I have before remarked that I did
not like the gleam in this person's eyes: he was very apparently a not
quite nice person. Also I more than once observed him to wink at
Cousin Egbert in an evil manner.
As I have so truly said, how close may tragedy be to us when life
seems most correct! It was Belknap-Jackson's custom to raise a view
halloo each evening when he returned down the lake, so that we might
gather at the dock to oversee his landing. I must admit that he
disembarked with somewhat the manner of a visiting royalty, demanding
much attention and assistance with his impedimenta. Undoubtedly he
liked to be looked at. This was what one rather felt. And I can fancy
that this very human trait of his had in a manner worn upon the
probably undisciplined nerves of the backwoods josser--had, in fact,
deprived him of his "goat," as the native people have it.
Be this as it may, we gathered at the dock on the afternoon of the
third day of our stay to assist at the return. As the native log craft
neared the dock our host daringly arose to a graceful kneeling posture
in the bow and saluted us charmingly, the woods person in the stern
wielding his single oar in gloomy silence. At the moment a most poetic
image occurred to me--that he was like a dull grim figure of Fate that
fetches us low at the moment of our highest seeming.
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