Wyandotte | Page 8

coming campaign, in which he was to be
accompanied by his wife; Mrs. Willoughby, a mild, affectionate,
true-hearted New York woman, having decided not to let her husband
pass another summer in that solitude without feeling the cheering
influence of her presence.
In March, before the snow began to melt, several sleigh-loads of
different necessaries were sent up the valley of the Mohawk, to a point
opposite the head of the Otsego, where a thriving village called
Fortplain now stands. Thence men were employed in transporting the
articles, partly by means of "jumpers" improvised for the occasion, and
partly on pack-horses, to the lake, which was found this time, instead of
its neighbour the Canaderaiga. This necessary and laborious service
occupied six weeks, the captain having been up as far as the lake once
himself; returning to Albany, however, ere the snow was gone.
Chapter II.
All things are new--the buds, the leaves, That gild the elm-tree's
nodding crest, And even the nest beneath the eaves-- There are no birds
in last year's nest.
Longfellow.
"I have good news for you, Wilhelmina," cried the captain, coming into
the parlour where his wife used to sit and knit or sew quite half the day,

and speaking with a bright face, and in a cheerful voice--"Here is a
letter from my excellent old colonel; and Bob's affair is all settled and
agreed on. He is to leave school next week, and to put on His Majesty's
livery the week after."
Mrs. Willoughby smiled, and yet two or three tears followed each other
down her cheeks, even while she smiled. The first was produced by
pleasure at hearing that her son had got an ensigncy in the 60th, or
Royal Americans; and the last was a tribute paid to nature; a mother's
fears at consigning an only boy to the profession of arms.
"I am rejoiced, Willoughby," she said, "because you rejoice, and I
know that Robert will be delighted at possessing the king's commission;
but, he is very young to be sent into the dangers of battle and the
camp!"
"I was younger, when I actually went into battle, for then it was war;
now, we have a peace that promises to be endless, and Bob will have
abundance of time to cultivate a beard before he smells gunpowder. As
for myself"--he added in a half-regretful manner, for old habits and
opinions would occasionally cross his mind--"as for myself, the
cultivation of turnips must be my future occupation. Well, the bit of
parchment is sold, Bob has got his in its place, while the difference in
price is in my pocket, and no more need be said--and here come our
dear girls, Wilhelmina, to prevent any regrets. The father of two such
daughters ought, at least, to be happy."
At this instant, Beulah and Maud Willoughby, (for so the adopted child
was called as well as the real), entered the room, having taken the
lodgings of their parents, in a morning walk, on which they were
regularly sent by the mistress of the boarding-school, in which they
were receiving what was then thought to be a first-rate American
female education. And much reason had their fond parents to be proud
of them! Beulah, the eldest, was just eleven, while her sister was
eighteen months younger. The first had a staid, and yet a cheerful look;
but her cheeks were blooming, her eyes bright, and her smile sweet.
Maud, the adopted one, however, had already the sunny countenance of
an angel, with quite as much of the appearance of health as her sister;

her face had more finesse, her looks more intelligence, her playfulness
more feeling, her smile more tenderness, at times; at others, more
meaning. It is scarcely necessary to say that both had that delicacy of
outline which seems almost inseparable from the female form in this
country. What was, perhaps, more usual in that day among persons of
their class than it is in our own, each spoke her own language with an
even graceful utterance, and a faultless accuracy of pronunciation,
equally removed from effort and provincialisms. As the Dutch was in
very common use then, at Albany, and most females of Dutch origin
had a slight touch of their mother tongue in their enunciation of English,
this purity of dialect in the two girls was to be ascribed to the fact that
their father was an Englishman by birth; their mother an American of
purely English origin, though named after a Dutch god- mother; and the
head of the school in which they had now been three years, was a
native of London, and a lady by habits and education.
"Now, Maud," cried the captain, after he had kissed the forehead, eyes
and cheeks of his smiling little favourite--"Now, Maud,