Had the course of our narrative not led us thither, we could have selected no better sample than L., of the truth of what we have asserted regarding the existence of neat and attractive villages in New England at that early day. It was situated on the high-road, in a small valley, through which wound down certain rocky falls, a clear rivulet, that afforded excellent opportunities of fishing to such of the inhabitants as were fond of the occupation of the angle. These, however, were few, for then, as now, the people of Connecticut possessed much of the same busy spirit which is one of their distinguishing characteristics. The glassy brook alluded to, served yet another purpose during the season when the sportive inhabitants of the watery element had disappeared. In the winter-time, when thickly frozen over, it formed, out of their school-houses, the grand resort of the children of the village for the purpose of skating and sliding. There, at those times, on a clear, bracing day, such as no country but New England ever shows in perfection, might always be seen a crowd of these happy beings, of both sexes, and of various ages, all collected together, some to partake and others merely to observe the amusements mentioned.
Upon a certain day, the neighborhood of the brook was thronged even to a greater extent than usual, owing to the exceeding brightness of the weather, which had led some of the tenderest mothers to withhold their customary mandate enjoining immediate return from school, lest the beloved object of the command might suffer from playing in the cold. Among those who had thus had their ordinary restrictions remitted, was a little girl whose extreme loveliness must have arrested the attention of any observer. Her features were not merely beautiful, but there was a charm in her countenance more attractive still—that purity and mildness which our fancy attributes to angels. There was a bewitching grace, moreover, in her attitudes that might have furnished delighted employment to the painter and sculptor, had there been any time or inclination among the colonists to bestow upon the cultivation of the arts.
This child was seemingly about five years old. She was standing, with a number of other little ones of her own age, looking on with great apparent delight—now at the larger boys, who were skating dexterously, and describing many a circle and angle, unknown in mathematics, upon the smooth surface of the brook, and then at a number of girls merrily chasing each other upon a slide at one side.
As one of the large boys spoken of passed her, he said, “Come, Jessy, I will give you a ride upon the ice;” and taking her in his arms, he was soon again gliding rapidly along.
“Take care!” shouted a noble-looking youth, whose glowing complexion and sparkling eye shone with the excitement of the exercise. “Take care, the ice is slightly cracked there, and it will scarcely bear the double weight.”
It was too late. Ere the words were well spoken, the ice gave way, and the boy who bore the fair burden sunk beneath the congealed element.
One loud shriek from the mingled voice of the young spectators announced the frightful accident.
With the speed of lightning, the youth who had uttered the words of warning darted forward, and plunging under the ice, disappeared from view.
Great consternation prevailed for some moments. Many of the children gave way to loud cries; others quietly wept; while a few of the older and more considerate ran toward their homes, in order to summon assistance.
In less time than it has taken to represent the state of feeling which prevailed during his absence, Frank Stanley rose to the surface, bearing in his arms the unconscious form of the young creature he had saved. Recovering his position on the ice, he speedily regained the shore, and overcome with the exertion, laid her gently on the ground.