and embarked in a vessel that was going to the coast of Africa, as if
thinking that the farther he got from his home, the greater would be the
chances of his finding the bird of promise. After reaching the land, he
roamed about from place to place, till nearly all his money had gone,
and yet no richer or wiser. Multitudes of birds of every shape and hue,
daily passed before his eyes. At last he fell in with a company who were
crossing the desert in a caravan, and many strange sights were seen by
Mozam. Nothing awakened his wonder so much as the gigantic ostriches
that ran much swifter than horses over the sands. “Surely,” thought he,
“what creature is more capable of revealing any knowledge or mystery to
man than this--what bird could be one-half so wonderful; this must be
the creature that is to exercise such an influence over my fortunes.”
But yet nothing occurred, day after day, to confirm his hopes of their
being able to assist him, though hundreds of them passed daily before
him.
But one day, one of these creatures who seemed very tame, came near the
caravan, and allowed itself to be fed, caressed, and petted by the
company, which excited much wonder; but above all, they were surprised
at finding a string hung with bits of gold and shells about its neck,
and no one could explain this strange problem. But Mozam, although he
kept his convictions secret, was satisfied in his mind as to the meaning
of it. So in the morning before any else were stirring, he stole off to
the inclosure where the animal had been confined, and mounting upon its
back, he let it go free. It flew off with such speed that he could at
first hardly contrive to hold himself on; but by degrees he became
accustomed to its motion, and maintained his seat. To say that he felt
no fear, while this immense creature was sweeping along with him over
the trackless wastes, would be untrue; but he felt quite sure that it
was sent as the harbinger of his good fortune, and that the gold around
its neck was a sure indication of its being able to conduct him to a
mine of that precious metal. So, blinded by ambition to the danger of
his situation, he continued on till the ostrich ran with him into a camp
of Bedouins, from whom the bird had wandered; a set of wild people, the
very last whom Mozam would have desired to have encountered; and from
whose mercy he had so little to hope. He looked every moment for them to
strike him dead, but instead of this, they only amused themselves in
tormenting him to see him writhe, which was almost worse than death. As
these people subsisted upon raw flesh and roots, he was almost starved,
and as they were constantly fighting with other barbarous tribes, his
life was all the time in danger. Here was a fine end to all his
ambitious schemes, and he had plenty of leisure and cause to repent his
early misconduct. He had brought ruin upon his own head. So miserable
was he among these barbarians, he was several times on the point of
making way with himself. He continued in this miserable state of
existence, till at last, tired of carrying him about with them, these
people sold him as a slave to the Barbary States; and here let him
remain, while we continue the history of Sadoc.
It will be remembered that with the money that he had saved he purchased
a small lot. On digging, it was found to contain a quarry of valuable
stone, which he immediately set about getting out in order for sale, and
it yielded such a quantity, and sold at so high a rate, that he soon
began to be a capitalist, and able to enter into speculations, which,
proving successful, he soon found himself above want, and in time became
the largest landed proprietor in the country. He now built a fine
mansion where his father’s old cottage, which was pulled down, had
stood, and married a lady as wise and prudent as himself, and with as
noble a family of children around him as one could desire, he enjoyed as
great an amount of happiness as generally falls to the lot of man. The
fame of his benevolence spread abroad, and he was more respected for
his integrity than any other person in the country. Notwithstanding all
the honors that were showered upon him, he never forgot his duty to his
poor old uncle, who used to sit, as he had ever done, in the warm
chimney-corner, the long winter days and nights, and doze away his life
with the old speckled hen, who was aged like himself, in her nest beside
him.
During all this long time he had heard nothing from his brothers, and
often wondered what had become of them, and which of them had found the
bird, according to his father’s prediction.
One evening about this time, at the entrance of the town where Sadoc
resided, a poor sailor was seen coming wearily along. He sat himself
upon a stone, and seemed overcome with his emotions. The tears stole
down his cheeks, and he looked as if he could not advance a step
further. While he sat there, another traveler, in very nearly the same
plight as himself, came up with him. The last comer was a tall, dark
man, who seemed to have been bronzed by exposure to the sun. Seeing
each other in a like sad condition, they entered into conversation; then
at last it came out they were the brothers, Obed and Mozam, one of whom,
worn out with voyaging, had left his vocation of mariner to find an
asylum in the poor-house of his native town; the other, who had escaped
from slavery, and toiled his way along on foot for miles and miles, was
coming for the same purpose. They rushed into each other’s arms, and
shed tears of pity at the sorrowful case in which each found the other,
and then, feeling not quite so lonely, they went on together into the
town. They bent their course toward the spot their boyhood had known so
well, where the old cottage had stood. In its place was a splendid
mansion, at which they gazed for a few moments, and were about to turn
away, when a friendly voice hailed them, and arrested their retreating
footsteps; and when they said that they were travellers, without food or
place of shelter, they were led into an apartment where a warm fire was
blazing, and were requested to seat themselves while a servant should
procure them some food. Obed started back in amazement as he caught
sight of a figure seated in the chimney-corner, and exclaimed, “My poor
old uncle, yet alive and here.” Mozam knew him at the same time, and,
turning round as the master of the house entered, recognised in him
Sadoc, their brother (for he had not changed half as much as
themselves), and whispered his discovery to Obed. They consulted apart,
and feared to reveal themselves lest he should spurn them on account of
their poverty, their former misconduct, and his present grandeur; but
ere long their feelings overpowered them; they fell down at his feet,
and asked his forgiveness and his pity.
Sadoc, though at first he could hardly believe that this poor worn
sailor was his brother Obed, and still less that the dark and haggard
man was the once handsome Mozam, yet he was convinced of the truth. He
pardoned them freely, and wept tears over their misfortunes, and
promised them they should never want a home while he was able to give
them one. All night long Obed and Mozam sat by the fireside recounting
their adventures to their brother, and at last, when they had told all,
Sadoc spake, and said, “How strange that the prophecy of our father
should not yet have been fulfilled; the wonderful bird has not been
found.” At this the old uncle, who had all the while been dozing in the
corner, suddenly roused up, and said, pointing to the old hen beside
him, “This is the wonderful bird, and the founder of your good fortune,”
and directly relapsed into his stupor. The truth then flashed upon the
mind of Sadoc, and when he related to his brother the history of the
hen, it was as clear to their minds as to his own, that it was to her
that his father’s prediction related, and that this was the bird that
was to bring such riches to the family. They saw that honesty, and a
careful attention to duty, was more likely to bring a man to prosperity
at last, than roguery and selfishness. But, as they had paid so dearly
for their early misdemeanors, they were permitted to enjoy rest in the
house of Sadoc, where they recovered in some degree from the effect of
their hardships and sufferings, and were contented and happy. As for the
old uncle, he died shortly after this; and the old speckled hen about
the same time departed this life; but Sadoc never forgot his gratitude
for her services, though he lived to a great age.
IX.
THE MERMAID AND HER CHILD.
A mermaid was sporting on the surface of the ocean; in her arms was her
babe, which she nourished at her breast, as a human mother would have
done her own offspring. While she was lightly rocking to and fro, a ship
came in sight, running before the wind, the keel ploughing the white
foam, sails unfurled, and streamers flying. The mermaid knew not what it
was--she thought it might be a huge sea monster; never before had she
seen aught like it, for her home was in those unfrequented seas, which
the ships of men have not explored. She gazed awhile on it in wonder,
retreating, but with her eye still fixed; while thus lost in
astonishment and awe, an enormous shark, that had been watching her,
came swiftly, and snatched the infant from her arms, and ere she was
aware, bore it beneath the surface. The mother immediately dived in
pursuit, but came in sight only in time to see the young one devoured by
a hundred voracious creatures, like that which had torn it from her; and
she barely escaped from them with her own life. In her agony, not
heeding whither she went, all day long she kept in the path of the
vessel, and midnight found her still following it, in a furious storm,
which she fearlessly and stoutly breasted. The sea was her native
element, and the raging of the waters was like music to her ear. At last
shrieks from the ship roused her from the apathy into which her grief
had plunged her, and looking up, she saw the tall masts, which had
seemed to reach the very skies, broken and dismantled, and the vessel
itself about to dash upon the rocks, from which it had no power of
escaping. But ere this, a boat had been lowered, and living beings,
whose forms were wonderful and strange to her, (by the aid of a rope,)
had been let down from the side of the ship, and placed safely within
it. At last a mother and her child together, in descending, missed the
tossing bark, and both fell into the sea. The mother was quickly
rescued, but her babe had fallen from her arms, and sank out of her
sight; and the sailors were forced, notwithstanding the beseeching
petition of the agonized mother, to push off and leave it to its fate,
or the boat, and all in it, would have been swamped in the whirlpool,
which drew in all surrounding objects, as the vessel, which presently
was dashed in pieces, rapidly filled, and sank into the depths of the
ocean. The mermaid saw all, and diving below, she received the babe in
her open arms, and on beholding its beautiful and innocent countenance,
she rejoiced over it, as if she had found a treasure, and tenderly
nourishing it and hushing its cries, she bore it far away to her home in
those unknown seas, from which she had wandered. Here amid the
labyrinths of waters, spring up tiny islands of coral, covered with
verdure, high above the reach of the floods, which dash around them. On
one of these, scarcely larger than the cradle which it was to imitate,
the mermaid made a bed for the little charge, and as in this clime,
“eternal summer reigns,” she left the child sleeping warmly and securely
beneath a large spreading tree, which protected it from the sun, and
fanned its slumbers with broad green leaves, while she sought her
companions and her boy Rosond, whom she found near the spot, and who
welcomed her with joy, after her long absence. Curiously they looked
upon the little daughter with the blue eyes and fair brow; and not
doubting that it was her own infant, born during her absence, they could
but be amazed at its strange form, and in their hearts, pitied the poor
mother, whose little one would undoubtedly soon perish, as it would
never be able, like their own offspring, to paddle about or to live in
the waters without assistance. Little the mother regarded or seemed to
need their sympathy; she appeared quite happy and contented in what they
considered her great affliction; and wondering at her insensibility,
they left her alone with her children.
The little Corala, for so her sea-mother named her, throve under the
watchful care of the mermaid and the boy Rosond, one or the other of
whom was forever with her, bearing her about in their arms on the sunny
waters, or from island to island. Sometimes they would dive with her,
for a moment, beneath the sea, then would hold her aloft, with the water
dripping from her form, at which she would toss her dimpled arms, and
shout with laughter. She soon began to creep about, then stand upon her
feet and move in a strange sort of way; and the mother, trembling to see
her totter, never left her for a moment, for fear of losing her. She was
often thrown into great distress, as Corala, stealing off in spite of
her, would roguishly hide herself among the bushes where her mother and
brother (who could not move at all on land, but were only able to creep
near her, sailing by the edge of the island) could not see her, or reach
her; but as she always presently relieved their fears by returning to
them and throwing herself into their arms, the mother soon began to feel
more confidence in her ability to take care of herself. As she grew
older she was allowed often to venture out of sight, on her promising
to return to them soon; and as no harm ever happened to her, they
frequently bore her from the little isle of infancy to larger
ones--which she explored to their centers; and after having been gone
for hours, would return to her friends laden with berries and fruits,
which she found much more to her taste than the sea-food that had
heretofore formed her nutriment. She learned also in time to swim, where
the waters were not very deep, and used to accompany Rosond on little
aquatic expeditions; though ever when she grew tired of her exertions,
he would carry her in his arms till she reached a place of rest.
By the time that she had reached her thirteenth year she had gone over
all the islands that lay around, and found these fairy realms peopled
with birds and butterflies, and the smaller sort of animals, such as
rabbits and squirrels, who soon came to know her, and to leap in her
pathway without fear. She moved about among them like a queen amid her
subjects; and, like a queen, indeed, she looked, for on her brow she
wore a diadem of precious gems, which Rosond had brought from the
depths of the ocean. Her robe, like that of the mermen and mermaids
around her, was made of the variously and gaily-colored seaweed, which
formed a silken scarf for her shoulders, and a petticoat, reaching just
below the knees, such as was generally worn by these people of the
waters, which left her fair arms and gleaming feet bare in their beauty.
Thus shining and sparkling in the sun, she would sit on the shore and
arrange the beautiful flowers, with which the islands abounded, into
nosegays of magic grace, to present to such of Rosond’s playfellows as
came to visit him, and the strange little sister, of whom he was so
fond, and with whom he had rather spend his hours than to join them in
their frolicksome sports, chasing the gold-fish through the sparkling
waves, and leaping high in the air, in their wild glee. Rosond loved to
watch the varying expression of her eyes, and ever seemed to regard her
as a superior being; and the mother, too, when the mermen and mermaids
commiserated the unfortunate one who was deprived, by what they
considered her deformity, of many of their sources of enjoyment, felt a
proud and happy consciousness (though she kept her secret to herself)
that her child was one of those immortal natures of whom the sages of
their race had recorded such wonders. Yet her heart began to fail her as
Corala grew to womanhood, and the fear that perhaps the truth might some
day burst upon the mind, whose workings terrified her, unused as she was
to the operations of human reason, and she trembled for the revelations
that such a spirit might be capable of making when it reached its
maturity. As her mind expanded she constantly sought food for its
inquiring activity, and became much interested in the tales of worlds
beyond the waters, peopled by a race of mortal immortals, having
perishable bodies, but spirits that must live for ever; and her brother
Rosond, inspired by her earnestness, became almost as eager as herself
to unravel the secrets of their existence. Yet, whenever in their
mother’s presence they broached this topic, she checked their inquiries
with such an unusual tone of disquiet and sternness, that it had the
very opposite effect on the mind of Corala from that the mermaid
intended, by giving to the subject, by this appearance of mystery, a
peculiar and romantic interest. And, notwithstanding that the theme was
for ever at rest while with the mother, yet, when alone with Rosond,
Corala gave loose reins to her fancy; but, in answer to her questions
and conjectures, Rosond, who had never been allowed by his mother to go
beyond his native seas, could only repeat to her the vague and
unsatisfactory talk of those almost as ignorant as himself.