The Story of a Summer Part 12

"For some years past your father very kindly gave me a.s.sistance during three months of the year; if you can continue this, it will be a great charity, as I am very much in need of it.

"Yours respectfully

"Have you not yet exhausted your mail?" enquired Gabrielle.

"No," said Ida, "I have still two or three letters to read to Aunt Esther. Here is one in which you will be interested, Gabrielle. The writer calls you familiarly 'Elite': I think he must have read that very accurate description of you that went the rounds of the papers last summer, in which you remember you are a shy and shrinking flaxen-haired fawn. He would be quite surprised, I think, if he could see what a majestic 'Elite' you are."

"ALLEGHANY CO. PENN.

"_To whom it may concern_:

"Know ye that I have had a desire to know more about the Greeley girls for several months, and that the desire for acquaintance became so strong after meeting your father and sister a few nights since (while sleeping) that I concluded to write.

"It seems to be Gabrielle's acquaintance I particularly desire, but she being young and inexperienced I address you as her natural guardian, allowing you to dispose of my communication as you think best.

"Being what some folks call an eccentric individual; feeling _lonely_ in the world, and believing, from what I know of the laws of Hereditary Descent and your parents that you and your sister must possess the n.o.blest natures; and believing that no harm but good--_at least to me_--can come from our acquaintance, I write to ask a correspondence.

"If you or 'Ellie' feel like sending a reply--well; if not, there shall be no hard feelings, but it would be a satisfaction to me to know that my letter had been received.

"Sincerely wis.h.i.+ng you and all the world all happiness, I close.

Accept my warmest sympathy in your bereavement, and believe me to be the friend of Humanity.

"VICTOR MELVIN.

"P.S. For reasons not necessary to mention, I write under an a.s.sumed name. _Write_, PLEASE."

The next one was from Chicago, addressed to Miss ida greeley. The writer said:

"I am about to pen you a few lines, hopeing you will not receive them in a contemptious manner, but rather in a business than a formal way.

"Pleas to put the form of introduction and society regulations aside, and consider your future happiness, pleasure and welfare only. I am well aware that you are very much anoid and persecuted, thereby I mean persistant attentions from undesirable persons; now my obgect at present is to aid you in a manner that you can soon and forever shut down on all disagreeable attentions.

"now I would suggest some beautiful locality in California or orogon there to live a quiet retired life free from former acquaintances and continnad anoyances. now if you think you could accept my services, they are honorably tendered and would be kindly and heartily given.

Pleas to inform me at the earliest conveniance. Pleas to not misinterpret my intentions.

"yours in sincerity

"pleas to

"Address -------- --------."

After listening to this extraordinary epistle, mamma said dryly:

"I think, my dear, that that is the strangest letter you have yet received."

"It is nothing, auntie," was the reply, "to one I have in reserve, in which the writer not only has a request to make, but actually proposes making me a present; it is _not_, however, his hand, for a wonder!"

"DEERLODGE, MONTANA.

"To MISS IDA GREELY:

"Young lady I suppose you will be surprised at receiving a letter from the frontier, my motive for writing is this. I am a mountaineer--that is a trapper a good many years ago I met with your father Horace Greely on the plains, and greatly admired the old gentleman. The way I came to make his acquaintance is this. A drunken, unruly Cuss seeing that your father appeared quiet and peaceable thought it safe to play the bully at his expence so he commenced to insult and threaten Mr. Greely in a pretty rough manner. Seeing that your father was quiet and peaceable and did not wish to quarrel with the Cuss I took the Cuss in hand, and spoiled his beauty for him, and taught him a lesson to mind his own business. Mr. Greely greatly overated the trifleing service I had done, he thanked me warmly, he became very friendly with me and gave me good advice. Among other things he advised me to do was to get a breach loading rifle instead of my muzlle loading rifle. I laughed at the idea I supposed my old muzlle loader was the best. Since then I have found out that Mr. Greely was right and that I was rong. Mr.

Greely at the time offered to purchase one and give it to me I refused to accept it. He then told me any time I changed my mind to let him know, and he would send me a good breech loading rifle. I have often thought about it since, but never wrote to him. My reasons for writing to you now are these; I and my partner Beaver Bob started down the Yellow Stone last fall to trap near the Big Horn river. We were pretty successful and made the Beaver mink martin and other vermin suffer--but one day we were attaced by a hunting party of 15 or 20 Ogallala Sioux.

In the fight my old partner Beaver bob was wiped out I was wounded but managed to make my escape and after a pretty hard time reached the Mission on the head of the Yellow Stone--I mean near the head. I lost my horses all my outfit in fact almost everything. When my ammunition was expended--I mean used up--I threw my rifle away and took to the brush and ran for it--I mean the chance of life. Lately I have heard that Mr. Greely has handed in his chips--that is pa.s.sed in his checks--I mean gone to limbo you know. I'm sorry for the old man but we must all go some time you know. and now miss what I want to know is will you instead of your father send me a breech loading rifle. If you do I shall be much obliged to you and if you don't I hope there is no harm done. The kind of rifle I want is one of Sharps new improved shooting rifles with a barrell 36 inches in length and a barrell 16 pound weight Calibre 44. They are mad in Sharps factory Connetticot in a place called Hartford. If one was sent to me by Wells and Fargoes express to Deerlodge city Montana Territory, I should get it. The name or rather the nickname by which I am known among mountain men is Death Rifle. The redskins I mean the Indians gave me that name many years in Dacotah Territtory and it stuck to me ever since. My right name is Hugh De Lacey so when you wish to adress or direct any thing to me direct to Hugh De Lacey, Deerlodge City, Montana. Miss Greely a great many eastern men we remarked seem to think that we mountaineers are to blame for having trouble with the redskins I can a.s.sure you we never bother the infernal vermin only when they bother us and that is pretty often for when they get a chance to go for our hair they take it no more at present I remain

"Yours respectfully

"HUGH DE LACEY.

"N.B. I have heard you eastern ladies are in the habit of useing a deal of false hair in your toilets if you choose miss Greely I will send you a lot of Indians hair any time you want it. I remain yours respectfully

"HUGH DE LACEY."

"It reads like a chapter from one of Cooper's novels," said mamma, "and the romantic name of Hugh De Lacey would be more appropriate to the handsome young descendant of some old Huguenot refugee family than such a rough trapper as your correspondent 'Death Rifle;' but the present he offers you is most singularly inappropriate; no one who had ever seen your wealth of hair, my child, would think of presenting you with a chignon;" and as she spoke she loosened and shook out Ida's heavy cl.u.s.ters of hair, which, released from their orderly Marguerite braids, swept over her black dress like a tawny mantle.

[1] I insert this and the subsequent letters precisely as they are written, merely withholding some of the signatures.

CHAPTER XV.

Life in the Woods of Pennsylvania--Journey from Vermont to Pennsylvania in 1826--Travelling on Ca.n.a.l-boats--Incidents by the Way--Home in the Wilderness--Aggressions of Bears and Wolves.

_July 14_.

"Aunt Esther, in all the stories of your early days that you have told us, you have not yet described your life in Pennsylvania," said Ida one evening, when we were gathered about the piano. "Do tell us about it.

You have once or twice merely alluded to living in the woods, and my curiosity is quite excited. Were they veritable forests? I do not remember hearing papa say much about them."

Mamma smiled sadly.

"What makes you think of Pennsylvania to-night, my child?" she asked.

"I do not know, auntie," was the reply, "unless perhaps it was hearing Cecilia sing 'My love is like the red, red rose.' You told me, I remember, that grandmamma used often to sing that pretty little Scotch ballad."

"Yes, it was one of mother's favorite songs," said mamma. "I can remember perfectly the way she used to sing it. Not in your English version, Cecilia, but with Burns' own Scotch words, and in her sweet, low voice, with a ring of pa.s.sion that one rarely hears in a drawing-room at the present day. As Charles Reade says of one of his heroines, 'She sung the music for the sake of the words, not the words for the sake of the music--which is something very rare.'

"I am not surprised that you have never heard your papa say much of our life in Pennsylvania, for you remember that he did not accompany us there, but only made us occasional visits. Before we left Vermont father had already apprenticed him, at his earnest desire, to the publishers of the _North American Spectator_, at Poultney, and brother Barnes (who is fifteen months his junior) then took his place in the household. I think that your papa had been some time in the _Spectator_ office before our departure for the woods, in September."