Page:Once a Week June to Dec 1863.pdf/238

228 and I’ve read that there’s nothing like it in the whole world.”

“It is very grand—very wonderful,” said I: “noble scenery amongst the White Mountains, and capital fishing in your New England lakes, as no doubt you know.”

If I had doubled my fist and given Reuben Baldwin a knock-down blow with it, he could hardly have looked more amazed than when I uttered these apparently inoffensive words.

“Lake!” he exclaimed, in an excited tone, “what lake? you don’t mean to say that you have been fishing in that lake ”

“I never fished in any lake, or in any stream in New England,” replied I. “I was frequently told that fish were very plentiful in those beautiful lakes, that’s all I know about the matter.”

Whilst this short dialogue had been going on, Esther had cleared away the “litters,” put everything in its place, and was now setting the table in that quick, silent manner I have so often remarked amongst her countrywomen. Without appearing to notice our conversation, she now turned towards her husband, and in a low voice asked him if he could find a few hen’s eggs for her, as she had none in the house.

“Yes, yes; there’s some in the wood-house, I saw them there this morning. I’ll bring them to you in a minute; and now, Esther, fly round and get us something to eat as quick as you can.”

As soon as her husband left the room, Mrs. Baldwin came towards me, and in a grave, earnest manner, said, ’Twas not that I so much wanted the eggs, but—don’t say anything about fishing in them New Hampshire lakes to my husband, it sets him off so; and, for the land’s sake! don’t ask nothing about that kind o’ picture,” continued she, indicating the mysterious-looking, cone-framed print rag, which I have already described, by a slight nod; “it would send him wild—and yet—perhaps he’ll tell you all about it himself, if you don’t notice it, for he seems to have taken a fancy to you.”

There is a cool imperturbability about a genuine Yankee woman which makes me believe that she could never be taken by surprise, never be thrown off her guard; her complete self-possession and command of countenance, under all circumstances, are admirable; and yet, perhaps, there are cases in which an English woman’s embarrassment would be more interesting; but, however, this was not one of them.

Mrs. Baldwin had hardly finished speaking when her husband returned with the eggs, which he handed to her in his hat. She looked up at the clock.

“The steak and fish are quite done by this time, Reuben, and by the time you’ve eaten them the pancakes will be ready.”

She left us for a few minutes, and then returned with a tray laden with a dish of stewed fish that was fit to set before a London alderman, a beef-steak, to which I cannot give such unqualified praise, a dish of potatoes, and another of boiled Indian corn. Setting these things on the table, she slipped out of the room again, and brought in a second relay, consisting of pumpkin pies—which are very much like our cheese-cakes—cranberry jelly, cheese, butter, cakes, and tea; to these, as a matter of course, were added hot rolls of beautiful light bread. How it is managed I cannot conceive, but I will here mention incidentally that I never sat down to tea or breakfast in an American farm-house without seeing hot rolls that looked as if they had that minute come out of the oven!

Though nothing could exceed the hospitality of my entertainer, I did not feel altogether at my ease. The injunction given me by his wife, in such a mysterious manner, had raised a doubt in my mind as to whether he was perfectly sane, and the apprehension I was under lest I should unwittingly say something that would “set him off,” or “send him wild,” was a constant restraint upon the freedom of my conversation.

“I am not to say anything about the lakes of New England, and I am to take no notice of that queer picture,” said I to myself. “Well, there are plenty of other subjects open to me, for Mr. Baldwin is a sensible, intelligent man.” But then the unpleasant suspicion of his being deranged again presented itself, and I began to speculate upon what kind of lunacy it might be that he was afflicted with—whether he was violent, for instance? His wife had no appearance of being afraid of him; but then, as I said before, these Yankee women are so wonderfully calm and self-possessed, that that’s no rule! At all events, here I must stay for the night, for to make any excuse for going back to Steubenville, after having so far received his hospitality, would be most ungracious—besides, “Reuben has taken a fancy to me.”

Our plentiful meal—which was dinner, tea, and supper all in one—was over, and all things cleared away by a little after eight o’clock. Knowing the primitive hours that are kept by the country people in most parts of America, and being unwilling to cause any inconvenience in the family, I offered to retire, if this were their hour for going to bed.

“Well, sir, as soon as you please; but you’ll excuse me if I read a chapter or two first, ’tis my custom, sir, and I believe I should not sleep good if I neglected it; we New Englanders are mostly brought up to read the Bible, but some of us are apt to forget it, and to think of nothing but how to get money, and then the Lord sends us something to waken us up, and show us his power.”

As Reuben spoke, he walked up to the strange looking picture, and stood with his eyes fixed on it. I was afraid that he now was really “going off,” and thought it most prudent to make no reply to his observations, as it might tend to make matters worse. His wife, however, seemed to know how to manage him; for taking his Bible down from the shelf, she handed it to him, saying, “Here, Reuben, it is getting late.”

He took it from her mechanically, with his eyes still fixed on the picture, and then in a low voice, as if he were talking to himself, said, “—yes; that’s what I forgot to be, and the Lord visited me in his wrath.”

“You won’t talk now, please, Reuben; I ain’t so good a scholar as you, and I never can read