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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18509-h.zip b/18509-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d71b69 --- /dev/null +++ b/18509-h.zip diff --git a/18509-h/18509-h.htm b/18509-h/18509-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5337901 --- /dev/null +++ b/18509-h/18509-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2103 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Nick Baba's Last Drink and other Sketches, by Geo. P. Goff + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + a[name] {position:absolute;} + + a:link {color:#0000ff; text-decoration:none} + link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:#ff0000} + + table { width:60%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; } + .tocch { text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} + .tocpg {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + + .caption { font-size:small; font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + 0em; margin-right: 0.25em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-top: 0em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Nick Baba's Last Drink and Other Sketches, by +George P. Goff + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Nick Baba's Last Drink and Other Sketches + +Author: George P. Goff + +Release Date: June 5, 2006 [EBook #18509] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK AND *** + + + + +Produced by Stephen Hope, David Edwards, Sankar Viswanathan, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made from images produced +by the North Carolina History and Fiction Digital Library) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<div class="center"><img src="images/image_010.jpg" alt="Cover" width="400" height="526" /></div> +<p> </p> +<h1>NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK</h1> + +<h4>AND</h4> +<h2>OTHER SKETCHES.</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>GEO. P. GOFF.</h2> +<p> </p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="center">Pro captu lectoris habent sua fata libelli.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>LANCASTER, PENNA.:</h3> +<h4>INQUIRER PRINTING AND PUBLISHING COMPANY</h4> +<h3>1879.</h3> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Geo. P. Goff</span>,</p> + +<p class="center">In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. +</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>TO THE</h3> +<h3>"RAYMOND HALL" SHOOTING CLUB,</h3> +<h3>THIS</h3> +<h3>VOLUME IS INSCRIBED. </h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p class="blockquot"><span class="smcap">The kind partiality of indulgent friends having induced me to gather +together these scattered fragments, indited as a recreation for my +leisure moments, I give them thus collected, with the hope that the +same favor will be extended to their imperfections as has so often +been shown to their author.</span> </p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + + + + + + + + +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><td></td><td class="tocpg">PAGE.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#NICK_BABAS_LAST_DRINK">NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK.</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_TRIP_TO_CURRITUCK">TRIP TO CURRITUCK—<span class="smcap">Illustrated.</span></a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_HAUNTED_ISLAND">HAUNTED ISLAND.</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_FAIRIES_OF_WARM_SPRING_MOUNTAIN">LEGEND OF BERKELEY SPRINGS—<span class="smcap">Illustrated</span></a><span class="smcap">.</span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Nick_Babas_Last_Drink" id="Nick_Babas_Last_Drink"></a><span class="smcap">Nick Baba's Last Drink,</span></h2> + +<h2>AND OTHER SKETCHES.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_011_1.jpg" width="400" height="112" alt="Decorative Image" /></div> +<h2><a name="NICK_BABAS_LAST_DRINK" id="NICK_BABAS_LAST_DRINK"></a>NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK.</h2> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 50px;"><img src="images/image_011_2.jpg" width="50" height="50" alt="Dropcap" /></div> + +<p>t was Christmas Eve, and the one narrow main street of a small +country town was ablaze. Extra lights were glowing in all the little +shops; yet all this illumination served only to make more apparent the +untidy condition of the six-by-nine window panes, as well as the goods +therein. Men and women were hastening homeward with well-filled +baskets which they had provided for the festive morrow. All the +ragged, dirty urchins of the village were gathered about the dingy +shop windows admiring, with distended eyes and gaping mouths, the +several displays of toys and sweetmeats.</p> + +<p>Their arms buried quite to their elbows in capacious but empty +pockets, they cast longing looks and wondered, as they had no +stockings, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> where Santa Claus could put their presents when he had +brought them. To all this show and preparation there was one +exception: one place shrouded in total darkness—it was the shop of +Nick Baba, the village shoemaker. That was for the time deserted; left +to its dust, its collection of worn-out soles, its curtains of +cobwebs, and its compound of bad, unwholesome odors. This darkness and +neglect was about to end, however, and give place to a glimmer of +light.</p> + +<p>Nick now came hurrying in and, quickly striking a light, placed +between himself and a flickering oil lamp a small glass globe filled +with water. He sat down upon his bench and commenced work in earnest +on an unfinished pair of shoes. He hammered, and pulled, and +stretched, and pegged, and sewed, and all this time, had there been +any one present, they might have observed that, though Nick worked so +diligently, he was unhappy, and a prey to the bitterest reflections. +All in the village had commenced their merry-making, while he sat +there alone, forgotten, and in despair. His neighbors had plenty—he +was penniless, and could take nothing to his home <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> but regrets for the +past. The rickety old door now creaked on its rusty, worn-out hinges, +and admitted a creature as strange looking as it was unexpected. It +moved straight toward Nick, and perched itself upon a three-legged +stool close beside him. This mysterious thing could not be pronounced +supernatural, and yet it was as unlike anything human as is possible +to imagine. It was more like some fantastic figure seen in a +dream—the creation of a disordered brain. It may be that it was a +goblin—Nick thought it one. It was only about two feet high; a mass +of dark-brown hair streamed down its back, partially concealing a +great hump, and thence flowed down to its heels. Its head was round as +a ball and topped out by a velvet cap of curious shape and +workmanship, with a broad projecting front which shaded a pair of +lustrous red eyes, set far back beneath the forehead—almost lost +there. Its breast was sunken, and the head settled down between the +shoulders, created an impression of weakness, as if, for example, it +should speak, that a small piping voice would come struggling up from +below. Baba looked up with alarm, but the goblin greeted him with a +smile, and said, "Merry Christmas, Nick," in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>deep, strong and not +unmusical voice, which came boldly up and out from its parted lips.</p> + +<p>"How do you know my name?" inquired the cobbler, "and why do you mock +me by such a greeting?"</p> + +<p>"Baba, my friend," replied the Goblin, "I was just thinking that if +all the acts of your life had been as good and as humane as your +mechanical skill is perfect, you would not now be floundering in the +meshes of vice and dissipation. You are making a good pair of shoes +there."</p> + +<p>The shoemaker worked away without raising his head, but responded +spitefully, "Where is the use of making them good?—I get no pay for +them."</p> + +<p>"Why, who," inquired the occupant of the three-legged stool, "is so +ungenerous as to want such shoes without paying for them?"</p> + +<p>"They are," answered the busy workman, "for the owner of this +miserable shanty, and he complains because I am only six months behind +with my rent—a most unreasonable man. If he does not get his shoes +to-morrow, he will turn me out; I must have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>some place to work, and so +am forced to do the bidding of this grasping landlord."</p> + +<p>"Ah, it is you who are unreasoning," exclaimed Baba's visitor, +sorrowfully; "it is you who are in fault. If you would but remain away +from the tavern and the vile associates whom you meet there, all would +be well with you, you might redeem yourself."</p> + +<p>Nick felt this rebuke so very keenly that he turned savagely toward +the one who had dared to tell him so plainly of his degradation, and +demanded. "Who are you, and why have you disturbed the quiet of this +mean hovel to insult me in my misery?"</p> + +<p>"Because I wish to serve you," answered it of the waving brown hair.</p> + +<p>"You cannot serve me. I will drive you out," threatened the now +infuriated cobbler; "I will throw you from the window—I will kill +you."</p> + +<p>The red eyes of the Goblin danced and twinkled in their caverns; a +merry, careless laugh came bubbling forth as it answered, "I will not +leave your shop, nor will you throw me from the window, nor yet kill +me, Nick Baba. Why, you silly fellow, the sharpest tool<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> on your bench +cannot draw blood from me, and that blackened lapstone, if driven with +all the force of your great arm through my seeming substance, would +leave me sitting here still, not to mock, but to try and save you."</p> + +<p>The baffled and stricken shoemaker looked up and muttered. "Then you +are not human, you are a demon. But, after all," added Nick, +softening, "whether you are of this world or of some other, you are +right in what you say."</p> + +<p>The Goblin made no reply, and Nick continued, "I have sunk very low, +indeed, but I cannot shake this habit; it clings to me so firmly, that +I have not only forfeited the regard of my neighbors and friends, but +I even loathe myself."</p> + +<p>"Why not make an effort, Nick? You can if you will."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," responded Nick, "it is easy enough to say give it up, but +you have never felt this accursed appetite for strong drink; this +constant craving for more; this inward sinking sensation, as if the +parts of the body were about to separate, impelling the victim <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>on in a +career of sin and shame. You know nothing of all this."</p> + +<p>"No, I confess I do not," acknowledged the Goblin, "but I think any +man may resist it, if he will make the trial."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you might as soon expect," pursued Nick, "to see the starving man +cast bread from him, as to hope for the drunkard to resist liquor when +the frenzy of this appetite is on him."</p> + +<p>"But you have not tried, Nick."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have tried and failed, and tried again and then failed."</p> + +<p>"Keep on trying," said velvet cap.</p> + +<p>"A glass of liquor," resumed Baba, "is a trifling thing, and it is +very easy, you think, to cast it into the gutter. But I tell you, +whoever and whatever you are, that this sparkling and seductive drink +is the pygmy that binds the giant to the post with a thread, and +lashes him with thongs of fire.</p> + +<p>"Try again," urged the Goblin, "I am sure you can regain all that you +have lost."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> +<p>"No, no," moaned Nick, "I am too low down; I am an absolute slave to +rum."</p> + +<p>"Baba," commanded the Goblin, "take up the shoe you have nearly +finished, look into the sole and tell me what you see there. It is a +mirror of the past."</p> + +<p>Nick took the shoe from the floor and gazed at it intently for a few +seconds. He was agitated, and his powerful breast heaved as only a +strong man may be moved—he wept.</p> + +<p>"What do you see? Speak!" said his tormentor.</p> + +<p>"I see," responded Nick, mechanically, "a scene of seven years ago. It +is the image of a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl before the altar in her +wedding garments. I am there also, vowing to protect her; to stand up +and battle with the world for her; to be a barrier between her and +want. But I have not done it—I have been recreant to every principle +of honor or manhood, God help me."</p> + +<p>"Now, Nick," said the conjuror, persuasively, "pick up the other shoe +and tell me what you see there. That is a mirror of the present."</p> + +<p>"I see," groaned Nick, "in place of that fair-haired <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> girl at the +church, then all happiness, a prematurely old woman, faded and +disheartened. Three ragged children cling to her scanty clothing. They +beg of her mere bread to keep off hunger. She has none to give +them—she draws them closer to her, and folding them in her emaciated +arms, kisses them. She gives them all she has—a mother's love."</p> + +<p>"What more do you see," demanded the magician: "tell it all."</p> + +<p>"Oh! maddening sight," sobbed Nick; "I see myself staggering from the +ale-house and reeling into what should be a home, where gaunt +starvation stalks the floor; where the hearth is fireless, and where a +starving family die upon a pallet of straw."</p> + +<p>"You have seen it all," said the wizard. "It is bad."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and the picture is as true as it is terrible. What demon +prompted you to come here to-night with your diabolical machinery, to +show me to myself so much blacker than I thought I was?"</p> + +<p>Nick's queer little companion peered through the misty, uncertain +light of the cobbler's workshop with his sharp restless red eyes, but +remained quiet.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> +<p>Nick, his head in a whirl of excitement, then placed his face in his +open palms, and resting his elbows upon his knees, looked down at the +floor covered with scraps of soiled leather. Soon these scraps +commenced to move and assume weird shapes. They changed to hundreds of +little red, blue and green devils, no more than a few inches high, +which capered over the floor in troops. They ran up Nick's back, and +hiding in the mass of black hair, twisted and knotted it until their +victim winced, and then with hilarious shouts dropped to the floor and +went clattering away. Returning, they played hide and seek in and out +of the old worn boots and shoes which littered the floor. Then the tub +wherein the shoemaker wet his leather, burst its hoops and the water +ran out over the floor in streams of fire. The light was out and +darkness enveloped Nick and his companion. The wind went howling by, +and flung gusts of hail against the cracked and broken windows. Baba, +shivering from the cold, straightened himself up and looked for his +patron.</p> + +<p>He could not see him, but he did perceive two balls of fire close to +him—the red eyes were still upon him.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> +<p>Nick was thankful even for this, as any companionship at that moment +was better than none. The silence was at length broken by the Goblin +remarking, "You must have passed a fearful ordeal during the last few +moments."</p> + +<p>"Has the time been so short?" inquired Nick; "it seemed almost an age +to me. This is not the first occasion, however, that I have passed +through it, and I fear the time may come when nature will break down, +and then I shall either do myself an injury or harm some one else—I +know it."</p> + +<p>"I hope not," said the wizard. "Good-bye, I must go."</p> + +<p>"Do not leave," implored the half-frightened Baba, "but remain with me +until I have quite finished my work. I believe I am growing to be a +coward, for I dare not be alone to-night. You are such an odd-looking +manikin," continued Nick, "and have spoken so fearlessly to me, that I +am beginning to like you. Do stay."</p> + +<p>"Well," consented the Goblin, "I will remain as long as you wish; my +time is of no value; beside, if I can persuade you to reform and be a +sober man, it will be worth an eternity of waiting."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> +<p>Nick said, "Thank you, I will try," and went on with his work.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke for some time, when Baba suddenly exclaimed, "There, +they are finished at last, and are as good a pair of shoes as man ever +trod in. I suppose now that I may occupy this den for a while longer."</p> + +<p>"Baba, my good man," solicited Nick's friend, "as we are about to +part, will you give me your promise never to drink rum again? You will +then be happy, I am sure."</p> + +<p>Hesitatingly the cobbler agreed that he would not taste the accursed +stuff again; but made it a condition that his new-found friend should +accompany him as far as where he lived in such wretchedness.</p> + +<p>"I have no objection," replied the Goblin, "if you will not walk too +fast, for I cannot keep pace with you."</p> + +<p>"Why, I will carry you," said the grateful Nick, and seizing the +little conjuror in his arms, walked off with him easily.</p> + +<p>When they had proceeded about half the length of the street, at the +other end of which Nick lived, they came to the village dram-shop. +Forgetting all that had passed, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>the willing shoemaker stopped and +listened. He could hear the clinking sound of glasses ringing on the +night air, mingled with the maudlin shouts and songs of his boon +companions. The old feeling returned; he grew weak in his resolution, +and, turning to the Goblin, said, "Just come in and have one drink +with me—the last one." Immediately the imprudent Nick was thrown +violently to the ground, the houses trembled, and their shutters +rattled from their fastenings. The whole town seemed falling into +ruins. Nick was startled into wakefulness, and a sweet, cheery voice +called, "Nick, Nick, are you going to lie in bed all day? It is a +bright Christmas morning and the children are half frantic to show you +the presents Santa Claus has brought them."</p> + +<p>"My dear, are you sure I am Nick Baba, the village shoemaker, and that +you are his wife?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Why ask such a question?"</p> + +<p>"Then I have had a frightfully vivid dream," explained he to his wife, +"for I seemed to have fallen back into my old habits of intemperance +and to have dragged you down with me, where I had hoped never to see +you again."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> +<p>"Nick, dear, it was but a dream. Remember you took your last drink +just three years ago; do you feel strong enough yet to resist it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do; and now that I am sure it was only the nightmare, I will +hasten and join you and the children at breakfast."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/image_024.jpg" width="100" height="55" alt="Decorative Image" /></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_025_1.jpg" width="400" height="98" alt="Decorative Image" /></div> +<h2><a name="A_TRIP_TO_CURRITUCK" id="A_TRIP_TO_CURRITUCK"></a>A TRIP TO CURRITUCK.</h2> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"><span class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"><img src="images/image_025_2.jpg" width="175" height="275" alt="Illustration" /></span></div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p>n a Monday, in the month of November, we started on our annual trip +to the marshes of North Carolina. We left Washington armed and +equipped, and met, at Norfolk, four of our party who had left New +York the previous week. They had been spending a few days in Princess +Anne County, quail shooting, where they had labored hard with no +success to speak of—the birds were few, the ground heavy, and they +quit that locality, perfectly willing never to return to it. They +arrived in Norfolk heartily sick of that excursion. We got the traps +all together <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>and made a start for our favorite sporting grounds; where +the merest tyro may do satisfactory execution, and come in at night +with a keen appetite for the next day's sport.</p> + +<p>While waiting for the quail party to return, we strolled through the +old city of Norfolk, with its quaint houses and curiously-winding +streets, and wandered into the old-time burial place surrounding St. +Paul's church.</p> + + + +<p>This is one of the oldest places of worship in the United States; it +was erected before the Revolution, and is built of imported brick, +laid alternately, red and black. The figures, giving the date of +erection, 1739, are rudely worked into the wall—projecting far enough +to make the design perfectly plain. When the town was burnt by the +British, 1775, only the walls of this sacred edifice were left +standing. The enemy relieved it of a very fine marble baptismal font, +and also of the communion plate, which were carried to Scotland. On +the gable end of the building, still fast in the wall, may <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>be seen a +cannon ball which was fired from the British ship, Liverpool. The +church stands in the customary grave yard of those days, and contains +the remains of persons interred as early as 1700. Near the door stands +the tomb-stone of Col. Samuel Boush, who gave the land on which this +house of worship stands. Many of his relatives also rest there. Some +of the stones, marking places of interment, are covered with mosses +and creeping plants; the inscriptions on others are almost obliterated +by the ravages of time; still others have fallen or been broken, and +now lean in every direction over the last earthly resting-place of +those who thought to tell coming generations who reposed beneath. This +is one of the weaknesses of mankind, but it is vain.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><span class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><img src="images/image_026.jpg" width="200" height="114" alt="ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, 1739." /></span><br /><span class="caption">ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, 1739.</span></div> +<p>Let them pile up costly and lofty monuments—reaching heavenward; let +the artist cut their names and virtues deep into the enduring granite; +let the mechanic, with all his skill, set the foundations, yet the +lettering will perish and the stone will crumble. Parasitic plants +will fasten upon them; beneath their destroying grasp names and dates +will disappear, and generations yet to come will be unable to tell +whether they look upon the grave of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>prince or upon that of a +peddler—the narrow house of him who retired to the straw pallet of +poverty, will not then be known from that of him who reclined upon the +silken couch of affluence—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Death levels all ranks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lays the shepherd's crook beside the sceptre."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"><span class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"><img src="images/image_028.jpg" width="250" height="188" alt="ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, 1878." /></span><br /> +<span class="caption">ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, 1878.</span></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"On it, time his mark has hung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On it, hostile bells have rung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On it, green old moss has clung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On it, winds their dirge have sung;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us still adore thy walls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sacred temple, Old St. Paul's."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> +<p>Our party assemble, and we find the little steamer Cygnet at her +wharf, looking as neat and trim as the graceful bird after which she +is named. Newly painted, she was about to start on the first trip of +the season.</p> + +<p>Half-past six was the hour of departure, but a heavy wet fog hung over +this city by the sea, and we were obliged to await its disappearance. +At length the sun struggled through the clouds, and the mist cleared +rapidly away. We hauled out and steamed slowly up the Elizabeth River, +then past the Navy Yard, with its tall smoking chimneys, its long rows +of yellow buildings, its leaning derricks, its neat and trim little +square, domineered over by a lordly flag-staff, whose base is guarded +by cannon captured from the enemies of the Republic, and its +dismantled ships—relics of past naval architecture. As we pass, the +shrill cry of the boat-swain's whistle is heard on ship-board, piping +all hands to breakfast, mingled with the music of the busy clinking +hammers forging chains and anchors. A few miles above this naval +station human habitations cease, scarcely a living thing greets the +eye—we are in almost entire solitude.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> +<p>The eagle is seen grandly floating on the air, or poised ready to +strike a defenceless animal or crippled bird. The buzzard, of +loathsome aspect, perched upon a blasted tree, waits for his gorged +appetite to sharpen, that he may descend and fatten upon some putrid +carcase. The river, narrow and tortuous, rolls its black waters +between low and marshy banks, flat, and running back to thin growths +of stunted pines and other badly nourished trees. As we go on, the +senses are now and then refreshed by the sight of a clump of pines, +which have persisted in growing tall and straight, with tufts of +bright green foliage waving gracefully in the wind. For many miles +this is about the description of country we pass through.</p> + +<p>At Great Bridge we enter the locks of the Chesapeake and Albemarle +Canal. A battle was fought here in 1775 and the British defeated. Here +are the Company's houses, well constructed and neatly painted—a +credit to the corporation as well as to the guiding spirit. The +substantial locks and well kept dwellings and offices, like the gilded +signs over the doors of the haunts of vice, are pleasant to look upon, +but they do not tell of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>that which is within. If the passage up the +river is dismal, what shall we say of the journey through this canal. +It is a dreary sameness cut right through a great swamp, merely wide +enough to admit the passage of two vessels, with only a dull damp +settlement here and there—a country store and the inevitable porch, +with its squad of frowsy, unkempt idlers.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"><img src="images/image_031.jpg" width="150" height="181" alt="COUNTRY STORE." /><br /> +<span class="caption">COUNTRY STORE.</span></div> + +<p>The country store and post-office is the same everywhere: it belongs +to every clime and nationality—it is a human device and speaks an +universal language. It is generally overflowing with all sorts of +commodities, from a hand-saw to a toothpick—is well stocked with +calico and molasses, rum and candles, straw hats and sugar, bacon and +coal oil, and gun-powder and beeswax. It is the rallying point for all +the mischief-making gossips to collect, for the settlement of the +affairs of the nation, and, failing in that, to set the neighbors by +the ears.</p> + +<p>Leaving the canal, we go out into another river: a bright spot breaks +upon us—a lumber station with new, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>fresh-looking piles of sawed +lumber. The banks of this stream are just as low, marshy and +uninteresting as the one we have passed through, and more crooked. +There are perhaps a few more trees—some oaks, and we observed a tree +with its crimson and yellow autumn foliage, backed by a clump of +pines, looking beautiful against the dark green, like sunlight +illumining a gloomy spot.</p> + +<p>After winding through the channel for a few hours, we enter Currituck +Sound. This shallow sea takes its name from a tribe of Indians which +once owned the adjacent lands. It is quite a large sheet of water, +though not deep, about fifty miles long, and nearly ten at the widest +part. It is dotted with small, low, sedgy islands, marshes and swamps. +After enduring the approaches to it, quite an enlivening scene is +presented. Persons are seen on the shore of the mainland, and boats +are moving about in various directions. Huge groaning windmills, with +tattered sails, guard the shore and torture the Indian corn into +bread-stuff. Now for the first time the traveler begins to realize +what it is to see wild fowl. The water seems black with ducks and +geese, and dazzling white with the graceful swans. The latter sit in +great flocks <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>on the shoals, for miles in length. As the steamer +approaches, they arise in such vast numbers as to nearly blacken the +heavens with a rushing sound like the coming tornado. Arriving as near +our destination as the vessel can take us, we disembark, landing on a +strong platform built far out from the shore. For a half hour we are +busy getting our traps from the bait—guns, dogs, ammunition, boxes, +bags, bales, bundles, baskets and barrels. We had left nothing +unpurchased which could contribute to the comfort of the inner or +outer man—especially the former. Now we transfer everything to a +small boat, sent from the beach miles away, to meet and convey us to +our journey's end—our home for a few weeks, where we must conform to +the customs of the natives as near as possible. We do not reach the +Hall until the twilight has faded into darkness. The water is too +shallow to allow even this small craft to approach the shore near +enough to enable us to land, so carts are driven out to it, and the +baggage and provisions piled therein. The teams being loaded, us city +folks, with store clothes on, are carried ashore on the backs of our +amiable and hospitable friends. They have a contempt for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>dry places, +water being their element. Proceeding to the house, we are welcomed in +the warmest possible manner by our host and his ever busy and pleasant +daughter Nora. We are installed as a part of the family, for we have +been there before—we are not strangers. Nora and her sable assistants +had prepared an abundant and inviting meal for us, and we enjoyed it +with an appetite quickened by the sail across the Sound.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;"><img src="images/image_034_1.jpg" width="100" height="177" alt="GOING ASHORE." /><br /> +<span class="caption">GOING ASHORE.</span></div> + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/image_034_2.jpg" width="200" height="134" alt="RAYMOND HALL." /> +<br /><span class="caption">RAYMOND HALL.</span> +</div> + +<p>After supper we made our arrangements for the first day's shooting, +and then retired—sinking into beds so downy as to induce sleep in a +few moments—and we do sleep just as soundly as if we had always been +wise and good and happy. The club house, "Raymond Hall," is an +ordinary frame one, situated on the shore of the Sound, a few rods +from the sea. It is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>surrounded by a tolerable growth of persimmon and +other trees; it stands alone, and at night is as silent as the halls +of death—not a sound being heard except the bark of the watchful +house-dogs. The wind murmurs about the angles of the house, and +through the branches of the trees, in dreary harmony with the roar of +the ocean. It is somewhat startling, for a few nights, to us denizens +of cities, to notice the entire absence of all precautions against +depredators—there are neither locks nor bolts. Life is primitive +here; all honor the head of the family, and bow to his will. The +people, young and old, are universally kind and respectful to those +strangers who sojourn among them, meeting them in a spirit of +frankness and exacting the same. We shoot whenever the weather is +suitable, and amuse ourselves at other times in various +ways—repairing boats, rigging decoys, cleaning guns, loading shell, +and making ready for a good day when it does come. We breakfast +between eight and nine o'clock, then, donning our shooting attire, +including rubber boots, which are indispensable, we go <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>to the landing. +Wading out to our boats, laden with all the implements of destruction, +we depart for the day's sport. A small fleet of five sail starts in a +bunch like a flock of white-winged birds; the swiftest of them shoot +ahead, fading out in the distance; others disappear behind the islands +or into some of the numerous creeks, and for that day we are lost to +each other.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 120px;"> +<img src="images/image_035.jpg" width="120" height="129" alt=""PHELY."" /> +<br /><span class="caption">"PHELY."</span> +</div> + +<p>We meet again at night, however, and compare notes. The number of +birds each has secured, the good and bad shots, with other events of +the day, are all pleasant topics at supper. After the evening meal, +we plan the next day's business, and then, wearied, we seek our +feather beds and sleep too soundly even to dream. So we pass the days +in a sort of luxurious vagabondism. How very pleasant it is to be a +vagabond, when one may return to starched linen and the trammels of +civilization whenever one wishes!</p> + +<p>Our club was composed of six persons: Mondray H. Charles, Rory +Theodoric, Jas. O'Kelly, Geo. H. Crege, H. H. Josephus and Geo. G. +Paullo. Two servants accompanied the party—Steve and Jacob, Steve is +a rattling, roaring fellow, who had never before been without <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>the +sound of the breakers of his native Long Island, and was ready to +perform any act for his friends, from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter. +Jacob, the companion of Steve, is the very opposite in all things; is +a genteel fellow, wears a clerical necktie of immaculate whiteness, +and has the appearance of having studied for the ministry, and +graduated as a cook. His table is a marvel of neatness, and his +culinary experience has enabled him to set many a tempting dish +before us.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/image_037.jpg" width="125" height="226" alt="JACOB." /> +<br /><span class="caption">JACOB.</span> +</div> + +<p>During our stay on the beach many amusing incidents occurred; we will +try and give some of them as they return to our memory. It may not be +uninteresting to know how and where we shoot, and so we give something +of a description. We draw lots for the choice; each selects the point, +or island, or strait, which, in his judgment will afford the best +shooting for the day, and there builds a blind. This blind is made by +breaking down the tall reeds, leaving a fence in front, next the +water, to secrete the gunner from the game. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>Behind this screen a sort of nest is formed by matting down the reeds +and marsh grass. It is rendered more comfortable by spreading a rubber +blanket, upon which are arranged for use, guns, ammunition, lunch and +a bottle—of water. The decoys are placed out in long range, in such a +manner as to make them appear as natural looking as possible, and then +we are ready for business. Now here they come—a flock of seven geese, +plump down among the stool, but get up again with equal haste. Two of +them are knocked down with the breech-loader, one dead, the other only +wounded—a third stopped by the muzzle-loader. Theodoric was dreamily +watching his decoys as they danced about, when a bunch of sprig-tail +swooped dawn, hovering above the stool. He picked his bird, and +dropped two with the first barrel, and another responded to the +discharge of the second. They came tumbling down into the water—dead. +One could not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>easily imagine a duck's head capable of expression, but +when they come lively, alight among the dummies, and hear no quack of +recognition, they soon discover the fraud, and the frightened haste +with which they gather themselves up and attempt to make off, is +expression all over.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px;"><img src="images/image_038.jpg" width="250" height="143" alt="BLIND." /><br /> +<span class="caption">BLIND.</span></div> + +<p>Crege, who is one of the best amateur shots on +Long Island, as a medal now in his possession will attest, had taken +his number twelve, and walked the marshes for snipe. So far as the +ducks were concerned, he had missed the sport, but he brought in a +bunch of forty-five English snipe, which compared favorably with the +success of the others. Crege is a superior marksman, but he shoots +much better when the boys gather about the table at the club on a +winter evening, where they talk their shots over again, and trot their +horses at impossible speed. O'Kelly is one of the constitutionally +chosen Senators for the great State of New York, is a prime <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>shot, an +enthusiastic sportsman, and one of the most genial of our friends. He +had located on a distant island, and expended powder and shot with his +usual prowess—returning laden with game. This was decidedly the best +day we had had, and the score was as follows: Charles, nineteen +canvas-back, eleven teal, three geese and twelve red-head, mallard and +black duck; Theodoric brought in sixty-five birds—canvas-back, +red-head, sprig-tail and black-head; O'Kelly, who had had surprising +luck, counted fifty canvas-back, and twenty-five common ducks. It was +a good count, and the game was hung up in the boat house with the +other birds.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/image_039.jpg" width="250" height="178" alt="SNIPE SHOOTING." /> +<br /><span class="caption">SNIPE SHOOTING.</span> +</div> + + + +<p>Many of the natives are professional gunners, and haunt the marshes +day and night, shooting for market, and thus making a living. If one +cannot shoot, one may resort to these people and purchase a boat load. +It is, however, a reprehensible practice.</p> + +<p>There is no tide in the Sound except that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>which is caused by the wind, +and as high water and a stiff breeze are essential to good sport, it +is not possible to have good shooting every day. When the wind comes +from the right quarter it makes a full tide, and drives the fowl +nearer the shore and up into the creeks where they may feed.</p> + +<p>It was getting toward the end of our sojourn; we had experienced +several quiet balmy days—no wind, low water, general listlessness. +"Should we have any more fun?" we asked, and went to bed. About +midnight the wind came howling through the trees, the weather became +cold, and the rattling windows responded to the hope of a good day +to-morrow. Getting our breakfast early, we selected our points and +hastened to the boats. Dark clouds, flying over a dull wintry sky, +denoted a steady blow—it was cheering. The blinds were quickly +reached, and decoys thrown out. Only a few birds were flying, the +fitful wind becoming higher and higher and then dying out entirely. +The clouds, however, soon drifted away, the sun appeared as bright and +beautiful as summer—almost persuading us to take off our coats. +Disheartened at the coquettish nature <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>of the weather, we gave it up. +Not a bird to be seen—we took our bottles, and throwing our heads +back on our shoulders, tried to look through the bottoms of +them—they in turn gave out a gurgling sound of complaining emptiness. +We fell into a refreshing sleep; the hours passed away unheeded, until +we were awakened by the rustling of the reeds bending in the breeze, +whispering of the coveted blow. Heavy black clouds were gathering, and +soon old Boreas came cracking out from the right point of the compass.</p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"><span class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"><img src="images/image_040.jpg" width="175" height="165" alt="FIVE AT A SHOT." /></span><br /><span class="caption">FIVE AT A SHOT.</span></div> +<p>This aroused the ducks in the open water to flight, and they came in, +seeking the shelter of the shore—a fatal protection. Charles, the +original explorer of the Sound as a sporting place, and founder of the +"Raymond Hall" Club, did some good work—taking them, right and left, +with each barrel, and dropping single blue-winged teal with unerring +aim.</p> + +<p>Theodoric is the most amiable, patient friend imaginable; can conduct +a bank equal to any man in New York; and we all esteem him very much. +He labors under the mild hallucination, however, that he must be +constantly doing something, and nearly all this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>is expended in +cleaning his gun. Morning and evening it undergoes this polishing +process, and on Sunday he rests himself by giving it another wipe.</p> + +<p>"It's a little leaded, you know, George," he remarks, and at it he +goes. Human nature may stand this, but guns won't.</p> + +<p>On one occasion when he tried to jam a cleaning rod through it, larger +than the bore, it refused to go.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"><span class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"><img src="images/image_043.jpg" width="300" height="217" alt=""I KNEW IT WOULD COME OUT."" /></span><br /><span class="caption">"I KNEW IT WOULD COME OUT."</span></div> + +<p>"You won't, won't you," said he, as he raised it aloft and brought it +down with all his might on the floor. It went in; but the gun bulged +just as any good gun will do, and the eruption yet stands on the +barrel, a monument of his determination.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> +<p>Steve was called in, and a pulling match ensued. Steve had hold of the +gun and Thee firmly clenched the rod. The gun could stand the combined +strength of two powerful men no better than it could resist the +jamming of the rod, and they parted. Steve went backwards over Mary +Rogers, a dog, and took a moist seat in a tub of warm water, which had +been prepared for cleaning guns. Steve said the water was hot, while +our fastidious friend looked bland, gathered himself up from out a +pile of empty shells, mixed with scraps of red flannel and oil-rags, +and said "I knew it would come out."</p> + +<p>Josephus, the great Canarsie fisherman, is not an enthusiast about +gunning, and left his sporting traps at home. He only went down for a +few days' fishing, and was prepared to take large numbers of bluefish. +Armed with a stout line and squid, he invited us over to see him do +it. The ocean was rough, and came rolling up in long heavy swells; the +fish were far out at sea. After getting his line arranged to his +satisfaction, he took firm hold of it a few feet above the squid; we +all looked admiringly on. By a series <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>of dexterous gyrations about his +head he sent it flying a hundred feet out into the water—it was +beautifully done. Skillfully he hauled it in, hand over hand. The +squid followed, as bright and shining as when he had cast it out, but +no fish. He made ready again, and with that nonchalant air of a man +who feels perfectly sure that he can do just what he wants to, he gave +it that preparatory whirling motion again, and away it went.</p> + +<p>The best efforts will fail sometimes, and the most skillful are often +doomed to disappointment—it was so in this case. The hook did not go +for a blue fish, but fastened itself in the leg of a too confiding dog +that stood looking curiously on, just as those canine friends of man +so often do. The misguided animal went howling away, and had to be +captured and the hook extracted.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image_045.jpg" width="150" height="153" alt="A QUEER FISH." /> +<br /><span class="caption">A QUEER FISH.</span> +</div> + +<p>He felt sure he could do it, however, and he tried it again, with as +much preparation as before, and twice the determination; he missed the +sea altogether, and the barbed instrument buried itself into that +portion of male wearing apparel that comes in contact with the chair, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +when one indulges in that agreeable and refreshing posture of sitting +down: they will need repairing.</p> + +<p>Paullo is a good shot—with a knife and fork—and can look on at +others who are doing hard work, with more nerve and complacency than +any man who visits the Sound. He had been persuaded to go to a certain +pond where ducks were abundant and easy to shoot. This was good; he +put his decoys out and waited. A bird was coming down—it went among +the stool. It was a beautiful specimen of the feathered tribe, with a +bill like a crow. In some places it is known as a crow duck, but the +proper local name here is "blue-peter." Blue-peter seemed to have no +fear, but sported around and among the dummies, and tossed the bright +drops of water from its shining plumage. With the true feelings of a +sportsman, Paullo wanted the bird to have a fair chance, and so tossed +bunches of marsh grass at it—it would not fly. Picking up his gun he +fired, wounding several decoys.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><span class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><span class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><span class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><img src="images/image_046.jpg" width="200" height="131" alt="BATTLE WITH BLUE-PETER." /></span></span></span><br /><span class="caption">BATTLE WITH <br /> +BLUE-PETER.</span> +</div> + +<p>The battle raged all that day and the next, blue-peter <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>diving at the +flash of the gun, and defiantly coming up and wailing for it to be +reloaded.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"><img src="images/image_047_1.jpg" width="175" height="154" alt="STRUCK IT WITH A CLUB." /><br /> +<span class="caption">STRUCK IT WITH A CLUB.</span></div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/image_047_2.jpg" width="200" height="139" alt="THE CONQUEROR." /> +<br /><span class="caption">THE CONQUEROR.</span> +</div> + +<p>On the morning of the third day, our Nimrod was late. When he arrived, +the duck was there patiently waiting to renew the fight, and was +busily engaged picking the shot from the bottom of the pond, tossing +it up and catching it in its bill as it came down. With such a gunner +and such game, this might last a week. Strategy was resorted to, and +when blue-peter went under at the flash, our hero waded out and struck +it with a club as it came to the surface. The victory was not to the +duck. Late that evening Steve and Jacob were seen carrying from the +landing to the house the dead B. P., strung by the neck to the centre +of a ten-foot pole, one pall-bearer at each end, and the conqueror +leading the procession. On his arrival he was greeted by his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>fellow +members with that distinguished consideration which our people so +freely accord to actors of great deeds.</p> + +<p>We remained on the beach four weeks, and had many pleasant days. We +have now returned to our respective homes, wearied in body but +refreshed in mind, well pleased with our trip, with each other, and +with a decided inclination for a repetition of the jaunt.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><img src="images/image_048.jpg" width="200" height="145" alt="JOE CREED." /><br /> +<span class="caption">JOE CREED.</span></div> + +<p>We cannot leave the subject without paying tribute to our friend and +companion, Joe Creed. Joe is a large resolute dog of an amiable +disposition, a dirty yellow coat, and a small bright eye of the same +color. He has a keen sense of duty, but never leaves the blind until +he sees the game falling, when he proceeds to bring it in. He was +undoubtedly born for it. If two birds fall, with almost human +intelligence he gets both. Taking the farthest first, stopping on his +way in to pick up the other, he come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>s in with one swinging on each +side of his great shaggy head. They tell of him that he has been +caught stealing sheep. We do not believe it—it is a mistake; he may +have been in bad company, that is all. Joe was the property of a +gentleman on Long Island, and we trusted his exploits in the North +might vie with his achievements in the South.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When some proud son of man returns to earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unknown to glory but upheld by birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And storied urns record who rests below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not what he was, but what he should have been;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first to welcome, foremost to defend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose heart is still his master's own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who labors, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unhonored falls."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But Joe came to an untimely end; he was found shot to death. The +following was placed over his grave:</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"> +"Near this spot<br /> +Are deposited the remains of one<br /> +Who possessed beauty without vanity,<br /> +Strength without insolence,<br /> +Courage without ferocity,<br /> +And all the virtues of man without his vices." +</p><p class="center"> +<i>Born in North Carolina, March, 1875.</i><br /> +<i>Died at Jamaica, Long Island, March, 1876.</i><br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image_050.jpg" width="150" height="169" alt="Decorative Image." /></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_051_1.jpg" width="400" height="122" alt="Decorative Image." /></div> + +<h2><a name="THE_HAUNTED_ISLAND" id="THE_HAUNTED_ISLAND"></a>THE HAUNTED ISLAND.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A jolly place," said he, "in times of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But something ails it now; the place is curst."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 50px;"> +<img src="images/image_051_2.jpg" width="50" height="49" alt="Dropcap." /></div> +<p>ar up the Potomac, in the shadow of the mountains, among the hundreds +of small islands which dot the river in that picturesque region, is +one which has the reputation of being haunted. It is but a few miles +above the ferry at the Point of Rocks, and is unknown to the thousands +of persons who are whirled past there every year in the railroad +trains.</p> + +<p>This island is about fifty acres in extent, and is bordered with +stately oaks to the very river's edge—whose waters lave their roots; +its margin is paved with pearly pebbles, while the drooping branches +of the trees, festooned with tangled vines of every hue, hang down in +glorious clusters, toying with the blue stream <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>which runs beneath. The +scenery here is truly enchanting. Islands of every size seem floating +in a charmed atmosphere; to pass one pleasing spot is but to disclose +another more beautiful than the last. Some are covered with a forest +growth; others cultivated, and waving in the summer breeze with yellow +ripening grain; and yet others are overgrown with varied shrubs, +filled with singing birds, and wild flowers breathing perfume.</p> + +<p>I had been fishing—had fished the river from the ferry up above and +around the island. I was well satisfied with the day's sport, and was +sitting in the stern of the boat in a sort of day dream. Jasper, my +boatman, was gently guiding the little vessel to keep it from striking +the many projecting rocks, as well as to prevent it from gliding too +rapidly down the current. The river, changed to a dark green color, +from the reflected foliage, ran now deep and sluggish against the huge +boulders which stand defiantly up: now over shallow places, shining +with silver sand, fretting itself into white foam and flinging up jets +of spray as if in anger. Waking from my reverie, I said:</p> + +<p>"Jasper, that is a tranquil-looking island; to whom does it belong?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> +<p>Jasper shook his woolly head as if he were puzzled, and with the air +of a person about to impart some awful secret, replied:</p> + +<p>"Dat don't belong to nobody; dat's haunted."</p> + +<p>"Haunted, Jasper! that is impossible. There are no such things as +haunted places."</p> + +<p>"Well, massa," he replied, his faith still unshaken, "dat's what I was +tole long, long years ago when I was a chile. Ye could hear noises +comin' fum da like distress, and dem sounds war jined wid de talkin' +ob men."</p> + +<p>"Very likely, but such sounds came from persons on the island, and +they were living, just as you and I are."</p> + +<p>"Dar war sounds," answered my boatman, "but da warn't no people on dat +island. Dem sounds warn't ob dis world."</p> + +<p>Such an opinion could not be weakened, for my dusky companion had been +raised in this local superstition and it was as firmly rooted as was +his faith in future forgiveness, and so I merely inquired:</p> + +<p>"Is there a house there, Jasper?"</p> + +<p>"Yes sar," said he, promptly, "da am a big squar one right in de +middle ob it."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> +<p>"We must go and see what it looks like, and try to learn where those +sounds came from."</p> + +<p>"S'cuse me, massa, dis chile don't set he foot on dat lan', kase ef he +do, he neber leabe it agin."</p> + +<p>"Then if you are afraid," said I, tauntingly, "I will go alone; you +wait until I return."</p> + +<p>"Massa," implored the frightened negro, "don't go; you neber kum back; +you is lost."</p> + +<p>"Take me as near the shore as you dare go, and leave me there."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, massa; you is lost foreber."</p> + +<p>Jasper took up the oar and pushed as near the shore as the shallow +water would permit; the keel of the boat grated on the sandy shore. I +stepped over the side of the boat and waded close up under the +overhanging branches, and forced my way through the dense growth which +shut this mysterious place from human sight. My black friend was +right; in the centre of the island stood the remains of a large stone +mansion, surrounded by what had once been a well-kept lawn. The grass +was growing green and rank, mingled with weeds, and both were +struggling for the mastery. Broken statues <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>of costly marble and +workmanship were lying scattered about; great flower vases, shattered, +and green with the mould and moss of years, were covered with weak and +flowerless creepers.</p> + +<p>The house is a two-story one with windows on every side, or rather +openings which had been windows at some former period. The dangling +remains of a heavy porch hung over the doorway, ready to fall and +crush the first careless intruder, while the massive oak doors stood +wide open as if to invite the victim within. The cornice was dropping +to pieces, and the woodwork had only the appearance of solidity—it +needed but the pressure of a hand to crumble into dust. The walls were +yet perfect, for they had been built of irregular sized stones, laid +up in cement, and so had outlasted the more perishable parts of this +costly structure. Inside the great doors was a wide hall of about +twenty feet, and its floors of hard wood had stood the test of time +remarkably. On one side of the hall was a room the whole depth of the +house; the ceiling was lofty, but the plaster had long since fallen +and become mere powder. It was empty; patches of mould had fastened +upon the walls, and a damp decaying <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>odor pervaded the air; insects and +loathsome reptiles crept over the floor. On the opposite side of the +hall were two apartments, but not enough of either remained to divine +what had been their uses. In a small back room there yet was to be +seen a great open fire-place capacious enough to roll in a good-sized +tree; a swinging crane was bolted to the corner of the chimney, +supporting hanging hooks, blackened by soot; it had doubtless been the +kitchen. Having fully explored the lower part, I proceeded to the +upper story. As I mounted the stairs, they groaned under the unusual +weight, but were still strong enough to enable me to complete the task +I had undertaken. The upper floor was divided into four large +chambers. Three of them were given up to decay, and desolation peered +from every corner and crevice. Bats had made their nests in and about +the broken places, and hung in bunches from the ceiling; the twitter +of the young swallows could be heard plainly from the chimneys. I +passed on to the fourth room; that was not vacant. Although the sash +had long since dropped in pieces, and fragments of glass yet littered +the floor, this chamber was occupied; not indeed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> by any living thing, +but by the inanimate remains of a once proudly furnished mansion, and +also by yet one other object, which though not living had the power of +movement. In one corner stood an old fashioned high-post bedstead, of +the finest curled maple, curiously carved and ornamented. A sort of +frame held the tops of the posts together, from which still hung +threads of costly curtains intertwined with cobwebs, and stained with +dust and damp atmosphere. There were no chairs, no tables, but in +another corner of the apartment stood an antique writing-desk, with +metal handles to the drawers, and brass feet fashioned after the claws +of the lion, older than the bedstead which occupied the other corner. +Its polish and usefulness had passed away with the grandeur of this +silent habitation. Between two of the windows was a space of six feet +in width, reaching from the floor to the cornice. This was all +occupied by a life-size portrait of a female, which looked as fresh +and fair as the day it left the hands of the artist. All else about +this solemn place was weird and death-like; there she stood in her +loveliness, as if just attired for some merry-making; her rosy lips +seemed ready to break out into <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>song and laughter and shout, to startle +this ghostly scene.</p> + +<p>"What could this mean?" I asked myself. "Why had all the work of man +perished, crumbled into dust, and this lovely image not suffered the +inevitable decay? Who was she, that she could stand here untouched +amid this ruin—defying time? Was it the semblance of the mistress of +this once rich abode? Had she loved with more ardor than reason? Was +she waiting for some one to enter this doomed edifice that we might +tell her story and fulfill her destiny?" I asked myself all these +questions over again, as I stood spell-bound, gazing at this beautiful +vision. She was symmetry itself; her hair was golden-hued, and flowed +in sunny profusion down over her beauteous neck and shoulders; the +painter's art had not exaggerated her natural grace and dignity—she +was beauty unadorned. The dress was of white satin, with the puffed +sleeves and short waist of the last century. A broad pink sash, +fastened in front at the waist, reached down to a pair of tiny feet, +clothed in rich embroidered slippers. I felt as if I was in the +presence of a living human being, and that she might at any moment <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +chide me for breaking the silence of this desolate place—for +disturbing its quiet.</p> + +<p>With that feeling of superstition which runneth in the blood of man, I +shuddered, grew weak and faint; great drops of cold perspiration +started out from my forehead, and I turned to see if some supernatural +mechanism had not closed the door and entombed me with the lovely +phantom. It was still open; its rust-eaten hinges had long since +ceased to act. I was free to go, but, with the infatuation of +curiosity, I could not move; I stood in my tracks and ventured to look +again.</p> + +<p>A sound of rustling drapery startled me. Great heavens! this image, +which seemed a moment before but a part of the solid wall, had moved +and stood in the centre of the room. Slowly she raised her right arm, +and with extended finger pointed to the old and faded escritoire. +Mechanically my eyes took the direction toward which she pointed. I +saw the doors of the cabinet tumble from their fastenings and fall to +the floor with a startling crash, while her attitude commanded me, +imperatively, to examine the recesses of this sepulchre of a long +buried secret. I did so. In it was nothing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>except a small time-stained +memorandum-book, the edges fastened by a silver clasp. I took it up. +It contained the following strange story of the Haunted Island. Here +it is:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Married.</span>—On the 27th of May, 1794, at Rock Creek church, +in the territory of Columbia, by the Rev. Mr. Rolf, John +Othard to Marie Othard." </p></div> + +<p>"John Othard and myself were cousins; we had been brought up beneath +the same roof, and been schoolmates and constant companions from +childhood. He was my boyish lover and protector. He had grown to +manhood, I was a few years younger, and we had vowed eternal constancy +to each other. When, however, too late, our parents discovered our +fondness for each other, and knew that we were betrothed, they +interposed objections; and after exhausting all mild means, they +threatened us with their displeasure, said they would disown and +disinherit us; that if we persevered, we must be outcast and +wanderers—go out from under the paternal roof forever; that the union +would be unlawful and wicked. The tie of blood, they said, was too +close, and could be fruitful only of misery and ruin—an unhappy, +sinful match. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>We had been walking, John and I, and talking as usual +over our doleful fate and prospects, and what seemed to us the absurd +notions of our parents. He had been trying to persuade me to disregard +what he termed the obstinacy of the old folks, and said impatiently:</p> + +<p>"'Come, Marie, when will you consent to be mine? We are old enough to +judge of our own affairs. If our families are determined on driving us +out with scorn, let us be equally so to convince them how very +harmlessly it will fall. I can support you; they may keep their money, +and bestow their curses.'</p> + +<p>"'No, not yet, John; let this cloud which now hangs over us pass away +first; it may, ere long, be dispelled. They may relent, and then, how +very happy we shall be to know that we did not court the anger of our +relatives. Let us not act hastily.'</p> + +<p>"'Ah! my dear Marie, women do not understand these matters quite as +well as men. I really think you share their idle superstitions. Do you +not?'</p> + +<p>"'You may call them superstitions if you will, but my sense of +propriety tells me that we should wait. We could not be happy with +their malediction pending over us.'</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> +<p>"'That is prattle. Notwithstanding these fears, we may be as +prosperous and happy as though we had come from the opposite sides of +the earth, and if you consent, they will be compelled to acknowledge +it.</p> + +<p>"'Our marriage, when solemnized by the proper authorities, will be as +far above their idle prejudices as the heavens are above us all.'</p> + +<p>"'Still, John, we must wait.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, and wait. Who ever taught us, until it was too late, that we +were growing up in sin—if it is sin?</p> + +<p>"'Why did they permit the seed of our childish friendship to ripen +into the full flower of love, and then blast it with the frost of +parental authority?'</p> + +<p>"'Dear John, do not lose your temper. I think you are right in that, +but let us be brave, and not set aside, too lightly, our duty to those +whose only solicitude can be that we do no wrong.'</p> + +<p>"'I was a little impatient, to be sure. I will respect your wish, +Marie. I will wait, but it must not be here.</p> + +<p>"'I will go out into the busy world for a year or two, and then return +to claim you. If I do not come back to you rich, I will at least have +enough to give us a good start in the world.'</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> +<p>"'John,' I said, placing my hand in his, 'I shall miss you very much, +and be very lonely. Be careful, John, that you do not bring with you a +wife, to give us a practical demonstration that your love was a mere +fancy.'</p> + +<p>"'Not I, dearest; I will remain as true to you, through every +vicissitude, as I now think you to be true.</p> + +<p>"'But you, who knows but I may live to find that you have obviated +the trouble by marrying a man who is not your cousin, just to make the +theory of certain persons good?'</p> + +<p>"'Trust me; I am worthy of your love; and now, good bye. God bless and +care for you.'</p> + +<p>"'May He bless and protect you, Marie.'</p> + +<p>"'He went off that same day. For the first few months his letters to +me were frequent, and always filled with sentiments of love and +constancy. Then the intervals became longer, and longer, then ceased +altogether. 'He is in a large city, I thought, and in the whirl of +excitement, he has already forgotten me; some other, perhaps, has +taken my place; his heart has another idol. No, I reasoned with +myself; that cannot be, he has become very poor and has married for +money, thinking I would never relent.'</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> +<p>"'Months passed rapidly away, faded into years, and yet no tidings +came. This silence and uncertainty were wearing tear channels down my +cheeks. I waited on; and though pained and sickened, like a true +woman I never allowed my tongue to disclose the anguish I suffered. +The wolf was gnawing at my heart; if the lines I felt growing more +marked on my features did not tell the story, it was my secret, and I +kept it.'</p> + +<p>"'One morning, after an absence of three years, John suddenly made his +appearance—without a note of warning. He seemed somewhat older, and +his face had lost that impetuous look of boyhood. But he was handsome +ever, and just the same loving fellow.'</p> + +<p>"'I am so rejoiced to be at home again. I have been thinking of you +constantly, Marie.'</p> + +<p>"'Why, then, have you been absent so long, and why for two years have +you not written to me—not even a line?'</p> + +<p>"'I have been fighting in a great, crowded city for a competency. The +battle was fierce and long; sometimes I was lost in the busy, swaying +multitude; but I have gained it, and I am here to know if you will go +and share it with me."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> +<p>"'Yes, I am ready and willing to go, though I am sure we shall be +driven out and away from the family fold; be branded as wantons, +outcasts, by all we love most dear.'</p> + +<p>"'Leave your fears outside the church door, my darling, for we can +defy them so far as money is the question. I have enough. We will +build ourselves a home in some retired spot, and be so happy that they +will seek us, and be ashamed of their conduct when they see how they +have erred.'</p> + +<p>"I could not resist such persuasion from the only man I had ever +loved. I consented at once, and the next day we were married. In +accord with my own desire, we bought this embowered island, and built +this spacious home. It had everything in and about it that taste could +fancy and wealth purchase. It was quite a heaven for me. We were so +happy, and he never left me. We sat beneath the grand old trees and +talked of our future prospects, read our favorite books, and I loved +those best which we had read together. It seemed too much happiness to +last long; sometimes I felt as if the shadow of sorrow was threatening <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +our home. Yet all was serene, and I dismissed my fears. It had not yet +come; but it was coming though, as slowly yet as surely as the distant +muttering of thunder portends the approaching storm. An indefinable +dread of something impending clung to me. I could not rid myself of +it. My husband now commenced absenting himself from home. He had +business in this city, and then in that one; his journeys became more +frequent and of longer duration. After one of these visits he returned +wearied and not at all like himself; care was on his brow, and his +manner betokened some great grief. I said:</p> + +<p>"'John, dear, it is two weeks since you left me, and you promised to +return the same day. What is the matter? are you in trouble? You must +be, for your face has that pinched look which nothing but extreme +anxiety can produce. Confide in me.'</p> + +<p>"'Nothing very serious, my dear child,' he replied, 'it will soon be +over; only a temporary embarrassment; some unlucky speculations.' Then +he gave me a kiss, smiled as he used to do, and said I was a baby.</p> + +<p>"'Ah, John, your words buoy me up and make me feel almost happy +again.'</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> +<p>"'Let us speak of it no more, and when I have my business all in shape +again, I will never leave you, but remain here, where, if you cannot +see me every moment, you can hear me.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, that will be such joy for me. But do you know, John, that while +I have waited, and waited, to hear the splash of the oars as you +crossed from the shore, I have conjured up all sorts of things? +Sometimes I have thought that perhaps—'</p> + +<p>"'Perhaps what?'</p> + +<p>"'That the chains of Cupid had been woven around you during your first +absence, and that you might have returned to her who—'</p> + +<p>"'Just what a foolish woman always supposes. Why I have been as true +to you as the waters of the glorious river, which sweeps past our +island home, have been constant in their tendency toward the sea.'</p> + +<p>"'I believe it, and now you will pardon me, will you, not?'</p> + +<p>"'Of course I do,' he continued; 'and, had I been as faithful to +myself as I have been loyal to you, I would not now be suffering the +woe you have so plainly seen on my face.'</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> +<p>"'Tell me, dear, for I can guide you out of it—I know I can.'</p> + +<p>"'No, not now,' he answered; then he kissed me and walked away.</p> + +<p>"Something terrible was coming—I knew it. The curses which had been +heaped upon us for disobedience were about to bear fruit. Now, +strange, rough-looking men came to see my husband—persons whom I had +not seen before. They seemed familiar with him; it was evident, +however, that their presence was distasteful to him; he tried to keep +them at a distance, he shrank from them. I said I did not like these +acquaintances; he replied that they were commercial friends, and must +be treated with respect. They had long and mysterious conversations +together. They would go to the other shore and return, bringing other +companions equally ill-looking.</p> + +<p>"One dark night the dip of oars was heard, and as the boat was run +upon the pebbly shore, four men stepped briskly out, and laboriously +lifted and carried a large, heavy, oblong box, and placed it in the +cellar. John said it was merchandise, and must be stored; it was +unsalable now, and it was best to keep it until there was a market +for it.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> +<p>"'But, John, why can it not be stored in the city, where it would be +at hand when the demand arises for it, and why do these +uncouth-looking men bring it at the dead of night? It would have been +easier, and certainly more pleasant, to have brought it in the +daylight.'</p> + +<p>"'My dear little sweetheart,' he turned and said abruptly, 'women know +nothing of business matters, and you would not understand me if I +explained it all.'</p> + +<p>"'You are deceiving me; for it does not require a business education +to enable one to guess that there might be something wrong about a +midnight transaction such as this.'</p> + +<p>"He deigned no explanation, but answered half kindly, half +sarcastically, 'Good night; ask no more of your puzzling questions. +Take this kiss; you are a little nervous and disturbed in temper, you +need rest—go to bed.'</p> + +<p>"He dismissed me with another kiss, as he had often done before. It +was the first to have a tinge of bitterness to it. I was far from +satisfied. What could this occupation be, that required him to remain +away so long and gather about him such associates? He had been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>gone a +whole month. Oh, what a weary, unhappy, dreary month that was for +me!—I thought it would never end. Why could not the fates let loose +their wrath all at once? Why was not all revealed? I wept myself +asleep, and was frightened into wakefulness by some horrid dream. I +took up the newspaper and tried to read it; the letters all ran +together. It was the Alexandria <i>Times and Advertiser</i>, of May, 1798. +Instinctively my eyes caught the following notice:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>Counterfeit Dollars.</i> The public are requested to be on +their guard with respect to a number of counterfeit dollars +of the United States, now passing in this city. They are +made of block-tin and pewter, and, if not quite new, may be +detected on sight. They are well cast, and, therefore, the +impression is exact; but the milling around the edge is +nothing like the true dollar, thereby may be easily known. +They are about four penny-weights too light." </p></div> + +<p>"The paper fell from my hands. Why I could not tell, and yet the +reading of that paragraph seemed connected with my life. Had that box +merchandise in it? Had my husband become one of a gang of base money +coiners? He could not have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>fallen so low; he was too good and too +honest. That mysterious box was always present, turn which way I +would. I felt impelled to go to the cellar and examine it. There could +be no harm in merely looking; it would ease my troubled brain. I took +the lantern and stealthily groped my way down into the damp earthy +atmosphere. It was silent as death there; the dim light revealed +nothing but the box. I held the lantern up over it, and the uncertain +flickering of its rays fell upon the lid. There was no denying the +ownership, it was marked in large bold letters, 'John Othard.' Now, I +must know what it contained; I could wait no longer; a sort of +determined malice took possession of me to connect it with the +newspaper, and with my husband—fiendish thought. I did not desire to +prove him other than the pure and noble man I had loved; but I was not +myself—I would do it just to still my excited suspicions. Putting the +lamp down over the name, as if that could blot it out, I went up the +creaking steps, and hastened back with the axe firmly clenched in +both hands, as if I feared a rescue. Placing the light on the earth +floor, I hesitated whether to strike or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>not—the blow was to reveal +joy or eternal misery to me. To leave the fatal box to itself, and go +to my chamber, was to be racked with horrible doubts. I seized again +the axe, and with repeated blows splintered the cover; then, with +bleeding hands I ripped it off and hurled it from me. Yes, there, +wrapped in rolls, shining with damnable brilliancy, was my husband's +secret. I was first stunned then frantic; cursed myself and him; +wished I had been unable to read; that I had been blind, dead, rather +than find him whom I had enshrined in my heart of hearts as a god, so +unworthy. He would go to a felon's cell—perhaps to an ignominious +death—and me, where could I go? I left the dreadful thing uncovered; +as I backed away from it toward the stairway, those glittering +witnesses grinned at me. I walked the floor all night—I could not +rest. The angel of sleep had fled, frightened at the discord in my +frame, and the angel of death was spreading his baneful wings over me.</p> + +<p>"Dawn surprised with its unwelcome light, and found me a shivering, +crouching wretch. That incestuous love with which we had defied the +fates, had now borne its full fruit.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> +<p>"About mid-day John came home. Despair had cooled me. I handed him the +paper and pointed to the notice. I watched his eager face while he +read it. He flushed and paled, and raising his eyes to meet mine, +asked if I knew all.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, I do know all. The box contains base coin. I have seen them. +They are there, and will consign you to a prison and me to my grave; +that is, if there lives one single, pitying human being, who will take +the trouble to heap the sod over a friendless, homeless wretch, as I +now am.'</p> + +<p>"'Calm yourself, darling; they cannot connect me with it. I will bury +it. But few persons know of it, and they dare not tell.'</p> + +<p>"He went to the cellar. I could hear him working away and talking +excitedly to himself. I approached the steps and listened. He had +ceased for a moment, I could hear his heavy breathing. I stepped down +a few steps; he turned toward me, coat off; his face grimed with +perspiration and dirt, he glared upon me. 'Aha, you come too late; I +have concealed it, I am not the owner of it; you cannot prove <i>me</i> +guilty.' His mind <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>was wandering; he imagined the officers were come to +take him. I moved toward him; a pistol shot, a heavy fall, and he had +escaped—so far as human penalty was concerned. Here I was, alone, on +this accursed island; even the servants had fled in terror, and left +me with the dead body of my husband. His blood ran from the wound, and +formed in little pools, which the thirsty black earth drank, and left +no stain. Now was I strong with frenzy; the method of madness was on +me; I seized the tools, which the suicide had left, and commenced to +dig what must now be a grave—wider, and deeper, and longer I dug it; +then settled the body into it; and covering it up, heaped and rounded +it. I did not mind the work; it was excitement and kept me from dying. +I went out into the open air—it was not yet light—the peaceful +heavens gave no sign of wrath, and the bright twinkling stars looked +down upon this scene of crime, and madness, and suicide, as serenely +as they had before the island was changed from a domestic paradise to +a pandemonium. I hear him calling, as if from the river; it is a +stifled cry for assistance. I must go to him. I can save him, and +I—"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> +<p>The newspaper of that period contained the following:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The body of a female was found floating in the river at the +Great Falls of the Potomac—Unknown." </p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_076_1.jpg" width="400" height="122" alt="Decorative Image." /></div> +<h2><a name="THE_FAIRIES_OF_WARM_SPRING_MOUNTAIN" id="THE_FAIRIES_OF_WARM_SPRING_MOUNTAIN"></a>THE FAIRIES OF WARM SPRING MOUNTAIN.</h2> + +<h3>A LEGEND OF BERKELEY SPRINGS.</h3> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"><img src="images/image_076_2.jpg" width="150" height="281" alt="Illustration." /></div> + + +<p>To one who has not lived in a mountain country the abounding beauty +of those sequestered regions is unknown. The mountains, blue, dim, and +mysterious, with range backing range, and pillaring the heavens, lift +their mist-enveloped peaks far above this breathing, thinking world. +There the wild deer roams in solitude and security, and there the +daring of man has never penetrated. Grim old sentinels, clothed with +verdure to their very summits, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>frown down upon coeval valleys which +they protect, and through which they send their bower-born springs +with gurgling music to the smiling plains, and onward, broadening into +majestic rivers. The valleys, as if conscious of and grateful for the +protection, run up to meet and embrace their gigantic guardians, with +offerings of wild flowers and many-hued foliage. Afar off a human +habitation clings to the side of the steep mount, surrounded by fields +of emerald hue; a homestead, hewn from the primeval forest.</p> + +<p>Leafless trees, blasted and riven by the angry elements, stretch their +scathed limbs for mercy, while their earthless roots writhe like +knotted reptiles and twist into hideous shapes. Roads, toiling lazily +over steeps, gray, rugged, and rutty, lead away to unknown regions. A +bald spot—rock—whose face has borne the violence of the storm for +ages, yet defiantly stands there, inviting the fury of its ancient +enemy. The clouds, broken into fantastic forms, cast gossamer shadows, +which go floating phantom-like, away, as unreal as spirits and as +tranquil as the promised land. Jutting crags, piled up in grotesque +confusion, capped by monstrous rocky platforms, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>overhang the leafy +depths. The rail track, like a glistening serpent, winds its way along +the narrow shore, and over bridges light and fanciful, mere webs, spun +by human spiders, spanning streams which foam their anger through +narrow passes. Beneath, in a distant valley, the river, like a shining +thread, flows on through tangled thickets, past populous towns and +lowly huts.</p> + +<p>But these mountain solitudes were not always so lonely. Ages gone by, +when the world first began, they were peopled by a race of fairies. +These little creatures lived and reveled in these grand old forests, +and made them joyous with their merry shouts and sports. They knew no +care, and nightly gathered beneath the spreading branches, sporting +until the gray of morning drove them to their hiding places. They +wantoned in the cool streams and swung in the pendant flowering vines, +while the moon sent her silvery light down through the trembling +leaves to light them on their way. The daylight was hateful to them, +and all day long they passed the time in secret bowers and mossy +recesses, away from the light, and only left them when the starry +heavens bade them forth again to their nightly revels.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> +<p>Thus, these happy little people lived, and far and near through all +the woods, yielded willing allegiance to a queen, majestic, lovely, +and beloved by her tribes. Her sway was mild, for mutual kindness was +the bond between them. But for a long time her sorrowing followers had +noticed that her sweet face wore a troubled look; that she had not as +usual joined in their pleasures, nor even approved of them. They felt +that some dreadful secret filled her heart and clouded her brow, yet +what it was none dared to ask, and she herself remained silent. They +would willingly have died to free her from this sorrow, but they knew +not what to do. They surrounded her and said:</p> + +<p>"Beloved sovereign, may we not share thy grief?"</p> + +<p>"It may be, soon," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Have we caused you pain? Have we not been dutiful?"</p> + +<p>"My sorrow, dear people, is not of your creation; you have ever been +loving, faithful subjects."</p> + +<p>"What, then, can we do to show our devotion to you?"</p> + +<p>"Our season of enjoyment, my subjects, is almost gone, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>and soon we +must hide ourselves to escape the cold. When the spring returns again +you shall learn it all; until then seek to know no more."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image_080.jpg" width="150" height="330" alt="Illustration." /></div> + +<p>The winter was dead and passed away, and the genial breath of spring +wafted silently over his grave, evoking glowing treasures from the +ruin he had left. The earth, alive again, put forth its most beautiful +creations, and tempted once more the fairies of the mountains to +appear. The queen, true to her promise, sent swift messengers to her +remotest people; she summoned them all to her presence. They came in +troops, and filled the mountain tops and sides, and reached down into +the valleys. She welcomed them as they approached her. In majesty she +was seated upon a summer throne. It was formed of the finest woods of +the forest, and quaintly fashioned by the little work-people. It was +cushioned with the most delicate mosses, and wild vines had been +trained <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>up and over and around it, blending charmingly with the rustic +woodwork. Above her tiny head spread a canopy of delicate twigs, +twisted into fantastic shapes by skillful hands, and roofed with the +glittering wings of the rarest insects, overlapped with such exactness +that not even a drop of dew could penetrate. It was right royal, and +she was worthy of it. Near the queen's pavilion were ranged the +principal leaders of the various tribes, together with her most +favored advisers.</p> + +<p>Her eyes, sad and mournful, wandered over this vast assemblage of +devoted friends.</p> + +<p>"My people," she commenced, "as I promised, I have called you from +your sylvan abodes to impart what I have too long concealed. It has +been known to myself alone that the period for our allotted stay upon +earth has almost expired. In a short time we must go, forever, from +these scenes of pleasure—from these woody retreats where we have +known so many joys. Our places will soon be taken by the sons of men. +It is our fate that when they come we must disappear. Through all our +lives we have done nothing but waste our time in pursuit of mere +pleasure, hastening the time <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>of our banishment and doing good to no +one. Like the bees, fluttering from flower to flower, we will have +sipped the sweets of life and left no mark that we ever existed. It is +my wish ere we go, that we do something by which we may be remembered.</p> + +<p>"Let us bestow upon mankind a gift so great that it shall last them +forever, and which they may enjoy and bless us for to the end of time. +Such a gift is within our reach, but we have never sought it for +ourselves."</p> + +<p>With one voice they said—</p> + +<p>"What shall it be? The will of our queen is our pleasure."</p> + +<p>"I was sure of it," she said. "Now listen: It is known to us all that +within this very mountain the purest waters are imprisoned. But we can +release them; these crystal streams must be set free from their +subterranean channels and brought sparkling to the surface."</p> + +<p>They all bowed obedience, and asked when this great task should be +commenced.</p> + +<p>"Let the preparation for this arduous undertaking go forward," she +said, "now while the summer is with us. Waste not the time; let our +whole people be employed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>in making instruments suitable for breaking +the crust which confines the treasure we are going to bring forth for +the benefit of mankind. We must hasten to our work and be diligent. I +dismiss you, but assemble again when next the dreary winter is past +and the genial sun warms the buds into leaflets—when the upland rills +have found their voices once more, and come leaping from their hidden +birthplaces."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"><span class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"><img src="images/image_083.jpg" width="175" height="193" alt="Illustration." /></span></div> + +<p>The gentle summer had passed, the winter had again come and gone, and +the troops were gathering in response to the command of their +mistress. They had been industrious. Each came armed with a stout +staff, made from the toughest wood and shod with the hardest flint. In +myriads they arrived—whole armies of them—and eagerly awaited the +command to go forward. They moved in column, headed by captains, down +the steep declivities. They toiled with a will. Many died of fatigue, +but their places were soon filled by other eager <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>workers. At length +their toil was rewarded, and the bright and beautiful waters gushed +forth in great fountains.</p> + +<p>The fairies have long since disappeared, but the waters still flow and +fill the little valley with sweet, health-giving streams.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"><span class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"><img src="images/image_084.jpg" width="150" height="311" alt="Decorative Image." /></span></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Nick Baba's Last Drink and Other +Sketches, by George P. 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Goff + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Nick Baba's Last Drink and Other Sketches + +Author: George P. Goff + +Release Date: June 5, 2006 [EBook #18509] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK AND *** + + + + +Produced by Stephen Hope, David Edwards, Sankar Viswanathan, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made from images produced +by the North Carolina History and Fiction Digital Library) + + + + + + + + + + NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK + + AND + + OTHER SKETCHES. + + + + BY + + GEO. P. GOFF. + + + * * * * * + + Pro captu lectoris habent sua fata libelli. + + * * * * * + + ILLUSTRATED. + + * * * * * + + + + LANCASTER, PENNA.: + + INQUIRER PRINTING AND PUBLISHING COMPANY + + 1879. + + +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by + +GEO. P. GOFF, + +In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. + + + + +TO THE + +"RAYMOND HALL" SHOOTING CLUB, + +THIS + +VOLUME IS INSCRIBED. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +THE KIND PARTIALITY OF INDULGENT FRIENDS HAVING INDUCED ME TO GATHER +TOGETHER THESE SCATTERED FRAGMENTS, INDITED AS A RECREATION FOR MY +LEISURE MOMENTS, I GIVE THEM THUS COLLECTED, WITH THE HOPE THAT THE +SAME FAVOR WILL BE EXTENDED TO THEIR IMPERFECTIONS AS HAS SO OFTEN +BEEN SHOWN TO THEIR AUTHOR. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK. + +TRIP TO CURRITUCK--ILLUSTRATED. + +HAUNTED ISLAND. + +LEGEND OF BERKELEY SPRINGS--ILLUSTRATED. + + + + +NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK, + +AND OTHER SKETCHES. + + + + +NICK BABA'S LAST DRINK. + + +It was Christmas Eve, and the one narrow main street of a small +country town was ablaze. Extra lights were glowing in all the little +shops; yet all this illumination served only to make more apparent the +untidy condition of the six-by-nine window panes, as well as the goods +therein. Men and women were hastening homeward with well-filled +baskets which they had provided for the festive morrow. All the +ragged, dirty urchins of the village were gathered about the dingy +shop windows admiring, with distended eyes and gaping mouths, the +several displays of toys and sweetmeats. + +Their arms buried quite to their elbows in capacious but empty +pockets, they cast longing looks and wondered, as they had no +stockings, where Santa Claus could put their presents when he had +brought them. To all this show and preparation there was one +exception: one place shrouded in total darkness--it was the shop of +Nick Baba, the village shoemaker. That was for the time deserted; left +to its dust, its collection of worn-out soles, its curtains of +cobwebs, and its compound of bad, unwholesome odors. This darkness and +neglect was about to end, however, and give place to a glimmer of +light. + +Nick now came hurrying in and, quickly striking a light, placed +between himself and a flickering oil lamp a small glass globe filled +with water. He sat down upon his bench and commenced work in earnest +on an unfinished pair of shoes. He hammered, and pulled, and +stretched, and pegged, and sewed, and all this time, had there been +any one present, they might have observed that, though Nick worked so +diligently, he was unhappy, and a prey to the bitterest reflections. +All in the village had commenced their merry-making, while he sat +there alone, forgotten, and in despair. His neighbors had plenty--he +was penniless, and could take nothing to his home but regrets for the +past. The rickety old door now creaked on its rusty, worn-out hinges, +and admitted a creature as strange looking as it was unexpected. It +moved straight toward Nick, and perched itself upon a three-legged +stool close beside him. This mysterious thing could not be pronounced +supernatural, and yet it was as unlike anything human as is possible +to imagine. It was more like some fantastic figure seen in a +dream--the creation of a disordered brain. It may be that it was a +goblin--Nick thought it one. It was only about two feet high; a mass +of dark-brown hair streamed down its back, partially concealing a +great hump, and thence flowed down to its heels. Its head was round as +a ball and topped out by a velvet cap of curious shape and +workmanship, with a broad projecting front which shaded a pair of +lustrous red eyes, set far back beneath the forehead--almost lost +there. Its breast was sunken, and the head settled down between the +shoulders, created an impression of weakness, as if, for example, it +should speak, that a small piping voice would come struggling up from +below. Baba looked up with alarm, but the goblin greeted him with a +smile, and said, "Merry Christmas, Nick," in a deep, strong and not +unmusical voice, which came boldly up and out from its parted lips. + +"How do you know my name?" inquired the cobbler, "and why do you mock +me by such a greeting?" + +"Baba, my friend," replied the Goblin, "I was just thinking that if +all the acts of your life had been as good and as humane as your +mechanical skill is perfect, you would not now be floundering in the +meshes of vice and dissipation. You are making a good pair of shoes +there." + +The shoemaker worked away without raising his head, but responded +spitefully, "Where is the use of making them good?--I get no pay for +them." + +"Why, who," inquired the occupant of the three-legged stool, "is so +ungenerous as to want such shoes without paying for them?" + +"They are," answered the busy workman, "for the owner of this +miserable shanty, and he complains because I am only six months behind +with my rent--a most unreasonable man. If he does not get his shoes +to-morrow, he will turn me out; I must have some place to work, and so +am forced to do the bidding of this grasping landlord." + +"Ah, it is you who are unreasoning," exclaimed Baba's visitor, +sorrowfully; "it is you who are in fault. If you would but remain away +from the tavern and the vile associates whom you meet there, all would +be well with you, you might redeem yourself." + +Nick felt this rebuke so very keenly that he turned savagely toward +the one who had dared to tell him so plainly of his degradation, and +demanded. "Who are you, and why have you disturbed the quiet of this +mean hovel to insult me in my misery?" + +"Because I wish to serve you," answered it of the waving brown hair. + +"You cannot serve me. I will drive you out," threatened the now +infuriated cobbler; "I will throw you from the window--I will kill +you." + +The red eyes of the Goblin danced and twinkled in their caverns; a +merry, careless laugh came bubbling forth as it answered, "I will not +leave your shop, nor will you throw me from the window, nor yet kill +me, Nick Baba. Why, you silly fellow, the sharpest tool on your bench +cannot draw blood from me, and that blackened lapstone, if driven with +all the force of your great arm through my seeming substance, would +leave me sitting here still, not to mock, but to try and save you." + +The baffled and stricken shoemaker looked up and muttered. "Then you +are not human, you are a demon. But, after all," added Nick, +softening, "whether you are of this world or of some other, you are +right in what you say." + +The Goblin made no reply, and Nick continued, "I have sunk very low, +indeed, but I cannot shake this habit; it clings to me so firmly, that +I have not only forfeited the regard of my neighbors and friends, but +I even loathe myself." + +"Why not make an effort, Nick? You can if you will." + +"Yes, yes," responded Nick, "it is easy enough to say give it up, but +you have never felt this accursed appetite for strong drink; this +constant craving for more; this inward sinking sensation, as if the +parts of the body were about to separate, impelling the victim on in a +career of sin and shame. You know nothing of all this." + +"No, I confess I do not," acknowledged the Goblin, "but I think any +man may resist it, if he will make the trial." + +"Ah, you might as soon expect," pursued Nick, "to see the starving man +cast bread from him, as to hope for the drunkard to resist liquor when +the frenzy of this appetite is on him." + +"But you have not tried, Nick." + +"Yes, I have tried and failed, and tried again and then failed." + +"Keep on trying," said velvet cap. + +"A glass of liquor," resumed Baba, "is a trifling thing, and it is +very easy, you think, to cast it into the gutter. But I tell you, +whoever and whatever you are, that this sparkling and seductive drink +is the pygmy that binds the giant to the post with a thread, and +lashes him with thongs of fire. + +"Try again," urged the Goblin, "I am sure you can regain all that you +have lost." + +"No, no," moaned Nick, "I am too low down; I am an absolute slave to +rum." + +"Baba," commanded the Goblin, "take up the shoe you have nearly +finished, look into the sole and tell me what you see there. It is a +mirror of the past." + +Nick took the shoe from the floor and gazed at it intently for a few +seconds. He was agitated, and his powerful breast heaved as only a +strong man may be moved--he wept. + +"What do you see? Speak!" said his tormentor. + +"I see," responded Nick, mechanically, "a scene of seven years ago. It +is the image of a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl before the altar in her +wedding garments. I am there also, vowing to protect her; to stand up +and battle with the world for her; to be a barrier between her and +want. But I have not done it--I have been recreant to every principle +of honor or manhood, God help me." + +"Now, Nick," said the conjuror, persuasively, "pick up the other shoe +and tell me what you see there. That is a mirror of the present." + +"I see," groaned Nick, "in place of that fair-haired girl at the +church, then all happiness, a prematurely old woman, faded and +disheartened. Three ragged children cling to her scanty clothing. They +beg of her mere bread to keep off hunger. She has none to give +them--she draws them closer to her, and folding them in her emaciated +arms, kisses them. She gives them all she has--a mother's love." + +"What more do you see," demanded the magician: "tell it all." + +"Oh! maddening sight," sobbed Nick; "I see myself staggering from the +ale-house and reeling into what should be a home, where gaunt +starvation stalks the floor; where the hearth is fireless, and where a +starving family die upon a pallet of straw." + +"You have seen it all," said the wizard. "It is bad." + +"Yes, and the picture is as true as it is terrible. What demon +prompted you to come here to-night with your diabolical machinery, to +show me to myself so much blacker than I thought I was?" + +Nick's queer little companion peered through the misty, uncertain +light of the cobbler's workshop with his sharp restless red eyes, but +remained quiet. + +Nick, his head in a whirl of excitement, then placed his face in his +open palms, and resting his elbows upon his knees, looked down at the +floor covered with scraps of soiled leather. Soon these scraps +commenced to move and assume weird shapes. They changed to hundreds of +little red, blue and green devils, no more than a few inches high, +which capered over the floor in troops. They ran up Nick's back, and +hiding in the mass of black hair, twisted and knotted it until their +victim winced, and then with hilarious shouts dropped to the floor and +went clattering away. Returning, they played hide and seek in and out +of the old worn boots and shoes which littered the floor. Then the tub +wherein the shoemaker wet his leather, burst its hoops and the water +ran out over the floor in streams of fire. The light was out and +darkness enveloped Nick and his companion. The wind went howling by, +and flung gusts of hail against the cracked and broken windows. Baba, +shivering from the cold, straightened himself up and looked for his +patron. + +He could not see him, but he did perceive two balls of fire close to +him--the red eyes were still upon him. + +Nick was thankful even for this, as any companionship at that moment +was better than none. The silence was at length broken by the Goblin +remarking, "You must have passed a fearful ordeal during the last few +moments." + +"Has the time been so short?" inquired Nick; "it seemed almost an age +to me. This is not the first occasion, however, that I have passed +through it, and I fear the time may come when nature will break down, +and then I shall either do myself an injury or harm some one else--I +know it." + +"I hope not," said the wizard. "Good-bye, I must go." + +"Do not leave," implored the half-frightened Baba, "but remain with me +until I have quite finished my work. I believe I am growing to be a +coward, for I dare not be alone to-night. You are such an odd-looking +manikin," continued Nick, "and have spoken so fearlessly to me, that I +am beginning to like you. Do stay." + +"Well," consented the Goblin, "I will remain as long as you wish; my +time is of no value; beside, if I can persuade you to reform and be a +sober man, it will be worth an eternity of waiting." + +Nick said, "Thank you, I will try," and went on with his work. + +Neither spoke for some time, when Baba suddenly exclaimed, "There, +they are finished at last, and are as good a pair of shoes as man ever +trod in. I suppose now that I may occupy this den for a while longer." + +"Baba, my good man," solicited Nick's friend, "as we are about to +part, will you give me your promise never to drink rum again? You will +then be happy, I am sure." + +Hesitatingly the cobbler agreed that he would not taste the accursed +stuff again; but made it a condition that his new-found friend should +accompany him as far as where he lived in such wretchedness. + +"I have no objection," replied the Goblin, "if you will not walk too +fast, for I cannot keep pace with you." + +"Why, I will carry you," said the grateful Nick, and seizing the +little conjuror in his arms, walked off with him easily. + +When they had proceeded about half the length of the street, at the +other end of which Nick lived, they came to the village dram-shop. +Forgetting all that had passed, the willing shoemaker stopped and +listened. He could hear the clinking sound of glasses ringing on the +night air, mingled with the maudlin shouts and songs of his boon +companions. The old feeling returned; he grew weak in his resolution, +and, turning to the Goblin, said, "Just come in and have one drink +with me--the last one." Immediately the imprudent Nick was thrown +violently to the ground, the houses trembled, and their shutters +rattled from their fastenings. The whole town seemed falling into +ruins. Nick was startled into wakefulness, and a sweet, cheery voice +called, "Nick, Nick, are you going to lie in bed all day? It is a +bright Christmas morning and the children are half frantic to show you +the presents Santa Claus has brought them." + +"My dear, are you sure I am Nick Baba, the village shoemaker, and that +you are his wife?" + +"Certainly. Why ask such a question?" + +"Then I have had a frightfully vivid dream," explained he to his wife, +"for I seemed to have fallen back into my old habits of intemperance +and to have dragged you down with me, where I had hoped never to see +you again." + +"Nick, dear, it was but a dream. Remember you took your last drink +just three years ago; do you feel strong enough yet to resist it?" + +"Yes, I do; and now that I am sure it was only the nightmare, I will +hasten and join you and the children at breakfast." + + * * * * * + + + + +A TRIP TO CURRITUCK. + + +On a Monday, in the month of November, we started on our annual trip +to the marshes of North Carolina. We left Washington armed and +equipped, and met, at Norfolk, four of our party who had left New +York the previous week. They had been spending a few days in Princess +Anne County, quail shooting, where they had labored hard with no +success to speak of--the birds were few, the ground heavy, and they +quit that locality, perfectly willing never to return to it. They +arrived in Norfolk heartily sick of that excursion. We got the traps +all together and made a start for our favorite sporting grounds; where +the merest tyro may do satisfactory execution, and come in at night +with a keen appetite for the next day's sport. + +While waiting for the quail party to return, we strolled through the +old city of Norfolk, with its quaint houses and curiously-winding +streets, and wandered into the old-time burial place surrounding St. +Paul's church. + +[Illustration: ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, 1739.] + +This is one of the oldest places of worship in the United States; it +was erected before the Revolution, and is built of imported brick, +laid alternately, red and black. The figures, giving the date of +erection, 1739, are rudely worked into the wall--projecting far enough +to make the design perfectly plain. When the town was burnt by the +British, 1775, only the walls of this sacred edifice were left +standing. The enemy relieved it of a very fine marble baptismal font, +and also of the communion plate, which were carried to Scotland. On +the gable end of the building, still fast in the wall, may be seen a +cannon ball which was fired from the British ship, Liverpool. The +church stands in the customary grave yard of those days, and contains +the remains of persons interred as early as 1700. Near the door stands +the tomb-stone of Col. Samuel Boush, who gave the land on which this +house of worship stands. Many of his relatives also rest there. Some +of the stones, marking places of interment, are covered with mosses +and creeping plants; the inscriptions on others are almost obliterated +by the ravages of time; still others have fallen or been broken, and +now lean in every direction over the last earthly resting-place of +those who thought to tell coming generations who reposed beneath. This +is one of the weaknesses of mankind, but it is vain. + +Let them pile up costly and lofty monuments--reaching heavenward; let +the artist cut their names and virtues deep into the enduring granite; +let the mechanic, with all his skill, set the foundations, yet the +lettering will perish and the stone will crumble. Parasitic plants +will fasten upon them; beneath their destroying grasp names and dates +will disappear, and generations yet to come will be unable to tell +whether they look upon the grave of a prince or upon that of a +peddler--the narrow house of him who retired to the straw pallet of +poverty, will not then be known from that of him who reclined upon the +silken couch of affluence-- + + "Death levels all ranks, + And lays the shepherd's crook beside the sceptre." + +[Illustration: ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, 1878.] + + "On it, time his mark has hung; + On it, hostile bells have rung; + On it, green old moss has clung; + On it, winds their dirge have sung; + Let us still adore thy walls, + Sacred temple, Old St. Paul's." + +Our party assemble, and we find the little steamer Cygnet at her +wharf, looking as neat and trim as the graceful bird after which she +is named. Newly painted, she was about to start on the first trip of +the season. + +Half-past six was the hour of departure, but a heavy wet fog hung over +this city by the sea, and we were obliged to await its disappearance. +At length the sun struggled through the clouds, and the mist cleared +rapidly away. We hauled out and steamed slowly up the Elizabeth River, +then past the Navy Yard, with its tall smoking chimneys, its long rows +of yellow buildings, its leaning derricks, its neat and trim little +square, domineered over by a lordly flag-staff, whose base is guarded +by cannon captured from the enemies of the Republic, and its +dismantled ships--relics of past naval architecture. As we pass, the +shrill cry of the boat-swain's whistle is heard on ship-board, piping +all hands to breakfast, mingled with the music of the busy clinking +hammers forging chains and anchors. A few miles above this naval +station human habitations cease, scarcely a living thing greets the +eye--we are in almost entire solitude. + +The eagle is seen grandly floating on the air, or poised ready to +strike a defenceless animal or crippled bird. The buzzard, of +loathsome aspect, perched upon a blasted tree, waits for his gorged +appetite to sharpen, that he may descend and fatten upon some putrid +carcase. The river, narrow and tortuous, rolls its black waters +between low and marshy banks, flat, and running back to thin growths +of stunted pines and other badly nourished trees. As we go on, the +senses are now and then refreshed by the sight of a clump of pines, +which have persisted in growing tall and straight, with tufts of +bright green foliage waving gracefully in the wind. For many miles +this is about the description of country we pass through. + +At Great Bridge we enter the locks of the Chesapeake and Albemarle +Canal. A battle was fought here in 1775 and the British defeated. Here +are the Company's houses, well constructed and neatly painted--a +credit to the corporation as well as to the guiding spirit. The +substantial locks and well kept dwellings and offices, like the gilded +signs over the doors of the haunts of vice, are pleasant to look upon, +but they do not tell of that which is within. If the passage up the +river is dismal, what shall we say of the journey through this canal. +It is a dreary sameness cut right through a great swamp, merely wide +enough to admit the passage of two vessels, with only a dull damp +settlement here and there--a country store and the inevitable porch, +with its squad of frowsy, unkempt idlers. + +[Illustration: COUNTRY STORE.] + +The country store and post-office is the same everywhere: it belongs +to every clime and nationality--it is a human device and speaks an +universal language. It is generally overflowing with all sorts of +commodities, from a hand-saw to a toothpick--is well stocked with +calico and molasses, rum and candles, straw hats and sugar, bacon and +coal oil, and gun-powder and beeswax. It is the rallying point for all +the mischief-making gossips to collect, for the settlement of the +affairs of the nation, and, failing in that, to set the neighbors by +the ears. + +Leaving the canal, we go out into another river: a bright spot breaks +upon us--a lumber station with new, fresh-looking piles of sawed +lumber. The banks of this stream are just as low, marshy and +uninteresting as the one we have passed through, and more crooked. +There are perhaps a few more trees--some oaks, and we observed a tree +with its crimson and yellow autumn foliage, backed by a clump of +pines, looking beautiful against the dark green, like sunlight +illumining a gloomy spot. + +After winding through the channel for a few hours, we enter Currituck +Sound. This shallow sea takes its name from a tribe of Indians which +once owned the adjacent lands. It is quite a large sheet of water, +though not deep, about fifty miles long, and nearly ten at the widest +part. It is dotted with small, low, sedgy islands, marshes and swamps. +After enduring the approaches to it, quite an enlivening scene is +presented. Persons are seen on the shore of the mainland, and boats +are moving about in various directions. Huge groaning windmills, with +tattered sails, guard the shore and torture the Indian corn into +bread-stuff. Now for the first time the traveler begins to realize +what it is to see wild fowl. The water seems black with ducks and +geese, and dazzling white with the graceful swans. The latter sit in +great flocks on the shoals, for miles in length. As the steamer +approaches, they arise in such vast numbers as to nearly blacken the +heavens with a rushing sound like the coming tornado. Arriving as near +our destination as the vessel can take us, we disembark, landing on a +strong platform built far out from the shore. For a half hour we are +busy getting our traps from the bait--guns, dogs, ammunition, boxes, +bags, bales, bundles, baskets and barrels. We had left nothing +unpurchased which could contribute to the comfort of the inner or +outer man--especially the former. Now we transfer everything to a +small boat, sent from the beach miles away, to meet and convey us to +our journey's end--our home for a few weeks, where we must conform to +the customs of the natives as near as possible. We do not reach the +Hall until the twilight has faded into darkness. The water is too +shallow to allow even this small craft to approach the shore near +enough to enable us to land, so carts are driven out to it, and the +baggage and provisions piled therein. The teams being loaded, us city +folks, with store clothes on, are carried ashore on the backs of our +amiable and hospitable friends. They have a contempt for dry places, +water being their element. Proceeding to the house, we are welcomed in +the warmest possible manner by our host and his ever busy and pleasant +daughter Nora. We are installed as a part of the family, for we have +been there before--we are not strangers. Nora and her sable assistants +had prepared an abundant and inviting meal for us, and we enjoyed it +with an appetite quickened by the sail across the Sound. + +[Illustration: GOING ASHORE.] + +[Illustration: RAYMOND HALL.] + +After supper we made our arrangements for the first day's shooting, +and then retired--sinking into beds so downy as to induce sleep in a +few moments--and we do sleep just as soundly as if we had always been +wise and good and happy. The club house, "Raymond Hall," is an +ordinary frame one, situated on the shore of the Sound, a few rods +from the sea. It is surrounded by a tolerable growth of persimmon and +other trees; it stands alone, and at night is as silent as the halls +of death--not a sound being heard except the bark of the watchful +house-dogs. The wind murmurs about the angles of the house, and +through the branches of the trees, in dreary harmony with the roar of +the ocean. It is somewhat startling, for a few nights, to us denizens +of cities, to notice the entire absence of all precautions against +depredators--there are neither locks nor bolts. Life is primitive +here; all honor the head of the family, and bow to his will. The +people, young and old, are universally kind and respectful to those +strangers who sojourn among them, meeting them in a spirit of +frankness and exacting the same. We shoot whenever the weather is +suitable, and amuse ourselves at other times in various +ways--repairing boats, rigging decoys, cleaning guns, loading shell, +and making ready for a good day when it does come. We breakfast +between eight and nine o'clock, then, donning our shooting attire, +including rubber boots, which are indispensable, we go to the landing. +Wading out to our boats, laden with all the implements of destruction, +we depart for the day's sport. A small fleet of five sail starts in a +bunch like a flock of white-winged birds; the swiftest of them shoot +ahead, fading out in the distance; others disappear behind the islands +or into some of the numerous creeks, and for that day we are lost to +each other. + +[Illustration: "PHELY."] + +We meet again at night, however, and compare notes. The number of +birds each has secured, the good and bad shots, with other events of +the day, are all pleasant topics at supper. After the evening meal, +we plan the next day's business, and then, wearied, we seek our +feather beds and sleep too soundly even to dream. So we pass the days +in a sort of luxurious vagabondism. How very pleasant it is to be a +vagabond, when one may return to starched linen and the trammels of +civilization whenever one wishes! + +Our club was composed of six persons: Mondray H. Charles, Rory +Theodoric, Jas. O'Kelly, Geo. H. Crege, H. H. Josephus and Geo. G. +Paullo. Two servants accompanied the party--Steve and Jacob, Steve is +a rattling, roaring fellow, who had never before been without the +sound of the breakers of his native Long Island, and was ready to +perform any act for his friends, from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter. +Jacob, the companion of Steve, is the very opposite in all things; is +a genteel fellow, wears a clerical necktie of immaculate whiteness, +and has the appearance of having studied for the ministry, and +graduated as a cook. His table is a marvel of neatness, and his +culinary experience has enabled him to set many a tempting dish +before us. + +[Illustration: JACOB.] + +[Illustration: BLIND.] + +During our stay on the beach many amusing incidents occurred; we will +try and give some of them as they return to our memory. It may not be +uninteresting to know how and where we shoot, and so we give something +of a description. We draw lots for the choice; each selects the point, +or island, or strait, which, in his judgment will afford the best +shooting for the day, and there builds a blind. This blind is made by +breaking down the tall reeds, leaving a fence in front, next the +water, to secrete the gunner from the game. Behind this screen a sort +of nest is formed by matting down the reeds and marsh grass. It is +rendered more comfortable by spreading a rubber blanket, upon which +are arranged for use, guns, ammunition, lunch and a bottle--of water. +The decoys are placed out in long range, in such a manner as to make +them appear as natural looking as possible, and then we are ready for +business. Now here they come--a flock of seven geese, plump down among +the stool, but get up again with equal haste. Two of them are knocked +down with the breech-loader, one dead, the other only wounded--a third +stopped by the muzzle-loader. Theodoric was dreamily watching his +decoys as they danced about, when a bunch of sprig-tail swooped dawn, +hovering above the stool. He picked his bird, and dropped two with the +first barrel, and another responded to the discharge of the second. +They came tumbling down into the water--dead. One could not easily +imagine a duck's head capable of expression, but when they come +lively, alight among the dummies, and hear no quack of recognition, +they soon discover the fraud, and the frightened haste with which they +gather themselves up and attempt to make off, is expression all over. +Crege, who is one of the best amateur shots on Long Island, as a medal +now in his possession will attest, had taken his number twelve, and +walked the marshes for snipe. So far as the ducks were concerned, he +had missed the sport, but he brought in a bunch of forty-five English +snipe, which compared favorably with the success of the others. Crege +is a superior marksman, but he shoots much better when the boys gather +about the table at the club on a winter evening, where they talk their +shots over again, and trot their horses at impossible speed. O'Kelly +is one of the constitutionally chosen Senators for the great State of +New York, is a prime shot, an enthusiastic sportsman, and one of the +most genial of our friends. He had located on a distant island, and +expended powder and shot with his usual prowess--returning laden with +game. This was decidedly the best day we had had, and the score was as +follows: Charles, nineteen canvas-back, eleven teal, three geese and +twelve red-head, mallard and black duck; Theodoric brought in +sixty-five birds--canvas-back, red-head, sprig-tail and black-head; +O'Kelly, who had had surprising luck, counted fifty canvas-back, and +twenty-five common ducks. It was a good count, and the game was hung +up in the boat house with the other birds. + +[Illustration: SNIPE SHOOTING.] + +[Illustration: FIVE AT A SHOT.] + +Many of the natives are professional gunners, and haunt the marshes +day and night, shooting for market, and thus making a living. If one +cannot shoot, one may resort to these people and purchase a boat load. +It is, however, a reprehensible practice. + +There is no tide in the Sound except that which is caused by the wind, +and as high water and a stiff breeze are essential to good sport, it +is not possible to have good shooting every day. When the wind comes +from the right quarter it makes a full tide, and drives the fowl +nearer the shore and up into the creeks where they may feed. + +It was getting toward the end of our sojourn; we had experienced +several quiet balmy days--no wind, low water, general listlessness. +"Should we have any more fun?" we asked, and went to bed. About +midnight the wind came howling through the trees, the weather became +cold, and the rattling windows responded to the hope of a good day +to-morrow. Getting our breakfast early, we selected our points and +hastened to the boats. Dark clouds, flying over a dull wintry sky, +denoted a steady blow--it was cheering. The blinds were quickly +reached, and decoys thrown out. Only a few birds were flying, the +fitful wind becoming higher and higher and then dying out entirely. +The clouds, however, soon drifted away, the sun appeared as bright and +beautiful as summer--almost persuading us to take off our coats. +Disheartened at the coquettish nature of the weather, we gave it up. +Not a bird to be seen--we took our bottles, and throwing our heads +back on our shoulders, tried to look through the bottoms of +them--they in turn gave out a gurgling sound of complaining emptiness. +We fell into a refreshing sleep; the hours passed away unheeded, until +we were awakened by the rustling of the reeds bending in the breeze, +whispering of the coveted blow. Heavy black clouds were gathering, and +soon old Boreas came cracking out from the right point of the compass. + +This aroused the ducks in the open water to flight, and they came in, +seeking the shelter of the shore--a fatal protection. Charles, the +original explorer of the Sound as a sporting place, and founder of the +"Raymond Hall" Club, did some good work--taking them, right and left, +with each barrel, and dropping single blue-winged teal with unerring +aim. + +Theodoric is the most amiable, patient friend imaginable; can conduct +a bank equal to any man in New York; and we all esteem him very much. +He labors under the mild hallucination, however, that he must be +constantly doing something, and nearly all this is expended in +cleaning his gun. Morning and evening it undergoes this polishing +process, and on Sunday he rests himself by giving it another wipe. + +"It's a little leaded, you know, George," he remarks, and at it he +goes. Human nature may stand this, but guns won't. + +On one occasion when he tried to jam a cleaning rod through it, larger +than the bore, it refused to go. + +[Illustration: "I KNEW IT WOULD COME OUT."] + +"You won't, won't you," said he, as he raised it aloft and brought it +down with all his might on the floor. It went in; but the gun bulged +just as any good gun will do, and the eruption yet stands on the +barrel, a monument of his determination. + +Steve was called in, and a pulling match ensued. Steve had hold of the +gun and Thee firmly clenched the rod. The gun could stand the combined +strength of two powerful men no better than it could resist the +jamming of the rod, and they parted. Steve went backwards over Mary +Rogers, a dog, and took a moist seat in a tub of warm water, which had +been prepared for cleaning guns. Steve said the water was hot, while +our fastidious friend looked bland, gathered himself up from out a +pile of empty shells, mixed with scraps of red flannel and oil-rags, +and said "I knew it would come out." + +Josephus, the great Canarsie fisherman, is not an enthusiast about +gunning, and left his sporting traps at home. He only went down for a +few days' fishing, and was prepared to take large numbers of bluefish. +Armed with a stout line and squid, he invited us over to see him do +it. The ocean was rough, and came rolling up in long heavy swells; the +fish were far out at sea. After getting his line arranged to his +satisfaction, he took firm hold of it a few feet above the squid; we +all looked admiringly on. By a series of dexterous gyrations about his +head he sent it flying a hundred feet out into the water--it was +beautifully done. Skillfully he hauled it in, hand over hand. The +squid followed, as bright and shining as when he had cast it out, but +no fish. He made ready again, and with that nonchalant air of a man +who feels perfectly sure that he can do just what he wants to, he gave +it that preparatory whirling motion again, and away it went. + +The best efforts will fail sometimes, and the most skillful are often +doomed to disappointment--it was so in this case. The hook did not go +for a blue fish, but fastened itself in the leg of a too confiding dog +that stood looking curiously on, just as those canine friends of man +so often do. The misguided animal went howling away, and had to be +captured and the hook extracted. + +[Illustration: A QUEER FISH.] + +He felt sure he could do it, however, and he tried it again, with as +much preparation as before, and twice the determination; he missed the +sea altogether, and the barbed instrument buried itself into that +portion of male wearing apparel that comes in contact with the chair, +when one indulges in that agreeable and refreshing posture of sitting +down: they will need repairing. + +Paullo is a good shot--with a knife and fork--and can look on at +others who are doing hard work, with more nerve and complacency than +any man who visits the Sound. He had been persuaded to go to a certain +pond where ducks were abundant and easy to shoot. This was good; he +put his decoys out and waited. A bird was coming down--it went among +the stool. It was a beautiful specimen of the feathered tribe, with a +bill like a crow. In some places it is known as a crow duck, but the +proper local name here is "blue-peter." Blue-peter seemed to have no +fear, but sported around and among the dummies, and tossed the bright +drops of water from its shining plumage. With the true feelings of a +sportsman, Paullo wanted the bird to have a fair chance, and so tossed +bunches of marsh grass at it--it would not fly. Picking up his gun he +fired, wounding several decoys. + +[Illustration: BATTLE WITH BLUE-PETER.] + +The battle raged all that day and the next, blue-peter diving at the +flash of the gun, and defiantly coming up and wailing for it to be +reloaded. + +[Illustration: STRUCK IT WITH A CLUB.] + +[Illustration: THE CONQUEROR.] + +On the morning of the third day, our Nimrod was late. When he arrived, +the duck was there patiently waiting to renew the fight, and was +busily engaged picking the shot from the bottom of the pond, tossing +it up and catching it in its bill as it came down. With such a gunner +and such game, this might last a week. Strategy was resorted to, and +when blue-peter went under at the flash, our hero waded out and struck +it with a club as it came to the surface. The victory was not to the +duck. Late that evening Steve and Jacob were seen carrying from the +landing to the house the dead B. P., strung by the neck to the centre +of a ten-foot pole, one pall-bearer at each end, and the conqueror +leading the procession. On his arrival he was greeted by his fellow +members with that distinguished consideration which our people so +freely accord to actors of great deeds. + +We remained on the beach four weeks, and had many pleasant days. We +have now returned to our respective homes, wearied in body but +refreshed in mind, well pleased with our trip, with each other, and +with a decided inclination for a repetition of the jaunt. + +[Illustration: JOE CREED.] + +We cannot leave the subject without paying tribute to our friend and +companion, Joe Creed. Joe is a large resolute dog of an amiable +disposition, a dirty yellow coat, and a small bright eye of the same +color. He has a keen sense of duty, but never leaves the blind until +he sees the game falling, when he proceeds to bring it in. He was +undoubtedly born for it. If two birds fall, with almost human +intelligence he gets both. Taking the farthest first, stopping on his +way in to pick up the other, he comes in with one swinging on each +side of his great shaggy head. They tell of him that he has been +caught stealing sheep. We do not believe it--it is a mistake; he may +have been in bad company, that is all. Joe was the property of a +gentleman on Long Island, and we trusted his exploits in the North +might vie with his achievements in the South. + + "When some proud son of man returns to earth, + Unknown to glory but upheld by birth, + The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, + And storied urns record who rests below; + When all is done, upon the tomb is seen, + Not what he was, but what he should have been; + But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, + The first to welcome, foremost to defend; + Whose heart is still his master's own, + Who labors, fights, lives, breathes for him alone, + Unhonored falls." + +But Joe came to an untimely end; he was found shot to death. The +following was placed over his grave: + + "Near this spot + Are deposited the remains of one + Who possessed beauty without vanity, + Strength without insolence, + Courage without ferocity, +And all the virtues of man without his vices." + +_Born in North Carolina, March, 1875._ +_Died at Jamaica, Long Island, March, 1876._ + + * * * * * + + + + +THE HAUNTED ISLAND. + + "A jolly place," said he, "in times of old, + But something ails it now; the place is curst." + + +Far up the Potomac, in the shadow of the mountains, among the hundreds +of small islands which dot the river in that picturesque region, is +one which has the reputation of being haunted. It is but a few miles +above the ferry at the Point of Rocks, and is unknown to the thousands +of persons who are whirled past there every year in the railroad +trains. + +This island is about fifty acres in extent, and is bordered with +stately oaks to the very river's edge--whose waters lave their roots; +its margin is paved with pearly pebbles, while the drooping branches +of the trees, festooned with tangled vines of every hue, hang down in +glorious clusters, toying with the blue stream which runs beneath. The +scenery here is truly enchanting. Islands of every size seem floating +in a charmed atmosphere; to pass one pleasing spot is but to disclose +another more beautiful than the last. Some are covered with a forest +growth; others cultivated, and waving in the summer breeze with yellow +ripening grain; and yet others are overgrown with varied shrubs, +filled with singing birds, and wild flowers breathing perfume. + +I had been fishing--had fished the river from the ferry up above and +around the island. I was well satisfied with the day's sport, and was +sitting in the stern of the boat in a sort of day dream. Jasper, my +boatman, was gently guiding the little vessel to keep it from striking +the many projecting rocks, as well as to prevent it from gliding too +rapidly down the current. The river, changed to a dark green color, +from the reflected foliage, ran now deep and sluggish against the huge +boulders which stand defiantly up: now over shallow places, shining +with silver sand, fretting itself into white foam and flinging up jets +of spray as if in anger. Waking from my reverie, I said: + +"Jasper, that is a tranquil-looking island; to whom does it belong?" + +Jasper shook his woolly head as if he were puzzled, and with the air +of a person about to impart some awful secret, replied: + +"Dat don't belong to nobody; dat's haunted." + +"Haunted, Jasper! that is impossible. There are no such things as +haunted places." + +"Well, massa," he replied, his faith still unshaken, "dat's what I was +tole long, long years ago when I was a chile. Ye could hear noises +comin' fum da like distress, and dem sounds war jined wid de talkin' +ob men." + +"Very likely, but such sounds came from persons on the island, and +they were living, just as you and I are." + +"Dar war sounds," answered my boatman, "but da warn't no people on dat +island. Dem sounds warn't ob dis world." + +Such an opinion could not be weakened, for my dusky companion had been +raised in this local superstition and it was as firmly rooted as was +his faith in future forgiveness, and so I merely inquired: + +"Is there a house there, Jasper?" + +"Yes sar," said he, promptly, "da am a big squar one right in de +middle ob it." + +"We must go and see what it looks like, and try to learn where those +sounds came from." + +"S'cuse me, massa, dis chile don't set he foot on dat lan', kase ef he +do, he neber leabe it agin." + +"Then if you are afraid," said I, tauntingly, "I will go alone; you +wait until I return." + +"Massa," implored the frightened negro, "don't go; you neber kum back; +you is lost." + +"Take me as near the shore as you dare go, and leave me there." + +"Good-bye, massa; you is lost foreber." + +Jasper took up the oar and pushed as near the shore as the shallow +water would permit; the keel of the boat grated on the sandy shore. I +stepped over the side of the boat and waded close up under the +overhanging branches, and forced my way through the dense growth which +shut this mysterious place from human sight. My black friend was +right; in the centre of the island stood the remains of a large stone +mansion, surrounded by what had once been a well-kept lawn. The grass +was growing green and rank, mingled with weeds, and both were +struggling for the mastery. Broken statues of costly marble and +workmanship were lying scattered about; great flower vases, shattered, +and green with the mould and moss of years, were covered with weak and +flowerless creepers. + +The house is a two-story one with windows on every side, or rather +openings which had been windows at some former period. The dangling +remains of a heavy porch hung over the doorway, ready to fall and +crush the first careless intruder, while the massive oak doors stood +wide open as if to invite the victim within. The cornice was dropping +to pieces, and the woodwork had only the appearance of solidity--it +needed but the pressure of a hand to crumble into dust. The walls were +yet perfect, for they had been built of irregular sized stones, laid +up in cement, and so had outlasted the more perishable parts of this +costly structure. Inside the great doors was a wide hall of about +twenty feet, and its floors of hard wood had stood the test of time +remarkably. On one side of the hall was a room the whole depth of the +house; the ceiling was lofty, but the plaster had long since fallen +and become mere powder. It was empty; patches of mould had fastened +upon the walls, and a damp decaying odor pervaded the air; insects and +loathsome reptiles crept over the floor. On the opposite side of the +hall were two apartments, but not enough of either remained to divine +what had been their uses. In a small back room there yet was to be +seen a great open fire-place capacious enough to roll in a good-sized +tree; a swinging crane was bolted to the corner of the chimney, +supporting hanging hooks, blackened by soot; it had doubtless been the +kitchen. Having fully explored the lower part, I proceeded to the +upper story. As I mounted the stairs, they groaned under the unusual +weight, but were still strong enough to enable me to complete the task +I had undertaken. The upper floor was divided into four large +chambers. Three of them were given up to decay, and desolation peered +from every corner and crevice. Bats had made their nests in and about +the broken places, and hung in bunches from the ceiling; the twitter +of the young swallows could be heard plainly from the chimneys. I +passed on to the fourth room; that was not vacant. Although the sash +had long since dropped in pieces, and fragments of glass yet littered +the floor, this chamber was occupied; not indeed by any living thing, +but by the inanimate remains of a once proudly furnished mansion, and +also by yet one other object, which though not living had the power of +movement. In one corner stood an old fashioned high-post bedstead, of +the finest curled maple, curiously carved and ornamented. A sort of +frame held the tops of the posts together, from which still hung +threads of costly curtains intertwined with cobwebs, and stained with +dust and damp atmosphere. There were no chairs, no tables, but in +another corner of the apartment stood an antique writing-desk, with +metal handles to the drawers, and brass feet fashioned after the claws +of the lion, older than the bedstead which occupied the other corner. +Its polish and usefulness had passed away with the grandeur of this +silent habitation. Between two of the windows was a space of six feet +in width, reaching from the floor to the cornice. This was all +occupied by a life-size portrait of a female, which looked as fresh +and fair as the day it left the hands of the artist. All else about +this solemn place was weird and death-like; there she stood in her +loveliness, as if just attired for some merry-making; her rosy lips +seemed ready to break out into song and laughter and shout, to startle +this ghostly scene. + +"What could this mean?" I asked myself. "Why had all the work of man +perished, crumbled into dust, and this lovely image not suffered the +inevitable decay? Who was she, that she could stand here untouched +amid this ruin--defying time? Was it the semblance of the mistress of +this once rich abode? Had she loved with more ardor than reason? Was +she waiting for some one to enter this doomed edifice that we might +tell her story and fulfill her destiny?" I asked myself all these +questions over again, as I stood spell-bound, gazing at this beautiful +vision. She was symmetry itself; her hair was golden-hued, and flowed +in sunny profusion down over her beauteous neck and shoulders; the +painter's art had not exaggerated her natural grace and dignity--she +was beauty unadorned. The dress was of white satin, with the puffed +sleeves and short waist of the last century. A broad pink sash, +fastened in front at the waist, reached down to a pair of tiny feet, +clothed in rich embroidered slippers. I felt as if I was in the +presence of a living human being, and that she might at any moment +chide me for breaking the silence of this desolate place--for +disturbing its quiet. + +With that feeling of superstition which runneth in the blood of man, I +shuddered, grew weak and faint; great drops of cold perspiration +started out from my forehead, and I turned to see if some supernatural +mechanism had not closed the door and entombed me with the lovely +phantom. It was still open; its rust-eaten hinges had long since +ceased to act. I was free to go, but, with the infatuation of +curiosity, I could not move; I stood in my tracks and ventured to look +again. + +A sound of rustling drapery startled me. Great heavens! this image, +which seemed a moment before but a part of the solid wall, had moved +and stood in the centre of the room. Slowly she raised her right arm, +and with extended finger pointed to the old and faded escritoire. +Mechanically my eyes took the direction toward which she pointed. I +saw the doors of the cabinet tumble from their fastenings and fall to +the floor with a startling crash, while her attitude commanded me, +imperatively, to examine the recesses of this sepulchre of a long +buried secret. I did so. In it was nothing except a small time-stained +memorandum-book, the edges fastened by a silver clasp. I took it up. +It contained the following strange story of the Haunted Island. Here +it is: + + "MARRIED.--On the 27th of May, 1794, at Rock Creek church, + in the territory of Columbia, by the Rev. Mr. Rolf, John + Othard to Marie Othard." + +"John Othard and myself were cousins; we had been brought up beneath +the same roof, and been schoolmates and constant companions from +childhood. He was my boyish lover and protector. He had grown to +manhood, I was a few years younger, and we had vowed eternal constancy +to each other. When, however, too late, our parents discovered our +fondness for each other, and knew that we were betrothed, they +interposed objections; and after exhausting all mild means, they +threatened us with their displeasure, said they would disown and +disinherit us; that if we persevered, we must be outcast and +wanderers--go out from under the paternal roof forever; that the union +would be unlawful and wicked. The tie of blood, they said, was too +close, and could be fruitful only of misery and ruin--an unhappy, +sinful match. We had been walking, John and I, and talking as usual +over our doleful fate and prospects, and what seemed to us the absurd +notions of our parents. He had been trying to persuade me to disregard +what he termed the obstinacy of the old folks, and said impatiently: + +"'Come, Marie, when will you consent to be mine? We are old enough to +judge of our own affairs. If our families are determined on driving us +out with scorn, let us be equally so to convince them how very +harmlessly it will fall. I can support you; they may keep their money, +and bestow their curses.' + +"'No, not yet, John; let this cloud which now hangs over us pass away +first; it may, ere long, be dispelled. They may relent, and then, how +very happy we shall be to know that we did not court the anger of our +relatives. Let us not act hastily.' + +"'Ah! my dear Marie, women do not understand these matters quite as +well as men. I really think you share their idle superstitions. Do you +not?' + +"'You may call them superstitions if you will, but my sense of +propriety tells me that we should wait. We could not be happy with +their malediction pending over us.' + +"'That is prattle. Notwithstanding these fears, we may be as +prosperous and happy as though we had come from the opposite sides of +the earth, and if you consent, they will be compelled to acknowledge +it. + +"'Our marriage, when solemnized by the proper authorities, will be as +far above their idle prejudices as the heavens are above us all.' + +"'Still, John, we must wait.' + +"'Yes, and wait. Who ever taught us, until it was too late, that we +were growing up in sin--if it is sin? + +"'Why did they permit the seed of our childish friendship to ripen +into the full flower of love, and then blast it with the frost of +parental authority?' + +"'Dear John, do not lose your temper. I think you are right in that, +but let us be brave, and not set aside, too lightly, our duty to those +whose only solicitude can be that we do no wrong.' + +"'I was a little impatient, to be sure. I will respect your wish, +Marie. I will wait, but it must not be here. + +"'I will go out into the busy world for a year or two, and then return +to claim you. If I do not come back to you rich, I will at least have +enough to give us a good start in the world.' + +"'John,' I said, placing my hand in his, 'I shall miss you very much, +and be very lonely. Be careful, John, that you do not bring with you a +wife, to give us a practical demonstration that your love was a mere +fancy.' + +"'Not I, dearest; I will remain as true to you, through every +vicissitude, as I now think you to be true. + +"'But you, who knows but I may live to find that you have obviated +the trouble by marrying a man who is not your cousin, just to make the +theory of certain persons good?' + +"'Trust me; I am worthy of your love; and now, good bye. God bless and +care for you.' + +"'May He bless and protect you, Marie.' + +"'He went off that same day. For the first few months his letters to +me were frequent, and always filled with sentiments of love and +constancy. Then the intervals became longer, and longer, then ceased +altogether. 'He is in a large city, I thought, and in the whirl of +excitement, he has already forgotten me; some other, perhaps, has +taken my place; his heart has another idol. No, I reasoned with +myself; that cannot be, he has become very poor and has married for +money, thinking I would never relent.' + +"'Months passed rapidly away, faded into years, and yet no tidings +came. This silence and uncertainty were wearing tear channels down my +cheeks. I waited on; and though pained and sickened, like a true +woman I never allowed my tongue to disclose the anguish I suffered. +The wolf was gnawing at my heart; if the lines I felt growing more +marked on my features did not tell the story, it was my secret, and I +kept it.' + +"'One morning, after an absence of three years, John suddenly made his +appearance--without a note of warning. He seemed somewhat older, and +his face had lost that impetuous look of boyhood. But he was handsome +ever, and just the same loving fellow.' + +"'I am so rejoiced to be at home again. I have been thinking of you +constantly, Marie.' + +"'Why, then, have you been absent so long, and why for two years have +you not written to me--not even a line?' + +"'I have been fighting in a great, crowded city for a competency. The +battle was fierce and long; sometimes I was lost in the busy, swaying +multitude; but I have gained it, and I am here to know if you will go +and share it with me." + +"'Yes, I am ready and willing to go, though I am sure we shall be +driven out and away from the family fold; be branded as wantons, +outcasts, by all we love most dear.' + +"'Leave your fears outside the church door, my darling, for we can +defy them so far as money is the question. I have enough. We will +build ourselves a home in some retired spot, and be so happy that they +will seek us, and be ashamed of their conduct when they see how they +have erred.' + +"I could not resist such persuasion from the only man I had ever +loved. I consented at once, and the next day we were married. In +accord with my own desire, we bought this embowered island, and built +this spacious home. It had everything in and about it that taste could +fancy and wealth purchase. It was quite a heaven for me. We were so +happy, and he never left me. We sat beneath the grand old trees and +talked of our future prospects, read our favorite books, and I loved +those best which we had read together. It seemed too much happiness to +last long; sometimes I felt as if the shadow of sorrow was threatening +our home. Yet all was serene, and I dismissed my fears. It had not yet +come; but it was coming though, as slowly yet as surely as the distant +muttering of thunder portends the approaching storm. An indefinable +dread of something impending clung to me. I could not rid myself of +it. My husband now commenced absenting himself from home. He had +business in this city, and then in that one; his journeys became more +frequent and of longer duration. After one of these visits he returned +wearied and not at all like himself; care was on his brow, and his +manner betokened some great grief. I said: + +"'John, dear, it is two weeks since you left me, and you promised to +return the same day. What is the matter? are you in trouble? You must +be, for your face has that pinched look which nothing but extreme +anxiety can produce. Confide in me.' + +"'Nothing very serious, my dear child,' he replied, 'it will soon be +over; only a temporary embarrassment; some unlucky speculations.' Then +he gave me a kiss, smiled as he used to do, and said I was a baby. + +"'Ah, John, your words buoy me up and make me feel almost happy +again.' + +"'Let us speak of it no more, and when I have my business all in shape +again, I will never leave you, but remain here, where, if you cannot +see me every moment, you can hear me.' + +"'Oh, that will be such joy for me. But do you know, John, that while +I have waited, and waited, to hear the splash of the oars as you +crossed from the shore, I have conjured up all sorts of things? +Sometimes I have thought that perhaps--' + +"'Perhaps what?' + +"'That the chains of Cupid had been woven around you during your first +absence, and that you might have returned to her who--' + +"'Just what a foolish woman always supposes. Why I have been as true +to you as the waters of the glorious river, which sweeps past our +island home, have been constant in their tendency toward the sea.' + +"'I believe it, and now you will pardon me, will you, not?' + +"'Of course I do,' he continued; 'and, had I been as faithful to +myself as I have been loyal to you, I would not now be suffering the +woe you have so plainly seen on my face.' + +"'Tell me, dear, for I can guide you out of it--I know I can.' + +"'No, not now,' he answered; then he kissed me and walked away. + +"Something terrible was coming--I knew it. The curses which had been +heaped upon us for disobedience were about to bear fruit. Now, +strange, rough-looking men came to see my husband--persons whom I had +not seen before. They seemed familiar with him; it was evident, +however, that their presence was distasteful to him; he tried to keep +them at a distance, he shrank from them. I said I did not like these +acquaintances; he replied that they were commercial friends, and must +be treated with respect. They had long and mysterious conversations +together. They would go to the other shore and return, bringing other +companions equally ill-looking. + +"One dark night the dip of oars was heard, and as the boat was run +upon the pebbly shore, four men stepped briskly out, and laboriously +lifted and carried a large, heavy, oblong box, and placed it in the +cellar. John said it was merchandise, and must be stored; it was +unsalable now, and it was best to keep it until there was a market +for it. + +"'But, John, why can it not be stored in the city, where it would be +at hand when the demand arises for it, and why do these +uncouth-looking men bring it at the dead of night? It would have been +easier, and certainly more pleasant, to have brought it in the +daylight.' + +"'My dear little sweetheart,' he turned and said abruptly, 'women know +nothing of business matters, and you would not understand me if I +explained it all.' + +"'You are deceiving me; for it does not require a business education +to enable one to guess that there might be something wrong about a +midnight transaction such as this.' + +"He deigned no explanation, but answered half kindly, half +sarcastically, 'Good night; ask no more of your puzzling questions. +Take this kiss; you are a little nervous and disturbed in temper, you +need rest--go to bed.' + +"He dismissed me with another kiss, as he had often done before. It +was the first to have a tinge of bitterness to it. I was far from +satisfied. What could this occupation be, that required him to remain +away so long and gather about him such associates? He had been gone a +whole month. Oh, what a weary, unhappy, dreary month that was for +me!--I thought it would never end. Why could not the fates let loose +their wrath all at once? Why was not all revealed? I wept myself +asleep, and was frightened into wakefulness by some horrid dream. I +took up the newspaper and tried to read it; the letters all ran +together. It was the Alexandria _Times and Advertiser_, of May, 1798. +Instinctively my eyes caught the following notice: + + "_Counterfeit Dollars._ The public are requested to be on + their guard with respect to a number of counterfeit dollars + of the United States, now passing in this city. They are + made of block-tin and pewter, and, if not quite new, may be + detected on sight. They are well cast, and, therefore, the + impression is exact; but the milling around the edge is + nothing like the true dollar, thereby may be easily known. + They are about four penny-weights too light." + +"The paper fell from my hands. Why I could not tell, and yet the +reading of that paragraph seemed connected with my life. Had that box +merchandise in it? Had my husband become one of a gang of base money +coiners? He could not have fallen so low; he was too good and too +honest. That mysterious box was always present, turn which way I +would. I felt impelled to go to the cellar and examine it. There could +be no harm in merely looking; it would ease my troubled brain. I took +the lantern and stealthily groped my way down into the damp earthy +atmosphere. It was silent as death there; the dim light revealed +nothing but the box. I held the lantern up over it, and the uncertain +flickering of its rays fell upon the lid. There was no denying the +ownership, it was marked in large bold letters, 'John Othard.' Now, I +must know what it contained; I could wait no longer; a sort of +determined malice took possession of me to connect it with the +newspaper, and with my husband--fiendish thought. I did not desire to +prove him other than the pure and noble man I had loved; but I was not +myself--I would do it just to still my excited suspicions. Putting the +lamp down over the name, as if that could blot it out, I went up the +creaking steps, and hastened back with the axe firmly clenched in +both hands, as if I feared a rescue. Placing the light on the earth +floor, I hesitated whether to strike or not--the blow was to reveal +joy or eternal misery to me. To leave the fatal box to itself, and go +to my chamber, was to be racked with horrible doubts. I seized again +the axe, and with repeated blows splintered the cover; then, with +bleeding hands I ripped it off and hurled it from me. Yes, there, +wrapped in rolls, shining with damnable brilliancy, was my husband's +secret. I was first stunned then frantic; cursed myself and him; +wished I had been unable to read; that I had been blind, dead, rather +than find him whom I had enshrined in my heart of hearts as a god, so +unworthy. He would go to a felon's cell--perhaps to an ignominious +death--and me, where could I go? I left the dreadful thing uncovered; +as I backed away from it toward the stairway, those glittering +witnesses grinned at me. I walked the floor all night--I could not +rest. The angel of sleep had fled, frightened at the discord in my +frame, and the angel of death was spreading his baneful wings over me. + +"Dawn surprised with its unwelcome light, and found me a shivering, +crouching wretch. That incestuous love with which we had defied the +fates, had now borne its full fruit. + +"About mid-day John came home. Despair had cooled me. I handed him the +paper and pointed to the notice. I watched his eager face while he +read it. He flushed and paled, and raising his eyes to meet mine, +asked if I knew all. + +"'Yes, I do know all. The box contains base coin. I have seen them. +They are there, and will consign you to a prison and me to my grave; +that is, if there lives one single, pitying human being, who will take +the trouble to heap the sod over a friendless, homeless wretch, as I +now am.' + +"'Calm yourself, darling; they cannot connect me with it. I will bury +it. But few persons know of it, and they dare not tell.' + +"He went to the cellar. I could hear him working away and talking +excitedly to himself. I approached the steps and listened. He had +ceased for a moment, I could hear his heavy breathing. I stepped down +a few steps; he turned toward me, coat off; his face grimed with +perspiration and dirt, he glared upon me. 'Aha, you come too late; I +have concealed it, I am not the owner of it; you cannot prove _me_ +guilty.' His mind was wandering; he imagined the officers were come to +take him. I moved toward him; a pistol shot, a heavy fall, and he had +escaped--so far as human penalty was concerned. Here I was, alone, on +this accursed island; even the servants had fled in terror, and left +me with the dead body of my husband. His blood ran from the wound, and +formed in little pools, which the thirsty black earth drank, and left +no stain. Now was I strong with frenzy; the method of madness was on +me; I seized the tools, which the suicide had left, and commenced to +dig what must now be a grave--wider, and deeper, and longer I dug it; +then settled the body into it; and covering it up, heaped and rounded +it. I did not mind the work; it was excitement and kept me from dying. +I went out into the open air--it was not yet light--the peaceful +heavens gave no sign of wrath, and the bright twinkling stars looked +down upon this scene of crime, and madness, and suicide, as serenely +as they had before the island was changed from a domestic paradise to +a pandemonium. I hear him calling, as if from the river; it is a +stifled cry for assistance. I must go to him. I can save him, and +I--" + +The newspaper of that period contained the following: + + "The body of a female was found floating in the river at the + Great Falls of the Potomac--Unknown." + + * * * * * + + + + +THE FAIRIES OF WARM SPRING MOUNTAIN. + +A LEGEND OF BERKELEY SPRINGS. + + +To one who has not lived in a mountain country the abounding beauty +of those sequestered regions is unknown. The mountains, blue, dim, and +mysterious, with range backing range, and pillaring the heavens, lift +their mist-enveloped peaks far above this breathing, thinking world. +There the wild deer roams in solitude and security, and there the +daring of man has never penetrated. Grim old sentinels, clothed with +verdure to their very summits, frown down upon coeval valleys which +they protect, and through which they send their bower-born springs +with gurgling music to the smiling plains, and onward, broadening into +majestic rivers. The valleys, as if conscious of and grateful for the +protection, run up to meet and embrace their gigantic guardians, with +offerings of wild flowers and many-hued foliage. Afar off a human +habitation clings to the side of the steep mount, surrounded by fields +of emerald hue; a homestead, hewn from the primeval forest. + +Leafless trees, blasted and riven by the angry elements, stretch their +scathed limbs for mercy, while their earthless roots writhe like +knotted reptiles and twist into hideous shapes. Roads, toiling lazily +over steeps, gray, rugged, and rutty, lead away to unknown regions. A +bald spot--rock--whose face has borne the violence of the storm for +ages, yet defiantly stands there, inviting the fury of its ancient +enemy. The clouds, broken into fantastic forms, cast gossamer shadows, +which go floating phantom-like, away, as unreal as spirits and as +tranquil as the promised land. Jutting crags, piled up in grotesque +confusion, capped by monstrous rocky platforms, overhang the leafy +depths. The rail track, like a glistening serpent, winds its way along +the narrow shore, and over bridges light and fanciful, mere webs, spun +by human spiders, spanning streams which foam their anger through +narrow passes. Beneath, in a distant valley, the river, like a shining +thread, flows on through tangled thickets, past populous towns and +lowly huts. + +But these mountain solitudes were not always so lonely. Ages gone by, +when the world first began, they were peopled by a race of fairies. +These little creatures lived and reveled in these grand old forests, +and made them joyous with their merry shouts and sports. They knew no +care, and nightly gathered beneath the spreading branches, sporting +until the gray of morning drove them to their hiding places. They +wantoned in the cool streams and swung in the pendant flowering vines, +while the moon sent her silvery light down through the trembling +leaves to light them on their way. The daylight was hateful to them, +and all day long they passed the time in secret bowers and mossy +recesses, away from the light, and only left them when the starry +heavens bade them forth again to their nightly revels. + +Thus, these happy little people lived, and far and near through all +the woods, yielded willing allegiance to a queen, majestic, lovely, +and beloved by her tribes. Her sway was mild, for mutual kindness was +the bond between them. But for a long time her sorrowing followers had +noticed that her sweet face wore a troubled look; that she had not as +usual joined in their pleasures, nor even approved of them. They felt +that some dreadful secret filled her heart and clouded her brow, yet +what it was none dared to ask, and she herself remained silent. They +would willingly have died to free her from this sorrow, but they knew +not what to do. They surrounded her and said: + +"Beloved sovereign, may we not share thy grief?" + +"It may be, soon," she replied. + +"Have we caused you pain? Have we not been dutiful?" + +"My sorrow, dear people, is not of your creation; you have ever been +loving, faithful subjects." + +"What, then, can we do to show our devotion to you?" + +"Our season of enjoyment, my subjects, is almost gone, and soon we +must hide ourselves to escape the cold. When the spring returns again +you shall learn it all; until then seek to know no more." + +The winter was dead and passed away, and the genial breath of spring +wafted silently over his grave, evoking glowing treasures from the +ruin he had left. The earth, alive again, put forth its most beautiful +creations, and tempted once more the fairies of the mountains to +appear. The queen, true to her promise, sent swift messengers to her +remotest people; she summoned them all to her presence. They came in +troops, and filled the mountain tops and sides, and reached down into +the valleys. She welcomed them as they approached her. In majesty she +was seated upon a summer throne. It was formed of the finest woods of +the forest, and quaintly fashioned by the little work-people. It was +cushioned with the most delicate mosses, and wild vines had been +trained up and over and around it, blending charmingly with the rustic +woodwork. Above her tiny head spread a canopy of delicate twigs, +twisted into fantastic shapes by skillful hands, and roofed with the +glittering wings of the rarest insects, overlapped with such exactness +that not even a drop of dew could penetrate. It was right royal, and +she was worthy of it. Near the queen's pavilion were ranged the +principal leaders of the various tribes, together with her most +favored advisers. + +Her eyes, sad and mournful, wandered over this vast assemblage of +devoted friends. + +"My people," she commenced, "as I promised, I have called you from +your sylvan abodes to impart what I have too long concealed. It has +been known to myself alone that the period for our allotted stay upon +earth has almost expired. In a short time we must go, forever, from +these scenes of pleasure--from these woody retreats where we have +known so many joys. Our places will soon be taken by the sons of men. +It is our fate that when they come we must disappear. Through all our +lives we have done nothing but waste our time in pursuit of mere +pleasure, hastening the time of our banishment and doing good to no +one. Like the bees, fluttering from flower to flower, we will have +sipped the sweets of life and left no mark that we ever existed. It is +my wish ere we go, that we do something by which we may be remembered. + +"Let us bestow upon mankind a gift so great that it shall last them +forever, and which they may enjoy and bless us for to the end of time. +Such a gift is within our reach, but we have never sought it for +ourselves." + +With one voice they said-- + +"What shall it be? The will of our queen is our pleasure." + +"I was sure of it," she said. "Now listen: It is known to us all that +within this very mountain the purest waters are imprisoned. But we can +release them; these crystal streams must be set free from their +subterranean channels and brought sparkling to the surface." + +They all bowed obedience, and asked when this great task should be +commenced. + +"Let the preparation for this arduous undertaking go forward," she +said, "now while the summer is with us. Waste not the time; let our +whole people be employed in making instruments suitable for breaking +the crust which confines the treasure we are going to bring forth for +the benefit of mankind. We must hasten to our work and be diligent. I +dismiss you, but assemble again when next the dreary winter is past +and the genial sun warms the buds into leaflets--when the upland rills +have found their voices once more, and come leaping from their hidden +birthplaces." + +The gentle summer had passed, the winter had again come and gone, and +the troops were gathering in response to the command of their +mistress. They had been industrious. Each came armed with a stout +staff, made from the toughest wood and shod with the hardest flint. In +myriads they arrived--whole armies of them--and eagerly awaited the +command to go forward. They moved in column, headed by captains, down +the steep declivities. They toiled with a will. Many died of fatigue, +but their places were soon filled by other eager workers. At length +their toil was rewarded, and the bright and beautiful waters gushed +forth in great fountains. + +The fairies have long since disappeared, but the waters still flow and +fill the little valley with sweet, health-giving streams. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Nick Baba's Last Drink and Other +Sketches, by George P. 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