"'By daybreak, if you wish it.'
"Away he went; and by daylight next morning he was at my door,
mounted upon a stout French pony. 'What are you going to do with
that beast?' said I. 'Horses are of no use on the road that you
and I are to travel. You had better leave him in my stable.'
"'I want him to carry my traps,' said he; 'it may be some days that
we shall be absent.'
"I assured him that he must be his own beast of burthen, and carry
his axe, and blanket, and wallet of food upon his own back. The
little body did not much relish this arrangement; but as there was
no help for it, he very good-naturedly complied. Off we set, and
soon climbed the steep ridge at the back of your farm, and got upon
- - lake plains. The woods were flush with flowers; and the little
man grew into such an ecstacy, that at every fresh specimen he
uttered a yell of joy, cut a caper in the air, and flung himself
down upon them, as if he was drunk with delight. 'Oh, what
treasures! what treasures!' he cried. 'I shall make my fortune!'
"It is seldom I laugh," quoth Brian, "but I could not help laughing
at this odd little man; for it was not the beautiful blossoms, such
as you delight to paint, that drew forth these exclamations, but the
queer little plants, which he had rummaged for at the roots of old
trees, among the moss and long grass. He sat upon a decayed trunk,
which lay in our path, I do believe for a long hour, making an
oration over some greyish things, spotted with red, that grew upon
it, which looked more like mould than plants, declaring himself
repaid for all the trouble and expense he had been at, if it were
only to obtain a sight of them. I gathered him a beautiful blossom
of the lady's slipper; but he pushed it back when I presented it to
him, saying, 'Yes, yes; 'tis very fine. I have seen that often
before; but these lichens are splendid.'
"The man had so little taste that I thought him a fool, and so I
left him to talk to his dear plants, while I shot partridges for our
supper. We spent six days in the woods, and the little man filled
his black wallet with all sorts of rubbish, as if he wilfully shut
his eyes to the beautiful flowers, and chose only to admire ugly,
insignificant plants that everybody else passes by without noticing,
and which, often as I had been in the woods, I never had observed
before. I never pursued a deer with such earnestness as he continued
his hunt for what he called 'specimens.'
"When we came to the Cold Creek, which is pretty deep in places, he
was in such a hurry to get at some plants that grew under the water,
that in reaching after them he lost his balance and fell head over
heels into the stream. He got a thorough ducking, and was in a
terrible fright; but he held on to the flowers which had caused the
trouble, and thanked his stars that he had saved them as well as his
life. Well, he was an innocent man," continued Brian; "a very little
made him happy, and at night he would sing and amuse himself like a
child. He gave me ten dollars for my trouble, and I never saw him
again; but I often think of him, when hunting in the woods that we
wandered through together, and I pluck the wee plants that he used
to admire, and wonder why he preferred them to the fine flowers."
When our resolution was formed to sell our farm, and take up our
grant of land in the backwoods, no one was so earnest in trying to
persuade us to give up this ruinous scheme as our friend Brian B - -,
who became quite eloquent in his description of the trials and
sorrows that awaited us. During the last week of our stay in the
township of H - -, he visited us every evening, and never bade us
good-night without a tear moistening his cheek. We parted with the
hunter as with an old friend; and we never met again. His fate was a
sad one. After we left that part of the country, he fell into a
moping melancholy, which ended in self-destruction. But a kinder,
warmer-hearted man, while he enjoyed the light of reason, has seldom
crossed our path.
THE DYING HUNTER TO HIS DOG
Lie down, lie down, my noble hound!
That joyful bark give o'er;
It wakes the lonely echoes round,
But rouses me no more.
Thy lifted ears, thy swelling chest,
Thine eye so keenly bright,
No longer kindle in my breast
The thrill of fierce delight;
As following thee, on foaming steed,
My eager soul outstripp'd thy speed.
Lie down, lie down, my faithful hound!
And watch this night with me.
For thee again the horn shall sound,
By mountain, stream, and tree;
And thou, along the forest glade,
Shall track the flying deer
When, cold and silent, I am laid
In chill oblivion here.
Another voice shall cheer thee on,
And glory when the chase is won.
Lie down, lie down, my gallant hound!
Thy master's life is sped;
And, couch'd upon the dewy ground,
'Tis thine to watch the dead.
But when the blush of early day
Is kindling in the sky,
Then speed thee, faithful friend, away,
And to my Agnes hie;
And guide her to this lonely spot,
Though my closed eyes behold her not.
Lie down, lie down, my trusty hound!
Death comes, and now we part.
In my dull ear strange murmurs sound -
More faintly throbs my heart;
The many twinkling lights of Heaven
Scarce glimmer in the blue -
Chill round me falls the breath of even,
Cold on my brow the dew;
Earth, stars, and heavens are lost to sight -
The chase is o'er!
