“But it strikes me, my dear sir, that you ask rather an extravagant price for your uncultivated land?” I asked this question with a view of obtaining some information in reference to the valley of the Aroostook, and was not disappointed. The reply of my friend was as follows:
“I can convince you that you are mistaken. In the first place, the water privilege which my land covers, is acknowledged to be the most valuable on the Aroostook, and I may add that it is abundantly fertile. And then think of the valley, at the very threshold of which I am located. It is one of the most beautiful and luxuriant in this northern wilderness; and the only thing against it, though I say it, that should not, is the fact that nearly five miles of its outlet belongs to the English Government, while the remainder belongs to the United States. The whole of it ought to be yours, but if it were, I would not live here a year; I am near enough to you now; directly on the boundary-line between your country and mine. The Aroostook, I verily believe, is one of the most important branches of the St. John. Its general course is easterly, but it is exceedingly serpentine, and according to some of your best surveyors, drains upwards of a million acres of the best soil in Maine. Above my place, there is hardly a spot that might not be navigated by a small steam-boat; and I believe the time is not far distant when your enterprising Yankees will have a score of boats employed here in carrying their grain to market. Before that time comes, however, you must dig a canal or build a railroad around my beautiful waterfall, which I am sure could be done for 20,000 dollars. An extensive lumbering business is now carried on in the valley, but its future prosperity must depend upon its agriculture. Already are its shores dotted with well-cultivated farms, and every year is adding to their number, and the rural beauty of those already in existence. The soil of this valley is rich, and composed principally of what is called alluvial (not intervale) land, together with the quality known as upland. In many portions, however, you will find some of the most charming intervales in the world. The trees of this region are similar to those of your northern states. The staple crop of the Aroostook farmer is wheat; owing to the shortness of our seasons, corn does not arrive at perfection, and its cultivation is neglected. Rye, barley, and oats, all flourish here, but much more buckwheat is raised than any other grain besides wheat. Grasses flourish here in great perfection, and the farmer of Aroostook will yet send to market immense quantities of cattle. As to the climate, it is not so severe as is generally supposed. Snow falls early, and continues late, which prevents the ground from freezing very deep. And when summer comes, as you may testify, the weather is sufficiently warm for every necessary purpose. Now, Sir, do you not think I have made out a clear case?” I answered in the affirmative, and thanked him for the information he had given me. Like Oliver Twist, however, I was anxious for “more,” and therefore endeavoured to start him on another subject. In this laudable effort I fully succeeded; and by merely expressing the opinion that he must lead a very lonely life in this remote wilderness.
“Not at all, not at all,” replied my friend. “It is my good fortune to belong to that class of men who depend upon books, the works of nature, and themselves for happiness, and not upon a selfish and heartless world. As to my books, they are not very abundant, nor are they bound in fancy morocco, but the substance of them is of the right sort. Foremost among them is the Bible, which tells even a poor devil like me that he is a man. Perfect in their generation are the truths of this glorious old book; they have an important bearing upon everything; and they should be studied and cherished with jealous care. But the earth-born minds, with whom I hold daily communion, are the mighty Shakspeare, the splendid Gibbon, the good and loving brother poets Thompson and Wordsworth, the gifted but wayward Burns, the elegant and witty Addison, and the ponderous Johnson. These are the minds which always afford me solid satisfaction. As to the immense herd who keep the printing-presses of the present day constantly employed, I know nothing about them, and care still less. And now as to the pleasures which are brought to me by the revolving seasons. They are indeed manifold, and it is pleasant to remember that ‘Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.’ The hills which surround my cabin, I look upon as familiar friends, not only when crowned with a wreath of snow, but when rejoicing in their summer bloom; and a more peaceful and heart-soothing stream can nowhere be found, than the one which flows along by my door, and you know from experience that it abounds in the finest of salmon and trout. The surrounding woods furnish me with game, but their greatest treasures are the ten thousand beautiful birds, which make melody in their little hearts, and afford me unalloyed pleasure for at least one half the year. I seldom have occasion to kill these feathered minstrels for food, and the consequence is, whenever I go out into my fields to work, they gather around me without fear, and often come so near, as to be in my very way. The quail and the wren, the jay and the blue-bird, the mocking-bird, the partridge, the fish-hawk, the eagle and the crow, and also the swallow, the owl, and whip-poor-will, all build their nests within a stone’s throw of my door, and they know that the friendless old man will do them no harm. And then what exquisite pleasure do I continually enjoy in watching the ever-varying changes of the year! First, when the primrose tells me that the rains are over and gone, and I go forth in the refreshing sunshine to sow my seeds; secondly, when the glorious summer is in its prime, with its dewy mornings and lovely twilights; also in the sober autumnal time, when I thoughtfully count the leaves floating on the bosom of the stream; and then again when the cold winds of winter are howling around my cabin, and I sit in my pleasant solitude before a roaring fire, building palaces in my mind, as I peer into the burning embers. Yes, sir, I have learned to live without excitement, and to depend upon myself for the companionship I need. I do, indeed, occasionally steal out of my beautiful vale, and mingle with my fellow-men; but I always return perfectly contented with my lot. After all, I do not believe that the world could add greatly to my stock of happiness, even if I were a worshipper of Mammon, a brawling politician, or a responsible statesman.”
“But, Mr. Egger, it strikes me that your manner of life is not in keeping with the Bible, for which you have expressed so much reverence.”
“That may be true,” was the reply, “but I make no sanctimonious pretensions. I do but little to promote the happiness of my fellow-men, and I congratulate myself with the idea that I do as little to make them miserable. The influence of my example amounts to nothing, and I give no bread to the poor, because I have none to give. But let us drop the subject; I feel that your questions may so annoy me, that I shall be compelled to abandon the glorious old wilderness, and become a denizen of the busy and noisy world.”
A breach having thus been made in our discourse, I examined my watch and found it to be near twelve o’clock. My companion took the hint, and immediately proceeded to fix a sleeping-place that would accommodate us both. This was done by spreading the clothes of the wooden bedstead upon the floor. While going through with this little operation, he held high above his head a ragged old bed-quilt, and asked me what I thought Queen Victoria would say, if she had such an article to rest her royal limbs upon? He then pointed to the particular spot which he wanted me to occupy, giving as a reason for the request, that there was a hole on the opposite side of his mansion, where toads, rats, and weasels were frequently in the habit of entering, and he was afraid they might annoy me, though he had never been disturbed by their nocturnal visits. This information appeared to me somewhat peculiar, but did not prevent me from undressing myself to lie down. When about half through this business, however, I was actually compelled to take a seat on account of a laughing-fit, brought upon me by one or two stories, which my host related for my special benefit. What a strange man indeed! thought I; and making another effort, I tumbled into bed. In the meantime, my companion had stripped himself of everything but his shirt, and, in spite of the frailty of his “spindle shanks,” was throwing himself into the attitudes for which Kemble was distinguished, whose acting he had often witnessed in olden times. I was already quite exhausted with excess of laughter, and I verily believed that the queer antics of the anchorite and philosopher would be the death of me. But I felt that I must go to sleep, and, in self-defence, partly covered my head with the end of a quilt, and almost swore that I would not be disturbed again.
I did not swear, however, and was consequently again disturbed. I had just fixed my head upon the pillow, as I thought for the last time, when I was startled by a tremendous yell proceeding from without the cabin. I rushed out of the house, as if the Old Harry himself had been after me, and beheld my spare and venerable friend, sitting upon a stump, gazing upon the rising moon, and listening to the distant howl of a wolf, with one of his feet dangling to and fro, like the pendulum of a clock. “Wasn’t that a musical yell, my boy?” were the first words spoken by the hermit mad-cap; and then he went on to point out all the finer features of the scene spread out before us. Silently flowed the stream, grand and sublime looked the mountains, clear and very blue the sky, spirit-like the moon and stars, and above the neighbouring waterfall ascended a column of spray, which was fast melting into a snowy cloud. After enjoying this picture for a reasonable time, my companion then proposed that we should enjoy a swim in the river, to which arrangement I assented, even as did the wedding guest of Coleridge to the command of the Ancient Mariner. Our bath ended, we returned to the cabin, and in the course of half-an-hour, the hermit and the stranger were side by side in the arms of sleep.
On opening my eyes in the morning, the pleasant sunshine was flooding the floors through the open door, and my friend, who had risen without disturbing me, was frying some trout which he had just taken in the stream. I arose, rolled up the bed, and prepared myself for breakfast, which was particularly relished by the giver and the receiver. I spent the forenoon rambling about the estate of my old friend, and enjoying the surrounding scenery; I then proposed to him that he should go down and be my guest at the tavern on the St. John for a day or two, which invitation was accepted. On my return, I took a sketch of the secluded vale where stands the cottage of my friend, also a profile of his own handsome face, and a view of his waterfall. The time of my departure having arrived, I left him with a heavy heart—I for my distant city-home, and he to return to his solitary cottage among the mountains.
CHAPTER XXII.
The River St. John.