Staunton Spectator

J. J. Whittier, formerly Editor of the New England Weekly Review, and a poet of uncommon celebrity for his years, lately published a volume of tales and sketches under the title of "Legends of New England." We extract the following tale, of the famous power of fascination possessed by or attributed to the serpent species. It is entitled

THE RATTLESNAKE HUNTER.

"Until my ghastly tale be told,
This heart within me burns."

Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner.

During a delightful excursion in the vicinity of the Green Mountains, a few years since, I had the good fortune to meet with a singular character, known in many parts of Vermont as the Rattlesnake Hunter. It was a warm, clear day of sunshine, in the middle of June, that I saw him for the first time, while engaged in a mineralogical ramble among the hills. His head was bald, and his forehead was deeply marked with care and age. His form was wasted and meagre; and but for the fiery vigor of his eye he might have been supposed incapacitated by age and infirmities for even a slight exertion.

Yet he hurried over rude ledges of rock with a quick and almost youthful tread; and seemed earnestly searching among the crevices and loose crags and stinted bushes around him. All at once, he started suddenly—drew himself back with a sort of shuddering recoil—and then smote fiercely with his staff upon the rock before him. Another and another blow—and he lifted the lithe and crushed form of a large rattlesnake upon the end of his rod.

The old man's eye glistened, but his lip trembled as he looked steadfastly upon his yet writhing victim. "Another of the accursed race!" he muttered between his clenched teeth, apparently unconscious of my presence.

I was now satisfied that the person before me was none other than the famous Rattlesnake Hunter. He was known throughout the neighborhood as an outcast and a wanderer, obtaining a miserable subsistence from the usual charities of the people around him. His time was mostly spent among the rocks and rude hills, where his only object seemed to be hunting out and destroying the dreaded Rattlesnake. I immediately determined to satisfy my curiosity, which had been strangely excited by the remarkable appearance and behavior of the stranger; and for this purpose I approached him.

"Are there many of these reptiles in this vicinity?" I inquired, pointing to the crushed serpent.

"They are getting to be scarce," said the old man, lifting his slouched hat and wiping his bald brow; "I have known the time when you could hardly stir ten rods from your door in this part of the State without hearing their low quick rattle at your side, or seeing their many-colored bodies coiling up in your path. But, as I said before, they are getting to be scarce—the infernal race will be extinct in a few years,—and thank God, I have myself been a considerable cause of their extermination."

"You must, of course, know the nature of these creatures perfectly well," said I: "do you believe in the power of their fascination or charming?"

The old man's countenance fell.—There was a visible struggle of feeling within him; for his lip quivered, and he dashed his deep brown hand suddenly across his eyes, as if to conceal a tear.—But quickly recovering himself he answered, in the low, deep voice of one about to reveal a horrible secret

"I believe in the Rattlesnake's power of fascination as firmly as I believe in my own existence."

"Surely," said I, "you do not believe that they have power over human beings"

"I do—I know it to be so!"—and the old man trembled as he spoke.—

"You are a stranger to me," he said slowly, after scrutinizing my features for a moment, "but if you will go down with me to the foot of this rock, in the shade there,"—and he pointed to a group of leaning oaks that hung over the declivity,—"I will tell you a sad and strange story of my own experience."

It may be supposed that I readily assented to this proposal. Bestowing one more blow on the rattlesnake, as if to be certain of his death, the old man descended the rocks with a rapidity which would have endangered the neck of a less practised hunter. After reaching the place which he had pointed out, the Rattlesnake Hunter commenced his story in a manner which confirmed what I had previously heard of his education and intellectual strength.

"I was among the earliest settlers of this part of the country. I had just finished my education at the University of Harvard, when I was induced, by the flattering representations of some of the earlier pioneers into the wild lands beyond the Connecticut, to seek my fortune in the new settlements. My wife"—the old man's eye glistened an instant, and then a tear crossed his brown cheek—"my wife accompanied me, young and delicate and beautiful as she was to this wild and rude country. I shall never forgive myself for bringing her hither—never! Young man," he continued, "you look like one who could pity me. You shall see the image of the girl who followed me to the new country." And he unbound, as he spoke, a ribbon from his neck, with a small miniature attached to it. It was that of a beautiful female. She might have been twenty years of age,—but there was an almost childish expression in her countenance—a softness, a sweetness, and a delicacy of smile, which I have seldom seen in the features of those who have tasted, ever slightly, of the bitter waters of existence. The old man watched my countenance intently, as I surveyed the image of his early love.

"She must have been very beautiful," said I, as I returned the picture.

"Beautiful," he repeated "you may well say so. But this avails nothing.—I have a fearful story to tell; would to God I had never attempted it but I will go on. My heart has been stretched too often on the rack of memory to suffer any new pangs.

"We had resided in the new country nearly a year. Our settlements had increased rapidly, and the comforts and delicacies of life were beginning to be felt, after the weary privations and severe trials to which we had been subjected. The red men were few and feeble, and did not molest us. The beasts of the forest and the mountain were ferocious, but we suffered little from them. The only immediate danger to which we were exposed, resulted from the Rattlesnakes which infested our neighborhood. Three or four of our settlers were bitten by them, and died in terrible agonies. The Indians often told us frightful stories of this snake, and although they were generally believed, yet for myself, I confess, I was rather amused than convinced by their marvellous legends.

"In one of my hunting excursions abroad, on a fine morning—it was at this time of year—I was accompanied by my wife. It was a beautiful morning. The sunshine was warm, but the atmosphere was perfectly clear; and a fine breeze from the north-west shook the bright, green leaves which clothed to profusion the wreathing branches above us. I had left my companion for a short time, in pursuit of game: and in climbing a rugged ledge of rocks, interspersed with shrubs and dwarfish trees, I was startled by a quick grating rattle.—I looked forward. On the edge of a loosened rock, lay a large Rattlesnake, coiling himself, as if for the deadly spring. He was within a few feet of me; and I paused for an instant to survey him. I know not why, but I stood still, and looked at the deadly serpent with a strange feeling of curiosity. Suddenly he unwound his coil, as if relenting from his purpose of hostility; and raising his head, he fixed his bright fiery eye, directly upon my own.

A chilling and indescribable sensation, totally different from anything I had ever before experienced, followed this movement of the serpent; but I stood still, and gazed steadily and earnestly for at that moment there was a visible change in the reptile. His form seemed to grow larger and his colors brighter. His body moved with a slow, almost imperceptible motion towards me and a low hum of music came from him—or, at least, it sounded in my ear—a strange, sweet melody, faint as that which melts from the throat of the mocking bird. Then the tints of his skin deepened, and changed, and glowed like the changes of a beautiful kaleidoscope,—green, purple and gold. I lost sight of the serpent entirely saw only wild and curiously woven circles of strange colors, quivering before me, like an atmosphere of rainbows I seemed in the centre of a great—a world of mysterious colors; and the tints varied, and darkened, and lightened up again around me: and the music went on without ceasing, until my brain reeled, and fear, for the first time came like a shadow over me.

The sensation gained on me rapidly could feel the cold sweat gushing my brow. I had no certainty germ in my mind—no definite idea of peril—all was vague and clouded with the unaccountable terrors of a dream yet my limbs shook, and I felt could feel the blood stiffening in my veins. I have given worlds to have been able to tear myself from the spot—I attempted to do so; but the body not obey the impulse of the mind.—No muscle stirred : and I stood still, as my feet had grown to the solid rock with the infernal music of the tempter in my ear, and the beautiful colorings of his enchantment before me.

"Suddenly a new sound came on my ear—it was a human voice ; but it seemed strange and awful. Again—again—but I stirred not; and then a white form plunged before me, and grasped my arm. The horrible spell was at once broken. The strange colors passed from before my vision. The Rattlesnake was coiling at my very feet, with glowing eyes and uplifted fangs; and my wife was clinging in terror upon me.—The next instant the serpent threw himself upon us. My wife was the victim. The fatal fangs pierced deeply into her hand: and her scream of agony, as she fell backward from me, told me the dreadful truth.

"Then it was that a feeling of madness came upon me; and when I saw the foul serpent stealing away from the work of death, reckless of danger, I sprang forward and crushed him under my feet, grinding him in pieces upon the ragged rock. The groans of my wife now recalled me to her side, and to the horrible reality of her situation. There was a dark, livid spot on her hand. It deepened into blackness as I led her away. We were at a considerable distance from any dwelling; and, after wandering for a short time, the pain of her wound became insupportable to my wife, and she swooned away in my arms. Weak and exhausted as I was, I had yet strength enough remaining to carry her to the nearest rivulet, and bathe her brow in the cool water. She partially recovered and sat down upon the bank, while I supported her head upon my bosom. Hour after hour passed away, and no one came near us—alone, in the great wilderness, I watched over her, and prayed with her—and she died!"

The old man groaned audibly as he uttered these words; and, as he clasped his long, bony hands over his eyes, I could see the tears falling thickly through his gaunt fingers. After a momentary struggle with his feelings, he lifted his head once more, and there was a fierce light in his eye as he spoke:

"But I have had my revenge. From that fatal moment I have felt myself fitted and set apart, by the terrible ordeal of affliction, to rid the land of my abode of its foulest curse. And I have well nigh succeeded. The fascinating demons grow few and powerless. Do not imagine," said he, earnestly regarding the somewhat equivocal expression of my countenance, "that I consider those creatures as serpents only—creeping serpents; they are the servants of the fallen Angel—the immediate ministers of the infernal Gulf!"

Years have passed since my interview with the Rattlesnake Hunter: the place of his abode has changed—beautiful village rises near the spot of our conference, and the grass of the church-yard is green over the grave of the old Hunter. But his story is yet fixed upon my mind; and time, like enamel, only burns deeper the first impression. It comes up before me like a vividly remembered dream, whose features are too horrible for reality.