Holidays at the Grange or A Week's Delight Part 5

"No, it is not a _rat_."

"Is it a very gentle slap, indicative of love?"

"No, it is not a _pat_."

"Is it one of the wooden pieces of which blinds are composed?"

"No, it is not a _slat_."

"Is it a manly covering for the head?"

"No, it is not a _hat_."

"Is it that word sometimes applied to a disagreeable child?"

"No, it is not a _brat_."

"Is it the opposite of leanness?"

"No, it is not _fat_."

"Is it that covering for the head occasionally worn by young misses, and also a frequent quality of their conversation?" said Charlie Bolton.

"No, insulting sir, it is _not_ a _flat_."

"Is it that amiable insect, so anxious to discover whether all are made of the same blood, which pays such particular attention to visitors among pine forests?"

"No, it is not a _gnat_."

"Is it a large receptacle used in the brewery and tannery?"

"No, it is not a _vat_."

"Is it an ornamental way of dressing the hair?" said Gertrude.

"Yes, it is a _plait_. Now it's your turn, Gertrude."

"I've thought of a word that rhymes with _rock_."

"Is it an important part of woman's attire?"

"No, it is not a _frock_."

"Is it an article of infants' clothing?"

"No, it is not a _sock_."

"Is it the thing that brokers buy and sell?"

"No, it is not _stock_."

"Is it a common weed, and also the place where s.h.i.+ps are built?"

"No, it is not a _dock_."

"Is it a collection of sheep?"

"No, it's not a _flock_."

"Is it a German wine, highly prized by connoisseurs?"

"No, it is not _hock_."

"Is it a rap at the door?"

"No, it is not _knock_."

"Is it a curious instrument that has hands, but no eyes or ears, and that always weighs its actions, but never does any thing but reprove other people's laziness?"

"No, it is not a _clock_."

"Is it that word, which followed by head, shows what we all are, for not guessing it sooner?"

"Yes, you are right, it is a _block_."

In the evening, Mary was appointed by general consent to tell that eagerly-desired Indian story.

"And mind you give us scalping enough," said Charlie Bolton; "I'm a little afraid you are too tender-hearted to give your story the proper dramatic effect. It's worth nothing unless there is a great deal of blood spilt, and a whole string of scalps."

"Horrible, Charlie! how can you bear such things! However, I needn't be afraid, if Cousin Mary is to tell the tale," said Amy.

"How can I possibly please the taste of both?" replied Mary; "I plainly see that only one way is left for me; to suit myself--so, if you'll excuse me, that's the thing I'll do."

"We'll be compelled to excuse you, I suppose," said Charlie with a shrug: "well, go on then, and be as merciful as your weak woman's nature compels you to be."

Accordingly, with this encouraging permission, Mary began her story, which she called

Orikama, or the White Water-Lily:

AN INDIAN TALE.

Nearly a hundred years ago, when the greater part of Pennsylvania was still covered with forests, and was peopled chiefly by wild deer and yet wilder Indians, there might have been seen, upon the banks of the beautiful Susquehanna, a log cottage of very pretty appearance. It consisted of two stories, and was surrounded by a piazza, whose pillars, trunks of trees unstripped of their bark, were encircled by a luxuriant growth of ivies and honeysuckles, which ran up to the roof, and hung down in graceful festoons. The house was situated so as to command the finest prospect of the river and the distant hills, and gave the traveller the impression that it was erected by people of more refinement than the common settlers of that region, rough backwoodsmen, who thought of little else than the very necessary work of subduing the wild, planting corn and potatoes, and shooting bears and deer. And so it was: James Buckingham, who with his young wife had settled there, having purchased land in that vicinity, was a man accustomed to a more polished state of society, and had received a college education in New England.

But having become deeply attached to a young girl whose parents refused consent to their union, the impetuosity of his character prevailed over his sense of filial piety, and he persuaded the beautiful Ellen Farmington to leave her home and duty, and to give him a husband's right to protect her. In all probability, patience and submission might have prevailed upon her parents to give up an opposition, which was in reality unreasonable and groundless, as Buckingham was a young man in every way calculated to make their daughter happy; but this rash act of youthful folly had embittered their feelings, and the young couple were forbidden ever to show their faces in the old homestead, lest a parent's curse should light upon their heads. Too proud to show any repentance, even if he felt it, James Buckingham determined to settle in another State, where nothing should recall the past, and where his small amount of capital, and large stock of energy and industry, might be employed to advantage; accordingly, he fixed his lot among the pioneers of Penn's colony, and chose a romantic situation upon the Susquehanna for his dwelling.

Very toilsome were the first years of their settlement, and great their privations; but they were young and happy, and willing hands and loving hearts made toil a pleasure. In a few years, woods were cleared, fields inclosed, barns built, and then, agreeably to Solomon's advice, the Buckinghams thought of building a commodious dwelling. "Prepare thy work without, and make it fit for thyself in the field, and afterwards build thy house." The aid of neighbors, ever ready for such an undertaking, was called into requisition, and soon they removed from the small and only too well ventilated hut, through the c.h.i.n.ks of which the sun shone in by day and the moon by night, and the rain penetrated whenever it would, to the ample, pleasant home already described. Here it was that little Emily Buckingham, their only child, first saw the light; and then the cup of their happiness seemed only too full for mortals to quaff. As the child daily grew in beauty, and her engaging ways filled their hearts with delight, then first did they realize the absorbing nature of a parent's love, and regret that _they_ were separated from those who had so felt to Emily's mother, when she lay, a helpless infant, in their arms. Yet pride prevailed, and no overtures were made to those whom they still thought severe and unrelenting.

Few, and scattered far, were the farmers in that region, for they were on the very outskirts of civilization. At a short distance rose a primeval forest, untouched by the axe of the settler, where the deer roamed freely, unless shot by the Indian hunter; and many were the friendly Indians who visited the cottage, and exchanged their game, their baskets, and their ornamented moccasins, for the much-coveted goods of civilized life. Frequent among these guests was Towandahoc, Great Black Eagle,--so called from his first boyish feat, when, riding at full gallop, he had shot down an eagle on the wing, so unerring was his aim; and its feathers now adorned his head. Towandahoc was a great hunter, and did not disdain to traffic with the "pale faces," not only for rifles and gunpowder, but for many domestic comforts to which most Indians are indifferent. But Great Black Eagle, although fearless as the bird whose name he bore, was a humane man, more gentle in character than most of his race, and a great friend of the whites, the brethren of the good Onas, as the red men called the man who laid the foundations of our commonwealth in peace, by a treaty which, in the language of Voltaire, "is the only one never confirmed by an oath, and never broken."