Part 3 (1/2)
While working in the field that afternoon, Rodney was so absorbed in a.s.sisting and giving Th.e.l.lo directions about the work they were doing, that he did not notice the approach of a tall man on horseback until a pleasant voice greeted him: ”Is this David Allison's son?”
”Yes, sir,” Rodney replied, recognizing Mr. Jefferson of Monticello.
”I overheard some of your directions about the work, and concluded you have a good understanding of it.”
The boy flushed with pleasure. ”Thank you, sir. Th.e.l.lo thinks I've a lot to learn.”
”'Deed no, Ma.r.s.e Rodney. Yo' certain sho--”
”Modesty is a good quality, my boy. I had a long talk with your father the other day. He is anxious for you to have all possible advantages.
Now I have books in my library which I'm sure would afford you both interest and profit. If you will come to Monticello soon we'll select some,” saying which he rode away.
”'Scuse me, Ma.r.s.e Rodney, but dey'll sho' think yo's not one ob de quality ef yo' talks dat ar way 'bout what ol' Th.e.l.lo thinks.”
Rodney made no reply. He stood looking after the man on horseback who had spoken so kindly and who had such pleasant eyes, clear hazel in colour, and which so invited one's confidence.
David Allison was an enthusiastic admirer of Thomas Jefferson, and, on coming to Charlottesville, had at his first opportunity called on him with a letter of introduction. At times he would speak so enthusiastically that Rodney would notice a smile on his mother's face as she said: ”You should remember, David, that you often have too much confidence in men. There are those who say that he is striving to be popular and to win success, and, to please the rabble, would destroy laws and customs under which the Old Dominion has flourished.”
”Aye, la.s.s, that's true o' the part but not of all. Look ye at the lack o' schools. Teaching is honourable work in the old country and in New England. What is it here, an' what chance have the childer to ither teaching than I'm able to gie them? Thomas Jefferson is an inspiring leader under G.o.d's direction I do believe. He's surely a fine man to meet an' seems disposed to help our Rodney.”
CHAPTER IV
RODNEY'S VISIT TO MONTICELLO
One day there came to David Allison's house a stalwart young man clad in the typical garb of the hunter, fringed deerskin hunting s.h.i.+rt belted at the waist, and breeches and moccasins of the same material.
This was no less a person than George Rogers Clark, who was to bear such a conspicuous part in the Revolution, as a daring leader of the forces which saved the great territory north of the Ohio River to the United States. His little brother, then but two years old, was, thirty-six years later, with Captain Lewis, to conduct the Lewis and Clark expedition from the Mississippi River to the Pacific Ocean and thus enable our government to secure the territory of the great Northwest.
”Cap'n George,” as he was familiarly called, was now planning to establish a settlement near the Ohio River, and had called to interest David Allison in the project.
Rodney listened with open-eyed attention to Clark's glowing accounts of fertile lands apparently only waiting for a little enterprise to be developed into a perfect paradise.
The boy saw that his father was much interested, but hesitated, saying that circ.u.mstances were such that he must remain where he was for a few years. Rodney thought he knew the reason but said nothing.
”Perhaps you may yet see your way clear, Mr. Allison,” said Clark on leaving. ”I expect to pa.s.s this way again in a few days, and will call to see if you haven't changed your mind.”
After the caller was gone Rodney said: ”Father, I'll go to Monticello, to-morrow if I may. You know Mr. Jefferson invited me.”
”Glad to have you, my boy.”
The morning gave promise of a beautiful day. By the time Rodney came to the hill, up which the road led to Mr. Jefferson's residence, the sun shone hotly and the dust lay thick, but the boy's thoughts were on the visit, and his heart beat quickly.
The country round about is hilly, but ”Little Mountain,” as the hill was called before Jefferson gave it the Italian name, Monticello, was queen of them all, though Carter's Mountain, a short distance west, is somewhat larger.
Rodney always remembered that morning in May, when Nat ”single-footed”
the hill without stopping. No knight ever stormed a castle, no pilgrim ever approached a shrine with greater earnestness. So eager was he that he did not fully appreciate the glorious beauties of the landscape. The Rivanna River looked like a ribbon of silvery satin laid on green velvet, all in striking contrast with the red soil of the tilled fields. The Blue Ridge mountains, nearly fifty miles distant, were, in the clear air, a ma.s.sive and misty blue background for the picturesque Ragged Mountains near at hand.
There was little about such small portion of the house as was then built to indicate to the boy what its future charms would be. Later, when Mr. Jefferson talked with him, and explained the plans he had made, Rodney understood and admired what, after thirty years in building, thousands have since admired, the beautiful ”Monticello.”