ill success, he did not know. He had read Mrs. Bradstreet's poems, who, in her day, was styled "the mirror of her age and the glory of her sex"—he had much admired the poetry of George Wolcott, but he was completely intoxicated with the "Simple Cobbler of Agawam," by Nathanial Ward, although he did not adopt its fanatical sentiments; the Revolutionary poets he had by heart, and for the reputation of Freneau, he would have abandoned the fame of Shakespeare, had he possessed the power of choice. He had at one time secluded himself from all of his acquaintances for a month or two; and at last, when he emerged from his solitude, he was seen with a quantity of manuscript, which he read to his most intimate friends with exceedingly rhapsodical gestures. It was even thought that this manuscript had been offered to some publisher, but as its contents whatever they were, never appeared in print, it was well understood that it had been rejected. It is certain, that from this time he abandoned all ideas of winning a literary reputation, and set earnestly to work to win the fortune of which he had so long been dreaming. But Ichabod, with an innate love for the jingle of rhyme, could, even at this day, repeat enough of the lyrical poetry of the country to endanger the patience and temper of his warmest friend.
After attempting, at Boston, many schemes for the sudden acquisition of wealth, which had all resulted in failure, he had, some time previous to the war, shaken off the dust of the (to him) unprosperous city, and traveled westward in search of a more congenial spot, where the resources of his mind could be developed.
He had finally located at one of the frontier settlements in the State of New York—a small, but growing place—and unencumbered by wife or family, he fancied himself certain of success at last. He had at one time taken a trip to the shores of Long Island Sound, for the purpose of making inquiry as to the prospect of realizing anything from the buried money of Capt. Kidd; but he returned somewhat poorer than he left. One time, while wandering on the shore of a small creek, in his own neighborhood, devising means for the expenditure of his wealth when it should be obtained, he was suddenly arrested by the glitter of some fine, shining particles, in the sand. Certain that he had at length discovered a gold mine, the land was purchased by him on contract, at an extravagant price, by turning out what little money and few valuables he possessed. His mysterious appearance and conduct, attracted towards him the attention of the whole settlement; it was whispered that he was always out of his boarding-house at night, and that he invariably slept a portion of the day. He had been heard, too, to hint, in a solemn manner, of his taking up his residence at Boston or New York, and of building half a dozen blocks of brick buildings, and living in a style of splendor that should astonish his early acquaintances, who had always enviously predicted that he would never amount to anything. The consequence was, that after much managing and prying, Ichabod's mine was discovered, and the whole settlement rushed—men, women and children—to share his good fortune. Trespass suits followed thick and fast, and at length it was discovered that the glittering particles which had been gathered so eagerly, were worth just as much as the sand in which they were imbedded, and no more. The result of this speculation was, that Ichabod lost both his gold and his land, and the little money he had previously possessed.
But nothing disheartened, other schemes filled his mind; and he was always the surest of success, just as he was the most certain to be unsuccessful. Ichabod was altogether too busy in his financial operations to volunteer as a soldier during the Revolutionary War, although he had cast around earnestly to ascertain if there was any way by which he could make his business and patriotism harmonize together. But while he had refused to sacrifice his chances of a fortune by taking up arms as a soldier, to his credit be it said, that in the frequent Indian incursions which had been made on the frontier settlements of New York, he had zealously engaged in the plans of defense, and had won an enviable notoriety as an Indian fighter. Always cool and calculating, he never suffered himself to be surprised; and he came at last to be dreaded by the Indians, as bearing a charmed life, which could not be taken. More than one Seneca, who had escaped from his rifle, bore the marks of his bullets; and his name was never mentioned by them but with a look of hatred. This feeling was cordially reciprocated; and even a lucky chance at a fortune could scarcely have deterred him from an attack, even in a time of peace, upon an Onondaga, Cayuga, or Seneca.
But with the return of peace, all ideas of war had vanished, and he now felt that it was necessary to make a desperate effort for the fortune which had been so long delayed. But it was necessary to possess some little capital; and with the view of laying the foundation for the capital desired, he had embraced the opportunity of guiding Ralph Weston on his journey, which was now nearly completed. He also had an idea about a speculation which he wished to look after; but of that hereafter.
Armed with a rifle, which had been his constant companion in his encounters with the Indians, and with a hunting-knife which he wore in a leathern belt, it would have been difficult for a stranger to have pronounced his vocation. There was little in his figure or appearance which would have indicated the habits of a borderer of the period, yet one would scarcely have ventured to guess at any other calling or profession.
His hair, which was long and straight, and originally of a brownish color, had become grizzly, and flowed from under his cap without order or regularity. His face was embrowned by long exposure to the extremes of weather, while its expression had a rigidity that was scarcely ever discomposed. His eyes were of a grayish cast, and seemed always to be on the alert, to detect dangers that might threaten either his person, or the mental treasures which were just ready to be coined.
The travelers journeyed in a sort of path, which had evidently been made some time before, but which had been little used. Occasionally, a tree that could not be avoided had been felled, and the stump wholly or partially removed; and often the path was obstructed by the trunk of a decayed tree, which had fallen from old age, or had been overthrown by the violence of the winds.
"Well, Ichabod," said Ralph, after the travelers had paused a while to survey the valley which now opened upon their view, "we must be near our journey's end. From the indications you gave me, we cannot be more than a mile distant, at farthest."
"I should say not, Captain," replied Ichabod; "I was never hereabouts but once before, and then I reckon we made something of a spec in the way of Injins. The varmints! but they are a long way off now, I reckon."
"I have never heard," said Ralph, "that any battles of consequence were fought in this section of the State. This region is too distant from the settlements, and too much of a wilderness, to have been the scene of any important conflict."
"I can't say, Captain, how important it may or mayn't have been to the country at large; but this I do calculate, that it was mighty important to them that had the fighting on't. Three Injins to one man, sartin; and they fought like devils, as they were, confound 'em! Why, Captain, if you'll believe it, one of them red rascals and I ra'ally had a pitched battle for the ownership of this here companion of mine," pointing to his rifle; "but we taught the cussed red-skins better manners. We don't part company so easy;" and Ichabod grasped his rifle with a still firmer hand; and then half said and half sung, from the old ballad of "Lovewell's fight,"
"'For, as we are informed,
So thick and fast they fell,
Scarce twenty of their number
At night did get home well.'"
"I supposed," said Ralph, "that this country, through which we are now traveling, was in the possession of the friendly Oneidas and Tuscaroras?"
"Yes, it was in their possession," answered Ichabod, "except when it was overrun by those devils of Senecas or Onondagas and that was pretty tolerably often. They got lots of scalps, sometimes, and sometimes they lost their own. The Tryon County boys, when they had a fair chance at 'em, always paid 'em off with interest. As the poet said:
"'Come all you Tryon County men,
And never be dismayed;
But trust sincerely in the Lord,
And He will be your aid.'"
"But, as I ginerally found, they had to trust a good deal to their rifles."
"I had heard of the sufferings of the people at the settlements," said Ralph, "and knew the fact that many sharp battles, which are little known