The Travellers Part 9

The next morning pa.s.sports were procured to visit the fortifications.

Edward, who had a great regard to our own heroes and patriots, had previously sallied forth in quest of the spot where the gallant Montgomery fell in our cause; and his father, after awaiting his return for some time, proceeded without him, leaving a note of directions how he should follow him.

Edward obeyed the directions. He reached Cape Diamond without meeting his friends, and he was biting his lips with vexation, that he should have come to this celebrated fortification alone, without any one to explain it to him, and must leave it as ignorant as he had entered; when he was accosted by a good natured looking soldier, who, doffing his military cap and making a slight bow, said, "This is a pleasant place, young gentleman, of a sunny summer's day."

Edward turned his bright glance on the man, delighted to have found any one who could answer the questions that were rushing to his lips. "Is not that," he said, pointing to the island opposite, "the island of Orleans?"

"The very same, sir: and the point there, is point Levi, which Wolfe fortified, and destroyed from it all the lower town of Quebec: but brave as he was, I think he never would have come within the rampart, if Montcalme had not been the fool to go out and meet him on the Plains of Abraham--once there, you know, we beat of course; for, other things being equal, one Englishman is as good as two Frenchmen any day--and that's what every English soldier knows."

"But," replied Edward, with a smile, "what every French soldier does not admit I suspect."

"No--no--not exactly--for you know they are a bragging nation."

"Well," said Edward, "they seem to have something to brag of about you here in these beautiful villages:" and he pointed towards Beauport and Charlebourg, whose white houses, green fields, and churches, seem to promise every thing that poets have dreamed of village simplicity, peace, and contentment.

"Yes, sir," said the soldier, "those have a decent genteel appearance from here, but if you were once to go to them, and see the houses like painted pigeon-holes--white without, but within full of all manner of uncleanliness; the bits of gardens with little but onions in them; whole fields overrun with Canada thistles; and then the little bits of dowdy images that they worship; and slivers of wood set in frames, that they call pieces of the true cross, and there are enough of them, as I have heard said, to build a seventy-four. If you were to see all this, my young master, you would agree with me, they were but a set of poor ignorant superst.i.tious deluded creatures, far enough behind us English, or even the Americans." The soldier then proceeded to point out and name the most attractive objects from this commanding point of view. The deep black ravine, through which the Montmorenci, after taking its graceful and wondrous leap, pa.s.ses into the St. Lawrence; and the indentation of the sh.o.r.e beyond the Plains of Abraham, called Wolfe's Cove, where he landed his forces on the morning of his victory and death. Edward found it very difficult to tear himself from a spot which has so much natural beauty, and historic interest, but anxious to follow his friends, he offered the soldier a few pieces of change, and asked him if he was willing to show him the fortification, and then guide him to the Plains of Abraham, whither his father had gone.

The soldier civilly, and indeed thankfully a.s.sented, and they proceeded together. The man, evidently pleased with the intelligent questions put to him by Edward, which he answered in a way that indicated a knowledge of his profession quite unusual in a common soldier. Edward inquired the design of the Martello towers, of the bastions, scarps and counterscarps, of this fosse, that glacis, &c. &c. at last, stopping suddenly, while his dilating form and beaming face expressed the youthful heroism that glowed in his breast, he said, "It is a strong place, a very strong place indeed; but I do think _we_ could take it."

"_We!_" exclaimed the soldier, darting at him a look of eager inquiry; "who are _we_?"

"Why, we Americans."

"Americans!" echoed the soldier, and then starting back and dashing the silver Edward had given him to the ground. "Have I," he said, "served my king four and twenty years, to be bribed by an American boy at last? has it come to this, Richard Barton?"

"Richard Barton!" echoed Edward in his turn.

"Yes, my young man, Richard Barton; a poor name, but an honest one, thank G.o.d."

"Richard Barton!" again repeated Edward. "But it cannot be the Richard Barton I mean."

"I don't know who you mean, sir, but I shall take care and report you to my officer, and clear myself of all blame."

"Do not be so hasty, my good friend," said Edward, with an expression of innocence and good nature, that went far to remove the honest soldier's suspicions; "it is true I have troubled you with a great many questions, but I had no motive but curiosity; we yankees, you know, are a curious race. Come, I shall hold you to your agreement; take up the money and go along with me."

"No--no--I never will touch the money; but I will go with you, there can be no harm in that."

"Well," said Edward, picking up the pieces, "if you won't take it, I know a Richard Barton that will, and he shall have it too; and now, if I was not afraid you would take me to the guard-house, I would put some more questions to you."

"Oh, put them and welcome, young man; now I know that you are an American, I can use my discretion in my answers. You do not look as if you could do wrong yourself, or tempt another: but I have lived long enough to know that it is not all gold that glitters, though I think nothing but true metal can bear the stamp that is on your face."

"We are friends again then, are we? Can you tell me where the 40th regiment is stationed now?"

"That I cannot; they have been gone from here three years this July."

"Had you any acquaintance in that regiment?"

"Indeed had I. I served with them more than twenty years."

Edward stopped, jumped at least three feet from the ground, (as the soldier afterwards averred) clapped his hands, and exclaimed, "It must be--it must be."

"Why, what is the matter now?" asked the soldier, amazed at his emotion.

"Tell me," continued Edward, with all the calmness he could summon, "why you are here, if your regiment has returned?"

"I got myself transferred to this regiment, to finish my term of service in America, in the hope of then finding my wife and little boy, who followed me to the States when I was a prisoner."

There was no longer any room in Edward's mind for doubt that his companion was the husband of Mrs. Barton. His natural and first impulse was, to make known to the husband the happiness that was in store for him. He began to speak, half laughing, half crying; then checked himself, and considered what a beautiful surprise it would be if they should meet without any preparation: he took the soldier's hand, and said, "I see my friends; you need go no farther; but come in one hour to the City Hotel, and my mother will tell you good news of your wife."

"News of my wife! are you an angel from heaven?"

"Oh, no," replied Edward, laughing; "nothing but an _American boy_."

"G.o.d bless you, my lad, tell me now--tell me now," said the soldier, and tears of joy had already gathered in his eyes.

"No, not another word now," said Edward, bounding away from him; "in one hour you shall know all."

The soldier gazed after Edward with an intense curiosity: vague expectations of some good, and then more defined hopes filled his mind.

'That boy never could have deceived me,' he said, to himself: 'what did he mean by exclaiming when he first heard my name? what, by saying he knew another Richard Barton? Is it possible that he has seen my wife and boy?' The result of all his deliberations was, that he would go instantly to the Hotel--to wait an hour was impossible--an hour was an age. In the mean time, Edward joined his party, who were already on the return, and was chid for his delay; without giving the least heed to the rebuke, he drew Julia aside, and communicated his discovery to her. They then laid their heads together, and concerted a fine plan for a denouement.

They would first show Barton the little girl; he could not remember her of course, for she had been born some months after he was separated from his wife; but then he might find her out from her resemblance to her mother; Julia remembered many stories she had read of similar discoveries, and Edward affirmed his belief in natural affection, though he allowed that his father said, that Dr. Franklin and many other philosophers laughed at the idea. If the little girl proved an insufficient clew, d.i.c.key was to be brought into the room, as if accidentally, and with many cautions by no means to tell his name; and finally the door was to be thrown open, and good Mrs. Barton, all unprepared for the sight, was to behold her long-lost husband.

Mrs. Sackville saw in the truth-telling faces of her children, that something in their view very important was in agitation; but she seemed to take no notice of their whisperings, and hurried pace, till Mr. Morris called out, "Fall back children, one would think we were walking for a wager; remember we carry weight of years."

"Oh," whispered Julia, "uncle Morris is such a snail; but there is no use in our hurrying, because you know we should lose half the pleasure if papa and mama and uncle were not there." Edward a.s.sented, and patience had her perfect work while the children made their feet, which seemed suddenly to have been furnished with the wings of Mercury, to keep time with the dignified movements of their parents.

When they turned into St. John's-street, and came in sight of the hotel, Edward saw the soldier standing by the step to the front entrance, and looking eagerly towards him, "there he is!" said he to Julia, and they both involuntarily changed their pace from a walk to a run, but before they reached the hotel, the soldier sprung into the door, and disappeared from their sight. He had caught the sound of his wife's voice, and their first joyful recognition had pa.s.sed before the children entered the door.

Our youthful readers have, we trust, been entire strangers to those joys that are preceded by suffering, and which remind us of some clouds that send down their showers after the sun has broken through. They would have been as much surprised as were Edward and Julia, if they had seen, instead of smiles and ecstasies, the deathlike paleness of Mrs. Barton, her husband dashing the tear from his eyes that he might gaze upon his children; d.i.c.key looking timidly at him, and the little girl burying her face in her mother's gown. Yet this was joy--joy that no words could express; the joy of kind and faithful hearts--joy with which a stranger cannot intermeddle; and Mrs. Sackville felt it to be such, for when she saw the family group, she drew her children into the parlour, and left their humble friends to themselves.

It was our intention to have described the soldier's grat.i.tude--the contentment and thankfulness of his wife--the neat little cottage in which she was immediately placed by the officers of the regiment, who seemed delighted thus to manifest their regard for their corporal Barton. The emotion of this good family at parting with their benefactors--little d.i.c.key's resolution, that when he grew to be a man, he would go and live with Mr. Edward--the hospitable honors rendered to the Sackville party by the officers of the regiment, who felt their beneficence to the British soldier's wife as a personal obligation--to which was to have been added, a particular description of some very beautiful curiosities presented to Edward and Julia by the governor's lady; but we fear our young readers will think we have already protracted a dull tale to an unconscionable length; and we will therefore take our leave of them, with simply expressing a wish, that if they should ever travel to Quebec, or indeed in any other direction, they will remember that after the delightful but evanescent pleasures of their jaunt had faded, and were almost effaced from the minds of Edward and Julia, they possessed a treasure that fadeth not away in the consciousness of having rendered an essential service to a fellow-creature. A consciousness that strews roses in the path of youth and age--not 'the perfume and suppliance of a moment,' but those amaranthine flowers that exhale incense to Heaven.

FINIS.