Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1865-06-14
THE GREEN MoUKTAIN HERMIT.


THE GREEN MOUNTAIN HERMIT.
So you think you would ike TO be a her
nit 90 you? Let me tell you 4 story that
was tod me by an old man up among the
Green Mountains Of Vermont
1t was near the close of a hot summer day,
and we were setting on the yeranda on the
east side OF the house. Before Us, and but
few rods of. lay a beautiful little lake about
three miles long and one wide. Directly op
posite TO US was a cove setting back perhaps
twenty rods; on the north side of this was
a clearing OF quarter of an acre, and back Of
the clearing was the unbroken forest, which
on all that side OF the lake with the excep-
tious Of that little nook came down 10 the wa
ter edge. 1t was such picture as We sci
dom meet. And as | gazed across the quiet
waters of the lake it seemed to Inc that be
meath those peaceful shades which only the
last rays of the sun ever reached, l could
pass the remainder Of my days content and
happy. ItwasJhe expression Of this thought
that drew the following story from the old
man.
1t must be fifty years since it took place,
for | am now sixty-hve, and l was then cnly
fifteen. There was 4 young man came to
our house one night and wanted TO get sup
per and lodging. He was plainly dressed
and carried d rife but il was easy to see
that he was no hunter He was very polite
and eentiemaniy. but said little, and appear
cd sad and melancholy. He went to bed ear
ly, and in the morning found him down by
the edge Of the lawn looking across the wat
er. He gave me pleasant good morn
ing, and inquired what was the best way
TO get to the other side Of the lake. After
breakfast, Of which he ate but little, he went
away.
One morning about two weeks after, as /
was looking over that way, | saw smoke
rising up from where you now see that clear
ing. As hunters both white and red fre-
quently wandered about the forest, thought
but little about it but next morning 1t was
there again, and 80 it went on every morn
ing.
We again talked about ii and wondered
who could be living there. But We had no
boat and 1t was d long and rough path a
round, besides | was all the help my father
had on the farm, and he could not spare me
q whole day, he said To 90 of and neglect
my business for the sake OF finding out
what other folks were doing.
But finally cold weather came and bridged
the lake; and one morning | started of. de-
termined to get acquainted with our neigh
bgrS. ! had nearly reached the cove, when
for the first time, | began 70 think was 60
ing among strangers and how 81 1uid L IN
trOduce myself. or what excuse could make
for calling upon them But before | had
settled the question | found myself in front
water and as | stood there in some doubt
about what | ought to do, the door opened
and a man came out.
He appeared somewhat surprised at see
ing me, but advanced and said good morn
ing, and offered me his hand, at the same
time calling me by my name. L suppose L
looked astonished at this, for | had no idea
that had ever seen him before. He wore
a hunting shirt, fur cap, and long whiskers,
and his hair almost. rested on his shoulders.
All. don tyou know me?' he said well
it 5 no wonder [ don t look much Ike the
man who stayed over at your house one
night last summer, do L?
/ knew him then. There was the same
kind smile, though gloom more deep than
when | had last seen him. 1t was like the
sunbeamS on a cold winter cloud there was
warmth somewhere. But L was too young
then 10 speculate much about 1t. lie lnvIt-
ed me in his cabin as he called II: II was
quite small, but warm and comfortable. On
one side was a sort of bunk raised a few
feet from the ground and filed with dried
leaves. over which was thrown blanket and
a bear skin and table and chair Of his own
manufacture, and very small stock OF ne
cessarv articles of housekeeping, which com
pleted his list of furniture. Everything was
neat and arranged in good order. Several
pictures were hung around the room, and
upon a shelf were a few books. He made
no allusion TO himself or his manner Of life,
but inquired with much apparent interest.
about my father, mother, and sister; and
when [ left invited me to call again. But
when | asked him to call upon US he thank
ed me but said nothing about coming.
The time passed on. often went to see
him; he always appeared glad TO see me,
but in no way could induce him to come to
our house: and so reserved had he always
been in regard to his own affairs that did
not even know his name.
Sometime in the winter young lady,
cousin of mine whom | had never seen, came
TO make us a visit.
With the exception of my mother, and
wife. I had never seen woman L loved bet
ter than her; somehow her wants and pleas