Historical fiction; King Philip's War, 1675-1676 -- Fiction; War stories
Notwithstanding the entire simplicity which marked the opinions and usages
of the colonists at that period, and the great equality of condition which
even to this hour distinguishes the particular community of which we
write, choice and inclination drew some natural distinctions in the
ordinary intercourse of the inmates of the Heathcote family. A fire so
bright and cheerful blazed on an enormous hearth in a sort of upper
kitchen, as to render candles or torches unnecessary. Around it were
seated six or seven hardy and athletic young men, some drawing coarse
tools carefully through the curvatures of ox-bows, others scraping down
the helves of axes, or perhaps fashioning sticks of birch into homely but
convenient brooms. A demure, side-looking young woman kept her great wheel
in motion; while one or two others were passing from room to room, with
the notable and stirring industry of handmaidens, busied in the more
familiar cares of the household. A door communicated with an inner and
superior apartment. Here was a smaller but an equally cheerful fire, a
floor which had recently been swept, while that without had been freshly
sprinkled with river sand; candles of tallow, on a table of cherry-wood
from the neighboring forest; walls that were wainscoted in the black oak
of the country, and a few other articles, of a fashion so antique, and of
ornaments so ingenious and rich, as to announce that they had been
transported from beyond sea. Above the mantel were suspended the armorial
bearings of the Heathcotes and the Hardings, elaborately emblazoned in
tent-stitch.
The principal personages of the family were seated around the latter
hearth, while a straggler from the other room, of more than usual
curiosity, had placed himself among them, marking the distinction in
ranks, or rather in situation, merely by the extraordinary care which he
took that none of the scrapings should litter the spotless oaken floor.
Until this period of the evening, the duties of hospitality and the
observances of religion had prevented familiar discourse. But the offices
of the housewife were now ended for the night, the handmaidens had all
retired to their wheels, and, as the bustle of a busy and more stirring
domestic industry ceased, the cold and self-restrained silence which had
hitherto only been broken by distant and brief observations of courtesy,
or by some wholesome allusion to the lost and probationary condition of
man, seemed to invite an intercourse of a more general character.
"You entered my clearing by the southern path," commenced Mark Heathcote,
addressing himself to his guest with sufficient courtesy, "and needs must
bring tidings from the towns on the river side. Has aught been done by our
councillors, at home, in the matter that pertaineth so closely to the
well-being of this colony?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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