The Knickerbocker, Vol. 22, No. 3, September 1843Various
General
The Knickerbocker, Vol. 22, No. 3, September 1843
Various
Periodicals
In the course of a few months, a space of several acres was cleared
from the timber, which was burned as fast as cut down; a crop of
wheat was put into the ground; and the walls of a house built up of
hewn logs, so substantial as to be, if not bomb-proof, at least wind
and age-proof. When winter came on, he left his new-founded city
to take care of itself; marked the trees as he went out, that he
might be able to find his way in again; cut down one here and there,
so as to make the passage of a wagon imaginable; and departed for
home. In the spring he was married; and with as many implements and
necessaries of household and farm use as could be compressed into a
reasonably small space, and stored away in their caravansary, and
with as many domestic animals as could be expected, from their known
peculiarities of disposition, to submit to be driven or led without
opposition, he started on his 'move,' and introduced his mother and
fair bride to their new home. Not 'fair' bride, exactly, but lovely.
With a perfect form, one which in another sphere of life would have
been admired as voluptuous; with the hue of health on her cheek, the
light of innocence in her eye, and the smile of youth on her lips;
the lovely bride, leaning on the strong arm of her husband, passed
mile after mile through the shades of the forest, without casting
'one longing look behind;' entered into the house which had been
constructed with more strength than skill for her; and set herself
to work with a woman's tact to adorn the bare walls, and scatter
over the barn-like dwelling the charms and comforts of _home_. She
has succeeded in all her labors, and her husband has succeeded in
all his. But after all, are not their position and prospects dreary
enough? And is it not strange that both should be so happy, dwelling
here, out of reach of the eyes and sympathies of the rest of the
world?
It is strange; and so I sit myself down by the side of the young
wife, look in the same direction that she looks, and try to make
objects appear the same to my eyes that they do to her's. How great
a difference in the picture is made by a little alteration in the
position of the inspector! It is not strange _now_ that she should
be happy; for her future is as bright as is ever set before mortal
eyes. The harsh features of the landscape are covered with a soft
and verdant carpet; golden wealth and peace smile in the distance;
the inequalities and roughness of the road are as nothing, for her
feet are strong and light; and if there are but two of them to
journey together, those two hearts will be only the more closely
knit to each other. It is on the whole such a prospect, that I do
not wonder at her for being perfectly happy. And yet I was ready to
exclaim, 'How preposterous to suppose that _she_ can be contented!'
Or, if I was not ready to say so, it was only speculatively, and
without exactly understanding how, that I admitted the possibility.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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