Reuben brought his sister Dora over to see Ashatea, and the three girls seemed very happy together. The Indian girl was as eager to learn English as Lily and Dora were to instruct her; and she got on rapidly.
Old Samson had suffered more from his long tramp on foot than he was at first willing to confess, and a fit of illness was the consequence. He was well cared for, however, by the Claxtons, who treated him as kindly as if he had been a relation. He was grateful in his way; but it struck me that there was something hard and unsympathising in his character. He spoke of his fights with the Indians, of the scalps he had taken, of his hairbreadth escapes; but he never uttered a word which showed that he had any religious feeling. Indeed, he seemed to me to be as much of a heathen as the Indians among whom he had lived so long. It appeared strange to me that an old man should be so hardened. I was not aware, at the time, that when people once begin to give up trusting God they go further and further from him; and thus, of course, as they advance in years they think less and less of their souls, and, in fact, become more dead with regard to all spiritual matters.
I had been accustomed to see Uncle Stephen read the Bible to his family, and offer up prayers morning and night; while he never did any work, except such as necessity demanded, on the Sabbath. Uncle Mark had been less exact in these respects, although even he was accustomed to read the Bible on the Sabbath, and to refrain from work; and occasionally we went over to Uncle Stephen’s on that day and joined his family at worship. Most of the people of the settlement, however, paid but little attention to the day, though they ceased from all rough work, and made a sort of holiday of it. There was no church or chapel of any description in the neighbourhood, and few paid any attention to what are called religious duties.
The day after I went to stay with Uncle Stephen, some little time before sunset I saw a horseman approaching the house from the eastward. He was a middle-aged man, dressed in a suit of dark grey, with his legs encased in strong leather gaiters, and a broad-brimmed hat on his head; a pair of huge saddle-bags, too, were thrown across the hardy-looking mustang he bestrode. He had neither gun over his shoulder nor sword by his side; but he carried a thick staff of considerable length in his hand.
“Canst tell me, young friend, if yonder house is the abode of Stephen Tregellis?” he asked as I advanced towards him.
“Yes, sir. He is my uncle,” I answered, offering to hold his nag’s head while he dismounted.
He threw himself from the saddle with the activity of a young man.
“I hope, then, that I shall not intrude, for I have come far, and should like to spend a few days with one who, if I am not wrongly informed, will receive me as a brother Christian,” he said.
“Uncle Stephen will be glad to see you, sir,” I answered, feeling sure that I was only saying what was the case.
“Well, then, young man, go in and tell him that Martin Godfrey has come to claim his hospitality.”