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vied, and nought would serve her but that
Letty and I must come to the wedding: for
all my sisters loved Letty, she had such win
ning ways with her. Letty did not like to
leave her baby, nor yet did I want her to
take it; so, after a talk, we fixed to leave it
with Letty’s mother for the afternoon. I
could see her heart ached a bit, for she’d nev
er left it till then, and she seemed to fear all
manner of evil, even to the French coming
and taking it away. Well! we borrowed a
shandry, and harnessed my old grey mare, as
I used to the cart, and set off as grand as
King George across the Sands about three
o'clock, for you see it were high water about
twelve, and we’d to go and come back same
tide, as Letty could not leave her baby for
long. It were a merry afternoon, were that;
last time I ever saw Letty laugh heartily ;
and for that matter, last time I ever laughed
downright hearty myself. The latest cross
ing time fell about nine o’clock, and we were
late at starting. Clocks were wrong; and
we'd a piece of work chasing a pig father
had given Letty to take home; we bagged
him at last, and he screeched and screeched
in the back part o’ shandry, and we laughed,
and they laughed : and in the midst of all the
merriment the sun had set, and that sobered
us a bit, for then we knew what time it was.
I whipped the old mare, but she was a deal
keener than she w r as in the morning, and
would neither go quick up nor down the
brows, and they’re not a few ’twixt Kellet
and the shore. On the Sands it were worse.
They were very heavy, for the fresh had come
down after the rains we’d had. Lord! how I
did w T hip the poor mare, to make the most of
the red light as yet lasted. You, maybe,
don’t know the Sands, gentlemen. From
Bolton-side, where we started from, it’s better
than six mile to Cartlane, and two channels
to cross, let alone holes and quicksands. At
the second channel from us the guide waits
all during crossing time from sun-rise to sun
set ; but lor the three hours on each side high
water he’s not there, in course. He stays af
ter sun-set if he's forespoken ; not else. So
you know where we were that awful night.
For we’d crossed the first channel about two
mile, and it were growing darker and darker
above and around us, all but one red line of
light above the hills, when we came to a hol
low (for all the Sands look so flat, there’s
many a hollow in them where you lose all
sight of the shore). We were longer than
we should ha’ been in crossing the hollow,
the sand was so quick ; and when we came
up again, there, again the blackness, was the
white line of the rushing tide coming up the
bay. It looked not a mile from us; and
when the “wind blows up the bay, it comes
swifter than a galloping horse. ‘ Lord help
us!’ said I; and then I were sorry I'd spoken,
to frighten Letty, but the words w*ere crushed
out of my heart by the terror. 1 felt her
shiver up by my side, and clutch my coat. —
And as if the pig (as had screeched himself
hoarse some time ago) had found out the dan
ger we were all in, he took to squealing again,
enough to bewilder any man. I cursed him
between my teeth for his noise : and yet it
was God’s answer to my prayer, blind sinner
as I was. Aye! you may smile, sir, but God
can work through many a scornful thing, if
need be.
“By this time the mare were all in a lather,
and trembling and panting as if in mortal
fright; for though we were on the last bank
afore the second channel, the water was
gathering up her legs : and she so tired out!
When we came close to the channel she
stood still, and not all my flogging could get
her to stir; she fairly groaned aloud, and
shook in a terrible, quaking way. Till now,
Letty had not spoken; only held my coat
tightly. I heard her say something, and bent
.down my uead.
“ 1 1 think, John—l think—l shall never
see baby again!’
“ And then she sent up such a cry —so
loud, and shrill, and pitiful! It fairly mad
dened me. I pulled out my knife to spur on
the old mare, that it might end one way or
the other, for the water was stealing sullenly
up to the very axle-tree, let alone the white
waves knew no mercy in their steady
advance. That one quarter of an hour, sir,
seemed as long as all my life since. Thoughts,
and fancies, and dreams, and memory, ran in
to each other. The mist, the heavy mist, that
was like a ghastly curtain, shutting us in for
death, seemed to bring with it the scents of
the flowers that grew around our own thresh
old—it might be, for it was falling on them
like blessed dew, though to us it was a shroud.
Letty told me after, she heard her baby cry
ing for her, above the gurgle of the rising
waters, as plain as ever she heard anything;
but the sea-birds were skirling, and the pig
shrieking, I never caught it; it was miles
away, at any rate.
‘Just as I’d gotten my knife out, another
fcs®iFi2i3iafia a. airs & a ict
sound was close upon us, blending with the
gurgle of the near waters, and the roar of
the distant; (but not so distant, though:) we
could hardly see, but we thought we saw
something black against the deep lead color
of wave, and mist, and sky. It neared, and
neared; with slow, steady motion, it came
across the channel right to where w-e were.
0 God! it was Gilbert Dawson on his strong
bay horse.
“Few words did we speak, and little time
had we to say them in. I had no knowdedge
at that moment of past or future—only of
one present thought—how to save Letty, and,
if I could, myself. I only remembered after
wards that Gilbert said he had been guided
by an animal’s shriek of terror. I only
heard, when all was over, that he had been
uneasy about our return, because of the depth
of fresh; and had borrowed a pillion, and
saddled his horse early in the evening, and
ridden down to Cart Lane to watch for us. —
If all had gone well, we should ne’er have
heard of it. As it was, old Jonas told it, the
tears down-dropping from his withered cheeks.
“We fastened his horse to the shandry.—
We lifted Letty to the pillion. The waters
rose every instant with sullen sound. They
were all but in the shandry. Letty clung to
the pillion-handles, but drooped her head as
it she had yet no hope of life. Swifter than
thought, (and yet he might have had time for
thought and for temptation, sir—if he had rid
den off with Letty, he would have been saved
—not me,) Gilbert was in the shandry by my
side.
“‘Quick!’ said he, clear and firm. ‘You
must ride before her, and keep her up. The
horse can swim. By God’s mercy I will fol
low. I can cut the traces, and if the mare is
not hampered with the shandry, she’ll carry
me safely through. At any rate, you are a
husband and a father. No one cares for
me.’
“Do not hate me, gentlemen. I often wish
that night was a dream. It has haunted my
sleep ever since like a dream; and yet it was
no dream. I took his place on the saddle,
and put Letty’s arms around me, and felt her
head rest on my shoulder. I trust in God I
spoke some word of thanks; but I can’t re
member. I only recollect Letty raising her
head, and calling out —
“ 4 God bless you, Gilbert Dawson* for sav
ing my baby from being an orphan this night.’
And then she fell against me, as if uncon
scious. *
44 1 bore her through : or rather, the strong
horse swam bravely through the gathering
waves. We were dripping wet when we
reached the banks m-shore; but we could
have but one thought—where was Gilbert?
Thick mists and heaving waters compassed
us round. Where was he ? We shouted.
Letty, faint as she was, raised her voice and
shouted, clear and shrill. No answer came.
The sea boomed on with ceaseless, sullen
beat. I rode to the guide's house. He was
a-bed, and would not get up, though I offered
him more than I was worth. Perhaps he
knew it—the cursed old villain. At any rate,
I’d have paid it, if I’d toiled my life-long. He
said I might take his horn, and welcome. 1
did, and blew such a blast through the still,
black night, the echoes came back upon the
heavy air; but no human voice or sound was
heard; that wild blast could not awaken the
dead.
44 1 took Letty home to her baby, over
whom she wept the live-long night. I rode
back to the shore about Cart Lane; and to
and no with weary march did I pace along
the brink of the waters, now and then shout
ing out into the silence a vain cry for Gilbert.
The waters went back, and left no trace. —
Two days afterwards he was washed ashore
near Flukeborough. The shandry and poor
old mare were found half buried in a heap of
sand by A inside Knot. As far as we could
guess, he had dropped his knife while trying
to cut the traces, and so had lost all chance
of life. Any rate, the knife was found in a
cleft of the shaft.
44 His friends came over from Garstang to
his funeral. I wanted to go chief mourner,
but it was not my right, and I might not;
though I've never done mourning him to this
day. When his sister packed up his things,
1 begged hard for something that had been
his. She would give me none of his clothes,
(she was a right-down having woman,) as
she had boys of her own, who might grow
up into them. But she threw me his Bible,
as she said they’d gotten one already, and his
were but a poor used-up thing. It was his,
and so I cared for it. It were a black leath
er one, with pockets at the sides, old-fashion
ed-wise: and in one were a bunch of wild
flowers, Letty said she could almost be sure
they were some she had once given him.
“There were many a text in the Gospel,
marked broad with his carpenter’s pencil,
which more than bore him out in his refusal
to fight. Os a surety, sir, there's call enough
for bravery in the service of God, and to show
love to man, without quarrelling and fighting.
“Thank you, gentlemen, for listening to
me. Your words called up the thoughts of
him, and my heart was fall to speaking. —
But I must make up; I’ve to dig a grave for
a little child, who is to be buried to-morrow
morning, just when his playmates are troop
ing off to school.”
“But tell us of Letty; is she yet alive?”
asked Jeremy.
The old man shook his head, and struggled
against a choking sigh. After a minute’s
pause, he said,
“She died in less than two years after
that night. She was never like the same
again. She would sit thinking, on Gilbert 1
guessed; but 1 could not blame her, We had
a boy, and we named it Gilbert Dawson
Knipe; he that’s stoker on the London rail
way. Our girl was carried off in teething,
and Letty just quietly drooped, and. died in
less than a six week. They were buried
here; so I came to be near them, and away
from Lindal. a place I could never abide after
Letty was gone.”
He turned to his work, and we, having
rested sufficiently, rose up, and came away.
(Slimpses of & r cu) Books.
BEE HUNTING.
[From Cooper’s New Novel, entitled “ The Oak
Openings.”]
As this is a process with which most of
our readers are probably unacquainted, it may
be necessary to explain the modus operandi ,
as well as the appliances used.
The tools of Ben Buzz, as Gershom had
termed these implements of his trade, were
neither very numerous nor very complex. —
They were all contained in a small covered
wooden pail, like those that artisans and la
borers are accustomed to to carry for the pur
pose of conveying their food from place to
place. Uncovering this, Le Bourdon had
brought his implements to view, previously
to the moment when he was first seen by the
reader. There was a small covered cup of
tin : a wooden box; a sort of plate, or plat
ter, made also of wood; and a common turn
bier, of very inferior, greenish glass. In the
year 1812, there was not a pane, nor a vessel
of clear, transparent glass, made in all Amer
ica ! Now, some of the most beautiful man
ufactures of that sort, known to civilization,
are abundantly produced among us, in com
mon with a thousand other articles that are
used in domestic economy. The tumbler of
Ben Buzz, however, was his countryman in
more senses than one. It was not only A
merican, but it came from the part of Penn
sylvania of which he was himself a native.
Blurred, and of a greenish hue, the glass was
the best that Pittsburg could then fabricate,
and Ben had bought it only the year before,
on the very spot where it had been made.
An oak, of more size than usual, had stood
a little remote from its fellows, or more with
in the open ground of the glade than the rest
of the “orchard.” Lightning had struckthis
tree that very summer, twisting off its trunk
at a height of about four feet from the ground
Several fragments of the body and branches
lay near, and on these the spectators now took
their seats, watching attentively the move
ments of the bee-hunter. Os the stump Ben
had made a sort of table, first levelling its
splinters with an axe, and on it he placed sev
eral implements of his craft, as he had need
of each in succession.
The wooden p’atter was first placed on
this rude table. Then Le Bourdon opened
his small box, and took out of it a piece of
honey-comb, that was circular in shape, and
about an inch and a half in diameter. The
little covered tin vessel was next brought in
to use. Some pure and beautifully clear ho
ney was poured from its spout, into the cells
of the piece of comb, until each of them was
about half filled. The tumbler was next ta
ken in hand, carefully wiped, and examined,
by holding it up before the eyes of the bee
hunter. Certainly, there was little to admire
in it, but it was sufficiently transparent to an
swer his purposes. All he asked was to be
able to look through the glass in order to see
what was going on in its interior.
Having made these preliminary arrange
ments, Buzzing Ben—for the sobriquet was
applied to him in this form quite as often as
in the other—next turned his attention to the
velvet-like covering of the grassy glade.—
Fire had run over the whole region late that
spring, and the grass was now as fresh, and
sweet and short, as if the place were pastur
ed. The white clover, in particular, abound
ed, and was then just bursting forth into the
blossom. Various other flowers had also ap
peared, and around them were buzzing thou
sands of bees. These industrious little ani
mals were hard at work, loading themselves
with sweets; little foreseeing the robbery con
templated by the craft of man. As Le Bour
don moved stealthily among the flowers and
their humming visiters, ihe eyes of the two
red men followed his smallest movement as
the cat watches the mouse ; but Gershom was
less attentive, thinking ihe whole curious e
nough, but preferring whiskey to all the ho
ney on earth.
At length Le Bourdon found a bee to his
mind and watched the moment when the an
imal was sipping sweets from a head of white
clover, he cautiously placed his blurred and
green-looking tumbler over it, and made it his
prisoner. The moment the bee found itself
encircled with the glass, it took wing and at
tempted to rise. This carried it to the upper
part of its prison, when Ben carefully intro
duced the unoccupied hand beneath the glass
and returned to the stump. Here he set the
the tumbler down on a platter in a way to
bring the piece of honey-comb within its cir
cle.
So much done successfully, and with very
little trouble, Buzzing Ben examined his cap
tive for a moment, to make sure that all was
right. Then lie took ofi his cap and placed
it over tumbler, platter, honey-comb and bee
He now waited half a minute, when cautious
ly raising the cap again, it was seen that the
bee, the moment a darkness like that of its
hive came over it, had lighted on the comb,
and commenced filling itself with the honey
When Ben took away the cap altogether, the
head and half of the body of the bee was in
one of the cells, its whole attention being be
stowed on this unlooked-for hoard of treasure.
As this was just what its captor wished, he
considered that part of his work accomplish
ed. It now became apparent why a glass
was used to take the bee, instead of a vessel
of wood or of bark. Transparency was ne
cessary in order to watch the movements of
the captive, as darkness was necessary in or
der to induce it to cease its efforts to escape,
and to settle on the comb.
As the bee was now intently occupied in
filling itself, Buzzing Ben, or Le Bourdon, did
not hesitate about removing the glass. He
even ventured to look around him, and make
another captive, which he placed over the
comb, and managed as he had done with the
first. * In a minute, the second bee was also
buried in a cell, and the glass was again re
moved. Le Bourdon now signed for his com
panions to draw near.
“ There they are, hard at work with the
honey,” he said, speaking in English, and
pointing at the bees. “Little do they diink,
as they undermine that comb, how near they
are to the undermining of their own hive!
But so it is with us all! When we think we
are in the highest prosperity we may be near
est to a fall, and when we are poorest and
humblest, we may be about to be exalted. I
often think of these things, out here in the
wilderness, when I'm alone, and my thoughts
are acfyve.”
Ben used a very pure English, when hi?
condition in life is remembered ; but, nowand
then he encountered a word, which pretty
plainly proved he was not exactly a scholar
A false emphasis has sometimes an influence
on a man’s fortune, when one lives in the
\yorld; but, it mattered little to one like Buz
zing Ben, who seldom saw more than half a
dozen human faces in the course of a whole
summer's hunting. We remember an Eng
lishman, however, who would never concede
talents to Burr, because the latter said, a t A
mericaine, European, instead of European.
“How hive in danger?” demanded Elks
foot, who was very much of a matter-of-fact
person.—“No see him, no hear him — else get
some honey.”
44 Honey you can have for the asking, for
I’ve plenty of it already in my cabin, though
it’s somewhart ’arly in the season to begin to
break in upon the store. In general, the bee
hunters keep back till August, for they think
it belter to commence work when the crea
tures,” —this word Ben pronounced as accu
rately as if brought up at St. James’, making
it neither “creatur,” nor “creators” —“ l 0
commence work when the creatures have had
time to fill up, after their winter’s feed. A u
I like the old stock, and, what is more, I fee l
satisfied that this is not to be a common sum
mer. and so I thought I would make an ear
ly start.”
As Ben said this, he glanced his eye at Pi
geon-wing, who returned the look in a way
to prove there was already a secret intelli
gence between hem, though neither had ev
er seen the other an hour before.
“ Waal!” exclaimed Gershom, “ this is cur -
ous, I’ll allow that; yes, it’s cur’ous —but
we’ve got an article at Whiskey Centre that’ll
put the sweetest honey bee ever suck’d, alto
gether out o’ countenance.”
“An article of which you suck your share,