Of course, this character is
not uniform, reaches occurring in which the placid water is barely
seen to move; and others, again, are found, in which something like
rapids, and even falls, appear. But on the whole, and more
especially in the part of the stream where it was, the canoe had
little to disturb it, as it glided easily down, impelled by a light
stroke of the paddle.
The bee-hunter did not abandon his station without regret. He had
chosen a most agreeable site for his chiente, consulting air, shade,
water, verdure, and groves, as well as the chances of obtaining
honey. In his regular pursuit he had been unusually fortunate; and
the little pile of kegs in the centre of his canoe was certainly a
grateful sight to his eyes. The honey gathered this season,
moreover, had proved to be of an unusually delicious flavor,
affording the promise of high prices and ready sales. Still, the
bee-hunter left the place with profound regret. He loved his
calling; he loved solitude to a morbid degree, perhaps; and he loved
the gentle excitement that naturally attended his "bee-lining," his
discoveries, and his gains. Of all the pursuits that are more or
less dependent on the chances of the hunt and the field, that of the
bee-hunter is of the most quiet and placid enjoyment. He has the
stirring motives of uncertainty and doubt, without the disturbing
qualities of bustle and fatigue; and, while his exercise is
sufficient for health, and for the pleasures of the open air, it is
seldom of a nature to weary or unnerve. Then the study of the little
animal that is to be watched, and, if the reader will, plundered, is
not without a charm for those who delight in looking into the
wonderful arcana of nature. So great was the interest that le
Bourdon sometimes felt in his little companions, that, on three
several occasions that very summer, he had spared hives after having
found them, because he had ascertained that they were composed of
young bees, and had not yet got sufficiently colonized to render a
new swarming more than a passing accident. With all this kindness of
feeling toward his victims, Boden had nothing of the transcendental
folly that usually accompanies the sentimentalism of the
exaggerated, but his feelings and impulses were simple and direct,
though so often gentle and humane. He knew that the bee, like all
the other inferior animals of creation, was placed at the
disposition of man, and did not scruple to profit by the power thus
beneficently bestowed, though he exercised it gently, and with a
proper discrimination between its use and its abuse.
Neither of the men toiled much, as the canoe floated down the
stream. Very slight impulses served to give their buoyant craft a
reasonably swift motion, and the current itself was a material
assistant. These circumstances gave an opportunity for conversation,
as the canoe glided onward.
"A'ter all," suddenly exclaimed Waring, who had been examining the
pile of kegs for some time in silence—"a'ter all, Bourdon, your
trade is an oncommon one! A most extr'ornary and oncommon callin'!"
"More so, think you, Gershom, than swallowing whiskey, morning,
noon, and night?" answered the bee-hunter, with a quiet smile.
"Aye, but that's not a reg'lar callin'; only a likin'! Now a man may
have a likin' to a hundred things in which he don't deal. I set
nothin' down as a business, which a man don't live by."
"Perhaps you're right, Waring. More die by whiskey than live by
whiskey."
Whiskey Centre seemed struck with this remark, which was introduced
so aptly, and was uttered so quietly. He gazed earnestly at his
companion for near a minute, ere he attempted to resume the
discourse.
"Blossom has often said as much as this," he then slowly rejoined;
"and even Dolly has prophesized the same."
The bee-hunter observed that an impression had been made, and he
thought it wisest to let the reproof already administered produce
its effect, without endeavoring to add to its power. Waring sat with
his chin on his breast, in deep thought, while his companion, for
the first time since they had met, examined the features and aspect
of the man. At first sight, Whiskey Centre certainly offered little
that was inviting; but a closer study of his countenance showed that
he had the remains of a singularly handsome man. Vulgar as were his
forms of speech, coarse and forbidding as his face had become,
through the indulgence which was his bane, there were still traces
of this truth. His complexion had once been fair almost to
effeminacy, his cheeks ruddy with health, and his blue eye bright
and full of hope. His hair was light; and all these peculiarities
strongly denoted his Saxon origin. It was not so much Anglo-Saxon as
Americo-Saxon, that was to be seen in the physical outlines and hues
of this nearly self-destroyed being. The heaviness of feature, the
ponderousness of limb and movement, had all long disappeared from
his race, most probably under the influence of climate, and his nose
was prominent and graceful in outline, while his mouth and chin
might have passed for having been under the chisel of some
distinguished sculptor. It was, in truth, painful to examine that
face, steeped as it was in liquor, and fast losing the impress left
by nature. As yet, the body retained most of its power, the enemy
having insidiously entered the citadel, rather than having actually
subdued it. The bee-hunter sighed as he gazed at his moody
companion, and wondered whether Blossom had aught of this marvellous
comeliness of countenance, without its revolting accompaniments.
All that afternoon, and the whole of the night that succeeded, did
the canoe float downward with the current. Occasionally, some slight
obstacle to its progress would present itself; but, on the whole,
its advance was steady and certain. As the river necessarily
followed the formation of the land, it was tortuous and irregular in
its course, though its general direction was toward the northwest,
or west a little northerly.
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