in the woods,
was in no manner behind his companion in doing justice to the viands.

An hour later the scene had greatly changed. The lake was still placid
and glassy, but the gloom of the hour had succeeded to the soft twilight
of a summer evening, and all within the dark setting of the woods lay in
the quiet repose of night. The forests gave up no song, or cry, or
even murmur, but looked down from the hills on the lovely basin they
encircled, in solemn stillness; and the only sound that was audible
was the regular dip of the sweeps, at which Hurry and Deerslayer lazily
pushed, impelling the ark towards the castle. Hutter had withdrawn to
the stern of the scow, in order to steer, but, finding that the young
men kept even strokes, and held the desired course by their own skill,
he permitted the oar to drag in the water, took a seat on the end of the
vessel, and lighted his pipe. He had not been thus placed many minutes,
ere Hetty came stealthily out of the cabin, or house, as they usually
termed that part of the ark, and placed herself at his feet, on a
little bench that she brought with her. As this movement was by no means
unusual in his feeble-minded child, the old man paid no other attention
to it than to lay his hand kindly on her head, in an affectionate
and approving manner; an act of grace that the girl received in meek
silence.

After a pause of several minutes, Hetty began to sing. Her voice was
low and tremulous, but it was earnest and solemn. The words and the
tune were of the simplest form, the first being a hymn that she had been
taught by her mother, and the last one of those natural melodies
that find favor with all classes, in every age, coming from and being
addressed to the feelings. Hutter never listened to this simple strain
without finding his heart and manner softened; facts that his daughter
well knew, and by which she had often profited, through the sort of holy
instinct that enlightens the weak of mind, more especially in their aims
toward good.

Hetty's low, sweet tones had not been raised many moments, when the dip
of the oars ceased, and the holy strain arose singly on the breathing
silence of the wilderness. As if she gathered courage with the theme,
her powers appeared to increase as she proceeded; and though nothing
vulgar or noisy mingled in her melody, its strength and melancholy
tenderness grew on the ear, until the air was filled with this simple
homage of a soul that seemed almos