How different are these men from what is generally termed help! They are hired, to be sure; but the sentiment which inspires their labor is entirely different from that feeling of drudgery, under the influence of which the tenantry of Europe, or even the Irish servants in this country, perform their work.
Isaac Murch is an independent, wealthy farmer,—a mechanic by nature,—who has acquired the property he holds with his own hands, and would scorn to be a hired servant, like an Irish navvy; but for accommodation, he will hire some one to get in his own harvest, and in the cold, frosty nights, when he might be comfortable at home in the blankets, he will go on to Elm Island, sweat and work, live rough, and sleep on the ground, to build a house for his neighbor; for neighbor meant something in those days.
As for Joe Griffin, he’s counting every dollar, and looking forward to the day when he shall have a home of his own, and plough his own acres, and is ambitious to earn his wages.
How superior are the results of such labor, to that of the man who has no ambition of ever being anything more than a servant, and only exercises his ingenuity in getting through the day, and shirking all the work he can! They knew that Ben had nothing but his hands to help himself with, and couldn’t afford to pay them for watching the shadows; besides, they had a reputation to sustain, of which they were sufficiently proud. They knew very well that everybody within a circle of ten miles would know what they were about before night, and what remarks would be made about them at the blacksmith’s shop, the grist-mill, and around the firesides.
“Well, now, if there ain’t a team—Isaac Murch, Ben Rhines, and Joe Griffin! Pine trees’ll have to take it now, if they’ve got Isaac Murch to lay out the work, and Ben and Joe to back him up. Won’t they have a good time, though, seeing which is the smartest?”
“Wal, sartainly,” exclaimed old Aunt Molly Bradish, “Joe Griffin has met his match for once; he can’t do anything with Ben Rhines; he’d pull up a pine tree by the roots, if he took a notion.”
“Joe can’t, of course, take hold of a log to lift with Ben, nor anybody else in this world,” said Seth Warren; “but I’ll bet he’ll chop into the side of a tree as quick; he strikes so true, he wouldn’t miss a clip once in a fortnight. I saw him cut a pig of lead in two, down at the mill; and though he struck ten times, he hit so true that you could see but one mark of the axe.”
“Wal,” replied Aunt Molly, “there’s this to be said of Ben Rhines, that is not to be said of everybody: I took him in my arms when he was born, and have lived a near neighbor to him from that day to this, and I never knew or heard of his using his strength to harm a fellow-critter, except they desarved it most outrageously. I’ve seen little snipper-snappers impose upon him, and all the same as spit in his face, and he never let on that he heard them. Sally’s my own niece, and I set my eyes by her; but I couldn’t wish her better luck than to marry Ben. He’s helped everybody; I should think somebody might have sprawl enough to get up a ‘bee’ and help him.”
They also knew that, when they went to meeting, Sunday, everybody would want to know how much they’d done. Added to this was the pride of emulation, which leads men of any pluck to exert themselves in the presence of each other. This is a kind of labor that can exist nowhere but in a free country, is the result of its institutions, from which proceed the motives, and a thousand subtle influences which beget it.
The island well merited Joe’s encomium. On the eastern side, adjoining the brook, was a large space, having a slight elevation, covered with green grass, extending back to the middle ridge, which, at its extremity, terminated in a perpendicular ledge, which, sloping gradually on the eastern side, and disappearing, crossed the brook, where it again came to the surface, forming a natural dam, about two feet in height, with a little fissure in the middle, worn by the passage of the water. Over this the stream fell with a pleasant murmur, mingling very sweetly with the deeper tone of the breakers. On either side of the brook were two enormous elm trees, united by a great root, flat on the surface, which bridged the brook a very little above the fall. Under this root, which was as large as a man’s body, the water had a free passage, except in the spring and autumn, when the brook was swollen by melting snows and rains. Then the old root was half buried in water. The high tides came over this natural dam; and in the brackish water were great quantities of smelts and frost fish; and eels also ran up through the fissure in the ledge. The summit of the high ledge was covered with white birches, the great forked roots, rough and black with whorls and blisters, running along the very edge of the rocks, while their limbs, stretching themselves towards the sun, fell in great masses over its edge.