Chapter Two.
Life at Uphill—Our tutor—Mr Mark Tidey’s first lesson in Horsemanship—Studies from the book of Nature—Our trips westward—A Strange Combat—A Hasty Shot—Something worth knowing about Snakes—Camping out—The Bear’s visit and its result—Wolves—Drawing lots—A Sleepless Night—Timely Assistance—Dying from Hunger—Consequences of sheltering a Runaway Slave—Our Tutor turns Nurse—Chances of Discovery—We part Company—A mid-day Halt—An Unpleasant Meeting—The Bully receives a Lesson—Our March Homewards—The Way Dan kept Watch—We reach the Farm.
We had been living at Uphill for some years, the wilderness had been changed into a smiling garden, though I will not say a perfect paradise, for I am very sure that no such spot exists on earth. Our education had not been neglected, for my father had engaged a tutor for Dan and me, when we grew too old for the instruction our mother could give us. Our father was too much engaged to attend regularly to our studies, though very well able himself to teach us. Mr Mark Tidey, our tutor, was a character; he was fond of field-sports, but fonder still of books, and had an aptitude for teaching which many professed tutors do not possess. For the sake of indulging in both his fancies, he undertook to instruct us at a very moderate stipend. My father had found him during one of his journeys eastward at a wayside store—which he had visited for the purpose of obtaining a supply of powder and shot—without a cent in his pocket to pay for it. He had been endeavouring to persuade the storekeeper that he would return in the course of a week with a number of skins amply sufficient to pay his debts; but the wary trader, looking at his ungainly figure and discovering that he was a “Britisher,” was unwilling to trust him. Finding that all his arguments were useless, taking a book from his pocket, he had sat down in a corner of the store, philosophically to console himself by its perusal. My father entering found him thus engaged, and glancing his eye on the book, his surprise was considerable to find that it was a copy of one of the Greek classics. My father addressed the stranger, and soon discovered that he was a well-informed man. After some further conversation, he was pretty well satisfied that he was also an honest one. Mr Tidey, finding a person who could sympathise with him, poured forth the history of his adventures and misfortunes. He had come over to America with the intention of establishing a school, but his slender means had been almost exhausted before he could obtain any pupils, his attainments indeed being at that time such as were not generally required in the States. Believing that he could replenish his exhausted exchequer more satisfactorily by means of his gun than in any other way, he had come westward; but the game of which he was in search he found had been driven further into the wilderness than he had expected, and an illness of some weeks’ duration had entirely emptied his purse. He had notwithstanding, trudged boldly forward, though the game he killed had been barely sufficient to supply himself with the necessaries of life. From several letters and other documents which he exhibited, my father, being convinced that Mr Tidey had given a true account of himself, invited him to Uphill farm. The poor man jumped at the offer.
“With all the pleasure in the world, my dear sir,” he answered, the tears starting to his eyes. “You have boys to teach, I’ll teach them. If you’ve game to be shot, I’ll shoot it. If you’ve accounts to be kept, I’ll keep them. If you’ve any other work to be performed, which a gentleman and a man of honour can perform, I’ll undertake it. You would not ask me, I am sure, to do anything derogatory to my character.”
My father, however, did not accept his offer at once, wishing to see more of the stranger before he confided us to his care.
“I have a spare horse, and shall be happy if you will accompany me to Uphill,” said my father.
“I am not much accustomed to equestrian exercise, but I’ll try,” answered Mr Tidey; “and unless you have five-bar gates to leap, and the boundless prairie to gallop over, I trust that I shall stick on the back of the animal. I don’t like to be defeated, and I should not like to abandon the undertaking on account of my want of equestrian skill. Practice makes perfect; in the course of a few days I may perchance become an expert horseman.”
As dinner was about to be served, my father invited Mr Tidey to join him, and from the voracious way in which he shovelled the food into his mouth, it was very evident that he had long been a stranger to a satisfactory meal.
The horses being rested, my father ordered Peter, who had left my Uncle’s service, to bring out the steed he intended for his new acquaintance. Mr Tidey showed his ignorance of horsemanship by attempting, in the first instance, to mount from the wrong side, until a hint from Peter made him try the other, when, aided by the black, he scrambled up into the saddle. My father had advised him to let Peter carry his rifle and his slightly furnished knapsack, a fortunate circumstance, as was proved by the sequel. As long as the horse continued walking Mr Tidey kept his seat with becoming dignity, endeavouring to imitate the way my father held his rein, though he shoved his feet far into the stirrups. At length, coming to an even piece of road, my father put his horse into a trot. For some minutes Mr Tidey bore the jolting to which the movement subjected him with wonderful patience, until my father heard him shriek out—
“O captain, captain! for the love of heaven stop, or I shall be worn down to the bones.”