tions that did not depend on personal merit. He was respectful to his superiors from habit, but had often been known to correct their mistakes and to reprove their vices, with a fearlessness that proved how essentially he regarded the more material points, and with a natural discrimination that appeared to set education at defiance. In short, a disbeliever in the ability of man to distinguish between good and evil without the aid of instruction would have been staggered by the character of this extraordinary inhabitant of the frontier. His feelings appeared to possess the freshness and nature of the forest in which he passed so much of his time, and no casuist could have made clearer decisions in matters relating to right and wrong; yet he was not without his prejudices, which, though few, and colored by the character and usages of the individual, were deep-rooted, and had almost got to form a part of his nature. But the most striking feature about the moral organization of Pathfinder was his beautiful and unerring sense of justice. This noble trait (and without it no man can be truly great; with it, no man other than respectable) probably had its unseen influence on all who associated with him; for the common and unprincipled brawler of the camp had been known to return from an expedition made in his company, rebuked by his sentiments, softened by his language, and improved by his example. As might have been expected, with so elevated a quality, his fidelity was like the immovable rock. Treachery in him was classed among the things that are impossible, and as he seldom retired before his enemies, so was he never known, under any circumstances that admitted of an alternative, to abandon a friend. The affinities of such a character were, as a matter of course, those of like for like. His associates and intimates, though more or less determined by chance, were generally of the highest order, as to moral propensities; for he appeared to possess a species of instinctive discrimination that led him insensibly to himself, most probably, to cling closest to those whose characters would best reward his friendship. In short, it was said of the Pathfinder, by one accustomed to study his fellows, that he was a fair example of what a just-minded and pure man might be, while untempted by unruly or ambitious desires, and left to follow the bias of his feelings, amid the solitary grandeur and ennobling influences of a sublime nature; neither led aside by the inducements which influence all to do evil amid the incentives of civilization, nor forgetful of the Almighty Being, whose spirit pervades the wilderness as well as the towns. Such was the man whom Sergeant Dunham had selected as the husband of Mabel. In making this choice he had not been as much governed by a clear and judicious view of the merits of the individual, perhaps, as by his own likings; still, no one knew the Pathfinder as intimately as himself, without always conceding to the honest guide a high place in his esteem, on account of these very virtues. That his daughter could find any serious objection to the match, the old soldier did not apprehend; while, on the other hand, he saw many advantages to himself, in dim perspective, that were connected with the decline of his days, and an evening of life passing among descendants who were equally dear to him through both parents. He first made the proposition to his friend, who had listened to it kindly, but who, the sergeant was now pleased to find, already betrayed a willingness to come into his own views that was proportioned to the doubts and misgivings proceeding from his humble distrust of himself. CHAPTER X. Think not I love him, though I ask for him: SHAKESPEARE: As You Like It, III. v. 109. A WEEK passed in the usual routine of the garrison. Mabel was becoming used to a situation that, at first, she had found not only novel but a little irksome; and the officers, and men, in their turn, gradually familiarized to the presence of a young and blooming girl, whose attire and carriage had that air of modest gentility about them which she had obtained in the family of her patroness, annoyed her less by their ill-concealed admiration, while they gratified her by the respect which, she was fain to think, they paid her on account of her father; but which, in truth, was more to be attributed to her own modest, but spirited deportment, than to any deference for the worthy sergeant. Acquaintances made in a forest, or in any circumstances of unusual excitement, soon attain their limits. Mabel found one week's residence at Oswego sufficient to determine her as to those with whom she might be intimate, and those whom she ought to avoid. The sort of neutral position occupied by her father, who was not an officer while he was so much more than a common soldier, by keeping her aloof from the two great classes of military life, lessened the number of those whom she was compelled to know, and made the duty of decision comparatively easy. Still, she soon discovered that there were a few, even among those that could aspire to a seat at the commandant's table, who were disposed to overlook the halbert, for the novelty of a well-turned figure, and of a pretty, winning face; and by the end of the first two or three days, she had admirers even among the gentlemen. The quartermaster, in particular, a middleaged soldier, who had more than once tried the blessings of matrimony, but was now a widower, was evidently disposed to increase his intimacy with the sergeant, though their duties often brought them together; and the youngsters among his messmates did not fail to note that this man of method, who was a Scotsman of the name of Muir, was much more frequent in his visits to the quarters of his subordinate than had formerly been his wont. A laugh, or a joke, in honor of the "sergeant's daughter," however, limited their strictures; though "Mabel Dunham" was soon a toast that even the ensign or the lieutenant did not disdain to give. At the end of the week, Duncan of Lundie sent for Sergeant Dunham after evening roll-call, on business of a nature that, it was understood, required a personal conference. The old veteran dwelt in a movable hut, which, being placed on trucks, he could order to be wheeled about at pleasure, sometimes living in one part of the area within the fort, and sometimes in another. 1 On the present occasion he had made a halt near the centre, and there he was found by his subordinate, who was admitted to his presence without any delay, or dancing attendance in an antechamber. In point of fact, there was very little difference in the quality of the accommodations given to the officers and those allowed to the men, the former being merely granted the most room, and Mabel and her father were lodged nearly, if not quite, as well as the commandant of the place himself. "Walk in, sergeant, walk in, my good friend," said old Lundie, heartily, as his inferior stood in a respectful attitude at the door of a sort of library and bedroom into which he had been ushered; "walk in, and take a seat on that stool. I have sent for you, man, to discuss anything but rosters and pay-rolls this evening. It is now many years since we have been comrades, and 'auld lang syne' should count for something even between a major and his orderly, a Scot and a Yankee. Sit ye down, man, and just put yourself at your ease. It has been a fine day, sergeant?" "It has indeed, Major Duncan," returned the other, who, though he complied so far as to take the seat, was much too practiced not to understand the degree of respect it was necessary to maintain in his manner; "a very fine day, sir, it has been, and we may look for more of them at this season." "I hope so, with all my heart. The crops look well, as it is, man, and you'll be finding that the 55th make almost as good farmers as soldiers. I never saw better potatoes in Scotland than we are likely to have in that new patch of ours." 1 This circumstance is a real incident taken from the American Lady of Mrs. Grant, of Laggan. See Appendix, Note I. "They promise a good yield, Major Duncan, and in that light a more comfortable winter than the last." "Life is progressive, sergeant, in its comforts, as well as in its need of them. We grow old, and I begin to think it time to retire and settle in life. I feel that my working days are nearly over." "The king, God bless him, sir, has much good service in your honor, yet." "It may be so, Sergeant Dunham especially if he should happen to have a spare lieutenant-colonelcy left." "The 55th will be honored the day that commission is given to Duncan of Lundie, sir." "And Duncan of Lundie will be honored the day he receives it. But, sergeant, if you have never had a lieutenant-colonelcy, you have had a good wife, and that is the next thing to rank, in making a man happy." “I have been married, Major Duncan; but it is now a long time since I have had no drawback on the love I bear his Majesty and my duty." "What, man, not even the love you bear that active, little, round-limbed, rosy-cheeked daughter, that I have seen in the fort these last few days! Out upon you, sergeant! old fellow as I am, I could almost love that little lassie myself, and send the lieutenant-colonelcy to the devil." "We all know where Major Duncan's heart is, and that is in Scotland, where a beautiful lady is ready and willing to make him happy as soon as his own sense of duty shall permit." "Aye, hope is ever a far-off thing, sergeant," returned the superior, a shade of melancholy passing over his hard Scottish features as he spoke; "and bonny Scotland is a far-off country. Well, if we have no heather and oatmeal in this region, we have venison for the killing it; and salmon as plenty as at Berwick-upon-Tweed. Is it true, sergeant, that the men complain of having been overvenisoned and over-pigeoned of late?" "Not for some weeks, Major Duncan, for neither deer nor birds are so plenty at this season as they have been. |