giant in his infancy, and should render foreign politinians cautious how they talk of regulating the boundaries of this
republic, for its citizens. If the past can be any pledge for the future
in American history, they are now living who will see steam extended
across the continent, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and the stars
and stripes flying at each end! More than a thousand of the four
thousand miles necessary to achieve such an object have been over,




68             THE  CHAINBEARER.
" Nothing would make me happier," I cri, d, gallantly.
to my poor grandmother's ill-concealed delight, " than to be
the protector of Miss Bayard on the excursion."
" You really think, then, of undertaking the journey
major Littlepage?"
"No: this season, though I hold the hope in reserve, fol
some future day. My destination, at present, is Ravensnest
a place less than fifty miles distant from Albany."
"Ravensnest! —That is a pretty name, though one might,ike it better, I think, Kate, were it Dovesnest, or Robinsnest,
or Wrensnest. What is this Ravensnest, Mr. Littlepage?"
"An estate of a good deal of land, but of np great value
as yet, whatever it may turn out to be -hereafteri,1iath-was
once the property of my grandfather Mordiaunit, and which
he bequeathed to me. My father and colonel Direck have
also an estate adjoining it, which is called Mooseridge.  I
am to visit both; as the owner of one, and as the agent of
the owners of the other.  It is time the several properties
were looked t6, the late troubles having almost thrown them
out of our view."
" They tell me that a great deal is doing in the way of
settling the wild lands of the interior this summer," continued Priscilla, with an interest in the subject that was
much more obvious to me, than explicable -" and that a
great many settlers are pouring in upon us from the adjoining New England States.  I have heard, also, that the vast
possessions of the Patroon are fast filling up, and that the
heart of the State will soon be peopled."
"' You are more conversant' with such matters than it is
usual to find young ladies, lViss Bayard.  I ascribe this to
your being so good a whig, which is but, another name for a
patriot."
Pris. blushed again, and she now'seemed disposed to be
silent; though I could still detect an interest in the subject
come; and that which remains to be done, comparing ends with
means, is not one-half as great an effort as that which has been done.
this may be a proper place to add, that nothing has so much strength.
ened the present administration, in its annexation projects, as the
threatened interference of European governments in the affairs of this
Continent. At some critical moment, when it is least wanted, America
may pay them in kind. - EDITOR.




THE  CHAINB EARR.                    69
that to me was quite unaccountable.  Kate probably saw
this too, for she continued to converse about my journey,
even after her friend had drawn a little on one side; and
that, too, in a manner which seemed to sav she was done.
" Who is the queer old man of whom I have heard you
speak, Mordaunt," my sister demanded, "and with whom
you have lately had some correspondence about these
lands?"
" I suppose you mean my former comrade, the' Chain.
bearer.' There was a captain in our regiment of the name
of Coejemans, who bears this appellation, and who has contracted to get the necessary surveys made, though he fills
the humble post of a' Chainbearer' himself, not being'competent to make the calculations."
" How can a mere Chainbearer contract for a full survey?" asked Tom Bayard, who had.joined the party, and
had. been listening to the discourse. "The Chainbearers,
in general, are but common labourers, and are perfectly
irresponsible."
" That is true, as a rule; but my old friend forms an
exception. He set out for a surveyor, but having no head
for sines, and co-sines, and tangents, he was obliged to
lower his pretensions to the humbler duty he now discharges.  Still, he has long contracted for jobs of this nature, and gets as much as he can do, hiring surveyors
himself, the owners of property having the utmost confidence in his measurements. Let me tell you, the man who
carries chain is not the least important member of a surveying party in the woods.  Old Andries is as honest as
noon-day, and everybody has faith in him."
"His true name is Coejemans, I thick you said, major
Iittlepage?" asked Priscilla, as it struck me assuming an
air of indifference.
" It is, Andries Coejemans; and his family is reputable,
if not absolutely of a high caste. But the old man is sc inveterate a woodsman, that nothing but patriotism, and his
bvhig. propensities, could have drawn him out into the open
country.  After serving most gallantly through the whole
war, he has gone back to his chains; and many is the joke
he has about remaining still in chains, after fighting so long
and so often in the cause of liberty."




f(t         TTHE CIIAINT.I E A R E R.
Priscilla appeared to hesitate - I thought her colour iL I-'creased a little - then she aslked the question that was ad,.
parently uppermost in her thoughts, with surprising steady.
ness.
"Did you ever see the' Chainbearer's' niece, Dus Mal.
bone?"
This question not a little surprised me; for, though I had
never seen Ursula, the uncle had talked so much to me of
his ward, that I almost fancied she was an intimate acquaintance.  It often happens that we hear so much of certain
persons, that we think and speak of them as of those we
knowy; and had Miss Bayard questioned me of one of my
late comrades in the service, I should not have been a whit
more startled than I was at hearing her pronounce the familiar name of Dus Malbone.
"Where, in the name of all that is curious, did you ever
hear of such a person!" I exclaimed, a little inconsiderately,
since the world was certainly wide enough to admit of two
young women's being acquainted, without my consent; more
especially as one of them I had never seen, and the other I
had met, for the first tiime, only a fortnight before. " Old
Andries was always speaking to me of his niece; but I could
not suppose she was an acqxaintance of one of your position
in life!"
"Notwithstanding,.we were something more than school.
fellows;-for we were, and I trust are still, very, very good
friends. I like Dus exceedingly, though she is quite as
singular, in her way, as I have heard her uncle described to
be, in his."
"This is odd!-Will you allow me to ask one question?
-You will think it singular, perhaps, after what you have
just told me   but curiosity will get the better of my mantners-is Dus Malbone a lady-the equal and companion of
such a person as Miss Priscilla Bayard?"
"That is a question not so easily answered, perhaps;
since, in some respects, she is greatly the superior of any
young woman I know.  Her family, I have always heard,
was very good on both sides; she is poor, poor even to
poverty, I fear, now"- Here Pris. paused; there was a tre.
mour in her voice, even, and I detected tears starting to her
eyes.  "Poor Dus!" she continued -" she had much to




THE CHAINBEARER.                     71
support, in the way of poverty, even while at school; where
she was, indeed, as a dependant, rather than as a boarder;
but no one, among us all, could presume to offer her favours.
I was afraid even to ask her to accept a ribbon, as I should
not hesitate to do to Kate here, or any other young lady
with whom I was intimate. I never knew a nobler-minded
girl than Ursula Malbone, though few persons understand
her, I think."
" This is old Andries over again! He was pool' enough,
heaven knows; and I have known him actually suffer, in
order to do his duty by this girl, and to make a proper ap.
pearance at the same time, as a captain in the New York
line; yet none of us, not even my father, could ever induce
him to borrow a single dollar. He would give, but he would
not receive."
" I can believe this readily, it is so like Dus! If she has
her peculiarities, she has noble qualities enough to redeem
a thousand foibles. Still, I would not have you think Ursula
Malbone is not an excellent creature in all respects, though
she certainly has her peculiarities."
" Which, doubtless, she has inherited from the Coejemans,
as her uncle, the Chainbearer, has his peculiarities too."
" The Malbones have none of the blood of the Coeje.
mans," answered the lady, quickly; " though it is respecta.
ble, and not to be ashamed of. Dus Malbone's mother was
only half-sister to captain Coejemans, and they had different
fathers."
I thought Pris. looked a little confused, and as if she were
sorry she had said so much on the subject at all, the instant
she had betrayed so much intimacy with the Malbone
genealogy; for she shrunk back, plucked a rose, and walked
away smelling the flower, like one who was indisposed to
say ally more on the subject. A summons to breakfast,
however, would otherwise have interrupted us, and no more
was said about the Chainbearer, and his marvellous niece,
Dus Malbone. As soon as the meal was ended, our horses
were brought round, and Kate and I took our leave, TIaap
having preceded us as usual, an hour or more, with our
luggage. The reader is not to suppose that we always
moved in the saddle, in that day; on the contrary, my mo.
ther had a very neat chaise, in which she used to drive




72            T II E CII AI N  EA RR.
about the country, with a mounted postilion; my father had
a phaeton, and in town we actually kept a chariot; for the
union of the Mordaunt and Littlepage properties had made
us very comfortable, and comfortably we lived. But young
ladies liked the saddle twenty-five years ago, more than they
do to-day; and Kate, being a capital horsewoman, like her
mother before her, we were often' out together.  It was
choice, then, and not necessity, a little aided by bad roads,
perhaps, that induced us to ride across to Satanstoe so often,
when we wished to visit our grandmother.
I kissed my dear old parent very affectionately at parting, for I was to see her no more that summer; and I got
her blessing in return.  As for Tom Bayard, a warm, bro.
therly shake of the hand sufficed, inasmuch as it was pretty
certain I should see him at Lilacsbush before I left home.
Approaching his sister;, who held out her hand to me, in a
friendly manner, I said as I took it" I hope this is not the last time I am to see you;, before
I start for the new countries, Miss Bayard. You owe my
sister a~visit, I believe, and I shall trust to that debt for another opportunity of saying the unpleasant word'farewell.'"
" This is not the way to win a lady's heart, Mordaunt,"
cried Kate, gaily.  "It is only fifteen miles from  your
father's door to the Hickories, you ought to know, sir; and
you have a standing invitation to darken its door with your
military form."
" From both my father and brother"-put in Priscilla, a
little hastily. "They will always be happy to see.major
Littlepage, most ceritainly."
"And why not from yourself,. Miss Prude," added Kate,
who seemed bent on causing her friend some confusion.
"C We are not, now, such total strangers to each other, as to
render that little grace improper."
" When I am mistress of a house of my own, should that
day ever arrive, I shall take care not to lose my reputation
for hospitality," answered Pris., determined not to be caught,
"by neglecting to include all the Littlepage family in my
invitations. Until then, Tom's and papa's welcomes must
suffice."
The girl looked amazingly lovely all this time, and stood




THE  CHAINBEARER.                    73
the smiles of those around her with a self-possession that
showed me she knew perfectly well what she was about. I
was never more at a loss how to understand a young wo.
man, and it ismvery possible, had I remained near her for a
month longer, tht interest such uncertainty is apk,   awaken
might have sent me away desperately in love. But Provi.
dence had determined otherwise.
During our ride towards the'Bush, my sister, with proFer blushes and a becoming hesitation, let me into the secret
of her having accepted Tom Bayard. They were not to be
married until after my return from the north, an event that
was expected to take place in the ensuing autumn.
" Then I am to lose you, Kate, almost as soon as I find
you," I said, a little despondingly.
"Not lose me, brother; no, no, not lose me, but find me,
more than ever. I am to be transplanted into a family
whither you will soon be coming to seek a wife, yourself."
"Were I to come, what reason have I for supposing it
would be successful?"
" That is a question you have no right to ask. Did I
even know of any particular reason for believing your re.
ception would be favourable, you cannot believe -me suffi.
ciently treacherous to betray my friend. Young ladies are
not of the facility 9f character you seem to suppose, sir;
and no method but the direct one will succeed. I have no
other reason for believing you would succeed, than the facts
that you are an agreeable, good-looking youth, however,
of unexceptionable family and fortune, living quite near the
Hickories, and of a suitable age, temper, habits, character,
&c. &c. &c. Are not these reasons sufficient to encourage
you to persevere, my brave major?"
"Perseverance implies commencement, and I have not
yet commenced.  I scarcely know what to make of your
friend, child; she is either the perfection of nature and sim.
plicity, or the perfection of art."
"Art! Pris. Bayard artful! Mordaulnt, you never did a
human being greater injustice; a child cannot have greater
truth and sincerity than Tom's sister."
"Ay, that's just it; Tom's sister is ex oficio perfect;
but, you will please to remember that some children are
7




74            T-H E C I  I N  E A R E R.
very artful. All I can say onr the subject at present is, that
I liker Tom, and I like his parents; but I do not know what
to think of your friend."
Kate was a little offended, so she made me no answer.
Her goodimmour returned, however, before we had gone
far, and the rest of our ride passed pleasantly enough, no
allusions being made to any of the name of Bayard; though,
I dare say, my companion thought a great deal of a certain
Tom, of that name, as I certainly did of his handsome and
inexplicable sister.
At the Kingsbridge Inn, we had another short brush with
that untiring gossip, its landlady.
"A pleasant time it has been over at the'Toe, I dares to
say," exclaimed Mrs. Light, the instant she thrust her head
out. of the door; " a most agreeable and amusing time both
for the young gentleman and for the young lady. Mr.
Thomas Bayard and Miss Pris. Bayard have been with you,.
days and days, and old Madam Littlepage is delighted. Oh!
the'Toe has always been a happy house, and happy faces
have I long been used to see come out of it, and happy faces
do I see to-day! Yes, yes; the'Toe has always sent happy,
contented faces down the road; and a happy roof it has
been, by all accounts, these hundred years."
I dare say this was all true enough. I have always heard
that the old place contained contented hearts; and contented
hearts make happy faces. Kate's face was happiness itself,
as she sat in the saddle listening to the crone; and my coun.
tenance is not one of ill-nature. The "'Toe was ever a
happy house!" It recalls old times, to hear a house thus
familiarly spoken of; for a set is rising up among us which
is vastly too genteel to admit that any one, man, woman.
child, or Satan, ever had a member so homely as a'Toe.




THE  CHI A I N B E A RE.             75
CHAPTER VI.
"They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his majesty;
A stubborn race, fearing and flattering none,
Such are they nurtured, such they live and die:
All, but a few apostates, who are meddling
With merchandise, pounds, shillings, pence, and peddling."
HALLECK.
A DAY or two after my return to Lilacsbush, was pre.
sented one of those family scenes which are so common in
the genial month of June, on the shores of the glorious old
Hudson. I call the river the old Hudson, for it is quite as
old as the Tiber, though the world has not talked of it as
much, or as long. A thousand years hence, this stream
will be known over the whole earth; and men will speak
of it as they now speak of the Danube and the Rhine. As
good wine may not be made on its banks as is made on the
acclivities of the latter river; but, even to-day, better, both
as to quality and variety, is actually drunk. On this last
point, all intelligenttra-velfers agree.
There stands a noble linden on the lawn of Lilacsliush,
at no great distance from.the house, and necessarily within
a short distance of the water. The tree had been planted
there by my grandmother Mordaunt's father, to whom'the
place once belonged; and it was admirably placed for the
purposes of an afternoon's lounge. Beneath its shade we
often took our dessert and wine, in the warm months; and
thither, since their return from the army, general Littlepage
and colonel Dirck Follock used to carry their pipes, and
smoke over a campaign, or a bottle, as chance directed the
discourse. For that matter, no battle-field had ever been so
veiled in smoke, as would have been the case with the linden
in question, could there have been a concentration of all
the vapour it had seen.




76            THE CHAINBEARER.
The afternoon of the day just mentioned, the whole family
were seated beneath the tree, scattered round, as shade and
inclination tempted; though a small table, holding fruits
and -wine, showed that the usual business of the hour had
not been neglected.  The wines were Madeira and claret,
those common beverages in the country; and the fruits were
strawberries, cherries, oranges and figs; the two last im.
ported, of course.  It was a little too early for us to ge
pines from the islands, a fruit which is so common in its
season as to be readily purchased in town at the rate of four
of a good size for a dollar. But, the abundance, and even
luxury, of a better sort of the common American tables, is
no news; viands, liquors and fruits appearing on them, that
are only known to the very rich and very luxurious in the
countries of Europe.  If the service were only as tasteful,
and the cooking as good with us, as both are in France, for
instance, America would be the very paradise of the epicure,
let superficial travellers say what they please to the contrary. I have been abroad in these later times, and speak
of what I know.
No one sat at the table, though my father, colonel- Dirck,
and I were near enough to reach our glasses, at need. My
mother was next to me, and reasonably close; for I did not
not smoke while aunt Mary and Kate had taken post, just
without the influence of the tobacco. On the shore was a
large skiff, that contained a tolerably sized trunk or.two,
and a sort of clothes-bag.  In the first were a portion of
my'clothes, while those of Jaap filled the bag. The negro
himself was stretched on the grass, about half-way between
the tree and the shore, with two or three of his grandchildren rolling about, at his feet., In the skiff was his son,
seated in readiness to use the sculls, as soon as ordered.
All this arrangement denoted my approaching departure
for the north.  The wind was at the south, and sloops of
various degrees of promise and speed were appearing roulnd
the points, coming on one in the wake of another, as - ch
had been able to quit the wharves to profit by the b ocze.
In that day, the river had not a tenth part of the -:aft it
now possesses; but still, it had enough to make a lii e fleet,
so near town, and at a moment when wind and tide both
became favourable.  At that time, most of the craft on the




THE  CHIAINBEARER.                   77
Hudson belonged up the river, and they partook largely of
the taste of our Dutch ancestors. Notable travellers before
the gales, they did very little with foul winds, generally
requiring from ajweek to a fortnight to tide it down from
Albany, with                  the south. Nevertheless,
few pd6r-s-o-thought of making the journey between the two
largest towns of the State (York and Albany), without
hlaving recourse to one of these sloops.  I was at that moment in waiting for the appearance of a certain " Eagle, of
Albany, captain Bogert," which was to run in close to
Lilacsbush, and receive me on board, agreeably to an arrangement previously made in town. I was induced to take
a passage in this vessel from the circumstance that she had
a sort of after-cabin that was screened by an ample green
curtain, an advantage that all the vessels which then plied
on the river did not possess; though great improvements
have been making ever since the period of which I am now
writing.
Of course, the interval thus passed in waiting for the ap.
pearance of the Eagle was filled up, more or less, by discourse. Jaap, who was to accompany me in my journey to
Ravensnest, knew every vessel on the river, as soon as he
could see her, and we depended on him to let us know when
I was to embark, though the movements of the sloop herself could not fail to give us timely notice of the necessity
of taking leave.
"I should like exceedingly to pay a vit;t to old Mrs.
Vander Heyden, at Kinderhook, Mordaunt," said my mo.
ther, after one of the frequent pauses that occurred in cel'discourse. " She is a relation, and I feel a great regard for
her; so much the more, from the circumstance of her being
associated in my mind with that frightful night on the river,
of which you have heard me speak."
As my mother ceased speaking, she glanced affectionately
towards the general, who returned the look, as he returned
all my mother's looks, with one filled with manly tenderness. A more united couple than my parents never existed.
They seemed to me ordinarily to have but one mind between
them; and when there did occur any slight difference of
opinion, the question was not which should prevail, but
which should yield. Of the two, my mother may have had
7 *




78            THE CHAINBEARER.
the most native intellect, though the general was a fine,
manly, sensible person, and was very universally respected.
"It might be well, Anneke," said my father, "if t11e
major we're to pay a visit to poor Guert's grave, and see if
the stones are up, and that the place is kept as it should be.
[ have not been there since the year'68, when it looked as
if a friendly eye might do some good at no distant day."
This was said in a low voice, purposely to prevent aunt
Mary from hearing it; and, as she was a little deaf, it is
probable the intention was successful. Not so, however,
with colonel Dirck, who drew the pipe from his mouth, and
sat attentively listening, in the manner of one who felt great
interest in the subject. Another pause succeeded.
" T'en t'ere ist my Lort Howe, Corny," observed the
colonel; "' how is it wit' his grave?"' Oh! the colony took good care of that. They buried
him in the main aisle of St. Peter's, I believe; and, no doubt,
all is right with him. As for the other, major, it might be
well to look at it."
" Great changes have taken place at Albany, since we
were there as young people!" observed my mother, thoughtfully. "The Cuylers are much broken up by the revolution, while the Schuylers have grown greater than ever.
Poor aunt Schuyler, she is no longer living to welcome a
son of ours!"
" Time will bring about such changes, my love; and we
can only be thankful that so many of us remain, after so
long and bloody a war."
I saw my mother's lips move, and I knew she was murmuring a thanksgiving to the power which had preserved
her husband and son, through the late struggle.
"You will write as often as opportunities occur, Mordaunt," said that dear parent, after a longer pause than
usual. "Now there is peace, I can hope to get your letters
with some little regularity."
" They tell me, cousin Anneke" - for so the colonel aiways called my mother, when we were alone —" They tell
rue, cousin Anneke," said colonel Dirck, 1" t'at t'ey actually
mean to have a mail t'ree times a week petween Alpany
and York! T'ere ist no knowing, general, what t'is glorious revolution will not do for us!"




THE  CHAINBEARER.                     79
"If it bring me letters three times a week from those 1
love," rejoined my mother, "I am sure my patriotism will
be greatly increased. How will letters get out from Ravens.
nest to the older parts of the colony -I should say, State,
Mordaunt?"
"I must trust to the settlers for that. Hundreds of Yankees, they tell me, are out looking for farms this summer.
I may use some of them for messengers."
"Don't trust'em too much, or too many" — growled
colonel Dirck, who had the old Dutch grudge against our
eastern brethren.  " See how they behav't to Schuyler."
" Yes," said my father, replenishing his pipe, "they
might have manifested more justice and less prejudice to
wise Philip; but prejudices will exist, all over the world.
Even Washington has had his share."' T'AT is a great man!" exclaimed colonel Dirck, with
emphasis, and in the manner of one who felt certain of his
point.  "A ferry great man!"
"No one will -lispute with you, colonel, on that subject;
but, have you no message to send to our old comrade, An.
dries Coejemans?  He must have been at Mooseridge, with
his party of surveyors, now, near a twelvemonth, and I'11
warrant you has thoroughly looked up the old boundaries,
so as to be ready for Mordaunt to start afresh, as soon as
the boy reaches the Patent."
" I hope he hast not hiret a Yankee surveyor, Corny,"
put in the colonel, in some little alarm. " If one of t'em
animals gets upon the tract, he will manage to carry off
half of the lant in his conmpass-box! I hope olt Andries
knows petter."
" I dare say he'll manage to keep all the land, as well as
to survey it.  It is a thousand pities the captain has no head
for figures; for his honesty would have made his fortune.
But, I have seen him tried, and know it will not do. He
was a week once making up an account of some stores received from head-quarters, and the nearest he could get to
the result was twenty-five per cent. out of the way."
" I would sooner trust Andries Coejemans to survey my
property, figures or no figures," cried colonel Dirck, positively, " than any dominie in New England."
" elfl, that is as one thinks," returned my father, tasting




80            THE CHAINBEARER.
the Madeita.  "For my part, I shall. be satisfied with thl
surveyor he'may happen to select, even though he should
be a Yankee.  Andries is shrewd, if he be no calculator;
and I dare to say he has engaged a suitable man.  Having
taken the job at a liberal price, he is too honest a fellow not
to hire a proper person to do the head-work. As for all the
rest, I would trust him as soon as I would trust any man in
America."
" T'at is gospel. Mordaunt will haf an eye on matters
too, seein' he has so great an interest in the estate.  T'ere
is one t'ing, major, you must not forget. Five hundred goQt
acres must be surveyed off for sister Anneke, and five hun.
dred for pretty Kate, here. As soon as t'at is done, the
general and I will give each of the gals a deet."
"Thank you, Dirck," said my father, with feeling. "I'll
not refuse the land for the girls, who may be glad enough
to own it some time- or other."
" It's no great matter now, Corny; put, as you say, it'
may be of use one day. Suppose we make old Andries a
present of a farm, in his pargain."
" With all my heart," cried my father, quickly.  "A
couple of hundred acres might make him comfortable for
the rest of' his days. I thank you for the hint, Dirck, and
we will let Mordaunt choose the lot, and send us the description, that we may prepare the deed."
"You forget, general, that the Chainbearer has, or will
have his military lot, as a captain," I ventured to remark.
"Besides, land will be of little use to him, unless it might
be to measure it. I doubt if the old man would not prefer
going without his dinner, to hoeing a hill of potatoes."
"Andries had three slaves while he was with us; a man,
a woman, and their daughter," returned my father.'" He
would not sell them, lie said, on any consideration; and I
have known him actually suffering for money when he was
too proud to accept it from  his fiiends, and too benevolent
to part with family slaves, in order to raise it.' They were
born Coejamans,' he always said,' as much as I was born
one myself, and they shall die Coejemans.'  He doubtless
has these people with himn, at the Ridge, where you will
find them  all encamped, near some spring, with garden.
stuff and other small things growing around him, if he can




T  E CIIAINBEARER.                   81
find open land enough for such a purpose.  He has permis
sion to cut and till at pleasure."
"'This is agreeable news to me, general," I answered,
" since it promises a sort of home.  If the Chainbearer has
really these blacks with him, and has hutted judiciously, I
dare say we shall have quite as comfortable a time as many
of those we passed together in camp. Then, I shall carry
my flute with me; for Miss Priscilla Bayard has given me
reason to expect a very wonderful creature in Dus, the
niece, of which old Andries used to talk so much. You
remember to have heard the Chainbearer speak of such a
person, I dare say, sir; for he was quite fond of mentioning
her."
"Perfectly well; Dus Mialbone was a sort of toast among
the young men of the regiment at one time, though no one
of them all ever could get a sight of her, by hook or by
crook."
Happening to turn my head at that moment, I found my
dear mother's eyes turned curiously on me; brought there,
I fancy, by the allusion to Tom's sister.
" What does Priscilla Bayard know of this Chainbearer's
niece?" that beloved parent asked, as soon as she perceived
that her look had attracted my attention.
"A great deal, it would seem; since she tells me they
are fast friends: quite as great, I should judge from  Miss
Bhyard's language and manner, as Kate and herself."
" That can scarcely be," returned my mother, slightly
smillng, " since there the principal reason must be wanting.
Then, this Dus can hardly be Priscilla Bayard's equal."
"One never knows such a thing, mother, until he has
had an opportunity of making comparisons; though Miss
Bayard, herself, says Dus is much her superior in many
things. I arnesure her uncle is my superior in some re
spects; in carrying chain, particularly so."
"Ay, but scarcely in station, Mordaunt."
"He was the senior captain of the regiment."
"True; but revolutions are revolutions.  What I mean
is, that your Chainbearer can hardly be a gentleman."
" That is a point not to be decided in a breath.  He is,
and he is not. Old Andries is of a respectable family,
though but indifferently educated.  Men vastly his inferiors




62            THE CHAINBEARER.
in birth, in habits, in the general notions of the easte, in the
New England States, are greatly his superiors in know.
ledge. Nevertheless, while we must all admit how necessary
a certain amount of education has become, at the present
time, to make a gentleman, I think every gentleman will
allow hundreds ahnong us have degrees in their pockets with
small claims to belong to the class. Three or four centuries
ago, I should have answered that old Andries was a gentleman, though he had to bite the wax with his teeth and make
a cross, for want of a better signature."
"'And he, what you call a chainbearer, Mordaunt!" exclaimed my sister.
"' As well as late senior captain in your father's regiment,
Miss Littlepage. But, no matter, Andries and Dus are such
as they are, and I shall be glad to have them for companions
this summer. Jaap is making signals, and4 must quit you
all. Heigho! It is very pleasant here, under this linden,
and home begins to entwine its fibres around my heart.
Never mind; it will soon be autumn, and I shall see the
whole of you, I trust, as I leave you, well and happy in
town.l"
My dear, dear mother had tears in her eyes, when she
embraced me; so had Kate, who, though she did love Tom
Bayard most, loved me very warmly too. Aunt Mary
kissed me, in her quiet but affectionate way; and I shook
hands with the gentlemen, who accompanied me down- to
the boat. 4I could see that my father was affected. Had
the war still continued, he would have thought nothing of
the separation; but in that piping time of peace, it seemed
to come unseasonably.
*" Now, don't forget the great'lots for Anneke and Ka
trinke," said colonel Dirck, as we descended to the shore
"Let Andries pick out some of the best oBthe lant, t'at i
well watered and timbered, and we'11 call the lots after the
gals; that is a goot idea, Corny."
" Excellent, my friend. Mordaunt, my son, if you come
across any places that look like graves, I wish you would
set up marks by which they may be known. It is true, a
quarter of a century or more makes many changes in the
woods; and it is quite likely no such remains will be
fornd."




THE CHAINBEARER.                       83
"A qtiarter of a century in the American forest, sir," I
answered, " is somewhat like the same period in the wanderings of a comet; lost, in the numberless years of its
growth. A single tree will sometimes outlast the genera.
tions of an entire nation."
" You wilt rememper, Mordaunt, that I wilt haf no Yankee tenants on my estate. Your father may lease'em one.
half of a lot, if he please; but I will not lease t'other."
" As you are tenants in common, gentlemen," I answered,
smiling, " it will not be easy to separate the interests in this
manner. I believe I understand you, however; I am to sell
the lands of Mooseridge, or covenant to sell, as your attor.
ney, while I follow out my grandfather Mordaunt's ideas,
and lease those that are not yet leased, on my own estate.
This will at least give the settlers a choice, and those who
do not like one plan of olbtaining their farms, may adopt the
other."
I now shook hands again with the gentlemen, and stepping into the skiff, we pulled away from the shore. Jaap
had made this movement in good season, and we were compelled to row a quarter of a mile down the.river to meet the
sloop. Although the wind was perfectly fair, it was not so
fresh as to induce Mr. Bogert to round-to; but throwing us
a rope, it was caught, when we were safely transferred, bag
and baggage, to the decks of the Eagle.
Captain Bogert was smoking at the helm, when he re.
turned my salute. Removing the pipe, after a puff or two,
he pointed with the stem towards the group on the shore,
and inquired if I wished to say "good-bye."
" Allponny"-so the Dutch were wont to pronounce the
name of their town in the last century, " is a long way off,"
he said, " and maype you woult like'to see the frients ag'in."
This business of waving hats and handkerchiefs is a regular thing on the Hudson, and I expressed my willingness
to comply with the usage, as a matter of course.*  In con* Such were the notions of Mr. Mordaunt. Littlepage, at the com.
mencement of this century, and such his feeling shortly after the
peace of 1783. Nothing of the sort more completely illustrates the
general change that has conle over the land, in habits and material.hings, than the difference between the movements of that day and
those of our own. Then, the departure of a sloop, or the embarkation
of u passenger along the shore, brought parties to the wharves, and




84            TIIE CIAIN BEARER.
sequence, Mr. Bogert deliberatelv shcared in towards the
shore, and I saw the whole lamily collecting on a low rock,
near the water, to take the final look.  In the bick-ground
stood the Satanstoes, a dark, woolly group, including Mrs.
Jaap, and two generations of descendants. The whites were
weeping; that is to say, my dear mother and Kate; and the
blacks were laughing, though the old lady kept her teeth to
herself about as much as she exposed them.  A sensation
almost invariably produces laughter with a negro, the only
exceptions being on occasions of singular gravity.
I believe, if the truth were known, Mr. Bogert greatly
exulted in the stately movement of his sloop, as she brushed
along the.shore, at no great distance from the rocks, with
her main-boom guyed out to starboard, and studdingsailboom to port. The flying-topsail, too, was set; and the Eagle
might be said to be moving in all her glory.  She went so
near the rocks, too, as if she despised dang(er! Those were
not the days of close calculations that have succeeded.
Then, an Albany skipper did not mind losing a hundred or
two feet of distance in making his run; whereas, now, it
would not be an easy matter to persuade a Liverpool trader
to turn as much aside in order to speak a stranger in the
centre of the Atlantic; unless, indeed, he happened to want
to get, the other's longitude.
As the sloop swept past the rocks, I got bows, waving of
hats and handkerchiefs, and good wishes enough to last the
whole voyagn. Even Jaap. had his share; and " good-bye,
Jaap," came to my ears, from even the sweet voice of Kate,
Away we went, in stately Dutch movement, slow but sure
In ten minutes Liiacsbush was behind us, and I was once
more alone in the world, for months to come.
There was now time to look about me, and to ascertain
who were my companions in this voyage.. The skipper and
crew were as usual the masters; and the pilots, both whites,
wavings of handkerchiefs, as if those who were left behind felt a
lingering wish to see the last of*heir friends. Now, literally thou.
sands come and go daily, passing about as many hours on the Hudson
as their grandfathers passed days; and the shaking of hands and
leave.takings are usually done at home. It would be a bold woman
who would think now of waving a handkerchief to a Hudson river
steam-boat! - EDITOR.




TH E CI AIN B EARER.                  8)
and both of Dutch extraction, an old wrinkled negro, who
had passed his life on the Hudson as a foremast-hand, and
two younger blacks, one of whom was what was dignified
with the namelof cabin-steward. Then, there were humerous passengers; some of whom  appeared to belong to the
upper classes. They were of both sexes, but. all were
strangers to me. On the main-deck were six or eight sturdy,
decent, quiet, respectable-looking labourers, who were evi.
dently of the class of hlsbandmen. Their packs were lying
in a pile, near the foot of the mast, and I did not fail to observe that there were as many axes as there were packs.
The American axe! It has miadJe more real and lasting
conquests than the sword of any warlike people that ever
lived; but, they have been conquests that have left civilization in their train, instead of havoc and desolation.  More
than a million of square miles of territory* have been opened up from the shades of the virgin forest, to admit the
warmth of the sun; and culture and abundance have been
spread where the beast of the forest so lately roamed, hunted
by the savage. Most of this, too, has been effected between
the day when I went on board the Eagle, and that on which
I am now writing. A brief quarter of a century has seen
these wonderful changes wrought; and at the bottom of
them all lies this beautiful, well-prized, ready, and efficient
implement, the, American axe!
It would not be easy to give the reader a clear notion of
the manner in which the young men and men_of allages of
the older portions of the new republic poured into the woods
to commence the business of felling the forests, and laying
bare the secrets of na-ture, as. soon as the nation rose from
beneath the pressure of war, to enjoy the freedom of peace.
The history of that day in New York, which State led the
van in the righteous strife of improvement, and has ever
since so nobly maintained its vantage-ground, has not yet
been written. When it is properly recorded, names will be
rescued from oblivion that better deserve statues and niches
in the temple of national glory, than those of many who have
meiely got the start of them by means of the greater facility
with which the public mind is led away in the train of
~ More than two millions at the present day
8




86            THE CHAINBEARER.
brilliant exploits, thant it is made sensible of' the merits of
those that are humane and useful.
It was not usual for settlers, as it has become the practice
to term those who first take up and establish themselves on
new lands, to make their journeys from the neighbour:hood
of the sea to the interior, other than by land; but a few
passed out of Connecticut, by the way of New York, and
thence up the river in the sloops. Of this charwter were
those I found on board the Eagle.  In all, we had seven of
these men, who got into discourse with me the first day of
our passage, and I was a little surprised at discovering how
much they already knew of me, and of my movements.
Jaap, however, soon suggested himself to my mind, as the
probable means of the intelligence they had gleaned; and,
on inquiry, such I ascertained was the fact.
The curiosity and the questioning propensities of the people of New England, have been so generally admitted by
writers and commentators on -American character, that I
suppose one has a right to assume the truth of the characteristics. I have heard various ways of accounting for
them; and, among others, the circumstance of their disposi.
tion to emigrate; which brings with it the necessity of inquiring after the welfare of friends at a distance. It appears
to -me, however, this is taking a very narrow view of the
cause,. which I attribute to the general activity of mind
among a people little restrained by the conventional usages
of more sophisticated conditions of society.  The practice
of referring so much to the common mind, too, has a great
influence on all the opinions of this peculiar portion of the
American population, seeming to confer the right to inquire
into matters that are elsewhere protected by the sacred feel.
ing of individual privacy.
Let this be as it might, my axe-men had contrived to get
out of Jaap all he knew about Ravensnest and Mooseridge,
as well as my motives in making the present journey. This
information obtained, they were not slow in introducing
themselves to me, and of asking the questions that were
uppermost in their minds. Of course, I made such answers
as were called for by the case, and we established a sort
of business acquaintance between us, the very first day.
The voyage lasting several days, by the time we reached




THE CHAINBEARER.                      S7
Albany, pretty much all that could be said on such a subject
had been uttered by one side or the other.
As respected Ravensnest, my own property, my grand.
father had requested in his will that the farms might be
leased, having an eye to my children's profit, rather than
to mine. His request was a law to me, and I had fully de.
termnined to offer the unoccupied lands of that estate, or
quite three-fourths of the whole patent, on leases similar in
their conditions to those which had already been granted.
On the other hand, it was the intention to part with the lots
of Mooseridge, in fee. These conditions were made known
to the axe-men, as my first essay in settling a new country;
and contrary to what had been my expectation, I soon dis
covered that these adventurers inclined more to the leases
than to the deeds.  It is true, I expected a small payment
down, in the case of each absolute sale, while I was pre.
pared to grant leases, tbr three lives, at very low rents at
the best; and in.the cases of a large proportion of the lots,
those that were the least eligible by situation, or through
their quality, to grant them leases without any rent at all,
for the few first years of their occupation. These last ad.
vantages, and the opportunity of possessing lands a goodly
term of years, for rents that were put as low as a shilling
an acre, were strong inducements, as I soon discovered,
with those who carried all they were worth in their packs,
and who thus reserved the little money they possessed to
supply the wants of their future husbandry.
We talked these matters over during the week we were
on board the sloop; and by the time we came in sight of the
steeples of Albany, my men's minds were made up to follow
me to the Nest. These steeples were then two in number,
viz: that of the English church, that stood near the margin
of the town, against the hill; and that of the Dutch church,
which occupied an humbler site, on the low land, and could
scarcely be seen rising above the pointed roofs of the. adja.
cent houses; though these last, themselves, were neither
particularly high nor particularly imposing.




88           PTHE  CHAINBEARER.
CHAPTER VII.
" Wio is that graceful female here
With yon red hunter of the deer?
Of gentle mien and shape, she seems
For civil halls design'd;
Yet with the stately savage walks,
As she were of his kind."
PINCKNEY.
I MADE little stay in Albany, but, giving the direction tc
the Patent to the axe-men, left it the very day of our arrival.
There were very few public conveyances in that early day,
and I was obliged to hire a wagon to transport Jaap and
myself, with our effects, to Ravensnest. A sort of dull calm
had come over the country, after the struggles of the late
war; but one interest in it appearing to be alive and very
active.  That interest, fortunately for me, appeared to be
the business of " land-hunting" and " settling."  Of this, I
had sufficient proof in Albany itself; it being difficult to
enter the principal street of that town, and not find in it
more or less of these adventurers, the emblems of whose
pursuit were the pack and the axe.  Nine out of ten came
from the eastern or New England States; then the most
peopled, while they were not very fortunate in either soil or
climate.
We were two days in reaching Ravensnest, a property
which I had owned for several years, but which I now. saw
for the first time. My grandfather had left a sort of an agent
on the spot, a person of the name of Jason Newcome, who
was of my father, the general's age, and who had once been
a schoolmaster in the neighbourhood of Satanstoe.  This
agent had leased extensively himself, and was said to be the
occupant of the only mills, of any moment, on the property.
With him a correspondence had been maintained; and once
or twice during the war my father had managed to have an
interview with this representative of his and my interests.
As for myself, I was now to see him for the first time. ~V e




THIE  CHAINBEARER.                    89
knew each other by reputation only; and certain passages
in the agency had induced me to give Mr. Newcome notice
that it was my intention to make a change in. the manage.
ment of the property.
Any one who is familiar with the aspect of things in what
is called a " new country" in America, must be well aware
it is not very inviting. The lovers of the picturesque can
have little satisfaction in looking at even the finest natural
scenery at such moments; the labour that has been effected
usually having done so much to mar the beauties of nature,
without having yet had time to supply the deficiencies by
those of art.  Piles of charred or half'-burned logs; fields
covered with stumps, or ragged with stubs; fences of the
rudest sorts, and filled with brambles; buildings of the
meanest character; deserted clearings; and all the other
signs of a state of things in which there is a manifest and
constant struggle between immediate necessity and future
expediency, are not calculated to satisfy either the hopes or
the tastes.  Occasionally a different state of things, how.
ever, under circumstances peculiarly favourable, does exist,
and it may be well to allude to it, lest the reader form but a
single picture of this transition state of American life. When
the commerce of the country is active, and there is a de.
mand for the products of the new lands, a settlement often
presents a scene of activity in which the elements of a
thriving prosperity make themselves apparent amid the
smoke of fallows, and the rudeness of border life.  Neither,
however, was the case at Ravensnest, when I first visited
the place; though the last was, to a certain extent, its condition two or three years later, or after the great European
war brought its wheat and ashes into active demand.
I found but few more signs of cultivation between the
Ipoint where I left the great northern road and the bounds
of the patent, than had been found by my father, as he has
described them  to me in his first visit, which took place a
quarter of a century earlier than this of mine. There was
one log'tavern, it is true, in the space mentioned; but it
afforded nothing to drink but rum, and nothing to eat but
salted pork and potatoes, the day I stopped there to dine.
But there were times and seasons when, by means of veni.
son, wild fowl and fish, a lixurious board might have been
8*




90            THE  CHAINBEARER.
spread. That this was not the opinion of my landlady,
nevertheless, was apparent firom the remarks she made
while I was at table.
" You are lucky, major Littlepage," she said, " in not
having come among us in one of what I call our'starving
times'- and awful times they be, if' a body may say what
she thinks on'emrn."
" Starvation is a serious matter at any time," I answered,
" though I did not know you ever were reduced to such
difficulties in a country as rich and abundant as this."
" Of what use is riches and abundance if a man will do
nothing but fish and shoot?  I've seen the day when there
wasn't a mouthful to eat, in this very house, but a dozen or
two of squabs, a string of brook-trout, and maybe a deer,
or a salmon from one of the lakes."
" A little bread would have been a welcome addition to
such a meal."
" Oh! as for bread, I count that for nothin'. We always
have breatd and potatoes enough; but I hold a family to be
in a desperate way, when the mother can see the bottom of
the pork-barrel. Give me children that's raised on good
sound pork, afore all the game in the country.  Game's
good as a relish, and so's bread; but pork is the staff of
life! To have.good pork, a body must have good corn;
and good corn needs hoeing; and a hoe isn't a fish-pole, or
a gun. No, my children I calkerlate to bring up on pork,
with just as much bread and butter as they may want!"
This was American poverty as it existed in 1784. Bread,
butter and potatoes, ad libitum; but little pork, and no tea.
Game in abundance in its season; but the poor man who
lived on game was supposed to be keeping just as poor an
establishment as the epicure in town who gives a dinner t6
his brethren, and is compelled to apologize for there being
no game in the market. Curious to learn more from this
woman, I pursued the discourse.
"There are countries, I have read," I continued, "in
which the poor do not taste meat of any sort, not even game,
"rom the beginning of the year to its end; and, sometimes,
not even bread."
" Well, I'm  no great hand for bread, as I said afore,
and should eat no great matter of it, so long as I could get




TRHE  CHAIN BEARER.                   91
pork," the woman answered, evidently interested in what I
had said; "but, I shouldn't like to be without it altogether;
and the children, especially, do love to have it with their
butter. Living on potatoes alone must be a wild animal
sort of life!"
"' Very tame animals do it, and that from dire necessity."
" Is there any law ag'in their using bread and meat?"
"No other law than the one which forbids their using
that which is the property of another."
"Good land!"  This is a very common American ex.
pression among the women-", Good land! Why don't they
go to work and get in crops, so they might live a little?"
"Simply because they have no land to till.  The land
belongs to others, too."
"I should think they might hire, if they couldn't buy.
It's about as good to hire as it is to buy-some folks (folk)
think it's better. Why don't they take land on shares, and
live?"
" Because land, itself, is not to be had. With us, land is
abundant; we have more of it than is necessary, or than
will be necessary, for ages to come; perhaps it w-cilld be
better for our civilization were there less of it' but, In the
countries of which I speak, there are more people than there
is land."
"Well, land is a good thing, I admit, and it's right there
should be an owner to it; yet, there are folks who would
rather squat than buy or hire, any day. Squatting comes
nat'ral to'em."
" Are there many squatters in this part of the country?"
The woman looked a little confused, and she did not an.
swer me, until she had taken time to reflect on what she
should say.
" Some folks call us squatters, I s'pose," was the reluctant
answer, " but I do not. We have bought the betterments
of a man who hadn't much of a title, I think likely; but, as
we bought his betterments fairly, Mr. Tinkum,"-that was
the husband's name, —" is of opinion that'we live under
title, as it is called. What do you say to it, major Little.
page?"
"I can only say that nought will produce nought; no.
hing, nothing. If the man of whom you purchased owned




92            THE  CHAINBEARER.
nothing, he could sell nothing.  The betterments he called
his, were not his; and in purchasing them, you purchased
what he did not own."
"Well, it's no great shakes, if he had'nt any right, sin'
Tinkum only gi'n an old saddle, that warn't worth two dollars, and part of a set of single harness, that I'd defy a
conjurer to make fit any mule, for the whull right.  One
year's rent of this house is worth all put together, and that
twice over, if the truth must be said; and we've been in it,
now, seven years. My four youngest were all born under
this blessed roof, such as it is!"," In that case, you will not have much reason to corn
plain, when the real owner of the soil appears to claim it.
The betterments came cheap, and they will go as cheap."
" That's just it; though I don't call ourselves much of
squatters, a'ter all, seein' we have paid suthin' for the betterments. They say an old nail, paid in due form, will make
a sort of title in the highest court of the State.  I'm sure
the laws should be considerate of the poor."
" Not more so than of the rich. The laws should be equal
and just; and the poor are the last people who ought to
wish them otherwise, since they are certain to be the losers
when any other principle governs.'Rely on it, my good
woman, the man who is for ever preaching the rights of the
poor is at bottom  a rogue, and means to make that cry a
stalking-horse for his own benefit; since nothing can serve
the poor but severe justice.  No class suffers so much by a
departure from the rule, as the rich have a thousand other
means of attaining their ends, when the way is left clear to
them, by setting up any other master than the right?'
"I don't know but it may be so; but I don't call ourselves squatters.  There is' dreadful squatters about here,
though, and on your lands too, by the tell."
" On my lands! I am sorry to hear it, for I shall feel it
a duty to get rid of them. I very well know that the great
abundance of land that we have in the country, its little
comparative value, and the distance at which the owners
generally reside from their estates,. have united to render the
people careless of the rights of those who possess real property; and I am prepared to view things as they ate among




THE CHAINBEARER.                     93
ourselves, rather than as they exist in older countries; but
I shall not tolerate squatters."
"Well, by'all I hear, I think you'11 call old Andries, the
Chainbearer, a squatter of the first class. They tell me the
old chap has come back from the army as fierce as a catamount, and that there is no speaking to him, as one used to
could, in old times."
"You are, then, an old acquaintance of the Chain.
bearer?"
"I should think I was! Tinkum and I have lived about,
a good deal, in our day; and old Andries is a desp'ate
hand for the woods. He surveyed out for us, once, or halfsurveyed, another betterment; but he proved to be a spiteful
rogue afore he got through with the business; and we have
not set much store by him ever sin' that time."
" The Chainbearer a rogue! Andries Coejemans anything but an honest man! You are the first person, Mrs.
Tinkum, I have ever heard call in question his sterling integrity."
" Sterling money doesn't pass now, I conclude, sin' it's
revolution times. We all know which side your family was
on in the war, major Littlepage; so it's no offence to you.
A phoper sharp look.out they had of it here, when you quit
college; for some said old Herman Mordaunt had ordered
in his will that you should uphold the king; and then, most
of the tenants concluded they would get the lands altogether.
It is a sweet thing, major, for a tenant to get his farm without paying for it, as you may judge! Some folks was des.p'ate sorry when they heern tell that the Littlepages went
with the colonies."
"I hope there are few such knaves on the Ravensnest
estate as to wish anything of the sort.  But, let me hear an
explanation of your charge against the Chainbearer.  I
have no great concern for my own rights in the patent that
I claim."
The woman had the audacity, or the frankness, to draw
a long, regretful sigh, as it might be, in my very face. That
sigh expressed her regrets that I had not taken part with the
crown in the last struggle; in which case, I do suppose she
and Tinkum would have contrived to squat on one of the




94            T II E CIIAINEARER
farms of Ravensnest. [Iaving sighed, however, the landlady
did not disdain to answer.
"As for the Chainbearer, the simple truth is this," she
said. "Tinkum  hired him to run a line between some
betterments we had bought, and some that had been bought
by a neighbour of our'n. This was long afore the war, and
when titles were scarcer than they're gettin' to be now;
some of the landlords living across the water. Well, what
do you think the old fellow did, major?  He first asked for
our deeds, and we showed them to him; as good and lawful
warrantees as was ever printed, and filled up by a'squire.
He then set to work, all by himself, jobbing the whull survey, as it might be, and a prettier line was never run, as far
as he went, which was about half-way.  I thought it would
make etarnel peace atween us and our neighbour, for it had
been etarnel war afore that, for three whull years; sometimes with clubs, and sometimes with axes, and once with
scythes. But, somehow —I never know'd how —but somehow,
old Andries found out that the man who deeded to us had
no deed to himself, or no mortal right to the land, any more
than that sucking pig you see at the door there; when he
gi'n right up, refusing to carry out another link, or p'int
another needle, he did! Warn't that being cross-grained
and wilful! No, there's no dependence to be put on the
Chainbearer."
"Wilfull in the cause of right, as glorious old Andries
always is! I love and honour him all the better for it."
" La! - Do you love and honour sich a one as him!'Well, I should have expected suthin' else from  sich a
gentleman as you! I'd no idee major Littlepage could
honour an old, worn-out Chainbearer, and he a man that
couldn't get up in the world, too, when he had hands and
feet, all on'em together, on some of the very best rounds
of the ladder! Why, I judge that even Tinkum would have
gone ahead, if he had been born with sich a chance."
" Andries has been a captain in my own regiment, it is
true, and was once my superior officer; but he served for
his country's sake,,and not for his own. thave you seen
hiin lately?"
"That have we! He passed here about a twelvemonth
age, witi nis whull party, on their way to squat on your




THE CHAINBEARER. R5
own land, or I'm mistaken. There'was the Chainbearer
himself, two helpers, Dus and young Malbone."
" Young who?" I asked, with an interest that induced the
woman to turn her keen, sunken, but sharp grey eyes, in.
tently.on me.,
" Young Malbone, I said; Dus' brother, and the yourgster who does all old Andries''rithmetic. I suppose you
know as well as I do, that the Chainbearer can't calkerlate
any more than a wild goose, and not half as well as'a crow.
For that matter, I've known crows that, in plantin' time,
would measure a field in half the number of minutes that
the State surveyor would be hours at."
" This young Malbone, then, is the Chainbearer's nephew?-And he it is who does the surveying?"
"He does the'rithmetic part, and he is a brother of old
Andries' niece. I know'd the Coejemans when I was a gal,
and I've known the Malbones longer than I want to know
them."
" Have you any fault to find with the family, that you
speak thus of them?"
"Nothin' but their desperate pride, which makes.them
think themselves so much better than everybody else; yet,
they tell me, Dus and all on'em are just as poor as I am
myself."
"Perhaps you mistake their feeling, good woman; a
thing I think the more probable, as you seem to fancy mo.
ney the source of their pride, at the very moment you deny
their having any. Money is a thing on which few persons
of cultivated minds pride themselves. The purse-proud are,
almost invariably, the vulgar and ignorant."
No doubt -this was a moral thrown. away with such an
auditor; but I was provoked; and when a man is provoked,
he is not always wise. The answer showed the effect it had
produced.
"I don't pretend to know how that is; but, if it isn't
pride, what is it that makes Dus Malbone so different from
my da'ters? She'd no more think of being like one on'em,
scouring about the lots, riding bare-backed, and scampering
through the neighbourhood, than you'd think of cooking
my dinner-that she wouldn't."
Poor Mrs. Tinkum - or, as she would have been apt to




9JI           THE Cl AINBEA RER
call herself, Miss Tihrkum! She had betrayed one of' the
commonest weaknesses of' human nature, in thus imputing
pride to the Chainbearer's niece because the latter behaved
differently from her and her's.  How many persons in this.
good republic of ours judge their neighbours on precisely
the same principle; inferring something unsuitable, because
it seems to reflect on their own behaviour! But, by this
tiune, I had got to hear the name of' Dus with some interest,
and I felt disposed to push the subject further.
" Miss Malbone, then," I said, "does not ride barebacked?"
" La! major, what in natur' puts it into your head to call
the gal AMiss Malbone! -There's no Miss Malbone living
sin' her own mother died."
"  Well, Dus Malbone, I mean; she is above riding barebacked?"
"That she is; even a pillion would be hardly grand
enough for her, allowing her own brother to use the
saddle."
1" Her own brother? -This young surveyor, then, is
Dus's brother?"
"Sort o', and sort o' not, like. They had the same fathers,
but different mothers."
"- That explafins it; I never heard the Chainbearer speak
of any nephew, and it seems the young man is not related
to him at all-he is the half-brother of his niece."
" Why can't that niece behave like other young women?
that's the question I ask. My gals hasn't as much pride as
would be good for'em, not they! If a body wants to borrow an article over at the Nest, and that's seven miles off,
the whull way in the woods, just name it to Pdql, and she'd
jump on an ox, if there warn't a hoss, and away she'd go
a'ter it, with no more bit of a saddle, and maybe nothin' but
a halter, like a deer!  Give me Poll, afore all the gals I
know, for ar'nds!"
By this time, disrelish for vulgarity was getting the better
of curiosity; and my dinner of fried pork being done, I was
willing to drop the discourse. I had learned enough of An.
iries and his party to satisfy my curiosity, and Jaap was
patiently waiting to succeed me at table. Throwing down
the amount of the bill, I took a fowling-piece with which we




THE CHAINnIEARER.                    97
always travelled in those days, bade Mrs. Tinkum good-day,
ordered the black and the wagoner to follow with the team
as soon- as ready, and went on towards my own property
on foot
In a very few minutes I was quite beyond the Tinkum
betterments, and fairly in the forest again. It happened that
the title to a large tract of land adjoining Ravensnest was in
dispute, and no attempt at a serious settlement had ever been
made on it. Some one had " squatted" at this spot, to enjoy
the advantage of selling rum to those who went and came
between my own people and the inner country; and the
place had changed hands half a dozen times, by fraudulent,
or at least by worthless sales, from one squatter to another.
Around the house, by this time a decaying pile of logs, time
had done a part of the work of the settler, and aided by that
powerful servant but fearful master, fire, had given to the
small clearing somewhat of the -air of civilized cultivation.
The moment these narrow limits were passed, however, the"
traveller entered the virgin forest, with no other sign of man
around him than what was offered in the little-worked and
little-travelled road.  The highway was not much indebted
to the labours of man for any facilities it afforded the traveller. The trees had been cut out of it, it is true, but their
roots had not been extracted, and time had done more towards destroying them than the axe or the pick. Time had
done a good deal, however, and the inequalities were getting
to be smooth under the hoof and the wheel. A tolerably
good bridle-path had long been made, and I found no difficulty in walking in it, since that answered equally well for
man or beast.
The virgin forest of America is usually no place for the
ordinary sportsman. The birds that are called game are
but rarely found in it, one or two excepted; and it is a wellknown fact, that whilethe frontier-man is certain death with
a rifle-bullet, knocking the head off a' squirrel or a wild
turkey at his sixty or eighty yards, it is necessary to go into
the older parts of the country, and principally among sports-.
men of the better classes, in order to find those who knock
over the woodcock, snipe, quail, grouse and plover, on the
wing. I was thought a good shot on the " plains," and over
the heaths or commons of the island of Manhattan, and
9




98            TIlE  CHAINBEARER.
among the necks of Westchester; but I saw nothing to do
up there, where I then was, surrounded by trees that had
stood their centuries. It- would certainly have been easy
enough for me to kill a blue-jay, now and then, or a crow,
or even a raven, and perhaps an eagle, had I the propel
shot; but, as for anything that ordinarily is thought to adorn
a game-bag, not a feather could I see. For the want of
something better to do, then, if a young man of three or four
and-twenty ought thus to express himself, I began to rumi
nate on the charms of Pris. Bayard, and on the singularities
of Dus Malbone. In this mood I proceeded, getting over the
grounds at a rapid rate, leaving Miss Tinkum, the clearing
with its betterments, and the wagon, far behind me.
I had walked an hour alone, when the silence of the woods
was suddenly interrupted by the words of a song that came
not from any of the feathered race, though the nightingale
itself could hardly have equalled the sweetness of the notes
which were those of a female voice. The low notes struck
me as the fullest, richest, and most plaintive I had evei
heard; and I fancied they could not be equalled, until the
strain carried the singer's voice into a higher key, where it
seemed equally at home. I thought I knew the air, but thet
words were guttural, and in an unknown tongue. Frenchl
and Dutch were the only two foreign languages in which
one usually heard any music in our part of the woods at that
day; and even the first was by no means common. But
with both these languages I had a little acquaintance, and I
was soon satisfied that the words I heard belonged to nei
ther.  At length, it flashed on my mind that the song was;
Indian; not the music, but the words. The music was cetainly Scotch, or that altered Italian that time has attribu,to the Scotch; and there was a moment w*hen I fancietl
some Highland girl was singing near me one of the Celti
songs of the country of her childhood. But, closer attentic,
satisfied me that the words were really Indian; probably
belonging to the Mohawk, or some other language that I ha; I
often heard spoken.
The reader may be curious to know whence these soundk
proceeded, and why I did not see the being who gave birth
to such delicious harmony. It was owing to the fact tha
the song came from out of a thicket of young pines, tha




TIHE CHAINBEARER.                     99
grew on an ancient opening at a little distance from the
road, and which I supposed contained a hut of some sort or
other. These pines, however, completely concealed all
within them. ^So long as the song lasted, no tree of the
forest was more stationary than myself; but, when it ended,
I was about to advance towards the thicket, in order to pry
into its mysteries, when I heard a laugh that had scarcely
less of melody in it than the strains of the music itself.  It
was not a vulgar, clamorous burst. of girlish impulses, nor
was it even loud; but it was light-hearted, mirthful, indicating humour, if a mere laugh can do so much; and, in a
sense, it was contagious. It arrested my movement, in
order to listen; and, before any new impulse led me for-'
ward, the branches of the pines opened, and a man passed
out of the thicket into the road. A single glance sufficed to
let me know that the stranger was an Indian.
Notwithstanding I was apprised of the near vicinity of
others, I was a little startled with this sudden apparition.
Not so with him who was approaching: he could not have
known of my being amywhere near him; yet he manifested
no emotion as his cold, undisturbed glance fell on my form.
Steadily advancing, he came to the centre of the road; and,
as I had turned involuntarily to pursue my own way, not
sure it was prudent to remain in that neighbourhcod alone,
the red man fell in, with his moccasined foot, at my elbow,
and I found that;e, were thus strangely pursuing our jour.
ney, in the same direction, side by side.
The Indian and myself walked in this manner, within a
yard of each other, in the midst of that forest, for two or
three minutes without speaking. I forbore to say anything,
because I had heard that an Indian respected those mosi
who knew best how to repress their curiosity; which habit,
most probably, had its effect on my companion. At length,
the red man uttered, in the deep, guttural manner of his
people, the common conventional salutation of the fron.
tier" Sa-a-go?"
This word, which has belonged to some Indian language
once, passes everywhere for Indian with the white man;
and, quite likely for English, with the Indian. A set of such
terms has grown up between the twXo races, including such




100          THE CHAINBEAREU.
words as " moccasin," " pappoose,"" tomahawk," " squaw,
and many others.  "Sa-a-go," means "how d'ye do."
"Sa-a-go?" -I answered to my neighbour's civil salu.
tation.
After this we walked along for a few minutes more, nei.
ther party speaking. I took this opportunity to examine my
red brother, an employment that was all the easier from the
circumstance that he did not once look at me; the sinltle
glance sufficing to tell him 3. he wanted to know. In the
first place, I was soon satisfied that my companion did not
drink, a rare merit in a red man who lived near the whites.
This was evident from his countenance, gait, and general
bearing, as I thought, in addition to the fact that he possessed
no bottle, or anything else that would hold liquor. What I
liked the least was the circumstance of his being completely
armed; carrying knife, tomahawk and rifle, and each seemingly excellent of its kind. He was not painted, however,
and he wore an ordinary calico shirt, as was then the usual
garb of his people, in the warm season. The countenance
had the stern severity that is so commnon to a red warrior;
and, as this man was turned of fifty, his features began to
show the usual signs of exposure and service. Still, he was
a vigorous, respectable-looking red-man, and one who was
evidently accustomed to live much among civilized men. I
had no serious uneasiness, of course, at meeting such a person, although we were so completely buRied in the forest;
but, as a soldier, I could not help reflecting how inferior
my fowling-piece would necessarily prove to be to his rifle.
should he see fit to turn aside, and pull upon me from behind a tree, for the sake of plunder. Tradition said such
things had happened; though, on the whole, the red-man
of America has perhaps proved to be the most honest of the
two,'as compared with those who have supplanted him.
"How ole chief?" the Indian suddenly asked, without
even raising his eyes from the road.
" Old chief! Do you mean Washington, my friend?"
"Not so — mean ole chief, out here, at Nest. Mean
fader."
"My father! Do you know general Littlepage?"
"Be sure, know hinm. Your fader - see" - holding up
his two fore-fingers- "just like - dat him; dis you."




THE CHAINBEARER.                     101'Th;s is singular enough! And were you told that I
Was coming to this place?"
"Hear dat, too. Always talk about chief."
"Is it long since you saw my father?"
"See him in war-time-nebber hear of ole Sureflint?"
I had heard the officers of our regiment speak of such an
Indian, who had served a good deal with the corps, and
been exceedingly useful, in the two great northern campaigns especially.  He never happened to be with the regi.
ment after I joined it, though his name and services were a
good deal mixed up with the adventures of 1776 and 1777.
" Certainly," I answered, shaking the red-man cordially
by the hand.  "Certainly, have I heard of you, and something that is connected with times before the war. Did you
never meet my father before the war?"
" Sartain; meet in ole war. Gin'ral young man, denjust like son."
" By what name were you then known, Oneida?"
"' No Oneida-Onondago-sober tribe. Hab plenty name.
Sometime one, sometime anoder. Pale face say'Trackless,'
cause he can't find his trail - warrior call him'Sus.
quesus.'"
CHAPTER VIII.
" With what free growth the elm and plane
Fling their huge arm across my way;
Grey, old, and cumber'd with a train
Of vines, as huge, and old, and grey!
Free stray the lucid streams, and find
No taint in these fresh lawns and shades;
Free spring the flowers that scent the wind,
Where never scythe has swept the glades."
BRYANTr.
IHAD heard enough.of my father's early adventures to
&now that the man mentioned in the last chapter had been a
conspicuous actor in them, and remembered that the latter
enjoyed the fullest confidence of the former. It was news
to me, however, that Sureflint and the Trackless were the
9.9 *




102           THE  CHAINBEARER.
same person; though, when I came to reflect on the past, I
had some faint recollection of having once before heard
something of the sort. At any rate, I was now with a friend,
and no longer thought it necessary to be on my guard. This
was a great relief, in every point of view, as one does not
like to travel at the side of a stranger, with an impression,
however faint, that the latter may blow his brains out, the
first time he ventures to turn his own head aside.
Susquesus was drawing near to the decline of life. Had
he been a white man, I might have said he was in a "green
old age;" but the term of "red old age" would suit him
much better.  His features were still singularly fine; while
the cheeks, without being very full, had that indurated, solid
look, that flesh and muscles get from use and exposure. His
form was as erect as in his best days, a red.man's frame
rarely yielding in this way to any pressure but that of exceeding old age, and that of rum. Susquesus never admitted
the enemy into, his mouth, and consequently the citadel of
his physical man was secure against every invader but time.
In-toed and yielding in his gait, the old warrior and runner
still passed over the ground with an easy movement; and,
when I had occasion to see him increase his speed,. as soon
after occurred, I did not fail to perceive that his sinews
seemed strung' to their utmost force, and that every move.
ment was free.
For a time, the Indian and I talked of the late war, and
of the scenes in which each of us had been an actor. If my
own modesty was as obvious as that of Sureflint, I had no
reason to be dissatisfied with myself; for, the manner in
which he alluded to events in which I knew he had been
somewhat prominent, was simple and entirely free from
that boasting in which the red-man is prone to indulge;
more especially when he wishes to provoke his enemies.
At length I changed the current of the discourse, by saying
abruptly"You were not alone in that pine thicket, Susquesus;
that from which you came, when you joined me?"
" No-sartain; wasn't alone.  Plenty people dere."
" Is. there an encampment of your tribe among those
bushes?"
A shade passed over the dark countenance of my corn




THE CHAINBEARER.                    103
panion, and I saw a question had been asked that gave him
pain. He paused some little time before he answered; and,
when he did, it was in a way that seemed sad.
" Susquesus got tribe no longer. Quit Onondagos t'irty
summer, now; don't like Mohawk."
"I remember to have heard something of this from my
father, who told me at. the same time, that the reason why
you left your people was to your credit. But, you had music
in the thicket?"
"Yes; gal sing —gal love sing; warrior like listen."
"And the song?-In what language were the words?"
"Onondago"-answered the Indian, in a low tone.
"I had no idea the music of the red people was so sweet.
It is many a day since I have heard a song that went sc
near to my heart, though I could not understand what was
said."
" Bird, pretty bird-sing like wren."' And is there much of this music in your family, Sus.
quesus? If so, I shall come often to listen."
"Why not come?  Path got no briar; short path, too.
Gal sing, when you want."
" Then I shall certainly be your guest, some day, soon.
Where do you live, now? Are you Sureflint, or Trackless,
to-day? I- see you are armed, but not painted."
" Hatchet buried berry deep, dis time. No dig him up,
in great many year.. Mohawk make peace; Oneida make
peace; Onondago make peace —all bury'e hatchet."
"' Well, so much the better for us landholders. I have,'ome to sell and lease my lands; perhaps you can tell me
f many young men are out hunting for farms this sums ner?"
" Wood full. Plenty as pigeon. How you sell land?"
"That will depend on where it is, and how good it is.
)o you wish to buy, Trackless?"
"Injin own all land, for what he want, now.  I make
wligwam where I want; make him, too, when I want."
"I know very well that you Indians do claim such a
ight; and, so long as the country remains in its present
wild state, no' one will be apt to refuse it to you. But, you
c'annot plant and gather, as most of your people do in their
etwn country."




O04          THE CHAINBEARER..
" Got no squaw - got no pappoose —little corn do for
Susqucesus.  No tribe - no squaw - no pappoose!"
This was said in a low, deliberate voice, and with a species
of manly melancholy that I fbund very touching. Com.
plaining men create very little sympathy, and those who
whine are apt to lose our respect; but, I know no spectacle
more imposing than that of one of stern nature smothering
his sorrows beneath the mantle of manliness and self-comrn.
mand.
" You have friends, Susqubsus," I answered, "if you
have no wife nor-children."
c" Fader, good friend; hope son friend, too. Grandfader
great friend, once; but he gone far away, and nebber come
back. Know moder, know fader-all good.":" Take what land you want, Trackless-till it, sell itdo what you wish with it."
The Indian eyed me keenly, and I detected a slight smile
of pleasure stealing over his weather-worn face. It was not
easy to throw him off his habitual guard over his emotions,
however; and the gleam of illumination passed away, like a
ray of sunshine in mid-winter. The sternest white man
might have grasped my hand, and something like a sign of
gratitude would probably have escaped him; but, the little
trace of emotion I have mentioned having disappeared, no.
thing remained on the dark visage of my companion that,
in the least, resembled an evidence of yielding to any of the
gentler feelings. Nevertheless, he was too courteous, and
had too much of the innate sentiment of a gentleman, not to
make some return for an offer that had so evidently and
spontaneously come from the heart.
" Good" - he said, after a long pause. " Berry good,
dat; good, to come from young warrior to ole warrior.
T'ankee -bird plenty; fish plenty; message plenty, now;
and don't want land. Time come, maybe-s'pose he must
come-come to all ole red-men, hereabout; so s'pose must
come."
" What time do you mean, Trackless? Let it come when
it may, you have a friend in me. What time'do you mean,
my brave old Sureflint?"
The Trackless stopped, dropped the breech of his rifle on




THE  CHAINBEARER.                   105
the ground, and stood meditating a minute, motionless, and
as grand as some fine statue.
" Yes; time come, do s'pose," he continued. "One time,
ole warrior live in wigwam, and tell young warrior of scalp,
and council-fire, and hunt, and war-path; now, make broom
and basket."
It was not easy to mistake this; and I do not remember
ever to have felt so lively an interest, on so short an ac.
quaintance, as I began to feel in this Onondago. Priscilla
Bayard herself, however lovely, graceful, winning and
feminine, had not created a feeling so strong and animated,
as that which was awakened within me in behalf of old
Sureflint. But, I fully understood that this was to be shown
in acts, and not in words. Contenting myself for the present,
after the fashion of the pale-faces, by grasping and squeezing
the sinewy hand of the warrior, we walked on together,
making no farther allusion to a subject that, I can truly say,
was as painful to me as it was to my companion.
" I have heard your name mentioned as one of those who
were at the Nest with my father, when he was a young
man, Susquesus," I resumed, "and when the Canada Indians attempted to burn the house."
"Good - Susquesus dere - young Dutch chief kill dat
time."
" Very true - his name was Guert Ten Eyck; and my
father and mother, and your old friend colonel Follock,
who was afterwards major of our regiment, you will remember, they love his memory to this day, as that of a very
dear friend."
"Dat all, love memory, now?" asked the Indian, throw.
ing one of his keenest glances at me.
I understood the allusion, which was to aunt Mary, whom
I had heard spoken of as the betrothed, or, at least, as the
beloved, of the young Albanian.
" Not all; for there is a lady, who still mourns his loss,
a3 if she had been his widow."
" Good-do' squaw don't mourn fery long time. Some.
t.me; not always."
"Pray, Trueflint, do you happen to know anything of a
man called the Chainbearer? He was in the regiment, too
and you must have seen him in the war."




106            TIHE' CHAINBEARER.
" Sartain-know Chainbearer-know him on war-pathknow him when hatchet buried.  Know Chainbearer afore
ole French war. Live in wood wid him-one of us. Chain.
bearer my, friqnd."
" I rejoice to hear this, for he is also mine; and I shall be
glad to coile into the compact, as a friend of both."
" Good —Susquesus and young landlord friend of Chain
bearer-good."
" It is good, and a league that shall not be forgotten
easily by me.  The Chainbearer is as honest as light, and
as certain as his own compass, Trueflint —true, as yourself."
"'Fraid he make broom'fore great while, too," said the
Indian, expressing the regret I have no doubt he felt, very
obviously in his countenance.
Poor old Andries! But for the warm and true friends he
had in my father, colonel Dirck and myself, there was some
danger this might be the case, indeed. The fact that he had
served his country in a revolution would prove of little avail,
that country being too poor to provide for its old servants,
and possibly indisposed, had she the means.* I say this
without intending to reflect on either the people or the government; for, it is not easy to make the men of the present
day understand the deep depression, in a pecuniary sense,
that rested on the land for a year or two after peace was
made. It recovered, as the child recovers from indisposition,
by the vigour of its constitution and the power of its vitality;
and one of the means by which it recovered, was by turning
* This must pass for one of the hits the republic is exposed to,
partly because it deserves them, and partly because it is a republic.
One hears a great deal of this ingratitude of republics, but few take
the trouble of examining into the truth of the charge, or its reason,
if true. I suppose the charge to be true, in part, and for the obvious
reason that a government founded on the popular will is necessarily
impulsive in such matters, and feels no necessity to be just, in order
to be secure. Then, a democracy is always subject to the influence
of the cant of economy, which is next thing to the evil of being ex.
posed to the waste and cupidity of those who take because they have
the power. As respects the soldiers of the revolution, however, Ame.
rica, under the impulsive-feeling, rather than in obedience to a calm
deliberate desire to be just, has, since the time of Mr. Mordaunt Little.
page, made such a liberal provision for pensioning them, as to include
a good many of her enemies, as well as all her friends.- EDITOR.




THE  CHAINBEARER.                   107
to the soil, and wielding the sickle instead of the sword. To.:ontinue the discourse.
"The Chainbearer is an honest man, and, like too many,4f his class, poor," I answered; "but, he has friends; and... ither he, nor you, Surefint, shall be reduced to that wo-,lan's work without your own consent, so long as I have
an unoccupied house, or a farm, at Ravensnest."
Again the Indian manifested his sense of' my frienidship
tor him, by that passing gleam on his dark face; and again
till signs of emotion passed slowly away.
"How long since see him?" he asked me, suddenly.
"See him - the Chainbearer do you mean?  I have not
seen him, now, for more than a twelvemonth; not since we
arted when the regiment was disbanded."
" Don't mean Chainbearer - mean him," pointing ahead
~ -' house, tree; farm, land, Nest."
" Oh! How long is it since I saw the patent.  I never
saw it, Sureflint;-this is my first visit."' Dat queer! How you own land, when nebber see
him?"
"Among the pale-faces we have such laws, that property
lasses from parent to child; and I inherit mine, in this
iieighbourhood, from my grandfather, Herman Mordaunt."
" What dat mean,'herit?  How man haf land, when he
don't keep him?"
" We do keep it, if not by actually remaining on the spot,
ly means of our laws and our titles. The pale-faces regulate
anil these things on paper, Sureflint."
"T'ink dat good?  Why no let man take land where he
Wvant him, when he want him?  Plenty land.  Got more
land dan got people.'Nough for ebbery body."
"That fact makes our laws just; if there were not land
enough for everybody, these restrictions and divisions might
possibly seem to be, and in fact be, unjust. Now, any man
can have a farm who will pay a very moderate price for it.'['he State sells, and landlords sell; and those who don't
choose to buy of one, can buy of the other."
"Dat true'nough; but don't see need of dat paper.
When he want to stay on land, let him stay; when he want
to gosomewhere let'noder man come. What good pay fo
betterment?"




[10          THIE  CHAINBEARER.
"' So as to have betterments. These are what we call th(
rights of property, without which no man would aim at being anything more than clad and fed. Who would hunt,
if anybody that came along-had a right to pick up and skin
his game?"
"'See dat, well'nough-nebber do; no, nebber.  Don't
see why land go like skin, when skin go wid warrior and
hunter, and land stay where he be."
" That is because the riches of you red-men are confined
to movable property, and to your wigwams, so long as you
choose to live in them. Thus far, you respect the rights
of property as well as the pale-faces; but you must see a
great difference between your people and mine - Between
the red-man and the white man?"
"Be sure, differ: one strong, t'oder weak -one rich,
jt'oder poor-one great, t'oder little —one drive'way, t'oder
"haf to go-one get all, t'oder keep nuttin' —one march large
Ormy, t'oder gQ Injin file, fifty warrior, p'rhaps-dat reason,
i'ing so."
" And why can the pale-faces march in large armies, with
cannon, and horses, and bayonets, and the red-man not do
the same?"
"'Cause he no got'em —no got warrior-no got gunno got baggonet-no got nuttin."
"You have given the effect for the cause, Sureflint, or
the consequences of the reason, for the reason itself.'I
hope I make you understand me. Listen, and I will explain. -You have lived much with the white men, Susquesus,
and can believe what I say. There are good, and there are
bad, among all people. Colour makes no difference, in this
respect.  Still, all people are not'alike.'The white man is
stronger than the red-man, and has taken away his country,
because he knows most."
" He most, too. Count army, den count war-trail; you
see.'
"It is true, the pale-faces are the most numerous now;
but once they were not. Do not your traditions tell you
how few the Yengeese were, when they first came across
the salt lake?"
"Come in big canoe-two, t'rce full-no more."'" Why then did two or three ship's-full of white men be



THE  CII A I NEARER.                 1(9
come so strong as to drive back fiom  the sea all the r;d
warriors, and become masters of the land?  Can you give
a reason for that?"
"'Cause he bring fire-water wid him, and red-man big
fool to drink."
"Even that fire-water, which doubtless has proved a
cruel gift to the Indians, is one of the fruits of the wh.le
man's knowledge. No, Susquesus; the red-skin is as brave
as the pale. face; as willing to defend his rights, and as able,
bodied; but he does not know as much.  He had no gun.
powder until the white man gave it to him -no rifle - no
hoe, no knife, no tomahawk, but such as he made himself
from stones. Now, all the knowledge, and all the arts of
life that the white man enjoys and turns to his profit, come
from the rights of property. No man would build a wigwam
to make rifles in, if he thought he could not keep it as long
as he wished, sell it when he pleased, and leave it to his son
when he went to the land of spirits.  It is by encouraging
man's love of himself, in this manner, that he is got to do so
much. Thus it is, too, that the father gives to the son what
he has learned, as well as what he has built or bought; and
so, in time, nations get to be powerful, as they get to be what
we call civilized. Without these rights of property, no people
could, be civilized; for no people would do their utmost, unless each man were permitted to be master of what he can
acquire, subject to the great and common laws that are necessary to regulate such matters.  I hope you understand
my meaning, Trackless."
"Sartain - no like Trackless' moccasin - my young
friend's tongue leave trail.  But, you t'ink Great Spirit say
who shall L af land; who no haf him?"
"The Great Spirit has created man as he is, and the
earth as it is; and he has left the one to be master of the
other.  If it were not his pleasure that man should not do
as he has done, it would not be done.  Different laws and
different feelings would then bring about different ends.
When the law places all men on a level, as to rights, it does
as much as can be expected of it.  Now, this level does
not consist in pulling everything to pieces periodically, bit
in respecting certain great principles that are just in themselves: but which, once started, must be left to follow their
10




110          THE  CHAINBEAItER.
own course. When the rights of property are firsL establish
ed, they must be established fairly, on some admitted rule,
after which, they are to remain inviolable - that is to say,
sacred."
" Understand-no live in clearin' for nuttin'. Mean, ha!'
no head widout haf farm."
"That is the meaning, substantially, Sureflint; though 1
might have explained it a little differently.  I wish to say
pale-faces would be like the red-man without civilization;
and without civilization if they had no rights in their land.
No one will work for another as he will work for himself.
We see that every day, in the simplest manner, when we
see that the desire to get good wages will not make the
common labourer do as much by the day as he will do by
the job."
"Dat true," answered the Indian, smiling; for he seldom
laughed; and repeating a common saying of the country"By-de-day —by-de-day-By de job,. job, job! Dat
pale-face religion, young chief."
" I don't know that our religion has much to do with it;
but I will own it is our practice. I fancy it is the same with
all races and colours. A man must work for himself to do
his most; and he cannot work for himself unless he enjoy
the fruits of his labour.  Thus it is, that he must have a
tight of property in land, either bought or hired,.in order to
make him cause that land to produce all that nature intended
it should produce. On this necessity is founded the rights
of property; the gain being civilization; the loss ignorance,
and poverty, and weakness. - It is for this reason, then, that
we buy and sell land, as well as clothes and arms, and
beads."
"T'ink, understand. Great Spirit, den, say must have
farm?"
"The Great Spirit has said we must have wants and
wishes, that can be met, or Gratified only, by havin tfarms.
To have farms we must have owners; and owners cannot
iexist unless their rights in their lands are protected.  As
soon as these are gone, the whole building would tumble
down about our ears, Susquesus."
"Well, s'pose him so. We see, some time. Young chief
Know where he is?"




THE CHAINBEARER.                     111'' Not exact y; but I suppose we are drawing near to the
lands of Ravensnest."
"Well, queer'nough, too!  Own land, but don't know
htim. See-marked tree-dat sign your land begin."
"Thank you, Sureflint -a parent would not know his
own child, when he saw him for the first time. If I am
owner here, you will remember that this is my first visit to
the spot."
While conversing, the Trackless had led me from the
highway into a foot-path, which, as I afterwards discovered,
made a short cut across some hills, and saved us near two
miles in the distance. In consequence of this change in our
course, Jaap could not have overtaken me, had he moved
faster than he did; but, owing to the badness of the road,
our gait on foot was somewhat faster than that of the jaded
beasts who dragged the wagon. My guide knew the way
perfectly; and, as we ascended a hill, he pointed out the
remains of an old fire, near a spring, as a spot where he
was accustomed to "'camp," when he wished to remain
near, but not in the'Nest.
" Too much rum in tavern" —he said.  "No good stay
near rum."
This was extraordinary forbearance for an Indian; but
Susquesus, I had ever understood, was an extraordinary
Indian. Even for an Onondago, he was temperate and selfdenying. The reason why he lived away from his tribe
was a secret from most persons; though I subsequently
ascertained it was known to the Chainbearer, as well as my
father. Old Andries always affirmed it was creditable to
his friend; but he would never betray the secret.  Indeed,
I found that the sympathy which existed between these two
men, each of whom was go singular in his way, was
cemented by some occurrences of their early lives, to which
occasional, but vague allusions were made, but which neither ever revealed to me, or to any other person, so far as I
could ascertain.
Soon after passing the spring, Sureflint'ed me out to a
cleared spot on the eminence, which commanded an extensive view of most of that part of my possessions which was
under lease and occupied.  Here we halted, seating our.
selves on a fallen tree, for whicTh on- could never go amiss




112           THE  CHAINBEARER.
in that region, and at that day; and I examined the view
with the interest which ownership is apt to create in us all.
The earth is very beautiful in itself; but it is most beautiful
in the eyes of those who have the largest stake in it, I fear.
Although the property of Ravensnest had been settled
fully thirty years when I first saw it, none of those signs
of rapid and energetic improvement were visible that we
have witnessed in the efforts of-similar undertakings since
the revolution.  Previously to that great event, the country
filled up very slowly, and each colony seemed to regard
itself, in some measure, as a distinct country. Thus it was
that we in New York obtained very few immigrants from
New England, that great hive which has so often swarmed
since, and the bees of which have carried their industry and
ingenuity over so much of the republic in our own time.
We of New York have our prejudices against the Yankees,
and have long looked upon them with eyes of distrust and
disfavour. They have repaid us in kind, perhaps; but their
dislikes have not been strong enough to prevent them from
coming to take possession of our lands. For my own part,
while I certainly see much in the New England character
that I do not like, (more in their manners and minor ways,
perhaps, than in essentials), I as certainly see a great deal
to command my respect. If the civilization that they carry
with them is not of a very high order, as is connected with
the tastes, sentiments, and nicer feelings, it is superior to
that of any other country I have visited, in its common.
sense provisions, and in its care over the intellectual being,
considered in reference to the foundations of learning. More
persons are dragged from out the mire of profound ignorance
under their system, than under that of any other people;
and a greater number of candidates are brought forward for
intellectual advancement.  That so few of these candidates
rise very high on the scale of knowledge, is in part owing
to the circumstance that their lives are so purely practical;
and, possibly, in part to the fact that while so much attention has been paid to the foundations of the social edifice,
that little art or care has as yet been expended on the superstructure.  Nevertheless, the millions of Yankees that are
spreading. themselves over.the land, are producing, and have
already produced, a most salutary influence on its practical




THE CHAINBEARER.                     113
knowledge, oil its enterprise, on its improvements, and consequently on its happiness. If they have not done much for
its tastes, its manners, and its higher principles, it is because
no portion of the earth is perfect. I am fuliy aware that this
is conceding more than my own father would have conceded
in their favour, and twice as much as could have been extracted from either of my grandfathers.  But, prejudice is
wearing away, and the Dutchman and the Yankee, in particular, find it possible to live in proximity and charity.  It
is possible that my son may be willing to concede even more.
Our immigrant friends should remember one thing, however,
and it would render them much more agreeable as companions and neighbours, which is this:- He who migrates is
sound to respect the habits and opinions of those whom he
joins; it not being sufficient for the perfection of everything
under the canopy of heaven, that it should come from our
own little corner of the earth.  Even the pumpkin-pies of
the Middle States are'vastly better than those usually found
in New England. To return to Ravensnest.
The thirty years of the settlement of my patent, then, had
not done much for it, in the way of works of art. Time, it
is true, had effected something, and it was something in a
manner that was a little peculiar; and which might be oftener
discovered in the country at the time of which I am writing,
than at the present day.  The timber of the'Nest, with the
exception of some mountain-land, was principally what, in
American parlance, is termed " hard wood." In other words,
the trees were not perennial, but deciduous; and the merest
tyro in the woods knows that the roots of the last decay in
a fourth of the time that the roots of the first endure, after
the trunk is severed.  As a consequence, the stumps had
nearly all disappeared from the felds; a fact that, of itself,
gave to the place the appearance of an old country, according to our American- notions.  It is true, the virgin forest
still flourished in immediate contact with those fields, shorn,
tilled and smoothed as they were, giving a wild and solemn
setting tc the rural picture the latter presented. The contrast was sufficiently bold and striking. b it it was not without its soft and pleasant points.  From the height whither
the Indian had led me, I had a foreground of open land,
dotted with cottages and barnus mostly of logs, beautified
10 *




114           THE  CHAINB EARER.
by flourishing orchards, and garnished with bread meadows,
or enriched by fields, in which the corn was waving under
the currents of a light summer air. Two or three roads
wound along the settlement, turning aside with friendly in.
terest, to visit every door; and at the southern termination of
the open country, there was a hamlet, built of wood framed,
which contained one house that had little taste, but a good
deal more of pretension than any of its neighbours; another,
that was an inn; a store, a blacksmith's-shop, a school.
house, and three or four other buildings, besides barns,
sheds and hog-pens. Near the hamlet, or the " Nest Village,"
as the place was called, were the mills of the region. These
were a grist-mill, a saw-mill, a fulling-mill, and an oil-mill.
All were of moderate dimensions, and, most probably, of
moderate receipts.  Even the best house was not painted,
though it had some very ambitious attempts at architecture,
and enjoyed the benefits of no less than four exterior doors,
the uses of one of which, as it opened into the air from the
second story, it'was not very easy to imagine. Doubtless
some great but unfinishedd project of the owner lay at the
root of this invention.  But living out of doors, as it were,
is rather a characteristic of a portion of our people.
The back-ground of this picture, to which a certain degree of rural beauty was not- wanting, was the " boundless
woods." Woods stretched away, north, and south, and east,
far as eye could reach; woods crowned the sides and sum.
mits of all the mountains in view; and woods rose up, with
their leafy carpeting, from out the ravines and dells. The
wa, had prevented any very recent attempts at clearing,
and all the open ground wore the same aspect of homely
cultivation, while the dark shades of an interminable forest
were spread around, forming a sort of mysterious void, that
lay between this obscure and remote people, and the rest of
their kind.  That forest, however, was not entirely savage.
There were other settlements springing up in its bosom; a
few roads wound their way through its depths; and, here
and there, the hunter, the squatter, or the red-man, had
raised his cabin, and dwelt amid the sullen but not unplea,nt abundance and magnificence of the wilderness.




THE  CIIAINBEARER.                    115
CHAPTER IX.
"O masters! if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable men:
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men."
SHAKSPEARE.
"Tils, then, is Ravensnest!" I exclaimed, after gazing
on the scene for several minutes in silence; "the estate
left me by my grandfather, and where events once occurred
that are still spoken of in my family as some of the most
momentous in its history; events, Susquesus, in which you
were an actor."
*The Indian made a low interjection, but it is not probable
he fully understood me.  What was there so remarkable in
a savage inroad, a house besieged, men slain and scalps
taken, that.he should remember such things for a quarter
of a century!
"I do not see the'Nest, itself, Trueflint," I added; "the
house in which my grandfather once lived."
The Onondago did not speak, but he pointed with a finger
in a north-easterly direction, making the action distinct and
impressive, as is usual with his people. I knew the place
by the descriptions I had heard, though it was new moulder.
ing, and had gone far into decay. Logs piled up green, and
confined in such a structure, will last some thirty or forty
years, according to the nature of the trees from which they
come, and the manner in which they have been covered,
At that distance, I tould not well distinguish how far, or
bow much, time had done its work; but I fancied I knew
enough of such matters to understand I was not to expect
in the Nest a very comfortable home. A family dwelt in
the old'place, and I had seen some cheeses that had been




116          THE CHAINBEARER.
made on the very fine farm that was attached to it. There
was a large and seemingly a flourishing orchard, and the
fields looked well; but, as for the house, at that distance it
appeared sombre, dark, and was barely to be distinguished
by its form and chimneys, from any other pile of logs.
I was struck with the silent, dreamy, sabbath-like air of
the fields, far and near. With the exception of a few halfnaked children who were visible around the dwellings to
which we were the closest, not a human being could I discover. The fields were tenantless, so far as men were concerned, though a good many horned cattle were to be seen
grazing.
" My tenants are not without stock, I find, Trueflint," 1
remarked.  "There are plenty of cattle in the pastures."
"You see, all young;" answered the Onondago. "M War
do dat. Kill ole one fobr soldier."
" By the way, as this settlement escaped plunder, I should
think its people may have done something by selling supplies
to the army.'Provisions of all kinds were very high and
scarce, I remember, when we met Burgoyne."
" Sartain.. Your people sell both side-good trade, den.
Feed Yankees-feed Yengeese."
"Well, I make no doubt it was so; for the husbandman
is not very apt to hesitate when he can get a good price;
and if he were, the conscience of the drover would stand'
between him and treason. But, where are all the men of
this country? I do not see a single man, far or near."
"Nou see him?-Dere," answered the Indian, pointing in
the direction of the hamlet.  "Squire light Council-Fire today, s'pose, and make speech."
"Trueenough-there they are, gathered about the schoolhouse.. BMt, whom do you mean by the'squire, who is so
fond of making speeches?"
"Ole schoolmaster. Come from salt lake- great friend
of grandfader."
1" Oh! Mr. Newcome, my agent - true; I might have
known that he was king of the settlement. Well, Trueflint,
let us go on; and when we reach the tavern, we shall be
able to learn what the Great Council is about. Say nothing
of my business; for it will be pleasant to look on a little
before I speak myself."




THE CHAINBEARER.                    117
The Indian arose, and led the way down the height, fol.
lowing a foot-path with which he appeared to be familiar.
In a few minutes we were in a highway, and at no great
distance from the hamlet. I had laid aside most of the dress
that it was the fashion of gentlemen to wear in 1784, and
put on a hunting-shirt and leggings, as more fitting attire
for the woods; consequently it would not have been easy
for one who was not in the secret to imagine that he who
arrived on foot, in such a garb, carrying his fowling-piece,
and accompanied by an Indian, was the owner of the estate.
I had sent no recent notice of my intended arrival; and, as
we went along, I took a fancy to get a faint glimpse of things
incognito. In order to do this, it might be necessary to say
a word more to the Indian.
" Susquesus," I added, as we drew near the school-house,
which stood between us and the tavern, " I hope you have
understood me -there is no need of telling any one who -I
am. If asked, you can answer I am your friend. That
will be true, as you will find as long as you live."
"Good - young chief got eyes; want to look wid'em,
himself. Gdbd - Susquesus know."
In another minute we stopped in the crowd, before the
door of the school-house. The Indian was so well known,
and so often at the'Nest, that hIis appearance excited no
attention. Some important business appeared on the capet,
bfor there was much caucusing, much private conversation,
many eager faces, and much putting together of heads.
While the public mind was thus agitated, few were disposed
to take any particular notice of me, though I had not stood
long in the outer edge of the crowd, which may have contain.
ed sixty or seventy men, besides quite as many well-grown
lads, before I overheard an interrogatory put, as to who I
was, and whether I had "a right to a vote."  My curiosity
was a good deal excited, and I was on the point of asking
some explanation, when a man appeared in the door of the
school-house, who laid the whole matter bare,;n a speech.
This person had a shrivelled, care-worn, but keen look, and
was somewhat better dressed than most around him, though
not particularly elegant, or even very neat, in his toilette.
He was grey-headed, of a small, thin figure, and might have
oeen drawing hard upon sixty.  He spoke in a deliberate,




118           THE  CHAINBEA RER.
self-possessed manner, as if long accustomed to the sort of
business in which he was engaaged, but in a very decided
Connecticut accent.  I say Connecticut, in contradistinction
to that of New England generally; fior while the eastern
States have many crnmon peculiarities in this way, a nice
and practised ear can tell a Rhode-Islander from a Massachusetts man, and a Connecticut man from either. As the
orator opened his mouth to remove a chew of tobacco previously to opening it to speak, a murmur near me said
" hist! there's the squire; now, we shall get suthin'." This,
then, was Mr. Jason Newcome. my agent, and the principal
resident in the settlement.
"Fellow-citizens" - Mr. Newcome commenced -" you
are assembled this day, on a most important, and I may
say, trying occasion; an occasion calculated to exercise all
our spirits. Your business is to decide on the denomination
of the church-building, that you are about to erect; and the
futur' welfare of your souls may, in one sense, be said to be
interested in yoir decision. Your deliberations have already
been opened by prayer; and now you are abQut to come to
a final vote. Differences of opinion have, and do exist
among you; but differences of opinion exist everywhere.
They belong to liberty, the blessings of which are not to be
enj'yed without full and free differences of opinion. Religiofs liberty demands differences of opinion, as a body
might say; and without them, there would be no religious
liberty. You all know the weighty reason there is for
coming to some conclusion speedily. The owner of the sile
will make his appearance this summer, and his family are
all of a desperate tendency towards an idolatrous church,
which is unpleasant to most of yorw. To prevent any consequences, therefore, from his interference, we ought to decide
at once, and not only have the house raised, but ruffed in
afore lie arrives. Among ourselves, however, we have been
-omewxvat divided, and that is a different matter.  On the
former votes, it has stood twenty-six for congregational to
twventy-five presbytery, fourteen methodist, nine baptist.
three; universal, and one episcopal. Now, nothin' is clearer
than that the mnjority ought to rule, and that it is the duty
of the minority to submit.  My first decision, as moderator,
was that the congregationals have it by a majority of one




THE CHAINBEARER.                     119
but some being dissatisfied with that opinion, I have been
ready to hear reason, and to take the view that twenty-six
is not a majority, but a plurality, as it is called. As twentysix, or twenty-five, however, is a majority over nine, and
over three, and over one, taking their numbers singly or
together, your committee report that the baptists, universals
and episcopals ought to be dropped, and that the next vote,
now to be taken, shall be confined to the three highest
numbers; that is to say, to the congregationals, the presby.
terians and the methodists.  Everybody has a right to vote
for which he pleases, provided he' vote for one of them three.
I suppose I am understood, and shall now put the question,
unless some gentleman has any remarks to make."
"Mr. Moderator," cried out a burly, hearty-looking yeoman, from the crowd —" is it in order now, to speak?"
"Quite so, sir-order, gentlemen, order-major Hosmer
is Up."'
Up we all were, if standing on one's feet be up; but the
word was parliamentary, and it appeared to be understood.
"' Mr. Moderator, I am of the Baptist order, and I do not
think the decision just; sin' it compels us Baptists to vote
for a denomination we don't like,.or not to vote at all."
"But, you will allow that the majority ought to rule?"
interrupted the chair.
" Sartain - I agree to that; for that is part of my religion, too," returned the old yeoman, heartily, and with an
air of perfect good faith-" the majority ought to rule; but
I do not see that a majority is in favour o}f the Congregationals any more than it is of the Baptists."
" We will put it to vote ag'in, major, just for your satis.
faction," returned Mr. Newcome, with an air of great candour and moderation.  " Gentlemen; those of you who are
in favour of the Baptists not being included in the next vote
for denomination, will please to hold up your hands."
As every man present who was not a Baptist voted " ay,"
there were sixty-nine hands shown. The " no's" were then
demanded in the same way, and the Baptists got their nine
own votes, as before. Major Hosmer admitted he was satisfied, though he looked as if there might be something wrong
In the procedure, after all. As the Baptists were the strongest
of the three excluded. sects, the other two made a merit of




t20          THE C I AIN  EA R E R.
necessity, and said nothing.  It was understood they were.
in a minority; and a minority, as it too often happens in
America, has very few rights.
"It now remains, gentlemen," resumed the moderator,
who was a model of submission to the public voice, " to put
the vote, as between the Congregationals, the Presbyterians
and the Methodists. I shall first put the Congregationalists.
Those who are in favour of that sect, the old Connecticut
standing order, will please to hold up their hands."
The tone of voice, the coaxing expression of the eye, and
the words "old Connecticut standing order," let me at once
into the secret of the moderator's wishes. At first, but thirtyfour hands appeared; but the moderator having counted
these, he looked round the crowd until he fairly looked up
three more; after which he, honestly enough, announced
the vote to be thirty-seven for the Congregationalists.  So
eleven of the thirteen of silenced sects had, most probably,
voted with the moderator. The Presbyterians came next,
and they got their own people, and two of the Baptists,
making twenty-seven in all, on a trial in their behalf. The
Methodists got only their own fourteen.
" It evidently appearing, gentlemen," said the moderator,
" that the Methodists gain no strength, and being less than
half the Congregational vote, and much lower than the
Presbyterian, I put it to their own well-known Christian
humility, whether they ought not to withdraw!"
"Put it openly to vote, as you did ag'in us," came out
a Baptist.
" Is that your pleasure, gentlemen?  Seeing that it is, I
will now try the vote. Those who are in favour of the
Methodists withdrawing, will hold up their hands."
Sixty-four hands were raised for, and fourteen against
the withdrawal.
" It is impossible for any religion to flourish ag'in sich a
majority," said the moderator, with great apparent candour;
"and, though I regret it, for I sincerely wish we were strong
enough to build meetin'-houses for every denomination in
the world; but, as we are not, we must take things as they
are, and so the Methodists must withdraw. Gentlemen, the
question is now narrowed down to the Congregationals and
the Presbyterians. There is not much difference between




THE   I I N!E A REIR.
them, and it is a thousand F'ties there sh)ould be any.  Are
you ready fobr the question, gentlemen? No answer being
given, I shall put the vote."
And the vote was put, the result being thirty-nine to
thirty-nine, or a tie. I could see that the moderator was
disappointed, and supposed he would claim a casting vote
in addition to the one he had already given; but I did not
know my man.  Mr. Newcome avoided all appearances of
personal authority; majorities were his cardinal rule, and
to majorities alone he would defer. Whenever he chose to
govern, it was by means of majorities.  T'he exercise of a
power as accidentally bestowed as that of presiding officer,
might excite heart-burnings and envy; but he who went
with a majority was certain of having the weight of public
sympathies of his side.  No - no - Mr. Newcombe never
had an opinion, as against numbers.
I am sorry to say that very mistaken notions of the power
of majorities are beginning to take root among us.  It is
common to hear it asserted, as a political axiom, that the
majority must rule! This axiom may be innocent enough,
when its application is properly made, which is simply to
say that in the control of those interests of which the decision is referred to majorities, majorities must rule; but, God
forbid that majorities should ever rule in all things, in this
republic or anywhere else! Such a state of things would
soon become intolerable, rendering the government that admitted of its existence the most odious tyranny that has
been known in christendom in modern times. The government of this country is the sway of certain great and incontestable principles, that are just in themselves, and which
are set forth in the several constitutions, and under which
certain minor questions are periodically referred to local
majorities, as of necessity, out of the frequency of which
appeals has arisen a mistake that is getting to be dangerously general.  God forbid, I repeat, that a mere personal
majority should assume the power which alone belongs to
principles.
Mr. Newcome avoided a decision, as from the chair; bu.
three several times did he take the vote, and each time was
there a tie.  I could now perceive that'he was seriously
uneasv.  Such steadiness denoted that men had made up
1




122           THE CHAINBEARER.
their minds, and that they would be apt to adhere to them,
since one side was apparently as strong as the other. The
circumstances "alled for a display of democratical tactics;
and Mr. Newcome being very expert in such matters, ho(
could have little difficulty in getting along with the simple
people with whom he had to deal.
" You see how'it is, fellow-citizens. The public has takel
sides, and formed itself into two parties. From this inomen
the affair must be treated as a party question, and be de
cided on party principles; though the majority must rule.
Oh! here, neighbour Willis; will you just step over to m;
house, and ask Miss Newcome (Anglice, Mrs. Newcome)
to hand you the last volume of the State Laws? Perhap i
they have a word to say in the matter." Here neighboutr
Willis did as desired, and moved out of the crowd. As i
afterwards discovered, he was a warm presbyterian, who,
happened, unfortunately for his sect, to stand so directly
before the moderator, as unavoidably to catch his eye.  I
suspected that'squire Newcome would now call a vote olt
the main question. But I did not know my man. This
would have been too palpably a trick, and he carefull;
avoided committing the blunder. There was plenty of time
since the moderator knew hisovife could not very readihl
find a book he had lent to a magistrate in another settlemen
twenty miles off; so that he did not hesitate to have a littl!
private conversation with one or two of his friends.
" Not to be losing time, Mr. Moderator," said one of'squire Newcome's confidants, "I will move you that it is
the sense of this meeting, that the government of churche.s;
by means of a presbytery is anti-republican, opposed to ou t
glorious institutions, and at variance with the best interests
of the human family.  I submit the question to the publi,:
without debate, being content to know the unbiassed sentiments of my fellow-citizens on the subject."
The question was duly seconded and put, the result being
thirty-nine for, and thirty-eight against; or a majority ot
one, that Presbyterian rule was anti-republican. This was
a great coup de maitre. Having settled that it was oppose l
to the institutions to have a presbytery, a great deal wai
gained towards establishing another denomination in tha
settlement. No religion can maintain it.elf against politica




T IE CHAINBEARER.                    123
sentiment in this country, politics coming home daily to
men's minds and pockets.
It is odd enough that, while all sects agree in saying that
the Christian religion comes from God, and that its dogmas
are to be received as the laws of Infinite Wisdom, men
should be found sufficiently illogical, or sufficiently presulmptuous, to imagine that any, the least of its rules, are to
be impaired or strengthened by their dissemblance or their
conformity to any provisions of human institutions. As well
might it be admitted at once, that Christianity is not of divine
origin, or the still more extravagant position be assumed,
that the polity which God himself has established can be
amended by any of the narrow and short-sighted devices
of man.  Nevertheless, it is not to be concealed, that here,
as elsewhere, churches are fashioned to suit the institutions,
and not the institutions to suit the church.
Having achieved so much success, the moderator's confi.
dant pushed his advantage.
"' Mr. Moderato,'," he continued, "as this question has
altogether assumed a party character, it is manifestly proper
that the party which has the majority should not'be encumbered in its proceedings by the movements of the minority,
Presbytery has been denounced by this meeting, and its
friends stand in the light of a defeated party at a State
election. They can have nothin' to do with the government.
I move, therefore, that those who are opposed to presbytery
go into caucus, in order to appoint a committee to recommend to the majority a denomination which will be acceptable to the people of Ravensnest. I hope the motion will be
put without debate. The subject is a religious one, and it is
unwise to awaken strife on anything at all connected with
religion."
Alas! alas! How much injury has been done to the cause
of Christianity, how much wrong to the laws of God, and
even to good morals, by appeals of this nature, that are intended to smother inquiry, and force down on the timid, the
schemes of the designing and fraudulent! Integrity is ever
simple and frank; while the devil resorts to these plans of
plausible forbearance and seeming concessions, in order to
veil his nefarious devices.
The thing took, however for popular bodies, once under




124           THE C I AIN BEA R ER.
control, are as easily managed as the vessel that obeys her
helm; the strength of the current always giving additional
power to that material portion of the ship. The motion was
accordingly seconded and put. As there was no debate,
which had been made to appear anti-religious, the result
was precisely the same as on the last question. In other
words, there was one majority for disfranchising just onehalf the meeting, counting the above man; and this, too, on
the principle that the majority ought to rule. After this, the
caucus-people went into the school-house, where it was understood a committee of twenty-six was appointed, to recommend a denomination to the majority. This committee, so
respectable in its character, and of so much influence by its
numbers, was not slow in acting. As became its moral
weight, it unanimously reported that the congregational
polity was the one most acceptable to the people of Ravens.
nest. This report was accepted by acclamation, and the
caucus adjourned sine die.
The moderator now called the whole meeting *to order,
again.
"' Mr. Moderator," said the confidant, "it is time that this
community should come to some conclusion, in the premises. It has been agitated long enough, in its religious
feelings, and further delay' might lead to unpleasant and
lasting divisions.  I therefore move that it is the sense of
this meetin' that the people of Ravensnest ardently.wish to
see the new meetin'-us, which is about to be raised, devoted
and set apart for the services of the Congregational church,
and that a Congregational church be organized, and a Con.
gregational pastor duly called.  I trust this question, like
all the others, will be passed in perfect harmony, and without debate, as becomes the solemn business we are on."
The question was taken, and the old majority of one was
found to be in its favour. Just as Mr. Moderator meekly
announced the result, his messenger appeared in the crowd,
bawling out, "'Squire, Miss Newcome says she can't noway find the volum', which she kind o' thinks you've lent.'
"Bless me! so I have!" exclaimed the surprised magis.
trate. -' It's not in the settlement, I declare; but it's of no
importance now, as a majority has fairly decided. Fellow.
citizens, we have been dealing with the most important in




THE CHAINBEARER.                    125
terest that consarns man; his religious state, government,
and well-being. Unanimity is very desirable on such a
question; and, as it is to be presumed no one will oppose
the pop'lar will, I shall now put the question to vote for the
purpose of obtaining that unanimity. Those who are in
favour of the Congregationals, or who ardently wish that
denomination, will hold up their hands."
About three-fourths of the hands went up, at once. Cries
of" unanimity-unanimity"-followed, until one hand after
another went up, and I counted seventy-three. The re.
maining voters continued recusant; but as no question was
taken on the other side, the vote may be said to have been
a very decided one, if not positively unanimous. The moderator and two or three of his friends made short speeches,
commending the liberality of a part of the citizens, and
congratulating all, When the meeting was adjourned.
Such were the facts attending the establishment of the
Congregational church, in the settlement of Ravensnest, on
purely republican principles; the question having been
carried unanimously in favour of that denomination, although
fifty-two votes out of seventy-eight were pretty evidently
opposed to it! But republican principles were properly
maintained, and the matter was settled; the people having
solemnly decided that they ardently wished for a church
that, in truth, they did not desire at all.
No complaints were made, on the spot at least. The
crowd dispersed, and as Mr. Newcome walked through it,
with the air of a beaten, rather than of a successful man, I
-ame under his observation for the first time. He examined
me keenly, and I saw a certain air of doubt and misgiving
in his manner.'Just at that moment,' however, and before
he had time to put a question, Jaap drove up in the wagon,
and the negro was an old acquaintance, having often been
at the'Nest, and knowing the'squire for more than a quarter of a century. This explained the whole affair, a certain
mixed resemblance to both father and mother which I am
said to bear, probably aiding in making the truth more apparent.
Mr. Newcome was startled - that was apparent in his
countenancoe-but he was, nevertheless, self-possessed. Ap.
11 *




126           THE CHAINBEARER.
proacning, he saluted me, and at once let me know he un.
derstood who I was.
"This is major Littlepage, -I s'pose," he said. " I can
see a good' deal of the gin'ral in you, as I know'd your
father, when a young man; and something of Herman Mordaunt, your mother's father. How long is it sin' your arrival,
major Littlepage?"
" But a few minutes," I answered, evasively, "You see
my wagon and servant, there, and we are fresh from Albany.
My arrival has been opportune, as all my tenants must be
collected here, at this moment."
" Why, yes sir, yes; here are pretty much the whull of
them. We have had a little meetin' to-day, to decide on the
natur' of our religion, as one might say. I s'pose the major
didn't get here until matters were coming to a head?"
"' You are quite right, Mr. Newcome — matters were
coming to a head, as you say, before I got on the ground."
The'squire was a good deal relieved at this, for his conscience doubtless pricked him a little on the subject of the
allusion he had made to me, and my own denomination.
As for myself, I was not sorry to have got so early behind
the curtain, as to the character of my agent.  It was pretty
clear he was playing his own game, as to some things, andit might be necessary for me to see that this propensity did
not extend itself into other concerns. It is true, my mind
was made up to change him, but there were long and intri.
cate accounts to settle.
" Yes, sir, religion is an interest of the greatest import.
ance- to man's welfare, and it has b'en (Anglice, been) too
long neglected among us," continued the late moderator.
"-You see, yonder, the frame for a meetin'-us, the first that
was ever commenced in this settlement, and it is our intention to put it up this a'ternoon. The bents are all ready.
The pike poles are placed, and all is waiting for the word
to'heave.' You'll perceive,'squire, it was judicious to go
to a sartain p'int, afore we concluded on the denomination.
Up to that p'int every man would nat'rally work as if he
was workin' for his own order; and we've seen the benefit
of such policy, as there you can see the clap-boards planed,
the sash made and glazed, stuff cut for pews, and everything
ready to put together. The very nails and paints are bought




THE  CRHAINBEAREK                  12-7
and paid for. In a word, nothing' remains to be done, but to
put together and finish oft;f, and preach."
"Why did you not erect the edifice, and'finish off,' as
you call it, before you came to the test-vote, that I perceive
you have just taken?"
"That would have been goin' a le-e-e-tle too far, major —
a very le-e-e-tle. If you give a man too tight a hold, he
doesn't like to let go, sometimes. We talked the matter
over among us, and concluded to put the question before we
went any further. All has turned out happily, and we have
unailimously resolved to be Congregational.  Unanimity in
religion is a blessed thing!"
" Do you apprehend no falling off in zeal, in consequence
of this work? no refusing to help pay the carpenters, and
painters, and priest?"
"Not much-a little, perhaps; but no great matter, I
should judge. Your own liberal example, major, has had
its influence, and I make no doubt will produce an,ffect."
"My example, sir!-I do not understand you, Mr. Newcome, never having heard of the church, untill I heard your
own allusions to it, as chairman of this very meeting."'Squire Newcome hemmed, cleared his throat, took an
extra-sized chew of tobacco, and then felt himself equal to
attempting an answer.
"I call it your example, sir; though the authority for
what I have done came from your honoured father, general.
Littlepage, as long ago as before the revolution. War-time,
you know, major, is no time for buildin' meetin'-uses; so we
concluded to defer the matter until peace. Peace we hatv,
and our own eends are fast approaching; and I thought if
the work was ever to be done, so that this, generation should
get the benefit of it, it should be done now. I was in hopes
we should have had preachin' in the house afore your arrival, and surprised you with the cheerin' sight of a worshipping people on your lands. Here is your fathers letter,
from which I read a paragraph to the people, half an hour
sin'."
"I trust the people have always been worshippers, though
it may not have been in a house built expressly for the purpose. With your permission, I will read the letter."
This document bore the date of 1770, or fourteen years




128           THE  CHIAINBEARER.
before the time the building was erected, and five years be.
fore the battle of Lexington was fought. I was a little sur
prised at this, but read on. Among other things, I founa
that my father had given a general consent to credit his
tenants with $500( to aid in the erection of a place of worship; reserving to himself, as my guardian, a voice in the
choice of the denomination. I may add, here, that on examining the leases, I found credits had been given, in 1770,
for the full amount; and that the money, or what passed
for money, the proceeds of work, produce, cattle, butter,
cheese, &c., had been in Mr. Newcome's hands the whole
of the intervening time, no doubt to his great advantage.
Thus, by a tardy appropriation of my father's bounty, the
agent was pretty certain of being able to finish the job in
hand, even admitting that some of the people should prove
restiveunder the recent decision.
" And the money thus appropriated has gone to its desti.
nation?" I asked, on returning the letter.
"' Every copper has thus gone, major, or will soon go.
When the First Congregational, of Ravensnest, is up, you
can contemplate the house with the satisfaction of knowing
that your own money has largely aided in the good work
of its erection.. What a delightful sentiment that must
awaken! It must be a great blessin' to landlords, to be
able to remember how much of their money goes for the
good of their fellow-mortals."
" In my case, it certainly should, as I understand my
father, and indeed have mnyself'seen, by the accounts rendered to me, that not one dollar of rent has ever yet left the
settlement, to go into the pocket of the owner of the estatenay, that the direct outlays of my grandfather were consi.
derable, in addition to the first cost of the patent."
" I do not deny it, major; I do not deny it. It is quite
probable.  But, you will consider what the spirit of Public
Improvement demands; and  you gentlemen-proprietors
nat'rally.look forward to futur' generations for your reward
-yes, sir, to futur' generations.  Then will come the time
when these leased lands will turn to account, and you will
enj'y the fruits of your liberality."
I bowed, but made no answer. By this time, the wagon
had reached the inn, and Jaap was getting out the trunk




THE CHAINBEARER.                    129
and other luggage. A rumour had gone fQrth among the
people that their landlord had arrived, and some of the older
tenants, those who had known "Herman Mordaunt," as
they all called my grandfather, crowded around me in a
fiank, hearty manner, in which good feeling was blended
with respect. They desired to take my hand., I shook
hands with all who came, and can truly say that I took no,man's palm into my own that day, without a sentiment that:he relation of landlord and tenant was one that should induce kind and confidential feelings. The Ravensnest property was by no means necessary to my comfortable subsistence; and I was really well enough disposed to look
forward, if not to " future generations," at least to a future
day, for the advantages that were to be reaped from 4. I
asked the crowd in, ordered a tub of punch made, fobr, in
that day, liquor was a necessary accompaniment of every
welcome, and endeavoured to make myself acceptable to
my new friends. A throng of women, of whom I have not
yet spoken, were also in attendance; and I had to go through
the ceremony of being introduced to many of the wives and
daughters of 1tavensnest. On the whole, the meeting was
friendly, and my reception warm.
CHAPTER X.
"Bear, through sorrow, wrong, and ruth,
In thy heart the dew of youth,
On thy lips the smile of truth."
LONGFELLOW.
THE ceremony of the introductions was not half through,
when there was a noisy summons to the pike-poles. This
called away the crowd in a body; a raising in the country
being an incident of too much interest to be overlooked. I
profited by the occasion to issue a few orders that related to
my own comfort, when I went, myself, to the scene of pre.
sent toil and future Congregationalism.
Everybody in America, a few inveterate cockneys ex.




130           rHE  C H AINBEARLR.
cepted,.have seen a "raising." Most people have seen
hundreds; and, as for myself, I believe I should be safe in
saying I had, even at that day, seen a thousand.  In this
articular. instance, there were great felicitations among the
yeomen, because the frame " had come together well."  I
was congratulated on this score, the hearty old Rhode
Islander, my brother major, assuring me that " he couldn't.
get the blade of his knife, and it's no great matter of a knife
either, into a single j'int. And, what is more,'squire" —
As the sturdy yeoman was a major himself, though only in
the militia, that title would not have been honourable enough
for his landlord-" And, what is more,'squire, they tell me
not a piece was ever tried, until we put the bents together,
this a'ternoon, ourselves!  Now, down country, I never
see'd sich a thing; but, up here, the carpenters go by what
they call the "square-rule;" and quick Wvork they make
on't!" This speech contained the substance of one of the
contrivances by which the'"new countries" were endeavouring to catch up with the "old," as I learned on farther
inquiries.
It may be well to describe the appearance of the place,
when I reached the site of the new " meetin'-us." The great
body of the " people" had just taken their stands at the first
bent, ready for a lift, while trusty men stood at the feet of'he posts, armed with crow-bars, broad-axes, or such other
suitable implements as offered, in readiness to keep those
essential uprights in their places; for, on the steadiness of
these persons, depended the limbs and lives of those who
raised the bent. As this structure was larger than common,
the danger was increased; and the necessity of having men
that could be relied on was obviously so much the greater.
Of one post, in particular, for some reason that I do not
know, all the trusty men seemed shy; each declaring that
he thought some one else better suited to take charge of it,
than he was himself. The " boss"-that Manhattanese word
having travelled up to Ravensnest-called out for some one
to take the delicate station, as nothing detained the work
but the want of a hand there' and one looked at another,
to see who would step forwr..d, when a sudden cry arose
of "the Chainbearer!- the Chainbearer! - Here's your
man i"




THE CPIAINBEARER.                   131
Sure enough, there came old Andries Coejemans, hale,
upright, vigorous, and firm-treading, though he had actually
seen his three-score years and ten.  My ancient comrade
had thrown aside nearly every trace of his late military
profession, though the marchings and drillings of eight
years were not to be worked out of a man's air and manner
in a twelvemonth.  The only sign of the soldier, other than
in his bearing, I could trace about my brother captain, was
the manner in which his queue was clubbed. Andries wore
his own hair; this his early pursuits in the forest rendered
necessary; but it had long been clubbed in a sort of military
fashion, and to that fashion he now adhered.  In other respects, he had transformed himself entirely into a woodsman.  He wore a hunting-shirt, like myself; leggings,
moccasins, and a cap of skins that had been deprived of
their furs.  So far from lessening, in any degree, the fine
effect of his green old age, however, this attire served to
increase it.  Andries Coejemans stood six feet, at seventy;
was still as erect as he had been at twenty; and so far from
betraying the inroads of age on his frame, the last appeared
to be indurated and developed by what it had borne. His
head was as white as snow, while his face had the ruddy,
weather-beaten colour of health and exposure. The face
had always been handsome, having a very unusual expression of candour and benevolence impressed on features that
were bold and manly.
The Chainbearer could not have seen me, until he stepped
upon the frame. Then, indeed, there was no mistaking the
expression of his countenance, which denoted pleasure and
friendly interest. Striding over the timber, with the step of
a man long. accustomed to tread among dangers of all sorts,
he grasped my hand, and gave it such a squeeze as denoted
the good condition of his own muscles and sinews. I saw
a tear twinkling in his eye;,for had I been his own son, I
do not think that he could have loved me more.
"Mortaunt, mny poy, you're heartily welcome," said my
old comrade. " You haf come upon t'ese people, I Fancy,.
as t'e cat steals upon t'e mice; but I had titings of your
march, and have peen a few miles town t'e roat to meet
you. How, or where you got past me, is more t'an I know
{or I haf seen nuttin' of you or of your wagon."




132           THE CI AINnEARER.
" Yet here we both are, my excellent old friend, and most
happy am I to meet you again. If you will go with me to
the tavern, we can talk more at our case."
"Enough, enough, for t'e present, young comrate. Pusiness is stanting still a little, for t'e want of' my hant; step
off the frame, lat, and let us get up t'ese pents, when I am
your man for a week or a year."
Exchanging looks, and renewing the warm and friendly
pressure of the hand, we parted for the moment; I quitting
the frame, while the Chainbearer went at once to the foot
of the important post, or to that station no one else would
assume. Then commenced, without further delay, the serious toil of raising a bent.  This work is seldom entirely
free from hazard; and, on this particular occasion, when
the force in men was a little disproportioned to the weight
of the timber, it was doubly incumbent on every man to be
true and steady.  My attention was at once attracted to the
business in hand; and, for several minutes, I thought of
little-else. The females had drawn as near the spot where
their husbands, brothers and lovers were exerting every
muscle and nerve, as comported with prudence; and a profound and anxious quiet pervaded the whole of a crowd that
was gay with rustic finery, if not very remarkable for taste
or refinement. Still, that cluster of females had little in it
that was coarse or even unfeminine, if it had not much that
would be so apt to meet the eye, in the way of the attractive,
in a similar crowd of the present day. The improvement in
the appearance and dress of the wives and daughters of
husbandmen, has been very marked among us within the
last five-and-twenty years. Fully one-half of those collected
on this occasion were in short-gowns, as they were called,
a garb that has almost entirely disappeared; and the pillions
that were to be seen on the bodies of nearly all the horses
that were fastened to the adjactnt fences, showed the man
ner in which they had reached the ground. The calicoes
of that day were both dear and homely; and it required
money to enable a woman to appear in a dress that would
be thought attractive to the least practised eye.  Nevertheless, there were many pretty girls in that row of anxious
faces, with black eyes and blue, light, black and brown




THE  CIIAINBEARER.                   133
hair, and of the various fobrms and hues in which female
beauty appears in the youthlul.
I flatter myself that I was as comely as the generality of
young men of my age and class, and that, on ordinary occasions, I could not have shown myself before that cluster
of girls, without drawing to myself' some of their glances.
Such was not the case, however, when I left the firtame,
which now attracted all eyes. On that, and on those
who surrounded it, every eye and every anxious face was
turned, my own included.  It was a moment of deep interest to all; and most so to those who could only feel,
and not act.
At the word, the men made a simultaneous effort; and
they raised the upper part of the bent from the timber on
which it lay.  It was easy to see that the labourers, stbut
and willing as they were, had as much as they could lift.
Boys stood ready, however, with short pieces of scantling
to place upright beneath the bent; and the men had time to
breathe.  I felt a little ashamed of having nothing to do at
such a moment; but, fearful of doing harm instead of good,
I kept aloof, and remained a mere spectator.
" Now, men," said the' boss,' who had taken his stand
where he could overlook the work, " we will make ready
for another lift.  All, at once, makes light work -are you
ready?-He-e-a-ve."
Heave, or lift, the stout fellows did; and with so much
intelligence and readiness, that the massive timber was carried up as high as their heads. There it stopped, supported
as before, by short pieces of scantling.
The pike-poles next came in play. This is always the
heaviest moment of a lift of that sort, and the men made
their dispositions accordingly.  Short poles were first got
under the bent, by thrusting the unarmed ends into the
cavity of the foundation; and a few of the stoutest of the
men stood on blocks, prepared to apply their strength
directly.
cc Are you ready, men?" called out the boss. " This is
our heaviest bent, and we come to it fresh.  Look out well
to the foot of each post - Chainbearer, I count on yoq -
your post is the king-post of the whole frame; if that goes,.12




134          T  E  CHAINBEARER.
all goes. Make ready, men; heave altogether - that's a
lift! Heave again, men - he-e-a-ve - altogether now -
he-e-a-ve! - Up she goes; he-e-a-ve - more pike-poles -
stand to the frame, boys-get along some studs —he-e-a-ve
-in with your props-so, catch a little breath, men."
It was time to take breath, of a certainty; for the effort
had been tremendously severe. The bent had risen, how.
ever, and now stood, supported as before by props, at an
angle of some fifteen degrees with the plane of the building,
which carried all but the posts beyond the reach of hands.
The pike.pole was to do the rest; and the next ten degrees
to be overcome would probably cause the greatest expenditure of force.  As yet, all had gone well, the only drawback being the certainty which had been obtained, that the
strength present was hardly sufficient to get up so heavy a
bent. Nevertheless, there was no remedy, every person on
the ground who could be of use, but myself, having his station. A well-looking, semi-genteel young man, whose dress
was two-thirds, forest and one-third town, had come from
behind the row of females, stepped upon the frame, and
taken his post at a pike-pole.  The uninitiated reader will
understand that those who raise a building necessarily stand
directly under the timber they are lifting; and, that a downfall would bring them beneath a fearful trap. Bents do
sometimes come down on the labourers; and the result is
almost certain destruction to those who are caught beneath
the timber. Notwithstanding the danger and the difficulty in
the present case, good-humour prevailed, and a few jokes
were let off at the expense of the Congregationalists and
the late moderator.' Agree,'squire," called out the hearty old Rhode Islander,
" to let in some of the other denominations occasionally, and
see how the bent will go up. Presbytery is holding back
desperately!"
"I hope no one supposes," answered Mr. Moderator,
"that religious liberty doosn't exist in this settlement.
Sartainly-sartainlzy-other denominations can always use
this house, when it isn't wanted by the right owners."
Those words "right owners" were unfortunate; the
stronger the right, the less the losing party liking to hear
4f it. NotwithstaLding, there was no disposition to skulk,




THE  CHAIN'BEARER.                   135
io to abandon the work; and two or three of the dissentients
took their revenge on the spot, by hits at the moderator.
Fearful that there might be too much talk, the boss now
renewed his call, for attention to the work.
"Let us all go together, men," he added.  " We've got
to the pinch, and must stand to the work like well-broke
cattle. If every man at the frame will do his best for just
one minute, the hardest will be over. You see that upright
stud there, with that boy, Tim Trimmer at it; just raise
the bent so that Timmy can get the eend of that stud under
it, and all will be safe. Look to the lower eend of the stud,
Tim; is it firm and well stopped?"
Tim  declared it was; but two or three of the men went
and examined it, and after making a few alterations, they
too assured the boss it could not get away. A short speech
was then made, in which everybody was exhorted to do his
best; and everybody, in particular, was reminded of the
necessity of standing to his work.  After that speech, the
men raised the pike-poles, and placed themselves at their
stations.  Silent expectation succeeded.
As yet, not a sign, look, or word, had intimated either
wish or expectation that I was to place myself in the ranks.
I will confess to an impulse to that effect; for who can look
on, and see their fellow-creatures straining every muscle,
and not submit to human sympathy? But, the recollections
of military rank, and private position, had not only their
claims, but their feelings.  I did gaa step or two nearer to
the frame, but I did not put my foot on it.
" Get ready, men" - called the boss, "for a last time.
Altogether, at the word - now's your time - he-e-a-ve —
he-e-e-a-ve - he-e-e-e-ave!"
The poor fellows did heave, and it was only top eviden
that they were staggering under the enormous pressure of
the massive timber. I stepped on the frame, at the very
centre, or at the most dangerous spot, and applied all my
strength to a pike-pole.
" Hurrah I" shouted the boss -" there comes the young
landlord!- he-e-ave, every man his best! - he-e-e-e-ave!"
We did heave our best. and we raised the bent several
feet above its former props, but not near enough to reach,he new ones, by an inch or two. Twenty voices now called




136           T IIE  CHAIN BEARER.
on every man to stand to his work; for everybody felt the
importance of even a boy's strength. The boss rushed
forward like a man to our aid; and then Tim, fancying his
stud would stand without his support, left it and flew to a
pike-pole. At this mistake the stud fell a little on one side,
where it could be of no use. My face was so placed that I
saw this dangerous circumstance; and I felt that the weight
I upheld, individually, grew more like lead at each instant.
I knew by th this that our force was tottering under the down.
ward pressure of the enormous bent.
" He-e.e-ave, men- for your lives, he-eave!" exclaimed
the boss, like one in the agony.
The tones of his voice sounded to me like those of des.
pair.  Had a single boy deserted us then, and we had
twenty of them on the frame, the whole mass o-f timber must
have come down upon us. Talk of charging into a battery!
What is there in that to try men's nerves, like the situation
in which we were placed? The yielding of a muscle, in all
that straining, Iifting body, might have ruined us. A most
fearful, frightful twenty seconds followed; and just as I had
abandoned hope, a young female darted out of the anxious,
pale-faced crowd, that was looking on in a terror and agony
that may be better conceived than described, and seizing the
stud, she placed it alongside of the post. But an inch was
wanted to gain its support; but how to obtain that inch! I
now raised my voice, and called on the fainting men to
heave. They obeyed;and I saw that spirited, true-eyed,
firm-handed girl place the prop precisely where it was want.
ed. All at that end of the bent felt the relief instantly, and
man after man cautiously withdrew from under the frame,
until none remained but those who upheld the other side.
We fleh to the relief of these, and soon had a number of
props in their places, when all drew back, and looked on
the danger from which'they had escaped, breathless and
silent.  For myself, I felt a deep sense of gratitude to God
for the escape.
This occurrence made a profound impression. Every
body was sensible of the risk that had been run, and of the
ruin that might have befallen the settlement.  I had caught
a glimpse of the rare creature, whose decision, intelligence
and presen. of mead had dance so much for as al{{ and Ca




THE CHAINBEARER.                     137
me she seemed to be the loveliest being of. her sex my eyes
had ever lighted on! Her form, in particular, was perfec.
tion; being the just medium between feminine delicacy and
rude health; or just so much of the last as could exist with.
out a shade of coarseness; and the little I saw of a counte.
nance that was nearly concealed by a maze of curls that
might welt be termed golden, appeared to me to correspond
admirably with that form. Nor was there anything niasculine or unseemly in the deed she had performed, to subtract
in any manner from the feminine character of her appear.
ance. It was decided, useful, and in one sense benevolent,
but a boy might have executed it, so far as physical force
was concerned. The act required coolness, intelligence and
courage, rather than any masculine power of body.
It is possible that, aware as I was of the jeopardy in which
we were all placed, my imagination may have heightened
the effect of the fair apparition that had come to save us, as
it might be, like a messenger from above. But, even there,
where I stood panting from the effect of exertions that I
have never equalled in my own case most certainly, ex.
hausted, nearly breathless, and almost unable to stand, my
mind's-eye saw nothing but the flexible form, the elastic,
ready step, the golden tresses, the cheek suffused by excitement, the charming lips compressed with resolution, and
the whole air, attitude and action, characterized, as was
each and all, by the devotion, readiness and loveliness of'her sex.'When my pulses Beat more regularhy, anh my
heart ceased to throb, I looked around in quest of that
strange vision, but saw no one who could, in the least, claim
to be connected with it. The females had huddled together,
like a covey that was frightened, and were exclaiming, hold.
ing up their handsi and indulging in the signs of alarm that
are customary with their sex and class. The " vision" was
certainly not in that group, but had vanished, as suddenly
as it had appeared.
At this juncture, the Chainbearer came forward, and took
the command. I could see he was agitated-affected might
be a better word -but he was, nevertheless, steady;and
lighted to see.  The orders of [the " boss" had produced no
such impressions as those which old Andries now issued;
1 2 *




138          THE CHAINBEARER.
and I really felt an impulse to obey them myself, as I would
have done eighteen months before, when he stood on the
right of our regiment, as its oldest captain.
The carpenter yielded his command to the Chainbearer
without a murmur. Even'squire Ngwcome evidently felt
that Andries was one who, in a certain way, could influence
the minds of the settlers more than he could doit himself.
In shldrt, everybody listened, everybody seemed pleased, and
everybody obeyed. Nor did my old friend resort to any of
the coaxing that is so common in America, when men are
to be controlled in the country. - In the towns, and wherever
men are to be commanded in bodies, authority is as well
understood as it is in any other quarter of the world; but,
in the interior, and especially among the people of New
England habits, very few men carry sufficient command
with them to say " John do this," or "John do that;" but
it is " Johnny why won't you do this?" or " Johnny don't
you think you'd better do that?"  The Chainbearer had
none of this mystified nonsense about him. He called things
by their right names; and when he wanted a spade, he did
not ask for a hoe. As a consequence, he was obeyed, command being just as indispensable to men, on a thousand occasions, as any other quality.
Everything was soon ready again, with the men stationed
a little differently from what they had previously been. This
change was the Chainbearer's, who understood mechanics
practically; better, perhaps, than if he had been a first-rate
mathematician. The word was given to heave,. all of us
being at the pike-poles; when up went the bent, as if borne
upon by a force that was irresistible.  Such was the effect
of old Andries' habits of command, which not only caused
every man to lift with all his might, but the whole to lift
together. A bent that is perpendicular is easily secured;
and then it was announced that the heaviest of the work
was over. The other bents were much lighter; and one up,
there were means of aiding in raising the rest, that were at
first wanting.
"The Congregationals has got the best on't," cried out
the old Rhode Islander, laughing, as soon as the bent was
stay-lathed, " by the help of the Chainbearer and somebody
else 1 wunt name! Well, our turn will come, some day;




THE  CHAINIEARER.                   139
for Ravensnest is a place in which the people wont be satisfied with one religion. A country is badly on't, that has
but one religion in't; priests getting lazy, and professors
dull!"
" You may be sure of t'at," answered the Chainbearer,
who was evidently making preparations to quit the frame.
"Ravensnest will get as many religions, in time, as t'ere
are discontented spirits in it; and t'ey will need many
raisings, and more priests."
"Do you intend to leave us, Chainbearer? There's more
posts to hold, and more bents to lift?"
"The worst is over, and you've force enough wit'out
me, for what remains to be tone. I haf t'e lantlort to
take care of. Go to your work, men; and, if' you can, rememper you haf a peing to worship in t'is house, t'at is
neit'er Congregational, nor Presbyterian, nor anything else
of the nature of your disputes and self-conceit.'Squire
Newcome wilt gif you a leat in t'e way of l'arning, and
t'e carpenter can act boss well enough for t'e rest of t'e
tay."
I. was surprised at the coolness with which my old friend
delivered himself of sentiments that were not very likely to
find favour in such a company, and the deference that he
received, while thus ungraciously employed. But, I afterwards ascertained Andries commanded respect by means.
of his known integrity; and his opinions carried weight
because he was a man who usually said "come boys," and
not one who issued his orders in the words " go boys."
This had been his character in the army, where, in his own
little circle, he was known as one ever ready to lead in
person. Then Andries was a man of sterling truth; and
such a man, when he has the moral courage to act up to
his native impulses, mingled with discretion enough to keep
him within the boundaries of common prudence, insensibly
acquires great influence over those with whom he is brought
in contact.  Men never fail to respect such qualities, how.
ever little they put them in practice in their own cases.
"Come, Morty, my poy," said the Chainbearer, as soon
as we were clear of the crowd, "I will pe your guite, ant
take you to a roof unter which you will pe master."
"You surely do not mean the'Nest l"




140           THE  CHAINBEAREBR.
"T'at, and no ot'er. T'e olt place looks, like us oIt
soltiers, a little rusty, and t'e worse for sarvice; put it is
comfortaple, and I haf had it put in order for you, poy.
Your grandfat'er's furniture is still t'ere; and Frank Mal.
pone, Dus and I, haf mate it heat-quarters, since we haf
peen in t'is part of t'e country. You know I haf your
orters for t'at."
" Certainly, and to use anything else that is mine. But
I had supposed you fairly hutted in the woods of Moose.
ridge!"
" T'at hast peen tone, too; sometimes we are at one place,
and sometimes at anot'er. My niggers are at t'e hut; put
Frank, and Dus and I haf come ofer to welcome you to
t'e country."
" I have a wagoner here, and my own black-let me step
to the inn, and order them to get ready for us."
" Mortaunt, you and I haf peen uset to our feet. The
soltier marches, and countermarches, wit' no wagon to carry
him; he leafs t'em to t'e paggage, and t'e paggage-guart."
"Come on, old Andries; I will be your comrade, on foot
or on horseback. It can only be some three or four miles,
and Jaap can follow with the trunks at his leisure."
A word spoken to the negro was all that was necessary;
though the meeting between him and the Chainbearer was
that of old friends. Jaap had gone through the whole war
with the regiment, sometimes acting as my father's servant,
sometimes carrying a musket, sometimes driving a team;
and, at the close of his career, as my particular attendant.
He consequently regarded himself as a sort of soldier, and
a very good one had he proved himself to be, on a great
many occasions.
"One word before we start, Chainbearer," I said, as old
Andries and Jaap concluded their greetings; " I fell in with
the Indian you used to call Sureflint, in the woods, and I
wish to take him with us."
" He hast gone aheat, to let your visit pe known," an.,wered my friend. "I saw him going up t'e roat, at a
quick trot, half an hour since. He is at t'e'Nest py t'is
time."
No more remained to be said or done, and we went our
way, leaving the people busily engaged in getting up the




THI   CHAINBEARER.                 141
remainder of the frame. I had occasion to observe that my
arrival produced much less sensation in the settlement than
it might have done, had not the " meeting-house" been my
competitor in attracting attention. One was just as much of
a novelty as the other; just as much of a stranger. Although
born in a Christian land, and educated in Christian dogmas,
very few of those who dwelt on the estate of Ravensnest,
and who were under the age of five-and-twenty, had ever
seen an edifice that was constructed for the purposes of
Christian worship at all. Such structures were rare indeed,
in the year 1784, and in the interior of New York. Albany.3w1t JA n' _J telie   u-ew A3e vPu7w62 -  basee And ru  daze
and most of the larger villages possessed at least one; but,
with the exception of the-eodcounties, and here and there
one on the Mohawk, the new State could not boast of many
of" those silent fingers pointing to the sky," rising among
its trees, so many monitors of a future world, and of the
great end of life. As a matter of course, all those who had
never seen a church, felt the liveliest desire to judge of the
form and proportions of this; and as the Chainbearer and I
passed the crowd of females, I heard several good-looking
girls expressing their impatience to see something of the;anticipated steeple, while scarce a glance was bestowed on.
myself.
"Well, my old friend, here we are together again, marching on a public highway," I remarked, "but with no intention of encamping in front of an enemy."
"I hope not," returned Andries, drily; "t'ough all is
not golt t'at glitters.  We have fought a hart battle, major
Littlepage; I hope it' will turn out for a goot end."
I was a little surprised at this remark; but Andries was
never very sanguine in his anticipations of good. Like a
true Dutchman, he particularly distrusted the immigration
from the eastern States, which I had heard him often say
could bring about no happy results.
" All will come round in the end, Chainbearer," I answered, " and we shall get the benefits of our toil and dangers. But, how do you come on at the Ridge, and who is
this surveyor of your's!"
"T'ings do well enough at t'e Ritge, Mortaunt; for t'erej,?ere is not a soul yet to make trouple.  We have prought




142           THE CHAINBEARER.
you a map of ten t'ousant acres, lait (off in hundret-acru
lots, which I will venture to say hl' peeon as honbstly ant
carefully measuret as any ot'er ten t'ousant acres in t'e
State.  We pegan next t tt'is property, ant you may pegin
to lease, on your fat'er's lant, just as soon as you please."
"And the Frank Malbone, you have written about, dilI
the surveying?"
"He worket up my measurements, lat, and closely tone
t'ey are, I'1t answer for it.  T'is Frank Malpone is t'e
brot'er of Dus — t'at is to say, her half-brot'er; peing no
nephew of mine.  Dus, you ktnow, is only a half-niece in
bloot; but she ist a full da'ter in lofe. As for Frank, he is
a goot fellow; and, t'ough t'is is his first jop at surfeying,
he may be dependet on wit' as much confitence as any ot'er
man going."
"  No matter if a few mistakes are made, Andfties; land
"is not diamonds in this country; there is plenty for us all,
iand a great deal to spare. It would be a different matter
mif there was a scarcity; but, as it is, give good measure to
the tenant or the purchaser. A first survey can only produce a little loss or gain; whereas, surveys between otd
farms are full of trouble."
" Ant lawsuits" —put in the Chainbearer, nodding his
head. " To tell you my mint, Mortaunt, I would rat'er take
a jop in a Dutch settlement, at half-price, t'an run a line
petween two Yankees for twice the money. Among the
Dutch, the owners light t'eir pipes, and smoke whilst you
are at work; but the Yankees are the whole time trying to
cut off a little here, and to gain a little t'ere; so t'at it is a,3
much as a man's conscience is wort' to carry a chain fairly
petween'em."
As I knew his prejudice on this subject formed the weak
point in the Chainbearer, I gave the discourse a new turn,
by leading it to political events, of which I knew him to be
fond.'We walked on, conversing on various topics connected with this theme, for near an hour, when I found myself
rather suddenly quite near to my own particular house.
Near by, the building had more of shape and substance
than it had seemed to possess when seen from the height;
and I found the orchards and meadows around it free fiom
stumps and other eye-sores, and in good order. Still, the




THE CIAIN B EARER.                   143
place, on its exterior, had a sort of gaol-look, there being
no windows, nor any other outlet than the door. On reaching the latter, which was a gate, rather than an ordinary
entrance, we paused a moment to look about us. While we
stood there, gazing at the fields, a form glided through the
opening, and Sureflint stood by my side. He had hardly
got there, when there arose the strains ofr the same full, rich
female voice, singing Indian words to a civilized melody, as
I had heard issuing from the thicket of pines, among the
second growth of the forest. From that moment I forgot
my fields and. orchards, forgot the Chainbearer and Sureflilt, and could think of nothing but of the extraordinary
circumstance of a native girl's possessing such a knowledge
cf our music. The Indian himself seemed entranced; never
moving until the song or verses were ended. Old Andries
smiled, waited until the last strain was finished, pronounced
tile word " Dus" with emphasis, and beckoned for me to
follow him into the building.
CHAPTER XI.
"The fault will be in the muic, cousin, if you be not wuo'd in
good time: if the prince be too important, tell him there is measure
for everything, and so dance out the answer."  Beatrice.
" Dus!" I repeated to myself —" This, then, is Dus, and
no Indian girl; the Chainbearer's' Dus;' Priscilla Bayard's' Dus;' and Sureflint's' wren!"'
Andries must have overheard me, in part; for he stopped
just within the court on which the gate opened, and said" Yes, t'at is Dus, my niece. The girl is like a mocking.
pird, and catches the songs of all languages and people.
She is goot at Dutch, and quite melts my heart, Mortaunt,
when she opens her throat to sing one of our melancholy
Dutch songs; and she gives the English too, as if she knowet
no ot'er tongue."
"But that song was Indian - the words, at least, were
Mohawk or Oneida."




144           TI E C HIN N  EA    R.
"Onondago-t'ere is little or no tifFerence.  Yes, you're
right enough; the worts are Indian, and they tell me t'e
music is Scotch.  Come from where it will, it goes Atraigh'
to the heart, poy."'" How came Dus-how came Miss Ursula-that is, your
niece, to understand an Indian dialect?"
" Didn't I tell you she is a perfect mocking-bird, and that
she imitates all she hears?  Yes, Dus would make as goot
a surveyor as her brot'er, after a week's trial.  You've
heart me say how much I livet among the tripes before t'e
war, and Dus was t'en wit' me. In that manner she has
caught the language; and what she has once l'arnet she
nefer forgets.  Dus is half wilt from living so much in the
woots, and you must make allowances for her; put she is
a capital gal, and t'e very prite of my heart!"
" Tell me one thing before we enter the house; —does
any one else sing Indian about here?- has Sureflint any
women with him?"
" Not he! -t'e creatur' hast not'ing to do wit' squaws.
As for any one else's singing Intian, I can only tell you I
never heart of such a person."
" But, you told me you were down the road to meet me
this morning-were you alone?"
"Not at all- we all went; Sureflint, Frank, Dus and I.
I t'ought it due to a lantlort, Mortaunt, to gif him a hearty
welcome; t'ough Dus did mutiny a little, and sait t'at
lantlort or no lantlort, it was not proper for a young gal
to go forth to meet a young man. I might have t'ought so
too, if it hadn't peen yourself, my poy; but, with you, I
couldn't play stranger, as one woult wit' a straggling Yan.
kee.  I wishet to welcome you wit' the whole family; put
1'11 not conceal Dus's unwillingness to pe of t'e party."
"But Dus was of your party! It is very odd we did not
meet!"
" Now, you speak of it, I do pelief it wast all owin' to a
scheme of t'at cunnin' gal! You must know, Mortaunt, a'ter
we had got a pit down t'e roat, she persuatet us to enter a'cke,..k t%  xr~\\s%, % %'%'n \% t% E' m'''nh     adh' h to pe i el
the cunnin' hussevjitlt dit it t'tnl,; m,' q_   psjn J.a. d
she safe her female dignity!"
" And from those pines Sureflint came, just after Dos, as




THE CHAINBEAEn.        R.            145
you call her, but Miss Ursula Malbone as I ought to style
her, had been singing this very song?"
" Wast you near enough to know all t'is, poy, and we
miss you! The gal dit sing t'at ferry song; yes, I rememper it; and a sweet, groot song it is.  Call her Miss Ursula
Malbone? —Why shouldn't you call her Dus, as well as
Frank and I?"
"For the simple reason that you are her uncle, and
Frank her brother, while I am a total stranger."
" Poh-poh-Morty; t'is is peing partic'lar.  I am only
a half-uncle, in the first place; and Frank is only a halfbrot'er; and I dares to say you wilt pe her whole frient.
T'en, you are not a stranger to any of t'e family, I can
tell you, lat; for I haf talket enough apout you to make bot'
t'e poy and t'e gal lofe you almost as much as I do myself."
Poor, simple-hearted, upright old Andries! What an
unpleasant feeling did he give me, by letting me into the
secret that I was about to meet persons who had been listening to his partial accounts for the last twelve months. It is
so difficult to equal expectations thus awakened; and I will
own that I had begun to be a little sensitive on the. subject
of this Dus.  The song had been ringing in my ears from
the moment I first heard it; and, now that it became associated with Priscilla Bayard's Ursula Malbone, the latter
had really become a very formidable person to my imagination.  There was no retreating, however, had I wished it;
and a sign induced the Chainbearer to proceed. Face the
young woman I must, and the sooner it was done the
better.
The Nest-houise, as my homely residence was termed,
had been a sort of fortress, or " garrison," in its day, having
been built around three sides of a parallelogram, with all its
windows.and doors opening on the court. On the fourth
side were the remains of pickets, or palisades, but they were
mostly rotted away, being useless as a fence, from the circumstance that the buildings stood on the verge of a low
cliff that, of itself, formed a complete barrier against the invasions of cattle, and no insignificant defence against those
of man.
The interior of the Nest-house was far more inviting than
13




146           THE CHAINBEARER.
its exterior.  The windows gave the court an appearance
of life and gaiety, at once converting that which was other.
wise a pile of' logs, thrown together in the form of a building, into a. habitable and inhabited dwelling.  One side of
this court, however, was much neater, and had much more
the air of comfort than the other; and towards the first
Andries led the way. I was aware that my grandfather
Mordaunt had caused a few rooms in this building to be
furnished for his own particular purposes, and that no orders
had ever been given to remove or to dispose of the articles
thus provided. I was not surprised, therefore, on entering
the house, to find myself in apartments which, while they
could not be called in any manner gaily or richly furnished,
were nevertheless quite respectably supplied with most of
the articles that are thought necessary to a certain manner
of living.
"We shall fint Dus in here, I dare say," observed the
Chainbearer, throwing open a door, and signing for me to
precede him. " Go in, and shake t'e gal's hand, Mortaunt;
she knows you well enough, name and natur', as a poty
may say."
I did go in, and found myself within a few feet of the fair,
golden-haired girl of the raising; she who had saved'the
frame from falling on us all, by a decision of mind and
readiness of exertion that partook equally of courage and
dexterity. She was in the same dress as when first seen by
me, though the difference in attitude and employment certainly gave her air and expression a very different character.
Ursula Malbone was now quietly occupied in Lemming ons
of those coarse checked handkerchiefs that the poverty of
her uncle compelled him, or at least induced him to use,
and of which I had seen one in his hands only a minute
before. On my entrance she rose, gravely but not discourteously answering my bow with a profound curtsey.  Nei.
ther spoke, though the salutes were exchanged as between
persons who felt no necessity for an introduction in order to
know each other.
" Well, now," put in Andries, in his strongest Dutch ac.
cent, " t'is wilt never do, ast petween two such olt frients.
Come hit'er, Dus, gal, and gif your hant to Mortaunt Little
page, who ist a sort of son of my own."




TIHE CHAINBEARER.                    147
Dus obeyed, and I had the pleasure of holding her soft
velxet-like hand in mine for one moment. I felt a gratification I cannot describe in finding the hand was so soft,
since the fact gave me the assurance that necessity had not
yet reduced her to any of the toil that is unsuited to a gen.
tlewoman. I knew that Andries had slaves, his only posses.
sion, indeed, besides his compass, chains and sword, unless
a few arms and some rude articles of the household were
excepted; and these slaves, old and worn out as they must
be by this time, were probably the means of saving the
niece from the performance of offices that were menial.
Although I got the hand of Ursula Malbone, I could not
catch her eye.  She did not avert her face, neither did she
affect coldness; but she was not at her ease. I could readily
perceive that she would have been better pleased had her
uncle permitted the salutations to be limited to the bows and
curtsies. As I had never seen this girl before, and could
not have done anything to offend her, I ascribed the whole
to mauvaise honte, and the embarrassment that was natural
enough to one who found herself placed in a situation so
different from that in which she had so lately been. I
bowed on the hand, possibly gave it a gentle pressure in
order to reassure its owner, and we separated.
"Well-, now, Dus, haf you a cup of tea for the lantlortto welcome him to his own house wit'?" demanded Andries,
perfectly satisfied with the seemingly amicable relations he
had established between us. "T'e major hast hat a long
march, for peaceable times, and woult pe glat to get a little
refreshment."
"You call me major, Chainbearer, while you refuse to
accept the same title fbr yourself."
"Ay, t'ere ist reason enough for t'at. You may lif to be
a general; wilt probably be one before you're t'irty; but I
am an olt man, now, and shall never wear any ot'er uniform than this I have on again. I pegan t'e worlt in this
corps, Morty, and shall end it in the rank in which I began."
"I thought you had been a surveyor originally, and that
you fell back on the chain because you had no taste for
figures. I think I have heard as much from yourself."
"Yes, t'at is t'e fact. Figures and I didn't agree; nor




t48           THE CHAINBEARER.
do I like'em any petter at seventy t'an' I liket'em at seventeen. Frank Malbone, now, Dus' brother, t'ere, ist a lat
that takes to'em nat'rally, and he works t'rough a sum
ast your fat'er would carry a battalion t'rough a ravine.
Carrying chain I like; it gives sufficient occupation to t'e
mind; put honesty is the great quality for the chainbearer,
They say figures can't lie, Mortaunt; but t'is is not true
wit' chains; sometimes they do lie, desperately."
"Where is Mr. Francis Malbone?  I should be pleased
to make his acquaintance."
" Frank remainet pehint to help'em up with their tim.
ber. He is a stout chap, like yourself, and can lent a hant;
while, poor fellow! he has no lantlort-tignity to maintain;"
I heard a gentle.sigh from Dus, and involuntarily turned
my head; for she was occupied directly behind my chair.
As if ashamed of the weakness, the spirited girl coloured,
and for the first time in my life I heard her voice, the two
instances of the Indian songs excepted. I say heard her
voice; for it was an event to record. A pleasant voice, in
either sex, is a most pleasant gift from nature. But the
sweet tones of Ursula Malbone were all that the most fastidious ear could have desired; being full, rich, melodious,
yet on the precise key that best satisfies the taste, bringing
with it assurances of a feminine disposition and regulated
habits. I detest a shrill, high-keyed female voice, more than
that of a bawling man, while one feels a contempt for those
who mumble their words in order to appear to possess a
refinement that the very act itself contradicts. Plain, direct,
but regulated utterance, is indispensable to a man or woman
of the world; anything else rendering him or her mean or
affected.
" I was in hopes," said Dus, " that evil-disposed frame was
tip and secured, and that I should see Frank in a minute or
two.  I was surprised to see you working so stoutly for the
Presbyterians, uncle Chainbearer!"
" I might return t'e compliment, and say I wast surpriset
to see you doing the same t'ing, Miss Dus! Pesides, the
tenomination is Congregational, and not Prespyterian; and
one is apout as much to your taste as t'e ot'er."
"The little I did was for you, and Frank, and - Mr
Littlepage, with all the rest who stood under the frame."




THE CHAINBEARER.                    149
"I am sure, Miss Ursula," I now put in,," we all ought,
and I trust we all do feel truly grateful fobr your timely aid.
Had that timber come down, many of us must have been
killed, and more maimed."
" It was not a very feminine exploit," answered the girl,
smiling, as I thought, a little bitterly. "But one gets accustomed to being useful in the woods."
"Do you dislike living in the forest, then?" I ventured
to ask.
" Certainly not. I like living anywhere that keeps me
near uncle Chainbearer, and Frank. They are all to me,
now my excellent protectress and adviser is no more; and
their home is my home, their pleasure my pleasure, their
happiness mine."
This might have been said in a way to render it suspi.
cious and sentimental; but it was not. On the contrary, it
was impulsive, and came from the heart.- I saw by the
gratified look of Andries that he understood his niece, and
was fully aware how much he might rely on the truthful
character of the speaker. As for the girl herself, the moment she had given utterance to what she felt, she shrunk
back, like one abashed at having laid bare feelings that
ought to have been kept in the privacy of her own bosom.
Unwilling to distress her, I turned the conversation in a
way to leave her to herself.
1" Mr. Newcome seems a skilful manager of the multi.
tude," I remarked. " He contrived very dexterously to give
to the twenty-six Congregationalists he had with him the
air of being a majority of the whole assembly; while, in
truth, they were barely a third of those present."
" Let Jason Newcome alone for t'at 1" exclaimed Andries.
"He unterstants mankint, he says, and sartainly he hast a
way of marching and countermarching just where he pleases
wit' t'ese people, makin''em t'ink t'e whole time t'ey are
doing just what t'ey want to do. It ist an art! major-it ist
an art!'"
"I should think it must be, and one worth possessing; if,
indeed, it can be exercised with credit."
"Ay, t'ere's the rub! Exerciset it is; but as for t'e creJit, t'at I will not answer for. It sometimes makes me
angry, and sometimes it makes me laugh, when I look on,
13*




150          THE CHAINBEARER.
and see t'e manner in which Jason makes t'e people rule
t'emselves, and how he wheels'em  apout, and faces'em,
and t'rows'em into line, and out of line, at t'eir own wort of
commant! -His Excellency coult hartly do more wit' us,
a'ter t'e Baron* had given us his drill."
"There must be some talent necessary, in order to posa.
sess so much influence over one's fellow-creatures."
" It is a talent you woult be ashamet to exercise, Mottaunt Little.page, t'ough you hat it in cart-loats. No man
can use such a talent wit'out peginning wit' lying and deceifing; and you must be greatly changet, major, if you
are at the he't of your class, in such a school."
" I am sorry to see, Chainbearer, that you have no better
opinion of my agent; I must look into the matter a little,
when this is the case."
"You wilt fint him law-honest enough; for he swears
py t'e law, and lifs py t'e law. No fear for your tollars,
poy; t'ey pe all safe, unless inteet, t'ey haf all vanishet in
t'e law."
As Andries was getting more and more Dutch, I knew he
was growing more and more warm, and I thought it might
be well to defer the necessary inquiries to a cooler moment.
This peculiarity I have often observed in most of those who
speak English imperfectly, or with the accent of some other
tongue. They fall back, as respects language, to that nearest
to nature, at those moments when natural feeling is asserting
its power over them, the least equivocally.
I now began to question the Chainbearer concerning the
condition in which he found the Nest-house and farm, over
which I had given him full authority, when he came to
the place, by a special letter to the agent. The people in
possession were of very humble pretensions, and had been
content to occupy the kitchen and servants' rooms, ever
since my grandfather's death, as indeed they had done long
before that event. It was owing to this moderation, as well
as to their perfect honesty, that I found nothing embezzled,
and most of the articles in good condition. As for the farm,
* This allusion is evidently to a German officer, wh, irtrllce4
the Prussian drill into the American army, Baron Steuben —.r Situ.ben, as I think he must have been called in Germany-.-Steuben, i.
be is universally termed in this country. - EDITOR.




THE CHAZIfB EARER.                   151
it had flourished, on the " let alone" principle. The orchards
had grown, as a matter of course; and if the fields had not
been improved by judicious culture, neither had they been
exhausted by covetous croppings. In these particulars there
was nothing of which to complain. Things might have been
better, Andries thought; but, he also thought it was exceedingly fortunate they were no worse. While we were conversing on this theme, Dus moved about the room silently,
but with collected activity, having arranged the tea-table
with her own hands. When invited to take our seats at iteverybody drew near to a tea-table in that day, unless when
there was too large a party to be accommodated — I was
surprised to find everything so perfectly neat, and some
things rich.'The plates; knives, &c., were of good quality,
but the tray was actually garnished with a set of old-fashion~
ed silver, such as was made when tea was first used, of
small size, but very highly chased. The handles of the
spoons represented the stem of the tea-plant, and there was
a crest on each of them; while a full coat of arms was
engraved on the different vessels of the service, which were
four in all. I looked at the crest, in a vague but surprised
expectation of finding my own. It was entirely new to me.
Taking the cream-jug in my hand, I could recall no arms
resembling those that were engraved on it.
"I was surprised to find this plate here," I observed;
"for, though my grandfather possessed a great deal of it,
for one of his means, I did not think he had enough to be
as prodigal of it as leaving it here would infer. This is
family plate, too; but those arms are neither Mordaunt nor
Littlepage. May I ask to whom they do belong?"
" The Malpones," answered the Chainbearer. " T'e t'ings
are t'e property of Dus."
" And you may add, uncle Chainbearer, that they are all
her property" —added the girl, quickly.
"I feel much honoured in being permitted to use them,
Miss Ursula," I remarked; "for a very pretty set they
make."
"Necessity, and not vanity, has brought them out to-day.
broke the only tea-pot of yours there was in the house this
morning, and was in hopes Frank would have brought up
one from the store to supply its place, before it would be




152           THE  C HAI BEARER.
wanted; but he does not come. As for spoons, I can find
none belonging to the house, and we use these constantly.
As the tea-pot was irrdispensable, I thought I might as well
display all my wealth at once.  But, this is the first time
the things have been used in many, many years!"
There was a plaintive melody in Dus's voice, spite of her
desire and her effort to speak with unconcern, that I found
exceedingly touching. While few of us enter into the exultation of' successful vulgarity, as it rejoices in its too often
random prosperity, it is in nature to sympathize with a
downward progress, and with the sentiments it leaves, when
it is connected with the fates of the innocent, the virtuous,
And the educated.  That set of silver was all that remained
to Ursula Malbone of a physical character' and which
marked the former condition of her family; and doubtless
she cherished it with no low feeling of morbid pride, but as
a melancholy monument of a condition to which all her
opinions, tastes and early habits constantly reminded her
she properly belonged. In this last point of view, the sentiment was as respectable, and as much entitled to reverence, as in the other case it would have been unworthy, and
meriting contempt.
There is a great deal of low misconception, as well as a
good deal of cant, beginning to prevail among us, on the
subject of the qualities that mark a gentleman, or a lady.
The day has gone by, and I trust for ever, when the mere
accidents of birth are to govern such a claim; though the
accidents of birth are very apt to supply the qualities that
really form the caste. For my own part, I believe in the
exaggerations of neither of the two extremes that so stubbornly maintain their theories on this subject; or, that a
gentleman may not be formed exclusively by.birth on the
one hand, and that the severe morality of the bible on the
other is by no means indispensable to the character.  A
man may be a very perfect gentleman, though by no means
a perfect man, or a Christian; and he may be a very good
Christian, and very little of a gentleman.  It is true, there
is a connection in manners, as a result, between the Christian and the gentleman; but it is in the result, and not in
the motive. That Christianity has little necessary connec-.
tion with the character of a gentleman, may be seen in the




THE CHAINBEARER.                        153
fact that the dogmas of the first teach us to turn another
cheek to him who smites; while the promptings of the gentleman are-not to wipe out the indignity in the blood of the
offender, but -to show that rather than submit to it, he is
ready to risk his own life.*
Bult I repeat, there is no necessary connection between
the Christian and the gentleman, though the last who is the
first attains the highest condition of humanity.  Christians;
under the influence of their educations and habits, often do
things that the code of the gentleman rejects; while it is
certain that gentlemen constantly commit unequivocal sins.
The morality of the gentleman repudiates meannesses and
low vices, rather than it rigidly respects the laws of God;
while the morality of the Christian is unavoidably'raised or
depressed by the influence of the received opinions of his
social caste. I am not maintaining that " the ten commandments were not given for the obedience of people of quality,"
for their obligations are universal; but, sirhply, that the'qualities of a gentleman are the best qualities of man unaided by God, while the graces of the Christian come directly
from his mercy.
Nevertheless, there is that in the true character of a- gentleman that is very much to be respected. In addition to the
great indispensables of tastes, manners and opinions, based
on intelligence and cultivation, and all those liberal qualities
that mark his caste, he cannot and does not stoop to meannesses of any sort.  He is truthful out of self-respect, and
not in obedience to the will of God; free with his money,
because liberality is an essential feature of his habits, and
not in imitation of the self-sacrifice of Christ; superior to
* Mr. Mordaufit Littlepage would seem to have got hold of the only
plausible palliative for a custom.that originated in those times when
abuses could only be corrected by the strong arm; and which, in our
own days, is degenerating into the merest system of chicanery and
trick. The duellist who, in his "practice," gets to be " certain death
to a shingle," and then misses his man, instead of illustrating his
chivalry, merely lets the world into the secret that his nerves are not
equal to his drill! There was something as respectable as anything
can be in connection with a custom so silly, in the conduct of the
Englishman who called out to his adversary, a near.sighted man.
" that if he wished to shoot at himn, he must turn his pistol in another
lirection." - EDITOR.




154           THE  CHAINBEARER.
scandal and the vices of the busy-body, inasmuch as they
are low and impair his pride of character, rather than be.
cause hle has been commanded not to bear false witness
against his neighbour.  It is a great mistake to confound
these two characters, one of which is a mere human embellishment of the ways of a wicked world, while the other
draws near to the great end of human existence. The last
is a character I revere; while I am willing to confess that
I never meet with the first without feeling how vacant and
repulsive society would become without it; unless, indeed,
the vacuum could be filled by the great substance, of which,
after all, the gentleman is but the shadow.
Ursula Malbone lost nothing in my respect by betraying
the emotion she did, while thus speaking of this relic of old
family plate. I was glad to find, however, that she could
retain it; for, though dressed in no degree in a style unbecoming her homely position as her uncle's housekeeper,
there were a'neatness and taste in her attire that are not
often seen in remote parts of this country. On this subject,'
the reader will indulge my weaknesses a little, if I pause to
say a word.  Ursula had neither preserved in her dress the
style of one of her sex and condition in the world, nor yet
entirely adopted that common to girls of the class to which
she now seemingly belonged. It struck me that some of
those former garments that were the simplest in fashion,
and the most appropriate in material, had been especially
arranged for present use; and sweetly becoming were they,
to one of her style of countenance and perfection of form.
In that day, as every one knows, the different classes of
society - and, kingdom or republic, classes do, and ever
will exist in this country,. as an incident of civilization; a
truth every one can see as respects those below, though his
vision may be less perfect as respects those above him
but, every one knows that great distinctions in dress existed,
as between classes, all over the Christian world, at the close
of the American war, that are fast disappearing, or have
altogether disappeared. Now, Ursula had preserved just
enough of the peculiar attire of her own class; to let one
understand. that she, in truth, belonged to it, without render
ing the distinction obtrusive.  Indeed, the very character
of that which she did preserve, sufficiently told the story of




THE  CHAINBEARER                    155
her origin, since it was a subdued, rather than an exaggerated imitation of that to which she had been accustomed,
as would nave been the case with a mere copyist. I can
only add, that the effect was to render her sufficiently
charming.
" Taste t'ese cakes," said old Andries, who, without the
slightest design, did love to exhibit the various merits of his
niece —" Dus mate t'em, and I'll engage Matam Washing.
ton, herself, couldn't make pleasanter!"
" If Mrs. Washington was ever thus employed," I an.
swered, " she might turn pale with envy here. Better cakes
of the sort I never ate."
"' Of the sort is well added, Mr. Littlepage," the girl
quietly observed; "my protectress and friend made me
rather skilful in this way, but the ingredients are not to be
had here as they were in her family."
" Which, being a boarding-school for young ladies, was
doubtless better supplied than common, with the materials
and knowledge necessary for good cakes."
Dus laughed, and it startled me, so full of a wild but
subsued melody did that laugh seem to be.
" Young ladies have many foibles imputed to them, of
which they'are altogether innocent," was her answer.
"Cakes were almost forbidden fruit in the school, and we
were taught to make them in pity to the palates of the
men."
" Your future huspants, gal," cried the Chainbearer, rising
to quit the room.
" Our fathers, brothers and uncles," returned his niece,
laying an emphasis on the last word.
"' I believes Miss Ursula," I resumed, as soon as Andries
had left us alone, " that I have been let behind the curtain
as respects your late school, having an acquaintance, of a
somewhat particular nature, with one of your old schoolfellows."
My companion did not answer, but she fastened those
fascinating blue eyes of her's on me, in a way that asked a
hundred questions in a moment. I could not but see that
they were suffused with tears; allusions to her school often
producing that effect.
" I meatn Miss Priscilla Bayard, who would seem to be,




156          THE CIIAINBEARER.
or to have been, a very good friend of your's," I added, oh.
serving that my companion was not disposed to say any
thing.
" Pris. Bayard!" Ursula now suffered to escape her, in
her surprise —" and she an acquaintance of' a somewhat
particular nature!"
" My language has been incautious; not to say that of a
coxcomb. Certainly, I am not authorized to say more than
that ourfamilies are very intimate, and that there are some
particular reasons for that intimacy.  I beg you to read
only as I have Corrected the error."
" I do not see that the correction changes things much;
and you will let me say I am grieved, sadly grieved, to
learn so much."
This was odd! That Dus really meant what she said,
was plain enough by a face that had actually lost nearly all
of its colour, and which expressed an emotion that was most
extraordinary.  Shall I own what a miserably conce-ited
coxcomb I was for a single moment?  The truth must be
said, and I will confess it. The thought that crossed my
mind was this:- Ursula Malbone is pained at the idea that
the only man whom she had seen fbr a year, and who could,
by possibility, make any impression on one of her education
and tastes, was betrothed to another! Under ordinary.cir.
c'umstances, this precocious preference might have caused
me to revolt at its exhibition; but there was far too much
of nature in all of Dus's emotions, acts and language, to pro.
duce any other impression on me than that of intense in.
terest. I have always dated the powerful hold that this girl
so soon obtained on my heart, to the tumult of feeling
awakened in me, at that singular moment.  Love at first
sight may be ridiculous, but it is sometimes true.  That a,.assion may be aroused by a glance, or a smile, or any
other of those secret means of conveying sympathy with
which nature has supplied us, I fully believe; though its
duration must depend on qualities of a higher and more
permanent influence.  It is the imagination that is first excited; the heart coming in for its share by later and less,erceptible degrees.
My delusion, however, did not last long. Whether Ur.
sula Malbone was conscious of the misconstruction to which




TIIE CHAINBEARER.                    157
she was liable, I cannot say; but I rather think not, as she
was much too innocent to dread evil; or whether she saw
some other necessity for explaining herself remains a secret
with me to this hour; but explain she did. How judiciously
this was done, and with how much of that female tact that
taught hft to conceal the secrets of her friend, will appear
to those who are sufficiently interested in the subject to pur.
sue it.
CHAPTER XII.
UHere come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love
Accompany your hearts!"
Midsummer-Night's Dream.
" I OUGHT not to leave you in any doubts as to my mean.:ng, Mr. Littlepage," resumed Ursula, after a short pause.
" Priscilla Bayard is very dear to me, and is well worthy
of all your love and admiration —"' Admiration if you please, and as much as you please,
Miss Ursula; but there is no such feeling as love, as yet
certainly, between Miss Bayard and myself."
The countenance of Dus brightened sensibly. Truth her.
self, she gave immediate credit to what I said; and I could
not but see that she was greatly relieved from some unaccountable apprehension. Still, she smiled a little archly,
and perhaps a little sadily, as she continued,"' As yet, certainly,' is very equivocal on your side, when
a young woman like Priscilla Bayard is concerned. It may
at any moment be converted into' nQw, certainly,' with that
certainty the other way."'"I will not deny it.  Miss Bayard is a charming creature-yet, I do not know how it is-there seems to be a fate,
in these things. The peculiar relation to Which I alluded,
and alluded so awkwardly, is nothing more than the engagement of my youngest sister to her brother. There is no
secret in that engagement. so I shall not affect to conceal
14




158          TI E CI AIN  E A R E R.
"An] it is just such an engagement as might lead to one
between yourself and Priscilla!" exclaimed Dus, certainly
not without alarm.
"It might, or it might not, as the parties happen to view
such things. With certain temperaments it might prove an
inducement; while, with others, it would not."
"' My interest in the subject," continued Dus, " proceeds
altogether from  the knowledge I have that another has
sought Miss Bayard; and I will own with my hearty good
wishes for his success. You struck me as a most formidable rival; nor db you seem any the less so, now I know that
your iamilies are to be connected."
"Have no fears on my account, for I am as heart-whole
as the dav I first saw the lady."
A flash of intelligence -a most meaning flash it was -
gleamed on the handsome face of my companion; and it
was followed by a mournful, though I still thought not an
entirely dissatisfied smile.
" These are matters about which one had better not say
much," Dus added, after a pause. "My sex has its'peculiar rights,' and no woman should disregard them. You
have been fortunate in finding all your tenants collected together, Mr. Littlepagg, in a way to let you see them at a
single glance."
" I was fortunate in one sense, and a most delightful introduction I had to the settlement-such an introduction as
I would travel another hundred miles to have repeated."
" Are you, then, so fond of raisings?-or, do you really
love excitement to such a degree'as to wish to get under a
trap, like one of the poor rabbits my uncle sometimes
takes?"
" I am not thinking of the raising, or of the frame; al.
though your courage and presence of mind might well indelibly impress both on my mind" - Dus looked down, and
the colour mounted to her temples -" but, I was thinking
of a certain song, an Indian song, sung to Scotch music,
that I heard a few miles from the clearings, and which was
my real introduction to the pleasant things one may both
hear and see, in this retired part of the world."
" Which is not so retired after all, that flattery cannot
Penetrate it, I find.  It is pleasant to hear one's songs ex



THE  CHAINBEARER.                     159
tolled, even though they may be Indian; but, it is not half
so pleasant as to hear tidings of Priscilla Bayard. If you
wish truly to charm my ear, talk of her!"
"The attachment seems mutual, for I can assure youL
Miss Bayard manifested just the same interest in you."
" In me! Priscilla then remembers a poor creature like
me, in her banishment from  the world! Perhaps she re.
niembers me so much the more, because I am banished.  I
hope she does not, cannot think I regret my conditionthat, I could hardly forgive her."
"I rather think she does not; I know she gives you
credit for more than common excellencies."
"It is strange that Priscilla Bayard should speak of me
lo you! I have been a little unguarded myself, Mr. Littlepage, and' have said so much, that I begin to feel the necessity of saying something more. There is some excuse for
my not feeling in your presence as in that of a stranger;
since uncle Chainbearer has your name in his mouth at
least one hundred times each day. Twelve different times
in one hour did he speak of you yesterday."
"Excellent old Andries! It is the pride of my life that
so honest a man loves me; and now for the explanation I
am entitled to receive as his friend, by your own acknow.
ledgment."
Dus smiled, a little saucily I thought-but saucily or not,
that smile made her look extremely lovely. She reflected a
moment, like one who thinks intensely, even bending her
head under the painful mental effort; then she drew her
form to its usual attitude, and spoke.
"It is always best to be frankl," she said, " and it can do
no harm, while it may do good, to be explicit with you.
You will not forget, Mr. Littlepage, that I believe myself to
be conversing with my uncle's very best friend?"
"I am too proud of the distinction to forget it, under any
circumstances; and least of all in your presence."
" Well, then, I will be frank. Priscilla Bayard was, for
eight years, my associate and closest friend.  Our affection
for each other commenced when we were mere children,
and increased with time and knowledge.  About a year before the close of the xvtr, my brother Frank, who is now
here as my uncle's surveyor, folund opportunities to quit his




160           THE CHAINBEARER.
regiment, and to come to visit me quite frequently —indeed,
his company was sent to Albany, where he could see me as
often as he desired.  To see me, was to see Priscilla; for
we were inseparable; and to see Priscilla was, for poor
Frank at least, to love her. He made me his confidant, and
my alarm was nothing but natural concern lest he might
have a rival as formidable as you."
A flood of light was let in upon me by this brief explana.
tion, though I could not but wonder at the simplicity, or
strength of character, that induced so strange a confidence.
When I got to know Dus better, the whole became clear
enough; but, at the moment, i was a little surprised.' Be at ease on my account, Miss Malbone-  "
"Why not call me Dus at once? —You will do it in a
week, like every one else here; and it is better to begin our
acquaintance as I am sure it will end.  Uncle Chainbearer
calls me Dus; Frank calls me Dus; most of your settlers
call me Dus, to my very face; and even our blacks call me
Miss Dus.  You cannot wish to be singular."
"I will gladly venture so far as to call you Ursula; but
Dus does not please'me."
" No! - I have become so accustomed to be called Dus
by all my friends, that it sounds distant to be called by any
other name. Do you not think Dus a pretty diminutive?"
" I did not, most certainly; though all these things depend on the associations. Dus Malbone sounded sweetly
enough in Priscilla Bayard's mouth; but I fear it will not
be so pleasant in mine."
" Do as you please-but do not call me MIiss Ursula, or
Miss Malbone. It would have displeased me once, not to
have been so addressed by any man; but it has an air of
mockery, now that I know myself to be only the companion
and housekeeper of a poor chainbearer."'" And yet, the owner of that silver, the lady I see seated
at this table, in this room, is not so very inappropriately
addressed as Miss Ursula!"
" You know the history of the silver, and the table and
room are your own. No -Mr. Littlepage, we are poor -
very, very poor —uncle Chainbearer, Frank and I —all
alike, have nothing."




THE CHAINBEARER.                    161
This was not said despairingly, but with a sincerity that! found exceedingly touching.
"Frank, at least, should have something" -I answered.
"You tell me he was in the army?"' He was a captain at the last, but what did he receive
for that? We do not complain of the country, any of us;
neither my uncle, my brother, nor myself; for we know it
is poor, like ourselves, and that its poverty even is like our
own, that of persons reduced I was long a charge on my
friends, and there have been debts to pay.  Could I have
known it, such a thing should not have happened. Now I
can only repay those who have discharged these obligations
by coming into the wilderness with them. It. is a terrible
thing for-a woman to be in debt."
" But, you have remained in this house; you surely have
not been in the hut, at Mooseridge!"
",I have.gone wherever uncle Chainbearer has gone, and
shall go with him, so long as we both live. Nothing shall
ever separate us again.  His years demand this, and grati.
tude is added to my love. Frank might possibly do better
than work for the little he receives; but he will not quit us.
The poor love each other intensely!"
" But I have desired your uncle to use this house, and
for your sake I should think he would accept the offer."'
" How could he, and carry chain twenty miles distant?
We have been here, occasionally, a few days at a time;
but the work was to be done, and it must be done on the
land itself."
"Of course, you merely gave your friends the pleasure
of your company, and looked a little to their comforts, on
their return from a hard day's work?"
Dus raised her eyes to'mine; smiled; then she looked
sad, her under-lip quivering slightly; after which a smile
that was not altogether without humour succeeded. I watch.
ed these signs of varying feeling with an interest I cannot
describe; for the play of virtuous and ingenuous emotion on
a lovely female countenance is one of the rarest sights in
nature.
" I can carry chain" - said the girl, at the close of this
exhibition of feeling.
14*




162          THE CtIAINBEARER.
"' You cal carry chain, Ursula-Dus, or whatever I am
to call you —"
" Call me Dus-I love that name best."
"' You can carry chain, I suppose is true enough - but
you do not mean that you have?"
The face of Dus flushed; but she looked me full in the
eye, as she nodded her head to express an affirmative; and
she smiled as sweetly as ever woman smiled.
"For amusement-to say you have done it-in jest!"
"To help my uncle and brother, who had not the means
to hire a second man."
"Good God! Miss Malbone-Ursula-Dus-"'
"The last is the most proper name Ibr a Chainbearess,"
rejoined the girl, smiling; and actually taking. my hand by
an involuntary movement of her sympathy in' the shock I so
evidently felt —" But, why should you look upon that little
toil as so shocking, when it is healthful and honpst? You
are thinking of a sister reduced to what strikes you as man's
proper work."
Dus relinquished my hand almost as soon as she had
touched it; and she did it with a slight start, as if shocked
at her own temerity.
" What is man's work, and man's work, only."
" Yet, woman can perform it; and, as uncle Chainbearer
will tell you, perform it well. I had no other concern, the
month I was at work, than the fear that my strength would
not enable me to do as much as my uncle and brother, and
thus lessen the service they could render you each day.
They kept me on the dry land, so there were no wet feet,
and your woods are as'clear of underbrush as an'orchard.
There is no use in attempting to.conceal the fact, for it is
known to many, and would have reached your ears sooner
or later. Then concealment is always painful to me, and
never more so than when I hear you, and see you treating
your hired servant as an equal."
" Miss Malbone!-For God's sake, let me hear no more
of this -old Andries judged rightly of me, in wishing to
conceal this; for I should never have allowed it to go on for
a moment."
" And in what manner could you have prevented it, major
Littlepage? My uncle has taken the business of you at so




THE  CIAINBEARE..   R.              163
much:he day, finding surveyor and labourers - poor dear
Frank! fie, at least, does not rank with the labourers,
and as for my uncle, he has long had an honest pride in
being the best chainbearer in the country - why need his
niece scruple about sharing in his well-earned reputation?"
"But you, Miss Malbone-dearest Dus-who have been
so educated, who are born a lady, who are loved by Pris.
cilla Bayard, the sister of Frank, are not in your proper
sphere, while thus occupied."
" It is not so easy to say what is the proper sphere of a
woman. I admit it ought to be, in general, in the domestic
circle, and under the domestic roof; but circumstances must
control that. We hear of wives who follow their husbands
to the camp, and we hear of nuns who come out of their
convents'to attend thile siclk and wounded in hospitals.  It
does not strike me, then, as so bad in a girl who offers to
aid her parer, as I have aided mine, when the alternative
was to suffer by want."
"Gracious Providence!  And Andries has kept me in
ignorance of all this! He knew my purse would have been
his, and how could you have been in' want in the midst of
the abundance that reigns in this settlement, which is only
fifteen or twenty miles from your hut, as I know from the
Chainbearer's letters.".
" Food is plenty, I allow, but we had no money; and
when the question was between beggary or exertion, we
merely chose the last. My uncle did try old Killian, the
black, for a day, but you know how hard it is to make one
of those people understand anything that is a little intricate;
and then I offered my services. I am intelligent enough, I
trust" -the girl smiled a little proudly as she said this —
"and you can have no notion how active and strong I am
foro light work like this,.and on my feet, until you put me to
the proof. Remember, carrying chain is neither chopping
wood nor piling logs; nor is it absolutely unfeminine."
"Nor raising churches" —  answered, smiling; for it
was not easy to resist the contagion of the girl's spirit —" at
which business I have been an eye-witness of your dexterity.
However, there will now be an end of this. It is fortunately
In my power to offer such a situation and such emoluments
to Mr. Malbone, as will at once enable him to place his sister




164          THE CIIAINBEARER.
in this house as its mistress, arid under a roof that is at least
respectable."
"Bless you for that!" cried Dus, making a movement
towards catching my hand again; but checking it in time
to render the deep blush that instantly suffused her face,
almost unnecessary. "Bless you for that! Frank,s willing
to do anything that is honest, and capable of doing anything
that a gentleman should do. I am the great encumbrance
on the poor fellow; for, could he leave me, many situations
must be open to him in the towns. But, I cannot quit my
uncle, and Frank will not quit me. He does not understand
uncle Chainbearer."
" Frank must be a noble fellow, and I honour him for his
attachment to such a sister. This makes me only the more
anxious to carry out my intentions."
" Which are such, I hope, that there is no impropriety in
his sister's knowing them?"
This was said with such an expression of interest in the
sweet, blue eyes, and with so little of the air of common
curiosity, that it completely charmed me.
" Certainly there is none," I answered, promptly enough
even for a young man who was acting under the influence
of so much ingenuous and strong native feeling; "and I
shall have great pleasure in telling you. We have long been
dissatisfied with our agent on this estate, and I had determined to offer it to your uncle. The same difficulty would
have to be overcome in this case as there was in making
him a safe surveyor-the want of skill in figures; now, this
difficulty will not exist in the instance of your brother; and
the whole family, Chainbearer as well as the rest, will be
benefited by giving the situation to Frank."
"You call him Frank!" cried.Dus, laughing, and'evidently delighted with what she heard. "That is a good
omen; but, if you raise me to the station of an agent's sister,
I do not know but I shall insist on being called Ursula, at
least, if not Miss Ursula."
I scarce knew what to make of this gill; there was so
much of gaiety, and even fun, blended with a mine of as
deep feeling as I ever saw throwing up its signs to the
human countenance. Her brother's prospects had made




THE CHAINBEARER.                     165
her even gay; though she still looked as if anxious to hear
more.
" You may claim which you please, for Frank shall have
his name put into the new power of attorney within the hour.
Mr. Newcome has had a hint, by letter, of what is to come,
and professes great happiness in getting rid of a vast deal
of unrequited trouble."
" I am afraid there is little emolument, if he is glad to be
rid of the office."
" I do not say he is glad; I only say he professes to be
so. These are different things with certain persons.. As
for the emolument, it will not be much certainly; though it
will be enough to prevent Frank's sister from carrying chain,
and leave her to exercise her talents and industry in their
proper sphere.  In the first place, every lease on the estate
is to be renewed; and, there being a hundred, and the tenant
bearing the expense, it will at once put a considerable sum
at your brother's disposition.  I cannot say that the annual
commissions will amount to a very great deal, though they
will exceed a hundred a year by the terms on which the
lands will be re-let. The use of this house and farm, however, I did intend to offer to your uncle; and, for the same
reason, I shall offer them to Frank."
" With this house and farm we shall be rich!" exclaimed
Dus, clasping her hands in delight. " I can gather a school
of the better class of girls, and no one will be useless - no
one idle. If I teach your tenants' daughters some of the
ideas of their sex and station, Mr. Littlepage, you will reap
the benefit in the end. That will be some slight return for
all your kindness."
" I wish all of your sex, and of the proper age, who are
connected with me, no better instructress. Teach them your
own warmth of heart, your own devotedness of feeling, your
own truth, and your own frankness, and I will come and
dwell on my own estate, as the spot nearest to paradise."
Dus looked a little alarmed, I thought, as if she feared
she might have uttered too much; or, perhaps, that I was
ittering too much. She rose, thanked me hurriedly, but in
a very lady-like manner, and set about removing the breakfast service, with as much diligence as if she had been a
mere menial.




166           THE C IT A  N B E A  E.
Such was my very first conversation with Ursula Mal.
bone; her, with whom I have since held so many, and those
that have been very different!  WVhen I rose to seek the
Chainbearer, it was with a feeling of interest in my late
companion that was as strong as it was sudden. I shall
not deny that her beauty had its influence-it would be unnatural that it should not.- but it was less her exceeding
beauty, and Ursula Malbone would have passed for one of
the fairest of her sex - but it was less her beauty that at.
tr.aced me than her directness, truth, and ingenuousness,
so olosely blended as all were with the feelings and delicacy
of her sex   She had certainly done things which, had I
merely heard of' them, would have struck me unpleasantly,
as even bold and forward, and which may now so strike the
reader; but this would be doing Dus injustice. No act, no
word of her's, not even the taking oft' my hand, seemed to
me, at the time, as in the least forward; the whole movement being so completely qualified by that intensity of feeling which caused her to think only of her brother. Nature
and circumstances had combined to make her precisely the
character she was; and I will confess I did not wish her to
be, in a single particular, different from what I found her.
Talk of' Pris. Bayard in comparison with Ursula Malbone!
Both had beauty, it is true, though the last was far. the handsomest; both had delicacy, and sentiment, and virtue, and
all that pertains to a well-educated young woman, if you
will; but, Dus had a character of her own, and principles,
and an energy, and a decision, that made her the girl of ten
thousand. I do not think I could be said to be actually in
love when I left that room, for I do not wish to appear so
very easy to receive impressions as all that would come to;
but I will own no female had ever before interested me a
tenth part as much,.though I had known, and possibly adnre.led her, a twelvemonth.
Int the court I found Andries measuring his chains. This
he did periodically; and it was as conscientiously as if he
were weighing gold. The old man manifested no consciousness of the length of the tete-d-tete I had held with his niece;
but, on the contrary, the first words he uttered were to an
effect that proved he fancied I had been alone.
"I peg your parton, lat," he said, holding his measuring'




-THE CHAINBElARER.                   167
rod in his mouth while he spoke.  "I peg your parton, put
this is very necessary work. I do not wish to haf any of
your Yankee settlers crying out hereafter against the chain.
pearer's surveys. Let'em come a huntret or a t'ousant
years hence, if t'ey will, and measure t'e lant; I want olt
Andries' survey to stant."
" The variation of the compass will make some difference
in the two surveys, my good friend, unless the surveyors
are better than one commonly finds."
The old man dropped his rod and his chain, and looked
despondingly at me.
"True," he said, with emphasis.  " You haf hit t'e nail
on t'e heat, Mortaunt-t'at Variation is t'e ferry teffil to get
along wit'! I haf triet it t'is-a-way, and I haf triet it t'ata-way, and never coult I make heat or tail of it! I can see
no goot of a Variation at all."
" What does your pretty assistant Dus, think of it? Dus,
the pretty Chainbearer? You will lose your old, hardearned appellation, which will be borne off by Miss Malbone."
" T'en Dus hast peen telling you all apout it! A woman
never can keep a secret. No, natur' hast mate'em talkatif,
and t'e parrot will chatter."
" A woman likes variation, notwithstanding -did you
consult Dus on that difficulty?"
" No, no, poy; I salt not'ing to Dus, ant I am sorry she
hast sait anyt'ing to you apout t'is little matter of t'e chain.
It was sorely against my will, Mortaunt, t'at t'e gal ever
carriet it a rot; and was it to do over ag'in, she shoult not
carry it a rot-yet it woult have tone your heart goot to see
how prettily she did her work; and how quick she wast:
and how true; and how accurate she put down t'e marker
and how sartain was her eye. Natur' made t'at fery gal
for a chainpearer!"
" And a chainbearer she has been, and a chainbearer she
ever will be, until she throws her chains on some poor fellow,
and binds him down for life. Andries, you have an angel
with you here, and not a woman!"
Most men in the situation of the Chainbearer might have
been alarmed at hearing such language coming from a young
man, and under all the circumstances of the case. But




168           T IIE CHIAINB EARER.
Andries Coejenians never had any distrust of mortal whr
possessed his ordinary confidence; and I question if he evei
entertained a doubt about myself on any point, the result of
his own, rather than of' my character. Instead of manifest.
ing uneasiness or displeasure, he turned to me, his whole
countenance illuminated with the affection he felt for hi,
niece, and said" T'e gal ist an excellent gal, Mortaunt; a capital crea-.
ture! It woult haf tone your heart goot, I tell you, to see
her carry chain! Your pocket is none t'e worse for t'e
mont' she worked, t'ough 1 woult not haf you t'ink I charget
for her ast for a man-no-she is town at only half-price,
woman's work peing woman's work; yet I do pelieve, on
my conscience, t'at we went over more grount in t'at mont',
t'an we coult haf tone wit' any man t'at wast to pe hiret in
t'is part of t'e worlt-I do, inteet!"
How strange all this sounded to me! Charged for work
done by Ursula Malbone, and charged at half-price! We
are the creatures of convention, and the slaves of opinions
that come we know not whence. I had got the notions of
my caste, obtained in the silent, insinuating manner in
which all our characters are formed; and nothing short of
absolute want could have induced me to accept pecuniary
compensation from an individual for any personal service
rendered. I had no profession, and it did not comport with
our usages for a gentleman to receive money for personal.
service out of the line of a profession; an arbitrary rule,
but one to which most of us submit with implicit obedience.
The idea that Dus had been paid by myself for positive toil,
therefore, was extremely repugnant to me; and it was only
after reflection that I came to view the whole affair as I
ought, and to pass to the credit of the noble-minded girl,
and this without any drawback, an act that did her so much
honour. I wish to represent myself as no better, or wiser,
or more rational than I was; and, I fancy few young men
of my age and habits would hear with much delight, at first,
that the girl he felt himself impelled to love had been thus
employed; while, on the other hand, few would fail to arrive
at the same conclusions, on reflection, as those I reached
myself.
The discourse with Andries Coejemans was interrupted




TIIE  C H A I N  E AI t.             1 9
by the sudden entrance of Frank Malbone into the court.
This was my first meeting with my young surveyor, and
Chainbearer introduced us to each other in his usual hearty
and frank manner.  In a minute we were acquainted; the
old man inquiring as to the success of the settlers in getting
up their " meetin'-us."
" I staid until they had begun to place the rafters," an
swered young Malbone, cheerfully, "and then I left them.
The Festivities are to end with a ball, I hear; but I was too
anxious to learn how my sister reached home - I ought to
say reached the'Nest - to remain.  We have little other
home now, Mr. Littlepage, than the hut in the woods, and
the roof your hospitality ofthrs."
"Brother soldiers, sir, and brother soldiers in such a
cause, ought to have no more scruples about accepting such
hospitalitics, as you call them, than in offering, them. I am
glad, however, that you have adverted to the subject, inasmuch as it opens the way to a proposition I have intended
to make; which, if accepted, will make me your guest, and
which may as well be made now as a week later."
Both Andries and Frank looked surprised; but I led them
to a bench on the open side of the court, and invited them
to be seated, while I explained myself. It may be well to
say a word of that seat; in passing. It stood on the verge of
a low cliff of rocks, on the side of the court which had been
defended by palisades, when.the French held the Canadas,
and the remains of which were still to be seen.  Here, as I
was told before we left the spot, Dus, my pretty chainbearer,
Smith a woman's instinct for the graceful and beautiful, had
erected an arbour, principally with her own hands, planted
one of the swift-growing vines of our climate, and caused a
seat to be placed within.  The spot commanded a pleasing
view of a wide expanse of meadows, and of a distant hillside, that still lay in the virgin forest.  Andries told me that
his niece had passed much of her leisure time in that arbour,
since the growth of the plant, with the advance of the season, had brought the seat into the shade.
Placing myself between the Chainbearer and Malbone, I
communicated the intention I had formed of making the
latter my agent.  As an inducement to accept the situation,
[ offered the use of the Nest-hGuse and Nest-farm, reserving
15




170            T HI E  C 1 A I N:'::.  t',: it.
to myself the room or two th:at had been my X(randlf~ather's,
and that only at the times oft my annual visits to the property.  As the farm was large, and of' an excellent quality
of land, it would abundantly supply the wants of a family
of modest habits, and even admit of sales to produce the
means of purchasing such articles of foreign growth as might
be necessary. In a word, I laid before the listeners the whole
of my plan, which was a good deal enlarged by a secret wish
to render Ursula comfortable, without saying anything about
the motive.
The reader is not to suppose I was exhibiting any extra.
ordinary liberality in doing that which I have related.  It
must not be forgotten that land was a drug in the State of
New York in the year 1784, as it is to-day on the Miami,
Ohio, Mississippi, and other inland streams. The proprietors
thought but little of their possessions as the means of present
support, but rather maintained their settlements than their
settlements maintained them; looking forward to another
age, and to their posterity, for the rewards of all their trouble and investments.*
It is scarcely necessary to say my proposals were gladly
accepted. Old Andries squeezed my hand, and I understood
the pressure as fully as if he had spoken with the eloquence
of Patrick Henry. Frank Malbone was touched; and all
parties were perfectly satisfied. The surveyor had his fieldinkstand with him, as a matter of course, and I had the
Power-of-Attorney in my pocket ready for the insertion of
the Chainbearer's name, would he accept the office of agent.
That of Malbone was written in its stead; I signed; Andries
witnessed; and we left the seat together; Frank Malbone,
in effect, temporarily master of the house in which we.were,
* The Manor of Rensselaerwick virtually extends forty-eight miles
east and west, and twenty-four north and south. It is situated in the
very heart of New York, with three incorporated cities within its
limits, built, in part, on small, older grants. Albany is a town of near,
if not of quite 40,000 souls; and Troy must now contain near 28,000.
Yet, the late Patroon, in the last conversation he ever held with the
writer, only a few months before he died, stated that his grandfather
was the first proprietor who ever reaped any material advantage from
the estate, and ids afthicz- tc firz-st wrho recc red any income of considerable amount. The home property, farms and mills, furnished the
income of the fiamily for more than a century. - EDITOR.




TIIE CII A I NBEA R  R.               17
and his charming sister, as a necessary consequence, its
mistress. -It was a delicious moment to me, when I saw
Dus throw herself into her brother's arms, and weep on his
Dosom, as he communicated to her the joyful intelligence.
CHAPTER  XIII.
"A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies
your text?"            Twelfth Night; or What You W'Vill.
A MONTH glided swiftly by. During that interval, Frank
Malbone was fully installed, and Andries consented to sus.
pend operations with his chain, until this necessary work
was completed. Work it was; for every lease granted by
my grandfather having run out, the tenants had remained
on their farms by sufferance, or as occupants at will, holding from year to year under parole agreements made with
Mr. Newcome, who had authority to go that far, but no
farther.
It was seldom that a landlord, in that day, as I have
already said, got any income from his lands during the first
iew years of their occupation.  The great thing was to induce settlers to come; for, where there was so much competition, sacrifices had to be made in order to effect this pre.
liminary object.  In compliance with this policy, my grandfather had let his wild lands for nominal rents in nearly
every instance, with here and there a.farm of particular
advantages excepted; and, in most cases, the settler had
enjoyed the use of the farm for several years, for no rent at
all. He paid the taxes, which were merely nominal, and
principally to support objects that were useful to the imme.
diat6 neighbourhood; such as the construction of roads,
bridges, pounds, with other similar works, and the administration of justice. At the expiration of this period of nonpayment of rents, a small sum  per acre was agreed to be
oaid, rather than actually paid, not a dollar of which had
aver left the settlement. The landlord was expected to head




172           THE C II A I N BE  RER.
all subscriptions for everything that was beneficial, or which
professed to be beneficial to the estate; and the few hundreds
a year, two or three at most, that my rent-roll actually ex.
hibited, were consumed among the farms of the Nest. It
was matter of record that not one shilling had the owner of
this property, as yet, been able to carry away with him for
his own private purposes.  It is true, it had been in his
power to glean a little each year for such a purpose; but it
was not considered politic, and consequently it was not the
practice of the country, in regard to estates so situated and
before the revolution; though isolated cases to the contrary,
in which the landlord was particularly avaricious, or particularly necessitous, may have existed. Our New York
proprietors, in that day, were seldom of the class that needed
money. Extravagance had been little known to the province,
and could not yet be known to the State; consequently, few
lost their property from their expenditures, though some did
from mismanagement. The trade of " puss in the corner,"
or of shoving a man out of his property, in crder to place
oneself-in it, was little practised previously to the revolution;
and the community always looked upon the intruder into
family property with a cold eye, unless he came into posses.
sion by fair purchase, and for a sufficient price. Legal
speculations were then nearly unknown; and he who got
rich was expected to do so by manly exertions, openly exercised, and not by the dark machinations of a sinister prac-.
tice of the law.
In our case, not a shilling had we, as yet, been benefited
by the property of Ravensnest.  All that had ever been received, and more too, had been expended on the spot; but a
time had now arrived when it was.just and reasonable that
the farms should make some returns for all our care and
outlays.
Eleven thousand acres were under lease, divided among
somewhat less than a hundred tenants. Until the first day
of the succeeding April, these persons could hold their lands
under the verbal contracts; but, after that day, new leases
became necessary.  It is not usual for the American landlord to be exacting.  It is out of his power, indeed, for the
simple reason that land is so much more abundant than
men; but, it is not the practice of the country, a careless




THE CHAIN BEARER.                   173
indulgence being usually the sin of the caste; an indulgence
that admits of an accumulation of arrears which, when pay.
day does arrive, is apt to bring with it ill-blood and discontent. It is an undeniable truth in morals, that, whatever
may be -the feeling at the time, men are rarely grateful for
a government that allows their vices to have a free exercise.
They invariably endeavour to throw a portion of the odium
of their own misdeeds on the shoulders of those who should
have controlled them. It is the same with debt; for, however much we may beg for lenity at the time, accumulations
of interest wear a very hostile aspect when they present
themselves in a sum-total, at a moment it is inconvenient to
balance the account. If those who have been thus placed
would only remember that there is a last great account that
every man must be called on to settle., arrearages and all,
the experience of their worldly affairs might suggest a lesson
that w muld be infinitely useful.  It is fortunate for us, with.
out exception, that there is a Mediator to aid us in the task.
The time had come when Ravensnest might be expectec
to produce something. Guided by the surveys, and our own
local knowledge, and greatly aided by the Chainbearer's
experience, Frank Malbone and I passed one entire fortnight
in classifying the farms; putting the lowest into the shilling
category; others into the eighteen pence; and a dozen farms
or so into the two shillings. The result was, that we placed
six thousand acres at a shilling a year rent; three thousand
eight hundred at eighteen pence the acre, and twelve hun.
dred acres at two shillings. The whole made a rental of
fourteen thousand one hundred shillings, or a fraction more
than seventeen hundred and forty-two dollars per annum.
This sounded-pretty well for the year 1784, and it was exclusively of the Nest farm, of Jason Newcome's mills and
timber-land, which he had hitherto enjoyed for nothing, or
for a mere nominal rent, and all the wild lands.
I will confess I exulted greatly in the result of our calculations. Previously to that day, I had placed no dependence
on Ravensnest for income, finding my support in the other
property I had inherited from my grandfather. On paper,
my income was more than doubled, for I received then only
some eleven hundred a year (I speak of dollars, not pounds)
from my other property. It is true, the last included a greal
15f




174          THE CIHAINBEARER.
many town-lots that were totally unproductive, but which
promised to be very valuable, like Ravensnest itself, at some
future day. Most things in America looked to the future,
then as nowx; though I trust the hour of fruition is eventually
to arrive. My town property has long since become very
valuable, and tolerably productive.
As soon as our scheme for re-letting was matured, Frank
summoned the occupants of the farms, in bodies of ten, to
present themselves at the Nest, in order to take their new
leases. We had ridden round the estate, and conversed with
the tenantry, and had let my intentions be known previously,
so that little remained to be discussed. The farms were all
re-let for three lives, and on my own plan, no one objecting
to the rent, which, it was admitted all round, was not only
reasonable, but low. Circumstances were then too recent
to admit of the past's being forgotten; and the day when the
last lease was signed was one of general satisfaction. I did
think of giving a landlord's dinner, and of collecting the
whole settlement in a body, for the purposes of jovial and
friendly communion; but old Andries threw cold water on
the project.
" T'at would do, Mortaunt," he said, " if you hat only
raal New Yorkers, or Middle States' men to teal wit'; but
more t'an half of t'ese people are from t'e Eastern States,
where t'ere are no such t'ings as lantlorts and tenants, on a
large scale you unterstant; and t'ere isn't a man among'em
all t'at isn't looking forwart to own his farm one tay, by
hook or by crook. T'ey're as jealous of t'eir tignities as if
each man wast a full colonel, and will not t'ank you for a
tinner at which t'ey will seem to play secont fittle."
Although. I knew the Chainbearer had hifncient Dtttch
prejudices against our eastern brethren, I also knew that
there was a good deal of truth in what he said. Frank
Malbone, who was Rhode Island born, had the same notions, I found on inquiry; and I was disposed to defer to
his opinions. Frank Malbone was a gentleman himself, and
men of that class are always superior to low jealousies; but
Frank must know better how to appreciate the feelings of
those among whom he had been bred and born than I could
possibly know how to do it myself. The project'of the dinner
wvas accordingly abandoned.




THE  C I AINBEARER.                 175
It remained to make a new arrangement and a final settrlement with Mr. Jason Newcome, who was much the most
thriving man at Ravensnest; appearing to engross in his
single person all the business of the settlement.  He was
magistrate, supervisor, deacon, according to the Congrega.
tional plan, or whatever he is called, miller, store-keeper,
will-drawer, tavern-keeper by deputy, and adviser-general,
for the entire region.  Everything seemed to pass through
his hands; or, it would be better to say, everything entered
them, though little indeed came out again. This man was
one of those moneyed gluttons, on a small scale, who live
solely to accumulate; in my view, the most odious character
on earth; the accumulations lhaving none of the legitimate
objects of proper industry and enterprise in view. So long
as there was a man nea.r him whom he supposed to be richer
than himself, Mr. Newcome would have been unhappy;
though he did not know what to do with the property he
had already acquired. One does not know whether to detest
or to pity such characters the most; since, while they are
and must be repugnant to every man of right feelings and
generous mind, they carry in their own bosoms the worm
that never dies, to devour their own vitals.
Mr. Newcome had taken his removal from the agency in
seeming good part, affecting a wish to giveit up from the
moment: he had reason to think it was to be taken from him.
On this score, therefore, all was amicable, not a complaint
being made on his side. On the contrary, he met Frank
Malbone with the most seeming cordiality, and we proceeded to business with as much apparent good-will as had been
manifested in any of the previous bargains.  Mr. Newcome
did nothing diamlly; a circuitous path being the one he had
been accustomeI lo travel from childhood.
"You took the mill-lot and the use of five hundred acres
of wood-land from my grandfather for three lives; or failing
these, for a full term of one-and-twenty years, I find, Mr.
Newcome," I remarked, as soon as we were seated at business, " and for a nominal rent; the mills to be kept in repair, and to revert to the landlord at the termination of the'ease."
"Yes, major Littlepage, that was the bargain I will allow,
hough a hard one has it proved to me.  The war come




176           TILE CHAI. EARER.
on"- -this man was what was called liberally educated, blt
he habitually used bad grammar — " The war come on, and
with it hard times, and I didn't know but the major would
be willing to consider the circumstances, if we make a new
bargain." 
"The war cannot have had much effect to your prejudice,
as grain of all sorts bore a high price; and I should think
the fact that large armies were near by, to consume every.
thing you had to sell, and that at high prices, more than
compensated for any disadvantage it might have induced.
You had the benefits of two wars, Mr. Newcome; that of
1775, and a part of that of 1756."
My tenant made no answer to this, finding I had reflected
on the subject, and was prepared to answer him. After a
pause, he turned to more positive things.
" I suppose the major goes on the principle of supposing
Ia legal right in an old tenant to enj'y a new lease? I'm
told he has admitted this much in all his dealin's."
" Then you have been misinformed, sir. I am not weak
enough to admit a right that the lease itself, which, in the
nature of things, must and does form the tenant's only title,
contradicts in terms.  Your legal interest in the property
ceases altogether in a few days from this time."
" Y-a-a-s - y-a-a-s - sir, I conclude it doose," said the'squire, leaning' back in his chair, until his body was at an
angle of some sixty or seventy degrees with the floor — " I
conclude it doose accordin' to the covenants; but, between
man and man, there ought to be suthin' more bindin'."
"I know of nothing more binding in a lease than its covenants, Mr. Newcome."
"Wa-a-l" -how that man would'wa-a-a-l' when he
wished to circumvent a fellow-creature; wl  with what a
Jesuitical accent he did pronounce the word!-" Wa-a-l —
that's accordin' to folk's idees.  A covenant may be hard;
and then, in my judgment, it ought to go for nothin'.  I'm
ag'in all hard covenants."
s`Akrn~, friknt 5aso'n,u pnut In the Dhalnbearer, wrho was
an old acquaintance of Mr. Newcome's, and appeared tho.
roughly to understand his character-" Harkee, frient Jason;
do you gif pack unexpected profits, ven it so happens t'at
more are mate on your own pa; gains t'an wer# looket for?'




T IE  C IANBEARER.                   177
" It's not of much use to convarse with you, Chainbearer,
on such subjects, for we'll never think alike," answered the'squire, leaning still farther back in his chair; "you're
what I call a partic'lar man, in your notions, and we should
never agree."
" Still, there is good sense in Chainbearer's question," I
added. " Unless prepared to answer' yes,' I do not see. how
you can apply your own principle with any justice. But,
let this pass as it will, why are covenants made, if they are
not to be regarded?"
"Wa-a-l, now, accordin' to my notion, a covenant in a
lease is pretty much like a water-course in a map; not a
thing. to be partic'lar at all about; but, as water-courses look
well on a map, so covenants read well in a lease. Landlords like to have'em, and tenants a'n't partic'lar."
"You can hardly be serious in either case, I should hope,
Mr. Newcome, but are pleased to exercise your ingenuity
on us for your own amusement. There is nothing so parti.
cular in the covenants of your lease as to require any case
of conscience to decide on its points."
" There's. this in it, major, that you get the whull property back ag'in, if you choose to claim it."
"Claim it!-The whole property has been mine, or my
predecessors', ever since it was granted to us by the crown.
All your rights come from your lease; and when that terminates, your rights terminate."
"Not accordin' to my judgment, major; not accordin' to
my judgment. I built the mills, at my own cost, you'll remember."
" I certainly know, sir, that you built the mills, at what
you call your own cost; that is, you availed yourself of a
natural mill-seat, used our timber and other materials, and
constructed the mills, such as they are, looking for your
reward in their use for the term of a quarter of a century,
for a mere nominal rent - having saw-logs at command as
you wanted them, and otherwise enjoying privileges under
ine of the most liberal leases that was ever granted."
"Yes. sir, but that was in the bargain I made with your
grand'ther. It was agreed between us, at the time I took the
olace, that I was to cut logs at will, and of course use the
materials on the ground for buildin'. You see, major, your




178           TH E CIIAINlBEALE R.
grand'ther wvanted mills built desperately; and so he gave
them conditions accordin'ly. You'll find every syllable on't
in the lease."
"No doubt, Mr. Newcome; and you will also find a covenant in the same lease, by which your interest in the property is to cease in a few days."
" Wa-a-l, now, I don't understand leases in that way.
Surely it was7 never intended a man should erect mills, to
lose all right in'em at the end of five-and-twenty years!"
"That will depend on the bargain made at the time.
Some persons erect mills and houses that have no rights in
them at all. They are paid for their work as they build."
"Yes, yes-carpenters and mill-wrights, you mean, But
I'm speakin' of no such persons; I'm speakin' of honest,
hard-workin', industrious folks, that give their labour and
time to build up a settlement; and not of your mechanics
who work for hire. Of course, they're to be paid for what
they do, and there's an eend on't."
" I am not aware that all honest persons are hard-working,
and more than that all hard-working persons are honest. 1
wish to be understood that, in the first place, Mr. Newcome.
Phrases will procure no concession from me. I agree with
you, however, perfectly, in saying that when a man is paid
for his work, there will be what you call'an end of it.'
Now, twenty-thiee days from this moment, you will have
been paid for all you have done on my property according
to your own agreement; and, by your own reasoning, there
must be an end of your connection with that property."
": The major doosn't ra-a-lly mean to rob me of all my
iard earnin's!"
"Mr. Newcome, rob is a hard word, and one I beg that
may not be again nsed between you and me. I have no
intention to rob you, or to let you rob me. The pretence
that you are not, and were not acquainted with.the conditions
of this lease, comes rather late in the day, after a possession
of a quarter of a century. You know very well that my
grandfather would not s6ll, and that he would do no more
than lease; if it were your wish to purchase, why did you
not go elsewhere, and get land in fee?  There were, and
are still, thousands of acres to be sold, all around you.  I
have lands to sell, myself, at Mnoseridge, as the agent of




TH II E CH AIN BEA  ER.              179
my father and colonel Follock, xvithin twenty miles of you,
and they tell me capital mill-seats in the bargain."
"Yes, tpajor, but not so much to my notion as this- I
kind o' wanted this!"
" But, I kind o' want this, too; and, as it is mine, I think,
in common equity; I have the best claim to enjoy it."
" It's on equity I want to put this very matter, major -
I know the law is ag'in me - that is, some people say it is;
but, some think not, now we've had a revolution - but, let
the law go as it may, there's such a thing as what I call
right between man and man."
" Certainly; and law is an invention to enforce it.  It is
right I should do exactly what my grandfather agreed to do
for me, five-and-twenty years ago, in relation to these mills;
and it is right you should do what you agreed to do, for
yourself."
" I have done so. I agreed to build the mills, in a sartain
form and mode, and I done it. I'11 defy mortal man to say
otherwise. The saw-mill was smashing away at the logs
within two months a'ter I got the lease, and we began to
grind in four!"' No doubt, sir, you were active and imdustrious-though
t( be frank with you, L will say that competent judges tell
me neither mill is worth much now."
" That's on account of the lease"-cried Mr. Newcome,
a little too hastily, possibly, for the credit of his discretionC" how did I know when it would run out. Your gran'ther
granted it for three lives, and twenty-one years afterwards,
and I. did all a man could to make it last as long as I should
myself; but, here I am, in the prime of life, and in danger
of losing my property!"
I knew all the facts of the case perfectly, and had intend.
ed to deal liberally with Mr. Newcome froin the first.  In
his greediness for gain he had placed his lives on three infants, although my grandfather had advised him to place at
least one on himself; but, ro — Mr. Newcome had fancied
he life of an infant better than that of a man; and in three
or four years after the signature of the lease, his twenty-one
years had begun to run, and were now near expiring. Even
under this certainly unlooked-for state of things, the lease
had been a very adyantageous one for the tenant; and, had




180           THE CI AI NBE ARLR.
Dne of' his lives lasted a century, th( landlord would have
looked in vain for any concession on that account; landlords never asking for, or expecting favours of that sort;
indeed most landlords would be ashamed to receive them;
nevertheless, I was disposed to consider the circumstances,
to overlook the fact that the mills and all the other buildings
on the property were indifferently built, and to re-let for an
additional term  of twenty-one years, wood-lands, farms,
buildings and other privileges, for about one-third of the
money that Mr. Newcome himself would have been apt to
ask, had he the letting instead of' myself. Unwilling to prolong a discussion with a man who, by his very nature, was
unequal to seeing more than one side of a subject, I cut the
matter short, by telling him my terms without further delay.
Notwithsta'nding all his acting and false feeling, the'squire was so rejoiced to learn my moderation, that he
could not but openly express his feelings; a thing he would
not have done, did he not possess the moral certainty I
would not depart from rmy word.  I felt it necessary, however, to explain myself.
"'Bef6re I  yive you this new lease, Mr. Newcome," I
added, holding the instrument signed in my hand, " I wish
to be understood.  It is not granted under the notion that
you have any right to ask it, beyond the allowance that is
always made by a liberal landlord to a reasonably good
tenant; which is simply a preference over others on the
same terms.  As for the early loss of your lives, it was
your own fault.  Had the infants you named, or had one
of them passed the state of childhood, it might have lived to
be eighty, in which case my timber-land would have been
stripped without any return to its true owner; but, your
children died, and the lease was brought within reasonable
limits.  Now,.the only inducement I have for offering the
terms I do, is the liberality that is usual with landlords,
what is conceced is conceded as no right, but as an act of
Jiberality."
This was presenting to my tenant the most incomprehensible of all reasons for doing anything.  A close and
sordid calculator himself, he was not accustomed to give
any man credit for generosity; and, from the doubting, dis
trustful manner in which he received the paper, I suspected




THE  CIAINIBEARER.                     18)
at the moment that he was aftraid there wvas some projee
for'taking him in.  A  rogue is always distrustful, and a,
often betrays his character to honest men by that as by any
other failing. I was not to regulate my own conduct, how
ever, by the weaknesses of Jason Newcome, and the least
was granted.
I coUild wish here to make one remark.  There oughtl
certainly to be the same principle of good fellowship existing between the relations of landlord and tenant that exist;n the other relations of lifb, and which creates a moral tie
oetween parties that have much connection in their ordinary
interests, and that to a degree to produce preferences and
various privileges of a similar character. This I am far
from calling in question; and, on the whole, I think of all
that class of relations, the one in question is to be set down
as among the most binding and sacred. Still, the mere
moral rights of the tenant must depend on the rigid maintenance of all the rights of the landlord; the legal and moral
united; and the man who calls in question either of the
latter, surely violates every claim to have his own pretensions allowed, heyond those which the strict letter of the
law will yield to him. The landlord who will grant a new
lease to the individual who is endeavouring to -undermine
his rights, by either direct or indirect means, commits the
weakness of arming an enemy with the knife  by which he
is himself to be assaulted, in addition to the error of granting power to a man who, under the character of a spurious
liberty, is endeavouring to unsettle the only conditions on
which civilized society can exist.  If landlords will exhibit
this weakness, they must blame themselves for the consequences.
I got rid of Mr. Newcome by the grant of the lease, his
whole manceuvring having been attempted solely to lower
the rent; for he was much too shrewd to believe in the truth
~f his own doctrines on the subject of right and wrong.
That same day my axe-men appeared at the'Nest, having
passed the intermediate time in looking at various tracts of
land that were in the market, and which they had not found
so eligible, in the way of situation, quality, or terms, as
those I offered. By this time, the surveyed lots of Moosetidge were ready, and I offered to sell them to these emi
16




182            THE  CIIAINBEARER
grants. The price was only a dollar an acre, with a credit
of ten years; the interest to be paid annually.  One would
have thought that the lovness of the price would have induced men to prefer lands in fee to lands on lease; but these
persons, to a man, found it more to their interests to take
farms on three-lives leases, being rent-free for the first five
years, and at nominal rents for the remainder of the term,
than to pay seven dollars a year of interest, and a hundred
dollars in money, at the expiration of the credit.* This fact,
of itself, goes to show how closely these men calculated
their means, and the effect their decisions might have on
their interests. Nor were their decisions always wrong.
Those who can remember the start the country took shortly
after the peace of'83, the prices that the settlers on new
lands obtained for their wheat, ashes and pork; three dollaIs a bushel often for the first, three hundred dollars a ton
for the second, and eight or ten dollars a hundred for the
last, will at once understand that the occupant of new lands
at that period obtained enormous wages for a labourer by
means of the rich unexhausted lands he was thus permitted
to occupy. *No doubt he would have been in a better situation had he owned his farm in fee at the end of his lease;
so would the merchant who builds a ship and clears her cost
by her first freight, have been a richer man had he cleared
the cost of two ships instead ofone; but he has done well, notwithstanding; and it is not to be forgotten that the man who
commences life with an axe and a little household furniture,
is in the situation of a mere day-labourer.  The addition to
his means of the use of land is the very circumstance that
enables him to rise above his humble position, and to profit
" The fact here stated by Mr. Littlepage should never be forgotten;
inasmuch as it colours the entire nature of the pretension now set up
as to the exactions of leases. No man in New York need ever have
leased a farm for the want of an opportunity of purchasing, theme
never having been a time when land for farms in fee has not been
openly on sale within the bounds of the State; and land every way
as eligible as that leased. In few cases have two adjoining estates
been leased; and, where such has been the fact, the husbandman
mnight always have found a farm in fee, at the cost of half a day's
travelling. The beaefits to the landlord have usually been so rerhote
on the estate leased, that by fiLr the greater proportion of the proprie.
tors have preferred selling at once, to waiting for the tardy operations
of time.  EDITOR




T HE CHAINIBEARER.                    183
by the cultivation of the soil.  At the close of the last c( n.
tury, and at the commencement of the present, the count ry
was so placed as to render every stroke of the axe direc ly
profitable, the very labour that was expended in clearing
away the trees meeting with a return so liberal by the s:tle
of the ashes manufactured, as to induce even speculators to
engage in the occupation. It may. one day be a subject of
curious inquiry to ascertain how so much was done as is
known to have been done at that period, towards convert'ng
the wilderness into a garden; and I will here record, for
the benefit of posterity, a brief sketch of one of the processes of getting to be comfortable, if not rich, that;was
much used in that day.
It was a season's work for a skilful axe-man to chop, lg,
burn, clear and sow ten acres of forest-land. The ashes he
manufactured.  For the heavier portions of the work, s tch
as the logging,. he called on his neighbours for aid, ren tering similar asbsistance by way of payment. One yoke of o:en
frequently sufficed for two or three farms, and " logging-bees"
have given rise to a faimiliar expression among us, that is
known as legislative "log-rolling;" a process by which as
is well known, one set of members supports the project of
another set, on the principle of reciprocity.
Now, ten acres of land, cropped for the first time, m ght
very well yield a hundred and fifty bushels of merchant ible
wheat, which would bringr three hundred dollars in the Albany market.  They would also make a ton of pot-ashes,
which would sell for at least two hundred dollars.  Th s is
giving five hundred dollars for a single year's work. Al'owillg for all the drawbacks of building, tools, chains, tr insportation, provisions, &c., and- one-half of this money might
very fairly be set down as clear profit; very large ret Irns
to one who, before he got his farm, was in the situatio l of
a mere day-labourer, content to toil for eight or ten do lars
the month.
That such was the history, in its outlines, of the rise of
thousands. of the yeomen who now dwell in New York, is
undeniable; and it goes to show that if the settler in a new
country has to encounter toil and privations, they are not
always without their quick rewards.  In these later times,
men go on the open prairies, and apply the plough to ap




184           T II E  C IAINBEARER.
ancient sward; but I question if they would not rather en.
counter the virgin forests of 1790, with the prices of that
day, that run over the present park-like fields, is order to
raise wheat for 374 cents per bushel, have no ashes at any
price, and sell their pork at two dollars the hundred!
CHAPTER XIV.
"Intent to blend her with his lot,
Fate form'd her all that he was not;
And, as by mere unlikeness, thoughtAssociate we see,
Their hearts, from very difference, caught
A perfect sympathy."
PINCKNEY.
ALL this time, I saw Ursula Malbone daily, and at all
hours of the day. Inmates of the same dwelling, we met
constantly, and many were the interviews and conversations
which tobk place between us.  Had Dus been the most
finished coquette in existence, her practised ingenuity could
not have devised more happy expedients to awaken interest
in me than those which were really put in use by this singular girl, without the slightest intention of bringing about
any such result.  Indeed, it was the nature, the total ab.
sence of art, that formed one of the brightest attractions of
her character, and gave so keen a zest to her cleverness
and beauty. In that day, females, while busied in the affairs
of their household, appeared in " short-gown and petticoat,"
as it was termed, a species of livery that even ladies often
assumed of a morning. The toilette was of far wider
range in 1784 than it is now, the distinctions between morning and evening dress being much broader then than at present. As soon as she was placed really at the head of her
brother's house, Ursula Malbone set about the duties of her
new station quietly and without the slightest fuss, but ac.
tively and with interest. She seemed to me to possess, in a
high degree, that particular merit of carrying on the details




THE  CIIAIN  E A R  It.               185
of her office in a silent, unobtrusive lma-nner, while they
were performed most effectually and entirely to the comfort
of those for whose benefit her care was exercised. I am not
one of those domestic canters who fancy a woman, in order
to make a good wife, needs be a drudge and possess the
knowledge of a cook or a laundress; but it is certainly of
great importance that she have the faculty of presiding
over her family with intelligence, and an attention that is
suited to her means of expenditure. Most of all is it important that she knows how to govern without being seen
or heard.
The wife of an educated man should be an educated woman; one fit to be his associate, qualified to mingle her
tastes with his own, to exchange ideas, and otherwise to be
his companion, in an intellectual sense. These are the
higher requisites; a gentleman accepting the minor qualifications as so many extra advantages, if kept within their
proper limits; but as positive disadvantages if they interfere
with, or in any manner mar the manners, temper, or mental
improvement of the woman whom he has chosen as his wife,
and not as his domestic. Some sacrifices may be necessary
in those cases in which cultivation exists without a sufficiency
of means; but, even then, it is seldom indeed that a woman
of the proper qualities may not be prevented from sinking
to the level of a menial. As for the cant of the newspapers
on such subjects, it usually comes from those whose homes
are merely places for " board and lodging."
The address with which Dus discharged all the functions
of her new station, while she avoided those that were un?
seemly and out of place, charmed me almost as much as
her spirit, character and beauty.  The negroes removed all
necessity for her descending to absolute toil; and with what
pretty, feminine dexterity did she perform the duties that
properly belonged to her station!  Always cheerful, frequently singing, not in a noisy milk-maid mood, but at
those moments when she n ight fancy herself unheard, and
n sweet, plaintive songs that seemed to recall the scenes of
other days. Always cheerful, however, is saying a little
too much; for, occasionally, Dus was sad. I found her in
W~ars three or four times, but did not dare inquire into their,ause.  There was scarce time, indeed; for, the instant
16 *




186           THE  CHAINBEARER.
I appetare(l, she dried her eyes, and received me with
smiles.
It is scarcely necessary to say that to me the tinie passed
pleasantly, and amazingly fast. Chainbearer remained at
the Nest by my orders, for he would not yield to requests;
and I do not remember a more delightful month than that
proved to be. I made a very general acquaintance with my
tenants, and found many of them as straight-forward, honest,
hard-working yeomen, as one could wish to meet. My bro.
ther major, in particular, was a hearty old fellow, and often
came to see me, living on the farm that adjoined my own.
He growled a little about the sect that had got possession of
the new' meetin'-us," but did it in a way to show there was
not much gall in his own temperament.'J' don't rightly understand these majority-matters," said
the old fellow, one day that we were talking the matter over,
"' though I very well know Newcome always manages to
get one, let the folks think as they will. I've known the'squire contrive to cut a majority out of about a fourth of
all present, and he does it in a way that is desp'ret ingen'ous,
I will allow, though I'm afeard it's neither law nor gospel."
"He certainly managed, in the affair of the denomination,
to make a plurality of one appear in the end to be a very
handsome majority over all!"
"Ay, there's twists and turns in these things, that's beyond my l'arnin', though I s'pose all's right. It don't matter much in the long run, a'ter all, where a man worships,.provided he worships; or who preaches, so that he listens."
I think this liberality-if that be the proper word-in reli.
gious matters, is fast increasing among us; though liberality
may be but another term for indifference. As for us Episcopalians, I wonder there are any left in the country, though
we are largely on the increase. There we were, a church
that insisted on Episcopal ministrations-on confirmation in
particular-left for a century without a bishop, and unable
to conform to practices that it was insisted on were essential,nd this solely because it did not suit the policy of the mo.
ther-country to grant us prelates of our own, or to send us,
occasionally even, one of her's! How miserable do human
expedients often appear when they are tried by the tests of,ommcn sense! A church of God, insisting on certain spi.




THE CHAINBEARER.                       187
ritual essentials that. it cenies to a portion of its people, in
order to conciliate worldly interests! It is not the church
of England alone, however, nor the government of England,
that is justly obnoxious to such an accusation; sornetlill!
equally bad and just as inconsistent, attaching itself' to thle
ecclesiastical influence of every other system in fhristendtom
under which the state is tied to religion by means of human
provisions. The mistake is in connecting the things of the
world with the things that are of God.
Alas!-alas! When you sever that pernicious tie, is the
matter much benefited? How is it among ourselves? Are
not sects, and shades of sects, springing up among us on
every side, until the struggle between parsons is getting to
-be not who shall aid in making most Christians, but who
shall gather into his fold most sectarians? As for the people
themselves, instead of regarding churches, even after they
have established them, and that too very much on their own
authority, they first consider their own tastes, enmities and
predilections, respecting the priest far more than the altar,
and set themselves up as a sort of religious constituencies,
who are to be represented directly in the government of
Christ's followers on earth. Half of a parish will fly off in a
passion to another denomination if they happen to fall into
a minority.- Truly, a large portion of our people is begin
ning to act ini this matter, as if they had a sense of " giving
their support" to the Deity, patronising him in this temple
or the other, as may suit the feeling or the interest of the
moment.*
But, I am  not writing homilies, and will return to the
Nest and my friends.- A day or two after Mr. Newcomb
received his new lease, Chainbearer, Frank, Dus and I wet,'
in the little arbour that overlooked the meadows, when we.
saw Sureflint, moving at an Indian's pace, along a path that
came out of the forest,-and which was known to lead to
[* If Mr. Littlepage wrote thus, thirty or forty years since, hoiwt
would he- have written to-day, when we have had loud protestation i
flourishing around Us in the Vpfblic journals, that this or that sectarian
polity was most in unison with a republican form of government
What renders this assumption as absurd as it is presuming, is th,
well-known fact that it comes-from those who have ever been loude.,
in their declamations of a union between church and state!]




188           THE  CHAINBIEARER.
wards Mooseridge. The Onondago carried his rifle as usual
and bore on his back a large bunch of something that we
supposed to be game, though the distance prevented our discerning its precise character.  In half a minute he disappeared behind a projection of' the cliffs, trotting towards the
buildings.
"My friend, the Trackless, has been absent from us now
a longer time than usual," Ursula remarked, as she turned
her head fiom following the Indian's movements, as long as
he remained in sight; " but he re-appears loaded with something for our benefit."
" He has passed most of his time of late with your uncle,
I believe,".I answered, following Dus's fine eyes with my
own, the pleasantest pursuit I could discover in that remote
quarter of the world. " I have written this to my father,
who will be glad to hear tidings of his old friend."
"He is much with my uncle, as you say, being greatly
attached to him. Ah! here he comes, with such a load on
his shoulders as an Indian does not love to bear; though
even a chief will condescend to carry game."
As Dus ceased speaking, Sureflint threw a large bunch
of pigeons, some two or three dozen birds, at her feet, turning away quietly, like one who had done his part of the
work, and who left the remnainder to be managed by the
squaws.
" Thank you, Trackless," said the pretty housekeeper -
"*hank'ee kindly. These are beautiful birds, and as fat as
butter.  We shall have them cleaned, and cooked in all
manner of ways."
"All squab -just go to fly - take him ebbery one in
nest," answered the Indian.
"Nests must be plenty, then, and I should like to visit
them," I cried, remembering to have heard strange marvels
of the multitudes of pigeons that were fiequently found in
dtieir' roosts,' as the encampments they made in the woods
were often termed in the parlance of the country.  "Can
we not go in a body and visit this roost?"
"It might pe tone," answered the Chainbearer; "it might
pe tone, and it is time we wast moving in t'eir tirection, if
more lant is to pe surveyet, ant t'ese pirts came from t'o




THX! CIIRINBEARER.                  189
hill I suppose t'ey do. Mooseridge promiset to have plenty
of pigeons t'is season."
"Just so"-answered Sureflint. " Million, t'ousan', hun.
dred-more too. Nebber see more; nebber see so many.
Great Spirit don't forget poor Injin; sometime give him
deer — sometime salmon — sometime pigeon - plenty for
ebbery body; only t'ink so."
" Ay, Sureflint; only t'ink so, inteet, and t'ere is enough
for us all, and plenty to spare.  Got is pountiful to us, put
we ton't often know how to use his pounty," answered
Chainbearer, who had been examining the birds - "Finer
squaps arn't often met wit'; and I too shoult like amazingly
to see one more roost, pefore I go to roost myself."
" As for the visit to the roost," cried I, "' that is settled for
to-morrow. But a man who has just come out of a war like
the last, into peaceable times, has no occasion to speak of
his end, Chainbearer.  You are old in years, but young in
mind, as well as body."
" Bot' nearly wore out-bot' nearly wore out! It is well
to tell an olt fool t'e contrary, put I knbw petter.  T'ree
score and ten is man's time, and I haf fillet up t'e numper
of my tays. Got knows pest, when it wilt pe his own plea.
sure to call'me away; put, let it come when it will, I shall
now tie happy, comparet wit' what I shoult haf tone a mont'
Ago.'
" You surprise me, my dear friend! What has happened
to make this difference in your feelings? —It cannot be that
you are changed in any essential!"
" T'e tifference is in Dus's prospects. Now Frank has a
goot place, my gal will not pe forsaken."
" Forsaken! Dus - Ursula - Miss Malbone forsaken I
That could never happen, Andries, Frank or no Frank."
" I hope not-I hope not, lat-put t'e gal pegins to weep,
and we'll talk no more apout it. Harkee, Susquesus; my
olt frient, can you guite us to t'is roost?"
"Why no do it, eh? — Path wide —open w.4ole way.
Plain as river.". "Well, t'en, we wilt all pe off for t'e place in t'e mornin'.
My new assistant is near, and it is high time Frank and I
hat gone into t'e woots ag'in."




190           THE  C  A INBEARER
I heard this arrangement made, though my eyes were
following Dus, who had.started firom  her seat, and rushea
into the house, endeavouring to hide emotions that were
not to be hushed.  A mrinute later I saw her at the window
of her own room, smiling, though the cloud had not yet en.
tirely dispersed.
Next morning early our whole party left the Nest for the
hut at Mooseridge, and the pigeon-roosts.  Dus and the
black female servant travelled on horseback, there being no
want of cattle at the Nest, where, as I now learned, my
grandfather had left a quarter ol' a century before, among a
variety of other articles, several side-saddles.  The rest of
us proceeded on foot, though we had no less than three
sumpter beasts to carry our food, instruments, clothes, &c.
Each man was armed, almost as a matter of course in that
day, though I carried a double-barrelled fowling-piece myself, instead of a rifle. Susquesus acted as our guide.
We were quite an hour before we reached the limits of
the settled farms on my own property; after which, we en.
tered the virgin forest.  In consequence of the late war,
which had brought everything like the settlement of the
country to a dead stand, a new district had then little of the
straggling, suburb-like clearings, which are apt now to en.
circle the older portions of a region that is in the state of
transition. On the contrary, the last well-fenced and reasonably well-cultivated farm passed, we plunged into the boundless woods, and took a complete leave of nearly every vestige
of civilized life, as one enters the fields on quitting a town
In France. There was a path, it is true, following the line
of blazed trees; but it was scarcely beaten, and was almost
as illegible as a bad hand. Still, one accustomed to the
forest had little difficulty in following it; and Susquesus
would have had none in finding his way, had there been no
path at all. As for the Chainbearer, he moved forward too,
with the utlmost precision and confidence, the habit of run.
ning straight lines amid trees having given his eye an accu.
racy that almost equalled the species of instinct that was
manifested by the Trackless himself, on such subjects.
This was a pleasant little journey, the depths of the forest
rendering the heats of the season as agreeable as was possi
ble. We were four!Aours in reaching the foot of the little




THE CH AIN BEARER                   191
mountain on which the birds had built their nests, where we
halted to take some refreshments.
Little time is lost at meals in the forest, and we were soon
ready to ascend the hill. The horses were left with the
blacks, Dus accompanying us on foot. As we left the spring
where we had halted, I offered her an arm to aid in the
ascent; but she declined it, apparently much amused that it
should have been offered.
"s What I, a chainbearess!" she cried, laughing —" I, who
have fairly wearied out Frank, and even made my unclefeel
tired, though he would never own it - I accept an arm to
help me up a hill! You forget, major Littlepage, that the
first ten years of my life were passed in a forest, and that a
year's practice has brought back all my old habits, and
made me a girl of the woods again."
" I scarce know what to make of you, for you seem fitted
for any situation in which you may happen to be thrown,"
I answered, profiting by the circumstance that we were out
of the hearing of our companions, who had all moved ahead,
to utter more than I otherwise might venture to say -N" at
one time I fancy you the daughter of one of. my own tenants;
at another, the heiress of some ancient patroon."
Dus laughed again; then she blushed; and, for the remainder of the short ascent, slhe remained silent. Short the
ascent was, and we were soon on the summit of the hill.
So far from needing my assistance, Dus actually left me
behind, exerting herself in a way that brought her up at the
side of the Trackless, who led our'van.  Whether this was
done in order to prove how completely she was a forest girl,
or whether my words had aroused those felings that are
apt to render a female impulsive, is more than I can say
even now; though I suspected at the time that the latter
sensations had quite as much to do with this extraordinary
activity as the former. I was not far behind, however, and
when our party came fairly upon the roost, the Trackless,
Dus and myself, were all close together.
I scarce know how to describe that remarkable scene.
As we drew near to the summit of the hill, pigeons began to
be seen fluttering among the branches over our heads, as
individuals are met along the roads that lead into the suburbs
of a large town. We had probably seen G thousand birds




192           THE C I A I N BE ARER.
glancing around among the trees, before we came in view
of- the roost itself. The numbers increased as we drew
nearer, and presently the forest was alive with them. The
fluttering was incessant, and often startling as we passed
ahead, our march producing a movement in the living crowd,
that really became confounding.  Every tree was literally
covered with nests, many having at least a thousand of
these frail tenements on their branches, and shaded by the
leaves. They often touched each other, a wonderful degree
of order prevailing among the hundreds of thousands of
families that were here assembled. The place had the odour
of a fowl-house, and squabs just fledged sufficiently to trust
themselves in short flights, were fluttering around us'in all
directions, in tens of thousands., To these were to be added
the parents of the young race endeavouring to protect them,
and guide them in a way to escape harm. Although the
birds rose as we approached, and the woods just around us
seemed fairly alive with pigeons, our presence produced no
general commotion; every one of the feathered throng appearing to be so much occupied with its own concerns, as
to take little heed of the visit of a party of strangers, though
of a race usually so formidable to their own. The masses
moved before us precisely as a crowd of human beings yields
to a pressure or a danger on any given point; the vacuum
created by its passage filling in its rear, as the water of the
ocean flows into the track of the keel.
The effect on most of us was confounding, and I can only
compare the sensation produced on myself by the extraordinary tumult to that a man experiences at finding himself
suddenly placee in the midst of an excited throne of human
beings. The unnatural disregard of our persons manif'sted
by the birds greatly heightened the effect, and caused me to
feel as if some unearthly influence reigned in the place.  It
vwas strange, indeed, to be in a mob of the feathered race,
that scarce exhibited a consciousness of one's presence. The
pigeons seemed a world of themselves, and too much occupied with their own concerns to take heed of matters that
lay beyond them.
Not one of our party spoke for several minutes. Astonish.
ment seemed to hold us all tongue-tied, and we moved slotvly
forward into the fluttering throng, silent, absorbed, and full




THE CHAINBEARER.                    193
of admiration of the works of the Creator. It was not easy
to hear each other's voices when we did speak, the incessant
fluttering of wings filling the air. Nor were the birds silent
in other respects.  The pigeon is not a noisy creature, but
a million crowded together on the summit of one hill, occupying aspace of less than a mile square, did not leave the
forest in its ordinary impressive stillness. As we advanced
I offered my arm, almost unconsciously, again to Dus, an
she took it with the same abstracted manner as that in which
it had been held forth for her acceptance. In this relation to
each other, we continued to follow the grave-looking Onondago, as he moved, still deeper and deeper, into the midstof the fluttering tumult.
At this instant there occurred an interruption that, I am
ready enough to confess, caused the blood to rush towards
my own heart in a flood. As for Dus, she clung to me, as
woman will cling to man, when he possesses her confidence,
and she feels that she is insufficient for her own support.
Both hands were on my arm, and I felt that, unconsciously,
her form was pressing closer to mine, in a manner she
would have carefully avoided in a moment of perfect selfpossession. Nevertheless, I cannot say that Dus was afraid.
Her colour was heightened, her charming eyes were filled
with a wonder that was not unmixed with curiosity, but
her air was spirited in spite of a scene that might try
the nerves of the boldest man.  Sureflint and Chainbearer
were alone totally unmoved; for they had been at pigeon's
roosts before, and knew what to expect. To them the won.
ders of the woods were no longer novel. Each stood leaning
on his rifle, and smiling at our evident astonishment. I am
wrong; the Indian did not even smile; for that would have
been an unusual indication of feeling for him to manifest;
but he did betray a sort of covert consciousness that the
scene must be astounding to us. But, I will endeavour to
explain what it was that so largely increased the first effect
of our visit.
While standing wondering at the extraordinary scene
aroufid us, a noise was heard rising above that of the in
cessant fluttering, which I can only liken to that of the
trampling of thousands of horses on a beaten road. This
17




194          THE CHAINBEARElr.
noise at first sounded distant, but it increased rapidly in
proximity and power, until it came rolling in upon us,
among the tree-tops, like a crash of thunder.  The air was
suddenly darkened, and the place where we stood as sombre
as a dusky twilight. At the same instant, all the pigeons
near us, that had been on their nests, appeared to all out
of them, and the space immediately above our heads was
at once filled with birds.  Chaos itself could hardly have
represented greater confusion, or a greater uproar.  As for
the birds, they now seemed to disregard our presence en.
tirely; possibly they could not see us on account of their
own numbers; for they fluttered in between Dus and myself, hitting us with their wings, and at times appearing as
if about to bury us in avalanches of pigeons. Each of us
caught one at least in our hands, while Chainbearer and the
Indian took them in some numbers, letting one prisoner go
as another was taken. In a word, we seemed to be in a
world of pigeons. This part of the scene may have lasted
a minute, when' the space around us was suddenly cleared,
the birds glancing upwards among the branches of the trees,
disappearing among the foliage. All this was the effect produced by the return of the female birds, which had been off
at a distance, some twenty miles at least, to feed on beechnuts, and which now assumed the places of the male-s on
the nests; the latter taking a flight to get their meal in their
turn.
I have since had the curiosity to make a sort of' an estimate of the number of the birds that must have come in
upon the roost, in that, to us, memorable minute. Such a
calculation, as a matter of course, must be very vague,
though one may get certain principles by estimating the size
of a flock by the known rapidity of' the'flight, and other
similar means; and I remember that Frank Malbone and
myself supposed that a million of birds must have come in
on that return, and as many departed! As the pigeon is a
very voracious bird, the question is apt to present itself,
where food is obtained for so many mouths; but, when we
remember the vast extent of the American forests, this diffi.
culty is at once met. Admitting that the colony we visited
contained many millions of birds, and, counting old and
young, I have no doubt it did, there was probably a fruit.




THE CHAINBEARER.                    195
bearing tree for each, within an hour's flight from that very
spot!
Such is the scale on which nature labours in the wilder.
ness-! I have seen insects fluttering in the air at particular
seasons, and at particular places, until they formed little
clouds; a sight every one must have witnessed on many
occasions; and as those insects appeared, on their diminished scale, so did the pigeons appear to us at the roost of
Mooseridge. We passed an hour in the town of the birds,
finding our tongues and our other faculties as we became
accustomed to our situation.  In a short time, even Dus
grew as composed as at all cornported with the excitement
natural to one in such a place; and we studied the habits
of the pretty animals with a zest that I found so much the
greater for studying them in her company. At the end of
the hour we left the hill, our departure producing no more
sensation in that countless tribe of pigeons than our arrival.
" It is a proof that numbers can change our natures,"
said Dus, as we descended the little mountain. " Here have
we been almost in contact with pigeons which would not
have suffered us to come within a hundred feet of them had
they been in ordinary flocks, or as single birds. Is it that
numbers give them courage?"
-" Confidence, rather.  It is just so with men; who will
exhibit an indifference in crowds that they rarely possess
when alone. The sights, interruptions, and even dangers
tha. will draw all our attention when with a few, often seem
indifferent to us when in the tumult of a throng of fellow.
creatu res."
c" What is meant by a panic in an army, then?"
" It is following the same law, making man subject to
the imp.ulses of those around him.  If the impulse be onward, onward we go; if for retreat, we run like sheep. If
occupied with ourselves as a body, we disregard trifling interruptions, as these pigeons have just done in our own case.
Large bodies of animats, whether human or not, seem to
become subject to certain general laws that increase the
power of the whole over the acts and feelings of any one or
any few of their number."
" According to that rule, our new republican formn of go.
vernment ought to be a very strong one; though I have




196          THE CHAINBEAREII.
heard many express their fears it will be no government
at all."
" Unless a miracle be wrought in our behalf, it will be
the strongest government in the world for certain purposes,
and the weakest for others. It professes a principle of selfpreservation that is not enjoyed by other systems, since the
people must revolt against themselves to overturn it; but,
on the other hand, it will want the active, living principle
of steady, consistent justice, since there will be no independent power whose duty and whose interest it will be to see:t administered. The wisest man I ever knew has prophesied to me that this is the point on which our system will
break down; rendering the character, the lVerson and the
property of the citizen insecure, and consequently the institutions odious to those who once have loved them."
"I trust there is no danger of that!" said Dus, quickly. -
"There is danger from everything that man controls.
We have those among us who preach the possible perfection
of the human race, maintaining the gross delusion that men
are what they are known to be, merely because they have
been ill-governed; and a more dangerous theory, in my
poor judgment, cannot be broached."
"You think, then, that the theory is false?"
"Beyond a question-governments are oftener spoiled by
men than men by governments; though the last certainly
have a marked influence on character. The best government of which we know anything, is that of the universe;
and it is so, merely because it proceeds from a single will,
that will being without blemish."
" Your despotic governments are said to be the very worst
in the world."
"They are good or bad as they happen to be administeredr. The necessity of maintaining such governmbnts Vy
force renders them often oppressive; but a government of
numbers may become even more despotic than that of an
individual; since the people will, in some mode or other,
always sustain the oppressed as against the despot, but
rarely, or never, as against themselves. You saw that those
pigeons lost their instinct, under the impulse given by num.
bers. God for ever protect me against the tyranny of num.
oers 1"




THIE CIAINBEARER.                        197
"B' ut everybody says our system is admirable, and the
best in the world; and even a despot's government is the
government of a man."
" It is one of the effects of numbers that men shrink from
speaking the truth, when they find themselves opposed to
large majorities. As respects self-rule, the colonies were
ever freer than the mother country; and we are, as yet,
merely pursuing our ancient practices, substituting allegiance
to the confederation for allegiance to the king. The difference is not sufficiently material to produce early changes.
We are to wait until that which there is of new principles in
our present system shall have time to work radical changes,
when we shall begin to ascertain how much better we really
are than our neighbours."*
Dus and I continued to converse on this subject until she
got again into the saddle. I was delighted with her good
sense and intelligence, which were made apparent more in
the pertinacity of her questions than by any positive know.
ledge she had on such subjects, which usually have very
few attractions for young women. Nevertheless, Dus had
an activity of mind and a readiness of perception that sup.
plied many of the deficiencies of education on these points;
and I do not remember to have ever been engaged in a poli.
tical discussion from which I derived so much satisfaction.
I must own, however, it is possible that the golden hair
flying about a face that was just as ruddy as comported
* At the time of which Mr. Mordaunt Littlepage is here speaking,
it was far less the fashion to extol the institutions than it is to-day.
Men then openly wrote and spoke against them, while few dare, at
the present time, point out faults that every person of intelligence
knows and feels to be defects. A few years since, when Jackson was
placed in the White House, it was the fashion of Europe to predict
that we had elevated a soldier to power, and that the government of
the bayonet was at hand. This every intelligent American knew to
be rank nonsense. The approach of the government of the bayonet
among us, if it is ever to come, may be foreseen by the magnitude of
popular abuses, against which force is the only remedy. Every wellwisher of the freedom this country has hitherto enjoyed, should now
look upon the popular tendencies with distrust, as, whenever it is
taken away, it will go as their direct consequence; it being an in.
herent principle in the corrupt nature of man to misuse all his privileges; even those connected with religion itself. If history proves
anvthing, it proves this. - EDITOR.
17 




198           THE  CHAINBEARER.
with the delicacy of the sex, the rich mouth, the brilliant
teeth, and the spirited and yet tender blue eyes, may have
increased a wisdom that I found so remarkable.
CHAPTER XV.
"Fie, fie, fond love, thou art so full of fear,
As one with treasure laden, hemmed with thieves;
Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or ear,
Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves."
Venus and Adonis.
THE hut, or huts of Chainbearer, had far more comfort
in and around them, than I was prepared to find. They
were three in number, one having been erected as a kitchen,
and a place to contain the male slaves; another for the special accommodation of Ursula and the female black; and
the third to receive men. The eating-room was attached to
the kitchen; and all these buildings, which had now stood
an entire year, were constructed of logs, and were covered
with bark.  They were roughly made, as usual; but that
appropriated to Dus was so much superior to the others in
its arrangements, internal and external, as at once to denote
the presence and the influence of woman. It may have
some interest with the reader briefly to describe the place.
Quite as a matter of course, a spring had been found, as
the first consideration in " locating," as it is called by that
portion of our people who get upon their conversational
stilts. The spring burst out of the side of a declivity, the
land stretching away, for more than a mile from its foot, in
an inclined plane that was densely covered with some of the
noblest elms, beeches, maples and black birches, I have
ever seen. This spot, the Chainbearer early assured me,
was the most valuable of all the lands of Mooseridge. He
had selected it because it was central, and particularly clear
from underbrush; besides having no stagnant water near it.
In other respects, it was like any other point in that vast




TIIE  CIIAINBEARER.                  199
forest; bein dark, shaded, and surrounded by the magnificence of a bountiful vegetation.
Here Chainbearer had erected his hut, a low, solid struc.
ture of pine logs, that were picturesque in appearance, and
not without their rude comforts, in their several'ways. These
buildings were irregularly placed, though the spring was in
their control. The kitchen and eating-room was nearest the
water; at no great distance from these was the habitation
of the men; while the smaller structure, which Frank Malbone laughingly termed the " harem," stood a little apart,
on a slight spur of land, but within fifty yards of Andries'
own lodgings. Boards had been cut by hand, for the floors
and doors of these huts, though no building but the " harem"
had any window that was glazed. This last had two such
windows, and Frank had even taken care to provide for his
sister's dwelling, rude but strong window-shutters.
As for defences against an enemy, they were no longer
thought of within the limits of New York. Block-houses,
and otherwise fortified dwellings, had been necessary, so
long as the French possessed Canada; but, after the capture
of that colony, few had deemed any such precautions called
for, until the war of the revolution brought a savage foe
once more among the frontier settlements; frontier, as to
civilization, if not as to territory. With the termination of
that war had ceased this, the lat6st demand for provisions
of that nature; and the Chainbearer had not thought of
using any care to meet the emergencies of violence, in
"making his pitch."
Nevertheless, each hut would have been a reasonably
strong post, on an emergency; the logs being bullet-proof,
and still remaining undecayed and compact. Palisades were.not thought of now, nor was there any covered means of
communicating between one hut and another.  In a word,
whatever there might be in the way of security in these
structures, was the result of the solidity of their material,
and of the fashion of building that was then, and is still
customary everywhere in the forest. As against wild beasts
there was entire protection, and other enemies were no
longer dreaded. Around the huts there were no enclosures
of any sort, nor any other cleared land, than a spot of about
half all acre in extent, off of' whicl had been cut the small




200           THE  C 1AINBEARER.
pines that furnished the logs of which they were built. A
few vegetables had been put into the ground at the most
open point; but a fence being unnecessary, none had been
built. As for the huts, they stood completely shaded by the
forest, the pines having been cut on an eminence a hundred
yards distant. This spot, however, small as it was, brought
enough of the commoner sort of plants to furnish a fruga
table.
Such was the spot that was then known in all that region
by the name of the " Chainbearer's Huts." This name has
been retained, and the huts are still standing, circumstances
having rendered them  memorable in my personal history,
and caused me to direct their preservation, at least as long
as I shall live. As the place had been inhabited a consider.
able time that spring and summer, it bore some of the other
signs of the presence of man; but, on the whole, its charac.
ter as a residence was that of deep forest seclusion.  In
point of fact, it stood buried in the woods, distant fully fifteen
miles from the nearest known habitation, and in so much
removed from the comfort, succour and outward communications of civilized life. These isolated abodes, however,
are by no means uncorrmmon in the State, even at the present hour; and it is probable that some of them will be to
be found during the whole of this century.  It is true, that
the western, middle, southern, south-western, north-western
and north-eastern counties of New York, all of which were
wild, or nearly so, at the time of which I am writing, are
already well settled, or are fast filling up; but, there is a
high, mountainous region, in middle-northern New York,
which will remain virtually a wilderness, I should think,
for quite a century, if not longer.  I have travelled through
this district of wilderness very lately, and have found it
picturesque and well suited for the sportsman, abounding in
(leer, fish and forest-birds, but not so much suited to the
commoner wants of man, as to bring it very soon into demand for the ordinary purposes of the husbandman. If this
quarter of the country do not fall into the hands of lawless
squatters and plunderers of one sort and another, of which
there is always some danger in a country of so great extent,
it will become a very pleasant resort of the sportsman, who




THE CHAINBEARER.                    201
is likely to soon lose his haunts in the other quarters of the
State.
Jaap had brought over some horses of mine from the
Nest as sumpter-beasts, and these being sent back for want
of provender, the negro himself remained at the " Huts" as
a general assistant, and as a sort of hunter. A Westchester
negro is pretty certain to be a shot, especially if he happen
to belong to the proprietor of a Neck; for there is no jea.
lousy of trusting arms in the hands of our New York slaves.
But, Jaap having served, in a manner, was entitled to burn
as much gunpowder as he pleased. By means of one of his
warlike exploits, the old fellow had become possessed of a
very capital fowling-piece, plunder obtained from some slain
English officer, I always supposed; and this arm he invariably kept near his person, as a trophy of his own success.
The shooting of Westchester, however, and that of the forest,
were very different branches of the same art. Jaap belonged
to the school of the former, in which the pointer and setter
were used. The game was " put up" and " marked down,"
and the bird was invariably shot on the wing. My attention
was early called to this distinction, by overhearing a conversation between the negro and the Indian, that took place
within a few minutes after our arrival, and a portion of
which I shall now proceed to relate.
Jaap and Sureflint' were, in point of fact, very old acquaintances, and fast friends. They had been actors in
certain memorable scenes, on those very lands of Mooseridge, some time before my birth, and had often met and
served as comrades during the last war. The known anti.
pathy between the races of the red and black man did not
exist as between them; though the negro regarded the Indian with some of that self-sufficiency which the domestic
servant would be apt to entertain for a savage roamer of the
forest; while the Onondago could not but look on my fellow
as one of the freest of the free would naturally feel disposed
to look on one who was content to live in bondage. These
feelings were rather mitigated than extinguished by their
friendship, and often made themselves manifest in the course
of their daily communions with each other.
A bag filled with squabs had been brought from the roost,
Qnd Jaap had emptied it of its contents on the ground near




202          THE CHAIN1EARER
the kitchen, to commence the necessary operations of pick'
ing and cleaning, preparatory to handing the birds over to
the cook. As for the Onondago, he took his seat near by
on a log very coolly, a spectator of his companion's labours
but disdaining to enter in person on such woman's work,
now that he was neither on a message nor on a war-path.
Necessity alone could induce him to submit to any menial
labcur, nor do I believe he would have offered to assist, had
lie seen the fair hands of Dus herself plucking these pigeons.
To him it would have appeared perfectly suitable that a
" squaw" should do the work of a " squaw," while a warrior
maintained his dignified idleness. Systematic and intelligent
industry are the attendants of civilization, the wants created
by which can only be supplied by the unremitted care of
those who live by their existence.
" Dere, ole Sus," exclaimed the negro, shaking the last
or the dead birds, from the bag-" dere, now, Injin; I s'pose
you t'inks'em ere's-game!'
"What you call him, eh?" demanded the Onondago,
eyeing the negro sharply.
"I doesn't call'em  game a bit, red-skin. Dem's not
varmint, n'oder; but den, dem isn't game. Game's game
I s'pose you does know, Sus?"
"Game, game —good. T'at true-who say no?"
"Yes, it's easy enough to say a t'ing, but it not so berry
easy to understan', Can any Injin in York State, now, tell
me why pigeon isn't game?"
" Pigeon game-good game, too. Eat sweet-many time
want more."
" Now, I do s'pose, Trackless"-Jaap loved to run through
the whole vocabulary of the Onondago's names-" Now, I
do s'pose, Trackless, you t'ink tame pigeon just as good as
wild?"
" Don't know-nebber eat tame-s'pose him good, too."
"Well, den, you s'poses berry wrong. Tame pigeon poor
stuff; but no pigeon be game. Nuttin' game, Sureflint, dat
a dog won't p'int, or set. Masser Mordaunt h'an't got ne
dog at de Bush or de Toe, and he keeps dogs enough at bot'
dat would p'int a pigeon."
" P'int deer, eh?"
"Well, I doesn't know. P'raps he will, p'raps he wont.




T IE CII AINBEA R ER.                203
Dere isn't no deer in Westchester- for us to try de dogs on,
so a body can't tell. You remem'er'e day, Sus, when we
fit your red-skins out here,'long time ago, wit' Masser
Corny and Masser Ten Eyck, and ole Masser Herman
Mordaunt, and Miss Anneke, and Miss Mary, an' your
frien' Jumper?-You remern'er dat, ha! Onondago?"
"Sartain-no forgeF-Injin nebber forget.  Don't fbrget
friend-don't forget enemy."
Here Jaap raised one of his shouting negro laughs, in
which all the joyousness of his nature seemed to enter with
as much zest as if he were subjected to-a sort of mental
tickling; then he let the character of his merriment be seen
by his answer.
"Sartain'nough —you remem'er dat feller, Muss, Trackless? He get heself in a muss by habbing too much mem'ry.
Good to hab mem'ry when you told to do work; but sometime mem'ry bad'nough. Berry bad to hab so much mem'ry
dat he can't forget small flogin'."
"No true," answered the Onondago, a little sternly,
though a very little; for, while he and Jaap disputed daily,
they rever quarrelled —" No true, so. Flog bad for back."
" Well, dat because you red-skin - a colour' man don't
mind him as much as dis squab.  Get use to him in lit'
while; den he nuttin' to speak of."
Sureflint made no answer, but he looked as if he pitied
the ignorance, humility and condition of his friend.
" What you t'ink of dis worl', Susquesus?" suddenly de.
manded the negro, tossing a squab that he had cleaned into
a pail, and taking another.  "How you t'ink white man
come? — how you t'ink red man come? — how you t'ink
colour' gentl'em come, eh?"
" Great Spirit say so - t'en all come.  Fill Injin full of
blood -t'at make him red-fill nigger wit' ink — t'at make
him black-pale-face pale'cause he live in sun, and colour
dry out."
Here Jaap laughed so loud, that he drew all three of
Chainbearer's blacks to the door, who joined in the fun out
of pure sympathy, though' they could not have known its
cause. Those blacks! They may be very miserable as
slaves; but it is certain no other class in America laugh so
often, or so easily, or one-half as heartily.




2i04          T IlE C IAINBEAR ER.
" Ha rkec, Injin" - relrul(dn Jaap, a.s sooui as ht had laughed as much as he wished to do at that particular moment" Harkee, Injin —you t'ink'arth round, or'arth flat?"
" How you mean? -'arth up and down- no round -no
flat."
"Dat not what I mean.  Bot' up and down in one sens',
but no up and down in'noder. Masstr Mordaunt, now, anl
Masser Corny too, bot' say'arth round like an apple, and
dat he'd stand one way in day-time, an''noder way in night.
time.  Now, what you t'ink of dat, Injin?"
The Tracklesslistened gravely, but he expressed neither
assent nor dissent.  I knew he had a respect for both my
fhther and myself; but it was asking a great deal of him to
credit that the world was round; nor did he understand how
one could be turned over in the manner Jaap pretended.
" S'pose it so," he remarked, after a pause of reflection"S'pose it so, den man stand upside down?  Man stand
on foot; no stand on head."
"'Worl' turn' round, Injin; dat a reason why you stand
on he head one time; on he foot'noder."
1 "Who tell t'at tradition, Jaap? Nebber heard him afore."
"' Masser Corny tell me dat, long time ago; when I war'
ft3e boy. Ask Masser Mordaunt one day, and he tell you
a same story., Ebberybody say dat but Masser Dirck Follock; and he say to me, one time,' it true, Jaap, t'e book
do say so-and your Masser Corny believe him; but I want
to see t'e worl' turn round, afore I b'lieve it.' Dat what
colonel Follock say, Trackless; you know he berry honest."
" Good - honest man, colonel - brave warrior - true
friend - b'lieve all he tell, when he know; but don't know
ebbery t'ing. Gen'ral know more-major young, but know
more."
Perhaps my modesty ought to cause me to hesitate about
recording that which the partiality of so good a friend as
Susquesus might induce him to say; but it is my wish to
be particular, and to relate all that passed on this occasion.
Jaap could not object to the Indian's proposition, for he had
too much love and attachment for his two masters not to
admit at once that they knew more than colonel FollockUo very extravagant assumption, by the way.




TI E C  AINE A RE R.                205
Yes, he good'niougli,,' aunsvwered the black, "but he
don't know half as much as Masser Corny, or Masser Mordaunt. Hie say worl' isn't round; now, I t'ink he look
round."
"What Chainbearer say?" asked the Indian, suddenly,
as if he had determined that his own opinion should be gc
verned by that of a man whom he so well loved. " Chain
bearer nebber lie."
"Nor do Masser Corny, nor Masser Mordaunt!" exclaimed Jaap, a little indignantly.  "You t'ink, Trackless,'eder of my massers lie!"
That was an accusation that Susquesus never intended to
make; though his greater intimacy with, and greater reliance on old Andries had, naturally enough, induced him tc
ask the question he had put.' No say eeder lie," answered the Onondago; " but many
orked tongue about, and maybe hear so, and t'ink so.
Chainbearer stop ear; nebber listen to crooked tongue."
"Well, here come Chainbearer heself, Sus; so, jist for
graterfercashun, you shall hear what'e ole man say. It
berry true, Chainbearer honest man, and I like to know he
opinion myself, sin' it isn't easy, Trackless, to understan'
how a mortal being can stan' up, head down!"
"1 What' mortal being' mean, eh?"
" Why, it mean mortality, Injin-you, mortality —I, mor
tality - Masser Corny, mortality -- Masser Mordaunt, mot
tality - Miss A'nneke, mortality - ebberybody, mortality
but ebberybody not'e same sort of mortality!-Understan'.
now, Sus?"
The Indian shook his head, and looked perplexed; but
the Chainbearer coming up at that moment, that branch of
the matter in discussion was pursued no farther.  After exchanging a few remarks about the pigeons, Jaap did not
scruple to redeem the pledge he had given his red friend,
by plunging at once into the main subject with the Chain
bearer.
"You know how it be wid Injin, Masser Chainbearer,'
said Jaap -"'Ey is always poor missedercated creatur's,
and knows nuttin' but what come by chance-now here be
Surefliult he can no way t'ink dis rvorl' round; and dat it
18




206          THE  CHAINBEARER.
turn round, too; and so he wvant me to ask v. hat you got to
say about dat matter?"
Chainbearer was no scholar. Whatever may be said of
Leyden, and of the many, very many learned Dutchmen it
had sent forth into the world, few of them ever reached
America. Our brethren of the eastern colonies, now States,
had long been remarkable, as a whole, fobr that " dangerous
thing," a " little learning;" but I cannot say that the Dutch
of New York, also viewed as a whole, incurred any of those
risks. To own the truth, it was not a very easy matter to
be more profoundly ignorant, on all things conriected with
science, than were the mass of the uneducated Dutch of New
York, in the year of our Lord, one thousand seven hundred
and eighty-four.  It made little difference as to condition in
life, unless one rose as high as the old colonial aristocracy
of that stock, and an occasional exception in favour of a
family that intended to rear, or had reared in its bosom a
minister of the gospel. Such was the strength of the prejudice among these people, that they distrusted the English
schools, and few permitted their children to enter them;
while those they possessed of their own were ordinarily of a
very low character. These feelings were giving way before
the influence of time, it is true, but it was very slowly; and
it was pretty safe to infer that every man of low Diutch ex.
traction in the colony was virtually uneducated, with the
exception of here and there an individual of the higher social
castes, or one that had been especially favoured by association and circumstances. As for that flippant knowledge, of
which our eastern neighbours possessed so large an amount,
the New York Dutch appeared to view it with peculiar dislike, disdaining to know anything, if it were not of the very
best quality. Still, there were a few to whom this quality
was by no means a stranger.  In these isolated cases, the
unwearied application, pains-taking industry, cautious ap.
preciation of facts, and solid judgment of the parties, had
produced a few men, who only required a theatre for its
exhibition, in order to cause their information to command
the profound respect of the learned, let them live where they
might. What'they did acquire was thoroughly got, though
Beldom paraded for the purposes of mere show.
Old Andries, however, was not of the class just named




THE  C~AINBEARI;R.                    207
fie belonged to the rule, and not to its exception. Beyond
E question, he had heard all the more familiar truths of
science alluded to in discourse, or had seen them in the
pages of books; but they entered into no part of his real
opinions; for he was not sufficiently familiar with the dif.
ferent subjects to feel their truths in a way to incorporate
them with his mind.
" You know'tis sait, Jaap," Chainbearer answered, " t'at
bot' are true. Efery poty wilt tell you so; ant all t'e folks
I haf seen holt t'e same opinions."
" T'ink him true, Chainbearer?" the Onondago somewhat
abruptly demanded.
"I s'pose I must, Sureflint, since all say it.  T'e palefaces, you know, reat a great many pooks, ant get to pe
much wiser t'an ret-men."
" How you make man stan' on head, eh?"
Chainbearer now looked over one shoulder, then over the
other; and fancying no one was near but the two in his
front, he was probably a little more communicative than
might otherwise have been the case. Drawing a little nearer,
like one who is about to deal with a secret, the honest old
man made his reply.
"To pe frank wit' you, Sureflint," he answered, "t'at ist
a question not easily answeret. Eferypoty says'tis so, ant,
t'erefore, I s'pose it must pe so; put I haf often asket myself, if t'is worlt pe truly turnet upsite town at night, how is
it, olt Chainpearer, t'at you ton't roll out of pet?  T'ere's
t'ings in natur' t'at are incomprehensiple, Trackless; quite
incomprehensiple!"
The Indian listened gravely, and it seemed to satisfy his
longings on the subject, to know that they were things in
nature that are incomprehensible.  As for the Chainbearer,
I thought that he changed the discourse a little suddenly on
account of these very incomprehensible things in nature;
for it is certain he broke off on another theme, in a way to
alter all the ideas of his companions, let them ne on their
heads or their heels.
"Is it not true, Jaap, t'at you ant t'e Onondago, here,
wast pot' present at t'e Injin massacre t'at took place in
t'ese parts, pefore t'e revolution, in t'e olt French war?  I
mean t'e time when one Traverse, a surveyor, ant a fer3




208           THE CHAINBEARER.
goot surveyor he was, was kil't, wit' all his chainpearers
ant axe-men?"
"True as gospel, Masser Andries," returned the- negro,.ooking up seriously, and shaking his head -" I was here,
and so was Sus. Dat wast de fuss time we smell gunpowder
togedder. De French Injins was out in droves, and dey cut
off Masser Traverse and all his party, no leaving half a
scalp on a single head. Yes, sah; I remembersdat, as if
t'was last night."
"Ant what was tone wit' t'e poties? You puriet t'e poties,
surely?"
" Sartain -Pete, Masser Ten Eyck's man, was put into
a hole, near Masser Corny's hut, which must be out here,
four or five mile off; while Masser surveyor and his men
were buried by a spring, somewhere off yonder. Am I
right, Injin?"
The Onondago shook his head; then he pointed to the true
direction to each spot that had been mentioned, showing that
Jaap was very much out of the way. I had heard of certain
adventures in which my father had been concerned when a
young man, and in which, indeed, my mother had been in a
degree an actor, but I did not know enough of the events
fully to comprehend the discourse which succeeded. It
seemed that the Chainbearer knew the occurrences by report only, not having been present at the scenes connected
with them; but he felt a strong desire to visit the graves of
the sufferers. As yet, he had not even visited the hut of
Mr. Traverse, the surveyor who had been killed; for, the
work on which he had been employed, being one of detail,
or that of subdividing the great lots laid down before the
revolution, into smaller lots, for present sale, it had not
taken him as yet from the central point where it had commenced. His new assistant chainbearer was not expected
to join us for a day or two; and, after talking the matter
over with his two companions for a few minutes, he announced a determination to go in quest of all the graves the
succeeding morning, with the intention of having suitable
memorials of their existence placed over them.
The evening of that day was calm and delightful. As
the sun was setting I paid Dus a visit, and found her alone in
what she playfully called the drawing-room of her " harem.'




TH E CHAINBEARER.                    209
Luckily there were no mutes to prevent my entrance, the
usual black guardian, of whom there was one, being still in
her kitchen at work.  I was received without embarrassment, and taking a seat on the threshold of the door, I sat
conversing, while the mistress of the place plied her needle
on a low chair within. For a time we talked of the pigeons
and of our little journey in the woods; after which the cDirversation insensibly took a direction towards our present
situation, the past, and the future.  I had adverted to the
Chainbearer's resolution to search for the graves; and, at
this point, I shall begin to record what was said, as it was
said.
"I have heard allusions to those melancholy events,
rather than their history," I added.  "For some cause,
neither of my parents likes to speak of them; though I know
not the reason."
"Their history i-s well known at Ravensnest," answered
Dus; "and it is often related there; at least, as marvels
are usually related in country settlements.  I suppose there
is a grain of truth mixed up with a pound of error."
" I see no reason for misprpresenting in an affair of that
sort."'
"There is no other than the universal love of the mar.
vellous, which causes most people to insist on having it in.
troduced into a story, if it do not happen to come in legitimately. Your true country gossip is never satisfied with
fact.  He (or she would be the better word) insists on exercising a dull imagination at invention. In this case, however, from all I can learn, more fact and less invention has
been used than common."
We then spoke of the outlines of the story each had
heard, and we found that, in the main, our tales agreed. In
making the comparison, however, I found that I was dis.
posed to dwell most on the horrible features of the incidents,
whife Dus, gently and almost insensibly, yet infallibly, inclined to those that were gentler, and which had more connection with the affections.
" Your account is much as mine, and both must be true
in the main, as you got your's from  the'principal actors,"
Ahe said; " but our gossips relate certain points connected
with love and marriage, about which you have been silent.
18*




210           T IE CIIAINB EARER.
"' Let me hear them, then," I cried; " for I never was
in a bletter mood to converse of love and marriage," laying a strong emphasis on the last word, "than at this mo-.
ment!"
The girl started, blushed, compressed her lips, and con.
tinued silent for half a minute.  I could see that her hand
trembled, but she was too much accustomed to extraordinary
situations easily to lose her self-command. It was nearly
dusk, too, and the obscurity in which she sat within the
hut, which was itself beneath the shade of tall trees, most
probably aided her efforts to seem unconscious.  Yet, I had
spoken warmly, and, as I soon saw, in a manner that demanded explanation, though at the moment quite without
plan, and scarcely with the consciousness of what I was
doing. I decided not to retreat, but to go on, in doing which
I should merely obey an impulse that was getting to be too
strong for much further restraint; that was not the precise
moment, nevertheless, in which I was resolved to speak, but
I waited rather for the natural course of things.  In the
mean time, after the short silence mentioned, the discourse
continued.
"All I meant," resumed Dus, " was the tradition which
is related among your tenants, that your parents were
united in consequence of the manner in which your father
defended Herman Mordaunt's dwelling, his daughter included- though Herman Mordaunt himself preferred some
English lord for his son-in-law, and-but I ought to repeat
no more of this silly tale."
"' Let me hear it all, though it be the loves of my own
parents."
" I dare say it is not true; for what vulgar report of private feelings and private acts ever is so?  My tradition
added, that Miss Mordaunt was, at first, captivated by the
brilliant qualities of the young lord, though she much preferred general Littlepage in the'end; and that her marriage
has been most happy."
"' Your tradition, then, has not done my mother justice,
but is faulty in many things. Your young lord was merely
a baronet's heir: and I know from my dear grandmother
that my mother's attachment to my father commenced when
she was a mere child, and was the consequence of his re.




THE CHAINBEARER.                    211
renting an insult she r~eeived at the time from some other
boy."
" I am glad of that!" exclaimed Dus, with an emphasis
so marked, that I. was surprised at the earnestness of her
manner.  "Second attachments in women to me always
seem misplaced. There was another vein to my tradition,
which tells of a lady who lost her betrothed the night the
Nest was assailed, and who has ever since lived unmarried,
true to his memory. That is a part of the story I have ever
loved!"
" Was her name Wallace?" I asked, eagerly.
" It was; Mary Wallace-and I have honoured the name
ever since I heard the circumstances. In my eyes, Mr.
Littlepage, there can be no picture more respectable than
that of a female remaining true to her first attachments,
under all circumstances; in death, as well as in life."
"-Or in mine, beloved Ursula!" I cried - but, I will not
make a fool of myself, by attempting to record what I said
next.  The fact was, that Dus had been winding herself
round my heart for the last few weeks in a way that would
have defied any attempts of mine to extricate it from the
net into which it had fallen, had I the wish to do so.  But,
I had considered the matter, and saw no reason to desire
freedom from the dominion of Ursula Malbone. To me,
she appeared all that man could wish, and I saw no impedi.
ment to a union in the circumstance of her poverty.  Her
family and education were quite equal to my own; and
these very important considerations admitted, I had fortune
enough for both. It was material that we should have the
habits, opinions, prejudices if you will, of the same social
caste; but beyond this, worldly considerations, in my view
of the matter, ought to have no influence.
Under such notions, therefore, and guided by the strong
impulse of a generous and manly passion, I poured out my
whole soul to Dus. I dare say I spoke a quarter of an
hour without once being interrupted. I did not wish to hear
my companion's voice; for I had the humility which is said
to be the inseparable attendant of a true love, and was fearful that the answer might not be such as I could wish te
near.  I could perceive, spite of the increasing obscurity,
that Dus was strongly agitated; and wil! Confess a lively




212           T IE  CI A IN  EARER.
hope was created within ine by this circumstance.  Thus
encouraged, it was -natural to lose my fears in the wish to
be more assured; and I now pressed for a reply. After a
brief pause, I obtained it in the following words, which were
uttered with a tremor and sensibility that gave them tenfold
weight.
"For this unexpected, and I believe sincere declaration,
Mr. Littlepage, I thank you from the bottom of my heart,"
the precious creature commenced. "There are a frankness,
an honourable sincerity and a noble generosity in such a
declaration, coming from you to me, that can never be forgotten. But, I am not my own mistress — my faith is
plighted to another-my affections are with my faith; and
I cannot accept offers which, so truly generous, so truly
noble, demand the most explicit reply-"
I heard no more; for, springing from the floor, and an
attitude that was very nearly that of being on my knees, I
rushed from the hut and plunged into the forest.




T iE CIIAINB EARER.'8
CHAPTER XVI.
Dans. " Ye boys who pluck the flowers, and spoil the spring,
Beware the secret snake that shoots a sting."
Dryden's Eclogues.
FoR the first half hour after I left Ursula Malbone's hut,
I was literally unconscious of whither I was going, or of
what I was about. I can recollect nothing but having pass.
ed quite near to the Onondago, who appeared desirous of
speaking to me, but whom I avoided by a species of instinct
rather than with any design. In fact, fatigue first brought
me fairly to my senses. I had wandered miles and miles,
plunging deeper and deeper into the wilds of the forest, and
this without any aim, or any knowledge of even the direction in which I was going.  Night soon came to cast its
shadows on the earth, and my uncertain course was held
amid the gloom of the hour, united to those of the woods. I
had wearied myself by rapid walking over the uneven sur.
face of the forest, and finally threw myself on the trunk of
a fallen tree, willing to take some repose.
At first, I thought of nothing, felt for nothing but the unwelcome circumstance that the faith of Dus was plighted to
another. Had I fallen in love with Priscilla Bayard, such
an announcement could not have occasioned the same surprise; for she lived in the world, met with men of suitable
educations, conditions and opinions, and might be supposed
to have been brought within the influence of the atentions
and sympathies that are wont to awaken tenderness in the
female breast. With Dus, it had been very different: she
had gone from the forest to theschool, and returned from
the school to the forest. It was true, that her brother, while




214           THE C  A 1N  EAR E R.
a soldier, might have had some friend who admired Ursula,
and whose admiration awakened her youthful sympathies
but this was only a remote probability, and I was left bur.
thened with a load of doubt as respected even the character
and position of my rival.
" At any rate, he must be poor," I said to myself, the
moment I was capable of reflecting coolly on the subject,
" or he would never have left I)us in that hut, to pass her
youth amid chainbearers and the other rude beings of a
friontier. If I cannot obtain her love, [ may at least contribute to her happiness by using those means which a kind Providence has bestowed, and enabling her to marry at once."
For a little while I fancied my own misery would be less.
ened, could I only see Dus married and happy. This feeling did not last long, however; though I trust the desire to
see her happy remained after I became keenly conscious it
would require much time to enable me to look on such a
spectacle with composure. Nevertheless, the first tranquil
moment, the'first relieving sensation I experienced, was
fiom the conviction I felt that Providence had placed it in
my power to cause Ursula and the man of her choice to be
united. This recollection gave me even a positive pleasure
for a little while, and I ruminated on the means of effecting
it, literally for hours. I was still thinking of it, indeed,
when I threw myself on the fallen tree, where weariness
caused me to fall into a troubled sleep, that lasted, with
more or less of forgetfulness, several hours.  The place I
had chosen on the tree was among its branches, on which
the leaves were still hanging, and it was not without its
conveniences.
When I awoke, it was day-light; or, such a day-light as
penetrates the forest ere the sun has risen.  At first I fell
stiff and sore from the hardness of my bed; but, on chang
ing my attitude and sitting up, these sensations soon wore
off, leaving me refreshed and calm. To my great surprise,
however, I found that a small, light blanket, such as woodmen use in summer, had been thrown-over me, to the genial warmth of which I was probably indebted more than I
then knew myself. This circumstance alarmed me at first,
since it was obvious the blanket could not have come there
without hands; though a moment's reflection satisfied me




TIlE C IAINBEARER.                  215
that the throwing it over me, under the circumstances, must
have been the act of a friend. I arose, however to my feet,
walked along the trunk of the tree until clear of its branches,
and looked about me with a lively desire to ascertain who
this secret friend might be.
Tile place was like any other in the solitude of the forest.
There were the usual array of the trunks of stately trees,
the leafy canopy, the dark shadows, the long vistas, the
brown and broken surface of the earth, and the damp cool..
ness of the boundless woods.  A fine spring broke out of a
hill-side, quite near me, and looking further, with the intention to approach and use its water, the mystery of the
blanket was at once explained. I saw the form of the
Onondago, motionless as one of the trees which grew around
him, leaning on his rifle, and seemingly gazing at some
object that lay at his feet. In a minute I was at his side,
when I discovered that he was standing over a human ske.
leton! This was a strange and startling object to meet in
the depth of the woods!  Man was of so little account, was
so seldom seen in the virgin wilds of America, that one
naturally felt more shocked at finding such a memorial of
his presence, in a place like that, than would have been the
case had he stumbled on it amid peopled districts. As for
the Indian, he gazed at the bones so intently that he either
did not hear, or he totally disregarded my approach. I
touched him with a finger before he even looked up. Glad
of any excuse to avoid explanation of my own conduct, I
eagerly seized the occasion offered by a sight so' unusual,
to speak of other things.
"This has been a violent death, Sureflint," I said; "else
the body would not have been left unburied. The man has
been killed in some quarrel of the red warriors."
" Was bury," answered the Indian, without manifesting
the least surprise at my touch, or at the sound of my'voice.
" Dere, see grave?'Arth wash away, and bones come out.
Nuttin' else. Know he bury, for help bury, myself."
"Do you, then, know anything of this unhappy man, and
of the cause of his death?"'
" Sartain; know all'bout him.  Kill in ole French war.
Pader here; and colonel Follock; Jaap, too. Huron kill




216          THE CHAIN B EARER.'em all; afterward, we flog Huron.  Yes, dat ole story
now 
" I have heard something of this! This must have been
the spot, then, where one Traverse, a surveyor, was set
upon by the enemy, and was slain, with his chainbearers
and axe-men. -My father and his friends did find the bodies
and bury them, after a fashion."
"Sartain; just so; poor bury, d'ough, else he nebber
come out of groun'. Dese bones of surveyor; know'em
well: hab one leg broke, once.  Dere; you see mark."
"Shall we dig a new grave, Susquesus, and bury the
remains again?"
"' Best not, now. Chainbearer mean do dat. Be here
by-'m-bye. Got somet'ing else t'ink of now. You own
all land'bout here, so no need be in hurry>'
" I suppose that my father and colonel Follock do. These
men were slain on the estate, while running out its great
lots. I think I have heard they had not near finished their
work in this quarter of the patent, which was abandoned on
account of the troubles of that day."
"Just so; who own mill, here, den?"
" There is no mill near us, Susquesus; can be no mill,
as not an acre of the Ridge property has ever been sold or
leased."
" May be so-mill dough-not far off, needer.  Know
mill Nwhen hear him. Saw talk loud."
"You surely do not hear the saw of a mill now, my
friend. I can hear nothing like one."
" No hear, now; dat true. But hear him in night. Ear
good, in night-hear great way off."
" You are right enough, there, Susquesus.  And you
fancied you heard the stroke of a saw, from this place:
during the quiet and heavy air of the past night?"
"Sartain-know  well; hear him plain enough. Isn't
mile off. Out here; find him dere."
This was still more startling than the discovery of the
skeleton. I had a rough, general map of the patent in my
pocket; and, on examination, I faund a mill-stream was laid
down on it, quite near the spot where we stood. The
appearance of the woods, and the formation of the land,
moreover, favoured the idea of the proximity of a mill




THE CHAINBEARER.                     211
Pine was plenty, and the hills were beginning to swell into
something resembling mountains.
Fasting, and the exercise I had taken, had giveu me a
keen appetite; and, in one sense at least, I was not sorry to
believe that human habitations were near.  Did any persons
Jw' ll in that forest, they were squatters, but I did not feel
much personal apprehension in encountering such men;
especially when my only present object was to ask for food'['he erecting of a mill denoted a decided demonstration, it is
true, and a little reflection might have told me that its occupants would not be delighted by a sudden visit from the
representative of the owners of the soil.  On the other
hand, however, the huts were long miles away, and neither
Sureflint nor I had the smallest article of food about us.
Both were hungry, though the Onondago professed indiffer.
ence to the feeling, an unconcern I could not share with him,
owing to habits of greater self-indulgence. Then I had a
strong wish to solve this mystery of the mill, in addition to
a feverish desire to awaken within me some new excitement,
as a counterpoise to that I still keenly felt in behalf of my
disappointed love.
Did I not so well understand the character of my companion, and the great accuracy of Indian senses, I might
have hesitated about going on what seemed to be a fool's
errand.  But circumstances, that were then of recent origin, existed to give some countenance to the conjecture of
Sureflint, if conjecture his precise knowledge could be
called. Originally, New York claimed the Connecticut for
a part of its eastern boundary, but large bodies of settlers
had crossed that stream, coming mainly from the adjacen:
colony of New Hampshire, and these persons had become
formidable by'their positions and numbers, some time anterior to the Revolution.  During that struggle, these hardy
mountaineers had manifested a spirit favourable to the colonies, in the main, though every indication of an intention to
settle their claims was met by a disposition to declare them.
selves neutral.  In a word, they were sufficiently patriotic
if left to do as they pleased in the matter of their possessions, but not sufficiently so to submit to the regular admin
istration of the law. About the close of the war, the leaders
of this self-created colony were more than suspected of
19




218           THE CHAINBEARER.
coquetting with the English authorities; not that they pre.
ferred the government of the crown, or any other control, to
their own, but because the times were favourable to playing
off their neutrality, in this manner, as a means of securing
themselves in the possession of lands to which their titles, in
the ordinary way, admitted of a good deal of dispute, to say
the least. The difficulty was by no means disposed of by
the peace of'83; but the counties, that were then equally
known by the name of Vermont, and that of the Hampshire
Grants, were existing, in one sense, as a people apart, not
yet acknowledging the power of the confederacy; nor did
they come into the union, under the constitution of 1789,
until all around them had done so, and the last spark of
opposition to the new system had been extinguished.
It is a principle of moral, as well as of physical nature,
that like should produce like. The right ever vindicates
itself, in the process of events, and the sins of the fathers are
visited upon the children, even to the third and fourth gene.
rations, in their melancholy consequences. It was impossible that an example of such a wrong could be successfully
exhibited onil a large scale, without producing its deluded
imitators, on another that was better suited to the rapacity
of individual longings. It is probable Vermont has sent out,
*among us, two squatters, and otherwise lawless intruders on
our vacant lands, to one of any other of the adjoining States,
counting all in proportion to their whole numbers. I knew
that the county of Charlotte; as Washington was then called,
was peculiarly exposed to inroads of this nature; and did
not feel much surprise at this prospect of meeting with some
of the fruits of the seed that had been so profusely scattered
along the sides of the Green Mountains. Come what would,
however, I was determined to ascertain the facts, as soon
as possible, with the double purpose of satisfying both hunger and curiosity. As for the Indian, he was passive,
yielding to my decision altogether as a matter of course.
" Since you think there is a mill, out here, west of us,
Sureflint," I observed, after turning the matter over in my
mind, "I will go and search for it, if you will bear me
company. You think you can find it, I trust, knowing the
direction in which it stands?"'"Sartain  find him easy'nough.  Find stream first-.




THE CHAINBEARER.                    219
den find mill.  Got ear-got eye-no hard to find him.
Hear saw'fore great while."
I acquiesced, and made a sign for my companion to pro.
ceed. Susquesus was a man of action, and not of words;
and, in a minute, he was leading the way towards a spot
in the woods that looked as if it might contain the bed of
the stream that was known to exist somewhere near by,
since it was laid down on the map.
The sort of instinct possessed by the Trackless, enabled
him soon to find this little river.  It was full of water, and
had a gentle current; a fact that the Indian immediately
interpreted into a sign that the mill must be above us, since
the dam would have checked the course of the water, had
we been above that. Turning up stream, then, my companion moved on, with the same silent industry as he would
have trotted along the path that led to his own wigwam, had
he been near it.
We had not been on the banks of the stream five minutes,
before the Trackless came to a dead halt; like one who had
met an unexpected obstacle. I was soon at his side, curious
to know the motive of this delay.
"Soon see mill, now," Susquesus said, in answer to an
inquiry of mine. "Board plenty-come down stream fast
as want him."
Sure enough, boards were coming down, in the current
of the river, much faster than one who was interested in the
property would be apt to wish; unless, indeed, he felt certain of obtaining his share of the amount of sales. These
boards were neither in rafts, nor in cribs; but they came
singly, or two or three laid together, as if some arrangement had been made to arrest them below, before they
should reach any shoals, falls, or rapids. All this looked
surprisingly like a regular manufacture of lumber, with a
view to sales in the markets of the towns on the Hudson.
The little stream we were on, was a tributary of that noble
river, and,, once in the latter, there would be no very material physical obstacle to conveying the product of our hills
over the habitable globe.
"This really looks like trade, Sureflint," T said, as soon
as certain that my eyes did not deccive me.  " Where there
are boards made, men cannot be fir off. Lumber, cut to




220          T II E CIIAI N BEARER.
order, does not grow in the wilderness, though the material
of which it is made, may."
cMill make him.  Know'd mill, when hear him. Talk
plain'nough. Pale-face make mill, but red-man got ear to
hear wit'!"
This was all true enough; and it remained to ascertain
what was to come of it. I will acknowledge, that, when I
saw those tell-tale boards come floating down the winding,
little river, I felt a thrilling of the nerves, as if assured
the sight would be s'ucceeded by some occurrence of imr.
portance to myself.  I knew that these lawless lumbermen
bore a bad name in the land, and that they were generally
regarded.as a set of plunderers, who did not hesitate to
defend themselves and their habits, by such acts of violence
and fraud as they fancied their circumstances justified. It
is one. evil of crime, where it penetrates masses, that numbers are enabled to give it a gloss, and a seeming merit, that
unsettle principles; rendering the false true, in the eyes of
the ignorant, and generally placing evil before good. This is
one of the modes in which justice vindicates itself, under the
providence of God; the wrongs committed by communities
re-acting on themselves, in the shape of a demoralization
that soon brings its own merited punishment.
There was little time for speculation or conjecture, however; for, resuming our march, the next bend in the river
brought into view a reach of the stream in which half a
dozen men and lads were at work in the water, placing the
boards in piles of two or three, and setting them in the cur.
rent, at points favourable to their floating downwards.
Booms, connected with chains, kept the confused pile in a
sort of basin beneath some low cliffs, on the margin of which
stood the expected mill itself.  Here, then, was ocular proof
that squatters were systematically at work, plundering the
forests, of which I was in charge, of their most valuable
trees, and setting everything like law and right at defiance.
The circumstances called for great decision, united with the
utmost circumspection. I had gone so far, that pride would
not suffer me to retreat, had not a sense of duty to my father
and colonel Follock, come to increase the determination to
go on.
The reader may feel some desire to know how far Dus




TIIE CHAINBEARER.                   221
mingled with my thoughts, all this time. She was never
absolutelv out of them, though the repulse I had met in my
affections gave an impetus to my feelings that rendered me
more than usually disposed to enter on an adventure of
hazard and wildness. If I were. naughtto Ursula Malbone,
it mattered little what else became of me. This was the
sentiment that was uppermost, and I have thought, ever
since, that Susquesus had some insight into the condition of
my feelings, and understood the cause of the sort of desperation with which I was about to rush on danger. We
were, as yet, quite concealed, ourselves; and the Indian
profited by the circumstance, to hold a council, before we
trusted our persons in the hands of those who might feel it to
be their interest to malke away with us, in preference to
permitting us ever to see our friends again. In doing this,
however, Sureflint was in no degree influenced by concern
for himself, but solely by a desire to act as became an
experienced warrior, on a very difficult war-path.
" S'pose you know, " said Sureflint. "'Emr no good men
-Varmount squatter-you t'ink own led-dey tink own
land. Carry rifle and do as please. Best watch him."
" I believe I understand you," Susquesus, and I shall be
on my guard, accordingfy. fi'dc you ever see either of those
men before?"
" T'ink have. Must meet all sort of men, when he go
up and down in'e wood. Despret squatter, dat ole man'
out yonder. Call himself T'ousandacre —say he alway
own t'ousand acre when he have mind to find him."
"The gentleman must be well provided with estates! A.
thousand acres will make a very pretty homestead for a
wanderer, especially when he has the privilege of carrying
it about with him, in his travels. You mean the man with
grey hairs, I suppose-he who is half dressed in buckskin?"
"Sartain; dat ole T'ousandacre - nebber want landtake him where he find him. Born over by great salt lake,
he say, and been trarvel toward setting sun since a boy.
klway help himself-Hampshire Grant man, dat. But,
Major, why he no got right, well as you?"
"Because our laws give him no right, while it gives to
he owner in fee, a perfect right. It is one of the conditions
iof the society in which we live, that men shall respect each
19*




222          T I E CIIAINBEARER.
other's property, and this is not his property, but mine —or
rather, it is the property of my father and colonel Foliock."
"Best not say so, den.  No need tell ebbery t'ing. No
your land, say no your land. If he t'ink you spy, p'raps
he shoot you, eh? Pale-face shoot spy; red man t'ink spy
good feller!"
"Spies can be' shot only in time of war; but war or
peace, you do not think these men will push matters to ex.
tremities? They will be afraid of the law."
" Law!-What law to him?-Nebber see law-don't go
near law; don't know him."
", Well, I shall run the risk, for hunger is quite as active
just now as curiosity and interest.  There is no necessity,
however, for your exposing yourself, Sureflint; do you stay
behind, and wait for the result. If I am detained, you can
carry the news to Chainbearer, wito will know where to
seek me.  Stay you here, and let me go on alone-adieu."
Sureflint was not to be dropped in this manner. He said
nothing, but the moment I began to move, he stepped quietly
into his accustomed place, in advance, and led the way
towards the party of squatters. There were four of these
men at work in the river, in addition to two stout lads
and the old leader, who, as I afterwards ascertained, was
very generally known by the sobriquet of Thousandacres.
The last remained on dry land, doubtless imagining that his
years, and his long services in the cause of lawlessness and
social disorganization, entitled him to this small advantage.
The evil one has his.privileges, as well as the public.
The first intimation our hosts received of this unexpected
visit, came from the cracking of a dried stick on which I
had trodden. The Indian was not quicker to interpret and
observe that well-known sound, than the old squatter, who
turned his head like thought, and at once saw the Onondago
within a rod of the spot where he himself was standing. I
was close on the Indian's heels.  At first, neither surprise
nor uneasiness was apparent in the countenance of Thousandacres.  He knew the Trackless, as he called Susque.
sus, and, though this was the first visit of the Indian, at that
particular' location,' they had often met in a similar man.
ner before, and invariably with as little preliminary notice,
So far from an)y thing unpleasant appearing in the counte.




THE CHAINBEARER.                    223
nance of the squatter, therefore, Susquesus was greeted with
i smile, in which a certain leering expression of cunning
was blended with that of welcome.
" So it's only you, Trackless," exclaimed ThousandAcres, or, Thousandacres, as I shall, in future, spell the
name- " I didn't know but it might be a sheriff. Sitch
enrittur's do get out into the woods, sometimes, you know;
though they don't always get back ag'in. How come you
to find us out, in this cunning spot, Onondago!"'" Hear mill, in night.-Saw got loud tongue. Hungry;
so come get somet'ing to eat."
" Waal, you v'e done wisely, in that partic'lar, for we
never have been better off for vi't'als. Pigeons is as plenty
as land; and the law hasn't got to that pass, yet, as to
forbid a body from taking pigeons, even though it be in another man's stubble. I must keep that saw better greased,
nights; though, I s'p'ose, a'ter all,'t was the cut of the
teeth you heard, and not the rubbing of the plate?"
" Hear him all-saw got loud voice, tell you."
"Yes, there's natur' in that.  Come, we'll take this
path, up to the house, and see what Miss Thousandacres can
do for you.  Breakfast must be ready, by this time; and
you, and your fri'nd, behind you, there, is wilcome to what
we have, sitch as it is. Now, as we go along," continued
the squatter, leading the way up the path he had mentioned
— " now, as we go along, you can tell me the news, Trackless. This is a desp'rate quiet spot; and all the tidings we
get is.brought back by the b'ys, when they come up stream,
from floating boards down into the river.  A desp'rate sight
have -we got on hand, and I hope to hear that matters be
going on so well,'in Albany, that boards will bring suthin',
soon.  It's high time honest labour met.with its reward."
"Don't know-nebber sell board," answered the Indian" nebber buy him. Don't care for board. Powder cheap,
now'e war-path shut up.  Dat good, ~'pose you t'ink."
" Waal, Trackless, I kear more for boards than for pow.
der, I must own; though powder's useful, too. Yes, yes;
a useful thing is powder, in its way. Venison and bear's
meat are both healthy, cheap, food; and I have eaten catamount. Powder can be used in many ways. Who is your
fri'nd, Trackless?"




224         THE  CHAINBEARER.
"Ole young frien'-know his fader.  Live in wood now,
lRke us, this summer.  Shoot deer like hunter."
" He's wilcome-he's heartily wilcome! All's wilcome
to these parts, but the landlord.  You know me, Trackless
— you're well acquainted with old Thousandacres; and few
words is best, among fri'nds of long standing. But, tell me,
Onondago; have you seen anything of the Chainbearer, and
his party of lawless surveyors, in the woods, this summer?
The b'ys brought up an account of his being at work, some.
where near by, this season, and that he's at his old tricks,
ag'in!"
"Sartain, see him.  Ole frien', too, Chainbearer.  Live
wit' him, afore old French war-like to live with him, when
can. Good man, Chainbearer, tell you, Thousandacres.
What trick he do, eh?"
The Indian spoke a little sternly, for he loved Andries too
well, to heat him disrespectfully named, without feeling
some sort of resentment. These men, however, were too
much accustomed to plain dealing in their ordinary discourse, to take serious offence at trifles;'and the amicable
sunshine of the dialogue received no serious interruption
from this passing cloud.
" What trick does Chainbearer do, Trackless," answered
the squatter-" a mortal sight of tricks, with them plaguy
chains of his'n!' If there warn't no chains and chainbearers, there could be no surveyors; and, if there warn't no
surveyors, there could be no boundaries to farms but the
rifle; which is the best law-maker, and lawyer, too, that
man ever invented.  The Indians want no surveyors,
Trackless?"
"' S'pose he don't. It be bad to measure land, will own,"
answered the conscientious Susque~us, who would not deny
his own principles, even while he despised and condemned
the man who now asserted them.  "Nebber see anyt'ing
good in measurin' land."
"Ay, I know'd you was of the true Injin kidnev!" exclaimed Thousandacres, exultingly, "and that's it which
makes sich fri'nds of us squatters and you red-skins.  BuI
Chainbearer is at work hard by, is he, Trackless?"
"Sartain.  He measure General Littlepage farm out
Who your landlord, eh?"




THE CHAIN BEARER.                    2,5
"Waal, I do s'pose it's this same Littlepage, and a des.
p'rate rogue all agree in callin' him."
I started at hearing my honoured and honourable father
thus alluded to, and felt a strong disposition to resent the
injury; though a glance from the Indian's eye cautioned me
on the subject.  I was then young, and had yet to learn that
men were seldom wronged without being calumniated. I
now know that this practice of circulating false reports of
landlords, most especially in relation to their titles, is very
general, taking its rise in the hostile positions that adventurers are constantly assuming on their estates, in a country
as unsettled and migratory as our own, aided by the common
and vulgar passion of envy. Let a man travel through
New York, even at this day, and lend his ear to the language
of the discontented tavern-brawlers, and he would hardly'
believe there was such a thing as a good title to an estate of
any magnitude within its borders, or a bad one to the farm
of any qccupant in possession. There is among us a set of
declaimers, who come from a state of society in which little
distinction exists in either fortunes or social conditions, and
who are incapable of even seeing, much less of appreciating
the vast differences that are created by habits, opinions, and
education, but who reduce all moral discrepancies to dollars
and cents. These men invariably quarrel with all above
them, and, with them, to quarrel is to calumniate. Leaguing
with the disaffected, of whom there always must be some,
especially when men are compelled to pay their debts, one
of their first acts is to assail the title of the landlord, when
there happens to be one in their neighbourhood, by lying and
slandering. There seems to be no exception to the rule, the
practice being resorted to against the oldest as well as against
the most recently granted estates among us. The lie only
varies in particulars; it is equally used against the titles of
the old families of Van Rensselaer, Livingston, Beekman
Van Cortlandt, de Lancey, Schuyler, and others, as against
the hundred new names that have sprung up in what is
called the western counties, since the revolution.  It is the
ie of the Father of Lies, who varies it to suit circumstances
and believers. " A desp'rate rogue," all agree in calling the
man who owns land that they desire to possess themselves,




226           T H E CIIAINBEARER.
without being put to the unpleasant trouble of purchasing
and paying for it.
i so far commanded myself, however, as to make no retort
for the injustice done my upright, beloved, and noble-minded
father, but left his defence to the friendly feelings and sterling
honesty of Sureflint.' Not so," answered the Indian sternly. " Big lie-forked
tongue tell dat —know gen'ral-sarve wid hirn —know him.
(lood warrior-honest man —dat lie.  Tell him so to face."
"Waal-wa-n-l —I don't know," drawled out Mr. Thou.
sandacres: how those rascals will " wa-a-l" and "I don't
know," when they are cornered in one of their traducing
tales, andare met face to face, as the Indian now met the
squatter! "Wa-a-i, wa-a-I, I don't know, and only repeat
what I have heern say. But, here we be at the cabin,
Trackless; and I see by the smoke that old Prudence and
her gals has been actyve this morning, and we shall soon get
suthin' comfortable for the stomach."
Hereupon,.Mr. Thousandacres stopped at a convenient
place by the side of the stream, and commenced washing
his face and hands; an operation that was now performed
for the first time that day.
CHAPTER XVII.
" He stepped before the monarch's chair,
And stood with rustic plainness there,
And little reverence made;
Nor head, nor body, bowed nor bent,
But on the desk his arm he leant,
And words like these he said."
Marmion.
WHILE the squatter was thus occupied in arranging his
toilet, previously to taking his morning meal, I had a mo.
ment of leisure to look about in.  We had ascended to the
level of the mill, where was an open, half-cleared space, of
some sixty acres in extent, that was under a rude cultiva.




THIIE CHAINBEARER.                   227
tion.  Stubs and stumps abounded, and the fences were of
logs, showing that the occupancy was still of recent date.
In fact, as I afterwards ascertained, Thousandacres, with
his family of hopeful sons and daughters, numbering in all
more than twenty souls, had squatted at that spot just fouyears before. The mill-seat was admirable, nature having
done for it nearly all that was required, though the mill
itself was as unartificial and make-shift as such a construction very well could be. Agriculture evidently occupied
very little of the time of the family, which tilled just enough
land " to make a live on't," while everything in the shape
of lumber was " improved" to the utmost. A vast number
of noble pines had been felled, and boards and shingles were
to be seen in profusion on every side. A few of the first
were being sent to market, in order to meet the demands
of the moment, in the way of groceries; but, the intention
was to wait for the rise in the little stream, after the fallrains, in order to send the bulk of the property into the
common artery of the Hudson, and to reap the great reward
of the toil of the summer and spring.
I saw, also, that there must be additions to this family, in
the way of marriage, as they occupied no less than five
cabins, all of which were of logs, freshly erected, and had
an air of comfort and stability about them, that one would
not have expected to meet where the title was so flimsy.
All this, as I fancied, indicated a design not to remove very
soon.  It was probable that some of the oldest of the sons
and daughters were married, and that the. patriarch was
already beholding a new generation of squatters springing up
about him. A few of the young men were visible, lounging
about the different cabins, and the mill was sending forth
that peculiar, cutting, grating sound, that'had so distinctly
attracted the attention of Susquesus, even in the depths of
the forest.
"Walk in, Trackless," cried Thousandacres, in a hearty
free manner, which proved that what came easily went as
freely; "walk in, fri'nd; I don't know your name, but
that's no great matter, where there's enough for all, and a
wilcome in the bargain. Here's the old woman, ready and
willing to sarve you, and looking as smiling as a gal of
fifteen."




2~28          TTHE CHAINBEAR  R.
The last part of' this statement, however, was not pro
cisely accurate.  " Miss Thousandacres," as the squatter
sometimes magnificently called his consort, or the dam of
his young brood, was tar from receiving us with either
smiles or welcomes. A sharp-featured, keen, grey-eyed old
woman, her thoughts were chiefly bent on the cares of her
brood. and her charities extended little beyond them. She
had been the mother of fourteen children herself, twelve of
which survived.  All had been born amid the difficulties,
privations and solitudes of stolen abodes in the wilderness.
That woman had endured enough to break down the constitutions and to destroy the tempers of half a dozen of the
ordinary beings of her sex; yet she survived, the same enduring, hard-working, self-denying, suffiring creature she
liad been from the" day of her bloom and beauty.  These
two last words might be supposed to be used in mockery,
could one have seen old Prudence, sallow, attenuated, with
sunken cheeks, hollow, lack-lustre eyes, and broken-mouthed, as I now saw her; but there weyre the remains- of'great
beauty, notwithstanding, about the woman; and I afterwards
learned -that she had once been among the fairest of the
fair, in her native mnountains.  In all the intercourse I sub.
sequently had with- her family, the manner of this woman
was anxious, distrustful, watchfill, and bore a strong resemblance to that of the dam that is overseeing the welfare of
its cubs.  As to her welcome at the board, it was neither
hearty nor otherwise; it being so much a matter of course
for the American to share his meal with the stranger, that
little is said or thought of the boon.
Notwithstanding the size of the family of Thousandacres,
the cabin in which he dwelt was not crowded. The younger
children of the settlement, ranging between the ages of four
and twelve, appeared to be distributed among all the habitations indifferently, putting into the dishes wherever there
was an opening, much as pigs thrust themselves in at any
opening at a trough.  The business of eating commenced
simultaneously throughout the whole settlement, Prudence
having blown a blast upon a conch-shell, as the signal. I
was too. hungry to lose any time in discourse, and set to,
with the most hearty good will, upon the coarse fare, the
rrorrent there was an opportunity,  My example was imi




THE  CHAINBEAnER.                      225
lated by all around our own particular board, it being the
refined and intellectual only, who habitually converse at
their meals. The ani'mal had too great a preponderance
among the squatters, to leave them an exception to the
rule.
At length, the common hunger was appeased, and I could
see that those who sat around began to examine me with a
little more curiosity than they had previously manifested.
There was nothing in the fashion of my attire to excite
suspicion, perhaps, though I did feel some little concern on
account of'its quality.  In that day, the social classes were
broadly distinguished by dress, no man even affecting to
assume the wardrobe of a gentleman, without having cer.
tain pretensions to the character.  In the woods, however,
it was the custom to throw aside every thing like finery, and
I wore the hunting-shirt already mentioned, as my outer
garment.  The articles most likely to betray my station in
life were beneath this fortunate covering, and might escape
observation. Then our party was small, consisting, besides
the parents and the two guests, of only one young man, and
one young woman, of about the ages of two and twenty and
sixteen, whom the mother addressed as Zephaniah and
Lowiny, the latter being one of the very common American
corruptions of some fine name taken from a book-Lavinia,
quite likely.*  These two young persons deported them.
selves with great modesty at the table, old Thousandacres
and his wife, spite'of their lawless lives, having maintained
a good deal of the ancient puritan discipline among their
descendants, in relation to things of this nature.  indeed, I
* The coinmoner dialect of New England is as distinct from the
language of the rest of the republic, cases of' New England descent.Yeepticd, as t)oso of many of tMe E2g'JsJb coul2tces are from that of
London. One of the peculiarities of the former, is to pronounce the
final a of a word, like v; calling America, Amneriky; Utica, TTtiky;
Ithaca, Ithaky. Thus, Lavinia would be very apt to be pronounced
Lavinny, Lavyny, or Lowiny. As there is a marked ambition for
fine names, the effect of these corruptions on a practised ear is somewhat ludicrous.' The rest of the nation is quite free from the peculiarity. Foreigners often mistake New Englandisms for American.
isms; the energy, importance, and prominency of the people of the
former portion of the country, giving them an influence that is dis
proportioned to their numbers.
20




230           TH E CHAINBEARE.
was struck with the singular contrast between the habitual
attention that was paid by all in the settlement to certain
appearances of the sort, and that certainty which every one
must have possessed that they were living daily in the commission of offences opposed not only to the laws of the land,
but to the common, inherent convictions of right.  In this
particular, they exhibited what is often found in life, the
remains of ancient habits and principles, existing in the
shape of habits, long after the substance that had produced
them had disappeared.
" Have you asked these folks about Chainbettrer?" said
Prudence abrnptly, as soon as the knives and forks were
laid down, and while we still continued in our seats at the
table.  "I feel a consarn of mind, about that man, that I
never feel about any other."
-"Never fear Chainbearer, woman," answered the husband.  "He's got his summer's work afore him, without
coming near us. By the last accounts, this young Little.
page, that the old rogue of a father has sent into the country, has got him out in his own settlement; where he'li be
apt to keep him, I calcerlate, till cold weather sets in. Let
me once get off all the lumber we've cut, and sell it, and I
kear very little about Chainbearer, or his master."
s" This is bold talk, Aaron; but jist remember how often
we've squatted, and how often we've been driven to move.
I s'pose I'm talking afore fri'nds, in sayin' what I do."
"No fear of any here, wife.-Trackless is an old ac*quaintance, and has as little relish for law-titles, as any on
us; and his fri'nd is our fri'nd."  I confess, that I felt a
little uncomfortable, at this remark; but the squatter going
on with his conversation, there was no opportunity for saying
anything, had I been so disposed. —"As for moving," continued the husband, " I never mov'd, but twice, without
getting pay for my betterments. —Now, I call that a good
business, for a man who has squatted no less than seventeen
times.  If the worst comes to the worst, we're young
enough to make an eighteenth pitch.  So that I save the
lumber, I kear but' little for your Littlepages, or Greatpages;
the mill is no great matter, without the gear; and that has
travelled all the way from Varmount, as it is, and is used to
moving. It can go farther."




THE CHAINBEARER.                    221
"Yes, but the lumber, Aaron! The water's low, now,
mnd you can never get it to market, until the rivers rise,
which mayn't be these three months. Think how many
days' labour that lumber has cost you, and all on us, and
what a sight of it there would be to lose!"
" Yes, but we wunt lose it, woman," answered Thousand.
acres, compressing his lips, and clenching his hands, in a
way to show how intensely he felt on the subject of property,
himself,- however dishonestly acquired. " My sweat and
labour be in them bards; and it's as good as sap, any day.
What a man sweats for, he has a right to."
This was somewhat loose morality, it is true, sinee a man
might sweat in bearing away his neighbour's goods; but a
portion of the human race is a good deal disposed to' feel
and reason on principles but little more sound than this of
old Thousandacres.:' Wa-a-ll," answered the woman, "I'm sure I don't
want to see you and the b'ys lose the fruits of your labours;
not I. You've honestly toiled and wrought at'em logs, in
a way I never seed human beings outdo; and't would be
hard," looking particularly at me, " now that they've cut
the trees, hauled'em to mill, and sawed the boards, to see
another man step in and claim all the property.  That-could
never be right, but is ag'in all justice, whether Varmount
or York.  I s'pose there's no great harm in jist askin' what
your name may be, young man?"
"None in the world," I answered, with a self-command
that.I could see delighted the Onondago. "My name is
Mordaunt."
"Mordaunt!" repeated the woman, quickly.  "Don't we
know suthin' of that name?-Is that a fri'ndly name, to us
Varmounters? —How is it, Aaron? you' ought to know."
" No, I hadn't ought to, for I never heerd tell of any sich
name, afore. So long as'tis n's Littlepage, I kear nothin'
about it."
I felt relieved at this reply, for I will own, that the idea
of falling into the power of these lawless men was far from
pleasant to me. From  Thousandacres, down to the lad
nfseventeen, they all stood six feet in' their stockings; and
a stouter, more broad-shouldered, sinewy race, was not
often sern. The idea of resisting them  by force, was out




232           THE CHAINB E &RER.
of the question. I was entirely without arms; though the
Indian was better provided; but no less than four rifles
were laid on brackets in this one cabin; and I made no
doubt that every male of the family had his own particular
weapon. The rifle was the first necessary, of men of this
stamp, being as serviceable in procuring food, as in protect.
ing them from their enemies.
It was at this moment that Prudence drew a long sigh,,and rose from table in order to renew her domestic labours.
Lowiny followed her motions in submissive silence, and we
men sauntered to the door of the cabin, where I could get a
new view of the nature of those " betterments" that Thou.
sandacres so highly prized, and of the extent of the depredations that had been committed on colonel Follock and my
father. The last were by no means insignificant; and, at
a later day, they were estimated, by competent judges, to
amount to fully a thousand dollars in value. Of course
these were a thousand dollars totally lost, inasmuch as redress, in a pecuniary sense, was entirely out of the question
with men of the stamp of Thousandacres and his sons.
This class of persons are fond of saying, " I'11 guarantee,"
and " I'11 bind myself" to do this or that; but the guaranty
and obligation are equally without value.  In fact, those
who are the least responsible are usually the freest with
such pledges.
" This is a handsome spot," said Thousandacres, whose
real name was Aaron Timberman.  " This is a handsome
spot, Mr. Mordaunt, and one it would go kind o' hard to
give it tip at the- biddin' of a man who never laid eye on't.
Be you any way acquainted with law?"
" A very little; no more than we all get to be as we
move along through life."
" You've not travelled far on that journey, young man,
as any one can see by your face.  But you've had opportunities, as a body can tell by your speech, which isn't exactly like our'n, out here in the woods, from which I had
kind o' thought your schoolin' might be more than common.
A body can tell, though his own l'arnin' amounts to no great
matter."
This notion of Aaron's, that my modes of speech, pro.
nunciation, accent and utterance had come from the-schools.




THE CII A I N  EARER.               233
was natural enough, perhaps; though few persons ever acquire accuracy in either, except in the familiar intercourse
of their childhood.  As for the " common schools" of New
York, they are perpetuating errors in these respects, rather
than correcting them; and one of the largest steps in their
improvement would be to have a care that he who teaches,
teaches accurately as to sounds, as well as to significations
Under the present system, vicious habits are confirmed by
deliberate instruction and example, rather thag corrected.
"My schooling," I answered, modestly enough, I trust,
"has been a little better than common, though it has not
been good enough, as you see, to keep me out of the woods."
" All that may be inclination.  Some folks have a nat'ral
turn for the wilderness, and it's'workin' ag'in the grain,
and nearly useless, to try to make settlement-bodies of'em.
D'ye happen to know what lumber is likely to bring this
fall?"
" Everything is looking'up since the peace, and it is fair
to expect lumber will begin to command a price, as well as
other property."
"Wa-a-I, it's time it should! During the whull war a
board has been of little more account than a strip of bark,
unless it happened to be in the neighbourhood of an army.
We lumbermen have had an awful time on it these last eight
years, and more than'once I've felt tempted to gi'n in, and
go and settle down in some *clearin', like quieter folks; but
I thought, as the'arth is to come to an eend, the war must
sartainly come to an eend afore it."
"The calculation was a pretty safe one; the war must
have truly made a dull-time for you; nor do I see how you
well got along during the period it lasted,"
"Bad enough; though war-times has their wind-falls as
well as peace-times. Once, the inimy seized a sight of continental stores, sich as pork, and flour, and New England
rum, and they pressed all the teams, far and near, to carry
off their plunder, and my sleigh and horses had to go along
with the rest on'em. Waal, go we did; and I got as
handsome a load as ever you seed laid in a lumber-sleigh;
what I call an assortment, and one, too, that was mightily
to my own likin', seein' I loaded it.up with my own hands.'T was in a woody country, as you may s'pose, or I wouldn
20*




234           THE CHAINBEARER.
have been there; and, as I know'd all the by-roads, I watched
my chance, and got out of the line without bein' seen, and
druv' as straight up to my own hum' as if I'd just come
from tradin' in the nearest settlement. That was the most
profitablest journey I ever tuck, and, what is more, it was a
short one."
Here old Thousandacres stopped to laugh, which he did
in as hearty, frank a manner as if his conscience had never
known care. This story, I fancy, was a favourite with him,
for I heard no less than three other allusions to the exploit
on which it was based, during the short time our communication with each other lasted.  I observed the first smile I
had seen on the face of Zephaniah, appear at the recital of
this anecdote; though I had not failed to notice that the
young man, as fine a specimen of rustic, rude, manly pro.
portions as one could wish to see, had kept his eyes on me
at every occasion, in a manner that excited some uneasiness.
"That was a fortunate service for you," I remarked, as
soon as Aaron had had his laugh;" unless, indeed, you felt
the necessity of giving back the property to the continental
officers."
" Not a bit of it! Congress was poor enough, I'm willin'
to own, but it was richer than I was, or ever will be. When
property has changed hands once, title goes with it; and
some say that these very lands, toming from the king, ought
now to go to the people, jist as folks happen to want'em.
There's reason and right, I'm  sartain, in the idee, and I
shouldn't wonder if it hel'd good in law, one day!"
Alas! alas! for poor human nature again.  Seldom does
man commit a wrong but he sets his ingenuity to work to
frame excuses for it. When his mind thus gets to be perverted by the influence of his passions, and more especially
by that of rapacity, he never fails to fancy new principles
to exist to favour his schemes, and manifests a readiness in
inventing them, which, enlisted on the side of goodness,
might render him a blessing instead of a curse to his race.
But roguery is so active, while virtue is so apt to be passive,,hat in the eternal conflict that is waged between them, that
which is gained by the truth and inherent power of the last
is half the time, more than neutralized by the unwearied




THE C H AINBEARER.                   235
exertions of the first! This, I fear, may be found to con.
tain the weak spot of our institutions. So long as law re.
presents the authority of an individual, individual pride and
jealousy may stimulate it to constant watchfulness; whereas,
law representing the community, carries with it a divided
responsibility, that needs the excitement of intolerable abuses
ere it will arouse itself i'n its own vindication. The result
is merely another proof that, in the management of the
ordinary affairs of life, men are usually found to be stronger
than principles.
" Have you ever had occasion to try one of your titles of
possession in a court of law, against that of a landholder
who got his right from a grant?" I asked, after reflecting a
moment on the truth I have just narrated.
Thousandacres shook his head, looked down a moment,
and pondered a little, in his turn, ere he gave me the following answer:
" Sartain," he said. "We all like to be on the right
side, if we can; and some of our folks kind o' persuaded
me I might make out, once, ag'in a reg'lar landlord. So I
stood trial with him; but he beat me, Mr. Mordaunt, just
the same as if I had been a chicken, and he the hawk that
had me in his talons. You'll never catch me trusting my.self in the claws of the law ag'in, though that happened as
long ago as afore the old French war.  I shall never trust
to law any more. It may do for them that's rich, and
don't kear whether they win or lose; but law is a desp'rate
bad business for them that hasn't got money to go into it,
right eend foremost."
"And, should Mr. Littlepage discover your being here,
and feel disposed to come to some arrangement with you,
what conditions. would you be apt to accept?"
"Oh! I'm never ag'in trade.  Trade's the spirit of life;
and seein' that gin'ral Littlepage has some right, as I do
s'pose is the case, I shouldn't want to be hard on him. If
he would keep things quiet, and not make a fuss about it,
but would leave the matter out to men, and they men of the
right sort, I shouldn't be difficult; for I'm one of that kind
that hates law-suits, and am always ready to do the right
thing; and so he'd find me as ready to settle as any man
he ever had on his lands."




236           THE  C HAINBEARER.
" BUt on what terms?   You have. no  told me the
terms."
"As to tarms, I'd not be hard, by any means. No man'
can say old Thousandacres ever druv' hard tarms, when
he had the best on't. That's not in my natur', which runs
altogether towards reason and what's right. Now you see,
Mordaunt,. how matters stand atween this Littlepage and
myself. He's got a paper title, they tell me, and I've got
possession, which is always a squatter's claim; and a good
one'tis, where there's plenty of pine and a mill-seat, with a
handy market!"
Here Thousandacres stopped to laugh again, for he
generally indulged in this way, in so hearty and deep a
tone, as to render it difficult to laugh and talk in the same
breath. As soon as through, however, he did not forget to
pursue the discourse.
"No, no man that understands the woods'will gainsay
them advantages," added the squatter; " and of all on'em
am I now in the enj'yment. Wa-a-l, gin'ral Littlepage, as
they call him about here, has a paper title; and I've got
possession.  He has the courts on his side, I'11 allow; but
here are my betterments-sixty-three as large acres chopped
over and hauled to mill, as can be found in all Charlotte,
or Washington,as they tell me the county is now called."
"But general Littlepage may not lancy it an improvement to have his land stripped of its pine. You know
Thousandacres, as well as I do, that pine is usually thought
to greatly add to the value of land hereabouts, the Hudson
making it so easy to get it to market."
"Lord! youngster, do you think I hadn't all that in my
mind, when I made my pitch here?  You can't teach old
bones where it's best to strike the first blow with an axe.
Now, I've got in the creek," (this word is used, in the parlance of the State, for a small river, nine times in ten),
" now, I've got in the creek, on. the way to the Hudson, in
the booms below the mill, and in the mill-yard yonder, a
hundred and twenty thousand feet of as handsome stuff as
ever was cribbed, or rafted; and there's logs enough cut
and hauled to make more than as much more. I some sort
o' think you know this Littlepage, by your talk; and, as I
like fair dealin's, and what's right atween man and man,




THE  CHAINB IE A IL ER.              237
I'll just tell you what I'11 do, so that you can tell him, if
you ever meet, and the matter should come up atween you,
as sich things sometimes do, all in talk like, though a body
has no real consarn in the affair; and so you can tell this
gin'ral that old Thousandacres is a reasonable man, and""
willing to settle on these tarms; but he won't gi'n a grain
more. If the gin'ral will let me get all the lumber to market peaceably, and take off the crops the b'ys have put in
with their own hands, and carry off all the mill-gear, and
take down the doors and windows of the houses, and-all the
iron-work a body can find about, I'm willing to agree to
quit'arly enough in the spring to let any man he chooses
come into possession in good season to get in spring grain,
and make garden. There; them's my tarms, and I'11 not
abate on one on'em, on no account at all. But that much
I'11 do for peace; for I do love peace and quiet, my woman
says, most desp'ately."
I was about to answer this characteristic communication
-perfectly characteristic as to feelings, one-sided sense of
right, principles and language-when Zephaniah, the tall
son of the squatter, suddenly laid a hand on his father's
arm, and led' him aside.  This young man had been ex.
amining my person, during the whole of the dialogue at the
door of the cabin, in, a way that was a little marked. I
was disposed at first to attribute these attentions to the
curiosity natural to youth, at its first meeting with one who
might be supposed to enjoy opportunities of ascertaining the
newest modes of dress and deportment. Rustics, in America, ever manifest this feeling, and it was not unreasonable
to suppose that this young squatter might have felt its influence.  But, as it soon appeared, I had altogether mistaken my man. Although both he and his sister, Lowiny,
had never turned their eyes from my person, I soon discovered that they had been governed by totally opposing
feelings.
The first intimation I got of the nature of the mistake
into which I had fallen, was from the manner of Thousandacres, as soon as his son had spoken to him, apart, for a
single minute.  I observed that the old squatter turned suddenly, and bRegan to scrutinize my appearance with a scowling, but sharp eye. - Then'he would give all his attention




238           THE CIIAINBE A RER.
to his son; after which, I came in for a new turn of ex.
amination.  Of course, such a scene could not last a great
while, and I soon felt the relief of being, again, face to face
with the mnan whom I now set down for an enerfiy.
"Harkee, young man," resumed Thousanrdacres, as soon
as he had returned and placed himself directly before me,
" my b'y, Zeph, there, has got a suspicion consarning you,
that must be cleared up, fairly a-tween us, afore we part.
I like fair dealin's, as i've told you more than once, already,
and despise underhandedness from the bottom of my heart.
Zeph tells me that he has a kind o' suspicion that you're
the son of this very Littlepage, and have been sent among
us to spy us out, and to l'arn how things stood, afore you let
on your evil intentions.  Is it so, or not?"
"What reason has Zeph for such a suspicion?" I answered, with as much coolness as I could assume.  "He is
a perfect stranger to me, and I fancy this is the first time
we have ever met."
" He agrees to that, himself; but mankind can sometimes
see things that isn't put directly afore their eyes. My son
goes and comes, frequently, between the Ravensnest settle.
ment hnd our own, though I don't suppose he lets on any
great deal about his proper hum' —He has worked as much
as two months, at a time, in that part of the country, and I
find him useful in carrying on a little trade, once and awhile,
with'squire Newcome."' You are acquainted, then, with Mr. Jason Newcome, or'squire Newcome, as you call him?"
".1 call him what's right, I hope!" answered the old man
sharply. " He is a'Squire, and should be called a'Squire.
Give the devil his due; that's my principle.  But Zepha.
niah has been out a considerable spell this summer to work
at Ravensnest.  I tell him he has a gal in his eye, by his
hankering so much after the'Nest folks, but he won't own
it: but out he has been, and he tells me this Littlepage's
son was expected to come into the settlement about the time
he last left there."
"And you are acquainted with'Squire Newcome?" I said,
pursuing the subject as its points presented themhselves to my
own mind, rather than following the thread of the squatter's




THE  CHAINBEARER.                   239
discursive manner of thinking; "so well acquainted as to
trade with him?"
"Sartain; well acquainted I may say. The'Squire tuck
(took) all the lumber I cut'arly in the spring, rafting and
selling it on his own account, paying us in groceries, womans'
cloth, and rum.  He made a good job of it, I hear tell, and
is hankerin' round a'ter what is now in the creek; but I
rather think I'11 send the b'ys off with that. But what's
that to the purpose? Didn't you tell me, young man, that
your name is Mordaunt?"
" I did; and.in so saying I told no more than the truth."
"And what may you call your given name?  A'ter all,
old woman," turning to the anxious wife and mother, who
had drawn near to listen, having most probably been made
acquainted with the nature of her son's suspicions —" a'ter
all the b'y may be mistaken, and this young man'as innocent as any one of your own flesh and blood."
" Mordaunt is what.you call my' given name,' I answered,
disdaining deception, " and Littlepage-" The hand of the
Indian was suddenly placed on my mouth, stopping further
utterance.
It was too late, however, for the friendly design of the
Onondago, the squatters readily comprehending all I had
intended to say. As'for Prudence, she walked away; and
I soon heard her calling all her younger children by name,
to collect them near her person, as the' hen gathers its
chickens beneath the wing. Thousandacres took the matter
very differently. His countenance grew dark, and he whis.
nered a word to Lowiny, who departed on some. errand
with reluctant steps, as I thought, and eyes that did not
always look in the direction she was walking.
"I see how it is!-I see how it is!" exclaimed the squatter,
with as much of suppressed indignation in his voice and
mien as if his cause were that of offended innocence; " we've
got a spy among us, and war-time's too fresh not to let us
know how to deal with sich folks. Young man, what's your
arr'n'd down here, in my betterments, and beneath my ruff?"
"My errand as you call it, Thousandacres, is to look
after the property that is entrusted to my care. I am the
son of General Littlepage, one of the owners of this spot,
and the attorney of both."




240'E  C 11  I N  EARR.
"Oh! an attorney be you!" cried the squatter, mistaking
the attorney in fact fbr an attorney at law-a sort of being
for whom he necessarily entertained a professional antipathy.
"I'lI attorney ye!  If you or your gin'ral fMther thinks
-that Aaron. Thousandacres is a inan to have his territories
invaded by the inimy, and keep his hands in his pockets the
whull time, he's mistaken.  Send'em along, Lawinry, send
along the b'ys, and let's see if we can't find lodgin's for
this young attorney gin'ral, as well as board."
There was no mistaking the aspect of things now. Hos.
tilities had commenced in a certain sense, and it became
incumbent on me for the sake of safety to be on the alert.
I knew that the Indian was armed; and, determined to defend
my person if possible, I was resolved to avail myself of the
use of his weapon should it become necessary.  Stretching
out an arm, and turning to tle spot where Susquesus had
just stood, to lay hold of his rifle, I discovered that he had
disappeared.
CHAPTER XVIII.
" The lawless herd, with fury blind,
Haye done him cruel wrong;
The flowers are gone, but still we find,
The honey on his tongue."
COWPER.')THERE I stood, alone and unarmed, in the centre of six
athletic men, for Lowiny had been sent to assemble her
brothers; a business in which she was aided by Prudence's
blowing a peculiar sort of blast on her conch; and, as unable to resist, as a child would have been in the hands of its
parent. As a fruitless scuffle would have been degrading,
as well as useless, I at once determined to submit, tempo.
rarily at least, or so long as submission did not infer disgrace, and was better than resistance. There did not seem
to be any immediate disposition to lay violent hands on me,
however, and there I stood, a minute or two, after I had
missed Sureflint, surrounded by the whole brood of the




TIlE CHAINBEARER.                   241
squatter, young and old, male and female; some looking
defiance, others troubled, and all anxious. As for myself,
I will frankly own my sensations were far from pleasant;
for I knew I was in the hands of the Philistines, in the
depths of a forest, fully twenty miles from any settlement,
and with no friends nearer than the party of the!thainbearer, who was at least two leagues distant, and altogether
ignorant of my position as well as of my necessities. A
ray of hope, however, gleamed in upon me through the probable agency of the Onondago.
Not for an instant did I imagine that long-known and welltried friend of my father and the.Chainbearer false. His
character was too well established for that; and it soon
occurred to me, that, foreseeing his own probable detention
should he remain-, he had vanished with a design to let the
strait in which I was placed be known, and to lead a party
to my rescue. A similar idea probably struck Thousandacres almost at the same instant; for, glancing his eye
around him, he suddenly demanded" What has become of the red-skin? The varmint has
dodged away, as I'm  an honest man! Nathaniel, Moses,
and Daniel, to your rifles and on the trail. Bring the fellow
in, if you can, with a whull skin; but if you can't, an Injin
more oliless will never be heeded in the woods."
I soon had occasion to note that the patriarchal government of Thousandacres was of a somewhat decided and
prompt character. A few words went a great ways in it,
as was now apparent; for in less than two minutes after
Aaron had issued his decree, those namesakes of the prophets and lawgivers of old, Nathaniel, and Moses, and
Daniel, were quitting the clearing on diverging lines, each
carrying a formidable, long, American hunting-rifle in his
hand. This weapon, so different in the degree of its power
from the short military piece that has become known to
modern warfare, was certainly in dangerous hands; for
each of those young men had been familiar with his rifle
from boyhood; gunpowder and liquor, with a little lead,
composing nearly all the qrticles on which they lavished
money for their amusement.  I trembled for Susquesus;
though I knew he must anticipate a pursuit, and was so
well skilled in throwing off a chase as to have obtained the
21




242           T II   C      I N B E AR G R.
name of' the Trackless. Still, the odds were against hin;
and experience has shown that the white man usually sur.
passes the Indian even in his own peculiar practices, when
there have been opportunities to be taught. I could do no
more, however, than utter a mental prayer for the escape
of my friend.
" Bring that chap in here," added old Thousandacres
sternly, the moment he saw that his three sons were off;
enough remaining to enforce that or any other order he
might choose to issue.  "Bring him into this room, and let
us hold a court on him, sin' he is sich a lover of the law.
If law he likes, law let him have. An attorney is he? I
warnt to know! What has an attorney to do with me and
mine, out here in the woods?"
While this was in the course of being said, the squatter,
and father of squatters, led the way into his own cabin,
where he seated himself with an air of authority, causing
the females and younger males of his brood to range themrnselves in a circle behind his chair. Seeing the folly of resistance, at a hint from Zephaniah I followed, the three
young men occupying the place near the door, as a species
of guard. In this manner we formed a sort of court, in
which the old fellow figured as the investigating magistrate,
-and I figured as the criminal.
" An attorney, be you!" muttered Thousandacres, whose
ire against me in my supposed, would seem to be more ex.
cited than it was against me in my real character.  "B'ys,
silence in the court; we'11 give this chap as much law as
he can stagger under, sin' he's of a law natur'. Everything
shall be done accordin'. to rule. Tobit," addressing his oldest
son, a colossal figure of about six-and-twenty, " you've been
in the law more than any on us, and can give us the word.
Whiat was't they did with you, first, when they had you up
in Hampshire colony; the time when you and that other
young man went across from the Varmount settlements to
look for sheep? A raft of the crittur's you did get atween
you, though you was waylaid and robbed of all your hard
arnin's, afore you got back ag'in in the mountains.  They
dealt with you accordin' to law,'twas said; now, what was
the first thing done?"
" I was tuck [taken] afore the'squire," answered Tobit




THE  CHAIN BEARER.                     243
Thousandacres, as. he was often called, "who heerd the
case, asked me what I had to say for myself, and then permitted me, as it was tarmed; so I went to gaol until the
trial came on, and I s'pose you know what come next, as
well as I do."
I took it ibr granted that what "come next" was any.
thing but pleasant in remembrance; the reason Tobit did
not relish it even in description, inasmuch as sheep-stealers
were very apt to get " forty save one" at the whipping-post,
in that day, a species of punishment that was admirably
adapted to the particular offence. We are getting among
us a setof soi-disant philanthropists, who, in their great desire to coddle and reform  rogues, are fast placing the pun.
nishment of offences on the honest portion of the community,
for the especial benefit of their eleves.  Some of these per.
sons have already succeeded in cutting down alltt-out whipping-posts, thereby destroying the chapest:-anfft-  mode
of punishing a particular class of crimes that was ever invented or practised. A generation hence, our children will
feel the consequences of this mistaken philanthropy. In
that day, let those who own fowl-houses, pig-pens, orchards,
smoke-houses, and other similar temptations to small depre-:ations, look to it, for I am greatly mistaken if the insecurity of their moveables does not give the most unanswerable
of all commentaries on this capital misstep. One whippingpost, discreetly used, will do more towards reforming'a
neighbourhood than a hundred gaols, with their twenty and
thirty days' imprisonments!* I have as much disposition
to care for the reformation of criminals as is healthful, if I
know myself; but the great object of all the punishments of
society, viz., its own security, ought never to be sacrificed
to this, which is but a secondary consideration.  Render
character, person and property as secure as possible, in the
* Mr. Mordaunt Littlepage writes here with prophetic accuracy.
Small depredations of this nature have got to be so very common,
that few now think of resorting to the law for redress. Instead of
furnishing the prompt and useful punishment that was administered
by our fathers, the law is as much adorned with its cavillings and
delays in the minor as in the more important cases; and it oft,n takes
jears to bring a small depredator even to trial, if he can find monoy
to fee a sagacious lawyer.-EDIToR.




244           THE  CH AIN DEA HER.
first place. after which, try as many experiments in philan.
thropy as you please.
I am sorry to see how far the disposition to economise rs
extending itself, in the administration of American justice,
generally. Under a government like that of this country,
it is worse than idle, for it is perfectly futile*to attempt to
gratify the imagination by a display of its power, through
the agency of pomp and representation.  Such things,
doubtless, have their uses, and are not tp be senselessly
condemned until one has had an opportunity of taking near
views of their effects; though useful, or the reverse, they
can never succeed here. But these communities of ours
have it in their power to furnish to the world a far more
illustrious example of human prescience, and benevolent
care, by its prompt, exact, and well-considered administration of justice-including the cases in both the civil and the
criminal courts. With what pride might not the American
retort, when derided for the simplicity of his executive, and
the smallness of the national expenditure in matters of mere
representation, could he only say-" True, we waste nothing on mere parade; but, turn to the courts, and to the
justice of the country; which, after all, are the great aim
of every good government. Look at the liberality of our
expenditures,'for the command of the highest talent, in the
first place; see, with what generous care we furnish judges
in abundance, to prevent them from being overworked, and
to avoid ruinous delays to suitors; then, turn to the criminal
courts, and into, first, the entire justice of the laws; next,
the care had in the selection of jurors; the thorough impartiality of all the proceedings; and, finally, when the right
lemands it, the prompt, unerring, and almost terrific majesty
of punishment." But, to return to something that is a good
Heal more like truth:" Yes, yes," rejoined Thousandacres, 1" there is no use
in riling the feelin's, by talking of that" —(meaning Tobit's
sufferings, not at the stake, but at the post;)-" a hint's as
good as a description.  You was taken afore a magistrate,
was you;-and he permitted you to prison-but, he asked
what you had to say for yourself, first? That was only
fair, and I mean to act it all out here, accordin' to law,




THE  CHIAINBEARER,                   245
Come, young attorney, what have you got to say for your.
self?"
It struck me that, alone as I was, in the hands of men
who were a species of outlaws, it might be well to clear
myself from every imputation that, at least, was not
merited.
"In the first place," I answered, " I will explain a mis.
take into which you have fallen, Thousandacres; for, le
us live as friends or foes, it is always best to understand
facts. I am not an attorney, in the sense you imagine-I
am not a lawyer."
I could see that the whole brood of squatters, Prudence
included, was a good deal mollified by this declaration. As
for Lowiny, her handsome, ruddy face actually expressed
exultation and delight! I thought I heard that girl half suppress some such exclamation as —" I know'd he wasn't n6
lawyer!" As for Tobit, the scowling look, replete with
cat-o'-nine-tails, actually departed, temporarily at least. In
short, this announcement produced a manifest change for
the better.
"No lawyer, a'ter tall!" exclaimed Thousandacres —
"' Didn't you say you was an attorney?"
" That much is true. I told you that I was the son of
general Littlepage, and that I was his attorney, and that of
colonel Follock, the other tenant in common of this estate;
meaning that I held their power of attorney to convey
lands, and to transact certain other business, in their
names."
This caused me to lose almost as much ground as I had
just gained, though, being the literal truth, I was resolved
neither to conceal, nor to attempt to evade it.
" Good land!" murmured Lowiny.  "Why couldn't the
man say nothin' about all that!"
A reproving look from Prudence, rebuked the girl, and
she remained silent afterwards,. for some time.
"A  power of attornies, is it!" rejoined the squatter.
"Wa-a-l, that's not much better than being a downright
hawyer. It's having the power of an attorney, I s'pose,
and without their accursed power it's little I should kear
for any of the breed. Then you're the son of that Gin'ral
Littlepage, which is next thing to being the man himself.  I
21*




246           T IE CtAIN B EARER.
should expect if Tobit, my oldest b'y, was to fall into the
hands of some that might be named, it would go hard with
him, all the same as if t'was myself. I know that some
make a difference atween parents and children, but other
some doosen't.  What's that you said about this gin'ral's
only being a common tenant of this land? How dares he
to call himself its owner, if he's only a common tenant-?"
The reader -is not to be surprised at Thousandacres'
trifling blunders of this sort; for, those whose rule of right
is present interest, frequently, in the eagerness of rapacity,
fall into this very kind of error; holding that cheap at one
moment, which they affect to deem sacred at the next. I
dare say, if the old squatter had held a lease of the spot he
occupied, he would at once have viewed the character and
rights of a'common tenant,' as connected with two of the
most important interests of the country.  It happened, now,
however, that it was " his bull that was goring our ox."
"How dares he to call himself the owner of the sile,
when he's only a common tenant, I say?" repeated Thousandacres, with increasing energy, when he found I did not
answer immediately.
"You have misunderstood my meaning. I did not say
that my father was only a'common tenant' of this property, but that he and colonel Follock own it absolutely in
common, each having his right in every acre, and not one
owning one half while the other owns the other; which is
what the law terms being'tenants in common,' though
strictly owners in fee."
"I shouldn't wonder, Tobit, if he turns out to be an
attorney, in our meaning, a'ter all!"
" It looks desp'rately like it, father," answered the eldest
born, who might have been well termed the heir at law of
all his progenitor's squatting and fierce propensities.  "If
he isn't a downright lawyer, he looks more like one than
any man I ever seed out of court, in my whull life."
" He'll find his match! Law and I have been at loggerheads ever sin' the day I first went into Varmount, or them
plaguy Hampshire Grants. When law gets me in its
clutches, it's no wonder if it gets the best on't; but, when
I get law in mine, or one of its sarvants, it shall be my fault
If law doosen't come out second best. Wa-a-l, we've heerd




THE C IAINB EARER.                  247
the young man's story, Tobit. I've asked him what he
had to say for himself, and he has g'in us his tell-tell'd us
how he's his own father's son, and that the gin'rai is some
sort of a big tenant, instead of being a landlord, and isn't
much better than we are ourselves; and it's high time I
permitted him to custody.  You had writin's for what.they
did to you, I dares to say, Tobit?"
"Sartain. The magistrate give the sheriff's deputy a
permittimus, and, on the strength of that, they permitted
me to gaol."
"Ye-e-es-I know all about their niceties and appearances! I have had dealin's afore many a magistrate, in
my day, and have onsuited many a chap that thought to
get the best on't afore we begun! Onsuiting the man that
brings the suit, is the cleanest way of getting out of the
law, as I knows on; but it takes a desp'rate long head
sometimes to do it! Afore I permit this young man, I'11
show writin's, too. Prudence, just onlock the drawer-"
"I wish to correct one mistake before you proceed further," interrupted I.'.' For the second time, I tell you I am
no lawyer, in any sense of the word. I am a soldier-have
commanded a company in General Littlepage's own regi.
ment, and served with the army when only a boy in years.
I saw both Burgoyne and Cornwallis surrender, and their
troops lay down their arms."
" Good now! Who'd ha' thought it!" exclaimed the compassionate Lowiny. "And he so young, that you'd hardly
think the wind had ever blown on him!"
My announcement of this new character was not without
a marked effect. Fighting'was a thing to the whole family's
taste, and what they could appreciate better, perhaps, than
any other act or deed. There was something warlike in
Thousandacres' very countenance and air, and I was not
mistaken in supposing he might feel some little sympathy
for a soldier.  He eyed me keenly; and, whether or not he
discovered signs of the truth of my assertion in my mien,
I saw that he once more relented in purpose.
c"You out ag'in Burg'yne!" the old fellow exclaimed.
"Can I believe what you say?   Why, I was out ag'in
1urg'yne myself, with Tobit, and Moses, and Nathaniel,
and.edidiah-with every male crittur' of the family, in




248           TH iiE CHA IN  EARER.
short, that was big enough to load and fire.  I count them
days as amnong my very best, though they did come late,
and a'ter old age had made some head ag'in me. How can
you prove you was out ag'in Burg'yne and Cornwallis?"
I knew that there was often a strange medley of soi-disant
patriotic feeling mixed up with the most confirmed knavery
in ordinary matters, and saw I had touched a chord that
might thrill on the sympathies of even these rude and
supremely selfish beings.  The patriotism of such men,
indeed. is nothing but an enlargement of selfishness, since
they prize things because they belong to themselves, or
they, in one sense, belong to the things. They take sides
with themselves, but never with principles. That patriotism
alone is pure, which would keep the country in the paths
of truth, honour and justice; and no man is empowered, in
his zeal for his particular nation, any more than in his zeal
for himself, to forget the law of right.
"I cannot prove I was out against Burgoyne, standing
here where I am, certainly," I answered; "but give me an
opportunity, and I will show it to your entire satisfaction."
" Which rijiment was on the right, Hazen's or Brookes's,
in storming the Jarmans?  Tell me that, and I will soon
let you know whether I believe you or not."
"I cannot tell you that fact, for I was with my own bat.
talion, and the smoke would not permit such a thing to be
seen. I do not know that either of the corps you mention
was in that particular part of the field that day, though I
believe both to have been warmly engaged."
" He warnt there," drawled out Tobit, in his most dis,
satisfied manner, almost showing his teeth, like a dog, under
Jhe impulse of the hatred he felt.
" He was there!" cried Lowiny, positively; " I know he
was there!"
A slap from Prudence taught the girl the merit of silence;
but the men were too much interested to heed an interrup.
tion as' characteristic and as bootless as this.
"I see how it is," added Thousandacres; " I must permit
the chap a'ter all.  Seein', however, that there is a chance
of his having been out ag'in Burg'yne, I'll permit him
witho'lt writin's, anI he shan't be bound.  Tobit, take your
Drisoner away, and shut him up in the store-'us'. When




THE CHAINBEARER.                     249
your brothers get back from their hunt a'ter the Injin) we'11
detarmine among us what is to be done with him."
Thousandacres delivered his orders with dignity, and
they were obeyed to the letter.  I made no resistance, since
it would only have led to a scuffle, in which I should have
sustained. the indignity of defeat, to say nothing of personal
injuries.'l'obit, however, did not offer personal violence,
contenting himself with making a sign for me to follow him,
which I' did, followed in turn by his two double-jointed brothers. I will acknowledge that, as we proceeded towards
my prison, the thought of' flight crossed my mind; and I
might have attempted it, but for the perfect certainty that,
with so many on my heels, I must have been overtaken,
when severe punishment would probably have been my lot.
On the whole, I thought it best to submit for a time, and
trust the future to Providence.  As to remonstrance or deprecation, pride forbade my having recourse to either. I
was not yet reduced so low as to solicit favours from a
squatter.
The gaol to which I was " permitted" by Thousandacres
was a store-house, or, as he pronounced the word, a " store.'us," of logs, which had been made of sufficient strength to
resist depredations, let them come from whom they might 
and they were quite as likely to come from some within as
from any without.  In consequence of its destination, the
building was not ill-suited to become a gaol. The logs, of
course, gave a sufficient security against the attempts of a
prisoner without tools or implements of any sort, the roof
being made of the same materials as the sides. There was
i1o window, abundance of air and light entering through the
fissures of the rough logs, which had open intervals between
them; and the only artificial aperture was the door. This
last was made of stout planks, and was well secured by
heavy hinges, and strong bolts and locks. The building
was of some size, too-tweenty feet in length, at least-one
end of it, though then quite empty, having been intended
und used as a crib for the grain that we Americans call, par
excellence, corn. Into this building I entered, after having
the large'knife that most woodsmen carrj taken from my
pocket; and a search was made on my person for any similar implement that might aid me in an attempt to escape.




250           THE CHAINBEARER.
in that day America had no paper money, from the bay
pf Hudson to Cape Horn.  Gold and silver formed the curtency, and my pockets had a liberal supply of both, in the
shape of joes and half joes, dollars, halves, and quarters.
Not a piece of coin, of any sort, was molested, however,
these squatters not being robbers, in the ordinary signification of the term, but merely deluded citizens, who appropri.
ated the property of others to their oWn use, agreeably to
certain great principles of morals that had grown u-p under
their own peculiar relations to the rest of mankind, their
immediate necessities and their convenience. I make no
doubt that every member of the family of Thousandacres
would spurn the idea of his or her's being a vulgar thief,
drawing some such distinctions in the premises as the Drakes,
Morgans, Woodes Rogers' and others of that school, drew
between themselves and the vulgar every-day sea-robbers
of the seventeenth century, though with far less reason.
But robbers these squatters were not, except in one mode,
and that mode they almost raised to the dignity of respectable hostilities, by the scale on which they transacted busi.
ness.
I was no sooner " locked up" than I began a survey of
my prison and the surrounding objects. There was no difficulty in doing either, the openings between the logs allowi'g of a clear reconnoissance on every side.  With a view
to keeping its contents in open sight, I fancy, the " store-'us"
was placed in the very centre of the settlement, having the
mills, cabins, barns, sheds and other houses, encircling it
in a sort of hamlet.  This circumstance, which would ren.
der escape doubly difficult, was, notwithstanding, greatly in
favour of reconnoitring.  I will now describe the results of
my observations. As a matter of course, my appearance,
the announcement of iny character, and my subsequent art
rest, were circumstances likely to produce a sensation in
the family of the squatter. All the women had gathered
around Prudence, near the door of her cabin, and the
younger girls were attracted to that spot, as the particles of
matter are known to obey the laws of affinity. The males,
one boy of eight or ten years excepted, were collected near
he mill, where Thousandacres, apparently, was holding a
consultation with Tobit and the rest of th6 brotherhood




TI-E CHAIN B*E4R.           251
among whom, I fancy, was no one entitled to be termed ar
angel. Everybody seemed to be intently listening to the
different speakers, the females often turning their eyes to.
wards their male protectors, anxiously and with long pro.
tracted gazes. Indeed, many of them looked in that direction, even while they gave ear to the wisdom of Prudence
he rself.
The excepted boy had laid himself, in a lounging, American sort of an attitude, on a saw-log, near my prison, and
in a position that enabled him to see both sides of it, without
changing his ground. By the manner in which his eyes
were fastened on the " store-'us'k I was soon satisfied that he
was acting in the character of a sentinel. Thus, my gaol
vas certainly sufficiently secure, as the force of no man,
unaided and without implements, could have broken a pass
age through the logs.
Having thus taken a look at the general aspect of things,
1 had leisure to reflect on my situation, and the probable
consequences of my arrest. For my life I had no great apprehensions, not as much as I ought to have had, under the
circumstances; but, it did not strike me that I was in any
great danger on that score. The American character, in
general, is not blood-thirsty, and that of New England less
so, perhaps, than that of the rest of the country.  Nevertheless, in a case of property, the tenacity of the men of
that quarter of the country was proverbial, and I came to
the conclusion that I should be detained, if possible, until
all the lumber could be got to market and disposed of, as
the only means of reaping the fruit of past labour.  The
possibility depended on the escape or the arrest of Sureflint.
Should that Indian be taken, Thousandacres and his family
would be as secure as ever in their wilderness; but, on the
other hand, should he escape, I might expect to hear from
my friends in the course of the day.  By resorting to a requisition on'squire Newcome, who was a magistrate, my
tenants might be expected to make an effort in my behalf.
when the only grounds of apprehension would be the consequences of the struggle.  The squatters were sometimes
dangerous under excitement, and when sustaining each
other, with arms in their hands, in what they fancy to be
their hard-earped privileges. There is no end to the delu.




252          THE C1 AINBEARER.
sions of men on such subjects, self-interest seeming corn.
pletely to blind their sense of right; and I have often met
with cases in which parties who were trespassers, and in a
mrral view, robbers, ab origine, have got really to fancy
fhaL their subsequent labours (every new blow of the axe
being an additional wrong) gave a sort of sanctity to possessions, in the defence of which they were willing to die. It
is scarcely necessary to say that such persons look only at
themselves, entirely disregarding the rights of others; but,
one wonders where the fruits of all the religious instruction
of the country are to be found, when opinions so loose and
acts so flagrant are constantly occurring among us. The
fact is, land is so abundant, and such vast bodies lie neglected and seemingly forgotten by their owners, that- the
needy are apt to think indifference authorizes invasions on
such unoccupied property; and their own labour once ap.
plied, they are quick to imagine that it gives them a moral
and legal interest in the soil; though, in the eye of the law
and of unbiassed reason, each new step taken in what is
called the improvement of a " betterment" is but a farthe
advance in the direction of wrong-doing.
I was reflecting' on things of this sort, when, looking
through the cracks of my prison, to ascertain the state of'
matters without, I was surprised by the appearance of a
man on horseback, who was entering the clearing on its
eastern side, seemingly quite at home in his course, though
he was travelling without even a foot-path to aid him. As
this man had a pair of the common saddle-bags of the day
on his horse, I at first took him for one of those practitioners
of the healing art, who are constantly met with in the new
settlements, winding their way through stumps, logs, mo.
rasses and forests, the ministers of good or evil, I shall not
pretend to say which.  Ordinarily, families like that of
Thousandacres do their own " doctoring;" but a case might
occur that demanded the wisdom of the licensed leech; and
I had just decided in my own mind that this must be one,
when, as the stranger drew nearer, to my surprise I saw
that it was no other than my late agent, Mr. Jason New
come, and the moral and physical factotum oti Ravensnest!
As the distance between the mill that'squire Newcome
leased of me, and that which Thousandacres had set up or




THE  C  A AINBEA R E R.              253
the property of Mooseridge, could not be less than five-andtwenty miles, the arrival of this visiter at an hour so early
was a certain proof that he had left his own house long
before the dawn,  It was probably convenient to pass
through the farms and dwellings'of Ravensnest, on the
errand on which he was now bent, at an hour of the night
or morning when darkness would conceal the movement.
By timing his departure with the same judgment, it was
obvious he could reach home under the concealment of
the other end of the same mantle.  In a word, this visit
was evidently one, in the objects and incidents of which
it was intended that the world at large should have no
share.
The dialogues between the members of the family of
Thousandacres ceased, the moment'squire Newcome came
in view; though, as was apparent by the unmoved manner
in which his approach was witnessed, the sudden appearance of this particular visiter produced neither surprise nor
uneasiness.  Although it must have been a thing to be
desired by the squatters, to keep their " location" a secret,
more especially since the peace left landlords at leisure to
look after their lands, no one manifested any concern at
discovering this arrival in their clearing of the nearest
magistrate. Any one might see, by the manner of men,
women and children, that'squire Newcome was no stranger,
and that his presence gave them no alarm. Even the early
hour of this visit was most probably that to which they
were accustomed, the quick-witted intellects of the young
fry causing them to understand the reason quite as readily
as was the case with their seniors.  In a word, the guest
was regarded as a friend, rather than as an enemy.
Newcome was some little time, after he came into view,
in reaching the hamlet, if the cluster of buildings can be so
termed; and when he did alight, it was, before the door
of a stable, towards which one of the boys now scampered,
to be in readiness to receive his horse.  The beast disposed
of, the'squire advanced to the spot where Thousandacres
and his elder sons still remained to receive him, or that near
the mill. The manner in which all parties shook hands,
and the cordiality of the salutations generally, in which
Prudence and her daughters soon shared, betokened some.
22




254           TI E CAINBEAREIt.
thing more than amity, I fancied, for it looked very much
like intimacy.
Jason Newcome remained in the family group some eight
or ten minutes, and I could almost fancy the prescribed
inquiries about the-" folks" (anglice, folk), the "general
state of health," and the character of the " times," ere the
magistrate and the squatter separated themselves from the
rest of the party, walking aside like men who had matters
of moment to discuss, and that under circumstances which
could dispense with the presence of any listeners.
CHAPTER XIX.
"Peculiar both!
Our soil's strong growth
And our bold natives' hardy mind;
Sure heaven bespoke
Our hearts and oak
To give a master to mankind."
YouNG.
THOUSANDACRES and the magistrate held their way directly towards the store-house; and the log of the sentinel
offering a comfortable seat, that functionary was dismissed,
when the two worthies took his place, with their backs
turned towards my prison.  Whether this disposition of
their persons was owing to a deep-laid plan of the squatter's,
or not, I never knew; but, let the cause have been what it
might, the effect was to render me an auditor of nearly a,
that passed in the dialogue which succeeded.  It will greatl)
aid the reader in understanding the incidents about to be
recorded, if I spread on the record the language that passed
between my late agent and one who was obviously his con.
fidant in certain matters, if not in all that touched my inte.
rests in that quarter of the world. As for listening, I have
no hesitation in avowing it, inas"much as the circumstances
would have justified me in taking far greater liberties with
the customary obligations of society in its every-day aspect,
had I seen fit so to do. I was dealing with rogues, who had




THE CHAIN BEARER                    255
me in their power, and there was no obligation to be particularly scrupulous on the score of mere conventional propriety,
at least.
"As I was tellin' y'e, Thousandacres," Newconie continued the discourse by saying, and that with the familiarity
of one who well knew his companion, " the young man is
in this part of the country, and somewhere quite near you
at this moment"-I was much nearer than the'squire, himself, had any notion of at that instant -" yes, he's out in
the woods of this very property, with Chainbearer and his
gang; and, for'tinow [for aught I know], measuring out
farms within a mile or two of this very spot!"
"How  many men be there?" asked the squatter, with
interest. "If no more than the usual set,'t will be an
onlucky day for them, should they stumble on my clearin'!"
" Perhaps they will, perhaps they wunt; a body never
knows. Surveyin"s a sort o' work that leads a man here,
or it leads him there. One never knows where a line will
carry him, in the woods.  That's the reason I've kept the
crittur's out of my own timber-land; for, to speak to you,
Thousandacres, as one neighbour can speak to another
without risk, there's desp'rate large pine-trees on the unleased hills both north and east of my lot. Sometimes it's
handy to have lines about a mile, you know, sometimes't isn't.
"A curse on all lines, in a free country, say I,'squire,"
answered Thousandacres, who looked, as he bestowed this
characteristic benediction, as if he might better be named
Tenthousandacres; "they're an invention of the devil.
I fved seven whull years, in Varmount State, as it's now
called, the old Hampshire Grants; you know, next.door neigh.
bour to two families, one rorth and one south on me, and
we chopped away the whull time, jest as freely as we
pleased, and not a cross word or an angry look passed
atween us."
" I rather conclude, friend Aaron, you had all sat down
under the same title?" put in the magistrate, with a sly
took at his companion.  "When that is the case, it would
exceed all reason to quarrel."
"Why, I'll own that our titles was pretty much the
same;-possession and free axes. Then it was ag'in York
Colony landholders that our time was running.  What's




256           THE CHAINBEARER.
your candid opinion about law, on this p'int,'Squire New
come?-mI know you're a man of edication, college l'arnt
some say; though, I s'pose, that's no better''arnin' than
any other,, when a body has once got it-but what's your
opinion about possession?-Will it hold good in twenty-one
years, without writin's, or not?  Some say it will, and some
say it wunt."
" It wunt.  The law is settled; there must be a shadow
of title, or possession's good for nothin'; no better than the
scrapin's of a flour-barrel."
" I've heer'n say the opposyte of that; and there's reason
why possession should count ag'in everything. By possession, however, I don't mean hangin' up a pair of saddlebags on a tree, as is sometimes done, but goin' honestly and
fairly in upon land, and cuttin' down trees, and buildin'
mills, and housen and barns, and cuttin', and slashin', and
sawin' right and left, like all creation.  That's what I
always doos myself, and that's what I call sich a possession
as ought to stand in law-ay, and in gospel, too; for I'm
not one of them that flies in the face of religion."
"In that you're quite right; keep the gospel on your
side whatever you do, neighbour Thousandacres.  Our
Puritan fathers didn't cross the ocean, and encounter the
horrors of the wilderness, and step on the rock of Plymouth,
and undergo more than man could possibly bear, and that
all for nothin'!"
"Wa-a-l, to my notion, the' horrors of the wilderness,'
as you call'em, is no great matter; though, as for crossin'
the ocean, I can easily imagine that must be suthin' to try
a man's patience and endurance.  I never could take to the
water. They tell me there isn't a single tree growin' the
whull distance atween Ameriky and England! Floatin'
saw-logs be sometimes met with, I've heer'n say, but not a
standin' crittur' of a tree from Massachusetts bay to London
town!"
"It's all water and of course trees be scarce, Thousand.
acres; but let's come a little clusser to the p'int. As I was
tellin' you, the whelp is in, and he'll growl as loud as the
old bear himself, should he hear of all them boards you've
got in the creek —to say nothin' of the piles up here that
you haven't, even begun to put into the water."




T  lE C II AI N BEAR E R.            25
"Let him  growl," returned the old squatter, glancing
surlily towards my prison; " like a good many other crittur's
that I've met with,'t will turn out that his bark is worse
than hois bite."
"I don't know that, neighbour Thousandacres, I don't by
any means know that. Major Littlepage is a gentleman of
spirit and decision, as is to be seen by his having taken his
agency from me, who have held it so long, and gi'n it to a
young chap who has no other claim than bein' a tolerable
surveyor; but who hasn't been in the settlement more than
a twelvemonth."
I "Gi'n it to a surveyor!  Is he one of Chainbearer's
measurin' devils?"
" Just so;'t is the very young fellow Chainbearer has
has had with him this year or so, runnin' lines and measurin'
land on this. very property."
" That old fellow, Chainbearer, had best look to himself!
He's thwarted me now three times in the course of his life,
and he's gettin' to be~ desp'rate old; I'm  afeard he won't
live long!"
I could now see that Squire Newcome felt uneasy. Al-.
though a colleague of the squatter's in what is only too apt
to be considered a venial roguery in a new country, or in
the stealing -of timber,' it did not at all comport with the scale
of his'rascality to menace a man's life. He would connive
at stealing timber by purchasing the lumber at sufficiently
low prices, so long as the danger of being detected was kept
within reasonable limits, but he did not like to be connected
with any transaction that did not, in the case of necessity,
admit of a tolerably safe retreat from all pains and.penalties.
Men become very much what-not their laws —but what the
administration of their laws makes them.  In countries in
which it is prompt, sure, and sufficiently severe, crimnes are
mainly the fruits of temptation and necessity; but such a
state of society may exist, in which Justice falls into contempt by her own impotency, and men are led to offend
merely to brave her. Thus we have long laboured under
the great disadvantage of living under laws that, in-a great
degree, were fratned. for another set of circumstance-.  By
the common law it was only trespass to cut down a tree in!lnzrland; for trees were seldom or never stolen, and the
22*




258         T IE C         H A I N BE A R E R.
law did not wish to annex the penalties of felony to the
simple offence of cutting a twig in a wood.  With us, how
ever, entire new classes of offences have sprung up under
our own novel circumstances; and we probably owe a por.
tion of the vast amount of timber-stealing that has now
long existed among us, quite as much to the mistaken lenity
of the laws, as to the fact that this particular description of
property is so much exposed. Many a man would commit
a trespass of the gravest sort, who would shrink from the
corrmmission of a felony of the lowest. Such was the case
with Newcome.  He had a certain sort of law-honesty
about hini that enabled him in a degree to preserve appear.
ances. It is true he connived at the unlawful cutting of
timber by purchasing the sawed lumber, but he took good
care, at the same time, not to have any such direct connection with the strictly illegal part of the transaction, as to
involve him in the penalties of the law. Had timber-stealing
been felony, he would have often been an accessory before
the act; but, in a case of misdemeanour, the law knows no
such offence. Purchasing the sawed lumber, too, if done
with proper precaution, owing to the glorious subterfuges
permitted by" the perfection of reason," was an affair of no
personal hazard in a criminal point of view, and even ad.
mitted of so many expedients as to leave the question of
property a very open one, after the boards were fully in his
own possegsion. The object of his present visit to the clearing of Thousandacres, as the reader will most probably
have anticipated, was to profit by my supposed proximity,
and to frighten the squatter into a sale on such terms as
should leave larger profits than common in the hands of the
purchaser.  Unfortunately for the success of this upright
project, my proximity was so much greater than even Squire
Newcome supposed, as to put it in danger by the very excess of the thing that was to produce the result desired.
Little did that honest magistrate suppose that I was, the
whole time, within twenty feet of him, and that I heard all
hat passed.
" Chainbearer is about seventy," returned Newcome,
%fter musing a moment on the character of his companion's
last remark.  "Yes, about seventy, I should judge from
what I've heerd, and what I know of the man.  It's a




THE CHAINBEAREIt.                   250
good old age, but folks often live years and years beyond
it. You must be suthin' like that yourself, Thousandacres?"
"Seventy-three, every day and hour on't,'squire; and
days and hours well drawn out, too.  If you count by
old style, I b'lieve I'm a month or so older. But, I'm not
Chalinbearer. No man can say of me, that -I ever made
myself troublesome to a neighbourhood. No man can p'int
to the time when I ever disturbed his lines. No man carl
tell of the day when I ever went into court to be a witness
on-such a small matter as the length or breadth of lots, to
breed quarrels atween neighbours. No,'squire Newcome,
I set store by my character, which will bear comparison
with that of any other inhabitant of the woods I ever met
with. And what I say of myself I can say of my sons
and da'ghters, too-from Tobit down to Sampson, from Nab
to Jeruthy. We're what I call a reasonable and reconcileable breed, minding our own business, and having a respect
for that of other people. Now, here am I, in my seventyfourth year, and the father of twelve living children, and
I've mace, in my time, many and many a pitch on't, but
never was I known to pitch on land that another man had
it; possession:-and I carry my idees of possession farther
than most folks, too, for I call it possession to have said
openly, and afore witnesses, that a man intends to pitch on
any partic'lar spot afore next ploughin' or droppin' time, as
the case may be.  No, I respect possession, which ought to
be the only lawful title to property, in a free country.
When a man wants a clearin', or wants to make one, my
doctrine is, let him  look about him, and make his pitch'on
calcerlation; and when he's tired of the spot, and wants a
change, let him sell his betterments, if he lights of a chap,
and if he doos'nt, let him leave'em open, and clear off all
incumbrances, ior the next comer."
It is probable that Jason Newcome, Esq. —-magistrates in
America are exceedingly tenacious of this title, though they
have no more right to it than any one else-but Jason
Newcome, Esq.,* did not carry his notions of the rights of
*In order to understand Mr. Littlepage in what he says of
Esquires,' a word of explanation may be necessary. The term,




260             THE  C H AINBEARER.
squatters, and of the sacred character of possession, quite
as far as did his friend Thousandacres. Newcome was an
exceedingly selfish, but, withal, an exceedingly shrewd man.
I do not know that the term clever, in its broadest signification, would fitly apply to him, for, in that sense, I conceive
it means quickness and intelligence enough to do what is
right; but, he was fully entitled to receive it, under that
qualification by which we say a man is'a clever rogue.'
In a word, Mr. Newcome understo6d himself, and his rela.
tions to the community in which he lived, too well to fall
into very serious mistakes by a direct dereliction from his
duties, though he lived in a never-ceasing condition of small
divergencies that might at any time lead him into serious
difficulties.  Nevertheless, it was easy enough to see lie
had no relish for Thousandacres' allusions to the termination of the days of my excellent old friend, Chainbearer;
nor can I say that they gave me any particular concern,
for, while I knew how desperate the squatters sometimes
became, I had a notion that this old fellow's bark would
prove worse than his bite, as he had just observed of
myselfi
"Esquire," is, as every well-informed person knows, a title of honour,
standing next in degree below that of knight. On the continent of
Europe the' cuyer' properly infers nobility, I believe, as nobility is
there considered, which is little, if any more than the condition of
the old English gentry, or of the families having coat-armour. By
the English law, certain persons are born esquires, and others have
the rank ex-officio. Among the last, is a justice of the peace, who is
legally an'esquire' during his official term. Now, this rule prevailed
in the colonies, and American magistrates were, perhaps legally,
esquires, as well as the English. But, titles of honour were abolished at the revolution, and it is a singular contradiction in substance,
to hold that the principal is destroyed while the incident remains.
The rank of esquire can no more legally exist inAkmerica, than that
of knight. In one sense, neither is noble, it is true; bot in that broad
signification by which all constitutions are, and bught to be interpreted, both would come within the proscribed category, as set forth
in art. 7th, sect. 9th, and art. 1st, sect. 10. Const. U. S. Nevertheless,
so much stronger is custom than positive law, that not only every
magistrate, but every lawyer in the country fancies himself peculiarly
an'esquire!' It is scarcely necessary to add that, by usage, the
appellation is given by courtesy, wherever the English language is
spoken, to all who are supposed to belong to the class of gentlemen.
This, after all, is the only true American use of the word.-EDITOR.




T IE CHAINBEARER.                   261
It would hardly repay the trouble, were I to attempt re.
cording all that passed next between our two colloquists;
although it was a. sufficiently amusing exhibition of wily
management to frighten the squatter to part with his lumber
at a low price, on one side, and of sullen security on the:ther. The security proceeded from the fact that Thousandacres had me, at that very moment, a prisoner in his
store-house.
A bargain conducted on such terms was not likely soon
to come to a happy termination. After a great deal of
chaffering and discussing, the conference broke up, nothing
having been decided, by the magistrate's saying" Well, Thousandacres, I hope you'11 have no reason to
repent; but I kind o' fear you will."
" The loss will be mine and the b'ys, if I do," was the
squatter's answer.  " I know I can get all the boards into
the creek; and, for that matter, into the river, afore young
Littlepage can do me any harm; though there is one circumstance that may yet turn my mind-"
Here the squatter came to a pause; and Newcome, who
had risen, turned short round, eagerly, to press the doubt
that he saw was working in the other's mind.
" I thought you would think better of it," he said; "for,
it's out of doubt; shouldJ major Littlepage l'arn your pitch,
that he'd uproot you, as the winds uproot the fallin' tree."
"No,'squire, my mind's made up," Thousandacres
coolly rejoined.  "I'11 sell, and gladly; but not on the
tarms you have named. Two pounds eight the thousand foot,
board measure, and taking it all round, clear stuff and refuse,
without any store-pay, will carry off the lumber."
" Too much, Thousandacres;'altogether too much, when
you consider the risks I run.  I'm not sartain that I could
hold the lumber, even after I got it into the river; for a
replevy is a formidable thing in law, I can tell you. One
pound sixteen, one-third store-pay, is the utmost farthin' I
can offer."
In that day all our calculations were in pounds, shillings
und pence.
"Then the bargain's off.-I s'pose, squire, you've the
old avarsion to being seen in my settlements?"




262           THE CHAIN  EARER.
"Sartain — sartain,"  answered  Newcome, in  haste.
"There's no danger of that, I hope. You cannot well
have strangers among you!"
" I wunt answer for that.  I see some of the b'ys coming
out of the woods, yonder; and it seems to me there is a
fourth man with them. There is, of a sartainty; and it is
no other than Susquesus, the Onondago. The fellow is
cluss-mouthed, like most red-skins; but you can say best
whether you'd like to be seen by him, or not. I hear he's
a great fri'nd of Chainbearer's."
It was very evident that the magistrate decided, at once,
in the negative.  With a good deal of decent haste he
dodged round a pile of logs, and I saw no more of him until
I caught a distant view of his person in the skirts of the
woods, at the point whence he had issued into the clearing,
two hours before, and where he now received his horse from
the hands of the youngest of Thousandacre's sons, who led
the animal to the spot for his especial accommodation. Mr.
Newcome was no sooner in possession of his beast, again,
than he mounted and rode away into the depths of the forest.
So adroitly was this retreat conducted, that no person of
ordinary observation could possibly have detected it, unless
indeed his attention had been previously drawn to the movement.
What passed, at parting, between Thousandacres and his
visiter, I never knew; but they must have been altogether
alone, for a few minutes. When the former re-appeared,
he came out from behind the logs, his whole attention seemigly fastened on the approaching party, composed of his
sons and Susquesus. Those resolute and practised men had,
indeed, overtaken and captured the Onondago, and were
now bringing him, a prisoner, unarmed, in their midst, to
receivew the commands of their father!  Notwithstanding
all that I knew of this man, and of his character, there was
something imposing in the manner in which he now waited
for the arrival of his sons and their prisoner.' Accustomed
to exercise an almost absolute sway in his own family, the
old man had acquired some of the dignity of authority; and
as for his posterity, old and young, male and female, not
excepting Prudence, they had gained very little in the way
of freedom, by throwing aside the trammels of regular and




T  E C I    N NBEAItER.              263
recognised law, to live under the rule of their patriarch.
In this respect they might be likened to the masses, who, in
a blind pursuit of liberty, impatiently cast away the legal
and healthful restraints of society, to submit to the arbitrary,
selfish, and ever unjust dictation of demagogues. Whatever difference there might be between the two governments,
was in favour of that of the squatter, who possessed the
feelings of nature in behalf of his own flesh and blood, and
was consequently often indulgent.
It is so difficult to read an Indian's mind in his manner,
that I did not expect to ascertain the state of the Onondago's
feelings by the countenance he wore, on drawing near.  In
exterior, this man was as calm and unmoved as if just
arrived on a friendly visit.  His captors had bound him,
fearful he might elude them, in some of the thickets they
had been compelled to pass; but the thongs seemed to give
him neither mental nor bodily concern. Old Thousandacres
was stern in aspect; but he had too much experience in
Indian character-knew too well the unforgiving nature of
the Indians' dispositions, or the enduring memories that forgot neither favours nor injuries, to wantonly increase the
feeling that must naturally have been awakened between him
and his prisoner.
"-Trackless," he said, considerately, "you're an old
warrior, and must know that in troubled times every man
must look out for himself. I'm glad the b'ys warn't driven
to do you any harm; but it would never have done to let
you carry the tidings of what has happened here, this morning, to Chainbearer and his gang. How long I may have
to keep you, is more than I know myself; but your treatment shall be good, and your wilcome'warm, so long as
you give no trouble.  [ know what a red-skin's word is;
and maybe, a'ter thinkin' on it a little, I may let you out to
wander about the clearin', provided you'd give your parole
not to go off. I'11 think on't, and let you know to-morrow;
but to-day I must put you in the store'us' along with the
young chap that you travelred here with."
Thousandacres then demanded of his sons an account of
the manier in which they had taken their captive; which
it is unnecessary to relate here, as I shall have occasion to
give it directly in the language of the Indian himself. As




264          THE CIIA INBE ARER.
soon as satisfied on this head, the door of my prison was
opened, and the Onondago entered it, unbound, without
manifesting the smallest shade of regret, or any resistance.
Everthing was done in a very lock-up sort of manner; the
new prisoner being no sooner' permitted,' than the door was
secured, and I was left alone with Sureflint; one of the
younger girls now remaining near the building as a sentinel.
I waited a moment, to make certain we were alone, when i
opened the communications with my fiiend.
"I am very sorry for this, Sureflint," I commenced,'" for
I had hoped your knowledge of the woods, and practice on
trails, would have enabled you to throw off your pursuers,
that you might have carried the news of my imprisonment
to our friends.    This is a sore disappointment to me;
having made sure you would let Chainbearer know where I
am."
" W'y t'ink different, now, eh? S'pose,'cause Injin prisoner, can't help himself?"
"- You surely do not mean that you are here with your
own consent?"
" Sartain.-S'pose no want to come; am no come. You
t'ink Thousandacre's b'ys catch Susquesus in woods, and
he don't want to? Be sure, winter come, and summer
come. Be sure, gray hair come a little. Be sure, Track.
less get ole, by-'m-bye; but he moccasin leave no trail
yet!"
" As I cannot understand why you should first escape,
and then wish to come back, I must beg you to explain
yourself. Let me know all that has passed, Sureflint-how
it has passed, and'why it has passed. Tell it in your own
way, but tell it fully."
" Sartain — Why no tell? No harm; all good — some
t'ing capital! Nebber hab better luck."
" You excite my curiosity, Sureflint; tell the whole story
at once, beginning at the timewhen you slipped off, and
carrying it down to the moment of your arrival here."
Hereupon, Susquesus turned on me a significant look,
drew his pipe from his belt, filled and lighted it, and began
to smoke with a composure that was not easily disturbed.
As soon as assured that his pipe was in a proper state, however, the Indian quietly began his story.




T IIE C HA I N  E A.           265
" Now listen, you hear," he said.  "Run away,'cause
no good to stay here, and be prisoner-dat why.".
" But you are a prisoner, as it is, as well as myself; and,
by.your statement, a prisoner with your own consent."
" Sartain - nebber hab been prisoner, won't be prisoner,
if don't want to. S'pose shot, den can't help him; but in
woods, Injin nebber prisoner,'less lazy, or drunk. Rum
make great many prisoner."
" I can believe all this-but tell me the story. Why did
you go off at first?"
" S'pose don't want Chainbearer know where be, eh?
T'ink T'ousandacre ebber let you go while board in stream?
When board go, he go; not.afore. Stay all summer; want
to live in store-'us' all summer, eh?"
"Certainly not -Well, you left me, in order to let our
friends know where I was, that they might cast about for
the means of getting me free. All this I understand; what
next?"
" Next, go off in wood. Easy'nough to slip off when
T'ousandacre no look. Well, went about two mile; leave
no trail —bird make as much in air. What s'pose meet,
eh?"
"I wait for you to tell me."
"Meet Jaap-yes —meet nigger. Lookl for young master
-ebbery body in trouble, anti won'er where young chief
be. Some look here-some look out yonder-all look some.
where-Jaap look just dere."
"And you told Jaap the whole story, and sent him back
to the huts with it!"
"Sartain —just so. Make good gues dat time. Den
t'ink what do, next. Want to come back and help young
pale-face frien'; so t'ought get take prisoner one time. Like
to know how he feel to be prisoner one time. No feel so
bad as s'pose. Squatter no hard master for prisoner."
" But how did all this happen, and in what manner have
you misled the young men?"
" No hard to do at all. All he want is know how. A'ter
Jaap get his ar'n'd, and go off, made trail plainr.'nough for
squaw to find. Travel to a spring — sit down and put rifle
away off, so no need shoot, and let squatter's boys catch
23




266          THE CHAINBEARER.
me, by what you call s'prise; yes,'e pale-faces s'prise red.
man dat-time! Warrant he brag on't, well!"
-Here, then, was the simple explanation of it all! Sus..
quesus had stolen away, ii order to apprise my friends of my
situation; he had fallen in with Jaap, or Jaaf, in search of
his lost master; and, communicating all the circumstances
to the negro, had artfully allowed himself to be re-captured,
carefully avoiding a struggle, and had been brought back
and placed by my side. No explanations were necessary
to point out the advantages. By communicating with the
negro, who had been familiar for years with the clipped
manner of the Indian's mode of speaking English, everything would be made known to Chainbearer; by suffering
himself to be taken, the squatters were led by Sureflint to
suppose our capture and their "pitch" remained secrets;
while, by re-joining me, I should have the presence, counsel
and assistance of a most tried friend of my father's and
Chainbearer's, in the event of necessity.
This brief summary of his reasoning shows the admirable sagacity of the Onondago, who had kept in view every
requisite of his situation, and failed in nothing.
I was delighted with the address of Sureflint, as well as
touched by his fidelity. In the course of our conversation,
he gave me to understand that my disappearance and absence for an entire night had produced great consternation
in the huts, and that everybotly was out in quest of me and
himself, at the time when he so opportunely fell in with
Jaap.
"Gal out, too" - added the Onondago, significantly.
"S'pose good reason for dat."
This startled me a little, for I had a vague suspicion that
Susquesus must have been an unseen observer 6f my interview with Ursula Malbone; and noticing my manner on
rushing from her cabin, had been induced to follow me, as
has been related. The reader is not to suppose that my late
adventures had driven Dus from my mind. So far from
this, I thought of her incessantly; and the knowledge that
she took so much interest in me as to roam the woods in
the search, had no tendency to lessen the steadiness or intensity of my reflections. Nevertheless, common humanity
might induce one of her energy and activity to do as muck




THE CHAINBEARER.                     267
as this; and had I not her own declaration that she was
plighted to another!
After getting his whole story, I consulted the Indian on
the subject of our future proceedings. He was of opinion
that we had better wait the movements of our friends, from
whom we must hear in some mode or other, in the. course
of the approaching night, or of the succeeding day.  What
course Chainbearer might see fit to pursue, neither of us
could conijcture, though both felt assured he never would
remain quiet with two as fast friends as ourselves in durance.
My great concern was that he might resort at once to force,
for old Andries had a fiery spirit, though one that was eminently just; and he had been accustomed to see gunpowder
burned from his youth upward. Should he, on the other
hand, resort to legal means, and apply to Mr. Newcome for
warrants to arrest my captors, as men guilty of illegal personal violence, a course it struck me Frank Maibone would
be very apt to advise, what might I not expect from the
collusion of the magistrate, in the way of frauds, delays
and private machinations? In such a case, there would be
time to send me to some other place of concealment, and
the forest must have a hundred such that were accessible to
my new masters, while their friend Newcome would scarcely
fail to let them have timely notice of the necessity of some
such step. Men acting in conformity with the rules of right,
fulfilling the requirements of the law, and practising virtue,
might be so remiss as not to send information of such an
impending danger; for such persons are only too apt to rely
on the integrity of their own characters, and to put their
trust on the laws of Providence; but rogues, certain that
they -can have no such succour, depend'mainly on themselves, recognizing the well-known principle of Frederick
the Great, who thought it a safe rule to suppose that " Providence was usually on the side of strong battalions."  1
felt certain, therefore, that squire Newcome would let his
friends at the " clearing" know all that was plotting against
them, as soon as he knew it himself.
The squatters were not unkind to us prisoners ii the way
of general treatment.  Certainly I had every right to comolain of the particular wrong they did me; but, otherwise,
hey were sufficiently considerate and liberal throughout that




268           THE  C II AINBEARR.
day. Our fare was their own. We had water brought in
fresh by Lowiny no fewer than five several times; and so
attentive to my supposed wants was this girl, that she actually
brought me every book that was to be found in all the libra.
ries of the family. These were but three-a fragment of a
bible, Pilgrim's Progress, and an almanac that was four
years old.
CHAPTER XX.
"I mark'd his desultory pace,
His gestures strange, and varying face,
With many a muttered sound;
And ah! too late, aghast, I view'd
The reeking blade, the hand embru'd:
He fell, and groaning grasp'd in agony the ground."
WARTON.
IN this manner passed that long and wearying day.  I
could, and did take exercise, by walking to and fro in my
prison; but the Indian seldom stirred, from the moment he
entered. As for the squatter himself, he came no more near
the storehouse, though I saw him, two or three times in the
course of the day, in private conference with his elder sons,
most probably consulting on my case. At such moments,
their manner was serious, and there were instants when I
fancied it menacing.
Provision was made for our comfort by throwing a suffizient number of bundles of straw into the prison, and my
bllow-captive and myself had each a sufficiently comfortaole bed. A soldier was not to be frightened at sleeping on
straw, moreover; and, as for Susquesus, he asked for no
more than room to stretch himself, though it were even on a
rock. An Indian loves his ease, and takes it when it comes
n his way; but it is really amazing to what an extent his
powers of endurance go, when it becomes necessary for him
to exert them.
In the early part of the night I slept profoundly, as I be.
lieve did the Indian. I must acknowledge that an uncom




THE CHIAINBEARER.                   269
fortable distrust existed in my mind, that had some slight
effect in keeping me from slumbering, though fatigue soon
overcame the apprehensions such a feeling would be likely
to awaken. I did, not know but Thousandacres and his sons
might take it into their heads to make away with the Indian
and myself under cover of the darkness, as the most effec.
tual means of protecting themselves against the consequences
of their past depredations, and of securing the possession of
those that they had projected for the future. We were com.
pletely in their power, and, so far as the squatter knew, the
secret of our visit would die with us; the knowledge of
those of his own flesh and blood possessed on the subject
excepted. Notwithstanding these thoughts crossed my mind,
and did give me some little uneasiness, they were not sufficiently active or sufficiently prominent to prevent me from
slumbering, after I had fairly fallen asleep, without awaking
once, until it was three o'clock, or within an hour of the
approach of day.
I am not certain that any external cause aroused me from
my slumbers. But, I well remember that I lay there on my
straw, meditating for some time, half asleep and half awake,
until I fancied I heard the musical voice of Dus, murmuring
in my ear my own name. This illusion lasted some little
time; when, as my faculties gradually resumed their powers,
I became slowly convinced that some one was actually call.
ing me, and by name too, within a foot or two of my ears.
I could not be mistaken; the fact was so, and the call was
in a woman's tones. Springing up, I demanded"Who is here?  In the name of heaven can this really
be Miss Malbone-Dus!"'
" My name is Lowiny," answered my visitor, " and I'm
Thousandacres' da'ghter. But, don't speak so loud, for
there is one of the b'ys on the watch at the other end of the
store'us', and you'11 wake him up unless you're careful."
" Lowiny, is it you, my good girl?  Not content to care
for us throughout the day, you still have a thought for us
iuring the night!"
I thought the girl felt embarrassed, for she must have
been conscious of having a little trespassed on the usages
and reserve of her sex. It is rare, indeed, that any mother,
m,nd especially an American mother, ever falls so low as
23*




270           TII E C H AINEARER.
completely to become unsexed in feelings and character,
and rarer still that she forgets to impart many of the de.
cencies of woman to her daughter. Old Prudence, notwith.
standing the life she led, and the many causes of corruption
and backslidings that existed around her, was true to her
native instincts, and had taught to her girls many of those
little proprieties that become so great charms in woman.
Lowiny was far from disagreeable in person, and had the
advantage of being youthful in appearance, as well as in
fact. In addition to these marks of her sex, she had manifested an interest in my fate, from the first, that had not
escaped me; and here she was now doubtless on some
errand of which the object was our good. My remark embarrassed her, however, and a few moments passed before
she got entirely over the feeling. As soon as she did, she
again spoke.
" I don't think anything of bringing you and the Injin a
little water," she said-laying an emphasis on the words I
have put in Italics —" nor should I had we any beer or sap.
cider instead.  But all our spruce is out; and father said he
wouldn't have any more of the cider made, seein' that we
want all the sap for sugar. I hope you had a plentiful supper, Mr. Littlepage; and for fear you hadn't, I've brought
you and the red-skin a pitcher of milk and a bowl of hasty.
pudding-he can eat a'ter you've done, you know."
I thanked my kind-hearted friend, and received her gift
through a hole that she pointed out to me. The food, in the
end, proved very acceptable, as subsequent circumstances
caused our regular breakfast to be forgotten for a time.  I
was desirous of ascertaining from this girl what was said or
contemplated among her relatives, on the subject of my
future fate; but felt a nearly unconquerable dislike to be
prying into what was a species of family secrets, by putting
direct questions to her. Fortunately, the commnnicative
and friendly disposition of Lowiny, herself, soon removed
all necessity for any such step; for after executing her
main purpose, she lingered with an evident wish to gossip.
"I wish father wouldn't be a squatter any longer," the
girl said, with an earnestness that proved she was uttering
her real sentiments.  "It's awful to be for ever fighting
ag'in law!"




T HI E CHAI N B E A RER.            271
"' It would be far better if he would apply to some landowner, anfd get a farm on lease, or by purchase. Land is
so plenty, in this country, no man need go without a legal
interest in his hundred acres, provided he be only sober and
industrious."
" Father never drinks, unless it's on the Fourth of July;
and the b'ys be all pretty sober, too, as young men go,
now-a.days. I believe, Mr. Littlepage, if mother has told
father once, she has told him a thousand times, that she
doos wish he'd leave off squatting, and take writin's for
some piece of land or other.  But father says,'no —he
warn't made for writin's, nor writin's for him.' He.'s desp'ately troubled to know what to do with you, now he's got
yOU."
"Did Mr. Newcome give no -opinion on -the subject,
while he was with you?"
"'Squire Newcome! Father never let on to him a syllable about ever having seei you. He knows too much to
put himself in'squire Newcome's power, sin' his lumber
would go all the cheaper for it —What's your opinion, Mr.
Littlepage, about our right to the boards, when we've cut,
and hauled, and sawed the logs with our own hands. Don't
that make some difference?"
"What is your opinion of your right to a gown that
another girl has made out of calico she had taken from your
drawer, when your back was turned, and carried away, and
cut, and stitched, and sewed with her own.hands?"
"' She never would have any right to my calico, let her
cut it as much as she might.  But lumber is made out of
trees."
"And trees have owners, just as much as calicoes.
Hauling, and cutting, and sawing can, of themselves, give
no man a right to another man's logs."
" I was afeard it was so-" answered Lowiny, sighing
so loud as to be heard.  " There's suthin' in that old bible
I lent you that I read pretty much in that way; though
Tobit, and most of the b'ys say it don't meash any sich
thing. They say there's nothin' about lumber in the bible,
it all."
"And what does your mother tell you on this head?."
" Why, mother don't talk about it.  She wants father to




272           THE  C H A-I -B-E A R E R.
lease, or buy: but you know how it is with women, Mr.
Littlepage; when their fri'nds act, it's a!l the same as a
law to them to try to think that they act right.  Mother
never says any thing to us about the lawfulness of father's
doin's, though she often wishes he would live under writin's.
Mother wants father to try and get writin's of you, now
you're here, and in his hands. Wouldn't you give us
writin's, Mr, Littlepage, if we'd promise to give you suthin"
for rent?"
"If I did, they would be good for nothing, unless I were
free, and among friends. Deeds and leases got from men
who are'in the hands,' as you call it, of those who take
them, are of no value."
" I'm sorry for that-" rejoined Lowiny, with another
sigh-" not that I wanted you to be driven into any thing,
but, I thought if you would only consent to let father have
writin's for this clearin', it's so good a time to do it now,'twould be a pity to lose it. If it can't be done, however,
it can't, and there's no use in complaining. Father thinks
he can hold you'till the water rises, in the fall, and the
b'ys have run all the lumber down to Albany; a'ter which,
he'll not be so partic'lar about keepin' you any longer, and
may be he'II let you go."
" Hold me until the water rises! Why that will not take
place these three nonths!"
"Well, Mr. Li tlepage, three months don't seem to me
sich a desp'ate lo:lg time, when a-body is among fri'nds.
We should treat you as well as we know how, that you
may depend on-.I'll answer for it, you shall want for
nothin' that we'v', got to give."
" I dare say, n y excellent girl,.but I should be extremely
sorry to trouble y )ur family with so long a visit. As for
the boards, I ha e no power to waive the rights of the
owners of the lat d to that property; my power being
merely to sell lots to actual settlers."
"I'm sorry to wear that," answered Lowiny in a gentle
tone, that fully cc firmed her words; "for father and the,
b'ys be really aw! il, about any thing that touches their pro.
fits for work doi.'  They say their flesh and blood's in
them boards, and flesh and blood shall go, afore the boards
shall go. It makes my blood run cold to hear the way they




THE CIiAINBEARER.                   273
do talk! I'in not a bit skeary; and, last winter when I
shot the bear that was a'ter the store-hogs, mother said I
acted as well as she could have done herself, and she has
killed four bears and near upon twenty wolves, in her time.
Yes, mother said I behaved like her own da'ghter, and that
she set twice tile store by me that she did before."
"You are a brave girl, Lowiny, and an excellent one in
the main, I make no question. Whatever become of me, I
shall not forget your kindness as long as I live. It will be
a very serious matter, however, to your friends to attempt
keeping me here three or four months, as mine will certainly
have a search for me, when this clearing would be found.
I need not tell you what would be the consequence."
" What can-what will father and the b'ys do? I can't
bear to think on't - Oh! they'11 not have the hearts to try
to put you out of the way!"
" I should hope'not, for their own sakes, and for the
credit of the American name. We are not a nation addicted
to such practices, and' I should really regret to learn that
we have made so long a step towards the crimes of older
countries. But, there is little danger of anything of the sort,
after all, my good Lowiny."
" I hope so, too," the girl answered in a low, tremulous
voice; "though Tobit is a starn bein' sometimes.  He
makes father worse than he would be, if let alone, I know.
But, I must go, now. It's near day-light, and I hear'em
stirrin' in Tobit's house: It would cost me dear did any
on'em know I had been out of my bed, talking to you."
As this was said, the girl vanished. Before I could find
an aperture to watch her movements, she had disappeared.
Susquesus arose a few minutes later, but he never made
any allusion to the secret visit of the girl.  In this respect,
he observed the most scrupulous delicacy, never letting me
know by hint, look, or smile, that he had been in the least
conscious of her presence.
Day came as usual, but it did not find these squatters in
their beds. They appeared with the dawn, and most of
them were at work ere the broad light of the sun'was shed
on the forest.  Most of the men went down into the river,
and busied themselves, as we supposed, for we could not see,hem, in the water, with the apples of their eyes, their




274           THE CHAINBEARER.
boards. Old Thousandacres, however, chose to remain
near his habitation, keeping two or three well-grown lads
about him; probably adverting in his mind to the vast
importance, it was to all of his race, to make sure of his
prisoners. I could see by the thoughtful manner of the old
squatter, as he lounged around his mill, aonwng his swine,
and walked through his potatoes, that his mind wavered
greatly as to the course he ought to pursue, and that he was
sorely troubled. How long this perplexity of feeling would
have continued, and to what it might have led, it is hard to
say, had it not been cut short by an incident of a very unexpected nature, and one that called for more immediate
decision and action. I shall relate the occurrence a little
in detail.
The day was considerably advanced, and, Thousandacres
and the girl who then watched the store-house excepted,
everybody was occupied. Even Susquesus had picked up
a piece of birch, and, with a melancholy countenance, that
I fancied was shadowing forth t-he future life of a half-civil.
ized red-man, was attempting to make a broom with a part
of a knife that he had found in the building; while I was
sketching, on a leaf of my pocket-book, the mill and a bit
of mountain-land that served it for a back-ground. Thousandacres, for the first time that morning, drew near our
prison, and spoke to me. His countenance was severe, yet
I could see he was much troubled. As I afterwards ascer.
tained, Tobit had been urging on him the necessity of putting both myself and the Indian to death, as the only probable means that offered to save the lumber.
"Young man," said Thousandacres, " you have stolen
on me and mine like a thief at night, and you ought to
expect the fate of one. How in natur' can you expect men
will give up their hard'arnin's without a struggle. and a
fight for'em? You tempt me more than I can bear!"
I felt the fearful'import of these words; but human
Uature revolted at the thought of being cowed into any sub.
mission, or terms unworthy of my character, or late profession. I was' on the point of making an answer in entire
consonance with this feeling, when, in looking through the
chinks of my prison to fasten an eye on my old tyrant, I
saw Chainbearer advancing directly towards the store-house.




THE CHAINBEARER.                    275
and already within a hundred yards of us. The manner in
which I gazed at this apparition attracted the attention of
the squatter, who turned and first saw the unexpected visiter
who approached.  At the next minute, Andries was at his
side.
"So, T'ousantacres, I fint you here!" exclaimed Chainbearer. "It's a goot many years since you and I met, and
I'm sorry we meet now on such pusiness as t'is!"
"The meetin's of your own seekin', Chainbearer.  I've
neither invited nor wished for your company."
" I p'lieve you wit' all my heart.  No, no; you wish for
no chains and no chainpearers, no surveyors and no compasses, no lots and no owners, too, put a squatter: You and
I haf not to make an acquaintance for t'e first time, Thousandacres, after knowin' each'other for fifty years."
"Yes, we do know each other for fifty years; and seein'
that them years haven't sarved to bring us of a mind on
any one thing, we should have done better to keep apart,
than to come together now."
"I haf come for my poy, squatter-my nople poy, whom
you haf illegally arrestet, and mate a prisoner, in the teet' of
all law and justice. Gif me pack Mortaunt Littlepage, and
you'11 soon be rit of my conpany!"
"And how do you know that I've ever seen your' Mortaunt Littlepage?' What have I to do with your boy, that
you seek him of me? Go your ways, go your ways, old
Cbainbearer, and let me and mine alone. The world's
wide enough for us both, I tell you; and why should you be
set on your own ondoin', by runnin' ag'in a breed like that
which comes of Aaron and Prudence Timberman?"
" I care not for you or your preet," answered old Andries
sternly.  "You've darest to arrest my frient, against law
and right, and I come to demant his liperty, or to warn you
of t'e consequences."
"Don't press me too far, Chainbearer, don't press me too
far. There's desp'rate crittur's in this clearin', and them
that isn't to be driven from their righteous'arnin's by any
that carry chains or p'int compasses. Go your way, I tell
ye, and leave us to gather the harvest that comes of the
seed of our own sowin' and plantin'."
"Ye'11 gat'er it, ye'11 gat'er it all, T'ousantacres —you




276           THE CIAINBEARE R.
and yours.  Ye've sown t'e win't, ant ye'11 reap t'e whirl.
wints, as my niece' Dus Malpone has reat to me often, ot
late.  YV'11 gat'er in all your harvest, tares ant all, ye will;
and t'at sooner t'an ye t'ink for."
" I wish I'd never seen the face of the man! Go away,
I tell you, Chainbearer, and leave me to my hard'arnin's."
"Earnin's! Do you call it earnin's to chop and pillage
on anot'er's lants, and to cut his trees into logs, and to saw
his logs into poarts, and sell his poarts to speculators, and
gif no account of your profits to t'e rightful owner of it all?
Call you such t'ievin' righteous earnin's?"
"Thief Pack ag'in, old measurer! Do not the sweat of
the brow, long and hard days of toil, achin' bones, and
hungry bellies, give a man a claim to the fruit of his
labours?"
" T'at always hast peen your failin', T'ousantacres; t'at's
t'e very p'int on which you've proken town, man. You
pegin wit' your morals, at t'e startin' place t'at's most convenient to yourself and your plunterin' crew, insteat of goin'
pack to t'e laws of your Lort ant Master.  Reat what t'e
Almighty Got of Heaven ant'art' sait unto Moses, ant you'11
fint t'at you've not turnet over leafs enough of your piple.
You may chop ant you may hew, you may haul ant you
may saw, from t'is tay to t'e ent of time, and you'11 nefer
pe any nearer to t'e right t'an you are at t'is moment.  T'e
man t'at starts on his journey wit' his face in t'e wrong
tirection, olt T'ousantacres, wilt nefer reach its ent; t'ough
he trafel'till t'e sweat rolls from his poty like water. You
pegin wrong, olt man, and you must ent wrong."
I saw the cloud gathering in the countenance of the
squatter, and anticipated the outbreaking of the tempest that
followed.  Two fiery tempers had met, and, divided as they
were in opinions and practice, by the vast chasm that separates principles from expediency, right from wrong, honesty
from dishonesty, and a generous sacrifice of self to support
the integrity of a noble spirit, from a homage to self that
confounded and overshadowed all sense of right, it was not
possible that they should separate without a collision. Un.
able to answer Chainbearer's reasoning, the squatter resorted
to the argument of force.  He seized my old friend by the
throat and- made a violent effort to hurl him to the earth. I




THE CHAINBEARER.                     277
must do this man of violence and evil the justice to say,
that I do not think it was his wish at that moment to have
assistance; but the instant the struggle commenced the
conch blew, and it was easy to predict?hat many minutes
would not elapse, before the sons of Thousandacres would
be pouring in to the rescue. I would have given a world to
be able to throw down the walls of my prison, and rush
to the aid of mv sterling old friend. As for Susquesus,
he must have felt a lively interest in what was going on, but
he. remained as immoveable, and seemingly as unmoved as
a rock.
Andries Coejemans, old as he was, and it will be remem.
bered he too had seen his three-score years and ten, was
not a man to be taken by the throat with impunity. Thousandacres met with a similar assault, and a struggle followed that was surprisingly fierce and well contested, considering that both the combatants had completed the ordinary
limits of the time of man.  The squatter gained a slight
advantage in the suddenness and vigour of his assault, but
Chainbearer was still a man of formidable physical power.
In his prime, few had been his' equals; and Thousandacres
soon had reason to know that he had met more than his
match. For a single instant Chainbearer gave ground;
then he rallied, made a desperate effort, and his adversary
was hurled to the earth with a violence that rendered him,
for a short time, insensible; old Andries, himself, continuing
erect as one of the neighbouring pines, red in the face,
frowning, and more severe in aspect than I remembered
ever to have seen him before, even in battle.
Instead of pushing his advantage, Chainbearer did not
stir a foot after he had thrown off his assailant. There he
remained, lofty in bearing, proud and stern. He had reason
to believe no one was a witness of his prowess, but I could
see that the old man had a soldier's feelings at his victory.
At this instant I first let him know my close proximity by
speaking.
" Fly-for your life take to the woods, Chainbearer," I
called to him, through the chinks.'6 That conch will bring
all the tribe of the squatters upon you in two or three minutes;
the young men are close at hand, in the stream below the
24




278           T HE CHAINBEARER.
mill, at work on the logs, and have only the banks to
climb."
"Got be praiset! Mortaunt, my tear poy, you are not
injuret, t'en  I wll open t'e toor of your prison, and we
will retreat toget'er."
My remonstrances were vain.  Andries came round to
the door of the store-house, and made an effort to force it
open. That was not easy, however; for, opening outwards,
it was barred with iron, and secured by a stout lock. Chainbearer would not listen to my remonstrances, but he looked.
around him for some instrument, by means of which he
could either break the lock or draw the staple.  As the
mill was at no great distance, away he went in that direction, in quest of what he wanted, leaving me in despair at
his persevering friendship. Remonstrance was useless, however, and I was compelled to await the result in silence.
Chainbearer was still a very active man. Nature, early
training, sobriety of life in the main, and a good constitution, had done.this much for him. It was but a moment
before I saw him  in the mill, looking for the crow-bar.
This he soon found, and he- was on his way to the storehouse, in order to apply this powerful lever, when Tobit
came in sight, followed by all the brethren, rushing up the
bank like a pack of hounds in cl6se pursuit. I shouted to my
friend again to fly, but he came on steadily toward my pri.
son, bent on the single object of setting me free. All this
time Thousandacres was senseless, his head having fallen
against a corner of the building. Chainbearer was so intent
on his purpose that, though he must have seen the crowd
of young men, no less than six in number, including well.
grown lads, that was swiftly advancing towards him, he did
not bestow the least attention on them. He was actually
busied with endeavouring to force the bar in between the
hasp and the post, when his arms were seized behind, and
he was. made a prisoner.
Chainbearer was no sooner apprised of the uselessness
of resistance, than he ceased to make any. As I afterwards
learned from himself, he had determined to become a captive with me, if he could not succeed in setting me free.
Tobit was the first to lay hands on the Chainbearer; an




THItE C IIAINiEAREIt.                279
so rapidly were things conducted, for it happened this man
had the key, that the door was unbarred, opened, and old
Andries was thrust into the cage, almost in the twinkling
of an eye.  The rapidity of the movement was doubtless
aided by the acquiescent feeling that happened to be upper.
most in the mind of Chainbearer, at that precise moment.
No sooner was this new prisoner secured, than the sons
of Thousandacres raised their father's body, and bore it to
his own residence, which was but a few yards distant. Old
and young, both sexes and all ages, collected in that building; and there was an hour during which we appeared to
be forgotten. The sentinel, who was a son of Tobit's, deserted his post; and even Lowiny, who had been hovering
in sight of the store-house the whole morning, seemed to
have lost, her interest in us. I was too much engaged with
my old friend, and had too many questions to ask and to
answer, however, to care much for this. desertion; whioh
moreover, was natural enough for the circumstances.
"I rejoice you are not in the hands of that pack ot
wolves, my good friend!" I exclaimed, after the first salutations had passed between Andries and myself, and squeezing
his hand again and again.  " They are very capable of any
act of violence; and I feared the sight of their father, lying
there insensible, might have inflamed them to some deed of
immediate violence. There will now be time for reflection,
and, fortunately, I am a witness of all that passed."
" No fear for olt T'ousantacres, " said Chainbearer,
heartily. " He is tough, and is only a little stunnet, pecause
he t'ought himself a petter man t'an he ist. Half an hour
will pring him rount, and make him as good a man ast'he
ever wast. But, Mortaunt, lat, how came you here, and
why wast you wantering apout t'e woods at night, wit'
Trackless, here, who ist a sensiple ret-skin, and ought to
haf set you a petter example?"
"I was hot and feverish, and could not sleep; and so I
took a stroll in the forest, and got lost.  Luckily, Susquesus
had an eye on me, and kept himself at hand the whole
time.  I was obliged to catch a nap in the top of a fallen
ire, and, when I woke in the morning, the Onondago led
me here in quest of something to eat, for I was hungry as
u famished wolf."




280           THLE CII A l N BEARER.
"Tid Susquesus, t'en, know of squatters having mate
t'eir pitch on t'is property?" asked Andries, in some surprise, and, as I thought, a little sternly.
"Not he.  He heard the saw of the mill in the stillness
of night, and we followed the direction of that sound, and
came unexpectedly out on this settlement.  As soon as
Thousandacres ascertained who I was, he shut me up here;
and as for Susquesus, Jaap has doubtless told you the story
he was commissioned to. relate."
"All fery true, lat, all fery true; t'ough I don't half understant, yet, why you shoul't haf left us in t'e manner you
tit, and t'at, too, after hafin' a long talk wit' Dus. T'e gal
is heart-heafy, Mortaunt, as'tis plain to pe seen; put I
can't get a syllaple from her t'at hast t'e look of a rational
explanation.  I shall haf to ask you to tell t'e story, lat.
I was tryin' to get t'e trut' out of Dus, half of t'e way
comin' here; put a gal is as close as —— "
" Dus 1" I interrupted —" Half the way coming here?
You do not, cannot mean that Dus is with you."
"'Hist, hist-pe carerul.  You speak too lout.  I coult
wish not to let t'ese scountrels of squatters know t'at t'e gal
is so exposet, put here she ist; or, what is much t'e same,
she is in t'e woots out yonter, a looker-on, and I fear must
pe in consarn at seein' t'at I, too, am a prisoner."
" Chainbearer, how could you thus expose your niecethus bring her into the very grasp of lawless ruffians?"
"No, Mortaunt, no-t'ere is no fear of her peing insultet,
or any t'ing of t'at sort. One can reat of such t'ings in
pooks, put woman is respectet ant not insultet in America.
Not one of T'ousantacres rascals woult wount t'e ear of t'e
gal wit' an improper wort, hat he a chance, which not one
of'em hast, seein' nopody knows t'e gal is wit' me, put our.
selves. Come she woult, and t'ere wast no use in saying
her nay. Dus is a goot creature, Mortaunt, and a tutiful
gal; put it's as easy to turn a rifer up stream, as tc try to
holt her pack when she loves."
"Is that her character? " I thought.  "Then is there
little chance, indeed, of her ever becoming mine, since her
affections must have gone with her troth." Nevertheless,
my interest in the noble-hearted girl was just as strong as
if 1 held her faith, and she was to become mine in a lew




THE CH AII  BEARER.                 281
weeks. The idea that she was at that moment waiting the
return of her uncle, in the woods, was agony to me; but I
had sufficient self-command to question the Chainbearer,
until I got out of' him all of the following facts:
Jaap had carried the message of Susquesus, with great
fidelity, to those to whom the Indian had sent it. On hearing the news, and the manner of my arrest, Andries called
a council, consisting of himself, Dus, and Frank Malbone.
This occurred in the afternoon of the previous day; and that
same night, Malbone proceeded to Ravensnest, with a view
of obtaining warrants for the arrest of Thousandacres and
his gang, as well as of procuring assistance to bring them
all in, in expectation of having the whole party transferred
to the gaol at Sandy Hill. As the warrant could be granted
on.y by Mr. Newcome, I could easily see that the messen.
ger would be detained a considerable time, since the magistrate would require a large portion of the present day to
enable him to reach his house. This fact, however, I
thought it well enough to conceal from my friend, at the
moment.
Early that morning, Chainbearer, Dus, and Jaap, had left
the huts, taking the nearest route to the supposed position
of the clearing of Thousandacres, as it had been described
by the.Indian. Aided by a compass, as well as by their
ong familiarity with the woods, this party had little difficulty in reaching the spot where the Onondago and the
negro had met; after which, the remainder of the journey
was through a terra incognita, as respects the adventurers.
With some search, however, a glimpse was got of the light
of the clearing, much as one finds an island in the ocean,
when the skirts of the wood were approached. A favourable spot, one that possessed a good cover, was selected,
whence Chainbearer reconnoitred for near an hour, before he
left it. After a time he determined on the course he adopted
and carried out, leaving his niece to watch his movements,
with instructions to rejoin her brother, should he himself be
detained by the squatter.  I was a little relieved by the
knowledge of the presence of Jaap, for I knew the fidelity
of the fellow too well to suppose he would ever desert Dus;
but my prison became twice as irksome to me after I had
heard this account of Chainbearer's, as it had been before.
24*




282           THE CHAINBEARER.
CHAPTER XXI.
U Was she not all my fondest wish could frame?
Did ever mind so much of heaven partake?
Did she not love me with the purest flame?
And give up friends and fortune for my sake?
Though mild as evening skies,
With downcast, streaming eyes,
Stood the stern frown of supercilious brows,
Deaf to their brutal threats, and faithful to her vows."
SHAW
Dus was then near me-in sight of the store-house, per.
haps! But, affection for her uncle, and no interest in me,
had brought her there.  I could respect her attachment to
her old guardian, however, and admire the decision and spi.
rit she had manifested in his behalf, at the very moment the
consciousness that I had no influence on her movements was
the most profound.
" T'e gal woult come, Mortaunt," the Chainbearer continued, after having gone through his narrative; "ant, if you
know Dus, you know when she loves she wilt not be deniet
Got pless me! what a wife she woult make for a man who
wast desarfin' of her! Oh! here's a pit of a note t'e dear
creature has written to one of T'ousantacre's poys, who hast
peen out among us often, t'ough I never so much as dreamet
t'at t'e squatting olt rascal of a fat'er was on our lant, here.
Well, Zepaniah, as t'e lat is callet,.hast passet much time at
t'e Nest, working apout in t'e fielts,' and sometimes for us;
and, to own the trut' to you, Mortaunt, I do pelieve t'e young
chap hast a hankerin' a'ter Dus, and woult pe glat enough
to get t'e gal for a wife."
" He! Zephaniah Thousandacres-or whatever his infer
nal name may be-he a hankering or an attachment fol
Ursula Malbone-he think of her for a wife-he presume
so love such a perfect being!"
Hoity, toity," cried old Andries, looking round at me in
surprise, " why shoult'n't t' noy haf his feelin's ast well ast




THE  CHAINBEARER.                     283
anot'er, if he pe a squatter? Squatters haf feelin's, t'ough
t'ey haf n't much honesty to poast of. Ant, ast for honesty,
you see, Mortaunt, it is tifferent petween T'ousantacres and
his poys. T'e lats haf peen prought up to fancy t'ere ist
no great harm in lif'ing on anot'er man's lants, wherast t'is
olt rascal, t'eir fat'er, wast prought up, or t'inks he wast
prought up, in t'e very sanctum sanctorum of gotliness,
among t'e puritans, and t'at t'e'art' hast not t'eir equals in
religion, I'll warrant you. Ask olt Aaron apout his soul,
ant he'11 tell you t'at it's a petter soul t'an a Dutch soul,
and t'at it won't purn at all, it's so free from eart'.  Yes,
yes-t'at ist t'e itee wit''em  all in his part of t'e worlt.
T'eir gotliness ist so pure even sin wilt do it no great
harm."
I knew the provincial prejudices of Chainbearer too well
to permit myself to fall into a discussion on theology with
him, just at that moment; though, I must do the old man
the justice to allow that his opinion of the self-righteousness
of the children of the puritans was not absolutely without
some apology. I never had any means of ascertaining the
fact, but it would have occasioned me no surprise had I discovered that Thousandacres, and all his brood, looked down
on us New Yorkers as an especially fallen and sinful race,.which was on the high road to perdition, though encouraged
and invited to enter on a different road by the spectacle of a
chosen people so near them, following the strait and narrow path that leads to heaven. This mingling of God and
Mammon is by no means an uncommon thing among us,
though the squatters would probably have admitted themselves that they had fallen a little away, and were by no
means as good as their forefathers had once been. There
is. nothing that sticks so close to an individual, or to a community, perhaps, as the sense of its own worth. As " coming events throw their shadows before," this sentiment
leaves its shadows behind, long after the substance which
may have produced them has moved onward, or been resolved into the gases. But I must return to Zephaniah and
he note.
" And you tell me, Chainbearer, that Ursula has actually
written a note, a letter, to this young man?" I asked, as




284           THE CHAINBEARER.
soon as 1 could muster resolution enough to put so revolting
a question?
"' Sartain; here it ist, ant a very pretty lookin' letter it
is, Mortaunt. Dus does everyt'ing so hantily, ant so like a
nice young woman, t'at it ist a pleasure to carry one of her
letters. Ay-t'ere t'e lat ist now, and I'11 just call him,
and gif him his own."
Chainbearer was as good as his word, and Zephaniah
soon stood at the side of the store-house.
"Well, you wilt own, Zeph," continued the old man, "we
didn't cage you like a wilt peast, or a rogue t'at hast peen
mettlin' wit' what tidn't pelong to him, when you wast out
dmong us.  T'ere ist t'at difference in t'e treatment-put no
matter! Hiere ist a letter for you, and much goot may it
do you! It comes from one who vilt gif goot atvice; ant
you'll be none t'e worse if you follow it. I don't know a
wort t'at's in it, put you'll fint it a goot letter, I'11 answer
for it.  Dus writes peautiful letters, and in a hand almost
as plain and hantsome as His Excellency's, t'ough not quite
so large. Put her own hant isn't as large as His Excellency's, t'ough His Excellency's hant wasn't particularly
pig neit'er."
I could scarce believe my senses!  Here was Ursula
Malbone confessedly writing a letter to a son of Thousandacres the squatter, and that son admitted to be her admirer!
Devoured by jealousy, and a thousand feelings to which I
had hitherto been a stranger, I gazed at the fortunate being
who was so strangely honoured by this communication from
Dus, with the bitterest envy. Although, to own the truth,
the young squatter was a well-grown, good-looking fe'llow,
to me he seemed to be the very personification of coarseness
and vulgarity. It will readily be supposed that Zephaniah
was not entirely free from some very just imputations of the
latter character; but, on the whole, most girls of his own
class in life would be quite content with him in these re.
spects. But Ursula Malbone was not at all of his own class
in life. However reduced in fortune, she was a lady, by
education as well as by-birth; and what feelings could there
possibly be in common between her and her strange admirer? I had heard it said that women were as often taken




T IL   C IA N  E ARER.               285
by externals as men; but in this instance the externals were
coarse, and nothing extraordinary. Some females, too,
could not exist without admiration; and I had known Dus
but a few weeks, after all, and it was possible I had not penetrated the secret of her true character.  Then her original
education had been in the forest; and we often return to
our first loves, in these particulars, with a zest and devotion
for which there was no accounting. It was possible this
strange girl might have portrayed to her imagination, in the
vista of the future, more of happiness and wild enjoyment
among the woods and ravines of stolen clearings, than by
dwelling amid the haunts of men.  In short, there was
scarce a conceit tlat did not crowd on my brain, in that
moment of intense jealousy and profound unhappiness. I
was as miserable as a dog.
As for Zephaniah, the favoured youth of Ursula Malbone,
he received his letter, as I fancied, with an awkward surprise, and lounged round a corner of the building, to have
the pleasure, as it might be, of reading it to himself. This
brought him nearer to my position; for I had withdrawn,
in a disgust I could not conquer, from being near the scene
that had just been enacted.
Opening a letter, though it had -been folded by the delicate hands of Ursula Malbone, and reading it, were two very
different operations, a. Zephaniah now discovered.  The
education of the young man was very limited, and, after an
effort or two, he found it impossible to get on. With the
letter open in his hand, he found it as much a sealed book
to him as ever. Zephaniah could read writing, by dint of
a considerable deal of spelling; but it must not be a good
hand. As some persons cannot comprehend pure English,
so he found far more difficulty in spelling out the pretty,,ven characters before him, than would have been the case
had he been set at work on the pot-hooks and trammels of
one of his own sisters. Glancing his eyes around in quest
of aid, they happened to fall on mine, which were watching
his movements with the vigilance of a feline animal, through
*the chinks of the logs, and at the distance of only three feet
"rom his own face. As for the Indian, he, seemingly, took
no more note of what was passing, than lovers take of time
in a stolen interview; though I had subsequently reason to




286           THE CHAINBEARE R.
believe that nothing had escaped his observation.  Andrie,
was in a distant part of the prison, reconnoitring the clear..ng and mills with an interest that absorbed all his attention
for the moment.  Of these facts Zephaniah assured himself
by taking a look through the openings of the logs; then,
sidling along nearer to me, he said in a low voice"I don't know how it is, but, to tell you the truth, Major
Littlepage, Yorkl larnin' and Varmount larnin' be so different,
that I don't find it quite as easy to read this letter as I could
wish."
On this hint I seized the epistle, and began to read it in a
low tone; for Zephaniah asked this much of me, with a
delicacy of feeling that, in so far, was to his credit:  As
the reader may have some of the curiosity I felt myself, to
know what Ursula Malbone could possibly have to say in
this form to Zephaniah Thousandacres, I shall give the contents of this strange epistl6 in full.  It was duly directed to
"Mr. Zephaniah Timberman, Mooseridge," and in that
respect would have passed for any common communication.
Within, it read as follows:" SIR:
"As you have often professed a strong regard for me, I
now put you to the proof of the sincerity of your protesta.
tions.  My dear uncle goes to your father, whom I only
know by report, to demand the release of Major Littlepage,
who, we hear, is a prisoner in the hands of your family,
against all law and right.  As it is possible the business of
uncle Chainbearer will be disagreeable to Thousandacres,
and that warm words may pass between them, I ask of your
friendship some efforts to keep the peace; and, particularly,
should anything happen to prevent my uncle from returning,
that you would come to me in the woods-for I shall accompany the chainbearer to the edge of your clearingand let me know it. You will find me there, attended by
one of the blacks, and we can easily meet if you cross the
fields in an eastern direction, as I will send the negro to
find you and to bring you to me.
"In addition to what I have said above, Zephaniah, let
me also earnestly ask your care in behalf of Major Little.
page. Should any evil befall that gentleman, it would prove




THE CHAINBEARER.                    287
the undoing of your whole family. The law has a long
arm, and it will reach into the wilderness, as well as into a
settlement. The person of a human being is a very different
thing from a few acres of timber, and General Littlepage
will think far more of his noble son, than he will think of
all the logs that have been cut and floated away. Again
and again, therefore, I earnestly entreat of you to befriend
this gentleman, not only as you hope for my respect, but as
you hope for your own peace of mind. I have had some
connection with the circumstances that threw Mr. Littlepage
into your hands, and shall never know a happy moment
again should anything serious befall him.  Remember this,
Zephaniah, and let it influence your own conduct. I owe it
to myself and to you to add, that the answer I gave you at
Ravensnest, the evening of the raising, must remain my
answer, now and for ever; but, if you have really the regard
for me that you then professed you will do all you can to
serve Major Littlepage, who is an old friend of my uncle's,
and whose safety, owing to circumstances that you would
fully understand were they told to you, is absolutely necessary to my future peace of mind.
"Your friend,
" URSULA MALBONE."
What a Strange girl was this Dus! I suppose it is unnecessary to say that I felt profoundly ashamed of my late
jealousy, which now seemed just as absurd and unreasonable as, a moment before, it seemed justified and plausible.
God protect the wretch who is the victim of that evil-eyed
passion! He who is jealous of circumstances, in the ordi.
nary transactions of life, usually makes a fool of himself,
by seeing a thousand facts that exist in his own brain only;
but he whose jealousy is goaded on by love, must be some.
thing more than human, not to let the devils get a firm grasp
of his soul. I can give no better illustration of the weak.
ness that this last passion induces, however, than the admission I have just made, that I believed it possible Ursula
Malbone could love Zephaniah Thousandacres, or whatever
might be his real name.  I have,since pulled at my own.
hair, in rage at my own folly, as that moment of weakness
nas recurred to my mind.




288          Tl E C II A IN B EA RER n.
"She writes a desp'rate letter!" exclaimed the young
squatter, stretching his large frame, like one who had lost
command of his movements through excitement. "I
don't b'lieve, Major, the like of that gal is to be found in
York, taken as state or colony! I've a dreadful likin' for
her!"
It was impossible not to smile at this outpouring of attach.
ment; nor, on the whole, would I have been surprised at
the ambition it inferred, had the youth been buta very little
higher in the social scale. Out of the large towns, and
with here and there an exception in favour of an isolated
family, there is not, even to this day, much distinction in
classes among our eastern brethren. The great equality
of condition and education that prevails, as a rule, throughout all the rural population of New England, while it has
done so much for the great body of their people, has had
its inevitable consequencein lowering the standard of cul.
tivation among the few, both as it is applied to acquirements,
and to the peculiar notions of castes; and nothing is more
common in that part of the world, than to hear of marriages that elsewhere would have been thought incongruous,
for the simple reason of the difference in ordinary habits
and sentiments between the parties. Thus it was, that
Zephaniah, without doing as much violence to his own, as
would be doRe fo our notions of the fitness of things, might
aspire to the hand of Ursula Malbone; unattended, as she
certainly was, by any of the outward and more vulgar
signs of her real character.  I could not but feel some
respect for the young man's taste, therefore, and this so
much the more readily, because I no longer was haunted
by the very silly phantom of his possible success.
"Having this regair for Dus," I said, "I hope I may
count on your following her directions."
" What way can I sarve you, Major? I do vow, I've
every wish to do as Ursula asks of me, if I only know'd
how."
"You can undo the fastenings of our prison, here, and
let us go at once into the woods, where we shall be safe
enough against a re-capture, depend on it.  Do us that
favour, and I will give you fifty acres of land, on which
you can settle down, and become an honest man. Remem.




T HE CHA I N B E ARER.              289
ner, it vill be sumiething honourable to owvn fifty acres of
good land, in cee."
Zephaniah pondered on my tempting offer, and I could
see that he wavered in opinion, but the decision was adverse
to my wishes. He shook his head, looked round wistfully
at the woods where he supposed Dus then to be, possibly
watching his very movements, but he would not yield.'" If a father can't trust his own son, who can he trust,
n natur'?" demanded the young squatter.
" No one should be aided in doing wrong, and your fa.
ther has no just right to shut up us three, in this building,
as he has done. The deed is against the law, and to. the
law, sooner or later, will he be made to give an account
of it."
" Oh! as for the law, he cares little for that. We've
been ag'in law all our lives, and the law is ag'in us. When
a body comes to take the chance of jurors, and witnesses,
and lawyers, and poor attorney-gin'rals, and careless prosecutors, law's no great matter to stand out ag'in, in this
country.  I s'pose there is countries in which law counts
for suthin'; but, hereabouts, and all stough Varmount, we
don't kear much for the law, unless it's a matter between
man and man, and t'other side holds out for his rights, bulldog fashion. Then, I allow, it's suthin' to have the law on
your side; but it's no great matter in a trespass case."
"This may' not end in a trespass case, however. Your
father-by the way, is Thousandacres much hurt?"
"Not much to speak on," coolly answered the son, stilt
gazing in the direction of the woods.  "A'  little stunned,
but he's gettin' over it fast, and he's used to sich rubs.
Father's desp'rate solid about the head, and can stand as
much sledgehammering there, as any man I ever seed.
Tobit's tough, too, in that part; and he's need of it, for
he's for ever getting licks around the forehead and eyes."
"And, as your father comes to, what seems to be his disposition towards us?"
" Nothin' to speak on, in the way of friendship, I can tell
you! The old man's considerable riled; and when that's
he case, he'1 have his own way for all the governors and;udges in the land!"
2_5




290           THE CI AINBEARER.
"'Do you suppose he meditates any serious harm  to us
prisoners?"
"A man doosn't meditate a great deal, I guess, with such
a rap on the skull. He feels a plaguy sight more than he
thinks; and when the feelin's is up, it doosn't matter much
who's right and who's wrong. The great difficulty in your
matter is how to settle about the lumber that's in the creek.
The water's low; and the most that can be done with it,
afore November, will be to float it down to the next rift, over
which it can never go, with any safety, without more water.
It's risky to keep one like you, and to keep Chainbearer,
too, three or four months, in jail like; and it wunt do to let
you go neither, sin' you'd soon have the law a'ter us. If
we keep you, too, there'11 be a s'arch made, and a reward
offered.  Now a good many of your tenants know of this
clearin', and human natur' can't hold out ag'in a reward,
The old man knows that well; and it's what he most afeard
on. We can stand up ag'in almost anything better's than
ag'in a good, smart reward."
I was amused as well as edified with Zephaniah's simplicity and frankness, Ed would willingly have pursued the
discourse, had not Lowiny come tripping towards us, summoning her brother away to attend a meeting of the family;
the old squatter having so far recovered as to call a council
of his sons. The brother left me on the instant, but the
girl lingered at my corner of the store-house, like one who
was reluctant to depart.
"I hope the hasty-puddin' was sweet and good," said
Lowiny, casting a timid glance in at the chink.
"It was excellent, my good girl, and I thank you for It
with all my heart.  Are you very busy now?-can you
remain a moment while I make a request?"
"Oh! there's nothin' for me to do just now in the- house,
seein' that father has called the b'ys around him. Whenever he doos that, even mother is apt to quit."
"I am glad of it, as I think you are so kind-hearted and
good, that I may trust you in a matter of some importance;
may I not, my good Lowiny?"
"Squatters' da'ghters may be good, then, a'ter all, in ths
eyes of grand landholders!"' Certainly-excellent even; and I am much disposed to




T H E  CH AINBEARER.                 291
believe that you are' one of that class."   Lowiny looked
delighted; and I felt less reluctance at administering this
flattery than might otherwise have been the case, from the
circumstance that so much of what I said was really merited.
"Indeed, I know you are, and quite unfitted for this sort
of life. But I must tell you my wishes at once, for our time
may be very short."
"Do," said the girl, looking up anxiously, a slight blush
suffusing her face; the truth-telling sign of ingenuous feel.
ings, and the gage of virtue; "do, for I'm. dying to hear
it; as I know beforehand I shall do just what you ask me
to do. I don't know how it is, but when father or mother
ask me to do a thing, I sometimes feel as if I couldn't; but
I don't feel so now, at all."
"My'requests do not come often enough to tire you.
Promise me, in the first place, to keep my secret."
" That I will!" answered Lowiny, promptly, and with
emphasis.  " Not a mortal soul shall know anything on't,
and I won't so much as talk of it in my sleep, as I sometimes do, if I can any way help it."
" Chainbearer has a niece, who is very dear to him, and
who returns all his affection.  Her name is-"
"' Dus Malbone," interrupted the girl, with a faint laugh.
" Zeph has told me all about her, for Zeph and I be great
fri'nds —he tells me everything, and I tell him everything.
It's sich a comfort, you can't think, to have somebody to
tell secrets to;-well, what of Dus?"
" She is here."
"Here! I don't see anything on her" —looking round
hurriedly, and, as I fancied, in a little alarm —" Zeph says
she's dreadful han'some!"
" She is thought so, I believe; though, in that respect,
she is far from being alone. There is no want of pretty
girls in America. By saying she is here, I did not mean
here, in the store-house, but here, in the woods.  She accompanied her uncle as far as the edge of the clearinglook round, more towards the east. Do you see the black
stub, in the corn-field, behind your father's dwelling?"
"Sartain -that's plain enough to be seen - I wish I
could see Albany as plain."
" Now, look a little to the left of' that stub, and you will




292           THE  CAINBEAIt E R.
see a large chestnut, in the edge of the woods behind it -
the chestnut I mean thrusts its top out of the forest, into the
clearing, as it might be."
1" Well, I see the chestnut too, and I know it well. There's
a spring of water cluss to its roots."
"At the foot of that chestnut Chainbearer left his niece,
and doubtless she is somewhere near it now. Could you
venture to stroll as far, without going directly to the spot,
and deliver a message, or a letter?"
" To be sure I could! Why, we gals stroll about the
lots as much as we please, and it's berryin' time now. I'11
run and get a basket, and you can write your letter while
I'm gone.  La! Nobody will think anything of my goin' a
berryin' —I have a desp'rate wish to see this Dus! Do you
think she'11 have Zeph?"
" Young women's minds are so uncertain, that I should
not like to venture an opinion.  If it were one of my own
sex, now, and he had declared his wishes, I think I could
tell you with some accuracy."
The girl laughed; then she seemed a little bewildered,
and again she coloured. How the acquired- nay native
feeling of the sex, will rise up in tell.tale ingenuousness to
betray a woman!
" Well," she cried, as she ran away in quest of the basket,
"to my notion a gal's mind is as true and as much to be
depended on as that of any mortal crittur' living!"
It was now my business to write a note to Dus. The
materials for writing my pocket-book furnished. I tore out
a leaf, and approached Chainbearer, telling him what I was
about to do, and desiring to know if he had any particular
message to send,
" Gif t'e tear gal my plessin', Mortaunt. Tell her olt
Chainpearer prays Got to pless her-t'at ist all. I leaf you
to say t'e rest."
I did say the rest.  In the first place I sent the blessing
of the uncle to the niece. Then, I explained in as few words
as possible, our situation, giving it as promising an aspect
as my conscience would permit. These explanations made,
I entreated Ursula to return to her brother, and not again
expose herself so far from his protection. Of the close of
this note, I shall not say much.  It was brief but it let Dus




THE CH AINBEARER.                   293
understand that my feelings towards her were as lively as
ever; and I believe it was expressed with the power that
passion lends. My note was ended just as Lowiny appeared
to receive it. She brought us a pitcher of milk, as a sort
of excuse for returning to the store-house, received the note
in exchange, and hurried away towards the fields. As she
passed one of the cabins, I heard her calling out to a sister
that she was going for blackberries to give the prisoners.
I watched the movements of that active girl with intense
interest. Chainbearer, who had slept little since my disap*pearance, was making up for lost time; and, as for the Indian, eating and sleeping are very customary occupations
of his race, when not engaged in some hunt, or on the war.
path, or as a runner.
Lowiny proceeded towards a lot of which the bushes had
taken full possession. Here she soon disappeared, picking
berries as she proceeded, -with nimble fingers, as if she felt
the necessity of having some of the fruit to show on her re.
turn. I kept my eye fastened on the openings of the forest,
near the chestnut, as soon as the girl was concealed in the
bushes, anxiously waiting for the moment when I might see
her form re-appearing at that spot. My attention was renewed by getting a glimpse of Dus. It was but a glimpse,
the fluttering of a female dress gliding among the trees; but,
as it was too soon for the arrival of Lowiny, I knew it must
be Dus. This was cheering, as it left little reason to doubt
that my messenger would find the object of her visit.  In
the course of half an hour after Lowiny entered the bushes
I saw her, distinctly, near the foot of the chestnut. Pausing
a moment, as if to reconnoitre, the girl suddenly moved into
the forest, when I made.no doubt she and Dus had a meeting. An entire hour passed, and I saw no more of Lowiny.
In the meanwhile Zephaniah made his appearance again
at the side of the store —house. This time he came accompanied by two of his brethren, holding the key in his hand.
At first I supposed the intention was to arraign- me before
the high court of Thousandacres, but in this I was in error.
No sooner did the young men reach the door of our prison
than Zephaniah called out to the Onondago to approach it,
is he had something to say to him.
It must be dull work to a red-skin to be shut up like a
25*




294          THE C H A INBEARER.
hog afore it's wrung," said the youth, drawing his images
from familiar objects; " and I s'pose you'd be right-glad to
come out here and walk about, something like a free and
rational crittur'. What do you say, Injin-is sich your
desire?"
" Sartain," quietly answered Sureflint. " Great deal rad.
der be out dan be in here."
" So I nat'rally s'posed. Well, the old man says you
can come out on promises, if you're disposed to make'em.
So you're master of your own movements, you see."
"What he want me do? What he want me say, eh?"
"No great, matter, a'ter all, if a body has only a mind to
try to do it. In the first place, you're to give your parole
not to go off; but to stay about the clearin', and to come in
and give yourself up when the conch blows thbree short
blasts. Will you agree to that, Sus?"
"Sartain-no go'way; come back when he call-dat
mean stay where he can hear conch."
"Well, that's agreed on,. and it's a bargain. Next,
you're to agree not to go pryin' round the mill and barn,
to see what you can find, but keep away from all the buildin's but the store-'us' and the dwellings, and not to quit the
clearin'. Do you agree?"." Good; no hard to do dat."
c" Well, you're to bring no weepons into the settlement,
and to pass nothing but words and food into the other pri.
soners. Will you stand to that?"
"Sartain; willin''nough to do dat, too."
"Then you're in no manner or way to make war on any
on us'till your parole is up, and you're your own manag'in. What do you say to that, Trackless?"
"All good;'gree to do him all."
"Wa-a-l, that's pretty much all the old man stands out
for; but mother has.a condition or two that she insists on't
I shall ask. Should the worst come to the worst, and the
folks of this settlement get to blows with the folks out of it,
you're to bargain to take -no scalps of women or children,
and none from any man that you don't overcome in open
battle. The old woman will grant you the scalps of men
killed in battle, but thinks it ag'in reason to take'em   from
sich as be not so overcome."




T HE CAIN B EA R E R.              295
"G (ood; don't want to take scalp at all," answered the
indian, with an emotion he could not altogether suppress.' Got no tribe-got no young men; what good scalp do?
Nobody care howv'many scalp Susquesus take away-how.nany he leave behind. All dat forgot long time"
"Wa-a-l, that's your affair, not mine. But, as all the
articles is agreed to, you can come out, and go about your
business.  Mind, three short, sharp blasts on the conch is
the signal to come in and give yourself up."
On this singular cartel Susquesus was set at liberty.  I
heard the whole arrangement with astonishment; though,
by the manner of the high contracting parties, it was easy
to see there-was nothing novel in the arrangement, so far
as they were concerned.  I had heard that the faith of an
Indian of any character, in all such cases, was considered
sacred, and could not but ask myself, as Susquesus walked
quietly out.of prison, how many potentates and powers there
were in Christendom who, under circumstances similarly
involving their most important interests, could be found to
place a similar confidence in their fellows!  Curious to
know how my present masters felt on this subject, the opportunity. was improved to question them.
" You give the Indian his liberty on parole," I said to
Zephaniah-" will you refuse the same privilege to us white
men?"
"'An Injin is an Injin. He has his natur', and we've
our'n.  Suthin' was said About lettin: you out, too, major;
but the old man wouldn't hear to it.' He know'd mankind,' he said,' and he know'd'twould never do.' If you
let a white man loose, he sets his wits at work to find a hole
to creep out on the bargain-goin' back to the creation of
tile'ailh but he'll find one. The major will say I was put
in again' law, and now I'm  out, I'll stay out ag'in' prorniseo, or some sich reasonin', and now we have him safe,'twill be best to keep him safe! That's the substance of
the old man's idees, and you can see, major, just as well as
any on us, how likely he'11 be to change'em."
There was no contending with this logic, which in secret
I well knew to be founded in fact, and I made no further
application for my'own release. It appeared, however, that
Thousandacres himself was half-disposed to make a conces.




296              TTIE C II A INBE A RER
siorii in favour of Chainbearer, similar to that he had. granted
to the In(lian.  This struck me as singular, after the rude
collision that had already occurred between the two menbut there are points of honour that are peculiar to each condition of life, and which the men of each feel a pride not
only in causing to be respected, but in respecting themselves.
"Father had some thoughts of taking your parole, too,
Chainbearer" added, Zephaniah,'"iand he concluded he
wvould, hadn't it been that you've been living out in the settlements so much of late years, that he's not quite easy in
trusting you. A man that passes so much of his time in
running boundaries, may think himself privileged to step
over them."
"' Your fat'er ist welcome to his opinion, " answered Andries coolly.  " He'll get no parole of me, nor do I want any
favours of him. We are at sword's p'ints, young -man, and
let. him look out for himself and his lumper as pest he
can."
"Nay," answered Zephaniah, stretching himself, and
answering with spirit, though he well knew he was speaking to the uncle of Dus, and thereby endangering his interests with his mistress-" nay, Chainbearer, if it comes to
that, "twill be "hardes fetd off."  We -are a strong party
of stout men, and arn't to be frightened by the crier of a
court, or to be druv' off the land by sheep-skin. Catamounts must come ag'ih us in droves, afore we'll give an
inch."
"Go away, go away-foolish young fellow-you're your'
fat'er's son, and t'at's as much as neet pe said of you.  I
want no favours from  squatters, which ist a preed I tetest
and tespise."
I was a little surprised at hearing this answer, and at
witnessing this manifestation of feeling in Chainbearer, who,
ordinarily, was a cool, and uniformly a courteous man.  On
refiec.ion, however, I saw he was not so wrong.  An exchange of anything like civilities betwen us and our captors, might seem  to give them some claim on us; whereas,
by standing on the naked right, we had'every advantage of
them, in a moral sense, at least. Zephaniah and his brethren left us, on receiving this repulse of Andries; but Susque



T HE  C H A  NBEARER.                297
sus kept loitering around the store-house, apparently little
better off, now he was on its outside, than he had been when
in it. He had nothing to do, and his idleness was that of
an Indian-one of at race of' such terrible energies, when
energy is required, and so frequently listless, when not
pressed upon by necessity, pleasure, war, or interest.
Things were in this state, when, some time after the interview just related, we had another visit from a party
headed by Tobit.  This man came to escort Chainbearer
and myself to the cabin of Thousandacres, where all the
men of the family were assembled; and where, as it now
appeared, we were to have something like a hearing, that
might seriously affect our fates, for good or for evil. I
consulted Chainbearer on the propriety of our lending ourselves to such a measure; but I found Andries disposed to
meet the brood of squatters, face to face, and to tell them
his mind, let it be when and where it might. Finding my
friend in this temper, I made no'farther objections myself,
but left the storehouse in his company, well guarded by four
of the young men, all of whom were armed, holding our
way to the seat of justice. in that wild and patriarchal
government.
CHAPTER XXII.
" When Adam delv'd, and Eve span,
Where was then -the gentleman?"
Old Saw.
THOUSANDACRES had not altogether neglected forms,
though so much set against the spirit of the law. We found
a sort of court -collected before the door of his dwelling,
with himself in the centre, while the principal room contained no one but Prudence and one or two of her daughters.
Among the latter was Lowiny, to my surprise; for I had not
seen the girl.return from the woods, though my eyes had
not been long turned from the direction in which I had hopes
X,i catching a glimpse of Dus.




298          THE  CHAINBEARER.
Tobit led us prisoners into the house, placing us near the
door, and facing his father; an arrangement that superseded
the necessity of much watchfulness, as our only means of
escape would necessarily be by rushing through the throng
without-a thing virtually impracticable. But Chainbearer
appeared to have no thought of flight.  He entered that
circle of athletic young men with perfect indifference; and
I remember that it struck me his air resembled that which
I had often seen him assume when our regiment was on the
eve of serious service.  At such moments old Andries could,
and often did, appear grand-dignity, authority and coolness
being blended with sterling courage.
When in the room, Chainbearer and I seated ourselves
near the door, while Thousandacres had a chair on the turf
without, surrounded by his sons, all of whom were standing.
As this arrangement was made amid a grave silence, the
effect was not altogether without impressiveness, and partook
of some of the ordinary aspects of justice.  I was struck
with the anxious curiosity betrayed in the countenances of
the females in particular; for the decision to which Thousandacres was about to come, would with them have the
authority of a judgment of Solomon.  Accustomed to reason
altogether in their'own interests, I make no doubt that, in
the main, all of that semi-barbarous breed fancied themselves invested, in their lawless occupation, by some sort of
secret natural right; ignorant of the fact that, the moment
they reduced their claim to this standard, they put it on the
level with that of all the rest of mankind. Nature gives
nothing exclusively, to an individual, beyond his individuality, and that which appertains to his person and personal
qualities; all beyond, he is compelled to share, under the
law of nature, with the rest of his race.  A title dependent
on original possession forms no exception to this rule; for
it is merely human convention that gives it fbrce and authority, without which it would form no title at all. But
into mysteries like these, none of the family of Thousandacres
ever entered; though the still, small voice of conscience,
the glimmerings of right, were to be traced occasionally,
even amid the confused jumble of social maxims in which
their selfishness had taken-refuge.
We live in an age of what is called progress, and fancy




THE  CHIAINBEARER.                  299
that man is steadily advancing on the great path of his
destiny, to something that we are apt to imagine is to form
perfection. Certainly I shall not presume to say what is,
or what is not, the, divine intention as to the future destination of our species on earth; but years and experience must
have taught me, or I should have lived in vain, how little
there is among our boasted improvements that is really new;
and if we do possess anything in the way of principles that
bear on them the impress of inviolability, they are those
that have become the most venerable, by having stood the;everest tests of time.
I know not whether the long, silent pause that succeeded
our arrival, was the. result of an intention to heighten the
effect of that strange scene, or whether Thousandacres
really wished time to collect his thoughts, and to mature his
plans.  One thing struck me; notwithstanding the violence
that had so recently occurred between Chainbearer and
himself, there were no traces of resentment in the hardened
and wrinkled countenance of that old tenant of the forest;
for he was too much accustomed to those sudden outbreakings of anger, to suffer them long to linger in his recollection. In all that was said, and in all that passed, in the:ourse of that (to me) memorable day, I could trace no
nanifestation of any feeling in the squatter, in consequence
3f the rude personal rencontre that he had so lately had
with my friend.  They had clenched, and he had been
overthrown; and that ended the matter.
The'silence which occurred after we took our seats must
have lasted several minutes. For myself, I saw I was only
a secondary person in this interview; old Andries having
completely supplanted me in importance, not only in acts,
but in the estimation of the squatters. To him they were
accustomed, and accustomed, moreover, to regard as a sort
of hostile power; his very pursuit being opposed to the great
moving principle of their every.day lives. The man who
measured land, and he who took it to himself without measurement, were exactly antagonist forces, in morals as well
as inJ physics; and might be supposed not to regard each
other with the most friendly eyes.  Thus it was that the
Chainbearer actually became an object of greater interest to
these squatters:, than the son of one of the owners of the




300              THlE  CIHAINBEARER.
soil, and the attorney ill fact of both.  As for the old man
himself, I could see that he looked very Dutch; which implied a stubborn resolution bordering on obstinacy; unmoved
adherence to what he conceived to be right; and a strong
dislike to his present neighbours, in addition to other reasons,
on account of their having come from the eastward; a race
that he both distrusted and respected; disliked, yet covertly
honoured, for many a quality that was botlh ut1,fui and good.
To the next generation, the feeling that Nv:is,llce so active
1,etween the descendants of Holland among ourselves, and
the people of English birth; who came fromr the eastern
States, will be almost purely a matter of history.  I perceive
that mny father, in the manuscript he has transmitted to rme,
a.s well as I myself, have made various allusions to the subject.  It is my wish to be understood in this mattel.  I have
introduced  it solely as a fact that is beyond controversy;
but, I trust, without any ulndue bigotry of opinion.  It is
possible that both  Mr. Correlills Littlepage and his son,
nutconsciously to ourselves may have been influenced by the
ancient )prejudices of the colonies; though I have endearcoulred scrupulously to avoid thein. At any rate, if either
of us has appeared to be a little too severe, i trust the reader
will remember how miuch has been uttered to the world in
reference to this dislike, by the Yankee, and how  little by'the Dutchman, during the last century and a half, and grant
to one who is proud of the little blood from Holland that he
happens to possess, the privilege of showing, at least, one of
the phases of his own side of the story.  But it is time to
return to oui scene in the hut.
4' Chainbearer,"' comnnenced  Thousandacres, after  the
pause already mentioned had lasted several minutes, and
speaking with a dignity that could only have proceeded from
tihe inteusity of his feelings; "Chainbearer, you've been an
iniiny to me and mine sin'.the day we first met.  You're
an inimy by your cruel callin'; yet yet you've the boldness to
thrust yourself into my very hands!"
"I'n an enelny to all knaves, T'ousanltacr6s, ant I tont
care who knows it," answered old Andries, sternly; "t,at
ist my trate, ast well ast carryin' chain; ant I wish it to
pe known far and near. Ast for pein' your enemy by
callin', I may say as much of yourself; since there coult pe




THIE CHIAINBEARER.                   301
no surveyin', or carryin' of chain, tit all t'e people help
t'emselves to lant, as you haf tone your whole life, wit'out
as much as sayin' to t'e owners'py your leaf.'"
"Things have now got to a head atween us, Chain.
bearer," returned the squatter; " but seein' that you're in
my hands, I'm ready and willin' to reason the p'int with
you, in hopes that we may yet part fri'nds, and that this
may be the last of all our troubles. You and I be gettin'
to be oldish men, Chainbearer; and it's fittin' that them
that be gettin' near their eends, should sometimes think on'em.  I come from no Ddtch colony, but from a part of the
world where mankind fears God, and has some thoughts of
a futur' state."
"T'at's neit'er here nor t'ere, T'ousantacres," cried Arn.
dries, impatiently.  "Not put what religion is a goot t'ing,
and a t'ing to pe venerated, ant honouret, and worshipet;
put tfat it's out of place -in a squatter country, and most ot
all in a squatter's mout'. Can you telt me one t'ing, T'ousantacres, and t'at ist, why you Yankees pray so much, ant
call on Got to pless you ever ot'er wort, and turn up your
eyes, ant look so temure of Suntays, ant t'en go ant squat
yourselfs town on a Tutchman's lant of a Montay?  I'm
an olt man, ant haf lifed long ant seen much, ant hope I
unterstant some of t'at which I haf seen ant lifed amongst,
put I do not comprehent t'at! Yankee religion ant Tutch
religion cannot come out of t'e same piple."
" I should think not, I should think not, Chainbearer;
and I hope not, in the bargain. I do not -wish to be justified
by ways like your'n, or a religion like your'n. That which
is foreordained will come to pass, let what will happen, and
that's my trust.  But, leaving religion out of this matter
atween us altogether-"
"Ay, you'll. do well to do t'at," growled Chainbearer,
"for religion hast, inteet, very little to do wit' it."
"I say," answered Thousandacres, on a higher key, as
if resolute to make himself heard, "leaving religion for
Sabba' days and proper occasions, I'm  ready to talk this
matter over on the footin' of reason, and not only to tell
you my say, but to hear your'n, as is right atween man and
man."
"I confess a strong desire to listen to what Thousand.
26




302           THE CHAINBEARER.
acies has to say in defence of his conduct, Chainbearer," I
now thought it best to put in; " and I hope you will so far
oblige me as to be a patient-listener.  I am very willing
that you should answer, for fl'now of no person to whom
I would sooner trust a righteous cause than yourself.  Pro.
ceed, Thousandacres; my old friend will comply."
Andries did conform to my wishes, thus distinctly ex.
pressed, but it was not without sundry signs of disquiet, as
expressed in his honest countenance, and a good deal of
subdued muttering about " Yankee.cunnin' and holy gotli
ness, t'at is dresset up in wolf's clot'in;" Chainbearer mean
ing to. express the native garment of the sheep by the latter
expression, but falling into a confusion of images that is by
no means rare among the men of his caste and people. After
a pause, the squatter proceeded.
"In talkin' this matter over, young man, I purpose to
begin at the beginnin' of things," he said; " for I allow, if
you grant any value to titles, and king's grants, and sich
sort of things, that my rights here be no great matter. But,
beginnin' at the beginnin', the case is very different. You'11
admit, I s'pose, that the Lord created the heavens and the'arth, and that he created man to be master over the last."
"What of t'at?" eagerly cried Chainbearer. " What of
t'at, olt T'ousantacres? So t'e Lort createt yonter eagle
t'at is flyin' so far apove your heat, put it's no sign you are
to kill him, or he ist to kill you."
" Hear to reason, Chainbearer, and let me have my say;
a'ter which I'm willing to hear you.  I begin at the beginnin', when man was first put in possession of the'arth, to
till, and to dig, and to cut saw-logs, and to make lumber,
jist as it suited his wants and inclinations. Now, Adam
was the father of all, and to him and his posterity was the
possession of the'arth given, by Him whose title's worth
that of all the kings, and governors, and assemblies in the
known world.  Adam  lived his time, and left all things to
his posterity, and so has it been from father to. son, down
to our own day and giniration, accordin' to the law of God,
though not accordin' to the laws of man."
" Well, admittin' all you say, squatter, how does t'at
make your right here petter t'an t'at of any ot'er man?"
demanded Andries, disdainfully.




TIlE  CIHAINBEARER.                      303
"Why, reason tells us where a man's rights begin, you'11
uee, Chainbearer. Here is the'arth, as I told you, given to
man, to be used for his wants.  When you and I are born,
some parts of the world is in use, and some parts isn't. We
want land, when we are old enough to turn our hanids to
labour, and I make my pitch out here in the woods, say
where no man has pitched afore me.  Now, in my judg
ment, that makes the best of' titles, the Lord's title."*
"Well, t'en, you've got your title from  t'e Lord," answered Chainbearer, " and you've got your lant.  I s'pose
you'II not take all t'e'art' t'at is not yet peoplet, and I
shoult like to know how you wilt run your lines petween
you ant your next neighpour. Atmittin' you're here in t'e
woots, how much of t'e lant woult you take for your own
religious uses, and how much woult you leaf for t'e next
comer?"
"Each man would take as much as was necessary for
his wants, Chainbearer, and hold as much as he possessed."
" Put what ist wants, ant what ist possession?   Look
arount you, T'ousantacres, and tell me how much of t'is
fery spot you'd haf a mint to claim, under your Lort's
title?"
"How much?  As much as I have need on-enough to
feed me and mine-and enough for lumber, and to keep the
b'ys busy.  It would somewhat depend on sarcumstances:
I might want more at one time than at another, as b'ys grew
up, and the family increased in numbers."''Enough for lumper how  long? and to keep t'e poys
L Lest the reader should suppose Mr. Mordaunit Littlepage is here
recording, uselessly, the silly sayings of a selfish, ignorant and vul.
gar robber, it may be well to add, that doctrines of a calibre, considered in respect of morals and logic, similar to this, though varying
according to circumstances and the points it is desired to establish,
are constantly published in journals devoted to anti-rentism in the
state of New York, and men have acted on these principles even to
the shedding of blood. We purpose, when we come to our third
manuscript, which relates to movements of our immediate time, to
distinctly lay before the reader'some of these strange doctrines'; entertaining little doubt that those who originally promulgated them
will scarcely admire their own theories, when they see them intro.
Vuced into a work that will contain the old-fashioned notions of hoe
testy and right.-EDIToR.




304           THE CHAINBEAREIn.
pusy how long?  For a tay, or a week, or a life, or a great
numper of lifes? You myust tell me t'at, T'ousantacres,
pefore I gif cretit to your title."
"Don't be onreasonable-don't be onreisonable in your
questions. Chainbearer; and I'I1 answer every one on'em,
and in a way to satisfy you, or any judgmatical man. How
long do I want the lumber? As long as I've use for it.
flow long do I want to keep the b'ys busy?  Till they're
tired of the place, and want to change works. When a
man's a-weary.of his pitch, let him give it up for another,
selling his betterments, of course, to the best chap he can
light on."
" Oh! you't sell your petterments, woult you! What!
sell t'e Lort's title, olt T'ousantacres?' Part wit' Heaven's
gift for t'e value of poor miseraple silver and golt?"
" You don't comprehend Aaron," put in Prudence, who
saw that Chainbearer was likely to get the best of the argument, and who was always ready to come to the rescue of
any -of her tribe, whether it might be necessary with words,
or tooth and nail, or the rifle. "You don't, by no manner
of means, comprehend Aaron, Chainbearer.  His idee is,
that the Lord has made the'arth for his crittur's; that any
one that wants land, has a right to take as much as he
wants, and to use it as long as he likes; and, when he has
done, to part with his betterments for sich price as may be
agreed on."
" I stick to that," joined in the squatter, with a loud hem,
like a man who was sensible of relief; " that's my idee, and
I'm detarmined to live and die by it."
"You've lifed py it, I know very well, T'ousantacres,
ant, now you're olt, it's quite likely you'll tie py it.  As
for comprehentin', you don't comprehent yourself. I'll just
ask you, in the first place, how much lant do you holt on
t'is very spot?  You're here squattet so completely ant
finally as to haf puilt a mill. Now tell me how much laut
you holt, t'at when I come to squat alongsite of you, our
fences may not lap on one anot'er. I ask a simple question,
ant I hope'for a plain ant straight answer. Show me t'e
pountaries of.your tomain, ant how much of t'e worlt you
claim, ant how much you ton't claim."
"I've pretty much  answered that question already,




THE CHAINBEARER.                     305
Chainbearer. My creed is, that a man has a right to hold
all he wants, and to want all he holds."
" Got help t'e men, t'en, t'at haf to carry chain petween
you and your neighpours, T'ousantacres; a man's wants
to-tay may tiffer from his wants to-morrow, and to-morrow
from t'e next tay, ant so on to t'e ent of time! On your
toctrine, not'in' woult pe settlet, ant all woult pe at sixes
ant sevens."
" I don't think I'm fully understood, a'ter all that's been
said," returned the squatter. " Here's two men start in iife
at the same time, and both want farms.  Wa-a-l; there's
the wilderness, or may be it isn't all wilderness, though it
once was. One chooses to buy out betterments, and he
doos so; t'other plunges in, out o' sight of humanity, and
makes his pitch.  Both them  men's in the right, and can
hold on to their possessions, I say, to the eend'of time.
That is, on the supposition that right is stronger than
might."
" Well, well," answered Chainbearer, a little drily; "ant
s'pose one of your men ton't want to puy petterments, put
follows t'ot'er, ant makes his pitch in t'e wilterness, also?'
" Let him do't, I say; t'is his right, and the law of the
Lord."
"Put, s'pose bot' your young men want t'e same pit of
wilt lant!"
"First come, first sarv'd; that's my maxim. Let' the
spriahest chap have the land. Possession's everything in
settling land titles."
" Well, t'en, to please you, T'ousantacres, we'll let one
get aheat of t'ot'er, and haf his possession first; how much
shalt he occupy."'
"As much as he wants, I've told you, already."
" Ay, put when his slower frient comes along, ant hast
his wants, too, ant wishes to make his pitch alongsite of his
olt neighpour, where is t'e pountary petwe6n'em to be
fount?"'<Let'em agree on't! They must be dreadful poor
neighbours, ir they can't agree on so small a matter as
that," said Tobit, who was getting weary of the argument.'Tobit is right," added the father; " let'em  agree on:heir line, and run it by the eye.  Curse on all chains and
26*




306           THE CHIAINBEARER.
compasses, say I! They're an invention of the devil, to
make ill blood in a neighbourhood, and to keep strife awake,
when our bibles tell us to live in peace with all mankind."
" Yes, yes, I understant all t'at," returned Chainbearer,
a little disdainfully.  " A yankee piple ist a fery convenient
pook.  T'ere's autority in it for all sorts of toctrines ant
worshippin', ant prayin', ant preachin', ant so forth. It's
what I call a so-forth piple, Mortaunt, ant wilt reat pack.
warts as well ast forwarts; put all t'e chapters into one, if
necessary, or all t'e verses into chapters.  Sometimes St.
Luke is St. Paul, and St. John ist St. Matt'ew.  I've he'rt
your tominies expount, and no two expount alike. Novelties ist t'e religion of New Englant, ant novelties, in t'e
shape of ot'er men's lants, is t'e creet of her lofely chiltren!
Oh! yes, I've.seen a yankee piple! Put, this toes'nt settle
our two squatters; bot' of whom wants a sartain hill for its
lumper; now, which is to haf it?"
"The man that got there first, I've told you, old Chain.
bearer, and once tellin' is as good as a thousand. If the
first comer looked on that hill, and said to himself,'that
hill's mine,''t is his'n."
"Well, t'at ist making property fast! Wast t'at t'e way,
T'ousantacres, t'at you took up your estate on t'e Moose.
ridge property?"
"Sartain-I want no better title.  I got here first, and
tuck up the land, and shall continue to tuck it up, as I want
it.  There's no use in being mealy-mouthed, for I like to
speak out,'though the landlord's son be by!"
"'Oh! you speak out lout enouf, ant plain enouf, ant I
shoultn't wonter if you got tucket up yourself, one tay, for
your pains.  Here ist a tifficulty, however, t'at I'11 just
mention, T'ousantacres, for your consiteration.  You take
possession of timper-lant, by lookin' at it, you say-   "
"Even lookin' at isn't necessary," returned the squatter.
eager to widen the grasp of his rights.  " It's enough that
a man wants the land, and he comes, or sends to secure it.
Possession is everything, and I call it possession, to crave
a spot, and to make some sort of calkerlation, or works.
reasonably near it. That gives a right to cut and clear,
and when a clearin's begun, it's betterments, and every
body allows that betterments may be both bought and sold.'




THE CHAINBEARER.                      307
"Well, now we understant. each o'ter.  Put here ist t'e
small tifficults I woult mention. One General Littlepage
and one Colonel Follock took a fancy to t'is spot long pefore
t'e olt French war; ant pesites fancyin' t'e place, and sentin'
messengers to look at it, t'ey pought out t'e Injin right in t'e
first place; t'en t'ey pought of t'e king, who hat all t'e lant
in t'e country, at t'at time, ast hatn't ot'er owners.  T'en
t'ey sent surfeyors to run t'e lines, ant t'em very surveyors
passet along py t'is river, ast I know py t'eir fielt-pooks (fieldbooks): t'en more surveyors wast sent out to tivite it into great
lots, ant now more still haf come to tivite it into small lots: ant
t'ey've paid quit-rents for many years, ant tone ot'er t'ings
to prove t'ey want t'is place as. much as you want it yourself.  T'ey haf hat it more ast a quarter of a century, ant
exerciset ownership over it all t'at time; ant wantet it very
much t'e whole of t'at quarter of a century, ant, if t'e trut'
was sait, want it still."
A long_pause followed this statement, during which the
different members of the family looked at each other, as if
in quest of support.  The idea of there being aty other
side to the question than that they had been long accustomed
to consider so intently, was novel to them, and they were a
little bewildered by the extraordinary circumstance.  This
is one of the great difficulties under which the inhabitant
of a'narrow district labours, in all that pertains to his personal notions and tastes, and a good deal in what relates to
his principles.  This it is that makes the true provincial,
with his narrow views, set notions, conceit, and unhesitating
likes and dislikes. When one looks around him and sees
how very few are qualified, by experience and knowledge
of the world, to utter opinions at all, he is apt to be astonished at finding how many there are that do it. I make no
doubt that the family of. Thousandacres was just as well
satisfied with their land-ethics, as Paley ever could have
been with his moral philosophy, or Newton with his mathematical demonstrations.
" I don't wonter you're callet T'ousantacres, Aaron Tim.
oerman," continued Chainbearer, pushing his advantage,
"for wit' such a title to your estate, you might as well pe
tarmet Ten T'ousantacres'at once, ant more, too! Nay, I
wonter, while your eyes was tranwin' up title teets, t'at you




308           THE CHAINBEARER.
shoult haf peen so moterate, for it was just as easy to pos.
sess a patent on t'at sort of right, as to possess a single
farm."
But Thousandacres had made up his mind to pursue the
subject no further; and, while it was easy to see that fiery
passions were burning within him, he seemed now bent on
bringing a conference, from  which he doubtless expected'
different results, to a sudden close. It was with difficulty
that he suppressed the volcano that was raging within, but
he so far succeeded as to command Tobit to shut up his
prisoner again.
" Take him away, b'ys, take him back to the store-'us',"
said the old squatter, rising and moving a little on one side
to permit Andries to pass, as if afraid to trust himself too
near; " he was born the sarvent of the rich, and will die.
their sarvent. Chains be good enough for him, and I wish
him no greater harm than to carry chains the rest of his
days."
"Oh! you're a true son of Liperty!" called out the
Chainbearer, as he quietly returned to his prison; " a true
son of Liperty, accordin' to your own conceit! You want
efereyt'ing in your own way, and eferyt'ing in your own
pocket.  T'e Lorl's law is a law for T'ousantacres, put not
a law to care for Cornelius Littlepage or Tirck Follick!"
Although my old friend was escorted to his prison, no
attempt was made to remove me.  On the contrary, Pru.'lence joined her husband without, followed by all her young
fry, and for a moment I fancied myself forgotten and deserted.  A movement in one corner of the room, however,
drew my attention there; and I saw Lowiny standing on
tiptoe, with a finger on her lips, the sign of silence, while
she made eager gestures with the other hand, for me to enter
a small passage that communicated by means of a ladder
with the loft of the hut. My moccasins were now of great
advantage to me.  Without pausing to reflect on conse-.quences, or to-look around, I did as directed, drawing to
the door after me. There was a small window in the sort
of passage in which I now found myself alone with the girl,
and my first impulse was to force my body thlrough it, for
it had neither glass nor sash, but Lowiny caught my arms.
"Lord ha' massy on us!" whispered the girl —" you'd




THE C H A I N B E AR  R.            309
be seen and taken, or shot! For your life don't go out there
now. Here's a hole for a cellar, and there's the trap -go
down there, and wait'till you hear news from me."
There was no time Lfr deliberation, and the sight of Chainbearer's escort, as they proceeded towards the store-house,
satisfied me that the girl was right.  She held up the trap,
and I descended into the hole that answered the purposes
of a cellar. I heard Lowiny draw a chest over the trap,
and then I fancied I could distinguish the creaking of the
rounds of the ladder, as she went up into the loft, which
was the place where she usually slept.
All this occurred literally in about one minute of time.
Another minute may have passed, when I heard the heavy
tread of Thousandacres' foot on the floor above me, and the
clamour of many voices, all speaking at once. It was evident that I was missed, and a search had already been
commenced. For half a minute, nothing was very intelligible to me; then I heard the shrill voice of Prudence calling
for Lowiny.
" Lowiny -- you Lowiny!" she cried — " where has the
gal got to?"
"I'm here, mother"-answered my friend, from her loft
-" you told me to come up, and look for your new bible."
I presume this wats true; for Prudence had really despatched the girl on that errand, and it must have sufficed to
lull any suspicions of her daughter's being connected with
my disappearance, if any such had been awakened. The
movements of footsteps was now quick over my head, those
of several men being among them; and in the confusion of
voices, I heard that of Lowiny, who must have descended
the ladder and joined in the search.
"He mustn't be allowed to get off, on no account," said
Thousandacres, aloud, " or we're all ondone. Everything
we have will fall into their hands, ard mill, logs and all,
will be utterly lost. We shan't even have tinle to get off
he gear and the household stuff."
"He's up stairs"-cried one-" he must be down cellar,
said another. Steps went up the ladder, and I heard the
chest drawn from the trap; and a stream of light entering
the place, notified me that the trap was raised. The place I
was in was a hole twenty feet square, roughly walled with




310           THE CIIAINBEARER.
stones, and nearly empty, though it did contain a meat.
barrel or two, and a few old tubs.  In the winter, it would
have been filled with vegetables.  There was no place to
hide in, and an attempt at concealment' would have led to a
discovery.  I withdrew to a corner, in a part of the cellar
that was quite dark, but thought myself lost when I saw a
pair of legs descending the ladder. Almost at the same mo.
rment, three of the men and two of the women came into the
hole, a fourth female, whom I afterwards ascertained to be
Lowiny herself, standing in the -trap in such a way as to
double the darkness below.  The first man who got down
began to tumble the tubs about, and to look into the corners;
and the lucky thought occurred to me to do the same thing.
By keeping as busy as the rest of them, I actually escaped
detection in the dark; *and Tobit soon rushed to the ladder,
calling out, "the window - the window - he's not here -
the window!" In half a minute the cellar was empty again;
or no one remained but myself.
At first I had great difficulty in believing in my good luck;
but the trap fell, and the profound stillness of the place satis.
fied me that I had avoided that danger, at least.  This escape
was so singular and unexpected, that I could hardly believe'i its reality; though real it was, to all intents and purposes.
The absurd often strikes the imagination in an absurd way;
and so it proved with me on this occasion. I sat down on
a tub and-laughed heartily, when I felt absolutely certain all
was right, holding my sides lest the sound of my voice might
yet betray me. Lowiny was similarly infected, for I heard
peals of girlish laughter from her, as her brothers tumbled
about barrels, and tubs, and bedsteads, in the upper part of
the building, in their fruitless and hurried search.  This
merriment did not pass unrebuked, however; Prudence
lending her daughter a box on the side of the head, that, in
one sense, reached even my ears; though it probably aidled
in saving the girl from the suspicion of being in my secret,
by the very natural character of her girlish indulgence.
Two or three minutes after the trap closed on me for the
second time, the sounds of. footsteps and voices overhead
ceased, and the hut seemed deserted.
My situation now was far from comfortable. Confined,n a dark cellar, with no means of escaping bult by the traF




THE CII AINBEARER.                   311
and the almost certainty of, falling into the hands of my
captors, should I attempt such a thing, I now began to regret having entered so readily into Lowiny's scheme. There
would be a certain loss of dignity in a recapture, that was
not pleasant in itself; and I will own, I began to have some
doubts of my eventual safety, should I again come under the
control of such spirits as those of Thousandacres and his
eldest son. Buried in that cellar, I was in a manner placed
immediately beneath those whose aim it was to secure me,
rendering escape impossible, and detection nearly unavoidable.
Such were my meditations when light again streamed into
the cellar.  The trap was raised, and presently I heard my
name uttered in a whisper. Advancing to the ladder, I saw
Lowiny holding the door, and beckoning for me to ascend.
I followed her directions blindly, and was soon at her side.
The-girl was nearly convulsed between dread of detection
and a desire to laugh; my emerging from the cellar recalling to her imagination all the ludicrous circumstances of the
late search.
"Warn't it queer that none on'em know'd you!" she
whispered; then commanding silence by a hasty gesture.
"Don't speak; for they're s'archin' still, cluss by, and
some on'em may follow me here. I wanted to get you out
of the cellar, as some of the young-uns will be rummagin'
there soon for pork for supper; and their eyes are as sharp
as needles. Don't you think you could crawl into the mill?
It's stopped now, and wun't be goin' ag'in till this stir's
over.
" I should be seen, my good girl, if any of your people
are looking for me near at hand."
"I don't know that.  Come to the door, and you'll see
there is a way. Everybody's lookin' on the right side of
this house; and by creepin' as far as-them logs, you'd be
pretty safe. If you reach the mill safely, climb up into the
loft."
I took a moment to survey the chances. At the distance
of a hundred feet from the house there commenced a large
bed of saw-logs, which were lying alongside of each other;
and the timber being from two to four feet in diameter, it
would he very possible to creep among it, up to the mill




312           THE CHALNBEARER.
itself, into which even several of the logs had been rolled,
The great difficulty would be in reaching the logs through a
perfectly.open space. The house would be a cover, as
against most of the family, who were busy examining everything like a cover on its opposite side; -no one supposing for
a moment I could be near the mill, inasmuch as it stood
directly in front of the spot where the crowd was collected
at the moment of my sudden disappearance. But the boys
and girls were flying around in all directions; rendering it
uncertain how long they would remain in a place, or how
long their eyes would be turned away from my path.
It was necessary to do something, and I determined to
make an effort.  Throwing myself on the ground, I crawled,
rather slowly than fast, across that terrible space, and got
safely among the logs.  As there was no outcry, I knew I
had not been seen. It was now comparatively easy to reach
the mill.  Another dangerous experiment, however, was to
expose my person by climbing up to the loft. I could not do
this without running the risk of being seen; and I felt the
necessity of using great caution.  I first -raised my head
high enough to survey the state of things without. Luckily
the house was still between me and most of my enemies;
though the small-fry constantly came into view and vanished.
I looked round for a spot to ascend, and took a final survey
of the scene. There stood Lowiny in the door of the hut,
her hands clasped, and her whole air expressive of concern,
She saw my head, I knew, and I made a gesture of encou.
ragement, which caused her to start. At the next instant
my foot was on a brace, and my body was rising to the
beams above. I do not think my person was uncovered
ten seconds; and no clamour succeeded. I now felt there
were really some chances of my finally effecting an escape
an: glad enough was I to think so.




T IIE C HA IN BE ARE R.             3 3
CHAPTER XXIII.
"Alone, amid the shades,
Still in harmonious intercourse they liv'd
The rural day, and talked the flowing heart,
Or sigh'd, and looked unutterable things..THoMSON.
THAT was a somewhat breathless moment. The inten.
sity with which I listened for any sound that might announce
my discovery, was really painful. I almost fancied I heard
a shout, but none came. Then I gave myself up, actually
believing that footsteps were rushing towards the mill, with
a view to seize me. It was imagination; the rushing of
the waters below being the only real sound that disturbed
the silence of the place. I had time to breathe, and to look
about me.
As might be supposed, the mill was very rudely constructed. I have spoken of a loft, but there was nothing
that really deserved the term. Some refuse boards were
laid about, here and there, on the beams, making fragments
of rough flooring; and my first care was to draw several
of these boards close together, placing them two or three in
thickness, so as to make a place where, by lying down, I
could not be seen by any one who should happen to enter
the mill. There lay what the millers call a bunch of
cherry-wood boards at no great distance from the spot
where the roof joined the plate of the building, and within
this bunch I arranged my hiding-place.  No ostensible
change was necessary to complete it, else the experiment
might have been hazardous among those who were so much
accustomed to note circumstances of that nature. The
manner in which the lumber was arranged when I reached
the spot was so little different from what it was when I had
done with it, as scarcely to attract attention.
No sooner was my hiding-place completed to my mina,
ban I looked round to see if there were any means of making
27




314           THE CHAIN BEARE Rn.
observations without. The building was not shingle, but
the rain was kept out by placing slabs up and down, as is
often seen in the ruder, rustic, frontier architecture of
America. With the aid of my knife, I soon had a small
hole-between two of these slabs, at a place favourable to
such an object; and, though it was no larger than the eye
itself, it answered every purpose. Eagerly enough did I
-now commence my survey.
The search was still going on actively.  Those expe.
rienced border-men well knew it was not possible for me
to cross the open ground and to reach the woods in the short
interval of time between any disappearance and their discovery of the fact, and they consequently felt certain that
I was secreted somewhere near the building. Every house
had been searched, though no one thought of entering the
mill, because my movement, as all supposed, was necessa.
rily in an opposite direction. The fences were examined,
and every thing like a cover on the proper side of the house
was looked into with care and activity. It would seem that,
just as I took my first look through the hole, my pursuers
were at fault. The search had been made, and of course
without effect. Nothing likely to conceal me remained to
be examined. It was necessary to come to a stand, and to
concert measures for a further search.
The family of squatters was too much accustomed tc
their situation and its hazards, not to be familiar with all
the expedients necessary to their circumstances.  They
placed the younger children on the look-out, at the points
most favourable to my retreat, should I be in a situation to
attempt going off in that quarter of the clearing; and,
then, the father collected his older sons around him, and the
whole cluster of them, seven in number, came slowly walking towards the mill. The excitement of the first pursuit
had sensibly abated, and these practised woodsmen were,
in serious consultation on the measures next to be taken. In
this condition, the whole party entered the mill, taking their
sews, or standing in a circle directly beneath my post, and
within six feet of me. As a matter of course, I heard all
that was said, though completely hid from view.
"Here we shall be safe from the long ears of little folks,"
said the father, as he placed his own large frarre on the log




T HE C HAINBEARER.                  31 5
thit was next to be sawed. " This has been a most onac.
countable thing, Tobit, and I'd no idee at all them'ere city
bred gentry was so expart with their legs. I sometimes
think he can't be a Littlepage, but that he's one of our hill
folks, tossed out and mannered a'ter the towns' folks, to
take a body in.  It seems an onpossibility that the man
should get off, out of the midst on us, and we not see or
hear anything on him!"
"We may-as well give up the lumnber and the betterments, at once," growled Tobit, "as let him  get clear.
Should he reach Ravensnest, the first thing he'd do would
be to swear out warrants ag'in us'hll, and Newcome is not
the man to stand by squatters in trouble.  He'd no more
dare deny his landlord, than deny his meetin'."
This expression of Tobit's is worthy of notice. In the
estimation of a certain class of religionists among us, the
" meetin'," as the young squatter called his church,' had the
highest place in his estimate of potentates and powers; it is
to be feared, often even higher than the dread being for
whose worship that " meetin'" existed.
" I.don't think as hard of the'squire as all that," answered Thousandacres. " He'll never send out a warrant
ag'in us, without sendin' out a messenger to let us hear of
it, and that in time to get us all out of the way."
" And who's to get the boards in the creek out of the
way afore the water rises?  And who's to hide or carry
off all them logs? There's more than a ton weight of my
blood and bones in them very logs, in the shape of hard labour, and I'11 fight like a she-bear for her cubs afore I'11
be driven from them withdut pay."
It is very surprising that one who set this desperate value
on the property he deemed his, should have so little regard
for that which belonged to other persons.  In this respect,
however, Tobit's feeling was no more than submission to
the general law of our nature, which reverses the images
before our moral vision, precisely as we change our own
relations to them.
" It would go hard with me afore I should give up the
lumber or the clearin',.' returned Thousandacres, with emphasis.  "We've fit King George for liberty, and why
shoulldn't we fight for our property? Of what use is liberty




316          THE CHAINBE ARER.
at all, if it won't bear a man harmless out of a job of this
sort? I despise sich liberty, b'ys, and want none on it."
All the young men muttered their approbation of such a
sentiment, and it was easy enough to understand that the
elevated notion of personal rights entertained by Thousand-.
acres found an answering echo in the bosom of each of his
heroic sons. I dare say the same sympathy would have
existed between them, had they been a gang of pickpockets
collected in council in a room of the Black Horse, St. Cath.
arine's lane, Wapping, London.
" But what can we do with the young chap, father, should
we take him ag'in?" asked Zephaniah; a question, as all
will see, of some interest to myself. " He can't be kept a
great while without having a stir made a'ter him, and that
would break us up, sooner or later. We may have a clear
right to the work of our hands; but, on the whull, I rather
conclude the country is ag'in squatters."
" Who cares for the country?" answered Thousandacres
fiercely.  " If it wants young Littlepage, let it come ana
s'arch for him, as we've been doin'. If that chap falls into
Imy hands once more, he never quits'em alive, unless he
gives me a good and sufficient deed to two hundred acres,
includin' the mill, and a receipt in full, on his father's behalf, for all back claims. On them two principles my mind
is set, and not to be altered."
A long pause succeeded this bold announcement, and I
began to be afraid that my suppressed breathing might be
overheard in the profound stillness that followed. But Ze.
phaniah spoke in time to relieve me from this apprehension,
and in a way to satisfy me that the party below, all of
whom were concealed from my sight, had been pondering
on what had been said by their leader, and not listening to
detect any tell-tale sounds from me.
"I've heern say," Zephaniah remarked, "that deeds
gi'n in that way won't stand good in law.'Squire New.
come was talkin' of sich transactions the very last time I
was out at the Nest."
"I wish a body could find out what would -stand good In
Jaw!" growled Thousandacres.  ",They make their laws,
and lay great account in havin''em obsarved; and then,
when a man comes into court with everything done accord.




THE CHAINBEARER.                   317
in' to their own rules, five or six attorneys start up and bawl
out,' this is ag'in law' If a deed is to set forth so and soc
and is to have the name writ down in such a place, and is
to have what they call' hand and seal and date' beside; and
sich bein' the law, I want to know why an instrument so
made won't hold good by their confounded laws? Law is
law, all over the world, I s'pose; and though it's an accursed thing, if men agree to have it, they ought to stanc.
by their own rules. I've thought a good deal of squeezin'
writin's out of this young Littlepage; and just- as my
mind's made up to do't if I can lay hands on him ag'in,
you come out and tell me sich writin's be good for nothin'.
Zeph, Zeph-you go too often out into them settlements, and
get your mind pervarted by their wickedness and talk."
"I hope not, father, though I own I do like to go there.
I've come to a time of life when a man thinks of marryin';
and there bein' no gal here, unless it be one of my own
sisters, it's nat'ral to look into the next settlement. I'11
own sich. has been my object in going to the Nest."
"And you've found the gal you set store by? Out with
the whull truth, like a man. You know I've always been
set ag'in lyin', and have ever endeavoured to make the whull
of you speak truth. How is it, Zephaniah? have you found
a gal to your mind, and who is't? Ourn is a family into
which any body can come by askin', you'11 remember."
"Lord, father! Dus Malbone would no more think of
askin' me to have her, than she'd think of marryin' you I
I've offered three times; and she's told me, as plain as a
woman could speak, that she couldn't no how consent, and
that I hadn't ought to think of her any longer."
" Who is the gal, in this part of the country, that holds
her head so much higher than one of Thousandacres' sons?"
demanded the old squatter, with some such surprise, real or
affected, as a Bourbon might be supposed to feel at having
his alliance spurned on the score of blood.'' I'd like to
see her, and to convarse with this young woman. What
did you call1 her name, Zeph?"
" Dus Malbone, father, and the young woman that lives
with Chainbearer. She's his niece, I b'lieve, or something
of that sort."
27*




318          THE  CHAINBEARER.
" Ha! Chainbearer's niece, d'ye say?  His taken da'gh
ter.  Isr't there some mistake?"
"Dus Malbone calls old Andries'Uncle Chainbearer
and I s'pose from that she's his- niece."
"And you've offered to marry the gal three times, d'ye
tell me, Zephaniah?"
" Three times, father; and every time she has.given' no'
for her answer."
"The fourth time, may be, she'll change her mind. I
wonder if we couldn't lay hands on this gal, and bring her
into our settlement? Does she live with Chainbearer, in his
hut, out here in the woods?"
" She doos,. father."
"And doos she set store by her uncle? or is she one of
the flaunty sort that thinks more of herself and gownd, than
she does of her own flesh and blood? Can you tell me that,
Zeph?"
" In my judgment, father, Dus Malbone loves Chainbearer
as much as she would, was he her own father."
"Ay, some gals haven't half the riverence and love for
their own fathers that they should have. What's to prevint
your goin', Zephaniah, to Chainbearer's pitch, and tell the
gal that her uncle's in distress, and that you don't know
what may happen to him, and that she had better come over
and see a'ter him?  When we get her here, and she understands the natur' of the case, and you put on your Sabba'day clothes, and we send for'squire Newconce you may
find yourself a married man sooner than you thoaght for,
my son, and settle down in life. A'ter that, there'll not be
much danger of Chainbearer's tellin' on us, or of his great
fri'nd here, this major Littlepage's troublin' the lumber afore
the water rises.,"
A murmur of applause. followed this notable proposal,
and I fancied I could hear a snigger from the young man.,
as if he foufid the project to his mind, and thought it might
be feasible.
"Father," said Zephaniah, "I wish you'd call Lowiny
nere, and talk to her a little about Dus Malbone. There
she is, with Tobit's wife and mother, -looking round among
the cabbages, as if a man could be hid in such a place."




THE  CHAINBEARER.                   319
Thousandacres called to his daughter in an authoritative
way; and I soon heard the girl's step, as she came, a little
hesitatingly as I fancied, into the mill. As it would be very
natural to one in Lowiny's situation to suppose, that her
connection with my escape occasioned this summons, I could
not but feel for what I presumed was the poor girl's distress
at receiving it.
"Come here, Lowiny," commenced Thousandacres, iln
the stern manner with which it was his wont to speak to his
children; "come nearer, gal. Do you know anything of
one Dus Malbone, Chainbearer's niece?"
"Lord ha' massy! Father, how you did frighten me!
I thought you might have found the gentleman, and s'posed
I'd a hand in helpin' to hide him!"
Singular as it may seem, this burst of conscience awakened no suspicion in any of the listeners. When the girl
thus betrayed herself, I very naturally expected that such
an examination would follow as would extort the whole details
from her. Not at all, however; neither the father nor any
of the sons understood the indiscreet remarks of the girl,
but imputed them to the excitement that had just existed,
and the circumstance that her mind had, naturally enough,
been dwelling on its cause. It is probable that the very
accidental manner of my evasion, WVhich precluded the
attaching of suspicious facts to what had really occurred,
favoured Lowiny on this occasion; it being impossible that
she should be suspected from anything of that character.
1" Who's talkin' or thinkin' now of young Littlepage, at
all," returned Thousandacres a little angrily.  "I ask if
you know anything of Chainbearer's niece-one Dus Mal.
bone, or Malcome?"
"I do know suthin' of her, father," answered Lowiny,
willing enough to betray one-the lesser-of her secrets, in
order to conceal the other, which, on all accounts, was much
the most important; " though I never laid eyes on her'till
to-day.  Zeph has often talked to me of the gal that carried
chainvwith her uncle for a whull month; and he has a notion
o marry her if he can get her."
"Never laid eyes on her'till to-day! Whereabouts have
you laid eves on her to-day, gal? Is all creation comin' in




320           THE  CHAINBEARER.
upon my clearig' at once? Whereabouts have you seen
this gal to-day?"
"She come to the edge of the clearin' with her uncle,
and  "
" Well, what next? Why don't you go on, Lowiny?"
I could have told Thousandacres why his daughter hesitated; but the girl got out of the scrape by her own presence of mind and ingenuity, a little aided, perhaps, by
some practice in sins of the sort.
"Why, I went a berryin' this forenoon, and up ag'in the
berry lot, just in the edge of the woods, I saw a young
woman, and that was the Malbone gal. So we talked to.
gether, and she told me all about it. She's waitin' for her
uncle to come back."
" So, so; this is news indeed, b'ys! Do you know where
the gal is now, Lowiny?"
" Not just now, for she told me she should go deeper into
the woods, lest she should be seen; but an hour afore sun.
down she's to come to the foot of the great cltestnut, just
ag'in the berry lot; and I promised to meet her, and either
bring her in to sleep in one of our housen, or to carry her
out suthin' for supper, and to make a bed on."
This was said frankly, and with the feeling and sympathy
that females are apt,to manifest in behalf of each other. It
was evident Lowiny's audience believed every word she had
said; and the old man, in particular, determined at once to
act. I heard him move from his seat, and his voice sounded
like one who was retiring, as he said:
6" Tobit-b'ys —come with me, and we'll have one more
look for this young chap through the lumber and the housen.
It may be that he's stolen in there while our eyes have been
turned another way. Lowiny, you needn't come with us,
fobr the flutterin' way of you gals don't do no good in sich a
S'arch."'
I waited until the last heavy footstep was inaudible, and
then ventured to move far enough on my hands, to find a
crack tnat I had purposely left, with a view to take through
it an occasional look below. On the log which her father
had just left, Lowiny had seated herself. Her eye was
roaming over the upper part of the mill, as if inl quest of
me. At length she said, in a suppressed voice, —




TIHE CHAINBEARER..21
"Be yua here, still?  Father and the b'ys can't hear us
now, if you speak low."
" I am here, good Lowiny, thanks to your friendly kind.
ness, and have overheard all that passed. You saw Ursula
Malbone,. and gave her my note?'
"As true as you are there, I did; and she read it over
so often, I guess she must know it by heart."
"But, what did she say? Had she no message for her
uncle-no answer to what I had written?"
" Oh! she'd enough to say-gals love to talk, you know,
when they get with one another,.and Dus and I tafked to.
gether half an hour, or longer.  She'd plenty to say,
though it wunt do for me to sit here and tell it to you, lest
somebody wonder I stay so long in the mill."
"' You can tell me if she sent any message, or answer to
my note?"
"She never breathed a syllable about what you'd writ.
I warrant yu she's close-mouthed enough, when she gets
a line from a young man. Do you think her so desp'rate
handsome as Zeph says she is?"
This boded ill, but it was a question that it was politic to
answer, and to answer with some little discretion. If I lost
the services of Lowiny, my main stay was gone.
" She is well enough to look at, but I've -seen quite as
handsome young women, lately. But handsome or not,
she is one of your own sex, and is not to be deserted in her
trouble."
"' Yes, indeed," answered Lowiny, with an expression of
countenance that told me at once, the better feelings of her
sex had all returned again, " and I'11 not desart her, though
father drive me out of the settlement. I am tired of all this
squatting, and think folks ought to live as much in one spot
as they can. What's best to be done about Dus Malbone
— perhaps she'd like well enough to marry Zeph?"
"Did you see, or hear, any thing while with her, to
make you think so?  I am,anxious to know what she
said."
"La! She said sights of things; but most of her talk
was about old Chainbearer. She never named your name
qo much as once!"
"Did she name Zephaniah's?  I make no dcubt that




322          THE CHAINBEARER.
anxiety on account of her unclte was her chief care. What
are her intentions, and will she remain near that tree until
you come?"
" She stays under a rock not a great way from the tree,
and there she'll stay till I go to meet her, at the chestnut.
We had our talk under that rock, and it's easy enough to
find her there."
"HIow do things look, around us? Might I descend, slip
down into the bed of the river, and go round to Dus Mal.
bone, so as to give her- notice of the danger she is in?"
Lowiny did not answer me for near a minute, and I
began to fear that I had.put another indiscreet question.
The girl seemed thoughtful, but when she raised her face
so high as to allow me to see it, all the expression of the
more generous feminine sympathy was visible.
"'T would be hard to make Dus have Zeph, if she don't
like him, wouldn't it!" she said with emphasis. " I don't
know but t'would be better to let her know wha&'s coming,
so that she can choose for herself."
" She told me," I answered, with perfect truth, "that she
is engaged to another, and it would be worse than cruelit would be wicked, to make her marry one man, while she
loves another."
"She shan't do't!" cried the girl, with an animation
that I thought dangerous. But she gave me no opportunity
for remonstrance, as, all her energies being aroused, she
went to work in earnest to put me in the way of doing
what I most desired to achieve.
" D'ye see the lower corner of the mill," she continued,
hurriedly. " That post goes down to the rock over which
the water falls. You can walk to that corner without any
danger of being seen, as the ruff hides you, and when you
get there, you can wait till I tell you to get on the post.'Twill be easy to slide down that post to the rock. and
there'll be not much of a chance of being seen, as the post
will nearly hide you. When you're on the rock, you'll
find a path that leads along the creek till you come to a
foot-bridge. If you cross, that log, and take the left-hand
path,'tWill bring you out near the edge of the clearin', up
on the hill again, and then you'11 have only to follow the
edge of the woods a little way, afore you come to the




THE CHAINBE A RER.                 323
ehestnut. The rock is right off, ag'in the chestnut, only
about fifty rods."
I took in these directions eagerly, and was at the post
almost as soon as the girl ceased speaking. In order to do
this I had only to walk on the boards that lay cattered
about on the girts of the mill, the roof completely concealing the movement from any on its outside. I made my arrangemehts, and only waited for a signal, or the direction
from Lowiny, to proceed.
" Not yet," said the girl, looking down and affecting to
be occupied with something near her feet. "Father and
Tobit are walkin' this way, and lookin' right at the mill.
Now-get ready-they've turned their heads, and seem as
if they'd turn round themselves next. They've turned
away ag'in; wait one moment —now's a good time-don't
go away altogether without my seein' you once more."
I heard these last words, but it was while sliding do.n
the post. Just as my head came so low as to be in a line
with the objects scattered about the floor of the mill, I clung
to the post to catch one glimpse of what was going on without. Thousandacres and Tobit were about a hundred yards
distant, walking apart from the group of young men, and
apparently in deep consultation together. It was quite evident no alarm was taken, and down I slid to the rock. At
the next moment I was in the path, descending to the footbridge, a tree that had been felled across the stream. Until
that tree was crossed, and a slight distance of the ascent on
the other side of the stream, along the left-hand path, was
overcome, I was completely exposed to the observation of
any one who might be in a situation to look down into the
glen of the river. At almost any other moment, at that particular season, my discovery would have been nearly certain, as some of the men or boys were always at work in
the water; but the events of that morning called them else.
where, and I made the critical passage, a distance of two
hundred yards, or more, in safety. As soon as I entered
behind a cover, my speed abated, and, having risen again
to the level of the dwellings, or even a little above them, I
profited by openings among the small pine bushes that
fi-inged the path, to take a survey of the state of things
among the squatters.




324           THE  CII A I N B EARER.
There tile cluster of heavy, lounging young med was'I nousandacres and Tobit walking apart, as when last seen.
Prudence was at the door of a distant cabin, surrounded, as
usual, by a collection of the young fry, and conversing herself, eagerly, with the wives of two or three of her married
sons. Lowiny had left the mill, and was strolling along
the opposite side of the glen, so near the verge of the rocks
as to have enabled her to see the whole of my passage
across the open space. Perceiving that she was quite alone.
I ventured to hem just loud enough to reach her ear. A
hurried, frightened gesture, assured me that I had been
heard, and, first making a gesture for me to go forward, the
girl turned away, and went skipping off towards the cluster
of females who surrounded her mother.
As for myself, I now thought only of Dus. What cared
I if she did love another? A girl of her education, man.
ners, sentiments, birth and character, was not to be sacrificed to one like Zephaniah, let what might happen; and,
could I reach her place of concealment in time, she might
still be saved. These thoughts fairly winged my flight, and
I soon came in sight of the chestnut. Three minutes later
I laid a hand on the trunk of the tree itself.  As I had been
a quarter of an hour, at least, in making the circuit of that
side of the clearing, some material change might have occurred among the squatters, and I determined to advance to
the edge of the bushes, in Lowiny's "berry lot," which
completely screened the spot, and ascertain the facts, before
I sought Dus at her rock.
The result showed that some measures had been decided
on between Thousandacres and Tobit. Not one of the
males, a lad that stood sentinel at the store-house, and a
few of the smaller boys excepted, was to be seen. I examined all the visible points with care, but no one was visible. Even Susquesus, who had been lounging about the
whole day, or since his liberation, had vanished. Prudence
and her daughters, too, were in' a great commotion, hurrying from cabin to cabin, and manifesting all that restlessness
which usually denotes excitement among females. I stopped
but a moment to ascertain these leading circumstances. and
turned to seek the rock. While retiring from among the
bushes, I heard the fallen branch of a tree snap under a




F H E CHAINBEAR ER.                 325
heavy footstep, and looking cautiously around, saw Jaaf, or
Jaap as we commonly called him, advancing towards me,
carrying a rifle on each shoulder.
" Heaven's blessings on you, my faithful Jaap!" I cried,
holding out an arm to receive one of the weapons. " You
come at a most happy moment, and can lead me to Miss
Malbone."
"Yes, sah, and glad to do it, too. Miss Dus' up here, a
bit, in'e wood, and can werry soon see her. She keep me
down here to look out, and I carry bot' rifle, Masser Chainbearer's and my own,'cause Miss Dus no great hand wid
gun-powder.  But, where you cum  from, Masser Mordaunt?-and why you run away so, in night-time?"
" Never mind just now, Jaap-in proper time you shall
know all about it. Nbw, we must take care of Miss Ursula.
Is she uneasy? has she shown any fear on her uncle's
account?"
" She cry half'e time, sah-Den she look up bold, and
resolute, just like ole Masser, sah, when he tell he rijjement' charge baggonet,' and seem as if she want to go right into
T'ousandacres' huts. Lor' bless me, sah, Masser Mordaunt
— if she ask me one question about you to-day, she ask me
a hundred!"
"About me, Jaap!" —But I arrested the impulsive feeling
in good time, so as not to be guilty of pumping my own
servant concerning what others had said of me; a mean.
ness I could not easily have pardoned in myself. But I
increased my speed, and, having Jaap for my guide, was
soon at the side of Dus. The negro had no sooner pointed
out to me the object of my search, than he had the discretion to return to the edge of the clearing, carrying with
him both rifles; for I returned to him the one I had takei,
in my eagerness to hurry forward, the instant I beheld
Dus.
I can never forget the look with which that frank, noble.
hearted girl received me! It almost led me to hope that my
ears had deceived me, and that, after all, I was an object
of the highest interest with her. A few tears, half-sup.
pressed, but suppressed with difficulty, accompanied that
look; and I had the happiness of holding for some time
28




326          THE CHAINBEARER.
and of pressing to my heart, that little hand that was freely
-nay, warmly extended to me.
"Let us quit this spot at once, dearest Ursula," I cried,
the moment I could speak. " It is not safe to remain near
that family of wretches, who live by depredation and violence."
"And leave uncle Chainbearer in their hands!" answered
D s, reproachfully. "(You, surely, would not advise me to
do that!"
" If your own safety demands it, yes-a thousand times,
yes. We must fly, and there is not a moment to lose. A
design exists among those wretches to seize you, and to
make use of your fears to secure the aid of your uncle in
extricating them from the consequences of this discovery
of their robberies. It is not safe, I repeat, for you to re.
main a minute longer here."
The smile that Dus now bestowed on me was very sweet,
though I found it inexplicable; for it had as much of pain
and suffering in it, as it had of that which was winning.
"Mordaunt Littlepage, have you forgotten the words
spoken by me when we last parted?" she asked, seriously.
"Forgotten! I can never forget them! They drove me
nearly to despair, and were the cause of bringing us.all
into this difficulty."
"I told you that my faith was already plighted-that I
could not accept your noble, frank, generous, manly offer,
because another had my troth."
"You did-you did-Why renew my misery-"
"It is with a different object that I am now more explicit
-That man to whom I am pledged is in those huts, and I
cannot desert him."
"Can I believe my senses!  Do you-cah you-is it
possible that one like Ursula Malbone can love Zephaniah
Thousandacres — a squatter himself, and the son of a
squatter?"
The look with which Dus regarded me, said at once that
her astonishment was quite as great as my own. I could
have bitten off my hasty and indiscreet tongue, the instant
it had spoken; and I am sure the rush of tell-tale blood in
my face must have proclaimed to my companion that I felt




THE  CHAINBETARER.                  327
most thoroughly ashamed of myself.  This feeling was
deepened nearly to despair, when I saw the expression of
abased mortification that came over the sweet and usually
happy countenance of Dus, and the difficulty she had in
suppressing her tears.
Neither spoke for a minute; when my companion broke
silence by saying steadily-I might almost add solemnly"This, indeed, shows how low my fortune has become!
But I pardon you, Mordaunt; for, humble as that fortune
is, you have spoken nobly and frankly in my behalf, and I
exonerate you from any feeling that is not perfectly natural
for the circumstances.  Perhaps"-anda bright blush suffused the countenance of Dus as she said it —" Perhaps I
may attribute the great mistake into which you have fallen
to a passion that is most apt to accompany strong love, and
insomuch prize it, instead of throwing it away with con
tempt. But, between you and me, whatever comes of it,
there must be no more mistakes. The man to whom my
faith is plighted, and to whom my time and services are
devoted, so long as one or both of us live, is uncle Chain.
bearer, and no other.  Had you not rushed from me in the
manner you did, I might have told you this, Mordaunt, the
evening you were showing so much noble frankness yourself."
"Dus!-Ursula!-beloved Miss Malbone, have I then no
preferred rival?"
" No man has ever spoken to me of love, but this uncouth
and rude young squatter, and yourself."
" Is your heart then untouched?  Are you still mistress
of your own affections?"
The look I now received from Dus was a little saucy;
but that expression soon changed to one that had more of
the deep feeling and generous sympathy of her precious sex
in it.
"' Were I to answer' yes,' many women would think I
was being no more than true to the rights of a girl who has
been so unceremoniously treated; but —"
"But what, charming, most beloved Ursula? But what?'
"I prefer truth to coquetry, and shall not attempt to deny
what it would almost be treason against nature to suppose.
[low could a girl, educated as I have been, without- any




328          THE CHAINBEARER.
preference to tie her to another, be shut up in this forest
with a man who has treated her with so much kindness and
devotion, and manly tenderness, and insensible to his merits?
Were we in the world, Mordaunt, I think I should prefer
you to all others; being, as we are, in this forest, I know I
do."
The reader shall not be let into the sacred confidence that
followed; any further, at least, than to know the main
result. A quarter of an hour passed so swiftly, and so
sweetly, indeed, that I could hardly ta'ke it on myself to
record one-half that was said. Dus made no longer any
hesitation in declaring her attachment for me; and, though
she urged her own poverty as a just obstacle to my wishes,
it was faintly, as most Americans of either sex would do.
In this particular, at least, we may fair'ly boast of a just
superiority over all the countries of the old world. While
it is scarcely possible that either man or woman should not
see how grave a barrier to wedded happiness is interposed
by the opinions and habits of social castes, it is seldom that
any one, in his or her own proper sphere, feels that the
want of money is an insurmountable obstacle to a unionmore especially when one of the parties is provided with the
means of maintaining the household gods. The seniors
may, and do often have scruples on this score; but the
young people rarely. Dus and myself were in the complete enjoyriment of this happy Simplicity, with my arms
around her waist, and her head leaning on my shoulder
when I was aroused from a state that I fancied Elysium, by
the hoarse, raven-throated.cry of" Here she is!  Here she is, father!  Here they are
both P"
On springing forward to face the intruders, I saw Tobit
and Zephaniah directly before me, with Lowiny standing at
no great distance behind them. The first looked ferocious.
the second jealous and angry, the third abashed and mortified. In another minute we were surrounded by Thousand.
acres, and all the males of his brood.




THE CIHAINBEARBR.                   329
CHAPTER XXIV.
UMy love is young-but other loves are young;
And other loves are fair, and so is mine;
An air divine discloses whence he sprung;
He is my love Who boasts that air divine."
SHENSTOE,
A moRE rude and violent interruption of a scene in which
the more gentle qualities love to show themselves, never oc.
curred.  I, who knew the whole of the past, saw at once
that we had very'serious prospects before us; but Dus at
first felt only the consciousness and embarrassment of a
woman, who has betrayed her most sacred secret to vulgar
eyes. That very passion, which a month later, and after
the exchange of the marriage vows, it would have been her
glory to exhibit in face of the whole community, on the oc.
currence of any event of moment to myself, she now shrunk
from revealing; and I do believe that maiden bashfulness
gave her more pain, when thus arrested, than any other
cause. As for the squatters, she probably had no very clear
conceptions of their true characters; and it was one of her
liveliest wishes to be able to join her uncle. But, Thousandacres soon gave us both cause to comprehend how much he
was now in earnest.
"So, my young major, you're catched in the same nest,
Ie you!  You've your ch'ise to walk peaceably back where
you belong, or to be tied and carried there like a buck that
has been killed a little out in the woods. You never know'd
Thousandacres and his race, if you raally thought to slip
away from him, and that with twenty miles of woods around.
you!"'
I intimated a wish not to be tied, and professed a perfect
willingness to accompany my captors back to their dwellings;
for, nothing would have tempted me to desert Dus, under
the circumstances. The squatters might have declared the
road open to me, but the needle does not point more unerr28*




330          THE CHAINBEA RER.
Ingly to the pole than I should have followed my magnet,
though at liberty.
Little more was said until we had quitted the Woods, and
had reached the open fields of the clearing. I was permitted
to assist my companion through the bushes, and in climbing
a fence or two; the squatters, who were armed to a man,
frminig a circle around us, at a distance that enabled me to
whisper a few words to Dus, in the way of encouragement.
She had great natural intrepidity for a woman, and I believe I ought to escape the imputation of vanity, if I. add
that we both felt so happy at the explanations which had so
lately been had, that this new calamity could not entirely
depress us, so long as we were not separated.
" Be not downhearted, dearest Dus," I whispered, as we
approached the store-house; "after all, these wretches will
not dare to transgress against the law, very far."
" I have few fears, with you and uncle Chainbearer so
near me, Mordaunt," was her smiling answer. " It cannot
be long before we hear from Frank, who is gone, as you
must have been told, to Ravensnest, for authority and assistance. He left our huts at the same time we, left them to
come here, and must be on his return long before this."
I squeezed the hand of the dear girl, receiving a gentle
pressure in return, aMd prepared myself to be separated
from her, as I took it for granted that Prudence and her
daughters would hold watch and ward over the female pri-.soner. I had hesitated, ever since quitting the woods, about
giving her notice of the trial that probably awaited her; but,
as no attempt to coerce a marriage could be made until the
magistrate arrived, I thought it would be rendering her un.
necessarily unhappy. The trial, if it did come at all, would
come soon enough of itself; and I had no apprehension that
one of Dus's spirit and character, and who had so recently
and frankly admitted that her whole heart was mine, could
be frightened into a concession that would give Zephaniah
any claim to her. To own the truth, a mountain had been
removed from my own breast, and I.-was too happy on this
particular account, to be rendered very miserable on any
other, just a. that time. I do believe Dus was a little sus.
tained by some similar sentiment.
Dus and I parted at the door of the first house, she being




THE CHAINBEARER.                    331
transferred to the keeping of Tobit's wife, a woman who
was well bestowed on her brutal and selfish husband.  No
violence was used, however, towards the prisoner, who was
permitted.to go at large; though I observed that one or two
of the females attached themselves to her person immediately, no doubt as her keepers.
In consequence of our having approached the dwelling of
the squatters byTa new path, Chainbearer knew nothing of
the arrest of his niece, until the fact was communicated by
me. He was not even aware of my being retaken, until he
saw me about to enter the prison again; though he probably
anticipated that such might be my fate. As for Susquesus,
he seldom manifested surprise or emotion of any sort, let
what would occur.
" Well, Mortaunt, my lat, I knowet you had vanishet, py
hook or py crook, ant nopoty knowet how; put I t'ought
you woult fint it hart to t'row t'ese rascally squatters off
your trail," cried Andries, giving me a hearty shake of the
hand as I entered the prison. " Here we are, all t'ree of
us, ag'in; ant it's lucky we're such goot frients, as our
quarters are none of t'e largest or pest. The Injin fount I
was alone, so he took pack his parole, ant ist a close prisoner like t'e rest of us, put in one sense a free man. You
can tig up t'e hatchet ag'in t'ese squatters whenever you
please now; is it not so, Sureflint?"
"Sartain-truce done-Susquesus prisoner like everybody. Give T'ousandacres p'role back ag'in - Injin free
man, now."
I understood the Onondago's meaning well enough, though
his freedom.was of a somewhat questionable character. He
merely wished to say that, having given himself up to the
squatters, he was released from the conditions of his parole,
and was at liberty to make his escape, or to wage war on his
captors in any manner he saw fit. Luckily Jaap had es.
caped, for I could see no signs of even his presence being
known to Thousandacres or to his sons. It was something
to have so practised a woodsman and so true a friend still
at large, and near us; and the information he could impart,
should he fall in with Frank Malbone, with the constable and'he posse, might be of the utmost service to us. All these
points Chainbearer and I discussed at large, the Indian sit.




332           THE  CH AINBEARER.
ting by, an attentive but a silent listener. It was our joint
opinion that Malbone could not now be very far distant with
succour. What would be the effect of an attack on the
squatters it was not easy to predict, since the last might
make battle; and, small as was their force, it would be likely
to prove very available in a struggle of that nature. The
females of such a family were little less efficient than the
males, when posted behind logs; and there were a hundred
things in which their habits, experience, and boldness might
be made to tell, should matters be pushed to extremities.
" Got knows-Got only knows, Mortaunt, what will come
of it all," rejoined Chainbearer to one of' my remarks, puffing coolly at his pipe at intervals, in order to secure the fire
he had just applied to it. " Nut'in is more unsartain t'an
\war, as Sus, here, fery well knows py long exper'ence, ant
as you ought to know yourself, my poy, hafin seen sarfice,
ant warm  sarfice, too.  Shoult Frank Malpone make a
charge on t'is settlement, as, pein an olt soltier, he will pe
fery likely to do, we must make efery effort to fall in on one
of his flanks, in orter to cover t'e atvance or t'e retreat, as
may happen to pe t'e movement at t'e time."
"' I trust it will be the advance, as Malbone does not strike
me as a man likely to retreat very easily. But, are we
certain'Squire Newcome will grant the warrant he will ask
for, being in such close communion himself with these
squatters?"
" I haf t'ought of all t'at, too, Mortaunt, ant t'ere is goot
sense in it. I t'ink he will at least sent wort to T'ousantacres, to let him know what is comin', ant make as many
telays as possiple. T'e law is a lazy sarfant when it wishes
to pe slow; ant many is t'e rogue t'at hast outrun it, when
t'e race hast peen to safe a pack or a fine. Nefert'eless,
Mortaunt, t'e man who is right fights wit' great otts in his
"afor, ant is fery apt to come out pest in t'e long run.  It is
a great atvarrtage to pe always right; a trut' I've known
ant felt from poyhoot, put which hast peen mate more ant
more clear to me since t'e peace, ant I haf come pack to lif
wit' Dus.  T'at gal hast teachet me much on all such matters; ant it woult do your heart goot to see her alone wit'
an olt ignorant man in t'e woots, of a Suntay, a-tryin' to
teach him his piple, ant how he ought to lofe ant fear Got i"




THE  CHAIN  EARE R.                  333
"Does Dus do this for you, my old friend?-Does that
admirable creature really take on herself this solemn office
of duty and love! Much as I admired and esteemed her
before, for her reverence and affection for you, Chainbearer,
I now admire and esteem her the more, for this proof of her
most true and deep-seated interest in your welfare."
"I'11 tell you what, poy-Dus is petter ast twenty tominies to call a stupporn olt fellow, t'at has got a conscience
toughenet ant hartenet by lifin' t'reescore years ant ten in
t'e worlt, pack from his wicketness into t'e ways of gotliness
and peace. You're young, Mortaunt, and haf not yet got
out of t'e gristle of sin into t'e pone, ant can hartly know
how strong ist t'e holt t'at hapit and t'e worlt gets of an olt
man; put I hope you may lif long enough to see it all, ant
to feel it all." I did not even sraile, for the child-like
earnestness, and the sincere simplicity with which Andries
delivered himself of this wish, concealed its absurdity behipd a veil'of truth and feeling too respectable to admit of a
single disrespectful impulse. —" Ant t'at is t'e worst wish I
can wish you, my tear poy. You know how it hast peen
wit' me, Mortaunt; a chainpearer's callin' is none of t'e pest
to teach religion; which toes not seem to flourish in t'e
woots; t'ough why I cannot Wtll; since, as Dus has ag'in
ant ag'in shown tome, Got is in t'e trees, ant on t'e mountains, ant along t'e valleys, ant is to pe hearet in t'e prooks
ant t'e rifers, as much if not more t'an he ist to pe hearet
ant seen in t'e clearin's tnt t'e towns.. Put my life was not
a religious life afore t'e war, ant war is not a pusiness to
make a man t'ink of deat' as he ought; t'ough he hast it
tay and night, as it might pe, afore his eyes."
"And Dus, the excellent, frank, buoyant, sincere, womanly and charming Dus, adds these admirable qualities to
other merits, does she! I knew she had a profound senti.
ment on the subject of religion, Chainbearer, though I did
not know she took so very lively an interest in the welfare
of those she loves, in connection with that all-important
interest."
" You may well call t'e gal py all t'em fine worts, Mor-.
taunt, for she desarfs efery one of t'em, ant more too. No
-no-Dus isn't known in a tay.  A poty may lif in t'e
same house wit' her, ant see her smilin' face, ant hear her




334          THE CH AIN BEARER.
merry song, mont's ant mont's, ant.not I'arn all t'at t'ere ist
of gotliness, ant meekness, ant virtue, ant love, ant piety, in
t'e pottom of her soul. One tay you'll t'ink well of Dus,
Mortaunt Littlepage."
"I! —Tell me that I shall think well of Ursula Malbone,
the girl that I almost worship!-Think well of her whom I
now love with an intensity that I did not imagine was pos.
sible, three months since!-Think well of her-who fills all
my waking, and not a few of my sleeping thoughts —of
whom I dream-to whom I am betrothed-who has heard
my vows with favour, and has cheerfully promised, all
parties that are interested consenting, to become. at some
early day my wife!"
Old Andries heard my energetic exclamation with astonishment; and even the Indian turned his head to look on
me with a gratified attention.  Perceiving that I had gone so
far, under an impulse I had found irresistible, I felt the ne.
cessity of being still more explicit, and of communicating all
I had to say on the subject.
"'Yes," I added, grasping old Andries by the hand"Yes, Chainbearer, I shall comply with your often-expressed
wishes. Again and again have you recommended your
lovely niece to me as a wife,and I come now to take you
at your word, and to say that nothing will make me so
happy as to be able to call you uncle."
To my surprise, Chainbearer expressed no delight at this
announcement. I remarked that he had said nothing to me
on his favourite old subject of my marrying his niece, since
my arrival at the Nest; and now, when I was not only so
ready, but so anxious to meet his wishes, I could plainly
see that he drew back from my proposals, and wished they
had not been made. Amazed, I waited for him to speak
with a disappointment and uneasiness I cannot express.'" Mortaunt! Mortaunt!" at length broke out of the old
man's very heart —" I wish to Heafen you hat nefer sait
t'is! I lofe you, poy, almost as much as I lofe Dus, herself;
put it griefs me-it griefs me to hear you talk of marryin''e gal!"
"You grieve, as much as'you astonish me, Chainbearer,
by making such a remark! How often have you, yourself,
expressed to me the wish that I might become acquainted




THE CHAINBE ARER.                   335
with your niece, and love her, and marry her! Now, when
I have seen her-when I have become acquainted with her
— when I love her to my heart's core, and wish to make her
my wife, you meet my proposals as if they were unworthy
of you and yours!"
"Not so, lat-not so.  Nut'in' would make me so happy
as to see you t'e huspant of Dus, supposin' it coult come'to
pass, ant wrong pe tone to no one; put it cannot pe so. I
tid talk as you say, ant a foolish, selfish, conceitet olt man
I wast for my pains. I wast t'en in t'e army, ant we wast
captains alike; ant I wast t'e senior captain, and might
orter you apout, ant' tid orter you apout; ant I wore an
epaulette, like any ot'er captain, and hat my grantfat'er's
swort at my site, ant t'ought we wast equals, ant t'at it wast
an honour to marry my niece; put all t'is wast changet, lat,
when I came into t'e woots ag'in, ant took up my chain, ant
pegan to lif, ant to work, ant to feel poor, ant to see myself
as I am. No — no —Mortaunt Littlepage, t'e owner of
Ravensnest, ant t'e heir of Mooseritge, ant of Satanstoe, ant
of Lilacsbush, ant of all t'e fine houses, ant stores, ant farms
t'at are in York ant up ant town t'e country, is not a suitaple
match for Dus Malbone!"
" This is so extraordinary a notion for you to take up,
Chainbearer, and so totally opposed to all I have ever before
heard from you on the subject, that I must be permitted to
ask where you got it?"
"From Dus Malbone, herself-yes, from her own mout',
ant in her own pretty manner of speech."
" Has, then, the probability of my ever offering to your
niece been a subject of conversation between you?"
"T'at hast it-t'at hast it, ant time ant ag'in, too. Sit
town on t'at log of woot, ant listen to what I haf to say, ant
I will tell you t'e whole story. Susquesus, you neetn't go
off into t'at corner, like a gentleman as you pe; t'ough it is
only an Injin gentleman; for I haf no secrets from such a
frient as yourself.  Come pack, t'en, Injin, ant take your
olt place, close at my site, where you haf so often peen
whern t'e inemy wast chargin' us poltly in front."-Sureflint
quietly did as desired, while Chainbearer lurned towards me
and continued the discourse. -" You wilt see, Mortaunt,
poy, t'ese here are t'e fery facts ant trut' of t'e case. When




336           T HE C H AINBEARER.
I came first from camp, ant I wast full of the prile, ant
aut'ority, ant feelin's of a soltier, I pegan to talk to Dus
apout you, as, I hat peen accustomet to talk to you apout
Dus.  Ant I tolt her what a fine, bolt, hantsome, generous,
well-principlet young fellow  you wast,"-the reader will
overlook my repeating that to which the partiality of the
Chainbearer so readily gave utterance —" ant I tolt her of
your sarfice in t'e wars, ant of your wit, ant how you mate
us all laugh, t'ough we might pe marchin' into pattle, ant
what a fat'er you hat, ant what a grantfat'er, ant all t'at a
goot ant a warm frient ought to say of anot'er, when it wast
true, ant when it was tolt to a hantsome ant heart-whole
young woman t'at he wishet to fall in love wit' t'at fery
same frient. Well, I tolt t'is to Dus, not once, Mortaunt;
nor twice; put twenty times, you may depent on it."
"Which makes me the more curious to hear what Dus
could, or did say in reply."
"It's t'at reply, lat, t'at makes all t'e present tifficulty
petween us. For a long time Dus sait little or not'in'.
Sometimes she woult look saucy ant laugh-antyou know,
lat, t'e gal can do bot' of t'em t'ings as well as most young
women. Sometimes she woult pegin to sing a song, all
about fait'less young men, perhaps, ant proken-hearted virgins. Sometimes she woult look sorrowful, ant I coult fint
tears startin' in her eyes; ant t'en I pecome as soft and
feeple-hearted as a gal, myself, to see one who smiles so
easily mate to shet tears.".
"But, how did all this end?  What can possibly have
occurred, to cause this great change in your own wishes?"
"'Tis not so much my wishes t'at be changet, Mortaunt,
ast my opinion. If a poty coult haf t'ings Just as he wishet,
lat, Dus ant you shoult pe man and wife, so far as it tepentet
on me, pefore t'e week ist out. Put, we are not our own
masters, nor t'e masters of what ist to happen to our nephews and nieces, any more t'an we are masters of rvhat
ist to happen to ourselves. Put, I wilt tell you just how it
happenet. One tay, as I wast talking to t'e gal in t'e olt
way, she listenet to all I hat to say more seriously t'an ast
common, ant when she answeret, it wast much in t'is man.
ner:-' J t'ank you from t'e pottom of my heart, uncle
Chainp.arpr,' she sait,' not only for all t'at you haf tone for




THE CHAINBEAR ER.                    3-37
ne, t'e orphan da'ghter of your sister, put for all you wish
in my pehalf. I perceive t'at.t'is itee of' my marryin' your
young frient, Mr. Mortaunt Littlepage, hast a strong holt on
your feelin's, ant it ist time to talk seriously on t'at supject.
W hen you associatet with t'at young gentleman, uncle Chain.
pearer, you wast captain Coejemans, of t'e New York state
line, ant his senior officer, ant it wast nat'ral to s'pose your
niece fit to pecome his wife. Put it ist our tuty to look at
what we now are, ant are likely to remain..Major Littlepage hast a fa'ter ant a mot'er, I haf he'rt you say, uncle
Chainpearer, ant sisters, too; now marriage ist a most serious t'ing. It ist to last for life, ant no one shoult form sich
a connection wit'out reflectin' on all its pearin's. It ist
hartly possiple t'at people in t'e prosperity ant happiness of
t'ese Littlepages woult wish to see an only son, ant t'e heir
of t'eir name ant estates, takin' for a wife a gal out of t'e
woots; one t'at ist not only a chainpearer's niece, put who
hast peen a chainpearer herself, ant who can pring into t'eir
family no one t'ing to compensate'em for t'e sacrifice."
"And you had the heart to be quiet, Andries, and let
Uisula say all this!"
" Ah! lat, how coult I help it? You woult have tone it
yourself, Mortaunt, coult you haf he'rt how prettily she
turnet her periots, as I haf he'rt you call it,'ant how efery
syllaple she sait come from t'e heart.' T'en t'e face of t'e
gal wast enough to convince me t'at she wast right; she
looket so'arnest, ant sat, and peautiful, Mortaunt!  No,
no; when an itee comes into t'e mint, wit' t'e ait of sich
worts and looks, my poy,'tis not an easy matter to get rit
of it."
"You do not seriously mean to say, Chainbearer, that
vou will refuse me Dus?"
" Dus will do t'at herself, lat; for she ist still a chainpearer's niece, ant you are still general Littlepage's son ant
heir. Try her, ant see what she wilt say."
" But I have tried her, as you call it; have told her of
my love; have offered my hand, and   "
" Ant what?"
"Why she does not answer me as you say she answered
S]OU."




338           T HE CIAINE A R E R.
~' Hast t'e gal sait she woult haf you, Mortaunt?  Hast
she said yes?"
"Conditionally she has. If my grandmother cheerfully
consent, and my parents do the same; and my sister Kettletas and her husband, and my laughing, merry Kate, then
Dus will accept me."
" T'is ist strange! Ah! I see how it is; t'e gal has seen
you, ant peen much wit' you, ant talket wit' you, ant sung
wit' you, ant laughet wit' you; ant I do s'pose, a'ter all, t'at
will make a tifference in her judgment of you. I'm a pachelor, Mortaunt, ant haf no wife, nor any sweetheart, put it
ist easy enough to comprehent how all t'ese matters must
make a fery great tifference.  I'm glat, howsefer, t'at t'o
tifference is not so great as to make t'e gal forget all your
frients; for if efery poty consents, and ist cheerful, why
t'en my pein' a chainbearer, and Dus' pein' so poor ant forsaken like, will not pe so likely to pe rememperet hereafter,
and pring you pitter t'oughts."
"Andries Coejemans, I swear to you, I would rather
become your nephew at this moment, than become the son.
in-law of Washington himself, had he a daughter."
"T'at means you'd rat'er haf Dus, t'an any ot'er gal of
your acquaintance. T'at's nat'ral enough, and may make
me look like His Excellency, for a time, in your eyes; put
when you come to t'ink and feel more coolly, my tear poy,
t'ere ist t'e tanger t'at you wilt see some tifference petween
t'e captain-general and commanter-in-chief of all t'e American armies, ant a poor chainpearer, who in his pest tays
was nut'in' more t'an a captain in t'e New York'ine. I
know you lore me, Mordaunt; put t'ere ist tanger t'at it
might not pe exactly an uncle and nephew's lore in t'e long
run. I am only a poor Tutchman, when all is sait, wit'out
much etication, and wit' no money, and not much more
manners; while you've peen to college, and pe college
l'arn't, and pe as gay ant gallant a spark as can pe fount in
t'e States, as we call t'e olt colonies now. Wast you a
Yankee, Mortaunt, I'd see you marriet and unmarriet
twenty times, pefore I'd own as much as t'is; put a man
may pe sensiple of his ignorance, ant pat etication, ant
weaknesses, wit'out wishin' to pe tolt of it to his face, and
laughed at apout it, py efery A B C'scholar t'at comes out




THE CHAINBEARER.                    339
of New Englant.  No, no-I'm a poor Tutchman, I know;
and a potty may say as much to a frient, when he woult tie
pefore he woult own t'ere wast anyt'ing poor apout it to an
inimy."
" I would gladly pursue this discourse, Andries, and bring
it to a happy termination," I answered; " but here come the
squatters in a body, and I suppose some movement or pro.
posal from them is in the wind. We will defer tur matter,
then; you remembering that I agree to none of your opinions or decisions. Dus is to be mine, if indeed we can
protect her against the grasp of these wretches. I have
something to say on that subject, too; but this is not.the
moment to utter it."
Chainbearer seized my hand, and gave it a friendly
pressure, which terminated the discourse. On the subject
of the intentions of Thousandacres towards Dus, I was now
not altogether free from uneasiness; though the tumult
of rapturous feeling through which I had just passed,
drove it temporarily from my mind. I had no apprehen.
sions that Ursula Malbone would ever be induced, by ordi.
nary means, to become the wife of Zephaniah; but I trem.
bled as to what might be the influence of menaces against
her uncle and myself. Nor was I altogether easy on the
score of the carrying o4it of those menaces. It often hap.
pens with crime, as in the commission of ordinary sins, that
men are impelled by circumstances, which drive them to
deeds from which they would have recoiled in horror, had
the consummation been directly presented to the* minds,
without the intervention of any mediate causes. But the
crisis was evidently approaching, and I waited wig as much
calmness as I could assume for its development. As for
Chainbearer, being still ignorant of the conversation I had
overheard in the millphe had no apprehensions of evil from
the source of my greatest dread.
The day had advanced, all this time, and the sun had
set, and night was close upon us, as Tobit and his brethren
came to the door of our prison; and called upon Chainbearer
and myself to come forth, leaving Susquesus behind. We
obeyed with alacrity; for there was a species of liberty in
being outside of those logs, with my limbs unfettered, though
a vigilant watch was kept over us both. On each side of




:40           THE' CHAIN B-EARER.
me walked an armed man, and Chainbearer was honoured
with a similar guard. For all this, old Andries cared but
little. He knew and I knew that the time could not be very
distant when we might expect to hear from Frank Malbone;
and every minute that went by,added to our confidence in
this respect.
We were about half-way between the store-house and the
dwelling Of Thousandacres, towards which our steps were
directed, when Andries suddenly stopped, and asked leave
to say a word to me in private. Tobit was at a loss how
to take this request; but, there being an evident desire to
keep on reasonably good terms with Chainbearer, after a
short pause he consented to form an extended ring with his
brothers, leaving me and my old friend in its centre.
"I'11 tell you what I t'ink atvisaple in t'is matter," commenced Andries, in a sort of whisper.  "It cannot pe long
afore Malpone will be pack wit' t'e posse ant constaples, ant
so fort'; now, if we tell t'ese.rapscallions t'at we want taylight to meet our inimies in, ant t'at we haf no stomach for
nightwork, perhaps t'ey'll carry us pack to gaol, ant so gif
more time to Frank to get here."
" It will be much better, Chainbearer, to prolong our in.
terview with these squatters, so that you and I may be at
large, or at least not shut up in the/store-house, when Malbone makes his appearance. In the confusion we may even
escape and join our friends, which will be a thousand times
better than to be found within four walls."
Andries nodded his head, in sign of acquiescence, and
thenceforth he seemed to aim at drawing things out, in order to gag time, instead of bringing them to a speedy conclusion. As soon as our discourse was ended, the young
men closed round us again, and we moved on in a body.
Darkness being so close upon us,'lhousandacres had determined to hold his court, this time, within the house, having
a care to a sufficient watchfulness about the door. There is
little variation -in the internal distribution of the room of
what may be called an Arberican cottage.  About twothirds of the space is given to the principal apartment, which
contains the fire-place,* and is used for all the purposes of
*At the present day, the cooking stove has nearly superseded the
open fire-place.




THE CHAINBEARER.                    341
kitchen and sitting-room, while the rest of the building is
partitioned into three several subdivisions. One of these
subdivisions is commonly a small bed-room; another is the
buttery, and the third holds the stairs, or ladders, by which
to ascend to the loft, or to descend to the cellar. Such was
the arrangement of the dwelling of Thousandacres, and such
is the arrangement in thousands of other similar buildings
throughout the land. The thriving husbandman is seldom
long contented, however, with such narrow and humble accommodations; but the framed house, of two stories in
height, and with five windows in front, usually soon succeeds this cottage, in his case. It is rare, indeed, that any
American private edifice has more than five windows in
front, the few exceptions which do exist to the rule being
residences of mark, and the supernum.erary windows are
generally to be found in wings. Some of our old, solid,
substantial, stone country houses occasionally stretch them.
selves out to eight or nine apertures of this sort, but they
are rare. I cannot gossip here, however, about country
houses and windows, when I have matters so grave before
me to relate.
In the forest, and especially in the newer portions of New
York, the evenings are apt to be cool, even in the warm
months. That memorable night, I well remember, had a
sharpness about it that threatened even a frost, and Prudence had lighted a fire on the yawning hearth of her rude
chimney. By the cheerful blaze of that fire, which was
renewed from time to time by dried brush, the American
frontier substitute for the fagot, were the scenes I am about
to mention enacted.
We found all the males, and several of the females, assembled in the large apartment of the building I have described, when Chainbearer and myself entered. - The wife
of Tobit, with one or two of the sisterhood, howviever~: were
absent; doubtless in attendance on Dus. Lowiny, I remarked, stood quite near the fire, and the countenance of
the girl seemed to me to be saddened and thoughtful. I
trust I shall not be accused of being a coxcomb if I add,
that the idea crossed my mind, that the appearance and
manners of a youth, so much superior to those with whom
she was accustomed to associate, had made a slight impres
29*




342           THE CHA IN]BEARER.
sion on this girl's-I will not say heart, for imagination
would be the better word-and had awakened sympathies
that manifested themselves in her previous conduct; while
the shade that was now cast across her brow came quite as
much from the scene she had witnessed between myself and
Dus, near the rock, as from seeing me again a prisoner.
The friendship of this girl might still be of importance to
me, and still more so to Ursula, and I will acknowledge that
the apprehension of losing it was far from pleasant. I could
only wait for the developments of time, however, in order
to reach any certainty on this, as well as on other most interesting topics.
Thousandacres had the civility to order us chairs, and we
took our seats accordingly.  On looking round that grave
and attentive circle, I could trace no new signs-of hostility;
but, on.the contrary, the countenances of all seemed more
pacific than they were when we parted. I considered this
as an omen that I and my friend should receive some propositions that tended towards peace. In this I was not mis.
taken; the first words that were uttered having that character.
"It's time this matter atween us, Chainbearer," commenced Thousandacres, himself, "should be brought to
suthin' like an eend. It keeps the b'ys from their lumberin',
and upsets my whull family. I call myself a reasonable
man; and be as ready to settle a difficulty on as accommodatin' tarms as any parson you'11 find by lookin' up and
down the land.  Many is the difficulty that I've settled in
my day; and I'm not too old to settle'em now. Some.
times I've fit it out, when I've fell in with an obstinate
fellow; sometimes I've left it out to men; and sometimes
I've settled matters myself.  No man can say he ever
know'd me refuse to hearken to reason, or know'd me to
gi'n up a just cause, so long as there was a morsel of a
chance to defend it. When overpowered by numbers, and
look'd down by your accursed law, as you call it, I'11 own
that, once or twice in my time, when young and inexpe.
r'enced, I did get the worst of it; and so was obliged to sort
o' run away. But use makes parfect. I've seen so much,
by seventy odd, as to have l'arnt to take time by the forelock, and don't practyse delays in business. I look upon




TIlE  CHIAINBEARER.                  343
you, Chainbearer, as a man much like myself, reasonable,
exper'nc'd, and willin' to accommodate.' I see no great
difficulty, therefore, in settlin' this matter on the spot, so as to
have no more hard feelin's or hot words atween us. Sich
be my notions; and I should like to hear your'n."
"Since you speak to me, T'ousantacres, in so polite and
civil a manner, I'm reaty to hear you, ant to answer in t'e
satne temper," returned old Andries, his countenance losing
much of the determined and angry expression with which
he had taken his seat in the circle.  "T'ere ist nutin' t'at
more pecomes a man, t'an moteration; ant an olt man in
partic'lar. I do not t'ink, however, t'at t'ere ist much re.
semplance petween you ant me, T'ousantacres, in any one
t'ing, except it pe in olt age.  We're pot' of us pretty well
atvancet, ant haf reachet a time of life when it pehooves a
man to examine ant reflect on tCe great trut's t'at are to pe
fount in his piple. T'e piple ist a pook, Aaron, t'at ist not
enough re't in t'e woots; t'ough Almighty Got hast all t'e
same rights to t'e sarfices ant worship of his creatures in t'e
forest, as to t'e worship and sarfices of his creatures in t'e
settlements. I'm not a tellin' you t'is, T'ousantacres, py
way of showin' off my own l'arnin'; for all I know on the
supject, myself, I haf got from Dus, my niece, who ist as
goot, ant as willin', ant as hanty in explainin' sich matters,
as any tominie I ever talket wit'. I wish you woult listen
to her, yourself; you and Prutence; when I t'ink you
woult allow t'at her tiscourse ist fery etifyin' ant improfin'.
Now you seem in t'e right temper, ist.a goot, time to pe
penefitet in t'at way; for t'ey tell me my niece ist here, ant
at hant."
" She is; and I rej'ice that you have brought her name
illto the discourse so'arly; as it was my design to mention
it myself.  I see we think alike about the young woman,
Chainbearer, and trust and believe she'11 be the means of
reconciling all parties, and of making us good fri'nds. I've
sent for the gal; and she'll soon be coming along, with
Tobit's wife, who sets by her wonderfully already."
" Well, talkin' of wonterful t'ings, wonters wvilt never
tease, I do pelieve!" Chainbearer exclaimed, for he really
nelieved that the family of the squatter was taken suddenly
with a' religious turn,' and that something like a conver



344           THE  CHAINBEARER.
sion was about to occur. "Yes, yes; it ist so; we meet
wit' wOnters when we least expect'em; and t'at it is t'at
makes wonters so wonterful!"
CHAPTER XXV.
" Yet, Hastings, these are they
Who challenge to themselves thy country's love;
The true, the constant, who alone can weigh,
What glory should demand, or liberty approve!"
AKENelD.
A PAUSE succeeded this little opening, during which the
assembly was waiting for the arrival of Ursula Malbone,
and that semi-savage guardian that " set" so much by her,
as not to leave her out of sight for a moment. All that
time Thousandacres was ruminating on his own plans;
while old Andries was probably reflecting on the singular
circumstance that " wonters shoult pe so wonterful!"  At
length a little bustle and movement occurred near the door,
the crowd collected in it opened, and Dus walked into the
centre of the room, her colour heightened by excitement,
but her step firm, and. her air full of spirit.  At first, the
blazing light affected her sight, and she passed a hand over
her eyes. Then looking around I met her gaze, and was
rewarded for all my anxiety by one of those glances, into
which affection knows how to infuse so much that is meaning
and eloquent.  I was thus favoured for a moment only;
those eyes sti. turning' until they met the fond answering
look of Chainbearer. The old man had arisen, and he now
received his niece in his arms as a parent would embrace a
beloved child.
That outpouring of feeling lasted but a little while. It
had been unpremeditated and impulsive, and was almost as
suddenly suppressed. It gave me, however; the happiness
of witnessing one of the most pleasant sights that man can
behold;that of youth, and beauty, and delicacy,,and femaie




THE CHAIN B: Et AR  I.              345
tenderness, pouring out their feelings on the bosom of ageon the ruder qualities of one, hardened in person by the
exposures of a life passed in the forest. To me the contrast
between the fair, golden hair of Dus, and the few straggling,
bleached *cks of her uncle; the downy, peach-like cheek
of the girl, and the red, wrinkled, and sun-dried countenance
of Chainbearer, was perfectly delightful. It said how deep
must lie those'sympathies of our nature, which could bring
together so closely two so differently constituted in all things,
and set at defiance the apparent tendencies of taste and
habit.'Dus suffered herself to be thus carried away by her feolings for only a moment. Accustomed in a degree, as she
certainly was, to the rough associations of the woods, this
was the first time she had ever been confronted with such
an assembly, and I could see that she drew back into herself.with womanly reserve, as she now gazed around her,
and saw in what a wild and unwonted presence she stood.
Still, 1 had never seen her look so supremely lovely as she
did that evening, for she threw Pris. Bayard and Kate, with
all their advantages of dress, and freedom from exposure,
far into the shade. Perhaps the life of Ursula Malbone had
given to her beauty the very completeness and fulness, that
are most apt to be wanting to the young American girl, who
has been educated in the over-tender and delicate manner
of our ordinary parental indulgence.  Of air and exercise
she had already enjoyed enough, and they had imparted to
her bloom and person, the richness and development that are
oftener found in the subordinate than in the superior classes
of the country.
As for Thousandacres, though he watched every move.
ment of Ursula Malbone with jealous interest, he said nothing to interrupt the current of her feelings.  As soon as
she left her uncle's arms, however, Dus drew back and took
the rude seat that I had placed for her close at Chainbearer's
side.  I was paid for this little act of attention, by a sweet
smile from its subject, and a lowering look from the old
squatter, that admonished me of the necessity of being
cautious of manifesting too much of the interest I felt in the
beloved object before me. As is usual in assemblages composed of the rude and unpractised, a long, awkward pause




346           THE  CHAINBEA R E R.
succeeded this introduction of Dus to our presence. After
a time, however, Aaron resumed the subject in hand.
"We've met to settle all our difficulties, as I was sayin',"
observed Thousandacres, in a manner as deliberative and'considerate as if he were engaged in one of the nwst blame.
less pursuits of life, the outward appearances of virtue and
vice possessing a surprising resemblance to each other-.
"When men get together on sich a purpose, and in a righi
spirit, it must be. that there's a fault somewhere, if what's
right can't be come at atween'em.  What's right atwixt
man and man is my creed, Chainbearer."
"What's right petween man ant man is a goot creet,
T'ousantacres; ant it's a goot religion, too," answered Andries, coldly.
"' That it is!-that it is! and I now see that you're in a
reasonable temper, Chainbearer, and that there's a prospect
of business in you.  I despise a man that's so set in his
notions that there's no gettin' him to give in an inch in a
transaction-don't you hold to that too, captain Andries?"
" T'at tepents on what t'e notions pe.  Some notions do
nopoty any goot, ant t'e sooner we're rit of'em t'e petter.
while some notions pe so fery excellent t'at a man hat pest
lay town his life as lay t'em town."
This answer -puzzled Thousandacres, who had no idea of
a man's ever dying for opinion's sake; and who was pro.
bably anxious, just at that moment, to find his companion
sufficiently indifferent to principle, to make some sacrifices
to expediency. It was quite evident this man was disposed
to practise a ruse on this occasion, that is often resorted to
by individuals, and sometimes by States, when disposed to
gain a great advantage out of a very small right; that of
demanding much more than they expect to receive, and of
making a great merit of yielding points that they never had
the smallest claim to maintain.  But, this disposition of the
squatter's will make itself sufficiently apparent as we pro.
ceed.
"I don't see any use in talkin' about layin' down lives,"
Thousandacres returned to Chainbearer's remark, "seein'
this is not a life and death transaction at all. The most that
can be made of squattin', give tile law; its full swing, is trespass and damages, and them an't matters to frighten a man




TIHE  CHAINBEARER.'                  347
that has stood out ag'in'em all his days. We're pretty
much sich crittur's as sarcumstances make us.  There be
men, I don't question, that a body can skear half out of
their wits with a writ, while a whull flock of sheep, skins
and wool united, wunt intimidate them  that's use to sich
things. I go on the principle of doin' what's right, let the
law say what it will of the matter; and this is the principle
on which I wish to settle our present difficulty."
"Name your tarms - name your tarms!" cried Chain.
bearer, a little impatiently; " talkin' ist talkin', all t'e worlt
ofer, ant actin' ist actin'. If you haf anyt'ing to propose,
here we are reaty ant willin' to hear it."
" That's hearty, and just my way of thinkin' and feelin',
and I'11 act up to it, though it was the gospel of St. Paul
himself, and I was set on followin' it. Here, then, is the
case, and any man can understand it. There's two rights
to all the land on'arth, andthe whull world over. One of
these rights is what I call a king's right, or that which depends on writin's, and laws,'and sich like contrivances; and
the other depends on possession.  It stands to reason, that
fact is better than any writin' about it can be; but I'm
willin' to put'em on a footin' for the time bein', and for the
sake of accommodatin'. I go all for accommodatin' matters,
and not for stirrin' up ill blood; and that I tell Chainbearer,
b'ys, is the right spirit to presarve harmony and fri'ndship!"
This appeal was rewarded by a murmur of general approbation in all that part of the audience which might be
supposed to be in the squatter interest, while the part that
might be called adverse, remained silent, though strictly attentive, old Andries included.
" Yes, that's my principles" -resumed Thousandacres,
taking a hearty draught of cider,- a liquor of which he had
provided an ample allowance, passing the' mug civilly to
Chainbearer, as soon as he had had his swallow -" Yes,
that's my principles, and good principles they be, for them
that likes peace and.harmony, as all must allow. Now, in
this matter afore us, general Littlepage and his partner'ipresents writin's, and I and mine ripresent fact. I don't
say which is the best, for I don't want to be hard on any
man's rights, and'specially when the accommodatin' spirit
is up and doin'; but I'm fact, and the gin'ral's pretty much




348           THE    A I N BEARER.
writin's.  But, difficulties has sprung up atwixt us, and it's
high time to put'em down. I look upon you, Chainbearer
as the fri'nd of the t'other owners of this sile, and I'm now
ready to make proposals, or to hear them, just as it may
prove convenient."
" I haf no proposals to make, nor any aut'ority to offer
t'em.  I'm  nut'in here, put a chainpearer, wit' a contract
to survey t'e patent into small lots, ant t'en my tuty ist tone.
Put, here ist General Littlepage's only son, ant he ist em.
poweret, I unterstant, to do all t'at ist necessary on t'ia
tract, as t'e attorney-"
"He is and he isn't an attorney!" interrupted Thousand
acres, a little fiercely for one in whom' the accommodatin
spirit was up.' At one moment he says he's an attorney
and at the next he isn't. I can't stand this onsartainty any
very great while."
"Pooh, pooh! T'ousantacrfs," returned Chainbearer,
coolly, "you're frightenet at your own shatow; ant t'at
comes, let me telt you, from  not lifing in'peace ant harmony,' as you call it, youself, wit' t'e law.. A man hast a
conscience, whet'er he pe a skinner or a cow-boy, or efen a
squatter; ant he hast it, pecause Got hast gifen it to him,
ant not on account of any sarfices of his own. T'at conscience it is, t'at makes my young frient Mortaunt, here, an
attorney in your eyes, when he ist no more of a lawyer t'an
you pe yourself."
" Why has he called himself an attorney, then, and why
do you call him one.. An attorney is an attorney, in my
eyes, and little difference is there atween'em. Rattlesnakes
would fare better in a clearin' of Thousandacres', than the
smartest attorney in the land!"
c" Well, well, haf your own feelin's; for I s'pose Satan
has put'em into-you, ant talkin' won't pring t'em out. T'is
young gentleman, however, ist no attorney of t'e sort you
mean, olt squatter, put he hast peen a soltier, like myself,
ant in my own regiment, which wast his fat'ers, ant a prave
young man he ist ant wast, ant one t'at hast fou't gallantly
for liperty-"
"If he's a fri'nd of liberty, he should be a fri'nd of
liberty's people; should give liberty and take liberty.
Now,.1 call it liberty to let every man have as much- land




THE  CHAINBEARER.                        349
as he has need on, and no more, keepin' the rest for them
that's in the same sitiation.  If he and his father be true
fri'nds of liberty, let'em prove it like men, by giving up all
claims to any more land than they want. That's what I
call liberty! Let every man have as much land as he's
need on; that's my religion, and it's liberty, too."*
"Why are you so moterate, T'ousantacres? why are you
so unreasonaply moterate?  Why not say t'at efery ma-i
hast a right to eferyt'ing he hast need of, ant so make him
comfortaple at once! T'ere is no wistom in toin' t'ings by
hafs, ant it ist always petter to surrey all t'e lant you want
while t'e compass is set ant t'e chains pe goin'.  It's just as
much liperty to haf a right to share in a man's tollars, as to
share in his lants."
" I don't go as far as that, Chainbearer,".put in Thou.
andacres, with a degree of moderation that ought to put the
enemies of his principles to the blush.  "Money is what a
man'arns himself, and he has a right to it, and so I sav let
him keep it; but land is necessary, and every man has a
right to as much as he has need on-I wouldn't give hih an
acre more, on no account at all."
"Put money wilt puy lant; ant, in sharin' t'e tollars, you
share t'e means of puyin' as much lant as a man hast neet
* I am a little apprehensive that the profound politiial philosophers
who have sprung up among us within a few years, including some
in high places, and who virtually maintain that the American is so
ineffably free, that it is opposed to the spirit of the institutions of the
country, to suffer him to be either landlord or tenant, however much
he may desire it himself (and no one pretends that either law or facts
compel him to be either, contrary to his own wishes), will feel mortifiedl at discovering that they have not the merit of first proposing
their own exquisite theory; Aaron Thousandacres having certainly
preceded them by sixty years. There is no great secret on the sub.
ject of the principle which lies at the bottom of this favourite doctrine, the Deity himself having delivered to man, as far back as the
days of Moses, the tenth commandment, with the obvious design of
controlling, it. An altempt to prove that the institutions of this
country are unsuited t) the relations of landlord and tenant, is an
attempt to prove that they are unsuited to meet the various contirigencies of human affairs, and is an abandonment of their defence,
as that defence can only be made on broad, manly, and justifiable
grounds. As a political principle, it is just as true that the relations
of debtor and creditor are unsuited to the institutions, and ought to
be abolished.-EDIToR.
30




350           T 1E CHAINBEAREItR.
of; t'en t'ere ist a great teal more lant ast money in *'is
country, ant, in gifin' a man lant, you only gif him t'at
which ist so cheap ant common, t'at he must pe a poor tefil
if he can't get all t'e lant he wants wit'out much trouple and
any squattin', if you wilt only gif him ever so little money.
No, no, T'ousantacres- you're fery wrong; you shoult
pegin to tivite wit' t'e tollars, ant t'at wilt not tisturp society,
as tollars are in t'e pocket, ant go ant come efery day;
whereast lant is a fixture, ant some people lofe t'eir own
hills, ant rocks, ant trees-when t'ey haf peen long in a
family most especially."
There was a dark scowl gathering on the brow of Thou.
sandacres, partly because he felt himself puzzled by the
upright and straight. forward common sense of Chainbearer,
and partly for a reason that he himself made manifest in the
answer that he quite promptly gave to my old friend's
remarks.
"No man need say anything ag'in squattin' that wants
to keep fri'nds with me," Thousandacres put in, with certain-twitchings about the muscles of the mouth, that were
so many signs of his being in earnest.  "I hold to liberty
and a man's rights, and that is no reason I should be de.
flected on.  My notions be other men's notions, I know,
though they be called squatters' notions.  Congressmen
have held'em, and will hold'em ag'in, if they expect much
support, in some parts of the country, at election time. I
dare say the day will come, when governors will be found
to hold'em.* Governors be but men a'ter all, and must
hold doctrines that satisfy men's wants, or they won't be
governors long. But all this is nuthin' but talk, and I want
to come to suthin' like business, Chainbearer.  Here's this
clearin', and here's the lumber.  Now, I'm willin' to settle
on some sich tarms as these: I'11 keep the lumber, carryin'
it off as soon as the water gets to be high enough, agreein'
to pay for the privilege by not fellin' another tree, though I
must have the right to saw up sich logs as be cut and hauled
already; and then, as to the land and clearin', if the writin'
owners want'em, they can have'em by payin' for the better.
ments, leavin' the price out to men in this neighbourhood,
*Thousandacres speaks here like a veritable prophet.-EDITOR.




TIE CHAINBEARER.                     351
sin' city-bred folks can't know nothin' of the toil and labour
of choppin', and loggin', and ashin', ant gettin' in, and crop.
pin' new lands."
" Mortaunt, t'at proposal ist for you. I haf nut'in' to do
wit' t'e clearin' put to surfey it; and t'at much will I per.
form, when I get as far ast t'e place, come t'ere goot, or
come t'ere efil of it."
"Survey this clearin'!" put in Tobit, with his raven
throat, and certainly in a somewhat menacing tone.  "No,
no, Chailbearer-the man is not out in the woods, that
could ever get his chain across this clearin'."
" T'at man, I tell you, is Andries Coejemans, commonly
called Chainpearer," answered my old friend, calmly. " No
clearin', ant no squatter, ever stoppet him yet, nor do 1
t'ink he will pe stoppet here, from performin' his tuty. Put
praggin''is a pat quality, ant we'll leaf time to show t'e
trut'."
Thousandacres gave a loud hem, and looked very dark,
though he said nothing until time had been given to his
blood to resume its customary current. Then he pursued
the discourse as follows-evidently bent on keeping on good
terms with Chainbearer as long as possible.
"On the whull," he said, " I rather think, Tobit,'t will
be best if you leave this matter altogether to me. Years
cool ihe blood, and allow time to reason to spread. Years
be as necessary to judgment as a top to a fruit-tree. I kind
o' b'lieve that Chainbearer and I, being both elderly and
considerate men, will be apt to get along best together.  I
dare say, Chainbearer, that if the surveyin' of this clearin'
be put to you on the footin' of defiance, that your back
would getu-p, like any body else's, arid you'd bring on the
chain, let who might stand in your way. But, that's neither
here nor there. You're welcome to chain out just as much
of this part of the patent as you see fit, and't will help ups
along so much the better when we come to the trade. Reason's reason; and I'm of an accommodatin' spirit."
"So much t'e petter, T'ousantacres; yes, so much t'e
petter," answered old Andries, somewhat mollified by the
conciliatory temper in which the squatter now delivered him.
self.  "When work ist to pe performet, it mmust be per.
formet; ant, as I'm hiret to surfey ana chain t'e whole




352          THE CHAINBEARER.
estate, t'e whole estate must pe. chainet ant surfeyet. Wel4i
what else haf you to say?'I'm not answered as to my first offer.  I'1 take the
lumber, agreein' not to cut another tree, and the valie of the
betterments can be left out to men."
" I am the proper person to answer this proposal,"' I
thought it now right to.say, lest Andries and Thousandacres
should get to loggerheads again on some minor and immaterial point, and thus endanger every hope of keeping the
peace until Malbone cou.ld arrive.  "At the same time, I
consider it no more than right to tell you, at once, that I
have no power that goes so far as to authorize me to agree
to your terms. Both colonel Follock and my father have a
stern sense of justice, and neither, in my opinion, will feel
much of a disposition to yield to any conditions that, in the
least, may have the appearance of compromising any of
their rights as landlords.  I have heard them both say that,
in these particulars,'yielding an inch would be giving an
ell,' and I confess that, from all I have seen lately of settlers
and settlements, I'm very much of the same way of thinking. My principals may concede something, but they'll
never treat on a subject of which all the right is on their
own side."
"Am I to understand you, young man, that you're onaccommodatin', and that my offers isn't to be listened to, in
the spirit in which they're made?" demanded Thousand.
acres, somewhat drily.
a: You are to understand me as meaning exactly what I
say, sir. In the first place, I have no authority to accept
your offers, and shall not assume any, let the consequences
to myself be what they may. Indeed, any promises made
in duresse are good for nothing."
"Anan!" cried the squatter.  " This is Mooseridge
Patent, and Washington, late Charlotte County-and this
is "the place we are to sign and seal in, if writin's pass
atween us."
" By promises made in duresse, I mean promises made
while the party malting them is in confinement, or not
absolutely free to make them, or not; such promises are
good for nothing in law, even though all the'writings' that
could be drawn passed between the parties.'




THE  C H A I N B E A R E.          353
"This is strange doctrine, and says but little for your
boasted law,'then!. "At one time, it asks for writin's, and
nothin' but writin's will-answer; and, then, qll the writin's
on'arth be of no account! Yet-some folks complain, and
have hard feelin's, if a man wunt live altogether up to
law!"
" I rather think, Thousandacres, you overlook the objects
of the law, in its naked regulations. Law is to enforce the
right, and were it to follow naked rules, without regard to
principles, it might become the instrument of effecting the
very mischiefs it is designed to counteract."
I might have spared myself the trouble of uttering this
fine speech; which caused the old squatter to stare at me in
-wonder, and produced a smile among the young men, and a
titter among the females. I observed, however, that the
anxious face of' Lowiny expressed admiration, rather than
the feeling that was so prevalent among the sisterhood.
" There's no use in talkin' to this young spark, Chain.
bearer," Thousandacres said, a little impatiently in the way
of manner, too; " he's passed his days in the open country, and has got open-country ways, and notions, and talk;
and them's things I don't pretend to understand. -You're
woods, mainly; he's open country; and I'm clearin'.
There's a difference atween each; but woods and clearin'
come clussest; and so I'11 say my say to you. Be you,
now, r'ally disposed to accommodate, or not, old Andries?"
"Anyt'ing t'at ist right, ant just, ant reasonaple, T'ou.
santacres; ant nut'in' t'at ist not."
"That's just my way of thinkin'! If the law, now,
would do as much' as that for a man, the'attorneys would
soon starve. Wa-a-l, we'11 try now to come to tarms, as soon
as possible. You're a single man, I know, Chainbearer;
but I've always supposed't was on account of no dislike to
the married state; but because you didn't chance to light on
the right gal; or maybe on account of the surveyin' principle, which keeps a man pretty much movin' about from
tract to tract; though not much more than squattin' doos,
neither, if the matter was inquired into."
I understood the object of this sudden change from fee.
simples, and possessions, and the' accommodatin' spirit,' to
matrimony; but Chainbearer did not.  He only looked his
30*




354           THE  CI A INBEARER.
surprise; while, as to myself, if I looked at all as I felt, 1
must have been the picture of uneasiness.  The. beloved,
unconscious Dus, sat there in her maiden beauty, interested
and anxious in her mind; beyond all question, but totally
ignorant of the terrible blow that was meditated- against
herself. As Andries looked his desire to hear more, instead
of answering the strange remark he had just heard, Thou.
sandacres proceeded" It's quite nat'ral to think of matrimony afore so many
young folks, isn't it, Chainbearer?" added the squatter,
chuckling at his own conceits.  "Here's lots of b'ys and
gals about me; and I'm just as accommodatin' in findin
husbands or wives for my fri'nds and neighbours, as I am
in settlin' all other difficulties. Anything for peace and a.
good neighbourhood is my religion!"
Old Andries passed a hand over his eyes, in the way one
is apt to do when he wishes to aid a mental effort by exter
nal application. It was evident he was puzzled to find out
what the squatter would be at, though he soon put a question
that brought about something like an explanation.
"I ton't unterstant you, T'ousantacres;-no, I ton't un.
derstant you. Is, it your tesire to gif me one of your puxom
ant fine-lookin' gals, here, for a wife?"
The squatter laughed heartily at this notion, the young
men joining in the mirth; while the constant titter that the
females had kept up ever since the subject of matrimony
was introduced, was greatly augmented in zest. An indif.
ferent spectator would have supposed that the utmost good
feeling prevailed among us.
" With all my heart, Chainbearer, if you can persuade
any of the gals to have you!" cried Thousandacres, with
the most apparent acquiescence.  " With such a son-in-law,
I don't know but I should take to the chain, a'ter all, and
measure out my clearin's as well as the grandee farmers,
who take pride in knowin' where their lines be. There's
Lowiny, she's got no spark, and might suit you well enough,
if she'd only think so."
" Lowiny don't think any sich thing; and isn't likely to
think any sich thing," answered the girl, in a quick, irri.
ated manner.
"Wa-a-I.l, I do s'pose, a'ter all, Chainbearer," Thousand




THE CH AINBEARER.                  350
acres resumed, "we'll get no weddin' out of you. Three,
score and ten is somewhat late for takin' a first wile; though
I've known widowers marry ag'in when hard on upon
ninety.  When a man has taken one wife in'arly life, he
has a kind o' right to another in old age."
"Yes-yes-or a hundred either," put in Prudence, with
spirit. "Give'em a chance only, and they'll find wives
as long as they can find breath to ask women to have'em!
Gals, you may make up.your minds to that-no man will
mourn long for any on you, a'ter you're once dead and
buried."
I should think this little sally must have been somewhat
common, as neither the " b'ys" nor the." gals" appeared to
give it much attention. These matrimonial insinuations
occur frequently in the world, and Prudence was not the
first woman, by a million, who had ventured to make them.
" I will own I was not so much thinkin' of providin' a
wife for you, Chainbearer, as I was thinkin' of providin' one
for a son of mine," continued Thousandacres.  "Here's
Zephaniah, now, is as active and hard-workin', upright, honest and obedient a young man as can be found in this
country. He's of suitable age, and begins to think of a
wife. I tell him to marry, by all means, for it's the blessedest condition of life, is the married state, that man ever
entered into. You wouldn't think it, perhaps, on lookin' at
old Prudence, there, and beholdin' what she now is; but I
speak from exper'ence in recommendin' matrimony; and I
wouldn't, on no account, say what I didn't really think in
the matter. A little matrimony might settle all our diffi.
culties, Chainbearer."
" You surely do not expect me to marry your son Zepaniah, I must s'pose, T'ousantacres!" answered Andries, innocently.
The laugh, this time, was neither as loud nor as general
as before, intense expectation rendering the auditors grave.
" No, no; " I'11 excuse you from that, of a sartajnty, old
Andries; though you may have Lowiny, if you can only
prevail on the gal. But, speakin' of Zephaniah, I can r'ally
ricommend the young man; a thing I'd never do if he didn't
desarve it, though he is my son. No one can say that I'm
in the habit of ever ricommendin' my own things, eve a to




356           THE  CHAINBMRERo.
the boards. The lumber of Thousandacres is as well known
in all the -markets below, they tell me, as the flour of any
miller in the highest credit.  It's just so with the b'ys, better lads is not to be met with; and I can ricommend Zepha.
niah with just as much confidence as I could ricommend
any lot of boards I ever rafted."
" And what haf I to do wit' all t'is?" asked Chainbearr,
gravely.
" Why, the matter is here, Chainbearer, if you'11 only
look a little into it. There's difficulty atween us, and pretty
serious difficulty, too. In me the accommodatin' spirit is
up, as I've said afore, and am willin' to say ag'in.  Now,
I've my son Zeph, here, as I've said, and he's lookin'
about for a wife; and you've a niece here-Dus Malbone,
I s'pose is her name-and they'd just suit each other.  It
seems they're acquainted somewhat, and have kept company some time already, and that'll make things smooth.
Now, what I offer is just this, and no more; not a bit of it.
I offer to send off for a magistrate, and I't do't at my own
expense; it shan't cost you a farthin'; and, as soon as the
magistrate comes, we'll have the young folks married on
the spot, and that will make etarnal peace for ever, as you
must suppose, atween you and me. Wa-a-1, peace made
atween us,'twill leave but little to accommodate with the
writin' owners of the sile, seein' that you're on tarms with'em all, that a body may set you down all as one as bein' of
the same family, like. If gin'ral Littlepage makes a p'int of
any thing of. the sort, I'11 engage no one of my family, in
all futur' time, shall ever squat on any lands he may happen to lay claim to, whether he owns'em or not."
I saw quite plainly that, at first, Chainbearer did noffully
comprehend the nature of the squatter's proposal. Neither
did Dus, herself; though somewhat prepared for such a
thing by her knowledge of Zephaniah's extravagant wishes
on the subject.' But, when Thousandacres spoke plainly of
sending for a magistrate, and of having the " young folks
married on the spot," it was not easy to mistake his mean.
ing, and astonishment was soon succeeded by offended pride,
in the breast of old Andries, and that to a degree and in a
manner I had never before witnessed in him. Perhaps I
ought, in justice to my excellent Cfriend, to add, that his high




THE CHA1NBiEARER.                   357
principles and keen, sense of right, were quite as much
wounded by the strange proposal as his personal feelings.
It was some time before he could or would speak; when he
did, it was with a dignity and severity of manner which I
really had no idea he could assume. The thought of Ursula
Malbone's being sacrificed to such a being as Zephaniah,
and such a family as the squatter's, shocked all his sensibilities, and appeared, for a moment, to overcome him. On the
other hand, nothing was plainer than that the breed of Thousandacres saw no such violation of the proprieties in their
scheme. The vulgar, almost invariably, in this country,
reduce the standard of distinction to mere money; and, in
this respect they saw, or fancied they saw, that Dus was
not much better off'than they were themselves. All those
points which depended on taste, refinement, education, habits
and principles, were Hebrew to them; and, quite as a matter of course, they took no account of qualities they could
neither see nor comprehend. It is not surprising, therefore,
that they could imagine the young squatter might make a
suitable husband to one who was known to have carried
chain in the forest.
" I pelieve I do pegin to unterstant you, T'ousantacres,"
said the Chainbearer, rising from his chair, and moving to
the side of his niece, as if instinctively to protect her;
"C t'ough it ist not a fery easy t'ing to comprehent such a
proposal. You wish Ursula Malpone to pecome te wife of
Zephaniah T'ousantacres, ant t'ereupon you wish to patch
up a peace wit' General Littlepage and Colonel Follock, ant
optain an intemnity for all t'e wrong apt roppery you haf
done'em -"'Harkee, old Chainbearer; you'd best be kearful of
your language-"
"Hear what t'at language ist to pe, pefore you interrupt
me, T'ousantacres. A wise man listens pefore he answers,
Alt'ough I haf nefer peen marriet, myself, I know what ist,tecent in pehaviour, ant, t'erefore, I wilt t'ank you for t'e
wish of pein' connectet wit' t'e Coejemans ant t'e Malpones.
T'at tuty tone, I wish to say t'at my niece wilt not haf your
toy —"
" You haven't given the gal a chance to speak for her.
self," cried Thousandacres, at the top of his voice, for he




358           THE      A i NB EAit E R.
began to be agitated now with a fiury that found a little vent
in that manner.  "You haven't given. the gal a chance to
answer for herself, old Andries. Zeph is a lad that she
may go farther and fare worse, afore she'll meet his equal,
I can tell you, though perhaps, bein' the b'y's own father, I
shouldn't say it-but, in the way of accommodatin', I'm
willin' to overlook a great deal."
"Zephaniah's an excellent son," put in Prudence, in the
pride and feeling of a mother, nature having its triumph in
her breast as well as in that of the most cultivated woman
of the land.  " Of all my sons, Zephaniah is the best; and
1 account him fit to marry with any who don't live in the
open country, and with many that do."
" Praise your goots, ant extol your poy, if you see fit,'
answered Chainbearer, with a calmness that I knew bespoke
some desperate resolution.  "Praise your goots, ant extol
your poy;. I'1I not teny your right to do as much of t'at as
you wish; put t'is gal wast left me py an only sister on her
tyin' pet, ant may Got forget me, when I forget the tuty I
owe to her. She shalt nefer marry a son of T'ousantacres
-she shalt nefer marry a squatter-she shalt nefer marry
any man tCat ist not of a class, ant feelin's, ant hapits, ant
opinions, fit to pe t'e huspant of a laty!"
A shout of derision, in which was blended the fierce
resentment of mortified pride, a'ose among that rude crew,
but the thundering voice of Thousandacres made itself
audible, even amid the hellish din.
"Beware, Chainbearer; beware how you aggravate us;.
natur' cant and won't bear every thing."
"I want nut'in' of you, or yours, T'ousantacres," calmly
returned the old man, passing his arm around the waist of
Dus, who clung to him, with a cheek that was flushed to
fire, but an eye that was not accustomed to quail, and who
seemed, at that fearful moment, every way ready and able
to second her uncle's efforts.  "You're nut'in' to me, ant
I'11 leaf you here, in your misteets ant wicket t'ought's.
Stant asite, I orter you.  Do not tare to stop t'e brot'er who
is apout to safe his sister's da'ghter from pecomin' a squat
ter's wife. Stant asite, for I'11 stay wit' you no longer.
An hour or two hence, miseraple Aaron, you'll see t'e
folly of all t'is, ant wish you hat livet an honest man."




THE CHAINBEA I:ER.                   359
By this time the clamour of voices became so loud and
confused,,as to render it impossible to distinguish what was
said..Thousandacres actually roared like a maddened bull,
and he was soon hoarse with uttering his menaces and maledictions.  Tobit said less, but was probably more dangerous.
All the young men seemed violently agitated, and bent on
closing the door on the exit of the Chainbearer; who,.with
his arm around Dus, still slowly advanced, waving the
crowd aside, and commanding them to make way for him,
with a steadiness and dignity that I began to think would
really prevail. In the midst of this scene of confusion, a
rifle suddenly flashed; the report was simultaneous, and old
Andries Coejemans fell.
CHAPTER XXVI.
"Ye midnight shades, o'er nature spread!
Dumb silence of the dreary hour!
In honour of th' approaching dead,
Around your awful terrors pour.
Yes, pour around,
On this pale ground,
Through all this deep surrounding gloom,
The sober thought,
The tear untaught,
Those meetest mourners at a tomb."
MALLET.
IT is a law of human nature, that the excesses of passion
bring their own rebukes. The violence of man feeds itself
until some enormity committed under its influence suddenly
rises before the transgressor, as the evidence of his blind.
ness and the restorer of his sensos.  Guilt performs the.
office of reason, staying the hand, stilling the pulses, and
arousing the conscience.
Thus it seemed to be with the squatters of Mooseridge.
A stillness so'rofound succeeded the crack of that rifle,
that I heard the'stifled breathing of Dus, as she stood over
the body of her uncle, astounded, and almost converted into
a statue by the suddenness of the blow. No one spoke; no




3(0           T HE  CHAINBEARER.
one attempted to quit the place; in fact, no one moved. Ix
was never known who fired' that shot. At first I ascribed it
to the hand of Tobit'; but it was owing more to what I knew
of his temper and character, than to what I knew of his
acts at that particular time.  Afterwards, I inclined to the
opinion that my friend had fallen by the hand of Thousandacres himself; though there were no means of bringing it
home to him by legal proof. If any knew who was the
criminal, besides the wretch Who executed the deed, the fact
was never rev,-Ied.  That family was faithful to itself, and
seemed dete;rined to stand or fall together. In the eye of
the law, all who were present, aiding and abetting in the
unlawful detention of.Dus and her uncle, were equally
guilty; but the hand on which the stain of blood rested in
particular, was never dragged to light.
My first impulse, as soon as I could recollect myself, was
to pass an arm around the waist of Dus and force her
through the crowd, with a view to escape. Had this attempt
been persevered in, I think-it ivould have succeeded, so pro.
found was the sensation made, even upon those rude and
lawless men, by the deed of violence that had just been
done. But Dus was not one to think of self. at such a
moment. For a single instant her head fell on my shoulders,
and I held her to my bosom, while I whispered my wish for
her to fly. Then raising her head, she gently extricated
her person from  my arms, and knelt by the side of her
uncle.
"He breathes!" she said huskily, but hastily.  "God be
praised, Mordaunt, he still breathes. The blow may not be
as heavy as we at first supposed; let us do what we can to
aid him."
Here were the characteristic decision and thoughtfulness
of Ursula Malbone!  Rising quickly, she turned to the
group of silent but observant squatters, and appealed to any
remains of humanity that might still be found in their
bosoms, to lend their assistance. Thousandacres stood foremost in the dark cluster at the door, looking grimly at the
motionless body, over which Dus stood, pale and heart.
stricken, but still calm and collected.
"The hardest-hearted man among you will not deny a
daughter's right to administer to a parent's wants!" she




THE   H A I N  E A R E R.            361
said, with a pathos in her voice, and a dignity in her manner,
that filled me with love and admiration, and which had a
visible effect on all who heard ner.  "Help me to raise my
uncle and to place him on a bed, while Major Littlepage
examines his hurt. You'll not deny me this little comfort,
Thousandacres, for you cannot know how soon you may
want succour yourself!"
Zephaniah, who certainly had no hand in the murderof
Chainbearer, now advanced; and he, myself, Lowiny and
Ous, raised the still motionless body; and placed it on the
bed of Prudence, which stood in the principal room. There
was a consultation among the squatters, while we were thus
employed, and one by one the family dropped off, until no
one was left in the house but Thousandacres, and his wife,
and Lowiny; the latter remaining with Dus, as a useful and
even an affectionate assistant. The father sate, in moody
silence, on one side of the fire, while Prudence placed herself on the other. I did not like the aspect of the squatter's
countenance, but he said and did nothing. It struck me that
he was brooding over the facts, nursing his resentments by
calling up fancied wrongs to his mind, and plotting for the
future. If such was the case, he manifested great nerve,
inasmuch as neither alarm nor hurry was, in the slightest
degree, apparent in his mien. Prudence was dreadfully
agitated.  She said nothing, but her body worked to and fro
with nervous excitement; and occasionally a heavy, but
suppressed groan struggled through her efforts to resist it.
Ot'ierwise, she was as if not present.
I had been accustomed to seeing gun-shot wounds, and
possessed such a general knowledge of their effects as to
be a tolerable judge of what would, and what would not, be
likely to prove fatal. The first look I took at the hurt of
Chainbearer convinced me there could be no hope for his
life.. The ball had passed between two of the' ribs; and
seemed to me to take a direction downwards; but it was
impossible to miss the vitals with a wound commencing at
that point on the human body. The first shock of the injury
had produced insensibility; but we had hardly got the sufferer on the bed, and applied a little water to his lips, ere he
revived; soon regaining his consciousness, as well as the
power to speak. Death was on him, however; and it was
31




362           THE   HA INBEARER.
very obvious to me that his hours were numbered. He
might live days, but it was not possible for him to sur.
vive.
"Got pless you, Mortaunt," my old friend murmured,
after my efforts had thus partially succeeded. "" Got for
ever ples8 ant preserf you, poy, ant repay you for all your
kintness to me ant mine.  T'em squatters haf killet me, lat;
putt I forgif t'em. T'ey are an ignorant, ant selfish, and
prutal preed; ant I may haf triet'em too sorely.  Put Dus
can never pecome t'e wife of any of t'e family."
As Zephaniah was in the room, though not near the bed
at the moment, I was anxious to change the current of the
wounded man's thoughts.; and I questioned him as to the
nature of his hurt, well knowing that Chainbearer had seen
so many soldiers in situations similar to his own unhappy
condition, as to be a tolerable judge of his actual state.
"I'm killet, Mortaunt," old Andries answered, in a tone
even firmer than that in which he had just spoken. "Apout
t'at, t'ere can pe no pnistake. T'ey haf shot t'rough my
rips, ant t'rough my vitals; ant life is impossible. But t'at
does not matter much to me, for I am an olt man now, hafin' lifet my t'ree-score years ant ten-no, t'at is no great
matter, t'ough some olt people cling to life wit' a tighter grip
t'an t'e young.  Such ist not my case, howsefer; ant I am
reaty to march when t'e great wort of commant comet'. I
am fery sorry, Mortaunt, t'at t'is accitent sh6ult:happen
pefore t'e patent hast peen fully surfeyet; put I am not pait
for t'e work t'at is finishet, ant it ist a great comfort to me
to know I shall not tie in tebt. I owe you, ant I owe my
goot frient t'e general, a great -teal for kintnesses, I must
confess; put, in t'e way of money, t'ere wilt be'no loss by
t'is accitent."
"Mention nothing of this sort, I do entreat of you,
Chainbearer; I know my father would gladly give the best
farm he owns to see you standing, erect and well, as you
were twenty minutes since."
" Well, I tares to say, t'at may be true, for I haf always
fount t'e general to pe friently and consiterate. I wilt tell
you a secret, Mortaunt, t'at I haf nefer pefore revealet to
mortal man, put which t'ere ist no great use in keepin' any
longer, ant which I shoult have peen willing to haf tolt




THE  CIIAINBEARER.                     363
long ago, hat not t'e general himself mate it a p'int t at I
shoult not speak of it —"
" Perhaps it might be better, my good friend, were you
to tell me this secret another time.  Talking may weary
and excite you; whereas, sleep and rest may possibly do
you service..
" No, no, poy —te hope of t'at ist all itleness ant vanity.
1 shalt nefer sleep ag'in, tilt I sleep t'e last long sleep of
teat'; I feelt sartain my wount ist mortal, and t'at my time
must soon come. Nefert'eless, it doesn't gif me pain -to
talk, and, Mortaunt, my tear lat, fri'nts t'at pe apout to
part for so long a time, ought not to. part wit'out sayin' a
wort to one anot'er pefore separation.  IF shoult pe glat, in
partic'lar, to telt to a son all t'e kintness and fri'ntship I
have receivet from his fat'er. You know fery well, yourself, Mortaunt, t'at I am not great at figures; and why it
shoult pe so, ist a wonter ant a surprise to me, for my
grantfat'er Van Syce was a wonterful man at arit'metic,
and t'e first Cojemans in t'is country, t'ey say, kept all t'e
tominie's accounts for him! Put, let t'at pe ast it wast, I
nefer coult do any t'ing wit' figures; ant, it ist a secret not
to pe concealet now, Mortaunt, t'at I nefer coult haf helt
my commission of captain six weeks, put for your own
fat'er's kintness to me. Fintin' out how impossible it wast
for me to get along wit' arit'metic, he offeret to do all t'at
sort of tuty for me, ant t'e whole time we wast toget'er,
seven long years ant more, Colonel Littlepage mate out t'e
reports of Cojeman's company. Capital goot reports was
t'ey, too, and t'e atmiration of all t'at see t'em; and I often
felt ashamet like, when I he'rt t'em praiset, and people wonterin' how an olt Tutchman ever l'arnet to do his tuty so
well! I shalt nefer see t'e general ag'in, ant I -wish you to
tell him t'at Andries tit not forget his gootness to him, to
t'e latest preat t'at he trew."
"I will do all you ask of me, Chainbearer-surely it
must give you pain to talk so much?"
" Not at all, poy;-not at all.  It is goot to t'e poty to
lighten t'e soul of its opligations.  Ast I see, howsefer,
t'at Dus ist trouplet, 1 wilt shut my eyes, ant look into my
own t'oughts a little, for I may not tie for some hours
vet."




364          THE C H A I N B E A. E R.
It sounded earful to me to hear one I loved so well speak
so calmly, and with so much certainty of his approaching
end. I could see that Ursula almost writhed under the
agony these words produced in her; yet that noble-minded
creature wore an air of calmness, that might have deceived
one who knew her less well than she was known to me.
She signed for me to quit the side of the bed, in the vain
hope that her uncle might fall asleep, and placed herself
silently on a'chair, at hand, in readiness to attend to his
wants. As for me, I took the occasion to examine the
state of things without, and to reflect on what course I
ought to-take, in the novel and desperate circumstances in
which we were so unexpectedly placed: the time for something decisive having certainly arrived.
It was now near an hour after the deed had been done
-and there sat Thousandacres and his wife, one on each
side of the fire, in silent thought.  As I turned to look at
the squatters, and the father of squatters, I saw that his
countenance Was set in that species of sullen moodiness,
which might well be taken as ominous in a man of his
looseness of principle and fierceness of temperament. Nor
had the nervous twitchings of Prudence ceased. In a word,
both of these strange beings appeared at the end of that
hour just as they had appeared at its commencement. It
struck me, as I passed -them in moving towards the door,
that there was even a sublimity in their steadiness in guilt.
I ought, however, in some slight degree to except the woman,
whose agitation was some proof that she repented of what
had been done. At the door, itself, I found no one; but,
two or three of the young men were talking in a low tone
to each other at no great distance.  Apparently they had
an eye to what was going on within the building. Still no
one of them spoke to me, and I began to'think that the
crime already committed had produced such a shock, that
no further wrong to any of us was contemplated, and that
I might consider myself at liberty to do and act as I saw
fit. A twitch at my sleeve, however,-drew my look aside,
and I saw Lowiny cowering within the shadows of the
house, seemingly eager to attract my attention. She had
been absent some little time, and had probably been listen
ing to the discourse of those without.




TH E C II A I.N BEARER.            365
"Don't think of venturing far from the house," the girl
whispered.  " Tihe evil spirit has got possession of' Tobit;
and he has iust sworn the same grave shill hold you, and
Chainbearer and Dus.' Graves don't turn State's evidence,'
hie says. I never know'd him to be so awful as he is to
night; though he's dreadful in temper when anything goes
amiss."
The girl glided past me as she ceased her hurried com.
munlcatlon, and the next instant she was standing quietly
at the side of Du.s, in readiness to offer her assistance in any
necessary office for the sick.- I saw that she had escaped
notice, and then reconnoitred my own position with some
little care.
By this time the night had got to be quite dark; and it
was. impossible to recognise persons at the distance of twenty
feet. It is true, one could tell a man from a stump at twice
that number of yards, or even further; but the objects of
the rude clearing began to be confounded together in a way
to deprive the vision of much of its customary power. That
group of young men, as t suppose, contained the formidable
Tobit;. but I could be by no means certain of the fact
without approaching quite near to it. This I did not like to
do, as there was nothing that I desired particularly to say
to'any of the family at that moment. Could they have
known my heart, the squatters would have felt no uneasiness on the subject of my escaping; for were Dus quite out
of the question, as she neitheri was nor could be, it would be
morally impossible for me to desert the Chainbearer in his
dying moments. Nevertheless, Tobit and his brethren did
not know this; and it might be dangerous for me to presume
too far on the contrary supposition.
The darkness was intensest near the house, as a matter
of course; and I glided along close to the walls 6f logs until
I reached an angle of the building, thinking the movement
might be unseen. But I got an assurance that I was watched
that would admit of no question, by a call from one of the
young men, directing me not to turn the corner or to go out
of sight in any direction, at the peril of my life. This was
slain speaking;'and it induced a short dialogue between us;
in which I avowed my determination not.to desert my;riends-for the Chainbearer would probably not outlive the
31*




366          THE  CHAINBE ARER.
night-and that I felt no apprehension for myself. I was
heated and excited, and had merely left the house for air,
if they offered' no impediment I would walk to and fro near
them for a few minutes, solely with a view to refresh my
feverish pulses; pledging my word to make no attempt at
escape. This explanation, with the accompanying assu.
rance, seemed to satisfy my guard; and I was quietly per.
mitted to do as I had proposed.
The walk I selected was between the group of squatters
and the house, and at each turn it necessarily brought me
close to the young men. At such moments I profited by
my position to look in through the door of the dwelling at
the motionless form of Dus, who sat at the bedside of her
uncle in the patient, silent, tender, and attentive manner of
woman, and whom  I could plainly see in thus passing.
Notwithstanding the fidelity of my homage. to my mistress
at these instants, I could perceive that the young men uniformly suspended the low dialogue they were hol'ding together, as I approached them, and as uniformly renewed it as
I moved away. This induced me gradually to extend my
walk, lengthening it a little onr each end, until I may have
gone as far as a hundred feet on each side of the group,
which I took for the centre. To have gone farther would
have been imprudent, as it might seem preparatory to an
attempt at escape, and to a consequent violation of my word.
In this manner, then,. I may have made eight or ten.urns in as many minutes, when I heard a low, hissing sound
near me, while at the extremity of one of my short pro.
menades. A stump stood there, and the sound came from
the root of this stump. At first I fancied I had encroached
on the domain of some serpent; though animals'of that
species, which would be likely to give forth such a menace,
were even then very rare among us. But my uncertainty
was soon relieved.
" Why you no stop at stump?" said Susquesus, in a voice
so low as not to be heard at the distance of ten feet, while
it was perfectly distinct and not in a whisper. " Got sut'in'
tell-glad to hear."
"Wait until I can make one or two more turns; I will
come back in a moment," was my guarded answer.
Then I continued my march, placing myself against a




TH]  C H A I N BEsA R E R.         367
Stump that stood at the other end of my walk, remaining
leaning there for an entire minute or two, when I returned,
passing the young men as before. This I did three several
times, stopping at each turn, as if to rest or to reflect; and
making each succeeding halt longer than the one that had
preceded it. At length I took my stand against the very
stump that concealed the Indian.
" How came you here, Susquesus?" I asked; "and are
you armed?"
" Yes; got good rifle. Chainbearer's gun. He no want
him any longer, eh?"
"You know then what has happened?  Chainbearer is
mortally wounded."
" Dat bad-must take scalp to pay for dat!  Ole fri'ndgood fri'nd.  Always kill murderer."
"I beg nothing of the sort will be attempted; btt how
came you here? —and how came you armed?"
"Jaap do him —come and break open door. Nigger
strong-do what he like to.  Bring rifle-.say take him.
Wish he come sooner —den Chainbearer no get kill.  We
see!'
I thought it prudent to move on by' the time this was said;
and I made a turn or two ere I was disposed to come to another halt. The truth, however, was now apparent to me.
Jaap had come in from the forest, forced the fastenings of
the Onondago's prison, given him arms, and they were both
out in the darkness, prowling round the buildings, watching
for the moment to strike a blow, or an opportunity to communicate with me. How they had ascertained the fact of
Chainbearer's being shot, I was left to conjecture; though
Susquesus must have heard the report of the rifle; and an
Indian, on such a night as that, led to pursue his own course,
would" soon ascertain all the leading points of any circumstance in which he felt an interest.
My brain was in a whirl as all these details presented
themselves to my mind, and I was greatly at a loss to decide
on my course. In order to gain time for reflection, I stopped
a moment at the stump, and whispered to the Onondago a
request, that he would remain where he was until I could
give him his orders. An expressive " good" was the answer I received; and I observed that the Indian crouched




368           THE  CHAINBEA  ER.
lower in his lair, like some fierce animal of the woods, that
restrained his impatience, in order to make his leap, when
tt did come, more certain and fatal.
I had now a little.leisure for reflection. There lay poor
Chainbearer, stretched on his death-pallet, as motionless as
if the breath had already left his body. Diis maintained
her post, nearly as immovable as her uncle; while Lowiny
stood at hand, manifesting the sympathy of her sex in the
mourning scene before her. I caught glimpses, too, in pass.
Ing, of Thousandacres and Prudence. It appeared to me
as if the first had not stirred, from the moment when he had
taken his seat on the hearth.  His countenance was as set,
his air as moody, and his attitude as stubborn, as each had
been in the first five minutes after the chainbearer fell.
Prudence, too, was as unchanged as her husband.  Her
body continued to rock, in nervous excitement, but not once
had I seen her raise her eyes from the stone of the rude
hearth, that covered nearly one-half of the room. The fire
had nearly burped down, and no one replenishing the brush
which fed it, a flickering flame alone remained to cast its
wavering light over the forms of these two conscience.
stricken creatures, rendering. them still more mysterious and
forbidding. Lowiny had indeed lighted a thin, miserable
candle of tallow, such as one usually'sees in the lowest
habitations; but it was placed aside, in order to be removed
from before the sight of the supposed slumberer, and added
but little to the light of the room. Notwithstanding, I could
and did see all I have described, stopping for some little
time at a point that commanded a view of the interior of the
house..
Of Dus, I could ascertain but little. She was nearly immovable at the bed-side 4f her uncle, but her countenance
was veiled from my view. Suddenly, and it was at one of
those moments when I had stopped in front of the building,
she dropped on her knees, buried her face in the coverlet,
and became lost in prayer. Prudence started, as she saw
this act; then she arose, after the fashion of those who ima.
gine they have contributed to the simplicity, and conse.
quently to the beauty of worship, by avoiding the ceremony
of kneeling to Almighty God, and stood erect, moving to
and fro, as before, her tall, gaunt figure, resembling some




THE  CHAINBEARER.                   369
ilalf:decayed hemlock 6f the adjacent forest, that has lost
the greater portion of its verdure, rocked by a tempest. I
was touched, notwithstanding, at this silent evidence that
the woman retained some of the respect and feeling for the
services of the Deity, which, though strangely blended with
fanaticism and a pertinacious self:righteousness, no doubt
had a large influence in bringing those who belonged to her
race across the Atlantic, some five or six generations pre.
viously to her own.
It was just at this instant that I recognised the voiceof
Tobit, as he advanced towards the. group composed of his
brethren; and speaking to his wife, who accompanied him
as far as his fafther's habitation, and there left him, apparently to return to her own. I did not distinguish what was
said, but the squatter spoke sullenly, and in the tone of one
whose humour was menacing. Believing that I might meet
with some rudeness of a provoking character from this man,
should he see me walking about in the manner I had now
been doing fobr near a quarter of an hour, ere he had the
matter explained, I thought it wisest to enter the building,
and effect an object I had in view, by holding a brief con.
versation with Thousandacres.
This determination was no sooner formed than I put it in
execution; trusting that the patience of the Indian, and
Jaap's habits of obedience, would prevent anything like an
outbreak from them, without orders. As I Re-entered the
room, Dus was still on her knees, and Prudence continued
erect, oscillating as before, with her eyes riveted on the
hearth. Lowiny stood near the bed, and I thought, like her
mother, she was in some measure mingling in spirit, with
the prayer.
" Thousandacres," I commenced in a low voice, drawing
quite near to the squatter; and succeeding in causing him to
look at me, by my address —" Thousandacres, this has been
a most melancholy business, but everything should be done
that can be done, to repair the evil. Will you not send a
messenger through to the'Nest, to obtain the aid of the
physician?"
" Doctors can do but little good to a wound made by a
rifle that was-fired so cluss, young man. I want no doctors
nere, to betray me and mine to the law."




370           THE CHAINBEARER.
"Nay, your messenger can keep your secret; and I will
give him gold to induce the physician to come, and come at
once.  He can be told that I am  accidentally hurt, and
might still reach us to be of service in alleviating pain; I
confess there is no hope for anything else."' "Men rhust take their chances," coldly returned that obdurate being. " Them that live in the woods, take woodsmen's
luck; and them that live in the open country, the open
country luck. My family and lumber must be presarved at
allPrisks; and no doctor shall come here."
What was to be done-what could be done, with such a
being? All principle, all sense of right, was concentrated
in self-in his moral system. It was as impossible to make
him  see the side of any question that was opposer. to his
interests, fancied or real, as it was to give sight to the phy.
sically blind. I had hoped contrition was at work upon him,
and that some advantage might be obtained through the
agency of so powerful a mediator; but no sooner was his
dull -nature aroused into anything like action, than it took
the direction of selfishness, as the needle points to the
pole.
Disgusted at this exhibition of the most confirmed trait of
the squatter's character, I was in the act of moving from
him, when a loud shout arose around the building, and the
flashes and reports of three or four rifles were heard. Rushing to the door, I was in time to hear the tramp of men, who
seemed to me'to be pushing forward in all directions; and
the crack of the rifle was occasionally heard, apparently
retiring towards the woods. Men called to each other, in
the excitement of a chase and conflict; but I could gain no
information, the body of darkness which had settled on the
place having completely hidden everything from view, at
any distance.
In this state of most painful doubt I continued for five or
six minutes, the noise of the chase receding the whole time,
when a man came rushing up to the door of the hut where
I stood, and, seizing my hand, I found it was Frank Malbone. The succour, then, had arrived, and I was no longer
a captive.
"God be praised! you at least are safe," cried Malbone' But my dear sister?"




THE  CHAINBIIARER.                  371
" Is there unharmed, watching by the side of her uncle's
dying bed. Is. any one hurt without?"
" That is more than I can tell you. Your black acted as
guide, and brought us down on' the place so skilfully, that
it was diot my intention to resort to arms at all, since we
might have captured all the squatters without firing a shot,
had my orders been observed. But a rifle was discharged
from behind a stump, and this drew a volley from the enemy.
Some of our-side returned the discharge, and the squatters
then took to flight. The firing you have just heard is scattered discharges that have come fromn both sides, and can be
only sound, as any aim is impossible in this obscurity. My
own piece has not even been cocked, and I regret a rifle has
been fired."
"Perhaps alJ is then well, and we have driven off our
enemies without doing them any harm. Are you strong
enough to keep them at a distance?"
"Perfectly so; we are a posse of near thirty men, led by
an under-sheriff and a magistrate. All we wanted was &
direction to this spot, to have arrived some hours earlier."
I groaned in spirit at hearing this, since those few hours
might have saved the life of poor Chainbearer. As it was,
however, this rescue was the subject of grateful rejoicing,
and one of the happiest moments of my life was that in
which I saw Dus fall on her brother's bosom, and burst into
tears, I was at their side, in the door-way of the hut, when
this meeting took place; and Dus held out a hand affectionately to me, as she withdrew herself from her brother's
arms. Frank Malbone looked a little surprised at this act;
but, anxious to see and speak to Chainbearer, he passed into
the building, and approached the bed. Dus and I followed;
fco the shouts and firing had reached the ears of the wound.
ed man, and Andries was anxious to learn their meaning.
The sight of Malbone let him into a general knowledge of
the state of the facts; but a strong anxiety was depicted in
his failing countenance, as he looked towards me for infor.
mation.
" What is it, Mortaunt?" he asked, with considerable
strength of voice, his interest in the answer probably stimulating his physical powers. "What is it, poy? I hope t'ere
hast peen no useless fightin' on account of a poor olt map




372           THE CHAINBEARER.
like me, who hast seen his t'ree-score years ant ten, ant
who owest to his Maker t'e life t'at wast grantet to him
seventy long years ago.  I hope no one hast peen injuret in
so poor a cause."
" We know of no one besides yourself, Chainbeairer, who
hias been hurt to-night. The firing you have heard, comes
from the party of Frank Malbone, which has just arrived,
and which has driven off the squatters by noise more than
by any harm that has been done them."
" Got pe praiset! Got pe praiset! I am glat to see Frank
pefore I tie, first to take leaf of him, as an olt frient, ant
secontly to place his sister, Dus, in his care. T'ey haf
wantet to gif Dus one of t'ese squatters for a huspant, by
way of making peace petween t'ieves ant -honest people.
T'at woult nefer do, Frank, as you well know Dus ist t'e
ta'ghter of a gentleman, ant t'e ta'ghter of a laty; ant she
ist a gentlewoman herself, ant ist not to pe marriet to a
coarse, rute, illiterate, vulgar squatter.  Wast I young, ant
wast I not t'e gal's uncle, I shoult not venture to s'pose
I coult make her a fit companion myself, peing too little
edicated ant instructet, to pe the huspant of one like Dus
Malpone."
" There is no fear now, that any such calamity can befall
my sister, my dear Chainbearer, answered Frank Malbone.
"Nor do I think any threats or dangers could so far
intimidate Dus, as to cause her to plight her faith to any
man she did not love or respect. They would have found
my sister difficult to coerce."
" It ist pest ast it ist, Frank-yes, it ist pest ast it ist.
T'ese squatters are fery sat rascals, ant woult not pe apt to
stop at trifles.  Ant, now we are on t'is supject, I wilt say
a wort more consarnin' your sister.  I see she last gone
out of t'e hut to weep, ant she wilt not hear what I haf to
say.  Here ist Mortaunt Littlepage, who says he lofes Dus
more ast man efer lovet woman pefore -" Frank started,
and I fancied that his countenance grew dark-"' ant what
ist nat'ral enough, when a man dost truly lofe a woman in
t'at tegree, he wishes fery, fery much to marry her"Frank's countenance brightened immediately, and seeing
mny band extended towards him, he grasped it and gave it a
laost cordial pressure.  " Now, Mortaunt woult pe an ex




THE C  A INBEAREIR.                  373
cellent match for Dus — a most capital rmatch, for he ist
young ant goot lookin', ant prave, ant honouraple, ant sensiple, ant rich, all of which pe fery goot t'ings in matri.
mony; put, on t'e ot'er hant, he hast a fat'er, ant a inot'er,
hnt sisters, ant it ist nat'ral, too, t'at t'ey shoult not like,
overmuch, to haf a son ant a prot'er marry a gal t'at hasn't
any t'ing put a set of chains, a new compass, ant a few
fielt articles t'at wi-t fall to her share a'ter my teat'.  N%,
no; we must t'ink of t'e honour of t'e Coejemans ant t'e
Malpones, ant not let our peloved gal go into a family t'at
may not want her."
I could see that Frank Malbone smiled, though sadly, as
he listened to this warning; for, on him, it made little or no
impression, since he was generous enough to judge me b3
himself, and did not believe any such mercenary considera
tions would influence my course:  I felt differently, how
ever. Obstinacy in opinion, was one of the weak points in
Chainbearer's character, and I saw the danger of his leaving
these sentiments as a legacy to Dus.  She, indeed, had been
the first to entertain them, and to communicate them to her
uncle, and they might revive in her when she carne to reflect
on the true condition of things, and become confirmed by
the dying requests of her uncle.  It is true, that in our own
interview, when I obtained from the dear girl the precious
confession of her love, no such obstacle seemed to exist, but
both of us appeared to look forward with confidence to our
future union as to a thing certain; but at that moment, Dus
was excited by my declarations of the most ardent and
unutterable attachment, and led away by the strength of her
own feelings. We were in the delirium of delight produced
by mutual confidence, and the full assurance of mutual love,
when Thousandacres came upon us, to carry us to the
scenes of woe by which we had been, and were still, in a
degree, surrounded. Under such circumstances, one might
well fall under the influence of feelings and emotions thal
would prove to be more controllable in cooler moments. It
was all-important, then, for me to set Chainbearer right in
the matter, and to have a care he did not quit us, leaving
the two persons he most loved on earth, very unnecessarily
miserable, and that solely on account of the strength of his
swn prejudices.  Nevertheless, the moment was not favourt
32




374           THE CH AIN E a R  R.
able to pursue suct a purpose, and I was reflecting bitterly
on the future, when we were all startled by a heavy groan
that seemed to come out of the very depths of the chest of
the squatter.
Frank and I turned instinctively towards the chimney, oh
hearing this unlooked-for interruption. The chair of Prudence was vacant, the woman having rushed froh.the hut
at the first sound of the recent alarm; most probably, in
quest of her younger children.  But Thousandacres ire.
mained in the very seat he had now occupied nearly, if not
quite, two hours. I observed, however, that his form was
not as erect as when previously seen. It had sunk lower
in the chair, while his chin hung down upon his breast.
Advancing nearer, a small pool of blood was seen on the
stones beneath him, and a short examination told Malbone
and myself, that a rifle-bullet had passed directly through
his body, in a straight line, and that only three inches above
the hips!
CHIAPTER XXVII.
" With woful measures, wan despairLow, sullen sounds his grief beguil'd,
A solemn, strange, and mingled air;'Twas sa:d by fits, by starts'twas wild."
COLLINS.
THOUSANDACRES had.been shot in his chair, by one of
ihe rifles first discharged that night.  As it turned out, he
was the only one that we could ascertain was hurt; though
there was a report, to which many persons gave credence,
that Tobit had a leg broken, also, and that he remained a
cripple for life. I am inclined to believe this report may
have been true; for Jaap told me, after all was over, that
he let fly on. a man who had just fired on himself, and who
certainly fell, and was borne off limping, by two of his
companions.  I'. is quite probable that this hurt of TobitTs,
and the fate of his father, was the reason we received no




THE CHAINBEARER.                     375
more annoyance that night from the squatters, who had aU
vanished from the clearing so effectually, including most of
the females and all the children, that no traces of their place
of retreat were to be found next morning. Lowiny, however, did not accompany the family, but remained near Dus,
rendering herself highly useful as an attendant in the melancholy scene that followed. I may as well add, here, that
no evidence was ever obtained concerning the manner in
which Thousandacres received his death-wound.  He was
shot through the open door, beyond all question, as he sat
in his chair; and necessarily in the early part of the fray,
for then only was a rifle.discharged very near the house, or
from a point that admitted of the ball's hitting its victim.
For myself, I belie,ved from the first that Susquesus sacrificed the squatter to the manes of his friend, Chainbearer;
dealing out Indian justice, without hesitation or compunction. Still, I could not be certain of the fact; and the Onon.
dago had either sufficient prudence or sufficient philosophy
to keep his own secret. It is true that a remark or two did
escape him, soon after the affair occurred, that tended to
sustain my suspicions; but, on the whole, he was remarkably reserved on the subject-less from any apprehension
of consequences, than from self-respect and pride of character. There was little to be apprehended, indeed; the previous murder of Chainbearer, and the unlawful nature of all
the proceedings of the squatters, justifying a direct and sud.
den attack on the part of the posse.
Just as Malbone and myself discovered the condition of
Thousandacres, this posse, with'squire Newcome at its
head, began to collect around the house, which might now
be termed our hospital. As the party was large, and neces.
sarily a little tumultuous, I desired Frank to lead them off
to some of the other buildings, as soon as a bed had been
prepared for the squatter, who was placed in ihe same room
with Chainbearer, to die. No one, in the least acquainted
with injuries of that nature, could entertain any hope for
either; though a messenger was sent to the settlements for
the individual who was called " doctor," and who was really
fast acquiring many useful -ihotions about his profession, by
practising on the human system. They say that " an ounce
of experience is worth a pound of theory," and this disciple




376           TE CHAINBEAR E R.
of Esculapius seemed to have set up in his art on this prin.
ciple; having little or none of the last, while he was really
obtaining a very respectable amount of the first, as he practised right and left, as the pugilist is most apt to hit in his
rallies. Occasionally, however, he gave a knock-down blow.
As soon as the necessary arrangemenss. were made in
our hospital, I told Dus that we would leave her and Lowiny
in attendance on the wounded, both of whom manifested
weariness and a disposition to doze, while all the rest of the
party would draw off, and take up their quarters for the
night in the adjacent buildings.  Malbone was to remain,
as a sentinel, a little distance from the door, and I promised
to join him in the course of an hour.
" Lowiny can attend to the wants of her father, while
you will have the tenderest care of your uncle, I well know.
A little drink occasionally is all that can alleviate their sufferings-"
"Let me come in," interrupted a hoarse female voice at
the door, as a woman forced her way through the opposing
arms of several of the posse. "I am Aaron's wife, and
they tell me he is hurt. God himself has ordered that a
woman should cleave unto her husband, and Thousandacres
is mine; and he is the father of my children, if he has murdered, and been murdered in his turn."
There was something so commanding in the natural emotions of this woman, that the guard at the door gave way
immediately, when Prudence entered the room; The first
glance of the squatter's wife was at the bed of Chainbearer,
but nothing there held her gaze riveted. Thatgaze only
became fixed as her eyes fell on the large form of Thousandacres, as he lay extended on his death-bed. It is probable
that fthis experienced matron, who had seen so many accidents in the course of a long life, and had sat by so many
E. bedside, understood the desperate nature of her husband's
situation as soon as her eyes fell on the fallen countenancefor, turning to those near her, the first impulse was to revenge the wrong which she conceived had been done to her
and hers. I will acknowledge that I felt awed, and that a
thrill passed through my frame as this rude and unnurtured
female, roused by ner impulses, demanded authoritatively"Who has done this "  Who has taken the breath from




THE CHAIN IEAIRER.                  377
my man befoie the time set by the Lord! Who has dared
to make my children fatherless, and me a widow, ag'in' law
and right?  I left my man seated on that hearth, heart.
stricken and troubled at what had happened to another; and
they tell me he has been murdered in his chair. The Lord
will be on our side at last, and then we'll see whom the
law will favour, and whom the law will condemnln!"
A movement and a groan, on the part of Thousdndacres,
would seem first to have apprized Prudence that her husband was not actually dead.  Starting at this discovery,
this tiger's mate and tiger's darn, if not tigress herself, ceased
everything like appeal and complaint, and set herself about
those duties which naturally suggested themselves to one of
her experience, with the energy of a frontier woman-a
woodsman's wife, and the mother of a large brood of woods:
man's sons and daughters. She wiped the face of Thousandacres, wet his lips, shifted his pillow, such as it was, placed
his limbs in postures she thought the easiest, and otherwise
manifested a sort of desperate energy in her care. The
whole time she was doing this, her tongue was muttering
prayers and menaces, strangely blended together, and quite
as strangely mixed up with epithets of endearment that were
thrown away on her still insensible and least unconscious
husband. She called him Aaron, and that, too, in a tone
that sounded as if Thousandacres had a strong hold on her
affections, and -might at least have been kind and true to
her.
I felt convinced that Dus had nothing to fear from Prudence, and I left the place as soon as the two nurses had
everything arranged for their respective patients, and the
iouse was quite free from the danger of intrusion. On
quitting her who now occupied most of my thoughts, I ventured to whisper a request she would not forget the pledges
given me in the forest, and asked her to summon me to the
bedside of Chainbearer, should he rouse himself from the
slumber that had come.over him, and manifest a desire to
converse.  I feared he might renew the subject to which his
mind had already once adxerted since receiving his wound,
and imbue his niece with some of his own set notions on
that subject.  Ursula was kindness itself.  Her affliction
uad even softened her feelings towards me more than ever;
32*




a78          THE CII A E N- B E; ARR.
and, so far as she was concerned, I certainly had no ground
for uneasiness.  In passing Frank, who stood on post some
twenty yards from the door of the house, he said' God bless
you, Littlepage,-fear nothing.  I am too much. in your
own situation, not to be warmly your friend.' I returned
his good wishes, and went my way, in one sense rejoicing.
The posse, as has been stated, were in possession of the
different deserted habitations of the family of Thousandacres.
The night being cool, fires were blazing on all the hearths,
and the place wore an air of cheerfulness that it had probably never before known. Most of ihe, men had crowded into
two of the dwellings, leaving a third for the convenience of
the magistrate, Frank Malbone, and myself, whenever we
might choose to repair to it. By the time I appeared, the
posse had supped, using the milk and bread, and other eat.
ables of the squatters, ad libitum, and were disposing of'
themselves on the beds and on the floors, to take a little rest,
after their long and rapid march. But in my own quarters
I f6und'squire Newcome, alone, unless the silent and motionless Onondago, who occupied a chair inu a corner of the
fire-place, could be called a companion.  Jaap, too, in expectation of my arrival, was lounging near the door; and
when I entered the house, he followed me in for orders.
It was easy for me, who knew of Newcome's relations
with the squatters, to discover the signs of confusion in his
countenance, as his eye first met mine. One who was not
acquainted with the circumstances, most probably would
have detected nothing out of the common way. It will be
remembered that the "'squire' had no positive knowledge
that I was acquainted with his previous visit to the mill;
and it will be easy to see that he must have felt an itching
and uneasy desire to ascertain that fact.  A great deal de.
pended on that circumstance; nor was it long before I had
a specimen of his art in sounding round the truth, with a
view to relieve his mind.
" Who'd'a' thought of findin' major Littlepage in the
hands of the Philistines, in sich an out o' the way place as
this!" exclaimed Mr. Newcome, as soon as our salutations
had been exchanged. " I've heern say there was squatters
down hereabouts; but sich things are so common, that I




THE C  AIN B EARER.                  379
never bethought me of givin' him a hint on the matter when
I last saw the major."
Nothing. could surpass the deferential manner of this per.
son when he had an object to gain, it being quite common
with him to use the third person, in this way, when address.
ing a superior; a practice that has almost become obsolete
in the English language, and which is seldom if ever used
in America, except by this particular class of men, who
defer before your face, and endeavour to undermine when
the back is turned. My hurnour was not to trifle with this
fellow, though I did not know that it was exactly prudent,
just then, to let him know that I had both seen and' heard
him in his former visit, and was fully aware of.all his practices. It was not easy, however, to resist the opportunity
given by his own remarks, to put him a little way on the
tenter-hooks of conscience-that quality of the human mind
being one of the keenest allies an assailant can possess, in
cases of this sort.' I had supposed, Mr. Newcome, that you were generally
charged with the care of the Mooseridge lands, as one of
the conditions annexed to the Ravensnest agency?" I some.
what drily remarked.
"' Sartain, sir; the colonel-or gin'ral, as he ought to be
called now, I do s'pose-gave me the superintendence of
both at the same time. But the major knows, I presume,
that Mooseridge was not on sale?"
" No, sir; it would seem to have been only on plunder.
One would think that an agent, entrusted with the careof
an estate, and who heard of squatters being in possession,
and stripping the land of its ti, would feel it to be his
duty at least to apprise the owners of the circumstance, that
they might look to the case, if he did riot."
"The major hasn't rightly understood me," put in the'squire, in a manner that was particularly deprecatory; " 
don't mean to say that I know'd, with anything like positiveness, that there was squatters hereabouts; but that
rumours was stirrin' of some sich things. But squatters is
sich common objects in hnew countries, that a body scarce
turns aside to look at them!"
" So it would seem, in your case at leasL, Mr. Newcome.
rhis Thousandacres, however, they tell me, is a well-known




380           THE CHAINBEARER.
character, and has done little since his youth but lumber oo
the property of other people. I should suppose you must
have met him, in the course of five-and-twenty years' resi.
dence in this part of the world?"
"Lord bless the major! met Thousandacres?  Why,
I've met him a hundred times! We all know the old man
well enough; and many and many is the time I've met him
at raisin's, and trainin's, and town meetin's, qnd political
mastin's, too. I've even seen him in court, though Thousandacres don't set much store by law, not half as much
as he and every other man ought to do; for law is excellent, and society would be no better than a collection of wild
beasts, as I often tell Miss Newcome, if it hadn't law to
straighten it out, and to teach the misguided and evil-disposed what's right. I s'pose the major will coincide with
that idee?"
" I have q.o particular objection to the sentiment, sir, but
wish it was more general. As you have seen this person
Thousandacres so often, perhaps you can tell me something
of his character.  My opportunities of knowing the man
have been none of the best; for, most of the time I was his
prisoner, he had me shut up in an out-building in.which I
believe he has usually kept his salt, and grain, and spare
provisions."
" Not the old store'-us'!" exclaimed the magistrate, look.
ing a little aghast, for the reader will doubtless recollect
that the confidential dialogue between him and the squatter,
on the subject of the lumber, had occurred so near that
building as to be overheard by me. "How long has the
major been in this clearin', I wonder?"
" Not a very great while in fact, though long enough to
make it appear a-week. I was put into the store-house
soon after my seizure, and have passed at least half my
time.there since.."
"I want to know! - Perhaps the major got in that hole
as'arly as yesterday morn?"
"Perhaps I did, sir. But, Mr. Newcome, on looking
-ound at the quantity of lumber these men have made, and
recollecting the distance they are from Albany, I am at a
loss to imagine how they could hope to get their ill-gotten
gains to market without discovery.  It would seem to me




THE C HA I N B EARE.                381
that their movements must be known, and that the active
and honest agents of this part of the country.would seize
their rafts in the water-courses; thus making the very objects
of the squatters' roguery the means of their punishment.
Is it not extraordinary that theft, in a moral sense at least,
can be systematically carried on, and that on so large a
scale, with such entire impunity?"
" Wa-al —I s'pose the major knows how things turn, in
this world. Nobody likes to meddle."
" How, sir -not meddle!  This is contrary to all my
experience of the habits of the country, and all I have heard
of it! Meddling, I have been given to understand, is the
great vice of our immigrant population, in particular, who
never think they have their just rights, unless they are pri.
vileged to talk about, and sit in judgment on the affairs of
all within twenty miles of them; making two-thirds of their
facts as they do so, in order to reconcile their theories with
the wished-for results."
"Ah! I don't mean meddlin' in that sense, of which there
is enough, as all must allow. But folks don't like to meddle
with things that don't belong to them in such serious matters as this."
" I understand you - the man who will pass days in dis*
cussing his neighbour's private affairs, about which he absolutely knows nothing but what has been obtained from
the least responsible and most vulgar sources, will stand by
and see that neighbour robbed and say nothing; under the
influence of a sentiment so delicate, that it forbids his meddling with what don't belong to him!"
Lest the reader should think I was unduly severe upon'squire Newcome, let me appeal to his own experience, and
Inquire if he never knew, not only individuals, but whole
neighbourhoods, which were sorely addicted to prying into
every man's affairs, and to inventing when facts did not ex.
actly sustain theories; in a word, convulsing themselves
with that with which they have no real concern, draw them.
selves up in dignified reserve, as the witnesses of wrongs of
all sorts, that everyhonest man is bound to oppose? I will
go fuirther, and ask if a man does happen to step forth to
vindicate the right, to. assert truth, to defend the weak and
o punish the wrong-doer, if.that man be not usually the




382          T'H E C II AINB!L A R ER.
one who meddles least in the more o:rdinary and miinut
transactions of life - tile man who troubles his neighbours
least, and has the least to say about their private affairs?'Does it not happen that the very individual who will stand
by and see his neighbour wronged, on account of his.indisposition to meddle with that wliich does not belong to him,
will occupy a large portion of his own time in discussing,
throwing out hints, and otherwise commenting on the pri.
vate affairs of that very neighbour?
Mr. Newcome was shrewd, and he understood me well
enough, though he probably found it a relief to his apprehensions to see the conversation inclining towards these
generalities, instead of sticking to the store-house.  Nevertheless,' boards' must have been uppermost in his conscience; and, after a pause, he made an invasion into the
career of Thousandacres, by way of diverting me from
pushing matters too directly.
", This old squatter was a desperate man, major Littlepage," he answered, " and it may be fortinate for the country that he is done with. I hear the old fellow is killed,
and that all the rest of the family has absconded."
" It is not quite so bad as that. Thousandacres is hurt
-mortally, perhaps-and all his sons have disappeared;
but his wife and one of his daughters are still here,. in attendance on the husband and father."
" Prudence is here, then!" exclaimed Mr. Newcome, a
little indiscreetly as I thought.
"She is-but you seem  to know the family well for a
magistrate,'squire, seeing their ordinary occupation — so
well, as to call the woman by her name."
"Prudence, I think Thousandacres used to call his
woman.  Yes, the major is very right; we magistrates do
get to know the neighbourhood pretty gin'rally; what between summonses, and warrants, and bailings-out. But the
major hasn't yet said when he first fell into the hands of
these folks?"
" I first entered this clearing yesterday morning, not a
long time tfter the sun rose, since whicJh  time, sir, I have
oeen detained here, either by force or by circumstances."
A long pause succeeded this announcement. The'squire
fidgeted, and seemed uncertain how to act; for, while.my




THE CHAINBEARER.                    383
announcement must have given rise, in his mind, to the
strGng probability of my knowing of his connection with
the squatters, it did not absolutely say as much. I could
see that he was debating with himself on the expediency or
corning out with some tale invented for the occasion, and I
turned towards the Indian and the negro, both of whom I
knew to be thoroughly honest-after the Indian and the
negro fashions - in order to say a friendly word to each in
turn.
Susquesus was in one of his quiescent moods, and had
lighted a pipe, which he was calmly smoking.  No one, to
look at him, would suppose that he had so lately been engaged in a scene like that through which he had actually
gone; but, rather, that he was some thoughtful philosopher,
who habitually passed his time in reflection and study.
As this was one of the occasions on which the Onondago
came nearest to admitting his own agency in procuring -the
death of the squatter, I shall relate the little that passed
between us.
" Good evening, Sureflint," I commenced, extending a
hand, which the other courteously took in compliance with
our customs. "I am glad to see you at large, and no
longer a prisoner in that store-house."
" Store-'us' poor gaol. Jaap snap off bolt like pipe-stem.
Won'er T'ousandacres didn't t'ink of d'at."
" Thousandacres has had too much to think of this even.
ing, to remember such a trifle. He has now to think of his
end."
The Onondago was clearing the bowl of his pipe of its
superfluous ashes as I said this, and he deliberately effected
his purpose ere he answered"Sartain-s'pose he kill dis time."
"I fear his hurt is mortal, and greatly regret that it has
happened.  The blood of our tried friend, (hainbeare'r,
was enough to be shed in so miserable an affair as this."
"Yes,'fair pretty mis'rable; t'ink. so, too. If squatter
shoot surveyor, must t'ink surveyor's fri'nd will shoot
squatter."." That may be Indian law, Sureflint, but it is not the law
if the Pale Face, in the time of peace and quiet."
Susquesus continued to smoke, making no answer.




384           T HE CHAINBEARER.
" It was a very wicked thing to murder Chainbearer, and
Thousandacres should have been handed over to the magis.
trates, for punishment, if he had a hand in it; not shot,
like a dog."
The Onondago drew his pipe from his mouth, looked
round towards the'squire, who had gone to the door in
order to breathe the fresh air-then, turning his eyes most
significantly on me, he answered"Who magistrate go to, eh? —What use good law wit'
poor magistrate? Better have red-skin law, and warrior be
he own magistrate —own gallows, too."
The pipe was replaced, and Sureflint appeared to be
satisfied with what had passed; for he. turned away, and
seemed to be lost, again, in his own reflections.
After all, the strong native intellect of this barbarian had
let him into one of the greatest secrets connected with our
social ills.  Good laws, badly administered, are no better
than an absence of all law, since they only encourage evildoers by the protection they afford through the power conferred on improper agents. Thcse who have studied the
defects of the American system, with a view. to ascertain
truth, say that the want of a great moving power to set justice in motion lies at the root of its feebleness. According
to theory, the public virtue is to constitute this power; but
public virtue is never one-half as active as private vice.
Crime is only to be put down by the strong hand, and that
hand must belong to the public in truth, not in name only;
whereas, the individual wronged is fast getting to be the
only moving power, and in very many cases local parties
are formed, and the rogue goes to the bar sustained by an
authority that has quite as much practical control as the
law itself. Juries and grand juries are no longer to be re.
lied on, and the bench is slowly, but steadily, losing its influence. When the day shall come-as come it must, if present tendencies continue —that verdicts are rendered directly
in the teeth of law arnd evidence, and jurors fancy themselves legislators, then may the just man fancy himself ap.
proaching truly evil times, and the patriot begin to despair.
It will be the commencement of the rogue's paradise! Nothing is easier, I am willing to admit, than to over-govern
men; but it ought not to be forgotten, that the political vice.




T HI   CI A I   EAR E R.            385
that comes next in the scale of facility, is to govern them
ioo little.
Jaap, or Jaaf, had been humbly waiting for his turn to
be noticed. There existed perfect confidence, as between
him and myself, but there were also'bounds, in the way of
respect, that the slave never presumed to pass, without direct encouragement from the master. Had I not seen fit to
speak to the black that night, he would not have.commenced
a conversation, which, begun by me, he entered into with
the utmost frankness and freedom from restriaint.
" You seem to have managed your part of this affair,
Jaap," I said, "with discretion and spirit.  I have every
reason to be satisfied with you; more especially for libe.
rating the Indnan, and for the manner in which you guided
the posse down into the clearing, from the woods."
" Yes, sah; s'pose you would t'ink dat was pretty well.
As for Sus, t'ought it best to let him out, for he be won'erful
sartain wid he rifle.  We should do much better, masser
Mordy, but'e'squire so werry backward about lettin'e men
shoot'em'ere squatter! Gosh! masser Mordy, if he onry
say' fire' when I want him, I don't t'ink so much as half a
one get off."
" It is best as it is, Jaap. We are at peace, and in the
bosom of our country; and bloodshed is to be avoided."
" Yes, sah; but Chainbearer! If'ey don't like bloodshed, why'ey shoot him, sah?"
"There is a feeling of justice in what you say, Jaap, but
the community cannot get on in anything like safety unless
we let the law rule. Our business was to take those squat.
tors, and to hand them over to the law."
" Werry true, sah. Nobody can't deny dat, masser Mordy, but he nodder seize nor shot; now! Sartain, it best to
do one or t'odder with sich rascal. Well, I t'ink dat Tobit,
as dey calls him, will remember Jaap Satanstoe long as he
live. Dat a good t'ing, any way!"
"Good!" exclaimed the Onondago, with energy.
T saw it was useless, then, to discuss abstract principles
with men so purely practical as my two companions, and I
left the house to reconnoitre, ere I returned to our hospital
for the night. The negro followed me, and I questioned
him as to the manner of the attack, and the direction of the
33




386           T HE CHAI N  EAR  R.
retreat of the squatters, in order to ascertain what danger
there might be during the hours of darkness.'Jaap gave
me to understand that the men of Thousandacres' family
had retired by the way of the stream, profiting by the de
clivity to place themselves under cover as soon as possible
As respects the women and children, they must have got
into the woods at some other point, and it was probable the
whole had sou ght some place of retreat that would naturally
have been previously appointed by those who knew that
they lived in the constant danger of requiring one. Jaap
was very certain we should see no more of the men, and in
that he was perfectly right. No more was ever seen of any
one of them all in that part of the country, thoigh rumours
reached us, in the course of time, from someof the more
western counties, that Tobit had been seen there, a cripple,
as I have already stated, but maintaining his old character
for lawlessness and disregard of the rights of others.
I next returned to Frank Malbone, who still stood on post
at no great distance from the door, through which we could
both see the form and features of his beautiful and beloved
sister. Dus sat by her uncle's bed-side, while Prudence had
stationed herself by that of her husband.. Frank and x advanced near the door, and looked in upon the solemn and
singular sight that room afforded. It was indeed a strange
and sad spectacle; to see those two aged men, each with his
thin locks whitened by seventy years, drawing near their
ends, the victims of lawless violence; for, while the death
of Thousandacres was enveloped in a certain mystery, and
might by some eyes be viewed as merited and legal, there
could be no doubt that it was a direct consequence of the
previous murder of Chainbearer. It is in this way that
wrong extends and sometimes perpetuates its influence,
proving the necessity of taking time by the forelock, and
resorting to prevention in the earliest stages of the evil,
instead of cure.
There lay the two victims of the false principles that the
physical condition of the country, connected with its passive
endurance cf encroachments on the right, had gradually
permitted to grow up among us. Squatting was a conse.
quence of the thinness of the population and of the abun.
dance of land, the two very circumstances that rendered it the




T'HE CHAIN BEARER.                   387
less justifiable in a moral point of view; but which, by
rendering the one side careless of its rights, and the other
proportionably encroaching,,had gradually led, not only to
this violation of law, but to the adoption of notions that are
adverse to the supremacy of law in any case. It is this
gradual undermining of just opinions that forms the immi.
nent danger of our social system; a spurious philanthropy
on the subject of punishments, false notions on that of personal rights, and the substitution of numbers for principles,
bidding fair to produce much the most important revolution
that has ever yet taken place on the American continent.
The lover of real liberty, under such circumstances, should
never forget that the road to despotism lies along the borders
of the slough of licentiousness, even when it escapes wallowing in its depths.
When Malbone and myself drew back from gazing on
the scene within the house, he related to me in detail all that
was connected with his own proceedings. The reader knopvs
that it was by means of a meeting in the forest, between
the Indian and the negro, that my friends first became acquainted with my arrest, and the probable danger in which
I was placed. Chainbearer, Dus, and Jaap instantly repaired
to the clearing of Thousandacres; while Malbone hastened
on to Ravensnest, in pursuit of legal aid, and of a force to
render my rescue certain. Meditating on all the facts of
the case, and entertaining most probably an exaggerated
notion of the malignant character of Thousandacres, by the
time he reached the-Nest, my new friend was in a most
feverish state of excitement. His first act was, to write a.
brief statement of the facts to my father, land to despatch
his letter by a special messenger, with orders. to him to push
on for' Fishkill, all the family being there at the time, on a
visit to the Kettletases; proceeding by land or by water, as
the wind might favour. I was startled at this information,
foreseeing at once that it would bring not only the general
himself, but my dear mother and Kate, with Tom Bayard
quite likely in'her train, post haste to Ravensnest. It might
even cause my excellent old grandmother to venture so far
from home.; for my last letters had apprised me that they
were all on the point of visiting my sister Anneke, which




3t8           T HE CHAINBEARER.
was the way Frank had learned where the family was to be
found.
As Malbone's messenger had left the Nest early the pre.
ceding night, and the wind had been all day fresh at north,
it came quite within the bounds of possibility that he might
be at Fishkill at the very moment I was listening to the
history of his message. The distance was about a hundred
and forty miles, and nearly one hundred of it could be made
by water. Such a messenger would care but little for the
accommodations of his craft; and, on the supposition that
he reached Albany that morning, and found a sloop ready
to profit by the breeze, as would be likely to occur, it would
be quite in rule to reach the landing at Fishkill in the course
of the evening, aided by the little gale that had been blowing.
I knew General Littlepage too well, to doubt either his affec.
tion or his promptitude.  Albany could be reached in a day
by land, and Ravensnest in another.  I made my account,
therefore, to see a part if not all of the family at the Nest,
as soon as I should reach it myself; an event not likely to
occur, however, for some little time, on account of the condition of Chainbearer.
I shall not deny that this new state of things, with the
expectations connected with it, gave me sufficient food for
reflection.  I could not and did not blame Frank Malbone
for what he had done, since it was natural and proper.
Notwithstanding, it would precipitate matters as regarded
my relations to Dus a little faster than I could have wished.
I desired time to sound my family on the important subject
of my marriage —to let the three or four letters I had already
written, and in which she had been mentioned in a marked
manner, produce their effect; and I counted largely on the
support I was to receive through the friendship and representations of Miss Bayard.  I felt certain that deep disap.
pointment on the subject of Pris. would be felt by the whole
family; and it was my wish not to introduce Ursula to their
acquaintance until time had a little lessened its feeling.  But
things must now take their course; and my determination
was settled.to deal as sincerely and simply as possible with
my parents on the subject. I knew their deep affection for
me, and relied strongly on that natural support.
I had half an hour's conversation with Dus while walking




THE C 1        A I N    A  ER.      389
in front of the hospital that night, Frank taking his sister's
place by the side of Chainbearer's bed. Then it was that 1
again spoke of my hopes, and explained the probabilities of
our seeing all of my immediate family so shortly at Ravensnest. My arm was round the waist of the dear girl as I
communicated these facts; and I felt her tremble, as if she
dreaded the trial she was to undergo.
"This is very sudden and unexpected, Mordaunt," Dus
remarked, after she had had a little time to recover her
recollection; " and I have so much reason to fear the judgment of your respectable parents-of your charming sister,
of whom I have heard so often through Priscilla Bayard —
and indeed of all who have lived, as they have done, amid
the elegancies of a refined state of society; I, Dus Malbone
-a chainbearer's niece, and a chainbearer myself!"
" You have never borne any chain, love, that is as lasting
or as strong as that which you have entwined around my
heart, and which will for ever bind me to you, let the rest
of the world regard us both as it may. But you can have
nothing to fear from any, and least of all from my friends.
My father is not worldly-minded; and as for my dear, dear
mother, Anneke Mordaunt, as the general even now often
affectionately calls her, as if the name itself reminded him
of the days of her.maiden loveliness and pride —as for that
beloved mother, Ursula, I do firmly believe that, when she
comes to know you, she will -even prefer you to her son."
" That is a picture of your blinded partiality, Mordaunt,"
answered the gratified girl, for gratified I could see she was,
"and must not be too fondly relied on. But this is no time
to talk of our own future happiness, when the eternal happiness or misery of those two aged men is suspended, as it
might be, by a thread.  I have read prayers once already
with my dear uncle; and that strange woman, in whom
there is so much of her sex mingled with a species of ferocity like that of a she-bear, has muttered a hope that her
own' dying man,' as she calls him, is not to be forgotten.
I have promised he should not be, and it is time to attend to
that duty next."
What a scene followed! Dus placed the light on a chest
oear the bed of Thousandacres, and, with the prayer-book
*n her hand, she knelt beside it. Prudence stationed herself
33*




390            THE  CHAINBEAREIt.
in such a posture that her head was buried in one of her
own garments, that was suspended from a peg; and there
she stood, while the melodious voice of Ursula Malbone
poured out the petitions contained in the offices for the
dying, in humble but fervent piety.  I say stood, for neither
Prudence nor Lowiny knelt.  The captious temper of self.
righteousness which had led their ancestors to reject kneel.
ing at prayers as the act of formalists,,ad descended to
them; and there they stood, praying doubtless in their
hearts, but ungracious formalists themselves in their zeal
against forms.  Frank and I knelt in the door-way; and I
can truly affirm that never did prayvers sound so sweetly in
my ears, as those which then issued from the lips of Ursula
Malbone.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
" Thence cum we to the horrour and the hel,
The large great kyngdomes, and the dreadful raygne
Of Pluto in his trone where he dyd dwell,
The wyde waste places, and the hugye playne:
The waylings, shrykes, and sundry sortes of payne,
The syghes, and sobbes, the diep and deadly groane,
Earth, ayer, and all resounding playnt and moane.
SAcKVILXi.
IN this manner did that memorable night wear away.
The two wounded men slumbered much of the time; nor
did their wants extend beyond occasional draughts of water,
to cool their feverish mouths, or the wetting of lips. I pre.
vailed on Dus to lie down on the bed of Lowiny, and try to
get a little rest; and I had the pleasure to hear her gay that
she had slept sweetly for two or three hours, after the turn
of the night. Frank and I caught naps, also, after the
fashion of soldiers, and Lowiny slept in her chair, or leaning
on her father's bed.  As for Prudence, I do not think -her
watchfiulness was lessened for a single instant.  There she
sat the live-long night; silent, tearless, moody, and heart.
stricken by the great and sudden calamity that had befallen




T HE CAIN B E A RER.                39
her race, but vigilant and attentive to the least movement in
the huge frame of her wounded partner. No complaint
escaped her; scarcely once did she turn to look at what
was going on around her, nor in any manner did she heed
aught butt her husband. To him she seemed to be unerringly true; and whatever she may, and must have thought
of his natural sternness, and occasional fits of severity towards herself, all now seemed to be forgotten..
At length light returned, after hours of darkness that
seemed to me to be protracted to an unusual length. Then
it was, when Jaap and the Indian were ready to take our
places on the watch, that Frank and I went to one of the
huts and lay down for two or three hours; and that was the
time when Dus got her sweetest and most refreshing sleep.
Lowiny prepared our morning's meal for us; which we
three, that is; Dus, Frank and myself, took together in the
best Way we could, in the dwelling of Tobit.  As for squire
Newcome, he left the clearing in the course of the night, or
very early in the morning, doubtless exceedingly uneasy in
his conscience, but still uncertain whether his connection
with the squatters was, or was not known to me: the
excuse for this movement being the probable necessity of
summoning a jury; Mr. Jason Newcome filling in his own
person, or by deputy, the several offices and functions of
justice of the peace, one of the coroners of the county, supervisor of the township of Ravensnest, merchant, shopkeeper,
miller, lumber-dealer, husbandman and innkeeper; to say
nothing of the fact that he wrote all the wills of the neighbourhood; was a standing arbitrator when disputes were' left out to men;' was a leading politician, a, patriot by
trade, and a remarkable and steady advocate of the rights
of the people, even to minutiae. Those who know mankind
will not be surprised, after this enumeration of his pursuits
and professions, to hear it added that he was a remarkable
rogue in the bargain.
There are two things I have lived long enough to receive
as truth established by my own experience, and they are
these: I never knew a man who made large professions of
a love for the people, and of his wish to serve them on all
occasions, whose aim was not to deceive them to his own
dvantage; and the other is, that I never knew a man who




392           TIME  CHAINBEARER.
was compelled to come much in contact with the people, and
who at the same time was personally popular, who had any.
thing in him, at the bottom. But it is time to quit Jason Newcome and his defects of character, in order to attend to the
interesting scene that awaited us in the dwelling of Thou.
sandacres, and to which we were now summoned by Jaap.
As the day advanced, both the chainbearer and the squat
ter became aroused from the languor that had succeeded the
receiving of their respective hurts, and more or less alive to
what was passing around them. Life was ebbing fast in
both, yet each seemed, just at that moment, to turn his
thoughts backward on the world, in order, as it might be, to
take a last look at those scenes in which he had now been
an actor for the long period of three-score and ten years.
" Uncle Chainbearer is much revived, just now," said Dus
meeting Frank and myself at the door, " and he has asked
for you both; more especially for Mordaunt, whose name
he has mentioned three several times within the last five
minutes.'Send for Mordaunt, my child;' he has said to
me,' for I wish to speak with him before I quit you.' I am
fearful he has inward admonitions of his approaching end."
"That is possible, dearest Ursula; for men can hardly
lose their hold of life without being aware of the approaches
of death. I will go at once to his bedside, that he may know
I am here. It is best to let his own feelings decide whether
he is able or not to c.onverse."
The sound of Chainbearer's voice, speaking in a low but
distinct tone, caught our ears as we approached him, and
we all stopped to listen.
" I say, T'ousantacres," repeated Andries, on a key.a
little louder than before, " if you hear me, olt man, ant can
answer, I wish you to let me know it. You ant I pe apout
to start on a fery long journey, ant it ist unreasonaple, as
well as wicket, to set out wit' pad feelin's at t'e heart. If
you hat hat a niece, now. like Dus t'ere, to tell you t'ese
matters, olt Aaron, it mighit pe petter for your soul in t'e
worlt into which we are pot)i apout to enter."
" He knows it-I'm sur- he knows it, and feels it, too,"
muttered Prudence, rocking her body as beforo. "'lie has
had pious forefathers, and cannot have fallen w  fan'  way
fr'om grace, as to forget deatfi anx vxrtvY.'




THE CHAINBEARER.                     393
"Look you, Prutence, Aaron nefer coult fall away from
what he nefer wast fastenet to.  As for pious forefat'ers,
t'ey may do to talk apout in Fourt' of July orations, put
L'ey are of no great account in cleansin' a man from  his
sins.  I s'pose t'em  pious forefat'ers of which you speak
wast t'e people t'at first steppet on t'e Rock town at Plymout'; put, let me telt'you, Prutence, hat t'ere peen twice
as many of t'em, and hat t'ey all peen twice as goot as you
poast of t'eir hafin' peen, it wilt do no goot to your man,
untless he wilt repent, and pe sorry for all t'e unlawful ant
wicket t'ings he hast tone in t'is worlt, ant his treatment of
pountaries in jin'ral, ant of ot'ers men's lants in partic'lar.
Pious ancestors may pe pleasant to haf, put goot pehaviour
ist far petter as t'e last hour approaches."
" Answer him, Aaron," the wife rejoined —" answer him'
my man, in order that we may all on us know the frame
of mind in which you take your departure. Chainbearer
is a kind-hearted man at the bottom, -aui has never wilfully
done us any harm."
For the first time since Andries received his wound, I
now heard the voice of Thousandacres. Previously to that
moment, the squatter. whether hurt or not, had sat in moody
silence, and I had supposed after he was wounded that he
was unable to use his tongue. To my surprise, however,
he now spoke with a depth and strength of voice that at
first misled me, by inducing me to think that the injury he
had received could not be fiatal.
"If there wasn't no chainbearers," growled Thousandacres, " there wouldn't be no lines, or metes, and bounds, as
they call'em; and where there's no metes'and bounds,
there can be no right but possession. If't wasn't for your
writin' titles, I shouldn't be lyin' here, breathin' my last."
"Forgive it all, my man; forgive it all, as behooves a
good christian," Prudence returned to this characteristic
glance at the past, in which the squatter had so clearly
overlooked all his own delinquencies, and was anxious to
Impute consequences altogether to others.  "It is the law
of God to forgive your enemies, Aaron, and I want you to
forgive Chainbearer, and not go to the world bf spirits with
-all in your heart."
"'Twoult pe much petter, Prutence, if T'ousantacres




394           THE CHIAINBEARER.
woult pray to Got to forgif himself," put in Chainbearel.
" I am fery willin', ant happy to haf t'e forgifness of efery
man, ant it ist not unlikely t'at I may haf tone somet'ing,
or sait somet'ing t'at hast peen hart to t'e feelin's of your
huspant; for we are rough, and plain-speakin', and plainactin' enough, in t'e woots; so I'm  willin' to haf even
T'ousantacres' forgifness, I say, and'wilt aGcept it wit' plea.
sure if he wilt offer it, ant take mine in exchange."
A deep groan struggled out of the broad, cavern-like
chest of the squatter.  I took it as an admission that he
was the murderer of Andries.
"Yes," resumed Chainbearer, —" Dus hast mate me
see-"
"Uncle!" exclaimed Ursula, who was intently listening,
and who now spoke because unable to restrain the impulse.
"Yes, yes, gal, it hast peen all your own toin's.  Pefore
ast you come pack from school, ast we come into t'e woots,
all alone like, you haf nefer forgotten to teach an olt, forgetful man his tuty."
"Oh! uncle Chainbearer, it is not I, but God in his
mercy who has enlightened your understanding and touched
your heart."
" Yes, tarlin'; yes, Dus, my tear, I comprehent t'at too;
but Got in his mercy sent an angel to pe his minister on'art' wit' a poor ignorant Tutchman, who hast not t'e l'arnin' ant t'e grace he might ant ought to have hat, wit'out
your ait, and so hast t'e happy change come apout. Nonb-T'ousantacres, I wilt not tespise even your forgifness,
little as you may haf to forgif; for it lightens a man's
heart of heafy loats, when his time is short, to know he
leafs no enemies pehint him. T'ey say it ist pest to haf
t'e goot wishes of a tog, ant how much petter ist it to haf t'e
goot wishes of one who hast a soul t'at only wants purifyin', to twell in t'e Almighty's presence t'roughout eterpity!"
"II hope anrd believe," again growled Thousandacres,
" that in the world we're goin' to, there'11 be no law, and
no attorneys."
" In t'at, t'en, Aaron, you pe greatly mistaken. T'at lant
is all law, ant justice, ant right; t'ough, Got (forgif me if I




THE CHAINBEARER.                    395
in any man an injury, put to pe frank wit' you, as pecomes
wts mortals so near t'eir ents, I do not pelieve, myself, t'at
"ere wilt pe a great many attorneys to trouple t'em t'at are
receivet into t'e courts of t'e Almighty, himself.  T'eir
practices on'arth does not suit t'em for practice in heafen.'
"If you'd always held them  rational notions, Chainbearer, no harm might have come to you, and my life and.your'n been spared.  But-this is a state of being in which
short-sightedness prevails ag'in the best calkerlations.  I
never felt more sure of gittin' lumber to market than I felt,
three days ago, of gittin' this that's in the creek, safe to
Albany; and, now, you see how it is! the b'ys are dis.
parsed; and may never see this spot ag'in; the gals are in
the woods, runnin' with the deer of the forest; the lumber
has fallen into the hands of' the law; and that, too, by the
aid of a man that was bound in honesty to protect me, and
I'm dyin' here!"
" Think no more of the lumber, my man, think no more
of the lumber," said Prudence, earnestly; "time is desp'rate
short at the best, and yours is shorter than common, even
for a man of seventy, while etarnity has no eend.  Forgit
the boards, and forgit the b'ys, and forgit the gals, forgit'arth and all it holds!- "
" You wouldn't have me forgit you, Prudence," interrupted
Thousandacres, " that's been my wife, now, forty long
years, and whom I tuck when she was young and comely,
and that's borne me so many children, and has always been
a faithful and hard-working woman-you wouldn't have me
forget you!"
This singular appeal, coming as it did from such a being,
and almost in his agony, sounded strangely and solemnly,
amid the wild and semi-savage appliances of a scene I can
never: forget. The effect on Ursula was still' more apparent;
she left the bed-side of her-uncle, and with strong womanly
sympathy manifested in her countenance, approached that
of this aged couple, now about to be separated for a short
time, at least, where she stood gazing wistfully at the very
man who was probably that uncle's murderer, as if she
could gladly administer to his moral ailings.  Even Chainbearer attempted to raise his head, and looked with interest
towards the other group. Nc one spoke, however, for all




396           THIE CIIAIN BEARlER.
felt that the solemn recollections and lorebodings of a pat
so situated, were too sacred for interruption.  The diseourse
went on, without any hiatus, between them.
"Not I, not 1, Aaron, my man," answered Pruience,
with strong emotion struggling in her voice; "there can be
no law, or call for that. We are one flesh, and what God
has j'ined, God will not keep asunder long. I cannot tarry
long behind you, my man, and when we meet together
ag'in, I hope'twill be where no boards, or trees, or acres,
can ever make more trouble for us!"
" I've been hardly treated about that lumber, a'ter all,"
muttered the squatter, who was now apparently more aroused
to consciousness than he had been, and who could not but
keep harping on what had been the one great business of his
life, even as that life was crumbling beneath his feet"' hardly dealt by, do I consider myself, about that lumber,
Prudence.  Make the most of the Littlepage rights, it was
only trees that they could any way claim, in reason; while
the b'ys and I, as you well know, have converted them trees
into as pretty and noble a lot of han'some boards and
planks, as man ever rafted to market!"
"It's convarsion of another natur' that you want now,
Aaron, my man; another sort of convarsion is the thing
needful.  We must all be converted once in our lives; at
least all such as be the children of Puritan parents and a
godly ancestry; and it must be owned, takin' into account
our years, and the importance of example in sich a family
as our'n, that you and I have put it off long enough. Come
it must, or suthin' worse; and time and etarnity in your
case, Aaron, is pretty much the same thing."
" I should die easier in mind, Prudence, if Chainbearer
would only admit that the man who chops, and hauls, and
saws, and rafts a tree, doos get some sort of a right, nat'ral
or legal, to the lumber."
" I'm sorry, T'ousantacres.," put in Andries, "t'at you
feel any such atmission from me necessary to you at t'is
awfuil moment, since I nefer can make it ast an honest man.
You hat petter listen to your wife, ant get confarted if you
can, ant as soon ast you can. You ant I haf put a few
hours to lif; I am an olt soltier, T'ousantacres, ant haf seen
more t'an t'ree t'ousant men shot town in my-own ranks, to




THE CHAINBEAIRER.                      397
my nut'in' of t'e ranks of t'e enemy; ant wit' so much ex.
per'ence a man comes to know a little apout-wounts ant
teir tarminations.  I gif it ast my chugement, t'erefore, t'at
neit'er of us can haf t'e smallest hope to lif t'rough t'e next
night.  So get t'at confarsion as hastily ant ast well ast you
can, for t'ere ist little time to lose, ant you a squatter! T'"is
ist t'e moment of all ot'ers, T'ousantacres, to proofe t'e true
falue of professions, ant trates, ant callin's, as well ast of
t'e manner in which t'eir tuties haf peen fulfillet. I may
pe more honouraple ant more profitaple to pe a calculating
surfeyor, ant to unterstant arit'metic, ant- to pe talket of in
t'e worlt for work tone on a large scale; put efbn His Excellency himself, when he comes to t'e last moment, may pe
glat t'at t'e temptations of such l'arnin', ant his pein' so t'o.
roughly an honest man, toes not make him enfy t'e state of
a poor chainpearer; who, if he-titn't know much, ant coultn't
do much, at least measuret t'e lant wit' fitelity, ant tid his
work ast well ast he knew how. Yes, yes, olt Aaron; get
confartet, I tell you; ant shoult.Prutence not know enough.of religion ant her piple, ant of prayin' to Got to haf marcy
on your soul, t'ere ist Dus Malpone, my niece, who unterstants, ant what ist far petter, who feels t'ese matters, quite
as well ast most tominies, ant petter t'an some lazy ant selfish ones t'at I know, who treat t'eir flocks as if t'e Lort
meant t'ey wast to pe shearet only, ant who wast too lazy
to do much more t'an to keep cryin' out-not in t'e worts
of t'e inspiret writer,-' watchman, what of t'e night?'-' watchman, what of t'e night?'-put,' my pelovet, ant most
christian, ant gotly-mintet people, pay, pay, pay!' Yes,
t'ere ist too much of such afarice ant selfishness in t'e worlt,
ant it toes harm to t'e cause of t'e Safiour; put trut' is so
clear, ant peautiful an opject, my poor Aaron, t'at efen lies,
ant fie, ant all manner of wicketnesses cannot long sully
it.  Take my atvice, ant talk to Dus; ant t'ough you wilt
touptless continue to grow worse in poty, you wilt grow
petter in spirit."
Tnousandacres turned his grim visage round, and gazed
intently and wistfully towards Ursula.  I saw the struggle
that was going on within, through the clear mirror of the
sweet, ingenuous face of my beloved, and I saw the pro34




398           THE CHAINBEARER.
priety of ret ring. Frank Malbone understood my look, and
we left the house together, closing the door behind us.
Two, to me, long and anxious hours succeeded, during
most of which time my companion and myself walked about
tile clearing, questioning the men who composed the posse,
and hearing their reports.  These men were in earnest in
what they were doing; for a respect for law is a distinguishing trait in the American character, and perhaps more so in
New.England, whence most of these people came, than in
any other part of the country; the rascality of'Squire
Newcome to the contrary, notwithstanding. Some observers
pretend that this respect for law is gradually decreasing
among us, and that in its place is sensibly growing up a
disposition to substitute the opinions, wishes, and interests
of local majorities, making the country subject to men instead of principles. The last are eternal and immutable;
and, coming of God, men, however unanimous in sentiment,
have no more right to attempt to change them, than to blaspheme His holy name. All that the most exalted and largest
political liberty can ever beneficially effect is, to apply these
principles to the good of the human race, in the management
of their daily affairs; but, when they attempt to substitute
for these pure and just rules of right, laws conceived in
selfishness and executed by the power of numbers, they
merely exhibit tyranny in its popular form, instead of in its
old aspect of kingly or aristocratic abuses.  It is a fatal
mistake to fancy, that freedom is gained by the mere achieve.
ment of a right in the people to govern, unless the manner
in which that right is to be both understood and practised,
is closely incorporated with all the popular notions of what
has been obtained. That right to govern means no more,
than the right of the people to avail themselves of the power
thus acquired, to apply the great principles of justice to
their own benefit, and from the possession of which they had
hitherto been excluded. It confers no power to do that
which is inherently wrong, under any pretence whatever;
nor would anything have been gained, had America, as soon
as she relieved herself from a sway that diverted so many
of her energies to the increase of the wealth and influence
of a distant people, gone to work to frame a new polity
which should inflict similar wrongs withie her own bosom.




THE  C HAINBEARER.                   399
My old acquaintance, the hearty Rhode Islander, was one
of the posse; and I had a short conversation with him,
while thus kept out of the house, which may serve to let the
reader somewhat into the secret of the state of things at the
clearing. We met near the mill, when my acquaintance,
whose name was Hosmer, commenced a, follows:
"A good day to you, major, and a hearty welcome to theopen air!" cried the sturdy yeoman, frankly but respectfully,
offering his hand.  "You fell intona pit here, or into a den
among thieves; and it's downright providential you ever
saw and breathed the clear air ag'in! Wa-a-I, I've been
trailin' a little this mornin', along with the Injin; and no
hound has a more sartain scent than he has.  We went
into the hollow along the creek; and a desp'rate sight of
boards them varmints have got into the water, I can tell you!
If the lot's worth forty pounds York, it must be worth -every
shilling of five hundred.  They'd a made their fortin's,
every blackguard among'em.  I don't know but I'd fit
myself to save so many boards, and sich beautiful boards,
whether wrongfully or rightfully lumbered!"
Here the hearty old fellow stopped to laugh, which he did
exactly in the full-mouthed, contented way in which he spoke
and did everything else.  I profited by the occasion to put
in a word in reply.
" You are too honest a man, major, to think of ever mak.
ing your boards out of another man's trees," I answered.
"This people have lived by dishonest practices all their
lives, and any one can see what it has come to."
"Yes, I hope I am,'squire Littlepage-I'do hope I am.
Hard work and I an't no how afeard or each other; and
so long as a man can work, and will. work, Satan don't
get a full grip on him. But, as I was sayin', the Trackless struck the trail down the creek, though it was along a
somewhat beaten path; but that Lojin would make no:nore of findin' it in a highway, than you ffnd I would of
findin' our places in the Bible on Sabba'day, where we had
left off the Sabba'day that was gone. I always mark mine
with a string the old woman braided for me on purpose, and
a right down good method it is; for, while you're s'archin'
for your specs with one hand, nothin' is easier than to open
the Bible with t'other. Them's handy things to have, major:




400           THE CHAINB EAR E R.
and, when you marry some great lady down at York, sich
a one as your own mother was, for I know'd her and honoured her, as we all did hereaway-but, when you get
married, ask your wife to braid a string for you, to find the
place in the Bible with, and all will go right, take an old
man's word for it."
"I thank you, friend, and will remember the advice,
even though I might happen to marry a lady in this part
of the world, and not down in York."
"This part of the world? No, we've got nobody our
way, that's good enough for you. Let me see; Newcome
has a da'ghter that's old enough, but she's desp'rate humbly
(Anglise, homely —the people of New England reserve'ugly' for moral qualities) and wouldn't suit, no how. I
don't think the Littlepages would overmuch like being warp
and fillin' with the Newcomes."
" No! My father was an old friend —or, an old acquaint.
ance at least, of Mr. Newcome's, and must know and ap.
preciate his merits."
"Yes- yes-I'll warrant ye the gin'ral knows him
Wa-a-l! Human natur' is human natur'; and I do s'pose,
if truth must be spoken, none on us be half as good as we
ought to be. We read about faithful stewards in the good
book, and about onfaithful ones too, squire"-here, the old
yeoman stopped to indulge in one of his hearty laughs, ren.
dering it manifest he felt the full application of his words.
"Wa-a-I, all must allow the bible's a good book.  I never
open it, without l'arnin' suthin', and what I l'arn, I strive
not to forgit. But there's a messenger for you, major, from
Thousandacres' hut, and I fancy't will turn out that he or
Chainbearer is drawing near his eend."
Lowiny was coming to summon us to the house, sure
enough, and I took my leave of my brother major for the
moment. It was plaiL to me that this-honest-minded yeoman, a good specimen of his class, saw through Newcome
and his tricks, and was not unwilling to advert to them.
Nevertheless, this man had a fault, and one very characteristic of his " order." He could not speak directly, but
would hint round a subject, instead of coming out at once,
and telling what he had to say; beating the bush to start
his game, when he might have put it up at once, by going




THE CHAINBuAR ER.                    40O
in at it directly. Before we parted, he gave me to under.
stand that Susquesus and my fellow, Jaap, had gone on in
pursuit of the retreating squatters, intending to follow their
trail several miles, in order to make sure that Tobit and his
gang were not hanging around the clearing to watch their
property, ready to strike a blow when it might be least expected.
Dus met me at the door of the cabin, tearful and sad, bui
with such a holy calm reigning in her generally brilliant
countenance, as denoted the nature of the solemn business
in which she had just been engaged. She extended both
hands to meet mine, and whispered, " Uncle Chainbearer is
anxious to speak to us-on the subject of our engagement, I
think it is." A tremour passed through the frame of Ursula,
but she made an effort, smiled sadly, and continued: " Hear
him patiently, dear Mordaunt, and remember that he is my
father, in one sense, and as fully entitled to my obedience
and respect as if I were really his daughter."
As I entered the room, I could see that Dus had been at
prayer. Prudence looked comforted, but Thousandacres,
himself, had a wild and uncertain expression of countenance,
as if doubts had begun to beset him, at the very moment
when they must have been the most tormenting. I observed
that his anxious eye followed the form of Dus, and that he
gazed on her as one would be apt to regard the being who
had just been the instrument of awakening within him the
consciousness of his critical state. But my attention was
soon drawn to the other bed.
"Come near me, Mortaunt, lat; ant come hit'er, Dus, my
tearest ta'ghter ant niece. I haf a few worts of importance
to say to you, pefore I go, ant if t'ey pe not sait now, t'ey
nefer may pe salt at all. It's always pest to' take time py
t'e forelock,' t'ey say; ant surely I cannot pe callet in haste
to speak, when not only one foot, put pot' feet and half my
poty, in t'e pargain, may well pe sait to pe in t'e grafe.
Now listen to an olt man's atfice, ant do not stop my worts
until all haf peen spoken, for I grow weas fast, ant haf not
strength enough to t'row away any of it in argument.
"Mortaunt hast sait ast much, in my hearin', ast to atmit
at he lofes ant atmires my gal, ant t'at he wishes, ant
hopes, ant expects to make her his wife. On t'e ot'er hant,
34*




402           THE C IAINB.EAR  R.
Ursula, or Dus, my niece, confesses ant acknowletges t'at
she lofes, ant esteems, ant hast a strong regart for Mortaunt,
ant ist willing to pecome his wife. All t'is ist nat'ral, ant
t'ere wast a time when it woult haf mate me ast happy ast
t'e tay ist long to hear as much! sait by t'e one or t'e.ot'er
of t'e parties. You know, my chiltren, t'at my affection for
you ist equal, ant t'at I consiter you, in all respects put t'at
of worltly contition, to pe as well suitet to pecome man ant
wife ast any young couple in America.  Put tuty is tuty,.ant it must pe tischarget. General Littlepage wast my olt
colonel; ant, an honest ant an honouraple man himself, he
hast efery right to expect t'at efery one of his former captains, in partic'lar, woult do unto him as t'ey woult haf him
do unto t'em. Now, t'ough heafen ist heafen, t'is worlt
must pe regartet.as t'is worlt, ant t'e rules. for its gofernment are to pe respectet in t'eir place. T'e Malpones pe a
respectaple family, I know; ant t'ough Dus' own fat'er wast
a little wilt, ant t'oughtless, ant extrafagant-  "
"Uncle Chainbearer!"
" True, gal, true; he wast your fat'er, ant t'e chilt shoult
respect its parent. I atmit t'at, ant wilt say no-more t'an
ist apsolutely necessary; pesites, if Malpone hat his pat
qualities, he hat his goot.  A hantsomer man coult not pe
fount, far ant near. ast my poor sister felt, I dares to say;
ant he wast prave as a pull-dog, ant generous, ant gootnaturet, ant many persons was quite captivatet by all t'ese
showy atfantages, ant t'ought him petter ast he really wast.
Yes, yes, Dus, my chilt, he hat his goot qualities, as well
ast his pat.  Put, t'e Malpones pe gentlemen, as ist seen py
Frank, Dus' prother, ant py ot'er mempers of t'e family.
T'en my mot'er's family,' py which I am relatet to Dus,
wast very goot-even petter t'an t'e Coejemans-and t'e
gal is a gentlewoman py pirt'. No one can deny t'at; put
ploot won't do efery t'ing. Chiltren must pe fet, and clot'et;
ant money ist necessary, a'ter all, for t'e harmony ant comfort of families.  I know Matam  Littlepage, in partic'lar.
She ist a da'ter of olt Harman Mortaunt, who wast a grant
gentleman in t'e lant, ant t'e owner of Ravensnest, ast well
ast of ot'er estates, ant who kept t'e highest company in t'e
profince. Now Matam Littlepage, who hast peen t'us born,
ant etucatet, ant associatet, may not like t'e itee of hafin




THE  CHAINBEARER.                    403
Dus Malpone, a chainpearer's niece, ant a gal t'at hast peen
chainpearer herself, for which I honour ant lofe her so much
t'e more, Mortaunt, lat; put for which an ill-chutgin' worlt
wilt despise her —-— "
" Rly mother-my noble-hearted, right-judging and rightfeeling mother-never!" I exclaimed, in a burst of feeling
I found it impossible to control.
My words, manner and earnestness produced a profound
impression on my auditors. A gleam of pained delight shot
into and.out of'the countenance of Ursula, like the passage
of the electric spark. Chainbearer gazed on me intently,
and it was easy to trace, in the expression of his face, the
deep interest he felt ii my words, and the importance he attached to them. As for Frank Malbone, he fairly turned
away to conceal the tears that forced themselves from his
eyes.
" If I coult t'ink ast much-if I coult hope ast much, Mortaunt," resumed Chainbearer, " it woult pe a plesset relief
to my partin' spirit, for I know general Littlepage well
enough to pe sartain t'at he ist a just ant a right-mintet man,
ant t'at, in t'e long run, he woult see matters ast he ought
to see t'em.  Wit' Matam Littlepage I fearet it wast tifferent; for I haf always hearet tat t'e Mortaunts was tifferent
people, ant felt ast toppin' people commonly do feel. T'is
makes some change in my itees, ant some change in my
plans.  Howesefer, my young frients, I haf now to ask of
you each a promise-a solemn promise mate to a tyin' manant it ist t'is    "
" First hear me, Chainbearer," I interposed eagerly, "be.
fore you involve Ursula heedlessly, and I had almost said
cruelly, in any incautious promise, that may make both our
lives miserable hereafter. You, yourself, first invited, tempted, courted me to love her; and now, when I know and
confess her worth, you throw ice on my flame, and command me to do that of which it is too late to think."
"I own It, I own it, lat, ant hope t'e Lort, in his great
marcy, wilt forgif ant parton t'e great mistake. I mate. We
Xaf talket of t'is pefore, Mortaunt, ant you may rememper
I tolt y:u it was Dus, herself, who first mate me see t'e trut'
in t'e matter, ant how much petter ant more pecomin' it wast




404          THE  CHAINBEARER.
in me to holt you pack, t'an to encourage ant leat you on.
How comes it, my tear gal, t'at you haf forgot all t'is, ant
now seem to wish me to do t'e fery t'ing you atviset me not
to do?"
Ursula's face became pale as death; then it flushed to the
brightness of a summer sunset, and she sank on her knees,
concealing her countenance in the coarse quilt of the bed,
as her truthful and ingenuous nature poured out her answer.
"Uncle Chainbearer," she said, " when we first talked on
this subject I had never seen Mordaunt."
I knelt at the side of Ursula, folded her to my bosom, and
endeavoured to express the profound sentiment of gratitude
that I felt at hearing this ingenuous explanation, by such
caresses as nature and feeling dictated.  Dus, however,
gently extricated herself from my arms, and rising, we both
stood waiting the effect of what had just been seen and heard
on Chainbearer.
"I see t'at natur' is stronger t'an reason, ant opinion, ant
custom," the old man resumed, after a long, meditative
pause-" I haf put little time to spent in t'is matter, housefer, my chiltren, ant must pring it to a close. Promise
me, pot' of you, t'at you will nefer marry wit'out t'e free
consent of General Littlepage, ant t'at of olt Matam Littlepage, ant young Matam Littlepage, each or all pein' lifin'."
"I do promise you, uncle Chainbearer," said Dus, with a
promptitude that I could hardly pardon -" I do promise
you, and will keep my promise, as I love you and fear and
honour my Maker.'T would be misery, to me, to enter a
family that was not willing to receive me —"
"Ursula!-Dearest-dearest Ursula-do you reflect!Am I, then, nothing in your eyes?"
"It would also be misery to live without you, Mordaunt —
but in one case I should be supported by a sense of having
discharged my duty; while in the other, all that went wrong
would appear a punishment for my own errors."
I would not promise; for, to own the truth, while I never
distrusted my father or mother for a single instant, I did
distrust my dear and venerable grandmother. I knew that
she had not only set her heart on my marrying Priscilla
Bayard; but that she had a passion for making matches in




TH'E CIAINBEARER.                    405
her own family; and I feared that she might have some of
the tenacity of old age in maintaining her opinions. Dus
endeavoured to prevail on me to promise; but I evaded the
pledge; and all solicitations were abandoned inll consequence
of a remark that was soon after made by Chainbearer.
"Nefer mint-nefer mint, darlint; your promise is
enough. So long as you pe true, what matters it w'et'er
Mortaunt is heatstrong or not?  Ant now, children, ast I
wish to talk no -more of t'e matters of t'is worlt, put to gif
all miy metitations ant language to t'e t'ings of Got, I wilt
utter my partin' worts to you. W'et'er you marry or not,
I pray Almighty Got to gif you his pest plessin's in t'is life,
ant in t'at which ist to come. Lif in sich a way, my tear
chiltren, as to pe aple to meet t'is awful moment, in which
you see me placed, wit' hope ant joy, so t'at we may all
meet hereafter in t'e courts of Heafen. Amen."
A short, solemn pause succeeded this benediction, when
it was interrupted by a fearful groan, that struggled out of
the broad chest of Thousandacres. All eyes were turned
on the other bed, which presented a most impressive contrast to the calm scene that surrounded the parting soul of
him about whom we had been gathered. I alone advanced
to the assistance of Prudence, who, woman-like, clung to
her husband to the last;' bone of his bone, and flesh of his
flesh.' I must own, however, that horror paralyzed mnylimbs; and that when I got as far as the foot of the squatter's bed, I stood riveted to the place like a rooted tree.
Thousandacres had been raised, by means of quilts, until,
half his body lay almost in a sitting position; a change he
had ordered during the previous scene.' His eyes were
open; ghastly, wandering, hopeless.  As the lips contractea
with the convulsive twitchings of death, they gave to his
grim visage a species of sardonic grin that rendered it
doubly terrific. At this moment a sullen calm came over
the countenance, and all was still. I knew that the last
breath remained to be drawn, and waited for it as the,rharmed bird gazes at the basilisk-eye of the snake. It came,
drawing aside the lips so as to show every tooth, and not
mne was missing in that iron frame; when, finding the sight
too frightful for even my nerves, I veiled my eyes. When
my hand wvas removed, I caught one glimpse of that dark




406           THE  CHAIN B LA tER.
tenement in which the spirit of the murderdr and squatter
had so long dwelt, Prudence being in the act of' closing the
glary, but still fiery eyes. I never before had looked upon
so revolting a corpse; and never wish to see its equal again.
CHIAPTER XXIX.' Mild as a babe reclines himself to rest,
And smiling sleeps upon the mother's breastTranquil, and with a patriarch's hope, he gave
ITis soul to heaven, his body to the grave.
HARTZ.
I SAW that neither Chainbearer nor Dus looked at the re.
volting object presented in the corpse of Thousandacres,
after that selfish and self-willed being ceased to live. I had
another hut prepared immediately for its reception, and the
body was removed to it without delay.  Thither Prudence
accompanied the senseless body;- and there she passed the
remainder of the day, and the whole of the succeeding
night, attended by Lowiny-with occasional offers of food
and assistance from the men of the posse.  Two or three
of the latter, carpenters by trade, made a coffin of pine,
and the body was placed in it in the customary manner.
Others dug a grave in the centre of one of those rough
fields that the squatter had appropriated *to his own uses,
thus making everything'ready for the interment, as soon as
the coroner, who had been.sent for, should have had his
sitting over the body.
The removal of the remains of Thousandacres left a soic
of holy calm in the cabin of Chainbearer. My old friend
was fast sinking; and he said but little. His consciousness
continued to the last,-and Dus was often at prayer with him
in the course of that day. Frank and I aided in doing the
duty of nurses; and we prevailed on Ursula to retire to
he loft,'and catch some rest, after her unwearying watch.
fulness. It was near sunset that old Andries again ad.




T IHE C    IN BE ARER.               401
dressed himself particularly to me, who was sitting at his
side, Dus being then asleep.
" I shalt lif till mornin', I now fint, Mortaunt," he said;
"put, let deat' come when it wilt, it ist sent py my Lort
ant Maker, ant it ist welcome.  Deat' hast no fears for
me."
" He never had, captain Coejemans, as the history of
your whole career in the army, shows."
" Yes, lat, t'ere wast a time when I shoult haf peen glat
to haf peen shot on t'e fielt, and to haf diet wit' Montgomery,
ant Laurens, ant Wooster, ant Warren, and sich like gallant heroes; put t'at ist all gone, now. I'm like a man t'at
hast peen walkin' over a wite plain, ant who hast come to
its tarmination, where he sees pefore him an entless apyss
into which he must next step. At sich a sight, lat, all t'e
trouples, an't lapours, ant tifficulties of t'e plain seem so
triflin', t'at t'ey pe forgotten. Mint, I do not wish to say
t'at eternity is an apyss to me in fears, ant pains, ant
tespair; for t'e gootness of Got hast enlightenet my mint
on t'at supject, ant hope, ant love, ant longin' for t'e pre-.
sence of my Maker, stant in t'eir places. Mortaunt, my lat,
pefore I quit you, I coult wish to say a coople of worts to
you on t'is sacret supject, if't will gif no offence?"
" Say all, and what you pkase, dear Chainbearer.  We
are friends of the camp and the field, and the advice of no
one could be more welcome to me than yours, given at a
moment as solemn and truthfuil as this."
" T'ank ye, Mortaunt; t'gnk ye wit' all my heart. You
know how it hast peen wit' me, since poyhoot; for often ant
often you ant I haf talket over t'ese t'ings in camp. I wast
t'rown young upon t'e worlt, ant wast left wit'out fat'er, or
mot'er, to pring myself up. An only chilt of my own
fat'er, for Dus comes from a half-sister you know, t'ere
wast no one to care for me in partic'lar, and I growet up in
great ignorance of t'e Lort of Hosts, ant my tuties to him,
ant to his plesset son, more ast anyt'ing else. Well, Mortaunt, you know how it ist in t'e woots, ant in t'e army. A.
man neet not pe fiery pat, to pe far from pein' as goot as ist
expectet of him by t'e Almighty, who gafe him  his soul,
ant who reteemet him from his sins, ant who holts out taily
t'e means of grace. When I come here, wit' Dus, a chill




408           THIE C  A I N B EAR E R.
knewest almost as much of t'e real natur' of religion ast I
knewest. Put, t'at precious gal, t'rough Divine grace, hast
peen t'e means of pringin' an olt ant ignorant man to a
sonse of his true contition, ant to petter hapits, t'an t'ose
you knowet in him. Once I lovet a frolick, Mortaunt, and
punch ant ot'er savoury liquors wast fery pleasant to me';
ay, ant even a'ter years might ant shoult haf teachet me
t'e folly of sich ways. Put you haf not seen t'e glass at
my lips t'is summer, lat, at unseemly moments, or in unseemly'numpers of times, ant t'at ist owin' to t'e confersations I haf hat wit' Dus on t'e supject. It woult haf tone
your heart goot, Mortaunt, to haf seen t'e tear gal seated
on my knee, combin' my olt grey hairs wit' her telicate
white fingers, ant playin' wit my hart, ret cheeks, ast t'e
infant plays wit' t'e cheeks of t'e mot'er, whilst she talket!o me of t'e history of Christ, ant his sufferin's for us allant tolt me t'e way'to learn to know my safiour in trut' ant
sincerity! You t'ink Dus hantsome; ant pleasant to look
upon; ant pleasant to talk wit'-put you can nefer know t'e
gal in her colours of golt, Mortaunt, till she pegins to con
verse wit' you, unreservetly, apout Got ant retemption!"
"I can believe anything in favour of Ursula Malbone,
my dear Chainbearer; and no music could be sweeter, to
my ears, than thus to hear yo% pronouncing her praise."
The death of Chainbearer occurred, as he had himself
prognosticated, about the time of the return of light on the
succeeding morning.  A more tranquil end I never witnessed.  He ceased to suffer pain hours before headrew his
last breath; but he had whispered to me, in the course of that
day, that he endured agony at moments. He wished me to
connea I the fact from Dus, however, lest it should increase
her grief. " So long ast t'e tear gal ist in ignorance of my
sufferin's," the excellent old man added in his whisper,
" she cannot feel so much for me; since she must have confitence in t'e value of her own goot work, ant s'pose me to
pe only trawin' nearer to happiness.  Put, you ant I know,
Mortaunt, t'at men are not often shot t'rough t'e -poty wit'.
out feelin' much pain; ant I haf hat my share-yes, I haf
hat my share!"'Nevertheless, it would have been difficult
for one who was not in the secret to detect the smallest sign
that the sufferer endured a tithe of the agony he actudlly




T  E C'AINBEARER.                 40()
underwent.  Ursula was deceived; and to this hour she is
ignorant how much her uncle endured. But, as I have said,
this pain ceased altogether about nine o'clock, and Andries
even slumbered for many minutes at a time. Not long
before the light returned, however, he became aroused, and
never slumbered again until he fell into the long, last sleep
of death.  His niece prayed with him  about five; after
which he seemed to consider himself as ready for the final
march.
It might have been owing to the ageg of the patient; but,
in this instance, death announced his near approach by a
rapid loss of the senses. At first came a difficulty of hearing; and then the quick decay of the sense of sight.  The
first was made known to us by a repetition of questions that
had already been more than once answered; while the
painful fact that sight, if not absolutely gone, was going,
was brought home to us by the circumstance that, while
Dus was actually hovering over him like a guardian angel;
he inquired anxiously where she was.
" I am here, uncle Chainbearer," answered the dear girl,
in tremulous tones —" here, before you, and am about to wet
your lips."
" I want t'e gal-t'at ist-I wish her to pe near when t'e
spirit mounts to Heafen. - Haf her callet, Frank or Mortaunt."
" Dear-dearest uncle, I am here, now-here before you
-closest to. you of all-almost in your arms," answered
Ous, speaking loud enough to make herself heard, by an
effort that cost her a great deal.  " Do not think I can ever
desert you, until I know that your spirit has gone to the
mercy-seat of God!"
"I knowet it," said Chainbearer, endqavouring to raise
his arms to feel for his niece, who met the effort by receiving his feeble and clammy hand in both her own. —" Remember my wishes apout Mortaunt, gal - yet, shoult t'e
family agree, marry him wit' my plessin'-yes, my pest
plessin'.-Kiss me, Duss.-Wast t'em your lips?-t'ey felt
colt; ant you are nefer colt of hint or heart. —Mortaunt —
kiss me, too, lat-t'at wast warmer, ant hat more feelin' in
it.-Frank, gif me your hant-I owe you money —t'ere ist
a stockin' half full of tollars — Your sister wilt pay my tebts.
35




410          TH E C I AINBEAR IE..
Ant General Littlepage owes me money-put ilmost he' owest
me goot Swill.-I pray Got to pless him-ant to pless Matarn
Littlepage-ant olt Matam Littlepage, t'at I neftr did seeant-t'e major, or colonel, ast he is now callet-ant all our
rijiment-ant your rijiment, too, Frank, which wast a fery
goot rijiment. —Farewell, Frank-Dus-sister-preciousChrist-Jesus, receive my-   "
These words came with difficulty, and were whispered,
rather than uttered aloud. They came at intervals, too,
especially towards the last, in a way to announce the near
approach of the state of which they were the more imme.
diate precursors. The last syllable I have recorded was no
sooner uttered, than the breath temporarily ceased.  I re
moved Dus by gentle force, placing her in the arms of hex
brother, and turned to note the final respiration. That final
breath, in which the spirit appears to be exhaled, was calm,
placid, and as easy as comports with the separation of soul
ahd body; leaving the hard, aged, wrinkled, but benevolent
countenance of the deceased, with an expression of happy
repose on it, such as the friends of the dead love to look
upon. Of all the deaths I had then witnessed, this was the
most tranquil, and the best calculated to renew the hopes
of the Christian. As for myself, it added a profound re.
spect for the character and moral qualities of Ursula Mal.
bone, to the love and admiration I bore her already, the
fruits of her beauty, wit, heart, and other attractions.
The two expected deaths had now taken place, and it only
remained to dispose of the legal questions connected with
the events which had caused them, inter the bodies, and
return to the Nest.  I saw that one of the cabins was prepared for the reception of Ursula and Lowiny, the latter still
clinging to us, while the body of Chainbearer was laid out
in a coffin that had been made by the same hands, and a'
the same time, as that of Thousandacres.  About noon, the
coroner arrived, not'Squire Newcome, but another, fol
whom he had himself sent; and a jury was immediately
collected from among the members of the posse. The proceedings were of no great length. I told my story, or as
much of it as was necessary, from beginning to end, and
others gave their testimony as to the proceedings at different
periods in the events.. The finding was, in the case of




T IE C 11 A I  IE.     l EA t.      411
Chainbearer, "murder by the hand ol some  pera:son uin.
known;" and in that of Thousandacres, " accidental death."
The first was right, unquestionably; as to the last, I conceive, there was as little of " accident" as ever occurred,
when a man was shot through the body by a steady hand,
and an unerring eye.  But such was the verdict, and I had
nothing but conjectures for my opinion as to the agency of
the Indian in killing the squatter.
That evening, and a cool autumnal night it was, we buried Thousandacres, in the centre of the field I have mentioned. Of all his numerous family, Prudence and Lowiny
alone were present. The service was short, and the man
of violence descended to mingle with the clods of the earth,
without'a common prayer, a verse from Holy Writ, or any
religious rite whatever. The men who had borne the body,
and the few spectators present, filled the grave, rounded it
handsomely, and covered it with sods, and were turning
away in silence, to retrace their steps to the dwellings, when
the profound stillness which had reigned throughout the
whole of the brief ceremony, was suddenly broken by the
clear, full voice of Prudence, who spoke in a tone and matui
ner that arrested every step.
" Men and brethren," said this extraordinary woman, who
had so many of the vices of her condition, relieved by so
many of the virtues of her sex and origin.  "Men and
brethren," she said, "for I cannot call ye neighbours, and
will not. call you f6es, I thank ye for this act of decent
regard to the wants of both the departed and the living, and
that ye have thus come to assist in burying my dead out of
mny sight."
Some such address, even a portion of these very words,
were customary; but as no one had expected anything of
the sort at that moment, they startled as much as they surprised us. As the rest of the party recovered from  its
wonder, however, it proceeded towards the huts, leaving me
alone with Prudence, who stood, swinging her-body as
usual, by the side of the grave.
"The night threatens to be cool," I said, "and you had
better return with me to the dwellings."
"What's the houses to me, now! Aaron is gone, the b'ys
be fled, and their wives and children, and my children, *




4112         THE CHAINBEAREItR.
fled, leaving none in this clearin' but Lowiny, who belongs
more to your'n in feelin', than to me and mine, and the body
that lies beneath the clods! There's property in the housen,
that I do s'pose even the law would give us, and mayhe
some one may want it.  Give me that, Major. Littlepage, to
help to clothe and feed my young, and I'll never trouble
this- place ag'in. They'll not call Aaron a squatter for
takin' up that small piece of'arth; and one day, perhaps,
you'll not grudge to me as much more by its side. It's
little more squattin' that I can do, and the next pitch I make,
will be the last."
" There is no wish on my part, good woman, to injure
you. Your effects can be taken away from this place whenever you please, and I will even help you to do it," I answered, "in such a way as to put it in the power of your
sons to receive the goods without risk to themselves.  I re.
member to have seen a batteau of some size, in the stream
below the mill; can you tell me whether it remains there
or not?"
" Why shouldn't it? The b'ys built it two years ago, to
-transport things in, and it's not likely to go off of itself."
"Well, then, I will use that boat to get your. effects off
with safety to yourself. To-morrow, everything of any value
that can be found about.this place, and to which you can
have any right, shall be put in that batteau, and I will send
the boat, when loaded, down the stream, by means of my
own black and the Indian, who shall abandon it-a mile or
two below, where those you may send to look for it, can
take possession and carry the effects to any place you may
choose."
The woman seemed surprised, and even affected by this
proposal, though she a little distrusted my motives.
"Can I depend on this, Major Littlepage?" she asked,
doubtingly." Tobit and his brethren would be desp'rate, if
any scheme to take'em should be set on foot under sich a
disguise."
"Tobit and' his brethren have nothing to fear from
treachery of mine. Has the word of a gentleman no value
is your eyes?"
"I know that gentlemen gin'rally do as they promise,
~A1 so I've often told Aaron, as a reason for not bein' hard




THE  C'HAINBEARER.                  413
Vn their property, but he never would hear to it. Waal,
Major Littlepage, I'11 put faith in you, and will look for the
batteau at the place you've mentioned. God bless you for
this, and may he prosper you in that which is nearest your
heart! We shall never see each other ag'in-farewell."
You surely will return to the house, and pass the night
comfortably under a roof!"
" No; I'11 quit you here. The housen have little in em
now that I love, and I shall be happier in the woods."
" But the night is cool, and, ere it be morning it will become even chilling and cold."
"It's colder in that grave," answered the woman, point.
ing mournfully with her long, skinny finger to the mound
which covered the remains of her husband.  " I'm used to
the forest, and go to look for my children. The mother
that looks for her children is not to be kept back by winds
and frost.  Farewell ag'in, Major Littlepage.  May God
remember what you have done, and will do, for me and
mine!"
" But you forget your daughter. What is to become of
your daughter?"
"Lowiny has taken desp'rately to Dus Malbone, and
wishes to stay with her while Dus wishes to have her stay.
If they get tired of each other, my da'ghter can easily find
us. No gal of mine will be long put out in sich a s'arch."
As all this sounded probable and well enough, I had no
further objections to urge. Prudence waved her hand in
adieu, and away she went across the dreary-looking fields
with the strides of a man, burying her tall, gaunt figure in
the shadow of the wood, with as little hesitation as another
would have entered the well-known avenues of sqme town.
I never saw her afterwards; though one or two messages
from her did reach me through Lowiny.
As I was returning from the grave, Jaap and the Track.
less came in from their scout. The report they made was
perfectly satisfactory. By the trail, which they followed
for miles, the squatters had actually absconded, pushing for
some distant point, and nothinrg more was to be feared from
them in that part of the country. I now gave my orders
as respected the goods and chattels of the family, which
were neither very numerous nor very valuable; and it may
35t*




414           THE CI  AIN BE'ARER.
as well be said here as later, that everything was done next
day, strictly according to promise. The first of the mes.
sages that I received from Prudence came within a month,
acknowledging the receipt of her effects, evena to the gear of
the mill, and expressing her deep gratitude for the favour.
I have reason to think, too, that nearly half the lumber
fell into the hands of these squatters, quite that portion of
it being in the stream at the time we removed from the spot,
and floating off with the rains that soon set in.  What was
found at a later day was sold, and the proceeds were appropriated to meet the expenses of, and to make presents to the
posse, as an encouragement to such persons to see the
majesty of the laws maintained.
Early next morning we made our preparations to quit the
deserted mill. Ten of the posse arranged themselves into
a party to see the body of Chainbearer transported to the
Nest. This was done by making a rude bier, that was car.
ried by two horses, one preceding the other, and having the
corpse suspended between them. I remained with the body;
but Dus, attended by Lowiny, and protected by her brother,
preceded us, halting at Chainbearer's huts for our arrival.
At this point we passed the first night of our journey, Dus
and Frank again preceding us, always on foot, to the Nest.
At this place, the final halt of poor Andries, the brother and
sister arrived at an hour before dinner, while we did not
get in with the body until the sun was just setting.
As our little procession drew near the house, I saw a
number of wagons and horses in the orchard that spread
around it, which, at first, I mistook for a collection of the
tenants, met to do honour to the manes of Chainbearer. A
second look, however, let me into the true secret of the case.
As we drew slowly near, the whole procession on foot, I
discovered the persons of my own dear parents, that of colonel Follock, those of Kate, Pris. Bayard, Tom Bayard, and
even of my sister Kettletas, in the group.  Last of all, I
saw, pressing forward to meet me, yet a little repelled by
the appearance of the coffin, my dear and venerable old
grandmother, herself!
Here, then, were assembled nearly all of the house oi
Littlepage, with two or three near friends, who did not belong to it! Frank Malbone was among them, and doubtless




T  E CHAINBEAI ER.                   4 l5
had told his story, so that our visiters could not be surprised
at cur appearance. On the other hand, I was at no loss to
understand how all this had been brought about. Frank's
express had found the party at Fishkill, had communicated
his intelligence, set everybody in motion on the wings of
anxiety and love, and here they were. The journey had
not been particularly rapid either, plenty of time having
elapsed between the time when my seizure by the squatters
was first made known to my friends, and the present moment, to have got a message to Lilacsbush, and to have received its answer.
Kate afterwards told me we made an imposing and solemn appearance, as we came up to the gate of Ravensnest,
bearing the body of Chainbearer. In advance marched Susquesus and Jaap, each armed, and the latter carrying an
axe, acting, as occasion required, in the character of a
pioneer.  The bearers and attendants came next, two and
two, armed as part of the posse, and carrying packs; next
succeeded the horses with the bier, each led by a keeper; I
wras the principal mourner, though armed like the rest, while
Chainbearer's poor slaves, now the property of Dus, brought
ap the rear, carrying his compass, chains, and the other
emblems of his calling.
We made no halt, but passing the crowd collected on the
lawn, we went through the gate-way, and only came to a
stand when we had reached the centre of the court. As all
the arrangements had been previously made, the next step
was to inter the body.  I knewv that general Littlepage had
often officiated on such occasions5 and a request to that effect was made to him, through Tom Bayard. As for myself,
i said not a word to any of my own family, begging them
to excuse me until I had seen the last offices performed to
the remains of my friend. In half an hour all was ready, and
again the solemn.procession was resumed. As before, Sus.
quesus and Jaap led the way, the latter now carrying a
shovel, and acting in the capacity of a sexton. The Indian
bore a flaming torch of pine, the darkness having so far advanced as to render artificial light necessary. Others of
the party had these natural flambeaux, also, which added
greatly to the solemnity and impressiveness of the scene.
General Littlepage preceded the corpse, carrying a prayer



416           THE C I AINBEARER.
book. Then followed the bearers, with the coffin, the horses
being now dismissed.  Dus, veiled in black from head to
foot, and, leaning on Frank, appeared as chief mourner.
Though this was not strictly in conformity with real New
York habits, yet no one thought the occasion one on which
to manifest the customary reserve of the sex. Everybody
inll or near the Nest, females as well as males, appeared to
do honour to the memory of Chainbearer, and Dus came
forth as the chief mourner. Priscilla Bayard, leaning on
the arm of her brother Tom, edged herself in next to her
friend, though they had not as yet exchanged a syllable together; and, after all was over, Pris. told me it was the first
funeral she had ever attended, or the first time she had ever
been at a grave. The same was true of my grandmother,
my mother, and both my sisters.  I mention this lest some
antiquarian, a thousand years hence, might light on this
manuscript, and mistake our customs.  Of. late years, the
New Englanders are introducing an innovation on the old
usage of the colony; but, among the upper real New York
families, women do not even now attend funerals. In this
respect, I apprehend, we follow the habits of England, where
females of the humbler classes, as I have heard, do, while
their superiors do not appear on such occasions. The reason of the difference between the two is very easily appreciated, though I limit my statements to what I conceive to
be the facts, without affecting to philosophize on them.
But, all our ladies attended the funeral of Chainbearer. I
came next to Torn and Priscilla, Kate pressing up to my
side, and placing her arm in mine, without speaking, As
she did this, however, the dear girl laid her little hand on
mine, and gave the latter a warm pressure, as much as to
say howgreatly she was rejoiced at finding me safe, and out
of the hands of the Philistines. The rest of the party fell in
behind, and, as soon as the Indian saw that everybody was
placed, he moved slowly forward, holding his flaming torch
so high as to light the footsteps of those near him.
~Directions had been sent to the'Nest to dig a grave for
Andries, in the orchard, and at no great distance from the
verge of the rocks.  As I afterwards ascertained, it was at
tne. very spot where one of the most remarkable events in
he life of the general had occurred an event in which both




THE CHAINBEA hER.                   417
Susquesus and Jaap had been conspicuous actors. Thither,
then, we proceeded, in funereal -order, and with funereal
tread, the torches throwing their wild and appropriate light
over the nearer accessories of the scene. Never did the
service sound more solemnly to me, there being a pathos
and richness in my father's voice that were admirably adapted to the occasion. Then he felt what he was reading,
which does not always happen even when clergymen offi.
ciate; for not only was general Littlepage a close friend of
the deceased, but he was a devout christian. I felt a throb
at the heart, as I heard the fall of the first clods on the coffin
of Chainbearer; but reflection brought its calm, and from
that moment Dus became, as it might be, doubly dear to me.
It appeared to me as if all her uncle's love and care had
been transferred to myself, and that, henceforth, I was to be
his representative with his much-beloved niece. I did not
hear a sob from Ursula during the whole ceremony. I knew
that she wept, and wept bitterly: but her self-command was
so great as to prevent any undue obtrusion of her griefs on
others. We all remained at the grave until Jaap had rounded it with his utmost skill, and had replaced the last sod.
Then the procession formed anew, and we accompanied
Frank and Dus to the door of the house, when she entered
and left us without. Priscil.la Bayard, however, glided in
after her friend, and I saw them locked in each other's arms,
through the window of the parlour, by the light of the fire
within. At the next moment, they retired together to the
little room that Dus had appropriated to her own particular
use.
Now it was that I embraced and was embraced by my
friends. My mother held me long in her arms, called me
her " dear, dear boy," and left tears on my face. Kate did
pretty' much the same, though she said nothing.  As for
Anneke, my dear sister Kettletas, her embrace was like
herself, gentle, sincere, and warm-hearted. Nor must my
dear old grandmother be forgotten; for though she came
last of the females, she held me longest in her arms, and,
after " thanking God" devoutly for my late escape, she protested that "I grew every hour more and more like the
Littlepages."  Aunt Mary kissed nie with her customary
affection.




418           THE  CHlAINBEARER
A portion of these embraces, however, occurred after we
had entered the parlour, which Frank, imitating Dus, had
delicately, as well as considerately, left to ourselves. Colonel
Follock, nevertheless, gave me his salutations and congratu.
lations before we left. the court; and they were as cordial
and hearty as if he had been a second father.
"How atmiraply the general reats, Mortaunt," our old
friend added, becoming very Dutch as he got to be excited.
" I haf always sayet tat Corny Littlepage woult make as
goot a tominie as any rector t'ey ever hat in olt Trinity.
Put he mate as goot a soltier, too. Corny ist an extraordinary man, Mortaunt, ant one tay he wilt pe gofernor."
This was a favourite theory of colonel Van Valkenburgh's.
For himself, he was totally without ambition, whereas he
thought nothing good enough for his friend, Corny Littlepage. Scarce a year passed that he did not allude to the
propriety of elevating' t'e general' to some high office or
other; nor am I certain that his allusions of this nature may
not have had their effect; since my father was elected to
Congress as soon as the new constitution was formed, and
continued to sit as long as his health and comfort would
permit.
Supper was prepared for both parties of travellers, of
course, and in due time we all took our seats at table. I
say all; but that was not literally exact, inasmuch as
neither Frank, Dus, nor Priscilla Bayard, appeared among
us again that evening. I presume each had something to eat,
though all took the meal apart from the rest of the family.
After supper I was requested to relate, seriatim, all the
recent events connected with my visit to the'Nest, my arrest.and liberation." This I did, of course, seated at my grandmother's side, the old lady holding one of my hands the
whole time I was speaking. The most profound attention
was lent by all the party; and a thoughtful silence succeeded my narration, which ended only with the history of
our departure from the mills.
"Ay," exclaimed colonel Follock, who was first to speak
-after I had terminated my own account.  "So much for
Yankee religion! I'll warrant you now, Corny, t'at t'e
fellow, T'ousantacres, coult preach ant pray just like all t'e
rest of our Pilgrim Fat'ers."




THE C          H A I NEA  E.      41
" There are rogues of New York birth and exti action, Colo.
nel Follock, as well as of New England," answered my father,
drily; "and the practice of squatting is incidental to the
condition of the country; as men are certain to make free
with the property that is least protected and watched. Squatters are made by circumstances, and not by any peculiar
disposition of a particular portion of the population to appropriate the land of others to their own uses. It would be the
same with our hogs and our horses, were they equally exposed to the depredations of lawless men, let the latter come
from Connecticut or Long Island."
"Let me catch one of t'ese gentry among my horses!"
answered the colonel, with a menacing shake of his head,
for, Dutchman-like, he had a wonderful love for the species
-" I woulcrop him wit' my own hants, wit'out chudge or
chury."
"That might lead to evils almost as great as those produced by squatting, Dirck," returned my father.
" By the way, sir," I put in, knowing that Colonel Follock
sometimes uttered extravagances on such subjects, though as
honest and well-meaning a man as ever breathed —" I have
forgotten to mention a circumstance that may have some
interest, as'squlre Newcome is an old acquaintance of yours."
I then recounted all the facts connected with the first visit
of Mr. Jason N-ewcome to the clearing of Thousandacres,
and the substance of the conversation I had overheard between the squatter and that upright magistrate.  General
Littlepage listened with profound attention; and as for colonel
Follock, he raised his eye-brows, grunted, laughed as well
as a rnan could with his lips compressing a pipe, and uttered
in the best way he was able, under the circumstances, and
with sufficient sententiousness, the single word' Danpury!"'
-" No-no-Dirck," answered my father, "' we must not
put all these crimes and vices on our neighbours, for many
of them grow, from the seedling to the tree bearing fruit, it
our own soil. I know this man, Jason Newcome, reasonably well; and, while I have confided in him more than I
vught,.perhaps, I have never supposed he was a person in
the least influenced by our conventional. notions of honour
aind integrity. What is called "' Law Honest," I have believed him to be; but it would seem, in that I have been




420          T II E CI AIN BE A RE R.
mistaken.  Still, I am not prepared to admit that the place
of his birth, or his education, is the sole cause of his back.
slidings."
"Own t'e trut', Corny, like a man ast you pC, ant.confess
it ist all our pilgrim fat'ers' ant Tanpury itees. What use
ist t'ere in misleetin' your own son, who wilt come, sooner
or later, to see t'e whole trut'?"
" I should be sorry, Dirck, to teach my son any narrow
prejudices.  The last war has' thrown me much among
officers from New England, and the intercourse has taught
me to esteem that portion of our fellow-citizens more than
was our custom previously to the Revolution."
"Tush for'intercourse,' ant'esteem,' ant'teachin',
Corny! T'e whole t'ing of.squattin' hast crosset t'e Byram
rifer, ant unless we look to it, t'e Yankees wil4get all our
lants away from us!"
"Jason Newcome, when I knew him best, and I may say
first," continued my father, without appearing to pay much
attention to the observations of his friend, the colonel, " was
an exceedingly unfledged, narrow-minded provincial, with a
most overweening notion, certainly, of the high excellencies of the particular state of society from which he had not
long before emerged.  He had just as great a contempt for
New York, and New York wit, and New York usages, and
especially for New York religion and morals, as Dirck here
seems to have for all those excellencies as they are exhibited
in New England. In a word, the Yankee despised the
Dutchman, and the Dutchman abominated the Yankee. In
all this, there is nothing new, and I fancy the supercilious
feeling of the New England-man can very easily be traced
to his origin in the mother country. But, differences do
exist, I admit, and I consider the feeling with which every
New Englander comes among us, to be, by habit, adverse
to our state of society in many particulars-some good and
some bad-'and this merely because he is not accustomed to
them. Among other things, as a whole, the population of
these states do not relish the tenures by which our large
estates -are held.  There are plenty of men, from  that
quarter of the country, who are too well taught, and whose
honesty is too much of proof, not to wish to oppose any.
bing that is wrong in connection with this subject; still, thf




THE C HAINBEARER.                   421
prejudices or nearly all who come flom the east are opposed
to the relation of landlord and tenant, and this be-cause they
do not wish to see large landlords among them, not being
large landlords themselves.  I never found any gentleman,
or man of education from New Etfland, who saw any harrr
in a man's leasing a single farm to a single tenant, or half
a-dozen farms to half-a-dozen tenants; proof that it is no
the tenure. itself with which they quarrel, but with a class
of men who are, or seem to be, their superiors."
"I have heard the argument used against the leasehold
system, that it retards the growth and lessens the wealth of
any district in which it may prevail."
"That it does not retard the growth, is proved by the
fact that farms can be leased always, when it often requires
years to sell them.  This estate is half filled now, and will
be entirely occupied, long ere Mooseridge will be a third
sold. That the latter may be the richest and the best tilled
district, in the end, is quite probable; and this for the
simple reasons that richer men buy than rent, to begin with,
and the owner usually takes better care of his farm than
the mere tenant.  Some of the richest, best cultivated, and
most civilized regions on earth, however, are those in which
the tenures of the actual occupants are, and ever have been,
merely leasehold.  It is easy to talk, and to feel, in these
matters, but not quite so easy to come to just conclusions as
some imagine. There are portions of England, for instance
- Norfolk in particular —where the improvements are
almost ent?rely owing to the resources and enterprise of the
large proprietors.  As a question of political economy,
Mordaunt, depend on it, this is one that has two sides to it;
as a question of mere stomach, each man will be apt to
view it as his gorge is up or down."
Shortly after this was said, the ladies complained of fa
tigue, a feeling in which we all participated; and the party
broke up for the night.  It seems the General had sent back
word by the express, of the accommodations he should
require; which enabled the good people of the Nest to make
such  arrangements as rendered  everybody reasonably
comfortable.
36




4212         TTHE CHAIN BEARER
CHAPTER XXX.' Lid. —The vctory is yours, sir."
G King.-It is a glorious one, and well sets off
Our scene of mercy; to the dead we tender
Our sorrow; to the living, ample wishes
Of future happiness."
BEIUMONT AND FLTCHERI;
FATIGUE kept me in bed next morning until it was late.
On quitting the house I passed through the gateway, then
always left open-defence being no longer thought of-and
walked musingly towards the grave of Chainbearer. Previously to doing this, I went as far as each corner of the
building, however, to cast an eye over the fields. On one
side of the house I saw my father and mother, arm in arm,
gazing around them; while on the other, Aunt Mary stood
by herself, looking wistfully in the direction of a wooded
ravine, which had been the scene of some important event
in the early history of the country. When she turned to
re enter the building, I found her face bathed in tears. This
respectable woman, who was now well turned of forty, had
lost her betrothed in battle, on that very spot, a quarter pf a
century before, and was now gazing on the sad, scene for
the first time since the occurrence of the event.
Something almost as interesting, though not of so sad a
nature, also drew my parents to the other side of the house.
When I joined them, an expression of grateful happiness, a
little saddened perhaps by incidental recollections; was on
tlie countenance of each.  My dear mother kissed me
affectionately as I drew near, and the general cordially
gave-me his hand while wishing me good-morning.
1" We were talking bf you," observed the last, "at the
very moment you appeared. Ravensnest is now becoming
a valuable property; and its in6ome, added to the products
of this large and very excellent farm that you have in your
own hands, should keep a country-house, not only in abund.
ance, but with something more. Yea will naturally think of




THE CHAINBEARER.                    423
marrying ere long, and your mother and I were just saying
that you ought to build a good, substantial stone dwelling
on this very spot, and settle down on your own property.
Nothing contributes so much to the civilization of a country
as to dot it with a gentry, and you will both give and re.
ceive advantages by adopting such a course. It is impossi.
ble fobr those who have never been witnesses of the result,
to appreciate the effect produced by one gentleman's family
in a neighbourhood, in the way of manners, tastes, general
intelligence, and civilization at large."
"I am very willing to do my duty, sir, in this, as in
other particulars; but a good stone country-house, such as
a landlord ought to build on his property, will cost money,
and I have no sum in hand to use for such a purpose."
"The house will cost far less than you suppose. Materials are cheap, and so is labour just now. Your mother
and myself will manage to let you have a few extra thousands, for our town-property is beginning to tell again, and
fear nothing on that score. Make your selection of. a spot,
and lay the foundation of the house this autumn; order the
lumber sawed, the lime burned, and other preparations
made-and arrange matters so that you can eat your Christmas dinner, in the year 1785, in the new residence of Ravensnest. By that time you will be ready to get married,
and we may all come up to the house-warming."
" Has anything occurred in particular, sir, to induce you
to imagine I am in any haste to marry? You seem to couple matrimony and the new house together, in a way to
make me think there has."
I caught the general there, and, while my mother turned
her head'aside and smiled, I saw that my father coloured a
little, though he made out to laugh.  After a moment of
embarrassment, however, he answered with spirit - my
good, old grandmother coming up and linking her arm at
his vacant side as he did so.
"Why, Mord, my boy, you can have very little of the
sensibility of the Littlepages in you," he said, " if you can
be a daily spectator of such female loveliness as is now
near you, and not lose your heart."
Grandmother fidgeted, and so did my mother; for I could
see that both thought the general had made too bold a demon.




424          THIE CIIA1NBEfARER.
stration.  With the tact of their sex, they would have been
more on their guard.  I reflected a moment, and then determined to be frank; the present being as good a time as
any other, to reveal my secret.
"I do not intend to be insincere with you, my dear sir,"
I answered, " for I know how much better it is to be open
on matters that are of a common interest in a family, than
to affect mysteriousness. I am a true Littlepage on the
score of- sensibility to the charms of the sex, and have not
lived in daily familiar intercourse with female loveliness.
without experiencing so much of its influence as to be a
warm advocate for matrimony. It is my wish to marry,
and that, too, before this new abode of Ravensnest can be
completed."
The common exclamation of delight that followed this
declaration, sounded in my ears like a knell, for I knew il
must be succeeded by a disappointment exactly proportioned
to the present hopes. But I had gone too far to retreat, and
felt bound to explain myself.
"I'm afraid, my dear parents; and my beloved grandmother," I continued, as soon as I could speak, conscious
of the necessity of being as prompt as possible, " that you
have misunderstood me."
".Not at all, my dear boy-not at all," interrupted my.
father. " You admire Priscilla Bayard, but have not yet so
far presumed on your reception as to offer. But what of
that? Your modesty is in your favour; though I will ac.
knowledge that, in my judgment, a gentieman is bound to
let his mistress know, as soon as his own mind is made up,
that he is a suitor for her hand, and that it is ungenerous
and unmanly to wait until certain of success. Remember
that, Mordaunt, my boy; modesty may be carried to a fault
in a matter of this sort."
" You still misunderstand me, sir. I have nothing to re.
proach myself with on the score of manliness, though I may
have gone too far in another way without consulting my
friends. Beyond sincere good-will and friendship, Priscilla
Bayard is nothing to me, and I am nothing to Priscilla
Bayard."
" Mordaunt!" exclaimed a voice, that I never heard without its exciting filial tenderness.




THE CHAIN BEARER.                   4'25t
"I hale said but truth, dearest mother, and truth that
ought to have been sooner said. Miss Bayard would refuse
me to-morrow, were I to offer."
"You don't know that, Mordaunt-You can't know it
until you try," interrupted my grandmother, somewhat
eagerly.  "The minds of young women are not to be judged
by the same rules as those of young men. Such an offer
will not come every day, I can tell her; and she's much
too discreet and right-judging to do anything so silly.  To
be sure, I have no authority to say how Priscilla feels towards you; but, if her heart is her own, and Mordy Littlepage be not the youth that has stolen it, I am no judge of
my own sex."
" But, you forget, dearest grandmother, that were youi
flattering opinions in my behalf all true-as I have good
reason to believe they are not-but were they true, I could
only regret it should be so; for I love another."
This time the sensation was so profound as' to produce a
common silence. Just at that-moment an interruption occurred, of a nature both so sweet and singular, as greatly
to relieve me at least, and to preclude the necessity of my
giving any immediate account of my meaning. I will ex.
plain how it occurred.
The reader may remember that there were, originally,
loops in the exterior walls of the house at Ravensnest, placed
there for the purposes of defence, and which were used as
small windows in these peaceable times. We were standing
beneath one of those loops, not near enough, however, to be
seen or heard by one at the loop, unless we raised our voices
above the tone in which we were actually conversing.  Out
of this loop, at that precise instant, issued the low, sweet
strains of one of Dus' exquisite Indian hymns, I might almost
call them, set, as was usual with her, to a plaintive Scotch
melody. On looking towards the grave of Chainbearer, I
saw Susquesus standing over it, and I at once understood
the impulse which led Ursula to sing this song. The words
had been explained to me, and I knew that they alluded to a
warrior's grave.
The raised finger, the delighted expression of the eye, the
attitude ofintense listening which my beloved mother assumed,
each and all denoted the pleasure and emotion she expe.
36*




426          THE CHAINBEARER.
rienced. When, however, the singer suddenly changed the
language to English, after the last guttural words of the
Onondago had died on our ears, and commenced to the same
strain a solemn English hymn, that was short in itself, but
full of piety and hope, the tears started out of my mother's
and grandmother's eyes, and even General Littlepage sought
an occasion.to blow his nose in a very suspicious manner.
Presently, the sounds died away, and that exquisite melody
ceased.
" In the name of wonder, Mordaunt, who can this night.
ingale be?" demanded my father, for neither of the ladies
could speak.," 7Tat is the person, sir, who has my plighted faith-the
woman I must marry, or remain single."
" This, then, must be the Dus Malbone, or Ursula Mal.
bone, of whom I have heard so much from Priscilla Bayard,
within the last day or two," said my mother, in the tone and
with the manner of one who is suddenly enlightened on any
subject that has much interest with him, or her; "I ought
to have expected something of the sort, if half the praises
of Priscilla be true."
No one had a better mother than myself. Thoroughly a
lady in all that pertains to the character, she was also an
humble and pious Christian. Nevertheless, humility and
piety are, in some respects, particularly the first, matters
of convention. The fitness of things had great merit in the
eyes of both my parents, and I cannot say that it is entirely
without it in mine. In nothing is this fitness of things more
appropriate than in.equalizing marriages; and few things
are less likely to be overlooked by a discreet parent, than
to have all proper care that the child connects itself pru.
dently; and that, too, as much in reference to station, habits,
opinions, breeding in particular, and the general way of
thinking, as to fortune. Principles are inferred among people of principle, as a matter of course; but subordinate to
these, worldly position is ever of great importance in the
eyes of parents. My parents could not be very different
from those of other people, and I could see that both now
thought that Ursula Malbone, the Chainbearer's niece, one
who had actually carried chain herself, for I had lightly
mentioned that circumstance in one of my Letters, was




THE  CHAINBEARER.                  427
scarcely a suitable match for the only son of General Little.
page, Neither said much, however; though my father did
put one or two questions that were somewhat to the point
ere we separated.
"Am I to understand, Mordaunt," he asked, with a little
of the gravity a parent might be expected to exhibit on hearing so unpleasant an announcement-" Am I to understand,
Mordaunt, that you are actually engaged to this'youngeh-eh-eh-this young persQn?"
" Do not hesitate, my dear sir, to call Ursula Malbone a
lady. She is a lady by both birth and education. The
last, most certainly, or she never could have stood in the
relation she does to your family."
" And what relation is that, sir?"
" It is just this, my dear father. I have offered to Ursula
— indiscreetly, hastily, if you will, as I ought to have waited
to consult you and my mother-but we do not always follow the dictates of propriety in a matter of so much feeling.
I dare say, sir, you did better" —here I saw a slight smile
on the pretty mouth of my mother, and I began to suspect
that the general had been no more dutiful than myself in
this particular-" but I hope my forgetfulness will be excused, on account of the influence of a passion which we all
find so hard to resist."
" But, what is the relation this young-lady-bears to
my family, Mordaunt?  You are not already married?"
" Far from it, sir; I should not so far have failed in respect to you three-or even to Anneke and Katrinke. 1
have offered, and have been conditionally accepted.'"
"' Which condition is  -"
"The consent of you three; the perfect approbation of
my whole near connection. I believe that Dus, dear Dus,
does love me, and that she would cheerfully give me her
hand, were she certain of its being agreeable to. you, bu
that no persuasion of mine will ever induce her so to do
under other circumstances."
s" This is something, for it shows the girl has principle,"
answered my father. "o Why, who goes there?"
" Who went there?" sure enough. There went Frank
Malbone and Priscilla Bayard, arm and arm, and so engrossed in conversation that they did not see who were ob




428           THE  CHAINBEARER.
serving them. I dare say they fancied they were in the
woods, quite sheltered from curious eyes, and at liberty to
saunter about, as much occupied with each other as they
pleased; or, what is more probable, that they thought of
nothing, just then, but of themselves. They came out of
the court, and walked off swiftly into the orchard, appearing to tread on air, and seemingly as happy as the birds
that were carolling on the surrounding trees.
"There, sir," I said, significantly —" There, my dear
mother, is the- proof that Miss Priscilla Bayard will not
break her heart on my account."
" This is very extraordinary, indeed!" exclaimed my
much disappointed grandmother' -" Is not that the young
man who we were told acted as Chainbearer's surveyor,
Corny?"
" It is, my good mother, and a very proper and agreeable
youth he is, as I know by a conversation held with him last
night. It is very plain we have all been mistaken"-added
the general; " though I do not know that we ought to say
that we have any of us been deceived."
" Here comes Kate, with a face which announces that she
is fully mistress of the secret," I put in, perceiving my sister
coming round our angle of the building, with a countenance
which I knew betokened that her mind and heart were full.
She joined us, took my arm without speaking, and followed
my father who led his wife and mother to a rude bench that
had been placed at the foot of a tree, where we all took seats,
each waiting for some other to speak. My grandmother
broke the silence.
" Do you see Pris. Bayard yonder, walking with that Mr.
Frank Chainbearer, or Surveyor, or whatever his name is,
Katrinke dear?" asked the good old lady.
" I do, grandmamma," answered the good young lady, in
a voice so pitched as to be hardly audible.
" And can you explain what it means, darling?"
"I believe I can, ma'am - if- if- Mordaunt wishes to
hear."
"Don't mind me, Kate," returned I, smiling-" My heart
will never be broken by Miss Priscilla Bayard."
The look of sisterly solicitude that I received from that
honest-.hearted girl, ought to have made me feel very grate




THE CHAINBEARER.                    429
Ful; and it did make me feel grateful, for a sister's affection
is a sweet thing. I believe the calmness of my countenance
and its smiling expression encouraged the dear creature, for
she now began to tell her story as fast as was at all in rule.
"The meaning, then, is this," said Kate. " That gentleman is Mr. Francis Malbone, and he is the engaged suitor
of Priscilla. I have had all the facts from her own mouth."
6' Will you, then, let us hear as many of them as it is
proper we should know?" said the general, gravely.
" There is no wish on the part of Priscilla to conceal any.
thing. She has known Mr. Malbone several years, and they
have been attached all that time.. Nothing impeded the affair
but his poverty. Old Mr. Bayard objected to that, of course
you know, as fathers will, and Priscilla would not engage
herself. But - do you not remember to have heard of the
death of an old Mrs. Hazleton, at Bath in England, this summer, mamma?  The Bayards are in half-mourning for her,
now."
"Certainly, my dear —Mrs. Hazleton was Mr. Bayard's
aunt; I knew her well once, before she became a refugeeher husband was a half-pay Colonel Hazleton of the royal
artillery; and they were tories of course. The aunt was
named Priscilla, and was godmother to our Pris."
"Just so —Well, this lady has left Pris. ten thousand
pounds in the English funds, and the Bayards now consent
to her marrying Mr. Malbone. They say, too, but I don't
think that can have had any influence, for Mr. Bayard and
his wife are particularly disinterested people, as indeed are
all the family"-added Kate, hesitatingly and looking down:
"but they say that the death of some young man will pro.
bably leave Mr. Malbone the heir of an aged cousin of his
late father's."
" And now, my dear father and mother, you will perceive
that Miss Bayard will not break her heart because I happen
to love Dus Malbone. I see by your look, Katrinke, that
you have had some hint of this backsliding also."
" I have; and what is more, I have seen the young lady,
and can hardly wonder at it. Anneke and I have been
passing two hours with her this morning; and, since you
cannot get Pris., I know no other, M-orda.unt who will so




430           THE CHAINBEARER.
thoroughly supply her place. Anneke is in love with her
also!"
Dear, good, sober-minded, judicious Annelke; — she had
penetrated into the true character of Dus, in a single inter.
view; a circumstance that I ascribed to the impression left
by the recent death of Chainbearer. Ordinarily, that spirited
young woman would not have permitted a sufficiently near
approach in a first interview, to permit a discovery of so
many of her sterling qualities; but nQw her heart was soft.
ened, and her spirit so much subdued, one of Anneke's
habitual gentleness would be very apt to win on her sympathies, and draw the two close to each other. The reader is
not to suppose that Dus had opened her mind like a vulgar
school-girl, and made my sister a confidant of the relation
in which she and I stood to one another. She had not said,
or hinted, a syllable on the subject.  The information Kate
possessed had come from Priscilla Bayard, who obtained it
from Frank, as a matter of course; and my sister subsequently admitted to me that her friend's happiness was augmented by the knowledge that I should not be a sufferer by
her earlier preference. for Malbone, and that she was likely
to have me for -a brother-in-law. All this I gleaned from
Kate, in our subsequent'conferences.
" This is extraordinary!" exclaimed the general —" very
extraordinary; and to me quite unexpected."
"' We can have no right to control Miss Bayard's choice,"
observed my discreet and high-principled mother.  "She is
her own mistress, so far as wue are concerned; and if her
own parents approve of her choice, the less we say abou,
it the better. As respects this connection of' Mordaunt's,
hope he, himself, will admit of our right to have opinions.'
"Perfectly so, my dearest mother.  All I ask of you,.
to express no opinion, however, until you have seen Ursula
-have become acquainted with her, and are qualified to
judge of her fitness to be not only mine, but any man's wife,
I ask but this of your justice,"
"It is just; and I shall act on the suggestion," observed
my father.  "You have a right to demand this of us, Mor.
daunt, and I can promise for your mother, as well as my.
self."
"After all, Anneke," put in grandmother, " I am not sure




THE CHAINBE ARER.                  431
we have no right to complain of Miss Bayard's conduct
towards us. Had she dropped the remotest hint of her being
engaged to this Malbrook, I would never have endeavoured
to lead my grandson to think of her seriously for one moment."
" Your grandson never has thought of her seriously for
one moment, or for half a moment, dearest grandmother,"
I cried; "so give your mind no concern on that subject
Nothing of the sort could make me happier than to know
that Priscilla Bayard is to marry Frank Malbone; unless it
were to be certain I am myself' to marry the latter's halfsister."
"How can this be? - How could such a thing possibly
come to pass, my child! I do not remember ever to have
heard of this person-much less to have spoken to you on
the subject of such a connection."
"Oh! dearest grandmother, we truant children sometimes
get conceits of this nature into our heads and hearts, without stopping to consult our relatives as we ought to do."
But it is useless to repeat all that was said in the long and
desultory conversation that followed.  I had no reason to
be dissatisfied with my parents, who ever manifested towards
me not only great discretion, but great indulgence.  I confess, when a domestic came to say that Miss Dus was at the
breakfast-table, waiting for us alone, I trembled a little for
the effect that might be produced on her appearance by the
scenes she had lately gone through. She had wept a great
deal in the course of the last week; and when I last saw
her, which was the glimpse caught at the funeral, she was
pale and dejected in aspect. A lover is so jealous of even
the impression that his mistress will make on those he
wishes to admire her, that I felt particularly uncomfortable
as we entered first the court, then the house, and last the
eating- room.
A spacious and ample board had been spread for the accommodation of our large party. Anneke, Priscilla, Frank
Malbone, Aunt Mary, and Ursula, were already seated when
we entered, Dus occupying the head of the table. No one
had commenced the meal, nor had the young mistress of
the board even begun to pour out the tea and coffee (for my
presence had brought abundance into the house), but there




432          TIIE CH AINBEARER.
she sat, respectfully waiting for those to approach who
might be properly'considered the principal guests. I thought
Dus had never appeared more lovely. Her dress was a neatlyarranged and tasteful half-mouraing; with which her golden
hair, rosy cheeks, and bright eyes, contrasted admirably.
The cheeks of Dus, too, had recovered their colour, and her.eyes their brightness. Th'e fact was, that the news of her
brother's improved fortunes had eveu been better than we
were just told.  Frank found letters for him at the'Nest,
announcing the death of his kinsman, with a pressing invi.
tation to join the bereaved parent, then an aged and bedridden invalid, as his adopted son. He was urged to bring
Dus with him; and he received a handsome remittance to
enable him so to do without inconvenience to himself. This
alone would have brought happiness back to the countenance
of the poor and dependent. Dus mourned her uncle in sin.
cerity, and she long continued to mourn for him; but her
mourning was that of the Christian who hoped. Chainbear.
er's hurt had occurred several days before; and the first
feeling of sorrow had become lessened by time and reflection. His end had been happy; and he was now believed
to be enjoying the fruition of his penitence through the
sacrifice of the Son of God.
It was easy to detect the surprise that appeared in the
countenances of all my parents, as Miss Malbone rose, like
one who was now confident of her position and claims to
give and to receive the salutations that were proper for the
occasion. Never did any young woman acquit herself
better than Dus, who curtsied gracefully as a queen; while
she returned the compliments she received with the selfpossession of one bred in courts.  To this she was largely
indebted to nature; though her schooling had been good.
Many of the first young women of the colony had been her
companions for years; and in that day, manner was far
more attended to than it is getting to be amongst us now. My
mother was delighted; for, as she afterwards assured me,
her mind was already made up to receive Ursula as a daugh.
ter; since she thought it due to honour to redeem my
plighted faith. General Littlepage might not have been so
very scrupulous; though even he admitted the right of the
obligations I had incurred; but Dus fairly carried him by storm.




THE  CHAINBEARER.                 433
The tempered sadness of her mien gave an exquisite finish
to her beauty, rendering all she said, did, and looked, that
morning, perfect. In a word, everybody was wondering;
but everybody was' pleased. An hour or two later, and after
the ladies had been alone together, my excellent grana.
mother came to me and desired to haw a little conversation
with me apart. We found a seat in the arbour of the court;
and my venerable parent commenced as follows:" Well, Mordaunt, my dear, it is time that you should
think of marrying and of settling in life. As Miss Bayard
is happily engaged, I do not see that you can do better than
to offer to Miss Malbone. Never have I seen so beautiful a
creature; and the generous-minded Pris. tells me she is as
good, and virtuous, and wise, as she is lovely. -She is well
born and well educated; and may have a good fortune in
the bargain, if that old Mr. Malbone is as rich as they tell
me is, and has conscience enough to make a just will.
Take my advice, my dear son, and marry Ursula Malbone."
Dear grandmother! I did take her advice; and I am
persuaded that, to her dying day, she was all the more happy
under the impression that she had materially aided in bring.
ing about the connection.
As General Littlepage and Colonel Follock had come so
far, they chose to remain a month or two, in order to look
after their lands, and to revisit some scenes in that part of
the world in,which' both felt a deep interest. My mother,
and Aunt Mary, too, seemed content to remain; for they
remembered events which the adjacent country recalled to
their minds with a melancholy pleasure. In the meanwhile
Frank went to meet his cousin, and had time to return, ere
our party was disposed to break up. During his absence
everything was arranged for my marriage With his siste;.
This event took place just two months, to a day, from that
of the funeral of Chainbearer. A clergyman was obtained
from Albany to perform the ceremony, as neither party
belonged to the Congregational order; and, an hour after
we were united, everybody left us alone at the'Nest, on their
return south. I say everybody, though Jaap and Susquesus
were exceptions. -These two remained, and remain to this
hour; though the negro did return to Lilacsbush and Satans.
toe to assemble his family, and to pay occasional visits.
37




434          THE  CHAINBEARER.
There was much profound feeling, but little parade at the
wedding. My mother had got to love Ursula as if she were
her own child; and I had not only the pleasure, but the
triumph of seeing the manner in which my betrothed ren.
dered herself from day to day, and this without any other
means than the mos artless and natural, more and more
acceptable to my friends.
" This is perfect happiness," said Dus to me, one lovely
afternoon that we were strolling in company along the cliff
near the Nest-and a few minutes after she had left my
mother's arms, who had embraced and blessed her, as a
pious parent does both to a well-beloved child —" This- is
perfect happiness, Mordaunt, to be the chosen of you, and
the accepted of your parents! I never knew, until now,
what it is to have a parent. Uncle Chainbearer did all he
could for me, and I shall cherish his memory to my latest
breath-but uncle Chainbearer could never supply the place
of a mother. How blessed, how undeservedly blessed does
my lot promise to become! You will give me not only
parents, and parents I can love as well as if they were
those granted by nature, but you will give me also two such
sisters as few others possess!"
"And I give you all, dearest Dus, encumbered with such
a husband that I am almost afraid you will fancy the other
gifts too dearly purchased, when you come to know him
better."
The ingenuous, grateful look, the conscious blush, and
the thoughtful, pensive smile, each and all said that my
pleased and partial listener had no concern on that score.
Had I then understood the sex as well as I now do, I might
have foreseen that a wife's affection augments, instead of
diminishing; that the love the pure and devoted matron
bears her husband increases with time, and gets to be a part
and parcel of her moral existence. I am no advocate of
what are called, strictly, " marriages of reason" —I think
the solemn and enduring knot should be tied by the hands
of warm-hearted, impulsive affection, increased and strength.
ened by knowledge and confidential minglings of thought
and feeling; but, I have lived long enough to understand
that, lively as are the passions of youth, they produce no




THE  CHAINBEARER.                  435
delights like those which spring from the tried and deep
affections of a happy married life.
And we were married! The ceremony took place before
breakfast, in order to enable our friends to reach the great
highway ere night should overtake them. The meal that
succeeded was silent and thoughtful. Then my dear, dear
mother took Dus in her arms, and kissed and blessed her
hgain and again. My honoured father did the same, bidding my weeping, but happy bride remember that she was
now his daughter. "Mordaunt is a good fellow, at the bottom, dear, and will love and cherish you, as he has pro.
mised," added the general, blowing his nose to conceal his
emotion; " but, should he ever forget any part of his vows,
come to me, and I will visit him with a father's displeasure."
" No fear of Mordaunt-no fear of Mordaunt," put in
my worthy grandmother, who succeeded in the temporary
leave-taking-" he is a Littlepage, and all the Littlepages
make excellent husbands. The boy is as like what his
grandfather was, at his time of life, as one pea is like another. God bless you, daughter-You will visit me at
Satanstoe this fall, when I shall have great pleasure in
showing you my general's picture."
Anneke, and Kate, and Pris. Bayard hugged Dus in such
a way that I was afraid they would eat her up, while Frank
took his leave of his sister with the manly tenderness he
always showed her. The fellow was too happy himself,
however, to bc shedding many tears, though Dus actually
sobbed on his bosom. The dear creature was doubtless running over the past, in her mind, and putting it in contrast
with the blessed present.
At the end of the honey-moon, I loved Dus twice as
much as I had loved her the hour we were married. Had
any one told me this was possible, I shodlfd have derided the
thought; but thus it was, and, I may truly add, thus has it
ever continued to be. At the end of that month, we left
Ravensnest for Lilacsbush, when I had the plemsure of seeing my bride duly introduced to that portior. of wh&t is
called the world, to which she properly belonged.  Pre.
viously to quitting the Patent, however, all my plans were
made, and contracts were signed, preparatory to the con



436          THE CHAINBEARER.
struction of the house that my father had mentioned.. The
foundation was laid that same season, and we did keep our
Christmas holidays in it, the following year, by which time
Dus had made me the father of a noble boy.
It is scarcely necessary to say that Frank and Pris. were
married, as were Tom and Kate, at no great distance of
time after ourselves. Both of th6se matches have turned
out to be perfectly happy. Old Mr. Malbone did not survive
the winter, and he left the whole of a very sufficient estate
to his kinsman. Frank was desirous of making his sister
a sharer in his good fortune, bilt I would not hear of it.
Dus was treasure enough of herself, and wanted not money
to enhance her value in my eyes. I thought so in 1785,
and I think so to.day.  We got some plate and presents,
that were well enough, but never would accept any portion
of the property. The rapid growth of New York brought
our vacant lots in' that thriving town into the market, and
we soon became richer than was necessary to happiness. I
hope the gifts Qf Providence have never been abused. Of
one thing I am certain; Dus has ever been far more prized
by me than any other of my possessions.'I ought to say a word of Jaap and the Indian. Both are
still!i-ing, and both dwell at the Nest. For the Indian I
caused a habitation to be erected in a certain ravine, at no
great distance from the house, and which had been the
scene of one of his early exploits in that part of the country.
Here he lives, and has lived for the last twenty years, and
here he hopes to die. He gets his food, blankets, and what.
ever else is necessary to supply his few wants, at the Nest,
coming and going at will. HIe is now drawing fast on old
age, but retains his elastic step, upright movement, and
vigour. I do not see but he may live to be a hundred,
The same is true of Jaap. The old fellow holds on, and
enjoys life like a true descendant of the Africans. He and
Sus are inseparable, and often stray off into the forest on
long hunts, even in the winter, returning with loads of veni.
son, wild turkeys, and other game. The negro dwells at
the Nest, but half his time he sleeps in the wigwam, as we
call the dwelling of Sus. The two old fellows dispute frequent..y, and occasionally they quarrel; but, as neither drinks, the
quarrels are never very long or very serious. They generally




THE  CHAINBEARER.                  437
grow out of differences of opinion on moral phikoophy, as
connected with their respective views of the past and the
future.
Lowiny remained with us as a maid until she made a
very suitable marriage with one of my own tenants. For
a little while after my marriage I thought she was melan.
choly, probably through regret for her absent and dispersed
family; but this feeling soon disappeared, and she became
contented and. happy. Her good looks improved under tho
influence of civilization, and I have the satisfaction of add.
ing that she never has had any reason to regret having at.
tached herself to us. To this moment she is an out.door
dependant and humble friend of my wife, and we find her
particularly useful in cases of illness among our children.
What shall I say of'squire Newcome l He lived to a
good old age, dying quite recently; and, with many who
knew, or, rather, who did not know him, he passed for a
portion of the salt of the earth. I never proceeded against
him on account of his connection with the squatters, and he
lived his time in a sort of lingering uncertainty as to my
knowledge of his tricks. That man became a sort of a deacon in his church, was more than once a member of the
Assembly, and continued to be a favourite recipient of public favours down to his last moment; and this simply because his habits brought him near to the mass, and because
he took the most elaborate care never to tell them a truth
that was unpleasant. He once had the temerity to run
against me for Congress, but that experiment proved to be
a failure. Had it been attempted forty years later, it might
have succeeded better. Jason died poor and in debt, after
all his knavery and schemes. Avidity for gold had over-eached itself in his case, as it does in those of so many
others. His descendants, notwithstanding, remain with us;
and, while they have succeeded to very little in the way of
property, they are the legitimate heritors of their ancestor's
vulgarity of mind and manners-of his tricks, his dissimu.
lations, and his frauds. This is the way in which Provi.
dence " visits the sins of the fathers upon the children, unto
the third and fourth generations."
Little more remains to be said. The owners of Moosevidge have succeeded in selling all the lots they wished to
37*




438          THE CHIAIN.BEARER.
put into the market, and large sums stand secured on them
in the way of bonds and mortgages. Anneke and Kate
have received fair portions of this property, including much
that belonged to Colonel Follock, who now lives altogether
with my parents. Aunt Mary, I regret to say, died a few
years since, a victim to small-pox. She never married, of
course, and left her handsome property between my sisters
and a certain lady of the name of Ten Eyck, who needed
it, and whose principal claim consisted in her being a third
cousin of her former lover, I believe. My mother mourned
the death of her friend sincerely, as did we all; but we had
the consolation of believing her happy with the angels.
I caused to be erected, in the extensive grounds that were
sid out around the new dwelling at the Nest, a suitable
monument over the grave of Chainbearer. It bore a simple
inscription, and one that my children now often read and
comment on with pleasure. We all speak of him as " Uncle
Chainbearer" to this hour, and his grave is never mentioned
in other terms than those of " Uncle Chainbearer's grave."
Excellent old man I That he was not superior to the fail
ings of human nature, need not be said; but, so long as he
lived, he lived a proof of how much more respectable and
estimable is the man who takes simplicity, and honesty, and
principle, and truth for his guide, than he who endeavours
to struggle through the world by the aid of falsehood, chi
calery, and trick.
TH    E]ND  OP CIIAINBEARBRI