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Page 11
Micah had never taken to himself a helpmate, and as far as mere
housekeeping was concerned, one would judge, on looking around the
decent, tidy apartment in which he sat and of which he had the sole
care, that he did not particularly need one. He washed, scoured,
baked, brewed, swept and dusted as deftly as any woman, and did it all
as a matter of course. These were, however, only his minor
accomplishments. He commanded the highest wages in the lumber camp,
was the best fisherman to be found in the region, and had the good
luck of always bringing down any game he had set his heart upon.
Micah had faults, but let these pass for the present. There was one
achievement of his, worthy of all praise.
It was remarked, that the loggery was situated on the edge of a grove.
This grove, when Micah came, was "a piece of woods", of the densest
and most tangled sort. By his strong arm, it had been transformed into
a scene of exceeding beauty. He had cut away the under growth and
smaller trees, leaving the taller sons of the forest still rising
loftily and waving their banners toward heaven. It formed a
magnificent natural temple, and as the sun struck in through the long,
broad aisles, soft and rich were the lights and shadows that flickered
over the green floor. The lofty arches, formed by the meeting and
interlaced branches above, were often resonant with music. During the
spring and summer months, matin worship was constantly performed by a
multitudinous choir, and praises were chanted by tiny-throated
warblers, raising their notes upon the deep, organ base, rolled into
the harmony by the grand old pines.
It is true, that hardly a human soul worshipped here, but when the "Te
Deum" rose toward heaven, thousands of blue, pink, and white blossoms
turned their eyes upward wet with dewy moisture, the hoary mosses
waved their tresses, the larches shook their tassels gayly, the
birches quivered and thrilled with joy in every leaf, and the rivulets
gurgled forth a silvery sound of gladness. On this particular
September morning Micah's grove was radiant with beauty. The wild
equinoctial storm, which had so fiercely assailed it the day before,
had brightened it into fresh verdure and now it glittered in the
sunbeams as if bejewelled with emerald.
Mr. Norton and Ad�le reached the cottage door, on which she tapped
softly.
"Come in", Micah almost shouted, without moving from his seat or
looking up from his occupation.
The maiden opened the door, and said, "Good morning, Micah".
At the sound of her voice he rose instantly and handing a chair into
the middle of the floor, said, "O! come in, Miss Ady; I didn't know ez
it was yeou".
"I cannot stop now, Micah, but here is a gentleman who has a little
business with you. I came to show him the way. This is Mr. Norton".
And away Ad�le sped, without farther ceremony.
Micah looked after her for a moment, with a half smile on his
weather-beaten face, then turned and motioning Mr. Norton to a chair,
reseated himself on a wooden chest, with his gun, upon which he again
commenced operations, his countenance setting into its usual owl-like
solemnity.
He was not courtly in his reception of strangers. The missionary,
however, had dealt with several varieties of the human animal before,
and was by no means disturbed at this nonchalance.
"I believe you are from the States, as well as myself, Mr. Mummychog",
said he, after a short silence.
"I'm from the Kennebec River", said Micah, laconically.
"I am quite extensively acquainted in that region, but do not remember
to have heard your name before. It is rather an uncommon one".
"I guess ye won't find many folks in them parts, ez is called
Mummychog", said Micah, with a twinkle of the eye and something like a
grin, on his sombre visage.
"You've a snug place here, Mr. Micah", said Mr. Norton, who, having
found some difficulty in restraining a smile, when repeating Mr.
Mummychog's surname, concluded to drop it altogether, "but what could
have induced you to leave the pleasant Kennebec and come to this
distant spot?"
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