The Lost Hunter

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  THE LOST HUNTER.

  A Tale of Early Times.

  "And still her grey rocks tower above the sea That murmurs at their feet, a conquered wave; 'Tis a rough land of earth, and stone, and tree, Where breathes no castled lord or cabined slave; Where thoughts, and tongues, and hands, are bold and free, And friends will find a welcome, foes a grave; And where none kneel, save when to heaven they pray, Nor even then, unless in their own way." HALLECK

  NEW YORK:

  DERBY & JACKSON, 119 NASSAU STREET. CINCINNATI:--H.W. DERBY.

  1856.

  ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by

  J.C. DERBY,

  in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, forthe Southern District of New York.

  W.H. TINSON, Stereotyper.

  PUDNEY & RUSSELL Printers.

  APOLOGY

  As one might justly be considered a clown, or, at least, not wellbred, who, without tapping at the door, or making a bow, or saying "Byyour leave," or some other token of respect, should burst in upona company of persons unknown to him, and instead of a welcome woulddeserve an unceremonious invitation to betake himself elsewhereforthwith; so, I suppose, in presenting myself before you, myhonored Public, it is no more than civil to say something by way ofintroduction. At least, I have observed from my obscure retreat in thequiet village of Addlebrains, that the fashion in this respect, whichhas prevailed, certainly, since the time of St. Luke, who commenceshis Gospel with a preface to Theophilus, has come down to the presentday, differing therein from other fashions, which, for the most part,are as transitory as the flowers of the field, and commending itselfthereby to the thoughtful consideration of the judicious; for itcannot be deemed there is no value in that which has received thesanction of centuries. Influenced by reflections of this descriptionand the like, I sat down one day in the little retreat, which theindulgent partiality of my friends is accustomed to dignify with thetitle of my "study," to endeavor to write a preface, and introducemyself in a becoming manner to my readers. I was the more anxiousto do this properly, because, although a mere countryman, a sort ofcowhide shoe, as I may say, and therefore lacking that gloss, which,like the polish on a well-brushed boot, distinguishes and illustratesthe denizens of our metropolis in an eminent degree, as I know frompersonal experience, having been twice in New York, and, as I am told,also, the citizens of Boston and Philadelphia, and other provincialtowns, with a milder lustre, I would not like to be supposed entirelydestitute of refinement. It would be strange if I were, inasmuch as Ienjoyed in my youth, the privilege of two terms and a half instructionin the dancing school of that incomparable professor of theTerpsichorean science, the accomplished Monsieur St. Leger Pied. Itis in consequence of this early training, perhaps, that I am alwayspained when there is any deflection or turning aside from, or neglectof, the graceful, the becoming, and the proper.

  It will be observed that my last quarter was cut short in the middle;which untoward event arose from no arrogance or supercilious conceiton my part, as though I had perfected myself in the mysteries ofpigeon-wing and balancez, but from the abrupt departure ofthe professor himself, who, true to the name indicative of hisconstitutional levity, found it convenient to disappear betwixt twodays, with the advance pay of my whole term in his pocket, andwithout stopping to make even one of his uncommonly genteel bows. Thecircumstance was peculiarly disagreeable to me, in consequence of theschool being assembled when our loss was discovered, and of my havingsucceeded in engaging, for the greater part of the evening, the handof a young lady, whose charms had made a deep (though, as subsequentevents proved, not a durable) impression on my susceptible heart.Monsieur was our only musician, and, of course, with his violinwent the dancing. The cause of his evasion or flight was variouslyaccounted for, some ascribing it to a debt he had contracted forkid gloves and pumps, and others to dread of the wrath of a younggentleman, whose sister he had been so imprudent as to kiss in thepresence of another girl, not remarkable for personal attractions, towhom he had never paid the same compliment. As was to be expected, shewas scandalized at the impropriety and want of taste, and immediatelymade it known, in spite of the entreaties of the blushing beauty andthe "pardons" of Monsieur. As Virgilius has it,

  "Manet alta mente i epostum, Judicium Paridis spretaeque injuria formae."

  In my opinion, it was the kiss that cost poor Monsieur Pied hisschool, and me a dollar and a half, three dollars being the pricefor a term's instruction. Not, I beg to be understood, that I careanything about the money, but in relating an event I like to becircumstantial and strictly accurate. But I find that, wiled away bythe painfully pleasing reminiscences of my youth, I am wanderingfrom my undertaking, which is, not to narrate the misadventures of adancing-master, but to compose a preface.

  I had seated myself, as I was saying, in my little den or confugium,where, as in a haven of rest, I love to hide myself from thedistractions of the world, and concentrate my thoughts, and which hasbeen to me the scene of many sad as well as pleasant hours, and dippedmy goose quill (anathema maranatha on steel pens, which I cannot helpfancying, impart a portion of their own rigidity to style, for if thestylus be made of steel is it not natural that the style by derivationand propinquity should be hard?) into the ink-stand, after firstcasting my eyes on the busts of Shakespeare and Milton, which, castin plaster, adorn my retirement, half imploring them to assist in soimportant an enterprise, when the door opened, and who should enterbut my dear friend, the Rev. Increase Grace? But here let me remarkparenthetically, the habit of dealing in parentheses being one Iespecially dislike, only necessity compelling me thereto, and before Iproceed further, that the word "confugium," which, both on account ofits terse expressiveness, as well as its _curiosa felicitas_ in thepresent application, I have chosen in order to define my den, has not,I hope, escaped the notice of the discriminating scholar. Moreover,I trust that I shall not incur the imputation of vanity if I take tomyself some little credit for the selection. It will be observed thatit is a compound term, the latter part, "fugium" (from fuga, flight),characterizing the purpose to which my secluded nook is applied asa refuge, whither I fly from the unmeaning noise and vanity of theworld; and the prefix, "con" (equivalent to cum, with), conveyingthe idea of its social designation. For I should be loth to have itthought that, like Charles Lamb's rat, who, by good luck, happening tofind a Cheshire cheese, kept the discovery a profound secret fromthe rest of the rats, in order to monopolize the delicious dainty,pretending all the while that his long and frequent absences at acertain hole were purely for purposes of heavenly contemplation, hismind having of late become seriously impressed, and, therefore, hecould not bear interruption, I am in the habit of ensconcing myselfwith a selfish exclusion therein. Far from it: the door is neverbarred against admission, and my confugium rather means (though thedictionaries with their usual vagueness so much to be lamented, havenot succeeded in eviscerating its full signification) a common placeof retirement for myself and intimate friends. Hence it was not as anintrusion, but, on the contrary, as an acceptable call, that I greetedthe arrival of Increase. There must have been an unusual degree ofgravity in my countenance corresponding with the importance of thework I was about to undertake, for the reverend gentleman had hardlytaken a seat before he observed it, and inquired into its cause. Weare upon that footing of intimacy, that there was no impropriety inthe question, and I unhesitatingly acquainted him with my purpose.

  "I should as soon think," said the Rev. Increase, "of building averandah before a wood-house, or putting mah
ogany doors into my oldtoppling down church."

  The remark was not very complimentary, but great freedom of speechprevails between us, and I took no offence; especially as I knew thatthe Rev. gentleman was smarting under a disappointment in the saleof a volume of sermons, whence he had expected great things, fromthe publication of which I had vainly endeavored to dissuade him, andwhose meagre proceeds fully justified my forebodings. The mention ofmy work naturally recalled this afflictive dispensation, and _hincillae lacrimae_. Reading his mind, I answered, therefore, as gently asa slight tremor in my voice would allow, that there was no accountingfor tastes, and that as trifling a thing as a song had been known tooutlive a sermon.

  I declare I meant no harm, but his reverence (one of the best men inthe world, but who, in every sense of the word, belongs to the "churchmilitant,") instantly blazed up--

  "I dare say," he said, bitterly, "that you understand the fripperytaste of this trivial age better than I. A capability to appreciatesolid reading, reading that cultivates the understanding while itamends the heart, seems to be with the forgotten learning before theflood. They who pander to this diseased appetite have much to answerfor; not," he was pleased to add--his indignation cooling off like asteam-boiler which has found vent, "that the trifle on which for thelast few months you have been wasting your time has not a certain kindof merit, but it seems a pity, that one, capable of better things,should so miserably misapply his powers."

  These sentiments were not entirely new to me, else I might have becomea little excited; for, during the whole time while I was engaged inthe composition of the work, my friend, who is, also, in the habitof communicating his literary enterprises to me, would insist upon myreading him the chapters, as fast as they came along, manifesting nolittle curiosity in the manner in which I should disengage myself fromdifficulties in which he supposed me from time to time involved,and exuberant delight at the ingenious contrivances, as, in acomplimentary mood, he once said, by which I eluded them. It is true,all this betrayal of interest was accompanied by various pishes andpshaws, and lamentations over the trifling character of my pursuits;but, like too many others, both in his cloth and out of it, hisconduct contradicted his language, and I was encouraged by the former,while I only smiled at the latter.

  "If such be your opinion," said I, suddenly seizing the manuscript,which lay before me, and making a motion to throw it into the fire;"if such be your candid opinion, I had better destroy the nonsense atonce."

  "Hold!" cried the Rev. Increase, arresting my hand, "you areshockingly touchy and precipitate; how often have I cautioned youagainst this trait of your character. Because your workling does notdeserve to be mentioned in the same category with works of solid andacknowledged merit, like, for instance, Rollin's Ancient Historyor Prideaux' Connexion, and can, at best, enjoy but an ephemeralexistence, does it deserve to have no existence at all? On yourprinciple, we should have no butterflies, because their careless liveslast but a day."

  "Well, Increase," said I, "if, like the butterfly, whose short anderratic presence imparts another beauty to green fields and blueskies, and blossoms, and songs of birds, my little book shall be ableto seduce a smile to the lips, or cheat away a pain from the bosomof one of those whom you are so fond of calling 'pilgrims through adreary wilderness,' I shall feel amply compensated for the waste of mytime."

  "If your expectations are so moderate, I see no harm in your indulgingthem," said my friend; "but I cannot help wishing you had oftenertaken my advice in its composition."

  "I have great respect for your opinion," I answered, "but I find itimpossible to pass the ideas of another through the crucible of mymind and do them justice. Somehow or other, when I am expecting astream of gold, it turns out a _caput mortuum_ of lead. No, my bettercourse is to coin my copper in my own way. But, tell me frankly, whatoffends you."

  My Rev. friend had, by this time, forgotten his unfortunate volume ofsermons, and resumed his good nature.

  "Offends me? my dear friend, and half-parishoner (for I notice a badhabit you have got into, of late, of attending church only in themorning--pray reform it), you use a very harsh term. There is nothingin the book that offends me; although," he added, cautiously, "Ido not mean to say that I sanction entirely either your religious,philosophical, or political speculations. I am no flatterer, and claimthe privilege of a friend to speak my mind."

  "My dear Increase," said I, pressing his hand, "I love you all themore for your sincerity; but why do you call them my speculations? Ihave expressed no opinions. They are the opinions of the characters,and not mine. I wish you and all the world distinctly to understandthat."

  "And yet the world will hold you to account for them. If a man firesa gun into a crowd, is he not responsible for any mischief that may bethe consequence?"

  "I do not expect to make so loud a report," said I, smiling; "but Iprotest against your doctrine. Why, according to that, an author isaccountable for all the opinions of his dramatis personae, howeverabsurd and contradictory they may be."

  "I do not go so far as that. I hold that the author is onlyresponsible for the effect produced: if that effect be favorable tovirtue, he deserves praise; if the contrary, censure."

  "I admit the justice of the view you take, with that limitation; and Itrust it is with a sense of such accountability I have written," saidI. "May I, then, flatter myself with the hope that you will grant meyour imprimatur?"

  "You have it," said he; "and may no critic regard your book with lessindulgent eyes than mine. But what name do you give the bantling?"

  "Oh," said I, "I have not concluded, I fancy that one name is nearlyas good as another."

  "I don't know about that," said the Rev. Increase. "A couple whobrought their child lately to me to be baptized did not think so,at any rate. I inquired what was the name chosen, when, to myastonishment, I heard sounds which resembled very much one of thetitles bestowed upon the arch enemy of mankind. Supposing that my earsdeceived me, I inquired again, when the same word, to my horror, wasmore distinctly repeated. 'Lucifer!' said I, to myself, 'impossible!I cannot baptize a child by such a name.' I bent over once more, anda third time asked the question. The answer was the same, and repeatedlouder and with an emphasis, as if the parents were determined to havethat name or none. By this time my situation had become embarrassing,for there was I, in the presence of the whole waiting congregation,standing up with the baby in my arms, which, to add to myconsternation, set up a squall as if to convince me that he wasentitled to the name. My bachelor modesty could stand the scene nolonger; so, hastily dipping my fingers in the font, and resolving heshould have a good name, as opposite as possible to the diabolicalone so strangely selected, I baptized the infant George Washington.I thought the parents looked queerly at the time, but the rite wasperformed, the baby had got an excellent name, and I was relieved. Butconceive, if you can, my confusion, when, after service, the fatherand mother came into the vestry, and the latter bursting into tears,exclaimed: 'Oh, thir, what have you done? Ith a girl, ith a girl! andyou've called her George Wathington! My poor little Luthy, my dearlittle Luthy!' Alas! the mother lisped, and when I asked for thename, meaning to be very polite, and to say, Lucy, sir, in reply tomy question, she had said, 'Luthy, thir,' which I mistook for Lucifer.What was to be done? I consoled the afflicted parents as well as I wasable, and promised to enter the name in the parish registry and townrecords as Lucy, which I did; but for all that, the girl's genuine,orthodox name is George Washington!"

  "I see," said I, paying him for his joke with the expected laugh,"there is something in a name, and we must be cautious in its choice."The result was, that I followed my friend's advice in adopting the onewhich was finally selected. Soon after the Rev. gentleman took his hatand left me to my meditations. Thereupon I resumed my pen, and vainlyendeavored to write a preface. At last, in despair, I could hitupon no better expedient than to explain to you, my dear Public, thecircumstances which prevent my doing it now. You will sympathize withmy mortification, and forgive my
failure for the sake of the honesteffort, and no more think of condemning me, than you would theaforesaid rustic, alluded to in the beginning of this my apology,should he, instead of boisterously rushing in upon the company,endeavor (his sense of the becoming overcoming his bashfulness) totwist his body into the likeness of a bow, thereby only illustratingand confirming the profound wisdom of the maxim, _non omnia possumusomnes_. Should our awkward attempts be classed together, I shallnevertheless indulge the hope, that better acquaintance with you willincrease my facility of saying nothing with grace, and improve mymanners, even as I doubt not that under the tuition of Monsieur Pied,the aforesaid countryman might, in time, be taught to make a passablebow.

  For ever, _vive_, my dear Public, and, until we meet again (which,whether we ever do, will depend upon how we are pleased with eachother), _vale_.

  THE AUTHOR.