In his cell the knight is lying, naked, fettered foot and hand;
Bound unto the rocky ground with many an iron link and band;
On him lie the piles of granite, pressing, pressing; yet he still
Looks on death with lofty eye--so giant is his mighty will.
Day by day, he lay and suffered, wrung with agony, but content--
Day by day, though hard to bear was his grievous punishment--
Never once, though, hour on hour, they piled the jagged granite higher
On his quivering limbs, he murmured; yet his very veins were fire.
Once, however, came his jailer, saying that his nephew sought
His presence; and the knight, consenting, in his brother's son was brought:
"Uncle Roland," quoth he, weeping, "what is this that I have done?
Curses, curses on my head! curse, uncle, curse thy brother's son!
Mine the tongue that wrought this evil--mine the false and slanderous
tongue
That done to death the Lady Gwineth--O! my soul is sadly wrung!"
"Demon, devil!" groaned the warrior--"devil of the evil eye!
Look upon the awful horror wrought by thy atrocious lie.
Tell me? was it all a falsehood? Tell me, was it all--all--all?
Speak! and let these prison walls, oppressed with horror, on thee fall!"
"All was false! Mine, too the ambush; for I sought to grasp thy lands--
Sought to win the Lady Gwineth, with thy blood upon my hands.
But she drove me forth with scorn; and then I coined the lying tale--
O! forgive me, Uncle Roland! give me leave to weep and wail;
Give me leave to sit in sackcloth, heaping ashes on my head;
Mourning in some craggy cavern for the early lost and dead."
"Unexampled liar and traitor! first of all our noble name
Guilty of so black a treason! first to stain our shield with shame!
Hence! away! I--No! repent! begone! and pray for my repose:
Life on both of us too soon for our grievous crimes will close.
I forgive thee--now away--nay, do not touch me! I am wan--
Sick with suffering--mad with anguish--Go!" The penitent man is gone.
--Once again he lies alone, save his agony, alone;
Then they come and pile upon him heavier weights of iron and stone.
Still more pallid, at the even, Roland in his anguish lay,
Wrestling, for his soul was strong, with his body's slow decay;
And the sweat upon his forehead stood and rolled and fell like rain,
Cold, while pain and fire and fever battled in his heart and brain.
Now and then his senses wandered; now again his mind was calm,
And he wrung from out his suffering penitential draughts of balm;
Then again his senses left him, and he lay in phrenzy there,
Talking wildly in his madness with the dim, impalpable air.
Now, he saw the Lady Gwineth wandering in her maiden joy;
Now, he viewed her in her chamber frolic with her baby boy;
Now, he saw her sadly lying, all her bosom bathed with blood;
And beheld himself as o'er her on that fatal night he stood.
Was he dreaming? through his dungeon stole a pale purpureal light,
Flowing round him, floating round him, making daylight of its night;
In its midst, his gentle Gwineth, while around her brow there flowed,
Fluttering flame, a golden halo! that with heavenly glory glowed.
Did he hear her? Was it real? With an angel's voice she spoke:
How the words, like flakes of music, silver music! sweetly broke,
Round and round him! how they floated, ringing in his ravished ears,
Like the notes of Memnon's lyre, or chantings from the distant spheres!
"Coming, Roland, from that heaven where, though clad with light, I sigh
And languish for the softer lustre of thy gentle loving eye,
I await thee, singing, singing hymns to cheer thy dying hour
That the Cherubim sang in Eden when it first arose in flower.
Hearken! how my notes are mingling--one by one, and two by two,
Dropping on thy brain as falls on fading roses freshening dew;
Three by three, they upward circle: thou hast heard them in thy dreams,
When I came, a missioned spirit, from the four eternal streams.
I can see them, though thine eyes can only compass earthly vision:
Soon, O, Roland! soon, O, Roland! thou shalt see with eyes elysian:
Then the notes that now thou hearest thou shalt see, as on they flow,--
Angels that are rarest air! and view them through their dances go."
Still, entranced, the sufferer listened; and it seemed as from his pain
Sweeter music yet was born, for holier hymning lulled his brain;
Very wild his agony; very; but between its bars his eyes
Saw the angels as they wandered on the walls of Paradise.
Faint and fainter grew he, while the melody loud and louder rang,
Till it seemed not only Gwineth but a myriad angels sang;
And his soul seemed rising, rising, rising from his pallid clay,
Which, each moment, grew more feeble--faintlier wrestling with decay.
Burst upon his ears one swell! it seemed an anthem of the spheres,
Jubilant, divinely ringing; swam his eyes with happy tears--
"Come, forgiven one," the cadence, "chastened spirit, come, arise
From thine earthly prison-house to holy homes beyond the skies."
Fainter, fainter, still more feeble, grew the sufferer as he heard,
And a sigh swooned on the silence, soft as breathing of a bird,--
And all was over. In his trance his spirit's sparkling feet had trod
The realms of space, and gone from earth, through air, to judgment and
to God.
NOTES.
The judgment of the _peine forte et dure_, on an instance of which our
ballad is founded, was well known in the ancient law of England. As
has been seen, it was terribly severe. The circumstances of the
judgment were as follows: When a prisoner stood charged with an
offence, and an indictment had been found against him, before he could
be tried he was called upon to answer, or, in technical parlance, to
plead. A plea in bar is an answer, either affirming or denying the
offence charged in the indictment, or, if of a dilatory character,
showing some ground why the defendant should not be called upon to
answer at all. In those days, in all capital cases, the estates of the
criminal, on conviction and judgment, were forfeited to the crown. The
blood of the offender was considered as corrupted, and, as a
consequence, his property could not pass to his family, who, although
innocent, suffered for the faults of the criminal. Crimes, therefore,
where the punishment fell, not only on the criminal but on his family,
were comparatively of rare occurrence. An admission of guilt produced
the same effect as a conviction. If the defendant, however, stood
mute, obstinately refusing to answer, by which behaviour he preserved
his estates to his family, he was sentenced to undergo the judgment of
the _peine forte et dure_.
"The English judgment of penance for standing mute," says Chief
Justice Blackstone, in his admirable Commentaries, "was as follows:
That the prisoner be remanded to the prison from whence he came, and
put into a low, dark chamber; and there be laid on his back, naked,
unless where decency forbids: that there be placed upon his body as
great a weight of iron as he could bear and more; that he have no
sustenance, save only on the first day, three morsels of the worst
bread; and, on the second day, three draughts of standing water, that
should be nearest to the prison door; and in this situation this
should be alternately his daily diet _till he died_, or (as anciently
the judgement ran) _till he answered_."
With respect to this horrid judgment, Christian, in his notes to the
same work, goes on to say: that "the prosecutor and the court could
exercise no discretion, or show no favour to a prisoner who stood
obstinately mute." "In the legal history of this country," (England,)
he continues, "are numerous instances of persons who have had
resolution and patience to undergo so terrible a death in order to
benefit their heirs by preventing a forfeiture of their estates, which
would have been a consequence of a conviction by a verdict. There is a
memorable story of an ancestor of an ancient family in the north of
England. In a fit of jealousy he killed his wife; and put to death his
children who were at home, by throwing them from the battlements of
his castle; and proceeding with an intent to destroy his only
remaining child, an infant nursed at a farm-house at some distance, he
was intercepted by a storm of thunder and lightning. This awakened in
his breast compunction of conscience. He desisted from his purpose,
and having surrendered himself to justice, in order to secure his
estates to this child, he had the resolution to die under the dreadful
judgment of the _peine forte et dure_." This tale is the base of our
romance.
THE SEA NYMPH'S SONG.
BY WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER.
Sound is he sleeping
Far under the wave--
Sea nymphs are keeping
A watch for the brave:
Deep was our grief and wild--
Wilder our dirge
When the doomed ocean child
Drowned in the surge.
Within a bright chamber
His form we have laid;
With spar, pearl and amber
The walls are arrayed--
Though high rolls the billow
He wakes not at morn,
And sponge for his pillow
From rocks we have torn.
I heard thy name spoken
When down came the mast;
His hold was then broken,
That _word_ was his last.
A picture is lying,
Lorn maid! on his breast--
That picture in dying
His hand closely prest.
Why turns thy cheek paler
These tidings to know?
The truth of thy sailor
Should lessen thy wo:
The wave could not chill it
That stifled his breath;
Pure _love_--can aught kill it?
Give answer, Oh, Death!
THE LITTLE GOLD-FISH.
A FAIRY TALE.
BY JAMES K. PAULDING, AUTHOR OF THE "DUTCHMAN'S FIRESIDE," ETC.
In the reign of good King Doddipol, surnamed the Gnatsnapper, there
lived in a stately castle, on the top of a high mountain, a rich old
Norseman, who had an only son whom he loved with great ardor, and
little discretion, on account of his being the last of an illustrious
family. The youth was called Violet, partly because he had for his
godmother the Fairy Violetta, and partly on account of having on his
left shoulder an impression of that flower, so perfectly defined, and
so vivid in color, that the old nurse mistook it at first sight for a
real violet, and declared it smelled like a nosegay.
Being the only son of a great and rich nobleman, as well as somewhat
indolent and unambitious, Violet passed much of his time, while
growing up to manhood, in thinking much and doing nothing. He was
without companions, having no equals around him, and was prohibited
from associating with his inferiors by the strict etiquette which
prevailed throughout the dominions of good King Doddipol. As he grew
up thus in almost entire solitude his temperament became highly
poetical and imaginative, his feelings irregular and ardent, and it
was predicted that some day or other he would become a martyr to love.
Much of his time was spent in lonely rambles among the mountains which
surrounded the residence of the Old Man of the Hills, as he was
called, a distance of many miles in every direction, and one summer
day, wandering on without knowing or caring whither he went, he at
length found himself in a region where he had never been before. It
was a deep, sequestered, rocky dell, shaded by gloomy pines, from the
farther extremity of which there tumbled a bright cascade of
snow-white foam, which, after forming a deep transparent basin at its
foot, escaped murmuring among the rocks below and disappeared. Not a
sound was heard but that of the falling waters and the gurgling
stream, for the birds delight not in the gloom of perpetual shade, and
neither hunter nor woodman ever visited this lonely retreat.
Tired with his long ramble, Violet sat down at the foot of a lofty
tree, whose roots seemed to drink of the crystal basin, and fell into
a deep reverie, during which his eyes were fixed unconsciously on the
transparent water, which, though clear as our northern lakes, was so
deep that no one could see the bottom. While thus occupied in weaving
webs of youthful anticipation, he saw a little gold-fish suddenly dart
from under the rock on which he was seated, and play around with
infinite grace, quivering its fins and fanning its tail, while their
bright colors glittered in the rippling water with indescribable
brilliancy.
The youth watched its motions with increasing interest, and an
eagerness he had never experienced before. Sometimes it would come up
close to the spot, almost within reach of his hand, and after
balancing on the surface awhile, again dart away, only to return and
play a thousand fantastic gambols, full of vivacity and grace. At
other times it would remain stationary awhile, looking him in the face
with its mellow, melancholy eyes, and an expression of sorrowful
tenderness that sunk into his heart. He remained watching its motions
in deep solicitude, until the gathering shadows of twilight warned him
away, and reached home so late that he found his father anxiously
awaiting his return. The Old Man of the Hills inquired of him where he
had been, and what had detained him so long; but he answered
evasively, being ashamed to confess he had been fascinated by a little
gold-fish.
That night he could think of nothing but the little gold-fish, and
when at length sleep came over his eyelids, he dreamed it was a
beautiful princess, transformed by the power of some wicked enchanter
or malignant fairy. The impression was so vivid in his mind, that when
he awoke he could not decide whether it was indeed a dream, or whether
he had not actually seen the charming princess, whose features were
indelibly impressed on his memory. The next morning he again sought
the path he had traveled the day before, and about mid-day arrived at
the glen of the shining cascade. He had scarcely seated himself, when
the little gold-fish darted from under the rock as before, and winning
its way to the surface of the crystal basin, looked at him with an
expression of its beautiful eyes that spoke a joyful welcome. Violet
put forth his hand, and tried to woo it still nearer, but it only gave
a melancholy shake of the head, and when he attempted to seize it,
retired beyond his reach with a lingering hesitation that seemed to
indicate a mingled desire and apprehension.
Thus the little creature continued to coquette with him for several
days during which he repeated his visits, staying all day, and
dreaming every night the same dream of the beautiful princess changed
into a little gold-fish. While absent from the crystal basin, his
imagination was forever dwelling on the form and features of the
princess, and the mysterious connection he was convinced subsisted
between his waking thoughts and experience and his nightly dreams. By
degrees the two became inseparably associated together in his mind,
and insensibly he fell in love to distraction, but whether with the
beautiful princess or the little gold-fish he could not decide. He
became so melancholy in consequence that the latter, as if conscious
of his feelings, permitted him to take it in his hand, kiss it, and
nestle it in his bosom at pleasure. At such times he would beseech it
in the most moving terms to speak to him, tell him if his dreams were
true, and respond to his devoted affection. But it only replied by a
silent tear, and a look of strange meaning, which he could not
comprehend.
Violet grew every day more sad, and his youthful form continued to
waste away, so that as he walked in the sun, his shadow could scarcely
be seen. During this period the behavior of the little gold-fish was
so full of inconsistencies and contradictions that Violet was well
nigh distracted. Sometimes it would contemplate his pale cheek and
wasted form with tears in its eyes, while at the next moment it looked
at him with an expression of unfeeling triumph. Then its eyes would
glance rapidly and eagerly, sometimes toward himself, at others down
on the crystal basin, and at others upward to the skies.
One bright morning, when the position of the sun toward the east had
become gradually changed, and the beams of the former fell directly
upon the crystal basin, Violet was sitting, as usual, fondling the
little gold-fish in his hand, admiring its soft hazel eyes, and
addressing a thousand endearments to the little dumb creature, which
at that moment appeared insensible to his affection. Keeping its eyes
earnestly fixed on the transparent waters, which now glittered in the
golden beams of the sun, the youth suddenly felt it tremble as if with
ecstasy in his hand, as with a sudden spring it vaulted into the basin
and instantly disappeared. He gazed with intense anxiety, expecting
every moment it would reappear; but it returned no more, and after
waiting in vain, until dusky twilight enveloped the glen in shadows,
he bent his way homeward, scarcely conscious whither he was going.
That night he slept from the mere weariness of sorrow, and dreamed the
beautiful princess appeared to thank and bless him for her
disenchantment.
The next day the Old Man of the Hills called his son before him, and
announced with great satisfaction that he had just concluded a treaty
of marriage between him and the oldest daughter of King Doddipol, a
lady of great discretion, and old enough to be his mother. The young
man quitted the presence of his father in despair, and, scarcely
conscious of whither he was wandering, sought the crystal basin at the
foot of the shining cascade. Here, seated on the rock, he gazed
himself almost blind, in the hope of seeing the little gold-fish once
more appear, to receive his last farewell. But he gazed in vain for
hours, and hours, until in the bitterness of disappointment he at
length cried out aloud--"It is all in vain. It will come no more, and
nothing is now left me but a remembrance carrying with it eternal
regrets. But one hope remains. I will seek my adored princess, for
such I know she is, where she disappeared from my sight, and either
find her or a grave." Saying this he plunged into the basin in an
agony of despair.
He continued to sink, as it appeared to him, for nearly half an hour,
without once drawing his breath, until, just as he felt himself quite
exhausted, he found himself precipitated into what seemed a new
world, far more beautiful than that he had just abandoned. The skies
were of a deeper blue, and being likewise far more transparent,
reflected the features of the lower world as in a vast illimitable
mirror. There was no sun visible in the heavens. Yet a soft, delicious
mellow light, more rich and yet more gentle than that of summer
twilight, diffused itself everywhere, giving to every object the charm
of distance, and giving to the air a genial warmth inexpressibly
grateful. The meadows seemed like endless waving seas of verdure, and
together with the foliage of the woods, exhibited all the freshness of
the new-born spring; the little warbling birds seemed to revel among
the groves and verdant meads in joyous luxury, filling the air with
their melodious concert; the meadows were sprinkled with beds of
flowers of various hues and fragrance, and a thousand delicious odors
gave zest to every breath he drew. Vast fields of violets, most
especially, were spread out in every direction, larger and more
beautiful than any he had ever seen before. A gentle river meandered
deep and clear through a long valley spread out before him, skirted on
either side by pale blue hills, so high they seemed to reach and
mingle with the heavens above. A cool, refreshing zephyr played about
his brow, and as he breathed its inspiring odors, Violet felt himself
suddenly restored to all his wonted vigor and activity.
As he stood gazing in almost stupefied wonder at the scene before him,
and doubtful whether it was merely a creation of his bewildered fancy,
he perceived a radiant female form approaching, seated in a chariot
formed of a single violet, and crowned with a diadem of the same
flowers. Her dress, too, was composed of many-colored violets, and her
chariot drawn by butterflies, whose wings of gold and purple were of
glorious lustre. The chariot stood still on coming up to the youth;
the lady springing out, lighted on the flowers without ruffling their
leaves, and giving him her tiny hand addressed him as follows:
"Welcome, Prince Violet, for such you are by birth,
and by my creation. I was the friend of your
mother. I presided at your birth, and I gave you
your name. I therefore feel in some measure
responsible for your happiness, and am come hither
to give you the benefit of my advice and
assistance. Know, my prince, that you are brought
here by a destiny you could not avoid. You are in
the dominions, I might almost say in the power of
the wicked enchanter Curmudgeon, who is as potent
as he is wicked. Among his other diabolical acts,
he is an adept in the new science of animal
magnetism, can put you to sleep by the waving of
his hand, pull out your teeth without your knowing
any thing about it, and divorce your spirit from
your body, sending it wandering away to distant
regions, while the body remains unconscious though
not inanimate. In short, there is no end to his
wicked devices, and he is the most mischievous,
malignant monster in the world, inexorable in his
revenge, and clothed with the power of gratifying
it to its utmost extent. It is to warn you against
him that I am here. My name is Violetta."
The prince, as he must now be called, listened to this speech with
great gravity and decorum, though he thought it rather long, and
replied with infinite discretion. He thanked the fairy for her kind
intentions, and concluded by observing that he had often, when a
child, heard his mother speak of the Fairy Violetta with great
affection.
"Your mother was a woman of taste," said the fairy, "but there is not
a moment to be lost, for the enchanter is by this time apprized of
your coming, and the purport of your visit. Do not ask me what that
is. It is sufficient that you are here to fulfill your destiny."
The fairy then stamped three times with her little foot on a bed of
violets. At the first stamp there rose out of the ground a superb suit
of violet-colored armor; at the second a sword and spear; and at the
third a gallant violet-colored steed richly caparisoned.
"Take these, arm thyself, mount, and away. You will meet with many
obstacles in your course, but you have nothing to fear so long as you
fear nothing. Your first enemy will be a little mischievous caitiff,
called Master Whipswitchem, a creature of the wicked enchanter; your
second a monstrous giant; your third a beautiful spectre, and your
fourth the enchanter himself. The first you must circumvent by your
wit; the second by your valor; the third by your self-command; and the
fourth by your promptitude and sagacity. There is no magic in your
weapons, though they are equally good and true. Your dependence must
be on yourself alone; on your valor, your constancy, and your cause;
and remember, that should you ever turn your back on an enemy, whether
man, beast, or fiend, your happy destiny will never be accomplished.
You will never see your little gold-fish again.
"My little gold-fish!" exclaimed the prince eagerly--"What dost thou
mean? O tell me, most beneficent fairy!"
"You will know in good time, if you do not turn recreant," answered
the fairy, with a significant smile. "But away, away, my prince. Mount
and away. Follow the course of the river, and once more, never turn
aside let what will be before you, remembering that nothing is
impossible to courage, conduct, and perseverance in a good cause."
The prince bowed himself before the lady, repeated his grateful
thanks, mounted his neighing steed, which pawed the ground
impatiently, and was about clapping spurs to his sides, when the fairy
suddenly stopped him.
"Hold, prince! I had almost forgotten. Take this bouquet of violets,
place it in your bosom, and guard it well. But be careful not to draw
it forth except in the last extremity, depending always on your valor
and your sword. When your life shall hang suspended by a single hair;
when the last breath is quivering on thy lips, and all other means
fail, then, and not till then, use it as your instinct may direct.
Adieu, my prince--be faithful, bold and fortunate."
The fairy mounted her chariot, the butterflies spread their gorgeous
wings, and ascending rapidly through the transparent skies the whole
pageant disappeared. The prince lost not a moment in pursuing the
course pointed out by the fairy, and as he proceeded, gradually fell
into a reverie, the subject of which was the hint that it would depend
on himself whether he ever saw the little gold-fish again. The thought
roused him to the utmost height of daring, and he resolved, come what
might, nothing should be wanting on his part to the accomplishment of
a glorious and happy destiny. He fell himself suddenly animated by
this determination to gain a noble prize by noble exertions, for
nothing is more certain than that none but groveling, abject beings,
to whom nature has denied the ordinary faculties of mind, can remain
insensible to the excitement of glory, or the rewards of love.
He had not, however, proceeded far, when on a sudden there alighted on
the head of his steed, right between the ears, one of the most
extraordinary creatures he had ever seen. It was a little imp, about
three feet high, exactly resembling one of those scarecrows we
sometimes see in corn-fields, except that it was a great deal more
_outre_ in its form and dimensions. It wore an immense hat, of the
shape of a cullender, and with almost as many holes, through which
protruded little wisps of straw instead of feathers. The face was
perfectly undefinable, having neither dimensions nor shape, resembling
nothing of the live human species, and consisting apparently entirely
of a nose which projected several inches beyond the brim of his hat;
his shirt-collar was tied with a piece of rope; his jacket was as much
too short as his breeches were too long, one being out at the elbows,
the other at the knees, the latter of which were tied with a wisp of
straw tortured into a true lover's knot; his legs seemed nothing but a
pair of short broom-sticks, of neither shape nor substance, ensconced
in an old pair of spatterdashes; and the toes of his shoes curled
upward like a pair of old-fashioned skates. Altogether he cut a
curious figure, and the prince could not help laughing at his new
traveling companion. "This," thought he, "must be Master
Whipswitchem."
But his gallant steed did not seem to enter into the spirit of the
joke. He pricked his ears, pawed the ground, snorted, champed and
foamed, and finally stood stock still, trembling like a leaf. Prince
Violet began to wax somewhat impatient. Yet at length said to him very
courteously--
"My friend, if it is the same thing to you, I had rather you would get
off and walk."
"Thank you, my friend, but if it's the same thing to you, I'd rather
ride. Ho-ho! ha-hah!" and thereupon he laughed like a whole swarm of
flies.
Then the valiant prince drew his sword and gave Master Whipswitchem a
great blow under the short-ribs, which he took it for granted would
cut him in two; but the sword rebounded as if it had struck on an
empty bladder, while the little imp only bounded upward about three
yards, alighting in the same place as before, and crying out, "Ho-ho!
hah-hah!" At this rate, thought Prince Violet, I shall never get to
the end of my journey. Still he repeated his blows, at each one of
which the pestiferous little imp only jumped higher and laughed
louder, and the gallant steed only snorted, pawed, and stamped more
vehemently, until both steed and master became quite exhausted. The
latter then resorted to artifice, seeing that force was unavailing. So
putting up his sword, he affected to expostulate with his troublesome
companion on the impropriety of his conduct, watching at the same time
for an opportunity of laying hold of him. When he seemed off his
guard, and was crying "Ho-ho! ha-hah!" with infinite glee, the prince
suddenly throwing himself forward, seized him by the long nose, and
after holding him up kicking in the air for a few moments--for he was
as light as a feather--with a sudden jerk pitched him away out into
the river, where, after bobbing up and down some half a dozen times,
and crying "Ho-ho! ha-hah!" he disappeared. "Ho-ho! ha-hah!" cried the
prince, "I think I have done Master Whipstichem's business this time."
After which he proceeded gayly on his journey.
Before, however, he had time to enjoy the victory, his gallant steed
suddenly began to rear up before, and then to kick up behind with
great violence. The prince clapped his hand on his trusty blade,
thinking he was approaching the giant, but on looking round in every
direction could see neither castle nor draw-bridge. Indeed nothing
visible seemed to justify the horse in his unseemly gambols, and the
prince accused his gallant steed of being in league with his enemies,
when happening to look over his shoulder, who should he see but Master
Whipswitchem seated quietly on the crupper, and spurring away with an
old rusty nail he had fixed in the heel of his shoe, while he held by
the horse's tail for a bridle. "I swear by the eyes of my beautiful
gold-fish," cried the prince, "but this is too bad!" And then he
attempted to dislodge the pestilent imp, by thrusting his elbow into
his back; but the little caitiff every time bounced up like a
tennis-ball, and the next instant was in his seat, crying, "Ho-ho!
ha-ha!" louder than ever. This time he was too cunning for the prince;
for knowing by experience that his nose was the most exposed part of
his outworks, he kept his back to the prince, and his face toward the
tail of the horse. At the expiration of an hour the prince became so
worried that he could scarcely lift his hand to his head, and his
horse so exhausted that he could kick no more. At length, however,
while the little caitiff was spurring and laughing away with great
glee, the prince turning suddenly round on the saddle, seized the rope
which he wore round his neck for a cravat, and leaping from his steed,
hoisted him up to an old sign-post at the road-side, where he left him
dangling in the air. "Ho-ho! ha-ha!" said the prince, "I think I shall
have no more trouble with Master Whipswitchem."
Finding himself as well as his steed quite exhausted, and both
requiring rest and refreshment, Prince Violet dismounted in a
pleasant, shady grove, through which meandered a clear stream,
bordered by rich, luxuriant grass, thus furnishing both drink and food
to the panting animal, whom, having turned loose, he left to roam at
will. Seating himself among a bed of fragrant flowers, he lighted a
cigar, and sat smoking and thinking of his future prospects.
"Ho-ho! ha-hah! my prince, what are you about? You put me in mind of a
smoking chimney, though from your mighty contented look, I should
suppose you were very pleasantly occupied. I should like to take a
puff too, if you have no objection."
"O, beneficent Fairy Violetta," exclaimed the prince, "what shall I do
with this pestiferous caitiff, who minds neither hanging nor
drowning?" And thereupon the fairy, who doubtless heard his
adjuration, inspired him with a lucky thought. Knowing that the little
caitiff was but a man of straw, animated by the wicked enchanter, he
at once resolved to take advantage of that circumstance.
"Ho-ho! ha-hah! are you there, my friend?" replied the prince. "Well,
I see there is no use in quarreling with such a pleasant fellow. Come,
sit down, and take a puff with me, and let us swear eternal
friendship."
"Agreed!" replied the little caitiff, briskly. "It is true you played
a joke or two on me, but I flatter myself, on the whole, I paid you
beforehand; and for the present the account is pretty well balanced."
So they sat down and smoked very sociably together, talking about
various matters, until the little caitiff's cigar being burnt to a
stump, and somewhat incommoding his long nose, he began turning and
twisting it about, until it set fire to some blades of straw that
projected from his nostrils, which straight-way communicated to his
head, and thence to his body, and in a moment he was in full blaze.
"I am a gone sucker!" exclaimed he, and the words were scarcely out of
his mouth when, he became nothing but a heap of black ashes.
"Ho-ho! ha-hah!" quoth the prince, "if he is a gone sucker, I take it
for granted, it is all Dicky with Master Whipswitchem." And then,
himself and his horse being sufficiently refreshed, he mounted and
rode forward on his journey.
Ascending a high, wearisome hill, he saw at a little distance a great
and magnificent castle, which he at once took for that of the
enchanter Curmudgeon. The crisis of his fate was then at hand; and
after inspecting his armor and equipments, the prince spurred on
briskly to consummate his destiny. A few moments brought him to a
tower, at the end of a draw-bridge, where hung an enormous bell,
which, without hesitating a moment, he rung till it resounded far and
near. Instantly at the sound there rose up from the inner side, a
monstrous and deformed giant, upward of sixteen feet high. As he
advanced, he seemed all body and no legs--the latter being utterly
disproportioned to the former; his shoulders rose like mountains, one
higher than the other, almost to the top of his head; his body was all
over covered with impenetrable scales like an alligator, and he wore
on his head an old Continental cocked-hat, from which projected a
queue of such unaccountable length that it was said nobody ever saw
the end of it. But his most atrocious feature was a great proboscis,
growing just over a little pug nose, he used for smelling, about the
size of that of an elephant, which it exactly resembled in strength
and elasticity.
"What want you here?" roared the monster, in a voice so loud and
horrible, that it set the bell tinkling, and in a most discourteous
manner peculiar to giants, who are notorious for their ill manners.
"I wish to see the far-famed and puissant enchanter, the great
Curmudgeon, with whom I have a bone to pick, an please your worship,"
replied the prince, with infinite politeness.
"You see him--what good will that do? He would not look at, much less
speak to, such a sloppy stripling as you. To the right-about--march!
or I'll make mince-meat of you in less than no time."
"Stand aside, and let me pass!" cried the enraged prince, drawing his
sword.
"Advance at your peril!" roared the giant, twirling his proboscis, and
twisting his long queue like a great black-snake.
And now commenced a battle, the like of which is not recorded in
history, tradition, or romance. The sword of the valiant prince
gleamed, and flashed, and flew about like lightning, raining such a
shower of dry blows on the monster, that had not his hide been
invulnerable to any but enchanted weapons, he would in good time have
been a gone sucker, as Sir Bruin said. The giant, on the other hand,
had managed his proboscis with admirable skill, his great object being
to entwine the prince in its folds, and squeeze him to death.
Sometimes he would stretch it out at least six yards, and at others
draw it in suddenly, in hopes the prince would be deceived as to its
length, and come within the sphere of its action. But the prince being
gloriously seconded by his gallant steed, displayed an activity fully
equal to the craft of the giant; and for an hour at least the fight
continued doubtful. The only vulnerable part of the monster was his
long queue, which the prince, in hopes that, like Sampson, his
strength might peradventure lie in his hair, by an adroit manoeuvre
cut off about six feet from his head. Thereupon he roared like ten
thousand bulls of Bashan, insomuch that the enchanter, Curmudgeon,
feared he was vanquished, and trembled in the recesses of his castle.
The giant frantic with rage at the loss of what he was more vain of
than even his stately proboscis, now redoubled his efforts, while the
prince every moment became more exhausted, and his gallant steed
ceased his usual activity. The giant seeing this, watched his
opportunity, till he at length succeeded in throwing a slipping noose,
made by twisting his proboscis over the head of the prince. This he
gradually tightened with all his force, until the prince perceived
himself rapidly suffocating. His eyes failed him, and seemed bursting
from their orbits; his vision presented nothing but gleams of many
colored lights dancing before him; his heart heaved and panted with
throes of desperate agony; his arm became almost nerveless, and his
sword fell from his hand, while the shouts of the giant announced that
the victory was won.
At this moment of extreme peril, when the last gleam of consciousness
lingered in his brain, the prince recollected the bouquet of violets
which he still carried in his bosom, and drawing it forth with a
desperate effort, thrust it into the little pug nose of the giant,
which was directly before him. That instant the proboscis relaxed, as
if by magic, and the giant suddenly untwining its folds, commenced a
fit of sneezing, awful to hear, jumping up several feet from the
ground at every paroxysm, swearing at intervals like a trooper, and
cutting the most enormous capers. The moment Prince Violet recovered
himself sufficiently, he dismounted, and regaining his trusty sword,
belabored the impenetrable hide of the egregious monster with such
arrant good will, that he retreated backward between every fit of
sneezing, until finally falling into the moat, he stuck fast in the
mud, sneezing and roaring most vociferously.
Prince Violet lost no time, but passed swiftly into the castle, and
proceeding through several apartments, far more vast and magnificent
than the palace of King Doddipol, at length came to the study where
the wicked enchanter practiced Mesmerism, and other diabolical
devices. The old sinner was seated in an arm-chair of ebony, curiously
carved, and ornamented with figures of strange, misshapen imps, among
which the prince recognized his old friend, Master Whipswitchem. By
his side stood a female of such transcendent and inimitable beauty,
that the prince at once concluded this was the phantom against whom he
was so emphatically warned by his good friend the fairy. He allowed
himself but one glance, which sufficed to convince him she resembled
exactly the charming princess he had so often seen in his dreams, and
which had like to have proved fatal. Then shutting his eyes, he
advanced backward, sword in hand, toward the enchanter, who at the
first moment he saw him, began those mysterious wavings of the hand
with which he was wont to put his victims to sleep, and those
cabalistic words which changed men into beasts, insects, and reptiles.
But the prince having his eyes shut, and his back toward him, could
not see his motions, and the enchanter being horribly affrighted, as
well as naturally a great blockhead, was so long in recollecting the
formula of his incantation, that the prince, seeing by a sly glance
over the shoulder, that he was sufficiently near, suddenly turned
round, and with one blow severed his head from his shoulders. Then
catching it before it fell to the ground, he threw it into the great
kettle that hung boiling over the fire. He was just in time, for
Curmudgeon had got to the last but one of his cabalistic words, and in
a single instant more, Prince Violet would have been changed into a
cabbage. No sooner was the head thrown into the kettle, than the water
began to hiss and foam, and blaze up in spires of blue sulphureous
flame, until finally the kettle burst into a thousand fragments, and
the head disappeared up the chimney. Then the phantom beauty, uttering
a shrill, dismal scream, melted into air--and the enchantment was
dissolved forever. At that moment Prince Violet heard a voice from the
skies, as tuneful as the music of the spheres, saying, "Well done, my
prince, the death of the wicked enchanter was necessary to the
recovery of thy lost gold-fish--for while he lived thou wouldst never
have seen it again. Go on--thy destiny ere long will be accomplished."
A strain of aerial music succeeded, which gradually faded into
whispering zephyrs, bearing on their wings the mingled perfume of a
thousand flowers.
The prince took possession of the castle by right of conquest; and
when the people over whom the enchanter had reigned with a cruel and
despotic sway heard of the gallantry with which he had rid them of
their tyrant, they gathered themselves together, and with one voice
chose him for their king.
Prince Violet proved an excellent sovereign; but, though he made his
subjects happy, he partook not in what he so freely bestowed on
others. The recollection of the little gold-fish, and of the beautiful
princess he had so often seen in his dreams, was ever present, and
poisoned his days and nights with perpetual sorrows. Though courted by
King Grabyall, and all the surrounding potentates, who had grown up
daughters, he declined their advances, passing most of his leisure
hours in wandering along the river he had followed in his journey, and
which flowed just at the foot of the terrace of his stately castle. He
remembered that it issued from the aperture through which he had
emerged from the crystal basin, and constantly fed his sickly fancy
with the hope that the little gold-fish might have vanished in the
same direction. If so, it was probably still in the river, if it lived
at all; and he was perpetually bending over the stream, watching the
gambols of the finny tribes, to see if he could not detect among them
his lost wanderer.
One day having rambled much further than he had ever been before in
that direction, he perceived in turning a sharp angle of the river, a
noble marble villa, which had never attracted his notice before. It
basked its white, unsullied beauties on the bank of the murmuring
stream, and its turrets rose from out a sea of green foliage that
almost hid them from sight. Led by curiosity, or rather by his
destiny, he approached the building by a winding walk, that seemed
almost a labyrinth, now bringing him near, and anon carrying him to a
distance, until tired at last, he stopped, and rested himself under
the shade of a stately beech, that spread its broad arms afar, and
afforded a delightful canopy. Here, gazing around in listless apathy,
his attention was attracted by the letter V, carved on the smooth
bark, and environed with a chaplet of violets, underneath which the
motto, "Forget me not," was cut in graceful letters. While pondering
on this rural emblem of constant love, he was startled by a low and
plaintive female voice chanting the following simple strain, with the
gentle pathos of chastened sorrow:
"Forget me not! forget me not!
Pale, withered leaf, in which I read
The sad, mysterious, lonely lot
By cruel fate for me decreed.
"Pale, withered leaf, you mind me now
Of him whose gentle name you bear,
Whose lips once uttered many a vow,
In breath more sweet than violets are.
"Oft would he take me in his hands,
Oft hide me in his throbbing heart;
Oft kiss my eyes with words so bland--
Was ever scaly imp so blessed;
"I joy'd his wasting form to see,
His stately beauties fade away;
'T was wo to him, but bliss to me--
It made him sad, while I was gay.
"But I shall never see him more,
Nor share with him my life's dear lot;
Sweet youth, whose memory I adore--
Forget me not! forget me not!"
These words, sung to a sweet, melancholy melody, equally excited the
sympathy and wonder of the prince. The idea of a young lady being
delighted at seeing the face of her lover wither, and his body waste
away, he thought did little credit to the heart of woman; and that
what made him sad should make her gay, appeared to show a great want
of sympathy. As to the "little scaly imp," he could make nothing of
it. Still there was that in the song which seemed to bear some strange
allusion to his own peculiar situation; and his curiosity became so
excited, that without reflecting on the impropriety of his conduct, or
its consequences, he, as it were, impelled by an involuntary yet
irresistible impulse, advanced in the direction whence the voice
proceeded.
Passing through a long winding avenue bordered by beds of violets, and
overshadowed by lofty trees, he at length came to a bower of
clambering vines entwined with each other, at the further extremity of
which, seated on a bank of flowers, he beheld a female figure, her
cheek resting on her hand, and tears flowing from her eyes. He gazed
on her face, which was turned toward the heavens, and shuddered as he
recognized an exact likeness of the phantom beauty he had seen at the
side of the enchanter's chair. He sought to retreat, but continued to
advance by an irresistible impulse, until the lady, at the sound of
his footsteps, looked toward him. The moment she saw the prince she
uttered a piercing shriek, at the same time rushing forward with
extended arms, and a face glowing with joyous welcome. Then, as if
suddenly recollecting herself, she hastily retired, and sunk down on
the seat, her cheek glowing with blushes. The prince continued to
advance, controlled by an influence he could not withstand, and coming
up to her, apologized as well as the confusion of his mind would
permit, for his unceremonious intrusion.
The lady remained gazing at him, with mingled smiles and blushes, for
a few moments, and then addressed the prince in words that seemed to
come from a mouth of roses.
"Don't you know me, my prince?"
"Know you," faltered he, "I believe--I fear--I know you but too well.
You are the phantom beauty. The chosen instrument of the wicked
enchanter, Curmudgeon."
"Alas! no. I am no phantom, nor, I trust, an instrument of mischief at
least to you. The phantom was formed in my likeness, because--because,
as the enchanter confessed, he could create nothing so beautiful as
myself by the utmost exertion of his arts."
The prince gazed at her in a trance of admiration, for never, with the
single exception of the phantom, and the idol princess of his dreams,
had he seen a being so enchantingly lovely. The lady received his
scrutiny with smiles of modest pleasure, and at length repeated her
question--
"Do you not know me, my prince?"
The prince emboldened by her smiles, or impelled by his destiny,
seated himself by her side, and gazed ardently, yet wistfully, in her
face. There was something in the expression of her eyes he fancied he
had seen before, but when or where he could not call to mind. At
length the lady, compassionating his perplexity, again anxiously
asked--
"Do you remember a certain little gold-fish?"
"Remember? I shall never forget," and his eyes glistened.
"Do you remember how you used to come to the crystal basin, at the
foot of the shining cascade, and stay all day long fondling a little
gold-fish, kissing its eyes, and hiding it in your bosom?"
"Remember!" cried the prince, "the recollection constitutes the hope,
or rather the despair, of my life. Would that I could see my dear
little companion again. Methinks I should then be happy, or at least
die content."
"Look in my face--look steadily," replied the lady, greatly agitated.
Their eyes met, and that look of mutual intelligence which never
deceives, disclosed the mystery. He recognized at once that glance of
mingled love and gratitude he had so often seen beaming from the soft
expressive eyes of the little gold-fish. He started from her side,
threw himself at her feet, and exclaimed--
"Tell me--tell me! art not _thou_ my little gold-fish?"
"I am," rejoined the lady. "Once thy little gold-fish, now thy
faithful and devoted handmaid, the Princess Violetta. It is to thy
constancy I am indebted for the recovery of my former self; and such
as I am, I will be to thee what thou choosest to make me."
"Mine forever! my beloved, my adored wife!" cried the prince, as he
folded her in his arms, kissed her as he was wont to do the little
gold-fish, and at that moment reaped the reward of all his sufferings.
After enjoying the first delights of mutual love, the princess said to
him, "Doubtless you are anxious to know how I came to be transformed
into a fish; and I will tell you now, that there may be nothing to
explain hereafter. I must begin early, for my misfortunes commenced
almost at my birth. I am the only child of King Grabyall, in whose
dominions you now are; and according to the universal custom of all
royal christenings, a great many fairies were invited to mine, and
some few vulgar things came without invitation. Among the latter was
an old fairy, so ill-natured and malicious, that, though very powerful
to do evil, no one would pay her the least attention; for they knew
that no kindness could conciliate the wicked old creature. Of course,
neither my father nor mother paid her the least attention, or made her
presents; and no one spoke a word to her, at which she flew into a
great rage, and went away shaking her wand, and mumbling in a spiteful
manner, 'Well, good people, you are all mighty silent now, but before
long you shall have talking enough, I promise you!'
"Everybody laughed at the spiteful old woman--but it was no such
laughing matter, I assure you, my prince; for she was hardly out of
sight, when, to the astonishment of the whole court, I began to talk
with such volubility that nobody could keep pace with me. First I
scolded the nurse, then abused the fairies, and finally took my
parents to task roundly for attempting to stop me. The courtiers tried
to persuade them that this was only an omen of my precocious genius,
and that, beyond all doubt, I should one day become the wisest, most
eloquent princess in the world. But they remembered the threat of the
malicious old fairy, and became exceeding sorrowful. As I grew up my
volubility increased; I talked from morning till night, and all night
too. Sleeping or waking, it was just the same; and my voice was so
loud and shrill that it could be heard all over the palace. What
rendered the matter still worse, I was exceeding ill-natured,
satirical, and witty, insomuch, that all were afraid to come near me;
and I was obliged at last to talk to myself. It is necessary I should
apprise you that I grew up to great beauty, and by the time I was
sixteen, many of the neighboring princes came to pay their addresses
to me. But I never gave them an opportunity, for before they could
open their lips, I poured a torrent of satirical reproaches in their
ears that struck them all dumb; insomuch, that it was said some of
them never recovered their speech afterward. Do you not hate me, my
prince, for being such a termagant?"
The prince, to say the truth, was a little startled at this detail,
but replied with a look that was perfectly satisfactory; and the
princess proceeded with her story.
"At the age of seventeen, the enchanter, Curmudgeon, incited by the
report of my beauty, came to pay my father a visit--my mother being
long since dead. He at first sight fell violently in love, and
demanded me in marriage of my father, who, though a kind-hearted, good
man, was, I believe, heartily glad to get rid of me, but at the same
time frankly apprized him of my infirmity. 'O, ho!' answered the
enchanter, 'never mind that--I shall soon cure her, I warrant you.' He
then approached to make his declaration, when, being exceedingly
provoked at his slighting expressions, which I had overheard, I gave
him such an explosion of satire, spleen, and ill-nature, as he had
never probably heard before. I ridiculed his pretensions, scoffed at
his person, despised his offers, and defied his power, until he could
stand it no longer. Stamping his foot on the floor, waving his hand,
and muttering some cabalistic words, he at length cried out in a rage,
'BE DUMB FOREVER! or at least till such time as some prince shall be
fool enough to fall in love with you, and pine away until he makes no
shadow in the sun.'
"At that moment I found myself changed into a gold-fish, and swimming
in the crystal basin where you first saw me. How long I remained there
before you made your appearance I cannot tell, but I know that I was
heartily tired of my loneliness, and at first felt the loss of speech
very severely. I rejoiced when I first saw you. Your caresses
penetrated my heart, and--you must forgive me, my dear prince--but
when I beheld you wasting away daily, and knew it was for love of me,
my happiness grew with your sorrows, for I felt that my deliverance
was at hand, and that I should live to reward you for all your
sufferings. The day the sun first shone full into the crystal basin,
and I saw that you cast no shadow there, you may remember, I suddenly
darted from your hand and disappeared. It was very ungrateful, but I
could not resist my destiny. I was instantly transformed to my
original likeness, and--but don't be alarmed, my prince, for I assure
you my propensity to talking was effectually and forever repressed, by
the long habit of silence I had preserved as the little gold-fish. I
was received by my father with affectionate welcome, and--and what
else shall I say? I have mourned your absence day after day, until I
almost ceased to hope that I should ever see you again. But," added
the princess, with a look of unutterable tenderness, "thou hast come
back once more to me--thou hast sought and found thy little gold-fish,
and I am happy."
The prince had scarcely time to return suitable acknowledgments, and
vow eternal love, when they were roused by the sound of the hunter's
horn, announcing the return of King Grabyall from the chase. The
princess introduced him to the prince; and his majesty being in high
good humor, having been very successful that morning, beside having
an excellent appetite for dinner, received him most graciously. The
ardent prince lost no time in declaring his love; and King Grabyall,
knowing that he had been chosen to govern the territories of the
enchanter, Curmudgeon, beside inheriting all his vast riches,
graciously consented to the marriage. He did this the more willingly,
knowing from late experience that the princess, having fulfilled the
denunciation of the malicious old fairy, had survived her infirmity.
There was never in this world such a splendid and happy wedding; and
what added to the pleasure of all parties, was seeing the good fairy,
Violetta, enter the superb saloon to honor the ceremony.
"Welcome, my prince," said she, holding out her little, delicate hand,
"I congratulate you; you have triumphed by valor and constancy."
When the ceremony was over, the prince inquired anxiously whether she
knew aught of his father, and was informed that he had married the
daughter of good King Doddipol, and was wasting his substance as fast
as possible, by giving _fêtes_ to the bride, and lending great sums to
his father-in-law. Prince Violet sighed at the fate of the Old Man of
the Hills, but in good time forgot all his griefs in the arms of love
and beauty.
The Princess Violetta made a most excellent wife, and never afterward
talked more than became a reasonable woman. The wicked giant, who, it
should have been premised, had been extricated from the moat, and
finished his fit of sneezing, being freed from the diabolical
influence of the enchanter, Curmudgeon, took the pledge, became a
tetotailer, and lived ever after an example to all overgrown monsters,
past, present, and future.
THE VESPER BELL.
BY PARK BENJAMIN.
How deep and mournfully at eve's sweet hour
The bell for vespers chimes its holiest note,
When the soft twilight lends its soothing power
And on the air a silence seems to float!
The weary wand'rer knows a home of rest,
He toils not now who toiled the livelong day,
Friends cherish fondest recollections, blest
With thoughts of them whose love cannot decay,
The best affections of the heart are told,
We greet with joy our dear, domestic hearth,
And think how strong the viewless bonds that hold
Unwearied love to transient things of Earth.
And visions of his lyre the poet sees
At this lone time of Nature's sweet repose,
When fancied music, borne on every breeze,
Æolian-like, with thrilling sadness flows.
Oh, then move thoughts, the holiest and best,
O'er the soul's calm and mild serenity,
Like beauteous birds that skim along the breast
Of the still waters in some waveless sea.
Where that deep bell sends forth its solemn tone,
How many worship at Devotion's shrine!
How many voices rise before the throne
Whence the bright glories of the Godhead shine!
Not when the glories of th' opening day
With crimson blushes usher in the dawn,
Not when the noontide pours its deepest ray
On forest, glade, blue lake and emerald lawn;
Not when the moonbeams shed their silvery light
In richest lustre over copse and dell,
Come sainted hopes, sweet dreams and fancies bright
As when through shadows sounds the Vesper Bell.
THE TEACHER TAUGHT.
BY MARY S. ADAMS.
"Three months' imprisonment! Heigho!" soliloquized Harvey Hall, as he
entered the school-room, and surveyed the array of seats before him.
"Well, poverty is a crime punished not only by one's state and
country, but by the whole world. Here am I longing for a profession
which shall give some play to my mind, which shall enable me to take a
stand among men; and now to purchase that profession I must 'teach
young ideas' till the requisite sum is obtained. The daughters of
Darius were condemned for the murder of their husbands to fill leaky
vessels in Tartarus--that is, they became teachers! It is hard that
those who have neither _been_ nor _murdered_ husbands should endure
like punishment."
Harvey Hall always spoke the truth, albeit sometimes the truth a
little _swollen_; so he was, as he said, condemned to a temporary
reign over children and spelling-books, in order to pursue his
studies--for the expenses of which the limited finances of his parents
would not suffice; and he had taken the academy at L., with the due
announcement of all his qualifications in the county newspaper.
"Some bright faces here," thought he, as his eyes glanced over those
of his scholars upturned to him, and rested on one with eyes bright
enough to light Cupid on his way to any untenanted heart, but bearing
the expression of smothered mirth, never relished by those who do not
happen to know the _mot d'enigme_. Small white fingers traced
something rapidly on the slate, which was then given to a young lady,
who, on the perusal of its characters, gave a stifled laugh, and
buried her face in a handkerchief. But the author of the mischief,
whatever it was, instantly turned to gravity, and met the searching
gaze of Hall with a demure look which amused him not a little.
"That daughter of Parson Hinton finds fun enough in something. I wish
her father could preach her into better behavior. She is the most
troublesome sprite I have in school. Young ladies," he said, assuming
all the dignity of his position, "less whispering, and more attention
to your studies would conduce to your improvement."
Annie Hinton and her chum took their books, and were soon apparently
absorbed in them. Annie met with some question she could not solve;
and taking her book to the teacher, she asked an explanation. It was
given.
"And you made an observation just now, sir, which I wish to remember.
Will you be so kind as to repeat it," she added, bending toward him
with the greatest mock attention and deference.
It is said that the worst reception of a compliment is to request its
repetition; and the remark is just as applicable to a reproof.
Certainly Harvey Hall found it so. Impudence he could have met
successfully; but there was something in the arch air of respect, so
evidently assumed, and in the polite tone accompanying bright eyes
which _would_ almost laugh out, which told him that the present scene
would figure in some after frolic formidable enough to young gentlemen
who are never proof against the ridicule of mirthful girls in their
teens. He longed to laugh with her at it all, but an assembled school,
a roguish scholar, would not exactly admit of this; so, coloring a
little, and then provoked at himself for the _gossiping_ blood which
betrayed his inward embarrassment, he said,
"Oh, merely that study is more appropriate to the school-room than
amusement. I shall be happy to have it dwell in your memory and
practice, Miss Hinton."
Annie bowed gracefully, gravely, and turned away, but not before Hall
mentally resolved never to admonish her again if he could avoid it.
When the day for compositions came--that bore which all parties would
gladly overlook instead of look over--Hall, dreading trite essays on
all the hackneyed themes of school, told the misses under his charge
to write on any thing that interested them--they might describe some
of the manners and customs among them.
"But we have _no manners_, and very few customs, Mr. Hall," said
Annie.
"Well, select any subject that pleases yourself, Miss Annie."
The composition was on Dignity, and was so ludicrous, so _personal_ a
description of it, that Mr. Hall was fairly puzzled. What shall I say
to this merry damsel, who seems to turn into sport all I say or do. I
cannot correct her.
"Miss Hinton, carry this home to your father, and see if he says it is
a proper article for you to bring in as a composition."
The next day it was returned with, "My father thinks Dignity one of
the finest things he has ever seen," she said, half hesitating, as if
unwilling to utter such praise, but looking as if all the spirits of
fun had taken the opportunity to look out of her eyes. Of course, her
reverend parent had never had a glimpse of it--and this her teacher
very well knew.
But why watch her with more interest than all the "well behaved" of
his school? In accordance with Scripture, he left the ninety and nine
just ones, to search for the one who went astray. The lessons she
recited had for him a double interest; the days she was absent were
like the dull, gray sky of autumn--nay, several times he even
acknowledged to himself that teaching was _not_ the dull routine he
had supposed, and the term of his probation had not the leaden wings
he had anticipated.
But there was an apprehension to disturb the tenor of his thoughts,
and fall heavily upon his official capacity. He had--yes, he certainly
had seen Annie Hinton receive a billet from Charles Lane; and Charles
Lane was a bright youth--a fine scholar--ready to enter college the
next term--and just her age. It was wrong, decidedly wrong, to have
any silly flirtations between mere boys and girls--he had always
considered it so; but now it was wonderful to see how strong his
reasoning, and firm his opinions were on this subject. And personal
experience _has_ an extraordinary power in giving edge to moral
reflections; how it draws them out of the shade, concentrates and
clinches them.
Well, Harvey Hall felt really grieved that scholars should have their
attention drawn away from their studies by such nonsense as a
children's love affair. Charles Lane was a promising boy to be sure;
but he must go through college, and be settled in life before he ought
to think of fancying any one. He might become dissipated--such bright
boys often did; or fickle--in short, no one knew which rein of his
character the future might pull. And Annie--pretty creature--who could
not pass a day without some mirthful episode, how ridiculous for a
child like her to think of selecting a lover! her mind was not
disciplined at all--her taste not pronounced; she might make a
different choice when she really knew her own wishes, and had seen
more of the world. It would be wrong to entangle herself with any
passing fancy like the present--really wrong to suffer a child to make
a decision by which the _woman_ must abide. And then the good minister
would be shocked to see his plaything, Annie, forming any foolish
attachment. Yes, he must do all he could to prevent it. But how could
Parson Hinton be so blind? The other evening when he called there,
Charles Lane knocked at the door, to bring a slip of geranium, which
he had walked several miles to get for Annie; and the old gentleman
only said, "You are very obliging, Charles--drop in and see us often."
So strange, not to know it was just like such precocious youths to
fancy themselves in love with every pretty girl. So laws were enacted
stricter than those of the Medes and Persians, against all billets
passed in school; as if Cupid, had he made the essay, would not have
delighted to jeopardize all regulations, and fly in the face of all
laws.
One day as Mr. Hall was ascending the steps to enter school, he saw
Annie give Charles Lane a knitted purse, and heard her say something
about "the phillipina." As I said, he was _principled_ against such
interchange of sentiment, or gifts, between such children; but the
present instance did not come precisely under his dominion, being
_out_ of school--and he entered upon his duties with a somewhat cloudy
brow. Every one has observed how much the sky of his feelings
influences the earth of reality. If one wakes "out of tune" in the
morning, the events of the day seldom harmonize him. Let you walk out
in a city, feeling blue and burthened, and how many things conspire to
annoy you. You are blinded by dust, or contaminated with mud, or the
snow slumps, or your feet slip at every step; a child is almost run
over in the street; people jostle rudely; the bell tolls; the
town-crier seems to scream at every corner where you turn; the lady
you particularly admire is talking with vast animation to ----, and
does not even perceive you; a bow thrown away; Mr. Lawkens, the deaf
man, will cross over to speak to you, but cannot hear your answer,
although you have repeated it the third time; a gust of wind blows off
your hat, and a bore holds you by the button to tell you, what you
well knew, the election has gone against your favorite candidate;
while you inwardly exclaim, "misfortunes never come single."
Our pedagogue had a hazy atmosphere around his spirit this day--and
nothing cleared it. The recitations were miserable, and the boys full
of pranks--which boys are heir to; the girls were any thing but
book-intent. The class in chemistry was called, and as Mr. Hall was
performing some experiments on the apparatus, he said,
"Now, when I apply this, you will see that--it wont go," he added, as
the desired result, from some cause, failed.
"Certainly, we see it," smilingly whispered Annie to the next on her
seat.
The sound reached Mr. Hall, already mortified by the failure of the
experiment.
"Miss Hinton," he exclaimed, in a loud, stern tone, "take your books,
and go home."
Annie looked surprised, as well she might, and waited, as if to be
sure she did not misunderstand him. The attention of the school was
roused--there could be no revocation--so the mandate was repeated, and
obeyed.
Poor Hall! his chemical manipulations were no more successful that
day; classes were called, and heard at random. The small scholars
thought "it was a grand time--master did not seem to mind them;" while
older ones wondered at his unwonted humor. Meanwhile his reflections
were any thing but agreeable. How could he have been so harsh for such
a trifle, and ungentlemanly too. All Annie's faults were the mere
exuberance of a joyous spirit; and she was quick to acknowledge and
regret them; and yet he had not expostulated, but abruptly commanded
her to leave. How she must despise him! And she had a great deal of
sensibility; he had seen the color suffuse her face, and the tears
glisten in her dark eyes, when a tale of sorrow or delicious poem had
excited her emotion. Perhaps she was at that very moment weeping at
his harshness; and then proofs of interest in _him_, albeit she was a
laughter-loving spirit, stole over his memory. He thought of an
evening he had lately passed at her house, when his conversation
seemed to rivet her attention, although he afterward heard her say,
"There! Mary Jane has a party to-night, and I entirely forgot it until
too late. Well, I have enjoyed myself better here." And _he_, the
ingrate! how had he returned it, by unwarrantable rudeness! She was
just beginning to talk to him with confiding frankness of her books,
her tastes, and opening to _his_ study a mind as well worth it as the
changing loveliness of her face--when this folly had destroyed it all.
And what would the good minister say? He who had received him so
kindly; so hospitably told him to come to him at any and all times
when he could be of assistance--what would _he_ say to have his pet,
at once his amusement and pride, turned out of school like any common
urchin?
Oh! how the hours of school dragged. Every moment seemed to bear a
weight of lead, and carry to the luckless teacher a thousand arrows
poisoned by self-reproach. No sooner was his fiat of release obtained,
than with mingled regret and apprehension, he wended his steps to the
parsonage. He knocked at the door, desired to see Mr. Hinton, and was
accordingly shown up into his study.
"He looks as if something lay on his mind," thought the clergyman, as
he saw him enter, and advanced to shake hands with him. "Perhaps he is
considering the concerns of his soul. Heaven help me to counsel him
aright!" and there was an unusual kindliness in his tone, as he urged
him to be seated, which was "heaping coals of fire" on the head of the
conscience-stricken teacher.
A pause. "I am--I have called--I regret--"
"Ah, yes," mentally ejaculated the old man, "he feels the burden of
sin, and is under conviction, I see--"
"In short, sir, I am sorry to trouble you at this time, but I--"
"Speak out freely, my dear young man," said his benignant listener.
Is it possible he does not know what has passed?
"I regret to say that, vexed by the inattention of the scholars, and
by whispering, in which Miss Annie joined, I hastily told her to leave
school."
"Told my daughter Annie to leave school!"
The door of the study was thrown open, and Annie danced into the
middle of the room, her bonnet hanging on her arm, flowers in her
hair, and a bouquet in her hand, fresh from the woods in which she had
been rambling. "Father! father!" she stopped, and gazed first at her
father, and then at Mr. Hall, with a mingled expression of regret and
surprise. Her long walk that afternoon had given her a heightened
color; and the varied feelings which moved her were clearly depicted
on her face.
"Come here, Annie," said Hall, extending his hand, "come here, and say
you forgive the rudeness of this afternoon." She hesitated an
instant--the crimson deepened on her cheek, and the lip slightly
trembled; then looking up with one of her own radiant smiles, she gave
her small, white hand to the teacher.
Not long after he made another visit to the good minister's study,
not, indeed, to ask forgiveness for turning Annie out of school, but
to beg permission to transplant her one day to a home of his own.
Whatever was said, we suspect Annie might have served as "an instance
in point" for that rather broad generalization of Swift,
"No girl is pleased with what is taught
But has _the teacher_ in her thought."
"Young gentlemen," said Harvey Hall, (Judge Hall then,) when some
years afterward two or three of his law students were spending the
evening at his hospitable mansion, "young gentlemen, never regret the
necessity of exerting yourself in order to obtain your profession; for
beside the habit of _self-help_ thus formed, which is invaluable, you
may," he added, glancing archly at the face, fair as ever, of her who
sat with muslin stitchery by the centre-table, "meet with a wayside
rose as precious as Annie."
THE SUNBEAM.
(FROM THE FRENCH OF LAMARTINE.)
Come! watch with me this sunbeam, as o'er the moss bank green
It glides, and enters swiftly the foliage dark between;
Resting its golden lever, of mystic length and line,
Upon the dewy herbage, in an oblique decline:
Toward its moving column the stamen of the flowers
Whirl, as by strong attraction; and through the daylight hours
Gay insects, azure atoms, with every-colored wing,
Swim 'mid the light, still lending fresh sparkles as they spring.
See! how in cadenced measure they gravitate below,
Now linking, then unlinking, in quick, harmonious flow;
Of Plato's worlds ideal the semblance here appears,
Those worlds that danced in circles to the music of the spheres:
So small is every atom, amid yon countless band,
That hosts of them were needful to make a grain of sand;
They form the lowest step of that brilliant ladder trod,
Ascending from the light mote to the all-present God.
And yet a separate being exists in every part,
Within each airy globule there dwells a beating heart;
One world, perchance, presiding o'er worlds unnumbered, free,
To which the lightning's passage is an eternity;
Yet, doubtless, each enjoying, within their drop of space,
Days, nights, in all fulfilling their order and their place;
And while in wondrous ecstasy, man's throbbing eye looks on,
A thousand worlds are ended, their destinies are won!
O God! how vast the sources which feed such life and death,
How piercing is that vision which marks out every breath;
How infinite that Spirit which cherishes each grade;
And more than all, how boundless that love, free, unrepaid,
Which nurtures into being each particle that floats,
Descending from far sun-worlds to microscopic motes;
O God! so grand and awful in yonder little ray,
What thought dare seek to fathom the blaze of thy full day?
MARY E. LEE.
THE ISLETS OF THE GULF;
OR, ROSE BUDD.
Ay, now I am in Arden; the more fool
I; when I was at home I was in a better place; but
Travelers must be content. AS YOU LIKE IT.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "PILOT," "RED ROVER," "TWO ADMIRALS,"
"WING-AND-WING," "MILES WALLINGFORD," ETC.
[Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by J.
Fenimore Cooper, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the
United States, for the Northern District of New York.]
(_Continued from page_ 293.)