Adele Dubois Part 15

"So do I," said Mr. Norton. "'Tis a libel on them. They couldn't go such a humdrum gait".

"That reminds me", said Mr. Somers, "of a very curious and original painting I saw in England. It represented the ghost of a flea".

"Ridiculous!" exclaimed John. "You are romancing, Ned".

"I am stating a fact. It was painted by that eccentric genius, Blake, upon a panel, and exhibited to me by an aquaintance, who was a friend of the artist".

"What was it like?" said John.

"It was a naked figure with a strong body and a short neck, with burning eyes longing for moisture, and a face worthy of a murderer, holding a b.l.o.o.d.y cup in its clawed hands, out of which it seemed eager to drink. The shape was strange enough and the coloring splendid,--a kind of glistening green and dusky gold,--beautifully varnished. It was in fact the spiritualization of a flea".

"What a conception!" exclaimed Mr. Norton. "The artist's imagination must have been stimulated by intense personal sufferings from said insect. The savage little wretch. How did you manage the diet, Mr.

Lansdowne?" continued the missionary, a smile twinkling all over his face.

"Ah! yes, the _table d'hote_. I found eggs and potatoes safe, and devoted myself to them, I was always sure to get snagged, when I tried anything else".

"Verily, there is room for improvement in the mode of living, among His Majesty's loyal subjects of this Province. I should say, that in most respects, they are about half a century behind the age", said Mr.

Norton.

"How did you ascertain I was here, John?" inquired Mr. Somers.

"I learned at Fredericton that you had left with Mr. Dubois, and I obtained directions there, for my route. Really", added John, "you are fortunate to have found such an establishment as this to be laid up in".

"Yes. G.o.d be thanked for the attention and care received in this house and for the kindness of this good friend", said Mr. Somers, laying his hand affectionately on the missionary's arm.

"But this Mummychog", said John, breaking into a clear, musical laugh, "that I came across last night. He is a curiosity. That, of course, isn't his real name. What is it?"

"He goes by no other name here", replied Mr. Norton. "I met him", said John, "a few rods from here", and asked him if he could inform me where Mr. Dubois lived. "Well, s'pose I ken", he said. After waiting a few minutes for some direction, and none forthcoming, I asked, "will you have the goodness to show me the house, sir?" "S'pose you hev particiler business there", he inquired. "Yes. I have, sir". "Well! I s'pose ye are goin' fur to see _hur_?"

"Hur!" I exclaimed, my mind immediately reverting to the worthy ancient, who a.s.sisted Aaron in holding up the hands of Moses on a certain occasion, mentioned in the old Testament. "Hur! who is Hur? I am in pursuit of a gentleman,--a friend of mine. I know no other person here". "O well! come then; I'll show ye". As he was walking along by Caesar's side, I heard him say, apparently to himself, "He's a gone 'un, any way".

"He is a queer specimen", said Mr. Norton. "And now I think of it, Mr.

Somers, Micah told me this morning, that a good horse will be brought into the settlement, by a friend of his, in about a week. He thinks, if you like the animal, he can make a bargain and get it for you".

"Thank you for your trouble about it, my dear sir", replied Mr.

Somers.

"Two weeks then, Ned", said John, "before the Doctor will let you start. That will give me ample opportunity to explore the length of the Miramichi River. What are the fishing privileges in this region?"

"Fine,--remarkably good!" said the missionary.

In the course of a few minutes, John, with the a.s.sistance of Mr.

Norton, arranged a plan for a fishing and hunting excursion, upon which, if Micah's services could be obtained, he was to start the next day.

After inquiring for the most feasible way of transmitting a letter, he retired to relieve the anxiety of his parents by informing them of the success of his journey. As might have been expected, after a somewhat detailed account of his travels, the remainder of his epistle home was filled with the effervescence of his excitement at having found Mr.

Somers, and thus triumphantly accomplished the object of his expedition.

Beneath the flash and foam of John's youthful spirit, there were depths of hidden tenderness and truth. He was warmly attached to his uncle. The difference in age between them was not great, and even that, was considerably diminished by the peculiar traits of each. John possessed the hardier features of character. He had developed a strong, determined will and other granite qualities, which promised to make him a tower of defence to those that might shelter themselves beneath his wing. These traits, contrasting with his own, Mr. Somers appreciated and admired. They imparted to him a strengthening influence. John, on the other hand, was charmed with the genial disposition, the mobile and brilliant intellect of his uncle, and the ready sympathy he extended him in his pursuits. In short, they were drawn together in that peculiar, but not uncommon bond of friendship, symbolized by the old intimacy of the ivy and the oak.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE FLOWER UNFOLDING.

There is nothing in human life more lovely than the transition of a young girl from childhood into womanhood. It suggests the springtime of the year, when the leaf buds are partly opened and the tender blossoms wave in the genial sunshine; when the colors so airy and delicate are set and the ethereal odors are wafted gently to the senses; when earth and air are filled with sweet prophecies of the ripened splendor of summer. It is like the moments of early morn, when the newly risen sun throws abroad his light, giving token of the majestic glories of noon-day, while the earth exhales a dewy freshness and the air is enchanted by the songs of birds, just wakened from their nests. It recalls the overture of a grand musical drama introducing the joyous melodies, the wailing minors, the n.o.ble chords and sublime symphonies of the glorious harmony.

The development of the maiden is like the opening of some lovely flower-bud. As life unfolds, the tender smile and blush of childhood mingle with the grace of maidenly repose; the upturned, radiant eye gathers new depths of thought and emotion; the delicate features, the wavy, pliant form, begin to reveal their wealth of grace and beauty.

Sometimes, the overstimulated bud is forced into intense and unnatural life and bloom. Sometimes, the development is slow and almost imperceptible. Fed gently by the light and dews of heaven, the flower, at length, circles forth in perfected beauty. Here, the airy grace and playfulness of a Rosalind, or the purity and goodness of a Desdemona is developed; there, the intense, pa.s.sionate nature of a Juliet, or the rich intellect and lofty elegance of a Portia.

But, how brief is that bright period of transition! Scarcely can the artist catch the beautiful creation and transfer it to the canvas, ere it has changed, or faded.

"How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair!"

Adele Dubois had just reached this period of life. Her form was ripening into a n.o.ble and statuesque symmetry; the light in her eyes shot forth from darkening depths; a faint bloom was creeping into her cheek; a soft smile was wreathing those lips, wrought by nature, into a somewhat haughty curve; the frank, careless, yet imperious manner was chastening into a calmer grace; a transforming glory shone around her, making her one of those visions that sometimes waylay and haunt a man's life forever.

Her physical and intellectual growth were symmetrical. Her mind was quick, penetrative, and in constant exercise. Truthful and upright, her soul shone through her form and features, as a clear flame, placed within a transparent vase, brings out the adornments of flower, leaf, and gem, with which it is enriched.

In a brown stone house, in the city of P., State of ----, there hangs in one of the chambers a picture of Adele, representing her as she was at this period of her life. It is full of beauty and elegance.

Sun-painting was an art unknown in the days when it was executed. But the modern photographist could hardly have produced a picture so exquisitely truthful as well as lovely.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE DEER HUNT.

Early in the morning, John Lansdowne, having donned his hunting suit and taken a hasty breakfast, seized his rifle and joined Micah, already waiting for him on the lawn in front of the house.

He was equipped in a tunic-like shirt of dressed buckskin, with leggings and moccasins of the same material, each curiously embroidered and fringed. The suit was a present from his mother,--procured by her from Canada. His head was surmounted by a blue military cap and his belt adorned with powder pouch and hunting-knife. Micah with a heavy blanket coat of a dingy, brown color, leggings of embroidered buckskin, skull cap of gray fox skin, and Indian moccasins; wore at his belt a butcher knife in a scabbard, a tomahawk, otter-skin pouch, containing bullets and other necessaries for such an expedition.

In the dim morning light they walked briskly to a little cove in the river, where Micah's birchen canoe lay, and found it already stored with supplies for the excursion. There were bags of provisions, cooking utensils, a small tent, neatly folded, Micah's old Dutch rifle, fishing tackle, and other articles of minor account.

"Ever traviled much in a canoo?" inquired Micah.

"None at all", replied John.

"Well, then I'll jest mention, yeou needn't jump into it, like a catameount rampagin' arter fodder. Yeou step in kinder keerful and set deown and don't move reound more'n ye ken help. It's a mighty crank little critter, I tell ye. 'Twould be tolable unconvenient to upset and git eour cargo turned into the stream".

"It would indeed!" said John. "I'll obey orders, Mummychog".

John entered the canoe with tact, apparently to Micah's satisfaction and soon they were gliding down the river, now, owing to the long-continued drought, considerably shrunk within its banks.