CHAPTER XXI.
WHY THE BOYS LIKED UNCLE ISAAC.
It has been very evident, during the progress of this story, that theyoung men were very much attached to Uncle Isaac; yet the boys were nota whit the less so; the reasons of which will appear as we proceed.
In the first place, he retained in his feelings all the freshnessand exuberance of his youth; they knew that he liked them; and it isstrange how this unwritten, unspoken language of the heart is generallyfelt and understood.
In the next place, he was never known to divulge a secret, and wasthe depositary of half the love affairs of the young people in theneighborhood; indeed, the boys often confided to him their intendedpranks. If mere fun was the object of them, he permitted them to taketheir course, but, if they were of a malicious nature, would inducethem to give them up, by proposing something else,--generally a trampwith him in the woods, or on the water, the seductions of which no boywas able to resist. It was well it was thus, for he knew infinitelybetter how to manage them than half their parents. It has been wellsaid, that man must look up in order to worship; ’tis just so withboys. A timid, effeminate man can have no influence over a mess ofboys; and if you have any doubt on this point, just read the names onthe boys’ sleds and boats.
When, in the winter, he happened to ride by the school-house, just asschool was out, a curious scene presented itself. Children, in thosedays, were taught to make their manners; but when Uncle Isaac camealong, they first made a bow, or dropped a courtesy, just to manifestrespect; and then boys and girls would pile into the sleigh, and hangaround his neck, till he was well nigh smothered. The old horse wouldlay back his ears, and look around, as though distrusting his abilityto draw the unwonted load; while the schoolmaster, looking out of thewindow, attracted by the noise, and amused to see the little onessearching his pockets for apples, would forget to notice when theminute-glass had run out.
There was another thing which imparted to his society a wonderfulfascination for the boys, which we can in no other way explain sowell as by relating a conversation between little Bobby Smullen andhis grandfather. The boy was at play before the door, as Uncle Isaacreturned from Sam Elwell’s, after picking Yelf out of the ditch. Heendeavored, with all his might, to entice him to go in, as he wanted tolisten, while he talked over old times with his grandparent; but UncleIsaac was in a hurry, and, patting his head, went on.
Bobby, who was a bright, observing little chap, looked after him tillhe was out of sight. Going into the house, he said, “Grandsir, whatmakes Uncle Isaac walk so?”
“Walk how?”
“Why, you know how; he don’t walk like other folks.”
“The child means,” said his grandmother, “because he toes in.”
“That’s because he’s an Indian, Bobby.”
“Why, Jonathan, ain’t you ashamed of yourself? he’s no more of anIndian than you are. I knew his father and mother well; old Mr. Murchand his wife were the best of people.”
“Well, the Indians brought him up, anyhow. I don’t jestly know therights of it; but they carried him off, with some others of his people,when he was a boy; part of them they tomahawked, and part they roastedalive; but one of the chiefs took him, and brought him up. He livedwith them years and years, learnt their language and their ways, andwas as good an Indian as the best of them. I’ve heard him say, hethought their kind of life was happier than ours; he never will getthat wild nature out of him. When the Penobscots come here in thesummer, and camp on his point, he’ll carry them beef, pork, potatoes,and milk, and says they have as good right here as he has, and better,too. He’ll give them anything except rum; he says that wasn’t made foran Indian, because it makes him crazy.”
“Don’t it make white people crazy, too, grandsir?”
“Hush, child; you put me out, and you don’t know what you’re talkingabout. For all he’s such a desperate working cretur, he’ll go downright in haying time, and set on a log, and talk with them, and seemsjust as uneasy all the time they’re about as John Godsoe’s geese.”
“What about John Godsoe’s geese?”
“Nothing, child.”
“Yes, there is; I know there is; do tell your little boy, grandsir.”
“Why, John’s got some wild geese that can’t fly, because one joint oftheir wings is cut off. They go in the pasture with the other geese aspeaceable as can be; but in the spring, when the wild ones are flyingover and konking, they’ll flap their old stubs of wings, and holler,and be as uneasy; that’s jest the way Isaac’s took when the Indians areround. I sometimes think he’d go off with them, if he could get hisfamily to go.”
The horrors of Indian massacre were still fresh in the recollections ofolder people. Smullen’s first wife and old Mr. Yelf’s father were bothkilled by the Indians; and there was nothing more attractive to theyouth of that day. No marvel, then, that a romantic interest mingledin the minds of the boys with the affection they entertained for UncleIsaac.
It is frequently said, one boy is better than two boys, and that threeis just no boy at all; but half a dozen of them would work all day fordear life, with Uncle Isaac, encouraged by the promise, always kept,of going on a tramp with him when the job was over. Boys don’t liketo go gunning, and come home empty-handed. When they went with him,they always brought home game with them; for if they couldn’t shootanything, he could. These attractions enabled him to exert a greatinfluence over them, which he improved to the noblest ends, and madeimpressions that were never eradicated. He was neither in his ownopinion, nor by profession, a religious man; but the teachings of apious mother had laid deep in his young heart the foundation of faithand love. When torn from her by the savages, in the solitude of mightyforests, he had pored and prayed over them, till they ripened into aheartfelt love for Him “who causeth the grass to grow for cattle, andherb for the service of man.”
His teachings were therefore of such a nature, that while divestedof the stiffness generally connected with all attempts at advice orinstruction, they deepened every good impression, and stirred the youngheart to the quick.
A most silly and hurtful notion, often entertained by young peoplein respect to religion, is, that it has a tendency to make peoplenarrow-minded, or, as they phrase it, meeching. Such a feeling waseffectually repressed, as they listened to ideas of that nature fromone who hesitated not to grapple with the fiercest beasts of theforest, and bore on his person the scars of many wounds. His influenceover them was very much increased, for the reason that he seemedanxious to make them happy in this world, as well as the other;inculcated with great earnestness those principles which lie at thebottom of thrift, competence, and the well-being of society.
Religious discourse from their parents, the catechising of theminister, advice in respect to their conduct in life, might be quitedry and uninteresting; but with what power to attract and move werethe same ideas invested, as they fell from the lips of the hunterand warrior, on a wild sea-beach, amid the roar of breakers; in somesunny nook of the hills, with the rifle across his knees, made juicyand attractive by his graphic language; not thrust upon them againstthe stomach of their sense, but, like the teachings of the greatParent of nature, in harmony with bursting buds, the springing grass,shading into a deeper green, or mingling in their ear with the brook’slow murmur, and the music of summer winds among the foliage,--thusimperceptibly, as the increase of their strengthening sinews, growingup with, and moulding the very habit of their thoughts!
There had been no adverse element to disturb these pleasant andprofitable relations, till Peter Clash came into the neighborhood.Nothing but the entire conviction of the uselessness of all efforts toreclaim him, and a knowledge of the injury his influence and examplewas doing to the other boys, caused Uncle Isaac to treat him with suchseverity, and made him resolve to drive him out of the place.
“I wouldn’t be so mean,” said he, “as to throw my weeds into otherpeople’s gardens; but when they throw their weeds into mine, I’ll flingthem back again: he shan’t take
root and go to seed here; we’ve weedsenough of our own.”
The first leisure day John had, after his father’s return, he took hishoe, and going directly to the field where he knew Uncle Isaac wasdigging potatoes, went to work with him.
“I don’t mean to play any more with Pete, and that set; I mean to playwith you, Uncle Isaac.”
“I should like to have a playmate first rate; I’ve been pretty muchalone of late.”
“Will you go gunning with me in your float, after we get these potatoesdug?”
“Yes.”
“Won’t you tell me an Indian story now?”
“I can’t talk and work too; but I’ll tell you one to-night, after we’vedone work, and when we go gunning, and are waiting for birds. Work whenyou work, and play when you play; that’s my fashion.”
When the time arrived, John reminded Uncle Isaac of his promise.
“Well, John, where do you want to go? into the woods, or aftersea-fowl?”
“I’ll tell you what I want to do, above all things; but perhaps youwouldn’t; I want you to learn me to shoot flying. I can shoot very wellnow at a dead mark; but I never, in all my life, shot anything flying.”
“You’ll never be much of a gunner till you can, because there’s tenchances to shoot flying or running game where there is one to shootthat which is still. Take a fox, for instance; ’tain’t one time to ahundred you can shoot one, except on the clean jump, going twelve orfifteen foot at a leap, and looking just like a little streak. Allthese sea-fowl fly out of the bays every night. Now, there’s a placebetween Smutty Nose and the Sow and Pigs, not more than half a gun-shotin width, which they fly through about sunrise, when they come into thebay. I’ve gone there before sunrise, with three guns, and killed overa hundred; been back by the middle of the forenoon, got my breakfast,and, by working a little later, done a good day’s work. What d’ye thinkof that, Johnny?”
“O!” cried John, his eyes flashing, “I shouldn’t want to live anylonger, if I could do that.”
“There’s a good many other places where they fly through; for it’s thenature of them to follow the land. They used to fly through betweenElm Island and the outer ledges, but I expect Ben has pretty much putan end to that; besides, if you have two guns, or a double barrel, itgives you two chances--you can fire at them in the water, and when theyrise give it to them again.”
“I know it; I’ve seen you and Ben shoot wild geese when they wereflying over. Ben burnt mother awfully with a wild goose.”
“How could that be?”
“Well, mother was frying fish in the Dutch oven; Ben fired into a flockthat was flying over the house, and down came an old gander, right downchimney, and flung the fat all over her face.”
“Well, John, as to the learning, you must forelay for them; whenthey’re coming towards you, swing your gun as they fly, and aim jestbefore their bill, and then they’ll fly right into the shot. The bestbird for a boy to practise on is a fish-hawk, because they are a largemark, and fly steady, but they are all gone south now; but a coot willdo very well. You must shoot, and shoot, and practise till you get it;and jest as you begin to think you never can get it, ’twill come. Youbetter take my gun; it goes quicker than yours. I’ll manage the boat;you can fire, and I’ll watch you and tell you.”
On their way home they fell into conversation about the other boys.
“I don’t think,” said John, “that Fred is a bad-hearted boy; we’vealways played together, and he was a good boy till Pete came here. Ibelieve all of them would do well enough, if ’twasn’t for him, andwould never do any real mean mischief of their own heads; they likefun, and so do I, and should be as full of mischief as any of them, ifI didn’t like gunning so much better, which takes up all my spare time.”
“That Pete is too rotten to nail to. As for Fred, there’s morefoundation to him; he’s had a better bringing up; he’s like the fishthat take the color of the bottom they feed on; he falls in with thecompany he keeps, and can’t stand on his own legs.”
“I don’t believe I should have been one whit better than Fred, if Ihad been brought up as he has. I’ve known Fred to do a real good day’swork, and his father and mother never take the least notice of it;now, big boy as I am, there’s nothing pleases me so much as to havefather come and see what I’ve done, and praise me for it; then hisfather always sets his bounds, and tells him he may go to such a treeor rock; of course he wants to go over; he’d be a fool if he didn’t.I’ve gone over there sometimes, all dressed up, to play with him, andhis father would keep him to work, when Fred knew, and I knew, that thework might be just as well done the next day. I tell you, that makes aboy feel ugly. Now, just look at my father; I’ve known him, when boyscame over here to play with me, to let me off, and work till after darkhimself. Think I didn’t put in the next day, and watch for chances tomake it up? and do you think I’ll ever forget it, as long as I live?’Tisn’t every boy, Uncle Isaac, that’s got as good father and mother asI have.”
“You never spoke a truer word than that, John.”
“I don’t believe a boy can love a man, just because he’s his father, ifhe treats him just like a dog.”
“Don’t you think, then, instead of leaving Fred altogether, it would bebetter to ask him to go with you and me sometimes?”
“I think we should have a great deal better time without him.”
“Perhaps so; but we ought to be willing sometimes to displeaseourselves, for the sake of benefiting others. A boy or man, who neverthinks of anybody’s comfort or happiness but his own, is a pretty meansort of an affair, and ought not to be allowed round. There’s Pete;he’s no credit to his Maker, and only a plague to the neighborhood, andswears awful; yet God feeds and clothes him.”
“No, he don’t, Uncle Isaac; because Mrs. Smullen makes the cloth, andmakes the clothes, too.”
“If she does, the Lord gives her the stock, and wit, and strength tomanufacture it. You allow yourself there’s some good in Fred; and I sayit’s no part of a man, when a poor fellow’s on his hands and knees,trying to get up, to jump on him.”
“But you don’t understand. It isn’t just for the sake of going gunning,and hearing the Indian stories, that I like so well to go with you; butI like to hear you talk about good things, and tell me how I can make aman of myself. Fred wouldn’t care a straw for such things.”
“How can that ever be known, till it’s tried? According to your tell,he’s never had much of such treatment.”
“That is very true.”
“You’re very sorry he’s a bad boy; wish he was better; but are notwilling to forego your own pleasure for the sake of getting him intobetter company, and giving him an opportunity to rally. We’ve spent allthis day, and have patiently managed the boat, that you might learn toshoot flying, and you’ve made out to kill two birds; whereas, if I’dtaken the gun, made you manage the boat, or gone without you, I mighthave killed twenty, and been home at dinner-time.”
“I’m ashamed of myself, Uncle Isaac; I won’t be so mean and selfish anymore.”
“Well, Pete’ll have enough to do to take care of his legs this winter,and I think he’ll go off in the spring. Speak kindly to Fred, and keephold of him; and when the warm weather comes, we’ll take him with us,and try to save him.”
Lion Ben of Elm Island Page 22