Part 24 (1/2)

They thought so, too; and, swinging their hats in the air, bade her good-by and started homeward.

Sam Harper proposed that they should go out of their path to examine the carca.s.s of the deer, so as to learn whether the shot of Herbert took effect; but that young gentleman was frank enough to admit, after his experience, that it was impossible he had come anywhere near hitting the buck. Accordingly, they continued homeward, Herbert going back to the city a few days afterward to find out, if he could, why his gun so often failed to hit the object he aimed at.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

THE ”DARK DAY” OF SEPTEMBER, 1881.

The summer during which Nicholas Ribsam attained the age of twelve years was viewed with dismal forebodings by many people, for the reason that a celebrated weather prophet had foretold that it would be unusually rainy, cold, and wet.

As a consequence, it proved to be the driest known in years. Days, weeks, and even months pa.s.sed without a drop of rain falling from the bra.s.sy sky, and the fine powdery dust permeated everywhere. The weather prophet lost caste, but he persisted in announcing rain, knowing that he had only to stick to it long enough to hit it in the course of time.

As the autumn approached and the drought continued over a vast extent of territory, the forest fires raged in different parts of the country. All day and night immense volumes of smoke and vapor hung over the land, and the appearance of the sun was so peculiar as to cause alarm on the part of those who were superst.i.tious.

There came a ”dark day,” like that of the 19th of May, 1780, which overspread New England, and was most marked in Ma.s.sachusetts. The Connecticut Legislature was in session, and the belief was so universal that the last awful day had come that the motion was made to adjourn.

Then, as the graphic Quaker poet says:

All eyes were turned to Abraham Davenport.

He rose, slow cleaving with his steady voice The intolerable hush. ”This well may be The Day of Judgment which the world awaits; But be it so or not, I only know My present duty, and my Lord's command To occupy till He come. So at the post Where He has set me in His providence, I choose, for one, to meet Him face to face-- No faithless servant frightened from my task, But ready when the Lord of the harvest calls; And, therefore, with all reverence, I would say, Let G.o.d do His work, we will see to ours.

Bring in the candles.” And they brought them in.

Tuesday, September 7, 1881, was a day very similar to the memorable one of a century ago. A strange, greenish-yellow pall overspread the heavens, and so darkened the light of the sun that lamps and gas were lighted, schools and factories closed, and mult.i.tudes of the ignorant and superst.i.tious believed that the Day of Judgment had come.

Everything looked changed and unnatural. The faces of people on the streets were ghastly, the gas jets in the stores, instead of showing yellow, were as white and clear as the electric lights, and thousands of the sect known as Second Adventists gathered in their places of wors.h.i.+p and confidently awaited the appearing of the Lord.

The ”dark day” was more wonderful in the country. The leaves and withering foliage a.s.sumed a most singular tint of green, changing, like that of the gra.s.s, to a brownish hue; fowls went to roost, and the animal creation must have been greatly mystified by a phenomenon such as they had never witnessed before.

A curious feature of this luminous haze was that it cast no shadow. It was as light under the trees as away from them, the whole unnatural appearance of things most likely being due to the immense forest fires which were raging in many parts of the country.

It was during the summer, I repeat, in which Nick Ribsam reached the age of twelve years, that so many forest fires raged, and it was in the autumn of the same year that he saw the famous dark day, so similar to that of September, 1881; in fact, it could not have resembled it more closely, for I may as well state it was that very day to which I refer.

”Nick,” said his father, on that September morning, addressing his boy in Dutch, ”I promised to pay James Bradley one hundred dollars to-day before three o'clock.”

”Yes, sir,” responded the boy, who knew that the debt would be paid on time.

”He was to come here to our house to get it, but he sent me word last night that he would be much obliged if I would send it to him at Martin's store in Dunbarton, as he is obliged to be there all day. I like to accommodate any one, and I will therefore send you to take it to him.”

”Yes, sir; I am ready to go whenever you want me to do so.”

Dunbarton, as has been stated, was a village nine miles away, and the princ.i.p.al grocery store in the place was kept by Jacob Martin. It was there that Nick was to take the one hundred dollars which was to be handed to James Bradley, to whom his father owed it.

It was like a holiday for Nick to take such a drive, and he was glad when his father made known his wishes.

”Harness up the mare to the fall-top and drive over; you ought to be back early in the afternoon.”

”I will, if nothing happens to prevent.”