CHAPTER XIV--The Story of Johnny Appleseed
It has already been made clear to you that the sojourn of the troop ofBoy Scouts in the southern Maine woods during this summer was simply avacation in which there was a relaxation of rigid discipline such asattended their hikes and what may be called business outings. A certainpart of each week-day was devoted to drill; the bugle was soundedmorning and evening; the National Flag was saluted; yells practiced andso on. The leader simply kept the youngsters on edge, as may be said.They were given full liberty most of the time, with freedom to use thecanoes for fishing in the lake, or to wander in the woods studyingtrees, bird and insect life, as the varying tastes of the boys prompted.One of the most enjoyable treats of the boys was that of story telling.This took place in the evening after supper, the extinguishment of theoutdoor fires, the putting away of the dishes and the setting of thingsto rights. Scout Master Hall was never at a loss for an instructive oramusing "yarn," but was too wise to give the boys a surfeit. Heencouraged them in the discussion of different subjects, to explain whatthey had read and to try their own skill at story telling.
"Never hurry in relating anything," said he, "for to do so is to weakenits effect and cause impatience on the part of your listeners. Try tobring out all the points; don't grow garrulous or wander from the mainthread; don't preach, or fish for a moral where there isn't any, andfinally stop when you are through.
"Now, nothing is more certain than that Uncle Elk has an exhaustlessfund of stories in his wealth of knowledge and experience. You have mewith you always--or at least a good deal of the time--while we shall nothave him half as much as we wish. Let us, therefore, use him while wecan. Uncle Elk, tell us a story."
Every boy clapped his hands and looked expectantly at the old gentlemansitting modestly in the background. He bowed in recognition, while thosewho were seated in chairs shifted them around and those on the flooradjusted their positions so as to face him.
"As Michael would say, this is so sudden that I am uncertain for themoment how best to comply with your wishes; but while listening to theexamination of our young friend and the well chosen words of Mr. Hall, Icalled to mind the record of a man who lived and died many years beforeany of you were born, and who in many respects will serve as a model forall Boy Scouts."
And this is the story which Uncle Elk told, and concerning which I wishmerely to say that it is strictly true in every particular:
"One of the strangest characters who had to do with the settlement ofthe Middle West was Jonathan Chapman, born in New England in 1770. Hewas of gentle birth, and well educated, but was ill treated by a youngwoman. I have never heard the particulars, but it is said she turned himaway in favor of another person, and Chapman felt so bad he made anexile of himself.
"Now, boys, quite likely when you become a few years older, you willmeet some young woman who you will feel sure is the finest person of hersex that ever lived, and perhaps you will think life isn't worth whileunless you can win her love. I hope you will have no suchdisappointments, but, if you do, don't let it break your heart. You haveheard the old saying that there are as fine fish in the sea as ever werecaught. So there are thousands of excellent girls and if you don't gainthe first one you fix your affections upon, brace up and look around foranother."
"And 'spose she likewise turns ye down, as was the case wid TimO'Shaughnessy in Ireland, who was rejected by more young leddies than hecould kaap count of?" gravely inquired Mike Murphy.
"Stick to it; never give up the ship."
"I'll sind yer advice to Tim, though I misgive me that he will die ofold age while the search is still going on, but he must find enj'ymentin coorting or he wouldn't keep at it as he does and smile all thetime."
"Well, to go back to Jonathan Chapman. He felt so bad that he packed uphis belongings and left New England forever. He started for the West asit was then called and the next heard of him was in what are now thestates of Ohio, Illinois and Kentucky, which at that time formed a partof the vast, wild Northwest Territory. He tramped by himself among thescattered settlements and visited the different tribes of Indians, whoin those years were continually on the war path; but no red man, nomatter how fierce, ever tried to harm Chapman."
"How was that?" asked Alvin Landon, voicing the surprise of the otherboys.
"The Indians believe that any one whose brain is unbalanced, or who isseemingly lacking in some of his mental faculties, is under the specialcare of the Great Spirit, and instead of trying to injure such a personthey will befriend him."
Mike nudged Alvin and said in an undertone which, however, every oneheard:
"Ye needn't be afeared, me friend, to spend your days among the same redgintlemen."
Alvin shook his fist at his friend, who dodged an imaginary blow. UncleElk smiled at the by-play and continued:
"In some respects Chapman was a model Scout, for no kinder hearted manever lived. He would never kill an animal unless to save his own lifeand even then he grieved over the necessity which made him do it. Whenhe almost stepped upon a coiled rattler, he would turn aside and leavehim unharmed. One cold night he started a fire at the base of a huge oakin the woods. A few minutes later he heard a great scratching inside thehollow trunk and the snout of a she-bear was thrust out of the openingabove his head. She and her cubs were alarmed by the unusual proceedingand she seemed to be getting ready to make a change of quarters with herfamily. Chapman instantly kicked apart the burning brands and left. Thestory is that he sat and shivered in other quarters the night through,but I can't see the necessity for that and I must think he kindled a newfire after making sure he did not disturb any wild creature.
"Chapman is remembered in the history of the Middle West as 'JohnnyAppleseed,' because he thought it was his mission to distribute appleseeds among the settlers and Indians, asking only that they should beplanted and the king of all fruits cultivated. With a bag thus filledand slung over his shoulder, he tramped for hundreds of miles throughall sorts of weather, sometimes paddling down or up a river, sleepingwherever night overtook him, often in Indian lodges and again in thelonely cabin of some settler, or by the camp fire of a party of scoutsfar in the depths of the wilderness. Whoever his hosts might be hepresented them with handfuls of seeds and made them promise to plant andtend the fruit. Very few failed to keep their promise to him.
"You will not be surprised when I add that Johnny Appleseed was deeplyreligious. He spent hours in prayer and tried to employ his waking timejust as he believed his Heavenly Father wished him to use it. He was aSwedenborgian in faith, and in addition to the stock of appleseeds healways carried a number of tracts which he distributed among hisfriends. Since the Indians could not read the printed words, he toldthem of the Great Spirit as he believed him to be, and who shall saythat such precious seed did not bear fruitage?
"When his supply of tracts ran low, he tore them into separate sheetsand divided them among the scouts and settlers accompanying them with afew words of counsel. The hardy men might jest with him at times butthey never purposely hurt his feelings. Simon Kenton, one of thegreatest of all the western scouts, kept for years the tracts which hereceived from Johnny Appleseed. You may not know it, but Kenton in hislater days became a humble Christian. He had a fine voice and often ledthe singing at the famous camp meetings in the West.
"But to return to Johnny Appleseed. Year after year, in summer andwinter, in storm and sunshine, he tramped the lonely wilderness, orguided his dugout up and down the rivers and streams, distributingtracts and seeds, giving good advice and showing by his conduct that helived as close to his Saviour as mortal man can live.
"One summer afternoon he landed on the shore of the Ohio, and with hisplump bag of seeds over his shoulder, plunged into the woods. He was onhis way to a village of Wyandots, where he was sure of welcome. Beforehe reached the place, he came upon nearly a hundred warriors gathered ina large natural clearing. They were running races, wrestling, throwingthe tomahawk and firing at targets. Moreover, the
ir faces were daubedwith black and red paint.
"The first glance told Johnny the truth. These red men were about to goon the war path. A raid had been planned upon the frontier settlements,and fire, destruction and massacre would again sweep along the border asit had done many times. Did Johnny argue or plead with them? He was toowise to do that. He passed in and out among the fierce bucks, addressingthe leaders by name, giving them handfuls of seeds and saying somethingpleasant to each. He even stood by and praised their skill inmarksmanship and athletic sports. Not an Indian showed the slightestdistrust, but treated him with as much kindness as if he belonged totheir own race and meant to take part with them in the raid near athand.
"Johnny stayed with them for more than an hour, then said good bye andwith the bag over his shoulder strolled toward the river bank where hehad left his dugout. As soon as he was beyond sight, he dropped hisburden to the ground and ran like a deer. Leaping into the crude craft,he sent it skimming over the water like a swallow, never pausing untilhe had gone five or six miles. Then he caught sight of that for which hewas hunting,--the gleam of a tiny point of light in the denseundergrowth along shore. He sped like an arrow to it and hardly pausedto draw his boat on the bank when he dashed to the camp fire with ashout. Had he not called out his name, he probably would have been shotby one of the three scouts who were broiling their evening meal, for therule with those hardy fellows was to shoot first and investigateafterward.
"One of the party was Simon Kenton. They were out on a scout because ofrumors of impending trouble among the Shawnees, Wyandots and othertribes. The story which Johnny Appleseed told made further scouting ontheir part unnecessary: the red men were about to start on the war pathand no time was to be lost in warning the settlements and exposedpioneers.
"Ten minutes after the arrival of the messenger the four had scattered,all taking different directions and hurrying with the speed of the windthrough the dark wilderness. It would have been throwing effort away tokeep together or to travel in couples. By breaking apart they couldreach as many different points without unnecessary delay and thus makethe warning more general.
"Now, while Kenton and each of his comrades made all haste toward thesettlements, Johnny Appleseed put forth every effort to reach the homeof a pioneer acquaintance who lived by himself with his wife and twosmall children. It was only a few miles off and was certain to bevisited by a small party of Wyandots, who would draw away from the mainband long enough to destroy the family that, having no suspicion oftheir danger, would be caught unawares.
"The incident which followed sounds unbelievable and yet it was only oneof several similar ones. Despite Johnny's haste when he reached theclearing in front of the cabin, he discovered a party of a dozenWyandots, in the act of surrounding the house with the intention ofsetting it on fire and burning the inmates to death. The red men weretoo powerful and well prepared to be beaten off by the single defender.Johnny carried no gun, his only weapon being a large knife, which heused in preparing food or his camp fire. Besides, he was ready at anytime to give up his life rather than fight.
"What he did do was to rush in among the painted warriors and addressthem like some inspired prophet sent of heaven. He told them the GreatSpirit would be angry if they harmed the white man who had always beentheir friend, and that disaster would assuredly overtake them in theirmore important attack upon the settlements. His message was from theGreat Spirit and woe to them if they closed their ears to his warningwords!
"Well, he must have had a hard time of it, but he played his part toperfection. In the end, the band of redskins drew off and went back tothe main company, the settler whom Johnny had saved never dreaming ofhis danger or suspecting what had taken place, until Johnny told him thestory many years afterwards. I may add that the main campaign provedwhat they called in those days a 'flash in the pan,' since the messageof Johnny Appleseed gave Kenton and his two companions just enough timein which to reach the stockades that otherwise might have been captured.
"I might tell you many stories of the remarkable man known as JohnnyAppleseed, who spent his life in doing good in his own peculiar way. AsI said at the beginning, he was an ideal Boy Scout grown to maturity,whose sole purpose was to help his fellow men. _That_ is the basis ofour organization. Every boy and girl, every man and woman, can dosomething, and God judges you only by the improvement you make of youropportunities. It may not be yours to wander through the woods,distributing seeds and tracts and giving good counsel, but you can speakthe cheering word, encourage the discouraged one, cheerfully obey yourparents and teachers, help the feeble and downhearted and do hundreds ofthings which, small of themselves, amount in the end to more than youcan estimate. The consciousness that comes to you when you do somethingof that kind repays you a hundred fold.
"Some folks say that Jonathan Chapman or Johnny Appleseed was crazy.Measured according to our standards, perhaps he was mentally unbalanced,but I have sometimes fancied that he was one of the sanest of men, forhe gave his all for humanity. He thought and cared nothing for his owncomfort. He often went hungry, shivered with cold or panted with heat,but so long as life lasted he never fainted by the way."
"How long did he live?" asked the Scout Master.
"Until about three-score and ten. The last picture that we have of himis standing on an eminence and looking down with radiant face on one ofthe most beautiful panoramas that mind can picture. His long thin grayhair dangled over his shoulders, his beard was white and scraggling, hehad no cap or coat, the only garment being a shaggy buffalo skin wrappedabout his gaunt body, with his legs below his knees bare. One of theleather bags was slung over his shoulder, and a staff was in his hand.
"He died in 1847, and of him it may be said his labors bore fruit over ahundred thousand square miles of territory. Limitless acres of choicestapples in the Middle West sprang from the seeds which he scattered overthat vast region. His birthday--January 15--will always be honored bythe pomological societies of America."