Lo! dusky masses steal in dubious sight, Along the leaguer'd wall, and bristling bank, Of the arm'd river; while with straggling light, The stars peep through the vapor, dim and dank.
BYRON.
A few hours later Mabel Dunham was on the bastion that overlooked the river and the lake, seemingly in deep thought.The evening was calm and soft, and the ques-tion had arisen whether the party for the Thousand Islands would be able to get out that night or not, on account of the total absence of wind.The stores, arms, and ammuni-tion were already shipped, and even Mabel's effects were on board; but the small draft of men that was to go was still ashore, there being no apparent prospect of the cutter's getting under way.Jasper had warped the _Scud_ out of the cove, and so far up the stream as to enable him to pass through the outlet of the river whenever he chose; but there he still lay, riding at single anchor.The drafted men were lounging about the shore of the cove, undecided whether or not to pull off.
The sports of the morning had left a quiet in the garri-son which was in harmony with the whole of the beautiful scene, and Mabel felt its influence on her feelings, though probably too little accustomed to speculate on such sensa-tions to be aware of the cause.Everything near appeared lovely and soothing, while the solemn grandeur of the silent forest and placid expanse of the lake lent a sub-limity that other scenes might have wanted.For the first time, Mabel felt the hold that the towns and civilization had gained on her habits sensibly weakened; and the warm-hearted girl began to think that a life passed amid objects such as those around her might be happy.How far the experience of the last days came in aid of the calm and holy eventide, and contributed towards producing that young conviction, may be suspected, rather than affirmed, in this early portion of our legend.
"A charming sunset, Mabel!" said the hearty voice of her uncle, so close to the ear of our heroine as to cause her to start, -- "a charming sunset, girl, for a fresh-water con-cern, though we should think but little of it at sea.""And is not nature the same on shore or at sea -- on a lake like this or on the ocean? Does not the sun shine on all alike, dear uncle; and can we not feel gratitude for the blessings of Providence as strongly on this remote frontier as in our own Manhattan?""The girl has fallen in with some of her mother's books.
Is not nature the same, indeed! Now, Mabel, do you imagine that the nature of a soldier is the same as that of a seafaring man? You've relations in both callings, and ought to be able to answer.""But uncle, I mean human nature."
"So do I, girl; the human nature of a seaman, and the human nature of one of these fellows of the 55th, not even excepting your own father.Here have they had a shooting-match -- target-firing I should call it -- this day, and what a different thing has it been from a target-firing afloat! There we should have sprung our broadside, sported with round shot, at an object half a mile off, at the very nearest; and the potatoes, if there happened to be any on board, as very likely would not have been the case, would have been left in the cook's coppers.It may be an honorable calling, that of a soldier, Mabel; but an experienced hand sees many follies and weaknesses in one of these forts.As for that bit of a lake, you know my opinion of it already, and I wish to disparage nothing.No real seafarer disparages anything; but, d--- me, if I regard this here Ontario, as they call it, as more than so much water in a ship's scuttle-butt.Now, look you here, Mabel, if you wish to understand the difference between the ocean and a lake, I can make you comprehend it with a single look: this is what one may call a calm, seeing that there is no wind; though, to own the truth, I do not think the calms are as calm as them we get outside -- ""Uncle, there is not a breath of air.I do not think it possible for the leaves to be more immovably still than those of the entire forest are at this very moment.""Leaves! what are leaves, child? there are no leaves at sea.If you wish to know whether it is a dead calm or not, try a mould candle, -- your dips flaring too much, --and then you may be certain whether there is or is not any wind.If you were in a latitude where the air was so still that you found a difficulty in stirring it to draw it in in breathing, you might fancy it a calm.People are often on a short allowance of air in the calm latitudes.Here, again, look at that water! It is like milk in a pan, with no more motion now than there is in a full hogshead before the bung is started.On the ocean the water is never still, let the air be as quiet as it may.""The water of the ocean never still, Uncle Cap? not even in a calm?""Bless your heart, no, child! The ocean breathes like a living being, and its bosom is always heaving, as the poetizers call it, though there be no more air than is to be found in a siphon.No man ever saw the ocean still like this lake; but it heaves and sets as if it had lungs.""And this lake is not absolutely still, for you perceive there is a little ripple on the shore, and you may even hear the surf plunging at moments against the rocks.""All d----d poetry! Lake Ontario is no more the Atlantic than a Powles Hook periagila is a first-rate.That Jasper, notwithstanding, is a fine lad, and wants instruction only to make a man of him.""Do you think him ignorant, uncle?" answered Mabel, prettily adjusting her hair, in order to do which she was obliged, or fancied she was obliged, to turn away her face.
