Half a Century | Page 7

schoolmate. But we had Dr.
Black's sermons, full of grand morals, science and history.
In lieu of colleges for girls, there were boarding-schools, and
Edgeworth was esteemed one of the best in the State. It was at
Braddock's Field, and Mrs. Olever, an English woman of high culture,
was its founder and principal. To it my cousin, Mary Alexander, was
sent, but returned homesick, and refused to go back unless I went with
her. It was arranged that I should go for a few weeks, as I was greatly
in need of country air; and, highly delighted, I was at the rendezvous at
the hour, one o'clock, with my box, ready for this excursion into the
world of polite literature. Mary was also there, and a new scholar, but
Father Olever did not come for us until four o'clock. He was a small,
nervous gentleman, and lamps were already lighted in the smoky city
when we started to drive twelve miles through spring mud, on a cloudy,
cheerless afternoon. We knew he had no confidence in his power to
manage those horses, though we also knew he would do his best to save
us from harm; but as darkness closed around us, I think we felt like
babes in the woods, and shuddered with vague fear as much as with
cold and damp. When we reached the "Bullock Pens," half a mile west
of Wilkinsburg, there were many lights and much bustle in and around
the old yellow tavern, where teamsters were attending to their weary
horses. Here we turned off to the old mud road, and came to a place of
which I had no previous knowledge--a place of outer darkness and
chattering teeth.
We met no more teams, saw no more lights, but seemed to be in an
utterly uninhabited country. Then, after an hour of wearisome jolting
and plunging, we discovered that the darkness had not been total, for
the line of the horizon had been visible, but now it was swallowed up.
We knew we were in a wood, by the rush of the wind amid the dried
white oak leaves--knew that the road grew rougher at every step--that
our driver became more nervous as he applied the brake, and we went
down, down.
Still the descent grew steeper. We stopped, and Father Olever felt for
the bank with his whip to be sure we were on the road. Then we heard
the sound of rushing, angry waters, mingled with the roar of the wind,
and he seemed to hesitate about going on, but we could not very well

stay there, and he once more put his horses in motion, while we held
fast and prayed silently to the great Deliverer. After stopping again and
feeling for the bank, lest we should go over the precipitous hillside,
which he knew was there, he proceeded until, with a great plunge, we
were in the angry waters, which arose to the wagon-bed, and roared and
surged all around us. The horses tried to go on, when something gave
way, and our guardian concluded further progress was impossible, and
began to hallo at the top of his voice.
For a long time there was no response; then came an answering call
from a long distance. Next a light appeared, and that, too, was far away,
but came toward us. When it reached the brink of the water, and two
men with it, we felt safe. The light-bearer held it up so that we saw him
quite well, and his peculiar appearance suited his surroundings. He was
more an overgrown boy than a man, beardless, with a long swarthy face,
black hair and keen black eyes. He wore heavy boots outside his
pantaloons, a blouse and slouch hat, spoke to his companion as one
having authority, and with a laugh said to our small gentleman:
"Is this where you are?" but gave no heed to the answer as he waded in
and threw off the check lines, saying: "I wonder you did not drown
your horses."
He next examined the wagon, paying no more attention to Father
Olever's explanations than to the water in which he seemed quite at
home, and when he had finished his inspection he said:
"They must go to the house," and handing the light to the driver he took
us up one by one and carried us to the wet bank as easily as a child
carries her doll. He gave some directions to his companion, took the
light and said to us:
"Come on," and we walked after him out into the limitless blackness,
nothing doubting. We went what seemed a long way, following this
brigand-looking stranger, without seeing any sign of life or hearing any
sound save the roar of wind and water, but