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Books: Oak Openings

J >> James Fenimore Cooper >> Oak Openings



This text was produced by Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team




OAK OPENINGS

JAMES FENNIMORE COOPER




PREFACE.

It ought to be matter of surprise how men live in the midst of
marvels, without taking heed of their existence. The slightest
derangement of their accustomed walks in political or social life
shall excite all their wonder, and furnish themes for their
discussions, for months; while the prodigies that come from above
are presented daily to their eyes, and are received without
surprise, as things of course. In a certain sense, this may be well
enough, inasmuch as all which comes directly from the hands of the
Creator may be said so far to exceed the power of human
comprehension, as to be beyond comment; but the truth would show us
that the cause of this neglect is rather a propensity to dwell on
such interests as those over which we have a fancied control, than
on those which confessedly transcend our understanding. Thus is it
ever with men. The wonders of creation meet them at every turn,
without awakening reflection, while their minds labor on subjects
that are not only ephemeral and illusory, but which never attain an
elevation higher than that the most sordid interests can bestow.

For ourselves, we firmly believe that the finger of Providence is
pointing the way to all races, and colors, and nations, along the
path that is to lead the east and the west alike to the great goal
of human wants. Demons infest that path, and numerous and unhappy
are the wanderings of millions who stray from its course; sometimes
in reluctance to proceed; sometimes in an indiscreet haste to move
faster than their fellows, and always in a forgetfulness of the
great rules of conduct that have been handed down from above.
Nevertheless, the main course is onward; and the day, in the sense
of time, is not distant, when the whole earth is to be filled with
the knowledge of the Lord, "as the waters cover the sea."

One of the great stumbling-blocks with a large class of well-
meaning, but narrow-judging moralists, are the seeming wrongs that
are permitted by Providence, in its control of human events. Such
persons take a one-sided view of things, and reduce all principles
to the level of their own understandings. If we could comprehend the
relations which the Deity bears to us, as well as we can comprehend
the relations we bear to him, there might be a little seeming reason
in these doubts; but when one of the parties in this mighty scheme
of action is a profound mystery to the other, it is worse than idle,
it is profane, to attempt to explain those things which our minds
are not yet sufficiently cleared from the dross of earth to
understand. Look at Italy, at this very moment. The darkness and
depression from which that glorious peninsula is about to emerge are
the fruits of long-continued dissensions and an iron despotism,
which is at length broken by the impulses left behind him by a
ruthless conqueror, who, under the appearance and the phrases of
Liberty, contended only for himself. A more concentrated egotism
than that of Napoleon probably never existed; yet has it left behind
it seeds of personal rights that have sprung up by the wayside, and
which are likely to take root with a force that will bid defiance to
eradication. Thus is it ever, with the progress of society. Good
appears to arise out of evil, and the inscrutable ways of Providence
are vindicated by general results, rather than by instances of
particular care. We leave the application of these remarks to the
intelligence of such of our readers as may have patience to peruse
the work that will be found in the succeeding pages.

We have a few words of explanation to say, in connection with the
machinery of our tale. In the first place, we would remark, that the
spelling of "burr-oak," as given in this book, is less our own than
an office spelling. We think it should be "bur-oak," and this for
the simple reason, that the name is derived from the fact that the
acorn borne by this tree is partially covered with a bur. Old Sam
Johnson, however, says that "burr" means the lobe, or lap of the
ear; and those who can fancy such a resemblance between this and the
covering of our acorn, are at liberty to use the two final
consonants. Having commenced stereotyping with this supernumerary,
for the sake of uniformity that mode of spelling, wrong as we think
it, has been continued through-out the book.

There is nothing imaginary in the fertility of the West. Personal
observation has satisfied us that it much surpasses anything that
exists in the Atlantic States, unless in exceptions, through the
agency of great care and high manuring, or in instances of peculiar
natural soil. In these times, men almost fly. We have passed over a
thousand miles of territory within the last few days, and have
brought the pictures at the two extremes of this journey in close
proximity in our mind's eye. Time may lessen that wonderful
fertility, and bring the whole country more on a level; but there it
now is, a glorious gift from God, which it is devoutly to be wished
may be accepted with due gratitude and with a constant recollection
of his unwavering rules of right and wrong, by those who have been
selected to enjoy it.

June, 1848.




THE OAK OPENINGS.


CHAPTER I.

How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day,
From every opening flower.
WATTS' HYMNS FOR CHILDREN.

We have heard of those who fancied that they beheld a signal
instance of the hand of the Creator in the celebrated cataract of
Niagara. Such instances of the power of sensible and near objects to
influence certain minds, only prove how much easier it is to impress
the imaginations of the dull with images that are novel, than with
those that are less apparent, though of infinitely greater
magnitude. Thus it would seem to be strange indeed, that any human
being should find more to wonder at in any one of the phenomena of
the earth, than in the earth itself; or should especially stand
astonished at the might of Him who created the world, when each
night brings into view a firmament studded with other worlds, each
equally the work of His hands!

Nevertheless, there is (at bottom) a motive for adoration, in the
study of the lowest fruits of the wisdom and power of God. The leaf
is as much beyond our comprehension of remote causes, as much a
subject of intelligent admiration, as the tree which bears it: the
single tree confounds our knowledge and researches the same as the
entire forest; and, though a variety that appears to be endless
pervades the world, the same admirable adaptation of means to ends,
the same bountiful forethought, and the same benevolent wisdom, are
to be found in the acorn, as in the gnarled branch on which it grew.

The American forest has so often been described, as to cause one to
hesitate about reviving scenes that might possibly pall, and in
retouching pictures that have been so frequently painted as to be
familiar to every mind. But God created the woods, and the themes
bestowed by his bounty are inexhaustible. Even the ocean, with its
boundless waste of water, has been found to be rich in its various
beauties and marvels; and he who shall bury himself with us, once
more, in the virgin forests of this widespread land, may possibly
discover new subjects of admiration, new causes to adore the Being
that has brought all into existence, from the universe to its most
minute particle.

The precise period of our legend was in the year 1812, and the
season of the year the pleasant month of July, which had now drawn
near to its close. The sun was already approaching the western
limits of a wooded view, when the actors in its opening scene must
appear on a stage that is worthy of a more particular description.

The region was, in one sense, wild, though it offered a picture that
was not without some of the strongest and most pleasing features of
civilization. The country was what is termed "rolling," from some
fancied resemblance to the surface of the ocean, when it is just
undulating with a long "ground-swell."

Although wooded, it was not, as the American forest is wont to grow,
with tail straight trees towering toward the light, but with
intervals between the low oaks that were scattered profusely over
the view, and with much of that air of negligence that one is apt to
see in grounds where art is made to assume the character of nature.
The trees, with very few exceptions, were what is called the "burr-
oak," a small variety of a very extensive genus; and the spaces
between them, always irregular, and often of singular beauty, have
obtained the name of "openings"; the two terms combined giving their
appellation to this particular species of native forest, under the
name of "Oak Openings."

These woods, so peculiar to certain districts of country, are not
altogether without some variety, though possessing a general
character of sameness. The trees were of very uniform size, being
little taller than pear-trees, which they resemble a good deal in
form; and having trunks that rarely attain two feet in diameter. The
variety is produced by their distribution. In places they stand with
a regularity resembling that of an orchard; then, again, they are
more scattered and less formal, while wide breadths of the land are
occasionally seen in which they stand in copses, with vacant spaces,
that bear no small affinity to artificial lawns, being covered with
verdure. The grasses are supposed to be owing to the fires lighted
periodically by the Indians in order to clear their hunting-grounds.

Toward one of these grassy glades, which was spread on an almost
imperceptible acclivity, and which might have contained some fifty
or sixty acres of land, the reader is now requested to turn his
eyes. Far in the wilderness as was the spot, four men were there,
and two of them had even some of the appliances of civilization
about them. The woods around were the then unpeopled forest of
Michigan; and the small winding reach of placid water that was just
visible in the distance, was an elbow of the Kalamazoo, a beautiful
little river that flows westward, emptying its tribute into the vast
expanse of Lake Michigan. Now, this river has already become known,
by its villages and farms, and railroads and mills; but then, not a
dwelling of more pretension than the wigwam of the Indian, or an
occasional shanty of some white adventurer, had ever been seen on
its banks. In that day, the whole of that fine peninsula, with the
exception of a narrow belt of country along the Detroit River, which
was settled by the French as far back as near the close of the
seventeenth century, was literally a wilderness. If a white man
found his way into it, it was as an Indian trader, a hunter, or an
adventurer in some other of the pursuits connected with border life
and the habits of the savages.

Of this last character were two of the men on the open glade just
mentioned, while their companions were of the race of the
aborigines. What is much more remarkable, the four were absolutely
strangers to each other's faces, having met for the first time in
their lives, only an hour previously to the commencement of our
tale. By saying that they were strangers to each other, we do not
mean that the white men were acquaintances, and the Indians
strangers, but that neither of the four had ever seen either of the
party until they met on that grassy glade, though fame had made them
somewhat acquainted through their reputations. At the moment when we
desire to present this group to the imagination of the reader, three
of its number were grave and silent observers of the movements of
the fourth. The fourth individual was of middle size, young, active,
exceedingly well formed, and with a certain open and frank
expression of countenance, that rendered him at least well-looking,
though slightly marked with the small-pox. His real name was
Benjamin Boden, though he was extensively known throughout the
northwestern territories by the sobriquet of Ben Buzz--extensively
as to distances, if not as to people. By the voyageurs, and other
French of that region, he was almost universally styled le Bourdon^
or the "Drone"; not, however, from his idleness or inactivity, but
from the circumstances that he was notorious for laying his hands on
the products of labor that proceeded from others. In a word, Ben
Boden was a "bee-hunter," and as he was one of the first to exercise
his craft in that portion of the country, so was he infinitely the
most skilful and prosperous. The honey of le Bourdon was not only
thought to be purer and of higher flavor than that of any other
trader in the article, but it was much the most abundant. There were
a score of respectable families on the two banks of the Detroit, who
never purchased of any one else, but who patiently waited for the
arrival of the capacious bark canoe of Buzz, in the autumn, to lay
in their supplies of this savory nutriment for the approaching
winter. The whole family of griddle cakes, including those of
buckwheat, Indian rice, and wheaten flour, were more or less
dependent on the safe arrival of le Bourdon, for their popularity
and welcome. Honey was eaten with all; and wild honey had a
reputation, rightfully or not obtained, that even rendered it more
welcome than that which was formed by the labor and art of the
domesticated bee.

The dress of le Bourdon was well adapted to his pursuits and life.
He wore a hunting-shirt and trousers, made of thin stuff, which was
dyed green, and trimmed with yellow fringe. This was the ordinary
forest attire of the American rifleman; being of a character, as it
was thought, to conceal the person in the woods, by blending its
hues with those of the forest. On his head Ben wore a skin cap,
somewhat smartly made, but without the fur; the weather being warm.
His moccasins were a good deal wrought, but seemed to be fading
under the exposure of many marches. His arms were excellent; but all
his martial accoutrements, even to a keen long-bladed knife, were
suspended from the rammer of his rifle; the weapon itself being
allowed to lean, in careless confidence, against the trunk of the
nearest oak, as if their master felt there was no immediate use for
them.

Not so with the other three. Not only was each man well armed, but
each man kept his trusty rifle hugged to his person, in a sort of
jealous watchfulness; while the other white man, from time to time,
secretly, but with great minuteness, examined the flint and priming
of his own piece.

This second pale-face was a very different person from him just
described. He was still young, tall, sinewy, gaunt, yet springy and
strong, stooping and round-shouldered, with a face that carried a
very decided top-light in it, like that of the notorious Bardolph.
In short, whiskey had dyed the countenance of Gershom Waring with a
tell-tale hue, that did not less infallibly betray his destination
than his speech denoted his origin, which was clearly from one of
the States of New England. But Gershom had been so long at the
Northwest as to have lost many of his peculiar habits and opinions,
and to have obtained substitutes.

Of the Indians, one, an elderly, wary, experienced warrior, was a
Pottawattamie, named Elksfoot, who was well known at all the
trading-houses and "garrisons" of the northwestern territory,
including Michigan as low down as Detroit itself. The other red man
was a young Chippewa, or O-jeb-way, as the civilized natives of that
nation now tell us the word should be spelled. His ordinary
appellation among his own people was that of Pigeonswing; a name
obtained from the rapidity and length of his flights. This young
man, who was scarcely turned of five-and-twenty, had already
obtained a high reputation among the numerous tribes of his nation,
as a messenger, or "runner."

Accident had brought these four persons, each and all strangers to
one another, in communication in the glade of the Oak Openings,
which has already been mentioned, within half an hour of the scene
we are about to present to the reader. Although the rencontre had
been accompanied by the usual precautions of those who meet in a
wilderness, it had been friendly so far; a circumstance that was in
some measure owing to the interest they all took in the occupation
of the bee-hunter. The three others, indeed, had come in on
different trails, and surprised le Bourdon in the midst of one of
the most exciting exhibitions of his art--an exhibition that awoke
so much and so common an interest in the spectators, as at once to
place its continuance for the moment above all other considerations.
After brief salutations, and wary examinations of the spot and its
tenants, each individual had, in succession, given his grave
attention to what was going on, and all had united in begging Ben
Buzz to pursue his occupation, without regard to his visitors. The
conversation that took place was partly in English, and partly in
one of the Indian dialects, which luckily all the parties appeared
to understand. As a matter of course, with a sole view to oblige the
reader, we shall render what was said, freely, into the vernacular.

"Let's see, let's see, STRANger," cried Gershom, emphasizing the
syllable we have put in italics, as if especially to betray his
origin, "what you can do with your tools. I've heer'n tell of such
doin's, but never see'd a bee lined in all my life, and have a
desp'rate fancy for larnin' of all sorts, from 'rithmetic to
preachin'."

"That comes from your Puritan blood," answered le Bourdon, with a
quiet smile, using surprisingly pure English for one in his class of
life. "They tell me you Puritans preach by instinct."

"I don't know how that is," answered Gershom, "though I can turn my
hand to anything. I heer'n tell, across at Bob Ruly (Bois Brulk
[Footnote: This unfortunate name, which it may be necessary to tell
a portion of our readers means "burnt wood," seems condemned to all
sorts of abuses among the linguists of the West. Among other
pronunciations is that of "Bob Ruly"; while an island near Detroit,
the proper name of which is "Bois Blanc," is familiarly known to the
lake mariners by the name of "Bobolo."]) of sich doin's, and would
give a week's keep at Whiskey Centre, to know how 'twas done."

"Whiskey Centre" was a sobriquet bestowed by the fresh-water sailors
of that region, and the few other white adventurers of Saxon origin
who found their way into that trackless region, firstly on Gershom
himself, and secondly on his residence. These names were obtained
from the intensity of their respective characters, in favor of the
beverage named. L'eau de mort was the place termed by the voyagers,
in a sort of pleasant travesty on the eau de vie of their distant,
but still well-remembered manufactures on the banks of the Garonne.
Ben Boden, however, paid but little attention to the drawling
remarks of Gershom Waring. This was not the first time he had heard
of "Whiskey Centre," though the first time he had ever seen the man
himself. His attention was on his own trade, or present occupation;
and when it wandered at all, it was principally bestowed on the
Indians; more especially on the runner. Of Elk's foot, or Elksfoot,
as we prefer to spell it, he had some knowledge by means of rumor;
and the little he knew rendered him somewhat more indifferent to his
proceedings than he felt toward those of the Pigeonswing. Of this
young redskin he had never heard; and, while he managed to suppress
all exhibition of the feeling, a lively curiosity to learn the
Chippewa's business was uppermost in his mind. As for Gershom, he
had taken HIS measure at a glance, and had instantly set him down to
be, what in truth he was, a wandering, drinking, reckless
adventurer, who had a multitude of vices and bad qualities, mixed up
with a few that, if not absolutely redeeming, served to diminish the
disgust in which he might otherwise have been held by all decent
people. In the meanwhile, the bee-hunting, in which all the
spectators took so much interest, went on. As this is a process with
which most of our readers are probably unacquainted, it may be
necessary to explain the modus operandi, as well as the appliances
used.

The tools of Ben Buzz, as Gershom had termed these implements of his
trade, were neither very numerous nor very complex. They were all
contained in a small covered wooden pail like those that artisans
and laborers are accustomed to carry for the purpose of conveying
their food from place to place. Uncovering this, le Bourdon had
brought his implements to view, previously to the moment when he was
first seen by the reader. There was a small covered cup of tin; a
wooden box; a sort of plate, or platter, made also of wood; and a
common tumbler, of a very inferior, greenish glass. In the year
1812, there was not a pane, nor a vessel, of clear, transparent
glass, made in all America! Now, some of the most beautiful
manufactures of that sort, known to civilization, are abundantly
produced among us, in common with a thousand other articles that are
used in domestic economy. The tumbler of Ben Buzz, however, was his
countryman in more senses than one. It was not only American, but it
came from the part of Pennsylvania of which he was himself a native.
Blurred, and of a greenish hue, the glass was the best that
Pittsburg could then fabricate, and Ben had bought it only the year
before, on the very spot where it had been made.

An oak, of more size than usual, had stood a little remote from its
fellows, or more within the open ground of the glade than the rest
of the "orchard." Lightning had struck this tree that very summer,
twisting off its trunk at a height of about four feet from the
ground. Several fragments of the body and branches lay near, and on
these the spectators now took their seats, watching attentively the
movements of the bee-hunter. Of the stump Ben had made a sort of
table, first levelling its splinters with an axe, and on it he
placed the several implements of his craft, as he had need of each
in succession.

The wooden platter was first placed on this rude table. Then le
Bourdon opened his small box, and took out of it a piece of
honeycomb, that was circular in shape, and about an inch and a half
in diameter. The little covered tin vessel was next brought into
use. Some pure and beautifully clear honey was poured from its spout
into the cells of the piece of comb, until each of them was about
half filled. The tumbler was next taken in hand, carefully wiped,
and examined, by holding it up before the eyes of the bee-hunter.
Certainly, there was little to admire in it, but it was sufficiently
transparent to answer his purposes. All he asked was to be able to
look through the glass in order to see what was going on in its
interior.

Having made these preliminary arrangements, Buzzing Ben--for the
sobriquet was applied to him in this form quite as often as in the
other--next turned his attention to the velvet-like covering of the
grassy glade. Fire had run over the whole region late that spring,
and the grass was now as fresh, and sweet and short, as if the place
were pastured. The white clover, in particular, abounded, and was
then just bursting forth into the blossom. Various other flowers had
also appeared, and around them were buzzing thousands of bees. These
industrious little animals were hard at work, loading themselves
with sweets; little foreseeing the robbery contemplated by the craft
of man. As le Bourdon moved stealthily among the flowers and their
humming visitors, the eyes of the two red men followed his smallest
movement, as the cat watches the mouse; but Gershom was less
attentive, thinking the whole curious enough, but preferring whiskey
to all the honey on earth.

At length le Bourdon found a bee to his mind, and watching the
moment when the animal was sipping sweets from a head of white
clover, he cautiously placed his blurred and green-looking tumbler
over it, and made it his prisoner. The moment the bee found itself
encircled with the glass, it took wing and attempted to rise. This
carried it to the upper part of its prison, when Ben carefully
introduced the unoccupied hand beneath the glass, and returned to
the stump. Here he set the tumbler down on the platter in a way to
bring the piece of honeycomb within its circle.

So much done successfully, and with very little trouble, Buzzing Ben
examined his captive for a moment, to make sure that all was right.
Then he took off his cap and placed it over tumbler, platter,
honeycomb, and bee. He now waited half a minute, when cautiously
raising the cap again, it was seen that the bee, the moment a
darkness like that of its hive came over it, had lighted on the
comb, and commenced filling itself with the honey. When Ben took
away the cap altogether, the head and half of the body of the bee
was in one of the cells, its whole attention being bestowed on this
unlooked-for hoard of treasure. As this was just what its captor
wished, he considered that part of his work accomplished. It now
became apparent why a glass was used to take the bee, instead of a
vessel of wood or of bark. Transparency was necessary in order to
watch the movements of the captive, as darkness was necessary in
order to induce it to cease its efforts to escape, and to settle on
the comb.