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no.u-.-o-u..-.-ua.no

. \

,Copyrighted, 1835, by Bxumn Axn Ann‘s. Kntul‘ud at the Post mm.» M New York, N. 36., n: Sucond Cluss MM] Mutter. Jun. '24, was.

Vol. IV. $2.50 Pubhshed Weekly by Beadle and Adams, “avg-3.“. N0. 41‘

“ Yem" N0. 98 WILLIAM S12. NEW YORK.

The SBHIBT’S SDI}; 0r, Adventures in Wilderness and Clearing.

BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.

 

 

 

  

 

2 The Settler’s Son.

 

J The Settler’s Son;
Adventures in Wilgfmess and Clearing.

A True Story of Early Border Life.
BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.

CHAPI'ER I.
rama AND son “Paosrncrmo” IN run WIL-

DmESS—THE INDIAN CAMP—THE NEW HOME

—a BATTLER—BOAT GONE.

A m and boy are in a. little boat gliding
down the stately Ohio. The boat is rigged
with a small sail, and with wind and current
moves onward easily and rapidly. The two
greens are Lawrence Bingnam and his son

erbert—a lad of twelve. They are from the
then frontier settlement, or post of Riverton,
which they had reached only a few days before,
coming from Penns lvauia to seek a new home
in the wilderness. here now are great cities,
thriving towns, fine farms. and the hum of all
manner of industries, there was then, in 1798,
only the primeval forest, the red sava e, and
the game that was his support. Lure by the
beauty of the land, and the promise of its early
settlement, Mr. Bingham went thither, and
borrowing the pleasure boat of Col. Ringgold,
the veteran post commander at Riverton,
dropped down stream on a tour of observation.

They are out in the middle of the deep-flowing
river, miles below Riverton, when a cry from
Herbert arrested the father’s attention. ‘ What
is that yonder?” demanded the b0 , who was
on the look-out in the bow of the li e-boat. He
pointed toward the Kentucky shore.

 

“Some animal which has entered the water ,

and is about to swim across.”
, “A bear?” ‘

“ No; it is a deer; don’t you see its antlers?”

The head, lying horizontal on the surface,
and surmounted by the prong-like horns, was
- now plainly discovered, gliding rapidly across
the stream.

“Let us overtake it!" exclaimed the boy, “ we
can head it 01331"

“I don‘t know about that,” said Mr. Bing-
ham, “but we will try.”

The boat was headed toward the Ohio side of

the stream, with the view of intercepting the a

deer: but the latter had snuffed the danger, and
displayed a celerity in the water, almost equal
to that upon the land; for, turning still more
down-stream, he shot forward like a startled
fish: and a few moments later, as his feet
touched bottom. his huge. leathem-covered
body- rose to view, with the water drippin
from it; he walked a few steps, until he stoo
upon the hard, dry earth, when he turned, cast
one wondering look upon those who had pre-
sumed to interfere with him, and then plunged
into the woods, and disappeared.

“Ahi‘yonder is something which looks as
though we are not the only persons who are in
this solitude.” said Mr. Bingham, pointing'to
the other side of the stream. where a bin

 

column of smoke was rising perpendicularly in
the still air. V .

“ It is the smoke from somebody‘s camp-fire.”

" Are they white people?" askcd Herbert.

“You are asking rather a difficult question.”
smiled Mr. Bingham. “I am inclined to think
however, that the people who are gathered
around that camp-fire are the red-skins.” .

“I don’t sup se there are many white people
here except a 0113 the river, or in the settle-
ments. How far are they away i” .

“ About half a mile, as near as I can judge}?

“ Do you think they will see-us?”

“Hardly, although it weald make little dif—

peace with us."

“That Ina be: but somehow or other, father,
I always fee a little frightened when I meet an
Indian. When I was out hunting the other
day, I was half startled out of my senses, when
I stopped by the 5 ring to drink, to see a great
painted Miami sit ing there cleaning his gun.”

“How did you know whether he was 3 Mi.
ami Shawanee, Wyandot, or Potawatomie?”

“I couldn’t have told by his dress or manner;
but he was an Indian, that I remember seeing
in Riverton, a week ago, and I heard Col. Ring-
gold say that he was a Miami.”

“ Well, he did you no great harm, I pre-
sume?” *

“ No; but I felt very good when I was able
to get away from him. am pretty sure he saw
that I was scared, and I couldn’t help looking
behind me until I got back to the settlement.”

“They are a strange peo le," remarked Mr.
Bingham, as much to himse f as to the boy. “ I
believe Colonel Ringgold has uniformly treated
them kindly, and to that as much as "to the
frowning block-house, do they owe their safety
thus far.” I

“ But, father, if I am not greatly mistaken,

’yonder is one of them, standing upon the

shore." .
Herbert was right; for at a point, nearly 01'»
posits that of the camp-fire, they saw an Indian

unter, standing in full view: He had a rifle
in his hand, and seemed to be watching the little
boat with great interest. Whether he had ever
before seen such a contrivance as a sail, is do»
certain, but he was interested in what was to
him a novel mode of propulsion. .

“ Wh are you runnin so close to the shore?”
inquire Herbert, as he 0 erved that their boat
kept but a few yards from the Ohio bank.

“Well, we shall losevnothing by giving that
camp—fire as wide a berth as sib e. I don’t
say that we have anything to ear, but there is
no tellin what strange ideas may enter into the
head of t at savage standing yonder.”

Herbert had no doubt of the prudence of his
father, although he did not express an fears.
The lndian surveyed'them until they be floated
quite a distance below him, when he turned
awa in the direction of the camp-fire. ”

“ e may watch for us to come back, re-
marked Herbert, when,they had regained the
middle of the current, and were sailing as
usua .

 

“How can he know that we intend to re-

‘ turn 7” asked the father.

ference whether they do or not, as they are at.

 

   

 

  
  
  
  
  
   
   

   
   
   
   
 
 
    
   
   
  
    
    
 

i

 

‘ The Settler’s Son. 3

 

“ If he is not a stranger in these parts, he
must have remembered that it belongs to Colonel
Ringgold, and he could see that we had no load
with us, so that we cannot be going very far.”

“ You talk like an old hunter,” laughed Mr.
Bingham, “one would be sure that you had

nt’several years, instead of weeks, in the

cat.

“ I s’pose I’ve learned a good deal from hear-
ing the hunters talk when they’re together."

Our friends were new two or three miles from
Riverton, and both were closely scanning the
shores, for some place which might mv1te them
toland. As yet, the monotony of the woods
remained unbroken, but suddenly Herbert called
out with an expression of delight:—

“ Yonder is the very place!’

“Where?”

He answered by pointing to a spot on the
Ohio shore, Where was a small clearing covered
with rank grass, and through the center of
which ran quite a large stream, debouching
into the river with considerable force.

The boat was instantly turned in that direc-
tionI and a few moments later, father and son
stepped upon the bank. The sail was lowered,
and the vessel pulled high and dry, where there
was no danger of its being washed away by the
current. ”

“ Do you know why I like this place?" asked
Herbert, as they walked up the ban k.

“I presume because it differs from the rest
of the country through which we have been
passing.

“ No; that stream of water is just the thing.
lVe will put up a saw-mill and saw boards and
planks for the settlers along the river.”

Mr. Bingham started. He felt that his son
had uttered a sentence which would decide an
era in the lives of himself and family. Build a.
saw-mill! the very idea. How singular that it
did not occur to him' when he first noticed the
stream pouring into the riverl HOW much
more singular that none of the settlers had
come prepared for such a business, for which
there was so much urgent call.

In the same moment, in which Herbert ut-
tered the sentence regarding the new project,
his father resolved that it should be carried out.
He did not take time to consider the details, but
he comprehended that it was possible, and that
there was no earthly reason to deter him.

Amore critical examination of the stream
was now made. It could not have been better
adapted to its purpose. It was uite broad and
rapid, with a considerable fal . A com ara—

' tively slight dam would answer, as its vo time

made it unnecessary that there should be much
back water. The bed of the stream lay several
feet below the inclosing banks; and, in short
it - was the very place which an experienced
milfr wpuld have selectedas the location of his
nu

On the western side of the stream (where one
glance was sufficient to satisfy Mr. Bingham his
future house should be erected , was the broad
clearing alluded to. Surroun in this was an
extent of “open wood ”—that is, he trees were
sparsely spread over the area; and below it was
entirely devoid of undergrowth. It was as if
some fierce fire had razed here years before. de-

 

stroying the shrubbery and vegetation which
grew near the earth, while the large timber was
left clear and clean, as if dressed for the wood-
man’s ax.

When the settlers had wandered for several
hours through the woods and up the stream,
they finally seated themselves upon a fallen
tree.
“ I don’t believe there is a. spot on the whole
of Ohio, which can suit us better," remarked
Mr. Bingham. “Nature intended this stream
to run a saw-mill.”

“ Do you mean to put up one, father?”

“The idea never occurred to me until you
spoke of it. I have thought considerable about
it in the last hour or two, and I will say that
the scheme strikes me as a good one.”

“ But where can on get the saw i”

“For that I she I have to go to Pittsburg.
There are some other indispensable articles.
which I shall ale?) be obliged to procure from
that lace. Why didn't you think of the saw-
mill, fore we started?” asked the rather with
a smile.

“ But how are you going to Pittsbur ?”

“ 1 shall borrow the colonel’s boat an take a
sail up the river; that will be much easier than
walking.” , r

“Yes: and you can bring me a good lot of
books; for I’ve read everything through that
we have.”

“ Have you read the Bible through!” .

“Yes, Sir; I am now going through it for the
third ti me.-—I have not missed a day since little
sister Florence died two years ago.” ,

“How long do you intend to keep up this
practice of reading the Bible?”

“ As long as I live.” ,was the prompt reply of
Herbert, uttered with a glowin eye.

“ But won’t it et to be an 01 story after you
have gone throng it several times?”

Herbert looked up in surprise at his father,
who smiled and added:

“ M dear son, nothing has pleased me more
than t. is daily habit which you have formed of
reading the Bible. Keep it up till your dying
day; let nothing prevent you: if you goabroad,
carry the little Bible of Florence with you.
Let it be a rule and a guideto your actions, and
there is no fear of its ever becoming distasteful
to youz or of its influence over your conduct
becoming weaker than it now is.”

“ But, father, I want books to study, and

books to read—i hope you will bring me a
great pile of them.”
“ Delpend upon it, son. I shall not forget you
when make the trip u the river. But I see
the sun is dawn behin the tree-tops, and it is
time we began to return.”

Father and son rose from the tree upon which
they had been sitting, when the quick e e of.
the latter detected a movement beneat the
trunk, and the next instant an arrowy head
darted straight out with lightnin -like quick-
ness, just touching the knee of r. Bingham,
accolmpanied at the same time by a short sharp
ratt e. ‘ '

“ Oh father! arattlesnakel he has bitten you!”
called out Herbert, darting backward, and
looking hurriedly around for some missile with
which to slay the reptile.

 

 

4 The Settler's s...“

 

“No, he hasn’t, but he came uncomfortably
near it. Keep back, for he is a big fellow, and
is terribly angry.”

The fangs of the re tile entered the trowsers ,

leg of Mr. Bingham, ut did not touch the skin.
The serpent did what his species seldom do; he
made a. slight miscalculation, just sufficient to

allow his victim to escape—a favor which the ‘

latter did not seem disposed to reciprocate.
The rattlesnake lay coiled beneath the log
upon which our two friends were sitting, and

at the same time, during their conversation, .

could have buried his fangs in either of their

ankles; but not until they rose together and ,
produced a er in the trunk which covered it i

did it make 1: e attempt.

bar:
a slight ortion of its coil could be discerned-
enough, owevcr, to show that it was an un-
commonly larro one. . Y

“He is an ugly customer,” said Mr. Binghnm,

after he had retreated several yards, and satis— I
fled himself that he had suffered no harm, “and ‘

we must kill him.” .
“ How are we going to get a. chance at him,
as long as he stays under the log?”
“ We’ll roll it over and then shoot him.”
“.Won’t that be too dangerous?"
“ We can manage that; you hold my gun,

and keep at a safe distance until I bring him :
” <‘ him apprehensive of danger, and did a great

“ Shall I shoot him?” -

“Do you think you can do it? You must
shatter his head; we don’t want to torture him
by mangiing his body.”

“Just give me the chance; I will show you
what I can do.”

Mr. Biugham now walked carefully to the
branches of the fallen tree. Grasping two of
. these, separated by several feet, he ilnllied with
them a moment, and then, by a su'lden wrench
turned the trunk halt over, leaving exposed

the glittering coil of an immense rattlesnake.

Startled by this uncovering of his retreat, the
reptile raised his head and waved it hither and
you, as it looking for something at which to
strike. The next instant the rifle of Herbert
Bingham was dischar ed, and the bullet strik-
ing the small head 0 the monster, smashed it
out or all shape or semblance. The Crotalus
species is killed with extraordinary ease, and
after a few furious struggles, it subsided into
death.

“There is one dispute of our claim settled,”
laughed‘Mr. Bingham. “You made a good
shot, Herbert; but it is almost dark, and we
should have started long ago."

The hurried down to t e river-bank to em.
Jerk or home, but to their sur rise and alarm,
upon reaching the stream, the oat was gonel

 

CH AFTER II.

THE SUCCESSFUL SEARCH—A SINGULAR OCCUR.-
BENOE-JI‘HE FLAT-BOAT—DANGER—THE m—
DIAN CAMP-FIRE.

“WHAT can be the meaning of this?” asked
Mr. Bin ham, looking furtively around him,
when he ound that the boat was really gone.

“ It must have floated sway.”

Alpparently satisfied, after striking, it drew ‘
its head, and only the gleam and glitter of ‘

 

i “ Impossible; for I pulled it about clear from

the water.

“ Hasn’t the river risen while we were gone?",

“The rain which we had a few days ago may‘
have caused it to rite, but it could not have been
more than a few inches—not enough to disturb
the boat. I don’t know what Colonel Ringgold
will think of us it we allow it to be lost in that
manner. But we cannot aflford tolose it," ad-
ded Mr. Bingham, speaking more. earnestly.
“ Let’s make a search.”

“ Which way shall we go?”

“ You go up the river and I will go down; the
moment one of us catches sight 0.1! it, he must
whistle to the other.’_’ '

As time was passing, the two instantly separ-
ated, and began tramping through the under-
growth, along-shore, for the boat which had so
mysteriously disappeared. When Herbert
reached the mouth of the stream, already
referred to, he was puzzled awhile as to the

manner in which he should cross it. Howwer, .

after considerable search, he found a place,
where he could spring from one stone to an—
other, and finallyland upon the opposite side,
where he diligently prosecuted his hunt.

Mr. Bing-ham, as he passed down the river
bank was somewhat uneasy at what had occur-
red. Taken in connection with the campfire
and the Indian, who had watched them so at-
tentively as they descended the river, it made

deal to dim the coloring of the ioture he had
formed‘in his mind, while ram ling through

I the wood. -

He passed several hundred yards down-
stream, carefully examining the shores, and at
every suitable opportunity, he looked out upon
the river, as far as the athering darkness
would permit; but as yet o had discovered
nothing which, could aflord a clew to the miss—
in r vessel.

finally he paused, and was debating the pru—
dence of proceeding further, when he was
startled by hearing the signal agreed upon. A
short, tremulous whistle, uttered quickly, as i!
the boy were alarmed at something, arrested
the father’s footsteps as suddenly as it the
Ehreatened danger had risen in the path before

im.

Searcer pausing a moment, he turned on his
heel and began retracing his footsteps. as rapid-
ly as the nature of the ground would permit.
The signal, repeated at every few seconds’ in—
termission, did not allay his alarm‘ and, not
until he had twice responded to it, did it cease.

Herbert carried no gun, while his father did.
This fact made the latter the more uneas 7;
and, when he reached the brawling torrent, 0
did not pause long enough to find a means of
crossing it dry shod, but sprung in, and waded
m Vidly across.

Io was hurrying alonn' in this manner, when
he abruptly came upon the boat. It was lying
under the bank, drawn up in precisely the
manner in which it had been left. Indeed the
similarity was so great, that Mr. Bmgham
looked around and examined'the contour of the
shore to make sure this was not the preclse $90"!
in which he had left it; but the location of the

, creek settled this matter beyond dispute.

’7

/

,.,:

 

 

 

 

 

.the care which Colonel Ringgold took to keep

The Settler’s Son. ‘ 5

l

Although greatly perplexed to understand l
the meaning of this, he was now more concern—
ed. for his child. He saw nothing of him; but
while endeavoring to pierce the gloom, the boy
himself came silently from the wood and stood 
beside him.

“ Thank Heaven!" exclaimed the father. “ I i
was fearful something had happened to you. :
Have you learned who ran away with the a
boat?"

“ I saw a man, that I think did it. ”

“ Where, and who is he!"

"I was looking along-shore for the_ boat, i
when I heard a noise as if it were grating on
the sand and the next minute, I caught Sight
of it, and saw a. man pullng it up on the bunk. i
I asked him what business he had with it, but:

he made no answer, but turned round and look- ,3

ed at me a moment, and then walked nwayfl
Without speaking a word.” I

“ Was he a white man or an Indian?”

“ He was a white man dressed like a hunter.”

“ Haven’t you see anything of him since?” ,

“Nothing at all; 1 was afraid. he might come ‘
back again and make trouble, so I called to you
pretty often.” 1

“The ’whole thing looks as strange as ever;‘
but, We have already IOst a'great deal of time”,

The boat was shoved into the water, the two }
sprung in, lifted the sail. and Mr. Binghami
took his position at the rudder as before. There.
was still quite a breez-, and they were waited:
pleasantly and swiftly homeward. As before, ‘
they took the cent-er of the river, keeping as
nearly as possible, equally distant from each
shore. ,

They had progressed but a short distance;
when the full moon rose above the tree-tops, and
shed such a light upon the river, that theyf
sailed with as much certainty as at noon day. 5
The scene was grand and impressive, but our?
friends could have much preferred that absolute
darkness should have incloscd them. There
was an unpleasant sense of their conspicuous
position, when they would have chosen to
reach home unobserved.

The history of the aborigines of this country,
shows that as a rule, they cannot be trusted. I
Abused, swindled and outraged as they ha'Vel
been, and as they still are, and always will be, ;
so long as an honest Indian trader or agent is
unknown, yet thenature of the North American
Indian is melancholy, sullen, revengeful and i
treacherous The celebrated treaty of Green—
ville, brought about by the con summate general-
ship of Anthony Wayne, held the Delawares,
Potawatomies, Shawanees, and Miamies in an
iron gras until the whirlwind of war swept
over the est in 1812' but it was a forced peace,
into which many and many a dusky-hood son
of the forest entered unwillingly.

When Herbert Bingham expressed his fear of
meeting an Indian alone, he only gave utterance
to the general feeling which obtained among
the more mature settlers. There was a deep-
seated distrust of them, which was shown by

 

the block-house in good repair, and the pains to ‘
which he went to maintain a reserve of pro-
visions nnd ammunition within it.

This will make plain the cause of Mr. Bing“-

 

ham’s wish to reach home quietly and unob-
served, aud will show why he steered as far
away as possible from the Indian camp-fire.
So now they unconsciously lowered their Voices,
when they spoke to each other, and glanced

 

‘ from shore to shore, and up and down the

stream, as if fearful of some approaéhing
danger.

All at once they saw through the partial
gloom, a, huge dark body floating around a. bend
in the river, directly toward them. There was
no light or appearance of life upon it, and it
caused considerable surprise upon the part of
our two friends.

“ What do you imagine it to 13.9?” asked Mr.
Binghum.

“There has been quite a freshet you know,
and this may be some settler’s house floating
down the river.”

“ No; I think it is a fiat-boat.”

“Ohl yes, certainly it is; I can see its shape,
now since you have spoken of it.”

“ Hark! don’t you hear the creek of the long,
swinging our, and you can see the water flash,
as they work the clumsy craft."

All know with What distinctness a slight
sound can be heard on a still summer night, and
there is scarcely a school boy who is not familiar
with the statement that the cry of “ All’s Well :”
can_be heard from New to Old Gibraltar, the

statian being something less than a dozen miles
apar .
Although the flat-boat and sailing vessel were
separated a good half-mile, yet our friends
plainly heard the slightest sound upon it. The”
creaking of the great swinging oar, the footstep
of the man who controlled it, and even his
“ puff” as he paused, as though tired from his
exertions; these could not have been more
audible it: uttered within a dozen feet of them.

The selling boat was now shooting through
the water at a rapid rate, and the two crafts
were swxl'tly nearing each other. The sail was '
lowered when within a few hundred yards of
meeting. ' '

.“ There may be some friends on board who
Will be glad to see us. I will hail them.”

But before Mr. Binghnm could do so several ‘
heads appeared at the gunwale of the {lat-boat,
and cal ed out to them:

“Who are you?"

“Mr. Bingham and son, returning to the
settlement alone.”

" Do you use those kind of boats in these
parts?”

“ We do, although I believe they are not'
generall in use,” replied Mr. Bingham, as he
ran his. oat alongside and allowed. it to drift a
short distance with the large one. .“May I ask
where you are from yourselfi”. ,- v

“ A few miles from Pittsburg. We are
bound down the river, about a dozen miles from
here I suppose.” ' .

Our friends inquired several of their names,
but they heard none which they recognized.

nor did the bring any news of in] interest
or note. n reply to an in uiry, they said
there had been several shots ed at them on
their way down; but no damage was done, and
max saw nothing of enemies.
are being nothing to gain by further com—

 

  

a

The Settler’s Son.

 

panionshi , Mr. Bingham again raised his sail,
and his ittle craft sped rapidly on its way.
Less than a dozen yards was still intervening
between them when the same person with
whom they had been holding their conversation
called out to them:

“you will find a camp-fire of Indians round
the bend. Be careful of them.”

“Did they molest you?”

“ No; but I ihink they would have done so if
they hadn’t seen we were prepared. I don’t
think they will be afraid to trouble on.”

And again exchanging farewe] s the two
cratts separated, never again to meet. The
admonition of the flat~boat served to render
Mr. Bingham apprehensive. He held no well-
deflned fear, except a general distrust of the
Indians, of whom, as yet, he had not received
thfit first evidence of hostile intent toward him-
se .

It was not long before they passed the bend,
where they had first caught si ht of the flat-
boat, when they discovered t e camp fire to
which the emigrants had alluded. As correclly
as they could judge, it was directly opposite
the oint where they had seen the column of
smofie filtering through the tree-tops.

The fire stood upon the ver edge of the
river, and its broad rays were t rown far out
upon the stream, even to the opposite side,
which fact. taken in connection with the un-
usually bright moonlight, made concealment
upon the river almost out of the question.

“We may as well keep in the center of the
stream,” said Mr. Bingham, “for I don’t see
how they can possibly miss observing us.”

“ Wouldn’t it be best to run close to the Ohio
side?”

“But the light from the camp—fire reaches
clear across.”

“ It is very faint there.”

“The moonlight is very strong, and won’t it
be worse for us to attempt concealment and
fail, than to sail boldlglforward, as though we
had no fear?” asked r. Bin ham of his son,
really feeling in a dilemma as the best course
for him to take.

“But don’t you see the moon has not risen
high enough to show upon the shore?”

‘Yes;butI do not see as that will help us

an 2! ,

%ith this, Mr. Bingham ran his boat to the
o posits side of the river, keeping as close to
t e shoreuspossihle. The bright moon being
less than one-half the distance above the hori-
zon, the shadow of the overhanging trees was
thrown several rods out n n the :‘ivcr. Into
this line of shadow the little boat glided and
sped noiselessly upon its way.

The hearts of our friends throbbed faster ‘

than usual, as they came opposite the camp-fire,
and they did not dare to trust themselves to
s eak, so fearful were they of attractin
tron. The sail would have been lowere before
reaching this hit, but for the apprehension
Mr.’Bingham alt that the slight noise would
attract the attention of those whom they were
so anxious to avoid.

Thus far, although they had continually
glanced toward the camp-fire, the had seen
nothing of the Indians; but, when t ey entered

atten- .

 

the shade they discovered several figures pass
between them and the light. Their shadows,
grotesquely lengthened, were thrown far out
upon the stream, and they themselves had the
appearance of giants as they floated to and fro.

All at once Mr. Bingham reached up and
caught the branch of a tree in his hand, and
held the boat fast.

“’Shl I think they have discovered us!” he

whispered.

CHAPTER III.

HOME AGAIN—THE JOURNEY TO PITTSBURG~
RETURN—STUDIES—THE NEW BAW-MILL—RE-
MOVAL TO THE NEW HOME.

FATHER and son held their breath in suspense.
Two of the Indians seemed to be looking to-
ward them, and one of them raised his gun, as
if he intended to shoot. It was a fearful mo—
ment; they expected each moment to hear the
report, and perhaps the bullet would prose
fatal to one or the other. Both lifted their
hearts to God and prayed Him that He would
stay the arm or turn aside the missile. Feeling
that no good could be accomplished by remain»
ing stationary, Mr. Bingham loosened his hold
and the boat glided forward again.

The red-man did not fire, and the probability 2

is that he did not intend to do so; but our
friends drew a great sigh of relief when they
had passed beyond the camp-fire, greater than
that experienced a half-hour later, when they
touched the shore at Riverton, drew the boat
up to the bank and wendod their way home.

It being finally decided after a leng' consulta—
tion with wife and friends that the mill
should be erected, the next step was to get the
necessary materials. The moat important of
these could only be obtained at Pittsburg. The
best, and, in fact, almost the only means of
making n journey thither was with Colonel
Ringgold’s boat. Herbert was anxious to ac-
company his father, he being fearful that his
supply of books would be forgotten; but his
parents thought different and he was left hoe
hind. It was a beautiful morning that Mr.
Bingham bade his family and friends good-by,
and hoisting his sail, sped up the Ohio toward
its source, or more properly where it first as
sumes its name. The journey was accomplished
in less than a week, without any incident wor-
thy of note, and the miller at once set about
procuring the much-needed articles.

Two saws of the best metal, besides a couple
of hand-saws, some fifty yards of belting, and a
large uantity of iron, such as he knew would
be nee ed in the construction and repair of the
mill, were purchased. This absorbed consider-
able of the miller’s funds, but he had reserved

lenty with which to redeem his promise to his

0y, and he did not forget him. Arithmetios,
philosophies, books of travel and adventure,
geographies and miscellaneous books, which in
those days cost for more than they do now, and
then the settler looked about him for some
means of transportin his freight down the
river. The boat of clone] Ringgold was un-
equal to the task of car ing them, and he,
therefore looked for a flat— oat descending the-
river, as he knew scarcely a. day passed without
one starting either from Pittsburg or some
point above.

      
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
  
 
   
  
   
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
 
   
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
   

 

 

The Settler’s Son. '1

 

This, however, necessitated a delay of several
days, but he secured one at last, and finding its
owners very willing to carry whatever he
wished, he made still further purchases for his
embryo saw mill and had them placed on board.
The books he carried in his own boat, and em-
barked on his downward voyage at the same
time that the bulky flat-boat drifted slowly
down the oung Ohio.

Impelle by wind, he journeyed much more
rapidly than is friends, and touched at River-
ton in due time, with what, to Herbert, was the
most valuable cargo that was ever transported
to the West. The boy, as perhaps we should
have stated long ago, was very studious, and
this disposition had been carefully encouraged
and directed by'his mother, who, well educated
herself, set apart a portion of every day for the
instruction 0 her son.

The greatest blessing which a child can have
is a good mother, the greatest calamity which
can befall him is her loss. Herbert Bingham
had been highly favored in this respect. Al-
most the first sentences he learned to lisp were
those which made up his Childhood’s prayer at
his mother’s knee, and when his mind grew and
became filled with the curiosity natural to those
of his age, he rarely failed of having it gratified
when he went to his beloved mother. Her
purest pleasure was in the instruction of the
~ittle boy and girl; but, when the latter was
laid in her tiny grave, beneath the old oak in
her native village, then her boy scemed drawn
to her by a still stronger chord of affection than
before.

Few mothers know how to restrain and tem-
per their aflection for their children. Mercy
so often usu s the place of justice, that the
child is spoile . It is a severe task for an af-
fectionate parent to witness the pain of her
own child, even thou b there be a certainty
that it is necessary or its vigorous moral
growth. A boy loves the heart only the more
warmly, and respects the hand the more true,
which prompts and administers the punishment
for wrong doing, and that teacher who is not
merely kind, but who is eminently just to all, is
the one whose memory shall be fragrant
through all time to those who have sat under
his instruction.

Herbert devoured with avidity over and over
all the books within his reach, and made a cir-
cuit of Riverton, upon his arrival, for quest of
more mental food. He was only partially sat-
isfied. Few of the settlers had anything more
than a. Bible and an old almanac or two, and
these were accessible in his own family. Here
and there, he found a treasure, but the owner
had fully as exalted an opinion of it, as ho had
himself, and it therefore availed him little.

But when the little boat of Colonel Ringgold
touched at the wharf and he saw the pile of
books, he could not restrain his joy. Fuminng'
his hands through them. and glancin at a few.
to make sure he was not dreaming, e whirled
around, and dashedhway to his mother, that
she might share in his delight. A

“ Oh mother! mother! father has brought me
ten thousand books l” t
“ How many!” she asked With her quiet
smile. I

t

 

“ Why, I think there must be—over twenty."

“Ahl that is quite a diflerence; of courSe he
would not forget ou—”

But the excit youngster had dashed down
to the boat again to make sure that not one of
his prizes were in danger. They were soon
taken out, and with his arms, endeavoring to
grasp more than usual, started on a run homo-
ward. The natural co uences followed. Tim
pile of books reaching so igh that his View of
what was directly in front was shut ofl,he did
not see the large stone which lay in his path,
nor was he aware of its existence, until he was
precipitated over it, and his books were scat—
tered in every direction.

By this time, he had gained an idea of his
undue haste, and he became more deliberate in
his movements. After a time, the books were
all safely transported to the house where they
were staying, and he instantly became so ab-
sorbed in them, as to be oblivious to the saw-
mill, new home, or anything at all in the out-
side world. Father and mother looked at each
other, smiled quietly and concluded to let him
alone for 'he present.

The settlers of Riverton took fully as much
concern in tho new saw—mill as did the pro-
prietor, for they had a rospective interest in
it; and they voluntee all the~ assistance he
could need, and he gladly accepted their prof-
fer. It would have been a task, amounting al-
most to an impossibility, for a single man,
alone and unaided, to erect asaw-mill. Equally
Herculean tasks may have been performed in
the world’s history, but Mr. Bingham hardly
felt that he was the man to perform them. r.

A few days later, the flat-boat was seen, and
Colonel Ringgold himself and half a dozen of-
the settlers rowed out to intercept it. Finding
everything right they-sailed on downstream,
until they reached the site of the new mill,
when they took down their sail and waited for
their more tardy friends.

The flat-boat discharged her load, while floats
ing down current. and in their trips the little
sail-boat deposited it upon the shore. The men
were libera ly paid for bringing it from Pitts-

burg, pleasant wishes interchanged and the ,

work was immediately begun.

It would be uninteresting to give pll the de-
tails of the erection of the saw~mill. Necessity
is the mother of invention, find the settlers had
all acquired a deftness in the construction of
buildings, which did them good service. Under-
standing the immense work which would be re-
quired of the mill, Mr. Bingham prudently re-
solved to make it so firmly and securely as to
compel it to die of old age when a pro r time
should come for a cessation of its usefu ness.

The foundation was laid "broad and sure,"
the timbers were massive and firm. and as it
gradually approached completion, its ponderona
parts would have attracted the notice of an
passer-by. The architecture was rude, but it
answered its ends as well as if it came from the
hands of the most famous archit cts of the time.

The banks were theomade, and made too,
with the knowledge that in, all probability they
would he often ca led upon to hear a prodi, ions

ressure. Lastly
ozether. closed, and

the. cwerful gates were put
e back-water began rap-

c

 

 

    

The Settles-’9 Son.

 

idly to collect until it covered an area. of fully  The mill was a sourceof wonder and delight to

an acre, the center of which was very deep. 3

Herbert, audit required but a short time for

When it reached this point, it began flowing off him to learn the manner in which it should be
at an opening which had been left for its escape, run. This enabled his father to assist the men
prov1ded on purpose to meet the extraordinary ‘ at their work, without suffering the mill to be
pressure of a freshet, when the mill-gates and , idle.

mill itself would be endangered.

l

Steadin the habitation assumed the propor-

All being ready, and a log adjusted, Mr. tions of a house; the natural clearing was
Bingham turned the water upon the overshot razed with the sickle, until it was shaved down

wheel. Never did, he forget the thrill which
passed through him, as, after a moment’s pause
e heard it begin revolving and then observe
’

the saw slowly rise and is and immediately

dart up and down with an eager rapidity, as if ‘

anxious to try its teeth you something. Then
us it nipped the end the huge log, whata.
smooth line it instantly bit across it! and then
how it plunged strai ht into the massive trunk,
and raged and crunc (d, and hurled the dust up
and down, as if it real] enjoyed the sport!

All this time, Mr. ingham, Colonel Ring-
-gold and their friends, stood Booking upon the
action of the saw with the most unbounded ad-
miration and deli ht. The perfect accuracy
with which it wor ed was but the natural re-
ward of the care taken in and the labor bestowed
upon it, and the conqueror never received his
laurels with more pleasure than did they all
this evidence of absolute success.

They now turned their attention to the in-
terior working of the mill. The large wheel
turned slowly and regularly, and the connect-
ing band worked to anicety;"the flow of the
water was found more than suflicient to run it
perpetually. Indeed the surplus was now run-
nir of! at the waste gate.

“ a there any improvement you can suggest?”
asked Colonel Ringgold, as they finally came
back to where the saw was cutting its way so
nicelv through the log.

“None at all, unless it be in the reverse
motion,” replied Mr. Bingham; “ we will speed-
ily test that.” ' .

The saw having now reached the extremity
of the log, the water was slackened, the “re-
verse,” applied, and it danced backward, as
does an at late, when dallying with his adver~
sary preparatory to dealing the deciding blow.
' ‘ it works likea charm," said Mr. Bingham,
unable to repress his deli ht. “I am now ready
to take contracts for uilding villages and
towns.” ‘

“ Your first work, I suppose, will be in putting
up gem-self 'a house and what buildings you
nee ; after thatI think we can keep you run<
nin awhile.”

“ as; my next duty is to erect a house for
my famil . 'I‘ will leave them in Riverton
untilit is nished.”

“ Of course; but it is now well toward night,
so we may as well go home together.”

“Wait a half-hour lon er until I have sawed
this log into planks, and will be ready."

, This was done, and just as the sun was set-
ting, the little part embarked and made their
mg home to R ver on. I , .

n the morrow,Mr. Bin ham brought his son
and two men (who had vo unteered their assist-
ance) back With him. The latter setto work
felling trees while the first devotedhis whole
time to sawing them up into heavy planking.

 

to the very ground; the ponderous framework
was ad lusted, and the massive planks secured,
until at last, a'goodly sized house stood upon
the banks of the river. It was a building re—
markable from the fact that it was not made of
logs, as were all others in this section. Its
fragrant planks gleamed through the green
woods, and no doubt attracted more than one
wondering gaze from the animals wandering
through the forest.

It commanded an extensive view both up and
down the river, and was a source of unfailing
wonderment to the emigrants who floated by.
There could be little wonderment regarding it,
as the explanation of its presence in these parts
was at its side, in the aim e of the savage saw-
mill, crunching the hnge ogs in its maw, with
such a clamor and with such merciless accuracy.

All being ready, Mr. Bingham moved his
family and his worldly possessions into his new
house.
CHAPTER IV.

THE HUNT~SBOOTING A DEER—A NARROW n3-
CAPE—WOLVES.

HERBERT BINGBAM was delighted with his
new house. The broad, beautiful Ohio, that
flowed so calmly by, and which glanced so
brightly. at moonlight: the noisy plush of the
brook as it tumbled into the river; the vast
woods, stretching away until, in the far dis-
tance, they became misty and mingled with the
horizon; the towering trunks nearer at hand,
and the cool twilight of the forest itself; all
these had a charm or'the boy. as they still have
for many an older head; and when not stud —
ing, or reading, or when not needed toassist
his father, be frequently spent hours in ram‘
bling aimlessly among the trees, or fishing in
the spring-like streams.

For several days Herbert was kept so steadily
em loyed, assisting his father, that he had ii —
tle eisure firm on his hands; and when it did
come, he devoted himself so assiduously to his
studies, under the impression that he had'a
great deal of lost time to make up, that he be-
gan to grow pale, lost his appetite and was
threatened with a turn of sickness. bbserving
this, his parents consulted together and con-
cluded, as the best medicine that couldbe given
him, that he should be sent on a day’s ramble
into the woods.

One evenin , as they sat around the fire, Her-
bert was per excd over and com letely occu—

ied in a pro lem, at which he he been study-
ng for the last three days. The parents, for a
few moments, looked at the pale face and puz-
zled expression, and the fa her was about to
speak, when the boy’s eyes sudden] brightened,
and he sprung to his feet, his who 9 face aglow
with pleasure.

“ I’ve not it! I’ve not it!”

     

    
 
 

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The .Settler’s Son.

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And he danced about the floor as if he were
fairly wild. He was not restrained in these
noisy demonstrations until he had vented his
excitement, when he again sat down and picked
up his arithmetic. -

fl “$1M; that book,” said the father, kindly but

rm y.

The son looked at him in surprise.

“ You have done enough for today; in fact,
you have done enough for this week.’

“There’s another problem that I should like
to finish to-night.”

_“ It won’t do," said Mr. Bingham, shaking
his head. “ It is just as easy for a boy to study
too much as not enough. It is true that boys
ain’t very a t to do it, but I would much pre—
fer to see a y neglect his studies than apply
himself too closely. You are getting pale and
dweak,‘ and must leave your books for a few

a s. a

X What do you wish me to do?”

“_I have no work at which I particularly need
assistance, but fo—morrow I wish you to go on a
hunt—to spend the entire day at it.”

The boy looked as if he were in doubt whether
to be pleased or not.

“ I should like it very much, but I have been
calculating how many problems I could find
before Saturdaly night and if I lose to-morrow,
it will upset a1 my calculations.”

" I am glad to hear it. Put your books
away and spend the rest of the evenin in run-
nin bullets, and getting the gun in orger.”

erbert did as he had been directed, and run
over fifty bullets, heaping them in a tiny
mound, where the looked he as many balls of
gleaming silver. he powder-flask was filled,
the vent hole carefully cleaned out, and the
barrel swathed and the flint picked, so that
there might be no unnecessary delay in the
morning.

These proceedings occupied the greater part
of the evening, and when completed, the even-
ing_ devotions were attended to, after which all
retired rest.

The bo ’s sleep was broken by dreams, and
frequent y be awoke with a burning forehead,

and a dull, uncomfortable feeling, which he;

knew too well had been caused by excessive
application to his studies. He understood the
obJect of his parents in giving him a holiday
for hunting, and was fully sensible of the need
he had for some strong exciting physical exer-
cise, for he remembered how sweet and dream-
less his slee had been, before he had become so
intensely a rbed in his arithmetic; and he
did not doubt that if left to himself, he would
have gone on until his health was com letely
gone. Few indeed are the youngsters w 0 ap-
prccia to the wisdom of their rents.

The next morning dawned might and beauti-
ful, and Herbert was (Luite elated at the re-
spect of his hunt. He owever felt quite lan-
guid and had little appetite.

“ i don’t think I sh 1 need much dinner,” he
faidhto his mother, as she was preparing his
line .

“ Perhaps I will come home at dinner time.”

“You mustn’t do any such thing. flour fa-
ther left instructions for you not to ma e iylour
appearance before dusk; and be my! be w be

 

better pleased, if you take a notion to camp out
and come back to—morrow afternoon."

“ If he is so anxious for me to do so, perhaps
I shall.”

And bidding his mother good—by ho flung his
rifle over his shoulder, and we ing rapidly
across the clearing, plunged into the woods.

The boy had walked but a short time, when
he began to experience the natural effect of the '
bracing air, and his brisk exercise. His spirits
rose, .and he soon found himself singin snatches
of songs, whistling, and occasionall is over—
flow of spirits vented itself in a and about,
while he paused and listened to the echoes ring—
ing among the forest arches.

Squirrels bounded from limb to limb, and
both black and gray whisked before him, dart-
ing up saplings, or chirping from the topmost
branches, as if defying his prowess and skill;
and occasionally be caught right of some rab-
bit in some small cluster of bushes, hishead and
ears erect. with his round shining eyes fixed
upon him, and his jaws rapidly munching his
cud; then as he came nearer, he skurried away,
rattling and tearing through the dried leaves,
as if he had been propelled from the mouth of a
cannon; but such game was in no danger from
our hemfiand he never once drew sight upon
them. a was in search of nobler game.

When the sun was near the meridian, Her-
bert became sensible of a ravening hunger,
and sat down beneath a large beech to eat his
dinner. His mother had prepared a goodly
guantity of food, but he .ate every morsel, and

‘ wished for more.”

“ If my appetite increases at this rate, I
shall have to have help to satisfy it,” muttered
the boy, as after a ood long rest he again
shouldered his rifle an started oil? in the woods.
He had left the riVer hours before and was
wandering aimlessly forward some hours later,
in that manner peculiar to boyhood, when the
rippling of water cauvlit his ear, and he soon
came upon abrook w ich dashed and foamed
down a steep declivity, and then hurried noise—
lessly down into a narrow valley. He took a
long refreshing draught from its cold waters,
and then arise and took a survey of the pleas-
ant ocean.

Around him were sugar ma le, hickory, beech,
poplar buckeye, pawpaw, as , sycamore horn-

eam and numerous other trees, while clusters
of the richest grapes drooped from the branches,
where bushels of them must perish without one
brushing the blue from their pulpy richnes.

Casting his eye down the valley, he was some-
what startled and considerably Elapsed at de—
scrying a nobl docking buck drin g from the
brook. The noise of the ri ling waters had
prevented the animal from ear-ing the ap-
proach of his enemy, or he would have been off.

ike an arrow.

The young hunter could not have‘had a bet-
ter opportunity, and carefully sighting his gun,
so as to strike just behind the ore-leg w ere
the heart could be reached, he pulled the trig-

r. The mortally wounded animal made a
frenzied leap directly upward, whirled around,
ran a few paces, and then striking squarely

, ainst a tree, dropped down uiveri , and by
t e time the boy reached him e was ead.

 

      

10

Herbert was naturally elated with his success,
especially as he found the animal in prime con-
dition. Feeling very hungry, he concluded
that the best means of procuring supper was at
hand, and he immediately began dressing it.

“ I’ll camp in the woods to-night,” he reflected,
as he busied himself in cutting it up. “Here
is water, and the place is sheltered from any
wind that may come up in the night, while I
can build my fire against this fallen tree and

make a comfortable night of it, and I think by ,

the time I go home, father and mother will be
willing to let me have another pull at my
arithmetic.”

Probably the youngster would not have
thought of doing this, but for the' hint he had
received from his mother before starting, but
he was fully resolved that they should not see
him for twenty-four hours, and should the
weather remain pleasant he had serious thoughts
of spending several days in the woods.

Herbert had learned enough of hunting to
understand how a deer should be cut up, and it
did not take him long to extract the choicest
portions from the game. When this was done.
the next proceeding was to build a fire. There
was any quantity of fuel, but he had left his
flint and tinder at home. He managed, how-
ever, to set fire to some of the crisp leaves by
flashing the powder in the pan of his rifle, and
these he uietly blew into a blaze, and in a few
momentsdiad a roaring mass of decayed Wood,
twigs and branches. Two large green stakes
were made to unite above the blaze, and to
them be fastened a goodly—sized piece of meat,
which with careful nursing was done to a nice
juicy brown. -

Around him were any number of hickor and
chestnuts. The ground was strewn wit the
former, while the large burrs were gaping open,
there having been several nipping Ixosls; and
as the velvety linings curled outward. the trio
of plump brown chestnuts could be seen within,
pendent from every portion of the tree. The
slightest jar and they came rattling down like
a storm of hailstones, strening the ground with
shining brown. .

Herbert gathered a quart or two of these
which were cooked upon the blazing coals, they
crackling and bursting with the rapidly swell-
in richness within. The venison was tender,
ju cy and nourishing, after which the nuts
came in by way of dessert, so it looked as if our
yougg friend was doing as well as could be ex—
pec upon this his that day’s hunt.

Herbert had not failed to provide himself
with a blanket, which, although rather incon-
v nient to carry at times, he knew would be
needed when he came to lie down at night.
Then too fearful that he might not be able to
slee until morning, he provrded himself with
fue to keep his flre going through the night;
for the wakeful hunter finds such an accompani-
ment an agreeable way of Whllll g away the
lonely hours of darkness.

When he had com lefed all his nrrargements,
twilight had alremy come; and as the gloom
SPttled around him he could not avoid the
Wish, that after all. he had made hiswa home
and Was lying beneath the roof where t e sigh- I
in; of the night-Wind would lull him to sleep:;

The Settler's Son.

 

and .he believed, too, that his parents were
longing for him, asthey gathered around the
evening meal, but he understood the reason that
they had advised him to take 8. hi ht in the
woods, in order to give him a 00 rest from
his books, enforced rest which e would not
feel, if his mind were diverted in this manner.
Still further be re rded it as a sort of appeal
to his manhood, w ich his natural pride would
not alIOW him to decline. There was little if
any personal danger incurred, as there was
nothing to fear from Indians, and as to wild
animals, he had plenty of powder and ball, and
what more could he ask?

He sat for along time, gazing dreamin into
the fire, conjuring up all sorts of images and
pictures among the embers running over some
of the problems which had so perplexed him
and which he had succeeded in mastering, an
longing for the arithmetic, that he might attack
and overcome new difficulties. Final] ,as the
night g‘rgressed, he committed himse f to the
great eing, who alone could see him, and
wrapping his blanket around him, “lay down
to pleasant dreams.” Lulled by the murmur of
the brook, his tired frame soon sunkinto a
Sweet, refreshing slumber.

Herbert slept soundly until far into the n' ht,
when he was awakened in rather a start ing

manner. A furious firowl close by his face in-'

stantly drove away a drowsiness, and opening
his eyes, he saw by the dim light of the smold-
ering campfire two large animals snarling over
the remains of his deer. With a shiver of tar-
ror, he sprung up, threw wood upon the fire,
and caught his gun.

As the flame flared up, the two wolves re-
treated into the darkness, while the boy, with a
thankful heart that he had not been torn to
pieces while asleep, placed himself on watch,
with the resolve not to fall asleep again, while
these ravening brutes were around him. '

Nothing of the deer remained but a few glis-
tening bones, and the wolws seemed desirous
of serving the young hunter in the same man-
ner. As the shortest method of disposing of
them, Herbert carefully sighted his gun, by the
light of the fire, and sent a bullet between the
eyes of the largest wolf, which doubled him up
like a. jack—knife, with a short elp. He had
scarcely fallen, when his co
and began reading and eating him. He was
given little time to enjoy his unnatural feast,
when a Second bullet stretched him lifeless by
the side of the other carcass. ,.

Herbert now hea (1 wood u on the fire; and,
as the flames more and crac (led, and he care-
fully reloaded his piece, he experienced a sense
of securitv, very comforting under the circum-
stances. He saw that he had enough fuel to
keep a. fire until daylight, and asloug as this
was done, he had nothing to fear from any of
the wild animals that roamed the woods.

Scarce half an hour had elapsed when he de-
tected shadowy forms prowling along the edge
of the brook, as if seeking to come upon him
unawares. He gave them a shot or two, but
took special pains to see that his flredid not
smolder, as he was well aware that this was
his safeguard. , . - - -

In the course of the next hour be counted

6 sprung upon.

 
 

 
     
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
     
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
  
     
   
 
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
    
   

5,

 

 
 

     
  
   
 

£7
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The Settler's Son. ' ll

 

over twenty of these lank animals, which al-
ways seem cadaverous and hungry; but the
caused him little uneasiness, as none of their
species have been known to raise enough cour-
age to walk through flre.

CHAPTER ’V.

THE RUINS—THE BEAR—A CRUEL PROCEEDING
—FIGIIT BETWEEN THE BEAR AND PANTHER——
THE YOUNG PIONEER AND PANTHER—LOST
IN THE WOODS—A FRIEND IN NEED—HOME
AGAIN.

WHEN the first faint gray streaks of morning
began stealing through the woods, the rowliiig
wolves shrunk away, and Herbert ingham
saw that he was alone, with no eye upon him
except the one which never slumberod or
slept. First returning devout thanks to heaven
for preserving him through the night in such a
remarkable manner, he took a morning bath in
the cool clear brook, and then slung his rifle
over his shoulder, and started in quest of some-
thing for breakfast.

As the readiest means at hand, he shot several
of the plumpest‘looking squirrels, which he car-
ried back to camp, and spocdil dressed and
cooked. With his sharp appetite, they made
himanourishing breakfast. By the time he
was ready to resume his hunt, the sun was up,
and another beautiful day was upon him.

Herbert found that his blanket had effectu.
ally protected him from the evening dews and
damp, and he experienced no ill-cfl’ects from
his first night out of doors, although he expe-
rienced an occasional drowsiness from his (10-
privation of sleep.

“ I think I shall spend the next night at
home," was the reflection of the boy, as he
trumped through the forest on the lookout for
something worthy of his riil -. Without any
general object, he followed the course of the
brook, which sometimes dashed over rocks and
stones, and then flowed still and deep; but
everywhere so clear, that it resembled liquid
air, the slightest speck being visible upon the
bottom. _ tintervals he paused and watched
the fish gliding so quietly and swiftly beneath
the surface, their scales occasionally flashing
like a ray of sunlight darting through the cur-
rent.

A mile or two in this manner brought him to
a small clearing, which it could be instantly
seen had been the site of some building a. few
years before. The heavy logs were scattered

ither and thither, blackened and charred, large
stones were tumbled around, while a well was
filled with dirt and debris, and a chilling air of
desolation rested upon the entire scene.

A short distance away was a large mound of
earth, which resembled nothing so much as a.
large grave. Everything was silent, but the
Silence told an_eloquent tale of the attack, the
repulse, the siege, the burning building, the
hand-to-hand struggle, the final defeat and
massacre, and the return, perhaps months after-
ward of a few of the survivors and the gathering
and burial of the mutilated bodies.

Herbert Bingham stood a long time gazing
upon these relics with a feeling of solemnity
and sadness, much at variance w1th_ his emotions
when he first came upon the ruins. The re-

,furiatod animal straight to

 

flectlon that it was so recent since ihe=e thinzs
had occurred; that 'but a few ears only hud
passed since a building stood. here, “‘1th so
many hearts beating high With hope, and that
this much was all left to remember them by,
was calculated to alarm him for his own per-
sonal safet , and Herbert caught himself look-
ing furtive y around to see that no red-man was
stealing upon him unawares.

It was this natural apprehension which, per—
haps more than an thing, caused him to go as
far away as possib e from the spot and to en-
gage more zealously than ever in the hunt.
The occasional cry of a wild animal told him

. that he might ex ect their appearance at any

moment, and he eld himself constantly ready
for any danger.

It was near noon when he reached a broad,
smooth creek, which flowed quietly through a
vnlley~like depression in the woods. He had
just seated himself upon a fallen tree to rest
himself, when he heard a singular purring,
barking noise, and the next moment detected
two young panther cubs frolicking and tum~
bling upon t 9 very edge of the CTEI'k. They
resembled a couple of huge kittens, full to over-
flowing with sport and animal life, not still for
a moment.

While Herbert was watching them, he de-
tected a bear advancing silently down the hill
with his eyes fixed keenly upon them. Not
suspecting any evil design, the boy let his rifle
lie on his lap while with no little interest he
watched their movements. The cubs paid no
attention to the bear, while be advanced steadily
forward, until he was directly upon ~them,
when with one sweep of his paw he tore one of
the cubs almostto shreds, laying it (leads dozen
feet from him, partly on the land and partly in
the water. Ere the other could comprehend
the danger, it was served in almost the same
manner, while the ruthless perpetrator of the
cruelt looked savagely around as if in nest of
somet ing more upon which to exercise is hru.
tality.

“ That was unworthy of the wolf.” remarked
Herbert, fairly enraged at what he had wit-
nessed -“and you shall nevur do it again.” _ ,

\Vith which he raised his gun and sighted for
the head of the bear, but the next moment
lowered it with a thrill of sur risa.

The bear was not to die y his hand: for
glancing across the creek, he saw rapidly gal-
loping down the hill the mother of the cubs,
her whole body aflame with fury‘ltlit the sight of'
the destroyer of her young. 9 rustling of
the leaves caught the ear of the bear and glanc-
ing upward he gave a whine of terror, and
would have turned to flee; but he stood at bay
and awaited the onset.

“Now the fur will fly!” thought Herbert, as
he hastily finished reloading his gun and with
sparkling eye watched the coming battle. ‘

He had not long to wait. When a mother
panther sees her oung mangledfo death he—
ore her eyes, she s not apt to wait long in the
rrying or relating; 0n came the in-

he bear, who stood
vgithk gleaming jaws snllenly awaiting the
s cc . '
The next minute. they came in caution. with

we of pa

 

 

18 The Settler’s Son.

 

a momentum as if both were under full speed,
and the lightning-like movements of the pan-

 

ther’s claws, the snap ing and snarling and,
growling. the biting, t e hugging of the bear, '

who quick] learned that he was hugging death
to his vita s, the leaves that were scattered as if

by a. whirlwind—all these betokened the desper- ,

ate character of the fight, and showed that it
could last but a brief time.

Herbert had risen to his feet with his rifle in
his hand. and forgetful of his own danger,
stood looking at the contestants, as they en~
gazed in their deadly struggle.

Such a contest, from its very nature, could
not last long. The bear, although possessing
prodigious strength, was too sluggish in his
movements effectually to contest with the cat-
lilre finiteness of the panther, and a few min-
utes only had elapsed, when the monster, rip-
ped, bleeding and in his last throes, rolled into
the creek, and still faintly struggling, rose and
sunk, dyeing the waters with his crimson life-
current, until in afew seconds he was dead.

The panther, as if conscious that his work
was finished, stood on the bank, glaring at the
dead body which was floating away from him,
while Herbert, at the termination of the con-
test. exclaimed aloud:

“You deserve praise for the manner in which
you vanquished your enemy, and you can go
without any disturbance from me. ” .

This was magnanimous upon the part of the
boy, but the panther did not seem to appreciate
it. ,When the youngster looked across the
creek, he saw that the brute had fixed his ter-
rible eyes upon him, and looked as if he was
pre aring to sprin . The extraordinary agility
of t e animal wou d have made it an easy mat-
ter-for him to leap the creek. and Herbert was
well aware that the intervening water was not
the slightest obstacle in his way.

Matters had assumed a new face, and placing
his rifle at his shoulder, the boy held it ready
for the first hostile demonstration of his enemy.
The brute evidently looked upon him in the
same light as he did the bear, and was not
pro are in any way to reciprocate the feelings
he ad awakened in the youngster, while the
~latter, understanding that a collision was in-
evitable, with as steady a nerve as he could
summon. was only waiting until he could make
sure of his film. He had one bullet at his dis~
posal, and if that went asiray, there was no
3:02: bility of his escaping a sudden and fearful

a

The panther had crouched upon his belly, his
claws Btlcklng the earth in that restless wny
seen w en a cat is about to spring, his tail slow-
ly waving from side to side, his ears lying flat,
his lips drawn lack so as to display those car-
nivorous, spear-like teeth, his ton no and gums
of the redness of blood, while bisfiright bee uti-
ful eyes were fixed upon the boy with steady
flerceness, which seemed to emit a phosphores-
cent tire, and which he more than once dreaded
would magnetize him by’their subtle power.

A low growl issued from the panther, and the
next moment. with a sudden lightning-like con-
traction of his muscles, he ascended in the air,
as if ently propelled by some irresistible
power. is limbs and body remaining as motion—

 

 

“less as if he were lying upon the ground. The
rifle of the boy followed the brute, as it describ-
ed its beautiful parabola as the un of he
sportsman frequent] follows the hit an instant
before firing, and w en directly over the center
of the creek, he pulled trigger.

A sort of shrieking growl was heard at the
same second, as the momentum of the animal,
carried it forward, while Herbert, feeling that
he had done all that was (possible, did not hesi«
tats to turn on his heel an run for life. A ter—
rific growling and rustling of the leaves, made
him believe that the panther was ursuing, and
was about to leap upon him; but so, the leap
was delayed, and when he had run several hun-
dred yards, and glanced over his shoulder, no-
thing was to be seen of the dreaded animal.
After awhile, he ventured to steal cautiously
back, when he found it lying dead on the edge
of the stream, where it had first struck when it
lea ed from the other side.

y this time, Herbert Bingham was convinced
that he had enjoyed quite a hunt, and one which
would justify him in returning home; but he
was resolved not to show himself to his parents
until nightfall. He saw by the position of the
sun that it was past noon, and, if he had not
possessed this infallible guide, he had an equally
infallible one in the ravenous hunger, which de-
manded speedy satisfaction.

In such a bountiful store-house of game, as a
western forest, there was no occasion for a bun-
ter undergoing the sensation of hunger for an
extended period, and the boy “ barked ” a coup e
of squirrels which were frolickin in a lnr 8
red ash. The feat is done b striking the bar ,
directly beneath the 5 nine in such a manner,
that the concussion kil s him without breaking
the skin. It is an exploit of which a veteran
hunter is proud, and it had reckuired no little
practice upon the part of our ero, before he
was able to perform it. The squirrels were
spitted over a fire kindled in the same manner
as the others, and it required but a comparative-
ly brief time to prepare himself a meal which
no epicure could have envied.

The afternoon was quite well advanced, when
Herbert concluded he would start homeward,
sauntering slowly along, so as not tore-sch there
too soon, and late enough to make his parents
rather anxious to Sta him. With this conclu-
sion came the alarming discovery that he did
not know which way to turn to reach home—-
that in his many turnings and ramblings, he
had lost his rickoning, and had no more idea of
the direction he should take in order toreach
home than if he had been blind. V

His heart sunk at this, but it would not do to
be discouraged, and he endeavored with all the
coolness ficssible to decide _upon the proper
course. 6 noted the situation of the sun—re—
membered in what direction it rose when viewed
from his door at home, and where he had seen
it go down so often beka the woods. The re-
sult of this computation was that it located his
house in almost precisely the ofipcsite point of
the compass from the one whic be imagined.
In fact, to use a common expression, he was
“ turned around.”

It was a hard matter to move in a direction
contrary to the one which he felt to be right.

 

 

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 ._.;;.m:_;_fi

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The Settler’s Son.

 

'13

 

but the boy liml sense enough to comprehend
that there was nothing more easy than to be
mistaken, and so he cow ludcd to go b the sun.
In this he did right, although such ieing the
case, it was by no means certain that he would
come out of the woods within a half dozen miles
of the clearing where stood the saw-mill.

There was no occasion now for loitering by the
way, and having located his house, he started
oil on a brisk walk toward it, only liOpin that
he would be able to get there by nightfa 1.. It
seemed to him that time never passed so rapidly;

mile after mile was trumped through the same ‘

everlasting woods, the dead leaves rustling be-
neath his feet, the wind sighing through the
tree-to s, the squirrels frolicking everywhere,
the calfof the Wild animals sometimes soundin
near, and sometimes far in the distance, an
still he saw no sight or landmarks which he
could recognize. .

It was with a sinking heart that he saw the
night settling over the wood, with the feeling
that he was lost. To spend his previous night
was rather a pleasure than otherwise, but it was
far different nowa;

“ If 1 must camp out again, there is no help
ing it,” was his reflection, as be halted beside a
large tree-trunk to make his preparations; but
he was not willing to give up yet, and he began
walking forward again. This he continued un-
til, in the thick darkness, he found' himself run-
ning against the limbs and trees, when be con-
cluded it time to halt.

As the night was quite warm, he preferred
ascending a. tree to building a. fire; and, select-
ing a large one, with gnarled limbs and 5 read-
ing branches, he climbed some twenty o d feet
from the ground, and established himself as
safely as ossible. After composing himself to
sleep, he ound that the disappointment of not
reaching home, and the anxiety as to what he
would be able to accomplish on the morrow,
had driven away both his appetite and all
drowsiness. As the best that could be done un-
der the Circumstances, he set him>elf to shout-
ing wrth all his might, and then listening for a.
response. His voice echoed dismal] y through
the woods, but no answer came back. '

Again and again he called, until, weary and
despairing, he ceased, when at this instant, from
directly beneath the tree, came the words:

“ Hello] up there! What’s the matter!”

The voice was grufl, and the words so unex-

' Bected that Herbert was almost startled from
in seat. He peered down among the limbs, but
the darkness was too great to see anything; but,
believing that it could be no enemy, he made
the somewhat trembling response:

“I am lost, and do not know which way to
turn to get borne.”

“ What is your name?”

“ Herbert Bingham.”

“ Do you live near the saw-mill!"

"Yes, sir; my father owns the mill.”

“ You are a bright youngster, I must say-
lost within a. half-mile of your own house! If
would advise your father to put you in a bend-
hox, for fear you might stra off and never be
found again. Come down ere, hub, and I’ll
take you home.”

Herbert descended. and learned that his

 

friend was a hunter, who had heard him calling
and who had not made any reply until assure
as to whether there was any danger in doing so.
When the boy had narrated his adventures, the
man’s surpmsa ceased that he should have lost
his way, and he complimented him quite lib-
erally upon the bravery he had shown.

_A elf-hour later, Herbert Bingham and his
friend entered the door of his home, where, as
may be supposed, his parents were glad enough
to see them. They listened to the recital .of
their son’s ex )erience, when they returned
thanks for the 'ndness of Providence, and all
retired to'rest. ..

CHAPTER VI.

STUDWINDLAN VISITORS—«THE YOUNG MIL-
LER—A BEAR IN A SAWvMILL.

UNDER the guidance of his mother, Herbert
Bingham progressed rapidly in his studies. Any
boy with the will to 0 forward cannot be kept
back by difficulty; 6 may be retarded, and
sometimes driven almost to the verge of dis-
couragement, but he will still advance until all
opposmon is overcome. Teachers are but one
o the means by which the pupils are helped
forward, and many of the first scholars of the
present age are those who never saw the inte-
rior of a school-house.

It needed but a word here and therH little
explanation—a. single suggestion, or the simple
“yes” or “no” to some inquiry, to keep the .
boy goin . His mind was active, and with the
occasions. assistance of a. pilot, it could not fail
to find its goal. Herbert spent the greater part
of the day in study, only taking care not to be-
come so abstracted as to forget his duty in the
saw-mill. A single minute of forgetfulness
might shatter the saw to pieces, and Mn» Bing-
ham had warned his son that if any such thing
happened, every book should be instantly taken
from him.

This penalty was too fearful for Herbert to
incur, and no matter how deeply absorbed in
his work, he did not fail to take note of every
inch which the saw advanced into the log and
so long as he was thus faithful in the atten ance
of his duty, no objections could be made to his
application to his studies. .

Occasionall , however, his mother took his
books from him, when, after having pared over
them all day, he still endeavored to study them
by the light of the fire on the hearth, or by the
me lmot blazing overhead; and, when the
ather thought his cheek was becoming pale, he
gave him a run through the woods with his ,
gun.

Mr. Bingham marked of! a_ tract of land
which he intended to claim as his own, and then
he set to work with all his strength to clear it.
The demands upon the mill being such as to
keep it continually going, he. turned it over to
the care of Herbert, only viSiting him at inter-
vals, to assure himself that he was not checked
by any task beyond his strength.

. Mr. Bin ham then succeeded in securing the
services 0 a man to help him. and, from morn

 

 

“: I The Settler’s Son.

 

till night, the ring of their axes could be heard.

It was too late in theseasou to put any crops in

the ground, and so everything was directed to-

ward getting ready for the next sprin .

The sleep of labor is sweet, and %oth Mr.
Bingham and his wife felt that the had now
experienced the pure enjoyment ofthus toiling
to make for themselves a new home. Quiet,
dreamless slumber was their blessing, and keen
appetite, rugged health, and the inevitable ac-
companiment, cheerful spirits, followed them
through the day.

V Herbert was not less happy. . His books were
a source of never-failing delight, and he had a
mother who was capable of directing him in his
studies. The only trouble was that sometimes
she wouldn’t let him read and study as much as
he wished, but his conscience and common sense
told him she was right about this, as she was
about everything else; and then it gave him so

. much keener zest when he took up his studies
again, that he could not regret the deprivation
he had undergone. ‘

Thus matters progressed until summer had
passed, and autumn had begun. Herbert was
at work continually in the mill, While his father
and the hired man, John, worked as unceasing-
ly in clearing the land. Everything was pro-
gressing favorably—snowing in their prospects
could have been im roved.

One day Herbert ad just started the saw into
the log, when shadows were thrown over the
trunk at which he was looking; and,'raising his
head he was not a little startled to observe three
Indians standing before him. His first impulse
was to call to his father for help,'but, as he saw
nothng very threatening in the appearance of
his visitors, be restrained hims:lf, and gave
them a friendly nod. ' ‘

At the same time he looked furtively across
the clearing for his father. The sound of his
ex and of the hired man's could be heard, and

' he knew precisely where they were; but they
were beyond sight, and if the Indians really
intended harm the had nothing to fear from
the settlers. The ouse was several hundred
yards. away, and be greatly preferred that his
mother should know nothing of What was going
on at the mill, as she could afford no assistance,
if it should be needed.

The Indians stood surveying the saw with no
attempt to conceal their amazement. They had
never seen anything like it, and seemed totally
unable, for the time, to comprehend its mean-
ing. Deemiug it best to treat them as friends,
Herbert walked around to where they stood,
and offered them his hand in friendly greeting.
It was taken rather reluctantly, and one of
them uttered an exclamation, and pointed to
the saw. ,

By this time it was near the end of the log,
and he motioned to them to take a seat upon
the “carriage.” One of them complied rather
gingerly. whereupon the boy reversed the ac-
tion; but, as it b gan sliding hack, the Indian,
with a half shriek of terror, sprun up, as
though he had seated himself upon red- ot iron.

Herbert now shut off the water entirely,
and when the saw, with its sharp triangular
teeth stood still, his visitors ventured to
approach and examine it more critically. They

 

placed their fin ers upon the iron, and seemed
to admire its g eaming smoothness, and then
they felt of-the teeth.

“ Ooghl much bitel” said one of them in
broken English. »

“ Yes, ” replied Herbert.

They then pee-red down into the lower part,
and the sight of the large hand wrapped around
the huge wheel. and running to the smaller one,

was a source of still greater surprise to them. _

They passed to and fro like so many children

out on a holiday, and asked all sorts of ques- '

tions; but as they were propounded in panto-
mime, and not in the least understood, it cannot
be supposed that they received very satisfactory
or lucid answers. .

Having adjusted everything, Herbert mo=
tioned to the most inquisitive visitor to place
his hand upon a certain handle and pull. The
latter did‘ so rather timidly, when instantly
there was a great rush of water, and the terri-
fled savage gazed about him as though he” had
sealed his own doom beyond all escape.

Herbert soon became on good 1erms with his
visitors. He showed themgvery part of the
wonderful saw-mill with as much pride and
pleasure as a good farmer displays his expectant
crops to the speculator. What their intentions
were when they approached him—whether to
gratify a simple curiosity, or whether they
intended evil—can never be known—but cer-
tain it is, that they departed without the least
indication of violence, and with every evidence
of good will.

The boy drewa long breath when they finally
disappeared in the woods, and he felt that
buoyanc of spirits which comes over one when
he has one a good deed and gained a. good

victory. He was satisfied that the Indians had .-

left him with friendly feelings, a difierent state
of the emotions, he ever believed, than were
those with which they came to him. .

The Indians did not go near the house, and it
was rather singular that neither Mr. Bingha'm
nor his servant reocived any intimation of their
visit until it came from the boy himself. The
father commended the action of his son, and
took particular care in locking his house that
evening. but for some time saw nothing more
of any aborigines.

So great was the demand upon the saw-mill,
that it was kept running from earliest morn
until dark, an frequently far into the night;
but there was a gloominess when it was dark
in remaining about the building. which made
this the exception rather than the rule. But
Herbert frequently carried his dinner to the
mill in a small basket, so that there was no in-
terruption on account of his noonday meal.

On one of these occasions his mother placed
in his basket the choicest art of a fat turkey,
which his father had shot 1; e day before in the
woods, and in order that he might fully. enjoy
it, Herbert concluded-to wait until past noon,
so as to be sure of a good appetite.

Meridian came and passed, and the boy took
up im arithmetic and soon became de’eply in-

terested in it, until sensible of a craving and

increasing hunger, when he laid it aside and
took down his basket from its perch. He‘ then
waited until just after the saw commenced the

‘ Him.

 

 

 

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M-.- M“ < . ..._~

.  1 Y-

I}... ..

The Settler's Son. 15

 

log, when he seated himself about midway on
it and attacked his dinner.

He carefully drew up (he breast of the turkey,
and was admirin ly contemplating it, when he
heard a singular gari'ing'nOise behind him, and
turning hishead, saw an enormous black bear
tumbling awkwardly toward him. There was

'mischief in his eye, and pausing only long

enough to identify him, the boy sprung of! the
log, and in a twinkling had scrambled up
among.7 the framework above. ,

The bear, came along ve leisurely, snuffiing
and looking around him, a most With a_s_much
curiosity as did the Indians upon their Visit. He
was not long in wearing the luscwus turkey
which-had been left lying upon the log beside
the open basket; and stepping upon the log, he
sat on his baunches, with is back toward the
saw and commenced leisurely devouring the
contents of the dinner basket.

Herbert Bingham watched him with curious
emotions. He was not forgetful of the fact that
he was not perched six feet above the head of
the bear, and when the latter had finished his
feast he would undoubtedly turn and take him
b way of dessert. The boy had no ready means
cg defense, and he beganto be seriously alarmed
for his own safety. “

As the best thing that could be done, under
the circumstances, he shouted at the top of his
v0ice; but he remembered that, having de-
ferred his dinner beyond the usual time, both
his father and hired man were beyond hearing.
As it was, he was barely able to make his voice
rise above the clash and clangor of the mill:
and he had some fear, too, that it would excite
the animal; and cause him to, turn his attention
to him. '

Anew fear now took possession of the boy.
In a. few moments, at the furthest, the saw
must reach the end of the log, and then what
would become of it? With no one to reverse
the motion, it must cut straight ahead until it
was shattered and ruined against the clamps of
iron with which be secured the logs in their
places. ‘

This thought troubled Herbert Bingham more
than anything else. He knew that his father
had another saw, but each was too valuable for
him to lose, except by the use to which it was
put; and he could not bear the thought that
this was doomed to be ruined.

But what could he do? It wasn’t probable
that the brute would retire, that he 'might de-
scend and save the property from rum, and he
had no means at hand to compel him to do so.
With a sinking heart he drew himself up, and
painfully watched the progress of events.

Oh, how he longed for his I], which he had
occasionally broughtto the mill with him. How

uickly he would terminate this distressing con—
gition of afl'airsl bat an easy matter it would
be for him to top 19 over the brute, as he sat in
all his ungainly ugeness upon the log, so de-
liberately devouring his dinner. .

Suddenly the question presented itself to Her-
bert—could he not stealthily descend, and as
stealtth shut 011' the flaw of water, and clam-
ber buck to his perch before the brute could'be-‘
come aware of what he was domgl Thus far
the animal treated him with the utmost indif-

 

ference, not even glancing upward to assure
himself as to his exact locality. If he could
only extend this indifference a littlefurther,
the boy was confident the thing could be done.

The youngster was on the point of descend-
ing, when he hesitated, and a smile spread over
his face. The bear, having eaten the better

art of the dinner, was now snuffing and claw-
ing at Daboll’s arithmetic (that venerable and,
fortunately for us, completely decayed treatise
on numbers), as though disposed to investigate
its contents.

“ If you can digest those two or three exam-
ples I have been studying over,” muttered Her-
bertto himself, “you will do more than any
bear that I ever heard of.”

After he had gotten the book exactly in bout
of him, bruin clawed at it until it opened. and
then, little dreaming of the pangs he inflicted
on a certain young gentleman a. few feet over
his head, he clawed a couple of leaves from it.
They stuck to his paws a. moment, and, in con-
siderable terror, the brute shook them off.

“Mygraciousl don't tear the leaves out of
the back part!” called Herbert, in his frantic
forgettulness, terrified at the thought that he
was on the point of losing one of his most val-
ued books. '

Fortunately, at this juncture, the in ‘ured
book,with the mangled leaves, dropped 0 the
log, and the brute bestowed no further notice
upon it. v

Again the question came back ro our young
hero: could he not steal down, cautiously shut
off the water, and then get back to his perch
before his enemy suspected what he was doing?
Several times, indeed, he more than half be-
lieved that he was not aware he was in the mill,
judging from his actions since entering the
building. ' ,

The attempt which Herbert Bingham was
meditating was so dangerous that he deter-
mined upon another eflort, as oflerin less peril
to himself. He could descend until directl
over the lever connected with the water—whee
when he could reach down with his foot and
shut down the gate.

As time was becoming precious, he acted
upon the conclusion without further delay. As
the bear sat, his side was turned toward the
hand-lo which Herbert was so anxious lac-reach,
and the chances seemed equally divided as to
whether he would be discovered at the attempt
or not. At present he was abmrbed in, or more
properly, was absorbing into his massive 'aws
another piece of the tender turkey, so care ully
cooked by the affectionate mother at home.

Herbert crept carefull along the framework
until he had reached t e proper spot, all the
time glancm at the brute, which as yet was
entirely ind' erent as to what was going on
around him. The clangor created by the saw
was an advantage, in that it drowned whatever
noise: might accidentally be made in his move-
men s. .'

The boy once more looked shaiéply at the
bear, and thinking everything looks favorable,
he cautiously reached his foot down until it
rested upon the upright level. Theu‘he made a
sudden push with it, came near losin his bal-
ance. andfound that he could not star it. It

 

 

id The Settler’s Son.

 

took quiteavlgorous eflort to remove the heavy
gates, and he labored at too great disadvantage
his eflorts to do so.
Unwilling to give up a task which appeared
so unobjec ionable to his enemfiefierbert pre-
red to repeat the attempt. aching care—
ully down with his foot, he made another des-
perate push but it could avail nothing, and he
was compelled reluctantly to give over the at-

ter‘n‘pt. _

bile the boy sat debatin with himself
whether to descend and grasp t e handle with
both hands, and trust to his own nimbleness to
escape, the affair took upon it an entirely new
and unexpected character. But a few minutes
had elapsed since the first alarm, although the
time seemed far longer to him who was most
concerned.

The' bear sat with his back toward the saw,
which all this time was advancing upon him.
All at once it nipfed his tail, and with an angry
growl, he hitche alon . The saw did the same,
and scarce a minute e apsed when it gave him
another twitch. More enraged than ever, bruin
threw his head round and gave a threatening
growl, as if to warn the audacious intruder that
no further liberties would be permitted, while
at the same time he took a position with his side
' turned toward it, his immense body pulsating
like so much jelly, with each pelt of the log. ‘

Steadily as ever the saw advanced, until at
the proper second it gave a sharp scratch in his
' haunch, followed immediately by a severerone.
Thoroughly infuriated, the bear now whirled
around, and throwing his paws about the saw,
began a fierce contest with it, b1ting,clawmg
and tearing at the iron which was more effect-
ually doing the same for him, until his blood
streamed over the log, and he was wounded
night unto death.

 

CHAPTER VII.

END OF m FIGHT BETWEEN THE BEAR AND
THE SAW—IMMIGRATION—A HUNT IN THE
WOODS—A HUNTER TREED BY A. BEAR—
TIMELY ARRIVAL 0F HERBERT—A NEW
mmxn.

Tn! bear grappled and struggled with the
saw, which was tearing its way into his Vitals,
as if it were an animal of the woods with which
he was engaged. There can be but little doubt
as tothe on of this sin ar combat, had not
, the sharp crack of a ' e sounded above the
clamor of growls and crunching saw, and the
bear Rippled off the log an inanimate body,
while r. Bingham sprung forward and shut
off the flow 0 water before any material in-
jury was done his saw.

‘ Before you take a partner in the business, I
would suggest that you consult me,” he laughed,
as his son clambered down from hisfilerch.

“I shall surely do so,” replied erbert, “ if
he comes in that style.”

Perseverance brings its reward. That which
at first sight seems impossible gives way to un-
remitting eflort; continual dropping wears
away stones, and the tiny stream of water
trickling through the bank, opens the channel
for the mighty river. So it is with the mind;

 

it gathers strength from repeated etiorts Until
it accomplishes wonders. Herbert Bingham
found himself progressing steadily, and, as he
progressed, his mind expanded and reached
after other truths.

Summer, autumn, and winter passed, and
emigration flowed westward with an ever-in-
creasing current. Flat—boats were continually
descending the Ohio, and the emigrants some-
times came through the woods from other di-
rections, some - following the celebrated
“ Boone’s Trace,” while a few seemed to aim to
“ cut across,” oblivious of the double difliculties
thus encountered. ’

In the six months succeeding the first visit of
Mr. Bingham to Riverton, the place increased
over one-third of its size. That was a mem-
orable year in the history of emigration to the
West; and when ring came a half dozen
cabins were rising Within sight of the saw-mill,
and the miller began to suspect that when be
located here, he laid the foundation of a town,
whose vigorous infancy had already begun.

This was a belief as pleasant to his family as
to himself. There was a sense of security sur-
rounded by his own people which he had not
felt until now; and the society of friends was

leasant and gratefulto his wife who had so
ong been deprived of them. Herbert also
found com ‘ nions, but for that matter, none of
them coul equal the companionship of his
books althou h he did ergoy an occasional
ramble throug the woods With them.

We need hardly say that thesaw—mill enjoyed
no rest, except t at which was forced upon it
in the filing of its teeth, and, now and then, the
doctoring of some of its organs which had been
racked rather severely. Then, too, its existence
was more than once seriouslylimperiled. 1n
the spirit: came a freshet, so violent that nei-
ther t e uice~gate nor that of the mill could
aflord an adequate escape. The result was that
a. portion of the dam was carried away, which,
though a seeming calamity in itself, was the
salvation of the mill.

Precisely the same thing occurred amonth
later, when, with the assistance of his friends
be constructed an escape gate amp] suflicient
for anye pressure of water to whic the bank
could sub ected. The capacity of the mill
was not su cient tosupply the wants of the
settlers, and many of them created log houses,
contenting themselves with the prospect of se-
curing lumber for more prepossessing dwel-
lings at some future time.

Riverton being only three miles up the river,
there was constant communication between the
two laces. A path was formed through the
w s, and no walk could be more deh htful
than this on a fair spring morning, or urin
the sultry summer weather. There was a coo -
ness beneath the impenetrable shadow of the
trees—an exuberance of vegetation that made
it grateful to the wearied, languid body. And
there was the occasional sight of the timid deer,
or the fierce wild animal, or perhaps, the
American Indian in his gaudy, fantastical
dress, which gave a wild beauty to the scene,
and made it one belonging peculiarly to our
own conn .

One day n the autumn of the year succeed.
in: that in which the saw-mill was erected.

in

_ ‘ ngnampflew“ \ ‘

The Settler‘s Son. 17

 

Herbert concluded to take a ramble in the
woods with his gun, leaving the mill in charge
of the hired man, who. having toiled so long
and faithfully with Mr. Bingham. had gained a
little recreation in this wa . The Binghams
had neverowned a dog, and erbert went forth
entirely alone.

The air was crisp and clear, and there was an
elasticity about his youth and healthful frame
which made this hunt the keenest enjoyment,
and he knew there was plenty of game in the
woods to keep him busy if he chose to spend a.
month there. So he told his mother not to ex-
pect him back until nightfall, and, shoulderm

is gun he bade them a cheerful good—by, an
plunged into the forest. _

’Wlth no particular object in View, Herbert
took a direction toward Riverton, snuntering
aimlessly forward, ready for any game that of-
fered, but not particularly disposed to turn out
of his path to seek it. When about halfway to
the settlement, he turned to the left, and wan-
dered up the banks of a small stream which
crosmd the path. Numbers of birds darted up
before, and sped out of sight with a whirring
noise while the rabbits and squirrels were con-
stant y in sight; but the hunter was in quest
of nobler game, and he scarcely noticed these.

. Fully one half of the forenoon had passed, and
still there was nothing seen of the deer, when
he finally paused on the edge of the stream.
Kneelin down, he slaked his thirst with the
ic col water, and then began to consider
whether it was best to ascend the brook any
higher, Or change his direction. He was thus
occupied, when he observed that the brook had
suddenly become soiled and ruddy. while at the
same time a plashing reached is ears, as if
made by some creature dabbling in it.

“There must be something to do that,” was
his conclusion, “and I’ve no doubt I’ll et the
get I’ve been looking for evor since start-

Saying which, he arose and began cautiously
ascending the stream, but had scarcely taken a,
dozen ste when the near report of a rifle
reached his ears, followed by a furious rushing,
as though something was tearing through the
brush and undergrowth at the top of its speed.
While he was still wondering what it could
mean, a terrified voice reached his ear.

“ Help! help! quick! quickl or I am lost!”

Herbert dashed straight toward the point
from whence came the cry for help, and whose
sudden cessation, he feared, meant that help
was already too late. But hurrying forward a
few hundred yards, he quickly discovered an
explanation o the clamor which had reached
his can so startlingly. A fleshy man, who evi-
dently had little experience in hunting, judging
from his dress and actions, had fired his gun at
a large bear, which he had only wounded
whereupon the brute had turned upon him, an
fibrowing away his gun, he had run for dear

fe.
Like many persons, when panicstricken, the
frightened man did the very thing he ought to
have avoided. Instead of springing up a. sa .
linlg,land climbing beyond reach, he caug t
he d of the limb of an enormous oak, and en-
sconced himself among the branches. He had

 

scarcely done so, however, when, to‘ his horror,
he saw the bear climbing after him. It was at
this juncture that he uttered those iercing
cries for help which caught the ear of erbert
Bin ham.

hen the latter reached the tree, the fleshy
hunter was on the topmost limb, ready to spring
to the ground when his pursuer came too near.
The limb was already swaying with its unusual
weight, and it was more than probable that
when the bear placed his paws upon it, the
whole thing, including man and brute, would
come tumbling to the ground.

In this critical state of aifairs, the hunter
caught sight of the boy below him, and called
out:—

“Will you do me the favor, my friend, to
knock this unmannerly brute off the limb? He
is coming uncomfortably close.”

“I will do it,” replied Herbert, “ but I must
make my aim sure, for I have no time to re
load."

Herbert waited until certain of his aim, and
then sighting at the point directly behind his
fore-leg, pulled the trigger. The colossal brute
instantly tumbled from the branch, with a ter-
rific growling and claw' g of the leaves, and
striking the earth heavily, expired with a. few
convulsive struggles. ' -

The moment the bear fell, the man came hur-
rying down the tree, his clothes suflering con-
mderably during the process. Dropping upon
the ground, he caught the hand of the boy, and
wrung it very cordially. _

“ Boy, you have been the means of saving mv
lifel” he exclaimed, his heart overflowing wit
gratitude.

“Next time you are chased by a bear," re-
turned Herbert, somewhat embarrassed, “ climb
a small tree instead of a large one.”

“ And why so?”

“ Because a. bear can’t climb a small tree, and
he can a large one. If you had one up a sa
ling instead of the one you di , you we d
never have been placed in such danger.” -

“ But my thankfulness to you remains the
same; Let me inquire our name."

“ Herbert Bingham; live near the saw-mill,
which, if you listen carefully, you may hear
running this minute."

“ I have heard of you! I have heard of you I"
said the stranger, quite hastily, as he busied
himself in brushing and putting to rights—so
far as was possible—his dilapidated clothes.
“I have heard of you, I say, and it has been a
good repert. I am right glad to make your v
acquaintance. But I threw my gun away when
the bear took after me; suppose we go back and
look for it. I confess it don t look as though a
gun was of much use to me, but nevertheless, I
can hardly afford to lose it.”

They walked along toward the rifle, which
could be seen gleaming among the leaves, the
stranger talking very freely. ‘ ’

“ I suppose you do not know me!"

"I do not remember that I have ever seen
you," replied Herbert, certain that they had
never met before.

“I am John R. Brandon, and moved into
Riverton only last week. I started out May
to take a. look at the country. and I have car-

 

 

tuiul gained quite a vivid idea of its inhabit.

ants, ’ remnrked Mr. Brandon, with a laugh.

“ Won’t you accompany me home?”

“I thank you; I um hardly in a presentable
condition; but I shall take the earliest occasion
to call upon you. Depend upon it, I shall never
forget the service you have done me.’

“ I am sure I have done nothing more than I
would have done for another person, and no
more than you would hsVe done for me under
such circumstances.”

“ That is if 1 could have aimed well enough.—
but you talk to me like a boy who has received
quite an education.” ' '

“I cannot say as to that; I have studied a
good deal, but the most that I can learn, it
seems to me, doesn’t amount to anything. ”

“ A good sign—a good sign; deliver. me from
those youngsters who imagine themselves smart
and educated, when they haven’t et learned
enough to comprehend that they 'now noth-
ing. ‘ V

Herbert was at a losswhat to say; his com-
panion was so communicative, and talked with
such fluenc that he hardly knew h0w to reply

' to him. T are was a certain frankness about
him which pleased the boy, and Mr. Brandon
succeeded finally in “drawing out” his young
friend. The letter told him what books he
studied, which were his favorites, and how
much he lon ed for the opportunity of acquir-
ing; ood e neution.

. r. randon listened with great interest to
Wililflél he (mid, and when he had finished, he re-
p e : '

“ Well, Herbert, you will find me plain spoken,
Barneys you me sometimes think me quite

lunt; but what say and do shall be for your
own good. I will remark that, aside from the

inestimable service you have rendered me, I

i like your appearance and manner.”

Herbert thanked him for his good opinion,
and expressed the'hope that he might alwn s
merit it. Mr. Brendon had picked u his ride,
and they now walked slowly down t 9 bed of

' r the stream until they reached the main path,

where they paused for a. fewparting words.

“ I am a lawyer from the cityof Philadelphia.
where I have practiced for a dozen years. I
have come to Riverton with the intention of
settling there. I have no family or friends
with me. I would like to have you enter my
office, and take up the study of law with me.
It shall cost, you nothing; it will be a. pleasure
tor’ine to direct you; come and see me; good-

Mr. Brandon turned on his heel, and walked
toward River-ton, while Herbert Bingham saun—
tered homeward, his mind filled with thoughts
of the new project which his strangely-formed
friend had given him.

He walked along the path mechanically, not
noticing his footsteps, and lost in delightful
reverie, until he was brought to a stand-still by
an angry rowl; and, raising his head, he saw
thati he ad advanced a dozen steps further
the appalling danger that confronted him would
have been fatal] '

    

The settles“: Son.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE WILD—CAT—A CALL UPON HIS NEW FRIEND-—
A NEW PROJECT—AN APPALLING DANGER TO
THE SETTLEMENT.

THAT peril in Herbert Bingham’s path was in
the sha of awild-cat. It stood, or rather,
was we] ing slowly toward him, its eyes glow-
ing, its fang-dike teeth displayed, spitting,
growling, with its fur erect, and an a pearance
of the most furious rage.
explained by the presence ofa couple of kittens—-
if the expression be allowable—frolicking be-
hind it. he maternal instinct led it thus to
meet, half-way, the danger which threatened
its oung.

erbert could have shot it, but in ity for the
offspring, he resolved not to harn- t e mother,
unless compelled to do so in self-defense. Ac-
cordingly, he began walking backward. keep~
ing his eye fixed upon the wild-cat, and the
hammer of his rifle raised,.so as to be ready for
any demonstration upon the part of the brute.
The latter followed him some distance, until the
fear of deserting its young checked it, when it
paused, and still snarling and growling, glared
at him until a curve in V . he path hid him from
sight. Herbert then made a circuit, and came
into the path at a point so far beyond his new
acquaintances that there was no danger of in-
terruption from them. I

The singular meeting between Mr. Brandon
and Herbert Bingham was one of those occur-
rences which mark an era in human life. As
he made his way homeward, he could not but
reflect upon his parting words, and they gave
him such a plea sure as he had never experienced.
It seemed as if Providence was leading him on-
ward and upward.

When he reached home, and all were gathers
ed around the table in the evening. he related
his adventure of the day, expressing a. wish
that he might call upon his new friend on the
morrow; but Mrs. Bingham, with her usual
good sense, advised him to wait until he could
frame some suitable excuse for going to River.-
ton, as she deemed it wise: at the beginning of
their friendship that he should not presume too
much upon it.

Two days wore slowly away and then Mrs.
Bingham made an errand for her son, and sent
him to River-ton, with a suggestion to make his
call upon Mr. Brandon quite brief. as that gen-
tleman doubtless had other matters claiming
his attention. Herbert saw the wisdom of
what his mother said, and promised oomph-
ance. V

When he entered Riverton, he was struck
more forcibly than ever before with the rapid

rowth 'and the future prOspects of the place.
§‘he immigration, which had remained in a state
of comparative stagnation for a number of

cars, had within the present year taken a new
impetus, and Riverton could not fail soon to
reach thedimensions of a. town, and eventually
or a good-sized city. ‘

As Herbert walked down the main street,
looking from side to side for the residence of
Mr. Brandon, almost the first object that met
his eye was aneally-painted sign of the law

 

This con ition was.

 
 

  

I v

A

  
 

 
   

The Settler’s Son. [9

 

tfline of his friend. As he ste ped upon the
rude orch, his heart throbbe , and with a
tremb g hand he knocked at the partly open
door. ~

It was promptly opened by Mr. Brandon him-
self, who grasped the hand of his visitor, and
made him so cordially welcome that he felt at
case at once. A great surprise awaited Herbert
as he entered the lawyer’s office, for on one side
of the room stood a broad high book-case, every
shelf of which was filled with good. portly
volumes, handsomely bound.« He had never
seen such a collection of works, and when he
looked at his host it was with the certainty
that he must be one of the happiest men 11v

in . . -
fioth being seated, Mr. Brandon asked regard-
ing his friends‘and himself—some of his ques-

tions being rather pointed and direct—after

which he inquired as to the studies which he
had been pursuing, and the books which he
had read during the last year. Having learned
this, the lawyer then tested his knowledge of
each subject, by a number of general quesiions,
sufficient to indicate whether he had bestowed
much thought upon them. From the searching
character of these ueries, Herbert saw that
his man was thoroug ly conversant with every—
thing which he had read himself, and ‘he was
inspired with a deeper sense than ever of his
profound attainments.

Having satisfied himself on these points, Mr.
Brandon took a different tack.

“ Undoubtedly your mind is inclined to
study,” he observed, “and you only need directn
ing, and occasionally a little assistance. My
friend, you have the greatest blessing a boy
can have.”

“What is that?” inquired Herbert, as his
host made a slight pause. ' ~

“ A noble mother; she has instilled into your
mind the best precepts and the purest maxims
which cangOVern one’s life. She has laid 'the
foundation of a good, sound education, and,
with your permission, I shall begin to build
upon that foundation.”

Herbert smiled, and waited for him to make
his meaning clear.

. “ You are cut out for a lawyer, to use a com-
mon expression, and, with the consent of your
parents, you must consider yourself from this
iime forth as under my special charge. You are
at, perhaps, too young to begin the study of
aw proper. but you can begin a course of pre-
paratory reading.”

Mr. Brandon arose, and took down a volume
from his book-case.

“ Here is a work which may, perhaps, inter-
estyou not.quite so much as some that. you
have béen reading, but. nevertheless, it is im-.

rtant that you should read and digest it.

lease look at it. and tell me how many pages
you can read a day.” ,

Herbert turned the leaves ovar a. few mo-
ments, saw that it was a historical work, and
then answered:

“I think I can read twenty of thosevpages
very well.” " .

“ I don’t want you to decay such thing; you.
have mentioned 'ust four times as much as you
oughttoread. hatis the fault of childhood.

 

 

that is too often content to skim over the sur-
_faoe of things. I want you to read five parts
in the forenoon, and spend the rest of the day
and evening in thinking about it, endeavoring
to recall every oint that has been touched
upon. The next ay read five pages more, and
do the same. 011 the third day read over these
ten pages, and come to me in the afternoon and
we Will spend an hour or two in talking about
them.”

“You do not mean that I shall come-twice
every week to see on?” '

“That is precise y what I moan."

“For how long a time?”

“About two years; when, if nothing occurs
to prevent it, you will be quite well prepared
to take up the study of law.’. I

u But. _a1

“ Well, what is it?”

Herbert wished to express his gratitude, but
did not know how to do so. His‘ friend saved
him the trouble. I

“ I suppose you wish to say you are thankful:
well, you ought to feel so, though not so deeply
as I did when you hit that hear so neatly. You
see, you are yet young enough, and I wish to
lead you through a course of training. You
are not yet prepared to take up the study qt
lay, but, as I remarked, byacouple of years, 1
think you can be ready.” ' ‘

“ I hope I shall prove able.”

“That depends upon yourself. There is no
excellence without great labor, is my favorite
maxim. Lawyers are a sort of necessary evil
in the community," laughed Mr. Brandon, “ and
we must do what we can to make them as bear-
able as possible.”

Herbert could but consent to the truth of. this
rem ark. ‘ - r

“ Let me say to you, my friend, that there is
a glorious future efore you; on can see how
the West is growing; you shou (1 identify your-
self with this territory. grow up with it. and let
its interests be your own, and you will find that 1
your, country will not be ungrateful. Provi-
dence has placed you in the field, He has given
you the ability, and it now rests with you to ‘

. improve these opportunities. It you fail, re-

member you rai through your own remiss-
BESS.

“I can say that if it depends upon that, I
shall succeed.”

“I hone so—I hope so; it is easy to form a
good resolution; it is another thing to carr it
out. It is a peculiarity of childhood that it is
impulsive, and that scarce a day passes over a.
boy’s head which does not witness a new reso-
lution, and the breaking of an old one.”

“ 1 don’t think it will'bo so with me.” .-

“Itrust not; when you take up a work to
read or study, you must concentrate your mind
await—don’t wander off into day-dreams and
nnaglmngs of what you are going to do when
you reach man’s estate; work, WORK, WORK,
that is what you have to do.” '

“I have always been taught that.”

“One of. our most brilliant men in Congress,
last summer told me that he had gained his
success in his profession most from a habit
which he had formed quite young. He never ‘
started out upon a walk or ramble without first

  

 

20 The Settler's Son.

 

deciding in his mind what he should think u n
while thus engaged. Having decided upon t is,
he concentrated all his mental energies upon
that one subject, .to the exclusion of everything
else. I believe there is a good deal in that; and
let me commend the habit to you. You will
find it will eventually improve the mind, and
make you ready and,keen upon any subject
that is brought to your attention.”

The hour had whiled away so rapidly that
Herbert started up with the thought that he
had overstaid the proper time, and he made an
apology for doing so.

“ Never mind,’ said Mr. Brandon, “ today is
Wednesday; come again to me on Saturday, and
we will discuss the first ten pages of the work
I have given you. Remember and follow my
directions to the letter. I have some labor that
claims my attention, and I will therefore bid
you good-afternoon." '

As Herbert Bingham passed out of Mr. Bran‘
don’s oifice, he was so deeply in meditation
that, fora time, he did not notice an unusual
excitement in the little settlement; but it was
so at, and was spreading so rapidly, that it
can d not fail to attract his attention. He saw
Colonel Rinigold run hurriedly to the block-
house, and t 9 next moment an acquaintance
Iiiddenl dashed up to him. ’

“ Hal 0, Herbert! how long ago did you leave
home?”

“ Several hours.”

“Then you haven’t heard the news.”

“No; what is it?"

“A thousand Shawanees and Miamis have
crossed over from Kentucky to attack the
placel”

Herbert’s heart seemed to stop beating at this
appalling intelligence, and, choking down his
emotions as much as possible, he inquired for a
few particulars: but his informer was in a

eat hurry, and turned off to make sure that
file own family was safe.

The boy ran hither and thither, and finally
succeeded in checkinga man who knew some
thing about the matter, long enough to gain
some idea of the danger. A hunter had come
in about hal‘ an hour previous, and reported
that he saw a. large number of Indians crossing
from Kentucky in their canoes.

He watched them long enough to see to what '

tribes they belonged, and to understand that
they were in their war-paint, and that they
were moving with all dispatch against the saw—
mill—as the collection of houses down the river
was popularly known. Observing that they

were a numerous and powerful party, this hun— _
ter had made all haste to Riverton to warn:

Colonel Ringgold of his peril

The latter, with a sort of grim pleasure at
this proof of his wisdom in keeping the block-
house in continual preparation, ordered the wo-
men and children to take refuge in the building,
while the men armed themselves, and made
everything ready‘ for the expected assault.
This done, he sent out a number of men to kee
him posted regarding the movements of his
enemies.

Herbert was in distressing perplexity as to
whether he should remain in Riverton or hurry
home. Prudence told him to do the former.

 

but he could not bear the thought of being
away from his home when his people were in
danger. He had failed to brin his gun with
him for the first time since he ad ever come
away from home, and now when he tried to
borrow one, found it impossible. Every person
ex )ected to have use for his own weapon.

olonel Ringgold, fearing that his neighbors
down the river were in rest danger, selected
twenty of his most relia le men, and placing
them under a good leader, sent them off to
render what assistance lay in their wer. As
the best that could be done, Her ert joined
these, though several warned him of the danger
of doing so.

Plunging into the woods, the compan made
all haste toward their beleaguered frien 5, their
footsteps materially quickened by the fact that
they could new hear the cracking of rifles and
those dreadful whoops and yells to which the
American Indian gives vent when attacking an
enemy. ~

CHAPTER IX.
THE INDIAN A’l’l‘ACK AND REPULSE—ME. BRAN-
nox’s Visrr — nannmar’s rnorrssmx

CHOSEN—PROGRESS—HUGE STRAKLE.

As the party reached the vicinity of the
settlement. they proceeded with great caution.
The reports of rides for a time were quite fierce
and rapid, and then they ceased almost as sud-
denly as they began, with the exception of now
and then a random one. Several of the more
daring hunters hurried forward into the clear-
ing, but were gone but a few minutes when they
rushed back, pale with excitement.

“ The Indians have set fire to the mill, and
are retreating!"

The entire company now dashed forward at
the top of their speed. As they reached the
clearing they were compelled to run through a
cornfield before they could gain a view of the
buildings, when the first sight that met their
eyes was the flames bursting through the upper
part of the saw-mill.

“Quick! a lot of you bring water, while we

've ’em a parting shot i” commanded the

eader, hurrying toward the river, where Ia
number of Indians could be seen embarking in
their canoes. '

Herbert deeming the salvation of the mill of
more importance than that of revenging them-
selves upon their aggressors. headed the few
who proceeded to dip water from the ond and
dash it upon the b sting boards. t was an
extremely difficult task to subdue the flames, as
the planks upon the roof had become seasoned,
and burned with at flerceness, although the
lower part of the uilding was quite green, and
was much less combustible.

As the rest of the party reached the river,
they found the last canoe shoving ofl. The In-
dians perceiving them, believed they were the
advance of large reinforcements, and made all
haste to get beymd their reach; but the pur—
suers, uttering yells as terrible as those of the
red-men, fired as fast as they could reload and
aim. and here and there the answering outcry

1?” "  r ,

A an;

 

tme we. (r _ ,,

The Settler’s Son.  21

 

 

 

and the spasmodic throwing up of the arms, and
in one or two cases the springing overboard of
the aggressors, showed that many of these shots
were taking fatal effect. -

The attack. the contest and retreat was one of
those sudden things for which the Indians be
came so famous during the border wars. In a
few moments after the arrival of our friends
they had reached the Kentucky shore, plunged
into the woods and were seen no more. _

Then the settlers, besieged for the short time,

came forth and greeted their friends. .It was
found on examination that three of their num-
ber were missing, they not having had time to
reach shelt: r before the savages were upon
them. One of these made his appearance short-
ly after the departure of their enemies, with the
sad announcement that his two companions had
been carried away. As they were never seen
afterward, there can be little doubt of their
fate.
The approach of the Shawnees and the Mi-
amis ha been accidentally discovered before
they reached the Ohio bank, and the people at
once rushed into their houses, and secured the
doors and windows for defense. The time was
so short that they barely had time to do this when
their dusky foes landed, and began a fierce
attack. They divided into two parties, one of
which made a rush at Mr. Bingham’s house, but
were unable to force the door in“ ard, while the
other part were defeated in like manner in
their assau t upon another building.

Thi y fired at the windows and openings, and
many narrow escapes occurred. The thousand
.‘ndians of the frightened settler who gave Her-
bert the information, rovcd to consist of some-
thing less than a bun red. Had they dared to
remain the entire day on the Ohio river and
prosecute the assault, there can be but little
doubt of their final success, but, fearful of mo-
lestation from above the river, they staid less
than an hour, and, short as was that time, it
has been seen that it served for Colonel Ring-
gold’s men to give them a taste of their temper
before they got away.

As may well be supposed, Mr. Bingham and
his wife were greatly concerned for the safety
of Herbert, fearing that he would return and
not discover his peril until too late for him to
escape. Great, therefore. was the gratitude of
all when they were reunited, unharmed.

As this fora of the Shuwaneesand the Miamis

was a most agrant violation of their treaty,
steps were taken to discover and punish the
marauders; but, as usual in such cases, itresult—
ed in nothing, except in an extraordinary vigi-
lance among the settlers along the Ohio for along
timevafterward.
. The mill, and such of the houses as had been
lDJul’Ed, were soon repaired, and the place took
11 on itself its usual look. Labor was resumed,
a though, as has just been remarked, the people
were unusually careful. There was not a
huildin which did not bear the marks of the
Indian ullets. and thess were often pointed out
long years afterward, as mementoes of the last
and only incursion the place ever suifered from
the red-men. I

Despite the distracting Circumstances siir.
rounding him, Herbert Binzham found the time

 

to follow out the instructions of Mr. Brandon;
and, when he visited his office on Saturday, and
gave him a succinct account of the visit of the
Indians, the latter, after complimenting his
coolness, said:

“ I presume you have hardly been in a condi-
tion for study.”

" I have done what I could.”

“ Well, I shall soon see.”

Thelawyer took the book in his hand, and
ran his eye over the pages a few minutes to
assure himself regarding their contents. He
then closed it, laid it down, and began a series
of questions upon it, which seemed to Herbert
to comprehend the pith of every paragraph in
the book. He answered him very well, but not
nearly as well as he was certain of doing when
he had entered his oflice.

“ A pretty good recitation,” commented Mr.
Brandon, “pretty good, considering the disad-
vantages under which you labored, but there
is room for improvement, which I am sure you
will make. Be thorough,”

Herbert was disappointed. He had been

sitive that he understood his lesson perfectly,
ggt the rigid examination of his instructor had
proved to him. as it seemed, that he knew
nothing at all about it, and he was considerably
mortified over the fact. A little judicious
praise, however, from Mr. Brandon, made him
feel more at ease, and he resolved to make
amends in the future.

The next lesson was indeed an im rovement.
Herbert made himself so perfect y familiar
with it that he could not be taken at fault, and
Mr. Brandon was compelled to admit that it
could not have been better.

“Now, , the next question,” said he. “is
whether you are going to keep what on have

ot in our head. It is there now, but how
on wi 1 it remain? Many a youngster known
per ectly his lesson today, but to-morrow re-
members about half of it, and the next day has
forgotten it entirely. I can’t say whether this
is to be "the case with you or not.”

" How am I to prevent it?" inquired Herbert.

“Easily enough; when tomorrow comes,
don’t dismiss the work of today froin your
mind. How is it you know how to run your
saw mill'! Because you have tried, and tried,
and practiced, until you can’t help understand-
ing tue process. It is the same way with your
mind. Recall to-day what you learned yester-
day, do the same to—morrow, then again in a
few days, and then again in a. week or so. In
this way'it will finally become so imbedded in
you r brain that it cannot be removed.”

~‘ I never have thought of such a process."

“ It is the_true one; the common practice of
learning a thing and then forgetting it, is Very
hurtful and weakening to the memory. Un-
conscmusly to yourself, you have strengthened
your memory. Your range of studies being
united, you have been com lied to go over
them again and again, unt' they have been
tolerany well learned.”

Mr. Brandon was rather chary of his praise,
but he doubtless deemed it best to be so. He
evidently was no believer in the habit of con—
stantly com limeiiting smart children, which
so frequent injures them irreparably. al-

 

 

22 ‘ The Settler’s Son.

 

though he did not hesitate to throw in a judi-
cious word now and then by way of encourage-
ment.

A few days after, Mr. Brandon took occasion
to wander down to the saw—mill with his gun,
and to make a call upon Mr. Bingham's family.
The latter cordially received him, and he ac-
cepted an invitation to dinner, after which it
was agreed that he and Herbert should spend
the afternoon in hunting. *

The intervening time was passed with Mr.
Bingham himself, the two wandering around
the settlement, while the precise manner of the
Indian attack was explained, and the progress
of the settlement carefully noted. Mr. Bran-
don was particularly interested in the saw-
mill, which he examined in every part and pro—
nounced to be admirabl y constructed.

“ You see, I owned one of these,” he laughed,
as he emerged from the lower part. “It was
built along the Susquehanna, and the better
part of my boyhood was spent in running it, so

think I ought to be able to judge."

Mr. Bingham admitted his qualifications in
this refipect, after which the conversation turned
upon erbert. The lawyer stated that he was
5. ve talented and promising boy, and it was
his Wish to have charge of his education. The
father replied that they were truly grateful for
his kindness to their child, and he and his wife
had decided to place him entirely under his
direction. Mr. Brandon said that was all he
wanted, and struightway changed the conversa-
tion to some other subject.

In the afternoon, as agreed upon, the lawyer
and his pupil shouldered their guns and wan-
dered away in the woods. They spent the re-

» mainder of the day pleasantly, and when they
returned toward evening, were loaded wit
game. Mr. Brandon had not the time to re-
main to tea, as he wished to pass through the
intervening woods before there was danger of
losing his path in the darkness. Accordingly.
he is t them with the promise to repeat his call
as often as he could conveniently do so.

He kept his promise, and hardly a week
passed that he and Herbert did not spend the

ettcr portion of a day in hunting. it proved
a delightful relaxation fully as beneficial to the
boy as to the man, or the litter knew the
proneness of childhood to neglect the laws of

ealth especially when interested in some new
and absorbing theme.

Fairly started on the road, Herbert soon
found it pleasant traveling. There was a frank-
!less about his instructor which be admired. and
Mr. Brandon was unquestionably one of the
best qualified lawyers of his day. It was in-
deed a fortunate thing for our young friend that

. brought him under the charge of this wise and
good man.

When a boy begins right, he is not apt to go
wrong. Let him obey the ‘admonitions of his
parents, and the teachings of his instructor, and
the path of duty will soon' lose its ruggedness
and difficulty, and he will see no pleasure in do.
ing anything except that which is right. Let
him form habits of study, and they are like seed
sown upon a good ground—they will surely
spring up and bear fruit.

'l'be two‘sucoeeding years of Herbert Bing-

 

ham’s life were devoted to hard study, and he
made substantial progress. Mr. Brandon ad-
vised him to pursue his miscellaneous reading
under the direction of his mother, and he
furgished him with all the books he could
rea .

At the end of these two years, Herbert on-
tered upon the study of law proper. Never did
he forget that beautiful summer morning when
the corpulent Mr. Brandon arose from his huge
arm-chair, took down a large volume lrom the
upper part of the library, and placing it in his
hands, said, with his genial, winning smile:

~“ There. my dear boy, to-day you begin your
career. May God make it a noble one, over
which you can look with unalloyed )leasure
when you come to lie upon your dc‘ath- ed. ”

There was an earnestness in the good man’s
manner which afl'ected Herbert deeply, and us
he raised his eyes and looked into his face, and
endeavored to form words of acknowledgment,
he faltered, and the big tears rolled down his
cheeks. .

During these same two years Riverton dou-
bled its population, and among the llcw»comcrs
was another who professed law. He was a
young man who was just beginning the practice,
yet his manner was such as to give the impres-
sion that he had been familiar with it for a.
score of years at least, although he was barely
twenty-one years of age. He was thin, wiry—
framed, with a simpering expression upon his
face, which made him rather popular witha.
certain class of people found in every commu-

mt .

fitally unscrupulous and unprincipled, Hugh
Strakle was just the man to find plenty to do
in a growing community, and it was not long
before he had his hands full. In thefirst cn-
counter with Mr. Brandon, this flip ant young
sprig had given out that he intended to "lay
out the old fellow.” Instead of that, however,
the wrathful old gentleman, aftersubmitting to
his impertinence for a long time, launched a.
volley at his head which left him cowering and
vanquished, although not slain.

Such people, sad to say, are not slain so easily.
and he soon revived, and became as impudent
and active as ever.

“Let him rage," was the philosophic reflec-
tion of Mr. Brandon. “1 am training up a
youngster that will take the Wind out of his
soils, or I am greatly mistaken.”

But a cloud was about to break over Herbert
Bingham’s head, of which neither he nor any
one else dreamed!

CHAPTER 2’;

L SEVERE AFFLICTION-HUGE STRAKLE AGAIN
f-THE FIRST CASE—DEFEAT.

IT was when Herix r3 Bingham had studied
law somewhat over a. year, that he was called
upon to bear the outset aflliction which had

et come to him. 11 the middle of cold winter

is father was taken sick, and despite the best
attention, he gradually sunk, and at the and ot
a week quietly went home to his reward.

we;

The Settler's Son.  23

 

This was a great blow to Herbert and his
mother, and for a time the plans of the former
were entirely broken up; but, after the body
was committed to its mother earth, and mother
and son met in the sad, still house for consulta-
tion, it was agreed that Herbert should continue
his studies with Mr. Brandon, keeping at the
same time. with the assistance of his mother, a
general ovorsight of the mill and plaCe.

Since the rapid emigration had set in, the
property of Mr. Bingham had become very
valuable. Settlers had gathered around them
until the little knot of houses had taken upon
themselves the proportions of a good-sized set-
tlement, and it had been given the name of
Bingbamton, in honor of its founder. Themill
run as constantly as ever, as the demands were
still as impossible to meet. A new one had
been erected near Riverfon, but neither of them
«triers able to answer the continual calls upon
t em.

So Herbert continued his studies the same as .

before! He had now reached the full stature of
manhood, although he still lacked a year of his
majority. Mr. Brandon carefully trained him
in the principles of his profession, impressing
him by precept and example that the road to
greatness and success lay in honesty, persever-
ance and a conscientious fulfillment of every
trust placed in his hands.

Hugh Strakle had built up uife a. practice
for himself, and was undou tedly making
money fast, and approaching at the same time
with equal celerity the point for which he
had aimed when starting out in his profession,
It is a lamentable fact that no matter how un-
scrupulous a lawyer may be, he is slire to find
penty to do, while the truly honest and great
man is frequently compelled to wait long years
before he can thrust his sickle into the bar-

vest.

At last Herbert reached the memorable pe-
riod in his life when he was admitted to prac-
tice, and with strange e ions he walked slow—
ly down the main street Riverton, reflecting
upon the new future which he had opened be-
fore him. He was twenty—one ears of age, and
was now a partner with the istinguished and
high-minded lawyer, John R. Brandon. Now,
his life-work was begun. . . .

He was interrupted in the midst of his medi-
tations by a slap u n his shoulder, and a shock
that nearly lifted im from his feet.

“ I say, my friend, let me congratulate you."

Turning round, he encountered the thin,
smiling face of Hugh Strakle, who added:

“I understand you passed quite a good ex-
amination—quite good. You will permit me,
therefore, to congratulate you."

“ Thank ou,’ replied Herbert, somewhat
embarr at the overwhelming manner of
his brother lawyer, who, up to this time, had
displayed very little interest in his welfare.

“ The examination, I understand. didn’t
amount to much, Bingham,” added Strakle, in
his same patronizing manner. I

,“ I thought it uite rigid and searching.”

“Of course; w at candidate doesn’t? They
don’t do these things as they ought to in Ohio_
You ought to have seen my examination in

, inform

 

Pennsylvania—took the better part of a week
to get through with me.”

“ Mr. Brandon was admitted in Pennsylvania,
and he told me yesterday, at the close of in
examination, that they had been more thorou h
and searching with me then: they were with him
in that State."

“ I have no doubt of it—not in the least: but
that was a good many years ago you see, That
accounts for Brandon having been admitted; it
was always a puzzle to me how such a man got
through. if he should undertake it now, he
would fail utterly.”

“Mr. Brandon has the reputation of a first
class lawyer." replied Herbert, quite indignant
at the impertinent manner in which his friend
was referred to. Strakle indulged in one of
those quiet, sarcastic laughs, which often ex-
press far more than any words can.

“I don’t blame you—I don’t blame you,” ad-
ded the full fledged lawyer: “I like to see
gratitude, but, my dear boy, you ought to un-
derstand matters. It has been my fortune to
encounter Brandon in court several times-”

“ I think your first case was in a suitin which
you a ipeared against him."

“ es,” replied Strakle, a little confused at
the mention of this afl‘alr in which he had suf—
fered such an ignominious defeat. “Once or
twice we have been associated in cases, and I
have known him long enough to form a. tolera~
bly correct opinion of him.”

“You have had the opportunity certainly.”

“Undoubtedly; I understand the man’s call»
her; there is little danger of his ever setting the
world on fire.”

“Allow me to say, Mr. Strakle, that your
Epinipn and mine decidedly differ on this ques-

ion. .

"Oh! yes, I expect that as a matter of
course,” was the reply of the young lawyer, as
he stroked the small goatee upon his chin. “ I
expect that, as you are oung yet—and allow
me to say, without inteu ing to hurt your feel-
in ., that you are decidedly verdant— I
17-2111,}? rather more than I was at your time of
i e.

“ It may possibly be that I am, but it I must
change my opinion of Mr. Branden to become
otherwise, I prefer to remain verdant all
through my life.”

Mr. Strakle indulged in a heartier laugh than
ever, and then slid into one of the figures which
he had used fully a scor: of times during the
last few weeks.

" A man cannot fall asleep and keep up with
the present age: he must have his wits about
him in this nineteenth century. The West is
17h? great field for genius; there, under the blue
skies of heaven, and among the virgin wilds.
must the highest life of civilization be at-
tained.”

“That is quite an impressive figure,” said
Herbert, disposed to become satirical himself,
“but don’t you think it is about worn out?"

“What do you mean by that. sir?”

“ I have heard you make this observation,
three se rate times in our lyceum, and! was

ad“3 that you had used the same original
remark once or twice in your speeches around
the country.” ' ' ‘

 

 

   

2‘ v

The Settler‘s Son.

  
  

 

Hugh Strakle hardly knew what to sayto
this; and, after a moment’s silence, he conclud—
ed to say nothing.

1“,yVhere are you going to put out your shin-

ei .

“ I think I shall remain in the office with Mr.
Brandon; he has given me a very good oppor-
tunity, and I should prefer to spend the first
year under his eye.”

“It will ruin you, Bingham, ruin you, just as
sure as you live: you’d better cut loose from
that old i'ogy, who won’t touch a case unless he
is sure he can make his part square With what
he calls his conscience. Fudge! the idea! Have
no patience with it.”

Herbert was in great danger of losing his
temper. Turning round, so as to face his com-
panion, he said:

“Understand, once for all, Mr. Strakle, that
I will not hear my friend talked of in that
manner.”

“ Whet’ll on do about it?” was the importi-
nent demon of the lawyer, thrusting _his
thumbs in the armholes of his vest, and assum-
ing a mock tragic attitude. '

“You utter another word, and I will show
you what I will do,” was the reply of Herbert,
who was growing gale with anoer.

“"You will, eh? erhaps— 3h! you’d better

0.

At this juncture, Herbert’s arm was taken
from behind, and he was led forcibly several
steps before he saw that it was Mr. Brandon
who was doing it.

“ There is one thin which I see you have not
learned,” said the ol gentleman, “ you cannot
control your temper, and you will make sorry

 

work in your profession so long as you are un-
able to do that.”

“ But to hear him sneer at you was more than
I could bear."

“ After this, understand, I will take my own ‘
part. no matter how violently assailed, and
pleas? do not become my champion before I ask ,
~Oll.

They walked slow] on to the office, into
which Herbert entere , while Mr. Brandon ox-
cusod himself on the plea of business. The ‘
young man had not been left alone five minutes, ,
when the door was suddenly opened, and an
honest looking farmer stepped in, and, staring
round the room asked:—

“ Be you the lawyer?”

“ Yes, sir,” replied Herbert, with some feel- ;
ing of pride, as he saw his first case before him. 1

‘Can you do something for me?”

‘fi’That depends upon what it. happens to

“Just look at that, will out!” said the settler, .
thrusting a paper into his and.

Herbert examined it, and saw that it was it
promissory note of a hundred dollars, payable ‘
on demand, drawn up legally, and properly
Signs .. -
“ Well, what do you want done?”

“That hundred dollars is for a colt I sold
Josiah Tompkins, and I want him to pay it.”

“ Is he a man of means?” ,

“Mighty mean—the horse is worth two hun-|
dred dollars, every cent of it,” .

“ Has he property?” ,

 

“CertalnIIv—one of the richest men within
ten miles. want to put it in your hands, and
I want you to make him pay it. I will give you
half of it, if you will get it of him.”

“I don’t do that kind of business. I shall
chgrge you a. regular fee whether I succeed or
no .

“But you ain’t a-going to fail?” asked the
countryman, in some alarm.

“ I have no fear of it.”

“How soon can you get it!”

“ The case can be tried next week; does Mr.
Tompkins know you are going to sue him?”

“ Yes; he has got that scam of a lawyer
named Strakle to help him; but reckon you’re
purty near as smart as he is.”

A thrill ran through Herbert at the thought
that his first case was to bring him in collision
with the man Whom he despised so heartily, and
he could not,snppress his feeling of exultation at
the manner in which he was going to van '5]:
him. How anxious he felt for the day of ial
tolfcome, and how carefully he prepared him-
se .

The day did come at last, and the courtroom
was thronged with the scores drawn thither by
the knowledge that Strakle and Bingham were
in appear against each other. The latter was
well and favorably known, but both parties had
their friends. who were quite anxious to see the
result, especially as it was known that the two
young men, from the force of circumstances,
were the rivals of each other.

Herbert, appearing for the plaintiff, opened
the case. He had conned his remarks so thor-
oughly, that he had them all by heart. He
represented his client as a poor, honest, worthy
man, struggling hard to support his family,

; parting with a favorite horse, at one half his

value, in order to meet his pressing wants, and
only demanding that a written promise to pay
should be fulfilled. Mr. Tompkins was a man
of means, abundantly able to buy a hundred
such horses; but whet r able or not, the moral
obligation remained (2 same. He had incurred
an honest debt, and he had nothing to do but to
pay it. ‘

Such was the substance of what the lawyer
said in his maiden speech at the bar, rather too
eloquently to please entirely Mr. Brandon, who
sat in the room, a deeply interested spectator of
the proceeding.

Mr. Strakle rose to reply. He was deeply im-

ressed with the eloquence of his young friend;
1e might safely say that he was overwhelmed.
Patrick Henry, and Otis, and Demosthenes
could not be compared to him. Atruly great
light had appeared—a light Whose rays were
dastined to il nminate the whole country. And
when he reflected that this light came out of
the woods—away out of the backwoods—the
thought was astounding. The gentlemen of the
jury would excuse him. but— ’

And here Mr. Strakle, with muck emotion,
took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes,
while nearly evsry one in the room was in a
broad grin, excepting Herbert, who felt like
flying at his tormentor and tearing him to
pieces.

“And to think this is all about a note-a
hundred-dollar note." continued Mi; Strakle. in

  

any a». “ «.mmwuww -..  ..  

 

.
i
i
;

 
   

ds...,_c;_s_ 

The Settles-’5 Son. 25

 

the samestrain; “it is too much—too much.
But," he added, appgrently rallying by a great
effort, “in client, 1'. Tompkins, did give the
note—he oesn’t deny it—he is an honorable
gentlenian—”

“ Then why don’t be pay it?" demanded Her-
bert, excitedly.

“For the simple reason that he has paid it
and I hold in in hand the recei tin full, signed

by Mr. Abram stmom himse I” i
“ It is a forgery i” cried out erbert, in great
excitement.

The judge quieted the court, reached his hand
for the paper, read it and then asked Eastman
whether that was his handwriting.

“ Yes, sir; I gave him that recei 13, but the
cult turned out a better horse than expected,
and I thought he could aford to pay it over
again !”

The court-room burst into one general roar,
while Herbert Bingham wished that the earth
might o n and swallow him. And. in the
midst 0 his intense chagrin, Mr. Brandon
pressed forward, and said:

“Served you right, Herbert; you ought to
have known better!”

 

CHAPTER XI.

THE ADVANTAGE 01‘ DEFEAT—TEE WISDOM 0F
AGE—ELECTION TO STATE LEGISLATURE—IN
CONGRESS-‘me AND UPWARD—CONCLU-
BION.

Tim ignominious defeat which Herbert Bing-
lmm suffered at the hands of Hugh Strakle was
one of the most fortunate things which could
have happened to him. It did more to take the
romance and childish air—castles out of his head
than two years of “lecturing ” from his in-
structor. e was inexpressibly chagrined, not
only at the ridiculous rout to which he had been

ut, but at the ridiculous figure he had cut in
osing his temper.

Worst of all, Mr. Brandon informed him that
it was his private opinion (which, of course, he
would express in no other one’s presence) that
he had madea complete fool of himself, and
committed a most serious blunder. It was a
bitter lesson, but it was the fire‘by which the
gold was to be refined, and be pressed down the
surging emotions, and went to work harder
than ever. ,

A few weeks later, Bingham_and Strakle
again a peared against each other in court, and,
as here ofore, uite anumber of spectators were
present. Stra le tried his old game of tan-
talizing his opponent, but our hero was too self—

to sufler any discomposure, and he
returned a few quiet thrusts, which cut as
cleanly and sharply as stilettoes. Mr. Brandon
had enunciated t as arula of his professional
life to avoid personalities, but he didn’t seem
particularly displeased when his pupil made
severe capital retorta-some of them so truth-
ful an well-winged that even Mr. Strakle hun-
self winced.

The result of the trial was a succeSS upon the
part oi! Herbert, who took his triumph very
quietly. Mr. Brandon did not even refer to

 

the matter until about 'a Week after. when he
remarked casually that the young lawyer did
pretty well; The old gentleman was evidently
determined that his pupil should not be spoiled
by too much raise.

From this t me forward there was no lack of
busmess for the lawyers in Riverton. The
place had assumed the dimensions of a. large
town, and there was abundant and remunera—
tive work for Brandon 8: Bingham, and also for
flu h Strakle.

he latter never found the occasion to repeat
the triumph which he had gained over his
young rival at the beginning of his career as a
lawyer. Herbert never forgot the lesson, and
there can be‘ but little doubt that it was the
pest thing that could have befallen him at that
line.

As the years increased, Mr. Brandon gradually
shifted his load upon the shoulders of his vigor»
ous partner, who grew and strengthened from
the additional labor required at his hands. The
advice and counsel of the experienced lawyer
was invaluable; but he saw that Herbert Bing-
hum was developing into a man who would
speedily become a great power in the West. ,

Our hero had been in practice but a few years
when he was oflered the nomination for the
State Legislature. It was a great com liment,
and he was strongly tem ted; but, at t e earn-
est advice of Mr. Bran on, he declined the
honor.

“There’s plenty of time, Herbert," said he, .
“ don’t let your ambition run away; with your .
discretion. The greed for cflice is t e ruination
of many a talented young man. If you were
elected, no doubt on would commit some
blunder which woud take more years to set
right than did your performance with Strakle
on the horse duestion.”

Five years ater, however, when the nomina-
tion was again offered Herbert, he accepted it.
being urged thereto by Mr. Brandon. The
opposite party, as the best they could do, placed
at the head of their ticket the name of Hugh
Strakle, and the contest was begun. The can-
didates traveled from one end of the district to
the other, and each did all the work possible.
Strakle resorted to the low trickery to which
the politician descends but in the end he was
defeated, and Herbert Bingham took his seat in
the Legislature, with a handsome majority of
the vones cast.

Herbert grew rapidly.into a statesman and
orator. His habits of study, and the admirable
instruction he had received, had stored his mind
with most valuable knowledge, and best of all,
With pure principles. He had a fine, musical
voxce, and t ere were no speakers in the honor-
able body which commanded more attention
then he.

He was re—elected three successive times to the
Legislature, when he declined another nomina-
tion, as the business at home imperatively.
demanded his attendance. But the nextyear.
most unexpectedly to himself, he was nominated
for Congress. He was so surprised atthe honor,
that he was at a loss whether to decline or
accept. His first impulse was to accept, but
grave doubts arose in his mind. and in accor-

 

,‘m 1 _.._.,

dance with his invariable custom at such times,
he went to his mother and to Mr. Brandon.

The old lady was reading her Bible when her
son came to her with the uestion. She did not
tell him that she had hear of it before him, but
such being the fact, she was prepared with her
re 1v.

RI think, as it seems to be the wish of the

ople, that I would take it. You are too old

' f: be led astray by the temptations which beset
public men more than any one else, and i can~
not see any reason why you should xdecline,
when another such opportunity may never
come to you again. But do not decide until
you have consulted Mr. Brandon.”

Herbert kissed his mother as he passed out,
and shortly after he was in the ofiice of his
instructor, and laid the question before him.

“ Acce t it, my dear boy—accept it by all
means. here is a tide in the affairs of men,
which taken at the flood, etc. The tide has now
come, and you must take it at its flood. Accept
it without delay, throw your whole heart into
it, and work with a consciousness that you
haven’t a single vote to spare.”

“I will do it," replied Herbert, and then and
there he sat down and wrote his acceptance of
the nomination which had been tendered him,
doin it as briefly as Bossible, and pledging his
whofe strength and a honorable means toward
attaining success.

The opposition did not nominate their can-
didate until the succeeding month, so that Her-
bert was given until then to arrange his busi-
ness matters so as to give himfilf all the op-
portunity he wished to plunge Ody and soul
into the canvass.

Finall the candidate a penred in the shape
of our 0 d acquaintance, ugh Strakle, who had
toiled night and day to get the nomination. He
had made every pledge asked of him, and there
was little doubt but that he would make a for-
midable competitor.

A week or two succeeding the nominations,
Herbert was sitting in the office conversing with
Mr. Brandon, and taking his advice as to what
course he should pursue in the campaign upon
which -he was about to enter, when our hero
shru tly asked him:

w “ ave you seen the papers this week? I sup-
pose the nomination will be in each.”

“Yes; I received both rhis morning, and you
are there,” he replied, as he took the “ Bugle of
Libert ," from his hat, and deliberately opened
it, wit a. significant smile.

“ I believe there is a parliragraph which has
some reference to you. on may read it for
yourself."

No man yet over picked up a newspa r
which he suspech contained a mention of is
name, without a peculiar interest, and Herbert
had never scanned the columns of the “ Bugle ”
with half the attention he now did.

It was indeed there, double-leaded. At the
top of the editorial column, in large letters, was
the name of Hugh Strakle, the people‘s nomina-
tion for Congress. Then followed a long article,
in which this aspirant was praised to the very

1kies.

He was a
tinod to ran

triot, s statesman, an orator, des-
us one of the very first in the,

The Butler's Son.

Union, a self-sacrificiu , public-spirited man,
who was the friend of t e day laborer and me-
chanic, and one who would reflect the highest
honor upon the district he represented, and
for whom no patriotic, intelligent man could re-
fuse to work and vote, and the article ended
with the prophecy that he could be elected by
an overwhelmin majority.

The next artic e was headed, “ The Nominee
of the Opposition,” and after iving a succinct
account 0 the convention, an his nomination,
proceeded to sa : '

“ We, as public journalists, havingthe dearest
interestsof the people at heart, are often com-
pelled to rform duties so painful, that we
would gla ly shrink from them, could we do so
without compromising our conscience. Ac-
tuated by these motives, we proceed to show
our friends the man who has been placed before
them as the nominee of the 0 position, and who
has the elfrontery to expect is has the slightest
chance against our own noble candidate.

“ Herbert Bingham, if he rec sived his deserts,
would now be serving out a term in the State
Prison. While a member of our Legislature, it
is well known that no bill could expect his ad~
vocacy until the honorable gentleman had re-
ceived his price, and we have good reason to
believe that after accepting a. bribe from one
party, he turned and betrayed it to another,

or the reason that he was paid a higher
rice.

“And this is the nominee of the opposition.
“Herbert Binghum is a dissolute, unprinci-
pied men, whose early dissipations and immo—
rality, it is generally believed, hastened the
death of his father. The succeeding years,
which should have brought remorse and refor-
mation, have only confirmed the unfortunate
man in his excesses and crimes.

“ The descent of this man is such that no good
can be expected from him. His father was a
Tory during the Revolution, and his grand-
father, Orestes Z. Bingham, wnsa deserter, who
was shot during the French War. An uncle of
the Congressional candidate was hung some
years ago in Kentucky for horse'stealin . An-
other uncle was drummed out of neral
Wayne’s army for drunkenness and cowardice,
and an only brother of our opponent is now serv-
ing out a term in the Pennsylvania State Prison
for counterfeiting. Fortunately, Mr. Bingham,
has no other brother, else we should have the

sinful duty of recording some heinous crime of

im.

“ And this is the nominee of the opposition.

“ It is an insult to the intelligence and virtue
of our citizens that such a man as this, who
should be hiding himself in obscurity for very
shame, should be thrust before them. Let us
all give such a reproof to these shameless
wretches that they will never recover from it.
Indeed, we know this will be done, and the op-
position will leam one thing: Henceforth, when
they enter a olitical campaign, let them do so
With respecta ls men as their stande bearers,
and not with those who should be convicts in
our State Prison.”

Herbert read this extraordi article from
beginning to end, and when he aid his paper

 

down he was in a towering passion.

  

,3

2'...- i- ._..__.~_,.AM~._~—‘..._n_. mfg),

 
     

   

  

 
    

 

 

  
 

 

 

‘ The Settler’a Son. ‘ 87

 

“The scoundrel!” I’ll make him suffer for
glut l” he exclaimed, as he excitedly paced the

cor.

“Rather forcible, isn’t it?” said Mr. Brandon,
speaking as though he saw nothing particularly
objectionable.

“Forcihlel it is scandalous! it is outrageous!
I’ll cane that editor Within an inch of his life,
and then I’ll prosecute him for libel—”

“Tut, tut,” interrupted Mr. Brandon, “not
so fast; this is one of the penalties of promi-
uency. It won’t hurt you."

Herbert stopped short, and faced his friend.

“Do you see what it says? It speaks of my
grandfather being shot as a deserter, when he
was killed at the siege of Quebec, and father
served under Washington all through the Revo-
lution. And then it says my conduct hastened
his death; that is too much l’ ’

And the tears coursed down his cheeks at the
recollection of the terrible words.

“Rather hard I admit, but take it philoso-
phically. Those who know you know it is a
lie, and those who are unacquainted with you,
understand that it is gotten up for political
effect. Depend upon it, it won’t hurt you.”

“ And then it speaks of an uncle being hung,
and another drummed out of the army. when
neither father nnr mother ever had a brother,
while I am accuser! of having a brother con-
victed of counterfeiting—"

Herbert stopped to laugh at the ludicrous as-
sertions, and he added:

"Good heavens! who ever heard of such a
thing! Where did he get all this extraordi-
nary information from ?” ‘

"From the father of all inventions, perhaps
assisted somewhat by Mr. Strakle.” .

“ It can’t be that Hugh would descend to such
villainy as thatl”

“It is just like him, and you must make up
your mind to encounter a good deal of it before
the campaign is over. You have an _unprinci-
pied man to deal with, but you have right and
justice on your side, and, I believe, will triumph
over him.”

“ But this editor has laid himself open to
prosecution,” replied Herbert, who was hardly
prepared as yet to take the matter as coolly as

is aged friend; “there are distinct charges
made which are libelous in character, and which
Iam sure would secure his conviction before
any jury in the country.”
r. Brandon shook his head.

“ Very unlikely; these are election times, and
due allowance must be made for the natural ex-
citement which prevails. If it went against the
editor he could make his correction after he
had done all the mischief possible. Further-
more, you are just about to enter upon the cam-
paign, and you have no time to undertake any
such business as this. Besides, if you feel par-
ticularly sore about what on have just read,

on can now look at the ot er side of the ques-
ion.’ I

Mr. Brandon handed his youn friend the last
number of the Sentinel of Free om, and point-
ed to its leading editorial. .

A perusal of this could not fail to produce a
mile; for it was almost the same as the one he

 

had just read, except that the names were re-
versed.

.Bingham there read that Hugh Strakle was a
Vile, unprincipled creature, and as long as he
trod the earth unmolested, just so long was the
gallows cheated of its due.

He had committed number-less crimes, and
was a being whom no respectable man would re-
ceive info hissnciety. It demanded that Chris-
tian, right-thuiking people should rise in their
majesty, and indignantly resent the insult
which had thus been forced upon them.

But Mr. Herbert Bing‘haml nhl Noble, high-
minded, conscientious, patriotic, statesmanlike,
self-sacrificing, universally beloved—these were
a few of the modifiers that were strung through
a column, and which seemed inadequate to ex~
press the editor’s gushing admiration, for his
beloved candidate.

Bingham blushed crimson as he read this ful—
some flattery of himself. Disgust took the
place of indignation, and turning to Mr. nu...»
don, he said: .

“ Qne of these papers is an unconscionable
liar. ’

“ I think both are,” was the truthful reply.

“ You are right; I would as lief be denounced
as a villain and swindler as to be praised in that
outrageous style. I doubt whether either editor
has ever seen me, or whether he ever heard of
me before I came up for office.”

A half-hour later Bingham was walking med-
itatingly homeward, when he encountered
Strakle on the street. They had met several
times since their nomination, and there was al
ways the appearance of cordiality and friend-
ship between them. In fact, Bingham felt no
enmity at all toward his com .titor, and was
glad to meet him as a rsonal riend.

They chatted awhi , and then Strakle sud-
denly drew the Bugle from his pocket. .

“ By the way, Bingham, here is a rich article
that I have just read. I call that rather
rough.”

And he pointed to the editorial which 90 se-
verely denounced his rival. Bingham looked
at it a few moments and then handed it back,
with a remark that he had seen it before.

“Severe, ain’t it? I think if I was pitched
into in that style I would withdraw from the
canvass in disgust.”

“ Do you really think you would, now!”

“ Indeed I would."

Without another word, Bingham drew the
“Sentinel of Freedom ” from his pocket and
handed it to him. Strakle nervously opened it.
and his eyes qmcklv lit upon the article which
referred to him. e ran rapidly through it,
and then thrusting it back, fairly shouted, as he
dashed away:

“I’ll cane that villain of an editor till he
can’t stand I”

 

_Sure enough, he encountered the offending in«
d1v1dual shortly afterward, and administered a
chastisement, which was, perhaps, not unde-
served. .

However, he did not withdraw from the con-
test. _but entered into it harder than ever.

This canvass was one of the most exciting

  

.4. a, sea:

28 The Settler's Son.

 

which ever took place in the West. Great

ublic questions ware involved, and Herbert

ingham wdrked as he had never toiled before.
Hugh Strakle did the same, and he was no in—
significant opponent. He was a good speaker,
lavish with his money and promises, and he had
numerous friends, who could not have toiled
more faithfully. He frequently followed Her-
bert in his speeches, and often undid all his
work.

Bin ham felt grave doubts of his own success,
but w en the votes were counted, it was found
that he had over a thousand majority, the
largest by far which the district had ever given
any candidate. It was not natural for him to
be otherwise than exultant and highly pleased
over his success; and, when a. few days after-
ward, he met Strakle in the street, he was
strongly tempted to ask him his opinion of the
“light which had risen in the backwoods,” but
such a course would have been unmanly, and he
cast the thought aside with scorn.

“ It was a fair, stand-up fight,” said Strakle,
“and you beat me out and out. My only feel-
ing is not for myself individually, but at the
triumph of your cause. Its principles, I am
sure, will ruin our beloved country within five
years at furthest.”

The same characteristics which gave Herbert
Binghama reputation-in his State legislature
brought him into notice among the greater
minds of his country. “There were giants in
those da ” in the _ alls of Congress, but even
pulmong t 059 he soon made himself known and

e t.

On one occasion, near the close of the session,
when a most exciting question was before Con-
gress, and the galleries were packed to suil‘oca-
tion, Herbert arose in his seat. Almost imme-
diately everything was hushed—that is, as
nearly as it can be in such a body—and uncon-
sciously he raised his eyes to the galleries. As
he did so, he saw the gray head of Mr. Brandon,
who was leaning forward, as if to catch every
syllable he uttered, while, within ten feet of
him, each unconscious of the other’s presence,
stood Hugh Strakle, equally intent upon what
was to be said.

The sight inspired him, and on that day and
at that time he delivered the most el uent
and soul-stirring speech which had ever alien
from his lips. The applause was overwhelming,
and the gallery seemed to be swept b a whirl-
wind of emotion. In the midst of t ewildést
excitement and when the enthusiasm had
passed all bounds, Mr. Brandon. forgetful of the

 

time and place, was seen to spring from his seat
throw up his hands, and those nearest hear
him shout:

“ THAT 3 MY BOY! Tnu’s ll'Y nor! GOD
BLESS HIM!”

His actions were unnoticed except by a few
who were in his immediate vicinity, and he was
hardlv conscious of them himself. He waited
outsi e for his friend, knowing that the pressure
around him would be so great that it would be
impossible to get within reach of his hand. As
soon as Herbert caught a glimpse of the old man

.he hastened to him, and drawmg his arm with-

in his own, took him oil to his own house.

“You did well, Herbert; I think I may safely
tell you that I felt proud of you; but don’t let
your success turn our head; the more success—
ful, the more care ul you must be.”

There was one who was as deeply interested
in the career of Herbert Bingham as was Mr.
Brandon, although that person never listened to
one of his efforts. It was his mother, who felt
all the natural pride of a mother’s heart in the
success of her son. She followed him with her
prayers, and thanked, God that the blandish-
ments of triumph were not able to rob him of
his truthfulness, temperance, and Christian
principle. '

When Herbert Bingham resigned his seatin
Congress, a number of years later, it was to as—
su me the gubernatorial chair of his native State.
This was the ofliee which he desired more than
any other, and the immense majority which
placed it in his hands was certainly complimen-
tary in the highest degree.

At the dinner given the Governor-elect by the
citizens of- Riverton, at the conclusion of a re-
ply to a toast, Governor Bingham. said:

“ Whatever success, under the blessing of
heaven, I have met with in public life is attri-
buted to the instruction of two persons. The
furthest recollection to which memory can car-
ry me is 'when I knelt at my mother’s knee, and
lisped the prayer of childhood: the first lessons
-—those which remain by a man through his life-
time—came from her: and you who know what
a noble mother still lives Lo bless and cheer me,
understand the holy nature of these teachings.
My youth and early manhood were spent under
the guidance of my venerable friend on my
right to whom, more than any man on the
broa earth, I owe a debt of gratitude, which
can never be paid. Let any youth be persever—
ing, honest, conscientious, considerate, and de-
termined, and his course must ever be ONWARD
AND urwm.”

THE END.

 


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DIME DIAIDGUES NUMBER TEN. DIME DIAmGUEs NUMBER TWENTY-FIVE.
DIME DIALOGUES NUMBER ELEVEN. DIME DIAmGUES NUMBER TWENTY-six.
DIME DIAquUEs NUMRER TWELVE. DIME DIALOGUEE NUMBER TWENTY-SEVEN
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DIME DIAwGUEs NUMBER FOURTEEN. DIME DIALOGUEE NUMBER TWENTY-NINE.
DIME DIALOGUES NUMBER FIFTEEN. DIME DIALOGUEs NUMBER Tn
DIME DIALOGUES NUMBER SIXTEEN. DIME DIAmGUEE NUMBER TE RTY-ONE.
Each volume, 100 pages 12mo., containing from 15 to 25 pieces.
8' For sale by all newsdeulers; or sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt
of price-TEN CENTS EACH.

BEADLE dc ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St, New York.

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POPULAR 

DIME HAND—BOOKS.

 

 

 

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GAME AND PASTIME SERIES.

HAND-BOOK OF SUMMER SPORTS—Comprising Walking, Running, Jump-
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HAND-300K 0F PEDESTRIANISM—Giving the Rules for Training and‘Prac-
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CRICKET AND FOOT-BALL—A desirable Companion
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DIME BOOK OF CROQUET—A complete ide to the game, with the latest
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DIME GUIDE TO SWIMMING—Embracing all the rules of the art tor both
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1 E YACHdTING AND ROWING—This volume will be found very complete as a.
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BIDENG AND DRIVING—A sure ide to correct Horsemanship, with com-
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M2 OCTAVO PAGES. PRICE, 5 CENTS. /

i Doerhunter, the B0 Scout of the Great
North Woods. By 01 Coomes.

2 Buli‘ulo Bill, from Boyhood to Man-
hood. By 001. Prentiss Inzruham.

3 Kit ()aruon, King of Guides. By Albert

W. Aiken.

4 Gordon Lillie, t e Boy-Inter reter of
the innees. By a'or H. B. toddard.

5 Bruin Adams. 01 Grizzly’s Boy
Purd. B Colonel Prentiss ingrahum.

6 Deadwoot Dick as a Boy. y Ed-
ward L. Wheeler.

7 Wild Bill, the Pistol Prince. By Colonel
Prentiss Ingrahum.

8 The Prairie Ranch. By Joseph E.
Bad er, Jr.

9 Rov ng Joe: The History of a “Bor-
der Boy." By A. H. Post.

_1 0 Texas Jack, the Mustang King. By 001.

Prentiss Ingraham.

l 1 Charley Skylark. A Story of School-
day Scrupes and College Capers. By
Maj. H. B. Stoddard.

2 Marlposn Marsh. By J. E. Badger. Jr.

Roving Ben. By John J. Marshall.

S )riug Steel, King ofthe Bush. By Jos.
i]. Bad er, Jr.

Wido-. \vnko George, the Boy Pio-
neer. By Edward Willett.

The Boy \vlzurd. By Barry Ringgold.

Peter Pepper-grass. the Greenhorn
from Gotham. By Noah Nufl’.

Adrift on the Prairie. and Ama-
teur Hunters on the Bulfan
Range. By 011 Coomes.

The Fortune Hunter; or. Roving
Joe as Miner. Cowboy, Trapper and Run
ter. By A. H. Post.

Trn per Tom, the Wood Imp. By T.
C. arbuugh.

Yellow "air. the Boy (‘hief of the
Pawnees. B Col. Prontias lngmhnm.
The Snuw ' rail. By T. C. Harlmugh.
01d Grizzly Adams, the Bear Tamer.

By Dr. Frank Powell..
‘Voods and Waters. By Capt. F.
Incidents in the

Whittaker.

A Rollin Stone:
Career on Sea. and Land of Col. Prentiss
Ingmham. By Wm. R. Eyster.

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1161‘! klliver Rovers. By C. Dunning
ar .
Plaza and Plain ' 01' Wild Adve t
of “Buckskin Sam,’H aim. Sam 3.11%?)
By 00]. Prentiss Ingmham.
The Sword Prince. The Romantic
Life of Col. Monstery. By Captain Fred.
QVV'hittz).§ile‘. T
.now- oe om. ByT.C.Harbuu h.
Paul de Lacy, the French Beast Chafin-
lé‘r. Byl (bungling Clark.
oun ie am ire. B
to eaver t e Indian Med'c‘n
Tghiefh By (301. Pge‘ritiss Ingraham. ] l e
no oy .rusa er. B ' .
Whittaker. y captam F
The Charm of the Great White
Stag, and Camp and Canoe.
0(15.1D1;nnin Clarkk) '
( ’ ‘ar nqu e and His B
r(‘hums. ByJwger Starbuck. 0y
The Dashing Dragoon; or, The

Ni;r it-Hawk George.

The Boy Exiles of Siberia. By T.
Morris R'edwing.
By Edward Willett.

By Ed. S. Ellis.

Dunning.r Clark.

The Lost Boy Whalers. By T. (‘.
Col. Prentiss Ingrnham.
Morris.

The Pampas Hunters; or. New

Story of Gen. Geor e A. C t .
Ca t. Fred. Whittakeg. us er By
B C
Prentiss Ingraham. y done]
0. Harhaugh.
The Young Bear Hunters. By
Smart Sim the Lad with a. Level Head.
The Settler’s Son.
Walt Ferguson’s Cruise. By C.
Rifle and Revolver. B Ca t. .
Whittaker. y p Fred‘
Harbnugh.
Bronco Billy. the Saddle Princa. By
Dick,_the Stowaway. By Charles
The Colorado Ho 5' :0an
Indigo Plantation. By’IIozs. E. 3:11:33}:
York Boys in linenos Ayres. Bv T. C.
Harhaug . '

Beadle’s Boy’s Library is for solo by all Newsdealers, live cents per copy; or sent

by mail. on receipt of six cents each.

BEADZJE AND flDAJIIS, Publishers,

By,.

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