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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aa7656b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69111 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69111) diff --git a/old/69111-0.txt b/old/69111-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 06ac4c6..0000000 --- a/old/69111-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7712 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of A gallop among American scenery, by -Augustus E. Silliman - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: A gallop among American scenery - or, Sketches of American scenes and military adventure - -Author: Augustus E. Silliman - -Release Date: October 7, 2022 [eBook #69111] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GALLOP AMONG AMERICAN -SCENERY *** - - - - - - - A - GALLOP - AMONG - AMERICAN SCENERY: - OR, - SKETCHES - OF - AMERICAN SCENES AND MILITARY ADVENTURE - - BY - AUGUSTUS E. SILLIMAN. - - [Illustration] - - NEW-YORK: - D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY. - - PHILADELPHIA: - GEO. S. APPLETON, 148 CHESNUT STREET. - - M DCCC XLIII. - - Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, - BY D. APPLETON AND CO., - In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Southern - District of New-York. - - H. LUDWIG, PRINTER, - 72 Vesey-st., N. Y. - - - - - TO - BENJAMIN D. SILLIMAN, - THIS - LITTLE VOLUME - IS - AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, - BY - HIS BROTHER. - - - - -A number of the following Sketches have appeared at intervals in the -columns of the New-York American. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - I. BANKS OF THE POTOMAC 1 - - II. THE COUNTRY PASTOR 8 - - III. MOUNT VERNON 13 - - IV. MEDICAL STUDENT 25 - - V. THE RESURRECTIONISTS 39 - - VI. OLD KENNEDY, NO. I. 44 - - VII. OLD KENNEDY, NO. II. 53 - - VIII. OLD KENNEDY, NO. III. 59 - - IX. OLD KENNEDY, NO. IV. 68 - - X. LEE’S PARTISAN LEGION 78 - - XI. HUDSON RIVER 107 - - XII. NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE 113 - - XIII. BATTLE OF LUNDY’S LANE 120 - - XIV. LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA 131 - - XV. MONTREAL 139 - - XVI. THE NUN 144 - - XVII. CATARACTS OF NIAGARA 148 - - XVIII. MOUNT HOLYOKE 155 - - XIX. WHITE MOUNTAINS 160 - - XX. BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT 169 - - XXI. BRENTON’S REEF 176 - - XXII. OLD TRINITY STEEPLE 185 - - XXIII. LONG ISLAND SOUND 201 - - XXIV. GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY 220 - - APPENDIX 233 - - - - -BANKS OF THE POTOMAC. - - -No.—State-street—(storm without)—apartment strewed with sundry bachelor -appurtenances, fronting on the Battery—a gentleman, in dressing-gown and -embroidered slippers, measuring the room with hasty strides—exclaimeth -impatiently— - -North-east by the flags of the shipping in the bay! North-east by the -chill rain dashing on the window panes! North-east by the weather-cocks -on all the steeples, from St. Paul’s to the dog-vane on the stable end! -_North-east_ by the ache of every bone in my body! Eheu! What’s to be -done? No going abroad in this torrent. I’ve read all the landlady’s -little library. How shall I kill the enemy? I’ll whistle; vulgar. Sing; -I can’t. There are the foils and the gloves. Pshaw! I have no friend to -pommel or pink; besides, the old lady in the room below, has nerves. -Whew! how it pours. I’ll—I’ll—stand and look out into the street. -Jupiter! how near the bread-cart came to going over the chimney sweep. -Poor Sooty—how he grins! He owes the worm no silk—whatever obligations -his rags may be under to the sheep. Poor fellow! Holloa! ho! blackey; -catch this quarter, and get you a hot breakfast. There goes that -confounded battery gate again! bang—bang—night and day. There’s never a -loafer takes his morning promenade, or even siesta on the grass, but must -needs follow his dirty face through that particular gate. - -Alas! me miserable. What shall I do? The spirit of ennui rides me as -thoroughly as did the “old man of the sea” Sinbad the sailor. Eh! they’re -the dumb bells. Diminish nervous excitability, by muscular exertion. -Good!—humph; and there’s the old lady’s nerves below. How the wind roars -and rumbles round the chimney tops. Rain—rain—rain. There! that tin spout -is choked, and the gutter is pouring over a young cataract. Oh! that I -were a newspaper carrier, or a whale—or the sea serpent, chasing the down -East fishermen—or—in short, any thing, so that I need not mind the wet. -Hum—hum—what shall I do? I have it. Eureka! I have it. I’ll sit down and -give my friend of the American an account of my last ramble. - -(Rolleth his chair up to the table at the fire—crosseth his legs on the -fender—and proceedeth to nib his pen.) Now for it. (Writes.) - - * * * * * - -You well recollect, my dear Mr. Editor, the arguments that I used, to -induce you to make a short journey to the South with me last summer; -and your answer, “I can’t leave the paper.” You well recollect that I -urged that we were not born to work alone; that life was short; that -sixteen or sixty, its term was but a flash; that we were rushing on -with increased velocity to that bourne, whose sands are marked, by -no returning foot-print—that bourne where the sceptre and diadem of -the monarch lie contemptuously hurled with the goad and chain of the -slave—where, their service ended, the broken wain of the yeoman, and the -grim cannon of the soldier, interlock their shattered wheels; the bayonet -and pruning-hook—the sword and the ploughshare rest without a name. You -well recollect that I reproached you, the rather, with too great love for -the green fields and giant elms around your cottage at Elizabethtown; -that I swore by my faith! and I believed in the doctrine of Pythagoras, -that I should look to see thy immortal part, transferred on its exit, -from its present habitation to one of those huge trees towering into the -blue ether; that there, in the sunny mornings of summer, for sonnets -which do enliven thy columns, I should hear the joyous call of the -robin—the shrill whistle of the scarlet oriole; for sparkling wit,—the -dew of night glittering on thy leaves in the early sunbeams; for wise -old saws, and dreamy legends, venerable moss gathering upon thy trunk -and branches, while, alike in the evening wind or howling blast, thou -shouldest stand firm against casuistry or dictation. “Wilt go? Wilt join -me?”—with soft persuasion murmured I. “The paper—the paper—the pa—per,” -quoth thou. “Presto,” quoth _I_—and without more ado started in my usual -heels-over-head fashion, alone on my journey. - -I swept over the broad breast of the Delaware-dashed down the enemy -insulted Chesapeake—bounded through the city of riots and beauty, and -came down on my feet at the cottage of my whole-souled friend, Tom B——, -on the banks of the Potomac. The afternoon of my arrival was warm and -still, and every thing in nature, even the birds, seemed wrapped in -indolent repose. Slowly sauntering through the long vistas of sycamores -and elms, which adorned the grounds in picturesque avenues, the airy East -Indian cottage of my friend suddenly broke upon my sight, peering from -a whole load of flowering vines and sweet briars, tall white lilies, -and moss roses, from thick beds of myrtle at their feet, climbing into -the half open lattices, while two towering pines almost crossed their -extended branches above its lowly roof. I stole quietly through the -open door, examining the choice Italian landscapes hanging upon the -walls of the airy grass-matted hall,—slid through the drawing-rooms, -stopping for a moment to scan the crouching Venus and dying Gladiator -on their pedestals; to admire the exquisite Magdalen of Carlo Dolce—the -lovely Claude, the Cenci, and Flora beneath their silken tassels,—and -coming out upon the verandah overlooking the river, suspended in his -grass hammock, found master Tom, enjoying his luxurious siesta. His -double-barrelled gun and game-bag—his linen shooting jacket, huge -sombrero, and hunting-boots, were tumbled promiscuously in one corner -of the piazza,—while half a dozen fine plover, turning up their plump -breasts, a partridge, and some score of yellow-legged snipe, with the -powder-flask and shot-belt, were thrown across the back of the rustic -settee, trophies of his morning’s sport, beneath which, with their noses -extended between their legs in like luxurious repose, lay the huge old -Newfoundlander, “Bernard,” and his favourite pointer, “Soho.” - -The mild breeze bore in the sweet perfume of the honey-suckle from a -neighbouring arbour, and the broad Potomac, stretched tranquilly onwards, -undisturbed save by the occasional jibe of the boom, or lazy creak of the -rudder of some craft, reflected with her white sails upon its surface. -The garden, with its white-gravelled walks, bordered with box, descended -in parterres to the river’s edge—an embroidered carpet of flowers; -and lemon and orange trees, released from their winter’s confinement, -displayed their golden fruit, hanging amid the green leaves in tempting -profusion. I bent over and looked into the hammock, and could not but -admire the serenity of the manly features, the measured heave of the -broad chest, and the masses of raven locks, playing around the white -forehead of the sleeper, as they were slowly lifted by the play of the -passing wind. I thought it were a sin to disturb him, so drawing out my -cigar case, I stretched myself on the settee at his side, complacently -reclining my head upon its arm. Whiles watching the blue smoke of my -“Regalia,” as it slowly wreathed and floated above my head—whiles -watching the still dreamy flow of the river—and whiles—if I must confess -it—cogitating which had been the wisest, myself the bachelor, or Tom the -married man,—Tom, myself, the dogs, forming a tolerably correct picture -of _still_ life,—a still life that remained unbroken for some half hour, -when through the glass door of the drawing-room a beautiful boy of three -or four years came galloping into the piazza, and bounding towards -the dogs, threw himself full length upon the shaggy Newfoundlander, -manfully striving to pull open his huge jaws with his little hands. The -Newfoundlander opening his eyes, saw me, and raising himself on his legs, -gave a low growl; while the child, relinquishing his hold upon the ears -to which he had clung, as the dog rose to his feet, came slowly up to -me, and placing his plump little hands upon my knee, looked curiously -and inquiringly into my face, his golden locks falling in a profusion -of ringlets down his superb sunburnt shoulders. I was charmed with the -confidence, and innocence, and sweetness beaming from his gaze, and -took him upon my knee, his hand playing with my watch guard, while his -beautiful blue eyes remained fixed in the same look of curious inquiry -on mine. I said it was a picture of _still_ life. Tom, aroused by the -dog, slowly lifted his head over the edge of the hammock, rubbed his -eyes as if uncertain whether he were in a dream, as I calmly and silently -returned his astonished gaze, and then, with a single swing, was at my -side, both of my hands clasped in his. The next moment, I fancy the -picture was other than _still_ life. - -Why should I tell you of the tea-table, loaded with delicacies in the -matted hall, as the soft evening sun-set poured its last rays through -it? of the symmetrical figure clad in snowy whiteness—the Grecian -features, the dark Andalusian eyes, beaming with kindness from behind -the glittering silver at its head? Why, that the youngster tied by the -handkerchief in the high chair at his mother’s side, pertinaciously -kicked his tiny red shoes about him in frolic glee, while my little -knight of the golden locks, did the duty of the trencher at his father’s -elbow? Why, that as the shades of evening faded into twilight, that the -young gentry were snugly ensconced in their little bed, the mother’s -soft cheek pressed against the forehead of the eldest as he lisped his -evening prayer? and why, as soon “like twin roses on one stalk,” as they -were wrapped in innocent slumber, we sat in the fading twilight, talking -over old scenes and boyish recollections, retracing our steps back to -those days which, softened by the lapse of time, appear divested of every -thing save brightness and sunshine? why but to tell you that we were -aroused from those retrospections, by the sound of the church-going bell, -musically chiming in the distance. - - - - -THE COUNTRY PASTOR. - - -The slow tolling—now almost dying away, and now striking more strongly -upon the ear—arose from the church in the neighbouring town, where my -friends were in the habit of worshipping, and where they were to have the -opportunity on that evening of hearing the voice of their time-honoured -pastor—an opportunity which his great age and increasing infirmities had -made equally rare and valuable. I gladly accepted the invitation to join -them, as, aside from a desire to see the aged man, of whom I had so often -heard, if there is a time for devotion more consonant to my feelings than -another, it is when the quietness and serenity of a summer’s evening -dispel all external impressions, and every thing appears in unison with -harmony and benevolence. - -As we walked the short half mile between the cottage and the church, -the stars shone in beauty amid the still rosy tints of the west—the -night-hawk stooped towards us, as he wheeled in his airy circles—the -whip-poor-will in the adjoining meadows sounded his mournful note, -and the crickets, with the chirping frogs in the neighbouring ponds, -sustained a ceaseless chorus. Arrived at the church-yard, we picked our -way among the old brown tomb-stones, their quaint devices, contrasted -here and there with others of more modern pretensions in white marble, -and entering the church, took our seats in silence. We were early; but -as the church gradually filled, it was interesting to watch group after -group, as it noiselessly measured the aisles, and sunk quietly upon -the cushioned seats. Now and then a pair of bright eyes would glance -curiously around from beneath a gay bonnet, and a stray tress be thrown -hastily aside; but alas! those clad in the habiliments of wo, too, too -often moved, phantom-like, to their places; the lights, as they threw a -momentary glare on their pale and care-worn faces, making more dark the -badges which affection has assumed as a tame index of inward grief. The -slow toll of the bell ceased—the silence became more deep;—an occasional -cough—the rustling of a dress—the turn of a leaf alone breaking the -perfect stillness. - -The low tones of the organ rose gently and sweetly, and the voluntary -floated softly and mist-like over the assembly; now rising, and falling, -and undulating, with like dreamy harmony, as if the Æolian harp were -answering, with the passing airs playing among its strings, the ocean -gently laving her pebbly shores; then gradually rising and increasing -in depth, it grandly and solemnly ascended upwards, till thrown back, -reverberated from the walls of the circular dome above us, it rolled away -in deep and distant thunders. All became again silent. The venerable -form of a man of four-score years, his hair bleached with the sorrows of -eighty winters, rose slowly in the pulpit, and as, with eyes closed, yet -lifted to Heaven, he feebly supported himself with outstretched arms upon -its cushion, we heard almost in a whisper, “Let us pray, my brethren,” -fall tremulously from his lips. Nought, but the perfect stillness, -enabled us at first to hear the sentences pronounced with evident and -painful effort; but as he advanced in prayer, that almost whisper, became -firm and distinct, and his pallid cheek lighted up with a hectic flush, -as he waxed eloquent in the presence of his Maker. - -His venerable features appeared to glow almost with inspiration, as he -drew near the throne of the Holy One; and the hearts of the mourners beat -more calmly, as they felt themselves carried into the presence of Him -that suffered. More thoughtless than the swallow that skims the summer -skies, must he have been, who could have heard that prayer, and not have -joined with reverence in its solemnity. His closing words still ring upon -my ear, and long will remain stamped upon my memory. - -“My children—your fathers, and your fathers’ fathers have listened to my -voice. Generations have passed by me to their long account, and still -I have been left, and still my voice hath arisen from this holy place. -Wo! wo is me, if my Master hath looked upon me as a slack and unworthy -servant to his people. My children—but a few short days, and this -trembling voice that still strives to teach his blessed will, shall be -hushed in that sleep which the Archangel’s trump alone shall break—this -tottering form be laid beneath the mould from whence it came, there to -remain till that trump shall demand its presence at the judgment seat. -But with the last tones of this quivering voice, with the last grasp of -these trembling hands, I extend to you the sacred volume, as your guide -to happiness in this, your only light into the world to come. - -“The sneers of human reason and vain philosophy shall desert you -assuredly, my children, as you stand upon the edge of that awful -precipice, where each of you _alone_ must take the fated plunge into the -deep darkness of the future—but this, this shall make clear your passage -as brightest noon-day. My children—I look back upon you as I speak—my -hand is on the door-latch—my foot upon the threshold—oh! when your short -days like mine are numbered, may you with the same reliance in his mercy, -say, Lo, blessed Master, we stand without—receive us into thy kingdom.” - -As the service ended, it was good to see the kind-hearted feeling, with -which the congregation gathered around the venerable man—for he was pure, -and sincere, and true; and of a verity, as he said, his voice had arisen -among them above the infant’s wail, at the baptismal font—had joined -them with cheerfulness at the marriage feast, and still been heard in -solemn sympathy at the side of the dark and silent grave. It was the last -time that he addressed them. Not many days, and another voice pronounced -the burial service of the dead in that green church-yard, and the form of -the good old man was covered from their sight beneath its sod. - -As we returned to our cottage home, the crescent moon was streaming -in silvery brightness, the constellations and galaxy resplendent with -“living fires,” and the far, far worlds rolling in immeasurable distance, -as twinkling stars trembled upon our human vision. The dews of night were -moist upon the grass, as we re-measured the lawn that led to the cottage; -where, after planning our visit for the following morning to Mount -Vernon, we soon were wrapped in contented and grateful repose. - - - - -MOUNT VERNON. - - -The sun raised himself in a huge globe of fire above the eastern horizon, -as my friend’s spirited bays stood saddled at the door of the cottage, -pawing, champing the bit, and playfully endeavouring to bite the black -boy who held them. Finishing an early breakfast, we were soon in our -saddles and full gallop on our journey; the dogs in an ecstacy of -delight, bounding along at our sides, overhauling and putting in bodily -terror every unfortunate cur that came in their way, as they sportively -tumbled him over and over in curious examination; old Bernard, with -glistening eyes and wagging tail, bestriding in grim fun the prostrate -form of the enemy. We passed rapidly through the rough paved streets of -Alexandria, watching eagerly for its famed beauties at their casements, -and clearing the town, were soon on the rustic road that leads to the -sacred place of America. - -The meadows were glistening in the morning dew; the sweet perfume of the -clover filled the air; the white daisy and delicate cowslip danced over -their luxuriant grassy beds, as the fresh morning breeze fanned them -in its passage; and amid the sea of melody high above the merry gossip -of the bob-link, the chattering volubility of the mocking-bird, his -yellow spotted breast swelling with delight, his keen eye gazing into -the distance, the saucy “_you-can’t-see-me_” of the meadow lark sounded -in merry challenge, while the clear “whew-whew-it” of the quail from the -golden wheat-field, was echoed by his eager companion far down in the -green vales, as they stretched softly and gently into the distance, in -the long shadows of the early morning. Oh! let him that would scan the -benevolence of the Creator, leave his restless bed in the sweltering -city, and walk forth with the day in its youth,—for verily, like man, it -hath its youth, its manhood and its old age—and the sweetness of morning -is the youth of the day. - -The hedges on the road side were covered with a tangled mass of verdure, -from which wild vines and green ivy crept to the surrounding trees, -wreathing gracefully their trunks and branches. The undergrowth was -loaded with wild roses and honeysuckles. The graceful fleur-de-lis, -curving its blue flowers, trembled upon the green banks, and the -pond-lily floating on its watery bed, threw forth its grateful fragrance, -as we occasionally passed through the swampy bottoms. Fat cattle grazed -indolently in the meadows; while now and then, as we cantered by their -pastures, the horses, with tails and manes erect, accompanied us on our -journey, till arriving at their confines, with eager neighing, they -would look after us, throw their heels high in the air, and gallop down -into the broad fields in the very jollity of freedom. Every thing seemed -contented and joyous. The hearty, happy-looking negroes, trudging along -to their agricultural labours, doffed their hats to us, with a cheerful -“good morning,” as we passed, or laughingly displayed their white teeth -and big eyes, as they led the dew-wet horse to the bars to mount and -drive to the milking the smooth, fat kine. A ride of an hour brought us -to the woods that adjoin Mount Vernon, which are cleared of undergrowth, -but in other respects as wild and untamed as if naught but the savage -had ever placed foot in them. Silence reigned through the deep glades, -unbroken, save by the hoofs of our horses as they resounded with hollow -echo; the sharp chirp of the squirrel, jumping among the dry leaves; -or the quick rap, rap, of the woodpecker, as his scarlet head and blue -back glanced momentarily from some dead trunk upon our eyesight. We -met with nothing to intercept our progress. Now and then, to be sure, -a drove of hogs, feeding upon the mast in the forest, would marshal -themselves in our path, stupidly staring at us with a sort of ludicrous, -half-drunken gravity, snuffing the air, as if determined to intercept our -progress; but as we came nearer, they would whirl short about, and with -a simultaneous grunt, their tails twisted in the air, gallop off with -desperate precipitation into the depths of the forest. Journeying a mile -or two further, we came upon the porter’s lodges, at the entrance of -the domain proper, which were old and ruinous. Proceeding still farther -over a very bad and rough carriage-road, we came suddenly in view of the -Potomac; and Mount Vernon, with its mansion-house and smooth, green lawn, -lay extended before us; Fort Washington’s battlements and cannon-filled -embrasures in stern silence guarding it from the opposite side of the -river. - -Fastening our horses, under the guidance of a grey-headed old negro, -born in the family of General Washington, we entered the lawn and came -upon the rear-front, if the term may be allowed, of an old-fashioned -mansion, surmounted by a cupola and weather-cock, semicircular piazzas -extending around from each end, connecting it with the kitchen and -servant’s apartments. Various buildings, all bearing the impress of time, -were scattered about, evidently in architectural order and plan, and -the two large gardens, rendered interesting by the flowers and plants, -still blooming in the beds where they had been placed by the hands of -the General, extended back to the forest from which we had just emerged. -As we stood for a moment looking at the old building, we almost expected -to see the yellow travelling-carriage of his Excellency, with its four -beautiful bays, and liveried out-riders, draw up at the great hall door -in its centre. Having sent in our address, we received permission from -the courteous branch of the family, who now hold the estate, to enter -and survey the interior. We were struck with its extreme simplicity, -the lowness of the walls and ceilings, and the bare floors, which were -waxed, not, as with us, carpeted. The sides of the rooms were composed -exclusively of wooden panels, upon which hung some old oil paintings of -merit,—engravings of naval actions between the English, the Dutch, and -the French; and a small enamel miniature, which is considered the best -likeness extant of Washington. Curiosities of various kinds covered the -shelves and the mantels, and the painted porcelains and china jars, stood -in stately display behind the glass doors of the old-fashioned beaufets -in the corners. - -Our attention was arrested for a moment, as we passed through one of the -rooms, by a large rusty key of iron, enclosed in a glass case. It was -the key of the Bastile, that infernal prison, that monument of centuries -of grinding cruelty and oppression, where men vanished, and were seen -no more of their day and generation,—where, by the intrigues of the -courtier, the subtle blandishments of the minion of the palace, letters -de cachet plunged equally the innocent, the imprudent, and the generous, -into the jaws of living death,—that accursed congerie of dungeons where, -from mid fellowship of rats and spiders, such scrap of soiled paper, -written in the blood of the poor prisoner, fluttering from a loop-hole in -its lofty towers, arrests the footstep of the casual passenger upon the -causeway. - -“Mases de Latude, _thirty-two_ years prisoner in the Bastile, implores -good Christians to intercede for him, so that he may once more embrace -his poor old father and mother, if they yet live, and die in the open -world.” - -Surely, nothing but the hallowed air of Mount Vernon could have prevented -the Prince of Darkness from bodily carrying off so precious a gem for -his cabinet. One side of the great drawing-room was ornamented with a -sculptured mantel in Italian marble, presented by Lafayette, the other -was covered with cases containing books of high toned selection, while, -from the third, its green silk curtain drawn aside, was suspended a -portrait of the present family, by Chapman. The figures of the portrait, -as large as life, presented a lady of middle age, clad in mourning, -surrounded by a group of children advancing into youth. It was well -executed, and in the dignified and saddened serenity, in the simple -and natural grouping, and the pure and unaffected expression of the -countenances, an American in any part of the world, would have at once -recognised a family group of the more intellectual and refined of his own -country. As we walked through the various rooms, from which the family -had withdrawn, we were so overcome with the illusion, the work-basket -with its scissors and thread—the half-opened book lying upon the table, -the large Bible prominently, not ostentatiously, in its place, the -portraits on the walls, the busts on their pedestals,—all causing such -a vivid impression of present life and being, that we almost expected to -see the towering form of the General entering the doorway, or passing -over the green lawn spread between us and that Potomac which we had so -often viewed from the same windows. We were at first disappointed at not -seeing in some conspicuous place, the sword, which had so often been -extended by the hand whose pulses quickened not in the hour of extremest -peril, as it marshalled the road of human liberty; but our disappointment -turned to admiration, and our hearts beat still higher, as we were -referred to, and read this clause in his last testament: - -“To each of my four nephews, I bequeath one of the swords of which I -may die possessed. These swords are accompanied with the injunction not -to unsheath them for the purpose of shedding blood, except it be for -self-defence, or in defence of their country and its rights; and in the -latter case, to keep them unsheathed, and prefer falling with them in -their hands to the relinquishment thereof.” - -Passing through the great hall, ornamented with pictures of English -hunting scenes, we ascended the oaken stair-case, with its carved and -antique balustrade;—we stood at the door—we pressed the handle—the -room and the bed where he died were before us. Nothing in the lofty -drama of his existence, surpassed the grandeur of that final scene;—the -cold which he had taken from exposure, in overseeing some part of his -grounds, and which resisted the earlier domestic remedies that were -applied, advanced in the course of two short days into that frightful -form of the disease of the throat, laryngitis.—It became necessary for -him to take to his bed. His valued friend, Dr. Craik, was instantly -summoned, and assisted by the best medical skill of the surrounding -country, exhausted all the means of his art, but without affording -him relief. He patiently submitted, though in great distress, to the -various remedies proposed, but it became evident from the deep gloom -settling upon the countenances of the medical gentlemen, that the case -was hopeless;—advancing insidiously, the disease had fastened itself -with deadly certainty. Looking with perfect calmness upon the sobbing -group around him, he said—“Grieve not my friends; it is as I anticipated -from the first;—the debt which we all owe, is now about to be paid—I am -resigned to the event.” Requesting Mrs. Washington to bring him two wills -from his escritoire, he directed one to be burnt, and placed the other in -her hands, as his last testament, and then gave some final instructions -to Mr. Lear, his secretary and relation, as to the adjustment his -business affairs. He soon after became greatly distressed, and as, in -the paroxysms which became more frequent and violent, Mr. Lear, who was -extended on the bed by his side, assisted him to turn, he, with kindness, -but with difficulty, articulated, “I fear I give you great trouble, -sir,—but—perhaps it is a duty that we all owe one to another—I trust that -you may receive the same attention, when you shall require it.” - -As the night waned, the fatal symptoms became more imminent—his breath -more laboured and suffocating, and his voice soon after failed him. -Perceiving his end approaching, he straightened himself to his full -length, he folded his own hands in the necessary attitude upon his -chest—placing his finger upon the pulse of the left wrist, and thus -calmly prepared, and watching his own dissolution, he awaited the summons -of his Maker. The last faint hopes of his friends had disappeared;—Mrs. -Washington, stupified with grief, sat at the foot of the bed, her eyes -fixed steadfastly upon him; Dr. Craik, in deep gloom, stood with his face -buried in his hands at the fire,—his faithful black servant, Christopher, -the tears uncontrolled trickling down his face, on one side, took the -last look of his dying master; while Mr. Lear, in speechless grief, with -folded hands, bent over his pillow on the other. - -Nought broke the stillness of his last moments, but the suppressed sobs -of the affectionate servants collected on the stair-case; the tick of the -large clock in the hall, as it measured off, with painful distinctness, -the last fleeting moments of his existence, and the low moan of the -winter wind, as it swept through the leafless snow-covered trees; the -labouring and wearied spirit drew nearer and nearer to its goal; the -blood languidly coursed slower and more slowly through its channels—the -noble heart stopped—struggled—stopt—fluttered—the right hand slowly slid -from the wrist, upon which its finger had been placed—it fell at the -side—and the manly effigy of Washington was all that remained, extended -upon the death couch. - -We left that room, as those who leave a sick room: a suppressed whisper -alone escaped us, as, with a sort of instinctive silence and awe, we drew -the door slowly and firmly to its place behind us. We again descended the -antique stair-case, and emerged upon the lawn, in front of the mansion. -Passing through several coppices of trees, we approached the sepulchre, -where rest the remains of his earthly semblance. In the open arch of a -vault composed of brick, secured and firmly protected by gates of open -iron work, were two large sarcophagi of white marble, in one of which, -carved in high relief, with the arms of the republic, were deposited the -remains of him, “who was first in war, first in peace, and first in the -hearts of his countrymen.” A marble slab, set into the brick wall of the -exterior, bearing in black letters simply this inscription— - - “The remains of - Gen’l George Washington.” - -There rested all that was mortal of the man, whose justice—whose -virtue—whose patriotism—meet with no parallel in human history. There, -within the smoke of his own hearth-stone, mouldered the remains of -that towering form, whose spirit, whether in the battle, or in the -council-hall, in the fierce dissensions of public discord, or in the -quiet relations of social life, shone with the same stern and spotless -purity. - -The Potomac glittered like silver, between the trees in the noon-day sun -at our feet; the soft mild breeze gently moved the leaves upon the tree -tops—the chirp of the wren—the drowsy hum of the locust—the quick note of -the thrush, as she hopped from twig to twig, were all that showed signs -of life,—and those huge sarcophagi lay still—motionless—far, far from -voiceless. Oh! my countrymen, never since he left us, hath it so behoved -us to listen,—“While our Father’s grave doth utter forth a voice.” - -We were exceedingly struck and affected by the truthfulness of the “Sweet -Swan of Avon,” as we saw above the sarcophagi, (free passage to which -was open over the large iron gates,) the clayey nest of the martin, or -common house-swallow, built in the corner of the ceiling, where, in -perfect security and confidence she fed her chirping brood, directly over -the head of the departed hero. Pure, indeed, was the air, “nimbly and -sweetly” did it play upon our senses. Oh! bard of England, as standing -upon that hallowed spot, the spirit of the unfortunate Banquo whispered -again to our memories, his words to the murdered Duncan. - - “This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air - Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself - Unto our gentle senses.” - - _Banquo._——“This guest of summer, - The temple haunting martlet, does approve, - By his lov’d mansionry, that the heavens’ breath, - Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, buttress, - Nor coigne of vantage, but this bird hath made - His pendent bed, and procreant cradle: Where they - Most breed and haunt, I have observed, the air - Is delicate.” - -We lingered long at the tomb, and with reluctance withdrew, as the -advancing day warned us of our homeward returning ride. - -The setting sun, streaming in radiance through the trees, measured in -long shadows the persons of the two men dismounting at the cottage -door, from whence they had departed so buoyant and joyous in its -morning brightness. That setting sun, sinking beneath its gorgeous bed -of crimson, gold and purple, left those men more chastened, true, more -elevated, from their pilgrimage to the shrine of him whose name shall -forever be the watchword of human Liberty. - - - - -THE MEDICAL STUDENT. - - -I remained several weeks on my friend Tom’s plantation, enjoying -the course of life that he pursued, which was entirely consonant to -my tastes. His plantation consisted of about three hundred acres, -principally laid down in wheat, indian corn and tobacco, though some -of it still remained in meadow and woodland;—this, with a handsome -productive property in the neighbouring towns of Alexandria and -Washington, afforded him an abundant income to indulge his liberal, -though not extravagant tastes. He usually arose at five in the morning, -mounted his horse, and rode over the plantation, overseeing and giving -instructions to the labourers; and returning, was met by his smiling -wife and beautiful children at the breakfast table; after which, he -again applied himself to business until eleven, when he threw all care -aside, and devoted himself to pleasure or study, for the remainder of -the day. He thus avoided the two extremes to which country gentlemen are -liable,—over work on the one hand, or ennui on the other. His library—the -windows commanding a view of twenty miles down the Potomac—was crowded -with a varied store of general literature; among which, I observed -shining conspicuously, the emblazoned backs of Shakspeare, and the -worthy old Knight of La Mancha. History, Travels, the Classics—English, -French, Spanish, and Italian—and works on Natural History and general -science, were marshalled on their respective shelves. There was also, -a small, but very select Medical Library, for my friend had taken his -degree in that profession, and although relieved from the necessity of -practising for support, he was in the habit of attending gratuitously on -the poor in the neighbouring country.—Marble busts of Shakspeare, Milton -and Columbus, stood on pedestals in the corners of the room, and fine -old portraits of Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Dante, and Ben Jonson, besides -an exquisite gem of Ruysdaels hanging over the fire-place, adorned the -walls. On one side of the room, fronting the entrance, an effigy in -complete polished armour of the fifteenth century, stood erect and grim, -the mailed gauntlet grasping the upright spear; while, on a withered -branch above it, was perched with extended wings, a superb American -Eagle, in full preservation, his keen eye appearing to flash upon the -intruders at the entrance. In the centre, on the soft thick carpet, which -returned no sound of footsteps, was a circular table surmounted with -an Argand lamp and writing apparatus; on one side of which, was one of -the exquisitely comfortable lounging chairs, that admit of almost every -position of ease, and on the other, a crimson fauteuil stuffed with -down, which Tom laughingly said, was for the peculiar benefit of his -wife, when she saw fit to honour his sanctum sanctorum with her presence. -He tasked his invention to the utmost to make my time agreeable;—horses, -dogs, guns, books, every thing was at my disposal. Among other -excursions, he proposed, a few days after my arrival, that we should take -a run down the Potomac in his boat. Now this boat was none other than -a beautiful clipper-built schooner-rigged yacht, of about twenty tons -burden, with a very ample cabin in her centre, and from the gilt eagle on -her stern, and the gaudy pennant streaming at her masthead, to the taught -stay running out to the end of her mimic jib-boom, the most complete -thing of the kind that I ever laid eyes on. In so expressing myself when -I first saw her, I received an approbatory and very gracious nod from -“Old Kennedy,” a regular old salt, with one arm, for whom Tom had built a -cottage on his estate, and to whom she was beauty personified;—a beauty -which he could the more readily appreciate, from the fact, that the far -greater part of his time was devoted to her decoration. “Many a time,” -says Tom, “have I found him lying by himself on the banks, looking at her -in admiration with half-open eyes; and I much doubt whether my Mary looks -more beautiful to me, than does her namesake, as she floats yonder, to -old Kennedy.” - -But to come to our story. We appointed the following day for our -excursion, and, having first ascertained that Walter Lee, an old friend, -whose plantation was a couple of miles below would join us, we early the -next morning got up our anchor, and under the influence of a smacking -breeze, were soon cutting our way down the river, the white canvass -stretching clean and taught out to the stays; our long pennant streaming -proudly behind us, and our little jack shaking most saucily from its -slender staff at the bowsprit, as we merrily curveted and jumped over -the waves. Running down to a point on Lee’s plantation, we got him on -board, and were soon under way again, the water bubbling and gurgling -into our scuppers, as we lay down to it in the stiff breeze. Occasionally -she would sweep, gunwale under, when a flaw would strike her; but old -Kennedy, wide awake, would bring her up with a long curving sweep, -as gracefully as a young lady sliding out of the waltz in a crowded -ball-room, till, stretching out again, she would course along, dancing -over the mimic waves, with a coquetry equal to those same fair damsels, -when they find an unfortunate wight secure in their chains. We were all -in fine spirits; Tom’s negro boy, seated at the heel of the foremast, -showing his white teeth, in a delighted grin, as old Kennedy, with his -grave face, played off nautical wit at his peculiar expense. We saw a -number of ducks, but they were so shy that we could with difficulty get -a shot at them; but we now and then succeeded in picking half a dozen -snipe out of a flock, as it rose from the shore, and flew across our -bows. We continued running down the river in this way, for three or -four hours, passing now and then a fisherman, or other craft, slowly -beating up; but towards noon the breeze slackened,—we gradually lost -our way—merely undulating, as the wind fanned by us in light airs, till -finally it entirely subsided; our long pennant hanging supinely on the -shrouds, and the water slopping pettishly against our bows, as we rested -tranquilly upon its surface. The after part of the yacht was covered with -an awning, which, although sufficiently high to prevent its obstructing -the view of the helmsman, afforded us a cover from the rays of the sun, -so that we lay contentedly, reclining upon the cushions, smoking our -cigars, enjoying our refreshments, and reviving old recollections and -associations, for it must be confessed that we three, in our student -days, had “rung the chimes at midnight.” I had not seen Lee for several -years;—he was a descendant of the celebrated partizan officer, who -commanded the dashing corps in the Revolution known as Lee’s Legion, and -inherited, in a marked degree, all the lofty courtesy and real chivalry -that characterized that officer. He was exceedingly well read in the -military history of the country, and indeed so thoroughly imbued with -military spirit, that should the signal of war ring through the country, -I know of no man whose hand would so soon be on the sword hilt and -foot in the stirrup. My introduction to his acquaintance was marked by -an incident so peculiarly painful and exciting in its character, that I -cannot refrain from relating it. Having been let loose from the care of -my guardians at a very early age, I made the first use of my liberty in -travelling in a good-for-nothing sort of way over Europe, determined to -see for myself, the grandeur of Old England; to climb the Alps; to hear -the romantic legends of Germany, in her own dark forests; to study the -painters and sculptors of Italy, on her classic soil; to say nothing of -visions of dark-eyed girls of Seville, of sylphs and fairies, floating -through the ballets and operas of Paris, and midnight adventures in -the gondolas of Venice. Arriving at London, I fell in with, and gladly -availed myself of the opportunity to take apartments in the same house -with my friend Tom and his fellow-student Lee, both Americans, and both -completing a course of medical education by attending the lectures of the -celebrated John Hunter. - -It so happened, that on the very first evening that we came together, in -conversation upon the peculiar features of their profession, I expressed -a desire to visit a dissecting-room, never having been in one in my own -country. Lee immediately invited me to accompany them to the lecture on -that evening, which was to be delivered in the rotunda of the College, -and where, by going at an early hour, my curiosity could be satisfied, -besides the opportunity that I should have of hearing that eminent -surgeon. So pulling on our hats and taking our umbrellas in our hands, we -plunged into the dense fog, and groped our way over the greasy pavements -to the college. It was a large building, in a dark and retired court, -with something in its very exterior sepulchral and gloomy. Entering the -hall door, we ascended one pair of stairs, stopping for a moment as we -passed the second story, to look into the large rotunda of the lecture -room. The vacant chair of the professor was standing near the wall in -the rear of a circular table of such peculiar construction, as to admit -of elevation and depression in every part. This table was the one upon -which the subjects were laid when under the hands of the demonstrator. -Two skeletons, suspended by wires from the ceiling, hung directly over -it; the room was as yet unoccupied and silent. Ascending another flight -of stairs, we came to a third, secured at its entrance by a strong -oaken door;-this appeared to put a stop to our further ascent, but upon -a small bell being pulled, a sort of wicket in the upper part of the -door was cautiously drawn aside, discovering the features of a stern, -solemn-looking man, who, apparently satisfied of the right of the parties -to enter, drew one or two heavy bolts, and dropping a chain admitted us. -A small table was placed at the foot of the stairs, at which, by the -light of a lamp, this gloomy porter was perusing a book of devotion. -Ascending the stairs, it was not until three several attempts, that I -was enabled to surmount the effects of the effluvia sufficiently to enter -the green baize door that opened into the dissecting-room. As it swung -noiselessly to behind me, the first sensation produced by the sight, was -that of faintness; but it almost immediately subsided. There appeared a -sort of profanity in speaking aloud, and I found myself unconsciously -asking questions of my friends in a low whisper. - -On small narrow tables, in different parts of the large room, which, -though lighted by a dome in the centre, required, in the deep darkness -of a London fog, the additional aid of lamps, were extended some five -and twenty human corpses in different stages of dissection. Groups of -students were silently engaged with their scalpels in examining these -wonderful temples of the still more wonderful human soul. Here a solitary -individual, with his book open before him upon the corpse, followed the -text upon the human subject, while there, two or three together were -tracing with patient distinctness the course of the disease which had -driven the spirit of life from its frail habitation. I observed one -of the professors in his gold spectacles pointing out to a number of -the students, gathered around one of the subjects, the evidences of an -ossification of the great aorta, which had, after years of torture, -necessarily terminated the life of the sufferer.—There was almost as -much individuality in those corpses as if they had been living, and it -required the most determined effort on my part to divest myself of the -idea that they were sentient, and aware of all that was passing around -them. I recollect, particularly, one, which was lying nearest the door -as I entered;—it was the body of a man of about forty, with light hair, -and fair complexion, who had been cut down in the midst of health. -His face was as full, and his skin as white, as if he had been merely -sleeping; but the knife had passed around his throat, down his body, and -then in sections cross-ways; the internal muscles having been evidently -exposed, and the skin temporarily replaced, during the casual absence of -the dissector. There was something peculiarly horrid in the appearance -of that corpse, as, aside from a ruffianly and dissolute expression of -the features, the gash around his throat conveyed the impression that it -was a murdered man lying before me. A good-looking, middle-aged female -was extended just beyond, her long hair hanging down over the end of the -table, but not as yet touched by the hand of the surgeon; while, just -beyond her, the body of an old man, from which the upper part of the -skull had been sawn to take out the brain, appeared to be grinning at us -with a horrid sort of mirth. In another part of the room, directly over -which the blackening body of an infant was thrown across a beam, like a -piece of an old carpet, was extended the body of a gigantic negro; he -lay upon his back, his legs somewhat apart, one of his arms thrown up -so as to rest upon the top of his head, his eyes wide open, his nostrils -distended, and his teeth clenched in a hideous grin. There was such -evidence of strength, such giant development of muscle, such appearance -of chained energy and ferocity about him, that, upon my soul, it seemed -to me every moment as if he was about to spring up with a frantic yell, -and throw himself upon us; and wherever I went about the room, my eyes -still involuntarily turned, expecting to see that fierce negro drawing -up his legs ready to bound, like a malignant demon, over the intervening -space. He had been brought home for murder upon the high seas, but the -jail-fever had anticipated the hand of the executioner, and his body of -course was given over to the surgeons. A far different object lay on the -floor near him; it was the body of a young girl of about eleven or twelve -years old. The poor little creature had evidently died of neglect, and -her body drawn up by the action of the flexor muscles into the form of a -bow, stiffened in death, rocked forward and backward when touched by the -foot; the sunken blue eyes staring sorrowfully and reproachfully upon us -from the emaciated features. Beyond her, in most savage contrast, was -thrown the carcass of a Bengal tiger, which had died a day or two before -in the royal menagerie, his talons extending an inch beyond his paws, and -there was about his huge distended jaws and sickly eyes, as perfect a -portraiture of disease, and pain, and agony, as it has ever been my lot -to witness in suffering humanity. There was no levity about the students, -but, on the contrary, a sort of solemnity in their examinations; and -when they spoke, it was in a low tone, as if they were apprehensive of -disturbing the dead around them. I thought at the time that it would be -well if some of those who sneer at the profession, could look in upon one -of these even minor ordeals to which its followers are subjected in their -efforts to alleviate the sufferings of their fellow-men. - -As the hour for the lecture approached, the students one by one, closed -their books, washed their hands, and descended to the lecture-room. -We descended with the rest, and as we passed the grim porter, at the -bottom of the stair-case, I observed in the corner behind him a number -of stout bludgeons, besides several cutlasses and muskets. A popular -commotion a short time previous, among some of the well-intentioned but -ignorant of the lower classes, had induced the necessity of caution, -and this preparation for resistance. Entering the lecture-room, we took -our places on the third or fourth row of seats from the demonstrator’s -table, upon which a subject was lying, covered with a white sheet, and -had time, as the room gradually filled, to look about us. Besides the -students, Lee pointed out to me several able professional gentlemen, -advanced in life, who were attracted by the celebrity of the lecturer; -among others, Abernethy and Sir Astley Cooper. Shortly after we had taken -our seats, a slender, melancholy-looking young man, dressed in deep -mourning, entered the circle in which we were seated, and took his place -on the vacant bench at my side. He bowed reservedly to my companions as -he passed them, but immediately on sitting down became absorbed in deep -sadness. My friends returned his salute, but did not appear inclined -to break into his abstraction. At the precise moment that the lecture -was announced to be delivered, the tall form of the eminent surgeon was -seen descending the alley of crowded seats to his chair. The lights in -the various parts of the room were raised suddenly, throwing a glare on -all around; and one of the skeletons, to which an accidental jar had -been given, vibrated slowly forward and backward, while the other hung -perfectly motionless from its cord. In his short and sententious manner, -he opened the subject of the lecture, which was the cause, effect, and -treatment of that scourge of our country—consumption. His remarks were -singularly lucid and clear, even to me, a layman. After having gone -rapidly through the pathology of the disease, consuming perhaps some -twenty minutes of time, he said,—“We will now, gentlemen, proceed to -demonstration upon the subject itself.” I shall not readily forget the -scene that followed. As he slowly turned up the wristbands of his shirt -sleeves, and bent over to select an instrument from the case at his -side, he motioned to an assistant to withdraw the sheet that covered the -corpse. Resuming his erect position, the long knife glittering in his -hand, the sheet was slowly drawn off, exhibiting the emaciated features -of an aged woman, her white hair parted smoothly in the middle of her -forehead, passing around to the back of the head, beneath the plain white -muslin cap. The silence which always arrests even the most frivolous in -the presence of the dead, momentarily checked the busy hum of whispers -around me, when I heard a gasp—a choking—a rattling in the throat, at -my side; and the next instant, the young man sitting next to me, rose -to his feet, threw his arms wildly upwards, and shrieking in a tone of -agony, that caused every man’s heart in that assembly, momentarily to -stop—“_My m-o-t-h-e-r!_”—plunged prostrate and stiff, head foremost upon -those in front of him. All was instant consternation and confusion;—there -was one present who knew him, but to the majority of the students, he -was as much a stranger as he was to my friends. He was from one of the -adjoining parishes of London, and two weeks before, had lost his mother, -to whom he was much attached, and by fatal mischance, that mother lay -extended before him, upon the demonstrator’s table. He was immediately -raised, but entirely stiff and insensible, and carried into an adjoining -room;—sufficient animation was at length restored to enable him to -stand, but he stared vacantly about him, the great beads of sweat -trickling down his forehead, without a particle of mind or memory. The -lecture was of course closed, and the lifeless corse again entrusted to -hands to replace it in its tomb. The young man, on the following day, was -brought sufficiently to himself to have memory present the scene again to -his mind, and fell almost immediately into a raging fever, accompanied -with fierce and violent delirium; his fever gradually abated, and his -delirium at intervals; but when I left London for the continent, three -months after, he was rapidly sinking under the disease which carried off -his mother—happily in a state of helpless and senseless idiocy; and in -a very short time after, death relieved him from his misery. The whole -scene was so thrilling and painful, that, connecting it in some measure -with my introduction to Lee, his presence always recalled it to my -memory. - - - - -THE RESURRECTIONISTS. - - -As we returned to our lodgings, our conversation naturally turned upon -the agitating event that we had just witnessed, and the extreme caution -necessary in the procuring of subjects for anatomical examination. Lee -related an occurrence that had happened to Dr. ——, a gentleman of high -standing in South Carolina. - -Shortly after the American revolution, he visited Europe for the purpose -of pursuing his medical studies, and was received into the family of -the same distinguished gentleman, whom we had just heard lecture, -then beginning to rise to eminence and notice; an advantage which was -necessarily confined to a very few. In one of the dark and stormy nights -of December, Mr. Hunter and his wife having been called to the bedside -of a dying relative in the country, as Dr. —— was quietly sitting at the -parlour fire, absorbed in his studies, he was aroused by a hurried ring -at the street door, and rising, went to answer it himself. Upon opening -the door, a hackney coach, with its half-drowned horses, presented itself -at the side of the walk, and two men, in slouched hats and heavy sailor -coals dripping with water, standing upon the steps, inquired in a low -tone if he wanted a subject. Being answered in the affirmative, they -opened the carriage door, lifted out the body, which was enveloped in a -sack, and having carried it up stairs to the dissecting-room, which was -in the garret, received the two guineas which they had demanded, and -withdrew. The affair was not unusual, and Dr. —— resuming his book, soon -forgot the transaction. About eleven o’clock, while still absorbed in -his studies, he heard a violent female shriek in the entry, and the next -instant the servant maid, dashing open the door, fell senseless upon the -carpet at his feet, the candlestick which she held, rolling some distance -as it fell. - -Perceiving that the cause of alarm, whatever it might be, was without, -he caught up the candlestick, and, jumping over her prostrate form, -rushed into the hall where an object met his view which might well -have tried the nerves of the strongest man. Standing half-way down the -stair-case, was a fierce, grim-looking man, perfectly naked, his eyes -glaring wildly and fearfully from beneath a coarse shock of dark hair, -which, nearly concealing a narrow forehead, partially impeded a small -stream of blood trickling down the side of the face, from a deep scratch -in the temple. In one hand he grasped a sharp long belt-knife, such as -is used by riggers and sailors, the other holding on by the bannister, -as he somewhat bent over to meet the gaze of the Doctor rushing into the -entry. The truth flashed across the mind of Dr. —— in an instant, and -with admirable presence of mind, he made one spring, catching the man -by the wrist which held the knife, in a way that effectually prevented -his using it. “In the name of God! where am I?” demanded the man in a -horror-stricken voice, “am I to be murdered?” “Silence!—not a whisper,” -sternly answered Dr. ——, looking him steadily in the eyes—“Silence—and -your life is safe.”—Wrenching the knife from his hand, he pulled him by -the arm passively along into the yard, and hurrying through the gate, -first ran with him through one alley, then into another, and finally -rapidly through a third, till coming to an outlet upon one of the narrow -and unfrequented streets, he gave him a violent push,—retracing his steps -again on the wings of the wind, pulling too, and doubly locking the gate -behind him, leaving the object of his alarm perfectly bewildered and -perplexed, and entirely ignorant of the place from whence he had been so -summarily ejected. The precaution and presence of mind of Dr. ——, most -probably saved the house of Mr. Hunter from being torn down and sacked -by the mob, which would have been instantly collected around it, had the -aggrieved party known where to have led them to wreak his vengeance. - -After a few days, inquiry was carefully and cautiously made through the -police, and it was ascertained that three men answering the description -of the resurrectionists and their victim had been drinking deeply -through the afternoon, in one of the low dens in the neighbourhood of -Wapping; that one had sunk into a stupid state of intoxication, and had, -in that situation, been stripped and placed in a sack by his companions, -a knife having been previously placed in his hand that he might relieve -himself from his confinement upon his return to sensibility; and that in -addition to the poor wretch’s clothes, they had realized the two guineas -for his body. - -It is certainly painful, that the requirements of suffering humanity -should make the occasional violation of the grave indispensably -necessary. Whether the spirit, released from its confinement, lies in the -limbo of the fathers, the purgatory of the Catholics, awaiting the great -day of doom; whether called from a life of virtue, all time and distance -annihilated, it sweeps free and unconstrained in heavenly delight through -the myriads and myriads of worlds, rolling in the vast sublimity of -space; whether summoned from a course of evil, it shudders in regions of -darkness and desolation, or writhes in agony amid flaming atmospheres; -or whether its germ of life remains torpid, as in the wheat taken from -the Egyptian pyramids, thousands of years existent, but apparently not -sentient, must, of course, be to us but the wild theories of imagination, -and so remain until that judgment, predicted by the holy Revelation, -shall sweep away the darkness with which, in inscrutable and awful -wisdom, the Almighty has enveloped us. - -But that the spirit can look with other than indifference, if not -loathing, on the perishing exuviæ of its chrysalis existence, which, to -its retrospective gaze, presents little other than a tasking house of -base necessities, a chained prison of cruel disappointments, even to our -human reason, clogged as it is with bars and contradictions, appears -hardly to admit the opportunity of question, and of consequence to that -spirit its disposition can but be a matter of indifference. Still, to -the surviving friends, whose affection cannot separate mind from matter, -those forms lying in the still and silent tomb, retain all their dear -associations, and surely it most gravely becomes the members of that -profession, which, next to the altar, stands foremost in benevolence, -that the deepest prudence should be exercised in this gloomy rite -required by the living from the dead. - - - - -OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER. - - -(Constitution and Guerriere.) - -No. I. - -The sun became more and more powerful as it ascended towards the -meridian, and was reflected with effulgent intensity from the -mirror-surface of the river. As we bent over the side and looked far down -into the deep vault reflected from above, and saw our gallant little -yacht, with her white sails and dark hull, suspended with even minute -tracery over it, we could almost imagine ourselves with the Ancient -Mariner, “in a painted ship upon a painted ocean.”—The white sandbanks -quivered and palpitated in the sultry glare, and the atmosphere of the -adjoining swamps hung over them in a light blue vapour; the deadly -miasma, their usual covering, dissipated in the fervent heat; while -the silence was unbroken, save by the occasional scream of the gull, -as it wheeled about in pursuit of its prey, or the quick alarmed cry -of the kingfisher, hastily leaving some dead branch upon the shore to -wing its way farther from the object of its terror. The black boy, in -perfect negro elysium, lay stretched fast asleep, with his arm resting -upon one of the dogs, in the blazing sun on the forecastle, while we -ourselves, reclined upon the cushions, with our refreshments before us, -indolently puffed our cigars under the awning, Old Kennedy, perched upon -the taffrail, coxswain fashion, with the tiller between his legs. While -thus enjoying ourselves, like true disciples of Epicurus, the guitar was -taken from its case in the cabin, and accompanied by the rich tones of -Walter Lee: “Here’s a health to thee, Mary,” in compliment to our kind -hostess, swept over the still surface of the river, till, dissipated in -the distance, and anon the “Wild Huntsman,” and “Here’s a health to all -good lassies,” shouted at the pitch of three deep bass voices, bounded -over the banks, penetrating the deep forest, causing the wild game to -spring from their coverts in consternation at such unusual disturbance -of its noontide stillness. “We bade dull care be gone, and daft the -time away.” Old Kennedy, seated at the tiller, his grey hair smoothed -down on one side, and almost falling into his eyes, his cheek distended -with a huge quid of tobacco, which gave an habitual drag to a mouth -whose expression indicated surly honesty and resolution, was a perfect -portrait of many an old quartermaster, still in the service; while -his scrupulously clean shirt, with its blue collar open at the neck, -discovering a rugged throat, encircled by a ring of grey hairs, and his -white canvass trowsers, as tight at the hips as they were egregiously -large at the ancles, indicated the rig in which he had turned up, for the -last thirty years, to Sunday muster. The old seaman had seen a great deal -of service, having entered the navy at the opening of the difficulties -with the Barbary powers, and had been engaged in several of the signal -naval actions which followed in the subsequent war with Great Britain. -Previous to that time, he had been in the employ of Tom’s father, who was -an extensive shipping merchant at Alexandria, and now, in his old age, -influenced by an attachment for the son, who had built a snug cottage for -him on his estate, and, vested with the full control of the yacht, he had -been induced to come down to spend the remainder of his days on the banks -of the Potomac, enjoying the pension awarded by government for the loss -of his arm. - -I had previously had the hint given me, that a little adroit management -would set him to spinning a yarn which would suit my fancy. So, watching -a good opportunity, knowing that the old man had been with Hull in his -fight with the Guerriere, I successfully gave a kick to the ball by -remarking, “You felt rather uncomfortable, Kennedy, did you not, as -you were bearing down on the Guerriere, taking broadside and broadside -from her, without returning a shot. You had time to think of your sins, -my good fellow, as conscience had you at the gangway?” “Well, sir,” -replied he, deliberately rolling his tobacco from one side of his mouth -to the other, squirting the juice through his front teeth with true -nautical grace—“Well, sir, that ere was the first frigate action as ever -I was engaged in, and I am free to confess, I overhauled the log of my -conscience to see how it stood, so it mought be I was called to muster -in the other world in a hurry; but I don’t think any of his shipmates -will say that Old Bill Kennedy did his duty any the worse that day, -because he thought of his God, as he has many a time since at quarters. -There’s them as says the chaplain is paid for the religion of the ship, -and it’s none of the sailor’s business; but I never seen no harm in -an honest seaman’s thinking for himself. Howsomever, I don’t know the -man who can stand by his gun at such time, tackle cast loose, decks -sanded, matches lighted, arm-chests thrown open, yards slung, marines -in the gangways, powder-boys passing ammunition buckets, ship as still -as death, officers in their iron-bound boarding caps, cutlashes hanging -by lanyards at their wrists, standing like statues at divisions, enemy -may-be bearing down on the weather-quarter—I say, I doesn’t know the man -at sich time, as won’t take a fresh bite of his quid, and give a hitch to -the waistbands of his trowsers, as he takes a squint at the enemy through -the port as he bears down. And as you say at that particular time, the -Guerriere (as is French for soger) was wearing and manœuvering, and -throwing her old iron into us, broadside and broadside, like as I have -seen them Italians in Naples throw sugar-plums at each other in Carnival -time.—Afore she was through, tho’, she found it was no sugar-plum work, -so far as Old Ironsides was consarned. You obsarve, when we first made -her out, we seen she was a large ship close hauled on the starboard -tack; so we gave chase, and when within three miles of her, took in all -our light sails, hauled courses up, beat to quarters and got ready for -action. She wore and manœuvered for some time, endeavouring to rake, but -not making it out, bore up under her jib, and topsails, and gallantly -waited for us. Well, sir—as we walked down to her, there stands the old -man, (Hull) his swabs on his shoulders, dressed as fine in his yellow -nankin vest and breeches, as if he was going ashore on leave—there he -stands, one leg inside the hammock nettings, taking snuff out of his -vest pocket, watching her manœuvres, as she blazed away like a house -a-fire, just as cool as if he was only receiving complimentary salutes. -She burnt her brimstone, and was noisy—but never a gun fires we. Old -Ironsides poked her nose steady right down for her, carrying a bank of -foam under her bows like a feather-bed cast loose. Well, as we neared -her, and she wears first a-star-board, and then a-larboard, giving us a -regular broadside at every tack, her shot first falls short, but as we -shortened the distance, some of them begins to come aboard—first among -the rigging, and cuts away some of the stuff aloft, for them Englishmen -didn’t larn to fire low till we larnt ’em. First they comes in aloft, -but by-and-by, in comes one—lower—crash—through the bulwarks, making the -splinters fly like carpenter’s chips,—then another, taking a gouge out -of the main-mast; and pretty soon agin—‘_chit_’—I recollects the sound -of that ere shot well—‘chit’—another dashed past my ear, and glancing on -a gun-carriage, trips up the heels of three as good men as ever walked -the decks of that ere ship; and all this while, never a gun fires we; but -continues steadily eating our way right down on to his quarter, the old -man standing in the hammock nettings, watching her movements as if she -was merely playing for his amusement. Well, as we came within carronade -distance, them shot was coming on board rather faster than mere fun, -and some of the young sailors begins to grumble, and by-and-by, the old -men-of-wars-men growled too, and worked rusty—cause why—they sees the -enemy’s mischief, and nothing done by us to aggravate them in return. -Says Bill Vinton, the vent-holder, to me, ‘I say, Kennedy,’ says he, -‘what’s the use—if this here’s the way they fights frigates, dam’me! but -I’d rather be at it with the Turks agin, on their own decks as we was -at Tripoli. It’s like a Dutch bargain—all on one side. I expects the -next thing, they’ll order pipe down, and man the side-ropes for that ere -Englishman to come aboard and call the muster-roll.’ ‘Avast a bit,’ says -I; ‘never you fear the old man. No English press-gang comes on board this -ship—old Blow-hard knows what he’s about.’ - -“Well, by-and-by Mr. Morris, our first lieutenant, who all the while had -been walking up and down the quarter-deck, his trumpet under his arm, and -his eyes glistening like a school-boy’s just let out to play; by-and-by -_he_ begins to look sour, ’ticularly when he sees his favourite coxswain -of the first cutter carried by a shot through the opposite port. So he -first looks hard at the Old Man, and then walks up to him, and says by -way of a hint, in a low tone, ‘The ship is ready for action, sir, and -the men are getting impatient;’—the Old Man never turns, but keeps his -eye steadily on the enemy, while he replies, ‘Are—you—all ready, Mr. -Morris?’—‘All ready, sir,’—says the lieutenant—‘Don’t fire a gun till -I give the orders, Mr. Morris,’—says the old man. Presently up comes -a midshipman from the main-deck, touches his hat—‘First division all -ready, sir,—the second lieutenant reports the enemy’s shot have hurt -his men, and he can with difficulty restrain them from returning their -fire;’—‘Tell him to wait for orders, Mr. Morris,’ says the old man -again—never turning his head. Well—just, you see, as the young gentleman -turned to go below, and another shot carries off Mr. Bush, lieutenant -of marines—just as we begins to run into their smoke, and even the old -gun-boat men, as had been with Decatur and Somers, begins to stare, up -jumps the old man in the air, slaps his hand on his thigh with a report -like a pistol, and roars out in a voice that reached the gunners in the -magazines—‘Now, Mr. Morris, give it to them,—now give it to them—fore -and aft—round and grape—give it to ’em, sir—give it to ’em,’ and the -words was scarce out of his mouth, before our whole broadside glanced -at half pistol shot—the old ship trembling from her keel to her trucks, -like an aspen, at the roar of her own batteries—instantly shooting ahead -and doubling across his bows, we gave him the other with three cheers, -and then at it we went—regular hammer and tongs. You would a thought -you were in a thunder storm in the tropics, from the continual roar -and flash of the batteries. In ten minutes, his mizen-mast went by the -board. ‘Hurrah!’ shouts the old man; ‘hurrah, boys, we’ve made a brig of -her.—Fire low, never mind their top hamper! hurrah! we’ll make a sloop -of her before we’ve done.’ In ten minutes more over went her main-mast, -carrying twenty men overboard as it went; and sure enough, sir, in thirty -minutes, that ere Englishman was a sheer hulk, smooth as a canoe, not a -spar standing but his bowsprit; and his decks so completely swept by our -grape and cannister, that there was barely hands enough left to haul down -the colours, as they had bravely nailed to the stump of their main-mast. -‘I say, Kennedy,’ says the vent-holder to me, lying across the gun after -she struck, looking out at the wrack through the port, and his nose was -as black as a nigger’s from the powder flashing under it—‘I say, I wonder -how that ere Englishman likes the smell of the old man’s snuff.’” - - - - -OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER - - -(Sailors Ashore.—Hornet and Peacock.) - -No. II. - -“Well—well—sailors, is queer animals any how—and always ready for a -fight or frolic—and, so far as I sees, it don’t much matter which. Now, -there was Captain ——, he was a Lieutenant then;—I was up in a draft of -men, with him to the lakes in the war, and as there was no canals nor -steamboats in them days, they marched us up sojer fashion. As we marched -along the road, there was nothing but skylarking and frolic the whole -time,—never a cow lying in the road but the lads must ride, nor a pig, -but they must have a pull at his tail. I recollects, once’t, as we was -passing a farm yard, Jim Albro, as was alongside of me—what does Jim do, -but jumps over the fence and catches a goose out of the pond, and was -clearing with it under his arm, but the farmer, too quick for him, grabs -his musket out of his door, and levelling at Jim, roars out to drop the -goose. Jim catches the goose’s neck tight in his hand, as it spraddles -under his arm, and then turning his head over his shoulder, cries out, -‘_You fire_,—I’ll wring his neck off.’ And so Jim would have got off with -the goose, but one of the officers seeing what was going on, orders Jim -to drop the goose, and have a care how he aggravates the honest farmers -in that ere sort of a way; for, ‘By the powers!’ said he, ‘Mister Jim -Albro—this isn’t the first time, and if I hear of the like agin from -you,—but your back and the boatswain’s mate shall scrape an acquaintance -the first moment we come within the smell of a tarred ratlin.’ - -“It was wrong, to be sure, for Bill to take the man’s goose, seeing as -how it was none of his; but there was one affair that same day, as the -lads turned up to, and though a steady man, I’m free to confess I had a -hand in’t. Why, what do you think sir, but as we what was bound for to -fight the battles of our country—what do you think, but as we comes to -one of them big gates they has on the roads, but the feller as keeps it, -damme, sir, what does he do? but makes all fast, and swear that we shan’t -go through without paying! I’m free to confess, sir, that that ere gate -went off its hinges a little quicker than the chain of our best bower -ever run through the hawse hole. A cummudgeonly son of a land lubber,—as -if, because we didn’t wear long-tail coats, and high-heel boots, we was -to pay like horses and oxen! If the miserable scamp hadn’t’ve vanished -like a streak into the woods, we’d have paid him out of his own tar -bucket, and rolled him over in the feathers of one of his wife’s own -beds. But, d’ye see, that wasn’t the end of it. Them ere lawyers gets -hold of it—and it was the first time any of them land-shirks ever came -athwart my hawse. - -“When we gets to the next town, up comes a constable to the midshipman, -supposing as how he was in command of the draft—up comes the constable, -and says, says he, ‘Capting, I arrests you for a salt and battery, in -behalf of these here men, as has committed it,’ meaning, you understand, -the affair of the gate. Well, the midshipman, all ripe for frolic and fun -himself, pulls a long face, and says gruffly, that his men hadn’t been -engaged in no salt, or no battery; but that they was ready at all times -to fight for their country, and asks him whereaway that same English -battery lay, as he would answer for the lads’ salting it quick enough. -Then the lawyer as was standing with his hands behind him, up and tells -him that ‘it’s for a trespass in the case.’ ‘Oh! a trespass in the -gate—you mean,’ says the midshipman; but just then the lieutenant comes -up to see what’s the muss, and bids me put on my jacket, for d’ye see, I -had squared off to measure the constable for a pair of black eyes—hang me -if the feller didn’t turn as white as a sheet. ‘Put on your jacket, sir,’ -says he, ‘and leave the man alone;’ and then turning to the midshipman, -‘Mr. ——, take the men down to the tavern and splice the main-brace, while -I walk up to the justice’s with the gentle man to settle this affair. -And, hark’ee, ye rascals,’ says he, ‘don’t disgrace the name of blue -jacket in this quiet village, but behave yourselves till I return.’ Well, -he and the lawyer walks up to the justice’s, and there they three takes a -glass of wine together, and that’s the last we hearn of that ere business. - -“There agin, when we took the Peacock;—you all knows about that ere -action; it was what I calls short and sweet. Fifteen minutes from the -first gun, he was cut almost entirely to pieces, his main-mast gone by -the board, six feet of water in the hold, and his flag flying in the -fore-rigging, as a signal of distress. The sea was running so heavy, as -to wash the muzzles of our guns, as we run down. We exchanged broadsides -at half pistol shot, and then, as he wore to rake us, we received his -other broadside, running him close in upon the starboard quarter, and a -drunken sailor never hugged a post closer, nor we did that brig, till -we had hammered day-light out of her. A queer thing is war, though, -and I can’t say as I was ever satisfied as to its desarts, though I’ve -often turned the thing over in my mind in mid-watch since. There was we, -what was stowing our round shot into that ere brig, as if she had been -short of kenteledge, and doing all we could to sweep, with our grape and -cannister, every thing living, from her decks,—there was we, fifteen -minutes after, working as hard as we could pull to, to keep her above -water, while we saved her wounded, and the prisoners, like as she had -been an unfortunate wrack, foundering at sea. But all wouldn’t do—down -she went, carrying thirteen of her own wounded, besides some of our own -brave lads, as was exerting themselves to save them, and mighty near did -Bill Kennedy come to being one of the number, and having a big D marked -agin his name, on the purser’s book, at that same time. The moment she -showed signals of distress, all our boats was put in requisition to -transport the prisoners and wounded to the Hornet. I was in the second -cutter, with midshipman C——; he was a little fellow then, tho’ he’s a -captain now. Well, we stowed her as full as she could stow, and I was -holding on by the boat-hook in the bows, jist ready to push off, when -midshipman C——, jumps aboard agin, and runs back to call a couple of the -Englishmen, as was squared off at each other, at the foot of the main -hatch ladder, settling some old grudge—(for d’ye see, sir, all discypline -is over the moment a ship strikes)—he runs back to tell them to clear -themselves—for the ship was sinking,—but before he could reach it, she -rolls heavily, sways for an instant from side to side, gives a heavy -lurch, and then, down she goes head foremost, carrying them fellers as -was squared off agin each other, and her own wounded, besides four or -five of our own brave lads, right down in the vortex. Our boat spun -round and round like a top, for a moment, and then swept clear, but the -midshipman barely saved himself, by springing into an empty chest as -was floating by, and there he was dancing about in the heavy sea, like a -gull in the surf, and it was nigh on two hours afore we picked him up; -but the little fellow was jist as cool and unconsarned, as if he was in a -canoe on a fish-pond. The next day we opens a subscription, and furnishes -all the British seamen with two shirts, and a blue jacket and trowsers -each,—cause why—d’ye see, they’d lost all their traps in their ship when -she went down.” - - - - -OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER. - - -(Perry’s Victory on Lake Erie.) - -No. III. - -“But,” says I, “Kennedy—I think you said your draft was bound for the -lakes—which did you go to, Ontario, or Erie?” “I was on both, sir,” says -he, “afore the war was over; and we got as much accustomed to poking our -flying jib-boom into the trees on them shores, as if the sticks was first -cousins—which, seeing as how the ships was built in the woods, wouldn’t -be much of a wonder. Part of that ere draft staid down on Ontario, with -the old commodore, as was watching Sir James, and part was sent up to -Erie. I went up to Erie and joined the Lawrence, Commodore Oliver H. -Perry—and I hopes that old Bill Kennedy needn’t be called a braggart, if -he says he did his part in showing off as handsome a fight on that same -fresh-water pond, as has ever been done by an equal force on blue water. -Our gallant young commodore, made as tight a fight of it as it has ever -been my luck to be engaged in; and seeing as how half of his men was -down with fever and ager, and not one in a dozen knew the difference -between the smell of gunpowder and oil of turpentine, blow me! but I -think it was about as well done. - -“You see our squadron was lying in a bay, as they calls Put-in-Bay—and -when the enemy first hove in sight, it was in the morning, about seven -o’clock. I knows that that was the time, because I had just been made -Quarter-Master, by Captain Perry, and was the first as seen them through -my glass. They was in the nor’-west, bearing down: as soon as we made -them out to be the enemy’s fleet, up went the signal to get under way; -our ship, the Lawrence, in course taking the lead. Well, as we was -working slowly to windward to clear some small islands—one of ’em was -Snake Island—I hearn Captain Perry come up to the master, and ask him in -a low voice, whether he thought he should be able to work out to windward -in time to get the weather-gage of the enemy; but the master said as how -the wind was sou’-west, and light, and he didn’t think he could. ‘Then,’ -said the commodore, aloud, ‘wear ship, sir, and go to leeward, for I am -determined to fight them to-day,’—but just then, the wind came round to -the south’ard and east’erd, and we retained the weather-gage, and slowly -bore down upon the enemy. They did all they could to get the wind, but -not succeeding, hove into line, heading westward, and gallantly waited -for us as we came down. - -“There lay their squadron, all light sails taken in, just like a boxer, -with his sleeves rolled up, and handkercher tied about his loins, ready -to make a regular stand-up fight, and there wasn’t a braver man, nor -better sailor, in the British navy, nor that same Barclay, whose broad -pennant floated in the van of that squadron. - -“Pretty soon, up runs our motto-flag, the dying words of our hero -Lawrence—‘_Don’t give up the ship_,’ and floats proudly from our main, -and then the general order was passed down the line by trumpet, ‘_Each -ship, lay your enemy alongside_’—and if you ever seen a flock of wild -geese flying south’erd in the fall of the year, you’ll have some idee -of us, as we went down into action. The men was full of spirit, and -panting for a fight, and even them as was so sick, as to be hardly able -to stand, insisted upon taking their places at the guns. I recollects one -in particular—he was a carpenter’s mate, a steady man, from Newport—he -crawls up when we beat to quarters, and seats himself upon the head of -one of the pumps, with the sounding-rod in his hand, looking as yellow -as if he had just been dragged out of a North Carolina cypress swamp: -but one of the officers comes up to him as he was sitting there, and -says—‘You are too sick to be here, my man,—there’s no use of your being -exposed for nothing—you had better go below.’ ‘If you please, sir,’ says -the poor fellow, ‘if I can do nothing else, I can save the time of a -better man, and sit here and sound the pump.’ Well, sir, as we bore -down, the English occasionally tried our distance by a shot, and when -we was within about a mile of ’em, one comes ricochetting across the -water, bounds over the bulwarks, and takes that man’s head as clean off -his shoulders, as if it had been done with his own broad-axe. I have -hearn say, that ‘every bullet has its billet,’ and that is sartin, that -it’s no use to dodge a shot, for if you are destined to fall by a shot, -you will sartin fall by that same shot; and I bears in mind, that an -English sailor, one of our prisoners, told me that in a ship of their’n a -feller, as skulked in the cable-tier, during an action with the French, -was found dead with a spent forty-two resting on his neck. The ball had -come in at the starn-port—struck one of the beams for’ard, and tumbled -right in upon him, breaking his neck, as he lay snugly coiled away in the -cable-tier. No, no—misfortins and cannon shot is very much alike—there’s -no dodging—every man must stand up to his work, and take his chance—if -they miss, he is ready when they pipes to grog—if they hit, the purser’s -book is squared, and no more charges is scored agin him. - -“But as I was saying, it wasn’t long before we begun to make our -carronades tell, and then at it we went, hot and heavy, the Lawrence -taking the lead, engaging the Detroit, and every vessel as she came up, -obeying orders and laying her enemy alongside, in right good arnest, -except the Niagara. She hung back—damn her—with her jib brailed up, and -her main-topsail to the mast—consequence was, the Charlotte, as was her -opponent, avails herself of her distance—runs up close under the starn -of the Detroit, and both ships pours in their combined fire into our -ship the Lawrence. I hearn the master myself, and afterwards two or -three of the other officers, go up to the Commodore during the action, -and call his attention to the Niagara, and complain of her treacherous -or cowardly conduct. Well, them two ships gin it to us hot and heavy, -and in three minutes we was so enveloped in smoke, that we only aimed -at the flashes of their guns, for we might as well have tried to trace -a flock of ducks in the thickest fog on the coast of Labrador, as their -spars or hulls. I was working at one of the for’ard guns, and as after -she was loaded, the captain of the piece stood waiting with the trigger -lanyard in his finger, ready to pull, one of the officers calls out, ‘I -say, sir, why don’t you fire?’ ‘I want to make her tell, sir,’ says the -gunner,—‘I am waiting for their flash,—there it is’—and as he pulled -trigger, a cannon shot came through the port, and dashed him to pieces -between us, covering me and the officer all over with his brains. Their -fire was awful; the whole of the shot of the two heaviest ships in the -squadron pouring into us nigh on two hours without stopping. Our brig -became a complete slaughter-house—the guns dismounted—carriages knocked -to pieces—some of our ports knocked into one—hammock-netting shot clean -away—iron stancheons twisted like wire—and a devilish deal more day-light -than canvass in our bolt ropes—the wounded pouring down so fast into -the cockpit, that the surgeons didn’t pretend to do more than apply -tourniquets to stop the bleeding; and many of the men came back to the -guns in that condition; while others was killed in the hands of the -surgeons. One shot came through the cockpit, jist over the surgeon’s -head, and killed midshipman Laub, who was coming up on deck, with a -tourniquet at his shoulder, and another killed a seaman who had already -lost both arms. Our guns was nearly all dismounted; and finally, there -was but one that could be brought to bear; and so completely was the -crew disabled, that the commodore had to work at it with his own hands. -The men became almost furious with despair, as they found themselves -made the target for the whole squadron; and the wounded complained -bitterly of the conduct of the Niagara, as they lay dying on the decks, -and in the cockpit. Two shots passed through the magazine—one knocked -the lantern to pieces, and sent the lighted wick upon the floor; and if -the gunner hadn’t have jumped on it with his feet, before it caught the -loose powder—my eyes! but that ere ship and every thing on board would -have gone into the air like a sheaf of sky-rockets, and them as was on -board, never would have know’d which side whipped. Out of one hundred -men that went into action, eighty-three were either killed or wounded, -and every officer was killed or hurt except the Commodore. Our Lieutenant -of marines, lieutenant Brooks—him as was called the Boston Apollo—the -handsomest man in the sarvice, was cut nearly in two by a cannon shot, -and died before the close of the action. - -“It was nigh on all up with us. The men was real grit though, and even -the wounded, cried, ‘Blow her up,’ rather than strike. Well, as things -stood, there was an end of the Lawrence, so far as fighting went,—and our -Commodore says, says he,—‘Lieutenant Yarnall, the American flag must not -be pulled down over my head this day, while life remains in my body: I -will go on board that ship and bring her myself into action—and I will -leave it to you to pull down the Lawrence’s flag, if there is no help for -it.’ So we got our barge alongside, by the blessing of Heaven, not so -much injured but what she’d float, and off we pushed for the Niagara—the -Commodore standing with his motto flag under his arm; but as soon as the -enemy caught sight of us, they delivered a whole broadside directly at -the boat—and then peppered away so briskly, that the water all around us -bubbled like a duck-pond in a thunder shower. There Perry stood, erect -and proud, in the starn sheets—his pistols strapped in his belt, and his -sword in his hand—his eyes bent upon the Niagara,—as if he’d jump the -distance,—never heeding the shot flying around him like hail. The men -begged him to sit down—they entreated him with tears in their eyes—but it -was not until I dragged him down by main force,—the men declaring that -they would lay upon their oars and be taken—that he consented. - -“There’s them as says the Niagara _wouldn’t_ come down, and there’s them -as says she _couldn’t_—all _I_ knows is, that when our gallant young -Commodore took the quarter-deck, she walked down into the thickest of it -quick enough—my eyes! how we did give it to ’em, blazing away from both -sides at once. We ran in between the Detroit and Charlotte, our guns -crammed to the muzzle, and delivered both of our broadsides into them at -the same time—grape, cannister and all,—raking the others as we passed; -and the Niagara lads showed it wasn’t no fault of their’n, that they -hadn’t come earlier to their work. I never know’d guns sarved smarter, -than they sarved their’n, till the end of the action—nor with better -effect. We soon silenced the enemy, and run up the stars again on the -Lawrence as she lay a complete wrack, shattered and cut up among them, -for all the world like a dead whale surrounded by shirks. They struck one -after another, much like you may have seen the flags of a fleet run down -after the evening gun; and as the firing ceased, and the heavy smoke bank -rolled off to leeward, shiver my timbers! but it was a sight for a Yankee -tar to see the striped bunting slapping triumphantly in the breeze over -the British jacks at their gaffs. - -“If there’s any man, tho’, as says that their Commodore wasn’t a man -every inch of him, aye! and as good a seaman, too, as ever walked a -caulked plank, there’s one here, and his name’s Bill Kennedy, as will -tell him, that he’s a know-nothing, and talks of a better man nor -himself. Aye—aye—scrape the crown off his buttons, and he might mess -with Decatur and Lawrence, and splice the main-brace with Stewart and -Hull, and they be proud of his company. He was badly cut up, tho’, and -I have hear’n tell, that when he got home to England, he wouldn’t go -for to see the lady what he’d engaged to marry, but sent her word by a -friend—I don’t know who that friend was—but suppose it was his first -lieutenant, in course,—he sends her word that he wouldn’t hold her to her -engagement—cause why, says he, ‘I’m all cut to pieces, and an’t the man I -was, when she engaged for to be my wife.’ Well, what d’ye think the noble -girl says, when she hearn this;—‘Tell him,’ says she, ‘as long as there’s -enough of him left to hold his soul, I will be his.’—I say, Master Tom, -that’s most up to the Virginny gals. Well—well—there never was but one, -as would have said as much for Bill Kennedy, and she, poor Sue—she -married curly-headed Bob, captain of the main-top in the Hornet,—in a -pet, and was sorry when it was too late. She was a good girl, though—and -I’ve lent her and her young ones a hand once’t or twice since in the -breakers.” - - - - -OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER. - - -(Chesapeake and Shannon—Boat Fight on Lake Ontario.) - -No. IV. - -“Well, Mr. Kennedy,” says Lee, “you have told us of your victories,—have -you always been victorious—have you always had the luck on your -side,—where did you lose your arm?” The old man took a long and -deliberate survey of the horizon ahead of us, apparently not well -pleased with a dark cloud just beginning to lift itself above its edge; -but whatever inferences he drew from it he kept to himself, and having -relieved his mouth from the quid, and replenished the vacuum by a fresh -bite of the pig-tail, he leisurely turned to us again, and replied with -some emphasis—‘Them as fights the English, fights men—and though it’s -been my luck to be taken twice by them, once’t in the unlucky Chesapeake, -and once’t on the lakes, and though I owes the loss of my flipper to a -musket marked G.R., I hopes I bears them no more grudge than becomes a -true yankee sailor. Now, speaking of that, I’ve always obsarved, since -the war, when our ships is in the same port, that however much we -always fights, when we falls in with each other, that the moment the -English or Americans gets into a muss with the French, or the Dutch, or -the Spaniards, that we makes common cause, and tumbles in and helps one -another—but I’m blest! but that Chesapeake business was a bad affair. -They took the ship;—let them have the credit of it, say I;—but no great -credit neither; for half the men was foreigners in a state of mutiny, -and none of the men know’d their officers. I hearn Captain Lawrence say -himself, after he was carried below, that when he ordered the bugle-man -to sound, to repel boarders, the cursed Portuguese was so frightened, or -treacherous, that no sound came from the bugle, though his cheeks swelled -as if in the act; and I hearn a British officer say to one of our’n, -that Captain Lawrence owed his death to his wearing a white cravat into -action, and that a sharp-shooter in their tops picked him off, knowing as -how, that no common man would be so dressed. I don’t complain of their -getting the best of it, for that’s the fortune of war; but they behaved -badly after the colours was hauled down. They fired down the hatches, -and“—lifting his hat, and exhibiting a seam that measured his head from -the crown to the ear—”I received this here slash from the cutlash of a -drunken sailor, for my share, as I came up the main-hatch, after she -surrendered—My eyes! all the stars in heaven was dancing before me as -I tumbled back senseless on the gun-deck below; and when they brought -the ship into Halifax, she smelt more like a slaughter-house nor a -Christian man-of-war. Howsomever, they whipt us, and there’s an end of -the matter—only I wish’t our gallant Lawrence might have died before the -colours came down, and been spared the pain of seeing his ship in the -hands of the enemy. It was what we old sailors expected, though. She was -an unlucky ship, and that disgraceful affair between her and the Leopard, -was enough to take the luck out of any ship. Now if it had been “Old -Ironsides,”[1] or the “Old Wagon,”[2] I’m blessed! but the guns would -have gone off themselves, had the whole crew mutinied and refused to come -to quarters, when they heard the roar of the British cannon—aye, aye, -Old Ironsides’ bull-dogs have barked at John Bull often enough, aye, and -always held him by the nose, too, when they growled—but the Chesapeake’s -colours was hauled down, while the Shannon’s was flying.—That’s enough—we -had to knock under—let them have the credit of it, say I.—They’d little -cause, except in that ere fight, to crow over the Yankee blue jackets. -They whipt us, and there’s an end of the matter, and be damned to -’em.—But that ain’t answering your question, as how I lost my larboard -flipper. It wasn’t in that ere unfortunate ship, altho’ if it would have -saved the honour of the flag, Bill Kennedy would willingly have given -his head and his arms too—but it was under Old Chauncey on Lake Ontario. -It was in a boat expedition on that ’ere lake, that I first got a loose -sleeve to my jacket, besides being made a pris’ner into the bargain. You -see, Sir James was shut up in Kingston, and beyond the harbour there -was a long bay or inlet setting up some three or four miles. Now, the -Commodore thought it mought be, there was more of his ships in that -same bay; so he orders Lieutenant ——, him as the English called the -‘Dare-devil Yankee,’—the same as went in with a barge the year before -and burned a heavy armed schooner on the stocks, with all their stores, -and came away by the light of it—at—at—I misremember the place—he orders -him to proceed up the bay to reconniter—to see whether there was any of -the enemy’s ships at anchor there—to get all the information he could of -his movements, and to bring off a prisoner if he could catch one—that -the Commodore mought overhaul him at his leisure. So the lieutenant -takes a yawl as we had captured some days before, having Sir James’s -own flag painted upon her bows, with midshipman Hart, and eight of us -men, and pulls leisurely along shore, till we made the entrance of the -bay. It was a bright summer afternoon, and the water was as calm as -the Captain’s hand-basin—not a ripple to be seen. Well, the entrance -was narrow, and somewhat obstructed by small islands; but we soon got -through them, never seeing two heavy English men-of-war barges, as was -snugly stowed in the bushes; but about three miles up, we spies a raft of -timber, with two men on it. We gave way, and before long got up abreast -of it. When we got close aboard the raft, the lieutenant hailing one -of the men, calls him to the side nearest the boat, and says—‘My man, -what are you lying here for, doing nothing—the wind and tide are both in -your favour—don’t you know we are waiting down at Kingston for this here -timber for his Majesty’s sarvice—what are you idling away your time for -here?’ The feller first looks at Sir James’s flag painted upon the bows -of the yawl; and then at the lieutenant, and then again at the flag—and -then at the lieutenant—and then opens his eyes, and looks mighty scarey, -without saying anything, with his mouth wide open,—‘I say,’ says the -Lieutenant agin, ‘I say, you feller with the ragged breeches, do you mean -to swallow my boat—why don’t you answer—what the devil are you doing -here?’ The feller scratches his head, and then stammers, ‘I—I—_I_ know -_you_—you are him as burnt Mr. Peter’s schooner last year.’ ‘Well,’ says -the Lieutenant, ‘what are you going to do with this here timber.’ ‘I’m -carrying it down for a raising,’ says he. ‘What!’ says the Lieutenant, -‘do you use ship’s knees and transom beams for house raising in this part -of the country? It won’t do, my man. Bear a hand, my lads, and pile all -the boards and light stuff in the centre, and we’ll make a bonfire in -honour of his most sacred Majesty.’ So we set fire to it, and took the -spokesman on board the yawl,—towing the other man in their skiff astarn, -intending to release them both when we had got all the information that -we wanted out of them. We returned slowly down the bay again, the blazing -raft making a great smoke; but as we neared the outlet, what does we see, -but them two heavy barges pulling down to cut us off. We had to run some -distance nearly parallel with them, an island intervening—so we every -moment came nearer to them, and soon within speaking distance. The men -gave way hearty—in fear of an English prison, but as we came nearer each -other, some of the officers in the English boats recognises Lieutenant -——, cause why—they had been prisoners with us—and hails him—“G——,” says -they, ‘you must submit, it’s no use for you to resist, we are four to -your one. Come, old feller, don’t make any unnecessary trouble, but give -up—you’ve got to knock under.’ The Lieutenant said nothing,—but he was a -particular man, and had his own notions upon the subject, for, bidding -the men give way, he coolly draws sight upon the spokesman with his -rifle, and most sartin, as he was a dead shot, there would have been a -vacant commission in His Majesty’s Navy, hadn’t the raftsman, who was -frightened out of his wits, caught hold of him by the tails of his coat -and dragged him down into the bottom of the boat. The Lieutenant drops -his rifle, and catches the feller by his legs and shoulders and heaves -him clear of the boat towards the skiff—while we men, dropping our oars, -gave them a volley with our muskets, and then laid down to it again. We -had taken them by surprise, but as we dashed along ahead, they returned -our fire with interest, peppering some of our lads and killing Midshipman -Hart outright, who merely uttered an exclamation as his oar flew up above -his head, and he fell dead in the bottom of the boat. Well, we see’d -the headmost barge all ready, lying on her oars and waiting for us, and -as there was no running the gauntlet past her fire, we made for another -opening from the bay as didn’t appear to be obstructed, but as we nears -it, and just begins to breathe free, three boats full of lobsters, of -red-coats, shoots right across, and closes the entrance effectually on -that side. We was in a regular rat-trap. We had been seen and watched -from the moment we had got inside of the bay, burning the raft and all. -‘Well, my lads,’ says the Lieutenant, ‘this will never do—we must go -about—hug the shore close, and try to push by the barges.’ So about we -went, but as we neared the shore, there was a party of them ’ere riflemen -in their leggins and hunting-shirts, all ready for us, waiting just as -cool and unconsarned as if we was a parcel of Christmas turkies, put up -for them to shoot at. ‘Umph,’ says the Lieutenant again, ‘’twon’t do -for them fellers to be cracking their coach-whips at us neither—we’ve -nothing to do for it, my boys, but to try our luck, such as it is, with -the barges.’ So as we pulled dead for the entrance of the bay, they lay -on their oars, all ready for us, and as we came up, they poured such a -deadly fire into that ere yawl as I never seed before or since. There -was nineteen wounds among eight of us. The Lieutenant was the only one -unhurt, though his hat was riddled through and through, and his clothes -hung about him in tatters. How he was presarved, is a miracle, for he was -standing all the while in the starn-sheets, the most exposed of any on -board. They kept firing away, as if they intended to finish the business, -and gin no quarter, the men doing what little they could to pull at the -oars; but a boat of wounded and dying men couldn’t make much headway. Our -men was true Yankee lads, tho’—and no flinching. - -“There was one man named Patterson, as pulled on the same thwart with -me, and of all the men I’ve ever sailed with, he showed most of what -I calls real grit. At their first volley, he gets a shot through his -thigh, shattering the bone so that it hung twisted over on one side, but -he pulls away at his oar as if nothing had happened. Presently another -passes through his lungs, and comes out at his back—still he pulls away, -and didn’t give in;—at last, a third takes him through the throat, and -passes out back of his neck;—then, and not till then, did he call out to -the lieutenant—‘Mr. G—, I’m killed, sir;—I’m dead;—I can’t do no more.’ -So the lieutenant says—‘Throw your oar overboard, Patterson, and slide -down into the bottom of the boat, and make yourself as comfortable as you -can.’ Well—what does Patterson do, as he lays in the bottom of the boat -bleeding to death, what does he do but lifts his arm over the gunwale, -and shaking his fist, cry, ‘Come on, damn ye, one at a time, and I’m -enough for ye as I am.’ Aye, aye, Patterson was what I calls real grit. -He was a good, quiet, steady man, too, on board ship; always clean and -ac_tyv_e, and cheerful in obeying orders. Howsomever, his time had come, -and in course there was an end of his boat duty in this world. - -“Well—they continued to fire into us as fast as they could load, cause -why, they was aggravated that so small a force should have fired into -them; but the lieutenant takes off his hat and makes a low bow, to let -them know as how he had surrendered, and then directs me to hold up an -oar’s blade; but they takes no notice of neither, and still peppered -away; but just as we concludes that they didn’t intend to give no -quarter, but meant to extarminate us outright, they slacks firing, and, -taking a long circuit, as if we’d have been a torpedo, or some other -dangerous combustible, pulled up aboard. There wasn’t much for them to -be afeard on though, for with the exception of the lieutenant, who was -untouched, there was nothing in the boat but dead and wounded men. -They took us in tow, and carried us down to Kingston, and mighty savage -was Sir James;—he said that it was unpardonable that so small a force -should have attempted resistance, and he and the lieutenant getting -high, and becoming aggravated by something as was said between them, -Sir James claps him in a state-room under arrest, and keeps him there -under a sentry, with a drawn baggonet, for nigh on two months. After -that he sends the lieutenant to Quebec, and then to England, where he -remained till the close of the war; but them of us men as didn’t die of -our wounds was kept down in Montreal, until——” Here the old man broke -off abruptly, and taking another long look at the horizon, said, “If I -a’nt much mistaken, Master Tom, there’s something a-brewing ahead there, -as will make this here craft wake up, as if she was at the little end -of a funnel, with a harricane pouring through the other—and if I knows -the smell of a Potomac thundergust, we’ll have it full blast here before -we’re many minutes older.” - -[1] Frigate Constitution. - -[2] Frigate United States. - - - - -LEE’S PARTISAN LEGION. - - -Old Kennedy quietly proceeded to make the necessary preparations to -encounter the tempest. His peacoat was got out of the locker, and tightly -buttoned about him, and his tarpaulin well secured by its lanyard to -his button-hole. The mainsail and foresail were stowed and secured, and -nothing but the jib, the bonnet of which was reefed down, was allowed to -remain spread upon our dark and graceful schooner. - -The cloud in the horizon began to extend itself, increasing and -gradually rising and covering the sky, and the old man’s prediction was -evidently about to be fulfilled. A dead calm lay upon the river, and a -preternatural stillness clothed in a sort of stupor the whole face of -nature around us; while low muttering rolls of thunder from the dark -cloud, and the frequent, sudden, crinkling lightning, glittering across -its surface, warned us that we were about to encounter one of those -violent and terrible thunder-storms which not unfrequently occur in this -part of the country. - -The distant muttering in the horizon rapidly became louder, and the -perfect stillness of the forest was broken. The melancholy sighs of the -coming blast increased to wails,—the boughs of the trees rubbed against -each other with a slow, see-saw motion, and, as the storm increased, -grated with a harsh and continued groaning. The lightning became quick -and incessant, and blindingly vivid, and the dark gloom of the forest -was rendered still darker by its rapid glare. The river itself soon was -lashed into foam behind us, and in a few moments more, accompanied by -huge clouds of dust, the tempest came roaring upon us. The cultivated -fields and cheerful plantations which were but now smiling in quietness -and repose, on the other side of the river, were now instantly shut out -by the deep gloom. As the gust struck the schooner, she checked for a -moment as if in surprise, and then shot forward with the speed of an -arrow from the bow, swept on in the furious tempest as if she had been a -gossamer or feather, enveloped in dust and darkness, the rain and hail -hissing as it drove onwards, and the terrific thunder, now like whole -broadsides of artillery, now quick and incessant peals of musquetry, -roaring with frightful violence around her, while the deep black forest, -lit up by the blue lightning, bellowed incessantly with the hollow -echoes. As we swept forward with frantic swiftness, a quivering white -flash struck the top of an immense oak, and ere the crashing, deafening -roar of the thunder followed, it was torn and splintered, shivered and -burning, hurled on by the blast. - -As soon as the squall struck us, we ensconced ourselves below, in full -confidence of our safety with Old Kennedy at the helm; and a fine subject -would the old seaman have been for a painter, as he sat amid the fury of -the storm, stern and erect, the tiller under the stump of his left arm, -and the jib-sheets with one turn around the cleet in his right hand—the -usual surly expression of his countenance increased into grim defiance, -as he steadily and unmovingly kept his eyes fixed into the gloom ahead. -At one time we darted by a sloop at anchor, which had let go every thing -by the run, her sails over her side in the water, on which, if the yacht -had struck, she would have been crumpled up like a broken egg-shell; but -thanks to our old Quartermaster’s care, we dashed by in the gloom, his -eyes never even for a moment turning on her as we passed. - -The storm swept us on in its fury for some time, when it gradually abated -in violence, and began to subside. The heavy clouds, flying higher and -higher in detached masses in the heavens, by and bye lifted themselves in -the western sky, and through the ragged intervals the setting sun poured -his last rays over the dripping forest, bronzing the dark sides of our -little schooner as he sunk and disappeared beneath the horizon. As the -evening wore on, a star here and there discovered itself struggling amid -the scud flying over it, and presently the moon shone out with her broad -and silver light, and every vestige of the storm had disappeared. - -As we glided gaily on, with a fresh, fine breeze, towards our cottage -home past the deep forest, the silence was broken by a long, melancholy -howl, which I supposed was that of a solitary wolf, but Lee said that -it was more probably from some one of the large breed of dogs which -are found on most of the plantations. Lee’s mind was of a sad and -pensive, although not at all of a gloomy cast; and like most men of -that character, he required strong excitement to arouse him; but when -aroused, of all delightful companions that I have ever met, he was the -man. The excitement of the storm had been sufficient stimulus, and giving -the reins to his wild spirits and excited feelings, he entertained us -with an incessant stream of anecdote and adventure. The howl of the -wolf had recalled to mind an incident in the life of his ancestor, -Lieutenant-Colonel Lee, and in connection, he related it with many other -adventures of the celebrated Partisan Legion. I will not attempt to use -his beautiful and spirit-stirring language, but will confine myself to -a few disjointed anecdotes, of the many which he related of the dashing -corps, as they happen to recur to my memory. - -The Legion, intended to act independently or conjointly with the main -army, as circumstances might require, was composed of three companies -of infantry, and three troops of cavalry, amounting in all to three -hundred and fifty men, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Lee, who, -every inch a soldier, had won for himself in the Southern campaigns, -and particularly in the masterly retreat of Green, before Cornwallis, -the honourable distinction of being called “the eye of the Southern -army.” He was Green’s confidential adviser and constant friend:—a stern -disciplinarian, he was nevertheless beloved by his officers and men, and -so careful was he of the interests of the latter, that while the rest of -the army were suffering, the Legion by his exertions was always retained -in the highest state of personal appearance and discipline. The horses -were powerful and kept in high condition;—indeed Lee has been accused of -being more careful for their safety than for that of his men. The cavalry -in the British army mounted on inferior horses, could not stand a moment -before them; and armed with their long heavy sabres, Lee’s troopers were -considered full match for double the force of the enemy. - -The Legion infantry were well equipped, and thoroughly disciplined men, -and acted in unison with the cavalry. They were commanded by Captain -Michael Rudolph, a man of small stature, but of the most determined -and daring courage, and of great physical strength. He always led in -person the “forlorn hope,” when the Legion’s services were required in -the storm of posts, and he was so completely the idol of his men, that -it was only necessary that he should be detailed on duty of the most -desperate character, that the infantry, to a man, were anxious to be -engaged in it. The leading captain of the cavalry, James Armstrong, was -almost precisely his counterpart in person, in strength, in undaunted -courage and heroic daring, beloved by his men, ahead of whom he was -always found in the charge. O’Neal, also of the cavalry, was a bold and -gallant man, who fought his way up from the ranks; for no carpet knight -had consideration in the corps. In an early part of his career, he came -near cutting off in the bud, Cornwallis’ favourite cavalry officer, -Lieutenant-Colonel Tarleton; for this officer, whatever his merits or -demerits, endeavoured to enter a window at which O’Neal was posted, when -the latter, dropping his carabine, snapped it within an inch of his head, -but the piece missing fire, Tarleton very coolly looked up at him with a -smile, and said, “You have missed it for this time, my lad,” and wheeling -his horse, joined the rest of his troop, who were on the retreat. - -It were perhaps difficult to select the brave from a body of men who -were all brave, but it is not invidious to say, that there was not a -man of more fearless courage in the corps than Lieutenant Manning of -the Legion infantry. At the battle of Eutaw, commanding his platoon to -charge, he rushed on in his usual reckless manner, without stopping or -looking behind him, until he was brought up by a large stone house, into -which the Royal York Volunteers under Lieutenant-Colonel Cruger, were -retiring. The British were on all sides, and no American soldier within -two hundred yards of him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he threw himself -upon a British officer, and seizing him by the collar, wrested his sword -from his grasp, exclaiming, in a harsh voice, “You are my prisoner, sir.” -Interposing him between the enemy and himself, as a shield from the heavy -fire pouring from the windows, he then very coolly and deliberately -backed out of danger: the prisoner, who was not deemed by his brother -officers a prodigy of valour, pompously enumerating his rank and titles, -which Manning occasionally interrupted with, “You are right—you are -right—you’re just the man, sir,—you shall preserve _me_ from danger, and -rest assured I’ll take good care of _you_.” - -Manning had retreated some distance from the house, when he saw his -friend Captain Joyett, of the Virginia line, engaged in single combat -with a British officer. The American was armed with his sword, while the -Briton was defending himself with a bayonet. As the American approached, -the Englishman made a thrust with the bayonet, which Joyett successfully -parried with his sword, when both of them dropping the arms which they -could not wield in so close an encounter, simultaneously clinched, and -being men of great and nearly equal bodily strength, they were soon -engaged in a desperate and deadly struggle. While thus engaged, an -English grenadier seeing the danger of his officer, ran up and with his -bayonet made a lounge, which luckily missing Joyett’s body, passed only -through the skirts of his coat, but the bayonet becoming entangled in -the folds, upon its withdrawal dragged both of the combatants together -to the ground. The soldier having disengaged it, was about deliberately -to transfix Joyett by a second thrust, when Manning, seeing the danger -of his friend, without being sufficiently near in the crisis to assist -him, called out as he hurried up in an authoritative tone, “You would -not murder the gentleman, you brute!”—The grenadier supposing himself -addressed by one of his own officers, suspended the contemplated blow -and turned towards the speaker, but before he could recover from his -surprise, Manning cut him across the eyes with his sword, while Joyett -disengaging himself from his opponent, snatched up the musket, and -with one blow laid him dead with the butt;—the valiant prisoner whom -Manning had dragged along, and who invariably asserted that he had been -captured by “Joyett, a huge Virginian,”—instead of Manning, who was a -small man—standing a horror-struck spectator of the tragedy. An equally -brave man was Sergeant Ord, of Manning’s company;—in the surprise of -the British at Georgetown, when a company of the Legion infantry had -captured a house with its enclosures, the enemy made an attempt to -regain it; the commanding officer calling out to his men, “Rush on, my -brave fellows—they are only militia, and have no bayonets;”—Ord placing -himself in front of the gate as they attempted to enter, laid six of -them in succession, dead at his feet, accompanying each thrust with—“Oh! -no bayonets here—none to be sure!”—following up his strokes with such -rapidity that the party were obliged to give up the attempt and retire. - -But perhaps there could have been no two characters in the corps more -the perfect antipodes of each other, than the two surgeons of the -cavalry, Irvine and Skinner, for while Irvine was entirely regardless -of his person, and frequently found engaged sword in hand, in the -thickest of the fight, where his duty by no means called him, Skinner -was as invariably found in the rear, cherishing his loved person from -the threatened danger. Indeed he was a complete counterpart of old -Falstaff;—the same fat and rotund person—the same lover of good cheer -and good wine—and entertaining the same aversion to exposing his dear -body to the danger of missiles or cuts;—not only was he a source of fun -in himself, “but he was the cause of it in others.” He asserted that his -business was in the rear—to cure men, not to kill them; and when Irvine -was wounded at the charge of Quinby’s bridge, he refused to touch him, -until he had dressed the hurts of the meanest of the soldiers, saying -that Matthew Irvine was served perfectly right, and had no business to be -engaged out of his vocation. At the night alarm at Ninety-six, Colonel -Lee, hastening forward to ascertain the cause, met the Doctor in full -retreat, and stopping him, addressed him, with—“Where so fast, Doctor—not -frightened I hope,”—“No, Colonel,” replied Skinner—“not frightened—but I -confess, most infernally alarmed.” His eccentricities extended not alone -to his acts, but to every thing about him. Among other peculiarities, -he wore his beard long, and unshorn, and upon being asked by a brother -officer why he did so, he replied, that “that was a secret between Heaven -and himself, which no human impertinence should ever penetrate.” Like -Falstaff, and with similar success, he considered himself the admired -of the fair sex,—“Ay!” said he, to Captain Carns, of the infantry, “Ay, -Carns, I have an _eye_!” Yet Skinner was by no means a man to be trifled -with, for he was not devoid of a certain sort of courage, as he had -proved in half a dozen duels, in one of which he had killed his man. When -asked how it was, that he was so careful of his person in action, when he -had shown so plainly that he was not deficient in courage,—he replied, -“That he considered it very arrogant in a surgeon, whose business it was -to cure, to be aping the demeanour and duty of a commissioned officer, -and that he was no more indisposed to die than other gentlemen, but -that he had an utter aversion to the noise and tumult of battle,—that -it stunned and stupified him.” On one occasion, when the Legion was -passing through a narrow defile, the centre was alarmed by the drums -of the infantry beating to arms in front,—Skinner, with the full sense -of what was due to himself, whirled about, and giving his horse a short -turn by the bridle, brought him down on his back in the middle of the -defile, completely blocking it up, and preventing either egress or -ingress—relief or retreat. The infantry and cavalry which had passed the -gorge, immediately deployed on the hill in front, while the remainder -of the Legion, galloping up, were completely severed by this singular -and unexpected obstruction, until Captain Egglestone dismounting some -of his strongest troopers, succeeded in dragging the horse out of the -defile by main force. It turned out that the alarm was false, otherwise -the doctor’s terror might have caused the destruction of one-half of the -corps. - -But to recur to the incident brought to mind by the howling of the wolf. -When the Legion was on its march to form a junction with Marion, on the -little Pedee, it one night encamped in a large field on the southern -side of a stream, with the main road in front. The night passed on very -quietly, until about two or three in the morning, when the officer of -the day reported that a strange noise had been heard by the picquet in -front, on the great road, resembling the noise of men moving through -the adjoining swamp. While he was yet speaking, the sentinel in that -quarter fired his piece, which was immediately followed by the bugle -calling in the horse patroles, the invariable custom upon the approach -of an enemy. The drums instantly beat to arms, and the troops arranged -for defence. The sentries on being questioned, all concurred in the -same account, “and one patrol of horse asserted that they had heard -horsemen concealing with the greatest care their advance.” Lee was in -great perplexity, for he knew that he was not within striking distance -of any large body of the enemy, and that Marion was at least two days -distance in advance; but soon a sentinel in another direction fired, and -the same report was brought in from him; and it was apparent, however -unaccountable, that the enemy were present. A rapid change in the -formation of the troops was made to meet the attack in this quarter, -but it was hardly accomplished before the fire of a third sentinel in a -different direction, communicated the intelligence of danger from another -quarter. Feelings of intense anxiety were now aroused, and preparations -were made for a general assault, as soon as light should allow it to be -made. The picquets and sentinels held their stations, the horse patrols -were called in, and the corps changed its position in silence, and with -precision upon every new communication, with the combined object of -keeping the fires between them and the enemy, and the horse in the rear -of the infantry. - -While thus engaged, another and rapid discharge by the sentinels, on the -line of the great road, plainly indicated that the enemy were in force, -and that with full understanding of their object, they had surrounded -them. It was also evident that there must be a large body of the enemy, -from their covering so large a segment of the circle around them. It was -equally apparent that they could expect no aid from any quarter, and -relying upon themselves, the corps awaited in extreme anxiety, the scene -which the day was to usher upon them. - -Lee passed along the line of infantry and cavalry, in a low tone urging -upon them the necessity of profound silence, reminding them that in -the approaching contest they must sustain their high reputation, and -expressing his confidence, that with their accustomed bravery, they -would be able to cut their way through all opposing obstacles, and reach -the Pedee. His address was answered by whispers of applause, and having -formed the cavalry and infantry into two columns, he awaited anxiously -the break of day, to give the signal for action. It soon appeared, and -the columns advanced on the great road; infantry in front, baggage in -the centre, and cavalry in the rear. As soon as the head of the column -reached the road, the van officer proceeding a few hundred yards received -the same account that had been given from the sentinel that had fired -last. - -The enigma remained unexplained, and no enemy being in view, there could -be but little doubt that the attack was to be from ambushment, and the -column moved slowly on, expecting every moment to receive their fire. -But the van officer’s attention having been accidentally attracted, he -examined, and found along the road, the tracks of a large pack of wolves. -The mystery was now solved; it was evident that the supposed enemy was -no other than the pack of wild beasts, which, turned from their route -by the fire of the sentinels, had passed still from point to point in a -wide circuit, bent upon the attainment of their object. A quantity of -provisions had been stored some time previously on their line of march, -but having become spoiled, it was abandoned in the vicinity of the -night’s encampment, and the wolves had been disturbed by the videts, in -the nightly progress to their regale. The agitation instantly subsided, -and wit and merriment flashed on all sides, “every one appearing anxious -to shift the derision from himself upon his neighbour, the commandant -himself coming in for his share; and as it was the interest of the many -to fix the stigma on the few, the corps unanimously charged the officer -of the day, the guards, the patrols and picquets, with gross stupidity, -hard bordering upon cowardice:” nevertheless, they were none the less -relieved by the happy termination of an adventure attended by so many -circumstances naturally alarming, and it long passed as an excellent joke -in the Legion, under the title of the “Wolf reconnoitre.” - -The music sounded merrily, and the column marched on, elate with the -fun and novelty of the adventure, and of the buglers none blew a more -cheery strain than little Jack Ellis the bugler of Armstrong’s troop. -He was a fine boy, small and intelligent, as well as young and handsome, -and a general favourite in the Legion. Poor little fellow! he met his -death under circumstances peculiarly tragic and cruel, not long after. -When the Southern army, under Green, was slowly making its masterly -retreat before Cornwallis, the Legion formed part of the rear-guard, and -was consequently almost continually in sight of the van of the enemy, -commanded by Brigadier-General O’Hara. The duty devolving upon it, -severe in the day, was extremely so in the night, for numerous patrols -and picquets were constantly required to be on the alert, to prevent -the enemy from taking advantage of the darkness to get near the main -army by circuitous routes, so that one half of the troops of the rear -guard were alternately put on duty day and night, and the men were not -able to get more than six hours sleep out of the forty-eight. But the -men were in fine spirits, notwithstanding the great fatigue to which -they were subjected. They usually, at the break of day, hurried on, to -gain as great a distance in advance as possible, that they might secure -their breakfast, the only meal during the rapid and hazardous retreat. -One drizzly and cold morning, the officers and dragoons, in pursuance of -this custom, had hurried on to the front, and just got their corn cakes -and meat on the coals, when a countryman, mounted on a small and meagre -pony, came galloping up, and hastily asking for the commanding officer, -he informed him that the British column, leaving the main line of march, -were moving obliquely in a different direction, and that, discovering the -manœuvre from a field where he was burning brush, he had run home, caught -the first horse he could lay his hands upon, and hurried along with the -information. Unwilling to believe the report of the countryman, although -he could not well doubt it, and reluctant to disturb so materially the -comfort of the men, as to deprive them of the breakfast for which they -were waiting with keen appetites, Lee ordered Captain Armstrong to take -one section of horse, accompanied by the countryman, to return on the -route, and having reconnoitred, to make his report. - -Circumstances, however, strengthening him in the belief that the -information of the countryman was correct, he took a squadron of cavalry, -and followed on to the support of Armstrong, whom he overtook at no great -distance ahead. Perceiving no sign of the enemy, he again concluded that -the countryman was mistaken. He therefore directed Armstrong to take the -guide and three dragoons, and to advance still further on the road, while -he returned with the squadron to finish their breakfast. The countryman -mounted on his sorry nag, protested against being thus left to take care -of himself, asserting that though the dragoons on their spirited and -powerful horses were sure of safety, if pursued—he, on his jaded hack, -was equally sure of being taken. Lee acknowledged the danger of the -friendly guide, dismounted the little bugler, and giving the countryman -his horse, he placed Ellis upon the hack, sending him on in front to -report to the commanding officer. After having returned a short distance, -the squadron entered the woods, on the road side, and the dragoons -leisurely proceeded to finish their breakfast—but they had hardly got it -out of their haversacks, when a firing of musketry was heard, and almost -immediately after the clatter of horses’ hoofs coming on at full gallop. -The next moment, Armstrong, with his dragoons and the countryman came in -sight, pursued by a troop of Tarleton’s dragoons, at the top of their -speed. - -Lee saw Armstrong with his small party well in front and hard in hand, -and felt no anxiety about them, as he knew that their horses were so -superior to those of the enemy that they were perfectly safe, but the -danger of the bugler, who could be but little ahead, immediately caused -him serious uneasiness. Wishing however, to let the British squadron -get as far from support as possible, he continued in the woods for a -few moments, intending to interpose in time to save the boy. Having -let them get a sufficient distance, and assuring himself that there -was nothing coming up to their support, he put the squadron in motion -and appeared on the road, but only in time to see the enraged dragoons -overtake and sabre the poor little suppliant, as he in vain implored -for quarter. Infuriated at the sight, he gave orders to charge, and the -English officer had barely time to form, when Lee’s squadron was upon -them like a whirlwind—killing, prostrating, and unhorsing almost the -whole of the force in an instant, while the captain, and the few left -unhurt endeavoured to escape. Ordering Lieutenant Lewis to follow on in -pursuit, with strict orders to give no quarter, an order dictated by the -sanguinary act that they had just witnessed, he placed the dying boy in -the arms of two of the dragoons, directing them to proceed onwards to the -camp, and immediately after pushed on to the support of Lewis, whom he -soon met returning with the English captain and several of his dragoons, -prisoners—the officer unhurt, but the men severely cut in the face, neck, -and shoulders. Reprimanding Lewis on the spot for disobedience of orders, -he peremptorily charged the British officer with the atrocity that they -had just witnessed, and ordered him to prepare for instant death. The -officer urged that he had in vain endeavoured to save the boy, that his -dragoons were intoxicated, and would not obey his orders, and he begged -that he might not be sacrificed, stating that in the slaughter of Lt. -Col. Buford’s command, he had used his greatest exertions, and succeeded -in saving the lives of many of the Americans. This, in some measure -mollified Lee, but just then overtaking the speechless and dying boy, -expiring in the arms of the soldiers, his bright and handsome face, -changed in the ghastly agony of death, he returned with unrelenting -sternness to his first decision and informed the Englishman that he -should execute him in the next vale through which they were to pass, and -furnishing him with a pencil and paper, desired him to make such note -as he wished to his friends, which he pledged him his word should be -sent to the British General. The ill-fated soldier proceeded to write, -when the British van approaching in sight, the prisoner was sent on -to Col. Williams in front, who, ignorant of the murder, and of Lee’s -determination to make an example of him, in his turn, forwarded him on -to head quarters—thus luckily saving his life. Eighteen of the British -dragoons fell in the charge, and were buried by Cornwallis as he came -up, but the American’s had time to do no more than lay the body of the -poor little bugler in the woods on the side of the road, trusting to -the charity of the country people to inter it, when they were obliged -to resume their retreat. It should be borne in mind that Lee’s humane -disposition could only be excited to such summary vengeance by the -cruel and unwarrantable murder that they had just witnessed, and by the -frequent acts of atrocity which had been repeatedly enacted by this same -corps. - -Perhaps the fated destiny which frequently appears to await the -soldier, hanging over him like a shield while he passes through the -most desperate danger, until the appointed hour arrives, was never -more apparent than in the case of Lt. Col. Webster, of the British army -in this same retreat. When the rear of the American army, composed as -has been observed principally by the Legion, had passed the Reedy Fork, -the British van under the command of Webster, endeavoured to ford the -river and bring them into action, a point which Cornwallis was anxious -to attain, but which was entirely foreign to the plan of Greene, whose -object was to wear out his pursuers. Under the cover of a dense fog, -the British had attained a short distance of the Legion before they -were discovered. They made their appearance on the opposite bank of the -river, and after halting a few moments, descended the hill and approached -the water, but receiving a heavy fire of musketry and rifles, they fell -back and quickly reascending, were again rallied on the margin of the -bank. Col. Webster rode up, calling upon the soldiers in a loud voice -to follow, and rushing down the hill, at their head, amid a galling -fire poured from the Legion troops, he plunged into the water. In the -woods occupied by the riflemen, was an old log schoolhouse, a little -to the right of the ford. The mud stuffed between the logs had mostly -fallen out, and the apertures admitted the use of rifles with ease. -In this house Lee had posted five and twenty select marksmen from the -mountain militia, with orders to forego engaging in the general action, -and directions to hold themselves in reserve for any particular object -which might present. “The attention of this party being attracted by -Webster, as he plunged into the water, they singled him out as their -mark. The stream being deep, and the bottom rugged, he advanced slowly, -the soldiers, some of them, holding on by his stirrup-leathers,—and one -by one they discharged their rifles at him, each man sure of knocking -him over, and, having re-loaded, eight or nine of them, emptied their -guns at him a second time, yet strange to relate, neither horse nor rider -received a single ball. The twenty-five marksmen were celebrated for -their superior skill, and it was a common amusement for them to place an -apple on the end of a ramrod and hold it out at arm’s length, as a mark -for their comrades to fire at, when many balls would pass through the -apple, yet the British officer, mounted on a stout horse, slowly moving -through a deep water course, was singled out and fired at thirty-two or -three times successively, and yet remained untouched, and succeeded in -effecting a lodgment on the bank, where he formed his troops under a -heavy fire.” This gallant officer, and polished gentleman, the favourite -of Cornwallis, subsequently fell at the battle of Guilford Court-House, -not more regretted by his brother soldiers, than admired by those of the -American army. - -There is nothing more true, than that in war as in love, much depends -upon accident, and an alarm is frequently conveyed and a victory won, by -circumstances entirely the act of chance. As a case in point. In the -retreat of the British after the battle of Monks’ Corner, Lt. Col. Stuart -ordered all the arms belonging to the dead and wounded to be collected, -and when the retreating enemy had marched on, they were set fire to -by the rear guard. As many of the muskets were loaded, an irregular -discharge followed, resembling the desultory fire which usually precedes -a battle. The retreating army immediately supposed, that Greene was up -and had commenced an attack on their rear—and the dismay and confusion -was so great, that the wagoners cut the traces of their horses and -galloped off, leaving the wagons on the route. The followers of the army -fled in like manner, and the terror was rapidly increasing, when the -cessation of the firing quelled the alarm. - -But the most exciting incident that our fellow voyager related, and one -which would well merit the attention of the painter, was the spirited -affair at Quinby’s Bridge. When the British army in their turn were -retreating, Sumpter, Marion and Lee frequently were able to act in -concert. The 19th British Regiment, Lt. Col. Coates, having become -isolated at Monks’ Corner, Marion and Lee determined to fall upon it, and -cut it off by surprise before it could obtain relief. The British officer -having taken the precaution to secure the bridge across the Cooper river -by a strong detachment, it became necessary for them to make a long -circuit, through the deep sands in the hottest part of the summer, before -they could form a junction with Sumpter, whose aid was required in the -intended attack. The junction was not effected until evening, and the -attack was necessarily deferred until the following morning; but about -midnight the whole sky becoming illuminated by a great conflagration, -it was evident that the enemy had taken the alarm. They had set fire to -the church to destroy the stores, and had decamped in silence. By the -neglect of the militia, who had deserted a bridge at which they were -stationed, the enemy had been able to draw off, and obtain a considerable -distance in advance, before their retreat was discovered. Lee immediately -followed on with the cavalry in pursuit of the main body, but was -unable to come up with it, until he had arrived in the neighbourhood of -Quinby’s Bridge, about eighteen miles from Monks’ Corner. Upon his first -approach, he discovered the baggage of the regiment under a rear guard -of about one hundred men, advancing along a narrow road, the margin of -which was bordered by a deep swamp on both sides. As soon as the cavalry -came in view, the British officer formed his men across the road, which -they had hardly effected, when the charge was sounded, and the Legion -cavalry rushed upon them with drawn swords at full gallop. The voice of -the British officer was distinctly heard: “Front rank,—bayonets—second -rank,—fire!”—and as no discharge immediately followed, the cavalry -officers felt extreme solicitude, lest its reservation was meant to -make it the more fatal on their near approach, for on the narrow road, -and in the close column in which they were rushing on, a well-directed -fire would have emptied half of their saddles—but happily the soldiers, -alarmed by the formidable appearance of the cavalry, threw down their -arms and supplicated for quarter, which the cavalry were most happy to -grant them. The prisoners being secured, the main body of the cavalry -pushed on under Armstrong for the bridge, which was still about three -miles in front, in the hope of cutting off the enemy before they should -succeed in reaching it. As Armstrong came in sight, he found that Coates -had passed the bridge, and that he was indolently reposing on the -opposite side of the river, awaiting his rear guard and baggage. He had, -by way of precaution, taken up the planks from the bridge, letting them -lie loosely on the sleepers, intending as soon as the rear should have -crossed, to destroy it. Seeing the enemy with the bridge thus interposed, -which he knew was contrary to the commandant’s anticipations, Armstrong -drew up, and sent back word to Lee, who was still with the prisoners, -requesting orders, never communicating the fact that the bridge was -interposed. Lee’s adjutant soon came galloping back with the laconic -answer:—“The order of the day, sir, is to fall upon the enemy, without -regard to consequences.” - -The gallant Armstrong for a moment leaned forward in his saddle, -towards the adjutant, as if thunder-struck, with this reflection on his -courage,—in the next his sword glanced like a streak of light around -his head, his noble horse leapt with a snort clear of the ground, as -the spur-rowels were buried to the gaffs in his sides, and in another -shouting in a voice of thunder—“Legion cavalry, charge!” at the head of -his section, he cleared the bridge, the horses throwing off the loose -planks in every direction, the next instant driving the soldiers headlong -from the howitzer which they had mounted at the other end to defend it, -he was cutting and slashing in the very centre of the British regiment, -which, taken completely by surprise, threw down their arms, retreating -in every direction. The horses of Armstrong’s section had thrown off the -planks as they cleared the bridge, leaving a yawning chasm, beneath which -the deep black stream was rushing turbidly onwards; but Lt. Carrington, -at the head of his section, took the leap and closed with Armstrong, -engaged in a desperate personal encounter with Lt. Col. Coates, who had -had barely time to throw himself with a few of his officers behind some -baggage-wagons, where they were parrying the sabre cuts made by the -dragoons at their heads. Most of the soldiers, alarmed at the sudden -attack, had abandoned their officers, and were running across the fields, -to shelter themselves in a neighbouring farm-house. Lee, by this time, -had himself got up to the bridge, where O’Neal, with the third section -had halted, the chasm having been so much enlarged by Carrington’s horses -throwing off additional planks, that his horses would not take the leap, -and seeing the howitzer abandoned, and the whole regiment dispersed, -except the few officers who were defending themselves with their swords, -while they called upon the flying soldiers for assistance, he proceeded -to recover and replace the planks. The river was deep in mud, and still -deeper in water, so that the dragoons could neither get a footing to -re-place the planks, nor a firm spot from which they might swim their -horses to the aid of their comrades. Seeing this posture of affairs, -some of the bravest of the British soldiers began to hurry back to the -assistance of their officers, and Armstrong and Carrington, being unable -to sustain with only one troop of dragoons, so unequal a combat, they -abandoned the contest, forcing their way down the great road, into the -woods on the margin of the stream, in the effort to rejoin the corps. -Relieved from the immediate danger, Coates hastened back to the bridge, -and opened a fire from the deserted howitzer upon Lee and the soldiers, -who were fruitlessly striving to repair the bridge, and being armed only -with their sabres, which the chasm made perfectly useless, as they could -not reach the enemy across it, they were also forced to give up the -attempt, and retire without the range of the fire from the gun. - -Marion shortly after coming up, in conjunction with Lee marched some -distance down the banks, where they were enabled to ford the stream, -and effect a passage. In the edge of the evening, they reached the -farm-house, but found that Coates had fortified himself within it, with -his howitzer, and was thus impregnable to cavalry. “While halting in -front, Armstrong and Carrington came up with their shattered sections. -Neither of the officers were hurt, but many of the bravest dragoons were -killed, and still more wounded. Some of their finest fellows—men, who -had passed through the whole war esteemed and admired, had fallen in -this honourable but unsuccessful attempt.” Being without artillery, and -within striking distance of Charleston, they were obliged, fatigued as -they were, to commence their retreat. Placing the wounded in the easiest -posture for conveyance, and laying the dead on the pommels of their -saddles, the Legion counter-marched fifteen miles; at its close, burying -in sadness and grief in one common sepulchre the bodies of those that had -fallen. - -These anecdotes of the Legion are but a few of the many stirring and -spirited narrations with which Lee whiled away the time, as we glided -along on our return up the river. His own observations and adventures -in travelling over the world were not wanting for our amusement, for, -with a mind well prepared for its enjoyment, he had passed the years -that had intervened, since I last saw him, in travelling leisurely over -Europe and the East. With the true philosophy of life, calling all men -brothers, and restrained by no narrow prejudices of country or habit, he -had entered eagerly into the manners and participated in the amusements -of those around him. First after the hounds in England, he shouted “tally -ho!” with all the enthusiasm of the veriest sportsman in the hunt; while -his voice was heard equally loud and jovial in the wild and half frantic -chorus of the drinking and smoking students of Germany. He scrupled not -to wear his beard long, and partake of the hard black loaf in the cabin -of the Russian boor, while, with equal equanimity he wore his turban, and -smoked his chiboque cross-legged in the caffarets of Turkey. He climbed -the huge pyramids, and their dark and silent chambers echoed the sounds -of his voice, as he called on Cheops, Isis and Orus; and, kneeling in the -gorgeous mosque of Omar, he worshipped the true God, while the muzzeim -from its minarets was proclaiming, that Mahomet was his prophet. He had -luxuriated amid the never-dying works of the great masters at Florence, -and, lulled by the harmonious chaunt of the gondolier, had swept over -the moonlit lagoons of Venice. He had whirled in all the gaiety of -living Paris, and measured with careful steps the silent streets of dead -Herculaneum and Pompeii. He had stood amid the awful stillness on the -glittering ice-covered summits of Mont Blanc, and looked fearlessly -down into the great roaring caverns of fire boiling in the crater of -Vesuvius—but now there was a sadness about his heart which rarely lighted -up, and, as I have observed, it was only under momentary excitement that -he blazed into brilliant entertainment. - -As the fresh breeze wafted us swiftly onwards, Venus, mid the stars -trembling in unnumbered myriads, rivalled with her silvery rays the great -round-orbed moon, sailing joyously in her career high in the heavens -above us,—and soon the bright beacon on the plantation shore, lighted for -our guidance, shone steadily over the dark water, and ere long we were -all quietly seated at the supper-table, with our beautiful hostess at its -head,—again in Tom’s cottage on the banks of the Potomac. - - NOTE.—The incidents related in the above article are derived - from “Lee’s Southern Campaigns” and “Col. Gardner’s Military - Anecdotes,” where, if he has not already perused them, the - reader will find much to interest and amuse him. - - - - -HUDSON RIVER. - - -Here we are met again, all booted and spurred, and ready for another -journey. Come, let us make the most of our time on this mundane sphere, -for verily we are but two of the automata of the great moving panorama -which is so rapidly hastening o’er its surface—two of the unnumbered -millions who, lifted from our cradles, are hurrying with like equal haste -towards the great dark curtain of the future, where, drawing its gloomy -folds aside, we shall pass behind and disappear for ever. Therefore -let us hasten; for though some of us complacently imagine that we are -bound on our own special road and chosen journey, yet, surely we are but -travelling the path which has been marked out for us by an all-seeing -Providence; and though, like soldiers, we may be marching, as we suppose, -to good billets and snug quarters, yet perhaps, before the day’s route -be closed, we shall be plunged into the centre of the battle-field, with -sad curtailment of our history. Tempus fugit! Therefore let us hasten, -for, in a few short years, some modern Hamlet o’er our tomb-stones thus -shall moralize: “Here be two fellows tucked up right cosily in their -last quarters, ‘at their heads a grass-green turf, and at their heels a -stone.’ Humph! for all their stillness, I warrant me, they’ve strutted -their mimic stage, and flaunted with the best; they’ve had their ups and -downs, their whims and fancies, their schemes and projects, their loves -and hates,—have been elated with vast imaginings, and depressed to the -very ocean’s depths; and now their little day and generation passed, -they’re settled to their rest. The school-boy astride on one’s memento, -with muddy heels kicks out his epitaph, while the other’s name is barely -visible among the thistle’s aspiring tops,—yet both alike have rendered, -with the whole human family, the same brief epitome of history. ‘They -laughed—they groaned—they wept—and here they are,’ for such are but the -features of bright, confiding youth, stern manhood’s trials, and imbecile -old age.” And this same sage Hamlet’s right; therefore, without more ado, -let us get us on our travels. - -So, here we are in the Jerseys. Now _westward_ shall lie our -course. Here come the cars. Quick—jump in—here is a good seat, -close by the old gentleman in the India-rubber cape. Ding, -ding—ding, ding. There goes the bell. Shwist, shwist. We are off. -Clank—jirk—click—click—clickety—click—click. Here we go. We fly over the -bridges, and through the tunnels; the rail fences spin by us in ribands; -the mile-stones play leap-frog; the abutments dash by us. Screech! the -cattle jump like mad out of our way. Already at Jersey City? We paddle -across. Ay, here we are, just in time, on board the “Swallow.” What a -pandemonium of racket, and noise, and confusion! Steam yelling, bells -ringing, boys and negroes bawling, porters and hackmen hurrying.—“Get out -of my way, you dirty little baboon, with your papers.”—“Thank you, madam, -no oranges.”—“All aboard.”—Tinkle, tinkle.—The walking-beam rises, the -heavy wheels splash.—We shoot out into the stream.—We make a graceful -curve, and, simultaneously with five other steamers, stretch like -race-horses up the majestic Hudson. - -How beautifully the Narrows and the Ocean open to our view, and the -noble bay, studded with its islands, and fortresses, and men-of-war, -“tall, high admirals,” with frowning batteries and chequered sides. In -what graceful amity float the nations’ emblems—the Tricolour, the Red -Cross, the Black Eagle, the Stars and Stripes. But we take the lead. Fire -up—fire up, engineer,—her namesake cuts the air not more swiftly than -our fleet boat her element. Still as a mirror lies the tranquil water. -The dark pallisades above us, with fringed and picturesque outline, are -reflected on its polished surface; and the lordly sloops, see how lazily -they roll and pitch on the long undulating swell made by our progress, -their scarlet pennons quivering on its surface as it regains its -smoothness. - -How rich and verdant extend thy shores, delightful river! Oh! kindly -spirit—Crayon, Diedrick, Irving, whate’er we call thee,—with what -delightful Indian summer of rustic story, of dreamy legend, hast thou -invested them? Lo! as we slide along, what moving panorama presents -itself? Phlegmatic Mynheers, in sleepy Elysium, evolve huge smoke-wreaths -of the fragrant weed as they watch thy placid stream. Blooming Katrinas, -budding like roses out of their boddices, coquette with adoring -Ichabods,—sturdy, broad-breeched beaux, sound “boot and saddle.” -Roaring Broms dash along on old Gun-powders. Headless horsemen thunder -onwards through Haunted hollows—heads on saddle-bow. Dancing, laughing -negroes—irate, rubicund trumpeters—huge Dutch merry-makings—groaning -feasts, and loafing, hen-pecked Rips, pass in review before us. And now, -as we open the Tappan Zee, see! see Old Hendrick,—see the old fellow in -his scarlet cloak, his gallant hanger, cocked-hat, and many-buttoned -breeches—see how the huge clouds of smoke, encircling his nose, float -upwards, as, seated on his lofty poop, he sluggishly lays his course. -See the old Dutchman—no—stop! stop!—’tis but a creature of thy fantasy, -floating in the setting sunlight. Oh! historian of Columbus, with thy -fellow-spirit, him of the “North Star,” and the “Evening Wind,” gently, -yet sorrowfully you float above the miasma clouds of gain, that in their -poisonous wreaths envelope your countrymen. In the evening twilight thy -beacon, Stony Point, throws far its streaming rays o’er the darkening -scenery, different, I ween, when mid midnight mist and stillness, mid -cannon-blaze and roar, “Mad Anthony’s” attacking columns simultaneously -struck the flag-staff in thy centre. The sparks stream rocket-like from -our chimneys, as we enter your dark embrace, ye Highlands! Hark! the roll -of the drum, as we round the bend—thy beautiful plateau, West Point, with -its gallant spirits, is above us. Success to thee, school of the brave! -Engineers for her hours of peace, soldiers in war to lead her armies, -dost thou furnish to thy country—brave, enduring men. When fell thy sons -other than in the battle’s front? when in the fiercest danger were they -found recreant? Aye, well may Echo answer “When?” - -The thunder of thy bowling balls, Old Hudson, we hear as we pass the -gorges of the Catskill. Hyde Park, thou glancest by us—the villas of the -Rensselaers and Livingstons flit ’mid their green trees,—thy cottages, -oh Kinderhook—the Overslaugh—rush by us, and now we are at Albany. -Albany, Rochester, Utica, by smoaking steam-car, we are delivered from -you. Auburn, we breathe among thy shady walks—and now, for a moment, -Buffalo, we rest with thee. All hail to thee, thou city of the Bison -Bull! Great caravansera and resting-place of coming nations! Byzantium -of the future—hail! As on a quay shall meet hereafter, through the -Lawrence and the Oregon, the hardy seamen of the Atlantic and Pacific, -the Otaheitean and the fair-haired Swede; while the bronzed trapper, the -savage Blackfoot, the greasy Esquimaux, and half-civilized voyageur, -shall mingle with astonishment and admiration on thy busy marts. Hail! -hail! to thee, thou city of the desert lord, all hail! - - - - -NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE. - -(August 14th, 1814.) - - -Hostler! bring up the horses, we will cross to the Canadian shore, and -ride leisurely o’er its battlegrounds. Tighten the girths, John. Take up -another hole. So—never mind the stirrup. Jump—I’m in my saddle. Are you -ready?—_Allons._ Well broken is that grey of yours, he has a good long -trot—how easy it makes your rise in the saddle, and how graceful is the -gait. But here we are at the Ferry. Now, we cross thy stream, Niagara! -Now, we stand on British ground! Generous and gallant blood has deeply -stained its soil! Observe these crumbling works—the old stone fort facing -the river—the remains of ramparts and trenches—here a bastion—further on, -a redoubt—there again lines and earthworks, forming a continuous circle -of defence, but all now fast sinking to their original level. These are, -or rather were, the fortress and defences of “Fort Erie.” When some -years since I rode over the ground with our kind and excellent friend, -the Major, I listened with great interest to his narration of the part -of the campaign acted upon this spot and the adjoining country. I will -repeat it to you as we ride over it. Jump your horse upon this decaying -mound—it was a bastion. - -Standing on this bastion, “Here,” said the Major, “we had thrown up our -lines, making the defences as strong as practicable. The British had -also erected formidable works about half a mile in front, (the forest -intervening,) composed of a large stone battery on their left, and two -strong redoubts, from which they kept up an incessant discharge of shot -and shells for several successive days, which was returned by us with -equal vigour. At length a shell from their batteries having fallen upon -it, blew up one of our small magazines, but with trifling injury to the -rest of the defences. They greatly miscalculated the damage, and were -elated with their success, and General Gaines received secret information -that they intended to carry the works by storm on the following night. -That night, said the Major, I shall not soon forget. It set in intensely -dark and cloudy, extremely favourable to the design of the enemy. Every -thing was put in the fullest state of preparation to receive them. The -men enthusiastically awaiting the attack, were ordered to lie on their -arms. Extended along the lines, and manning the fort and bastion, our -little army, in perfect silence, awaited their coming. - -The forest had been cleared about three hundred yards in front of -our works—beyond that were, as you see, the woods. As the night -wore on, we listened with earnestness to every sound. A little -after midnight, we heard on the dry leaves the stealthy sound of -footsteps—pat—patter—patter. We listened—they came nearer. A short, -sharp challenge: “Who goes there?” issued from that farther redoubt. The -footsteps ceased, as if irresolute to advance or recede, and all was -still. Another quick challenge—a rattle of the musket, as it fell into -the hollow of the hand,—followed the reply:—“Picquet guard, forced in -by the enemy’s advance”—“Back, guard! back to your posts instantly, or -we will fire upon you,” rung the stern voice of our commanding officer. -The footsteps of the stragglers slowly receded, and entire stillness -again obtained. It was as profound as the darkness, not even the hum -of an insect rose upon the ear. We laid our heads upon the ramparts, -and listened with all our faculties. We listened. Perhaps half an hour -elapsed, when we imagined we heard the dead, heavy sound of a large -body of men—tramp—tramp—tramp—advancing through the pitchy darkness. A -few moments passed—a brisk scattering fire, and the picquets came in -in beautiful order, under the brave subaltern in command. The measured -tread of disciplined troops became apparent. Every sense was stretched -to the utmost in expectancy—every eye endeavoured to fathom the darkness -in front, when, from Towson’s battery, that towards the river, glanced -a volley of musquetry, and in another instant, the whole line of the -works, bastion, redoubt, and rampart, streamed forth one living sheet -of flame. Two eighteens, mounted where we stand, were filled to the -muzzle with grape, cannister, and bags of musket-bullets—imagine their -havoc. The enemy came on with loud shouts and undaunted bravery. By the -continued glare of our discharges, we could see dense dark masses of men, -moving in columns to three separate points of attack upon our works. -Our artillery and musketry poured on them as they advanced a continual -stream of fire, rolling and glancing from angles, bastions, and redoubts. -Repulsed—they were re-formed by their officers, and brought again to the -charge, to be again repulsed. At such times, hours fly like minutes. A -life appears concentrated to a moment. We had been engaged perhaps an -hour—perhaps three, when I heard in that bastion of the Fort, a hundred -feet from me, above the uproar, a quick, furious struggle, as if of men -engaged in fierce death-fight; a clashing of bayonets, and sharp pistol -shots, mixed with heavy blows, and short quick breathing, such as you may -have heard men make in violent exertion—in cutting wood with axes, or -other severe manual labour. The conflict, though fierce, was short—the -assailants were repelled. Those that gained a footing were bayonetted, or -thrown back over the parapet. In a few moments, I heard again the same -fierce struggle, and again followed the like result and stillness—if -stillness could be said to exist under continual roar of musketry and -artillery. A third time it rose, sudden and desperate; it ceased, and -presently a clear loud voice rose high above the battle from the bastion: -“Stop firing in front there, you are firing on your friends.” An instant -cessation followed. We were deceived. In another moment, the voice of -an officer with startling energy replied: “Aye, aye, we’ll stop: give -it them, men, give it them!”—and the firing, renewed, was continued -with redoubled fury. The head of the centre column, composed of eight -hundred picked men, the veterans of Egypt, led by Lieut. Col. Drummond -in person, after three several assaults, had gained possession of the -bastion, and by that ruse, endeavoured to cause a cessation of the fire—a -result that might have been fatal to us, had not the deception been so -soon discerned. But the prize was of little value, as the bastion was -commanded by the interior of the works, and the men, under cover of the -walls of an adjoining barrack, poured into the gorge that led from it, -a continued storm of musketry. The firing continued with unabated fury. -The enemy, repulsed with great loss in every attack, was unsuccessful -on every point save that bastion, the possession of which they still -retained—when I heard a groaning roll and shake of the earth, and -instantly the bastion, bodies of men, timber, guns, earth and stones, -were blown up in the air like a volcano, making every thing in the glare -as clear as noon-day. A descending timber dashed one of my artillerymen -to pieces within a foot of my shoulder. Profound darkness and silence -followed. Naught but the groans of the wounded and dying were heard. -As if by mutual consent, the fighting ceased, and the enemy withdrew, -repulsed on every side, save from the parapet which they purchased for -their grave. A large quantity of fixed ammunition had been placed in -the lower part, and a stray wad falling upon it, had blown them all up -together. My duty required that I should immediately repair the bastion, -and most horrible was the sight—bodies burnt and mutilated—some of them -still pulsating with life, among them Lieut. Colonel Drummond, the leader -of the attack. There he lay in the morning light, stark and stiff, -extended on the rampart, a ball having passed through his breast. History -mourns, that his courage assumed the character of ferocity. His war-cry -of “No quarter to the damned Yankees,” his own death-warrant, was long -remembered against his countrymen. The enemy did not resume the attack, -but retiring to their entrenched camp, strengthened their works, and -prepared to make their approach by regular advances. - -But come, spur on, we have far to ride—spur on. Here we are upon their -works. Here is the stone water-battery, and there the two strong -redoubts, and back of them the remains of their lines, and deep -entrenchments. These are the works which were carried in the memorable -and desperate sortie of Fort Erie. The right by Davis and Miller; the -left by Porter and his volunteers. Here, on the left, quoth the Major, -fell my gallant, my accomplished friend, Lieut. Col. Wood, at the head of -his column. He was one of the most brilliant officers in the service, and -as beautiful as a girl. I often gazed with astonishment at the desperate -daring that characterised him in action; here he fell; he was bayonetted -to death on the ground, on this spot“—and the Major’s voice quivered, -and he turned his face from me, for the cruel death of his dear friend -was too much for his manhood. His ashes sleep amid the Highlands of the -Hudson, beneath their monument, near the flag-staff at West Point. Peace -to his gallant spirit! The stars of his country can wave over no braver -of her sons. - - - - -BATTLE OF LUNDY’S LANE. - - -We cross thy tranquil plains, Oh! Chippewa. -Scott—Ripley—Towson—Hindman—brave soldiers; long will this battle-ground -your names remember. And thou too, Riall! brave Englishman, foeman wert -thou worthy of warriors’ steel. But far different music has resounded -through these continuous woods than the wild bird’s carol, the hum of -insects, and the waving of the breeze that now so gently greets our -ear. Ay! yonder it is—yonder is the white house. There, said the Major, -as General Scott, making a forward movement with his brigade in the -afternoon of the 25th of July, 1814, came in view of it, we saw the -court-yard filled with British officers, their horses held by orderlies -and servants in attendance. As soon as we became visible to them, -their bugles sounded to saddle, and in a few moments they were mounted -and soon disappeared through the woods at full gallop, twenty bugles -ringing the alarm from different parts of the forest. All vanished as -if swallowed by the earth, save an elegant veteran officer, who reined -up just out of musket shot, and took a leisurely survey of our numbers. -Having apparently satisfied himself of our force, he raised the plumed -hat from his head, and bowing gracefully to our cortege, put spurs to -his horse and disappeared with the rest. From the occupant of the house -we gathered that we were about a mile distant from a strong body of the -enemy, posted in the rising ground just beyond the woods in our front. -General Scott, turning to one of his escort, said, “Be kind enough, sir, -to return to Major General Brown; inform him that I have fallen in with -the enemy’s advance, posted in force at ‘_Lundy’s Lane_,’ and that in one -half hour, I shall have joined battle.” “Order up Ripley with the second -brigade,—direct Porter to get his volunteers immediately under arms,” -was the brief reply of Major General Brown to my message, and the aids -were instantly in their saddles, conveying the orders. As I galloped back -through the woods, continued the Major, the cannon shot screaming by me, -tearing the trees and sending the rail fences in the air in their course, -warned me that the contest had begun.—But we are on the battle-ground. -There, said the Major, upon the verge of that sloping hill, parallel with -the road, and through the grave-yard towards the Niagara, was drawn up -the British line under General Riall, in force three times greater than -our brigade—his right covered with a powerful battery of nine pieces of -artillery, two of them brass twenty-fours. - -The _Eleventh_ and _Twenty-second_ regiments first leaving the wood, -deployed upon the open ground with the coolness and regularity of a -review,—and were soon engaged furiously in action; the fire from the -enemy’s line and from the batteries, which completely commanded the -position, opening upon them with tremendous effect. Towson, having -hurried up with his guns on the left, in vain endeavoured to attain -sufficient elevation to return the fire of their battery. The destruction -on our side was very great;—the two regiments fought with consummate -bravery. They were severely cut up, their ammunition became exhausted, -and their officers nearly all of them having been killed and wounded, -they were withdrawn from action,—the few officers remaining unhurt -throwing themselves into the _Ninth_, which now came into action, led by -the gallant Colonel Leavenworth. - -The brunt of the battle now came upon them, and they alone sustained it -for some time, fighting with unflinching bravery, until their numbers -were reduced to one-half by the fire of the enemy. At this juncture, -General Scott galloped up with the intention of charging up the hill; -but finding them so much weakened, altered his intention, entreating -them to hold their ground until the reinforcements, which were hastening -up, should come to their assistance. A momentary cessation of the -action ensued, while additional forces hurried up to the aid of each -army—Ripley’s brigade, Hindman’s artillery, and Porter’s volunteers, -on the part of the Americans, and a strong reinforcement under General -Drummond on that of the British. Hindman’s artillery were attached -to that of Towson, and soon made themselves heard. Porter’s brigade -displayed on the left, while Ripley formed on the skirts of the wood -to the right of Scott’s brigade. The engagement was soon renewed, with -augmented vigour; General Drummond taking command in person, with his -fresh troops in the front line of the enemy. Colonel Jesup, who had at -the commencement of the action been posted on the right, succeeded, after -a gallant contest, in turning the left flank of the enemy, and came in -upon his reserve, “burdened with prisoners, making himself visible to his -own army, amid the darkness, in a blaze of fire,” completely destroying -all before him. The fight raged for some time with great fury, but it -became apparent, uselessly to the Americans, if the enemy retained -possession of the battery, manifestly the key of the position. - -I was standing at the side of Colonel Miller, said the Major, when -General Brown rode up and inquired, whether he could storm the battery -with his regiment, while General Ripley supported him with the younger -regiment, the _Twenty-third_. Miller, amid the uproar and confusion, -deliberately surveyed the position, then quietly turning with infinite -coolness replied, “_I’ll try, sir._” I think I see him now, said the -Major, as drawing up his gigantic figure to its full height, he turned to -his regiment, drilled to the precision of a piece of mechanism, I hear -his deep lion tones—“_Twenty-first_—attention!—form into column. You -will advance up the hill to the storm of the battery—at the word ‘halt,’ -you will deliver your fire at the port-lights of the artillerymen, -and immediately carry the guns at the point of the bayonet.—Support -arms—double quick—march!” Machinery could not have moved with more -compactness than that gallant regiment followed the fearless stride -of its leader. Supported by the _Twenty-third_, the dark mass moved -up the hill like one body,—the lurid light glittering and flickering -on their bayonets, as the combined fire of the enemy’s artillery and -infantry opened murderously upon them. They flinched not—they faltered -not—the stern deep voices of the officers, as the deadly cannon-shot -cut yawning chasms through them, alone was heard. “Close up—steady, -men—steady.” Within a hundred yards of the summit, the loud “Halt” -was followed by a volley—sharp, instantaneous, as a clap of thunder. -Another moment, rushing under the white smoke, a short furious struggle -with the bayonet, and the artillerymen were swept like chaff from their -guns. Another fierce struggle—the enemy’s line was forced down the side -of the hill, and the victory was ours—the position entirely in our -hands—their own pieces turned and playing upon them in their retreat. -It was bought at cruel price—most of the officers being either killed -or wounded. The whole tide of the battle now turned to this point. -The result of the conflict depended entirely upon the ability of the -victorious party to retain it. Major Hindman was ordered up, and posted -his forces at the side of the captured cannon, while the American line -correspondingly advanced. Stung with mortification, the brave General -Drummond concentrated his forces, to retake by a desperate charge the -position. The interval amid the darkness was alone filled by the roar of -the cataracts, and the groans of the wounded. He advanced with strong -reinforcements, outflanking each side of the American line. We were -only able, in the murky darkness, to ascertain their approach by their -heavy tread. “They halted within twenty paces—poured in a rapid fire and -prepared for the rush.” Directed by the blaze, our men returned it with -deadly effect, and after a desperate struggle, the dense column recoiled. -Another interval of darkness and silence, and again a most furious and -desperate charge was made by the British, throwing the whole weight of -their attack upon the American centre. The gallant _Twenty-first_, which -composed it, receiving them with undaunted firmness—while the fire from -our lines was “dreadfully effective,” Hindman’s artillery served with -the most perfect coolness and effect. Staggering, they again recoiled. -During this second attack, General Scott in person, his shattered brigade -now consolidated into a single battalion, made two determined charges -upon the right and left flank of the enemy, and in these he received the -scars which his countrymen now see upon his manly front. Our men were -now almost worn down with fatigue, dying with thirst, for which they -could gain no relief. The British, with fresh reinforcements—their men -recruited and rested—after the interval of another hour, made their third -and final effort to regain the position. They advanced—delivered their -fire as before—and although it was returned with the same deadly effect, -they steadily pressed forward. The _Twenty-first_ again sustained the -shock, and both lines were soon engaged in a “conflict, obstinate and -dreadful beyond description.” The right and left of the American line -fell back for a moment, but were immediately rallied by their officers. -“So desperate did the battle now become, that many battalions on both -sides were forced back,” the men engaged in indiscriminate melée, fought -hand to hand, and with muskets clubbed; and “so terrific was the conflict -where the cannon were stationed, that Major Hindman had to engage them -over his guns and gun-carriages, and finally to spike two of his pieces, -under the apprehension that they would fall into the hands of the enemy.” -General Ripley at length made a most desperate and determined charge upon -both of the enemy’s flanks—they wavered—recoiled—gave way—and the centre -soon following, they relinquished the fight and made a final retreat. -The annals of warfare on this continent have never shown more desperate -fighting. Bayonets were repeatedly crossed, and after the action, many -of the men were found mutually transfixed. The British force engaged -was about five thousand men;—the American thirty-five hundred: the -combined loss in killed and wounded, seventeen hundred and twenty-two, -officers and men. The battle commenced at half-past four o’clock in the -afternoon, and did not terminate till midnight. We were so mingled, said -the Major, and so great the confusion in the darkness, that as I was -sitting with a group of officers in the earlier part of the night, on -horseback, a British soldier came up to us, and recovering his musket, -under the supposition that he was addressing one of his own officers, -said, “Colonel Gordon will be much obliged, sir, if you will march up -the three hundred men in the road to his assistance immediately, as he -is very hard pressed.” I called him nearer, and pressing his musket down -over my holsters, made him prisoner. “What have I done, sir,” said the -astonished man, “what have I done?” and to convince British officers, as -he supposed, of his loyalty, exclaimed, “Hurrah for the King, and damn -the Yankees.” As he was marched to the rear, the poor fellow was cut down -by a grape shot. In another part of the field, an American aid pulled -up suddenly on a body of men under full march. In reply to his demand, -“What regiment is that?” he was answered, “The Royal Scots.” With great -presence of mind, he replied, “Halt! Royal Scots’, till further orders,” -and then turning his horse’s head, galloped from their dangerous -proximity. It was a horrid conflict. Humanity sighs over the slaughter of -the brave men that fell in it. - -But here we are, at the grave-yard, with its drooping willows and -flowering locusts. Still—still—and quiet now. No armed men disturb -its calmness and repose—no ponderous artillery wheels rudely cut -its consecrated mounds—no ruffian jest—no savage execration—no moan -of anguish, break now upon its hallowed silence. The long grass and -blossoming heather waive green alike over the graves of friend and enemy. -The marble tells the story of the few—the many, their very parents know -not their resting place. See this broken wooden slab—it has rotted off -even with the ground, and lies face downwards, the earthworm burrowing -under it, in this neglected corner. Pull the grass aside; turn it over -with your foot. What, the nearly effaced inscription? - - “Sacred - TO THE MEMORY OF - CAPT’N —— BROWN, - OF THE - 21st Regiment - WHO DIED OF WOUNDS RECEIVED IN ACTION, - WITH THE ENEMY, ON THE - 25TH OF JULY, 1814.” - -And this is honour! This is fame! Why, brave man! e’en now, I read -the tribute to thy bravery in the bulletin of the action. Thou had’st -comrades—father, mother, sisters—to mourn thy loss—and _now_, the -stranger’s foot carelessly spurns thy frail memento; nor father, mother, -sisters, nor human hand can point to the spot where rest thy ashes. Peace -to thy manes! brave countrymen, where’er they sleep. - -See from this point how gently and gracefully undulates the battle-field; -the woods bowing to the evening breeze, as the soft sunlight pours -through their branches show not the gashes of rude cannon shot—the -plain, loaded and bending with the yellow harvest, betrays no human -gore—yon hill scathed, scorched and blackened with cannon flame, the very -resting place of the deadly battery, shows no relic of the fierce death -struggle, as covered with the fragrant clover and wild blue-bell, the bee -in monotonous hum banquets o’er it. Nought mars the serenity of nature -as she smiles upon us. Yet, burnt in common funeral pyre, the ashes of -those brave men, of friend and foe, there mingle in the bosom whence they -issued. The frenzied passion passed, the furious conflict o’er, they -have lain down in quiet, and like young children, sleep gently, sweetly, -in the lap of that common mother who shelters with like protection the -little field mouse from its gambols, and the turbaned Sultan sinking amid -his prostrate millions. Shades of my gallant countrymen! Shades of their -daring foes—farewell. Ne’er had warriors more glorious death-couch,—the -eternal Cataracts roar your requiem. - - The reader’s attention is requested to the more detailed - account of this action in the Appendix. The inscription on the - tablet is given from recollection, and it is possible that the - number of the Regiment may not be the one to which this officer - belonged. - - - - -LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA. - - -The Sun of Morning hurls himself in blazing splendour o’er thy crystal -waters, beautiful Horicon, as we float upon thy placid bosom, not -as of yore, in feathery canoe, but in gaily-coloured bark, drawn by -Steam Spirit, as he vainly strives to break his fiery prison. See, how -he puffs and pants in the fierce embrace of the glowing element; in -furious efforts dragging us onward with frantic swiftness, e’en as the -frightened steed, the vehicle wildly bounding after him. As the valve -of safety opens, hear the shriek of mad delight, with which exultingly -he proclaims his freedom;—now, the iron portal closed, how like Sampson -in the Prison Mill, struggling, giant-like, he again applies him to his -toil. Imprisoned Spirit! there is no help for thee. Sweat thou must, and -pant, and groan, till, like thy fellow-labourer, man, released from fire -fetter, as he of earth, resolved to pure ether, thou shalt float again -free and delighted in the clear elements above! - -Ho! brother spirit, tarry, tarry—wait thou a little ’till I join -thee,—then, how gallantly we’ll ride! Couched on summer clouds, lazily -we’ll float: or, glancing on sun rays, shoot swift as thought, ’mid the -bright worlds rolling in sublimity above us. We’ll bathe in the Moon’s -cold splendour, fan in the sultry heat of crimson Mars, slide upon -Saturn’s eternal snows, or joyously gambolling along the Milky Way, we’ll -chase the starry Serpent to his den. Ho! brother spirit;—but, we must -bide our time—madly now in wild career, thou sweep’st the placid lake -from under us. - -But whom have we here? A sturdy hunter in homespun clad, with his long -rifle—his broad-chested hounds in quiet, sleeping at his feet; our -fellow-passenger, ’till landed on some mountain side, he follows his -sylvan war. Clear animal health and vigour shine from each lineament—with -what open, unsuspicious manhood—what boundless freedom he comports -himself. Ha! what is it, hound? What is it? Why dost shake thy pendant -ears and gaze so keenly in the distance—and why that plaintive howl? Ay, -ay, hunter, thy practised eye hath caught it. On yon wooded island to the -windward—a noble buck with graceful form and branching antlers. He sees -us not, but the dog’s quick senses have caught his scent upon the passing -wind. Still, boy, still! Pilot, put her a little more under the island. -Hunter, lend me thy rifle—launch the canoe. Come, hunter—peace—peace—keep -the dogs on board; paddle for yonder point—now we shoot upon the pebbly -beach—now make her fast to this dead log. We’ll steal gently through -the woods and come upon him unawares. Softly—press those vines away; -whist—avoid the rustling of the branches; here, creep through these -bushes—tread lightly on the fallen leaves—you’ll mire upon that swampy -bottom. Hush—hush—tread softly—that crackling branch! He lifts his -head—he looks uneasily about him—stand quiet. Now he browses again; get -a little nearer—we are within distance. I’ll try him—click. Back go the -antlers—the cocking of the rifle has alarmed him—he’s off! Here goes, hit -or miss—crack—he jumps ten feet in the air. I’ve missed him—he bounds -onward—no—yes—by Jove! he’s down—he’s up again—he plunges forward—he -falls again—he rises—falls—he struggles to his knees—he——falls. Hurrah! -he’s ours—quick—quick—thy _couteau de chasse_, we’ll make sure of him. -Stop—stop. Poor deer! and _I_ have murdered thee, for my _sport_ have -murdered thee—have taken from thee the precious boon of life—with cruelty -have broken the silver chord, which the beggar’s blunt knife can sever, -but not the jewelled fingers of the monarch again rejoin. There—there, -thou liest, true to the Great Master’s picture— - - “The big round tears course down thy innocent nose in piteous chase, - And thy smooth leathern sides pant almost to bursting.” - -Thy life blood flows apace—e’en now thy large soft eye dims in the sleep -of death—and _I_ have slain thee. Thou had’st nought other enemy than the -gaunt coward wolf, or fanged serpent; him, with light leaping bounds, -thou laugh’st to scorn, as his long howl struck on thy quick ear; and the -sullen rattler, with many blows of thy tiny polished hoof thou dash’st -to pieces, ere from his deadly coil, his flattened head, with glistening -tongue and protruded fangs, could reach thee. Oh! I shame me of my -miscreant fellowship. E’en the poisonous serpent, with quick vibrating -tail, did give thee warning—_I_ stole upon thee unawares. Hunter! take -again thy weapon; for thee—’tis thy vocation—perhaps ’tis well—the game -is thine. I entreat of thee, let not my innocent victim again reproach -my eyesight. So! here is the canoe—we again embark—we rock against the -steamer’s side—and now again rush onward in our swift career. Islands -glide by us in countless numbers. The frightened trout scales in quick -alarm from the splashing waterwheels, while echo, mocking their watery -clamour, wakes the old mountains from their sleepy stillness, who again, -like drowsy giants, relapse into repose as we leave them far behind us. - -_Ticonderoga_, we approach thy shore. Ay—true to appointment—here are -the horses. Mount—on we go, over hillock and valley, through brake, -through brier, through mud, through water, through swamp, through mire; -we gallop over the broad green peninsula—leap the entrenchments—thread -the lines. Here is the citadel—descend the moat; the wild dank weeds -and furze o’ertop our heads. Ay—here’s a chasm—a breach in the ancient -walls; spur up—spur up; now we draw rein within the very centre of -the blackened ruins. How lovely the view, from the soft undulating -promontory—the lake bathing its sides; Horicon’s mountains o’erlooking -it on this—the stalwart yeomen of the verdant State, free as the winds, -on that! Oh! Ticonderoga, midst these uncultivated wilds—these silent -mountains—various and eventful hath been thy history. - -Ho! Old Time—how calmly strok’st thou thy long greybeard, as seated on -the broken ruins, thou ponderest their past! Come! come, old father! -ascend this crumbling battlement—lean on my shoulder—I, _as yet_, am -straightest—I will hold thy scythe. Now point to me the drama which past -generations have acted upon this green peninsula. - -What do I see? I see the savage life—the light canoe floating on the blue -lake—painted warriors spearing the salmon, chasing the deer upon the -plain, dragging the surly bear in triumph,—I see the swift paddle chase—I -hear the laugh of children—the voice of patient squaws—the distant -yell as rounding the point, the returning braves bemoan the dead left -on the war-path, and as the shades of evening close, the sun in golden -radiance retiring o’er the mountains, I see them congregate in wigwams -in the cove.—The blue smoke rises gently o’er the tree tops, and all is -still—quiet and serenity obtain—the whip-poor-will, and cricket, amid the -drowsy hum of insect life, keep melancholy cadence. - -“Stranger! venture not near them—the peace is treacherous. No civilized -challenge shall give thee warning, but the cruel war-shriek wildly ring -o’er the insensate brain as the light tomahawk trembles in thy cloven -skull.” - -Wild mist rolls onward—I hear sounds of distant music—the mellow horn—the -clashing cymbals break from its midst. Ah! it rises. A gallant army, in -proud array, with flags and banners—bright glittering arms, and ponderous -artillery. With alacrity they effect their landing. They fraternise with -the red-skinned warriors. Their military lines run round like magic. I -feel, e’en where we stand, huge walls, grim towers rise, and bastions -springing up around us—the spotless drapeau blanc, high o’er our heads, -floats in the breeze—wild chansons of love, of war, of la belle France, -mix with mirth and revelry. - -“Stranger, ’tis the quick ‘_Qui Vive_’ that doth arrest thy footstep.” - -Ay—now, Old Time, the mystic curtain again rolls upwards. What do I -see?—Red-coated soldiers advancing in proud battalia through the forest -glades, the sunbeams dancing on their bayonets. I hear the sound of -bugles—the clamorous roll of drums, the groaning jar and creak of -heavy-wheeled artillery. Spread along the lines, covered with sharp -abattis and water moat, I see the impatient Gaul, with savage ally in -ambushment, await their coming—they advance with desperate valour,—they -ford the ditch, they hew the sharpened trees with axes. In vain—the -balls like hail, from unseen foes murderously destroy them—their leader -falls—hark! the bugle with melancholy wail sounds their retreat. - -Again, Old Time, an interval—again red-coated soldiers! again groaning -artillery! Look up!—the drapeau blanc has vanished—the meteor flag -streams proudly from the flag-staff. - -“Stranger, ’tis the Anglo-Saxon’s rough challenge that gruffly breaks -upon thy ear.” - -Long peace and silence—Old Father, now obtain—the sentry sleeps upon his -post—women and children play upon the ramparts—but, hark! what is it -far in the distance that I hear! the sound of battle! the fusilade of -musketry—the roar of cannon! I see Bunker’s Hill from light barricade -sweep down her thousands—I see hurrying forward the hardy husbandman with -hastily caught musket—the robed divine—the youth—the old man—cheered on -by mothers—sisters—tender wives,—to strike - - “For their altars and their fires, - God, and their native homes.” - -I see new Nation’s symbol—Stars and Stripes—and watch, now in the -midnight darkness through the fortress moat—how advance that fearless -band of men—Lo! in silence they penetrate the fortress’ centre. Hark! -what voice rouses the astonished officer, as starting from his slumbers, -he meets, close at his throat, the bayonet’s threatening point. -“Surrender!” “To whom?” “The Great Jehovah, and the Continental Congress!” - -Now floats the spangled banner proudly o’er the citadel—patriotic men -assemble—armies make temporary resting place—invalid soldiers breathe the -health-restoring air, and age wears on. Ha!—was that a meteor flashing -from Defiance Mountain summit? And there, another?—Plunge! plunge! Cannon -shot! screaming, yelling, bounding i’ th’ very centre of the fortress. - -“’Tis the Englishman with his artillery.” - -Quick, quick!—St. Clair, withdraw the army—the position is no longer -tenable. Strike not that flag!—palsied be the hand that so degrades -the flag of Freedom—let it shake defiance to the last! Quick, the -magazine—the train—Ha, hah! Ætna, Vesuvius like, the explosion. - -Hallo! Old Time!—Ho! thou of the scythe!—What! hast gone? Am I!—ay, I am -alone! Nought but the blackened ruins, and the crumbling ramparts, in -silence surrounding me. - - - - -MONTREAL. - - -Now, in steam palace, we shoot in swift career o’er thy tranquil surface, -Lake Champlain—thy rolling mountains, in wavy outline, accompanying us in -our rapid progress. Vast primeval forests sleep in stillness along thy -borders—their sylvan patriarchs, reigning for centuries, untouched by -woodman’s axe, stretch proudly their far-reaching branches, ’till ancient -Time, pointing with extended finger the wild spirit of the winds breathes -on them as he passes, and they succumb with sullen uproar, long with mock -semblance retaining form and length, as if deriding the puny offspring -shooting up around them; bestowing sore fall, I ween, and tumble on -adventurous hunter, as stumbling through the undergrowth he plunges -prostrate o’er them. - -Forests immense cover the mountains, the gorges, valleys, reigning in -stern solitude and silence, save where the fierce fire-god, serpent-like, -pursues his flaming journey. There, followed by wreathing smoke columns, -forward he leaps, with fiery tongue licking up acres—while the waterpools -hissing in mist, join in his escort, and the wild game, with frantic -swiftness, strive to escape the hot destruction of his embraces. With -steady, noiseless progress, the white villages appear and disappear -beside us. Rouse’s skeleton Tower looms largely in the distance;—now ’tis -passed. - -Thy military works, and crimson flag, Isle Aux Noix,—town of St. Johns, -Richelieu, La Prairie,—we pass ye all; and advancing in soft summer -atmosphere, Chambly, we behold thy mountain ramparts filling the -far distance. St. Lawrence, majestic river, stretched like sheet of -polished steel, as far as eye can reach, we stand upon thy level shores. -Rapid—wide, rushing expanse of waters, with what glorious brightness -thou look’st upon thy verdant shores, covered with continuous lines of -snow-white cottages, and listenest to the soft music of the religious -bells of the kind-hearted, cheerful habitans—as, with rude painted -cross upon their door posts, they scare away the fiend, and joyously -intercommune, in honest simple neighbourhood. La Chine—we speed o’er thy -surface, with race-horse swiftness, and now _Montreal_,—beautiful—most -beautiful,—couched at the foot of emerald mountain, liest thou upon the -river’s margin, thy spires, roofs, cupolas, glittering in the sunbeams -with silver radiance, and thy grand cathedral chimes floating onwards -till lost in dreamy distance. We land upon thy granite quay—measure -the extended esplanade—now climb thy narrow streets and alleys. Almost -we think we tread one of thy antique cities, ancient France,—alleys -narrow, dark and gloomy courts, grim inhospitable walls,—in place -of airy casement, gratings and chained iron portals,—military -barracks,—nunneries,—prisons,—fantastic churches, and Notre Dame’s -cloud-piercing towers, in huge architectural pile, looming high above -all. Noisy, chattering habitans, in variegated waist-belts, and -clattering sabots, rotund dark-robed priests, lank voyageurs—red-coated -soldiers, and haughty officers,—jostle each other on the narrow -trottoir—but, mark! the sullen, down-cast Indian, in blanket robed, with -gaudy feathers and shining ornaments, his patient squaw, straight as an -arrow, her piercing-eyed papoose clinging to her shoulders, silently -following him, in noiseless moccasins, moves along the _kennel_. Verily, -poor forest child, it hath been written, and Moslem-like, thou to thy -destiny must bow—the fire-water and the Christian will it—fold thee -closer in thy blanket robe, and—die. See yon Indian girl, standing at -the corner—with what classic grace the blue fold drapery thrown o’er her -head, descends her shoulders, as, fawn-like, she stands, avoiding the -rude passer’s stare. - -Hardy ponies, in light calash, dash through the narrow streets, of -passengers’ safety regardless; or, tugging at great trucks, strive, -in renewed exertion, to vociferous cries and exclamations of the -volatile Canadian. How well these Englishmen sit their horses. See that -gentleman—with what delicate hand he reins the fiery blood that treads -as if on feathers beneath him—and how picturesque appear, amid the motley -throng, these red-coated soldiers. - -Picturesque! I like them not—they indicate a subjugated people. -Come! here stands one at the Champ de Mars—how martially he deports -himself—his exactly poised musket, and his brazen ornaments—how bright! -Inscribed upon his gorget are the actions which have signalized -his regiment,—“Badajos”—“Salamanca”—“Vittoria”—“Waterloo.” We will -address him. Soldier, your regiment was at Salamanca,—“_S-i-r_.” By -the inscription on your gorget, your regiment distinguished itself at -Salamanca—“scaled the imminent deadly breach” at “Badajos”—stood the -Cuirassiers wild charge amid the sulphurous smoke at Waterloo?—“Don’t -know, indeed, s-i-r.” And is this the gallant soldier! Why, for years, -under the menace of thy sergeant, thou hast scoured that gorget to -regulation brightness—for years hast marched under thy regimental colours -emblazoned with those characters, and still in ignorance, need’st a -Champoillion to decipher them. ’Tis well. Thou art the machine, indeed, -that they require.—Verily, thy daily wage of sixpence, and thy ration, -are full compensation for thy service. - -Listen! The masses hurrying forward in the western hemisphere—whether -to happiness and equality,—or furious license and bloody anarchy—with -joyous shouts, and cries of freedom, arouse the echo. Dost hear above -hoarse cries of “bread,” and mob hurrah’s—confused sounds—low muttering -thunder—the rend and clank of chains that o’er the broad Atlantic roll -from old Europe? ’Tis the chariot wheels of Liberty, as charging onwards -she sweeps away rust-covered chains, and feudal bands, like maze of -cobwebs, from her path. Hear! The Nations cry for Constitutions—the -monarchs hurrying with ghastly smiles _grant_ their request—the people -would _take_ them else. Therefore prepare thee, for wilt thou or thy -rulers—the time surely approaches. Expand thy mind—cultivate thy -intelligence—study thy God—so that when the hour arrives, in the first -wild bounds of freedom, as the desert steed thou dash not thyself to -pieces; nor, like the frantic Gaul, bursting from imprisonment of ages, -gore thyself with thine own broken fetters, rushing on to deeds of blood -and frenzy that cause humanity to shudder. Ponder it, soldier! fare thee -well. - - - - -THE NUN. - - -Now as we pass, look up! How minute appears the colossal statue of -Our Lady in its niche on the vast front of the cathedral. And the -nunneries—self-constituted prisons for those whom God hath born to -freedom—how like birds of evil omen they do congregate. Here is that -of the Grey Order. Ring at the gateway—we will enter. Here we pass the -court-yard; how still, how gloomy, and how prison-like! This is their -hospital. Piteous collection! The blind, the halt, the maimed, the -hideously deformed—consumption—palsy—the wrecks of fevers! See! with what -continued torture that wretched being writhes in her fixed position. Oh! -this is the small spark of good amid the black brands of evil. These -orphan children are kindly cared for, but where the child-like joy and -mirthful freedom! With what stealthy step the officials move about their -duties along the silent corridors! and,—aye! here is the chapel, with -its gilded altars, its ornaments, its embroideries, its bleeding hearts, -its sacred symbols. See with what gentleness the “_Lady_” performs the -servile duties of the sanctuary! with what humility she bends before -the altar. Oh! how beautiful that cheek of tint of Indian shell; those -dark romantic eyes, with their long pensile lashes; that nose of Grecian -outline; the small vermilion mouth; the throat and neck of snow, and the -glossy raven tresses escaping in rich luxuriance from the plaited coif -as they fall upon her sloping shoulders. Mournful seems her devotion—now -rising she stands before the Mater Dolorosa; now wistfully gazes down -the dark long corridor, in sorrowful meditation. Hush! be silent. I will -steal gently near her. Lady! Turn not—’tis thy kind spirit whispers—art -thou content? Does thy young active soul find employ congenial in these -gloomy mysteries? Does thy springing, youthful heart, sympathize in these -cold formalities—this company of grim-visaged saints and bearded martyrs -with joy enchain thee? Does the passionate imagination and deep feeling -flashing in those dark eyes—the already hectic kindling of that cheek, -look with pleasure to long years—a life of cold monotonous routine—of -nightly vigils—fastings—of painful mortifications? Lady! listen. They -chain thy soul. Break thou away. Quick in thy youth, fly from them, -fly. One moment. Speak not. See’st thou yon cottage peering from its -green shades and gravelled walks—its parterres of the myrtle and the -lily, its diamond lattice enwreathed and almost hidden in the embrace of -sweet-smelling honeysuckles and clustering roses—and its interior with -its simple yet delicate refinements? See’st thou in snowy dishabille -the lovely woman? with what heart-felt glee the frolicking, half-naked -child, with chubby arms, almost suffocates in its little embrace her -neck, its golden ringlets mingling like streams of light ’mid her dark -tresses,—with what ecstasy she enfolds him in her embraces, with maternal -lips pressing in exquisite delight the plump alabaster shoulders? Lady, -such scenes, not gloomy walls, invite thee—nay ’tis not the voice of -the Tempter—’tis not, as they will tell thee, the poisonous breath of -the many-coloured serpent stealing o’er thy senses. Let bearded men, -wrecked on their own fierce lawless passions, seek these dark cells, -these painful vigils, these unmeaning mortifications. They are not for -thee. The world awaits thy coming. The pawing steed, throwing the white -froth flakes o’er his broad chest, impatiently awaits thee. Fly, dear -lady, fly—the joyous, carrolling birds, the dew-spangled meadows, cry, -Come. The green, green trees—the bubbling water-falls—the soft summer -breezes—the rosy tinted East—the gorgeous drapery of the West—cry to -thee, Come. The voice of thy lover, frantic at thy self-sacrifice—the -voice of him who in the fragrant orange bower encircled thy slender -waist, whilst, with heightened colour and down-cast eyes, thou listen’d -to his rapid vows—the voice of him, who with thy glossy raven tresses -floating on his shoulder, and thy warm, sweet breath, mingling with his, -lavished soul, existence, all, on thee,—in agony cries, Dearest, dearest, -come. Nay, nay, ’tis but for _thy_ happiness,—I leave thee—exclaim not—I -am gone. - - - - -CATARACTS OF NIAGARA. - - -Now—on, on—over the Chute, and down the Rapid—leaping the Saults—through -the rivers, over the islands—we glide—we glide—we rush—we fly. Ho! Ariel, -beautiful spirit, riding on thy rainbow—shoot not thy silver arrows at -us as we pass. Tricksy spirit—fare thee well—now far in the distance, -fare—thee—well! Ha! ha!—Old frolic Puck—sweating, panting, holding thy -lubbard sides—we race—we race—we pass thee too—in vain thou strugglest -to o’ertake us. Farewell—farewell. Go pinch the housemaids—tickle with -straws the snoring herdsmen—tumble about the dusty mows—sprinkle sweet -hay before the ruminating cattle—clutch by the tail the cunning fox, -as stealthily he crawls within the hen-roost—and anon rub thy hands in -glee o’er the embers on the capacious kitchen hearth, and on all-fours -cut antics with the glowering cat, as with bowed back and shining eyes -she watches thee i’ th’ corner—peer into the kettles and into the -jars—see whether the barm rises—whether the yeast doth work; till with -clash—clatter—the metal lid slips from thy fingers on the hearth-stone, -and villain-like, thou shoot’st up the chimney, with “Ho! ho! ho!” -laughing at the sleepy yeoman, as half covered, with oaken cudgel -grasped, shivering, he peers through the door-crack the cause o’ th’ -uproar. Farewell, farewell, mirthful goblin—farewell, farewell. Ontario, -we waft across thy surface. Queenstown, thy sanguinary heights, crowned -with brave Briton’s monument, we pass, and now the rising mist-wreaths -warn us of thy approach, Niagara. Huzza! huzza! now for a bath under the -roaring Cataract. In what wild chaos of waters the clam’rous rapids, as -if from the horizon, rush down upon us—jumping, leaping, boiling, in -fierce confusion; and this frail bridge, how it groans and shakes in -the torrent’s sweep! A slip from Mahomet’s sword edge o’er the awful -Hades, would not consign us to more inevitable destruction, than would -a treacherous plank or rotten beam from this shaking platform. We tread -the deep green woods of Goat Island, their mossy trunks covered with -love-marks of Orlandos and Rosalinds; and, amid the roar, descend the -great Ferry stair-case—stop a moment at this landing—step out. How the -solid earth shakes—jars and vibrates! How the wild winds rush by us, as -the huge fluid arch stretches over with continuous plunge—and see that -group of wild-flowers—scarlet, green, and purple—smiling in beauty beyond -the reach of human hand, glistening in moisture midst the very spray in -the rock cleft. But—haste—haste! Here is the boatman. Leap in—leap in! -Now how, in our little cockle-shell bark, we whirl and sport in the -eddies, o’er the fathomless depths below, like wing-borne insects playing -over the abyss. - -We land—ascend the heights—we pass the sentry. At the tiring-house. -We robe ourselves for the enterprise—tarpaulin coats—hats bound with -old rope—trowsers of tow cloth—shoes of cowhide—ha! ha! But quick, -descend the long spiral stair-case. Now, Guide—we follow. Beware you -fall not on these sharp, slippery rocks. We approach. The Table Rock -hangs over us. In grandeur the solid fluid mass falls precipitate. -Prepare. Turn as you enter—hold down your head—repress your breath: -are you ready? Rush! We are beneath the yawning chasm—soaked in an -instant. Like furious rainstorm, and wind, and tempest all combined, -this wild, frightful roar. What? Scream louder, louder. Hold firm by -the guide—a slip from this narrow ledge—and—whew—splash—dead in our -faces—almost suffocated. Turn to the dripping rock wall, and catch your -breath till the wind rush again lifts the watery curtain. Slimy eels -glide by—darkness deep above—dim light strives to reach us through the -cataract sheets. We are at the extreme verge. Guide—guide—ha?—what -indicates that motion of thy lips—closer—close in my ear. “Termination -rock.” Turn—turn—splash—swash—drenched—suffocated—return, return. We see -again the light. Rush! We stand once more in the clear open sunlight. -Whew!—puff—dripping—dripping—a shower-bath worthy of old Neptune. How -delightfully our nerves spring under its exhilarating influence. Take -care—again these slippery stones. Beware! beware! Here we ascend again -the stair-case. In the attiring-room. Towels—brushes—Christians once more. - -Come—come! Now to the Table Rock. See with what treacherous glitter -the wide Niagara stretches in perfect smoothness far towards Chippewa, -till, descending upon us, it shoots the rapids o’er their rocky beds -like things of life, and with wild rush around the island, sweeps -resistless o’er the awful cataracts, a roaring hurricane of waters. Give -me your hand—lean forward—look into the abyss—careful. Evil spirits -take us at advantage at such times, and whisper us to leap forward. How -lashed in milky whiteness the huge gulf boils and foams as the waters -plunge fractured, disjointed, tumbling in masses—and the wild birds, -how fearlessly they skim amid the white mist rising from its surface. -How the earth shudders and trembles around us. You are already dizzy. -Come back from the edge. How awful—how terribly sublime! How tame—how -useless, helpless description! Would that I, with voice of inspiration, -could command language adequate to pourtray the grandeur of the scene -under stern Winter’s reign! Transcendantly beautiful once I saw it! A -thaw and rain, followed by sudden chill and cold, had clothed all the -forest—every hedge and shrub, with transparent coat of ice. Gnarled -oaks, from massive trunk to their extremest twigs, became huge crystal -chandeliers. The ever-green pines and hemlocks, with long lancing -branches,—great emeralds; lithe willows, sweeping, glassy cascades; the -wild vines, stiff in silvery trellices between them; the undergrowth, -with scarlet, blue and purple berries, candied fruits. The pools of -frozen water at their feet, dark sheets of adamant; and ever and anon, -as the north wind passed o’er them, the forest was Golconda, Araby—one -Ind of radiant gems, quivering with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, in -glittering splendour; pearls, emeralds, hyacinths, chrysolites, falling -in showers, as fractured from their crackling branches, they strewed the -snowy bed stretched smooth around them. That wide, smooth river, far -above the Rapids, ice-chained, a solid snow-white bed, gleaming in the -midday sun. Yon tower, misshapen giant phantom, ice god, in frozen shroud -and winding-sheet, firmly fixed ’mid the swift running waters:—huge -stalactite icicles, Winter’s hoary beard, hanging in fantastic curtains -from each rock ledge—pinnacle—projection; while on the black rapids, the -vast ice-fields breaking in masses, piled in wild confusion, grinding -and swaying on their treacherous holds, till gathering momentum, with -slide and plunge—submerged, they swept onward ’mid the wild roar of the -cataracts, which, with stern, resistless power, held their terrific -course. Those huge sheets, those watery arches, those green beryl masses, -plunging in resistless fury, unabated vastness, with desperate leaps into -the foaming abyss below, the spray falling in silver showers, pierced -by the sun’s rays dancing around them in countless rainbows; while the -ice avalanches, breaking from their grasps on the surrounding rocks and -precipices, with booming plunge and uproar, fell crashing,—buried in -the dark whirlpools, boiling in the fathomless depths below. The dark -river, in torrents of copperas-hue, whirling in eddies, rushing o’er -its deep rocky bed—in savage contrast with the snow-covered precipices -that chained it to its course. Deep, resistless sweep of waters! black -as despair—Sadoc here were to thee the waters of Oblivion—here that -Lethe, which, till other worlds received thee, should blot existence from -keenest memory. - -The voice of the Unseen addressed the afflicted Patriarch from the -whirlwind’s midst—us does it warn from this chained whirlwind of the -waters. Sublime, terrible, indescribable, as is this scene by human -tongue, how tamely all its grandeur sinks beneath the catastrophe, which -the being of future ages shall survey,—or would, if with eagle’s wings -he could soar high in the clouds above it,—when the narrow rock-belt -which Niagara for by-gone centuries has been slowly wearing, severed, the -light tract alluvial crumbling—the whole chain of inland oceans—Huron, -Erie, Michigan, with awful wildness and destruction, sweep in second -deluge o’er this outlet—the adamantine rocks sinking like snow-wreaths -from their beds—all principalities, kingdoms, states—whate’er they -shall be—between the Atlantic and the Alleghanies, the Labrador and -Mexico—swept from existence, and in their place a heaving surge—wild -waste of waters. Fool! revolve this scene terrific in thy heart—ponder it -well—then, if thou canst, say, indeed, there is no God! Thy life, at best -a flickering taper, shall soon meet extinguishment. Then shall there be -an eternity to convince thee. - - - - -MOUNT HOLYOKE. - - -Here we are in the middle of the month of August. The “world” have long -since fled the hot walls and blazing pavements of old Gotham, and even -the very school-boys are let loose from their pale-faced pedagogues, to -frolic like young colts in the country. Come, let us not alone remain in -the sweltering city. Throw a few things in your carpet-bag—ay, that is -sufficient. Make me the guide. We will leave Saratoga and Rockaway to -their flirtations—another field is before us. Now, Eastward ho! shall lie -our course. Distance and time are left behind us—already we are ensconced -at the Mansion House in this most lovely of villages, “Northampton the -beautiful.” - -Well does it deserve the name. Come one moment to the corner of this -piazza. Look down the long avenues. See the symmetrical verdant arches, -formed by the boughs of the antique elms, bending toward each other in -loving fraternity; and see the snow-white houses at their feet, their -court-yards smiling with flowers; and see the still more smiling faces -that glance behind their transparent windows. That will do—you have -stared long enough at the demure beauty behind the green blinds. Look -this way, and witness the refined taste exhibited in the graceful -cottages, as they stand in relief against the dark back-ground of the -forest,—the Grecian column, the Gothic arch, the Italian verandah, -cottage and temple, all spread around you like the city of your dreams. -Truly it seems, as it mostly is, the abode of retired gentlemen—a very -Decameron sort of a place in this working-day world of ours. But, allons! -Are we not Americans? _Why_ should we rest? To breakfast—behold a regular -Yankee feast. Snow-white bread, and golden butter,—chickens that one -short hour since dreamed of bins of corn and acres of oats on their -roosts in the lofty barn,—steaks, pies, tea, preserves, the well-browned -cakes, and last, not least, the sparkling amber cider. Blessings on the -heart of the nice looking damsel at the coffee urn, with her red cheeks -and neat check apron. But, egad! my dear friend—prudence! hold up—we have -to ascend the mountain, and you will not find the feast that you are -stowing away with such Dalgetty industry, likely to improve your wind. -That last hot roll lengthens our ascent just one quarter of an hour. -There! the horses are neighing, and impatiently champing the bit at the -door. Are you ready? Come then. Look out, lest that fiery devil throw -you on the bosom of our common mother, earth!—your bones would find her -a step-dame—those flaming nostrils are sworn enemies to your long spur -gaffs. But here we go! How balmy and delightful the cool air of the -morning!—the verdant grass rises gracefully—the wild flower shakes its -tiny bells, and drinks the dewy diamond glittering on its lips, as it -waves gently o’er them. The rich yellow sun mocks the trees, as it rolls -out their broad shadows on the velvet turf beneath—while from knoll and -waving mullen stalk, the meadow-lark, with outstretched neck and piercing -eye, utters his sweet notes in almost delirious rapture. We clear the -broad meadows. Our very horses, with ears erect, gather speed with every -bound, and seem ready to cry ha! ha! We are the fabled centaurs of old. - -See! see!—the heavy morning mist, rising in huge volumes, reluctantly -bares the forest on the mountain side,—it curls and breaks in vast -masses,—it slowly rolls off to the eastward. Aye! there he stands—there -stands old _Holyoke_, with his cragged coronal of rocks, a gigantic -Titan, bidding defiance to time and tempest. Gallop—gallop! we are within -two hundred feet of the summit. This precipice, its dark sides frowning -and grim, the velvet moss, and little clustres of scarlet and yellow -flowers peeping from its crevices, where the ripling brooklet scatters -its mimic showers over them, wreathed fantastically with vines and -gnarled branches from its clefts,—we must climb on foot. Rest a moment. -How perfectly still the dense forest extends around us. Nought breaks the -silence, save the querulous cry of the cat-bird, as it hops from branch -to branch,—the mimic bark of the squirrel, or the distant hollow tap of -the woodpecker. Now, a little more climbing—take care of those loose -stones—a few steps additional ascent—give me your hand—spring!—here we -are on the rocky platform of its summit. Is not the scene magnificent? -We stand in the centre of an amphitheatre two hundred miles in diameter. -See! at the base of the mountain curls, like a huge serpent, the -Connecticut, its sinuosities cutting the smooth plains with all sorts -of grotesque figures,—now making a circuit around a peninsula of miles, -across whose neck a child might throw a stone,—here stretching straight -as an arrow for a like distance,—and there again returning like a hare -upon its course. See the verdant valleys extending around us, rich with -the labour of good old New England’s sons, and far in the distance—the -blue smoky distance—rising in majesty, God’s land-marks, the mountains. -See the beautiful plains, the prairies beneath us, one great carpet of -cultivation,—the fields of grain, the yellow wheat, the verdant maize, -the flocks, the herds, the meadow, the woodland, forming beautiful -and defined figures in its texture, while the villages in glistening -whiteness, are scattered, like patches of snow, in every part of the -landscape; and hark! in that indistinct and mellow music we hear the -bell slowly tolling from yonder slender spire. Oh! for a Ruysdael, or a -Rubens, to do justice to the picture. - -Surely God did not intend that we should sweat and pant in cities when -he places such scenes before us. How like the fierce giants of old -the lofty mountains encircle it, as a land of enchantment. See! see! -the clouds, as they scud along in the heavens, how they throw their -broad shadows, chasing each other on the plains below. Imagine them -squadrons, charging in desperate and bloody battle. But no—widows and -orphans’ tears follow not _their_ encounters—rather the smiles of the -honest, hard-handed yeoman, as he foresees his wains groaning with the -anticipated harvests—his swelling stacks—his crowded granaries. Here, for -the present, let us recline on the broad and moss-covered rocks, while -with the untutored Indian, its rightful owner, in silent admiration, we -worship the Great Spirit, whose finger moves not, save in beauty, in -harmony and majesty. - - - - -WHITE MOUNTAINS. - - -“Knock! knock! knock!” W-e-l-l. “Thump! thump! thump!” Who’s there? -What do you want? “Passengers for the White Mountains, Sir, time to get -up,—stage ready.” Is it possible? three o’clock already? W-e-l-l, I’ll -get up. Call the gentleman in the next room. Well, my friend, how are -you, after your trip of yesterday to Mount Holyoke?—a little stiff in -the knees and ancles, eh!—but come, the stage is at the door. Waiter, -hold the light. How forlorn look the heavy muddy vehicle, and half-waked -horses by the dim light of the stage lamps. That’s right, my good fellow; -throw those carpet-bags in the inside. Shut the door. All ready. Driver, -go ahead! “Aye, aye, sir.” Hey!—Tchk! tchk!—Crack! crack! crack! off we -go. The steady clatter of the horses’ hoofs, the jingling of the harness, -the occasional roll, as we pass over the boards of some bridge, and -the intejectional whistle of the driver as he encourages them, are the -only things that break the silence for the next hour. The morning light -begins to dawn. Whom have we here? Only two fellow travellers. An honest, -clean-looking countryman, snugly fixed in one corner, with his night-cap -pulled over his eyes, and his mouth wide open, as if admiring the melody -that his nose in bugle strain is enacting just above it; and opposite to -him a gross fat man, of rubicund visage, his eyes ensconced in goggles. -See! he nods—and nods—and nods, and now his head bobs forward into his -neighbour’s lap. How foolishly he looks, as he awakes to consciousness. -It is broad day-light. Let us get up with the driver on the outside, and -enjoy our cigars and the scenery together. - -Here we go, through the Connecticut River Valley, famous for its scenery -and its legends—the region of bright eyes and strong arms—the land of -quiltings and huskings—of house-raisings and militia trainings, and the -home of savory roast pigs and stuffed turkeys, of fat geese, of apple -sauce, and pumpkin pies; the Ultima Thule to the Yankee’s imagination. -Now we are at Deerfield. While they are about our breakfast, we will run -across the road, and see the old Williams Mansion. A hundred years since, -it was surrounded by Indians, and its occupant, the clergyman, with his -family, carried off captives to Canada. Here is the very hole cut in -the front door by their tomahawks, and here the hacks of the hatchets. -Through this hole they ran their rifles, and fired into the house, -killing a man confined to his bed by sickness, and here is the ball -lodging to this day in the side of the wall—and this occurred one hundred -years ago! Say you, that the people that treasure up these legends, and -retain these memorials untouched, have no poetry in their souls? But -there goes the stageman’s horn! Our breakfast finished, we resume our -places at the side of the good-natured driver, and on we roll. We pass -Brattleboro’, snugly ensconced in its mountain eyrie, and Hanover, with -its broad parade, its flourishing colleges, and its inhabitants that -never die,—save from old age. - -With teams of six and eight horses, we speed over hill, over dale, over -mountain, over valley, ascending and descending the mountains in full -run; our gallant horses almost with human instinct, guiding themselves. -Snorting leaders, swerve not aside in your career—linch-pins, do your -duty—traces and breeching, hold on toughly, or “happy men be our dole.” -Hah! Wild Amonoosac, we greet thy indeed wild roar.—How it sweeps -the fallen timber in its boiling eddies! The huge logs slide dancing -onwards with the velocity of the canoes of the Indian; or caught by -envious projection, or uplifting rock, form dams and cascades, till the -increasing and cumbrous masses, gathering momentum, plunge forward, -sweeping all before them,—and—but whist! Step into the shade of this -tree—look into the dark pool beneath those gnarled roots—how beautifully -the gold and purple colours glitter—how motionlessly still is the -head—how slight and tremulous the movement of that fin—the wavy motion -of the tail. A two pounder, as I am a Christian! Whist! whist! See that -dragon-fly, gently sailing o’er the surface—he rests a moment on it. -Watch! the head slowly turns—the fins move decidedly—ay—now—one rapid -whirl of the tail—an electric leap to the surface—Poor fly, thy history -is written; and well for thee, thou greedy trout, that no barbed hook -suspends thee in mid air—struggling in beauty, though in death, the prize -of exulting angler. And thou, too, art there, savage _Mount Franconia_, -with thy fantastic and human outline! Old Man of the Mountain!—with what -grim stoicism thou lookest down upon the busy miners, as with picks and -powder-blast they rive the sullen mineral from thy vitals. Ay! watch -thou by the lurid glare the sweating, half-naked forgemen, as they feed -with thy forests the roaring furnaces. Watch the molten ore, slowly -running in glittering streams, with fiery showers of scintillations into -the dark earth-troughs below; while with ceaseless din, the ponderous -trip-hammers, and clanking machinery, break the till now Sabbath -stillness of thy dwelling place. But fare thee well, thou imperturbable -old man; fare thee well, for now, we enter the dense continuous forest, -through which the busy hand of man has with unwearied industry cut the -avenue. How deliciously the aroma of the gigantic pines, mingles with -the pure elastic air of the mountains. See the thick undergrowth; the -dogwood with its snowy blossoms—the scarlet sumac—the waving green -briar, profuse with delicate roses,—the crimson raspberry, loaded with -its fruit—the yellow sensitive plant—the dancing blue-bell; and, rising -through the entangled mass of verdure and beauty, see the luxuriant wild -grape, and clinging ivy, joyously climbing the patriarchs of the forest, -encircling their trunks, and hanging their branches in graceful festoons -and umbrageous bowers.—No human foot, save with the aid of pioneer, can -penetrate its matted wildness—nought save those huge patriarchs rising -above it as they grow old and die, and fall with crashing uproar, as into -flowery sepulchre, intrude upon its solitude. Then, indeed, in heavy -booming plunge and rush, they seem to wildly sing, like their painted -children, their death song. But hark!—whence that wild and dissonant -shriek, that rings upon the ear? Ah—yonder, erect and motionless, he sits -upon the towering oak with haughty eye and talons of iron, screaming his -call of warning to his partner, slowly circling in graceful curves high, -high in the blue ether above him. Ay! proud bird, our nation’s emblem, -would that thy wild scream could warn from us, the accursed spirit of -Mammon, which, spreading like an incubus, blights and destroys with its -mildew the virtues and energies of her sons. - -But see, where, as the dense forest stretches onward, the casual spark -dropped by the hand of the woodman, spreading into flame, and gathering -in mighty volumes of fire, has swept onwards in its roaring, crackling, -destroying progress, leaving nought behind it, save these grim and -blackened skeletons, and dead plains of ashes. See what darkness and -desolation, and apparent annihilation, extend around you—but yet, -silently and quietly, ere long, shall the germ of life which can never -die, rise from these ashes, and verdure and beauty reign again, as was -their wont. Even so the solitary mourner, when death strikes down at -his side his dearest ones, stands helplessly encircled by solitude and -desolation; but soon all-pervading benevolence causes the green germ -of the soul to rise from the ashes, and his heart again expands with -tenderness and sympathy. - -The scene of desolation is passed! and now, lest the Lord of fire should -reign uncontrolled, lo! where the spirit of the whirlwind has swept in -his wild tornado. Lo! far as your vision can command the circle—where, -rushing from the mountain gorges his chariots have whirled along in their -fierce career of destruction. In mid height, the lofty trees are snapped -like pipe-stems, and prone like the field of grain laid by the hand of -the reaper, huge trunks with the moss of centuries,—not here and there -one solitary,—but for miles, the whole vast forest—prostrate, never again -to rise. - -But speed! speed! the mountain passes are before us! See—see their -huge walls tower in chaotic wildness above us. Rocks on rocks—ledge on -ledge—cliff on cliff—plunged upon each other in frantic disorder. See— - - “See the giant snouted crags, ho! ho! - How they snort, how they blow.” - -See the huge rock ramparts shooting their wild peaks and jagged pinnacles -upwards, piercing the very sky above us! their frowning and gashed sides -trickling and discoloured with the corroding minerals in their bowels; -the stunted pines and evergreens clinging like dwarf shrubs in their -crevices. Take heed! beware you fall not. See the huge slides—they have -swept whole torrents of rocks, of earth, in promiscuous destruction, from -their summits, upon the valley below—the rivers filled, and turned from -their courses, in their path,—the very forest itself—the loftiest trees -torn up, their branches, their trunks, their upturned roots ground and -intermixed with rock and earth, and splintered timber, swept on in wild, -inextricable confusion—and here! where starting from their slumbers, the -devoted family rushed naked and horror-stricken to meet it in mid career. -Ay! hold on by the sides of the steep precipice—cling to the ledge as -the wild wind rushes by in furious gust—a slip were your passport to -eternity. Look down! How awful the precipice, thousands of feet below -you—how the blood curdles and rushes back upon the heart, as you imagine -the fatal plunge. Well might the Puritans of old, deem these ghastly -deserts the abode and haunts of the evil one. - -But, on—on—how toilsome the ascent.—That was a fearful blast; hold -tightly the wild roots in thy grasp as it passes. Long since have we -passed the region of vegetation: the dry and arid moss clinging to rock -and stone, is alone around us. Ay! drink of that spring—but beware its -icy coldness—nor winter, nor summer, alters its temperature. Behold, in -the clefts and gorges below, the never-melting snow-wreaths. The flaming -suns of summer pass over, and leave them undiminished. Courage! we climb, -we climb. The witches of the Brocken ne’er had such wild chaos for their -orgies. Courage, my friend! We ascend—we ascend—we reach the top—now -panting—breathless—exhausted, we throw ourselves upon the extreme summit. - -Gather your faculties—press hard your throbbing heart. Catch a view of -the scene of grandeur around you, before the wild clouds, like dense -volumes of steam, enclose us in their embrace, shutting it from our -vision;—mountains—mountains—rolling off as far as eye can reach in -untiring vastness—a huge sea of mountains held motionless in mid career. -How sublime! how grand! what awful solitude! what chilling, stern, -inexorable silence! It seems as if an expectant world were awaiting in -palpitating stillness the visible advent of the Almighty—mountain and -valley in expectant awe. Oh! man—strutting in thy little sphere, thinkest -thou that adoration is confined alone to thy cushioned seats—thy aisles -of marble; that for devotion, the Almighty looks to nought but thee? -Why, look thou there!—beneath—around—millions—millions—millions of -acres teeming with life, yet hushed in silence to thy ear—each grain -the integer and composite of a world—the minutest portion, a study—a -wonder in itself—lie before thee in awful adoration of their Almighty -Founder. Well did the Seers of old go into the mountains to worship. -Oh! my brother-man—thou that dost toil, and groan, and labour, in -continual conflict with what appears to thee unrelenting fate—thou to -whom the brow-sweat appears to bring nought but the bitter bread, and -contumely, and shame;—thou on whom the Sysiphean rock of misfortune seems -remorselessly to recoil—ascend thou hither. Here, on this mountain-peak, -nor King, nor Emperor are thy superior. Here, thou _art_ a man. Stand -thou here; and while with thy faculties thou canst command, in instant -comprehension, the scene sublime before thee, elevate thee in thy -self-respect, and calmly, bravely throw thyself into the all-sheltering -arms of Him, who watches with like benevolence and protection, the young -bird in its grassy nest, and the majestic spheres, chiming eternal music -in their circling courses! - - - - -BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT. - - -Here we are at Newport—what a little gem of an island—rising like emerald -on sapphire, from the surrounding ocean. Neither at Potter’s nor at -Whitfield’s, will we take our abode. We will walk up to the Mall. Ay, -here, with its green blinds and scrupulously clean piazza, is old Mrs. -E——’s, and they are at tea already. Come, take your seat at table. - -With what serene dignity and kindness the old lady, in her nice plaited -cap, her spotless kerchief, and russet poplin dress, her pin ball, with -its silver chain, hanging at her waist—presides at the board—crowded -with every imaginable homely delicacy—from the preserved peach and -crullers made by herself, to the green candied limes brought home by her -grandson from his last West India voyage. See the antique furniture, -with its elaborate carving, the mahogany-framed looking-glasses; and, -in the corner, on the round stand, the large Bible, carefully covered -with baize, surmounted with the silver spectacles. No place this for -swearing, duel-fighting, be-whiskered heroes; but just the thing for -quiet, sober folk, like you and me. What sayest thou, Scipio, thou ebon -angel,—that the ebb sets at five i’ the morning, and that old Davy Swan, -the fisherman, will be ready for us at the Long Wharf at that hour? Well, -get yourself ready and go along with us. Call us in season. Ay, that -will do—the roll of those eyes—the display of that ivory, to say nothing -of the scratch of that head, and the sudden displacement of that leg, -sufficiently evince thy delight. - -So, so,—here we are, punctual to the hour. Ay, yonder he is in his broad -strong fishing-boat; yonder is old Davy Swan, as he was twenty years -ago; the same tall, gaunt figure, the same stoop in the shoulders, -bronzed visage, and twinkling grey eyes; the same wrinkles at the side -of his mouth, though deeper; the same long, lank hair, but now the sable -silvered; the same—the same that he was in the days of my boyhood. He -sees us. Now he stretches up to the wharf. Jump in—jump in. Be careful, -thou son of Ethiopia, or thy basket will be overboard—sad disappointment -to our sea-whet appetites some few brief hours hence. All in. We slide -gently from the wharf. The light air in the inner harbour here barely -gives us headway. Look down into the deep, still water—clear as crystal; -see the long sea-weed wave below; see the lithe eels, coursing and -whipping their paths through its entangled beds; and see our boat, with -its green and yellow sides—its long flaunting pennant—its symmetrical -white sails, suspended, as if in mid-air, on its transparent surface. - -How still and tranquil lies the quiet town, as the sun gilds its white -steeples; and how comfortable look the old family mansions rising from -the green trees. How beautifully the yellow sun casts his shadows on the -undulating surface of the island, green and verdant—the flocks of sheep, -and browsing cattle, grouped here and there upon its smooth pastures. And -see, how yonder alike he gilds the land of the brave, the chivalrous, -the unfortunate Miantonimoh. We float past Fort Wolcott. Its grass-grown -ramparts, surmounted with dark ordnance, and its fields cheerful with -white-washed cottages and magazines. - -Ay! now it breezes a little—now we gather headway—and now we pass the -cutter. See her long, taper, raking masts, her taut stays and shrouds; -and hear, as the stripes and stars are run up to her gaff, the short -roll of the drum, the “beat to quarters.” Hah! Davy,—old fellow, dost -remember that note last war? How many times, at midnight, we’ve sprang -from our beds as that short, quick “rub-a-dub” warned us of the approach -of the blockading frigates, as they neared the town. But, no, no,—forgive -me, old tar,—I recollect, indeed, thou then wast captain of thy gun, -on board the dashing _Essex_. Ay! well now do I remember, brave old -sailor, thy conduct in her last desperate battle. Eighteen men hadst thou -killed at thy single gun. I think I see thee now, as grimed with powder, -spattered with blood, thou didst advance, through fire and smoke, and -approach thy saturnine commander on the quarter-deck. I hear thy brief, -business-like request, “A fresh crew for Number Three, Second Division. -All my men are killed!” And the short, stern response, “Where is your -officer?” “_Dead_,—swept overboard by cannon shot.” And well can I see -the momentary play of anguish round his mouth, as, resuming his hurried -walk, he gloomily replies, “I have no more men—you must fight your gun -yourself!” Ay—and as thy proud ship a helpless target lay, for twice -superior force, I hear poor Ripley, thy brave comrade, severed almost in -twain by cannon shot, crying, with short farewell—“Messmates, I am no -longer of use to myself or country,” as he throws himself, his life-blood -gushing, overboard. - -But now the wind freshens—the smooth surface darkens—the sails belly out -in tension, and the white ripples gather under our bows. We round the -point: Fort Adams, we pass thy massive walls, thy grim “forty-two’s” -glaring like wild beasts, chained, ready to leap upon us from their -casements. Ay—now we run outside—now it freshens—now it breezes—she -begins to dance like a feather. There it comes stronger! see the white -caps! There she goes—scuppers under—swash—swash—swash—we jump from wave -to wave, as we run parallel with the shore, our pennant streaming proudly -behind us. Here it comes, strong and steady—there she takes it—gunwale -under—luff, old fellow! luff up, Davy! or you’ll give us all wet jackets. -Ay! that will do—she’s in the wind’s eye. How the waves tumble in upon -the land—see the Spouting Rock—see the column of white foam thrown up, -as repulsed, the waves roll out again from the rocky cavern. We near -the Dumplings—and, round to! round to! here are the lobster-pots—haul -in—tumble them in the bottom of the boat—ay—there’s bait enough. Now we -lay our course across to Beaver Light—we slide, we dash along—springing -from wave to wave—dash—dash—no barnacles on her bottom at this rate, -Davy. Ay, here we are—a quick run—a good quick run. Anchor her just -outside the surf—ay, that will do—give her a good swing—let her ride -free—she rolls like a barrel on these long waves. Look to your footing, -boys—steady—steady. Now, then, for it. Davy, you and Scip will have as -much as you can do to bait for us—all ready. Here goes then—a good long -throw—that’s it—my sinker is just inside the surf. What!—already! I’ve -got him—pull in, pull in—see, my line vibrates like a fiddle-string!—pull -away—here he is—_Tautaug_—three-pounder. Lie you there—ay, slap away, -beauty, you have done for ever with your native element. There, again—off -with him. Again—again—again. This is fun to us, but death to you, -ye disciples of St. Anthony! Give me a good large bait this time, -Scipio—that will do—now, whis-whis-whis-te—that’s a clean, long throw. -By Jupiter! you have got a bite with a vengeance. Careful—give him more -line—let it run—play him—ease—ease the line around the thole-pin; he’ll -take all the skin of your fingers else. Pull away gently—there he runs. -Careful, or you lose him—play him a little—he begins to tire—steady, -steady—draw away—now he shoots wildly this way—look out! there he goes -under the boat; here he is again. Steady—quick, Davy, the net;—I’ve got -it under him—now then, in with him. Bass! twenty pounds, by all the -steel-yards in the old Brick Market! Ay, there they have got hold of -me; a pull like a young shark; let it run—the whole line is out—quick, -quick—take a turn round the thole-pin—snap! There, Davy! there goes -your best line, sinker, hooks and all. Give me the other line. Ah, -ha!—again—again—again. This is sport. One—two—three——nine Bass, and -thirty Tautaug. So—the tide won’t serve here any longer; we will stretch -across to Brenton’s Reef, on the other side. Up anchor, hoist away the -jib. Here we go, again coursing o’er the blue water. How the wind lulls. -Whew—whew—whew—blow wind, blow! Put her a little more before it; that -will do. Hallo, you, Scipio! wake up—wake up. Here we are, close on the -reef—give her plenty of cable. Let her just swing clear, to lay our -sinkers on the rocks. That will do. How the surges swell, and roar, and, -recoiling, rush again boiling on the rocks. So—so, they don’t bite well -here to-day. The tide comes in too strong flood; well, we can’t complain, -we have had good sport even as it is. Come, Africa, bear a hand; let’s -see what you have got in that big basket. Come, turn out, turn out. Ham, -chicken, smoked salmon, bread and butter; and in that black bottle?—ay, -good old brown stout? Pass them along—pass them along, and wo be unto -thee, old fellow, if thy commissariat falls short. - - - - -BRENTON’S REEF. - - -With what sullen and continuous roar the ocean waves heave in upon this -inhospitable reef. See, as they recede, how the long slimy rock-weed -hangs dripping, and how deeply the returning surge buries it again. Oh, -never shall I forget the scene upon this horrid reef, witnessed in my -boyhood. A dark portentous day in autumn, was followed in the evening -by a terrific storm. Low, muttering thunder, which had been growling -in the distant horizon, as the night set in, grew louder. The perfect -stillness which had obtained, as if in preparation, was broken by long -moaning sighs; the lightning became quick and incessant, and ere long, -the tempest, like an unchained demon, came bounding in from Ocean. The -lightning intensely vivid, accompanied by crashing and terrific thunder, -illuminated the surrounding coast with glittering splendour; the islands, -the rocks, and yon beacon tower, now exposed to brightness, surpassing -noon-day, and now plunged into blackest darkness. The ocean appeared a -sea of molten fire. Rain—hail—dashed hissing by, and mid the screaming -of the blast, and the torrents rushing from the skies, the huge waves -plunged, and roared, and lashed in milky whiteness, broke mast high -upon these horrid rocks. While the fishermen in their cottages were -thanking their stars that they were snug and safe on shore, we heard in -the temporary lulls of the howling storm, signal guns of distress. The -neighbouring inhabitants, myself among the number, were soon upon that -point, and by the glittering flashes within musket shot of the shore, -discerned a Spanish ship on the very ridge of the frightful reef—the -stumps of her masts alone remaining—the surf running and breaking in a -continual deluge over her, while in her fore shrouds were congregated -the unhappy crew. She was so near to us, that we could almost see the -expression of agony in their countenances, as, with extended hands they -piteously shrieked for help. Their situation was hopeless. We could do -nothing for them. No whale-boat could have lived for a moment, the surf -rolled in with such resistless violence. We could only listen in silent -horror. We heard the very grinding of her timbers, as shock on shock -hastened her dissolution; and amid the fury of the storm, and their -frantic cries for aid, never shall I forget, in the momentary lulls, the -sickening continuous wail of a young boy lashed in the mid-rigging,—his -supplicating exclamation, “Ai Jesus!—Ai Jesus!” Often, years after, in -my dreams, did I hear those plaintive cries, and see that young boy’s -face turned imploringly to Heaven, while that “Ai Jesus!—Ai Jesus!” -rang wildly in my ears. But a short time could human fabric sustain the -ceaseless plunge of the foaming elements. By the lightning flashes, we -could see the number of the sufferers lessen, as relaxing their hold, -they dropped off exhausted one by one—swept into the rocky caverns -below; until, a longer interval of darkness—a more intense flash of -lightning—and all had disappeared. Nought was left but the white foam as -it rushed tumultuously boiling and coursing over the long reef before -us. It was so brief—so hurried—the appearance of our fellow-creatures in -their agony, and their disappearance so sudden, that it seemed a feverish -dream. But the dead, mutilated bodies—ceroons of indigo and tobacco—and -broken planks, swept along the shore on the following morning, convinced -us of its sad reality. - -The corse of the young boy, ungashed by the ragged rocks, I found, and -caused it to be buried apart from the rest in the church-yard, for it -appeared, as if there was in his childish helplessness, a claim upon -me for protection. That expression of agony I ne’er heard since—save -once: and that—but Davy, we have had all the sport we are like to have -to-day—get up the anchor, and we will fan along up to the harbour. So—let -her jibe—now put her before it—ay—that will do.—As I was saying. Shortly -after the close of the last war, buoyant with youth and hope, I made, -what was then not so common as now, the tour of Europe—lingering long in -Old Spain, fascinated with the romantic character of the countrymen of -Cervantes—of the gallant Moors—of the Alhambra and the Cid. It chanced -one evening, strolling about the streets of Madrid in pursuance of -adventure, that, passing through one of the most unfrequented squares, -I was attracted by lights shining through the long Gothic windows of a -large chapel or cathedral. I approached, and entering with some curiosity -found it entirely silent. No living soul was present within its walls. -The lofty chancel and altars were shrouded in mourning. By the wax -candles on the altars, I could see the fretted arches—the shrines and -monuments along the walls—and the family banners wreathed in gloomy -festoons above them. I wandered about, alone and uninterrupted. Nought -moved, save the old blood-stained flags, as they fitfully waived to and -fro in the wind. I gazed around me in admiration on the rich shrines -and their appropriate pictures. Here, with her offerings of flowers, -the wax candles, burning bright and clear, was the Madonna, her lovely -countenance beaming with celestial sweetness, as she looked down upon the -infant Saviour nestling in her arms—the Baptist standing at her knee, -pressing the plump little foot to his lips—and there, John in the island -of Patmos—his emaciated limbs staring from their scanty covering of -sackcloth—and his gaunt features glowing with inspiration, as from among -the cloud of scattered grey hair, and venerable beard, with upturned -face, he received from the flame-encircled trumpet above him, the Holy -Revelation. - -Here, armed cap-à-pied, the chivalrous Knights of the Temple consigned -their slain brother to his rocky sepulchre, as with grim, stern, averted -countenances they watched the fierce conflict and assault of the daring -Infidel upon their Holy City—and there, the cross of Constantine richly -emblazoned on its altar, was the _Crucifixion_, the Saviour extended -on the cross—the thieves on each side of him—the head just bowed—and -the awful “_It is finished!_” announced to the nations in frightful -phenomena. The sun turned to blood, throwing a lurid and unnatural -glare on the assembled multitude—the war-horses, riderless, rearing -and plunging with distended nostrils—rolling in convulsions the solid -mountains;—the affrighted soldiery, horror-stricken, wildly lifting their -hands to ward off the toppling crag, which, torn from its foundation by -the earthquake, was in another instant to grind them to powder—while -the Roman centurion, with curling lip, holding tighter in his grasp the -crimson flag, the “_S. P. Q. R._” shaking fiercely in the wild wind, -seemed to deride the coward Jew, even in that dread moment, with his -abject slavery—and here was San Sebastian, his eyes streaming with martyr -tears—and the tinkling of a small bell struck upon my ear:—boys clad in -scarlet, swung their censers to and fro, and the incense floated high -above them to the vaulted arches. - -A train of monks, in purple robes embroidered with white crosses, -appeared in procession, slowly advancing on the tesselated pavement, -bearing on tressels, covered with dark pall, a corse, by the muffled -outline, of manly stature. Two female figures; grave servitors, with deep -reverence supporting them, followed close the dead. The deep thunder -tones of the huge organ, swept upward as they entered, wild, grand, -and terrible, as if touched by no earthly hand: scarce audible sounds -floating from the smallest pipes would catch the ear—then bursts, like -the roaring whirlwind, pouring in the whole mass of trumpets, rolling, -and rising, and falling,—the most exquisite symphonies floating in the -intervals, until fainter, fainter, the heart sickened in efforts to -catch its tones. Dead silence followed:—the corse was deposited in the -chancel—the dark black pall was slowly withdrawn, and the noble figure of -a cavalier in the bloom of manhood, pallid in death, lay exposed before -us. Clad in sable velvet, his rapier rested on his extended body, the -jewelled cross-hilt reverently enclosed in his clasped hands, as they -met upon his broad chest, while the luxuriant raven hair, parted on the -high forehead, the dark arched eye-brow, and the glossy moustache curling -on the lip, added deeper pallor, to what appeared deep, deep sleep. The -servitors withdrew, and the mother and the daughter advanced to the last -sight of him that was so generous, so kind, so beautiful—their all. The -thick veil, thrown hastily aside, discovered the furrowed, time-worn, -grief-worn features of the mother, convulsively writhe and work, as, -sinking at its head, her lips pressed in uncontrollable agony the damp -cold white forehead. The sister, clad in robes of purest whiteness, her -golden ringlets dishevelled and floating around her, and in their rich -luxuriance, almost hiding her graceful form, bent o’er him; and as her -gaze met not the answering smile of kindness and protection, to which -from infancy it was wont, but the stern, calm, sharpened features, -in their icy stillness; then, as with frantic sobs, her exquisitely -feminine, almost childish countenance, streaming with tears, was lifted -upwards, and her hands wringing with anguish,—then uttered in deep -convulsive bitterness, that “_Ai Jesus!_” in smothered tones, again -struck upon my startled ear. Long silence followed, unbroken save by -sobs, as, sunk by its side, they embraced the still, unconscious ashes. -Slowly the deep grave voices of the monks rose in solemn tones, and as -their mournful chant sank into deep bass, at intervals was it taken -up by a single female voice in the choir, which, high above the organ -tones, with surpassing sweetness, ascended higher, higher, until every -nook in the lofty arches above, appeared filled and overflowing with the -rich melody: then, descending lower—lower—lower—the imagination wildly -sought it in the passing wind. The monks drew near with uplifted and -extended hands, muttering in low tones their benediction; then crossing -themselves, encircling the corse on bended knees, with eyes lifted up to -heaven, uttered, in loud voices— - - “Ora pro illo—mater miserecordiæ,” - “Salvator Hominum—Ora pro illo”—— - -“_Ora pro illo_,” again rose like a startled spirit from the choir, in -that single female voice, rising with an intensity that made the old -walls re-echo the petition—and then, descending like the fluttering of a -wounded bird, it became less—less—and all was still. - -After a brief interval, leaning in apparent stupor upon the arms of the -affectionate retainers, the ladies slowly withdrawing, passed again the -chancel’s entrance, and the sacred procession raising the body with -melancholy chant, bore it to the lower part of the chapel. I heard the -clank of iron, as the rusty portal of the family sepulchre reluctant -turned upon its hinges;—and then rested from its human journey, that -corse forever. I made inquiries, but could learn nought about the actors -in the scene, other than that they were strangers,—a noble family from -the Havana;—that the father—invalid—had died in crossing the sea—and the -usual story of Spanish love, and jealousy, and revenge, had consigned -the son and brother, in the bloom of his days, by duel, to his grave; -and subsequently, that the mother and sister had closed the history of -the family, dying, broken-hearted, in the convent to which they had -retired. But, here we are, at the wharf. Our rapid journey approaches -now its termination. A few short hours, and we shall again be merged -in the ceaseless din of the city; the fair and tranquil face of nature -change for the anxious countenances of our fellow-men; the joyous carol -of the birds, the soft forest breeze, and the sea-beach ripple, for paved -streets and our daily round of duty and of labour. We have found “a -world beyond Verona’s walls.” Perhaps at future time we may again travel -it together. Till then, thanking you for your “right good and jollie” -company. Farewell! - - - - -OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. - -BROADWAY NEAR THE BOWLING-GREEN. - - -(Ground covered with ice—Furious storm of snow and sleet. Two gentlemen -becloaked and bemuffled, hurrying in different directions, come in full -contact, and mutually recoiling hasten to make apology.) - -“My dear Sir—a thousand pardons.”—“No, indeed Sir, ’twas I—I was the -offending party.”—“No, I assure you—I”—eh!—is it?—it is!—my old friend -the reader.—Why, my dear friend—you came upon me as if you had been -discharged from a Catapult—a Paixhan shot was nothing to you? But where -so fast in the fury of the storm—Not to Union Square! Heavens! Man, you -will never reach there living—Why in this horrid cold the spirits of -Nova-Zembla and Mont-Blanc are dancing in ecstacy about the fountains -in the Park, and the very cabs are frozen on their axles! Never think -of it. Come—come with me to my rooms hard by in State-street, and -on the word of a bachelor and a gentleman, I’ll promise to make you -comfortable. Come, take my arm—Whew! how this North-Wester sweeps around -the Battery. Here we are—This is the house—A real aristocratic old -mansion; is it not?—Enter, my dear friend—Run up the stairs—Holloa! -ho! Scip!—Scipio—Africanus—Angel of Darkness—come forth—come forth—Ay! -here you are. And you, too, shaggy old Neptune, your eyes sparkling with -delight, and your long tongue hanging out over your white teeth—down—you -old rascal—down sir—down. Now, is not this snug and comfortable—a good -roaring fire of hickory—none of your sullen red-hot anthracite for me. -How the cold wind howls through the leafless trees upon the Battery,—Draw -the curtains—Scip!—Come, bear a hand, take the reader’s hat and coat. -Invest him with the wadded damask dressing gown that Tom sent home -from Cairo—and the Turkish slippers—So—so—Now bring me mine; place the -well-stuffed easy chairs; roll the round table up between us—bring in -the lights. Now, reader, at your elbow, lo! provision for your wants, -material and mental—genuine old Farquhar and amber Golden Sherry—the -Chateaux I got years since from Lynch; and just opened is that box of -genuine Regalias, only smell! “Fabrica de Tabacos—Calle-a-Leon—En la -Habana, No. 14.” Is it not Arabia’s perfume! Ha! give me your smoking -Spaniard in his sombrero—e’er any a half-naked Bedouin of them all;—or -if indeed you do prefer it, there stands the Chiboque coiled up in -the corner, and the metaphysical German’s meer-schaum on the shelf. -There are biscuit and anchovies, and olives, “old Cheshire,” and other -inviting things for your wants physical, and for your mental, lo! uncut -and damp from the publishers with the regular new book smell—the North -American—Old Blackwood—the Quarterly—the Edinburgh Review—Diedrich in -his high back chair, the Sporting and other Maga’s, and by a slight -curve of thy vertebræ cervical, behold shining through yon glazed -doors—glowing in gold, dross to the gold within; the great master Bard of -England—Cervantes—the chosen spirits of Italia and Gaul—Irving—worthy to -be called Washington—Bryant—sweet poet—and Halleck, genuine son of the -voyagers in the Mayflower—and of literature much other goodly store. - -Now, Scip! Lord of the Gold Coast—throw more wood upon the fire—Ay! that -will do—my good old faithful servant—that will do—now take that pepper -and salt head of thine down to the kitchen hearth, there to retail thy -legend and goblin story, or ensconce thee in the corner at thy will—Ah! -hah, old Neptune—snug in thy place upon the hearth rug—thy nose lying -between thy outstretched paws as thou lookest intently in the fire—Bless -thine honest heart!—thinking, I warrant me, of the beautiful child whom -thou didst leap the Battery bridge to save. How bravely thou didst bear -the little sufferer up on the fast rushing tide. The grateful father -would have bought thee for thy weight in gold, as thou didst lie panting -and half exhausted—but look not so wistfully my dog—a sack of diamonds -could not purchase thee—no—never do we part till death steps in between -us—and, by my faith, an’ thou goest first, thou shalt have Christian -burial. - -Now, dear reader, as thou reclinest comfortably in that big arm chair, -thy feet in Ottoman slippers resting on the fender, the blue smoke of -thy cigar wreathing and curling around thy nose, as it ascends in placid -clouds, and floats in misty wreaths above thy forehead—the glass of -Chateaux, like a ruby resting upon its slender stem, light, quivering at -thy elbow, and that open Blackwood upon thy knee—dost not—confess it—dost -not feel more kind and charitable, than if, with benumbed fingers, thou -wert following a frozen visage to thy distant mansion, in the great -city’s far purlieus— - -But, heaven guard us! how savagely the tempest roars and howls around -the chimney tops—Good angels preserve the poor mariner as he ascends -the ice-clad rigging—lays out upon the slippery yard—and handles with -frost-benumbed fingers the rigid canvass folds. Ah! I recollect it was -in just such a night as this, a few years since—years that have rolled -past into retrograde eternity, that I was seated in that same arm chair, -in the same bachelor independence, the fire burning just as brightly—the -curtains as snugly drawn—my beautiful Flora looking down with the same -sweetness from her frame above the mantel—my snow white Venus between the -piers—the Gladiator stretching forth his arm in just such proud defiance -from his pedestal—my Rembrandt—Claude—and Rubens flickering in softness -in the firelight—the Fornarina and St. Cecilia with vase of incense -clasped, and upturned eyes of deep devotion, hanging in the same placid -stillness between their silken tassels, and that Æolian harp chiming just -such wild and fitful strains—’twas in just such a cold and inhospitable -night, that, sitting with my legs extended upon the fender, I fell into a -train of rather melancholy musings. - -The clock of St. Paul’s slowly doled out the hour of midnight, and -it seemed as if in the responsive, al-l’-s-w-e-l-l of the watchman, -rendered indistinct by the distance, the spirit of the hour was -bewailing in plaintive tones the annihilation of its being. Time’s -brazen voice announced to unheeding thousands—“Ye are rushing on -eternity.” I thought of my friends who had dropped off one by one, -from around me,—youth and old age had alike sunk into the abyss of -death—consumption—fever—palsy—had done their work; the slight ripple of -their exit had subsided, and all was still—as quiet and as beautiful as -if they had never been. Among others, was poor Louisa S——, in the prime -of her youth, and the bloom of her beauty. But one short week—she was -the pride of her friends, the idol of her husband;—in another, the slow -toll of the village bell announced her funeral. I shall never forget -the scene. The soft yellow light of the declining sun was streaming -through the lofty elms which bordered the rustic grave-yard, painting -their broad shadows on the velvet turf, as the procession of mourners -slowly wended their way among the mounds which covered the decaying -remnants of mortality. Leaning upon a tomb-stone near the fresh dug -grave, I had awaited its arrival. The bier was placed upon the ground—the -coffin-lid was thrown open, and friends looked for the last time upon -the beautiful face, pallid and sharp in death. Her dark hair was parted -upon her forehead,—but the dampness of death had deprived it of its -lustre, and her soft eyes were closed in the slumber from whence they -were never again to wake. I gazed long and painfully upon that face -which appeared to repose only in serene and tranquil sleep, while the -sobbing group reached forward to catch a last and parting glimpse of it -in its loveliness. Oh! I could not realize that the lovely form was still -forever—that those lips were to remain closed, till the day, when amid -whirlwinds and fire, they were to plead her cause before the Almighty. -The coffin-lid was replaced in silence—a suppressed whisper from the -sexton—a harsh grating of the cords, and the gaping pit received its -prey. While the clergyman in his deep and gloomy voice, was pronouncing -the burial service of the dead, I looked around upon the uncovered -group,—the mother and sister in unrestrained sobs, gave vent to their -anguish, but the husband stood, his eyes fixed upon the grave in deep and -silent agony. He moved not, but when the dead heavy clamp of earth and -stones fell upon the coffin, which contained the remains of all that was -dear to him, he gave a gasp, as if he had received a death wound—but that -was all;—the thick, convulsive breathing, and the swollen arteries upon -his temples, showed that his was the bitterness of despair. Ere long, his -wasted form beneath its own green hillock, rested at her side. - -I had sat some time, thinking “of all the miseries that this world is -heir to,” when gradually, my room became mazy, the tongs and fender were -blended into one—the fire slowly disappeared, and, to my utter horror and -astonishment, I found myself swinging upon the weather-cock of Trinity -Church steeple.—How I came there, I could not tell, but there I was. Far, -far below me, I saw the long rows of lamps in Broadway and the adjoining -streets, shining in lines of fire; while here and there the glimmer of -those upon the carriages, as they rolled along, resembled the ignis fatui -in their ghostly revels upon the morass. The bay lay in the distance, -glittering in the moonlight, a sea of silver, the islands and fortresses -like huge monsters resting upon its bosom. All nature appeared at rest. -An instant, and but an instant, I gazed in wild delight upon the scene; -but as the novelty vanished, the dreadful reality of my situation became -apparent. I looked above me—the stars were trembling in the realms of -space. I looked below, and shuddered at the distance—I tried to believe -that I was in a dream—but that relief was denied me. I grew wild with -fear—I madly called for help—I screamed—I yelled in desperation. Alas! -my voice could not be heard one half the distance to earth. I called -on angels—Heaven, to assist me,—but the cold wind alone answered, as -it rushed around the steeple in its whistle of contempt. As my animal -spirits were exhausted, I became more calm. I perceived that the slender -iron upon which the weather-cock was fixed was slowly bending with the -weight of my body, already benumbed with cold. Although it was madness, -I ventured a descent. Moving with extreme caution, I clasped the spire -in my arms—I slid down inch by inch. The cold sweat poured off my brow, -and the blood curdling in my veins, rushed back in thick and suffocating -throbs upon my heart. I grasped the steeple tighter in my agony—my nails -were clenched in the wood—but in vain; slip—slip—the steeple enlarged -as I descended—my hold relaxed—the flat palms of my hands pressed the -sides, as I slid down with frightful rapidity. Could I but catch the -ledge below! I succeeded—I clutched it in my bleeding fingers—for a -moment I thought that I was safe, but I swung over the immense height -in an instant; the wind dashed me from side to side like a feather. I -strove to touch the sides of the steeple with my knees—I could not reach -it—my strength began to fail—I felt the muscles of my fingers growing -weaker. The blackness of despair came over me. My fingers slid from the -ledge—down—down I plunged—one dash upon the roof, and I was stretched -motionless upon the pavement. - -A crowd collected around me. I heard them commiserating my fate. They -looked at me, and then at the steeple, as if measuring the distance from -whence I had fallen; but they offered me no assistance. They dispersed—I -slowly raised myself on my feet—all was cold and still as the grave. -Regions of ice—an immense transparent mirror, extended on every side -around me. The cold, smooth plain, was only measured by the horizon. -I found myself on skates;—I rushed along, outstripping the winds,—I -ascended mountains of ice,—I descended like a meteor—Russia, with her -frozen torrents,—Siberia with its eternal snows, were behind me,—miles -and degrees were nothing—on I rushed,—Iceland vanished,—with the speed of -a thunderbolt I passed Spitzbergen,—days, weeks expired, but still I sped -forward, without fatigue, without exhaustion. How delightfully I glided -along—no effort—no exertion—all was still, cold, and brilliant. I neared -the pole,—the explorers were slowly wending their tedious way,—they -hailed me, but I could not stop,—I was out of sight in an instant. I saw -an immense object swinging to and fro in the distance—it was the great -and mighty pendulum. As I neared it, a confused noise of voices broke -upon my ear,—mathematical terms echoed and re-echoed each other, like the -hum of a bee-hive. I was surrounded with winged chronometers, barometers -and magnets—plus, (+) minus (-) and the roots (√ √) were flying around me -in every direction, jostling each other without mercy. Great long-legged -compasses with knowing look were gravely listening to the measured tick -of prim chronometers, and groups of angles and parallelograms watched -the variations of the needle. Every instrument of science appeared -collected in solemn conclave, for great and mighty purpose,—but soon all -was hubbub and confusion. The compasses and Gunther’s scale had come to -blows. Angles and triangles, oblongs and cones, formed a ring around -them. Little cylinders and circles came rolling in from every quarter -to see the fun, and bottle-holding squares and cubes stood stoutly at -their champions’ sides, while electric jars mounted on a neighbouring -dial, in highest glee, spirited forth whole streams of snapping sparks -to incite them in the contest. The scale was down, and the compass -bestrode him in proud defiance; but the bottle-holders interfering, all -was instant uproar and confusion, and the fight soon became one common -melée. Pins flew about, and springs and wheels went whizzing through the -throng, but amid the tumult, suddenly appeared a huge electrical machine, -grinding wrathfully along, and soon the field was cleared, and nought was -seen save here and there some limping figure hobbling off in desperate -precipitation. But amid the uproar, the giant pendulum still swung -forward and backward with the noiseless motion of the incubus;—I neared -it and saw that the top of the huge rod was riveted by the pole star, -which shone with the intensity of the diamond. But—but— - -I saw the ship approaching among the distant icebergs—the great lordly -icebergs,—how they rolled and roared and ground against each other in -the heavy surge!—their huge sides now shining great sheets of silver—now -glancing with the deep blue of the precious sapphire, now quivering -in the sun’s rays, with all the hues of the grass-green emerald and -blazing ruby,—ha! I saw her—I saw the gallant ship threading her way -among them, as their castellated sides towered mountain-like above her. -I made one spring—one gallant spring—and catching by her top-mast, slid -down in safety to her decks. Her sails were spread widely to the winds -and recklessly we ploughed our course onward through the icy flood;—but -now her speed diminished—now we scarcely moved. The rudder creaked -lazily from side to side, and the long pennant supinely resting on the -shrouds, languidly lifted itself as if to peer into the dark flood, -and then serpent-like, settled itself again to its repose. A sullen -distant roar began to break upon my ear,—it increased,—our before quiet -bark, hastening, rushed onwards as if ashamed of her dull reverie; but -still there was no wind—the sea was smooth and placid, but the swelling -surge was thrown forward from her bows, by the increasing velocity -with which we dashed along. The rushing noise of waters increased, and -sounded like distant thunder; the white surges showed themselves in the -distance, leaping and jumping with frightful violence. I approached -the captain;—his gloomy brow—the ghastly paleness of the crew, as with -folded arms they stood looking in the distance, alarmed me. I eagerly -asked the cause of the appearances before me,—he answered not,—he stood -immoveable as a statue:—but, in a cold unearthly voice, a scar-marked -sailor groaned, “We are food for the Maelstroom!”—Can we not, I -franticly exclaimed—oh! can we not escape? Bend every sail—ply every -oar,—“Too late—too late,” echoed again the gloomy voice—“our doom is -sealed;”—and the finger of the speaker pointed to a dark fiendish figure -at the helm, who, with a low hellish laugh, was steering for the midst. -The raging waves boiled and roared around us,—our fated ship plunged -forward—a steady resistless power sucked us in,—on we were hurried to -our frightful goal. The whale—the leviathan, swept by us—their immense -bodies were thrown almost entirely in the air,—their blood stained the -foaming brine—they roared like mad bulls. The zigzag lightning in the -black canopy above us, was reflected in fiery showers from the spray—the -crashing thunder mingled with the yells of the struggling monsters—their -efforts were vain—more power had infants in giants’ hands,—the devouring -whirlpool claimed us for its own. On we were borne in unresisting -weakness—faster and faster,—circle after circle disappeared,—we were on -the edge of the furious watery tunnel,—we were buried in its depths,—the -long arms of the loathsome polypi stretched forward to seize us in their -foul embrace—but an unseen hand raised me. - -Green woods—gardens, fountains, and grottoes were around me. Beautiful -flowers—roses—hyacinths, and lilies clustering in immense beds, covered -the ground with one great gem’d and emerald carpet. The gorgeous tulip, -the amaranthus and moss rose vied with each other in fragrant rivalry, -and the modest little violet, claimed protection in the embraces of the -myrtle. Fountains poured mimic cataracts into their marble basins, or, -spouting from the mouths of sphinxes and lions, ascended in crystal -streams, irrigating with copious showers the party-coloured beds beneath. -The long vistas were shaded with the magnolia and flowering almond, while -snow-white statues watched the beautiful picture of happiness around. -Birds of variegated colour and splendid plumage were flying from tree to -tree, and it appeared as if in their sweet notes, and the fragrance of -the flowers, nature was offering up her incense to the Creator. - -I was invigorated with new life—I ran from alley to alley—delicious -fruits tempted my taste—the perfumes of Arabia floated in the earthly -paradise,—music floated around,—trains of beautiful girls moved in -graceful ballets before me,—their slender forms were clad in snow-white -robes,—their girdles gemmed with diamonds—their alabaster necks twined -with wreaths of roses.—A joyous laugh burst from them, as they danced—now -in circles—now advancing—now retreating. The circle opened,—a veiled -figure was in the midst,—I approached—the fairies disappeared,—the veil -was slowly lifted,—one moment—my Cora!—we were alone,—we wandered from -bower to bower—her small white hand with electric touch, was within my -delighted grasp,—her golden ringlets mingled with my raven locks—her -dark eyes melted into mine. I fell upon my knee—a cold and grizzly -skeleton met my embrace—the groups of houris were changed into bands of -shrivelled hags;—in place of wreaths of roses, their shrivelled necks -were covered with the deadly nightshade and dark mandragora—forked adders -and serpents twined upon their long and bony arms,—I shuddered,—I was -chained in horror to the spot,—they seized me—they dragged me downward -to the dank and noisome vault.—’Twas light as day—but ’twas a strange -light—a greenish haze—sickly and poisonous as if the deadly miasma of the -fens had turned to flame. The dead men with burning lamps were sitting -on their coffins,—their chins resting upon their drawn up knees, and as -I passed along the extended rows, their eyes all turned and followed me, -as the eyes of portraits from the canvass. Ha! what cadaverous unearthly -stare met me at every turn;—I looked on all sides to avoid them, but -still, where’er I turned, the ghastly muffled faces with their blanched -lips, and deep sunken eyes livid in their sockets, surveyed me with -frightful interest,—and that fierce old hag—how she preceded me—step -by step—her finger pointing forward, while her Medusa head was turned -triumphantly over her shoulder, with its infernal leer upon my cowering -form.—Worlds would I have given to have been out from among the ghastly -crew—but a spell was on me—and I hurriedly made the circuit of the -vault, like a wild beast in his cage. But the old knight, sitting grim -and ghastly as if by constraint, in the lone corner, his long grizzly -beard flowing o’er his winding-sheet,—O! how his cold grey eye glanced -at his long two handed sword before him, as I passed, as if to clutch -it,—I plucked the old greybeard for very ire—ha! what a malignant and -discordant yell did then salute my horror-struck senses,—I gave one bound -of terror—and burst the prison door—and—and— - -My noble white charger leaped clear of the earth, as he felt my -weight in the saddle,—I was at the head of an immense army—my bold -cuirassiers formed a moving mass of iron around me. The bugle sounded -the signal for engagement;—peal after peal of musketry flashed from -the dark masses,—the rattling reverberating roar rolled from right to -left,—the gaping throats of the cannon, announced in broad flashes, -the departure of their messengers upon the journey of death. On we -rushed—battalion on battalion,—we stormed the redoubt,—“Charge,” I -shouted,—“Charge the villains—men of the fifth legion—follow your -leader—hurrah—they bear back.”—I seized the standard from a fallen -soldier,—I planted it upon the blood-stained parapet—horrible -confusion!—the trenches were choked with dead—Hah! brave comrade -beware!—his bayonet is at thy shoulder—’tis buried in thy heart.—I will -revenge thee!—I dashed upon him,—we fought like tigers,—we rolled upon -the ground,—I seized my dagger—the bright steel glittered—thousands of -deep hoarse voices wildly roared—“The mine—the mine—beware—beware!” -Flash—roar—bodies—earth—rocks—horses—tumbrils,—all descending, covered -me—and—and - -I awoke—the fender and fire-irons upset with horrid din and clatter—the -table, its lights and tea-set hurled around—and myself with might and -main striving with mighty effort to get from beneath the prostrate wreck -which in my terror I had dragged above me.—Old Neptune, aghast, howling -in consternation, from the corner, while a group of fellow-boarders, half -dead with laughter and amazement, were staring through the open door in -wonder at such unusual uproar from the lodger in quiet “No. VI.” - - - - -LONG ISLAND SOUND. - - -But hark! Old Scipio is fast asleep and snoring like Falstaff behind -the arras. Now that old negro is as assuredly dreaming of witches, or -wrecks, or pirates, or ghosts, that have been seen flitting about the -burying-grounds and country church-yards at midnight, as he sits there. -He is somewhere between eighty and one hundred, he does not exactly know -which; but as your negro keeps no family record, it is safe to allow a -lee-way of some ten years in the calculation of his nativity. Of his -genealogy though, he is quite sure, for he proves beyond a doubt, that -he is the son of Job, who was the son of Pomp, who was the son of Caleb, -who was the son of Cæsar, who was the son of Cudjoe, who was caught in -Africa. His whole life has been passed in and about the shores of Long -Island Sound, and he is not only a veritable chronicle of the military -adventures that have been enacted upon its borders in the American wars, -but his head is a complete storehouse, stuffed to overflowing with all -sorts of legendary lore, of wrecks, of pirates, of murders and fights, -and deeds unholy—of massacres, bombardments and burnings, all jumbled -up in such inexplicable confusion, history and legend, truth and -fiction, that it is almost impossible to divide the one from the other. -Sometimes in the cold winter nights, when the storm is howling, as it -does now, I put him upon the track, and upon my word, the influence of -his gossip told in drowsy under tone is such, that I find it a matter of -serious question, whether the most monstrous things in the way of the -supernatural, are by any means matter of wonderment; and fully concede, -that men may have been seen walking about with their heads under their -arms, vanishing in smoke upon being addressed—that old fishermen have -sculled about the creeks and bays in their coffins, after they were dead -and buried—that gibbets are of necessity surrounded by ghosts, and that -prophecies and predictions, and witchcraft are, and must be true as holy -writ. - -Indeed, with all the sad realities of life about me, I find it refreshing -to have my soul let loose occasionally, to wander forth, to frolic and -gambol, and stare, without any conventional rule, or let, or hindrance -to restrain it. In how many adventures has that good old negro, quietly -sleeping in the corner, been my guide and pilot. In our shooting, and -fishing and sailing excursions, the shores of the Sound became as -familiar to us as our own firesides, and the dark black rocks, with their -round and kelp covered sides as the faces of old friends and acquaintance. - -At a little village upon its western borders I passed my school-boy -days, and there it was that the old negro, formerly a slave, but long -liberated and in part supported by my family, had his hut. There it was -that under his influence I thoroughly contracted the love of adventure -which, in the retrospect still throws a sort of world of my own around -me. All sport, whether in winter or summer, night or day, rain or shine, -was alike to me the same, and sooth to say, if sundry floorings, for -truant days had been administered to Old Scip instead of me, the scale -of justice had not unduly preponderated; for his boats, and rods, and -nets, to say nothing of his musket which had belonged to a Hessian, and -the long bell-mouthed French fusee were always sedulously and invitingly -placed at my control. The old negro was sure to meet me as I bounded -from the school-room with advice of how the tides would serve, and how -the game would lie, and his words winding up his information in a low -confidential under-tone still ring upon my ear, “P’rhaps young massa like -to go wid old nigger.” - -His snug little hut down at the Creek side was covered and patched and -thatched with all the experiments of years to add to its warmth and -comfort. Its gables and chimney surmounted with little weather-cocks -and windmills spinning most furiously at every whiff of wind, its sides -covered with muskrat and loon skins nailed up to dry, and fishing rods -and spears of all sizes and dimensions piled against them, the ducks -and geese paddling about the threshold and his great fat hog grunting in -loving proximity to the door way, while its interior was garnished with -pots and kettles, and other culinary utensils; the trusty old musket -hanging on its hooks above the chimney place; the fish nets and bird -decoys lying in the corners, and the white-washed walls garnished and -covered with pictures, and coloured prints of the most negro taste indigo -and scarlet,—naval fights—men hanging on gibbets,—monstrous apparitions -which had been seen—lamentable ballads, and old Satan himself in -veritable semblance, tail, horns and claws, precisely as he had appeared -in the year Anno Domini, 1763; and under the little square mahogany -framed fly specked looking-glass, his Satanic Majesty again in full -scarlet uniform as British Colonel with a party of ladies and gentlemen -playing cards, his tail quietly curled around one of the legs of his arm -chair, and the horse hoof ill disguised by the great rose upon his shoe. -But Scip’ was safe against all such diabolic influence, for he had the -charmed horse shoe firmly nailed over the entrance of his door. - -Oh! how often have I silently climbed out of my window and stealthily -crept down the ladder which passed it, long and long before the dawn, -with my fowling piece upon my shoulder, and by the fitful moonlight -wended, half scared, my way through the rustic roads and lanes, leaping -the fences, saturated to the middle with the night-dew from the long -wet grass, the stars twinkling in the heavens, as the wild scudding -clouds passed o’er them, and nothing to break the perfect stillness. How -often at such times have I stopped and stared at some suspicious object -looming up before me, till, mustering courage, I have cocked my piece and -advancing at a trail, discovered in the object of my terror, a dozing -horse, or patient ox, or cow quietly ruminating at the road side. - -How often have I sprung suddenly aside, my hair standing on end, as a -stealthy fox or prowling dog rushed by me into the bushes, and felt -my blood tingle to my very fingers’ ends, as some bird of prey raised -himself with an uneasy scream and settled again upon the tree tops, as I -passed beneath. How I used to screw my courage up, as with long strides -and studiously averted eyes, I hurried past the dreaded grave yard; and -as I came upon the borders of the winding creek, and walked splashing -through its ponds and shallows, how would I crouch and scan through the -dim light to catch a glimpse of some stray flock of ducks or teal, that -might be feeding upon its sedges. How would I bend and stoop as I saw -them delightfully huddled in a cluster, till getting near I would find an -envious bend of long distance to be measured before I could get a shot. -How patiently would I creep along—and stop—and crouch—and stop, till -getting near, and nearer—a sudden slump into some unseen bog or ditch -would be followed by a quick “quack”—“quack”—and off they’d go—far out -of reach of shot or call. But all would be forgotten when I reached the -old Negro’s hut. There a hot corn cake and broiled fish or bird, was -always on the coals to stay my appetite—and then off we’d sally to the -Bar to lie in wait for the wild fowl as they came over it at day break. -The snipe in little clouds would start up with their sharp “pewhit” -before us, as we measured the broad hard flats left damp and smooth -by the receding tide; the Kildare with querulous cry would wing away -his flight, and the great gaunt cranes, looming, spectre-like, in the -moonlight, sluggishly stalking onwards, would clumsily lift their long -legs in silence as we advanced, and fan themselves a little farther from -our proximity. - -Arriving, we would lay ourselves down, and on the stones await the -breaking of the dawn, when the wild-fowl feeding within the bay arise -and fly to the south-ward over it. Dark objects, one after another, -would glide by us, and in silence take their places along the bar, bent -on the same sport that we were awaiting, and nothing would break the -stillness save the gentle wash and ripple of the waves upon the sands, -or the uneasy and discordant cry of the oldwives, feeding on the long -sedge within the wide-extended bay. The stars would ere long begin to -fade, the east grow grey, then streaked with light, and every sportsman’s -piece be cocked with eager expectation. A flash—a puff of smoke at the -extreme end, showed that a flock had risen, and simultaneously birds -would be seen tumbling headlong. As the astonished flock glanced along -the bar—flash—flash—puff—bang, would meet them, their numbers thinning -at each discharge, till passing along the whole line of sportsmen, -they would be almost annihilated; or wildly dashing through some wider -interval in the chain of gunners, they would cross the bar and escape -in safety. Then as the light increased followed the excitement; the -birds getting up in dense flocks, all bent in one direction, a complete -feu-de-joie saluted them—flash—flash—flash—the reports creeping slowly -after, the wild-fowl tumbling headlong, some into the water, and some -upon the sportsmen; while here a gunner, dropping his piece, might be -seen rushing in up to his neck recklessly after his victim, and there -some staunch dog’s nose just above the surface, unweariedly pursuing the -wing-broken sufferer, which still fluttered forward at his near approach. -Ah, ha! that—that was sport. Hundreds of wild-fowl, from the little -graceful teal to the great fishy loon and red-head brant, were the fruits -of the morning’s adventure. And what a contrast the sparkling eyes and -glowing faces of the elated sportsmen to the city’s pale and care-worn -countenances. They were a true democracy, white man, and black, and -half-breed, the squire and the ploughman, all met in like equality. - -Among the sportsmen on the bar at the season that I have just described, -there was always found a tall, gaunt, and extremely taciturn old Indian, -who passed among the people by the name of “Pequot.” His hut was about a -mile beyond Scipio’s, on the same creek, and like him, he obtained his -support mainly by the fruits of his hunting and fishing. Now and then, in -the harvest, or when the game was scarce, he would assist the farmers in -their lighter work, receiving, with neither thanks nor stipulation, such -recompense as they saw fit to make; and sometimes, in the cold depths -of winter, he would appear, and silently sitting at their firesides, -receive, as a sort of right, his trencher at their tables. He was so kind -in his assistance, and so inoffensive to all around him, that he was -always sure of welcome. But there was a marked feature in his character, -and one most unusual to the Indian’s nature, which was his dislike, -almost to loathing, of ardent spirits. He was a great deal at Scipio’s -hut, and I was strongly struck (boy as I was) with the harmony which -subsisted between two characters so apparently dissimilar—the sullen, -almost haughty Indian, and the light-hearted, laughter-loving negro; but -there was a sort of common sympathy—of oppression, I suppose—between -them, for they always assisted one another; and sometimes I have known -them gone for days together in their fishing expeditions on the Sound. -All the information that Scipio could give me about him, was that he had -been the same ever since he had known him, that he was supposed to have -come in from some of the Western tribes, and that from his haunting a -great deal about a neighbouring swamp, where the gallant tribe of Pequots -had, long years before, been massacred by fire and sword, the people -had given him the name of Pequot. Whatever he was, he was a noble old -Indian; the poetry of the character was left, while contact with the -whites, and the kind teachings of the Moravians had hewn away the sterner -features of the savage. I remember that I used to look at him, with all a -boy’s enthusiasm, admiring him with a mingled sense of sympathy and awe. -Even old Scip showed him habitual deference, for there was a melancholy -dignity about him; and his words, short and sententious, were delivered -with scrupulous exactness. I recollect once being completely taken aback -by the display of a sudden burst of feeling, which completely let me into -his ideal claims and imaginary pretensions. - -There was a good-natured old Indian, by the name of Pamanack, belonging -to one of the tribes which still clung to Long Island, in the vicinity of -Montaukett, who occasionally made his appearance off old Scip’s hut, in -the Sound, in his periogue, accompanied by some half dozen long-legged, -straight-haired, copper-coloured youths, his descendants. They every now -and then came cruising along the various fishing-grounds, and always, -when in the vicinity of Scip, the old Indian would pay him a visit, -and receive a return for the hospitality paid to the black man, when, -in his similar excursions, he got as far eastward as Montaukett. On the -particular occasion to which I have alluded, old Pamanack had drank more -than was good for him, when the Pequot presented himself silently at the -door of Scipio’s hut, and leaning upon his long ducking-gun, looked in -upon the group. After a few words of recognition passed between them, -Pamanack held out his black bottle, and invited the visiter to drink. -Pequot drew himself up to his extreme height, and for a moment there was -a mingled expression of loathing, abhorrence, and ferocity, flashing -from his countenance that showed that his whole Indian’s nature was -in a blaze; but it was only momentary, for in another, the expression -vanished from his countenance, the habitual melancholy resumed its place -upon his features, and the words fell slowly, almost musically, from his -lips:—“The fire water—the fire water—ay, the same—the Indian and his -deadly enemy.” Then looking steadily at Pamanack, as he held the bottle -still towards him:—“Pequot will not drink. Why should Pamanack swallow -the white man’s poison, and with his own hands dig his grave? - -“Pamanack is not alone! His squaw watches at the door of his wigwam, -as she looks out upon the long waves of the ocean tumbling in upon the -shores of Montaukett. His young men gather about him and catch the -tautug from its huge beetling rocks, and tread out the quahog from -its muddy bed. His old men still linger on the sandy beach, and their -scalp-locks float wildly in the fresh sea-breeze. Pamanack has yet a -home:—but Pequot—he is the last of his race. He stands on the high hills -of Tashaway, and he sees no smoke but that from the wigwams of the Long -Knives. He moves in silence along the plains of Pequonnuck,—but the -fences of the pale faces obstruct his progress. His canoe dances at the -side of the dripping rocks,—but the cheating white men paddle up to his -side. His feet sink in the ploughed field,—but it is not the corn of the -red man. His squaw has rolled her last log, and lies cold in her blanket. -His young men,—the fire water and fire dust have consumed them. Pequot -looks around for his people—where are they? The black snake and muskrat -shoot through the water as his moccasin treads the swamp, where their -bones lie, deep covered from the hate of their enemies. Pequot is the -last of his race! Pamanack is good, but the heart of Pequot is heavy. -He cannot drink the fire water, for his young men have sunk from its -deadly poison, as the mist-wreath in the midday sun. The good Moravians -have told him that it is bad—and Pequot will drink no more—for his race -is nearly run. Pequot will sit on the high rocks of Sasco, and his robe -shall fall from his shoulders as his broad chest waits the death-arrow -of the Great Spirit. There will he sit and smoke in silence as he looks -down upon the deserted hunting-grounds of his fathers. Pequot’s heart is -heavy,—Pequot will not drink.” As he finished the last words, he abruptly -turned, and was soon far distant on the sands, moving towards the high -hill of which he had spoken. The Great Spirit was kind to him, for a few -years after he was found stark and stiff, frozen to death on the very -rocks to which he had alluded. As for old Pamanack, he did not appear to -hold the fire water in such utter abhorrence; for, taking a long swig at -the bottle, his eye following the retiring form of the Pequot, he slowly -muttered, “Nigger drink—white man drink—why no Indian drink too?” - -But the Sound! the Sound! Oh! how many delightful reminiscences does the -name bring to my recollection. The Sound! with its white sand banks, -and its wooded shores—its far broad bosom, covered with fleets of sails -scudding along in the swift breeze in the open day, and its dark waves -rolling and sweeping in whole streams of phosphorescent fire from their -plunging bows as they dash through it in the darkness of midnight. -The Sound! redolent with military story. The Sound! overflowing with -supernatural legend and antiquated history. Oh! reader, if you had been -cruising along its shores from infancy, as I have, if you had grown up -among its legends, and luxuriated in its wild associations,—if you had -spent whole days on its broad sand beaches, watching the gulls as they -sailed above you, or the snipe as they ran along on the smooth hard -flats,—if you had lain on the white frozen snows on its shore in the -still nights of mid-winter, your gun by your side, gazing till your soul -was lost in the blue spangled vault, as it hung in serene and tranquil -grandeur above you, your mind, in unconscious adoration, breathing whole -volumes of gratitude and admiration to the great God that gave you -faculties to enjoy its sublimity; and in the stillness, unbroken save by -the cry of the loon as he raised himself from the smooth water, seen in -every sail moving in silence between you and the horizon the “Phantom -Ship,” or some daring bucaneer, and in every distant splash heard a deed -of darkness and mystery, then could you enter into my feelings. - -Oh! to me its black rocks and promontories, and islands, are as familiar -as the faces of a family. Are there not the “Brothers,” unnatural that -they are, who, living centuries together, never to one another have -as yet spoken a kindly word,—and the great savage “Executioners,” and -“Throgs,” and “Sands,” and “Etons,” all throwing hospitable lights from -their high beacon towers, far forward, to guide the wandering mariner; -and the “Devil’s Stepping-stones,” o’er which he bounded when driven -from Connecticut; and the great rocks too, inside of Flushing bay on -which he descended, shivering them from top to bottom as he fell. And -are there not the “Norwalk Islands,” with their pines—“Old Sasco,” -with her rocks,—“Fairweather,” with the wild bird’s eggs deep buried -in her sands,—and the far-famed fishing-banks off the “Middle ground.” -Ay! and is it not from the fierce boiling whirlpools of the “Gate” “to -Gardiners,” and the lone beacon tower of “Old Montaukett,” one continuous -ground of thrilling lore and bold adventure. In her waters the “Fire -ship” glared amid the darkness, her phantom crew, like red hot statues, -standing at their quarters, as rushing onwards, in the furious storm, -she passed the shuddering mariner, leaving, comet like, long streams of -flame behind. Beneath her sands the red-shirted bucaneers did hide their -ill-gotten, blood-bespotted treasure. Ay! and ’twas on her broad bosom -that, with iron-seared conscience sailed that pirate, fierce and bold, -old Robert Kidd; and to this very day his golden hoards, with magic mark -and sign, still crowd her wooded shores. - -Hah! ha! how, were he waking, old Scipio’s eyes would upward roll -their whites, if he did but hear that name so dread and grim. If, from -very eagerness, he could utter forth his words, he would give whole -chapters—ay—one from his own family history—for Kidd’s men caught old -Cudjoe, his great ancestor, clamming on the beach off Sasco, and without -more ado carried him aboard. As the old negro was sulky, they tumbled -his well-filled basket into the galley’s tank, and incontinently were -about to run him up to dangle at their long yard-arm, when Kidd, who -was taking his morning “drink of tobacco” on his poop, roared out, -in voice of thunder, “Ho! Scroggs—boatswain—dost hang a black-a-moor -at my yard-arm, where so many gentlemen have danced on nothing?—In -the foul devil’s name, scuttle the goggled-eyed fiend to the sharks -overboard,”—and overboard he went, but diving like a duck, he escaped -their firelocks’ quick discharge, and reached the shore in safety. - -Ay! and his deep buried treasures! Where went the gold dust from the -coast of Guinea?—the gems from Madagascar?—where the dollars and -doubloons pirated from the Spanish galleons?—the broken plate and -crucifixes from the shores of Panama?—and where the good yellow gold, -stamped with the visage of his most gracious majesty?—where! where, but -on the haunted borders of this very Sound. Why, the very school-boys, -playing in the woods upon its shores, know when the earth doth hollow -sound beneath their feet, that Kidd’s treasure’s buried there. Do they -disturb it? No—not they—they know too well the fierce and restless spirit -that guards the iron pot. Didst ever hear the brave old ballad—“_As -he sail’d, as he sail’d?_” It’s a glorious old ballad—it’s a true old -ballad—and a time-honoured old ballad—it gives his veritable history. It -has been printed in black letter, and sung time out of mind. It has been -chanted by the old tars in sultry calms of the tropics, and the greasy -whalers have kept time to it over their trying kettles on the smooth -Pacific. It has been sung amid the icebergs of Greenland, and heard on -the coast of New Holland; the spicy breezes of Ceylon have borne it among -the sleeping tigers in their jungles, and the Hottentots have pulled -tighter their breech-cloths as they have listened to its tones. The -Chinese, and the Turks, and the Dutchmen, and the Danes, and every thing -human within the smell of salt water, have heard it,—ay! and that too in -the rich manly tones of the English and American sailors. Ho! Scip!—wake -from out thy corner, and give us the old ballad. Shades of red-capped -bucaneers!—fierce negro slavers!—spirits of the gallant men who fought -the British on her shores!—desperate old Kidd in person!—we conjure -you—we conjure you—arise and hover around us, whilst we chaunt the lay. -Ho! Scipio!—the old ballad, as it stood smoke-blacked, and grimed upon -thy cabin’s walls—ay! that is it—and in tones which chimed well in unison -with the dreary storm and howling blast without. - - -“YE LAMENTABLE BALLAD, AND YE TRUE HISTORIE OF CAPTAINE ROBERT KIDD, WHO -WAS HANGED IN CHAINS AT EXECUTION DOCK, FOR PIRACY AND MURDER ON YE HIGH -SEAS.” - -[Sidenote: He calleth upon the captains:] - - You captains bold and brave, hear our cries, hear our cries, - You captains bold and brave, hear our cries, - You captains brave and bold, tho’ you seem uncontroll’d, - Don’t for the sake of gold lose your souls, lose your souls, - Don’t for the sake of gold lose your souls. - -[Sidenote: He stateth his name and acknowledgeth his wickedness:] - - My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail’d, when I sail’d, - My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail’d, - My name was Robert Kidd, God’s laws I did forbid, - And so wickedly I did, when I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He beareth witness to the good counsel of his parents:] - - My parents taught me well, when I sail’d, when I sail’d, - My parents taught me well, when I sail’d, - My parents taught me well to shun the gates of hell, - But against them I rebell’d when I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He curseth his father and his mother dear:] - - I cursed my father dear, when I sail’d, when I sail’d, - I cursed my father dear, when I sail’d, - I cursed my father dear and her that did me bear, - And so wickedly did swear, when I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: And blasphemeth against God:] - - I made a solemn vow when I sail’d, when I sail’d, - I made a solemn vow when I sail’d, - I made a solemn vow, to God I would not bow, - Nor myself one prayer allow, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He burieth the Good Book in sand:] - - I’d a Bible in my hand when I sail’d, when I sail’d, - I’d a Bible in my hand when I sail’d, - I’d a Bible in my hand by my father’s great command, - And I sunk it in the sand, when I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: And murdereth William Moore:] - - I murdered William Moore, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I murdered William Moore, as I sail’d, - I murdered William Moore, and left him in his gore, - Not many leagues from shore as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: And also cruelly killeth the gunner.] - - And being cruel still, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - And being cruel still, as I sail’d, - And being cruel still, my gunner I did kill, - And his precious blood did spill, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: His mate, being about to die, repenteth and warneth him in his -career.] - - My mate was sick and died as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - My mate was sick and died as I sail’d, - My mate was sick and died, which me much terrified, - When he called me to his bedside as I sail’d. - - And unto me he did say, see me die, see me die, - And unto me did say see me die, - And unto me did say, take warning now by me, - There comes a reckoning day, you must die. - - You cannot then withstand, when you die, when you die, - You cannot then withstand when you die, - You cannot then withstand the judgments of God’s hand, - But bound then in iron bands, you must die. - -[Sidenote: He falleth sick, and promiseth repentance, but forgetteth his -vows.] - - I was sick and nigh to death, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I was sick and nigh to death as I sail’d, - And I was sick and nigh to death, and I vowed at every breath - To walk in wisdom’s ways as I sail’d. - - I thought I was undone as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I thought I was undone as I sail’d, - I thought I was undone and my wicked glass had run, - But health did soon return as I sail’d. - - My repentance lasted not, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - My repentance lasted not, as I sail’d, - My repentance lasted not, my vows I soon forgot, - Damnation’s my just lot, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He steereth thro’ _Long Island_ and other Sounds.] - - I steer’d from Sound to Sound, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I steer’d from Sound to Sound, as I sail’d, - I steer’d from Sound to Sound, and many ships I found - And most of them I burn’d as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He chaseth three ships of France.] - - I spy’d three ships from France, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I spy’d three ships from France, as I sail’d, - I spy’d three ships from France, to them I did advance, - And took them all by chance, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: And also three ships of Spain.] - - I spy’d three ships of Spain, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I spy’d three ships of Spain as I sail’d, - I spy’d three ships of Spain, I fired on them amain, - Till most of them were slain, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He boasteth of his treasure.] - - I’d ninety bars of gold, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I’d ninety bars of gold, as I sail’d, - I’d ninety bars of gold, and dollars manifold, - With riches uncontroll’d, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He spyeth fourteen ships in pursuit, and surrendereth.] - - Then fourteen ships I saw, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - Then fourteen ships I saw as I sail’d, - Then fourteen ships I saw and brave men they are, - Ah! they were too much for me as I sail’d. - - - Thus being o’ertaken at last, I must die, I must die, - Thus being o’ertaken at last, I must die, - Thus being o’ertaken at last, and into prison cast, - And sentence being pass’d, I must die. - -[Sidenote: He biddeth farewell to the seas, and the raging main.] - - Farewell the raging sea, I must die, I must die, - Farewell the raging main, I must die, - Farewell the raging main, to Turkey, France, and Spain, - I ne’er shall see you again, I must die. - -[Sidenote: He exhorteth the young and old to take counsel from his fate:] - - To Newgate now I’m cast, and must die, and must die, - To Newgate now I’m cast, and must die, - To Newgate I am cast, with a sad and heavy heart, - To receive my just desert, I must die. - - To Execution Dock I must go, I must go, - To Execution Dock I must go, - To Execution Dock will many thousands flock, - But I must bear the shock, I must die. - - Come all you young and old, see me die, see me die, - Come all young and old, see me die, - Come all you young and old, you’re welcome to my gold, - For by it I’ve lost my soul, and must die. - -[Sidenote: And declareth that he must go to hell, and be punished for his -wickedness.] - - Take warning now by me, for I must die, for I must die, - Take warning now by me, for I must die, - Take warning now by me, and shun bad company, - Lest you come to hell with me, for I must die, - Lest you come to hell with me, for I must die. - - - - -GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY. - - [To the untiring exertions of Major D. B. Douglass, Messrs. - Joseph A. Perry, Henry E. Pierrepont, Gerrit G. Van Wagenen, - and a few other liberal minded gentlemen, the public are - indebted for the design and completion of this beautiful place - of repose for the dead. It is anticipated that ten miles of - avenue will be completed during the coming summer, and when the - whole is laid out, according to the proposed plan, that there - will be fifteen miles of picturesque road within its precincts. - Part of the battle of Long Island in the Revolution was fought - upon its grounds, and it is intended at no distant day, to - remove the remains of those that perished in the Prison Ships - to the Cemetery, where they will sleep undisturbed beneath an - appropriate monument. The views from Mount Washington, and - other eminences, within its precincts, embrace the entire - bay and harbour of New-York, with their islands and forts: - the cities of New-York and Brooklyn; the shores of the North - and East Rivers; New-Jersey, Staten Island, the Quarantine; - unnumbered towns and villages sprinkled over the wide expanse - of the surrounding country, and the margin of the broad - Atlantic, from Sandy Hook, to a distance far beyond the - Rockaway Pavilion. The fine old forest which covers the greater - part of the grounds, shrouding and almost concealing from - sight, several beautiful lakes and sheets of water suggested - the name, with which it has been consecrated, the Green-Wood - Cemetery.] - - -WHERE, THEN, IS DEATH!—and my own voice startled me from my reverie -as, leaning on my saddle-bow on the summit of Mount Washington in the -Greenwood Cemetery, I asked—_Where, then, is death!_ The golden sun of a -delicious summer’s afternoon was streaming o’er the undulating hills of -Staten Island lighting more brilliantly the snow-white villas and emerald -lawns:—the Lazaretto—its fleet gay with the flags of all the nations, was -nestling like a fairy city at its feet:—the noble bay before me was one -great polished mirror—motionless vessels with white sails and drooping -pennants, resting on its surface, like souls upon the ocean of Eternity, -and every thing around was bright and still and beautiful as I asked -myself the question—_Where, then, is death!_ - -The islands with their military works lay calm and motionless upon -the waters—the grim artillery, like sleeping tigers crouched upon the -ramparts and the castle’s walls—but the glistening of the sentry’s -polished musket, and the sudden clamorous roll of drums showed me, -that—_not there was death_. - -I turned.—The great fierce city extending as far as eye could reach—the -sky fretted with her turrets and her spires—her thousand smokes rising -and mingling with the o’erhanging-clouds;—as she rose above her bed of -waters, with hoarse continuous roar, cried to me—“_Look not here, not -here—for death!_” Her sister city, with her towers and cupolas—her grassy -esplanades surmounted with verdant trees and far extending colonnades -embowered in shrubbery,—from her high terraced walls, re-echoed the -hollow roar—“_Not here for death!_” - -The island lay extended far before me—its farms and towns—its modest -spires—its granaries—its verdant meadows—its rich cultivated fields—its -woods—its lawns—all wrapped in silence, but still its whisper softly -reached me—“_Not here—not here—is death!_”—E’en the great distant -ocean, closed only from my view by the far-reaching horizon, in sullen -continuous murmurs moaned—“_Not here is death!_” - -Where, then, I cried—_where, then, is death?_ I looked above me, and the -blue vault hung pure and motionless—light fleecy clouds like angels on -their journeys, alone resting on its cerulean tint,—around, the evening -breeze played calm and gently,—and beneath the flowers and leaves were -quivering with delight, while the incessant hum of insect life, arising -from the earth with ceaseless voice, still cried—“_No—no—not here is -death!_” - -Ah! said I, this beautiful world shall be forever, and there is—there -is no death—but even as I spoke, a warning voice struck with deep -solemnity upon my startled ear,—“Man that is born of woman, hath but a -short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down -like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in -one stay.”—And as I turned, the funeral procession—its minister and its -mourners passed onward in their journey with the silent dead. - -I looked after the retiring group, and again from beyond the coppice -which intervened, heard rising in the same deep solemn tones,—“Write, -from henceforth, blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; even so saith -the spirit, for they rest from their labours,”—and my soul cowered within -itself like a guilty thing, as it said—Amen. - -I looked again upon the scene before me and sighed,—e’en such is human -reason. That gorgeous sun shall set—the gay villas and verdant lawns,—the -crowded shipping,—the beautiful bay with all that rest upon its bosom, -shall soon be wrapt in darkness,—the gleaming watch-light disappear from -yon tall battlement, as the bugle sounds its warning note,—the great -fierce city be stilled in silence, while the beating hearts within her -midnight shroud, like seconds, answer her tolling bells upon the dial of -eternity,—and the insect myriads—the flowers and leaves—ay!—the great -heavens themselves, shall from the darkness cry—“_This is the portraiture -of death!_”—for the darkness and the silence are all that man can realize -of death. - -The hardy Northman with trembling finger points to the mouldering frame -work of humanity, and shudders as he cries—“_Lo! there is death!_”—and -the polished Greek smiles delightedly on the faultless statue of -the lovely woman with the infant sleeping on her breast, as he also -cries—“_Lo! there is death!_”—yet both alike with reverence do lay their -final offering before his gloomy shrine.—The squalid Esquimaux scoops -out the cavern in the never melting snows, for the frozen form whose -conflicts with the grizzly bear and shuddering cold are done—and the -mild Hindoo, with affection, feeds the funeral pyre, and as the fragrant -column does arise, cries—“Soul of my brother—immortal soul, ascend!”—The -red man, in the far distant prairie’s lonely wilds, pillows the head of -the warrior-chief upon his slain desert steed within its mound, while the -bronzed pioneer, throwing aside his axe and rifle, hastily dashes away -the tear as he inhumes beneath its flowery bed his scar-marked comrade’s -form. - -The secluded village hamlet, with pious care, within the quiet grove, -encloses a resting-place for its silent few, disappearing at long -intervals;—and here those great living cities have chosen this silent -city for their dead, falling like the forest leaves in autumn. - -For the great army, who must ere long, march forth to ground their arms -before the grim and ghastly Conqueror, ’twere difficult to find more -beautiful and lovely resting place. E’en the sad mourner lingers as -he beholds its broad and lovely lawns, stretched out in calm serenity -before him;—its sylvan waters in their glassy stillness; its antique -elms, arching with extended branches the long secluded lanes; its deep -romantic glens; its rolling mounds, and all its varied scenery, ere with -a softened sadness he turns him to his desolate and melancholy home. Oh! -spirits of our departed ones! We know that you have gone forth from your -human habitations, and that we shall behold your loved forms no more -forever. Oh! therefore will we lay your deserted temples within this -consecrated ground, and, in imagination, fondly see you sleeping still in -tranquillity beneath its green and silent sward. - -But lo! where upon the broad and verdant lawn, the loose clods and dark -black mould heaped carelessly aside, the narrow pit awaits, ere it -close again from light, its tenant in his dark and narrow house. The -sorrowing group collect around, and the pall slowly drawn aside, one -moment more exhibits to the loved ones, the pallid countenance of him -about to be hidden from their sight forever. The weeping widow, in her -dark habiliments, leans upon the arm of the stern, sad brother, her -little ones clinging to her raiment in mingled awe and admiration of -the scene before them. “Ashes to ashes”—how she writhes in anguish, as -the heavy clods fall with hollow unpitying jar upon the coffin lid—how -like a lifeless thing she hangs upon the supporting arm in which her -countenance is buried in agony unutterable; and see the little ones, -their faces streaming with wondering tears, clasping her hands; how in -happy ignorance, they innocently, with fond endearing names, still call -upon him to arise. - -But the narrow grave is filled—the mourning group have gone—the -evening shadows fall—the declining sun sinks beneath his gorgeous -bed in the horizon, and in the thickening twilight, the dead lies in -his mound—alone. The night advances—the stars arise, and the joyous -constellations roll high onward in their majestic journeys in the -o’erhanging heavens—but beneath—the tenant of the fresh filled grave, -lies motionless and still. The morning sun appears, the dew, like -diamonds, glitters on every leaf and blade of grass—the birds joyously -carol, and the merry lark, upon the very mound itself, sends forth his -cheerful note—but all is hushed, in silence, to the tenant who in his -unbroken slumber sleeps within. The Autumn comes, and the falling leaves -whirl withered from the tree tops, and rustle in the wind—the Winter, -and the smooth broad plain lies covered with its pure and spotless cloak -of driven snow, and the lowly mound is hid from sight, and shows not, in -the broad midday sun, nor e’en at midnight, when the silver moon sailing -onwards in her chaste journey turns the icicles into glittering gems, -on the o’erhanging branches as they bend protectingly towards it. The -Spring breathes warmly, and the little mound lies green again—and now -the mother bending o’er it, lifts the rose and twines the myrtle, while -the little ones in joyous glee from the surrounding meadows, bring the -wild flowers and scatter them in unison upon its borders. Oh! then!—were -consciousness within—then would the glad tenant smile. - -But let him, whose tears as yet fall not for any dear one beneath its -sod, ascend again with me the Mount, and with retrospective gaze behold -the living drama, which has passed before it. The great world around—the -stage—lies still the same; but the actors, all—all have passed onwards to -their final rest. Into the still gleaming past bend your attentive gaze. -Lo, the features of the scenery are still the same—the bay’s unruffled -bosom, and the islands; but no sail now floats upon its surface, no -gilded spires in the distance loom, nor does the busy hum of man reach -us, as listening we stand—nought we see but the far forest covering -the main and islands, even to the waters. The coward wolf howls in yon -distant glen—the partridge drums upon the tree tops—and the graceful deer -e’en at our sides browses in conscious safety. Yon light dot moving upon -the water?—’tis the painted Indian paddling his canoe. Yon smoke curling -on the shore beneath us?—it is the Indian’s wigwam—The joyous laugh -arising among the trees? It is his squaw and black-eyed children—the -Indian reigns the lord—reigns free and uncontrolled. - -But look again upon the waters floats a huge and clumsy galliot—its -gay and gaudy streamers flaunting in the breeze; how the poor savages -congregated on yonder point, gaze in wonder as it passes—’tis the Great -Spirit, and the quaint figure with the plumed hat, and scarlet hose -glistening with countless buttons, on its poop—some demi-god!—and as she -onward moves, behold the weather-worn seamen’s faces in her rigging, how -anxiously they return the gaze.—The forest children muster courage—they -follow in their light canoes.—The galliot nears the Manahattoes—they -ascend her sides—hawks, bells and rings, and beads, and the hot strong -drink are theirs;—their land—it is the white man’s.—See with what -confidence he ensconces himself upon the island’s borders—in his grasp, -he has the fish—the furs—the game—the poor confiding Indian gives him -all—and—behold the embryo city’s fixed! - -But see!—Is that the Dutch boor’s cabin at our feet?—Is that the -Indian seated on the threshold, while the Dutchman lolls lazily -within!—Where—where then is the Indian’s wigwam?—gone! - -Look up again—a stately fleet moves o’er the bay, in line of battle -drawn; the military music loudly sounds—dark cannon frown from within -the gaping ports, and crews with lighted matches stand prepared—they -near the Manahattoes, and—and—the Orange flag descends—the Dragon and -St. George floats from the flag-staff o’er the little town. Who is the -fair-haired man that drinks with the Dutchman at his cottage door, while -the poor Indian stands submissively aside?—“It is the Briton.”—I hear -the laugh of youth—sure ’tis the Indian’s black eyed brood?—“’Tis the -Englishman’s yellow haired, blue eyed children.”—Alas! alas! poor forest -wanderer—nor squaw—nor child—nor wigwam, shall here be more for thee. -Farewell—farewell. - -The little town swells to a goodly city—the forests fall around—the -farms stretch out their borders—wains creak and groan with harvest -wealth—lordly shipping floats on the rivers—the fair haired race -increase—roads mark the country—and the deer and game, scared, fly the -haunts of men.—Hah!—the same flag floats not at the Manahattoes!—now, -’tis Stars and Stripes—See!—crowding across the river men in dark -masses—cannon—muniments of war—in boats—on rafts—in desperate haste. -Trenches and ramparts creep like serpents on the earth—horsemen scour the -country—divisions—regiments—take position, and stalwart yeomen hurrying -forward, join in the ranks of Liberty!—Hear! hear the wild confusion—the -jar of wheels—the harsh shrill shriek of trumpets and the incessant roll -of drums—the rattling musketry—the sudden blaze and boom of cannon—it -is the roar of battle—it is the battle field!—Hear! hear the distant -cry—“St. George and merry England.”—“Our Country and Liberty.”—Ah! o’er -this very ground, the conflict passes—See! the vengeful Briton prostrate -falls beneath the deadly rifle—while the yeomen masses fade beneath the -howling cannon shot—and hark! how from amid the sulphurous cloud the -wild “hurrah” drowns e’en the dread artillery. - -The smoke clouds lazily creep from off the surface—the battle’s o’er and -the red-cross banner floats again upon the island of Manahattoes.—And now -again—the Stripes and Stars stream gently in the breeze. - -The past is gone—the future stands before us. Ay! here upon this very -spot, once rife with death, yonder cities shall lay their slain for -centuries to come—their slain, falling in the awful contest with the -stern warrior, against whom human strength is nought, and human conflict -vain. Years shall sweep on in steady tide, and these broad fields be -whitened with countless sepulchres—the mounds, covered with graves where -affection still shall plant the flower and trail the vine—in the deep -valleys, and romantic glens to receive their ne’er returning tenants; the -sculptured vaults still shall roll ope their marble fronts—beneath the -massive pyramid’s firm-fixed base, the Martyrs of the Prisons find their -final resting-place—and on this spot the stately column shooting high in -air, to future generations tell, the bloody story of yon battle-field. - -All here shall rest;—the old man—his silver hairs in quiet, and the -wailing babe in sweet repose—the strong from fierce conflict with fiery -disease, and bowing submissively, the poor pallid invalid—the old—the -young—the strong—the beautiful—all—here shall rest in deep and motionless -repose. - -Oh! Being!—Infinite and Glorious—UNSEEN—shrouded from our vision in -the vast and awful mists of immeasurable Eternity—CREATOR—throned in -splendour inconceivable, mid millions and countless myriads of worlds, -which still rushing into being at thy thought, course their majestic -circles, chiming in obedient grandeur glorious hymns of praise—God -of Wisdom,—thou that hast caused the ethereal spark to momentarily -light frail tenements of clay,—grant, that in the terrors of the awful -Judgment, they may meet the splendours of the opening heavens with -steadfast gaze, and relying on the Redeemer’s mediation, in boundless -ecstacy, still cry—WHERE—WHERE THEN IS DEATH! - -[Illustration] - - - - -APPENDIX. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - Note to the RESURRECTIONISTS.—Ghost in the Grave Yard. - - ” ” OLD KENNEDY, No. I.—Lieutenant Somers. - - ” ” OLD KENNEDY, No. III.—“The Parting Blessing.” - - ” ” OLD KENNEDY, No. IV.—Explosion at Craney Island. - - ” ” HUDSON RIVER.—Military Academy at West-Point. - - ” ” NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE.—⎧ The Dying Soldier. - ⎩ The Officer’s Sabre. - - ⎧ Detailed Statement of the Battle. - ⎪ Rainbow of the Cataract. - ⎪ The Day after the Battle. - ” ” LUNDY’S LANE.—⎨ The two Sergeants. - ⎪ Death of Captain Hull. - ⎪ Scott’s Brigade. - ⎩ Death of Captain Spencer. - - ” ” MONTREAL.—Military Insignia. - - ” ” LAKE GEORGE.—Attack on Fort Ticonderoga. - - ” ” BASS FISHING.—⎧ Crew of the Essex frigate. - ⎩ Mutiny on board the Essex. - - ” ” LONG ISLAND SOUND.—New-England Traditions. - - - - -APPENDIX. - - -_Note to the Resurrectionists._—GHOST IN THE GRAVE YARD.—In New-England, -most of the burying-grounds as they are called, are at some distance -from the villages, and generally neglected and rude in their appearance, -frequently overgrown with wild, dank weeds, and surrounded by rough -stone walls.—Dr. W., a physician, whose extensive practice gave him a -large circuit of country to ride over, relates that returning late one -night from visiting a patient who was dangerously ill, his attention was -attracted by a human figure clad in white, perched upon the top of the -stone wall of one of these rustic cemeteries.—The moon was shining cold -and clear, and he drew up his horse for a moment, and gazed steadily at -the object, supposing that he was labouring under an optical illusion, -but it remained immoveable and he was convinced, however singular the -position and the hour, that his eyesight had not deceived him. Being -a man of strong nerves, he determined to examine it, whether human or -supernatural, more closely, and leaping his horse up the bank of the road -he proceeded along the side of the fence towards the object. It remained -perfectly motionless until he came opposite and within a few feet, when -it vanished from the fence, and in another instant, with a piercing -shriek, was clinging round his neck upon the horse.—This was too much, -for even the Doctor’s philosophy, and relieving himself with a violent -exertion from the grasp, he flung the figure from him, and putting -spurs to his horse galloped into the village at full speed, a torrent -of ghostly lore and diablerie pouring through his mind as he dashed -along. Arousing the occupants of the nearest house, they returned to the -scene of the adventure, where they found the object of his terror,—a -poor female maniac who had escaped from confinement in a neighbouring -alms-house, wandering among the tombs. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Old Kennedy, No. I._—CAPT. SOMERS.[3]—The name of Somers, the -twin brother in arms of Decatur, shines brightly on the History of -American Naval Warfare; and the last desperate action which terminated -his short and brilliant career with his life, is stamped in colours so -indelible, that nothing but the destroying finger of Time can efface it -from its pages. After severe and continued fighting before Tripoli, the -Turkish flotilla withdrew within the mole, and could not be induced to -venture themselves beyond the guns of the Tripolitan Battery. The ketch -Intrepid was fitted out as a fire-ship, filled to the decks with barrels -of gunpowder, shells, pitch, and other combustible materials; and Capt. -Somers, with a volunteer crew, undertook the hazardous, almost desperate, -task, of navigating her, in the darkness of night, into the middle of the -Turkish flotilla, when the train was to be fired, and they were to make -their escape, as they best could in her boats. - -Lieutenants Wadsworth and Israel were the only officers allowed to join -expedition, which was comprised of a small crew of picked men. The -Intrepid was escorted as far as was prudent by three vessels of the -squadron, who hove to, to avoid suspicion, and to be ready to pick up the -boats upon their return: the Constitution, under easy sail in the offing. - -Many a brave heart could almost hear its own pulsations in those vessels, -as she became more and more indistinct, and gradually disappeared in the -distance. They watched for some time with intense anxiety, when a heavy -cannonade was opened from the Turkish batteries, which, by its flashes, -discovered the ketch determinedly progressing on her deadly errand. She -was slowly and surely making for the entrance of the mole, when the whole -atmosphere suddenly blazed as if into open day; the mast with all its -sails shot high up in the air; shells whizzed, rocket like, exploding in -every direction; a deafening roar followed and all sunk again into the -deepest pitchy darkness. The Americans waited—waited—in anxious—at last -sickening suspense. Their companions came not—the hours rolled on—no boat -hailed—no oar splashed in the surrounding darkness. The East grew grey -with the dawn—the sun shone brightly above the horizon, nought but a few -shattered vessels lying near the shore—the flotilla—the batteries—and -the minarets of Tripoli, gilded by the morning sunbeams, met their gaze. -Those noble spirits had written their history. Whether consigned to -eternity by a shot of the enemy, prematurely exploding the magazine, -or from the firing of the train by their own hands, must always remain -untold and unknown. - -[3] The U. S. Brig Somers, in which the late daring mutiny was suppressed -by the prompt and decided measures of Lt. Alexander Slidell McKenzie, was -named after this hero of the Tripolitan war. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Old Kennedy. No. III._—“THE PARTING BLESSING.”—An officer of -the Lawrence engaged in this desperate action informed the writer, that -he observed, in the latter part of the battle, the captain of one of the -guns, who was a perfect sailor, and remarkable for his neatness and fine -personal appearance, ineffectually endeavouring to work his gun himself, -after all its crew had fallen. He was badly wounded by a grape shot in -the leg; and although in that situation, he was supporting himself on -the other, while he struggled at the tackle to bring the piece to bear. -The officer told him that he had better leave the gun, and join one of -the others, or, as he was badly wounded, go below. “No—no, sir,”—said -the brave tar,—“I’ve loaded her, and if I’ve got to go below, it shan’t -be before _I give ’em a parting blessing_!” The officer then himself -assisted him in running the gun out of the port. The sailor, taking a -good and deliberate aim, discharged her into the British ship, and then -dragged himself down to the cockpit, fully satisfied with the parting -compliment that he had paid the enemy. General Jackson, during his -administration, granted the man a pension. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Old Kennedy. No. IV._—EXPLOSION AT CRANEY ISLAND.—One of the -oldest of the surgeons now in the navy, who was present when the British -were defeated in their attempt to cut out the Constellation at Craney’s -Island, in Hampton Roads, in the last war, relates the following anecdote. - -The fire of the Americans was so heavy, that the British flotilla was -soon obliged to retire, a number of their boats having been disabled -by the cannon shot—one, in particular, having been cut in two, sunk, -leaving the men struggling in the water for their lives. It was thought -that it contained an officer of rank, as the other boats hurried to her -assistance, and evinced much agitation until the individual alluded to -was saved. But to let the doctor tell his own story:— - -“Well, they retreated, and we made prisoners of those whose boats having -been cut up, were struggling in the water. Among others, there was a fine -looking fellow, a petty officer, who had been wounded by the same shot -that had sunk the boat; so I got him up to the hospital-tent, and cut off -his leg above the knee, and having made him comfortable, (!) walked out -upon the beach, with my assistant for a stroll. We had not gone far, when -we were both thrown upon our backs by a violent shock which momentarily -stunned us. On recovering ourselves, we observed the air filled with -cotton descending like feathers. We did not know how to account for the -phenomenon, till, advancing some distance farther, we found a soldier -lying apparently dead, with his musket by his side. I stooped down, and -found that the man was wounded in the head, a splinter having lodged -just over the temple. As I drew out the splinter, he raised himself, and -stared stupidly about him. I asked him what he was doing there?—“I’m -standing ground over the tent, sir,” he replied. What tent?—“Why sir, -the tent that had the gunpowder in it.” How came it to blow up—what set -it on fire?—“I don’t know, sir.” Did nobody come along this way?—“Yes, -sir; a man came along with a cigar in his mouth, and asked if he might -go in out of the sun; I told him, yes!—and he went in, and sat himself -down—and that is the last that I recollect, until I found you standing -over me here.” Upon going a few hundred feet farther, we found a part, -and still farther on, the remainder of the body of the unfortunate man, -who ignorantly had been the cause of the explosion, as well as his own -death. He was so completely blackened and burnt that it would have been -impossible, from his colour, to have distinguished him from a negro.” - - * * * * * - -_Note to Hudson River._—MILITARY ACADEMY AT WEST-POINT.—West-Point, -with her majestic scenery—her savage mountains—the river winding at -their feet—her military ruins rising among the forest-trees—her fine -architectural edifices—her flag proudly floating from its staff against -the back-ground of pure blue ether—her bright and elastic youth, in all -“the pomp and circumstance of war”—now marching on the broad and verdant -plain, in glittering battalion—now as cavalry, spurring their snorting -horses in close squadron—now with light artillery hidden in the smoke -of their rapid evolutions—now calculating amid the bray of mortars, the -curving course of bombs—measuring the ricochetting shot bounding from -the howitzers—amid the roar of heavy cannon, watching the balls as they -shiver the distant targets.—West-Point, enveloped in its spicy mountain -breezes—West-Point—its romantic walks—its melodious birds, warbling in -ecstacy among its trees—its heroic monuments—its revolutionary relics—its -associations, past and present—is, to the tourist, poetry—but to the -cadet—sober, sober prose. Incessant study—severe drilling—arduous -examinations—alike amid the sultry heats of summer, and intense cold of -winter, mark the four years of his stay, with a continual round of labour -and application:—application so severe that health frequently gives way -under the trial. None but the most robust and hardy in constitution, can -sustain the fatigue and labour. But few, nursed in the lap of wealth, are -willing to undergo its hardships; yet, though the far greater part of -the number are from what are called the hardy, certainly not the opulent -part of the community; under the cry of aristocracy, the Academy is made -a standing mark for the attacks of the radicals in the Federal and State -legislatures. Of all the places of public instruction in the country—in a -national point of view—it is the most important; for while it furnishes -to the army a corps of officers acknowledgedly unsurpassed in military -and scientific attainments by that of any service in Europe—officers, -whose names are synonymous with modesty and honour, it is of incalculable -importance in furnishing to the country, commanders and instructors -for the militia in time of war, and engineers for the constant plans -of public improvement in peace. West-Point proudly boasts that not one -of her sons has ever disgraced himself, or his country, in the face of -the enemy. She can, with equal pride, point to almost every work of -importance in the country, and say, “There too, is their handywork.” -While the noble works of defence on the frontiers and sea-board bear -testimony to the talent and science of Totten, Thayer, and other -gentlemen of the corps of engineers, the railroads, aqueducts and canals -of the States bear equal witness to the energies of Douglass, McNeill, -Whistler, and other officers, who have entered the walks of private life. - -Well would it be in this disorganizing age, if, instead of prostrating -this, every State had within her borders a similar institution as a -nucleus of order, discipline, and obedience. The following extract of -a letter from an officer who stands high in the service, may not be -uninteresting to the reader. - - February 16, 1843. - - “I send you herewith a part of the information which you - required in your last letter. The Military Academy is a great - honour to the country, and is so understood abroad. I have - frequently heard foreign officers express their opinion, - that it was equal to any institution in Europe, and I was - particularly gratified when I was abroad, to find the English - officers so jealous of it. They seemed to understand very - distinctly, that, although the policy of the country prevented - our sustaining a standing army, that we had yet kept up with - the age in military science; and stood ready prepared with a - body of officers, well educated in scientific knowledge, to - supply a large army for efficient and vigorous operations. - - “The whole number of graduates at the Academy since its - foundation, is 1167. Of this number there have died in service, - 168. There have been killed in battle, 24. Of those wounded in - service, there is no record. The number of those who have died - since 1837, is 1 major, 17 captains, 21 first lieutenants, and - 9 second lieutenants. - - “The rank of those killed since 1837, was 1 lieutenant-colonel, - 2 captains, 3 first lieutenants, and 2 second lieutenants. - The rank of those killed previous to that time can only be - ascertained by great care in revising the Registers. The - enemies of the Academy have charged, that men have been - educated and resigned without performing service in the army. - This is not so. Besides, the term of service in the Academy, - where they are liable at any time to be called upon and sent to - the extremes of the Union, they are obliged by law, to serve - four years after they have graduated, and in fact, they seldom - do resign, unless they are treated unfairly by government, and - the proportion of resignations of officers appointed from - civil life, is much greater than from those that have graduated - at the Academy. A large number of resignations took place in - 1836, which was attributable to high salaries offered for civil - engineers, and to the general disgust which pervaded the army, - upon the constitution of two regiments of dragoons, when the - appointments were made almost exclusively from civilians, and - officers of long-standing and arduous service in the army found - themselves outranked by men of no experience, and who had done - no service. You can have no idea of the injustice which was - done on that occasion. The ambition of many of the officers was - broken down, and they retired in disgust.” - - * * * * * - -_Note to Fort Erie._—THE DYING SOLDIER.—“On the day preceding the -night attack,” said the Major, “while the enemy were throwing an -incessant discharge of shot and shells into our works, I observed at a -little distance beyond me a group of people collected on the banquette -of the rampart; I approached and found that one of the militia had -been mortally wounded by a cannot shot, and that, supported by his -comrades, he was dictating with his dying breath his last words to his -family. “Tell them,” said he, “that—that—I d-i-e-d l-i-k-e a b-r-a-v-e -m-a-n—fig-h—fig-h-t—” and here his breath failed him, and he sunk nearly -away—but rousing himself again with a desperate exertion—”b-r-a-v-e -m-a-n—fight-in-g for—for—my c-o-u-n-try,”—and he expired with the words -upon his lips.” - - * * * * * - -_Night Attack on Fort Erie._—THE OFFICER’S SABRE.—The writer saw in the -possession of Major ——, a beautiful scimitar-shaped sabre, with polished -steel scabbard; the number of the regiment, (119th, he thinks,) embossed -on its blade, which one of the soldiers picked up and brought in from -among the scattered arms and dead bodies in front of the works on the -following morning. The white leathern belt was cut in two, probably -by a grape shot or musket ball, and saturated with blood. Whether its -unfortunate owner was killed, or wounded only, of course could not be -known. It was a mute and interesting witness of that night’s carnage—and -had undoubtedly belonged to some officer who had been in Egypt, and had -relinquished the straight European sabre, for this favourite weapon of -the Mameluke. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Attack on Fort Erie, and Battle of Lundy’s Lane._—These two -articles elicited the following reply from the pen of an officer of the -U. S. army, who has, alas! since it was written, fallen before the hand -of the grim tyrant, whose blow never falls but in death. The authenticity -of the statement can be relied upon, as the documents from whence it -was derived, were the papers of Major-General Brown, and other high -officers engaged in the campaign. It is proper to observe, that in the -rambling sketch of a tourist, where a mere cursory description was all -that was aimed at, the apparent injustice done to that gallant officer -and eminently skilful soldier, Major-General Brown, (who certainly ought -to have been placed more prominently in the foreground,) was entirely -unintentional. The officer alluded to was under the impression that -Colonel Wood’s remains were never recovered, and that consequently the -monument erected to his memory at West-Point does not rest upon them. -Much of the material of the two articles (eliciting these comments) was -derived from conversations with another highly accomplished and now -retired officer of the U. S. army; and as they were published without his -knowledge, the writer inserts the following reply made to the strictures -at the time: - - ... “Deeming that ‘a local habitation and a name’ may be - affixed to my friend the ‘Major,’ and that he may be considered - responsible for inaccuracies for which others alone are - accountable, I hasten to say, that in the description of the - battle at Lundy’s Lane, (with the exception of some of the - personal anecdotes,) the title is retained merely as a _nom de - guerre_ to carry the reader through the different phases of - the action. The description of the night attack on Fort Erie, - as well as that of the character and personal appearance of - Lieutenant-Colonel Wood, is, however, almost literally that - given at the fireside of my friend. The information received - from the British camp on the following morning, through a - flag, was, as near as could be ascertained, that Colonel - Wood had been bayonetted to death on the ground; and my - impression was that his body had been subsequently identified - and returned. But as your correspondent, apparently a brother - officer, speaks so decidedly, I presume he is correct. Far - more agreeable to me would it have been to have remained under - the delusion, that the bones of that gallant and accomplished - soldier slept under the green plateau of West Point, than the - supposition that even now they may be restlessly whirling in - some dark cavern of the cataracts. The account of the battle at - Lundy’s Lane was compiled from one of the earlier editions of - Brackenridge’s History of the Late War, (I think the third,) - the only written authority that I had upon the subject, and - from conclusions drawn from rambles and casual conversations - on the battle-ground. In how far a rough sketch, which was all - that was aimed at, has been conveyed from that authority, the - reader, as well as your correspondent, can best determine by - referring to the history alluded to.” The desperate bayonet - charge is thus described in that work, fourth edition, p. - 269-270. - - ... “The enemy’s artillery occupied a hill which was the key - to the whole position, and it would be in vain to hope for - victory while they were permitted to retain it. Addressing - himself to Colonel Miller, he inquired whether he could - storm the batteries at the head of the twenty-first, while - he would himself support him with the younger regiment, the - twenty-third? To this the wary, but intrepid veteran replied, - in an unaffected phrase, ‘I’ll try, sir;’[4] words which were - afterwards given as the motto of his regiment. - - ... “The twenty-third was formed in close column under its - commander, Major McFarland, and the first regiment, under - Colonel Nicholas, was left to keep the infantry in check. The - two regiments moved on to one of the most perilous charges - ever attempted; the whole of the artillery opened upon them as - they advanced, supported by a powerful line of infantry. The - twenty-first advanced steadily to its purpose; the twenty-third - faltered on receiving the deadly fire of the enemy, but was - soon rallied by the personal exertions of General Ripley. When - within a hundred yards of the summit, they received another - dreadful discharge, by which Major McFarland was killed, and - the command devolved on Major Brooks. To the amazement of the - British, the intrepid Miller firmly advanced, until within a - few paces of their line, when he impetuously charged upon the - artillery, which, after a short but desperate resistance, - yielded their whole battery, and the American line was in a - moment formed in the rear upon the ground previously occupied - by the British infantry. In carrying the larger pieces, the - twenty-first suffered severely; Lieutenant Cilley, after an - unexampled effort, fell wounded by the side of the piece which - he took: there were but few of the officers of this regiment - who were not either killed or wounded. - - “So far as I can recollect, the personal narrative of my friend - was as follows: Miller, quietly surveying the battery, coolly - replied—‘I’ll try, sir;’ then turning to his regiment, drilled - to beautiful precision, said, ‘Attention, twenty-first.’ He - directed them as they rushed up the hill, to deliver their fire - at the port-lights of the artillerymen, and to immediately - carry the guns at the point of the bayonet. In a very short - time they moved on to the charge, delivered their fire as - directed, and after a furious struggle of a few moments over - the cannon, the battery was in their possession. The words of - caution of the officers, ‘Close up—steady, men—steady,’ I have - heard indifferently ascribed to them at this charge, and at - the desperate sortie from Fort Erie. I am thus particular with - regard to the detail of this transaction, not that I think your - correspondent, any more than myself, regards it as of much - moment, but lest my friend should be considered responsible for - words which he did not utter. - - ... “To show with what secresy the arrangements were made - for the sortie, it is believed that the enemy was in utter - ignorance of the movement. To confirm him in error, a - succession of trusty spies were sent to him in the character - of deserters up to the close of day of the 16th; and so little - did the army know of what were General Brown’s plans for that - day, that even if an officer had gone over to the enemy, the - information he could have given must have been favourable to - the meditated enterprise, as no one had been consulted but - General Porter, and the engineers Colonels McRae and Wood. - - “At nine o’clock in the evening of the 16th, the - general-in-chief called his assistant adjutant-general, Major - Jones, and after explaining concisely his object, ordered - him to see the officers whom the General named and direct - them to his tent. The officers General Brown had selected - to have the honour of leading commands on the 17th came; he - explained to them his views and determinations, and enjoyed - much satisfaction at seeing that his confidence had not been - misplaced. They left him to prepare for the duty assigned to - them on the succeeding day. At twelve o’clock the last agent - was sent to the enemy in the character of a deserter, and - aided, by disclosing all he knew, to confirm him in security. - - “The letter, of which the following is an extract, was written - by General Brown to the Department of War early in the morning - of the 25th July, 1814: - - “‘As General Gaines informed me that the Commodore was in - port, and as he did not know when the fleet would sail, or - when the guns and troops that I had been expecting would even - leave Sackett’s Harbour, I have thought it proper to change my - position with a view to other objects.’ - - “General Scott, with the first brigade, Towson’s artillery, - all the dragoons and mounted men, was accordingly put in - march towards Queenston. He was particularly instructed to - report if the enemy appeared, and to call for assistance if - that was necessary. Having command of the dragoons, he would - have, it was supposed, the means of intelligence. On General - Scott’s arrival near the Falls, he learned that the enemy was - in force directly in his front, a narrow piece of woods alone - intercepting his view of them. Waiting only to despatch this - information, but not to receive any in return, the General - advanced upon him. - - “Hearing the report of cannon and small arms, General Brown - at once concluded that a battle had commenced between the - advance of his army and the enemy, and without waiting for - information from General Scott, ordered the second brigade - and all the artillery to march as rapidly as possible to his - support, and directed Colonel Gardner to remain and see this - order executed. He then rode with his aids-de-camp, and Major - McRee, with all speed towards the scene of action. As he - approached the Falls, about a mile from Chippeway, he met Major - Jones, who had accompanied General Scott, bearing a message - from him, advising General Brown that he had met the enemy. - From the information given by Major Jones, it was concluded to - order up General Porter’s command, and Major Jones was sent - with this order. Advancing a little further, General Brown - met Major Wood, of the engineers, who also had accompanied - General Scott. He reported that the conflict between General - Scott and the enemy was close and desperate, and urged that - reinforcements should be hurried forward. The reinforcements - were now marching with all possible rapidity. The Major-General - was accompanied by Major Wood to the field of battle. Upon - his arrival, he found that General Scott had passed the wood, - and engaged the enemy upon the Queenston road and the ground - to the left of it, with the 9th, 11th, and 22d regiments, and - Towson’s artillery. The 25th had been detached to the right - to be governed by circumstances. Apprehending these troops to - be much exhausted, notwithstanding the good front they showed, - and knowing that they had suffered severely in the contest, - General Brown determined to form and interpose a new line - with the advancing troops, and thus disengage General Scott, - and hold his brigade in reserve. By this time Captains Biddle - and Ritchie’s companies of artillery had come into action. - The head of General Ripley’s column was nearly up with the - right of General Scott’s line. At this moment the enemy fell - back, in consequence, it was believed, of the arrival of fresh - troops, which they could see and begin to feel. At the moment - the enemy broke, General Scott’s brigade gave a general huzza, - that cheered the whole line. General Ripley was ordered to - pass his line and display his column in front. The movement - was commenced in obedience to the order. Majors McRee and Wood - had rapidly reconnoitered the enemy and his position. McRee - reported that he appeared to have taken up a new position with - his line, and with his artillery, to have occupied a height - which gave him great advantages it being the key of the whole - position. To secure the victory, it was necessary to carry - this height, and seize his artillery. McRee was ordered by the - Major-General to conduct Ripley’s command on the Queenstown - road, with a view to that object, and prepare the 21st regiment - under Colonel Miller for the duty. - - “The second brigade immediately advanced on the Queenston - road. Gen. Brown, with his aids-de-camp and Major Wood passing - to the left of the second brigade in front of the first, - approached the enemy’s artillery, and observed an extended - line of infantry formed for its support. A detachment of the - first regiment of infantry, under command of Col. Nicolas, - which arrived that day, and was attached to neither of the - brigades, but had marched to the field of battle in the rear - of the second, was ordered promptly to break off to the - left, and form a line facing the enemy on the height, with a - view of drawing his fire and attracting his attention, while - Col. Miller advanced with the bayonet upon his left flank to - carry his artillery. As the first regiment, led by Major Wood - and commanded by Col. Nicolas, approached its position, the - commanding General rode to Col. Miller, and ordered him to - charge and carry the enemy’s artillery with the bayonet. He - replied in a tone of great promptness and good humour—‘It shall - be done, Sir.’ - - “At this moment the first regiment gave way under the fire - of the enemy; but Col. Miller, without regard to this - circumstance, advanced steadily to his object, and carried - the height and the cannon in a style rarely equalled—never - excelled. At this point of time when Col. Miller moved, the 23d - regiment was on his right, a little in the rear. Gen. Ripley - led this regiment: it had some severe fighting, and in a degree - gave way, but was promptly re-formed, and brought upon the - right of the 21st, with which were connected a detachment of - the 17th and 19th. - - “Gen. Ripley being now with his brigade, formed a line, (the - enemy having been driven from his commanding ground) with the - captured cannon, nine pieces in the rear. The first regiment - having been rallied, was brought into line by Lt. Col. Nicolas - on the left of the second brigade; and Gen. Porter coming up - at this time, occupied with his command the extreme left. Our - artillery formed the right between the 21st and 23d regiments. - Having given to Col. Miller orders to storm the heights and - carry the cannon as he advanced, Gen. Brown moved from his - right flank to the rear of his left. Maj. Wood and Capt. - Spencer met him on the Queenston road; turning down that road, - he passed directly in the rear of the 23rd, as they advanced - to the support of Col. Miller. The shouts of the American - soldiers on the heights at this moment, assured him of Col. - Miller’s success, and he hastened toward the place, designing - to turn from the Queenston road towards the heights up Lundy’s - Lane. In the act of doing so, Maj. Wood and Capt. Spencer, who - were about a horse’s length before him, were near riding upon - a body of the enemy; and nothing prevented them from doing it - but an officer exclaiming before them, “They are the Yankees.” - The exclamation halted the three American officers, and upon - looking down the road they saw a line of British infantry drawn - up in front of the western fence of the road with its right - resting upon Lundy’s Lane. - - “The British officer had, at the moment he gave this alarm, - discovered Maj. Jesup. The Major had, as before observed, at - the commencement of the action, been ordered by Gen. Scott to - take ground to his right. - - “He had succeeded in turning the enemy’s left, had captured - Gen. Riall and several other officers, and sent them to camp, - and then, feeling and searching his way silently towards where - the battle was raging, had brought his regiment, the 25th, - after a little comparative loss, up to the eastern fence at - the Queenston road, a little to the north of Lundy’s Lane. - The moment the British gave Jesup notice of having discovered - him, Jesup ordered his command to fire upon the enemy’s line. - The lines could not have been more then four rods apart—Jesup - behind the south fence, the British in front of the north. - The slaughter was dreadful; the enemy fled down the Queenston - road at the third or fourth fire. As the firing ceased, - the Major-General approached Major Jesup, advised him that - Col. Miller had carried the enemy’s artillery, and received - information of the capture of Gen. Riall. - - “The enemy having rallied his broken forces and received - reinforcements, was now discovered in good order and in great - force. The commanding General, doubting the correctness of the - information, and to ascertain the truth, passed in person with - his suite in front of our line. He could no longer doubt, as a - more extended line than he had yet seen during the engagement - was near, and advancing upon us. Capt. Spencer, without saying - a word, put spurs to his horse, and rode directly up to the - advancing line, then, turning towards the enemy’s right, - inquired in a strong and firm voice, ‘What regiment is that?’ - and was as promptly answered, ‘The Royal Scots, Sir.’ - - “General Brown and suite then threw themselves behind our - troops without loss of time, and waited the attack. The enemy - advanced slowly and firmly upon us: perfect silence was - observed throughout both armies until the lines approached to - within four to six rods. Our troops had levelled their pieces - and the artillery was prepared,—the order to fire was given. - Most awful was its effect. The lines closed in part before the - enemy was broken. He then retired precipitately, the American - army following him. The field was covered with the slain, but - not an enemy capable of marching was to be seen. We dressed our - men upon the ground we occupied. Gen. Brown was not disposed - to leave it in the dark, knowing it was the best in the - neigbourhood. His intention, then, was to maintain it until - day should dawn, and to be governed by circumstances. - - “Our gallant and accomplished foe did not give us much time - for deliberation. He showed himself within twenty minutes, - apparently undismayed and in good order.” - -[4] The twenty-first carried the celebrated ‘_I’ll try, Sir_,’ inscribed -upon their buttons during the remainder of the war. - -Extract of a private letter from the writer of the above article, dated -January 15, 1841. - - ... “As to the fate of the gallant and accomplished Wood.—You - supposed a flag from the enemy reported he had been bayoneted - to death on the ground—like enough, but how did the enemy - recognise his body. Gen. Porter thinks he fell at the close of - the action at battery No. 1, but I never heard that any one saw - him fall.—His body never was recovered. Those of Gibson and - Davis, the leaders of the two other columns in Gen. Porter’s - command, were. - - “Soon after the war, McRee, one of the best military engineers - this country ever produced, threw up his commission in disgust - and died of the cholera at St. Louis. - - “From the time I lost sight of Gen. Scott in my narrative until - after the change referred to at the end of the narrative, Gen. - Scott with three of his battalions had been held in reserve. - The commander-in-chief now rode in person to Gen. Scott, and - ordered him to advance. That officer was prepared and expected - the call.—As Scott advanced toward Ripley’s left, Gen. Brown - passed to the left to speak with Gen. Porter and see the - condition and countenance of his militia, who, at that moment, - were thrown into some confusion under a most galling and deadly - fire from the enemy: they were, however, kept to their duty by - the exertions of their gallant chiefs, and most nobly sustained - the conflict. The enemy was repulsed and again driven out of - sight. But a short time, however, had elapsed, when he was - once more distinctly seen, in great force, advancing upon our - main line under the command of Ripley and Porter. The direction - that Scott had given his column would have enabled him in five - minutes, to have formed a line in the rear of the enemy’s - right, and thus have brought him between two fires. But in a - moment most unexpected, a flank fire from a party of the enemy, - concealed upon our left, falling upon the centre of Scott’s - command, when in open column, blasted our proud expectations. - His column was severed in two; one part passing to the rear, - the other by the right flank of platoons towards the main line. - About this period Gen. Brown received his first wound, a musket - ball passing through his right thigh and _carrying away his - watch seal_, a few minutes after Capt. Spencer received his - mortal wound.... - - “This was the last desperate effort made by the enemy to regain - his position and artillery.... - - “Porter’s volunteers were not excelled by the regulars - during this charge. They were soon precipitated by their - heroic commander upon the enemy’s line, which they broke and - dispersed, making many prisoners. The enemy now seemed to be - effectually routed; they disappeared.... - - “At the commencement of the action, Col. Jesup was detached - to the left of the enemy, with the discretionary order, to be - governed by circumstances.—The commander of the British forces - had committed a fault by leaving a road unguarded on his left. - Col. Jesup, taking advantage of this, threw himself promptly - into the rear of the enemy, where he was enabled to operate - with brilliant enterprise and the happiest effect. The capture - of Gen. Riall, with a large escort of officers of rank, was - part of the trophies of his intrepidity and skill. It is not, - we venture to assert, bestowing on him too much praise to say, - that to his achievements, more than to those of any other - individual, is to be attributed the preservation of the first - brigade from utter annihilation. - - “Among the officers captured by Col. Jesup, was Capt. Loring, - one of General Drummond’s aid-de-camps, who had been despatched - from the front line to order up the reserve, with a view to - fall on Scott with the concentrated force of the whole army - and overwhelm him at a single effort. Nor would it have been - possible to prevent this catastrophe, had the reserve arrived - in time; the force with which General Scott would have been - obliged to contend being nearly quadruple that of his own. By - the fortunate capture, however, of the British aid-de-camp, - before the completion of the service on which he had been - ordered, the enemy’s reserve was not brought into action until - the arrival of Gen. Ripley’s brigade, which prevented the - disaster that must otherwise have ensued, and achieved, in the - end, one of the most honourable victories that ever shed lustre - upon the arms of a nation....” - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—RAINBOW OF THE CATARACT.—The afternoon of the -action presented one of those delicious summer scenes in which all -nature appears to be breathing in harmony and beauty.—As General Scott’s -brigade came in view, and halted in the vicinity of the cataracts, the -mist rising from the falls, was thrown in upon the land, arching the -American force with a vivid and gorgeous rainbow, the left resting on the -cataract, and the right lost in the forest. Its brilliance and beauty was -such, that it excited not only the enthusiasm of the officers, but even -the camp followers were filled with admiration. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—THE DAY AFTER THE BATTLE.—“I rode to the -battle-ground about day-light on the following morning, without -witnessing the presence of a single British officer or soldier. The -dead had not been removed through the night, and such a scene of -carnage I never before beheld.—Red coats, blue, and grey, promiscuously -intermingled, _in many places three deep_, and around the hill where the -enemy’s artillery was carried by Colonel Miller, the carcasses of sixty -or seventy horses added to the horror of the scene.”—_Private Letter of -an Officer._ - -The dead were collected and burnt in funeral piles, made of rails, on the -field where they had fallen. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—THE TWO SERGEANTS.—For several days after the -action, the country people found the bodies of soldiers who had straggled -off into the woods, and died of their wounds.—At some distance from -the field of battle, and entirely alone, were found the bodies of two -sergeants, American and English, transfixed by each other’s bayonets, -lying across each other, where they had fallen in deadly duel. It is -rare that individual combat takes place under such circumstances in the -absence of spectators to cheer on the combatants by their approval, and -this incident conveys some idea of the desperation which characterised -the general contest on that night. Yet in this lonely and brief tragedy, -these two men were enacting parts, which to them were as momentous as the -furious conflict of the masses in the distance. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—DEATH OF CAPTAIN HULL.—Captain Hull, a son of -General Hull, whose unfortunate surrender at Detroit created so much -odium, fell in this battle. He led his men into the midst of the heaviest -fire of the enemy, and after they were almost if not all destroyed, -plunged sword in hand into the centre of the British column, fighting -with the utmost desperation until he was literally impaled upon their -bayonets. - -In the pocket of this gallant and generous young officer, was found a -letter, avowing his determination to signalize the name or to fall in the -attempt. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—SCOTT’S BRIGADE.—Part of Gen. Scott’s command -were dressed in grey—(probably the fatigue dress)—at the battle of -Chippewa. An English company officer relates, that—“Advancing at the head -of my men, I saw a body of Americans drawn up, dressed in grey uniform. -Supposing them to be militia, I directed my men to fire, and immediately -charge bayonet.—What was my surprise, to find as the smoke of our fire -lifted from the ground, that instead of flying in consternation from our -destructive discharge, the supposed militia were coming down upon us at -‘double quick’—at the charge. In two minutes I stood alone, my men having -given way, without waiting to meet the shock.” - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—DEATH OF CAPT. SPENCER.—Capt. Spencer, -aid-de-camp to Maj. Gen. Brown, a son of the Hon. Ambrose Spencer, was -only eighteen years of age at the time that he closed his brief career. -He was directed by Gen. Brown to carry an order to another part of the -field, and to avoid a more circuitous route, he chivalrously galloped -down, exposed to the heavy fire in the front of the line, eliciting -the admiration of both armies, but before he reached the point of his -destination, two balls passed through his body, and he rolled from his -saddle. - -The following letter to Gen. Armstrong, Secretary of War, will show in -what estimation he was held by Gen. Brown:— - - Copy of a letter from Major Gen. Brown, to Gen. Armstrong, - Secretary of War. - - “HEAD QUARTERS, FORT ERIE, 20th September, 1814. - - “SIR—Among the officers lost to this army, in the battle of - Niagara Falls, was my aid-de-camp, Captain Ambrose Spencer, who - being mortally wounded, was obliged to be left in the hands - of the enemy. By flags from the British army, I was shortly - afterwards assured of his convalescence, and an offer was made - me by Lieutenant General Drummond, to exchange him for his own - aid, Captain Loring, then a prisoner of war with us. However - singular this proposition appeared, as Captain Loring was not - wounded, nor had received the slightest injury, I was willing - to comply with it on Captain Spencer’s account. But as I knew - his wounds were severe, I first sent to ascertain the fact of - his being then living. My messenger, with a flag, was detained, - nor even once permitted to see Captain Spencer, though in his - immediate vicinity. - - “The evidence I wished to acquire failed; but my regard for - Captain Spencer, would not permit me longer to delay, and I - informed General Drummond, that his aid should be exchanged, - even for the _body_ of mine. This offer was, no doubt, gladly - accepted, and the _corpse_ of Captain Spencer sent to the - American shore.” - - * * * * * - -_Note to MONTREAL._—The custom of emblazoning on the flags, and other -military insignia of the regiments, the actions in which they have -signalized themselves, obtaining in the British and other European -services, is not now allowed in that of the United States, on the score -of its aristocratic tendency! Although, perhaps, in the instance alluded -to, the stupidity of the individual prevented him from understanding -their meaning; still, to the more intelligent of the soldiers, they are -no doubt a great incentive to uphold the honour of the regiment. - - * * * * * - -_Note to LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA._—This important position, situated -on Lake Champlain near the foot of the Horicon, (called by the English, -Lake George, and by the French, St. Sacrament,) was first fortified by -the French, and was the point from which they made so many incursions, -in conjunction with the Indians, upon the English settlements. Lord -Abercrombie led an army of nearly 16,000 men against it in the year -1658; but was defeated with a loss of 2000 men, and one of his most -distinguished officers, Lord Howe, who fell at the head of one of the -advance columns. In the following year it surrendered to General Amherst, -who led a force of nearly equal number against it. Its surprise and -capture by Ethan Allen at the commencement of our revolution, is, we -presume, familiar to every American, as also the fact of Burgoyne’s -getting heavy cannon upon the neighbouring mountain which had heretofore -been considered impracticable, and from which the works were entirely -commanded. The necessary withdrawal of the army by St. Clair, after -blowing up the works, is as related in the text. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Bass Fishing._—CREW OF THE ESSEX FRIGATE.—In the bloody and -heroic defence of the Essex, in which, out of a crew of two hundred and -fifty-five men, one hundred and fifty-three were killed and wounded! a -number of instances of individual daring and devotion are recorded of -the common sailors. Besides the act of Ripley, which is mentioned in the -text, one man received a cannon ball through his body, and exclaimed in -the agonies of death—“Never mind, shipmates, I die for free trade and -sailor’s rights.” Another expired inciting his shipmates to “fight for -liberty!”—and another, Benjamin Hazen, having dressed himself in a clean -shirt and jacket, threw himself overboard, declaring, that “he would -never be incarcerated in an English prison.” An old man-of-war’s-man -who was in her, informed the writer, that her sides were so decayed by -exposure to the climate in which she had been cruizing, that the dust -flew like smoke from every shot that came through the bulwarks, and that -at the close of the action, when the Essex was lying perfectly helpless, -a target for the two heavy British ships, riddled by every ball from -their long guns, without the ability to return a single shot—he was -near the quarter-deck and heard Commodore Porter walking up and down -with hurried steps, repeatedly strike his breast and exclaim, in great -apparent agony—“My Heaven!—is there no shot for me!” - - * * * * * - -_Note to Bass Fishing._—MUTINY ON BOARD THE ESSEX FRIGATE.—While the -Essex was lying at the Marquesas Islands, recruiting and refreshing her -crew from one of the long and arduous cruises in the Pacific, Commodore -Porter was informed through a servant of one of the officers, that -a mutiny had been planned, and was on the eve of consummation. That -it was the intention of the mutineers to rise upon the officers—take -possession of the ship—and, after having remained as long as they found -agreeable at the island, to hoist the black flag and “cruize on their -own account.”—Having satisfied himself of the truth of the information, -Commodore Porter ascended to the quarter-deck, and ordered all the crew -to be summoned aft. Waiting till the last man had come from below, he -informed them that he understood that a mutiny was on foot, and that he -had summoned them for the purpose of inquiring into its truth.—“Those -men who are in favour of standing by the ship and her officers,” said -the commodore, “will go over to the starboard side—those who are against -them will remain where they are.” The crew, to a man, moved over to the -starboard side. The ship was still as the grave. Fixing his eyes on -them steadily and sternly for a few moments—the commodore said—“Robert -White—step out.” The man obeyed, standing pale and agitated—guilt stamped -on every lineament of his countenance—in front of his comrades. The -commodore looked at him a moment—then seizing a cutlass from the nearest -rack, said, in a suppressed voice, but in tones so deep that they rung -like a knell upon the ears of the guilty among the crew—“Villain!—you -are the ringleader of this mutiny—jump overboard!” The man dropt on his -knees, imploring for mercy—saying that he could not swim. “Then drown, -you scoundrel!” said the commodore, springing towards him to cut him -down—“overboard instantly!”—and the man jumped over the side of the -ship. He then turned to the trembling crew, and addressed them with much -feeling—the tears standing upon his bronzed cheek as he spoke. He asked -them what he had done, that his ship should be disgraced by a mutiny. -He asked whether he had ever dishonoured the flag—whether he had ever -treated them with other than kindness—whether they had ever been wanting -for any thing to their comfort, that discipline and the rules of the -service would allow—and which it was in his power to give. At the close -of his address, he said—“Men!—before I came on deck, I laid a train to -the magazine!—and I would have blown all on board into eternity, before -my ship should have been disgraced by a successful mutiny—I never would -have survived the dishonour of my ship!—go to your duty.” The men were -much affected by the commodore’s address, and immediately returned to -their duty, showing every sign of contrition. They were a good crew, but -had been seduced by the allurements of the islands, and the plausible -representations of a villain. That they did their duty to their flag, it -is only necessary to say—that the same crew fought the ship afterwards -against the Phebe, and Cherub, in the harbour of Valparaiso, where, -though the American flag descended—it descended in a blaze of glory which -will long shine on the pages of history. But mark the sequel of this -mutiny—and let those who, _in the calm security of their firesides_, -are so severe upon the course of conduct pursued by officers in such -critical situations, see how much innocent blood would have been saved, -if White had been cut down instantly, or hung at the yard arm. As he -went overboard, he succeeded in reaching a canoe floating at a little -distance and paddled ashore. Some few months afterwards, when Lieutenant -Gamble of the Marines was at the islands, in charge of one of the large -prizes, short handed and in distress, this same White, at the head of -a party of natives, attacked the ship, killed two of the officers and -a number of the men, and it was with great difficulty that she was -prevented from falling into their hands. The blood of those innocent men, -and the lives of two meritorious officers would have been spared, if the -wretch had been put to instant death—as was the commodore’s intention. -It will be recollected, that the Essex, in getting under way, out of the -harbour of Valparaiso, carried away her foretop-mast in a squall, and -being thus unmanageable, came to anchor in the supposed protection of a -neutral port—nevertheless the Phebe, frigate, and Cherub, sloop-of-war, -attacked her in this position—the former with her long guns, selecting -her distance—cutting her up at her leisure—while the Essex, armed only -with carronades, lay perfectly helpless—her shot falling short of the -Phebe, although they reached the Cherub, which was forced to get out -of their range. “I was standing,” said my informant, then a midshipman -only fourteen years old, “I was standing at the side of one of our bow -chasers, (the only long guns we had,) which we had run aft out of the -stern port—when the Phebe bore up, and ran under our stern to rake us. -As she came within half-pistol shot (!) she gave us her whole broadside -at the same instant.—I recollect it well!” said the officer—“for as I -saw the flash, I involuntarily closed my eyes—expecting that she would -have blown us out of the water—and she certainly would have sunk us on -the spot, but firing too high, her shot cut our masts and rigging all to -pieces, doing little injury to the hull. Singular as it may seem, the -discharge of our one gun caused more slaughter than the whole of their -broadside, for while we had but one man wounded, the shot from our gun -killed two of the men at the wheel of the Phebe, and glancing with a -deep gouge on the main-mast, mortally wounded her first Lieutenant, who -died on the following day.” - - * * * * * - -_Long Island Sound._—NEW ENGLAND TRADITIONS.—There are few countries -where traditions and legends are handed down from generation to -generation with more fidelity than in New England, more particularly -along the sea-coast and the shores of the Sound. The “fire ship” is -supposed even now by the old fishermen to be seen cruising occasionally -in the vicinity of Block Island in the furious storms of thunder and -lightning. The tradition is, that she was taken by pirates—all hands -murdered, and abandoned after being set on fire by the bucaneers. Some -accounts state that a large white horse which was on board, was left -near the foremast to perish in the flames—and in storms of peculiarly -terrific violence that she may be seen, rushing along enveloped in fire, -the horse stamping and pawing at the heel of the foremast, her phantom -crew assembled at quarters. In the early part of the last century, a ship -came ashore a few miles beyond Newport, on one of the beaches—all sails -set—the table prepared for dinner, but the food untouched, and no living -thing on board of her. It was never ascertained what had become of her -crew—but it was supposed that she had been abandoned in some moment of -alarm, and that they all perished, although the vessel arrived in safety. - -The phantom horse will recall to mind a real incident, which occurred -not long since in the conflagration of one of the large steamboats on -Lake Erie. A fine race horse was on board, and secured, as is usual, -forward. Of course his safety was not looked to, while all were making -vain efforts to save themselves from their horrible fate. As the flames -came near him he succeeded in tearing himself loose from his fastenings, -rushing franticly through the fire and smoke fore and aft, trampling down -the unfortunate victims that were in his way, adding still more horror -to a scene which imagination can hardly realize, until frenzied with the -pain and agony of the fire, he plunged overboard and perished. - -But the favourite and most cherished traditions are those relating to -hidden treasure. The writer well recollects one to which his attention -was attracted in his childhood. Mr. ——, inhabiting one of those fine -old mansions in Newport, which had been built fifty years before, by -an English gentleman of fortune, where taste and caprice had been -indulged to the extreme, and where closets, and beaufets, and cellars, -and pantries, appeared to meet one at every turn, was engaged late one -winter’s night writing in his study, when he found it necessary to -replenish his fire with fuel. The servants having retired, he took a -candle and went himself to the cellar to procure it, and as he passed -the vault called the “wine cellar,” his attention was attracted by a -light streaming through the key-hole of the door. He stopped a moment and -called out supposing that some of the family were in the apartment—but -instantly the light vanished. He stepped up to the door and endeavoured -to open it, but found to his surprise that it was fastened,—a thing -that was unusual as the door constantly stood ajar. Calling out again, -“who’s there?” without receiving any answer, he placed his foot against -the door, and forced it open, when a sight met his eyes, which for a -moment chained him to the spot. In the centre of the cellar in a deep -grave which had been already dug, and leaning upon his spade, was a -brawny negro, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, and the -sweat trickling down his glistening black visage, while on the pile of -earth made from the excavation, stood another negro, a drawn sword in -one hand, a lantern with the light just extinguished in the other, and -an open bible with two hazle rods across it, lying at his feet—these -swart labourers the moment that the door was thrown open, making the most -earnest signs for silence. As soon as Mr. —— could command his voice, he -demanded the meaning of what he saw and what they were about. They both -simultaneously then declared that the charm was broken by his voice. One -of the worthies, who was the groom of the family, had dreamed five nights -in succession, that old Mr. E—— the builder of the house, had buried -a bootful (!) of gold in that cellar—and on comparing notes with his -brother dreamer, he found that his visions also pointed to treasure in -the old house, and they had proceeded secundem artem to its attainment, -both vehemently declaring that they intended to give part of the treasure -to Mr. ——. Of course, the door being opened, the strange negro was -required to add the darkness of his visage to that of night, while the -groom was on pain of instant dismission, together with the threat of the -ridicule of the whole town, directed to fill up the grave, and thereafter -to let the buried treasure sleep where its owner had seen fit to deposit -it. - - - - -NEW WORKS, - -AND - -=New Editions of Established Books,= - -PUBLISHED BY - -_D. 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Illustrated with a Frontispiece and -twenty-three engraved Portraits, forming four elegant 8vo. vols. $8 00. - - The established character of Bishop Burnet’s History of the - Reformation as a standard work, and most valuable historical - authority, render it unnecessary to enter into any analysis of - its merits, further than briefly to state the advantages of - this edition over all others. - - Often as this celebrated History of the Reformation of the - Church of England has been printed and published, often as it - has been read, and continually as it has been referred to by - successive writers, interested in the important subject of - which it treats; yet one thing seems to have been constantly - overlooked, namely, the necessity of a distinct Preface to - point out, and to explain to readers in general, the particular - character of the publication. - - It is a work of too great magnitude to be repeatedly read - through, and though its eminence as an historical work, must - always be such as to render it imperatively necessary for - certain writers to consult its pages, yet in every reprint of - it, it should be contemplated by the publisher not merely as - a book of reference, but as one to be read like other books - of history regularly from the beginning to the end, not by - professed scholars only, or by persons already versed in - history, civil or ecclesiastical, but by such as may be only - beginning their historical inquiries and researches—young - readers and mere students. - - Scarcely any other book of equal importance, perhaps, stands - so much in need of preliminary explanations as this great work - of the celebrated writer whose name it bears. 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Illustrated with 1241 Engravings, and -containing upwards of 1400 closely printed pages. $5 00. - -In every point of view a work like the present can but be regarded as a -benefit done to theoretical science, to commerce and industry, and an -important addition to a species of literature the exclusive production -of the present century, and the present state of peace and civilization. -Criticisms in favour of its intrinsic value to all classes of the -community might be produced (if space would permit,) from upwards of -three hundred of the leading journals in Europe and this country. - - -COWPER’S COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS. - -The Complete Poetical Works of Wm. Cowper, Esq., including the Hymns and -Translations from Mad. Guion, Milton, &c., and Adam, a Sacred Drama, from -the Italian of Battista Andreini, with a Memoir of the Author, by the -Rev. Henry Stebbing, A.M. Two elegantly printed volumes, 400 pages each, -16mo. with beautiful frontispieces. $1 75. - -_This is the only complete American edition of the true Christian Poet._ - - -BURNS’ COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS. - -The complete Poetical Works of Robert Burns with Explanatory and -Glossarial Notes, and a Life of the Author, by James Currie, M.D., -uniform in style with Cowper. $1 25. - -This is the most complete edition which has been published, and contains -the whole of the poetry comprised in the edition lately edited by -Cunningham, as well as some additional pieces; and such notes have -been added as are calculated to illustrate the manners and customs of -Scotland, so as to render the whole more intelligible to the English -reader. - - -MILTON’S COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS. - -The Complete Poetical Works of John Milton, with Explanatory Notes -and a Life of the Author, by the Rev. Henry Stebbing, AM. Beautifully -illustrated—uniform in style with Cowper, Burns, and Scott. $1 25. - -The Latin and Italian Poems are included in this edition. - -Mr. Stebbing’s notes will be found very useful in elucidating the learned -allusions with which the text abounds, and they are also valuable for -the correct appreciation with which the writer directs attention to the -beauties of the Author. - - -SCOTT’S POETICAL WORKS. - -The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Bart.—Containing Lay of the Last -Minstrel, Marmion, Lady of the Lake, Don Roderick, Rokeby, Ballads, -Lyrics, and Songs, with a Life of the Author, uniform with Cowper, Burns, -&c. $1 25. - -“Walter Scott is the most popular of all the poets of the present day -and deservedly so. He describes that which is most easily and generally -understood with more vivacity and effect than any other writer. His style -is clear, flowing and transparent; his sentiments, of which his style is -an easy and natural medium, are common to him with his readers.” - - -SOUTHEY’S POETICAL WORKS. - -The complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey, Esq., LL.D. The ten volume -London edition in one elegant royal 8vo. volume, with a fine portrait and -vignette. $3 50. - -☞ This edition, which the author has arranged and revised with the same -care as if it were intended for posthumous publication, includes many -pieces which either have never before been collected, or have hitherto -remained unpublished. - -Preliminary notices are affixed to the long poems,—the whole of the notes -retained,—and such additional ones incorporated as the author, since the -first publication, has seen occasion to insert. - - _Contents._ - - _Joan of Arc._ - _Juvenile and Minor Poems._ - _Thalaba the Destroyer._ - _Madoc._ - _Ballads and Metrical Tales._ - _The Curse of Kehama._ - _Roderick the last of the Goths._ - _The Poet’s Pilgrimage to Waterloo._ - _Lay of the Laureate._ - _Vision of Judgment, &c._ - -“At the age of sixty-three I have undertaken to collect and edit my -poetical works, with the last corrections that I can expect to bestow -upon them. They have obtained a reputation equal to my wishes.... Thus to -collect and revise them is a duty which I owe to that part of the public -by whom they have been auspiciously received, and to those who will take -a lively concern in my good name when I shall have departed.”—_Extract -from Author’s Preface._ - - -THE BOOK OF THE NAVY; - -Comprising a general History of the American Marine, and particular -accounts of all the most celebrated Naval Battles, from the Declaration -of Independence to the present time, compiled from the best authorities. -By John Frost, Professor of Belles Lettres in the High School of -Philadelphia. With an Appendix, containing Naval Songs, Anecdotes, -&c. Embellished with numerous original Engravings and Portraits of -distinguished Naval Commanders. Complete in one handsome volume octavo. -$1 50. - - -PICTORIAL LIFE OF NAPOLEON. - -History of Napoleon Bonaparte, translated from the French of M. Laurent -de L’Ardeche, with five hundred spirited illustrations, after designs by -Horace Vernet, and twenty original portraits engraved in the best style. -Complete in two handsome volumes, octavo, about 500 pages each. $4 00. - - -PICTORIAL ROBINSON CRUSOE. - -The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. By Daniel De Foe. With -a Memoir of the Author, and an Essay on his Writings, illustrated -with nearly 500 spirited Engravings, by the celebrated French artist -Grandville, forming one elegant volume, octavo, of 500 pages. $1 75. - - -PICTORIAL VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. - -The Vicar of Wakefield. By Oliver Goldsmith. Elegantly illustrated with -200 hundred Engravings, making a beautiful volume, octavo, of 350 pages. -$1 25. - - -THE AMERICAN IN EGYPT; WITH RAMBLES THROUGH Arabia-Petræa and the Holy -Land, during the years 1839-40. - -By James Ewing Cooley. Illustrated with numerous Steel Engravings, also -Etchings and Designs by Johnston,—one handsome volume octavo, of 610 -pages. - -No other volume extant can give the reader so true a picture of what he -would be likely to see and meet in Egypt. No other book is more practical -and plain in its picture of precisely what the traveller himself will -meet. Other writers have one account to give of their journey on paper, -and another to relate in conversation. Mr. Cooley has but one story for -the fireside circle and the printed page.—_Brother Jonathan._ - - -THE DAUGHTERS OF ENGLAND: - -Their Position in Society, Character, and Responsibilities. By Mrs. -Ellis, author of “The Women of England.” Complete in one handsome volume -12mo. 75 cents. - - -GEMS FROM TRAVELLERS. - -Illustrative of various passages in the Holy Scriptures, with nearly 100 -Engravings. Among the authorities quoted will be found the following -distinguished names: Haimer, Laborde, Lane, Madden, Clarke, Pocoke, -Chandler Malcom, Hartley, Russel, Jowitt, Carne, Shaw, Morier, Neibuhr, -Bruce, Calmet, H. Belzoni, Lord Lindsay, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. $1 00. - - -SPIRITUAL CHRISTIANITY. - -Lectures on Spiritual Christianity. By Isaac Taylor, author of “Spiritual -Despotism,” &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. $0 75. - - - - -NEW WORKS & NEW EDITIONS. - - -The undersigned have the pleasure of presenting to you a copy of -their Catalogue of important Publications in the several departments -of Literature. They would particularly direct your attention to -that admirable series of devotional works by BISHOP PATRICK, BISHOP -WILSON, DOCTOR SUTTON and others, which have received the unqualified -commendation of the Church. In a letter received from BISHOP WHITTINGHAM, -he says, “I had forgotten to express my _very great satisfaction_ at your -commencement of a series of devotional works, lately re-published in -Oxford and London.” Again, BISHOP DOANE says of this, “I write to express -my thanks to you for reprints of the Oxford books; first, for reprinting -such books, and secondly, in such a style I sincerely hope you may be -encouraged to go on, and give them all to us. You will dignify the art -of printing, and you will do great service to the best interests of the -country.” The undersigned also beg to refer to their beautiful edition of -the Poetical Works of SOUTHEY, also to that excellent series of “Tales -for the People and their Children,” by MARY HOWITT and others, and to -that extensive series of popular works for general reading, uniting an -interesting style with soundness of Christian principle, such as the -works of ARCHBISHOP MAGEE, GUIZOT, JOHN ANGELL JAMES, MISS SINCLAIR, REV. -ROBERT PHILIP, REV. AUGUSTUS WM. HARE, JNO. PYE SMITH, FREDERICK AUGUSTUS -SCHLEGEL, ISAAC TAYLOR, DR. W. C. TAYLOR, REV. DR. SPRAGUE, &c. &c. They -also publish those very popular Voyages and Travels by REV. H. SOUTHGATE, -of the Episcopal Mission, and FITCH W. TAYLOR, together with the Memoirs -of GENERAL ALEXANDER HAMILTON by his son; and will continue to publish -standard and popular works, and trust to merit a continuance of public -favour. - - D. APPLETON & Co. - _Emporium for Standard Literature_, - 200 BROADWAY, NEW-YORK. - -☞ D. A. & Co.’s Catalogue of English Books (critical and explanatory) -will shortly be ready for delivery. - - -SCHLEGEL’S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY, - -The Philosophy of History, in a course of Lectures delivered at Vienna, -by FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL, translated from the German, with a Memoir of -the author, by J. B. ROBERTSON. Handsomely printed on fine paper. 2 vols. -12mo. - -“To do a mere reviewer’s justice to such a work would require many -numbers of our journal. It is quite unnecessary to do more than direct -attention to a production which, beyond all others, has contributed -to exalt and purify modern science and literature—a work to which, in -the eloquent words of a great man, ‘we owe the attempts at least to -turn philosophy’s eye inward on the soul, and to compound the most -sacred elements of its spiritual powers with the ingredients of human -knowledge.’”—_Literary Gazette._ - - -THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SOCIETY, IN THE BARBAROUS AND CIVILISED STATE. - -An Essay towards discovering the Origin and Course of Human Improvement. -By W. COOKE TAYLOR, LL.D., &c., of Trinity College, Dublin. Handsomely -printed on fine paper. 2 vols. 12 mo. - -“A most able work, the design of which is to determine from an -examination of the various forms in which society has been formed, what -was the origin of civilization, and under what circumstances those -attributes of humanity, which in one country become the foundation of -social happiness, and in another perverted to the production of general -misery. For this purpose the author has separately examined the principal -elements by which society, under all its aspects, is held together, and -traced each to its source in human nature. He has then directed attention -to the development of these principles, and pointed out the circumstances -by which they were perfected on the one hand, or corrupted on the other.” - -“We perceive by the preface that the work has had throughout, the -superintendence of the very learned Archbishop Whately.”—_New-York -American._ - - -CARLYLE ON HISTORY AND HEROES. - -HERO, HERO-WORSHIP, AND THE HEROIC IN HISTORY. - -Six Lectures, reported with, emendations and additions. - -By THOMAS CARLYLE, author of the “French Revolution,” “Sartor Resartus,” -&c. - -Contents—The Hero as Divinity, Odin, Paganism, Scandinavian Mythology, -The Hero as Prophet, Mahomet, Islam; The Hero as Poet, Dante, Shakspeare; -The Hero as Priest, Luther, Reformation, Knox, Puritanism; The Hero as -Man of Letters, Johnson, Rousseau, Burns; The Hero as King, Cromwell, -Napoleon, Modern Revolutionism. - -1 vol. 12mo., beautifully printed on fine white paper. - - -THOUGHTS IN PAST YEARS: - -A beautiful collection of Poetry, chiefly Devotional. By the Author of -the Cathedral. 1 vol. royal 16mo. elegantly printed. - - -MEDITATIONS ON THE SACRAMENT. - -Godly Meditations upon the most Holy Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. By -CHRISTOPHER SUTTON, DD., late Prebend of Westminster. 1 vol. royal 16mo., -elegantly ornamented. - - -LEARN TO DIE. - -Disce Mori, Learn to Die, a Religious Discourse, moving every Christian -man to enter into a serious remembrance of his end. By CHRISTOPHER -SUTTON, DD., sometime Prebend of Westminster. 1 vol. 16mo, elegantly -ornamented. - - -SACRA PRIVATA: THE Private Meditations, Devotions and Prayers - -Of the Right Rev. T. Wilson, D.D., Lord Bishop of Soder and Man. First -complete edition. 1 vol. royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented. First -complete edition. - - -A Discourse Concerning Prayer - -And the Frequenting Daily Public Prayers. By SIMON PATRICK, D.D., -sometime Lord Bishop of Ely. Edited by FRANCIS E. PAGET, M.A., Chaplain -to the Lord Bishop of Oxford. 1 vol. royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented. - - -HEART’S EASE: Or a Remedy against all Troubles; WITH A Consolatory -Discourse, - -Particularly addressed to those who have lost their friends and dear -relations. By SIMON PATRICK, DD., sometime Lord Bishop of Ely. 1 vol. -royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented. - - -SCRIPTURE and GEOLOGY. - -On the Relation between the Holy Scriptures and some parts of Geological -Science. By JOHN PYE SMITH, DD., author of the Scripture Testimony of the -Messiah, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -TOUR THROUGH TURKEY and PERSIA. - -Narrative of a Tour through Armenia, Kurdistan, Persia, and Mesopotamia, -with an Introduction and Occasional Observations upon the Condition of -Mohammedanism and Christianity in those countries. By the REV. HORATIO -SOUTHGATE, Missionary of the American Episcopal Church. 2 vols. 12mo. -plates. - - -Magee on Atonement and Sacrifice. - -Discourses and Dissertations on the Scriptural Doctrines of Atonement -and Sacrifice, and on the Principal Arguments advanced, and the Mode -of Reasoning employed, by the Opponents of those Doctrines, as held by -the Established Church. By the late Most Rev. WILLIAM MAGEE, D. D., -Archbishop of Dublin. 2 vols, royal 8vo., beautifully printed. - - -SOUTHEY’S POETICAL WORKS. - -The complete collected edition of the Poetical Works of ROBERT SOUTHEY, -Esq., LL.D. edited by himself. Printed verbatim from the ten volume -London edition. Illustrated with a fine portrait and vignette. 1 vol. -royal 8vo. - -“The beauties of Mr. Southey’s Poetry are such that this collected -edition can hardly fail to find a place in the Library of every person -fond of elegant literature.”—_Eclectic Review._ - -“Southey’s principal Poems have been long before the world, extensively -read, and highly appreciated. Their appearing in a uniform edition, with -the author’s final corrections, will afford unfeigned pleasure to those -who are married to immortal verse.”—_Literary Gazette._ - -“This edition of the works of Southey is a credit to the press of our -country.”—_N. A. Review._ - - -GUIZOT’S HISTORY of CIVILIZATION. - -General History of Civilization in Europe, from the Fall of the Roman -Empire to the French Revolution. Translated from the French of M. GUIZOT, -Professor of History to la Faculté des Lettres of Paris, and Minister of -Public Instruction. 2d American, from the last London edition. 1 vol. -12mo. - - -BICKERSTETH’S COMPLETE WORKS. - -The Works of the REV. EDWARD BICKERSTETH, Rector of Manton, -Hertfordshire, containing Scripture, Help, Treatise on Prayer, the -Christian Hearer, the Chief concerns of Man for Time and Eternity, -Treatise on the Lord’s Supper, and the Christian Student. 1 vol. 8vo. - - -THE LIFE OF ALEXANDER HAMILTON. - -Edited by his son, JOHN C. HAMILTON. 2 vols. royal 8vo. - -“We cordially recommend the perusal and diligent study of these volumes, -exhibiting, as they do, much valuable matter relative to the Revolution, -the establishment of the Federal Constitution, and other important events -in the annals of our country.”—_New York Review._ - - -SCOTLAND and the SCOTCH; OR, THE WESTERN CIRCUIT. - -By CATHERINE SINCLAIR, author of Modern Accomplishments, Modern Society, -&c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -SHETLAND and the SHETLANDERS; OR, THE NORTHERN CIRCUIT. - -By CATHERINE SINCLAIR, author of Scotland and the Scotch, Holiday House, -&c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -THE METROPOLITAN PULPIT; - -Or Sketches of the most Popular Preachers in London. By the author of -Random Recollections, The Great Metropolis, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -HARE’S PAROCHIAL SERMONS. - -Sermons to a Country Congregation. By AUGUSTUS WILLIAM HARE, A.M., late -Fellow of New College and Rector of Alton Barnes. 1 vol. royal 8vo. - -“Any one who can be pleased with delicacy of thought expressed in the -most simple language—any one who can feel the charm of finding practical -duties elucidated and enforced by apt and varied illustrations—will be -delighted with this volume, which presents us with the workings of a -pious and highly gifted mind.”—_Quarterly Review._ - - -Williams’s Missionary Enterprises. - -A Narrative of Missionary Enterprises and Triumphs in the South Seas, -with Remarks upon the Natural History of the Islands, Origin, Language, -Tradition and Usages of the Inhabitants. By the REV. JOHN WILLIAMS, of -the London Missionary Society. Numerous plates. 1 vol. large 12mo. - - -THE FLAG SHIP: Or, a Voyage Round the World, - -In the United States Frigate Columbia attended by her consort, the Sloop -of War John Adams, and bearing the broad pennant of Commodore George C. -Read. By Fitch W. Taylor, Chaplain to the Squadron. 2 vols. 12mo. plates. - - -ELLA V ——: Or the July Tour. By one of the Party. 1 vol. 12mo. - -“He can form a moral on a glass of champagne.”—Le Roy. - - -Missionary’s Farewell. - -By the REV. JOHN WILLIAMS, author of Missionary Enterprises, &c. 1 vol. -18mo. - - -SACRED CHOIR. - -A Collection of Church Music. Edited by GEORGE KINGSLEY, author of Social -Choir, &c. - -“This collection is pronounced by the most eminent professors to be -superior to any published in the country.” - - -Physical Theory of Another Life. - -By ISAAC TAYLOR, author of Natural History of Enthusiasm. Third edition. -1 vol. 12mo. - - -HOME EDUCATION. - -By ISAAC TAYLOR, author of Natural History of Enthusiasm, &c. &c. Second -Edition. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -Limitations of Human Responsibility. - -By FRANCIS WAYLAND, D.D. Second edition. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -The Principles of Diagnosis. - -By MARSHALL HALL, M.D. F.R.S., &c. Second edition, with many -improvements, by DR. JOHN A. SWETT. 1 vol. 8vo. - - -=WORKS BY THE REV. ROBERT PHILIP.= - - -THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF DR. MILNE, MISSIONARY TO CHINA. - -Illustrated by Biographical Annals of Asiatic Missions from Primitive to -Protestant Times, intended as a Guide to Missionary Spirit. By ROBERT -PHILIP. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JOHN BUNYAN, - -Author of the Pilgrim’s Progress. By ROBERT PHILIP. With a fine portrait. -1 vol. 12mo. - - -LADY’S CLOSET LIBRARY, AS FOLLOWS: - - -THE MARYS; - -Or Beauty of Female Holiness. By ROBERT PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -THE MARTHAS; - -Or Varieties of Female Piety. By ROBERT PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -THE LYDIAS; - -Or Development of Female Character. By ROBERT PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -DEVOTIONAL AND EXPERIMENTAL GUIDES, - -By ROBERT PHILIP. With an Introductory Essay by REV. ALBERT BARNES. 2 -vols. 12mo. Containing - - Guide to the Perplexed. - Do do Devotional. - Do do Thoughtful. - Do do Doubting. - Do do Conscientious. - Do do Redemption. - - -YOUNG MAN’S CLOSET LIBRARY. - -By ROBERT PHILIP With an Introductory Essay by REV. ALBERT BARNES. 1 vol. -12mo. - - -LOVE OF THE SPIRIT, - -Traced in his Work: a Companion to the Experimental Guides. By ROBERT -PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -_Shortly will be Published_, - -THE HANNAHS. - -Being a continuation of the Lady’s Closet Library, forming the Maternal -portion of the series. - - -=WORKS BY THE REV. JOHN A. JAMES.= - - -Pastoral Addresses: - -By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. With an Introduction by the REV. WM. ADAMS. 1 -vol. 18mo. - -Contents.—The increased Holiness of the Church. Spirituality of Mind. -Heavenly Mindedness. Assurance of Hope. Practical Religion wisest in -every thing. How to spend a Profitable Sabbath. Christian Obligations. -Life of Faith. Influence of Older Christians. The Spirit of Prayer. -Private Prayer. Self-Examination. - - -THE YOUNG MAN FROM HOME. - -In a series of Letters, especially directed for the Moral Advancement of -Youth. By the REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. Fifth edition. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -The Anxious Enquirer after Salvation - -Directed and Encouraged. By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -The Christian Professor. - -Addressed in a series of Counsels and Cautions to the Members of -Christian Churches. By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -Happiness, its Nature and Sources. - -By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. - - -THE WIDOW DIRECTED - -To the Widow’s God. By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. - - -DISCOURSES ON THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. - -Select Discourses on the Functions of the Nervous System, in opposition -to Phrenology, Materialism and Atheism; to which is prefixed a Lecture -on the Diversities of the Human Character, arising from Physiological -Peculiarities. By JOHN AUGUSTINE SMITH, M.D. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -Thoughts in Affliction. - -By the REV. A. S. THELWALL A.M. To which is added _Bereaved Parents -Consoled_, by JOHN THORNTON, with _Sacred Poetry_. 1 vol. 32mo. - - -=WORKS BY THE REV. DR. SPRAGUE.= - - -True and False Religion. - -Lectures illustrating the Contrast between True Christianity and various -other systems. By WILLIAM B. SPRAGUE, D.D. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -Lectures on Revivals - -In Religion. By W. B. SPRAGUE, D.D. With an Introductory Essay by LEONARD -WOODS, D.D. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -Letters to a Daughter, - -On Practical Subjects. By W. B. SPRAGUE, D.D. Fourth edition, revised and -enlarged. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -Lectures to Young People. - -By W. B. SPRAGUE, D.D. With an Introductory Address by SAMUEL MILLER, -D.D. Fourth edition. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -MY SON’S MANUAL. - -Comprising a Summary View of the Studies, Accomplishments, and Principles -of Conduct, best suited for Promoting Respectability and Success in Life. -Elegantly engraved frontispiece. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -MY DAUGHTER’S MANUAL. - -Comprising a Summary View of Female Studies, Accomplishments and -Principles of Conduct. Beautiful frontispiece. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -GRIFFIN’S REMAINS: - -Remains of the Rev. Edmund D. Griffin. Compiled by FRANCIS GRIFFIN. With -a Memoir by REV. DR. MCVICAR. 2 vols, 8vo. - - -HODGE ON THE STEAM-ENGINE. - -The Steam Engine, its Origin and Gradual Improvement from the time of -Hero to the present day, as adapted to Manufactures, Locomotion and -Navigation. Illustrated with forty-eight plates in full detail, numerous -wood cuts, &c. By PAUL R. HODGE, C. E. 1 vol. folio of plates and -letter-press in 8vo. - -“In this work the best Western and Eastern machinery, as applied to -navigation, together with the most approved locomotive engines in this -country and Europe, are given in detail, forming the most valuable work -for the practical man ever published.” - - - - -APPLETON’S TALES FOR THE PEOPLE - -=And their Children.= - -The greatest care is taken in selecting the works of which the collection -is composed, so that nothing either mediocre in talent, or immoral in -tendency, is admitted. Each volume is printed in the finest paper, is -illustrated with an elegant frontispiece, and is bound in a superior -manner, tastefully ornamented. - -The following have already appeared uniform in size and style: - - -=WHO SHALL BE GREATEST?= A Tale: by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol. 18mo., plates. - -“The great moral lesson inculcated by this book is indicated by its -title; and while it is prominent enough through the whole volume, it -comes out at the close with most impressive effect. We need not say it -is a lesson which every human being is the wiser and the better for -learning. We cordially recommend the work to all who would desire to form -a sober and rational estimate of the world’s enjoyments.”—_Albany Evening -Journal._ - - -=SOWING AND REAPING=: or What will Come of It? by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol. -18mo., plates. - -“We commenced it with the intention of just looking it over for the -purpose of writing a cursory notice; but we began to read, and so we -went on to the finis. It is very interesting: the characters are full of -individuality.”—_New-Bedford Mercury._ - - -=STRIVE AND THRIVE=: a Tale by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol. 18mo., plates. - -“The mere announcement of the name of the authoress, will doubtless -bring any of her productions to the immediate notice of the public; but -Strive and Thrive is not a book for children only, but can be read with -pleasure and advantage by those of a more mature age. It fully sustains -the reputation of its predecessors. The style is easy and flowing, the -language chaste and beautiful, and the incidents of the tale calculated -to keep up the interest to the end.”—_New-York Courier & Enquirer._ - - -=HOPE ON, HOPE EVER=: or the Boyhood of Felix Law: by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol. -18mo. - -“A very neat volume with the above title, and the farther annunciation -that it may be called Tales for the People and their Children, has been -written by Mary Howitt, whose name is so favourably known to the reading -community.” - -“This volume like all others that emanate from the pen of this lady, -is extremely interesting; the characters are naturally drawn, while -the feeling and passion displayed, give the work a higher rank than is -usually allotted to Nursery Tales.”—_Commercial Advertiser._ - - -=THE LOOKING GLASS FOR THE MIND=: or Intellectual Mirror, being an -elegant collection of the most delightful little stories and interesting -tales: chiefly translated from that much admired work L’ami des Enfans; -with numerous wood cuts—the twentieth edition. 1 vol. 18mo. - -The stories here collected are of a most interesting character, since -virtue is constantly represented as the fountain of happiness, and vice -as the source of every evil—as a useful and instructive Looking Glass, we -recommend it for the instruction of every youth, whether Miss or Master; -it is a _mirror_ that will not flatter them or lead them into error; it -displays the follies and improper pursuits of youthful hearts, points -out the dangerous paths they sometimes tread, and clears the way to the -_temple of honour and fame_. - - -=THE SETTLERS AT HOME=: by HARRIET MARTINEAU. 1 vol. 18mo. - -“The circumstances under which this little volume, for the amusement -of children, has been produced, give an additional charm to its truth, -simplicity, and feeling. The tale, though in one passage sorrowful enough -to moisten many a pair of eyes, is full of interest and character. The -latter, we may add, is as much appreciated by children as the former; and -they will take as lively an interest in Ailwin’s ignorant and unselfish -fidelity and her stalwart arms, and in Roger Redfurn the gipsy boy’s -gleams of better nature, as in the developement of the main incident of -the book, a disastrous flood which spread devastation over the Isle of -Axholme two hundred years ago.”—_Athenæum._ - -“The early tales of Miss Martineau, written to inculcate and illustrate, -by practical examples, the truths of political economy, will survive -her later and more controversial works. So in this little story of -the History and ill-treatment of some Dutch settlers, in the fens -of Lincolnshire—during the wars of the Parliament because they were -strangers, and because, moreover, they interfered with the wild and -ague-shaken gunners and fishermen of the fens,—we see again the same -shrewdness of observation—the same real interest in the welfare of the -humble classes—the same sagacity, and occasional natural pathos, which -rendered the politico-economical tracts so attractive, in despite of -their name and subject.”—_New-York American._ - - -=EARLY FRIENDSHIP=: a Tale by MRS. COPLEY. 1 vol. 18mo., plates. - -In introducing the name of a new writer to this series of popular -works, the publishers cannot but express their desire that all who have -purchased previous volumes, will buy this, being assured it will commend -itself to the reader so that the name of Mrs. Copley will soon, like the -name of _Howitt_, be a passport to the notice and favour of the whole -reading community. - - -=FAMILY SECRETS=: or Hints to those who would make Home Happy, by Mrs. -ELLIS, author of “The Women of England,” “Poetry of Life,” etc. - -“The tendency of this book is one of the best and noblest. The scenes -and characters are, it is believed, portraits. Aiming as it does at the -correction of a too prevalent vice—it is expected that the Family Secrets -will command amongst the serious and thinking part of the community as -extensive a popularity as Nicholas Nickleby does in its peculiar circle.” - - -=PAST DAYS=; a Story for Children. By ESTHER WHITLOCK. Square 18mo. - -“It is a delightful, instructive little book; and if the child, when -she closes the volume, find her ‘eyes red with weeping,’ let her not be -ashamed; one old enough to be her grandfather, caught the same disease -from the same source.”—_Philadelphia United States Gazette._ - - -HAZEN’S SYMBOLICAL SPELLING-BOOK. - -The Symbolical Spelling Book, in two parts. By EDWARD HAZEN. Containing -288 engravings, printed on good paper. - -“This work is already introduced into upwards of one thousand different -schools, and pronounced to be one of the best works published.” - - -Lafever’s Modern Architecture. - -Beauties of Modern Architecture; consisting of Forty-eight Plates of -Original Designs, with Plans, Elevations and Sections, also a Dictionary -of Technical Terms, the whole forming a complete Manual for the Practical -Business Man. By M. LAFEVER, Architect. 1 vol. large 8vo. half bound. - - -Lafever’s Stair-Case and Hand-Rail Construction. - -The Modern Practice of Stair-Case and Hand-Rail Construction, practically -explained in a series of Designs. By M. LAFEVER, Architect. With Plans -and Elevations for Ornamental Villas. Fifteen plates. 1 vol. large 8vo. - - -Keightly’s Mythology for Schools. - -The Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy, designed for the use of -Schools. By THOMAS KEIGHTLY. Numerous wood cut illustrations. 1 vol. -18mo. half bound. - - -POLYMICRIAN NEW TESTAMENT. - -Numerous References, Maps, &c. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -A GIFT FROM FAIRY-LAND. - -By J. K. PAULDING, Esq. Illustrated with one hundred unique original -plates by Chapman. Elegantly bound. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -☞ _Preparing for Publication._ - - -LEARN TO LIVE. - -Disce Vivere, Learn to Live; wherein is shown that the Life of Christ -is, and ought to be, an express Pattern for imitation unto the life of a -Christian. By CHRISTOPHER SUTTON, DD., sometime Prebend of Westminster. 1 -vol. 16mo. elegantly printed. - - -The Early English Church; - -By the Rev. EDWARD CHURTON, A.M. 1 vol. 16mo. With a Preface by the Right -Rev. Bishop IVES. - - -PALMER’S TREATISE on the CHURCH. - -A TREATISE ON THE CHURCH OF CHRIST, - -Designed chiefly for the use of Students in Theology. By the REV. WILLIAM -PALMER, M.A., of Worcester College, Oxford. Edited, with Notes, by the -Right REV. W. R. WHITTINGHAM, D.D., Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal -Church in the diocese of Maryland. 2 vols. 8vo. Handsomely printed on -fine paper. - - -The Beauties of the Country; - -By THOMAS MILLER; author of “Rural Sketches,” “Day in the Woods,” &c. - - -HISTORY OF NAPOLEON, - -From the French of M. LAURENT DE L’ARDECHE. With Five Hundred -Illustrations, after Designs by HORACE VERNET. 2 vols. 8vo. - - -The Selected Beauties of British Poetry, - -With Biographical and Critical Notices, and an Essay on English Poetry. -By THOMAS CAMPBELL. One handsome volume, royal 8vo. - - -LYRI APOSTOLICI. - -From the last London edition. 1 vol. 16mo. elegantly printed. - - -Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. - -By DANIEL DEFOE. With Three Hundred Illustrations; after Designs by -GRANDVILLE. 1 vol. 8vo. - - -THE PHILOSOPHICAL HISTORY OF MANKIND. - -From the German of HERDER. - - -RANKE’S REFORMATION IN GERMANY, - -The History of the Reformation in Germany. By LEOPOLD VON RANKE, author -of the History of the Popes. Translated by SARAH AUSTEN. - - - - -_Recently Published._ - - -The Sacred Choir: - -A COLLECTION OF CHURCH MUSIC. - -Consisting of Selections from the most distinguished authors, among whom -are the names of HAYDN, MOZART, BEETHOVEN, PERGOLESSI, &c. &c.; with -several pieces of Music by the author; also a Progressive Elementary -System of Instruction for Pupils. By GEORGE KINGSLEY, author of the -Social Choir, &c. &c. Fourth edition. - -☞ The following are among the many favourable opinions expressed of this -work. - - _From L. Meignen, Professor of Music, Philadelphia._ - - “G. Kingsley, - - “Sir,—I have carefully perused the copy of your new work, and - it is with the greatest pleasure that I now tell you that I - have been highly gratified with the reading of many of its - pieces. The harmony throughout is full, effective and correct; - the melodies are well selected and well adapted; and I have no - doubt, that when known and appreciated, this work will be found - in the library of every choir whose director feels, as many do, - the want of a complete reformation in that department of music. - Believe me, dear sir, - - “Yours respectfully, - - “L. Meignen.” - - _From Mr. B. Denman, President of the David Sacred - Music Society, Philadelphia, to George Kingsley._ - - “Dear sir,—Having examined your ‘Sacred Choir,’ I feel much - pleasure in recommending it as the very best collection of - Church Music I have ever seen. It combines the beauties of - other books of the kind, with some decided improvements in - selection, arrangement and composition, and commends itself - to the choir, the parlour and social circle. Wishing you the - success your valuable and well-arranged work merits, I am, sir, - - “Yours respectfully.” - - _From the Committee of the Choir of Yale College._ - - “Sir,—We have been using for some time past your new - publication in the choir with which we are connected. We take - pleasure in stating to you our entire satisfaction with the - manner in which it has been compiled and harmonized, and would - willingly recommend it to any of the associations desiring a - collection of Sacred Music of a sterling character and original - matter. The melodies are quite varied and of an unusually - pleasing character; and uniting, as they do, the devotional - with the pleasing, we have no hesitation in giving them our - preference to any other collection of a similar character at - present in use among the churches.” - - _From Three Leaders of Choirs._ - - “Mr. George Kingsley. - - “Sir—We have examined the ‘Sacred Choir’ enough to lead us to - appreciate the work as the best publication of Sacred Music - extant. It is beautifully printed and substantially bound, - conferring credit on the publishers. We bespeak for the ‘Sacred - Music Choir’ an extensive circulation. - - Sincerely yours, - - “O. S. Bowdoin. - “E. O. Goodwin. - “D. Ingraham.” - - - - -EMPORIUM FOR STANDARD LITERATURE, - -English and American. - - -D. 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Silliman. - </title> - - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - - <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ - -a { - text-decoration: none; -} - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -h1,h2,h3 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -h2.nobreak { - page-break-before: avoid; -} - -hr { - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb { - width: 45%; - margin-left: 27.5%; - margin-right: 27.5%; -} - -hr.chap { - width: 65%; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; -} - -img.w100 { - width: 100%; -} - -div.chapter { - page-break-before: always; -} - -ul { - list-style-type: none; -} - -li { - margin-top: .5em; - padding-left: 2em; - text-indent: -2em; -} - -p { - margin-top: 0.5em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -table { - margin: 1em auto 1em auto; - max-width: 40em; - border-collapse: collapse; -} - -td { - padding-left: 2.25em; - padding-right: 0.25em; - vertical-align: top; - text-indent: -2em; -} - -.tdr { - text-align: right; -} - -.tdpg { - vertical-align: bottom; - text-align: right; -} - -.book { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-size: 120%; - margin-top: 1.5em; -} - -.blockquote { - margin: 1.5em 10%; -} - -.center { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.ditto { - margin-left: 1em; - margin-right: 2em; -} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.footnotes { - margin-top: 1em; - 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; -} - -.gothic { - font-family: 'Old English Text MT', 'Old English', serif; -} - -.hanging { - padding-left: 2em; - text-indent: -2em; -} - -.inscription { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - line-height: 1.5em; -} - -.larger { - font-size: 150%; -} - -.noindent { - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.nw { - white-space: nowrap; -} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: 4%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; -} - -.poetry-container { - text-align: center; -} - -.kidd-poem { - margin: 0; -} - -.poetry { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; -} - -.poetry .stanza { - margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; -} - -.poetry .verse { - padding-left: 3em; -} - -.poetry .indent0 { - text-indent: -3em; -} - -.poetry .indent2 { - text-indent: -2em; -} - -.poetry .indent10 { - text-indent: 2em; -} - -.sidenote { - width: 20%; - padding: 0.5em; - margin-right: 1em; - float: left; - clear: left; - font-size: smaller; - color: black; - background: #eeeeee; - border: dashed 1px; -} - -.right { - text-align: right; -} - -.smaller { - font-size: 80%; -} - -.smcap { - font-variant: small-caps; - font-style: normal; -} - -.allsmcap { - font-variant: small-caps; - font-style: normal; - text-transform: lowercase; -} - -.titlepage { - text-align: center; - margin-top: 3em; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.tb { - margin-top: 2em; -} - -.valign { - vertical-align: middle; -} - -.x-ebookmaker img { - max-width: 100%; - width: auto; - height: auto; -} - -.x-ebookmaker .poetry { - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; -} - -.x-ebookmaker .blockquote { - margin: 1.5em 5%; -} - -/* Illustration classes */ -.illowp100 {width: 100%;} - - /* ]]> */ </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A gallop among American scenery, by Augustus E. Silliman</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A gallop among American scenery</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>or, Sketches of American scenes and military adventure</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Augustus E. Silliman</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 7, 2022 [eBook #69111]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GALLOP AMONG AMERICAN SCENERY ***</div> - -<h1><span class="smaller"><span class="smaller">A</span><br /> -GALLOP<br /> -<span class="smaller">AMONG</span></span><br /> -AMERICAN SCENERY:<br /> -<span class="smaller"><span class="smaller">OR,</span><br /> -SKETCHES<br /> -<span class="smaller">OF</span><br /> -AMERICAN SCENES AND MILITARY ADVENTURE</span></h1> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br /> -AUGUSTUS E. SILLIMAN.</p> - -<div class="figcenter titlepage illowp100" id="titlepage" style="max-width: 31.25em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">NEW-YORK:</span><br /> -D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY.</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smaller">PHILADELPHIA:</span><br /> -GEO. S. APPLETON, 148 CHESNUT STREET.</p> - -<p class="center smaller">M DCCC XLIII.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843,<br /> -<span class="smaller">BY D. APPLETON AND CO.,</span><br /> -In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Southern District of<br /> -New-York.</p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">H. LUDWIG, PRINTER,<br /> -72 Vesey-st., N. Y.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="center">TO<br /> -BENJAMIN D. SILLIMAN,<br /> -THIS<br /> -LITTLE VOLUME<br /> -IS<br /> -AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED,<br /> -BY<br /> -HIS BROTHER.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p>A number of the following Sketches have appeared at intervals -in the columns of the New-York American.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS.</h2> - -</div> - -<table> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Banks of the Potomac</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BANKS_OF_THE_POTOMAC">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">The Country Pastor</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#THE_COUNTRY_PASTOR">8</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">III.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Mount Vernon</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#MOUNT_VERNON">13</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IV.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Medical Student</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#THE_MEDICAL_STUDENT">25</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">V.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">The Resurrectionists</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#THE_RESURRECTIONISTS">39</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VI.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Old Kennedy, No. I.</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#OLD_KENNEDY_I">44</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VII.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Old Kennedy, No. II.</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#OLD_KENNEDY_II">53</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Old Kennedy, No. III.</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#OLD_KENNEDY_III">59</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IX.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Old Kennedy, No. IV.</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#OLD_KENNEDY_IV">68</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">X.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Lee’s Partisan Legion</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#LEES_PARTISAN_LEGION">78</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XI.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Hudson River</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#HUDSON_RIVER">107</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XII.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Night Attack on Fort Erie</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#NIGHT_ATTACK_ON_FORT_ERIE">113</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Battle of Lundy’s Lane</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BATTLE_OF_LUNDYS_LANE">120</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIV.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Lake George and Ticonderoga</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#LAKE_GEORGE_AND_TICONDEROGA">131</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XV.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Montreal</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#MONTREAL">139</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVI.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">The Nun</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#THE_NUN">144</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVII.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Cataracts of Niagara</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CATARACTS_OF_NIAGARA">148</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVIII.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Mount Holyoke</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#MOUNT_HOLYOKE">155</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIX.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">White Mountains</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#WHITE_MOUNTAINS">160</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XX.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Bass Fishing off Newport</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BASS_FISHING_OFF_NEWPORT">169</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXI.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Brenton’s Reef</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BRENTONS_REEF">176</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXII.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Old Trinity Steeple</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#OLD_TRINITY_STEEPLE">185</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIII.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Long Island Sound</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#LONG_ISLAND_SOUND">201</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIV.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Green-Wood Cemetery</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#GREEN-WOOD_CEMETERY">220</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"></td> - <td><span class="smcap">Appendix</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#APPENDIX">233</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BANKS_OF_THE_POTOMAC">BANKS OF THE POTOMAC.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>No.—State-street—(storm without)—apartment -strewed with sundry bachelor appurtenances, fronting -on the Battery—a gentleman, in dressing-gown and -embroidered slippers, measuring the room with hasty -strides—exclaimeth impatiently—</p> - -<p>North-east by the flags of the shipping in the bay! -North-east by the chill rain dashing on the window -panes! North-east by the weather-cocks on all the -steeples, from St. Paul’s to the dog-vane on the stable -end! <i>North-east</i> by the ache of every bone in my body! -Eheu! What’s to be done? No going abroad in this -torrent. I’ve read all the landlady’s little library. -How shall I kill the enemy? I’ll whistle; vulgar. -Sing; I can’t. There are the foils and the gloves. -Pshaw! I have no friend to pommel or pink; besides, -the old lady in the room below, has nerves. Whew! -how it pours. I’ll—I’ll—stand and look out into the -street. Jupiter! how near the bread-cart came to -going over the chimney sweep. Poor Sooty—how he -grins! He owes the worm no silk—whatever obligations -his rags may be under to the sheep. Poor -fellow! Holloa! ho! blackey; catch this quarter, -and get you a hot breakfast. There goes that confounded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span> -battery gate again! bang—bang—night and -day. There’s never a loafer takes his morning promenade, -or even siesta on the grass, but must needs -follow his dirty face through that particular gate.</p> - -<p>Alas! me miserable. What shall I do? The spirit -of ennui rides me as thoroughly as did the “old man -of the sea” Sinbad the sailor. Eh! they’re the dumb -bells. Diminish nervous excitability, by muscular -exertion. Good!—humph; and there’s the old lady’s -nerves below. How the wind roars and rumbles -round the chimney tops. Rain—rain—rain. There! -that tin spout is choked, and the gutter is pouring over -a young cataract. Oh! that I were a newspaper -carrier, or a whale—or the sea serpent, chasing the -down East fishermen—or—in short, any thing, so that -I need not mind the wet. Hum—hum—what shall I -do? I have it. Eureka! I have it. I’ll sit down -and give my friend of the American an account of my -last ramble.</p> - -<p>(Rolleth his chair up to the table at the fire—crosseth -his legs on the fender—and proceedeth to nib his -pen.) Now for it. (Writes.)</p> - -<p class="tb">You well recollect, my dear Mr. Editor, the arguments -that I used, to induce you to make a short journey -to the South with me last summer; and your answer, -“I can’t leave the paper.” You well recollect that I -urged that we were not born to work alone; that life<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span> -was short; that sixteen or sixty, its term was but a -flash; that we were rushing on with increased velocity -to that bourne, whose sands are marked, by no -returning foot-print—that bourne where the sceptre -and diadem of the monarch lie contemptuously hurled -with the goad and chain of the slave—where, their -service ended, the broken wain of the yeoman, and the -grim cannon of the soldier, interlock their shattered -wheels; the bayonet and pruning-hook—the sword -and the ploughshare rest without a name. You well -recollect that I reproached you, the rather, with too -great love for the green fields and giant elms around -your cottage at Elizabethtown; that I swore by my -faith! and I believed in the doctrine of Pythagoras, that -I should look to see thy immortal part, transferred on -its exit, from its present habitation to one of those huge -trees towering into the blue ether; that there, in the -sunny mornings of summer, for sonnets which do enliven -thy columns, I should hear the joyous call of -the robin—the shrill whistle of the scarlet oriole; for -sparkling wit,—the dew of night glittering on thy -leaves in the early sunbeams; for wise old saws, and -dreamy legends, venerable moss gathering upon thy -trunk and branches, while, alike in the evening wind -or howling blast, thou shouldest stand firm against -casuistry or dictation. “Wilt go? Wilt join me?”—with -soft persuasion murmured I. “The paper—the -paper—the pa—per,” quoth thou. “Presto,” quoth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> -<i>I</i>—and without more ado started in my usual heels-over-head -fashion, alone on my journey.</p> - -<p>I swept over the broad breast of the Delaware-dashed -down the enemy insulted Chesapeake—bounded -through the city of riots and beauty, and came down -on my feet at the cottage of my whole-souled friend, -Tom B——, on the banks of the Potomac. The afternoon -of my arrival was warm and still, and every thing -in nature, even the birds, seemed wrapped in indolent -repose. Slowly sauntering through the long vistas of -sycamores and elms, which adorned the grounds in -picturesque avenues, the airy East Indian cottage of my -friend suddenly broke upon my sight, peering from -a whole load of flowering vines and sweet briars, -tall white lilies, and moss roses, from thick beds of -myrtle at their feet, climbing into the half open lattices, -while two towering pines almost crossed their extended -branches above its lowly roof. I stole quietly -through the open door, examining the choice Italian -landscapes hanging upon the walls of the airy grass-matted -hall,—slid through the drawing-rooms, stopping -for a moment to scan the crouching Venus and dying -Gladiator on their pedestals; to admire the exquisite -Magdalen of Carlo Dolce—the lovely Claude, the -Cenci, and Flora beneath their silken tassels,—and -coming out upon the verandah overlooking the river, -suspended in his grass hammock, found master Tom, -enjoying his luxurious siesta. His double-barrelled gun<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> -and game-bag—his linen shooting jacket, huge sombrero, -and hunting-boots, were tumbled promiscuously -in one corner of the piazza,—while half a dozen fine -plover, turning up their plump breasts, a partridge, and -some score of yellow-legged snipe, with the powder-flask -and shot-belt, were thrown across the back of the -rustic settee, trophies of his morning’s sport, beneath -which, with their noses extended between their legs in -like luxurious repose, lay the huge old Newfoundlander, -“Bernard,” and his favourite pointer, “Soho.”</p> - -<p>The mild breeze bore in the sweet perfume of the -honey-suckle from a neighbouring arbour, and the -broad Potomac, stretched tranquilly onwards, undisturbed -save by the occasional jibe of the boom, or -lazy creak of the rudder of some craft, reflected with -her white sails upon its surface. The garden, with its -white-gravelled walks, bordered with box, descended -in parterres to the river’s edge—an embroidered carpet -of flowers; and lemon and orange trees, released from -their winter’s confinement, displayed their golden fruit, -hanging amid the green leaves in tempting profusion. -I bent over and looked into the hammock, and could -not but admire the serenity of the manly features, the -measured heave of the broad chest, and the masses of -raven locks, playing around the white forehead of the -sleeper, as they were slowly lifted by the play of the -passing wind. I thought it were a sin to disturb him, -so drawing out my cigar case, I stretched myself on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span> -the settee at his side, complacently reclining my head -upon its arm. Whiles watching the blue smoke of my -“Regalia,” as it slowly wreathed and floated above my -head—whiles watching the still dreamy flow of the -river—and whiles—if I must confess it—cogitating -which had been the wisest, myself the bachelor, or -Tom the married man,—Tom, myself, the dogs, forming -a tolerably correct picture of <i>still</i> life,—a still life -that remained unbroken for some half hour, when -through the glass door of the drawing-room a beautiful -boy of three or four years came galloping into the -piazza, and bounding towards the dogs, threw himself -full length upon the shaggy Newfoundlander, manfully -striving to pull open his huge jaws with his little hands. -The Newfoundlander opening his eyes, saw me, and -raising himself on his legs, gave a low growl; while -the child, relinquishing his hold upon the ears to which -he had clung, as the dog rose to his feet, came slowly -up to me, and placing his plump little hands upon my -knee, looked curiously and inquiringly into my face, -his golden locks falling in a profusion of ringlets down -his superb sunburnt shoulders. I was charmed with -the confidence, and innocence, and sweetness beaming -from his gaze, and took him upon my knee, his hand -playing with my watch guard, while his beautiful blue -eyes remained fixed in the same look of curious inquiry -on mine. I said it was a picture of <i>still</i> life. Tom, -aroused by the dog, slowly lifted his head over the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span> -edge of the hammock, rubbed his eyes as if uncertain -whether he were in a dream, as I calmly and silently -returned his astonished gaze, and then, with a single -swing, was at my side, both of my hands clasped in -his. The next moment, I fancy the picture was other -than <i>still</i> life.</p> - -<p>Why should I tell you of the tea-table, loaded with -delicacies in the matted hall, as the soft evening sun-set -poured its last rays through it? of the symmetrical -figure clad in snowy whiteness—the Grecian features, -the dark Andalusian eyes, beaming with kindness from -behind the glittering silver at its head? Why, that the -youngster tied by the handkerchief in the high chair at -his mother’s side, pertinaciously kicked his tiny red -shoes about him in frolic glee, while my little knight of -the golden locks, did the duty of the trencher at his -father’s elbow? Why, that as the shades of evening -faded into twilight, that the young gentry were snugly -ensconced in their little bed, the mother’s soft cheek -pressed against the forehead of the eldest as he lisped -his evening prayer? and why, as soon “like twin -roses on one stalk,” as they were wrapped in innocent -slumber, we sat in the fading twilight, talking over old -scenes and boyish recollections, retracing our steps -back to those days which, softened by the lapse of time, -appear divested of every thing save brightness and sunshine? -why but to tell you that we were aroused from -those retrospections, by the sound of the church-going -bell, musically chiming in the distance.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_COUNTRY_PASTOR">THE COUNTRY PASTOR.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>The slow tolling—now almost dying away, and now -striking more strongly upon the ear—arose from the -church in the neighbouring town, where my friends -were in the habit of worshipping, and where they were -to have the opportunity on that evening of hearing the -voice of their time-honoured pastor—an opportunity -which his great age and increasing infirmities had made -equally rare and valuable. I gladly accepted the invitation -to join them, as, aside from a desire to see the -aged man, of whom I had so often heard, if there is a -time for devotion more consonant to my feelings than -another, it is when the quietness and serenity of a summer’s -evening dispel all external impressions, and -every thing appears in unison with harmony and benevolence.</p> - -<p>As we walked the short half mile between the cottage -and the church, the stars shone in beauty amid the -still rosy tints of the west—the night-hawk stooped -towards us, as he wheeled in his airy circles—the -whip-poor-will in the adjoining meadows sounded his -mournful note, and the crickets, with the chirping frogs -in the neighbouring ponds, sustained a ceaseless chorus. -Arrived at the church-yard, we picked our way<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> -among the old brown tomb-stones, their quaint devices, -contrasted here and there with others of more modern -pretensions in white marble, and entering the church, -took our seats in silence. We were early; but as -the church gradually filled, it was interesting to watch -group after group, as it noiselessly measured the aisles, -and sunk quietly upon the cushioned seats. Now and -then a pair of bright eyes would glance curiously -around from beneath a gay bonnet, and a stray tress -be thrown hastily aside; but alas! those clad in the -habiliments of wo, too, too often moved, phantom-like, -to their places; the lights, as they threw a momentary -glare on their pale and care-worn faces, making more -dark the badges which affection has assumed as a -tame index of inward grief. The slow toll of the bell -ceased—the silence became more deep;—an occasional -cough—the rustling of a dress—the turn of a -leaf alone breaking the perfect stillness.</p> - -<p>The low tones of the organ rose gently and sweetly, -and the voluntary floated softly and mist-like over the -assembly; now rising, and falling, and undulating, with -like dreamy harmony, as if the Æolian harp were -answering, with the passing airs playing among its -strings, the ocean gently laving her pebbly shores; then -gradually rising and increasing in depth, it grandly and -solemnly ascended upwards, till thrown back, reverberated -from the walls of the circular dome above us, it -rolled away in deep and distant thunders. All became<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> -again silent. The venerable form of a man of four-score -years, his hair bleached with the sorrows of -eighty winters, rose slowly in the pulpit, and as, with -eyes closed, yet lifted to Heaven, he feebly supported -himself with outstretched arms upon its cushion, we -heard almost in a whisper, “Let us pray, my brethren,” -fall tremulously from his lips. Nought, but the perfect -stillness, enabled us at first to hear the sentences pronounced -with evident and painful effort; but as he -advanced in prayer, that almost whisper, became firm -and distinct, and his pallid cheek lighted up with a -hectic flush, as he waxed eloquent in the presence of -his Maker.</p> - -<p>His venerable features appeared to glow almost with -inspiration, as he drew near the throne of the Holy -One; and the hearts of the mourners beat more calmly, -as they felt themselves carried into the presence of -Him that suffered. More thoughtless than the swallow -that skims the summer skies, must he have been, who -could have heard that prayer, and not have joined with -reverence in its solemnity. His closing words still -ring upon my ear, and long will remain stamped upon -my memory.</p> - -<p>“My children—your fathers, and your fathers’ -fathers have listened to my voice. Generations have -passed by me to their long account, and still I have -been left, and still my voice hath arisen from this holy -place. Wo! wo is me, if my Master hath looked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> -upon me as a slack and unworthy servant to his people. -My children—but a few short days, and this trembling -voice that still strives to teach his blessed will, -shall be hushed in that sleep which the Archangel’s -trump alone shall break—this tottering form be laid -beneath the mould from whence it came, there to -remain till that trump shall demand its presence at the -judgment seat. But with the last tones of this quivering -voice, with the last grasp of these trembling hands, -I extend to you the sacred volume, as your guide to -happiness in this, your only light into the world to -come.</p> - -<p>“The sneers of human reason and vain philosophy -shall desert you assuredly, my children, as you stand -upon the edge of that awful precipice, where each of -you <i>alone</i> must take the fated plunge into the deep darkness -of the future—but this, this shall make clear your -passage as brightest noon-day. My children—I look -back upon you as I speak—my hand is on the door-latch—my -foot upon the threshold—oh! when your -short days like mine are numbered, may you with the -same reliance in his mercy, say, Lo, blessed Master, -we stand without—receive us into thy kingdom.”</p> - -<p>As the service ended, it was good to see the kind-hearted -feeling, with which the congregation gathered -around the venerable man—for he was pure, and sincere, -and true; and of a verity, as he said, his voice -had arisen among them above the infant’s wail, at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> -baptismal font—had joined them with cheerfulness at -the marriage feast, and still been heard in solemn sympathy -at the side of the dark and silent grave. It was -the last time that he addressed them. Not many days, -and another voice pronounced the burial service of the -dead in that green church-yard, and the form of the -good old man was covered from their sight beneath its -sod.</p> - -<p>As we returned to our cottage home, the crescent -moon was streaming in silvery brightness, the constellations -and galaxy resplendent with “living fires,” -and the far, far worlds rolling in immeasurable distance, -as twinkling stars trembled upon our human vision. -The dews of night were moist upon the grass, as we -re-measured the lawn that led to the cottage; where, -after planning our visit for the following morning to -Mount Vernon, we soon were wrapped in contented and -grateful repose.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="MOUNT_VERNON">MOUNT VERNON.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>The sun raised himself in a huge globe of fire above -the eastern horizon, as my friend’s spirited bays stood -saddled at the door of the cottage, pawing, champing -the bit, and playfully endeavouring to bite the black -boy who held them. Finishing an early breakfast, we -were soon in our saddles and full gallop on our journey; -the dogs in an ecstacy of delight, bounding along at -our sides, overhauling and putting in bodily terror -every unfortunate cur that came in their way, as they -sportively tumbled him over and over in curious examination; -old Bernard, with glistening eyes and wagging -tail, bestriding in grim fun the prostrate form of the -enemy. We passed rapidly through the rough paved -streets of Alexandria, watching eagerly for its famed -beauties at their casements, and clearing the town, -were soon on the rustic road that leads to the sacred -place of America.</p> - -<p>The meadows were glistening in the morning dew; -the sweet perfume of the clover filled the air; the -white daisy and delicate cowslip danced over their -luxuriant grassy beds, as the fresh morning breeze -fanned them in its passage; and amid the sea of melody -high above the merry gossip of the bob-link, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> -chattering volubility of the mocking-bird, his yellow -spotted breast swelling with delight, his keen eye gazing -into the distance, the saucy “<i>you-can’t-see-me</i>” of -the meadow lark sounded in merry challenge, while -the clear “whew-whew-it” of the quail from the golden -wheat-field, was echoed by his eager companion far -down in the green vales, as they stretched softly and -gently into the distance, in the long shadows of the -early morning. Oh! let him that would scan the benevolence -of the Creator, leave his restless bed in the -sweltering city, and walk forth with the day in its -youth,—for verily, like man, it hath its youth, its manhood -and its old age—and the sweetness of morning -is the youth of the day.</p> - -<p>The hedges on the road side were covered with a -tangled mass of verdure, from which wild vines and -green ivy crept to the surrounding trees, wreathing -gracefully their trunks and branches. The undergrowth -was loaded with wild roses and honeysuckles. -The graceful fleur-de-lis, curving its blue flowers, -trembled upon the green banks, and the pond-lily floating -on its watery bed, threw forth its grateful fragrance, -as we occasionally passed through the swampy bottoms. -Fat cattle grazed indolently in the meadows; while -now and then, as we cantered by their pastures, the -horses, with tails and manes erect, accompanied us on -our journey, till arriving at their confines, with eager -neighing, they would look after us, throw their heels<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -high in the air, and gallop down into the broad fields in -the very jollity of freedom. Every thing seemed contented -and joyous. The hearty, happy-looking negroes, -trudging along to their agricultural labours, doffed their -hats to us, with a cheerful “good morning,” as we passed, -or laughingly displayed their white teeth and big -eyes, as they led the dew-wet horse to the bars to -mount and drive to the milking the smooth, fat kine. -A ride of an hour brought us to the woods that adjoin -Mount Vernon, which are cleared of undergrowth, but -in other respects as wild and untamed as if naught but -the savage had ever placed foot in them. Silence -reigned through the deep glades, unbroken, save by -the hoofs of our horses as they resounded with hollow -echo; the sharp chirp of the squirrel, jumping among -the dry leaves; or the quick rap, rap, of the woodpecker, -as his scarlet head and blue back glanced momentarily -from some dead trunk upon our eyesight. -We met with nothing to intercept our progress. Now -and then, to be sure, a drove of hogs, feeding upon the -mast in the forest, would marshal themselves in our -path, stupidly staring at us with a sort of ludicrous, -half-drunken gravity, snuffing the air, as if determined -to intercept our progress; but as we came nearer, they -would whirl short about, and with a simultaneous grunt, -their tails twisted in the air, gallop off with desperate -precipitation into the depths of the forest. Journeying -a mile or two further, we came upon the porter’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -lodges, at the entrance of the domain proper, which -were old and ruinous. Proceeding still farther over -a very bad and rough carriage-road, we came suddenly -in view of the Potomac; and Mount Vernon, with its -mansion-house and smooth, green lawn, lay extended -before us; Fort Washington’s battlements and cannon-filled -embrasures in stern silence guarding it from the -opposite side of the river.</p> - -<p>Fastening our horses, under the guidance of a grey-headed -old negro, born in the family of General -Washington, we entered the lawn and came upon the -rear-front, if the term may be allowed, of an old-fashioned -mansion, surmounted by a cupola and weather-cock, -semicircular piazzas extending around from each -end, connecting it with the kitchen and servant’s apartments. -Various buildings, all bearing the impress of -time, were scattered about, evidently in architectural -order and plan, and the two large gardens, rendered -interesting by the flowers and plants, still blooming in -the beds where they had been placed by the hands of -the General, extended back to the forest from which -we had just emerged. As we stood for a moment -looking at the old building, we almost expected to see -the yellow travelling-carriage of his Excellency, with -its four beautiful bays, and liveried out-riders, draw up -at the great hall door in its centre. Having sent in -our address, we received permission from the courteous -branch of the family, who now hold the estate, to enter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> -and survey the interior. We were struck with its extreme -simplicity, the lowness of the walls and ceilings, -and the bare floors, which were waxed, not, as with us, -carpeted. The sides of the rooms were composed exclusively -of wooden panels, upon which hung some -old oil paintings of merit,—engravings of naval actions -between the English, the Dutch, and the French; and -a small enamel miniature, which is considered the best -likeness extant of Washington. Curiosities of various -kinds covered the shelves and the mantels, and the -painted porcelains and china jars, stood in stately -display behind the glass doors of the old-fashioned -beaufets in the corners.</p> - -<p>Our attention was arrested for a moment, as we -passed through one of the rooms, by a large rusty key -of iron, enclosed in a glass case. It was the key of the -Bastile, that infernal prison, that monument of centuries -of grinding cruelty and oppression, where men -vanished, and were seen no more of their day and -generation,—where, by the intrigues of the courtier, -the subtle blandishments of the minion of the palace, -letters de cachet plunged equally the innocent, the imprudent, -and the generous, into the jaws of living death,—that -accursed congerie of dungeons where, from mid -fellowship of rats and spiders, such scrap of soiled -paper, written in the blood of the poor prisoner, fluttering -from a loop-hole in its lofty towers, arrests the -footstep of the casual passenger upon the causeway.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span></p> - -<p>“Mases de Latude, <i>thirty-two</i> years prisoner in the -Bastile, implores good Christians to intercede for him, -so that he may once more embrace his poor old father -and mother, if they yet live, and die in the open -world.”</p> - -<p>Surely, nothing but the hallowed air of Mount Vernon -could have prevented the Prince of Darkness from -bodily carrying off so precious a gem for his cabinet. -One side of the great drawing-room was ornamented -with a sculptured mantel in Italian marble, presented -by Lafayette, the other was covered with cases -containing books of high toned selection, while, from -the third, its green silk curtain drawn aside, was suspended -a portrait of the present family, by Chapman. -The figures of the portrait, as large as life, presented -a lady of middle age, clad in mourning, surrounded by -a group of children advancing into youth. It was well -executed, and in the dignified and saddened serenity, -in the simple and natural grouping, and the pure and unaffected -expression of the countenances, an American -in any part of the world, would have at once recognised -a family group of the more intellectual and refined of -his own country. As we walked through the various -rooms, from which the family had withdrawn, we were -so overcome with the illusion, the work-basket with its -scissors and thread—the half-opened book lying upon -the table, the large Bible prominently, not ostentatiously, -in its place, the portraits on the walls, the busts<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> -on their pedestals,—all causing such a vivid impression -of present life and being, that we almost expected to -see the towering form of the General entering the doorway, -or passing over the green lawn spread between -us and that Potomac which we had so often viewed -from the same windows. We were at first disappointed -at not seeing in some conspicuous place, the sword, -which had so often been extended by the hand whose -pulses quickened not in the hour of extremest peril, as -it marshalled the road of human liberty; but our disappointment -turned to admiration, and our hearts beat -still higher, as we were referred to, and read this -clause in his last testament:</p> - -<p>“To each of my four nephews, I bequeath one of -the swords of which I may die possessed. These -swords are accompanied with the injunction not to unsheath -them for the purpose of shedding blood, except -it be for self-defence, or in defence of their country -and its rights; and in the latter case, to keep them -unsheathed, and prefer falling with them in their hands -to the relinquishment thereof.”</p> - -<p>Passing through the great hall, ornamented with pictures -of English hunting scenes, we ascended the oaken -stair-case, with its carved and antique balustrade;—we -stood at the door—we pressed the handle—the -room and the bed where he died were before us. Nothing -in the lofty drama of his existence, surpassed the -grandeur of that final scene;—the cold which he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> -taken from exposure, in overseeing some part of his -grounds, and which resisted the earlier domestic remedies -that were applied, advanced in the course of two -short days into that frightful form of the disease of the -throat, laryngitis.—It became necessary for him to -take to his bed. His valued friend, Dr. Craik, was -instantly summoned, and assisted by the best medical -skill of the surrounding country, exhausted all the -means of his art, but without affording him relief. He -patiently submitted, though in great distress, to the various -remedies proposed, but it became evident from -the deep gloom settling upon the countenances of the -medical gentlemen, that the case was hopeless;—advancing -insidiously, the disease had fastened itself -with deadly certainty. Looking with perfect calmness -upon the sobbing group around him, he said—“Grieve -not my friends; it is as I anticipated from -the first;—the debt which we all owe, is now about -to be paid—I am resigned to the event.” Requesting -Mrs. Washington to bring him two wills from -his escritoire, he directed one to be burnt, and placed -the other in her hands, as his last testament, and -then gave some final instructions to Mr. Lear, his -secretary and relation, as to the adjustment his business -affairs. He soon after became greatly distressed, -and as, in the paroxysms which became more frequent -and violent, Mr. Lear, who was extended on the bed -by his side, assisted him to turn, he, with kindness, but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> -with difficulty, articulated, “I fear I give you great -trouble, sir,—but—perhaps it is a duty that we all -owe one to another—I trust that you may receive the -same attention, when you shall require it.”</p> - -<p>As the night waned, the fatal symptoms became -more imminent—his breath more laboured and suffocating, -and his voice soon after failed him. Perceiving -his end approaching, he straightened himself to his -full length, he folded his own hands in the necessary -attitude upon his chest—placing his finger upon the -pulse of the left wrist, and thus calmly prepared, and -watching his own dissolution, he awaited the summons -of his Maker. The last faint hopes of his friends had -disappeared;—Mrs. Washington, stupified with grief, -sat at the foot of the bed, her eyes fixed steadfastly -upon him; Dr. Craik, in deep gloom, stood with his -face buried in his hands at the fire,—his faithful black -servant, Christopher, the tears uncontrolled trickling -down his face, on one side, took the last look of his -dying master; while Mr. Lear, in speechless grief, -with folded hands, bent over his pillow on the other.</p> - -<p>Nought broke the stillness of his last moments, but -the suppressed sobs of the affectionate servants collected -on the stair-case; the tick of the large clock in the -hall, as it measured off, with painful distinctness, the -last fleeting moments of his existence, and the low moan -of the winter wind, as it swept through the leafless -snow-covered trees; the labouring and wearied spirit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> -drew nearer and nearer to its goal; the blood languidly -coursed slower and more slowly through its channels—the -noble heart stopped—struggled—stopt—fluttered—the -right hand slowly slid from the wrist, upon -which its finger had been placed—it fell at the side—and -the manly effigy of Washington was all that remained, -extended upon the death couch.</p> - -<p>We left that room, as those who leave a sick room: -a suppressed whisper alone escaped us, as, with a sort -of instinctive silence and awe, we drew the door slowly -and firmly to its place behind us. We again descended -the antique stair-case, and emerged upon the lawn, in -front of the mansion. Passing through several coppices -of trees, we approached the sepulchre, where rest -the remains of his earthly semblance. In the open -arch of a vault composed of brick, secured and firmly -protected by gates of open iron work, were two large -sarcophagi of white marble, in one of which, carved -in high relief, with the arms of the republic, were deposited -the remains of him, “who was first in war, -first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.” -A marble slab, set into the brick wall of the exterior, -bearing in black letters simply this inscription—</p> - -<p class="center">“The remains of<br /> -Gen’l George Washington.”</p> - -<p>There rested all that was mortal of the man, whose -justice—whose virtue—whose patriotism—meet with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> -no parallel in human history. There, within the -smoke of his own hearth-stone, mouldered the remains -of that towering form, whose spirit, whether in the -battle, or in the council-hall, in the fierce dissensions -of public discord, or in the quiet relations of social -life, shone with the same stern and spotless purity.</p> - -<p>The Potomac glittered like silver, between the trees -in the noon-day sun at our feet; the soft mild breeze -gently moved the leaves upon the tree tops—the chirp -of the wren—the drowsy hum of the locust—the quick -note of the thrush, as she hopped from twig to twig, -were all that showed signs of life,—and those huge -sarcophagi lay still—motionless—far, far from voiceless. -Oh! my countrymen, never since he left us, -hath it so behoved us to listen,—“While our Father’s -grave doth utter forth a voice.”</p> - -<p>We were exceedingly struck and affected by the -truthfulness of the “Sweet Swan of Avon,” as we saw -above the sarcophagi, (free passage to which was open -over the large iron gates,) the clayey nest of the martin, -or common house-swallow, built in the corner of the -ceiling, where, in perfect security and confidence she -fed her chirping brood, directly over the head of the -departed hero. Pure, indeed, was the air, “nimbly -and sweetly” did it play upon our senses. Oh! bard -of England, as standing upon that hallowed spot, the -spirit of the unfortunate Banquo whispered again to -our memories, his words to the murdered Duncan.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Unto our gentle senses.”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Banquo.</i>——“This guest of summer,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The temple haunting martlet, does approve,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">By his lov’d mansionry, that the heavens’ breath,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, buttress,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Nor coigne of vantage, but this bird hath made</div> - <div class="verse indent0">His pendent bed, and procreant cradle: Where they</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Most breed and haunt, I have observed, the air</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Is delicate.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>We lingered long at the tomb, and with reluctance -withdrew, as the advancing day warned us of our homeward -returning ride.</p> - -<p>The setting sun, streaming in radiance through the -trees, measured in long shadows the persons of the -two men dismounting at the cottage door, from whence -they had departed so buoyant and joyous in its morning -brightness. That setting sun, sinking beneath its -gorgeous bed of crimson, gold and purple, left those -men more chastened, true, more elevated, from their -pilgrimage to the shrine of him whose name shall forever -be the watchword of human Liberty.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_MEDICAL_STUDENT">THE MEDICAL STUDENT.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>I remained several weeks on my friend Tom’s -plantation, enjoying the course of life that he pursued, -which was entirely consonant to my tastes. His -plantation consisted of about three hundred acres, -principally laid down in wheat, indian corn and tobacco, -though some of it still remained in meadow and woodland;—this, -with a handsome productive property in -the neighbouring towns of Alexandria and Washington, -afforded him an abundant income to indulge his -liberal, though not extravagant tastes. He usually -arose at five in the morning, mounted his horse, and -rode over the plantation, overseeing and giving instructions -to the labourers; and returning, was met by his -smiling wife and beautiful children at the breakfast -table; after which, he again applied himself to business -until eleven, when he threw all care aside, and devoted -himself to pleasure or study, for the remainder of the -day. He thus avoided the two extremes to which -country gentlemen are liable,—over work on the one -hand, or ennui on the other. His library—the windows -commanding a view of twenty miles down the -Potomac—was crowded with a varied store of general -literature; among which, I observed shining conspicuously,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> -the emblazoned backs of Shakspeare, and -the worthy old Knight of La Mancha. History, -Travels, the Classics—English, French, Spanish, and -Italian—and works on Natural History and general -science, were marshalled on their respective shelves. -There was also, a small, but very select Medical Library, -for my friend had taken his degree in that profession, -and although relieved from the necessity of practising -for support, he was in the habit of attending gratuitously -on the poor in the neighbouring country.—Marble -busts of Shakspeare, Milton and Columbus, stood -on pedestals in the corners of the room, and fine old -portraits of Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Dante, and Ben -Jonson, besides an exquisite gem of Ruysdaels hanging -over the fire-place, adorned the walls. On one -side of the room, fronting the entrance, an effigy in -complete polished armour of the fifteenth century, -stood erect and grim, the mailed gauntlet grasping the -upright spear; while, on a withered branch above it, -was perched with extended wings, a superb American -Eagle, in full preservation, his keen eye appearing to -flash upon the intruders at the entrance. In the centre, -on the soft thick carpet, which returned no sound of -footsteps, was a circular table surmounted with an -Argand lamp and writing apparatus; on one side of -which, was one of the exquisitely comfortable lounging -chairs, that admit of almost every position of ease, and -on the other, a crimson fauteuil stuffed with down,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> -which Tom laughingly said, was for the peculiar benefit -of his wife, when she saw fit to honour his sanctum -sanctorum with her presence. He tasked his invention -to the utmost to make my time agreeable;—horses, -dogs, guns, books, every thing was at my disposal. -Among other excursions, he proposed, a few -days after my arrival, that we should take a run down -the Potomac in his boat. Now this boat was none -other than a beautiful clipper-built schooner-rigged -yacht, of about twenty tons burden, with a very ample -cabin in her centre, and from the gilt eagle on her -stern, and the gaudy pennant streaming at her masthead, -to the taught stay running out to the end of her -mimic jib-boom, the most complete thing of the kind -that I ever laid eyes on. In so expressing myself -when I first saw her, I received an approbatory and -very gracious nod from “Old Kennedy,” a regular old -salt, with one arm, for whom Tom had built a cottage -on his estate, and to whom she was beauty personified;—a -beauty which he could the more readily appreciate, -from the fact, that the far greater part of his time -was devoted to her decoration. “Many a time,” says -Tom, “have I found him lying by himself on the -banks, looking at her in admiration with half-open eyes; -and I much doubt whether my Mary looks more beautiful -to me, than does her namesake, as she floats -yonder, to old Kennedy.”</p> - -<p>But to come to our story. We appointed the following<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -day for our excursion, and, having first ascertained -that Walter Lee, an old friend, whose plantation was -a couple of miles below would join us, we early the -next morning got up our anchor, and under the influence -of a smacking breeze, were soon cutting our -way down the river, the white canvass stretching clean -and taught out to the stays; our long pennant streaming -proudly behind us, and our little jack shaking most -saucily from its slender staff at the bowsprit, as we -merrily curveted and jumped over the waves. Running -down to a point on Lee’s plantation, we got him -on board, and were soon under way again, the water -bubbling and gurgling into our scuppers, as we lay down -to it in the stiff breeze. Occasionally she would -sweep, gunwale under, when a flaw would strike her; -but old Kennedy, wide awake, would bring her up with -a long curving sweep, as gracefully as a young lady -sliding out of the waltz in a crowded ball-room, till, -stretching out again, she would course along, dancing -over the mimic waves, with a coquetry equal to those -same fair damsels, when they find an unfortunate wight -secure in their chains. We were all in fine spirits; -Tom’s negro boy, seated at the heel of the foremast, -showing his white teeth, in a delighted grin, as old -Kennedy, with his grave face, played off nautical wit -at his peculiar expense. We saw a number of ducks, -but they were so shy that we could with difficulty get -a shot at them; but we now and then succeeded in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> -picking half a dozen snipe out of a flock, as it rose -from the shore, and flew across our bows. We continued -running down the river in this way, for three or -four hours, passing now and then a fisherman, or other -craft, slowly beating up; but towards noon the breeze -slackened,—we gradually lost our way—merely undulating, -as the wind fanned by us in light airs, till finally -it entirely subsided; our long pennant hanging supinely -on the shrouds, and the water slopping pettishly against -our bows, as we rested tranquilly upon its surface. -The after part of the yacht was covered with an -awning, which, although sufficiently high to prevent -its obstructing the view of the helmsman, afforded us -a cover from the rays of the sun, so that we lay contentedly, -reclining upon the cushions, smoking our -cigars, enjoying our refreshments, and reviving old -recollections and associations, for it must be confessed -that we three, in our student days, had “rung the -chimes at midnight.” I had not seen Lee for several -years;—he was a descendant of the celebrated partizan -officer, who commanded the dashing corps in the Revolution -known as Lee’s Legion, and inherited, in a -marked degree, all the lofty courtesy and real chivalry -that characterized that officer. He was exceedingly -well read in the military history of the country, and -indeed so thoroughly imbued with military spirit, that -should the signal of war ring through the country, I -know of no man whose hand would so soon be on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> -sword hilt and foot in the stirrup. My introduction to -his acquaintance was marked by an incident so peculiarly -painful and exciting in its character, that I cannot -refrain from relating it. Having been let loose -from the care of my guardians at a very early age, I -made the first use of my liberty in travelling in a good-for-nothing -sort of way over Europe, determined to -see for myself, the grandeur of Old England; to -climb the Alps; to hear the romantic legends of Germany, -in her own dark forests; to study the painters -and sculptors of Italy, on her classic soil; to say nothing -of visions of dark-eyed girls of Seville, of sylphs -and fairies, floating through the ballets and operas of -Paris, and midnight adventures in the gondolas of Venice. -Arriving at London, I fell in with, and gladly -availed myself of the opportunity to take apartments -in the same house with my friend Tom and his fellow-student -Lee, both Americans, and both completing a -course of medical education by attending the lectures -of the celebrated John Hunter.</p> - -<p>It so happened, that on the very first evening that -we came together, in conversation upon the peculiar -features of their profession, I expressed a desire to -visit a dissecting-room, never having been in one in -my own country. Lee immediately invited me to accompany -them to the lecture on that evening, which -was to be delivered in the rotunda of the College, and -where, by going at an early hour, my curiosity could<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> -be satisfied, besides the opportunity that I should have -of hearing that eminent surgeon. So pulling on our -hats and taking our umbrellas in our hands, we plunged -into the dense fog, and groped our way over the greasy -pavements to the college. It was a large building, in -a dark and retired court, with something in its very -exterior sepulchral and gloomy. Entering the hall -door, we ascended one pair of stairs, stopping for a -moment as we passed the second story, to look into -the large rotunda of the lecture room. The vacant -chair of the professor was standing near the wall in the -rear of a circular table of such peculiar construction, -as to admit of elevation and depression in every part. -This table was the one upon which the subjects were -laid when under the hands of the demonstrator. Two -skeletons, suspended by wires from the ceiling, hung -directly over it; the room was as yet unoccupied and -silent. Ascending another flight of stairs, we came to -a third, secured at its entrance by a strong oaken door;-this -appeared to put a stop to our further ascent, but -upon a small bell being pulled, a sort of wicket in the -upper part of the door was cautiously drawn aside, -discovering the features of a stern, solemn-looking man, -who, apparently satisfied of the right of the parties to -enter, drew one or two heavy bolts, and dropping a -chain admitted us. A small table was placed at the -foot of the stairs, at which, by the light of a lamp, this -gloomy porter was perusing a book of devotion. Ascending<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> -the stairs, it was not until three several attempts, -that I was enabled to surmount the effects of -the effluvia sufficiently to enter the green baize door -that opened into the dissecting-room. As it swung -noiselessly to behind me, the first sensation produced -by the sight, was that of faintness; but it almost immediately -subsided. There appeared a sort of profanity -in speaking aloud, and I found myself unconsciously -asking questions of my friends in a low whisper.</p> - -<p>On small narrow tables, in different parts of the -large room, which, though lighted by a dome in the -centre, required, in the deep darkness of a London fog, -the additional aid of lamps, were extended some five -and twenty human corpses in different stages of dissection. -Groups of students were silently engaged with -their scalpels in examining these wonderful temples -of the still more wonderful human soul. Here a solitary -individual, with his book open before him upon -the corpse, followed the text upon the human subject, -while there, two or three together were tracing with -patient distinctness the course of the disease which -had driven the spirit of life from its frail habitation. I -observed one of the professors in his gold spectacles -pointing out to a number of the students, gathered -around one of the subjects, the evidences of an ossification -of the great aorta, which had, after years of torture, -necessarily terminated the life of the sufferer.—There -was almost as much individuality in those<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> -corpses as if they had been living, and it required -the most determined effort on my part to divest myself -of the idea that they were sentient, and aware of all -that was passing around them. I recollect, particularly, -one, which was lying nearest the door as I entered;—it -was the body of a man of about forty, with -light hair, and fair complexion, who had been cut -down in the midst of health. His face was as full, and -his skin as white, as if he had been merely sleeping; -but the knife had passed around his throat, down his -body, and then in sections cross-ways; the internal -muscles having been evidently exposed, and the skin -temporarily replaced, during the casual absence of the -dissector. There was something peculiarly horrid in -the appearance of that corpse, as, aside from a ruffianly -and dissolute expression of the features, the gash -around his throat conveyed the impression that it was -a murdered man lying before me. A good-looking, -middle-aged female was extended just beyond, her -long hair hanging down over the end of the table, but -not as yet touched by the hand of the surgeon; while, -just beyond her, the body of an old man, from which -the upper part of the skull had been sawn to take out -the brain, appeared to be grinning at us with a horrid -sort of mirth. In another part of the room, directly -over which the blackening body of an infant was -thrown across a beam, like a piece of an old carpet, -was extended the body of a gigantic negro; he lay<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> -upon his back, his legs somewhat apart, one of his -arms thrown up so as to rest upon the top of his head, -his eyes wide open, his nostrils distended, and his -teeth clenched in a hideous grin. There was such -evidence of strength, such giant development of muscle, -such appearance of chained energy and ferocity -about him, that, upon my soul, it seemed to me every moment -as if he was about to spring up with a frantic yell, -and throw himself upon us; and wherever I went about -the room, my eyes still involuntarily turned, expecting -to see that fierce negro drawing up his legs ready -to bound, like a malignant demon, over the intervening -space. He had been brought home for murder upon the -high seas, but the jail-fever had anticipated the hand -of the executioner, and his body of course was given -over to the surgeons. A far different object lay on -the floor near him; it was the body of a young girl -of about eleven or twelve years old. The poor little -creature had evidently died of neglect, and her -body drawn up by the action of the flexor muscles into -the form of a bow, stiffened in death, rocked forward -and backward when touched by the foot; the sunken -blue eyes staring sorrowfully and reproachfully upon -us from the emaciated features. Beyond her, in most -savage contrast, was thrown the carcass of a Bengal -tiger, which had died a day or two before in the royal -menagerie, his talons extending an inch beyond his -paws, and there was about his huge distended jaws<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> -and sickly eyes, as perfect a portraiture of disease, -and pain, and agony, as it has ever been my lot to -witness in suffering humanity. There was no levity -about the students, but, on the contrary, a sort of solemnity -in their examinations; and when they spoke, it -was in a low tone, as if they were apprehensive of -disturbing the dead around them. I thought at the -time that it would be well if some of those who sneer -at the profession, could look in upon one of these even -minor ordeals to which its followers are subjected in -their efforts to alleviate the sufferings of their fellow-men.</p> - -<p>As the hour for the lecture approached, the students -one by one, closed their books, washed their -hands, and descended to the lecture-room. We descended -with the rest, and as we passed the grim porter, -at the bottom of the stair-case, I observed in the -corner behind him a number of stout bludgeons, besides -several cutlasses and muskets. A popular commotion -a short time previous, among some of the well-intentioned -but ignorant of the lower classes, had induced -the necessity of caution, and this preparation for -resistance. Entering the lecture-room, we took our -places on the third or fourth row of seats from the demonstrator’s -table, upon which a subject was lying, -covered with a white sheet, and had time, as the room -gradually filled, to look about us. Besides the students, -Lee pointed out to me several able professional<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> -gentlemen, advanced in life, who were attracted by -the celebrity of the lecturer; among others, Abernethy -and Sir Astley Cooper. Shortly after we had taken -our seats, a slender, melancholy-looking young man, -dressed in deep mourning, entered the circle in -which we were seated, and took his place on the -vacant bench at my side. He bowed reservedly to -my companions as he passed them, but immediately -on sitting down became absorbed in deep sadness. -My friends returned his salute, but did not appear inclined -to break into his abstraction. At the precise -moment that the lecture was announced to be delivered, -the tall form of the eminent surgeon was seen descending -the alley of crowded seats to his chair. The -lights in the various parts of the room were raised -suddenly, throwing a glare on all around; and one of -the skeletons, to which an accidental jar had been -given, vibrated slowly forward and backward, while the -other hung perfectly motionless from its cord. In his -short and sententious manner, he opened the subject of -the lecture, which was the cause, effect, and treatment -of that scourge of our country—consumption. His -remarks were singularly lucid and clear, even to me, -a layman. After having gone rapidly through the pathology -of the disease, consuming perhaps some twenty -minutes of time, he said,—“We will now, gentlemen, -proceed to demonstration upon the subject itself.” -I shall not readily forget the scene that followed. As<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> -he slowly turned up the wristbands of his shirt sleeves, -and bent over to select an instrument from the case at -his side, he motioned to an assistant to withdraw the -sheet that covered the corpse. Resuming his erect -position, the long knife glittering in his hand, the sheet -was slowly drawn off, exhibiting the emaciated features -of an aged woman, her white hair parted smoothly in -the middle of her forehead, passing around to the back -of the head, beneath the plain white muslin cap. The -silence which always arrests even the most frivolous -in the presence of the dead, momentarily checked the -busy hum of whispers around me, when I heard a gasp—a -choking—a rattling in the throat, at my side; and -the next instant, the young man sitting next to me, -rose to his feet, threw his arms wildly upwards, and -shrieking in a tone of agony, that caused every man’s -heart in that assembly, momentarily to stop—“<i>My -m-o-t-h-e-r!</i>”—plunged prostrate and stiff, head foremost -upon those in front of him. All was instant consternation -and confusion;—there was one present who -knew him, but to the majority of the students, he was -as much a stranger as he was to my friends. He was -from one of the adjoining parishes of London, and -two weeks before, had lost his mother, to whom he was -much attached, and by fatal mischance, that mother lay -extended before him, upon the demonstrator’s table. -He was immediately raised, but entirely stiff and insensible, -and carried into an adjoining room;—sufficient<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> -animation was at length restored to enable him to stand, -but he stared vacantly about him, the great beads of -sweat trickling down his forehead, without a particle -of mind or memory. The lecture was of course closed, -and the lifeless corse again entrusted to hands -to replace it in its tomb. The young man, on the -following day, was brought sufficiently to himself to -have memory present the scene again to his mind, and -fell almost immediately into a raging fever, accompanied -with fierce and violent delirium; his fever gradually -abated, and his delirium at intervals; but when I -left London for the continent, three months after, he -was rapidly sinking under the disease which carried -off his mother—happily in a state of helpless and senseless -idiocy; and in a very short time after, death relieved -him from his misery. The whole scene was so -thrilling and painful, that, connecting it in some measure -with my introduction to Lee, his presence always -recalled it to my memory.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_RESURRECTIONISTS">THE RESURRECTIONISTS.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>As we returned to our lodgings, our conversation -naturally turned upon the agitating event that we had -just witnessed, and the extreme caution necessary in -the procuring of subjects for anatomical examination. -Lee related an occurrence that had happened to -Dr. ——, a gentleman of high standing in South Carolina.</p> - -<p>Shortly after the American revolution, he visited -Europe for the purpose of pursuing his medical studies, -and was received into the family of the same -distinguished gentleman, whom we had just heard lecture, -then beginning to rise to eminence and notice; -an advantage which was necessarily confined to a very -few. In one of the dark and stormy nights of December, -Mr. Hunter and his wife having been called -to the bedside of a dying relative in the country, as -Dr. —— was quietly sitting at the parlour fire, absorbed -in his studies, he was aroused by a hurried ring at -the street door, and rising, went to answer it himself. -Upon opening the door, a hackney coach, with its half-drowned -horses, presented itself at the side of the -walk, and two men, in slouched hats and heavy sailor -coals dripping with water, standing upon the steps,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> -inquired in a low tone if he wanted a subject. Being -answered in the affirmative, they opened the carriage -door, lifted out the body, which was enveloped in a -sack, and having carried it up stairs to the dissecting-room, -which was in the garret, received the two -guineas which they had demanded, and withdrew. -The affair was not unusual, and Dr. —— resuming -his book, soon forgot the transaction. About eleven -o’clock, while still absorbed in his studies, he heard a -violent female shriek in the entry, and the next instant -the servant maid, dashing open the door, fell senseless -upon the carpet at his feet, the candlestick which she -held, rolling some distance as it fell.</p> - -<p>Perceiving that the cause of alarm, whatever it -might be, was without, he caught up the candlestick, -and, jumping over her prostrate form, rushed into the -hall where an object met his view which might well -have tried the nerves of the strongest man. Standing -half-way down the stair-case, was a fierce, grim-looking -man, perfectly naked, his eyes glaring wildly and fearfully -from beneath a coarse shock of dark hair, which, -nearly concealing a narrow forehead, partially impeded -a small stream of blood trickling down the side of the -face, from a deep scratch in the temple. In one hand -he grasped a sharp long belt-knife, such as is used by -riggers and sailors, the other holding on by the bannister, -as he somewhat bent over to meet the gaze of -the Doctor rushing into the entry. The truth flashed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span> -across the mind of Dr. —— in an instant, and with -admirable presence of mind, he made one spring, catching -the man by the wrist which held the knife, in a -way that effectually prevented his using it. “In the -name of God! where am I?” demanded the man in a -horror-stricken voice, “am I to be murdered?” “Silence!—not -a whisper,” sternly answered Dr. ——, -looking him steadily in the eyes—“Silence—and -your life is safe.”—Wrenching the knife from his -hand, he pulled him by the arm passively along into -the yard, and hurrying through the gate, first ran with -him through one alley, then into another, and finally -rapidly through a third, till coming to an outlet upon -one of the narrow and unfrequented streets, he gave -him a violent push,—retracing his steps again on the -wings of the wind, pulling too, and doubly locking the -gate behind him, leaving the object of his alarm perfectly -bewildered and perplexed, and entirely ignorant -of the place from whence he had been so summarily -ejected. The precaution and presence of mind of -Dr. ——, most probably saved the house of Mr. Hunter -from being torn down and sacked by the mob, which -would have been instantly collected around it, had -the aggrieved party known where to have led them to -wreak his vengeance.</p> - -<p>After a few days, inquiry was carefully and cautiously -made through the police, and it was ascertained -that three men answering the description of the resurrectionists<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> -and their victim had been drinking deeply -through the afternoon, in one of the low dens in the -neighbourhood of Wapping; that one had sunk into a -stupid state of intoxication, and had, in that situation, -been stripped and placed in a sack by his companions, -a knife having been previously placed in his hand that -he might relieve himself from his confinement upon his -return to sensibility; and that in addition to the poor -wretch’s clothes, they had realized the two guineas -for his body.</p> - -<p>It is certainly painful, that the requirements of suffering -humanity should make the occasional violation of -the grave indispensably necessary. Whether the spirit, -released from its confinement, lies in the limbo of the -fathers, the purgatory of the Catholics, awaiting the -great day of doom; whether called from a life of virtue, -all time and distance annihilated, it sweeps free -and unconstrained in heavenly delight through the -myriads and myriads of worlds, rolling in the vast -sublimity of space; whether summoned from a course -of evil, it shudders in regions of darkness and desolation, -or writhes in agony amid flaming atmospheres; -or whether its germ of life remains torpid, as in the -wheat taken from the Egyptian pyramids, thousands -of years existent, but apparently not sentient, must, -of course, be to us but the wild theories of imagination, -and so remain until that judgment, predicted by -the holy Revelation, shall sweep away the darkness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> -with which, in inscrutable and awful wisdom, the Almighty -has enveloped us.</p> - -<p>But that the spirit can look with other than indifference, -if not loathing, on the perishing exuviæ of its -chrysalis existence, which, to its retrospective gaze, -presents little other than a tasking house of base necessities, -a chained prison of cruel disappointments, -even to our human reason, clogged as it is with bars -and contradictions, appears hardly to admit the opportunity -of question, and of consequence to that spirit its -disposition can but be a matter of indifference. Still, to -the surviving friends, whose affection cannot separate -mind from matter, those forms lying in the still and -silent tomb, retain all their dear associations, and surely -it most gravely becomes the members of that profession, -which, next to the altar, stands foremost in -benevolence, that the deepest prudence should be exercised -in this gloomy rite required by the living from -the dead.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="OLD_KENNEDY_I">OLD KENNEDY, -THE QUARTER-MASTER.</h2> - -<p class="center smaller">(Constitution and Guerriere.)</p> - -<h3>No. I.</h3> - -</div> - -<p>The sun became more and more powerful as it -ascended towards the meridian, and was reflected with -effulgent intensity from the mirror-surface of the river. -As we bent over the side and looked far down into the -deep vault reflected from above, and saw our gallant -little yacht, with her white sails and dark hull, suspended -with even minute tracery over it, we could almost -imagine ourselves with the Ancient Mariner, “in a -painted ship upon a painted ocean.”—The white sandbanks -quivered and palpitated in the sultry glare, and -the atmosphere of the adjoining swamps hung over -them in a light blue vapour; the deadly miasma, their -usual covering, dissipated in the fervent heat; while -the silence was unbroken, save by the occasional -scream of the gull, as it wheeled about in pursuit of its -prey, or the quick alarmed cry of the kingfisher, hastily -leaving some dead branch upon the shore to wing its -way farther from the object of its terror. The black<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> -boy, in perfect negro elysium, lay stretched fast asleep, -with his arm resting upon one of the dogs, in the -blazing sun on the forecastle, while we ourselves, reclined -upon the cushions, with our refreshments before -us, indolently puffed our cigars under the awning, -Old Kennedy, perched upon the taffrail, coxswain -fashion, with the tiller between his legs. While -thus enjoying ourselves, like true disciples of Epicurus, -the guitar was taken from its case in the cabin, -and accompanied by the rich tones of Walter Lee: -“Here’s a health to thee, Mary,” in compliment to our -kind hostess, swept over the still surface of the river, -till, dissipated in the distance, and anon the “Wild -Huntsman,” and “Here’s a health to all good lassies,” -shouted at the pitch of three deep bass voices, bounded -over the banks, penetrating the deep forest, causing -the wild game to spring from their coverts in consternation -at such unusual disturbance of its noontide -stillness. “We bade dull care be gone, and daft the -time away.” Old Kennedy, seated at the tiller, his -grey hair smoothed down on one side, and almost falling -into his eyes, his cheek distended with a huge -quid of tobacco, which gave an habitual drag to a mouth -whose expression indicated surly honesty and resolution, -was a perfect portrait of many an old quartermaster, -still in the service; while his scrupulously -clean shirt, with its blue collar open at the neck, discovering -a rugged throat, encircled by a ring of grey<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> -hairs, and his white canvass trowsers, as tight at the -hips as they were egregiously large at the ancles, indicated -the rig in which he had turned up, for the last -thirty years, to Sunday muster. The old seaman had -seen a great deal of service, having entered the navy -at the opening of the difficulties with the Barbary -powers, and had been engaged in several of the signal -naval actions which followed in the subsequent war -with Great Britain. Previous to that time, he had -been in the employ of Tom’s father, who was an extensive -shipping merchant at Alexandria, and now, in -his old age, influenced by an attachment for the son, -who had built a snug cottage for him on his estate, and, -vested with the full control of the yacht, he had been -induced to come down to spend the remainder of his -days on the banks of the Potomac, enjoying the pension -awarded by government for the loss of his arm.</p> - -<p>I had previously had the hint given me, that a little -adroit management would set him to spinning a yarn -which would suit my fancy. So, watching a good opportunity, -knowing that the old man had been with -Hull in his fight with the Guerriere, I successfully gave -a kick to the ball by remarking, “You felt rather uncomfortable, -Kennedy, did you not, as you were bearing -down on the Guerriere, taking broadside and -broadside from her, without returning a shot. You -had time to think of your sins, my good fellow, as conscience -had you at the gangway?” “Well, sir,” replied<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> -he, deliberately rolling his tobacco from one side -of his mouth to the other, squirting the juice through -his front teeth with true nautical grace—“Well, sir, -that ere was the first frigate action as ever I was engaged -in, and I am free to confess, I overhauled -the log of my conscience to see how it stood, so it -mought be I was called to muster in the other world in -a hurry; but I don’t think any of his shipmates will -say that Old Bill Kennedy did his duty any the worse -that day, because he thought of his God, as he has -many a time since at quarters. There’s them as says -the chaplain is paid for the religion of the ship, and it’s -none of the sailor’s business; but I never seen no harm -in an honest seaman’s thinking for himself. Howsomever, -I don’t know the man who can stand by his gun -at such time, tackle cast loose, decks sanded, matches -lighted, arm-chests thrown open, yards slung, marines -in the gangways, powder-boys passing ammunition -buckets, ship as still as death, officers in their iron-bound -boarding caps, cutlashes hanging by lanyards at -their wrists, standing like statues at divisions, enemy -may-be bearing down on the weather-quarter—I say, -I doesn’t know the man at sich time, as won’t take a -fresh bite of his quid, and give a hitch to the waistbands -of his trowsers, as he takes a squint at the enemy -through the port as he bears down. And as you -say at that particular time, the Guerriere (as is French -for soger) was wearing and manœuvering, and throwing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> -her old iron into us, broadside and broadside, like -as I have seen them Italians in Naples throw sugar-plums -at each other in Carnival time.—Afore she was -through, tho’, she found it was no sugar-plum work, -so far as Old Ironsides was consarned. You obsarve, -when we first made her out, we seen she was a large -ship close hauled on the starboard tack; so we gave -chase, and when within three miles of her, took in all -our light sails, hauled courses up, beat to quarters and -got ready for action. She wore and manœuvered for -some time, endeavouring to rake, but not making it out, -bore up under her jib, and topsails, and gallantly -waited for us. Well, sir—as we walked down to her, -there stands the old man, (Hull) his swabs on his -shoulders, dressed as fine in his yellow nankin vest -and breeches, as if he was going ashore on leave—there -he stands, one leg inside the hammock nettings, -taking snuff out of his vest pocket, watching her manœuvres, -as she blazed away like a house a-fire, just as -cool as if he was only receiving complimentary salutes. -She burnt her brimstone, and was noisy—but -never a gun fires we. Old Ironsides poked her nose -steady right down for her, carrying a bank of foam -under her bows like a feather-bed cast loose. Well, -as we neared her, and she wears first a-star-board, and -then a-larboard, giving us a regular broadside at every -tack, her shot first falls short, but as we shortened the -distance, some of them begins to come aboard—first<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> -among the rigging, and cuts away some of the stuff -aloft, for them Englishmen didn’t larn to fire low till -we larnt ’em. First they comes in aloft, but by-and-by, -in comes one—lower—crash—through the bulwarks, -making the splinters fly like carpenter’s chips,—then -another, taking a gouge out of the main-mast; and -pretty soon agin—‘<i>chit</i>’—I recollects the sound of -that ere shot well—‘chit’—another dashed past my -ear, and glancing on a gun-carriage, trips up the heels -of three as good men as ever walked the decks of that -ere ship; and all this while, never a gun fires we; -but continues steadily eating our way right down on to -his quarter, the old man standing in the hammock -nettings, watching her movements as if she was merely -playing for his amusement. Well, as we came within -carronade distance, them shot was coming on board -rather faster than mere fun, and some of the young -sailors begins to grumble, and by-and-by, the old men-of-wars-men -growled too, and worked rusty—cause -why—they sees the enemy’s mischief, and nothing -done by us to aggravate them in return. Says Bill -Vinton, the vent-holder, to me, ‘I say, Kennedy,’ says -he, ‘what’s the use—if this here’s the way they fights -frigates, dam’me! but I’d rather be at it with the Turks -agin, on their own decks as we was at Tripoli. It’s -like a Dutch bargain—all on one side. I expects the -next thing, they’ll order pipe down, and man the side-ropes -for that ere Englishman to come aboard and call<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> -the muster-roll.’ ‘Avast a bit,’ says I; ‘never you -fear the old man. No English press-gang comes on -board this ship—old Blow-hard knows what he’s -about.’</p> - -<p>“Well, by-and-by Mr. Morris, our first lieutenant, -who all the while had been walking up and down -the quarter-deck, his trumpet under his arm, and -his eyes glistening like a school-boy’s just let out to -play; by-and-by <i>he</i> begins to look sour, ’ticularly when -he sees his favourite coxswain of the first cutter carried -by a shot through the opposite port. So he first looks -hard at the Old Man, and then walks up to him, and -says by way of a hint, in a low tone, ‘The ship is -ready for action, sir, and the men are getting impatient;’—the -Old Man never turns, but keeps his eye -steadily on the enemy, while he replies, ‘Are—you—all -ready, Mr. Morris?’—‘All ready, sir,’—says the -lieutenant—‘Don’t fire a gun till I give the orders, -Mr. Morris,’—says the old man. Presently up comes -a midshipman from the main-deck, touches his hat—‘First -division all ready, sir,—the second lieutenant -reports the enemy’s shot have hurt his men, and he can -with difficulty restrain them from returning their fire;’—‘Tell -him to wait for orders, Mr. Morris,’ says the -old man again—never turning his head. Well—just, -you see, as the young gentleman turned to go below, -and another shot carries off Mr. Bush, lieutenant of marines—just -as we begins to run into their smoke, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> -even the old gun-boat men, as had been with Decatur -and Somers, begins to stare, up jumps the old man in -the air, slaps his hand on his thigh with a report like a -pistol, and roars out in a voice that reached the gunners -in the magazines—‘Now, Mr. Morris, give it to them,—now -give it to them—fore and aft—round and grape—give -it to ’em, sir—give it to ’em,’ and the words was -scarce out of his mouth, before our whole broadside -glanced at half pistol shot—the old ship trembling from -her keel to her trucks, like an aspen, at the roar of her -own batteries—instantly shooting ahead and doubling -across his bows, we gave him the other with three -cheers, and then at it we went—regular hammer and -tongs. You would a thought you were in a thunder -storm in the tropics, from the continual roar and flash -of the batteries. In ten minutes, his mizen-mast went -by the board. ‘Hurrah!’ shouts the old man; -‘hurrah, boys, we’ve made a brig of her.—Fire -low, never mind their top hamper! hurrah! we’ll -make a sloop of her before we’ve done.’ In ten -minutes more over went her main-mast, carrying -twenty men overboard as it went; and sure enough, -sir, in thirty minutes, that ere Englishman was a sheer -hulk, smooth as a canoe, not a spar standing but his -bowsprit; and his decks so completely swept by our -grape and cannister, that there was barely hands -enough left to haul down the colours, as they had -bravely nailed to the stump of their main-mast. ‘I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> -say, Kennedy,’ says the vent-holder to me, lying across -the gun after she struck, looking out at the wrack -through the port, and his nose was as black as a nigger’s -from the powder flashing under it—‘I say, I -wonder how that ere Englishman likes the smell of the -old man’s snuff.’”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="OLD_KENNEDY_II">OLD KENNEDY, -THE QUARTER-MASTER</h2> - -<p class="center smaller">(Sailors Ashore.—Hornet and Peacock.)</p> - -<h3>No. II.</h3> - -</div> - -<p>“Well—well—sailors, is queer animals any how—and -always ready for a fight or frolic—and, so far as -I sees, it don’t much matter which. Now, there was -Captain ——, he was a Lieutenant then;—I was up in -a draft of men, with him to the lakes in the war, and as -there was no canals nor steamboats in them days, they -marched us up sojer fashion. As we marched along the -road, there was nothing but skylarking and frolic the -whole time,—never a cow lying in the road but the -lads must ride, nor a pig, but they must have a pull at -his tail. I recollects, once’t, as we was passing a -farm yard, Jim Albro, as was alongside of me—what -does Jim do, but jumps over the fence and catches a -goose out of the pond, and was clearing with it under -his arm, but the farmer, too quick for him, grabs his -musket out of his door, and levelling at Jim, roars out -to drop the goose. Jim catches the goose’s neck tight -in his hand, as it spraddles under his arm, and then<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> -turning his head over his shoulder, cries out, ‘<i>You fire</i>,—I’ll -wring his neck off.’ And so Jim would have -got off with the goose, but one of the officers seeing -what was going on, orders Jim to drop the goose, and -have a care how he aggravates the honest farmers in -that ere sort of a way; for, ‘By the powers!’ said he, -‘Mister Jim Albro—this isn’t the first time, and if I -hear of the like agin from you,—but your back and the -boatswain’s mate shall scrape an acquaintance the first -moment we come within the smell of a tarred ratlin.’</p> - -<p>“It was wrong, to be sure, for Bill to take the man’s -goose, seeing as how it was none of his; but there was -one affair that same day, as the lads turned up to, and -though a steady man, I’m free to confess I had a hand -in’t. Why, what do you think sir, but as we what was -bound for to fight the battles of our country—what do -you think, but as we comes to one of them big gates -they has on the roads, but the feller as keeps it, -damme, sir, what does he do? but makes all fast, and -swear that we shan’t go through without paying! I’m -free to confess, sir, that that ere gate went off its hinges -a little quicker than the chain of our best bower ever -run through the hawse hole. A cummudgeonly son of -a land lubber,—as if, because we didn’t wear long-tail -coats, and high-heel boots, we was to pay like horses -and oxen! If the miserable scamp hadn’t’ve vanished -like a streak into the woods, we’d have paid him -out of his own tar bucket, and rolled him over in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> -feathers of one of his wife’s own beds. But, d’ye see, -that wasn’t the end of it. Them ere lawyers gets -hold of it—and it was the first time any of them land-shirks -ever came athwart my hawse.</p> - -<p>“When we gets to the next town, up comes a constable -to the midshipman, supposing as how he was in -command of the draft—up comes the constable, and -says, says he, ‘Capting, I arrests you for a salt and -battery, in behalf of these here men, as has committed -it,’ meaning, you understand, the affair of the gate. -Well, the midshipman, all ripe for frolic and fun himself, -pulls a long face, and says gruffly, that his men -hadn’t been engaged in no salt, or no battery; but that -they was ready at all times to fight for their country, -and asks him whereaway that same English battery -lay, as he would answer for the lads’ salting it quick -enough. Then the lawyer as was standing with his -hands behind him, up and tells him that ‘it’s for a trespass -in the case.’ ‘Oh! a trespass in the gate—you -mean,’ says the midshipman; but just then the -lieutenant comes up to see what’s the muss, and bids -me put on my jacket, for d’ye see, I had squared off to -measure the constable for a pair of black eyes—hang -me if the feller didn’t turn as white as a sheet. ‘Put -on your jacket, sir,’ says he, ‘and leave the man -alone;’ and then turning to the midshipman, ‘Mr. ——, -take the men down to the tavern and splice the main-brace, -while I walk up to the justice’s with the gentle<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> -man to settle this affair. And, hark’ee, ye rascals,’ -says he, ‘don’t disgrace the name of blue jacket in -this quiet village, but behave yourselves till I return.’ -Well, he and the lawyer walks up to the justice’s, and -there they three takes a glass of wine together, and -that’s the last we hearn of that ere business.</p> - -<p>“There agin, when we took the Peacock;—you all -knows about that ere action; it was what I calls short -and sweet. Fifteen minutes from the first gun, he was -cut almost entirely to pieces, his main-mast gone by -the board, six feet of water in the hold, and his flag -flying in the fore-rigging, as a signal of distress. The -sea was running so heavy, as to wash the muzzles of -our guns, as we run down. We exchanged broadsides -at half pistol shot, and then, as he wore to rake us, -we received his other broadside, running him close in -upon the starboard quarter, and a drunken sailor never -hugged a post closer, nor we did that brig, till we -had hammered day-light out of her. A queer thing is -war, though, and I can’t say as I was ever satisfied as -to its desarts, though I’ve often turned the thing -over in my mind in mid-watch since. There was we, -what was stowing our round shot into that ere brig, as -if she had been short of kenteledge, and doing all we -could to sweep, with our grape and cannister, every -thing living, from her decks,—there was we, fifteen -minutes after, working as hard as we could pull to, to -keep her above water, while we saved her wounded,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> -and the prisoners, like as she had been an unfortunate -wrack, foundering at sea. But all wouldn’t do—down -she went, carrying thirteen of her own wounded, besides -some of our own brave lads, as was exerting -themselves to save them, and mighty near did Bill -Kennedy come to being one of the number, and having -a big D marked agin his name, on the purser’s book, -at that same time. The moment she showed signals -of distress, all our boats was put in requisition to -transport the prisoners and wounded to the Hornet. -I was in the second cutter, with midshipman C——; -he was a little fellow then, tho’ he’s a captain now. -Well, we stowed her as full as she could stow, and I -was holding on by the boat-hook in the bows, jist ready -to push off, when midshipman C——, jumps aboard -agin, and runs back to call a couple of the Englishmen, -as was squared off at each other, at the foot of the -main hatch ladder, settling some old grudge—(for d’ye -see, sir, all discypline is over the moment a ship strikes)—he -runs back to tell them to clear themselves—for -the ship was sinking,—but before he could reach it, -she rolls heavily, sways for an instant from side to side, -gives a heavy lurch, and then, down she goes head -foremost, carrying them fellers as was squared off agin -each other, and her own wounded, besides four or five -of our own brave lads, right down in the vortex. Our -boat spun round and round like a top, for a moment, and -then swept clear, but the midshipman barely saved<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> -himself, by springing into an empty chest as was floating -by, and there he was dancing about in the heavy sea, -like a gull in the surf, and it was nigh on two hours -afore we picked him up; but the little fellow was jist -as cool and unconsarned, as if he was in a canoe on a -fish-pond. The next day we opens a subscription, and -furnishes all the British seamen with two shirts, and -a blue jacket and trowsers each,—cause why—d’ye -see, they’d lost all their traps in their ship when she -went down.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="OLD_KENNEDY_III">OLD KENNEDY, -THE QUARTER-MASTER.</h2> - -<p class="center smaller">(Perry’s Victory on Lake Erie.)</p> - -<h3>No. III.</h3> - -</div> - -<p>“But,” says I, “Kennedy—I think you said your -draft was bound for the lakes—which did you go to, -Ontario, or Erie?” “I was on both, sir,” says he, “afore -the war was over; and we got as much accustomed to -poking our flying jib-boom into the trees on them -shores, as if the sticks was first cousins—which, seeing -as how the ships was built in the woods, wouldn’t -be much of a wonder. Part of that ere draft staid -down on Ontario, with the old commodore, as was -watching Sir James, and part was sent up to Erie. I -went up to Erie and joined the Lawrence, Commodore -Oliver H. Perry—and I hopes that old Bill Kennedy -needn’t be called a braggart, if he says he did his part -in showing off as handsome a fight on that same fresh-water -pond, as has ever been done by an equal force -on blue water. Our gallant young commodore, made -as tight a fight of it as it has ever been my luck to be -engaged in; and seeing as how half of his men was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> -down with fever and ager, and not one in a dozen -knew the difference between the smell of gunpowder -and oil of turpentine, blow me! but I think it was -about as well done.</p> - -<p>“You see our squadron was lying in a bay, as they -calls Put-in-Bay—and when the enemy first hove in -sight, it was in the morning, about seven o’clock. I -knows that that was the time, because I had just been -made Quarter-Master, by Captain Perry, and was the -first as seen them through my glass. They was in the -nor’-west, bearing down: as soon as we made them -out to be the enemy’s fleet, up went the signal to get -under way; our ship, the Lawrence, in course taking -the lead. Well, as we was working slowly to -windward to clear some small islands—one of ’em was -Snake Island—I hearn Captain Perry come up to the -master, and ask him in a low voice, whether he thought -he should be able to work out to windward in time to -get the weather-gage of the enemy; but the master -said as how the wind was sou’-west, and light, and he -didn’t think he could. ‘Then,’ said the commodore, -aloud, ‘wear ship, sir, and go to leeward, for I am -determined to fight them to-day,’—but just then, the -wind came round to the south’ard and east’erd, and we -retained the weather-gage, and slowly bore down upon -the enemy. They did all they could to get the wind, -but not succeeding, hove into line, heading westward, -and gallantly waited for us as we came down.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span></p> - -<p>“There lay their squadron, all light sails taken in, -just like a boxer, with his sleeves rolled up, and handkercher -tied about his loins, ready to make a regular -stand-up fight, and there wasn’t a braver man, nor better -sailor, in the British navy, nor that same Barclay, -whose broad pennant floated in the van of that squadron.</p> - -<p>“Pretty soon, up runs our motto-flag, the dying words -of our hero Lawrence—‘<i>Don’t give up the ship</i>,’ and -floats proudly from our main, and then the general order -was passed down the line by trumpet, ‘<i>Each ship, lay -your enemy alongside</i>’—and if you ever seen a flock -of wild geese flying south’erd in the fall of the year, -you’ll have some idee of us, as we went down into -action. The men was full of spirit, and panting for -a fight, and even them as was so sick, as to be hardly -able to stand, insisted upon taking their places at the -guns. I recollects one in particular—he was a carpenter’s -mate, a steady man, from Newport—he crawls -up when we beat to quarters, and seats himself upon -the head of one of the pumps, with the sounding-rod -in his hand, looking as yellow as if he had just been -dragged out of a North Carolina cypress swamp: but -one of the officers comes up to him as he was sitting -there, and says—‘You are too sick to be here, my man,—there’s -no use of your being exposed for nothing—you -had better go below.’ ‘If you please, sir,’ says -the poor fellow, ‘if I can do nothing else, I can save<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> -the time of a better man, and sit here and sound the -pump.’ Well, sir, as we bore down, the English occasionally -tried our distance by a shot, and when we -was within about a mile of ’em, one comes ricochetting -across the water, bounds over the bulwarks, and takes -that man’s head as clean off his shoulders, as if it had -been done with his own broad-axe. I have hearn say, -that ‘every bullet has its billet,’ and that is sartin, that -it’s no use to dodge a shot, for if you are destined to fall -by a shot, you will sartin fall by that same shot; and -I bears in mind, that an English sailor, one of our prisoners, -told me that in a ship of their’n a feller, as -skulked in the cable-tier, during an action with the -French, was found dead with a spent forty-two resting -on his neck. The ball had come in at the starn-port—struck -one of the beams for’ard, and tumbled right in -upon him, breaking his neck, as he lay snugly coiled -away in the cable-tier. No, no—misfortins and cannon -shot is very much alike—there’s no dodging—every -man must stand up to his work, and take his -chance—if they miss, he is ready when they pipes to -grog—if they hit, the purser’s book is squared, and no -more charges is scored agin him.</p> - -<p>“But as I was saying, it wasn’t long before we begun -to make our carronades tell, and then at it we went, hot -and heavy, the Lawrence taking the lead, engaging the -Detroit, and every vessel as she came up, obeying orders -and laying her enemy alongside, in right good<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> -arnest, except the Niagara. She hung back—damn her—with -her jib brailed up, and her main-topsail to the -mast—consequence was, the Charlotte, as was her opponent, -avails herself of her distance—runs up close -under the starn of the Detroit, and both ships pours -in their combined fire into our ship the Lawrence. -I hearn the master myself, and afterwards two or -three of the other officers, go up to the Commodore during -the action, and call his attention to the Niagara, -and complain of her treacherous or cowardly conduct. -Well, them two ships gin it to us hot and heavy, and -in three minutes we was so enveloped in smoke, that -we only aimed at the flashes of their guns, for we -might as well have tried to trace a flock of ducks in -the thickest fog on the coast of Labrador, as their spars -or hulls. I was working at one of the for’ard guns, and -as after she was loaded, the captain of the piece stood -waiting with the trigger lanyard in his finger, ready to -pull, one of the officers calls out, ‘I say, sir, why don’t -you fire?’ ‘I want to make her tell, sir,’ says the -gunner,—‘I am waiting for their flash,—there it is’—and -as he pulled trigger, a cannon shot came through -the port, and dashed him to pieces between us, covering -me and the officer all over with his brains. Their fire -was awful; the whole of the shot of the two heaviest -ships in the squadron pouring into us nigh on two -hours without stopping. Our brig became a complete -slaughter-house—the guns dismounted—carriages<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> -knocked to pieces—some of our ports knocked into -one—hammock-netting shot clean away—iron stancheons -twisted like wire—and a devilish deal more -day-light than canvass in our bolt ropes—the wounded -pouring down so fast into the cockpit, that the surgeons -didn’t pretend to do more than apply tourniquets to -stop the bleeding; and many of the men came back -to the guns in that condition; while others was killed -in the hands of the surgeons. One shot came through -the cockpit, jist over the surgeon’s head, and killed -midshipman Laub, who was coming up on deck, with -a tourniquet at his shoulder, and another killed a seaman -who had already lost both arms. Our guns was -nearly all dismounted; and finally, there was but one -that could be brought to bear; and so completely was -the crew disabled, that the commodore had to work at -it with his own hands. The men became almost furious -with despair, as they found themselves made the -target for the whole squadron; and the wounded complained -bitterly of the conduct of the Niagara, as they -lay dying on the decks, and in the cockpit. Two shots -passed through the magazine—one knocked the -lantern to pieces, and sent the lighted wick upon the -floor; and if the gunner hadn’t have jumped on it with -his feet, before it caught the loose powder—my eyes! -but that ere ship and every thing on board would have -gone into the air like a sheaf of sky-rockets, and them -as was on board, never would have know’d which side<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> -whipped. Out of one hundred men that went into -action, eighty-three were either killed or wounded, and -every officer was killed or hurt except the Commodore. -Our Lieutenant of marines, lieutenant Brooks—him as -was called the Boston Apollo—the handsomest man in -the sarvice, was cut nearly in two by a cannon shot, -and died before the close of the action.</p> - -<p>“It was nigh on all up with us. The men was real -grit though, and even the wounded, cried, ‘Blow her -up,’ rather than strike. Well, as things stood, there -was an end of the Lawrence, so far as fighting went,—and -our Commodore says, says he,—‘Lieutenant -Yarnall, the American flag must not be pulled down -over my head this day, while life remains in my body: -I will go on board that ship and bring her myself into -action—and I will leave it to you to pull down the Lawrence’s -flag, if there is no help for it.’ So we got our -barge alongside, by the blessing of Heaven, not so -much injured but what she’d float, and off we pushed -for the Niagara—the Commodore standing with his -motto flag under his arm; but as soon as the enemy -caught sight of us, they delivered a whole broadside -directly at the boat—and then peppered away so briskly, -that the water all around us bubbled like a duck-pond -in a thunder shower. There Perry stood, erect -and proud, in the starn sheets—his pistols strapped in -his belt, and his sword in his hand—his eyes bent upon -the Niagara,—as if he’d jump the distance,—never<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> -heeding the shot flying around him like hail. The men -begged him to sit down—they entreated him with tears -in their eyes—but it was not until I dragged him down -by main force,—the men declaring that they would -lay upon their oars and be taken—that he consented.</p> - -<p>“There’s them as says the Niagara <i>wouldn’t</i> come -down, and there’s them as says she <i>couldn’t</i>—all <i>I</i> -knows is, that when our gallant young Commodore -took the quarter-deck, she walked down into the thickest -of it quick enough—my eyes! how we did give it -to ’em, blazing away from both sides at once. We -ran in between the Detroit and Charlotte, our guns -crammed to the muzzle, and delivered both of our broadsides -into them at the same time—grape, cannister and -all,—raking the others as we passed; and the Niagara -lads showed it wasn’t no fault of their’n, that they -hadn’t come earlier to their work. I never know’d -guns sarved smarter, than they sarved their’n, till the -end of the action—nor with better effect. We soon silenced -the enemy, and run up the stars again on the -Lawrence as she lay a complete wrack, shattered and -cut up among them, for all the world like a dead whale -surrounded by shirks. They struck one after another, -much like you may have seen the flags of a fleet run -down after the evening gun; and as the firing ceased, -and the heavy smoke bank rolled off to leeward, shiver -my timbers! but it was a sight for a Yankee tar to see -the striped bunting slapping triumphantly in the breeze -over the British jacks at their gaffs.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span></p> - -<p>“If there’s any man, tho’, as says that their -Commodore wasn’t a man every inch of him, aye! -and as good a seaman, too, as ever walked a caulked -plank, there’s one here, and his name’s Bill Kennedy, -as will tell him, that he’s a know-nothing, and talks -of a better man nor himself. Aye—aye—scrape the -crown off his buttons, and he might mess with Decatur -and Lawrence, and splice the main-brace with -Stewart and Hull, and they be proud of his company. -He was badly cut up, tho’, and I have hear’n tell, -that when he got home to England, he wouldn’t go for -to see the lady what he’d engaged to marry, but sent -her word by a friend—I don’t know who that friend -was—but suppose it was his first lieutenant, in course,—he -sends her word that he wouldn’t hold her to her -engagement—cause why, says he, ‘I’m all cut to -pieces, and an’t the man I was, when she engaged -for to be my wife.’ Well, what d’ye think the noble -girl says, when she hearn this;—‘Tell him,’ says -she, ‘as long as there’s enough of him left to hold -his soul, I will be his.’—I say, Master Tom, that’s -most up to the Virginny gals. Well—well—there -never was but one, as would have said as much for -Bill Kennedy, and she, poor Sue—she married curly-headed -Bob, captain of the main-top in the Hornet,—in -a pet, and was sorry when it was too late. She -was a good girl, though—and I’ve lent her and her -young ones a hand once’t or twice since in the breakers.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="OLD_KENNEDY_IV">OLD KENNEDY, -THE QUARTER-MASTER.</h2> - -<p class="center smaller">(Chesapeake and Shannon—Boat Fight on Lake Ontario.)</p> - -<h3>No. IV.</h3> - -</div> - -<p>“Well, Mr. Kennedy,” says Lee, “you have told -us of your victories,—have you always been victorious—have -you always had the luck on your side,—where -did you lose your arm?” The old man took -a long and deliberate survey of the horizon ahead of -us, apparently not well pleased with a dark cloud just -beginning to lift itself above its edge; but whatever -inferences he drew from it he kept to himself, and -having relieved his mouth from the quid, and replenished -the vacuum by a fresh bite of the pig-tail, he leisurely -turned to us again, and replied with some emphasis—‘Them -as fights the English, fights men—and though -it’s been my luck to be taken twice by them, once’t in -the unlucky Chesapeake, and once’t on the lakes, and -though I owes the loss of my flipper to a musket marked -G.R., I hopes I bears them no more grudge than becomes -a true yankee sailor. Now, speaking of that, I’ve -always obsarved, since the war, when our ships is in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> -the same port, that however much we always fights, -when we falls in with each other, that the moment -the English or Americans gets into a muss with the -French, or the Dutch, or the Spaniards, that we -makes common cause, and tumbles in and helps one -another—but I’m blest! but that Chesapeake business -was a bad affair. They took the ship;—let them have -the credit of it, say I;—but no great credit neither; for -half the men was foreigners in a state of mutiny, and -none of the men know’d their officers. I hearn Captain -Lawrence say himself, after he was carried below, -that when he ordered the bugle-man to sound, to repel -boarders, the cursed Portuguese was so frightened, or -treacherous, that no sound came from the bugle, though -his cheeks swelled as if in the act; and I hearn a -British officer say to one of our’n, that Captain Lawrence -owed his death to his wearing a white cravat -into action, and that a sharp-shooter in their tops picked -him off, knowing as how, that no common man would -be so dressed. I don’t complain of their getting the -best of it, for that’s the fortune of war; but they behaved -badly after the colours was hauled down. They -fired down the hatches, and“—lifting his hat, and exhibiting -a seam that measured his head from the crown -to the ear—”I received this here slash from the cutlash -of a drunken sailor, for my share, as I came up the -main-hatch, after she surrendered—My eyes! all the -stars in heaven was dancing before me as I tumbled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> -back senseless on the gun-deck below; and when -they brought the ship into Halifax, she smelt more like -a slaughter-house nor a Christian man-of-war. Howsomever, -they whipt us, and there’s an end of the matter—only -I wish’t our gallant Lawrence might have -died before the colours came down, and been spared -the pain of seeing his ship in the hands of the enemy. -It was what we old sailors expected, though. She -was an unlucky ship, and that disgraceful affair between -her and the Leopard, was enough to take the -luck out of any ship. Now if it had been “Old Ironsides,”<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -or the “Old Wagon,”<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> I’m blessed! but -the guns would have gone off themselves, had the -whole crew mutinied and refused to come to quarters, -when they heard the roar of the British cannon—aye, -aye, Old Ironsides’ bull-dogs have barked at John Bull -often enough, aye, and always held him by the nose, -too, when they growled—but the Chesapeake’s colours -was hauled down, while the Shannon’s was flying.—That’s -enough—we had to knock under—let them -have the credit of it, say I.—They’d little cause, except -in that ere fight, to crow over the Yankee blue -jackets. They whipt us, and there’s an end of the -matter, and be damned to ’em.—But that ain’t answering -your question, as how I lost my larboard flipper. -It wasn’t in that ere unfortunate ship, altho’ if it would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span> -have saved the honour of the flag, Bill Kennedy would -willingly have given his head and his arms too—but it -was under Old Chauncey on Lake Ontario. It was in -a boat expedition on that ’ere lake, that I first got a -loose sleeve to my jacket, besides being made a pris’ner -into the bargain. You see, Sir James was shut up -in Kingston, and beyond the harbour there was a long -bay or inlet setting up some three or four miles. Now, -the Commodore thought it mought be, there was more -of his ships in that same bay; so he orders Lieutenant -——, him as the English called the ‘Dare-devil Yankee,’—the -same as went in with a barge the year before -and burned a heavy armed schooner on the stocks, -with all their stores, and came away by the light of it—at—at—I -misremember the place—he orders him -to proceed up the bay to reconniter—to see whether -there was any of the enemy’s ships at anchor there—to -get all the information he could of his movements, -and to bring off a prisoner if he could catch one—that -the Commodore mought overhaul him at his leisure. -So the lieutenant takes a yawl as we had captured -some days before, having Sir James’s own flag painted -upon her bows, with midshipman Hart, and eight of us -men, and pulls leisurely along shore, till we made the -entrance of the bay. It was a bright summer afternoon, -and the water was as calm as the Captain’s hand-basin—not -a ripple to be seen. Well, the entrance -was narrow, and somewhat obstructed by small islands;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -but we soon got through them, never seeing two heavy -English men-of-war barges, as was snugly stowed in -the bushes; but about three miles up, we spies a raft -of timber, with two men on it. We gave way, and before -long got up abreast of it. When we got close -aboard the raft, the lieutenant hailing one of the men, -calls him to the side nearest the boat, and says—‘My -man, what are you lying here for, doing nothing—the -wind and tide are both in your favour—don’t you know -we are waiting down at Kingston for this here timber -for his Majesty’s sarvice—what are you idling away -your time for here?’ The feller first looks at Sir -James’s flag painted upon the bows of the yawl; and -then at the lieutenant, and then again at the flag—and -then at the lieutenant—and then opens his eyes, and -looks mighty scarey, without saying anything, with his -mouth wide open,—‘I say,’ says the Lieutenant agin, -‘I say, you feller with the ragged breeches, do you -mean to swallow my boat—why don’t you answer—what -the devil are you doing here?’ The feller -scratches his head, and then stammers, ‘I—I—<i>I</i> know -<i>you</i>—you are him as burnt Mr. Peter’s schooner last -year.’ ‘Well,’ says the Lieutenant, ‘what are you -going to do with this here timber.’ ‘I’m carrying it -down for a raising,’ says he. ‘What!’ says the -Lieutenant, ‘do you use ship’s knees and transom -beams for house raising in this part of the country? -It won’t do, my man. Bear a hand, my lads, and pile<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> -all the boards and light stuff in the centre, and we’ll -make a bonfire in honour of his most sacred Majesty.’ -So we set fire to it, and took the spokesman on board -the yawl,—towing the other man in their skiff astarn, -intending to release them both when we had got all the -information that we wanted out of them. We returned -slowly down the bay again, the blazing raft making a -great smoke; but as we neared the outlet, what does -we see, but them two heavy barges pulling down to cut -us off. We had to run some distance nearly parallel -with them, an island intervening—so we every moment -came nearer to them, and soon within speaking distance. -The men gave way hearty—in fear of an English -prison, but as we came nearer each other, some of -the officers in the English boats recognises Lieutenant -——, cause why—they had been prisoners with us—and -hails him—“G——,” says they, ‘you must submit, -it’s no use for you to resist, we are four to your -one. Come, old feller, don’t make any unnecessary -trouble, but give up—you’ve got to knock under.’ The -Lieutenant said nothing,—but he was a particular man, -and had his own notions upon the subject, for, bidding -the men give way, he coolly draws sight upon the -spokesman with his rifle, and most sartin, as he was a -dead shot, there would have been a vacant commission -in His Majesty’s Navy, hadn’t the raftsman, who was -frightened out of his wits, caught hold of him by the -tails of his coat and dragged him down into the bottom<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> -of the boat. The Lieutenant drops his rifle, and -catches the feller by his legs and shoulders and heaves -him clear of the boat towards the skiff—while we men, -dropping our oars, gave them a volley with our muskets, -and then laid down to it again. We had taken them -by surprise, but as we dashed along ahead, they returned -our fire with interest, peppering some of our lads -and killing Midshipman Hart outright, who merely uttered -an exclamation as his oar flew up above his head, -and he fell dead in the bottom of the boat. Well, we -see’d the headmost barge all ready, lying on her oars -and waiting for us, and as there was no running the -gauntlet past her fire, we made for another opening -from the bay as didn’t appear to be obstructed, but as -we nears it, and just begins to breathe free, three boats -full of lobsters, of red-coats, shoots right across, and -closes the entrance effectually on that side. We was -in a regular rat-trap. We had been seen and watched -from the moment we had got inside of the bay, burning -the raft and all. ‘Well, my lads,’ says the Lieutenant, -‘this will never do—we must go about—hug the -shore close, and try to push by the barges.’ So about -we went, but as we neared the shore, there was a party -of them ’ere riflemen in their leggins and hunting-shirts, -all ready for us, waiting just as cool and unconsarned -as if we was a parcel of Christmas turkies, -put up for them to shoot at. ‘Umph,’ says the Lieutenant -again, ‘’twon’t do for them fellers to be cracking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> -their coach-whips at us neither—we’ve nothing to -do for it, my boys, but to try our luck, such as it is, -with the barges.’ So as we pulled dead for the entrance -of the bay, they lay on their oars, all ready for -us, and as we came up, they poured such a deadly fire -into that ere yawl as I never seed before or since. -There was nineteen wounds among eight of us. The -Lieutenant was the only one unhurt, though his hat -was riddled through and through, and his clothes hung -about him in tatters. How he was presarved, is a miracle, -for he was standing all the while in the starn-sheets, -the most exposed of any on board. They kept -firing away, as if they intended to finish the business, -and gin no quarter, the men doing what little they -could to pull at the oars; but a boat of wounded and -dying men couldn’t make much headway. Our men -was true Yankee lads, tho’—and no flinching.</p> - -<p>“There was one man named Patterson, as pulled -on the same thwart with me, and of all the men I’ve -ever sailed with, he showed most of what I calls real -grit. At their first volley, he gets a shot through his -thigh, shattering the bone so that it hung twisted over -on one side, but he pulls away at his oar as if nothing -had happened. Presently another passes through his -lungs, and comes out at his back—still he pulls away, -and didn’t give in;—at last, a third takes him through -the throat, and passes out back of his neck;—then, -and not till then, did he call out to the lieutenant—‘Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span> -G—, I’m killed, sir;—I’m dead;—I can’t do no -more.’ So the lieutenant says—‘Throw your oar -overboard, Patterson, and slide down into the bottom -of the boat, and make yourself as comfortable as you -can.’ Well—what does Patterson do, as he lays in -the bottom of the boat bleeding to death, what does he -do but lifts his arm over the gunwale, and shaking his -fist, cry, ‘Come on, damn ye, one at a time, and I’m -enough for ye as I am.’ Aye, aye, Patterson was what -I calls real grit. He was a good, quiet, steady man, -too, on board ship; always clean and ac<i>tyv</i>e, and cheerful -in obeying orders. Howsomever, his time had -come, and in course there was an end of his boat duty -in this world.</p> - -<p>“Well—they continued to fire into us as fast as -they could load, cause why, they was aggravated -that so small a force should have fired into them; -but the lieutenant takes off his hat and makes a -low bow, to let them know as how he had surrendered, -and then directs me to hold up an oar’s blade; but they -takes no notice of neither, and still peppered away; -but just as we concludes that they didn’t intend to give -no quarter, but meant to extarminate us outright, they -slacks firing, and, taking a long circuit, as if we’d have -been a torpedo, or some other dangerous combustible, -pulled up aboard. There wasn’t much for them to be -afeard on though, for with the exception of the lieutenant, -who was untouched, there was nothing in the boat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span> -but dead and wounded men. They took us in tow, -and carried us down to Kingston, and mighty savage was -Sir James;—he said that it was unpardonable that so -small a force should have attempted resistance, and he -and the lieutenant getting high, and becoming aggravated -by something as was said between them, Sir -James claps him in a state-room under arrest, and -keeps him there under a sentry, with a drawn baggonet, -for nigh on two months. After that he sends the -lieutenant to Quebec, and then to England, where he -remained till the close of the war; but them of us men -as didn’t die of our wounds was kept down in Montreal, -until——” Here the old man broke off abruptly, and -taking another long look at the horizon, said, “If I a’nt -much mistaken, Master Tom, there’s something a-brewing -ahead there, as will make this here craft wake -up, as if she was at the little end of a funnel, with a -harricane pouring through the other—and if I knows -the smell of a Potomac thundergust, we’ll have it full -blast here before we’re many minutes older.”</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Frigate Constitution.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> Frigate United States.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="LEES_PARTISAN_LEGION">LEE’S PARTISAN LEGION.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>Old Kennedy quietly proceeded to make the necessary -preparations to encounter the tempest. His -peacoat was got out of the locker, and tightly buttoned -about him, and his tarpaulin well secured by its lanyard -to his button-hole. The mainsail and foresail -were stowed and secured, and nothing but the jib, the -bonnet of which was reefed down, was allowed to -remain spread upon our dark and graceful schooner.</p> - -<p>The cloud in the horizon began to extend itself, increasing -and gradually rising and covering the sky, -and the old man’s prediction was evidently about to -be fulfilled. A dead calm lay upon the river, and a -preternatural stillness clothed in a sort of stupor the -whole face of nature around us; while low muttering -rolls of thunder from the dark cloud, and the frequent, -sudden, crinkling lightning, glittering across its surface, -warned us that we were about to encounter one -of those violent and terrible thunder-storms which not -unfrequently occur in this part of the country.</p> - -<p>The distant muttering in the horizon rapidly became -louder, and the perfect stillness of the forest was broken. -The melancholy sighs of the coming blast increased -to wails,—the boughs of the trees rubbed -against each other with a slow, see-saw motion, and,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> -as the storm increased, grated with a harsh and continued -groaning. The lightning became quick and -incessant, and blindingly vivid, and the dark gloom of -the forest was rendered still darker by its rapid glare. -The river itself soon was lashed into foam behind us, -and in a few moments more, accompanied by huge -clouds of dust, the tempest came roaring upon us. -The cultivated fields and cheerful plantations which -were but now smiling in quietness and repose, on the -other side of the river, were now instantly shut out by -the deep gloom. As the gust struck the schooner, -she checked for a moment as if in surprise, and then -shot forward with the speed of an arrow from the bow, -swept on in the furious tempest as if she had been a -gossamer or feather, enveloped in dust and darkness, -the rain and hail hissing as it drove onwards, and the -terrific thunder, now like whole broadsides of artillery, -now quick and incessant peals of musquetry, roaring -with frightful violence around her, while the deep black -forest, lit up by the blue lightning, bellowed incessantly -with the hollow echoes. As we swept forward with -frantic swiftness, a quivering white flash struck the -top of an immense oak, and ere the crashing, deafening -roar of the thunder followed, it was torn and splintered, -shivered and burning, hurled on by the blast.</p> - -<p>As soon as the squall struck us, we ensconced -ourselves below, in full confidence of our safety with -Old Kennedy at the helm; and a fine subject would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> -the old seaman have been for a painter, as he sat amid -the fury of the storm, stern and erect, the tiller under -the stump of his left arm, and the jib-sheets with one -turn around the cleet in his right hand—the usual -surly expression of his countenance increased into -grim defiance, as he steadily and unmovingly kept his -eyes fixed into the gloom ahead. At one time we -darted by a sloop at anchor, which had let go every -thing by the run, her sails over her side in the water, -on which, if the yacht had struck, she would have been -crumpled up like a broken egg-shell; but thanks to our -old Quartermaster’s care, we dashed by in the gloom, -his eyes never even for a moment turning on her as we -passed.</p> - -<p>The storm swept us on in its fury for some time, -when it gradually abated in violence, and began to -subside. The heavy clouds, flying higher and higher -in detached masses in the heavens, by and bye lifted -themselves in the western sky, and through the ragged -intervals the setting sun poured his last rays over the -dripping forest, bronzing the dark sides of our little -schooner as he sunk and disappeared beneath the -horizon. As the evening wore on, a star here and -there discovered itself struggling amid the scud flying -over it, and presently the moon shone out with her -broad and silver light, and every vestige of the storm -had disappeared.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span></p> - -<p>As we glided gaily on, with a fresh, fine breeze, towards -our cottage home past the deep forest, the -silence was broken by a long, melancholy howl, which -I supposed was that of a solitary wolf, but Lee said -that it was more probably from some one of the large -breed of dogs which are found on most of the plantations. -Lee’s mind was of a sad and pensive, although -not at all of a gloomy cast; and like most men of that -character, he required strong excitement to arouse him; -but when aroused, of all delightful companions that I -have ever met, he was the man. The excitement of -the storm had been sufficient stimulus, and giving the -reins to his wild spirits and excited feelings, he entertained -us with an incessant stream of anecdote and -adventure. The howl of the wolf had recalled to -mind an incident in the life of his ancestor, Lieutenant-Colonel -Lee, and in connection, he related it with -many other adventures of the celebrated Partisan Legion. -I will not attempt to use his beautiful and spirit-stirring -language, but will confine myself to a few disjointed -anecdotes, of the many which he related of the -dashing corps, as they happen to recur to my memory.</p> - -<p>The Legion, intended to act independently or conjointly -with the main army, as circumstances might -require, was composed of three companies of infantry, -and three troops of cavalry, amounting in all to three -hundred and fifty men, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel -Henry Lee, who, every inch a soldier, had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> -won for himself in the Southern campaigns, and particularly -in the masterly retreat of Green, before Cornwallis, -the honourable distinction of being called “the -eye of the Southern army.” He was Green’s confidential -adviser and constant friend:—a stern disciplinarian, -he was nevertheless beloved by his officers -and men, and so careful was he of the interests of the -latter, that while the rest of the army were suffering, -the Legion by his exertions was always retained in the -highest state of personal appearance and discipline. -The horses were powerful and kept in high condition;—indeed -Lee has been accused of being more careful -for their safety than for that of his men. The cavalry in -the British army mounted on inferior horses, could not -stand a moment before them; and armed with their -long heavy sabres, Lee’s troopers were considered full -match for double the force of the enemy.</p> - -<p>The Legion infantry were well equipped, and thoroughly -disciplined men, and acted in unison with the -cavalry. They were commanded by Captain Michael -Rudolph, a man of small stature, but of the most determined -and daring courage, and of great physical -strength. He always led in person the “forlorn hope,” -when the Legion’s services were required in the storm -of posts, and he was so completely the idol of his men, -that it was only necessary that he should be detailed -on duty of the most desperate character, that the infantry, -to a man, were anxious to be engaged in it.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span> -The leading captain of the cavalry, James Armstrong, -was almost precisely his counterpart in person, in -strength, in undaunted courage and heroic daring, beloved -by his men, ahead of whom he was always -found in the charge. O’Neal, also of the cavalry, was -a bold and gallant man, who fought his way up from -the ranks; for no carpet knight had consideration in -the corps. In an early part of his career, he came -near cutting off in the bud, Cornwallis’ favourite cavalry -officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Tarleton; for this officer, -whatever his merits or demerits, endeavoured to -enter a window at which O’Neal was posted, when the -latter, dropping his carabine, snapped it within an inch -of his head, but the piece missing fire, Tarleton very -coolly looked up at him with a smile, and said, “You -have missed it for this time, my lad,” and wheeling his -horse, joined the rest of his troop, who were on the -retreat.</p> - -<p>It were perhaps difficult to select the brave from a -body of men who were all brave, but it is not invidious -to say, that there was not a man of more fearless courage -in the corps than Lieutenant Manning of the Legion -infantry. At the battle of Eutaw, commanding his -platoon to charge, he rushed on in his usual reckless -manner, without stopping or looking behind him, until -he was brought up by a large stone house, into which -the Royal York Volunteers under Lieutenant-Colonel -Cruger, were retiring. The British were on all sides,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> -and no American soldier within two hundred yards of -him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he threw himself -upon a British officer, and seizing him by the collar, -wrested his sword from his grasp, exclaiming, in -a harsh voice, “You are my prisoner, sir.” Interposing -him between the enemy and himself, as a shield -from the heavy fire pouring from the windows, he -then very coolly and deliberately backed out of danger: -the prisoner, who was not deemed by his brother -officers a prodigy of valour, pompously enumerating his -rank and titles, which Manning occasionally interrupted -with, “You are right—you are right—you’re just -the man, sir,—you shall preserve <i>me</i> from danger, and -rest assured I’ll take good care of <i>you</i>.”</p> - -<p>Manning had retreated some distance from the house, -when he saw his friend Captain Joyett, of the Virginia -line, engaged in single combat with a British officer. -The American was armed with his sword, while the -Briton was defending himself with a bayonet. As the -American approached, the Englishman made a thrust -with the bayonet, which Joyett successfully parried with -his sword, when both of them dropping the arms which -they could not wield in so close an encounter, simultaneously -clinched, and being men of great and nearly -equal bodily strength, they were soon engaged in a desperate -and deadly struggle. While thus engaged, an -English grenadier seeing the danger of his officer, -ran up and with his bayonet made a lounge, which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> -luckily missing Joyett’s body, passed only through -the skirts of his coat, but the bayonet becoming -entangled in the folds, upon its withdrawal dragged -both of the combatants together to the ground. The -soldier having disengaged it, was about deliberately to -transfix Joyett by a second thrust, when Manning, -seeing the danger of his friend, without being sufficiently -near in the crisis to assist him, called out as he -hurried up in an authoritative tone, “You would not -murder the gentleman, you brute!”—The grenadier -supposing himself addressed by one of his own officers, -suspended the contemplated blow and turned towards -the speaker, but before he could recover from his surprise, -Manning cut him across the eyes with his -sword, while Joyett disengaging himself from his opponent, -snatched up the musket, and with one blow laid -him dead with the butt;—the valiant prisoner whom -Manning had dragged along, and who invariably asserted -that he had been captured by “Joyett, a huge Virginian,”—instead -of Manning, who was a small man—standing -a horror-struck spectator of the tragedy. -An equally brave man was Sergeant Ord, of Manning’s -company;—in the surprise of the British at Georgetown, -when a company of the Legion infantry had -captured a house with its enclosures, the enemy made -an attempt to regain it; the commanding officer calling -out to his men, “Rush on, my brave fellows—they are -only militia, and have no bayonets;”—Ord placing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> -himself in front of the gate as they attempted to enter, -laid six of them in succession, dead at his feet, accompanying -each thrust with—“Oh! no bayonets -here—none to be sure!”—following up his strokes -with such rapidity that the party were obliged to give -up the attempt and retire.</p> - -<p>But perhaps there could have been no two characters -in the corps more the perfect antipodes of each -other, than the two surgeons of the cavalry, Irvine -and Skinner, for while Irvine was entirely regardless -of his person, and frequently found engaged sword in -hand, in the thickest of the fight, where his duty by -no means called him, Skinner was as invariably -found in the rear, cherishing his loved person from the -threatened danger. Indeed he was a complete counterpart -of old Falstaff;—the same fat and rotund person—the -same lover of good cheer and good wine—and -entertaining the same aversion to exposing his dear -body to the danger of missiles or cuts;—not only -was he a source of fun in himself, “but he was the -cause of it in others.” He asserted that his business -was in the rear—to cure men, not to kill them; and -when Irvine was wounded at the charge of Quinby’s -bridge, he refused to touch him, until he had dressed -the hurts of the meanest of the soldiers, saying that -Matthew Irvine was served perfectly right, and had no -business to be engaged out of his vocation. At the -night alarm at Ninety-six, Colonel Lee, hastening forward<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> -to ascertain the cause, met the Doctor in full retreat, -and stopping him, addressed him, with—“Where -so fast, Doctor—not frightened I hope,”—“No, Colonel,” -replied Skinner—“not frightened—but I confess, -most infernally alarmed.” His eccentricities extended -not alone to his acts, but to every thing about him. -Among other peculiarities, he wore his beard long, and -unshorn, and upon being asked by a brother officer -why he did so, he replied, that “that was a secret between -Heaven and himself, which no human impertinence -should ever penetrate.” Like Falstaff, and with -similar success, he considered himself the admired -of the fair sex,—“Ay!” said he, to Captain Carns, of -the infantry, “Ay, Carns, I have an <i>eye</i>!” Yet Skinner -was by no means a man to be trifled with, for he was -not devoid of a certain sort of courage, as he had -proved in half a dozen duels, in one of which he had -killed his man. When asked how it was, that he was -so careful of his person in action, when he had shown -so plainly that he was not deficient in courage,—he -replied, “That he considered it very arrogant in a -surgeon, whose business it was to cure, to be aping -the demeanour and duty of a commissioned officer, -and that he was no more indisposed to die than -other gentlemen, but that he had an utter aversion to the -noise and tumult of battle,—that it stunned and stupified -him.” On one occasion, when the Legion was -passing through a narrow defile, the centre was alarmed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> -by the drums of the infantry beating to arms in front,—Skinner, -with the full sense of what was due to himself, -whirled about, and giving his horse a short turn by -the bridle, brought him down on his back in the middle -of the defile, completely blocking it up, and preventing -either egress or ingress—relief or retreat. The -infantry and cavalry which had passed the gorge, immediately -deployed on the hill in front, while the remainder -of the Legion, galloping up, were completely severed by -this singular and unexpected obstruction, until Captain -Egglestone dismounting some of his strongest troopers, -succeeded in dragging the horse out of the defile by -main force. It turned out that the alarm was false, -otherwise the doctor’s terror might have caused the -destruction of one-half of the corps.</p> - -<p>But to recur to the incident brought to mind by the -howling of the wolf. When the Legion was on its -march to form a junction with Marion, on the little Pedee, -it one night encamped in a large field on the -southern side of a stream, with the main road in front. -The night passed on very quietly, until about two -or three in the morning, when the officer of the day -reported that a strange noise had been heard by the -picquet in front, on the great road, resembling the noise -of men moving through the adjoining swamp. While -he was yet speaking, the sentinel in that quarter fired -his piece, which was immediately followed by the bugle -calling in the horse patroles, the invariable custom<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> -upon the approach of an enemy. The drums instantly -beat to arms, and the troops arranged for defence. -The sentries on being questioned, all concurred in the -same account, “and one patrol of horse asserted that -they had heard horsemen concealing with the greatest -care their advance.” Lee was in great perplexity, for -he knew that he was not within striking distance of -any large body of the enemy, and that Marion was at -least two days distance in advance; but soon a sentinel -in another direction fired, and the same report was -brought in from him; and it was apparent, however -unaccountable, that the enemy were present. A rapid -change in the formation of the troops was made to -meet the attack in this quarter, but it was hardly accomplished -before the fire of a third sentinel in a -different direction, communicated the intelligence of -danger from another quarter. Feelings of intense -anxiety were now aroused, and preparations were -made for a general assault, as soon as light should -allow it to be made. The picquets and sentinels -held their stations, the horse patrols were called -in, and the corps changed its position in silence, and -with precision upon every new communication, with the -combined object of keeping the fires between them and -the enemy, and the horse in the rear of the infantry.</p> - -<p>While thus engaged, another and rapid discharge -by the sentinels, on the line of the great road, plainly -indicated that the enemy were in force, and that with -full understanding of their object, they had surrounded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> -them. It was also evident that there must be a large -body of the enemy, from their covering so large a segment -of the circle around them. It was equally apparent -that they could expect no aid from any quarter, -and relying upon themselves, the corps awaited in extreme -anxiety, the scene which the day was to usher -upon them.</p> - -<p>Lee passed along the line of infantry and cavalry, -in a low tone urging upon them the necessity of profound -silence, reminding them that in the approaching -contest they must sustain their high reputation, and -expressing his confidence, that with their accustomed -bravery, they would be able to cut their way through -all opposing obstacles, and reach the Pedee. His -address was answered by whispers of applause, and -having formed the cavalry and infantry into two columns, -he awaited anxiously the break of day, to give -the signal for action. It soon appeared, and the columns -advanced on the great road; infantry in front, -baggage in the centre, and cavalry in the rear. As -soon as the head of the column reached the road, the -van officer proceeding a few hundred yards received -the same account that had been given from the sentinel -that had fired last.</p> - -<p>The enigma remained unexplained, and no enemy -being in view, there could be but little doubt that the -attack was to be from ambushment, and the column -moved slowly on, expecting every moment to receive -their fire. But the van officer’s attention having been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> -accidentally attracted, he examined, and found along -the road, the tracks of a large pack of wolves. The -mystery was now solved; it was evident that the -supposed enemy was no other than the pack of wild -beasts, which, turned from their route by the fire of -the sentinels, had passed still from point to point in -a wide circuit, bent upon the attainment of their object. -A quantity of provisions had been stored some time -previously on their line of march, but having become -spoiled, it was abandoned in the vicinity of the -night’s encampment, and the wolves had been disturbed -by the videts, in the nightly progress to their -regale. The agitation instantly subsided, and wit and -merriment flashed on all sides, “every one appearing -anxious to shift the derision from himself upon his -neighbour, the commandant himself coming in for his -share; and as it was the interest of the many to fix -the stigma on the few, the corps unanimously charged -the officer of the day, the guards, the patrols and -picquets, with gross stupidity, hard bordering upon cowardice:” -nevertheless, they were none the less relieved -by the happy termination of an adventure attended by -so many circumstances naturally alarming, and it long -passed as an excellent joke in the Legion, under the -title of the “Wolf reconnoitre.”</p> - -<p>The music sounded merrily, and the column marched -on, elate with the fun and novelty of the adventure, -and of the buglers none blew a more cheery strain than<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> -little Jack Ellis the bugler of Armstrong’s troop. He -was a fine boy, small and intelligent, as well as young -and handsome, and a general favourite in the Legion. -Poor little fellow! he met his death under circumstances -peculiarly tragic and cruel, not long after. When -the Southern army, under Green, was slowly making -its masterly retreat before Cornwallis, the Legion formed -part of the rear-guard, and was consequently almost -continually in sight of the van of the enemy, commanded -by Brigadier-General O’Hara. The duty devolving -upon it, severe in the day, was extremely so in -the night, for numerous patrols and picquets were constantly -required to be on the alert, to prevent the enemy -from taking advantage of the darkness to get near -the main army by circuitous routes, so that one half -of the troops of the rear guard were alternately put on -duty day and night, and the men were not able to get -more than six hours sleep out of the forty-eight. But -the men were in fine spirits, notwithstanding the great -fatigue to which they were subjected. They usually, -at the break of day, hurried on, to gain as great a distance -in advance as possible, that they might secure -their breakfast, the only meal during the rapid and -hazardous retreat. One drizzly and cold morning, -the officers and dragoons, in pursuance of this custom, -had hurried on to the front, and just got their corn cakes -and meat on the coals, when a countryman, mounted on -a small and meagre pony, came galloping up, and hastily<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -asking for the commanding officer, he informed him -that the British column, leaving the main line of march, -were moving obliquely in a different direction, and -that, discovering the manœuvre from a field where he -was burning brush, he had run home, caught the first -horse he could lay his hands upon, and hurried along -with the information. Unwilling to believe the report -of the countryman, although he could not well doubt -it, and reluctant to disturb so materially the comfort of -the men, as to deprive them of the breakfast for which -they were waiting with keen appetites, Lee ordered -Captain Armstrong to take one section of horse, accompanied -by the countryman, to return on the route, -and having reconnoitred, to make his report.</p> - -<p>Circumstances, however, strengthening him in the belief -that the information of the countryman was correct, -he took a squadron of cavalry, and followed on to the -support of Armstrong, whom he overtook at no great distance -ahead. Perceiving no sign of the enemy, he again -concluded that the countryman was mistaken. He -therefore directed Armstrong to take the guide and three -dragoons, and to advance still further on the road, while -he returned with the squadron to finish their breakfast. -The countryman mounted on his sorry nag, protested -against being thus left to take care of himself, asserting -that though the dragoons on their spirited and powerful -horses were sure of safety, if pursued—he, on his jaded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> -hack, was equally sure of being taken. Lee acknowledged -the danger of the friendly guide, dismounted -the little bugler, and giving the countryman his horse, -he placed Ellis upon the hack, sending him on in -front to report to the commanding officer. After having -returned a short distance, the squadron entered the -woods, on the road side, and the dragoons leisurely -proceeded to finish their breakfast—but they had -hardly got it out of their haversacks, when a firing of -musketry was heard, and almost immediately after the -clatter of horses’ hoofs coming on at full gallop. The -next moment, Armstrong, with his dragoons and the -countryman came in sight, pursued by a troop of Tarleton’s -dragoons, at the top of their speed.</p> - -<p>Lee saw Armstrong with his small party well in -front and hard in hand, and felt no anxiety about them, -as he knew that their horses were so superior to those -of the enemy that they were perfectly safe, but the -danger of the bugler, who could be but little ahead, -immediately caused him serious uneasiness. Wishing -however, to let the British squadron get as far from -support as possible, he continued in the woods for a few -moments, intending to interpose in time to save the boy. -Having let them get a sufficient distance, and assuring -himself that there was nothing coming up to their -support, he put the squadron in motion and appeared -on the road, but only in time to see the enraged dragoons -overtake and sabre the poor little suppliant, as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> -he in vain implored for quarter. Infuriated at the -sight, he gave orders to charge, and the English officer -had barely time to form, when Lee’s squadron was -upon them like a whirlwind—killing, prostrating, and -unhorsing almost the whole of the force in an instant, -while the captain, and the few left unhurt endeavoured -to escape. Ordering Lieutenant Lewis to follow on -in pursuit, with strict orders to give no quarter, an order -dictated by the sanguinary act that they had just -witnessed, he placed the dying boy in the arms of two -of the dragoons, directing them to proceed onwards to -the camp, and immediately after pushed on to the support -of Lewis, whom he soon met returning with the -English captain and several of his dragoons, prisoners—the -officer unhurt, but the men severely cut in the -face, neck, and shoulders. Reprimanding Lewis on -the spot for disobedience of orders, he peremptorily -charged the British officer with the atrocity that they -had just witnessed, and ordered him to prepare for -instant death. The officer urged that he had in vain -endeavoured to save the boy, that his dragoons were -intoxicated, and would not obey his orders, and he begged -that he might not be sacrificed, stating that in the -slaughter of Lt. Col. Buford’s command, he had used -his greatest exertions, and succeeded in saving the -lives of many of the Americans. This, in some measure -mollified Lee, but just then overtaking the speechless -and dying boy, expiring in the arms of the soldiers,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> -his bright and handsome face, changed in the ghastly -agony of death, he returned with unrelenting sternness -to his first decision and informed the Englishman that -he should execute him in the next vale through which -they were to pass, and furnishing him with a pencil -and paper, desired him to make such note as he wished -to his friends, which he pledged him his word should -be sent to the British General. The ill-fated soldier -proceeded to write, when the British van approaching -in sight, the prisoner was sent on to Col. Williams in -front, who, ignorant of the murder, and of Lee’s determination -to make an example of him, in his turn, forwarded -him on to head quarters—thus luckily saving -his life. Eighteen of the British dragoons fell in the -charge, and were buried by Cornwallis as he came up, -but the American’s had time to do no more than lay -the body of the poor little bugler in the woods on the -side of the road, trusting to the charity of the country -people to inter it, when they were obliged to resume -their retreat. It should be borne in mind that Lee’s -humane disposition could only be excited to such summary -vengeance by the cruel and unwarrantable murder -that they had just witnessed, and by the frequent -acts of atrocity which had been repeatedly enacted by -this same corps.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the fated destiny which frequently appears -to await the soldier, hanging over him like a shield -while he passes through the most desperate danger,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> -until the appointed hour arrives, was never more apparent -than in the case of Lt. Col. Webster, of the -British army in this same retreat. When the rear of -the American army, composed as has been observed -principally by the Legion, had passed the Reedy -Fork, the British van under the command of Webster, -endeavoured to ford the river and bring them into action, -a point which Cornwallis was anxious to attain, but -which was entirely foreign to the plan of Greene, -whose object was to wear out his pursuers. Under -the cover of a dense fog, the British had attained a -short distance of the Legion before they were discovered. -They made their appearance on the opposite bank -of the river, and after halting a few moments, descended -the hill and approached the water, but receiving a -heavy fire of musketry and rifles, they fell back and -quickly reascending, were again rallied on the margin -of the bank. Col. Webster rode up, calling upon the -soldiers in a loud voice to follow, and rushing down the -hill, at their head, amid a galling fire poured from the -Legion troops, he plunged into the water. In the -woods occupied by the riflemen, was an old log schoolhouse, -a little to the right of the ford. The mud -stuffed between the logs had mostly fallen out, and the -apertures admitted the use of rifles with ease. In this -house Lee had posted five and twenty select marksmen -from the mountain militia, with orders to forego engaging -in the general action, and directions to hold themselves<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> -in reserve for any particular object which might -present. “The attention of this party being attracted -by Webster, as he plunged into the water, they singled -him out as their mark. The stream being deep, and -the bottom rugged, he advanced slowly, the soldiers, -some of them, holding on by his stirrup-leathers,—and -one by one they discharged their rifles at him, each -man sure of knocking him over, and, having re-loaded, -eight or nine of them, emptied their guns at him a -second time, yet strange to relate, neither horse nor -rider received a single ball. The twenty-five marksmen -were celebrated for their superior skill, and it was -a common amusement for them to place an apple on -the end of a ramrod and hold it out at arm’s length, as -a mark for their comrades to fire at, when many balls -would pass through the apple, yet the British officer, -mounted on a stout horse, slowly moving through a deep -water course, was singled out and fired at thirty-two or -three times successively, and yet remained untouched, -and succeeded in effecting a lodgment on the bank, -where he formed his troops under a heavy fire.” This -gallant officer, and polished gentleman, the favourite of -Cornwallis, subsequently fell at the battle of Guilford -Court-House, not more regretted by his brother soldiers, -than admired by those of the American army.</p> - -<p>There is nothing more true, than that in war as in -love, much depends upon accident, and an alarm is frequently -conveyed and a victory won, by circumstances<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> -entirely the act of chance. As a case in point. In the -retreat of the British after the battle of Monks’ Corner, -Lt. Col. Stuart ordered all the arms belonging to the -dead and wounded to be collected, and when the retreating -enemy had marched on, they were set fire to -by the rear guard. As many of the muskets were -loaded, an irregular discharge followed, resembling the -desultory fire which usually precedes a battle. The -retreating army immediately supposed, that Greene was -up and had commenced an attack on their rear—and -the dismay and confusion was so great, that the wagoners -cut the traces of their horses and galloped off, -leaving the wagons on the route. The followers of -the army fled in like manner, and the terror was rapidly -increasing, when the cessation of the firing quelled the -alarm.</p> - -<p>But the most exciting incident that our fellow voyager -related, and one which would well merit the attention -of the painter, was the spirited affair at Quinby’s -Bridge. When the British army in their turn -were retreating, Sumpter, Marion and Lee frequently -were able to act in concert. The 19th British Regiment, -Lt. Col. Coates, having become isolated at -Monks’ Corner, Marion and Lee determined to fall -upon it, and cut it off by surprise before it could obtain -relief. The British officer having taken the precaution -to secure the bridge across the Cooper river -by a strong detachment, it became necessary for them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span> -to make a long circuit, through the deep sands in the -hottest part of the summer, before they could form a -junction with Sumpter, whose aid was required in the -intended attack. The junction was not effected until -evening, and the attack was necessarily deferred until -the following morning; but about midnight the whole -sky becoming illuminated by a great conflagration, it -was evident that the enemy had taken the alarm. They -had set fire to the church to destroy the stores, and had -decamped in silence. By the neglect of the militia, -who had deserted a bridge at which they were -stationed, the enemy had been able to draw off, and -obtain a considerable distance in advance, before their -retreat was discovered. Lee immediately followed -on with the cavalry in pursuit of the main body, but -was unable to come up with it, until he had arrived -in the neighbourhood of Quinby’s Bridge, about eighteen -miles from Monks’ Corner. Upon his first approach, -he discovered the baggage of the regiment -under a rear guard of about one hundred men, advancing -along a narrow road, the margin of which was -bordered by a deep swamp on both sides. As soon as -the cavalry came in view, the British officer formed -his men across the road, which they had hardly effected, -when the charge was sounded, and the Legion cavalry -rushed upon them with drawn swords at full -gallop. The voice of the British officer was distinctly -heard: “Front rank,—bayonets—second rank,—fire!”—and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> -as no discharge immediately followed, the cavalry -officers felt extreme solicitude, lest its reservation was -meant to make it the more fatal on their near approach, -for on the narrow road, and in the close column in -which they were rushing on, a well-directed fire would -have emptied half of their saddles—but happily the -soldiers, alarmed by the formidable appearance of the -cavalry, threw down their arms and supplicated for -quarter, which the cavalry were most happy to grant -them. The prisoners being secured, the main body of -the cavalry pushed on under Armstrong for the bridge, -which was still about three miles in front, in the hope -of cutting off the enemy before they should succeed in -reaching it. As Armstrong came in sight, he found that -Coates had passed the bridge, and that he was indolently -reposing on the opposite side of the river, awaiting his -rear guard and baggage. He had, by way of precaution, -taken up the planks from the bridge, letting them -lie loosely on the sleepers, intending as soon as the -rear should have crossed, to destroy it. Seeing the -enemy with the bridge thus interposed, which he knew -was contrary to the commandant’s anticipations, Armstrong -drew up, and sent back word to Lee, who was -still with the prisoners, requesting orders, never communicating -the fact that the bridge was interposed. -Lee’s adjutant soon came galloping back with the laconic -answer:—“The order of the day, sir, is to fall -upon the enemy, without regard to consequences.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span></p> - -<p>The gallant Armstrong for a moment leaned forward -in his saddle, towards the adjutant, as if thunder-struck, -with this reflection on his courage,—in the next his -sword glanced like a streak of light around his head, -his noble horse leapt with a snort clear of the ground, -as the spur-rowels were buried to the gaffs in his sides, -and in another shouting in a voice of thunder—“Legion -cavalry, charge!” at the head of his section, he cleared -the bridge, the horses throwing off the loose planks in -every direction, the next instant driving the soldiers -headlong from the howitzer which they had mounted -at the other end to defend it, he was cutting and slashing -in the very centre of the British regiment, which, -taken completely by surprise, threw down their arms, -retreating in every direction. The horses of Armstrong’s -section had thrown off the planks as they -cleared the bridge, leaving a yawning chasm, beneath -which the deep black stream was rushing turbidly onwards; -but Lt. Carrington, at the head of his section, -took the leap and closed with Armstrong, engaged in a -desperate personal encounter with Lt. Col. Coates, -who had had barely time to throw himself with a few -of his officers behind some baggage-wagons, where -they were parrying the sabre cuts made by the dragoons -at their heads. Most of the soldiers, alarmed at -the sudden attack, had abandoned their officers, and -were running across the fields, to shelter themselves -in a neighbouring farm-house. Lee, by this time, had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> -himself got up to the bridge, where O’Neal, with -the third section had halted, the chasm having been so -much enlarged by Carrington’s horses throwing off -additional planks, that his horses would not take the -leap, and seeing the howitzer abandoned, and the whole -regiment dispersed, except the few officers who -were defending themselves with their swords, while -they called upon the flying soldiers for assistance, he -proceeded to recover and replace the planks. The -river was deep in mud, and still deeper in water, so -that the dragoons could neither get a footing to re-place -the planks, nor a firm spot from which they might -swim their horses to the aid of their comrades. -Seeing this posture of affairs, some of the bravest of -the British soldiers began to hurry back to the assistance -of their officers, and Armstrong and Carrington, -being unable to sustain with only one troop of dragoons, -so unequal a combat, they abandoned the contest, forcing -their way down the great road, into the woods on the -margin of the stream, in the effort to rejoin the corps. -Relieved from the immediate danger, Coates hastened -back to the bridge, and opened a fire from the deserted -howitzer upon Lee and the soldiers, who were fruitlessly -striving to repair the bridge, and being armed -only with their sabres, which the chasm made perfectly -useless, as they could not reach the enemy -across it, they were also forced to give up the attempt, -and retire without the range of the fire from the gun.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span></p> - -<p>Marion shortly after coming up, in conjunction with -Lee marched some distance down the banks, where -they were enabled to ford the stream, and effect a passage. -In the edge of the evening, they reached the -farm-house, but found that Coates had fortified himself -within it, with his howitzer, and was thus impregnable -to cavalry. “While halting in front, Armstrong and -Carrington came up with their shattered sections. Neither -of the officers were hurt, but many of the bravest -dragoons were killed, and still more wounded. Some -of their finest fellows—men, who had passed through -the whole war esteemed and admired, had fallen in -this honourable but unsuccessful attempt.” Being -without artillery, and within striking distance of -Charleston, they were obliged, fatigued as they were, to -commence their retreat. Placing the wounded in the -easiest posture for conveyance, and laying the dead on -the pommels of their saddles, the Legion counter-marched -fifteen miles; at its close, burying in sadness -and grief in one common sepulchre the bodies of those -that had fallen.</p> - -<p>These anecdotes of the Legion are but a few of the -many stirring and spirited narrations with which Lee -whiled away the time, as we glided along on our return -up the river. His own observations and adventures -in travelling over the world were not wanting for -our amusement, for, with a mind well prepared for its -enjoyment, he had passed the years that had intervened,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> -since I last saw him, in travelling leisurely over -Europe and the East. With the true philosophy of -life, calling all men brothers, and restrained by no narrow -prejudices of country or habit, he had entered -eagerly into the manners and participated in the amusements -of those around him. First after the hounds in -England, he shouted “tally ho!” with all the enthusiasm -of the veriest sportsman in the hunt; while his -voice was heard equally loud and jovial in the wild -and half frantic chorus of the drinking and smoking -students of Germany. He scrupled not to wear his -beard long, and partake of the hard black loaf in the -cabin of the Russian boor, while, with equal equanimity -he wore his turban, and smoked his chiboque -cross-legged in the caffarets of Turkey. He climbed -the huge pyramids, and their dark and silent chambers -echoed the sounds of his voice, as he called on Cheops, -Isis and Orus; and, kneeling in the gorgeous -mosque of Omar, he worshipped the true God, while -the muzzeim from its minarets was proclaiming, that -Mahomet was his prophet. He had luxuriated amid -the never-dying works of the great masters at Florence, -and, lulled by the harmonious chaunt of the gondolier, -had swept over the moonlit lagoons of Venice. He -had whirled in all the gaiety of living Paris, and -measured with careful steps the silent streets of dead -Herculaneum and Pompeii. He had stood amid the -awful stillness on the glittering ice-covered summits of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> -Mont Blanc, and looked fearlessly down into the great -roaring caverns of fire boiling in the crater of Vesuvius—but -now there was a sadness about his heart -which rarely lighted up, and, as I have observed, it was -only under momentary excitement that he blazed into -brilliant entertainment.</p> - -<p>As the fresh breeze wafted us swiftly onwards, Venus, -mid the stars trembling in unnumbered myriads, -rivalled with her silvery rays the great round-orbed -moon, sailing joyously in her career high in the heavens -above us,—and soon the bright beacon on the -plantation shore, lighted for our guidance, shone steadily -over the dark water, and ere long we were all -quietly seated at the supper-table, with our beautiful -hostess at its head,—again in Tom’s cottage on the -banks of the Potomac.</p> - -<p class="tb smaller"><span class="smcap">Note.</span>—The incidents related in the above article are derived -from “Lee’s Southern Campaigns” and “Col. Gardner’s Military -Anecdotes,” where, if he has not already perused them, the -reader will find much to interest and amuse him.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="HUDSON_RIVER">HUDSON RIVER.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>Here we are met again, all booted and spurred, and -ready for another journey. Come, let us make the -most of our time on this mundane sphere, for verily -we are but two of the automata of the great moving -panorama which is so rapidly hastening o’er its surface—two -of the unnumbered millions who, lifted -from our cradles, are hurrying with like equal haste -towards the great dark curtain of the future, where, -drawing its gloomy folds aside, we shall pass behind -and disappear for ever. Therefore let us hasten; for -though some of us complacently imagine that we are -bound on our own special road and chosen journey, -yet, surely we are but travelling the path which has -been marked out for us by an all-seeing Providence; -and though, like soldiers, we may be marching, as -we suppose, to good billets and snug quarters, yet -perhaps, before the day’s route be closed, we shall be -plunged into the centre of the battle-field, with sad curtailment -of our history. Tempus fugit! Therefore let -us hasten, for, in a few short years, some modern Hamlet -o’er our tomb-stones thus shall moralize: “Here -be two fellows tucked up right cosily in their last<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -quarters, ‘at their heads a grass-green turf, and at their -heels a stone.’ Humph! for all their stillness, I warrant -me, they’ve strutted their mimic stage, and flaunted -with the best; they’ve had their ups and downs, their -whims and fancies, their schemes and projects, their -loves and hates,—have been elated with vast imaginings, -and depressed to the very ocean’s depths; and now -their little day and generation passed, they’re settled -to their rest. The school-boy astride on one’s memento, -with muddy heels kicks out his epitaph, while -the other’s name is barely visible among the thistle’s -aspiring tops,—yet both alike have rendered, with the -whole human family, the same brief epitome of history. -‘They laughed—they groaned—they wept—and here -they are,’ for such are but the features of bright, confiding -youth, stern manhood’s trials, and imbecile old -age.” And this same sage Hamlet’s right; therefore, -without more ado, let us get us on our travels.</p> - -<p>So, here we are in the Jerseys. Now <i>westward</i> -shall lie our course. Here come the cars. Quick—jump -in—here is a good seat, close by the old -gentleman in the India-rubber cape. Ding, ding—ding, -ding. There goes the bell. Shwist, shwist. -We are off. Clank—jirk—click—click—clickety—click—click. -Here we go. We fly over the bridges, -and through the tunnels; the rail fences spin by -us in ribands; the mile-stones play leap-frog; the -abutments dash by us. Screech! the cattle jump<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span> -like mad out of our way. Already at Jersey City? -We paddle across. Ay, here we are, just in time, on -board the “Swallow.” What a pandemonium of racket, -and noise, and confusion! Steam yelling, bells ringing, -boys and negroes bawling, porters and hackmen hurrying.—“Get -out of my way, you dirty little baboon, -with your papers.”—“Thank you, madam, no oranges.”—“All -aboard.”—Tinkle, tinkle.—The walking-beam -rises, the heavy wheels splash.—We shoot -out into the stream.—We make a graceful curve, and, -simultaneously with five other steamers, stretch like -race-horses up the majestic Hudson.</p> - -<p>How beautifully the Narrows and the Ocean open to -our view, and the noble bay, studded with its islands, -and fortresses, and men-of-war, “tall, high admirals,” -with frowning batteries and chequered sides. In what -graceful amity float the nations’ emblems—the Tricolour, -the Red Cross, the Black Eagle, the Stars -and Stripes. But we take the lead. Fire up—fire up, -engineer,—her namesake cuts the air not more swiftly -than our fleet boat her element. Still as a mirror lies -the tranquil water. The dark pallisades above us, -with fringed and picturesque outline, are reflected on -its polished surface; and the lordly sloops, see how -lazily they roll and pitch on the long undulating swell -made by our progress, their scarlet pennons quivering -on its surface as it regains its smoothness.</p> - -<p>How rich and verdant extend thy shores, delightful<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span> -river! Oh! kindly spirit—Crayon, Diedrick, Irving, -whate’er we call thee,—with what delightful Indian -summer of rustic story, of dreamy legend, hast thou -invested them? Lo! as we slide along, what moving -panorama presents itself? Phlegmatic Mynheers, in -sleepy Elysium, evolve huge smoke-wreaths of the -fragrant weed as they watch thy placid stream. Blooming -Katrinas, budding like roses out of their boddices, -coquette with adoring Ichabods,—sturdy, broad-breeched -beaux, sound “boot and saddle.” Roaring -Broms dash along on old Gun-powders. Headless -horsemen thunder onwards through Haunted hollows—heads -on saddle-bow. Dancing, laughing negroes—irate, -rubicund trumpeters—huge Dutch merry-makings—groaning -feasts, and loafing, hen-pecked Rips, -pass in review before us. And now, as we open the -Tappan Zee, see! see Old Hendrick,—see the old -fellow in his scarlet cloak, his gallant hanger, cocked-hat, -and many-buttoned breeches—see how the huge -clouds of smoke, encircling his nose, float upwards, as, -seated on his lofty poop, he sluggishly lays his course. -See the old Dutchman—no—stop! stop!—’tis but a -creature of thy fantasy, floating in the setting sunlight. -Oh! historian of Columbus, with thy fellow-spirit, -him of the “North Star,” and the “Evening -Wind,” gently, yet sorrowfully you float above the -miasma clouds of gain, that in their poisonous wreaths -envelope your countrymen. In the evening twilight<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> -thy beacon, Stony Point, throws far its streaming rays -o’er the darkening scenery, different, I ween, when -mid midnight mist and stillness, mid cannon-blaze and -roar, “Mad Anthony’s” attacking columns simultaneously -struck the flag-staff in thy centre. The sparks -stream rocket-like from our chimneys, as we enter -your dark embrace, ye Highlands! Hark! the roll of -the drum, as we round the bend—thy beautiful plateau, -West Point, with its gallant spirits, is above us. Success -to thee, school of the brave! Engineers for her -hours of peace, soldiers in war to lead her armies, dost -thou furnish to thy country—brave, enduring men. -When fell thy sons other than in the battle’s front? -when in the fiercest danger were they found recreant? -Aye, well may Echo answer “When?”</p> - -<p>The thunder of thy bowling balls, Old Hudson, we -hear as we pass the gorges of the Catskill. Hyde -Park, thou glancest by us—the villas of the Rensselaers -and Livingstons flit ’mid their green trees,—thy -cottages, oh Kinderhook—the Overslaugh—rush by -us, and now we are at Albany. Albany, Rochester, -Utica, by smoaking steam-car, we are delivered from -you. Auburn, we breathe among thy shady walks—and -now, for a moment, Buffalo, we rest with thee. -All hail to thee, thou city of the Bison Bull! Great -caravansera and resting-place of coming nations! Byzantium -of the future—hail! As on a quay shall meet -hereafter, through the Lawrence and the Oregon, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> -hardy seamen of the Atlantic and Pacific, the Otaheitean -and the fair-haired Swede; while the bronzed -trapper, the savage Blackfoot, the greasy Esquimaux, -and half-civilized voyageur, shall mingle with astonishment -and admiration on thy busy marts. Hail! -hail! to thee, thou city of the desert lord, all hail!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="NIGHT_ATTACK_ON_FORT_ERIE">NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE.</h2> - -<p class="center">(August 14th, 1814.)</p> - -</div> - -<p>Hostler! bring up the horses, we will cross to the -Canadian shore, and ride leisurely o’er its battlegrounds. -Tighten the girths, John. Take up another -hole. So—never mind the stirrup. Jump—I’m -in my saddle. Are you ready?—<i>Allons.</i> Well -broken is that grey of yours, he has a good long -trot—how easy it makes your rise in the saddle, and -how graceful is the gait. But here we are at the -Ferry. Now, we cross thy stream, Niagara! Now, -we stand on British ground! Generous and gallant -blood has deeply stained its soil! Observe these -crumbling works—the old stone fort facing the river—the -remains of ramparts and trenches—here a bastion—further -on, a redoubt—there again lines and earthworks, -forming a continuous circle of defence, but all -now fast sinking to their original level. These are, or -rather were, the fortress and defences of “Fort Erie.” -When some years since I rode over the ground with -our kind and excellent friend, the Major, I listened -with great interest to his narration of the part of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> -campaign acted upon this spot and the adjoining country. -I will repeat it to you as we ride over it. Jump -your horse upon this decaying mound—it was a bastion.</p> - -<p>Standing on this bastion, “Here,” said the Major, -“we had thrown up our lines, making the defences as -strong as practicable. The British had also erected -formidable works about half a mile in front, (the forest -intervening,) composed of a large stone battery on -their left, and two strong redoubts, from which they -kept up an incessant discharge of shot and shells for -several successive days, which was returned by us -with equal vigour. At length a shell from their batteries -having fallen upon it, blew up one of our small -magazines, but with trifling injury to the rest of the defences. -They greatly miscalculated the damage, and -were elated with their success, and General Gaines -received secret information that they intended to -carry the works by storm on the following night. -That night, said the Major, I shall not soon forget. -It set in intensely dark and cloudy, extremely favourable -to the design of the enemy. Every thing -was put in the fullest state of preparation to receive -them. The men enthusiastically awaiting the attack, -were ordered to lie on their arms. Extended along -the lines, and manning the fort and bastion, our little -army, in perfect silence, awaited their coming.</p> - -<p>The forest had been cleared about three hundred -yards in front of our works—beyond that were, as you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> -see, the woods. As the night wore on, we listened -with earnestness to every sound. A little after midnight, -we heard on the dry leaves the stealthy sound -of footsteps—pat—patter—patter. We listened—they -came nearer. A short, sharp challenge: “Who goes -there?” issued from that farther redoubt. The footsteps -ceased, as if irresolute to advance or recede, and -all was still. Another quick challenge—a rattle of the -musket, as it fell into the hollow of the hand,—followed -the reply:—“Picquet guard, forced in by the -enemy’s advance”—“Back, guard! back to your -posts instantly, or we will fire upon you,” rung the -stern voice of our commanding officer. The footsteps -of the stragglers slowly receded, and entire stillness -again obtained. It was as profound as the darkness, -not even the hum of an insect rose upon the ear. We -laid our heads upon the ramparts, and listened with all -our faculties. We listened. Perhaps half an hour -elapsed, when we imagined we heard the dead, heavy -sound of a large body of men—tramp—tramp—tramp—advancing -through the pitchy darkness. A few -moments passed—a brisk scattering fire, and the picquets -came in in beautiful order, under the brave subaltern -in command. The measured tread of disciplined -troops became apparent. Every sense was -stretched to the utmost in expectancy—every eye endeavoured -to fathom the darkness in front, when, from -Towson’s battery, that towards the river, glanced a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> -volley of musquetry, and in another instant, the whole -line of the works, bastion, redoubt, and rampart, -streamed forth one living sheet of flame. Two eighteens, -mounted where we stand, were filled to the muzzle -with grape, cannister, and bags of musket-bullets—imagine -their havoc. The enemy came on with -loud shouts and undaunted bravery. By the continued -glare of our discharges, we could see dense dark masses -of men, moving in columns to three separate points -of attack upon our works. Our artillery and musketry -poured on them as they advanced a continual stream -of fire, rolling and glancing from angles, bastions, and -redoubts. Repulsed—they were re-formed by their -officers, and brought again to the charge, to be again -repulsed. At such times, hours fly like minutes. A -life appears concentrated to a moment. We had been -engaged perhaps an hour—perhaps three, when I heard -in that bastion of the Fort, a hundred feet from me, -above the uproar, a quick, furious struggle, as if of men -engaged in fierce death-fight; a clashing of bayonets, -and sharp pistol shots, mixed with heavy blows, and -short quick breathing, such as you may have heard -men make in violent exertion—in cutting wood with -axes, or other severe manual labour. The conflict, -though fierce, was short—the assailants were repelled. -Those that gained a footing were bayonetted, or -thrown back over the parapet. In a few moments, I -heard again the same fierce struggle, and again followed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> -the like result and stillness—if stillness could -be said to exist under continual roar of musketry and -artillery. A third time it rose, sudden and desperate; -it ceased, and presently a clear loud voice rose high -above the battle from the bastion: “Stop firing in front -there, you are firing on your friends.” An instant cessation -followed. We were deceived. In another -moment, the voice of an officer with startling energy -replied: “Aye, aye, we’ll stop: give it them, men, -give it them!”—and the firing, renewed, was continued -with redoubled fury. The head of the centre column, -composed of eight hundred picked men, the veterans of -Egypt, led by Lieut. Col. Drummond in person, after -three several assaults, had gained possession of the -bastion, and by that ruse, endeavoured to cause a cessation -of the fire—a result that might have been fatal -to us, had not the deception been so soon discerned. -But the prize was of little value, as the bastion was -commanded by the interior of the works, and the men, -under cover of the walls of an adjoining barrack, -poured into the gorge that led from it, a continued -storm of musketry. The firing continued with unabated -fury. The enemy, repulsed with great loss in -every attack, was unsuccessful on every point save -that bastion, the possession of which they still retained—when -I heard a groaning roll and shake of the earth, -and instantly the bastion, bodies of men, timber, guns, -earth and stones, were blown up in the air like a volcano,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> -making every thing in the glare as clear as noon-day. -A descending timber dashed one of my artillerymen to -pieces within a foot of my shoulder. Profound darkness -and silence followed. Naught but the groans of -the wounded and dying were heard. As if by mutual -consent, the fighting ceased, and the enemy withdrew, -repulsed on every side, save from the parapet which -they purchased for their grave. A large quantity of -fixed ammunition had been placed in the lower part, -and a stray wad falling upon it, had blown them all up -together. My duty required that I should immediately -repair the bastion, and most horrible was the sight—bodies -burnt and mutilated—some of them still pulsating -with life, among them Lieut. Colonel Drummond, -the leader of the attack. There he lay in the morning -light, stark and stiff, extended on the rampart, a ball -having passed through his breast. History mourns, -that his courage assumed the character of ferocity. -His war-cry of “No quarter to the damned Yankees,” -his own death-warrant, was long remembered against -his countrymen. The enemy did not resume the attack, -but retiring to their entrenched camp, strengthened -their works, and prepared to make their approach -by regular advances.</p> - -<p>But come, spur on, we have far to ride—spur on. -Here we are upon their works. Here is the stone -water-battery, and there the two strong redoubts, and -back of them the remains of their lines, and deep entrenchments.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> -These are the works which were carried -in the memorable and desperate sortie of Fort Erie. -The right by Davis and Miller; the left by Porter and -his volunteers. Here, on the left, quoth the Major, fell -my gallant, my accomplished friend, Lieut. Col. Wood, -at the head of his column. He was one of the most -brilliant officers in the service, and as beautiful as a -girl. I often gazed with astonishment at the desperate -daring that characterised him in action; here he -fell; he was bayonetted to death on the ground, on -this spot“—and the Major’s voice quivered, and he -turned his face from me, for the cruel death of his dear -friend was too much for his manhood. His ashes sleep -amid the Highlands of the Hudson, beneath their -monument, near the flag-staff at West Point. Peace -to his gallant spirit! The stars of his country can -wave over no braver of her sons.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BATTLE_OF_LUNDYS_LANE">BATTLE OF LUNDY’S LANE.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>We cross thy tranquil plains, Oh! Chippewa. -Scott—Ripley—Towson—Hindman—brave soldiers; -long will this battle-ground your names remember. -And thou too, Riall! brave Englishman, foeman wert -thou worthy of warriors’ steel. But far different -music has resounded through these continuous -woods than the wild bird’s carol, the hum of insects, -and the waving of the breeze that now so gently greets -our ear. Ay! yonder it is—yonder is the white house. -There, said the Major, as General Scott, making a -forward movement with his brigade in the afternoon of -the 25th of July, 1814, came in view of it, we saw the -court-yard filled with British officers, their horses held -by orderlies and servants in attendance. As soon as -we became visible to them, their bugles sounded to -saddle, and in a few moments they were mounted and -soon disappeared through the woods at full gallop, -twenty bugles ringing the alarm from different parts of -the forest. All vanished as if swallowed by the earth, -save an elegant veteran officer, who reined up just out -of musket shot, and took a leisurely survey of our -numbers. Having apparently satisfied himself of our -force, he raised the plumed hat from his head, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span> -bowing gracefully to our cortege, put spurs to his -horse and disappeared with the rest. From the occupant -of the house we gathered that we were about a -mile distant from a strong body of the enemy, posted -in the rising ground just beyond the woods in our front. -General Scott, turning to one of his escort, said, “Be -kind enough, sir, to return to Major General Brown; -inform him that I have fallen in with the enemy’s advance, -posted in force at ‘<i>Lundy’s Lane</i>,’ and that in -one half hour, I shall have joined battle.” “Order up -Ripley with the second brigade,—direct Porter to get -his volunteers immediately under arms,” was the brief -reply of Major General Brown to my message, and the -aids were instantly in their saddles, conveying the -orders. As I galloped back through the woods, continued -the Major, the cannon shot screaming by me, -tearing the trees and sending the rail fences in the air -in their course, warned me that the contest had begun.—But -we are on the battle-ground. There, said the -Major, upon the verge of that sloping hill, parallel -with the road, and through the grave-yard towards the -Niagara, was drawn up the British line under General -Riall, in force three times greater than our brigade—his -right covered with a powerful battery of nine pieces of -artillery, two of them brass twenty-fours.</p> - -<p>The <i>Eleventh</i> and <i>Twenty-second</i> regiments first leaving -the wood, deployed upon the open ground with the -coolness and regularity of a review,—and were soon engaged<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> -furiously in action; the fire from the enemy’s -line and from the batteries, which completely commanded -the position, opening upon them with tremendous -effect. Towson, having hurried up with his guns on the -left, in vain endeavoured to attain sufficient elevation -to return the fire of their battery. The destruction on -our side was very great;—the two regiments fought -with consummate bravery. They were severely cut -up, their ammunition became exhausted, and their officers -nearly all of them having been killed and wounded, -they were withdrawn from action,—the few officers -remaining unhurt throwing themselves into the <i>Ninth</i>, -which now came into action, led by the gallant Colonel -Leavenworth.</p> - -<p>The brunt of the battle now came upon them, and -they alone sustained it for some time, fighting with unflinching -bravery, until their numbers were reduced to -one-half by the fire of the enemy. At this juncture, -General Scott galloped up with the intention of charging -up the hill; but finding them so much weakened, -altered his intention, entreating them to hold their -ground until the reinforcements, which were hastening -up, should come to their assistance. A momentary -cessation of the action ensued, while additional forces -hurried up to the aid of each army—Ripley’s brigade, -Hindman’s artillery, and Porter’s volunteers, on the part -of the Americans, and a strong reinforcement under -General Drummond on that of the British. Hindman’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> -artillery were attached to that of Towson, and soon -made themselves heard. Porter’s brigade displayed on -the left, while Ripley formed on the skirts of the wood -to the right of Scott’s brigade. The engagement was -soon renewed, with augmented vigour; General Drummond -taking command in person, with his fresh troops -in the front line of the enemy. Colonel Jesup, who -had at the commencement of the action been posted -on the right, succeeded, after a gallant contest, in turning -the left flank of the enemy, and came in upon his -reserve, “burdened with prisoners, making himself -visible to his own army, amid the darkness, in a blaze -of fire,” completely destroying all before him. The -fight raged for some time with great fury, but it became -apparent, uselessly to the Americans, if the -enemy retained possession of the battery, manifestly -the key of the position.</p> - -<p>I was standing at the side of Colonel Miller, -said the Major, when General Brown rode up and -inquired, whether he could storm the battery with his -regiment, while General Ripley supported him with -the younger regiment, the <i>Twenty-third</i>. Miller, amid -the uproar and confusion, deliberately surveyed the -position, then quietly turning with infinite coolness -replied, “<i>I’ll try, sir.</i>” I think I see him now, -said the Major, as drawing up his gigantic figure to -its full height, he turned to his regiment, drilled -to the precision of a piece of mechanism, I hear -his deep lion tones—“<i>Twenty-first</i>—attention!—form<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> -into column. You will advance up the hill to the storm -of the battery—at the word ‘halt,’ you will deliver -your fire at the port-lights of the artillerymen, and immediately -carry the guns at the point of the bayonet.—Support -arms—double quick—march!” Machinery -could not have moved with more compactness than that -gallant regiment followed the fearless stride of its -leader. Supported by the <i>Twenty-third</i>, the dark -mass moved up the hill like one body,—the lurid light -glittering and flickering on their bayonets, as the combined -fire of the enemy’s artillery and infantry opened -murderously upon them. They flinched not—they -faltered not—the stern deep voices of the officers, as the -deadly cannon-shot cut yawning chasms through them, -alone was heard. “Close up—steady, men—steady.” -Within a hundred yards of the summit, the loud -“Halt” was followed by a volley—sharp, instantaneous, -as a clap of thunder. Another moment, rushing -under the white smoke, a short furious struggle with -the bayonet, and the artillerymen were swept like chaff -from their guns. Another fierce struggle—the enemy’s -line was forced down the side of the hill, and the victory -was ours—the position entirely in our hands—their -own pieces turned and playing upon them in -their retreat. It was bought at cruel price—most -of the officers being either killed or wounded. The -whole tide of the battle now turned to this point. -The result of the conflict depended entirely upon the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span> -ability of the victorious party to retain it. Major -Hindman was ordered up, and posted his forces at the -side of the captured cannon, while the American line -correspondingly advanced. Stung with mortification, -the brave General Drummond concentrated his forces, -to retake by a desperate charge the position. The interval -amid the darkness was alone filled by the roar of -the cataracts, and the groans of the wounded. He advanced -with strong reinforcements, outflanking each -side of the American line. We were only able, in the -murky darkness, to ascertain their approach by their -heavy tread. “They halted within twenty paces—poured -in a rapid fire and prepared for the rush.” Directed -by the blaze, our men returned it with deadly -effect, and after a desperate struggle, the dense column -recoiled. Another interval of darkness and silence, -and again a most furious and desperate charge was -made by the British, throwing the whole weight of their -attack upon the American centre. The gallant <i>Twenty-first</i>, -which composed it, receiving them with undaunted -firmness—while the fire from our lines was “dreadfully -effective,” Hindman’s artillery served with the -most perfect coolness and effect. Staggering, they -again recoiled. During this second attack, General -Scott in person, his shattered brigade now consolidated -into a single battalion, made two determined charges -upon the right and left flank of the enemy, and in these -he received the scars which his countrymen now see<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span> -upon his manly front. Our men were now almost worn -down with fatigue, dying with thirst, for which they -could gain no relief. The British, with fresh reinforcements—their -men recruited and rested—after the interval -of another hour, made their third and final effort -to regain the position. They advanced—delivered -their fire as before—and although it was returned with -the same deadly effect, they steadily pressed forward. -The <i>Twenty-first</i> again sustained the shock, and both -lines were soon engaged in a “conflict, obstinate and -dreadful beyond description.” The right and left of the -American line fell back for a moment, but were immediately -rallied by their officers. “So desperate did -the battle now become, that many battalions on both -sides were forced back,” the men engaged in indiscriminate -melée, fought hand to hand, and with muskets -clubbed; and “so terrific was the conflict where the -cannon were stationed, that Major Hindman had to -engage them over his guns and gun-carriages, and -finally to spike two of his pieces, under the apprehension -that they would fall into the hands of the enemy.” -General Ripley at length made a most desperate and -determined charge upon both of the enemy’s flanks—they -wavered—recoiled—gave way—and the centre -soon following, they relinquished the fight and made a -final retreat. The annals of warfare on this continent -have never shown more desperate fighting. Bayonets -were repeatedly crossed, and after the action, many of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span> -the men were found mutually transfixed. The British -force engaged was about five thousand men;—the -American thirty-five hundred: the combined loss in -killed and wounded, seventeen hundred and twenty-two, -officers and men. The battle commenced at half-past -four o’clock in the afternoon, and did not terminate -till midnight. We were so mingled, said the Major, -and so great the confusion in the darkness, that as I -was sitting with a group of officers in the earlier part -of the night, on horseback, a British soldier came up to -us, and recovering his musket, under the supposition that -he was addressing one of his own officers, said, “Colonel -Gordon will be much obliged, sir, if you will march -up the three hundred men in the road to his assistance -immediately, as he is very hard pressed.” I called him -nearer, and pressing his musket down over my holsters, -made him prisoner. “What have I done, sir,” said -the astonished man, “what have I done?” and to convince -British officers, as he supposed, of his loyalty, -exclaimed, “Hurrah for the King, and damn the Yankees.” -As he was marched to the rear, the poor fellow -was cut down by a grape shot. In another part of the -field, an American aid pulled up suddenly on a body -of men under full march. In reply to his demand, -“What regiment is that?” he was answered, “The -Royal Scots.” With great presence of mind, he replied, -“Halt! Royal Scots’, till further orders,” and -then turning his horse’s head, galloped from their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> -dangerous proximity. It was a horrid conflict. Humanity -sighs over the slaughter of the brave men that -fell in it.</p> - -<p>But here we are, at the grave-yard, with its drooping -willows and flowering locusts. Still—still—and quiet -now. No armed men disturb its calmness and repose—no -ponderous artillery wheels rudely cut its consecrated -mounds—no ruffian jest—no savage execration—no -moan of anguish, break now upon its hallowed -silence. The long grass and blossoming heather -waive green alike over the graves of friend and enemy. -The marble tells the story of the few—the -many, their very parents know not their resting place. -See this broken wooden slab—it has rotted off even -with the ground, and lies face downwards, the earthworm -burrowing under it, in this neglected corner. -Pull the grass aside; turn it over with your foot. What, -the nearly effaced inscription?</p> - -<p class="inscription">“<span class="gothic">Sacred</span><br /> -<span class="allsmcap">TO THE MEMORY OF</span><br /> -CAPT’N —— BROWN,<br /> -<span class="allsmcap">OF THE</span><br /> -21st Regiment<br /> -<span class="allsmcap">WHO DIED OF WOUNDS RECEIVED IN ACTION,<br /> -WITH THE ENEMY, ON THE<br /> -25TH OF JULY, 1814.</span>”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span></p> - -<p>And this is honour! This is fame! Why, brave -man! e’en now, I read the tribute to thy bravery in -the bulletin of the action. Thou had’st comrades—father, -mother, sisters—to mourn thy loss—and <i>now</i>, -the stranger’s foot carelessly spurns thy frail memento; -nor father, mother, sisters, nor human hand can -point to the spot where rest thy ashes. Peace to -thy manes! brave countrymen, where’er they sleep.</p> - -<p>See from this point how gently and gracefully undulates -the battle-field; the woods bowing to the evening -breeze, as the soft sunlight pours through their branches -show not the gashes of rude cannon shot—the -plain, loaded and bending with the yellow harvest, -betrays no human gore—yon hill scathed, scorched -and blackened with cannon flame, the very resting place -of the deadly battery, shows no relic of the fierce -death struggle, as covered with the fragrant clover and -wild blue-bell, the bee in monotonous hum banquets -o’er it. Nought mars the serenity of nature as she -smiles upon us. Yet, burnt in common funeral pyre, -the ashes of those brave men, of friend and foe, there -mingle in the bosom whence they issued. The frenzied -passion passed, the furious conflict o’er, they have -lain down in quiet, and like young children, sleep -gently, sweetly, in the lap of that common mother -who shelters with like protection the little field mouse -from its gambols, and the turbaned Sultan sinking -amid his prostrate millions. Shades of my gallant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> -countrymen! Shades of their daring foes—farewell. -Ne’er had warriors more glorious death-couch,—the -eternal Cataracts roar your requiem.</p> - -<p class="tb smaller">The reader’s attention is requested to the more detailed account -of this action in the <a href="#APPENDIX">Appendix</a>. The inscription on the tablet -is given from recollection, and it is possible that the number of the -Regiment may not be the one to which this officer belonged.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="LAKE_GEORGE_AND_TICONDEROGA">LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>The Sun of Morning hurls himself in blazing splendour -o’er thy crystal waters, beautiful Horicon, as we -float upon thy placid bosom, not as of yore, in feathery -canoe, but in gaily-coloured bark, drawn by Steam -Spirit, as he vainly strives to break his fiery prison. -See, how he puffs and pants in the fierce embrace of -the glowing element; in furious efforts dragging us -onward with frantic swiftness, e’en as the frightened -steed, the vehicle wildly bounding after him. As the -valve of safety opens, hear the shriek of mad delight, -with which exultingly he proclaims his freedom;—now, -the iron portal closed, how like Sampson in the -Prison Mill, struggling, giant-like, he again applies -him to his toil. Imprisoned Spirit! there is no help -for thee. Sweat thou must, and pant, and groan, till, -like thy fellow-labourer, man, released from fire fetter, -as he of earth, resolved to pure ether, thou shalt float -again free and delighted in the clear elements above!</p> - -<p>Ho! brother spirit, tarry, tarry—wait thou a little -’till I join thee,—then, how gallantly we’ll ride! -Couched on summer clouds, lazily we’ll float: or, -glancing on sun rays, shoot swift as thought, ’mid the -bright worlds rolling in sublimity above us. We’ll<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> -bathe in the Moon’s cold splendour, fan in the sultry -heat of crimson Mars, slide upon Saturn’s eternal -snows, or joyously gambolling along the Milky Way, -we’ll chase the starry Serpent to his den. Ho! brother -spirit;—but, we must bide our time—madly now -in wild career, thou sweep’st the placid lake from under -us.</p> - -<p>But whom have we here? A sturdy hunter in homespun -clad, with his long rifle—his broad-chested -hounds in quiet, sleeping at his feet; our fellow-passenger, -’till landed on some mountain side, he follows -his sylvan war. Clear animal health and vigour shine -from each lineament—with what open, unsuspicious -manhood—what boundless freedom he comports himself. -Ha! what is it, hound? What is it? Why dost -shake thy pendant ears and gaze so keenly in the distance—and -why that plaintive howl? Ay, ay, hunter, -thy practised eye hath caught it. On yon wooded -island to the windward—a noble buck with graceful -form and branching antlers. He sees us not, but the -dog’s quick senses have caught his scent upon the -passing wind. Still, boy, still! Pilot, put her a little -more under the island. Hunter, lend me thy rifle—launch -the canoe. Come, hunter—peace—peace—keep -the dogs on board; paddle for yonder point—now -we shoot upon the pebbly beach—now make her fast -to this dead log. We’ll steal gently through the woods -and come upon him unawares. Softly—press those<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span> -vines away; whist—avoid the rustling of the branches; -here, creep through these bushes—tread lightly on the -fallen leaves—you’ll mire upon that swampy bottom. -Hush—hush—tread softly—that crackling branch! -He lifts his head—he looks uneasily about him—stand -quiet. Now he browses again; get a little nearer—we -are within distance. I’ll try him—click. Back -go the antlers—the cocking of the rifle has alarmed -him—he’s off! Here goes, hit or miss—crack—he -jumps ten feet in the air. I’ve missed him—he bounds -onward—no—yes—by Jove! he’s down—he’s up -again—he plunges forward—he falls again—he rises—falls—he -struggles to his knees—he——falls. Hurrah! -he’s ours—quick—quick—thy <i>couteau de chasse</i>, -we’ll make sure of him. Stop—stop. Poor deer! -and <i>I</i> have murdered thee, for my <i>sport</i> have murdered -thee—have taken from thee the precious boon of life—with -cruelty have broken the silver chord, which -the beggar’s blunt knife can sever, but not the jewelled -fingers of the monarch again rejoin. There—there, -thou liest, true to the Great Master’s picture—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“The big round tears course down thy innocent nose in piteous chase,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And thy smooth leathern sides pant almost to bursting.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Thy life blood flows apace—e’en now thy large soft -eye dims in the sleep of death—and <i>I</i> have slain thee. -Thou had’st nought other enemy than the gaunt coward -wolf, or fanged serpent; him, with light leaping<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> -bounds, thou laugh’st to scorn, as his long howl struck -on thy quick ear; and the sullen rattler, with many -blows of thy tiny polished hoof thou dash’st to pieces, -ere from his deadly coil, his flattened head, with glistening -tongue and protruded fangs, could reach thee. -Oh! I shame me of my miscreant fellowship. E’en -the poisonous serpent, with quick vibrating tail, did -give thee warning—<i>I</i> stole upon thee unawares. -Hunter! take again thy weapon; for thee—’tis thy -vocation—perhaps ’tis well—the game is thine. I -entreat of thee, let not my innocent victim again reproach -my eyesight. So! here is the canoe—we -again embark—we rock against the steamer’s side—and -now again rush onward in our swift career. Islands -glide by us in countless numbers. The frightened -trout scales in quick alarm from the splashing waterwheels, -while echo, mocking their watery clamour, -wakes the old mountains from their sleepy stillness, -who again, like drowsy giants, relapse into repose as -we leave them far behind us.</p> - -<p><i>Ticonderoga</i>, we approach thy shore. Ay—true to -appointment—here are the horses. Mount—on we -go, over hillock and valley, through brake, through -brier, through mud, through water, through swamp, -through mire; we gallop over the broad green peninsula—leap -the entrenchments—thread the lines. Here -is the citadel—descend the moat; the wild dank -weeds and furze o’ertop our heads. Ay—here’s a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span> -chasm—a breach in the ancient walls; spur up—spur -up; now we draw rein within the very centre of the -blackened ruins. How lovely the view, from the soft -undulating promontory—the lake bathing its sides; -Horicon’s mountains o’erlooking it on this—the stalwart -yeomen of the verdant State, free as the winds, -on that! Oh! Ticonderoga, midst these uncultivated -wilds—these silent mountains—various and eventful -hath been thy history.</p> - -<p>Ho! Old Time—how calmly strok’st thou thy long -greybeard, as seated on the broken ruins, thou ponderest -their past! Come! come, old father! ascend this -crumbling battlement—lean on my shoulder—I, <i>as yet</i>, -am straightest—I will hold thy scythe. Now point to -me the drama which past generations have acted upon -this green peninsula.</p> - -<p>What do I see? I see the savage life—the light -canoe floating on the blue lake—painted warriors spearing -the salmon, chasing the deer upon the plain, dragging -the surly bear in triumph,—I see the swift paddle chase—I -hear the laugh of children—the voice of patient -squaws—the distant yell as rounding the point, the returning -braves bemoan the dead left on the war-path, and -as the shades of evening close, the sun in golden radiance -retiring o’er the mountains, I see them congregate -in wigwams in the cove.—The blue smoke rises gently -o’er the tree tops, and all is still—quiet and serenity -obtain—the whip-poor-will, and cricket, amid the -drowsy hum of insect life, keep melancholy cadence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span></p> - -<p>“Stranger! venture not near them—the peace is -treacherous. No civilized challenge shall give thee -warning, but the cruel war-shriek wildly ring o’er the -insensate brain as the light tomahawk trembles in thy -cloven skull.”</p> - -<p>Wild mist rolls onward—I hear sounds of distant -music—the mellow horn—the clashing cymbals break -from its midst. Ah! it rises. A gallant army, in proud -array, with flags and banners—bright glittering arms, -and ponderous artillery. With alacrity they effect -their landing. They fraternise with the red-skinned -warriors. Their military lines run round like magic. -I feel, e’en where we stand, huge walls, grim towers -rise, and bastions springing up around us—the spotless -drapeau blanc, high o’er our heads, floats in the breeze—wild -chansons of love, of war, of la belle France, -mix with mirth and revelry.</p> - -<p>“Stranger, ’tis the quick ‘<i>Qui Vive</i>’ that doth -arrest thy footstep.”</p> - -<p>Ay—now, Old Time, the mystic curtain again rolls -upwards. What do I see?—Red-coated soldiers advancing -in proud battalia through the forest glades, the -sunbeams dancing on their bayonets. I hear the sound -of bugles—the clamorous roll of drums, the groaning -jar and creak of heavy-wheeled artillery. Spread along -the lines, covered with sharp abattis and water moat, -I see the impatient Gaul, with savage ally in ambushment, -await their coming—they advance with desperate<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> -valour,—they ford the ditch, they hew the sharpened -trees with axes. In vain—the balls like hail, from -unseen foes murderously destroy them—their leader -falls—hark! the bugle with melancholy wail sounds -their retreat.</p> - -<p>Again, Old Time, an interval—again red-coated -soldiers! again groaning artillery! Look up!—the -drapeau blanc has vanished—the meteor flag streams -proudly from the flag-staff.</p> - -<p>“Stranger, ’tis the Anglo-Saxon’s rough challenge -that gruffly breaks upon thy ear.”</p> - -<p>Long peace and silence—Old Father, now obtain—the -sentry sleeps upon his post—women and children -play upon the ramparts—but, hark! what is it far in -the distance that I hear! the sound of battle! the fusilade -of musketry—the roar of cannon! I see Bunker’s -Hill from light barricade sweep down her thousands—I -see hurrying forward the hardy husbandman -with hastily caught musket—the robed divine—the -youth—the old man—cheered on by mothers—sisters—tender -wives,—to strike</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“For their altars and their fires,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">God, and their native homes.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>I see new Nation’s symbol—Stars and Stripes—and -watch, now in the midnight darkness through the fortress -moat—how advance that fearless band of men—Lo! -in silence they penetrate the fortress’ centre. -Hark! what voice rouses the astonished officer, as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> -starting from his slumbers, he meets, close at his throat, -the bayonet’s threatening point. “Surrender!” “To -whom?” “The Great Jehovah, and the Continental -Congress!”</p> - -<p>Now floats the spangled banner proudly o’er the -citadel—patriotic men assemble—armies make temporary -resting place—invalid soldiers breathe the -health-restoring air, and age wears on. Ha!—was -that a meteor flashing from Defiance Mountain summit? -And there, another?—Plunge! plunge! Cannon -shot! screaming, yelling, bounding i’ th’ very centre -of the fortress.</p> - -<p>“’Tis the Englishman with his artillery.”</p> - -<p>Quick, quick!—St. Clair, withdraw the army—the -position is no longer tenable. Strike not that flag!—palsied -be the hand that so degrades the flag of Freedom—let -it shake defiance to the last! Quick, the -magazine—the train—Ha, hah! Ætna, Vesuvius -like, the explosion.</p> - -<p>Hallo! Old Time!—Ho! thou of the scythe!—What! -hast gone? Am I!—ay, I am alone! Nought -but the blackened ruins, and the crumbling ramparts, -in silence surrounding me.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="MONTREAL">MONTREAL.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>Now, in steam palace, we shoot in swift career o’er -thy tranquil surface, Lake Champlain—thy rolling -mountains, in wavy outline, accompanying us in our -rapid progress. Vast primeval forests sleep in stillness -along thy borders—their sylvan patriarchs, reigning -for centuries, untouched by woodman’s axe, stretch -proudly their far-reaching branches, ’till ancient Time, -pointing with extended finger the wild spirit of the -winds breathes on them as he passes, and they succumb -with sullen uproar, long with mock semblance retaining -form and length, as if deriding the puny offspring -shooting up around them; bestowing sore fall, -I ween, and tumble on adventurous hunter, as stumbling -through the undergrowth he plunges prostrate -o’er them.</p> - -<p>Forests immense cover the mountains, the gorges, valleys, -reigning in stern solitude and silence, save where -the fierce fire-god, serpent-like, pursues his flaming -journey. There, followed by wreathing smoke columns, -forward he leaps, with fiery tongue licking up acres—while -the waterpools hissing in mist, join in his escort, -and the wild game, with frantic swiftness, strive to escape<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> -the hot destruction of his embraces. With steady, -noiseless progress, the white villages appear and disappear -beside us. Rouse’s skeleton Tower looms -largely in the distance;—now ’tis passed.</p> - -<p>Thy military works, and crimson flag, Isle Aux Noix,—town -of St. Johns, Richelieu, La Prairie,—we -pass ye all; and advancing in soft summer atmosphere, -Chambly, we behold thy mountain ramparts -filling the far distance. St. Lawrence, majestic river, -stretched like sheet of polished steel, as far as eye -can reach, we stand upon thy level shores. Rapid—wide, -rushing expanse of waters, with what glorious -brightness thou look’st upon thy verdant shores, covered -with continuous lines of snow-white cottages, and -listenest to the soft music of the religious bells of the -kind-hearted, cheerful habitans—as, with rude painted -cross upon their door posts, they scare away the fiend, -and joyously intercommune, in honest simple neighbourhood. -La Chine—we speed o’er thy surface, with -race-horse swiftness, and now <i>Montreal</i>,—beautiful—most -beautiful,—couched at the foot of emerald mountain, -liest thou upon the river’s margin, thy spires, -roofs, cupolas, glittering in the sunbeams with silver -radiance, and thy grand cathedral chimes floating onwards -till lost in dreamy distance. We land upon thy -granite quay—measure the extended esplanade—now -climb thy narrow streets and alleys. Almost we -think we tread one of thy antique cities, ancient France,—alleys<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span> -narrow, dark and gloomy courts, grim inhospitable -walls,—in place of airy casement, gratings and -chained iron portals,—military barracks,—nunneries,—prisons,—fantastic -churches, and Notre Dame’s cloud-piercing -towers, in huge architectural pile, looming -high above all. Noisy, chattering habitans, in variegated -waist-belts, and clattering sabots, rotund dark-robed -priests, lank voyageurs—red-coated soldiers, and -haughty officers,—jostle each other on the narrow -trottoir—but, mark! the sullen, down-cast Indian, in -blanket robed, with gaudy feathers and shining ornaments, -his patient squaw, straight as an arrow, her piercing-eyed -papoose clinging to her shoulders, silently -following him, in noiseless moccasins, moves along the -<i>kennel</i>. Verily, poor forest child, it hath been written, -and Moslem-like, thou to thy destiny must bow—the -fire-water and the Christian will it—fold thee closer -in thy blanket robe, and—die. See yon Indian girl, -standing at the corner—with what classic grace the -blue fold drapery thrown o’er her head, descends -her shoulders, as, fawn-like, she stands, avoiding the -rude passer’s stare.</p> - -<p>Hardy ponies, in light calash, dash through the -narrow streets, of passengers’ safety regardless; -or, tugging at great trucks, strive, in renewed exertion, -to vociferous cries and exclamations of the -volatile Canadian. How well these Englishmen sit -their horses. See that gentleman—with what delicate<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> -hand he reins the fiery blood that treads as if -on feathers beneath him—and how picturesque appear, -amid the motley throng, these red-coated soldiers.</p> - -<p>Picturesque! I like them not—they indicate a subjugated -people. Come! here stands one at the Champ -de Mars—how martially he deports himself—his exactly -poised musket, and his brazen ornaments—how -bright! Inscribed upon his gorget are the actions -which have signalized his regiment,—“Badajos”—“Salamanca”—“Vittoria”—“Waterloo.” -We will -address him. Soldier, your regiment was at Salamanca,—“<i>S-i-r</i>.” -By the inscription on your gorget, your -regiment distinguished itself at Salamanca—“scaled -the imminent deadly breach” at “Badajos”—stood the -Cuirassiers wild charge amid the sulphurous smoke at -Waterloo?—“Don’t know, indeed, s-i-r.” And is -this the gallant soldier! Why, for years, under the -menace of thy sergeant, thou hast scoured that gorget -to regulation brightness—for years hast marched under -thy regimental colours emblazoned with those -characters, and still in ignorance, need’st a Champoillion -to decipher them. ’Tis well. Thou art the -machine, indeed, that they require.—Verily, thy daily -wage of sixpence, and thy ration, are full compensation -for thy service.</p> - -<p>Listen! The masses hurrying forward in the -western hemisphere—whether to happiness and -equality,—or furious license and bloody anarchy—with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> -joyous shouts, and cries of freedom, arouse -the echo. Dost hear above hoarse cries of “bread,” -and mob hurrah’s—confused sounds—low muttering -thunder—the rend and clank of chains that o’er the -broad Atlantic roll from old Europe? ’Tis the chariot -wheels of Liberty, as charging onwards she sweeps -away rust-covered chains, and feudal bands, like maze -of cobwebs, from her path. Hear! The Nations cry -for Constitutions—the monarchs hurrying with ghastly -smiles <i>grant</i> their request—the people would <i>take</i> them -else. Therefore prepare thee, for wilt thou or thy -rulers—the time surely approaches. Expand thy mind—cultivate -thy intelligence—study thy God—so that -when the hour arrives, in the first wild bounds of freedom, -as the desert steed thou dash not thyself to pieces; -nor, like the frantic Gaul, bursting from imprisonment -of ages, gore thyself with thine own broken fetters, -rushing on to deeds of blood and frenzy that cause humanity -to shudder. Ponder it, soldier! fare thee well.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_NUN">THE NUN.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>Now as we pass, look up! How minute appears the -colossal statue of Our Lady in its niche on the vast -front of the cathedral. And the nunneries—self-constituted -prisons for those whom God hath born to freedom—how -like birds of evil omen they do congregate. -Here is that of the Grey Order. Ring at the gateway—we -will enter. Here we pass the court-yard; how -still, how gloomy, and how prison-like! This is their -hospital. Piteous collection! The blind, the halt, the -maimed, the hideously deformed—consumption—palsy—the -wrecks of fevers! See! with what continued -torture that wretched being writhes in her fixed position. -Oh! this is the small spark of good amid the -black brands of evil. These orphan children are -kindly cared for, but where the child-like joy and -mirthful freedom! With what stealthy step the -officials move about their duties along the silent corridors! -and,—aye! here is the chapel, with its gilded -altars, its ornaments, its embroideries, its bleeding -hearts, its sacred symbols. See with what gentleness -the “<i>Lady</i>” performs the servile duties of the sanctuary! -with what humility she bends before the altar. -Oh! how beautiful that cheek of tint of Indian shell;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> -those dark romantic eyes, with their long pensile lashes; -that nose of Grecian outline; the small vermilion -mouth; the throat and neck of snow, and the glossy -raven tresses escaping in rich luxuriance from the -plaited coif as they fall upon her sloping shoulders. -Mournful seems her devotion—now rising she stands -before the Mater Dolorosa; now wistfully gazes down -the dark long corridor, in sorrowful meditation. Hush! -be silent. I will steal gently near her. Lady! Turn -not—’tis thy kind spirit whispers—art thou content? -Does thy young active soul find employ congenial in -these gloomy mysteries? Does thy springing, youthful -heart, sympathize in these cold formalities—this -company of grim-visaged saints and bearded martyrs -with joy enchain thee? Does the passionate imagination -and deep feeling flashing in those dark eyes—the -already hectic kindling of that cheek, look with pleasure -to long years—a life of cold monotonous routine—of -nightly vigils—fastings—of painful mortifications? -Lady! listen. They chain thy soul. Break thou -away. Quick in thy youth, fly from them, fly. One -moment. Speak not. See’st thou yon cottage peering -from its green shades and gravelled walks—its -parterres of the myrtle and the lily, its diamond lattice -enwreathed and almost hidden in the embrace of sweet-smelling -honeysuckles and clustering roses—and its -interior with its simple yet delicate refinements? -See’st thou in snowy dishabille the lovely woman?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> -with what heart-felt glee the frolicking, half-naked -child, with chubby arms, almost suffocates in its -little embrace her neck, its golden ringlets mingling -like streams of light ’mid her dark tresses,—with -what ecstasy she enfolds him in her embraces, -with maternal lips pressing in exquisite delight the -plump alabaster shoulders? Lady, such scenes, not -gloomy walls, invite thee—nay ’tis not the voice of the -Tempter—’tis not, as they will tell thee, the poisonous -breath of the many-coloured serpent stealing o’er thy -senses. Let bearded men, wrecked on their own -fierce lawless passions, seek these dark cells, -these painful vigils, these unmeaning mortifications. -They are not for thee. The world awaits thy -coming. The pawing steed, throwing the white -froth flakes o’er his broad chest, impatiently awaits -thee. Fly, dear lady, fly—the joyous, carrolling -birds, the dew-spangled meadows, cry, Come. -The green, green trees—the bubbling water-falls—the -soft summer breezes—the rosy tinted East—the -gorgeous drapery of the West—cry to thee, -Come. The voice of thy lover, frantic at thy self-sacrifice—the -voice of him who in the fragrant -orange bower encircled thy slender waist, whilst, -with heightened colour and down-cast eyes, thou listen’d -to his rapid vows—the voice of him, who with -thy glossy raven tresses floating on his shoulder, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> -thy warm, sweet breath, mingling with his, lavished -soul, existence, all, on thee,—in agony cries, Dearest, -dearest, come. Nay, nay, ’tis but for <i>thy</i> happiness,—I -leave thee—exclaim not—I am gone.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CATARACTS_OF_NIAGARA">CATARACTS OF NIAGARA.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>Now—on, on—over the Chute, and down the Rapid—leaping -the Saults—through the rivers, over the -islands—we glide—we glide—we rush—we fly. Ho! -Ariel, beautiful spirit, riding on thy rainbow—shoot -not thy silver arrows at us as we pass. Tricksy spirit—fare -thee well—now far in the distance, fare—thee—well! -Ha! ha!—Old frolic Puck—sweating, panting, -holding thy lubbard sides—we race—we race—we -pass thee too—in vain thou strugglest to o’ertake us. -Farewell—farewell. Go pinch the housemaids—tickle -with straws the snoring herdsmen—tumble -about the dusty mows—sprinkle sweet hay before the -ruminating cattle—clutch by the tail the cunning fox, -as stealthily he crawls within the hen-roost—and anon -rub thy hands in glee o’er the embers on the capacious -kitchen hearth, and on all-fours cut antics with -the glowering cat, as with bowed back and shining -eyes she watches thee i’ th’ corner—peer into the -kettles and into the jars—see whether the barm rises—whether -the yeast doth work; till with clash—clatter—the -metal lid slips from thy fingers on the -hearth-stone, and villain-like, thou shoot’st up the -chimney, with “Ho! ho! ho!” laughing at the sleepy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span> -yeoman, as half covered, with oaken cudgel grasped, -shivering, he peers through the door-crack the cause -o’ th’ uproar. Farewell, farewell, mirthful goblin—farewell, -farewell. Ontario, we waft across thy surface. -Queenstown, thy sanguinary heights, crowned -with brave Briton’s monument, we pass, and now the -rising mist-wreaths warn us of thy approach, Niagara. -Huzza! huzza! now for a bath under the roaring -Cataract. In what wild chaos of waters the clam’rous -rapids, as if from the horizon, rush down upon us—jumping, -leaping, boiling, in fierce confusion; and -this frail bridge, how it groans and shakes in the torrent’s -sweep! A slip from Mahomet’s sword edge -o’er the awful Hades, would not consign us to more -inevitable destruction, than would a treacherous plank -or rotten beam from this shaking platform. We tread -the deep green woods of Goat Island, their mossy trunks -covered with love-marks of Orlandos and Rosalinds; -and, amid the roar, descend the great Ferry stair-case—stop -a moment at this landing—step out. How the -solid earth shakes—jars and vibrates! How the wild -winds rush by us, as the huge fluid arch stretches -over with continuous plunge—and see that group of -wild-flowers—scarlet, green, and purple—smiling in -beauty beyond the reach of human hand, glistening in -moisture midst the very spray in the rock cleft. But—haste—haste! -Here is the boatman. Leap in—leap -in! Now how, in our little cockle-shell bark, we<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> -whirl and sport in the eddies, o’er the fathomless depths -below, like wing-borne insects playing over the abyss.</p> - -<p>We land—ascend the heights—we pass the sentry. -At the tiring-house. We robe ourselves for -the enterprise—tarpaulin coats—hats bound with old -rope—trowsers of tow cloth—shoes of cowhide—ha! -ha! But quick, descend the long spiral stair-case. -Now, Guide—we follow. Beware you fall not on -these sharp, slippery rocks. We approach. The -Table Rock hangs over us. In grandeur the solid -fluid mass falls precipitate. Prepare. Turn as you -enter—hold down your head—repress your breath: -are you ready? Rush! We are beneath the yawning -chasm—soaked in an instant. Like furious rainstorm, -and wind, and tempest all combined, this wild, -frightful roar. What? Scream louder, louder. Hold -firm by the guide—a slip from this narrow ledge—and—whew—splash—dead -in our faces—almost suffocated. -Turn to the dripping rock wall, and catch -your breath till the wind rush again lifts the watery -curtain. Slimy eels glide by—darkness deep above—dim -light strives to reach us through the cataract -sheets. We are at the extreme verge. Guide—guide—ha?—what -indicates that motion of thy lips—closer—close -in my ear. “Termination rock.” Turn—turn—splash—swash—drenched—suffocated—return, -return. We see again the light. Rush! We -stand once more in the clear open sunlight.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span> -Whew!—puff—dripping—dripping—a shower-bath worthy of -old Neptune. How delightfully our nerves spring -under its exhilarating influence. Take care—again -these slippery stones. Beware! beware! Here we -ascend again the stair-case. In the attiring-room. -Towels—brushes—Christians once more.</p> - -<p>Come—come! Now to the Table Rock. See with -what treacherous glitter the wide Niagara stretches in -perfect smoothness far towards Chippewa, till, descending -upon us, it shoots the rapids o’er their rocky beds -like things of life, and with wild rush around the -island, sweeps resistless o’er the awful cataracts, a -roaring hurricane of waters. Give me your hand—lean -forward—look into the abyss—careful. Evil -spirits take us at advantage at such times, and whisper -us to leap forward. How lashed in milky whiteness -the huge gulf boils and foams as the waters plunge -fractured, disjointed, tumbling in masses—and the -wild birds, how fearlessly they skim amid the white -mist rising from its surface. How the earth shudders -and trembles around us. You are already dizzy. -Come back from the edge. How awful—how terribly -sublime! How tame—how useless, helpless description! -Would that I, with voice of inspiration, could -command language adequate to pourtray the grandeur -of the scene under stern Winter’s reign! Transcendantly -beautiful once I saw it! A thaw and rain, followed -by sudden chill and cold, had clothed all the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> -forest—every hedge and shrub, with transparent coat -of ice. Gnarled oaks, from massive trunk to their -extremest twigs, became huge crystal chandeliers. -The ever-green pines and hemlocks, with long lancing -branches,—great emeralds; lithe willows, sweeping, -glassy cascades; the wild vines, stiff in silvery trellices -between them; the undergrowth, with scarlet, blue and -purple berries, candied fruits. The pools of frozen -water at their feet, dark sheets of adamant; and ever -and anon, as the north wind passed o’er them, the -forest was Golconda, Araby—one Ind of radiant gems, -quivering with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, in glittering -splendour; pearls, emeralds, hyacinths, chrysolites, -falling in showers, as fractured from their crackling -branches, they strewed the snowy bed stretched -smooth around them. That wide, smooth river, far -above the Rapids, ice-chained, a solid snow-white bed, -gleaming in the midday sun. Yon tower, misshapen -giant phantom, ice god, in frozen shroud and winding-sheet, -firmly fixed ’mid the swift running waters:—huge -stalactite icicles, Winter’s hoary beard, hanging -in fantastic curtains from each rock ledge—pinnacle—projection; -while on the black rapids, the vast ice-fields -breaking in masses, piled in wild confusion, -grinding and swaying on their treacherous holds, till -gathering momentum, with slide and plunge—submerged, -they swept onward ’mid the wild roar of the -cataracts, which, with stern, resistless power, held<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span> -their terrific course. Those huge sheets, those watery -arches, those green beryl masses, plunging in resistless -fury, unabated vastness, with desperate leaps into -the foaming abyss below, the spray falling in silver -showers, pierced by the sun’s rays dancing around -them in countless rainbows; while the ice avalanches, -breaking from their grasps on the surrounding rocks -and precipices, with booming plunge and uproar, fell -crashing,—buried in the dark whirlpools, boiling in -the fathomless depths below. The dark river, in torrents -of copperas-hue, whirling in eddies, rushing o’er -its deep rocky bed—in savage contrast with the snow-covered -precipices that chained it to its course. Deep, -resistless sweep of waters! black as despair—Sadoc -here were to thee the waters of Oblivion—here that -Lethe, which, till other worlds received thee, should -blot existence from keenest memory.</p> - -<p>The voice of the Unseen addressed the afflicted -Patriarch from the whirlwind’s midst—us does it warn -from this chained whirlwind of the waters. Sublime, -terrible, indescribable, as is this scene by human -tongue, how tamely all its grandeur sinks beneath the -catastrophe, which the being of future ages shall survey,—or -would, if with eagle’s wings he could soar -high in the clouds above it,—when the narrow rock-belt -which Niagara for by-gone centuries has been slowly -wearing, severed, the light tract alluvial crumbling—the -whole chain of inland oceans—Huron, Erie, Michigan,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span> -with awful wildness and destruction, sweep in second -deluge o’er this outlet—the adamantine rocks sinking -like snow-wreaths from their beds—all principalities, -kingdoms, states—whate’er they shall be—between -the Atlantic and the Alleghanies, the Labrador and -Mexico—swept from existence, and in their place a -heaving surge—wild waste of waters. Fool! revolve -this scene terrific in thy heart—ponder it well—then, -if thou canst, say, indeed, there is no God! Thy life, -at best a flickering taper, shall soon meet extinguishment. -Then shall there be an eternity to convince -thee.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="MOUNT_HOLYOKE">MOUNT HOLYOKE.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>Here we are in the middle of the month of August. -The “world” have long since fled the hot walls and -blazing pavements of old Gotham, and even the very -school-boys are let loose from their pale-faced pedagogues, -to frolic like young colts in the country. -Come, let us not alone remain in the sweltering city. -Throw a few things in your carpet-bag—ay, that is -sufficient. Make me the guide. We will leave Saratoga -and Rockaway to their flirtations—another field -is before us. Now, Eastward ho! shall lie our course. -Distance and time are left behind us—already we -are ensconced at the Mansion House in this most -lovely of villages, “Northampton the beautiful.”</p> - -<p>Well does it deserve the name. Come one moment -to the corner of this piazza. Look down the long -avenues. See the symmetrical verdant arches, formed -by the boughs of the antique elms, bending toward -each other in loving fraternity; and see the snow-white -houses at their feet, their court-yards smiling -with flowers; and see the still more smiling faces that -glance behind their transparent windows. That will -do—you have stared long enough at the demure beauty -behind the green blinds. Look this way, and witness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span> -the refined taste exhibited in the graceful cottages, as -they stand in relief against the dark back-ground of -the forest,—the Grecian column, the Gothic arch, the -Italian verandah, cottage and temple, all spread around -you like the city of your dreams. Truly it seems, as -it mostly is, the abode of retired gentlemen—a very -Decameron sort of a place in this working-day world -of ours. But, allons! Are we not Americans? <i>Why</i> -should we rest? To breakfast—behold a regular -Yankee feast. Snow-white bread, and golden butter,—chickens -that one short hour since dreamed of bins -of corn and acres of oats on their roosts in the lofty -barn,—steaks, pies, tea, preserves, the well-browned -cakes, and last, not least, the sparkling amber cider. -Blessings on the heart of the nice looking damsel at -the coffee urn, with her red cheeks and neat check -apron. But, egad! my dear friend—prudence! hold -up—we have to ascend the mountain, and you will not -find the feast that you are stowing away with such -Dalgetty industry, likely to improve your wind. That -last hot roll lengthens our ascent just one quarter of an -hour. There! the horses are neighing, and impatiently -champing the bit at the door. Are you ready? -Come then. Look out, lest that fiery devil throw you -on the bosom of our common mother, earth!—your -bones would find her a step-dame—those flaming nostrils -are sworn enemies to your long spur gaffs. But -here we go! How balmy and delightful the cool air<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span> -of the morning!—the verdant grass rises gracefully—the -wild flower shakes its tiny bells, and drinks the -dewy diamond glittering on its lips, as it waves gently -o’er them. The rich yellow sun mocks the trees, as -it rolls out their broad shadows on the velvet turf beneath—while -from knoll and waving mullen stalk, the -meadow-lark, with outstretched neck and piercing -eye, utters his sweet notes in almost delirious rapture. -We clear the broad meadows. Our very horses, with -ears erect, gather speed with every bound, and seem -ready to cry ha! ha! We are the fabled centaurs of -old.</p> - -<p>See! see!—the heavy morning mist, rising in huge -volumes, reluctantly bares the forest on the mountain -side,—it curls and breaks in vast masses,—it slowly -rolls off to the eastward. Aye! there he stands—there -stands old <i>Holyoke</i>, with his cragged coronal of rocks, -a gigantic Titan, bidding defiance to time and tempest. -Gallop—gallop! we are within two hundred feet of the -summit. This precipice, its dark sides frowning and -grim, the velvet moss, and little clustres of scarlet and -yellow flowers peeping from its crevices, where the -ripling brooklet scatters its mimic showers over them, -wreathed fantastically with vines and gnarled branches -from its clefts,—we must climb on foot. Rest a moment. -How perfectly still the dense forest extends -around us. Nought breaks the silence, save the -querulous cry of the cat-bird, as it hops from branch<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> -to branch,—the mimic bark of the squirrel, or the distant -hollow tap of the woodpecker. Now, a little -more climbing—take care of those loose stones—a few -steps additional ascent—give me your hand—spring!—here -we are on the rocky platform of its summit. Is -not the scene magnificent? We stand in the centre of -an amphitheatre two hundred miles in diameter. See! -at the base of the mountain curls, like a huge serpent, -the Connecticut, its sinuosities cutting the smooth -plains with all sorts of grotesque figures,—now making -a circuit around a peninsula of miles, across whose -neck a child might throw a stone,—here stretching -straight as an arrow for a like distance,—and there -again returning like a hare upon its course. See the -verdant valleys extending around us, rich with the -labour of good old New England’s sons, and far in the -distance—the blue smoky distance—rising in majesty, -God’s land-marks, the mountains. See the beautiful -plains, the prairies beneath us, one great carpet of -cultivation,—the fields of grain, the yellow wheat, the -verdant maize, the flocks, the herds, the meadow, the -woodland, forming beautiful and defined figures in its -texture, while the villages in glistening whiteness, are -scattered, like patches of snow, in every part of the -landscape; and hark! in that indistinct and mellow -music we hear the bell slowly tolling from yonder -slender spire. Oh! for a Ruysdael, or a Rubens, to -do justice to the picture.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span></p> - -<p>Surely God did not intend that we should sweat and -pant in cities when he places such scenes before us. -How like the fierce giants of old the lofty mountains -encircle it, as a land of enchantment. See! see! the -clouds, as they scud along in the heavens, how they -throw their broad shadows, chasing each other on the -plains below. Imagine them squadrons, charging in -desperate and bloody battle. But no—widows and -orphans’ tears follow not <i>their</i> encounters—rather the -smiles of the honest, hard-handed yeoman, as he foresees -his wains groaning with the anticipated harvests—his -swelling stacks—his crowded granaries. Here, -for the present, let us recline on the broad and moss-covered -rocks, while with the untutored Indian, its -rightful owner, in silent admiration, we worship the -Great Spirit, whose finger moves not, save in beauty, -in harmony and majesty.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="WHITE_MOUNTAINS">WHITE MOUNTAINS.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>“Knock! knock! knock!” W-e-l-l. “Thump! -thump! thump!” Who’s there? What do you want? -“Passengers for the White Mountains, Sir, time to get -up,—stage ready.” Is it possible? three o’clock already? -W-e-l-l, I’ll get up. Call the gentleman -in the next room. Well, my friend, how are you, after -your trip of yesterday to Mount Holyoke?—a little -stiff in the knees and ancles, eh!—but come, the stage -is at the door. Waiter, hold the light. How forlorn -look the heavy muddy vehicle, and half-waked horses -by the dim light of the stage lamps. That’s right, my -good fellow; throw those carpet-bags in the inside. -Shut the door. All ready. Driver, go ahead! -“Aye, aye, sir.” Hey!—Tchk! tchk!—Crack! -crack! crack! off we go. The steady clatter of the -horses’ hoofs, the jingling of the harness, the occasional -roll, as we pass over the boards of some bridge, and -the intejectional whistle of the driver as he encourages -them, are the only things that break the silence for the -next hour. The morning light begins to dawn. Whom -have we here? Only two fellow travellers. An honest, -clean-looking countryman, snugly fixed in one -corner, with his night-cap pulled over his eyes, and his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> -mouth wide open, as if admiring the melody that his nose -in bugle strain is enacting just above it; and opposite to -him a gross fat man, of rubicund visage, his eyes ensconced -in goggles. See! he nods—and nods—and -nods, and now his head bobs forward into his neighbour’s -lap. How foolishly he looks, as he awakes to -consciousness. It is broad day-light. Let us get up -with the driver on the outside, and enjoy our cigars and -the scenery together.</p> - -<p>Here we go, through the Connecticut River Valley, -famous for its scenery and its legends—the region of -bright eyes and strong arms—the land of quiltings and -huskings—of house-raisings and militia trainings, and -the home of savory roast pigs and stuffed turkeys, of -fat geese, of apple sauce, and pumpkin pies; the Ultima -Thule to the Yankee’s imagination. Now we are at -Deerfield. While they are about our breakfast, we will -run across the road, and see the old Williams Mansion. -A hundred years since, it was surrounded by Indians, -and its occupant, the clergyman, with his family, -carried off captives to Canada. Here is the very hole -cut in the front door by their tomahawks, and here the -hacks of the hatchets. Through this hole they ran -their rifles, and fired into the house, killing a man confined -to his bed by sickness, and here is the ball lodging -to this day in the side of the wall—and this occurred -one hundred years ago! Say you, that the people that -treasure up these legends, and retain these memorials<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span> -untouched, have no poetry in their souls? But there -goes the stageman’s horn! Our breakfast finished, -we resume our places at the side of the good-natured -driver, and on we roll. We pass Brattleboro’, snugly -ensconced in its mountain eyrie, and Hanover, with its -broad parade, its flourishing colleges, and its inhabitants -that never die,—save from old age.</p> - -<p>With teams of six and eight horses, we speed over -hill, over dale, over mountain, over valley, ascending -and descending the mountains in full run; our gallant -horses almost with human instinct, guiding themselves. -Snorting leaders, swerve not aside in your -career—linch-pins, do your duty—traces and breeching, -hold on toughly, or “happy men be our dole.” -Hah! Wild Amonoosac, we greet thy indeed wild -roar.—How it sweeps the fallen timber in its boiling -eddies! The huge logs slide dancing onwards with -the velocity of the canoes of the Indian; or caught -by envious projection, or uplifting rock, form dams and -cascades, till the increasing and cumbrous masses, -gathering momentum, plunge forward, sweeping all before -them,—and—but whist! Step into the shade of -this tree—look into the dark pool beneath those gnarled -roots—how beautifully the gold and purple colours -glitter—how motionlessly still is the head—how slight -and tremulous the movement of that fin—the wavy -motion of the tail. A two pounder, as I am a Christian! -Whist! whist! See that dragon-fly, gently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -sailing o’er the surface—he rests a moment on it. -Watch! the head slowly turns—the fins move decidedly—ay—now—one -rapid whirl of the tail—an -electric leap to the surface—Poor fly, thy history is -written; and well for thee, thou greedy trout, that no -barbed hook suspends thee in mid air—struggling -in beauty, though in death, the prize of exulting -angler. And thou, too, art there, savage <i>Mount Franconia</i>, -with thy fantastic and human outline! Old -Man of the Mountain!—with what grim stoicism thou -lookest down upon the busy miners, as with picks and -powder-blast they rive the sullen mineral from thy vitals. -Ay! watch thou by the lurid glare the sweating, -half-naked forgemen, as they feed with thy forests -the roaring furnaces. Watch the molten ore, slowly -running in glittering streams, with fiery showers of -scintillations into the dark earth-troughs below; while -with ceaseless din, the ponderous trip-hammers, and -clanking machinery, break the till now Sabbath stillness -of thy dwelling place. But fare thee well, thou -imperturbable old man; fare thee well, for now, we -enter the dense continuous forest, through which the -busy hand of man has with unwearied industry cut the -avenue. How deliciously the aroma of the gigantic -pines, mingles with the pure elastic air of the mountains. -See the thick undergrowth; the dogwood with -its snowy blossoms—the scarlet sumac—the waving -green briar, profuse with delicate roses,—the crimson<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span> -raspberry, loaded with its fruit—the yellow sensitive -plant—the dancing blue-bell; and, rising through the -entangled mass of verdure and beauty, see the luxuriant -wild grape, and clinging ivy, joyously climbing the -patriarchs of the forest, encircling their trunks, and -hanging their branches in graceful festoons and umbrageous -bowers.—No human foot, save with the aid of -pioneer, can penetrate its matted wildness—nought -save those huge patriarchs rising above it as they grow -old and die, and fall with crashing uproar, as into -flowery sepulchre, intrude upon its solitude. Then, -indeed, in heavy booming plunge and rush, they seem -to wildly sing, like their painted children, their death -song. But hark!—whence that wild and dissonant -shriek, that rings upon the ear? Ah—yonder, erect -and motionless, he sits upon the towering oak with -haughty eye and talons of iron, screaming his call -of warning to his partner, slowly circling in graceful -curves high, high in the blue ether above him. -Ay! proud bird, our nation’s emblem, would that -thy wild scream could warn from us, the accursed -spirit of Mammon, which, spreading like an incubus, -blights and destroys with its mildew the virtues and -energies of her sons.</p> - -<p>But see, where, as the dense forest stretches onward, -the casual spark dropped by the hand of the woodman, -spreading into flame, and gathering in mighty volumes -of fire, has swept onwards in its roaring, crackling, destroying<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span> -progress, leaving nought behind it, save these -grim and blackened skeletons, and dead plains of ashes. -See what darkness and desolation, and apparent annihilation, -extend around you—but yet, silently and quietly, -ere long, shall the germ of life which can never -die, rise from these ashes, and verdure and beauty -reign again, as was their wont. Even so the solitary -mourner, when death strikes down at his side his dearest -ones, stands helplessly encircled by solitude and -desolation; but soon all-pervading benevolence causes -the green germ of the soul to rise from the ashes, and -his heart again expands with tenderness and sympathy.</p> - -<p>The scene of desolation is passed! and now, lest the -Lord of fire should reign uncontrolled, lo! where the -spirit of the whirlwind has swept in his wild tornado. -Lo! far as your vision can command the circle—where, -rushing from the mountain gorges his chariots have -whirled along in their fierce career of destruction. In -mid height, the lofty trees are snapped like pipe-stems, -and prone like the field of grain laid by the -hand of the reaper, huge trunks with the moss of -centuries,—not here and there one solitary,—but for -miles, the whole vast forest—prostrate, never again to -rise.</p> - -<p>But speed! speed! the mountain passes are before -us! See—see their huge walls tower in chaotic wildness -above us. Rocks on rocks—ledge on ledge—cliff<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span> -on cliff—plunged upon each other in frantic disorder. -See—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“See the giant snouted crags, ho! ho!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">How they snort, how they blow.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>See the huge rock ramparts shooting their wild -peaks and jagged pinnacles upwards, piercing the very -sky above us! their frowning and gashed sides trickling -and discoloured with the corroding minerals in -their bowels; the stunted pines and evergreens clinging -like dwarf shrubs in their crevices. Take heed! -beware you fall not. See the huge slides—they have -swept whole torrents of rocks, of earth, in promiscuous -destruction, from their summits, upon the valley below—the -rivers filled, and turned from their courses, in -their path,—the very forest itself—the loftiest trees -torn up, their branches, their trunks, their upturned -roots ground and intermixed with rock and earth, and -splintered timber, swept on in wild, inextricable confusion—and -here! where starting from their slumbers, -the devoted family rushed naked and horror-stricken to -meet it in mid career. Ay! hold on by the sides of the -steep precipice—cling to the ledge as the wild wind -rushes by in furious gust—a slip were your passport to -eternity. Look down! How awful the precipice, thousands -of feet below you—how the blood curdles and rushes -back upon the heart, as you imagine the fatal plunge. -Well might the Puritans of old, deem these ghastly deserts -the abode and haunts of the evil one.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span></p> - -<p>But, on—on—how toilsome the ascent.—That was a -fearful blast; hold tightly the wild roots in thy grasp as it -passes. Long since have we passed the region of vegetation: -the dry and arid moss clinging to rock and stone, -is alone around us. Ay! drink of that spring—but -beware its icy coldness—nor winter, nor summer, alters -its temperature. Behold, in the clefts and gorges below, -the never-melting snow-wreaths. The flaming -suns of summer pass over, and leave them undiminished. -Courage! we climb, we climb. The witches of -the Brocken ne’er had such wild chaos for their orgies. -Courage, my friend! We ascend—we ascend—we -reach the top—now panting—breathless—exhausted, -we throw ourselves upon the extreme summit.</p> - -<p>Gather your faculties—press hard your throbbing -heart. Catch a view of the scene of grandeur around you, -before the wild clouds, like dense volumes of steam, -enclose us in their embrace, shutting it from our vision;—mountains—mountains—rolling -off as far as eye can -reach in untiring vastness—a huge sea of mountains held -motionless in mid career. How sublime! how grand! -what awful solitude! what chilling, stern, inexorable -silence! It seems as if an expectant world were awaiting -in palpitating stillness the visible advent of the -Almighty—mountain and valley in expectant awe. -Oh! man—strutting in thy little sphere, thinkest thou -that adoration is confined alone to thy cushioned seats—thy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span> -aisles of marble; that for devotion, the Almighty -looks to nought but thee? Why, look thou there!—beneath—around—millions—millions—millions -of acres -teeming with life, yet hushed in silence to thy ear—each -grain the integer and composite of a world—the -minutest portion, a study—a wonder in itself—lie before -thee in awful adoration of their Almighty Founder. -Well did the Seers of old go into the mountains -to worship. Oh! my brother-man—thou that dost toil, -and groan, and labour, in continual conflict with what -appears to thee unrelenting fate—thou to whom the -brow-sweat appears to bring nought but the bitter -bread, and contumely, and shame;—thou on whom -the Sysiphean rock of misfortune seems remorselessly -to recoil—ascend thou hither. Here, on this mountain-peak, -nor King, nor Emperor are thy superior. -Here, thou <i>art</i> a man. Stand thou here; and while -with thy faculties thou canst command, in instant comprehension, -the scene sublime before thee, elevate -thee in thy self-respect, and calmly, bravely throw thyself -into the all-sheltering arms of Him, who watches -with like benevolence and protection, the young bird -in its grassy nest, and the majestic spheres, chiming -eternal music in their circling courses!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BASS_FISHING_OFF_NEWPORT">BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>Here we are at Newport—what a little gem of an -island—rising like emerald on sapphire, from the surrounding -ocean. Neither at Potter’s nor at Whitfield’s, -will we take our abode. We will walk up to -the Mall. Ay, here, with its green blinds and scrupulously -clean piazza, is old Mrs. E——’s, and they -are at tea already. Come, take your seat at table.</p> - -<p>With what serene dignity and kindness the old -lady, in her nice plaited cap, her spotless kerchief, -and russet poplin dress, her pin ball, with its silver -chain, hanging at her waist—presides at the board—crowded -with every imaginable homely delicacy—from -the preserved peach and crullers made by herself, -to the green candied limes brought home by her -grandson from his last West India voyage. See the -antique furniture, with its elaborate carving, the mahogany-framed -looking-glasses; and, in the corner, on -the round stand, the large Bible, carefully covered with -baize, surmounted with the silver spectacles. No -place this for swearing, duel-fighting, be-whiskered -heroes; but just the thing for quiet, sober folk, like -you and me. What sayest thou, Scipio, thou ebon -angel,—that the ebb sets at five i’ the morning,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span> -and that old Davy Swan, the fisherman, will be ready -for us at the Long Wharf at that hour? Well, get -yourself ready and go along with us. Call us in season. -Ay, that will do—the roll of those eyes—the -display of that ivory, to say nothing of the scratch of -that head, and the sudden displacement of that leg, -sufficiently evince thy delight.</p> - -<p>So, so,—here we are, punctual to the hour. Ay, -yonder he is in his broad strong fishing-boat; yonder -is old Davy Swan, as he was twenty years ago; the -same tall, gaunt figure, the same stoop in the shoulders, -bronzed visage, and twinkling grey eyes; the -same wrinkles at the side of his mouth, though deeper; -the same long, lank hair, but now the sable silvered; -the same—the same that he was in the days of my -boyhood. He sees us. Now he stretches up to the -wharf. Jump in—jump in. Be careful, thou son of -Ethiopia, or thy basket will be overboard—sad disappointment -to our sea-whet appetites some few brief -hours hence. All in. We slide gently from the -wharf. The light air in the inner harbour here barely -gives us headway. Look down into the deep, still -water—clear as crystal; see the long sea-weed wave -below; see the lithe eels, coursing and whipping -their paths through its entangled beds; and see our -boat, with its green and yellow sides—its long flaunting -pennant—its symmetrical white sails, suspended, -as if in mid-air, on its transparent surface.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span></p> - -<p>How still and tranquil lies the quiet town, as the -sun gilds its white steeples; and how comfortable -look the old family mansions rising from the green -trees. How beautifully the yellow sun casts his shadows -on the undulating surface of the island, green -and verdant—the flocks of sheep, and browsing cattle, -grouped here and there upon its smooth pastures. -And see, how yonder alike he gilds the land of the -brave, the chivalrous, the unfortunate Miantonimoh. -We float past Fort Wolcott. Its grass-grown ramparts, -surmounted with dark ordnance, and its fields -cheerful with white-washed cottages and magazines.</p> - -<p>Ay! now it breezes a little—now we gather headway—and -now we pass the cutter. See her long, -taper, raking masts, her taut stays and shrouds; and -hear, as the stripes and stars are run up to her gaff, the -short roll of the drum, the “beat to quarters.” Hah! -Davy,—old fellow, dost remember that note last war? -How many times, at midnight, we’ve sprang from -our beds as that short, quick “rub-a-dub” warned -us of the approach of the blockading frigates, as -they neared the town. But, no, no,—forgive me, old -tar,—I recollect, indeed, thou then wast captain of thy -gun, on board the dashing <i>Essex</i>. Ay! well now do I -remember, brave old sailor, thy conduct in her last desperate -battle. Eighteen men hadst thou killed at thy -single gun. I think I see thee now, as grimed with -powder, spattered with blood, thou didst advance,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span> -through fire and smoke, and approach thy saturnine -commander on the quarter-deck. I hear thy brief, -business-like request, “A fresh crew for Number -Three, Second Division. All my men are killed!” -And the short, stern response, “Where is your officer?” -“<i>Dead</i>,—swept overboard by cannon shot.” -And well can I see the momentary play of anguish -round his mouth, as, resuming his hurried walk, he -gloomily replies, “I have no more men—you must -fight your gun yourself!” Ay—and as thy proud -ship a helpless target lay, for twice superior force, I -hear poor Ripley, thy brave comrade, severed almost -in twain by cannon shot, crying, with short farewell—“Messmates, -I am no longer of use to myself or country,” -as he throws himself, his life-blood gushing, overboard.</p> - -<p>But now the wind freshens—the smooth surface -darkens—the sails belly out in tension, and the white -ripples gather under our bows. We round the point: -Fort Adams, we pass thy massive walls, thy grim -“forty-two’s” glaring like wild beasts, chained, ready -to leap upon us from their casements. Ay—now -we run outside—now it freshens—now it breezes—she -begins to dance like a feather. There it comes -stronger! see the white caps! There she goes—scuppers -under—swash—swash—swash—we jump -from wave to wave, as we run parallel with the shore, -our pennant streaming proudly behind us. Here it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span> -comes, strong and steady—there she takes it—gunwale -under—luff, old fellow! luff up, Davy! or you’ll -give us all wet jackets. Ay! that will do—she’s in the -wind’s eye. How the waves tumble in upon the land—see -the Spouting Rock—see the column of white -foam thrown up, as repulsed, the waves roll out again -from the rocky cavern. We near the Dumplings—and, -round to! round to! here are the lobster-pots—haul -in—tumble them in the bottom of the boat—ay—there’s -bait enough. Now we lay our course across -to Beaver Light—we slide, we dash along—springing -from wave to wave—dash—dash—no barnacles on -her bottom at this rate, Davy. Ay, here we are—a -quick run—a good quick run. Anchor her just outside -the surf—ay, that will do—give her a good swing—let -her ride free—she rolls like a barrel on these -long waves. Look to your footing, boys—steady—steady. -Now, then, for it. Davy, you and Scip will -have as much as you can do to bait for us—all -ready. Here goes then—a good long throw—that’s it—my -sinker is just inside the surf. What!—already! -I’ve got him—pull in, pull in—see, my line vibrates -like a fiddle-string!—pull away—here he is—<i>Tautaug</i>—three-pounder. -Lie you there—ay, slap away, -beauty, you have done for ever with your native element. -There, again—off with him. Again—again—again. -This is fun to us, but death to you, ye disciples -of St. Anthony! Give me a good large bait this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span> -time, Scipio—that will do—now, whis-whis-whis-te—that’s -a clean, long throw. By Jupiter! you have -got a bite with a vengeance. Careful—give him more -line—let it run—play him—ease—ease the line around -the thole-pin; he’ll take all the skin of your fingers -else. Pull away gently—there he runs. Careful, or -you lose him—play him a little—he begins to tire—steady, -steady—draw away—now he shoots wildly this -way—look out! there he goes under the boat; here he is -again. Steady—quick, Davy, the net;—I’ve got it under -him—now then, in with him. Bass! twenty -pounds, by all the steel-yards in the old Brick Market! -Ay, there they have got hold of me; a pull like a young -shark; let it run—the whole line is out—quick, quick—take -a turn round the thole-pin—snap! There, Davy! -there goes your best line, sinker, hooks and all. Give -me the other line. Ah, ha!—again—again—again. -This is sport. One—two—three——nine Bass, and -thirty Tautaug. So—the tide won’t serve here any -longer; we will stretch across to Brenton’s Reef, on -the other side. Up anchor, hoist away the jib. Here -we go, again coursing o’er the blue water. How the -wind lulls. Whew—whew—whew—blow wind, -blow! Put her a little more before it; that will do. -Hallo, you, Scipio! wake up—wake up. Here we -are, close on the reef—give her plenty of cable. Let -her just swing clear, to lay our sinkers on the rocks. -That will do. How the surges swell, and roar, and,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span> -recoiling, rush again boiling on the rocks. So—so, -they don’t bite well here to-day. The tide comes in -too strong flood; well, we can’t complain, we have -had good sport even as it is. Come, Africa, bear a -hand; let’s see what you have got in that big basket. -Come, turn out, turn out. Ham, chicken, smoked -salmon, bread and butter; and in that black bottle?—ay, -good old brown stout? Pass them along—pass -them along, and wo be unto thee, old fellow, if thy -commissariat falls short.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BRENTONS_REEF">BRENTON’S REEF.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>With what sullen and continuous roar the ocean -waves heave in upon this inhospitable reef. See, as -they recede, how the long slimy rock-weed hangs -dripping, and how deeply the returning surge buries -it again. Oh, never shall I forget the scene upon this -horrid reef, witnessed in my boyhood. A dark portentous -day in autumn, was followed in the evening -by a terrific storm. Low, muttering thunder, which -had been growling in the distant horizon, as the night -set in, grew louder. The perfect stillness which had -obtained, as if in preparation, was broken by long -moaning sighs; the lightning became quick and incessant, -and ere long, the tempest, like an unchained -demon, came bounding in from Ocean. The lightning -intensely vivid, accompanied by crashing and -terrific thunder, illuminated the surrounding coast with -glittering splendour; the islands, the rocks, and yon -beacon tower, now exposed to brightness, surpassing -noon-day, and now plunged into blackest darkness. -The ocean appeared a sea of molten fire. Rain—hail—dashed -hissing by, and mid the screaming of the -blast, and the torrents rushing from the skies, the huge<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span> -waves plunged, and roared, and lashed in milky whiteness, -broke mast high upon these horrid rocks. While -the fishermen in their cottages were thanking their -stars that they were snug and safe on shore, we heard -in the temporary lulls of the howling storm, signal -guns of distress. The neighbouring inhabitants, myself -among the number, were soon upon that point, -and by the glittering flashes within musket shot of the -shore, discerned a Spanish ship on the very ridge of -the frightful reef—the stumps of her masts alone remaining—the -surf running and breaking in a continual -deluge over her, while in her fore shrouds were congregated -the unhappy crew. She was so near to us, -that we could almost see the expression of agony in -their countenances, as, with extended hands they -piteously shrieked for help. Their situation was hopeless. -We could do nothing for them. No whale-boat -could have lived for a moment, the surf rolled in with -such resistless violence. We could only listen in -silent horror. We heard the very grinding of her -timbers, as shock on shock hastened her dissolution; -and amid the fury of the storm, and their frantic cries -for aid, never shall I forget, in the momentary lulls, -the sickening continuous wail of a young boy lashed -in the mid-rigging,—his supplicating exclamation, “Ai -Jesus!—Ai Jesus!” Often, years after, in my -dreams, did I hear those plaintive cries, and see that -young boy’s face turned imploringly to Heaven, while<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span> -that “Ai Jesus!—Ai Jesus!” rang wildly in my ears. -But a short time could human fabric sustain the ceaseless -plunge of the foaming elements. By the lightning -flashes, we could see the number of the sufferers -lessen, as relaxing their hold, they dropped off exhausted -one by one—swept into the rocky caverns below; -until, a longer interval of darkness—a more intense -flash of lightning—and all had disappeared. Nought -was left but the white foam as it rushed tumultuously -boiling and coursing over the long reef before us. It -was so brief—so hurried—the appearance of our fellow-creatures -in their agony, and their disappearance -so sudden, that it seemed a feverish dream. But the -dead, mutilated bodies—ceroons of indigo and tobacco—and -broken planks, swept along the shore on the -following morning, convinced us of its sad reality.</p> - -<p>The corse of the young boy, ungashed by the ragged -rocks, I found, and caused it to be buried apart -from the rest in the church-yard, for it appeared, as if -there was in his childish helplessness, a claim upon -me for protection. That expression of agony I ne’er -heard since—save once: and that—but Davy, we -have had all the sport we are like to have to-day—get -up the anchor, and we will fan along up to the harbour. -So—let her jibe—now put her before it—ay—that will -do.—As I was saying. Shortly after the close of the last -war, buoyant with youth and hope, I made, what was -then not so common as now, the tour of Europe—lingering<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span> -long in Old Spain, fascinated with the romantic -character of the countrymen of Cervantes—of the -gallant Moors—of the Alhambra and the Cid. It -chanced one evening, strolling about the streets of -Madrid in pursuance of adventure, that, passing -through one of the most unfrequented squares, I was -attracted by lights shining through the long Gothic -windows of a large chapel or cathedral. I approached, -and entering with some curiosity found it -entirely silent. No living soul was present within its -walls. The lofty chancel and altars were shrouded in -mourning. By the wax candles on the altars, I could -see the fretted arches—the shrines and monuments -along the walls—and the family banners wreathed in -gloomy festoons above them. I wandered about, alone -and uninterrupted. Nought moved, save the old -blood-stained flags, as they fitfully waived to and fro -in the wind. I gazed around me in admiration on the -rich shrines and their appropriate pictures. Here, -with her offerings of flowers, the wax candles, burning -bright and clear, was the Madonna, her lovely -countenance beaming with celestial sweetness, as she -looked down upon the infant Saviour nestling in her -arms—the Baptist standing at her knee, pressing the -plump little foot to his lips—and there, John in the -island of Patmos—his emaciated limbs staring from -their scanty covering of sackcloth—and his gaunt features -glowing with inspiration, as from among the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span> -cloud of scattered grey hair, and venerable beard, with -upturned face, he received from the flame-encircled -trumpet above him, the Holy Revelation.</p> - -<p>Here, armed cap-à-pied, the chivalrous Knights of -the Temple consigned their slain brother to his rocky -sepulchre, as with grim, stern, averted countenances -they watched the fierce conflict and assault of the daring -Infidel upon their Holy City—and there, the cross -of Constantine richly emblazoned on its altar, was the -<i>Crucifixion</i>, the Saviour extended on the cross—the -thieves on each side of him—the head just bowed—and -the awful “<i>It is finished!</i>” announced to the -nations in frightful phenomena. The sun turned to -blood, throwing a lurid and unnatural glare on the assembled -multitude—the war-horses, riderless, rearing -and plunging with distended nostrils—rolling in convulsions -the solid mountains;—the affrighted soldiery, -horror-stricken, wildly lifting their hands to ward off -the toppling crag, which, torn from its foundation by -the earthquake, was in another instant to grind them to -powder—while the Roman centurion, with curling lip, -holding tighter in his grasp the crimson flag, the -“<i>S. P. Q. R.</i>” shaking fiercely in the wild wind, -seemed to deride the coward Jew, even in that dread -moment, with his abject slavery—and here was San Sebastian, -his eyes streaming with martyr tears—and the -tinkling of a small bell struck upon my ear:—boys clad<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span> -in scarlet, swung their censers to and fro, and the incense -floated high above them to the vaulted arches.</p> - -<p>A train of monks, in purple robes embroidered with -white crosses, appeared in procession, slowly advancing -on the tesselated pavement, bearing on tressels, covered -with dark pall, a corse, by the muffled outline, -of manly stature. Two female figures; grave servitors, -with deep reverence supporting them, followed -close the dead. The deep thunder tones of the huge -organ, swept upward as they entered, wild, grand, and -terrible, as if touched by no earthly hand: scarce audible -sounds floating from the smallest pipes would -catch the ear—then bursts, like the roaring whirlwind, -pouring in the whole mass of trumpets, rolling, and -rising, and falling,—the most exquisite symphonies -floating in the intervals, until fainter, fainter, the heart -sickened in efforts to catch its tones. Dead silence -followed:—the corse was deposited in the chancel—the -dark black pall was slowly withdrawn, and the -noble figure of a cavalier in the bloom of manhood, -pallid in death, lay exposed before us. Clad in sable -velvet, his rapier rested on his extended body, the jewelled -cross-hilt reverently enclosed in his clasped -hands, as they met upon his broad chest, while the -luxuriant raven hair, parted on the high forehead, the -dark arched eye-brow, and the glossy moustache curling -on the lip, added deeper pallor, to what appeared -deep, deep sleep. The servitors withdrew, and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> -mother and the daughter advanced to the last sight of -him that was so generous, so kind, so beautiful—their -all. The thick veil, thrown hastily aside, discovered -the furrowed, time-worn, grief-worn features of the mother, -convulsively writhe and work, as, sinking at its -head, her lips pressed in uncontrollable agony the damp -cold white forehead. The sister, clad in robes of -purest whiteness, her golden ringlets dishevelled and -floating around her, and in their rich luxuriance, almost -hiding her graceful form, bent o’er him; and as her -gaze met not the answering smile of kindness and protection, -to which from infancy it was wont, but the -stern, calm, sharpened features, in their icy stillness; -then, as with frantic sobs, her exquisitely feminine, -almost childish countenance, streaming with tears, was -lifted upwards, and her hands wringing with anguish,—then -uttered in deep convulsive bitterness, that “<i>Ai -Jesus!</i>” in smothered tones, again struck upon my -startled ear. Long silence followed, unbroken save by -sobs, as, sunk by its side, they embraced the still, unconscious -ashes. Slowly the deep grave voices of the -monks rose in solemn tones, and as their mournful -chant sank into deep bass, at intervals was it taken up -by a single female voice in the choir, which, high -above the organ tones, with surpassing sweetness, ascended -higher, higher, until every nook in the lofty -arches above, appeared filled and overflowing with the -rich melody: then, descending lower—lower—lower—the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> -imagination wildly sought it in the passing wind. -The monks drew near with uplifted and extended -hands, muttering in low tones their benediction; then -crossing themselves, encircling the corse on bended -knees, with eyes lifted up to heaven, uttered, in loud -voices—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Ora pro illo—mater miserecordiæ,”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">“Salvator Hominum—Ora pro illo”——</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“<i>Ora pro illo</i>,” again rose like a startled spirit from -the choir, in that single female voice, rising with an -intensity that made the old walls re-echo the petition—and -then, descending like the fluttering of a wounded -bird, it became less—less—and all was still.</p> - -<p>After a brief interval, leaning in apparent stupor -upon the arms of the affectionate retainers, the ladies -slowly withdrawing, passed again the chancel’s entrance, -and the sacred procession raising the body with -melancholy chant, bore it to the lower part of the -chapel. I heard the clank of iron, as the rusty portal -of the family sepulchre reluctant turned upon its -hinges;—and then rested from its human journey, that -corse forever. I made inquiries, but could learn nought -about the actors in the scene, other than that they were -strangers,—a noble family from the Havana;—that the -father—invalid—had died in crossing the sea—and the -usual story of Spanish love, and jealousy, and revenge, -had consigned the son and brother, in the bloom of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> -days, by duel, to his grave; and subsequently, that the -mother and sister had closed the history of the family, -dying, broken-hearted, in the convent to which they -had retired. But, here we are, at the wharf. Our -rapid journey approaches now its termination. A few -short hours, and we shall again be merged in the ceaseless -din of the city; the fair and tranquil face of nature -change for the anxious countenances of our fellow-men; -the joyous carol of the birds, the soft forest -breeze, and the sea-beach ripple, for paved streets and -our daily round of duty and of labour. We have -found “a world beyond Verona’s walls.” Perhaps at -future time we may again travel it together. Till -then, thanking you for your “right good and jollie” -company. Farewell!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="OLD_TRINITY_STEEPLE">OLD TRINITY STEEPLE.<br /> -<span class="smaller">BROADWAY NEAR THE BOWLING-GREEN.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>(Ground covered with ice—Furious storm of snow -and sleet. Two gentlemen becloaked and bemuffled, -hurrying in different directions, come in full contact, -and mutually recoiling hasten to make apology.)</p> - -<p>“My dear Sir—a thousand pardons.”—“No, indeed -Sir, ’twas I—I was the offending party.”—“No, I assure -you—I”—eh!—is it?—it is!—my old friend the -reader.—Why, my dear friend—you came upon me as -if you had been discharged from a Catapult—a Paixhan -shot was nothing to you? But where so fast in -the fury of the storm—Not to Union Square! Heavens! -Man, you will never reach there living—Why -in this horrid cold the spirits of Nova-Zembla and -Mont-Blanc are dancing in ecstacy about the fountains -in the Park, and the very cabs are frozen on their -axles! Never think of it. Come—come with me to -my rooms hard by in State-street, and on the word of a -bachelor and a gentleman, I’ll promise to make you -comfortable. Come, take my arm—Whew! how this -North-Wester sweeps around the Battery. Here we -are—This is the house—A real aristocratic old mansion; -is it not?—Enter, my dear friend—Run up the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span> -stairs—Holloa! ho! Scip!—Scipio—Africanus—Angel -of Darkness—come forth—come forth—Ay! here -you are. And you, too, shaggy old Neptune, your eyes -sparkling with delight, and your long tongue hanging -out over your white teeth—down—you old rascal—down -sir—down. Now, is not this snug and comfortable—a -good roaring fire of hickory—none of your -sullen red-hot anthracite for me. How the cold wind -howls through the leafless trees upon the Battery,—Draw -the curtains—Scip!—Come, bear a hand, take -the reader’s hat and coat. Invest him with the wadded -damask dressing gown that Tom sent home from -Cairo—and the Turkish slippers—So—so—Now bring -me mine; place the well-stuffed easy chairs; roll the -round table up between us—bring in the lights. -Now, reader, at your elbow, lo! provision for your -wants, material and mental—genuine old Farquhar -and amber Golden Sherry—the Chateaux I got years -since from Lynch; and just opened is that box of genuine -Regalias, only smell! “Fabrica de Tabacos—Calle-a-Leon—En -la Habana, No. 14.” Is it not Arabia’s -perfume! Ha! give me your smoking Spaniard -in his sombrero—e’er any a half-naked Bedouin of -them all;—or if indeed you do prefer it, there stands -the Chiboque coiled up in the corner, and the metaphysical -German’s meer-schaum on the shelf. There -are biscuit and anchovies, and olives, “old Cheshire,” -and other inviting things for your wants physical, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span> -for your mental, lo! uncut and damp from the publishers -with the regular new book smell—the North American—Old -Blackwood—the Quarterly—the Edinburgh -Review—Diedrich in his high back chair, the Sporting -and other Maga’s, and by a slight curve of thy vertebræ -cervical, behold shining through yon glazed doors—glowing -in gold, dross to the gold within; the great -master Bard of England—Cervantes—the chosen spirits -of Italia and Gaul—Irving—worthy to be called -Washington—Bryant—sweet poet—and Halleck, genuine -son of the voyagers in the Mayflower—and of -literature much other goodly store.</p> - -<p>Now, Scip! Lord of the Gold Coast—throw more -wood upon the fire—Ay! that will do—my good old -faithful servant—that will do—now take that pepper -and salt head of thine down to the kitchen hearth, -there to retail thy legend and goblin story, or ensconce -thee in the corner at thy will—Ah! hah, old Neptune—snug -in thy place upon the hearth rug—thy nose lying -between thy outstretched paws as thou lookest intently -in the fire—Bless thine honest heart!—thinking, I -warrant me, of the beautiful child whom thou didst -leap the Battery bridge to save. How bravely thou -didst bear the little sufferer up on the fast rushing tide. -The grateful father would have bought thee for thy -weight in gold, as thou didst lie panting and half exhausted—but -look not so wistfully my dog—a sack of -diamonds could not purchase thee—no—never do we<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> -part till death steps in between us—and, by my faith, -an’ thou goest first, thou shalt have Christian burial.</p> - -<p>Now, dear reader, as thou reclinest comfortably -in that big arm chair, thy feet in Ottoman slippers resting -on the fender, the blue smoke of thy cigar wreathing -and curling around thy nose, as it ascends in placid -clouds, and floats in misty wreaths above thy forehead—the -glass of Chateaux, like a ruby resting upon its slender -stem, light, quivering at thy elbow, and that open -Blackwood upon thy knee—dost not—confess it—dost -not feel more kind and charitable, than if, with -benumbed fingers, thou wert following a frozen visage -to thy distant mansion, in the great city’s far purlieus—</p> - -<p>But, heaven guard us! how savagely the tempest roars -and howls around the chimney tops—Good angels -preserve the poor mariner as he ascends the ice-clad -rigging—lays out upon the slippery yard—and handles -with frost-benumbed fingers the rigid canvass folds. -Ah! I recollect it was in just such a night as this, a -few years since—years that have rolled past into retrograde -eternity, that I was seated in that same arm chair, -in the same bachelor independence, the fire burning just -as brightly—the curtains as snugly drawn—my beautiful -Flora looking down with the same sweetness from her -frame above the mantel—my snow white Venus between -the piers—the Gladiator stretching forth his arm in just -such proud defiance from his pedestal—my Rembrandt—Claude—and -Rubens flickering in softness in the firelight—the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span> -Fornarina and St. Cecilia with vase of incense -clasped, and upturned eyes of deep devotion, hanging in -the same placid stillness between their silken tassels, -and that Æolian harp chiming just such wild and fitful -strains—’twas in just such a cold and inhospitable -night, that, sitting with my legs extended upon the fender, -I fell into a train of rather melancholy musings.</p> - -<p>The clock of St. Paul’s slowly doled out the hour -of midnight, and it seemed as if in the responsive, -al-l’-s-w-e-l-l of the watchman, rendered indistinct by -the distance, the spirit of the hour was bewailing in -plaintive tones the annihilation of its being. Time’s -brazen voice announced to unheeding thousands—“Ye -are rushing on eternity.” I thought of my friends who -had dropped off one by one, from around me,—youth -and old age had alike sunk into the abyss of death—consumption—fever—palsy—had -done their work; -the slight ripple of their exit had subsided, and all was -still—as quiet and as beautiful as if they had never -been. Among others, was poor Louisa S——, in the -prime of her youth, and the bloom of her beauty. -But one short week—she was the pride of her friends, -the idol of her husband;—in another, the slow toll of -the village bell announced her funeral. I shall never -forget the scene. The soft yellow light of the declining -sun was streaming through the lofty elms which -bordered the rustic grave-yard, painting their broad -shadows on the velvet turf, as the procession of mourners<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span> -slowly wended their way among the mounds which -covered the decaying remnants of mortality. Leaning -upon a tomb-stone near the fresh dug grave, I had -awaited its arrival. The bier was placed upon the -ground—the coffin-lid was thrown open, and friends -looked for the last time upon the beautiful face, pallid -and sharp in death. Her dark hair was parted upon -her forehead,—but the dampness of death had deprived -it of its lustre, and her soft eyes were closed in the -slumber from whence they were never again to wake. I -gazed long and painfully upon that face which appeared -to repose only in serene and tranquil sleep, while the -sobbing group reached forward to catch a last and -parting glimpse of it in its loveliness. Oh! I could not -realize that the lovely form was still forever—that -those lips were to remain closed, till the day, when -amid whirlwinds and fire, they were to plead her -cause before the Almighty. The coffin-lid was replaced -in silence—a suppressed whisper from the sexton—a -harsh grating of the cords, and the gaping pit -received its prey. While the clergyman in his deep -and gloomy voice, was pronouncing the burial service -of the dead, I looked around upon the uncovered -group,—the mother and sister in unrestrained sobs, -gave vent to their anguish, but the husband stood, his -eyes fixed upon the grave in deep and silent agony. -He moved not, but when the dead heavy clamp of earth -and stones fell upon the coffin, which contained the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span> -remains of all that was dear to him, he gave a gasp, as -if he had received a death wound—but that was all;—the -thick, convulsive breathing, and the swollen arteries -upon his temples, showed that his was the bitterness -of despair. Ere long, his wasted form beneath -its own green hillock, rested at her side.</p> - -<p>I had sat some time, thinking “of all the miseries -that this world is heir to,” when gradually, my room -became mazy, the tongs and fender were blended -into one—the fire slowly disappeared, and, to my -utter horror and astonishment, I found myself swinging -upon the weather-cock of Trinity Church steeple.—How -I came there, I could not tell, but there I was. -Far, far below me, I saw the long rows of lamps in -Broadway and the adjoining streets, shining in lines -of fire; while here and there the glimmer of those -upon the carriages, as they rolled along, resembled the -ignis fatui in their ghostly revels upon the morass. -The bay lay in the distance, glittering in the moonlight, -a sea of silver, the islands and fortresses like -huge monsters resting upon its bosom. All nature -appeared at rest. An instant, and but an instant, I -gazed in wild delight upon the scene; but as the -novelty vanished, the dreadful reality of my situation -became apparent. I looked above me—the stars -were trembling in the realms of space. I looked below, -and shuddered at the distance—I tried to believe -that I was in a dream—but that relief was denied me.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span> -I grew wild with fear—I madly called for help—I -screamed—I yelled in desperation. Alas! my voice -could not be heard one half the distance to earth. I -called on angels—Heaven, to assist me,—but the cold -wind alone answered, as it rushed around the steeple -in its whistle of contempt. As my animal spirits were -exhausted, I became more calm. I perceived that -the slender iron upon which the weather-cock was -fixed was slowly bending with the weight of my body, -already benumbed with cold. Although it was madness, -I ventured a descent. Moving with extreme caution, -I clasped the spire in my arms—I slid down inch -by inch. The cold sweat poured off my brow, and -the blood curdling in my veins, rushed back in thick -and suffocating throbs upon my heart. I grasped the -steeple tighter in my agony—my nails were clenched -in the wood—but in vain; slip—slip—the steeple -enlarged as I descended—my hold relaxed—the flat -palms of my hands pressed the sides, as I slid down -with frightful rapidity. Could I but catch the ledge -below! I succeeded—I clutched it in my bleeding -fingers—for a moment I thought that I was safe, but I -swung over the immense height in an instant; the -wind dashed me from side to side like a feather. I -strove to touch the sides of the steeple with my knees—I -could not reach it—my strength began to fail—I -felt the muscles of my fingers growing weaker. The -blackness of despair came over me. My fingers slid<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> -from the ledge—down—down I plunged—one dash -upon the roof, and I was stretched motionless upon the -pavement.</p> - -<p>A crowd collected around me. I heard them commiserating -my fate. They looked at me, and then at -the steeple, as if measuring the distance from whence -I had fallen; but they offered me no assistance. They -dispersed—I slowly raised myself on my feet—all was -cold and still as the grave. Regions of ice—an immense -transparent mirror, extended on every side -around me. The cold, smooth plain, was only measured -by the horizon. I found myself on skates;—I -rushed along, outstripping the winds,—I ascended -mountains of ice,—I descended like a meteor—Russia, -with her frozen torrents,—Siberia with its eternal snows, -were behind me,—miles and degrees were nothing—on -I rushed,—Iceland vanished,—with the speed of a thunderbolt -I passed Spitzbergen,—days, weeks expired, but -still I sped forward, without fatigue, without exhaustion. -How delightfully I glided along—no effort—no exertion—all -was still, cold, and brilliant. I neared the pole,—the -explorers were slowly wending their tedious way,—they -hailed me, but I could not stop,—I was out of sight -in an instant. I saw an immense object swinging to -and fro in the distance—it was the great and mighty -pendulum. As I neared it, a confused noise of voices -broke upon my ear,—mathematical terms echoed and re-echoed -each other, like the hum of a bee-hive. I was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span> -surrounded with winged chronometers, barometers and -magnets—plus, (+) minus (-) and the roots (√ √) -were flying around me in every direction, jostling each -other without mercy. Great long-legged compasses -with knowing look were gravely listening to the measured -tick of prim chronometers, and groups of angles -and parallelograms watched the variations of the -needle. Every instrument of science appeared collected -in solemn conclave, for great and mighty purpose,—but -soon all was hubbub and confusion. The -compasses and Gunther’s scale had come to blows. -Angles and triangles, oblongs and cones, formed a -ring around them. Little cylinders and circles came -rolling in from every quarter to see the fun, and bottle-holding -squares and cubes stood stoutly at their -champions’ sides, while electric jars mounted on a -neighbouring dial, in highest glee, spirited forth whole -streams of snapping sparks to incite them in the contest. -The scale was down, and the compass bestrode him in -proud defiance; but the bottle-holders interfering, all -was instant uproar and confusion, and the fight soon became -one common melée. Pins flew about, and springs -and wheels went whizzing through the throng, but amid -the tumult, suddenly appeared a huge electrical machine, -grinding wrathfully along, and soon the field was -cleared, and nought was seen save here and there -some limping figure hobbling off in desperate precipitation. -But amid the uproar, the giant pendulum still<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> -swung forward and backward with the noiseless motion -of the incubus;—I neared it and saw that the top -of the huge rod was riveted by the pole star, which -shone with the intensity of the diamond. But—but—</p> - -<p>I saw the ship approaching among the distant icebergs—the -great lordly icebergs,—how they rolled -and roared and ground against each other in the heavy -surge!—their huge sides now shining great sheets of -silver—now glancing with the deep blue of the precious -sapphire, now quivering in the sun’s rays, with all the -hues of the grass-green emerald and blazing ruby,—ha! -I saw her—I saw the gallant ship threading her -way among them, as their castellated sides towered -mountain-like above her. I made one spring—one -gallant spring—and catching by her top-mast, slid down -in safety to her decks. Her sails were spread widely -to the winds and recklessly we ploughed our course -onward through the icy flood;—but now her speed -diminished—now we scarcely moved. The rudder -creaked lazily from side to side, and the long pennant -supinely resting on the shrouds, languidly lifted itself -as if to peer into the dark flood, and then serpent-like, -settled itself again to its repose. A sullen distant roar -began to break upon my ear,—it increased,—our before -quiet bark, hastening, rushed onwards as if ashamed -of her dull reverie; but still there was no wind—the -sea was smooth and placid, but the swelling surge was -thrown forward from her bows, by the increasing velocity<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span> -with which we dashed along. The rushing noise -of waters increased, and sounded like distant thunder; -the white surges showed themselves in the distance, -leaping and jumping with frightful violence. I approached -the captain;—his gloomy brow—the ghastly -paleness of the crew, as with folded arms they stood -looking in the distance, alarmed me. I eagerly asked -the cause of the appearances before me,—he answered -not,—he stood immoveable as a statue:—but, in a cold -unearthly voice, a scar-marked sailor groaned, “We -are food for the Maelstroom!”—Can we not, I franticly -exclaimed—oh! can we not escape? Bend every sail—ply -every oar,—“Too late—too late,” echoed again -the gloomy voice—“our doom is sealed;”—and the finger -of the speaker pointed to a dark fiendish figure at -the helm, who, with a low hellish laugh, was steering -for the midst. The raging waves boiled and roared -around us,—our fated ship plunged forward—a steady -resistless power sucked us in,—on we were hurried to -our frightful goal. The whale—the leviathan, swept -by us—their immense bodies were thrown almost entirely -in the air,—their blood stained the foaming brine—they -roared like mad bulls. The zigzag lightning in -the black canopy above us, was reflected in fiery -showers from the spray—the crashing thunder mingled -with the yells of the struggling monsters—their efforts -were vain—more power had infants in giants’ hands,—the -devouring whirlpool claimed us for its own. On<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> -we were borne in unresisting weakness—faster and -faster,—circle after circle disappeared,—we were on -the edge of the furious watery tunnel,—we were buried -in its depths,—the long arms of the loathsome -polypi stretched forward to seize us in their foul embrace—but -an unseen hand raised me.</p> - -<p>Green woods—gardens, fountains, and grottoes were -around me. Beautiful flowers—roses—hyacinths, and -lilies clustering in immense beds, covered the ground -with one great gem’d and emerald carpet. The -gorgeous tulip, the amaranthus and moss rose vied -with each other in fragrant rivalry, and the modest -little violet, claimed protection in the embraces of -the myrtle. Fountains poured mimic cataracts into -their marble basins, or, spouting from the mouths of -sphinxes and lions, ascended in crystal streams, irrigating -with copious showers the party-coloured beds -beneath. The long vistas were shaded with the magnolia -and flowering almond, while snow-white statues -watched the beautiful picture of happiness around. -Birds of variegated colour and splendid plumage were -flying from tree to tree, and it appeared as if in their -sweet notes, and the fragrance of the flowers, nature -was offering up her incense to the Creator.</p> - -<p>I was invigorated with new life—I ran from alley to -alley—delicious fruits tempted my taste—the perfumes -of Arabia floated in the earthly paradise,—music floated -around,—trains of beautiful girls moved in graceful<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span> -ballets before me,—their slender forms were clad in -snow-white robes,—their girdles gemmed with diamonds—their -alabaster necks twined with wreaths -of roses.—A joyous laugh burst from them, as they -danced—now in circles—now advancing—now retreating. -The circle opened,—a veiled figure was in -the midst,—I approached—the fairies disappeared,—the -veil was slowly lifted,—one moment—my Cora!—we -were alone,—we wandered from bower to bower—her -small white hand with electric touch, was -within my delighted grasp,—her golden ringlets mingled -with my raven locks—her dark eyes melted into -mine. I fell upon my knee—a cold and grizzly skeleton -met my embrace—the groups of houris were -changed into bands of shrivelled hags;—in place of -wreaths of roses, their shrivelled necks were covered -with the deadly nightshade and dark mandragora—forked -adders and serpents twined upon their long -and bony arms,—I shuddered,—I was chained in -horror to the spot,—they seized me—they dragged -me downward to the dank and noisome vault.—’Twas -light as day—but ’twas a strange light—a greenish -haze—sickly and poisonous as if the deadly miasma -of the fens had turned to flame. The dead men with -burning lamps were sitting on their coffins,—their chins -resting upon their drawn up knees, and as I passed -along the extended rows, their eyes all turned and -followed me, as the eyes of portraits from the canvass.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> -Ha! what cadaverous unearthly stare met me at every -turn;—I looked on all sides to avoid them, but still, -where’er I turned, the ghastly muffled faces with their -blanched lips, and deep sunken eyes livid in their -sockets, surveyed me with frightful interest,—and that -fierce old hag—how she preceded me—step by step—her -finger pointing forward, while her Medusa head -was turned triumphantly over her shoulder, with its -infernal leer upon my cowering form.—Worlds would -I have given to have been out from among the ghastly -crew—but a spell was on me—and I hurriedly made -the circuit of the vault, like a wild beast in his cage. -But the old knight, sitting grim and ghastly as if by -constraint, in the lone corner, his long grizzly beard -flowing o’er his winding-sheet,—O! how his cold -grey eye glanced at his long two handed sword before -him, as I passed, as if to clutch it,—I plucked the old -greybeard for very ire—ha! what a malignant and discordant -yell did then salute my horror-struck senses,—I -gave one bound of terror—and burst the prison door—and—and—</p> - -<p>My noble white charger leaped clear of the earth, -as he felt my weight in the saddle,—I was at the head -of an immense army—my bold cuirassiers formed a -moving mass of iron around me. The bugle sounded -the signal for engagement;—peal after peal of musketry -flashed from the dark masses,—the rattling reverberating -roar rolled from right to left,—the gaping<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> -throats of the cannon, announced in broad flashes, the -departure of their messengers upon the journey of -death. On we rushed—battalion on battalion,—we -stormed the redoubt,—“Charge,” I shouted,—“Charge -the villains—men of the fifth legion—follow your -leader—hurrah—they bear back.”—I seized the standard -from a fallen soldier,—I planted it upon the blood-stained -parapet—horrible confusion!—the trenches -were choked with dead—Hah! brave comrade beware!—his -bayonet is at thy shoulder—’tis buried -in thy heart.—I will revenge thee!—I dashed upon -him,—we fought like tigers,—we rolled upon the -ground,—I seized my dagger—the bright steel glittered—thousands -of deep hoarse voices wildly roared—“The -mine—the mine—beware—beware!” Flash—roar—bodies—earth—rocks—horses—tumbrils,—all -descending, covered me—and—and</p> - -<p>I awoke—the fender and fire-irons upset with horrid -din and clatter—the table, its lights and tea-set -hurled around—and myself with might and main striving -with mighty effort to get from beneath the prostrate -wreck which in my terror I had dragged above me.—Old -Neptune, aghast, howling in consternation, from -the corner, while a group of fellow-boarders, half dead -with laughter and amazement, were staring through the -open door in wonder at such unusual uproar from the -lodger in quiet “No. VI.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="LONG_ISLAND_SOUND">LONG ISLAND SOUND.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>But hark! Old Scipio is fast asleep and snoring -like Falstaff behind the arras. Now that old negro -is as assuredly dreaming of witches, or wrecks, or -pirates, or ghosts, that have been seen flitting about -the burying-grounds and country church-yards at midnight, -as he sits there. He is somewhere between -eighty and one hundred, he does not exactly know -which; but as your negro keeps no family record, it is -safe to allow a lee-way of some ten years in the calculation -of his nativity. Of his genealogy though, -he is quite sure, for he proves beyond a doubt, that -he is the son of Job, who was the son of Pomp, who -was the son of Caleb, who was the son of Cæsar, who -was the son of Cudjoe, who was caught in Africa. -His whole life has been passed in and about the -shores of Long Island Sound, and he is not only a -veritable chronicle of the military adventures that have -been enacted upon its borders in the American wars, -but his head is a complete storehouse, stuffed to overflowing -with all sorts of legendary lore, of wrecks, of -pirates, of murders and fights, and deeds unholy—of -massacres, bombardments and burnings, all jumbled up -in such inexplicable confusion, history and legend,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span> -truth and fiction, that it is almost impossible to divide -the one from the other. Sometimes in the cold winter -nights, when the storm is howling, as it does now, I -put him upon the track, and upon my word, the influence -of his gossip told in drowsy under tone is such, -that I find it a matter of serious question, whether the -most monstrous things in the way of the supernatural, -are by any means matter of wonderment; and fully -concede, that men may have been seen walking about -with their heads under their arms, vanishing in smoke -upon being addressed—that old fishermen have sculled -about the creeks and bays in their coffins, after they -were dead and buried—that gibbets are of necessity -surrounded by ghosts, and that prophecies and predictions, -and witchcraft are, and must be true as holy -writ.</p> - -<p>Indeed, with all the sad realities of life about me, I -find it refreshing to have my soul let loose occasionally, -to wander forth, to frolic and gambol, and -stare, without any conventional rule, or let, or hindrance -to restrain it. In how many adventures has -that good old negro, quietly sleeping in the corner, -been my guide and pilot. In our shooting, and fishing -and sailing excursions, the shores of the Sound became -as familiar to us as our own firesides, and the -dark black rocks, with their round and kelp covered -sides as the faces of old friends and acquaintance.</p> - -<p>At a little village upon its western borders I passed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> -my school-boy days, and there it was that the old -negro, formerly a slave, but long liberated and in part -supported by my family, had his hut. There it was -that under his influence I thoroughly contracted the -love of adventure which, in the retrospect still throws -a sort of world of my own around me. All sport, -whether in winter or summer, night or day, rain or -shine, was alike to me the same, and sooth to say, if -sundry floorings, for truant days had been administered -to Old Scip instead of me, the scale of justice had -not unduly preponderated; for his boats, and rods, and -nets, to say nothing of his musket which had belonged -to a Hessian, and the long bell-mouthed French fusee -were always sedulously and invitingly placed at my -control. The old negro was sure to meet me as I -bounded from the school-room with advice of how the -tides would serve, and how the game would lie, and -his words winding up his information in a low confidential -under-tone still ring upon my ear, “P’rhaps -young massa like to go wid old nigger.”</p> - -<p>His snug little hut down at the Creek side was covered -and patched and thatched with all the experiments -of years to add to its warmth and comfort. Its gables -and chimney surmounted with little weather-cocks and -windmills spinning most furiously at every whiff of -wind, its sides covered with muskrat and loon skins -nailed up to dry, and fishing rods and spears of all -sizes and dimensions piled against them, the ducks<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> -and geese paddling about the threshold and his great -fat hog grunting in loving proximity to the door way, -while its interior was garnished with pots and kettles, -and other culinary utensils; the trusty old musket hanging -on its hooks above the chimney place; the fish nets -and bird decoys lying in the corners, and the white-washed -walls garnished and covered with pictures, -and coloured prints of the most negro taste indigo and -scarlet,—naval fights—men hanging on gibbets,—monstrous -apparitions which had been seen—lamentable -ballads, and old Satan himself in veritable semblance, -tail, horns and claws, precisely as he had appeared in -the year Anno Domini, 1763; and under the little square -mahogany framed fly specked looking-glass, his Satanic -Majesty again in full scarlet uniform as British Colonel -with a party of ladies and gentlemen playing cards, -his tail quietly curled around one of the legs of his -arm chair, and the horse hoof ill disguised by the great -rose upon his shoe. But Scip’ was safe against all -such diabolic influence, for he had the charmed horse -shoe firmly nailed over the entrance of his door.</p> - -<p>Oh! how often have I silently climbed out of my window -and stealthily crept down the ladder which passed -it, long and long before the dawn, with my fowling piece -upon my shoulder, and by the fitful moonlight wended, -half scared, my way through the rustic roads and lanes, -leaping the fences, saturated to the middle with the -night-dew from the long wet grass, the stars twinkling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span> -in the heavens, as the wild scudding clouds passed -o’er them, and nothing to break the perfect stillness. -How often at such times have I stopped and stared at -some suspicious object looming up before me, till, mustering -courage, I have cocked my piece and advancing -at a trail, discovered in the object of my terror, a dozing -horse, or patient ox, or cow quietly ruminating at the -road side.</p> - -<p>How often have I sprung suddenly aside, my hair -standing on end, as a stealthy fox or prowling dog rushed -by me into the bushes, and felt my blood tingle to -my very fingers’ ends, as some bird of prey raised himself -with an uneasy scream and settled again upon the -tree tops, as I passed beneath. How I used to screw -my courage up, as with long strides and studiously -averted eyes, I hurried past the dreaded grave yard; -and as I came upon the borders of the winding creek, -and walked splashing through its ponds and shallows, -how would I crouch and scan through the dim light to -catch a glimpse of some stray flock of ducks or teal, -that might be feeding upon its sedges. How would I -bend and stoop as I saw them delightfully huddled in -a cluster, till getting near I would find an envious bend -of long distance to be measured before I could get a -shot. How patiently would I creep along—and stop—and -crouch—and stop, till getting near, and nearer—a -sudden slump into some unseen bog or ditch would be -followed by a quick “quack”—“quack”—and off they’d<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span> -go—far out of reach of shot or call. But all would be -forgotten when I reached the old Negro’s hut. There -a hot corn cake and broiled fish or bird, was always on -the coals to stay my appetite—and then off we’d sally -to the Bar to lie in wait for the wild fowl as they came -over it at day break. The snipe in little clouds would -start up with their sharp “pewhit” before us, as we -measured the broad hard flats left damp and smooth by -the receding tide; the Kildare with querulous cry would -wing away his flight, and the great gaunt cranes, looming, -spectre-like, in the moonlight, sluggishly stalking -onwards, would clumsily lift their long legs in silence -as we advanced, and fan themselves a little farther -from our proximity.</p> - -<p>Arriving, we would lay ourselves down, and on the -stones await the breaking of the dawn, when the wild-fowl -feeding within the bay arise and fly to the south-ward -over it. Dark objects, one after another, would -glide by us, and in silence take their places along the -bar, bent on the same sport that we were awaiting, -and nothing would break the stillness save the gentle -wash and ripple of the waves upon the sands, or the -uneasy and discordant cry of the oldwives, feeding on -the long sedge within the wide-extended bay. The -stars would ere long begin to fade, the east grow grey, -then streaked with light, and every sportsman’s piece -be cocked with eager expectation. A flash—a puff of -smoke at the extreme end, showed that a flock had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span> -risen, and simultaneously birds would be seen tumbling -headlong. As the astonished flock glanced along -the bar—flash—flash—puff—bang, would meet them, -their numbers thinning at each discharge, till passing -along the whole line of sportsmen, they would be -almost annihilated; or wildly dashing through some -wider interval in the chain of gunners, they would cross -the bar and escape in safety. Then as the light increased -followed the excitement; the birds getting up -in dense flocks, all bent in one direction, a complete -feu-de-joie saluted them—flash—flash—flash—the reports -creeping slowly after, the wild-fowl tumbling -headlong, some into the water, and some upon the -sportsmen; while here a gunner, dropping his piece, -might be seen rushing in up to his neck recklessly -after his victim, and there some staunch dog’s nose -just above the surface, unweariedly pursuing the wing-broken -sufferer, which still fluttered forward at his near -approach. Ah, ha! that—that was sport. Hundreds of -wild-fowl, from the little graceful teal to the great fishy -loon and red-head brant, were the fruits of the morning’s -adventure. And what a contrast the sparkling -eyes and glowing faces of the elated sportsmen to -the city’s pale and care-worn countenances. They -were a true democracy, white man, and black, and -half-breed, the squire and the ploughman, all met in -like equality.</p> - -<p>Among the sportsmen on the bar at the season that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span> -I have just described, there was always found a tall, -gaunt, and extremely taciturn old Indian, who passed -among the people by the name of “Pequot.” His hut -was about a mile beyond Scipio’s, on the same creek, -and like him, he obtained his support mainly by the -fruits of his hunting and fishing. Now and then, in -the harvest, or when the game was scarce, he would -assist the farmers in their lighter work, receiving, with -neither thanks nor stipulation, such recompense as -they saw fit to make; and sometimes, in the cold -depths of winter, he would appear, and silently sitting -at their firesides, receive, as a sort of right, his trencher -at their tables. He was so kind in his assistance, -and so inoffensive to all around him, that he was -always sure of welcome. But there was a marked feature -in his character, and one most unusual to the Indian’s -nature, which was his dislike, almost to loathing, -of ardent spirits. He was a great deal at Scipio’s hut, -and I was strongly struck (boy as I was) with the harmony -which subsisted between two characters so apparently -dissimilar—the sullen, almost haughty Indian, -and the light-hearted, laughter-loving negro; but there -was a sort of common sympathy—of oppression, I -suppose—between them, for they always assisted one -another; and sometimes I have known them gone for -days together in their fishing expeditions on the Sound. -All the information that Scipio could give me about -him, was that he had been the same ever since he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> -known him, that he was supposed to have come in -from some of the Western tribes, and that from his -haunting a great deal about a neighbouring swamp, -where the gallant tribe of Pequots had, long years before, -been massacred by fire and sword, the people -had given him the name of Pequot. Whatever he -was, he was a noble old Indian; the poetry of the -character was left, while contact with the whites, and -the kind teachings of the Moravians had hewn away -the sterner features of the savage. I remember that -I used to look at him, with all a boy’s enthusiasm, -admiring him with a mingled sense of sympathy and -awe. Even old Scip showed him habitual deference, -for there was a melancholy dignity about him; and his -words, short and sententious, were delivered with -scrupulous exactness. I recollect once being completely -taken aback by the display of a sudden burst -of feeling, which completely let me into his ideal -claims and imaginary pretensions.</p> - -<p>There was a good-natured old Indian, by the name -of Pamanack, belonging to one of the tribes which still -clung to Long Island, in the vicinity of Montaukett, -who occasionally made his appearance off old Scip’s -hut, in the Sound, in his periogue, accompanied by -some half dozen long-legged, straight-haired, copper-coloured -youths, his descendants. They every now -and then came cruising along the various fishing-grounds, -and always, when in the vicinity of Scip, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span> -old Indian would pay him a visit, and receive a return -for the hospitality paid to the black man, when, in his -similar excursions, he got as far eastward as Montaukett. -On the particular occasion to which I have -alluded, old Pamanack had drank more than was good -for him, when the Pequot presented himself silently at -the door of Scipio’s hut, and leaning upon his long -ducking-gun, looked in upon the group. After a few -words of recognition passed between them, Pamanack -held out his black bottle, and invited the visiter to drink. -Pequot drew himself up to his extreme height, and for a -moment there was a mingled expression of loathing, abhorrence, -and ferocity, flashing from his countenance -that showed that his whole Indian’s nature was in a -blaze; but it was only momentary, for in another, the -expression vanished from his countenance, the habitual -melancholy resumed its place upon his features, and the -words fell slowly, almost musically, from his lips:—“The -fire water—the fire water—ay, the same—the -Indian and his deadly enemy.” Then looking steadily -at Pamanack, as he held the bottle still towards him:—“Pequot -will not drink. Why should Pamanack swallow -the white man’s poison, and with his own hands -dig his grave?</p> - -<p>“Pamanack is not alone! His squaw watches at -the door of his wigwam, as she looks out upon -the long waves of the ocean tumbling in upon -the shores of Montaukett. His young men gather -about him and catch the tautug from its huge<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span> -beetling rocks, and tread out the quahog from its muddy -bed. His old men still linger on the sandy beach, and -their scalp-locks float wildly in the fresh sea-breeze. -Pamanack has yet a home:—but Pequot—he is the -last of his race. He stands on the high hills of -Tashaway, and he sees no smoke but that from the -wigwams of the Long Knives. He moves in silence -along the plains of Pequonnuck,—but the fences of the -pale faces obstruct his progress. His canoe dances at -the side of the dripping rocks,—but the cheating white -men paddle up to his side. His feet sink in the -ploughed field,—but it is not the corn of the red man. -His squaw has rolled her last log, and lies cold in her -blanket. His young men,—the fire water and fire -dust have consumed them. Pequot looks around -for his people—where are they? The black snake -and muskrat shoot through the water as his moccasin -treads the swamp, where their bones lie, deep covered -from the hate of their enemies. Pequot is the last of -his race! Pamanack is good, but the heart of Pequot -is heavy. He cannot drink the fire water, for his -young men have sunk from its deadly poison, as the -mist-wreath in the midday sun. The good Moravians -have told him that it is bad—and Pequot will drink no -more—for his race is nearly run. Pequot will sit on -the high rocks of Sasco, and his robe shall fall from -his shoulders as his broad chest waits the death-arrow -of the Great Spirit. There will he sit and smoke in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span> -silence as he looks down upon the deserted hunting-grounds -of his fathers. Pequot’s heart is heavy,—Pequot -will not drink.” As he finished the last words, -he abruptly turned, and was soon far distant on the -sands, moving towards the high hill of which he had -spoken. The Great Spirit was kind to him, for a few -years after he was found stark and stiff, frozen to -death on the very rocks to which he had alluded. As -for old Pamanack, he did not appear to hold the fire -water in such utter abhorrence; for, taking a long swig -at the bottle, his eye following the retiring form of the -Pequot, he slowly muttered, “Nigger drink—white -man drink—why no Indian drink too?”</p> - -<p>But the Sound! the Sound! Oh! how many delightful -reminiscences does the name bring to my recollection. -The Sound! with its white sand banks, -and its wooded shores—its far broad bosom, covered -with fleets of sails scudding along in the swift breeze -in the open day, and its dark waves rolling and sweeping -in whole streams of phosphorescent fire from their -plunging bows as they dash through it in the darkness -of midnight. The Sound! redolent with military story. -The Sound! overflowing with supernatural legend and -antiquated history. Oh! reader, if you had been -cruising along its shores from infancy, as I have, -if you had grown up among its legends, and luxuriated -in its wild associations,—if you had spent whole days -on its broad sand beaches, watching the gulls as they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span> -sailed above you, or the snipe as they ran along on the -smooth hard flats,—if you had lain on the white frozen -snows on its shore in the still nights of mid-winter, -your gun by your side, gazing till your soul was lost in -the blue spangled vault, as it hung in serene and tranquil -grandeur above you, your mind, in unconscious -adoration, breathing whole volumes of gratitude and -admiration to the great God that gave you faculties to -enjoy its sublimity; and in the stillness, unbroken save -by the cry of the loon as he raised himself from the -smooth water, seen in every sail moving in silence -between you and the horizon the “Phantom Ship,” or -some daring bucaneer, and in every distant splash heard -a deed of darkness and mystery, then could you enter -into my feelings.</p> - -<p>Oh! to me its black rocks and promontories, -and islands, are as familiar as the faces of a -family. Are there not the “Brothers,” unnatural -that they are, who, living centuries together, never to -one another have as yet spoken a kindly word,—and -the great savage “Executioners,” and “Throgs,” and -“Sands,” and “Etons,” all throwing hospitable lights -from their high beacon towers, far forward, to guide the -wandering mariner; and the “Devil’s Stepping-stones,” -o’er which he bounded when driven from Connecticut; -and the great rocks too, inside of Flushing bay on -which he descended, shivering them from top to bottom -as he fell. And are there not the “Norwalk -Islands,” with their pines—“Old Sasco,” with her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> -rocks,—“Fairweather,” with the wild bird’s eggs deep -buried in her sands,—and the far-famed fishing-banks -off the “Middle ground.” Ay! and is it not from the -fierce boiling whirlpools of the “Gate” “to Gardiners,” -and the lone beacon tower of “Old Montaukett,” -one continuous ground of thrilling lore and bold adventure. -In her waters the “Fire ship” glared amid the -darkness, her phantom crew, like red hot statues, -standing at their quarters, as rushing onwards, in the -furious storm, she passed the shuddering mariner, -leaving, comet like, long streams of flame behind. -Beneath her sands the red-shirted bucaneers did hide -their ill-gotten, blood-bespotted treasure. Ay! and -’twas on her broad bosom that, with iron-seared conscience -sailed that pirate, fierce and bold, old Robert -Kidd; and to this very day his golden hoards, with -magic mark and sign, still crowd her wooded shores.</p> - -<p>Hah! ha! how, were he waking, old Scipio’s eyes -would upward roll their whites, if he did but hear that -name so dread and grim. If, from very eagerness, -he could utter forth his words, he would give whole -chapters—ay—one from his own family history—for -Kidd’s men caught old Cudjoe, his great ancestor, -clamming on the beach off Sasco, and without more -ado carried him aboard. As the old negro was sulky, -they tumbled his well-filled basket into the galley’s -tank, and incontinently were about to run him up to -dangle at their long yard-arm, when Kidd, who was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span> -taking his morning “drink of tobacco” on his poop, -roared out, in voice of thunder, “Ho! Scroggs—boatswain—dost -hang a black-a-moor at my yard-arm, -where so many gentlemen have danced on nothing?—In -the foul devil’s name, scuttle the goggled-eyed fiend -to the sharks overboard,”—and overboard he went, but -diving like a duck, he escaped their firelocks’ quick -discharge, and reached the shore in safety.</p> - -<p>Ay! and his deep buried treasures! Where went -the gold dust from the coast of Guinea?—the gems -from Madagascar?—where the dollars and doubloons -pirated from the Spanish galleons?—the broken plate -and crucifixes from the shores of Panama?—and where -the good yellow gold, stamped with the visage of his -most gracious majesty?—where! where, but on the -haunted borders of this very Sound. Why, the very -school-boys, playing in the woods upon its shores, know -when the earth doth hollow sound beneath their feet, -that Kidd’s treasure’s buried there. Do they disturb -it? No—not they—they know too well the fierce and -restless spirit that guards the iron pot. Didst ever -hear the brave old ballad—“<i>As he sail’d, as he sail’d?</i>” -It’s a glorious old ballad—it’s a true old ballad—and a -time-honoured old ballad—it gives his veritable history. -It has been printed in black letter, and sung time -out of mind. It has been chanted by the old tars in -sultry calms of the tropics, and the greasy whalers -have kept time to it over their trying kettles on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> -smooth Pacific. It has been sung amid the icebergs of -Greenland, and heard on the coast of New Holland; -the spicy breezes of Ceylon have borne it among the -sleeping tigers in their jungles, and the Hottentots have -pulled tighter their breech-cloths as they have listened -to its tones. The Chinese, and the Turks, and the -Dutchmen, and the Danes, and every thing human -within the smell of salt water, have heard it,—ay! and -that too in the rich manly tones of the English and -American sailors. Ho! Scip!—wake from out thy -corner, and give us the old ballad. Shades of red-capped -bucaneers!—fierce negro slavers!—spirits of -the gallant men who fought the British on her shores!—desperate -old Kidd in person!—we conjure you—we -conjure you—arise and hover around us, whilst we -chaunt the lay. Ho! Scipio!—the old ballad, as it -stood smoke-blacked, and grimed upon thy cabin’s -walls—ay! that is it—and in tones which chimed -well in unison with the dreary storm and howling blast -without.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span></p> - -<h3>“YE LAMENTABLE BALLAD, AND YE TRUE HISTORIE -OF CAPTAINE ROBERT KIDD, WHO WAS HANGED -IN CHAINS AT EXECUTION DOCK, FOR PIRACY -AND MURDER ON YE HIGH SEAS.”</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">He calleth upon the captains:</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">You captains bold and brave, hear our cries, hear our cries,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">You captains bold and brave, hear our cries,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">You captains brave and bold, tho’ you seem uncontroll’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Don’t for the sake of gold lose your souls, lose your souls,</div> - <div class="verse indent10">Don’t for the sake of gold lose your souls.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He stateth his name and acknowledgeth his wickedness:</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail’d, when I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My name was Robert Kidd, God’s laws I did forbid,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And so wickedly I did, when I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He beareth witness to the good counsel of his parents:</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">My parents taught me well, when I sail’d, when I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">My parents taught me well, when I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My parents taught me well to shun the gates of hell,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">But against them I rebell’d when I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He curseth his father and his mother dear:</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I cursed my father dear, when I sail’d, when I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I cursed my father dear, when I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I cursed my father dear and her that did me bear,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And so wickedly did swear, when I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">And blasphemeth against God:</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I made a solemn vow when I sail’d, when I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I made a solemn vow when I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I made a solemn vow, to God I would not bow,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Nor myself one prayer allow, as I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He burieth the Good Book in sand:</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I’d a Bible in my hand when I sail’d, when I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I’d a Bible in my hand when I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I’d a Bible in my hand by my father’s great command,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And I sunk it in the sand, when I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">And murdereth William Moore:</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I murdered William Moore, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I murdered William Moore, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I murdered William Moore, and left him in his gore,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Not many leagues from shore as I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote">And also cruelly killeth the gunner.</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And being cruel still, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And being cruel still, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And being cruel still, my gunner I did kill,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And his precious blood did spill, as I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">His mate, being about to die, repenteth and warneth him in his career.</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">My mate was sick and died as I sail’d, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">My mate was sick and died as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My mate was sick and died, which me much terrified,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">When he called me to his bedside as I sail’d.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And unto me he did say, see me die, see me die,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And unto me did say see me die,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And unto me did say, take warning now by me,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">There comes a reckoning day, you must die.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">You cannot then withstand, when you die, when you die,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">You cannot then withstand when you die,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">You cannot then withstand the judgments of God’s hand,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">But bound then in iron bands, you must die.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He falleth sick, and promiseth repentance, but forgetteth his vows.</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I was sick and nigh to death, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I was sick and nigh to death as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And I was sick and nigh to death, and I vowed at every breath</div> - <div class="verse indent2">To walk in wisdom’s ways as I sail’d.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I thought I was undone as I sail’d, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I thought I was undone as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I thought I was undone and my wicked glass had run,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">But health did soon return as I sail’d.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">My repentance lasted not, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">My repentance lasted not, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My repentance lasted not, my vows I soon forgot,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Damnation’s my just lot, as I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He steereth thro’ <i>Long Island</i> and other Sounds.</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I steer’d from Sound to Sound, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I steer’d from Sound to Sound, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I steer’d from Sound to Sound, and many ships I found</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And most of them I burn’d as I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He chaseth three ships of France.</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I spy’d three ships from France, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I spy’d three ships from France, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I spy’d three ships from France, to them I did advance,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And took them all by chance, as I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">And also three ships of Spain.</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I spy’d three ships of Spain, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I spy’d three ships of Spain as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I spy’d three ships of Spain, I fired on them amain,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Till most of them were slain, as I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span></p> -<div class="sidenote">He boasteth of his treasure.</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I’d ninety bars of gold, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I’d ninety bars of gold, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I’d ninety bars of gold, and dollars manifold,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">With riches uncontroll’d, as I sail’d.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He spyeth fourteen ships in pursuit, and surrendereth.</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Then fourteen ships I saw, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Then fourteen ships I saw as I sail’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Then fourteen ships I saw and brave men they are,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Ah! they were too much for me as I sail’d.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - - <div class="verse indent0">Thus being o’ertaken at last, I must die, I must die,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Thus being o’ertaken at last, I must die,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thus being o’ertaken at last, and into prison cast,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And sentence being pass’d, I must die.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He biddeth farewell to the seas, and the raging main.</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Farewell the raging sea, I must die, I must die,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Farewell the raging main, I must die,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Farewell the raging main, to Turkey, France, and Spain,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I ne’er shall see you again, I must die.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He exhorteth the young and old to take counsel from his fate:</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">To Newgate now I’m cast, and must die, and must die,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">To Newgate now I’m cast, and must die,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To Newgate I am cast, with a sad and heavy heart,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">To receive my just desert, I must die.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">To Execution Dock I must go, I must go,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">To Execution Dock I must go,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To Execution Dock will many thousands flock,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">But I must bear the shock, I must die.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Come all you young and old, see me die, see me die,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Come all young and old, see me die,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Come all you young and old, you’re welcome to my gold,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">For by it I’ve lost my soul, and must die.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">And declareth that he must go to hell, and be punished for his wickedness.</div> - -<div class="kidd-poem"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Take warning now by me, for I must die, for I must die,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Take warning now by me, for I must die,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Take warning now by me, and shun bad company,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Lest you come to hell with me, for I must die,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Lest you come to hell with me, for I must die.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="GREEN-WOOD_CEMETERY">GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY.</h2> - -</div> - -<div class="blockquote smaller"> - -<p>[To the untiring exertions of Major D. B. Douglass, Messrs. -Joseph A. Perry, Henry E. Pierrepont, Gerrit G. Van Wagenen, -and a few other liberal minded gentlemen, the public are indebted -for the design and completion of this beautiful place of repose -for the dead. It is anticipated that ten miles of avenue will be -completed during the coming summer, and when the whole is -laid out, according to the proposed plan, that there will be fifteen -miles of picturesque road within its precincts. Part of the -battle of Long Island in the Revolution was fought upon its -grounds, and it is intended at no distant day, to remove the remains -of those that perished in the Prison Ships to the Cemetery, -where they will sleep undisturbed beneath an appropriate monument. -The views from Mount Washington, and other eminences, -within its precincts, embrace the entire bay and harbour of New-York, -with their islands and forts: the cities of New-York and -Brooklyn; the shores of the North and East Rivers; New-Jersey, -Staten Island, the Quarantine; unnumbered towns and villages -sprinkled over the wide expanse of the surrounding country, and -the margin of the broad Atlantic, from Sandy Hook, to a distance -far beyond the Rockaway Pavilion. The fine old forest -which covers the greater part of the grounds, shrouding and almost -concealing from sight, several beautiful lakes and sheets of -water suggested the name, with which it has been consecrated, -the Green-Wood Cemetery.]</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Where, then, is death!</span>—and my own voice -startled me from my reverie as, leaning on my saddle-bow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span> -on the summit of Mount Washington in the Greenwood -Cemetery, I asked—<i>Where, then, is death!</i> The -golden sun of a delicious summer’s afternoon was -streaming o’er the undulating hills of Staten Island -lighting more brilliantly the snow-white villas and -emerald lawns:—the Lazaretto—its fleet gay with the -flags of all the nations, was nestling like a fairy city at -its feet:—the noble bay before me was one great polished -mirror—motionless vessels with white sails -and drooping pennants, resting on its surface, like -souls upon the ocean of Eternity, and every thing -around was bright and still and beautiful as I asked -myself the question—<i>Where, then, is death!</i></p> - -<p>The islands with their military works lay calm and -motionless upon the waters—the grim artillery, like -sleeping tigers crouched upon the ramparts and the -castle’s walls—but the glistening of the sentry’s polished -musket, and the sudden clamorous roll of drums -showed me, that—<i>not there was death</i>.</p> - -<p>I turned.—The great fierce city extending as far as -eye could reach—the sky fretted with her turrets and -her spires—her thousand smokes rising and mingling -with the o’erhanging-clouds;—as she rose above her -bed of waters, with hoarse continuous roar, cried to -me—“<i>Look not here, not here—for death!</i>” Her -sister city, with her towers and cupolas—her grassy -esplanades surmounted with verdant trees and far -extending colonnades embowered in shrubbery,—from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> -her high terraced walls, re-echoed the hollow roar—“<i>Not -here for death!</i>”</p> - -<p>The island lay extended far before me—its farms -and towns—its modest spires—its granaries—its verdant -meadows—its rich cultivated fields—its woods—its -lawns—all wrapped in silence, but still its whisper -softly reached me—“<i>Not here—not here—is -death!</i>”—E’en the great distant ocean, closed only -from my view by the far-reaching horizon, in sullen -continuous murmurs moaned—“<i>Not here is death!</i>”</p> - -<p>Where, then, I cried—<i>where, then, is death?</i> I -looked above me, and the blue vault hung pure and -motionless—light fleecy clouds like angels on their -journeys, alone resting on its cerulean tint,—around, -the evening breeze played calm and gently,—and beneath -the flowers and leaves were quivering with delight, -while the incessant hum of insect life, arising -from the earth with ceaseless voice, still cried—“<i>No—no—not -here is death!</i>”</p> - -<p>Ah! said I, this beautiful world shall be forever, and -there is—there is no death—but even as I spoke, a -warning voice struck with deep solemnity upon my -startled ear,—“Man that is born of woman, hath but -a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh -up, and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were -a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.”—And as -I turned, the funeral procession—its minister and its -mourners passed onward in their journey with the silent -dead.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span></p> - -<p>I looked after the retiring group, and again from -beyond the coppice which intervened, heard rising -in the same deep solemn tones,—“Write, from -henceforth, blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; -even so saith the spirit, for they rest from their labours,”—and -my soul cowered within itself like a guilty -thing, as it said—Amen.</p> - -<p>I looked again upon the scene before me and sighed,—e’en -such is human reason. That gorgeous -sun shall set—the gay villas and verdant lawns,—the -crowded shipping,—the beautiful bay with all -that rest upon its bosom, shall soon be wrapt in darkness,—the -gleaming watch-light disappear from yon -tall battlement, as the bugle sounds its warning note,—the -great fierce city be stilled in silence, while the -beating hearts within her midnight shroud, like seconds, -answer her tolling bells upon the dial of eternity,—and -the insect myriads—the flowers and leaves—ay!—the -great heavens themselves, shall from the -darkness cry—“<i>This is the portraiture of death!</i>”—for -the darkness and the silence are all that man can -realize of death.</p> - -<p>The hardy Northman with trembling finger points to -the mouldering frame work of humanity, and shudders -as he cries—“<i>Lo! there is death!</i>”—and the polished -Greek smiles delightedly on the faultless statue of the -lovely woman with the infant sleeping on her breast, -as he also cries—“<i>Lo! there is death!</i>”—yet both -alike with reverence do lay their final offering before<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span> -his gloomy shrine.—The squalid Esquimaux scoops -out the cavern in the never melting snows, for the frozen -form whose conflicts with the grizzly bear and -shuddering cold are done—and the mild Hindoo, with -affection, feeds the funeral pyre, and as the fragrant -column does arise, cries—“Soul of my brother—immortal -soul, ascend!”—The red man, in the far distant -prairie’s lonely wilds, pillows the head of the warrior-chief -upon his slain desert steed within its mound, -while the bronzed pioneer, throwing aside his axe and -rifle, hastily dashes away the tear as he inhumes beneath -its flowery bed his scar-marked comrade’s form.</p> - -<p>The secluded village hamlet, with pious care, within -the quiet grove, encloses a resting-place for its silent -few, disappearing at long intervals;—and here those -great living cities have chosen this silent city for their -dead, falling like the forest leaves in autumn.</p> - -<p>For the great army, who must ere long, march forth -to ground their arms before the grim and ghastly Conqueror, -’twere difficult to find more beautiful and -lovely resting place. E’en the sad mourner lingers -as he beholds its broad and lovely lawns, stretched -out in calm serenity before him;—its sylvan waters -in their glassy stillness; its antique elms, arching with -extended branches the long secluded lanes; its deep -romantic glens; its rolling mounds, and all its varied -scenery, ere with a softened sadness he turns him to -his desolate and melancholy home. Oh! spirits of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span> -our departed ones! We know that you have gone -forth from your human habitations, and that we shall -behold your loved forms no more forever. Oh! -therefore will we lay your deserted temples within -this consecrated ground, and, in imagination, fondly -see you sleeping still in tranquillity beneath its green -and silent sward.</p> - -<p>But lo! where upon the broad and verdant lawn, -the loose clods and dark black mould heaped carelessly -aside, the narrow pit awaits, ere it close again -from light, its tenant in his dark and narrow house. -The sorrowing group collect around, and the pall -slowly drawn aside, one moment more exhibits to -the loved ones, the pallid countenance of him about -to be hidden from their sight forever. The weeping -widow, in her dark habiliments, leans upon the arm -of the stern, sad brother, her little ones clinging to -her raiment in mingled awe and admiration of the -scene before them. “Ashes to ashes”—how she -writhes in anguish, as the heavy clods fall with hollow -unpitying jar upon the coffin lid—how like a lifeless -thing she hangs upon the supporting arm in which -her countenance is buried in agony unutterable; and -see the little ones, their faces streaming with wondering -tears, clasping her hands; how in happy ignorance, -they innocently, with fond endearing names, -still call upon him to arise.</p> - -<p>But the narrow grave is filled—the mourning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span> -group have gone—the evening shadows fall—the declining -sun sinks beneath his gorgeous bed in the -horizon, and in the thickening twilight, the dead lies -in his mound—alone. The night advances—the stars -arise, and the joyous constellations roll high onward -in their majestic journeys in the o’erhanging heavens—but -beneath—the tenant of the fresh filled grave, -lies motionless and still. The morning sun appears, -the dew, like diamonds, glitters on every leaf and -blade of grass—the birds joyously carol, and the merry -lark, upon the very mound itself, sends forth his cheerful -note—but all is hushed, in silence, to the tenant -who in his unbroken slumber sleeps within. The -Autumn comes, and the falling leaves whirl withered -from the tree tops, and rustle in the wind—the -Winter, and the smooth broad plain lies covered -with its pure and spotless cloak of driven snow, and -the lowly mound is hid from sight, and shows not, in -the broad midday sun, nor e’en at midnight, when the -silver moon sailing onwards in her chaste journey -turns the icicles into glittering gems, on the o’erhanging -branches as they bend protectingly towards it. -The Spring breathes warmly, and the little mound -lies green again—and now the mother bending o’er it, -lifts the rose and twines the myrtle, while the little -ones in joyous glee from the surrounding meadows, -bring the wild flowers and scatter them in unison upon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> -its borders. Oh! then!—were consciousness within—then -would the glad tenant smile.</p> - -<p>But let him, whose tears as yet fall not for any -dear one beneath its sod, ascend again with me the -Mount, and with retrospective gaze behold the living -drama, which has passed before it. The great world -around—the stage—lies still the same; but the actors, -all—all have passed onwards to their final rest. Into -the still gleaming past bend your attentive gaze. -Lo, the features of the scenery are still the same—the -bay’s unruffled bosom, and the islands; but -no sail now floats upon its surface, no gilded -spires in the distance loom, nor does the busy hum of -man reach us, as listening we stand—nought we see -but the far forest covering the main and islands, even -to the waters. The coward wolf howls in yon distant -glen—the partridge drums upon the tree tops—and the -graceful deer e’en at our sides browses in conscious -safety. Yon light dot moving upon the water?—’tis -the painted Indian paddling his canoe. Yon smoke -curling on the shore beneath us?—it is the Indian’s -wigwam—The joyous laugh arising among the trees? -It is his squaw and black-eyed children—the Indian -reigns the lord—reigns free and uncontrolled.</p> - -<p>But look again upon the waters floats a huge and -clumsy galliot—its gay and gaudy streamers flaunting -in the breeze; how the poor savages congregated on -yonder point, gaze in wonder as it passes—’tis the Great<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span> -Spirit, and the quaint figure with the plumed hat, and -scarlet hose glistening with countless buttons, on its -poop—some demi-god!—and as she onward moves, -behold the weather-worn seamen’s faces in her rigging, -how anxiously they return the gaze.—The forest children -muster courage—they follow in their light canoes.—The -galliot nears the Manahattoes—they ascend -her sides—hawks, bells and rings, and beads, and the -hot strong drink are theirs;—their land—it is the white -man’s.—See with what confidence he ensconces himself -upon the island’s borders—in his grasp, he has -the fish—the furs—the game—the poor confiding -Indian gives him all—and—behold the embryo city’s -fixed!</p> - -<p>But see!—Is that the Dutch boor’s cabin at our -feet?—Is that the Indian seated on the threshold, -while the Dutchman lolls lazily within!—Where—where -then is the Indian’s wigwam?—gone!</p> - -<p>Look up again—a stately fleet moves o’er the bay, in -line of battle drawn; the military music loudly sounds—dark -cannon frown from within the gaping ports, and -crews with lighted matches stand prepared—they near -the Manahattoes, and—and—the Orange flag descends—the -Dragon and St. George floats from the flag-staff -o’er the little town. Who is the fair-haired man that -drinks with the Dutchman at his cottage door, while the -poor Indian stands submissively aside?—“It is the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span> -Briton.”—I hear the laugh of youth—sure ’tis the Indian’s -black eyed brood?—“’Tis the Englishman’s yellow -haired, blue eyed children.”—Alas! alas! poor -forest wanderer—nor squaw—nor child—nor wigwam, -shall here be more for thee. Farewell—farewell.</p> - -<p>The little town swells to a goodly city—the forests -fall around—the farms stretch out their borders—wains -creak and groan with harvest wealth—lordly shipping -floats on the rivers—the fair haired race increase—roads -mark the country—and the deer and game, -scared, fly the haunts of men.—Hah!—the same flag -floats not at the Manahattoes!—now, ’tis Stars and -Stripes—See!—crowding across the river men in -dark masses—cannon—muniments of war—in boats—on -rafts—in desperate haste. Trenches and ramparts -creep like serpents on the earth—horsemen scour the -country—divisions—regiments—take position, and -stalwart yeomen hurrying forward, join in the ranks -of Liberty!—Hear! hear the wild confusion—the jar -of wheels—the harsh shrill shriek of trumpets and -the incessant roll of drums—the rattling musketry—the -sudden blaze and boom of cannon—it is the roar -of battle—it is the battle field!—Hear! hear the distant -cry—“St. George and merry England.”—“Our -Country and Liberty.”—Ah! o’er this very ground, -the conflict passes—See! the vengeful Briton prostrate -falls beneath the deadly rifle—while the yeomen -masses fade beneath the howling cannon shot—and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span> -hark! how from amid the sulphurous cloud the wild -“hurrah” drowns e’en the dread artillery.</p> - -<p>The smoke clouds lazily creep from off the surface—the -battle’s o’er and the red-cross banner floats -again upon the island of Manahattoes.—And now -again—the Stripes and Stars stream gently in the -breeze.</p> - -<p>The past is gone—the future stands before us. -Ay! here upon this very spot, once rife with death, -yonder cities shall lay their slain for centuries to -come—their slain, falling in the awful contest with the -stern warrior, against whom human strength is nought, -and human conflict vain. Years shall sweep on in -steady tide, and these broad fields be whitened with -countless sepulchres—the mounds, covered with graves -where affection still shall plant the flower and trail -the vine—in the deep valleys, and romantic glens to -receive their ne’er returning tenants; the sculptured -vaults still shall roll ope their marble fronts—beneath -the massive pyramid’s firm-fixed base, the Martyrs of -the Prisons find their final resting-place—and on this -spot the stately column shooting high in air, to future -generations tell, the bloody story of yon battle-field.</p> - -<p>All here shall rest;—the old man—his silver hairs -in quiet, and the wailing babe in sweet repose—the -strong from fierce conflict with fiery disease, and -bowing submissively, the poor pallid invalid—the old—the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span> -young—the strong—the beautiful—all—here shall -rest in deep and motionless repose.</p> - -<p>Oh! Being!—Infinite and Glorious—<span class="smcap">Unseen</span>—shrouded -from our vision in the vast and awful mists -of immeasurable Eternity—<span class="smcap">Creator</span>—throned in -splendour inconceivable, mid millions and countless -myriads of worlds, which still rushing into being at -thy thought, course their majestic circles, chiming -in obedient grandeur glorious hymns of praise—God -of Wisdom,—thou that hast caused the ethereal -spark to momentarily light frail tenements of clay,—grant, -that in the terrors of the awful Judgment, they -may meet the splendours of the opening heavens with -steadfast gaze, and relying on the Redeemer’s mediation, -in boundless ecstacy, still cry—<span class="smcap">Where—Where -then is Death</span>!</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 31.25em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/horse.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="APPENDIX">APPENDIX.</h2> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span></p> - -<h3>CONTENTS.</h3> - -</div> - -<table> - <tr> - <td class="nw">Note to the</td> - <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Resurrectionists</span>.—<a href="#note1">Ghost in the Grave Yard.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> ”</td> - <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Old Kennedy</span>, No. I.—<a href="#note2">Lieutenant Somers.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> ”</td> - <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Old Kennedy</span>, No. III.—<a href="#note3">“The Parting Blessing.”</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> ”</td> - <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Old Kennedy</span>, No. IV.—<a href="#note4">Explosion at Craney Island.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> ”</td> - <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Hudson River.</span>—<a href="#note5">Military Academy at West-Point.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td rowspan="2" class="valign"><span class="ditto">”</span> ”</td> - <td rowspan="2" class="nw valign"><span class="smcap">Night Attack on Fort Erie.</span>—</td> - <td>⎧</td> - <td><a href="#note6">The Dying Soldier.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>⎩</td> - <td><a href="#note7">The Officer’s Sabre.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td rowspan="7" class="valign"><span class="ditto">”</span> ”</td> - <td rowspan="7" class="valign"><span class="smcap">Lundy’s Lane.</span>—</td> - <td>⎧</td> - <td class="nw"><a href="#note8">Detailed Statement of the Battle.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>⎪</td> - <td><a href="#note9">Rainbow of the Cataract.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>⎪</td> - <td><a href="#note10">The Day after the Battle.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>⎨</td> - <td><a href="#note11">The two Sergeants.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>⎪</td> - <td><a href="#note12">Death of Captain Hull.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>⎪</td> - <td><a href="#note13">Scott’s Brigade.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>⎩</td> - <td><a href="#note14">Death of Captain Spencer.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> ”</td> - <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Montreal.</span>—<a href="#note15">Military Insignia.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> ”</td> - <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Lake George.</span>—<a href="#note16">Attack on Fort Ticonderoga.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td rowspan="2" class="valign"><span class="ditto">”</span> ”</td> - <td rowspan="2" class="valign"><span class="smcap">Bass Fishing.</span>—</td> - <td>⎧</td> - <td><a href="#note17">Crew of the Essex frigate.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>⎩</td> - <td><a href="#note18">Mutiny on board the Essex.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">”</span> ”</td> - <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Long Island Sound.</span>—<a href="#note19">New-England Traditions.</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span></p> - -<h3>APPENDIX.</h3> - -</div> - -<p id="note1"><i>Note to the Resurrectionists.</i>—<span class="smcap">Ghost in the Grave -Yard.</span>—In New-England, most of the burying-grounds as -they are called, are at some distance from the villages, and -generally neglected and rude in their appearance, frequently -overgrown with wild, dank weeds, and surrounded by rough -stone walls.—Dr. W., a physician, whose extensive practice -gave him a large circuit of country to ride over, relates that -returning late one night from visiting a patient who was -dangerously ill, his attention was attracted by a human figure -clad in white, perched upon the top of the stone wall of one -of these rustic cemeteries.—The moon was shining cold and -clear, and he drew up his horse for a moment, and gazed -steadily at the object, supposing that he was labouring under -an optical illusion, but it remained immoveable and he was -convinced, however singular the position and the hour, that -his eyesight had not deceived him. Being a man of strong -nerves, he determined to examine it, whether human or supernatural, -more closely, and leaping his horse up the bank of -the road he proceeded along the side of the fence towards the -object. It remained perfectly motionless until he came opposite -and within a few feet, when it vanished from the fence, -and in another instant, with a piercing shriek, was clinging -round his neck upon the horse.—This was too much, for -even the Doctor’s philosophy, and relieving himself with a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span> -violent exertion from the grasp, he flung the figure from him, -and putting spurs to his horse galloped into the village at -full speed, a torrent of ghostly lore and diablerie pouring -through his mind as he dashed along. Arousing the occupants -of the nearest house, they returned to the scene of the -adventure, where they found the object of his terror,—a poor -female maniac who had escaped from confinement in a neighbouring -alms-house, wandering among the tombs.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note2"><i>Note to Old Kennedy, No. I.</i>—<span class="smcap">Capt. Somers.</span><a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>—The -name of Somers, the twin brother in arms of Decatur, shines -brightly on the History of American Naval Warfare; and the -last desperate action which terminated his short and brilliant -career with his life, is stamped in colours so indelible, that nothing -but the destroying finger of Time can efface it from -its pages. After severe and continued fighting before Tripoli, -the Turkish flotilla withdrew within the mole, and could -not be induced to venture themselves beyond the guns of the -Tripolitan Battery. The ketch Intrepid was fitted out as a -fire-ship, filled to the decks with barrels of gunpowder, shells, -pitch, and other combustible materials; and Capt. Somers, -with a volunteer crew, undertook the hazardous, almost desperate, -task, of navigating her, in the darkness of night, into -the middle of the Turkish flotilla, when the train was to be -fired, and they were to make their escape, as they best could -in her boats.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span></p> - -<p>Lieutenants Wadsworth and Israel were the only officers -allowed to join expedition, which was comprised of a small -crew of picked men. The Intrepid was escorted as far as -was prudent by three vessels of the squadron, who hove to, to -avoid suspicion, and to be ready to pick up the boats upon -their return: the Constitution, under easy sail in the offing.</p> - -<p>Many a brave heart could almost hear its own pulsations -in those vessels, as she became more and more indistinct, and -gradually disappeared in the distance. They watched for -some time with intense anxiety, when a heavy cannonade -was opened from the Turkish batteries, which, by its flashes, -discovered the ketch determinedly progressing on her deadly -errand. She was slowly and surely making for the entrance -of the mole, when the whole atmosphere suddenly blazed as -if into open day; the mast with all its sails shot high up -in the air; shells whizzed, rocket like, exploding in every -direction; a deafening roar followed and all sunk again into -the deepest pitchy darkness. The Americans waited—waited—in -anxious—at last sickening suspense. Their companions -came not—the hours rolled on—no boat hailed—no oar -splashed in the surrounding darkness. The East grew grey -with the dawn—the sun shone brightly above the horizon, -nought but a few shattered vessels lying near the shore—the -flotilla—the batteries—and the minarets of Tripoli, gilded -by the morning sunbeams, met their gaze. Those noble -spirits had written their history. Whether consigned to -eternity by a shot of the enemy, prematurely exploding the -magazine, or from the firing of the train by their own hands, -must always remain untold and unknown.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> The U. S. Brig Somers, in which the late daring mutiny was -suppressed by the prompt and decided measures of Lt. Alexander -Slidell McKenzie, was named after this hero of the Tripolitan war.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span></p> - -<p id="note3"><i>Note to Old Kennedy. No. III.</i>—“<span class="smcap">The Parting Blessing.</span>”—An -officer of the Lawrence engaged in this desperate -action informed the writer, that he observed, in the latter -part of the battle, the captain of one of the guns, who was a -perfect sailor, and remarkable for his neatness and fine personal -appearance, ineffectually endeavouring to work his gun -himself, after all its crew had fallen. He was badly wounded -by a grape shot in the leg; and although in that situation, he -was supporting himself on the other, while he struggled at -the tackle to bring the piece to bear. The officer told him -that he had better leave the gun, and join one of the others, -or, as he was badly wounded, go below. “No—no, sir,”—said -the brave tar,—“I’ve loaded her, and if I’ve got to go -below, it shan’t be before <i>I give ’em a parting blessing</i>!” -The officer then himself assisted him in running the gun -out of the port. The sailor, taking a good and deliberate -aim, discharged her into the British ship, and then dragged -himself down to the cockpit, fully satisfied with the parting -compliment that he had paid the enemy. General Jackson, -during his administration, granted the man a pension.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note4"><i>Note to Old Kennedy. No. IV.</i>—<span class="smcap">Explosion at Craney -Island.</span>—One of the oldest of the surgeons now in the navy, -who was present when the British were defeated in their -attempt to cut out the Constellation at Craney’s Island, in -Hampton Roads, in the last war, relates the following -anecdote.</p> - -<p>The fire of the Americans was so heavy, that the British -flotilla was soon obliged to retire, a number of their boats -having been disabled by the cannon shot—one, in particular, -having been cut in two, sunk, leaving the men struggling in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span> -the water for their lives. It was thought that it contained an -officer of rank, as the other boats hurried to her assistance, -and evinced much agitation until the individual alluded to -was saved. But to let the doctor tell his own story:—</p> - -<p>“Well, they retreated, and we made prisoners of those -whose boats having been cut up, were struggling in the water. -Among others, there was a fine looking fellow, a petty -officer, who had been wounded by the same shot that had -sunk the boat; so I got him up to the hospital-tent, and cut -off his leg above the knee, and having made him comfortable, -(!) walked out upon the beach, with my assistant for a -stroll. We had not gone far, when we were both thrown -upon our backs by a violent shock which momentarily stunned -us. On recovering ourselves, we observed the air filled -with cotton descending like feathers. We did not know how -to account for the phenomenon, till, advancing some distance -farther, we found a soldier lying apparently dead, with his -musket by his side. I stooped down, and found that the man -was wounded in the head, a splinter having lodged just over -the temple. As I drew out the splinter, he raised himself, -and stared stupidly about him. I asked him what he was -doing there?—“I’m standing ground over the tent, sir,” he -replied. What tent?—“Why sir, the tent that had the gunpowder -in it.” How came it to blow up—what set it on -fire?—“I don’t know, sir.” Did nobody come along this -way?—“Yes, sir; a man came along with a cigar in his -mouth, and asked if he might go in out of the sun; I told -him, yes!—and he went in, and sat himself down—and that -is the last that I recollect, until I found you standing over -me here.” Upon going a few hundred feet farther, we found -a part, and still farther on, the remainder of the body of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span> -unfortunate man, who ignorantly had been the cause of the -explosion, as well as his own death. He was so completely -blackened and burnt that it would have been impossible, from -his colour, to have distinguished him from a negro.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note5"><i>Note to Hudson River.</i>—<span class="smcap">Military Academy at West-Point.</span>—West-Point, -with her majestic scenery—her savage -mountains—the river winding at their feet—her military ruins -rising among the forest-trees—her fine architectural edifices—her -flag proudly floating from its staff against the back-ground -of pure blue ether—her bright and elastic youth, in -all “the pomp and circumstance of war”—now marching -on the broad and verdant plain, in glittering battalion—now -as cavalry, spurring their snorting horses in close squadron—now -with light artillery hidden in the smoke of their rapid -evolutions—now calculating amid the bray of mortars, the -curving course of bombs—measuring the ricochetting shot -bounding from the howitzers—amid the roar of heavy -cannon, watching the balls as they shiver the distant targets.—West-Point, -enveloped in its spicy mountain breezes—West-Point—its -romantic walks—its melodious birds, -warbling in ecstacy among its trees—its heroic monuments—its -revolutionary relics—its associations, past and present—is, -to the tourist, poetry—but to the cadet—sober, sober -prose. Incessant study—severe drilling—arduous examinations—alike -amid the sultry heats of summer, and intense -cold of winter, mark the four years of his stay, with a continual -round of labour and application:—application so severe -that health frequently gives way under the trial. None but -the most robust and hardy in constitution, can sustain the -fatigue and labour. But few, nursed in the lap of wealth, are -willing to undergo its hardships; yet, though the far greater<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span> -part of the number are from what are called the hardy, certainly -not the opulent part of the community; under the cry of aristocracy, -the Academy is made a standing mark for the attacks of -the radicals in the Federal and State legislatures. Of all -the places of public instruction in the country—in a national -point of view—it is the most important; for while it furnishes -to the army a corps of officers acknowledgedly unsurpassed -in military and scientific attainments by that of any service -in Europe—officers, whose names are synonymous with -modesty and honour, it is of incalculable importance in furnishing -to the country, commanders and instructors for the -militia in time of war, and engineers for the constant plans -of public improvement in peace. West-Point proudly boasts -that not one of her sons has ever disgraced himself, or his -country, in the face of the enemy. She can, with equal pride, -point to almost every work of importance in the country, and -say, “There too, is their handywork.” While the noble -works of defence on the frontiers and sea-board bear testimony -to the talent and science of Totten, Thayer, and other gentlemen -of the corps of engineers, the railroads, aqueducts -and canals of the States bear equal witness to the energies -of Douglass, McNeill, Whistler, and other officers, who have -entered the walks of private life.</p> - -<p>Well would it be in this disorganizing age, if, instead of -prostrating this, every State had within her borders a similar -institution as a nucleus of order, discipline, and obedience. -The following extract of a letter from an officer who stands -high in the service, may not be uninteresting to the reader.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right">February 16, 1843.</p> - -<p>“I send you herewith a part of the information which you -required in your last letter. The Military Academy is a -great honour to the country, and is so understood abroad. I -have frequently heard foreign officers express their opinion, -that it was equal to any institution in Europe, and I was particularly -gratified when I was abroad, to find the English officers -so jealous of it. They seemed to understand very -distinctly, that, although the policy of the country prevented -our sustaining a standing army, that we had yet kept up with -the age in military science; and stood ready prepared with -a body of officers, well educated in scientific knowledge, to -supply a large army for efficient and vigorous operations.</p> - -<p>“The whole number of graduates at the Academy since -its foundation, is 1167. Of this number there have died -in service, 168. There have been killed in battle, 24. -Of those wounded in service, there is no record. The -number of those who have died since 1837, is 1 major, 17 -captains, 21 first lieutenants, and 9 second lieutenants.</p> - -<p>“The rank of those killed since 1837, was 1 lieutenant-colonel, -2 captains, 3 first lieutenants, and 2 second lieutenants. -The rank of those killed previous to that time can -only be ascertained by great care in revising the Registers. -The enemies of the Academy have charged, that men have -been educated and resigned without performing service in -the army. This is not so. Besides, the term of service in -the Academy, where they are liable at any time to be called -upon and sent to the extremes of the Union, they are obliged -by law, to serve four years after they have graduated, and in -fact, they seldom do resign, unless they are treated unfairly -by government, and the proportion of resignations of officers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span> -appointed from civil life, is much greater than from those that -have graduated at the Academy. A large number of resignations -took place in 1836, which was attributable to high -salaries offered for civil engineers, and to the general disgust -which pervaded the army, upon the constitution of two -regiments of dragoons, when the appointments were made -almost exclusively from civilians, and officers of long-standing -and arduous service in the army found themselves outranked -by men of no experience, and who had done no service. -You can have no idea of the injustice which was done on that -occasion. The ambition of many of the officers was broken -down, and they retired in disgust.”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note6"><i>Note to Fort Erie.</i>—<span class="smcap">The Dying Soldier.</span>—“On the day -preceding the night attack,” said the Major, “while the -enemy were throwing an incessant discharge of shot and -shells into our works, I observed at a little distance beyond -me a group of people collected on the banquette of the rampart; -I approached and found that one of the militia had -been mortally wounded by a cannot shot, and that, supported -by his comrades, he was dictating with his dying breath his -last words to his family. “Tell them,” said he, “that—that—I -d-i-e-d l-i-k-e a b-r-a-v-e m-a-n—fig-h—fig-h-t—” -and here his breath failed him, and he sunk nearly away—but -rousing himself again with a desperate exertion—”b-r-a-v-e -m-a-n—fight-in-g for—for—my c-o-u-n-try,”—and he expired -with the words upon his lips.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note7"><i>Night Attack on Fort Erie.</i>—<span class="smcap">The Officer’s Sabre.</span>—The -writer saw in the possession of Major ——, a beautiful -scimitar-shaped sabre, with polished steel scabbard; the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span> -number of the regiment, (119th, he thinks,) embossed on its -blade, which one of the soldiers picked up and brought in -from among the scattered arms and dead bodies in front of -the works on the following morning. The white leathern belt -was cut in two, probably by a grape shot or musket ball, and -saturated with blood. Whether its unfortunate owner was -killed, or wounded only, of course could not be known. It -was a mute and interesting witness of that night’s carnage—and -had undoubtedly belonged to some officer who had been -in Egypt, and had relinquished the straight European sabre, -for this favourite weapon of the Mameluke.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note8"><i>Note to Attack on Fort Erie, and Battle of Lundy’s Lane.</i>—These -two articles elicited the following reply from the -pen of an officer of the U. S. army, who has, alas! since it -was written, fallen before the hand of the grim tyrant, whose -blow never falls but in death. The authenticity of the statement -can be relied upon, as the documents from whence it -was derived, were the papers of Major-General Brown, and -other high officers engaged in the campaign. It is proper to -observe, that in the rambling sketch of a tourist, where a mere -cursory description was all that was aimed at, the apparent -injustice done to that gallant officer and eminently skilful -soldier, Major-General Brown, (who certainly ought to have -been placed more prominently in the foreground,) was entirely -unintentional. The officer alluded to was under the -impression that Colonel Wood’s remains were never recovered, -and that consequently the monument erected to his -memory at West-Point does not rest upon them. Much of -the material of the two articles (eliciting these comments) was -derived from conversations with another highly accomplished<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span> -and now retired officer of the U. S. army; and as they were -published without his knowledge, the writer inserts the following -reply made to the strictures at the time:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>... “Deeming that ‘a local habitation and a name’ may -be affixed to my friend the ‘Major,’ and that he may be considered -responsible for inaccuracies for which others alone -are accountable, I hasten to say, that in the description of the -battle at Lundy’s Lane, (with the exception of some of the -personal anecdotes,) the title is retained merely as a <i>nom de -guerre</i> to carry the reader through the different phases of -the action. The description of the night attack on Fort -Erie, as well as that of the character and personal appearance -of Lieutenant-Colonel Wood, is, however, almost literally -that given at the fireside of my friend. The information -received from the British camp on the following morning, -through a flag, was, as near as could be ascertained, that -Colonel Wood had been bayonetted to death on the ground; -and my impression was that his body had been subsequently -identified and returned. But as your correspondent, apparently -a brother officer, speaks so decidedly, I presume he is -correct. Far more agreeable to me would it have been to -have remained under the delusion, that the bones of that gallant -and accomplished soldier slept under the green plateau -of West Point, than the supposition that even now they may -be restlessly whirling in some dark cavern of the cataracts. -The account of the battle at Lundy’s Lane was compiled -from one of the earlier editions of Brackenridge’s History of -the Late War, (I think the third,) the only written authority -that I had upon the subject, and from conclusions drawn from -rambles and casual conversations on the battle-ground. In -how far a rough sketch, which was all that was aimed at,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span> -has been conveyed from that authority, the reader, as well -as your correspondent, can best determine by referring to the -history alluded to.” The desperate bayonet charge is thus -described in that work, fourth edition, p. 269-270.</p> - -<p>... “The enemy’s artillery occupied a hill which was -the key to the whole position, and it would be in vain to hope -for victory while they were permitted to retain it. Addressing -himself to Colonel Miller, he inquired whether he could -storm the batteries at the head of the twenty-first, while he -would himself support him with the younger regiment, the -twenty-third? To this the wary, but intrepid veteran replied, -in an unaffected phrase, ‘I’ll try, sir;’<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> words which were -afterwards given as the motto of his regiment.</p> - -<p>... “The twenty-third was formed in close column -under its commander, Major McFarland, and the first regiment, -under Colonel Nicholas, was left to keep the infantry -in check. The two regiments moved on to one of the most -perilous charges ever attempted; the whole of the artillery -opened upon them as they advanced, supported by a powerful -line of infantry. The twenty-first advanced steadily to -its purpose; the twenty-third faltered on receiving the deadly -fire of the enemy, but was soon rallied by the personal exertions -of General Ripley. When within a hundred yards of -the summit, they received another dreadful discharge, by -which Major McFarland was killed, and the command devolved -on Major Brooks. To the amazement of the British, -the intrepid Miller firmly advanced, until within a few paces -of their line, when he impetuously charged upon the artillery,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span> -which, after a short but desperate resistance, yielded their -whole battery, and the American line was in a moment formed -in the rear upon the ground previously occupied by the British -infantry. In carrying the larger pieces, the twenty-first -suffered severely; Lieutenant Cilley, after an unexampled -effort, fell wounded by the side of the piece which he took: -there were but few of the officers of this regiment who were -not either killed or wounded.</p> - -<p>“So far as I can recollect, the personal narrative of my -friend was as follows: Miller, quietly surveying the battery, -coolly replied—‘I’ll try, sir;’ then turning to his regiment, -drilled to beautiful precision, said, ‘Attention, twenty-first.’ -He directed them as they rushed up the hill, to deliver their -fire at the port-lights of the artillerymen, and to immediately -carry the guns at the point of the bayonet. In a very short -time they moved on to the charge, delivered their fire as -directed, and after a furious struggle of a few moments over -the cannon, the battery was in their possession. The words -of caution of the officers, ‘Close up—steady, men—steady,’ -I have heard indifferently ascribed to them at this charge, -and at the desperate sortie from Fort Erie. I am thus particular -with regard to the detail of this transaction, not that -I think your correspondent, any more than myself, regards it -as of much moment, but lest my friend should be considered -responsible for words which he did not utter.</p> - -<p>... “To show with what secresy the arrangements -were made for the sortie, it is believed that the enemy was -in utter ignorance of the movement. To confirm him in error, -a succession of trusty spies were sent to him in the character -of deserters up to the close of day of the 16th; and so little -did the army know of what were General Brown’s plans for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span> -that day, that even if an officer had gone over to the enemy, -the information he could have given must have been favourable -to the meditated enterprise, as no one had been consulted -but General Porter, and the engineers Colonels McRae and -Wood.</p> - -<p>“At nine o’clock in the evening of the 16th, the general-in-chief -called his assistant adjutant-general, Major Jones, -and after explaining concisely his object, ordered him to see -the officers whom the General named and direct them to his -tent. The officers General Brown had selected to have the -honour of leading commands on the 17th came; he explained -to them his views and determinations, and enjoyed much -satisfaction at seeing that his confidence had not been misplaced. -They left him to prepare for the duty assigned to -them on the succeeding day. At twelve o’clock the last -agent was sent to the enemy in the character of a deserter, -and aided, by disclosing all he knew, to confirm him in security.</p> - -<p>“The letter, of which the following is an extract, was written -by General Brown to the Department of War early in -the morning of the 25th July, 1814:</p> - -<p>“‘As General Gaines informed me that the Commodore was -in port, and as he did not know when the fleet would sail, or -when the guns and troops that I had been expecting would -even leave Sackett’s Harbour, I have thought it proper to -change my position with a view to other objects.’</p> - -<p>“General Scott, with the first brigade, Towson’s artillery, -all the dragoons and mounted men, was accordingly put in -march towards Queenston. He was particularly instructed -to report if the enemy appeared, and to call for assistance if -that was necessary. Having command of the dragoons, he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span> -would have, it was supposed, the means of intelligence. On -General Scott’s arrival near the Falls, he learned that the -enemy was in force directly in his front, a narrow piece of -woods alone intercepting his view of them. Waiting only to -despatch this information, but not to receive any in return, -the General advanced upon him.</p> - -<p>“Hearing the report of cannon and small arms, General -Brown at once concluded that a battle had commenced between -the advance of his army and the enemy, and without -waiting for information from General Scott, ordered the -second brigade and all the artillery to march as rapidly as -possible to his support, and directed Colonel Gardner to remain -and see this order executed. He then rode with his -aids-de-camp, and Major McRee, with all speed towards the -scene of action. As he approached the Falls, about a mile -from Chippeway, he met Major Jones, who had accompanied -General Scott, bearing a message from him, advising General -Brown that he had met the enemy. From the information -given by Major Jones, it was concluded to order up General -Porter’s command, and Major Jones was sent with this order. -Advancing a little further, General Brown met Major Wood, -of the engineers, who also had accompanied General Scott. -He reported that the conflict between General Scott and the -enemy was close and desperate, and urged that reinforcements -should be hurried forward. The reinforcements were -now marching with all possible rapidity. The Major-General -was accompanied by Major Wood to the field of battle. Upon -his arrival, he found that General Scott had passed the wood, -and engaged the enemy upon the Queenston road and the -ground to the left of it, with the 9th, 11th, and 22d regiments, -and Towson’s artillery. The 25th had been detached<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span> -to the right to be governed by circumstances. Apprehending -these troops to be much exhausted, notwithstanding the -good front they showed, and knowing that they had suffered -severely in the contest, General Brown determined to form -and interpose a new line with the advancing troops, and thus -disengage General Scott, and hold his brigade in reserve. -By this time Captains Biddle and Ritchie’s companies of -artillery had come into action. The head of General Ripley’s -column was nearly up with the right of General Scott’s -line. At this moment the enemy fell back, in consequence, -it was believed, of the arrival of fresh troops, which they -could see and begin to feel. At the moment the enemy -broke, General Scott’s brigade gave a general huzza, that -cheered the whole line. General Ripley was ordered to -pass his line and display his column in front. The movement -was commenced in obedience to the order. Majors -McRee and Wood had rapidly reconnoitered the enemy and -his position. McRee reported that he appeared to have -taken up a new position with his line, and with his artillery, -to have occupied a height which gave him great advantages -it being the key of the whole position. To secure the victory, -it was necessary to carry this height, and seize his -artillery. McRee was ordered by the Major-General to conduct -Ripley’s command on the Queenstown road, with a view -to that object, and prepare the 21st regiment under Colonel -Miller for the duty.</p> - -<p>“The second brigade immediately advanced on the Queenston -road. Gen. Brown, with his aids-de-camp and Major -Wood passing to the left of the second brigade in front of the -first, approached the enemy’s artillery, and observed an extended -line of infantry formed for its support. A detachment<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span> -of the first regiment of infantry, under command of Col. -Nicolas, which arrived that day, and was attached to neither -of the brigades, but had marched to the field of battle in the -rear of the second, was ordered promptly to break off to the -left, and form a line facing the enemy on the height, with a -view of drawing his fire and attracting his attention, while -Col. Miller advanced with the bayonet upon his left flank to -carry his artillery. As the first regiment, led by Major -Wood and commanded by Col. Nicolas, approached its position, -the commanding General rode to Col. Miller, and ordered -him to charge and carry the enemy’s artillery with the -bayonet. He replied in a tone of great promptness and good -humour—‘It shall be done, Sir.’</p> - -<p>“At this moment the first regiment gave way under the fire -of the enemy; but Col. Miller, without regard to this circumstance, -advanced steadily to his object, and carried the height -and the cannon in a style rarely equalled—never excelled. -At this point of time when Col. Miller moved, the 23d regiment -was on his right, a little in the rear. Gen. Ripley led -this regiment: it had some severe fighting, and in a degree -gave way, but was promptly re-formed, and brought upon the -right of the 21st, with which were connected a detachment of -the 17th and 19th.</p> - -<p>“Gen. Ripley being now with his brigade, formed a line, -(the enemy having been driven from his commanding ground) -with the captured cannon, nine pieces in the rear. The first -regiment having been rallied, was brought into line by Lt. -Col. Nicolas on the left of the second brigade; and Gen. -Porter coming up at this time, occupied with his command -the extreme left. Our artillery formed the right between the -21st and 23d regiments. Having given to Col. Miller orders<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span> -to storm the heights and carry the cannon as he advanced, -Gen. Brown moved from his right flank to the rear of his -left. Maj. Wood and Capt. Spencer met him on the Queenston -road; turning down that road, he passed directly in the -rear of the 23rd, as they advanced to the support of Col. Miller. -The shouts of the American soldiers on the heights at -this moment, assured him of Col. Miller’s success, and he -hastened toward the place, designing to turn from the Queenston -road towards the heights up Lundy’s Lane. In the act -of doing so, Maj. Wood and Capt. Spencer, who were about -a horse’s length before him, were near riding upon a body of -the enemy; and nothing prevented them from doing it but an -officer exclaiming before them, “They are the Yankees.” -The exclamation halted the three American officers, and upon -looking down the road they saw a line of British infantry -drawn up in front of the western fence of the road with its -right resting upon Lundy’s Lane.</p> - -<p>“The British officer had, at the moment he gave this alarm, -discovered Maj. Jesup. The Major had, as before observed, -at the commencement of the action, been ordered by Gen. -Scott to take ground to his right.</p> - -<p>“He had succeeded in turning the enemy’s left, had captured -Gen. Riall and several other officers, and sent them to camp, -and then, feeling and searching his way silently towards where -the battle was raging, had brought his regiment, the 25th, -after a little comparative loss, up to the eastern fence at the -Queenston road, a little to the north of Lundy’s Lane. The -moment the British gave Jesup notice of having discovered -him, Jesup ordered his command to fire upon the enemy’s -line. The lines could not have been more then four rods -apart—Jesup behind the south fence, the British in front of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span> -the north. The slaughter was dreadful; the enemy fled -down the Queenston road at the third or fourth fire. As the -firing ceased, the Major-General approached Major Jesup, -advised him that Col. Miller had carried the enemy’s artillery, -and received information of the capture of Gen. Riall.</p> - -<p>“The enemy having rallied his broken forces and received -reinforcements, was now discovered in good order and in great -force. The commanding General, doubting the correctness -of the information, and to ascertain the truth, passed in person -with his suite in front of our line. He could no longer -doubt, as a more extended line than he had yet seen during -the engagement was near, and advancing upon us. Capt. -Spencer, without saying a word, put spurs to his horse, and -rode directly up to the advancing line, then, turning towards -the enemy’s right, inquired in a strong and firm voice, -‘What regiment is that?’ and was as promptly answered, -‘The Royal Scots, Sir.’</p> - -<p>“General Brown and suite then threw themselves behind -our troops without loss of time, and waited the attack. The -enemy advanced slowly and firmly upon us: perfect silence -was observed throughout both armies until the lines approached -to within four to six rods. Our troops had levelled their -pieces and the artillery was prepared,—the order to fire was -given. Most awful was its effect. The lines closed in part -before the enemy was broken. He then retired precipitately, -the American army following him. The field was covered -with the slain, but not an enemy capable of marching was to -be seen. We dressed our men upon the ground we occupied. -Gen. Brown was not disposed to leave it in the dark, knowing -it was the best in the neigbourhood. His intention, then,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> -was to maintain it until day should dawn, and to be governed -by circumstances.</p> - -<p>“Our gallant and accomplished foe did not give us much -time for deliberation. He showed himself within twenty -minutes, apparently undismayed and in good order.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> The twenty-first carried the celebrated ‘<i>I’ll try, Sir</i>,’ inscribed -upon their buttons during the remainder of the war.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<p>Extract of a private letter from the writer of the above -article, dated January 15, 1841.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>... “As to the fate of the gallant and accomplished Wood.—You -supposed a flag from the enemy reported he had been -bayoneted to death on the ground—like enough, but how did -the enemy recognise his body. Gen. Porter thinks he fell -at the close of the action at battery No. 1, but I never heard -that any one saw him fall.—His body never was recovered. -Those of Gibson and Davis, the leaders of the two other columns -in Gen. Porter’s command, were.</p> - -<p>“Soon after the war, McRee, one of the best military engineers -this country ever produced, threw up his commission in -disgust and died of the cholera at St. Louis.</p> - -<p>“From the time I lost sight of Gen. Scott in my narrative -until after the change referred to at the end of the narrative, -Gen. Scott with three of his battalions had been held in reserve. -The commander-in-chief now rode in person to Gen. Scott, -and ordered him to advance. That officer was prepared and expected -the call.—As Scott advanced toward Ripley’s left, Gen. -Brown passed to the left to speak with Gen. Porter and see -the condition and countenance of his militia, who, at that moment, -were thrown into some confusion under a most galling -and deadly fire from the enemy: they were, however, kept -to their duty by the exertions of their gallant chiefs, and -most nobly sustained the conflict. The enemy was repulsed -and again driven out of sight. But a short time, however, had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span> -elapsed, when he was once more distinctly seen, in great -force, advancing upon our main line under the command of -Ripley and Porter. The direction that Scott had given his -column would have enabled him in five minutes, to have -formed a line in the rear of the enemy’s right, and thus have -brought him between two fires. But in a moment most -unexpected, a flank fire from a party of the enemy, concealed -upon our left, falling upon the centre of Scott’s command, -when in open column, blasted our proud expectations. His -column was severed in two; one part passing to the rear, the -other by the right flank of platoons towards the main line. -About this period Gen. Brown received his first wound, a -musket ball passing through his right thigh and <i>carrying -away his watch seal</i>, a few minutes after Capt. Spencer received -his mortal wound....</p> - -<p>“This was the last desperate effort made by the enemy to -regain his position and artillery....</p> - -<p>“Porter’s volunteers were not excelled by the regulars -during this charge. They were soon precipitated by their -heroic commander upon the enemy’s line, which they broke -and dispersed, making many prisoners. The enemy now -seemed to be effectually routed; they disappeared....</p> - -<p>“At the commencement of the action, Col. Jesup was detached -to the left of the enemy, with the discretionary order, -to be governed by circumstances.—The commander of the -British forces had committed a fault by leaving a road unguarded -on his left. Col. Jesup, taking advantage of this, -threw himself promptly into the rear of the enemy, where he -was enabled to operate with brilliant enterprise and the -happiest effect. The capture of Gen. Riall, with a large escort -of officers of rank, was part of the trophies of his intrepidity<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span> -and skill. It is not, we venture to assert, bestowing on -him too much praise to say, that to his achievements, more -than to those of any other individual, is to be attributed the -preservation of the first brigade from utter annihilation.</p> - -<p>“Among the officers captured by Col. Jesup, was Capt. -Loring, one of General Drummond’s aid-de-camps, who had -been despatched from the front line to order up the reserve, -with a view to fall on Scott with the concentrated force of -the whole army and overwhelm him at a single effort. Nor -would it have been possible to prevent this catastrophe, had -the reserve arrived in time; the force with which General -Scott would have been obliged to contend being nearly quadruple -that of his own. By the fortunate capture, however, -of the British aid-de-camp, before the completion of the service -on which he had been ordered, the enemy’s reserve was -not brought into action until the arrival of Gen. Ripley’s -brigade, which prevented the disaster that must otherwise -have ensued, and achieved, in the end, one of the most -honourable victories that ever shed lustre upon the arms of a -nation....”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note9"><i>Note to Lundy’s Lane.</i>—<span class="smcap">Rainbow of the Cataract.</span>—The -afternoon of the action presented one of those delicious -summer scenes in which all nature appears to be breathing in -harmony and beauty.—As General Scott’s brigade came in -view, and halted in the vicinity of the cataracts, the mist rising -from the falls, was thrown in upon the land, arching the -American force with a vivid and gorgeous rainbow, the left -resting on the cataract, and the right lost in the forest. Its -brilliance and beauty was such, that it excited not only the -enthusiasm of the officers, but even the camp followers were -filled with admiration.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span></p> - -<p id="note10"><i>Note to Lundy’s Lane.</i>—<span class="smcap">The day after the battle.</span>—“I -rode to the battle-ground about day-light on the following -morning, without witnessing the presence of a single British -officer or soldier. The dead had not been removed through -the night, and such a scene of carnage I never before -beheld.—Red coats, blue, and grey, promiscuously intermingled, -<i>in many places three deep</i>, and around the hill where -the enemy’s artillery was carried by Colonel Miller, the carcasses -of sixty or seventy horses added to the horror of the -scene.”—<i>Private Letter of an Officer.</i></p> - -<p>The dead were collected and burnt in funeral piles, made -of rails, on the field where they had fallen.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note11"><i>Note to Lundy’s Lane.</i>—<span class="smcap">The two Sergeants.</span>—For -several days after the action, the country people found the -bodies of soldiers who had straggled off into the woods, and -died of their wounds.—At some distance from the field of -battle, and entirely alone, were found the bodies of two sergeants, -American and English, transfixed by each other’s -bayonets, lying across each other, where they had fallen in -deadly duel. It is rare that individual combat takes place -under such circumstances in the absence of spectators to -cheer on the combatants by their approval, and this incident -conveys some idea of the desperation which characterised the -general contest on that night. Yet in this lonely and brief -tragedy, these two men were enacting parts, which to them -were as momentous as the furious conflict of the masses in -the distance.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note12"><i>Note to Lundy’s Lane.</i>—<span class="smcap">Death of Captain Hull.</span>—Captain -Hull, a son of General Hull, whose unfortunate surrender<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span> -at Detroit created so much odium, fell in this battle. -He led his men into the midst of the heaviest fire of the enemy, -and after they were almost if not all destroyed, plunged -sword in hand into the centre of the British column, fighting -with the utmost desperation until he was literally impaled -upon their bayonets.</p> - -<p>In the pocket of this gallant and generous young officer, -was found a letter, avowing his determination to signalize -the name or to fall in the attempt.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note13"><i>Note to Lundy’s Lane.</i>—<span class="smcap">Scott’s Brigade.</span>—Part of -Gen. Scott’s command were dressed in grey—(probably -the fatigue dress)—at the battle of Chippewa. An English -company officer relates, that—“Advancing at the head of -my men, I saw a body of Americans drawn up, dressed in -grey uniform. Supposing them to be militia, I directed my -men to fire, and immediately charge bayonet.—What was -my surprise, to find as the smoke of our fire lifted from the -ground, that instead of flying in consternation from our destructive -discharge, the supposed militia were coming down -upon us at ‘double quick’—at the charge. In two minutes -I stood alone, my men having given way, without waiting to -meet the shock.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note14"><i>Note to Lundy’s Lane.</i>—<span class="smcap">Death of Capt. Spencer.</span>—Capt. -Spencer, aid-de-camp to Maj. Gen. Brown, a son of -the Hon. Ambrose Spencer, was only eighteen years of -age at the time that he closed his brief career. He was -directed by Gen. Brown to carry an order to another part -of the field, and to avoid a more circuitous route, he chivalrously -galloped down, exposed to the heavy fire in the front<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span> -of the line, eliciting the admiration of both armies, but before -he reached the point of his destination, two balls passed -through his body, and he rolled from his saddle.</p> - -<p>The following letter to Gen. Armstrong, Secretary of -War, will show in what estimation he was held by Gen. -Brown:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="center">Copy of a letter from Major Gen. Brown, to Gen. Armstrong, -Secretary of War.</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Head Quarters, Fort Erie</span>, 20th September, 1814.</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Sir</span>—Among the officers lost to this army, in the battle of -Niagara Falls, was my aid-de-camp, Captain Ambrose Spencer, -who being mortally wounded, was obliged to be left in -the hands of the enemy. By flags from the British army, I -was shortly afterwards assured of his convalescence, and an -offer was made me by Lieutenant General Drummond, to -exchange him for his own aid, Captain Loring, then a prisoner -of war with us. However singular this proposition -appeared, as Captain Loring was not wounded, nor had received -the slightest injury, I was willing to comply with it -on Captain Spencer’s account. But as I knew his wounds -were severe, I first sent to ascertain the fact of his being -then living. My messenger, with a flag, was detained, nor -even once permitted to see Captain Spencer, though in his -immediate vicinity.</p> - -<p>“The evidence I wished to acquire failed; but my regard -for Captain Spencer, would not permit me longer to delay, -and I informed General Drummond, that his aid should be -exchanged, even for the <i>body</i> of mine. This offer was, no -doubt, gladly accepted, and the <i>corpse</i> of Captain Spencer -sent to the American shore.”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span></p> - -<p id="note15"><i>Note to <span class="smcap">Montreal</span>.</i>—The custom of emblazoning on the -flags, and other military insignia of the regiments, the actions -in which they have signalized themselves, obtaining in the -British and other European services, is not now allowed in -that of the United States, on the score of its aristocratic -tendency! Although, perhaps, in the instance alluded to, -the stupidity of the individual prevented him from understanding -their meaning; still, to the more intelligent of the -soldiers, they are no doubt a great incentive to uphold the -honour of the regiment.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note16"><i>Note to <span class="smcap">Lake George and Ticonderoga</span>.</i>—This important -position, situated on Lake Champlain near the foot of -the Horicon, (called by the English, Lake George, and by -the French, St. Sacrament,) was first fortified by the French, -and was the point from which they made so many incursions, -in conjunction with the Indians, upon the English settlements. -Lord Abercrombie led an army of nearly 16,000 -men against it in the year 1658; but was defeated with a -loss of 2000 men, and one of his most distinguished officers, -Lord Howe, who fell at the head of one of the advance columns. -In the following year it surrendered to General -Amherst, who led a force of nearly equal number against -it. Its surprise and capture by Ethan Allen at the commencement -of our revolution, is, we presume, familiar to -every American, as also the fact of Burgoyne’s getting -heavy cannon upon the neighbouring mountain which had -heretofore been considered impracticable, and from which -the works were entirely commanded. The necessary withdrawal -of the army by St. Clair, after blowing up the works, -is as related in the text.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span></p> - -<p id="note17"><i>Note to Bass Fishing.</i>—<span class="smcap">Crew of the Essex Frigate.</span>—In -the bloody and heroic defence of the Essex, in which, -out of a crew of two hundred and fifty-five men, one hundred -and fifty-three were killed and wounded! a number -of instances of individual daring and devotion are recorded -of the common sailors. Besides the act of Ripley, which is -mentioned in the text, one man received a cannon ball -through his body, and exclaimed in the agonies of death—“Never -mind, shipmates, I die for free trade and sailor’s -rights.” Another expired inciting his shipmates to “fight -for liberty!”—and another, Benjamin Hazen, having dressed -himself in a clean shirt and jacket, threw himself overboard, -declaring, that “he would never be incarcerated -in an English prison.” An old man-of-war’s-man who -was in her, informed the writer, that her sides were so -decayed by exposure to the climate in which she had been -cruizing, that the dust flew like smoke from every shot that -came through the bulwarks, and that at the close of the action, -when the Essex was lying perfectly helpless, a target -for the two heavy British ships, riddled by every ball from -their long guns, without the ability to return a single shot—he -was near the quarter-deck and heard Commodore Porter -walking up and down with hurried steps, repeatedly strike -his breast and exclaim, in great apparent agony—“My -Heaven!—is there no shot for me!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note18"><i>Note to Bass Fishing.</i>—<span class="smcap">Mutiny on Board the Essex -Frigate.</span>—While the Essex was lying at the Marquesas -Islands, recruiting and refreshing her crew from one of the -long and arduous cruises in the Pacific, Commodore Porter -was informed through a servant of one of the officers, that a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span> -mutiny had been planned, and was on the eve of consummation. -That it was the intention of the mutineers to rise upon -the officers—take possession of the ship—and, after having -remained as long as they found agreeable at the island, to -hoist the black flag and “cruize on their own account.”—Having -satisfied himself of the truth of the information, -Commodore Porter ascended to the quarter-deck, and ordered -all the crew to be summoned aft. Waiting till the last man -had come from below, he informed them that he understood -that a mutiny was on foot, and that he had summoned them -for the purpose of inquiring into its truth.—“Those men -who are in favour of standing by the ship and her officers,” -said the commodore, “will go over to the starboard side—those -who are against them will remain where they are.” -The crew, to a man, moved over to the starboard side. The -ship was still as the grave. Fixing his eyes on them steadily -and sternly for a few moments—the commodore said—“Robert -White—step out.” The man obeyed, standing -pale and agitated—guilt stamped on every lineament of his -countenance—in front of his comrades. The commodore -looked at him a moment—then seizing a cutlass from the -nearest rack, said, in a suppressed voice, but in tones so -deep that they rung like a knell upon the ears of the guilty -among the crew—“Villain!—you are the ringleader of this -mutiny—jump overboard!” The man dropt on his knees, -imploring for mercy—saying that he could not swim. “Then -drown, you scoundrel!” said the commodore, springing towards -him to cut him down—“overboard instantly!”—and -the man jumped over the side of the ship. He then turned -to the trembling crew, and addressed them with much feeling—the -tears standing upon his bronzed cheek as he spoke.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span> -He asked them what he had done, that his ship should be disgraced -by a mutiny. He asked whether he had ever dishonoured -the flag—whether he had ever treated them with other -than kindness—whether they had ever been wanting for any -thing to their comfort, that discipline and the rules of the service -would allow—and which it was in his power to give. At -the close of his address, he said—“Men!—before I came on -deck, I laid a train to the magazine!—and I would have blown -all on board into eternity, before my ship should have been disgraced -by a successful mutiny—I never would have survived -the dishonour of my ship!—go to your duty.” The men -were much affected by the commodore’s address, and immediately -returned to their duty, showing every sign of contrition. -They were a good crew, but had been seduced by the -allurements of the islands, and the plausible representations -of a villain. That they did their duty to their flag, it is -only necessary to say—that the same crew fought the ship -afterwards against the Phebe, and Cherub, in the harbour of -Valparaiso, where, though the American flag descended—it -descended in a blaze of glory which will long shine on the -pages of history. But mark the sequel of this mutiny—and -let those who, <i>in the calm security of their firesides</i>, are so -severe upon the course of conduct pursued by officers in such -critical situations, see how much innocent blood would have -been saved, if White had been cut down instantly, or hung at -the yard arm. As he went overboard, he succeeded in reaching -a canoe floating at a little distance and paddled ashore. Some -few months afterwards, when Lieutenant Gamble of the Marines -was at the islands, in charge of one of the large prizes, -short handed and in distress, this same White, at the head of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span> -a party of natives, attacked the ship, killed two of the officers -and a number of the men, and it was with great difficulty -that she was prevented from falling into their hands. -The blood of those innocent men, and the lives of two meritorious -officers would have been spared, if the wretch had -been put to instant death—as was the commodore’s intention. -It will be recollected, that the Essex, in getting under way, -out of the harbour of Valparaiso, carried away her foretop-mast -in a squall, and being thus unmanageable, came to -anchor in the supposed protection of a neutral port—nevertheless -the Phebe, frigate, and Cherub, sloop-of-war, attacked -her in this position—the former with her long guns, selecting -her distance—cutting her up at her leisure—while the Essex, -armed only with carronades, lay perfectly helpless—her -shot falling short of the Phebe, although they reached the -Cherub, which was forced to get out of their range. “I was -standing,” said my informant, then a midshipman only fourteen -years old, “I was standing at the side of one of our bow -chasers, (the only long guns we had,) which we had run aft -out of the stern port—when the Phebe bore up, and ran under -our stern to rake us. As she came within half-pistol -shot (!) she gave us her whole broadside at the same instant.—I -recollect it well!” said the officer—“for as I saw the -flash, I involuntarily closed my eyes—expecting that she would -have blown us out of the water—and she certainly would -have sunk us on the spot, but firing too high, her shot cut -our masts and rigging all to pieces, doing little injury to the -hull. Singular as it may seem, the discharge of our one -gun caused more slaughter than the whole of their broadside, -for while we had but one man wounded, the shot from our -gun killed two of the men at the wheel of the Phebe, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span> -glancing with a deep gouge on the main-mast, mortally -wounded her first Lieutenant, who died on the following day.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p id="note19"><i>Long Island Sound.</i>—<span class="smcap">New England Traditions.</span>—There -are few countries where traditions and legends are -handed down from generation to generation with more fidelity -than in New England, more particularly along the sea-coast -and the shores of the Sound. The “fire ship” is supposed -even now by the old fishermen to be seen cruising occasionally -in the vicinity of Block Island in the furious storms of -thunder and lightning. The tradition is, that she was taken -by pirates—all hands murdered, and abandoned after being -set on fire by the bucaneers. Some accounts state that a large -white horse which was on board, was left near the foremast -to perish in the flames—and in storms of peculiarly terrific -violence that she may be seen, rushing along enveloped in -fire, the horse stamping and pawing at the heel of the foremast, -her phantom crew assembled at quarters. In the early -part of the last century, a ship came ashore a few miles beyond -Newport, on one of the beaches—all sails set—the -table prepared for dinner, but the food untouched, and no -living thing on board of her. It was never ascertained -what had become of her crew—but it was supposed that she -had been abandoned in some moment of alarm, and that they -all perished, although the vessel arrived in safety.</p> - -<p>The phantom horse will recall to mind a real incident, -which occurred not long since in the conflagration of one of -the large steamboats on Lake Erie. A fine race horse was -on board, and secured, as is usual, forward. Of course his -safety was not looked to, while all were making vain efforts -to save themselves from their horrible fate. As the flames<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span> -came near him he succeeded in tearing himself loose from -his fastenings, rushing franticly through the fire and smoke -fore and aft, trampling down the unfortunate victims that -were in his way, adding still more horror to a scene which -imagination can hardly realize, until frenzied with the pain -and agony of the fire, he plunged overboard and perished.</p> - -<p>But the favourite and most cherished traditions are those -relating to hidden treasure. The writer well recollects one -to which his attention was attracted in his childhood. Mr. -——, inhabiting one of those fine old mansions in Newport, -which had been built fifty years before, by an English gentleman -of fortune, where taste and caprice had been indulged -to the extreme, and where closets, and beaufets, and cellars, -and pantries, appeared to meet one at every turn, was engaged -late one winter’s night writing in his study, when he -found it necessary to replenish his fire with fuel. The servants -having retired, he took a candle and went himself to the -cellar to procure it, and as he passed the vault called the “wine -cellar,” his attention was attracted by a light streaming through -the key-hole of the door. He stopped a moment and called out -supposing that some of the family were in the apartment—but -instantly the light vanished. He stepped up to the door -and endeavoured to open it, but found to his surprise that it -was fastened,—a thing that was unusual as the door constantly -stood ajar. Calling out again, “who’s there?” without receiving -any answer, he placed his foot against the door, and -forced it open, when a sight met his eyes, which for a moment -chained him to the spot. In the centre of the cellar -in a deep grave which had been already dug, and leaning -upon his spade, was a brawny negro, his shirt sleeves rolled -up to his shoulders, and the sweat trickling down his glistening<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span> -black visage, while on the pile of earth made from the -excavation, stood another negro, a drawn sword in one hand, -a lantern with the light just extinguished in the other, and -an open bible with two hazle rods across it, lying at his feet—these -swart labourers the moment that the door was thrown -open, making the most earnest signs for silence. As soon as -Mr. —— could command his voice, he demanded the -meaning of what he saw and what they were about. They -both simultaneously then declared that the charm was broken -by his voice. One of the worthies, who was the groom of -the family, had dreamed five nights in succession, that old -Mr. E—— the builder of the house, had buried a bootful (!) -of gold in that cellar—and on comparing notes with his -brother dreamer, he found that his visions also pointed to -treasure in the old house, and they had proceeded secundem -artem to its attainment, both vehemently declaring that they -intended to give part of the treasure to Mr. ——. Of -course, the door being opened, the strange negro was required -to add the darkness of his visage to that of night, while the -groom was on pain of instant dismission, together with the -threat of the ridicule of the whole town, directed to fill up -the grave, and thereafter to let the buried treasure sleep -where its owner had seen fit to deposit it.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="center larger">NEW WORKS,<br /> -<span class="smaller">AND</span><br /> -<b>New Editions of Established Books,</b><br /> -<span class="smaller">PUBLISHED BY</span><br /> -<i>D. APPLETON & CO.</i><br /> -<b>NEW-YORK.</b></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="book">BURNET’S HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The History of the Reformation of the Church of England, by -Gilbert Burnet, D.D., late Lord Bishop of Salisbury—with the -Collection of Records and a copious Index, revised and corrected, -with additional Notes and a Preface, by the Rev. E. -Nares, D.D., late Professor of Modern History in the University -of Oxford. Illustrated with a Frontispiece and twenty-three -engraved Portraits, forming four elegant 8vo. vols. $8 00.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>The established character of Bishop Burnet’s History of the Reformation as a standard work, -and most valuable historical authority, render it unnecessary to enter into any analysis of its -merits, further than briefly to state the advantages of this edition over all others.</p> - -<p>Often as this celebrated History of the Reformation of the Church of England has been printed -and published, often as it has been read, and continually as it has been referred to by successive -writers, interested in the important subject of which it treats; yet one thing seems to have been -constantly overlooked, namely, the necessity of a distinct Preface to point out, and to explain to -readers in general, the particular character of the publication.</p> - -<p>It is a work of too great magnitude to be repeatedly read through, and though its eminence as an -historical work, must always be such as to render it imperatively necessary for certain writers to -consult its pages, yet in every reprint of it, it should be contemplated by the publisher not merely -as a book of reference, but as one to be read like other books of history regularly from the beginning -to the end, not by professed scholars only, or by persons already versed in history, civil or ecclesiastical, -but by such as may be only beginning their historical inquiries and researches—young -readers and mere students.</p> - -<p>Scarcely any other book of equal importance, perhaps, stands so much in need of preliminary explanations -as this great work of the celebrated writer whose name it bears. And it most often, we -should think, have been a matter of just surprise to the readers of this history, that, in the editions -hitherto published, the errors in the first and second volumes have been reprinted, which the author -himself noticed at the end of the third volume. In the present edition the text will be found corrected -as it should be, and many explanatory notes added throughout the work.</p> - -</div> - -<p>“The extract above from the editor’s preface defines the peculiar merits -of this splendid work, which is at once the cheapest and the most elegant -edition which we have ever seen, of this well known and invaluable history. -We were fed on the old folio edition of Burnet in the days of our -childhood, and the impressions which its facts and its <i>illustrations</i> then -made on the mind, have never been effaced, but have had their full share -in making us thoroughly Protestant, and aggressive enemies of the church -of Rome. We are therefore most heartily rejoiced to see that Appleton -& Co. have issued this standard work in four elegant volumes, at only -two dollars a volume; and when we look at its numerous and fine engravings -of many distinguished reformers, and its more than two thousand -pages of reading matter on handsome paper in elegant type, we cannot -doubt that thousands of our readers will wish to introduce it into their -families without delay.”<i>—N. Y. Observer.</i></p> - -<p class="book">GUIZOT’S HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION.</p> - -<p class="hanging">General History of Civilization in Europe, from the Fall of the Roman -Empire to the French Revolution. Translated from the French of M. -Guizot, Professor of History to la Faculté des Lettres of Paris, and -Minister of Public Instruction. Third American edition, with Explanatory -Notes, (adapted for the use of Colleges and High Schools,) by C. S. -Henry, D.D., Professor of Philosophy and History in the University of -the city of New-York. One handsomely printed vol., 12mo. $1 00.</p> - -<p class="book">CARLYLE ON HISTORY AND HEROES.</p> - -<p class="hanging">On Heroes, Hero-Worship, and the Heroic in History. Six Lectures, reported -with Emendations and Additions. By Thomas Carlyle, Author -of the French Revolution, Sartor Resartus, &c. Elegantly printed in -one vol 12mo. Second edition. $1 00.</p> - -<p class="book">THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SOCIETY<br /> -<span class="smaller">IN THE BARBAROUS AND CIVILIZED STATE.</span></p> - -<p class="hanging">An Essay towards Discovering the Origin and Course of Human Improvement. -By W. Cooke Taylor, LL.D., &c., of Trinity College, Dublin. -Handsomely printed on fine paper. 2 vols. 12mo. $2 25.</p> - -<p class="book">THE LIFE OF ALEXANDER HAMILTON.</p> - -<p class="center">Edited by his son, John C. Hamilton. 2 vols. 8vo. $5 00.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“We cordially recommend the perusal and diligent study of these volumes, exhibiting as they -do, much valuable matter relative to the Revolution, the establishment of the Federal Constitution, -and other important events in the annals of our country.”—<i>New-York Review.</i></p> - -<p class="book">MRS. AUSTIN’S GERMAN WRITERS.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Fragments from German Prose Writers, translated by Mrs. Austin. Illustrated -with Bibliographical and Critical Notes. 1 vol. 12mo. Elegantly -printed on fine white paper. $1 25.</p> - -<p class="book">A DICTIONARY<br /> -<span class="smaller">OF ARTS, MANUFACTURES, AND MINES;</span></p> - -<p class="hanging">Containing a clear Exposition of their Principles and Practice. By Andrew -Ure, M.D., F.R.S., &c. &c. Illustrated with 1241 Engravings, and containing -upwards of 1400 closely printed pages. $5 00.</p> - -<p class="smaller">In every point of view a work like the present can but be regarded as a benefit done to theoretical -science, to commerce and industry, and an important addition to a species of literature the exclusive -production of the present century, and the present state of peace and civilization. -Criticisms in favour of its intrinsic value to all classes of the community might be -produced (if space would permit,) from upwards of three hundred of the leading journals in -Europe and this country.</p> - -<p class="book">COWPER’S COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Complete Poetical Works of Wm. Cowper, Esq., including the Hymns and -Translations from Mad. Guion, Milton, &c., and Adam, a Sacred Drama, from -the Italian of Battista Andreini, with a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. -Henry Stebbing, A.M. Two elegantly printed volumes, 400 pages each, -16mo. with beautiful frontispieces. $1 75.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>This is the only complete American edition of the true Christian Poet.</i></p> - -<p class="book">BURNS’ COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The complete Poetical Works of Robert Burns with Explanatory and Glossarial -Notes, and a Life of the Author, by James Currie, M.D., uniform in style -with Cowper. $1 25.</p> - -<p class="smaller">This is the most complete edition which has been published, and contains the whole of the -poetry comprised in the edition lately edited by Cunningham, as well as some additional -pieces; and such notes have been added as are calculated to illustrate the manners and -customs of Scotland, so as to render the whole more intelligible to the English reader.</p> - -<p class="book">MILTON’S COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Complete Poetical Works of John Milton, with Explanatory Notes and -a Life of the Author, by the Rev. Henry Stebbing, AM. Beautifully illustrated—uniform -in style with Cowper, Burns, and Scott. $1 25.</p> - -<p class="center">The Latin and Italian Poems are included in this edition.</p> - -<p class="smaller">Mr. Stebbing’s notes will be found very useful in elucidating the learned allusions with -which the text abounds, and they are also valuable for the correct appreciation with which -the writer directs attention to the beauties of the Author.</p> - -<p class="book">SCOTT’S POETICAL WORKS.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Bart.—Containing Lay of the Last -Minstrel, Marmion, Lady of the Lake, Don Roderick, Rokeby, Ballads, -Lyrics, and Songs, with a Life of the Author, uniform with Cowper, Burns, -&c. $1 25.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“Walter Scott is the most popular of all the poets of the present day and deservedly so. -He describes that which is most easily and generally understood with more vivacity and effect -than any other writer. His style is clear, flowing and transparent; his sentiments, of which -his style is an easy and natural medium, are common to him with his readers.”</p> - -<p class="book">SOUTHEY’S POETICAL WORKS.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey, Esq., LL.D. The ten volume -London edition in one elegant royal 8vo. volume, with a fine portrait and -vignette. $3 50.</p> - -<p class="smaller">☞ This edition, which the author has arranged and revised with the same care as if it -were intended for posthumous publication, includes many pieces which either have never -before been collected, or have hitherto remained unpublished.</p> - -<p class="smaller">Preliminary notices are affixed to the long poems,—the whole of the notes retained,—and -such additional ones incorporated as the author, since the first publication, has seen occasion -to insert.</p> - -<p class="center smaller"><i>Contents.</i></p> - -<ul class="smaller"> -<li><i>Joan of Arc.</i></li> -<li><i>Juvenile and Minor Poems.</i></li> -<li><i>Thalaba the Destroyer.</i></li> -<li><i>Madoc.</i></li> -<li><i>Ballads and Metrical Tales.</i></li> -<li><i>The Curse of Kehama.</i></li> -<li><i>Roderick the last of the Goths.</i></li> -<li><i>The Poet’s Pilgrimage to Waterloo.</i></li> -<li><i>Lay of the Laureate.</i></li> -<li><i>Vision of Judgment, &c.</i></li> -</ul> - -<p class="smaller">“At the age of sixty-three I have undertaken to collect and edit my poetical works, with the last -corrections that I can expect to bestow upon them. They have obtained a reputation equal to my -wishes.... Thus to collect and revise them is a duty which I owe to that part of the public by -whom they have been auspiciously received, and to those who will take a lively concern in my good -name when I shall have departed.”—<i>Extract from Author’s Preface.</i></p> - -<p class="book">THE BOOK OF THE NAVY;</p> - -<p class="hanging">Comprising a general History of the American Marine, and particular accounts -of all the most celebrated Naval Battles, from the Declaration of -Independence to the present time, compiled from the best authorities. -By John Frost, Professor of Belles Lettres in the High School of Philadelphia. -With an Appendix, containing Naval Songs, Anecdotes, &c. -Embellished with numerous original Engravings and Portraits of distinguished -Naval Commanders. Complete in one handsome volume octavo. -$1 50.</p> - -<p class="book">PICTORIAL LIFE OF NAPOLEON.</p> - -<p class="hanging">History of Napoleon Bonaparte, translated from the French of M. Laurent -de L’Ardeche, with five hundred spirited illustrations, after designs by -Horace Vernet, and twenty original portraits engraved in the best style. -Complete in two handsome volumes, octavo, about 500 pages each. $4 00.</p> - -<p class="book">PICTORIAL ROBINSON CRUSOE.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. By Daniel De Foe. With -a Memoir of the Author, and an Essay on his Writings, illustrated with -nearly 500 spirited Engravings, by the celebrated French artist Grandville, -forming one elegant volume, octavo, of 500 pages. $1 75.</p> - -<p class="book">PICTORIAL VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Vicar of Wakefield. By Oliver Goldsmith. Elegantly illustrated -with 200 hundred Engravings, making a beautiful volume, octavo, of -350 pages. $1 25.</p> - -<p class="book">THE AMERICAN IN EGYPT;<br /> -<span class="smaller">WITH RAMBLES THROUGH<br /> -Arabia-Petræa and the Holy Land, during the years 1839-40</span>.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By James Ewing Cooley. Illustrated with numerous Steel Engravings, -also Etchings and Designs by Johnston,—one handsome volume octavo, -of 610 pages.</p> - -<p class="smaller">No other volume extant can give the reader so true a picture of what he would be likely to -see and meet in Egypt. No other book is more practical and plain in its picture of precisely -what the traveller himself will meet. Other writers have one account to give of their journey -on paper, and another to relate in conversation. Mr. Cooley has but one story for the fireside -circle and the printed page.—<i>Brother Jonathan.</i></p> - -<p class="book">THE DAUGHTERS OF ENGLAND:</p> - -<p class="hanging">Their Position in Society, Character, and Responsibilities. By Mrs. Ellis, -author of “The Women of England.” Complete in one handsome volume -12mo. 75 cents.</p> - -<p class="book">GEMS FROM TRAVELLERS.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Illustrative of various passages in the Holy Scriptures, with nearly 100 -Engravings. Among the authorities quoted will be found the following -distinguished names: Haimer, Laborde, Lane, Madden, Clarke, Pocoke, -Chandler Malcom, Hartley, Russel, Jowitt, Carne, Shaw, Morier, Neibuhr, -Bruce, Calmet, H. Belzoni, Lord Lindsay, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. -$1 00.</p> - -<p class="book">SPIRITUAL CHRISTIANITY.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Lectures on Spiritual Christianity. By Isaac Taylor, author of “Spiritual -Despotism,” &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. $0 75.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_1"></a>[1]</span></p> - -<p class="center larger">NEW WORKS & NEW EDITIONS.</p> - -<p>The undersigned have the pleasure of presenting to you a copy of -their Catalogue of important Publications in the several departments -of Literature. They would particularly direct your attention to that -admirable series of devotional works by <span class="smcap">Bishop Patrick</span>, <span class="smcap">Bishop -Wilson</span>, <span class="smcap">Doctor Sutton</span> and others, which have received the unqualified -commendation of the Church. In a letter received from -<span class="smcap">Bishop Whittingham</span>, he says, “I had forgotten to express my -<i>very great satisfaction</i> at your commencement of a series of devotional -works, lately re-published in Oxford and London.” Again, -<span class="smcap">Bishop Doane</span> says of this, “I write to express my thanks to you for -reprints of the Oxford books; first, for reprinting such books, and secondly, -in such a style I sincerely hope you may be encouraged to -go on, and give them all to us. You will dignify the art of printing, -and you will do great service to the best interests of the country.” -The undersigned also beg to refer to their beautiful edition -of the Poetical Works of <span class="smcap">Southey</span>, also to that excellent series of -“Tales for the People and their Children,” by <span class="smcap">Mary Howitt</span> and -others, and to that extensive series of popular works for general -reading, uniting an interesting style with soundness of Christian -principle, such as the works of <span class="smcap">Archbishop Magee</span>, <span class="smcap">Guizot</span>, -<span class="smcap">John Angell James</span>, <span class="smcap">Miss Sinclair</span>, <span class="smcap">Rev. Robert Philip</span>, -<span class="smcap">Rev. Augustus Wm. Hare</span>, <span class="smcap">Jno. Pye Smith</span>, <span class="smcap">Frederick -Augustus Schlegel</span>, <span class="smcap">Isaac Taylor</span>, <span class="smcap">Dr. W. C. Taylor</span>, <span class="smcap">Rev. -Dr. Sprague</span>, &c. &c. They also publish those very popular -Voyages and Travels by <span class="smcap">Rev. H. Southgate</span>, of the Episcopal -Mission, and <span class="smcap">Fitch W. Taylor</span>, together with the Memoirs of -<span class="smcap">General Alexander Hamilton</span> by his son; and will continue -to publish standard and popular works, and trust to merit a continuance -of public favour.</p> - -<p class="right">D. APPLETON & Co.</p> - -<p class="hanging"><i>Emporium for Standard Literature</i>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">200 Broadway, New-York</span>.</p> - -<p>☞ D. A. & Co.’s Catalogue of English Books (critical and -explanatory) will shortly be ready for delivery.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_2"></a>[2]</span></p> - -<p class="book">SCHLEGEL’S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY,</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Philosophy of History, in a course of Lectures delivered at -Vienna, by <span class="smcap">Frederick Von Schlegel</span>, translated from the German, -with a Memoir of the author, by <span class="smcap">J. B. Robertson</span>. Handsomely -printed on fine paper. 2 vols. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“To do a mere reviewer’s justice to such a work would require many numbers -of our journal. It is quite unnecessary to do more than direct attention to a -production which, beyond all others, has contributed to exalt and purify modern -science and literature—a work to which, in the eloquent words of a great man, -‘we owe the attempts at least to turn philosophy’s eye inward on the soul, and to -compound the most sacred elements of its spiritual powers with the ingredients -of human knowledge.’”—<i>Literary Gazette.</i></p> - -<p class="book">THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SOCIETY,<br /> -<span class="smaller">IN THE BARBAROUS AND CIVILISED STATE.</span></p> - -<p class="hanging">An Essay towards discovering the Origin and Course of Human -Improvement. By <span class="smcap">W. Cooke Taylor</span>, LL.D., &c., of Trinity -College, Dublin. Handsomely printed on fine paper. 2 vols. -12 mo.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“A most able work, the design of which is to determine from an examination -of the various forms in which society has been formed, what was the origin of -civilization, and under what circumstances those attributes of humanity, which in -one country become the foundation of social happiness, and in another perverted -to the production of general misery. For this purpose the author has separately -examined the principal elements by which society, under all its aspects, is held -together, and traced each to its source in human nature. He has then directed -attention to the development of these principles, and pointed out the circumstances -by which they were perfected on the one hand, or corrupted on the -other.”</p> - -<p class="smaller">“We perceive by the preface that the work has had throughout, the superintendence -of the very learned Archbishop Whately.”—<i>New-York American.</i></p> - -<p class="book">CARLYLE ON HISTORY AND HEROES.</p> - -<p class="book">HERO, HERO-WORSHIP, AND THE HEROIC IN HISTORY.</p> - -<p class="center smaller">Six Lectures, reported with, emendations and additions.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Thomas Carlyle</span>, author of the “French Revolution,” “Sartor -Resartus,” &c.</p> - -<p class="smaller">Contents—The Hero as Divinity, Odin, Paganism, Scandinavian Mythology, -The Hero as Prophet, Mahomet, Islam; The Hero as Poet, Dante, Shakspeare; -The Hero as Priest, Luther, Reformation, Knox, Puritanism; The Hero as Man -of Letters, Johnson, Rousseau, Burns; The Hero as King, Cromwell, Napoleon, -Modern Revolutionism.</p> - -<p class="smaller">1 vol. 12mo., beautifully printed on fine white paper.</p> - -<p class="book">THOUGHTS IN PAST YEARS:</p> - -<p class="hanging">A beautiful collection of Poetry, chiefly Devotional. By the Author -of the Cathedral. 1 vol. royal 16mo. elegantly printed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_3"></a>[3]</span></p> - -<p class="book">MEDITATIONS ON THE SACRAMENT.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Godly Meditations upon the most Holy Sacrament of the Lord’s -Supper. By <span class="smcap">Christopher Sutton</span>, DD., late Prebend of Westminster. -1 vol. royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented.</p> - -<p class="book">LEARN TO DIE.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Disce Mori, Learn to Die, a Religious Discourse, moving every -Christian man to enter into a serious remembrance of his end. -By <span class="smcap">Christopher Sutton</span>, DD., sometime Prebend of Westminster. -1 vol. 16mo, elegantly ornamented.</p> - -<p class="book">SACRA PRIVATA:<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE<br /> -Private Meditations, Devotions and Prayers</span></p> - -<p class="hanging">Of the Right Rev. T. Wilson, D.D., Lord Bishop of Soder and -Man. First complete edition. 1 vol. royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented. -First complete edition.</p> - -<p class="book">A Discourse Concerning Prayer</p> - -<p class="hanging">And the Frequenting Daily Public Prayers. By <span class="smcap">Simon Patrick</span>, -D.D., sometime Lord Bishop of Ely. Edited by <span class="smcap">Francis E. -Paget</span>, M.A., Chaplain to the Lord Bishop of Oxford. 1 vol. -royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented.</p> - -<p class="book">HEART’S EASE:<br /> -<span class="smaller">Or a Remedy against all Troubles;<br /> -WITH A</span><br /> -Consolatory Discourse,</p> - -<p class="hanging">Particularly addressed to those who have lost their friends and dear -relations. By <span class="smcap">Simon Patrick</span>, DD., sometime Lord Bishop of -Ely. 1 vol. royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented.</p> - -<p class="book">SCRIPTURE and GEOLOGY.</p> - -<p class="hanging">On the Relation between the Holy Scriptures and some parts -of Geological Science. By <span class="smcap">John Pye Smith</span>, DD., author of -the Scripture Testimony of the Messiah, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_4"></a>[4]</span></p> - -<p class="book">TOUR THROUGH TURKEY and PERSIA.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Narrative of a Tour through Armenia, Kurdistan, Persia, and Mesopotamia, -with an Introduction and Occasional Observations -upon the Condition of Mohammedanism and Christianity in those -countries. By the <span class="smcap">Rev. Horatio Southgate</span>, Missionary of -the American Episcopal Church. 2 vols. 12mo. plates.</p> - -<p class="book">Magee on Atonement and Sacrifice.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Discourses and Dissertations on the Scriptural Doctrines of Atonement -and Sacrifice, and on the Principal Arguments advanced, -and the Mode of Reasoning employed, by the Opponents of those -Doctrines, as held by the Established Church. By the late Most -Rev. <span class="smcap">William Magee</span>, D. D., Archbishop of Dublin. 2 vols, -royal 8vo., beautifully printed.</p> - -<p class="book">SOUTHEY’S POETICAL WORKS.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The complete collected edition of the Poetical Works of <span class="smcap">Robert -Southey</span>, Esq., LL.D. edited by himself. Printed verbatim -from the ten volume London edition. Illustrated with a fine portrait -and vignette. 1 vol. royal 8vo.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“The beauties of Mr. Southey’s Poetry are such that this collected edition can -hardly fail to find a place in the Library of every person fond of elegant literature.”—<i>Eclectic -Review.</i></p> - -<p class="smaller">“Southey’s principal Poems have been long before the world, extensively read, -and highly appreciated. Their appearing in a uniform edition, with the author’s -final corrections, will afford unfeigned pleasure to those who are married to immortal -verse.”—<i>Literary Gazette.</i></p> - -<p class="smaller">“This edition of the works of Southey is a credit to the press of our country.”—<i>N. -A. Review.</i></p> - -<p class="book">GUIZOT’S HISTORY of CIVILIZATION.</p> - -<p class="hanging">General History of Civilization in Europe, from the Fall of the Roman -Empire to the French Revolution. Translated from the -French of M. GUIZOT, Professor of History to la Faculté des -Lettres of Paris, and Minister of Public Instruction. 2d American, -from the last London edition. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">BICKERSTETH’S COMPLETE WORKS.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Works of the <span class="smcap">Rev. Edward Bickersteth</span>, Rector of Manton, -Hertfordshire, containing Scripture, Help, Treatise on Prayer, -the Christian Hearer, the Chief concerns of Man for Time and -Eternity, Treatise on the Lord’s Supper, and the Christian Student. -1 vol. 8vo.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_5"></a>[5]</span></p> - -<p class="book">THE LIFE OF ALEXANDER HAMILTON.</p> - -<p class="center">Edited by his son, <span class="smcap">John C. Hamilton</span>. 2 vols. royal 8vo.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“We cordially recommend the perusal and diligent study of these volumes, exhibiting, -as they do, much valuable matter relative to the Revolution, the establishment -of the Federal Constitution, and other important events in the annals -of our country.”—<i>New York Review.</i></p> - -<p class="book">SCOTLAND and the SCOTCH;<br /> -<span class="smaller">OR, THE WESTERN CIRCUIT.</span></p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Catherine Sinclair</span>, author of Modern Accomplishments, -Modern Society, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">SHETLAND and the SHETLANDERS;<br /> -<span class="smaller">OR, THE NORTHERN CIRCUIT.</span></p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Catherine Sinclair</span>, author of Scotland and the Scotch, Holiday -House, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">THE METROPOLITAN PULPIT;</p> - -<p class="hanging">Or Sketches of the most Popular Preachers in London. By the -author of Random Recollections, The Great Metropolis, &c. &c. -1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">HARE’S PAROCHIAL SERMONS.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Sermons to a Country Congregation. By <span class="smcap">Augustus William -Hare</span>, A.M., late Fellow of New College and Rector of Alton -Barnes. 1 vol. royal 8vo.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“Any one who can be pleased with delicacy of thought expressed in the most -simple language—any one who can feel the charm of finding practical duties elucidated -and enforced by apt and varied illustrations—will be delighted with this -volume, which presents us with the workings of a pious and highly gifted mind.”—<i>Quarterly -Review.</i></p> - -<p class="book">Williams’s Missionary Enterprises.</p> - -<p class="hanging">A Narrative of Missionary Enterprises and Triumphs in the South -Seas, with Remarks upon the Natural History of the Islands, -Origin, Language, Tradition and Usages of the Inhabitants. By -the <span class="smcap">Rev. John Williams</span>, of the London Missionary Society. -Numerous plates. 1 vol. large 12mo.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_6"></a>[6]</span></p> - -<p class="book">THE FLAG SHIP:<br /> -<span class="smaller">Or, a Voyage Round the World,</span></p> - -<p class="hanging">In the United States Frigate Columbia attended by her consort, the -Sloop of War John Adams, and bearing the broad pennant of -Commodore George C. Read. By Fitch W. Taylor, Chaplain to -the Squadron. 2 vols. 12mo. plates.</p> - -<p class="book">ELLA V ——:<br /> -<span class="smaller">Or the July Tour. By one of the Party. 1 vol. 12mo.</span></p> - -<p class="center smaller">“He can form a moral on a glass of champagne.”—Le Roy.</p> - -<p class="book">Missionary’s Farewell.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By the <span class="smcap">Rev. John Williams</span>, author of Missionary Enterprises, -&c. 1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="book">SACRED CHOIR.</p> - -<p class="hanging">A Collection of Church Music. Edited by <span class="smcap">George Kingsley</span>, -author of Social Choir, &c.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“This collection is pronounced by the most eminent professors to be superior -to any published in the country.”</p> - -<p class="book">Physical Theory of Another Life.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Isaac Taylor</span>, author of Natural History of Enthusiasm. -Third edition. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">HOME EDUCATION.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Isaac Taylor</span>, author of Natural History of Enthusiasm, &c. -&c. Second Edition. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">Limitations of Human Responsibility.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Francis Wayland</span>, D.D. Second edition. 1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="book">The Principles of Diagnosis.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Marshall Hall</span>, M.D. F.R.S., &c. Second edition, with many -improvements, by <span class="smcap">Dr. John A. Swett</span>. 1 vol. 8vo.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_7"></a>[7]</span></p> - -<p class="book"><b>WORKS BY THE REV. ROBERT PHILIP.</b></p> - -<p class="book">THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF DR. MILNE,<br /> -<span class="smaller">MISSIONARY TO CHINA.</span></p> - -<p class="hanging">Illustrated by Biographical Annals of Asiatic Missions from Primitive -to Protestant Times, intended as a Guide to Missionary Spirit. -By <span class="smcap">Robert Philip</span>. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JOHN BUNYAN,</p> - -<p class="hanging">Author of the Pilgrim’s Progress. By <span class="smcap">Robert Philip</span>. With a fine -portrait. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">LADY’S CLOSET LIBRARY,<br /> -<span class="smaller">AS FOLLOWS:</span></p> - -<p class="book">THE MARYS;</p> - -<p class="hanging">Or Beauty of Female Holiness. By <span class="smcap">Robert Philip</span>. 1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="book">THE MARTHAS;</p> - -<p class="hanging">Or Varieties of Female Piety. By <span class="smcap">Robert Philip</span>. 1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="book">THE LYDIAS;</p> - -<p class="hanging">Or Development of Female Character. By <span class="smcap">Robert Philip</span>. 1 -vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="book">DEVOTIONAL AND EXPERIMENTAL GUIDES,</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Robert Philip</span>. With an Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">Rev. Albert -Barnes</span>. 2 vols. 12mo. Containing</p> - -<table> - <tr> - <td class="nw">Guide to the</td> - <td>Perplexed.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">Do</span> do</td> - <td>Devotional.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">Do</span> do</td> - <td>Thoughtful.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">Do</span> do</td> - <td>Doubting.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">Do</span> do</td> - <td>Conscientious.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="ditto">Do</span> do</td> - <td>Redemption.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p class="book">YOUNG MAN’S CLOSET LIBRARY.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Robert Philip</span> With an Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">Rev. Albert -Barnes</span>. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">LOVE OF THE SPIRIT,</p> - -<p class="hanging">Traced in his Work: a Companion to the Experimental Guides. -By <span class="smcap">Robert Philip</span>. 1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="book"><i>Shortly will be Published</i>,</p> - -<p class="book">THE HANNAHS.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Being a continuation of the Lady’s Closet Library, forming the -Maternal portion of the series.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_8"></a>[8]</span></p> - -<p class="book"><b>WORKS BY THE REV. JOHN A. JAMES.</b></p> - -<p class="book">Pastoral Addresses:</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Rev. John Angell James</span>. With an Introduction by the -<span class="smcap">Rev. Wm. Adams</span>. 1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="smaller">Contents.—The increased Holiness of the Church. Spirituality of Mind. Heavenly -Mindedness. Assurance of Hope. Practical Religion wisest in every thing. -How to spend a Profitable Sabbath. Christian Obligations. Life of Faith. Influence -of Older Christians. The Spirit of Prayer. Private Prayer. Self-Examination.</p> - -<p class="book">THE YOUNG MAN FROM HOME.</p> - -<p class="hanging">In a series of Letters, especially directed for the Moral Advancement -of Youth. By the <span class="smcap">Rev. John Angell James</span>. Fifth edition. -1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="book">The Anxious Enquirer after Salvation</p> - -<p class="hanging">Directed and Encouraged. By <span class="smcap">Rev. John Angell James</span>. 1 vol. -18mo.</p> - -<p class="book">The Christian Professor.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Addressed in a series of Counsels and Cautions to the Members of -Christian Churches. By <span class="smcap">Rev. John Angell James</span>. 1 vol. -18mo.</p> - -<p class="book">Happiness, its Nature and Sources.</p> - -<p class="center">By <span class="smcap">Rev. John Angell James</span>.</p> - -<p class="book">THE WIDOW DIRECTED</p> - -<p class="center">To the Widow’s God. By <span class="smcap">Rev. John Angell James</span>.</p> - -<p class="book">DISCOURSES ON THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Select Discourses on the Functions of the Nervous System, in opposition -to Phrenology, Materialism and Atheism; to which is prefixed -a Lecture on the Diversities of the Human Character, arising -from Physiological Peculiarities. By <span class="smcap">John Augustine -Smith</span>, M.D. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">Thoughts in Affliction.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By the <span class="smcap">Rev. A. S. Thelwall A.M.</span> To which is added <i>Bereaved -Parents Consoled</i>, by <span class="smcap">John Thornton</span>, with <i>Sacred Poetry</i>. -1 vol. 32mo.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_9"></a>[9]</span></p> - -<p class="book"><b>WORKS BY THE REV. DR. SPRAGUE.</b></p> - -<p class="book">True and False Religion.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Lectures illustrating the Contrast between True Christianity and -various other systems. By <span class="smcap">William B. Sprague</span>, D.D. 1 vol. -12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">Lectures on Revivals</p> - -<p class="hanging">In Religion. By <span class="smcap">W. B. Sprague</span>, D.D. With an Introductory -Essay by <span class="smcap">Leonard Woods</span>, D.D. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">Letters to a Daughter,</p> - -<p class="hanging">On Practical Subjects. By <span class="smcap">W. B. Sprague</span>, D.D. Fourth edition, -revised and enlarged. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">Lectures to Young People.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">W. B. Sprague</span>, D.D. With an Introductory Address by <span class="smcap">Samuel -Miller</span>, D.D. Fourth edition. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">MY SON’S MANUAL.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Comprising a Summary View of the Studies, Accomplishments, and -Principles of Conduct, best suited for Promoting Respectability -and Success in Life. Elegantly engraved frontispiece. 1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="book">MY DAUGHTER’S MANUAL.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Comprising a Summary View of Female Studies, Accomplishments -and Principles of Conduct. Beautiful frontispiece. 1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="book">GRIFFIN’S REMAINS:</p> - -<p class="hanging">Remains of the Rev. Edmund D. Griffin. Compiled by <span class="smcap">Francis -Griffin</span>. With a Memoir by <span class="smcap">Rev. Dr. McVicar</span>. 2 vols, 8vo.</p> - -<p class="book">HODGE ON THE STEAM-ENGINE.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Steam Engine, its Origin and Gradual Improvement from the -time of Hero to the present day, as adapted to Manufactures, Locomotion -and Navigation. Illustrated with forty-eight plates in -full detail, numerous wood cuts, &c. By <span class="smcap">Paul R. Hodge</span>, C. E. -1 vol. folio of plates and letter-press in 8vo.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“In this work the best Western and Eastern machinery, as applied to navigation, -together with the most approved locomotive engines in this country and -Europe, are given in detail, forming the most valuable work for the practical man -ever published.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_10"></a>[10]</span></p> - -<p class="book">APPLETON’S TALES FOR THE PEOPLE<br /> -<span class="smaller"><b>And their Children.</b></span></p> - -<p class="hanging">The greatest care is taken in selecting the works of which the -collection is composed, so that nothing either mediocre in talent, -or immoral in tendency, is admitted. Each volume is printed -in the finest paper, is illustrated with an elegant frontispiece, -and is bound in a superior manner, tastefully ornamented.</p> - -<p class="center">The following have already appeared uniform in size and style:</p> - -<p class="hanging"><b>WHO SHALL BE GREATEST?</b> A Tale: by <span class="smcap">Mary Howitt</span>. -1 vol. 18mo., plates.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“The great moral lesson inculcated by this book is indicated by its title; and -while it is prominent enough through the whole volume, it comes out at the -close with most impressive effect. We need not say it is a lesson which every -human being is the wiser and the better for learning. We cordially recommend -the work to all who would desire to form a sober and rational estimate -of the world’s enjoyments.”—<i>Albany Evening Journal.</i></p> - -<p class="hanging"><b>SOWING AND REAPING</b>: or What will Come of It? by -<span class="smcap">Mary Howitt</span>. 1 vol. 18mo., plates.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“We commenced it with the intention of just looking it over for the purpose -of writing a cursory notice; but we began to read, and so we went on -to the finis. It is very interesting: the characters are full of individuality.”—<i>New-Bedford -Mercury.</i></p> - -<p class="hanging"><b>STRIVE AND THRIVE</b>: a Tale by <span class="smcap">Mary Howitt</span>. 1 vol. -18mo., plates.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“The mere announcement of the name of the authoress, will doubtless -bring any of her productions to the immediate notice of the public; but -Strive and Thrive is not a book for children only, but can be read with -pleasure and advantage by those of a more mature age. It fully sustains the -reputation of its predecessors. The style is easy and flowing, the language -chaste and beautiful, and the incidents of the tale calculated to keep up the -interest to the end.”—<i>New-York Courier & Enquirer.</i></p> - -<p class="hanging"><b>HOPE ON, HOPE EVER</b>: or the Boyhood of Felix Law: by -<span class="smcap">Mary Howitt</span>. 1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“A very neat volume with the above title, and the farther annunciation -that it may be called Tales for the People and their Children, has been written -by Mary Howitt, whose name is so favourably known to the reading community.”</p> - -<p class="smaller">“This volume like all others that emanate from the pen of this lady, is extremely -interesting; the characters are naturally drawn, while the feeling and -passion displayed, give the work a higher rank than is usually allotted to -Nursery Tales.”—<i>Commercial Advertiser.</i></p> - -<p class="hanging"><b>THE LOOKING GLASS FOR THE MIND</b>: or Intellectual -Mirror, being an elegant collection of the most delightful -little stories and interesting tales: chiefly translated from that -much admired work L’ami des Enfans; with numerous wood -cuts—the twentieth edition. 1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="smaller">The stories here collected are of a most interesting character, since virtue is -constantly represented as the fountain of happiness, and vice as the source of -every evil—as a useful and instructive Looking Glass, we recommend it for the -instruction of every youth, whether Miss or Master; it is a <i>mirror</i> that will -not flatter them or lead them into error; it displays the follies and improper -pursuits of youthful hearts, points out the dangerous paths they sometimes -tread, and clears the way to the <i>temple of honour and fame</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_11"></a>[11]</span></p> - -<p class="hanging"><b>THE SETTLERS AT HOME</b>: by <span class="smcap">Harriet Martineau</span>. -1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“The circumstances under which this little volume, for the amusement of -children, has been produced, give an additional charm to its truth, simplicity, -and feeling. The tale, though in one passage sorrowful enough to moisten -many a pair of eyes, is full of interest and character. The latter, we may -add, is as much appreciated by children as the former; and they will take as -lively an interest in Ailwin’s ignorant and unselfish fidelity and her stalwart -arms, and in Roger Redfurn the gipsy boy’s gleams of better nature, as in the -developement of the main incident of the book, a disastrous flood which -spread devastation over the Isle of Axholme two hundred years ago.”—<i>Athenæum.</i></p> - -<p class="smaller">“The early tales of Miss Martineau, written to inculcate and illustrate, by -practical examples, the truths of political economy, will survive her later -and more controversial works. So in this little story of the History and ill-treatment -of some Dutch settlers, in the fens of Lincolnshire—during the wars -of the Parliament because they were strangers, and because, moreover, they -interfered with the wild and ague-shaken gunners and fishermen of the fens,—we -see again the same shrewdness of observation—the same real interest in the -welfare of the humble classes—the same sagacity, and occasional natural pathos, -which rendered the politico-economical tracts so attractive, in despite of -their name and subject.”—<i>New-York American.</i></p> - -<p class="hanging"><b>EARLY FRIENDSHIP</b>: a Tale by <span class="smcap">Mrs. Copley</span>. 1 vol. 18mo., -plates.</p> - -<p class="smaller">In introducing the name of a new writer to this series of -popular works, the publishers cannot but express their desire -that all who have purchased previous volumes, will buy this, -being assured it will commend itself to the reader so that the -name of Mrs. Copley will soon, like the name of <i>Howitt</i>, -be a passport to the notice and favour of the whole reading -community.</p> - -<p class="hanging"><b>FAMILY SECRETS</b>: or Hints to those who would make -Home Happy, by Mrs. <span class="smcap">Ellis</span>, author of “The Women of -England,” “Poetry of Life,” etc.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“The tendency of this book is one of the best and noblest. The scenes and -characters are, it is believed, portraits. Aiming as it does at the correction -of a too prevalent vice—it is expected that the Family Secrets will command -amongst the serious and thinking part of the community as extensive a -popularity as Nicholas Nickleby does in its peculiar circle.”</p> - -<p class="hanging"><b>PAST DAYS</b>; a Story for Children. By <span class="smcap">Esther Whitlock</span>. -Square 18mo.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“It is a delightful, instructive little book; and if the child, when she closes -the volume, find her ‘eyes red with weeping,’ let her not be ashamed; one old -enough to be her grandfather, caught the same disease from the same source.”—<i>Philadelphia -United States Gazette.</i></p> - -<p class="book">HAZEN’S SYMBOLICAL SPELLING-BOOK.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Symbolical Spelling Book, in two parts. By <span class="smcap">Edward Hazen</span>. -Containing 288 engravings, printed on good paper.</p> - -<p class="smaller">“This work is already introduced into upwards of one thousand different -schools, and pronounced to be one of the best works published.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_12"></a>[12]</span></p> - -<p class="book">Lafever’s Modern Architecture.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Beauties of Modern Architecture; consisting of Forty-eight Plates -of Original Designs, with Plans, Elevations and Sections, also a -Dictionary of Technical Terms, the whole forming a complete -Manual for the Practical Business Man. By <span class="smcap">M. Lafever</span>, Architect. -1 vol. large 8vo. half bound.</p> - -<p class="book">Lafever’s Stair-Case and Hand-Rail Construction.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Modern Practice of Stair-Case and Hand-Rail Construction, -practically explained in a series of Designs. By <span class="smcap">M. Lafever</span>, -Architect. With Plans and Elevations for Ornamental Villas. -Fifteen plates. 1 vol. large 8vo.</p> - -<p class="book">Keightly’s Mythology for Schools.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy, designed for the use of -Schools. By <span class="smcap">Thomas Keightly</span>. Numerous wood cut illustrations. -1 vol. 18mo. half bound.</p> - -<p class="book">POLYMICRIAN NEW TESTAMENT.</p> - -<p class="center">Numerous References, Maps, &c. 1 vol. 18mo.</p> - -<p class="book">A GIFT FROM FAIRY-LAND.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">J. K. Paulding</span>, Esq. Illustrated with one hundred unique -original plates by Chapman. Elegantly bound. 1 vol. 12mo.</p> - -<p class="book">☞ <i>Preparing for Publication.</i></p> - -<p class="book">LEARN TO LIVE.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Disce Vivere, Learn to Live; wherein is shown that the Life of -Christ is, and ought to be, an express Pattern for imitation unto -the life of a Christian. By <span class="smcap">Christopher Sutton</span>, DD., sometime -Prebend of Westminster. 1 vol. 16mo. elegantly printed.</p> - -<p class="book">The Early English Church;</p> - -<p class="hanging">By the Rev. <span class="smcap">Edward Churton</span>, A.M. 1 vol. 16mo. With a Preface -by the Right Rev. Bishop <span class="smcap">Ives</span>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_13"></a>[13]</span></p> - -<p class="book">PALMER’S TREATISE on the CHURCH.</p> - -<p class="center smaller">A TREATISE ON THE CHURCH OF CHRIST,</p> - -<p class="hanging">Designed chiefly for the use of Students in Theology. By the -<span class="smcap">Rev. William Palmer</span>, M.A., of Worcester College, Oxford. -Edited, with Notes, by the Right <span class="smcap">Rev. W. R. Whittingham</span>, D.D., -Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the diocese of -Maryland. 2 vols. 8vo. Handsomely printed on fine paper.</p> - -<p class="book">The Beauties of the Country;</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Thomas Miller</span>; author of “Rural Sketches,” “Day in the -Woods,” &c.</p> - -<p class="book">HISTORY OF NAPOLEON,</p> - -<p class="hanging">From the French of <span class="smcap">M. Laurent de L’Ardeche</span>. With Five -Hundred Illustrations, after Designs by <span class="smcap">Horace Vernet</span>. 2 -vols. 8vo.</p> - -<p class="book">The Selected Beauties of British Poetry,</p> - -<p class="hanging">With Biographical and Critical Notices, and an Essay on English -Poetry. By <span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell</span>. One handsome volume, royal -8vo.</p> - -<p class="book">LYRI APOSTOLICI.</p> - -<p class="center">From the last London edition. 1 vol. 16mo. elegantly printed.</p> - -<p class="book">Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe.</p> - -<p class="hanging">By <span class="smcap">Daniel Defoe</span>. With Three Hundred Illustrations; after Designs -by <span class="smcap">Grandville</span>. 1 vol. 8vo.</p> - -<p class="book">THE PHILOSOPHICAL HISTORY OF MANKIND.</p> - -<p class="center">From the German of <span class="smcap">Herder</span>.</p> - -<p class="book">RANKE’S REFORMATION IN GERMANY,</p> - -<p class="hanging">The History of the Reformation in Germany. By <span class="smcap">Leopold von -Ranke</span>, author of the History of the Popes. Translated by <span class="smcap">Sarah -Austen</span>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_14"></a>[14]</span></p> - -<p class="book"><i>Recently Published.</i></p> - -<p class="book">The Sacred Choir:<br /> -<span class="smaller">A COLLECTION OF CHURCH MUSIC.</span></p> - -<p class="hanging">Consisting of Selections from the most distinguished authors, among -whom are the names of <span class="smcap">Haydn</span>, <span class="smcap">Mozart</span>, <span class="smcap">Beethoven</span>, <span class="smcap">Pergolessi</span>, -&c. &c.; with several pieces of Music by the author; -also a Progressive Elementary System of Instruction for Pupils. -By <span class="smcap">George Kingsley</span>, author of the Social Choir, &c. &c. -Fourth edition.</p> - -<p class="hanging">☞ The following are among the many favourable opinions -expressed of this work.</p> - -<div class="blockquote smaller"> - -<p class="titlepage"><i>From L. Meignen, Professor of Music, Philadelphia.</i></p> - -<p class="noindent">“G. Kingsley,</p> - -<p>“Sir,—I have carefully perused the copy of your new work, and it is with -the greatest pleasure that I now tell you that I have been highly gratified with the -reading of many of its pieces. The harmony throughout is full, effective and -correct; the melodies are well selected and well adapted; and I have no doubt, -that when known and appreciated, this work will be found in the library of every -choir whose director feels, as many do, the want of a complete reformation in -that department of music. Believe me, dear sir,</p> - -<p class="center">“Yours respectfully,</p> - -<p class="right">“L. Meignen.”</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><i>From Mr. B. Denman, President of the David Sacred Music Society, Philadelphia, to George Kingsley.</i></p> - -<p>“Dear sir,—Having examined your ‘Sacred Choir,’ I feel much pleasure in recommending -it as the very best collection of Church Music I have ever seen. It -combines the beauties of other books of the kind, with some decided improvements -in selection, arrangement and composition, and commends itself to the -choir, the parlour and social circle. Wishing you the success your valuable and -well-arranged work merits, I am, sir,</p> - -<p class="center">“Yours respectfully.”</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><i>From the Committee of the Choir of Yale College.</i></p> - -<p>“Sir,—We have been using for some time past your new publication in the -choir with which we are connected. We take pleasure in stating to you our entire -satisfaction with the manner in which it has been compiled and harmonized, -and would willingly recommend it to any of the associations desiring a collection -of Sacred Music of a sterling character and original matter. The melodies are -quite varied and of an unusually pleasing character; and uniting, as they do, the -devotional with the pleasing, we have no hesitation in giving them our preference -to any other collection of a similar character at present in use among the -churches.”</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><i>From Three Leaders of Choirs.</i></p> - -<p class="noindent">“Mr. George Kingsley.</p> - -<p>“Sir—We have examined the ‘Sacred Choir’ enough to lead us to appreciate -the work as the best publication of Sacred Music extant. It is beautifully -printed and substantially bound, conferring credit on the publishers. We bespeak -for the ‘Sacred Music Choir’ an extensive circulation.</p> - -<p class="center">Sincerely yours,</p> - -<p class="right">“O. S. Bowdoin.<br /> -“E. O. Goodwin.<br /> -“D. Ingraham.”</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_15"></a>[15]</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage larger">EMPORIUM FOR STANDARD LITERATURE,<br /> -<span class="smaller">English and American.</span></p> - -<p class="book">D. APPLETON &, Co.</p> - -<p class="noindent">Beg leave to invite the attention of their Friends and the Public -generally, to their Choice and Unique Assortment of the most important -Works that emanate from the English and American Press.</p> - -<p>Their Establishment is distinguished by its large collection of -Standard Works in the several departments of <span class="smcap">Theology</span>, <span class="smcap">Civil -and Ecclesiastical History</span>, <span class="smcap">Poetry</span>, <span class="smcap">Natural and Moral -Philosophy</span>, <span class="smcap">Architecture and Engineering</span>, <span class="smcap">General Biography</span>, -<span class="smcap">Voyages and Travels</span>, <span class="smcap">Fine Arts</span>, <span class="smcap">Classical</span> and -<span class="smcap">General Literature</span>.</p> - -<p class="smaller">Among their recent importations will be found new and beautiful -editions of the Works of Bacon, Clarendon, Burnet, Jeremy -Taylor, Milton, Barrow, Hooker, Ben Jonson, Mussinger and Ford, -Beaumont and Fletcher, Shakspeare, Froissart, Monstrelet, Doddridge, -Baxter, Owen, Strype, Bloomfield, Cranmer, Butler, Cave, -Berkeley, Adams, Greenhill, Donne South, Hume and Smollett, -Gibbon, Robertson, Locke, Lardner, Leslie, Hurd, Porteus, John -Scott, Skelton, Sherlocke, Warburton, Chillingworth, Leighton, -Simeon, Tillotson, Hall, Shirley, Davy, Henry, Clarke, Wraxhall, -Alison, Mitford, Byron, Stackhouse, Bentley, Shaaron, Turner, -Spencer, Warton, Fuller, Lamb, Hazlitt, Coleridge, Shelley, -Bingham, Graves, Beveridge, Wycherley, Congreve, Vanbrugh, -Farquhar, and others, too numerous to mention, always for sale -on favourable terms.</p> - -<p class="book">AMERICAN BOOKS.</p> - -<p>Their Assortment of “Modern American Publications” is now -very complete, comprising the most Valuable and Approved</p> - -<p class="center">WORKS IN THEOLOGICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS -LITERATURE,</p> - -<p class="center smaller">TO WHICH ADDITIONS ARE CONSTANTLY BEING ADDED.</p> - -<p class="book">School Books in every variety.</p> - -<p class="center">Country Merchants supplied on the most -favourable terms.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="adPage_16"></a>[16]</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage larger">IMPORTATION OF EUROPEAN BOOKS.</p> - -<p class="book">D. APPLETON & Co.</p> - -<p class="noindent">Beg to inform Literary and Scientific Gentlemen, and the Public -generally, that they have recently made extensive arrangements for -the increase of their business, through the senior partner of their -firm, (now resident in England,) connected with the establishment -of a permanent London Agency for the purchase and supply of -European Books, to be conducted by one of their house, who will -devote his personal attention to the execution of all orders transmitted -them, with the utmost promptitude and despatch.</p> - -<p>They are induced to take this step from a conviction of its important -utility to the literary interests of this country, derived from -their long experience in business; and they flatter themselves that -this arrangement will place them in the most favourable position -for making purchases in the British and Continental Book Markets; -while by restricting their business simply to an Agency for the purchase -of Books, they will enjoy all the advantages accorded by the -custom of the London Trade when books are bought for exportation -to a foreign country, but which are rigorously withheld from any -establishment engaged in the sale of books on the spot.</p> - -<p>It will be their aim to merit the patronage of the public by furnishing -books at the lowest possible price, and the constant attention -of a member of their Firm, personally acquainted with the British -and Foreign Book Trade, will secure the speedy execution of all -orders entrusted to their care.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Terms.</span>—Colleges, Theological Seminaries, and Incorporated Institutions -generally, may have their orders executed, to any amount, -free of duty, on a charge of Ten per cent. Commission—the Goods -to be paid for on their arrival at New-York—without any advance -of cash required.</p> - -<p>From Gentlemen, and Private Individuals, (when they are not -known to D. A. & Co.) an advance of one half the probable cost of -the order will be required; the balance to be settled on the arrival -of the Books at New-York. 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