Early one evening in the autumn of ’64, a pale girl stood singing
Methodist hymns at the summit of Bush Street hill. She was attired,
Spanish fashion, in a loose overcoat and slippers. Suddenly she broke
off her song, a dark-browed young soldier from the Presidio cautiously
approached, and seizing her fondly in his arms, snatched away the
overcoat, retreating with it to an auction-house on Pacific Street,
where it may still be seen by the benighted traveller, just a-going for
two-and-half-and never gone!
The poor maiden after this misfortune felt a bitter resentment swelling
in her heart, and scorning to remain among her kind in that costume,
took her way to the Cliff House, where she arrived, worn and weary,
about breakfast-time.
The landlord received her kindly, and offered her a pair of his best
trousers; but she was of noble blood, and having been reared in luxury,
respectfully declined to receive charity from a low-born stranger. All
efforts to induce her to eat were equally unavailing. She would stand
for hours on the rocks where the road descends to the beach, and gaze
at the playful seals in the surf below, who seemed rather flattered by
her attention, and would swim about, singing their sweetest songs to
her alone. Passers-by were equally curious as to _her_, but a broken
lyre gives forth no music, and her heart responded not with any more
long metre hymns.
After a few weeks of this solitary life she was suddenly missed. At the
same time a strange seal was noted among the rest. She was remarkable
for being always clad in an overcoat, which she had doubtless fished up
from the wreck of the French galleon _Brignardello_, which went ashore
there some years afterward.
One tempestuous night, an old hag who had long done business as a
hermitess on Helmet Rock came into the bar-room at the Cliff House, and
there, amidst the crushing thunders and lightnings spilling all over
the horizon, she related that she had seen a young seal in a
comfortable overcoat, sitting pensively upon the pinnacle of Seal Rock,
and had distinctly heard the familiar words of a Methodist hymn. Upon
inquiry the tale was discovered to be founded upon fact. The identity
of this seal could no longer be denied without downright blasphemy, and
in all the old chronicles of that period not a doubt is even implied.
One day a handsome, dark, young lieutenant of infantry, Don Edmundo by
name, came out to the Cliff House to celebrate his recent promotion.
While standing upon the verge of the cliff, with his friends all about
him, Lady Celia, as visitors had christened her, came swimming below
him, and taking off her overcoat, laid it upon a rock. She then turned
up her eyes and sang a Methodist hymn.
No sooner did the brave Don Edmundo hear it than he tore off his
gorgeous clothes, and cast himself headlong in the billows. Lady Celia
caught him dexterously by the waist in her mouth, and, swimming to the
outer rock, sat up and softly bit him in halves. She then laid the
pieces tenderly in a conspicuous place, put on her overcoat, and
plunging into the waters was never seen more.
Many are the wild fabrications of the poets about her subsequent
career, but to this day nothing authentic has turned up. For some
months strenuous efforts were made to recover the wicked Lieutenant’s
body. Every appliance which genius could invent and skill could wield
was put in requisition; until one night the landlord, fearing these
constant efforts might frighten away the seals, had the remains quietly
removed and secretly interred.