A solitary wild swan may be seen on Loch Oich. It has sailed there for twenty or thirty years, in summer and winter. It had a mate, but about twenty years ago the master of a trading vessel (more wantonly barbarous than the Duke of Cumberland when he burned the old castle of Inverrgarry,) shot the bird. The Glengary swan, however, kept its solitary range. Last winter three other swans lighted on the lake; they remained a month or two, and it was thought the recluse would depart with them, but it had apparently no desire to change its wonted station. As swans have been known to live upwards of a century, we hope this faithful bird will escape accident and cruelty, and live through two or three generations more, to grace the shores of Loch Oich.
Inverness Courier.
ELIZA.
Maine.
Otto Venius, the designer of “Le Theatre moral de la Vie Humaine,” illustrates Horace's “Raro antecedentem scelestum deseruitpedepœnaclaudo,” by sketching Punishment with a wooden leg.
NO. I.
NO. I.
ULEA HOLSTEIN—A TALE OF THE NORTHERN SEAS.
ULEA HOLSTEIN—A TALE OF THE NORTHERN SEAS.
When I was at Nantucket last summer, trying the virtue of sea-bathing and sea-breezes, for a wearisome chronic disease, I used to resort to every imaginable form of innocent recreation, as a relief to the pain and ennui occasioned by my bodily indisposition. One day, as I was sitting on one of the rocks which project into the sea, observing the multitude of fishing craft that were plying about the island, my attention was arrested by the very remarkable appearance of the commander of a large whale ship. His figure was not strikingly tall or robust; but there were an energy and determination in his look, that seemed to turn his every sinew into iron; while, upon a closer observation, one might read in his upright and noble countenance, a soul of high moral bearing, and a mind unruffled by the passing vexations of life. Such a person always awakens interest, however transiently we may pass him; and although we may not stop, at the time, to define our sentiments, we are struck with something like veneration and awe, when we behold in the midst of hardship, toil, and danger, the tranquillity which marks a mind superior to the accidents of life. But this was not all. One acquainted with human nature, might see under this stern exterior, the generous nature, which would scorn to trample on the weak, or pass by the suffering. I was irresistibly drawn to make some acquaintance with this mariner, but found some difficulty in framing any excuse to accost one of appearance and accent so foreign. Accident soon accomplished the introduction, for which I had taxed my ingenuity in vain. In attempting to descend from my eminence, my decrepid limbs refused their office, and I fell headlong on a shoal of rocks, among which I was scrambling with much pain, when I felt myself raised gently, but powerfully, by a muscular arm. I turned in my distress to see by what kind hand I was assisted, when the eye of the hardy seaman met my inquiring glance. Pity and benevolence shone on his countenance, and I felt even in that moment of corporeal suffering, that the kindred tie of man—yes, of friendship, united us. His first words struck me as being of foreign accent, but his language was that of sympathy, which is read by all nations, and now flowed warm from the heart. After placing me comfortably on the sand, he hastened to his boat lying near, to bring some restoratives in which sailors have much faith. I was soon relieved by his attentions, and desiring to make some return for his kindness, inquired to whom I was indebted for assistance, and in what manner I could show my gratitude. To this the stranger replied, that the action itself brought sufficient reward, since he had been able to relieve a fellow creature. Our acquaintance began from this time, and I gradually drew from him a history of his past life, which had been one of trial and adventure. His narrative was given in our own language, which he spoke very intelligibly, having been long conversant with our seamen.
“In early life I lost my parents, who resided in one of the trading ports of Denmark; and with them perished my fair hopes of ease and affluence. When about nineteen years old, my independent spirit, being no longer contented to owe a scanty maintenance to my paternal relatives, I joined a whaling company, that were fitting out for a voyage in the Northern Ocean. My feelings, when I had resolved to bid farewell, probably forever, to all the scenes of my childhood, and break the ties that bound my youthful heart, to home, friends, and country, and to embark in the adventurous and toilsome life of a whaler, were melancholy enough and calculated to daunt the heart of the bravest; but the desire of independence nerved my courage, and I embarked in a whale ship manned by six men, and accompanied by three other vessels of larger size. The captain and half the hands had made the cruise before with great success, but the rest of us were raw recruits, and suffered much from the hardships of our new mode of life. We steered directly towards the northwest, intending to put in at the Shetland Islands, and wait for the breaking up of the ice at the north pole, when the whales are most abundant, following the increased flow of the tides. We hoped to encounter many of these monsters between these islands and Iceland, where the plan was to refit and spend a part of the summer in preparing our freight to take home. But how uncertain are human calculations! Our voyage was prosperous even beyond our hopes, for some time; we passed the stormy isles of Scotland in safety, and rode the blue billows of the Atlantic, looking ahead with great anxiety for the objects of our cruise. A few days only had elapsed, when some of our experienced harpooners saw tokens of one at a distance, and all hands were set to make ready. It is impossible to describe the excitement this notice produced, in minds so weary of the dullness of inaction, as ours were. The enormous animal was now manifest, from the whirlpool he had created around him. Our boats did not venture near until his frolic was over, and we saw his broad back even with the water. And now the skilful seamen with unerring aim darted the harpoon, and away launched and roared the whale, making the ocean heave with his throes; but our darts were in him, and after he had tried our cable's length several times, he was exhausted and became an easy conquest. This seemed a glorious achievement to me. I was so completely enraptured with the bold and perilous excitement, that I lost all the tender recollections of home, and desired only to be a renowned whaler. Our successes continued, and we mastered several whales, before we were warned that we were coming upon the region of ice. This was indicated by a hoarse crashing sound and a wide heaving of the sea, as if some body of tremendous dimensions had been thrown into it. Our commander feared we had delayed too long, and gave orders to make speedy sail for our destined port. For some time we made good headway, and all hearts were cheered, when, on the utmost verge of the horizon, we discerned the faint outline of land, which we hoped would prove to be the coast of Iceland, for which we now steered with all our press of sail. But just at this time, while we were making observation in the direction of our course, a moving mountain hove in view; at first like a cloud resting on the water, but soon the wary eye of the fisherman saw it fraught with danger, and with dread. An iceberg! an iceberg! and the panic ran through all the ranks, for our course was right in the track of thehorrific apparition. To recede was impossible, as the wind would be against us; our utmost exertions were strained to clear the passage in time, for before it heaved a mountain of waters, and behind it yawned a devouring gulph. The three hours of intense interest and uncertainty which passed, seemed like one moment drawn out to eternity. But we did clear its track so as to receive only a slight shock. As soon as the danger was over a reaction followed, almost too great for human nature; our nerves from being strained to their utmost tension, were suddenly relaxed to the weakness of infancy; our first desires were for stimulants which threw us into wild excitement; and our ships exhibited one scene of revelry and recklessness. In this situation we rushed unconsciously on a reef of rocks from which escape seemed impossible. We were already in pitchy darkness, driving among the breakers, which we heard with still greater force roaring ahead. It evidently appeared that we had forsaken our passage, and were on an unknown coast where shipwreck and death awaited us. This was the situation of our ship; we could not hear a sound from the other vessels amidst the roar of waters, but we supposed that they also were beating on rocks from which it was impossible to move them. Daylight only was necessary to confirm our despair, and its first rays shone on a scene of horror too great for utterance. We beheld our ship just in the jaws of destruction, while the other three had cleared a passage, and were free of the rocks, but dared not come within the force of the breakers. In vain we held out the signal of distress; in vain they lowered their boats and attempted to stem the whirlpool. Instant destruction would have been their fate. I saw my companions clinging to the broken masts and spars; but I made no effort: I sunk under the impending weight of that power whose bounty and mercy I had forgotten or despised in my days of prosperity, and whose incensed justice and vengeance I was now to feel.
“In this state of mind, I rose up and looked calmly upon the raging deep, feeling that the ‘sweat of its great agony’ was tranquillity to the vortex that awaited me. One after another of the men were carried off, as the ship split to pieces, but I remained, with two others, on a part of the bows, which seemed rivetted to the rock. I thought a few hours at most must terminate our existence, as the waves were gaining upon our remaining planks. My fellow sufferers clung to life with the tenacity of drowning men; they ascended our quivering mast, to see if any human habitations were discernible on this unknown coast, but nothing was visible but a girdle of steep rocks. While they were straining their vision, and in the wildness of desperation piercing the loud clamor of the waters with their shrieks, three little specks appeared in the direction of the shore; they gradually came nearer, until we perceived they were fishing-boats, each guided by two men. My companions besought me to unite with them in making every possible signal of distress. Our signals were understood, and we soon saw that their object was to rescue us, for they held out a token of recognition, and rowed fast until they came within the whirl of the tides, which obliged them to fall back and try another channel. We could distinctly see that they were baffled in every attempt and almost ready to abandon us; when one of their number, with skill nearly superhuman, darted his boat between two pointed rocks, in so narrow a passage that we expected to see it dashed to pieces every moment. But his fearless courage bore him through—the next instant he sprung on our shattered planks, drew a few hurried breaths, and then informed us, in the dialect of our own land, that they had seen our signals while out fishing, and had come to our relief; but at the same time told us of the danger we must run of being dashed to pieces, in attempting to steer through the breakers. ‘But,’ said he, ‘we will trust in God and do our best; keep up a good heart, I will lash you firmly to the boat, and if you will put your hope in the Almighty Deliverer in time of peril, I will try to save you.’ He then looked fixedly in our faces to see whether we agreed to the conditions; my companions without hesitation answered, that they would venture; death was inevitable if they remained. But I, though fearing death most of all, could not resolve to feign, what I did not feel,trust and hope in God;on the contrary, I felt that his every attribute was justly arrayed against me. In anguish, I exclaimed, ‘leave me to perish, God is my enemy—I shall sink from this gulph into a lower.’ ‘Sinful dying man,’ he said, ‘would you set bounds to the mercy of the Lord? Cry, rather, Lord, save me or I perish, for now is the accepted time, this is the day of salvation.’ I caught the inspiration that glowed on his tongue—I seized his hand, saying, ‘I am ready.’ In a few moments his little boat was amidst the boiling surge, sometimes lost in the tumultuous waves, but the mariner grasped the helm with a firm hand, and shot through the jagged rocks with the rapidity of lightning. Our deliverance was hailed by the other boats with a shout of joy, which was returned by us with all our remaining strength. Our kind deliverers perceiving our bodies and spirits exhausted by the combined suffering of fear, cold, and hunger, cheered us with the warmest expressions of sympathy, and the hope of speedily enjoying all the comforts of their hospitable homes. They steered their boats into a little sheltered bay surrounded by overhanging hills. As we approached the shore, they informed us that it was the coast of their own dear Iceland, whose snow-capt mountains and green valleys, they would not exchange for any other spot in creation.
“As I breathed its pure atmosphere, and pressed the young verdure which was just appearing from beneath the mantle of snow, which had shrouded it for many long months, I felt as if I were treading the unsullied shores of a better world. Our good fisherman conducted our failing footsteps over the wild and slippery rocks into a beautiful valley. The frosts which had locked up nature during the long winter, had yielded to the influence of the returning sun, which sent the rejoicing current through the veins of every living thing. The stunted trees put on their garniture of green in token of joy, the lichens and mosses brightened in the genial ray, and all blended in a smile of love and gratitude. We reached the cottage of the fisherman, sheltered by overhanging rocks on one side, from the icy winds; and were welcomed by its inmates with the looks and offices of kindness. They consisted of a mother and three children. The countenance of the former, notwithstanding the national peculiarity of features, was pleasing, expressing both intelligence and benevolence.The oldest of her offspring was a girl of extremely prepossessing appearance. You would not, perhaps, in your country, call her beautiful, for she had not the slender figure and the delicate features which you associate with the idea of female loveliness; but the laughing blue eye lighted up with its beam, a face which seemed the mirror of her heart; her cheek was now mantled with rosy smiles, now moistened with the tear of sympathy or affection. Her hair was light, scarcely tinged with the sunny glow, but it was in unison with her fair complexion, and curled slightly around a neck of transparent whiteness. Her age might be fourteen, but there was so much childish gaiety in her manner, that you would have supposed her much younger. Her brothers were manly, noble looking boys, several years younger than herself. Never shall I forget the compassionate look with which the matron placed a seat near the warm fire, while with gentle voice she chid the curiosity of her little group, saying, ‘the stranger is cold and tired, and we must do all we can to make him comfortable.’ They instantly retreated—but the two oldest hung over her shoulder, earnestly whispering in her ear. I guessed that I was the subject of their discourse, by hearing the mother reply in a low voice—‘Yes Ulea, you may run and milk Minny, and Korner, get the potatoes ready, and the fish too. By the time you return, he will be dry and warm, I hope.’ With delighted countenances, they shot out of the cottage, and the good woman busied herself in mending up the fire, and spreading a couch of soft skins, on which she invited me to rest my weary limbs. I attempted to speak my gratitude to heaven, and to her, but the words were stifled by the strength of my feelings, which gushed out in tears. She seemed to understand the nature of my emotions. Her tone was soothing and encouraging. ‘God is good,’ she said, ‘and not only saves us in perils, but provides a table in the desert. He puts it in the hearts of strangers to show kindness, and makes us feel that we are all brethren, the children of his care and bounty.’ ‘How,’ said I; ‘in this remote spot of creation, have you learned these heavenly precepts?’ ‘Our lives,’ she answered, ‘are crowned with blessings, and the greatest of all is, that of our dear missionary, who guides our erring footsteps in the way of duty, as he points our hopes to a brighter world.’ While she was speaking, Ulea returned, exclaiming, ‘Ah! mother, Minny seemed to know how much haste I was in, for she stood right still; and here is Korner too, with the fish and potatoes—let us set the dinner for the poor stranger.’ In a few moments the repast was on the table, and I had scarcely taken the seat provided, before my young hosts pressed me to eat of one and another dish, telling me that ‘this was the richest milk because Minny gave it, and these fish were taken by Korner's green rocks.’ I had scarcely finished a hearty meal, when Holstein (for that was the name of the good fisherman) came in, attended by our other deliverers and my two comrades, who having received their hospitality, came with them to consult whether any attempt could be made to save what remained on the wreck. Holstein thought it probable no vestige of the wreck itself was left. But the other fishermen said it might have drifted over the rocks, and still contain something valuable. Under this possibility we followed our conductors to the scene of destruction; but we found it as Holstein had predicted; only a scattered plank here and there marked the place of ruin. Emotions of awe and gratitude filled my soul, when I beheld the vortex from which heaven had rescued us; but my fellow sufferers evinced mortification and disappointment, when their last hope was extinguished, and they saw themselves thrown on the charity of strangers, even for a change of raiment. This was particularly observable in the manner of Osman, a young adventurer, who had joined our expedition from a romantic turn for novelty and excitement. He was a singular compound of opposite qualities; sometimes exhibiting the hardihood and bold daring of his father, who was a Dane, then all the impassioned sentiment joined with the frivolity of an Italian, which he was on his mother's side. Since there remained nothing more to feed this adventurous excitement, his mind seemed to dwell on the loss he had sustained, particularly that of his wardrobe and musical instruments. Notwithstanding the occasion, which was fit to call forth only feelings of a solemn nature, I could not help being interested for him, when I heard him bewailing the loss of these resources of dress and music.
“His person was very striking, calculated to engage the attention of a stranger. A tall and graceful figure was united to a face of perfect symmetry, over which the light of full dark hazel eyes shone in alternate fire and softness. Until this time I had only observed him under passions of another kind, and was astonished at the pathetic strains in which he mourned over the extinction of his prospects. The fishermen endeavored in their sincere but homely language to comfort him, proffering the only help in their power—a share in their fishing spoils and a passage to Denmark, when another whaling expedition should visit the island. His youth and apparent sensibility interested us all in his favor, and induced us to do all in our power to promote his happiness.
“It was concluded that we should each remain with our hosts, and assist in such labor as we were able to do, in making preparations for a fishing cruise. I became more and more attached to the dear members of Holstein's family. Their daily avocations were simple and homely, but their minds were pure and elevated, deriving their highest enjoyments from the contemplation of a better world.
“Ulea engaged much of my interest. She was at that most pleasing of all ages, when we see the simplicity of childhood blended with the thoughts and reflections of a riper age; when the heedless word is followed by the conscious blush, and we love while we rebuke the tongue that speaks all the heart feels.
“Time glided pleasantly away, even in Iceland. We spent the evenings and inclement days in cheerful recreation, or in reading; which is a great, and almost universal resource among these Icelanders: it is thus they pass their long wintry nights—one ‘making vocal the poetic, or historic page.’
“Osman became our constant and welcome visitor. He constructed an instrument, on which he made very sweet music; and frequently sung the sentimental airs of his country. This, joined to his talent for wild and impassioned recitation, charmed the listening ear of all, but it vibrated to the heart of Ulea. Her delight did not show itself like her brother's in noisy ecstacy, buther eyes filled with tears, and her heart throbbed with silent emotion. ‘Mother,’ she would say, ‘Osman's singing reminds me of what I have heard about the harps of the angels.’ ‘It is pretty, my child, but I had rather hear the fisherman's welcome home.’ ‘That, mother, is because our father sings it. But when Osman sings I think of a happier world than this.’ ‘You are mistaken, my dear, if you think Osman's songs have any thing good in them. I have listened to them, and I think they are only calculated to make people discontented with what God has allotted them, and to fill the mind with foolish fancies.’ ‘Ah! mother, how can you wonder that his songs are melancholy, when he is far away from all that he loves, and that he has nothing to console him for the beautiful world he has left! You know he loves to climb our steep rocks, to see the sun go down behind Hecla. I did not know how grand our volcano could look, until he pointed to it, as the sun's last beams rested on its snowy scalp. Then he told me of Italy his country, where the mountains are crowned with snow, while flowers blow in the valleys—birds sing in the branches of trees, which bear golden fruit—the air is filled with the fragrance that breathes from the vineyards, and the bowers that never wither. Then there are temples in every grove, and the ruins of ancient cities, which people come to visit from every country. Do you wonder that he was happy in that lovely land?’ ‘No doubt, the inhabitants have much to be thankful for; but not more than we have. Would you, Ulea, be willing to exchange our own loved island for Italy, with all its charms?’ ‘No, dear mother, but I only wish Iceland was like it.’ ‘This is a vain, and I fear a sinful thought, and I shall tell Osman, when you walk with him again, to talk of something more profitable.’
“The fishermen were generally occupied in building or refitting boats for the approaching expedition, in which they were assisted by our hardy comrade, while Osman and myself were left to occupy or amuse ourselves as we chose. I remarked the gradual influence he was gaining over the unconscious heart of the young Ulea. I mourned over it, for I feared that he was incapable of a deep and lasting attachment. I saw that her family were blinded by their artless confidence, to the insidious poison that threatened to destroy their happiness. I could not bear to be the first to interrupt their peace. What should I do? I revolved in my mind the whole affair, and at last resolved that I would watch the conduct of Osman narrowly, and without being suspected, penetrate the secret of his soul. With this design I mingled more frequently in his pleasures, joined the little circle when he descanted on the scenes of his early life—beautiful Italy! whose charms were always associated with female loveliness, whose atmosphere breathed of love. This was the theme of his glowing narration, and his dark eye seemed to catch inspiration from the kindling blush of Ulea. After he had sung one or two of the most melting Italian airs, I was roused from my ruminating fit by Ulea's remarking—‘Steinkoff has grown very silent of late. Osman's songs, I believe, make him sad.’ ‘Quite otherwise,’ I replied, ‘and if he will listen, I will sing a song of the olden time myself.’ They exclaimed in one voice, ‘he will, he shall!’ ‘No need for compulsion,’ he said, ‘I will hear it with pleasure.’ Without prelude I began—
I kept my eye on Osman: I wished to read his conscience. As the strain proceeded, his glance met mine; he saw my suspicions. Conscious that they were well founded, his countenance fell—he bit his lip in anger, and revenge fired his blood. Far differently was the innocent heart of Ulea wrought on. ‘I could weep,’ she said ‘for the poor maiden. Who would have thought the fair spoken knight would be false? But I hope it is only a tale of the olden time, fair and false as the lover of whom it sings.’ ‘It may be so,’ I said; ‘but let it serve as a warning to young maidens, how they listen to tales of love.’ Osman left the cottage while I was speaking. I saw the dark cloud lower on his brow, and I resolved to bring him to an acknowledgment of his passion, while he was under the influence of resentment—an unguarded hour with us all. I found him walking hurriedly, and muttering the words, ‘Villain, he shall pay dearly for this insult.’ I accosted him in a calm voice. I told him that my design was not to irritate or insult him, but to warn him in time of the danger of a passion which was growing upon himself daily, while he could not be insensible to the influence he was gaining over the affections of an unsuspecting girl. ‘And how does it concern you, cold hearted wretch,’ he exclaimed, ‘that I have excited the sympathy, the love of the only amiable being on this desolate island? Know, that love scorns the interference of such meddlers. It is enough that we can trust each other, and woe be to him who gives his counsel unadvisedly.’ With these last words he raised his arm in menace. ‘Osman,’ I replied, ‘you know I am superior to your threats. Unless you openly declare your love to the parents of Ulea, I shall consider myself bound to guard her from your arts.’ ‘Beware,’ he exclaimed, ‘how you injure me with her, or this dagger drinks your blood.’ Saying this, he strode away, and I returned with a heavy heart to the cottage. Not that I was personally afraid of Osman; I never feared the arm of man: but I had atrying office to perform—to destroy the confidence of an amiable family, to show them that they had cherished in their bosoms a serpent, instead of a friend. It was evident that Osman wished to conceal his passion even from her who was the object of it. I determined before another interview, to endeavor to awaken her to the impropriety and danger of giving any encouragement to his attentions. The following day he did not come as usual. ‘How long the day seems,’ said Korner, ‘when Osman does not come. Ulea thinks so too, for she has not spoken a word to-day.’ ‘I have been thinking,’ replied Ulea, ‘that he looked last night as if something disturbed him. Did you observe him, Steinkoff? I hope nothing has happened.’ I said in a low tone, ‘Nothing, I believe. Suppose we walk: perhaps we may meet him.’ She sprang forward, animated with the hope; and we followed the winding path by which he generally came. I proposed that we should see which of us could first attain the top of a picturesque eminence which hung over our path, and from which there was a fine view of the neighboring cottages. She readily consented to make the trial, and arriving at the goal first, exultingly chid my loitering steps. She little knew that my real motive was to obtain a private interview with her. I began by saying, ‘Osman's gait is fleeter than mine, Ulea.’ ‘O yes,’ she said, ‘I shall never forget the charming evening we came here together;’ and a bright smile irradiated her features. ‘His society is fascinating, but it may be dangerous to you. Already he has given you a distaste to the pleasures of your childhood, and he has presented in their place the attractions of an ideal world. Beware how you lend your pure and unsuspecting ear to the seductive charms of his conversation. He has confessed to me that he loves you; that you are the only being in this island that has power to interest him.’ ‘Oh! Steinkoff, ought you not rather to pity than to blame him? He has told me, that were it not for me, he would end his miserable existence—that every one else looks coldly on him. How can I think unkindly of him? He would protect me against all harm. When I told him of my cousin Ormond, who would not go into the far Greenland seas, until my father promised him that his little pet Ulea, should be his when he returned, he only said, May that day be distant, for then you will not care for Osman. And he asked me if I should be quite happy when I should be Ormond's wife.’ ‘And what was your answer?’ I asked anxiously. ‘I did not answer at all; because I have not seen him for a long time, and he seems like a stranger to me—I wish not to think of it now.’ I could no longer repress my indignation. ‘My dear girl,’ I said, ‘trust Osman no further, he will destroy your peace, your innocence. I know him well; for present gratification he would not scruple to involve your whole family in wretchedness. I say this, because I will not see impending ruin coming on the child of my benefactor, if I can avert it.’ I saw Ulea start, while surprise and terror were painted on her countenance. I turned to ascertain the cause, and beheld Osman within a few steps of me. ‘Wretch,’ he cried, ‘have you dared to betray me? Revenge has nerved my arm, and my sword shall drink your blood, even were the form I love best between us.’ At that instant he rushed upon me; but fury blinded his sight, and his weapon missed its aim. This redoubled his wrath; he prepared for another thrust, and my superior muscular strength could not have saved me from the mortal stroke, had not Ulea in a phrenzy of despair, thrown herself between us, and received in her side the stab that was intended for me. Time can never efface the horror of that moment, when I saw her fall under the murderous stroke, and the red current pouring from her side. ‘Monster!’ I exclaimed, ‘you have verified your threat. Would to God, this were my heart's blood instead of hers!’
“I raised the lifeless girl—I pressed her to my bosom. In the agony of my soul I entreated her to speak—to say that she forgave me. But all was silent, save the ebbing pulsations of her heart. Osman had fled the moment he saw what he had done. How should I obtain assistance, or even get a little water to revive her, if life was not extinct? Necessity is fruitful of invention—I lifted the pale form, and hastened to a near rivulet—I bathed her temples—I staunched the blood with the cooling current, and bound the wound with my handkerchief. I heard a faint sigh—I thought it was her last. Imagine my joy, when she opened her eyes, awaking as from a long sleep. I whispered, ‘Speak not, it will exhaust you; I will carry you home—you will soon be better.’ She cast her eyes towards heaven, to signify that her home would soon be there. I was advancing with a quick step, when I heard the voices of the children in search of us. They stopt their merry gambols, and stood in amazement. I broke the silence by telling them that Ulea was very ill, that they must run home and tell their mother not to be alarmed, but endeavor as soon as possible to prepare a cordial and a bed, for I should reach the cottage in a few minutes. I hoped this would be some preparation for what was to follow. The mother met me at the door, with a look of anguish and of doubt. I motioned to her to be silent, while we administered some of the restorative: we then laid Ulea on the bed. I watched by her a few moments, and seeing she had fallen into a gentle sleep, I took the hand of the agonized mother, whose suppressed sobs shook her whole frame. I supported her to a retired spot, where the burst of her grief might be unheard by the languid sufferer.
“I paused to gather firmness for the disclosure; I lifted up my heart to heaven for assistance. She seized my hand convulsively—‘Tell me all—but my heart anticipates it before you speak. Oh Steinkoff! it is the hand of man, yes, of a trusted villain, that has dealt the blow. My soul has labored under a mysterious weight this day—unseen but impending evil hung over me. Oh my God! prepare me to drink the bitter cup, and to trust in thee though thou slay me.’
“I related all—my suspicions of Osman—my conversation with him, the threat he had given, and then all the incidents of the sad catastrophe. ‘Oh my child!’ exclaimed the transported parent, ‘art thou then guiltless? has he not laid mine honor in the dust? If not, I can bear all.’ I concluded by encouraging her to hope the wound was not mortal, and that speedy medical aid might relieve it.
“Korner was immediately despatched for his father, and the nearest physician. We then returned to Ulea, whom we found still sleeping, but uneasily. Her mother kissed her forehead; she waked smiling, and said, ‘Oh, mother! are you here? I thought I was passing through a dark valley to the bright world you have sooften described to us. And I was not at all afraid, for a light guided me safely through. Do you know what it was?Ido—it was whispered to my heart—it was the Saviour's presence! Mother, you must not weep; I rejoice, because I feel that it will be so. O! yes, I shall soon join the song of the angels—much sweeter than that I used to dream of. Mother, my heart is sinful—I loved to hear of the beauty and love of this world; but that is all passed away now. I hope God will forgive him who wished to lead me astray—and you, Steinkoff, my guardian angel on earth, with what joy shall I welcome you there.’ She saw my emotion—it excited her own: the effect I dreaded followed—the blood gushed out from her side, and she swooned away.
“Her father arrived, attended by the doctor; the last with heartfelt sorrow assured us, that all attempts to revive her were useless—that the slumber of death was even now on the gentle girl. The father, in his desolation of soul, sought the throne of mercy, and we united in committing the spirit of the beloved one to the Shepherd of Israel, and prayed that ‘his rod and staff might comfort and support her.’ Her freed spirit winged its flight, just as the sun's last rays gleamed on her pillow, which all with uplifted hearts blessed as the omen of that spirit's future happiness.
“We sorrowed, but not as those without hope. What saith the scripture? ‘The hope of the righteous is as an anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast.’
“I assisted in depositing the beautiful clay in the earth, and planted over it the evergreen fir. It was a dear spot to me, and as long as I remained on the island I resorted to it, to commune with the image of her who was once the animating spirit of all that surrounded me.
“Soon after her death, an opportunity offered for my return to Denmark. I embraced it, promising, if circumstances should ever induce me to visit Iceland, that I would seek the hospitable mansion of Holstein. I never saw Osman again, but I was told by the owner of a boat on the coast, that he had been seen on the night of the fatal encounter, to leap into a fishing craft lying on the beach, and disappear.
“Thus I have given you some particulars connected with my past life. I have rushed into busy scenes—I have tried to forget my own sorrows in relieving the distresses of others—but in vain; the image of that bleeding form haunts me. I long for the hour when the kind hand of death shall blot the recollection forever from my memory.”
V.
Lines suggested on viewing a Painting of a Female laughing.
Lines suggested on viewing a Painting of a Female laughing.
E. M.
To a northern traveller in the southern states, there is scarcely any thing more novel or entertaining than aCourt Day. Familiar as the occasion and its scenes may be to a Virginian, there is something in the whole aspect of this monthly festival which rivets the attention of a stranger. And I have not been without my suspicions that the influence of this custom and its adjuncts upon society, manners, and character has never been appreciated. In our northern country there are no occasions upon which the whole population of a county, even as represented by its leading freeholders, convenes at one spot. County courts are attended by functionaries, litigants, and very near neighbors, but not, as in the south, by the gentry and yeomanry of a whole district.
The consequence of such an arrangement as that of the south is, that all the landholders and gentlemen of a neighborhood become mutually acquainted, and lay the foundation for friendly and hospitable reciprocities, which may be continued through life. The whole texture of society has a tincture from this intermingling. It is undeniable, that while aristocratic family pride, and chivalrous elevation of bearing, exist no where in greater vigor than at the south, there is a freer intercourse on the court-house-lawn between the richest planter and the honest poor man, than is ever witnessed in the manufacturing districts of Connecticut or Pennsylvania. This constant mingling of the aged with the young, tends to keep up national characteristics and to perpetuateancient habits and sentiments. And let an old-fashioned man be allowed to whisper in the ear of this innovating age that all is not antiquated which is old, and that the hoary stream of tradition brings down with it not onlyprejudices, but wholesomepredilections.
To enjoy a genuine and unsophisticated Court Day, one must select a county in the heart of the real Old Dominion, where emigration has not too much thinned the population, nor foreign settlers made the mass heterogeneous. It should be moreover in a region where the increase of villages has not modified the ancient character of the large estates.
I have in my mind's eye the verybeau idealof an old Virginia Court House. The edifice itself is neither large nor lofty, but “time-honored” and solid, and embosomed in a grove of locusts, which at the May Court fill the air with their balsamic odor. The lawn, which surrounds the house and grove, has not the deep green of our northern commons, nor is the earth so perfectly hidden by matted grass, but it is sufficiently soft and fresh to tempt many a group of loungers. But the scene becomes more lively as the day advances. Stalls and booths are rapidly erecting, and wagons of vendibles are disposed in rows; no doubt by pertinacious wanderers from New England. The porches of two or three plain-looking stores are filling rapidly with visiters who are arriving every moment. A northerner is amazed at the number of equestrians, and the ease and non-chalance with which even little boys manage their spirited horses. I must pass a thousand traits which in the hands of Irving or Kennedy would afford a tempting picture. The cordiality of greeting with which Virginians meet is delightful; and from ample trial I am able to pronounce it sincere and available. This heartiness is encouraged by such monthly gatherings. It is vain to object to this vehement shaking of hands and emphatic compellation. As my old pastor used to say, “The form without the power is better than neither;” and as Solomon says, “He that is a friend mustshowhimself friendly.” By the time of dinner, a thousand morsels of business, postponed during the month, have been transacted; a thousand items of precious little family news have been exchanged; hundreds of clusters, under porch or tree, have discoursed of the reigning political topic; or mayhap, the mighty mass has all been moved toward some little eminence to hear the eloquence of a genuine “stump-speech.”
From my very heart, northman as I am, I admire and affect this good remnant of olden time. May no revised code ever disannul it, no sapient convention ever parcel out your counties into little municipal fragments!
I state it as an opinion very deliberately formed in my own mind, after some opportunities of comparison, that the elocution of southern men is more easy, more graceful, more natural, more vivacious, and more pathetic, than that of their northern compatriots. This is fairly to be traced to the influence of such occasions as the one which I describe. The moveable and excitable throng of a court-house-green is precisely the audience which awakens and inspires the orator. The tide of feeling comes back upon him at every happy appeal, and redoubles his energy. It was the Athenianpopulace, who “spent their time in nothing else, but either to tell or to hear some new thing,” (what a picture of a court day!) which made the Athenianorator. The practice of addresses to the literal and real constituency by every aspirant, brings into trial, very early, all the eloquence of the state. The manner of the best models is in some small degree perpetuated. The mere listening to such men as Patrick Henry, and John Randolph, not to mention the living, affords a school of eloquence to the youth of the country, and cultivates the taste of the people. And then in every little group upon yonder green, there is an ardor of conversation on political topics, which, as feeling rises, approaches to the character of harangue. I have never heard the impassioned conversation of southern men, in a tavern or by the way-side, without observing the natural tendency to a higher tone of elocution than would be tolerated in a similar circle at the north.
Whether the practice of “whittling,” during conversation, has any connexion with ease of utterance, is a question too abstruse for my present cursory investigation. The celebrated doctor Rush used jocosely to characterize some of his southern students, by their “R-phobia et Cacoethes secandi.” It may be noted as a token of the “free-and-easy” manner of certain courts, that we have seen advocates whittling during a defence, and judges whittling on the bench.
But finally, and most seriously, I trust no fanaticism of a faction at the north will ever so far prevail against the good sense and sound feeling of the community, as to interrupt the genial flow of hospitality, with which in everyindividualcase I have known, northern men have been received by the gentlemen of old Virginia.