by Hervey Keyes
CHAPTER VI.
After the storm of the Revolution had subsided, the Indian's bow wasunstrung, the tomahawk and scalping-knife were laid idly by, and theAngel of Peace had spread her guardian wing over the waters of theSusquehanna and her tributaries. The hardy sons of New England cameflocking to this section of country, and many of them found a home fortheir families in the lovely Valley of the Otego. Here they purchasedlauds and commenced cutting down and clearing away the forest along thevalley, and erecting rude houses to shelter their wives and children,and mills to grind their grain.
In a few short years the smoke from their morning fires curled above theforest trees for more than twenty miles along the winding banks of thecrystal waters of the Otego, and began to present a scene of activity.School-houses were erected by the industry of the settlers along thevalley at the most convenient places, and these served a doublepurpose--for schools through the week and meeting on the Sabbath.
Orchards soon began to blossom in spring, and fields of grain to wave insummer, both yielding the gems of bright abundance in autumn. Then thereapers, robust and ruddy with health, thrust in the willing sickle,whilst the young maidens with glowing cheeks gathered up the gavels andbound them in sheaves and raked the new-mown hay. Health, beauty andprosperity spread their glory over the lovely scene. The axeman's blows,that lowered the forest and frightened away the game, were displeasingto Mayall, and all his thoughts were now turned on finding a new home.The thought of living in a country where the primeval forest was fastdisappearing, the thick boughs that had sheltered him from the stormsand the green plumes that had waved over his head in summer to protecthim from the scorching rays of the sun in his daily rambles, for so manyyears, where the wild game had lived and fattened for his table--allseemed like departing friends.
Mayall could endure the scene no longer, and started in quest of a newhome. He traversed the country to the north in every direction, with hisgun in his hand and his hunting-knife and tomahawk in his belt.
Thus equipped he wandered over a vast section of country, winding aroundlakes and crossing streams, at times climbing the highest hills, therefrom some lofty tree-top taking a view of the surrounding country, tosee if the smoke from the cottage of some adventurous settler or that ofthe Indian wigwam dimmed the air. He was seeking a lone retreat wherehuman footsteps seldom fall. At length he learned from an Indian of theOneida tribe that he would find that secluded and happy retreat he wassearching for on the head-waters of East Canada Creek, where thesparkling waters swarmed with speckled trout, where the buck and thedoe, with her fawn, coursed on their runway undisturbed, where beautifullittle lakes nestled among the hills, and abounded with fish and waterfowls, where the green forest in summer reflected its image upon thewaters so smooth and fair, and stamped upon its bosom creation's image,the sun and clouds reflected in their waters by day and the moon andstars by night, with the beautiful arch of heaven's high concave.
Whilst conversing with the Indian, his daughter came from his cabin nearby and informed her father that his morning meal was ready, and invitedMayall to come with her father to breakfast. Mayall was struck with theyouthful simplicity and beauty of the Indian maiden. After they hadenjoyed their delicious meal of venison together, and smoked the longpipe of peace, Mayall informed the Indian that he had a son equal inheight, years, activity and beauty with the Indian chief's daughter, andif the chief had no objection he would take them both with him to thebeautiful and romantic country he had so graphically described, aftertheir marriage, and the Indian chief could come to visit her every falland enjoy the Indian summer in hunting deer and procuring furs forwinter.
The Indian replied that if his daughter was pleased with Wolf-hunter'sson, and he was as good a hunter as his father, he would consent. TheIndians had adopted Mayall into the tribe, by the name of Wolf-hunter,which made Mayall's son equal in rank with the daughter of the Indianchief.
Mayall now parted with the chief and his family in friendship, and leftthe proposed marriage to abide future events. Mayall directed his stepstowards East Canada Creek, where he arrived in safety, and commenced hisjourney up the valley which had been scooped out by the stream since themorning of creation. He soon passed beyond the noisy bustle ofcivilization in the Valley of the Mohawk River, and launched into asolitude which appeared to him as a divine retreat, and was betterfitted for a wild hunter than a civilized man.
Mayall carefully examined the forest along the banks of the stream andits branches, from its outlet into the Mohawk to its source far awayamong the forest hills. He found many traces of beaver and other furredanimals, and plenty of deer.
Mayall said it so nearly resembled the Otego Creek in its wild state,shaded with the primeval forest, that it made him think of home ingone-by days. The speckled trout swarmed in the creek and its smalltributaries, the feathered songsters sung their evening and morninghymn, unmolested by man.
Mayall selected the most beautiful place he could find, on an elevatedspot of ground, near a small rill fed by springs, where the creek formeda half circle like a new moon, on one side of his cottage. This fertilespot, lying in the bend, he intended to clear and cultivate.
Breeze of the woodland and breath of the prairie, Sweet with the fragrance of flower and vine, Proclaim o'er the hill-tops and deep-shaded glens That the sweet songsters of spring have returned, And the little birds chirp, flutter and sing, And make the groves again with melody ring.
Their music charms me like the voice of love, And chains me to this wild, uncultivated grove, Where spring flowers vary their beauty and bloom, And spread their morning and evening perfume. How beautiful the hills and forest land, Where Nature spreads her loam and fertile sand;
Where seeds long-buried in the drifting snow Spring forth in beauty when the south winds blow. The sun, with golden beams and brighter rays, Shines forth to warm the earth and lengthen out the days.
He there built his camp-fire, and reared a rude cabin to shelter hisfamily, until he could build a more permanent residence.
Here Mayall rested for a few days, charmed with the music of the woods,and the water-fowls that had stopped along the stream to lay their eggsand rear their young. Mayall then pursued his journey up the streamuntil he reached its utmost spring among the distant hills, and thenbent his course eastward among the highlands of that region, where hefound the beautiful little lakes so graphically described by the Indian,stored with fish, and covered with water-fowls during the summer season.All the wilds of the forest appeared more beautiful than he hadanticipated.
After exploring the hills and valleys for a few days, during which timehe never saw a human being, Mayall resolved to return once more to hiswife and children. As he passed down the valley he stopped at the rudecabin he had erected, and passed the night in quiet sleep. Mayalldeclared that in his chosen bower Nature appeared fresh from the hand ofOmnipotence. He described one of the lakes he had seen as the mostbeautiful sheet of water that human eye ever saw, surrounded with a beltof white sand, where the buck, the doe, and the spotted fawn came andslaked their thirst from the crystal waters of the lake, unmolested byman, and fed tamely upon its grassy shores; where the wild rose, queenof bowers, shed her perfume, and the lily displayed her spots of beauty,as second in rank among the flowers; the third in magnitude and adorningwas the wild honeysuckle, with all her tints of beauty. These encircledthe snow-white sands upon its beautiful shores, whilst the low undertoneof its waves kept time to the music of the grove.
Mayall was enchanted with the beauties of Nature around him, and madehis bed at night under a low branching tree, covered with a wildgrape-vine, so nicely tied and coiled by Nature that it served everypurpose of a tent. Mayall made his evening meal on trout he took fromthe lake, and laid down to sleep upon the wild, enchanted shores of anearthly paradise. His sleep was quiet and undisturbed. He awoke with thefirst rays of rosy morn, and listened to the lovely song of Nature'sharmonists, the songsters of the grove.
After Mayall left his cabin on Canada Creek he bent his course for home,where he arrived after three tedious days' journey along an Indian path,fording streams, and crossing hills and ravines, and was once more inthe bosom of his family. All were glad to see him, and listened withrapture to the glowing account he gave of a country so wild andbeautiful, until Mayall reached the story of the proposed marriage ofhis young son with the daughter of an Indian chief. The young man was ofthe Caucasian race, young and sprightly. He declared that he would notmarry a squaw--he would live solitary and alone before he would marrythe daughter of a race he had always learned to hate, if she was alliedto the royal family of chiefs. Mayall heard his resolves with a twinklein his eye, and here the matter rested, whilst every preparation wasmaking for their now home.
Mayall was truly one of Nature's noble philosophers. When he hadresolved to leave the Valley of the Otego Creek, where he had enjoyed somany scenes of strife and pleasure, his friends, both old and young,gathered at his cabin for a farewell visit. In the course of the eveningthe question was put to Mayall, who was the most advanced in years ofany of the company, what season of life he had found most happy. Inreply he inquired of the company if they had noticed the forest treesthat once shaded the valley. They all replied they had. He then said,"When spring comes and the soft south wind blows up the valley, the budson the trees open and they are sweet with blossoms, I say how beautifulis Spring, representing the morning of life.
The light winds are her laughter, The murmuring brooks her song;
and when Summer comes and clothes the trees with foliage and shields mefrom the rays of the flaming noonday sun, cools the wind that sighsamong the branches filled with singing birds that charm me to the grove,I say how glorious is Summer, the noonday of life.
The sunbeams are her lovely smiles, The rose and lily are her footsteps light;
and Autumn, in her turn, comes with golden fruit, and the leaves bearthe gorgeous frost-tints so variegated with all the glory of colors,with the full ear, and Ceres has bound his golden sheaf, I say howbeautiful is Autumn, crowned with fruit that perfumes the surroundingair, representing the fruits of maturer years.
The branches bend with riper fruit, The grapes in royal purple shine When Autumn yields the glory of the year;
and when Winter comes, and there is neither opening buds, green foliage,or ripening fruit, nor gorgeous frost-tints upon the leaves, I lookthrough the bare branches of the trees better than I could in spring,summer and autumn, and lo, how beautiful are the stars that spangle theheavens and twinkle in the pale light of the moon, with maiden facesweeping through the heavens, veiled with fleecy clouds, like thebridesmaid of heaven, to direct our thoughts to the celestial city tomeet the great Author of our creation. For the spirit came from God, andto God it must return, it being that part of Divinity that dwells withman during the journey of life.
And we shall hail with joy The glorious sunset of life."
And the company recorded his wise sayings and poetical phrases for thebenefit of future generations that should inhabit the Valley of theOtego.
