h
 
 / 
 
 a I E) RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 V.I r
 
 THE PEDLAR 
 
 A TALE OF EMIGRATION. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 
 By CHARLES DELORME, 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Hontjon : 
 THOS. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 
 
 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 
 
 1857.
 
 ^th^(f> 
 
 % 
 
 THE PEDLAE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Although the majority of us in this en- 
 lightened age are comparatively far advanced 
 in geographical knowledge, our ideas of the 
 western world may he said to he associated 
 principally with its cities, with which we are 
 in constant communication. To many Eu- 
 ropeans, America, with its houndless prairies, 
 its interminable forests, and extended plains, 
 is little known. In the progress of civilization 
 the poor aborigines of North America are be- 
 coming a race of the past, and the appearance 
 cf a red warrior in one of the cities of the west 
 
 VOL. 1. B
 
 2 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 excites now as much curiosity, as the sight of 
 the white man created amongst the wild In- 
 dians when the first European settler touched 
 their shores. The accounts of travellers res- 
 pecting North America differ greatly, and are 
 sometimes of a totally opposite character. 
 This arises from the different impressions pro- 
 duced on minds differing in their pecuhar con- 
 struction, and from the various aspects in 
 which the subject of their observations is view^- 
 ed. Conclusions are sometimes too hastily 
 formed, and are often the result of ungenerous 
 impulse. 
 
 Strange as it may appear, it not unfrequently 
 happens that individuals who in the old country 
 left behind them a reputation for acuteness> 
 are the dupes of their too confiding nature. 
 Some, who at home had the character of men 
 of business, find themselves abroad in a con- 
 tinual whirl, and seem to have left their judg- 
 ment and reason behind them ; and, being 
 naturally open and communicative, and feeling
 
 THE PEDLAR. 6 
 
 acutely the friendliness of their position, fatally 
 imagine they have inspired a warm affection 
 and interest in the first stranger with whom 
 they come in contact who is voluble of words 
 and smooth of speech. There are others, how- 
 ever, who take their senses with them, look 
 cautiously about them, and take heed of all 
 they hear ; measure the would-be intruders 
 with caution, keep their own counsel, and wear 
 not '' their heart upon their sleeve for daws to 
 peck at. " 
 
 Woe to the seekers of land, if, like many 
 once hopeful, though now wretched, beings, 
 they happen to make a purchase before sur- 
 veying the locality ; and, when full of antici- 
 pation, they reach the location with their 
 families, find instead of land they have taken 
 possession of a swamp ! Up goes their rude 
 habitation, for they cannot afford to seek 
 redress, and the little log cabin is raised. Nov- 
 elty, for a season, makes the swamp endurable ; 
 and they see not that deadly looking figure — 
 B. 2.
 
 4 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 for such is the demon of fever and ague grin- 
 ning mahciously at them from that stagnant 
 lake just by. The ruddy-faced Enghsh settlers 
 observe not the wan and ghastly form that 
 stalks continually around those standing pools 
 breathing pestilence abroad. The fiend of 
 yellow fever sits with folded arms on a fallen 
 tree, amid the green waters, quietly waiting for 
 his victims ; for he exults at the thought of 
 attacking those stalwart and healthy forms that 
 are now laughing near him in joyous merriment 
 and hopeful anticipation, while the glad sun 
 shines gloriously on the scene around, and on 
 the merry group of children far from their na- 
 tive land in the impenetrable forests of these 
 distant wilds. 
 
 Reader, the above is no imaginary picture, 
 but one which has often been realized by many 
 a once hearty British family, that, by the ad- 
 vice of swindling land agents, has been led to 
 settle in these localities, unhealthy enough to 
 undermine the strongest constitution ; far dis-
 
 THE PEDLAR. i> 
 
 tant too from towns, villages, or markets. Ter- 
 rible indeed becomes the fate of those who 
 depend on strangers for their information ; 
 and in the great cities of the new world there 
 are numbers ready to profit by overweening 
 simplicity, and ever on the watch to entrap 
 unsuspecting emigrants, whom, in the pleni- 
 tude of their superior acuteness, they denom- 
 inate '' green Britishers," and too often succeed 
 in making them the victims of their designing 
 and interested schemes of spoliation. An 
 instance of this (to some irrecoverable) mis- 
 fortune — namely, that of becoming a victim 
 of these ruthless schemers — is related in the 
 following story : — 
 
 Some few years ago, when emigration first 
 became a mania, a hearty looking Englishman, 
 accompanied by his wife and five children, 
 varying from six to nineteen, emigrated to the 
 United States, for the purpose of settling there. 
 At the hotel in New York, in which they had 
 taken up their temporary abode, previous to
 
 6 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 their forthcoming journey to the far west, they 
 accidentally made the acquaintance of a spruce- 
 looking and obliging American. As Mr. Brain- 
 soft, the newly-arrived, had no connections 
 in the city with wliom to spend his time, and 
 was at a loss where to ai)ply for information 
 about disposable land, he eagerly cultivated 
 the society of Mr. Graspcash. This gentleman 
 contrived to render himself particularly agree- 
 able to the whole family of the Brainsofts. 
 He accompanied them in their rambles about 
 the town, pointed out to them all the places 
 of note — inventing a piece of romance for 
 localities where none attached — told them ex- 
 traordinary tales of Washington, and other 
 noted worthies and great men of the United 
 States ; and indeed so amused them with 
 stories of fact and fiction, that he became a 
 necessary adjunct to their little circle. 
 
 When the newly-acquired friend of the 
 family handed Mr. Brainsoft a cigar, one bright 
 afternoon after dinner, that worthy gentleman
 
 THE PEDLAR. 7 
 
 decided all at once, in his own mind, that he 
 would consult his American acquaintance 
 about the best method of proceeding to dis- 
 cover a suitable location for himself and family ; 
 so he seized the opportunity forthwith. 
 
 The family were all seated around the table, 
 and by the contented expression on their faces, 
 any observer could have seen that they Were 
 charmed with the novelty of their situation, 
 and full of hope for the future ; — all too, — 
 wife, — blooming daughters, and fine healthy 
 sons, being satisfied that their fond and worthy 
 parents would speedily discover a first-rate 
 locality for them to settle in. 
 
 Mr. Brainsoft was an important looking per- 
 sonage ; and in the estimation of his wife and 
 children, there was not a more important 
 individual breathing. Before he left the old 
 country, he had satisfied them that he was a 
 clever man of business, for lie had disposed of 
 his trade aid connection to great advantage ; 
 and when he took the chair at the "An^el,"
 
 8 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 with a foaming tankard before him on his fare- 
 well night, pipe in mouth and cup in hand — 
 those who knew what constituted dignity and 
 importance could not but envy the large 
 amount of those quahties awarded by the 
 assembled company to Mr. Brainsoft. As Mr. 
 Dumple, the vice-president, knowingly ob- 
 served, and the remark was received with 
 great approbation by his friends around him, 
 " he was not a man to be took in, for he'd 
 warrant he could see over a Yankee's head in 
 a pease field." 
 
 And he looks well now (at the period of 
 which we are speaking), as he sits in a well 
 stuffed arm chair, smoking a cigar, puffing out 
 the lines of smoke too with a slight conviction 
 in his own mind, which was evident from the 
 expression of his countenance to an interested 
 observer, that he was a person of no little 
 consequence. 
 
 Opposite to him, with his legs gracefully 
 settled in modest diffidence upon the mantel
 
 THE PEDLAR, 9 
 
 piece, is his worthy, tall, and rather sallow- 
 looking friend, Mr. Graspcash ; and though 
 possessing a carefully cultivated "imperial," 
 and '' tuft," not at all proud-looking, but rather 
 by his countenance and bearing fully con- 
 scious, as was that gentleman himself, that Mr. 
 Brainsoft zms a man capable of inspiring great 
 respect. 
 
 "Pray, sir," said Brainsoft "do you know 
 of any land that you could recommend ?" 
 
 The American quietly knocked the ashes 
 from his cigar, took aim with his saliva at a 
 harmless blue bottle on the window ; then 
 gazing upon his friend with an insinuating 
 smile, replied, with a twang of utterance 
 somewhat nasal, "wall, I guess, I might know. 
 'Taint often many know more than me about 
 locations, and other fixins." 
 
 " Oh ! do you, Mr. Graspcash ! " exclaimed 
 the simple wife hearing his reply, and drawing 
 her chair nearer to the table, the children 
 following her example of course.
 
 10 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 '^ Pray tell us, Mr. Graspcash, that's a good 
 gentleman. Oh, we shall all be so glad when 
 we get on a farm. I do so long to milk, and 
 feed the chickens ; the children too, Sir, do 
 get so troublesome, and require so much 
 looking after here." 
 
 *' Ah, madam," said Mr. Graspcash gallantly, 
 prefacing his words by another deadly aim 
 which fairly vanquished the blue bottle, " I 
 wish, I guess, that I had such a family ! 
 They'll be a fortune to you on the farm, the 
 way they'll fix the trees '11 be a caution to the 
 pigeons. You're proud of your family, madam, 
 and, by our President, you've reason to be 
 that. But, however, my good friend, regarding 
 the location you were speaking to me about, if 
 you'll condescend to take the advice of a well 
 wisher to you and your splendid family, I 
 should say you'd better apply to some regular 
 land agent, then you'll sure to be right as 
 chicken fixins, as we say in our republic, stran- 
 ger^ and won't stand no chance of getting bit.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 11 
 
 —ha! ha!" 
 
 At the conclusion of this sage counsel, Mr. 
 Graspcash granted the whole family individ- 
 ually, a smile, which had the effect he desired 
 upon their minds, namely, to beget still further 
 prepossession in his favour, and certainly no 
 better advice could have been given by any 
 party, however disinterested. 
 
 " But I think," said the father of the family, 
 leaning forward towards the American gentle- 
 man and eyeing him hopefully, ^^ you said you 
 were yourself acquainted with some saleable 
 land ; and, if so, my dear sir, you might be 
 good enough to assist me in a negociation for 
 it ? " Wall, I cant say, " replied the gentleman 
 spoken to, " but that I know as much as most 
 aboiit that sorter kind of business, but, " he 
 continued, looking about like a diffident and 
 modest school-boy, " I do not like to have on 
 my shoulders the responsibility of recommend- 
 ing the particular spot that I'm thinking of.,* 
 
 " Why, my good sir, is it then poor land.
 
 12 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 and not fit for a settler ?" 
 
 '' Oh ! no, I guess not," replied Mr. Grasp- 
 cash, " quite the reverse of that, I should 
 calculate, — quite. " 
 
 " Why, my dear sir, then what objection 
 have you to recommend it ? " 
 
 " Why, I'll tell you, then, since you press 
 the thing upon me, " remarked that gentleman, 
 as if determined to sacrifice all compunctions 
 on any score for the sake of such a man as 
 hp was addressing — *'You sir," and he took 
 Brainsoft's hand, '' you, sir, are the first Brit- 
 isher that ever touched the heart of Amos 
 Graspcash. You'll hardly feel inclined to 
 credit that assertion ; but as I'm an honest 
 man, and a free-born citizen of this everlastin' 
 republic, the first sight of you set me a con- 
 siderin. " 
 
 Poor Brainsoft was beginning to feel quite 
 childish, — so fervent seemed the friendship of 
 the speaker. 
 
 " It's a fact, I may say an everlastin' fact.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 13 
 
 that I took a fancy to you, and to your amiable 
 lady, and your sweet family, the instant I set 
 eyes on you on your coming off shipboard, 
 believe me, Mr. Brainsap. " 
 
 " Brainsoft, sir, " feebly said that import- 
 ant personage, becoming still more, and even 
 painfully impressed by the increasing show of 
 feeling and interest displayed in the words, 
 and glistening in the eyes of his good-natured 
 friend. 
 
 " Pardon me, I'm not good at names. Well^ 
 sir, at that instant my bosom yearned towards 
 you. There, said I to myself, if my calcula- 
 tions don't lead me astray, there is a fine- 
 looking man. " 
 
 " Oh !" interrupted the modest being alluded 
 to, whilst Mrs. Brainsoft gazed upon her hus- 
 band with an eye that bespoke even more 
 admiration tlian was its wont. 
 
 *' Ah, sir," continued the insinuating spokes- 
 man, " it is a fact, an everlastin' fact. " "Here," 
 said I, " is a fine-looking man ; no doubt an
 
 14 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 Englishman ; not one of those tarnation loaf- 
 ers that we generally see threadin' the streets 
 of New York, but a substantial looking yeo- 
 man ; and what do you think crossed my mind 
 at the moment, sir, I saw you in the dock ? — 
 what conviction, sir, do you think took pos- 
 session ot my mind at that precise moment ? " 
 
 They all wondered. Mr. Brainsoft shook 
 his head. 
 
 " Wall, sir, I actilly took you for a nohlemaji" 
 
 Mr. Brainsoft stared at the speaker with a 
 look of gratitude for his exalted opinion. His 
 wife held her hands upwards in astonishment. 
 The children gave vent to different exclama- 
 tions of satisfaction, and the good-natured papa 
 rose fifty per cent, in their estimation. 
 
 The eldest daughter, Annie, a pretty girl of 
 nineteen, was busily engaged with some needle- 
 work, and did not appear to be so full of 
 enthusiasm as the rest. 
 
 ^' But, however, " continued Graspcash, ''I 
 see you are somewhat startled at what I after-
 
 THE PEDLAR. 15 
 
 wards found to my surprise was really a mis- 
 take ; and apropos of that, as I was saying, 
 here comes into this city a superior class of 
 people, a liberal looking lot. They ought to 
 be protected ; they ought to be recommended 
 to some first-rate hotel, or they may be taken 
 in ; and then, sir, then, madam, I was about 
 to do violence to my own feelings, and had I 
 not seen with delight that you stopped at the 
 door of the very hotel I was going to recom- 
 mend to your honourable notice, I should 
 really have been presumptuous enough to have 
 intruded myself for the purpose of rendering 
 you some assistance to discover one." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed Mr. Brainsoft. " My 
 dear, " said he to his wife, " we ought to be 
 much pleased that luck has thrown us in the 
 way of Mr. Graspcash, oughtn't we I " 
 
 The wife, with tears in her eyes, assented ; 
 for the kind speech of Mr. Graspcash had 
 caused her to think of home and its associa- 
 tions, as she scarcely expected to meet in a
 
 16 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 distant land any person disposed to become 
 interested in her husband and family on so 
 short a notice, and so willing to offer them 
 his services. As for Mr. Brainsoft, he was 
 literally melted to tears, which appeared some- 
 what strange to the younger Brainsofts, as 
 they never but on one occasion recollected 
 their worthy parent giving w^ay to such w^eak- 
 ness, and that was upon his hearing, not 
 that his uncle was dead, but that he had 
 left him a legacy. The delighted English- 
 man could not refrain from seizing the hand 
 of Graspcash and shaking it heartily. He 
 thanked his good fortune that had thrown him 
 in the way of so noble and generous a spirit. 
 This scene seemed for a moment to disconcert 
 the whole party with the exception of the 
 eldest daughter, who w^as not quite so much 
 impressed with the disinterested offers of Mr. 
 Graspcash. Even that gentleman himself sat 
 silent, and puffed his cigar vehemently till at 
 length he gave expression to his feelings by
 
 THE PEDLAR. 17 
 
 singing — though with a terribly nasal twang — 
 a verse of that most touching of English 
 songs — '' Isle of Beauty, fare thee well. " 
 After a pause of some minutes Mr. Brainsoft 
 speedily recurred to the subject of a settle- 
 ment, and requested to know why Mr. Grasp- 
 cash would not recommend the land with 
 which he appeared so well acquainted. 
 
 In reply, he said, "Wall it is perhaps a 
 foolish objection on my part, so in your case 
 ril waive it ; the reason is merely, sir, that it 
 belongs to my cousin, and you would naterally 
 calculate that 1 was interested in the sale of it." 
 
 " Oh ? is that all, my dear fellow ! Come, 
 wife, we'll soon settle that point then. Here 
 Bessy, love, mix some brandy and water ; — 
 light another cigar, sir. Now, sir pray indulge 
 us with a description of the whereabouts of 
 the lot in question ; besides, if I should become 
 a purchaser, you will be doing your cousin a 
 ice." 
 Wall, as to that, worthy sir, I calculate
 
 18 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 on a near pinch not mucJi of a service, since 
 every year land like that will increase terribly 
 in value ; and though it has no occupant 
 at present, I dont think, from what I heard 
 \vhen I saw Coz last, that he cares to part 
 with it at all. But still, stranger, mind you, 
 I don't say he'd refuse, provided he obtains a 
 fair price. But, fire and tow ! I must be off. 
 I've got to meet a millionaire at five. Call 
 upon me at my house precisely at twelve to- 
 morrow^ and we will speak further upon the 
 subject. Bring Mrs. B. and the family with 
 you, and you'll be able, madam," — said he, 
 with a most insinuating smile, at the same time 
 shaking her hand as if he'd been a friend of 
 the family for years — " to see your worthy 
 husband's not imposed upon ; — not that he's 
 a very likely man for that though, ha ! ha ! " 
 
 So the disinterested American Ijade the host 
 a cordial adieu, and as he left the street door 
 secretly congratulated himself on the impress- 
 ion he had produced on the unsuspecting Mr.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 1& 
 
 Brainsoft and his worthy family. — In their 
 rambles about the city, Mr. Graspcash had 
 shown them various little civilities and at- 
 tentions. He had treated them to delicacies 
 such as ices, cakes, &c. : he had insisted upon 
 paying for their admission to the theatre, and 
 to wind up his generous acts had presented 
 Mrs. Brainsoft with a pair of white kid gloves. 
 Mr. Brainsoft was impressed very much 
 with an idea of his friend's influence, having 
 observed, with evident gratification, that he 
 was recognised with marks of respect at the 
 several auction stores — into which they occa- 
 sionally looked for amusement ; — which the 
 reader should be informed were mock auctions, 
 and not frequented by persons of reputation, 
 except such as were ignorant of the circum- 
 stance. Loungers too, at the portals of some 
 of the hotels, whose style of dress and assump- 
 tion of importance were a guarantee of their 
 respectability in the eyes of the credulous 
 Enghshman — would bow to Graspcash as he
 
 20 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 passed. Their dignified and conceited strut, 
 and the well trimmed " imperial " and mous- 
 tache which adorned their dark-lookin^: visacjes 
 confirmed Mr. Brainsoft in his opinion. 
 
 The worthy Brainsoft could sensibly feel an 
 increasing degree of confidence rising in his 
 mind towards this evidently influential member 
 of society. His amiable, though simple wife, 
 too was constant in her praises of Mr. Grasp- 
 cash, observing, that " during the whole course 
 of her experience in men and manners. — and 
 she had seen " as she said, " a good deal of the 
 world," (grievous mistake! ) she had 'Miever 
 met with so delightful a gentleman. " She 
 recognised in him, — so she informed her good 
 humoured spouse, "a most striking resem- 
 blance to her first love ; " then discovered that 
 he had " eyes like her poor brother that died. '* 
 
 The little ones of the family, too, thought 
 him " a nice gentleman ; " and all this, coupled 
 with Mr. Brainsoft *s own agreeable impressions 
 ot the personage alluded to, produced some-
 
 THE PEDLAR. 21 
 
 thing like an affectionate feeling akin to 
 brotherly love, in the breast of the good-na- 
 tured emigrant, for the disinterested Mr. 
 Graspcash. Annie, sensible girl, had much 
 displeased her father by remarking that there 
 was something about the American which 
 she did not like ; and that her papa had much 
 better wait a little, and apply to some respon- 
 sible house, ere he settled for any purchase 
 with Mr. Graspcash. But her good sense was 
 soon overruled by the father, mother, and ail 
 in concert. The father smiled pityingly, and 
 said, — ^'it was not possible that his Annie, 
 poor girl ! who had never been amongst people 
 of business, should know anything of business 
 dealings ; and therefore he begged she would 
 not think of expressing her opinions in an 
 affair in which he himself was sufficiently 
 acute to bargain to advantage ; " — so she bit 
 her lips and was silent. And she, too thought 
 her father was not likely to be deceived, as 
 she knew he had always enjoyed the reputation 
 of being a skilful man of business.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 After a disturbed night, caused by the usual 
 noises pecuhar to New York, such as fire-bells 
 incessantly ringing from various steeples in 
 the city — engines crashing over the paving 
 stones, drawn by roaring firemen, followed by 
 a vast crowd of people, making the dark- 
 ness horrible with shrieks, and cries of " Fire ! 
 fire ! fi-ar ! " — blowing of discordant blasts 
 through broken winded trumpets — yells of 
 enraged dogs — and blazing scenes, such as 
 strike terror to the stoutest heart ; — after a 
 night answering to this description, the morn- 
 ing brought to the memory of the emigrants 
 that the forthcoming day was to be one of
 
 THE PEDLAR. 28 
 
 eventful business, and one upon which, it 
 seemed to some of them, their fate depended. 
 Had they been blessed with the faculty of 
 seeond sight, it is more than probable they 
 would never have sought the dwelling towards 
 which in full dress they were now directing 
 their steps. 
 
 When the joyous party, headed by the father 
 and mother in full costume, emerged from 
 their hotel, they were surprised to observe 
 that the street was completely blocked up by 
 a concourse of citizens, whilst from the dense 
 and seemingly agitated masses arose an uni- 
 versal din. The reason of this commotion 
 was soon made apparent to the terrified family, 
 for on casting their eyes upwards, they beheld 
 volumes of flame and smoke issuing from 
 ])uildings not far distant, and numerous fire- 
 men holding the hose upon roofs of houses 
 near the scene of conflagration ; and every 
 alternate moment gusts of wind involved them 
 in clouds of smoke, and drove the flame down-
 
 24 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 wards upon the waving multitude. 
 
 The roofs of the houses, the windows, and 
 every place where a view of the fire might be 
 had, were occupied by the fearful inmates, 
 many of whom waited with the most breath- 
 less anxiety for the subjugation of tlie de- 
 vouring element ; resolving every instant to 
 imitate the example of some of their neigh- 
 bours, who were turning their furniture out of 
 doors and windows, regardless of its value, or 
 of the heads of the multitude v>'ho were assist- 
 ing below. 
 
 " Oh ! good gracious ! what's coming now /" 
 cried Mrs. Brainsoft to her husband, clinging 
 closer to his arm, whilst the children retreated 
 up the steps of the hotel. 
 
 " God bless me ! " answered Mr. Brainsoft, 
 quite terrified by the scene ; " God bless me, 
 it's a dead man ! Should'nt wonder but he's 
 been burnt to death. " 
 
 An anxious-looking crowd hurried by, fol- 
 lowing four constables who bore on a stretcher
 
 THE PEDLAR. 25 
 
 a corpse covered with a piece of carpet, which 
 had been hastily picked up from the wreck of 
 furniture strewed about the street. 
 
 *' Oh my dear ! " exclaimed the affrighted 
 mother ; " Oh dear ! how glad I shall be to 
 get to the far west, away from such terrible 
 sights. " 
 
 " So shall I, my love ; indeed I shall. Good 
 gracious ! wife, look at the flames ; " said her 
 husband, much alarmed. 
 
 ^' Hollo, stranger ! you feller ! that looks 
 more like a cussed Britisher than any other 
 animal," cried a rough-looking man, who push- 
 ing through the crowd, bearing a piece of 
 furniture on his shoulders, was eyeing Mr. 
 Brainsoft with an impudent gaze : " why aint 
 you a helpin' at the fire, and not standing there 
 alongside that old woman, like an onder-baked 
 Irisher, and leavin' the upper-crust citizens 
 of this great republic to perish as fast as 
 streaks o' lightnin' ! " 
 
 " Where are you off to with that chair ? " 
 c
 
 26 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 shouted a constable to this civil gentleman, as 
 the confounded Mr. Brainsoft stared earnestly 
 at the crest-fallen individual v^^ho had so im- 
 pertinently addressed him. In an instant the 
 officer was tripped up by the heels, and amid 
 the terrible excitement around, the crowd 
 sent forth yells of laughter at the discomfited 
 official. — Mr. Brainsoft instinctively felt him- 
 self humbled ; when another civil speech was 
 addressed to him as follows : — 
 
 ^^Wall, old feller! you looks as mild as 
 mush and milk, darn me if you don't ! " The 
 somewhat annoyed gentleman, with his wife 
 and children, hurried back into the hotel ; and 
 he was quite puzzled in endeavouring to un- 
 derstand the meaning of the last speaker's 
 polite salutation. As he was remounting the 
 stairs to the family apartment, a waiter said, 
 " I guess, Mr. Brainsop, you'd better get ready 
 your traps for a clare-out, in case we should 
 happen to have a burn. *' 
 
 The alarm of the party was considerably
 
 THE PEDLAR. 27 
 
 augmented by this cool remark of the waiter, 
 and a scene of confusion ensued amongst the 
 circle difficult to conceive ; but ere they had 
 packed up their trunks, the landlord informed 
 them that the fire was got under, and all 
 danger had ceased. This news was consoling 
 to the whole of the party, and put a stop to 
 their confused exertions to secure their goods 
 and chattels. Too much in a hurry, and 
 fearful that the fire would reach them ere they 
 did so, they were heaping them together in 
 sheets and blankets, amidst the scoldings of 
 Mrs. Brainsoft, who, though tumbling about 
 her husband's wearing apparel with little cere- 
 mony, could not submit to behold him inno- 
 cently crowding her silks and satins into a 
 canvas bag, and pressing them down with his 
 feet to make room for a further supply. Some 
 time elapsed ere the family could sunnnon 
 sufficient resolution to make a second attempt 
 to reach the dwelling of Mr. Graspcash ; but 
 another half-hour beheld them all, with tlie 
 c 2
 
 28 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 exception of Annie, emerge from their home, 
 and arriving at a part of the city where the 
 streets were free from any but the usual pass- 
 ers-by, they threaded their way with unruffled 
 countenances toward the aforesaid gentle- 
 man's residence. 
 
 It was in a portion of the city near to the 
 select locality of Chatham-street, that Mr. 
 Graspcash resided. About twelve o'clock in 
 the morning on which the fire took place might 
 be observed two faces peeping out of a win- 
 dow of a shabby-looking boarding-house. 
 One was that of our sharp-looking friend, Mr. 
 Graspcash — the other that of a still sharper- 
 looking personage, having a Jewish cast of 
 countenance. 
 
 They were gazing up and down the street, 
 apparently anticipating the approach of an 
 anxiously-desired visitor. "I guess, " said 
 Graspcash, looking disappointed, " the fire 
 has frightened them Britishers. Tarna-
 
 THE PEDLAR. 29 
 
 tion ! " Suddenly his countenance bright- 
 ened, and seizing his friend by the coat, 
 he exclaimed, " There they air ! Now, 
 Joe Stubbs, come along. Here they come 
 in full sail round the corner, the whole 
 cargo of 'em ! Mrs. Furbelow and old Corp- 
 oration a-head, looking jist like one of our 
 high-pressure Mississippi steamers, a bilin' and 
 hustin' along. Ah ! and their eldest aint with 
 with 'em — that's good ! that gal might baulk 
 me. Here, Dinah," he bawled out, running 
 to the top of the stairs that led to a kitchen 
 below. Up ran a knavish-looking negro 
 woman. " Here, " said Graspcash, patting 
 her on the shoulder, and slipping a piece 
 of silver into her dirty hand ; " show any 
 one who inquires for me into this room ; 
 tell them I am at present engaged with a 
 gentleman on business. Come, Joe, they'll 
 be at the door in a second, I calc'late." 
 So both men, who seemed to be by their 
 lamiliarity on terms of the closest intimacy.
 
 30 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 made haste into an adjoining apartment ; and 
 just as a double knock was heard at the door, 
 Mr. Graspcash said to the Jewish individual, 
 *'Now, old Coon, try the strength of your 
 lungs. " 
 
 The door was opened by the black servant, 
 and she ushered the new arrivals with great 
 deference into a vacant parlour, telling them 
 at the same time that the gentleman enquired 
 for was at home, but he was at present engaged 
 with another on the most important business 
 — something about railroads, she thought. 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! indeed ! Business man ! Well, 
 well, we're in no hurry," said Mr. Brainsoft 
 blandly. The negress, leaving the door ajar, 
 made her exit, and the Brainsofts became 
 seated. The younger branches amused them- 
 selves by looking at some pictures that adorned 
 the walls, and at the sight of one representing 
 the falls of Niagara, they clapped their hands 
 for joy. The fcither, hearing voices in loud 
 conversation in the adjoining room, and having
 
 THE PEDLAR. 31 
 
 caught some words that seemed to dehght 
 him, quieted his family, and bade his wife hsten. 
 During this partial eaves-dropping, Mr. Brain- 
 soft's countenance underwent lively changes, 
 clearly proving that the conversation in the 
 adjoining room, which could be distinctly 
 heard, was very pleasing to the listener. He 
 shook his head in approbation, and in satis- 
 faction at his good fortune in having gained 
 the friendship of so influential a personage as 
 Mr. Graspcash. 
 
 "That's Mr. Graspcash, I know, mother, 
 'cause he speaks through his nose like this," 
 and the speaker, a boy about 16 years of age, 
 began to imitate his nasal twang. The fond, 
 though prudent matron, whispered to her son, 
 " Hush, Harry, for shame ! don't you know 
 you are in a gentleman's house ? don't be rude 
 sir." 
 
 The interested couple cautioning their 
 children to be still, drew their chairs nearer to 
 the partition, when they heard again the well-
 
 32 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 known voice of Graspcash, coupled with that 
 of another, both proving that their lungs were 
 in no wise made of weak material. 
 
 "Wall, wall, Mr. Astor, " continued the 
 friend of the family in merry and loud tones. 
 
 When Mr. Brainsoft heard the name of 
 Astor pronounced in such a famihar manner 
 by his own friend, he was nearly overcome 
 with joy. Ah ! now, he saw% thought he, 
 through all. His friend was the friend of the 
 celebrated millionaire, John Jacob Astor. of 
 whose fame and riches he had heard long 
 before he thought of journeying to America. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " said he, in low tones to 
 his wife, " It's the Mr. Astor the owner of the 
 great hotel that I shewed you the other day, 
 and of half the city besides ! " 
 
 " You don't say so ! " whispered his delighted 
 spouse. 
 
 Again their attention was demanded by their 
 hearing loud exclamations of pleasure issuing 
 from the room wherein the great men were
 
 THE PEDLAR. 33 
 
 closeted. The worthy partner of all Mrs. 
 Brainsoft's joys and sorrows whispered some- 
 thing into the ear of that delighted lady, and 
 the result was they got up from their chairs 
 on tiptoe, and placed their ears to the partition. 
 
 They drew in their breath, as if fearful even 
 that should interfere with a conversation so 
 all important. 
 
 " May I depend upon you, Mr. Graspcash ?" 
 said the voice of the supposed Mr. Astor. 
 
 '' Implicitly, Mr. Astor ; — by the by I forgot 
 to tell you that Clay and Webster — 
 
 " Clay and Webster, — good heavens ! " 
 breathed Brainsoft ; " did you hear that, my 
 dear ? ah ! " he continued, rubbing his hands, 
 '' I told you we were in luck's way. Clay and 
 Webster ! the two greatest men in the Union ; 
 hsten. "— 
 
 " Dine with me, at your hotel, next Wed- 
 nesday, " continued the voice. 
 
 " Dine with him ! did you liear that I " 
 whispered Braiasoft with sparkling eyes ; —
 
 34 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 " his hotel, — no mistake ; oh lucky Brain soft ! " 
 
 "Won't you join us, John ? " continued the 
 voice of Graspcash. 
 
 Poor Brainsoft began to feel his insignificance 
 every moment increase. 
 
 '' He called him John ! Good gracious ! " 
 muttered Mr. Brainsoft, rubbing his hands in 
 glee. 
 
 "Probably 1 will," answered the invisible 
 gentleman, dubbed Mr. Astor, " but I cannot 
 promise. If, however, I can by any means 
 manage to get that loan affair settled before, 
 I certainly will ; but let me see now, if I can't 
 prevail upon you to invest twenty thousand 
 dollars instead of ten, I'd guarantee you a 
 profit of fifty per cent ? " 
 
 " No ! no ! no ! Jack ! " laughed the person 
 addressed. 
 
 " Oh ! gracious me ! " again exclaimed poor 
 Brainsoft, " here's intimacy ! — called him Jack! 
 I'm astounded, I'm d — if I aint. " 
 
 "My dear," said his wife, "you promised
 
 THE PEDLAR. 35 
 
 me that you'd leave that word behind you. " 
 
 "Well, I can't really help it," he returned, 
 " I'm so — so delighted. " 
 
 Indeed the poor lady herself, when she 
 heard a sum of money of such vast amount 
 mentioned, and with such careless jocoseness, 
 between the two invisible ones in the next 
 room, could hardly contain her joy. She was 
 now more than ever lost in admiration of the 
 affable man, who had presented her with the 
 white kid gloves ; and she determined to have 
 the pair cleaned, and placed away in lavender 
 as a relic, in remembrance of the donor who 
 had so honoured herself and family by his 
 condescension and friendship. They still list- 
 ened attentively as the conversation, carried 
 on in a loud, hearty, bantering tone, in the 
 other room, continued. 
 
 *' Ten thousand is quite as much as I can 
 afford to lose, and upon my honour I will not 
 hazard a farthing more, even for you, Jack, 
 rich as you air, and might be sufficient security
 
 36 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 for half the state of New York," ahuost 
 bawled the voice owned by the friend of the 
 family. 
 
 '' Well, well, my boy, " observed the other, 
 since you seem determined upon the point, I 
 ^von't press it ; and regarding the official 
 situation you spoke of, your nephew may de- 
 pend before long upon being appointed. Really 
 Graspcash, it's past twelve ; I always waste a 
 great deal more time than I intend, when I 
 get into your seductive company, for as the 
 song says, ' You've got such a winning way ; ' '' 
 and then they laughed heartily together. 
 
 ^' I estimate you air a flatterer, " said Grasp- 
 cash laughing, as he rang the bell, and a mo- 
 ment after he said, '' Dinah, see if Mr. Astor's 
 carriage is at the door." 
 
 " My carriage," answered the representative 
 of Mr. Astor indignantly, — '' I ride such a day 
 as this ! no, no, not whilst my ^understandings' 
 are strong and vigorous. Good bye, good bye, 
 my boy ; I really cannot stay longer. I shall
 
 THE PEDLAR. 37 
 
 miss a most particular appointment, and I 
 pride myself in being always punctual. " 
 
 " Good bye, John, good bye ; I expect a 
 friend here soon, or I should myself enjoy the 
 air a little, " said the friend of the miUionaire, 
 as they walked up the passage to the street 
 door. 
 
 When Brainsoft and his wife heard the 
 parting words spoken, they returned on tiptoe 
 to their respective seats. 
 
 A moment after they were seated, they 
 heard the great man (for such he was in their 
 estimation), calling to the servant — " Dinah, 
 if an English gentleman of the name of Brain- 
 soft should come, let me know, and I will see 
 him. Mind, I'll see no one else to-day. You'll 
 know him ; he's a fine, portly-looking man. " 
 
 ''Dare's been some terrible smart-dressed 
 people. Mister Graspcash, waiting for you a 
 long time,sa'ar," answered the servant, winking 
 her eye in a strange manner.
 
 38 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 " Oh ! dear me ! dear me ! Vm sorry they've 
 been kept waiting ; " said Graspcash with much 
 show of feeling. 
 
 " Dare in the dining-room, sa'ar. " 
 
 '' Why did you not inform me before ? " 
 
 '' I tought you was busy with Mr. Astor, 
 sa'ar. I didn't Hke to " — 
 
 ^^ Oh, very well — never mind. " 
 
 He then opened the parlour door with a 
 countenance full of sorrow, expressing his 
 regret that his friend should hav been so long 
 there unattended. He seized the hand of 
 Brainsoft and pressed it warmly, gallantly sal- 
 uted the wife, and kissed the youngest child, 
 who said innocently : 
 
 '* We heard all you said, father and mother, 
 and me too ; we all heard you through the 
 wall, good Mr. Graspcash." 
 
 A smile flitted across the American's face, 
 for he had been well aware of their little 
 secret doings ; he did not, however, appear
 
 THE PEDLAR. 39 
 
 the less pleased^ — perhaps by reason of his 
 possessing great control over his emotions, 
 and he pretended not to understand the child's 
 remark.
 
 40 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 After some conversation about the great 
 fire, the business of the day was introduced, 
 and Mr. Graspcash informed the unsuspecting 
 Enghshman that his cousin's farm was situated 
 near the village of Jonesborough, and was 
 famous for its depth of soil and fine oak timber. 
 
 " Why, sir," said he '' my cousin's farm far 
 surpasses any other lot for many miles round. 
 It co;isists of 200 acres, most of which air dar- 
 ed, and in excellent order for cultivation. In- 
 deed, I have frequently heard Coz. say that 
 forty bushels of wheat an acre was below the 
 average crop. Mr. Mc.Ague has four mill sites 
 upon his land. What do you think of that.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 41 
 
 stranger ? actilly four mill sites ! Why, it 
 beats creation holler ! Each of these at some 
 short future time, will be worth dollars on 
 dollars. Of course I mean I guess, when 
 mills is riz. There's terrible splendid water 
 on the land. Nitre creek runs right through 
 it ; and Coz. told me there was a spring at the 
 foot of the house — which you may be sure is 
 as valuable as necessary. Indeed, I cannot 
 say how much a clear sulph — hem ! — a clear, 
 wholesome spring is worth to a settler. Dear 
 me, " said Mr. Graspcash, hastily, '' you've 
 never told me yet in what county in England 
 you was raised. I mean where you was 
 bred. " 
 
 " I am from Essex, sir, said the Englishman. 
 
 ^' From Essex ! from Essex ! you don't say 
 so ! it aint possible, I guess. Do I behold a 
 natijve of Essex ? Pray, sir, may I ask if you 
 air acquainted with the Smiths of that part ?" 
 
 The innocent Brainsoft, whose head was 
 full of the land, not caring exactly about the
 
 42 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 turn the subject had taken, answered to the 
 unconcealed satisfaction of the wily Yankee, 
 who leaned across the table and clasped his 
 hands, as if some recollections of other times 
 had suddenly crossed his brain, and driven 
 business out of it. 
 
 '' My dear Mr. Softbrain, " he said, in an 
 insinuating tone, after a moment's pause — 
 '' no, that is not your name ; if there is any- 
 thing I'm terrible bad at, it's names. " 
 
 "Braiasoft, sir, — B-r-a-i-n-s-o-f-t, sir, " re- 
 plied the obliging man, deliberately spelling 
 his name. 
 
 "Your pardon, Mr. Brainsoft, Brainsoft, 
 Brainsoft, " repeated Graspcash several times. 
 *^ Surely I have heard that name long since. 
 No — no — it can't be — you air not — air you, 
 any relation to old John — or Tom — Brainsoft 
 — ^let me see, I can't recollect his Christian 
 name. " 
 
 ^* You don't allude to my father, old John 
 Brainsoft, the innkeeper ? " hastily exclaimed
 
 THE PEDLAR 43 
 
 the emigrant, anxious to learn that the quest- 
 ioner was a relation, or acquaintance of his 
 family. 
 
 " The very man, sir, " quietly interrupted 
 the sharp one, " John Brainsoft ; didn't the 
 old gentleman keep a tavern ? " 
 
 " He did ; he kept ' The Angel ' at Strat- 
 ford. " 
 
 " I thought as much, " said Mr. Graspcash, 
 in a subdued voice, and raising his handkerchief 
 to his eyes. 
 
 " It makes me feel considerable sorrowful 
 — quite faint-hearted, to think that I never 
 shall see the old gent, again. Ah ! when I 
 was a young seedlin', I've often played back- 
 gammon with him, poor man ! but we must 
 not allow old feelins to smother our present 
 pleasant ones. No ! stern men should ever 
 exercise self-control, Mrs. Brainsoft, " said Mr. 
 Graspcash with a winning smile ; " but " he 
 continued, " I was about to observe, ma'am, 
 tliat I have often, whilst gazin' upon your
 
 44 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 placid features, detected a striking likeness to 
 a lady of my acquaintance at the west-end of 
 London ; a remarkable handsome woman, 
 madam. She held a situation under the 
 Queen. " 
 
 The lady simpered. She could not tell 
 how much she thought of the complimentary 
 American. What a remarkably nice gentle- 
 man he is, thought she. How extremely in- 
 teresting and good-hearted did he now appear 
 to the sensibly flattered mother of five child- 
 ren, who resembled a lady who held a situation 
 imder the Queen ! 
 
 The wily land-agent was soon convinced 
 that he had baited his hook well, and had 
 greedy fish about it. He then gave them 
 some more particulars about the location in 
 question. He noted the countenance of his 
 unsuspecting victim, when he informed him 
 carelessly that the said lot was in Michigan ; 
 but Mr. Brainsoft knew as much about Mi- 
 chigan as of Timbuctoo, and therefore it made
 
 THE PEDLAR. 45 
 
 no disagreeable impression upon him. Had 
 he known any particulars about the various 
 states, he would have been aware that Michi- 
 gan has tremendous swamps, and prairies unfit 
 for cultivation. 
 
 The American would often turn the con- 
 versation to trivial subjects, and this circum- 
 stance, combined with other conduct he 
 exhibited, clearly proved to the mind of the 
 Englishman and his wife that the sale of his 
 cousin's land was a matter of indifference to 
 Mr. Graspcash, and they felt convinced that 
 he was not actuated by any feelings of interest 
 in the matter. 
 
 But sharp Mr. Brainsoft wouldn't allow the 
 bargain to slip through his hands, and a few 
 days after he became possessed of the title- 
 deeds to the valuable lot, paid Mr. Graspcash 
 part of the purchase money, and gave a mort- 
 gage upon the property for the remainder. 
 
 We will now avail ourselves of the usual 
 privilege of tale-tellers, and pass over a month
 
 46 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 or two. We will not dwell upon the night of 
 festivity which Mr. Astor, alias Joe Stubbs, 
 passed with his friend Graspcash ; or detail the 
 many jokes they made at the purchaser s ex- 
 pense, and that of his innocent family ; nor 
 need we hardly state that the land-disposer is 
 again hanging about the wharves, looking out 
 for " Green Britishers, " as he impudently 
 termed the stout yeomen of that great nation 
 called England. We will waive all this, and 
 leave it to the imagination of our readers. 
 We will travel on the wings of thought to 
 their settlement in the " far west." We will 
 seek out the keen Englishman's home in the 
 backwoods. We will hasten to bid good mor- 
 row to the handsome ruddy cheeked family, 
 who left New York all so happy and gay. 
 We shall then be enabled to inform the reader 
 if the land was a bargain ; — whether the 
 Englishman proved as keen as he believed 
 himself to be ; — whether Mr. Graspcash belied 
 his rather questionable appellation ; in fact
 
 THE PEDLAR. 47 
 
 whether our late hopeful and joyous friends 
 were pleased with their new home in the far 
 far off wilds of America.
 
 48 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 There is an old maxim, which, Kke many 
 other old-fashioned maxims, is fomided in 
 good sense, and the truth of which has, in a 
 variety of instances, been amply tested by 
 experience, " never to entrust your business 
 to another when you can do it yourself. " This 
 is particularly applicable in the case of emi- 
 grants to an unknown country. Had Mr. 
 Brainsoft carried this into practice, travelled 
 into the interior, and with his own eyes made 
 a personal inspection of the locality destined 
 for his future residence, before he concluded 
 the purchase, he would, in all probability, 
 have saved himself a world of suffering.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 49 
 
 We will not detail the fearful obstacles which 
 the family of the Brainsofts encountered ere 
 they reached their place of settlement. We • 
 will not detain the reader by describing how 
 they had to journey for long distances with 
 no other guide than a pocket compass ; how- 
 many weary nights they slept in the midst of 
 the dense forests, with no other accommodation 
 than their waggon ; how they were compelled 
 to clear disused and overgrown tracts, to make 
 a roadway for tedious miles, ere they reached 
 their new home — how they were delayed in 
 the midst of dreary swamps, and in their lone 
 journeyings heard nought of life around them 
 —save the incessant croaking of bull-frogs — 
 the occasional howling of wolves — and the 
 call of lonely birds. For days they saw no- 
 thing in the shape of human beings except 
 two ragged half-starved Indians, who passed 
 by at the time when their waggon had broken 
 down in the woods. Thev took no notice of 
 the travellers, however, though they might 
 
 D
 
 50 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 well have seen any assistance would have been 
 welcome. It would be too painful a task 
 to follow them in their desperate journey. 
 Suffice it, then, for our readers to know that 
 after fearful troubles, they arrived at their 
 domain, which they afterwards found to be 
 eleven miles from the nearest village, from 
 which mean place they had been directed to 
 shape their course. The soil of their newly- 
 purchased lot proved to be good ; but almost 
 surrounded with cedar swamps, some of which 
 bordered a small lake. There were, it is true, 
 as the vendor had told them, four situations 
 or sites in a river, whose waters tumbled 
 through their clearing, where mills might be 
 raised at some future, and probably distant 
 period. There was a spring at the foot of 
 a decayed log-house — an useless one, however 
 since it was discovered to be a sulphur spring : 
 so that the family had to go to the river, more 
 than half a mile distant from the dwelling, to 
 fetch water for culinary and other purposes.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 51 
 
 Of the two hundred acres, one hundred were 
 cleared — that is, fifty were so entirely, and the 
 rest partly so ; for the trees that had been 
 chopped down lay scattered over the land in 
 a state of partial decay and rottenness. Un- 
 burnt logs, too, were heaped about, which 
 seemed to augur that the previous settlers 
 who had toiled there, had been driven away 
 by some fatality, or had given up their labours 
 in despair. The whole farm, wherever an 
 attempt had been made at clearing, was one 
 dense mass of strong thistles. 
 
 The nearest clearing was not within three 
 miles, and upon that no human being at 
 present dwelt ; and its aspect presented the 
 appearance of utter desolation. In the midst 
 of partially cleared acres, and hardly higher 
 than the huge and overgrown thistles, which 
 usurped every place where a seed could pos- 
 sibly vegetate, arose a poor log shanty, seem- 
 ing the incarnation of the presiding genius of 
 the wilderness, being partly burnt, and turn- 
 u 2
 
 52 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 bling to pieces through the ravages of frost, 
 time, and neglect. No one now in the village 
 knew who had lived there, or when it had 
 been tenanted ; but all agreed that it was 
 haunted, for the most dismal cries startled the 
 solitary hunter, as, in pursuit of his game, he 
 passed that dreary spot. Once, a curious 
 traveller, less superstitious than others of his 
 class, entered the hut, and there in a corner, 
 to his horror, beheld a skeleton ; while some 
 wild animals, and birds of prey that were 
 ensconced in the lonely dwelling darted forth, 
 and shrieking in their fear at sight of the 
 strange human being, flew off terrified into 
 the dark wilderness. Nothing was found 
 near the skeleton's remains to indicate who 
 he was, or from whence he came. It was 
 supposed that the Indians, having by chance 
 entered the tenement, and finding the poor 
 wretch a corpse, had long ago borne off all 
 the moveables, since not even a rag was dis- 
 covered, nor was a single piece of furniture
 
 THE PEDLAR. 53 
 
 left there. 
 
 The prevailing opinion in the village was 
 that the poor unfortunate was a squatter, who 
 perhaps had pitched upon this place, probably 
 in company with his wife, perchance with 
 children too, but where they were gone no 
 one knew. Possibly they had died, and were 
 buried amidst the mighty forest that stretched 
 everlastingly around ! The one, whose skel- 
 eton was discovered, too exhausted, perhaps, 
 himself to reach any other settlement, had 
 been fain to yield up his spirit far, far from 
 his native land, without kindred or friends to 
 sooth his dying moments, in the midst of this 
 desolate wilderness. Perhaps he had been 
 deceived by some crafty land agent, and thus 
 the fatal consequence. 
 
 Let us now take a look into the interior of 
 the dwelling of the Brainsofts. For many 
 days none of them have emerged from the 
 miserable tenement, but two hardy lads, and 
 a sickly-looking woman — the mother. Where
 
 54 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 are they all ? What occupies them so long 
 within doors ? Where is that hearty English 
 family who stept upon the soil of the New 
 World redolent with hope — joy beaming in 
 their very countenances — strength developed 
 in their limbs — merriment and conviviality 
 ever sounding in their united and noisy voices ? 
 Alas ! when they landed upon the shores 
 of America they congratulated themselves 
 on their happy prospects, and thanked 
 heaven for the protection afforded them on 
 their perilous voyage across the dark Atlantic 
 waters. The head of the family, for the first 
 time in his life, really felt himself a man. 
 His spirit bounded within him, for he had a 
 strong and good family ; a sterling helpmate 
 in his wife ; together with sufficient means to 
 commence his new career, in the pursuit of 
 which he felt confident he should become a 
 thriving man, and that he should meet with 
 others who would respect and appreciate him 
 though fortune had not favoured him in early
 
 THE PEDLAR. 55 
 
 life with a too liberal education. He was 
 simple and good-hearted ; though possessing 
 perhaps, one unfortunate quality, namely, the 
 disposition to suspect where no suspicion was 
 needed, and to trust too credulously where 
 the reverse should have been the case. To- 
 tally ignorant of the country, and too innocent 
 of the real designs of others, perhaps, too, 
 possessing some slight share of vanity, which, 
 being flattered by strangers, led him off his 
 guard ; and not for a moment thinking he 
 might chance to meet a rogue, immediately 
 on his arrival in the new land, he incautiously 
 cultivated the friendship and accepted the aid 
 and advice of a perfect stranger, whose only 
 recommendation was his plausibility, and the 
 apparent interest he took in the fortunes of 
 himself and family. He neglected to consult 
 any responsible and well-known men, who 
 abounded in the city, having become so pre- 
 possessed with this bland American, who ever 
 on the watch to take advantage of the cred-
 
 56 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 ulity of any with whom he might come in 
 contact, had managed to dispose of the lot of 
 land where the family are now situated, for 
 a much larger sum than it was worth. In 
 reality, its value was nothing, since it was, as 
 Graspcash well knew, a locality too fatal for 
 human life long to exist there. 
 
 Well, where is the dupe now ? where his 
 pretty interesting wife ? Where those lovely 
 children — pictures of England — as merry as 
 youth, health, and spirits could make them ? 
 Reader, — within that mean-looking log hut ! 
 Let us take a peep therein — pierce the secret 
 of their existence — and inquire into the con- 
 dition of these children of hope, alas ! the 
 inheritors of the ills peculiar to all flesh. 
 Their fate, indeed is that of all inexperienced 
 emigrants, who fail to exercise that due judg- 
 ment and caution so absolutely requisite to 
 enable them to fix on a proper location with- 
 out which they are hable to be the victims of 
 deception.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 57 
 
 The whole dwelling consisted of but one 
 room, and a little adjoining shanty, which they 
 had built a week since ; for only two months 
 had elapsed since their arrival. The logs, 
 which laid one upon another, formed the 
 shanty, had been freshly chinked — which 
 means that the openings between them 
 were stopped up with small pieces of wood, 
 over which mortar had been roughly spread. 
 The careless winds had rare games in this hut, 
 for they blew through every hole as fiercely 
 as they could ; and they revelled and rioted 
 there in their boisterous play as if they were 
 delighted at the torment which it seemed to 
 give the inmates. And holes all around were 
 there in plenty, to stop which effectually, all 
 skill and ingenuity were useless ; for ever and 
 anon some gust of wind, bolder and more im- 
 pudent than his fellows, would force his way 
 through the newly barred entrance, whistling 
 in his glee, and seeming to laugh at the futile 
 efforts made to prevent his intrusion.
 
 5S ' THE PEDLAR. 
 
 There lies poor Mr. Brainsoft upon a mat- 
 tress spread upon the rough flooring. His 
 face has lost its jolly roundness ; it is haggard 
 and long, and tinged with a feverish flush. 
 He moans continually, and faintly calls for 
 his wife. His tones are irritable and impatient. 
 He is labouring under the effects of that ter- 
 rible scourge called fever and ague ; the fever 
 is now upon him. On another bed in a corner, 
 near the chimney place, reclines the form of 
 a beautiful girl — the eldest of the family. 
 Yesterday she was scorched with fever, but 
 now her limbs shake so that the house trem- 
 bles. The ague is strong upon her, and her 
 delicate frame is in the gripe of the hideous 
 demon, who, could his form be detected, would 
 be seen to revel in her wretchedness. There 
 he sits in the swamp opposite the shanty, 
 across a decayed tree, which long ages ago 
 fell into the slush — a prey to the water at its 
 root. Oh ! could you hear the bony demon 
 laugh ! The carrion shriek at its horrid and
 
 THE PEDLAR. . 59 
 
 unearthly sound! And yet the sun shmes 
 merrily too, and all nature around is luxuriant 
 with innumerable buds; the signs of ap- 
 proaching summer ; — and the fair water lily, 
 untainted, and whiter than swan's down, joy- 
 ously spreads its innocent flower over the 
 waters. No one knows the demon is there ! 
 But those who know what he is like may des- 
 cry his form embodied when the vapour rises 
 from the swamp at night, and the marshy 
 pestilence broods silently over the scene, 
 blighting the fresh budding blossoms of 
 spring. 
 
 The tenant of the second bed, between her 
 fits of shivering, feebly cries to her little sister, 
 who, with pouting lips, and considerate count- 
 enance, stands by her holding a cup of some- 
 thing warm. 
 
 " Sissy ! Sissy ! dear, dear little Sissy ! 
 ma-ake a fire. Oh ! I'm so cold ; — freezing ; 
 put blankets — more — more blankets. " 
 
 They have placed upon the sweet invalid
 
 60 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 piles of covering, but she still shakes with 
 internal cold. At this moment the mother 
 enters with her apron full of chips and dry 
 sticks, for the purpose of kindling a fire. 
 
 " In heaven's name, woman ! you're not 
 going to make a fire ! " cries the feverish man, 
 seeing her intention ; '' I'm dreadfully hot. 
 I burn, I burn. Good heavens, this dreadful 
 place ! don't make a fire ; w^ater ! water ! 
 water ! " 
 
 The poor woman stands irresolute. In your 
 mind reader, picture her ; behold her face, 
 haggard and careworn to a degree. She has 
 all the labour of attending upon the sick. 
 One of her sons has gone to the village to try 
 and procure a doctor ; the other is felling 
 trees in the woods, or doing other necessary 
 work on the farm. Her two other children, 
 with the exception of little Amelia, the one 
 in attendance upon the sick eldest daughter, 
 are too small to be of any assistance to the 
 mother.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 61 
 
 *^ Don't make a fire, " in a more feeble 
 tone of voice said the father ; ^^ oh ! wife, 
 wife ! " 
 
 '^I don't want the fire, dear mother," stam- 
 mers the freezing girl in the corner bed. 
 '' Never mind me, mother ; father's worse 
 than I. Oh how cold ! " 
 
 Sweet, thoughtful, considerate girl ! 
 
 *' Have patience, my darling," whispered the 
 mother. 
 
 " Husband," she said, " I must make my 
 poor Annie a little hot tea, dear, or the cold 
 will kill her. I can't get the fire to burn in 
 the shanty." 
 
 *' Do as you will, " answers the husband ; 
 ^' do it mother ; kiss my darling for me. Poor 
 child ! It's hard — hard — hard, indeed ! Oh ! 
 mother, never advise any one to leave his 
 native land ; — never ! never ! Oh ! to be 
 duped as I have been ! the villain ! the villain!" 
 
 The poor sufferer clenched his fists, and
 
 62 THE PEt)LAR. 
 
 sank back on his pillow, overcome with his 
 emotions and sufferings ; — no doubt the 
 image of Graspcash presented itself to his 
 mind. 
 
 The afflicted mother kneels to blow the 
 kindling flame, and a boy enters, mud-stained, 
 as if from a journey. 
 
 " Mother, " he cries, with anxious face, 
 then looks eagerly from his father to his 
 sister. 
 
 " Hush, Harry ! " says the cautious mother, 
 hastening to him ; '' don't speak loud ; well, 
 child, tell me, did you find a doctor ? tell me 
 —quick — speak low. '* 
 
 The boy looked sorrowfully^ as he was con- 
 strained to reply in the negative. 
 
 " They say," replied he^ " the village is so 
 healthy that no doctor could get a living there. 
 I met, however, a pedlar. I told him our 
 painful tale, and he seemed somewhat affected ; 
 and promised, if he could, to get round to us.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 63 
 
 If he does, perhaps he may tell us of some 
 cure for the ague." 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " whispered the mother, with 
 despair marked in her face. " Oh ! Harry, 
 what shall we do ! Providence will, I trust, 
 watch over us, but I'm so afraid for your poor 
 sister, Harry." 
 
 '' Poor sister ! " echoed the boy, whilst a 
 convulsive sensation rose to his throat, and 
 choked his utterance. At length when he had 
 mastered his grief, and taken from his pocket 
 a package of drugs and groceries, he spoke to 
 his father in kind tones, then called his mother 
 aside. 
 
 " Mother, " tremulously whispered he, 
 " George told me to ask you if he might come 
 in ; he says he keeps coming all over cold 
 every other minute, and though he chops hard, 
 his limbs are almost freezing. " 
 
 " What's that you're saying ? " cried the 
 father, catching a word or two as he raised 
 himself a little from his bed. " What's
 
 64 THE PEDLAR, 
 
 that ? " 
 
 The mother hurried to his bed-side with a 
 pitiful expression of countenance. 
 
 '' Compose yourself, husband, " she said, 
 "George feels a little cold. I suppose the 
 fatigue of chopping is too much for his 
 strength yet. He wishes to leave his work 
 for to-day." 
 
 " Cold, cold, did you say ? Good heavens ! 
 what makes the boy feel cold ? hot — hot as 
 it is ; burning, sultry, fearfully hot ! He's 
 not taken, is he ?" in fearful tones interrogated 
 the feverish man. 
 
 " No — no — no, dear husband ; let us hope 
 not." 
 
 The poor wife knew that to give way to her 
 own grief would be fatal to all ; so breathing 
 an inward prayer to Providence, in whom she 
 placed her trust, she retreated from the bed- 
 side of her husband, and whispered to Henry, 
 saying '^ Tell George to come in, "
 
 THE PEDLAR 6,^ 
 
 The boy departed, and ere five minutes 
 elapsed his brother entered stealthily. He 
 was a bold, sturdy-looking lad, about sixteen 
 years of age. His face, though naturally 
 ruddy, was now extremely pale, and his teeth 
 chattered. 
 
 "George," said the mother, controlling her 
 feehngs " Harry tells me you don't feel very 
 well?" 
 
 '^ No, mother, " he returned, in a tone a 
 little above a whisper. " but how are father and 
 poor Annie." 
 
 The bewildered parent gazed upon him a 
 minute earnestly, and saw directly that tlie 
 fever and ague had laid their cruel hands upon 
 another victim. 
 
 " Oh, heaven ! " she uttered, though hardly 
 above a whisper, " what shall we do ? what 
 will become of us." 
 
 '' Never mind me, mother, I can attend to 
 myself. You've got enough to do to look
 
 6B THE PEDLAR^ 
 
 after father and Annie. If I get worse, I 
 shall be able to manage for myself/' said the 
 considerate boy. 
 
 '^ Oh, dear ! dear ! " whispered the sorrow- 
 stricken parent,. " what is to become of us if 
 we are all laid up ? We can get no help ; 
 who will attend to the cattle ? We want 
 some flour, too. " 
 
 "George can go to the town, mother,"^ 
 answered the boy, " upon old Jack, and get 
 some ; very likely he'd be able to hire a man 
 to assist us. " 
 
 At that instant a strange and peculiar voice 
 was heard without. " Why, this is the loca- 
 tion, is it ? A pleasant situation, tu ! Why, 
 youngster, this aint the kinder sorter home 
 that you Britishers like. Wal, strangers, who's 
 at home here that's not dead ?" called out the 
 hearty voice as the owner of it tapped at the 
 door. Henry, who was with the stranger, 
 opened it and discovered the new comer to 
 the hopeful mother.
 
 THE PEDLAR, 67 
 
 The sound of a strange voice had mstantly 
 dispelled part of her fears. The arrival of any 
 one was to her a sort of oasis in the desert. 
 She saw, therefore, with thanks to Providence, 
 the Pedlar, of whom her son had made men- 
 tion. The comitenance of this individual 
 seemed to the eyes of those who looked upon 
 him as a beacon of hope ; for though his visage 
 was rather attenuated and long, its prevailing 
 expression, and the characteristic play of his 
 features, indicated goodness of heart. In his 
 eyes there was a merry twinkle, and a good- 
 humoured smile illuminated his sunburnt face 
 A shade of sadness seemed to cross his counten- 
 ance as he caught sight of the misery within, 
 but it was instantly dispelled, for being some- 
 what of a philosopher, he thought a cheerful 
 aspect the most suitable where sympathy and 
 assistance were required. He took off his hat, 
 and stood at the door an instant, making at 
 the same time something of a civilised bend to 
 the lady of the house, who, in tremulous.
 
 si 
 
 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 though kind tones, bade him enter and seat 
 himself. 
 
 The Pedlar at the summons entered quietly ; 
 and without saying a word he lifted down a 
 weighty pack which he carried on his shoulder, 
 and which contained his wares ; and making 
 rio noise, placed it in the corner of the humble 
 apartment. After this act, which evinced 
 the greatest solicitude for the patients, he 
 strode quietly, and with the most careful 
 step to the window, and gazed out long and 
 earnestly. All observed his movements with 
 singular interest. They seemed to feel com- 
 fort in his presence, for they fancied that he 
 brought with him the remedy for the fear- 
 ful disease which infested the house. The 
 mother was impatient to consult him, but 
 there was an air of well-bred dignity in his 
 demeanour which inspired her with a feehng 
 of awe, and she forbore for the present to in- 
 terrupt his seeming meditation. 
 
 His age could not have exceeded thirty
 
 THE PEDLAR. 69 
 
 years. His figure was commanding, and there 
 was an expression of conscious worth in his 
 whole manner and appearance. He possessed 
 some skill in medicine, a proof of which he 
 soon after gave to the astonished family. He 
 stood a little time with folded arms near the 
 fireplace, seemingly in deep thought. At 
 length he drew from his pocket a short 
 blackened pipe, filled it with tobacco, and 
 lighted it ; and when he had puffed the first 
 column of odorous smoke into the air, he said 
 quietly. 
 
 " Fit for business ; and now to war with 
 the old enemy.' 
 
 The Pedlar stood betwixt the beds where 
 the invalids lay, and took a long gaze, first at 
 the emaciated male patient, then at the poor 
 girl, who had dropped off to sleep with her 
 head upon the arm of her little sister Amelia, 
 who, with a face full of pitiful compassion, 
 stood patiently at the bedside, fearing to draw 
 her arm from under the head of the sufferer.
 
 70 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 lest she should disturb her. A gleam of in- 
 terest played at that moment upon his features. 
 He then turned his head towards the father, 
 and walked quietly up to him. Finding a 
 log of wood near, he seated himself upon it, 
 and gazed calmly into the face of the feverish 
 man. 
 
 " Tobacco will never hurt the ague," were 
 his first words. 
 
 '^I say, stranger," he continued, addressing 
 the sick man, but not much above a whisper, 
 ^^ give me yer axe-holder, and I'll fix ye up in 
 the Andrew Jackson style, that's quick and 
 sure." 
 
 Mr. Brainsoft supposed the term axe-holder 
 meant his hand, so he put it out of bed, and 
 it was instantly seized, though not roughly, in 
 the bony fingers of the Pedlar, who took 
 from his fob a tremendous watch of most 
 ancient workmanship, and, feeling his pulse, 
 counted its beatings. 
 
 ^' Bless me, stranger ! " he whispered, '* it
 
 THE PEDLAR. 71 
 
 goes like an ingine. I say, old man, did you 
 ever liquor ? " 
 
 The mother watched them with the greatest 
 anxiety. 
 
 "Did I ever liquor, sir?" echoed the sick 
 
 man wonder ingly. 
 
 '^ I mean, did ye ever imbibe the strong 
 waters ? " 
 
 " I never was intoxicated but three times, 
 sir, if you mean that," answered Mr. Brain- 
 soft, not quite comprehending the question 
 of the medical Pedlar ; " and that was when 
 I was forced to take the chair at the Eel-pie 
 club, when the chairman, my friend Mr. 
 Grogson was absent." 
 
 " Wal, stranger, I take it ye've been used 
 to a httle. Now don't fuss. I'll vanquish 
 the enemy for you here, at all events. Come 
 hither, ma'am, " he said softly, beckoning to 
 the mother, who stood with anxiety watching 
 him.
 
 72 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 " Now don't you take on about this strong 
 Britisher. I shall beat him to tarnal shivers 
 in tu tu's." 
 
 '^ Good gracious, sir, is that necessary ? " 
 replied the simple but anxious wife ; " perhaps 
 sir, he can't bear it. " 
 
 The sick man began to doubt whether the 
 traveller had any skill in pharmacy ; at all 
 events he did not seem to rehsh the remedy 
 proposed. 
 
 " Not him, ma'am ; don't you fear for the 
 old man. Leave him to my management. 
 It's the disease I mean." 
 
 The sick man cheered up a little. The wife 
 looked grateful. 
 
 The Pedlar arose, seeing a figure pass the 
 v^indow, and hastily opened the door ; when^ 
 to the astonishment of Mr. and Mrs. Brain- 
 soft, there appeared a gigantic negro, almost 
 sinking imder the weight of a pack, big 
 enough to weigh down an ox, and bearing in
 
 THE PEDLAR. 73 
 
 one hand a stone bottle of spirits, and a 
 couple of rifles in the other. 
 
 '' Massa," the negro said, *' berry sorry — so 
 long ahind. Met rum customer in de swamp. 
 Great big black bear ; hab hard run for it ; 
 safe now dough, tank de Lord. Dis right 
 place, massa ? " 
 
 " All right, Carolina, " answered his master. 
 
 " Ah ! me berry glad ; like drink ob liquor, 
 massa, now." 
 
 Seeing the family, the negro bowed, as well 
 as he could, under the weight of his load. 
 George relieved him of his bottle, and the 
 Pedlar took off his pack. The poor bearer 
 was so fatigued, that he sunk down exhausted, 
 panting for breath, whilst his master opened 
 his own pack, and took therefrom a pestle and 
 mortar, and some drugs. He took off his 
 coat, and was soon busy preparing a dose for 
 the astonished Mr. Brainsoft, who was already 
 blessing heaven for having sent so unexpect- 
 edly to their help, such seemingly able as- 
 
 E
 
 74 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 assistance. 
 
 The negro became suddenly agitated and 
 darted up and ran to the door, when he was 
 greeted with a howl or two from without. 
 
 " Oh ! dat's Sambo/' cried the negro, " me 
 most forget him ; bear no eat him up, ha ! ha ! 
 him berry cunning coon." 
 
 The negro, full of joy, opened the door, and 
 into the room bounded a large Newfoundland 
 dog, having a most sagacious looking count- 
 enance, but which was covered with dirt and 
 blood, evidently indicating that he had had a 
 fight with some wild animal, and had not es- 
 caped without some marks of his oppo- 
 nent's displeasure. The dog bounded to- 
 wards his master, but seeing he was 
 busy, ran round the negro, who caressed him 
 heartily, and almost cried for joy, using 
 the most endearing epithets. He was so 
 overjoyed at finding the creature was 
 not hurt that he hugged him again and 
 again, until at last the dog sat down beside
 
 THE PEDLAR. 7*5 
 
 him, incessantly wagging his bushy tail, and 
 took a quiet survey around with canine saga- 
 city. 
 
 The Pedlar soon finished preparing a dose, 
 which he afterwards administered to his patient, 
 bidding him compose himself to sleep ; and 
 he was soon after in the land of dreams, far 
 away over the mighty ocean, in his native 
 land, which oftentimes in his waking moments 
 he regretted he had ever left. 
 
 The skilful medical adviser saw that the 
 youthful patient still slept. He walked softly 
 up to her bedside, and like a tender nurse 
 lifted her head from the arm of her sister, but 
 so gently as not to disturb the lovely sleeper. 
 By his expression of countenance, however, 
 he did not seem to be altogether satisfied with 
 her appearance. Without making any remark 
 he left her to her repose, and sought the 
 mother, who had gone into the little shanty 
 to prepare some refreshment for the kind 
 strangers,
 
 76 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 To the astonishment of the delighted wife 
 —for she was a hght-hearted soul — the Ped- 
 lar begged her not to fatigue herself by pre* 
 paring any food for himself and the negro, 
 assuring her that they would, in a little time, 
 without her aid, serve up such a repast, 
 the like of which she had never seen in the 
 backwoods before. 
 
 " Will my husband do well, sir ?" ventured 
 the wife to ask. 
 
 **No fear of him, ma'am. You'll see the 
 perspiration on him soon ; just watch it. The 
 way he'll come round will be a caution, I tell
 
 THE PEDLAR. 77 
 
 you. Why, ma'am, he'll be a second Goliah 
 in no dme." 
 
 Pleased beyond conception, she asked what 
 he thought of her daughter. 
 
 His look was not so merry as when he 
 ^poke of the husband. 
 
 He signed to Carolina to fetch in his pack, 
 and began to busy himself in throwing huge 
 logs on the fire. 
 
 ''What do you think of my daughter?" 
 again the mother ventured to ask. 
 
 The Pedlar seemed not to hear her question, 
 and said " Eh, ma'am ? Yes ; a httle tea will 
 do her good when she wakes ; and I've some 
 of the best that ever was raised in the imperial 
 regions ; here, Carolina, undo the pack," he 
 cried to the negro, who just then entered with 
 it. 
 
 The mother became more and more anxious, 
 and began to weep. The Pedlar looked sad. 
 
 " Ma'am, he said, leading her to the door, 
 and pointing to the skies above, while his fea-
 
 78 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 tures assumed a solemn cast, *' what sayeth the 
 scriptures.?" 
 
 " Oh, heavens! " cried she hysterically, " is 
 there danger then ? Oh, my poor girl !" 
 
 " Don't take on, now ; there would have 
 been," solemnly answered the Pedlar, "had 
 not Providence guided me hither ; be assured, 
 my good dame," he afterwards said, " all that 
 skill can do for her I can exercise, so be of 
 good cheer." 
 
 "And my son George ?" 
 
 " I have noticed him," replied the kind man. 
 "He has only a slight attack, which will yield 
 soon to proper attention, I guess." 
 
 " But why, sir, are you so kind to those you 
 know not ? And why were you so good to 
 come all this fearful distance, far from any 
 town or village, to serve strangers ?" 
 
 " Ma'am," answered the Pedlar in solemn 
 tones, / have been a siiffererJ' 
 
 An expression of pain shot athwart his hand- 
 some face. In a moment after it was dispelled.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 79 
 
 however, and he busied himself with the negro 
 in preparing an excellent meal. They turned 
 out from their well laden packs a quantity of 
 provisions, including some delicacies. 
 
 During this busy preparation Sambo, the 
 dog, had quietly stretched himself to sleep, as 
 if he had been used to the family for years ; 
 now and then he sent forth a low growl, but, 
 like Brainsoft, he was off to the land of dreams, 
 and perhaps again in fierce encounter with his 
 enemy, the bear. 
 
 An hour or two afterwards were con«:reffa- 
 ted in the family apartment, around a well- 
 spread board of the of the visitor's providing, 
 the Pedlar, his servant, and all the family, with 
 the exception of the two invalids, the Pedlar 
 took the head of the table, and dandled upon 
 his knee the youngest child, a chubby little 
 thing, with a winning countenance, who ap- 
 peared very well pleased with her seat. 
 
 The tea — some of the Pedlar's own, which 
 he had brought with him — was pronounced
 
 80 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 most excellent by the pleased hostess, who, 
 though entertaining stronger hopes of her 
 daughter's recovery than she did a few hours 
 since, could barely suppress her uneasiness on 
 her account. 
 
 " Just you hearken to an old stager, ma'am," 
 said the Pedlar to the lady, observing the ex- 
 pressions of pain continually flitting across her 
 countenance ; ^' don't you take on about that 
 young critter. She's watched by more careful 
 eyes than yours by a great deal. Them kind 
 o' seedlins who have few sins to account for 
 are under the especial eye, ma'am, of the Al- 
 mighty. Therefore, seeing that's an ondoubted 
 fact, which nobody has the pluck to dispute, 
 why I take it a kinder sorter duty of yours, 
 ma'am, not to doubt the fact neither, and to 
 support your own strength by just pecking into 
 the provisions before us. Just look at that 
 big black man, my nigger ; only observe him 
 eat; with his great grinning black muzzle. 
 As long as he, and his pet there. Sambo, get
 
 THE PEDLAR. 81 
 
 their holds well filled, I guess they care little 
 how others fix theirs." 
 
 "Now, massa," said the good-humoured 
 negro, who indeed was pecking away at a most 
 unmerciful rate, '^now dat ongrateful. Me 
 tink more o' missie dan myself; but me ob- 
 saarve wid much grief dat she no eat ; me 
 darfore set berry good sample." 
 
 The master laughed. The negro grinned, 
 displaying his tremendous teeth, and the 
 curly dog put up his paw for a further supply 
 of food, and if he had had sufficient command 
 of countenance he would in all probability 
 have joined the general laugh, for by his wise 
 expression of physiognomy he seemed to say 
 " I know what you are talking about." 
 
 Suddenly a lengthened yawn disturbed the 
 party, who were all busily engaged in making a 
 good meal, except George, for a little tea was 
 all that he could be prevailed upon to take. 
 
 Immediately following the yawn was heard 
 a voice, exclaiming in droll and cheerful tones
 
 82 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 " For mercy's sake, hand me some of that bread 
 and bacon : and quick with a cup of tea ; why, 
 wife, I could eat a dog's hind leg, I'm so 
 hungry ; make haste." 
 
 The Pedlar did not appear at all surprised 
 at this sudden exclamation of the sick man, 
 for it was that veritable personage himself who 
 had spoken, thereby exhibiting strong symp- 
 toms of convalescence. 
 
 The mother ran to him, overjoyed at his 
 words. 
 
 '' What ! you're awake, old man," said the 
 Pedlar; ''just reflect, though, before you say 
 anything else absurd, and see if you really are 
 awake. Look about you now — who am I ? 
 Who's this black thing ?" pointing to the negro ; 
 " is it Pluto, eh ? in company with Cerberus ? 
 Here, Harry, take your sick father this thump- 
 ing bowl of tea, and a small slice of dry toast." 
 
 The Pedlar sent the delighted Brainsoft a 
 bowl of strong and excellent flavoured tea, 
 with the toast, which that good man quickly
 
 THE PEDLAR. 83 
 
 swallowed, and then begged of him to send hmi 
 something more to eat ; but the Pedlar im- 
 peratively signified that he must have nothing 
 more until the next morning. When the meal 
 was over the negro with much expedition clear- 
 ed the table. His master administered a dose 
 to the sickening lad, and then refilling his pipe, 
 he seated himself with a grave face by the side 
 of Mr. Brainsoft. 
 
 The poor mother was delighted at the 
 change in her husband, and became full of 
 hope that her daughter would also recover 
 under the miraculous skill of the curious phy- 
 sician. 
 
 "Pray sir," said Brainsoft, "accept my 
 thanks for this great kindness. You seem de- 
 signedly sent by Heaven to our succour. Ah! 
 sir, we have been dreadfully taken in. We 
 thought we were coming to a paradise ; weVe 
 found it a perfect hell, sir. Oh ! this dreadful 
 America !" 
 
 " Now, stranger," replied the Pedlar rather
 
 84 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 sharply, " say nothing agahist this hemisphere. 
 Because your observations must arise from 
 your own ignorance and imperfections. You've 
 been gulled, I take ; but that don't say nothing 
 against this v^onderful republic. You've fixed 
 your home in a swamp ; that don't say nothing 
 against the rest of that everlastin' great coun- 
 try. Don't you run away with the impression 
 in your brain that, because you chose, I sup- 
 pose, to be fooled, and set yourself down like 
 an onderbaked goney, right on a deadly swamp, 
 that there aint any other land to be got but 
 swamps. Just you get well again, and I'll 
 point you out locations where the fever and 
 ague daren't go in ; and where you may raise 
 your seedlins, and husband your corn sheaves, 
 with a merry heart in your bosom, and never 
 look back again, I take it, but thank Heaven 
 that sent you to a land where there are neither 
 beggars nor banditti ; where every man gets 
 his fill of God's gifts, and where labour is 
 sweetened by its effect. Come, don't you raise
 
 THE PEDLAR 85 
 
 my dander by saying a word against tliis grand, 
 everlastin' place^ which you Britishers grumble 
 at, because you tumble into the first shark's 
 mouth that's opened to receive yer.' 
 
 Mr. Brainsoft felt quite crest-fallen. He 
 knew well that had he exercised some degree 
 of foresifi^ht he would not have been so swin- 
 died; he therefore replied, 
 
 " Pardon me, sir, I meant no offence. I'm 
 too thankful for your good offices to insult a 
 native by any foolish impulsive remark, and 
 which my misfortunes may lead me to utter. 
 Will you allow me to tell you the facts, sir ?" 
 
 The Pedlar assented, giving another glance 
 at the sleeping girl, and prepared to listen. 
 The duped one related his story, minutely 
 recounting all the facts ; and when he men- 
 tioned the name of Graspcash, a smile would 
 play upon the listener's features, as if the name 
 were not foreign to his ears. 
 
 "And now." continued Mr. Brainsoft, "see 
 the situation we're placed in ; wc ha\ e no hind
 
 86 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 prepared for wheat, and the Httle sum of 
 money that I brought with me is fast wasting 
 away, since everything we eat and drink I have 
 had to send to the village to buy ; what we 
 shall do, I don't know ; — and that rascal, 
 Graspcash, has a mortgage on the property, 
 too." 
 
 The Pedlar smiled, and remarked " You'll 
 hear no more of him, or his mortgage ; you 
 may rest easy on that point. I have heard of 
 that man before. He was a dealer in human 
 flesh, if he be the same Graspcash. Just you 
 hear what kind of impression the mention of 
 that name will make on my nigger ; here he 
 comes. Carolina, did you ever hear the name 
 of Graspcash ? Do you remember him ?" 
 
 The negro seemed, for a moment, utterly 
 confounded. The good-humoured expression 
 which generally overspread his fine features 
 fled, and gave rise to a look in which horror 
 and fearful revenge were depicted. He kept 
 clenching his fists, as he gave vent to the fol-
 
 THE PEDLAR. 87 
 
 lowing expressions, whilst his white teeth were 
 exposed, and his large eyes almost started from 
 the sockets : — 
 
 " Me 'member dat man ! Lor a golly ! dat 
 dam rascal ! Slave cap'en, who tear me from 
 my native Ian', — who strike me down wid big 
 sword, while the sailors tear my wife, my booty 
 little wife, from me, and dash my piccaninny 
 to de earf, where 'em die, wid 'em brains out ; 
 and dey laugh, ha ! ha ! Me see it now ! de 
 billin ! dam rascal ! dam rascal ! — me one day 
 rebenge ! What ! no 'member dat name ! 
 him what take me from my Httle bamboo home 
 — from my piccanniny — my fader — my wife, 
 to sell me to work for slabe ; and when me 
 run 'way to 'scape him, hunt me tree days 
 wid blood hound, dat tore me to the groun', 
 and bleed me nearly to die ! Him what put 
 me in deep stone hole, and hebby chain on 
 me, dat cut my flesh trough ! Him what 
 lash me wid de whip ! Him what pull do 
 teef from my head, to punish me for get away
 
 88 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 from slavery. Him what gib two hundred 
 dollars for find me ; oh ! golly ! Yah ! me 
 'member him ! me do ; me neber forget him 
 by de Lord who made nigger man strong, 
 wid eyes, nose, mouf, like white man ; big 
 arms, long legs, to run, to jump, to walk, to 
 wrestle, to eat, to drink, and to pray ; let me 
 catch him, me tell him someting ! me hab 
 revenge ! Me kill — me kill — kill, kill ! " — 
 
 The Negro, overcome by his feelings, rushed 
 out of the door, and bounded to the woods, 
 followed by Sambo, there to give vent to his 
 deadly but just ire, and to cool down his 
 feelings in the solitudes of the forest. 
 
 " Now you observe," said the Pedlar to the 
 astonished Brainsoft, "by my valuable ser- 
 vants expression of horror at the bare men- 
 tion of his name, how cheaply, even with your 
 losses, you have got off with that scoundrel. 
 
 Poor Mr. Brainsoft was dumbfounded. 
 " Good gracious ! " exclaimed that worthy in- 
 nocent, '*why, if Id been in South Carolina,
 
 THE PEDLAR. 89 
 
 and had met him there, he might have sold 
 me for a slave !
 
 90 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Negro had not been out long, ere he 
 again entered the hut ; his face wore no ap- 
 pearance of the late emotion that had agitated 
 his frame. It was now late in the evening, 
 and he took from his pack a couple of rough 
 blankets, and walked into the adjoining shanty 
 to prepare their beds for the night. The 
 Pedlar strolled out into the open air, accom- 
 panied by his dog. Some heavy clouds were 
 visible in the western horizon, and the wind, 
 he observed, was freshening. The bull frogs 
 were in full chorus, in their numerous singing 
 apartments — the swamps — which abounded 
 there, and their noise, coupled with that of
 
 THE PEDLAR. 91 
 
 the rushing river, was not the most melodious, 
 but to the ear of a backwoodsman the scene 
 would have been strange without it. 
 
 The Pedlar walked onwards, after ijiving 
 vent to exclamations of horror at the locality 
 which he well perceived was almost one vast 
 swamp, and which by the silver moon-tipped 
 cedar trees that stretched as far as he could 
 see, he rightly judged extended its pestiferous 
 influence far into the forest, to all appearance 
 beyond the farthest star. The glorious moon, 
 beautiful and queen-like, wherever she is 
 visible, either in the old world or the new — 
 the beautifier and benefactor of both — the 
 silent witness of some of our happiest moments 
 — now rose above the mighty cedars that 
 towered towards the clear firmament, disclosing 
 more vividly to tlie wanderer's eye the wild 
 scene beneath. There, right before him, 
 thundering along with never-ceasing roar, 
 overleaping its banks, revelled the shining 
 river. Heedless of the black snags that
 
 92 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 breasted its foam, it sped onward in its furious 
 course, pouring its never-ceasing torrent of 
 waters into one of those gigantic inland seas, 
 or lakes of the far west, contributing its por- 
 tion to that wonder of the w^orld — hundreds of 
 miles distant, — the cataract of Niagara. There 
 it was, foaming and raghig, intruding itself 
 ])eyond its bounds, supplied by the melting 
 snows in the North. 
 
 *' Good heavens!" said the Pedlar, mutter- 
 tering to himself, " I'm dead beat. I say, 
 stranger," addressing the river, "be so obliging 
 as to stem your tide, there's a civil creature. 
 Well, Mr. Brainsoft — uncommon appropriate 
 name that, — unless you are amphibious, I cal- 
 culate you'll have to clear out of your bargain." 
 
 The Pedlar having delivered himself of 
 these rather ominous words, turned round and 
 faced the solitary habitation of the Englisli 
 family. 'The poor mean-looking tenement 
 stood in full relief in the brilliant moonlight, 
 surrounded by stumps and dead trees ; some
 
 THE PEDLAR. 93 
 
 of which, being gigantic oaks, raised their 
 leafless branches into the clear air, like mighty 
 genii of the place struck powerless when in 
 strongest vigour, and now lending their aid to 
 increase the aspect of desolation which per- 
 vaded the scene. Upon one of these withered 
 kings of the forest sat an owl comfortably 
 ensconced, making the woods resound with 
 his hootings. — The Pedlar surveyed the scene 
 with considerable apprehension, and remarked 
 to himself, ** I must talk this over with Car- 
 olina, and arrange some plan of escape, or 
 the family of the Brainsofts will have to ex- 
 ercise their swimming qualities." 
 
 He quickly threaded his way through the 
 thistles that vainly opposed his progress to- 
 wards the house, which he had reached within 
 some little distance, when he observed a figure 
 approaching, which his dog, who was by his 
 side, instantly bounded forward to meet. 
 
 "I say,massa," exclaimed the negro Carolina, 
 who had sought his master, " you no ought
 
 94 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 stop out now ; me not happy you out. I say, 
 massy, dis berry funny place. I tink we shall 
 be swamped, for me mush mistaken if dere 
 aint a big lake under our feet. De soil gib 
 when I tread ; and me hear by de noise ober 
 dare, dat de riber am sweUin' — comin' up fast 
 me tink, by de sound. " 
 
 Kis master interrupted him at these words. 
 
 " I was thinking that same thing, Carolina. 
 It does sound as if it were rising ; come to its 
 bank," said the Pedlar, in tones of alarm ; 
 '' Tarnation ! if it should be the case, we must 
 think about a way to clear out — and the family 
 too!" 
 
 "Ah! yes, massa ; berry difficult job dat 
 clave out ; kill dat poor gal ; she berry inter- 
 esting lassie." 
 
 "She is, indeed," answered the Pedlar, 
 " poor girl ! I've taken quite a fancy to her : 
 come Carolina." 
 
 They strode quickly to the banks of the 
 river, and there Carolina exhibited signs of
 
 THE PEDLAR. 95 
 
 terror ; and both came to the conclusion that 
 there were evident indications of a further 
 rise of the waters, but they still hoped they 
 might subside, or at least that there might be 
 no immediate danger. 
 
 The Pedlar's countenance was overspread 
 with a look of something like apprehension, 
 as they both made for tlie dwelhng. They 
 had not, however, proceeded far on their way 
 when the dog came to a dead halt, and, 
 crouching down, whined. 
 
 The men stopped, and patting the dog, 
 looked around. 
 
 " What is it, Sambo ? " whispered the Ped- 
 lar. 
 
 The dog growled, and crouched lower. 
 
 " Shouldn't be surprise but dat dog see 
 someting !" said the Negro, looking about 
 him. 
 
 " Crouch down, Carolina, and look well 
 about you, " said the Master softly, as lie 
 stooped and held the dog by his brass collar.
 
 96 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 "We shall see first rate in a minute, when 
 the moon comes out of that cloud ; keep 
 close, the dog evidently spies a foe." 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder, " said the black, seizing 
 his master's arm, " he see de big bear. Oh, 
 lor a golly me ! * 
 
 Breathless with expectation, they both 
 gazed in the direction of the house from be- 
 hind a heap of brushwood, whilst the struggling 
 moon was gradually emerging from the thick- 
 ening clouds that were fast spreading over 
 the starry canopy of earth. At length the 
 moon, escaping from the dark masses, threw 
 down volumes of her broad welcome light, 
 which in an instant afterwards disclosed to 
 the eyes of the earnest watchers all that lay 
 beneath her smiling countenance. 
 
 **See noting, massa ?" whispered the negro. 
 
 The dog pricked up his ears ; he growled, 
 and seemed to become uneasy. 
 
 " Down, Sambo,' whispered the Pedlar, 
 keeping a tight hold of the dog's collar, *' lie
 
 THE PEDLAR. 97 
 
 still, good dog." 
 
 The dog whined and licked his lips, looking 
 alternately from one to the other of his com- 
 panions. 
 
 " Ehii ! massa," cried the black in a low 
 tone, grasping the sleeve of the Pedlar's coat, 
 ^' put eyes dare — dare he is — lor a golly — dat 
 him ! " 
 
 " Where ? " answered the Pedlar, the blood 
 rushing through his veins at the prospect of 
 gport. 
 
 " Dare, massa — big black ting ! Now look 
 by side ob dat big bhghted tree — dat tall one 
 all alone by itself dare. Lor a golly ! dat him 
 licking him paws." 
 
 The Pedlar anxiously cast his eyes in the 
 direction of a large tree that had been shat- 
 tered and stripped by the lightning, and there, 
 to his joy and surprise, he observed an im- 
 mense black bear, as Carolina said, quietly 
 licking his paws. The negro could barely 
 contain his merriment. He shook like a great 
 
 F
 
 98 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 house in an earthquake, crying " Lor a golly ! 
 just see now dat booty creeter ! whar him off* 
 to now, massa ? Shouldn't wonder him pay- 
 ing an ebening wisit to de pigs." 
 
 " Are there any here ? " said his master, 
 scarcely speaking above his breath. 
 
 '' Yes ; one, two, seben little pigs, in dat 
 stye — yonder dare.*' 
 
 ^^ You're right; here Carolina, where did 
 you leave the rifles ? " said the Pedlar, 
 hurriedly, keeping his eye on the woolly 
 monster before him. 
 
 '' In de shanty massa. Lor a golly ! dare ! 
 fun — aint it ? Now he begin to go again : 
 dare, see ! Now I call dat berry funny. Him 
 seem to be a lubber ob de sublime, for him 
 look about as him go along. Yah ! yah ! 
 Lor a golly !" 
 
 " Carolina," said the Pedlar, whilst his eyes 
 glistened with expectant sport, "just you start 
 now ; go round that thick bush, creep along 
 steadily, and bring the rifles here ; bring one
 
 THE PEDLARk 99 
 
 of the boys with you. I'll keep the dog 
 quiet." 
 
 Carolina, at his master's words, appeared 
 greatly pleased ; and he made off cautiously, 
 but swiftly, keeping out of sight of anything 
 in the clearing, until at length he reached the 
 shanty. He quietly opened the door and 
 seized the two rifles, also some ammunition, 
 and knocked at the door of the family apart- 
 ment. 
 
 Taking along with him the boy, who carried 
 a gun loaded with shot, and an axe, he soon 
 after sought the Pedlar. They found him 
 still crouching behind the brushwood, from 
 which place he commanded a full view of un- 
 suspecting Bruin's movements. The woolly 
 gentleman was making rapid strides towards 
 a solitary pig-stye, in which several young 
 porkers were taking a quiet snooze. The bear 
 closely watched by his pursuers, at length 
 reached the habitation of the pigs, and several 
 times quietly walked round it, now and then
 
 100 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 stopping short and looking about him, as if 
 conscience-struck with the sin he was about 
 to commit ; then, taking an admiring glance 
 at the moon, which shone saucily right into 
 his blearing eyes, and after a prehminary lick 
 of his great paws, he mounted gracefully upon 
 his hind legs and took a quiet survey of the 
 interior of the pigs* apartment. Something 
 pleased his eyes much, and awakened his ap- 
 petite, for he licked his lips at a fearful rate. 
 
 The negro beheld his motions with signs of 
 the greatest admiration. " Now, dare ! " said 
 he, " I clare him quite a gembleman, and him 
 knock at de door afore him go in ; dat berry 
 polite indeed. Ah, golly ! ah, golly ! massa, 
 see dare now, dey no answer him ; him take 
 de liberty to go in, widout waitin' to see if 
 anybody at home. Yah 1 yah ! yah ! dat 
 berry droll ; me tickle him presently." 
 
 The dog Sambo had seen all that was going 
 on, and he whined to be let loose. The clouds 
 again hid the moon's light, and the objects ou
 
 THE PEDLAR. 101 
 
 earth became dimmer to the sight. Mutter- 
 ings of distant thunder were heard, and large 
 rain drops came pattering down. 
 
 The Pedlar motioned to the negrb, and 
 said emphatically, " Cover the lock of your 
 rifle. Now Carohna, and you youngster, di- 
 rectly the bear enters the pig-stye make for it 
 as hard as possible, but mind and keep by me ; 
 keep close — the thunder alarms him. When 
 I hold up my finger, fire at him." 
 
 The bear, when the thunder sounded, looked 
 about, as if uncertain what course to pursue ; 
 but he soon proved what was his intention, as 
 he tumbled hurly-burley into the pig-stye, 
 from which humble tenement there was pres- 
 ently heard a terrific hubbub amongst the 
 family, for the squeaks of the inmates became 
 terrific, coupled too with the growls of the 
 bear, who was hugging one of them in a most 
 unmerciful manner. 
 
 At the moment of the bear's intrusion into 
 the dwelling of the pigs, the Pedlar and the
 
 102 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 others bounded over the clearing, and came 
 to a halt within a few yards of the pig-stye, 
 and ere the bear saw or heard anything of 
 their approach they were all three, with the 
 dog, behind some great trees, quite hid from 
 Bruin's view. 
 
 Amid the horrid din of squeaking. Bruin 
 appeared with one of the family in his mouth 
 reclimbing his way out of the house into 
 which he had so ruthlessly entered. His 
 countenance, with all his sanguinary pro- 
 pensities, had something of an amiable cast, 
 and the most lively satisfaction beamed in his 
 visual organs. 
 
 The finger of the Pedlar was up. Carolina 
 covered the nose of the ruthless assailant with 
 his piece, and the bear, hearing no report, 
 from the deafening noise of the squeaking, 
 the still increasing sounds of the thunder, the 
 roaring of the river, and the howling of the 
 wind, was astonished to find himself unex- 
 pectedly hurt, and for a moment appeared to
 
 THE PEDLAR 103 
 
 be endeavouring to discover the invisible 
 cause. Before he had much time, however, 
 to indulge his ruminations as to the cause of 
 this catastrophe, a bullet from the Pedlar's 
 rifle somewhat affected his intellect ; and ere 
 he had time to ponder on the subject, his 
 memory was beyond recall, and with a fearful 
 growl, that sounded even above the increasing 
 din of the elements, he dropped his prey — 
 the fortunate squeaker — unharmed, and rolled 
 over stone dead outside the fortress that he 
 had so cleverly assaulted. 
 
 The Pedlar was dehghted. The negro 
 could not contain his joy when he recognized 
 in the prostrate monster his old foe. The dog 
 bounded about him, and he also saw in the 
 dead animal the opponent, who, a few hours 
 previously, had left the marks of his paws 
 upon him. Here was a prize for the family ! 
 The Pedlar claimed the skin. The young 
 Brainsoft clapped his hands in ecstacy, and 
 ran to inform his parents of the fortunate
 
 104 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 capture; and old Brainsoft could hardly be 
 prevailed upon to keep his bed, lor, in the im- 
 pulse ot the moment he was almost tempted 
 to run out and view the slaughtered animal. 
 
 The Pedlar and negro were soon both hard 
 at work skinning the bear ; a feat to them 
 easy of accomplishment ; and ere midnight, 
 they had dressed the animal and hung him on 
 some wooden hooks prepared for the purpose. 
 The negro performed afterwards a thousand 
 merry antics ; he danced and laughed, and 
 made faces at the bear, calhng it all manner 
 of endearing names ; whilst Sambo exhibited 
 his pleasure by executing sundry fantastic 
 evolutions, and by howls, growls, and barkings 
 at the carcase of his late formidable foe. 
 
 Although it was so late, the guests were 
 forced to partake of supper in the family 
 apartment. Of course the bear's capture 
 proved a fund of conversation, and gave rise 
 to many a tale of their visitor s experience 
 in backwoods life, with which he greatly
 
 THE PEDLAK. 105 
 
 amused his audience. 
 
 The mother and the kind-hearted Pedlar 
 had some consultation at the bed-side of the 
 sick girl ; and ere the Pedlar retired for the 
 night he had mixed and administered to her 
 a dose of medicine. The Pedlar wrapped his 
 manly figure in his single blanket and laid 
 himself on the floor, with his feet towards a 
 roaring log fire. He endeavoured in vain to 
 follow the example of the negro, who was 
 sound asleep, for a thousand thoughts flitted 
 through his brain, and kept repose at an im- 
 measurable distance. 
 
 The most prominent impression was that 
 of the interesting countenance and the dark 
 blue eyes of the sick maiden. Her image 
 seemed to haunt him, associating itself with a 
 confused remembrance of past events. How- 
 ever, he was at length overpowered from utter 
 weariness, and the good-liearted Pedlar slum- 
 bered.
 
 JOB THE PEDLAH, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Ere the sun had tipped the towering firs 
 with its golden rays, the two visitors had been 
 up and about the farm some hours. The 
 Pedlar saw with satisfaction that the river had 
 not become more swollen since his survey of 
 the previous night, but neither had it abated ; 
 so that his practised eye could perceive very 
 well that all was far from being safe as regarded 
 the future. He had perceived, too, near the 
 log-hut, amongst the soil, small broken shells, 
 and claws of craw-fish — the signs of past 
 inundations. He came therefore to the con- 
 clusion that he would give the English family.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 10? 
 
 on his return to the habitation, the most 
 judicious advice he could think of ; the sub- 
 stance of which was, as may be readily imag- 
 ined,that they should abandon their unfortunate 
 purchase, and leave the locahty, before they 
 were prevented from doing so by the expected 
 inundation. 
 
 The morning was very deceptive. When 
 the Pedlar, with the negro, first emerged from 
 his resting place, he saw that the sky was 
 clear, and not a single cloud tarnished its 
 beauty ; but ere the sun had ridden an hour 
 in the heavens, myriads of clouds suddenly 
 appeared, and rendered the lately promising 
 aspect of the dawn threatening and disagree- 
 able. The night, too, had been exceedingly 
 cold, but the temperature had now gradually 
 become very warm ; and just as the two early 
 stirrers sought the rude habitation, torrents 
 of rain began to deluge the soft earth. All 
 the dark forests moved with the fierce blasts 
 that accompanied the rain, and many a sturdy
 
 10S THE PEDLAR. 
 
 tree, that had braved the fury of a thousand 
 storms, was heard to crash from its roots, and 
 fall, to rot in the slush beneath. 
 
 This was as the Pedlar feared ; and he fore- 
 saw that the troubles of the family were far 
 from being ended. 
 
 It may possibly excite surprise that the 
 Pedlar should have wandered so far out of 
 his way for the purpose of disposing of his 
 wares, or to render assistance to mere strang- 
 ers. The truth is, the curiosity of the traveller 
 had been raised by rumours concerning the 
 family that were freely circulated in the village; 
 in which scandal-loving place, their affairs, real 
 and supposed, were most liberally discussed ; 
 ^i'^and ere the Pedlar had been accosted by 
 the younger Brainsoft, who, dejected and 
 miserable, was at that time returning without 
 having found a doctor, he had made up his 
 mind to wander as far as the solitary farm, as 
 much out of curiosity, it may be supposed, as 
 from the hope of selling the family some of
 
 THE PEDLAR. 109 
 
 his goods. After the conference, however, 
 with the boy, he became actuated solely by 
 feelinta:s of humanity, and an earnest desire to 
 exercise his hobby — medicine — in which he 
 professed to have some skill, and to vanquish 
 his old enemy and opponent, the fever and 
 ague. So, not giving any decided answer to 
 the boy as to whether he might call in upon 
 them or not, no sooner had the poor youth 
 become lost to the Pedlar*s sight in the woods 
 that surrounded the new village, than he sum- 
 moned his man Carolina, and both wended 
 their way to the Britisher's settlement. 
 
 Carolina was a gigantic negro ; really tlie 
 property of the Pedlar, but only a slave in 
 name ; though, in truth, a slave to his master's 
 wishes and desires. He entertained for the 
 Pedlar, indeed, a feeling of the strongest 
 attachment, which many similar circumstances 
 and events of interest in which he had taken 
 a part with his master, had tended to strengthen 
 and cement. The negro would not have ex-
 
 no THE PEDLAR. 
 
 changed his position for that of his kind pro- 
 tector ; and he blessed his good fortune in 
 having given to him the power to please the 
 individual whom he deemed second to none, 
 in manly principles and powers of mind, in 
 the whole world with which he was acquainted. 
 
 Although he had been a long time with his 
 present master, the Pedlar, yet he did not 
 thoroughly know him. There was to the 
 negro, and to all who were acquainted with 
 that singular man something eminently mys- 
 terious in his character. In some quarters of 
 the United States, he received more respect 
 from the people than is generally awarded to 
 one carrying on his somewhat inferior occu- 
 pation ; and although the negro was, as we 
 may say, on terms of close friendship with him 
 yet he never forgot the difference of station, 
 or dared to be familiar. 
 
 There were times when the Pedlar would 
 converse hke a man well educated, and with 
 ease., upon most subjects ; and often, as he
 
 THE PEDLAR. Ill 
 
 wended his lonely way along with his well-tried 
 companion, his sable attendant, would he as- 
 tonish the latter by language harmonious and 
 elegant, which was not unappreciated by him, 
 tor the negro's sense of ideality was of no 
 mean character. The negro looked upon his 
 master as an extraordinary being, whom it 
 would be presumption in him to endeavour to 
 understand. Often, like a minstrel of old, 
 over the sohtary camp-fire, far, far from the 
 haunts of man, in wooded and mountain wild- 
 erness, would he excite in the mind of the 
 poor contented black, the liveliest emotions 
 of wonder ; — for — into the clear starlit air — 
 accompanying himself on a small guitar, which 
 he always carried with him — would he pour 
 forth melodious notes, so sweetly wild, in 
 songs of peaceful home — of stirring campaign 
 — of Indian life in southern climes, amidst 
 nature's wildest luxuriance — that the negro 
 imagined him to be a superior being, and his 
 very life became a part of the wonderful
 
 112 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 Pedlar's. Their pursuit carried them to the 
 rich planters' houses in South Carolina, in 
 which country or state, a sad story says, the 
 Pedlar first took a fancy to the negro, and 
 rescued him from the impending lash. 
 
 How or why he — humble wayfarer as he 
 seemed to be — possessed the power to melt 
 the heart of his obdurate master he was never 
 able to learn ; but the Pedlar carried him 
 away with hhn as his slave, and he would never 
 permit any questions on the subject, nor did 
 he afford the negro any explanation of the 
 means by which this was accompHshed., As 
 far as his new purchaser was concerned — for 
 purchaser he must have been — the negro 
 might have become a free man, for his master 
 journeyed with him through free states; but 
 in his faithful breast was deeply impressed the 
 remembrance of some events that had uncon- 
 sciously exerted a perceptible influence over 
 Jiim, and bound him by the ties of aifection, 
 as well as gratitude, to the fortunes of the
 
 THE PEDLAR. 113 
 
 Pedlar. He remembered the lonely cottage 
 of the Pedlar on the sun-fed mountains of 
 South Carolina. He forgot not, that when 
 s(nzed by that terrible scourge of southern 
 climes, the yellow fever, which had scorched 
 him in its almost always fatal embrace, that 
 ever when he awoke from his delirium, night 
 after night, he observed a form by his bedside 
 which seemed never to leave him. He dream- 
 ed, too during that period, happy dreams ; for 
 his mind was expansive and capacious, and 
 nature had given him the power to form lovely 
 fancies, and enabled him to understand and 
 sufficiently appreciate them. He forgot not a 
 smiling, sunny child, the only one of the Ped- 
 lar, in whom the father's soul was centred, 
 who used to hover about him with requisites 
 to allay his thirst, and comfort his spirit ; and 
 one black night when the tempest howled 
 around, he was conscious that his master still 
 watched by his bedside. He thought, that 
 night, that he was about to die. He had lost
 
 114 THE PEDLAR, 
 
 his speech, but his other senses returned to 
 him. He was not a httle astonished to see 
 that his master, the proud white man, actually 
 cared for him, and looked upon him in the 
 light of a human being. Else, why his strange 
 solicitude ? why his silent tread ? why lay his 
 slave in such a clean and neat apartment, 
 where the windows were covered with blos- 
 soming creepers, and the air scented with the 
 perfume of flowers ? Why were his sheets so 
 purely white ? why his bed so soft ? and why 
 reads that child of the heavenly countenance 
 from the best of books ? and why gazes she 
 so earnestly, and with such sympathy marked 
 in her angel-like features ? And the negro 
 could perceive a little tear or two overflow 
 her long-lashed eyelids, and stream down her 
 delicate cheek. And still, at times, when he 
 thinks of that period, he hears the big bible 
 closed ; he hears the fine sonorous voice of 
 the Pedlar, in the solemn amen ; and he knows 
 there was joy — deep, intense joy — upon th j
 
 THE PEDLAR. 115 
 
 countenances of the parent and the lovely 
 child when he rallied, and the destroyer betook 
 himself from the humble cottage. How he 
 could have thanked them ! His manly breast 
 was bursting to express the overflowings of 
 his spirit ! Oh ! how well, too, he remembered 
 that on the plantation of his late owner, 
 where for years he had worked bone and 
 sinew, how all his fellow slaves, in their se- 
 cret hearts, hated the white man ; how that 
 they w^ere looked upon as a cursed race of 
 tyrants, to be marks for vengeance when the 
 vantage-time should come — if came it ever ! 
 He hears still the curses, deep and irremedia- 
 ble,breathed in the low cabins of the slaves, 
 and he knows what horrors they would com- 
 mit, were the chains forged by the oppressor 
 loosened, and they could concentrate theii 
 strength. And when smarting under \m 
 bondage, with no relaxation to make the 
 chains of slavery tolerable, rumours would 
 at times reach him and his companions in
 
 1 16 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 toil, of festivities amongst the negroes on 
 neighbouring plantations — of happy marriages 
 amongst them — and of blessings invoked upon 
 the heads of their indulgent owners — neither 
 he nor his companions could realize such a 
 state of comparative happiness. Some of the 
 slaves had grown old under one, or a suc- 
 cession of tyrants, and they naturally con- 
 ceived that all masters were, in character, the 
 same. 
 
 Such recollections and thoughts as these 
 at that time, when too feeble to speak, entered 
 the mind of the negro. He thanked heaven, 
 that by good fortune, and by stealth, he had 
 gained some knowledge of reading ; and that 
 he w^as rescued from such a life of degrading 
 bondage by the opportune arrival of the Ped- 
 lar at his master's plantation. He rejoiced 
 that he had been taught to read from that 
 blessed book, the Bible — a torn and tattered 
 one, — which he had long possessed. In secret, 
 he prayed for knowledge ; and wondered at
 
 THE pedlar; 117 
 
 the infinite goodness of that divine spirit, he 
 read of, that walked in all charity and good- 
 will amongst the sons of men, and could not 
 but contrast it with the conduct of those who 
 held him in bondage. 
 
 He forgot not any of these things ; still 
 less did he forget what afterwards happened, 
 when he was enabled by Providence, to alle- 
 viate the quick coming sorrows of his noble 
 master. 
 
 We have said, — and we are bound to digress 
 a httle more, — that together with the Pedlar, 
 watching at the bedside of the negro, during 
 his illness, was an angel girl ; oh ! of such a 
 sunny countenance ; — the very personification 
 of what we might suppose young angels are ; 
 a kind of being made up of flowers and sun- 
 shine ; whose purity nothing that ever tainted 
 human nature could ever sully ; with which 
 nothing mean, or even selfish could have 
 affinity. Her countenance was always sweet ; 
 and when she clasped her little white hanils
 
 118 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 as she knelt on her parents' knee, to breathe 
 her nightly prayer, and an old woman, whose 
 age numbered seventy winters looked on, — 
 all love and solicitude, — the negro, as he 
 witnessed the interesting scene, would some- 
 times be led to imagine by what sort of beings 
 heaven might be inhabited. 
 
 Amid such a scene of happiness, how could 
 the Pedlar be ever sad or sorrowful ! Yet, 
 notwithstanding his sad expression of count- 
 enance, his eyes would beam with such an 
 intense fondness for his child, that the negro 
 wondered how he could ever part from her, 
 even to pursue his avocations. Nor could he 
 have done so, but that he had the consolation 
 of knowing she was in the care of one who 
 was fondly attached to her — the faithful old 
 nurse, who had not only reared the tender 
 blossom from its earliest infancy, but had 
 nursed the father himself when a child. She 
 was indeed a faithful creature, and fondly at- 
 tached to her httle charge ; and she lamented
 
 THE PEDLAR. 119 
 
 that each day was bringing her more speedily 
 to her grave, for she was loth to part with the 
 child, or with her father, for whom she en- 
 tertained the greatest reverence and respect. 
 How the soul of that poor, old, faithful crea- 
 ture was filled with love for that parent and 
 his offspring ! and, when she bore the smiling 
 infant of scarce nine summers to her little 
 bed, she would clasp her with rapture to her 
 bosom, and pray for a thousand blessings on 
 her head. There was another too, that after 
 the door of the sleeping room of the nurse 
 and child was shut, would slowly crawl, with 
 ears erect, ready to catch the slightest sus- 
 picious sound, and hstening there, as if to 
 ascertain if all were right within, would then 
 stretch himself at full length, and with 
 nose on his paws, prepare for repose. This 
 trusty friend and protector of the child was 
 Sambo, the large Newfoundland dog, — the 
 ever watchful guardian of the Pedlar's cot- 
 tage.
 
 120 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 Carolina, from the intercourse he had with 
 his master in their travels, discovered the fact 
 thrit he was not altogether happy in his mind. 
 He WHS then known only as a Pedlar, — though 
 none appeared to know from whence he came. 
 He often mnrmured, and sighed in unintelli- 
 gible words, for which he would again as 
 quickly rebuke himself. The only times he 
 seemed to lose his look of grief during his 
 wanderins:s, were when after he had done 
 sufficient business for the day (though indeed 
 he lived easier than his profession would have 
 permitted, and this circumstance added to the 
 mystery that enveloped portions of his char- 
 acter and movements), he would seat himself 
 in some pleasant spot, amid the luxuriant 
 scenery of South Carolina, and transfer the 
 gorgeous objects that stretched around to his 
 sketch book ; for amongst his numerous 
 qualifications he was an excellent artist. He 
 appeared to take great delight in that inter- 
 esting accomplishment, and when he stopped
 
 THE PEDLAR. 121 
 
 at the houses of the rich planters, the sketches 
 of the handsome Pedlar were the delight of 
 old and young ; and in his book were the de- 
 lineations of many different scenes taken 
 not only in various parts of the Union, but 
 also in transatlantic regions. So gentle and 
 well-bred were the manners of the Pedlar 
 thought to be by the gentry, that they never 
 deemed it any condescension to request him 
 to take his seat at the family board ; and until 
 he forgot himself, — for he invariably endea- 
 voured in society, to speak as if he had been 
 born — not amongst the low, but amongst the 
 poor of America ; and with a nasal twang too 
 which was far from being natural to him, — lie 
 would speak as became a better sort of Pedlar ; 
 but accident and circumstance would fre- 
 quently cause him to lay aside his assumea 
 character, and to display his real powers. 
 Every congenial family he chanced to visit 
 would forget a pedlar sat with them ; for from 
 his lips flowed words of eloquence, which
 
 122 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 could not fail to astonish his listeners. He 
 would give such interesting descriptions 
 of foreign travel ; would display such know- 
 ledge of the world in all its various phases ; 
 and withal such diversified talents, that, though 
 forbearing to ask him too many questions, all 
 imagined him some one born to better things ; 
 and the slight shade of sadness that at times 
 crossed his features, when discoursing of par- 
 ticular places, threw about him the character 
 of mystery which he had acquired. When 
 also, at their request, he strung his guitar, and 
 sang, to his startled audience, songs, until 
 then foreign to their ears, yet withal won- 
 drously touching both in melody and language, 
 many a fair listener would have left her home 
 to have gone forth with that strange wanderer, 
 in weal and woe ; but no congenial fire ever 
 glanced in return from his fine eyes. Possessed 
 of the most dehghtful powers and accomphsh- 
 ments, he was nevertheless an isolated being, 
 expending his caresses upon one only, — and
 
 THE PEDLAR. 123 
 
 that one his soul's idol — his very life, — the 
 bright child of his early love. 
 
 She ever awaited his return with eagerness ; 
 looking out from the orange-flowered window 
 for his wished-for approach ; and would run, 
 fast as her tiny feet would carry her, to wel- 
 come him to his humble home. With words 
 too that sank into his heart, she would exclaim, 
 '' Oh ! Father, dear father ! I'm so happy you 
 have come back ! " and would ask if he had 
 any more sketches for her to copy. 
 
 The father was an enthusiastic lover of na- 
 ture. The warring of the elements was music 
 to his well-tuned ear. His own songs too 
 were delightful to him. The poems he knew 
 and oft repeated in the solitudes, were full of 
 music to his soul ; but all — all these pleasur- 
 able emotions palled before the voice of his 
 darling child ; for her sensible prattle was to 
 him, of all music, the sweetest, and wherever 
 he lingered in his wanderings, he was haunted 
 with the recollection of its tones, and longed
 
 124 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 to hear them repeated. His love of that 
 sweet child was felt by him, at times, to be a 
 sin. She was his idol. He knew that he did 
 not love her more than she deserved ; yet he 
 was conscious that he loved her far too much. 
 Ought not the Pedlar to have been a hap- 
 py man, possessing as he did, in return for his 
 deep affection, the all-absorbing love of his 
 young artless offspring ? He had, it is true, 
 like many others, been bereft of manifold 
 blessings, but how many had he still left him ? 
 Alas ! the human heart is seldom contented, 
 even amid the choicest gifts of Providence !
 
 THE PEDLAR. 125 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The negro, as we have said, loved his mas- 
 ter. And had he not reason to love him ? 
 Kindness to an inferior, judiciously bestowed, 
 without sacrifice of self-respect, seldom fails 
 to produce esteem and love. Sorrow, too, 
 experienced with those whom we regard, is a 
 never-failing source of growing and continued 
 mutual interest. During those seasons of ad- 
 versity, associations are gathered and treasured 
 up, which produce impressions on the stoutest 
 hearts, creating sympathies which, unite them 
 in the strongest bonds of attachment. 
 
 Many parts of the Pedlar's history were* 
 never known to Carolina, nor did that indivi-
 
 126 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 dual much concern himself about what his 
 master had originally been, or from what 
 stock he had sprung. Little was known about 
 him in that beautiful land where he had taken 
 up his abode, except that he had bargained 
 and paid for the little cottage which sheltered 
 the object of his affections — his darling child, 
 who, though rarely seen by strangers, was 
 reported to be so beautiful, that many it was 
 said had wandered far to catch a sight of this 
 little spirit of the woods, who at one time was 
 seen sporting amongst the flowers that skirted 
 the cottage, and at another seated at a little 
 window busied in painting and copying her 
 lather's sketches, which she coloured with 
 marvellous taste and skill. And when the 
 stars tenanted the firmament, and the bright 
 moon shone on the luxuriant savannas and 
 shady groves, an infant voice might be heard 
 singing to a lute whose strings were exquisitely 
 touched, songs that thrilled through the lis- 
 tener's heart. Seldom had strangers holden
 
 THE PEDLAR. 127 
 
 intercourse with the fair one. The sturdy 
 Pedlar was known to be jealous of his little 
 child. When strangers asked of her he would 
 evade the question, and a shade of displeasure 
 would cross his countenance. They therefore 
 gave up their inquiries, and curiosity became 
 redoubled, until at length it died away un- 
 satiated. 
 
 If the negro loved his master with a devo- 
 tion rarely met with in a servant ; with a sin- 
 cerity rarely equalled ; with a disinterestedness 
 seldom experienced ; this could hardly be 
 compared with his adoration of that little 
 being, who caressed and played with him in 
 the sunshine — who would read him many a 
 lisping sermon — and recount tales of wonder 
 and mystery, which made his woolly hair al- 
 most stand on end with awe and admiration. 
 Sambo, the petted dog, and he, were rivals for 
 that bright one's love ; and when returning 
 from his travels with his master, as earnestly 
 as did the doting parent, would Carolina lool^
 
 128 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 for her appearance from out of the blossom- 
 covered porch of the miniature mansion. Her 
 caress, invariably given to him after she had 
 bestowed her never-failing one upon her father, 
 was anticipated by the negro with a bounding 
 heart ; and Sambo and he displayed their 
 emotions of joyousness by similar exhibitions 
 of boisterous delight. In the peaceful eve- 
 nings, too, when the father was busy conning 
 over books of deep science unintelligible to 
 Carolina, Maude — for that was the child's 
 name — would read to him great and startling 
 truths from the good book, which made him 
 more and more prize the old torn one that had 
 ever been his companion since he first learnt 
 to read. He, in return, would recount to her 
 fearful scenes in which he had been an actor 
 in his native land, ere he was captured by the 
 slave seekers ; his sufferings too, on a voyage 
 protracted and dreadful, and during long years 
 of slavery under the most absolute tyranny. 
 One night an incident disturbed the serenity
 
 THE PEDLAR. 129 
 
 of the inmates of the cottage and produced 
 the most lamentable consequences. On that 
 evening the Pedlar, after his usual meal, had 
 seated himself, as was his custom, to read, 
 whilst his daughter sat upon the lap of the 
 aged nurse, hstening to a tale that the negro 
 was recounting to the little interested creature 
 of his life in Africa. Ever and anon she would 
 clasp her little hands, the big tears rolling 
 down her lily-like cheeks, — for the negro's 
 tale was pitiful. 
 
 '' Oh ! " said she loudly and vehemently, 
 the light from her dark eyes flashing full into 
 the face of the tale-teller, who was himself 
 almost carried away by the associations his 
 relation called up ; — " had you then a mother, 
 who loved you ? Oh ! it was fearful ! — She 
 was torn from you by the cruel slave-drivers, 
 and they took her away from your father, — 
 and she died ! and she loved your father so 
 much — dear, dear ! it must have been a fright- 
 ful scene.
 
 130 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 '' Merciful Heaven ! " shrieked the Pedlar, 
 rising from his chair, and closing his book 
 forcibly, whilst his features became, to the 
 consternation of the negro, deadly pale. 
 
 '' Father ! dear father ! " screamed the child 
 hastily, getting off the nurse's knee to go up 
 to him, whilst fear spread over her count- 
 enance. The nurse clasped her hands in 
 terror, and the negro was so startled that he 
 fell from the stool on which he had been sit- 
 ting, whilst relating his terrible tale. 
 
 The door was opened hurriedly by the Ped- 
 lar, and breathless he ran into the garden, and 
 flew like the wind in the direction of a wood 
 that skirted his grounds. 
 
 The nurse caught hold of the child, who 
 cried, " Caro Caro, — follow him. " 
 
 The negro waited for no further entreaty, 
 but bounded over fence after fence in the di- 
 rection the Pedlar had taken. 
 
 It was a briUiant moonlight night, so that 
 the negro soon beheld the object of his search
 
 THE PEDLAR. 131 
 
 hastening on through groves of luxuriant 
 trees. He had nearly reached the frantic man, 
 when the Pedlar turned round. The pale 
 moonbeams falling on his face disclosed his 
 features stern in their expression, and strangely 
 altered from their usually placid state of re- 
 pose 
 
 " Keep off, sir," he thundered in tones that 
 echoed afar. 
 
 The negro stopped dismayed. 
 
 The strongly-excited man fell upon his 
 knees and clasped his hands tightly together. 
 The wind played with his thick curls, and the 
 scene around was so light that Carolina plainly 
 saw his lips move as if in prayer, though no 
 utterance came forth. 
 
 The Pedlar knelt ; ah ! upon what spot ? 
 A sacred one to him ; unknown even to his 
 child ; — known only to the aged nurse, and to 
 the stars, and the moon that shone above so 
 placidly. 
 
 The spot on which he knelt was a little
 
 132 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 grass-grown mound, overspread with a pro- 
 fusion of small flowers ; and over it drooped 
 a single mournful looking tree. 
 
 How sorrowfully the wind sounded all at 
 once ! 
 
 '' Nurse^ where is my father ? I will seek 
 him/' exclaimed the child, distractedly to the 
 old lady, who kept tight hold of one of her 
 little hands. 
 
 '' Maude, child, he will return directly," she 
 answered, trembling with emotion she could 
 not conceal. 
 
 Take me to him, take me to him," exclaimed 
 the child " I have never seen my dear father 
 so before ; oh ! it was frightful ; let me go 
 nurse, or I shall hate you." 
 
 "" Child," said the nurse passionately, ''do 
 I not love thee, and thy father, aye more than 
 my own life ; more than I did my own oif- 
 spring, the precious treasure of a beloved 
 husband, both long since dead. " 
 
 *' Take me to my father, where is he gone"?
 
 THE PEDLAR. 133 
 
 said the child with frightful calmness. 
 
 The old lady burst into tears ; for a moment 
 she was speechless. At length she hastily 
 cried, kissing the little one, *' Maude, must I 
 tell thee, poor, poor, darling child," she ut- 
 tered in low tones, clasping her to her bosom ; 
 " he is at the grave of thy mother ! look ! " 
 and she led the astonished child to the door, 
 saying with much emotion, "' See you yon soli- 
 tary willow near that clump of lime trees ? 
 See, he prays ! " 
 
 "Oh! my poor father ! " cried the afflicted 
 child ; " take me to him ! take me to him ! 
 let me too kneel on my mother's grave ; I 
 shall comfort him, take me dear nurse ; did — 
 did she die here ? did she live here ? " 
 
 " Child, question me not of it ; for my life 
 I dare not take you." 
 
 " Give me my hat, then, and I will go alone ; 
 I will not see him ji^rieved, and I not share it." 
 
 "Well, if you Mill it, it must be so," said 
 the nurse feariuc: to do as lier little mistress
 
 134 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 desired^ yet impelled instinctively to obey her. 
 As she reached the child's hat she muttered, 
 " She is an angel, and only fit for the abode 
 of angels. I have watched her well, and I 
 fear she will not be long with us. Poor child !'^ 
 
 So the affectionate daughter dragged the 
 nurse along with her over the dewy fields, 
 through the thick luxuriant groves of southern 
 foliage, till she reached the mound, — the grave 
 of her mother whose loss she was too young 
 to deplore. 
 
 The agonized man heard footsteps, and 
 cried in terrible tones, '* Come no one near ; 
 dare — dare not to approach this sacred spot. " 
 But what will not a fond child brave % She 
 flew to her father, and entwined her arms 
 about his neck ere he could prevent her, crying 
 in piercing tones, " My father ! my dear, dear 
 father ! your little daughter would console 
 you for her mother's loss ; kiss, me father, 
 dear, dear father." 
 
 A moment more, and sobs — deep from the
 
 THE PEDLAR. 135 
 
 fount of life — broke from the strong man, and 
 he clasped convulsively the little tender being 
 to his breast, again and again kissing her. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried he, '' 'tis blasphemy that I 
 should repine, whilst I have you, my little 
 Maude, left me by Providence ; the relic, the 
 pledge of such a love as the stars ne'er looked 
 on before ! Oh ! child, had you known her ! 
 — and what she suffered for my love ! Oh ! 
 heavens ! pardon me ! pardon me ! " he cried 
 hysterically (as if a foreboding of punishment 
 for his unthankfulness crossed his mind) — 
 that I should repine for my beloved wife, — 
 the hope of my youth, when I have her little 
 one left me. Forgive me ! Oh preserve my 
 child, take not her from me too ! " 
 
 As he held her at arm's length from him, 
 the negro and nurse came up to soothe their 
 master. The old lady caught the little one in 
 her arms and wrapt her in her shawl, for the 
 night winds blew chilly. Aye, and they blew 
 mournfully too, — as if envying the love of the
 
 136 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 strong man for his child, as if rebuking him 
 for so much idolatry ; as if they would bear 
 her spirit from him, had they the power. 
 
 "Carolina/' said the Pedlar, rising, *' hold 
 my arm." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, massa," sobbed the negro, " oh ! 
 me so berry sorry. " 
 
 '' Silence ! " returned the Pedlar. 
 
 Clouds made their way from the horizon, 
 and darkened the face of earth. 
 
 ****** 
 
 •^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 A few weeks after the poor father was bit- 
 terly punished for his idolatry. On the night 
 that he had gone forth to wet his youthful 
 wife's grave with his tears, his precious child 
 took cold ; and she not long after, slept by 
 her mother's side, — under the solitary tree ; 
 in the same coffin with her who survived not 
 her loss a day, — the faithful nurse ! 
 
 We will draw a curtain over the father's
 
 THE PEDLAR. 137 
 
 desolation. No earthly grief ever exceeded 
 it in intensity. 
 
 Some months afterwards the cottage began 
 to fall to decay. The owner and his slave 
 had gone ; none knew whither. He had 
 shunned all conversation with any except his 
 negro ever after his fearful bereavement ; and 
 he knew not, wherever he was journeying, 
 that hundreds far and wide visited his aband- 
 oned cottage, bringing flowers to strew upon 
 the grave of the beautiful infant child, and 
 the mother, reputed so lovely — though almost 
 a stranger to any in that locality. 
 
 We have said that sympathy of feehng rivets 
 the affections. Sorrow and joy mutually 
 shared, are the storers up of mutual associa- 
 tions ; and we may understand why the negro 
 so loved his master, and why he regarded the 
 negro with an affectionate interest ; and what 
 the Pedlar meant, when, in answer to a quest- 
 ion from his hostess, he replied, " I have hee7i 
 a sufferer,''
 
 138 THE PEDLAR, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 We owe the reader an apology for our some- 
 what long digression from the main story ; yet 
 such was absolutely necessary to account for 
 what may already to the family of the Brain- 
 softs have appeared strange in the Pedlar's 
 character ; and as most Americans, both abol- 
 itionists and others, seem to have an aversion 
 to come into too close contact with a coloured 
 man, whether freeman, or slave, the digression 
 aforesaid will perhaps enable us to understand 
 the exception in the case of our worthy friend 
 the Pedlar. 
 
 Poor Mr. Brainsoft found to his utter aston- 
 ishment, on the morning following the eve of
 
 THE PEDLAR. 139 
 
 the singular bear capture, that he awoke 
 considerably refreshed, and free from much 
 symptoms of his disease. It was somewhat 
 different with his daughter ; as the mother 
 saw with increased and painful anxiety, that 
 she was weaker ; her skin was very hot and 
 dry ; and^she expressed herself as being al- 
 most exhausted. 
 
 To add to family troubles too, George began 
 to shew signs of a severe attack, and could 
 not rise in his bed. He was seized with fear- 
 ful pains in his right side, so that he could 
 barely move. He bore it though with forti- 
 tude and resignation ; and as he had always 
 been religiously incHned, he did not murmur 
 in the slightest degree. All his expressoins of 
 pain were on account of his mother, whom he 
 saw looking so careworn and anxious. Alter 
 the family apartment was put in order, by the 
 aid of the children, and the other lad, it was 
 signified to the visitor that breakfast would 
 soon be ready. The Pedlar had been engaged
 
 140 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 some half-hour or so in mixing medicine for 
 the sick, and had sent Carohna to the village 
 on an errand. 
 
 The Pedlar entered the family room soon 
 after, through which — the windows being all 
 open — the breath of heaven freely circulated. 
 With the eyes of a master in the art in which 
 he professed to be skilled, he observed with a 
 single glance the condition of his patients, and 
 with his nasal twang, said, as he squeezed the 
 hand of the father, — 
 
 "Wall! Mr. Brain-soft," leisurely dividing 
 the syllables of that unfortunately appropriate 
 cognomen, — and laying particular emphasis on 
 the last one ; Wall, my fine Britisher, how's 
 the old enemy ? — taken flight to other diggins, 
 I can wall perceive. Now just swallow this 
 dose, it'll have a wonderful effect; and to- 
 morrow you'll be ready for hard work. " 
 
 " Bless me, sir ! Am I indeed to drink that, 
 sir ? You're very kind to take so much trouble, 
 indeed you are ; but shan't I do without taking
 
 THE PEDLAR 141 
 
 that terrible looking stuff ? " 
 
 " I guess not," returned the doctor, holding 
 forth for the acceptance of the sick man a 
 tumbler containing rather a thickish yellow- 
 looking draught. 
 
 " Bless me ! bless me ! do you really think 
 it necessary ? I can assure you I should much 
 prefer a piece of the bear's ham, with a good 
 cup of coffee, and some hot buttered toast. " 
 
 '' All that in good time, stranger," replied 
 the administerer of doses, and sworn enemy 
 to the fever and ague ; "I calculate, Mr. Brain- 
 soft, if you dont imbibe this, the old enemy'll 
 lay his cold icy digits on you again, and that 
 right soon, I guess. Come toss it off like a 
 man. Oh, that's it. I reckon it's warming, 
 aint it ? ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Bless me ! " exclaimed Brainsoft, who hav- 
 ing seen that opposition to the will of the 
 determined looking; doctor would be of no 
 avail, had put the sweet-looking beverage to 
 his hps, and after sundry efforts, contrived to
 
 142 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 toss it down, — returning the glass to the smil- 
 ing man of medicine, who seemed by the 
 droll expression of his visage, to enjoy the 
 wry faces made by the luckless imbiber. 
 
 " Look to poor Annie, sir, if you please : 
 I fear she's no better ; " said he. 
 
 '' And dose her too, aye ? " returned the 
 physician. 
 
 '' Oh ! do anything to cure my poor child ; 
 and pray, sir, if I may ask you, will you stay 
 as our guest a day or two ? any return I can 
 make " — 
 
 '* ril stay as long as I can, " interrupted the 
 Pedlar in a marked manner; ^^but that, I'm 
 afraid, won't be long nohow neither ; yet it 
 may still be as long as you may wish me ; so 
 make yourself easy ; you've taken rather a 
 sharp dose ; you shall have the chicken fixins 
 in an hour, so go to roost like ye did yesterday. 
 And now I'll attend to the youngster ; come 
 Brainsoft," continued he laughingly, "don't 
 irritate my dander for fear I should expend
 
 THE PEDLAR. 143 
 
 a little of my superfluous strength on you ; " 
 as the gentleman alluded to, feehng rather 
 strong and hungry, was about sitting up in his 
 bed. 
 
 " Bless me, how nice that ham smells ! " he 
 said, as the scent of what the mother was pre- 
 paring for breakfast entered the room ; but 
 seeing the Pedlar's look of annoyance, the 
 poor man, fancying himself able to cut down 
 an oak tree with one blow of his axe, grum- 
 blingly did as he was ordered, and pulled the 
 bed clothes up to his nose ; which article, 
 being rather conspicuous from its red hue and 
 size, just appeared visible, being all that was 
 seen of the hungry patient. 
 
 " Shut the windows, " said the Pedhir to 
 Henry Brainsoft. '' Here's a mighty terrible 
 storm coming on, and too much draught will 
 not benefit my patients. " 
 
 Outside the solitary log house, the elements 
 were warring at a fearful rate ; the roaring of 
 the river blending with them, and resounding:
 
 144 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 through the dwelhng. Soon too, the deluging 
 rain made inroads through the numerous crev- 
 ices between the logs that surrounded the 
 building ; and the water trickled in streams 
 about the flooring. Old clothes and pieces of 
 straw were brought and stuffed in, but all was 
 barely sufficient to keep it out. Sambo, the 
 trusty guardian of the Pedlar, walked to and 
 fro, continually peering out of the cracks of 
 the plank-made door, as if in disapproval of 
 the inroads the rain was making, and the 
 noise occasioned by the fierce gusts of wind 
 without. 
 
 The Pedlar felt much anxiety regarding the 
 continued rain, which, when he looked forth, 
 he found promised no abatement. Knowing 
 too, what risk the family ran from its con- 
 tinuance, — though they were quite innocent 
 of their dangerous vicinity to the river, — which 
 they were not aware, flooded the country for 
 many miles round, almost every spring, — he 
 could hardly control his uneasiness ; but seeing
 
 THE PEDLAR 145 
 
 no use in vainly alarming the inmates of the 
 cottage, who were in so melancholy a situa- 
 tion, he forbore to mention his fears. So 
 with these thoughts agitating his mind, he 
 went up to the couch of the young female who 
 was lying still, with her large dark eyes turned 
 towards the bed-side of her father. Her mo- 
 ther had informed her of all particulars re- 
 garding the Pedlar's timely visit. When 
 first she was told of his arrival, her modesty 
 suffered a wound, and her pride revolted at 
 the thought of a stranger — perhaps an unfeel- 
 ing intrusive one — seeing their poverty. 
 
 Alas ! poor child ! she felt the sad isolation 
 of herself and family more than the rest of 
 them, as their feelings had been blunted in 
 their own land by trouble and oppression ; but 
 she had just been taken from the side of an 
 affectionate aunt, w^ho had brought her up 
 from childhood, with the intention of be- 
 queathing her the whole of her large funded 
 property, and had been educated by the first 
 
 H
 
 146 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 masters, under the eye of that doting relation. 
 Seldom seeing her parents, from her goodness 
 of disposition, she nevertheless retained a fond 
 affection for them both. Never would that 
 aunt, the sister of her mother, see the father, 
 as she looked upon him, (poor good natured 
 man !) as an intruder into her highly respect- 
 able family ; her sister having made with him 
 a cladestine match ; leaving well-bred gentle- 
 men who had sought her hand chagrined to 
 find that she had overlooked the qualities of 
 birth and fortune, and had run away with a 
 publican's son. 
 
 Annie, who had never been allowed to 
 bear the name of Brainsoft, had assumed that 
 of her maiden aunt, which was at least some- 
 what more euphonious, namely, that of Bur- 
 lington. She was fostered in the lap of luxury, 
 though unspoiled by its fascinations. She ad- 
 vanced towards womanhood improved not 
 only in mind, but in sweetness of disposition, 
 highly accomplished, unsuspicious, confiding,
 
 THE PEDLAR. 147 
 
 and tender-hearted. Often and often had 
 her aunt told her, that when she departed 
 this life, all she possessed would become hers ; 
 and she told her too, how to make use of it ; 
 and advised her in every way for her future 
 good ; but without, during all this period, 
 ever having the resolution, or perhaps, being 
 too idle, to make any immediate provision for 
 her darling, as she termed her. 
 
 Alas ! the mutability of human affairs ! 
 After, having for long years, lavished her 
 fondness on this innocent and confidinsf be- 
 ing, whom she publicly professed to love, 
 whom, when an infant, she had dandled on 
 her knee, and whose infantine caresses she 
 seemed so much to value, after educating the 
 child, and rendering her fit to fill a very 
 superior station, and promising^ to her niece 
 the wealth necessary to support it, she met 
 with a flattering and insidious person, who 
 artfully insinuated himself into her favour, 
 and without consulting her niece, — knowing
 
 148 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 in her secret heart that, under all circum- 
 stances, the act was one to be ashamed of — 
 she introduced to her home this heartless 
 man as her husband, and the necessary con- 
 sequences of such a proceeding followed. 
 
 Jealousies, bitterness, and hatred were pro- 
 voked ; and the darling of the aunt — the 
 promised inheritor of the property — was 
 turned away from her long cherished home, 
 and sent back to her parents — with an un- 
 just and impertinent letter ! 
 
 The parents, whatever might be their sta- 
 tion, loved their child, and they received her 
 with a heartfelt welcome, though their feel- 
 ings received a shock from which they were 
 some time rallying. 
 
 What a fearful situation for one so tenderly 
 nurtured ! But strange to say, this reverse 
 had occasioned in her mind no feeling of 
 hatred towards that relation who had so 
 cruelly deceived her. She had loved her 
 aunt with the most disinterested affection.
 
 THE PEDLAR 149 
 
 She hardly thought of her own loss; but 
 meeting with a welcome from her parents, 
 and cherishing the most tender consideration 
 for her brothers and little sisters, ere she 
 left England, she had banished all regret 
 from her mind, and endeavoured to do her 
 best to make all around her happy. And 
 now when the individual she looked upon 
 as the doctor, approached her bedside with 
 anxiety written upon his countenance, her 
 first words were not a reply to his kind 
 enquiries concerning the state of her health, 
 but an entreaty in low earnest tones, that he 
 would inform her whether her father and 
 brother were going on favourably. 
 
 The Pedlar gazed upon the unselfish one 
 with an unaccountable expression, and tre- 
 mulously answered her, though he hardly knew 
 the substance of his own reply ; — 
 
 ''Your father, Miss — Miss; (Heavens! how 
 like!" he whispered to himself,) — is ''hearty/' 
 
 He assumed his nasal twang, which he
 
 150 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 seemed easily to drop, for his first words 
 were spoken in a strong tone and merrily ;— 
 *' the medicine I administered to him did 
 him much good ; terrible good, Miss ; and 
 your brother I have not yet seen." 
 
 *' Oh ! pray sir, attend to him," said the 
 girl ; " then return to me; I heard him groan 
 heavily in the night, and I fear he is very 
 ill." 
 
 '* I will," said the Pedlar affected, still scan- 
 ning her features, and whispering to himself ; 
 '* No ; it cannot be! — and yet those tender 
 eyes ! Permit me," he continued, " Ma'am, 
 just allow me to feel that are pulse of 
 yours." 
 
 '* Oh ! I pray you, dear sir," she faintly 
 answered, feebly pulling down the bed-clothes 
 about her neck, '^ to go first to my poor bro- 
 ther, he may be exceedingly ill, and I — ^I am 
 not so bad." 
 
 Seeing it was impossible to combat with such 
 unselfishness, he hastilv arose from his chair.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 151 
 
 *' It seems," whispered he inaudibly, as he 
 walked towards the bed of the sick boy, '' that 
 my recollections will never die. It cannot be ! 
 She was but a child ; yet — she would not be 
 so now ; — ^but, — ridiculous, her name is Brain- 
 soft." 
 
 So he looked steadfastly upon George, who 
 lay in his bed, unable to move, racked with 
 pain, although he would not express it. 
 
 " My heavens !" said the Pedlar, feeling his 
 pulse and looking at his tongue, you are ill in- 
 deed ! Turn on your side, my boy, you'll lay 
 more comfortable, I guess. What ! can't you 
 move ? Pain ? eh ?" 
 
 "Speak softly," said the boy, fearing his 
 sister might overhear him, and knowing any 
 shock would be injurious to her. 
 
 " Where, boy ? On the right side, eh ? 
 Much? Can't you move? Keep still, poor 
 lad ! you shall have some hot fomentations. 
 This is unfortunate indeed !" 
 
 All this time the eves of the sister were
 
 152 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 upon them. She did not hear what was going 
 on, and the anxious Pedlar turned his back 
 upon her to prevent her seeing her brother's 
 face. The Pedlar having made himself ac- 
 quainted with the symptoms of the increased 
 disorder, left his bedside, begging of him not 
 to express his pain for his sister's sake, if pos- 
 sible, and said he would attend immediately to 
 his case. 
 
 " How is he, sir ?" said the sister anxiously. 
 
 "I'm about prescribing a trifling dose for 
 him. Miss," he said evasively, avoiding her 
 gaze. " Pray," said he quietly, let me feel 
 your pulse." 
 
 She put out her shrunken arm. He counted 
 her pulse with his trembling hand, and found 
 that she was in a fearful and precarious state ; 
 but, however, detecting that she possessed a 
 good constitution, he hoped to bring her 
 round. 
 
 " Some prized relic of a dear friend ?" said 
 the Pedlar, as he caught sight of a locket
 
 THE PEDLAR. 153 
 
 which hung upon her neck, and lay outside 
 upon the bed-clothes. 
 
 " Yes, sir, it is. Oh ! of the dearest, 
 kindest, truest friend I ever had. Poor sweet 
 girl ! Oh ! that I could hear from her !" 
 
 The Pedlar watched her countenance, as she 
 uttered these words, which, though in low 
 tones, were full of hearty enthusiasm. She 
 was very lovely to look upon, and her extreme 
 paleness rendered her aspect almost etherial. 
 Her expressive eyes, veiled by immense silken 
 lashes, seemed too large for her face ; but it 
 was only because they retained their original 
 beauty, whilst her other features had become 
 somewhat attenuated. Her hair, long and 
 flowing, fell loosely about her neck, and formed 
 a strong contrast to her delicate complexion. 
 Something about her rivetted the gaze of the 
 Pedlar, and when she smiled, as she uttered 
 the following words, opening one side of the 
 double locket, in which was braided some beau- 
 tiful brown hair, his attention was absorbed. He 
 looked from her to the hair ; whilst his fticc
 
 154 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 became pale, as from some stirriiig recollec- 
 tion, — yet he felt himself somewhat ashamed 
 at this display of emotion, which, in this in- 
 stance, he thought must be unwarranted. 
 
 '^ Oh ! 'tis beautiful hair ! I cut it from 
 her lovely head the night before her bridal 
 morn ; and then she scolded me for stealing 
 her best back ringlet, as she said she had in- 
 tended it for Mm.'' 
 
 " Ah !" said the Pedlar, — " and where, 
 where did this friend go to ? was she married? 
 — and to whom ?" 
 
 " Oh ! to the kindest, sweetest, best of 
 men ; but his father cruelly disowned him, 
 when he refused the lady he himself had 
 chosen for him ; and they went away just after 
 their dear babe was born. Oh ! it was such a 
 winning little thing ! I did love it so ! It was 
 so like him too ! and I liked it for his sake. I 
 felt that I could have loved that man." 
 
 " Where did they go to ?" said the Pedlar, 
 breathless, — " for heaven's sake ! where. 
 
 Annie gazed on him wonderinglv, and
 
 THE PEDLAR. 155 
 
 thought there was something in the face of the 
 kind-hearted wanderer that was familiar to 
 her; but such ideas were speedily chased 
 away. 
 
 " And look at her face too," she continued 
 calmly — '' dear one that she was, I have it 
 here." 
 
 The Pedlar was disturbed, his hands were 
 clenched with emotion. 
 
 " She gave it me on the wedding-day, unbe- 
 known to him ; and I have treasured it as my 
 life ; and you, sir, if you admire a beautiful 
 face, will not fail to say this is one." 
 
 She opened the other side of the locket, and 
 there revealed to the eyes of the visitor, a face 
 of incomparable beauty, and with an almost 
 infantine expression of countenance. 
 
 The veins of the Pedlar's forehead became 
 swollen as he clutched the locket. 
 
 '' Oh ! heaven !" he cried, " my wife ! — my 
 wife ! — my wife !" 
 
 *'Ah!" said Annie aloud," it is he! Ed-
 
 156 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 mund Clavering ! Oh ! where, is she ? my 
 darling' Maude, and the baby? Brino^ them 
 both — both to me, let me clasp the little thing 
 in my arms." 
 
 Old Brainsoft who had been dosing, awoke 
 startled, whilst the Pedlar writhed in mortal 
 agony with the revived recollections of his 
 fearful bereavement, for seldom man had loved 
 as he had loved. 
 
 He clasped his forehead with his hands, and 
 murmured, *' They sleep ; they sleep ; ask me 
 no more I pray you. But who," said he, in a 
 fearful whisper, *' art thou !" straining his 
 eyes upon the girl, almost with displeasure 
 marking his visage, rendered awful by his now 
 extreme paleness. 
 
 "• I, — if you are he, — I am your own little 
 Annie Burlington, but where are they ?" 
 
 " Oh ! ask me not I pray you. They sleep, 
 I said, — they sleep for ever !" and unable to 
 bear more, he opened the door and went out 
 into the storm.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 157 
 
 "How changed, poor man !" muttered Annie 
 Burlington, as she sank back on her pillow, 
 full of anxiety for him she had known in bet- 
 ter times. Yet her spirit sank within her 
 when she recalled and thought of his answer 
 to her inquiries for his wife and babe. 
 
 " My child," said the father alarmed, half 
 asleep, and half awake, *' what's all this? 
 Are you worse ? Does he say so ?" 
 
 " No, dear father ;" she uttered feebly, 
 " no ! no !" ♦ 
 
 " Where has he gone ?" 
 
 '^ Who ?" 
 
 " The good Pedlar ; I thought he spoke 
 harshly." 
 
 *' Oh ! no! dear father," she replied in 
 tremulous tones. In another moment she had 
 fainted.
 
 158 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It was not long ere the Pedlar mastered his 
 intense emotion, for notwithstanding his more 
 than usually powerful affections, he possessed, 
 in a great degree, the faculty of exercising his 
 self-control. The first burst of anguish passed, 
 other thoughts crowded into his brain ; and 
 now that he had discovered his interesting 
 patient to be, to his utter astonishment, an old 
 and dear friend, he felt redoubled s}Tnpathy 
 with the whole family, and a desire to learn 
 the events which had driven the beautiful girl 
 from the pale of luxury to the roof of poverty. 
 He recollected, too, that the eldest son was dan- 
 gerously ill, and that the sister was in a very
 
 THE PEDLAR. 159 
 
 doubtful state ; so that he calmed his counte- 
 nance, and again entered the house ; though 
 he first sought the mother and explained to 
 her the mutual friendship that had existed be- 
 tween her daughter and himself, as well as 
 something of his early history. Pleased beyond 
 expression, the mother welcomed him again and 
 again, and could scarce refrain from shedding 
 tears over his misfortunes. She then informed 
 him how it was that her poor child had been 
 forsaken by her aunt, the account of which ex- 
 asperated the Pedlar. However, he begged 
 Mrs. Brainsoft to keep secret all that had been 
 told her of himself ; then they spoke together 
 of the illness of her son and daughter, both of 
 whom he felt himself compelled to inform her 
 were in a precarious state ; that the youth was 
 the worse of the two, and but faint hopes could 
 be entertained of his recovery. No time, he 
 said, was to be lost in applying fomentations, 
 as the boy was suffering much pain about his 
 breast and back, which he pronounced the most
 
 160 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 unfavourable sympton he had ever seen develop 
 itself in one so young. Instead of fever and 
 ague, the disease, in his case, had assumed an- 
 other form, and a far more dangerous one, that 
 of pleurisy. The poor mother almost fainted 
 with terror, when the anxious visitor informed 
 her of her son's fearful condition ; however, 
 after some advice and remonstrance from that 
 worthy man, she managed to resume her house- 
 hold duties with a calmed brow. 
 
 The Pedlar prepared a hot fomentation from 
 some herbs that he fortunately had with him, 
 and placing it steaming in a new flannel bag, 
 applied it to the side of the sufferer. The 
 mother watched by the bedside of the poor boy, 
 and would hardly leave him for an instant. It 
 was as much as the Pedlar could do to calm the 
 father, when the latter perceived his son was 
 in need of so much attention, Avhich disclosed 
 to him his dangerous condition. He endea- 
 voured to cheer him, and bade him bear his 
 troubles with manlv fortitude, and take care of
 
 THE PEDLAR. l6l 
 
 himself, that he might the sooner be able to 
 render some assistance in their exertions to 
 restore his son and daughter ; after which ex- 
 hortations the unlucky Brainsoft became some- 
 what calmer, though it might be seen that he 
 was mentally anxious for his suffering children. 
 
 The Pedlar saw with sorrow that poor Annie 
 was evidently growing worse. He sat all that 
 day by her bedside ; talked to her sometimes 
 in a low tone of past events till the tears trick- 
 led down his manly cheeks ; but aware that it 
 might injure her, in her feeble state, he fore- 
 bore to indulge in much conversation. 
 
 The day passed, however, without any visi- 
 ble improvement in either of the invalids. 
 
 Night again dropped her pall over the earth, 
 and the Pedlar, after having taken leave of the 
 family, and seen as far as he could to the well- 
 doing of his patients, wandered forth to muse 
 alone. 
 
 The previous day had fortunately become 
 fine since noon, and the firmament was now
 
 162 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 studded with the gems of night, while the at- 
 tendant moon, far up in the blue heavens, threw 
 down her silvery beams on the mournful-look- 
 ing cedar trees, whose twisted trunks seemed 
 like agonized giants writhing in the partial 
 gloom. The owl still roosted in its old place, 
 and sent far into the distant echoes its solemn 
 notes. The " Katydids," a kind of gTass- 
 hopper, still plied their lungs, if lungs they 
 had any, at a furious rate ; and the joyous 
 bull-frogs, delighted that night had again ar- 
 rived, chorussed in creaking harmony. A sly 
 fox, who like the bear of the pre\ious night, 
 was strolling about evidently anticipating the 
 taste of some live stock, started off with tail 
 and ears erect to his cover, when he caught 
 sight of the slow wayfarer threading his way 
 through the mud aud thistles towards the 
 shining river. As on the night previous, the 
 river still foamed, and hurled its never ceasing 
 waters over its swollen bed ; carrying do^n in 
 its furious course whole trees that had been
 
 THE PEDLAR. l63 
 
 torn up from its banks by the winds of the late 
 storm. 
 
 To the gratification of the anxious observer, 
 he found that it had not risen above the height 
 it had reached in the morning ; but he saw that 
 a very little more addition to its waters would 
 turn it from its bed, and flooding the land for 
 some distance around, might possibly give the 
 log-hut a ride on the surface of the merciless 
 element. He became convinced there was no 
 remaining in its vicinity, and gazing at the sky 
 to ascertain what indications might be gathered 
 from its appearance, he saw, to his sorrow, 
 dense masses of black clouds rising from the 
 south-west ; and he apprehended, as the wea- 
 ther was so unsettled, that another storm would 
 burst upon the scene ere the dawn of the coming 
 dav. Amidst a thousand conflictino^ thoun^hts 
 that whirled through his brain of the wondrous 
 coincidences that had happened to him through 
 his yet young life ; of the memory of past sor- 
 rows, that had been so unexpectedly called
 
 164 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 forth ; he prayed for the speedy return of the 
 negro, that he might set about making arrange- 
 ments to take the family to the village. But 
 how to remove the sick was his greatest diffi- 
 culty ; as he knew it would be, at least for one 
 of them, a fearful risk. He saw, however, 
 that there was no help for it. 
 
 The owl at that moment sent forth its pecu- 
 liar notes, and they sounded ominously to his 
 ears ; another perched in a distant bush ap- 
 peared to laugh when she answered her mate 
 in the same dismal tones ; and the bull-frogs 
 croaking in full chorus seemed to confirm the 
 omen. 
 
 *' Poor Annie Burlington ! Strange coinci- 
 dence ! Singular thing ! Providence is in it,' 
 soliloquised the Pedlar, as he entered the sleep- 
 ing place allotted to him ; and wrapping himself 
 in his blanket, wearied by his unremitting at- 
 tentions to the poor family, and his own painful 
 thoughts, he sank quickly into a deep sleep. 
 
 But not long w^as he permitted to rest ; the
 
 THE PEDLAR. l65 
 
 poor boy became worse in the night ; again hot 
 fomentations and other remedies were applied, 
 but all seemed to be of little avail. At length so 
 great were his sufferings 'that he could not help 
 but shriek, and call upon his mother ; but be- 
 tween the paroxysms of pain, he expressed his 
 thanks to those about him for their kindness 
 and attention to his wants, and his fears that 
 he disturbed his sister, and earnestly thanked 
 his physician, who sat beside him. 
 
 The Pedlar saw no hope ; and when after 
 an hour or two all was still in the apartment, 
 he kept his eye, by the aid of a solitary candle, 
 upon the boy's fast altering visage. The 
 mother, quite worn out, had fallen asleep upon 
 his bedside. All slept but the Pedlar and 
 Annie, and the latter said in an imploring 
 tone — " Mr. Clavering ?" 
 
 '^ Yes, Miss Annie," he answered softly. 
 
 '' Oh ! save my brother, sir." 
 
 " Pray to God for help," he said, "He alone 
 has the power, — not deputed to me, I fear, —
 
 166 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 but," added he, ''what am I thinking of? 
 Poor girl !" said he tenderly, walking softly to 
 her bedside, — " do not, for heaven's sake, for 
 the sake of those who love you as the hope of 
 their lives, aggravate your own complaint by 
 needless fears for others ; these are trials. Miss 
 Annie, that in our brief course through life w^e 
 have to submit to, and we must bend to the 
 will of Providence ; we should not give way to 
 useless grief and repinings." He could say no 
 more, his utterance w^as choked by his rising- 
 emotion. 
 
 "Poor Mr. Clavering!" said Annie to her- 
 self; " who possesses less control than he does 
 over those dearest affections'? I will try at 
 least to suppress my feelings. 
 
 Nothing further was said by either. Again 
 the Pedlar was at the bedside of the boy who 
 was dozing, and once more he sought steathily 
 his own apartment, where he was welcomed by 
 his watchful dog. Placing a log on the live
 
 THE PEDLAR. l67 
 
 embers, it soon caught a light and blazed 
 merrily. Again he wrapped himself in his 
 blanket, and sank upon his pallet, waiting not 
 long for balmy sleep, whioh soon clasped him 
 in her happy and refreshing embrace.
 
 168 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 On the next morning, Mr. Brainsoft, find- 
 ing himself, to his joy as well as astonishment, 
 '' as strong as an ox," — as he termed it, — and 
 fearing if the Pedlar came near him, ere he 
 rose from his bed, that he might possibly per- 
 suade him to sleep away another day, bundled 
 on his clothes, and became convinced, after 
 walking up and down his apartment, that he 
 actually stood on his legs again, whilst his in- 
 ner man yearned for his breakfast. 
 
 The morning had scarcely broken, and with 
 the exception of his own movements, all else 
 was silent. His wife he perceived, with her 
 clothes on, lying by the side of the groaning
 
 THE PEDLAR. l69 
 
 boy, who had not been able to sleep through- 
 out the live-long night. 
 
 Mr. Brainsoft saw with astonishment that 
 he was awake, and was much agitated on be- 
 holding the change made in the boy's features, 
 during his short illness. So much did he feel 
 it, that all thoughts of himself were forgot- 
 ten, and his appetite, though unappeased, for- 
 sook him. After speaking in kindly and most 
 feeling tones to his son, he gazed upon his 
 daughter, who was asleep ; and though he 
 knew it not, she had not long been so. Her 
 thoughts all night had been occupied con- 
 fusedly by past events. She saw herself; 
 again in her aunt's magnificent drawing-room 
 the handsome lover wooing the beautiful 
 Maude Etherington, when a visitor to her 
 aunt, and who was then a lovely girl of six- 
 teen. She was a willing and joyous actress in 
 scenes of past revelry. She was dancing on 
 the bridal eve ; the graceful Clavering was 
 again whirling her round in the festive waltz, 
 
 I
 
 J 70 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 and calling her " dear sister/' beloved next to 
 the friend she most prized on earth. She was 
 again breathing her fondness for him ; her 
 childlike admiration for the man who was the 
 next day to carry her more than sister from her. 
 Again she was clinging around the neck of the 
 newly wedded one, unable to leave the bosom 
 on which she had so often rested, until torn 
 away by her aunt from her dearest friend. 
 She was again pressing to her breast the little 
 offspring, so like her own dear Maude, its happy 
 mother ; and she awoke from partial delirium, 
 her brain busied with painful recollections, 
 amongst which was that of the separation, when 
 her aunt informed her that the haughty 
 baronet — the father of Clavering — incensed 
 at his son's marriage, had refused to see him, 
 and that the loved ones were gone — whither, 
 no one could tell. 
 
 " Poor young thing !" whispered Brainsoft 
 over his beloved child, and gazing with won- 
 der upon her more than natural beauty,
 
 THE PEDLAR. 171 
 
 " Bless me, child, it had been better, my 
 Annie, had you never left your parents' roof 
 to dwell with her, who, though so genteel as 
 not to acknowledge your poor unoffending 
 father, turned you off in so scandalous a man- 
 ner. That father would never have done so 
 to any of hers. The old woman ^11 suffer for 
 it, though she is a lady ; the day will come 
 when she'll be in for it. Poor girl ! I'm blest 
 if I don't one day tell her my mind. Lord 
 sakes ! I ought never to have come here ; to 
 get into such a pickle, too ! and, dear soul as 
 you are, if I'd listened to you when you told 
 me you didn't like that insinuating Yankee's 
 manner, we might have been happy for all. 
 Dear, dear, all these thoughts madden me ! 
 Poor thing ! sleep as long as you can. How 
 very pale she is ; and what is she talking 
 about r' 
 
 Annie opened her beautiful eyes, and the 
 rather wild expression they wore somewhat 
 startled the simple father. She arose ener-
 
 172 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 getically in her bed, and gazed for a moment 
 around the apartment, as if the place appeared 
 strange to her. 
 
 '* Ah ! Mr.Harrowsmith," said she, looking 
 earnestly at her father, '* what, leave the house! 
 this house, mine ! What, leave my dear aunt ! 
 my music, sir ! my piano, a present from my 
 aunt, given me on the day little Maude Cla- 
 vering was born ! Oh, no ! no ! no ! sir ; 
 though you are my aunt^s husband, I'm still 
 her neice. You are amusing yourself at my 
 expense. Why, sir, you must be sixty years 
 of age ; old enough, indeed, to know when a 
 jest is in place ; this jesting will not do, sir ;" 
 continued the sick girl, with her eyes flashing 
 fire. " Go now, say you ] what, away from 
 my home, my own dear, sweet home ! Oh, is 
 this a joke, sir, I pray you '? Oh, I see you 
 are jealous of me ; yes, oh Heavens ! I see it 
 too plainly !" 
 
 Mr. Brain soft looked about bewildered. His 
 daughter cast upon him a most pitiful glance,
 
 THE PEDLAR. 173 
 
 glance, and seized one of his bony hands in 
 her nervous grasp. 
 
 " Still severe in look ! where is my aunt, 
 sir]" said she; then in startling accents, w^hich 
 were so loud as to awake the mother, who, 
 alarmed, hastily ran to her bedside, " I will 
 see my aunt," exclaiming the delirious girl, 
 " I will see her, sir ; I will not be driven from 
 this roof, where I have dwelt all my life in 
 peace and happiness. Oh ! this is it ; now I 
 see it all ; my aunt, for the first time in her 
 life, spoke unkindly to me the day she went 
 out to dinner ; the first time in her life that 
 she ever said a single cross word to me. Oh^ 
 I see it all ! I see it all !" 
 
 *' My poor child, you are at home," said the 
 mother, tenderly, " with your own dear mo- 
 ther, and your father, and sisters. Come, my 
 child, don't terrify me so. Oh ! John,'' she 
 whispered to her husband, " go and see 
 if our kind visitor is up yet ; go quietly, 
 there's a good man. Oh ! I^m glad you
 
 174 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 are so much better ; he sleeps in the next 
 room." 
 
 The husband, pale from apprehension — at 
 least all but his nose, for no grief or accident 
 of any kind could pale that, — on tiptoe sought 
 the sleeping apartment of the Pedlar, whilst 
 poor Annie continued her incoherent mutter- 
 ings. " Ah !^' exclaimed she, as if frightened 
 at her mother's vicinity to her, 
 
 ''Is it possible, madam, that you Avill see 
 your child — your niece so much beloved — 
 turned suddenly, and without reason, from the 
 roof where she has been bred and educated — 
 from the home of her dear aunt ! what ! you, 
 as well as he, will cast me forth ! where to go 1 
 to my mother ! oh ! heavens ! Ah !" she 
 shrieked, as she observed the Pedlar approach- 
 ing her bedside along with the father, who 
 had found him in deep sleep ; '* Mr. Clavering, 
 welcome; here — -listen, come sir, dear Mr. 
 Clavering, protect me from that man ; can 
 you believe it 1 they would"
 
 THE PEDLAR. 175 
 
 " Mr. Clavering !" muttered the fixther to 
 himself, " poor thing ! poor thing !" 
 
 Clavering shook his head. 
 
 " Oh ! sir/* said Mrs. Brainsoft, what can 
 be done ?" 
 
 " Be calm, ma'am," said the Pedlar, softly, 
 taking the hand of the delirious girl, and 
 looking upon her with a kind and tender ex- 
 pression. " How is it with you. Miss Bur- 
 lington 1" 
 
 " Burlington," muttered the father, *' Sir, 
 sir, — how is this 1 that you are acquainted 
 with her adopted name] the name of her aunt ! 
 
 " Last night," Mr. Brainsoft, said the Ped- 
 lar, "your daughter told me something of 
 her past history." 
 
 " Ah!" returned Brainsoft, " poor thing ! 'twas 
 a scandalous affair, sir, —a very scandalous affair 
 that ; dear ! dear ! bless us ! bless us ! this is 
 very bad." 
 
 To the kind interrogation of the Pedlar the 
 sick girl replied, "Thank heaven! you are
 
 176 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 come ; don't leave me, sir, I pray you. Do you 
 see this man, Mr. Harrowsmith, my aunt's hus- 
 band 1 he tells me that I am to leave my dear 
 home ! But where did you come from Send 
 Maude, sir ; send, send Maude here ; quick. 
 Oh ! I cannot leave all I have so long loved ! 
 what will my father and mother say? My 
 poor dear parents, it's enough for them to live 
 as it is, without having me to burden them 
 thus suddenly and unexpectedly. Now, hear, 
 sir ; I must see my aunt ; seek her, and send 
 her here." 
 
 " Hush !" said the Pedlar, to the weeping 
 parents, " leave me with her a little time." 
 
 It was now evident to all that her condition 
 was most dangerous ; and all the day long the 
 poor thing talked deliriously of her aunt — of 
 past happy times — and of her banishment 
 from her early home. The Pedlar was by her 
 bedside the whole time, except when attending 
 to the suffering lad, who was every hour grow- 
 ing worse and worse, and with much pain he
 
 THE PEDLAR 177 
 
 was obliged to inform Mrs. Brainsoft that there 
 was no hope of her son^s life, and little for her 
 daughter's. The father, too, had not been up 
 many hours before he felt that some remnants 
 of his disease still lingered ; but the mys- 
 terious physician bade him be of good cheer, 
 as by the next day he would be nearly re- 
 covered. 
 
 All this time the Pedlar laboured under 
 deep anxiety, not only on account of his suf- 
 fering patients, but also because he was 
 fearful that the river would soon flood 
 the land, and perhaps before they should 
 have time to escape. Henry Brainsoft was 
 sent to the village by his directions to 
 hurry on the negro, and also to procure some 
 few necessaries. The Pedlar had not yet in- 
 formed the master of the farm of the dan- 
 gerous state of the river ; as he knew it would 
 be useless to do so until the return of the ne- 
 gro, to whom he had given such orders and 
 directions as would obtain some means for
 
 178 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 their removal. During the whole past day, 
 therefore, he had been troubling himself about 
 the rain, which seemed determined to hasten 
 on, as fast as it could, the dreaded event. 
 He was enabled, by his professional skill, to 
 soothe the maiden, but knew in his own 
 mind, inevitable as such a proceeding must 
 be, that it would be a very hazardous thing to 
 remove her ; and he much doubted the issue. 
 As for the poor lad who had been groaning 
 under the most severe pain throughout every 
 successive hour, he foresaw he could survive 
 but a very little time. Possessing a strong 
 feeling of resignation to the will of Provi- 
 dence, and a disposition to exercise that virtue 
 immediately after his first burst of grief had 
 subsided, and seeing the necessity of being 
 collected and cool for all their sakes, he was 
 able to act the part of a kind friend and ad- 
 viser to the family now in such trouble. Mr. 
 Brainsoft slept for some hours ; and ere even- 
 ing again spread her mantle over the earth,
 
 THE PEDLAR. 179 
 
 he endeavoured to assist the Pedlar in his at- 
 tentions to the sick, and watched by the bed- 
 side of the lad whilst the mother snatched an 
 hour's repose. 
 
 The Pedlar had expected the negro's re- 
 turn at noon ; and from his usual punctuality 
 he knew that he must be detained in the vil- 
 lage, or on his way, by some accident. 
 
 Leaving the father to watch for a brief 
 space his two children, he strolled out into the 
 clearing, for the purpose of going a little way 
 down the rough road to meet his expected 
 servant. As on the three or four past days, 
 the weather was exceedingly disagreeable ; 
 sometimes in was rainy, always blowing hard. 
 
 Observing that it was likely soon to be 
 dark, for the moon would not rise for some 
 time, he got a small lantern from his own 
 stock, and taking with him a stout thorn stick, 
 and accompanied by his faithful dog, away he 
 went at a quick pace over the miserable log 
 covered clearings — now coming in full force
 
 180 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 against some concealed stump, and now into a 
 clump of thorn bushes— for the clearing 
 having been so long neglected, and lying 
 waste, it was not only covered with thistles of 
 enormous size and strength, but the roots of 
 the felled trees had thrown out numbers of 
 branches, making almost a forest of under- 
 wood. Some time elapsed ere the Pedlar dis- 
 covered the track which had been remade or 
 recut by the Brainsofts, when they brought 
 their waggon load of goods to the farm. Years 
 agone there had been a rough road formed, 
 but no one having travelled that way for a 
 long time past, it had become full of 
 small trees. It was miserably irregular and 
 rough ; and not only rough but the late 
 frosted soil of winter having been thawed, it 
 had become soft mud to the depth of a foot or 
 more ; and further, over this mud, in numbers 
 of places right across the track, were spread 
 long and tough roots, the property of immense 
 oak and elm trees that bordered it. Where
 
 THE PEDLAR. 181 
 
 the way was swampy, logs had been laid re- 
 gularly across, through the crevices of which 
 the muddy water kept oozing. This wretched 
 road stretched to within a mile of the vil- 
 lage — a distance of three leagues, and was 
 formed, as we have said, now of roots lying in 
 a kind of lattice work over deep mud, then of 
 logs laid across swamps, called, in common 
 parlance, in America, "Corduroy;" and in 
 shape, the whole weary distance, more serpent- 
 like in its windings than the most tortuous 
 running river. 
 
 As if to annoy especially our worthy friend 
 the Pedlar, the rain now seemed as if it felt it 
 incumbent upon itself to let him know 
 particularly that there was such an element, 
 all prepared to have a glorious bit of fun with 
 him, for ere he had reached the deep impene- 
 trable, and gloomy woods, down it tumbled 
 pell-mell ; and he was compelled to crouch 
 under a large elm tree, whose branches, 
 for some little time, protected him from the
 
 182 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 deluge. But soon the budding foliage was 
 not sufficient to afford him shelter, and he was 
 constrained to permit — what it was impossible 
 to prevent — some little of the liquid to play 
 upon his devoted person. He kept the small 
 lantern partly hid under his coat ; and think- 
 ing it useless returning to the house if he 
 meant to seek the negro, strode on. He 
 looked above with a piteous visage through 
 the boughs of the trees, but could discern no- 
 thing but blackness. Not a single star was 
 visible to lend a hope that the clouds might 
 disperse ; nothing but dismal trees around, all 
 streaming with water, as if weeping for their 
 lot in having the misfortune to grow in so 
 solitary a wilderness. One long uninterrupted 
 sound thundered through the scene, caused by 
 the various noises of the stream, the wind, 
 and the rain, altogether stunning the ears of 
 the drenched wayfarer, who, sometimes to his 
 momentary pleasure, imagined that he heard 
 the sound of a waggon breaking over the log
 
 THE PEDLAR 183 
 
 road, or the crackling of a whip, but inva- 
 riably discovered that it was but the breaking 
 down of a rotten bough, — the mightiest arm 
 of some gigantic tree, or the unmerciful din 
 of the discordant elements. 
 
 Although despairing of the rain ceasing, 
 the Pedlar was determined neither to be 
 daunted nor stopped by it, so in spite of its 
 raging, he called his poor shivering dog, and 
 stumbled along the road as well as he was 
 able, angry at the numerous impediments that 
 baulked his way. Fortunately, his lantern 
 continued alight, and by its gleam he managed 
 to make some progress ; many a time, how- 
 ever, losing the track, since in most places 
 it presented no different features from the 
 rest of the land ; and often he had to disco- 
 ver his way by feeling the trees along the 
 borders of the road, some having niches chop- 
 ped on them to signify its direction. The 
 rain, as if doubly resolved to interfere with 
 the traveller's comfort, hurled down whole
 
 184 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 clouds at once, but in spite of it onward he 
 strove ; and onward went the dog, wagging 
 his dripping — no longer bushy — tail, now and 
 then darting a little way into the dark woods, 
 barking vehemently, fancying he saw some 
 animal to which he had, like all his race, 
 an antipathy, and quite as eager as his master, 
 to meet with his old friend Carolina. 
 
 Suddenly the dog came to a stand still, and 
 whined. The Pedlar stopped and listened ; 
 but heard no other sound than that of the 
 rain and the creaking of the trees. He 
 turned the light of his lantern in every di- 
 rection, to try and discover what the dog saw 
 to attract his attention. To the surprise of 
 the traveller, he observed very near him, two 
 fiery eyes gleaming from amid the intense dark- 
 ness which now pervaded the scene. There 
 were these two eyes glaring as if the owner of 
 such fierce orbs was of a nature not particu- 
 larly humane nor friendly. The eyes moved 
 not, but were fixed full upon the Pedlar with
 
 THE PEDLAR. 185 
 
 an expression much like that v/hich a lion may 
 be supposed to exhibit ere he spring upon 
 his prey. At first sight of these terrible look- 
 ing objects the Pedlar was somewhat taken 
 aback, supposing for an instant that the crea- 
 ture who possessed such alarming features 
 might be a grizzly one — by the name of bear ; 
 but his fears were not long taxed, though he 
 had reason to bless his good fortune when he 
 found they belonged to a poor innocent owl 
 that was quietly perched upon the branch of a 
 tree, which lay right across the track, evidently 
 a recent victim of the prostrating blasts that 
 had lately played such games with these mo- 
 narchs of the wood. 
 
 There the owl sat ; a big white fellow he 
 was ; with his poor white feathers all soaked 
 by the unkindly element, now pouring down 
 with so little remorse upon him and everything 
 else ; he did not seem to care for the wet, 
 however, but appeared to be ruminating upon 
 important occurrences going on in his native
 
 186 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 wilds, SO wise and reverend the creature 
 looked ; and perhaps all the matter he was 
 cogitating upon, — and the important affairs 
 which kept his brains at work, and his imagi- 
 nation busy, — were relating to some poor little 
 harmless mouse that he w^as watching, and 
 which, — tiny, insignificant effort of nature, — 
 was probably peeping from the hole of some 
 rotten tree, thinking whether or not it would 
 be safe for her to hazard her valuable person 
 in the endeavour to get her young family a nut 
 or two from the ground for their evening 
 meal. 
 
 Certainly the two eyes had discovered to 
 the Pedlar an obstacle in his way, and one 
 with which he might, had not the owl by acci- 
 dent perched there, have come into fierce col- 
 lision — to the damage of nothing less than his 
 own head-piece — so that the insignificant crea- 
 ture, as far as he was concerned, w as there for 
 some useful purpose. Soon the wise feathered 
 one observed the dog, and not admiring
 
 THE PEDLAR. \f<7 
 
 Sambo's hungry glance, flew ofl*, hooting, into 
 the dense gloom, and we hope, to the delight 
 of the watching mouse, if any mouse were 
 there. With much difliculty the Pedlar ma- 
 naged to get over the fallen tree, and he ob- 
 served, with a feeling of annoyance, that before 
 a waggon could pass, an hour or two would be 
 consumed in clearing it from the track. Many 
 a time did the anxious man pause to listen for 
 the sounds of the expected party. Nothing, 
 however, greeted his ears, but theu continued 
 tumult occasioned by the elements, one of 
 which, the rain, was pelting down with una- 
 bated fierceness through the dancing foliage of 
 the dreary pines which now lined the gloomy 
 path. Being well accustomed to this kind of 
 journeying at all hours of the night, he, of 
 course, picked his way in a much easier manner 
 than Brainsoft or any other inexperienced 
 woodsman would have done ; and though at 
 times his legs were all but buried to his knees 
 in the mud, his feet nearly twisted off between
 
 188 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 lattice-like roots, yet unheeding these to him 
 accustomed impediments, he somewhat angrily 
 pursued his solitary walk, miserable as he was 
 from being fairly drenched to the skin, and 
 uncertain whether it were any use his proceed- 
 ing further. 
 
 At length he came to the borders of a 
 dreary morass, over which went the track 
 partly formed of logs that were in a ruinous 
 and rotten state. Here the scene presented to 
 the view was of a nature widely different to 
 that which the traveller had lately passed. 
 The rain, to his comfort, began to abate ; and 
 the moon, which had climbed almost as high 
 as the tops of the trees from behind dull 
 masses of clouds, now kindly burst forth and 
 threw a silver tint on the summit of the gigan- 
 tic twisted cedars that bound the swamp on 
 which the Pedlar found himself. 
 
 Gladly did he hail the appearance of the 
 bright luminary which rising queenlike and 
 swiftly, soon displayed her broad winning
 
 THE PEDLAR. 189 
 
 countenance ; seemingly taking as much plea- 
 sure in shining upon the solitude of the wil- 
 derness, as she does over the Alpine peaks or 
 the gorgeous scenery of an Italian landscape. 
 
 The wind hlew stronger, and now instead of 
 driving the rain-clouds together in masses so 
 as to overspread the earth, it became the ser- 
 vant of the moon, and the fast appearing gems 
 of the firmament — the lustrous stars, — forcing 
 with its fierce blasts the impudent clouds to 
 hurry over the boundless realms of space to 
 play their pranks in distant regions. The en- 
 livening beams of the glorious orb soon 
 lightened the dreary landscape, disclosing 
 clearly, the broken road — the surrounding 
 cedars — the dangerous reed-covered swamp — 
 and a thousand objects of fantastic shape as- 
 sumed by the trunks of decayed trees. Part 
 of the swamp was tenanted by numbers of 
 dead ash trees, that still stood erect, spreading 
 their hard time-worn branches in the air ; and 
 all through the summer, these mockeries of
 
 190 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 life stretched abroad their lifeless boughs in 
 striking contrast to the luxuriant garb of 
 green which clothed the more fortunate vete- 
 rans of the mighty forests. 
 
 This change, notwithstanding the wetting, 
 was pleasant to the feelings of the wayfarer ; 
 and also to his faithful animal, who bounded 
 about sometimes in great glee, but was at 
 length arrested in the midst of his gambols, by 
 his slipping off the edge of the corduroy-road, 
 into the slush, out of which he had great diffi- 
 culty in extricating himself ; after this accident 
 the dog, like his master, pursued his way care- 
 fully. The Pedlar discovered that this des- 
 perate log-made road stretched a distance of 
 some five hundred yards, over a continuous 
 swamp ; and he knew that the attempt to get 
 a waggon with either oxen or horses over such 
 a place would be extremely hazardous. He was 
 ruminating upon this difficulty, when, to his 
 great joy, he heard the black's voice on the 
 other side, and directly afterwards observed
 
 THE PEDLAR. IQl 
 
 some forms emerge from the woods to the 
 boundary of the swamp, and walking hastily 
 forward he saw the negro and the boy with a 
 waggon and oxen. 
 
 The negro was bawling to the animals in the 
 most stentorian tones ; for at the best 'tis al- 
 ways a matter of some difficulty to drive oxen 
 over good roads ; but through such as are fre- 
 quently found in the bush, the undertaking is 
 next to impracticable. Sambo barked loudly 
 and bounded towards the new comers, exhibit- 
 ing the greatest joy at their approach. 
 
 The Pedlar soon reached the team ; and the 
 negro was delighted to see him, and told him 
 the difficulties he had encountered in borro^\ - 
 ing a waggon and oxen, which he had only 
 obtained, after much perseverance, by a sort of 
 miracle ; with various other matter that con- 
 cerned himself and his master. Ilcnry Brain- 
 soft was walking beside the negi'o, and both of 
 them were soaked to the skin. The black also 
 complained bitterly of the trouble he had
 
 192 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 encountered in driving the oxen, and said, that 
 it was only by continued blows and shouting, 
 that they could keep them in the track ; and a 
 dozen times at least, the unruly beasts had 
 drawn the waggon against stumps, which had 
 to be cut away ere they could get it free again. 
 ^* Dey am de most dam rascals I eber 
 dribed," said the negro, wiping the perspira- 
 tion from his shining brow, — ^*dey am, in- 
 deed, massa. Dat Berry dare no go, not at 
 all ; and as for dat Buck, dat ugly black steer, 
 I hab bawl, bawl, bawl, all de blessed ten 
 miles to de beast ; and sometime, when I say 
 woh, him run ahead like a streak ob lightnin'; 
 and ben I say go ahead, him stop right short 
 like a deer dat hab been shot wid em bullet in 
 em brain ! Ah ! me had debil deal of trouble 
 wid ebery one ob de two black beasts. See 
 dat dare stick," exclaimed the black, enraged 
 to a degree, showing the Pedlar a long bough 
 of a thorn-tree, nearly peeled by its hard 
 usage, " I hab break one, two, ten stick like
 
 THE PEDLAR. 193 
 
 dis on dat stubborn steer, Buck, and him say 
 noting" at all but chew him cud. Oh ! massa, 
 if it handn't been, dat dis nigger hab drop ob 
 comfort stuff in de waggon, he hab gone crazy. 
 Tank Providence, you come just here, for lor a 
 golly me ! how get ober dis here place, neber 
 can tell, no how. Why, ebery log am rotten ! 
 Dare, big hole ! Here, Henry, you cut some 
 boughs down, and put dem dare, p'raps dat 
 do ; we neber get ober dis crossin' wid a load, 
 massa." 
 
 '^ You are right, my good Carolina," said 
 the Pedlar, patting his shoulder ; it is exces- 
 sively dangerous. Now, will the oxen stand?" 
 
 '' Oh ! yes, massa ; dey like dat bery much ; 
 no fear ob dat, dey neber move ; dey chew em 
 cud all day long, and contemplate ; like to be 
 gemblemen bery much, dey like lead sedent'ry 
 life." 
 
 '' Have you more than one axe, Carolina ?" 
 continued his master ; "we will soon mend the 
 road sufficiently to get the waggon over ; so 
 
 K
 
 194 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 come along, and let us cut and carry some logs 
 and make it as good as we can." 
 
 The most dangerous holes and rotten parts 
 of the crossing were rendered tolerably good 
 by the united efforts of the trio, by means of 
 logs of wood and branches of trees ; and when 
 all was thought as safe as it could be made, 
 Carolina prepared to guide the oxen on to the 
 crossway. The two ill-trained brutes, sensible 
 that there lay a dangerous road between them, 
 were, with the utmost difficulty, made to place 
 their forefeet upon the first log, and when they 
 did so they came to a dead halt, and sniffed 
 the air angrily, blowing out their bodies, and 
 foaming at the mouth as if they had been la- 
 bouring excessively. The Pedlar and Henry 
 Brainsoft went behind the waggon, and put 
 their shoulders to it to help on the sturdy 
 oxen, whilst the negTo bawled till he became 
 savage, breaking the eleventh stick upon the 
 tough hides of the animals, as they seemed to 
 have come to the resolution not to entrust
 
 THE PEDLAR. 195 
 
 their heavy bodies upon such a suspicious- 
 looking pathway. The negi^o got another 
 tough stick, and at length, by dint of much 
 coaxing, upbraiding, and belabouring, the 
 oxen took it into their heads to attempt the 
 feat, and on to the road they went, jolting the 
 rather frail waggon unmercifully on the rough 
 logs. At every step the cautious but heavy 
 creatures took, their feet slipped ; and it was 
 only by the continued application of the stick 
 that they were made to keep up at all. The 
 poor negro was well nigh exhausted by his 
 shoutings. 
 
 Suddenly the oxen made a dash forward, as 
 if alarmed ; and to avoid being run over, the 
 negro stepped backwards, falling head over 
 heels into the swamp, and was nearly buried in 
 the mud ; whilst the oxen went bounding 
 along quite merrily, and were only brought 
 to a somewhat astounding halt by reason of 
 one of them slipping off the track, and 
 tumbling into the very midst of the soft mire
 
 196 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 which bordered it. The other ox still main- 
 tained, with all his strength, his position on 
 the crossway, though his head was drawn down 
 by his mate, who was struggling in his slimy 
 bed, snorting, foaming, and plunging fearfully. 
 The waggon, too, was upset, and lay partly in 
 the water and partly in the road. 
 
 The Pedlar was much annoyed ; he, how- 
 ever, lent a hasty assistance to his man, whom, 
 with some trouble he dragged from the mire, 
 in a most pitiful condition. Then they made 
 their way towards the oxen, the unfortunate 
 negro venting his displeasure in groans, and in 
 hearty abuse of the obstinate cattle, who had 
 so unceremoniously plunged him into the mud, 
 and themselves into so dangerous a predica- 
 ment. 
 
 To relieve the plunging and infuriated ox 
 was now the next step ; but how to do it was 
 the difficulty. At length the negro managed 
 to knock the pins out of the yoke of the partly 
 submerged brute, so that he became free from
 
 THE PEDLAR 197 
 
 his mate ; and after sundry efforts, by dint of 
 his enormous strength, he got on to the logs, 
 trembling with fear. To prevent him taking 
 flight into the woods, which he could only do 
 by the road, the negro stood before him, whilst 
 the others released Buck, the steer, from 
 the vehicle, and placed it in an upright posi- 
 tion. They then managed to reyoke the oxen, 
 and to affix them again to the waggon. They 
 knckity succeeded in getting them over the 
 swamp ; after which, the beasts went along 
 tolerably well, until they came to the fallen 
 tree. Upwards of an hour was consumed in 
 clearing it from the track. This labour ac- 
 complished, they arrived in due course at 
 the solitary habitation of the English family ; 
 and after turning the oxen loose to graze in the 
 clearing with old Jack, the veteran pony, the 
 three wearied pedestrians entered the house, 
 very thankful indeed, late as it was, that they 
 had reached it.
 
 198 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Very little sleep did the Pedlar get that 
 night. He had, on his return home, informed 
 Mr. Brainsoft of their dangerous vicinity to 
 the river, and explained to him the necessity of 
 a speedy removal, for which he had provided 
 the means. He had first to endure the poor 
 man's exclamations of sorrow at this unlooked- 
 for intelligence ; and was prevented from re- 
 tiring to rest for some hours by the increasing 
 illness of the boy. 
 
 The night of course did slip by, as it always 
 does, slowly or not, according to our peculiar 
 circumstances, and in the morning the Pedlar 
 found that the river was actually rising. He
 
 THE PEDLAR. 199 
 
 therefore saw there wks no time to be lost, and 
 that they would have but a brief space to pre- 
 pare for their slow flight. Had it not been for 
 the care and caution necessary to be used to- 
 wards his patients, not much difficulty would 
 have presented itself; but some contrivance 
 was requisite to devise a plan to remove them 
 without adding more than was possible to their 
 sufferings. When he returned to the house 
 and told Mr. Brainsoft that a move next morn- 
 ing was inevitable, that gentleman was much 
 inclined to dispute its necessity, and took a 
 hasty walk through the mud towards the river, 
 to convince himself. He ran back in affright, 
 and soon lent a hand to load the waggon ; 
 whilst the Pedlar and the black made a litter 
 to carry the sick, which they contrived in 
 a very ingenious manner. The negro went 
 the rest of that day, with Henry, to mend the 
 swamp road by laying fresh logs where it was 
 scarcely passable. They succeeded in render- 
 ing it much more secure, and returned home
 
 200 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 at night to prepare for the morning's start. 
 The afflicted mother seeing that a removal 
 was unavoidable, bore the intelligence with 
 calmness, though the Pedlar could perceive 
 that she was nearly heart-broken. Her kind 
 guest informed her that the journey would not 
 injure her daughter, who, to their joy, was 
 something better. The lad, he said, might 
 survive it, but in any event, he feared, he could 
 not live many days. It was arranged that 
 they should start early the next day for the 
 village, in which place the good Pedlar had 
 already hired a neat-looking log-house that 
 happened to be untenanted, for the family's 
 accommodation . 
 
 When the morning broke, all observed, to 
 their dismay, that the farther end of the clear- 
 ing was a sheet of shining water, which was 
 spreading slowly in every direction. The oxen 
 were speedily yoked ; and the negro drove 
 them on, whilst the Pedlar, Mr. Brainsoft, and 
 Henry, his eldest son, followed with the litter,
 
 THE PEDLAR. 201 
 
 borne on two stout poles, carrying Annie and 
 George. The mother drove a small waggon 
 drawn by old Jack, the rough pony ; their two 
 pigs were confined therein, and shared the 
 ride with herself and the other children ; and 
 some light articles of furniture were also 
 stowed in it. The two invalids were well 
 shaded from the weather by curtains made of 
 blankets. The groans of the poor boy were 
 incessant. Annie Burlington was slightly im- 
 proved, though still very weak, and at times 
 barely able to understand what the Pedlar said 
 to her. He seemed happy and cheerful, and 
 uttered many a consoling word to the grieved 
 settlers, who were so unceremoniously forced 
 to relinquish their bargain. Mr. Brainsoft 
 looked once back at his late tenement, and 
 heaved several profound sighs, for he thought 
 of his false friend Graspcash, and bitterly re- 
 gretted his own simplicity, and that scrupu- 
 lously attentive gentleman's success in his 
 villainous designs upon him. He felt thank-
 
 202 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 ful, however, that the Pedlar had been 
 so providentially sent to their assistance ; for 
 the sight of the fast approaching waters gently 
 hinted at his narrow escape from much worse 
 troubles than had hitherto befallen him. 
 
 " We must hasten, Mr. Brainsoft," said the 
 Pedlar, " or we shall yet have to perform part 
 of our journey in water, I reckon." 
 
 This was not unlikely to be the case, as the 
 sparkling stream glittering in a morning sun 
 was making its way very rapidly towards 
 them. The noise made by the rushing river 
 sounded startling to their ears, and urged 
 them to increased speed, which occasioned the 
 jolting of the litter, and caused the youth to 
 exclaim in great pain. Mr. Brainsoft's shoul- 
 ders becoming sore by the weight of the pole 
 he carried, he was frequently compelled to in- 
 sist upon their resting a minute, to the annoy- 
 ance of the Pedlar, who was very powerful, 
 and did not feel the burden ; they were neces- 
 sitated, however, to let down the litter everv
 
 THE PEDLAR. 203 
 
 now aud then, whilst Mr. Brainsoft took 
 breath. 
 
 They had nearly gained some higher ground 
 when they observed the water fast approaching, 
 so that they had to increase their speed con- 
 siderably to reach it, which they at length 
 managed to do, to the great relief of the whole 
 party. 
 
 After some weary hours of travelling they 
 came up with the team, which had progressed 
 very well, having got over the swamp without 
 much trouble. They arrived at the village in 
 the afternoon ; and were glad, with all their 
 miseries, to find themselves secure from the 
 inundation, in their new dwelling. There, in 
 a little time, they found themselves tolerably 
 comfortable ; their spirits only damped by the 
 illness of the son, who, to the great grief 
 of the family, died the third day after their ar- 
 rival. This distressing circumstance again 
 called forth the s}Tnpathies of the kind-hearted 
 Pedlar, who administered all the consolation
 
 204 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 in his power to the afflicted parents under their 
 bereavement. Not very long after their lovely 
 daughter rallied. Her speedy recovery was 
 mainly owing to the unremitting attentions of 
 their invaluable friend. By his interest Mr. 
 Brainsoft was soon after employed, at a mode- 
 rate salary, as the schoolmaster of the village. 
 The son got work, for which he received good 
 remuneration ; and the mother and daughter — 
 as time deadened the first feeling of gi'ief for 
 the loss of the boy — became much happier 
 than they ever hoped to be again while they 
 were on their desolate farm. 
 
 The Pedlar took up his abode for nearly a 
 couple of months with the family, during which 
 time he helped to render the house quite a 
 snuggery. He presented them with various 
 articles of furniture, which he purchased in 
 the neighbourhood ; and aided in erecting a 
 log out-house, the principal part of the work 
 being done by himself and the negro. He 
 found many leisure hours to spend with them,
 
 THE PEDLAR. 205 
 
 seeming to care very little for the prosecution 
 of his trade. 
 
 One lovely afternoon, when myriads of flow- 
 ers of endless variety, from virgin white to 
 deep scarlet, besprinkled the meadows and 
 maple forests, two persons were slowly wending 
 their course by the side of a majestic river, 
 that like flowing liquid silver was making 
 its way through the beautiful country that 
 bounded it. On either side of the stream lay, 
 like shining velvet, rich undulating flats, be- 
 sprinkled with flowers. Clumps of thorn 
 bushes, abounding with scented blossoms, 
 luxuriated here and there, o'ertopped some- 
 times by lofty butter-nut trees, resemblino- 
 those ancient walnut-trees that are seen in 
 olden villages in England, making more pic- 
 turesque the scenery of that lovely land. 
 Nourished by the rich soil from which thev 
 sprang, they spread out their numberless 
 branches far into the clear blue sky ; and 
 when the wind blew freely, the leaves rustled
 
 206 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 merrily, as if the forest giants rejoiced in their 
 gorgeous clothing. Wild plum and crab-apple 
 trees grew on the banks ; and behind the flats 
 the land gradually rose, displaying upon 
 its flowered bosom the towering maple ; the 
 bass-wood mighty in girth : the hickory that 
 supplies the towns of the Union with much of 
 their firewood ; and the oak, mightiest of all, 
 and lord of the forest wherever he deigns to 
 take root. With every breeze that floated 
 by, precious perfumes were borne along ; had 
 it been a little earlier in the season, the pre- 
 vailing odour would have been that of the leek, 
 which, every spring, when the snow and hepa- 
 tica have disappeared, usurps all the land, and 
 covers it as the rising corn does the soil of the 
 fields. The cattle that threaded the lonely 
 woods for the young grass and small twigs ga- 
 thered themselves together in various parts and 
 chewed their cud, satisfied with the meal the 
 forest had afforded them. The only sounds 
 which broke upon the stillness of the scene were
 
 THE PEDLAR. 20/ 
 
 those of the tinkling bell upon the neck of 
 some old trusty ox or cow, and the murmuring 
 river, whose smiling face seemed to welcome 
 the sunbeams that so lavishly played upon its 
 waters. 
 
 Two persons, we have said, were wandering 
 slowly on the river's bank ; one was a man 
 who, though habited in home-spun habiliments, 
 discovered, as he moved along by the side 
 of his companion, signs of gentleness and good 
 breeding. His tones, as he spoke, seemed 
 rich with mellowness, and there was an air of 
 courtesy as he bent to listen in return, that sa- 
 voured of high life and gentle companionship. 
 He was a good-looking man too, though his 
 claim to manly beauty lay more in his fine 
 figure, and expression of countenance, than in 
 any particular regularity of feature. His dress 
 consisted of a blue home-spun coat fitting 
 to his figure ; buckskin trousers, and boots 
 that reached to his knee. A mass of dark 
 brown hair falling from beneath his hat, part-
 
 208 
 
 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 ing on either shoulder, displayed an elegantly 
 turned neck. To have followed him, even hy that 
 sign of gentility not often noticed, none could 
 have mistaken him—notwithstanding his clothes 
 were not of Paris cut or material — to have 
 been of any other than gentle blood. Indeed, 
 Edmund Clavering looked better than he had 
 done for months — for it was he. The harsh 
 outlines of his face had somewhat disappeared ; 
 and his dark eyes possessed more of genial fire 
 than had been their wont of late, since regret 
 for the past now less tortured him. How was 
 this ? not alone, because he had discovered, in 
 the maiden he had by his skill rescued from 
 the grave, an old and dear friend — but, that 
 from the conversations of the interesting girl, 
 he had derived sympathy and consolation, 
 which lightened the load of his past sorrows, 
 and somewhat turned the current of his 
 thoughts, and kept him from brooding on his 
 secret troubles. 
 
 And again together, they are taking their
 
 THE PEDLAR. 209 
 
 favourite walk for the last time ; Clavering, 
 and Annie Burlington ; — for none other but 
 she, it may be guessed, was his companion. 
 Oh ! how light and free of step she seems 
 now ! How her voice, like music, rings joy- 
 ously in the air — shaming the constant singing 
 of that little brown bird in the hawthorn tree, 
 that stays its gush of melody and bends 
 its head to listen. Clavering loves to hear 
 that voice. He gazes earnestly at the smiling 
 face that is upturned to his, with a sweet con- 
 fiding look. He thinks Annie beautiful ; — 
 and well he may ; — for she looked then the 
 very incarnation of all that was lovely in the 
 scene. How rich her dark tresses, thought 
 he, as the breeze played with her massive 
 ringlets, which, as they caught the sunbeams 
 were tinged with a golden hue ! And does not 
 the blue of her expressive eyes rival the azure 
 of the sky above them ? Her head too — for 
 her straw hat is in her hand — is it not finely 
 formed ? Her countenance, when in repose.
 
 210 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 was indicative of much inward thought ; but 
 when a smile flitted across it, it became win- 
 ning, and almost infantine in expression. She 
 was tall in stature, and was dressed in what 
 once had been a riding-habit, which was pecu- 
 liarly adapted to display a figure that needed 
 no artificial aid to enhance its natural sym- 
 metry.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 211 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The pair still followed the course of the 
 noble river, admiring the purity of the lucid 
 waters, and remarking the beauty and gran- 
 deur of the stately trees. Both were pas- 
 sionate admirers of nature, and they found 
 something new to strike their sense of the 
 beautiful, at every bend of the meandering 
 stream. With them, of course, was another, 
 without whose company they could hardly have 
 been satisfied. It was our friend — that droll 
 dog, Sambo — that glossy black creature, of 
 majestic size, whose look was full of intelli- 
 gence and sagacity, with his long curly coat, 
 and tail of fine proportions, the envy of
 
 212 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 every cur, large or small, in the village, and 
 wherever he went. There he was bounding 
 along, now after some stray squirrel into 
 the dark woods, then to the river to lap a little 
 of the refreshing current, and then returning 
 at full speed to the fair maiden, for whose 
 caresses and applause he seemed to exert him- 
 self as much as for his own recreation. 
 
 "Annie," said Clavering, "I did not tell 
 you before, as I was uncertain, but we leave 
 you to-morrow." 
 
 The maiden turned pale, and was for some- 
 time silent ; at length she said, in a faint 
 voice, 
 
 " To-morrow, Mr. Clavering ?" 
 
 They walked on a few moments, neither say- 
 ing a word ; avoiding each other's gaze, they 
 turned their eyes upon the woods — the dog, 
 the flowers, and the rapid waters. 
 
 " Shall I be missed at your cottage?" said 
 he stopping suddenly, and gazing upon the 
 ground, evidently anxious as to her reply.
 
 THE PEDLAR 213 
 
 " Shall you be missed !" replied Annie, al- 
 most re-echoing his own tones, — ^* what a sin- 
 gular question from one to whom we owe our 
 very existence ! Think you, sir," she con- 
 tinued, *' think you, that because my father is 
 beneath you in birth, that he and his children 
 are not sensible of the obligations they owe to 
 one, who has done so much for all, and for 
 whom they must always feel the deepest esteem 
 and gratitude, — whom, indeed, they love as a 
 brother ?" 
 
 Perchance this was not exactly the answer 
 that Clavering sought for ; perhaps it was a 
 question not to be incautiously answered ; for 
 he knew that he should be missed, and his 
 departure sincerely regretted by the whole of 
 the family. 
 
 '* As a brother ;" he murmured. Was his 
 heart sad just then, — when Annie Burlington 
 used the word ** brother;" that dubious word — 
 that barrier to all affection of a tender nature? 
 What thoughts filled his breast? Had he
 
 214 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 room there, for more than the recollection of 
 his earliest love ? Even now, that image well- 
 niofh filled his bosom : thouofh the late com- 
 panionship of a woman in no wise her inferior, 
 aided by time, had somewhat deadened the 
 poignancy of his grief, and the remembrance 
 of the lamentable event that caused it. Yet 
 Annie knew that Clavering still dwelt upon 
 the memory of the object of his first affec- 
 tions, — the friend she had so dearly loved ; 
 and oh ! from this circumstance, w^hat untold 
 sympathy there was between them, what a link 
 of associations ! But had either of them been 
 aware of what the other felt ; or had they 
 given expression to their inmost thoughts, 
 which by some strange mysterious influence 
 was withheld, — perchance they had been spared 
 many emotion of sadness, and many an after 
 pang ; or had Clavering exercised that tact and 
 discernment which distinguished him in the 
 common affairs of life — perhaps he might have 
 known himself and his fair companion better I
 
 THE PEDLAR. 215 
 
 " And as a brother," returned he, looking 
 Annie full in the face with a mixture of sad- 
 ness and satisfaction," and as a brother, — you 
 will always love me ?" 
 
 " Yes," she replied, and bent her head and 
 they walked on. What might have meant that 
 " yes ?" Clavering, however, understood it in 
 its literal sense ; but was her tiny hand 
 withdrawn from his, when she uttered the 
 word? Might he not, but for his inad- 
 vertence, have felt it tremble? Well, per- 
 chance he did not. In after years, did he not 
 say, how lonely, when that fair maiden hung 
 upon his arm in the forest, — her simple answer 
 made him ? It was a new feeling of desolation 
 which he then experienced ; and though he 
 brightened up a moment afterwards, and 
 assumed a gaiety almost unnatural, it was only 
 that he might not wound that sister's heart, 
 or leave any trace of sorrow behind him. And 
 what were his fair companion's thoughts? 
 Could all his pleasant talk, to beguile the
 
 2J6 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 way, call up on that fair face any other than a 
 sickly smile? 
 
 Clavering and Annie lingered long in those 
 silent groves of oak and maple ; and they 
 spoke of the past and future, but yet with an 
 evident feeling of restraint ; while the glossy 
 dog relinquished his gambols, and could not be 
 driven from the side of Annie, but now and 
 then kept gazing up at her with a really per- 
 ceptible tear in his eye, walking along slowly 
 as they did, — as if conscious of some coming 
 sorrow. Poor animal ! he had caught their 
 sympathy ; and whenever Annie patted his 
 sleek coat, he would wag his tail and whine, 
 but would not leave her side. 
 
 Evening came slowly on. The river dark- 
 ened in hue. The gorgeous sun in his descent 
 threw his parting rays through the massy trees, 
 crimsoning them as if their leaves were formed 
 of fire. Dark forms seemed to grow out of 
 the distance, assuming fantastic shapes as the 
 imao^ination chose to picture them. The
 
 THE PEDLAR. 217 
 
 bright flowers became paler, and closed their 
 petals. The surrounding foliage drooped ; 
 and the murmuring of the rapids grew louder. 
 The insects of eve began their hums and 
 croaks. Horns sounded from the distant vil- 
 lage, or neighbouring farm, calling the la- 
 bourers to the evening meal. Tinkliwg bells 
 of home -bound herds sounded near, and in 
 the distance ; and the halloo of the herdsman, 
 mingled w^ith the wind that freshened and 
 fanned pleasantly the cheeks of the enwrap- 
 ped pair as they lingered on their homeward 
 way. Owls hooted in the woods, and phea- 
 sants were flapping their wings on the trunks 
 of fallen trees, giving forth that singular 
 noise known by the name of " drumming," 
 and which came like distant thunder on the 
 ear. 
 
 Poor Annie's heart was full as they neared 
 the village. Her thoughts she could not 
 speak ; but since Clavering had announced 
 his departure, her gaiety had forsaken her, 
 
 L
 
 218 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 and she experienced a feeling, until then 
 entirely new. She could not explain it ; it 
 was as if a blight had fallen upon her young 
 heart, in her happiest moment. 
 
 The village smithy was blazing merrily as 
 they went by. The red glare shone all 
 around, and disclosed two brawny young men 
 toiling at the anvil, filling the air with their 
 rude voices in gleesome song. A horse under- 
 going the process of shoeing was snorting and 
 kicking as the sparks flew from the beaten- 
 red iron. Clavering and his fair companion 
 nodded to the good humoured blacksmiths, 
 who returned a smile and " good evening." 
 The younger one, after they had passed, rested 
 a moment from his toil, and said, " I'll tell 
 you what, Silas, I've never been able to sleep 
 a blessed night since that gal came into our 
 village ; her eyes have lit a fire in this heart 
 of mine that'll never be quenched." 
 
 " You don't talk as much as you used,'' re- 
 turned the other, who was a married man,
 
 THE PEDLAR. 219 
 
 " my old woman hears you talking in the 
 night sometimes ; won't do, Silas, she's 'bove 
 us rude uns." 
 
 Presently the little log-built but neat look- 
 ing cottage appeared in view. It seemed a 
 comfortable place, for since the newly arrived 
 family had resided there, a garden hbd been 
 laid out, and flowers planted — English ones ; 
 and flowering creepers had been made by 
 Annie, to trail up the windows and over the 
 porch. There was Mr. Brainsoft at the door, 
 smoking his pipe, and enjoying the cool 
 breeze. His face, lately emaciated from his 
 recent illness, was becoming gradually rounder 
 and rounder, and promised soon to excel in 
 colour his fine red nose. There was a good 
 honest smile on the old man's face. As they 
 drew near, he rose from his seat and welcomed 
 them heartily; but when Annie said, "Father, 
 Mr. Jordan," — for by that name, the Pedlar 
 had been known to Mr. Brainsoft — '* leaves us 
 to-morrow ;" the worthy man dropped his pipe
 
 220 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 and looked confounded ; and \\e must say, 
 gave vent to a stronger expression than we 
 may use. Hastening along the village to- 
 wards the same dwelling with tremendous 
 strides, came the gigantic black, with his hat 
 placed on one side, his visage screwed up to a 
 droll expression of glee and satisfaction, and 
 singing lustily ; and as the Newfoundland dog 
 bounded up to him, with one playful touch of 
 his arm he turned him right over, and laugh- 
 ing, with his own thick-toned but peculiarly 
 merry laugh, exclaimed — 
 
 " 'Nuff 0* dat. Sambo, — good boy dog ; jist 
 look here, big letters for massa, what tink ob 
 dat now Sambo 1 no lariin ; I neber see sich a 
 a tail as your's is to wag, — locomotive noting 
 to it ? Wonder whar dese all cub from ;" said 
 Carolina to himself, bearing under his arm 
 a large package of letters which he had just 
 got from the post. ** I neber knowed massa 
 hab so much correspondent. Wish dat dear 
 soul I once knowed, name o^ Felicia, would
 
 THE PEDLAR. 221 
 
 write dis nigger few lines. Here, massa," he 
 cried, as he came in view of him, " letters, 
 massa, from New York ; — sing'lar ting so 
 many letters, massa !" 
 
 " No remarks, sir,'^ said the Pedlar, taking 
 the parcel with evident satisfaction from his 
 man ; " get ready for a start to-morrov/.^^ 
 
 The negro was startled at this unexpected 
 announcement of his master's sudden depar- 
 ture. 
 
 " Whar go to, massa V exclaimed the ne- 
 gro, opening his large eyes in astonishment. 
 
 "We leave here for good," replied the 
 Pedlar, shortly. 
 
 " Now, can't make dat out," said Carolina, 
 with quite a look of bewilderment — '' leabe 
 Massa Brainsap ! Missie Brainsap, and Miss 
 Burling" 
 
 " Silence ! Carolina," interrupted his mas- 
 ter, with a feeling akin to displeasure. 
 
 " Dat's jist like it," remarked the negro, 
 *' neber tink one's goin' to liab some good
 
 222 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 time ; — neber see coloured gal dat might lub 
 dis nigger, but hab to go ; —and massa neber 
 fix his 'fections but" 
 
 " Will you have done 1" cried the Pedlar, 
 harshly; *' Carolina, don't offend me.' 
 
 " Me no 'fend," blubbered the poor man, 
 evidently much distressed. *^Me lub massa 
 more dan self, — no care for self, — me die wid 
 great pleasure serb massa, but me no able to 
 Serb massa by die. Oh ! lor a golly !" 
 
 " Carolina," said the Pedlar, laying his 
 hand upon the shoulder of the black, and 
 stepping further into the road that he might 
 be out of hearing of the family ; " I'm aware 
 that you love me, and in return I hold you in 
 the deepest esteem ; let that suffice, and con- 
 trol your feelings for your master's sake ; your 
 heedless v^^ords may cause pain to others, — 
 and," continued he, perceiving that the negro 
 was becoming calmer — *' mend Sambo's ken- 
 nel, for when I am gone I should still like the 
 poor dog to sleep in a house of your making." 
 
 The effect of these last words of the Pedlar
 
 THE PEDLAR 223 
 
 was such as to make the negro start back as 
 if struck with a musket ball, or seized by a 
 rattle-snake. He looked about him wildly for 
 a moment, his face assuming a piteous expres- 
 sion ; — his coloured lips growing ashy in hue 
 — and his brawny mahogany-looking fists 
 clasped, his whole frame shaking with intense 
 emotion. 
 
 The Pedlar was amazed — he had not ex- 
 pected this. 
 
 " Carolina," he said, " I leave him with your 
 favourite Annie, that he may remind her of 
 us. 
 
 For a few minutes the negro seemed to have 
 lost the power of speech. At length a deep 
 sigh broke from his tremendous chest, which 
 changed into a melancholy howl, as if his soul 
 was overwhelmed with irreparable grief and 
 despair. Another minute, and he seized the 
 dog and hugged him, exclaiming passionately — 
 
 " What ! take Sambo ! — Sambo take from 
 me! no, — no, — can't part wid him, — no.
 
 224 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 neber ! Oh ! no, massa ! Sambo say he go 
 wid me ; — him lub Carolina like em bruder, — 
 can't leabe him ; — no, neber ! poor kind soul 
 ob a dog ! him neber once bite him frien' 
 Caro; — him lick Caro;~him kiss him ebery 
 morning ; — me feed him wid best tings, — him 
 always say tankee ; — oh ! massa, massa, dis 
 nigger can't leabe Sambo ! Aint he been 
 ebery whare wid us ? — up hill, — down dale, — 
 in coach, boat, an' house ; didn't he lub dat 
 child, and we, — we lub'd him ; we make him 
 collar ob flowers, and we make him little sad- 
 dle for Maude — dat dear little gal — to ride 
 on." 
 
 " Oh, heavens !'* said the Pedlar, grasping 
 Carolina by his coat, and staggering again 
 under the renewed recollection of his bereave- 
 ment, — " oh, heavens ! Carolina, have pity on 
 me !" 
 
 A light form emerged from the dwelling. 
 It was Annie, who, from a window above, had 
 witnessed this scene. Throwing a shawl over
 
 THE PEDLAR. 225 
 
 her head, she rushed out full of alarm, and 
 laying her hand on the Pedlar ^s shoulder, 
 said ; — 
 
 " Mr. Clavering, Mr. Clavering, this must 
 not be. Carolina, the dog, shall go with you. 
 Come in, Mr. Clavering, — dear Mr. Clavering," 
 she ventured ; — and yielding to her solicita- 
 tions, Clavering, though much agitated, 
 followed Annie into the cottage. 
 
 Some villagers, attracted by the gestures 
 and exclamations of the excited negro, had 
 congregated around ; three or four huge curs 
 jealous of the attachment shown to his fa- 
 vourite, looked on a moment, and then slunk 
 away — perhaps wishing they Avere as well 
 cared for. Carolina caressed the dog and 
 would not leave him, but continued talking to 
 him in a strain of rapture that disclosed the 
 affectionate heart of the half-tutored slave. 
 
 Sambo displayed his attachment by placing 
 his large paws on the negro's shoulder, and 
 licking his face repeatedly, whilst big tears 
 crawled down his sagacious countenance- Ah !
 
 226 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 this poor dog had the same affection for black, 
 as for white ; he knew no difference of colour; 
 — a fit lesson for many human beings. 
 
 Carolina continued his caresses for some 
 time ; at length the poor fellow arose ex- 
 hausted ; but not before he had tied his hand- 
 kerchief round the dog's collar ; and as he 
 entered his sleeping apartment, — a small tem- 
 porary shanty which he had built himself,— 
 he made Sambo go in before him, and cried, 
 "You no part ; — dare, now be good dog. You 
 know well as me dat massa no safe widout 
 you ; dat massa too good man to hab only one 
 boy look after him; no, me no forget how you 
 pull down robber in state ob ole Kentuck ; 
 no, no, massa good strong man, — nigger strong 
 man, — but ole, — good ole Sambo, — him berry 
 much stronger. Dare now, good dog, — don't 
 cry ; — now, you said you wouldn't, you know'd 
 you did. I no 'spect you if you cry ; — dis ole 
 soul can't bear Sambo cry; — dare now, you 
 hear me, — or I cross ; — you lie on dat sheep's
 
 THE PEDLAR 227 
 
 skin, — dare's good dog ; aint ye glad missie 
 gib you back agin ] God bless dat gal, — she 
 beauty ; I do lub dat gal ; me only wish me 
 massa, — dat all; — I know what dis nigger do. 
 Good-bye, Sambo. I no long away. Wag 
 em tail,— dare good feller; — lie soft anuif. 
 Sambo '? I bring you mighty big bore pre- 
 sently ; dose bones you hab last night nuffen 
 to em ; lor ! a golly ! tink massa do widout 
 dat are animal ! I nebber allow it, so long as 
 dis nigger and dat dog lib, we lib togedder; — 
 'sides, massa no safe widout em !" 
 
 The last evening the Pedlar spent with the 
 family passed away tolerably well, notwith- 
 standing a shade of sadness settled upon 
 them, in consequence of his unlooked lor and 
 sudden departure — for all loved that worthy 
 man, and could not endure the thoughts of 
 parting with their benefactor. The Pedlar 
 could scarcely blame his attendant ; indeed, 
 he was pleased at the display of feeling he 
 had shown in his attachment to the faithful
 
 228 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 animal; and ere he left the apartment, the 
 negro was assured that the dog was still to 
 accompany them in their wanderings ; but 
 Carolina kept him in his room all night, and 
 several times in his broken slumbers, would he 
 look up from his straw mattress and call 
 alarmed ly upon Sambo, who would answer 
 with a bark of recognition and delight. 
 
 When the Pedlar retired to his room he 
 opened the packet of letters, the contents of 
 which appeared to afford him much satisfac- 
 tion. His candle burnt in the socket, flick- 
 ered, and went out. The moon shone full in 
 at his little window. He opened the lattice 
 and gazed on the scene. To his sight, it was 
 a very solemn one that met his gaze. The 
 full moon rose unclouded in the deep blue 
 heavens, surrounded by her attendant gems 
 twinkling, and gleaming, and shooting into 
 endless space. The village stood in full relief 
 in the clear moonlight. There was the road- 
 side inn with its lights flitting to and fro
 
 THE PEDLAR. 229 
 
 as the inmates were about retiring for the 
 night, the last convivial one having departed. 
 There were the scattered dwellings, which 
 though straggling and mean in appearance by 
 day, looked beautiful in the moonbeams; — 
 the saw-mill, — the smithy, — the village school- 
 house, all standing so peacefully in the midst 
 of their gardens or partial clearings; and a 
 small lake, whose waters were seen glistening 
 amidst some distant trees. There meandered 
 the silver river, glittering and sparkling, and 
 reflecting the mighty woods that bordered it 
 in its shadowy depths. Its lulling sound, as 
 it murmured over its pebbly bed, came sooth- 
 ingly and sweetly to the Pedlar's ear, and 
 seemed to breathe peace into his disturbed 
 mind. Ills heart was full of emotion. He 
 turned his thoughts inwardly, and ruminated 
 upon himself, — and on those with whom he 
 at present dwelt. He thought how unsuited 
 was the place to the refinement of Annie 
 Burlington, — his sister, — he loved that word
 
 230 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 sister, — or he seemed to do so, — for he ap- 
 peared to have a melancholy satisfaction in 
 repeating it. 
 
 He was intently gazing upon the brilliant 
 landscape without, when a sound broke upon 
 his ear that caused him to start. He leaned 
 his head out of the window to listen, the cool 
 breeze played about his hair, and fanned his 
 fevered brow. 
 
 A rich mellow voice broke in song upon the 
 solemn stillness that reigned around ; all na- 
 ture seemed to have hushed its usual sounds 
 to catch this newly-awakened melody. 
 
 In tones of touching sweetness, accompanied 
 by a lute, the following words were breathed. 
 They rose, — and dwelt, — and died away in the 
 air, as if sent forth by some hovering spirit. 
 Deeply they sunk into the heart of Claver- 
 ing, — for there, out of the little latticed win- 
 dow he leaned, and listened, entranced. There 
 was another sound that kept time with the 
 melody; — it was the beating of his heart.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 231 
 
 The voice was that of Annie Burlington, who, 
 like the Pedlar, full of melancholy feeling, 
 had long watched the night, unconscious that 
 Clavering was watching also. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Oh ! bear me away from this dreary spot, 
 
 Away to my own bright home ;— 
 To the jessamine bower, the vine clad cot, 
 Where in careless glee, — oh ! happy lot ! 
 
 My childhood loved to roam. 
 
 For the lonely desert is not for me, 
 
 And the wind as it sweeps along 
 Through the blighted boughs of the forest tree, 
 In its dirge-like wailing sounds to me. 
 
 Like a plaintive funeral song. 
 
 Oh ! I lack the breath of the perfum'd flowers 
 
 That bloom in their beauty there ;— 
 And oh ! how joyously pass'd the hours. 
 When I dream'd of love in the rosy bowers, — 
 
 But I pine — and I languish here. 
 
 How I envy the lot of the forest child 
 
 That has view'd yon gloomy lake,— 
 With a passionate love for her lonely wild, 
 And deem'd that upon her the desert smiled.— 
 
 With a joy I may not partake !
 
 232 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 Oh ! had I ne'er g-az'd on the purple dye 
 
 Of the hyacinth-peopled glen,— 
 I never had turn'd with a mournful eye, 
 Nor long'd to look on the twilight sky, 
 
 In my own bright home again ! 
 
 At the conclusion of the melody he heard a 
 window shut near his own. For a time he 
 listened, in the hopes of catching again the 
 voice of the invisible songstress, — but it arose 
 no more. Clavering at length closed the lat- 
 tice, and though soon buried in the pure white 
 sheets that lined his couch, he slept not till 
 the first glimmerings of day touched the 
 eastern horizon. 
 
 The sun arose next morning in its un- 
 clouded radiance, and all nature rejoiced 
 under its influence. After pressing a package 
 into the hands of Mrs. Brainsoft as a parting 
 gift, — which was afterwards found to contain 
 a hundred silver dollars, — and bidding the 
 grateful family an affectionate farewell, the 
 Pedlar and the negro, accompanied by the
 
 THE PEDLAR. 233 
 
 dog, took their leave, keeping their destination 
 secret. 
 
 Annie Burlington bade adieu to their kind 
 benefactor alone. She watched from the 
 eminence on which the cottage was situated 
 the fast disappearing forms of her old friend 
 Clavering, — alias the Pedlar, — with his pack, 
 and rifle, — the worthy, kind-hearted Carolina, 
 his servant, — and the well-loved dog, the 
 friend of both. When Annie's straining eyes 
 could no longer see them, she sought a lonely 
 spot in the deep woods, and gave vent to her 
 grief for their departure, in repeated floods of 
 tears. 
 
 " Massa," said the negro, to the Pedlar, 
 when they had lost sight of the home of those 
 he had saved from destruction, — '' Massa, — 
 don't weep." 
 
 But a tear or two occasionally fell from the 
 eyes of the white trader as he strode quickly 
 onwards, nervously grasping his stout stick. 
 He spoke not for hours.
 
 234 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 Annie did not return to her home until 
 late in the evening. Her father, thinking she 
 had gone to tea with some acquaintance, had 
 long before composed himself in his easy chair, 
 with his favourite pipe in his mouth, and a 
 fine cat on his knee ; and he, too, was deep ir 
 thought, regarding the extraordinary Pedlar. 
 
 The mother, as she undressed her little ones 
 for their comfortable beds, still grieved for her 
 poor boy who slept his last sleep in the back- 
 woods of America, — and she breathed an 
 inward prayer for the prosperity of their late 
 generous friend. Annie's night was disturbed. 
 In the morning her sister Amelia, with whom 
 she always slept, said, " Annie, you were cry- 
 ing so in your sleep, — and kept saying, 
 * Clavering !' " 
 
 For a season we must leave this family 
 comparatively comfortable as they now are, 
 though having paid bitterly for a first wrong 
 step ; also the worthy and mysterious Pedlar, 
 who is again on his pilgrimage ; — and hasten
 
 THE PEDLAR. 235 
 
 to depict the career of another emigrant 
 family, who, by the proper exercise of judg- 
 ment, and a steady adherence to its dictates, 
 made a far better choice of settlement, and 
 became delighted with the promised land, and 
 their truly happy home.
 
 236 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 We have now to speak of a family superior 
 in point of station to the Brainsofts, yet who, 
 like them, were destined to seek a home far 
 from the land of their nativity. 
 
 Daniel Marlton was born in the county 
 of Durham, and descended from a highly 
 respectable family. Having married rather 
 early in life an accomplished woman — the 
 daughter of an officer in the army, he was 
 constrained to try his fortune amongst men 
 with but a very small fortune of his own, in- 
 creased but little by the still smaller one which 
 his fair lady brought him. He was of stately 
 bearing and demeanour ; and on his expansive
 
 THE PEDLAR. 237 
 
 forehead intelligence and generosity were 
 broadly marked. His countenance was ex- 
 ceedingly prepossessing ; and a feeling heart 
 beat beneath his bosom. He possessed good 
 business habits, and having been instructed in 
 agriculture on his father's farm, he had so pro- 
 fited by his opportunities of observation, as to 
 be an excellent judge of cattle, and of every 
 species of live stock common to a large estate ; 
 to which knowledge, at a future day, when far 
 from his native land, he was much indebted 
 for his subsequent success. 
 
 Daniel Marlton, with all his perfections, 
 was rather partial to good living, and had 
 somewhat enlarged ideas of hospitality ; and 
 very often the profits arising from his farm and 
 speculations were insufficient to cover the ex- 
 penses of his household, and of his fast in- 
 creasing family. A noble-hearted fellow, 
 however, he was ; a lover of all the old 
 English sports, which give to the hardy sons 
 of Albion, sinew, nerve, and muscle, making
 
 238 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 them men of chivalrous feeling and high 
 daring ; who are ready when called upon on 
 behalf of their country to exercise the arts 
 they have acquired from our good manly cus- 
 toms ; to exchange the hunter for the charger ; 
 the fowling piece for the rifle ; and, though 
 nurtured in what many would call luxury, en- 
 dowed with strength and energy capable of 
 enduring toil and hardship as they have 
 ever bravely done, amid the changeful scenes 
 of war. Such a man was our friend Marlton, 
 although fortune never called into action, in 
 his case, powers of the precise kind above 
 mentioned ; yet the qualities of decision, forti- 
 tude, and courage, which would have made the 
 skilful soldier, were displayed in another field, 
 enabling him to bear up against domestic 
 calamity and continued reverses, and to become 
 eventually successful in the path which he was 
 destined to pursue. At the death of his 
 parents, to his surprise, no effects were forth- 
 coming, as he had expected. Some specu-
 
 THE PEDLAR. 239 
 
 lations he had engaged in ultimately failed ; 
 though, for many years, he managed to con- 
 tend with his bad fortune. He was all this 
 time courted by numerous friends, many of 
 whom supposed that he must long ago have 
 reaped a good harvest, though he was ever 
 silent about his gains, and for a very good 
 reason, he had never made any of importance. 
 He had a family of seven interesting children, 
 who, though indulged, were not spoiled by 
 their parents' fondness. In course of time, 
 however, his difficulties increased, and ere he 
 made his wife acquainted with his circum- 
 stances, he was almost overwhelmed by the 
 apprehension of future calamity. Alas ! the 
 intelligence could no longer be concealed from 
 his partner. And did she sink under the 
 affliction, as her husband had feared she would 
 do, when he informed her they were all 
 but penniless ; that she must remove from her 
 comfortable home ; that she and her eldest 
 daughter, accomplished in all that renders
 
 240 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 woman fascinating, wi^h the rest of their 
 carefully nurtured ones, must change it for 
 humble lodgings ? No ! woman's transcendent 
 powers of fortitude and action in adversity 
 shone forth conspicuously. With her satins 
 and silks went her care for ease and luxury. 
 She felt deep gratitude to Providence that her 
 husband, though greatly depressed, still re- 
 tained his health, and that her family also en- 
 joyed its blessings. Her sympathy and coun- 
 sel enabled her husband to wTcstle with the 
 fast-thickening trouble ; and Marlton, relieved 
 from that worst of evils, debt, left his country, 
 to his infinite satisfaction, a free and inde- 
 pendent man, whom adversity had softened, 
 not crushed, though all but one or two friends 
 had kept aloof, rendering no assistance, for- 
 getting, by some singular revulsion of memory, 
 that Daniel Marlton still existed. 
 
 Leaving his wife and family in apartments 
 in the city of London, Marlton set off on his 
 journey with his daughter, to the United
 
 THE PEDLAR. 241 
 
 States, for the same purpose as that of our 
 worthy acquaintance of Mr. Brainsoft, to 
 establish a new home in the forests of the 
 western world. Fortunately, he had friends, 
 who welcomed himself and daughter in New 
 York ; a highly respectable family, who had 
 emigrated many years before, and were in 
 prosperous circumstances. He was not long 
 in finding a place of temporary settlement. 
 It happened, that one of the parties who had 
 so kindly welcomed him to the shores of the 
 new world, had a farm, which he was about 
 to relinquish for some time, to attend to a 
 business in the city. The farm was offered to 
 Marlton, at a trifling rent, and he gladly ac- 
 cepted it. He soon after dispatched a letter 
 to England to announce the good news to his 
 family, and request them to hasten their de- 
 parture. He experienced at last comparative 
 ease of mind, and was happier than he had 
 been for many long years, during which he 
 
 M
 
 242 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 had seen the shadow of impending ruin 
 hovering over him. Mrs. Marlton received 
 the intelligence with delight, and with 
 much alacrity prepared for her voyage to 
 America.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 243 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 How different are the feelings of the old 
 and young on leaving for ever their native 
 land ! What heartfelt associations of happy 
 days arise in the breast of those who are past 
 the meridian of life ! How bitterly some, 
 who have met with more of sorrow than of 
 bliss, view in retrospection those airy castles 
 constructed in their young dreams of romance, 
 having no solid foundations — piles upon piles 
 of fantastic and golden architecture, rising on 
 mountain tops radiant with hope, which re- 
 vealed to their enthusiastic imaginations pros- 
 pects clothed in sunlight and abounding with 
 beauty ! All these unsubstantial structures of
 
 244 
 
 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 sanguine fancy have vanished, and are over- 
 whelmed in the gulf of stern and bitter reality, 
 leaving the disappointed architect to mourn 
 over their destruction. Still, however, when 
 viewing the fast-retreating shores of their 
 country, these victims of disappointment bid 
 her farewell with regret. Their unpleasant 
 remembrances, if any, quickly die away ; their 
 sorrows become deadened by fast-speeding 
 time ; and the little happiness they have found 
 in what was once their home, stands out pro- 
 minently in their recollection amid the gloom, 
 and touches the despairing heart with a light- 
 ning ray of hope. Every one, and all, in 
 middle age — who leave a home where their 
 affections were centered — where they passed 
 their youthful days — in the sweet society of 
 the one they loved — where, perhaps, the lit- 
 tle ivy-grown church peeps forth in the midst of 
 a highly-cultivated country, in which hallowed 
 sanctuary they pledged their mutual vows — 
 where infant after infant appeared to bless
 
 THE PEDLAR. 245 
 
 them with its prattle — where year after year 
 they watched its progress — and where all their 
 earliest and dearest associations were gathered 
 — experience the bitterest throes of anguish 
 when they bid adieu to it, perchance, for ever. 
 No matter that those friends whom they may 
 have benefitted to their own disadviiUtage, 
 slighted, blamed them, and kept aloof; — their 
 minds, for a time, are bent under the same 
 despairing influences as when a mother loses 
 her favourite son ; or, as when a son suddenly 
 sees the arm chair for ever vacant, where an 
 honoured parent once sat and blessed him. 
 There is no expression to these feelings 
 that absorb the soul ; silence is their floodgate, 
 and time their all-powerful balm. How dif- 
 ferent the feelings experienced by the youthful 
 traveller ! The mere idea of seeing a new and 
 distant region is sufficient to banish all present 
 impressions of his own ; and his thoughts 
 of future happiness expand as he finds himself 
 upon the wide blue sea. He can hardly con-
 
 246 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 trol his impulsive emotions of eagerness to be- 
 hold a land of whose wonders he has perhaps 
 often read in the thrilling tale, or the magic 
 page of history. 
 
 When, too, the glorious sun shines upon the 
 broad Atlantic — when seas roll equi-distant 
 from the voyager's late home and the new one 
 — then the mind begins to view the past as a 
 dream, and looks only forward. Hope shines 
 in the sun, as it sets in the direction of the 
 long wished for western world ; in the moon, 
 as she rises, smiles of encouragement are 
 detected ; and in the twinkle of every radiant 
 star of the canopy of heaven, hope alone to the 
 enthusiastic vision is seen to gleam. 
 
 The poor untutored emigrant feels himself 
 now in buoyant spirits ; he is bound for the 
 country where he will meet the reward of his 
 toil ; where, by industry he may, and in fact, 
 is sure to become independent, and earn a 
 homestead of his own. And oh ! the revul- 
 sion of thought and feeling that actuates
 
 THE PEDLAR. 247 
 
 the breast of all, when first the misty shores 
 of the promised land are discernible, and the 
 perils of the deep are passed ! Friends seem 
 to regard each other with double fondness. 
 The ship assumes her best garb, rendering her 
 worthy of the sight of those who are ready to 
 hail her expected appearance, and trips it 
 lightly over the dancing waters to the sound of 
 song and merry minstrelsy — the music of the 
 scented winds — and the land-bird's rushing 
 wing. 
 
 Forth from the cabin of an American 
 packet ship, now gallantly nearing the head- 
 lands of the new continent, comes the self- 
 satisfied looking captain, and ascends the 
 quarter-deck, with his face one glad smile, 
 his hands extended to receive the hearty shake 
 of those who are waiting to congi-atulate him. 
 Some scarce know how to restrain their enthu- 
 siasm, so delighted do they appear ; and many 
 a good humoured cabin passenger, as he ob- 
 serves the throng of emigrants crowding the
 
 248 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 forepart of the vessel, deigns to hazard with 
 some of them a word or two of friendly re- 
 mark. The captain, after having exchanged 
 a variety of compliments with his female pas- 
 sengers, speaks to the helmsman, and strides 
 hastily round the vessel, looking with a scruti- 
 nizing eye at the points of the magnificent 
 craft he proudly commands. All hands are 
 still busy with various devices to beautify and 
 set her ofi^ to the best advantage, and now, 
 with every sail spread to the freshening wind, 
 she glides like a majestic swan through the 
 calm wave, with a sound scarcely audible, 
 dashing from her bows the clear transparent 
 spray. The flag of the stars and stripes is 
 floating from the topmast, and the music of a 
 solitary bugle, played with considerable skill, 
 sends its notes over the clear expanse, filling 
 many a heart with the recollections of home 
 and its associations, not unmingled with a 
 slight feeling of melancholy. 
 
 After the gallant commander has found all
 
 THE PEDLAR. 249 
 
 "taut" about his sea-home ; hurried one sailor 
 here, another there, whilst the mates are 
 watching his keen glances, and hoping for de- 
 served approval of their endeavours to render 
 the vessel worthy of the harbour and the city 
 she is speeding to so merrily ; after a kind 
 word to one emigrant, and a consoling one to 
 another, he wends his way to a part of the 
 deck where an interesting looking group is 
 assembled. 
 
 Although the persons composing this party 
 were steerage passengers, none of the common 
 emigrants intruded themselves upon their pri- 
 vacy ; for all saw in the aristocratic looking 
 woman, the mother — that circumstances alone 
 had constrained her to make her voyage in the 
 steerage, for in her countenance, was that in- 
 definable trace which spoke of gentle origin. 
 Our readers will guess who these emigrants 
 were ; none other than Mrs. Mar It on and 
 her young family, on their way to meet
 
 250 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 the husband and father in New York. The 
 captain, with a countenance doubly affable, 
 approached the charming group, and taking 
 the hand of the mother, shook it heartily ; 
 whilst Mrs. Marlton, thankful for much con- 
 sideration and attention during the voyage, 
 looked upon him with gratitude, and returned 
 the good man's congratulation. 
 
 " Madam," he said, with much deference in 
 his manner, *' it gives me the highest pleasure 
 and gratification to see you looking so well, 
 and the young ones too ; God bless them. I 
 am sure," exclaimed he, glancing at the 
 youngest, a smiling creature, with dark eyes 
 and bashful countenance, " that if you don't 
 keep your eye upon that dear little thing, 
 I shall steal her ; and she shall call me her 
 papa ! ha ! ha ! Don't you think, my dear," 
 said he, taking up the bashful child, whose 
 face became suffused with crimson, " that I 
 should be a very nice papa ? you don't want to 
 see your papa, do you ?"
 
 THE PEDLAR. 251 
 
 " You'd be a pretty papa, sir, but I must 
 have my own papa too." 
 
 " Oh ! you wouldn't like two papas !" 
 
 ** Yes, I should ; shouldn't you, mamma ? 
 dis papa could stay at home and take care of 
 you, while de oder papa went to build us a 
 house in de woods." 
 
 She spoke this so winningly that the captain 
 caught her to his breast, calling her a little 
 treasure ; he then gave a word of encourage- 
 ment to the whole family, and said, that 
 as they were so near home, he should insist 
 on their partaking of a dinner of his own pro- 
 viding ; and an excellent one, including a bot- 
 tle of wine, was afterwards sent down to their 
 apartment, which was separated from the rest 
 of the steerage, and was comfortably fur- 
 nished. 
 
 On the former part of the voyage, Mrs. 
 Marlton had been somewhat melancholy, but 
 the repeated kindness received from the cap- 
 tain, who became interested in herself and
 
 252 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 family, soon after their departure from 
 England, rendered her, to some extent, forget- 
 ful of her sorrows, and lightened her heart of 
 much afflicting thought. The wind being 
 fresh and favourable, they, in a short time, 
 passed the headlands of the Jersey coast. 
 The afternoon was fine, and the scenes pre- 
 sented to the eye were novel, ever varying, and 
 highly picturesque. It was the month of Oc- 
 tober, and the season had been busy wdth 
 every kind of tree, painting the foliage of some 
 of them with crimson, yellow, bro\Mi, and 
 various other colours, rendering the landscape 
 fairy-like to the view of the strangers. 
 
 Mrs. Marlton, who keenly appreciated the 
 beautiful in nature, was now in her element. 
 The associations of home and other scenes, for 
 a time, had vanished ; and she seemed happy 
 in the enjoyment of the present hour, coupled 
 as it was with the prospect of future comfort. 
 She sat with her children near the forepart of 
 the vessel, watching the approach of a pilot-
 
 THE PEDLAR 253 
 
 boat, which, from a mere white speck, was 
 speedily assuming the shape of a trim-built 
 clipper, cutting swiftly through the small 
 waves, and flinging from her sharp bows 
 showers of white foam. The bustle created 
 by the pilot's coming on board being over, 
 Mrs. Marlton surveyed with much interest the 
 rough weather-beaten American, all fresh from 
 the shore, with a smart exterior, cigar in 
 mouth, and hat well thrown back upon his 
 straight-haired pate ; who, to complete his 
 equipment as '^ a genuwine Yankee," wore a 
 pair of red striped inexpressibles. She then 
 turned her eyes to the shore, viewing with in- 
 finite pleasure the different colours that en- 
 riched the scene, growing every instant more 
 vivid and extraordinary. Then appeared in 
 sight, white frame-built villas and hotels, em- 
 bedded in foliage ; cattle and sheep were feed- 
 ing in the pastures ; and beyond these arose 
 the higher lands, crowned to the summit with 
 dense forests.
 
 254 ^ THE PEDLAR. 
 
 On danced the noble ship, and the scene 
 expanded more widely around. Villages, in 
 the midst of luxuriant but autumnal tinted 
 vegetation, and busy with life of all kinds, 
 greeted the eye. On the tops of the distant 
 green pines that bounded the view on one side, 
 the fast fading luminary cast his parting rays, 
 and they gleamed like a mass of fire. Scarcely 
 had they assumed their natural hues when 
 there arose, as if by magic, the round-faced 
 and brilliant moon. One by one the stars 
 took their usual nightly places in the firma- 
 ment, and began their twinkling gambols 
 above the vessel, now speeding her way through 
 the waters, which glittered in every ripple with 
 myriads of spangles. As the moon ascended, 
 she threw her silvery mantle over the wave, 
 as if to welcome the good ship home again, 
 and grace her approach to the emporium of 
 the western world. 
 
 For some hours Mrs. Marlton sat gazing on 
 the scene. She felt hardly happy, yet little
 
 THE PEDLAR. 255 
 
 less than happy. Her past troubles broke 
 upon her mind less vividly ; and unmarked 
 kindnesses, long since received, recurred to 
 her memory, softening down the emotions 
 caused by the estrangement and heartlessness 
 of late friends. 
 
 All nature was tranquil. The only sounds 
 that broke upon the stillness of the evening 
 were the hoarse voice of the pilot, — the answer 
 of the seamen, — and the noise of steam-boats 
 occasionally darting past the mammoth vessel, 
 which was at length conveyed by the tow- 
 steamer to the quarantine quay, her place 
 of anchorao^e for the nio^ht. 
 
 Early on the ensuing morning, the ship was 
 again on her way towards the city. The pas- 
 sengers congregated on deck ; caps were ex- 
 changed for hats, pilot-coats abandoned, and 
 personal appearance seemed to be the main 
 consideration next to the delightful thought 
 of meeting with friends, and once again 
 treading the firm earth. As the noble vessel
 
 256 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 passed along the bay, all were interested in 
 the sights presented to their view. On one 
 side was Staten Island, with its beauty of 
 scene and prospect ; on the other Long Island, 
 with Greenwood cemetery, and its monuments 
 dotting that luxuriant abode of the dead. In 
 the centre of the bay stood Governor's Island, 
 having upon it a small fortress, from which the 
 flag of the United States waved gallantly 
 in the breeze. A band of music was heard 
 playing, and men in blue uniforms were moving 
 hastily about. There, between the North and 
 East rivers stood the city of New York, bril- 
 liant and peaceful beneath a smiling sun. In- 
 numerable vessels were anchored in the harbour, 
 and every few moments, steam-boats of gigan- 
 tic build, and splendid adornment, glided by, 
 presenting an animated and novel appearance 
 to our travellers, being of immense length, 
 and containing two decks, surrounded with 
 galleries, where well-dressed parties were pro- 
 menading. There, too, between the city of
 
 THE PEDLAR. 257 
 
 New York and Brooklyn, and Jersey city on 
 the other side, might be seen steam- ferry boats, 
 darting to and fro ; and onwards, in all their 
 pride saluting, in passing, the homeward-bound 
 vessel with a cheer, slowly wended their way to 
 the ocean, outward-bound monarchs of the sea, — 
 some to Liverpool, to London, to New Orleans, 
 to the West Indies, and others to various 
 ports in the remotest corners of the earth. To 
 complete the animating spectacle, the noise of 
 busy life resounded from amidst the spires, 
 the towering hotels^ the crowded wharves, and 
 the dense forests of masts ; and the song of the 
 sailors when weighing anchor previous to 
 sailing — of " Cheery man, cheery man, heigho 
 for England," — always interesting from its as- 
 sociations — was heard now above the steadily 
 increasing sound of a second Babel ; and gal- 
 lantly the ship rode into her place in the dock, 
 and touched the shore of the promised land. 
 
 At this moment a heavily laden packet- 
 ship was slowly leaving her moorings on her
 
 258 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 voyage for England. On her quarter-deck, 
 apart from the other passengers, stood a 
 gentleman distinguished from the rest by 
 his commanding height and aspect, giving 
 occasional directions to a respectably attired 
 negro, who was arranging some baggage. 
 
 " Now we're off, massa," exclaimed the 
 negro, looking delighted ;— " dis be mighty 
 sight, better dan dat voyage me took cross de 
 sea, in de dark hole ob de slave ship ; him 
 neber so glad in all em life as dis nigger is 
 now, massa ; me got mighty comfortable berth 
 alongside ob de steward ; dis nigger berry glad 
 now ; lor a golly ; Go see after Sambo now ; 
 he no like him house ; he scratch berry hard 
 at de bars to get out. Me quite gembleman 
 now, notin' at all to do, not at all, 'cept look 
 after massa ;"— and talking volubly to himself, 
 the negro left his master, and mingled with the 
 throng on the lower deck. 
 
 The latter turned, and saw that the vessel 
 was in the stream, and the steamboat towing 
 them towards the bay.
 
 THE PEDLAR 259 
 
 " At length for England," he said in an 
 under tone, and throwing his cloak over his 
 shoulder he surveyed the scene, apparently in 
 deep thought. 
 
 We shall not attempt to picture the joy of the 
 passengers of the newly arrived vessel — of their 
 meeting with their friends — or any other ful- 
 filment of deferred hope. All felt grieved 
 to leave the ship. When most of the passen- 
 gers had departed, the captain observed that 
 Mrs. Marl ton and her children still remained. 
 He kindly offered to send a messenger to her 
 friends, but shortly afterwards a vehicle 
 drove up to the dock, from which two persons 
 alighted. 
 
 One was Daniel Marlton. To his breast 
 he clasped his wife and children. They soon 
 bade adieu to the vessel, and found a hearty 
 welcome at the home of their acquaintance in 
 the city. 
 
 In a fortnight from that period, they were
 
 260 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 domiciled in a farm in New Town, some little 
 distance from New York, where their friends 
 paid them weekly visits. Some months rolled 
 over the heads of the happy family ; and Daniel 
 Marlton left them for a time, well provided 
 for, to seek some land in Canada where he 
 might found a home ; as heing a true son of 
 England, he wished to plant himself under her 
 powerful banner, and make his last resting 
 place on British soil.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 26 1 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 When Daniel Marlton set out on his ram- 
 bles, he felt himself in the position of a man 
 beginning, as it were, a second edition of life. 
 He endeavoured to efface from his mind the 
 recollection of his past troubles, and though 
 he could not boast of a pocket particularly 
 well lined, and was fully aware that his success 
 for the future depended entirely upon his own 
 head and hands ; yet, when he trod the steam- 
 boat on the Hudson river, he experienced a 
 sensation of freedom to which he had been 
 a stranger for many long years past. In his 
 inmost heart he thanked God that he possessed 
 a sound and robust constitution, that he wa^
 
 262 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 blessed with good health, and he determined 
 to avail himself of these advantages, aided by 
 the acute intelligence, and the little of " the 
 needful" he possessed, to make his way in the 
 toilsome life he had chosen. 
 
 To have seen Daniel Marlton, with his fine 
 tall figure, erect on the deck of the steam-boat 
 " North America," gazing with a quiet appre- 
 ciating glance at the splendid scenery of the 
 Hudson, through whose sparkling waters 
 the floating palace was making its way 
 with majestic motion ; to have seen his 
 clear blue eye beaming from beneath a finely 
 expanded forehead, one might have taken him 
 for an English gentleman of fortune, enjoying 
 with the gusto of refined taste and education, 
 a tour through the United States. He had 
 the tact of concealing his poverty from the 
 world ; and ever disclosed in his bearing and 
 demeanour the impress which nature had 
 given him; that "je ne sals quoV vA\\c\i in- 
 stinctively marks the man of breedino:.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 263 
 
 It was evening, when Marlton, with his 
 knapsack on his back, bade his New York 
 friends adieu, at the packet wharf. He em- 
 barked on board the steamer for Albany, pro- 
 ceeded to the cabin, unfastened his knapsack, 
 and placed it in his berth ; then walked 
 through a crowd of passengers to the upper 
 deck, where, in a comer alone, he indulged his 
 ruminations, and pondered upon the striking 
 scenery which, as the vessel speeded on, 
 spread out before him. 
 
 The fare to Albany, a distance of one hun- 
 dred and sixty miles, was then only two 
 shillings ; a fact which will astonish our 
 countrymen, who are in the habit of paying 
 high fares for short distances ; and when they 
 consider the difference of accommodation 
 between the steam-boats of America, and those 
 which ply on English rivers, it will appear 
 to them still more surprising. From the 
 farthest northern town of the United States, 
 to the sunny city of New Orleans, they are
 
 264 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 literally floating palaces ; both as regards their 
 exterior appearance and interior decorations. 
 
 Darkness soon enveloped the highlands, and 
 hid from our traveller the magnificent scenery 
 that still bounded the river ; and all that was 
 visible through the gloom was a flitting light 
 here and there, gleaming from country seats at 
 the foot of the mountains, or in little villages 
 by the water side. Marlton, therefore, retired 
 to his berth, and slept away the remainder 
 of the night, and remounted the deck in the 
 morning, just as the tin-covered domes and 
 white houses of the city of Albany appeared in 
 sight. He strapped his knapsack on his 
 back, grasped a stout stick in one hand, and 
 waited with eagerness the stopping of the 
 steamer at the city quay, from whence he 
 meant to seek out the canal path, and com- 
 mence his peregrinations. He soon bade adieu 
 to the Hudson river, and made his way through 
 a throng of divers kind of people ; business- 
 looking men flocking to the steam-boats, and
 
 THE PEDLAR. 265 
 
 porters looking after and bearing away the 
 luggage of those newly arrived. Numbers of 
 carriages were starting for the railway, and 
 canal boats. Bells were sounding ; steam 
 was bursting with terrific force from the valves 
 of engines ; shop shutters were disappearing 
 fast; hotel doors opening; negroes rushing 
 about, sleep still lingering on their eyelids ; 
 dogs chasing impertinent pigs from the doors 
 of their masters' dwelling-houses, causing a 
 most discordant din, which, mingling with the 
 noise of hard-driven flys rattling over the 
 badly-paved streets, produced a scene of con- 
 fusion that betokened the flowing of the tide 
 of busy life. 
 
 Our traveller, unheeding all, hastened to an 
 hotel ; and after partaking of a substantial 
 meal, making enquiries, and gaining some in- 
 formation that might be useful on his journey, 
 he bent his way towards the canal which 
 stretched from Albany to Oswego, in length 
 more than three hundred miles, the greater
 
 266 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 portion of which distance it was Marlton's in- 
 tention to traverse on foot. He pursued his 
 journey at the rate of about thirty or forty 
 miles a day ; sometimes walking, and occa- 
 sionally entering a canal-boat, where he passed 
 the night ; the whole expense being one half- 
 penny per mile, including a berth. At length 
 he arrived full of health and spirits at the 
 town of Oswego, which is beautifully situated 
 upon that mighty inland sea-lake Ontario. 
 
 Tired as he was from his long journey, yet 
 the aspect presented by the lake, as he looked 
 from the window of the hotel upon its eme- 
 rald coloured and rose-tinted waters reposing 
 in the glow of a declining sun, tempted him 
 to stroll to its margin and survey the tran- 
 quillizing scene. 
 
 Lighting a fragrant cigar, the tall English- 
 man walked leisurely towards the lake, the 
 sight of which called forth an expression of 
 admiration as he observed its apparently al- 
 most boundless expanse. Hardly a breath —
 
 THE PEDLAR. 267 
 
 representing the emblem of the glorious re- 
 public of which he was undoubtedly a mem- 
 ber. He wore a pair of high boots, the toes 
 of which exactly resembled in formation the 
 beak of a spoonbill, and in the owner's idea, 
 their cut was more than fashionable. His 
 complexion was dark and swarthy ; and it 
 seemed as though a colour had been daubed 
 over his visage to disguise it. 
 
 A smile was seated upon the odd one's 
 countenance, an impudent smile, calculated 
 to disturb the serenity or awaken the mirth of 
 any observer. 
 
 Marlton turned away from the odd appari- 
 tion, and tried to look unconcernedly at the 
 lake, and occupy himself with his own 
 thoughts ; but, unconsciously, his eyes wan- 
 dered back again towards those of the sallow- 
 looking individual, who immediately appre- 
 ciated the compliment by a knowing wink, 
 the meaning of which Marlton was at a loss 
 to divine.
 
 268 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 At length the owner of the curious visage 
 becoming somewhat impatient at his remaining 
 unnoticed, by dint of much inward effort, re- 
 marked ; 
 
 " Wal, stranger !" 
 
 Marlton pretended not to be aware that he 
 was addressed. The Yankee's smile changed 
 to a smart grin, and he puffed the smoke from 
 his lanky jaws as if his patience were venting 
 itself by that medium. 
 
 '* I guess," he said, " you air looking across 
 to the other diggins V nodding in the direction 
 of the lake. 
 
 Marlton seeing that he could not avoid 
 speaking, though very loth to do so, deter- 
 mined to check his impertinence, by returning 
 short unmeaning replies. 
 
 " Well, I guess that I am looking there." 
 
 " Whare's that, stranger !" 
 
 *' Just there," said Marlton. 
 
 The American's countenance underwent a 
 change, yet quickly assumed an expression of 
 self-conceit.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 269 
 
 " Why, I take it/* said he, " you air a 
 case." 
 
 " Oh !" said Marlton, '' the objective, I 
 reckon !" 
 
 " No offence, I trust 1" interrogated the 
 smiling one, becoming convinced that the 
 case in question was a hard case. 
 
 " Oh, none,'* said Marlton, smoking his 
 cigar quietly, and turning his eyes again from 
 the man to the scene before him. 
 
 " Goin* to settle hereabouts 1" 
 
 " I'm not exactly settled about it." 
 
 "You might do worse.** 
 
 '*0h!** 
 
 " Wal, I reckon so ; what do you think V 
 
 " At present," — returned the Englishman, 
 now somewhat amused with his companion, 
 yet determined to leave him as wise as he was 
 ere he encountered him, — '* I am entirely con- 
 centrating my thoughts upon the lovely 
 scenery around me." 
 
 The Yankee's smile of self-conceit returned 
 to his countenance ; for he congratulated him-
 
 270 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 self that his cleverness had drawn the last 
 long answer from the stranger, whom, for a 
 certain purpose, it was his design, if possible, 
 to '^ pump quite dry." 
 
 " Ah !" said the American, exultingly, 
 "we've got it all on our side; not a bit 
 of scene on the other/* 
 
 " What do you call the other side V 
 
 " Them British diggins, across this everlast- 
 in' lake." 
 
 " Oh ! indeed !" returned Marlton, with a 
 slight laugh, " that is news to me." 
 
 " Ah ! I guess you're a Canada man. 'Tar- 
 nal creation ! Now aint I right T' 
 
 Marlton smiled, while a satirical expression 
 played about his features. The American 
 pretended to look unconcerned, though really 
 breathless with expectancy. 
 
 " Wal,'* exclaimed he, " aint we boys good 
 at guessin' ? We ginerally hit the right nail 
 pretty smart on the head, don't we, Papi- 
 neau V
 
 THE PEDLAR. 271 
 
 " Eh ]" answered the Englishman, not pre- 
 cisely understanding what the word Papineau 
 meant ; not being aware, that at this time 
 Papineau was the name of one of the Cana- 
 dian agitators, a fierce opponent to the exist- 
 ing government. 
 
 The American, observing nothing particu- 
 larly confirmatory of his guessings, repeated, 
 with a force of expression very peculiar, 
 accompanied with a single nod, — Papi- 
 neau.^' 
 
 '* Papineau V answered Marlton, " Papi- 
 neau," he muttered, " ah ! I suppose some new 
 American term for smartness, — eh]'' 
 
 The American slowly arose, with an expres- 
 sion of dissatisfaction upon his face, mutter- 
 ing, " hi ! hi ! " in seeming confirmation of 
 Marlton's supposition, placed his hands deep 
 into his breeches pockets and strutted to and 
 fro, as if in despair of making anything of the 
 Britisher. 
 
 *' He's a strange being ! hell get nothhig
 
 272 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 out of me, though," whispered Marlton to 
 himself, as he watched the eccentric move- 
 ments of the pert questioner ; whilst more than 
 half his thoughts were rivetted on the beauti- 
 ful prospect which the lake and the surround- 
 ing land afforded. 
 
 " Wal, I'm extinctified if it aint a case !" 
 muttered he of the striped trousers, during 
 his hasty walk. 
 
 At length the American summoned up his 
 forces for another attack upon the seemingly- 
 impregnable fortress before him, so he re- 
 sumed his seat and said ; 
 
 '* This Indian summer's the season for en- 
 joyin' natur. Now, this air season's much 
 colder than the last, aint it V 
 
 This question, simple enough on ordinary 
 occasions, was the result of the propounder's 
 last five minutes' cogitation ; and was put for 
 the express purpose of finding out, by the re- 
 ply, whether the stranger had before enjoyed 
 a summer in the United States.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 273 
 
 " Why, I don't see much difference ; but I 
 prefer cold weather to warm.'* 
 
 " Wal, I calc'late Britishers dew in a gine- 
 ral way.'* 
 
 *' Do they V* said Marlton, to all appear- 
 ance, innocently. 
 
 Again the face of the American presented 
 a blank aspect, and he puffed away at his 
 short black pipe. 
 
 Marlton was chuckling to himself, amused 
 at the disconcerted manner of his inquisitor. 
 
 I must give him a little rope thought he of 
 the black pipe ; so, after a few moments, he 
 observed ; 
 
 " They say, about this location, that Guv'nor 
 Head's dead beat over in them air diggings." 
 
 *' Ah !" was the response. 
 
 " How V the rejoinder, and — " don't you 
 take !"— 
 
 " Snuff V interrogated Marlton. 
 
 " Wal, I'm blest !" exclaimed the fairly 
 astounded Yankee, measuring the Britisher
 
 274 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 with a scrutinizing look, as if doubtful whe- 
 ther he were really ignorant of his meaning, 
 or sharp enough to keep his own counsel. 
 
 '* Now, raly, don't you know who I mean !" 
 said he. 
 
 " I can't say that I know what you mean," 
 quietly returned Marlton. 
 
 ** Why, I don't mean nothing partic'lar ; 
 only that they say about here the Guv'nor 
 can't agree with the ginerality of the folks ; 
 that seems strange, I calc'late ; 'tarnal shame 
 folks is so rumpacious ; nothin' seems to satisfy 
 'em ; human natur's terrible perverse in a 
 gineral way ; still rights is rights, stranger, 
 pardonin' freedom between strangers, which 
 you and I now is ; I say rights is rights, and 
 that's the end of it." 
 
 *^ Certainly," said Marlton, *' there is no 
 doubt but you are right there, sir." 
 
 " Wal then, we can't allerse wonder at hu- 
 man natur's breaking out, when rights is 
 swamped."
 
 THE PEDLAR. 275 
 
 *' No doubt of it ;" was the Englishman's 
 short reply, getting a passing gleam of the 
 Yankee's object in so plying him with ques- 
 tions, and which were so impudently intruded 
 upon his privacy. 
 
 ** Stranger, I take you air a sensible man." 
 
 ** You flatter me," answered Marlton, se- 
 riously. 
 
 '• No ; fix me up in a musquito swamp if I 
 do ; but when I come across a man with star- 
 ling sense marked in his visage, it then sets 
 me a considerin' ; fact is, I like to meet with 
 a man of sense." 
 
 '* We meet with so few of those people in 
 the world that it really is an advantage to be 
 acquainted with such," observed Marlton. 
 
 " Why, that observation's first-rate," enrap- 
 turedly exclaimed the intruder ; '' M'Kcnzie, or 
 Papineau himself couldn't make a better. 
 He's a reg'lar fire eater that M'Kenzie, so 
 folks talk out west."
 
 276 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 " A kind of conjuror, I suppose !" Marl ton 
 quietly remarked. 
 
 " Wal, you aint wrong there no how ; he is 
 a sorter of a conjuror they say, and does go a- 
 head pretty strong ; they tell as how he beat 
 'em dead in the old country, and between you 
 and I and the door-post, I don't think he was 
 tea-totally wrong in his representings." 
 
 '* Really ;" said Marlton, endeavouring to 
 look interested, though in blissful ignorance, 
 or pretending to be so, of the subject of the 
 American's communication. 
 
 " Why, stranger, you seem to know no thin' 
 of politics, and yet you Englishers talk of 
 no thin else, they tell me, when you're at home.'' 
 
 '^ I'm not so well acquainted with English- 
 men's doings as you seem to be, my friend." 
 
 " No offence, sir ; if you aint neither an 
 Englisher nor a Britisher I'm sorry for it, 
 that's all." 
 
 *' Indeed, why so?"
 
 THE PEDLAR. 277 
 
 ** Because I've a feelin for the kind. I'm a 
 bit English myself. I'm proud of the blood. 
 I've know'd a good many worthy Britishers ; 
 fact is, I sympathise with 'em, 'specially when 
 I think they air kept down by kings, queens, 
 and lords, and all that kind o' calico, — and 
 chawed up by 'tarnal taxes." 
 
 ** Ah ! I see, my good friend, you're a true 
 republican ;" said the Englishman, hardly able 
 to refrain from administering to the Yankee 
 an admonishing cuff, as a hint for him to be a 
 little more respectful of his tory principles. 
 
 " Of course I am," warmly responded the 
 American ; '' warn't I born under the blessed 
 stars and stripes ? warn't I raised from a seed- 
 lin' on freedom's soil ? and though them that 
 took the trouble to raise me, never gave me 
 larnin', yet I feel a great respect for them, in- 
 asmuch as they planted this child here, — here ! 
 whare I can walk, talk, bawl, shout, and ex- 
 press my own sensible opinions, in the face of 
 all creation, — without fear of a darned king to
 
 278 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 set his foot on my neck. Now, if you'd ha* 
 been a Britisher, I wouldn't ha' said as much 
 as this ; but I'm rayther candid in a gineral 
 way, and I'm somewhat startled to find such a 
 fair-haired gent as you ain't a Britisher ; but I 
 never intrude myself on nobody, and if you 
 like to keep your own counsel, why Captain 
 Swindon ain't the man to pump you, I cal- 
 c'late." 
 
 " I calculate not," said the traveller, much 
 obliged for his delicate forbearance ; and won- 
 dering who or what gave Captain Swindon 
 a title so far above his present appearance and 
 language. 
 
 " Wal, what dew you think of me ?" con- 
 tinued the American. 
 
 " I think," returned Marlton, feeling the 
 most ineffable contempt for the questionable 
 individual calling himself Captain Swindon, — 
 *' I think you are rather too free in the expres- 
 sion of your opinions to one who is a stranger." 
 
 " Can't see it," returned he, ** nohow ;
 
 THE PEDLAR. 279 
 
 merely say I m glad I'm a son of freedom ; and 
 should like to see the man I'd call master, — 
 that's all. I see jou don't know nothin' of 
 what's going on over the lake ; but I could let 
 you into a secret now, if you'd just split a lit- 
 tle, and not be so 'tarnal close ; raly you ozr 
 close now, ain't you ?" 
 
 " Do you think so ?" replied Marlton ; " I'm 
 not given to much loquacity, therefore you'll 
 excuse me, I'm confident." 
 
 The American eyed the Englishman cu- 
 riously ; the Englishman stared at him ; both 
 continued smoking. After a short interval of 
 silence, which Captain Swindon saw Marlton 
 was not inclined to break, he observed ; 
 
 " You don't know how I feels for the poor 
 folks out yonder ; they're terrible used, I've 
 heard tell ; it's a pity, ain't it ?" 
 
 ** To what folk do you allude, my good 
 friend ? You must be more explicit ; for, 
 pardon me, you seem just to touch the edge of 
 things, and tlicn flv off at a tangent, as if the
 
 280 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 subjects were somewhat difficult to enter upon," 
 said Marlton, slowly. 
 
 Captain Swindon pricked up his ears at 
 this. He now attributed the other's reserve 
 to want of encouragement in himself, and de- 
 termined to launch out a little more, and trust 
 to fate to accomplish an iniquitous purpose 
 known to himself alone. 
 
 " You're not wrong thare ; some subjects 
 is rayther pitchy like," he answered grinning, 
 — " and it might be well, if you're thinkin' 
 of settlin' in the British territories, that I let 
 you into a little bit of a secret ; for somehow 
 I guess you air lookin' out for a location. 
 You don't wear the look of a trader, I reckon ; 
 you're too open-faced, I realize, for a lawyer ; 
 and not sober enough about the mouth for a 
 parson ; so takin all that into consideration, 
 you can't be nothin' but a land-seeker ; and if 
 that's the fact, why you have reason to bless 
 yourself that I was cast into your path." 
 
 " Pray explain," said Marlton, appearing
 
 THE PEDLAR. 281 
 
 particularly interested in the remarks of his 
 companion. 
 
 " Why, this is it, then ; you've only got to 
 say the word, and when the thing's cut and 
 dried, — all slick and spry, — you can have 300 
 acres of the best land in Canada, and 100 
 silver dollars besides, and there's no knowing 
 what you mightn't come to." 
 
 " Very likely," returned Marlton, *' no 
 knowing, certainly. Pray, sir, if I may be al- 
 lowed to put the question, what is the upshot 
 of all this ? The world certainly has changed 
 within a short time, when men all at once 
 become so liberal." 
 
 " Liberal ! you may say that ; all those that 
 ain't liberal are done slick ; I say it that knows 
 it. Wal, stranger, I'll let you into the upshot 
 of all this, and it'll spread the vital fluid over 
 your frame in a kinder perspiration like ^vhen 
 you hear how liberal we mean to be. We'll 
 set another example to them as sit in high 
 places ; — they'll topple down like the idols of
 
 282 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 Baal Scriptur' tells us about. It'll set all 
 Europe considerin ; I take it theyll look 
 darn d ugly. Ah ! I calculate you understand 
 things ; you're no unfledged chicken ; you're 
 no onder-baked goney ; you won't mind givin 
 a lift to the rael levellers ? I can guess that, 
 for you're a rael intelligent lookin' smart man 
 There's many a feller that you wouldn't suc- 
 cumb to at no price. 'Now just let a little 
 daylight into me, and tell me if there ain't ? " 
 
 The Yankee's face w^ore an insinuating ex- 
 pression. Marl ton now began to see in him 
 one of those restless and worthless individuals, 
 who were about that time spreading the most 
 pernicious opinions through the frontier towns 
 bordering the Canadas ; people, who with 
 nothing to stake or to lose, either of reputation 
 or property, were ready and eager to visit a 
 peaceable land with fire and sword ; and 
 actuated by a spirit of mischief, and the desire 
 of personal aggrandizement, to assist those 
 who were disaffected towards the British.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 283 
 
 " It's a fact. Now you take a friend's ad- 
 vice, and don't go thare nohow. Stop and 
 settle in our everlastin republic, whare you'll 
 be safe under that are flag that you see flyin 
 thare ; and if you feel like doin' a small chance 
 o' business with an honest trader, I'm your 
 man. I've just set up in this are town as land 
 agent, and I've got on my books two prime 
 clairins, whare there ain't no swamps. I sold 
 a prime lot a short time ago — lost considerable 
 by the sale." 
 
 ** I've made up my mind long since, Mr. 
 Agent." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 ** To continue my travels to-morrow morn- 
 ing. 
 
 **Ralynow, have you? Lord sakes ! it 'd 
 be a tarnal shame if I didn't now let you know, 
 out of pure friendship, that you couldn't dew 
 a worse thing, stranger." 
 
 ** You don't say so !" said Marlton, throwing
 
 284 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 away the remnant of his cigar, and rising from 
 his seat to return to the house. 
 
 His tall martial-looking figure and strong 
 frame seemed to astonish the American, who 
 began to think he was not a man to be trifled 
 with. His appearance had a singular effect 
 upon Captain Swindon, as during the rest 
 of their converse his tone was more respectful. 
 When Marlton began to walk slowly towards 
 his hotel, the American pulled his strap tight 
 round his waist, and took from behind the 
 stone on which he had been lately seated, 
 a long rifle, and shouldered it, walked at some 
 little distance by the side of the stranger. 
 
 '* Do land agents in your town generally 
 carry rifles ?" enquired the English traveller. 
 
 " Not in a gineral way," answered Swin- 
 don ; " to-day happened to be dull, so I Ve 
 been practising at a mark for exercise. We 
 Yankees are reckoned by Britishers good rifle 
 shooters, ain t we ?"
 
 THE PEDLAR. 285 
 
 ^' I really don't know," replied Marl ton. 
 *' Your country, where I dwelt, was so seldom 
 the subject of conversation, that I dare say 
 they might have been lamentably ignorant of 
 the country-people's qualifications, in that par- 
 ticular." 
 
 '' Terrible sharp ! " whispered the Yankee 
 to himself, "shan't make nothin' of him! — 
 You're sure then you wouldn't settle about 
 here ? " 
 
 " I've not made up my mind about settling 
 anywhere." 
 
 " Oh ! perhaps you air travellin' for some 
 house ? Why, I guess then we can do a stroke 
 of business, if you'll only just come down to 
 my store — Swindon's general store and land- 
 agency office." 
 
 " I really shan't have time." 
 
 *' Why, only calc'late ; you're sure to be 
 wanting a lot of ready-made articles over to 
 Canada ; they ain't got nothin' thare ; why 
 there ain't a store in all Toronto fit to buv in ;
 
 286 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 just come down the town and look in. I've 
 got everything, from pilot coats — fashionable 
 cut, not with such a high collar as that o' 
 yourn, but with rael stylish collars ; trowsers, 
 splendid fit ; and as for boots — like these air 
 — new fashion, just from New York — them's 
 the boots for a gentleman ; and all kinds of 
 gineral goods and wares to all eternity ; and I 
 tell you what, I'll give you a glass of double- 
 distilled for every article I sell you." 
 
 " I've no money to spend, my good fellow," 
 said Marlton, quite amused with Captain 
 Swindon's peculiarities. 
 
 '' No money ! no tin ! wal then, can't we 
 barter ? Ain't you got a knife in your pocket ? 
 Ain't you got nothin valuable with you at all ? 
 Let's change coats then ; or come down to my 
 store, and I'll fit you out with a reg'lar suit for 
 the Canadas, for that outlandish one o' yourn." 
 It was now growing dark and chilly, and the 
 Englishman walked at a quick pace towards 
 the hotel, wishing to get rid of his importunate
 
 THE PEDLAR. 287 
 
 companion, but he kept by his side, evidently 
 becoming more impatient, seeing, doubtless, 
 that every moment dispelled all chance or 
 prospect of his reaping any benefit from the, 
 stranger, or of ascertaining anything further 
 respecting his intended movements. 
 
 " He'd be a reg'lar good 'un for our cause," 
 muttered Swindon to himself, ** but he's too 
 smart for me." 
 
 " We can't trade, then. Stranger ? " he said 
 hastily. 
 
 " No, I'm in need of none of your wares, my 
 good friend, replied Marlton, quickly. 
 
 " Now don't go so fast ; stop, I've a bit of 
 paper here I should like you to look at ; just 
 you read it ; reflect on it's contents, here." 
 
 The American thrust a paper into Marlton's 
 hand, and said, 
 
 *^ Now do take it, no oflbnce meant ; we 
 want men like you ; we'd swamp all creation 
 then ; look at it afore you go to bed ; it's a 
 full account of what I deal in. Wal, irood
 
 288 THE PEDLAR.' 
 
 night, Stranger, and I shall be by the steam- 
 boat wharf to-morrow morning." 
 
 The American grinned, and, nodding, 
 walked away. He turned once round, waved 
 his hand at Marlton, and disappeared. Marl- 
 ton entered the hotel, sought the parlour, and 
 observed a respectable looking-man busy at a 
 substantial meal. The sight awakened his 
 appetite, and summoning the waiter, he called 
 for supper.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Tea — or supper, as it is called in America, 
 as ordered by our friend Marlton, — soon ap- 
 peared, under the care of a comical looking 
 waiter, whose face, though as black as the 
 raven s wing, was yet the very semblance of 
 fun and humour. He placed the bright tea 
 service at one end of a large table, where the 
 other traveller was seated. The waiter folding 
 his arms, surveyed the brilliant tea-pot with a 
 grin of satisfaction ; seeing it was not exactly 
 in a position to please his fastidious eye, he 
 removed it a little, then with a cloth over one 
 arm, stood apart, until Marlton walked towards 
 the board.
 
 290 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 '* What's your name, my fine fellow? " said 
 Marl ton to the waiter, as he took his seat, ad- 
 miring at the same time the neatness displayed 
 in the arrangements of the table. 
 
 " Bumps, saar," was the immediate and 
 quick reply. " Bumps ; dat's de name, at 
 least dat suits me, least-wise I deserbes dat 
 cognomen best for many reasons, saar." 
 
 " Ah ! no doubt," replied Marlton. " Well, 
 Bumps you have placed my supper here, with- 
 out asking this gentleman's permission. I 
 hope sir, that you will excuse it," said Marlton 
 to the gentleman before him. 
 
 " Dear me, dear me, yes ; most happy, most 
 happy sir, pray don't mention it. Bless me ! 
 most happy ; " returned the stranger addressed. 
 " I think sir," he continued, " that you are a 
 countryman of mine, and I'm always very glad 
 to meet with a countryman. Fine day it's 
 been sir, very fine day. I'm an Englishman, 
 sir. 
 
 Bumps grinned, and said, — " Sure beg de
 
 THE PEDLAR. 291 
 
 genbleman's pardon ; guess dat'll satisfy de 
 genbleman ; tought on reflection dat you'd 
 like to meet ; seed you was countrymen ; like 
 to make people comfortable. Will you take 
 green or black tea, saar ? " 
 
 " I should advise you to try mixed, sir," 
 said the first comer, with deference in his tone, 
 — for he saw by Marlton's appearance that he 
 was one of the better class. " Green tea 
 makes you nervous, sir, I dare not drink it 
 myself." 
 
 " Thank you," returned Marlton, " I will 
 take your advice, — mixed, then, Bumps. 
 
 " Mixed, saar, berry well saar ; " and the 
 waiter departed. 
 
 Marlton rubbed his hands, and smiled in 
 anticipation of the good cheer. 
 
 " Fine country, this sir ! — beautiful view of 
 the lake." 
 
 ^' Ah ! indeed," replied the other traveller, 
 for such he appeared to be by his travel-stained 
 garments. *' Ah ! indeed ! Well, sir, I
 
 292 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 haven't looked at it yet ; — dare say it is very 
 fine ; — indeed I know there are some very 
 pretty places about here, — at least, I've heard 
 say so." 
 
 ** Perhaps you are not a great admirer of 
 nature ? " said Marlton, who saw by the coun- 
 tenance of his companion that he w^as a prac- 
 tical character. 
 
 ** Well, no, perhaps I'm not ; no, I don't 
 think scenery afiects me much. Ah ! here 
 comes Bumps ; hope you have a good appetite, 
 sir ; nothing better for a hungry man than 
 fried eggs and ham, which I perceive you are 
 going to partake of." 
 
 ** Allow me to make the tea, saar; I hab 
 much practice in it ; know^ exactly the propor- 
 tions required," said the waiter, busying him- 
 self in doing so ; ** A leetle more black than 
 green ; now leetle water ; letter it draw, — 
 brings de flabour out in a superlatibe manner 
 smell delicious, — don't it gemblemen ? Dat's 
 good tea, saar, ain't it ? " continued he, turn-
 
 THE PEDLAR. 293 
 
 ing to the first comer. ** Ah ! you try dis 
 man's strength bringing in hot water, didn't 
 you, saar ?" 
 
 " Ah ! yes ; ha ! ha ! " exclaimed the person 
 addressed, " does you credit. Bumps ; very 
 good tea, and I really believe I never enjoyed 
 any more than this. Indeed, I think," said he 
 to Marlton, '' that a cup of tea refreshes one 
 as much as a glass of ale ? " 
 
 " I don't know but that you are right," 
 answered he, commencing his supper, '' I cer- 
 tainly have derived much benefit, after fatigue, 
 from a basin of tea ; very nice ham too, eggs 
 well poached." 
 
 " 'Sense me, saar," said Bumps, " may I 
 make an obserwation ?" 
 
 ^' Certainly, waiter," replied Marlton, ** be 
 quick and make it, for I'm so well engaged 
 here, I've no time for parleying." 
 
 ** 'Scuse me, saar," said Bumps, displaying 
 a set of white teeth, as he spoke, that would 
 not have disgraced a crocodile, — ** my obser-
 
 294 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 wation won't hab de effect of spiling your ap- 
 petite, rader I should tink add to it. Well, 
 saar, wouldn't you like something 'ticular good 
 to finish off wid ? I knows ob dat someting ; 
 I most like it myself ; better hab it afore dat 
 oder gembleman we 'spects comes in an hears 
 ob it." 
 
 " What is it, Glumps ? " 
 
 " Bumps, massa, please, — if you see no 
 objection." 
 
 " Bumps, oh ! why I certainly can have no 
 objection to finish off with something tasty, 
 what may it be my good man 1" 
 
 " It's a shocking fine roostar, saar ; dare 
 now ; I'be know'd him dese tree months, wid 
 mighty good reason to feel ^ticularly friendly 
 towards him ; him woke me up from de most 
 sublime sleeps ebery morning since I been 
 helpin here — wid de most discruciaten crowen 
 — eber dis man's ears stunnM by ; now dough 
 — he fixed up, and crow small, — and I hab 
 chance ob a little rest, and I should like to
 
 THE PEDLAR. 295 
 
 see you eat him up, saar, and wish ebery 
 moutful you take — dat parvarse rooster may 
 feel it — for I owe him a grudge — much grudge 
 for disturbing me in my syntiiic dreams, and 
 bringing me to know dat I was in a bery 
 wicked world still libing. What do you say, 
 saar 1 — eh ] fine feller — well roasted. I cooked 
 him myself, and ebery baste I gib de creature 
 I tink he know'd I hab revenge, for he spirt 
 de hot graby right in my face, — shall I bring 
 him in, saar V 
 
 The two travellers laughed heartily. Marl- 
 ton signified his contentment with the fare 
 before him. *' What, — what on earth do you 
 call this!" exclaimed he, peeping into the con- 
 tents of a pot containing something like jam. 
 
 " Dat, massa," replied the black. 
 
 " Yes, this queer looking stuiF.'^ 
 
 " Dat queer stuff !" answered the black with 
 something of indignation in his manner. "Dat 
 sartainly not queer stuff; it de best eatable 
 eber made."
 
 296 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 " What is it V returned Marlton, venturing 
 to taste a very small portion on the end of a 
 tea-spoon, and immediately putting it from 
 him.^' 
 
 *' What !" exclaimed the negro, evidently 
 greatly astonished, " dat surprise me; what! 
 not like it! Can't beleabe it, — prejudice, 
 saar." 
 
 '^ Have we not all a prejudice against poi- 
 son f cried Marlton, wiping his mouth with 
 his handkerchief. 
 
 •' Pison ! say pison, massa ! Well neber 
 heard so afore; neber since dis man a little 
 niggar tree feet tall. Pison ! well I'm done 
 slick up — sorry no please you, massa;" he 
 continued in a serious tone, accompanied with 
 a grave shake of his head, — " sorry indeed ; 
 dat, saar, wid all respect to you both — for 
 I know dat you man of sense in most 'ticlars, 
 dat gemblemen, am a national sweet, and am 
 called in common parlance, punkin saarce." 
 
 Both the travellers again laughed heartily,
 
 THE PEDLAR. 297 
 
 as Bumps with a countenance expressive of 
 pity and comicality departed. 
 
 Marlton despatched his supper, and much 
 enjoyed the meal, occasionally exchanging 
 some common place remarks with the stout 
 gentleman opposite to him. Bumps speedily 
 answered the bell, his countenance displaying 
 no traces of his late indignation, but beaming 
 with good humour ; and he began clearing 
 away the tea service with the most obliging 
 alacrity. As he was making his exit, he 
 turned round with a most deferential bow, 
 saying ; 
 
 "Chilly night, gemblemen ; — p'raps not 
 used to de influence ob de lake air, — dare- 
 fore should recommend " — 
 
 " Not the roostar again, I hope V inter- 
 rupted the taller of the gentlemen, laughing. 
 
 " Not a bit ob it, saar ; between you and 
 me and de wall, I hab come to someting ob 
 a resolution since I went out. I'm a bit 
 inclined to tink dat de old roostar libM too
 
 298 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 long afore he was dispatched. I link him 
 somekind ob a tough animal ; jest tried a leg 
 ob him, — ah ! gosh ! it ware like fiddle-strings ! 
 He hab his revenge stead ob me. I tought 
 if nobody else 'd eat him up, I would ; — for 
 both massa and missis, and de tree piccaninnies 
 hab tried to musticate him, but couldn't do it. 
 Yah ! yah ! yah ! yerk !" The negro laughed 
 until the tea things shook on the tray he was 
 carrying. 
 
 Marlton hardly knew whether to be amused 
 or angry with him, but the ludicrous appear- 
 ance of the man caused him and the jolly-look- 
 ing gentleman to indulge in continued bursts 
 of merriment. 
 
 " You're a droll fellow, waiter, you're a droll 
 fellow ; come, acquaint us with your second 
 recommendation," said Marlton. 
 
 " Dat what I take the liberty to recom- 
 mend," said the good-humoured negro, *' am 
 someting dat dis nigger berry fond ob in 
 mod ration ; nice glass ob whisky and water,
 
 TPIE PEDLAR. 299 
 
 help bring de intellect out — rare manner ; 
 some one tell me, when we talk ob de great 
 men, dat some of dem no work at all — em con- 
 woUutions ob de brain quite muddled, 'less 
 dey hab drap someting inspiring' ; den gem- 
 blemen, dey write — ah ! much better dan dis 
 nigger eber could — if he drink a sea full." 
 
 " Well, that is not a bad recommendation, 
 my friend ; much superior to the first, cer- 
 tainly ; what say you, sir, will you join me 
 with a glass of mxture ? " 
 
 ** Decidedly," was the answer of the jolly 
 gentleman, rubbing his hands. " It will do 
 me good, settle my nerves ; and if you wo^ild 
 have no objection, sir," added he, as Marlton 
 drew his rocking-chair nearer to the blazing 
 wood fire that threw it's cheerful glare over 
 the spacious apartment, ** I should add to the 
 recommendation of the waiter by proposing 
 cigars." 
 
 ** Nothing I should enjoy more, sir," re- 
 turned Marlton, feeling quite at home, and
 
 300 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 pleased that he had met with so accommodat- 
 ing and agreeable a countryman. 
 
 Whilst the waiter went to fetch the articles 
 ordered, the two gentlemen made themselves 
 known by name to one another. They found 
 that they were both bent to Canada, for the 
 same purpose, and they readily agreed to 
 travel in each other's company. 
 
 Marlton became quite interested in the re- 
 lation of a series of misadventures and misfor- 
 tunes that had befallen his companion in the 
 search after a settlement, and during his resi- 
 dence in Michigan, from which it appeared he 
 had been the dupe of a sharper, although he 
 continually blamed himself for want of fore- 
 sight. One part of the traveller's tale par- 
 ticularly excited his attention, that told of his 
 meeting, when almost on the verge of despair, 
 with a singularly benevolent friend, who had 
 rendered most important services to himself 
 and family. He asked many questions which 
 his companion answered without reserve.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 301 
 
 Marlton was disposed to fear, from the extraor- 
 dinary open-mindedness and candour exhibited 
 by the narrator, to himself, an entire stranger, 
 that he had not, perhaps, profited by the 
 lesson experience had given him. 
 
 *' And how long did you continue your 
 labours as school-master, Mr. Brainsoft ? " in- 
 quired Marlton, after a slight pause in the 
 conversation. 
 
 '* Nearly a year," replied the traveller, 
 bearing that well-remembered name, ** and in 
 truth, I can assure you I got very sick of it, 
 for what with the stupid complaints of the 
 trustees of the school, and those of their 
 ignorant parents, who credited every tale told 
 them .by their children, I was constantly in 
 hot water with my neighbours, and nearly 
 went mad with vexation, and useless endeavours 
 to reconcile all parties. I received intelli- 
 gence, however, that a relation had left me a 
 trifle, which was sent out to me ; so I gave up 
 the school, made up my wife and children
 
 302 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 comfortable in our log-cot, and have wandered 
 six weeks about the country for the purpose 
 of finding out a locality that would suit me, 
 but though I've come across one or two pretty 
 tolerable farms to be sold cheap, I've come to 
 the conclusion, quite suddenly, to go to 
 Canada, and settle on British soil ; for the 
 recollection of the way in which I was duped 
 by that rascal Graspcash, has prejudiced me 
 against everything American. I'm wiser than 
 I was then, thank goodness, and I would let 
 him dupe me again if he could." 
 
 *' 'Twas a shameful trick," said Marlton, 
 sympathising with him ; '' there is the old 
 consolation, my friend, it might have ended 
 worse." 
 
 *' Yes, sir, that's true. Ah ! you don't 
 know what we've suffered. Our children, 
 though, have been real blessings to us in our 
 seclusion. Poor Annie ! I might have mar- 
 ried her comfortably to the village blacksmith, 
 who was dying for her, but I couldn't get her
 
 THE PEDLAR. 303 
 
 to look at the man. Perhaps she may take a 
 fancy to the new doctor that's just come there, 
 but I don't know, she's a strange girl. Ah ! 
 we shall make a nice party in Canada. In 
 fact, Mr. Marlton, I shall never feel at ease 
 till I see the union-jack floating above me." 
 
 " You are a true son of Britain, Mr. Brain- 
 soft," said Marlton, gladly, *' and will add one 
 more strong arm to her community. Did you 
 never hear or see anything more of the worthy 
 man who so succoured you in your misfor- 
 tunes?" 
 
 *' No, God bless him ! He wasted a long 
 time about us at our place without earning a 
 dollar, or selling a single article of his stock." 
 
 ^* Poor fellow ! " echoed the interested 
 listener, " we'll drink him God speed, wher- 
 ever he journeyed, or is at present wandering." 
 
 " We will indeed ! " exclaimed Brainsoft, 
 rising up hastily and pulling the bell, whilst 
 the liveliest emotions of gratitude for the 
 services that strange being had rendered him.
 
 304 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 shook his square frame, and beamed in his 
 moistened eye. 
 
 " Some more hot water, waiter." 
 
 " Yes, saar, I told you it was good ; dare 
 ain't any more such whisky in de Union." 
 
 " I thank you for the thought, Mr. Marl- 
 ton ; 'twill be a most fitting occasion — the 
 night of my meeting, for the first time since my 
 exile, with a gentleman, who is a countrjuian 
 of the land of my heart, to pledge that worthy 
 man's health. Long life to him, and may I 
 be able, by deed, to testify my gratitude ere I 
 die!" 
 
 The water was brought, and they each 
 mixed another glass. Bumps looked \dth 
 some surprise at the countenances of the En- 
 glishmen, and seemed to be contrasting one 
 with the other, making wry faces as he watched 
 them. The glasses were raised, and Mr. 
 Brainsoft, in a solemn tone, proposed the fol- 
 lowing toast — " The Pedlar — may we meet 
 again ! "
 
 THE PEDLAR. 305 
 
 He was much affected, for the recollections 
 of the past crowded upon his memory ; fore- 
 most among them was that of the loss of his 
 favourite son. Marlton could not but sympa- 
 thise with his sorrow. He walked towards 
 the window, pulled aside the curtains, and 
 there streamed into the apartment the beams 
 of the moon, which in full radiance shone in 
 the firmament, in the midst of unnumbered 
 stars. 
 
 Marlton felt a great desire to see the lake 
 by moonlight, and finding that it was Mr. 
 Brainsoft's intention to go into the town to 
 purchase a walking-stick, he, under the guid- 
 ance of the waiter, Bumps, ascended to the 
 gallery on the roof of the hotel, from whence 
 he commanded a view of the lake and sur- 
 rounding country. 
 
 Mr. Brainsoft, at the same time buttoning 
 up his coat to his chin, and tying a red hand- 
 kerchief about his throat, strolled through the 
 town of Oswego, where we will for the present
 
 306 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 leave him, and return to Marlton, who was 
 seated in the balcony, quietly surveying the 
 moonlight, and pondering upon the misfor- 
 tunes of his newly-found friend. 
 
 The scene beneath him soon engrossed his 
 attention, and he surveyed it with emotions of 
 delight. He experienced a feeling of unmixed 
 tranquillity, though we might imagine he had 
 no particular reason for ease of mind, inas- 
 much as there could be nothing but toil in 
 prospect, and he knew this well. He saw, how- 
 ever, in perspective, his family provided for, 
 and their gradual emancipation from the 
 meshes of poverty. He saw his healthy chil- 
 dren earning for themselves a homestead ; and 
 viewed the mighty forest disappearing before 
 their united efforts ; the golden corn taking 
 the place of the mighty denizens of the soil ; 
 and he felt an inward assurance that Provi- 
 dence had happiness in store for them, and 
 that ere long the horn of plenty would be 
 emptied at their feet.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 307 
 
 The prospect he looked upon, whilst busy 
 with his ruminations, was solemn in its mag- 
 nificence. The gorgeous colourings of day 
 had given place to the subdued hues of moon- 
 light. 
 
 How many a different scene does the same 
 moon shine on in her wanderings — alike, and 
 carelessly upon all ! thought Marlton, as he 
 gazed upon the firmament. At one time, per- 
 chance, over fields crimson with carnage ; — 
 now on the lover's haunt, where frail vows are 
 pledged ; — or where the song of the gondolier 
 echoes over the waters of the Adriatic ; — now 
 making ghastlier the face of him who has 
 fallen by the knife of jealousy, and lies with 
 dishevelled hair amongst the reeds on the 
 river's brink. 
 
 At another, — sweetly lighting up the gar- 
 dens of the Shalimar, where the dancing girls 
 of Persia, and the houris of the harem are 
 gambolling to song and gushing music, amid 
 " Anemones and Seas of Gold," and myriads 
 of sleeping roses.
 
 308 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 Now, shining over bearded and turban ed 
 men bearing the victim in the sack to the 
 silent waters of the Bosphorus ; — or now 
 upon the sumptuous fete given by some ^dly 
 despot, where statesmen and great captains 
 lead fair dames to the festive dance — heeding 
 never the still small voice that, spite of blazing 
 lights and merry minstrelsy, keeps whispering 
 at their hearts " Beware ! " — whilst the despot 
 smiles, and the fair one believes that his words 
 betoken tranquility and peace. Vain illusion ! 
 The spirits of the injured dead are hovering 
 unseen around, and could they speak with 
 human tongue — alas ! who would listen whilst 
 the great one smiles ! 
 
 Palely, perhaps, she shines, too, in the mid- 
 night room of the usurper, whilst he signs his 
 dreaded fiats ; on the nightly sacrilege of the 
 domestic hearth ; on the gloomy walls of the 
 prison-house, to which dark coaches drive , 
 and where torches gleam o'er fierce and pallid 
 countenances.
 
 THE PEDLAR. 309 
 
 She shines, too, on the mammoth city, 
 where night is turned to day ; — where com- 
 fort reigns ; — where the rich look down with 
 scorn ; — where poverty sickens with hope de- 
 ferred ; on laces and silks, and lovely faces — 
 on rags and beggary ; on the mansion of the 
 reveller ; on the attic of the maid, who plies 
 her needle from early morn to morn again, to 
 earn the worth of a single taper that glitters 
 amongst myriads in the mansion. 
 
 And nearer too, the same moon shines on 
 the simple home of the backwoodsman, who, 
 far from the turmoil of the busy world, smokes 
 his pipe on the rough log chair ; whilst his 
 rosy, well-fed little ones cling around their 
 mother, knitting by the log-fire ; and without, 
 on the rude clearing, where the herds repose 
 on the dewy grass, and the sheep bleat in the 
 pen. 
 
 And o'er the town of Oswego she is shining 
 now, throwing her silvery mantle over the 
 slightly rippled sea, that stretches in the
 
 310 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 boundless distance, — whose banks no long 
 time ago were the hunting ground of the red 
 man, but are now thronged with cities, teem- 
 ing with busy life, and peopled by another 
 and far different race, destined to carry on the 
 march of civilisation, and swell the tide of 
 social progress. As the night drew on apace, 
 a fresher breeze arose, and blew rather chilly 
 upon the solitary tenant of the gallery, so he 
 took a farewell admiring glance around him, 
 and descended to the parlour. He sat down 
 in the rocking-chair, and took from his pocket 
 the paper that had been forced upon him by 
 the imperturbable Captain Swindon. 
 
 END OF VOL, I.
 
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