The Young Emigrants; Madelaine Tube; The Boy and the Book; and by Susan Anne Livingston Ridley Sedgwick

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"Indeed, sister," said Uncle John, "Mr. Jones is right when he tells you
you need not be afraid of them--they are more afraid of us, and besides
are wonderfully easy to kill; a blow with a stick, in the hand of a
child, on or about the head, will render them powerless to do hurt."

"And if you should get a bite, Marm," added Mr. Jones, "the very best
thing you can do is to take a live chicken, split it in two, and lay it
on to the wound: it's a sartain sure cure."

"Why, Annie, if there are many rattlesnakes," cried Tom, laughing, "it
will be worse for your chickens than the hawks!"

"Annie will dream to-night of you, and snakes, and chickens, all in a
jumble, Mr. Jones; but don't you think it is time to prepare our
sleeping-place? It is past eight o'clock, and we must be stirring
early."

After packing up the remains of the supper, Mrs. Lee and the children
retired to their mattresses in the wagon, and the men having put
together a kind of wigwam of branches for themselves, and piled up the
fire, were soon resting from the labors of the day.

The sun had scarcely risen the next morning when our travellers were
prepared for their last day's journey. All was bustle and excitement
with Uncle John and Tom; and Mr. and Mrs. Lee, though quiet, felt an
eager impatience for a sight of their future dwelling-place. And fast
and hard was the beating of their hearts, when after a few hours they
beheld before them their own little possession! Some thirty acres of
rich pasture-land, sloped gently to the margin of a broad stream, which
flowed with a smooth and rapid current, and whose opposite shore gave a
view of a lovely undulating country, bounded by distant mountains, robed
in misty blue. The grand primeval forest nearly enclosed the other three
sides of this vast meadow. It was a beautiful scene, and to Mr. Lee it
almost seemed that he must be dreaming, to look upon it as his own. Deep
and heartfelt was the thanksgiving he silently breathed to the Giver of
all good, that He had brought him to this land of plenty, and given him
such a heritage in the wilderness.

But more than gazing and admiring had to be done that day, so after a
hasty dinner, a sheltered spot was sought for the erection of the
shanties, which were to serve them as sleeping-rooms until the house
should be built. This was soon found, and in a couple of hours two
good-sized ones were made; the walls were formed of interwoven branches,
and the roofs of bark; the fourth side of the men's was to be left open,
as a fire was kept up every night in front of it, to scare away the
wolves, and other wild beasts, should there be any in the neighborhood.

The next morning a council was held as to their future proceedings; to
prepare a house was, of course, a work to be commenced immediately, but
it required some deliberation as to how they should set about it. Mr.
Jones had taken a great liking to the family, and he now proved his
goodwill by declaring that he would "stay awhile, and help them a bit."
But first of all, the goods must be unpacked, and a shed of some kind
made to receive them. This was set about at once, and by dinner time it
was completed, the wagon and cart unloaded, and their contents arranged
as most convenient to Mrs. Lee. The rest of the day was occupied in
chopping down trees for the principal building, and very hard work it
was, especially to Tom, whose young arms and back ached sadly when he
went to bed that night. By the end of a week of this toil, a good number
of logs had been prepared, and Uncle John proposed that he and Tom
should make their way to the settler's, about ten miles distant, and see
if there were any men he could ask to help put up the house, as the
raising of the great logs would prove a slow and laborious task to so
few workmen as they now numbered. He was provided with a pocket-compass,
a rifle, and a good map of the country, and there was no real danger to
be feared, so Mrs. and Mr. Lee readily consented, and accordingly Uncle
John mounted on one of Mr. Jones's horses, and Tom on his father's,
which was one of the four that had drawn the wagon, with a bag of
provisions slung behind him, and an axe to blaze the track, started the
next morning by day-break. Although they were not expected to return
until the next day, the night passed anxiously with the little family,
and it was a joyful relief to them when about three in the afternoon
they heard Tom's well-known halloo from the western wood, and presently
saw him appear, followed by two strangers, and his uncle driving a fine
cow.

"Here we are, mother, safe and sound!" exclaimed the boy, as he jumped
from his horse, and ran to kiss her, "and a fine time we've had!"

"We've been successful you see, sister," said Uncle John, who had also
dismounted, and came up with the cow; "Mr. Watson and his son have very
kindly consented to help us; and isn't this a beauty?"

"Indeed, ma'am," said Mr. Watson, shaking her hand heartily, "it's but a
trifling way of showing how well pleased we are to get neighbors. We
have been living some six years out here, and never had a house nearer
than Painted Posts, a good thirty miles off. My wife says she hopes to
be good friends with you, and when you are fairly settled she will come
over. She's English, too, and longs sadly to talk about the old country
with some one just from it."

"It will give me a great deal of pleasure to see her, Mr. Watson,"
replied Mrs. Lee, looking as she felt, very happy at this prospect of
not being quite alone in the wilderness; "and as we shall both meet with
the wish to be good friends, I think there is no fear of our not being
so."

"You'll soon have some chickens, and turkeys, and pigs, mother," said
Tom; "Mrs. Watson has such a number, and she says you shall have some of
the best. And mother, just look what Jem Watson gave me!"

Tom opened the bag which the day before had carried the provisions for
the journey, and to Annie and Georgy's great delight, pulled out a very
pretty little puppy.

"Now, Annie, you shall name him; he's got no name yet. What shall it
be?"

The children went away to consult on this important matter, and Mr. Lee,
who had been chopping in the wood, now arriving, welcomed his friendly
neighbor, and thanked him warmly for so readily coming to help them.

"Nonsense," rejoined Mr. Watson; "no need of thanks; you would do the
same for me, or you don't deserve the blessings I see around you. My
maxim, Mr. Gale, is a helping hand and a cheering word for every one who
needs them."

CHAPTER III.

A NEW HOME, AND A NARROW ESCAPE.

Six weeks afterwards, our young emigrants felt themselves once more at
home. The log-house was finished, and consisted of one large room, which
served as kitchen and parlor, and of three smaller ones for sleeping.
The roof was covered with large pieces of bark; the chinks of the wall
were stopped up with clay; and the chimney and floor were of the same
material, beaten hard and smooth. The windows were as yet but square
openings with shutters, but before winter came, and it is very severe in
Ohio, Mr. Lee meant to put in glazed frames, as glass could be procured
at Painted Posts. The building stood upon the highest rise of the
prairie, and in front flowed the beautiful river, while the thick forest
screened it behind from the cold winds of the north. No trees, however,
were near it, except three fine sycamores, which gave a grateful shade
when the noon-day sun shone bright and hot. Tom had already contrived
seats of twisted branches beneath them, and it was very pleasant to sit
there in the evening and watch the glorious colors of the western sky,
which Annie compared to the changing hues of a pigeon's neck, or the
glancing of the brilliant fire-flies that night brought forth from their
hiding-places under the leaves. A well-fenced yard was at the back of
the dwelling, and enclosed the wood-pile, stable, and hen and
storehouses. A garden had also been commenced around the other three
sides of the house, in which Tom worked, assisted by his sister and
brother, whenever he could be spared from more important labors. He was
indeed an active, industrious boy, and by his example made even little
George useful. Mr. Jones, who had departed as soon as the walls of the
house were raised, used often to say of him, and it was intended as
great praise, "That Tom is a riglar Yankee--a rael go-a-head!"

In doors things also began to look comfortable; it is true they had only
three chairs and one table, but Mr. Lee had knocked together some stools
and a dresser, which the children thought superior to any they had ever
seen; a rack over it held their small stock of crockery, and a few
hanging shelves on the wall were their book-case: cleanliness and
neatness made up for the want of more and better furniture, and
cheerfulness and content were at home in the humble cottage. Annie was a
great help to her mother, and fast learning to be a good housewife. The
poultry was her particular care, and she had already received from Mrs.
Watson a cock, half a dozen hens, and two pairs of fine turkeys, with
many useful directions concerning their management. She would soon
perhaps have lost them all, however, if it had not been for an adventure
which happened to George, and which made her very watchful of them.

He came running home one day smelling so horribly that he was perfectly
intolerable, and the whole house was scented by his clothes.

"Oh, mother!" he cried, "I was playing in the wood, when I saw such a
pretty animal; I thought it was a squirrel at first, or a young fox, and
it seemed so tame that I ran to catch it, but it ran a little way off,
and then stopped and looked back at me--at last, just when I thought I
should get hold of it, it squirted all over me. Oh! it smells so nasty!"

"You may well say that, Georgy," said his uncle; "but it was lucky it
did not squirt into your eyes, or you might have been blinded for life.
That was a skunk, and very likely thinking of paying a visit to the
chickens when you disturbed it. It makes great havoc in a hen-roost,
Annie; and I would advise you to get Tom to make yours safe."

"That I will, this very day," cried Tom; "but, uncle, I never heard of a
skunk before; what kind of a looking thing is it?"

"Rather a pretty animal, Tom, about eighteen inches in length, with a
fine bushy tail as long as its body. Its fur is dark, with a white
stripe down each side. It can be easily tamed, and would serve very well
as a cat in a house, were it not for the disgusting way in which it
shows its anger. The fluid it squirts from under its tail will scent the
whole country round. Even dogs can't bear it."

"I feel quite uncomfortable now from the smell of George's clothes,"
said Annie.

"The worst of it too, is, that you can't get rid of it; no washing will
take it away."

And so it proved; for notwithstanding repeated washing and airings, that
suit of George's was so offensive that he could no longer wear it; and
as everything placed near it was infected, it was at last burnt.

Tom stopped up every cranny of the hen-house which looked in the least
dangerous, with such neatness and skill that his father and uncle were
quite pleased.

Annie and George were watching him finish his job, when Uncle John came
up with what looked like a large, green grasshopper, which he had caught
on a sycamore.

"Here, Annie," cried he, "is one of the fellows that make such a
grating, knife-grinding sort of noise every night."

"I thought you said the little tree-toads made it, uncle."

"The tree-toads and the katydids too. This is a katydid, or, perhaps, a
katydidn't; for people say they are divided in opinion, and that as soon
as one party begins to cry 'katydid,' the other shrieks louder still
'katydidn't,' which accounts for the noise they make."

"Oh, uncle! do they really?" cried George.

"You must listen, Georgy," replied his uncle, laughing.

"When we first came here" remarked Tom, "mother could not sleep for the
noise they and the tree-toads made."

"The voice of the tree-toad is very loud for so small a creature, but
the katydid has really no voice at all."

"No voice, uncle?"

"No, Annie; the chirp of all kinds of grasshoppers is produced by their
thighs rubbing against their wing-cases."

"How very curious!" exclaimed the children, and the katydid was examined
with still greater interest before it was released to rejoin its
companions on the sycamore.

* * * * *

"What do you think of our building a boat, Tom?" said his uncle to him,
a few days after he had finished the hen-house. "It seems to me that you
and I could manage it. What do you say?"

"Oh! capital!" cried Tom, with delight; "I'm sure we could! let's begin
to-day!"

"Well, we'll try at any rate. When you have driven out the cows, come to
me at the fences."

"Where there's a will there's a way," was Uncle John's favorite maxim,
and certainly he had reason to believe in the truth of it, for he
succeeded in everything he undertook. The boat was no exception: it was
built in a wonderfully short time, and launched one fine day in the
presence of the assembled family. It was not large enough to hold more
than two persons safely, but as Uncle John said, if it did well, it
would be an encouragement to build another capable of containing the
whole household, and then, what pleasant trips they might take!

The two boat-builders rowed several times a couple of miles up and down
the river in the course of the week, bringing home, after each
excursion, a tolerable supply of cat-fish. This was an acceptable change
in their diet, for, except when Uncle John killed some venison, which
had as yet only happened once, or Tom shot squirrels enough to broil a
dishfull, their usual dinner was salt pork and hominy.

But a couple of miles up and down did not at all satisfy Tom's desire of
exploration; he wanted to see more of the river, and especially to
discover a short cut by water to Mr. Watson's mill. Uncle John hesitated
to give his consent to going any distance until something more was known
of the currents and difficulties of the stream, so the boy determined to
go alone. One day, therefore, when his father and uncle were chopping
fences in the woods, he unmoored the little boat, and rowed off. The
weather was very fine, and the current rippled gently on between the
beautiful banks, which were now darkly wooded, now smiling with green
prairies and sunny flowers. The sweet clear song of the robin, or the
monotonous tapping of the brilliant crimson-headed woodpecker, alone
broke the stillness of the scene; and after a time, Tom, somewhat
wearied and heated by the exertion of rowing, felt inclined to yield to
the spirit of rest which breathed around. So he laid aside his oars, and
let the boat drift idly on while he refreshed himself with the cold meat
and bread he had provided for the occasion. The current gradually became
stronger, the banks grew rocky and steep--soon large masses of stone
appeared scattered in the river's bed, and the waters dashed noisily
past. Tom roused up at length, and began to wish that he had not
ventured so far; he seized the oars to return, but too late--his single
strength could no longer direct the laboring boat, now hurried along by
the rushing stream. The banks rose steeper--the river narrowed--the
hoarse sound of falling waters was heard, and Tom saw with despair that
he was approaching a terrific cataract. There seemed no escape from
destruction--there was no hope of help from human hand. The boy looked
around with a pale cheek, but brave heart--one chance yet remained to
save him from certain death--one chance alone! A black and rugged rock,
around which the waters madly leaped and broke, parted the current some
feet from the direction in which his little vessel was impelled;--if he
could reach it, he would be saved! As he approached it he stood
up;--could he make such a fearful leap?--he sat down again, and tried to
calculate calmly the distance and his powers. He drew near the
rock--still nearer--one moment more, and his only chance of life would
be gone forever! He sprang upon the edge of the boat, and, leaping from
it with all the strength of despair, fell, clinging with a death-grasp,
to the projections of the wet and slippery stone, while the boat,
whirling round and round by the impulse, dashed onwards and disappeared!

For some time Tom dared not raise his head; he felt too bewildered, too
terrified by the danger he had escaped, to comprehend perfectly his
present situation. At length he sat up, and endeavored to collect his
thoughts, and determine what next he should do. The river-bank rose
almost perpendicularly full twenty feet; no straggling vine, by whose
help he might have clambered up, fell from it, and the foaming torrent
rushing between it and him, rendered any attempt to scale it, without
some aid from above, utterly impossible. He must, then, call for help;
but who was there to hear him in this wild place--.and how could he make
himself heard above the din of the raging waters which surrounded him?
He was nigh despairing again, when he remembered the whistle with which
he used to call the pigs, and which he always carried about him; he took
it from his pocket, and blew a long, shrill cry--it rose high above all
the roar and tumult of the cataract, and his failing hope and courage
revived.

"Dick," said Jem Watson to his elder brother, as they were shooting
squirrels that afternoon in the woods, about three miles from home, "did
you hear that whistle just now?"

"A whistle! No; whereabouts?"

"It seemed to come from the Fall; but who should be there! father's at
home, isn't he?"

"Yes, father's at home. But, hark! I hear it now! Who can it be?--let's
go see!"

The young man ran off, followed by Jem, and they were soon on the cliff
above poor Tom, who sat wearily looking upwards. "Tom Lee!" they both
cried in a breath, as his pale face met their eyes.

"Why, Tom! how came you there?" called Jem.

"Don't stand bawling, Jem," said his brother; "he'd rather tell you up
here than where he is, I'll be bound! Cut off home as fast as you can,
and tell father to come and bring a rope--that one hanging over my tool
chest. Now be off--that poor fellow looks almost at death's door
already."

Jem needed no second telling, but was out of sight in a moment, while
Dick stayed near the cliff, that Tom might be encouraged by the sight of
a friend. He had not to wait long; in little more than an hour Mr.
Watson and Jem arrived with the rope, and after some trouble they
contrived to pull the wet and shivering boy up in safety. They hastened
with him to the farm, where Mrs. Watson made him change his dripping
clothes for a suit of Jem's, and take some very welcome refreshment,
after which she hurried his return home, knowing from her own mother's
heart how dreadful must be the anxiety of Mr. and Mrs. Lee, ignorant as
they were as to what had become of their son.

It was near sunset when Dick started on horseback, with Tom behind him,
for the ten mile journey through the forest. They had proceeded about
two-thirds of the distance, and had lighted one of the splinters of
turpentine pine they had brought for torches, when they heard a shot.
Dick answered it by another, and a loud halloo! and presently a light
appeared through the trees approaching them. As it came near, Tom
recognised his father and uncle, who had scoured the woods around the
log-house in search of him, and were now on their way to Mr. Watson's,
hoping almost against hope to find him there.

It would be vain to attempt to describe the tenderness lavished on the
truant that night by the happy family, or repeat the many grateful words
spoken to Dick. All the pain that the thoughtless boy had caused was
forgotten in joy for his safety. "You should have remembered, Tom, how
unhappy your absence without our permission would make your mother and
me. How often, my son, have I said to you that--

"Evil is wrought from want of thought,
As well as want of heart."

These were the only reproving words his father's full heart could utter,
but Tom felt them; and when all knelt together before retiring to rest,
to give humble and hearty thanks for the blessings of the past
day--while each heart poured forth its gratitude for the especial mercy
that had been granted--his prayed also for power to resist temptation.

CHAPTER IV.

AN INTRUDER.

"I wonder what is the matter with Snap," cried George one evening about
a week after, as the family were at tea; "he sits there looking at that
corner as if he was quite frightened; I've watched him such a time,
father!"

"Oh yes, father, do look!" cried Annie; "he sees something between that
box and the wall, I'm sure!"

"Hi! hi! good dog! at him!" shouted Tom, trying to incite the dog to
seize the object, whatever it might be. Snap's eyes sparkled and he ran
forwards, but as quickly drew back again, with every sign of intense
fear. At the same moment a mingled sound, as of the rattling of dried
peas and hissing, was heard from the spot. "A snake!" cried Uncle John,
jumping up from the table, and seizing a stout stick which was at hand,
while Mrs. Lee, at the word, catching Willie in her arms, and dragging
George, retreated to the farthest part of the room, followed by Annie.
As the box was carefully drawn away, the hissing and rattling became
louder, and presently a large rattlesnake glided out with raised head
and threatening jaws, and made for the door. Snap stood near the
entrance, as if transfixed by fear, his tail between his legs, and
trembling in every limb. Uncle John aimed a blow, but the irritated
reptile darting forwards bit the poor dog in the throat. Before,
however, Snap's yelp of agony had died away, the stick fell on the
creature's head, and it lay there lifeless.

"He's done for!" cried Tom, triumphantly.

"Yes, and so I fear is Snap, too," said his father; "poor fellow!"

"Can't we do anything for him, Uncle?" asked Tom, anxiously.

"Nothing that I know of--there is but one antidote, it is said, and that
is the rattlesnake weed,--the Indians believe it to be a certain cure
for the bite, but I don't know it by sight."

Mrs. Lee now ventured forward to look for a moment at the still writhing
snake, and Tom then dragged it out of the house; but before throwing it
away, he cut off the rattle, which was very curious. It consisted of
thin, hard, hollow bones, linked together, somewhat resembling the
curb-chain of a bridle, and rattling at the slightest motion. Uncle John
showed him how to ascertain the age of the reptile. The extreme end,
called the button, is all it has until three years old; after that age a
link is added every year. As the snake they had just killed had thirteen
links, besides the button, it must have been sixteen years old; it
measured four feet in length, and was about as thick as a man's arm.

The unfortunate dog died after three or four hours' great suffering, and
was buried the next day at the foot of a tree in the forest. His loss
was especially felt by George, who busied himself for some hours in
raising a little mound over the grave, and then fencing it round, as a
mark of esteem, he said, for a friend.

Meanwhile the summer was slipping fast away, and October came, bringing
with it cool weather and changing leaves. The woods soon looked like
great gardens, filled with giant flowers. The maple became a vivid
scarlet, the chestnut orange, the oak a rich red brown, and the hickory
and tall locust were variegated with a deep green and delicate yellow.
Luxuriant vines, laden with clusters of ripe grapes, twined around and
festooned the trees to their summits, while the ground beneath was
strewn with the hard-shelled hickory-nut and sweet mealy chestnut, which
pattered down in thousands with the falling leaves.

It was at day-break on one of the brightest and mildest mornings of this
delightful season, that the family were awakened by the shouts of Tom,
who was already up and out of doors, setting the pigs, which were his
particular charge, free for their daily rambles in the forest.

"Oh, Uncle John!" he cried, running in for his gun, "do get up: there
are such lots of pigeons about! Flock upon flock! you can hardly see the
sun!"

Every one hastily dressed and rushed out--it was indeed a wonderful
sight which presented itself. The heavens seemed alive with pigeons on
their way from the cold north to more temperate climates; they flew,
too, so low, that by standing on the log-house roof one might have
struck them to the earth with a pole. Millions must have passed already,
when there approached a dense cloud of the birds, which seemed to
stretch in length and breadth as far as eye could reach. It formed a
regular even column--a dark solid living mass, following in a straight
undeviating flight the guidance of its leader. The sight was so exciting
that Mr. Lee and Uncle John ran for their rifles as Tom had done, and
opened a destructive fire as it passed over.

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