The Ruling Passion Henry van Dyke
He entered the backwoods village of
Bytown
literally on the wings of the wind. It whirled him along like a big
snowflake
, and dropped him at the door of Moody's "
Sportsmen's
Retreat
," as if he were a
New Year's
gift from the
North Pole
. His coming seemed a mere chance; but perhaps there was something more in it, after all.
At all events, you shall hear, if you will, the time and the manner of his arrival. It was the last night of
December
, some thirty-five years ago. All the city sportsmen who had hunted the deer under
Bill Moody's
direction
had long since retreated to their homes, leaving the
little
settlement
on the border of the
Adirondack wilderness
wholly under the
social direction
of the natives. The annual ball was in full swing in the dining-room of the hotel. At one side of the room the tables and chairs were piled up, with their legs projecting in the air like a thicket of very dead trees.
The
huge stove
in the
southeast
corner was
blushing
a rosy red through its thin coat of
whitewash
, and exhaling a furious dry heat
flavoured
with the smell of baked iron. At the
north end
, however, winter reigned; and there were tiny ridges of fine snow on the
floor
, sifted in by the wind through the
cracks
window
-
frames
. But the bouncing girls and the heavy-footed guides and lumbermen who filled the ball-room did not appear to mind the heat or the cold. They
balanced
and "
sashayed
" from the tropics to the
arctic
circle.
They swung at corners and made "
ladies
'
change
" all through the temperate zone. They stamped their feet and did double-shuffles until the floor trembled beneath them. The tin lampreflectors on the walls rattled like castanets. There was only one drawback to the
hilarity
of the occasion. The band, which was usually imported from
Sandy River
Forks
for such festivities, -
a fiddle, a cornet, a flute, and an accordion
, -
had not arrived
.
There was a general idea that the mail-sleigh, in which the musicians were to travel, had been delayed by the storm, and might break its way through the snow-drifts and arrive at any moment. But Bill Moody, who was naturally of a pessimistic temperament, had offered a different explanation.
"I tell ye, old Baker's got that blame' band down to his hotel at the Falls now, makin' 'em play fer his party.
Them music fellers is onsartin; can't trust 'em to keep anythin' 'cept the toon, and they don't alluz keep that. Guess we might uz well shet up this ball, or go to work playin' games
." At this proposal a thick gloom had fallen over the assembly; but it had been dispersed by
Serena
Moody's cheerful offer to have the small
melodion
brought out of the parlour, and to play for dancing as well as she could.
The company agreed that she was a smart girl, and prepared to accept her performance with enthusiasm. As the dance went on, there were frequent comments of approval to
encourage
her in the labour of love.