The Next Morning, At The Very Same Hour, Brian Again Made His
Appearance; But Instead Of The Rifle Across His
Shoulder, a large
stone jar occupied the place, suspended by a stout leather thong.
Without saying a word, but with
A truly benevolent smile, that
flitted slowly over his stern features, and lighted them up, like
a sunbeam breaking from beneath a stormy cloud, he advanced to the
table, and unslinging the jar, set it down before me, and in a low
and gruff, but by no means an unfriendly voice, said, "Milk, for
the child," and vanished.
"How good it was of him! How kind!" I exclaimed, as I poured the
precious gift of four quarts of pure new milk out into a deep pan.
I had not asked him - had never said that the poor weanling wanted
milk. It was the courtesy of a gentleman - of a man of benevolence
and refinement.
For weeks did my strange, silent friend steal in, take up the empty
jar, and supply its place with another replenished with milk. The
baby knew his step, and would hold out her hands to him and cry,
"Milk!" and Brian would stoop down and kiss her, and his two great
dogs lick her face.
"Have you any children, Mr. B - -?"
"Yes, five; but none like this."
"My little girl is greatly indebted to you for your kindness."
"She's welcome, or she would not get it. You are strangers; but I
like you all. You look kind, and I would like to know more about
you."
Moodie shook hands with the old hunter, and assured him that we
should always be glad to see him. After this invitation, Brian
became a frequent guest. He would sit and listen with delight to
Moodie while he described to him elephant-hunting at the Cape;
grasping his rifle in a determined manner, and whistling an
encouraging air to his dogs. I asked him one evening what made
him so fond of hunting.
"'Tis the excitement," he said; "it drowns thought, and I love to
be alone. I am sorry for the creatures, too, for they are free and
happy; yet I am led by an instinct I cannot restrain to kill them.
Sometimes the sight of their dying agonies recalls painful feelings;
and then I lay aside the gun, and do not hunt for days. But 'tis
fine to be alone with God in the great woods - to watch the sunbeams
stealing through the thick branches, the blue sky breaking in upon
you in patches, and to know that all is bright and shiny above you,
in spite of the gloom that surrounds you."
After a long pause, he continued, with much solemn feeling in his
look and tone -
"I lived a life of folly for years, for I was respectably born and
educated, and had seen something of the world, perhaps more than was
good, before I left home for the woods; and from the teaching I had
received from kind relatives and parents I should have known how to
have conducted myself better. But, madam, if we associate long with
the depraved and ignorant, we learn to become even worse than they
are. I felt deeply my degradation - felt that I had become the slave
to low vice; and in order to emancipate myself from the hateful
tyranny of evil passions, I did a very rash and foolish thing. I
need not mention the manner in which I transgressed God's holy laws;
all the neighbours know it, and must have told you long ago. I could
have borne reproof, but they turned my sorrow into indecent jests,
and, unable to bear their coarse ridicule, I made companions of my
dogs and gun, and went forth into the wilderness. Hunting became a
habit. I could no longer live without it, and it supplies the
stimulant which I lost when I renounced the cursed whiskey bottle.
"I remember the first hunting excursion I took alone in the forest.
How sad and gloomy I felt! I thought that there was no creature in
the world so miserable as myself. I was tired and hungry, and I sat
down upon a fallen tree to rest. All was still as death around me,
and I was fast sinking to sleep, when my attention was aroused by
a long, wild cry. My dog, for I had not Chance then, and he's no
hunter, pricked up his ears, but instead of answering with a bark of
defiance, he crouched down, trembling, at my feet. 'What does this
mean?' I cried, and I cocked my rifle and sprang upon the log. The
sound came nearer upon the wind. It was like the deep baying of a
pack of hounds in full cry. Presently a noble deer rushed past me,
and fast upon his trail - I see them now, like so many black
devils - swept by a pack of ten or fifteen large, fierce wolves, with
fiery eyes and bristling hair, and paws that seemed hardly to touch
the ground in their eager haste. I thought not of danger, for, with
their prey in view, I was safe; but I felt every nerve within me
tremble for the fate of the poor deer. The wolves gained upon him
at every bound. A close thicket intercepted his path, and, rendered
desperate, he turned at bay. His nostrils were dilated, and his
eyes seemed to send forth long streams of light. It was wonderful
to witness the courage of the beast. How bravely he repelled the
attacks of his deadly enemies, how gallantly he tossed them to the
right and left, and spurned them from beneath his hoofs; yet all
his struggles were useless, and he was quickly overcome and torn
to pieces by his ravenous foes. At that moment he seemed more
unfortunate than even myself, for I could not see in what manner he
had deserved his fate. All his speed and energy, his courage and
fortitude, had been exerted in vain.
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