CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWOWe set sail for Thousand Island Park and have a real good time, but Josiah murmurs about Coney.

CHAPTER TWO

WE SET SAIL FOR THOUSAND ISLANDPARK AND HAVE A REAL GOOD TIME,BUT JOSIAH MURMURS ABOUT CONEY.

Soon after, Whitfield wuz obleeged to go to Canada agin on that bizness and go through them Thousand Islands, and said he felt like jumpin’ off the boat, swimmin’ ashore and buyin’ the hull on ’em, they wuz so entrancin’ly lovely. But by holdin’ onto his principles and patience (of course he’d got quite a lot of patience, he’d been married a number of years) he managed to git through without jumpin’ off the boat and tacklin’ the job of buyin’ ’em, but said to himself, “If my life is spared to finish up that bizness I’ll come back and buy ten or a dozen.”

So sure enough on his way back he stopped off at Alexandria Bay and tackled a real estate agent to see what he would ask for a few islands close to the beautiful Bay. He had a idee, I spoze, of locatin’ the relation on his side and hern round on the different Islands, mebby an26island apiece. But to his surprise and horrow he found that the price for the smallest one wuz appallin’. But he vowed that if it took every cent of money he had (and he’s quite well off) he would own a piece of one big enough for a house.

So, after searchin’ both by water and by land, he found a buildin’ spot he felt able to buy. It wuz on one end of an island that wuz called Shadow Island, mebby because the shadder of the tall trees upon it wuz mirrored so plain in the water, makin’ it look as if there wuz another and fairer isle below.

There wuz a big empty house standin’ on one end of the Island, the owner bein’ in Europe and not wantin’ to rent it. There wuz a portion of it smooth and grassy, though the grass wuz kinder thin in places, the rocks come up so clost to the surface. But as I told Whitfield, stun is cleaner than dirt, and more healthy, unless you have ’em both throwed at you, in that case dirt is more healthy. He said the spot wuz dry and there wuz some hemlock and pine trees standin’ on one end on’t, and under ’em wuz a carpet of the rich brown leaves and pine needles that Whitfield thought would be beautiful for little Delight to play in.27

And on the spot he’d picked out for a house the soil wuz deep enough for a good suller. Tirzah Ann always did love sullers; she kinder took to ’em. She has to go down suller most the first thing when she comes home visitin’. She never seems to want anything, only to sort o’ look round. Some say her ma wuz so; but there is worse things to take to than sullers, and I wuz glad enough there wuz a place there where Tirzah Ann could have one.

Well, I declare I fell in love with the place myself. And he beset us to go out and see it, and early in the summer we sot sail, the hull on us, for the Thousand Island Park, a good noble campin’ ground, though middlin’ hot in some spots. I’ve been asked what made it so much hotter there round the Tabernacle than it was up to Summer Land, where the Universalists wuz encamped. And I don’t spoze it is because they believe in hotter places, but it kinder sets folks to thinkin’. Both places are pleasant and cool enough in moderate weather.

I hadn’t no idee that so beautiful a spot wuz so nigh us. For as near as we’ve lived to ’em, Josiah and I never laid eyes on them islands before. But I’ve hearn of folks that lived within’ hearin’ of Niagara Falls that never see28that grand and stupendous wonder of the world; they didn’t see it just because theycould. Queer, hain’t it? But it is a law of nater, and can’t be changed.

So one warm lovely mornin’ we sot out. We went by way of Cape Vincent which we found afterwards wuzn’t the nearest way, but we didn’t care, for it gin us a bigger and longer view of the noble St. Lawrence. Cape Vincent is a good-lookin’ place, though like Josiah and myself, it looks as if it had been more lively and frisky in its younger days. Pretty soon the big boat hove in sight. We embarked and got good seats, Whitfield full of bliss to think he wuz started for his islands.

And sure enough, tongue can never tell the beauty and grandeur we floated by that afternoon; nor pen can’t, no, a quill pen made out of a eagle’s wing couldn’t soar high enough. And my emotions, as I took in that seen, would been a perfect sight if anybody could got holt of ’em, as I rode along on that mighty river that is more like a ocean than a river, holdin’ the water that flows from the five great inland seas of North America, the only absolutely tide-less river in the world. It is so immense in size that the spring freshets that disturbs other big29rivers has no effect on its mighty depths, though once in a while, every three years, I think it is, the river draws in her old breath in an enormous sithe two or three feet deep, and stays so for some time. I d’no what makes it nor nobody duz. But truly there is enough in this old world to sithe about, as deep sithes as a mortal or a river can heave.

But to resoom forwards. The beautiful river bore us onwards, the green shores receedin’ on each side till pretty soon it got to be not much shore but seemin’ly all river, all freshness and freedom and blue sparklin’ water, and blue sky above. Nater wuz foldin’ us in her faithful arms and sweepin’ us away from the too civilized world into the freshness and onstudied beauty of her own hants.

I sot there perfectly entranced, and nothin’ occurred to break my rapt musin’s save my pardner’s request for a nut cake and a biled egg, and a longin’ murmer about Coney Island and a wish that he wuz started for there. But that didn’t seem to quell my emotions down. I handed the food to him with a hand that seemed some distance off from my real self.

The first big island we went by wuz called Carleton. Standin’ on it, loomin’ up tall and30solemn and mysterious, wuz some high stun towers. They stood up there as if tellin’ us how little we knew. They looked like great exclamation points set there to express the futility of our boasted knowledge.

Who built them chimblys? Who started the fires under ’em? Who drinked the tea that wuz steeped there? What kind of tea wuz it? Did the water bile? How did them tea drinkers feel and look and act while them chimblys carried off the smoke of their fire? What wuz their highest aspirations and idees? What wuz their deepest joy and keenest pain? What goles did they see ahead on ’em, and did they ever set down on them goles? I can’t tell nor Josiah can’t. A hundred years ago one moulderin’ old head-stun leaned over the grave of one of that company. Wuz it a glad or a sad heart that rested there in that ancient grave? Well, the sadness or the joy is jest as much lost and forgot as the smoke that wafted up towards the sky on the June and December mornin’s of 1600 odd.

As I thought of all these things, them lofty towers riz up like gigantick skeleton fingers outstretched mockin’ly. They seemed to be sayin’ to me and Josiah and the world at large, “You31may boast of your inventions, your marvels of this age, your civilization, your glory, your pryin’ into dark continents and unexplored regions of land and science. But what do you know anyway? Of what consequence are you? How soon your life and your memory will be utterly wiped out and forgotten. How soon the careless sun will forget the shadow you cast on the earth’s bosom. How soon the green grass of the forgettin’ earth will grow fresh and untrodden and cover up the traces of your eager footsteps, no matter how deep you thought you had made the track you walked in. How soon it is all wiped away as if it had never been. And Mom Nater, instead of weepin’ over your loss, goes on wreathin’ new flowers for new hands to gather, and mebby forgits to drop even a bud on the dusty mound where you lay sleepin’—the sleep of long forgetfulness.

“Of what account are you anyway? Poor blind voyagers, floatin’ by me jest as so many generations have gone past—canoe and white sails floatin’ along, floatin’ along, comin’ in view of me in the fur blue hazy distance, comin’ into the broad light before me and glidin’ off and disappearin’ in the shadows. Forever and ever, new ones comin,’ comin’, goin’, goin’, year after32year, generation after generation. And here we have stood calm, settled down, pintin’ up into the heavens where our history is gathered up, where the ones that made our history are gathered like the drops of spray from the river that has washed on the shores at our feet, and then evaporated up agin into the blue sky.”

And as I lost sight of them stun towers in the distance, they seemed to say, “Float on, poor voyagers; float along with your pitiful little crumbs of knowledge and wisdom carried so proudly. How soon the shadows will drift apart to take you into ’em and then close up and hold you there forever. And out of the shinin’ west new faces will come growin’ plainer and plainer as the boat draws near; they will shine out full and clear in front of me and then glide away into the mist—I shall lose sight of ’em jest as I do of you to-day. Comin’! comin’! goin’! goin’! They will look at me and wonder jest as you do to-day, and I will say to ’em jest as I do to you, ‘Hail and farewell!’”

Oh what emotions I did have! And I hadn’t more’n got to this pint in my meditatin’, when I hearn a voice on the off side on me (Josiah wuz on the nigh side).

The voice said, “Oh how I wish I could be33put back there jest a minute and see what them tall towers see when they wuz built!”

I felt that here wuz a congenial soul and I felt friendly to him as one would hail a familiar sail when they wuz floatin’ on foreign waters. The voice went on:

“Oh how I wish I could be a fly, and fly back there for a hour.”

Instinctively I looked round. The speaker weighed three hundred pounds if he did an ounce, and the idee of his bein’ turned into a fly seemed to bring down my soarin’ emotions more than considerable. Truly, we ort to be careful how we handle metafors. If he’d said he wanted to be changed into a elephant or a camel, or even a horse, it wouldn’t have seemed so curious, but a fly!!! Dear me!

Clayton is a good-lookin’ drowsy sort of a place, and kinder mixed up lookin’ from the aft forecastle, where I stood; but at last the little foot bridge that connected us with the shore wuz took up, the old boat gin a loud yell to skair the children and young folks back from the water’s edge, and the boat riders from fallin’ off the boat, and we sot out agin and floated along.

And now pretty soon the islands grew closter34and closter together, and we wouldn’t no more than go by one lovely one, than another more perfect lookin’ hove in sight, and then another and another, each one seemin’ly more beautiful than the last.

Some times we would go clost up to the shore, by islands whose green forests swep’ clear down to the water’s edge, makin’ the water look green and cool and shady, and the water would narrow itself down between two houses seemin’ly jest to be accomodatin’, and run along between ’em like a little rivulet with water lilies and buttercups dippin’ down into it on each side and boys wadin’ acrost. Jest think on’t, that big noble-sized river, dwindlin’ itself down jest to obleege somebody.

And sometimes big houses would loom up jest above the water’s edge, their daintily shaded winders lookin’ down into the green waves and reflected there, anon a stately mansion would set back a little with towers and pinnacles risin’ above the green trees, and cool shady walks windin’ by summer houses and bright posy beds, and gayly dressed folks walkin’ along the beautiful paths, and mebby a pretty girl settin’ in a boat, and a hull fleet of boats filled with gay pleasure seekers would glide along like gayly35plumed sea birds, and fur in the distance and on every side white sails would sail on like bigger birds of white plumage, all set out for the Isle of Happiness.

I pinted out the metafor to Josiah.

“Isle of Happiness?” he sez, sort o’ dreamy like. “That’s right. Serenus sez its everywhere, all over the place.”

“What place?” sez I, suspicion darkenin’ my foretop.

“Why, Coney Island,” sez he, “that’s the only Isle of Happiness I ever hearn tell on.”

I gin him a look. “Would you compare Coney Island with the beautiful Isle of Happiness that the poets sing on?” I sez, severe like.

“Where is it?” sez he.

“Why,” sez I, “It ain’t ennywheres. Its a metafor of the brain.”

“Is it ketchin’?” sez he. “Seems to me I’ve hearn tell of that disease before!” And then before I could gin him an indignant response, he stuck his fingers in his ears and sot there grinnin’ like a jimpanzee all the time I wuz speakin’ out my mind. But to resoom.

Anon a bridge would rise up its fairy arch and connect two islands together, each one holdin’ a mansion that looked like a palace,36and the bright awnin’s of the winders, the pillars and pinnacles, and gay colors, reflected in the water makin’ fairy palaces below as well as above, and made the hull seen as we journeyed on one of enchantment, that would made the grand Vizier of Bagdad turn green with envy. And every palace, mansion, and cottage had its pretty boat-house, with the water layin’ there smooth and invitin’ waitin’ for the boats to be lanched on its bosom, actin’ for all the world like a first class family stream, warranted to carry safe and not kick and act in the harness. And then mebby the very next minute it would swell itself out agin, and be twenty or thirty milds acrost, rushin’, hurryin’, and dashin’ itself along, hastenin’ to the sea.

Actin’ as if it had sunthin’ dretful pressin’ and important to tell it, and mebby it had. Who knows the language of the liquid waves as they whisper to each other on sunny beaches and at the meetin’ of placid waters, makin’ love to each other like as not—one tellin’ the other of the sweet cow-slip and ferny medders it had to leave at the loud call of its love, the River. The River murmuring back deep words of worship and gratitude at the feet of its newly arrived love.37

And then mebby the comin’ rivulet complains, moanin’ kinder low and sorrowful, as it swashes up on sharp stuny beaches, for what it left behind. Meadows and orchards full of May’s rosy blossoms, low grassy shores fringed with flowers and fresh, shinin’ grasses. And white, dimpled baby feet mebby that waded out in its cool shallows. Pretty faces that bent over its sheltered pools, as in a lookin’ glass, wavin’ locks that scattered gold light down into the water, bright eyes that shone like stars above it. I shouldn’t wonder a mite if it missed ’em and tried to say so in its gentle, pensive swish, swash, swish.

And then mebby the River resented it and kinder roared at it; mebby that is what it is sayin’ in its louder and more voylent tones, upbraidin’ it for lookin’ back to its more single and lonesome career, when it now hasHim!Him!Rush! Roar! Crush! Roar! Roar!

We can’t tell what the river is talkin’ about, in its calm gentle moods or its voylent ones. Who knows what the loud angry scream and screech of the deep waves say as the tempest and storm presses down on ’em and the Deep answers back in a voice of thunder, with its great heart beatin’ and heavin’ up and throbbin’38in its mad pain and frenzy? Who knows what it is roarin’ out, as it meets opposin’ forces, wave and rock, and dashes aginst ’em—fightin’ and dashin’ and tryin’ to vanquish ’em like as not? Who can translate the voice of the waters? I can’t, nor Josiah, nor nobody.

CHAPTER THREEWe seek Quiet and Happiness in their beautiful hants and mingle with the pleasure seekers of Alexandria Bay.

CHAPTER THREE

WE SEEK QUIET AND HAPPINESS IN THEIR BEAUTIFUL HANTS AND MINGLE WITHTHE PLEASURE SEEKERS OF ALEXANDRIA BAY.

Sometimes we would sail through the green water, so clost to the shore we could almost pick off some of the cedar and pine boughs as we went past, and we could look off into the green and sunny aisles of the trees into beautiful solitude and quiet. And we’d want to foller Quiet and Happiness back into them beautiful hants. And then agin, we’d float by an island where there would be lots of white tents, with wimmen and children and men and boys standin’ out wavin’ their handkerchiefs and shoutin’ to us, good natered and sociable.

And agin we’d go by a kinder high island with a tall, noble mansion standin’ up on it with towers and balconies, and winders all ornamented off, and flags a-flyin’. And every house and every tentin’ ground had their own little42wharfs runnin’ down into the water and boats hitched to ’em, jest as we’d hitch the old mair and colt to a hitchin’ post. And most of ’em had picturesque boat-houses painted up like the houses.

And all of these pretty houses and towers and flags and boats and everything wuz reflected down into the water, so there wuz handsome pictures above, and still more extremely beautiful ones below. For the sunlight shadow pictures wuz more beautiful fur than the reality, as is often the case. Every little sail-boat and canoe had its white shadder floatin’ along by it, shinin’ out from the blue and sea-green surface of the water.

Josiah wuz turrible interested in tryin’ to see if the reflections wuz exactly like the real seen up above, and he kept leanin’ over the edge of the boat tryin’ to turn his head upside down so’s to git a better look, and at last he nearly fell overboard into the water only I grabbed him quick.

Sometimes,—I don’t know what made it,—there would be long lines of light in different colors layin’ on the water; long waveless furrows of palest amethyst, lilock, pale rose-color, and pearl, soft green and blue, way off43and near to, wide and long and changin’ all the time. Why, some of the time it would seem as if the surface of the river wuz a shinin’ pavement made of them glowin’ and lustrous colors, that you might walk out on. And then agin, cold Reality would say to you that if you tried it, you’d most probable git drownded.

Anon we went by a island with a house standin’ on it, the hull thing seemin’ly nothin’ but house right in the strongest current of the river, and on the end of the island wuz a wheel fixed that run all the machinery of the house, lightin’ it, and pumpin’ water, and runnin’ the coffee mill and sewin’ machine, and rockin’ the cradle, for all I know.

The river waitin’ on ’em, and doin’ it cheerful. A soarin’ soul of power and might, so strong that a wink from its old eye-lids could swallow up a fleet of ships, and a flirt of its fingers overthrow a army of strongest men and toss ’em about like leaves on an autumn gale. To see such a powerful, noble body, that wuz used to doin’ the biggest kind of jobs, quietly bucklin’ down pumpin’ water to supply a tea-kettle, and churn a little butter, mebby!

Why, thinks I, what a lesson to hired girls that is, they’re always so fraid of doin’ a little44more than it is their place to do. They’re so fraid of settin’ back a chair, if it is their place to cook, and so afraid of bilin’ a egg if it is their place to slick up the house. Why, it wuz a lesson in morals to see that big grand river crumplin’ down to do housework for a spell.

Frontenac Island used to be called Round Island, I guess because it wuz kinder square in shape. It is a handsome place with a immense hotel[A]settin’ back most a quarter of a mild, and jined by a long railed balcony with another, makin’ room enough, it seemed to me, for an army. The broad, handsome path leadin’ up to it wuz bordered with beautiful flowers and shrubs, lookin’ lovely against the vivid green of the lawn.

I liked the name Frontenac first rate, and Point Vivian, and the name of the hotel on St. Lawrence Park, Lotus, seemed highly appropriate for the idle hours of rest and pleasure in the balmy summer-time.

And that park, while it could pass itself off for an island, wuz really the main land. And if you wanted a doctor on a dark, stormy night, you could get one without going on the wild45waves; and if you got skairt in the night and sot off to run, you could run as fur as you wanted to without gittin’ drownded.

I spoke to Josiah about this and he agreed with me, though he took the occasion to bring in Coney Island, much to my shagrin.

“I wish,” sez he, “I wish we could stop off somewheres and git a hot dog.”

“A hot dog?” sez I, consternation showin’ in my foretop. “Don’t you know that dogs roamin’ round loose and overhet in this sultry weather is apt to git mad and bite you?”

“’Tain’t that kind of animile I mean. I mean the kind they eat—in Coney Island.”

“Do they eat dogs in Coney Island?” I asks in a faint voice.

“Yes,” sez he.

“And would you eat enny on’t?”

“Why not?” sez he.

“Why not?” I cries regainin’ my voice to once. “Josiah Allen, have you became a canibal like them as lives in heathen lands and welcomes civilized folks with open mouths?”

“Oh,” sez he, “’tain’t nothin’ like that. These dogs hain’t made o’ people. No, they air made from sassiges and cooked in front of46a open grate fire. They call ’em hot dogs and Serenus sez—”

I didn’t gin him no chance to tell what Serenus sez. I sez many things to him there and then that wuz calculated to make him forgit Coney Island for awhile.

But to resoom forwards. We went by a big castle that wuz built up on a hill on a island of considerable size with quite a grove of trees on it. It wuz a noble, gray stun castle, with high towers and pinnacles shinin’ up toward the blue sky—Castle Rest, its name wuz, and I thought most probable anybody could rest there first rate. The one that built it and the one it wuz built for, had gone up into another castle to rest, the great Castle of Rest, whose walls can’t be moved by any earthly shock. A good little mother it wuz built for, a hard-workin’, patient, tired-out little mother, who wuz left with a house full of boys, and not much in the house, only boys. How she worked and toiled to keep ’em comfortable and git ’em headed right, washin’, cookin’, makin’, and mendin’; learnin’ ’em truthfulness, honesty, and industry with their letters; teachin’ ’em the multiplication table and the commandments; trimmin’ off their childish faults, same47as she did their hair; clippin’ ’em off with her own anxious lovin’ hands. Mebby puttin’ a bowl on their heads and cuttin’ round it, or else shinglin’ ’em. But ’tennyrate doin’ her best for them, soul and body, till she got ’em headed right. Some on ’em givin’ their hull lives to help men’s souls, lovin’ this old world mebby for their ma’s sake, because it held so many other good wimmen; for they jest about worshipped her all on ’em. And one of her boys, while the rest of ’em wuz helpin’ men and wimmen to build up better lives, he wuz buildin’ up his creed of helpfulness and improvement in bricks and mortar, tryin’ to do good, there hain’t a doubt on’t.

Mebby them walls didn’t stand so firm as the others did, and tottled more now and then. Strange, hain’t it, that solid bricks and stuns, that you feel and see, are less endurin’ and firm than the things you can’t see—changed lives, faith, hope, charity, love to God, good-will to man, and that whiter ideals and loftier aims and desires may tower up higher than any chimbly that ever belched out smoke.

Curious it is so, but so it is. But ’tennyrate this one son rode on his sleepin’ cars right into millions, and his first thought wuz how he could48please best the little Mother. So he built a castle for her. Tired little feet, walkin’ the round of humble duties, waitin’ on her small boys, did they ever expect to tread the walls of a castle? Her own too. I’ll bet it seemed dretful big to her, or would anyway if it hadn’t been so full, so runnin’ over full of the love and thoughtfulness of all of her boys—and Love will fill and glorify cottage or castle.

But here she come yearly and gathered her strong, stalwart sons about her, welcomin’ them with the same old tender smile, and constant love, and she, wropt completely round in the warm atmosphere of their love and devotion. Year after year went happily by till the last time came, and she went away out of her high castle into a still higher one. But I liked Castle Rest, for it seemed a monument riz up to faithful, patient mothers fur and near, rich and poor, by the hand of filial gratitude and love.

Comfort Island is real comfortable lookin’, and Friendly Island looked friendly and neighborly. And Nobby Island looked grand and stately instead of nobby, the great house settin’ up there on a high rock with big green lawns and windin’ paths under the shade trees, and the bright faced posies on its tall banks peekin’ over to see their faces in the deep water below, and mebby lookin’ for the kind master who had gone away to stay.

“I liked Castle Rest. It seemed a monument riz up to faithful, patient mothers by the hand of filial gratitude and love.” (See page 48)

And pretty soon our boat sorter turned round and backed up graceful into Alexandria Bay, and we hitched it there and lay off agin the harbor real neighborly. There wuz two hotels there in plain sight, each one on ’em as long as from our house to Miss Derias Bobbettses, all fixed off with piazzas and porticos and pillows and awnin’s and handsome colors from the basement clear up—up—up to the ruff, and the grounds laid out perfectly beautiful. Grass plats and terraces and long flights of stairs, and glowin’ flower beds and summer houses and long smooth walks and short ones, and everything. And folks all the time santerin’ up and down the terraces and walks, and up and down the piazzas and balconies.

It beat all what a lot of steam yots and sailboats there wuz all round us. It seemed as if every island had a boat of its own and had sent ’em all to Alexandria Bay that mornin’. I thought mebby they’d hearn we wuz comin’, and they wuz there to git a glimpse of us. But Whitfield said the boats come to git the mail, and mebby it wuz so.51

Every yot wuz tootin’ on its own separate engine; it made the seen lively but not melogious. One of the boats had a whistle that sounded as if you’d begin to holler down real low and then let your voice rise gradual till you yelled out jest as loud as you could, and then died down your yell agin real low.

It sounded curous. I hearn it wuz tryin’ to raise and fall the eight notes, and it riz and fell ’em I should judge.

Some of the yots had a loud shrill whistle, some a little, fine clear one; then one would belch out low and deep some like thunder. And anon our steamer thundered forth its own deep belchin’ whistle, and turned round graceful and backed off, and puffed, puffed back agin down the bay.

As we turned round, a bystander, standin’ by, spoke of Bonnie Castle. It stood up sort o’ by itself on a rock one side of Alexandria Bay. And I wondered if Holland’s earnest soul that had thought so much on’t once, ever looked down on it now. For instance when the full moon wuz high in the cloudless sky, and Bonnie Castle riz up fair as a dream, with blue clear sky above, and silence, and deep blue shinin’ water below—and silence. And mebby some52night bird singin’ out of the pretty green garden to its mate in the cool shadows. I wondered if the lovin’ soul who created it ever looked down from the blessed life, with love and longin’ to the old earth-nest—home of his heart. I spozed that he did, but couldn’t tell for certain. For the connection has never been made fast and plain on the Star Route to Heaven. Love rears its stations here and tries to take the bearin’s, but we hain’t quite got the wires to jine. Sometimes we feel a faint jarrin’ and thrill as if there wuz hands workin’ on the other end of the line. We feel the thrill, we see the glow of the signal lights they hold up, but we can’t quite ketch the words. We strain our ears through the darkness—listening! listening!

Right acrost from Alexandria Bay is Heart Island; you’d know it at night if you couldn’t see the island, for a big heart of flashin’ electric lights is lifted up on a high pole, that can be seen fur and near. As well as the big shinin’ cross of light that is lifted up every night on another island nigh by in memory of a sweet soul that used to live there, and is lookin’ down on it now, more’n as likely as not.

Heart Island is owned by a rich New York man. It is almost covered with buildin’s of53different sizes and ruined castles (the ruins all new, you know; ruined a-purpose), the buildin’s made of the gray stun the island is composed of. And there are gorgeous flower beds and lawns green as emerald, and windin’ walks lined with statuary, and rare vases runnin’ over with blossoms and foliage, and a long, cool harbor, fenced in with posies where white swans sail, archin’ up their proud necks as if lookin’ down on common ducks and geese. There wuz ancient stun architecture, and modern wood rustic work, and I sez to Josiah, “They believe in not slightin’ any of the centuries; they’ve got some of most every kind of architecture from Queen Mary down to Taft.”

And he sez, “It is a crackin’ good plan too; amongst all on ’em they’re sure to git some of the best.”

“Yes,” sez I, “and it shows a good-hearted sperit too, not wantin’ to slight anybody.”

Jest then I heard a bystander say, “Amongst all the places to the Islands, this place and Browney’s take the cake.”

Brownings is another beautiful place just round the corner where the flower-garlanded rocks looks down into the deep clear waters anxious to see their own beauty. And a handsome54residence a little back and a big farm full of everything desirable.

Only a little way acrost from Alexandria Bay is Westminster Park, a handsome little village, with a big hotel set back under its green trees and lots of cottages round it. A nice meetin’ house too, and everything else for its comfort. And all the way to the Methodist place we wuz bound for, fair islands riz up out of the water, crowned with trees and houses and tents and everything. No sooner would you go by one, than another would hove in sight. Anon we come in sight of a little village of houses fringin’ the shore, called Fair View, and our next stoppin’ place wuz the Camp ground. I’d hearn, time and agin, they wuz so strict there you’d have to pay for every step you took from the ship to your boarding place. And if you said anything, you would have to pay so much a word; or if you sithed, you’d have to pay so much a sithe, or breathe deep you would have to pay accordin’ to the deepness of your breath.

But it wuzn’t no such thing; we never paid a cent, and I sithed deep and frequent on the way up from the wharf, for weariness lay holt of me and also little Delight. She preferred hangin’ onto me ruther than her parents. And55I’d hearn that you’d be fined for laughin’, and for a snicker or giggle; but I heard several snickers (Whitfield is full of fun, and young folkswillbe young folks, and talk and laugh) and not one cent did we see asked for ’em. Why, I’d hearn that they wouldn’t let a good smart whiff of wind land there on Sunday. The trustees kep’ ’em off and preached at ’em, and made ’em blow off Clayton way.

And I wuz told that the Sea Serpent (you know he always duz like summer resorts), took it into his head to go to the Islands one summer and happened to git to the Thousand Island Park on Sunday, and wuz swoshin’ round in the water in front of the dock, kinder switchin’ his tail and actin’. And the trustees got wind on’t and went down with rails and tracts and they railed at him, and exhorted him and made him fairly ashamed of bein’ round on Sunday. And wantin’ to do a clean job with him, bein’ dretful mad at his bein’ out on the Sabbath day, they got a copy of their laws and restrictions governin’ the Park, and they said when the serpent hearn that long document read over, he jest switched his tail, kinder disgusted like, and turned right round in the water and headed off for Kingston.56

But I don’t believe a word on it. I don’t believe much in the sea serpent anyway, and I don’t believe it ever come nigh the Thousand Island Park grounds—only the usual old serpent of Evil, that the good Christians there fight agin all they can.

[A]The great hotel which Samantha here describes was destroyed by fire in August last.

The great hotel which Samantha here describes was destroyed by fire in August last.

CHAPTER FOURWe enjoy the hospitalities of Whitfield’s aunt’s boardin’-house at the Park, and my pardner goes a-fishin’

CHAPTER FOUR

WE ENJOY THE HOSPITALITIES OF WHITFIELD’S AUNT’S BOARDIN’-HOUSE AT THE PARK, AND MY PARDNER GOES A-FISHIN’

Whitfield’s aunt kep’ a small boardin’-house at the Park. Of course we knew it would be fur more genteel to go to the hotel, which loomed up stately, settin’ back on its green lawn right in front of us, as the ship swep’ into the harbor.

But Josiah sez, “The tender ties of relationship hadn’t ort to, in factmusn’tbe broke by us, and Miss Dagget would probable feel dretful hurt if she knowed we wuz to the Park and had passed her coldly by.” (She didn’t ask half so much for our boards as the hotel did; that wuz where the boot pinched on my pardner’s old feet.)

Whitfield said we had better go to Aunt Dagget’s that night anyway, so we went. We found she lived in a good-lookin’ cottage, and we had everything we needed for comfort. She wuz a tall, scrawny woman, with good60principles and a black alpacky dress, too tight acrost the chest, but she seemed glad to see us and got a good supper, broiled steak, creamed potatoes, and cake, and such, and we all did justice to it—yes indeed.

After supper we walked out to the post office, and round in front of the houses—very sociable and nigh together they are. It must be dretful easy to neighbor there, most too easy. Why, I don’t see how a woman can talk to her husband on duty, if he goes in his stockin’ feet, or stays out late nights, or acts; I don’t see how she can do the subject justice and not have everybody in the encampment know it. Too neighborly by fur!

But off some little distance, good-lookin’ houses stood with Seclusion and Solitude guardin’ their front doors—likely guards them be, and beloved by Samantha. And back of the Island, glancin’ through the trees, wuz the same clear blue sparklin’ waters of the St. Lawrence. They said they wuz Canada waters, but I didn’t see no difference, the water wuz jest as blue and sparklin’ and clear.

We retired early and our beds wuz quite comfortable, though as I told Josiah, I had seen bigger pillers, and I wuz more settled in my61mind, as to whether the feathers in ’em wuz geese or hen.

He said he wuz glad to lay his head down on anything that would hold it up.

And after I remembered that Miss Dagget’s bed wuz jest the other side of the thin board partition. I sez, “Yes, Josiah, with weariness and a easy conscience, any bed will seem soft as downy pillows are.”

The next day I felt pretty mauger and stayed in my room most of the time, though Josiah and the children sallied round considerable. But after supper I felt better and went out and set down on the piazza that run along the front of the house, and looked round and enjoyed myself first rate.

Way off, between the trees and between the houses, I could see the dear old Saint meanderin’ along, blue and gold colored where the sun struck the shining surface. And, dearer sight to me, I could catch a glimpse through the interstices of the trees, of my beloved pardner and little Delight in her white dress and flutterin’ blue ribbons walkin’ along by his side. Whitfield and Tirzah Ann had gone santerin’ off some time before.

The hour and the seen wuz both beautiful62and soothin’. The little streets between the houses stretched out on every side, some on ’em bordered with trees. Gay awnings wuz over the doors and winders, flowering shrubs and posies set off the yards, and the piazzas ornamented by the good-lookin’ folks settin’ out on chairs and benches, the wimmen in light, pretty summer gowns, and there wuz babies in their perambulators perambulatin’ along and pretty children runnin’ and playin’ about.

Anon or oftener a group of good-lookin’ cottagers would sally out of their houses and santer along, or a pedestrian in a hurry would walk by. It seemed like the land where it is always afternoon, that I’d hearn Thomas J. read about,

The island valley of Avilion,Where falls not rain or hail or any snow,Nor ever wind blows loudly—Deep meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawnsAnd bowery hollows, crowned by summer sea.

It wuz a fair seen! a fair seen! and my soul seemed attuned to its perfect harmony and peace. When all of a sudden I hearn these strange and skairful words comin’ like a sharp shower of hail from a clear June sky:—

“Malviny is goin’ tofreezeto-night!”63

There wuz a skairful axent on the word “freeze” that seemed to bring all of Malviny’s sufferin’s right in front of me. But so strong is my common sense that even in that agitatin’ time I thought to myself, as I wiped the perspiration from my foretop, “Good land! what is Malviny made of to be even comfortable cool to say nothin’ of freezin’.” And my next thought wuz, “What sort of a place have I got into?” Truly, I had read much of the hardenin’ effects of fashion and style, but I little thought they would harden so fearful hard. None of these men and wimmen settin’ on them piazzas had gin any more attention to the blood-curdlin’ news that a feller creeter so nigh ’em wuz perishin’, no more than if they’d seen a summer leaf flutterin’ down from the boughs overhead.

I thought of the rich man and Lazarus, only kinder turned round and freezin’ instead of burnin’. I felt bad and queer. But anon he drew nigh the porch I wuz settin’ on and looked up into my face with the same harrowin’ statement, “Malviny is a-goin’ to freeze to-night!”

And I said, with goose pimples runnin’ down my back most as bad as I mistrusted as Malviny had, “Who is Malviny?”64

He stopped and sez, “She is my wife.”

His indifferent mean madded me and I sez, “Well, you good-for-nothin’ snipe you, instead of traipsin’ all over the neighborhood tellin’ of your wife’s state, why hain’t you to home buildin’ a fire and heatin’ soap stuns and bricks, and steepin’ pepper tea?”

“What for?” sez he, amazed like.

“Why, to keep Malviny from freezin’.”

“I don’t want to stop it,” sez he.

Sez I, “Do you want your wife to freeze?”

“Yes,” sez he.

Sez I, lookin’ up and apostophrizin’ the clear sky that looked down like a big calm blue eye overhead, “Are such things goin’ on here in a place so good that folks can’t git a letter Sundays to save their lives, or embark to see their friends if they’re dyin’ or dead; is such a place,” I groaned, “to condone such wickedness!”

Sez the man, “What harm is there in Malviny’s freezin’?”

Sez I, “You heartless wretch, you! if I wuz a man I’d shake some of the wickedness out of you, if I had to be shot up the minute afterwards!”

“What harm is there in freezin’ ice-cream?” sez he.65

Sez I, astounded, “Is that what Malviny’s freezin’?”

“Yes,” sez he.

I sunk back weak as a cat.

Sez he, “I bring it round to the cottages every time Malviny freezes; they give me their orders if they want any.”

“Well,” sez I in a faint voice, “I don’t want any.” Truly I felt that I had had enough chill and shock for one day.

Well, Whitfield and Tirzah Ann come in pretty soon and she wuz all enthused with the place. They’d been up the steep windin’ way to Sunrise Mountain, and gazed on the incomparable view from there. Looked right down into the wind-kissed tops of the lofty trees and all over ’em onto the broad panaroma of the river, with its innumerable islands stretched out like a grand picture painted by the one Great Artist. They had seen the little artist’s studio, perched like a eagle’s nest on top of the mountain. Some dretful pretty pictures there, both on the inside of the studio and outside.

And they had stopped at the Indian camp, and Tirzah bought some baskets which they see the Indians make right before their eyes out of the long bright strips of willow. And I spoze,66seein’ the brown deft fingers weavin’ their gay patterns, Tirzah Ann wuz carried back some distance into the land of romance and Cooper’s novels, and “Lo the Poor Indian” Stories. She’s very romantick.

And she’d gone into the place where they blow glass right before your eyes and then cut your name on it. I couldn’t do it to save my life. I might jest as well give right up if I wuz told that I had got to blow jest a plain bottle out of some sand and stuff. And they blow out the loveliest, queerest things you ever see: ships in full sail with the ropes and riggin’ of the most delicate and twisted strands of brilliancy; tall exquisite vases with flowers twisted all about ’em. Posies of all kinds, butterflies, cups, tumblers, etc. They had been into all the little art and bookstores, full of pictures and needle work, shells, painted stuns, books, and the thousand and one souvenirs of all kinds of the Thousand Islands. When Josiah come in he said he had interviewed ten or a dozen men about Coney Island—all on ’em had been there—I wuz discouraged, I thought I might jest as well let him loose with Serenus.

Well, Whitfield of course couldn’t wait another minute, without seein’ Shadow Island,67so the next day we went over there right after dinner. Josiah proposed enthusiastickly to fish on the way there. Sez he, “Samantha, how I do wish we could git a periouger to go in.”

“A what?” sez I.

“A periouger,” sez he, “that we could go fishin’ in, a very uneek boat.”

“Uneek!” sez I, “I should think as much. Where did you ever ever hear on’t?”

“In Gasses Journal, Gass used to go round in ’em.”

Sez I, “That book wuz published before George Washington wuz born, or Bunker Hill thought on.”

“What of it?” sez he; “that wouldn’t hender a periouger from bein’ a crackin’ good convenience to go round on the water in, and I’m goin’ to try to git one to-day. I bet my hat they have ’em to Coney Island.”

I tried to stop him. I didn’t want him to demean himself before the oarsmen and onlookers by tryin’ to find boats that hadn’t been hearn on in hundreds of years. But I couldn’t git the idea out of his head till after dinner. Then he wuz more meller and inclined to listen to reason. It wuz a oncommon good meal, and he felt quite softened down in his mean by the time he finished. And Whitfield’s boatman he’d engaged come with a good sizeable boat and we sot sail for Shadow Island.

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