"A good son, a very good son, you have been to us, Matthew," said he; "and we have little fear that you will forsake the principles you take with you, or give us trouble for any unhandsome act of your life. But this world has many temptations; singular and strange events fill up our experience; and a little counsel never comes amiss. I have lived longer than you. I ought to know more of life and its dangers; and be able to tell you many things that will do you good. I have fought my way through difficulties, under which many have fell; and I have seemed to see a light of heaven rising on the darkness, and have followed it, when others like lambs have strayed into troublesome ways.
"Be faithful to the right, and good, and true, my son, and you have nothing to fear. Let no puff of praise, or flush of good fortune lift you up with vanity. Stand erect and keep your balance, if you step on ice or walk on wire. Be a man always. Keep from castle-building. Insist on the honor of your calling; and don't burrow up in the soil like a woodchuck, but range abroad like a deer, and soar on high like an eagle. Good-bye."
The last word was spoken; the farewell moment fled; young Fabens was on his first long journey; and six weary days were numbered with past hours, before the last opening in the forest revealed to his anxious eyes the home of his eager guide—the Waldron Settlement.
II.
HOME IN THE BACKWOODS.
A new home in the backwoods! Living where the dun deer roam, and wild fowl flock! Sleeping a-nights where waters murmur, wolves howl, and panthers scream in your hearing; and whip-poor-wills sing till morning comes, and Nature appears in her gladness and pride! Who would not enjoy a scene like that for a season, forgetting the tame monotony of towns, and imprisonment of cities? Who would not forsake a room amid walls of brick for a green woodland parlor? And leave velvet cushion and costly carpet, for a cushion of moss, and a carpet of flowers in the virgin wilderness? Follow me, then, to the Land of Lakes, and ramble abroad with my hero, while he explores the Waldron Settlement.
A rare and yellow August evening it was, and about fifty years ago, when Matthew Fabens arrived in the Lake Country. As he rose the first morning, and went forth to survey the region of his new home, thoughts of his distant abode awakened feelings of sadness, but other sensations very soon succeeded, and balanced his mind into satisfaction. A wilderness indeed it was that waved around him; and the manners of the settlers partook as much of its wildness, verdure, freedom, and wealth, as if they had sprung like the oaks and chestnuts, from the soil; and he found it a region opening upon him, at every step, some new delight or interest.
That particular section was called the Lake Country, from the occurrence of seven lakes, that shine out from their green borders like mirrors reflecting the face of heaven. That beautiful sisterhood of little inland seas lie along in lines nearly parallel, with ten and a dozen miles of lovely woodland waving between them; and they vary in length from ten to forty miles; and discharge their waters, through the Oswego River, into Lake Ontario. Their names are, Otisco, Skaneateles, Owasco, Cayuga, Seneca, Wawumkee, and Canandaigua, each name of them sounding the rich, wild music of the Indian tongue.
On the banks of the Cayuga Fabens found the settlement, and language cannot describe the charms of its fine scenery. Few were the clearings, and small, which as yet had been made, and tall and grand were the beeches and maples, the oaks and chestnuts, that tossed their arms on high. Fabens gave way to the excitement cast upon his sensitive nature, and allowed himself little rest for a fortnight. Each day was too brief to accomplish all he purposed. He took long rambles in the woods, sensing the sanctity of their venerable shade, enjoying the views they spread to his gaze, and tasting the fragrance of hemlock, birch, and pine, that floated to him in mingled odors. All he had heard was more than true. The trees were noble beyond description. There were narrow openings and plains, in places, where the sumac lifted its blood-red plumes, and bee-balm waved its crimson blossoms; while generally the woods were dense and magnificent.
Through opening and thicket the wild deer bounded like forms of beauty in a dream; squirrels were chattering, robins and thrushes were singing in gladness and pride; and wild fowl were sporting in water and air. he went out to the fallows, and they were covered with Indian corn, or gilded with yellow stubble; with here and there a garden studded with cool and lusty melons, almost bursting with delicious sweets. He descended the low valleys, and there, as on the hills, sprang thickly-clustering bushes of large and melting blackberries, inviting him to taste and enjoy. He followed the courses of the creeks, and found them teeming with trout and pickerel, as playful as the scampering fawns, all mottled with gold and silver, and royal as the peacock's plumes in the running changes of their lustre. He stood on the margin of the lake that lay placidly sleeping in the embrace of hills; and the willow waved on its borders, and wild ducks and herons wantoned on its breast. The waters were so transparent he could count the white pebbles and shells at the depth of thirty feet; and they were pure and sweet as the dew that lay all night on the wild honeysuckles and roses, which graced the upland plains.