The father of Nelly awoke with the morning light, and called for his lovely daughter to rise and behold the beauties of the morning. No voice gave back the welcome response. He called again. The voice that used to cheer him with her morning song was far away with her lover. Her bedchamber was as silent as the house of death. He rushed wildly about his outbuildings, calling for his Nelly. No answer came, as usual, floating on the morning breeze, to greet his listening ear. He returned to the house. His wife had searched in vain for her daughter; but found her most valuable wearing apparel was missing, which told a sad tale, whilst no traces could be found of her place of retreat. Next the stable was examined, and Nelly's horse was found as he had left him the night previous. He rode to every place where he thought she would be likely to go, but no trace could be found. He inquired for Mayall, and was told that he was seen the evening before equipped for a hunting excursion. He returned home in grief and loneliness. His house no longer echoed to the musical voice of his lovely daughter. His wife, who had been the most anxious for her daughter to marry a farm instead of a man of worth, now began to murmur and find fault with her husband for his unkindness to Mayall, who had saved their lives and the life of their daughter, and protected their property. She could then see how nobly he had acted, and shielded them from the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the Indians; and now their only daughter had flown to his arms for protection, and to reward him for his noble deeds of humanity—flown from a man she was determined never to marry.
"Has she not frequently told you she had rather have a brave and noble youth without money, than to have a coward she hated with his land and money—that, should his money be lost by misfortune, she would only have the wreck of a man left? And now she is gone, perhaps we shall never see her face again; and, what is worse than all, we have been the cause of our own misfortunes by our own folly and blindness. Had we heeded her warnings we might have enjoyed a pleasant life, with our daughter to cheer us in our declining years; and the brave young man to defend us."
From cloudy turrets evening crept
To watch the day's retreating light,
Then o'er the heavenly pavement swept
The trailing garments of the night,
By God's own hand was quick unfurled;
Then came the mighty roll-call of the skies,
And Nelly, at her father's gate,
Quickly answered, "Here am I!"
On the appointed day the man possessed of land and money came to receive his lovely bride—but, oh, what grief! the bird had flown to the wilderness—there to dwell in some green valley, there to build her nest and rear her young, far from the haunts of men, and cook the hunter's savory fare, and wear the beaver's richest furs, when sullen winter there may frown.
The day was turned into a day of sadness and mourning, and at evening the guests returned home gloomy and disappointed. A month of grief and loneliness passed away, and Nelly's father learned, from one of the early settlers of Cherry Valley, that, on the day following the evening that Nelly left her father's home, she was married at Cherry Valley, by a clergyman of that place, to a young man by the name of Mayall, and had not been seen or heard from since. A search was made to discover Mayall's place of residence; but it all proved useless, as no trace of his place of retreat could be found. The father and mother of Nelly G. lived and died without seeing again the face of their lovely daughter. Soon after Nelly G. changed her name to Nelly Mayall her father and mother met with many reverses of fortune, their property vanished away like dew before the morning sun. The Revolutionary war broke out, a party of Tories and Indians visited the Valley of the Mohawk for plunder, their buildings were burned, their property taken, and they fell a sacrifice to the tomahawk and scalping-knife. After the war had ended, and one adventurer after another came to the Valley of the Adaca to select homes, Nelly Mayall learned of the sad fate of her parents. She dressed her hat with the dark plumes of the birds of the forest, and for a time mourned their sad fate. Time passed on—the changing beauties of the forest scenery, the kind attention of her devoted husband and the prattling of her children, once more revived her drooping spirits, and she was again Nelly Mayall, with all her youthful charms.
CHAPTER II.
"Fresh from the fountains of the wood
A rivulet to the valley came,
And glided on for many a rood,
Flushed with the morning's ruddy flame;
The air was fresh and soft and sweet,
The slopes in spring's new verdure lay,
And, wet with dewdrops, at my feet
Bloomed the young violets of May.
No sound of busy life was heard
Amid those forests lone and still,
Save the faint chirp of early bird,
Or bleat of deer along the hill.
I traced the rivulet's winding way,
New scenes of beauty opened round.
Where woody shades of brightest green
And lovely blossoms tinged the ground.
'Ah, happy valley stream,' I said,
'Calm glides thy waters 'mid the flowers,
Whose fragrance round my path is shed
Through all the joyous summer hours.'"
After the storm of the Revolution had passed away, and the Angel of Peace once more brooded over the forest, there was a daring hunter with his family found living in the Valley of the Adaca, now called Otego Creek, by the name of Mayall, who had become perfectly familiar with every hill, mountain, valley and glen for many miles around his humble cottage. He led a wild and romantic life, living and lodging wherever night overtook him, when the distance was so great that he could not reach his home, where the smoke of his cottage fire curled in blue wreaths over the forest trees, whilst its walls furnished a safe abode for his wife and children from the wild beasts of the forest. His cabin was strongly built of logs, with small windows, which looked more like port-holes to a fort than windows. A deep hole was dug beneath his cottage floor, from which there was a secret passage leading under the foundation outside, that one might make his escape, if necessary. A bed of straw was thrown down into this hole, and here his children slept, descending by means of a trap-door, which was closed in time of danger, and made a safe retreat against the wild beasts of the forest in his absence. There was abundance of game scattered over the forest, and the multitude of furred animals that inhabited the valleys and congregated along the streams, living on the swarms of fish that then abounded in every mountain rill, made it an easy matter to support his table with fresh and dried venison, choice fowls and speckled trout, whilst the furred animals, that were abundant, would furnish him with clothing to protect him from the frosts of winter.
About the year 1774 this wild forester was found cultivating a small spot of ground near a little crystal rill that flowed from a deep gorge in the hill. Eastward of his cabin was a high bluff of rocks, crowned with lofty pines, that overlooked the valley, which stretched away towards the Susquehanna. From this rocky promontory the forest appeared unbroken, excepting the small spot cleared by his own hands, and seemed to lie beneath this rocky throne in tranquil loveliness. Here at his cottage, when at home, his wife cooked his frugal but delicious repast. The Oneida tribe of Indians made their main path to the Susquehanna Valley through the Valley of the Otego Creek, for the purpose of procuring their yearly supply of lead, which they used to carry away in abundance. The first settlers of this valley used to say that they would leave Laurens Village, and, after an absence of two or three hours, return loaded with their yearly supply; yet, with all the search that has been made by the white race, this mine remains a secret, known only to the red man to this day, and probably will remain so until the end of time, unless found by accident. This state of affairs moved on quietly until the breaking out of the Revolution. Great Britain, with her warlike bands, invaded the eastern and southern coast, whilst the Indian tribes westward, aided by the Canadians and Tories, swarmed through all the western forests.