Part 11 (1/2)

Chapter IX.

”Last night of all, When yon same star, that's westward from the pole, Had made its course to illume that part of heaven Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself The bell then beating one--”

”Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!”

Hamlet.

It is our duty, as faithful historians of the events recorded in this homely legend, to conceal no circ.u.mstance which may throw the necessary degree of light on its incidents, nor any opinion that may serve for the better instruction of the reader in the characters of its actors. In order that this obligation may be discharged with sufficient clearness and precision, it has now become necessary to make a short digression from the immediate action of the tale.

Enough has been already shown, to prove that the Heathcotes lived at a time, and in a country, where very quaint and peculiar religious dogmas had the ascendancy. At a period when visible manifestations of the goodness of Providence, not only in spiritual but in temporal gifts, were confidently expected and openly proclaimed, it is not at all surprising that more evil agencies should be thought to exercise their power in a manner that is somewhat opposed to the experience of our own age. As we have no wish, however, to make these pages the medium of a theological or metaphysical controversy, we shall deal tenderly with certain important events, that most of the writers, who were cotemporary with the facts, a.s.sert took place in the Colonies of New-England, at and about the period of which we are now writing. It is sufficiently known that the art of witchcraft, and one even still more diabolical and direct in its origin, were then believed to flourish, in that quarter of the world, to a degree that was probably in a very just proportion to the neglect with which most of the other arts of life were treated.

There is so much grave and respectable authority, to prove the existence of these evil influences, that it requires a pen hardier than any we wield, to attack them without a suitable motive. ”Flashy people,” says the learned and pious Cotton Mather, Doctor of Divinity and Fellow of the Royal Society, ”may burlesque these things; but when hundreds of the most sober people, in a country where they have as much mother wit, certainly, as the rest of mankind, _know them to be true_, nothing but the absurd and froward spirit of Sadducism can question them.” Against this grave and credited authority, we pretend to raise no question of scepticism. We submit to the testimony of such a writer as conclusive, though as credulity is sometimes found to be bounded by geographical limits, and to possess something of a national character, it may be prudent to refer certain readers, who dwell in the other hemisphere, to the Common Law of England, on this interesting subject, as it is ingeniously expounded by Keeble and approved by the twelve judges of that highly civilized and enlightened island. With this brief reference to so grave authorities, in support of what we have now to offer, we shall return to the matter of the narrative, fully trusting that its incidents will throw some additional light on the subject of so deep and so general concern.

Content waited respectfully until his father had taken his seat, and then perceiving that the venerable Puritan had no immediate intention of moving personally in the affair, he commenced the examination of his dependant as follows; opening the matter with a seriousness that was abundantly warranted by the gravity of the subject itself.

”Thou hast spoken of one met in the forest,” he said: ”proceed with the purport of that interviews and tell us of what manner of man it was.”

Thus directly interrogated, Eben Dudley disposed himself to give a full and satisfactory answer. First casting a glance around, so as to embrace every curious and eager countenance, and letting his look rest a little longer than common on a half-interested, half-incredulous, and a somewhat ironical dark eye, that was riveted on his own from a distant corner of the room, he commenced his statement as follows:

”It is known to you all,” said the borderer, ”that when we had gained the mountain-top, there was a division of our numbers, in such a fas.h.i.+on that each hunter should sweep his own range of the forest, in order that neither moose, deer, nor bear, might have reasonable chance of escape.

Being of large frame and it may be of swifter foot than common, the young Captain saw fit to command Reuben Ring to flank one end of the line, and a man, who is nothing short of him in either speed, or strength, to do the same duty on the other. There was nothing particularly worthy of mention that took place on the flank I held, for the first two hours; unless indeed the fact, that three several times did I fall upon a maze of well-beaten deer-tracks, that as often led to nothing----”

”These are signs common to the woods, and they are no more than so many proofs that the animal has its sports, like any other playful creature, when not pressed by hunger or by danger,” quietly observed Content.

”I pretend not to take those deceitful tracks much into the account,”

resumed Dudley; ”but shortly after losing the sound of the conchs, I roused a n.o.ble buck from his lair beneath a thicket of hemlocks, and having the game in view, the chase led me wide-off towards the wilderness, it may have been the distance of two leagues.”

”And in all that time, had you no fitting moment to strike the beast?”

”None whatever; nor, if opportunity had been given, am I bold to say that hand of mine would have been hardy enough to aim at its life.”

”Was there aught in the deer, that a hunter should seek to spare it?”

”There was that in the deer, that might bring a Christian man to much serious reflection.”

”Deal more openly with the nature and appearance of the animal,” said Content, a little less tranquil than usual; while the youths and maidens placed themselves in att.i.tudes still more strongly denoting attention.

Dudley pondered an instant, and then he commenced a less equivocal enumeration of what he conceived to be the marvels of his tale.

”Firstly,” he said, ”there was no trail, neither to nor from the spot where the creature had made its lair; secondly, when roused, it took not the alarm, but leaped sportingly ahead, taking sufficient care to be beyond the range of musket, without ever becoming hid from the eye; and lastly its manner of disappearance was as worthy of mention as any other of its movements.”

”And in what manner didst thou lose the creature?”

”I had gotten it upon the crest of a hillock, where true eye and steady hand might make sure of a buck of much smaller size, when--didst hear aught that might be accounted wonderful, at a season of the year when the snows are still lying on the earth?”

The auditors regarded one another curiously, each endeavoring to recall some unwonted sound which might sustain a narrative that was fast obtaining the seducing interest of the marvellous.

”Wast sure, Charity, that the howl we heard from the forest was the yell of the beaten hound?” demanded a handmaiden of Ruth, of a blue-eyed companion, who seemed equally well disposed to contribute her share of evidence in support of any exciting legend.