Читать книгу The Frontiersmen - Gustave Aimard - Страница 6

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"'Tis pleasant, through the loop-holes of retreat,

To peep at such a world; to see the stir

Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd;

To hear the roar she sends, through all her gates,

At a safe distance, where the dying sound

Falls, a soft murmur, on the uninjured ear."

WILLIAM COWPER

The individual we have mentioned, who now came rapidly, towards Ralph, was somewhat advanced in years—not less, perhaps, than sixty. Yet, in his whole bearing and appearance could be seen the iron frame and hardihood, which in these days have given place to a certain effeminacy of manners. The hardy, robust race of men who cleared our forests, and encountered cheerfully the sufferings and privations, and endured the toil incident to a pioneer life, are passing away; and however much our vanity may suffer in making the confession, their sons and successors are apt to lack in those iron qualities which succeeded against obstacles, the magnitude of which most of us do not appreciate.

The countenance of this individual exhibited tokens of the energy of this now nearly departed class of men; yet upon it, at the same time, glowed an expression of honesty and intelligence, which at once win the heart and command confidence and respect. The frosts of time had but lightly touched his hair, and at the first glance, one would have guessed him at least ten years younger than he actually was.

Matthew Barton, for such was his name, about two years before the period we have assigned for our narrative, had left one of the settlements at the eastward, and removed with his family to this remote region. He had been unfortunate in his pecuniary affairs, and his confidence had been betrayed by a friend for whom he had incurred obligations nearly to the amount of his small fortune. With the remains of his little property he had removed to the west, advancing beyond the remotest dwelling in this section of the State. He was satisfied that he had years of labor left in him yet; and with a prudent foresight, he saw that a few years, at most, would surround him with neighbors, who would be likely to follow him to the fertile and beautiful valley he had selected. Suddenly, perhaps, for one advanced to his age, and yielding partially to the feelings of mortification he endured at the idea of struggling with poverty among those who had seen him in a more prosperous condition, he resolved upon this course, and it was at once adopted.

His wife had died a number of years before, leaving him but one child, a daughter, who at this time had arrived at about twenty years of age. He had purchased, with the remains of his property, a negro, to assist him in his farming operations, and thus provided, we behold him in the new house of his old age.

Ralph advanced rapidly forward to meet him, and hearty were the greetings between them.

"Right glad am I to see you here, Ralph," said Barton, "yours is the first friendly face I have seen from the settlements in many a day; and I can say, too, that there is no other I would more gladly see. Oneidas and Tuscaroras are well enough in their place, but it does one good to see a little of the old eastern blood, once in a while."

The first greetings over, Ralph, with a blush—very faint indeed, but still a blush—of which the old gentleman was entirely unconscious, inquired about his old playmate, Ruth.

"Well and happy, Ralph—at least, as happy as one can be, so far from friends; but she will be right glad to see you, I doubt not."

Ralph introduced Ichabod to Mr. Barton, as a worthy gentleman from the settlements, who had been induced to accompany him through the wilderness; and the party then proceeded towards the cottage, which, on a nearer approach, if it lost some of the enchantments which distance had lent it, gained on the score of adaptation to the purposes for which it had been erected. It was situated in the midst of a few acres of land which had been almost entirely cleared, and which showed abundant signs of having already repaid, for the season, the labor which had been bestowed upon it. A log barn had been erected, a short distance from the house, and about the premises were seen the usual fixtures of a pioneer habitation. The house itself was built of logs, but they had been hewn and squared with some care; and, altogether, it had the appearance of a neat and comfortable residence. It had, also, with a foresight against contingencies which might occur, been adapted as a place of defense against any attacks which might be made upon it by Indians.

"Stir your shanks, Sambo!" said Barton to the negro, "and inform your mistress that she has visitors coming."

The negro hurried away on his errand, while the party proceeded more leisurely towards the dwelling.

Ralph was welcomed by Miss Barton with all the warmth and pleasure that might have been expected from their early friendship. Years had elapsed since they had been separated, and, in the look of mutual joy and pleased surprise at the changes which time had wrought in each other, might be traced, perhaps, in both, the existence of a tenderer feeling than belongs to mere friendship.

Ruth Barton, as we have already said, was about twenty years of age. In figure, she was of the medium female height, but with a form fully developed by healthful exercise; her countenance possessed a gentle quietness, which was peculiarly feminine; but withal it gave evidence of a confidence and self-reliance necessary to the women as well as to the men of the frontier settlements of that period. She was, as her appearance would indicate, the life of the family—always busy in the labors and duties of the household; and, under her superintendence, there were a regularity and neatness which, to the most fastidious of housekeepers, might perhaps have been a little surprising. But these were not the only qualifications which Ruth Barton possessed. She was not satisfied with the mere routine of ordinary duties, but she had found time to adorn her mind with many of the accomplishments of education—far beyond most of those even, who were elevated above her by the means and opportunity of acquiring a thorough education. Her mind was of a somewhat imaginative cast, and she possessed a deep and quiet love for the beauties of Nature. She loved her new home in the wilderness—the beautiful valley which her father had selected, possessed charms which she admired; and she had never wished to exchange it, though solitary and neighborless, for the more populous country in which she had once resided.

There was also present in the room an ill-clad, stout-looking man, by the name of Guthrie, apparently about forty-five years of age. His countenance had a vulgar cast; and it wore, besides, an ill-natured expression, that repelled any attempt at an intimate acquaintance. This Guthrie had, during the war of the Revolution, been a Tory; and it had been suspected that he was one of the most active agents in inciting the Indians of this locality to revolt. He resided at some distance below, on the river, in a log shanty erected by him. He was a sort of squatter, and tilled a few acres which had been partially cleared by the Indians years before; but relied principally upon his gun and fish-pole for a livelihood. Occasionally he went to the settlements with such skins or other articles as he could exchange. He was merely tolerated in the family of Mr. Barton, whenever he made his appearance; and knowing the ill favor with which he was received, it was seldom that he intruded himself upon them.

As the party entered the door, Guthrie, who had been sitting listlessly by the fireside, arose with a sort of dogged air; but as the tall figure of Ichabod met his eye, he shrank quietly back again, and endeavored, as much as possible, to withdraw himself from observation. Ichabod did not observe him, or, at least, exhibited no signs of recognition.

"We have been expecting you, Captain Weston, for some days," said Ruth; "we learned by Guthrie, who came about a week ago from the settlements, that you had returned from the army; and we have been awaiting the fulfilment of an old promise to visit us."

"I left Philadelphia but a few weeks since," replied Ralph: "I was mindful of my promise, and set out on my visit here as soon as my business arrangements would allow; but I hardly think I should have found my way here at all, had it not been for my friend, Mr. Jenkins. He picked his way through your wilderness like an old acquaintance."

Ichabod acknowledged the attention which this remark attracted towards him, by gradually elevating his form and replying:

"Well, these woods are something like an old acquainance to me, seeing as how I have been through here on some sharp war paths, afore now. It was down yonder in them flats, we had a terrible skrimmage with them red sarpints the Senecas and Onondagas; but we gave 'em a touch of Independence, con-found 'em!"

"How long ago, Mr. Jenkins," asked Barton, "did the fight which you mention occur?"

"Well, as near as I can calculate, I should think it was in the fall of '79."

"That must have been the same affair which I have heard you mention, Guthrie," said Barton, addressing that individual, who sat in the corner of the large fireplace, with his hat drawn over his eyes.

"Yes," growled Guthrie, without moving.

"What! old veteran, was you there, too?" asked Ichabod, approaching him.

"No, I wan't there," replied Guthrie ferociously, partly turning his face towards Ichabod.

"Well, you needn't be so savage about it, friend," said Ichabod, slowly. "Them that fout there, so far as I know, hadn't nothing to be ashamed on." Then turning away, he muttered to himself, "I've seen them features afore, somewhere—down in the settlements, perhaps. But I say, Squire," turning towards Barton, "you've done a mighty smart business, clearing up here, lately."

"Yes, something of a business. We have not been idle. Sambo and I have got ten or fifteen acres pretty well cleared."

In the meantime, Ruth was busy making preparations for the family supper, and providing otherwise for the comfort of their guests. Guthrie took the opportunity quietly to leave the room, and with his rifle on his shoulder, proceeded rapidly in a southerly direction.

The conversation then turned upon the political condition of the country, the depreciated state of the currency, and the anticipated proceedings of Congress.

"The greatest difficulty that lies in the way of a proper management and settlement of our affairs," said Ralph, in reply to some remark of Barton, "it seems to me, is in the limited powers of Congress. Impotent for any purpose, it has a herculean task before it. I think it will be found necessary to adopt a stronger government."

"No, no," replied Barton, who seemed to be tenacious of State rights, and to labor under a great fear of the evil consequences of a centralization of power. "Congress has power enough. The disorders under which the country labors, would have been no less under any form of government. Without resources, in a long and harassing war, the burden of indebtedness and the depreciated condition of the currency, were unavoidable; but all that will be necessary to restore us, will be a few years of peace. Things will come round of themselves."

"But," said Ralph, "how is our indebtedness to be paid? The country is already exhausted by taxation. The States themselves are overburdened with their own debts: when to these are added those contracted by Congress, it is very difficult, under the present order of things, to see our way clearly out of our embarrassments. No credit in Europe—no money at home—no confidence anywhere. With a few years of peace, had Congress the power to levy impost duties, much might be done. Even the late measure of a proposed impost duty of five per cent. has been lost by the obstinacy of Rhode Island, which would not concur in the measure."

"Say, the patriotism of Rhode Island, rather," answered Barton, "if that term may be applied to a State. I look upon that system of impost duties as a direct robbery of the people. Give Congress that power, and you give away the whole property of the nation. Duties would be laid that would deprive the poorer classes of all the comforts—ay, of many of the necessaries of life. That won't do."

"How, then," asked Ralph, "would you pay off our indebtedness, and support the burthens of government?"

"By direct taxation!"

"But that system, you would find, I think," said Ralph, "would not answer the purpose. It would only reach a certain class, and would be very strongly resisted. But, by the other system, the trifling addition to the cost of articles of general consumption would be little felt, and after a time, would be generally acquiesced in. Besides, all classes of persons would be reached, and almost universally in proportion to their means."

"It is only a return to the principle of the stamp act," said Barton, who was a little excited; "and our seven years of warfare and suffering will have been useless, if, after all, we are to permit any authority, in its discretion, to impose burdens upon us."

"I don't know about that, Squire," interrupted Ichabod, who had listened to this discussion with much interest, and to whose mind the factory speculation proposed to Ralph, recurred. "Wouldn't such a system a little better allow us to take care of ourselves? Couldn't we a little easier build up manufactories of our own? Just add that five or ten per cent, to the profits of our own manufacturers, and pretty soon we'd hold them furrin manufacturers off at arm's length. You'd see factories of all sorts starting up all over the country, and there would be a pleasure in that, to a man who loved his own country—to wear cloth and drive nails made at home. Now, couldn't you, Squire if a duty of ten or fifteen per cent, was laid on woollen fixins', afford to go into the factory business, on your own hook, on this river of your'n, here?"

"Fiddlesticks!" ejaculated Barton, "what could I do in the factory business?"

"Well, perhaps you mightn't do anything at it, Squire," replied Ichabod; "but somebody else might. Now, suppose somebody should locate a business of that kind down here, I'll tell you how you could make a nice spec out of it, without laying out any capital at all—although it would be kind'er fair to lend a helping hand, jist to start, perhaps, seeing you could make so well out of it."

Barton looked at Ichabod, as if he began to doubt his sanity; but to Ralph, the earnestness of the one and the surprise of the other, was a matter of great amusement.

Ichabod continued, pleased at the surprised attention which Barton was giving to him:

"You see, Squire, s'pose that business should be started down here, jist opposite them flats, it would be necessary to bring in lots of people, and you could lay out them flats into building-lots, and realize something handsome out of it."

"Pshaw!" said Barton, "a city down here! Well, I'll tell you what I'll do, Mr. Jenkins. I'll give you the land for your factory, together with your water-privilege, and we'll divide the profits on the city lots;" and the old gentleman laughed heartily at the suggestion.

"That's what I call fair," said Ichabod, slowly; "but couldn't you, Squire, do a little something towards furnishing the capital?"

"Furnishing the capital!" ejaculated Barton; "why, as to that, I haven't capital enough to furnish my own farm, small as it is. No: I think, Mr. Jenkins, I have made you a very fair offer."

Just at this moment, Sambo announced their supper to be ready, and Ichabod was obliged to desist from the further prosecution of his project. But, extremely well satisfied with the progress already made, he began seriously to dream of the manufacturing firm of "Barton, Weston, Jenkins & Co."