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'’llM'ELljA.tfMl'N.
i\imroi Em|.
KV T. J'LINT.
I have not seen a fairer sample of the re
spectable and opulent western pioneers in
the bygone days, than Nimrod Buckskin,
Esq, of West Virginia. He lived, for, I re
gret to say, he lives no longer, on the main
branch of the Kcnhawa, not far below the
point, where it pours its pure mountain
tribute upon the plain. Impetuous and wild
in its foaming descent, an emblem of the in
habitants of the West, as soon as it rolls up
on level and arable soil, it becomes caiui.—
It winds through a grove of these gigantic
and noble tulip-trees, that are the glory of
the western forest, and emerges, from the
dark green shade, or yellow sands and polish
ed pebbles, into a wido and fertile alluvial
tract, which constituted the estate of this
gentleman. He was the fortunate heir, w ith
this lino tract and fifty negroes, to a rich
Saline, which, without parsimony or specula
tion, had enabled him to accumulate a hun
dred thousand dollars m ready money. Opu
lent, intelligent, high-minded, not wholly
unlettered, though rustic from the circum
stances of his life, ho practised that simple
and noble hospitality peculiar to the western
country, of which the inhabitants of towns
could trom no adequate idea, but bv inspec
tion. His house was in the stiil favorite stylo
ot an ancient w estern rnan ; an ample, double
log house, not without its indications of the
opulence and comfort of the owner. The
perfect uniformity of the lines of logs, and the
white parallels of plaster, showed tiic curious
transition medium between a German stone
Louse and a cabin. Around it tho village of
negro quarters, barns, horse-indl, spring
liouse, cribs, and shops, presented an unique
aspect in the distance, not unlike a large
community of beehives. The whole was
shaded by noble forest-trees, which the own
er bad had the good taste to spare. Vigorous
and thrifty orchards were spread beyond.—
Beside the barns ranged domestic animals
and fowls, for number and variety, recalling
the beautiful biblc picture oftiie uncicitt. man
oi Uz. 1 suspect man is a hunter by instinct.
At least he seems always such, where circum
stances alldwcd him the pastime. No appe
tite fastens deeper upon the heart, and Mr.
Backskin would tell you, with an indescriba
ble enthusiasm, that no inau ought (o talk of
high enjoyment, who had not hunted in the
western forests, in the days of Daniel Boone.
But bears grew scarce ; even venison and
turkeys were no longer obtained with suffi
cient easo and regularity, to furnish a con
stant supply of these forest dainties for his
patriarclial table. The tune was a kind of
interregnum between- hunting and munici
pal life.
A considerable village had grown up, at
the distance of half a mile from this house.—
11 was, what is called in the West, a country,
scat, a place of some importance. The chief
mn had the word‘Hotel’on a prodigious sign,
which bore a most ferocious caricature of
V asliington. The arm chair of the ordinary
of this establishment was regularly assigned
to squire Buckskin, by prescription; although
the villagers were, for the most part, recent
emigrants,hail unconscious of the claims of an
old rcsid enter. Among these people, the
most natural themes of interest were the ar
rival and departure of steamboats, and the
internal improvements of turnpikes and ca
nals. In these conversations, the squire sel
dom bore any wirt; and a discussion of them
generally brought over his countenance a kind
of stern sadness. Someone of the company,
who divined that an unpleasant string of
comparison had been harped within him, and
wished to gain his favorable ear, would di
gress from modern improvements to the bul
letin of a night bear hunt, in the tiqiesof the
Indians and first settlers. They then had a
story ol Herculean and skin-clad men, in en
ergetic phrase, in keeping with the scenes
and incidents of the narrative. It presented
ancient and boundless forests, as yet untouch
ed by the axe, illumined by the blaze of the
limiter’s fire, the chiming cry of the dogs, the
Itearty shouts of the hunters, the clang of the
Giles, ringing through the night stillness,
smd tin sulien bruin driven to bis last retreat
an the huge, hollow sycamore, followed by
1 in: elastic shout cf triumph in surveying the
dimensions of the fallen for* st prowler. The
countenance of Squire Buckskin would then
lighten with a peculiar expression. The
memory of jbys that wore past, was recalled.
It was as the narrative of \ustt rlitz, told |v
u companion in arms to Napoleon, on the far
-rack of the seas.
‘Bears, 1 or, as lie called them, ‘bar,* the
patriarch would add, with a peculiar intona.
tion of sadness, ‘are getting so scarce, that the
pleasure of a night-hunt is dead out. The
forests have become thin. Hunting-shirts
are disappearing. Old tunes are gone.—
Keel-boats arc going out of use, audit is no
great matter that 1 am going with the rest.—
All i wish, is, that they, who live in the days
of steamboats, extravagant fashions, and the
everlasting grinding of politics, may be as
honest and happy, as the true old west coun
try Cohoes.'
Exposure, aud the indulgence of a hunter’s
appetite, at tho age of seventy-live, brought
on rheumatism, and general morbid derange
ment ot the system. Mountain herbs, Indian
doe tors,sweating doctors, and quack patients,
were all tried in succession ; but all alike
I'iilcd-to remove the complaint. During his
illness, an honored young Tuckahoc ralativc,
a genu of thq Virginia aristocracy ol the first
water, made liiiu a visit from Norfolk, and
furnished him an ample budget of the freshest
modern news, and imbued him with the his
tory of the last half century, Drought down to
the present time. Among other things, he
vaunted tho waters of Saratoga Springs, and
instanced many Southerners, who hud been
couiplett ly restored by them from complaints
not unlike bis. lie earnestly recommended
tile experiment to him.
The eld gentleman listened, w ithout signs
of visible iiqpationce, to the fluent speech and
modern phrases of bis young friend. But iu
r -rually he hated steamboats, unshaded turn
pikes and modern changes. Hq ind a pur
dislike, fompotmdvd cf prejudice and
dread, towards Yankees; about whose tin
wares, wooden clocks, and ingenious knave
ries, he told many pleasant second hand sto
ries. Ho considered the whole generation
instinctively inclined to cheat, even where
honesty was most gainful, and least laborious.
Not having been east of the mountains, since
the glorious affair of Yorktown, in which he
had borne an honorable part, his antipathy
to Yankees, and his views of modern im
provements, connected sufficiently revolting
associations with such a journey. But cir
cumstances gave to the woids of his young
friend oracular importance. Fain, too, has
a tongue of strong persuasion, and he was
discouraged at the thought of repeating for
mer experiments, that'had so entirely failed.
Situated as he was, the expense of the jour
ney need not he an element in settling the
question. His loneliness, after the departure
of his young friend, fixed his purpose. Hav
ing completed his preparations, lie held a
solemn conversation with his only sou. and
child, in presence of two nieces, whom ho
had brought up, as cnildrcn. ‘Nimrod,’said
he, ‘it is, perhaps, probable that I shall die
on this journey. The world has not been
overly happy to me since the death of your
dear mother. Game, too, is getting scarce.—
Most of my old acquaintances in the low lands
arc gone; and, somehow, the ways of the
tunes seem mere calculated for the new com
ers- than for me. I shall leave you a fine
estate, and a solemn charge to be faithful to
these young girls. If I die away, I would
rather my bones should not be left in the
Yankee country. Let me be buried at the
bend of the branch, where it looks out upon
tne mountains.' Two trusty body servants
attended him, and his carriage drove away
for a steamboat at the Saline, in which he hat!
engaged a passage to Pittsburg.
Though strongly inbued with prejudice,
lie was deficient neither in intelligence nor|
good fueling. As ho experienced anew kind I
ol exercise, and his thoughts were led out of
their gloomy circle of habit, his health and
spirits improved, and he became gradually
reconciled to modern changes. He frankly
admitted, that steamboats were better than
keel-boats; Reesule’s carriages, than Ken
tucky wagons; and a good turnpike, than an
Indian trail, or a forest quagmire. Still fur
ther onward, the civility of the attendants at
the hotels astonished him, and gradually wore
away his dislike to eastern people. Though
the waters of Saratoga were olAcrvice to him,
yet cotillions and concerts and gaiety of the
unthinking young, and the tav/drv .fl'ectation j
ot rich and ignorant parvenus, and tho inces
sant noise and whirl of movement, neutraliz
ed their beneficial effect. His patience was
exhausted in a fortnight, and he was already
contemplating some change of place, when
he met a west country acquaintance, who,
like him, had been travelling for his health,
and was now on his return from Nahant, im
mensely improved by sea-bathing. He spoke
with enthusiasm of his trip. SomeofSpuirc
Buckskin’s prejudices resumed their ancient t
vigor. ‘I should like to try it,’ said he, ‘l!
have never seen tho sea but once in my life,!
and it is one of the few spectacles that I can !
never forget. lam told that the summer air.
from the blue water is cool and refrashing ; j
anti this place is like a cobler'r room heated'
by a stove, and the everlasting din more an
noying than that of spring black-birds. But
then to get there, I must pass through the
whole land of wooden clocks ; confound the
tin-pedling knaves.’ But dissatisfaction with
the springs, uniting with the impulse of un
quenched native ardor and curiosity, over
came even this obstacle ; and he was whirled
away through Albany, New Lebanon, the im-i
pressive scenery of the Green Mountains, so!
liko the blue hills at the source of the lven-!
hawa, and the neat, white villages beyond,
lie saw towns, spires, and rosy faces, iu con
tinual succession ; and such was his impres
sion from what he saw, and from his inter
course with the people, that here, in the very j
centre ol Yankee land, his prejudices against
them loosened their hold faster than ever. i
He reached the beautiful peninsula, wash-!
od by the summer surge, in safety ; and in-!
haled the health-giving breeze, charged with j
the elastic coolness oftiie immeasurable wave;
and meditated on his lar home, as the traces j
of 'he carriage wheels were pencilled on the i
polished strand, whence the tide had just
ebbed. This retirement, change of diet, air,'
and sea-bathing, completely restored him;;
and he became almost a New Englander in '
his admiration of the climate and 'people. '
•If they have the cool sea,’ said he, ‘and hand-!
somcr and better taught children, we ought
not, in pure envy, to calumniate them with
clumsy falsehoods about their cheating; but
be satisfied with our more fertile country, and [
train our children to equal quickness.’’
On his return homeward, caught by a
shower, as he was riding on horseback over
the Berkshire mountains, he experienced a
relapse of his rheumatism from sudden cold.
The severity of the complaint brought lum
up, as it happened, in a quiet and neat inn,
where he was attended with the most un
wound assiduity and consideration. Beside j
the general attendance of the inn, he had a
particular nurse in Katharine Spooner, a
charming girl, of the very best pattern of
Yankee neatness, cleverness, and kindness of
character. She not only nursed him, but
read and sung to him, and cheered the lone-i
lincss of his confinement by her intelligent
and lively conversation. Gratitude and an
affectionate interest were awakened for her,
not diminished by learning that she was an
orphan, brought up by the landlord ; that she
had gained all her advantages, at the com
mon school of the village, and was entirely
dependent on her own exertions. He was
struck with astonishment. ‘Why,’said he,
‘after u!l the expense and trouble of sending
our daughters to fashionable schools iu the
Atlantic country, wo seldom see tin in return
instructed as she is.’ So strong a likirer
did the old gentleman manifet for his favorite*,
that more than one of bar younir acquaintan
ces, half in jest, half in earnest, bantered her
on her chances of marrying the ancient and
rich widower, and coming forth, alter a short
discipline of penance, a young widow with a
fortune. Nor were there wanting envious
winds, who seriously suspected her cf such
I sordid views. But they as little divined the
J character of the west country niun, as the
j pure kindness and the simple integrity of the
j high spirited girl. Good minds know each
other by instinct. The frank maimers, and
j the blunt honesty of her invalid charge, had
won her kind feelings; and her display of
intelligent arid benevolent resources, to amuse
I and restore him, had gained his warm heart,
j It is true, these attributes were none the less
effective, for being displayed in a buoyant
.n*' beautiful girl of seventeen. But no
thoughts, beyound filial sanctity on the one
part, and parental affection on the oilier, had
be \ elicited between them.
Squire Buckskin had regained his usual
health, and had no longer even a pretext for
delay. Having paid the landlord’s bill, with
a handsome gratuity to the other attendants,
he requested to speak with Katharine Spooner
by herself. Almost effected to tears, lie held
out a fifty dollar note.
‘ .My pretty Y ankee girl,* said he, ‘ I can
never repav your kindness to me. If this’ —
f .\o, sir,' she answered, promptly ;‘ lain
already paid for all I have done. 1 take no
money for what 1 have not earned.’
11c paused, in a slight revulsion ofaston
ishment. ‘What! a Yankee, and in this
style? Fifty dollars would not go begging
in some other prrts of the country. You are
above taking money, then ? Perhaps you are
right. God Almighty has given you, in your
head, heart, and pretty face, what no money
could buy you. I shall tell of this when 1
hear the Yankees traduced.’
Her cheek crimsoned, as she replied, ‘But
I have no relative here. 1 think I could keep
a good school, and’—
‘ I understand you ; I will think of it, my
dear girl,’ said lie. ‘I hope you will hear
from your old western friend, whom your
nursing lias restored ; ami, if wc meet not
again, may lie be your recompense, who
never permits virtue to go unrewarded.’ In
the style of his country, he saluted her on
her polished cheek, and turned away to con
ceal his tears.
The r. turn of Squire Buckskin to his
estate, in good health, was an era of general
gladness in the vicinity, as well as particular
joy to his family. Like another Robinson
Crusoe, be Has continually reciting the in
cidents of his journey to Yankee land, min
gling almost unconscious eulogy of the peo
ple and country with Ins descriptions. ‘He
had seen,’ he said, ‘with his own eyes, the
stupid misrepresentations of them so current
in the west and south.’ He was particularly
emphatic in his praise of New Fngland
schools, and the efficient training with the
children acquired there. On an election
eve, in which the candidate had been carried
unanimously, he made a kind of haraguc, and
concluded by saying, ‘We must have a bet
ter female school in this village.’ The hearts
of the people were warm, and in concert. —
They requested him to draw up a subscrip
tion list. He did so, ami headed it with a
hundred dollars, adding, that for the advan
tage of having h.s nieces instructed at home,
lie would board the mistress, beside his sub
scription. Five hundred dollars a year, lor
two years, wore subscribed on the spot; and
Squire Buckskin was elected committee man,
with full power to offer the place to whom he
chose. His feelings at once prompted him
to write to Katharine Spooner. lie offered
her the place, and enclosed a hundred dollar
note, to pay her travelling expenses, ‘which,’
he added, ‘she was not to consider a gift, but
a kind of gratuity, along with her board, for
which he should expect particular attention
to his nieces, at home.’
After due reflection, Katharine determin
ed to accept the proposition, which was, in
deed, far beyond her highest expectations.—
Fitting herself out, with the neatness and
taste indicative of her character, and taking
a tender, filial leave of the protector of her
early years, as well as a general farewell of
her many friends, she was handed into the
stage. A couple of well-dressed youtrggen
tlemen gave her place on the yick seat, with
that officious civility, which a pretty person,
similarly invested, is sure to exact.
Katharine was not one ol' your over-deli
cate ladies, who eitlier shrink from the ob
servations of a male stranger, or obtrude
themselves upon it, and who seem terrified at
the thought of venturing a step, without re
clining daintily on the arm of a protector.—
But purity of thought and character was w rit
ten on every lineament of her countenance-
A virtuous education had impressed, upon
every step, visible propriety and seif respect.
If her innocent loveliness sometimes attract
ed the gaze of lawless admiration, a second
view repelled all throught of any improper
advances to her acquaintance. .She took the
steamboat at Pittsburg, and once or twice a
trader dandy, on bis return from Philadelphia,
ventured to survey her through his eye-glass.
A calm look of easy and yet indignant de
fiance, at once settled ti e terms of relation
ship between them. Such is the ultimate
triumph of the better kind of New England
education, inspiring the most winning mod
esty, in the form of self-reliance and iclf-re
spect. A girl, who has it, will pass, unpro
tected and alone, without a stain of suspicion
upon her, from Maine to the Sabine ; and so
would she. On ail the long way from Berk
shire to Kenhawa, she never failed receiving
considerate civility, and respectful atten
tion.
She arrived scfelv at her destination, and
was welcomed by tile elder Buckskin with
fatherly kindness. Nimrod Buckskin, junior,
looked in her glowing face, as she received
his father’s salute, and never forgot the spec
tacle; being that he never dreamed of such
a Yankee before. As she passed by him to
her seat, he bent his form of six feet and two
inches with an od I kind of awkward respect.
He felt that he had received a sure shaft, not
withstanding all his preconceived associations
with tin-ware, and pit-coal Indigo. He was
now turned of twenty-one, and would have
beet: a fine young man, if a higher education,
and more enlarged acquaintance with some,
tv, had dcvelopt and his native endowments.—
j His first exclamation to a young friend, on re
-1 turning from the interview, was, ‘Gemini ! is
' this the daughter of a tin pedlar ? To ,1 dead
j certainty, she’* the reverent btfd I fv Cr S3n -,>
Behold her forthwith charged, at home in
particular, wy,thtiie two little favorite nieces,
and bending her youthful beauty and gaiety
to the stern requisitions upon patience, dis
cretion, and the difficult task of governing,
as she put on the thorny crown of a village
school. The next process was to passthrough
the furnace of trial by the tongue. One
critical mother, her children furnishing the
allegations, espied one defect, and another an
opposite and incompatible one; but, on the
whole, she passed the first ordeal with un
common good fortune, and there was a de
cided balance of estimation in her favor.—
However, some of the young ladies demurred,
and enterred certain pleas in abatement ; af
ter her first appearance in church, the gen
tlemen carried the \oto for her by acclama
tion.
'resettle her place in society was a matter
of somewhat more pith and moment. Be
side the family of Augustus Fillagrce, Esq.
almost a counterpoise in importance to* that
of Squire Buckskin, there were some five or
six others, that, from comparative opulence,
or other adventitious circumstances, consti
tuted the aristocracy of that circle. The
question of admitting the schoolmistress a
formal member of this high society, was earn
estly debated in private, and famiiy by family.
The point long bung in doubtful suspense,
and was only settled, as the sage l’anza
arranged it for Don Quixote, by u palpable
conviction, that whenever she was, would be
the head. The aristocracy of nature carried ■
it over that of prescription. The question
was decided in her favor, and she became
forthwith free of the high privileges and im
munities of the social circle.
Anne Maria Theresa Fillagrce, of Fillagrce
(•rove, was only daughter of Augustus Filla
irrei, Esq.; between whom and Squire Buck
skin there was a strong coincidence of condi
tion. The former was a Tuckahoe. So had
been the father of the latter. Both were un
questioned scions of Virginia aristocracy.—
The one had an only son, the other an onlv
daughter, and both were widowers. In one
essential respect they differed. The one was
rich, far beyond his show and expenditure.
The other had squandered a large patrimonial
cst ite m the low country, with two hundred
and fifty negroes, and was compelled to move
west of the mountains, to this hereditary
tract, with only thirty negroes, the wreck ol
his former means ; where lie sustained, as he
might, the heart-wearing struggle between
poverty and pride, former habits of lavish
show, and present desperate expedients, to
satisfy their craving. .Still, Ins condition
and pretensions placed him far above ail oth
er competition in that quarter, except with
Squire Buckskin, and over him he had no
slight advantage, in being a Tuckahoe, when
the latter would claim only the honors of be
ing a Cohoe.
Miss Anne, as she was called, we otnit
ber remaining pastoral appellations, bad been
showily educated at Norfolk ; danced, pluyeu
the piano, and Tiad even taken lessons on the
harp; had attended lectures, and became
possessed of soma fifty technicals, and had
been heard to say donnez moidu cafe at the
breakfast table. She was tall, a good figure,
a little sallow, listlcosin her manners, affect
ing a kind of yawning ennuis and, when she
walked, a negro girl preceded, and another
followed her, whose duty required, that each
should drawoff one of her stoe killings, when
she retired to bed. She was, of course, the
undisputed belle and fine lady of the country,
indifferent and listless as she seemed, she
was awake to any infraction of her dignitv,
and exacted her tithe of homage to a tittle.
A kind of family compact between the
widowed fathers, had destined her for Nim
rod Buckskin, junior. Both the parties had
so understood it, so long and so early, that
the connexion had come to be contemplated
by them with as much indilfcrence, as though
it tiad actually taken place half a dozen years.
Although she had not a particle of predilec
tion for any thing appertaining to him but his
negroes and wraith, yet her optics wanted
not. the keenness to discern the immense im
portance of these. Moreover, a certain spice
ot bitterness, it is presumed, a heritage from!
ttic tirA mitner, arose in her bosom, in sur-j
veying the Yankee schoolmistress, blooming, j
buoyant, and erect, moving over tiie dewy I
sward in the conscious pride of usefulness,
witn her nuuierouslair-haired family skipping
onwards, like spring lambs, toward the
schoolhouse. A feverish presentment of
danger darted into her mind. A possession,
which seemed valueless where there was no !
competitor, assumed in her rye a fearful im
portance, as soon as symptoms of contingent
loss were descried in the distance.
Before tile first quart* r of Katharine's ser
vices had expired, witn ail acu'eness of tact
in that line, as 1 think, appropiiate to the
better half of the species, Miss Anne under
stood precisely what the schoolmistress was;
ami, without appearing as the accredited
source of t c information, contrived, that
every body should know, that K itharino was
a poor orphan, and that there would be no
want ot ,m efficient leader of an opposition
to her. Y\ -.1 intuitive sagacity, Katharine
divined the current that, would ’be likely to
spring from this undertow. But, partly from
the conviction, thal the straight and upright
course is the safest; partly from knowing,
that little sympathy is won by complaining”;
and partly from the pride of conscious worth
and integrity, she* made no inquiries nor con-1
tidants, com) lained not ; managed not ; but !
left events totake the natural chances in favor
of simple truth, in conflict with intrigue.
Whenever there was a walk or a parfv, a
horse race or a meeting, young Buckskin
continued to achieve his prescribed duty of
beau to Miss Anne, dragged to it, to use his
owe words, like a dog in a string. Katha
rine, interdicted by her employment from
many of those interviews, wisely evaded
appearing at the remainder, whenever there
was a decent pretext. Miss Anne keenly
comprehended whut a bitter infliction tins
was to her swain. As they took a morning
rule, they often passed the fair young mis
tress, thoughtfully wending her wav to her
noisy domain. As their proud coursers prim
ced by Ik r, ‘See,’Miss Anne would pro
nounce, with a scornful toes of her head,
‘where Mr. Buckskin’s thoughts arc wander
ing ! Strange, that the daughter ofastrolling
tin-pedlar, a mere Yankee rustic, should have
so subdued the proud heart of a bear slayer,
and heir expectant!’ On such occasions
young Nimrod gnawed his whip-handle, but
word spake not, precisely because the pre
dieament was perplexing beyond his powers
of dialogue. But as she proceeded, excited
by temper beyond her purpose, to asperse
Katharine’s character and motives, generosi
ty and justice would have produced a recoil
within him, if love had not. Such efforts
reacted upon the agent far more than the ob
ject. All helped to fan the flame of the
young hunter’s bosom, until the blind urchin
had done the work most effectually for the
heir. Love, to him entirely a new disease,
raged in his powerful frame, like a tropical
epidemic; and most palpably did he manifest
the spasms of this tcririble malady.
His grand object now was to make known
his deplorable case to the schoolmistress.—
Night and day was he vexing his brain to in
vent schemes and pretexts, tliat might bring
on a private interview. Ili3 purpose was too
palpable, not to be as fully comprehended by
iicr as himself.
But Miss Anne began to perceive, with
terror, that the stern and indepenent young
hunter was in daily danger of bursting his
manacles. .She saw, that iie had already for
gotti n, that she was an aristocrat, and heiress
of thirty negroes; and her rival an orphan
and a Yankee, she told her father her fears.
The intelligence fell upon him like
a thunder-stroke. He had never dreamed of
the possibility, that the compact between him
and his neighbor could fail. The consum
mation had been iiis anticipated resource for
replenishing his purse. He perceived, in a
moment that it was a case that called for
prompt action. lie was forthwith closeted
with the eider Buckskin, who trenibred o lx
informed, what he had half conjectured be
fore, that his son evidently slighted Miss
Anne, and loved the schoolmistress, who was
represented, as having brought about this
issue by the customary management of the
Yankees. "Squire Fillagree adverted, with
due solemnity, to the patrician taint would
be contracted by this misalliance. ‘Be true
to your honor,’ said he, vehemently, ‘and
your pl< dged word. Drive away the girl.
Squire Buckskin wrung his hands, in ago
ny. ‘I am afraid you have laid out more work
than 1 can accomplish. Both my son and
your daughter have always had their will, it
the son is like his father, you may as well
turn over the Bald Mountain, as change his
purposes, i his ail comes of Jetting young
people have their own heads.’
Alter much discussion, complaint, and
even menace, in which Buckskin indignantly
repelled some ol the charges against the
schoolmistress, it was agreed to attempt the
union by persuasion and gentle means.—
Buckskin could not deny, that his word war
pledged, and that he had constantly regarded
the union, as though it were already accom
plished. He had never imagined, more than
his unsuspecting' neighbor, that obstacles,
like the present, could arise. It was an as
tounding dilemma to prepare himself to re
munstrate with that son, whom he had suffer
ed to grow up as unyielding as a gnarled oak.
Nevertheless, he promised his neighbor that
he would attempt it, and ne sent a servant to
summon him, that morning, to prepare for a
private conversation with iiim on particular
business.
‘Am I than a nose of wax ?’ said he, to him
self. ‘ls the only advantage of being rich,
and an only child, to be transferred to a wife,
like a sack ofsalt ! lam strong, and can la
bor, thank Hod. I had rather marry the
schoolmistress, and settle on Congress land,
than Anne Fillagree*, with tlir**e such estates
as my father’s. He may make her his heir
ess, but never me her husband.’
The morning of the message was one of
the brightest of Indian summer, which pre
cede the final fall of the leaves.
‘She shall not escape me this time,’ said
Nimrod, in desperation,‘unless she con out
run me and ite made towards her in a gait
betwixt walking and running, but sufficient
ly indicating, that she could not avoid meet
ing him, just as she entered a thick grove on
her way. His strange approach inclined hei
to turn round.
‘3ly mind is up to it, Miss Katharine,’said
lie, in a husky tone of voice ‘Nothing situ!)
balk me. 1 hope you will not fly theltrack,
for 1 have something very particular to say to
you.’
Though actually terrified herself, she as
sumed a playful calmness, us she replied,
‘ •It. Buckskin, these lands, I believe,belong
to your father. \ou have, at least, an equal
right to walk here with me. You seem to
lie flurried. If you have any thing to say, 1
am ready to hear. Only use despatch, and
avoid frightening the children.’
Nimrod was at length in the position so
earnestly desired, alone in the wood with
her, and permitted to communicate what fie
had to say. But a sudden palsy seemed fo
have struck at once his faculties and his
speech ; and the more self-possessed Katha
rine felt divided between pity and laughter,
as she witnessed his ludicrous torment. At
length, sidling towards her, as she recoiled,
he said, in the hesitating manner 01 a stam
merer, and withaface alternately crimson and
pah* ;
‘A fine morning this, and the deer are down
from the mountains.’
‘I am 110 hunter, Sir.’
*\( ell, 1 admire a deer-hunt above every thing.’
‘ v ery like. It does not follow that 1 sUoufd,
though.’
‘lb.tyou might have the civility to seem to
. * know- nothing that you love, but what
1 w ill love too.’
ou are exceedingly complaisant. You do
not know, perhaps, that we cannot always love
what, we would.
‘3 es, 1 do, with a vengeance 5 and that it is
just as impossible not to love—v<>u sinile, as
though you had no heart. You lofilt, at this mo
ment, just as Miss Anne calls you, proud and
creel.’
‘Dees she charge rne so 1'
‘Yes, and w orse than that.'
‘f or the rest, I cannot say ; hut she is just in
her charges so far. lam both proud and cruel .’
•flan’s a woman for you ! Miss Katharine.
” uvever heard ef accusing ono's self? > It Kitaj
true, begging your pardon, and I tohJW
so, w hen she said it ; told her, tliat H • * SS '
as soon be prOud and cruel ,£*>■
went on to asperse you ; and I told
more she hated, ike more I loved l r,tllJt
her, I would give all the deer in *
all I expect beside in the w orld, and Unii
lives as inme, if 1 could be sure that " 8
my love.’
‘lndeed, Mr. Buckskin, you have sc 1
ways of talking, here in the West, tlntt !
quite sure 1 understand you. Under ' 1 at “
Mr. Buckskin, in New England, we sh!^' 1
this sort ot conversation mere folly.’ 011 “
‘Miss, Katharine, laugh at me, as
your eyes, after all, are not as erupt ' f
words. I love — as J
‘Hush, Mr. Buckskin. My children win 1
I ou lorget your w ell known ennanpm
Miss Fillagree; your feelings are n 0 ® eill *
mine. Please to terminate this convert”
let rne go on to my school.’ * Uotl <
‘You cannot stop, or silence me, now
may as well chain up the wind. Bv th
will never marry Miss Anne, disma^
‘I am not your guardian, and havens
to compel you. But I always consider, 7f
man 01 honor, and true to your engag^?
i hank you a thousand times, for thinkir
and so l am. The person lives not
charge me either by word, look, or
intentional deception. I never .rave he
pectations that I would offer myself.’ •
‘I have never charged you with it ivi
a 1 this to me T Hush, I say; don’t WL*.
1 children close at hand V } *
j ‘1 am above fearing children, or any th
.else. 1 will never marry her 1 love’—
‘Good morning, Mr. Buckskin. To
pay your declarations by equal frankn.*
assured, 1 will m verthink, for a niomuii'
aiding a son in disobedience to his lathe,'
Saying this, she hurried into the seta
and while he stood m a kind of quandar,
to what was to be done next, she gaility
her flock, shut the door, and locked it
| tl)C inside. He surveyed the premises a
incut, as a warrior does a cift ■
then went oil’, soliloquizing, ‘ that’s a st-v
bird, any how. The daughter 0 f
Yankee is up to any thing,’ and he fell
abusing the country in all the vio*or of ve
tion. ,
But while inatci fills for thickening then
were thus collecting, whether from thee
grin superinduced by the furious uproar
Squire Fillagrce and daughter, or whet
from listening to the earnest expostulation!
his son, or from a return of his oldcumplai
can never be certainty known; but suit*
that at this juncture, Squire Buckskin
dangerously sick. His deportment was
vowt and edifying. He absolved his son ft
a|l enjoyments made by him with Sqi
Fillagrce. He seemed never so calm,
when Katharine Fpooncr was his nurse
Before he died, when they happened tobe
gether beside his bed, he joined their han
and bade them love, and be happy, when
should be no more. He died after asi
illness. .
Soon after the funeral, the young mour
waited on his neighbor Fillagree, perempt
lv assuring him, that he had never, in
way, paid any serious court to his ilaugh
ami adding, that he never should. Filfaf
supressed bis tising rage, and urged t
the reputation of his daughter was commit
that his own honor was bound to his fath
contract, nd various other consideratit
not forgetting 'the contamination of bit
and the selfish intrigue and roan age nun
the school mistress. Buckskin remained
moveable. High words then ensued,
Fillegree talked of settling the difficult?!
rifles. But Buckskin continued cool and
vincible. Seing that nothing was gainot
this way. Foil to cursing the whole general
of Yankees, man, woman and child. '
race were born with an instinctive appe
to cheat and deceive. They would alw
go to their point by a crooked way, if th
was an alternative between a straight t
crooked one. He capped his climax of c
ses with a more vehement tirade against K:
arine.
B tekskin cool/ replied, tliat he was
to believe, that most of the stale calumi
against the Yankees had been invented
state of mind not unlike liis. As towha
had said of Katharine, had it been any <
man, he would have given him the lie in
throat.
But to shorten my tale, the proud and;
toral Miss Fillegree, forsecing the pro!)
issue of her hopes with Mr. Buckskin
east an anchor to the windwood, in a prit
marriage with a Yankee steamboat capti
u 1 10 had visited Mr. Buckskin for a load
salt. Her father was more outrageous tl
ever, hut in the midst of his paroxysm,
wedded pair siferdly slipped oil', arid |*
tiie honey moon in a trip to New Orleans.
Nimrod Buckskin, Esq. had now fewer 1
stacles in the way of private interviews w
Miss Spooner. Not that she wastoocasy
driving the terms of the contract; not(
she did not, as he complained, someth
lankcc him. But he was not cruel enot
to break down the impetuous spirit ol
young hunter, and the negotiation cadet
marriage. The school.mistress gave s?
tilty scholars, and confined hcrsAt 10
single* tall pupil, and a most docile sal*
he became ; though he, his father bd
him, and the whole generation had been
ted lor the most immoveable pcrscveranci
their way. It was a proverb in ike l ! ' J
that a common fence might a3 well tui
deer, as any thing, blit lus own will,
skin. It tiow goes near to amuse the fin
dog under the table, to see his master sit*
so gently, beside his beautiful bride, i°
tionaries, grammars, a globe, and tb?
with a soft and subdued tone, as though
were a school-boy. In less than six 1,101
after their marriage, Buckskin not only
gun to talk about literature, reviews and
fine arfs, but he actually perpetrated a W
verse sonnet, to his wife’s curls.
The politics of the place arc \ankfc
anti-Yankee, Buckskin leads the f^ l
and Fillagt , c the latter; though lie h a3a
in-law of that people. But his interest c
lv kicks tlio beam, Mr. Buckskin
the chief age nt 111 building uftandsou”
uud scliool-housi, and 111 establishing j
luge library. Under the new spirit, a*“
higher regulations tliat have arisen
(Concluded c* "2d iwtyA