The Lost Hunter Part 36

"'Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth,'" pursued the old man. "How many evils had I escaped had I heeded the advice I give!

But it is the old tale of human folly. The aged with his experience is counted for nothing. My son," he added impressively, laying his hand on Pownal, "behold these furrows on a withered face. They are the traces of unrestrained pa.s.sion. I forgot my Creator in the days of my youth."

He turned and walked away, but presently retraced his steps and took up the train of thought he seemed to have dropped.

"But he forgot not me. His mercies are over all his works. Even when I was a great way off my Father saw me, and had compa.s.sion, and ran, and fell on my neck, and kissed me. And now will he put the best robe upon me, and a ring upon my finger, and shoes upon my feet."

Such was the excited and hoping condition of Holden's mind as the vessel approached the port of New York, which it reached the next morning. Although then a place of great trade, and giving indubitable promise of what it has since become, New York was far, very far from approaching its present splendor and magnificence, which ent.i.tle it to vie with the most brilliant capitals of the world. Even then the ships of all nations were to be found at its wharfs, but the taper masts rising into the sky, formed not a cordon so immense as that which now, like a forest stripped of its leaves, girts it round. Nor from even its most fashionable portions, the residence and resort of the wealthy and the gay, had all the humbler buildings, which belonged to its origin, disappeared. Alongside of the modern brick, or occasionally stone mansion of four stories, that style of architecture, dear yet to the heart of a genuine Knickerbocker of which Holland boasts, if not the invention, at least the perfectioning, reared its pointed gable, and rose like Jacob's ladder with parapeted roof into the sky. But slightly injured by weather in a climate singularly clear and pure, under a sky untarnished by the dismal clouds from bituminous coal fires, which enshroud less favored lands, the brave little Dutch bricks held their own with a st.u.r.diness becoming their ancestry. Those monuments of a simpler age have almost disappeared, and the ingenuity they exhibited, and the taste of which they were the specimens, are likely soon to be remembered only as steps in the worlds pupilage.

But, however the fashions of man may change, the grand features of nature remain eternal. Beautifully bright then as now sparkled in the light of the May morning sun, the waves of that glorious bay, unrivalled but by one, while little boats and pinnaces darting about in all direction like sea-birds, gave animation to a scene, which without the accompaniment would have possessed peculiar interest to one who, like Holden, had lived so long in seclusion. As the vessel turned around Castle Garden to seek her berth in the North River, and his eyes ran over the islands and Jersey sh.o.r.e, and up the n.o.ble stream, and one by one he recognized the objects he had seen in his youth, it seemed as if feelings, supposed dead, were coming to life, and nature re-a.s.suming the gala garb which she once wore.

But, independent of the causes that made the scene peculiarly attractive to our traveller, it is impossible to approach a large city after a long absence without excitement. The aggregation of a ma.s.s of human beings full of life, and instinct with its hopes, and fears, and joys, and sorrows, and pa.s.sions, acts like a stimulus. Nature is beautiful, and art glorious, but the object of deepest interest to man is man himself. In his fellow beings he sees reflected his own interior world, a world of mystery and marvel, whence any news is welcome that will impart information respecting its light and shade, its harmonies and discords. He cannot stand outside, a looker-on, separate and apart, having no portion therein: he is in it and of it, an integral atom, a something which cannot be isolated if it would.

The packet, after some delay, occasioned by the occupation of her berth by a casual trader, was finally able, by advancing one vessel, and pushing another back, and shoving a third on one side, to approach the wharf at the foot of Courtlandt street, and land her pa.s.sengers.

A coach was presently procured, and Holden, who had been invited by Pownal, accompanied his young friend. The distance up Courtlandt street, and down Broadway to the house of the elder Pownal, which was near the Battery, was short, and therefore even had the carriage proceeded more leisurely, and the Recluse been disposed to observation, he could have seen but little, and that in an unsatisfactory manner. Pownal felt some curiosity respecting the impression which would be made by the turmoil of a large city upon one who for so many years had excluded himself from the crowded haunts of men, and therefore watched his companion with no little interest; but Holden, as if he divined his thoughts, and was displeased at the discovery, or for some other unknown reason, betrayed no change of feeling, or conduct, but was as impa.s.sive and indifferent to all pa.s.sing around him as if he were in his own hut. So far from showing any emotion, he threw himself into a corner of the carriage, and shut his eyes as if desirous to exclude objects of which he was regardless, or which only annoyed him. The young man knew not exactly how to interpret the other's conduct, but was too much accustomed to his habits to feel surprise, and respected him too greatly to desire to intrude into anything he wished to conceal.

The carriage stopped before a fine, large brick mansion, worthy of a merchant prince, fronting the Battery, and, of course, commanding a view through the trees which shaded the greensward of that beautiful spot, of the blue water, and islands, and the Jersey sh.o.r.e sweeping away in the distance. Fashion, always capricious in her movements, has deserted the lower part of Broadway and the Battery, by far the most charming quarter of the city, to emigrate to a part of the island on which New York is built, more remote from the marts of trade. Immense warehouses occupy the sites where once stood the abodes of elegance and hospitality, and the chaffer of traffic has succeeded to social welcomes and greetings of conviviality.

The black servant who came to the door at the ringing of the bell, stared with astonishment at the unusual figure of Pownal's companion, but if disposed, as is the habit of his cla.s.s, to be deficient in respect to one not bearing the conventional stamp, a glance of the young man's eye, and his marked deference toward the stranger, to say nothing of the latter's natural air of authority, soon restored his courtesy and usual obsequious attention. It was, therefore, with a gracious expression of countenance and polite bow, that Mr. Johnson ushered the two gentlemen into the parlor.

"Where is Mr. Pownal, Johnson?" inquired the young man.

"He is out of town, sir, with the whole family. I believe he went to Albany, sir."

"Is Mrs. Corning in the house?"

"Mrs. Corning is just come back from market, sir. I heard her voice only a minute ago."

"Say, I would like to speak to her."

In a few moments, Mrs. Corning, the housekeeper, a respectable-looking woman, of some forty-five years of age, made her appearance, and testified a hearty pleasure at seeing the young man, whom she kissed with great affection, and by whom she was received with every mark of regard.

The family, she said, in reply to the questions of Pownal, had been absent, at Albany, where they were, on a visit to some relatives, for three weeks, but were daily expected home. She was _so_ sorry they were absent. They were all well, and would be so glad to see him looking so well. She thought she had never seen him looking better.

There was nothing like country air to paint the cheeks.

Pownal thought this a good opportunity to commend his friend to the favorable consideration of the housekeeper, and said--

"That I am well, I probably owe to the kindness of this gentleman, who will remain with us during my stay in town," at the same time, introducing Holden to the lady.

"Your friends, Mr. Thomas," said Mrs. Corning, courtesying to Holden, "will always be welcome in this house. But, tell me, have you been sick?--I'm sure, you don't look so--or some accident, or"----

"I will tell you all about it, by-and-by. At present, a cup of coffee."

"My! what a thoughtless creature I am!" exclaimed Mrs. Corning. "The pleasure of seeing you again, put all idea of breakfast out of my mind. I never thought of asking, if you had had any. But, it shan't be long before that mistake shall be remedied."

So saying, good Mrs. Corning bustled out of the room, on hospitable thoughts intent, and, in a short time, the substantial comforts of an American breakfast were smoking on the board. Pownal partook of it with the liberal appet.i.te of high health and youth sharpened by his little voyage, while Holden himself, though in far greater moderation, was not unmindful of the viands before him. His achievements, however, did not seem to satisfy the housekeeper, who vainly pressed her delicacies upon him, and who, subsequently, after a more thorough observation of his character at meals, expressed her wonder, to Pownal, whether the effect of a long beard was not to diminish the appet.i.te!

CHAPTER x.x.x.

I met with scoffs, I met with scorns From youth, and babe, and h.o.a.ry hairs, They called me in the public squares, The fool that wears a crown of thorns.

TENNYSON'S "IN MEMORIAM."

It was without delay that Holden applied himself to the purpose of his visit to New York, in which he was seconded, to the best of his ability, by Pownal. All the time the young man could spare from his own business he devoted to his friend, though fearful that there was little probability of succeeding in the search. But who, however, convinced of the futility of the inquiries, could refuse his a.s.sistance to one engaged in an investigation of so deep and sacred an interest, and who believed with an implicit faith in ultimate success?

And such is the nature of enthusiasm, or a high-wrought faith, that Pownal himself could not refrain from entering with some degree of spirit into an inquiry, which he felt would probably be in vain.

Together they sought out, in the first place, the street indicated by Esther. Formerly an obscure part of the city, it had now become, by those mutations which are constantly occurring, and nowhere with such rapidity as in this country, a considerable rendezvous of trade. By rare good luck, the name of the street had been preserved, and by luck still rarer, the house itself, corresponding in all respects to the description by Esther. It was one of those ancient Dutch houses, of which mention has been made, built of a yellowish brick, and standing with its gable-end toward the street, its steep-pointed roof, const.i.tuting at least one-half of the building, rising with an air of command, dominating the whole, and seeming, indeed, to be that portion to which all the other parts were only subsidiary, and constructed for its honor and glory. Neither Holden nor Pownal had, for an instant, doubted the honesty and truth of Esther, and yet it must be confessed, that the discovery of a building, so exactly corresponding with her description, added fresh fuel to the hopes of the former, and was not without influence on the latter. And yet, at a moment when, as it seemed to himself, he was about to realize his dear hopes--for the imagination of the Solitary leaped over all intervening difficulties, and, in the confusion of his mind, it almost appeared as if when the door opened, he should see and recognize his son--Holden laid his hand on Pownal's arm, and arrested his steps.

"Stay," he said, "let me pause a moment, and recover my wandering thoughts. There is a sound as of a tempest in my brain, and a confused noise, as of a trampling of men and horses."

He sat down on the stone step, as if unable to support himself, and rested his head on his hand.

"Here," he said, speaking to himself, with a trembling voice, "the merciful savage whose heart the Lord touched, left my child. Here his little feet trod, and against this wall his head rested. Would that these inanimate things could know my grat.i.tude! But thou knowest it, O, all Merciful, my goodness, and my fortress, my high tower, and my deliverer, my shield, and he in whom I trust. Lord, what is man that thou takest knowledge of him! or the son of man, that thou makest account of him! Didst thou not, in the olden time, hear the voice of the perishing child, Ishmael, and say, by thine angel, unto his weeping mother, Fear not, for G.o.d hath heard the voice of the lad where he is. Arise, lift up the lad, and hold him in thine hand, for I will make him a great nation? Even so now hast thou done unto me and remembered me in my low estate, for thy mercy endureth for ever."

Thus the father poured out his heart, alike unconscious of the gathering crowd, which his unusual appearance and strange language had collected around him, and of the observations they made.

"I say, Haxall," said a stout boy, whose dirty and ragged clothing, and vicious expression of face, proclaimed him one of those predestined candidates for the State Prison and gallows, bred to their fate by the criminal neglect of the State, "I say," he said, addressing his companion, as wicked looking as himself, "isn't it a rum old covey."

"Why the old cuss is a crying," answered Haxall, "or, perhaps, it's the whisky leaking out he took for his morning bitters."

"Whisky be d----d," said the other. "He never got as far as that. It's nothing but sour cider. I can smell it."

Here there was a brutal laugh, in which some of the bystanders, equally degraded, joined.

"For shame, young men," said a respectable-looking person, whose broad-brimmed hat, and formal and amply cut clothing, proclaimed him a Quaker; "is an old man, in tears, a proper subject for ribaldry?

It were better ye were engaged in some honest employment, than idling away your time, and disgracing yourselves by the use of profane language."

"Smoke the old quiz, Haxall," cried the boy who had first spoken. "He opens rich. Let's see what's in the prig."

"Smoke him, smoke him," cried several voices.

Thus exhorted, Haxall jerking his cap jauntily on one side of his head, throwing an additional quant.i.ty of impudence into his face, and placing his hands on the hips, so that the elbows stuck out on each side, approached the Quaker.

"So you set yourself up for a preacher of righteousness," he said; "do ye? Well, you may preach away without asking my leave, or I'll give it to ye gratis, for nothing. That's cheap enough, I guess. Most of your sort, though, don't like to preach for nothing. So here's my contribution to set you a going." So saying, he held out a cent.

"There's value received," he added, "and, mind ye, ye give us a preachment equal to the consideration. But first, beloved brother, I've a question to ask. Up to the tip top of your judgment, now do you think your regimentals is just the right thing, and no mistake?

Did Saint Paul and Saint, Saint, d----n the fellows, I forget their names"----

"Saint Tammany," suggested his companion.

"I owe you a drink for that, Bill," said Haxall. "Yes, Saint Tammany.

Now, do you think them gentlemen, who I've heard, was real respectable men, though it was rather a comedown to take to preaching, ever sported such an infernal broadbrim as that, or turned out a tail as broad as yours?"

The Quaker gentleman, who, at the commencement of the young scamp's speech, as if frightened at the prospect of a colloquy he had provoked, had betrayed a desire to escape from the crowd, seemed, as the other proceeded, to have changed his mind, and listened to him with the utmost calmness and imperturbable good humor. When the boy had got through with his impertinences, which he ran over with great volubility, garnishing them with many epithets we have omitted, and, at the close, had received the applause of those like him, who stood around, and, now, seemed waiting for a reply, the Quaker, with great sweetness, answered--

"My young friend, it would ill become me to return a harsh word for thy rather rude address, nor will my feelings towards thee and all in thy unhappy condition, permit me to speak to thee, except in pity and in sorrow."