or whether he laboured under some kind of religious insanity, a malady which is said to be very prevalent in the Eastern States.
We entered the log-house in silence. Mrs. Baldwin was sitting in the rocking-chair, busily employed in knitting a man’s worsted stocking. She raised her eyes for an instant, and gave the slightest possible nod to her husband, as much as to say: “I see you,” or, “here am I,” her knitting and her rocking going on vigorously all the while in perfect silence. And yet, under this cold and undemonstrative exterior, how much kindness was latent!
After sincerely thanking the worthy couple for their hospitality, I offered to take my leave, but Reuben would not consent to my going away so soon.
“Not yet, sir; not yet: ’tis not often that we see any one here, for we live very retired, and have no neighbours out here in the bush; but though I don’t care much about society, I do like to have somebody like yourself to talk with sometimes—it cheers me up, and does me good, so you will not leave us just yet, I hope.”
I could not urge the necessity of my presence at Steubenville, as I had already said that I had nothing to do there, but to wait for my friend’s arrival from New York. I therefore accepted the invitation as frankly as it was offered, and sat down by the open window, looking with admiration at the rich tints of the varied foliage, and the beautiful glimpses of forest scenery that were before me.
“You see, sir,” said Reuben, “what a nice place I’ve got here—everything to make a man happy, you must think; and I am happier than I ever thought to be again, when I first settled here, little more than two years ago. Esther, my dear, I shall tell the gentleman why it was that we couldn’t live no longer in the old place: I feel better for talking of it sometimes—at first I could not; but that’s over now.”
“I should be sorry, indeed,” said I, “if I have asked any question, or made any remark that has given you pain, by reminding you of past misfortunes.”
“I know it, sir. I’m sure you would not say anything to hurt my feelings; and as to reminding me of what’s past, that can’t be avoided. Why, sir, this morning, as we were walking through the bush, and talking about the different crops grown in your country, we came to where a lot of pine cones lay under the trees. I don’t suppose you noticed them, but I did; and for a minute or two I did not hear what you were saying, no more than if I’d been in New Hampshire, for my mind was wandering back to the time when the poor child used to pick them up, and make believe shooting me with them;—but I have not told you about her yet. My mind seems to run off the rails like, sometimes, and I forget what I am talking about.”
Mr. Baldwin was walking up and down the room in an excited manner, as he spoke; presently he stopped opposite the strange-looking picture, and began dusting the frame with his handkerchief.
“You have not offered Mr. Laurence any of our cider, Reuben, perhaps he would like some after walking so long in the heat.”
“I’m glad you thought of it, Esther.—My wife thinks of everything, sir,” continued he, as soon as Mrs. Baldwin left the room to fetch the cider; “if it had not been for her I should have lost my senses under that great trial, for I almost lost faith and trust in God, so great was my affliction. But, after the first, she bore up so like a true Christian, that I took comfort from her example, and though at times my mind is sore troubled, I know that all things work together for good to them that love God.”
When Mrs. Baldwin returned with a jug of cider, there was another pause; but this time her little ruse had not succeeded in turning her husband’s thoughts from what I suppose she considered a dangerous subject, for after filling our glasses he resumed the conversation.
“You have been in New Hampshire, sir, so I need not tell you what a different country that is to what you now see; and you have been through the Notch in the White Mountains; that is quite in the north of the range. I lived to the south, near the foot of the Sunapee Mountain, for all them hills have names, though strangers call them the ‘White Mountains,’ as if they were all one thing. They get their name from their tops being covered with snow for ten months in the year; nothing won’t grow there but black moss. Lower down there is a growth of dwarfed ugly pines, and ’tis only quite at the foot of the hills, and on the plains, that trees grow to a large size. Except that there are some fertile valleys, the country all round about for miles is the roughest I know anywhere; in some parts great blocks of granite, of many tons weight, lie all over the land, so that it is impossible to plough amongst them, and even on the best land the stones are a great hindrance to the farmer. Well, sir, I lived in one of them pleasant valleys I told you of; we were nicely sheltered from the cold winds by the rising ground and the pine woods at the back, and right in front, not more than a furlong from my door, was Lake Sunapee. I have heard that there are lakes in your country so handsome that people go from all parts to look at them; well, I guess there ain’t none handsomer than Lake Sunapee. The water is as blue as the heavens, and so clear and smooth, that the mountain and dark pine woods are reflected in it just as if it was a looking-glass. Perhaps you would think it a lonely place, for our nearest neighbours were on the other side of the lake, but we New England farmers never think ourselves lonely if we live within sight of a neighbour’s house, and I could see three or four.
“Well, sir, my wife and I had been married a good many years, but we had no children till about four years ago, when it pleased God to give us a little daughter, and I can’t tell you how much I loved that child. My wife named it Faithful—that was her own mother’s given name—and the child grew and ran about quite strong, and began to talk in her own pretty way, and Esther and I used to say to one another, what a blessing she was, and what a comfort she would be to us in our old age. In the evening after my work was done, I often used to carry her down to the lake, where