CHAPTER II.
With us there was a Doctor of Physic: In all this world ne was there none him like, To speak of physic and of surgery.
* * * * *
He knew the cause of every malady, Were it of cold, or hot, or moist, or dry, And where engendered, and of what humor: He was a very perfect practiser. The cause y know, and of his harm the root, Anon he gave to the sick man his boot.
CHAUCER.
The first care of the faithful Peena or Esther, was to seek thedoctor. She found him at home, and was instantly admitted to hispresence.
"Queen Esther," he exclaimed, the moment he saw her, "is it thou?Welcome, descendant of a line of kings. Would'st like some cider?" Hespoke the word "cider" like the Indians, with a rising inflection onthe last syllable. It was an offer no Indian could resist, and thesquaw answered simply in the affirmative. From a pitcher of thegrateful beverage, which shortly before had been brought into theroom, and which, indeed, suggested the offer, the doctor filled afoaming glass, and the squaw was not long in draining its contents,after which she delivered herself of her errand.
"Esther," exclaimed the doctor, rising and hastening to collect hisinstruments and medicine pouch, "thou hast circumvented me. Why didyou not tell me before? Here have I been pouring cider into yourroyal gullet, when I should have hastened to take a bullet out of someplebeian carcass. Can you tell me the name of the wounded man?"
The squaw shook her head, and only said, "Esther not know."
By this time his preparations were completed, which he had not allowedthe conversation to interrupt, and closely followed by the woman, hehastened to the wharf. Here casting an eye to the flys that waved fromthe masts of some of the vessels, and observing the wind was fair, herejected her offer to take him in the canoe, and throwing himselfinto a little sail-boat, was soon busily engaged in untying the sails.While thus employed a voice saluted his ears:
"Why, doctor, what is in the wind now?"
The person who thus addressed him was a young man of probably not morethan twenty-five years of age. His dress indicated that he belonged tothe wealthier class of citizens, and there was something pleasing inhis manners and address.
"Glad to see you, William," said the doctor. "I want a crew; come,ship for a cruise."
"But where away, doctor?"
"To Holden's island, to visit a wounded man. Jump aboard, and tendjib-sheets."
By this time the sails were hoisted, and, the young man complying withthe invitation, the little craft was soon under weigh, and rapidlyproceeding down the river. The distance was only three or four miles,and quickly passed over. They were met on the beach by Holden, to whomthe gentlemen were both known, but he was unable to inform them of thename of the wounded man. As soon as the doctor beheld him, however, heexclaimed:
"It is Mr. Pownal. God forbid the hurt should be serious."
The countenance of the doctor's companion, and the few words heuttered, denoted also recognition of the stranger.
"So, my poor fellow," said the doctor, as the sufferer extended ahand, and expressed in a few words his pleasure at the coming of thetwo, "that is enough, I claim a monopoly of the talking."
He proceeded at once to examine the wound, which he did with greatcare and in silence. He found, as Holden had said, that the chargehad only grazed the surface, tearing the flesh from the side up tothe shoulder, pretty deeply, indeed, but making an ugly, rather thana dangerous wound. After the task was completed, and lint and freshbandages were applied, the doctor sunk with a sigh, as of relief, upona chair, and assured the young man that he only needed rest for thepresent, and in a day or two might return to his friends.
"I would rather lose six ordinary patients than you, Tom Pownal," hesaid. "Why you are my beau ideal of a merchant, the Ionic capital ofthe pillar of trade. Now, let not your mind be
'Tossing on the ocean; There, where your argosies with portly sail, Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood; Or, as it were the pageants of the sea, Do overpower the petty traffickers.'
Quiet, my dear boy, both of mind and body, are your indispensables. Iwant you to understand that:
'I tell thee what, Antonio-- love thee, and It is my love that speaks.'"
Pownal promised to be very obedient, in consideration whereof thedoctor guaranteed he should receive great satisfaction from his wound."You shall see for yourself," he said, "how beautifully it will heal.To a scientific eye, and under my instruction you shall get one, thereis something delightful in witnessing the granulations. We may say ofNature, as Dr. Watts sings of the honey-bee:
'How skillfully she builds her cell, How neat she stores the wax!'
I consider you a fortunate fellow."
The young men were obliged to smile at the doctor's way of viewing thesubject; but he paid little attention to their mirth.
"And I will remain, meanwhile, with you," said William Bernard, whichwas the name of the gentleman who had accompanied the physician,addressing himself to Pownal, "if our good friend,"--and here helooked at Holden--"has no objection."
The Recluse signified his assent; and Pownal, thanking his friend, thedoctor gave his sanction to the arrangement.
"It will do you no harm, William," he said, "to rough it for a nightor two, and you will prove yourself thereby of a different stamp fromTimon's friends." And here the doctor, who loved to quote poetry,especially Shakspeare's, better than to administer medicine, indulgedagain in his favorite habit:
"'As we do turn our backs From our companion thrown into his grave, So his familiars, to his buried fortunes, Slink all away; leave their false vows with him, Like empty purses picked, and his poor self A dedicated beggar to the air.'
But, Mr. Holden, lend me thy ears a moment, and thy tongue, too, ifyou please, for you must tell me how this happened. I do not care todisturb Pownal with the inquiry."
So saying, he walked out of the chamber, followed by the Recluse.
"Tell me first," said Holden, as they stood in the open air, "whatthou thinkest of the wound."
"Ha!" cried the doctor, "'tis not so deep as a well nor so wide as achurch door; but 'tis enough--'twill serve."
"What!" exclaimed the Recluse, "hast thou been deceiving the boy! Butno, thou art incapable of that; and, besides, I have seen too manywounds to apprehend danger from this."
"I see, friend, you have read Shakspeare to some purpose," cried thedoctor; "but know that I spoke not in the sense in which Mercutiospeaks of the wound that Tybalt gave him. My mirth is not so grave aspoor Mercutio's. Look you, now, I told you but the simple truth, andwhat your own eyes have seen. The wound _is not_ so deep as a well,nor so wide as a church door. If it were--admitting the physicalpossibility--Pownal would be a monster to look at, and no dressings ofmine would be of any use. And it is enough, too. You would not have itmore. Besides, 'twill serve; that is, to keep him a day or two inyour cabin. And herein consists one of the innumerable excellences ofShakspeare. Every sentence is as full of matter as my saddle-bags ofmedicine. Why, I will engage to pick out as many meanings in each asthere are plums in a pudding. But, friend, I am sure you must have acopy. Let me see it."
"I know little of these vanities," replied Holden. "In my giddy youth,I drank such follies, even as the ass sucketh up the east wind. Butit pleased the Lord to open mine eyes. In thoughts from the visions ofthe night," he continued--and his eyes shone brighter, and his statureseemed to increase--"when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon meand trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a vision passedbefore me, and the hair of my flesh stood up. It stood still, butI could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mineeyes--there was silence, and then I heard a voice saying, 'Behold,I come quickly; watch and pray, for thou knowest not the day nor thehour!' I was not disobedient to the heavenly warning, and thenceforththe pomps and vanities of the world have been as the dust beneath myfeet."
This was not the
first time that the doctor heard the Recluse speak ofhis peculiar opinions; but, although always ready to avow and dilateupon them when others were willing to listen, he had uniformlymanifested an unwillingness to allude to himself or the incidents ofhis life. Whenever, heretofore, as sometimes happened, the curiosityof his auditors led the conversation in that direction, he hadinvariably evaded all hints and repulsed every inquiry. But his moodseemed different to-day. Elmer was a friend whom Holden highly prized,and he could therefore speak the more freely in his presence; but thisis not sufficient to account for the dropping of his reserve. We knowno other explanation than that there are times when the heart of everyone is opened, and longs to unburden itself, and this was one of themthat unsealed the lips of the Solitary.
"Is it long since the revelation?" inquired the doctor.
"Too long," said Holden, "did I wander in the paths of sin, andin forgetfulness of my God, and my youth was wasted in that whichsatisfieth not, neither doth it profit. My heart was very hard, and itrose up in rebellion against the Lord. Then it pleased Him (blessed beHis holy name) to bray me in the mortar of affliction, and to crushme between the upper and the nether millstone. Yet I heeded not; and,like Nebuchadnezzar, my mind was hardened in pride, continually. Then,as the King of Babylon was driven forth from the sons of men, and hisheart made like the beasts', and his dwelling was with the wild asses,and they fed him with grass, like oxen, and his body was wet withthe dew of heaven, even so did the Spirit drive me forth into thetabernacles of the wild men of the forest and the prairie, and Isojourned with them many days. But He doth not always chide, neitherkeepeth He His anger for ever. In His own good time, He snatched mefrom the fiery furnace, and bade me here wait for His salvation; andhere, years, long years, have I looked for His promise. O, Lord, howlong!"
The doctor's question was unanswered, either because Holden forgotit, in his excitement, or that he was incapable of giving any accurateaccount of the passage of time. But thus much the doctor could gatherfrom his incoherent account, that, at some period of his life, hehad suffered a great calamity, which had affected his reason. In thiscondition, he had probably joined the Indians, and passed severalyears among them, and afterwards, upon a partial restoration ofintellect, adopted the wild notions he professed. What had passedduring those years, was a secret known only to himself, if, indeed,the events had not disappeared from his memory.
"You have suffered bitterly," said the doctor.
"Talk not of suffering," exclaimed Holden. "I reckon all that man canendure as not to be compared with the crown of glory that awaits himwho shall gain entrance into the Kingdom. What is this speck we calllife? Mark," he continued, taking up a pebble and dropping it into thewater, "it is like the bubble that rises to burst, or the sound of myvoice that dies as soon away. Thereon waste I not a thought, except toprepare me for the coming of my Lord."
"You think, then, this solitary life the best preparation you can makefor the next?"
"Yes," said Holden; "I work not my own will. Can the clay say to thepotter, what doest thou? Behold, I am in the hand of One wiser andmightier than I. Nor hath he left me without duties to perform. I amone crying in the wilderness, and though the people heed not, yet mustthe faithful witness cry. I have a work to perform, and how is my soulstraitened until it be done? Canst thou not thyself see, by whathath happened to-day, some reason why the solitary is upon his lonelyisland? Had he loved the crowded haunts of men, a fellow-being had,perhaps, perished."
The allusion to the occurrence of the morning recalled the doctor'sattention to the purpose for which he had left the chamber, and whichhe had forgotten, in listening to the talk of the enthusiast. Henow directed the conversation to the subject of the wound, and heardHolden's account. He became convinced, both from his statement, andfrom a few words Pownal himself had dropped, as well as from the sightof the gun which Holden had picked up, and found just discharged, thatthe wounding was accidental, and occasioned by the young man's ownfowling-piece. Having satisfied himself on this point, the doctor,with his companion, re-entered the hut. It was only to give a fewparting directions to Bernard, to enjoin quiet upon his patient, andto take leave of him, which he did, in the words of his favorite--
"Fare thee well! The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort."
The Lost Hunter Page 3