Adèle Dubois | Page 9

of wisdom, that sat rather
comically on her youthful brow, "I think Micah Mummychog would be
just the person to help this gentleman".
"Micah Mummychog!" exclaimed Mr. Norton, throwing himself back
in his chair and shaking out of his lungs a huge, involuntary haw, haw,
"where does the person you speak of hail from to own such a name as
that, my dear child?"
"I rather think he came from Yankee land,--from your part of the
country, sir", said Adèle, mischievously.
"Ah, well", said Mr. Norton, with another peal of laughter, "we do have
some curious names in our parts".
"Micah Mummychog!" exclaimed Mr. Dubois, "what are you thinking
of, Adèle? Why, the fellow drinks and swears as hard as the rest of
them".
"Not quite", persisted the child, "and besides, he has some good about
him, I know".
"What have you seen good about him, pray?" said her father.
"Why, you remember that when I discovered the little girl floating

down the river, Micah took his boat and went out to bring her ashore.
He took the body, dripping, in his arms, carried it to his house, and laid
it down as tenderly as if it had been his own sister. He asked me to
please go and get Mrs. McNab to come and prepare it for burial. The
little thing, he said, was entirely dead and gone. I started to go, as he
wished, but happened to think I would just step back and look at the
sweet face once more. When I opened the door, Micah was bending
over it, with his eyes full of tears. When I asked, what is the matter,
Micah? he said he was thinking of a little sister of his that was drowned
just so in the Kennebec River, many years ago".
"That showed some feeling, certainly", said Mrs. Dubois.
"Then, too, I know", continued Adèle, "that the people here like him. If
any one can get them together, Micah can".
"Well!" said Mr. Dubois looking at his child with a fond pride, yet as if
doubting whether she were not already half spoiled, "it seems you are
the wiseacre of the family. I know Micah has always been a favorite of
yours. Perhaps the gentleman will give your views some
consideration".
"Father", replied Adèle, "I have only said what I think about it".
"I'll try what I can do with Micah Mummychog", said Mr. Norton
decidedly, and the conversation ended.

CHAPTER IV.
MICAH MUMMYCHOG.
About ten years before the period when this narrative begins, Micah
Mummychog had come to this country from the Kennebec River, in the
State of Maine.
He soon purchased a dozen acres of land, partially cleared them, and
built a large-sized, comfortable log house. It was situated not far from

the Dubois house, at a short distance from the bank of the river, and on
the edge of a grove of forest trees.
Micah inhabited his house usually only a few months during the year,
as he was a cordial lover of the unbroken wilderness, and was as
migratory in his habits as the native Indian. On the morning after the
events related in the last chapter, he happened to be at home. While
Adèle was guiding the missionary to his cottage, he was sitting in his
kitchen, which also served for a general reception room, burnishing up
an old Dutch fowling-piece.
The apartment was furnished with cooking utensils, and coarse wooden
furniture; the walls hung around with fishing tackle, moose-horns,
skins of wild animals and a variety of firearms.
Micah was no common, stupid, bumpkin-looking person. Belonging to
the genus Yankee, he had yet a few peculiar traits of his own. He had a
smallish, bullet-shaped head, set, with dignified poise, on a pair of wide,
flat shoulders. His chest was broad and swelling, his limbs straight,
muscular, and strong. His eyes were large, round, and blue. When his
mind was in a state of repose and his countenance at rest, they had a
solemn, owl-like expression. But when in an excited, observant mood,
they were keen and searching; and human orbs surely never expressed
more rollicking fun than did his, in his hours of recreation. He had a
habit of darting them around a wide circle of objects, without turning
his head a hairsbreadth. This, together with another peculiarity of
turning his head, occasionally, at a sharp angle, with the quick and
sudden motion of a cat, probably was acquired in his hunting life.
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