The Trapper's Christmas Carol [pp. 15-16]

187O.] LITEBATbRII SCIENCE AND ARR 15
cruelties of the Inquisition, and fomented the crusade against the Albigenses. He risked losing the support, too, of the powerful rival
order of the Jesuits. In 1841, he reappeared in the pulpit of NotreDame. Whatever may have been his doubts as to the effect of his
change of life upon the popular mind, those doubts were pleasantly
solved by the anxious multitudes who still pressed to listen to his
teaching.
In 18S47, he delivered a funeral oration over General Drouot in the
cathedral at Nancy, and produced an address which will bear comparison, now, even with those masterpieces of sombre eloquence pronounced over Cond6 and Turenne. General Drouot was the son of a
baker at Nancy; from this humble position he had risen by his own
merits. So prudent and unassuming was his demeanor, so simple his
tastes,? gTreat his acquirements, so correct his habits, that Napoleon
used t uilhim "the Philosopher of the Grand Army." Lacordaire
described the sufferings and struggles of his boyhood, then painted in
glowing contrast the brilliancy of his after-life:
"The fondness young Drouot manifested for study induced his
parents to allow him to attend school at a very early age; but this
was not to interfere with other less agreeable duties at home. Returning from his lessons, he had to carry round bread to his father's customers, or attend to the business of the shop. In the evening, the
light was put out early, to save expense, and the poor young student
considered himself lucky when there was sufficient moonlight to enable him to go on reading. At two in the morning, work was resumed
by the glimmer of a sluggish, smoky lamp, which often went out before sunrise. Then the studious boy would creep to the open door of
the oven, and, thus obtaining a rude apology for daylight, pore over
the classic pages of Livy or Julius Cesar.
"So passed his childhood. Yet the memory of that childhood
lingered in his mind forever. It was not lost amid the roar of mighty
battle-fields, where he directed successful batteries; nor was it effaced
as he wandered, adorned with the insignia of military rank, among
the imperial splendor of the Tuileries. Are you astonished at this?
Do you wonder what charm could lurk in the memory of an humble
home, and hang round the recollection of a laborious boyhood? I will
tell you. It was the charm of innocence, of obscurity, of poverty;
for, sheltered by this triple buckler, he had grown up brave and hardy
as a child of ancient Sparta-nay, I should rather say, as a true child
of the Christian Church. The divine grace, which poured its inherent
beauty upon his boyish heart in that pious, humble home, never deserted him in after-years, but guided his maturer footsteps back, at
last, to the spot whither he had so often turned in thought with happy,
grateful remembrance."
We have thus endeavored to trace Father Lacordaire's career, and
give some idea of his peculiar style. For a short time after the Revolution of'48, he was a member of the National Assembly, but soon
resigned that position, as though conscious that his power to benefit
his fellow-men was better employed in the pulpit than the forum. He
continued to preach and to attract, till, one day, toward the close of
1861, the sad news spread throughout the Christian world that the
golden bowl of his eloquence was broken at the fountain, and that the
tones of his persuasive oratory would thrill the sobbing multitude no
more. The departure of a great genius from among us is like the setting of the sun. Men wander about gloomily in the twilight, and gaze
wistfully at those fading splendors which linger among the clouds
to remind them of the brilliant luminary they have lost.
AN INCIDENT OF THE LATE WAR.
k CLERGYMAN in Lexington, Virginia, who served as a chaplain
in the Confederate army, from the beginning to the end of the
late civil war, sends us an account of the following strange incident,
which, he assures us, may be depended on as strictly true:
Among the Confederates wounded at the battle of Antietam, who
fell into the hands of the Union forces, was a young private of good
family named F, from the mountain region of Virginia. He was
a boy at school when the war broke out, and abandoned his studies to
shoulder a musket in the army of General Lee. He was shot through
the lungs at Antietam, and, after lying for a long time on the field, was
carried to a Union hospital, and tenderly cared for by a Maryland sur geon attached to the Northern army, under whose skilful treatment
the young Virginian soon became convalescent. The Marylander con
ceived a strong liking for his patient, and, procuring his release on
parole. took him to his own house, where he remained in comfort and
security until he was exchanged, when he returned to the Confederate
army.
Some time later in the war, the Maryland surgeon, while with his
regiment in Virginia, got separated from his comrades, and, being cut
off from rejoining them by Early's cavalry, took to the woods to avoid
capture, and wandered for several days among the forests and mountains, until he became utterly exhausted with fatigue and hunger. In
this desperate strait, he resolved to apply for help at the first house he
should come to, even at the risk of being arrested and consigned to a
rebel prison. He soon reached a dwelling of the better class, in which
he found at home an intelligent-looking lady and several small children.
He made himself known as a surgeon in the Union army, and asked
for food and shelter. The lady replied that a Federal surgeon had
been very kind to her son while a prisoner of war, and for his sake she
would do what she could for the stranger. This remark led to mutual
inquiries and explanations, from which the Marylander learned that the
house to which he had thus accidently wandered was the home of
young F, his patient from the field of Antietam! It may easily
be imagined that he was warmly welcomed to its hospitalities, and
provided in due time with the means of regaining the Union lines in
safety.
THE TRAPPER'S CHRISTMAS CAROL.
HE daring enterprise exhibited by the professional hunter, in the
pursuit of fur-bearing animals, is but little known. Long before
the southern and more hospitable portions of our continent were familiar with the footsteps of civilized man, the vast regions stretching
out from the shores of the great lakes toward the North Pole, were
threaded by the fuir-hunters, who, under the imposing title of the "couriers of the woods," left the settlements about Quebec and Montreal,
and, by the aid of bark canoes, reached the actual heart of the continent, the inhospitable shores of Lake Winnipeg. This journey accom
plished, the cold of approaching winter congealed the streams, and
covered the earth with snow. Then the voyageur transformed himself
into the hunter and trapper, and, armed with his trusty rifle, buried
himself up in the deepest and most inhospitable forests, inhabited
alone by wild game. It was, indeed, one of these hardy, adventurous
men, who, more than seventy years ago, crossed the highest peaks of
the Rocky Mountain chain, and then, following the banks of what is
now known as Frazer River, descended until he reached the rock-bound
coast of the Pacific, where he inscribed upon the eternal granite
"A. MACKENZIE, ARRIVED FROM CANADA BY LAND, 22D JULY, 1792."
But the majority of hunters have little else than courage or a taste
for solitary lift to recommend them. The class is recruited from almost all civilized nations, and includes many men who have been overwhelmed by'some great domestic calamity, or who have fled from justice,
and find, awiy from the haunts of civilized man, a repose nowhere else
accorded to them. Selecting a place favorable for their business, they
make their lodge under some shelving rock, or build a burrow in the
open ground, sufficiently large to accommodate themselves, and store the
peltries they gather up through the hunting-season. For long months
they have no excitement but danger; the constant glare of the snow,
produces semi-blindness; the sameness and coarseness of their food
bring on scurvy; and often they find themselves buried beneath a
mountain snow-drift, their futile efforts to escape from which fre quently ending in death.
When successful, the hunter secures as rich prizes the skins of
the black bear, the wolverine, the pine marten, the weasel, otter, red
fox, lynx, and ice-hare. But there is one animal the hunter hates,
because of its destructiveness, its want of any commercial value, but
especially for its cruelty in success, and its cowardice under even imagi.
nary disaster-we allude to the wolf. This animal is held to be without
a redeeming trait, if we except the satisfaction it affords the hunter to
devote him to destruction.
The scene presented by our illustration tells its own story. The
savory viands of a cooked meal, that steams up from the hunter's
lodge, together with bits of effective bait, that have been with ma icious intent scattered here and there upon the surface of the snow
.LITERAT'OE, SCIENCE, Ai' AtRT.
1870.]
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