The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lost Hunter, by John Turvill Adams

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Title: The Lost Hunter A Tale of Early Times

Author: John Turvill Adams

Release Date: March 11, 2005 [EBook #15328]

Language: English

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THE LOST HUNTER.

A Tale of Early Times.

  "And still her grey rocks tower above the sea
     That murmurs at their feet, a conquered wave;
  'Tis a rough land of earth, and stone, and tree,
     Where breathes no castled lord or cabined slave;
  Where thoughts, and tongues, and hands, are bold and free,
     And friends will find a welcome, foes a grave;
  And where none kneel, save when to heaven they pray,
  Nor even then, unless in their own way."
                                            HALLECK

NEW YORK:

   DERBY & JACKSON, 119 NASSAU STREET.
        CINCINNATI:—H.W. DERBY.

1856.

ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by

J.C. DERBY,

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.

W.H. TINSON, Stereotyper.

PUDNEY & RUSSELL Printers.

APOLOGY

As one might justly be considered a clown, or, at least, not well bred, who, without tapping at the door, or making a bow, or saying "By your leave," or some other token of respect, should burst in upon a company of persons unknown to him, and instead of a welcome would deserve an unceremonious invitation to betake himself elsewhere forthwith; so, I suppose, in presenting myself before you, my honored Public, it is no more than civil to say something by way of introduction. At least, I have observed from my obscure retreat in the quiet village of Addlebrains, that the fashion in this respect, which has prevailed, certainly, since the time of St. Luke, who commences his Gospel with a preface to Theophilus, has come down to the present day, differing therein from other fashions, which, for the most part, are as transitory as the flowers of the field, and commending itself thereby to the thoughtful consideration of the judicious; for it cannot be deemed there is no value in that which has received the sanction of centuries. Influenced by reflections of this description and the like, I sat down one day in the little retreat, which the indulgent partiality of my friends is accustomed to dignify with the title of my "study," to endeavor to write a preface, and introduce myself in a becoming manner to my readers. I was the more anxious to do this properly, because, although a mere countryman, a sort of cowhide shoe, as I may say, and therefore lacking that gloss, which, like the polish on a well-brushed boot, distinguishes and illustrates the denizens of our metropolis in an eminent degree, as I know from personal experience, having been twice in New York, and, as I am told, also, the citizens of Boston and Philadelphia, and other provincial towns, with a milder lustre, I would not like to be supposed entirely destitute of refinement. It would be strange if I were, inasmuch as I enjoyed in my youth, the privilege of two terms and a half instruction in the dancing school of that incomparable professor of the Terpsichorean science, the accomplished Monsieur St. Leger Pied. It is in consequence of this early training, perhaps, that I am always pained when there is any deflection or turning aside from, or neglect of, the graceful, the becoming, and the proper.

It will be observed that my last quarter was cut short in the middle; which untoward event arose from no arrogance or supercilious conceit on my part, as though I had perfected myself in the mysteries of pigeon-wing and balancez, but from the abrupt departure of the professor himself, who, true to the name indicative of his constitutional levity, found it convenient to disappear betwixt two days, with the advance pay of my whole term in his pocket, and without stopping to make even one of his uncommonly genteel bows. The circumstance was peculiarly disagreeable to me, in consequence of the school being assembled when our loss was discovered, and of my having succeeded in engaging, for the greater part of the evening, the hand of a young lady, whose charms had made a deep (though, as subsequent events proved, not a durable) impression on my susceptible heart. Monsieur was our only musician, and, of course, with his violin went the dancing. The cause of his evasion or flight was variously accounted for, some ascribing it to a debt he had contracted for kid gloves and pumps, and others to dread of the wrath of a young gentleman, whose sister he had been so imprudent as to kiss in the presence of another girl, not remarkable for personal attractions, to whom he had never paid the same compliment. As was to be expected, she was scandalized at the impropriety and want of taste, and immediately made it known, in spite of the entreaties of the blushing beauty and the "pardons" of Monsieur. As Virgilius has it,

    "Manet altã mente i epõstum,
  Judicium Paridis spretæque injuria formæ."

In my opinion, it was the kiss that cost poor Monsieur Pied his school, and me a dollar and a half, three dollars being the price for a term's instruction. Not, I beg to be understood, that I care anything about the money, but in relating an event I like to be circumstantial and strictly accurate. But I find that, wiled away by the painfully pleasing reminiscences of my youth, I am wandering from my undertaking, which is, not to narrate the misadventures of a dancing-master, but to compose a preface.

I had seated myself, as I was saying, in my little den or confugium, where, as in a haven of rest, I love to hide myself from the distractions of the world, and concentrate my thoughts, and which has been to me the scene of many sad as well as pleasant hours, and dipped my goose quill (anathema maranatha on steel pens, which I cannot help fancying, impart a portion of their own rigidity to style, for if the stylus be made of steel is it not natural that the style by derivation and propinquity should be hard?) into the ink-stand, after first casting my eyes on the busts of Shakespeare and Milton, which, cast in plaster, adorn my retirement, half imploring them to assist in so important an enterprise, when the door opened, and who should enter but my dear friend, the Rev. Increase Grace? But here let me remark parenthetically, the habit of dealing in parentheses being one I especially dislike, only necessity compelling me thereto, and before I proceed further, that the word "confugium," which, both on account of its terse expressiveness, as well as its curiosa felicitas in the present application, I have chosen in order to define my den, has not, I hope, escaped the notice of the discriminating scholar. Moreover, I trust that I shall not incur the imputation of vanity if I take to myself some little credit for the selection. It will