Adèle Dubois. Mrs. William T. Savage
Adèle called him to the breakfast-table.
Mrs. McNab not having made her appearance, he inquired if any tidings had been heard from the sick-room. Mrs. Dubois replied, that she had listened at the door and hearing no sound, concluded Mr. Brown was quiet under the influence of the sleeping powder, and consequently, she did not run the risk of disturbing him by going in.
"Should Aunt Patty happen to begin snoring in her chair, as she often does", said Adèle, "Mr. Brown would be obliged to wake up. I defy any one to sleep when she gets into one of those fits".
"Adèle", said her father, while a smile played round his mouth and twinkled in his usually grave eyes, "can't you let Mrs. McNab have any peace?"
"Is Mr. Brown a friend of yours?" inquired Mr. Norton of his host.
"I met him for the first time at Fredericton. He was at the hotel when I arrived there. We accidentally fell into conversation one evening. He made, then and subsequently, many inquiries about this region, and when I was ready to start for home, said that, with my permission, he would travel with me. I fancy", Mr. Dubois added, "he was somewhat ill when we left, but he did not speak of it. We had a rough journey and I think the exposure to which he was subjected has increased his sickness. If he proves to be no better to-day, I shall send Micah for Dr. Wright", said he, turning to his wife. "I hope you will, father", said Adèle, speaking very decidedly. "I should be sorry to have him consigned over wholly to the tender mercies of Mrs. McNab".
"Mr. Dubois", said the missionary, laying down his knife and fork, suddenly, "I must confess, I am perfectly surprised to find such a family as yours in this place. From previous report, and indeed from my own observation in reaching here, I had received the idea, that the inhabitants were not only a wicked, but a very rude and uncouth set of people".
"Whatever may be your opinion of ourselves, sir", replied his host, "you are not far amiss in regard to the character of the people. They are, in general, a rough set".
"Well, sir", said Mr. Norton, "as an honest man, I must inform you, that I came here with a purpose in view. I have a message to this people—a message of love and mercy; and I trust it will not be displeasing to you, if I promulgate it in this neighborhood".
"I do not understand your meaning", said Mr. Dubois.
"I wish, sir, to teach these people, some of the truths of morality and religion such as are found in the Bible. I have ventured to guess that you and your family are of the Roman Catholic faith".
"We belong to the communion of that church, sir".
"That being the case, and thinking you may have some interest in this matter, I would say, that I wish to make an attempt to teach the knowledge of divine things to this people, hoping thereby to raise them from their present state to something better and holier".
"A worthy object, sir, but altogether a hopeless one. You have no idea of the condition of the settlers here. You cannot get a hearing. They scoff at such things utterly", said Mr. Dubois.
"Is there any objection in your own mind against an endeavor to enlist their interest?" asked Mr. Norton.
"Not the least", said Mr. Dubois.
"Then I will try to collect the people together and tell them my views and wishes. Is there any man here having influence with this class, who would be willing to aid me in this movement?"
Mr. Dubois meditated.
"I do not know of one, sir", he said. "They all drink, swear, gamble, and profane holy things, and seem to have no respect for either God or man".
"It is too true", remarked Mrs. Dubois.
"Now, father", said Adèle, assuming an air of wisdom, that sat rather comically on her youthful brow, "I think Micah Mummychog would be just the person to help this gentleman".
"Micah Mummychog!" exclaimed Mr. Norton, throwing himself back in his chair and shaking out of his lungs a huge, involuntary haw, haw, "where does the person you speak of hail from to own such a name as that, my dear child?"
"I rather think he came from Yankee land—from your part of the country, sir", said Adèle, mischievously.
"Ah, well", said Mr. Norton, with another peal of laughter, "we do have some curious names in our parts".
"Micah Mummychog!" exclaimed Mr. Dubois, "what are you thinking of, Adèle? Why, the fellow drinks and swears as hard as the rest of them".
"Not quite", persisted the child, "and besides, he has some good about him, I know".
"What have you seen good about him, pray?" said her father.
"Why, you remember that when I discovered the little girl floating down the river, Micah took his boat and went out to bring her ashore. He took the body, dripping, in his arms, carried it to his house, and laid it down as tenderly as if it had been his own sister. He asked me to please go and get Mrs. McNab to come and prepare it for burial. The little thing, he said, was entirely dead and gone. I started to go, as he wished, but happened to think I would just step back and look at the sweet face once more. When I opened the door, Micah was bending over it, with his eyes full of tears. When I asked, what is the matter, Micah? he said he was thinking of a little sister of his that was drowned just so in the Kennebec River, many years ago".
"That showed some feeling, certainly", said Mrs. Dubois.
"Then, too, I know", continued Adèle, "that the people here like him. If any one can get them together, Micah can".
"Well!" said Mr. Dubois looking at his child with a fond pride, yet as if doubting whether she were not already half spoiled, "it seems you are the wiseacre of the family. I know Micah has always been a favorite of yours. Perhaps the gentleman will give your views some consideration".
"Father", replied Adèle, "I have only said what I think about it".
"I'll try what I can do with Micah Mummychog", said Mr. Norton decidedly, and the conversation ended.
CHAPTER IV.
MICAH MUMMYCHOG.
About ten years before the period when this narrative begins, Micah Mummychog had come to this country from the Kennebec River, in the State of Maine.
He soon purchased a dozen acres of land, partially cleared them, and built a large-sized, comfortable log house. It was situated not far from the Dubois house, at a short distance from the bank of the river, and on the edge of a grove of forest trees.
Micah inhabited his house usually only a few months during the year, as he was a cordial lover of the unbroken wilderness, and was as migratory in his habits as the native Indian. On the morning after the events related in the last chapter, he happened to be at home. While Adèle was guiding the missionary to his cottage, he was sitting in his kitchen, which also served for a general reception room, burnishing up an old Dutch fowling-piece.
The apartment was furnished with cooking utensils, and coarse wooden furniture; the walls hung around with fishing tackle, moose-horns, skins of wild animals and a variety of firearms.
Micah was no common, stupid, bumpkin-looking person. Belonging to the genus Yankee, he had yet a few peculiar traits of his own. He had a smallish, bullet-shaped head, set, with dignified poise, on a pair of wide, flat shoulders. His chest was broad and swelling, his limbs straight, muscular, and strong. His eyes were large, round, and blue. When his mind was in a state of repose and his countenance at rest, they had a solemn, owl-like expression. But when in an excited, observant mood, they were keen and searching; and human orbs surely never expressed more rollicking