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diff --git a/39278-h/39278-h.htm b/39278-h/39278-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..697c954 --- /dev/null +++ b/39278-h/39278-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10929 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Portland Sketch Book, by Ann S. Stephens (editor). + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} +ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} +.tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; +margin-right: 10%;padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; +padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + +.hebrew { + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: right; + margin-bottom: .75em; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 20%; +} + +.translit { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: left; + margin-bottom: .75em; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 20%; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +/* Vertical Spacing */ + +.medskip { +padding-top: 1em; +} + +.bigskip { +padding-top: 1.25em; +} + +.hugeskip { +padding-top: 3em; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} +.author { + margin-right: 15%; + text-align: right;} + + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ + +.cpoem1 {width: 40%; margin: 0 auto;} +.cpoem1 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} +.cpoem1 span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} +.cpoem1 span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 1em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} +.cpoem1 span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} +.cpoem1 span.i6 { + display: block; + margin-left: 3em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} + + +.cpoem2 {width: 60%; margin: 0 auto;} +.cpoem2 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} +.cpoem2 span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} +.cpoem2 span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 1em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} +.cpoem2 span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} +.cpoem2 span.i10 { + display: block; + margin-left: 5em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} +.cpoem2 span.i22 { + display: block; + margin-left: 11em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} + +.transnote {background-color:#EEE; color: inherit; margin: 2em 10% 1em 10%; +font-size: 80%; padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em; text-align: left;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Portland Sketch Book, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Portland Sketch Book + +Author: Various + +Editor: Ann S. Stephens + +Release Date: March 27, 2012 [EBook #39278] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PORTLAND SKETCH BOOK *** + + + + +Produced by Roberta Staehlin, JoAnn Greenwood, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="transnote"><h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> + +<p>In "Descriptions of the Divine Being," P. 96, the block quote inside ~ +(tilde) marks is a transliteration of the Hebrew. The transliteration +was not present in the original and has been added by the transcriber; +[h.] is used for Het, to distinguish it from h for Hey. The UTF8 and +HTML versions also have the Hebrew script shown in the original.</p> + +<p>Remaining transcriber's notes are at the end of the text.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/halftitle_grey.jpg" width="500" height="600" alt="half-title image" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2> +THE</h2> +<div class="medskip"></div> +<h1>PORTLAND SKETCH BOOK.</h1> +<div class="bigskip"></div> +<h3>EDITED BY</h3> + +<h2>MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.</h2> +<div class="hugeskip"></div> +<h4>PORTLAND:<br /> +COLMAN & CHISHOLM.</h4> + +<h5>Arthur Shirley, Printer.</h5> +<h4>1836.</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> + + +<blockquote><p>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1836, by +<span class="smcap">Edward Stephens</span>, in the Clerk's Office of the District +Court of Maine.</p></blockquote> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>The object of the Portland Sketch-Book, is to collect +in a small compass, literary specimens from such authors +as have a just claim to be styled Portland writers. +The list might have been extended to a much +greater length, had all been included who have made +our city a place of transient residence; but no writer +has a place in this volume who is not, or has not been, +a citizen of Portland, either by birth or a long residence. +Therefore, all the names contained in these +pages are emphatically those of Portland authors. +Among those who were actually born here and either +wholly, or in part educated here, will be found the following +names, most of which are already known to the +world of literature.</p> + +<p>S. B. Beckett—James Brooks—William Cutter—Charles +S. Daveis—Nathaniel Deering—P. H. Greenleaf—Charles +P. Ilsley—Joseph Ingraham—Geo. W. +Light—Henry W. Longfellow—Grenville Mellen—Frederick +Mellen—Isaac McLellan, Jr.—John Neal—Elizabeth +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span>Smith—William Willis—N. P. Willis.</p> + +<p>Considering the population of our city—hardly fifteen +thousand at this time—the list itself we apprehend will +be considered as not the least remarkable part of the +book.</p> + +<p>It was the design of the Publishers to furnish a book +composed of original articles from all our living authors, +and to select only from those who have been lost +to us; but though great exertions were made, the editor +found much difficulty in collecting original materials, +even after they had been promised by almost every +individual to whom she applied. According to the +original design, each living author was to have contributed +a limited number of pages; but after frequent disappointments, +all restrictions were taken off; each +writer furnished as many original pages as suited his +pleasure, and the deficiency was supplied by selected +articles. In her selections, the editor has endeavored +to do impartial justice to our authors, and, in almost +every instance, she has been guided by them in her +choice. If in any case she has been obliged to exercise +her own judgment, in contradiction to theirs, it +was because the publishers had restricted her to a certain +number of pages, and the articles proposed would +have swelled the volume beyond the prescribed limits. +<i>Original</i> papers are inserted exactly as they were +supplied by their separate authors. A general invitation +was extended; therefore it should give no offence, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span>if those who have contributed largely fill the greater +portion of the Book, to the exclusion of much excellent +matter, which might have been selected. Several +writers who did not forward their contributions as expected, +have been omitted altogether, as the editor +could find nothing of theirs extant which was adapted +to a work strictly literary.</p> + +<p>In order to avoid all appearance of partiality, it has +been thought advisable to make an alphabetical arrangement +of names, and to let chance decide the position +of each author in the Book.</p> + +<p>The compiler has a word of apology to offer, before +she consigns her little book to the public. Reasons +which will be easily understood would have prevented +her appropriating any considerable portion to herself; +but she had contracted with the publishers to furnish a +volume, which should be at least two thirds original, +and when the pages forwarded to her were found insufficient +for her object, she was obliged, however unwillingly, +to supply the deficiency.</p> + +<p>The Editor now submits her Portland Book to the +public, with much solicitude that it may meet with +approbation—feeling +certain that indulgence would be +extended to her, could it be known how much labor +and difficulty have attended her slender exertions, in +the literature of a city she has never ceased to love.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> + +<p>P. S. Among the papers omitted from necessity, is +one by the Rev. Dr. Nichols, which, owing to accident, +did not arrive till the arrangements for the work were +entirely completed. In the absence of the Editor, +whose own leading article arrived <i>almost</i> too late for +insertion, we have taken the liberty to state the facts, +that our readers may understand the cause of an omission +so extraordinary.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#PREFACE">Preface</a></td><td align="right">iii</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#DIAMOND_COVE">Diamond Cove—By S. B. Beckett</a></td><td align="right">9</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#OUR_OWN_COUNTRY">Our Own Country—By James Brooks</a></td><td align="right">13</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_DART">The Cruise of The Dart—By S. B. Beckett</a></td><td align="right">21</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#TO_M_ON_HER_BIRTH-DAY">To M—, on her Birth-Day,—By William Cutter</a></td><td align="right">59</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#RELIGIOUS_OBLIGATION_IN_RULERS">Religious Obligation in Rulers—By John W. Chickering</a></td><td align="right">60</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#A_NEW-ENGLAND_WINTER-SCENE">A New-England Winter Scene—By William Cutter</a></td><td align="right">74</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#LOCH_KATRINE">Loch Katrine—By N. H. Carter</a></td><td align="right">78</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#WORSHIP">Worship—By Asa Cummings</a></td><td align="right">82</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_VALLEY_OF_SILENCE">The Valley of Silence—By William Cutter</a></td><td align="right">86</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#DESCRIPTIONS_OF_THE_DIVINE_BEING">Descriptions of The Divine Being—By Gershom F. Cox</a></td><td align="right">88</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_FRENCH_REVOLUTION">The French Revolution—By Charles S. Daveis</a></td><td align="right">98</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#MRS_SYKES">Mrs. Sykes—From the papers of Dr. Tonic, recently brought to light—By Nathaniel Deering</a></td><td align="right">102</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#OLD_AND_YOUNG">Old and Young—By James Furbish</a></td><td align="right">115</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#AUTUMNAL_DAYS">Autumnal Days—By P. H. Greenleaf</a></td><td align="right">119</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_PLAGUE">The Plague—By Charles P. Ilsley</a></td><td align="right">123</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#OH_THIS_IS_NOT_MY_HOME">'Oh, This is not My Home'—By Charles P. Ilsley</a></td><td align="right">125</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_VILLAGE_PRIZE">The Village Prize—By Joseph Ingraham</a></td><td align="right">126</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#INDIFFERENCE_TO_STUDY">Indifference to Study—By George W. Light</a></td><td align="right">134</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> +<a href="#THE_VILLAGE_OF_AUTEUIL">The Village of Auteuil—By Henry W. Longfellow</a></td><td align="right">138</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_PAST_AND_THE_NEW_YEAR">The Past and The New Year—By Prentiss Mellen</a></td><td align="right">145</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_RUIN_OF_A_NIGHT">The Ruin of a Night—By Grenville Mellen</a></td><td align="right">150</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#COURTSHIP">Courtship—By William L. McClintock</a></td><td align="right">152</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#VENETIAN_MOONLIGHT">Venetian Moonlight—By Frederick Mellen</a></td><td align="right">158</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#BALLOONING">Ballooning—By I. McLellan, Jr.</a></td><td align="right">160</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ODE">Ode—By Grenville Mellen</a></td><td align="right">166</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_BOYS_MOUNTAIN_SONG">The Boy's Mountain Song—By I. McLellan, Jr.</a></td><td align="right">167</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_UNCHANGEABLE_JEW">The Unchangeable Jew—By John Neal</a></td><td align="right">168</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#A_WAR-SONG_OF_THE_REVOLUTION">A War-Song of The Revolution—By John Neal</a></td><td align="right">183</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#MUSINGS_ON_MUSIC">Musings on Music—By James F. Otis</a></td><td align="right">185</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#SIN_ESTIMATED_BY_THE_LIGHT_OF_HEAVEN">Sin estimated by the Light of Heaven—By Edward Payson</a></td><td align="right">194</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_WAY_OF_THE_SOUL">The Way of the Soul—By L. S. P.</a></td><td align="right">200</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#FRAGMENTS_OF_AN_ADDRESS_ON_MUSIC">Fragments of An Address on Music—By Edward Payson</a></td><td align="right">206</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_BLUSH">The Blush—By Mrs. Elizabeth Smith</a></td><td align="right">212</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_WIDOWED_BRIDE">The Widowed Bride—By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens</a></td><td align="right">216</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#JACK_DOWNINGS_VISIT_TO_PORTLAND">Jack Downing's Visit to Portland—By Seba Smith</a></td><td align="right">227</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_DESERTED_WIFE">The Deserted Wife—By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens</a></td><td align="right">272</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#PORTLAND_AS_IT_WAS">Portland as it Was—By William Willis</a></td><td align="right">231</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_CHEROKEES_THREAT">The Cherokee's Threat—By N. P. Willis</a></td><td align="right">239</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#GRECIAN_AND_ROMAN_ELOQUENCE">Grecian and Roman Eloquence—By Ashur Ware</a></td><td align="right">256</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#RELIGION">Religion—By Jason Whitman</a></td><td align="right">269</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +</p> + +<h2>THE<br /> +PORTLAND SKETCH BOOK.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DIAMOND_COVE" id="DIAMOND_COVE"></a>DIAMOND COVE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A beauteous Cove, amid the isles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sprinkle Casco's winding bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, like an Eden, nature smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all her wild and rich array.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis sheltered from the ocean's roar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By beetling crags and foam-girt rifts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mossy trees, that ages hoar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have braved the sea-gales on its cliffs!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The broad-armed oak, the beech and pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And elm, their branches intertwine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above its tranquil, glassy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that the sun finds scarcely space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At mid-day, for his fervid beam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shimmer on the limpid stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in its rugged, sparry caves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worn by the winter's tempest waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleams many a crystal wildly bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like <i>diamonds</i>, flashing radiant light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hence the fairy spot is 'hight.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The forests far extending round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er to the spoiler's axe resound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is man's toil or traces there;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">But resteth all as lone and fair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sunny slopes, the rocks and trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As desert isles in Indian seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sometimes rise upon the view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some far-wandering, wind-bound crew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeping alone mid ocean's blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The lonely ospray rears her brood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the forest-solitude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the long, bright summer day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ocean, calm as mountain lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bears not a breath its hush to break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snow-winged sea-gull tilts away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the long, smooth swell, that sweeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In curving, wide, unbroken reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the cove from outer deeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unwinding up the pebbly beach.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oft blithly ring the wide old woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within their loneliest solitudes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To youthful shout, and song, and glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And viol's merry minstrelsy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When summer's stirless, sultry air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pervades the city's thoroughfare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drives the throng to seek the shades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of these green, zephyr-breathing glades!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dance goes round; the trunks so tall—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rough columns of the festal hall—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sustain a broad and lofty roof<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of nature's greenest, loveliest woof!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The maiden weaves, in lieu of wreath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bending fern-plumes in her hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild flowers with scented breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That spring to blossom every where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around; the forest's dream-like rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drives care and sorrow from each breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes the worn and weary blest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And when the broad, dim waters blush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the tints of ebbing day,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">When comes the moon out in the hush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of eve, with mellow, timid ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And twilight lingers far away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the blue waste, the fisher's skiff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes dancing in, and 'neath the cliff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is moored to rest, till morning's train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beams with fresh beauty o'er the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wakes him to his toil again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O, lovely there is sunset-hour!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When twilight falls with soothing power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the forest-windings dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the thicket, sweet and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The red-breast tunes a farewell hymn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To daylight's latest, lingering glow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When slope, and rock, and wood around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all their dreamy, hushed repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are glassed adown the bright profound—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And passing fair is evening's close!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When from the bright, cerulean dome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea-fowl, that have all the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wheeled o'er the far, lone billows' spray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come thronging to their eyries home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When over rock and wave, remote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From yon dim fort, the bugle's note<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the listening air doth creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeming to steal down from the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or with out-bursting, martial sweep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rings through the forests, clanging high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While echo waked bears on the strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till faint, beyond the trackless main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In realms of space it seems to die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lovelier still is night's calm noon!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When like a sea-nymph's fairy bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mirrored crescent of the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swings on the waters weltering dark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her solitary beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon each bald, storm-beaten height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The quartz and mica wildly gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spangling the rocks with magic light;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when a silvery minstrelsy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is swelling o'er the dim-lit sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As of some wandering fairy throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passing on viewless wing along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tuning their spirit-lyres to song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the night's soft breeze comes out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a moment breathes about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shaking a burst of fresh perfume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From every honied bell and bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Startling the tall pine from its rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sleeping wood-bird in her nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or kissing the bright water's breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then stealing off into the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if it were a thing afraid!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The Indian prized this beauteous spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of old; beneath the embowering shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He reared his rude and simple cot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And round these wild shores where they played<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In youth, still—pilgrims from the bourn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of far Penobscot's sinuous stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aged and bowed, and weary worn—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lingering they love to stray, and dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the proud hopes possessed of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When forest, isle and mainland shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For many a league, owned but their sway;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, on the labyrinthine bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now checkered o'er with many a sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone his lightsome birch canoe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast, by the bright, green islets flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor bark spread canvas to the gale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Matchless retreat! mayst aye remain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As wild, as natural and free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As now thou art; nor hope of gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor enterprize a motive be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lay thy hoary forests low;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gold ne'er can make thy beauties glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor enterprize restore thy pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When once the monarchs round thy tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have felt the exterminating blow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="OUR_OWN_COUNTRY" id="OUR_OWN_COUNTRY"></a>OUR OWN COUNTRY.</h2> + +<h3>By James Brooks.</h3> + + +<p>What nation presents such a spectacle as ours, of a +confederated government, so complicated, so full of +checks and balances, over such a vast extent of territory, +with so many varied interests, and yet moving so +harmoniously! I go within the walls of the capitol at +Washington, and there, under the star-spangled banners +that wave amid its domes, I find the representatives of +three territories, and of twenty-four nations, nations in +many senses they may be called, that have within them +all the germ and sinew to raise a greater people than +many of the proud principalities of Europe, all speaking +one language—all acting with one heart, and all +burning with the same enthusiasm—the love and glory +of our common country,—even if parties do exist, and +bitter domestic quarrels now and then arise. I take my +map, and I mark from whence they come. What a +breadth of latitude, and of longitude, too,—in the fairest +portion of North-America! What a variety of climate,—and +then what a variety of production! What +a stretch of sea-coast, on two oceans—with harbors +enough for all the commerce of the world! What an +immense national domain, surveyed, and unsurveyed, +of extinguished, and unextinguished Indian titles within +the States and Territories, and without, estimated, in +the aggregate, to be 1,090,871,753 acres, and to be +worth the immense sum of <ins title="Transcriber's Note: +alternatively '1,363,589,69 dollars,--' see full note at end">$1,363,589,69,—</ins>750,000,000 +acres of which are without the bounds of the States<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +and the territories, and are yet to make new States +and to be admitted into the Union! Our annual revenue, +now, from the sales, is over three millions of dollars. +Our national debt, too, is already more than extinguished,—and +yet within fifty-eight years, starting with +a population of about three millions, we have fought +the War of Independence, again not ingloriously struggled +with the greatest naval power in the world, fresh +with laurels won on sea and land,—and now we have +a population of over thirteen millions of souls. One +cannot feel the grandeur of our Republic, unless he +surveys it in detail. For example, a Senator in Congress, +from Louisiana, has just arrived in Washington. +Twenty days of his journey he passed in a steam-boat +on inland waters,—moving not so rapidly, perhaps, as +other steam-boats sometimes move, in deeper waters,—but +constantly moving, at a quick pace too, day and +night. I never shall forget the rapture of a traveller, +who left the green parks of New Orleans early in +March,—that land of the orange and the olive, then +teeming with verdure, freshness and life, and, as it +were, mocking him with the mid-summer of his own +northern home. He journeyed leisurely toward the +region of ice and snow, to watch the budding of the +young flowers, and to catch the breeze of the Spring. +He crossed the Lakes Pontchartrain and Borgne; he +ascended the big Tombeckbee in a comfortable steam-boat. +From Tuscaloosa, he shot athwart the wilds of +Alabama, over Indian grounds, that bloody battles have +rendered ever memorable. He traversed Georgia, the +Carolinas, ranged along the base of the mountains of +Virginia,—and for three months and more, he enjoyed +one perpetual, one unvarying, ever-coming Spring,—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +most delicious season of the year,—till, by the +middle of June, he found himself in the fogs of the +Passamaquoddy, where tardy summer was even then +hesitating whether it was time to come. And yet he +had not been off the soil of his own country! The flag +that he saw on the summit of the fortress, on the lakes +near New Orleans, was the like of that which floated +from the staff on the hills of Fort Sullivan, in the easternmost +extremity of Maine;—and the morning gun +that startled his slumbers, among the rocky battlements +that defy the wild tides of the Bay of Fundy, was not +answered till many minutes after, on the shores of the +Gulf of Mexico. The swamps, the embankments, the +cane-brakes of the Father of Waters, on whose muddy +banks the croaking alligator displayed his ponderous +jaws,—the cotton-fields, the rice-grounds of the low +southern country,—and the vast fields of wheat and +corn in the regions of the mountains, were far, far behind +him:—and he was now, in a Hyperborean land—where +nature wore a rough and surly aspect, and a +cold soil and a cold clime, drove man to launch his +bark upon the ocean, to dare wind and wave, and to +seek from the deep, in fisheries, and from freights, the +treasures his own home will not give him. Indeed, +such a journey as this, in one's own country, to an inquisitive +mind, is worth all 'the tours of Europe.' If +a young American, then, wishes to feel the full importance +of an American Congress, let him make such a +journey. Let him stand on the levee at New Orleans +and count the number and the tiers of American vessels +that there lie, four, five and six thick, on its long embankment. +Let him hear the puff, puff, puff, of the +high-pressure steam-boats, that come sweeping in almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +every hour, perhaps from a port two thousand miles +off,—from the then frozen winter of the North, to the +full burning summer of the South,—all inland navigation,—fleets +of them under his eye,—splendid boats, +too, many of them, as the world can show,—with elegant +rooms, neat berths, spacious saloons, and a costly +piano, it may be,—so that travellers of both sexes can +dance or sing their way to Louisville, as if they were on +a party of pleasure. Let him survey all these, as they +come in with products from the Red River, twelve +hundred miles in one direction, or from Pittsburg, +Pennsylvania, two thousand miles in another direction, +from the western tributaries of the vast Mississippi, the +thickets of the Arkansas, or White River,—from the +muddy, far-reaching Missouri, and its hundreds of +branches:—and then in the east, from the Illinois, the +Ohio, and its numerous tributaries—such as the Tennessee, +the Cumberland, or the meanest of which, such +as the Sandy River, on the borders of Kentucky—that +will in a freshet fret and roar, and dash, as if it were +the Father of Floods, till it sinks into nothing, when +embosomed in the greater stream, and there acknowledges +its own insignificance. Let him see 'the Broad +Horns,' the adventurous flatboats of western waters, on +which—frail bark!—the daring backwoodsman sallies +forth from the Wabash, or rivers hundreds of miles +above, on a voyage of atlantic distance, with hogs—horses—oxen +and cattle of all kinds on board—corn, +flour, wheat, all the products of rich western lands—and +let him see them, too, as he stems the strong current +of the Mississippi, as if the wood on which he floated +was realizing the fable of the Nymphs of Ida—goddesses, +instead of pines. Take the young traveller<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +where the clear, silvery waters of the Ohio become +tinged with the mud from the Missouri, and where the +currents of the mighty rivers run apart for miles, as if +indignant at the strange embrace. Ascend with him +farther, to St. Louis, where, if he looks upon the map +he will find that he is about as near the east as the west, +and that soon, the emigrant, who is borne on the wave +of population that now beats at the base of the Rocky +Mountains, and anon will overleap its summits—will +speak of him as he now speaks of New-England, as far +in the east. And then tell him that far west as he is, +he is but at the beginning of steam navigation—that the +Mississippi itself is navigable six or seven hundred +miles upward—and that steam-boats have actually gone +on the Missouri two thousand one hundred miles above +its mouth, and that they <i>can go</i> five hundred miles farther +still! Take him, then, from this land where the +woodsman is leveling the forest every hour, across +the rich prairies of Illinois, where civilization is throwing +up towns and villages, pointed with the spire of the +church, and adorned with the college and the school,—then +athwart the flourishing fields of Indiana, to Cincinnati,—well +called 'the Queen of the West,'—a city of +thirty thousand inhabitants, with paved streets, numerous +churches, flourishing manufactories, and an intelligent +society too,—and this in a State with a million +of souls in it now, that has undertaken gigantic public +works,—where the fierce savages, even within the +memory of the young men, made the hearts of their +parents quake with fear,—roaming over the forests, as +they did, in unbridled triumph,—wielding the tomahawk +in terror, and ringing the war-hoop like demons of vengeance +let loose from below! Show him our immense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +inland seas, from Green Bay to Lake Ontario,—not +inconsiderable oceans,—encompassed with fertile fields. +Show him the public works of the Empire State, as +well as those of Pennsylvania,—works the wonder of +the world,—such as no people in modern times have +ever equalled. And then introduce him to the busy, +humming, thriving population of New-England, from +the Green Mountains of Vermont, the Switzerland of +America, to the northern lakes and wide sea-coast of +Maine. Show him the industry, energy, skill and ingenuity +of these hardy people, who let not a rivulet +run, nor a puff of wind blow, without turning it to some +account,—who mingle in every thing, speculate in +every thing, and dare every thing wherever a cent of +money is to be earned—whose lumbermen are found +not only in the deepest woods of the snowy and fearful +wilds of Maine, throwing up sawmills on the lone waterfalls, +and making the woods ring with their hissing +music—but found, too, on the banks of the St. Lawrence, +and coming also on mighty rafts of deal from +every eastern tributary of the wild St. John, Meduxnekeag +and Aroostook, streams whose names geographers +hardly know. And then too, as if this were not enough, +they turn their enterprize and form companies 'to log +and lumber,' even on the Ocmulgee and Oconee of the +State of Georgia—and on this day they are actually +found in the Floridas, there planning similar schemes, +and as there are no waterfalls, making steam impel +their saws. Show him the banks of the Penobscot, +now studded with superb villages—jewels of places, +that have sprung up like magic—the magnificent military +road that leads to the United States' garrison at +Houlton, a fairy spot in the wilderness, but approached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +by as excellent a road as the United States can +boast of.</p> + +<p>Show him the hundreds and hundreds of coasters that +run up every creek and inlet of tide-water there, at +times left high and dry, as if the ocean would never +float them more: and then lift him above considerations +of a mercenary character, and show him how +New-England men are perpetuating their high character +and holy love of liberty,—and how, by neat and +elegant churches, that adorn every village,—by comfortable +school-houses, that appear every two miles, or +oftener, upon almost every road, free for every body,—high-born, +and low-born,—by academies and colleges, +that thicken even to an inconvenience; by asylums +and institutions, munificently endowed, for the benefit +of the poor:—and see, too, with what generous pride +their bosoms swell when they go within the consecrated +walls of Faneuil Hall, or point out the heights of Bunker +Hill, or speak of Concord, or Lexington.</p> + +<p>Give any young man such a tour as this—the best +he can make—and I am sure his heart will beat quick, +when he sees the proud spectacle of the assemblage of +the representatives of all these people, and all these +interests, within a single hall. He will more and more +revere the residue of those revolutionary patriots, who +not only left us such a heritage, won by their sufferings +and their blood, but such a constitution—such a government +here in Washington, regulating all our national +concerns—but who have also, in effect, left us twenty-four +other governments, with territory enough to double +them by-and-by—that regulate all the minor concerns +of the people, acting within their own sphere; now, in +the winter, assembling within their various capitols, from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +Jefferson city, on Missouri, to Augusta, on the Kennebec;—from +the capitol on the Hudson, to the government +house on the Mississippi. Show me a spectacle +more glorious, more encouraging, than this, even in +the pages of all history; such a constellation of free +States, with no public force, but public opinion—moving +by well regulated law—each in its own proper orbit, +around the brighter star in Washington,—thus realizing, +as it were, on earth, almost practically, the beautiful +display of infinite wisdom, that fixed the sun in the +centre, and sent the revolving planets on their errands. +God grant it may end as with them!</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_DART" id="THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_DART"></a>THE CRUISE OF THE DART.</h2> + +<h3>By S. B. Beckett.</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There was an old and quiet man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And by the fire sat he;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now, said he, to you I'll tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Things passing strange that once befell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A ship upon the sea."—<i>Mary Howitt.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>"There she is, Ricardo," said I to my friend, as we +reached the end of the pier, in Havana, while the Dart +lay about half a mile off the shore,—"what think you +of her?"</p> + +<p>"Beautiful!—a more symmetrical craft never passed +the Moro!"</p> + +<p>So thought I, and my heart responded with a thrill +of pride to the sentiment. How saucy she looked, +with her gay streamers abroad upon the winds, and the +red-striped flag of the Union floating jauntily at the +main peak—with her lofty masts tapering away, till, +relieved against the blue abyss, they were apparently +diminished to the size of willow wands, while the slight +ropes that supported the upper spars seemed, from the +pier, like the fairy tracery of the spider. Although surrounded +by ships, xebecs, brigantines, polacres, galleys +and galliots from almost every clime in christendom, +she stood up conspicuously among them all, an +apt representative of the land whence she came! But +let us take a nearer view of the beauty. The hull was +long, low, and at the bows almost as sharp as the missile +after which she was named. From the waist to +the stern she tapered away in the most graceful proportions,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +and she had as lovely a run as ever slid over +the dancing billows. Light and graceful as a sea-bird, +she rocked on the undulating water. But her rig!—herein, +to my thinking, was her chiefest beauty—every +thing pertaining to it was so exact, so even and so +<i>tanto</i>. Besides the sail usually carried by man-of-war +schooners, she had the requisite appertenances for a +royal and flying kite, or sky-sail, which, now that she +was in port, were all rigged up. Not another vessel of +her class in the navy could spread so much canvas to +the influence of old Boreas as the Dart.</p> + +<p>Her armament consisted of one long brass twenty-four +pounder, mounted on a revolving carriage midships, +and six twelve-pound carronades. Add to this +a picked crew of ninety men, with the redoubtable +Jonathan West as our captain, Mr. Dacre Dacres as first, +and your humble servant, Ahasuerus Hackinsack, as +second lieutenant, besides a posse of minor officers +and middies,—and you may form a faint idea of the +Dart.</p> + +<p>Bidding adieu to my friend, I jumped into the pinnace +waiting, and in a few minutes stood on her quarter +deck.</p> + +<p>But it will be necessary for me to explain for what +purpose the Dart was here. She had been dispatched +by government to cruise among the Leeward Islands, +and about Cape St. Antonio, in quest of a daring band +of pirates, who, trusting to their superior prowess and +the fleetness of their vessel, a schooner called the Sea-Sprite, +had long scourged the merchantmen of the Indian +seas with impunity. Cruiser after cruiser had +been sent out to attack them in vain. She had invariably +escaped, until at length, in reality, they were left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +for awhile, the undisputed 'rulers of the waves,' as +they vauntingly styled themselves. It was said of the +Sea-Sprite, that she was as fleet as the winds, and as +mysterious in her movements; and her master spirit, +the fierce Juan Piesta, was as wily and fierce a robber, +as ever prowled upon the western waters. Indeed, +so wonderful and various had been his escapes, that +many of the Spaniards, and the lower orders of seamen +in general, believed him to be leagued with the Powers +of Darkness!</p> + +<p>But the Dart had been fitted up for the present +cruise expressly on account of her matchless speed, +and our captain, generally known in the service by the +significant appellation of Old Satan West, was, in situations +where fighting or peril formed any part of the +story, a full match for his namesake.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>After cruising about the western extremity of Cuba, +for nearly a month, to no purpose, we bore away for +the southern coast of St. Domingo, and at the time my +story opens, were off Jacquemel. The morning was +heralded onward by troops of clouds, of the most +brilliant and burning hues—deep crimson ridges—fire-fringed +volumes of purple, hanging far in the depths of +the mild and beautiful heaven—long, rose-tinted and +golden plumes, stretching up from the horizon to the +zenith,—forming altogether a most gorgeous and magnificent +spectacle, while, to complete the pageant, the +sun, just rising from his ocean lair, shed a flood of +glaring light far over the restless expanse toward us, +and every rope and spar of our vessel, begemmed with +bright dew-drops, flashed and twinkled in his beams, +like the jeweled robes of a princely bride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fore top there! what's that away in the wake o' +the sun?" called out Mr. Dacres.</p> + +<p>"A drifting spar, I believe, Sir—but the sun throws +such a glare on the water I cannot see plainly."</p> + +<p>I looked in the direction pointed out, and saw a +dark object tumbling about on the fiery swell, like an +evil spirit in torment. We altered our course and stood +away toward it. It turned out to be a boat, apparently +empty, but on a nearer inspection we perceived a man +lying under its thwarts, whose pale, lank features and +sunken eye bespoke him as suffering the last pangs of +starvation. My surprise can better be imagined than +described, on discovering in the unfortunate man a +highly loved companion of my boyhood, Frederick +Percy! He was transferred from his miserable quarters +to a snug berth on board of the Dart, and in a few +hours, by the judicious management of our surgeon, +was resuscitated, so as to be able to come on deck.</p> + +<p>His story may be told in a few words. He had been +travelling in England—while there had married a beautiful, +but friendless orphan. Soon after this occurrence +he embarked in one of his father's ships for Philadelphia, +intending to touch at St. Domingo city, and take +in a freight. But, three days before, when within a +few hours' sail of their destined port, they had fallen in +with a piratical schooner, which, after a short struggle, +succeeded in capturing them. While protecting his +wife from the insults of the bucaneers, he received a +blow in the temple, which deprived him of his senses; +and when he awoke to consciousness it was night, wild +and dark, and he was tossing on the lone sea, without +provisions, sail or oars, as we had found him. For three +days he had not tasted food. Poor fellow! his anxiety<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +as to the fate of his wife almost drove him to distraction.</p> + +<p>This circumstance assured us that we were on the +right trail of the marauder whom we sought. We continued +beating up the coast till noon, when the breeze +died away into a stark calm, and we lay rolling on the +long glassy swell, about ten leagues from the St. Domingo +shore. The sun was intensely powerful, glowing +through the hazy atmosphere, directly over our +heads, like a red-hot cannon ball; and the far-stretching +main was as sultry and <i>arid</i> as the sands of an +African desert. To the north, the cloud-topped mountains +of St. Domingo obstructed our view, looming +through the blue haze to an immense height—presenting +to as the aspect of huge, flat, shadowy walls; and +one need have taxed his imagination but lightly, to +fancy them the boundaries dividing us from a brighter +and a better clime. The depths of the ocean were +as translucent as an unobscured summer sky, and far +beneath us we could distinguish the dolphins and king-fish, +roaming leisurely about, or darting hither and thither +as some object attracted their pursuit; while nearer +its surface the blue element was alive with myriads +of minor nondescripts, riggling, flouncing and lazily +moving up and down,—probably attracted by the shade +of our dark hull.</p> + +<p>The men having little else to do, obtained from the +captain permission to fish. Directly they had hauled +in a dozen or more of the most ill-favored, shapeless, +unchristian-looking articles I ever clapped eyes on, +which, when I came from aft, were dancing their +death jigs on the forecastle-deck, much to the diversion +of the captain's black waiter, Essequibo.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Halloo!—this way, blackey!" shouted an old tar +to the merry African, who, by the way, was a kind of +reference table for the whole crew—"Egad! Billy, +look here,—what do you call this comical looking +devil that has helped himself to my hook? Why! his +body is as long as the articles of discipline, and his +mouth almost as long as his body!—your own main-hatch-way +is not a circumstance to it!"</p> + +<p>"Him be one gar fish—ocium gar!—he no good +for eat," answered the black with a grin that drew the +corners of his mouth almost back to his ears, so that, +to appearance, small was the hinge that kept brain and +body together.</p> + +<p>At the sight the querist dropped the fish, exclaiming +with feigned wonder, "By all that's crooked, an even +bet!—ar'n't your mouth made ov injy rubber, Billy!"</p> + +<p>"Good ting to hab de larsh mout, Misser Mongo,—eat +de more—lib de longer," said Billy.</p> + +<p>"Screw your blinkers this way, Jack Simpson, there's +a prize for you," said another, as he dragged a huge +lump-headed, bull-eyed, tail-less mass out of the water, +with fins protruding, like thorns, from every part of his +body!—"Guess he's one of the fighting cocks down +below, seeing his spurs!—any how, he's well armed,—I'll +be keel-hauled, if he don't look like the beauty that +we saw carved out on the Frencher's stern, with the +Neptune bestride it, in Havana, barin' he wants a tail! +Han't he a queer un?—but how in natur do you suppose +he makes out to steer without a rudder?"</p> + +<p>"Steer wid he head turn behin' him!" answered +Seignor Essequibo, bursting into a chuckling laugh—mightily +tickled with the struggles of the ungainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +monster,—"Che, che, che!—him sea-dragum—catch +um plenty on de cos ob Barbado. Take care ob him +horn!"</p> + +<p>"Yo, heave, ho! Shaint Pathrick, an' it's me what's +caught a whale!" drawled out a brawny Patlander, +while he tugged and sweated to heave in his prize.</p> + +<p>"My gorra! you hook one barracouter!" cried +Billy, as his eye caught a glimpse of the big fish curveting +in the water at the end of Paddy's line,—"Bes' +fish in de worl'!—good for make um chowder—good +for fry—for ebery ting,—me help you pull him in, +Massa Coulan," and without further ado, he laid hold +of the line. The beautiful fish was hauled in, and +consigned to the custody of the cook.</p> + +<p>"Stave in my bulwarks, if this 'ere dragon-fish ha'n't +stuck one of his horns into my foot an inch deep!" +roared an old marine,—"Hand me that sarving mallet, +snow ball, I'll see if I can't give him a hint to +behave better!"</p> + +<p>"Hurrah!—here comes an owl-fish, I reckon;" +shouted a merry wight of a tar, from the land of wooden +nutmegs,—"specimen of the salt-water owl! Lord, +look at his teeth—how he grins!—What are you +laughing at, my beauty?"</p> + +<p>"Le diable! une chouette dans la mer?" exclaimed +a little wizen-pated Frenchman, who had seated himself +astraddle of the cathead.—"Vel, Monsieur Vagastafsh, +comment nommez vous dish petit poisson?"</p> + +<p>"Poison! No, Monsheer, I rather guess there han't +the least bit o' poison in natur about that ere <i>young +shark</i>!" replied Wagstaff, "though for that matter +a shark's worse'n poison."</p> + +<p>"I not mean poison—I say poisson—<i>fish</i>."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, poison fish—yes, I know—you'll find plenty of +them on the Bahamy copper banks. I always gets the +cook to put a piece of silver in the boilers, when we +grub on fish in them ere parts."</p> + +<p>"O, mon dieu! le rashcalle hash bitez mon vum +almos' off! Sacré, vous ingrat, to treatez me so like, +when I am feed you wis de bon dîner!"</p> + +<p>My attention was called away from this scene of +hilarity, by the voice of the watch in the fore-top, announcing +a sail in sight.</p> + +<p>A faint indefinable speck could be seen in the quarter +designated, fluttering on the bosom of the blue sea +like a drift of foam. With the aid of the glass we made +it out to be the topsail of a schooner, so distant that her +hull and lower sails were below the brim of the horizon. +Her canvas had probably just been unloosed to the +breeze, which was directly after seen roughening the +face of the broad, smooth expanse as it swept down toward +us.</p> + +<p>"That glass, Mr. Waters—she is standing toward +us, and by the gods of war! the cut of her narrow flying +royal, looks marvellously like that of our friend, +the Sea-Sprite!" said the captain, while the blood +flashed over his bald forehead, like 'heat lightning' over +a summer cloud; "Mr. Hackinsack, see that every +thing is ready for a chase."</p> + +<p>The broad sails were unloosed and sheeted close +home. Directly the wind was with us, and we were +bowling along under a press of canvas.</p> + +<p>"Now, quartermaster, look to your sails as closely, +as you would watch one seeking your life." Another +squint through the glass. "Ha! they have suspected +us, and are standing in toward the land, jam on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +wind;—let them look to it sharply; it must be a fleet +pair of heels that can keep pace with the Dart,—though +to say the least of yonder cruiser, she is no laggard!"</p> + +<p>After pacing the deck some ten minutes, he again +hove short and lifted the glass to his eye.</p> + +<p>"By heavens! the little witch still holds her way +with us!—Have the skysail set, and rig out the top-gallant-studd'n'sail!"</p> + +<p>Every one on board was now eager in the chase. The +orders were obeyed almost as soon as given. Our +proud vessel, under the press of sail, absolutely flew +over the water, haughtily tossing the rampant surges +from her sides, while her bows were buried in a roaring +and swirling sheet of foam, and a broad band of snow +stretched far over the dark blue waste astern, showing +a wake as strait as an arrow. She was careened down +to the breeze, so that her lower studd'n'sail-boom every +moment dashed a cloud of spray from the romping +billows, and her lee rail was at times under water. Her +masts curved and whiffled beneath the immense piles of +canvas, like a stringed bow.</p> + +<p>"She walks the waters bravely," said the captain, +casting a glance of exultation at the distended sails and +bending spars, and then at our arrowy wake.—"But, +by Jupiter, the chase still almost holds her way with us. +We need more sail aft. Bear a hand, my men, and +run up the ringtail."</p> + +<p>"That will answer,—a dolphin would have a sweat +to beat us in this trim!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr Percy, is yonder dasher the craft that +pillaged your ship, and sent you cruising about the +ocean in that bit of a cockle-shell, think you?"</p> + +<p>"That is the pirate schooner—I cannot mistake her,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +replied Percy, who stood with his flashing eyes rivetted +on the vessel, and his fingers impatiently working about +the hilt of his cutlass, while his brow was darkened +with an intense desire of revenge.</p> + +<p>Three hours passed, and we had gained within a +league of the noble looking craft. She was heeled +down to the breeze, so that owing to the 'bagging' of +her lower sails, her hull was almost hidden from sight. +Like a snowy cloud, she darted along the revelling waters, +the sunbeams basking on her wide-spread wings, +and the sprightly billows flashing and surging around +her bows. Never saw I an object more beautiful.</p> + +<p>The land was now fully in sight—a stern and rock-bound +coast, against which the breakers dashed with +maddening violence, and for half a mile from the shore, +the water was one conflicting waste of snowy surf and +billow. No signs of inhabitants, on either hand, as far +as the eye could view, were discernible. The long +range of stern, solitary mountains arose from the waves, +and towered away till lost in the clouds. Their sides, +save where some splintered cliff lifted its gray peaks in +the day, were clothed with thick forests, among which +the tufted palm and wild cinnamon stood up conspicuously, +like sentinels looking afar over the wide waste +of blue. Here and there a torrent could be traced, +leaping from crag to cliff, seeming, as it blazed in the +fierce sun-light, to run liquid fire; and gorgeous masses +of wild creepers and tangled undergrowth hung down +over the embattled heights, swaying and flaunting in +the gale, like the banners and streamers of an encamped +army.</p> + +<p>Not the slightest chance for harbor or anchorage +could be discovered along the whole iron-bound coast,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +yet the gallant little Sea-sprite held steadily on her +course, steering broad for the base of the mountains.</p> + +<p>"Why, in the name of madness, is the fellow driving +in among the breakers?" muttered our captain;—"Thinks +he to escape by running into danger? By +Mars, and if I mistake not, he shall have peril to his +heart's content, ere nightfall!"</p> + +<p>But fate willed that we should be disappointed; for +just as every thing had been arranged to treat the bucaneer +with a fist full of grape and canister, one of those +sudden tempests, so common to the West Indies in the +autumn months, was upon us. A vast, black, conglomerated +volume of vapor swung against the mountain +summits, and curled heavily down over the cliffs. Brilliant +scintillations were darting from its shadowy borders, +and the zigzag lightnings were playing about it, and +licking its ragged folds like the tongues of an evil +spirit! Suddenly it burst asunder, and a burning +gleam—a wide conflagration, as if the very earth had +exploded—flashed over the hills, accompanied with a +peal of thunder that made the broad ocean tremble, +and our deck quiver under us, like a harpooned grampus +in his death gasp! The electric fluid upheaved +and hurled to fragments an immense peak near the +summit of the mountains, and huge masses of rock, +with thunderous din, and amid clouds of dust, smoke +and fire, came bounding and racing down from crag to +crag, uprooting the tall cedars, and dashing to splinters +the firm iron-wood trees, as though they had been but +reeds—sweeping a wide path of ruin through the thick +forests, and shivering to atoms and dust the loose rocks +that obstructed their career, till, with a whirring bound, +they plunged from a beetling cliff into the sea, causing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +the tortured water to send up a cloud of mist and spray. +All on board were struck aghast at the blinding brilliancy +of the flash and its terrible effects.</p> + +<p>We were aroused to a sense of our situation, by the +clear, sonorous voice of Satan West, whom nothing +pertaining to earth could daunt, calling all hands to +take in sail.</p> + +<p>Instantly the trade-wind ceased, and a fearful, death-like +silence ensued. This was of short duration; hardly +were our sails stowed close, when we saw the trees on +shore drawn upwards, twisted off and rent to pieces, +while a dense mass of leaves and broken branches +whirled over the land; and a wild, deep, wailing sound, +as of rushing wings, filled the air, foretelling the onset +of the whirlwind.</p> + +<p>"The hurricane is upon us!—helm hard aweather!" +thundered the captain.</p> + +<p>But the Dart was already lying on her beam-ends, +heaving, groaning and quivering throughout every +timber, in the fierce embrace of the tremendous blast! +After its first overpowering shock, however, the gallant +craft slowly recovered, and by dint of the strenuous +exertions of our men, she was got before the gale. +Away she sprang, like a frighted thing, over the tormented +and whitening surges, completely shrouded in +foam and spray. A dense cloud, murky as midnight, +spread over the face of the heavens, where a moment +before, naught met the gazer's eye, save the fleecy +mackerel-clouds, drifting afar through its cerulean halls. +The blue lightnings gleamed, the thunder boomed and +rattled, the black billows shook their flashing manes, the +whole firmament was in an uproar; and amid the wild +rout, our little Dart, as a dry leaf in the autumn winds,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +was borne about, a very plaything in the eddying whirls +of the frantic elements.</p> + +<p>The tempest was as short lived as it was sudden, +and, as the schooner had sustained no material injury, +directly after it had abated she was under sail again. +When the rain cleared up in shore, every eye sought +eagerly for the pirate craft.</p> + +<p>She had vanished!</p> + +<p>Nothing met our view but the tossing and tumbling +surges, and the breaker-beaten coast. If ever old Satan +West was taken aback, it was then. His brow +darkened, and a shadow of unutterable disappointment +passed over his countenance.</p> + +<p>"Gone!—By all that is mysterious and wonderful—gone!" +he muttered to himself,—"escaped from my +very grasp! Can there be truth in the wild tales told +of her? No, no!—idiot to harbor the thought for a +moment—she has foundered!"</p> + +<p>But this was hardly probable, as not the slightest +vestige of her remained about the spot.</p> + +<p>Poor Percy, too, was the picture of despair. His +hat had been blown away by the hurricane; and his +hair tossed rudely in the wind, as he stood in the main-chains, +gazing with the wildness of a maniac over the +uproarous waters.</p> + +<p>"The lovers of the marvelous would here find +enough to fatten upon, I ween," said Dacres, composedly +helping himself to a quid of tobacco. "What think you +is to come next? for I hardly think the play ends with +actors and all being spirited away in a thunder gust!"</p> + +<p>I was interrupted in my reply by the energetic exclamations +of the captain, who had been gazing seaward, +over the quarter-rail.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, by all the imps in purgatory, it is that devil-leagued +pirate," burst from his lips; and at the same +moment the cry of <i>Sail O!</i> was heard from the forward +watch.</p> + +<p>A long-sparred vessel could be seen, relieved against +the black bank of clouds, that were crowding down the +horizon. Surprise was imaged on every countenance, +and when the order was passed to crowd on all sail in +pursuit, a murmur of disapprobation +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'run'">ran</ins> through the +whole crew. However, such was their respect for the +regulations of the service, and so great their dread of +old Satan West, that no one dared demur openly. +Again the Dart was bounding over the waves in pursuit +of the stranger, which had confirmed our suspicions as +to her character, by hoisting all sail and endeavoring to +escape us.</p> + +<p>But here likewise we were disappointed. She proved +to be a Baltimore clipper, and had endeavored to +run away from us, taking us for the same craft we had +supposed her to be.</p> + +<p>After parting from the Baltimorean, we ran in; and +as the evening fell, anchored under the land, sheltered +from the waves by a little rocky promontory. It was my +turn to take the evening watch. Our wearied crew were +soon lost in sleep, and all was hushed into repose, if I +except the shrill, rasping voices of the green lizards, +the buzzing and humming of the numerous insects on +shore, and the occasional, long-drawn creak, creak of +the cable, as the schooner swung at her anchor. The +evening was mild and beautiful. The moon, attended +by one bright, beautiful planet, was on her wonted +round through the heavens, and the far expanse of +ocean, reflecting her effulgence, seemed to roll in billows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +of molten silver beneath the gentle night-wind, +which swept from the land, fragrant with the breath of +wild-flowers and spicy shrubs.</p> + +<p>Little Ponto, the royal reefer, lay on a gun carriage +near me. This boy, whom, when on a former cruise, +I had rescued from a Turkish Trader, was a favorite +with all on board. Although, in person, effeminate and +beautiful as a girl, and possessing the strong affections +of the weaker sex, he still was not wanting in that high +courage and energy which constitutes the pride of +manhood. He was an orphan, and with the exception +of a sister and aunt, who were living together in England, +there was not, in the wide world, one being with +whom he could claim relationship. When very young, +he had been entrusted to the charge of the friendly +captain of a merchant ship, bound to Smyrna, for the +purpose of improving his health. But the vessel never +reached her destined port. She was captured by an +Algerine rover, and the boy made prisoner. It was +from the worst of slavery that I had rescued him, and +ever after the occurrence his gratitude toward me knew +no bounds. He appeared to be contented and happy +in his present situation, save when his thoughts reverted +to his lone sister. Then the tears would spring into +his eyes, and he would talk to me of her beauty and +goodness, till I was almost in love with the pure being +which his glowing descriptions had conjured to my +mind. I loved that boy as a brother, and he returned +my affection with a fervor, equalling that of a trusting +woman.</p> + +<p>As I leaned against the companion-way, absorbed in +pleasant dreams of my far home, a touch on the shoulder +aroused me. I turned and Percy stood by my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +side. The beauty of the evening had soothed his wild +and agitated feelings. He spoke of his wife with touching +regret, as if certain that she was lost to him forever. +For nearly an hour he stood gazing on the moon's +bright attendant, as if he fancied it her home.</p> + +<p>At length he disappeared below, and again Ponto, +who seemed to be wrapped in a deep revery, was my +only companion. We had remained several minutes +in silence, when suddenly, as if it had dropped from +the clouds, a female form appeared far above us, on a +precipitous bluff that leaned out over the deep, on which +the solitary moonlight slept in unobstructed brightness. +The form advanced so near the brink of the fearful +crag, that we could even distinguish the color of her +drapery as it fluttered in the wind. By the motion of +her arms she seemed beckoning us on shore; then, as +if despairing to attract our attention, she looked fearfully +about, and the next moment a strain of exquisite +melody came floating down to us, like a voice from +heaven. We remained breathless, and could almost +distinguish the words.</p> + +<p>The strain terminated in a startling cry, and with a +frantic gesture the figure tore a crimson scarf from her +neck, and shook it wildly on the winds; at the same +moment the dark form of a man leaped out on the +cliff. There was a short struggle, with reiterated +shrieks of 'help! help! help!' in a voice of agony, +and all disappeared in the deep shadow of another rock.</p> + +<p>Ponto, who at the first burst of the song, had started +up and grasped my arm with a degree of wild energy +I had never witnessed in him before, now suddenly +released his hold, and with a single bound plunged into +the sea. So lost was I in amazement at the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +scene, that for a moment I remained undecided what +course to pursue; then, not wishing to alarm the ship, +I ordered Waters, the midshipman of the watch, to +jump into the boat with a few of the men, and pull +after him.</p> + +<p>The head of my little favorite soon became visible +in the moonlight. With a vigorous arm he struck out +for the shore, and was immediately hid in the deep +shadow of its mural cliffs. A moment, and I again +saw him on the beetling rocks, whence the female had +just disappeared; then he, too, was lost in the darkness.</p> + +<p>Waters, after being absent in the boat about half an +hour, returned without having discovered the least sign +of the fugitive. Hour after hour I awaited the return +of my adventurous boy, filled with painful anxiety.</p> + +<p>As the night deepened, the clouds, which during the +day had slumbered on the mountain battlements, as if +held in awe by the majesty of the burning sun, rolled +slowly down the steeps and gradually spread out on the +sea, enveloping us in their humid embrace. A denser +mist I never saw; my thin clothing was soon wet +through and clinging to me like steel to a magnet, and +we were completely lost in darkness. As I paced the +deck, not willing to go below while my young favorite +was in peril, Waters tapped me on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Did you notice any thing then, Mr. Hackinsack? +I thought I heard a splash in the water, like the dip of +an oar."</p> + +<p>"Some fish, I suppose, Waters."</p> + +<p>"I think not, Sir; besides, just now I saw a dark +object gliding slowly across our bow in the mist, which +I then took for a drifting log."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>I walked round the deck and peered into the fog on +every side, but could discover nothing. I listened; all +was silent save the tweet, tweet, of the lizards and the +roar of the surf, as it beat on the rocks astern. Presently +old Benjamin Ramrod, the gunner, came aft.</p> + +<p>"I wish this infernal fog would clear up!" said he, +"for the last half hour, I have heard strange noises +about us! I am much mistaken, or we are surrounded +by enemies of some sort or other. When that shining +apparition arose from the bluff there, and began to +beckon to us, I said to myself, some accident is going +to happen before many hours, and you see if my pro'nostics +ar'n't true. Minded you how, by her sweet +voice, she lured that poor boy, Ponto, overboard?—and +even I, who may say I've had some experience in such +matters, began to feel a queerish sensation, as I harkened +to her witchery. Many a poor sailor has lost his +life by listening to their lonesome-like songs. I remember +once when I was on the coast of Africa, in a +gold-dust and ivory trader, we heard the water-wraiths +and mermaids singing to each other all night long, +and the very next day our ship was driven upon the +rocks in a white squall, and wrecked, and only myself +and a Congo nigger escaped alive, out of a crew of +twenty-three!—It strikes me, too," he continued, after +listening a moment, "that we shall have a storm before +morning; the fog seems to be brushing by us, and the +noise of the breakers on shore grows terribly loud. I +would give all the prize-money I ever gained to be out +of the place, with good sea-room, a flowing sheet, and +our bows turned toward home—no good ever came of +fighting these pirate imps.—Heaven help us! what is +that?" he exclaimed with a start, as a tall, white form<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +shot up, a few rods under our stern, seen but dimly +through the fog.</p> + +<p>The fact flashed upon me at once; our cable had +been cut; it was the spray of the breakers rebounding +from the shore. The best bower anchor was instantly +let go, which brought us up; not however till we had +drifted within a cable's length of the breakers, which +ramped and roared all the night with maddening violence, +as if eager to engulf us. The alarm was given, +and in a few minutes every thing was prepared for +any emergency that might occur.</p> + +<p>I ordered Ramrod to clap a charge of grape into one +of the bow-chasers and let drive at the first object that +came in sight. As I gave the order the dip of oars +could be plainly distinguished, receding from our bows. +Benjamin did not wait to see the marauders, but fired +in the direction of the sound. The fog was swept +away before the mouth of the gun, to some distance, +and I caught a glimpse of a boat filled with men. A +deep groan told that the gun had been rightly directed.</p> + +<p>There was now no doubt that we were surrounded +by enemies. It was only by the foreboding watchfulness +of the gunner that we were prevented from going +ashore, where, doubtless, the pirates expected to have +obtained an easy victory over us.</p> + +<p>About ten minutes after this incident I was startled +by the faint voice of Ponto, hailing me from under the +schooner's side. I joyfully lowered the man-ropes, and +immediately had the adventurous boy beside me, on the +quarter-deck. He grasped my hand, and I felt him +tremble all over with eagerness.</p> + +<p>"You heard that song; the voice was that of my +own sister! That shriek, too, was hers; do you wonder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +that I leaped overboard? I scarcely know how I +reached the rock from which she was dragged. I +climbed up and up, in the direction I supposed they +must have taken, until I gained the very summit of one +of the hills. I looked down, and as it were floating in +the haze, many feet below me, saw the face of a rock +reddened by the blaze of a fire opposite. I clambered +from cliff to cliff, clinging to the branches of the trees, +and letting myself down by the mountain creepers that +hung like thick drapery over the descent, till all at +once I dropped over the very mouth of a deep cavern. +A massy vine fell in heavy festoons down over the +rugged pillars that formed its portal. Securing a foothold +among its tendrils, concealed by its luxuriant foliage, +I bent over and looked in. A large party of +fierce-looking men, with pistols in their belts and cutlasses +lying by them, were seated round a rude table, +feasting and making merry over their wine beakers. I +paid little attention to them, for against the rough wall +was an old woman, and leaning upon her—as I live, it +is true—was my own, my beautiful sister, she whom I +had left in England! I thought my heart would have +choked me, as I looked upon her pale, sorrowful face, +and heard her low sobs. In my tremor the vine shook; +some loose stones were started, and went clattering +down into the very mouth of the cavern. Two of the +pirates sprang up, and seizing a flaming brand, rushed +out. The red blaze flashed over her face as they +passed, and I heard them threaten her with a terrible +fate, if they were discovered through her means. At +the first start of the rocks I drew back into the vines, +where I remained breathless and still, while they scanned +the recesses of the crag. 'We were mistaken,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +Jacopo,' at length said one of them, 'it was probably a +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: less-used spelling for 'iguana'">guana</ins>, +drawn hither by the fire.' Satisfied that no one +was near, they returned to their comrades, who ridiculed +them for their temerity.</p> + +<p>"Again I listened, and heard them plan to cut the +cable of the Dart, and run her into the breakers. If +they failed in this attempt, they were to haul the Sea-Sprite +out of her hiding place and leave the coast, +trusting, with the aid of the fresh land-breeze, to get +beyond pursuit before day-break.—The mist had come +on, and knowing it impossible to reach the Dart over +the rough precipices in time to give you warning, I remained +in my concealment, undecided what course to +pursue, when I saw a party of the pirates leave the +cavern to go to their boats. Perceiving beneath me, +on the bough of a wild tamarind, sundry articles of +clothing, similar to those worn by the bucaneers, a bold +thought occurred to me. When they had gone beyond +the light from the cave, I cautiously lowered myself +down, and drawing on a jacket and one of the caps, +jumped with them into the boat, no one in the darkness +suspecting me.</p> + +<p>"To appearance we were in the very heart of the +mountains. I am certain that rocks and foliage were +piled up all around us.—After a short row we passed +through what seemed to be a deep chasm, between +two crags, which must have been very high, as the +darkness between them was almost palpable, and in a +few moments we were riding over the long swell of the +open sea. We groped about in the mist for some time, +till the position of the Dart was ascertained by the +chafing noise of one of her booms, when, gliding softly +up, with their sharp knives they cut her cable, and she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +began to drift astern. The strictest silence was enjoined +upon us all, so that had I moved or made the +least noise, as I had intended, my life had been the +forfeit. However, I had just made up my mind to run +all hazards, when the flame of the gun gleamed through +the fog. One of the pirates fell dead in the bottom of +the boat, and in the hurried stir which this produced, I +contrived to slip into the water.</p> + +<p>"Now let me conjure you to take measures for the +rescue of my poor sister. How she came into their +power is a mystery. But my heart will break if she is +not soon freed from these lawless men."</p> + +<p>I informed the captain of Ponto's discovery, but he +saw at once that it would be madness to attempt any +thing in our present situation, with sunken rocks around +us, the breakers astern, and a thick mist wrapping all +in obscurity.</p> + +<p>At last, after a night of the most wearisome watching, +the day dawned, and the mists returned to their +mountain fastnesses. Burning for a brush with the +desperadoes, we towed the Dart out of her critical +situation and got her under sail. The launch and cutter +were ordered out, but here we were at fault. The +morning sunlight slept calmly on the forest clad ridges +and gray cliffs, and every irregularity and indentation +of the shore were strongly shadowed forth; but not the +least sign of harbor or anchorage could be seen, except +under the rocky promontory we had just left, and every +thing looked as forsaken and solitary as a creation's +birth. However, not doubting that we should be able +to sift the mystery, the boats put off, with full and well-armed +crews, and on nearing the shore discovered a +narrow inlet, that wound in between the two lofty cliffs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +the one projecting out with a magnificent curve, so as +entirely to conceal the channel until we approached +within a few rods of the shore.</p> + +<p>"We've got on the right scent of the old fox now, +I think," said Waters.</p> + +<p>"Speak low, gentlemen; if discovered we may meet +with a reception here not altogether so agreeable—I +don't like the appearance of those grave looking fellows, +yonder," said Dacres, pointing to four cannon +mounted on a low parapet, with their muzzles bearing +directly toward us.</p> + +<p>"Why, the place is as silent as a grave-yard," muttered +the old cockswain of the cutter.</p> + +<p>We advanced softly up the inlet, and found it to +branch out into a broad basin. Here was explained +the mystery of the Sea-Sprite's sudden disappearance; +this was the <i>Pirate's Retreat</i>, and from their escaping +hither and into similar resorts known only to themselves, +arose the many wild stories that were abroad +respecting their supernatural prowess. Fifty well armed +men might have defended the place against five +hundred assailants, as there was only one point, the +inlet, susceptible of an attack. The entrance was not +more than thirty feet in width—only sufficient for one +vessel to enter at a time; but the water was bold and +deep, with a sandy bottom. An enormous cavern +yawned at the farther extremity of the basin, which +Ponto immediately recognized as that where the pirates +held their revel the previous night. But now the place +was evidently deserted; the Sea-Sprite had made her +escape.</p> + +<p>The crew of the barge were despatched on shore to +explore the premises, while we, as a <i>corps-de-reserve</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +lay on our oars, with fire-arms loaded, ready for any +emergency. While waiting I had an opportunity of +surveying the magnificent scene around me. We lay +in the deep shadow of a beetling precipice of such immense +altitude, that the snow-white morning clouds, as +they floated onward, like messengers from heaven, +swept its summit. Thousands of gray sea-birds were +sailing around their eyries, along its dark craggy sides +far above us, while its hollow recesses reverberated +their shrill cries, till to our ears they sounded like one +continued scream. The cliffs all around were tumbled +about in the most chaotic confusion, as if they had been +upheaved by some tremendous throe of nature. Stinted +forest trees and brush wood, with here and there a +wild locust or banana, had gained a footing in the +seams and fissures of the crags, and thick masses of +the lusty mountain creepers, intertwined with wild +flowering jessamin and grenadilla, fell in gorgeous +festoons down the embattled heights, draping their +rough projections in robes of the most magnificent +woof. Nearly opposite was a yawning ravine, filled +with myriads of huge, shattered trees, ragged stumps, +loose stones and gravel, which probably had been +swept from the mountains, by the foaming torrents that +rush down to the sea in the rainy months. The desolation +of this scene was in a measure relieved by the +quick springing vegetation that had found sustenance +among the decayed trunks, and in the black earth that +still adhered to the matted roots; so that green foliage, +and wild flowers of the most brilliant dies in sumptuous +profusion, were waving and nodding over prostrate +trees, which perchance a year before, had stood up in +the pride of primeval lustihood, on the mountain ridges.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +Further back, beyond this gorge, the sloping steeps +were clothed with dark waving forests, stretching up +their sides, till they faded into the blue haze resting on +the mountain summits. The freshness of early day +had not yet been dissipated. Among the undergrowth +and brakes, on the tips of the tall, sweeping guinea +grass, and in the cups of the wild flowers, the pure +dews hung in glittering globules, sparkling with brilliant +prismatic tints, as they flashed back the glances +of the rising sun. Calmness and repose reigned over +the unequalled sublimities of the place; and although +the billows were madly beating and roaring against the +outer base of the crescent-like promontory, within, the +water was silent and unruffled by a breath, reflecting +in its depths the wild and gorgeous array of rock and +verdure around, almost as unwavering as reality itself; +and had it not been for the tiny wavelets that rippled +up a small sandy beach, adorning the water's edge +with a narrow frill of foam, its likeness to a broad sheet +of glass had been perfect.</p> + +<p>At length, after the premises had been thoroughly +reconnoitered, the crew of the cutter were permitted to +go on shore. They were soon revelling amidst the +costly merchandize and the luxuries, with which the +cavern was gorged.</p> + +<p>"Holloa, Price!" said Waters to a fellow mid, as he +came out of the cave, dragging an old hag of a woman +after him, apparently much against her will; "I've +found the presiding goddess of the place. Isn't she a +Venus?"</p> + +<p>"Wenus indeed!" echoed the old beldame, "take +that, young madcap, and larn better how to treat a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +lady!" administering a thwack on his ear that sent +him staggering a rod from her.</p> + +<p>Waters gathered himself together, and a general +laugh took place at his expense.</p> + +<p>"A fair representative of the amorous goddess—quite +liberal with her love pats!" said Price in a tantalizing +tone.</p> + +<p>"Confound the old hag," muttered the discomfited +mid, "if it were not a waste of good powder and ball, +I'd make a riddle of her in the twinkling of a grog-can!"</p> + +<p>This female and one man, found wounded and languishing +on his pallet, were the only denizens of the +place.</p> + +<p>"Croesus! what hav'nt we here?" exclaimed Price, +glancing over the medley of rich merchandize heaped +together in one of the apartments of the huge cavern; +"boxes of silks and satins, sashes, ribbons, lace, tortoise +shell!—whew!—I say, Waters, what heathen are +these pirates to let such a profusion of pretty gewgaws +lay here, which ought to be setting off the fairy forms +of the Spanish lasses! Now there's as handsome a piece +of trumpery as one often sees," tying a delicate crimson +silk <i>manta</i> about him—"as I'm a sinner I'll carry +that home to Nell Gray!—Ha! Burgundy wine?</p> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Inspiring—divine<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is the gush of bright wine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the life, 'tis the breath of the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Tis the—the—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Odds! but I must quicken my memory, and clear +my pipes with a can of the critter to get into the spirit +of song!"</p> + +<p>He drew a beaker from the cask and took a deep +draught.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Capital, by Bacchus!" he exclaimed, smacking his +lips,—"Try it, Waters, these fellows fare like princes."</p> + +<p>"Bear a hand, Mr. Price, and don't set the men a +bad example," thundered the first lieutenant, who had +stationed himself as a sentinel outside.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the men had not been idle. The +sight of such a profusion of riches, all at their own +mercy, had turned their brains, and the confusion that +prevailed among the silks and finery would have rivalled +that of a London milliner's shop on a gala day.</p> + +<p>But the voice of the lieutenant, as if by magic, restored +them to order, and Waters ordered the most +costly of the goods to be carried to the boats.</p> + +<p>"An 'ai'nt it Roary McGran 'as found a nest o 'the +shiners," exclaimed a son of Erin, as he emerged, covered +with dirt, from a small, deep cavity at the inmost +extremity of the cavern, dragging after him a large +bag of doubloons,—"'Ai'nt them the beauties, Misther +Waters?—its what they're as plenty there as paraites +in a parson's cellar."</p> + +<p>Half a dozen similar bags were brought to light; +besides which more than a score of boxes containing +rix dollars, and a great many parcels of coin of different +nations, silver and gold, tied up in old pieces of canvas, +were discovered.</p> + +<p>"Some sport in sacking such a fortress as this," +observed Price,—"no blood and plenty of booty! By +Jove, though, what a confounded pity it is we hav'nt a +ship of some size, that we might load her with these +silken goods? Our share of the prize money would +be a fortune to us."</p> + +<p>While the men were ransacking the cavern, I had +climbed by a narrow foot-path to the top of a lofty bluff.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +A small telescope, found in a hollow that had been +worked in the rock, assured me that this served as a +look-out station. It commanded a wide view of the +surrounding ocean, now tenanted only by the sun-beam +and solitude, if I except the presence of the Dart, +which sat <i>lilting</i> on the glittering swell, with her white +wings outspread, like a huge sea-bird stretching his +pinions for flight.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The boats shoved off, loaded gunwale deep with gold +and silver, ivory, tortoise-shell and the most choice of +the merchandise found in the cavern, and in fifteen +minutes all was safely secured on board the schooner. +After a short consultation it was agreed to run the +Dart into the Pirates' Retreat, and there await the return +of the Sea-Sprite, deeming that the bucaneers +would scarcely be long absent from the chief depository +of their treasures. She was soon safely anchored +in the basin. A lookout was stationed at the mouth of +the inlet, while Ponto and Percy undertook, with the +consent of the captain, the task of watching from the +cliff. Waters was then sent with a party of the men +to explore the cavern more thoroughly, and before noon +there was not a chink nor cranny of the place which +had not been thrice overhauled. Immense treasures, +in gold, silver and jewelry, were brought to light.</p> + +<p>Toward the latter part of the afternoon, Percy gave +the signal agreed upon for an approaching vessel, and +directly after made his appearance on the beach, informing +us that they had examined her carefully, and +that there could be no mistaking her—it was the Sea-Sprite.</p> + +<p>"Strange!" said the captain; "I knew that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +were brave—fearless to desperation, but I did not expect +to see them show such fool-hardiness. However, +they shall meet with a welcome reception. Mr. Dacres, +see that all the men are on board, and have things put +to rights for a brush. If I mistake not, there will be +desperate work ere the rascal receives his deserts."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes every thing was ready; the boats +were got out forward, and the Dart was towed to the +mouth of the inlet, remaining concealed.</p> + +<p>The Sea-Sprite, which could be seen from the outer +edge of the rocks, stood gallantly in, driving a drift of +snow before her, till within about a mile of the shore; +when, as if she had discovered some signs of our presence, +she wore round, hoisted her studd'n'sails, and +stood away in a south-westerly direction.</p> + +<p>"Pull away cheerily," said the captain to the men in +the boats, who had lain on their oars in readiness.</p> + +<p>Slowly the Dart emerged from her hiding place—the +sails were squared round so as to present their broad +surfaces to the wind, and away she darted in swift +pursuit, like an eagle in quest of his prey. A stern +chase is proverbially a long one; so it proved in this +instance. The wind was light, and although we hung +out every rag of sail, the sun was sinking beyond the +sea when we approached within gun-shot of the rover. +Not a soul could be seen on her decks,—she was worked +as if by magic.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ramrod," said the captain, "clap a round shot +into the long-tom, and let us see if we cannot make +them show some signs of life."</p> + +<p>Benjamin loaded the gun, and having got it poised +to his fancy, applied the match. Away whizzed the +iron messenger. The chips flew from the stern of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +rover, and a swarm of grizzly heads, belonging to +<i>bona fide</i> bodies, popped up above the bulwarks, and +then settled down again, like so many wild sea-fowl +disturbed in their nests.</p> + +<p>"Well done, Benjamin!—I see you have not lost +any of your skill for lack of practice."</p> + +<p>The pirate, at length finding it impossible to escape +us, shortened sail.</p> + +<p>"Now my men," said the captain, "to your duty!—let +every gun be double-shotted—a round shot and +grape!"</p> + +<p>By a well-timed manoeuvre, we ranged up under +her stern. Our men stood with their arms extended, +ready to apply their lighted matches.</p> + +<p>"Fire!" thundered Satan West.</p> + +<p>A storm of flame burst from our side, and the Dart +reeled half out of water under the recoil of the overloaded +guns. The iron shower raked the pirate fore +and aft, hurling those deadly missiles, the splinters, in +every direction, and doing terrible execution on their +decks. Two more such broad-sides would have sent +her to the bottom.</p> + +<p>"Helm aweather—jam hard!" roared the captain.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir!"—and we wore round so as to present +our other broad-side to the enemy.</p> + +<p>While this manoeuvre was going on, the bows of +the Sea-Sprite had fallen off in the wind, so as to bring +us side by side, within half pistol shot. She returned +the fire with a vengeance, and several of our brave +tars fell wounded or slain to the deck.</p> + +<p>"Ready! blaze away!"—but the sound of our captain's +voice was lost in the thunder of the heavy ordnance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>The battle now commenced in real earnest. The +cannon bellowed, small arms rattled, the combatants +yelled, the dying groaned, the iron thunder-bolt crashed, +riving the vessel's oaken timbers, and a dense sulphur-cloud +overspread the scene of furious commotion, +so that we fought with an invisible enemy. We could +see nothing save the streaming lightning of the cannon, +or the fiend-like figures that worked our aftermost +guns, begrimmed with powder and blood, stripped +nearly naked, and sweltering in their eager toil. As +the smoke occasionally lifted, however, the battered +bulwarks of the enemy, and the glimmering streaks +along her black waist, showed that our fire had been +rightly directed; and the irregularity with which it was +returned, told the confusion that prevailed on her decks. +Several times we attempted to run her aboard, but they +discovered our intentions in time to avoid us.</p> + +<p>At length a discharge from the well-directed gun of +old Benjamin, took effect in her fore-top. The topmast +came thundering down with all its rigging, over +the foresail. Having thus lost the benefit of her head +sail, she rounded to, and her jib-boom came in contact +with our fore rigging.</p> + +<p>"Now is our time!—into her, boarders!" roared +Dacres, leaping upon the pirate's forecastle deck.</p> + +<p>But the order was useless—they were already hard +on his track. A close and desperate struggle now took +place. Pistols cracked, sabres gleamed, and deadly +blows were dealt on either side, till a rampart of the +slain and wounded was raised high between the furious +combatants. Gloomy and dark as an arch-fiend, the +pirate leader raged among his men, urging them on +with threats and curses, in a voice of thunder, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +sweeping down all opposition before his dripping blade. +But Dacres, backed by his well-trained boarders, received +them on the points of their pikes, with a coolness +and bravery that made them recoil upon each +other, like surges from a rock-ribbed coast. Thus the +fight continued with various success, till the attention +of the bucaneers was arrested by an unearthly shout +in the rear, and the tall figure of Percy was seen, laying +about him with whirlwind impetuosity, his long, +untrimmed hair flying wildly in the commotion of the +atmosphere, his features working with the madness +that controlled him, and his dilated eyes flashing with +a fierce, unnatural fire upon his opponents. All quailed +before him. Wherever his merciless arm fell there +was an instant vacancy. Although a score of cutlasses +were glancing, meteor-like, around his person, as if +by a spell, he remained uninjured. At length his eye +detected the pirate leader. Dashing aside all before +him, with one bound he was at his side. The fierce +chief started in amazement at the sight of him whom +he supposed many a league from the spot, if not dead, +but quickly recovered his stern and gloomy bearing.</p> + +<p>"Monster! where is she?" shouted Percy.</p> + +<p>"Ask the sharks!" replied the captain, lunging at +him with his sabre.</p> + +<p>These were his last words. Percy, quick as thought, +drew a pistol from his belt and fired into his face! He +fell heavily to the deck, and the combatants closed +around him, as tempest-waves close over a foundering +ship!</p> + +<p>The pirates, now that their leader was slain, fought +with less spirit, and the victory was soon decided in our +favor. Sooth to say, it was dearly earned; and many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +who sought the battle with a quickened pulse, and +eager for the strife, were that evening consigned to the +waves. Of all the pirate's crew, consisting of nearly a +hundred men, but thirteen remained unharmed. Heavens!—what +a ghastly spectacle her decks presented! +Fifty stalwart forms lay there, stiffened in death, or +writhing in the agony of their deep wounds, severed +and mangled in every way imaginable; and so slippery +was the main deck that we could hardly cross it, while +the sea all around was died with the red waters of life, +that gushed in a continuous stream from her scuppers.</p> + +<p>On the forecastle deck, where the last desperate +struggle had taken place, I recognized many of our +own crew among the lifeless heaps. Poor old Ramrod, +the gunner, lay there, with the black blood trickling +over his swarthy brow, from a bullet hole in his +temple. He had died while the might of battle was +yet upon him—and the fierce scowl which he darted +at his foes, still remained on his rigid features. +His hand, even in the agonies of death, had not relinquished +its firm grasp on his cutlass, and the gigantic +form of a swart pirate, with his skull cloven down, +close at hand, showed that it had been swayed to some +purpose. Poor Benjamin! I could have wept over +him. He had been in the service from his earliest +days, and the scars of many a sanguinary fight were +visible upon his muscular arms, and on his bronzed +and powerful chest. My brave boy, Ponto, was there +also, hanging pale and wounded over the britch of the +bow gun. He had followed me when we boarded, +like a young tiger robbed of his mate. Although faint +and helpless with the loss of blood, which belched at +every heave of his bosom, from a deep sabre wound in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +his shoulder, and which had completely saturated his +checked shirt and his duck pantaloons, yet his firmness +was unshaken. I ordered one of our men to take +charge of him, until he could be looked to by the surgeon. +"Not yet," faintly exclaimed the generous +child, pointing to Mengs, the boatswain, who lay wounded +over a coil of the cable, with three or four grim +looking bucaneers stretched dead across his chest, the +blood from their wounds streaming into his face and +neck,—"look to him first, he may be suffocated."</p> + +<p>"No, no, youngster," murmured the hardy Briton, +"I'd do very well till my turn comes, if I had this +ugly looking craft cast off from my gun-deck, and a can +of water stowed away in my cable tier!"</p> + +<p>After the prisoners were secured, I sought the cabin, +where I had ordered Ponto to be carried. It was a +richly garnished room, with berth hangings of crimson +damask and amber colored silk, a gorgeous carpet +from the looms of Brussels, and furniture in keeping. +Opposite the companion-way hung a superb picture of +the virgin mother and her infant, and over it a golden +crucifix, while beneath, on a rose wood table, lay a +guitar, implements for sketching, and various articles +for female employ and amusement. Indeed, one +might have supposed himself entering the boudoir of +a delicate Spanish belle, rather than the domicil of a +lawless rover. This I remember but from the glance +of a moment. My attention was drawn to the occupants +of the place. There lay my wounded boy, by +the side of a silken sofa-couch, his face buried in the +garments of a female stretched lifeless upon it, and +over them bent the tall form of Percy, gazing upon the +group with a fixed, vacant stare, which told that suffering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +could wring his soul no longer—desolation and +madness had come upon him. His attitude, the expression +of his features, and the low, convulsive sobs +and broken murmurs of the boy, at once explained the +scene. The one had found a wife, the other a sister, +in that inanimate form. I advanced nearer, in hopes +that life might not be altogether extinct. The sight +was appalling, but beautiful. The pale, dead face, upon +which the mellow radiance of sunset streamed +through the sky-light, was lovely as a seraph's. Her +eyes were closed as if in sleep; the long braids of her +bright hair lay undisturbed upon her marble forehead, +and there was no appearance of violence, save where +the dress of sea-green silk had been torn back from her +bosom, as if in her dying agonies, displaying a dark +puncture, as of a grape-shot, just below the snowy +swell of the throat, from which the crimson blood oozed, +slowly trickling down over her white and rounded +shoulder. She had probably been killed by our first +raking broad-side.</p> + +<p>"Fire! fire!" shouted a dozen voices on deck. I +sprang up the companion-way. The fore-hatch had +been removed, and a dense volume of smoke was rolling +up from below. A glance was sufficient to show +that no effort of ours could save the vessel, and preparations +were speedily made to rescue the wounded, +and abandon her to her fate. It being impossible for +me to leave my duty on deck, I sent a trusty Hibernian +to rescue my helpless boy and to inform Percy of +our situation. He returned with a rueful countenance.</p> + +<p>"Ochone! Mr. Hackinsack," said the tender hearted +fellow, "it almost made the salt wather come intil +my een, to see the poor man and the beautiful kilt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +leddy,—an' whin I tould 'em as how the schooner was +burnin' and would be blown to Jerico in a twinklin' all +he said was to give me a terrible, ferocious-like scowl +and point with a loaded pistol to the companion; so I +took his mainin' an' left 'em."</p> + +<p>Two other messengers, sent to take him away by +force, met with no better success.</p> + +<p>The flames were ready to burst out on every side, +and from each chink and crevice around the hatches—which +had been replaced and barred down—the smoke +was darting up with the force of vapour from a steam +engine. The deck had become so heated that it was +painful to stand upon it—the fire was fast progressing +towards the run, where the magazine was situated. +Thrice had the order been given to quit the burning +vessel, but I could not forsake my friend without one +more effort to rescue him from the terrible fate that +awaited him, if left behind. He still held the loaded +pistol in his hand and sternly forbade my approach. +Poor Ponto had fainted from grief and loss of blood, +and lay across his sister's body. I sprang forward and +raised him in my arms, regardless of the maniac's +threats. The pistol banged in my ear, but fortunately +the ball passed over me as I stooped, and I regained +the companion-way without injury. By this time, he +had drawn another from his belt.</p> + +<p>"Put away the pistol, and come with me," I urged,—"the +vessel is on fire and will soon be blown to atoms."</p> + +<p>He looked at me with a grim stare for a moment, +then burst into an idiotic laugh. That wild laugh is +still ringing in my brain. "Ha! ha! ha!—Fire?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +fire? here it is, wreathing and coiling!—here! here!" +dashing his hand against his forehead.</p> + +<p>Perceiving that it was vain to reason with his madness, +and fearing for the life of the wounded boy in +my arms, I reluctantly left the hapless man to his fate.</p> + +<p>The boat had already put off for the last time, but +I succeeded in prevailing upon them to return, and +leaping in, soon reached the Dart in safety.</p> + +<p>The night set in wild and black as Death. Disparted +and ragged masses of cloud were rushing over the +face of the heavens, where once and again, the soaring +moon, and that same bright, solitary star, would show +their calm faces through the reeling rack, apparently +flying from this scene of turmoil and death. The increasing +wind howled mournfully through the rigging, +and our battered hull staggered along the inky main +writhing and shuddering on the heave of the surge like +a weary, wounded thing.</p> + +<p>We followed in the track of the burning vessel as +she fled along before the gale, awaiting in breathless +suspense the consummation of her wild career. The +black smoke, interfulgent with tortuous tongues of lurid +fire, rolled in immense volumes over her!—the red +flames darted up her masts, along the spars and rigging, +and gushed in swirling sheets from her ports and +bulwarks, while in their fierce gleams, the billows +that ramped and raved about her, glowed like a huge +seething cauldron of molten iron, and the gloomy clouds +that lowered above were tinged in their ragged borders, +as with blood. Occasionally the jarring thunder +of her cannon, as they became heated to explosion, +announced to us the progress of the insidious destroyer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>But a still more thrilling spectacle awaited us. In +the height of the conflagration, the hapless Percy, +bearing his dead wife in his arms, emerged as it were +from the very midst of the flames, and took a stand on +the companion-way. So strongly was the tall, dark-figure +relieved against the glowing element, that his +slightest gesture could not escape our scrutiny. While +with one arm he spanned the waist of the supple corse, +which apparently struggled to escape from his grasp, +he waved the other on high as if exulting in the whirl +and commotion around him. He seemed like the minister +of some dark rite of heathenism, preparing to offer +up a victim to the Moloch of his superstition.</p> + +<p>At length arrived the dreadful moment! The black +hull seemed to be lifted bodily out of the water. A +volume of smoke burst over her like the first eruption +of a volcano! A spire of flame shot up to the heavens, +filling the firmament with burning fragments, while +the clouds that overhung the sea, were torn and scattered +by the tremendous concussion. A crash followed—a +deep, bellowing boom, as if the solid globe had +split asunder!—then all was darkness—dreary, void, +silent as death!</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="TO_M_ON_HER_BIRTH-DAY" id="TO_M_ON_HER_BIRTH-DAY"></a>TO M***, ON HER BIRTH-DAY.</h2> + +<h3>By William Cutter.</h3> + + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though the skies of winter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look cold and cheerless now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What though earth wears no mantle<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But that of ice and snow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though trees, all bare and leafless,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stretch up their naked arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sad and mournful silence,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To brave the wintry storms!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is enough of sunshine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fond memory will say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around this morning clustered—<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>This is thy natal day!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though the birds of summer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flown far and long away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gentler climes are warbling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their loved and grateful lay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What though, in field and garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No fragrant incense pours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From nature's thousand altars—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her blossoms and her flowers!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's music sweet as angels',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fragrance sweet as May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the thoughts that breathe and blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around <i>thy natal day</i>!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To me, the skies above us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are bright as summer's noon!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trees, in crystal blossoms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More brilliant than in June!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's music in the wintry blast—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's fragrance in the snow—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a garb of glorious beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On every thing below!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oh! affection, wakened<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With morning's earliest ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has never ceased to whisper—<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>This is thy natal day!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="RELIGIOUS_OBLIGATION_IN_RULERS" id="RELIGIOUS_OBLIGATION_IN_RULERS"></a>RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION IN RULERS.</h2> + +<h3>By John W. Chickering.</h3> + + +<p>It is a great truth, and worthy of a place among the +few grand principles which lie at the foundation of all +wise and just government, that 'the Most High ruleth +in the kingdom of men.' This may be understood <i>de +jure</i>, or <i>de facto</i>; and in either sense must be believed, +not only by those who admit, on the authority of the +prophet, that it was spoken by a divine voice, but by +all who do not deny the whole theory of an overruling +Providence.</p> + +<p>That the almighty Ruler retains both a right and an +agency in the management of terrestrial governments, +is undisputed by all who recognize his right and his +agency in any thing. It is the atheist alone who would +insulate the kingdoms of the earth from the kingdom +of heaven. None would banish Jehovah from the +smaller empires his providence has organized and sustained, +but those who banish him from the universe his +power has created.</p> + +<p>Thus atheism in philosophy is sole progenitor of +atheism in politics; and it should not excite our surprise,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +that he who 'sees' <i>not</i> 'God in clouds nor hears +him in the wind,'—who beholds in the great things of +the earth, the air and the sea, no footsteps of divine +power, and no finger-prints of divine wisdom, should be +equally blind concerning the progress of civil affairs, +and should so have perverted his mind, and so tortured +the moral sense which God gave him, as to believe, +and to rejoice, that without God, kingdoms rise and +fall, and that it is <i>not</i> 'by him' that 'kings reign, and +princes decree justice.'</p> + +<p>But with the atheist, that moral monster,'—— horrendum, +informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum,' we +are not now concerned. We leave him to the darkness +he has brought upon himself through his 'philosophy +and vain deceit,' and to the enjoyment, if enjoyment +it be, of his dreary cavern, more dreary than that +of Polyphemus,—a godless world.</p> + +<p>We come to inquire, by way of preparation for +the more direct prosecution of the object of this article, +concerning the views entertained by the great mass of +mankind who believe in the existence and providence +of Jehovah, as to his particular connection with the +subordinate governments on earth, and the station +which it is his holy pleasure to occupy in their control +and management. And here we find at once, wide +and hurtful mistakes; occupying relatively, such is +man's tendency to extremes, the position of antipodes. +Some, overlooking the twofold agency, partly civil, +partly ecclesiastical, by which the Most High promotes +his own ends and the well being of his creatures, have +resolved each into the other, making religion an affair +of the state, and civil government a matter for ecclesiastical +influence; producing in practice the unseemly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +compound, commonly called "church and state," but +which might be more accurately characterized as the +ruin of both.</p> + +<p>As the fruits of this mistake, the world has seen profane +monarchs invested with titles of religion and piety. +In some countries, aided by ambition and intrigue, it +has brought kings to kiss the feet of the professed ambassadors +of Jesus Christ; and gained for them honors +and power, which their divine but humble master declined +for himself. This mistake has been confirmed, +if it was not originated, by the organization of the great +Jewish theocracy. This was, indeed, church and +state. But it was under a divine administration.—And +although the fact that the Deity not only attested and +ratified the alliance, but condescended to be legislator, +judge, and executive, might at once have prevented +the inference; yet men <i>have</i> inferred that the civil and +ecclesiastical powers ought always to be thus commingled. +The consequences might have been anticipated. +The history both of Christianity and of the world, is +darkened by their melancholy shade. Religion, unguarded +by the miraculous intervention of Him who, +under a former dispensation, smote the offerers of +strange fire, has been corrupted by those who would +do her honor, and crushed by the embraces of false +friends;—and her splendid sojourn in the halls of power, +has been met by reverses not less striking, and far +more disastrous, than Moses met after being the <i>protege</i> +of royalty; while the civil rights of men, invaded +by ambition and avarice, under the name of religion, +and with the sanction of God's name, have been yielded +up without a struggle, under the impression, that +resistance would be "fighting against God." What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +would not have been demanded in the name of man, has +been freely given in the name of God;—men who in +defence of their rights, would have ventured cheerfully +upon treason, have shrunk with horror from sacrilege.</p> + +<p>Thus religion and liberty have well-nigh perished +together, and their present resting-place on earth resembles +rather the one found by Noah's dove on her +second flight, than the broad home, illimitable but by +the world's circumference, which as philanthropists we +hope, and as Christians we pray, they may soon enjoy.</p> + +<p>Others again, warned, perhaps, by the disasters consequent +upon the policy last described, have gone to +the extreme, not less hurtful, and far more presumptuous, +of excluding religious motives and religious principles +from all influence in the affairs of the commonwealth. +They have thus become <i>quoad hoc</i>, practical +atheists. Content indeed, that the Deity should keep +our planet in motion, and regulate its seasons and its +tides; and surround and cover it with the blessings of +Providence, nor careful to forbid him a participation +even in the <i>internal</i> concerns of Jupiter, or Herschell,—perhaps +even willing to admit in theory, the truth of +the statement from the inspired record with which this +article commenced,—they yet deem it best for man, +considered either as a governing or as a governed being, +that the notion of a presiding Deity should be as +much as possible excluded from his mind. The mere +juxtaposition of the words "religion" and "politics," +or any of their correlates, is sufficient to excite the +fears of these scrupulous alarmists; and if they do not +imitate the example of the French, who were seen +near the close of the last century, rushing madly with +the pendulum-like oscillation of human nature, from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +the bonds of religious despotism, into the very wilderness +of atheism, and denounce Jehovah as a usurper, +and his adherents as rebels against "the powers that +be," they strive to separate all questions and acts of +government from God and his laws, as if there <i>were</i> +no God; thus making, if not an atheistic people, an +atheistic government. Far otherwise, we cannot but +pause here to remark, acted the noble men, the sifted +wheat of three kingdoms, who were thrown by God's +providence through ecclesiastical tyranny, upon these +shores. If they for a time, with a strange tenacity of +old habits, which showed that principle, not passion, +led them, clung to the very usages respecting toleration, +which had exiled them, they at least preserved +the nation which they founded, from the character and +the curse of a nation which despises God. Heaven +grant, that the pendulum may not even now be swinging +to the other extreme!</p> + +<p>While we would have the affairs of the nation managed +as if there were no <i>church</i> in the world, we would +not have them managed as if there were no <span class="smcap">God</span> in the +world. Could our voices reach the millions of our +countrymen, as Joshua's voice reached the thousands +of Israel, we would say as he said, '<span class="smcap">If the Lord be +God, serve him</span>.' In a word, while we believe that +the civil and ecclesiastical departments ought to be +distinct, and that their union is a departure from the +intention of Him who formed both, and that it is +fraught with the most disastrous consequences to both, +we do <i>not</i> believe that the almighty Ruler has excluded +himself from the control of either, or given the least +permission that either should be managed on any other +principles than the eternal principles of right, which are +embodied in his character, and laid down in his word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>When we speak of a sense of religious obligation, +we mean more than a general undefined belief that +such an obligation exists. Such a belief is withheld, +we trust, by comparatively few who hold important +places in our national and State governments. But can +it be doubted by any man who has accustomed himself +to contemplate the distinction between mere intellectual +assent, and the warm, practical conviction which reaches +the heart, and controls the conduct, that this belief +may coexist with as total an insensibility to the claims +of Jehovah, as if it were William IV., or Nicholas of +Russia, who performed them, instead of the Most High +God?</p> + +<p>Is it too much to desire, nay to infer, as a <i>duty</i>, from +what has already been said, that our rulers in the executive, +legislative, and judicial departments, both in +the general and State governments, should have <i>an +abiding consciousness of accountability</i>—should live +under <i>a felt pressure of obligation</i>—to the Sovereign +of the universe, which should assume, as it must where +it exists at all, a practical, binding force? Is it too +much to ask, that they should remember that they are +the servants of God for good to this great people, and +that to their own Master they stand or fall? That they +rule by God's permission, and for his ends; and that a +higher tribunal than any on earth awaits the termination +of their responsibility to man? That they should +remember their obligation, in common with those who +elevated them to office, "whatever they do, to do all to +the glory of God;" and the solemn truth, that a sin +against God or man, whether of omission or of commission, +whether committed in private, in the family +circle, or in the high places of authority, is no less a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +sin, when committed by a judge, or a legislator, or a +chief magistrate of a State or nation, than by the +humblest of his constituents? In a word, do we claim +too prominent a place for religious principle in the administration +of public affairs, when we avow our desire +that the rulers of a people, who are the nominal, and +in a free government the <i>real</i>, representatives of the +people, should be daily and practically aware, that they +are accountable to a higher Power, thus realizing, if +not in the highest and most Christian sense, yet in the +literal signification, the picture of a good ruler drawn +by the prophet, who, in the name of the almighty +Ruler, declares, "He that ruleth over men, must be +just—<i>ruling in the fear of God</i>!"</p> + +<p>We cannot reflect without occasion for the deepest +gratitude, that in contemplating the advantages of such +a state of mind and of heart, as possessed by men in +authority, we are not confined to <i>a priori</i> reasoning. +England has had her Alfred, her Edward VI., and her +Matthew Hale; Sweden her Gustavus Adolphus; our +own most cherished and beloved country, a Washington, +and a Wirt, with many others among the dead, +and not a few among the living, to whom our readers +may recur as we proceed, both for illustration of our +meaning, and proof of our assertions.</p> + +<p>Among the effects of this sense of obligation, which +go to show its importance to every man in public life, +we mention first, <i>its influence in checking the love and +pride of power</i>. It will not be said by any man, who +has acquired even a smattering of the science of human +nature, that the simplicity of our republican institutions +excludes all danger from this source. It is the +great weakness of man, to desire power; and, having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +it, to be proud of it; and, in his pride, to abuse it. It +matters not whether it be the power of a monarch on +his throne, or of the humblest village functionary. If +it be <i>power</i>, or even the semblance of power, it charms +the eye of the expectant, and, too often, turns the head +of the possessor.</p> + +<p>True, in this land, power walks in humble guise. +She rides in no gilded chariot—is clothed with no robes +of state—is preceded by no heralds with announcement +of noble titles—is decorated with no ribbons and +stars. Nor is there an office worth seeking, as a matter +of gain, except in some special cases, growing +rather out of individual character and circumstances, +than from design on the part of legislators. But who +will deny, that <span class="smcap">rank</span>, here, as elsewhere throughout the +wide world, has its attractions? And who, that has +thought upon the subject carefully, doubts that they are +as strong, as if it were hereditary? As far as pride of +heart in the possessor is concerned, undoubtedly the +temptation is even greater. That rank is <i>not</i> hereditary, +and is therefore attainable by individual effort, opens a +fountain of ambition in a thousand hearts, which, under +another constitution of society, would never have known +ambition, but as <i>a strange word</i>, while the fact that it +is ordinarily the prize of talent, attaches to it an additional +power to tempt and seduce the mind. It need +not be said, that so far as this love and pride of power +exists, it tends to subvert all the true ends of government.</p> + +<p>That the influence of a sense of subordination and +accountableness to the Supreme Being, will be direct +and strong in checking these tendencies of human nature, +is so plain as to command assent without argument.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +Who can be proud in the perceived presence +of infinite splendor and worth? How can ambition +thrive under the overshadowing greatness of almighty +Power?</p> + +<p>It is recorded of Gustavus Adolphus, that being surprised +one day by his officers in secret prayer in his +tent, he said: "Persons of my rank are answerable to +God alone for their actions; this gives the enemy of +mankind a peculiar advantage over us; an advantage +which can be resisted only by prayer and reading the +Scriptures." This remark, though it does not specify +the moral dangers to which the royal worshipper was +exposed, has reference, undoubtedly, in part, if not +mainly, to that pride and loftiness of heart, which are +the unrestrained denizens of those high regions in the +social atmosphere, which lie above the common walks +of life. Let a man in one of the high places of the +earth, be accustomed only <i>to look down</i>, and he is +ready like Herod of old, to fancy the flattery, truth, +which tells him he is a god;—let him <i>look up</i>;—there +Jehovah sitteth above the water floods and remaineth +king forever!</p> + +<p>Another important effect of such views of religious +obligation, will be seen <i>in restraining the blind and +ruinous excess of party feeling</i>. He is a short-sighted +politician indeed, who utters a sweeping denunciation +of party distinctions. And if they may be harmless, +and even in some cases form the very safety of the nation, +then party <i>feeling</i>, without which <i>parties</i> could +not exist, is, in some of its degrees and developements +right and desirable. But like the lightning of heaven, +while it purifies the political atmosphere, how easily +and how quickly may it desolate and destroy! In its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +healthful action, it is like the gentle breeze, which refreshes +man and fertilizes the earth; in its excess, like +the tornado, which sweeps away every green thing, and +even upturns the foundations of many generations.</p> + +<p>When it is a modification of true-hearted patriotism, +seeking the public good by party organizations, it is +right and safe; but when it is the offspring of the +wicked selfishness, already described, it is restrained +by no bounds, and directed to no good end. When a +public officer, of whatever rank, becomes the servant +of a party, instead of being a servant of God, for good +to the <i>people</i>, it is not difficult to foresee the consequences.</p> + +<p>No argument is necessary to show that he who feels +himself accountable to God, will be but slightly constrained +by the bonds of party influence. So far as he +regards the ends of a party as accordant with the true +ends of government, which in some cases may be +nothing more than the truth, and in others nothing <i>less</i>—his +sense of religious obligation will of course not interfere +with his diligent prosecution of those ends. +But at that critical point, where ends zeal for party, +for the sake of the common weal, and begins zeal for +party, for the party's sake, and for ambition's sake, +there a sense of paramount obligation, like the magnetic +power, will still the whispers of selfishness, and +counteract the tendencies of party commitment. The +Christian politician knows no party but the party of +patriots, or, if that party be divided, he seeks not the +building up of either fragment for its own sake—but +the building up on the best and most hopeful, or if +need be, on the ruins of both, the great fabric of public +welfare. Who does not desire to see a deep sense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +of allegiance to one who is our Master, pervading the +leaders and the adherents of the great political parties, +into which it is so common and perhaps necessary, for +nations to be divided?—under such an influence, how +might excesses be restrained, needless repellances be +neutralized, and how soon, instead of fierce bands of +brethren gathered in distinct and opposing array, like +the dark clouds of summer, meeting over our heads, +might we see the beauty and the strength of party organization, +without its wide severance and its deadly +hate, like the rainbow, which is not more beautiful in +the variety of its colors, than in the grace with which +the divine Painter has blended them.</p> + +<p>It will be denied by none, of whatever religious or +political faith, that public morals are, under a government +like ours, the life-blood of national strength and +safety. The day that shall behold us a nation of gamblers, +or duelists, or profane swearers or drunkards, or +Sabbath-breakers—will be the day of our political +death. Armies, and navies, and enterprise, and numbers, +with a sound hereditary government, may for a +time give prosperity to a dissolute immoral people. +But in a government like ours, where the laws and the +administration of law, are as quickly and as certainly +affected by the popular sentiment, owing to frequent +elections, as the sunbeams are reflected from the summer +clouds, prosperity cannot survive morality a single +day. And who can tell how important, in this +view, it is, that our public men should be public models +of private virtue!</p> + +<p>Oh, when, our hearts exclaim, when shall the <i>evil</i> +example be unknown in the high places of power; and +purity, truth, high-toned Christian morality, beam like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +another sun, from the seats of influence? The true +answer to this question would afford another argument +for the importance of that sense of religious obligation +which has now been considered. The command of +God is the only mandate in the universe which can effectually +restrain human passions and desires. The +voice which comes attended by the sanction, "Thus +saith the Lord," is the only voice which can successfully +say, "peace! be still," to the winds and the +waves of wrong inclination. When our rulers shall +"all be taught of God,"—and yield themselves to a +constraining sense of his dominion, and their own accountableness—then, +and not till then, will they as a +body, be such models of private correctness and virtue, +as many of them, both among the dead and among the +living, have been, for the imitation of the young men, +the hope and glory of our land.</p> + +<p>Again, and it is the last consideration we shall present, +how powerful a tendency would such views on +the part of our rulers, possess, to awaken the utmost +vigilance in the guardianship of their sacred trust, and +to elevate the mind and heart to the purest feelings, +and the noblest efforts.</p> + +<p>A sense of accountability, in some manner and to +some tribunal, is essential to ensure fidelity under all +temptations to indolence or perversion, in every case +in which men are the recipients of any trust. Apply +this principle to the case of him who holds some political +station of high importance. He feels himself responsible, +not only to men, but to God. He knows +and remembers that he is the <i>servant of God</i> for good, +to the people. This remembrance and impression is +the sheet anchor of his steadfastness. Other principles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +<i>might</i> hold him amidst the storms and commotions of +the popular sea, and of his own heart; this <i>must</i>. +With what care will he watch the precious trust, which +comes to him under the seal of heaven! How sedulously +will he guard the doors of the temple of liberty, +when he perceives within it the altar of God, and finds +his sentinel's commission countersigned with the handwriting +of Jehovah! His heart, too, will be filled with +the purest and most exalted sentiments.</p> + +<p>The fountain from which such a man daily drinks, +sparkles with the elements of all that is grateful and +refreshing.</p> + +<p>The purest patriotism, the sweetest charities of domestic +life, the most expansive and wise benevolence, +all spring up in the heart together, the consentaneous +and harmonious fruits of the love and fear of God. It +was in the same school that Wilberforce learned to +love the slave—Howard to love the prisoner—Wirt to +love his country—and all to love the world. They +<i>feared and obeyed God</i>—and all noble and generous +emotions grow spontaneously in the soil of the heart +thus prepared and enriched.</p> + +<p>Nor is the effort less marked or less salutary upon +the <i>mind</i>. Its thoughts are loftier, and its purposes +deeper and more steadfast, for being conversant with +the great subject of divine obligation. No man can +think much of the Deity, and realize strongly His constant +presence and inspection, without an elevation of +views, and a growing consciousness of that mental +power, for the right use of which he is accountable to +Him who bestowed it. We were not made to inhabit +a godless world, and we cannot make it so, in speculation +and in practice, without a deterioration analogous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +to the dwarfish tendency of emigration to a region +colder than our native clime. "God is a sun," to the +mental as well as to the moral powers; and in the frozen +zone of practical atheism, both degenerate and die. +The noble motto, "<i>Bene orasse est bene studisse</i>," applies +with hardly less force to secular, than to sacred +studies.</p> + +<p>With what energy must it arm the soul of the patriot +statesman struggling against wrong counsels, and +discredited dangers, to know that the God of truth and +of right, sees and approves his course! With what +new power does his mind grasp a difficult and embarrassed +subject, when he feels that the Former of that +mind, now demands from him an exertion of its highest +powers! What exciting power, to call forth the +most thrilling eloquence, can be found in the crowded +senate-chamber, compared with the consciousness that +for every word he must give account to Him, whose +applause, if he fulfils his high behest, will surpass in +value the shouts of an enraptured universe besides!</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="A_NEW-ENGLAND_WINTER-SCENE" id="A_NEW-ENGLAND_WINTER-SCENE"></a>A NEW-ENGLAND WINTER-SCENE.</h2> + +<h3>EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO A FRIEND IN ONE OF THE +WEST INDIA ISLANDS.</h3> + +<h3>By William Cutter.</h3> + + +<p>I have sometimes almost envied you the perpetual +summer you enjoy. You have none of the bleak, dark +wastes of Winter around you, and have never to look, +with aching heart, upon all fair, bright, beautiful things, +withering before your eyes, in the severe frown of frosty +Autumn. It is always green, and fresh, and fragrant, +in your Islands of eternal June. Your gardens +are always gardens, gay and redolent with sweet blossoms, +and rich with ripe fruits, mingling like youth +and manhood vying with each other, "from laughing +morning up to sober prime," pursuing, without blight +or dimness, the same gay round—blooming and ripening—ripening +and blooming, but never falling, through +all generations. Through all seasons, you have only +to reach forth your hands, and there are bright bouquets, +and mellow, delicious fruits, ready to fill them. +Your trees have always a shade to spread over you; +and they cast off their gorgeous blossoms, and their +luxuriant load, as if they were conscious of immortal +youth and energy—as if they knew they should never +fade, become fruitless, or die. There is no frail, +bending, withering age, in any thing of nature you look +upon—no blasting of the unripened bud by untimely +frosts—no falling prematurely of all that is beautiful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +and rare, to remind you daily that time is on his flight, +and that you will not always be young. I wonder you +do not think yourselves immortal in those everlasting +gardens! Oh! that perpetual youth and maturity of +every thing lovely!—how I have sometimes envied you +the possession!</p> + +<p>But I shall never envy you again. No—delightful +as summer is, soft as its breezes, and sweet as its music, +I would not lose the unutterable glory of this scene, +that is now before me, for all the riches of your Island,—its +unfading summer, and everlasting sweets. I +wish I could describe it to you—could give you some +faint idea of its celestial splendor. But, to do it any +justice, I should have travelled through the fields of +those glittering constellations above me, to borrow images +from the host of heaven. The attempt will be +vain—presumptuous—but I will try to tell you as much +of it as I can.</p> + +<p>The day has been dark, cold, and stormy. The +snow has been falling lightly, mingled with rain, which, +freezing as it fell, has formed a perfect covering of +ice upon every object. The trees and shrubbery, even +to their minutest branches, are all perfectly encased in +this transparent drapery. Nothing could look more +bleak and melancholy while the storm continued. But, +just as evening closed in, the storm ceased, and the +clouds rolled swiftly away. Never was a clearer, a +more spotless sky. The moon is in the zenith of her +march, with her multitude of bright attendants, pouring +their mild radiance, like living light, upon the +sea of glass that is all around us. Oh! how it kindles +me to look at it! how it maddens me that I have no +language to tell it to you! Do but imagine—The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +fields blazing out, like oceans of molten silver!—every +tree and shrub, as far as the eye can reach, of pure +transparent glass—a perfect garden of moving, waving +breathing chrystals, lighted into unearthly splendor by a +full, unclouded moon, and scattering undimmed, in every +direction, the beams that are poured upon them. The +air, all around, seems alive with illuminated gems. Every +tree is a diamond chandelier, with a whole constellation +of stars clustering to every socket—and, as they +wave and tremble in the light breeze that is passing, I +think of the dance of the morning stars, while they +sang together on the birth-day of creation. Earth is a +mirror of heaven. I can almost imagine myself borne +up among the spheres, and looking through their vast +theatre of lights. There are stars of every magnitude—from +the humble twig, that glows and sparkles on +the very bosom of the glassy earth, and the delicate +thorn that points its glittering needle to the light, to the +gorgeous, stately tree, that lifts loftily its crowned head +and stretches its gemmed and almost overborne arms, +proudly and gloriously to the heavens—all glowing—glittering—flashing—blazing—like—but +why do I attempt +it? As well might I begin to paint the noon-day +sun. Give a loose to your imagination. Think of +gardens and forests, hung with myriads of diamonds—nay, +every tree, every branch, every stem and twig, a +perfect, polished crystal, and the full, glorious moon, +and all the host of evening, down in the very midst of +them—and you will know what I am looking at. I am +all eye and thought, but have no voice, no words to +convey to you an impression of what I see and feel—No, +I'll not envy you again! What a picture for +mortal eyes to look on undimmed! The eagle, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +goes up at noon-day to the sun, would be amazed in its +effulgence. It is the coronation-eve of winter—and +nature has opened her casket, and poured out every +dazzling gem, and brilliant in her keeping, and hung out +all her rain-bow drops, and lighted up every lamp, and +they are all glowing, twinkling, sparkling, flashing together, +like legions of spiritual eyes, glancing from +world to world, in such unearthly rivalry, that the eye, +even of the mind, turns away from it, pained and weary +with beholding. There—look—but I can say no +more, my words are consumed, drunk up in this unutterable +glory, like morning mist when the sun looks +on it!</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="LOCH_KATRINE" id="LOCH_KATRINE"></a>LOCH KATRINE.</h2> + +<h3>By N. H. Carter.</h3> + + +<p>An eminence in the road afforded us the first view of +Loch Katrine, a blue and bright expanse of water, cradled +among lofty hills, though moderate both in point +of altitude and boldness, when contrasted with those +which had already been seen. The first feature that +arrested attention, was the peculiar complexion of the +water, which is cerulean, and differs several shades +from that of the other Scotish lakes. Its hue is probably +modified by the verdure upon the shores, as well +as by the geological structure of its bed, in which there +is little or no mud. Like some of our own pellucid +waters, it is a Naiad of the purest kind, sleeping on +coral and crystal couches. Its blue tinge was doubtless +in some degree heightened by the distance whence +it was first descried, as well as by the deep azure of +the skies after the late storm.</p> + +<p>Hastening to the shore, we waited some time for the +oarsmen, who accompanied us from Loch Lomond, to +bring out their boat from behind a little promontory, +which for aught I know, was the very place where +Rob Roy and Ellen Douglas used to hide their canoes. +There is no house within several miles of the landing. +The only building of any kind is a small temporary +hut, of rude construction, serving as a poor shelter in +case of rain. As this lake has become a fashionable +resort, one would suppose the number of travellers +would justify the expense of a boatman's house, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +would relieve the oarsmen from the trouble of walking +half a dozen miles, and the tourist from the vexation of +paying for it.</p> + +<p>At two o'clock in the afternoon, seven of us, including +the boat's crew, embarked, and commenced a +voyage to the foot of the lake, a distance of nine miles +in a south-eastern direction. Winds and waves both +conspired to accelerate our progress, and no Highland +bark probably ever bounded more merrily over the blue +billows. The cone of Ben-Lomond rapidly receded, +and Ben-venue and Ben-an, on opposite sides of the +outlet, came more fully in view. At the head, Glengyle +opens prettily from the north-west, with serrated +hills forming the lofty ramparts of the pass, in the entrance +of which is a seat belonging to one of the descendants +of Rob Roy M'Gregor. The width of the +lake is about two miles, with deeply indented shores, +which are generally bold and romantic, exhibiting occasionally +scattered houses and patches of cultivation, +particularly on the north-eastern borders. Our course +was nearest the south-western side, touching at one +little desolate promontory, to exchange boats, and often +approaching so close, as to enable us to examine the +scanty growth upon the margin.</p> + +<p>In about two hours from the time of embarkation, +we reached Ellen's Island, near the outlet; and half +encircling the green eminence, rising beautifully from +the bosom of the lake, our Highland mariners made a +port in the identical little bay, where the far-famed +heroine was wont to moor her skiff, fastening it to an +oak, which still hangs its aged arms over the flood. +This miniature harbor is also signalized, as the place +where Helen Stuart cut off the head of one of Cromwell's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +soldiers. As the story goes, all the women and +children fled hither for refuge. After a decisive victory, +one of the veterans of the Protector attempted to +swim to the island for a boat, with an intention of pillaging +and laying waste the asylum; but as he approached +the shore the above mentioned heroine, stepped +from her ambuscade, and with one stroke of her +dirk decapitated the marauder, thus rescuing her narrow +dominion with its tenants from destruction.</p> + +<p>The Island is small and rises perhaps fifty feet above +the water. It rests on a basis of granite, covered with +a thin coat of earth, through which the rocks occasionally +appear, and which affords scanty nutriment to a +growth of oak, birch, and mountain ash. The red berries +of the latter hung gracefully over the cliffs, in many +places shaded with brown heath. A winding pathway +leads to the summit, which is beautifully tufted, +and affords a charming view of the surrounding hills +and waters.</p> + +<p>In a little secluded copse near the top stands Ellen's +Bower, fashioned exactly according to the description +of the same object in the Lady of the Lake. Those +who are curious to form a minute and accurate image +of it, have only to turn to that picture. The exterior +is composed of unhewn logs or sticks of fir, fantastically +arranged, with a thatched, moss-covered roof, and +skins of beasts converted into semi-transparent parchment +for windows. Every thing within is in rustic +style. A living aspen grows in the centre, and supports +the ceiling. Upon its branches hangs a great +variety of ancient armor, with trophies of the chase. +Here may be seen the Lochaber axe, Rob Roy's dirk, +and sundry other curiosities. A table strewed with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +leaves extends nearly the whole length of the bower. +The walls are hung with shields, and the skins of various +animals. Chairs and sofas woven of osiers fill the +apartment. The chimney is formed of sticks, and the +head of a stag with his branching horns decorates the +mantlepiece. Half an hour was passed in lolling upon +Ellen's sofas, and in examining her domestic arrangements.</p> + +<p>Bidding a lingering farewell to the sweet little island, +we again embarked and soon completed the residue of +our voyage. The foot of Loch Katrine is very romantic +and beautiful. Innumerable hills of moderate elevation +raise their grey, pointed peaks around and above +a deeply wooded glen, opening towards the south-east +and forming the outlet of the lake. The highest of +these are Ben-venue and Ben-an, rising on each side of +the pass. Both are fine mountains, something like two +thousand feet in height, with naked masses of granite +overhanging wild and woody bases. From the great +number of peaks or <i>pikes</i> which are crowded into this +narrow district, it has been called the Trosachs, or +<i>bristled region</i>. The lake is here reduced to less than +half a mile in width, sheltered on all sides from the +winds by high promontories, jutting so far into the water, +as to appear like a group of islands.</p> + +<p>Towards the north-west, the eye looks up the glen +of Strathgartney, in which tradition says that the grey +charger of Fitz-James fell. The boatman gravely informed +us, that <i>his bones are to be seen to this day</i>! +Such stories, and the sketches of certain topographers, +have afforded us an infinite fund of amusement.</p> + +<p>We landed at the foot of Loch Katrine, and after +walking a mile and a half reached our hotel.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="WORSHIP" id="WORSHIP"></a>WORSHIP.</h2> + +<h3>By Asa Cummings.</h3> + + +<p>That heart must be desolate indeed, which is a stranger +to devotion. Were it possible to remain undevout, +and at the same time not be criminal, it were still a +state of mind most earnestly to be deprecated. It is a +joyless condition, to live without God in the world; to +be unsusceptible to the attractions of his moral excellence; +to pass the time of our sojourning in a world of +trial, without ever communing with the Father of our +spirits, or voluntarily casting ourselves on an Almighty +arm for support, and breathing forth to the Author of +our being, the language of supplication and praise.</p> + +<p>And how is the effect of devotion heightened by the +junction of numbers in the same service—even of the +"multitude who keep holy day!" A scene, so honorable +to Him "who inhabiteth the praises of Israel," +so fit in itself, so congruous to man's social nature and +dependant condition, so impressive on the actors and +spectators, and so salutary in its influence,—awakened +in the "sweet singer of Israel," the most ardent longings +for the courts of the Lord, and constituted the +glowing theme of more than one of his unrivalled songs. +Nay, under the influence of that inspiration which +prompted his thoughts and guided his pen, he does not +hesitate to affirm:—"<i>The Lord loveth the gates of Zion +more than all the dwellings of Jacob.</i>"<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> +<p>Far from us be the thought of casting upon the +Psalmist the imputation of undervaluing himself, or of +designing to lead his fellow-men to undervalue domestic +or private worship. Every contrite heart is an +abode where God delights to dwell—a temple where +he abides and operates—a chosen habitation, where he +reveals his love and displays his grace. It is a complacent +sight to the Father of spirits, to behold one +prodigal returning, to see an individual prostrate before +him, and lifting up his cry for pardon and spiritual +strength. It is pleasing in his eyes to see a family +at their morning and evening devotions, pouring out +their souls with all the workings of pious affection, and +the various pleadings of faith. No sweeter incense +than this, ever ascends to heaven. When, therefore, +God expresses his preference for the worship of the +sanctuary, it is not the <i>quality</i> which he regards, but +the <i>degree</i>; not the <i>kind</i> of influence exerted, but the +<i>amount</i>. In the sanctuary is the concentrated devotion +of many hearts. Here are more minds to be wrought +upon; here is a wider scope for the operation of truth; +here a light is raised which is seen from afar, and attracts +the gaze of distant beholders, as the temple on +the summit of Moriah, "fretted with golden fires," +arrested the eye of the distant traveller. Here is a +public, practical declaration to all the world, that there +is a God, and that adoration and service are his due.</p> + +<p>In the sanctuary the Creator and the creature are +brought near to each other. The character and perfections +of God, his law and government, the wonders +of his providence, the riches of his grace, the duty and +destiny of man, are brought directly before the mind +by the "lively oracles." "Beholding, as in a glass,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +the glory of the Lord, we are changed into the same +image." Truth, enforced by the energies of the life-giving +Spirit, "is quick and powerful." God "pours +water on them that are thirsty;" and in fulfilment of +the prophetic word, "young men and maidens, old +men and children," awakened to "newness of life," +spring up "as willows by the water-courses," and +flock to the Refuge of souls, "as doves to their windows." +A spectacle this, well pleasing to God, and +cheering to the hearts of his friends on earth—none +more so this side heaven. None produces such a commingling +of wonder, love, humility, and gratitude; none +calls forth such adoring thankfulness; none makes the +songs of the temple below so like that new song of +Moses and the Lamb, which is perpetually sung before +the throne above. Heaven is brought down to earth—eternity +takes hold on time; this world yields its usurped +throne in the hearts of men, and Jehovah reigns triumphant, +the Lord of their affections. "The power +and glory of God are seen in the sanctuary."</p> + +<p>Here, too, are ample provisions to meet all future +wants—moral means to restore the wandering, to recover +the spiritually faint, to refresh and fortify their +souls to sustain the conflict with temptation, to inspire +the heart with religious joy, to nourish that spiritual +life which has dawned in their souls. Here is the +"sincere milk of the word," on which they may +"grow;" the significant ordinances, so quickening to +the affections, so invigorating to man's spiritual nature. +The Baptismal water affects the heart through the medium +of the eye, and enforces the worshipper's obligation +to abjure the world, and to be pure as Christ +is pure. The Emblematic Feast, exhibiting "Jesus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +Christ set forth crucified before his eyes,"—while it +affectingly reminds him of his lost condition as a sinner, +contains an impressive demonstration of the power +and grace of his Deliverer, "in whom we have redemption +through his blood." His faith fastens itself +on this sacrifice. He is loosed from the bondage of +sin; his "soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness." +His fellowship is with the Father, and with the Son. +He has communion with the saints. He derives new +support to his fainting faith, and goes on his pilgrimage +rejoicing.</p> + +<p>The entire exercises and scenes of the house of worship—the +reading of the scriptures, the confessions, +prayers, and praises, the songs of the temple—for "as +well the singers as the players on instruments" are +there<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>—the preaching of the gospel, the celebration of +the sacraments,—all combine their aid to strengthen +pious principle, holy purpose, virtuous habit, and to +render the children of God "perfect, thoroughly furnished +to every good work." The place, the day, the +multitude, the power of sympathy, all conspire to give +effect to truth, and to rouse them up to labor for God, +for their species, for eternity: all combine to render +the house of God "the gate of heaven," the image of +heaven, and a precious antepast of the enjoyments of +heaven!</p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My willing soul would stay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In such a frame as this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sit, and sing herself away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To everlasting bliss."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_VALLEY_OF_SILENCE" id="THE_VALLEY_OF_SILENCE"></a>THE VALLEY OF SILENCE.</h2> + +<h3>By William Cutter.</h3> + +<blockquote><p>It was a perfect Eden for beauty. The scent of flowers came up on the gale, the swift stream +sparkled like a flow of diamonds in the sun, and a smile of soft light glistened on every leaf +and blade, as they drank in the life-giving ray. Its significant loveliness was eloquent to the +eye and the heart—but a strange deep silence reigned over it all. So perfect was the unearthly +stillness, you could almost hear yourself think.—<i>Katahdin.</i></p></blockquote> + + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Has thy foot ever trod that silent dell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a place for the voiceless thought to swell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the eloquent song to go up unspoken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the incense of flowers whose urns are broken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the unveiled heart may look in, and see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that deep strange silence, its motions free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And learn how the pure in spirit feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That unseen Presence to which they kneel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No sound goes up from the quivering trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they spread their arms to the welcome breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They wave in the Zephyr—they bow to the blast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they breathe not a word of the power that passed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their leaves come down on the turf and the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With as noiseless a fall as the step of a dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the breath that is bending the grass and the flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves o'er them as lightly as evening hours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The merry bird lights down on that dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, hushing his breath, lest the song should swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits with folded wing in the balmy shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a musical thought in the soul unsaid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they of strong pinion and loftier flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass over that valley, like clouds in the night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They move not a wing in that solemn sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sail in a reverent silence by.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The deer, in his flight, has passed that way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt the deep spell's mysterious sway—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hears not the rush of the path he cleaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor his bounding step on the trampled leaves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hare goes up on that sunny hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the footsteps of morning are not more still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wild, and the fierce, and the mighty are there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unheard in the hush of that slumbering air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stream rolls down in that valley serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content in its beautiful flow to be seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its fresh flowery banks, and its pebbly bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were never yet told of its fountain head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it still rushes on—but they ask not why,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its smile of light, it is hurrying by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, gliding, or leaping, unwhispered, unsung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the flow of bright fancies, it flashes along.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wind sweeps by, and the leaves are stirred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never a whisper or sigh is heard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when its strong rush laid low the oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a murmur the eloquent stillness broke.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the gay young echoes—those mockers that lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dark mountain-sides—make no reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, hushed in their caves, they are listening still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the songs of that valley to burst o'er the hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love society;—I am o'erblest to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mingling voices of a world; mine ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drinks in their music with a spiritual taste;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love companionship on life's dark waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And could not live unheard;—yet that still vale—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It had no fearful mystery in its tale;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its hush was grand, not awful, as if there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice of nature were a breathing prayer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas like a holy temple, where the pure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might blend in their heart-worship, and be sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sound of earth could come—a soul kept still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In faith's unanswering meekness, for heaven's will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its eloquent thoughts sent upward and abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all its deep hushed voices kept for God!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DESCRIPTIONS_OF_THE_DIVINE_BEING" id="DESCRIPTIONS_OF_THE_DIVINE_BEING"></a>DESCRIPTIONS OF THE DIVINE BEING.</h2> + +<h3>By Gershom F. Cox.</h3> + + +<p>It is a difficult task to shadow forth spirit. The best +emblems of the earth can give but faint and distant +views of its incomprehensible nature. Our own consciousness, +too, must fail to give us adequate notions +of the mysterious traits of its character. Aided by the +brightest images of earth, or the most subtle principles +of philosophy, who can bring to view any tolerably +good picture of a <span class="smcap">human soul</span>!—who can draw the +outlines of thought!—thought that is as immeasurable +as the universe!—thought that <i>could encompass</i>, with +more than the quickness of the lightning's flash, all that +God has made!—thought that gives to us, at once, the +gravity of the merest atom, the beauties and properties +of the petal of a single flower, or the structure, density, +size and weight of the worlds that border on the outskirts +of our own universe; and when it has done its +noble work, as if plumed for fresh conquests, stretches +itself far beyond the material universe, into the deep +solitudes of eternity, in quest of something more! +Who, we ask again, can give the outlines of thought? +Who can tell us of its yet hidden resources; or of a +mind like that of Newton, or of Bacon, which, after +they had taken from the arcana of nature some of her +most hidden principles, "entered the secret place of +the Most High, and lodged beneath the shadow of the +Almighty?" How much less, then, can we give just +descriptions of the <span class="smcap">Deity</span>! How can we describe Him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +"who covereth himself with <span class="smcap">light</span> as with a garment,"—whom +no man hath seen, nor can see.</p> + +<p>We are aware that every thing speaks of <i>a</i> God. +All nature has its language; and however dark the +alphabet, it still speaks, and speaks every where; for +there is no place where he has not "left a witness." +We acknowledge, too, that the only reason why the +deep tones of nature are not more audible, may be +found in the imbecilities or transgressions of man. +But, while the babbling brook hath its story to tell of its +Maker, and the willow that bends and sighs by its side, +and the pebble o'er which the streamlet rolls;—while +the glorious dew-drop has its power of speech—the +soft south breeze, and "the hoar-frost of heaven;" +while the deep vale may offer its chorus to the waving +corn, or to the lofty summit by its side; while often +may be heard the full notes of the angry tempest, and +of the tornado as it sweeps by us, carrying fearful desolation +in its path; although these may all speak forcibly +of the power, of the goodness, of the wisdom, of +the terrible justice of God; yet, without divine revelation, +like the inscription at Athens, they only point to +a God <span class="smcap">unknown</span>. The awful precipice, where</p> + +<div class="center"> +"Leaps the live thunder,"</div> + + +<p>in the hour of the tempest, doth but stun the intellect +of man with its overhanging and dizzy heights. And +"the sound of many waters," or "the deep, lifting up +his hands on high,"—although they may arouse every +passion of the spirit, and address it as with the voice of +God; yet, to man, these all want an interpreter. Lo! +these are but "<i>parts</i> of his ways." But what a mere +"<i>whisper</i> of the matter is heard in it, and the thunder +of his power who can understand!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nature speaks—we repeat it—but her language, to +us, is often indefinite; like the dream of Nebuchadnezzar, +it may arouse the spirit to inquiry—agitate +every passion to consternation; but without a Daniel to +interpret her admonitions, "the thing is passed from +us." Else why this gross ignorance of the character +of God among even the enlightened, or rather civilized, +nations of antiquity? Why did not Egypt, when all +the "wisdom of the east" was concentrated in her +sons, have <i>some</i> notions of the Deity that would have +raised their minds above the serpent or crocodile, or +some insignificant article of the vegetable creation? +Why did not the savage, roaming in the freedom of his +interminable forests, have some correct views of God? +He had talked with the sun, and heard the roar of the +tempest; the evening sky in its grandeur was an everlasting +map spread out before him, and the broad lake +mirrored back to him its glories. But how confused—how +degraded were the loftiest notions of the Deity, +among the most powerful of Indian minds!</p> + +<p>But I have already strayed from my purpose. I intended +only to give a specimen or two, of attempted +descriptions of the Deity, for the purpose of showing +the infinite superiority of those contained in the bible, +above every other in the world.</p> + +<p>It ought, however, to be recollected, that the descriptions +we find among heathen authors, are doubtless +more or less indebted to sentiments borrowed from the +Jewish scriptures; although we believe the contrast +will show that they have passed through heathen hands. +One of the most sublime to be met with in the world, +out of the bible, was engraved in hieroglyphics upon +the temple of Neith, the Egyptian Minerva. It is as +follows:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am that which is, was, and shall be: no mortal +hath lifted up my veil: the offspring of my power is +the sun."</p> + +<p>A similar inscription still remains at Capua, on the +temple of Isis:</p> + +<p>"Thou art one, and from thee all things proceed."</p> + +<p>In the above, evident traces are to be seen of the +Hebrew term <span class="smcap">Jehovah</span>. Some of Homer's descriptions +have their excellencies; but they all suffer from +the fact, that he clothes the deities he describes, not +only with human passions, but with human appetites +of the most degrading character. And he never seems +more satisfied with himself than when he represents +them heated for war! "Warring gods," when placed +at the foot of Calvary, or contrasted with any just description +of the true God, is certainly a revolting idea; +and it is still worse to introduce them as does Homer, +with the shuddering thought that,</p> + +<div class="center"> +"Gods on gods exert <i>eternal rage</i>!"</div> + +<p>And our impressions are scarcely more favorable +when he presents us with an <i>un</i>incarnate, and yet +"bleeding god," retiring from the field of battle, +"pierced with Grecian darts," "though fatal, not to +die." The following from this author is singular indeed:</p> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Of lawless force shall <i>lawless</i> MARS complain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the <i>most unjust</i>, most odious in our eyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In human discord is thy dire delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No bound, no law thy fiery temper quells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all <i>thy mother</i> in thy soul rebels!"—<i>Illiad, Book 5.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The following is far less exceptionable:</p> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And know, the Almighty is the God of gods.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">League all your forces then, ye powers above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Join all, and try the omnipotence of Jove;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Let down our golden everlasting chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose strong embrace holds heaven, and earth and main:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strive all, of mortal or immortal birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To draw, by this, the thunderer down to earth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye strive in vain! If I but stretch this hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heave the gods, the ocean, and the land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fix the chain to great Olympus' height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the vast world hangs trembling in my sight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For such I reign unbounded and above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such are men, and gods, compared to Jove."—Ill. b. vi.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Some of the above ideas are certainly sublime, and +considering the age that produced them, they have no +superior but the bible.</p> + +<p>As the <span class="smcap">koran</span> has attained considerable celebrity, +we should hardly be pardoned should we not notice it. +The passage on which the Mohammedan rests his +whole faith, for sublimity, and which is confessedly +unapproached by any thing else in the koran, is the +following:</p> + +<p>"God! There is no God but he; the living, the +self-subsisting; neither slumber nor sleep seizeth him; +to him belongeth whatsoever is in heaven, and on earth. +Who is he that can intercede with him but through his +good pleasure? He knoweth that which is past, and +that which is to come. His throne is extended over +heaven and earth, and the preservation of both is to +him no burden. He is the High, the Mighty."</p> + +<p>If the above passage contained a single <i>original</i> +thought, it might entitle it to higher praise than it can +now receive. But as there is no thought expressed, but +may be found in the book of Job, or among the inimitable +Psalms of David, written from sixteen hundred to +two thousand years before Mohammed, and which this +pretended prophet had before him—and as we can +hardly allow their originality of expression—the only +praise that can be bestowed upon its author is, that of +having studied the Jewish scriptures pretty closely, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +fact that is exhibited throughout his famous production. +But while we acknowledge that this is a brilliant passage, +it evidently does not surpass, nor even equal, either +of the following, selected from our own times.</p> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Eternal Spirit! God of truth! to whom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All things seem as they are. Thou who of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prophet's eye unsealed, that nightly saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While heavy sleep fell down on other men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In holy vision tranced, the future pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before him, and to Judah's harp attuned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burdens which make the pagan mountains shake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Zion's cedars bow,—inspire my song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eye unscale; me what is substance teach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shadow what, while I of things to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As past rehearsing, sing the course of time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Hold my right hand, Almighty! and me teach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To strike the lyre——to notes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wake the echoes of Eternity."—<i>Pollok.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the above extracts there is this remarkable difference: +Mohammed, in his description of Deity, has <i>no +thought</i> that refers to a <i>moral perfection</i> of God! And +indeed gross sensuality, and a destitution of high and +spiritual views, characterize his whole work.</p> + +<p>But with Pollok, the first thought is <span class="smcap">spirit</span>—a second, +<span class="smcap">truth</span>. And aside from this peculiarity, although you +turn over every leaf of the koran, we affirm that you +cannot find so sublime a conception as the following:</p> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hold my right hand, Almighty! and me teach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To strike the lyre,——to notes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wake the echoes of eternity."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But how infinitely, both in grandeur and simplicity, +do all these fall short of the inimitable <i>original</i> of most +of these, penned by David of the Old, or Paul of the +New Testament.</p> + +<p>"O, my God, take me not away in the midst of my +days: <span class="smcap">thy</span> years are throughout all generations. Of +old hast <span class="smcap">thou</span> laid the foundations of the earth, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +heavens are the work of thine hands. They shall +perish, but <span class="smcap">thou</span> shalt endure; yea, all of them shall +wax old like a garment; as a vesture shalt thou change +them, and they shall be changed. <span class="smcap">But thou art the +same, and thy years shall have no end.</span>"</p> + +<p>"Who is the blessed and only Potentate, the King +of kings, and the Lord of lords; who only hath <span class="smcap">immortality</span>, +dwelling in Light which no man can approach +unto,—whom no man hath seen, nor can see!"</p> + +<p>Or as in another place, "The King eternal, immortal, +invisible,—the only wise God."</p> + +<p>In the above specimens, there is a grandeur and +simplicity not to be found in any merely human composition.</p> + +<p>The following is very fine, from Habakkuk:</p> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"God came from Teman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Holy One from Mount Paran.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His glory covered the heavens,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his praise filled the earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His brightness was like the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of his hand [or side] came flashes of lightning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there was only the veil of his might.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before him walked the pestilence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And burning coals went forth at his feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stood, and the earth was moved;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looked, and caused the nations to quake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the everlasting mountains were broken in pieces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the perpetual hills did bow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His goings are from everlasting."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We scarcely know which to admire most, the above +or the following from the same author:</p> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The mountains saw THEE and trembled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The overflowing waters passed away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deep uttered his voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lifted up his hands on high.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun and moon stood still in their habitations.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the shining of thine arrows, (i. e. the lightnings,) they disappeared—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the brightness of thy glittering spear!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The following paraphrastic reference may be regarded +as barren in some respects, compared with others<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +that might be selected from the same living fountain.</p> + +<p>The <span class="smcap">Eye</span> of the Supreme Being is regarded as so +piercing as to pervade heaven, earth and hell, and the +awful depths of eternity. His <span class="smcap">countenance</span> is as the +sun shining in his strength. The wind, in its endless +whirl, is but his breath or breathing. His <span class="smcap">hand</span> is represented +so immense, that even its "hollow" will +"contain the waters of the great deep,"—and, when +"spanned," he "measures with it the whole heavens." +While "<i>sitting</i> in the circle of the heavens," the earth +is represented as the place where his feet rest. So +rapid in his motion, that "He <i>walks</i> upon the wings of +the wind." Of such awful strength, "that the earth," +with its countless inhabitants, are "less than the dust" +that accumulates "upon the balance." At one time +"He covereth himself with <i>light</i> as with a garment,"—and +at another, "He maketh <i>darkness</i> his pavilion, and +the thick clouds of the skies."</p> + +<p>These however are images all borrowed from sensible +objects, and, magnificent as they may be, they +fail of throwing upon the mind a full image of Him +who hath "no likeness in the heavens above, nor in the +earth beneath." And, besides, these glowing pictures +present to the mind none of his moral attributes. For +a description of these, we must look either to the +events of his providence, or a more particular disclosure +in the bible. And it may well astonish us, that, +after the lapse of more than three thousand years, we +may look in vain for a fuller or more perfect description +of the Divine Being, in words, than is given by <span class="smcap">Moses</span> +in that memorable moment upon Mount Sinai—</p> + +<div class="center"> +"Whose grey tops did tremble, when God ordained their laws."</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + +<p>A description that is like the sun rising upon the +chaos that surrounded him in the Egyptian mythology, +which at that time was so gross that no object in nature +was too mean for a deity. But "in the midst of +this darkness that might be felt," God was pleased to +reveal himself in the following language, at once sufficiently +grave and impressive to afford irrefragable proof +of its high origin.</p> + +<div class="hebrew"><p dir="rtl" lang="he" xml:lang="he"> +ויעבור יהוה על־פניו ויקרא יהוה יהוה אל רחום +וחנון ארך אפים ורב־חסד ואמת׃ נצר חסד +לאלפים נשא עון ופשע וחטאה ונקה לא ינקה +פקד עון אבות על־בנים ועל־בני +בנים על־שלשים ועל־רבעים׃ +</p></div> + +<div class="translit"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: transliteration added, not present in original">~Vay'avor Adonai 'al panav vaykra Adonai Adonai El ra[h.]um ve[h.]anun erekh +apayim verav [h.]esed veemeth. Notzer [h.]esed laalafim nose 'avon vafesha ve +[h.]atah venakeh lo yinakeh poked 'avon avoth 'al banim ve'al bnei vanim 'al +shileshim ve'al ribe'im.~</ins></div> + +<p>"And the Lord passed by before him, and proclaimed, +The Lord, The Lord God, merciful and gracious, +long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, +keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and +transgression and sin, and that will by no means clear +<i>the guilty</i>; visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the +children, and upon the children's children, unto the +third and to the fourth generation."</p> + +<p>Or, as these striking appellatives of the Divine Being +might be translated, without offering any violation +to the Hebrew,—the <span class="smcap">Jehovah</span>, the <span class="smcap">strong</span> and <span class="smcap">mighty +God</span>, the <i>merciful</i> <span class="smcap">One</span>, the <span class="smcap">gracious One</span>, the long-suffering +<span class="smcap">One</span>, the <span class="smcap">great</span> and <span class="smcap">mighty One</span>, the <span class="smcap">Bountiful +Being</span>, the <span class="smcap">True One</span>, or <span class="smcap">Truth</span>, the Preserver +of <span class="smcap">Bountifulness</span>, the <span class="smcap">Redeemer</span>, or Pardoner, the +Righteous <span class="smcap">Judge</span>, and He who <span class="smcap">visits iniquity</span>.</p> + +<p>This is a remarkable description indeed to come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +from one educated in the midst of Egyptian mythology; +and the awful names by which the Supreme Being +is designated, can only be accounted for, under +such circumstances, on the supposition that Moses received +them directly from the Almighty himself.</p> + +<p>But to close our article. The Divine Being is nowhere +so perfectly, so interestingly described as in the +<span class="smcap">character of Christ</span>. Here <span class="smcap">love</span> is unbosomed as +it could not be by language. Here heaven drops down +to earth; and the otherwise invisible beauties of the +invisible God, are made tangible even to the eye. The +<i>arm</i> of mercy, outstretched to the sinner—the eye of +justice softened by the tear of mercy—the heart of love +beating intensely with benignity, as well as every perfection +of the divine nature; are all laid open to the +view of sinful, helpless man, and we become "eye +witness of his glorious majesty." Here the tears of +mercy may be seen dropping upon its wretched objects +of commiseration; and the most secret emotions of the +divine mind, we may behold, heaving in the bosom of +the immaculate Jesus. Here indeed "God tabernacles +and walks with man." And as a confirmation of the +glorious truth, at beholding Him, "the sun stood still in +his habitation." "The sea saw him, and was afraid." +The earth trembled at his presence, and gave back the +dead at his voice. Well indeed might one exclaim, to +behold such a personage, "<span class="smcap">My Lord and my God.</span>"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_FRENCH_REVOLUTION" id="THE_FRENCH_REVOLUTION"></a>THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.</h2> + +<h3>By Charles S. Daveis.</h3> + + +<p>Never—since the period that Cæsar conquered Gaul, +when the inhabitants enjoyed a barbarian license under +their native chiefs and druids, had the voice of liberty +been heard in France, till the 14th of July, 1789. Never +before did such a note of exultation spread over the +vine-covered hills,—and echo among the beautiful valleys, +of that fair country. Never perhaps before was +there such a burden lifted from the minds of men. In +the unwonted consciousness of power, they seemed to +tread a new earth. In the intoxication of triumph they +burst from the bonds of morality and humanity. So +very singular, and strange, indeed, was the position in +which the people of France were placed by the revolution, +that their vernacular language was found deficient +in the appropriate phraseology of freedom; and they +were obliged to resort to a foreign idiom, and to the +customs of other climes, and the usages of other nations, +and to ransack the regions of fancy and invention, +for the vocabulary, as well as the drapery, of their +new republic.</p> + +<p>It is remarkable, that the revolution in France, beginning +in fact, with the destruction of the Bastile, +should end in the re-establishment of despotism. It +was a revolution indeed not more remarkable for the +original character of its cause, than its catastrophe; +for the astonishing contrast it exhibits between the +splendor of its talents and the atrocity of its crimes:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +for the reverence which it professed for antiquity, and +the mischief it produced to posterity; for adopting the +most enormous maxims, and enforcing them by the +most audacious means; for the use which it made of +its own freedom to enslave other nations to its law, for +erecting the empire of Rome upon the democracy of +Athens, for the adoption of a model of colossal grandeur, +and establishing the most tremendous system of +policy, that ever convulsed human kind:—a revolution, +conspicuous also for the sudden appearance of a race +of men springing up from the earth, as though it had +been sown with dragons' teeth, and its monstrous fruits +produced with hydras' heads and tigers' hearts;—resounding, +together, with the tribune, and the guillotine;—not +merely remarkable for tearing the priest from +the altar, but for rasing the altar likewise to the ground; +and distinguished for the successive destruction of some +of the most ancient thrones and crowns in Europe;—for +the ignominious death of the last in a royal line of +seventy sovereigns, who, at any former period of the +monarchy, would have been blessed as the father of +his people, and canonized as the true descendant of St. +Louis,—and the most affecting example on record of +an anointed queen, not more famed for her charms +than for her sorrows,—her errors more than atoned by +her sufferings, perishing without a tear, in a land of +ancient renown for chivalry, upon the scaffold! The +revolution in France was a scene at which sensibility +sinks. It seemed to extinguish the hopes of its friends +in the blood of its martyrs; and it was hardly relieved +by the virtues of its purest patriot, educated in the +schools of America, banished from the air of France, +and doomed to breathe the dungeons of despotism.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>To what are we indebted again for our escape from +that wild turmoil, which involved the elements of society +and government in Europe with an overwhelming +violence? Why was it, that while the storm, that +shook the continent abroad, beat against our iron-bound +shore, its fury was expended at our feet; and we heard +it howl along our agitated coast and die away at a distance? +Why did we enjoy a light, like the children +of Israel, in our dwellings, while Egyptian darkness +brooded around? Why, in this universal chaos, had +we such reason to congratulate ourselves on the good +providence of God, in ordaining us to be a world by +ourselves?—It was certainly not, that we did not enter +into the cause of liberty in France with enthusiasm; +for our hearts were in it as warmly as they were in our +own. Our sympathy was with it as long as it could +be sustained; our regret pursued it in dishonor,—and +our affection followed it into misfortune. We lamented +to see, that all the results of that amazing movement +of the human mind, contemplating the happiness of +millions, and looking to the improvement of ages, should +follow the fortune of foreign war; and that they should +centre in a single individual, carried away into captivity, +and doomed to end his days upon a solitary rock. +We grieved to behold the beautiful and brilliant star of +the French Revolution sink at last into mid-ocean, the +mere meteor of military glory.—Feeling all the disappointment +of its friends, we cannot but contrast it with +the deep repose, which our own illustrious and honored +patriots enjoy, in the land which gave them birth, beneath +the mighty shadows of our happy political revolution.</p> + +<p>Although, as Americans, we cease to cling to the +cause of revolutionary liberty in France with the lingering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +fondness of early affection, we continue to follow +its dying light, as though we could not believe it +had entirely sunk in darkness and despair. If it be not +possible to regard it uninfluenced by its unfortunate +termination, if we can borrow nothing from its origin to +relieve its mournful catastrophe, it behoves us still to +embalm the wounds of liberty with its healing spirit, +and it concerns us also, that all its sacrifices and services +for the sake of man should not have perished with +its victims. The vices of the ancient government rendered +it unfit for the happiness of France, without essential +alterations; and while we reflect with pain upon +the results of the revolution, we must bear in mind that +they were the excesses of men like ourselves, transported +by hopes excited by our example, and exalted by a +more ardent temper, untrained by the same favorable +habits and beneficial institutions;—and although its +transient violence may shock and repel our sympathy, +it ought not to disgust us with its principles, or to alienate +our attachment from its rational objects. Let us +not fail to perceive, as we shall, if we are attentive to +the facts, that what was good was in the cause; and +what was evil was the effect of that long oppression by +which it was corrupted. In this wonderful dispensation +to mankind we may not perhaps pretend to scan the +ways of providence; yet in common with the christian +world we cannot fail to behold the dealing of a divine +and overruling hand. Where the seed of liberty has +been sown, and watered with the blood, as well as +tears, of patriots, that seed is yet <i>in</i> the earth; and +whether it spring up before our eyes or not, it may be +the will of Him, to whom no eye is raised in vain, that +nothing shall be lost!</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="MRS_SYKES" id="MRS_SYKES"></a>MRS. SYKES.</h2> + +<h3>By Nathaniel Deering.</h3> + + +<p>One dark, stormy night in the summer of —— finding +my system had lost much of its <i>humidum radicale</i>, +or radical moisture, in truth a very alarming premonitory, +I directed Mrs. Tonic in preparing my warm +<i>aqua fontana</i> to infuse a <i>quantum sufficit</i> of Hollands; +of which having taken a somewhat copious draught, I +sought my cubiculum. Let no one imagine however, +that I give the least countenance to the free use of alcoholic +mixtures. They are undoubtedly poisonous, and +like other poisons, which hold a high rank in our pharmacopeia, +it is only when taken under the direction of +those deemed cunning in our art, that they exert a healing +power, and as one Shakspeare happily expresses it, +"ascend me to the brain." Now as the radical moisture +is essential to vitality and as this moisture is promoted +in a wonderful degree by potations of Hollands, we +of the Faculty hold with Horatius Flaccus "<i>omnes eodem +cogimur</i>"—we may all <i>cogue</i> it. But to return to +my <i>narratio</i> or story as it may be called. I had hardly +"steep'd my senses in forgetfulness" as some one +quaintly says, when I was effectually aroused by a loud +knocking at the window. The blows were so heavy +and frequent that Mrs. Tonic though somewhat unadorned, +it being her hour for retiring, yet fearful of +fractured glass, hurried to the door. I might here mention, +in order to show the reason of Mrs. Tonic's fears, +that my parlor front-window had been lately beautified<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +with an enlarged sash containing not seven by nine, the +size generally used, but eight by ten—panes certainly +of a rare and costly size and which Mrs. Tonic had the +honor of introducing. The cause of this unseasonable +disturbance proved to be a messenger from Deacon +Sykes stating that good Mrs. Sykes was alarmingly ill +and desiring my immediate attendance. Now in the +whole range of my practice there was no one whose +call was sooner heeded than Mrs. Sykes's; for besides +being an ailing woman and of course a profitable patient, +she had much influence in our village as the +wife of Deacon Sykes. But I must confess that on +this occasion I did feel an unwillingness to resume my +habiliments, that night as I before remarked, being uncommonly +stormy and myself feeling sensibly the effects +of the sudorific I had just taken. Still I should +willingly have exposed myself had not Mrs. Tonic +gathered from the messenger that it was only a return +of Mrs. Sykes's old complaint, that excruciating pain, +the colic; for Mrs. Sykes was flatulent. As the medicine +I had hitherto prescribed for her in such aliments +had been wonderfully blessed, I directed Mrs. Tonic to +bring my saddle-bags, from which having prepared a +somewhat smart dose of <i>tinct. rhei.</i> with <i>carb. soda</i>, I +gave it to the messenger bidding him return with all +speed. In the belief that this would prove efficacious, +I again turned to woo the not reluctant Somnus, but +scarcely had an hour elapsed when I was again alarmed +by repeated blows first at the door and then at the +window. In a moment I sat bolt upright, in which attitude +I was soon imitated by Mrs. Tonic, on hearing +the crash of one of her eight by tens. Through the +aperture I now distinctly recognized the voice of Sam<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +Saunders, who had hired with the Deacon, stating that +good Mrs. Sykes was absolutely <i>in extremis</i>, or as Sam +himself expressed it, "at her last gasp." On hearing +this, you may be assured I was not long <i>in naturalibus</i>; +but drawing on my nether integuments, I departed despite +the remonstrances of Mrs. Tonic, without my +wrapper and without any thing in fact except a renewed +draught of my <i>philo humidum radicale</i>. My journey +to the Deacon's was made with such an accelerated +movement that it was accomplished as it were <i>per +saltum</i>. This was owing to my great anxiety about +Mrs. Sykes, though possibly in a small degree I might +have dreaded an obstruction of the pores in my own +person. Howbeit, on arriving at the Deacon's, I saw +at once that she was beyond the healing art. There +lay all that remained of Mrs. Sykes—the <i>disjecta membra</i>, +the <i>fragmenta</i>—the casket! But the gem, the +<i>mens divinior</i> was gone and forever. There she lay, +regardless of the elongated visage of Deacon Sykes on +the one side, and of the no less elongated visage of the +widow Dobble on the other side, who had been some +time visiting there, and who now hung over her departed +friend in an agony of woe. "Doctor," cried the +Deacon, "is there no hope?" "Is there no hope?" +echoed the widow Dobble. I grasped the wrist of Mrs. +Sykes, but pulsation had ceased; the eye was glazed +and the countenance livid. "<i>A caput mortuum</i>, Deacon! +<i>defuncta!</i> the wick of vitality is snuffed out." +The bereaved husband groaned deeply; the widow +Dobble groaned an octave higher.</p> + +<p>On my way home my mind was much exercised +with this sudden and mysterious dispensation. Had +Sam Saunders blundered in his statement of her complaint?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +Had I myself—good Heavens! it could'nt be +possible! I opened my bags—<i>horresco referens!</i> it +was but too palpable! Owing either to the agitation +of the moment when so suddenly awakened, or to the +deep solicitude of Mrs. Tonic, who, in preparing my +<i>philo humidum radicale</i>, had infused an undue portion +of the Hollands—to one of these the lamented Mrs. +Sykes might charge her untimely exit; for there was +the vial of <i>tinct. rhei.</i> full to the stopple, while the vial +marked "laudanum," was as dry as a throat in fever. +I hesitate not to record that at this discovery, I lost +some of that self-possession which has ever been characteristic +of the Tonics. I was not only standing on +the brow of a precipice, but my centre of gravity +seemed a little beyond it. There were rivals in the +vicinity jealous of my rising reputation. The sudden +death might cause a <i>post mortem</i> examination, and the +result would be as fatal to me as was the laudanum to +Mrs. Sykes. A thought, occurring, doubtless through +a special Providence, suddenly relieved my mind. At +break of day I retraced my footsteps to the chamber +of the deceased. Accompanied by the Deacon I approached +to gaze upon the corpse; when, suddenly +starting back, I placed one hand upon my olfactories +and grasping with the other the alarmed mourner, I +hurried towards the door. "In the name of heaven!" +cried the Deacon, "what is the matter?" "The matter!" +I replied, "the matter! Deacon, listen. In all +cases of mortality where the radical moisture has not +been lessened by long disease, putrefaction commences +on the cessation of the organic functions and a <i>miasma</i> +fatal to the living is in a moment generated. +This is the case even in cold weather, and it being now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +July, I cannot answer for your own life if the burial be +deferred; the last sad offices must be at once attended +to." Deacon Sykes consented. Not, he remarked, on +his own account, for, as to himself, life had lost its +charms, but there were others near on whom many +were dependent, and he could not think of gratifying +his own feelings at their expense—sufficient, says he, +for the day is the evil thereof. I hardly need add, +that, when my advice to the Deacon got wind, the +neighbors with one accord rallied to assist in preparing +Mrs. Sykes for her last home; and their labors +were not a little quickened by the fumes of tar and +vinegar which I directed to be burnt on this melancholy +occasion. Much as I cherished Mrs. Sykes, still I +confess that my feelings were much akin to those +called pleasurable, when I heard the rattle of those terrene +particles which covered at the same time my lamented +friend and my professional lapsus.</p> + +<p>But after all, as I sat meditating on the ups and +downs of life during the evening of the funeral, the +question arose in my mind, is all safe? May not +some unfledged Galens remove the body for the purpose +of dissection?—Worse than all, may not some +malignant rival have already meditated a similar expedition? +The more I reflected on this matter and its +probable consequences, the more my fears increased, +till at last they became too great for my frail tenement. +There was at this period a boarder in my family, one +Job Sparrow, who having spent about thirty years of his +pilgrimage in the "singing of anthems," concluded at +length to devote the residue thereof to the study of the +human frame, to which he was the more inclined, probably, +as he could have the benefit of my deep investigations.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +His outward man, though somewhat ungainly, +was exceedingly muscular, and he had a firmness +of nerve which would make him willingly engage in +any enterprise that would aid him in his calling. Conducting +him to my sanctum or study, a retired chamber +in my domicil, "Job," I remarked, "I have long +noticed your engagedness in the healing art, and I have +lamented my inability of late to further your progress +in the study of anatomy from the difficulty of procuring +subjects. An opportunity, however, is at length +afforded, and I shall not fail to embrace it though at +the sacrifice of my best feelings. The subject I mean, +is the lamented Mrs. Sykes. Bring her remains at +night to this chamber, and I with my venerable friend +Dr. Grizzle will exhibit what, though often described, +are seldom visible, those wonderful absorbents, the <i>lacteals</i>.—It +is only in very recent subjects, my dear +Job, that it is possible to point them out." My pupil +grinned complacently at this manifestation of kindly +feelings towards him in one so much his superior, and +hastened to prepare himself for the expedition. It was +about nine of the clock when the venerable Dr. Grizzle, +whom I had notified of my intended operations +through Job, came stealthily in. Dr. Grizzle, though +from his appearance one would conclude that he was +about to "shuffle off this mortal coil," was a <i>rara avis</i> +as to his knowledge of the corporeal functions. There +were certain gainsayers, indeed, who asserted that his +intellectual candle was just glimmering in its socket; +but it will show to a demonstration how little such statements +are to be regarded when I assert that the like +slanders had been thrown out touching my own person. +The profound Grizzle, above such malignant feelings,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +always coincided with my own opinion, both as to the +nature of the disease we were called to counteract, +and as to the mode of treatment; and so highly did I +value him, that he was the only one whom I called to +a consultation when that course was deemed expedient. +We had prepared our instruments and were refreshing +our minds with the pages of Chesselden, a luminous +writer, when to my great satisfaction the signal of my +pupil was heard below. Hitherto our labors seemed +to have been blest; but a difficulty occurred in this +stage of our progress which threatened not only to render +these labors useless, but to retard, if I may so say, +the advance of anatomical science. It was this; the +stairway was uncommonly narrow, and the lamented +Mrs. Sykes was uncommonly large. As it was impossible, +then, for Job to pass up at the same time with +the defunct, it was settled after mature deliberation, +that he and myself, should occupy a post at each extreme, +while Grizzle assisted near the <i>lumbar</i> region. +"Now," cried Job, "heave together;" but the words +were hardly uttered, when a shreak from Grizzle, paralized +our exertions. Our muscular efforts had wedged +my venerable friend so completely between Mrs. +Sykes and the wall, that his lungs wheezed like a pair +of decayed bellows; and had it not been for the Herculean +strength of Job, who rushed as it were <i>in medias +res</i>, the number of the dead would have equalled +that of the living. At length, after repeated trials, we +effected, as I facetiously remarked, our "passage of +the Alps;" an historical allusion which tended much +to the divertisement of Grizzle and obliterated in no +small measure, the memory of his recent peril. And +now, having directed Job to go down and secure the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +door, Grizzle and myself advanced to remove the bandages +that confined her arms, previous to dissection. +But scarcely was the work accomplished when a sepulchral +groan burst from the defunct, the eyes glared, +and the loosened arm was slowly lifted from the body. +That I am not of that class who can be charged with +any thing like timidity, is, I think well proved by my +consenting to act for several years as regimental surgeon +in our militia, a post undoubtedly of danger. But +I must concede that at this unexpected movement, both +Grizzle and myself were somewhat agitated. From +the table to the stair-way, we leaped, as it were by instinct, +and with a velocity at which even now I greatly +marvel. This sudden evidence of vitality in my lamented +friend, or I might say rather an unwillingness +to be found alone with her in such a peculiar situation, +also induced me to prevent if possible the retreat of +Grizzle, and I fastened with some degree of violence +upon his projecting queue. It was fortunate, in so far +as regarded Grizzle, that art in this instance had supplanted +nature. His wig, of which the queue formed +no inconsiderable portion, was all that my hand retained. +Had it been otherwise, such was the tenacity of +my grasp on the one hand, and such his momentum on +the other, that Grizzle must have left the natural ornament +of his cerebrum, while I, though unjustly, must +have been charged with imitating our heathenish Aborigines. +As it was, his bald pate shot out from beneath +it with the velocity of a discharged ball; nor was the +similitude to that engine of carnage at all lessened +when I heard its rebounds upon the stairs. How long +I remained overwhelmed by the wonderful scenes +which I had just witnessed, I cannot tell; but on recovering,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +I found that Mrs. Sykes had been removed +to my best chamber, and Job and Mrs. Tonic both busily +engaged about her person. They had, as I afterwards +ascertained, by bathing her feet and rubbing her +with hot flannels, wrought a change almost miraculous; +and the effects of the laudanum having happily subsided +she appeared, when I entered, as in her pristine +state. At that moment they were about administering +a composing draught, which undoubtedly she needed, +having received several severe contusions on the stairway +in our endeavors to extricate Grizzle. But rushing +forward, I exclaimed, "thanks to Heaven that I again +see that cherished face! thanks that I have been the instrument +under Providence of restoring to society its +brightest ornament! Be composed, my dear Mrs. +Sykes, ask no questions to night, unless you would +frustrate all my labors." Then presenting to her lips +an opiate, in a short time I had the satisfaction of seeing +her sink into a tranquil slumber.</p> + +<p>As I considered it all important that the matter +should be kept a profound secret till I had arranged +my plans; and as Mrs. Tonic had in a remarkable degree +that propensity which distinguishes woman—I was +under the necessity of making her privy to the whole +transaction; trusting that the probable ruin to my reputation +consequent on an exposure would effectually +bridle her unruly member. My venerable friend too, +I invited for a few days to my own mansion lest the +bruises he received during his <i>exodus</i> from the dissecting +room might have deprived him of his customary +caution. The last and most difficult step was to prepare +the mind of Mrs. Sykes, who was yet <i>in nubibus</i> +as to her new location. With great caution I gradually<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +unfolded the strange event that had just transpired,—her +sudden apparent death, the alarm of the village +touching the <i>miasma</i>, and the consequent sudden interment. +'Your exit, my dear Mrs. Sykes,' I continued, +'seemed like a dream—I could not realize it. Such +an irreparable loss! I thought of all the remedies that +had been applied in such cases. Had any thing been +omitted that had a tendency to increase the circulation +of the radical fluid! There was the Galvanic battery,—it +had been entirely overlooked, and yet what wonders +it had performed! No sooner had this occurred +to my mind than I was impressed with the conviction +that you were to revisit this mundane sphere, and that +I was the chosen instrument to enkindle the vital spark. +No time was lost in obeying this mysterious impulse. +The grave was opened, the battery was applied <i>secundem +artem</i>—and the result is the restoration to society +of our beloved Mrs. Sykes.' In proportion to her horror +at the idea, that she must have rested from her labors +but for my skill, was her gratitude for this timely +rescue. She fell on my neck and clung like one demented, +till a gathering frown on the face of my spouse +warned me of the necessity of repelling her embraces. +Mrs. Sykes was now desirous of returning immediately +home, to restore as it were to life her bereaved consort, +who was no doubt mourning at his desolation, and +refusing to be comforted. But here I felt it my duty +to interpose. 'My dear Mrs. Sykes,' said I, 'your return +at this moment would overwhelm him. The sudden +change from the lowest depths of woe to a state of +ecstacy, would consign him to the tenement you have +just quitted. No! this extraordinary Providence must be +gradually unfolded.' She yielded at last to my sage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +councils and consented to wait till the violence of his +grief had somewhat abated, and his mind had become +sufficiently tranquil to hear that tale which I was cautiously +to relate. On the following day however, her +anxiety to return had risen to a high pitch, and truly +by evening it was beyond my control. She was firm +in the belief that I could make the disclosure without +essential injury to the Deacon; 'besides,' as she remarked, +'there was no knowing how much waste there +had been in the kitchen.' It was settled at last that I +should immediately walk over to the Deacon's, and by +a judicious train of reflection, for which I was admirably +fitted, prepare the way for this joyous meeting. +When I arrived at the house of mourning, though perhaps +the last person in the world entitled to the name +of evesdropper, yet as my eye was somewhat askance +as I passed the window, I observed a spectacle that for +a time arrested my footsteps. There sat the Deacon, +recounting probably the virtues of the deceased partner, +and there, not far apart, sat the widow Dobble +sympathizing in his sorrows. It struck me that Deacon +Sykes was not ungrateful for her consolatory efforts; +for he took her hand with a gentle pressure +and held it to his bosom. Perhaps it was the unusual +mode of dress now exhibited by the widow Dobble, +that led him to this act; for she was decked out in Mrs. +Sykes's best frilled cap, and such is the waywardness +of fancy, he might for the moment have imagined that +his help-mate was beside him. Be that as it may, +while I was thus complacently regarding this interchange +of friendly feelings, the cry of '<i>you vile hussy</i>' +suddenly rang in my very ear, and the next instant, +the door having been burst open, who should stand before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +the astonished couple but the veritable Mrs. Sykes. +The Deacon leaped as if touched in the <i>pericardium</i>, +and essayed to gain the door; but in his transit his +knees denied their office, and he sank gibbering as his +hand was upon the latch. As to the terrified widow +Dobble, I might say with Virgilius, <i>steteruntque comae</i>, +her <i>combs</i> stood up; for the frilled cap was displaced +with no little violence, and with an agonizing shriek +she fell, apparently <i>in articulo mortis</i>, on the body of +the Deacon. What a lamentable scene! and all in +consequence of the rashness and imprudence of Mrs. +Sykes. No sooner had I left my own domicil than +Mrs. Sykes, regardless of my admonitions, resolved on +following my steps, and was actually peeping over my +shoulder at the moment the Deacon's hand came in +contact with the widow Dobble's. It was truly fortunate +for all concerned that a distinguished member of +the faculty was near at this dreadful crisis. In ordinary +hands nothing could have prevented a quietus. +Their spirits were taking wing, and it was only by extraordinary +skill that I effected what lawyer Snoodles +said was a complete 'stoppage <i>in transitu</i>.' I regret +to state that this was my last visit to Deacon Sykes's. +Unmindful of my services in resuscitating Mrs. Sykes, +he remarked that my neglect to prepare him for the +exceeding joy that was in store, had so far shattered +his nervous system that his usefulness was over; and +in fine, had built up between us a wall of separation +not to be broken down. I always opined, however, +and of this opinion was Mrs. Tonic, that the Deacon's +coldness arose in part from an incipient warmth for +Mrs. Dobble, which was thus checked in its first stages. +It was even hinted that on her departure, which took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +place immediately, he manifested less of resignation +than at the burial of Mrs. Sykes. The coldness of the +widow Dobble towards me, certainly unmerited, was +also no less apparent, till I brought about what I had +much at heart, viz: a match between her and Major +Popkin. He was a discreet, forehanded man, a Representative +to our General Court, and kept the Variety +Store in that part of our town that was named in honor +of him, 'Popkins's Corner.'<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="OLD_AND_YOUNG" id="OLD_AND_YOUNG"></a>OLD AND YOUNG.</h2> + +<h3>By James Furbish.</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give me ripe fruit with the green—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh leaves mingling with the sear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in tropic climes are seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blending through the deathless year.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>I am alarmed at the changes which are taking place in +society. While many are lauding the <i>spirit of the age</i> +and holding up to my gaze the picture of <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'fourth-coming'">forth-coming</ins> +improvements—opening broad and charming vistas +into the almost <i>present future</i> of mental and moral +perfection, I cannot help casting a lingering look upon +the past. Time was when old age and infancy, manhood +and youth, walked the path of life together; +when the strength of young limbs aided the feebleness +of the old, and the joyousness of youth enlivened the +gravity of age. But the son has now left the father +to totter on alone, and the daughter has outstripped the +mother in the race. Beauty and strength have separated +from decrepitude and weakness. The vine has +uncoiled from its natural support, and the ivy has +ceased to entwine the oak.</p> + +<p>There is an increasing disposition on the part of the +young and the old to classify their pleasures according +to their age. Those pastimes which used to be enjoyed +by both together, are now separated. This is an +evil of too serious a character to pass unfelt, unlamented +or unrebuked. It is easy to refer back to days +when parents were more happy with their children, +and children more honorable and useful to parents<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +than at present. It is not long since the old and the +young were to be seen together in the blithesome dance +and the merry play. And why this change? Why +do we find that, within a few years, the old have abandoned +amusements to the young? Is it that they think +their children can profit more by their amusements +than if they were present? If this be the impression +it is to be regretted. No course could they possibly +adopt so injurious to the character of their children. +For youth need the direction and the advice of age, +and age requires the exhilaration and cheerfulness of +youth. How many lonely evenings would be enlivened—how +many dark visions of the future would be +dissipated, and how many hours of gloom and despondency +would be put to flight, if fathers would keep +pace with their sons, and mothers with their daughters, +in the innocent pleasures of life. Here, as it appears +to me, is the grand secret of happiness for the young +and the old. For the old, who are too apt to dwell on +the glories of the past and to see nothing that is lovely +in the present; and for the young, who throw too +strong and gaudy a light upon the present and the future. +Nature did not so intend it. So long as there is +life, she intended we should innocently enjoy it. And +the barrier which has, by some unaccountable mishap, +been thrown between the young and the old is, therefore, +greatly to be lamented. But how shall it be +removed? How shall we get back again to the good +old times of the merry husking, the joyous dance, the +happy commingling in the same company, of the priest +and his deacon, the father and his child, the husband +and his wife?</p> + +<p>It would not be difficult to trace directly to the discontinuance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +of the practice of joining with the young +in their amusements, the great increase of youthful +dissipation of every description. By being removed +from the advice, restraint and example of the old and +experienced, they have, by degrees, fallen into usages +which were almost unknown in years gone by. When +accompanied by parents, the hours of pleasure were +seasonable. Daughters were under the inspection of +mothers, and sons were guided by the wisdom of fathers. +Homes were happier, the community more virtuous, +and the world at large a gainer by such judicious +customs. We now hear the complaint that sons have +gone astray, that daughters have behaved indiscreetly, +and that families have been disgraced. But can there +be a doubt, if the practice were general of accompanying +our children in those pastimes in which they ought +to be reasonably indulged, that many of these evils +would be prevented? Here then must begin the reform. +Complain not that your son is out late, if you might +have been with him to bring him to your fire-side at a +seasonable hour. Complain not that your daughter +has formed an unsuitable or untimely connexion, if a +mother's care might have avoided the evil. Youth +<i>will</i> go astray without the protection of age. And it is +a crying sin that these old-fashioned moral restraints +have been removed. What, I ask, can be your object +in thus leaving your children to their own direction? +Do they love you the better for it? Are their manners +more agreeable—their conduct more respectful while +at home? Is not rather the reverse of this the case? +Do they not give you more trouble at home? Are +they not every day incurring new and useless expenses +in consequence of allowing them to legislate and plan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +for themselves? Rashness is the characteristic of +youth. But allowing them to be capable of governing +themselves, you are a great loser by drawing this +strong division line between their pleasures and your +own. Your own years are less in number and in happiness. +Your children are dead to you, though alive +to themselves. Your sympathies are not linked with +theirs step by step in life; and thus, although surrounded +by children, you go childless, unhappy and gloomy +to the grave. Reform then, I say, reform at once. +Annihilate this classification of junior and senior pleasures. +Join with your children in the dance, the song +and the play. Enjoy with them every harmless pleasure +and sport of life. Encompass yourself as often as +possible with the gay faces of the young. Teach them +by example, to be happy like rational beings, and to +enjoy life without abusing it. Let the ripe fruit be seen +with the green—the blossom with the bud—the green +with the fading leaf and the vine with its natural support:</p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Show the ripe fruit with the green—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh leaves twining with the sear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in tropic climes are seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harmonizing through the year.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="AUTUMNAL_DAYS" id="AUTUMNAL_DAYS"></a>AUTUMNAL DAYS.</h2> + +<h3>By P. H. Greenleaf.</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The melancholy days are come—the saddest of the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wailing winds and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heap'd in the hollows of the grove, the summer leaves lie dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They rustle to the eddying wind, and to the rabbit's tread:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the wood-top calls the crow, thro' all the gloomy day."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Stern and forbidding as are the general features of +our northern climate—cold and chilling as the gay +Southron may deem, even the very air we breathe,—we +have still some characteristics of climate peculiar to +ourselves, and none the less pleasing to us from this +fact. Our hearts must indeed be as hard and as cold +as the very granite of our craggy shores, did they not +glow with delight in the possession of that, (be it what +it may) which is peculiar to and markedly characteristic +of our native home. And of all these peculiarities +not one is so delightful—not one finds us so rich +in New England feeling, as that beautiful season called +the Indian Summer. It occurs in October, and is +characterized by a soft, hazy atmosphere—by those +quiet, and balmy days, which seem so like the last +whisperings of a Spring morning. The appearance of +the landscape is like any thing, but the fresh and lively +scenery of Spring; and yet the delicious softness of +the atmosphere is so like it, that it brings back fresh to +the mind all the beautiful associations connected with +a vernal day. Our forests too, at this season are, for +a brief space, clothed in the most gorgeous and magnificent +array; their brilliant and changing hues, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +the magnificence of their whole appearance, almost +give their rich and mellow tint to the atmosphere itself; +and render this period unrivalled in beauty, and unequalled +in the more equable climes of our western +neighbors. The calm sobriety of the scenery—the +splendid variety of the forest coloring, from deep scarlet +to russet gray, and the quiet and dreamy expression of +the autumnal atmosphere make a deeper impression on +the mind than all the verdant promises of spring, or +the luxuriant possession of summer. The aspen birch +in its pallid white—the walnut in its deep yellow—the +brilliant maple in its scarlet drapery—and the magical +colors of the whole vegetable world, from the aster by +the brook to the vine on the trellis, combine to render +the autumnal scenery of New-England the most splendid +and magnificent in the world.</p> + +<p>But we cannot forget, if we would, that this beautiful +magnificence of the forests is but the livery of +death; and the changing hues of the leaves, beautiful +though they are, still are but indications of the sure, +but gradual progress of decay.</p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Lightly falls the foot of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er he treads on flowers:'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and though he has breathed beauty on the clustered +trees of the forest—it is to them the breath of the Sirocco.</p> + +<p>We have in the wasting consumption a parallel to +this splendid decay of the leaves and flowers of Summer. +Day by day we see its victim with the seal of death +upon him—failing and decaying in strength—increasing +in beauty. While the brilliant and intellectual +glances of the eye speak, in language too plain for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +sceptic's denial, the immortality of the soul. The +changing and brilliant hues of the forest trees give to +us the most lively type of the frailty of beauty and the +brevity of human existence, while their death and burial +during the winter and their resurrection in the springtime, +are almost an assured pledge of our own immortality +and resurrection to an eternity.</p> + +<p>Truly 'the melancholy days are come'—Death annually +lifts up his solemn hymn, and the rustling of the +dying leaves and the certainty of their speedy death +afford to us all 'eloquent teachings.' The gay and +exhilarating spring has long since passed away—the +genial and joyous warmth of summer is no more; and +the grateful abundance and varied scenes of Autumn +are about yielding to the inclemency of hoary winter. +The gay variety of nature has at length departed—the +countless throng of the gaudy flowerets of summer are +all returned to their native dust—the light of the sun +himself is often veiled; and the bright livery of earth +is hidden from our sight by the gray mantle of the +iron-bound surface, or the unbroken whiteness of a +snowy covering. Reading thus the language of decay +written by the finger of God upon all the works of nature—reminded +too of the rapid flight of time by the +ceaseless revolution of seasons, we naturally turn our +thoughts from the contemplation of external objects to +that of the soul, and of unseen worlds. The appearances +of other seasons lead our thoughts to the world we +inhabit, and by the variety of objects presented to our +view rather confine them to sensible things, and matters +immediately connected with them. But the buried +flowers and the eddying leaves of this season teach us +nobler lessons; and the mind expands, while it loses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +itself in the infinity of being; and the gloom of the +natural world shows us the splendors of other worlds, +and other states of being;</p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'As darkness shows us worlds of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We never saw by day.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>They tell us, that in the magnificent system of the +government of God there exists no evil; and the mighty +resurrections annually accomplished in the multitude +of by gone years assure us, that the gloom of the night +is but the prelude to the brightness of the day—that +the funeral pall of autumnal and wintry days is the +harbinger of a glorious, joyous and life-giving spring; +and to that man the gates of the dark valley of the +shadow of death are designed as the crystal portals of +an eternity of bliss.</p> + +<p>'Of the innumerable eyes, that open upon nature, +none but those of man, see its author and its end.' +This solemn privilege is the birth-right of the beings of +immortality—of those, who perish not in time, but were +formed, in some greater hour, to be companions in +eternity. The mighty Being, who watches the revolutions +of the material world, opens in this manner to our +eyes the laws of his government; and tells us, that it +is not the momentary state, but the final issue, which +is to disclose its eternal design. Indeed the whole volume +of nature is a natural revelation to man, often +overlooked—often misused—seldom understood—but +plain and solemn in its language, and full of the wisdom, +justice and mercy of its author.</p> + +<p>While, then, all inferior nature shrinks instinctively +from the winds of Autumn and the storms of winter, to +the high intellect of man they teach ennobling lessons. +To him the inclemency of winter is no less eloquent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +than the abundance of Autumn, or the joyous promise +of Spring. He knows, that the fair and beautiful of +nature now buried in an icy covering, have still a principle +of life within them; and that the gay tendrils of +the vine and the blushing buds of the rose will soon +be put forth in the breath of summer. The stiffened +earth, he knows, will soon send forth her children in +renewed beauty, and he believes, that he himself, leaving +the chrysalis form of earthly clay will wing his +flight in the regions of eternity.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_PLAGUE" id="THE_PLAGUE"></a>THE PLAGUE.</h2> + +<h3>By Charles P. Ilsley.</h3> + +<blockquote><p>"And they that took the disease died suddenly; and immediately their bodies became covered +with spots; and they were hurried away to the grave without delay: And the men +who bore the corpse, as they went their way, cried with a loud voice, "<i>Room for the dead!</i>" +and whosoever heard the cry, fled from the sound thereof with great fear and trembling."</p> + +<div class="author"> +<i>Anon.</i><br /> +</div></blockquote> + + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Room for the dead!"—a cry went forth—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"A grave—a grave prepare!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The solemn words rose fearfully<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up through the stilly air:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Room for the dead!"—and a corse was borne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And laid within the pit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a mother's voice was sadly heard—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a breaking heart was in each word—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Oh, bury him not yet!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mother knelt beside the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And prayed to see her son;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas death to stop—but by her prayers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wretched boon was won,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they raised the coffin from the pit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then afar they fled—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the once fair face was spotted now—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the mother pressed her dead child's brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in a faint voice said—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Nor plague nor spots shall hinder me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From kissing thee, lost one!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what, alas! is life or death<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since thou art gone, my son!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she bent and kissed the livid brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While tearless was her eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then her voice rang wildly in the air—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Widow and childless!—God, is there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aught left me but—to die!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The words were said, and there uprose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A low and stifled moan—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then all was still—The spirit of<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That stricken one had flown!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They widened the pit, and side by side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mother and son were laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No mourning train to the grave went forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor prayer was said as they heaped the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above the plague-struck dead!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="OH_THIS_IS_NOT_MY_HOME" id="OH_THIS_IS_NOT_MY_HOME"></a>"OH, THIS IS NOT MY HOME!"</h2> + +<h3>By Charles P. Ilsley.</h3> + + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, this is not my home—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I miss the glorious sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its white and sparkling foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lofty melody.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All things seem strange to me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I miss the rocky shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where broke so sullenly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waves with deaf'ning roar:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sands that shone like gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the blazing sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er which the waters roll'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft chanting as they run:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And oh, the glorious sight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ships moving to and fro,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like birds upon their flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So silently they go!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I climb the mountain's height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sadly gaze around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No waters meet my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear no rushing sound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, would I were at home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the glorious sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bathe within its foam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And list its melody!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_VILLAGE_PRIZE" id="THE_VILLAGE_PRIZE"></a>THE VILLAGE PRIZE.</h2> + +<h3>By Joseph Ingraham.</h3> + + +<p>In one of the loveliest villages of old Virginia there +lived, in the year 175– and odd, an old man, whose +daughter was declared, by universal consent, to be the +loveliest maiden in all the country round. The veteran, +in his youth, had been athletic and muscular above +all his fellows; and his breast, where he always wore +them, could show the adornment of three medals, received +for his victories in gymnastic feats when a young +man. His daughter was now eighteen, and had been +sought in marriage by many suitors. One brought +wealth—another, a fine person—another, industry—another, +military talents—another this, and another +that. But they were all refused by the old man, who +became at last a by-word for his obstinacy among the +young men of the village and neighborhood. At length, +the nineteenth birthday of Annette, his charming daughter, +who was as amiable and modest as she was beautiful, +arrived. The morning of that day, her father invited +all the youth of the country to a hay-making frolic. +Seventeen handsome and industrious young men assembled. +They came not only to make hay, but also +to make love to the fair Annette. In three hours they +had filled the father's barns with the newly dried grass, +and their own hearts with love. Annette, by her father's +command, had brought them malt liquor of her +own brewing, which she presented to each enamored +swain with her own fair hands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now my boys," said the old keeper of the jewel +they all coveted, as leaning on their pitch-forks they +assembled around his door in the cool of the evening—"Now +my lads, you have nearly all of you made proposals +for my Annette. Now you see, I don't care +any thing about money nor talents, book larning nor +soldier larning—I can do as well by my gal as any +man in the county. But I want her to marry a man +of my own grit. Now, you know, or ought to know, +when I was a youngster, I could beat any thing in all +Virginny in the way o' leaping. I got my old woman +by beating the smartest man on the Eastern Shore, and +I have took the oath and sworn it, that no man shall +marry my daughter without jumping for it. You understand +me boys. There's the green, and here's +Annette," he added, taking his daughter, who stood +timidly behind him, by the hand, "Now the one that +jumps the furthest on a 'dead level,' shall marry Annette +this very night."</p> + +<p>This unique address was received by the young men +with applause. And many a youth as he bounded +gaily forward to the arena of trial, cast a glance of +anticipated victory back upon the lovely object of village +chivalry. The maidens left their looms and +quilting frames, the children their noisy sports, the +slaves their labors, and the old men their arm-chairs +and long pipes, to witness and triumph in the success +of the victor. All prophesied and many wished that it +would be young Carroll. He was the handsomest and +best-humored youth in the county, and all knew that +a strong and mutual attachment existed between him +and the fair Annette. Carroll had won the reputation +of being the "best leaper," and in a country where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +such athletic achievements were the <i>sine qua non</i> of a +man's cleverness, this was no ordinary honor. In a +contest like the present, he had therefore every advantage +over his fellow <i>athletæ</i>.</p> + +<p>The arena allotted for this hymeneal contest, was a +level space in front of the village-inn, and near the +centre of a grass-plat, reserved in the midst of the village +denominated "the green." The verdure was +quite worn off at this place by previous exercises of a +similar kind, and a hard surface of sand more befittingly +for the purpose to which it was to be used, supplied +its place.</p> + +<p>The father of the lovely, blushing, and withal <i>happy</i> +prize, (for she well knew who would win,) with three +other patriarchal villagers were the judges appointed +to decide upon the claims of the several competitors. +The last time Carroll tried his skill in this exercise, he +"cleared"—to use the leaper's phraseology—twenty-one +feet and one inch.</p> + +<p>The signal was given, and by lot the young men +stepped into the arena.</p> + +<p>"Edward Grayson, seventeen feet," cried one of +the judges. The youth had done his utmost. He +was a pale, intellectual student. But what had intellect +to do in such an arena? Without looking at the +maiden he slowly left the ground.</p> + +<p>"Dick Boulden, nineteen feet." Dick with a laugh +turned away, and replaced his coat.</p> + +<p>"Harry Preston, nineteen feet and three inches." +"Well done Harry Preston," shouted the spectators, +"you have tried hard for the acres and homestead."</p> + +<p>Harry also laughed and swore he only "jumped for +the fun of the thing." Harry was a rattle-brained fellow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +but never thought of matrimony. He loved to +walk and talk, and laugh and romp with Annette, but +sober marriage never came into his head. He only +jumped "for the fun of the thing." He would not +have said so, if sure of winning.</p> + +<p>"Charley Simms, fifteen feet and a half." "Hurrah +for Charley! Charley'll win!" cried the crowd +good-humoredly. Charley Simms was the cleverest +fellow in the world. His mother had advised him to +stay at home, and told him if he ever won a wife, she +would fall in love with his good temper, rather than +his legs. Charley however made the trial of the latter's +capabilities and lost. Many refused to enter the +lists altogether. Others made the trial, and only one +of the leapers had yet cleared twenty feet.</p> + +<p>"Now," cried the villagers, "let's see Henry Carroll. +He ought to beat this," and every one appeared, +as they called to mind the mutual love of the last competitor +and the sweet Annette, as if they heartily wished +his success.</p> + +<p>Henry stepped to his post with a firm tread. His +eye glanced with confidence around upon the villagers +and rested, before he bounded forward, upon the +face of Annette, as if to catch therefrom that spirit and +assurance which the occasion called for. Returning +the encouraging glance with which she met his own, +with a proud smile upon his lip, he bounded forward.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-one feet and a half!" shouted the multitude, +repeating the announcement of one of the judges, +"twenty-one feet and a half. Harry Carroll forever. +Annette and Harry." Hands, caps, and kerchiefs +waved over the heads of the spectators, and the eyes +of the delighted Annette sparkled with joy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Harry Carroll moved to his station to strive +for the prize, a tall, gentlemanly young man in a military +undress frock-coat, who had rode up to the inn, +dismounted and joined the spectators, unperceived, +while the contest was going on, stepped suddenly forward, +and with a "knowing eye," measured deliberately +the space accomplished by the last leaper. He +was a stranger in the village. His handsome face and +easy address attracted the eyes of the village maidens, +and his manly and sinewy frame, in which symmetry +and strength were happily united, called forth the admiration +of the young men.</p> + +<p>"Mayhap, sir stranger, you think you can beat that," +said one of the by-standers, remarking the manner in +which the eye of the stranger scanned the area. "If +you can leap beyond Harry Carroll, you'll beat the +best man in the colonies." The truth of this observation +was assented to by a general murmur.</p> + +<p>"Is it for mere amusement you are pursuing this +pastime?" inquired the youthful stranger, "or is +there a prize for the winner?"</p> + +<p>"Annette, the loveliest and wealthiest of our village-maidens, +is to be the reward of the victor," cried one +of the judges.</p> + +<p>"Are the lists open to all?"</p> + +<p>"All, young sir!" replied the father of Annette, +with interest,—his youthful ardour rising as he surveyed +the proportions of the straight-limbed young stranger. +"She is the bride of him who out-leaps Henry +Carroll. If you will try, you are free to do so. But +let me tell you, Harry Carroll has no rival in Virginny. +Here is my daughter, sir, look at her and make your +trial."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<p>The young officer glanced upon the trembling maiden +about to be offered on the altar of her father's unconquerable +monomania, with an admiring eye. The +poor girl looked at Harry, who stood near with a troubled +brow and angry eye, and then cast upon the new +competitor an imploring glance.</p> + +<p>Placing his coat in the hands of one of the judges, he +drew a sash he wore beneath it tighter around his waist, +and taking the appointed stand, made, apparently without +effort, the bound that was to decide the happiness +or misery of Henry and Annette.</p> + +<p>"Twenty two feet one inch!" shouted the judge. +The announcement was repeated with surprise by the +spectators, who crowded around the victor, filling the +air with congratulations, not unmingled, however, with +loud murmurs from those who were more nearly interested +in the happiness of the lovers.</p> + +<p>The old man approached, and grasping his hand exultingly, +called him his son, and said he felt prouder +of him than if he were a prince. Physical activity +and strength were the old leaper's true patents of nobility.</p> + +<p>Resuming his coat, the victor sought with his eye +the fair prize he had, although nameless and unknown, +so fairly won. She leaned upon her father's arm, pale +and distressed.</p> + +<p>Her lover stood aloof, gloomy and mortified, admiring +the superiority of the stranger in an exercise +in which he prided himself as unrivalled, while he hated +him for his success.</p> + +<p>"Annette, my pretty prize," said the victor, taking +her passive hand—"I have won you fairly." Annette's +cheek became paler than marble; she trembled like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +an aspen-leaf, and clung closer to her father, while +her drooping eye sought the form of her lover. His +brow grew dark at the stranger's language.</p> + +<p>"I have won you, my pretty flower, to make you a +bride!—tremble not so violently—I mean not for myself, +however proud I might be," he added with gallantry, +"to wear so fair a gem next my heart. Perhaps," +and he cast his eyes around inquiringly, while the current +of life leaped joyfully to her brow, and a murmur +of surprise run through the crowd—"perhaps there is +some favored youth among the competitors, who has a +higher claim to this jewel. Young Sir," he continued, +turning to the surprised Henry, "methinks you +were victor in the lists before me,—I strove not for the +maiden, though one could not well strive for a fairer—but +from love for the manly sport in which I saw you +engaged. You are the victor, and as such, with the +permission of this worthy assembly, receive from my +hands the prize you have so well and honorably won."</p> + +<p>The youth sprung forward and grasped his hand +with gratitude; and the next moment, Annette was +weeping from pure joy upon his shoulders. The welkin +rung with the acclamations of the delighted villagers, +and amid the temporary excitement produced by +this act, the stranger withdrew from the crowd, mounted +his horse, and spurred at a brisk trot through the +village.</p> + +<p>That night, Henry and Annette were married, and +the health of the mysterious and noble-hearted stranger, +was drunk in over-flowing bumpers of rustic beverage.</p> + +<p>In process of time, there were born unto the married +pair, sons and daughters, and Harry Carroll had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +become Colonel Henry Carroll, of the Revolutionary +army.</p> + +<p>One evening, having just returned home after a hard +campaign, he was sitting with his family on the gallery +of his handsome country-house, when an advance +courier rode up and announced the approach of General +Washington and suite, informing him that he should +crave his hospitality for the night. The necessary directions +were given in reference to the household preparations, +and Col. Carroll, ordering his horse, rode forward +to meet and escort to his house the distinguished +guest, whom he had never yet seen, although serving +in the same widely-extended army.</p> + +<p>That evening at the table, Annette, now become +the dignified, matronly and still handsome Mrs. Carroll, +could not keep her eyes from the face of her illustrious +visitor. Every moment or two she would steal a +glance at his commanding features, and half-doubtingly, +half-assumedly, shake her head and look again and +again, to be still more puzzled. Her absence of mind +and embarrassment at length became evident to her +husband who, inquired affectionately if she were ill?</p> + +<p>"I suspect, Colonel," said the General, who had +been some time, with a quiet, meaning smile, observing +the lady's curious and puzzled survey of his features—"that +Mrs. Carroll thinks she recognizes in me an old +acquaintance." And he smiled with a mysterious air, +as he gazed upon both alternately.</p> + +<p>The Colonel stared, and a faint memory of the past +seemed to be revived, as he gazed, while the lady rose +impulsively from her chair, and bending eagerly forward +over the tea-urn, with clasped hands and an eye<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +of intense, eager inquiry, fixed full upon him, stood for +a moment with her lips parted as if she would speak.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, my dear madam—pardon me, Colonel, +I must put an end to this scene. I have become, by +dint of camp-fare and hard usage, too unwieldy to leap +again twenty-two feet one inch, even for so fair a bride +as one I wot of."</p> + +<p>The recognition, with the surprise, delight and happiness +that followed, are left to the imagination of the +reader.</p> + +<p>General Washington was indeed the handsome young +"leaper," whose mysterious appearance and disappearance +in the native village of the lovers, is still traditionary, +and whose claim to a substantial body of <i>bona fide</i> +flesh and blood, was stoutly contested by the village +story-tellers, until the happy <i>denouement</i> which took +place at the hospitable mansion of Col. Carroll.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="INDIFFERENCE_TO_STUDY" id="INDIFFERENCE_TO_STUDY"></a>INDIFFERENCE TO STUDY.</h2> + +<h3>By George W. Light.</h3> + +<blockquote><p>We only find out what we have a sincere desire to know. All men have in themselves +nearly the same fund of primitive ideas; they have especially the same moral fund; the difference +which there is in men, comes from the fact, that some improve this fund, while others +neglect it.</p> + +<div class="author"> +<i>Degerando.</i><br /> +</div></blockquote> + + +<p>No argument ought to be required at the present day, +to prove that all men, however their capacities may +differ in kind or degree, possess the natural ability to +make considerable progress in some useful study. The +principles of our government proceed upon this ground, +and place every man under strong moral obligation to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +make the most of himself, that he may be able to bear +the responsibility that rests upon him. The protestant +principle, that all men have the right to judge for themselves +in matters relating to religion, is founded on the +same basis. Even the principles of trade—which every +body is supposed to be able to know—call for the +exercise of no small amount of intellect, to understand +and apply them to their full extent. The intimate connection +between the arts and sciences proves conclusively, +that those who are engaged in the one, ought to +be acquainted with the other. We are aware of the +common belief, that the study of the sciences is not +necessary with the mass of the community who are +engaged in the various active pursuits. But this narrow +view is fast going out of date. The progress of +<i>steam</i>, if nothing else, will ere long convince the most +incredulous, by its abridgment of human labor, that +the great body of mankind were intended for something +besides mere machines. The sciences of law and +medicine are no more closely connected with the practice +of the lawyer and physician, than mechanical and +agricultural science with the business of the mechanic +and farmer. The same may be said of other sciences, +as, for instance, of Political Economy, in its application +to mercantile affairs. In accordance with the spirit of +these views, opportunities for instruction are provided, +and means of self-education are multiplied, to an unparalleled +degree.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding, however, the general admission of +the truth under consideration, not a few persons who +think the improvement of their minds a matter of little +importance, undertake to excuse themselves, by modestly +confessing that they have no natural taste for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +study—that they cannot study. But it is difficult to +understand how they can be so blinded to the resources +they have within them, under the light which this day +of civilization is pouring upon them. Where do they +suppose themselves to be? Are they in some dark +domain, shut out from all the soul-stirring influences of +a boundless universe, dragging out an existence as +hopeless as it is degraded?—or do they dwell in the +midst of a glorious creation, with no understanding to +unravel its divine mysteries, and no heart to be moved +by the eloquence of its inspiration? One of these +things must be true, if we may reason from their own +language. If they do possess the high faculties of the +soul, and can do nothing for their cultivation, it cannot +be that they have their dwelling-place upon a world +belonging to the magnificent empire of God. There +can be no sun blazing down upon them, flooding the +earth with his glory, and giving fresh life and beauty +to every living thing. The evening can reveal to them +no myriads of stars, burning with holy lustre beyond +the clouds of heaven. They can see no mountains +towering to the skies; no green valleys, spangled with +the flowers of the earth, smiling around them. They +can hear no anthem sounding from the depths of the +ocean. They can see no lightnings flashing in the +broad expanse,—nor hear the artillery of heaven thundering +over the firmament, as if it would shake the +very pillars of the universe. If they could see and +hear this, with minds awake to the most noble objects +of contemplation, and hearts susceptible of the loftiest +impulses, they would inquire about the earth they tread +upon, the beautiful things scattered in such profusion +around them, and the sun and the ever-burning stars<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +above them. And they would not stop here. They +would search into the mysteries of their own nature. +They would look into the wonders of that upper life, +where the sun of an eternal kingdom burns in its lofty +arches, where the rivers of life flow from the everlasting +mountains, and where the pure spirits of the earth +shall shine like the stars forever.</p> + +<p>But, however paradoxical it may seem, these men do +dwell in the grand universe of God—and they do possess +inexhaustible minds: and they have been compelled +to quench the brightest flames and to prevent the +swelling of the purest fountains of their existence, in +order to descend to the condition of which they complain. +The Creator doomed them to no such degradation. +The truth is, they know nothing of themselves. +They do not understand their relations to the creation +that surrounds them. They do not comprehend the +great purpose to which all their labors should tend. +They waste those hours which might be devoted to the +elevation of their being, in practices that render them +insensible to the glories of the universe in which they +dwell, and to the sublime destiny for which they were +created. They deny themselves to be the workmanship +of God.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_VILLAGE_OF_AUTEUIL" id="THE_VILLAGE_OF_AUTEUIL"></a>THE VILLAGE OF AUTEUIL.</h2> + +<h3>By Henry W. Longfellow.</h3> + + +<p>The sultry heat of summer always brings with it, to +the idler and the man of leisure, a longing for the leafy +shade and the green luxuriance of the country. It is +pleasant to interchange the din of the city, the movement +of the crowd, and the gossip of society, with the +silence of the hamlet, the quiet seclusion of the grove, +and the gossip of a woodland brook.</p> + +<p>It was a feeling of this kind that prompted me, during +my residence in the north of France, to pass one +of the summer months at Auteuil—the pleasantest of +the many little villages that lie in the immediate vicinity +of the metropolis. It is situated on the outskirts of +the <i>Bois de Boulogne</i>—a wood of some extent, in +whose green alleys the dusty cit enjoys the luxury of +an evening drive, and gentlemen meet in the morning +to give each other satisfaction in the usual way. A +cross-road, skirted with green hedge-rows, and over-shadowed +by tall poplars, leads you from the noisy +highway of St. Cloud and Versailles to the still retirement +of this suburban hamlet. On either side the eye +discovers old chateaux amid the trees, and green parks, +whose pleasant shades recall a thousand images of La +Fontaine, Racine, and Moliere; and on an eminence, +overlooking the windings of the Seine, and giving a +beautiful though distant view of the domes and gardens +of Paris, rises the village of Passy, long the residence +of our countrymen Franklin and Count Rumford.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>I took up my abode at a <i>Maison de Sante</i>; not that +I was a valetudinarian,—but because I there found +some one to whom I could whisper, "How sweet is +solitude!" Behind the house was a garden filled with +fruit-trees of various kinds, and adorned with gravel-walks +and green arbours, furnished with tables and +rustic seats, for the repose of the invalid and the sleep +of the indolent. Here the inmates of the rural hospital +met on common ground, to breathe the invigorating +air of morning, and while away the lazy noon or vacant +evening with tales of the sick chamber.</p> + +<p>The establishment was kept by Dr. Dent-de-lion, a +dried up little fellow, with red hair, a sandy complexion, +and the physiognomy and gestures of a monkey. +His character corresponded to his outward lineaments; +for he had all a monkey's busy and curious impertinence. +Nevertheless, such as he was, the village Æsculapius +strutted forth the little great man of Auteuil. +The peasants looked up to him as to an oracle,—he +contrived to be at the head of every thing, and laid +claim to the credit of all public improvements in the +village: in fine, he was a great man on a small scale.</p> + +<p>It was within the dingy walls of this little potentate's +imperial palace that I chose my country residence. I +had a chamber in the second story, with a solitary +window, which looked upon the street, and gave me a +peep into a neighbor's garden. This I esteemed a great +privilege; for, as a stranger, I desired to see all that +was passing out of doors; and the sight of green trees, +though growing on another man's ground, is always a +blessing. Within doors—had I been disposed to quarrel +with my household gods—I might have taken some +objection to my neighborhood; for, on one side of me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +was a consumptive patient, whose graveyard cough +drove me from my chamber by day; and on the other, +an English colonel, whose incoherent ravings, in the +delirium of a high and obstinate fever, often broke my +slumbers by night: but I found ample amends for these +inconveniences in the society of those who were so +little indisposed as hardly to know what ailed them, +and those who, in health themselves, had accompanied +a friend or relative to the shades of the country in pursuit +of it. To these I am indebted for much courtesy; +and particularly to one who, if these pages should ever +meet her eye, will not, I hope, be unwilling to accept +this slight memorial of a former friendship.</p> + +<p>It was, however, to the <i>Bois de Boulogne</i> that I +looked for my principal recreation. There I took my +solitary walk, morning and evening; or, mounted on a +little mouse-colored donkey, paced demurely along the +woodland pathway. I had a favorite seat beneath the +shadow of a venerable oak, one of the few hoary patriarchs +of the wood which had survived the bivouacs of +the allied armies. It stood upon the brink of a little +glassy pool, whose tranquil bosom was the image of a +quiet and secluded life, and stretched its parental arms +over a rustic bench, that had been constructed beneath +it for the accommodation of the foot-traveller, or, perchance, +some idle dreamer like myself. It seemed to +look round with a lordly air upon its old hereditary +domain, whose stillness was no longer broken by the +tap of the martial drum, nor the discordant clang of +arms; and, as the breeze whispered among its branches, +it seemed to be holding friendly colloquies with a +few of its venerable contemporaries, who stooped from +the opposite bank of the pool, nodding gravely now and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +then, and ogling themselves with a sigh in the mirror +below.</p> + +<p>In this quiet haunt of rural repose I used to sit at +noon, hear the birds sing, and "possess myself in much +quietness." Just at my feet lay the little silver pool, +with the sky and the woods painted in its mimic vault, +and occasionally the image of a bird, or the soft watery +outline of a cloud, floating silently through its sunny +hollows. The water-lily spread its broad green leaves +on the surface, and rocked to sleep a little world of +insect life in its golden cradle. Sometimes a wandering +leaf came floating and wavering downward, and +settled on the water; then a vagabond insect would +break the smooth surface into a thousand ripples, or a +green-coated frog slide from the bank, and plump! +dive headlong to the bottom.</p> + +<p>I entered, too, with some enthusiasm, into all the +rural sports and merrimakes of the village. The holy-days +were so many little eras of mirth and good feeling; +for the French have that happy and sunshine temperament—that +merry-go-mad character—which makes +all their social meetings scenes of enjoyment and hilarity. +I made it a point never to miss any of the <i>Fetes +Champetres</i>, or rural dances, at the wood of Boulogne; +though I confess it sometimes gave me a momentary +uneasiness to see my rustic throne beneath the oak +usurped by a noisy group of girls, the silence and decorum +of my imaginary realm broken by music and +laughter, and, in a word, my whole kingdom turned +topsyturvy, with romping, fiddling, and dancing. But +I am naturally, and from principle, too, a lover of all +those innocent amusements which cheer the laborers' +toil, and, as it were, put their shoulders to the wheel of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +life, and help the poor man along with his load of cares. +Hence I saw with no small delight the rustic swain +astride the wooden horse of the <i>carrousal</i>, and the village +maiden whirling round and round in its dizzy car; +or took my stand on a rising ground that overlooked +the dance, an idle spectator in a busy throng. It was +just where the village touched the outward border of +the wood. There a little area had been levelled beneath +the trees, surrounded by a painted rail, with a +row of benches inside. The music was placed in a +slight balcony, built around the trunk of a large tree in +the centre, and the lamps, hanging from the branches +above, gave a gay, fantastic, and fairy look to the +scene. How often in such moments did I recall the +lines of Goldsmith, describing those "kinder skies," +beneath which "France displays her bright domain," +and feel how true and masterly the sketch,—</p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alike all ages; dames of ancient days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have led their children through the mirthful maze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the gay grandsire, skilled in gestic lore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has frisked beneath the burden of threescore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I was one morning called to my window by the +sound of rustic music. I looked out, and beheld a procession +of villagers advancing along the road, attired in +gay dresses, and marching merrily on in the direction +of the church. I soon perceived that it was a marriage +festival. The procession was led by a long orangoutang +of a man, in a straw hat and white dimity bob-coat, +playing on an asthmatic clarionet, from which he +contrived to blow unearthly sounds, ever and anon +squeaking off at right angles from his tune, and winding +up with a grand flourish on the guttural notes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +Behind him, led by his little boy, came the blind fiddler, +his honest features glowing with all the hilarity of +a rustic bridal, and, as he stumbled along, sawing away +upon his fiddle till he made all crack again. Then +came the happy bridegroom, dressed in his Sunday +suit of blue, with a large nosegay in his button-hole, +and close beside him his blushing bride, with downcast +eyes, clad in a white robe and slippers, and wearing a +wreath of white roses in her hair. The friends and +relatives brought up the procession; and a troop of village +urchins came shouting along in the rear, scrambling +among themselves for the largess of sous and +sugar-plums that now and then issued in large handfuls +from the pockets of a lean man in black, who seemed +to officiate as master of ceremonies on the occasion. +I gazed on the procession till it was out of sight; and +when the last wheeze of the clarionet died upon my +ear, I could not help thinking how happy were they +who were thus to dwell together in the peaceful bosom +of their native village, far from the gilded misery and +the pestilential vices of the town.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the same day, I was sitting by the +window, enjoying the freshness of the air and the beauty +and stillness of the hour, when I heard the distant +and solemn hymn of the Catholic burial-service, at first +so faint and indistinct that it seemed an illusion. It +rose mournfully on the hush of evening—died gradually +away—then ceased. Then it rose again, nearer +and more distinct, and soon after a funeral procession +appeared, and passed directly beneath my window. It +was led by a priest, bearing the banner of the church, +and followed by two boys, holding long flambeaux in +their hands. Next came a double file of priests in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +white surplices, with a missal in one hand and a lighted +wax taper in the other, chanting the funeral dirge +at intervals,—now pausing, and then again taking up +the mournful burden of their lamentation, accompanied +by others, who played upon a rude kind of horn, with +a dismal and wailing sound. Then followed various +symbols of the church, and the bier borne on the +shoulders of four men. The coffin was covered with a +black velvet pall, and a chaplet of white flowers lay +upon it, indicating that the deceased was unmarried. +A few of the villagers came behind, clad in mourning +robes, and bearing lighted tapers. The procession +passed slowly along the same street that in the morning +had been thronged by the gay bridal company. A +melancholy train of thought forced itself home upon +my mind. The joys and sorrows of this world are so +strikingly mingled! Our mirth and grief are brought so +mournfully in contact! We laugh while others weep, +and others rejoice when we are sad! The light heart +and the heavy walk side by side, and go about together! +Beneath the same roof are spread the wedding +feast and the funeral pall! The bridal song mingles +with the burial hymn! One goes to the marriage bed, +another to the grave; and all is mutable, uncertain, +and transitory.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_PAST_AND_THE_NEW_YEAR" id="THE_PAST_AND_THE_NEW_YEAR"></a>THE PAST AND THE NEW YEAR.</h2> + +<h3>By Prentiss Mellen.</h3> + + +<p>The close of the year, whose last knell has just been +heard, amid the chills and gloom of winter, when all +around reminds us of our departed friends and the loss +we have sustained, is peculiarly adapted to arouse us +from our inattention to the lapse of time, and impress +on our hearts the solemn truth that life itself is but a +vapor. Many, it is true, when they look into the grave +of the year, may experience a rush of bitter feeling, +as they fondly recollect how many cherished hopes +they have been called upon to bury in the tomb, during +the lapse of the year: how many friends have proved +false or ungrateful—how many of their suns have gone +down in the gloom of solitude, or amidst scenes of +sickness and poverty, or of sighing and sorrow. All +this is true, and such ever has been and ever will be +the complexion of human life. But though thousands +are thus educated in a school where such is the salutary +discipline, yet millions have been spending the year in +peace and joy—in health and abundance. Their journey +has been gladdened with sunshine, and their course +has been through fields of beauty and beside "the still +waters of comfort." It is useful—it is a species of +<i>gratitude</i> thus to look back and trace the course we +have been pursuing. If it has been delightful or smooth +and peaceful, our hearts should melt in tenderness +while we look to the <i>fountain</i> of all our blessings. If +our course has been wearisome through fields of sterili<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>ty, +or melancholy and companionless, we should remember +that Wisdom and Goodness preside over our destinies, +whether we are breasting the storm, or calmly +beholding the rainbow of promise. The year that has +bidden us adieu, was pleasant in its course, and its decline +gradual and beautiful. An unusual degree of +softness distinguished its autumn, resembling the last +years of the life of man, when the agitation of the passions +has in a great measure subsided; when his feelings +have become tranquilized, and all around him +peaceful and serene, if he has been careful to regulate +his conduct, on life's journey, by the principles of justice +and the commands of duty—if in his social intercourse +his passions have been preserved in due subjection +to the gentle influences of a benevolent heart, +displaying itself in acts of mercy like the good Samaritan.</p> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">"Sure the last end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the good man is peace. How calm his exit!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night dews fall not more gently on the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor weary, worn-out winds expire so soft."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The new year to which we have just been introduced +is, in one sense, a perfect stranger, though we have +long been intimate with the <i>family</i> to which it belongs, +and of course have some general acquaintance with +certain features of its character, leading us to anticipate +its promises and its failure to perform them in +many instances,—its smiles and its tears—its flatteries +and its frowns—its gaieties and hopes—its gradual decline—decay +and dissolution:—but we have abundant +reason too for indulging the belief that we may enjoy +thousands of blessings, if we are disposed to cherish +proper feelings—to be kind and courteous and obliging,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +and ever on our guard to avoid unnecessarily wounding +the feelings of others; ever ready to acknowledge the +favors we receive, and render a suitable return. How +easily all this may be done! How often is it grossly +neglected! He who consults <i>his own</i> ease and comfort +cannot in any manner attain the desired result so +readily and certainly, as by habitually consulting the +ease and comfort of others, with whom he is in the +habit of associating: and this is true politeness also. +A man who is dissatisfied with himself and those around +him, and laboring under the darkening influence of disturbed +or morose feelings "may travel from Dan to +Beersheba and say it is all barren;"—to him it will +appear so; and the effect would be the same if his +journey lay amidst the most delightful scenes of rural +beauty. The seasons of the year all give their annual +<i>lessons</i> for instruction: It is our wisdom to regard them +carefully. <i>Spring</i> summons us all to cheerful activity, +with assurances that our labor will not be in vain. +<i>Summer</i> performs what <i>Spring</i> had promised, and +shews us the advantage of listening to early instruction +and wisely improving it. Ten thousand songsters are +filling the branches with their animating strains of music +and gratitude, and teaching us to enjoy, as they do, +the countless blessings and bounties of nature; <i>their</i> +music is never failing—nor do we see it ending in <i>discords</i>. +Let us all, as we journey onward together +through the year, learn to tune our <i>hearts</i> as they do +their <i>voices</i>, and pass the fleeting period in harmony, +and in that <i>cheerfulness</i> which the excellent Addison +has honored with the name of a <i>continual expression of +gratitude to Heaven</i>. In Germany the <i>study</i> and <i>practice</i> +of music are general among the people. Besides<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +other advantages resulting from making music a part +of common education, it is not romantic or utopian to +observe that it teaches how easily music—pure and +surpassing music—may be made on the <i>same</i> instrument, +which under an ignorant or purposed touch will +send forth discords in prodigious varieties. He who +has become <i>acquainted</i> with the instrument, though +not a <i>master</i> of it, well knows how to <i>avoid</i> those combinations +of sound which are painful to the ear, and +often tend to disturb feelings and passions. What +tones are sweeter than those produced by the gentle +breeze of heaven in passing over the strings of the +Æolian Harp? The reason is, those strings are so +attuned as that their vibrations will not respond except +in notes of harmony: but only disorder the strings, by +increasing the tension of some and decreasing that of +others, and the sweetest zephyr will produce nothing +but the vilest discords, resembling angry passions. Let +us then, in our journey through the year on which we +have entered, acquire as much as possible a knowledge +of the <i>science</i> and the <i>art</i> of social and domestic <i>moral +music</i>. Let us learn to measure our <i>time</i> with care, to +cultivate our <i>voices</i>, that they may lose all harshness: +let each attend to <i>his own part</i>, and strive to excel in +that. Let us consider our <i>feelings</i>, <i>passions</i> and <i>dispositions</i>, +as the <i>strings of the Harp</i>; and the <i>ordinary +events of life</i> as the <i>breezes</i> which give vibration +to the strings: if these strings—our feelings, passions +and dispositions—are in proper tune—under due regulation, +and preserving a just relation, each to all the +others, we have then all the elements of moral music, +domestic and social, and in a few weeks, by due regard +to all the principles and arrangement above mentioned,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +we shall soon be good scholars, <i>giving</i> and <i>receiving</i> +all that pleasure which harmony can afford; and as +the sober <i>autumn</i> advances, our <i>tastes</i> for this kind of +music will be more and more ripened towards perfection; +and when the cold <i>decemberly</i> evenings shall arrive, +we can listen to the <i>angry music</i> of the elements +abroad, full of discordant strains, sweeping by our peaceful +homes, while <i>within</i> them all may be the music +of the heart, in its gentlest movements.</p> + +<p>It is a melancholy truth that we ourselves manufacture +seven eighths of what we are disposed to term our +<i>misfortunes</i> in this world. Want of precaution mars +our arrangements: want of prudence exposes us to +dangers which we might easily have avoided—want of +patience often hurries us into difficulties, and disqualifies +us to bear them with calmness or decency. Indulgence +in follies and fashions often plants the seeds +of wasting disease. Intemperance in our passions always +is followed by unwelcome sensations, and sometimes +with a sense of shame. Stimulants are succeeded +by debility, and when they are used to excess, we +know and daily witness the dreadful results—if death +is not one of them—either the death of the offender, or +of some other destroyed by his hand in the tempest of +infuriated passions—we are too often compelled to +mourn over the desolation they occasion—presenting +in one view,</p> + +<div class="center"> +"Hate—grief—despair—the family of pain."</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_RUIN_OF_A_NIGHT" id="THE_RUIN_OF_A_NIGHT"></a>THE RUIN OF A NIGHT.</h2> + +<h3>STANZAS SUGGESTED ON VIEWING THE GROUND OF THE +GREAT FIRE IN NEW-YORK.</h3> + +<h3>By Grenville Mellen.</h3> + + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">It was still noon—and Sabbath. The pale air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hung over the great city like a shroud—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And echo answer'd to a footstep there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where late went up the thunder of a crowd!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wander'd like a pilgrim round the piles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That Ruin heap'd about the wildering way—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as I pass'd, I saw the withering smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That did on faces of dull gazers play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they stood round the ashes of that grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all that yesterday rose there, so broad and brave!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I mus'd as I went thro' the shadowy path<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of broken, blacken'd walls, and pillars high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which had surviv'd that visiting of wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now lean'd dim against the lurid sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I heard the rude laugh break from ruder hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those ruffian exclamations of lost souls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At which a better spirit wakes and starts—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The revelry of demons o'er their bowls—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until I felt how faint rebuke may fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over a people, tho' it come in sword and pall!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">There was no lesson in that mighty pyre—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or, if it rose, it faded with the flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And crime, relentless, from that smouldering fire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would lift, at night, its stealthy arm the same<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the lone wanderer, as, amid the crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It glided oft before, to filch its gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the great voice of rivalry was loud,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And onward the deep tide of commerce roll'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I thought how idle was the darkest ban,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fate, in her fiercest eloquence, can pour on man!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I thought how quick the seal of nothingness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is set on man's best glory—and how deep!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How soon the Greatest grovels with the Less,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And they who shouted bravest, bow to weep!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How quick the veriest triumph of our years,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fulfill'd by a dim life of toil and pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is chang'd to one sad festival of tears—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Time is but a storm—and visions wane!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How quick Destruction can make classical<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crowded, golden ground, where her fell footsteps fall!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The ground that yesterday was consecrate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the wild spirit-power of Gold and Gain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where riches, like some thing of worship sate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Worth of Wealth ask'd precedence in vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the hard hand was busy with the dust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With which it soon must mingle—though it gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Often with jewels—splendid, but accurst,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That make the trappings of this Life's poor dream!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And where, too, Bounty, like a fountain, sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In streams, though not unfelt, in shadow, and unsung!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Alas! that pillar'd pile! how, as I gaz'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the blacken'd shafts, did I recall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sculptur'd marble there, whose brow was rais'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So like a god's, within that shadowy hall!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Immortal <span class="smcap">Hamilton</span>!—though crumbled deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the red chaos of that billowy night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It needs no chisel's memory to keep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy spirit's nobler outline vast and bright!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No Time—no element can mar the fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gather'd, like fadeless sunlight, round thy spotless name!</span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="COURTSHIP" id="COURTSHIP"></a>COURTSHIP.</h2> + +<h3>By Wm. L. McClintock.</h3> + + +<p>After my sleighride, last winter, and the slippery +trick I was served by Patty Bean, nobody would suspect +me of hankering after the women again in a hurry. +To hear me curse and swear and rail out against the +whole feminine gender, you would have taken it for +granted that I should never so much as look at one +again, to all eternity—O, but I was wicked. "Darn +and blast their eyes"—says I.—"Blame their skins—torment +their hearts and darn them to darnation." Finally +I took an oath and swore that if I ever meddled +or had any dealings with them again (in the sparking +line I mean) I wish I might be hung and choked.</p> + +<p>But swearing off from women, and then going into a +meeting house chock full of gals, all shining and glistening +in their Sunday clothes and clean faces, is like +swearing off from liquor and going into a grog shop. +It's all smoke.</p> + +<p>I held out and kept firm to my oath for three whole +Sundays. Forenoons, a'ternoons and intermissions complete. +On the fourth, there were strong symptoms of +a change of weather. A chap, about my size was +seen on the way to the meeting house, with a new patent +hat on; his head hung by the ears upon a shirt +collar; his cravat had a pudding in it and branched +out in front, into a double bow knot. He carried a +straight back and a stiff neck, as a man ought to, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +he has his best clothes on; and every time he spit, he +sprung his body forward, like a jack-knife, in order to +shoot clear of the ruffles.</p> + +<p>Squire Jones' pew is next but two to mine; and +when I stand up to prayers and take my coat tail under +my arm, and turn my back to the minister, I naturally +look right straight at Sally Jones. Now Sally has got +a face not to be grinned at, in a fog. Indeed, as regards +beauty, some folks think she can pull an even +yoke with Patty Bean. For my part, I think there is +not much boot between them. Any how, they are so +nigh matched that they have hated and despised each +other, like rank poison, ever since they were school-girls.</p> + +<p>Squire Jones had got his evening fire on, and set +himself down to reading the great bible, when he heard +a rap at his door. "Walk in.—Well, John, how der +do? Git out, Pompey."—"Pretty well, I thank ye, Squire, +and how do <i>you</i> do?"—"Why, so as to be crawling—ye +ugly beast, will ye hold yer yop—haul up a chair and +set down, John."</p> + +<p>"How do <i>you</i> do, Mrs. Jones?" "O, middlin', how's +yer marm? Don't forget the mat, there, Mr. Beedle." +This put me in mind that I had been off soundings +several times, in the long muddy lane; and my boots +were in a sweet pickle.</p> + +<p>It was now old Captain Jones' turn, the grandfather. +Being roused from a doze, by the bustle and racket, he +opened both his eyes, at first with wonder and astonishment. +At last he began to halloo so loud that you +might hear him a mile; for he takes it for granted +that every body is just exactly as deaf as he is.</p> + +<p>"Who is it? I say, who in the world is it?" Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +Jones going close to his ear, screamed out, "it's Johnny +Beedle."—"Ho—Johnny Beedle. I remember, he +was one summer at the siege of Boston."—"No, no, +father, bless your heart, that was his grandfather, that's +been dead and gone this twenty year."—"Ho,—But +where does he come from?"—"Daown taown."—"Ho.—And +what does he follow for a livin'?"—And he did +not stop asking questions, after this sort, till all the +particulars of the Beedle family were published and +proclaimed in Mrs. Jones' last screech. He then sunk +back into his doze again.</p> + +<p>The dog stretched himself before one andiron; the +cat squat down before the other. Silence came on by +degrees, like a calm snow storm, till nothing was heard +but a cricket under the hearth, keeping tune with a +sappy yellow birch forestick. Sally sat up prim, as if +she were pinned to the chair-back; her hands crossed +genteelly upon her lap, and her eyes looking straight +into the fire. Mammy Jones tried to straighten herself +too, and laid her hands across in her lap. But they +would not lay still. It was full twenty-four hours since +they had done any work, and they were out of all +patience with keeping Sunday.—Do what she would to +keep them quiet, they would bounce up, now and then, +and go through the motions, in spite of the fourth commandment. +For my part <i>I</i> sat looking very much +like a fool. The more I tried to say something the +more my tongue stuck fast. I put my right leg over +the left and said "hem." Then I changed, and put +the left leg over the right. It was no use; the silence +kept coming on thicker and thicker. The drops of +sweat began to crawl all over me. I got my eye upon +my hat, hanging on a peg, on the road to the door;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +and then I eyed the door. At this moment, the old +Captain, all at once sung out "Johnny Beedle!" It +sounded like a clap of thunder, and I started right up +an eend.</p> + +<p>"Johnny Beedle, you'll never handle sich a drumstick +as your father did, if yer live to the age of Methusaler. +He would toss up his drumstick, and while +it was whirlin' in the air, take off a gill er rum, and +then ketch it as it come down, without losin' a stroke +in the tune. What d'ye think of that, ha? But scull +your chair round, close along side er me, so yer can +hear.—Now, what have you come a'ter?"—"I—a'ter? +O, jest takin' a walk. Pleasant walkin' I guess. I +mean jest to see how ye all do." "Ho.—That's another +lie. You've come a courtin', Johnny Beedle; you're +a'ter our Sal. Say now, d'ye want to marry, or only +to court?"</p> + +<p>This is what I call a choker. Poor Sally made but +one jump and landed in the middle of the kitchen; and +then she skulked in the dark corner, till the old man, +after laughing himself into a whooping cough, was put +to bed.</p> + +<p>Then came apples and cider; and, the ice being +broke, plenty chat with mammy Jones about the minister +and the 'sarmon.' I agreed with her to a nicety, +upon all the points of doctrine; but I had forgot the +text and all the heads of the discourse, but six. Then +she teazed and tormented me to tell who I accounted +the best singer in the gallery, that day. But, mum—there +was no getting that out of me. "Praise to the +face is often disgrace" says I, throwing a sly squint +at Sally.</p> + +<p>At last, Mrs. Jones lighted t'other candle; and after +charging Sally to look well to the fire, she led the way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +to bed, and the Squire gathered up his shoes and stockings +and followed.</p> + +<p>Sally and I were left sitting a good yard apart, honest +measure. For fear of getting tongue-tied again, I +set right in, with a steady stream of talk. I told her +all the particulars about the weather that was past, +and also made some pretty cute guesses at what it was +like to be in future. At first, I gave a hitch up with +my chair at every full stop. Then growing saucy, I +repeated it at every comma, and semicolon; and at +last, it was hitch, hitch, hitch, and I planted myself fast +by the side of her.</p> + +<p>"I swow, Sally, you looked so plaguy handsome to +day, that I wanted to eat you up."—"Pshaw, get along +you," says she. My hand had crept along, somehow, +upon its fingers, and begun to scrape acquaintance with +hers. She sent it home again, with a desperate jerk. +"Try it agin"—no better luck. "Why, Miss Jones +you're gettin' upstropulous, a little old madish, I guess." +"Hands off is fair play, Mr. Beedle."</p> + +<p>It is a good sign to find a girl sulkey. I knew +where the shoe pinched. It was that are Patty Bean +business. So I went to work to persuade her that I +had never had any notion after Patty, and to prove it I +fell to running her down at a great rate. Sally could +not help chiming in with me, and I rather guess Miss +Patty suffered a few. I, now, not only got hold of her +hand without opposition, but managed to slip an arm +round her waist. But there was no satisfying me; so +I must go to poking out my lips after a buss. I guess +I rued it. She fetched me a slap in the face that made +me see stars, and my ears rung like a brass kettle for +a quarter of an hour. I was forced to laugh at the +joke, tho' out of the wrong side of my mouth, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +gave my face something the look of a gridiron. The +battle now began in the regular way. "Ah, Sally, +give me a kiss, and ha' done with it, now."—"I won't, so +there, nor tech to."—"I'll take it, whether or no."—"Do it, +if you dare."—And at it we went, rough and tumble. +An odd destruction of starch now commenced. The +bow of my cravat was squat up in half a shake. At +the next bout, smash went shirt collar, and, at the same +time, some of the head fastenings gave way, and down +came Sally's hair in a flood, like a mill dam broke +loose,—carrying away half a dozen combs. One dig +of Sally's elbow, and my blooming ruffles wilted down +to a dish-cloth. But she had no time to boast. Soon +her neck tackling began to shiver. It parted at the +throat, and, whorah, came a whole school of blue and +white beads, scampering and running races every which +way, about the floor.</p> + +<p>By the Hokey; if Sally Jones is'nt real grit, there's +no snakes. She fought fair, however, I must own, and +neither tried to bite nor scratch; and when she could +fight no longer, for want of breath, she yielded handsomely. +Her arms fell down by her sides, her head +back over her chair, her eyes closed and there lay her +little plump mouth, all in the air. Lord! did ye ever +see a hawk pounce upon a young robin? Or a bumblebee +upon a clover-top?—I say nothing.</p> + +<p>Consarn it, how a buss will crack, of a still frosty +night. Mrs. Jones was about half way between asleep +and awake. "There goes my yeast bottle," says she to +herself—"burst into twenty hundred pieces, and my +bread is all dough agin."</p> + +<p>The upshot of the matter is, I fell in love with Sally +Jones, head over ears. Every Sunday night, rain or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +shine, finds me rapping at 'Squire Jones' door, and +twenty times have I been within a hair's breadth of +popping the question. But now I have made a final resolve; +and if I live till next Sunday night, and I don't +get choked in the trial, Sally Jones will hear thunder.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VENETIAN_MOONLIGHT" id="VENETIAN_MOONLIGHT"></a>VENETIAN MOONLIGHT.</h2> + +<h3>By Frederick Mellen.</h3> + + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The midnight chime had tolled from Marco's towers;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er Adria's wave the trembling echo swept;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gondolieri paused upon their oars,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mutt'ring their prayers as through the still night crept.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far on the wave the knell of time sped on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the sound died upon its tranquil breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea-boy startled as the peal rolled on;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gazed at his star, and turned himself to rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The throbbing heart, that late had said farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still lingering on the wave that bore it home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At that bright hour sigh'd o'er the dying swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thought on years of absence yet to come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">'T was moonlight on Venetia's sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And every fragrant bower and tree<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Smiled in the golden light;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The thousand eyes that clustered there<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ne'er in their life looked half so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i10">As on that happy night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">A thousand sparkling lights were set<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On every dome and minaret;<br /></span> +<span class="i10">While through the marble halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The gush of cooling fountains came,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And crystal lamps sent far their flame<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Upon the high-arched walls.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">But sweeter far on Adria's sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The gondolier's wild minstrelsy<br /></span> +<span class="i10">In accents low began;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While sounding harp and martial zel<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Their music joined, until the swell<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Seemed heaven's broad arch to span.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Then faintly ceasing—one by one,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That plaintive voice sung on alone<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Its wild, heart-soothing lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And then again that moonlight band<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Started, as if by magic wand,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">In one bold burst away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The joyous laugh came on the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And, 'mid the bright o'erhanging trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">The mazy dance went round;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And as in joyous ring they flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The smiling nymphs the wild flowers threw<br /></span> +<span class="i10">That clustered on the ground.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Soft as a summer evening's sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From each o'erhanging balcony<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Low fervent whisperings fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And many a heart upon that night<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On fancy's pinion sped its flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Where holier beings dwell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Each lovely form the eye might see,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The dark-browed maid of Italy<br /></span> +<span class="i10">With love's own sparkling eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The fairy Swiss—all, all that night,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Smiled in the moonbeam's silvery light,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Fair as their native skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moon went down, and o'er that glowing sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With darkness, Silence spread abroad her wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor dash of oars, nor harp's wild minstrelsy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came o'er the waters in that mighty ring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All nature slept—and, save the far-off moan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of ocean surges, Silence reigned alone.</span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BALLOONING" id="BALLOONING"></a>BALLOONING.</h2> + +<h3>By I. McLellan, Jr.</h3> + + +<p>The clear sun of a fine September day, was glittering +on roof and steeple, and the cheerful breeze of early +autumn breathing its harp-like melody over woods and +waters. A vast multitude stood around me, attentively +watching the expanding folds of my balloon, as it +swayed to and fro in the unsteady air. As I prepared +to take my place in its car, I noticed an involuntary +shudder run through the assemblage, and anxious glances +pass from face to face. At length, the process of +inflation was completed, the music sounded, the gun +was discharged, the ropes were loosened, and the beautiful +machine arose in the air, amid the resounding +cheers of thousands. As it ascended, I cast a hasty +look on the sea of upturned heads, and thought I read +one general expression of anxiety, in the faces of the +multitudinous throng, and my heart warmed with the +consciousness, that many kind wishes and secret hopes +were wafted with me on my heavenward flight. But +very soon, mine eye ceased to distinguish features and +forms, and the collected throng became blended in one +confused mass, and the green common itself had dwindled +into a mere garden-plat, and the magnificent old +Elm in its centre to a stunted bush, waving on the +hill-side.</p> + +<p>Upward, upward! my flying car mounted and mounted, +into the yet untraversed highways of the air, swifter +than pinion-borne bird, or canvas-borne vessel, yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +all without sound of revolving wheel, or clatter of thundering +hoof or straining of bellying sail, or rustle of +flapping wing. I felt that I was indeed alone, in the +upper wastes of the liquid element, a solitary voyager +of the sky, careering onward like the spectral "Ship +of the Sea," with no murmur of bubbling billow under +the prow, and no gush of whirling ripple beneath the +keel. But how can my pen describe the sublimity of +the scene above, below and around! At one moment, +my car would plunge into silvery seas of vapor and +rolling billows of mist, through which the dim-seen sun +did but feebly glimmer, like the struggling flame of the +torch cast in the dungeon's gloom. But soon that +shadowy veil dissolved away, and again I would emerge +into the blaze of the golden sun, and the effulgence of +the blue heavens. How then did I covet the painter's +art, to be able to imprint on the eternal canvas, those +gorgeous clouds piled up around me, like hills and +mountains, from whose sides hoary cataracts seemed +to be falling, and foamy streams leaping into the vallies, +that rested in lovely repose at their base. Never +did the dull world below present on its diversified +bosom, such grand or such enchanting objects, as those +beautiful and evanescent creatures of the air, shining +and shifting in the levelled sunbeams around. At +times, my whole horizon would be bounded by those +mountainous regions of cloud-land, cliff lifting over +cliff, pinnacle above pinnacle, Alps above Alps. On +their sides and tops, the reflected light painted all the +hues of the rainbow, in commingled azure and crimson, +purple and gold. In those stupendous masses of +vapor, mine eye, with little aid of fancy, could trace +out resemblances of wild and desolate forests, of sombre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +fir and yew, the lordly oak and the melancholy +pine, whispering in the breeze. Anon, a green, happy +valley, would smile out from some hollow of the +hills, and the white church-spire would peep from the +embosoming grove, and the rustic parsonage, the rural +farm-house, and the village-inn, with its swinging sign, +and the chestnut waiving its twinkling foliage at the +door would appear. Anon, the shifting vapor would +assume the shape of an old baronial fortress, green +with the mosses of centuries, and overspread with the +flexile creeper, the gadding vine, and the glossy ivy, +and wearing many a dull-weather stain, imprinted by +wintry gale and autumnal rain. On its grey towers +would seem to float the broad standard, around which +the knights and vassals had mustered so often, when +the armies thundered beneath the leagured walls, or +its brave folds were displayed in distant lands, on the +tented fields of war.</p> + +<p>Onward, onward! I looked forth, and saw that I +was again wafted along the lower currents of air, and +could easily distinguish the sights and sounds of earth. +I passed over green pastures, where the brindled cattle +and snowy sheep were feeding, and, under a spreading +oak, that towered aloft like a verdant hill, reclined +a young girl, watching her father's flocks, attended by +a pet lamb, cropping the fair flowers at her feet. As +I gazed, I thought of "the fair Una with her milk-white +lamb," and of all the happiness of the shepherd's +life, who, sitting upon the grassy hill-side beneath the +sacred locust, and piping entrancing melodies in praise +of his love, on the mellow oaten reed, is all unmindful +of the cankering care and the poisonous hatred, that +embitter human life. Great was the surprise that agitated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +that lonesome spot, as mine air-borne pageant +fluttered over it, with its silken fold and colored streamer. +The cattle cast upward their wondering eyes, and +galloped away to the forests, and I could long hear the +tinkling bell on the horn of the bull and heifer, sounding +in the inner sanctuary of the wood, where, on a +twisted root or a moss-covered stone, by the brink of +the gushing brook, reclined that grey-beard recluse, +Solitude, and his nun-like sister, Silence, revolving +their lonely meditations.</p> + +<p>Onward, still onward! Beneath me I beheld a solemn +spot, where the linden, the ash, the sycamore, the +cypress, the cedar, the beech, the church-yard yew +and hemlock, were clustered together in one mournful +company. I knew by the stone altars, by the sculptured +urn, the graceful obelisk, the foam-white pyramid, +the funereal cenotaph, the marble mausoleum, which +glimmered amid the groves and bowers, that I looked +upon a sanctuary, consecrated by the living to the repose +of the dead. A sweet sabbath-like calm seemed +to hover about the place, and even the very birds that +were flitting from branch to branch, and the breeze +that was sighing its hollow dirge along the wood-tops, +appeared to know that the spot was holy. As I looked, +I beheld a slow procession winding along this highway +of the departed, and bearing a new tenant to the narrow +house. Some sweet infant, perhaps, was there +cut down in the dewy bloom of its innocence,—some +beautiful bud of beauty severed from its stem, and +torn away from its blossoming mates, in the garden of +youth,—or, haply, some silver-haired sire, gathered +like the shock of corn, fully ripe, into the vast granary +of death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + +<p>As I passed from this interesting spot, I was attracted +by a merry train of riders, whose loud and cheerful +voices resounded along the road, seeming to mock the +sacred silence of the place I had so lately left. As the +gay array of youth and beauty dashed away from my +sight, with foamy bridle and gory spur, I could not but +be reminded of the close juxta-position on earth, of joy +and sorrow, life and death.</p> + +<p>Onward, onward! over winding streams, that glittered +like twisting serpents on the green surface of the +earth, over the broad bay, that rested in smooth and +glassy repose in the arms of the far-extending shore, +and over the dashing billows of the ocean, my route +continued. Birds of the briny sea, whose strong wings +had borne them safely and surely from the frosty atmosphere +that sparkles around the pole, or the ice-cold +waters of some far-away lagoon, now darted around +me with discordant cry and affrighted pinion. In those +hovering flocks I discerned the duck, the goose, the +coot, the loon, the curlew, the green-winged teal, the +dusky duck, the sooty tern, the yellow-winged gadwale, +the golden eye, and the gaudy mallard, proudly vain of +that lovely plumage, whose intense hues rival the glory +of the breaking dawn, the autumnal sunset, or the intermingled +dyes which tinge the stripes of the showery +bow. On an iron-bound promontory, whose jutting +crags waved an eternal strife with the rolling billows, +I saw the thick-scattered cottages of wealth and taste, +seeming no bigger than the nest, which the tropical +bird constructs in the sands of the desert, while around, +on the tumbling expanse of waters, were glancing a +thousand receding and approaching sails, bearing the +riches of the orient or the occident, from shore to shore.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>Downward, downward! A thrill of horror shot +through my veins, as I felt that the rough ocean breeze +had shivered my silken vessel to shreds and tatters, and +that I was falling with the speed of lightning, through +the hollow abyss of the air, into the sea. The jaws of +the fretting ocean, gnashing their white teeth in anger, +seemed to gape open to devour me, and the black +rocks uplifted their jagged spears, to impale my devoted +body! But my time had not yet come. A gentle +tap on the shoulder aroused me from the profound +reverie in which I had been plunged, and I was very +glad to recognize, in the visitor who had broken the +spell, my good friend Durant, who called to invite me +to attend his grand ascension, the following day.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="ODE" id="ODE"></a>ODE,</h2> + +<h3>ON OCCASION OF JUDGE STORY'S EULOGY ON CHIEF JUSTICE MARSHALL +AT THE ODEON.</h3> + +<h3>By Grenville Mellen.</h3> + + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Again—the voice of God!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">How breaks it round!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er consecrated sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With locks unbound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grief in her marble brow appears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bows amid her veil—in tears!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">That mandate from on high—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The clarion call,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That rung through earth and sky<br /></span> +<span class="i6">His rayless fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In accents, "thou shalt die," again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proclaims man's dream of years—how vain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">We veil not in its grave<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ambition's brow—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It is not o'er the brave<br /></span> +<span class="i6">We gather now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But one who reach'd man's loftier fate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Good</i> without fault—and nobly <i>great</i>.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">A sceptre was his own,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Drawn from the sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He fill'd a holier throne<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Than royalty:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sat with deathless Justice crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Truth, like sunlight, flash'd around!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">His <i>life</i> to all the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Proud record bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Man yet might spring to birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With angel power!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">His <i>death</i>, that as the "grass," to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Robes him in glory—and decay!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Oh! well, with spirit bow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Above his bier<br /></span> +<span class="i4">May a broad empire crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With prayer and tear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—His be its requiem—deep and far—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nation's heart his sepulchre!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_BOYS_MOUNTAIN_SONG" id="THE_BOYS_MOUNTAIN_SONG"></a>THE BOY'S MOUNTAIN SONG.</h2> + +<h3>FROM THE GERMAN.</h3> + +<h3>By I. McLellan, Jr.</h3> + + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I am the mountain boy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forth o'er an hundred halls I gaze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here morn his earliest light displays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here linger his declining rays,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am the mountain boy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here is the mountain-source,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the cold water-course—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at sultry noon I dip,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its wave my glowing lip.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am the mountain boy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the awful lightnings glare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flashes on the midnight air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the rocking cliff I kneel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answering back each thunder-peal.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am the mountain boy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the quickly-pealing bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calls to arms in every dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the mustered ranks I stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swinging wide my mountain-brand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sing my mountain-song!</span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_UNCHANGEABLE_JEW" id="THE_UNCHANGEABLE_JEW"></a>THE UNCHANGEABLE JEW.</h2> + +<h3>By John Neal.</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'<i>Who</i> views with equal eye as God of all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hero perish, or a sparrow fall?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Atoms and systems into ruin hurled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now a bubble burst, and now a world?'<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>A great multitude were gathered together: on the +right a huge fortress thundering to the sky—on the left +a scaffold—a white fog—the open sea—and a mighty +ship tumbling to the swell. The flat roofs and gorgeous +balconies were covered with scarlet cloth, and +thronged with women of all ages—their lips writhing +and their eyes flashing. Underneath were a mute +soldiery, with banners that moved not, and spears that +glimmered not—a vast, rich and motionless pageant. +Not a leaf stirred—not a finger was lifted—all eyes +were fixed upon something afar off. The Grave alone +had a voice, and the footstep of approaching Death +grew audible, with the everlasting beat of the Ocean. +The stagnant atmosphere burned with a lustreless, unchangeable +and smouldering warmth. As the impatient +and sluggish breathing of the Destroyer drew near, +with a sound as of Earthquake and Pestilence laboring +afar off, there appeared upon the outermost verge of +the scaffold, near the fortress, a man of a simple and +majestic presence, wearing no symbol of power, no +badge of authority, before whom the multitude gave +way with headlong precipitation, as though but to touch +the hem of his garment were death itself, or something +yet worse than death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>After communicating with those about him in a low +whisper, too low to be understood by others almost +within his reach, one of the soldiers lifted a spear, at +the point of which fluttered a blood-red banner, tufted and +fringed with snow-white feathers, and pointed in silence +toward a large opening, which appeared to command a +view of the whole interior. The stranger drew near, +and grasping one of the bars with a powerful hand, +lifted himself up, and after looking awhile, turned away +with a sick impatient shudder, and wiped his eyes; +and then lifting himself up again, he made a signal to +somebody within, and straightway a large tent-like +awning was quietly withdrawn, so as to reveal the interior +of a court-yard, with cells opening into it—in +the nearest of which sat a princely-looking middle-aged +man, half-buried and apparently half asleep +or lost in thought, in a large, heavy, old-fashioned +chair, with a curiously carved table before him, on +which there lay, side by side with writing materials, a +lamp and a letter evidently unfinished, two or three +illuminated manuscripts, a dagger and a map; a massive +goblet richly chased, the rough gold tinged and +sweltering with the hot blood of the southern grape, a +variety of strange mathematical instruments—a copy +of Zoroaster—and a Hebrew Bible, with clasps of the +costliest workmanship, and a cover of black velvet frosted +with seed pearls—a crushed and trampled coronet—and +a lighted pipe, ornamented with precious stones, +the shaft a twisted serpent and the bowl a burning carbuncle—a +live coal—from the core of which, as out of +the midst of a perpetual, unextinguishable fire, issued +a delicate perfume, filling the whole neighborhood, as +with the smoke of a censer; and leaving the eye to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +make out—by little and little—through the fragrant vapor, +first a pair of embroidered Persian slippers, then a +magnificent robe, flowered all over as with the sunshine +of the sea, and weltering in the changeable light of the +open window, then a prodigious quantity of lustrous +black hair flowing down over the shoulders, from underneath +a crimson velvet cap with a diamond buckle and +clasp, and a tassel of spun gold, strung with sapphire, +ruby, amethyst and pearl—and a pomp of black feathers +overshadowing an ample forehead of surpassing power, +and eyes of untroubled splendor; and then, after a long +while, a heap of black shadow lying coiled up underneath +the table, from the midst of which an occasional +flash, as of a serpent's tongue, or an angry sparkle—as +of a serpent's eye, would appear—and at last the whole +proportions of a superb-looking personage, who had been +trying, hour after hour, with a compressed lip and a +thoughtful determined eye—to snap what appeared to +be a handful of seed pearl, one by one, through the +grated window before him, without touching the bars—hour +after hour—and always in vain! The passage +way was too narrow—the bars too near together.</p> + +<p>Behold! murmured he at last, while the shadow of +another—and yet another stranger, shot along the lighted +floor, as he stole about the room a-tiptoe, and gathering +up the pearls, if pearls they were, that lay in heaps +underneath the window, and flinging aside the magnificent +robe he wore, prepared himself anew and with +more determination than ever, for the work he had +evidently set his heart upon, if not his life, by measuring +the elevation with a steadier eye, and poising every +pearl with a more delicate touch, before he projected it +toward the window. Behold! how the Ancient of Days +delighteth in counteracting the purposes of Man?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> + +<p>The other started back and threw up his arms with +a look of horror and amazement, and all who were +about him began whispering together and shaking their +heads.</p> + +<p>At this moment the slow jarring vibration of a great +bell was heard from the topmost tower—the cannon of +the fortress thundered forth, and were answered, peal +after peal, from the lighted mountains—a volume of +white smoke rolled heavily toward the earth and covered +the people—the sea-fog trembled—parted—and +slowly drifted away in patches and fragments, through +which the blue sky appeared, and the hot sunshine flashed +with an arrowy brightness, while the mighty ship +swung round with her broadside to the shore, and lighted +matches were seen moving about hither and thither, +like wandering meteors, through the damp hazy atmosphere; +and instantly there went up a slow half-smothered +wail from the multitude, with a weight and volume +like the unutterable and growing earnestness of the +Great Deep, when it begins to heave with a pre-appointed +and irresistible change; and all eyes were upturned, +and all arms outstretched with a troubled expression +toward the stranger, who walked forward a few steps +to the verge of the scaffold—and looking about him, +on every side, called out with a loud voice,—Of such +are the Gods of the Unconverted! and of such their +followers!</p> + +<p>The answering roar of the multitude reached the +prisoner, who lifting his head and listening for a moment +with a placid smile, asked what more they would +have?—and whether they were not yet satisfied?—and +then straightway began balancing another of the glittering +seeds and eyeing the window<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>Most pitiable! cried the other, covering his face +with his hands, moving afar off, and appearing to be +entirely overcome by what he saw.</p> + +<p>And why <i>pitiable</i>, I pray thee! shouted the former, +with a voice like a trumpet, lifting his calm forehead +to the sky and gathering his magnificent robe about +him as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Art thou of a truth Adonijah the Jew—the unconverted +Jew?</p> + +<p>Of a truth am I—the unconverted, the <i>unconvertable</i> +Jew; and thou! art thou not he that was my brother +according to the flesh—even Zorobabel, the <i>converted</i> +Jew and the preacher of a new faith?</p> + +<p>Yea; of a new faith to such as thou; but a faith +older than the Hebrew prophets to them that believe, +Adonijah.</p> + +<p>But why <i>pitiable</i> I pray thee?</p> + +<p>How are the mighty fallen! For three whole months +have I journied afoot and alone, by night and by day, +through the deep of the wilderness, and along by the +sea-shore—afoot and alone, my brother!—after hearing +of thy great overthrow—the wreck of thy vast possessions +about me whithersoever I went—thy magnificent +household scattered, thy princes banished from +their high places, and wandering over all the earth and +hiding themselves in the holes of the rocks—with no +city of refuge in their path—even thy youngest and +fairest a bondwoman, toiling for that which sustaineth +not; and thy own fast-approaching death, a theme with +every people and kindred and tongue—and not a theme +of sorrow! And all this, O my brother and my prince! +only that I might be near thee in thy unutterable bereavement +and humiliation, only that I might look upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +thee once more alive, and see thee unchangeable as +ever, though stripped of power and trampled under the +hoofs of the multitude—only that I might reason with +thee, face to face, before a great people, who, after +watching and worshipping thee for many years, have +come up together as with one heart, to see thee—<i>thee!</i> +their idol and their benefactor—perish upon a scaffold, +as only the fool or the scoffer perisheth!—to cry out +upon thee as the unconquerable Jew, that having once +abjured the faith of his fathers and gone back to it anew, +cannot be reached but by the law, nor purified but +with fire!</p> + +<p>Say on.</p> + +<p>Alas, my brother! Alas that it should fall upon me to +afflict thy proud spirit with reproaches at a time like +this! But there is no other hope. Awake, therefore! +awake! and gird up thy loins like a man. I will demand +of thee, saith the Lord of Hosts, and thou shalt +answer me, even as my servant Job answered me of +yore. Awake, therefore, and stand up, that I may +reason with thee for the last time touching the faith of +our mighty fathers, the consolations of philosophy, and +the splendor and power of earthly Wisdom—of Death +and Judgment—while thou art on thy way to the grave +in the fulness of thy strength and majesty; and <i>not</i> +with the clangor of trumpets, the neigh of steeds, the +flow of drapery, and the uproar of battle!—No!—not +as the High Priest, or the champion of a lofty and venerable +faith, standing up like a pillar of fire in a cloudy +sky, and pointing to Jerusalem as to the great gathering +place of buried nations, about to reappear, with all eyes +fixed upon thee and all hearts heaving with exultation! +To thy grave, my brother! and not as a martyr! but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +as a wretch abandoned of all the earth—a twofold +apostate!—a rebel and a traitor! Hark! hearest thou +not a faint stirring afar off, along the shore of that multitude—a +living wilderness of threatening eyes and +parched lips—and ah! another moan from that huge, +heavy, disheartening bell, which never stops till the +sacrifice of a fiery death is over, and the object of its +boding prophecy gone to the world of spirits.</p> + +<p>But the prisoner heeded not his adjuration—he never +lifted his eyes, and the same quiet smile rested forever +upon his countenance; and he still gathered up the +pearls and continued aiming them at the window.</p> + +<p>Awake, Adonijah! awake, I say! Thy pearls are +counted to thee. Thy pulses are about to stand still +forever—thy proud heart to stop forever! A moment, +and the headsman will be here—already do I see him +afar off, stealing with a noiseless movement along the +skirts of the affrighted people, like smouldering fire +through the blackness of a thunder-cloud. Awake, +thou <span class="smcap">man</span> of sorrow and acquainted with grief, awake +that I may pray with thee!</p> + +<p>With me!</p> + +<p>Yea, my brother—even with thee.</p> + +<p>And wherefore shouldst thou pray with me? and +wherefore should I pray?</p> + +<p>Wherefore! Have I not heard thee, purified by that +old peculiar faith, charge even thy Creator, the Ancient +of Days, the Lord God of Heaven and Earth, <i>Jehovah!</i> +with diverting thy pearls from their appointed path!</p> + +<p>True, and therefore why should I pray? Of what +avail these prayers with the <i>unchangeable</i> God? Can +aught that we do, or fail to do, disturb the everlasting +tranquillity of our Creator—change his purpose—or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +in any way move to pleasure or displeasure the Lord +God of Heaven and Earth? With him before whom +all things are alike, with whom there is neither great +nor small—what he hath determined to do, that will +he not do? whether we importune him or not with +prayer? Go to, my poor brother! go to! will not the +Judge of all the Earth do right? and if he will not—how +are we to help ourselves?</p> + +<p>Unhappy man! Though he <i>were</i> unchangeable; +and though supplications were of no avail, why should +the children of men, the creatures of his bounty withhold +their <i>thanksgiving</i>?</p> + +<p>That would I never withhold, for that I could offer +up any where—at all times and under all circumstances, +without dishonoring him, our <span class="smcap">Creator</span> and our +Father, or his image, and without contradicting our +ancient faith. But why wrestle in prayer with him, +for that which, if it be proper for us, we shall be sure to +have, as we have the dew and the sunshine, the seed-time +and the harvest.—The very hairs of our head, are +they not numbered? Are not five sparrows sold for +two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before +God!</p> + +<p>Yea my brother! But what saith the same scripture? +Ye are of more value than many sparrows.</p> + +<p>True—true—I had forgotten a part of my lesson.</p> + +<p>Believest thou, O my brother, <i>canst</i> thou believe +then, that in His eyes, all the cherubim and seraphim +are equal and alike? that He is, of a truth, no respecter +of persons among the Hierarchy of heaven?</p> + +<p>But wherefore pray to Him that knoweth all our +wants, before they are uttered or felt? to Him that +feedeth the young raven—laying his hand reverentially<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +upon the Great Book before him, and lifting his forehead +to the sky, as if he could see through it.</p> + +<p><i>Wherefore?</i> Because we have been urged to pray—entreated +to pray—commanded to pray. Because +every thing desirable hath been promised to prayer.</p> + +<p>Not in the Hebrew scriptures, however it may be +with the Greek. To thanksgiving and submission, there +may be vouchsafed a continual to favor; but to importunity, +as urged upon you in your scripture, my poor +brother, <i>nothing</i>.</p> + +<p>Lo! the headsman touches the foot of the scaffold! +Wilt thou not pray with me, oh Adonijah! my brother +and my prince!</p> + +<p>No! my brother that <i>was</i>—no! The Lion of Judah +hath not yet learned to lick the uplifted hand of mortal +man. Get thee behind me Zorobabel, <i>my brother</i>! +Go thy way, and leave me to my trust in the God of +our fathers. Why should I pray with thee—with thee! +an apostate from the sepulchre of kings and prophets—I +that never have prayed but with the princes, and the +Judges and the High-Priest of our people? Get thee +gone, my brother! It is not for such as I to tempt the +Lord of Hosts, or to persuade the Ancient of Days. +Do not thou tempt me.</p> + +<p>Stay, brother—stay! Did not Jacob wrestle in +prayer with the angel of the Lord, all the night long?</p> + +<p>With the angel of the Lord?—yea—But never with +the Lord himself, as thou wouldst have me. And saying +this, he gathered up his robe and shook it, and +turned away from his brother sorrowing.</p> + +<p>Man! thou art beside thyself—much learning hath +made thee mad—cried his brother, reaching forth his +arms to Adonijah. The whole Hebrew scriptures are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +against thee—what are they all but a Book of prayer +and supplication? Prophets and Bards and Kings and +Judges, yea, even the High Priesthood, are against +thee! Why shouldst thou pray, thou unconquerable +Hebrew?—why!—that thy proud heart may be made +human—that thy understanding may be enlightened—that +thou mayst be made to know and believe that there +is another and a better Scripture. Pray to thy Father, +which is in Heaven, as thou wouldst that thy children +should pray to thee, even for that which thou hast already +determined to grant them—oh, pray to Him! that +He may see the disposition of thy heart, as thou wouldst +see theirs. What though thou art mindful of their +wants, and well acquainted with their hearts and purposes, +and always ready to gratify them, is it not a +condition with thee—even with <i>thee</i>, Adonijah, that +they should acknowledge their dependence upon thee, +and their utter helplessness of themselves? And why +should it not be so with our Heavenly Father? with +Him whose angels are about thee and above thee, a +perpetual atmosphere of warmth and light. Ha! the +multitude are breaking up!—they are coming this way! +I hear the tramp of horsemen—a moment more and +we are apart forever. A flash!—The Philistines are +upon thee, O my brother!</p> + +<p>That brother looked up and smiled.</p> + +<p>Wilt thou not pray with me?</p> + +<p>No—once for all—no! Never with a converted +Jew—never with a christian!—never with thee, thou +but half a christian!</p> + +<p>Farewell then!—farewell forever.</p> + +<p>Another flash! attended with a loud burst of thunder +among the hills.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nay, let us part in peace, my brother, although I +cannot pray with thee, I can for thee! The God of +our Fathers! of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, have thee +in his holy keeping!</p> + +<p>The stranger threw up his arms in a transport of joy. +The unconverted, the <i>unconvertable</i> Jew had prayed +for him with the temper of a christian; and straightway +he fell upon his knees and called upon the God of +the Hebrews, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, +to spare the Jew and change his heart.</p> + +<p>The huge gate swung open. The drawbridge fell—a +fierce angry light broke forth suddenly from underneath +the scaffold—a black banner floated all at once +from the battlements over the passage-way—a troop +of horsemen, with flashing spears and iron helmets, +wheeled slowly into the court-yard, and drew up in dead +silence along the outer barrier. The headsman appeared. +A signal was made from a far window, and +lo! the coronet and the robe, with all the glittering insignia +of departed power and extinguished glory, were +torn away, and trampled under foot by the hoofs of the +multitude. A white smoke rolled forth from below, +and when it cleared away, the Jew appeared standing +bareheaded between two gigantic mutes, one of whom +bore a naked cimetar, while the other stood watching +his countenance. It continued unaltered—unalterable—nor +would he vouchsafe the slightest token of +submission or terror, though the flames roared, and the +white smoke rolled thitherward like the white sea-fog +before a coming storm; but haughtily, steadfastly, and +with a majestic mildness which awed the very soldiery +more than all the pomp they were accustomed to, he +pointed to the multitude, lowering about him with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +tempestuous blackness—to the pyre with its covering +of blood-red cloth dripping with recent moisture—to +the flames roaring far below among the dry faggots, +and signified a wish to proceed.</p> + +<p>Once more shouted a voice from the barrier—My +brother! oh my brother! wilt thou not be prevailed +upon, if not for thine own sake, for the sake of thy beloved +wife and thy youngest born—about to perish with +thee—even with thee, my brother, in their marvellous +beauty and most abundant strength.</p> + +<p>Away!—and let me die in peace!</p> + +<p>Another step thou unconquerable man! But another +step—thou apostate Jew!—and thou art in the +world of spirits! Wilt thou not say? <i>canst</i> thou not, +with lowliness and fervor, Our Father which art in +Heaven! thy will and not mine be done!</p> + +<p>Yea, brother—if that will comfort thee in thy desolation. +Yea! Yea! with all the hoarded and concentrated +fervor of a long life accustomed to no other language, +even while I took upon me the outer garb of a +christian—Yea!—and saying this, he fell upon his +knees, and cried out with a loud voice, while a triumphant +brightness overspread his uplifted countenance +with a visible exaltation, Our Father and our Judge! +I do not pray to thee as the God of the christians +did, that this cup may be spared to me; for I have put +my whole hope and trust in thee, and am satisfied with +whatsoever I may receive at thy hands! But I would +bless thee, I would praise thee, I would magnify thy +great name, oh God of my Fathers, for all that I have +enjoyed or suffered, for all that I have had or wanted +in this life; yea, for all the afflictions and sorrows and +terrors that have beset my path, and that of my beloved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +wife and my dear children—children of the tribe of +Judah and of the house of Jacob!—Yea, for the overthrow +of all my proud hopes and prouder wishes, when +I forsook thee and almost abjured the faith of my Fathers +for dominion sake. Forgive my apostate brother, +I beseech thee, O Lord! as thou hast forgiven me: +and bless the heritage of thy people, and encourage +them as the followers of the new faith are encouraged +by their Jesus of Nazareth, to forgive their enemies, +even though their enemies take the shape of a beloved +friend or brother—to betray them—giving up their +birth-right, like Esau for a mess of pottage.</p> + +<p>A great commotion appeared on the house-tops, extending +itself slowly far and wide.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, continued the Jew—nevertheless! oh +Father and Judge, God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob! +thy will and not mine be done!</p> + +<p>The multitude began to surge this way and that, +with exceeding violence. A cry of indignation arose +from every side. A tumult followed—a general rush—the +house-tops were suddenly deserted—the sea shore—and +some began shouting, Away with him! away with +him! and others, Let the blaspheming Jew perish without +hope! and others, Crucify him! crucify him!</p> + +<p>But in the midst of the uproar, one clear solitary cry +was heard afar off, repeating a prayer to the God of +the Hebrews—another cloud of white smoke rolled +over the battlements—the flames appeared half way up +the sky—a trumpet sounded underneath the very scaffold—the +ancient war-cry of the Jews, <i>To your tents, +O Israel!</i> rung far and wide along the outer barrier—up +sprang a multitude of small white banners, like affrighted +birds, from the midst of the people—and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +next moment, before they had recovered from their unspeakable +consternation, the heavy horsemen charged +upon them in a body, the great ship swung round with +all her voices thundering together, and swept their pathway +as with a whirlwind of fire, while they hurried +hither and thither, crying To arms! to arms! The +Jews! the Jews! and pointing toward the bridge, only +to find the bridge itself destroyed and the opposite +shore in possession of that other converted Jew—the +stranger!—all in glittering steel arrayed, and carrying +a banner on which the Lion of Judah was ramping in a +field of carnage!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>And when the Jew Adonijah, now more a Jew than +ever, and more fully satisfied than ever, with the sublime, +and awful, and unchangeable faith of his old +Hebrew Fathers, came fully to himself, and the tumult +was all over, he found three out of his four children +of the house of Jacob, standing near him in their robes +of state—another, and a stranger, harnessed for the +war, his black eyes yet gleaming with the half-extinguished +fire of battle, standing at the door of the chamber.</p> + +<p>And why wouldst thou not pray for us, father? said +one of the two that were standing by the bed-side.</p> + +<p>Because ye were sick unto death; and I held it sinful +to ask for that which had been refused to King +David himself—I, that had forsaken the Lord God of +my fathers—How could I hope that he would not forsake +me!</p> + +<p>But the christian prayed for us, Father, and the +prayers of the christian were heard!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>With what face could they, <i>being christians</i>, pray +for the children of men that put their Savior to death? +How could they, <i>being christians</i>, forget their scripture, +which saith—<i>suffer little children to come unto me, and +forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of heaven!</i></p> + +<p>And as he spoke, the great doors were thrown open, +and the armed man flung down his helmet, and walked +forward with a solemn and haughty step leading a +beautiful woman captive, and a young child.</p> + +<p>A shriek!—a tumult!—and straightway all were +kneeling together! And not one of that family of Jacob—that +remnant of the tribe of Judah—not one was +missing. They were determined to live and die in their +old august unchangeable faith, even as all their progenitors +had lived and died—enduring all things—suffering +all things—trials and sorrows and temptations—age +after age—and never betraying their faith, never!</p> + +<p>But the unconquerable Jew acknowledged to himself, +and to his brother, even there, as they fell upon his +neck and wept, the <i>possibility</i> of prayer being heard, +the <i>possibility</i> that the unchangeable God might be +reached by supplication—and the <i>possibility</i> that even +a philosopher and a Jew might be mistaken.</p> + +<p>But—</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="A_WAR-SONG_OF_THE_REVOLUTION" id="A_WAR-SONG_OF_THE_REVOLUTION"></a>A WAR-SONG OF THE REVOLUTION.</h2> + +<h3>By John Neal.</h3> + + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men of the North! look up!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's a tumult in your sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A troubled glory surging out;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Great shadows hurrying by:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your strength—Where is it now?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your quivers—Are they spent?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your arrows in the rust of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your fathers' bows unbent?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men of the North! Awake!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye're called to from the Deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trumpets in every breeze—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet there ye lie asleep:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A stir in every tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A shout from every wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A challenging on every side;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A moan from every grave:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A battle in the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ships thundering through the air—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jehovah on the march—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Men of the North, to prayer!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, now—in all your strength;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's that before your way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above, about you, and below,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like armies in array:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lift up your eyes, and see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The changes overhead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now hold your breath! and hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mustering of the dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See how the midnight air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With bright commotion burns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thronging with giant shape,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Banner and spear by turns—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sea-fog driving in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Solemnly and swift;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Moon afraid—stars dropping out—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The very skies adrift:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Everlasting <span class="smcap">God</span>:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our Father—Lord of Love—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With cherubim and seraphim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All gathering above—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their stormy plumage lighted up<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As forth to war they go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow of the Universe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon our haughty foe!</span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MUSINGS_ON_MUSIC" id="MUSINGS_ON_MUSIC"></a>MUSINGS ON MUSIC.</h2> + +<h3>By James F. Otis.</h3> + +<div class="center">And while I was musing, the fire burned.—<i>Holy Writ.</i></div> +<div class="bigskip"></div> + +<div class="center">THE ORIGIN OF MUSIC.</div> + +<p>Music is the wondrous breathing of God's spirit in our +souls. As we view the "floor of heaven, thickly inlaid +with patines of pure gold," we feel that</p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's not the smallest orb which we behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, in its motion, like an angel sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still quiring to the young eyed cherubim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We feel it in the constitution of the air, which causes +vibration—in the formation of man, possessed of the +wonderful faculties enabling him to sing, to distinguish +musical sounds, and to feel within his whole frame the +effects of music. Man, indeed, is himself a wonderful +musical instrument, made by the hand of God. He +hears all nature hymning adoration and praises to its +Maker—he feels the constant vibration of universal +harmony around him—he is conscious that the emotions +of gratitude he feels toward the Creator should be +expressed, and that in the highest strains which the +human mind can conceive, and the human voice can +reach. Thus he calls in to his aid all those auxiliaries +which nature and art afford, to supply him with associations +tending to elevate the standard of his grateful +expressions. Music is a sacred, a religious, a <i>holy</i> +thing. Applied to common purposes, it is pleasing and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +worthy of cultivation—but still it has a higher character +when used for its original and more worthy purpose. +The effect it produces in the former instance +is to raise our <i>mirth</i>:—when used in its higher character, +its effect is to produce <i>rapture</i>. It soothes when +thus employed, as of old it did when David banished +the evil spirit from the soul of Saul by the vibrations of +his sweet-toned harp; it improves—as all good influences +and pure associations ever must, when permitted +their due action upon the mind; and it elevates the +spirit toward the eternal source whence all its harmony +flows. As it peals upon the ear, and sinks inly upon +the heart of him whose mind is bent upon the +thoughts of holy things—upon his creation, his present +blessings and future hopes, he seems to hear</p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That undisturbed song of pure content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye sung around the sapphire-colored throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him that sits thereon—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the bright seraphim, in burning row,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their loud, uplifted angel trumpets blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the cherubic hosts, in thousand choirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touch their celestial harps of golden wires.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<div class="center">HANDEL AND HAYDN. THE MESSIAH AND THE CREATION, +A PARABLE.</div> + +<p>Handel, with all his comparative simplicity, is my favorite. +I cannot but look up to him with astonishment +and veneration; his "Messiah," I behold as the purest +specimen of sublimity ever displayed in the arts: and +I can conceive of nothing in poetry with any pretension +to be considered its parallel, but the "Paradise +Lost" of Milton. The "Hallelujah Chorus" may +be esteemed the loftiest work of the imagination. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +leading conception is entirely inimitable. The full +chorus of other masters is often bold and elevated; but +it is only Handel who has the sublime of devotion. +Haydn is triumphant and inspiring; but the effect of +his chorus is only that of martial music. In listening +to Haydn, you seem to hear the shouts of conquerors, +proudly entering a vanquished city: in listening to +Handel, the shouts seem to break from the clouds; +from the triumphant host admitted to the presence of +God; and the object of praise gives a character of holiness +and purity to the harmony. With Haydn, +we exult, we reason not why. With Handel, we +can never for a moment forget that we are praising +God. The rapid movements and quick transitions of +Haydn draw the fullest admiration to the orchestra, +and the subject is forgotten. The lighter passages in +Handel are only the varied note of praise, expanding +only in proportion to the inspiration which the object +kindles. In one word,—every thing in Haydn is seen +to be accomplished; and every delineation, if I may +thus employ the word, is felt to be a resemblance. +But in Handel, let what will be described or exhibited,—a +battle,—a victory,—the trembling of the earth,—the +tottering of a wall,—the moan of sympathy,—the +insults and crucifixion of a Savior,—the awful stillness +of death,—or, on the other hand, the triumph of the +resurrection,—the birth of the Prince of Peace,—or +hosannas to the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords,—every +thing seems to be done at the command of God +himself.</p> + +<p>But I conceive it is not difficult to reconcile an admiration +of both these great masters, in as much as +their music presents such a variety only as every art<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +admits. Claude Loraine was no rival of Raphael—yet +we stand with one before a landscape, and with +the other at the foot of the cross, with like, if not +equal astonishment and admiration. The recitatives +of Haydn are, with scarcely a single exception, less +bold, but better finished,—less abrupt, and better calculated +for the scope of the voice, than those of +Handel; and are supported by a harmony more graceful, +though not more striking and natural. Haydn, at +all times, threw the fascination of melody over his +richest modulations, and the whole effect of his harmony +resulted from conspiring airs, each of which was +melodious by itself. While, on the other hand, the +separate parts in Handel were like single pillars from +a temple, or single stones from a pyramid. If, in +Handel, appear the beauty of consistency,—in Haydn +we admire the consistency of beauty. If Handel's +choruses and harmony might be compared, both in +their formation and beauty, to mountains of ice, illuminated +by the sun,—Haydn's harmony would seem +to resemble the most splendid crystalizations—under +the same illumination, in which one form of beauty +has gradually encircled another, until the shape and +beauty of the minutest part has become imparted to +the larger proportions, and more commanding figure +of the whole mass. It is impossible indeed, to find +any thing in music,—placing his choruses out of view,—which +can rival the sublime recitative of Handel,—"For +behold darkness shall cover the earth,—but the +Lord shall arise!"—Yet the opening of Haydn's "Creation," +may deserve to be ranked second only to this, +and as surpassing every other attempt of its author, in +sublimity, and deep, solemn grandeur. The fall of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +the angels, in the first part of the same noble oratorio, +is a wonderful effort, and presents the most remarkable +instance in all Haydn's compositions, of the characteristic +excellence which has just been ascribed to him, +namely, his uniform regard to his melody, even where +he designed to produce the boldest effect in his harmony. +It is the most graphic musical description ever +attempted; and it must have been produced in one of +those moments of lofty enthusiasm in which a conception +of surpassing grandeur flashes upon the mind, is +grasped and embodied in an instant, and a man pauses +in exultation and astonishment at what he has himself +accomplished. This passage, however,—if it had no +other excellence,—could never be forgotten, as it +gives the most striking effect to the inimitable contrast +which succeeds,—where the first impression of the +beauty of the world at the moment of the creation is +described with such tenderness and grace, that the +most vulgar minds, as well as those whose taste has +been in some degree refined, have felt every note, as +it came from the forms of living things, exulting +in their existence—or as if the author had borrowed +the lyre of the morning stars, that sang the glories of +the "new created world."—The celebrated chorus, +"The Heavens are telling the glory of God," is unquestionably +the boldest conception of Haydn. Its +harmony has the most astonishing richness and variety, +and the leading air is almost unexceptionably beautiful. +Yet it may be called a chorus in theory only; for it +requires the fullest choir of the finest voices and most +refined tastes,—and no community of any country can +furnish a hundred and fifty singers, capable of performing +it, even with a tolerable degree of spirit, judgment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +and correctness. By this remark I mean merely, that +the original conception of the author, and that with +which every one who feels its true beauty and force is +filled, upon studying, or hearing it,—can never be fully +realized and carried out, and filled up, by the finest +combination of human powers.</p> + +<p>There have not been wanting writers upon the beautiful +in music, who have denounced what they are pleased +to call attempts at picturesque, in the "Creation" +of Haydn. Their arguments proceed upon the trifling +nature of the results produced by imitations, as unworthy +the dignity of an art so refined. The feelings +awakened by the gradual developement of the work of +creation in this immortal work are certainly far superior +in their nature to those imputed by such writers to +the admirers of what they call depictive music;—and +I cannot believe that these objectors can have listened +to the oratorio they criticise, either with the physical +or rational ear. Had they, we should have heard +nothing like an imputation of an unsuccessful imitation +of trifling originals. They would have seen no other +use of the musical picturesque than perfectly consists +with true descriptiveness of the subject celebrated. +The Creation is a grand panorama; its object was to +impress the hearer with the realities it commemorates. +Its author was engaged two whole years upon it, and +gave as a reason for his absorption in the task, that he +meant it to last a great while. He has composed a +work which addresses itself to the mind in such a manner, +as to call up to the eye the landscape, as well as +to the ear the sounds, and to the conception the animation +and motion of the scenes described. Surely a +beautiful thought, a fine description, an impassioned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +sentiment, impressed upon the mind and memory by a +strong association with almost all the senses at once, +are more likely to become inseparably entwined among +the very fibres of the heart, than a cold, abstract description +of the same subject, without the intervention +of such associations. I should pity the man who could +utter such a criticism, while listening to the performance, +or even reading the score of this most splendid +oratorio. From the commencement,—conveying the +idea of primeval chaos,—through the gradual gathering +of the earth and sea, and the things which each +contains, into their several places,—the budding and +blooming of the thousand flowers,—the cooing of the +tender doves,—the trampling of the heavy beasts,—the +flowing of the gentle rills,—the rolling of the +mountain waves,—the bursting of light at the Creator's +word,—angels praising God,—the noble work of man's +creation,—the achievement of the whole,—up to the +last grand and glorious chorus,—all is sublimity—all +is divine! and the whole soul of the auditor is wrapt in +sacred awe, as he follows the beneficent hand of his +Maker in its wonderful work, and is lost in rapture and +adoration, amid the blaze of glory by which he finds +himself surrounded at the close.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<div class="center">SOME THOUGHTS ON OPERATIVE MUSIC.</div> + +<p>There are those who institute a comparison between +music and poetry, and much to the prejudice of the +former. They argue that the intellect has nothing to +do with music, and that it is ridiculous and absurd in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +those who speak no Italian, to pretend to derive any +satisfaction from listening, for two hours, to music in a +language they cannot understand—affecting, at the +same time, to comprehend the sense to be conveyed, +by the sounds they drink in with such assumed rapture. +I conceive this to be far from just reasoning. Doubtless +there is a great deal of affectation in the fashionable +world upon the subject of music in general, and of +the opera in particular; but we have no right to judge +our neighbor's taste by our own—perhaps, after all, it +may turn out that our own is defective or false. I am +inclined to argue that the intellect has as much to do +with music as with poetry.</p> + +<p>In judging of pieces adapted to music, we should be +lenient on the subject of the thoughts, if the design and +story have variety enough to afford a basis for a corresponding +variety of musical ideas. The most common +expression of any passion may be tolerated, when +the music, <i>not</i> the poetry, is to form the embellishment. +Who cares for the story—the plot—in listening to the +Italian opera? Nay, more—are not the finest and +most beautiful pieces of that class of music, vulgar and +weak as poetical compositions? Is not the musical composer +the genius of the piece? While the poet utters +some such trash as 'I shall support myself by feasting +on your beautiful eyes,' the composer so varies the +expression of his music, that, in truth, the thought +becomes refined, just as it would if the poet had undertaken +to present it in a variety of views. To say, +therefore, that the repetitions in music are nonsense, is +just to profess a deplorable ignorance of the science. +The words convey a sentiment which the musician +undertakes to increase—to soften—to embellish, through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +a series of fine ideas, of which those who have neither +musical taste nor ear have not the least conception.</p> + +<p>Nor should it be supposed that, in the opera—in the +fine pieces of Metastasio, for instance—the poetry is +disgraced by being but the handmaid of music, and +that the former is therefore reduced unduly in the scale +of comparative merit. This is not the case with him +who is an equal admirer of the two arts. Such as +these will admit that it is but in a very small degree +that music is designed to please a sense. They will +insist that its design is to excite emotions that poetry, +to the same extent, cannot awaken. What speech in +the whole Iliad rouses more exulting courage than the +'Marsellois Hymn?' The music of 'Pleyel's German +Hymn' not only of itself produces an effect to awaken +a feeling of grief, but no words that I have ever read +are capable of producing that feeling in an equal degree. +Take for example, the lamentation of David for +the loss of Absalom—and if that passage, and others +like it, are enough to melt or break the heart, there is +a kind of music, of which 'Pleyel's Hymn' is an +example, that will affect it more deeply yet.</p> + +<p>Words, considered as auxiliary to music, merely +show the subject on which the emotion rests, but have +nothing to do with the emotion itself; <i>that</i> is produced +by music alone—and long before any words are known +to an air, the emotion will have been produced. We +shall have imagined the subject—and when we come +to know the words, we shall discover one of three +things: first, that the subject is what we imagined—secondly, +that it is something analogous to our perception—or, +thirdly, if neither of the two former, that the +words and air are ill-adapted to each other. Indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +what do we mean by saying, 'these words are adapted +to the air,' if the air have no character of its own? +And what is its character but its peculiar power of +awakening certain emotions? Admitting that it is +better that fine poetry and fine harmony should be +united, when possible—and that this union, of course, +produces additional delight to a refined mind,—it still +seems to me very absurd to condemn the pieces which +are constructed upon ideas conveyed in poetry of an +inferior class, <i>merely because such is the character of +the poetry</i>. Music is the governor of the heart, and all +she asks of Poetry is a subject,—and then, delightful +magician! it is her province to call up, by her sweet +spell, the corresponding emotions!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SIN_ESTIMATED_BY_THE_LIGHT_OF_HEAVEN" id="SIN_ESTIMATED_BY_THE_LIGHT_OF_HEAVEN"></a>SIN ESTIMATED BY THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN.</h2> + +<h3>By Edward Payson.</h3> + +<div class="center"><i>Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.</i></div> + + +<p>It is a well known fact that the appearance of objects, +and the ideas which we form of them, are very much +affected by the situation in which they are placed with +respect to us, and by the light in which they are seen. +Objects seen at a distance, for example, appear much +smaller than they really are. The same object, viewed +through different mediums, will often exhibit very different +appearances. A lighted candle, or a star, appears +bright during the absence of the sun; but when +that luminary returns, their brightness is eclipsed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +Since the appearance of objects, and the ideas which +we form of them, are thus affected by extraneous circumstances, +it follows, that no two persons will form +precisely the same ideas of any object, unless they +view it in the same light, or are placed with respect to +it in the same situation.</p> + +<p>These remarks have a direct and important bearing +upon our subject. No person can read the scriptures +candidly and attentively, without perceiving that God +and men differ, very widely, in the opinion which they +entertain respecting almost every object. And in nothing +do they differ more widely, than in the estimate +they form of man's moral character, and of the malignity +and desert of sin. Nothing can be more evident +than the fact, that, in the sight of God, our sins are +incomparably more numerous, aggravated and criminal, +than they appear to us. He regards us as deserving +of an endless punishment, while we scarcely perceive +that we deserve any punishment at all. Now whence +arises this difference? The remarks which have just +been made will inform us. God and men view objects +through a very different medium, and are placed, with +respect to them, in a very different situation. God is +present with every object; he views it as near and +therefore sees its real magnitude. But many objects, +especially those of a religious nature, are seen by us +at a distance, and, of course, appear to us smaller than +they really are. God sees every object in a perfectly +clear light; but we see most objects dimly and indistinctly. +In fine, God sees all objects just as they are; +but we see them through a deceitful medium, which +ignorance, prejudice and self-love place between them +and us.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Psalmist, addressing God, says, thou hast set +our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light of +thy countenance, that is, our iniquities or open transgressions, +and our secret sins, the sins of our hearts, +are placed, as it were, full before God's face, immediately +under his eye; and he sees them in the pure, +clear, all-disclosing light of his own holiness and glory. +Now if we would see our sins as they appear to him, +that is, as they really are; if we would see their number, +blackness and criminality, and the malignity and +desert of every sin, we must place ourselves, as nearly +as is possible, in his situation, and look at sin, as it +were, through his eyes. We must place ourselves and +our sins in the centre of that circle, which is irradiated +by the light of his countenance; where all his infinite +perfections are clearly displayed, where his awful +majesty is seen, where his concentrated glories blaze, +and burn, and dazzle, with insufferable brightness; and +in order to this, we must, in thought, leave our dark +and sinful world, where God is unseen and almost forgotten, +and where, consequently, the evil of sinning +against him cannot be fully perceived—and mount up +to heaven, the peculiar habitation of his holiness and +glory.</p> + +<p>Let us, then, attempt this adventurous flight. Let +us follow the path by which our blessed Savior ascended +to heaven, and soar upward to the great capital of +the universe; to the palace and the throne of its greater +King. As we rise, the earth fades away from our +view; now we leave worlds, and suns, and systems +behind us. Now we reach the utmost limits of creation; +now the last star disappears, and no ray of created +light is seen. But a new light begins to dawn and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +brighten upon us. It is the light of heaven, which +pours a flood of glory from its wide-open gates, spreading +continual, meridian day, far and wide through the +regions of ethereal space. Passing swiftly onward +through this flood of day, the songs of heaven begin to +burst upon your ears, and voices of celestial sweetness, +yet loud as the sound of many waters and of mighty +thunderings, are heard exclaiming, Hallelujah! for the +Lord God omnipotent reigneth! Blessing, and glory, +and honor, and power, be unto Him that sitteth on the +throne, and to the Lamb, forever. A moment more, +and you have passed the gates—you are in the midst +of the city—you are before the eternal throne—you +are in the immediate presence of God, and all his glories +are blazing around you like a consuming fire. Flesh +and blood cannot support it; your bodies dissolve into +their original dust; but your immortal souls remain, +and stand naked spirits before the great Father of spirits. +Nor, in losing their tenements of clay, have they lost +their powers of perception. No; they are now all eye, +all ear; nor can you close the eyelids of the soul, to +shut out, for a moment, the dazzling, overpowering +splendors which surround you, and which appear like +light condensed; like glory which may be felt. You +see indeed no form or shape; and yet your whole souls +perceive with intuitive clearness and certainty, the immediate, +awe-inspiring presence of Jehovah. You see +no countenance; and yet you feel as if a countenance +of awful majesty, in which all the perfections of divinity +are shown forth, were beaming upon you wherever +you turn. You see no eye; and yet a piercing, heart-searching +eye, an eye of omniscient purity, every +glance of which goes through your souls like a flash of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +lightning, seems to look upon you from every point of +surrounding space. You feel as if enveloped in an +atmosphere, or plunged in an ocean of existence, intelligence, +perfection and glory; an ocean of which +your laboring minds can take in only a drop; an ocean, +the depth of which you cannot fathom, and the breadth +of which you can never fully explore. But while you +feel utterly unable to comprehend this infinite Being, +your views of him, so far as they extend, are perfectly +clear and distinct. You have the most vivid perceptions, +the most deeply graven impressions, of an infinite, +eternal, spotless mind; in which the image of all +things, past, present and to come, are most harmoniously +seen, arranged in the most perfect order, and +defined with the nicest accuracy; of a mind, which +wills with infinite ease, but whose volitions are attended +by a power omnipotent and irresistible, and which +sows worlds, suns and systems through the fields of +space with far more facility, than the husbandman +scatters his seed upon the earth; of a mind, whence +have flowed all the streams, which ever watered any +part of the universe with life, intelligence, holiness, or +happiness, and which is still fully overflowing and inexhaustible. +You perceive also, with equal clearness +and certainty, that this infinite, eternal, omnipotent, +omniscient, all-wise, all-creating mind is perfectly and +essentially holy, a pure flame of holiness; and that, as +such, he regards sin with unutterable, irreconcilable +detestation and abhorrence. With a voice, which reverberates +through the wide expanse of his dominions, +you hear him saying, as the Sovereign and Legislator +of the universe, Be ye holy; for I, the Lord your God, +am holy. And you see his throne surrounded, you see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +heaven filled by those only, who perfectly obey this +command. You see thousands of thousands, and ten +thousand times ten thousand of angels and archangels, +pure, exalted, glorious intelligences, who reflect his perfect +image, burn like flames of fire with zeal for his +glory, and seem to be so many concentrations of wisdom, +knowledge, holiness and love; a fit retinue for +the thrice holy Lord of hosts, whose holiness and all-filling +glory they unceasingly proclaim.</p> + +<p>And now, if you are willing to see your sins in their +true colors; if you would rightly estimate their number, +magnitude and criminality, bring them into this +hallowed place, where nothing is seen but the whiteness +of unsullied purity, and the splendors of uncreated +glory; where the sun itself would appear a dark spot, +and there, in the midst of this circle of seraphic intelligences, +with the infinite God pouring all the light of +his countenance around you, review your lives, contemplate +your offences, and see how they appear.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_WAY_OF_THE_SOUL" id="THE_WAY_OF_THE_SOUL"></a>THE WAY OF THE SOUL.</h2> + +<h3>By L. S. P.</h3> + + +<p>There is a homely proverb which tells us that "the +longest way round is the shortest way home." Whether +the mathematical demonstration of so paradoxical an +assertion would be easy or difficult I shall not undertake +to decide. My concern is with its application to +the spiritual; and with such a reference, are there not +many in these hurrying days who would be benefited +by a serious attention to it?</p> + +<p>Do you doubt its truth? Reflect, and you will be +convinced. Have you never groped darkly after a +principle, of which you had some dim revelation, and +which you strove with mightiest working to make your +own? Still as you seemed about to seize it, it eluded +your grasp; you were sure that it was there; but to +lay hold of it was beyond your strength. You gave up +the effort, turned your thoughts to a new channel, +and busied yourself with other investigations—when lo! +a revelation; and the truth you sought, burst upon +you as a ray from the eternal splendor.</p> + +<p>Or, perchance, you have been all the day perplexed +and wearied with doubts, relating, it may be, to some +point of practical moment to you, and seeming to demand +a solution, which yet you are unable to give. +You would fain come to an end, but you cannot even +see an opening; only here and there an uncertain +glimmer, which vanishes when you approach it more +nearly. Your soul is faint and harassed; you go forth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +at sunset to commune with nature, and in her communion +to forget your perplexities. You gaze on the calm +glories of the departing sun, and the calm enters into +your soul; the cooling breath of heaven comes to you, +and you listen to the many voices, "the melodies of +woods and winds and waters," that go up in one harmony +to heaven. You behold, and listen, and love;—and +with love comes light. Yes, a light, so pure, so +soft, so mild, that it seems not of earth rests upon your +soul, and your darkness, and doubts, and perplexity +are gone.</p> + +<p>Oh, never let it be forgotten that the road to truth is +a winding road; it lies through the heart as well as +through the intellect; for, says the wise man, "Into a +malicious soul, wisdom shall not enter." Thou must +learn to love, before thou canst learn to know; and +never shalt thou behold the serene and beautiful countenance +of Truth, until thy aim be honest, and thy soul +in harmony with nature.</p> + +<p>And are not <i>Nature's</i> paths circuitous? It is man +who has constructed the broad high road, and made +for himself a straight way through forests and streams, +levelling the mountains, and filling up the valleys—but +it is not thus in nature. Her paths are wild, and +devious, and rambling; following "the river's course, +the valley's playful windings," and ever and anon +turning aside to some sunny nook, or steep ravine. The +rain which falls upon the earth travels not by a plain +high road to the springs and fountains whither it is +bound; but gently, slowly wins its way, drop by drop, +till a little stream is formed, and the stream winds its +noiseless and hidden track to the fountain.</p> + +<p>In her <i>processes</i> too, Nature is patient and long-waiting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +She doth not say to the seed just planted in the +earth, spring up and bear fruit forthwith, or you shall +be cast out, but she waiteth for the unfolding of the +tender germ, and the striking of the new-shooting roots; +and hath long patience, and with slowliest care, and a +mother's enduring love, she bringeth forth to light the +first green leaf. Then she calleth for the sun to shine, +and the dews to descend upon the young plant, and +many days doth she wait for the ripe fruit.</p> + +<p>But man, impatient man would be wise in a day. +He waits not for the holy and mysterious processes of nature, +he leaves not the wonderful powers within him to +unfold in silence and secrecy, but must ever disturb +them with his foolish meddling and impertinent haste, +like some silly child, who digs up the seed he has planted +an hour ago, to see if it have yet sprouted. And +are there not some who deal in like fashion with other +minds than their own? <i>Educators</i> let them not be +called, for never do they bring out what is within. The +young mind is not to them a germ to be unfolded, an +infant to be nursed into manhood, but rather a receptacle +to be filled, and stuffed, and crammed as expeditiously +as possible; and this, thanks to the numerous +machines lately invented for the purpose, is very quick +indeed.</p> + +<p>There have been times when you seemed to make +no progress in your favorite pursuit. You struggled +without advancing as we sometimes do in dreams, or +though you stepped up and down, it was as in a treadmill. +So it seemed to you. But was it so? Nay, +the process was going on within, though its visible +manifestations may have ceased. If no addition was +made to the superstructure, yet the foundations were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +deepening and widening; if the branches and leaves +did not grow, yet the root strengthened itself in the +earth.</p> + +<p>But not only so—you seemed to be going backward. +Even the ground slipped from under your feet, and +where you had heretofore a firm standing-place, you +found but a swamp. And have you never considered +that Nature too sometimes works backwards? See +that withered leaf which flutters in the breeze, maintaining +yet an uncertain hold upon the branch which +nurtured its younger growth. A fresh gust of wind +loosens its hold, and it is blown in circling eddies to the +earth. There it rests till the elements of decay in its +bosom have finished their work, and it mixes with the +dust. "What is this? Can a mother forget her child? +Does Nature destroy her own productions?" Ah, look +again. In that fresh-blooming flower, dyed with tints +of infinite softness, behold the withered leaf. Nature +was as really working to the production of that flower +when she decomposed the elements of the leaf, as +when she unfolded the germ, and elaborated the juices, +and blended the tints of the flower itself. It was but a +glorified resurrection. And your spiritual growth is +going on as truly and steadily, if not as visibly and +delightfully, when you cast aside the slough of some +old prejudice, or painfully tear yourself from a cherished +delusion as when the dawning of a new truth +flashes light and joy upon your soul.</p> + +<p>For what Coleridge has said of nations, is equally +true of individuals. "The progress of the species +neither is nor can be, like that of a Roman road, in a +right line. It may be more justly compared to that of +a river, which, both in its smaller reaches and larger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +turnings, is frequently forced back towards its fountains, +by objects which cannot otherwise be eluded or +overcome; yet with an accompanying impulse that +will ensure its advancement hereafter, it is either gaining +strength every hour or conquering in secret some +difficulty, by a labor that contributes as effectually to +further its course, as when it moves forward in an +uninterrupted line."</p> + +<p>I might go on to illustrate the application of this +truth to self-knowledge, but it is one easily made, by +each for himself. Its bearing upon our moral growth +must not be so lightly passed over.</p> + +<p>You have learned that you have a spirit which <i>may</i> +be, <i>must</i> be trained for immortality and heaven. You +have found too that there are difficulties in the way of +this training. There is a constant under-current of selfishness +ready to insinuate itself into all you do; there +is contempt for your inferiors in birth or cultivation, +ever offering to start up, and there is a spirit of resentment +against those who have injured you ready to take +fire on the least provocation. What is to be done with +these? You do not forget that to Him, whose "still, +small voice" can speak with authority to the spirits He +has made, must be your first appeal; but neither do +you forget that his help is vouchsafed to those only +who help themselves. And how will you help yourself? +Will you in the plenitude of your might, and the resoluteness +of kindled energy, <i>will</i> the extinction of those +unruly passions? Try it; exert the volition; <i>will</i> to +stop the flowing tide of revenge in your breast, and to +cause love and forgiveness to spring up in its place. +Well, have you done it? But what means that glowing +cheek—that flashing eye—that compressed brow? Is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +such the expression of <i>love</i>? Nay brother, you have +mistaken the way. Not the straight path of direct +volition will ever lead you to your object.</p> + +<p>But come forth with me into the field. Here are +"sweet, strange flowers," to glad thy heart with their +innocent beauty, and delight thee with their fragrance; +here is the broad and blessed "sky bending over" thee, +and the quiet lake at thy feet.</p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The air is spread with beauty; and the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is musical with sounds that rise and die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till scarce the ear can catch them; then they swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then send from far a low, sweet, sad farewell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And who art thou that bringest discord and rough, +angry passions into a scene like this? Ah, thou bringest +not discord, it has stolen from thy heart; thou art +at peace. For it is not a poetic fiction when we are +told that a wayward spirit, is subdued by nature's +loveliness and <i>lovingness</i>.</p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Till he can no more endure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be a jarring and a dissonant thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst this general dance and minstrelsy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, bursting into tears, wins back his way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His angry spirit healed and harmonized,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the benignant touch of love and beauty."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We asked, perchance, that our hearts might be lifted +above the earth, and taught to repose with a surer love, +and a more child-like trustfulness on the Father of +Spirits. And did we know that our prayer was answered +when the light of our eyes was torn from us; +when our souls were rent with bitter agony, and lay +crushed and bowed beneath the stroke of <i>His</i> hand? +Yes, it was answered; we know it now, though we +knew it not then. The weary bird never reposes so +sweetly in its nest, as when it hath been battered by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +the tempest and chased by the vulture; never doth the +little child rest so lovingly and rejoicingly on its mother's +breast, as when it hath there found a shelter from +the injuries and taunts of its rude play-fellows; and +the christian never knows the full sweetness of the +words, "My Father in Heaven," till he can also add, +"there is none that I desire beside Thee."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FRAGMENTS_OF_AN_ADDRESS_ON_MUSIC" id="FRAGMENTS_OF_AN_ADDRESS_ON_MUSIC"></a>FRAGMENTS OF AN ADDRESS ON MUSIC.</h2> + +<h3>By Edward Payson.</h3> + + +<p>Without resorting to the hyperbolical expressions of +poetry, or to the dreams and fables of pagan mythology, +to the wonders said to be performed by the lyre of +Amphion and the harp of Orpheus,—I might place before +you the prophet of Jehovah, composing his ruffled +spirits by the soothing influence of music, that he might +be suitably prepared to receive a message from the +Lord of Hosts. I might present to your view the evil +spirit, by which jealous and melancholy Saul was afflicted, +flying, baffled and defeated, from the animating +and harmonious tones of David's harp. I might show +you the same David, the defender and avenger of his +flock, the champion and bulwark of his country, the +conqueror of Goliah, the greatest warrior and monarch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +of his age, laying down the sword and the sceptre to +take up his harp, and exchanging the titles of victor +and king for the more honorable title of the sweet +Psalmist of Israel.—But I appear not before you as her +advocate; for in that character my exertions would be +superfluous. She is present to speak for herself, and +assert her own claims to our notice and approbation. +You have heard her voice in the performances of this +evening; and those of you, whom the God of nature +has favored with a capacity of feeling and understanding +her eloquent language, will, I trust, acknowledge +that she has pleaded her own cause with triumphant +success; has given sensible demonstration, that she +can speak, not only to the ear, but to the heart; and +that she possesses irresistible power to soothe, delight, +and fascinate the soul. Nor was it to the senses alone +that she spake; but while, in harmonious sounds, she +maintained her claims, and asserted her powers; in a +still and small but convincing voice, she addressed herself +directly to reason and conscience, proclaiming the +most solemn and important truths; truths which perhaps +some of you did not hear or regard, but which +deserve and demand our most serious attention.—With +the same irresistible evidence as if an angel had spoken +from heaven, she said, There is a God—and that +God is good and benevolent. For, my friends, who +but God could have tuned the human voice, and given +harmony to sounds? Who, but a good and benevolent +God, would have given us senses capable of perceiving +and enjoying this harmony? Who, but such a +being, would have opened a way through the ear, for +its passage to the soul? Could blind chance have +produced these wonders of wisdom? or a malignant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +being these miracles of goodness? Could they have +caused this admirable fitness between harmony of +sounds, and the organs of sense by which it is perceived? +No. They would have either given us no +senses, or left them imperfect, or rendered every sound +discordant and harsh. With the utmost propriety, therefore +may Jehovah ask, Who hath made man's mouth, +and planted the ear? Have not I, the Lord? With the +utmost justice, also, may he demand of us, that all our +musical powers and faculties should be consecrated to +his service, and employed in celebrating his praises. +To urge you diligently and cheerfully to perform this +pleasing, reasonable, and indispensable duty, is the +principal object of the speaker. Not, then, as the advocate +of music, but as the ambassador of that God, +whose being and benevolence, music proclaims, do I +now address this assembly, entreating every individual, +without delay, to adopt and practise the resolution of +the royal Psalmist—<i>I will sing unto the Lord as long +as I live; I will sing praise to my God while I have +my being.</i> Psa. civ. 33.</p> + +<p>In your imagination go back to the origin of the +world, when, every thing was very good, and all creation +harmonized together. All its parts, animate and +inanimate, like the voices and instruments of a well +regulated concert, helped to compose a perfect and +beautiful whole; and so exquisite was the harmony +thus produced, that in the whole compass of creation, +not one jarring or discordant note was heard, even by +the perfect ear of God himself.—The blessed angels +of light began the universal chorus, "when the morning +stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted +for joy."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Of this universal concert, man was appointed the +terrestrial leader, and was furnished with natural and +moral powers, admirably fitted for this blessed and +glorious employment. His body, exempt from dissolution, +disease, and decay, was like a perfect and well-strung +instrument, which never gave forth a false or +uncertain sound, but always answered, with exact precision, +the wishes of his nobler part, the soul. His +heart did not then belie his tongue, when he sung the +praises of his Creator; but all the emotions felt by the +one were expressed by the other, from the high notes +of ecstatic admiration, thankfulness, and joy, down to +the deep tones of the most profound veneration and +humility. In a word, his heart was the throne of celestial +love and harmony, and his tongue at once the +organ of their will, and the sceptre of their power.</p> + +<p>We are told, in ancient story, of a statue, formed +with such wonderful art, that, whenever it was visited +by the rays of the rising sun, it gave forth, in honor of +that luminary, the most melodious and ravishing sounds. +In like manner, man was originally so constituted, by +skill divine, that, whenever he contemplated the rays +of wisdom, power, and goodness, emanating from the +great Sun of the moral system, the ardent emotions of +his soul spontaneously burst forth in the most pure and +exalted strains of adoration and praise. Such was the +world, such was man, at the creation. Even in the +eye of the Creator, all was good; for, wherever he +turned, he saw only his own image, and heard nothing +but his own praises. Love beamed from every countenance; +harmony reigned in every breast, and flowed +mellifluous from every tongue; and the grand chorus +of praise, begun by raptured seraphs round the throne,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +and heard from heaven to earth, was reechoed back +from earth to heaven; and this blissful sound, loud as +the archangel's trump, and sweet as the melody of his +golden harp, rapidly spread, and was received from +world to world, and floated, in gently-undulating waves, +even to the farthest bounds of creation.</p> + +<p>To this primeval harmony, a lamentable contrast +followed, when sin untuned the tongues of angels, and +changed their blissful songs of praise into the groans +of wretchedness, the execrations of malignity, the blasphemies +of impiety, and the ravings of despair. Storms +and tempests, earthquakes and convulsions, fire from +above, and deluges from beneath, which destroyed +the order of the natural world, proved that its baleful +influence had reached our earth, and afforded a faint +emblem of the jars and disorders which sin had introduced +into the moral system. Man's corporeal part, +that lyre of a thousand strings, tuned by the finger of +God himself, destined to last as long as the soul, and +to be her instrument in offering up eternal praise, was, +at one blow, shattered, unstrung, and almost irreparably +ruined. His soul, all whose powers and faculties, +like the chords of an Æolian harp, once harmoniously +vibrated to every breath of the divine Spirit, and ever +returned a sympathizing sound to the tones of kindness +and love from a fellow-being, now became silent, +and insensible to melody, or produced only the jarring +and discordant notes of envy, malice, hatred, and revenge. +The mouth, filled with cursing and bitterness, +was set against the heavens; the tongue was inflamed +with the fire of hell. Every voice, instead of uniting +in the song of "Glory to God in the highest," was +now at variance with the voices around it, and, in barbarous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +and dissonant strains, sung praise to itself, or +was employed in muttering sullen murmurs against the +Most High—in venting slanders against fellow-creatures—in +celebrating and deifying some worthless idol, +or in singing the triumphs of intemperance, dissipation, +and excess. The noise of violence and cruelty was +heard mingled with the boasting of the oppressor, and +the cry of the oppressed, and the complaints of the +wretched; while the shouts of embattled hosts, the +crash of arms, the brazen clangor of trumpets, the +shrieks of the wounded, the groans of the dying, and +all the horrid din of war, together with the wailings of +those whom it had rendered widows and orphans, overwhelmed +and drowned every sound of benevolence, +praise and love. Such is the jargon which sin has introduced—such +the discord which, from every quarter +of our globe, has long ascended up into the ears of the +Lord of hosts.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_BLUSH" id="THE_BLUSH"></a>THE BLUSH.</h2> + +<h3>By Mrs. Elizabeth Smith.</h3> + + +<p>The soft warm air scarcely stirred the leaves of the +vine, that clustered about the bower of Eve, as she +lay with pale cheek and languid limbs, her first born +daughter resting upon her breast. Adam had led his +sons to the field, that their sports might not disturb the +repose of our first mother, and the low murmur of the +tiny cascade, the monotonous hum of insects, and +happy twitter of unfledged birds, all wooed her to slumber; +yet she slept not. She looked with a mother's +deep unutterable love upon the face of her babe, yet +tears were in her eye, and anxiety upon her brow. +Herself the last, the perfection of the Creator's workmanship, +she still marvelled at the surprising beauty of +her daughter. She looked into its dark liquid eye, and +drank deep from the fountain of maternal love. She +pressed its small foot and hand to her lips, hugged it +to her full heart, and felt again the bitterness of transgression. +She thought of Paradise, whence she had +expelled her children. She thought of generations to +come, who might curse her for their misery. She +thought of the sweet beauty of her child on whom she +had entailed sorrow, suffering and temptation. She +felt it murmuring at the fountain of life while it stretched +its little hand to her lips. She turned aside the +thick leaves of the grape vine, and looked out upon the +still blue sky, over which, scarcely moved the white +thin clouds. "My daughter," she faintly articulated,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +"thou knowest not the evil I have done thee. Let +these bitter tears attest my penitence. Let me teach +thee so to live, that thou mayst hereafter obtain in +another world the Paradise thou hast lost in this—lost +by thy mother's guilt. O, my daughter, would that I +alone might suffer, that the whole wrath of my offended +Creator might fall on my head and thou, and such +as thou, might escape." The tears, the penitence of +Eve prevailed; a Heavenly messenger was despatched +to console her, to lift her thoughts to better hopes and +less gloomy anticipations.—Since the sin of our first +parents, and their banishment from Paradise, these +angel visits had been "few and far between," and our +first mother hailed his approach with awe and pleasure. +"Eve," kindly spake the divine visitant, "thy sorrow +and thy penitence are all known to thy Creator, and +though thy fault was great, he yet careth for thee. I +am sent to comfort thee. As thou didst disobey the +commands of God, death has been brought, indeed, +upon thy posterity, but thy children may not curse +thee. Thy daughters shall imitate thy penitence, and +so secure the favor of Heaven. To each one shall +be given a spirit, capable of resisting temptation, and +assimilating to that holiness from which thou hast departed. +Though sin and death have entered the world +by thy means, thy children will still have only their +own sins to answer for, and may not justly reproach +thee for their errors." "True, Lord," responded Eve, +"but the altered sky, the hard earth that scarcely yields +its treasures to the labor of Adam, and the changed +natures of the animals that once meekly and kindly +sported together, all tell of my disobedience, and my +daughter will turn her eyes upon me when suffering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +and trial come, and that look will reproach me as the +cause. I am told that our children shall equal in number +the leaves of the green wood, and the earth shall +hereafter be peopled with beings like ourselves. I +shrink to think on the mass of sorrow I have brought +upon my daughters."</p> + +<p>She looked fondly on her babe, and timidly raised +it towards the beneficent being who paused at her +bower. "When men shall become numerous, and +there shall be many beings like these, fair and frail, +may not their beauty—" She paused and looked +anxiously up. "Speak, Eve," said the messenger, "thy +request shall be granted. I am sent to bestow upon +thee whatever thou shalt ask, for this thy first born +daughter." "I scarcely know," resumed Eve, thus encouraged, +"but I would ask for this first daughter of an +erring mother, <i>something</i>, to warn her of even the +approach of sin, something, that will whisper caution, +and speak of innocence and purity. Something, Lord, +that will remind us of Paradise." "Hast thou not all +that, Eve, in the voice within, the voice of conscience?" +Eve dropped her head upon her bosom. "But that +monitor may be disregarded, my daughters may, like +their unhappy parent, stifle its voice and heedlessly +neglect its warnings. I would have something, that +when flattery would mislead, beauty bewilder, or passion +lead astray, would outwardly as it were bid them +take heed, warn them to shrink from the very trail of +the serpent whose insidious poison may corrupt and +destroy. Hast thou nothing that will be to the innocent, +the virtuous, like a second conscience, to cause them +to shrink even from the <i>appearance</i> of evil?" The +angel smiled, and answered our mother with kindness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +and a look of heavenly satisfaction. "Most wisely +hast thou petitioned, O Eve. Thou hast asked blessings +for thy posterity, not for thyself. Thy daughters shall +bless thee for the gift thy prayer has obtained." The +spirit departed. The gift he bestowed may be seen on +the face of the maiden when she shrinks from the too +admiring gaze, when her ear is listening to the tale of +love, or flattery, when in the solitude of her own +thoughts she starts at her own imaginings, when she +shrinks even from her own reflected loveliness in the +secrecy of home; or abroad, trembles at the intrusive +touch, or familiar language, of him who <i>should be</i> her +guide, her protector from evil. That gift was the +<i>blush</i>.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_WIDOWED_BRIDE" id="THE_WIDOWED_BRIDE"></a>THE WIDOWED BRIDE.</h2> + +<h3>By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.</h3> + + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Morn awoke in Hindostan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blushing, left the couch of Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While soon her rosy smiles began,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To flood the dewy earth with light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While yet the sultry day was young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came forth a happy bridal band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sunny smiles and English tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which spoke them of a distant land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They gathered round an altar-stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Erected to the one Most High,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Standing in solitude alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mid signs of dark idolatry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then two came slowly from the crowd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He</i> with a bearing bold and proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A haughty smile and flashing eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Darkling with love's intensity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she, the high-born English bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew closer to that one dear side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyelids drooped, her cheek grew pale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As snow, beneath the bridal veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the weight of her own bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were all too much of happiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thrill her heart and light her eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath another's scrutiny.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On crimson cushions dropped with gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The youthful pair together bow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before that priest in surplice-fold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They clasp their trembling fingers now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A prayer is heard—the oath is said—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gentle creature lifts her head—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice has thrilled into her heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like music breathed to it apart,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lie there an abiding spell,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">To haunt forever memory's cell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mingle with her latest breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And light the very wing of death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her vow was uttered timidly—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With half a murmur, half a sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the low faltering sound confessed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love that brooded in her breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The golden ring is on her hand—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She is pronounced a wedded bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh say, why does she lingering stand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So long that altar-stone beside?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whence the misty tears that dim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sunny azure of her eye?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why leans her slender form on him?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why does she sob so bitterly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well may she weep, that fair young bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For up the Ganges' golden tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mid jungles deep, where beasts of prey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pestilence hold deadly sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the wild waters fiercest sweep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And serpents in their venom sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath each dewy leaf and flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gentle bride must build her bower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the cool shadow of the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With snowy streamers floating wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the light dipping of the oar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The budgerow swept o'er the tide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soft breeze ling'ring at her prow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where many a garland graceful hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hues of purple, gold and snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on the rippling waters flung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An odor sweet and delicate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As that which all imprisoned lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unknown to man as his own fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the flowers of Paradise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Beneath an awning's silken shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the light breeze its music made,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">With woven fringe and silken cord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sat the young bride with her brave lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hand in his was ling'ring still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And every throb of his full heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Met her young pulses with a thrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sent the blood up with a start,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that round cheek but late so pale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blanched beneath the bridal veil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tear still trembled in her eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like dews that in the violet lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But breaking through its lovely sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brightness of her soul was seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like light within the amethyst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which told how truly she was blest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though as she met his ardent gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the veined petal of a flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyelids drooped, as from the blaze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of some loved, high, but dreaded power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As bound by some subduing spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In beauty at his side she bowed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bridal robe around her fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like fragments of a summer cloud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loosened veil had backward swept,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And deeply in her glossy hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like light, the orange blossoms slept,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if they sought new beauty there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pearls lay softly on her neck,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like hailstones melting over snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save when the blood, that dyed her cheek.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Diffused abroad its rosy glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And playing on her bosom-swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With every heart-pulse rose or fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up went the sun; his burning rays<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Broke o'er the stream like sparkling fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the broad Ganges seemed a-blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With gorgeous light, save where the spire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some lone slender minaret,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Threw its clear shadow on the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or grove-like banian firmly set,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Broke with its boughs the fiery gleam;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where a white pagoda shone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like snow-drift through the shadowy trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or ancient mosque stood out alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the wild creeper sought the breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where some dark and gloomy rock<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shot o'er the deep its ragged cliffs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inhabited by many a flock<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of vultures, and its yawning rifts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alive with lizards, glowing, bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if a prism's changing light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the gloomy depths were flung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where like rich jewels newly strung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sleeping serpent stretched its length,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nursed its venom into strength.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Where the broad stream in shadow lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bridal barque kept on her way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While every breeze that swept them o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought loads of incense from the shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where each luxuriant jungle lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wilderness of tangled flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And budding vines in wanton play<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fell from the trees in leafy showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flinging their graceful garlands o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rippling stream and reedy shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lily bared its snowy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swayed its full anthers like a crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And softly from its pearly swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shower of golden powder fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the humbler flowers that lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blushed their fragrant lives away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There oleanders lightly wreathed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their blossoms in a coronal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rich baubool softly breathed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A perfume from its golden bell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There flower and shrub and spicy tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed struggling for sweet mastery;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a bird with gorgeous plume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fluttered along the flowery gloom,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or on the spicy branches lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uttering a sleepy roundelay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While insects rushing out like gems,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or showery sparks at random flung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through ripening fruit and slender stems<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There to the breathing blossoms clung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Studded the glowing boughs and threw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the broad bank a brilliant hue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">On—on they went; a fanning breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came sighing through the balmy trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And undulating o'er the stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose tiny wavelets, like the gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of molten gold, and crested all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a bright trembling coronal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like that which Brahmins in their dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lavish upon the sacred stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then all grew still. The sultry air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay stagnant in the jungles there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun poured down his fervent heat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The river lay a burnished sheet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The floweret closed its withered bell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the parched leaf the insect fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The panting birds all tuneless clung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the still boughs, where late they sung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dying blossoms felt the calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the still air was thick with balm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All things grew faint in that hot noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Nature's self lay in a swoon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And she, that gentle, loving fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How brooks her form the sultry air?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most patiently—but see her now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What fear convulses her pale brow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why that half-averted eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watching his look so anxiously?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scarlet burning in his cheek—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those lips all parched and motionless?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! do they fell disease bespeak?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or only simple weariness?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">One look! the dreadful certainty<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wrings from her heart a stifled cry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now half phrensied with despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She rends the blossoms from her hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leaping to the vessel's side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She drenched them in the sluggish tide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then to the cushions where he lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Senseless and fevered with disease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Panting his very life away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She rushed, and sinking to her knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raised softly up his throbbing head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pillowed it upon her breast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then on his burning forehead laid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dripping flowers, and wildly pressed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pallid mouth upon his brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drew him closer to her heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if she thought each trembling throe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could unto his, new life impart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wildly to his she laid her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And backward threw her loosened hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That not a glossy curl might break<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From off his face the sluggish air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noon swept by, and there was she<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Counting his pulses as they rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Striving with broken melody<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hush him to a short repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bathing his brow and twining still<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her fingers in his burning hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart's blood stopping with a chill<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whene'er he could not understand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor answer to her gentle clasp;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But dashed that little hand away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or crushed it with delirious grasp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Entreating tenderly her stay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father of heaven! and must he die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She breathed in her heart's agony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As up with every painful breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came to his lips the foam of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er his swollen forehead played,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like serpents by the sun betrayed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The corded veins whose purple swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his hot pulses rose and fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Those drops upon his temple there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rolling eye, the gloomy hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The livid lip, the drooping chin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the death-rattle deep within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That speechless one, so late thy pride—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lies thy answer, widowed bride!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Half conscious of her misery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like something chiselled o'er a grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She placed her small hand anxiously<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the lifeless heart, and gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One cry—but one—of such despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The jackall startled from his lair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And answered back that fearful knell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a long, sharp and hungry yell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A slow and solemn hour swept by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And there, all still and motionless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With rigid limb and stony eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The widow knelt in her distress.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pitying looks the swarthy crew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the tearless mourner drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trembling strove to force away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her chill arms the senseless clay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slowly she raised her awful head;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A slight convulsion stirr'd her face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close to her heart she snatched the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And held him in a strong embrace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then drawing o'er his brow her veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She turned her face as strangely wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if a fiend had mocked her wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Parted her marble lips and smiled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twice she essayed to speak, and then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her face drooped o'er the corpse again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While forth from the disshevelled hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A husky whisper stirred the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Nay, bury him not here,' it said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'I would have prayers above my dead;'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, one by one, the timid crew,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the infected barge withdrew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Helmsmen and servants, all were gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wife was with her dead alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With no propelling arm to guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The barque turned slowly with the tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the heavy current swept<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its slow, funereal pathway back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the expiring sunbeams slept,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like gold along its morning track.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day threw out its dying gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imbuing with its tints the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the mighty river rolled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er beds of ruby—sands of gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As if some seraph just had hung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the blue west his coronet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The timid moon came out and flung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her pearly smiles about—then set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if she feared the stars would dim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silvery brightness of her rim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in the blue and deepening skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars sprang out, like glowing eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the stream reflected lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like ingots down the watery way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And softly streamed the starry light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down to the wet and gloomy trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where fiery flies were flashing bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Afloat upon the evening breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or like some fairy, tiny lamp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glow'd out among the stirring leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down among the rushes damp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Pestilence her vapor weaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till shrub and reed, and slender stems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed drooping with a shower of gems.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Widow raised her head once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Turned her still look upon the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lighted stream and broken shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, God! it was a mockery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—The bridegroom—Death—upon her breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For aye possessing and possessed!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the deep calmness of despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mourner raised his marble head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the silken cushions there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With icy hands, composed the dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then tore her veil off for a shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her voiceless mourning bowed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That holy sorrow might have awed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The very wind—but mockingly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It flung his matted hair abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As trifling with her agony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a low and moaning wail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bore on its wings the bridal veil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then came a cold and starry ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on his marble forehead lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father of heaven! she could not brook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That floating hair, that rigid look.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one quick gasp she forward sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the helm in frenzy clung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the barque shot on its way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where a dense shadow darkest lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, as shrouded with a pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The barge swept to the very shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fell hyena's fiendish call<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rang wildly to her ear once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the deep dark solitude<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She saw the hungry jackall creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whimper for his nightly food,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where many a monster lay asleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just in the margin of the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As resting from a feast of blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the corpse the widow flung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her snowy arms, and madly clung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that cold bosom, whence a chill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shot through her heart, and frantic still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes in horror turned to seek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That prowling beast, whose hungry jaws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worked fiercely and began to reek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With eager foam, as with his paws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He tore the turf impatiently,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And howling snuffed the passing clay.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was not that she feared to die;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the deep stillness of her heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her spirit prayed most fervently<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There with the dead to hold its part.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only boon she cared to crave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was for them both a christian grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! the agonizing thought!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in her madness she had brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That loved and lost one, for a feast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To vulture and to prowling beast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all things fierce and wild had come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To howl a horrid requiem.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But soon a stronger current bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The freight of death from off the shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again the trembling starlight broke<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above the still and changing clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with its pearly kisses woke<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The widow from her trance, who lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Convulsed and shivering with dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her white arms clinging to the dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For yet the stilly night wind bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild beasts' disappointed roar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the far o'erhanging wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A bulbul listening to her heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poured forth upon the air a flood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of gushing love;—with lips apart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The widow clasped her trembling hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bent her ear to catch the strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if a seraph's low commands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were breathed into her soul;—again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heavenly sound came gushing out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like waters in their leaping shout;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over her heart's deep frozen spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle strain went lingering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And touched each icy tear that slept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sudden life, until she wept.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again the lovely morn awoke<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon that temple still and lone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its rosy bloom in gladness broke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to the holy altar-stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came down subduedly and dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through painted glass, o'er sculptured limb:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outstretched within that gorgeous gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shaded by pall and sable plume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As chisseled from the very stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Bridegroom lay. A broken moan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose up from where the Widow bowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her forehead buried in the pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fingers grasping still the shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And every limb betraying all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The agony that wrung her heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was a sad and fearful sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lifted head, those lips apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When through the dim and purplish light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those who obeyed the bridal call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now gathered for the funeral;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soft and solemn strain awoke<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The silence of that lofty dome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the fretted arches broke<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The music surging to its home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then with a firm and heavy tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bearers slowly raised the dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She followed close, her trembling hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still clenched upon the gloomy pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In snowy robes and pearly band,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As at her wedding festival;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her bright disshevelled hair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A broken orange-blossom lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withered and all entangled there;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fit relic of her bridal day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus onward to the tomb she passed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her white robe swaying to the blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mingling at each stirring breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There with the drapery of death.</span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JACK_DOWNINGS_VISIT_TO_PORTLAND" id="JACK_DOWNINGS_VISIT_TO_PORTLAND"></a>JACK DOWNING'S VISIT TO PORTLAND.</h2> + +<h3>By Seba Smith.</h3> + + +<p>In the fall of the year 1829 I took it into my head I'd +go to Portland. I had heard a good deal about Portland, +what a fine place it was, and how the folks got +rich there proper fast; and that fall there was a couple +of new papers come up to Downingville from there, +called the Portland Courier and Family Reader; and +they told a good many queer kind of things about Portland +and one thing another; and all at once it popped +into my head, and I up and told father, and says I, I'm +going to Portland whether or no; and I'll see what +this world is made of yet. Father stared a little at +first, and said he was afraid I should get lost; but when +he see I was bent upon it, he give it up; and he stepped +to his chist and opened the till, and took out a dollar and +gave to me, and says he, Jack, this is all I can do for +you; but go, and lead an honest life, and I believe I shall +hear good of you yet. He turned and walked across +the room, but I could see the tears start into his eyes, +and mother sot down and had a hearty crying spell. +This made me feel rather bad for a minute or two, +and I almost had a mind to give it up; and then again +father's dream came into my mind, and I mustered up +courage, and declared I'd go. So I tackled up the old +horse and packed in a load of ax handles and a few +notions, and mother fried me some dough-nuts and put +'em into a box along with some cheese and sassages, +and ropped me up another shirt, for I told her I did n't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +know how long I should be gone; and after I got all +rigged out, I went round and bid all the neighbors good +bye, and jumped in and drove off for Portland.</p> + +<p>Ant Sally had been married two or three years before +and moved to Portland, and I inquired round till I +found out where she lived, and went there and put the +old horse up and eat some supper and went to bed. +And the next morning I got up and straightened right +off to see the Editor of the Portland Courier, for I knew +by what I had seen in his paper that he was just the +man to tell me which way to steer. And when I come +to see him I knew I was right; for soon as I told him +my name and what I wanted, he took me by the hand +as kind as if he had been a brother; and says he, Mr. +Downing, I'll do any thing I can to assist you. You +have come to a good town; Portland is a healthy thriving +place, and any man with a proper degree of enterprise +may do well here. But says he, Mr. Downing, +and he looked mighty kind of knowing, says he, if you +want to make out to your mind, you must do as the +steamboats do. Well, says I, how do they do? for I +did n't know what a steam boat was, any more than +the man in the moon. Why, says he, they <i>go ahead</i>. +And you must drive about among the folks here jest +as though you were at home on the farm among the +cattle. Dont be afraid of any of 'em, but figure away, +and I dare say you will get into good business in a very +little while. But, says he, there's one thing you must +be careful of, and that is not to get into the hands of +them are folks that trades up round Huckler's Row: +for there's some sharpers up there, if they get hold of +you, would twist your eye teeth out in five minutes. +Well after he had gin me all the good advice he could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +I went back to Ant Sally's again and got some breakfast, +and then I walked all over the town to see what +chance I could find to sell my ax handles and things, +and to get into business.</p> + +<p>After I had walked about three or four hours I come +along towards the upper end of the town where I found +there were stores and shops of all sorts and sizes. And +I met a feller, and says I, what place is this? Why +this says he, is Huckler's Row. What, says I, are +these the stores where the traders in Huckler's Row +keep? And says he, yes. Well then, thinks I to myself, +I have a pesky good mind to go in and have a try +with one of these chaps, and see if they can twist my +eye teeth out. If they can get the best end of a bargain +out of me, they can do what there aint a man in +Downingville can do, and I should jest like to know +what sort of stuff these ere Portland chaps are made of. +So in I goes into the best looking store among 'em. +And I see some biscuit lying on the shelf, and says I, +Mister, how much do you ax apiece for them are biscuit? +A cent apiece, says he. Well, says I, I shant +give you that, but if you 've a mind to, I'll give you +two cents for three of 'em, for I begin to feel a little as +though I should like to take a bite. Well, says he, I +would n't sell 'em to any body else so, but seeing it 's +you I dont care if you take 'em. I knew he lied, for +he never see me before in his life. Well he handed +down the biscuits and I took 'em, and walked round the +store awhile to see what else he had to sell. At last, +says I, Mister, have you got any good new cider? +Says he, yes, as good as ever you see. Well, says I, +what do you ax a glass for it? Two cents, says he. +Well, says I, seems to me I feel more dry than I do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +hungry now. Aint you a mind to take these ere biscuit +again and give me a glass of cider? And says he, I +dont care if I do; so he took and laid 'em on the shelf +again, and poured out a glass of cider. I took the +cider and drinkt it down, and to tell the truth it was +capital good cider. Then, says I, I guess it 's time for +me to be a going, and I stept along towards the door. +But, says he, stop Mister. I believe you have 'nt paid +me for the cider. Not paid you for the cider, says I, +what do you mean by that? Did n't the biscuit that I +give you jest come to the cider? Oh, ah, right, says +he. So I started to go again; and says he, but stop, +Mister, you did n't pay me for the biscuit. What, says +I, do you mean to impose upon me? do you think I am +going to pay you for the biscuit and let you keep 'em +tu? Aint they there now on your shelf, what more do +you want? I guess sir, you dont whittle me in that +way. So I turned about and marched off, and left the +feller staring and thinking and scratching his head, as +though he was struck with a dunderment. Howsomever, +I did n't want to cheat him, only jest to show 'em +it want so easy a matter to pull my eye teeth out, so I +called in next day and paid him his two cents. Well +I staid at Ant Sally's a week or two, and I went about +town every day to see what chance I could find to trade +off my ax handles, or hire out, or find some way or +other to begin to seek my fortune.</p> + +<p>And I must confess the editor of the Courier was +about right in calling Portland a pretty good thriving +sort of a place; every body seemed to be as busy as +so many bees; and the masts of the vessels stuck up +round the wharves as thick as pine trees in uncle +Joshua's pasture; and the stores and the shops were so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +thick, it seemed as if there was no end to 'em. In +short, although I have been round the world considerable, +from that time to this, all the way from Madawaska +to Washington, I 've never seen any place yet that +I think has any business to grin at Portland.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PORTLAND_AS_IT_WAS" id="PORTLAND_AS_IT_WAS"></a>PORTLAND AS IT WAS.</h2> + +<h3>By William Willis.</h3> + + +<p>The advantages which in early days our new country +held out for employment, encouraged immigration, and +the population was almost wholly made up by accessions +from the more thickly peopled parts of Massachusetts. +To the county of Essex particularly, in the +early as well as more recent period of our history, the +town is indebted for large portions of its population. +Middlesex, Suffolk and the Old Colony, were not without +their contributions. But the people did not come +from such widely different sources as to produce any +difficulty of amalgamation, or any striking diversity of +manners. They formed one people and brought with +them the steady habits and good principles of those +from whom they had separated. There were some +accessions before the revolution made to our population +from the other side of the Atlantic; the emigrants +readily incorporated themselves with our people and +form a substantial part of the population. Within +twenty years, the numbers by immigration have increased +more rapidly, especially from Ireland, but not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +sufficiently to destroy the uniformity which characterises +our population, nor to disturb the harmony of our +community.</p> + +<p>It cannot have escaped observation that one of the +principal sources of our wealth has been the lumber +trade. We have seen on the revival of the town in the +early part of the last century, how intimately the progress +of the town was connected with operations in +timber. Before the revolution our commerce was +sustained almost wholly by the large ships from England +which loaded here with masts, spars, and boards +for the mother country, and by ship building. The +West India business was then comparatively small, +employing but few vessels of inferior size. After the +revolution our trade had to form new channels, and the +employment of our own navigation was to give new +activity to all the springs of industry and wealth. We +find therefore that the enterprise of the people arose to +the emergency, and in a few years our ships were +floating on every ocean, becoming the carriers of +southern as well as northern produce, and bringing +back the money and commodities of other countries. +The trade to the West Indies, supported by our lumber, +increased vastly, and direct voyages were made in +larger vessels than had before been employed, which +received in exchange for the growth of our forests and +our seas, sugar, molasses and rum, the triple products +of the cane. This trade has contributed mainly to the +advancement and prosperity of the town, has nourished +a hardy race of seamen, and formed a people among +the most active and enterprising of any in the United +States.</p> + +<p>The great changes which have taken place in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +customs and manners of society since the revolution, +must deeply impress the mind of a reflecting observer. +These have extended not only to the outward forms of +things, but to the habits of thought and to the very +principles of character. The moral revolution has +been as signal and striking as the political one; it upturned +the old land marks of antiquated and hereditary +customs and the obedience to mere authority, and +established in their stead a more simple and just rule +of action; it set up reason and common sense, and a +true equality in the place of a factitious and conventional +state of society which unrelentingly required a +submission to its stern dictates; which made an unnatural +distinction in moral power, and elevated the rich +knave or fool to the station that humble and despised +merit would have better graced.</p> + +<p>These peculiarities have been destroyed by the +silent and gradual operation of public opinion; the +spirit which arose in the new world is spreading with +the same effect over the old. Freedom of opinion is +asserting a just sway, and it is only now to be feared +that the principle will be carried too far, that authority +will lose all its influence and that reason and a just estimate +of human rights will not be sufficient restraints +upon the passions of men. The experiment is going +on, and unless education, an early and sound moral +education go on with it, which will enlighten and +strengthen the public mind, it will fail of success. The +feelings and passions must be placed under the charge +of moral principle, or we may expect an age of licentiousness +to succeed one of authority and rigid discipline. +We may be said now to be in the transition +state of society.</p> + +<p>Distinctions of rank among different classes of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +community, a part of the old system, prevailed very +much before the revolution and were preserved in the +dress as well as in the forms of society. But the deference +attached to robes of office and the formality of +official station have all fled before the genius of our +republican institutions; we look now upon the man and +not upon his garments nor upon the post to which +chance may have elevated him. In the circle of our +little town, the lines were drawn with much strictness. +The higher classes were called the <i>quality</i>, and were +composed of persons not engaged in mechanic employments. +We now occasionally find some old persons +whose memory recurs with longing delight to the days +in which these formal distinctions held uncontrolled +sway.</p> + +<p>The fashionable color of clothes among this class +was drab; the coats were made with large cuffs reaching +to the elbows, and low collars. All classes wore +breeches which had not the advantage of being kept +up as in modern times by suspenders; the dandies of +that day wore embroidered silk vests with long pocket +flaps and ruffles over their hands. Most of those above +mentioned were engaged in trade, and the means of +none were sufficiently ample to enable them to live +without engaging in some employment. Still the pride +of their cast was maintained, and although the cloak +and perhaps the wig may have been laid aside in the +dust and hurry of business, they were scrupulously +retained when abroad.</p> + +<p>There were many other expensive customs in that +day to which the spirit of the age required implicit +obedience; these demanded costly presents to be made +and large expenses to be incurred at the three most +important events in the history of man, his birth, marriage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +and death. In the latter it became particularly +onerous and extended the influence of its example to +the poorest classes of people, who in their show of +grief, imitated, though at an immeasurable distance, +the customs of the rich.</p> + +<p>The leaders of the people in the early part of the +revolution, with a view to check importations from +Britain, aimed a blow at these expensive customs, from +which they never recovered. The example commenced +in the highest places, of an entire abandonment of +all the outward trappings of grief which had been wont +to be displayed, and of all luxury in dress, which +extended over the whole community. In the later +stages of the revolution however, an extravagant and +luxurious style of living and dress was revived, encouraged +by the large amount both of specie and paper +money in circulation, and the great quantity of foreign +articles of luxury brought into the country by numerous +captures.</p> + +<p>The evils here noticed did not exist in this part of +the country in any considerable degree, especially +after the revolution; the people were too poor to indulge +in an expensive style of living. They were literally +a working people, property had not descended +upon them from a rich ancestry, but whatever they +had accumulated had been the result of their own industry +and economy. Our ladies too at that period +had not forgotten the use of the distaff, and occasionally +employed that antiquated instrument of domestic +labor for the benefit of others as well as of themselves. +The following notice of a <i>spinning bee</i> at Mrs. Deane's +on the first of May 1788, is a flattering memorial of +the industry and skill of the females of our town at +that period.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> + +<p>"On the first instant, assembled at the house of the +Rev. Samuel Deane of this town, more than one hundred +of the fair sex, married and single ladies, most of +whom were skilled in the important art of spinning. +An emulous industry was never more apparent than +in this beautiful assembly. The majority of fair hands +gave motion to not less than sixty wheels. Many were +occupied in preparing the materials, besides those who +attended to the entertainment of the rest, provision for +which was mostly presented by the guests themselves, +or sent in by other generous promoters of the exhibition, +as were also the materials for the work. Near +the close of the day, Mrs. Deane was presented by the +company with <i>two hundred and thirty-six</i> seven knotted +skeins of excellent cotton and linen yarn, the work +of the day, excepting about a dozen skeins which +some of the company brought in ready spun. Some +had spun six, and many not less than five skeins apiece. +To conclude and crown the day, a numerous band of +the best singers attended in the evening, and performed +an agreeable variety of excellent pieces in psalmody."</p> + +<p>Some of the ante-revolutionary customs "more honored +in the breach than in the observance"—have +been continued quite to our day, although not precisely +in the same manner, nor in equal degree. One was +the practise of helping forward every undertaking by a +deluge of ardent spirit in some of its multifarious mistifications. +Nothing could be done from the burial of +a friend or the quiet sessions of a town committee; to +the raising of the frame of a barn or a meeting-house, +but the men must be goaded on by the stimulus of rum. +Flip and punch were then the indispensable accompaniments +of every social meeting and of every enterprise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is not a great while since similar customs have +extensively prevailed not perhaps in precisely the instances +or degree above mentioned, but in junkettings, +and other meetings which have substituted whiskey +punch, toddy, &c. for the soothing but pernicious compounds +of our fathers. Thanks however to the genius +of temperance, a redeeming spirit is abroad, which it is +hoped will save the country from the destruction that +seemed to threaten it from this source.</p> + +<p>The amusements of our people in early days had +nothing particular to distinguish them. The winter +was generally a merry season, and the snow was always +improved for sleighing parties out of town. In +summer the badness of the roads prevented all riding +for pleasure; in that season the inhabitants indulged +themselves in water parties, fishing and visiting the +islands, a recreation that has lost none of its relish at +this day.</p> + +<p>Dancing does not seem to have met with much +favor, for we find upon record in 1766, that Theophilus +Bradbury and wife, Nathaniel Deering and wife, John +Waite and wife, and several other of the most respectable +people in town were indicted for dancing at Joshua +Freeman's tavern in December 1765. Mr. Bradbury +brought himself and friends off by pleading that +the room in which the dance took place, having been +hired by private individuals for the season, was no +longer to be considered as a public place of resort, but +a private apartment, and that the persons there assembled +had a right to meet in their own room and to +dance there. The court sustained the plea. David +Wyer was king's attorney at this time.</p> + +<p>It was common for clubs and social parties to meet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +at the tavern in those days, and Mrs. Greele's in Backstreet +was a place of most fashionable resort both for +old and young wags, before as well as after the revolution. +It was the <i>Eastcheap</i> of Portland, and was as +famous for <i>baked beans</i> as the "Boar's head" was for +sack, although we would by no means compare honest +Dame Greele, with the more celebrated, though less +deserving hostess of Falstaff and Poins. Many persons +are now living on whose heads the frosts of age have +extinguished the fires of youth, who love to recur to +the amusing scenes and incidents associated with that +house.</p> + +<p>When we look back a space of just two hundred +years and compare our present situation, surrounded +by all the beauty of civilization and intelligence, with +the cheerless prospect which awaited the European +settler, whose voice first startled the stillness of the +forest; or if we look back but one hundred years to +the humble beginnings of the second race of settlers, +who undertook the task of reviving the waste places of +this wilderness, and suffered all the privations and hardships +which the pioneers in the march of civilization +are called upon to endure; or if we take a nearer point +for comparison, and view the blackened ruin of our +village at the close of the revolutionary war, and estimate +the proud pre-eminence over all those periods +which we now enjoy, in our civil relations and in the +means of social happiness, our hearts should swell with +gratitude to the Author of all good that these high +privileges are granted to us; and we should resolve +that we will individually and as a community sustain +the purity and moral tone of our institutions, and leave +them unimpaired to posterity.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_CHEROKEES_THREAT" id="THE_CHEROKEES_THREAT"></a>THE CHEROKEE'S THREAT.</h2> + +<h3>By N. P. Willis.</h3> + + +<p>At the extremity of a green lane in the outer skirt of +the fashionable suburb of New-Haven, stood a rambling +old Dutch house, built, probably, when the cattle +of Mynheer grazed over the present site of the town. +It was a wilderness of irregular rooms, of no describable +shape in its exterior, and from its southern balcony, +to use an expressive gallicism, <i>gave</i> upon the bay. +Long Island Sound, the great highway from the northern +Atlantic to New York, weltered in alternate lead +and silver (oftener like the brighter metal, for the climate +is divine) between the curving lip of the bay, +and the interminable and sandy shore of the island +some six leagues distant, the procession of ships and +steamers stole past with an imperceptible progress, the +ceaseless bells of the college chapel came deadened +through the trees from behind, and (the day being one +of golden Autumn, and myself and St. John waiting +while black Agatha answered the door-bell) the sun-steeped +precipice of East Rock with its tiara of blood-red +maples flushing like a Turk's banner in the light, +drew from us both a truant wish for a ramble and a +holiday.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes from this time were assembled in +Mrs. Ilfrington's drawing-room the six or seven young +ladies of my more particular acquaintance among her +pupils—of whom one was a new-comer, and the object +of my mingled curiosity and admiration. It was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +one day of the week when morning visiters were admitted, +and I was there in compliance with an unexpected +request from my friend, to present him to the +agreeable circle of Mrs. Ilfrington. As an <i>habitue</i> in +her family, this excellent lady had taken occasion to +introduce to me a week or two before, the new-comer +of whom I have spoken above—a departure from the +ordinary rule of the establishment, which I felt to be a +compliment, and which gave me, I presumed, a tacit +claim to mix myself up in that young lady's destiny as +deeply as I should find agreeable. The new-comer +was the daughter of an Indian chief, and her name +was Nunu.</p> + +<p>The transmission of the daughter of a Cherokee +chief to New-Haven, to be educated at the expense of +the government, and of several young men of the same +high birth to different colleges, will be recorded among +the evidences in history that we did not plough the +bones of their fathers into our fields without some feelings +of compunction. Nunu had come to the seaboard +under the charge of a female missionary, whose pupil +she had been in one of the native schools of the west, +and was destined, though a chief's daughter, to return +as a teacher to her tribe, when she should have mastered +some of the higher accomplishments of her sex. +She was an apt scholar, but her settled melancholy +when away from her books, had determined Mrs. Ilfrington +to try the effect of a little society upon her, +and hence my privilege to ask for her appearance in +the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>As we strolled down in the alternate shade and sunshine +of the road, I had been a little piqued at the +want of interest and the manner of course with which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +St. John had received my animated descriptions of the +personal beauty of the Cherokee.</p> + +<p>"I have hunted with the tribe," was his only answer, +"and know their features."</p> + +<p>"But she is not like them," I replied with a tone of +some impatience; "she is the <i>beau-ideal</i> of a red skin, +but it is with the softened features of an Arab or an +Egyptian. She is more willowy than erect, and has +no higher cheek-bones than the plaster Venus in your +chambers. If it were not for the lambent fire in her +eye, you might take her in the sculptured grace of her +attitudes, for an immortal bronze of Cleopatra. I tell +you she is divine!"</p> + +<p>St. John called to his dog and we turned along the +green bank above the beach, with Mrs. Ilfrington's +house in view, and so opens a new chapter of my story.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I have seen in many years wandering over the world, +lived to gaze upon, and live to remember and adore—a +constellation, I almost believe, that has absorbed all +the intensest light of the beauty of a hemisphere—yet +with your pictures coloured to life in my memory, and +the pride of rank and state thrown over them like an +elevating charm—I go back to the school of Mrs. Ilfrington, +and (smile if you will!) they were as lovely +and stately, and as worthy of the worship of the world.</p> + +<p>I introduced St. John to the young ladies as they +came in. Having never seen him except in the presence +of men, I was a little curious to know whether +his singular <i>aplomb</i> would serve him as well with the +other sex, of which I was aware he had had a very +slender experience. My attention was distracted at +the moment of mentioning his name to a lovely little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +Georgian, (with eyes full of the liquid sunshine of the +south,) by a sudden bark of joy from the dog who had +been left in the hall; and as the door opened, and the +slight and graceful Indian girl entered the room, the +usually unsocial animal sprung bounding in, lavishing +caresses on her, and seemingly wild with the delight +of recognition.</p> + +<p>In the confusion of taking the dog from the room, I +had again lost the moment of remarking St. John's +manner, and on the entrance of Mrs. Ilfrington, Nunu +was sitting calmly by the piano, and my friend was +talking in a quiet undertone with the passionate Georgian.</p> + +<p>"I must apologise for my dog," said St. John, bowing +gracefully to the mistress of the house; "he was +bred by Indians, and the sight of a Cherokee reminded +him of happier days—as it did his master."</p> + +<p>Nunu turned her eyes quickly upon him, but immediately +resumed her apparently deep study of the abstruse +figures in the Kidderminster carpet.</p> + +<p>"You are well arrived, young gentlemen," said +Mrs. Ilfrington; "we press you into our service for a +botanical ramble, Mr. Slingsby is at leisure, and will be +delighted I am sure. Shall I say as much for you, +Mr. St. John?" St. John bowed, and the ladies left +the room for their bonnets, Mrs. Ilfrington last.</p> + +<p>The door was scarcely closed when Nunu re-appeared, +and checking herself with a sudden feeling at the +first step over the threshold, stood gazing at St. John, +evidently under very powerful emotion.</p> + +<p>"Nunu!" he said, smiling slowly and unwillingly, +and holding out his hands with the air of one who forgives +an offence.</p> + +<p>She sprang upon his bosom with the bound of a leveret,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +and, between her fast kisses broke the endearing +epithets of her native tongue—in words that I only understood +by their passionate and thrilling accent. The +language of the heart is universal.</p> + +<p>The fair scholars came in one after another, and we +were soon on our way through the green fields to the +flowery mountain side of East Rock, Mrs. Ilfrington's +arm and conversation having fallen to my share, and +St. John rambling at large with the rest of the party, +but more particularly beset by Miss Temple, whose +Christian name was Isabella, and whose Christian charity +had no bowels for broken hearts.</p> + +<p>The most sociable individuals of the party for a +while were Nunu and Last, the dog's recollections of +the past seeming, like those of wiser animals, more +agreeable than the present. The Cherokee astonished +Mrs. Ilfrington by an abandonment of joy and frolic +which she had never displayed before, sometimes fairly +outrunning the dog at full speed, and sometimes sitting +down breathless upon a green bank, while the +rude creature overpowered her with his caresses. The +scene gave rise to a grave discussion between that well-instructed +lady and myself upon the singular force of +childish association—the extraordinary intimacy between +the Indian and the trapper's dog being explained +satisfactorily, to her at least, on that attractive principle. +Had she but seen Nunu spring into the bosom of +my friend half an hour before, she might have added a +material corollary to her proposition. If the dog and +the chief's daughter were not old friends, the chief's +daughter and St. John certainly <i>were</i>!</p> + +<p>As well as I could judge by the motions of two people +walking before me, St. John was advancing fast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +in the favor and acquaintance of the graceful Georgian. +Her southern indolence was probably an apology in +Mrs. Ilfrington's eyes for leaning heavily on her companion's +arm, but, in a momentary halt, the capricious +beauty disembarrassed herself of the light scarf that +had floated over her shoulders, and bound it playfully +around his waist. This was rather strange on a first +acquaintance, and Mrs. Ilfrington was of that opinion.</p> + +<p>"Miss Temple!" said she, advancing to whisper a +reproof in the beauty's ear.</p> + +<p>Before she had taken a second step, Nunu bounded +over the low hedge, followed by the dog with whom +she had been chasing a butterfly, and springing upon +St. John, with eyes that flashed fire, she tore the scarf +into shreds, and stood trembling and pale, with her feet +on the silken fragments.</p> + +<p>"Madam!" said St. John, advancing to Mrs. Ilfrington, +after casting on the Cherokee a look of surprise +and displeasure, "I should have told you before, that +your pupil and myself are not new acquaintances. +Her father is my friend. I have hunted with the tribe, +and have hitherto looked upon Nunu as a child. You +will believe me, I trust, when I say, her conduct surprises +me, and I beg to assure you, that any influence +I may have over her, will be in accordance with your +own wishes exclusively."</p> + +<p>His tone was cold, and Nunu listened with fixed lips +and frowning eyes.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen her before since her arrival?" +asked Mrs. Ilfrington.</p> + +<p>"My dog brought me yesterday the first intelligence +that she was here. He returned from his morning +ramble with a string of wampum about his neck, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +had the mark of the tribe. He was her gift," he added, +patting the head of the dog and looking with a +softened expression at Nunu, who drooped her head +upon her bosom and walked on in tears.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The chain of the Green Mountains, after a gallop of +some five hundred miles from Canada to Connecticut, +suddenly pulls up on the shore of Long Island Sound, +and stands rearing with a bristling mane of pine-trees, +three hundred feet in air, as if checked in midcareer +by the sea. Standing on the brink of this bold precipice, +you have the bald face of the rock in a sheer +perpendicular below you; and, spreading away from +the broken masses at its foot, lies an emerald meadow +inlaid with a crystal and rambling river, across which, +at a distance of a mile or two, rise the spires of the +university from what else were a thick serried wilderness +of elms. Back from the edge of the precipice +extends a wild forest of hemlock and fir, ploughed on +its northern side by a mountain torrent, whose bed of +marl, dry and overhung with trees in the summer, +serves as a path and guide from the plain to the summit. +It were a toilsome ascent but for that smooth +and hard pavement, and the impervious and green +thatch of pine-tassels overhung.</p> + +<p>The kind mistress ascended with the assistance of +my arm, and St. John drew stoutly between Miss +Temple and a fat young lady with an incipient asthma. +Nunu had not been seen since the first cluster of hanging +flowers had hidden her from our sight as she bounded +upward.</p> + +<p>The hour or two of slanting sunshine, poured in upon +the summit of the precipice from the west, had been +sufficient to induce a fine and silken moss to show its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +fibres and small blossoms above the carpet of pine-tassels, +and, emerging from the brown shadow of the +wood, you stood on a verdant platform, the foliage of +sighing trees overhead, a fairies' velvet beneath you, +and a view below, that you may as well (if you would +not die in your ignorance) make a voyage to see.</p> + +<p>We found Nunu lying thoughtfully near the brink +of the precipice and gazing off over the waters of the +sound, as if she watched the coming or going of a +friend under the white sails that glanced upon its bosom. +We recovered our breath in silence, I alone +perhaps of that considerable company gazing with admiration +at the lithe and unconscious figure of grace +lying in the attitude of the Grecian hermaphrodite on +the brow of the rock before us. Her eyes were moist, +and motionless with abstraction, her lips just perceptibly +curved in an expression of mingled pride and sorrow, +her small hand buried and clenched in the moss, and +her left foot and ankle, models of spirited symmetry, +escaped carelessly from her dress, the high instep +strained back, as if recovering from a leap with the +tense control of emotion.</p> + +<p>The game of the coquettish Georgian was well played. +With a true woman's pique, she had redoubled +her attentions to my friend from the moment that she +found it gave pain to another of her sex; and St. John, +like most men, seemed not unwilling to see a new altar +kindled to his vanity, though a heart he had already +won, was stifling with the incense. Miss Temple was +very lovely: her skin of that teint of opaque and patrician +white, which is found oftenest in Asian latitudes, +was just perceptibly warmed toward the centre of the +cheek with a glow like sunshine through the thick white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +petal of a magnolia: her eyes were hazel with those +inky lashes which enhance the expression a thousand +fold either of passion, or melancholy; her teeth were +like strips from the lily's heart; and she was clever, +captivating, graceful, and a thorough coquette. St. +John was mysterious, romantic-looking, superior, and +just now the only victim in the way. He admired, as +all men do, those qualities, which to her own sex, rendered +the fair Isabella unamiable, and yielded himself, +as all men will, a satisfied prey to enchantments of +which he knew the springs were the pique and vanity +of the enchantress. How singular it is that the highest +and best qualities of the female heart are those with +which men are the least captivated!</p> + +<p>A rib of the mountain formed a natural seat a little +back from the pitch of the precipice, and here sat Miss +Temple, triumphant in drawing all eyes upon herself +and her tamed lion, her lap full of flowers which he +had found time to gather on the way, and her fair +hands employed in arranging a bouquet, of which the +destiny was yet a secret. Next to their own loves, +ladies like nothing on earth like mending or marring +the loves of others; and, while the violets and already +drooping wild flowers were coquettishly chosen or rejected +by those slender fingers, the sun might have +swung back to the east like a pendulum, and those +seven-and-twenty misses would have watched their +lovely schoolfellow the same. Nunu turned her head +slowly around at last, and silently looked on. St. John +lay at the feet of the Georgian, glancing from the flowers +to her face, and from her face to the flowers, with +an admiration not at all equivocal. Mrs. Ilfrington sat +apart, absorbed in finishing a sketch of New-Haven;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +and I, interested painfully in watching the emotions of +the Cherokee, sat with my back to the trunk of a hemlock, +the only spectator who comprehended the whole +extent of the drama.</p> + +<p>A wild rose was set in the heart of the bouquet at +last, a spear of riband-grass added to give it grace and +point, and nothing was wanting but a string.</p> + +<p>Reticules were searched, pockets turned inside out, +and never a bit of riband to be found. The beauty +was in despair.</p> + +<p>"Stay!" said St. John, springing to his feet. "Last! +Last!"</p> + +<p>The dog came coursing in from the wood, and +crouched to his master's hand.</p> + +<p>"Will a string of wampum do?" he asked, feeling +under the long hair on the dog's neck, and untying a +fine and variegated thread of many-colored beads, +worked exquisitely.</p> + +<p>The dog growled, and Nunu sprang into the middle +of the circle with the fling of an adder, and seizing the +wampum as he handed it to her rival, called the dog +and fastened it once more around his neck.</p> + +<p>The ladies rose in alarm; the belle turned pale and +clung to St. John's arm; the dog, with his hair bristling +on his back, stood close to her feet in an attitude of defiance, +and the superb Indian, the peculiar genius of +her beauty developed by her indignation, her nostrils +expanded and her eyes almost showering fire in their +flashes, stood before them, like a young Pythoness, +ready to strike them dead with a regard.</p> + +<p>St. John recovered from his astonishment after a +moment, and leaving the arm of Miss Temple, advanced +a step and called to his dog.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Cherokee patted the animal on the back, and +spoke to him in her own language; and, as St. John +still advanced, Nunu drew herself to her fullest height, +placed herself before the dog, who slunk growling from +his master, and said to him as she folded her arms, +"the wampum is mine!"</p> + +<p>St. John colored to the temples with shame.</p> + +<p>"Last!" he cried, stamping with his foot, and endeavoring +to frighten him from his shelter.</p> + +<p>The dog howled and crept away, half crouching +with fear toward the precipice; and St. John shooting +suddenly past Nunu, seized him on the brink, and held +him down by the throat.</p> + +<p>The next instant a scream of horror from Mrs. Ilfrington, +followed by a terrific echo from every female +present, started the rude Kentuckian to his feet.</p> + +<p>Clear over the abyss, hanging with one hand by an +aspen sapling, the point of her tiny foot just poising on +a projecting ledge of rock, swung the desperate Cherokee, +sustaining herself with perfect ease, but with all +the determination of her iron race collected in calm +concentration on her lips.</p> + +<p>"Restore the wampum to his neck!" she cried, +with a voice that thrilled the very marrow with its subdued +fierceness, "or my blood rest on your soul!"</p> + +<p>St. John flung it toward the dog, and clasped his +hands in silent horror.</p> + +<p>The Cherokee bore down the sapling till its slender +stem cracked with the tension, and rising lightly with +the rebound, alit like a feather upon the rock. The +subdued Kentuckian sprang to her side; but, with scorn +on her lip and the flush of exertion already vanished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +from her cheek, she called to the dog, and with rapid +strides took her way alone down the mountain.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Five years had elapsed. I had put to sea from the +sheltered river of boyhood; had encountered the storms +of a first entrance into life; had trimmed my boat, +shortened sail, and with a sharp eye to windward, was +laying fairly on my course. Among others from whom +I had parted company, was Paul St. John, who had +shaken hands with me at the university-gate, leaving +me, after four years' intimacy, as much in doubt as to +his real character and history as the first day we met. +I had never heard him speak of either father or mother; +nor had he, to my knowledge, received a letter +from the day of his matriculation. He passed his vacation +at the university. He had studied well, yet +refused one of the highest college-honors offered him +with his degree. He had shown many good qualities, +yet some unaccountable faults; and, all in all, was an +enigma to myself and the class. I knew him clever, +accomplished, and conscious of superiority, and my +knowledge went no farther.</p> + +<p>It was five years from this time, I say, and in the +bitter struggles of first manhood, I had almost forgotten +there was such a being in the world. Late in the +month of October, in 1829, I was on my way westward, +giving myself a vacation from the law. I embarked on +a clear and delicious day in the small steamer which +plies up and down the Cayuga Lake, looking forward +to a calm feast of scenery, and caring little who were +to be my fellow passengers. As we got out of the little +harbor of Cayuga, I walked astern for the first time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +and saw the not very unusual sight of a group of Indians +standing motionless by the wheel. They were +chiefs returning from a diplomatic visit to Washington.</p> + +<p>I sat down by the companion-ladder, and opened +soul and eye to the glorious scenery we were gliding +through. The first severe frost had come, and the +miraculous change had passed upon the leaves, which +is known only in America. The blood-red sugar-maple, +with a leaf brighter and more delicate than a +Circassian's lip, stood here and there in the forest like +the sultan's standard in a host, the solitary and far-seen +aristocrat of the wilderness; the birch, with its +spirit-like and amber leaves, ghosts of the departed +summer, turned out along the edges of the woods like +a lining of the palest gold; the broad sycamore and +the fan-like catalpa, flaunted their saffron foliage in the +sun, spotted with gold like the wings of a lady-bird; +the kingly oak, with its summit shaken bare, still hid +its majestic trunk in a drapery of sumptuous dies like +a stricken monarch, gathering his robes of state about +him to die royally in his purple; the tall poplar, with +its minaret of silver leaves, stood blanched like a coward +in the dying forest, burdening every breeze with +its complainings; the hickory, paled through its enduring +green; the bright berries of the mountain-ash +flushed with a sanguine glory in the unobstructed sun; +the gaudy tulip-tree, the sybarite of vegetation, stripped +of its golden cups, still drank the intoxicating light of +noonday in leaves than which the lip of Indian shell +was never more delicately teinted; the still deeper-died +vines of the lavish wilderness, perishing with the nobler +things whose summer they had shared, outshone them +in their decline, as woman in her death is heavenlier<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +than the being on whom in life she leaned; and alone +and unsympathizing in this universal decay, outlaws +from nature, stood the fir and the hemlock, their frowning +and sombre heads, darker and less lovely than ever +in contrast with the death-struck glory of their companions.</p> + +<p>The dull colors of English autumnal foliage, give +you no conception of this marvellous phenomenon. +The change here, too, is gradual. In America it is +the work of a night—of a single frost! Ah, to have +seen the sun set on hills, bright in the still green and +lingering summer, and to wake in the morning to a +spectacle like this! It is as if a myriad of rainbows +were laced through the tree-tops—as if the sunsets of +a summer—gold, purple and crimson—had been fused +in the alembic of the west, and poured back in a new +deluge of light and color over the wilderness. It is as +if every leaf in those countless trees had been painted +to outflush the tulip—as if, by some electric miracle, +the dies of the earth's heart had struck upward, and +her crystals and ore, her sapphires, hyacinths and rubies, +had let forth their imprisoned dies to mount +through the roots of the forest, and like the angels that +in olden time entered the bodies of the dying, reanimate +the perishing leaves, and revel an hour in their bravery.</p> + +<p>I was sitting by the companion-ladder, thinking to +what on earth these masses of foliage could be resembled, +when a dog sprang upon my knees, and, the +moment after, a hand was laid on my shoulder.</p> + +<p>"St. John? Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Bodily!" answered my quondam classmate.</p> + +<p>I looked at him with astonishment. The <i>soigne</i> man +of fashion I had once known, was enveloped in a kind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +of hunter's frock, loose and large, and girded to his +waist by a belt; his hat was exchanged for a cap of +rich otter-skin; his pantaloons spread with a slovenly +carelessness over his feet, and altogether there was +that in his air which told me at a glance that he had +renounced the world. Last had recovered his leanness, +and after wagging out his joy, he couched between my +feet, and lay looking into my face as if he was brooding +over the more idle days in which we had been acquainted.</p> + +<p>"And where are <i>you</i> bound?" I asked, having answered +the same question for myself.</p> + +<p>"Westward with the chiefs!"</p> + +<p>"For how long?"</p> + +<p>"The remainder of my life."</p> + +<p>I could not forbear an exclamation of surprise.</p> + +<p>"You would wonder less," said he, with an impatient +gesture, "if you knew more of me. And by the +way," he added, with a smile, "I think I never told +you the first half of the story—my life up to the time +I met you."</p> + +<p>"It was not for the want of a catechist," I answered, +setting myself in an attitude of attention.</p> + +<p>"No! and I was often tempted to gratify your curiosity; +but from the little intercourse I had with the +world I had adopted some precocious principles, and +one was, that a man's influence over others was vulgarism, +and diminished by a knowledge of his history."</p> + +<p>I smiled, and as the boat sped on her way over the +calm waters of the Cayuga, St. John went on leisurely +with a story which is scarce remarkable enough to +merit a repetition. He believed himself the natural +son of a western hunter, but only knew that he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +passed his early youth on the borders of civilization, +between whites and Indians, and that he had been more +particularly indebted for protection to the father of +Nunu. Mingled ambition and curiosity had led him +eastward while still a lad, and a year or two of the +most vagabond life in the different cities, had taught +him the caution and bitterness for which he was so remarkable. +A fortunate experiment in lotteries supplied +him with the means of education, and with singular +application in a youth of such wandering habits, he had +applied himself to study under a private master, fitted +himself for the university in half the usual time, and +cultivated in addition the literary taste which I have +remarked upon.</p> + +<p>"This," he said, smiling at my look of astonishment, +"brings me up to the time when we met. I came to +college at the age of eighteen, with a few hundred +dollars in my pocket, some pregnant experience of the +rough side of the world, great confidence in myself and +distrust of others, and, I believe, a kind of instinct of +good manners, which made me ambitious of shining in +society. You were a witness of my <i>debut</i>. Miss +Temple was the first highly educated woman I had +ever known, and you saw the effect on me!"</p> + +<p>"And since we parted?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, since we parted, my life has been vulgar +enough. I have ransacked civilized life to the bottom, +and found it a heap of unredeemed falsehoods. I do +not say it from common disappointment, for I may say +I succeeded in every thing I undertook."</p> + +<p>"Except Miss Temple," I said, interrupting, at the +hazard of wounding him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No. She was a coquette, and I pursued her till +I had my turn. You see me in my new character now. +But a month ago, I was the Apollo of Saratoga, playing +my own game with Miss Temple. I left her for a +woman worth ten thousand of her—but here she is."</p> + +<p>As Nunu came up the companionway from the cabin, +I thought I had never seen a breathing creature so exquisitely +lovely. With the exception of a pair of brilliant +moccasins on her feet, she was dressed in the usual +manner, but with the most absolute simplicity. She +had changed in those five years from the child to the +woman, and, with a round and well-developed figure, +additional height, and manners at once gracious and +dignified, she walked and looked the chieftan's daughter. +St. John took her hand, and gazed on her with +moisture in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"That I could ever put a creature like this," he +said, "into comparison with the dolls of civilization!"</p> + +<p>We parted at Buffalo—St. John with his wife and +the chiefs to pursue their way westward by Lake Erie, +and I to go moralizing on my way to Niagara.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="GRECIAN_AND_ROMAN_ELOQUENCE" id="GRECIAN_AND_ROMAN_ELOQUENCE"></a>GRECIAN AND ROMAN ELOQUENCE.</h2> + +<h3>By Ashur Ware.</h3> + + +<p>In the flourishing periods of the Grecian and Roman +commonwealths, the forms of their governments, the +state of society, and the passions and manners of the +times, were more favorable to the developement of +great talents, than have existed in any other age, or +among any other people. In Athens and Rome, every +citizen was a public man. The great powers of government +were exercised by the people themselves in +their primary assemblies. The practice of delegating +the higher attributes of sovereignty to a small number +of persons periodically elected is one of the greatest +improvements, which the lights of modern experience +have introduced into the constitutions of free governments. +The advantages which are gained by this system +in favor of internal tranquillity, the steadiness and +permanency of political institutions and the security of +private rights, can scarcely be estimated too highly, or +purchased at too great a price. But nearly in the +same proportion as this improvement contributes to the +general tranquillity and the personal security of the +citizen, does it narrow the field for the operation of +great talents. The individual power of each man is +hardly felt in the harmonious working of the great +machine of government, and its character soon comes +to depend much more on the system than on the genius +of those by whom it is conducted. Precedents, +fixed opinions, long established policy and constitutional<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +maxims, throw an invisible net work over those, who +are at the head of affairs, which a giant's strength +cannot break through. An ordinary share of talent, +enlightened by experience, is found to be about as +useful in the regular movement of the system, as the +highest gifts of genius.</p> + +<p>But it was otherwise in the republics of Athens and +Rome. There the power of the system was nothing, +and the genius of the individual every thing. In the +agitations of these popular commonwealths, the great +actors on the stage were driven to a life of unremitted +exertion. The revolutions of popular favor were sudden +and appalling, and always liable to be carried to +great extremes. A decisive moment lost might be +fatal to the hopes of a whole life. Their powers were, +therefore, constantly wound up to the utmost intensity +of action. Second rate men, who are abundantly able +to go through with the regular and quiet routine of +official duty in our modern bureaus, would be quickly +blown down by the storms which shook the tribunes of +those turbulent democracies. The very imperfections +in their political systems contributed to develope the +genius of their statesmen, and necessarily called into +action every faculty of the mind.</p> + +<p>In all free and popular governments, eloquence is +one of the principal instruments of power, and the +fairest field is presented for its operations where the +general powers of government are put in motion by +the immediate agency of the mass of the people. In +all the nations of modern Europe, where the semblance +of deliberative assemblies is preserved, these are composed +of a small and select number of persons; and +in these small bodies, when a reasonable space is allowed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +for the coercive power of party training, for the +operation of the subtle and diffusive poison of executive +influence, and in some cases, for the gross and +palpable application of direct corruption, the province +of eloquence will be found to be greatly narrowed. +Her most persuasive accents fall on ears that are spellbound +by a mightier power, and on the most important +questions, the votes are often counted, before deliberation +commences. But this complicated machinery +cannot be brought to bear with the same effect on the +whole body of the citizens. If their movements are +more irregular, and liable to greater excesses, they +have their origin in the purer and more noble impulses +of the heart. The natural love of equity, the instinctive +principles of disinterestedness and generosity, originally +implanted in the heart of man by the author of +our being, cannot easily be extinguished in a whole people. +After the tools of faction, and the minions of +power, have exhausted the arts of corruption, these +holier elements of our nature will kindle into spontaneous +enthusiasm, when lofty and generous sentiments +are brought home to the bosom in the accents of a +manly and pathetic eloquence. The great and unsophisticated +springs of human action are always touched +with most effect in large assemblies. In these the prevailing +tone of feeling, when highly exalted, spreads +through the whole by a secret sympathy, with the +rapidity of the electric fluid.</p> + +<p>It was before such an audience that eloquence +uttered her voice in ancient times. The orators of +Greece and Rome brought their genius to bear directly +on the popular mind. The public assemblies which +were then held were for actual deliberation. It was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +not a mockery of consultation on matters upon which +all opinions were definitely made up. They came +together to be instructed, and were open to the seductive +arts of their orators even to a fault. The objects +of deliberation also were of the greatest moment, the +fortunes of a province or a kingdom, the safety of the +republic, the honor, or perhaps the life of the orator +himself or his nearest friends. Every motive which +hope or fear or pride or party could suggest, to animate +the passions, was brought to act on the speaker's mind, +and all depended on a doubtful decision, which was to +be made on the spot, and before the separation of the +assembly. These contests were not of rare occurrence. +They were coming up continually. They +were upon the most magnificent theatre in the world, +and before judges who united a most refined and discriminating +taste with an extraordinary degree of susceptibility +to all the charms of a passionate and harmonious +eloquence. The orators, therefore, were kept in +constant training. Their faculties had no time to cool.</p> + +<p>They had no intervals for luxurious repose. The +dignities to which they had risen were watched by +powerful and jealous rivals, always ready to wrest from +them their honors, and they could be retained only by +the same efforts by which they were won.</p> + +<p>In these ancient republics eloquence was substantial +and effective power and led to the highest dignities, +which the most aspiring genius could hope to attain. +It was cultivated with an assiduity bearing a just proportion +to the honors with which it was crowned. The +education of the orator commenced in his cradle, and +did not terminate until he had reached the full <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'muturity'">maturity</ins> +of manhood; or, to speak more correctly, it comprised<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +the whole business of his life. All his studies were +made subservient to the art of speaking, and the course +of instruction descended into the most minute details +which could improve him in his action or elocution. +It was this entire devotion to a favorite and honored +art, which raised it to a height of perfection, which it +has never since been able to reach, and which produced +those prodigies in the oratorical art, which have +been the admiration and the despair of succeeding ages.</p> + +<p>In the most brilliant period of antiquity there were +two styles of eloquence cultivated by the different orators. +One, calm, subtle and elegant, addressed almost +exclusively to the understanding. In the time of +Cicero this was called the Attic style, and those who +belonged to this school assumed no little credit on the +supposed purity of their Attic taste. The other affected +a style of greater warmth and brilliancy, and intermingled +with the scrupulous dialectics of the former, +frequent appeals to the passions, and adorned their discourses +with all the beauties which could captivate the +imagination. What was then denominated the Attic +style, forms the prevailing characteristic of modern +oratory. It is cool and didactic. It relies almost +wholly on the powers of a cultivated logic and seldom +attempts to reach the understanding through the medium +of the heart. It requires little reflection to determine +which of these styles would bear away the palm +before a popular audience. The former leaves one +half the faculties of the hearer dormant, while the latter +addresses itself to all the powers of man, the moral +as well as the intellectual, instructs the reason while it +agitates the passions, and gives at the same time one +powerful and impetuous movement to the whole man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +But if any one doubts upon this matter let him go to +the pages of Demosthenes and especially to that most +perfect of all his orations, in which he was contending +with his great rival for the glory of a whole life in the +presence of all that was most illustrious in Greece,—his +oration for the crown. He will find from the beginning +to the end, a clear and exact logic. But it is +logic raised into enthusiasm by the dignity and elevation +of sentiment by which it is surrounded. He will +not find a metaphor or an observation introduced merely +for the purposes of ornament. It is a continued +stream of clear, rapid and convincing argument. But +it is argument enveloped in a torrent of earnestness +and exaggeration, environed with a blaze of anger and +disdain and passion—it is argument clothed in thunder, +which could no more be listened to with a composed +and tranquil mind than the flashes of lightning could be +viewed with an unblinking eye. Strip Demosthenes of +these accompaniments, of these accessories, if you +please to call them so, and you will leave enough perhaps +to satisfy our modern Attics, but this residue will +be no more like the living Demosthenes who "fulmined +over Greece," than the unformed block of marble +is like the Belvidere Apollo, or a naked skeleton like +a living man.</p> + +<p>It is said that the state of manners in modern society +would not bear those bold appeals to the passions which +abound in the ancient orators. We are ingenious in +taking to ourselves credit even for our inferiority, and +it is contended that our understandings are more cultivated +and our passions more under the dominion of +reason. If there be any foundation for this opinion it +must be received with many qualifications. It has become<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +a fashion of late to decry the manners and morals +of the republics of antiquity. That their manners +differed in many respects from the modes of fashion +established in what is called good society in modern +times is admitted, but it does not follow that the advantage +is on our side. There is still less foundation for +the opinion that in their intellectual powers the Greeks +and Romans were less cultivated than the most polished +nations of our times. There never existed a nation +in which the intellectual education of the whole body +of the people was carried to so high a pitch as in Athens. +However extravagant the assertion may be +thought, it is indisputably true that the "mob of Athens," +as the people of that renowned commonwealth +are affectedly called, were of a more refined, severe +and critical taste in every thing that pertains to the beauties +of eloquence than the members of the British House +of Commons have been, at any period of its existence, +from the first meeting of the Wittenagemote to the +present day. They would allow, says Cicero, in their +orators no violation of purity or elegance of language. +<i>Eorum religioni cum serviret orator, nullum verbum +insolens, nullum odiosum ponere audebat.</i> Many a +speech has been cheered by the "<i>hear hims</i>" of the +Treasury Bench in that house, which would have shocked +the discriminating and critical ears, <i>aures teretes ac +religiosas</i>, of that extraordinary people. The whole +testimony of antiquity concurs in proving their extreme +delicacy and fastidiousness in every thing which belongs +to taste in letters and the arts.</p> + +<p>There was another peculiarity in the circumstances +of these ancient republics which favored the cultivation +of eloquence. The press, that great engine by which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +public opinion is moved in modern times, was then unknown. +Addresses in the assemblies of the people +were not only the ordinary but almost the sole mode +by which public men could influence or enlighten public +opinion. All political discussion assumed this form +and these popular harangues composed a very large +portion of the literature of the times. The language +of oral communication naturally assumes a tone of +greater vivacity and passion than that of the closet. +The predominance of this species of composition must +have had a powerful influence in forming the national +taste and would naturally impart its prevailing tone to +every other species. Such seems to have been the +fact. The philosophers and historians caught something +of the animated and rhetorical manner of their +public speakers, and in that species of eloquence which +is suited to the nature of their subjects, surpass the +moderns nearly as much as their orators do. Plato +stands as far above all rivals in this particular, as his +countryman and disciple Demosthenes. The easy and +graceful movement of his dialogue, the splendid amplification +and harmonious numbers of his declamation +and the warm and animated glow of moral enthusiasm, +which he has thrown over his mystical speculations, +render his works the most perfect specimen of philosophical +eloquence ever yet produced. His example +will also show what importance was attached to style +alone by the teachers of ancient wisdom. The last labors +of a long life, which had been devoted to the most +sublime philosophy of the age, were employed in retouching +and remodelling the inimitable graces of his +rich and flowing periods; <i>musæo contingens cuncta lepore</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>A superiority scarcely less imposing in this respect +will be found in their historians. Their genius was +also kindled by a coal from the altar of the orators. I +am ready to acknowledge the great merit of the classic +historians of modern times. I am not insensible to the +calm and sustained dignity of Roberston, to the melody +of his full and flowing style, though it sometimes fills +the ear without filling the mind. He must be a much +more morose critic who is not delighted with the simple +and unaffected elegance of Hume, and with that admirable +facility with which he intermingles the most profound +reflections in a narration always easy, copious +and graceful. Nor can the historian of the Decline +and Fall of the Roman Empire be forgotten in an enumeration +of those who have done honor to this branch +of literature. After all that has been said and written +against him, he has left a work which the world will +not willingly suffer to die. The Randolphs and Taylors +and Chelsums by whom he was assailed, have +passed into an easy oblivion, but the great work of the +historian will always find a place in every library and +a reader in every well educated man. The pomp and +stateliness of his style sometimes bordering on the turgid +may provoke a sneer from those who look only to +the surface, but he had a mind enriched by various +and extensive learning, which he has exuberantly and +tastefully displayed in every page of his work. It may +also be admitted that in modern times history has in +its general character received something more of a philosophical +tone. But what it has gained on the side of +philosophy it has more than lost on that of eloquence.</p> + +<p>Compare the triumvirate of English historians in this +respect with the inestimable remains of antiquity, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +there is a disparity as striking as it is difficult to be +accounted for. In this, as in every other department +of literature, the Romans were the imitators of the +Greeks; but in history while they imitated they surpassed +their masters. The two great historians of +Rome stand above all that preceded as well as all that +followed them. The history of the rise of the Roman +republic, from a small band of outlaws to the uncontrolled +mastery of the world, is the most extraordinary +chapter in the history of the human race. The annals +of mankind present nothing that resembles it. A +splendid or an affecting story may be degraded or belittled +by being told in an unworthy style. But the +style of Livy never falls below the dignity of his subject. +His eloquence is as magnificent as the fortunes +of the eternal city. In splendor of language, in glowing +and picturesque description, in warmth and brilliancy +and boldness of coloring, and in the dignified and majestic +movement of his whole narrative, there is nothing +in the literature of any country which will bear a comparison +with the Decads of Livy. He is always on +the borders of oratory and poetry, without ever passing +the soberness of history. <i>Mille habet ornatus, mille +decenter habet.</i></p> + +<p>The golden age of letters in Rome was as short as +it was brilliant. It scarcely surpassed in duration the +ordinary term of human life. Commencing with Cicero, +it closed with the generation who were his cotemporaries, +the last who breathed the free air of the +republic. But in the universal corruption of taste and +morals that followed the extinction of liberty, there +arose one man, Tacitus, whose genius belonged to a +happier age. In his own, it has been remarked with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +as much truth as beauty, he stands like a column in +the midst of ruins. It has been said that the secret of +his style belongs to the circumstances of his life, as +well as to the peculiar temperament of the man. He +wrote the history of his own times, and they presented +but few bright spots on which the eye could repose +with pleasure. But he paints the features of that dark +and fearful peace, of that awful and portentous silence +of despotism, convulsed as it was by internal dissensions +and agitated by all the vices of a profligate populace +and an abandoned nobility, in words of enchantment. +While they seem to express every thing that is +terrible in tragedy, they suggest to the imagination +more than meets the ear. No man could have described +those scenes as he has done but one who had seen +and felt them. His vivid and graphic pictures speak +at once to the eye, to the imagination, and to the heart; +and without any of the parade or ostentation of eloquence, +he impresses on the mind of the reader all the +feelings which seem to prevail in his own.</p> + +<p>The current of fashion has for some time been setting +strongly against classical learning. In an age of +so much intellectual activity as the present, all sorts of +new opinions are received with favor. The most +extravagant have their hour of triumph until they are +chased from the stage by some new absurdity, or until +the restless love of change is drawn off to some more +startling paradox. This insatiable thirst for novelty is +carried into literature as well as other things. But the +principles of good taste are unchangeable. They have +their foundations deeply laid in nature and truth, and +the tide of time which sweeps into oblivion the sickly +illusions of distempered imaginations, passes over these +unhurt. The Bavii and Maevii of former ages, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +like those of later times enjoyed for their hour the +sunshine of fashionable celebrity, have been long ago +gathered to their long home, but the beauties of Homer +and Virgil are as fresh now as they were at the beginning. +Independent of the arguments commonly used +in favor of classical learning, there are two considerations +which recommend these studies to peculiar favor +in this country. I advert to them the more willingly, +because they have not been usually urged in proportion +to their importance.</p> + +<p>The first is addressed to our literary ambition. If +there be any department of elegant literature in which +we may hope to surpass our European ancestors and +cotemporaries, it is in eloquence. It is the fairest and +most hopeful field which now remains for literary distinction. +In every other the moderns, if they have not +equalled, are not far behind the ancients. Their poetry +can scarcely claim an advantage over that of the +moderns, except what it owes directly to the superiority +of the ancient languages. But if we except some of +the finest productions of the French pulpit in the reign +of Louis XIV. there is nothing in modern literature +which approaches the eloquence of antiquity. The +most accomplished of our forensic and parliamentary +speakers are at an immeasurable distance from the +perfection of the ancient orators. If there be any +modern nation, which may hope to emulate them with +some prospect of success, it is our own. In our free +institutions and in the free genius of our countrymen +we have all that is necessary. The soil is prepared +and we are already a nation of debaters. But if we +would add to the faculty of fluent speaking the gifts of +eloquence, these must be sought where the ancients +found them, in a patient and persevering devotion to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +the art. We must be made sensible both of its dignity +and its difficulty, and nothing can so effectually give +us this knowledge as a familiar acquaintance with the +inimitable remains of the orators of Greece and Rome.</p> + +<p>The second consideration is of a political character. +The feudal governments of Europe may have an interest +in discouraging a taste for these studies. The literature +of antiquity, in its prevailing tone and character, +is deeply impregnated with the free spirit of the age in +which it was produced. Nothing can be more repugnant +to that temper of patient servility which it is the +policy of such governments to foster. Nothing can +more powerfully invigorate those generous feelings +which are inspired by the consciousness of freedom, +than a familiarity with the historians and orators of +Greece and Rome. There is an uncompromising +spirit of liberty breathing its divine inspirations over +every page, wholly irreconcilable with that courtly +suppleness which is adapted to the genius of these governments. +These proud republicans had no superstitious +veneration for anointed heads. They were accustomed +to behold suppliant royalty trembling in the +antichambers of their Senate, or its haughty spirit still +more humbled in swelling the triumphal pomp of their +generals and consuls. These sights served to nourish +a profound feeling of the dignity, which is attached to +the person of a freeman, a feeling more deeply engraved +on the spirit of antiquity than any other sentiment +of the heart. It seems to have constituted the very +soul of their genius, and it breathes its sacred fires +through every ramification of their literature. So intimately +was it incorporated with the very elements of +their intellectual nature, that nothing could extinguish +it short of those calamities which spread their deadly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +mildews over the fires of genius itself. After the constitutional +liberty of the country sunk under the weight +of military despotism, its scattered flames still broke +out at intervals in the few great men who arose to +throw a gleam of brightness over the surrounding +gloom. It shewed itself in the pathetic and affecting +complaints of Tacitus, and burst forth in the bitter and +indignant sarcasms of Juvenal. The venerable father +of song declared in prophetic numbers that the first +day of servitude robbed man of half his virtue, and +Longinus, the last of the ancient race of great men, +holds up the lights of fifteen centuries experience to +verify the words of the poet. It is democracy, says +he, that is the propitious nurse of great talents, and it +is only in democracy that they flourish. Let the minions +of legitimacy then extinguish if they can the emulation +of ancient eloquence; it is their most dangerous +enemy; but let us, who inherit the liberties of the ancient +republics, cherish it with a sacred devotion. It +is at once the child and the champion of freedom.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="RELIGION" id="RELIGION"></a>RELIGION.</h2> + +<h3>By Jason Whitman.</h3> + + +<p>Religion, as introduced to us by our Saviour, attracts +our attention and enlists our affections, not by any +solemn pomp or formal parade, but by her beautiful +and interesting simplicity, her real and intrinsic worth. +Nor has she been introduced to us, merely that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +may dwell in our temples to be gazed at from a distance +and occasionally adored. No. She has been +introduced to us, that we might take her familiarly by +the hand, conduct her into our houses and seat her by +our firesides,—not as an occasional visitor there, but as +an intimate friend—perfectly free and unreserved, ever +ready to lend her aid in making home the abode of +happiness, or to go forth with us and assist in elevating +and purifying the pleasures and the intercourse of social +life; ever ready to assist in the various labors of life—to +guide and cheer the conversation—to bend over the +bed of sickness, or to mingle her sympathies with those +who are mourning. It is her office to elevate and improve +mankind, not by looking down upon them from +above, but by dwelling familiarly and habitually among +them, restraining, by the respect which her presence +inspires, every thing impure and unholy, until she has +awakened aspirations after the pure, the holy, the spiritual, +the infinite and eternal. Such was the Christian +Religion as introduced to us by our Saviour. Would +that she might ever remain such, an inmate of our +houses, a member of our family circles, whose form +and features are familiar to our children, and for whom +their attachment grows with their growth and strengthens +with their strength. But such have not, it would +seem, been the feelings of mankind in regard to her. +They, filled with admiration, perhaps, for her excellence, +and fearing, lest she might be treated with rude +familiarity, have thought to add to her dignity and to +increase the respect entertained for her, by enveloping +her in the folds of unintelligible mysteries, and by suffering +her to be approached only in a formal manner, +upon the set days when and the appointed places where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +she holds her levees. The consequences of this have +been such as might have been expected. While there +are multitudes of admirers of Religion, as one of a +higher order of beings altogether above and beyond +themselves, there are few who make her the companion +of their daily walk—few who take her to themselves +and, in the firm conviction that they were made for +each other, leave all things else, cleave unto and become +one with her.</p> + +<p>Would that we might all embrace Christianity as she +is in herself—as she was introduced to us by our Saviour, +in all her simplicity—in all her purity—that we +might make her the companion of our lives—the friend +of our hearts. She is one, who will with readiness +accompany us wherever we go—pointing out to us the +way of our duty and the sources of our happiness. +Are we children she will teach us the duties of children. +Are we parents she will instruct us in our duties +as parents. In prosperity she will increase our happiness—in +adversity she will sweeten our cup—in sickness +she will alleviate our pains, and, when called +away by the stern summons of death, she will accompany +us and introduce us into the society of heaven +with which she is intimate—the society of our God—of +Jesus our Saviour—and of the spirits of the just made +perfect, concerning whom she has often conversed with +us, making us acquainted with their principles, feelings +and characters, and exerting within us a desire to be +with them.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_DESERTED_WIFE" id="THE_DESERTED_WIFE"></a>THE DESERTED WIFE.</h2> + +<h3>By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Like ivy, woman's love will cling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too often round a worthless thing.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Immediately after the horrid murder of young Darnley, +Mary of Scotland removed from the scene of his +death to Sterling, ostensibly on a visit to her infant son. +Thither she was followed by all the gay members of +her court, among whom were the Earl of Bothwell and +Balfour, the suspected murderers. A short time previous +to this journey Mary had received a letter from +one of her subjects in the north, strenuously recommending +a young and interesting female to her protection, +who, as the letter stated, had especial reasons for +sojourning awhile in the neighborhood of the court. +Mary with her usual benevolence kindly received the +lovely stranger, and was so won by her grace and +melancholy beauty, that with the thoughtlessness of her +impulsive character, she installed her in the royal +household and admitted her to the closest intimacy of +mistress and servant. Her affections daily increased +for one of whom she knew nothing, except that she +was reported to have sprung from a noble but impoverished +family, and had been drawn to court by her interest +in a dear relation, or perhaps lover. The queen +did not trouble herself to inquire into particulars, at a +time when her own affairs not only engrossed her +thoughts, but the attention of all Europe. Certain it +was, that whatever had drawn Ellen Craigh to the Scottish +court, it was no desire to partake of its pleasures.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +Though she occasionally mingled with the ladies of +Mary's household, and even listened with silent interest +to the scandal which recent events had given rise to, she +sedulously secluded herself from the gallants of the +court, and on no occasion had been known to leave the +immediate apartment of the queen, except for a short +space each day, when the relative who had drawn her +from home might be supposed to occupy her attention.</p> + +<p>On the day our story commences, Throgmorton, the +English ambassador, had arrived at Sterling with despatches, +which had been forwarded from London after +the first news of young Darnley's death reached the +court of St. James. Mary, eager to conciliate the imperious +Elizabeth, had ordered an entertainment to be +made in honor of her ambassador, and yielding to his +first request, or rather demand for an audience, had +been more than an hour closetted with him, in the little +oratory which communicated alike with her audience-room +and sleeping chamber.</p> + +<p>The hour for robing had long passed, and Ellen +Craigh was alone in the royal bed-chamber, waiting +the appearance of her mistress. She might have been +taken for a sorrowing angel, as she sat in the embrasure +of a window, with the mellow-tinted light streaming +through the stained glass over her tresses of waving +gold, and flooding her small and exquisite figure with +a brilliancy almost too gorgeous to harmonize with the +delicate cheek and sorrowful blue eyes, which, at the +moment, wore an expression of suffering which nothing +on earth can represent, so patient and holy was it. +She continued in one position, listlessly swaying the +cord of twisted gold, which looped back the curtain +falling in magnificent volumes over the upper part of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +the window, or pulling the threads from a massive +tassel and scattering them one by one at her feet, till +the carpet around looked as if embroidered over and +over with the glittering fragments. The indistinct +voices which came from the oratory, where the queen +and the ambassador were seated, fell unheeded upon +her senses, till a tone was mingled with theirs which +started her to sudden life. She leaped up with an +energy that sent the mutilated tassel with a crash +against the window, and flinging back the tapestry +which concealed the door of the oratory, bent her eye +to a crevice in the ill-fitted pannel. The beating of +her heart was almost audible, and the thin slender hand +which held back the tapestry quivered like a newly +prisoned bird, as she gazed with intense eagerness into +the apartment. The queen sat directly opposite the +door. At her right hand was placed a dark handsome +man, of about thirty, with a haughty and almost fierce +array of countenance, dressed in a style of careless +magnificence, which bespoke a love of display rather +than true elegance in his choice of attire. A subdued +smile lurked about his lips, and he seemed intently +occupied in counting the links of a massive gold +chain, which fell over his doublet of three-piled velvet, +studded and gorgeously wrought with jewels and embroidery. +Now and then he would drop his hand +carelessly over the queen's chair-arm, and fix his black +eyes with a bold and admiring gaze on her features, with +a freedom which bespoke more of audacious love, than +of respect for the royal beauty. She not only submitted +to his free glance, but more than once returned it +with one of those looks which had scattered sorrow +through many a Scottish bosom.</p> + +<p>Throgmorton sat little apart. He had been speaking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +in a strain of calm expostulation; but marking the interchange +of glances between the queen and her haughty +favorite, he became indignant, and addressed Bothwell +with a degree of cutting contempt, which turned +the lurking smile on the nobleman's lip to a curl of +bitter defiance. Heedless of the royal presence, he +stood up, and rudely pushing the council-table from +before him, half drew his sword, as if to punish the +offender upon the spot. Throgmorton endured the +blaze of his large fierce eyes with calm composure, +and deliberately measuring his person from head to +foot with a contemptuous glance, was about to resume +his discourse; but the queen rose from her seat, and +placing her white and jewelled hand persuasively on +Bothwell's arm, she fixed her beautiful eyes full on +his, and uttered a few low words of entreaty; then +turning to the envoy, her exquisite face flushed with anger +and her eyes flashing like diamonds, she exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Leave our presence, sir ambassador, and thank +our moderation that thou art permitted to depart in +safety, after this insult to our most trusty and faithful +follower! Nay, my lord of Bothwell, put thy hand +from that sword-hilt—this matter rests with us—doubt +not, thy honor as well as that of thy mistress shall be +duly righted."</p> + +<p>The frowning nobleman pushed back his blade with +a clang, and turned moodily away.</p> + +<p>The queen looked on him gravely for a moment, and +then turning to the Englishman proceeded with less of +vehemence than had accompanied her last command.</p> + +<p>"The message of our loving cousin has given us a +surfeit of advice. To-morrow we will resume the +subject," she said, forcing one of the resistless smiles,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +which she could call up at will, to brighten her lips; +and with a graceful wave of the hand, she motioned +him to withdraw.</p> + +<p>The envoy bowed low and left the room without +further speech. But the door was scarcely closed, +when, with sudden self-abandonment, the queen threw +herself into her chair, and burst into a passion of tears. +Bothwell, who was angrily pacing the room, approached, +and sinking to one knee took her hand tenderly in his. +She looked at him a moment through her tears, murmured +a few broken words, and dropping her face to +his shoulder, wept bitterly.</p> + +<p>Poor Ellen Craigh witnessed the whole scene. She +heard Bothwell's expressions of soothing endearment, +and saw the beautiful head, with its garniture of brown +tresses, fall with such helpless dependence on his shoulder. +A moment, and the queen drew the snowy +hand, sparkling with tears and jewels, from her eyes, +and sat upright. With a choking sensation the poor +girl gazed on that face, in its transcendent loveliness, +till a mist gathered before her eyes, and the words of +Bothwell came broken and confusedly to her ear. +When they left the oratory a few moments after, her +hand fell nerveless to her side, the tapestry swept over +the door with a rustling sound, and staggering a few +paces into the chamber, she fell her whole length upon +the carpet, her golden hair sweeping back from her +bloodless forehead, her pale lips trembling and her +slight limbs as strengthless as an infant's. Thus she +lay for a time, and then tears gushed profusely from +her shut eyes. After which she arose to a sitting +posture, with her feeble hands twisted the scattered +ringlets round her head, and arose; but so pale, so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +wo-begone, her very heart seemed crushed forever. +Dragging herself to her favorite seat in the embrasure +of a window, she leaned her temple against the stained +glass, and murmured—</p> + +<p>"Enough!—oh, enough!—I must go home now." +But while the words of misery trembled on her lips, the +door was flung open, and Mary Stewart entered the +apartment. The room was misty with the purple +glow of sunset, and the queen passed her shrinking +attendant without observing her. Hastily advancing to +a table, she took up a golden bird-call, and blew a peremptory +summons; then throwing herself into a chair +which stood opposite a small table, on which glittered the +splendid paraphernalia of a French toilette, she waited +the appearance of her attendants. Ellen Craigh made a +strong effort and arose.</p> + +<p>"Ha, art thou there, my mountain-daisy?" said the +queen, looking kindly upon her,—"order lights, and +send back the flock of tire-women my silly whistle +has brought trooping hitherward—no hands but thine +shall robe me to night."</p> + +<p>Ellen obeyed, and after a few moments the light +from two large candles of perfumed wax broke over +the little mirror, with its framework of filigree silver, +and flashed upon the golden essence-bottles and scattered +jewels which covered the dressing-table. The +poor waiting-maid drew back from the brilliant glare +with the shudder of a sick heart. The queen looked +on her earnestly for a moment, and then putting the +golden locks back from her temple, as she would have +caressed a child, she said—</p> + +<p>"What!—cheeks like new-fallen snow!—lips trembling +like the aspen!—and eye-lashes heavy with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +tears!—how is this, child?—but we bethink us;—was +it not some untoward affair of the heart which brought +thee to our court? We have been too negligent;—tell +us thy grief, and on the honor of a queen, if there +be wrong we will have thee bravely righted—so speak +freely."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no!—not here!—<i>never to you</i>."</p> + +<p>Here poor Ellen broke off and stood before the +queen, her hands clasped, her lips trembling and her +large supplicating eyes fixed imploringly on her face.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," said the queen soothingly, "at some +other time be it—but remember that in Mary Stewart +her attendant may find a safe friend as well as an +indulgent mistress," and shaking her magnificent tresses +over her shoulders, the royal beauty composed herself +for the operations of the toilette.</p> + +<p>Ellen gathered up the glossy volumes of hair and +commenced her task. Her limbs shook, a cold moisture +crept over her forehead, and her quivering hands +wandered with melancholy listlessness, through the +mass of shining ringlets it was her duty to arrange. +As she stooped forward in her task, one of her own +fair curls fell down and mingled, like a flash of spun +gold, with those of her mistress. As if there had been +contagion in the touch, she flung it back with a smile +of strange, cold bitterness, the first and last that ever +wreathed her pure lips; for hers was a heart to suffer +and endure, but never to hate; it might break, but no +wrong could harden it.</p> + +<p>While her toilette was in progress, Mary became +nervous and restless, now pushing the velvet cushions +from her feet, and then moving the lights about the +dressing-table, as if dissatisfied with the arrangement of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +every thing about her. At length she fell back in her +chair, buried her face in her hands, and fairly burst +into tears. Ellen grasped the back of her chair, and +bending her pale face to the queen's ear, murmured—</p> + +<p>"Tears are for the deserted—why does the queen +weep?"</p> + +<p>Mary was too deeply engrossed with her own feelings +to mark the exact words, or the tremulous voice +of her attendant. She threw the damp hair back from +her face, and dashing the tears from her eyes exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"No, no! it is nothing—proceed—there! let that +ringlet fall thus upon the neck—now our robe, quickly—we +shall be waited for at the banquet."</p> + +<p>Ellen brought forth the usual mourning robe of black +velvet, laden with bugles; but a flush of anger, or perhaps +of shame, overspread the queen's face, and with +an impatient gesture she exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"Not that, girl—not that—I will mock my heart no +longer!—away with it, and bring a more seemly garment!—the +proud Englishman shall not scoff at our +widow's weeds again."</p> + +<p>Ellen obeyed, and the queen was soon robed as she +had desired. Few objects could have been more beautiful +than this dangerous woman, when she arose from +her toilette—the perfect, yet almost voluptuous proportion +of her form betrayed by the snowy robe, her tapering +arms banded with jewels, and her superb waist +bound with a string of immense pearls, clasped in front +by a single diamond, and terminating where the broidery +of her robe commenced, in tassels of threaded +pearls. A tiara of small Scottish thistles, crowded amethysts +and rough emeralds, burned with a purple light<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +among her curls, and the face beneath seemed scarcely +human, so radiant was its expression, and so beautiful +the perfect harmony of its features. Throwing a +careless glance at the mirror—for Mary was too confident +of her attraction to be fastidious—she took up +her perfumed handkerchief and left the room.</p> + +<p>Ellen Craigh gazed after her sovereign till the last +graceful wave of her drapery disappeared; then drawing +a deep breath, as if her heart had thrown off an +oppression quite insupportable, she cast a glance almost +of loathing around the sumptuous apartment, and +entered the oratory. Dropping on her knees by the +chair which Bothwell had occupied, she laid her cheek +on the cushion and wept long and freely, as if the contact +with something <i>he</i> had touched had a softening influence +on her heart. As she arose, the gleam of a +handkerchief lying on the floor attracted her attention. +She snatched it up with a faint cry of joy, for on one +corner she found embroidered an earl's coronet and +the crest of Bothwell. Eagerly thrusting the prize into +her bosom, she left the oratory and passed into the +open street.</p> + +<p>It was midnight when Mary Stewart returned to her +chamber. The lights were burning dimly on the table, +and an air of gloomy grandeur filled the apartment. +The queen was evidently much distressed; a +deep glow was burning on her cheek, and her usually +smiling eyes were full of a strange excitement. She +snatched up the little golden call as if to give a summons, +and then flung it down again, exclaiming—</p> + +<p>"No, no—I could not brook their searching eyes," +and with a still more disturbed air she paced the chamber, +now and then stopping to divest herself of the ornaments +she had worn at the ambassador's festival.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> + +<p>Perhaps for the first time in her life the agitated +woman unrobed herself, and flinging back the crimson +drapery which fell in heavy masses from the large +square bedstead, threw herself upon the gorgeous +counterpane and buried herself in the folds, as if they +could shut out the evil thoughts that burned in her +heart; but it was in vain that she strove for rest—that +she gathered the rich drapery over her head and +pressed her burning cheek to the pillow; her thoughts +were all alive and astray.</p> + +<p>It was a mournful sight—that beautiful and brilliant +woman yielding herself to the thraldom of a wicked +man, and rushing heedlessly to that which was to +throw a stain upon her memory, enduring as history +itself. Sin is hideous in every form—but when it +darkens the bright and beautiful of earth, like a cloud +over the sun, we reproach it for its own blackness, and +doubly for the brightness it conceals.</p> + +<p>As the misguided woman lay, with a hand pressed +over her eyes, and one arm, but half divested of its +jewels, flung out with a kind of desperate carelessness +upon the counterpane, the murmur of an infant voice +reached her from a neighboring apartment. She started +up and tears gathered in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Woe is me!" she exclaimed, "this mad passion +makes me forgetful alike of prayer and child."</p> + +<p>Folding a dressing-gown about her, she entered the +room whence the sound had come, and reappeared +with an infant boy pressed to her bosom. After kissing +him again and again with a sort of despairing fondness, +she bore him to a recess where a small lamp of +chased silver burned before a crucifix of the same metal, +and an embroidered hassock was placed as if for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +devotion. Had she been left alone in the holy stillness +of the night, with her lovely babe upon her bosom, +and the touching symbol of our Saviour's death +before her, the evil influence which was hurrying her +on to ruin might have been counterbalanced; but as +she knelt with the smiling babe lying on the hassock, +her eyes fixed on the crucifix, and the guilty glow ebbing +from her cheeks, the door softly opened, and +the Earl of Bothwell stole into the chamber. Mary +sprang to her feet as if to reprove the insolent intruder, +but a sense of modesty, which in all her follies seemed +never to have left her, succeeded to her indignation, if +indeed she felt any. She glanced at her dishabille +with a painful flush, and hastily seating herself, drew +her uncovered feet, which had been hastily thrust into +a pair of furred slippers, under the folds of her dressing +gown, and then requested him to withdraw, in a +voice which betrayed as much of encouragement as +of reproof.</p> + +<p>Without even noticing her request, Bothwell lifted +the boy from the hassock, and seating himself, addressed +her in a low and gentle tone, which he knew well +how to assume. The erring woman listened to the +witchery of his voice, till the unnatural glow again <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'died her cheek'">died from +her cheek</ins>, and she sat with her eyes fixed on his, as a +beautiful bird yielding to the fascination of a serpent.</p> + +<p>"But thy wife," she said in a low irresolute tone, +when Bothwell pressed for a reply to what he had been +urging, "much as Mary may love—much as she may +sacrifice, she cannot thrust a young and loving woman +from a heart she loves and puts her faith in."</p> + +<p>"Young and loving!" repeated Bothwell, with a +sneer curling his haughty lip, "young and loving!—truly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +your grace must have been strangely misinformed;—she +who styles herself Countess of Bothwell +nearly doubles the age of her unfortunate husband; and +as for love, if she knows any, it is for the broad acres +which own him as their master."</p> + +<p>A scarcely perceptible smile dimpled the queen's +mouth, as she heard this account of her rival, but she +made no reply, and Bothwell resumed his tone of earnest +entreaty. As he proceeded, his voice and manner +became more energetic.</p> + +<p>"Say that you consent," he said, "say but a word, +and the breath of evil shall never reach you;—say but +your hand is mine as a token of assent, and Bothwell +will worship you like a very slave."</p> + +<p>The queen raised her hand, and though it trembled +like an aspen, she placed it in his.</p> + +<p>"It is thy queen who is the slave," she murmured +in a broken voice, as Bothwell raised the beautiful +hand to his lips, and covered it with rapturous kisses.</p> + +<p>As he relinquished her hand, it came in contact with +that of the child. As if an adder had stung her, she +drew it back, and then with a sudden gush of feeling +snatched the boy to her bosom and covered it with tears +and kisses. Bothwell dreaded the influence of the pure +maternal feeling thus expressed. Gently forcing the +young prince from her embrace, he whispered—</p> + +<p>"Trust him to me, dearest—trust him to one who +would spill his heart's blood, rather than give pain to +mother or child," and pressing her hand again to his +lips, the arch-hypocrite left the room with the same +cautious tread he had entered it with.</p> + +<p>In a few moments after, he placed the young prince +in charge with a creature in his confidence, saying—</p> + +<p>"See to it, that none of the Darnley faction get possession<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +of the brat,—keep him safe, or strangle him at +once."</p> + +<p>On the next day the Earl of Bothwell left Sterling, +and it was whispered that he had been banished from +court through the influence of the English ambassador; +but conjecture was lost in astonishment, and when, two +days after, the court at Sterling was broken up, and +the queen, while on her way to Edinburgh, was met +by Bothwell, with a force of eight hundred men, and +conveyed to Dunbar by seeming violence, men stood +aghast at the news; but those who had marked their +queen closely during the few preceding days, concurred +in the belief that she privately sanctioned the disgraceful +outrage.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was a gloomy and ancient pile—that in which +Bothwell had left his deserted wife. In one of its +apartments, beside a huge fire-place, in which a few +embers smouldered in a sea of ashes, sat an old and +wrinkled woman, spreading her withered palms for +warmth, and occasionally turning a wistful look to the +narrow windows, against which the rain and sleet were +beating with real violence. As she listened, the tramp +of approaching horses was heard in the court below, +and before she had time to reach the door, it was flung +open, and the Countess of Bothwell, dripping with wet +and tottering with fatigue, flung herself into the arms +of her old nurse.</p> + +<p>"Sorrow on me," exclaimed the good woman, striving +to speak cheerful, "how the child clings to my +neck!—look up, lady-bird, and do not sob so—I know +but too well how thy journey has speeded—may the +curses of an old woman rest——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Mabel, Mabel, do not curse him—do not—we +cannot love as we will," exclaimed the poor countess, +clinging to the bosom of the old woman, as if to bribe +her from finishing the anathema.</p> + +<p>"Hush, darling, hush," replied old Mabel, pressing +her withered lips fondly to the pure forehead of her +foster-child—"he who could help loving thee——but +hist, what is all this tramping in the court?—sit down, +and I will soon learn."</p> + +<p>The old woman divested the trembling young creature +of her wet cloak and proceeded to the hall. After +a few minutes absence she returned dreadfully agitated; +her sunken eyes glowed like live coals, and her +bony fingers were clenched together as a bird clutches +her prey.</p> + +<p>"My own darling," she said in a voice which she +vainly strove to render steady, "I had thought not to +have given his cruel message, but——"</p> + +<p>"Speak on," said the poor young creature, raising +her large eyes with the expression of a scared antelope, +"I can bear any thing now."</p> + +<p>But she broke off with a sudden and joyful cry, for +the door had been cautiously opened, and her long +absent husband stood before her. Forgetful of his +estrangement—of his unkindness—of every thing but +his early love—she sprang eagerly to his bosom and +kissed him again and again, with the abandonment of +a joyful child. It must have been a heart of stone +which could have resisted such unbounded tenderness. +For one moment, and but for one, she was pressed to +her husband's heart, and then he put her coldly away.</p> + +<p>"How is it that I find your lady here, after my +express command to the contrary?" he said, sternly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +addressing the old nurse, while he forced the clinging +arms of the countess from his neck.</p> + +<p>The poor young creature shrunk from his look, like +a flower touched by a sudden frost. Mabel threw her +arm around her, and forced her to confront her angry +husband.</p> + +<p>"Why is she here!" shouted the old woman fiercely, +"why is she here, in her own home!—because I +could not, would not kill her with her base lord's message!—What! +break her heart, and then thrust her +forth to die?—Villain!—double-dyed and cowardly +villain!—may the curses of a——"</p> + +<p>Before the old woman could finish her anathema, +the enraged Earl had stricken her grey head to the +floor. The frightened countess fell on her knees beside +her; but, with a terrible imprecation, Bothwell commanded +his attendants to bear his victim from the room, +and sternly ordered his trembling wife to remain.</p> + +<p>"As you are here," he said, "it is not essential that +we meet again; your signature is necessary to this +paper; please to affix it without useless delay."</p> + +<p>The countess took the paper, which was a petition +to the Commissariot-Court for a divorce from her husband. +Before she had read the first line, every drop +of blood ebbed from her face. She did not faint, but +with a degree of energy foreign to her character, +she grasped the paper in her hands, as if about to tear +it. The Earl seized her wrist, and fiercely demanded +her signature.</p> + +<p>"Never—<i>never</i>!" exclaimed the poor wife, struggling +in his grasp—"Oh, Bothwell, you cannot wish +it—you that so loved me—you that promised to love +me forever and ever—no, no! you do not mean it—you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +cannot put your poor wife away thus!—I know +that the little beauty you once prized is gone, but tears +and sorrow have dimmed it;—bear with me but a little +longer—say that you love me yet, and my bloom will +come again;—look at me, Bothwell, husband, <i>dear</i> +husband! and say that you did not mean it—that you +gave me that horrid paper to frighten me—say but +that, and your poor Ellen will worship you forever!"</p> + +<p>This energetic appeal had its effect, even in the hard +hearted Earl. He endured, and even partially returned +the passionate caress with which she had accompanied +her words; and when she fell back exhausted +in his arms, he bore her to a seat and placed himself +beside her.</p> + +<p>"Ellen," he said, "I will deal candidly with you—I +<i>do</i> love you, and have, even while in pursuit of another; +but you have yet to learn that there is a stronger +passion than love—<i>ambition</i>!"</p> + +<p>"You do love me—bless you, bless you! Bothwell, +for saying so much," she eagerly exclaimed, the affectionate +young creature snatching his hand between both +hers, and covering it with joyful kisses.</p> + +<p>But her joy was of short duration. As the serpent +uncoils its glittering folds, so did Bothwell lay bare the +depravity and ambition of his heart. Artifice, persuasion +and threats were used, and at length he prevailed. +The petition for a divorce was signed; but the heart of +the poor countess was broken by the effort.</p> + +<p>It is almost useless to tell the reader, that the queen +of Scots had consented to accompany Bothwell to his +castle, but with the appearance of compulsion, on the +night of his intrusion into her chamber. It was to prepare +for the disgraceful visit, that he had sent orders +for the expulsion of his unfortunate wife—orders which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +old Mabel had never delivered; and now that he had +gained his object, in obtaining her signature to the petition, +he proceeded to give directions for the castle to +be put in order, for the reception of the royal guest. +These arrangements occupied him during most of the +night. At length, weary with exertion, he fell asleep +in his chair. It was morning when he awoke. The +light came softly through a neighboring window, and +there, at his feet, with her head resting on his knees, +and her thin, pale face turned toward him, lay his wife, +asleep. Rest had quieted his ambitious thoughts. He +was alone, in the stillness of a new day, with the gentle +victim of his aspiring passions lying at his feet, +grieved and heart-broken, her eyelids heavy with weeping, +and every limb betraying the sorrow which preyed +upon her. For a moment his heart relented, and a hot +tear fell among her golden curls. Gently, as a mother +would remove a sleeping infant, he raised her head, +laid it on the cushion of his chair, and left her to her +loneliness.</p> + +<p>On the next day the Countess of Bothwell left the +castle with her nurse, and not three hours after, Mary +Stewart entered it in company with its wicked lord.</p> + +<p>On the fourth day of Mary's sojourn at Dunbar, she, +with the ladies of her train, joined in a stag hunt, which +the Earl had ordered for their entertainment. The +excitement of the chase had drawn Bothwell, for a +moment, from her bridal rein, when an old woman +came from a neighboring hut, and in a few ungracious +words, invited the queen to rest a while. Mary gracefully +accepted the offered courtesy, and some of her +attendants would have followed her to the hut; but the +old woman motioned them back with a haughty wave +of her hand, and conducted the queen alone. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +was no vestige of furniture in the room, except two +small stools and a narrow bed, on which the outlines +of a human form were visible. Grasping the queen's +hand firmly in her own, the old woman drew her to the +bed, and throwing back a sheet, pointed with her long +fleshless finger to the form of a shrouded female.</p> + +<p>"Look!" she sternly exclaimed, fixing her keen eyes +on the face of the queen.</p> + +<p>Mary looked with painful interest on the thin face, +as white and cold as alabaster, with the golden hair +parted from the pure forehead, and a holy quiet settled +on every beautiful feature. White roses were scattered +over the pillow, and the repose of the dead was +heavenly. Mary bent over the corpse, and her tears +fell fast and thick among the fresh flowers.</p> + +<p>"Alas, my poor Ellen!" she said, turning to the +woman, who stood like a statue pointing sternly to the +body, "of what did she die?"</p> + +<p>"Of a broken heart!" replied the nurse coldly, and +with the same icy composure which had marked her +conduct, she led her royal visitor to the door, without +speaking another word.</p> + +<p>Had she explained that Ellen Craigh and the Countess +of Bothwell were the same person, regret for the +evil she had wrought might have checked Mary in her +career of folly. But the death of the deserted wife +was kept a secret among the few faithful followers who +had accompanied her in her wild expedition to Mary's +court, and the nurse, on whose bosom she had yielded +up her life. While the courts of Scotland were agitated +with the divorce of Bothwell, the haughty man +little knew that his gentle wife had ceased to feel his +cruelty.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Psalm lxxxvii, 2.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Psalm lxxxvii, 7.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> From the papers of Dr. Tonic, recently brought to light.</p></div> + +</div> + + +<div class="transnote"> +<h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Unusual spellings retained, but obvious spelling and punctuation errors +were fixed.</p> + +<p>Contraction variants retained, notably in "Jack Downing's Visit to +Portland," as features of narrator dialect.</p> + +<p>In several stories, notably "Courtship" and "Descriptions of the Divine +Being," the use of quotation marks was inconsistent, and has been +standardized. This required the addition of quotation marks in several +places. Where the non-use of quotation marks was consistent within a +story, no changes were made.</p> + +<p>Contents: Preface is on P. iii, not "7"(original); both "M--" in Contents +and "M***" on poem heading retained; "Deserted Wife" P. 272 is +correct--retained original placement above "Portland as it Was" in +Contents (author name starts with "S").</p> + +<p>P. 13, "sum of $1,363,589,69,--" Number appears incomplete, but is +consistent with a separate publication of this article ["A Modest +Estimate of Our Own Country," in "The Americans at home; or Byeways, +backwoods, and prairies, ed. by the author of 'Sam Slick'," London: +Hurse and Blackett Publishers, 1854] which reads (on P. 125) "sum of +1,363,589,69 dollars,--"</p> + +<p>P. 34, "disapprobation run" changed to "disapprobation ran."</p> +<p>P. 41, "guana" retained. Less-used alternate spelling for "iguana."</p> +<p>P. 91, "Illiad" retained. Consistent with quote reference that follows.</p> + +<p>P. 115, "fourth-coming" changed to "forth-coming."</p> +<p>P. 259, "full muturity" changed to "full maturity."</p> +<p>P. 282, "died her cheek" changed to "died from her cheek."</p> + +<p>Hyphen variants retained when consistent within story. Otherwise corrected to +majority use in story. Variants retained due to different stories or lack of +majority in same story: birth-day and birthday, broad-side and broadside, +companion-way and companionway, grave-yard and graveyard, juxta-position and +juxtaposition, look-out and lookout, noon-day and noonday, over-flowing and +overflowing, rain-bow and rainbow, re-appeared and reappeared, sky-sail and +skysail, stair-way and stairway, steam-boats and steamboats, sun-light and +sunlight.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Portland Sketch Book, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PORTLAND SKETCH BOOK *** + +***** This file should be named 39278-h.htm or 39278-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/2/7/39278/ + +Produced by Roberta Staehlin, JoAnn Greenwood, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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