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But O, the blooming prairie,
Here are God's floral bowers,
Of all that he hath make on earth
The loveliest.
This is the Almighty's garden,
And the mountains, stars, and sea,
Are naught compared in beauty,
With God's garden prairie free.
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STILL IN OREGON CITY — THE SECRET UNDIVULGED — A DILEMMA — RESOLVE TO MAKE IT KNOWN — A STROLL — INTERRUPTION — EVA MORTIMER — BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE MORTIMERS — RESOLVE TO GO IN SEARCH OF MY FRIEND.
It was the last day of May, in the year of our Lord 1843. Already the earth felt the genial air of summer, and looked as smiling as a gay maiden in her teens. The blade had covered the ground with a carpet of matchless green, amid which, their lovely faces half concealed, bright flowers of a hundred varieties, peeped modestly forth to render the landscape enchanting, giving their sweet breath to a southern breeze that softly stole over them. The trees in every direction were in full foliage, and already among them could be seen green bunches of embryo fruits. It was in fact a delightful day, a delightful season of the year, and a delightful scene upon which I gazed, with feelings, alas! that had more in them of sadness than joy.
I was still in Oregon City; but two months had flown since on the banks of the romantic Willamette I offered my hand, heart, and fortune to Lilian Huntly, and was accepted, only to find the nuptial day prolonged to an indefinite period — the return of my friend and her brother. I did not describe my feelings then to the reader; but, as he or she must have imagined, they were very painful. I had deceived Lilian and her mother, I knew, in leading them to hope, even, for the return of Charles Huntly, and I felt stung to the very soul, as one guilty of a crime. What was I to do? Should I avow all to Lilian and make her wretched by destroying all hope of ever seeing Charles again? or should I still let her remain in blissful ignorance of his fate, and look in vain to the future for the consummation of her ardent wishes? It was a painful dilemma. The first was the most open, upright, and straight-forward manner of settling the matter, most undoubtedly; and conscience and a first impulse urged me to it; but then, a doubt in my own mind that he was really dead — a faint, a very faint hope that he might sometime return to his friends — a loathing to inflict a wound upon the affectionate heart I loved, which time alone could heal, perhaps cause needless suffering to one who had already suffered enough — restrained me; and between a desire to do right, and a fear to do wrong, I did nothing but muse abstractedly, the result of which was, in my own mind, to take a day for thought, and then decide. But the next day found me in the same quandary, and the next, and the next.
Thus days rolled on, one after another, and at the end of the month I was as undecided as ever; and though daily basking in the smiles of Lilian, and listening to her artless words of musical sweetness, not even a hint had I ever thrown out regarding what I knew of her brother. Often would she mention him, but always in a way to denote she scarcely had a doubt of seeing him the coming summer; and the thought that she must be disappointed, ever tended to make me sad and melancholy. I had never objected to the indefinite period fixed on for our wedding, for the simple reason that, to object, was only to subject myself to an inquiry into the cause, and this I feared. What was I to do? The question came up night and day, at all times and in all places, and troubled me sorely — so much so, in fact, that I began to fear its effects upon my constitution.
At last I resolved to tell her all, and for this purpose invited her one morning to our usual stroll on the banks of the Willamette. The day was fine, and everything around beautiful. We took our way directly to the falls, and paused upon a bluff immediately over the rolling, sparkling waters. This bluff, which is the bank of the stream at Oregon City, varies from twenty to eighty feet in hight, and, running back, forms the level upon which the town was then just beginning to be laid out. The scene was charming, notwithstanding it was in the wilderness. A beautiful forest stretched away on either hand— below us rolled the river, roaring over the falls — and on the opposite side rose similar bluffs, and another pleasant forest. It seemed a place fitted for the communion of lovers; and here Lilian and I had whiled away our happiest hours. Here I had offered my hand to her — here been accepted — and of course the scene could not but recall pleasant associations. Hither then we strayed; and as we paused above the bright river, Lilian exclaimed, with a look of joy:
"O, it will be so delightful when Charles joins us! Do you know what I have determined on, Frank?"
"Surely not," I answered.
"Do you see that level yonder (pointing down the stream), which sets off so pleasantly below this, shaded by those tall old trees?"
"Ay, I see, Lilian."
"Well, there I have planned having such a pic-nic, on the day when—when we—"
She paused, and blushed, and glanced timidly at me, as if expecting I would complete the sentence. I did not, for my mind was busy with sad thoughts. Now, thought I, is the time to tell her all. But how should I begin to pain her! I was uneasy, and felt miserable, and doubtless looked as I felt, for the next moment she added, in some alarm:
"Why, Francis, what is the matter? You look so pale! Has anything happened?"
"Nothing new."
"What then? You always look so pained when I allude to brother Charles! Surely there must be some cause! Have you kept anything hidden from me? Speak, Francis! — you left him well, did you not?" and she grasped my arm, and looked earnestly in my face.
"I did, Lilian."
"Well, what then? You must have no secrets from me now, you know."
I must tell her, I thought, and there can never be a better time than this.
"Lilian," I began, and my voice trembled as I spoke: "Lilian, I —"
"What ho! my lovers, are you here?" shouted a merry voice. "I thought I should find you here;" and the next moment we were joined by the gay, light-hearted Eva Mortimer. "In the name of humanity," she said, as she came bounding up to us, "what makes you both look so pale? Not making love again, I hope;" and she ended with a ringing laugh which, however pleasant it might have sounded at another time, now jarred most discordantly with the feelings of both.
"No, not exactly making love, Miss Mortimer," I answered, turning to her with a forced smile, and, if truth must be owned, rather rejoiced than otherwise that she had broken off what must have proved a painful interview.
"Well," she rejoined, playfully, brushing back her dark ringlets with one of the prettiest white, dimpled hands in the world— mind I say one of the prettiest, reader, for of course I considered Lilian's equal, if not superior: "Well, I am glad to hear that, for I feared, from your sober looks, you were either getting into a lover's quarrel, or going over a nameless scene that was enacted here some weeks ago;" and she looked meaningly, first at Lilian, who colored deeply, and then at me, who I fancied stood it like a philosopher. "Come," she added, in the same gay tone, "I have use for you both all day. We— that is I, and my good mother, and yours, Lilian, and some others — have decided on going to see a beautiful lake, which, we are told, ornaments a certain fern bluff that you see away yonder, some half mile back of this magnificent city. City indeed!" she continued, with a curl of the lip. "Why, it might be stolen from the suburbs of Boston, or any other place of note, and never be missed. But mother would come in spite of me, and when she takes a notion in her head she must carry it out. She wishes herself back now, and I join her with all my heart; but, heigh-ho! I suppose I shall have to spend my days here, for I see no means of getting away. But I will tease her, though — I am pledged to that—and that will be some comfort, and save me dying of ennui. Oregon City! Umph! I thought it would turn out to be woods before I came, and I told her so—but she would not believe me. Come, Mr. Leighton, don't be standing there looking so sober! nor you, my bonny Lilian. I am going to have you along, and if I don't make you laugh, why, I will turn in and cry myself. Only to think of being here without a lover! It don't matter with you, Lilian, for you have got one; but think of me, in pity do! Nobody here but some thick-headed rustics that don't know how to make love. I wish your brother would come, Lilian — I am dying to see him. He saved my life, you know, and so I am bound, by all the rules of novels, to fall in love with him out of pure gratitude."
"You will not need gratitude, I fancy," added I, with a sigh at the thought of him, "Should you ever be fortunate enough to see him; for he is a noble fellow, and one I think to your liking."
"Ah!" she replied, "you need not tell me he is a noble fellow—for none but such would have risked his life as he did for a stranger. I have been in love with him ever since I heard about it, though I had long ago given up all hope of ever seeing him."
"And he will be ready, I will vouch for him, to reciprocate the tender feeling."
"Do you think so?" she said, slightly blushing, and her eyes sparkling. "O, that will be so romantic! and I love romance dearly. I will have him down upon his knees at every frown, and will frown twenty times a day, just to have him down on his knees. Now that will be making love to some purpose, eh?" and giving vent to a ringing laugh, she added, taking my arm: "Come, don't let us keep the good people waiting, or they may get off the notion, and I would not miss seeing the lake for a costly ruby."
My design of telling a sad tale was thus broken off, and, as I said before, I was not sorry for it. Arm in arm with the two, I returned to what was denominated the village, Eva the while chatting away gaily, flying from one thing to another, but ever adroitly returning to Charles Huntly, showing that he now occupied no small share of her thoughts.
From the specimen given, it will be seen that Eva Mortimer was a very different being from Lilian Huntly; and as she is destined to figure more conspicuously in these pages than the previous ones, I consider the present a good opportunity to describe her.
In person, Eva Mortimer was slightly above medium, with a form well developed, and a bust of rare beauty. Her complexion was clear and dark, though scarcely sufficient to entitle her to the appellation of brunette. Her soft, hazel eyes, shaded by silken lashes, were very expressive, and could look love languishingly, or sparkle with the poetry of mirth, anger, or any of the passions of impulse. Her features were regular and very prepossessing, with a nose slightly acquiline, and mouth and lips as tempting as one would care to look upon. Her disposition accorded with her looks. At heart she was open and generous, with a desire to please and be pleased, let fortune smile or frown. Her spirits were almost ever buoyant, and it required a strong cause to depress them. Very different from some, she could not easily be brought to consider this bright earth as only a grave yard, and herself a mournful inhabitant, ever stalking among tombs. She did not believe in storm, and cloud, and dreariness, so much as in an open sky, sunshine, cheerfulness and joy. It would have required great depth of reasoning to convince her that God had placed man here expressly to mope out his days in gloom and sorrow, either real or imaginary. She did not fancy the dark side of the picture; and full of the poetry of an ardent temperament, there was to her in the sunshine, the breeze, the leaf, the blade, the flower, the mount, the vale, the storm, and, in fact, in everything of nature, something to excite joy rather than sadness. Whatever her fortune, she took care to make the best of it and not repine. She was lively even to gayety, and could rattle on for hours in a light, frolicsome strain, calculated to mislead such as look not below the mere surface; but those who judged Eva Mortimer by this, judged wrongly; for beneath was a heart as warm, as earnest, as pure, as true, as ever beat in the breast of woman. This was the drift, the foam, that floated along on the strong current of a noble mind. Had you seen and listened to her in her merry moods, you would have thought, perhaps, she had no mind above trifles, or beyond the mere present; that she was vain and coquettish to a fault; that she would take no delight in serious meditation; and yet you could not easily have erred more in judgment. I have seen her alone, in the night, gazing at the stars for hours, when she thought no human eye beheld her. I have watched her musing over a flower, while leaf by leaf she dissected it, as if to lay bare its mysteries — over the pebbles which she had gathered in some ramble—over a leaf, a blade of grass, and, in fact, over whatever had chanced in her path—in a way to show her possessed of mind, and that of the highest order.
There were but few in her present locality who really knew Eva Mortimer; and none who seemed to appreciate her as did Lilian. In their short acquaintance, these two bright beings had become friends; not the cold, unmeaning term of the world — but friends sincere and true, and bound by a tie beyond the power of death itself to sever. Like the magnet and the needle had they come together, to be held by attractions peculiar to themselves. To each other their hearts were ever open, and the joys and sorrows of the one, were the joys and sorrows of the other. They talked together, walked together, read together, (each had brought a few choice books,) sang together, and both ever seemed happier on all occasions for the other's presence. They were nearly of the same age, of different temperaments, and united like the different strings of a harp, to bring forth nothing but music. In short, they loved each other—not with the evanescent love of fiery passion, which burns and freezes alternately — but with that deeper and truer love which springs from admiration of, and dependence on, in a measure, the qualities we do not possess ourselves. It was a holy love—the love of two fair maidens just budding into womanhood.
Am I getting tedious, reader—presuming too much upon your indulgence—keeping you too long from the more exciting part of my story? Well, then, I will press forward; for much is to be said and done ere my task be finished.
Of the early history of Eva Mortimer, I at this time knew but little, and this I had gleaned from Lilian. Her mother, a woman between forty and fifty years of age, was a native of England, of wealthy parentage, but not of noble birth. Some twenty-five years before the date of these events, she had clandestinely married a French exile, apparently without name or fortune, rather for the love of romance, and because she was strongly opposed by her friends, than for any real affection which she felt toward the individual himself. This proceeding had so incensed her parents, that they had cast her off; but unlike most parents in such cases, unwilling she should suffer too much, had offered her a life annuity above want, on condition she quitted the country immediately and returned to it no more. To this she had readily assented, and shortly after, with her husband, had embarked for America, and had finally settled at Quebec, in Canada, where for several years they had continued to live together, though not, it must be confessed, in the most harmonious manner. Being rather head-strong and self-willed, and withal possessed of an independence, Madame Mortimer sought to have everything her own way, and had not scrupled occasionally to make her husband feel he was her debtor for every luxury he enjoyed. Of a proud spirit, and a temper somewhat irritable, he had not displayed any too much Christian humility, meekness and resignation, and many a bitter quarrel had been the consequence.
Time rolled on, and at the end of five years she had given birth to female twins. Both had been hoping for a male heir; and consequently this event, instead of mending, had rather served to widen the breach. Quarrel succeeded quarrel, and as love was wanting to harmonize two opposing spirits, it was at last found necessary to separate. Two years had passed meantime, when one morning Mortimer came into the presence of his wife, with a letter in his hand, and abruptly announced his intention of leaving her.
"As you like," returned Madame Mortimer, coolly.
Mortimer turned and left her, nor had she ever beheld him since. The night following, the twin sister of Eva disappeared, and the most diligent inquiries, together with the offer of a large reward, had failed in restoring her to her anxious mother. The effect of this upon Madame Mortimer proved very severe — for she loved both her children dearly—and a nervous fever was the result, which nearly cost her her life. Soon after this she received news of her father's death, and that, having repented his rashness, he had left her a rich legacy, with permission to return to England. To England, therefore, she went, and there had remained, superintending the education of Eva, until a desire of travel had brought her once more to this country, whither she had come in company with her daughter and a wealthy American lady, whose acquaintance had been made across the water, and who subsequently introduced her into New-York society, simply as Madame Mortimer, without a word of explanation, this being at her own earnest request. Thus it was, as I have before mentioned, none who met her in society had been able to learn who she was or whence she came, and this had doubtless added to her popularity. This was all I had been able to gather from Lilian, and all, in fact, she knew; and this had been picked up at different times, from remarks that had escaped the lips of Eva in her more communicative moods.
In person, Madame Mortimer was large, with a full, handsome countenance, expressive black eyes, and a bearing dignified and queen-like. At heart she was kind and affectionate; and doubtless, had she been properly mated, would have made an exemplary wife. Her passions, when excited, were strong to violence, with a temper haughty and unyielding to an equal, but subdued and mild to an inferior. She loved passionately, and hated madly. With her, as a general thing, there was no medium. She liked or disliked, and carried both to extremes. She was a woman of strong mind, much given to thought and reflection, an acute observer of everything around her, and just sufficiently eccentric to throw the freshness of originality over all she said or did. She would do what she thought was proper, without regard to the opinion of others, or what the world would say. She had resolved on a journey to Oregon, not for any particular purpose, but merely to carry out a whim, and see the country. She had done both, was dissatisfied with her present locality, and now designed returning to the States the first favorable opportunity.
But to return from this digression.
Of the fate of her brother, Lilian still remained ignorant; for after the interruption of Eva, I could never summon enough moral courage to again attempt the sad narration. As time rolled on, I became more and more depressed in spirits, and more perplexed as to the course I should pursue. It was not impossible, I began to reason, that Charles Huntly might be living; and the more I pondered on this, the more I was inclined to believe it the case. He had been lost mysteriously, in a part of the world notoriously infested with robbers and Indians. If captured by the former, there was no argument against the supposition that he had been plundered and sold into slavery. If by the latter, might he not have been adopted by some tribe, and now be a prisoner? In either case, was I not in duty bound to go in quest of him, and, if found, to rescue him from a horrible doom, either by ransom or force? At all events, I said to myself, I can but fail, and may succeed.
On leaving home, I had supplied myself with a large amount of gold to meet all contingencies, and but little of this had been expended. I could, perhaps, engage a party, for a reasonable sum, to accompany me; and this, after duly weighing all the circumstances, I had decided to attempt on the morning I have chosen for the opening of this chapter. I would let Lilian and the others suppose I had gone home, and that I should probably return with Charles Huntly. Having settled the matter in my own mind, I resolved on immediate action, and for this purpose called Teddy aside to communicate my intention.
"Teddy," I began, gravely, "did you love your former master?"
"Me masther!" repeated the Irishman, with a look of curious inquiry, "and sure, of who is't ye're speaking, your honor?"
"Of Charles Huntly."
"Did I love him, is't? Faith, and does a snapping turtle love to bite, or a drunkard to drink, that ye ax me that now?—Love him? Troth, and was he living, I'd go to the ind of the world and jump off jist to plase him, and so I would."
"Maybe, Teddy, you can serve him more effectually than by a proceeding so dangerous."
"Sarve him, is't! Och, now, I'd be after knowing that same!"
"I've taken a fancy into my head that he is living."
"Howly St. Pathrick! ye don't say the likes!" exclaimed the Hibernian, holding up both hands in astonishment. "Ye're joking, sure, your honor?"
"No, Teddy, I am serious as a judge. I have always had some faint doubts of his death, and now these doubts have grown strong enough to induce me to set off in search of him;" and I proceeded to give my reasons.
"Ah, sure," said Teddy, as I concluded, "This is a happy day for me mother's son, if nothing comes on't but parting wid— wid—"
"But, Teddy, I had designed taking you along."
"And sure, Misther Leighton, is'nt it going I is wid ye, now? D'ye think I'd be afther staving behind, like a spalpeen, and ye away afther Misther Huntly, pace to his ashes, barring that he's got no ashes at all, at all, but is raal flish and blood like your own bonny self, that's one of the kindest gintlemen as iver wore out shoemaker's fixings, and made the tailor blush wid modesty for the ixcillent fit of his coat?"
"But you spoke of parting, Teddy!"
"Ah, troth, and ye a gallant yourself, your honor, and not sae it was a wee bit of a female parthing I's mintioning, jist?"
"Female parting! I do not understand you."
Here Teddy scratched his head, and looked not a little confused.
"Why, ye sae, your honor," he replied, hesitatingly, "ye sae the womens (Heaven bliss their darling sowls!) is all loveable crathurs, and it's mesilf that likes to maat 'em whereiver I goes; but somehow, your honor, a chap's like to be thinking of one, more in particular by raason of his nathur; and that's the case wid mesilf now, and Molly Stubbs that lives yonder, barring that it's hardly living at all that she is in this wild counthry."
The truth flashed upon me at once. One of the settlers, who had come here in advance of my friends, had a large, buxom, rosy-cheeked daughter of eighteen, who went by the euphonious appellation of Molly Stubbs—sometimes, Big Molly— and I now remembered having seen Teddy idling about the premises, though at the time, without a suspicion of the real cause.
"And so, Teddy, you have been making love, eh?"
"Divil a bit, your honor."
"How? what?"
"No! ye sae it was all made to me hand, and I've ounly been acting it out, jist."
"Aha! exactly. And so you think you can part with your belle ami , eh?"
"And sure, if it's Molly Stubbs you maan by that Lathin, it's mesilf that can say the farewell handsome, now."
"Well, make your parting short, and then see to having the horses got ready, for in less than three hours we must be in our saddles."
With this I turned away, and with slow steps, and a heart by no means the lightest, sought the residence of Lilian to communicate the unpleasant intelligence, that in a few minutes we must part, perhaps to meet no more.
INFORM MY FRIENDS OF MY RESOLVE—THEIR SURPRISE—DEPARTURE POSTPONED ONE DAY—PREPARATIONS—GENERAL LEAVETAKING— TRYING INTERVIEW WITH LILIAN, AND FINAL ADIEU.
As I neared the residence of Mrs. Huntly and Lilian, (which had also been mine for some months) for the purpose of bidding my friends another long adieu, I heard the merry voice and ringing laugh of Eva Mortimer. Another time this would have been music to my ears; but now my spirits were greatly depressed, and I was not in a mood to appreciate it. The cabin—it would scarcely bear a more exalted title—seemed surrounded with an air of gloom. It was as good as any, better than most, which formed the village of Oregon City; but yet, what a place to be the abode of those who had been used all their lives to the luxurious mansion of wealth!—and I could not avoid making a comparison between the condition of the tenants now, and when I had approached to bid them farewell some three years before— nor of thinking with what Christian-like resignation they had borne, and still bore, their misfortunes. Their present dwelling was built of unhewn logs, whose crevices were filled with clay, had a thatched roof, puncheon floors, and three apartments. One of these had been assigned to Teddy and myself, another to Lilian and her mother, and the third answered the treble uses of parlor, sittingroom and kitchen. A few beds and bedding, a table, one or two chairs, together with a few benches, and the most common househould utensils, comprised the principal furniture. And this was the abode of the lovely and once wealthy heiress, Lilian Huntly! And she could seem contented here! What a happy spirit, to adapt itself to all circumstances— to blend itself, if I may so express it, with every fortune!
With this reflection I crossed the threshhold, and beheld Lilian and Eva in gay conversation, and Mrs. Huntly seated by the table, perusing a book. Both the young ladies turned to me as I entered, and Eva at once exclaimed:
"So, Mr. Francis, you have just come in time—we have it all settled."
"May I inquire what?" returned I, gravely.
"May you inquire what?" she repeated, with a playful curl of the lip. "Did you ever see such a starch, ministerial look, Lilian?—as grave is he as a sexton. Why, one would suppose all his friends were dead, and he had come to invite us to the funeral. Heigh-ho! if ever I get a lover, he shall wear no such look as that; if he do, it will be at the risk of having his hair combed and powdered, I assure you."
"But I have reason for looking grave," I replied.
"Eh! what!" cried Eva, changing instantly her whole expression and manner "Surely you have no bad news for us?" and she approached and laid her hand upon my arm, with a troubled look, while Lilian sunk down upon a seat, as if she had some sad foreboding, and Mrs. Huntly turned her eyes upon me inquiringly.
"Give yourselves no alarm," I hastened to reply. "I have only come to say, we must separate for a time."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Eva, looking serious.
"You have heard tidings of Charles?" added Mrs. Huntly.
I glanced at Lilian, but she said not a word, though all color had forsaken her features.
"No, I have not heard from Charles," I rejoined, in answer to Mrs. Huntly; "but presume I shall ere I return."
"Good heavens! then you are going far?" cried Eva, in astonishment.
"I contemplate making a journey to the east, and may meet Charles on the way, in which case I shall return at once— otherwise, I may be absent the summer."
"Why, Francis, what has made you resolve thus so suddenly?" inquired Mrs. Huntly. "How are we to do without you? I thought—(she paused and glanced toward Lilian, who had turned her head aside and seemed deeply affected,)—that—that you intended to pass the summer with us."
"Cruel man," said Eva, in a whisper, "how can you leave the sweetest being on earth? O, you men!" And then she continued aloud: "I wish we were all going with you. Can you not take us all along?"
"Why, I fear it would not be safe."
"As safe as it is here, I am certain. Surely we could not be more than killed if we went, and who knows but some of these Indians, that are in the habit of visiting our great city here, may take a notion we have lived long enough, and so murder us all, or marry us, which would be the same thing! But whoever knew a gentleman gallant enough to do what was asked of him? Ah! I see—you don't even listen now—your thoughts are all with somebody else—and so I will retire. Let me know when it is over, as I wish to bid you adieu;" and she darted out of the room.
Mrs. Huntly was on the point of interrogating me farther, but perceiving by a sign from Lilian that the latter wished to see me alone, she made some excuse, and went into an adjoining apartment. The moment she had disappeared, Lilian sprang up and flew into my arms.
"Is this true, Francis?" she exclaimed. "Are you really going to leave us?"
"I fear I must for a time," I said, in a not very firm voice.
"A long time then," sighed the fair girl; "a long time, if you are going east. O, Francis, I did not think we should part so soon! What have you heard? Something, surely—for you have never intimated this before—and you would not deceive one who loves you!"
This was said so touchingly, with such naivete, that for a time I only replied by pressing her more closely to my heart, and imprinting a kiss upon her ruby lips.
"I cannot tell my Lilian everything," I at length made answer. "Suffice, that I have important reasons for going; and sometime, God willing, you shall know all. My resolution to leave was formed to-day, and to-day we must part."
"To-day?" she gasped, and I felt her whole form quiver like a reed shaken by the wind. "O, no! not to-day, Francis! that would be too much—too sudden! You must not go to-day!"
"Why not, dearest? I shall return one day sooner for it doubtless; and it will be as hard to part to-morrow as to-day."
"But it is so sudden—so unexpected," she pleaded. "Delay till to-morrow Francis!"
"Well, anything to please you," and I stamped the promise with the seal of love "Be cheerful as you can in my absence Lilian, and when I return with your brother—"
"O, then you are going to find him!" she exclaimed, interrupting me. "That return will be joyful indeed! Poor Charles! If you do not meet him on the way, most likely you will in Boston. Cheer him all you can, Francis, and tell him we are as happy as circumstances will allow us to be."
"Beg pardon, your honor," said the voice of Teddy at this moment, startling Lilian, like a frightened roe, from my arms. "Beg pardon for interrupting yees— but the baast ye buyed this while ago, is not inywhere to my knowing."
"Never mind, Teddy, go and hunt it. It must be about, unless the Indians have stolen it, in which case I must get another. Hunt for it—I shall not leave to-day."
"Troth, thin, I'll 'av another parthing mesilf, jist," returned Teddy, as he disappeared with a pleased look.
At this moment Mrs. Huntly, hearing another voice, reappeared, and my tete-a-tete with Lilian was for the present broken off. The former had a great many questions to ask me—why I had decided leaving so suddenly—when I expected to reach Boston, and the like—so that I had no little difficulty in replying in a way not to commit myself. Then she had letters to write to her friends; and Lilian had letters to prepare also; and the news of my departure having circulated quickly through the village, numbers called to see me, to send messages and letters to their native land—so that with listening to their requests, to an extra amount of advice as to the proper mode of conducting myself under all circumstances, and attending to my own affairs, I was kept busy all day, without the opportunity of another private interview with Lilian.
A fine horse, which I had purchased a few days before of an Indian, was lost— the owner I suppose, or some of his friends, thinking it best to recover the animal without troubling me in the matter at all, Consequently, another beast was to be procured; and as this was for Teddy, I allowed him to make his own selection— the one I had ridden hither still being in my possession.
At last, everything being prepared, I retired to my couch, heartily fatigued with my day's work. But thought was too busy to allow me much sleep; and I question if at least one other did not pass a restless night from the same cause; for on appearing in the morning, I noticed the features of Lilian were very pale, and her eyes red as if from recent weeping. But she seemed firm, ready to endure the separation, and uttered not a single word of complaint. I could have loved her for this, if for nothing else—her conduct was so womanly and sensible. She did not feel the less, that she did not show it more, I knew. She was about to part with one she had loved from childhood— one to whom her heart and hand were given — and this in a strange, wild country, for a long separation, full of peril to both, with no certainty of ever seeing him again. It could not but be painful to her in any situation—doubly so in the one she was placed — and I fancy I appreciated her noble firmness as it deserved.
The countenances of Mrs. Huntly, Madame Mortimer, Eva, and many others, all were grave; and I read in their looks unfeigned sorrow at my close-coming departure. The morning meal was partaken in silence, as all were too sad and full of deep thought for unnecessary conversation.— Ere it was finished, my friends had all collected to bid me farewell and God speed; and the announcement by Teddy that the horses were ready, was the signal for me to begin the parting scene. Commencing with those I cared least about, I shook each heartily by the hand, and passed from one to the other as rapidly as possible.
"Francis Leighton," said Madame Mortimer, when I came to her, and her hand pressed mine warmly, and her voice trembled as she spoke, "remember that to you and your friend my daughter owes her life, and I a debt of gratitude that may never be canceled. If my prayers for your safe and happy return be of any avail, you have them. God bless you, sir! and remember, that whatever may happen in this changing world, in me, while living, you have a warm friend; and (approaching and whispering in my ear) so has Lilian and her mother. While I have aught, they shall never want. Farewell, my friend, farewell—but I hope only for a time."
It may not surprise the reader, if I say the pressure of my fingers was none the less for this information, nor my heart any heavier, unless it was by the additional weight of tears of joy.
Madame Mortimer stepped aside, and I turned to Eva. There was no merriment in her look—nothing light upon her tongue.
"You have heard the words of mother," she said, impressively. "They are not meaningless. To you and your friend I am indebted for my life. My conversation at times may have seemed light and trifling; but notwitstanding, Francis, I would have you believe, there is a heart beneath all that does not overlook the merits of its friends, nor feel lightly for their welfare. When you see your friend, tell him that he is prayed for daily, by one who, though she never saw, can never cease to remember him. Adieu! and may God bear you safely through all peril!" and she turned away, as if to hide a tear.
"Francis," said Mrs. Huntly, striving to command her voice, which trembled not a little, as she held both my hands in hers: "Francis, it is hard—very, very hard—to part with you. But I suppose I must, and hope it is all for the best. I have had so much trouble within a few years—have seen so many of those I once supposed my friends forsake me—that it really becomes grievous to part with any of the few I have tried and not found wanting. But go, Francis, and God protect you! Should you be fortunate enough to meet with dear Charles (here her voice faltered to a pause, and she was forced to dash away the tears dimning her eyes),—tell— tell him all. Break the matter gently, if he does not already know it—and—and comfort him the best way you can. My love, my deepest, undying love to your parents and all my friends. There— there—I can say no more—no more. Go, Francis, and God's blessing and mine attend you! Good-by! farewell!" and shaking my hands warmly, with her head averted, she dropped them and disappeared into another apartment, seemingly too much affected to tarry longer in my presence.
With a proper delicacy, for which I gave them ample credit, one after another departed, until I was left alone with Lilian.
While these several partings were taking place, she had remained seated, watching the whole proceedings, with what feelings, I leave lovers to judge. I now turned to her, and felt the grand trial was at hand, and my heart seemed in my very throat. Her sweet countenance was pale and death-like, her very lips were white, and her eyes full of tears. There was no shyness—no trembling—no apparent excitement. She seemed, as her heavenly blue eyes fixed upon mine, rather a beautiful figure, cut from the purest marble, cold and motionless, than a living, breathing human being. But oh! what thoughts, what agonies were rending that soul within, mastered only by a most powerful will! With a step none of the firmest, I approached and took a seat by her side, and laid my hand upon hers.
"Lilian," I said, in a scarcely articulate voice: "Lilian, the time has come to—to—part."
She did not reply in words—she could not; but she sprang to her feet, her ivory arms encircled my neck, and her feelings found vent in tears upon my heaving breast.
Smile, if you will, reader—you who have passed the romantic bounds of a first pure and holy passion, and become identified with the cares and dross of a money-getting, matter-of-fact, dollar-and-cent-life— smile if you will, as your eye chances upon this simple passage, and curl your lip in proud disdain of what you now consider foolish days of love-sick sentimentality; but remember, withal, that in your long career of painful experience, you can refer to no period when you felt more happiness more unadulterated joy, than that when the being of your first ambition and love lay trustingly in your arms. It is a point in the life of each and all, who have experienced it (and to none other are these words addressed), which can never be erased from the tablet of memory; and though in after years we may affect to deride it as silly and sentimental, it will come upon us in our reflective moments like a warm sunshine suddenly bursting upon a late cold and gloomy landscape and insensibly, as it were, our spirits will be borne away, to live over again, though briefly, the happiest moments of our existence. The man who has passed the prime and vigor of manhood without ever having felt this—without this to look back to—I pity; for he has missed the purest enjoyment offered to mortal; and his whole path of life must have been through a sterile desert, without one garrer blade or flower to relieve its barrer aspect.
For some moments the heart of Lilian beat rapidly against mine, and her tear flowed hot and fast. I did not attempt to restrain the latter, for I knew they would bring relief to an overcharged soul, and I rejoiced that she could weep. At length they ceased, and Lilian spoke.
"I will not detain you longer, dear Francis. Between you and I who know each other so well, words are idle and unmeaning, or at least, unexpressive of our feelings. Avoid danger for your own sake, and for the sake of her who loved you; and do not forget that she will count the days, the hours, ay, the minutes, of your absence."
"I will not, dearest Lilian," I exclaimed, straining her to my breast, and pressing my lips again and again to hers. "I will not forget what you have told me. I will not forget there lives an angel to make happy my return, and God send my return may make her happy also! Adieu, dearest— take heart—do not despond—and Heaven grant our meeting may be soon There, God bless you! and holy angels guard you!" and taking a farewell salute, I gently seated her as before, and rushed from the cottage.
Two fiery horses stood saddled and bridled at the door, pawing the earth impatiently. Everything was ready for a start; and snatching the bridle of one from the hand of Teddy, I vaulted into the saddle. The next moment I was dashing away through the forest at a dangerous speed, but one that could scarcely keep pace with my thoughts.
A RECKLESS RIDE—LUDICROUS APPEARANCE OF TEDDY—KILL A BUCK—INDIANS— FRIENDLY SIGNS—CLOSE QUARTERS—A TALK—GIVE THEM TOBACCO—TREACHERY— DEATH OF THE TRAITOR—PURSUE OUR COURSE.
With the mind completely engrossed, the body often acts mechanically, or by instinct, and performs, without our knowledge at the time, exactly what reason would have dictated; and when some trifling circumstance recalls us to ourself, we arouse as from a dream, and are surprised at what has been accomplished during our brief alienation.
So was it with myself in the present instance. On, on I sped as if riding for life, my hand firmly upon the rein, guiding unerringly my high-mettled beast, and yet unconscious of anything external, with thoughts wild and painful rushing through my brain. How long or far I had ridden thus, I do not exactly know; though miles now lay between me and Oregon city; nor how much longer I should have continued at the same break-neck speed, had my horse not stumbled and thus broken the monotony of a steady ride, by unseating and nearly throwing me over his head.
Recovering my position, and reining my steed to a halt, I found him covered with foam, and very much blown from his late run; and that I was upon a narrow upland prairie, which stretched away before me for several miles, fringed on either hand, at no great distance, with a beautiful wood.
"Where am I!" was my first involuntary exclamation—"how did I get here with a whole neck? and where is Teddy?"
The last question found a more ready answer than either of the preceding, in a shout from the veritable Teddy O'Lagherty himself. I looked behind and beheld him coming as if on a race with death for the last half hour of his existence. His appearance was not a little ludicrous. His body was bent forward at an angle of fortyfive degrees, so as to allow him to grasp the mane of the beast,—his only hope— his feet having slipped from the stirrups which were dangling against the animal's flanks, and serving the purpose of spurs— while his hat, for security, being held in his teeth, smothered the shouts he was making to attract my attention. Add to this, that the horse had no guide but his own will, that at every spring Teddy bounced from the saddle to the imminent danger of his neck, and greatly to the aid of his digestive organs, and an idea of the discomfiture of the poor fellow may be formed, as his horse dashed up along side of mine, and came to a dead halt.
It is said there is but one short step from the sublime to the ridiculous, and I certainly felt the force of the proverb on the present occasion. I had been half mad with distracting thoughts; but everything was now forgotten, and I burst forth in a roar of laughter, such as I am certain had never startled those solitudes before.
"Be howly jabers!" cried Teddy, regaining an upright position, with a face the hue of a boiled lobster, "is ye mad now, ye divil—beg pardon!—your honor I maan. Howly jabers! what a ride! Och! I'm done for—claan murthered intirely—all pumice from me toes upward, barring me body and head-piece, jist."
"Why, Teddy," returned I, as soon as I could get calm enough to command my voice, "what new feature of horsemanship is this you have adopted? I am sure you would make your fortune in any circus, with such a heroic display of your animal capacities."
"Ah! ye may laugh and be d—plased to yees; but it's me mother's own son as feels more as crying, so it is. Fortune, is it, ye mintioned! Be howly St. Patrick's birthday in the morning! it's not mesilf that'ud do the likes agin for twinty on 'em. Och! I'm killed intirely—all barring the braathing, as lingers still."
"Well, well, Teddy, I trust you will not have to repeat it," pursued I laughing. "But come—where do you think we are?"
"Think, is it? Ye ask me to think? Sure, divil of a think I 'av in me now. I lift it all on the road, that was no road at all, but the worst traveled counthry I iver put eyes on. We may be among the Hindoo heathen, for all me knows conthrawise; for not a blissed thing did I sae on the journey, but r-rocks, traas and stumps, and the divil knows what all, and thim a going so fast I's could'nt git time to say good-by to 'em."
To the best of my judgment, we had come about five miles, in a direction due east. Far in the distance before me, I now beheld the lofty, snow-crowned peak of Mount Hood; and toward this, without farther delay, we bent our steps, at a pace strongly contrasting the speed which had borne us hither.
"Why did you not call to me, when you saw me riding at a rate so fearful?" I inquired, as I rode along at a brisk trot.
"Call, is it?" replied Teddy. "Faith! jist ax me lungs if I did'nt call, till me breath quit coming for the strain upon'em."
"And so you could not make me hear, eh?"
"Make the dead hear! Och! I might as well 'av called to a graveyard, barring the looks of the thing. Was ye mad, your honor?"
"O no, Teddy; only a little excited at parting with my friends."
"Ah! thim same parthings is mighty har-r-d, now, so they is," rejoined Teddy, with a sigh.
"So you can speak from experience, eh?"
"Be me troth, can I, now; and so can Molly Stubbs, the swaat crathur, that she is."
"Did it break her heart, Teddy?"
"It's not asy for me to say, your honor; but it broke her gridiron, and the ounly one she had at that, poor dear!"
"Her gridiron!" I exclaimed, struggling to repress my risible faculties, and keep a grave face, for I saw Teddy was in sober earnest, and apparently totally unaware there was anything ludicrous in his remark. "How did it affect the gridiron, Teddy?"
"Why, ye sae now, she was jist holding it betwaan her two fingers, and fixing for a fry maybe, whin up I comes, and tapping her under the chin, by raason of our ould acquaintance, I sez:
"'It's a blissed day I saw ye first, my darling.'
"'That it was, Misther O'Lagherty,' see she.
"'I wish that first maating could last foriver,' sez I.
"'And so do I,' sez she.
"'But it wo'nt,' sez I; and thin sighed, and she axed me what was the mather.
"'Oh! worra! worra!' I sez; 'it' about to part we is, Molly, dear.'
"'Ye do'nt say the likes,' sez she; and thin down come the gridiron, as if the Ould Scratch was a riding it, smash upon the stone harth, and into my arms pitched Molly, wid a flood of tears that made me look wathery for a long occasion.
"Now it's not what we did afterwards I'm going to till at all, at all; but while we both come sensible, our eyes besaw the gridiron all broke, and not wort a ha'-pence. Molly cried, she did, and I give her a month's wages to ase her conscience Musha, now, but parthings is har-r-rd they is."
In this and like manner I managed to relieve my mind of many gloomy thoughts which otherwise must have depressed it I had parted the second time with Lilian for a journey equally as full of peril as the first, and, if anything, of a more indefinite character. I was going in search of my lost friend, it is true; but what little chance had I, I thought, when I came to look at it soberly, of finding him, even if alive. I might travel thousands on thousands of miles—be months, even years, on the search—and yet be no nearer revealing his locality than when I set out. If living, it was a mere chance we should ever meet again; and nothing, perhaps, but a kind Providence could bring us together. As may be inferred, when I quitted my friends in Oregon City, I had no definite plan arranged; and now that I was really on the journey, the question naturally arose as to what I should do, how first to proceed, and where to begin. I had resolved on engaging assistance, but where was this to be found? For some time I puzzled my own brain with the matter, and then referred it to Teddy.
Though brought up in an humble sphere of life, with very little education, Teddy was nevertheless a keen, shrewd observer, and of excellent judgment in matters coming within the range of his intellect and experience; and accordingly I relied much upon his advice.
Having heard the case fully stated, with the dignified gravity of a judge, and asked several pertinent questions, he replied, that our best course, in his humble opinion, was to continue our present route as far as Fort Hall, where we would be likely to augment our number to our satisfaction, and could then proceed in a southerly direction and be guided by succeeding events.
As this tallied exactly with my own views, the plan was quickly adopted, and I rode forward with great mental relief, that I now had a fixed purpose, whether right or wrong.
For several miles our course lay over the upland prairie I have mentioned, and then the ground changed and became more rolling, which in turn gave place to hills, sometimes sparsely and sometimes densely wooded, interspersed with rocks, gullies, and deep ravines, that greatly impeded our progress. We halted to noon in a little valley, through which, with a roaring sound over its rocky bed, dashed a bright stream of pure water, on whose banks grew rich, green grass, of such luxuriance as to satisfy the appetites of our animals in a very short time.
While partaking of some plain food, of which we had a small store, we amused ourselves by overhauling our rifles, examining their priming, as well as our other weapons and ammunition, and seeing that everything was in proper condition to meet danger. Scarcely was this over, when in a whisper Teddy called my attention to a fine, fat buck, which was trotting along within rifle shot. Quick as thought, I drew up my piece and fired. The animal instantly bounded forward a short distance, reeled, and fell over upon its side.
The next moment we were on our way to examine the carcass, and take from it the most suitable portions for our wants. We had scarcely proceeded twenty paces, when Teddy grasping my arm, exclaimed: "Injins, be jabers!"
And sure enough, just issuing from a clump of bushes on the opposite side of the valley, distant less than two hundred yards, were six half-naked savages, armed, two of them with rifles or muskets, and the others with bows and arrows. As it was impossible to divine their intentions, only by their acts, and as they made straight toward us, I snatched Teddy's rifle from his hands, and ordering him to load mine as quick as possible, raised it to my shoulder, determined, should they prove hostile, to sell my life dearly, and die, if I must, with the satisfaction of having done my duty in self-defence.
Perceiving my movement, they came to a halt, and made me friendly signs, by extending their open hands and then placing them on their hearts. Dropping the muzzle of my rifle, I did the same, and then waited for them to come up, though, it must be confessed, with not the most faith imaginable in their amicable professions. However, I kept well on my guard, and by the time they had shortened the firstmentioned distance between us by a hundred paces, Teddy coolly announced that two bullets were at their service, at any moment they might choose.
Ere they joined us, I had made them out by their costume and paint, to belong to the Chinnook tribe, whose grounds lie due north of Oregon city, on the opposite side of the Columbia river. I had frequently seen more or less of them in the village; and had, in fact, purchased the horse, mentioned as being stolen, from one of their tribe; so that I now feared less a design upon my life than upon my property.
The party in question were all inferior beings, both in size and appearance; but one seemed superior to the others, and possessed of command. He approached me in advance of his companions, and held out his hand, which I accepted and shook in a friendly manner. He next proceeded to Teddy, and each in turn followed his example. When all had done, the chief addressed me in broken English:
"Where you come?"
"The village, yonder," I replied, pointing with my finger toward Oregon city.
"Where go?"
"Away beyond the mountains;" and I pointed eastward.
"Good muskee (musket) got?"
I nodded in the affirmative.
"Good hoss got?"
I nodded again.
"Good present got, eh? poor Injin, eh?"
"I have nothing but some tobacco I can spare," I answered, of which I still had a pretty good supply.
"Ugh! bacco good," rejoined the chief, with a smile.
This was in my sack on my horse, and I was not sorry of an excuse to get to him without showing myself suspicious of my new acquaintances; for I had noticed many a wistful glance cast in that direction, and I feared lest, presuming on our weakness, they might think proper to take our animals by a coup de main, and leave us to make the best of it. Accordingly, I informed the savage where the article was, and that I must go alone and get it.
"Why me no go?" he asked.
"Then your followers must stay beind."
"Why dey no go?" he inquired, a little angrily as I thought.
"Because I shall not permit it," I replied, decisively.
"Ugh! we so—you so," he rejoined, holding up first six and then two fingers, to indicate the number of each party. "We strong—you weak, we go, eh?" and he made a step forward.
In an instant the muzzle of my rifle was pointed at his breast, and my finger on the trigger, a movement imitated by Teddy, who quickly covered another.
"Another step, chief," I said, "and you are a dead man,"
"Back, ye divils—ye dirthy blaggards! d'ye hear the gintleman spaking to yees now?" shouted Teddy.
This peremptory decision had a salutary effect upon the white-livered knaves, who instantly shrank cowering back, the chief at once exclaiming, in a deprecating tone:
"No shoot. We no go. You go."
Fearing treachery, we instantly started for our horses, keeping our faces to our foes, and our rifles leveled, prepared for the worst. Having secured a few plugs of the desired article, we both mounted and returned to the savages, among whom I made an immediate distribution. The chief thanked me, and said they would now go home. Accordingly, the whole party set off in one direction, and we in another, rifles in hand. We had scarcely gone twenty paces, when crack went a musket behind us, and a ball whizzed over my head.
"The treacherous scoundrel!" I exclaimed; and wheeling my horse as I spoke, I beheld the whole six running and dodging for their lives. Singling out the villain that had fired at us, I drew up my rifle and pulled trigger. The next moment he lay howling in the dust, deserted by his cowardly friends, whose speed seemed greatly accelerated by this ever.
Teddy would have gone back for his scalp, but this I would not permit, both on account of its barbarity, and that by delay we might encounter another party. Setting spurs to our horses, therefore, we dashed rapidly away, leaving our game and foes behind us, and congratulating ourselves upon our providential escape.
For the rest of the day our progress was by no means slow, though the traveling at times most execrable. The sun was already throwing a long shade to the east-ward, when, ascending a rough, stone ridge, which we had been forced to do circuitously, we beheld below us a beautiful plain of miles in length and breadth along the eastern portion of which towere the lofty Cascade mountains, with the ever lasting snow-crowned Mount Hood rising grandly above all, till lost beyond the clouds, glittering like a pinnacle of burnished silver in the rays of the sinking sun. It was a sublime and beautiful scene for the painter and poet; and for many minutes I paused and gazed upon it with feelings of reverence and awe for the great Author of a work so stupendous. A similar feeling must have possessed Teddy for he instantly crossed himself and repeated the pater-noster.
Descending to the base of the hill, we found a suitable place and encamped. Though greatly fatigued, I did not rest well; and either my thoughts, or the dismal howl of surrounding wolves, or both, combined with other circumstances, kept me awake most of the night.
PASS MOUNT HOOD AT THE CASCADES— ARRIVE AT FORT WALLA-WALLA—ENLIST A FRENCH VOYAGEUR—FRENCH AND IRISH— A QUARREL—A CHALLENGE—A FIGHT— FOES BECOME FRIENDS.
Early the following morning we were on our feet, and having partaken a slight repast, we mounted and set off toward Mount Hood. The traveling was now good, being over a rolling prairie, which, as we neared this collossal crection of nature, gradually became more and more level, so that our horses being refreshed and full of fire, our speed was all that could be desired even by the most impatient. Before noon we reached the base of Mount Hood; and if I had thought it sublime at a distance, I now felt, as it were, its sublimity in an awful degree. Up, up, up it rose, until my eyes became strained to trace its glistening outline in the clear, blue ether. Its base surrounded with sand, dead trees, and broken rocks, which had accumulated there, perhaps, by the torrents of ages, as they rushed and roared down its jagged sides. For a considerable distance above the plain, it was well timbered; then came a long stretch of green grass; then a long barren spot; and then commenced the snow and ice, which rose far beyond the ordinary hight of the clouds—the whole combined, forming a spectacle of which the pen can convey no adequate idea. To the right and left stretched away the Cascades, which, stupendous of themselves, seemed as molehills in compare with Mount Hood. Far to the south rose the lofty peak of Mount Jefferson, and as far to the north, on the other side of the Columbia, that of Mount St. Helens.
Having gazed upon the scene to my satisfaction, I turned my horse to the right, and began my ascent up a valley, formed by the partial meeting of two hills, and down the very bed of which roared a sparkling streamlet. The farther I ascended, the more wild the scene, the more precipitous and dangerous the path. In fact, on three occasions we were obliged to dismount and lead our horses for a considerable distance, and once our steps had to be retraced for half a mile, in order to pass around a frightful chasm. Near the summit of the ridge we came upon a fine spring, and an abundance of grass. Here we encamped for the night, during which I slept soundly.
The following day was cold and stormy, with sleet and snow. This may surprise the reader, who bears in mind that it was now June; but snow-storms on the mountains are not regulated altogether by the seasons, and are frequently known to occur in one part of the country, while in another, not ten miles distant, the heat may be excessive. As all are aware, the higher we ascend, the colder the atmosphere; and on many high mountains in southern climes, there may be all kinds of temperatures from the torrid to the frigid— from the valley of dates, figs and oranges, to the peaks of never-melting ice and snow—and this within the distance of five or ten miles.
Ere we raised our camp, I shot a mountain goat, being the first game we had killed since the buck of unfavorable memory. Of this we prepared our breakfast, and also put a few choice pieces in our "possibles," leaving the balance to the wolves, which, in justice to the appreciation they showed thereof, I must say, was nothing but a pile of shining bones, ere we were fairly out of sight. I now consulted an excellent map, which I had procured from one of the emigrants, and referring to my compass, laid my course a little north of east, so as to strike the Dalles of Columbia, and thus the most traveled route to and from Oregon City.
The day, as I have said, being stormy, and our route lying over a wild, bleak country, served not a little to depress the spirits of both Teddy and myself. Nothing of consequence occurred through the day to distract our thoughts from their gloomy channel, and but little was said by either. By riding hard, we gained the Dalles that night, and encamped on the banks of the Columbia. Eager to arrive at Fort Hall, we again pushed ahead on the succeeding day, and following up the Columbia, reached Fort Walla-Walla on the third from our quitting the Dalles, without any events worthy of particular note.
This fortress, constructed on the plan of Fort Laramie, described in "Prairie Flower," I shall pass without notice, other than to say, it contained a small garrison of resolute and daring adventurers, or rather mountaineers and their squaw wives, who preferred passing their lives here in comparative case, at good wages, to the privations and perils of trapping in the wilderness.
Here I found a number of hardy fellows, who had lately "come in,"—preparing to set off again for the Blue Mountains—some to hunt for game in the forests, and others to trap in the streams. Here were also several friendly Indians (friendly through fear of the whites), the usual number of traders, peddlers, one or two land speculators and fur company agents, and one French voyageur — all more or less engaged in drinking, trafficking, and, gambling, the usual routine of a gathering of this kind.
Thinking it possible to raise a party here, I made a proposition to several, but found all had prior engagements. I next made some inquiries concerning Black George, and learned, much to my satisfaction, that he had been seen quite recently on the Blue Mountains, and that in all probability I should find him at Fort Bois, or Fort Hall, as he was then slowly taking his way eastward.
"If you desire an excellent guide," said an agent to me, "let me recommend to you Pierre Boreaux; who, though somewhat eccentric at times, you will find most faithful in the discharge of his duty. I have tried him, sir, and know."
"Just what I desire, exactly," I replied.
"Come, then," he said; and taking me aside, he presented me to the individual in question, who was none other than the French voyageur previously mentioned.
He was a small, dapper personage, very neat in his appearance, with a keen, restless black eye, and a physiognomy more inclined to merriment than melancholy. His age was about forty, though he ever took pains to appear much younger. His penchant was for the wild and daring; and never was he so well contented, as when engaged in some perilous enterprise. This taken in connection with his jovial turn of mind, may at first seem parodoxical; but it must be remembered, that most persons incline less to their likes than their opposites; and that the humorist is the man who seldom smiles, while the man of gravest sayings may be literally a laughing philosopher. He was much addicted, too, to taking snuff, of which he always managed to have a good stock on hand, so that his silver box and handkerchief were in requisition on almost all occasions. He spoke with great volubility, in broken English, generally interlarded with French, accompanied with all the peculiar shrugs and gesticulations of his countrymen. He was, in short, a serio-comical, singular being of whom I can convey no better idea than to let him speak and act for himself.
"Ah, Monsieur," he said in reply to my salutation, taking a huge pinch of snuff the while and bowing very politely; "ver moche happe make you acquaintones, Will you'ave von tam — vot you call him— happeness, eh? — to take von leetle — I forget him—so—(putting his thumb and finger together, to indicate a pinch), avec moi, eh?"
"Thank you," I returned, "I never use the article in that shape."
"Ver sorre hear him. Vous remember le grand Empereur Napoleone, eh?"
"Ay."
"Ah! von plus great sheneral him He take snoof, eh? Vell, you speak now, you — vot you call him — bussiness, eh?"
"I wish to engage you," I replied, "to go on a journey full of peril, in the capacity of a guide."
"Ou allez-vous?"
"How?"
"Ah, pardonnez-moi! I say, vere you go?"
"To Mexico, perhaps."
"Oui, Monsieur. I shall be ver moche delight, I certainment assure you. Ven you go, eh?"
"I leave here, en route for Fort Hall at daylight to-morrow."
Here the Frenchman took one or two hasty pinches of his favorite, and closing his box, said:
"Von leetle absence, Monsieur. I sall 'ave von ver moche pleasure;" and off he skipped, as gay as a lark, to prepare himself for the journey.
At daylight on the succeeding morning, the Frenchman was at his post, well mounted on a full blooded Indian pony, armed to the teeth, and really looking quite the warrior. Three minutes later we had all passed the gate and were speeding away.
This was the first meeting between Teddy and Pierre, and I soon became aware it was anything but a pleasant one, particularly, on the part of Teddy, who cast many a furtive glance upon the other, expressive of dislike. What this arose from -- whether from jealousy, national prejudice, or contempt for the inferior proportions of Pierre — I was at a loss to determine. Never before had I seen animosity to a fellow traveler so strongly depicted on the features of the faithful Teddy. It might be he fancied the Frenchman of equal grade with himself, and was jealous of his supplanting him in my favor, and this seemed the most probable of the three suggested causes. Pierre, however, showed no ill will to the Irishman, but merely returned his glances with a supercillious look, as though he considered him his inferior. But he could not long remain silent; and so, after riding on briskly for a short distance, he turned to Teddy, and with a mischievous twinkle in his small black eye, said, with much suavity:
"Parlez vous Français?"
"Spake it in Inglish, ye spalpeen! and thin a gintleman can answer yees," replied Teddy, reddening with vexation. "If it's frog language ye's jabbering, sure it's not mesilf as wants to know what ye says, now."
"Que voulez-vous, Monsieur?" inquired the Frenchman, looking slyly at me with a significant shrug, and secretly enjoying the discomfiture of Teddy.
"Quack, quack, quack, kither hoben," rejoined Teddy, fiercely. "Sure, now, and is it that ye can understand yourself, ye tief! It's maybe smart, now, ye's afther thinking yourself, by token ye can say things I don't know the maaning of. And so ye is smart, barring the foolish part, which comprehinds the whole of yees. Troth! can ye fight, Misther Frogeater? Come, now, that's Inglish; and by St. Pathrick's bones! I'll wager ye're too cowardly to understand it."
"Come, come, Teddy," I said, "you are getting personal. I can allow no quarreling."
"Och! there's no danger, your honor," returned Teddy, turning upon Pierre a withering look of contempt. "It's not inny frog-eater as is going to fight his betthers; and sure it's not Teddy O'Lagherty as can fight alone, jist."
Meantime there had been a quiet, half smile resting on the features of the Frenchman, as though he was secretly enjoying a fine joke. Even the abusive language of the excited Irishman did not appear to disturb his equanimity in the least. There he sat, as cool and apparently as indifferent as if nothing derogatory to his fighting propensities had been uttered, or at least understood by him. I was beginning, in fact, to think the latter was the case, or else that Teddy was more than half right in calling him a coward, when I became struck with a peculiar expression, which suddenly swept over his bronzed features, and was superseded by the same quiet smile — as we sometimes at noon-day see a cloud flit over a bright landscape, shading it for an instant only.
Suddenly Pierre reined his pony close along side of Teddy, and in a very bland voice, as if begging a favor, said:
"Monsieur, you say someting 'bout fight, ch? Sare, I sall 'ave le plus grande delight to soot you with un — vot you call him — peestole, eh?"
"The divil ye will, now?" replied Teddy, with a comical look of surprise. "Sure, thin, an' it's mesilf that 'ud like to be doing the same by you, and ye was wort the powther it 'ud cost."
"Sare," returned the Frenchman with dignity, "in my countre, ven gentilshommes go for kill, dey nevare count de cost. I soot you—I cut you troat—I sharge you noting."
"Well, be jabers! since ye've got your foul tongue into Inglish, and be — to yees! I'll do the same for your dirthy self," retorted Teddy; "for it's not Teddy O'Lagherty as 'll be behind aven a nager in liberalithies of that sort, now."
"You are both too liberal of your valor by half," I rejoined, laughing at what I thought would merely end in words.
But I was soon convinced of my error; for scarcely had the expression left my lips, when the Frenchman. sprang from his pony, and strking his hand on his pistols, exclaimed:
"Je l'attaquerai: I vill 'ave at you, Monsieur, ven you do me von leetle honoor, sare."
"It's not long you'll have to wait thin," cried Teddy; and before I could interfere— or in fact was fully aware of what was taking place — he had dismounted and drawn a pistol.
"Tin paces, ye blaggard!" he cried; "and may howly Mary be marciful to yees!"
"Hold!" I shouted. "Rash men, what are you about? I forbid —"
Here I was interrupted by the reports of two pistols, followed by a stifled cry of pain from Pierre, who instantly dropped his weapon, and placed his hand to his shoulder. The next moment I was on my feet, and rushing to his assistance, accompanied by Teddy, whose features, instead of anger, now exhibited a look of commiseration.
"Are you hurt, Pierre?" I inquired, as I gained his side.
"Ver leetle scratch," replied the Frenchman, taking away his hand covered with blood.
I instantly tore away his garments, and ascertained that the ball of Teddy had passed quite through the fleshy part of his arm near the shoulder, but without breaking a bone or severing an artery."
"A lucky escape, Pierre," I said.
He merely shrugged his shoulders, and coolly proceeded to take snuff, with an indifference that surprised me. When he had done, he turned to Teddy with:
"Vill you 'ave von more — vot you call him — le plus grand satisfactione, eh?"
"Sure, and it's mesilf as is not over parthicular inny ways. If ye's satisfied, I'm contint — or conthrawise, as plases ye most."
"Vell, then, suppose we shake hand, eh?" rejoined Pierre. "I soot you—you soot me. Ve'ave both satisfactione, eh?" and the next moment these two singular beings were pleasantly engaged in complimenting each other on his bravery.
O, curious human nature! From that moment Pierre Boreaux and Teddy O'Lagherty were sworn friends for life—non did I ever hear an angry word pass between them afterward.
PASS FORT BOIS—THE HOT SPRINGS—A CAPITAL JOKE — SUPERSTITION OF TEDDY— "THE DIVIL'S TAE-POT" —A NIGHT ATTACK— STRATAGEM OF THE INDIANS FOILED BY PIERRE—FOE PUT TO FLIGHT — FOUR SCALPS—A PACK OF WOLVES—IN DANGER OF BEING DEVOURED—A DISMAL NIGHT OF IT.
Pursuing our course along the banks of the Walla-Walla, we passed Dr. Whitman's station, and camped the following night in a romantic dell at the foot of a ridge adjoining the Grand Round. In the course of the evening we were visited by several Indians, with whom we held a small traffic for provisions. For fear of evil consequences, we kept well on out guard, but they displayed no hostile intentions. Pierre complained somewhat of his arm, which I had bandaged at the time as well as circumstances would permit. I advised him to consult the Indians, who are known to be great proficients in the healing art. He did so, and the result proved highly beneficial; so much so. that he was able to use it sooner than I expected.
The next day we crossed the Grand Round, (a delightful valley of twenty miles in extent, watered by a pleasant stream,) also the Blue Mountains, and descended into the valley of the Snake River. The scenes we passed over were, many of them, wild, and some of them romantic in the extreme; but as more important matters press me, I cannot pause to describe them. The Indians we now beheld on every side of us—but they offered no violence. The third day from crossing the Grand Round we reached Fort Bois, where we passed the night.
The next morning we pursued our journey, having learned, meantime, that Black George, for whom I made particular inquiries, had passed here a few days before, in company with two other trappers, on their way to Fort Hall. This was cheering news to me, and we pushed forward as fast as circumstances would permit, in the hope of overtaking him.
About noon of the third day from leaving Fort Bois, we came upon some half a dozen fine-looking springs, when Teddy declared he must quench his thirst.
As he descended from his horse, the Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and gave me a very significant wink.
"What do you mean, Pierre?" I inquired, fully at a loss to comprehend what seemed to him a capital joke.
"Paix! le diable!" he exclaimed, laying his hand on my arm and pointing to Teddy, who, having reached a spring, was just in the act of bending down to the water. "Monsieur sall see."
"See?" I repeated.
"Oui, Monsieur."
"What shall I see?"
"Och! howly murther! be St Pathrick! jabers!" cried Teddy at this moment, springing to his feet and running toward us with all his fleetness, holding his tongue with one hand, and pressing the other upon his forehead. "Och! murther! I'm dead intirely—bit—ate up—claan killed, I is!"
"What is the matter?" I inquired, unable to comprehend the meaning of such strange actions, while Pierre leaned forward on his saddle and held both hands upon his ribs, fairly screaming with laughter.
"Mather, is't?" rejoined Teddy. "Musha! but it's mather intirely. Me tongue's burnt out of me, jist, barring about sax inches on't."
"Burned, Teddy?"
"Ay, burnt your honor — that's the wor-r-rd, now. Sure, that's the divil's pool, and so it is—and hell must be hereabouts. Och! but I'm in a hurry to lave the spot betimes;" and springing into his saddle he rode away, in spite of my calls to the contrary, as fast as his beast could carry him.
"What is it, Pierre?" I exclaimed; but Pierre was too much convulsed to answer me; and dismounting, I approached the miraculous water myself.
Now I understood the joke; and to do myself justice, I must say I so far imitated the Frenchman, that I was unable to quit, the spot for at least ten minutes. In his eager desire for a cool, refreshing draught, Teddy had plunged his face into, and gulped a mouthful of boiling water, from what are known as the Hot Springs. Of these there are some five or six, the water of which bubbles up clear and sparkling, and, all meeting, form a small stream, which rolls away with a pleasing murmur. No wonder Teddy, not understanding the phenomenon, and being superstitious too, should imagine Old Nick had something to do with it.
"Vell, you see, eh?" exclaimed Pierre, as I remounted. "By gar! him von ver moche good joke. He tink him von diable, eh?" and he ended with another hearty laugh, in which I was forced to join.
About three miles further on we overtook Teddy, whose running ardor had cooled down to a quiet walk.
"Ah, faith!" said he, dolefully, "it's mighty feared I's beginning to git, that ye'd not come at all, at all."
"Why so, Teddy?"
"Oh, worra! worra! that I should iver live to taste the divil's pool! And did ye sae him, body and bones, your honor?— and how did he look, if it's all the same to yees, and he no forbid your tilling raasonably?"
"Why, Teddy, there was nothing to be alarmed at;" and I proceeded to explain the mystery. "It's a very natural phenomenon, I assure you."
"Nath'ral, is it? Och! thin I have it, 'pon me sowl!"
"Have what?"
"Why sure, your honor, I sae claan through it."
"Well, what do you see, Teddy?"
"Musha! but it's the divil's tae-pot."
"Tea-pot?"
"Ah! troth and it is. Ould Sathan is at the bottom of it, does ye mind! He haats the wather there, now, to coax saints to dhrink tae wid him, the spalpeen! and thin he'll make the most of em, d'ye sae, your honor? Och! it's a lucky man Teddy O'Lagherty is for gitting off so asy, barring he's more unlucky by token he wint to the place at all, at all."
It had become a fixed fact with Teddy, which all my jests and arguments failed to alter, that the Hot Springs and his Satanic majesty were indissolubly connected. But this did not lessen the joke, which for a long time afterward served Pierre and myself as a specific for blue devils and ennui.
As I said before, we were now traveling through a country thickly peopled with savages. What we had seen of these appeared to be friendly; but knowing the treacherous nature of many, we felt that self-preservation demanded we should at all times be on our guard. For this purpose, our arms were always ready to our hands in the day time, and at night each took his turn of standing sentinel. Thus far we had escaped all difficulty; but Pierre often warned us not to be too sanguine of reaching Fort Hall without a brush of some kind, as he well knew the nature of those surrounding us.
The sun was just sinking behind the Blue Mountains, when we came to a small stream—a tributary of Snake River—that took its devious course through a valley between two precipitous ridges, and thence through a canon of a thousand feet in depth. The valley was shaded by large trees of various kinds, and was romantic in its appearance. It contained good grazing also, and good water, and this made it a desirable camp-ground. Hoppling our horses and setting them free, we kindled a fire, around which we squatted to cook our meat, smoke our pipes, and fill-up the intervals with the most amusing subjects, among which Teddy and his "divil's tae-pot" came in for their full quota of mirthful comment.
At length we began to grow drowsy, and having seen our animals tethered within the circle of the fire, and it being Pierre's turn to stand guard, Teddy and I threw ourselves upon the ground, our blankets rolled around us, and soon were fast asleep. For an hour or two everything passed off quietly, when Pierre awoke me with a gentle shake.
"Ver sorre, Monsieur, to—vot you call him—deesturb you, eh?—but de tam Injen— sacre le diable!"
"Well," said I, starting up, "what is it? Are we attacked?" and at the same time I awoke Teddy.
"By gar!" returned the Frenchman, "I see von leetle—vot you call him— sneaker, eh? Him creep—creep—creep— and I tink I wake you, sare, and soot him, by tam!"
"Faith, that's it!" cried Teddy, grasping his rifle and springing to his feet: "That's it, now! Shoot the haathen!"
By this time I was fully aroused to the sense of danger; and quickly learning from Pierre where he had seen the savage, I grasped my rifle and sprang beyond the fire-light, in an opposite direction, followed by my companions. We had not gained ten paces, when crack, crack, went some five or six muskets, the balls of which, whizzing over our heads, did not tend to lessen our speed. However, we reached the covert unharmed, and for the time considered ourselves safe. We turned to reconnoiter; but not a sign of a living thing could we see save our horses, which stood with ears erect, trembling and snorting, as if conscious of a hidden foe.
For an hour we remained in this manner, when, concluding the enemy had departed, I proposed returning to the fire.
"Hist!" whispered Pierre, grasping my arm. "You sall see, Monsieur."
And he was right; for not ten minutes afterward, he silently directed my attention to some dark objects lying flat upon the ground, which, with all my experience and penetration, I could not believe were savages, until I perceived them gradually near our horses. Then I became alarmed, lest, reaching them, they might speedily mount and escape, leaving us to make the best of a perilous and toilsome journey on foot.
"What is to be done, Pierre? I fear we are in a bad fix."
"Je me couche—je tire fur lui: I lie down, sare—I soot at him. You sall see. Wait von leetle minneet. Ven you hears my cannon, den you soot and run at him as le diable."
Saving this, Pierre glided away as noiselessly as an Indian, and I saw nothing more of him for several minutes. Meantime, Teddy and I kept our eyes intently fixed upon our stealthy foes; and our rifles in rest, ready to give them their deadly contents at a moment's warning. Slowly, like a cat creeping upon her game, did these half naked Indians, serpent-like, steal toward our animals, every moment lessening the distance between them and the objects of their desires. I began to grow nervous. What had become of Pierre! If he intended to do anything, now I thought was the time. A few moments and it would be too late; and acting upon this thought, I drew a bead upon the most advanced savage, and was about pulling the trigger, when the latter suddenly bounded to his feet, uttered a yell of delight, and sprang toward the now frightened animals, imitated in his maneuver by some ten or twelve others.
"Good Heaven! all is lost!" I exclaimed, bitterly.
The words had scarcely passed my lips, when bang went a pistol from among the horses; and the foremost savage—the one I had singled out, and who was on the point of grasping one of the tether ropes— bounded into the air, with a horrible yell, and fell back a corpse. This was wholly unlooked for by his companions, and checked for an instant those pressing on behind. Remembering Pierre's request, I whispered Teddy to "throw" his man and charge. Both our rifles spoke together, and down tumbled two more. At the same moment Pierre's rifle sent another to his account; and simultaneously springing forward, all three of us made the welkin ring with our shouts of joy and defiance. This was the grand coup de grace of the night. The Indians were alarmed and bewildered. They had counted on certain success in stealing our horses without the loss of a man. Four had fallen in as many seconds; and fancying themselves in an ambuscade, they turned, with wild yells of affright, and disappeared in every direction; so that by the time I had joined Pierre, we were masters of the field, and not an unwounded foe in sight.
"You see hoss safe, Monsieur," said Pierre, hurriedly, as we met; "and I see to tam Injen, eh?" and without waiting a reply, he darted forward, and the next moment was engaged in tearing off the bloody scalps of the slain.
As every mountaineer considers this his prerogative, I did not interfere, but ordering Teddy to assist me, cut the lariats and led our horses back into the darkness, from fear of another attack, in which we might come out second best. In a few minutes Pierre approached me leisurely, and laughingly said:
"Tout va bien: All pe vell, sare;" and he held up to the light four bloody scalps. "Von, two, tree, not pe dead, I kill him. Good for—vot you call him—stealer, eh?— ha, ha, ha!" and taking out his box, he deliberately proceeded to take snuff with his bloody fingers, adding, by way of accompaniment: "Von tam ver moche exsallant joke, him—ha, ha, ha! Sacre! me tink him get von leetle tam—vot you call him—astonishment, eh? By gar! ver moche good."
As we did not consider it prudent to venture again within the fire-light, we decided to remain where we were through the night, and guard against surprise. All was dark around us, except in the direction of the roaring fire, which, flickering to the passing breeze, made the scene of our late encampment look dismal enough. To add to its gloom and cheerlessness, we were presently greeted with the distant howl of a hungry pack of wolves. Every moment these howls grew louder, showing the animals were approaching the spot, while our horses snorted and became so restless we could scarcely hold them. Nearer and nearer came the hungry beasts of prey, till at length we could perceive their fiery eyeballs, and occasionally catch a glimpse of their bodies, as they hovered around the circle of the fire, fearing to approach the carcasses they so much coveted.
For an hour or two they prowled and howled around us, "making night hideous with their orgies," while the fire gradually growing less and less bright, increased their boldness accordingly.
At last one, unable longer to bear the keen pangs of hunger, leaped forward and buried his teeth and claws in the carcass of one of our late foes. The others followed his example, and in less than a minute as many as fifty of these ravenous animals were growling, fighting, gnashing their teeth, and tearing the flesh from the bones of the dead Indians.
Pierre now informed me we were in imminent danger of being attacked ourselves, as, having once tasted blood, and their appetites being rather sharpened than appeased, they would only become more bold in consequence. To my inquiry as to what should be done, he replied that we must continue to kill one of their number as fast as he might be devoured by his companions; and setting the example, he shot one forthwith. Sure enough! no sooner had the beast fallen, than the rest sprang upon and devoured him. By that time my rifle was loaded, and I knocked over another, which met the same fate. In this manner we kept firing alternately for a couple of hours, during which time the old stock was replenished by new comers, until I began to fancy all of the genus would be present before daylight. But at last one after another got satisfied, and slunk away licking his chops. No new ones appeared, and ere the stars grew dim, nothing was visible of the last night's butchery but a collection of clean-licked, shiny bones. While the fire lasted, we could see to take sight; but after that went out, we fired at random; though, knowing the exact location of the beasts, our shots generally proved successful in killing or wounding.
When morning again put a smiling face upon the recent sable earth, we mounted our horses and quitted the loathsome spot, thanking God for our providential deliverance.
ARRIVE AT FORT HALL—FIND BLACK GEORGE— ENLIST HIM WITH THREE OTHERS — SOME NEWS OF PRAIRIE FLOWER—A STORM— UNDER WAY—A TURBULENT STREAM— DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT OF PIERRE—ALL SAFE AT LAST.
It was a warm, pleasant afternoon in June, that we came in sight of Fort Hall, which we hailed with three cheers of delight; and setting spurs to our horses, in less than half an hour we rode gaily within the gates.
As we entered the area, which, though much smaller, was fashioned like Fort Laramie, I perceived a small group of mountaineers or trappers, among whom were two or three Indians, all apparently engaged in some important traffic. The next moment I heard a well known voice exclaim:
"It's done gone then, or I'm no snakes; and heyar's what never backs for nobody and nothin."
The next moment the speaker sauntered toward me, just as I had dismounted from my horse. As he approached, he looked me steadily in the face a moment, and then springing forward with hand extended and flashing eyes, fairly shouted:
"Bosson—for a thousand wild-cats—I'll be dog-gone ef 'tain't;" and ere the sentence was concluded, my hand was suffering under the powerful but welcome pressure of that of Black George. "Well," he added, "I'll be teetolly rumflumuxed, ef I don't think you're a trump, and a ace o' diamonds at that. Whar d'ye come from now, and which way goin? ef it's not tallied on a private stick."
"Direct from Oregon City," I answered, by no means backward in displaying my delight at meeting him again.
"Whar's the gals?"
"Left them all behind me."
"Augh! 'Spect you left your heart thar too, eh?"
"Possibly."
"I'd swear it. Well, hoss, don't blame ye. Them's about as nice human picters as ever this nigger seed. Been thirty year younger, might hev got into deep water thar myself, and lost the whole kit. Howsomever, this coon never tried treein a gal but once't—and Suke Harris soon blowed damp weather on to his powder, and it warn't no shoot no how—augh! Well, well," he added, with something like a sigh, "them's by-gones any how, and 'spect it's all for the best—'case I'm an ole dog, and lead a wanderin life; and when I kind o'git rubbed out—why, ye see, I haint got no pups nor nuthin to be a barkin over my last roost."
Here Black George coughed a little, and turned aside his head, when his eye chanced upon Teddy and Pierre, who, having dismounted at another part of the enclosure, were now approaching to join me.
"Why, hello, hoss! how goes it?" continued the old trapper, addressing the Irishman, and extending his hand. "And here's Pierre too, lookin as nateral 's a young cub; and I'll be dog-gone of that same old smell-box aint jest whar it used to was, a reg'lar fortress, makin his fingers runners 'tween it and his nose. Augh! gin us a chaw, and see the gintcel done."
"Faith! ye're the same ould chap," rejoined Teddy, grasping one hand, while the Frenchman took the other. "Sure, an' it's good for sore eyes to sac the likes o' ye again."
"Ah! Monsieur Blake Shorge," added Pierre, "it give me von ver moche le plus grande delight, for—vot you call him— discoverment you, eh? Ver exceeding tam glad, by gar!"
As soon as the congratulations were over on all sides, Black George turned to me with:
"Well, Bosson, hearn anything o' your pardner?"
"Nothing; and I am now on my way to hunt him out, if among the living."
"A long tramp, and no beaver, or I'm no prophet."
"You think it impossible for me to find him, then?"
"Well, hoss, it's hard sayin what's unpossible; but I'd jest as soon think o' huntin for a singed tail beaver, I would, and odds on my side at that."
Here I entered into an explanation of how he was lost, and wound up by asking;
"And now do you not think it possible he was taken prisoner?"
"Nothin again it, as I knows on."
"And if taken prisoner by the Mexicans, is it not possible—nay, more, is it not probable—he was sold into slavery?"
"Why," replied Black George, who seemed struck with this last suggestion, "I'll gin in it sort o' edges that way, that's a fact--I'll be dog-gone ef it don't! But 'spose it's all so—how's you to diskiver him?—'case it looks a heap mixed to this child, to see it in the cl'arest light."
"That is just what I wish to know my self, and for that purpose have started on the search—being the least to my mind, I could do under the circumstances."
"Then you're bound sothe'ard, 'spose?"
"Exactly; and desire you to join me, with three as good men as you can select."
"Ah, yes; but ye see, it's beaver time now, and—"
"I understand; but I am willing to pay you as much as you could make in your regular vocation."
"You is, hey? Well, come, now, that's a sensible and feelin speech, and you couldn't hev bettered the gist on't, ef you'd a splattered it over with all the big words as is English. I like a straight for'ardtoe-the-mark way o' dealin—I'll be dogged ef I don't!—and bein's I know you're a gentleman—why, I'll jest tell ye I'm in, ef it takes all my hair to put her through. Besides, thar's a chance to raise hair, and that's a sport as this nigger al'ays had a nateral incline for. I've jest got in from the Blues, and made a sale of some hides— so I'm ready to travel and fight jest when you speak it. Got any bacca?"
"Can you raise me three more of the same sort?"
"I reckon."
"Do so; and we will start, if possible, to-morrow mornin."
"Well, that'll jest save me a big spree— augh! I say, boys," he continued, drawing from the pocket of his hunting shirt a small canteen, "got the critter here— and so 'spose we take an inside wet, eh? Spect 'twont hurt your feelings none;" and he set an example which was very accurately followed.
"By-the-by, George," said I, "have you seen or heard anything of Prairie Flower, since that night when she appeared, gave the alarm, and disappeared so mysteriously?"
"Jest what I's a-goin to ax you. No, I haint never sot eyes on her purty face sence; but I hearn a trapper, as come from the sothe, say as he had seed her down to Taos way, and all her Injins was along. She was axin him, now I come to remember, ef he'd heard o' a prisoner bein taken that-a-ways and sold to the mincs."
"Well, well, what did he reply?" exclaimed I, as a sudden thought struck me.
"That he'd hearn o'several—but none in partikelar."
"Heaven bless her! I understand it all!"
"All what?" inquired Black George.
"Why, when I saw Prairie Flower last, I informed her of the fate of Charles Huntly; and ten to one she has set off to search for him!"
"That's it, for my old muley!" cried Black George, not a little excited. "I've said afore she was a angel, and heyar's a a possum what don't speak without knowin. Lord bless her! I could love her like darnation, jest for that. Ef she aint one on'em, why was peraries made, hey?"
A few minutes more were spent in like conversation, when Black George parted from me to engage some companions for our journey. Bidding Teddy look to our horses, I entered the common reception room of the fort, greatly elated at the intelligence just received. Sweet Prairie Flower! She was doubtless at that very moment engaged in an undertaking which should have been performed by me long before; and I could not but condemn myself, for what seemed either a great oversight or gross neglect of duty. And should Heaven favor her, and she discover my friend and set him free—what a debt of gratitude would he owe her for saving him twice! first from death, and secondly from a slavery worse than death. And should this happen, what would be the result to two beings, who, whatever might be outward seemings, loved each other with a passion strong, and, on the part of Prairie Flower at least, imperishable! Sweet, mysterious being! I could hardly realize she was only mortal; for there was something in her every look, thought, and deed, which spoke a divinity—a something ennobled above mere frail humanity.
In the course of an hour, Black George rejoined me, bringing with him three largeboned, robust, good-looking fellows, who, he informed me, were ready to follow me at a fair remuneration. In a few minutes everything was settled, when each departed to make preparations for an early start on the morrow.
A storm, however, set in during the night, which raged with such violence the next morning, that I was feign to defer my departure for twenty-four hours longer. To me the day wore tediously away; for my mind was continually harping on my lost friend and Prairie Flower; and now that I had gained some intelligence of the latter, I could not avoid connecting the two, in a way to raise my hopes in a great degree; and consequently I was doubly anxious to be on the way.
But if the delay proved tedious to me, not so was it with my companions, who had a jolly time of it over their cups and cards; and drank and played, till it became a serious matter for them to distinguish an ace of trumps from a gill of whisky.
However, the day went at last, as all days will, and I was gratified the second morning with a peep at old Sol, as he rose bright and glorious in the east. I hastened to rouse my companions—who were rather the worse for the previous day's indulgence, but who turned out as well as could be expected, all things considered— and in a short time we were all mounted and in motion, a goodly company of seven.
Shaping our course southward, a couple of hours brought us to Port Neuf river, which we found very turbulent from the late storm, and in consequence very difficult to cross. After examining the banks for some distance, and finding no good ford we determined on swimming it. This was no easy undertaking; for the current ran very swift, and loudly roared, as its flashing but muddy waters dashed furiously against the rocks, which here and there reared their ugly heads, as if with a halfformed intention of damning and forcing it to another channel.
"Monsieur," said Pierre to me as we stood hesitating what to do; "you see tother bank, eh?"
I nodded assent.
"Sacre! by tam! now I tell you me like him. I sall 'ave von grande satisfaction of put my foot dere—or I sall be von—by gar! vot you call him—dead, wet homme, eh?"
As he spoke, he spurred his horse forward, and the next moment the fiery animal was nobly contending with an element, which, in spite of his struggles, rapidly bore him down on its bosom, while his rider, as if to show his utter contempt for danger, sat erect on his back, coolly engaged in taking snuff.
"H—!" exclaimed Black George, with a grin. "ef thar aint that old smell-box agin! Ef ever he goes under, he'll do it with a sneeze. Augh!"
"Sure, and its throublesome he finds the wather now, I'm thinking," observed Teddy.
"Good heavens! he is indeed in difficulty!" I exclaimed. "Quick! let us ride down the bank and be prepared to give him aid."
And in fact our aid came none too soon; for the stream had borne both rider and horse down to a narrow channel, where the water rushed furiously over the rocks, and being partially obstructed below, formed an eddy or whirlpool of a very dangerous character, in which the beast was floundering and vainly striving to reach either bank. By this time Pierre had become aware of his danger, and was exerting his utmost skill to keep his seat, and guide his animal safely out of the fearful vortex. Just below him was a narrow canon, of considerable depth, and at its farther termination a slight fall, where the water seethed and foamed with great violence, after which it became comparatively tranquil, as it spread out on a broad level, to again concentrate its greatest force at a point still below. As we reached the bank along side of the guide, we all dismounted, when Black George, leaping upon a steep rock overhanging the stream, instantly threw him a rope which he had selected for the purpose. Pierre caught one end of it eagerly, and fearing to remain longer where he was, instantly abandoned his horse and plunged into the water. The next minute we had drawn him ashore, though not entirely scatheless, as the whirling current had several times thumped him against the rocks, and bruised his limbs and body in several places.
Pierre, however, seemed to care more for his horse than himself; and no sooner had he found a safe footing on terra firma, than giving himself a shake, he cried, "Mine hoss, by gar!" and darted away to the rescue of the unfortunate brute, which was now being hurried against his will through the canon. We all followed Pierre down the stream, but ere we gained the tranquil part of the river before spoken of. the animal had passed safely over the falls, and, with a joyful whicker, was now fast swimming to the shore, where he was soon caught by his owner, who expressed his joy in sundry shouts and singular antics.
"Ah! sacre!" cried the Frenchman, as he remounted his gallant pony, shaking his hand with an air of defiance at the heedless river: "I sall 'ave von le plus satisfactione again try you tam drowning;" and no sooner said, than he spurred into the liquid element, and succeeded, after some difficulty, in gaining the opposite shore, an example we all safely imitated.
We now struck one of the most northern points of the Bear River Mountains; and for the rest of the day pursued our course without accident, over steep ridges, through dangerous defiles, dense thickets, deep gorges and ravines, passed yawning chasms, and all the concomitants of wild, mountain scenery. Sometimes we stood on a point which commanded an extensive view of a country of great beauty and grandeur—where the soul could expand and revel amid the unchanged fastnesses of a thousand years—and anon we were completely hidden from the sight of anything but the interwoven shrubbery, through which we diligently labored our way. At last we came to a fine spring, around which grew a limited circle of excellent grass, presenting the appearance of a spot, which, at some remote period, had been cultivated. Here we encamped, built a fire, ate our suppers, and slept to the music of howling wolves.
BEAR RIVER MOUNTAINS — BEAR RIVER — TRAPPING — REMARKS ON THE TRAPPERS— A STAMPEDE—ALARM—FLIGHT—MORE SCARED THAN HURT — THE JOKE ON ME — STAND TREAT.
It is unnecessary to weary the reader with farther detail of mountain life. Unless in cases of extreme peril, from savages or wild beasts, the seenes are monotonous; and enough I think has already been recorded to give a correct idea of life as it is, with all its dangers and hardships, beyond the boundaries of civilization. I may therefore be permitted to press forward— annihilate time and space—only pausing occasionally to give something new, or out of the regular routine of every day adventure.
It was my intention on leaving Fort Hall, to make the best of my way toward Taos — a small Mexican village, much frequented by mountaineers, situated in the country of Texas, on the western side of an arm of the Green Mountains, some fifty or sixty miles north of Santa Fé, and on a small tributary of the Rio Grande. This was to be my first destination, and where I was in hopes to gain some intelligence of my friend, from the many adventurers there collected — the traveling representatives of all the territories as well as Mexico. It was possible, too, I might fall in with Leni Leoti (which the reader will bear in mind is the Indian name of Prairie Flower), and her tribe, from whom I had sanguine expectations of gaining some information, either good or bad. If Prairie Flower had, as I inferred from what Black George imparted, actually been in search of Charles Huntly, I could at once gain the result and extent of her operations, and shape my own accordingly. With this view of the matter, as may readily be supposed, I felt no little anxiety to see her, and on no route, to my thinking, would I be more likely to find her, than on the one I had chosen and was now pursuing.
Making the best of our way over the hills, we struck the Bear river on the third day from leaving Fort Hall. This river, which takes its rise in the very heart of the mountain range to which it gives name, presents the curious phenomenon of a stream running adverse ways, and nearly parallel to itself, for a distance of from one to two hundred miles. Beginning, as just stated, in the very center of the Bear River Mountains, it dashes away northward on its devious course, for a hundred and fifty or two hundred miles, and then, encircling a high ridge with the bend of an ox how, runs southward nearly the same distance, enlarging with numerous tributaries, and empties at last into the Great Salt Lake, within fifty or seventy-five miles of its own head waters. Formerly this stream was much resorted to by trappers, who here found beaver very numerous, and mountain game in abundance. Beaver dams, in process of decay, may here and there be seen at the present day, and, at rare intervals, a thriving settlement of the little fellows themselves; but, as Black George remarked with a sigh of regret:
"It aint what it used to was, no how."
Soon after we had camped, Black George, who ever had an eye to business, started out in search of game, and soon returned with the intelligence that "beaver sign was about," and forthwith proceeded to get his traps, which he had brought along in his possibles.
"What are you going to do?" 1 inquired.
"Make 'em come, hoss—nothin short."
As I had never witnessed the modus operandi of catching beaver, I expressed a desire to do so, which was responded to with:
"Come on, Bosson, and I'll put ye through."
Taking our way to the river, which was here rather shallow, Black George led me down some two hundred yards, and then directed my attention to some small tracks made in the muddy bottom of the stream, along the margin of the water.
"Them's the sign, d'ye see! and thar's fur about, sartin, or this nigger don't know beaver."
Saying this, the old mountaineer proceeded to set his traps, of which he had some five or six. Moistening a small stick in his "medicine," as he termed it—an oily substance obtained from a gland of the beaver—he fastened it to the trap, and then placed the latter in the "run" of the animal, just under the edge of the water, securing it to a sapling on the bank by a small cord. Another cord led off from the trap several feet, and was attached to a "floating stick"—so called from its floating on the water—by which appendage the trapper, in case the beaver caught makes off with his property, is enabled to recover it.
"And now," said I, when he had done, "what inducement has the animal to become your victim?"
"Why he gits to be my meat you mean?"
"Exactly."
"Well, I'll jest explanify—though maybe I'll not git it out as scientiferic nor some folks—for's I said sometime ago, edication never come in this child's line. Ye see, it's jest this: beaver's like I've hearn say women-folks was. He's got an orful cur'osity, and it gits him into bad snaps without his intendin it. Ye see, he'll come along here arter a while, and he'll smell that thar "medicine," and think maybe thar's another beaver about— leastwise he'll want to know purty bad— and so he'll come smellin round, and afore he knows it, 'he's put his foot in't,' and is a gone beaver. Augh!"
Having delivered himself of this, Black George coolly continued his operations, till all his traps were set, and then together we returned to our camp. On arriving, I found that the beaver mania had taken possession of Black George's companions, who were in consequence absent with like sinister designs against the harmless little fellows.
On returning with the old mountaineer in the morning, I soon discovered he had "made a raise," as he expressed it, "of three old 'uns and a kitten." The other trappers were somewhat successful also; so that on that fatal night, no less than a dozen beaver lost their "run" forever.
Before raising camp, my mountain friends proceeded to skin the animals, scrape the inside of the pelts of fat and all superfluous matter, and then stretch them on hoops for drying—after which they were ready for packing. This latter is done by turning the fur inside, putting several together and fastening them with cords, when they are tightly pressed into the possibles of the trapper, and thus conveyed on mules to the rendezvous-market, sometimes one place and sometimes another.
The labor of the trapper is very severe, and his perils without number. Some times he traps on his own account—alone, or with two or three associates—and sometimes for a company. In the first instance, his cognomen is the "free trapper;" in the last, the "hired hand." In either case, however, his hardships are the same, He sets off to the mountains, as soon as the spring rains are over, and there generally remains till the approaching storms of autumn drive him to winter quarters, where his time is spent in all kinds of dissipation to which he is accessible. If he makes a fortune in the summer, he spends it in the winter, and returns to his vocation in the spring as poor as when he started the year previous; and not unfrequently worse off; for if a "free trapper," ten to one but he sacrifices his animals in some drunken, gambling spree, and is forced to go out on credit, or as a "hired hand." He braves all kind of weather in his business, and all kinds of danger, from the common accidents of the mountains, to his conflicts with wild beasts, and wilder and more ferocious savages. But he is a philosopher, and does not mind trifles. So he escapes with a whole skin, or even with life, he looks upon his hardships, encounters and mishaps, only as so much literary stock, to be retailed out to his companions over a warm fire, a euchre deck, and a can of whisky.
Seeking the best beaver regions, he scans carefully all the rivers, creeks, and rivulets in the vicinity for "beaver sign," regardless of danger. If he finds a tree across a stream, he gives it close attention, to ascertain whether it is there by accident, by human design, or whether it is "thrown" by the animal of his search for the purpose of damming the water. If the first or second, he passes on; if the last, he begins his search for the "run of the critter." He carefully scrutinizes all the banks, and peers under them for "beaver tracks." If he finds any, his next examination is to ascertain whether they are "old" or "fresh." If the latter, then his traps are set forthwith, in the manner already shown.
In his daily routine of business, he not unfrequently encounters terrible storms of rain or snow — the former suflicient to deluge him and raise rivulets to rivers— and the latter to bury him, without almost superhuman exertions, far from mortal eye, and there hold him to perish,
"Unwept, unhonored, and unsung."
These are the least of his dangers. He is often attacked by wild beasts, when nothing but his presence of mind, his coolness and good marksmanship, can extricate him from his difficulty; and yet he rarely fails to come off conqueror. Escaping these, he must be continually on his guard against his worst foe, the wily Indian; so that he can never approach a bush with the surety that a treacherous ball may not put a close to his mortal career, and all his hard earnings pass into the hands of an enemy he ever hates with the bitterness of concentrated passion. With all these dangers, and hardships, and vicissitudes, your bona fide trapper loves his calling, would not be content to follow any other and is in general a rough, jolly, dare-devil sort of fellow, who not unfrequently attains to the appointed age of man, and at last "goes under" with all the stoicism of a martyr, "With not a stone, and not a line, To tell he e'er had been."
Continuing our course, but in a more easterly direction, we at length quitted the mountains and descended to a large, beautiful, rolling prairie, with little or no vegetation but short buffalo grass. Taking our way over this, we had been about half a day out, and were beginning to lose sight of the lower ranges of hills, when we heard a deep rumbling, like heavy thunder or a distant earthquake, and our guide came to a sudden halt, exclaiming:
"Le Diable!"
"Howly jabers! what is it, now?" cried Teddy.
"Hist!" exclaimed Black George. "I'll be dog-gone ef I don't think we're chawed up this time, sure as sin!"
"What is it?" I echoed.
"Von grande stampede, by gar!" answered Pierre.
"Stampede of what, I pray?"
"Buffler," replied Black George, sententiously.
"Where are they?"
"Yonder they is now—here a-ways they soon will be;" and as he spoke, he pointed over the plain with his finger.
Following the direction with my eyes, I beheld in the distance a cloud of dust, which rolled upward like a morning fog, through which, and in which, I could occasionally catch a glimpse of the huge animals, as they bounded forward with railroad velocity.
"What is to be done?" I cried.
"Grin and bear it," responded the old trapper.
"But we shall be trodden to death See! they are coming this way!"
"Can't die younger," was the cool rejoinder.
"But can we not fly?"
"Howly mother of Mary!" shouted Teddy, worked up to a keen pitch of excitement; "it's fly we must, sure, as if the divil was afther us, barring that our flying must be did on baasts, as have no wings, now, but long legs, jist"
"What for you run, eh?" grinned the Frenchman. "Him catche you, by gar! just so easy as you catche him, von leetle, tam—vot you call him—musquito, eh!"
"It's no use o' showing them critters our backs," rejoined Black George. "Heyar's what don't turn back on nothin that's got hair."
"Well," continued I, "you may do as you please; but as for myself, I have no desire to stand in my tracks and die without an effort."
Saying this I wheeled my horse and, was just in the act of putting spurs to him, when Black George suddenly dashed up along side and caught my bridle.
"See heyar, boy—don't go to runnin— or you'll discomflumicate yourself oudaciously— you will, by —! Eh, Pierre?"
"Certainment, by gar!" answered the guide; and then both burst into a hearty laugh.
"What do you mean?" cried I, in astonishment, unable to comprehend their singular actions; and I turned to the other mountaineers, who were sitting quietly on their horses, and inquired if they did not think there was danger.
"Thar's al'ays danger," replied one, "in times like this; but thar's no safety in runnin."
"For Heaven's sake, what are we to do, then? Stay here quietly and get run over?"
Black George gave a quiet laugh, and the Frenchman proceeded to take snuff. This was too much for my patience. I felt myself insulted, and jerking away my rein from the hand of the trapper, I exclaimed indignantly:
"I do not stay here to be the butt of any party. Teddy, follow me!"
The next moment I was dashing over the prairie at the full speed of my horse, and the Irishman, to use a nautical phrase, close in my wake, whooping and shouting with delight at what he considered a narrow escape. The direction we had taken was the same as that pursued by the running buffalo; and we could only hope for ultimate safety, by reaching some huge tree, rock, or other obstacle to their progress, in advance of them. How far we would have to run to accomplish this, there was no telling; for as far as the eye could reach ahead of us, we saw nothing but the same monotonous rolling plain. The herd, thundering on in our rear, was so numerous and broad, that an attempt to ride out of its way, by turning to the right or left, could not be thought of — as the velocity of the animals would be certain to bring a wing upon us, ere we could clear their lines. There was nothing for it, then, but a dead race; and I will be free to own, the thought of this fairly chilled my blood. Exposed as I had been to all kinds of danger, I had never felt more alarmed and, depressed in spirits than now. What could my companions mean by their indifference and levity? Was it possible that, having given themselves up for lost, the excitement had stupified some, and turned the brains of others? Horrible thought! I shuddered, and turned on my horse to look back. There they stood dismounted, rifles in hand, and, just beyond them, the mighty host still booming forward. Poor fellows! all hope with them is over, I thought; and with a sigh at their fate, I withdrew my gaze and urged on my steed.
On, on we sped, for a mile or more, when I ventured another look behind me. Judge of my surprise, on beholding a long line of buffalo to the right and left, rushing away in different directions, while directly before me, nothing was visible but my friends, who, on perceiving me look back, made signs for me to halt and await them. I did so, and in a few minutes they came up laughing.
"Why, Bosson," said Black George, waggishly, "I hope as how you've run the skeer out o' ye by this time; for I'll be dog-gone ef you can't travel a few, on pertikelar occasions!"
"Oui, Monsieur," added Pierre, "vous 'ave von le plus grande—vot you call him— locomotion, eh?"
"But how, in the name of all that is wonderful, did you escape," rejoined I.
"Just as nateral as barkin to a pup." answered Black George. "We didn't none on us hev no fear no time; and was only jest playin possum, to see ef we could make your hair stand; never 'spectin, though, you was a-goin to put out and leave us."
"But pray tell me how you extricated yourselves?" said I, feeling rather crestfallen at my recent unheroic display.
"Why, jest as easy as shootin—and jest that, hoss, and nothin else."
"Explain yourself."
"Well then, we kind o' waited till them critters got up, so as we could see thar peepers shine, and then we all burnt powder and tumbled over two or three leaders. This skeered them as was behind, and they jest sniffed, and snorted, and sot off ayther ways like darnation. It warnt anything wonderful—that warnt—and it 'ud been onnateral for 'em to done anything else."
"I say, your honor," rejoined Teddy, with a significant wink, "it's like, now, we've made jackasses o' ourselves, barring your honor."
"Very like," returned I biting my lips with vexation, "all but the barring."
The truth is, I felt much as one caught in a mean act, and I would have given no small sum to have had the joke on some one else. I detected many a quiet smile curling the lips of my companions, when they thought I did not notice them, and I knew by this they were laughing in their sleeves, as the saying is; but, being in my service, did not care to irritate my feelings by a more open display. It was very galling to a sensitive person to know he has made himself ridiculous, and is a private subject of jest with his inferiors. It is no use for one under such circumstances to fret, and foam, and show temper. No! such things only make the matter worse. The best way is to come out boldly, own to the joke, and join in the laugh. Acting upon this, I said:
"Friends, I have made a fool of myself— I am aware of it—and you are at liberty to enjoy the joke to its full extent. But remember, you must not spread it! and when we reach a station, consider me your debtor for a 'heavy wet,' all round."
This proved a decided hit. All laughed freely at the time, and that was the last I heard of it, till I fulfilled my liquor pledge at Uintah Fort, when Black George ventured the toast, "Buffler and a run," which was followed with roars of mirth at my expense, and there the matter ended.
A BEAUTIFUL VALLEY—A LEGEND—THE OLD TRAPPER'S STORY — FATE OF BEN BOSE — REFLECTIONS—TEDDY'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF— DEATH OF HIS PARENTS — THE "OULD PRAAST"—HIS FIRST LOVE—THE WAY HE CAME TO LEAVE IRELAND — ALARMING ONSET OF INDIANS.
Passing Uintah Fort, which awakened many painful recollections of what had occurred since my former visit here in company with my lost friend, we took a southerly course, and crossing Green river, continued over an undulating, mountainous country to Grand river, and thence to the most northern range of the Green Mountains, where gush forth the head waters of the Arkansas and Rio Grande. Here we came to a beautiful valley, shut in by high hills, through which flowed a limpid stream, whose banks wore a velvet covering of rich green grass and innumerable wild flowers. A little back from the stream, on either side, was a delightful grove, stretching away in rows of artificial regularity. In fact, from what I saw, and the information I gathered from my compagnons d'voyage, I have every reason to believe this valley was at one time a nobleman's park. I said it was shut in by hills; but there was one outlet toward the west, where the streamlet flowed gently away between two ridges. Entering through this pass, you are struck with the singular beauty of the spot; and not more so than by a huge pile of ruins on a gentle eminence away to the right. Here, as tradition goes, once stood a famous castle, belonging to a Spanish nobleman, who, for some state intrigue, was exiled his country, but who subsequently flourished here in great power. He had a beautiful daughter, to whom a descendent of the Aztecs paid court; but neither the father nor the daughter fancied him, and his suit was rejected. Enraged at this, he swore revenge; and possessing power and influence over a barbarous race, he succeeded by bribes and treachery in accomplishing his fell design. The lord of the castle, his daughter and attendants, all fell victims; and the mighty structure, touched by the devastating fingers of Time, at last became a heap of ruins. Such is a brief outline of the tradition, which I give for