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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of A gallop among American scenery, by
-Augustus E. Silliman
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: A gallop among American scenery
-       or, Sketches of American scenes and military adventure
-
-Author: Augustus E. Silliman
-
-Release Date: October 7, 2022 [eBook #69111]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading
-             Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
-             images generously made available by The Internet
-             Archive/American Libraries.)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GALLOP AMONG AMERICAN
-SCENERY ***
-
-
-
-
-
-
-                                    A
-                                 GALLOP
-                                  AMONG
-                            AMERICAN SCENERY:
-                                   OR,
-                                SKETCHES
-                                   OF
-                 AMERICAN SCENES AND MILITARY ADVENTURE
-
-                                   BY
-                          AUGUSTUS E. SILLIMAN.
-
-                             [Illustration]
-
-                                NEW-YORK:
-                    D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY.
-
-                              PHILADELPHIA:
-                  GEO. S. APPLETON, 148 CHESNUT STREET.
-
-                              M DCCC XLIII.
-
-        Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843,
-                         BY D. APPLETON AND CO.,
-      In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Southern
-                          District of New-York.
-
-                           H. LUDWIG, PRINTER,
-                           72 Vesey-st., N. Y.
-
-
-
-
-                                   TO
-                          BENJAMIN D. SILLIMAN,
-                                  THIS
-                              LITTLE VOLUME
-                                   IS
-                        AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED,
-                                   BY
-                              HIS BROTHER.
-
-
-
-
-A number of the following Sketches have appeared at intervals in the
-columns of the New-York American.
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS.
-
-
-        I. BANKS OF THE POTOMAC                  1
-
-       II. THE COUNTRY PASTOR                    8
-
-      III. MOUNT VERNON                         13
-
-       IV. MEDICAL STUDENT                      25
-
-        V. THE RESURRECTIONISTS                 39
-
-       VI. OLD KENNEDY, NO. I.                  44
-
-      VII. OLD KENNEDY, NO. II.                 53
-
-     VIII. OLD KENNEDY, NO. III.                59
-
-       IX. OLD KENNEDY, NO. IV.                 68
-
-        X. LEE’S PARTISAN LEGION                78
-
-       XI. HUDSON RIVER                        107
-
-      XII. NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE           113
-
-     XIII. BATTLE OF LUNDY’S LANE              120
-
-      XIV. LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA         131
-
-       XV. MONTREAL                            139
-
-      XVI. THE NUN                             144
-
-     XVII. CATARACTS OF NIAGARA                148
-
-    XVIII. MOUNT HOLYOKE                       155
-
-      XIX. WHITE MOUNTAINS                     160
-
-       XX. BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT            169
-
-      XXI. BRENTON’S REEF                      176
-
-     XXII. OLD TRINITY STEEPLE                 185
-
-    XXIII. LONG ISLAND SOUND                   201
-
-     XXIV. GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY                 220
-
-           APPENDIX                            233
-
-
-
-
-BANKS OF THE POTOMAC.
-
-
-No.—State-street—(storm without)—apartment strewed with sundry bachelor
-appurtenances, fronting on the Battery—a gentleman, in dressing-gown and
-embroidered slippers, measuring the room with hasty strides—exclaimeth
-impatiently—
-
-North-east by the flags of the shipping in the bay! North-east by the
-chill rain dashing on the window panes! North-east by the weather-cocks
-on all the steeples, from St. Paul’s to the dog-vane on the stable end!
-_North-east_ by the ache of every bone in my body! Eheu! What’s to be
-done? No going abroad in this torrent. I’ve read all the landlady’s
-little library. How shall I kill the enemy? I’ll whistle; vulgar. Sing;
-I can’t. There are the foils and the gloves. Pshaw! I have no friend to
-pommel or pink; besides, the old lady in the room below, has nerves.
-Whew! how it pours. I’ll—I’ll—stand and look out into the street.
-Jupiter! how near the bread-cart came to going over the chimney sweep.
-Poor Sooty—how he grins! He owes the worm no silk—whatever obligations
-his rags may be under to the sheep. Poor fellow! Holloa! ho! blackey;
-catch this quarter, and get you a hot breakfast. There goes that
-confounded battery gate again! bang—bang—night and day. There’s never a
-loafer takes his morning promenade, or even siesta on the grass, but must
-needs follow his dirty face through that particular gate.
-
-Alas! me miserable. What shall I do? The spirit of ennui rides me as
-thoroughly as did the “old man of the sea” Sinbad the sailor. Eh! they’re
-the dumb bells. Diminish nervous excitability, by muscular exertion.
-Good!—humph; and there’s the old lady’s nerves below. How the wind roars
-and rumbles round the chimney tops. Rain—rain—rain. There! that tin spout
-is choked, and the gutter is pouring over a young cataract. Oh! that I
-were a newspaper carrier, or a whale—or the sea serpent, chasing the down
-East fishermen—or—in short, any thing, so that I need not mind the wet.
-Hum—hum—what shall I do? I have it. Eureka! I have it. I’ll sit down and
-give my friend of the American an account of my last ramble.
-
-(Rolleth his chair up to the table at the fire—crosseth his legs on the
-fender—and proceedeth to nib his pen.) Now for it. (Writes.)
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-You well recollect, my dear Mr. Editor, the arguments that I used, to
-induce you to make a short journey to the South with me last summer;
-and your answer, “I can’t leave the paper.” You well recollect that I
-urged that we were not born to work alone; that life was short; that
-sixteen or sixty, its term was but a flash; that we were rushing on
-with increased velocity to that bourne, whose sands are marked, by
-no returning foot-print—that bourne where the sceptre and diadem of
-the monarch lie contemptuously hurled with the goad and chain of the
-slave—where, their service ended, the broken wain of the yeoman, and the
-grim cannon of the soldier, interlock their shattered wheels; the bayonet
-and pruning-hook—the sword and the ploughshare rest without a name. You
-well recollect that I reproached you, the rather, with too great love for
-the green fields and giant elms around your cottage at Elizabethtown;
-that I swore by my faith! and I believed in the doctrine of Pythagoras,
-that I should look to see thy immortal part, transferred on its exit,
-from its present habitation to one of those huge trees towering into the
-blue ether; that there, in the sunny mornings of summer, for sonnets
-which do enliven thy columns, I should hear the joyous call of the
-robin—the shrill whistle of the scarlet oriole; for sparkling wit,—the
-dew of night glittering on thy leaves in the early sunbeams; for wise
-old saws, and dreamy legends, venerable moss gathering upon thy trunk
-and branches, while, alike in the evening wind or howling blast, thou
-shouldest stand firm against casuistry or dictation. “Wilt go? Wilt join
-me?”—with soft persuasion murmured I. “The paper—the paper—the pa—per,”
-quoth thou. “Presto,” quoth _I_—and without more ado started in my usual
-heels-over-head fashion, alone on my journey.
-
-I swept over the broad breast of the Delaware-dashed down the enemy
-insulted Chesapeake—bounded through the city of riots and beauty, and
-came down on my feet at the cottage of my whole-souled friend, Tom B——,
-on the banks of the Potomac. The afternoon of my arrival was warm and
-still, and every thing in nature, even the birds, seemed wrapped in
-indolent repose. Slowly sauntering through the long vistas of sycamores
-and elms, which adorned the grounds in picturesque avenues, the airy East
-Indian cottage of my friend suddenly broke upon my sight, peering from
-a whole load of flowering vines and sweet briars, tall white lilies,
-and moss roses, from thick beds of myrtle at their feet, climbing into
-the half open lattices, while two towering pines almost crossed their
-extended branches above its lowly roof. I stole quietly through the
-open door, examining the choice Italian landscapes hanging upon the
-walls of the airy grass-matted hall,—slid through the drawing-rooms,
-stopping for a moment to scan the crouching Venus and dying Gladiator
-on their pedestals; to admire the exquisite Magdalen of Carlo Dolce—the
-lovely Claude, the Cenci, and Flora beneath their silken tassels,—and
-coming out upon the verandah overlooking the river, suspended in his
-grass hammock, found master Tom, enjoying his luxurious siesta. His
-double-barrelled gun and game-bag—his linen shooting jacket, huge
-sombrero, and hunting-boots, were tumbled promiscuously in one corner
-of the piazza,—while half a dozen fine plover, turning up their plump
-breasts, a partridge, and some score of yellow-legged snipe, with the
-powder-flask and shot-belt, were thrown across the back of the rustic
-settee, trophies of his morning’s sport, beneath which, with their noses
-extended between their legs in like luxurious repose, lay the huge old
-Newfoundlander, “Bernard,” and his favourite pointer, “Soho.”
-
-The mild breeze bore in the sweet perfume of the honey-suckle from a
-neighbouring arbour, and the broad Potomac, stretched tranquilly onwards,
-undisturbed save by the occasional jibe of the boom, or lazy creak of the
-rudder of some craft, reflected with her white sails upon its surface.
-The garden, with its white-gravelled walks, bordered with box, descended
-in parterres to the river’s edge—an embroidered carpet of flowers;
-and lemon and orange trees, released from their winter’s confinement,
-displayed their golden fruit, hanging amid the green leaves in tempting
-profusion. I bent over and looked into the hammock, and could not but
-admire the serenity of the manly features, the measured heave of the
-broad chest, and the masses of raven locks, playing around the white
-forehead of the sleeper, as they were slowly lifted by the play of the
-passing wind. I thought it were a sin to disturb him, so drawing out my
-cigar case, I stretched myself on the settee at his side, complacently
-reclining my head upon its arm. Whiles watching the blue smoke of my
-“Regalia,” as it slowly wreathed and floated above my head—whiles
-watching the still dreamy flow of the river—and whiles—if I must confess
-it—cogitating which had been the wisest, myself the bachelor, or Tom the
-married man,—Tom, myself, the dogs, forming a tolerably correct picture
-of _still_ life,—a still life that remained unbroken for some half hour,
-when through the glass door of the drawing-room a beautiful boy of three
-or four years came galloping into the piazza, and bounding towards
-the dogs, threw himself full length upon the shaggy Newfoundlander,
-manfully striving to pull open his huge jaws with his little hands. The
-Newfoundlander opening his eyes, saw me, and raising himself on his legs,
-gave a low growl; while the child, relinquishing his hold upon the ears
-to which he had clung, as the dog rose to his feet, came slowly up to
-me, and placing his plump little hands upon my knee, looked curiously
-and inquiringly into my face, his golden locks falling in a profusion
-of ringlets down his superb sunburnt shoulders. I was charmed with the
-confidence, and innocence, and sweetness beaming from his gaze, and
-took him upon my knee, his hand playing with my watch guard, while his
-beautiful blue eyes remained fixed in the same look of curious inquiry
-on mine. I said it was a picture of _still_ life. Tom, aroused by the
-dog, slowly lifted his head over the edge of the hammock, rubbed his
-eyes as if uncertain whether he were in a dream, as I calmly and silently
-returned his astonished gaze, and then, with a single swing, was at my
-side, both of my hands clasped in his. The next moment, I fancy the
-picture was other than _still_ life.
-
-Why should I tell you of the tea-table, loaded with delicacies in the
-matted hall, as the soft evening sun-set poured its last rays through
-it? of the symmetrical figure clad in snowy whiteness—the Grecian
-features, the dark Andalusian eyes, beaming with kindness from behind
-the glittering silver at its head? Why, that the youngster tied by the
-handkerchief in the high chair at his mother’s side, pertinaciously
-kicked his tiny red shoes about him in frolic glee, while my little
-knight of the golden locks, did the duty of the trencher at his father’s
-elbow? Why, that as the shades of evening faded into twilight, that the
-young gentry were snugly ensconced in their little bed, the mother’s
-soft cheek pressed against the forehead of the eldest as he lisped his
-evening prayer? and why, as soon “like twin roses on one stalk,” as they
-were wrapped in innocent slumber, we sat in the fading twilight, talking
-over old scenes and boyish recollections, retracing our steps back to
-those days which, softened by the lapse of time, appear divested of every
-thing save brightness and sunshine? why but to tell you that we were
-aroused from those retrospections, by the sound of the church-going bell,
-musically chiming in the distance.
-
-
-
-
-THE COUNTRY PASTOR.
-
-
-The slow tolling—now almost dying away, and now striking more strongly
-upon the ear—arose from the church in the neighbouring town, where my
-friends were in the habit of worshipping, and where they were to have the
-opportunity on that evening of hearing the voice of their time-honoured
-pastor—an opportunity which his great age and increasing infirmities had
-made equally rare and valuable. I gladly accepted the invitation to join
-them, as, aside from a desire to see the aged man, of whom I had so often
-heard, if there is a time for devotion more consonant to my feelings than
-another, it is when the quietness and serenity of a summer’s evening
-dispel all external impressions, and every thing appears in unison with
-harmony and benevolence.
-
-As we walked the short half mile between the cottage and the church,
-the stars shone in beauty amid the still rosy tints of the west—the
-night-hawk stooped towards us, as he wheeled in his airy circles—the
-whip-poor-will in the adjoining meadows sounded his mournful note,
-and the crickets, with the chirping frogs in the neighbouring ponds,
-sustained a ceaseless chorus. Arrived at the church-yard, we picked our
-way among the old brown tomb-stones, their quaint devices, contrasted
-here and there with others of more modern pretensions in white marble,
-and entering the church, took our seats in silence. We were early; but
-as the church gradually filled, it was interesting to watch group after
-group, as it noiselessly measured the aisles, and sunk quietly upon
-the cushioned seats. Now and then a pair of bright eyes would glance
-curiously around from beneath a gay bonnet, and a stray tress be thrown
-hastily aside; but alas! those clad in the habiliments of wo, too, too
-often moved, phantom-like, to their places; the lights, as they threw a
-momentary glare on their pale and care-worn faces, making more dark the
-badges which affection has assumed as a tame index of inward grief. The
-slow toll of the bell ceased—the silence became more deep;—an occasional
-cough—the rustling of a dress—the turn of a leaf alone breaking the
-perfect stillness.
-
-The low tones of the organ rose gently and sweetly, and the voluntary
-floated softly and mist-like over the assembly; now rising, and falling,
-and undulating, with like dreamy harmony, as if the Æolian harp were
-answering, with the passing airs playing among its strings, the ocean
-gently laving her pebbly shores; then gradually rising and increasing
-in depth, it grandly and solemnly ascended upwards, till thrown back,
-reverberated from the walls of the circular dome above us, it rolled away
-in deep and distant thunders. All became again silent. The venerable
-form of a man of four-score years, his hair bleached with the sorrows of
-eighty winters, rose slowly in the pulpit, and as, with eyes closed, yet
-lifted to Heaven, he feebly supported himself with outstretched arms upon
-its cushion, we heard almost in a whisper, “Let us pray, my brethren,”
-fall tremulously from his lips. Nought, but the perfect stillness,
-enabled us at first to hear the sentences pronounced with evident and
-painful effort; but as he advanced in prayer, that almost whisper, became
-firm and distinct, and his pallid cheek lighted up with a hectic flush,
-as he waxed eloquent in the presence of his Maker.
-
-His venerable features appeared to glow almost with inspiration, as he
-drew near the throne of the Holy One; and the hearts of the mourners beat
-more calmly, as they felt themselves carried into the presence of Him
-that suffered. More thoughtless than the swallow that skims the summer
-skies, must he have been, who could have heard that prayer, and not have
-joined with reverence in its solemnity. His closing words still ring upon
-my ear, and long will remain stamped upon my memory.
-
-“My children—your fathers, and your fathers’ fathers have listened to my
-voice. Generations have passed by me to their long account, and still
-I have been left, and still my voice hath arisen from this holy place.
-Wo! wo is me, if my Master hath looked upon me as a slack and unworthy
-servant to his people. My children—but a few short days, and this
-trembling voice that still strives to teach his blessed will, shall be
-hushed in that sleep which the Archangel’s trump alone shall break—this
-tottering form be laid beneath the mould from whence it came, there to
-remain till that trump shall demand its presence at the judgment seat.
-But with the last tones of this quivering voice, with the last grasp of
-these trembling hands, I extend to you the sacred volume, as your guide
-to happiness in this, your only light into the world to come.
-
-“The sneers of human reason and vain philosophy shall desert you
-assuredly, my children, as you stand upon the edge of that awful
-precipice, where each of you _alone_ must take the fated plunge into the
-deep darkness of the future—but this, this shall make clear your passage
-as brightest noon-day. My children—I look back upon you as I speak—my
-hand is on the door-latch—my foot upon the threshold—oh! when your short
-days like mine are numbered, may you with the same reliance in his mercy,
-say, Lo, blessed Master, we stand without—receive us into thy kingdom.”
-
-As the service ended, it was good to see the kind-hearted feeling, with
-which the congregation gathered around the venerable man—for he was pure,
-and sincere, and true; and of a verity, as he said, his voice had arisen
-among them above the infant’s wail, at the baptismal font—had joined
-them with cheerfulness at the marriage feast, and still been heard in
-solemn sympathy at the side of the dark and silent grave. It was the last
-time that he addressed them. Not many days, and another voice pronounced
-the burial service of the dead in that green church-yard, and the form of
-the good old man was covered from their sight beneath its sod.
-
-As we returned to our cottage home, the crescent moon was streaming
-in silvery brightness, the constellations and galaxy resplendent with
-“living fires,” and the far, far worlds rolling in immeasurable distance,
-as twinkling stars trembled upon our human vision. The dews of night were
-moist upon the grass, as we re-measured the lawn that led to the cottage;
-where, after planning our visit for the following morning to Mount
-Vernon, we soon were wrapped in contented and grateful repose.
-
-
-
-
-MOUNT VERNON.
-
-
-The sun raised himself in a huge globe of fire above the eastern horizon,
-as my friend’s spirited bays stood saddled at the door of the cottage,
-pawing, champing the bit, and playfully endeavouring to bite the black
-boy who held them. Finishing an early breakfast, we were soon in our
-saddles and full gallop on our journey; the dogs in an ecstacy of
-delight, bounding along at our sides, overhauling and putting in bodily
-terror every unfortunate cur that came in their way, as they sportively
-tumbled him over and over in curious examination; old Bernard, with
-glistening eyes and wagging tail, bestriding in grim fun the prostrate
-form of the enemy. We passed rapidly through the rough paved streets of
-Alexandria, watching eagerly for its famed beauties at their casements,
-and clearing the town, were soon on the rustic road that leads to the
-sacred place of America.
-
-The meadows were glistening in the morning dew; the sweet perfume of the
-clover filled the air; the white daisy and delicate cowslip danced over
-their luxuriant grassy beds, as the fresh morning breeze fanned them
-in its passage; and amid the sea of melody high above the merry gossip
-of the bob-link, the chattering volubility of the mocking-bird, his
-yellow spotted breast swelling with delight, his keen eye gazing into
-the distance, the saucy “_you-can’t-see-me_” of the meadow lark sounded
-in merry challenge, while the clear “whew-whew-it” of the quail from the
-golden wheat-field, was echoed by his eager companion far down in the
-green vales, as they stretched softly and gently into the distance, in
-the long shadows of the early morning. Oh! let him that would scan the
-benevolence of the Creator, leave his restless bed in the sweltering
-city, and walk forth with the day in its youth,—for verily, like man, it
-hath its youth, its manhood and its old age—and the sweetness of morning
-is the youth of the day.
-
-The hedges on the road side were covered with a tangled mass of verdure,
-from which wild vines and green ivy crept to the surrounding trees,
-wreathing gracefully their trunks and branches. The undergrowth was
-loaded with wild roses and honeysuckles. The graceful fleur-de-lis,
-curving its blue flowers, trembled upon the green banks, and the
-pond-lily floating on its watery bed, threw forth its grateful fragrance,
-as we occasionally passed through the swampy bottoms. Fat cattle grazed
-indolently in the meadows; while now and then, as we cantered by their
-pastures, the horses, with tails and manes erect, accompanied us on our
-journey, till arriving at their confines, with eager neighing, they
-would look after us, throw their heels high in the air, and gallop down
-into the broad fields in the very jollity of freedom. Every thing seemed
-contented and joyous. The hearty, happy-looking negroes, trudging along
-to their agricultural labours, doffed their hats to us, with a cheerful
-“good morning,” as we passed, or laughingly displayed their white teeth
-and big eyes, as they led the dew-wet horse to the bars to mount and
-drive to the milking the smooth, fat kine. A ride of an hour brought us
-to the woods that adjoin Mount Vernon, which are cleared of undergrowth,
-but in other respects as wild and untamed as if naught but the savage
-had ever placed foot in them. Silence reigned through the deep glades,
-unbroken, save by the hoofs of our horses as they resounded with hollow
-echo; the sharp chirp of the squirrel, jumping among the dry leaves;
-or the quick rap, rap, of the woodpecker, as his scarlet head and blue
-back glanced momentarily from some dead trunk upon our eyesight. We
-met with nothing to intercept our progress. Now and then, to be sure,
-a drove of hogs, feeding upon the mast in the forest, would marshal
-themselves in our path, stupidly staring at us with a sort of ludicrous,
-half-drunken gravity, snuffing the air, as if determined to intercept our
-progress; but as we came nearer, they would whirl short about, and with
-a simultaneous grunt, their tails twisted in the air, gallop off with
-desperate precipitation into the depths of the forest. Journeying a mile
-or two further, we came upon the porter’s lodges, at the entrance of
-the domain proper, which were old and ruinous. Proceeding still farther
-over a very bad and rough carriage-road, we came suddenly in view of the
-Potomac; and Mount Vernon, with its mansion-house and smooth, green lawn,
-lay extended before us; Fort Washington’s battlements and cannon-filled
-embrasures in stern silence guarding it from the opposite side of the
-river.
-
-Fastening our horses, under the guidance of a grey-headed old negro,
-born in the family of General Washington, we entered the lawn and came
-upon the rear-front, if the term may be allowed, of an old-fashioned
-mansion, surmounted by a cupola and weather-cock, semicircular piazzas
-extending around from each end, connecting it with the kitchen and
-servant’s apartments. Various buildings, all bearing the impress of time,
-were scattered about, evidently in architectural order and plan, and
-the two large gardens, rendered interesting by the flowers and plants,
-still blooming in the beds where they had been placed by the hands of
-the General, extended back to the forest from which we had just emerged.
-As we stood for a moment looking at the old building, we almost expected
-to see the yellow travelling-carriage of his Excellency, with its four
-beautiful bays, and liveried out-riders, draw up at the great hall door
-in its centre. Having sent in our address, we received permission from
-the courteous branch of the family, who now hold the estate, to enter
-and survey the interior. We were struck with its extreme simplicity,
-the lowness of the walls and ceilings, and the bare floors, which were
-waxed, not, as with us, carpeted. The sides of the rooms were composed
-exclusively of wooden panels, upon which hung some old oil paintings of
-merit,—engravings of naval actions between the English, the Dutch, and
-the French; and a small enamel miniature, which is considered the best
-likeness extant of Washington. Curiosities of various kinds covered the
-shelves and the mantels, and the painted porcelains and china jars, stood
-in stately display behind the glass doors of the old-fashioned beaufets
-in the corners.
-
-Our attention was arrested for a moment, as we passed through one of the
-rooms, by a large rusty key of iron, enclosed in a glass case. It was
-the key of the Bastile, that infernal prison, that monument of centuries
-of grinding cruelty and oppression, where men vanished, and were seen
-no more of their day and generation,—where, by the intrigues of the
-courtier, the subtle blandishments of the minion of the palace, letters
-de cachet plunged equally the innocent, the imprudent, and the generous,
-into the jaws of living death,—that accursed congerie of dungeons where,
-from mid fellowship of rats and spiders, such scrap of soiled paper,
-written in the blood of the poor prisoner, fluttering from a loop-hole in
-its lofty towers, arrests the footstep of the casual passenger upon the
-causeway.
-
-“Mases de Latude, _thirty-two_ years prisoner in the Bastile, implores
-good Christians to intercede for him, so that he may once more embrace
-his poor old father and mother, if they yet live, and die in the open
-world.”
-
-Surely, nothing but the hallowed air of Mount Vernon could have prevented
-the Prince of Darkness from bodily carrying off so precious a gem for
-his cabinet. One side of the great drawing-room was ornamented with a
-sculptured mantel in Italian marble, presented by Lafayette, the other
-was covered with cases containing books of high toned selection, while,
-from the third, its green silk curtain drawn aside, was suspended a
-portrait of the present family, by Chapman. The figures of the portrait,
-as large as life, presented a lady of middle age, clad in mourning,
-surrounded by a group of children advancing into youth. It was well
-executed, and in the dignified and saddened serenity, in the simple
-and natural grouping, and the pure and unaffected expression of the
-countenances, an American in any part of the world, would have at once
-recognised a family group of the more intellectual and refined of his own
-country. As we walked through the various rooms, from which the family
-had withdrawn, we were so overcome with the illusion, the work-basket
-with its scissors and thread—the half-opened book lying upon the table,
-the large Bible prominently, not ostentatiously, in its place, the
-portraits on the walls, the busts on their pedestals,—all causing such
-a vivid impression of present life and being, that we almost expected to
-see the towering form of the General entering the doorway, or passing
-over the green lawn spread between us and that Potomac which we had so
-often viewed from the same windows. We were at first disappointed at not
-seeing in some conspicuous place, the sword, which had so often been
-extended by the hand whose pulses quickened not in the hour of extremest
-peril, as it marshalled the road of human liberty; but our disappointment
-turned to admiration, and our hearts beat still higher, as we were
-referred to, and read this clause in his last testament:
-
-“To each of my four nephews, I bequeath one of the swords of which I
-may die possessed. These swords are accompanied with the injunction not
-to unsheath them for the purpose of shedding blood, except it be for
-self-defence, or in defence of their country and its rights; and in the
-latter case, to keep them unsheathed, and prefer falling with them in
-their hands to the relinquishment thereof.”
-
-Passing through the great hall, ornamented with pictures of English
-hunting scenes, we ascended the oaken stair-case, with its carved and
-antique balustrade;—we stood at the door—we pressed the handle—the
-room and the bed where he died were before us. Nothing in the lofty
-drama of his existence, surpassed the grandeur of that final scene;—the
-cold which he had taken from exposure, in overseeing some part of his
-grounds, and which resisted the earlier domestic remedies that were
-applied, advanced in the course of two short days into that frightful
-form of the disease of the throat, laryngitis.—It became necessary for
-him to take to his bed. His valued friend, Dr. Craik, was instantly
-summoned, and assisted by the best medical skill of the surrounding
-country, exhausted all the means of his art, but without affording
-him relief. He patiently submitted, though in great distress, to the
-various remedies proposed, but it became evident from the deep gloom
-settling upon the countenances of the medical gentlemen, that the case
-was hopeless;—advancing insidiously, the disease had fastened itself
-with deadly certainty. Looking with perfect calmness upon the sobbing
-group around him, he said—“Grieve not my friends; it is as I anticipated
-from the first;—the debt which we all owe, is now about to be paid—I am
-resigned to the event.” Requesting Mrs. Washington to bring him two wills
-from his escritoire, he directed one to be burnt, and placed the other in
-her hands, as his last testament, and then gave some final instructions
-to Mr. Lear, his secretary and relation, as to the adjustment his
-business affairs. He soon after became greatly distressed, and as, in
-the paroxysms which became more frequent and violent, Mr. Lear, who was
-extended on the bed by his side, assisted him to turn, he, with kindness,
-but with difficulty, articulated, “I fear I give you great trouble,
-sir,—but—perhaps it is a duty that we all owe one to another—I trust that
-you may receive the same attention, when you shall require it.”
-
-As the night waned, the fatal symptoms became more imminent—his breath
-more laboured and suffocating, and his voice soon after failed him.
-Perceiving his end approaching, he straightened himself to his full
-length, he folded his own hands in the necessary attitude upon his
-chest—placing his finger upon the pulse of the left wrist, and thus
-calmly prepared, and watching his own dissolution, he awaited the summons
-of his Maker. The last faint hopes of his friends had disappeared;—Mrs.
-Washington, stupified with grief, sat at the foot of the bed, her eyes
-fixed steadfastly upon him; Dr. Craik, in deep gloom, stood with his face
-buried in his hands at the fire,—his faithful black servant, Christopher,
-the tears uncontrolled trickling down his face, on one side, took the
-last look of his dying master; while Mr. Lear, in speechless grief, with
-folded hands, bent over his pillow on the other.
-
-Nought broke the stillness of his last moments, but the suppressed sobs
-of the affectionate servants collected on the stair-case; the tick of the
-large clock in the hall, as it measured off, with painful distinctness,
-the last fleeting moments of his existence, and the low moan of the
-winter wind, as it swept through the leafless snow-covered trees; the
-labouring and wearied spirit drew nearer and nearer to its goal; the
-blood languidly coursed slower and more slowly through its channels—the
-noble heart stopped—struggled—stopt—fluttered—the right hand slowly slid
-from the wrist, upon which its finger had been placed—it fell at the
-side—and the manly effigy of Washington was all that remained, extended
-upon the death couch.
-
-We left that room, as those who leave a sick room: a suppressed whisper
-alone escaped us, as, with a sort of instinctive silence and awe, we drew
-the door slowly and firmly to its place behind us. We again descended the
-antique stair-case, and emerged upon the lawn, in front of the mansion.
-Passing through several coppices of trees, we approached the sepulchre,
-where rest the remains of his earthly semblance. In the open arch of a
-vault composed of brick, secured and firmly protected by gates of open
-iron work, were two large sarcophagi of white marble, in one of which,
-carved in high relief, with the arms of the republic, were deposited the
-remains of him, “who was first in war, first in peace, and first in the
-hearts of his countrymen.” A marble slab, set into the brick wall of the
-exterior, bearing in black letters simply this inscription—
-
-                             “The remains of
-                        Gen’l George Washington.”
-
-There rested all that was mortal of the man, whose justice—whose
-virtue—whose patriotism—meet with no parallel in human history. There,
-within the smoke of his own hearth-stone, mouldered the remains of
-that towering form, whose spirit, whether in the battle, or in the
-council-hall, in the fierce dissensions of public discord, or in the
-quiet relations of social life, shone with the same stern and spotless
-purity.
-
-The Potomac glittered like silver, between the trees in the noon-day sun
-at our feet; the soft mild breeze gently moved the leaves upon the tree
-tops—the chirp of the wren—the drowsy hum of the locust—the quick note of
-the thrush, as she hopped from twig to twig, were all that showed signs
-of life,—and those huge sarcophagi lay still—motionless—far, far from
-voiceless. Oh! my countrymen, never since he left us, hath it so behoved
-us to listen,—“While our Father’s grave doth utter forth a voice.”
-
-We were exceedingly struck and affected by the truthfulness of the “Sweet
-Swan of Avon,” as we saw above the sarcophagi, (free passage to which
-was open over the large iron gates,) the clayey nest of the martin, or
-common house-swallow, built in the corner of the ceiling, where, in
-perfect security and confidence she fed her chirping brood, directly over
-the head of the departed hero. Pure, indeed, was the air, “nimbly and
-sweetly” did it play upon our senses. Oh! bard of England, as standing
-upon that hallowed spot, the spirit of the unfortunate Banquo whispered
-again to our memories, his words to the murdered Duncan.
-
-    “This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
-    Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
-    Unto our gentle senses.”
-
-    _Banquo._——“This guest of summer,
-    The temple haunting martlet, does approve,
-    By his lov’d mansionry, that the heavens’ breath,
-    Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, buttress,
-    Nor coigne of vantage, but this bird hath made
-    His pendent bed, and procreant cradle: Where they
-    Most breed and haunt, I have observed, the air
-    Is delicate.”
-
-We lingered long at the tomb, and with reluctance withdrew, as the
-advancing day warned us of our homeward returning ride.
-
-The setting sun, streaming in radiance through the trees, measured in
-long shadows the persons of the two men dismounting at the cottage
-door, from whence they had departed so buoyant and joyous in its
-morning brightness. That setting sun, sinking beneath its gorgeous bed
-of crimson, gold and purple, left those men more chastened, true, more
-elevated, from their pilgrimage to the shrine of him whose name shall
-forever be the watchword of human Liberty.
-
-
-
-
-THE MEDICAL STUDENT.
-
-
-I remained several weeks on my friend Tom’s plantation, enjoying
-the course of life that he pursued, which was entirely consonant to
-my tastes. His plantation consisted of about three hundred acres,
-principally laid down in wheat, indian corn and tobacco, though some
-of it still remained in meadow and woodland;—this, with a handsome
-productive property in the neighbouring towns of Alexandria and
-Washington, afforded him an abundant income to indulge his liberal,
-though not extravagant tastes. He usually arose at five in the morning,
-mounted his horse, and rode over the plantation, overseeing and giving
-instructions to the labourers; and returning, was met by his smiling
-wife and beautiful children at the breakfast table; after which, he
-again applied himself to business until eleven, when he threw all care
-aside, and devoted himself to pleasure or study, for the remainder of
-the day. He thus avoided the two extremes to which country gentlemen are
-liable,—over work on the one hand, or ennui on the other. His library—the
-windows commanding a view of twenty miles down the Potomac—was crowded
-with a varied store of general literature; among which, I observed
-shining conspicuously, the emblazoned backs of Shakspeare, and the
-worthy old Knight of La Mancha. History, Travels, the Classics—English,
-French, Spanish, and Italian—and works on Natural History and general
-science, were marshalled on their respective shelves. There was also,
-a small, but very select Medical Library, for my friend had taken his
-degree in that profession, and although relieved from the necessity of
-practising for support, he was in the habit of attending gratuitously on
-the poor in the neighbouring country.—Marble busts of Shakspeare, Milton
-and Columbus, stood on pedestals in the corners of the room, and fine
-old portraits of Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Dante, and Ben Jonson, besides
-an exquisite gem of Ruysdaels hanging over the fire-place, adorned the
-walls. On one side of the room, fronting the entrance, an effigy in
-complete polished armour of the fifteenth century, stood erect and grim,
-the mailed gauntlet grasping the upright spear; while, on a withered
-branch above it, was perched with extended wings, a superb American
-Eagle, in full preservation, his keen eye appearing to flash upon the
-intruders at the entrance. In the centre, on the soft thick carpet, which
-returned no sound of footsteps, was a circular table surmounted with
-an Argand lamp and writing apparatus; on one side of which, was one of
-the exquisitely comfortable lounging chairs, that admit of almost every
-position of ease, and on the other, a crimson fauteuil stuffed with
-down, which Tom laughingly said, was for the peculiar benefit of his
-wife, when she saw fit to honour his sanctum sanctorum with her presence.
-He tasked his invention to the utmost to make my time agreeable;—horses,
-dogs, guns, books, every thing was at my disposal. Among other
-excursions, he proposed, a few days after my arrival, that we should take
-a run down the Potomac in his boat. Now this boat was none other than
-a beautiful clipper-built schooner-rigged yacht, of about twenty tons
-burden, with a very ample cabin in her centre, and from the gilt eagle on
-her stern, and the gaudy pennant streaming at her masthead, to the taught
-stay running out to the end of her mimic jib-boom, the most complete
-thing of the kind that I ever laid eyes on. In so expressing myself when
-I first saw her, I received an approbatory and very gracious nod from
-“Old Kennedy,” a regular old salt, with one arm, for whom Tom had built a
-cottage on his estate, and to whom she was beauty personified;—a beauty
-which he could the more readily appreciate, from the fact, that the far
-greater part of his time was devoted to her decoration. “Many a time,”
-says Tom, “have I found him lying by himself on the banks, looking at her
-in admiration with half-open eyes; and I much doubt whether my Mary looks
-more beautiful to me, than does her namesake, as she floats yonder, to
-old Kennedy.”
-
-But to come to our story. We appointed the following day for our
-excursion, and, having first ascertained that Walter Lee, an old friend,
-whose plantation was a couple of miles below would join us, we early the
-next morning got up our anchor, and under the influence of a smacking
-breeze, were soon cutting our way down the river, the white canvass
-stretching clean and taught out to the stays; our long pennant streaming
-proudly behind us, and our little jack shaking most saucily from its
-slender staff at the bowsprit, as we merrily curveted and jumped over
-the waves. Running down to a point on Lee’s plantation, we got him on
-board, and were soon under way again, the water bubbling and gurgling
-into our scuppers, as we lay down to it in the stiff breeze. Occasionally
-she would sweep, gunwale under, when a flaw would strike her; but old
-Kennedy, wide awake, would bring her up with a long curving sweep,
-as gracefully as a young lady sliding out of the waltz in a crowded
-ball-room, till, stretching out again, she would course along, dancing
-over the mimic waves, with a coquetry equal to those same fair damsels,
-when they find an unfortunate wight secure in their chains. We were all
-in fine spirits; Tom’s negro boy, seated at the heel of the foremast,
-showing his white teeth, in a delighted grin, as old Kennedy, with his
-grave face, played off nautical wit at his peculiar expense. We saw a
-number of ducks, but they were so shy that we could with difficulty get
-a shot at them; but we now and then succeeded in picking half a dozen
-snipe out of a flock, as it rose from the shore, and flew across our
-bows. We continued running down the river in this way, for three or
-four hours, passing now and then a fisherman, or other craft, slowly
-beating up; but towards noon the breeze slackened,—we gradually lost
-our way—merely undulating, as the wind fanned by us in light airs, till
-finally it entirely subsided; our long pennant hanging supinely on the
-shrouds, and the water slopping pettishly against our bows, as we rested
-tranquilly upon its surface. The after part of the yacht was covered with
-an awning, which, although sufficiently high to prevent its obstructing
-the view of the helmsman, afforded us a cover from the rays of the sun,
-so that we lay contentedly, reclining upon the cushions, smoking our
-cigars, enjoying our refreshments, and reviving old recollections and
-associations, for it must be confessed that we three, in our student
-days, had “rung the chimes at midnight.” I had not seen Lee for several
-years;—he was a descendant of the celebrated partizan officer, who
-commanded the dashing corps in the Revolution known as Lee’s Legion, and
-inherited, in a marked degree, all the lofty courtesy and real chivalry
-that characterized that officer. He was exceedingly well read in the
-military history of the country, and indeed so thoroughly imbued with
-military spirit, that should the signal of war ring through the country,
-I know of no man whose hand would so soon be on the sword hilt and
-foot in the stirrup. My introduction to his acquaintance was marked by
-an incident so peculiarly painful and exciting in its character, that I
-cannot refrain from relating it. Having been let loose from the care of
-my guardians at a very early age, I made the first use of my liberty in
-travelling in a good-for-nothing sort of way over Europe, determined to
-see for myself, the grandeur of Old England; to climb the Alps; to hear
-the romantic legends of Germany, in her own dark forests; to study the
-painters and sculptors of Italy, on her classic soil; to say nothing of
-visions of dark-eyed girls of Seville, of sylphs and fairies, floating
-through the ballets and operas of Paris, and midnight adventures in
-the gondolas of Venice. Arriving at London, I fell in with, and gladly
-availed myself of the opportunity to take apartments in the same house
-with my friend Tom and his fellow-student Lee, both Americans, and both
-completing a course of medical education by attending the lectures of the
-celebrated John Hunter.
-
-It so happened, that on the very first evening that we came together, in
-conversation upon the peculiar features of their profession, I expressed
-a desire to visit a dissecting-room, never having been in one in my own
-country. Lee immediately invited me to accompany them to the lecture on
-that evening, which was to be delivered in the rotunda of the College,
-and where, by going at an early hour, my curiosity could be satisfied,
-besides the opportunity that I should have of hearing that eminent
-surgeon. So pulling on our hats and taking our umbrellas in our hands, we
-plunged into the dense fog, and groped our way over the greasy pavements
-to the college. It was a large building, in a dark and retired court,
-with something in its very exterior sepulchral and gloomy. Entering the
-hall door, we ascended one pair of stairs, stopping for a moment as we
-passed the second story, to look into the large rotunda of the lecture
-room. The vacant chair of the professor was standing near the wall in
-the rear of a circular table of such peculiar construction, as to admit
-of elevation and depression in every part. This table was the one upon
-which the subjects were laid when under the hands of the demonstrator.
-Two skeletons, suspended by wires from the ceiling, hung directly over
-it; the room was as yet unoccupied and silent. Ascending another flight
-of stairs, we came to a third, secured at its entrance by a strong
-oaken door;-this appeared to put a stop to our further ascent, but upon
-a small bell being pulled, a sort of wicket in the upper part of the
-door was cautiously drawn aside, discovering the features of a stern,
-solemn-looking man, who, apparently satisfied of the right of the parties
-to enter, drew one or two heavy bolts, and dropping a chain admitted us.
-A small table was placed at the foot of the stairs, at which, by the
-light of a lamp, this gloomy porter was perusing a book of devotion.
-Ascending the stairs, it was not until three several attempts, that I
-was enabled to surmount the effects of the effluvia sufficiently to enter
-the green baize door that opened into the dissecting-room. As it swung
-noiselessly to behind me, the first sensation produced by the sight, was
-that of faintness; but it almost immediately subsided. There appeared a
-sort of profanity in speaking aloud, and I found myself unconsciously
-asking questions of my friends in a low whisper.
-
-On small narrow tables, in different parts of the large room, which,
-though lighted by a dome in the centre, required, in the deep darkness
-of a London fog, the additional aid of lamps, were extended some five
-and twenty human corpses in different stages of dissection. Groups of
-students were silently engaged with their scalpels in examining these
-wonderful temples of the still more wonderful human soul. Here a solitary
-individual, with his book open before him upon the corpse, followed the
-text upon the human subject, while there, two or three together were
-tracing with patient distinctness the course of the disease which had
-driven the spirit of life from its frail habitation. I observed one
-of the professors in his gold spectacles pointing out to a number of
-the students, gathered around one of the subjects, the evidences of an
-ossification of the great aorta, which had, after years of torture,
-necessarily terminated the life of the sufferer.—There was almost as
-much individuality in those corpses as if they had been living, and it
-required the most determined effort on my part to divest myself of the
-idea that they were sentient, and aware of all that was passing around
-them. I recollect, particularly, one, which was lying nearest the door
-as I entered;—it was the body of a man of about forty, with light hair,
-and fair complexion, who had been cut down in the midst of health.
-His face was as full, and his skin as white, as if he had been merely
-sleeping; but the knife had passed around his throat, down his body, and
-then in sections cross-ways; the internal muscles having been evidently
-exposed, and the skin temporarily replaced, during the casual absence of
-the dissector. There was something peculiarly horrid in the appearance
-of that corpse, as, aside from a ruffianly and dissolute expression of
-the features, the gash around his throat conveyed the impression that it
-was a murdered man lying before me. A good-looking, middle-aged female
-was extended just beyond, her long hair hanging down over the end of the
-table, but not as yet touched by the hand of the surgeon; while, just
-beyond her, the body of an old man, from which the upper part of the
-skull had been sawn to take out the brain, appeared to be grinning at us
-with a horrid sort of mirth. In another part of the room, directly over
-which the blackening body of an infant was thrown across a beam, like a
-piece of an old carpet, was extended the body of a gigantic negro; he
-lay upon his back, his legs somewhat apart, one of his arms thrown up
-so as to rest upon the top of his head, his eyes wide open, his nostrils
-distended, and his teeth clenched in a hideous grin. There was such
-evidence of strength, such giant development of muscle, such appearance
-of chained energy and ferocity about him, that, upon my soul, it seemed
-to me every moment as if he was about to spring up with a frantic yell,
-and throw himself upon us; and wherever I went about the room, my eyes
-still involuntarily turned, expecting to see that fierce negro drawing
-up his legs ready to bound, like a malignant demon, over the intervening
-space. He had been brought home for murder upon the high seas, but the
-jail-fever had anticipated the hand of the executioner, and his body of
-course was given over to the surgeons. A far different object lay on the
-floor near him; it was the body of a young girl of about eleven or twelve
-years old. The poor little creature had evidently died of neglect, and
-her body drawn up by the action of the flexor muscles into the form of a
-bow, stiffened in death, rocked forward and backward when touched by the
-foot; the sunken blue eyes staring sorrowfully and reproachfully upon us
-from the emaciated features. Beyond her, in most savage contrast, was
-thrown the carcass of a Bengal tiger, which had died a day or two before
-in the royal menagerie, his talons extending an inch beyond his paws, and
-there was about his huge distended jaws and sickly eyes, as perfect a
-portraiture of disease, and pain, and agony, as it has ever been my lot
-to witness in suffering humanity. There was no levity about the students,
-but, on the contrary, a sort of solemnity in their examinations; and
-when they spoke, it was in a low tone, as if they were apprehensive of
-disturbing the dead around them. I thought at the time that it would be
-well if some of those who sneer at the profession, could look in upon one
-of these even minor ordeals to which its followers are subjected in their
-efforts to alleviate the sufferings of their fellow-men.
-
-As the hour for the lecture approached, the students one by one, closed
-their books, washed their hands, and descended to the lecture-room.
-We descended with the rest, and as we passed the grim porter, at the
-bottom of the stair-case, I observed in the corner behind him a number
-of stout bludgeons, besides several cutlasses and muskets. A popular
-commotion a short time previous, among some of the well-intentioned but
-ignorant of the lower classes, had induced the necessity of caution,
-and this preparation for resistance. Entering the lecture-room, we took
-our places on the third or fourth row of seats from the demonstrator’s
-table, upon which a subject was lying, covered with a white sheet, and
-had time, as the room gradually filled, to look about us. Besides the
-students, Lee pointed out to me several able professional gentlemen,
-advanced in life, who were attracted by the celebrity of the lecturer;
-among others, Abernethy and Sir Astley Cooper. Shortly after we had taken
-our seats, a slender, melancholy-looking young man, dressed in deep
-mourning, entered the circle in which we were seated, and took his place
-on the vacant bench at my side. He bowed reservedly to my companions as
-he passed them, but immediately on sitting down became absorbed in deep
-sadness. My friends returned his salute, but did not appear inclined
-to break into his abstraction. At the precise moment that the lecture
-was announced to be delivered, the tall form of the eminent surgeon was
-seen descending the alley of crowded seats to his chair. The lights in
-the various parts of the room were raised suddenly, throwing a glare on
-all around; and one of the skeletons, to which an accidental jar had
-been given, vibrated slowly forward and backward, while the other hung
-perfectly motionless from its cord. In his short and sententious manner,
-he opened the subject of the lecture, which was the cause, effect, and
-treatment of that scourge of our country—consumption. His remarks were
-singularly lucid and clear, even to me, a layman. After having gone
-rapidly through the pathology of the disease, consuming perhaps some
-twenty minutes of time, he said,—“We will now, gentlemen, proceed to
-demonstration upon the subject itself.” I shall not readily forget the
-scene that followed. As he slowly turned up the wristbands of his shirt
-sleeves, and bent over to select an instrument from the case at his
-side, he motioned to an assistant to withdraw the sheet that covered the
-corpse. Resuming his erect position, the long knife glittering in his
-hand, the sheet was slowly drawn off, exhibiting the emaciated features
-of an aged woman, her white hair parted smoothly in the middle of her
-forehead, passing around to the back of the head, beneath the plain white
-muslin cap. The silence which always arrests even the most frivolous in
-the presence of the dead, momentarily checked the busy hum of whispers
-around me, when I heard a gasp—a choking—a rattling in the throat, at
-my side; and the next instant, the young man sitting next to me, rose
-to his feet, threw his arms wildly upwards, and shrieking in a tone of
-agony, that caused every man’s heart in that assembly, momentarily to
-stop—“_My m-o-t-h-e-r!_”—plunged prostrate and stiff, head foremost upon
-those in front of him. All was instant consternation and confusion;—there
-was one present who knew him, but to the majority of the students, he
-was as much a stranger as he was to my friends. He was from one of the
-adjoining parishes of London, and two weeks before, had lost his mother,
-to whom he was much attached, and by fatal mischance, that mother lay
-extended before him, upon the demonstrator’s table. He was immediately
-raised, but entirely stiff and insensible, and carried into an adjoining
-room;—sufficient animation was at length restored to enable him to
-stand, but he stared vacantly about him, the great beads of sweat
-trickling down his forehead, without a particle of mind or memory. The
-lecture was of course closed, and the lifeless corse again entrusted to
-hands to replace it in its tomb. The young man, on the following day, was
-brought sufficiently to himself to have memory present the scene again to
-his mind, and fell almost immediately into a raging fever, accompanied
-with fierce and violent delirium; his fever gradually abated, and his
-delirium at intervals; but when I left London for the continent, three
-months after, he was rapidly sinking under the disease which carried off
-his mother—happily in a state of helpless and senseless idiocy; and in
-a very short time after, death relieved him from his misery. The whole
-scene was so thrilling and painful, that, connecting it in some measure
-with my introduction to Lee, his presence always recalled it to my
-memory.
-
-
-
-
-THE RESURRECTIONISTS.
-
-
-As we returned to our lodgings, our conversation naturally turned upon
-the agitating event that we had just witnessed, and the extreme caution
-necessary in the procuring of subjects for anatomical examination. Lee
-related an occurrence that had happened to Dr. ——, a gentleman of high
-standing in South Carolina.
-
-Shortly after the American revolution, he visited Europe for the purpose
-of pursuing his medical studies, and was received into the family of
-the same distinguished gentleman, whom we had just heard lecture,
-then beginning to rise to eminence and notice; an advantage which was
-necessarily confined to a very few. In one of the dark and stormy nights
-of December, Mr. Hunter and his wife having been called to the bedside
-of a dying relative in the country, as Dr. —— was quietly sitting at the
-parlour fire, absorbed in his studies, he was aroused by a hurried ring
-at the street door, and rising, went to answer it himself. Upon opening
-the door, a hackney coach, with its half-drowned horses, presented itself
-at the side of the walk, and two men, in slouched hats and heavy sailor
-coals dripping with water, standing upon the steps, inquired in a low
-tone if he wanted a subject. Being answered in the affirmative, they
-opened the carriage door, lifted out the body, which was enveloped in a
-sack, and having carried it up stairs to the dissecting-room, which was
-in the garret, received the two guineas which they had demanded, and
-withdrew. The affair was not unusual, and Dr. —— resuming his book, soon
-forgot the transaction. About eleven o’clock, while still absorbed in
-his studies, he heard a violent female shriek in the entry, and the next
-instant the servant maid, dashing open the door, fell senseless upon the
-carpet at his feet, the candlestick which she held, rolling some distance
-as it fell.
-
-Perceiving that the cause of alarm, whatever it might be, was without,
-he caught up the candlestick, and, jumping over her prostrate form,
-rushed into the hall where an object met his view which might well
-have tried the nerves of the strongest man. Standing half-way down the
-stair-case, was a fierce, grim-looking man, perfectly naked, his eyes
-glaring wildly and fearfully from beneath a coarse shock of dark hair,
-which, nearly concealing a narrow forehead, partially impeded a small
-stream of blood trickling down the side of the face, from a deep scratch
-in the temple. In one hand he grasped a sharp long belt-knife, such as
-is used by riggers and sailors, the other holding on by the bannister,
-as he somewhat bent over to meet the gaze of the Doctor rushing into the
-entry. The truth flashed across the mind of Dr. —— in an instant, and
-with admirable presence of mind, he made one spring, catching the man
-by the wrist which held the knife, in a way that effectually prevented
-his using it. “In the name of God! where am I?” demanded the man in a
-horror-stricken voice, “am I to be murdered?” “Silence!—not a whisper,”
-sternly answered Dr. ——, looking him steadily in the eyes—“Silence—and
-your life is safe.”—Wrenching the knife from his hand, he pulled him by
-the arm passively along into the yard, and hurrying through the gate,
-first ran with him through one alley, then into another, and finally
-rapidly through a third, till coming to an outlet upon one of the narrow
-and unfrequented streets, he gave him a violent push,—retracing his steps
-again on the wings of the wind, pulling too, and doubly locking the gate
-behind him, leaving the object of his alarm perfectly bewildered and
-perplexed, and entirely ignorant of the place from whence he had been so
-summarily ejected. The precaution and presence of mind of Dr. ——, most
-probably saved the house of Mr. Hunter from being torn down and sacked
-by the mob, which would have been instantly collected around it, had the
-aggrieved party known where to have led them to wreak his vengeance.
-
-After a few days, inquiry was carefully and cautiously made through the
-police, and it was ascertained that three men answering the description
-of the resurrectionists and their victim had been drinking deeply
-through the afternoon, in one of the low dens in the neighbourhood of
-Wapping; that one had sunk into a stupid state of intoxication, and had,
-in that situation, been stripped and placed in a sack by his companions,
-a knife having been previously placed in his hand that he might relieve
-himself from his confinement upon his return to sensibility; and that in
-addition to the poor wretch’s clothes, they had realized the two guineas
-for his body.
-
-It is certainly painful, that the requirements of suffering humanity
-should make the occasional violation of the grave indispensably
-necessary. Whether the spirit, released from its confinement, lies in the
-limbo of the fathers, the purgatory of the Catholics, awaiting the great
-day of doom; whether called from a life of virtue, all time and distance
-annihilated, it sweeps free and unconstrained in heavenly delight through
-the myriads and myriads of worlds, rolling in the vast sublimity of
-space; whether summoned from a course of evil, it shudders in regions of
-darkness and desolation, or writhes in agony amid flaming atmospheres;
-or whether its germ of life remains torpid, as in the wheat taken from
-the Egyptian pyramids, thousands of years existent, but apparently not
-sentient, must, of course, be to us but the wild theories of imagination,
-and so remain until that judgment, predicted by the holy Revelation,
-shall sweep away the darkness with which, in inscrutable and awful
-wisdom, the Almighty has enveloped us.
-
-But that the spirit can look with other than indifference, if not
-loathing, on the perishing exuviæ of its chrysalis existence, which, to
-its retrospective gaze, presents little other than a tasking house of
-base necessities, a chained prison of cruel disappointments, even to our
-human reason, clogged as it is with bars and contradictions, appears
-hardly to admit the opportunity of question, and of consequence to that
-spirit its disposition can but be a matter of indifference. Still, to
-the surviving friends, whose affection cannot separate mind from matter,
-those forms lying in the still and silent tomb, retain all their dear
-associations, and surely it most gravely becomes the members of that
-profession, which, next to the altar, stands foremost in benevolence,
-that the deepest prudence should be exercised in this gloomy rite
-required by the living from the dead.
-
-
-
-
-OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER.
-
-
-(Constitution and Guerriere.)
-
-No. I.
-
-The sun became more and more powerful as it ascended towards the
-meridian, and was reflected with effulgent intensity from the
-mirror-surface of the river. As we bent over the side and looked far down
-into the deep vault reflected from above, and saw our gallant little
-yacht, with her white sails and dark hull, suspended with even minute
-tracery over it, we could almost imagine ourselves with the Ancient
-Mariner, “in a painted ship upon a painted ocean.”—The white sandbanks
-quivered and palpitated in the sultry glare, and the atmosphere of the
-adjoining swamps hung over them in a light blue vapour; the deadly
-miasma, their usual covering, dissipated in the fervent heat; while
-the silence was unbroken, save by the occasional scream of the gull,
-as it wheeled about in pursuit of its prey, or the quick alarmed cry
-of the kingfisher, hastily leaving some dead branch upon the shore to
-wing its way farther from the object of its terror. The black boy, in
-perfect negro elysium, lay stretched fast asleep, with his arm resting
-upon one of the dogs, in the blazing sun on the forecastle, while we
-ourselves, reclined upon the cushions, with our refreshments before us,
-indolently puffed our cigars under the awning, Old Kennedy, perched upon
-the taffrail, coxswain fashion, with the tiller between his legs. While
-thus enjoying ourselves, like true disciples of Epicurus, the guitar was
-taken from its case in the cabin, and accompanied by the rich tones of
-Walter Lee: “Here’s a health to thee, Mary,” in compliment to our kind
-hostess, swept over the still surface of the river, till, dissipated in
-the distance, and anon the “Wild Huntsman,” and “Here’s a health to all
-good lassies,” shouted at the pitch of three deep bass voices, bounded
-over the banks, penetrating the deep forest, causing the wild game to
-spring from their coverts in consternation at such unusual disturbance
-of its noontide stillness. “We bade dull care be gone, and daft the
-time away.” Old Kennedy, seated at the tiller, his grey hair smoothed
-down on one side, and almost falling into his eyes, his cheek distended
-with a huge quid of tobacco, which gave an habitual drag to a mouth
-whose expression indicated surly honesty and resolution, was a perfect
-portrait of many an old quartermaster, still in the service; while
-his scrupulously clean shirt, with its blue collar open at the neck,
-discovering a rugged throat, encircled by a ring of grey hairs, and his
-white canvass trowsers, as tight at the hips as they were egregiously
-large at the ancles, indicated the rig in which he had turned up, for the
-last thirty years, to Sunday muster. The old seaman had seen a great deal
-of service, having entered the navy at the opening of the difficulties
-with the Barbary powers, and had been engaged in several of the signal
-naval actions which followed in the subsequent war with Great Britain.
-Previous to that time, he had been in the employ of Tom’s father, who was
-an extensive shipping merchant at Alexandria, and now, in his old age,
-influenced by an attachment for the son, who had built a snug cottage for
-him on his estate, and, vested with the full control of the yacht, he had
-been induced to come down to spend the remainder of his days on the banks
-of the Potomac, enjoying the pension awarded by government for the loss
-of his arm.
-
-I had previously had the hint given me, that a little adroit management
-would set him to spinning a yarn which would suit my fancy. So, watching
-a good opportunity, knowing that the old man had been with Hull in his
-fight with the Guerriere, I successfully gave a kick to the ball by
-remarking, “You felt rather uncomfortable, Kennedy, did you not, as
-you were bearing down on the Guerriere, taking broadside and broadside
-from her, without returning a shot. You had time to think of your sins,
-my good fellow, as conscience had you at the gangway?” “Well, sir,”
-replied he, deliberately rolling his tobacco from one side of his mouth
-to the other, squirting the juice through his front teeth with true
-nautical grace—“Well, sir, that ere was the first frigate action as ever
-I was engaged in, and I am free to confess, I overhauled the log of my
-conscience to see how it stood, so it mought be I was called to muster
-in the other world in a hurry; but I don’t think any of his shipmates
-will say that Old Bill Kennedy did his duty any the worse that day,
-because he thought of his God, as he has many a time since at quarters.
-There’s them as says the chaplain is paid for the religion of the ship,
-and it’s none of the sailor’s business; but I never seen no harm in
-an honest seaman’s thinking for himself. Howsomever, I don’t know the
-man who can stand by his gun at such time, tackle cast loose, decks
-sanded, matches lighted, arm-chests thrown open, yards slung, marines
-in the gangways, powder-boys passing ammunition buckets, ship as still
-as death, officers in their iron-bound boarding caps, cutlashes hanging
-by lanyards at their wrists, standing like statues at divisions, enemy
-may-be bearing down on the weather-quarter—I say, I doesn’t know the man
-at sich time, as won’t take a fresh bite of his quid, and give a hitch to
-the waistbands of his trowsers, as he takes a squint at the enemy through
-the port as he bears down. And as you say at that particular time, the
-Guerriere (as is French for soger) was wearing and manœuvering, and
-throwing her old iron into us, broadside and broadside, like as I have
-seen them Italians in Naples throw sugar-plums at each other in Carnival
-time.—Afore she was through, tho’, she found it was no sugar-plum work,
-so far as Old Ironsides was consarned. You obsarve, when we first made
-her out, we seen she was a large ship close hauled on the starboard
-tack; so we gave chase, and when within three miles of her, took in all
-our light sails, hauled courses up, beat to quarters and got ready for
-action. She wore and manœuvered for some time, endeavouring to rake, but
-not making it out, bore up under her jib, and topsails, and gallantly
-waited for us. Well, sir—as we walked down to her, there stands the old
-man, (Hull) his swabs on his shoulders, dressed as fine in his yellow
-nankin vest and breeches, as if he was going ashore on leave—there he
-stands, one leg inside the hammock nettings, taking snuff out of his
-vest pocket, watching her manœuvres, as she blazed away like a house
-a-fire, just as cool as if he was only receiving complimentary salutes.
-She burnt her brimstone, and was noisy—but never a gun fires we. Old
-Ironsides poked her nose steady right down for her, carrying a bank of
-foam under her bows like a feather-bed cast loose. Well, as we neared
-her, and she wears first a-star-board, and then a-larboard, giving us a
-regular broadside at every tack, her shot first falls short, but as we
-shortened the distance, some of them begins to come aboard—first among
-the rigging, and cuts away some of the stuff aloft, for them Englishmen
-didn’t larn to fire low till we larnt ’em. First they comes in aloft,
-but by-and-by, in comes one—lower—crash—through the bulwarks, making the
-splinters fly like carpenter’s chips,—then another, taking a gouge out
-of the main-mast; and pretty soon agin—‘_chit_’—I recollects the sound
-of that ere shot well—‘chit’—another dashed past my ear, and glancing on
-a gun-carriage, trips up the heels of three as good men as ever walked
-the decks of that ere ship; and all this while, never a gun fires we; but
-continues steadily eating our way right down on to his quarter, the old
-man standing in the hammock nettings, watching her movements as if she
-was merely playing for his amusement. Well, as we came within carronade
-distance, them shot was coming on board rather faster than mere fun,
-and some of the young sailors begins to grumble, and by-and-by, the old
-men-of-wars-men growled too, and worked rusty—cause why—they sees the
-enemy’s mischief, and nothing done by us to aggravate them in return.
-Says Bill Vinton, the vent-holder, to me, ‘I say, Kennedy,’ says he,
-‘what’s the use—if this here’s the way they fights frigates, dam’me! but
-I’d rather be at it with the Turks agin, on their own decks as we was
-at Tripoli. It’s like a Dutch bargain—all on one side. I expects the
-next thing, they’ll order pipe down, and man the side-ropes for that ere
-Englishman to come aboard and call the muster-roll.’ ‘Avast a bit,’ says
-I; ‘never you fear the old man. No English press-gang comes on board this
-ship—old Blow-hard knows what he’s about.’
-
-“Well, by-and-by Mr. Morris, our first lieutenant, who all the while had
-been walking up and down the quarter-deck, his trumpet under his arm, and
-his eyes glistening like a school-boy’s just let out to play; by-and-by
-_he_ begins to look sour, ’ticularly when he sees his favourite coxswain
-of the first cutter carried by a shot through the opposite port. So he
-first looks hard at the Old Man, and then walks up to him, and says by
-way of a hint, in a low tone, ‘The ship is ready for action, sir, and
-the men are getting impatient;’—the Old Man never turns, but keeps his
-eye steadily on the enemy, while he replies, ‘Are—you—all ready, Mr.
-Morris?’—‘All ready, sir,’—says the lieutenant—‘Don’t fire a gun till
-I give the orders, Mr. Morris,’—says the old man. Presently up comes
-a midshipman from the main-deck, touches his hat—‘First division all
-ready, sir,—the second lieutenant reports the enemy’s shot have hurt
-his men, and he can with difficulty restrain them from returning their
-fire;’—‘Tell him to wait for orders, Mr. Morris,’ says the old man
-again—never turning his head. Well—just, you see, as the young gentleman
-turned to go below, and another shot carries off Mr. Bush, lieutenant
-of marines—just as we begins to run into their smoke, and even the old
-gun-boat men, as had been with Decatur and Somers, begins to stare, up
-jumps the old man in the air, slaps his hand on his thigh with a report
-like a pistol, and roars out in a voice that reached the gunners in the
-magazines—‘Now, Mr. Morris, give it to them,—now give it to them—fore
-and aft—round and grape—give it to ’em, sir—give it to ’em,’ and the
-words was scarce out of his mouth, before our whole broadside glanced
-at half pistol shot—the old ship trembling from her keel to her trucks,
-like an aspen, at the roar of her own batteries—instantly shooting ahead
-and doubling across his bows, we gave him the other with three cheers,
-and then at it we went—regular hammer and tongs. You would a thought
-you were in a thunder storm in the tropics, from the continual roar
-and flash of the batteries. In ten minutes, his mizen-mast went by the
-board. ‘Hurrah!’ shouts the old man; ‘hurrah, boys, we’ve made a brig of
-her.—Fire low, never mind their top hamper! hurrah! we’ll make a sloop
-of her before we’ve done.’ In ten minutes more over went her main-mast,
-carrying twenty men overboard as it went; and sure enough, sir, in thirty
-minutes, that ere Englishman was a sheer hulk, smooth as a canoe, not a
-spar standing but his bowsprit; and his decks so completely swept by our
-grape and cannister, that there was barely hands enough left to haul down
-the colours, as they had bravely nailed to the stump of their main-mast.
-‘I say, Kennedy,’ says the vent-holder to me, lying across the gun after
-she struck, looking out at the wrack through the port, and his nose was
-as black as a nigger’s from the powder flashing under it—‘I say, I wonder
-how that ere Englishman likes the smell of the old man’s snuff.’”
-
-
-
-
-OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER
-
-
-(Sailors Ashore.—Hornet and Peacock.)
-
-No. II.
-
-“Well—well—sailors, is queer animals any how—and always ready for a
-fight or frolic—and, so far as I sees, it don’t much matter which. Now,
-there was Captain ——, he was a Lieutenant then;—I was up in a draft of
-men, with him to the lakes in the war, and as there was no canals nor
-steamboats in them days, they marched us up sojer fashion. As we marched
-along the road, there was nothing but skylarking and frolic the whole
-time,—never a cow lying in the road but the lads must ride, nor a pig,
-but they must have a pull at his tail. I recollects, once’t, as we was
-passing a farm yard, Jim Albro, as was alongside of me—what does Jim do,
-but jumps over the fence and catches a goose out of the pond, and was
-clearing with it under his arm, but the farmer, too quick for him, grabs
-his musket out of his door, and levelling at Jim, roars out to drop the
-goose. Jim catches the goose’s neck tight in his hand, as it spraddles
-under his arm, and then turning his head over his shoulder, cries out,
-‘_You fire_,—I’ll wring his neck off.’ And so Jim would have got off with
-the goose, but one of the officers seeing what was going on, orders Jim
-to drop the goose, and have a care how he aggravates the honest farmers
-in that ere sort of a way; for, ‘By the powers!’ said he, ‘Mister Jim
-Albro—this isn’t the first time, and if I hear of the like agin from
-you,—but your back and the boatswain’s mate shall scrape an acquaintance
-the first moment we come within the smell of a tarred ratlin.’
-
-“It was wrong, to be sure, for Bill to take the man’s goose, seeing as
-how it was none of his; but there was one affair that same day, as the
-lads turned up to, and though a steady man, I’m free to confess I had a
-hand in’t. Why, what do you think sir, but as we what was bound for to
-fight the battles of our country—what do you think, but as we comes to
-one of them big gates they has on the roads, but the feller as keeps it,
-damme, sir, what does he do? but makes all fast, and swear that we shan’t
-go through without paying! I’m free to confess, sir, that that ere gate
-went off its hinges a little quicker than the chain of our best bower
-ever run through the hawse hole. A cummudgeonly son of a land lubber,—as
-if, because we didn’t wear long-tail coats, and high-heel boots, we was
-to pay like horses and oxen! If the miserable scamp hadn’t’ve vanished
-like a streak into the woods, we’d have paid him out of his own tar
-bucket, and rolled him over in the feathers of one of his wife’s own
-beds. But, d’ye see, that wasn’t the end of it. Them ere lawyers gets
-hold of it—and it was the first time any of them land-shirks ever came
-athwart my hawse.
-
-“When we gets to the next town, up comes a constable to the midshipman,
-supposing as how he was in command of the draft—up comes the constable,
-and says, says he, ‘Capting, I arrests you for a salt and battery, in
-behalf of these here men, as has committed it,’ meaning, you understand,
-the affair of the gate. Well, the midshipman, all ripe for frolic and fun
-himself, pulls a long face, and says gruffly, that his men hadn’t been
-engaged in no salt, or no battery; but that they was ready at all times
-to fight for their country, and asks him whereaway that same English
-battery lay, as he would answer for the lads’ salting it quick enough.
-Then the lawyer as was standing with his hands behind him, up and tells
-him that ‘it’s for a trespass in the case.’ ‘Oh! a trespass in the
-gate—you mean,’ says the midshipman; but just then the lieutenant comes
-up to see what’s the muss, and bids me put on my jacket, for d’ye see, I
-had squared off to measure the constable for a pair of black eyes—hang me
-if the feller didn’t turn as white as a sheet. ‘Put on your jacket, sir,’
-says he, ‘and leave the man alone;’ and then turning to the midshipman,
-‘Mr. ——, take the men down to the tavern and splice the main-brace, while
-I walk up to the justice’s with the gentle man to settle this affair.
-And, hark’ee, ye rascals,’ says he, ‘don’t disgrace the name of blue
-jacket in this quiet village, but behave yourselves till I return.’ Well,
-he and the lawyer walks up to the justice’s, and there they three takes a
-glass of wine together, and that’s the last we hearn of that ere business.
-
-“There agin, when we took the Peacock;—you all knows about that ere
-action; it was what I calls short and sweet. Fifteen minutes from the
-first gun, he was cut almost entirely to pieces, his main-mast gone by
-the board, six feet of water in the hold, and his flag flying in the
-fore-rigging, as a signal of distress. The sea was running so heavy, as
-to wash the muzzles of our guns, as we run down. We exchanged broadsides
-at half pistol shot, and then, as he wore to rake us, we received his
-other broadside, running him close in upon the starboard quarter, and a
-drunken sailor never hugged a post closer, nor we did that brig, till
-we had hammered day-light out of her. A queer thing is war, though,
-and I can’t say as I was ever satisfied as to its desarts, though I’ve
-often turned the thing over in my mind in mid-watch since. There was we,
-what was stowing our round shot into that ere brig, as if she had been
-short of kenteledge, and doing all we could to sweep, with our grape and
-cannister, every thing living, from her decks,—there was we, fifteen
-minutes after, working as hard as we could pull to, to keep her above
-water, while we saved her wounded, and the prisoners, like as she had
-been an unfortunate wrack, foundering at sea. But all wouldn’t do—down
-she went, carrying thirteen of her own wounded, besides some of our own
-brave lads, as was exerting themselves to save them, and mighty near did
-Bill Kennedy come to being one of the number, and having a big D marked
-agin his name, on the purser’s book, at that same time. The moment she
-showed signals of distress, all our boats was put in requisition to
-transport the prisoners and wounded to the Hornet. I was in the second
-cutter, with midshipman C——; he was a little fellow then, tho’ he’s a
-captain now. Well, we stowed her as full as she could stow, and I was
-holding on by the boat-hook in the bows, jist ready to push off, when
-midshipman C——, jumps aboard agin, and runs back to call a couple of the
-Englishmen, as was squared off at each other, at the foot of the main
-hatch ladder, settling some old grudge—(for d’ye see, sir, all discypline
-is over the moment a ship strikes)—he runs back to tell them to clear
-themselves—for the ship was sinking,—but before he could reach it, she
-rolls heavily, sways for an instant from side to side, gives a heavy
-lurch, and then, down she goes head foremost, carrying them fellers as
-was squared off agin each other, and her own wounded, besides four or
-five of our own brave lads, right down in the vortex. Our boat spun
-round and round like a top, for a moment, and then swept clear, but the
-midshipman barely saved himself, by springing into an empty chest as
-was floating by, and there he was dancing about in the heavy sea, like a
-gull in the surf, and it was nigh on two hours afore we picked him up;
-but the little fellow was jist as cool and unconsarned, as if he was in a
-canoe on a fish-pond. The next day we opens a subscription, and furnishes
-all the British seamen with two shirts, and a blue jacket and trowsers
-each,—cause why—d’ye see, they’d lost all their traps in their ship when
-she went down.”
-
-
-
-
-OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER.
-
-
-(Perry’s Victory on Lake Erie.)
-
-No. III.
-
-“But,” says I, “Kennedy—I think you said your draft was bound for the
-lakes—which did you go to, Ontario, or Erie?” “I was on both, sir,” says
-he, “afore the war was over; and we got as much accustomed to poking our
-flying jib-boom into the trees on them shores, as if the sticks was first
-cousins—which, seeing as how the ships was built in the woods, wouldn’t
-be much of a wonder. Part of that ere draft staid down on Ontario, with
-the old commodore, as was watching Sir James, and part was sent up to
-Erie. I went up to Erie and joined the Lawrence, Commodore Oliver H.
-Perry—and I hopes that old Bill Kennedy needn’t be called a braggart, if
-he says he did his part in showing off as handsome a fight on that same
-fresh-water pond, as has ever been done by an equal force on blue water.
-Our gallant young commodore, made as tight a fight of it as it has ever
-been my luck to be engaged in; and seeing as how half of his men was
-down with fever and ager, and not one in a dozen knew the difference
-between the smell of gunpowder and oil of turpentine, blow me! but I
-think it was about as well done.
-
-“You see our squadron was lying in a bay, as they calls Put-in-Bay—and
-when the enemy first hove in sight, it was in the morning, about seven
-o’clock. I knows that that was the time, because I had just been made
-Quarter-Master, by Captain Perry, and was the first as seen them through
-my glass. They was in the nor’-west, bearing down: as soon as we made
-them out to be the enemy’s fleet, up went the signal to get under way;
-our ship, the Lawrence, in course taking the lead. Well, as we was
-working slowly to windward to clear some small islands—one of ’em was
-Snake Island—I hearn Captain Perry come up to the master, and ask him in
-a low voice, whether he thought he should be able to work out to windward
-in time to get the weather-gage of the enemy; but the master said as how
-the wind was sou’-west, and light, and he didn’t think he could. ‘Then,’
-said the commodore, aloud, ‘wear ship, sir, and go to leeward, for I am
-determined to fight them to-day,’—but just then, the wind came round to
-the south’ard and east’erd, and we retained the weather-gage, and slowly
-bore down upon the enemy. They did all they could to get the wind, but
-not succeeding, hove into line, heading westward, and gallantly waited
-for us as we came down.
-
-“There lay their squadron, all light sails taken in, just like a boxer,
-with his sleeves rolled up, and handkercher tied about his loins, ready
-to make a regular stand-up fight, and there wasn’t a braver man, nor
-better sailor, in the British navy, nor that same Barclay, whose broad
-pennant floated in the van of that squadron.
-
-“Pretty soon, up runs our motto-flag, the dying words of our hero
-Lawrence—‘_Don’t give up the ship_,’ and floats proudly from our main,
-and then the general order was passed down the line by trumpet, ‘_Each
-ship, lay your enemy alongside_’—and if you ever seen a flock of wild
-geese flying south’erd in the fall of the year, you’ll have some idee
-of us, as we went down into action. The men was full of spirit, and
-panting for a fight, and even them as was so sick, as to be hardly able
-to stand, insisted upon taking their places at the guns. I recollects one
-in particular—he was a carpenter’s mate, a steady man, from Newport—he
-crawls up when we beat to quarters, and seats himself upon the head of
-one of the pumps, with the sounding-rod in his hand, looking as yellow
-as if he had just been dragged out of a North Carolina cypress swamp:
-but one of the officers comes up to him as he was sitting there, and
-says—‘You are too sick to be here, my man,—there’s no use of your being
-exposed for nothing—you had better go below.’ ‘If you please, sir,’ says
-the poor fellow, ‘if I can do nothing else, I can save the time of a
-better man, and sit here and sound the pump.’ Well, sir, as we bore
-down, the English occasionally tried our distance by a shot, and when
-we was within about a mile of ’em, one comes ricochetting across the
-water, bounds over the bulwarks, and takes that man’s head as clean off
-his shoulders, as if it had been done with his own broad-axe. I have
-hearn say, that ‘every bullet has its billet,’ and that is sartin, that
-it’s no use to dodge a shot, for if you are destined to fall by a shot,
-you will sartin fall by that same shot; and I bears in mind, that an
-English sailor, one of our prisoners, told me that in a ship of their’n a
-feller, as skulked in the cable-tier, during an action with the French,
-was found dead with a spent forty-two resting on his neck. The ball had
-come in at the starn-port—struck one of the beams for’ard, and tumbled
-right in upon him, breaking his neck, as he lay snugly coiled away in the
-cable-tier. No, no—misfortins and cannon shot is very much alike—there’s
-no dodging—every man must stand up to his work, and take his chance—if
-they miss, he is ready when they pipes to grog—if they hit, the purser’s
-book is squared, and no more charges is scored agin him.
-
-“But as I was saying, it wasn’t long before we begun to make our
-carronades tell, and then at it we went, hot and heavy, the Lawrence
-taking the lead, engaging the Detroit, and every vessel as she came up,
-obeying orders and laying her enemy alongside, in right good arnest,
-except the Niagara. She hung back—damn her—with her jib brailed up, and
-her main-topsail to the mast—consequence was, the Charlotte, as was her
-opponent, avails herself of her distance—runs up close under the starn
-of the Detroit, and both ships pours in their combined fire into our
-ship the Lawrence. I hearn the master myself, and afterwards two or
-three of the other officers, go up to the Commodore during the action,
-and call his attention to the Niagara, and complain of her treacherous
-or cowardly conduct. Well, them two ships gin it to us hot and heavy,
-and in three minutes we was so enveloped in smoke, that we only aimed
-at the flashes of their guns, for we might as well have tried to trace
-a flock of ducks in the thickest fog on the coast of Labrador, as their
-spars or hulls. I was working at one of the for’ard guns, and as after
-she was loaded, the captain of the piece stood waiting with the trigger
-lanyard in his finger, ready to pull, one of the officers calls out, ‘I
-say, sir, why don’t you fire?’ ‘I want to make her tell, sir,’ says the
-gunner,—‘I am waiting for their flash,—there it is’—and as he pulled
-trigger, a cannon shot came through the port, and dashed him to pieces
-between us, covering me and the officer all over with his brains. Their
-fire was awful; the whole of the shot of the two heaviest ships in the
-squadron pouring into us nigh on two hours without stopping. Our brig
-became a complete slaughter-house—the guns dismounted—carriages knocked
-to pieces—some of our ports knocked into one—hammock-netting shot clean
-away—iron stancheons twisted like wire—and a devilish deal more day-light
-than canvass in our bolt ropes—the wounded pouring down so fast into
-the cockpit, that the surgeons didn’t pretend to do more than apply
-tourniquets to stop the bleeding; and many of the men came back to the
-guns in that condition; while others was killed in the hands of the
-surgeons. One shot came through the cockpit, jist over the surgeon’s
-head, and killed midshipman Laub, who was coming up on deck, with a
-tourniquet at his shoulder, and another killed a seaman who had already
-lost both arms. Our guns was nearly all dismounted; and finally, there
-was but one that could be brought to bear; and so completely was the
-crew disabled, that the commodore had to work at it with his own hands.
-The men became almost furious with despair, as they found themselves
-made the target for the whole squadron; and the wounded complained
-bitterly of the conduct of the Niagara, as they lay dying on the decks,
-and in the cockpit. Two shots passed through the magazine—one knocked
-the lantern to pieces, and sent the lighted wick upon the floor; and if
-the gunner hadn’t have jumped on it with his feet, before it caught the
-loose powder—my eyes! but that ere ship and every thing on board would
-have gone into the air like a sheaf of sky-rockets, and them as was on
-board, never would have know’d which side whipped. Out of one hundred
-men that went into action, eighty-three were either killed or wounded,
-and every officer was killed or hurt except the Commodore. Our Lieutenant
-of marines, lieutenant Brooks—him as was called the Boston Apollo—the
-handsomest man in the sarvice, was cut nearly in two by a cannon shot,
-and died before the close of the action.
-
-“It was nigh on all up with us. The men was real grit though, and even
-the wounded, cried, ‘Blow her up,’ rather than strike. Well, as things
-stood, there was an end of the Lawrence, so far as fighting went,—and our
-Commodore says, says he,—‘Lieutenant Yarnall, the American flag must not
-be pulled down over my head this day, while life remains in my body: I
-will go on board that ship and bring her myself into action—and I will
-leave it to you to pull down the Lawrence’s flag, if there is no help for
-it.’ So we got our barge alongside, by the blessing of Heaven, not so
-much injured but what she’d float, and off we pushed for the Niagara—the
-Commodore standing with his motto flag under his arm; but as soon as the
-enemy caught sight of us, they delivered a whole broadside directly at
-the boat—and then peppered away so briskly, that the water all around us
-bubbled like a duck-pond in a thunder shower. There Perry stood, erect
-and proud, in the starn sheets—his pistols strapped in his belt, and his
-sword in his hand—his eyes bent upon the Niagara,—as if he’d jump the
-distance,—never heeding the shot flying around him like hail. The men
-begged him to sit down—they entreated him with tears in their eyes—but it
-was not until I dragged him down by main force,—the men declaring that
-they would lay upon their oars and be taken—that he consented.
-
-“There’s them as says the Niagara _wouldn’t_ come down, and there’s them
-as says she _couldn’t_—all _I_ knows is, that when our gallant young
-Commodore took the quarter-deck, she walked down into the thickest of it
-quick enough—my eyes! how we did give it to ’em, blazing away from both
-sides at once. We ran in between the Detroit and Charlotte, our guns
-crammed to the muzzle, and delivered both of our broadsides into them at
-the same time—grape, cannister and all,—raking the others as we passed;
-and the Niagara lads showed it wasn’t no fault of their’n, that they
-hadn’t come earlier to their work. I never know’d guns sarved smarter,
-than they sarved their’n, till the end of the action—nor with better
-effect. We soon silenced the enemy, and run up the stars again on the
-Lawrence as she lay a complete wrack, shattered and cut up among them,
-for all the world like a dead whale surrounded by shirks. They struck one
-after another, much like you may have seen the flags of a fleet run down
-after the evening gun; and as the firing ceased, and the heavy smoke bank
-rolled off to leeward, shiver my timbers! but it was a sight for a Yankee
-tar to see the striped bunting slapping triumphantly in the breeze over
-the British jacks at their gaffs.
-
-“If there’s any man, tho’, as says that their Commodore wasn’t a man
-every inch of him, aye! and as good a seaman, too, as ever walked a
-caulked plank, there’s one here, and his name’s Bill Kennedy, as will
-tell him, that he’s a know-nothing, and talks of a better man nor
-himself. Aye—aye—scrape the crown off his buttons, and he might mess
-with Decatur and Lawrence, and splice the main-brace with Stewart and
-Hull, and they be proud of his company. He was badly cut up, tho’, and
-I have hear’n tell, that when he got home to England, he wouldn’t go
-for to see the lady what he’d engaged to marry, but sent her word by a
-friend—I don’t know who that friend was—but suppose it was his first
-lieutenant, in course,—he sends her word that he wouldn’t hold her to her
-engagement—cause why, says he, ‘I’m all cut to pieces, and an’t the man I
-was, when she engaged for to be my wife.’ Well, what d’ye think the noble
-girl says, when she hearn this;—‘Tell him,’ says she, ‘as long as there’s
-enough of him left to hold his soul, I will be his.’—I say, Master Tom,
-that’s most up to the Virginny gals. Well—well—there never was but one,
-as would have said as much for Bill Kennedy, and she, poor Sue—she
-married curly-headed Bob, captain of the main-top in the Hornet,—in a
-pet, and was sorry when it was too late. She was a good girl, though—and
-I’ve lent her and her young ones a hand once’t or twice since in the
-breakers.”
-
-
-
-
-OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER.
-
-
-(Chesapeake and Shannon—Boat Fight on Lake Ontario.)
-
-No. IV.
-
-“Well, Mr. Kennedy,” says Lee, “you have told us of your victories,—have
-you always been victorious—have you always had the luck on your
-side,—where did you lose your arm?” The old man took a long and
-deliberate survey of the horizon ahead of us, apparently not well
-pleased with a dark cloud just beginning to lift itself above its edge;
-but whatever inferences he drew from it he kept to himself, and having
-relieved his mouth from the quid, and replenished the vacuum by a fresh
-bite of the pig-tail, he leisurely turned to us again, and replied with
-some emphasis—‘Them as fights the English, fights men—and though it’s
-been my luck to be taken twice by them, once’t in the unlucky Chesapeake,
-and once’t on the lakes, and though I owes the loss of my flipper to a
-musket marked G.R., I hopes I bears them no more grudge than becomes a
-true yankee sailor. Now, speaking of that, I’ve always obsarved, since
-the war, when our ships is in the same port, that however much we
-always fights, when we falls in with each other, that the moment the
-English or Americans gets into a muss with the French, or the Dutch, or
-the Spaniards, that we makes common cause, and tumbles in and helps one
-another—but I’m blest! but that Chesapeake business was a bad affair.
-They took the ship;—let them have the credit of it, say I;—but no great
-credit neither; for half the men was foreigners in a state of mutiny,
-and none of the men know’d their officers. I hearn Captain Lawrence say
-himself, after he was carried below, that when he ordered the bugle-man
-to sound, to repel boarders, the cursed Portuguese was so frightened, or
-treacherous, that no sound came from the bugle, though his cheeks swelled
-as if in the act; and I hearn a British officer say to one of our’n,
-that Captain Lawrence owed his death to his wearing a white cravat into
-action, and that a sharp-shooter in their tops picked him off, knowing as
-how, that no common man would be so dressed. I don’t complain of their
-getting the best of it, for that’s the fortune of war; but they behaved
-badly after the colours was hauled down. They fired down the hatches,
-and“—lifting his hat, and exhibiting a seam that measured his head from
-the crown to the ear—”I received this here slash from the cutlash of a
-drunken sailor, for my share, as I came up the main-hatch, after she
-surrendered—My eyes! all the stars in heaven was dancing before me as
-I tumbled back senseless on the gun-deck below; and when they brought
-the ship into Halifax, she smelt more like a slaughter-house nor a
-Christian man-of-war. Howsomever, they whipt us, and there’s an end of
-the matter—only I wish’t our gallant Lawrence might have died before the
-colours came down, and been spared the pain of seeing his ship in the
-hands of the enemy. It was what we old sailors expected, though. She was
-an unlucky ship, and that disgraceful affair between her and the Leopard,
-was enough to take the luck out of any ship. Now if it had been “Old
-Ironsides,”[1] or the “Old Wagon,”[2] I’m blessed! but the guns would
-have gone off themselves, had the whole crew mutinied and refused to come
-to quarters, when they heard the roar of the British cannon—aye, aye,
-Old Ironsides’ bull-dogs have barked at John Bull often enough, aye, and
-always held him by the nose, too, when they growled—but the Chesapeake’s
-colours was hauled down, while the Shannon’s was flying.—That’s enough—we
-had to knock under—let them have the credit of it, say I.—They’d little
-cause, except in that ere fight, to crow over the Yankee blue jackets.
-They whipt us, and there’s an end of the matter, and be damned to
-’em.—But that ain’t answering your question, as how I lost my larboard
-flipper. It wasn’t in that ere unfortunate ship, altho’ if it would have
-saved the honour of the flag, Bill Kennedy would willingly have given
-his head and his arms too—but it was under Old Chauncey on Lake Ontario.
-It was in a boat expedition on that ’ere lake, that I first got a loose
-sleeve to my jacket, besides being made a pris’ner into the bargain. You
-see, Sir James was shut up in Kingston, and beyond the harbour there
-was a long bay or inlet setting up some three or four miles. Now, the
-Commodore thought it mought be, there was more of his ships in that
-same bay; so he orders Lieutenant ——, him as the English called the
-‘Dare-devil Yankee,’—the same as went in with a barge the year before
-and burned a heavy armed schooner on the stocks, with all their stores,
-and came away by the light of it—at—at—I misremember the place—he orders
-him to proceed up the bay to reconniter—to see whether there was any of
-the enemy’s ships at anchor there—to get all the information he could of
-his movements, and to bring off a prisoner if he could catch one—that
-the Commodore mought overhaul him at his leisure. So the lieutenant
-takes a yawl as we had captured some days before, having Sir James’s
-own flag painted upon her bows, with midshipman Hart, and eight of us
-men, and pulls leisurely along shore, till we made the entrance of the
-bay. It was a bright summer afternoon, and the water was as calm as
-the Captain’s hand-basin—not a ripple to be seen. Well, the entrance
-was narrow, and somewhat obstructed by small islands; but we soon got
-through them, never seeing two heavy English men-of-war barges, as was
-snugly stowed in the bushes; but about three miles up, we spies a raft of
-timber, with two men on it. We gave way, and before long got up abreast
-of it. When we got close aboard the raft, the lieutenant hailing one
-of the men, calls him to the side nearest the boat, and says—‘My man,
-what are you lying here for, doing nothing—the wind and tide are both in
-your favour—don’t you know we are waiting down at Kingston for this here
-timber for his Majesty’s sarvice—what are you idling away your time for
-here?’ The feller first looks at Sir James’s flag painted upon the bows
-of the yawl; and then at the lieutenant, and then again at the flag—and
-then at the lieutenant—and then opens his eyes, and looks mighty scarey,
-without saying anything, with his mouth wide open,—‘I say,’ says the
-Lieutenant agin, ‘I say, you feller with the ragged breeches, do you mean
-to swallow my boat—why don’t you answer—what the devil are you doing
-here?’ The feller scratches his head, and then stammers, ‘I—I—_I_ know
-_you_—you are him as burnt Mr. Peter’s schooner last year.’ ‘Well,’ says
-the Lieutenant, ‘what are you going to do with this here timber.’ ‘I’m
-carrying it down for a raising,’ says he. ‘What!’ says the Lieutenant,
-‘do you use ship’s knees and transom beams for house raising in this part
-of the country? It won’t do, my man. Bear a hand, my lads, and pile all
-the boards and light stuff in the centre, and we’ll make a bonfire in
-honour of his most sacred Majesty.’ So we set fire to it, and took the
-spokesman on board the yawl,—towing the other man in their skiff astarn,
-intending to release them both when we had got all the information that
-we wanted out of them. We returned slowly down the bay again, the blazing
-raft making a great smoke; but as we neared the outlet, what does we see,
-but them two heavy barges pulling down to cut us off. We had to run some
-distance nearly parallel with them, an island intervening—so we every
-moment came nearer to them, and soon within speaking distance. The men
-gave way hearty—in fear of an English prison, but as we came nearer each
-other, some of the officers in the English boats recognises Lieutenant
-——, cause why—they had been prisoners with us—and hails him—“G——,” says
-they, ‘you must submit, it’s no use for you to resist, we are four to
-your one. Come, old feller, don’t make any unnecessary trouble, but give
-up—you’ve got to knock under.’ The Lieutenant said nothing,—but he was a
-particular man, and had his own notions upon the subject, for, bidding
-the men give way, he coolly draws sight upon the spokesman with his
-rifle, and most sartin, as he was a dead shot, there would have been a
-vacant commission in His Majesty’s Navy, hadn’t the raftsman, who was
-frightened out of his wits, caught hold of him by the tails of his coat
-and dragged him down into the bottom of the boat. The Lieutenant drops
-his rifle, and catches the feller by his legs and shoulders and heaves
-him clear of the boat towards the skiff—while we men, dropping our oars,
-gave them a volley with our muskets, and then laid down to it again. We
-had taken them by surprise, but as we dashed along ahead, they returned
-our fire with interest, peppering some of our lads and killing Midshipman
-Hart outright, who merely uttered an exclamation as his oar flew up above
-his head, and he fell dead in the bottom of the boat. Well, we see’d
-the headmost barge all ready, lying on her oars and waiting for us, and
-as there was no running the gauntlet past her fire, we made for another
-opening from the bay as didn’t appear to be obstructed, but as we nears
-it, and just begins to breathe free, three boats full of lobsters, of
-red-coats, shoots right across, and closes the entrance effectually on
-that side. We was in a regular rat-trap. We had been seen and watched
-from the moment we had got inside of the bay, burning the raft and all.
-‘Well, my lads,’ says the Lieutenant, ‘this will never do—we must go
-about—hug the shore close, and try to push by the barges.’ So about we
-went, but as we neared the shore, there was a party of them ’ere riflemen
-in their leggins and hunting-shirts, all ready for us, waiting just as
-cool and unconsarned as if we was a parcel of Christmas turkies, put up
-for them to shoot at. ‘Umph,’ says the Lieutenant again, ‘’twon’t do
-for them fellers to be cracking their coach-whips at us neither—we’ve
-nothing to do for it, my boys, but to try our luck, such as it is, with
-the barges.’ So as we pulled dead for the entrance of the bay, they lay
-on their oars, all ready for us, and as we came up, they poured such a
-deadly fire into that ere yawl as I never seed before or since. There
-was nineteen wounds among eight of us. The Lieutenant was the only one
-unhurt, though his hat was riddled through and through, and his clothes
-hung about him in tatters. How he was presarved, is a miracle, for he was
-standing all the while in the starn-sheets, the most exposed of any on
-board. They kept firing away, as if they intended to finish the business,
-and gin no quarter, the men doing what little they could to pull at the
-oars; but a boat of wounded and dying men couldn’t make much headway. Our
-men was true Yankee lads, tho’—and no flinching.
-
-“There was one man named Patterson, as pulled on the same thwart with
-me, and of all the men I’ve ever sailed with, he showed most of what
-I calls real grit. At their first volley, he gets a shot through his
-thigh, shattering the bone so that it hung twisted over on one side, but
-he pulls away at his oar as if nothing had happened. Presently another
-passes through his lungs, and comes out at his back—still he pulls away,
-and didn’t give in;—at last, a third takes him through the throat, and
-passes out back of his neck;—then, and not till then, did he call out to
-the lieutenant—‘Mr. G—, I’m killed, sir;—I’m dead;—I can’t do no more.’
-So the lieutenant says—‘Throw your oar overboard, Patterson, and slide
-down into the bottom of the boat, and make yourself as comfortable as you
-can.’ Well—what does Patterson do, as he lays in the bottom of the boat
-bleeding to death, what does he do but lifts his arm over the gunwale,
-and shaking his fist, cry, ‘Come on, damn ye, one at a time, and I’m
-enough for ye as I am.’ Aye, aye, Patterson was what I calls real grit.
-He was a good, quiet, steady man, too, on board ship; always clean and
-ac_tyv_e, and cheerful in obeying orders. Howsomever, his time had come,
-and in course there was an end of his boat duty in this world.
-
-“Well—they continued to fire into us as fast as they could load, cause
-why, they was aggravated that so small a force should have fired into
-them; but the lieutenant takes off his hat and makes a low bow, to let
-them know as how he had surrendered, and then directs me to hold up an
-oar’s blade; but they takes no notice of neither, and still peppered
-away; but just as we concludes that they didn’t intend to give no
-quarter, but meant to extarminate us outright, they slacks firing, and,
-taking a long circuit, as if we’d have been a torpedo, or some other
-dangerous combustible, pulled up aboard. There wasn’t much for them to
-be afeard on though, for with the exception of the lieutenant, who was
-untouched, there was nothing in the boat but dead and wounded men.
-They took us in tow, and carried us down to Kingston, and mighty savage
-was Sir James;—he said that it was unpardonable that so small a force
-should have attempted resistance, and he and the lieutenant getting
-high, and becoming aggravated by something as was said between them,
-Sir James claps him in a state-room under arrest, and keeps him there
-under a sentry, with a drawn baggonet, for nigh on two months. After
-that he sends the lieutenant to Quebec, and then to England, where he
-remained till the close of the war; but them of us men as didn’t die of
-our wounds was kept down in Montreal, until——” Here the old man broke
-off abruptly, and taking another long look at the horizon, said, “If I
-a’nt much mistaken, Master Tom, there’s something a-brewing ahead there,
-as will make this here craft wake up, as if she was at the little end
-of a funnel, with a harricane pouring through the other—and if I knows
-the smell of a Potomac thundergust, we’ll have it full blast here before
-we’re many minutes older.”
-
-[1] Frigate Constitution.
-
-[2] Frigate United States.
-
-
-
-
-LEE’S PARTISAN LEGION.
-
-
-Old Kennedy quietly proceeded to make the necessary preparations to
-encounter the tempest. His peacoat was got out of the locker, and tightly
-buttoned about him, and his tarpaulin well secured by its lanyard to
-his button-hole. The mainsail and foresail were stowed and secured, and
-nothing but the jib, the bonnet of which was reefed down, was allowed to
-remain spread upon our dark and graceful schooner.
-
-The cloud in the horizon began to extend itself, increasing and
-gradually rising and covering the sky, and the old man’s prediction was
-evidently about to be fulfilled. A dead calm lay upon the river, and a
-preternatural stillness clothed in a sort of stupor the whole face of
-nature around us; while low muttering rolls of thunder from the dark
-cloud, and the frequent, sudden, crinkling lightning, glittering across
-its surface, warned us that we were about to encounter one of those
-violent and terrible thunder-storms which not unfrequently occur in this
-part of the country.
-
-The distant muttering in the horizon rapidly became louder, and the
-perfect stillness of the forest was broken. The melancholy sighs of the
-coming blast increased to wails,—the boughs of the trees rubbed against
-each other with a slow, see-saw motion, and, as the storm increased,
-grated with a harsh and continued groaning. The lightning became quick
-and incessant, and blindingly vivid, and the dark gloom of the forest
-was rendered still darker by its rapid glare. The river itself soon was
-lashed into foam behind us, and in a few moments more, accompanied by
-huge clouds of dust, the tempest came roaring upon us. The cultivated
-fields and cheerful plantations which were but now smiling in quietness
-and repose, on the other side of the river, were now instantly shut out
-by the deep gloom. As the gust struck the schooner, she checked for a
-moment as if in surprise, and then shot forward with the speed of an
-arrow from the bow, swept on in the furious tempest as if she had been a
-gossamer or feather, enveloped in dust and darkness, the rain and hail
-hissing as it drove onwards, and the terrific thunder, now like whole
-broadsides of artillery, now quick and incessant peals of musquetry,
-roaring with frightful violence around her, while the deep black forest,
-lit up by the blue lightning, bellowed incessantly with the hollow
-echoes. As we swept forward with frantic swiftness, a quivering white
-flash struck the top of an immense oak, and ere the crashing, deafening
-roar of the thunder followed, it was torn and splintered, shivered and
-burning, hurled on by the blast.
-
-As soon as the squall struck us, we ensconced ourselves below, in full
-confidence of our safety with Old Kennedy at the helm; and a fine subject
-would the old seaman have been for a painter, as he sat amid the fury of
-the storm, stern and erect, the tiller under the stump of his left arm,
-and the jib-sheets with one turn around the cleet in his right hand—the
-usual surly expression of his countenance increased into grim defiance,
-as he steadily and unmovingly kept his eyes fixed into the gloom ahead.
-At one time we darted by a sloop at anchor, which had let go every thing
-by the run, her sails over her side in the water, on which, if the yacht
-had struck, she would have been crumpled up like a broken egg-shell; but
-thanks to our old Quartermaster’s care, we dashed by in the gloom, his
-eyes never even for a moment turning on her as we passed.
-
-The storm swept us on in its fury for some time, when it gradually abated
-in violence, and began to subside. The heavy clouds, flying higher and
-higher in detached masses in the heavens, by and bye lifted themselves in
-the western sky, and through the ragged intervals the setting sun poured
-his last rays over the dripping forest, bronzing the dark sides of our
-little schooner as he sunk and disappeared beneath the horizon. As the
-evening wore on, a star here and there discovered itself struggling amid
-the scud flying over it, and presently the moon shone out with her broad
-and silver light, and every vestige of the storm had disappeared.
-
-As we glided gaily on, with a fresh, fine breeze, towards our cottage
-home past the deep forest, the silence was broken by a long, melancholy
-howl, which I supposed was that of a solitary wolf, but Lee said that
-it was more probably from some one of the large breed of dogs which
-are found on most of the plantations. Lee’s mind was of a sad and
-pensive, although not at all of a gloomy cast; and like most men of
-that character, he required strong excitement to arouse him; but when
-aroused, of all delightful companions that I have ever met, he was the
-man. The excitement of the storm had been sufficient stimulus, and giving
-the reins to his wild spirits and excited feelings, he entertained us
-with an incessant stream of anecdote and adventure. The howl of the
-wolf had recalled to mind an incident in the life of his ancestor,
-Lieutenant-Colonel Lee, and in connection, he related it with many other
-adventures of the celebrated Partisan Legion. I will not attempt to use
-his beautiful and spirit-stirring language, but will confine myself to
-a few disjointed anecdotes, of the many which he related of the dashing
-corps, as they happen to recur to my memory.
-
-The Legion, intended to act independently or conjointly with the main
-army, as circumstances might require, was composed of three companies
-of infantry, and three troops of cavalry, amounting in all to three
-hundred and fifty men, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Lee, who,
-every inch a soldier, had won for himself in the Southern campaigns,
-and particularly in the masterly retreat of Green, before Cornwallis,
-the honourable distinction of being called “the eye of the Southern
-army.” He was Green’s confidential adviser and constant friend:—a stern
-disciplinarian, he was nevertheless beloved by his officers and men, and
-so careful was he of the interests of the latter, that while the rest of
-the army were suffering, the Legion by his exertions was always retained
-in the highest state of personal appearance and discipline. The horses
-were powerful and kept in high condition;—indeed Lee has been accused of
-being more careful for their safety than for that of his men. The cavalry
-in the British army mounted on inferior horses, could not stand a moment
-before them; and armed with their long heavy sabres, Lee’s troopers were
-considered full match for double the force of the enemy.
-
-The Legion infantry were well equipped, and thoroughly disciplined men,
-and acted in unison with the cavalry. They were commanded by Captain
-Michael Rudolph, a man of small stature, but of the most determined
-and daring courage, and of great physical strength. He always led in
-person the “forlorn hope,” when the Legion’s services were required in
-the storm of posts, and he was so completely the idol of his men, that
-it was only necessary that he should be detailed on duty of the most
-desperate character, that the infantry, to a man, were anxious to be
-engaged in it. The leading captain of the cavalry, James Armstrong, was
-almost precisely his counterpart in person, in strength, in undaunted
-courage and heroic daring, beloved by his men, ahead of whom he was
-always found in the charge. O’Neal, also of the cavalry, was a bold and
-gallant man, who fought his way up from the ranks; for no carpet knight
-had consideration in the corps. In an early part of his career, he came
-near cutting off in the bud, Cornwallis’ favourite cavalry officer,
-Lieutenant-Colonel Tarleton; for this officer, whatever his merits or
-demerits, endeavoured to enter a window at which O’Neal was posted, when
-the latter, dropping his carabine, snapped it within an inch of his head,
-but the piece missing fire, Tarleton very coolly looked up at him with a
-smile, and said, “You have missed it for this time, my lad,” and wheeling
-his horse, joined the rest of his troop, who were on the retreat.
-
-It were perhaps difficult to select the brave from a body of men who
-were all brave, but it is not invidious to say, that there was not a
-man of more fearless courage in the corps than Lieutenant Manning of
-the Legion infantry. At the battle of Eutaw, commanding his platoon to
-charge, he rushed on in his usual reckless manner, without stopping or
-looking behind him, until he was brought up by a large stone house, into
-which the Royal York Volunteers under Lieutenant-Colonel Cruger, were
-retiring. The British were on all sides, and no American soldier within
-two hundred yards of him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he threw himself
-upon a British officer, and seizing him by the collar, wrested his sword
-from his grasp, exclaiming, in a harsh voice, “You are my prisoner, sir.”
-Interposing him between the enemy and himself, as a shield from the heavy
-fire pouring from the windows, he then very coolly and deliberately
-backed out of danger: the prisoner, who was not deemed by his brother
-officers a prodigy of valour, pompously enumerating his rank and titles,
-which Manning occasionally interrupted with, “You are right—you are
-right—you’re just the man, sir,—you shall preserve _me_ from danger, and
-rest assured I’ll take good care of _you_.”
-
-Manning had retreated some distance from the house, when he saw his
-friend Captain Joyett, of the Virginia line, engaged in single combat
-with a British officer. The American was armed with his sword, while the
-Briton was defending himself with a bayonet. As the American approached,
-the Englishman made a thrust with the bayonet, which Joyett successfully
-parried with his sword, when both of them dropping the arms which they
-could not wield in so close an encounter, simultaneously clinched, and
-being men of great and nearly equal bodily strength, they were soon
-engaged in a desperate and deadly struggle. While thus engaged, an
-English grenadier seeing the danger of his officer, ran up and with his
-bayonet made a lounge, which luckily missing Joyett’s body, passed only
-through the skirts of his coat, but the bayonet becoming entangled in
-the folds, upon its withdrawal dragged both of the combatants together
-to the ground. The soldier having disengaged it, was about deliberately
-to transfix Joyett by a second thrust, when Manning, seeing the danger
-of his friend, without being sufficiently near in the crisis to assist
-him, called out as he hurried up in an authoritative tone, “You would
-not murder the gentleman, you brute!”—The grenadier supposing himself
-addressed by one of his own officers, suspended the contemplated blow
-and turned towards the speaker, but before he could recover from his
-surprise, Manning cut him across the eyes with his sword, while Joyett
-disengaging himself from his opponent, snatched up the musket, and
-with one blow laid him dead with the butt;—the valiant prisoner whom
-Manning had dragged along, and who invariably asserted that he had been
-captured by “Joyett, a huge Virginian,”—instead of Manning, who was a
-small man—standing a horror-struck spectator of the tragedy. An equally
-brave man was Sergeant Ord, of Manning’s company;—in the surprise of
-the British at Georgetown, when a company of the Legion infantry had
-captured a house with its enclosures, the enemy made an attempt to
-regain it; the commanding officer calling out to his men, “Rush on, my
-brave fellows—they are only militia, and have no bayonets;”—Ord placing
-himself in front of the gate as they attempted to enter, laid six of
-them in succession, dead at his feet, accompanying each thrust with—“Oh!
-no bayonets here—none to be sure!”—following up his strokes with such
-rapidity that the party were obliged to give up the attempt and retire.
-
-But perhaps there could have been no two characters in the corps more
-the perfect antipodes of each other, than the two surgeons of the
-cavalry, Irvine and Skinner, for while Irvine was entirely regardless
-of his person, and frequently found engaged sword in hand, in the
-thickest of the fight, where his duty by no means called him, Skinner
-was as invariably found in the rear, cherishing his loved person from
-the threatened danger. Indeed he was a complete counterpart of old
-Falstaff;—the same fat and rotund person—the same lover of good cheer
-and good wine—and entertaining the same aversion to exposing his dear
-body to the danger of missiles or cuts;—not only was he a source of fun
-in himself, “but he was the cause of it in others.” He asserted that his
-business was in the rear—to cure men, not to kill them; and when Irvine
-was wounded at the charge of Quinby’s bridge, he refused to touch him,
-until he had dressed the hurts of the meanest of the soldiers, saying
-that Matthew Irvine was served perfectly right, and had no business to be
-engaged out of his vocation. At the night alarm at Ninety-six, Colonel
-Lee, hastening forward to ascertain the cause, met the Doctor in full
-retreat, and stopping him, addressed him, with—“Where so fast, Doctor—not
-frightened I hope,”—“No, Colonel,” replied Skinner—“not frightened—but I
-confess, most infernally alarmed.” His eccentricities extended not alone
-to his acts, but to every thing about him. Among other peculiarities,
-he wore his beard long, and unshorn, and upon being asked by a brother
-officer why he did so, he replied, that “that was a secret between Heaven
-and himself, which no human impertinence should ever penetrate.” Like
-Falstaff, and with similar success, he considered himself the admired
-of the fair sex,—“Ay!” said he, to Captain Carns, of the infantry, “Ay,
-Carns, I have an _eye_!” Yet Skinner was by no means a man to be trifled
-with, for he was not devoid of a certain sort of courage, as he had
-proved in half a dozen duels, in one of which he had killed his man. When
-asked how it was, that he was so careful of his person in action, when he
-had shown so plainly that he was not deficient in courage,—he replied,
-“That he considered it very arrogant in a surgeon, whose business it was
-to cure, to be aping the demeanour and duty of a commissioned officer,
-and that he was no more indisposed to die than other gentlemen, but
-that he had an utter aversion to the noise and tumult of battle,—that
-it stunned and stupified him.” On one occasion, when the Legion was
-passing through a narrow defile, the centre was alarmed by the drums
-of the infantry beating to arms in front,—Skinner, with the full sense
-of what was due to himself, whirled about, and giving his horse a short
-turn by the bridle, brought him down on his back in the middle of the
-defile, completely blocking it up, and preventing either egress or
-ingress—relief or retreat. The infantry and cavalry which had passed the
-gorge, immediately deployed on the hill in front, while the remainder
-of the Legion, galloping up, were completely severed by this singular
-and unexpected obstruction, until Captain Egglestone dismounting some
-of his strongest troopers, succeeded in dragging the horse out of the
-defile by main force. It turned out that the alarm was false, otherwise
-the doctor’s terror might have caused the destruction of one-half of the
-corps.
-
-But to recur to the incident brought to mind by the howling of the wolf.
-When the Legion was on its march to form a junction with Marion, on the
-little Pedee, it one night encamped in a large field on the southern
-side of a stream, with the main road in front. The night passed on very
-quietly, until about two or three in the morning, when the officer of
-the day reported that a strange noise had been heard by the picquet in
-front, on the great road, resembling the noise of men moving through
-the adjoining swamp. While he was yet speaking, the sentinel in that
-quarter fired his piece, which was immediately followed by the bugle
-calling in the horse patroles, the invariable custom upon the approach
-of an enemy. The drums instantly beat to arms, and the troops arranged
-for defence. The sentries on being questioned, all concurred in the
-same account, “and one patrol of horse asserted that they had heard
-horsemen concealing with the greatest care their advance.” Lee was in
-great perplexity, for he knew that he was not within striking distance
-of any large body of the enemy, and that Marion was at least two days
-distance in advance; but soon a sentinel in another direction fired, and
-the same report was brought in from him; and it was apparent, however
-unaccountable, that the enemy were present. A rapid change in the
-formation of the troops was made to meet the attack in this quarter,
-but it was hardly accomplished before the fire of a third sentinel in a
-different direction, communicated the intelligence of danger from another
-quarter. Feelings of intense anxiety were now aroused, and preparations
-were made for a general assault, as soon as light should allow it to be
-made. The picquets and sentinels held their stations, the horse patrols
-were called in, and the corps changed its position in silence, and with
-precision upon every new communication, with the combined object of
-keeping the fires between them and the enemy, and the horse in the rear
-of the infantry.
-
-While thus engaged, another and rapid discharge by the sentinels, on the
-line of the great road, plainly indicated that the enemy were in force,
-and that with full understanding of their object, they had surrounded
-them. It was also evident that there must be a large body of the enemy,
-from their covering so large a segment of the circle around them. It was
-equally apparent that they could expect no aid from any quarter, and
-relying upon themselves, the corps awaited in extreme anxiety, the scene
-which the day was to usher upon them.
-
-Lee passed along the line of infantry and cavalry, in a low tone urging
-upon them the necessity of profound silence, reminding them that in
-the approaching contest they must sustain their high reputation, and
-expressing his confidence, that with their accustomed bravery, they
-would be able to cut their way through all opposing obstacles, and reach
-the Pedee. His address was answered by whispers of applause, and having
-formed the cavalry and infantry into two columns, he awaited anxiously
-the break of day, to give the signal for action. It soon appeared, and
-the columns advanced on the great road; infantry in front, baggage in
-the centre, and cavalry in the rear. As soon as the head of the column
-reached the road, the van officer proceeding a few hundred yards received
-the same account that had been given from the sentinel that had fired
-last.
-
-The enigma remained unexplained, and no enemy being in view, there could
-be but little doubt that the attack was to be from ambushment, and the
-column moved slowly on, expecting every moment to receive their fire.
-But the van officer’s attention having been accidentally attracted, he
-examined, and found along the road, the tracks of a large pack of wolves.
-The mystery was now solved; it was evident that the supposed enemy was
-no other than the pack of wild beasts, which, turned from their route
-by the fire of the sentinels, had passed still from point to point in a
-wide circuit, bent upon the attainment of their object. A quantity of
-provisions had been stored some time previously on their line of march,
-but having become spoiled, it was abandoned in the vicinity of the
-night’s encampment, and the wolves had been disturbed by the videts, in
-the nightly progress to their regale. The agitation instantly subsided,
-and wit and merriment flashed on all sides, “every one appearing anxious
-to shift the derision from himself upon his neighbour, the commandant
-himself coming in for his share; and as it was the interest of the many
-to fix the stigma on the few, the corps unanimously charged the officer
-of the day, the guards, the patrols and picquets, with gross stupidity,
-hard bordering upon cowardice:” nevertheless, they were none the less
-relieved by the happy termination of an adventure attended by so many
-circumstances naturally alarming, and it long passed as an excellent joke
-in the Legion, under the title of the “Wolf reconnoitre.”
-
-The music sounded merrily, and the column marched on, elate with the
-fun and novelty of the adventure, and of the buglers none blew a more
-cheery strain than little Jack Ellis the bugler of Armstrong’s troop.
-He was a fine boy, small and intelligent, as well as young and handsome,
-and a general favourite in the Legion. Poor little fellow! he met his
-death under circumstances peculiarly tragic and cruel, not long after.
-When the Southern army, under Green, was slowly making its masterly
-retreat before Cornwallis, the Legion formed part of the rear-guard, and
-was consequently almost continually in sight of the van of the enemy,
-commanded by Brigadier-General O’Hara. The duty devolving upon it,
-severe in the day, was extremely so in the night, for numerous patrols
-and picquets were constantly required to be on the alert, to prevent
-the enemy from taking advantage of the darkness to get near the main
-army by circuitous routes, so that one half of the troops of the rear
-guard were alternately put on duty day and night, and the men were not
-able to get more than six hours sleep out of the forty-eight. But the
-men were in fine spirits, notwithstanding the great fatigue to which
-they were subjected. They usually, at the break of day, hurried on, to
-gain as great a distance in advance as possible, that they might secure
-their breakfast, the only meal during the rapid and hazardous retreat.
-One drizzly and cold morning, the officers and dragoons, in pursuance of
-this custom, had hurried on to the front, and just got their corn cakes
-and meat on the coals, when a countryman, mounted on a small and meagre
-pony, came galloping up, and hastily asking for the commanding officer,
-he informed him that the British column, leaving the main line of march,
-were moving obliquely in a different direction, and that, discovering the
-manœuvre from a field where he was burning brush, he had run home, caught
-the first horse he could lay his hands upon, and hurried along with the
-information. Unwilling to believe the report of the countryman, although
-he could not well doubt it, and reluctant to disturb so materially the
-comfort of the men, as to deprive them of the breakfast for which they
-were waiting with keen appetites, Lee ordered Captain Armstrong to take
-one section of horse, accompanied by the countryman, to return on the
-route, and having reconnoitred, to make his report.
-
-Circumstances, however, strengthening him in the belief that the
-information of the countryman was correct, he took a squadron of cavalry,
-and followed on to the support of Armstrong, whom he overtook at no great
-distance ahead. Perceiving no sign of the enemy, he again concluded that
-the countryman was mistaken. He therefore directed Armstrong to take the
-guide and three dragoons, and to advance still further on the road, while
-he returned with the squadron to finish their breakfast. The countryman
-mounted on his sorry nag, protested against being thus left to take care
-of himself, asserting that though the dragoons on their spirited and
-powerful horses were sure of safety, if pursued—he, on his jaded hack,
-was equally sure of being taken. Lee acknowledged the danger of the
-friendly guide, dismounted the little bugler, and giving the countryman
-his horse, he placed Ellis upon the hack, sending him on in front to
-report to the commanding officer. After having returned a short distance,
-the squadron entered the woods, on the road side, and the dragoons
-leisurely proceeded to finish their breakfast—but they had hardly got it
-out of their haversacks, when a firing of musketry was heard, and almost
-immediately after the clatter of horses’ hoofs coming on at full gallop.
-The next moment, Armstrong, with his dragoons and the countryman came in
-sight, pursued by a troop of Tarleton’s dragoons, at the top of their
-speed.
-
-Lee saw Armstrong with his small party well in front and hard in hand,
-and felt no anxiety about them, as he knew that their horses were so
-superior to those of the enemy that they were perfectly safe, but the
-danger of the bugler, who could be but little ahead, immediately caused
-him serious uneasiness. Wishing however, to let the British squadron
-get as far from support as possible, he continued in the woods for a
-few moments, intending to interpose in time to save the boy. Having
-let them get a sufficient distance, and assuring himself that there
-was nothing coming up to their support, he put the squadron in motion
-and appeared on the road, but only in time to see the enraged dragoons
-overtake and sabre the poor little suppliant, as he in vain implored
-for quarter. Infuriated at the sight, he gave orders to charge, and the
-English officer had barely time to form, when Lee’s squadron was upon
-them like a whirlwind—killing, prostrating, and unhorsing almost the
-whole of the force in an instant, while the captain, and the few left
-unhurt endeavoured to escape. Ordering Lieutenant Lewis to follow on in
-pursuit, with strict orders to give no quarter, an order dictated by the
-sanguinary act that they had just witnessed, he placed the dying boy in
-the arms of two of the dragoons, directing them to proceed onwards to the
-camp, and immediately after pushed on to the support of Lewis, whom he
-soon met returning with the English captain and several of his dragoons,
-prisoners—the officer unhurt, but the men severely cut in the face, neck,
-and shoulders. Reprimanding Lewis on the spot for disobedience of orders,
-he peremptorily charged the British officer with the atrocity that they
-had just witnessed, and ordered him to prepare for instant death. The
-officer urged that he had in vain endeavoured to save the boy, that his
-dragoons were intoxicated, and would not obey his orders, and he begged
-that he might not be sacrificed, stating that in the slaughter of Lt.
-Col. Buford’s command, he had used his greatest exertions, and succeeded
-in saving the lives of many of the Americans. This, in some measure
-mollified Lee, but just then overtaking the speechless and dying boy,
-expiring in the arms of the soldiers, his bright and handsome face,
-changed in the ghastly agony of death, he returned with unrelenting
-sternness to his first decision and informed the Englishman that he
-should execute him in the next vale through which they were to pass, and
-furnishing him with a pencil and paper, desired him to make such note
-as he wished to his friends, which he pledged him his word should be
-sent to the British General. The ill-fated soldier proceeded to write,
-when the British van approaching in sight, the prisoner was sent on
-to Col. Williams in front, who, ignorant of the murder, and of Lee’s
-determination to make an example of him, in his turn, forwarded him on
-to head quarters—thus luckily saving his life. Eighteen of the British
-dragoons fell in the charge, and were buried by Cornwallis as he came
-up, but the American’s had time to do no more than lay the body of the
-poor little bugler in the woods on the side of the road, trusting to
-the charity of the country people to inter it, when they were obliged
-to resume their retreat. It should be borne in mind that Lee’s humane
-disposition could only be excited to such summary vengeance by the
-cruel and unwarrantable murder that they had just witnessed, and by the
-frequent acts of atrocity which had been repeatedly enacted by this same
-corps.
-
-Perhaps the fated destiny which frequently appears to await the
-soldier, hanging over him like a shield while he passes through the
-most desperate danger, until the appointed hour arrives, was never
-more apparent than in the case of Lt. Col. Webster, of the British army
-in this same retreat. When the rear of the American army, composed as
-has been observed principally by the Legion, had passed the Reedy Fork,
-the British van under the command of Webster, endeavoured to ford the
-river and bring them into action, a point which Cornwallis was anxious
-to attain, but which was entirely foreign to the plan of Greene, whose
-object was to wear out his pursuers. Under the cover of a dense fog,
-the British had attained a short distance of the Legion before they
-were discovered. They made their appearance on the opposite bank of the
-river, and after halting a few moments, descended the hill and approached
-the water, but receiving a heavy fire of musketry and rifles, they fell
-back and quickly reascending, were again rallied on the margin of the
-bank. Col. Webster rode up, calling upon the soldiers in a loud voice
-to follow, and rushing down the hill, at their head, amid a galling
-fire poured from the Legion troops, he plunged into the water. In the
-woods occupied by the riflemen, was an old log schoolhouse, a little
-to the right of the ford. The mud stuffed between the logs had mostly
-fallen out, and the apertures admitted the use of rifles with ease.
-In this house Lee had posted five and twenty select marksmen from the
-mountain militia, with orders to forego engaging in the general action,
-and directions to hold themselves in reserve for any particular object
-which might present. “The attention of this party being attracted by
-Webster, as he plunged into the water, they singled him out as their
-mark. The stream being deep, and the bottom rugged, he advanced slowly,
-the soldiers, some of them, holding on by his stirrup-leathers,—and one
-by one they discharged their rifles at him, each man sure of knocking
-him over, and, having re-loaded, eight or nine of them, emptied their
-guns at him a second time, yet strange to relate, neither horse nor rider
-received a single ball. The twenty-five marksmen were celebrated for
-their superior skill, and it was a common amusement for them to place an
-apple on the end of a ramrod and hold it out at arm’s length, as a mark
-for their comrades to fire at, when many balls would pass through the
-apple, yet the British officer, mounted on a stout horse, slowly moving
-through a deep water course, was singled out and fired at thirty-two or
-three times successively, and yet remained untouched, and succeeded in
-effecting a lodgment on the bank, where he formed his troops under a
-heavy fire.” This gallant officer, and polished gentleman, the favourite
-of Cornwallis, subsequently fell at the battle of Guilford Court-House,
-not more regretted by his brother soldiers, than admired by those of the
-American army.
-
-There is nothing more true, than that in war as in love, much depends
-upon accident, and an alarm is frequently conveyed and a victory won, by
-circumstances entirely the act of chance. As a case in point. In the
-retreat of the British after the battle of Monks’ Corner, Lt. Col. Stuart
-ordered all the arms belonging to the dead and wounded to be collected,
-and when the retreating enemy had marched on, they were set fire to
-by the rear guard. As many of the muskets were loaded, an irregular
-discharge followed, resembling the desultory fire which usually precedes
-a battle. The retreating army immediately supposed, that Greene was up
-and had commenced an attack on their rear—and the dismay and confusion
-was so great, that the wagoners cut the traces of their horses and
-galloped off, leaving the wagons on the route. The followers of the army
-fled in like manner, and the terror was rapidly increasing, when the
-cessation of the firing quelled the alarm.
-
-But the most exciting incident that our fellow voyager related, and one
-which would well merit the attention of the painter, was the spirited
-affair at Quinby’s Bridge. When the British army in their turn were
-retreating, Sumpter, Marion and Lee frequently were able to act in
-concert. The 19th British Regiment, Lt. Col. Coates, having become
-isolated at Monks’ Corner, Marion and Lee determined to fall upon it, and
-cut it off by surprise before it could obtain relief. The British officer
-having taken the precaution to secure the bridge across the Cooper river
-by a strong detachment, it became necessary for them to make a long
-circuit, through the deep sands in the hottest part of the summer, before
-they could form a junction with Sumpter, whose aid was required in the
-intended attack. The junction was not effected until evening, and the
-attack was necessarily deferred until the following morning; but about
-midnight the whole sky becoming illuminated by a great conflagration,
-it was evident that the enemy had taken the alarm. They had set fire to
-the church to destroy the stores, and had decamped in silence. By the
-neglect of the militia, who had deserted a bridge at which they were
-stationed, the enemy had been able to draw off, and obtain a considerable
-distance in advance, before their retreat was discovered. Lee immediately
-followed on with the cavalry in pursuit of the main body, but was
-unable to come up with it, until he had arrived in the neighbourhood of
-Quinby’s Bridge, about eighteen miles from Monks’ Corner. Upon his first
-approach, he discovered the baggage of the regiment under a rear guard
-of about one hundred men, advancing along a narrow road, the margin of
-which was bordered by a deep swamp on both sides. As soon as the cavalry
-came in view, the British officer formed his men across the road, which
-they had hardly effected, when the charge was sounded, and the Legion
-cavalry rushed upon them with drawn swords at full gallop. The voice of
-the British officer was distinctly heard: “Front rank,—bayonets—second
-rank,—fire!”—and as no discharge immediately followed, the cavalry
-officers felt extreme solicitude, lest its reservation was meant to
-make it the more fatal on their near approach, for on the narrow road,
-and in the close column in which they were rushing on, a well-directed
-fire would have emptied half of their saddles—but happily the soldiers,
-alarmed by the formidable appearance of the cavalry, threw down their
-arms and supplicated for quarter, which the cavalry were most happy to
-grant them. The prisoners being secured, the main body of the cavalry
-pushed on under Armstrong for the bridge, which was still about three
-miles in front, in the hope of cutting off the enemy before they should
-succeed in reaching it. As Armstrong came in sight, he found that Coates
-had passed the bridge, and that he was indolently reposing on the
-opposite side of the river, awaiting his rear guard and baggage. He had,
-by way of precaution, taken up the planks from the bridge, letting them
-lie loosely on the sleepers, intending as soon as the rear should have
-crossed, to destroy it. Seeing the enemy with the bridge thus interposed,
-which he knew was contrary to the commandant’s anticipations, Armstrong
-drew up, and sent back word to Lee, who was still with the prisoners,
-requesting orders, never communicating the fact that the bridge was
-interposed. Lee’s adjutant soon came galloping back with the laconic
-answer:—“The order of the day, sir, is to fall upon the enemy, without
-regard to consequences.”
-
-The gallant Armstrong for a moment leaned forward in his saddle,
-towards the adjutant, as if thunder-struck, with this reflection on his
-courage,—in the next his sword glanced like a streak of light around
-his head, his noble horse leapt with a snort clear of the ground, as
-the spur-rowels were buried to the gaffs in his sides, and in another
-shouting in a voice of thunder—“Legion cavalry, charge!” at the head of
-his section, he cleared the bridge, the horses throwing off the loose
-planks in every direction, the next instant driving the soldiers headlong
-from the howitzer which they had mounted at the other end to defend it,
-he was cutting and slashing in the very centre of the British regiment,
-which, taken completely by surprise, threw down their arms, retreating
-in every direction. The horses of Armstrong’s section had thrown off the
-planks as they cleared the bridge, leaving a yawning chasm, beneath which
-the deep black stream was rushing turbidly onwards; but Lt. Carrington,
-at the head of his section, took the leap and closed with Armstrong,
-engaged in a desperate personal encounter with Lt. Col. Coates, who had
-had barely time to throw himself with a few of his officers behind some
-baggage-wagons, where they were parrying the sabre cuts made by the
-dragoons at their heads. Most of the soldiers, alarmed at the sudden
-attack, had abandoned their officers, and were running across the fields,
-to shelter themselves in a neighbouring farm-house. Lee, by this time,
-had himself got up to the bridge, where O’Neal, with the third section
-had halted, the chasm having been so much enlarged by Carrington’s horses
-throwing off additional planks, that his horses would not take the leap,
-and seeing the howitzer abandoned, and the whole regiment dispersed,
-except the few officers who were defending themselves with their swords,
-while they called upon the flying soldiers for assistance, he proceeded
-to recover and replace the planks. The river was deep in mud, and still
-deeper in water, so that the dragoons could neither get a footing to
-re-place the planks, nor a firm spot from which they might swim their
-horses to the aid of their comrades. Seeing this posture of affairs,
-some of the bravest of the British soldiers began to hurry back to the
-assistance of their officers, and Armstrong and Carrington, being unable
-to sustain with only one troop of dragoons, so unequal a combat, they
-abandoned the contest, forcing their way down the great road, into the
-woods on the margin of the stream, in the effort to rejoin the corps.
-Relieved from the immediate danger, Coates hastened back to the bridge,
-and opened a fire from the deserted howitzer upon Lee and the soldiers,
-who were fruitlessly striving to repair the bridge, and being armed only
-with their sabres, which the chasm made perfectly useless, as they could
-not reach the enemy across it, they were also forced to give up the
-attempt, and retire without the range of the fire from the gun.
-
-Marion shortly after coming up, in conjunction with Lee marched some
-distance down the banks, where they were enabled to ford the stream,
-and effect a passage. In the edge of the evening, they reached the
-farm-house, but found that Coates had fortified himself within it, with
-his howitzer, and was thus impregnable to cavalry. “While halting in
-front, Armstrong and Carrington came up with their shattered sections.
-Neither of the officers were hurt, but many of the bravest dragoons were
-killed, and still more wounded. Some of their finest fellows—men, who
-had passed through the whole war esteemed and admired, had fallen in
-this honourable but unsuccessful attempt.” Being without artillery, and
-within striking distance of Charleston, they were obliged, fatigued as
-they were, to commence their retreat. Placing the wounded in the easiest
-posture for conveyance, and laying the dead on the pommels of their
-saddles, the Legion counter-marched fifteen miles; at its close, burying
-in sadness and grief in one common sepulchre the bodies of those that had
-fallen.
-
-These anecdotes of the Legion are but a few of the many stirring and
-spirited narrations with which Lee whiled away the time, as we glided
-along on our return up the river. His own observations and adventures
-in travelling over the world were not wanting for our amusement, for,
-with a mind well prepared for its enjoyment, he had passed the years
-that had intervened, since I last saw him, in travelling leisurely over
-Europe and the East. With the true philosophy of life, calling all men
-brothers, and restrained by no narrow prejudices of country or habit, he
-had entered eagerly into the manners and participated in the amusements
-of those around him. First after the hounds in England, he shouted “tally
-ho!” with all the enthusiasm of the veriest sportsman in the hunt; while
-his voice was heard equally loud and jovial in the wild and half frantic
-chorus of the drinking and smoking students of Germany. He scrupled not
-to wear his beard long, and partake of the hard black loaf in the cabin
-of the Russian boor, while, with equal equanimity he wore his turban, and
-smoked his chiboque cross-legged in the caffarets of Turkey. He climbed
-the huge pyramids, and their dark and silent chambers echoed the sounds
-of his voice, as he called on Cheops, Isis and Orus; and, kneeling in the
-gorgeous mosque of Omar, he worshipped the true God, while the muzzeim
-from its minarets was proclaiming, that Mahomet was his prophet. He had
-luxuriated amid the never-dying works of the great masters at Florence,
-and, lulled by the harmonious chaunt of the gondolier, had swept over
-the moonlit lagoons of Venice. He had whirled in all the gaiety of
-living Paris, and measured with careful steps the silent streets of dead
-Herculaneum and Pompeii. He had stood amid the awful stillness on the
-glittering ice-covered summits of Mont Blanc, and looked fearlessly
-down into the great roaring caverns of fire boiling in the crater of
-Vesuvius—but now there was a sadness about his heart which rarely lighted
-up, and, as I have observed, it was only under momentary excitement that
-he blazed into brilliant entertainment.
-
-As the fresh breeze wafted us swiftly onwards, Venus, mid the stars
-trembling in unnumbered myriads, rivalled with her silvery rays the great
-round-orbed moon, sailing joyously in her career high in the heavens
-above us,—and soon the bright beacon on the plantation shore, lighted for
-our guidance, shone steadily over the dark water, and ere long we were
-all quietly seated at the supper-table, with our beautiful hostess at its
-head,—again in Tom’s cottage on the banks of the Potomac.
-
-    NOTE.—The incidents related in the above article are derived
-    from “Lee’s Southern Campaigns” and “Col. Gardner’s Military
-    Anecdotes,” where, if he has not already perused them, the
-    reader will find much to interest and amuse him.
-
-
-
-
-HUDSON RIVER.
-
-
-Here we are met again, all booted and spurred, and ready for another
-journey. Come, let us make the most of our time on this mundane sphere,
-for verily we are but two of the automata of the great moving panorama
-which is so rapidly hastening o’er its surface—two of the unnumbered
-millions who, lifted from our cradles, are hurrying with like equal haste
-towards the great dark curtain of the future, where, drawing its gloomy
-folds aside, we shall pass behind and disappear for ever. Therefore
-let us hasten; for though some of us complacently imagine that we are
-bound on our own special road and chosen journey, yet, surely we are but
-travelling the path which has been marked out for us by an all-seeing
-Providence; and though, like soldiers, we may be marching, as we suppose,
-to good billets and snug quarters, yet perhaps, before the day’s route
-be closed, we shall be plunged into the centre of the battle-field, with
-sad curtailment of our history. Tempus fugit! Therefore let us hasten,
-for, in a few short years, some modern Hamlet o’er our tomb-stones thus
-shall moralize: “Here be two fellows tucked up right cosily in their
-last quarters, ‘at their heads a grass-green turf, and at their heels a
-stone.’ Humph! for all their stillness, I warrant me, they’ve strutted
-their mimic stage, and flaunted with the best; they’ve had their ups and
-downs, their whims and fancies, their schemes and projects, their loves
-and hates,—have been elated with vast imaginings, and depressed to the
-very ocean’s depths; and now their little day and generation passed,
-they’re settled to their rest. The school-boy astride on one’s memento,
-with muddy heels kicks out his epitaph, while the other’s name is barely
-visible among the thistle’s aspiring tops,—yet both alike have rendered,
-with the whole human family, the same brief epitome of history. ‘They
-laughed—they groaned—they wept—and here they are,’ for such are but the
-features of bright, confiding youth, stern manhood’s trials, and imbecile
-old age.” And this same sage Hamlet’s right; therefore, without more ado,
-let us get us on our travels.
-
-So, here we are in the Jerseys. Now _westward_ shall lie our
-course. Here come the cars. Quick—jump in—here is a good seat,
-close by the old gentleman in the India-rubber cape. Ding,
-ding—ding, ding. There goes the bell. Shwist, shwist. We are off.
-Clank—jirk—click—click—clickety—click—click. Here we go. We fly over the
-bridges, and through the tunnels; the rail fences spin by us in ribands;
-the mile-stones play leap-frog; the abutments dash by us. Screech! the
-cattle jump like mad out of our way. Already at Jersey City? We paddle
-across. Ay, here we are, just in time, on board the “Swallow.” What a
-pandemonium of racket, and noise, and confusion! Steam yelling, bells
-ringing, boys and negroes bawling, porters and hackmen hurrying.—“Get out
-of my way, you dirty little baboon, with your papers.”—“Thank you, madam,
-no oranges.”—“All aboard.”—Tinkle, tinkle.—The walking-beam rises, the
-heavy wheels splash.—We shoot out into the stream.—We make a graceful
-curve, and, simultaneously with five other steamers, stretch like
-race-horses up the majestic Hudson.
-
-How beautifully the Narrows and the Ocean open to our view, and the
-noble bay, studded with its islands, and fortresses, and men-of-war,
-“tall, high admirals,” with frowning batteries and chequered sides. In
-what graceful amity float the nations’ emblems—the Tricolour, the Red
-Cross, the Black Eagle, the Stars and Stripes. But we take the lead. Fire
-up—fire up, engineer,—her namesake cuts the air not more swiftly than
-our fleet boat her element. Still as a mirror lies the tranquil water.
-The dark pallisades above us, with fringed and picturesque outline, are
-reflected on its polished surface; and the lordly sloops, see how lazily
-they roll and pitch on the long undulating swell made by our progress,
-their scarlet pennons quivering on its surface as it regains its
-smoothness.
-
-How rich and verdant extend thy shores, delightful river! Oh! kindly
-spirit—Crayon, Diedrick, Irving, whate’er we call thee,—with what
-delightful Indian summer of rustic story, of dreamy legend, hast thou
-invested them? Lo! as we slide along, what moving panorama presents
-itself? Phlegmatic Mynheers, in sleepy Elysium, evolve huge smoke-wreaths
-of the fragrant weed as they watch thy placid stream. Blooming Katrinas,
-budding like roses out of their boddices, coquette with adoring
-Ichabods,—sturdy, broad-breeched beaux, sound “boot and saddle.”
-Roaring Broms dash along on old Gun-powders. Headless horsemen thunder
-onwards through Haunted hollows—heads on saddle-bow. Dancing, laughing
-negroes—irate, rubicund trumpeters—huge Dutch merry-makings—groaning
-feasts, and loafing, hen-pecked Rips, pass in review before us. And now,
-as we open the Tappan Zee, see! see Old Hendrick,—see the old fellow in
-his scarlet cloak, his gallant hanger, cocked-hat, and many-buttoned
-breeches—see how the huge clouds of smoke, encircling his nose, float
-upwards, as, seated on his lofty poop, he sluggishly lays his course.
-See the old Dutchman—no—stop! stop!—’tis but a creature of thy fantasy,
-floating in the setting sunlight. Oh! historian of Columbus, with thy
-fellow-spirit, him of the “North Star,” and the “Evening Wind,” gently,
-yet sorrowfully you float above the miasma clouds of gain, that in their
-poisonous wreaths envelope your countrymen. In the evening twilight thy
-beacon, Stony Point, throws far its streaming rays o’er the darkening
-scenery, different, I ween, when mid midnight mist and stillness, mid
-cannon-blaze and roar, “Mad Anthony’s” attacking columns simultaneously
-struck the flag-staff in thy centre. The sparks stream rocket-like from
-our chimneys, as we enter your dark embrace, ye Highlands! Hark! the roll
-of the drum, as we round the bend—thy beautiful plateau, West Point, with
-its gallant spirits, is above us. Success to thee, school of the brave!
-Engineers for her hours of peace, soldiers in war to lead her armies,
-dost thou furnish to thy country—brave, enduring men. When fell thy sons
-other than in the battle’s front? when in the fiercest danger were they
-found recreant? Aye, well may Echo answer “When?”
-
-The thunder of thy bowling balls, Old Hudson, we hear as we pass the
-gorges of the Catskill. Hyde Park, thou glancest by us—the villas of the
-Rensselaers and Livingstons flit ’mid their green trees,—thy cottages,
-oh Kinderhook—the Overslaugh—rush by us, and now we are at Albany.
-Albany, Rochester, Utica, by smoaking steam-car, we are delivered from
-you. Auburn, we breathe among thy shady walks—and now, for a moment,
-Buffalo, we rest with thee. All hail to thee, thou city of the Bison
-Bull! Great caravansera and resting-place of coming nations! Byzantium
-of the future—hail! As on a quay shall meet hereafter, through the
-Lawrence and the Oregon, the hardy seamen of the Atlantic and Pacific,
-the Otaheitean and the fair-haired Swede; while the bronzed trapper, the
-savage Blackfoot, the greasy Esquimaux, and half-civilized voyageur,
-shall mingle with astonishment and admiration on thy busy marts. Hail!
-hail! to thee, thou city of the desert lord, all hail!
-
-
-
-
-NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE.
-
-(August 14th, 1814.)
-
-
-Hostler! bring up the horses, we will cross to the Canadian shore, and
-ride leisurely o’er its battlegrounds. Tighten the girths, John. Take up
-another hole. So—never mind the stirrup. Jump—I’m in my saddle. Are you
-ready?—_Allons._ Well broken is that grey of yours, he has a good long
-trot—how easy it makes your rise in the saddle, and how graceful is the
-gait. But here we are at the Ferry. Now, we cross thy stream, Niagara!
-Now, we stand on British ground! Generous and gallant blood has deeply
-stained its soil! Observe these crumbling works—the old stone fort facing
-the river—the remains of ramparts and trenches—here a bastion—further on,
-a redoubt—there again lines and earthworks, forming a continuous circle
-of defence, but all now fast sinking to their original level. These are,
-or rather were, the fortress and defences of “Fort Erie.” When some
-years since I rode over the ground with our kind and excellent friend,
-the Major, I listened with great interest to his narration of the part
-of the campaign acted upon this spot and the adjoining country. I will
-repeat it to you as we ride over it. Jump your horse upon this decaying
-mound—it was a bastion.
-
-Standing on this bastion, “Here,” said the Major, “we had thrown up our
-lines, making the defences as strong as practicable. The British had
-also erected formidable works about half a mile in front, (the forest
-intervening,) composed of a large stone battery on their left, and two
-strong redoubts, from which they kept up an incessant discharge of shot
-and shells for several successive days, which was returned by us with
-equal vigour. At length a shell from their batteries having fallen upon
-it, blew up one of our small magazines, but with trifling injury to the
-rest of the defences. They greatly miscalculated the damage, and were
-elated with their success, and General Gaines received secret information
-that they intended to carry the works by storm on the following night.
-That night, said the Major, I shall not soon forget. It set in intensely
-dark and cloudy, extremely favourable to the design of the enemy. Every
-thing was put in the fullest state of preparation to receive them. The
-men enthusiastically awaiting the attack, were ordered to lie on their
-arms. Extended along the lines, and manning the fort and bastion, our
-little army, in perfect silence, awaited their coming.
-
-The forest had been cleared about three hundred yards in front of
-our works—beyond that were, as you see, the woods. As the night
-wore on, we listened with earnestness to every sound. A little
-after midnight, we heard on the dry leaves the stealthy sound of
-footsteps—pat—patter—patter. We listened—they came nearer. A short,
-sharp challenge: “Who goes there?” issued from that farther redoubt. The
-footsteps ceased, as if irresolute to advance or recede, and all was
-still. Another quick challenge—a rattle of the musket, as it fell into
-the hollow of the hand,—followed the reply:—“Picquet guard, forced in
-by the enemy’s advance”—“Back, guard! back to your posts instantly, or
-we will fire upon you,” rung the stern voice of our commanding officer.
-The footsteps of the stragglers slowly receded, and entire stillness
-again obtained. It was as profound as the darkness, not even the hum
-of an insect rose upon the ear. We laid our heads upon the ramparts,
-and listened with all our faculties. We listened. Perhaps half an hour
-elapsed, when we imagined we heard the dead, heavy sound of a large
-body of men—tramp—tramp—tramp—advancing through the pitchy darkness. A
-few moments passed—a brisk scattering fire, and the picquets came in
-in beautiful order, under the brave subaltern in command. The measured
-tread of disciplined troops became apparent. Every sense was stretched
-to the utmost in expectancy—every eye endeavoured to fathom the darkness
-in front, when, from Towson’s battery, that towards the river, glanced
-a volley of musquetry, and in another instant, the whole line of the
-works, bastion, redoubt, and rampart, streamed forth one living sheet
-of flame. Two eighteens, mounted where we stand, were filled to the
-muzzle with grape, cannister, and bags of musket-bullets—imagine their
-havoc. The enemy came on with loud shouts and undaunted bravery. By the
-continued glare of our discharges, we could see dense dark masses of men,
-moving in columns to three separate points of attack upon our works.
-Our artillery and musketry poured on them as they advanced a continual
-stream of fire, rolling and glancing from angles, bastions, and redoubts.
-Repulsed—they were re-formed by their officers, and brought again to the
-charge, to be again repulsed. At such times, hours fly like minutes. A
-life appears concentrated to a moment. We had been engaged perhaps an
-hour—perhaps three, when I heard in that bastion of the Fort, a hundred
-feet from me, above the uproar, a quick, furious struggle, as if of men
-engaged in fierce death-fight; a clashing of bayonets, and sharp pistol
-shots, mixed with heavy blows, and short quick breathing, such as you may
-have heard men make in violent exertion—in cutting wood with axes, or
-other severe manual labour. The conflict, though fierce, was short—the
-assailants were repelled. Those that gained a footing were bayonetted, or
-thrown back over the parapet. In a few moments, I heard again the same
-fierce struggle, and again followed the like result and stillness—if
-stillness could be said to exist under continual roar of musketry and
-artillery. A third time it rose, sudden and desperate; it ceased, and
-presently a clear loud voice rose high above the battle from the bastion:
-“Stop firing in front there, you are firing on your friends.” An instant
-cessation followed. We were deceived. In another moment, the voice of
-an officer with startling energy replied: “Aye, aye, we’ll stop: give
-it them, men, give it them!”—and the firing, renewed, was continued
-with redoubled fury. The head of the centre column, composed of eight
-hundred picked men, the veterans of Egypt, led by Lieut. Col. Drummond
-in person, after three several assaults, had gained possession of the
-bastion, and by that ruse, endeavoured to cause a cessation of the fire—a
-result that might have been fatal to us, had not the deception been so
-soon discerned. But the prize was of little value, as the bastion was
-commanded by the interior of the works, and the men, under cover of the
-walls of an adjoining barrack, poured into the gorge that led from it,
-a continued storm of musketry. The firing continued with unabated fury.
-The enemy, repulsed with great loss in every attack, was unsuccessful
-on every point save that bastion, the possession of which they still
-retained—when I heard a groaning roll and shake of the earth, and
-instantly the bastion, bodies of men, timber, guns, earth and stones,
-were blown up in the air like a volcano, making every thing in the glare
-as clear as noon-day. A descending timber dashed one of my artillerymen
-to pieces within a foot of my shoulder. Profound darkness and silence
-followed. Naught but the groans of the wounded and dying were heard.
-As if by mutual consent, the fighting ceased, and the enemy withdrew,
-repulsed on every side, save from the parapet which they purchased for
-their grave. A large quantity of fixed ammunition had been placed in
-the lower part, and a stray wad falling upon it, had blown them all up
-together. My duty required that I should immediately repair the bastion,
-and most horrible was the sight—bodies burnt and mutilated—some of them
-still pulsating with life, among them Lieut. Colonel Drummond, the leader
-of the attack. There he lay in the morning light, stark and stiff,
-extended on the rampart, a ball having passed through his breast. History
-mourns, that his courage assumed the character of ferocity. His war-cry
-of “No quarter to the damned Yankees,” his own death-warrant, was long
-remembered against his countrymen. The enemy did not resume the attack,
-but retiring to their entrenched camp, strengthened their works, and
-prepared to make their approach by regular advances.
-
-But come, spur on, we have far to ride—spur on. Here we are upon their
-works. Here is the stone water-battery, and there the two strong
-redoubts, and back of them the remains of their lines, and deep
-entrenchments. These are the works which were carried in the memorable
-and desperate sortie of Fort Erie. The right by Davis and Miller; the
-left by Porter and his volunteers. Here, on the left, quoth the Major,
-fell my gallant, my accomplished friend, Lieut. Col. Wood, at the head of
-his column. He was one of the most brilliant officers in the service, and
-as beautiful as a girl. I often gazed with astonishment at the desperate
-daring that characterised him in action; here he fell; he was bayonetted
-to death on the ground, on this spot“—and the Major’s voice quivered,
-and he turned his face from me, for the cruel death of his dear friend
-was too much for his manhood. His ashes sleep amid the Highlands of the
-Hudson, beneath their monument, near the flag-staff at West Point. Peace
-to his gallant spirit! The stars of his country can wave over no braver
-of her sons.
-
-
-
-
-BATTLE OF LUNDY’S LANE.
-
-
-We cross thy tranquil plains, Oh! Chippewa.
-Scott—Ripley—Towson—Hindman—brave soldiers; long will this battle-ground
-your names remember. And thou too, Riall! brave Englishman, foeman wert
-thou worthy of warriors’ steel. But far different music has resounded
-through these continuous woods than the wild bird’s carol, the hum of
-insects, and the waving of the breeze that now so gently greets our
-ear. Ay! yonder it is—yonder is the white house. There, said the Major,
-as General Scott, making a forward movement with his brigade in the
-afternoon of the 25th of July, 1814, came in view of it, we saw the
-court-yard filled with British officers, their horses held by orderlies
-and servants in attendance. As soon as we became visible to them,
-their bugles sounded to saddle, and in a few moments they were mounted
-and soon disappeared through the woods at full gallop, twenty bugles
-ringing the alarm from different parts of the forest. All vanished as
-if swallowed by the earth, save an elegant veteran officer, who reined
-up just out of musket shot, and took a leisurely survey of our numbers.
-Having apparently satisfied himself of our force, he raised the plumed
-hat from his head, and bowing gracefully to our cortege, put spurs to
-his horse and disappeared with the rest. From the occupant of the house
-we gathered that we were about a mile distant from a strong body of the
-enemy, posted in the rising ground just beyond the woods in our front.
-General Scott, turning to one of his escort, said, “Be kind enough, sir,
-to return to Major General Brown; inform him that I have fallen in with
-the enemy’s advance, posted in force at ‘_Lundy’s Lane_,’ and that in one
-half hour, I shall have joined battle.” “Order up Ripley with the second
-brigade,—direct Porter to get his volunteers immediately under arms,”
-was the brief reply of Major General Brown to my message, and the aids
-were instantly in their saddles, conveying the orders. As I galloped back
-through the woods, continued the Major, the cannon shot screaming by me,
-tearing the trees and sending the rail fences in the air in their course,
-warned me that the contest had begun.—But we are on the battle-ground.
-There, said the Major, upon the verge of that sloping hill, parallel with
-the road, and through the grave-yard towards the Niagara, was drawn up
-the British line under General Riall, in force three times greater than
-our brigade—his right covered with a powerful battery of nine pieces of
-artillery, two of them brass twenty-fours.
-
-The _Eleventh_ and _Twenty-second_ regiments first leaving the wood,
-deployed upon the open ground with the coolness and regularity of a
-review,—and were soon engaged furiously in action; the fire from the
-enemy’s line and from the batteries, which completely commanded the
-position, opening upon them with tremendous effect. Towson, having
-hurried up with his guns on the left, in vain endeavoured to attain
-sufficient elevation to return the fire of their battery. The destruction
-on our side was very great;—the two regiments fought with consummate
-bravery. They were severely cut up, their ammunition became exhausted,
-and their officers nearly all of them having been killed and wounded,
-they were withdrawn from action,—the few officers remaining unhurt
-throwing themselves into the _Ninth_, which now came into action, led by
-the gallant Colonel Leavenworth.
-
-The brunt of the battle now came upon them, and they alone sustained it
-for some time, fighting with unflinching bravery, until their numbers
-were reduced to one-half by the fire of the enemy. At this juncture,
-General Scott galloped up with the intention of charging up the hill;
-but finding them so much weakened, altered his intention, entreating
-them to hold their ground until the reinforcements, which were hastening
-up, should come to their assistance. A momentary cessation of the
-action ensued, while additional forces hurried up to the aid of each
-army—Ripley’s brigade, Hindman’s artillery, and Porter’s volunteers,
-on the part of the Americans, and a strong reinforcement under General
-Drummond on that of the British. Hindman’s artillery were attached
-to that of Towson, and soon made themselves heard. Porter’s brigade
-displayed on the left, while Ripley formed on the skirts of the wood
-to the right of Scott’s brigade. The engagement was soon renewed, with
-augmented vigour; General Drummond taking command in person, with his
-fresh troops in the front line of the enemy. Colonel Jesup, who had at
-the commencement of the action been posted on the right, succeeded, after
-a gallant contest, in turning the left flank of the enemy, and came in
-upon his reserve, “burdened with prisoners, making himself visible to his
-own army, amid the darkness, in a blaze of fire,” completely destroying
-all before him. The fight raged for some time with great fury, but it
-became apparent, uselessly to the Americans, if the enemy retained
-possession of the battery, manifestly the key of the position.
-
-I was standing at the side of Colonel Miller, said the Major, when
-General Brown rode up and inquired, whether he could storm the battery
-with his regiment, while General Ripley supported him with the younger
-regiment, the _Twenty-third_. Miller, amid the uproar and confusion,
-deliberately surveyed the position, then quietly turning with infinite
-coolness replied, “_I’ll try, sir._” I think I see him now, said the
-Major, as drawing up his gigantic figure to its full height, he turned to
-his regiment, drilled to the precision of a piece of mechanism, I hear
-his deep lion tones—“_Twenty-first_—attention!—form into column. You
-will advance up the hill to the storm of the battery—at the word ‘halt,’
-you will deliver your fire at the port-lights of the artillerymen,
-and immediately carry the guns at the point of the bayonet.—Support
-arms—double quick—march!” Machinery could not have moved with more
-compactness than that gallant regiment followed the fearless stride
-of its leader. Supported by the _Twenty-third_, the dark mass moved
-up the hill like one body,—the lurid light glittering and flickering
-on their bayonets, as the combined fire of the enemy’s artillery and
-infantry opened murderously upon them. They flinched not—they faltered
-not—the stern deep voices of the officers, as the deadly cannon-shot
-cut yawning chasms through them, alone was heard. “Close up—steady,
-men—steady.” Within a hundred yards of the summit, the loud “Halt”
-was followed by a volley—sharp, instantaneous, as a clap of thunder.
-Another moment, rushing under the white smoke, a short furious struggle
-with the bayonet, and the artillerymen were swept like chaff from their
-guns. Another fierce struggle—the enemy’s line was forced down the side
-of the hill, and the victory was ours—the position entirely in our
-hands—their own pieces turned and playing upon them in their retreat.
-It was bought at cruel price—most of the officers being either killed
-or wounded. The whole tide of the battle now turned to this point.
-The result of the conflict depended entirely upon the ability of the
-victorious party to retain it. Major Hindman was ordered up, and posted
-his forces at the side of the captured cannon, while the American line
-correspondingly advanced. Stung with mortification, the brave General
-Drummond concentrated his forces, to retake by a desperate charge the
-position. The interval amid the darkness was alone filled by the roar of
-the cataracts, and the groans of the wounded. He advanced with strong
-reinforcements, outflanking each side of the American line. We were
-only able, in the murky darkness, to ascertain their approach by their
-heavy tread. “They halted within twenty paces—poured in a rapid fire and
-prepared for the rush.” Directed by the blaze, our men returned it with
-deadly effect, and after a desperate struggle, the dense column recoiled.
-Another interval of darkness and silence, and again a most furious and
-desperate charge was made by the British, throwing the whole weight of
-their attack upon the American centre. The gallant _Twenty-first_, which
-composed it, receiving them with undaunted firmness—while the fire from
-our lines was “dreadfully effective,” Hindman’s artillery served with
-the most perfect coolness and effect. Staggering, they again recoiled.
-During this second attack, General Scott in person, his shattered brigade
-now consolidated into a single battalion, made two determined charges
-upon the right and left flank of the enemy, and in these he received the
-scars which his countrymen now see upon his manly front. Our men were
-now almost worn down with fatigue, dying with thirst, for which they
-could gain no relief. The British, with fresh reinforcements—their men
-recruited and rested—after the interval of another hour, made their third
-and final effort to regain the position. They advanced—delivered their
-fire as before—and although it was returned with the same deadly effect,
-they steadily pressed forward. The _Twenty-first_ again sustained the
-shock, and both lines were soon engaged in a “conflict, obstinate and
-dreadful beyond description.” The right and left of the American line
-fell back for a moment, but were immediately rallied by their officers.
-“So desperate did the battle now become, that many battalions on both
-sides were forced back,” the men engaged in indiscriminate melée, fought
-hand to hand, and with muskets clubbed; and “so terrific was the conflict
-where the cannon were stationed, that Major Hindman had to engage them
-over his guns and gun-carriages, and finally to spike two of his pieces,
-under the apprehension that they would fall into the hands of the enemy.”
-General Ripley at length made a most desperate and determined charge upon
-both of the enemy’s flanks—they wavered—recoiled—gave way—and the centre
-soon following, they relinquished the fight and made a final retreat.
-The annals of warfare on this continent have never shown more desperate
-fighting. Bayonets were repeatedly crossed, and after the action, many
-of the men were found mutually transfixed. The British force engaged
-was about five thousand men;—the American thirty-five hundred: the
-combined loss in killed and wounded, seventeen hundred and twenty-two,
-officers and men. The battle commenced at half-past four o’clock in the
-afternoon, and did not terminate till midnight. We were so mingled, said
-the Major, and so great the confusion in the darkness, that as I was
-sitting with a group of officers in the earlier part of the night, on
-horseback, a British soldier came up to us, and recovering his musket,
-under the supposition that he was addressing one of his own officers,
-said, “Colonel Gordon will be much obliged, sir, if you will march up
-the three hundred men in the road to his assistance immediately, as he
-is very hard pressed.” I called him nearer, and pressing his musket down
-over my holsters, made him prisoner. “What have I done, sir,” said the
-astonished man, “what have I done?” and to convince British officers, as
-he supposed, of his loyalty, exclaimed, “Hurrah for the King, and damn
-the Yankees.” As he was marched to the rear, the poor fellow was cut down
-by a grape shot. In another part of the field, an American aid pulled
-up suddenly on a body of men under full march. In reply to his demand,
-“What regiment is that?” he was answered, “The Royal Scots.” With great
-presence of mind, he replied, “Halt! Royal Scots’, till further orders,”
-and then turning his horse’s head, galloped from their dangerous
-proximity. It was a horrid conflict. Humanity sighs over the slaughter of
-the brave men that fell in it.
-
-But here we are, at the grave-yard, with its drooping willows and
-flowering locusts. Still—still—and quiet now. No armed men disturb
-its calmness and repose—no ponderous artillery wheels rudely cut
-its consecrated mounds—no ruffian jest—no savage execration—no moan
-of anguish, break now upon its hallowed silence. The long grass and
-blossoming heather waive green alike over the graves of friend and enemy.
-The marble tells the story of the few—the many, their very parents know
-not their resting place. See this broken wooden slab—it has rotted off
-even with the ground, and lies face downwards, the earthworm burrowing
-under it, in this neglected corner. Pull the grass aside; turn it over
-with your foot. What, the nearly effaced inscription?
-
-                                 “Sacred
-                             TO THE MEMORY OF
-                             CAPT’N —— BROWN,
-                                  OF THE
-                              21st Regiment
-                  WHO DIED OF WOUNDS RECEIVED IN ACTION,
-                          WITH THE ENEMY, ON THE
-                           25TH OF JULY, 1814.”
-
-And this is honour! This is fame! Why, brave man! e’en now, I read
-the tribute to thy bravery in the bulletin of the action. Thou had’st
-comrades—father, mother, sisters—to mourn thy loss—and _now_, the
-stranger’s foot carelessly spurns thy frail memento; nor father, mother,
-sisters, nor human hand can point to the spot where rest thy ashes. Peace
-to thy manes! brave countrymen, where’er they sleep.
-
-See from this point how gently and gracefully undulates the battle-field;
-the woods bowing to the evening breeze, as the soft sunlight pours
-through their branches show not the gashes of rude cannon shot—the
-plain, loaded and bending with the yellow harvest, betrays no human
-gore—yon hill scathed, scorched and blackened with cannon flame, the very
-resting place of the deadly battery, shows no relic of the fierce death
-struggle, as covered with the fragrant clover and wild blue-bell, the bee
-in monotonous hum banquets o’er it. Nought mars the serenity of nature
-as she smiles upon us. Yet, burnt in common funeral pyre, the ashes of
-those brave men, of friend and foe, there mingle in the bosom whence they
-issued. The frenzied passion passed, the furious conflict o’er, they
-have lain down in quiet, and like young children, sleep gently, sweetly,
-in the lap of that common mother who shelters with like protection the
-little field mouse from its gambols, and the turbaned Sultan sinking amid
-his prostrate millions. Shades of my gallant countrymen! Shades of their
-daring foes—farewell. Ne’er had warriors more glorious death-couch,—the
-eternal Cataracts roar your requiem.
-
-    The reader’s attention is requested to the more detailed
-    account of this action in the Appendix. The inscription on the
-    tablet is given from recollection, and it is possible that the
-    number of the Regiment may not be the one to which this officer
-    belonged.
-
-
-
-
-LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA.
-
-
-The Sun of Morning hurls himself in blazing splendour o’er thy crystal
-waters, beautiful Horicon, as we float upon thy placid bosom, not
-as of yore, in feathery canoe, but in gaily-coloured bark, drawn by
-Steam Spirit, as he vainly strives to break his fiery prison. See, how
-he puffs and pants in the fierce embrace of the glowing element; in
-furious efforts dragging us onward with frantic swiftness, e’en as the
-frightened steed, the vehicle wildly bounding after him. As the valve
-of safety opens, hear the shriek of mad delight, with which exultingly
-he proclaims his freedom;—now, the iron portal closed, how like Sampson
-in the Prison Mill, struggling, giant-like, he again applies him to his
-toil. Imprisoned Spirit! there is no help for thee. Sweat thou must, and
-pant, and groan, till, like thy fellow-labourer, man, released from fire
-fetter, as he of earth, resolved to pure ether, thou shalt float again
-free and delighted in the clear elements above!
-
-Ho! brother spirit, tarry, tarry—wait thou a little ’till I join
-thee,—then, how gallantly we’ll ride! Couched on summer clouds, lazily
-we’ll float: or, glancing on sun rays, shoot swift as thought, ’mid the
-bright worlds rolling in sublimity above us. We’ll bathe in the Moon’s
-cold splendour, fan in the sultry heat of crimson Mars, slide upon
-Saturn’s eternal snows, or joyously gambolling along the Milky Way, we’ll
-chase the starry Serpent to his den. Ho! brother spirit;—but, we must
-bide our time—madly now in wild career, thou sweep’st the placid lake
-from under us.
-
-But whom have we here? A sturdy hunter in homespun clad, with his long
-rifle—his broad-chested hounds in quiet, sleeping at his feet; our
-fellow-passenger, ’till landed on some mountain side, he follows his
-sylvan war. Clear animal health and vigour shine from each lineament—with
-what open, unsuspicious manhood—what boundless freedom he comports
-himself. Ha! what is it, hound? What is it? Why dost shake thy pendant
-ears and gaze so keenly in the distance—and why that plaintive howl? Ay,
-ay, hunter, thy practised eye hath caught it. On yon wooded island to the
-windward—a noble buck with graceful form and branching antlers. He sees
-us not, but the dog’s quick senses have caught his scent upon the passing
-wind. Still, boy, still! Pilot, put her a little more under the island.
-Hunter, lend me thy rifle—launch the canoe. Come, hunter—peace—peace—keep
-the dogs on board; paddle for yonder point—now we shoot upon the pebbly
-beach—now make her fast to this dead log. We’ll steal gently through
-the woods and come upon him unawares. Softly—press those vines away;
-whist—avoid the rustling of the branches; here, creep through these
-bushes—tread lightly on the fallen leaves—you’ll mire upon that swampy
-bottom. Hush—hush—tread softly—that crackling branch! He lifts his
-head—he looks uneasily about him—stand quiet. Now he browses again; get
-a little nearer—we are within distance. I’ll try him—click. Back go the
-antlers—the cocking of the rifle has alarmed him—he’s off! Here goes, hit
-or miss—crack—he jumps ten feet in the air. I’ve missed him—he bounds
-onward—no—yes—by Jove! he’s down—he’s up again—he plunges forward—he
-falls again—he rises—falls—he struggles to his knees—he——falls. Hurrah!
-he’s ours—quick—quick—thy _couteau de chasse_, we’ll make sure of him.
-Stop—stop. Poor deer! and _I_ have murdered thee, for my _sport_ have
-murdered thee—have taken from thee the precious boon of life—with cruelty
-have broken the silver chord, which the beggar’s blunt knife can sever,
-but not the jewelled fingers of the monarch again rejoin. There—there,
-thou liest, true to the Great Master’s picture—
-
-    “The big round tears course down thy innocent nose in piteous chase,
-    And thy smooth leathern sides pant almost to bursting.”
-
-Thy life blood flows apace—e’en now thy large soft eye dims in the sleep
-of death—and _I_ have slain thee. Thou had’st nought other enemy than the
-gaunt coward wolf, or fanged serpent; him, with light leaping bounds,
-thou laugh’st to scorn, as his long howl struck on thy quick ear; and the
-sullen rattler, with many blows of thy tiny polished hoof thou dash’st
-to pieces, ere from his deadly coil, his flattened head, with glistening
-tongue and protruded fangs, could reach thee. Oh! I shame me of my
-miscreant fellowship. E’en the poisonous serpent, with quick vibrating
-tail, did give thee warning—_I_ stole upon thee unawares. Hunter! take
-again thy weapon; for thee—’tis thy vocation—perhaps ’tis well—the game
-is thine. I entreat of thee, let not my innocent victim again reproach
-my eyesight. So! here is the canoe—we again embark—we rock against the
-steamer’s side—and now again rush onward in our swift career. Islands
-glide by us in countless numbers. The frightened trout scales in quick
-alarm from the splashing waterwheels, while echo, mocking their watery
-clamour, wakes the old mountains from their sleepy stillness, who again,
-like drowsy giants, relapse into repose as we leave them far behind us.
-
-_Ticonderoga_, we approach thy shore. Ay—true to appointment—here are
-the horses. Mount—on we go, over hillock and valley, through brake,
-through brier, through mud, through water, through swamp, through mire;
-we gallop over the broad green peninsula—leap the entrenchments—thread
-the lines. Here is the citadel—descend the moat; the wild dank weeds
-and furze o’ertop our heads. Ay—here’s a chasm—a breach in the ancient
-walls; spur up—spur up; now we draw rein within the very centre of
-the blackened ruins. How lovely the view, from the soft undulating
-promontory—the lake bathing its sides; Horicon’s mountains o’erlooking
-it on this—the stalwart yeomen of the verdant State, free as the winds,
-on that! Oh! Ticonderoga, midst these uncultivated wilds—these silent
-mountains—various and eventful hath been thy history.
-
-Ho! Old Time—how calmly strok’st thou thy long greybeard, as seated on
-the broken ruins, thou ponderest their past! Come! come, old father!
-ascend this crumbling battlement—lean on my shoulder—I, _as yet_, am
-straightest—I will hold thy scythe. Now point to me the drama which past
-generations have acted upon this green peninsula.
-
-What do I see? I see the savage life—the light canoe floating on the blue
-lake—painted warriors spearing the salmon, chasing the deer upon the
-plain, dragging the surly bear in triumph,—I see the swift paddle chase—I
-hear the laugh of children—the voice of patient squaws—the distant
-yell as rounding the point, the returning braves bemoan the dead left
-on the war-path, and as the shades of evening close, the sun in golden
-radiance retiring o’er the mountains, I see them congregate in wigwams
-in the cove.—The blue smoke rises gently o’er the tree tops, and all is
-still—quiet and serenity obtain—the whip-poor-will, and cricket, amid the
-drowsy hum of insect life, keep melancholy cadence.
-
-“Stranger! venture not near them—the peace is treacherous. No civilized
-challenge shall give thee warning, but the cruel war-shriek wildly ring
-o’er the insensate brain as the light tomahawk trembles in thy cloven
-skull.”
-
-Wild mist rolls onward—I hear sounds of distant music—the mellow horn—the
-clashing cymbals break from its midst. Ah! it rises. A gallant army, in
-proud array, with flags and banners—bright glittering arms, and ponderous
-artillery. With alacrity they effect their landing. They fraternise with
-the red-skinned warriors. Their military lines run round like magic. I
-feel, e’en where we stand, huge walls, grim towers rise, and bastions
-springing up around us—the spotless drapeau blanc, high o’er our heads,
-floats in the breeze—wild chansons of love, of war, of la belle France,
-mix with mirth and revelry.
-
-“Stranger, ’tis the quick ‘_Qui Vive_’ that doth arrest thy footstep.”
-
-Ay—now, Old Time, the mystic curtain again rolls upwards. What do I
-see?—Red-coated soldiers advancing in proud battalia through the forest
-glades, the sunbeams dancing on their bayonets. I hear the sound of
-bugles—the clamorous roll of drums, the groaning jar and creak of
-heavy-wheeled artillery. Spread along the lines, covered with sharp
-abattis and water moat, I see the impatient Gaul, with savage ally in
-ambushment, await their coming—they advance with desperate valour,—they
-ford the ditch, they hew the sharpened trees with axes. In vain—the
-balls like hail, from unseen foes murderously destroy them—their leader
-falls—hark! the bugle with melancholy wail sounds their retreat.
-
-Again, Old Time, an interval—again red-coated soldiers! again groaning
-artillery! Look up!—the drapeau blanc has vanished—the meteor flag
-streams proudly from the flag-staff.
-
-“Stranger, ’tis the Anglo-Saxon’s rough challenge that gruffly breaks
-upon thy ear.”
-
-Long peace and silence—Old Father, now obtain—the sentry sleeps upon his
-post—women and children play upon the ramparts—but, hark! what is it
-far in the distance that I hear! the sound of battle! the fusilade of
-musketry—the roar of cannon! I see Bunker’s Hill from light barricade
-sweep down her thousands—I see hurrying forward the hardy husbandman with
-hastily caught musket—the robed divine—the youth—the old man—cheered on
-by mothers—sisters—tender wives,—to strike
-
-    “For their altars and their fires,
-    God, and their native homes.”
-
-I see new Nation’s symbol—Stars and Stripes—and watch, now in the
-midnight darkness through the fortress moat—how advance that fearless
-band of men—Lo! in silence they penetrate the fortress’ centre. Hark!
-what voice rouses the astonished officer, as starting from his slumbers,
-he meets, close at his throat, the bayonet’s threatening point.
-“Surrender!” “To whom?” “The Great Jehovah, and the Continental Congress!”
-
-Now floats the spangled banner proudly o’er the citadel—patriotic men
-assemble—armies make temporary resting place—invalid soldiers breathe the
-health-restoring air, and age wears on. Ha!—was that a meteor flashing
-from Defiance Mountain summit? And there, another?—Plunge! plunge! Cannon
-shot! screaming, yelling, bounding i’ th’ very centre of the fortress.
-
-“’Tis the Englishman with his artillery.”
-
-Quick, quick!—St. Clair, withdraw the army—the position is no longer
-tenable. Strike not that flag!—palsied be the hand that so degrades
-the flag of Freedom—let it shake defiance to the last! Quick, the
-magazine—the train—Ha, hah! Ætna, Vesuvius like, the explosion.
-
-Hallo! Old Time!—Ho! thou of the scythe!—What! hast gone? Am I!—ay, I am
-alone! Nought but the blackened ruins, and the crumbling ramparts, in
-silence surrounding me.
-
-
-
-
-MONTREAL.
-
-
-Now, in steam palace, we shoot in swift career o’er thy tranquil surface,
-Lake Champlain—thy rolling mountains, in wavy outline, accompanying us in
-our rapid progress. Vast primeval forests sleep in stillness along thy
-borders—their sylvan patriarchs, reigning for centuries, untouched by
-woodman’s axe, stretch proudly their far-reaching branches, ’till ancient
-Time, pointing with extended finger the wild spirit of the winds breathes
-on them as he passes, and they succumb with sullen uproar, long with mock
-semblance retaining form and length, as if deriding the puny offspring
-shooting up around them; bestowing sore fall, I ween, and tumble on
-adventurous hunter, as stumbling through the undergrowth he plunges
-prostrate o’er them.
-
-Forests immense cover the mountains, the gorges, valleys, reigning in
-stern solitude and silence, save where the fierce fire-god, serpent-like,
-pursues his flaming journey. There, followed by wreathing smoke columns,
-forward he leaps, with fiery tongue licking up acres—while the waterpools
-hissing in mist, join in his escort, and the wild game, with frantic
-swiftness, strive to escape the hot destruction of his embraces. With
-steady, noiseless progress, the white villages appear and disappear
-beside us. Rouse’s skeleton Tower looms largely in the distance;—now ’tis
-passed.
-
-Thy military works, and crimson flag, Isle Aux Noix,—town of St. Johns,
-Richelieu, La Prairie,—we pass ye all; and advancing in soft summer
-atmosphere, Chambly, we behold thy mountain ramparts filling the
-far distance. St. Lawrence, majestic river, stretched like sheet of
-polished steel, as far as eye can reach, we stand upon thy level shores.
-Rapid—wide, rushing expanse of waters, with what glorious brightness
-thou look’st upon thy verdant shores, covered with continuous lines of
-snow-white cottages, and listenest to the soft music of the religious
-bells of the kind-hearted, cheerful habitans—as, with rude painted
-cross upon their door posts, they scare away the fiend, and joyously
-intercommune, in honest simple neighbourhood. La Chine—we speed o’er thy
-surface, with race-horse swiftness, and now _Montreal_,—beautiful—most
-beautiful,—couched at the foot of emerald mountain, liest thou upon the
-river’s margin, thy spires, roofs, cupolas, glittering in the sunbeams
-with silver radiance, and thy grand cathedral chimes floating onwards
-till lost in dreamy distance. We land upon thy granite quay—measure
-the extended esplanade—now climb thy narrow streets and alleys. Almost
-we think we tread one of thy antique cities, ancient France,—alleys
-narrow, dark and gloomy courts, grim inhospitable walls,—in place
-of airy casement, gratings and chained iron portals,—military
-barracks,—nunneries,—prisons,—fantastic churches, and Notre Dame’s
-cloud-piercing towers, in huge architectural pile, looming high above
-all. Noisy, chattering habitans, in variegated waist-belts, and
-clattering sabots, rotund dark-robed priests, lank voyageurs—red-coated
-soldiers, and haughty officers,—jostle each other on the narrow
-trottoir—but, mark! the sullen, down-cast Indian, in blanket robed, with
-gaudy feathers and shining ornaments, his patient squaw, straight as an
-arrow, her piercing-eyed papoose clinging to her shoulders, silently
-following him, in noiseless moccasins, moves along the _kennel_. Verily,
-poor forest child, it hath been written, and Moslem-like, thou to thy
-destiny must bow—the fire-water and the Christian will it—fold thee
-closer in thy blanket robe, and—die. See yon Indian girl, standing at
-the corner—with what classic grace the blue fold drapery thrown o’er her
-head, descends her shoulders, as, fawn-like, she stands, avoiding the
-rude passer’s stare.
-
-Hardy ponies, in light calash, dash through the narrow streets, of
-passengers’ safety regardless; or, tugging at great trucks, strive,
-in renewed exertion, to vociferous cries and exclamations of the
-volatile Canadian. How well these Englishmen sit their horses. See that
-gentleman—with what delicate hand he reins the fiery blood that treads
-as if on feathers beneath him—and how picturesque appear, amid the motley
-throng, these red-coated soldiers.
-
-Picturesque! I like them not—they indicate a subjugated people.
-Come! here stands one at the Champ de Mars—how martially he deports
-himself—his exactly poised musket, and his brazen ornaments—how bright!
-Inscribed upon his gorget are the actions which have signalized
-his regiment,—“Badajos”—“Salamanca”—“Vittoria”—“Waterloo.” We will
-address him. Soldier, your regiment was at Salamanca,—“_S-i-r_.” By
-the inscription on your gorget, your regiment distinguished itself at
-Salamanca—“scaled the imminent deadly breach” at “Badajos”—stood the
-Cuirassiers wild charge amid the sulphurous smoke at Waterloo?—“Don’t
-know, indeed, s-i-r.” And is this the gallant soldier! Why, for years,
-under the menace of thy sergeant, thou hast scoured that gorget to
-regulation brightness—for years hast marched under thy regimental colours
-emblazoned with those characters, and still in ignorance, need’st a
-Champoillion to decipher them. ’Tis well. Thou art the machine, indeed,
-that they require.—Verily, thy daily wage of sixpence, and thy ration,
-are full compensation for thy service.
-
-Listen! The masses hurrying forward in the western hemisphere—whether
-to happiness and equality,—or furious license and bloody anarchy—with
-joyous shouts, and cries of freedom, arouse the echo. Dost hear above
-hoarse cries of “bread,” and mob hurrah’s—confused sounds—low muttering
-thunder—the rend and clank of chains that o’er the broad Atlantic roll
-from old Europe? ’Tis the chariot wheels of Liberty, as charging onwards
-she sweeps away rust-covered chains, and feudal bands, like maze of
-cobwebs, from her path. Hear! The Nations cry for Constitutions—the
-monarchs hurrying with ghastly smiles _grant_ their request—the people
-would _take_ them else. Therefore prepare thee, for wilt thou or thy
-rulers—the time surely approaches. Expand thy mind—cultivate thy
-intelligence—study thy God—so that when the hour arrives, in the first
-wild bounds of freedom, as the desert steed thou dash not thyself to
-pieces; nor, like the frantic Gaul, bursting from imprisonment of ages,
-gore thyself with thine own broken fetters, rushing on to deeds of blood
-and frenzy that cause humanity to shudder. Ponder it, soldier! fare thee
-well.
-
-
-
-
-THE NUN.
-
-
-Now as we pass, look up! How minute appears the colossal statue of
-Our Lady in its niche on the vast front of the cathedral. And the
-nunneries—self-constituted prisons for those whom God hath born to
-freedom—how like birds of evil omen they do congregate. Here is that
-of the Grey Order. Ring at the gateway—we will enter. Here we pass the
-court-yard; how still, how gloomy, and how prison-like! This is their
-hospital. Piteous collection! The blind, the halt, the maimed, the
-hideously deformed—consumption—palsy—the wrecks of fevers! See! with what
-continued torture that wretched being writhes in her fixed position. Oh!
-this is the small spark of good amid the black brands of evil. These
-orphan children are kindly cared for, but where the child-like joy and
-mirthful freedom! With what stealthy step the officials move about their
-duties along the silent corridors! and,—aye! here is the chapel, with
-its gilded altars, its ornaments, its embroideries, its bleeding hearts,
-its sacred symbols. See with what gentleness the “_Lady_” performs the
-servile duties of the sanctuary! with what humility she bends before
-the altar. Oh! how beautiful that cheek of tint of Indian shell; those
-dark romantic eyes, with their long pensile lashes; that nose of Grecian
-outline; the small vermilion mouth; the throat and neck of snow, and the
-glossy raven tresses escaping in rich luxuriance from the plaited coif
-as they fall upon her sloping shoulders. Mournful seems her devotion—now
-rising she stands before the Mater Dolorosa; now wistfully gazes down
-the dark long corridor, in sorrowful meditation. Hush! be silent. I will
-steal gently near her. Lady! Turn not—’tis thy kind spirit whispers—art
-thou content? Does thy young active soul find employ congenial in these
-gloomy mysteries? Does thy springing, youthful heart, sympathize in these
-cold formalities—this company of grim-visaged saints and bearded martyrs
-with joy enchain thee? Does the passionate imagination and deep feeling
-flashing in those dark eyes—the already hectic kindling of that cheek,
-look with pleasure to long years—a life of cold monotonous routine—of
-nightly vigils—fastings—of painful mortifications? Lady! listen. They
-chain thy soul. Break thou away. Quick in thy youth, fly from them,
-fly. One moment. Speak not. See’st thou yon cottage peering from its
-green shades and gravelled walks—its parterres of the myrtle and the
-lily, its diamond lattice enwreathed and almost hidden in the embrace of
-sweet-smelling honeysuckles and clustering roses—and its interior with
-its simple yet delicate refinements? See’st thou in snowy dishabille
-the lovely woman? with what heart-felt glee the frolicking, half-naked
-child, with chubby arms, almost suffocates in its little embrace her
-neck, its golden ringlets mingling like streams of light ’mid her dark
-tresses,—with what ecstasy she enfolds him in her embraces, with maternal
-lips pressing in exquisite delight the plump alabaster shoulders? Lady,
-such scenes, not gloomy walls, invite thee—nay ’tis not the voice of
-the Tempter—’tis not, as they will tell thee, the poisonous breath of
-the many-coloured serpent stealing o’er thy senses. Let bearded men,
-wrecked on their own fierce lawless passions, seek these dark cells,
-these painful vigils, these unmeaning mortifications. They are not for
-thee. The world awaits thy coming. The pawing steed, throwing the white
-froth flakes o’er his broad chest, impatiently awaits thee. Fly, dear
-lady, fly—the joyous, carrolling birds, the dew-spangled meadows, cry,
-Come. The green, green trees—the bubbling water-falls—the soft summer
-breezes—the rosy tinted East—the gorgeous drapery of the West—cry to
-thee, Come. The voice of thy lover, frantic at thy self-sacrifice—the
-voice of him who in the fragrant orange bower encircled thy slender
-waist, whilst, with heightened colour and down-cast eyes, thou listen’d
-to his rapid vows—the voice of him, who with thy glossy raven tresses
-floating on his shoulder, and thy warm, sweet breath, mingling with his,
-lavished soul, existence, all, on thee,—in agony cries, Dearest, dearest,
-come. Nay, nay, ’tis but for _thy_ happiness,—I leave thee—exclaim not—I
-am gone.
-
-
-
-
-CATARACTS OF NIAGARA.
-
-
-Now—on, on—over the Chute, and down the Rapid—leaping the Saults—through
-the rivers, over the islands—we glide—we glide—we rush—we fly. Ho! Ariel,
-beautiful spirit, riding on thy rainbow—shoot not thy silver arrows at
-us as we pass. Tricksy spirit—fare thee well—now far in the distance,
-fare—thee—well! Ha! ha!—Old frolic Puck—sweating, panting, holding thy
-lubbard sides—we race—we race—we pass thee too—in vain thou strugglest
-to o’ertake us. Farewell—farewell. Go pinch the housemaids—tickle with
-straws the snoring herdsmen—tumble about the dusty mows—sprinkle sweet
-hay before the ruminating cattle—clutch by the tail the cunning fox,
-as stealthily he crawls within the hen-roost—and anon rub thy hands in
-glee o’er the embers on the capacious kitchen hearth, and on all-fours
-cut antics with the glowering cat, as with bowed back and shining eyes
-she watches thee i’ th’ corner—peer into the kettles and into the
-jars—see whether the barm rises—whether the yeast doth work; till with
-clash—clatter—the metal lid slips from thy fingers on the hearth-stone,
-and villain-like, thou shoot’st up the chimney, with “Ho! ho! ho!”
-laughing at the sleepy yeoman, as half covered, with oaken cudgel
-grasped, shivering, he peers through the door-crack the cause o’ th’
-uproar. Farewell, farewell, mirthful goblin—farewell, farewell. Ontario,
-we waft across thy surface. Queenstown, thy sanguinary heights, crowned
-with brave Briton’s monument, we pass, and now the rising mist-wreaths
-warn us of thy approach, Niagara. Huzza! huzza! now for a bath under the
-roaring Cataract. In what wild chaos of waters the clam’rous rapids, as
-if from the horizon, rush down upon us—jumping, leaping, boiling, in
-fierce confusion; and this frail bridge, how it groans and shakes in
-the torrent’s sweep! A slip from Mahomet’s sword edge o’er the awful
-Hades, would not consign us to more inevitable destruction, than would
-a treacherous plank or rotten beam from this shaking platform. We tread
-the deep green woods of Goat Island, their mossy trunks covered with
-love-marks of Orlandos and Rosalinds; and, amid the roar, descend the
-great Ferry stair-case—stop a moment at this landing—step out. How the
-solid earth shakes—jars and vibrates! How the wild winds rush by us, as
-the huge fluid arch stretches over with continuous plunge—and see that
-group of wild-flowers—scarlet, green, and purple—smiling in beauty beyond
-the reach of human hand, glistening in moisture midst the very spray in
-the rock cleft. But—haste—haste! Here is the boatman. Leap in—leap in!
-Now how, in our little cockle-shell bark, we whirl and sport in the
-eddies, o’er the fathomless depths below, like wing-borne insects playing
-over the abyss.
-
-We land—ascend the heights—we pass the sentry. At the tiring-house.
-We robe ourselves for the enterprise—tarpaulin coats—hats bound with
-old rope—trowsers of tow cloth—shoes of cowhide—ha! ha! But quick,
-descend the long spiral stair-case. Now, Guide—we follow. Beware you
-fall not on these sharp, slippery rocks. We approach. The Table Rock
-hangs over us. In grandeur the solid fluid mass falls precipitate.
-Prepare. Turn as you enter—hold down your head—repress your breath:
-are you ready? Rush! We are beneath the yawning chasm—soaked in an
-instant. Like furious rainstorm, and wind, and tempest all combined,
-this wild, frightful roar. What? Scream louder, louder. Hold firm by
-the guide—a slip from this narrow ledge—and—whew—splash—dead in our
-faces—almost suffocated. Turn to the dripping rock wall, and catch your
-breath till the wind rush again lifts the watery curtain. Slimy eels
-glide by—darkness deep above—dim light strives to reach us through the
-cataract sheets. We are at the extreme verge. Guide—guide—ha?—what
-indicates that motion of thy lips—closer—close in my ear. “Termination
-rock.” Turn—turn—splash—swash—drenched—suffocated—return, return. We see
-again the light. Rush! We stand once more in the clear open sunlight.
-Whew!—puff—dripping—dripping—a shower-bath worthy of old Neptune. How
-delightfully our nerves spring under its exhilarating influence. Take
-care—again these slippery stones. Beware! beware! Here we ascend again
-the stair-case. In the attiring-room. Towels—brushes—Christians once more.
-
-Come—come! Now to the Table Rock. See with what treacherous glitter
-the wide Niagara stretches in perfect smoothness far towards Chippewa,
-till, descending upon us, it shoots the rapids o’er their rocky beds
-like things of life, and with wild rush around the island, sweeps
-resistless o’er the awful cataracts, a roaring hurricane of waters. Give
-me your hand—lean forward—look into the abyss—careful. Evil spirits
-take us at advantage at such times, and whisper us to leap forward. How
-lashed in milky whiteness the huge gulf boils and foams as the waters
-plunge fractured, disjointed, tumbling in masses—and the wild birds,
-how fearlessly they skim amid the white mist rising from its surface.
-How the earth shudders and trembles around us. You are already dizzy.
-Come back from the edge. How awful—how terribly sublime! How tame—how
-useless, helpless description! Would that I, with voice of inspiration,
-could command language adequate to pourtray the grandeur of the scene
-under stern Winter’s reign! Transcendantly beautiful once I saw it! A
-thaw and rain, followed by sudden chill and cold, had clothed all the
-forest—every hedge and shrub, with transparent coat of ice. Gnarled
-oaks, from massive trunk to their extremest twigs, became huge crystal
-chandeliers. The ever-green pines and hemlocks, with long lancing
-branches,—great emeralds; lithe willows, sweeping, glassy cascades; the
-wild vines, stiff in silvery trellices between them; the undergrowth,
-with scarlet, blue and purple berries, candied fruits. The pools of
-frozen water at their feet, dark sheets of adamant; and ever and anon,
-as the north wind passed o’er them, the forest was Golconda, Araby—one
-Ind of radiant gems, quivering with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, in
-glittering splendour; pearls, emeralds, hyacinths, chrysolites, falling
-in showers, as fractured from their crackling branches, they strewed the
-snowy bed stretched smooth around them. That wide, smooth river, far
-above the Rapids, ice-chained, a solid snow-white bed, gleaming in the
-midday sun. Yon tower, misshapen giant phantom, ice god, in frozen shroud
-and winding-sheet, firmly fixed ’mid the swift running waters:—huge
-stalactite icicles, Winter’s hoary beard, hanging in fantastic curtains
-from each rock ledge—pinnacle—projection; while on the black rapids, the
-vast ice-fields breaking in masses, piled in wild confusion, grinding
-and swaying on their treacherous holds, till gathering momentum, with
-slide and plunge—submerged, they swept onward ’mid the wild roar of the
-cataracts, which, with stern, resistless power, held their terrific
-course. Those huge sheets, those watery arches, those green beryl masses,
-plunging in resistless fury, unabated vastness, with desperate leaps into
-the foaming abyss below, the spray falling in silver showers, pierced
-by the sun’s rays dancing around them in countless rainbows; while the
-ice avalanches, breaking from their grasps on the surrounding rocks and
-precipices, with booming plunge and uproar, fell crashing,—buried in
-the dark whirlpools, boiling in the fathomless depths below. The dark
-river, in torrents of copperas-hue, whirling in eddies, rushing o’er
-its deep rocky bed—in savage contrast with the snow-covered precipices
-that chained it to its course. Deep, resistless sweep of waters! black
-as despair—Sadoc here were to thee the waters of Oblivion—here that
-Lethe, which, till other worlds received thee, should blot existence from
-keenest memory.
-
-The voice of the Unseen addressed the afflicted Patriarch from the
-whirlwind’s midst—us does it warn from this chained whirlwind of the
-waters. Sublime, terrible, indescribable, as is this scene by human
-tongue, how tamely all its grandeur sinks beneath the catastrophe, which
-the being of future ages shall survey,—or would, if with eagle’s wings
-he could soar high in the clouds above it,—when the narrow rock-belt
-which Niagara for by-gone centuries has been slowly wearing, severed, the
-light tract alluvial crumbling—the whole chain of inland oceans—Huron,
-Erie, Michigan, with awful wildness and destruction, sweep in second
-deluge o’er this outlet—the adamantine rocks sinking like snow-wreaths
-from their beds—all principalities, kingdoms, states—whate’er they
-shall be—between the Atlantic and the Alleghanies, the Labrador and
-Mexico—swept from existence, and in their place a heaving surge—wild
-waste of waters. Fool! revolve this scene terrific in thy heart—ponder it
-well—then, if thou canst, say, indeed, there is no God! Thy life, at best
-a flickering taper, shall soon meet extinguishment. Then shall there be
-an eternity to convince thee.
-
-
-
-
-MOUNT HOLYOKE.
-
-
-Here we are in the middle of the month of August. The “world” have long
-since fled the hot walls and blazing pavements of old Gotham, and even
-the very school-boys are let loose from their pale-faced pedagogues, to
-frolic like young colts in the country. Come, let us not alone remain in
-the sweltering city. Throw a few things in your carpet-bag—ay, that is
-sufficient. Make me the guide. We will leave Saratoga and Rockaway to
-their flirtations—another field is before us. Now, Eastward ho! shall lie
-our course. Distance and time are left behind us—already we are ensconced
-at the Mansion House in this most lovely of villages, “Northampton the
-beautiful.”
-
-Well does it deserve the name. Come one moment to the corner of this
-piazza. Look down the long avenues. See the symmetrical verdant arches,
-formed by the boughs of the antique elms, bending toward each other in
-loving fraternity; and see the snow-white houses at their feet, their
-court-yards smiling with flowers; and see the still more smiling faces
-that glance behind their transparent windows. That will do—you have
-stared long enough at the demure beauty behind the green blinds. Look
-this way, and witness the refined taste exhibited in the graceful
-cottages, as they stand in relief against the dark back-ground of the
-forest,—the Grecian column, the Gothic arch, the Italian verandah,
-cottage and temple, all spread around you like the city of your dreams.
-Truly it seems, as it mostly is, the abode of retired gentlemen—a very
-Decameron sort of a place in this working-day world of ours. But, allons!
-Are we not Americans? _Why_ should we rest? To breakfast—behold a regular
-Yankee feast. Snow-white bread, and golden butter,—chickens that one
-short hour since dreamed of bins of corn and acres of oats on their
-roosts in the lofty barn,—steaks, pies, tea, preserves, the well-browned
-cakes, and last, not least, the sparkling amber cider. Blessings on the
-heart of the nice looking damsel at the coffee urn, with her red cheeks
-and neat check apron. But, egad! my dear friend—prudence! hold up—we have
-to ascend the mountain, and you will not find the feast that you are
-stowing away with such Dalgetty industry, likely to improve your wind.
-That last hot roll lengthens our ascent just one quarter of an hour.
-There! the horses are neighing, and impatiently champing the bit at the
-door. Are you ready? Come then. Look out, lest that fiery devil throw
-you on the bosom of our common mother, earth!—your bones would find her
-a step-dame—those flaming nostrils are sworn enemies to your long spur
-gaffs. But here we go! How balmy and delightful the cool air of the
-morning!—the verdant grass rises gracefully—the wild flower shakes its
-tiny bells, and drinks the dewy diamond glittering on its lips, as it
-waves gently o’er them. The rich yellow sun mocks the trees, as it rolls
-out their broad shadows on the velvet turf beneath—while from knoll and
-waving mullen stalk, the meadow-lark, with outstretched neck and piercing
-eye, utters his sweet notes in almost delirious rapture. We clear the
-broad meadows. Our very horses, with ears erect, gather speed with every
-bound, and seem ready to cry ha! ha! We are the fabled centaurs of old.
-
-See! see!—the heavy morning mist, rising in huge volumes, reluctantly
-bares the forest on the mountain side,—it curls and breaks in vast
-masses,—it slowly rolls off to the eastward. Aye! there he stands—there
-stands old _Holyoke_, with his cragged coronal of rocks, a gigantic
-Titan, bidding defiance to time and tempest. Gallop—gallop! we are within
-two hundred feet of the summit. This precipice, its dark sides frowning
-and grim, the velvet moss, and little clustres of scarlet and yellow
-flowers peeping from its crevices, where the ripling brooklet scatters
-its mimic showers over them, wreathed fantastically with vines and
-gnarled branches from its clefts,—we must climb on foot. Rest a moment.
-How perfectly still the dense forest extends around us. Nought breaks the
-silence, save the querulous cry of the cat-bird, as it hops from branch
-to branch,—the mimic bark of the squirrel, or the distant hollow tap of
-the woodpecker. Now, a little more climbing—take care of those loose
-stones—a few steps additional ascent—give me your hand—spring!—here we
-are on the rocky platform of its summit. Is not the scene magnificent?
-We stand in the centre of an amphitheatre two hundred miles in diameter.
-See! at the base of the mountain curls, like a huge serpent, the
-Connecticut, its sinuosities cutting the smooth plains with all sorts
-of grotesque figures,—now making a circuit around a peninsula of miles,
-across whose neck a child might throw a stone,—here stretching straight
-as an arrow for a like distance,—and there again returning like a hare
-upon its course. See the verdant valleys extending around us, rich with
-the labour of good old New England’s sons, and far in the distance—the
-blue smoky distance—rising in majesty, God’s land-marks, the mountains.
-See the beautiful plains, the prairies beneath us, one great carpet of
-cultivation,—the fields of grain, the yellow wheat, the verdant maize,
-the flocks, the herds, the meadow, the woodland, forming beautiful
-and defined figures in its texture, while the villages in glistening
-whiteness, are scattered, like patches of snow, in every part of the
-landscape; and hark! in that indistinct and mellow music we hear the
-bell slowly tolling from yonder slender spire. Oh! for a Ruysdael, or a
-Rubens, to do justice to the picture.
-
-Surely God did not intend that we should sweat and pant in cities when
-he places such scenes before us. How like the fierce giants of old
-the lofty mountains encircle it, as a land of enchantment. See! see!
-the clouds, as they scud along in the heavens, how they throw their
-broad shadows, chasing each other on the plains below. Imagine them
-squadrons, charging in desperate and bloody battle. But no—widows and
-orphans’ tears follow not _their_ encounters—rather the smiles of the
-honest, hard-handed yeoman, as he foresees his wains groaning with the
-anticipated harvests—his swelling stacks—his crowded granaries. Here, for
-the present, let us recline on the broad and moss-covered rocks, while
-with the untutored Indian, its rightful owner, in silent admiration, we
-worship the Great Spirit, whose finger moves not, save in beauty, in
-harmony and majesty.
-
-
-
-
-WHITE MOUNTAINS.
-
-
-“Knock! knock! knock!” W-e-l-l. “Thump! thump! thump!” Who’s there?
-What do you want? “Passengers for the White Mountains, Sir, time to get
-up,—stage ready.” Is it possible? three o’clock already? W-e-l-l, I’ll
-get up. Call the gentleman in the next room. Well, my friend, how are
-you, after your trip of yesterday to Mount Holyoke?—a little stiff in
-the knees and ancles, eh!—but come, the stage is at the door. Waiter,
-hold the light. How forlorn look the heavy muddy vehicle, and half-waked
-horses by the dim light of the stage lamps. That’s right, my good fellow;
-throw those carpet-bags in the inside. Shut the door. All ready. Driver,
-go ahead! “Aye, aye, sir.” Hey!—Tchk! tchk!—Crack! crack! crack! off we
-go. The steady clatter of the horses’ hoofs, the jingling of the harness,
-the occasional roll, as we pass over the boards of some bridge, and
-the intejectional whistle of the driver as he encourages them, are the
-only things that break the silence for the next hour. The morning light
-begins to dawn. Whom have we here? Only two fellow travellers. An honest,
-clean-looking countryman, snugly fixed in one corner, with his night-cap
-pulled over his eyes, and his mouth wide open, as if admiring the melody
-that his nose in bugle strain is enacting just above it; and opposite to
-him a gross fat man, of rubicund visage, his eyes ensconced in goggles.
-See! he nods—and nods—and nods, and now his head bobs forward into his
-neighbour’s lap. How foolishly he looks, as he awakes to consciousness.
-It is broad day-light. Let us get up with the driver on the outside, and
-enjoy our cigars and the scenery together.
-
-Here we go, through the Connecticut River Valley, famous for its scenery
-and its legends—the region of bright eyes and strong arms—the land of
-quiltings and huskings—of house-raisings and militia trainings, and the
-home of savory roast pigs and stuffed turkeys, of fat geese, of apple
-sauce, and pumpkin pies; the Ultima Thule to the Yankee’s imagination.
-Now we are at Deerfield. While they are about our breakfast, we will run
-across the road, and see the old Williams Mansion. A hundred years since,
-it was surrounded by Indians, and its occupant, the clergyman, with his
-family, carried off captives to Canada. Here is the very hole cut in
-the front door by their tomahawks, and here the hacks of the hatchets.
-Through this hole they ran their rifles, and fired into the house,
-killing a man confined to his bed by sickness, and here is the ball
-lodging to this day in the side of the wall—and this occurred one hundred
-years ago! Say you, that the people that treasure up these legends, and
-retain these memorials untouched, have no poetry in their souls? But
-there goes the stageman’s horn! Our breakfast finished, we resume our
-places at the side of the good-natured driver, and on we roll. We pass
-Brattleboro’, snugly ensconced in its mountain eyrie, and Hanover, with
-its broad parade, its flourishing colleges, and its inhabitants that
-never die,—save from old age.
-
-With teams of six and eight horses, we speed over hill, over dale, over
-mountain, over valley, ascending and descending the mountains in full
-run; our gallant horses almost with human instinct, guiding themselves.
-Snorting leaders, swerve not aside in your career—linch-pins, do your
-duty—traces and breeching, hold on toughly, or “happy men be our dole.”
-Hah! Wild Amonoosac, we greet thy indeed wild roar.—How it sweeps
-the fallen timber in its boiling eddies! The huge logs slide dancing
-onwards with the velocity of the canoes of the Indian; or caught by
-envious projection, or uplifting rock, form dams and cascades, till the
-increasing and cumbrous masses, gathering momentum, plunge forward,
-sweeping all before them,—and—but whist! Step into the shade of this
-tree—look into the dark pool beneath those gnarled roots—how beautifully
-the gold and purple colours glitter—how motionlessly still is the
-head—how slight and tremulous the movement of that fin—the wavy motion
-of the tail. A two pounder, as I am a Christian! Whist! whist! See that
-dragon-fly, gently sailing o’er the surface—he rests a moment on it.
-Watch! the head slowly turns—the fins move decidedly—ay—now—one rapid
-whirl of the tail—an electric leap to the surface—Poor fly, thy history
-is written; and well for thee, thou greedy trout, that no barbed hook
-suspends thee in mid air—struggling in beauty, though in death, the prize
-of exulting angler. And thou, too, art there, savage _Mount Franconia_,
-with thy fantastic and human outline! Old Man of the Mountain!—with what
-grim stoicism thou lookest down upon the busy miners, as with picks and
-powder-blast they rive the sullen mineral from thy vitals. Ay! watch
-thou by the lurid glare the sweating, half-naked forgemen, as they feed
-with thy forests the roaring furnaces. Watch the molten ore, slowly
-running in glittering streams, with fiery showers of scintillations into
-the dark earth-troughs below; while with ceaseless din, the ponderous
-trip-hammers, and clanking machinery, break the till now Sabbath
-stillness of thy dwelling place. But fare thee well, thou imperturbable
-old man; fare thee well, for now, we enter the dense continuous forest,
-through which the busy hand of man has with unwearied industry cut the
-avenue. How deliciously the aroma of the gigantic pines, mingles with
-the pure elastic air of the mountains. See the thick undergrowth; the
-dogwood with its snowy blossoms—the scarlet sumac—the waving green
-briar, profuse with delicate roses,—the crimson raspberry, loaded with
-its fruit—the yellow sensitive plant—the dancing blue-bell; and, rising
-through the entangled mass of verdure and beauty, see the luxuriant wild
-grape, and clinging ivy, joyously climbing the patriarchs of the forest,
-encircling their trunks, and hanging their branches in graceful festoons
-and umbrageous bowers.—No human foot, save with the aid of pioneer, can
-penetrate its matted wildness—nought save those huge patriarchs rising
-above it as they grow old and die, and fall with crashing uproar, as into
-flowery sepulchre, intrude upon its solitude. Then, indeed, in heavy
-booming plunge and rush, they seem to wildly sing, like their painted
-children, their death song. But hark!—whence that wild and dissonant
-shriek, that rings upon the ear? Ah—yonder, erect and motionless, he sits
-upon the towering oak with haughty eye and talons of iron, screaming his
-call of warning to his partner, slowly circling in graceful curves high,
-high in the blue ether above him. Ay! proud bird, our nation’s emblem,
-would that thy wild scream could warn from us, the accursed spirit of
-Mammon, which, spreading like an incubus, blights and destroys with its
-mildew the virtues and energies of her sons.
-
-But see, where, as the dense forest stretches onward, the casual spark
-dropped by the hand of the woodman, spreading into flame, and gathering
-in mighty volumes of fire, has swept onwards in its roaring, crackling,
-destroying progress, leaving nought behind it, save these grim and
-blackened skeletons, and dead plains of ashes. See what darkness and
-desolation, and apparent annihilation, extend around you—but yet,
-silently and quietly, ere long, shall the germ of life which can never
-die, rise from these ashes, and verdure and beauty reign again, as was
-their wont. Even so the solitary mourner, when death strikes down at
-his side his dearest ones, stands helplessly encircled by solitude and
-desolation; but soon all-pervading benevolence causes the green germ
-of the soul to rise from the ashes, and his heart again expands with
-tenderness and sympathy.
-
-The scene of desolation is passed! and now, lest the Lord of fire should
-reign uncontrolled, lo! where the spirit of the whirlwind has swept in
-his wild tornado. Lo! far as your vision can command the circle—where,
-rushing from the mountain gorges his chariots have whirled along in their
-fierce career of destruction. In mid height, the lofty trees are snapped
-like pipe-stems, and prone like the field of grain laid by the hand of
-the reaper, huge trunks with the moss of centuries,—not here and there
-one solitary,—but for miles, the whole vast forest—prostrate, never again
-to rise.
-
-But speed! speed! the mountain passes are before us! See—see their
-huge walls tower in chaotic wildness above us. Rocks on rocks—ledge on
-ledge—cliff on cliff—plunged upon each other in frantic disorder. See—
-
-    “See the giant snouted crags, ho! ho!
-    How they snort, how they blow.”
-
-See the huge rock ramparts shooting their wild peaks and jagged pinnacles
-upwards, piercing the very sky above us! their frowning and gashed sides
-trickling and discoloured with the corroding minerals in their bowels;
-the stunted pines and evergreens clinging like dwarf shrubs in their
-crevices. Take heed! beware you fall not. See the huge slides—they have
-swept whole torrents of rocks, of earth, in promiscuous destruction, from
-their summits, upon the valley below—the rivers filled, and turned from
-their courses, in their path,—the very forest itself—the loftiest trees
-torn up, their branches, their trunks, their upturned roots ground and
-intermixed with rock and earth, and splintered timber, swept on in wild,
-inextricable confusion—and here! where starting from their slumbers, the
-devoted family rushed naked and horror-stricken to meet it in mid career.
-Ay! hold on by the sides of the steep precipice—cling to the ledge as
-the wild wind rushes by in furious gust—a slip were your passport to
-eternity. Look down! How awful the precipice, thousands of feet below
-you—how the blood curdles and rushes back upon the heart, as you imagine
-the fatal plunge. Well might the Puritans of old, deem these ghastly
-deserts the abode and haunts of the evil one.
-
-But, on—on—how toilsome the ascent.—That was a fearful blast; hold
-tightly the wild roots in thy grasp as it passes. Long since have we
-passed the region of vegetation: the dry and arid moss clinging to rock
-and stone, is alone around us. Ay! drink of that spring—but beware its
-icy coldness—nor winter, nor summer, alters its temperature. Behold, in
-the clefts and gorges below, the never-melting snow-wreaths. The flaming
-suns of summer pass over, and leave them undiminished. Courage! we climb,
-we climb. The witches of the Brocken ne’er had such wild chaos for their
-orgies. Courage, my friend! We ascend—we ascend—we reach the top—now
-panting—breathless—exhausted, we throw ourselves upon the extreme summit.
-
-Gather your faculties—press hard your throbbing heart. Catch a view of
-the scene of grandeur around you, before the wild clouds, like dense
-volumes of steam, enclose us in their embrace, shutting it from our
-vision;—mountains—mountains—rolling off as far as eye can reach in
-untiring vastness—a huge sea of mountains held motionless in mid career.
-How sublime! how grand! what awful solitude! what chilling, stern,
-inexorable silence! It seems as if an expectant world were awaiting in
-palpitating stillness the visible advent of the Almighty—mountain and
-valley in expectant awe. Oh! man—strutting in thy little sphere, thinkest
-thou that adoration is confined alone to thy cushioned seats—thy aisles
-of marble; that for devotion, the Almighty looks to nought but thee?
-Why, look thou there!—beneath—around—millions—millions—millions of
-acres teeming with life, yet hushed in silence to thy ear—each grain
-the integer and composite of a world—the minutest portion, a study—a
-wonder in itself—lie before thee in awful adoration of their Almighty
-Founder. Well did the Seers of old go into the mountains to worship.
-Oh! my brother-man—thou that dost toil, and groan, and labour, in
-continual conflict with what appears to thee unrelenting fate—thou to
-whom the brow-sweat appears to bring nought but the bitter bread, and
-contumely, and shame;—thou on whom the Sysiphean rock of misfortune seems
-remorselessly to recoil—ascend thou hither. Here, on this mountain-peak,
-nor King, nor Emperor are thy superior. Here, thou _art_ a man. Stand
-thou here; and while with thy faculties thou canst command, in instant
-comprehension, the scene sublime before thee, elevate thee in thy
-self-respect, and calmly, bravely throw thyself into the all-sheltering
-arms of Him, who watches with like benevolence and protection, the young
-bird in its grassy nest, and the majestic spheres, chiming eternal music
-in their circling courses!
-
-
-
-
-BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT.
-
-
-Here we are at Newport—what a little gem of an island—rising like emerald
-on sapphire, from the surrounding ocean. Neither at Potter’s nor at
-Whitfield’s, will we take our abode. We will walk up to the Mall. Ay,
-here, with its green blinds and scrupulously clean piazza, is old Mrs.
-E——’s, and they are at tea already. Come, take your seat at table.
-
-With what serene dignity and kindness the old lady, in her nice plaited
-cap, her spotless kerchief, and russet poplin dress, her pin ball, with
-its silver chain, hanging at her waist—presides at the board—crowded
-with every imaginable homely delicacy—from the preserved peach and
-crullers made by herself, to the green candied limes brought home by her
-grandson from his last West India voyage. See the antique furniture,
-with its elaborate carving, the mahogany-framed looking-glasses; and,
-in the corner, on the round stand, the large Bible, carefully covered
-with baize, surmounted with the silver spectacles. No place this for
-swearing, duel-fighting, be-whiskered heroes; but just the thing for
-quiet, sober folk, like you and me. What sayest thou, Scipio, thou ebon
-angel,—that the ebb sets at five i’ the morning, and that old Davy Swan,
-the fisherman, will be ready for us at the Long Wharf at that hour? Well,
-get yourself ready and go along with us. Call us in season. Ay, that
-will do—the roll of those eyes—the display of that ivory, to say nothing
-of the scratch of that head, and the sudden displacement of that leg,
-sufficiently evince thy delight.
-
-So, so,—here we are, punctual to the hour. Ay, yonder he is in his broad
-strong fishing-boat; yonder is old Davy Swan, as he was twenty years
-ago; the same tall, gaunt figure, the same stoop in the shoulders,
-bronzed visage, and twinkling grey eyes; the same wrinkles at the side
-of his mouth, though deeper; the same long, lank hair, but now the sable
-silvered; the same—the same that he was in the days of my boyhood. He
-sees us. Now he stretches up to the wharf. Jump in—jump in. Be careful,
-thou son of Ethiopia, or thy basket will be overboard—sad disappointment
-to our sea-whet appetites some few brief hours hence. All in. We slide
-gently from the wharf. The light air in the inner harbour here barely
-gives us headway. Look down into the deep, still water—clear as crystal;
-see the long sea-weed wave below; see the lithe eels, coursing and
-whipping their paths through its entangled beds; and see our boat, with
-its green and yellow sides—its long flaunting pennant—its symmetrical
-white sails, suspended, as if in mid-air, on its transparent surface.
-
-How still and tranquil lies the quiet town, as the sun gilds its white
-steeples; and how comfortable look the old family mansions rising from
-the green trees. How beautifully the yellow sun casts his shadows on the
-undulating surface of the island, green and verdant—the flocks of sheep,
-and browsing cattle, grouped here and there upon its smooth pastures. And
-see, how yonder alike he gilds the land of the brave, the chivalrous,
-the unfortunate Miantonimoh. We float past Fort Wolcott. Its grass-grown
-ramparts, surmounted with dark ordnance, and its fields cheerful with
-white-washed cottages and magazines.
-
-Ay! now it breezes a little—now we gather headway—and now we pass the
-cutter. See her long, taper, raking masts, her taut stays and shrouds;
-and hear, as the stripes and stars are run up to her gaff, the short
-roll of the drum, the “beat to quarters.” Hah! Davy,—old fellow, dost
-remember that note last war? How many times, at midnight, we’ve sprang
-from our beds as that short, quick “rub-a-dub” warned us of the approach
-of the blockading frigates, as they neared the town. But, no, no,—forgive
-me, old tar,—I recollect, indeed, thou then wast captain of thy gun,
-on board the dashing _Essex_. Ay! well now do I remember, brave old
-sailor, thy conduct in her last desperate battle. Eighteen men hadst thou
-killed at thy single gun. I think I see thee now, as grimed with powder,
-spattered with blood, thou didst advance, through fire and smoke, and
-approach thy saturnine commander on the quarter-deck. I hear thy brief,
-business-like request, “A fresh crew for Number Three, Second Division.
-All my men are killed!” And the short, stern response, “Where is your
-officer?” “_Dead_,—swept overboard by cannon shot.” And well can I see
-the momentary play of anguish round his mouth, as, resuming his hurried
-walk, he gloomily replies, “I have no more men—you must fight your gun
-yourself!” Ay—and as thy proud ship a helpless target lay, for twice
-superior force, I hear poor Ripley, thy brave comrade, severed almost in
-twain by cannon shot, crying, with short farewell—“Messmates, I am no
-longer of use to myself or country,” as he throws himself, his life-blood
-gushing, overboard.
-
-But now the wind freshens—the smooth surface darkens—the sails belly out
-in tension, and the white ripples gather under our bows. We round the
-point: Fort Adams, we pass thy massive walls, thy grim “forty-two’s”
-glaring like wild beasts, chained, ready to leap upon us from their
-casements. Ay—now we run outside—now it freshens—now it breezes—she
-begins to dance like a feather. There it comes stronger! see the white
-caps! There she goes—scuppers under—swash—swash—swash—we jump from wave
-to wave, as we run parallel with the shore, our pennant streaming proudly
-behind us. Here it comes, strong and steady—there she takes it—gunwale
-under—luff, old fellow! luff up, Davy! or you’ll give us all wet jackets.
-Ay! that will do—she’s in the wind’s eye. How the waves tumble in upon
-the land—see the Spouting Rock—see the column of white foam thrown up,
-as repulsed, the waves roll out again from the rocky cavern. We near
-the Dumplings—and, round to! round to! here are the lobster-pots—haul
-in—tumble them in the bottom of the boat—ay—there’s bait enough. Now we
-lay our course across to Beaver Light—we slide, we dash along—springing
-from wave to wave—dash—dash—no barnacles on her bottom at this rate,
-Davy. Ay, here we are—a quick run—a good quick run. Anchor her just
-outside the surf—ay, that will do—give her a good swing—let her ride
-free—she rolls like a barrel on these long waves. Look to your footing,
-boys—steady—steady. Now, then, for it. Davy, you and Scip will have as
-much as you can do to bait for us—all ready. Here goes then—a good long
-throw—that’s it—my sinker is just inside the surf. What!—already! I’ve
-got him—pull in, pull in—see, my line vibrates like a fiddle-string!—pull
-away—here he is—_Tautaug_—three-pounder. Lie you there—ay, slap away,
-beauty, you have done for ever with your native element. There, again—off
-with him. Again—again—again. This is fun to us, but death to you,
-ye disciples of St. Anthony! Give me a good large bait this time,
-Scipio—that will do—now, whis-whis-whis-te—that’s a clean, long throw.
-By Jupiter! you have got a bite with a vengeance. Careful—give him more
-line—let it run—play him—ease—ease the line around the thole-pin; he’ll
-take all the skin of your fingers else. Pull away gently—there he runs.
-Careful, or you lose him—play him a little—he begins to tire—steady,
-steady—draw away—now he shoots wildly this way—look out! there he goes
-under the boat; here he is again. Steady—quick, Davy, the net;—I’ve got
-it under him—now then, in with him. Bass! twenty pounds, by all the
-steel-yards in the old Brick Market! Ay, there they have got hold of
-me; a pull like a young shark; let it run—the whole line is out—quick,
-quick—take a turn round the thole-pin—snap! There, Davy! there goes
-your best line, sinker, hooks and all. Give me the other line. Ah,
-ha!—again—again—again. This is sport. One—two—three——nine Bass, and
-thirty Tautaug. So—the tide won’t serve here any longer; we will stretch
-across to Brenton’s Reef, on the other side. Up anchor, hoist away the
-jib. Here we go, again coursing o’er the blue water. How the wind lulls.
-Whew—whew—whew—blow wind, blow! Put her a little more before it; that
-will do. Hallo, you, Scipio! wake up—wake up. Here we are, close on the
-reef—give her plenty of cable. Let her just swing clear, to lay our
-sinkers on the rocks. That will do. How the surges swell, and roar, and,
-recoiling, rush again boiling on the rocks. So—so, they don’t bite well
-here to-day. The tide comes in too strong flood; well, we can’t complain,
-we have had good sport even as it is. Come, Africa, bear a hand; let’s
-see what you have got in that big basket. Come, turn out, turn out. Ham,
-chicken, smoked salmon, bread and butter; and in that black bottle?—ay,
-good old brown stout? Pass them along—pass them along, and wo be unto
-thee, old fellow, if thy commissariat falls short.
-
-
-
-
-BRENTON’S REEF.
-
-
-With what sullen and continuous roar the ocean waves heave in upon this
-inhospitable reef. See, as they recede, how the long slimy rock-weed
-hangs dripping, and how deeply the returning surge buries it again. Oh,
-never shall I forget the scene upon this horrid reef, witnessed in my
-boyhood. A dark portentous day in autumn, was followed in the evening
-by a terrific storm. Low, muttering thunder, which had been growling
-in the distant horizon, as the night set in, grew louder. The perfect
-stillness which had obtained, as if in preparation, was broken by long
-moaning sighs; the lightning became quick and incessant, and ere long,
-the tempest, like an unchained demon, came bounding in from Ocean. The
-lightning intensely vivid, accompanied by crashing and terrific thunder,
-illuminated the surrounding coast with glittering splendour; the islands,
-the rocks, and yon beacon tower, now exposed to brightness, surpassing
-noon-day, and now plunged into blackest darkness. The ocean appeared a
-sea of molten fire. Rain—hail—dashed hissing by, and mid the screaming
-of the blast, and the torrents rushing from the skies, the huge waves
-plunged, and roared, and lashed in milky whiteness, broke mast high
-upon these horrid rocks. While the fishermen in their cottages were
-thanking their stars that they were snug and safe on shore, we heard in
-the temporary lulls of the howling storm, signal guns of distress. The
-neighbouring inhabitants, myself among the number, were soon upon that
-point, and by the glittering flashes within musket shot of the shore,
-discerned a Spanish ship on the very ridge of the frightful reef—the
-stumps of her masts alone remaining—the surf running and breaking in a
-continual deluge over her, while in her fore shrouds were congregated
-the unhappy crew. She was so near to us, that we could almost see the
-expression of agony in their countenances, as, with extended hands they
-piteously shrieked for help. Their situation was hopeless. We could do
-nothing for them. No whale-boat could have lived for a moment, the surf
-rolled in with such resistless violence. We could only listen in silent
-horror. We heard the very grinding of her timbers, as shock on shock
-hastened her dissolution; and amid the fury of the storm, and their
-frantic cries for aid, never shall I forget, in the momentary lulls, the
-sickening continuous wail of a young boy lashed in the mid-rigging,—his
-supplicating exclamation, “Ai Jesus!—Ai Jesus!” Often, years after, in
-my dreams, did I hear those plaintive cries, and see that young boy’s
-face turned imploringly to Heaven, while that “Ai Jesus!—Ai Jesus!”
-rang wildly in my ears. But a short time could human fabric sustain the
-ceaseless plunge of the foaming elements. By the lightning flashes, we
-could see the number of the sufferers lessen, as relaxing their hold,
-they dropped off exhausted one by one—swept into the rocky caverns
-below; until, a longer interval of darkness—a more intense flash of
-lightning—and all had disappeared. Nought was left but the white foam as
-it rushed tumultuously boiling and coursing over the long reef before
-us. It was so brief—so hurried—the appearance of our fellow-creatures in
-their agony, and their disappearance so sudden, that it seemed a feverish
-dream. But the dead, mutilated bodies—ceroons of indigo and tobacco—and
-broken planks, swept along the shore on the following morning, convinced
-us of its sad reality.
-
-The corse of the young boy, ungashed by the ragged rocks, I found, and
-caused it to be buried apart from the rest in the church-yard, for it
-appeared, as if there was in his childish helplessness, a claim upon
-me for protection. That expression of agony I ne’er heard since—save
-once: and that—but Davy, we have had all the sport we are like to have
-to-day—get up the anchor, and we will fan along up to the harbour. So—let
-her jibe—now put her before it—ay—that will do.—As I was saying. Shortly
-after the close of the last war, buoyant with youth and hope, I made,
-what was then not so common as now, the tour of Europe—lingering long in
-Old Spain, fascinated with the romantic character of the countrymen of
-Cervantes—of the gallant Moors—of the Alhambra and the Cid. It chanced
-one evening, strolling about the streets of Madrid in pursuance of
-adventure, that, passing through one of the most unfrequented squares,
-I was attracted by lights shining through the long Gothic windows of a
-large chapel or cathedral. I approached, and entering with some curiosity
-found it entirely silent. No living soul was present within its walls.
-The lofty chancel and altars were shrouded in mourning. By the wax
-candles on the altars, I could see the fretted arches—the shrines and
-monuments along the walls—and the family banners wreathed in gloomy
-festoons above them. I wandered about, alone and uninterrupted. Nought
-moved, save the old blood-stained flags, as they fitfully waived to and
-fro in the wind. I gazed around me in admiration on the rich shrines
-and their appropriate pictures. Here, with her offerings of flowers,
-the wax candles, burning bright and clear, was the Madonna, her lovely
-countenance beaming with celestial sweetness, as she looked down upon the
-infant Saviour nestling in her arms—the Baptist standing at her knee,
-pressing the plump little foot to his lips—and there, John in the island
-of Patmos—his emaciated limbs staring from their scanty covering of
-sackcloth—and his gaunt features glowing with inspiration, as from among
-the cloud of scattered grey hair, and venerable beard, with upturned
-face, he received from the flame-encircled trumpet above him, the Holy
-Revelation.
-
-Here, armed cap-à-pied, the chivalrous Knights of the Temple consigned
-their slain brother to his rocky sepulchre, as with grim, stern, averted
-countenances they watched the fierce conflict and assault of the daring
-Infidel upon their Holy City—and there, the cross of Constantine richly
-emblazoned on its altar, was the _Crucifixion_, the Saviour extended
-on the cross—the thieves on each side of him—the head just bowed—and
-the awful “_It is finished!_” announced to the nations in frightful
-phenomena. The sun turned to blood, throwing a lurid and unnatural
-glare on the assembled multitude—the war-horses, riderless, rearing
-and plunging with distended nostrils—rolling in convulsions the solid
-mountains;—the affrighted soldiery, horror-stricken, wildly lifting their
-hands to ward off the toppling crag, which, torn from its foundation by
-the earthquake, was in another instant to grind them to powder—while
-the Roman centurion, with curling lip, holding tighter in his grasp the
-crimson flag, the “_S. P. Q. R._” shaking fiercely in the wild wind,
-seemed to deride the coward Jew, even in that dread moment, with his
-abject slavery—and here was San Sebastian, his eyes streaming with martyr
-tears—and the tinkling of a small bell struck upon my ear:—boys clad in
-scarlet, swung their censers to and fro, and the incense floated high
-above them to the vaulted arches.
-
-A train of monks, in purple robes embroidered with white crosses,
-appeared in procession, slowly advancing on the tesselated pavement,
-bearing on tressels, covered with dark pall, a corse, by the muffled
-outline, of manly stature. Two female figures; grave servitors, with deep
-reverence supporting them, followed close the dead. The deep thunder
-tones of the huge organ, swept upward as they entered, wild, grand,
-and terrible, as if touched by no earthly hand: scarce audible sounds
-floating from the smallest pipes would catch the ear—then bursts, like
-the roaring whirlwind, pouring in the whole mass of trumpets, rolling,
-and rising, and falling,—the most exquisite symphonies floating in the
-intervals, until fainter, fainter, the heart sickened in efforts to
-catch its tones. Dead silence followed:—the corse was deposited in the
-chancel—the dark black pall was slowly withdrawn, and the noble figure of
-a cavalier in the bloom of manhood, pallid in death, lay exposed before
-us. Clad in sable velvet, his rapier rested on his extended body, the
-jewelled cross-hilt reverently enclosed in his clasped hands, as they
-met upon his broad chest, while the luxuriant raven hair, parted on the
-high forehead, the dark arched eye-brow, and the glossy moustache curling
-on the lip, added deeper pallor, to what appeared deep, deep sleep. The
-servitors withdrew, and the mother and the daughter advanced to the last
-sight of him that was so generous, so kind, so beautiful—their all. The
-thick veil, thrown hastily aside, discovered the furrowed, time-worn,
-grief-worn features of the mother, convulsively writhe and work, as,
-sinking at its head, her lips pressed in uncontrollable agony the damp
-cold white forehead. The sister, clad in robes of purest whiteness, her
-golden ringlets dishevelled and floating around her, and in their rich
-luxuriance, almost hiding her graceful form, bent o’er him; and as her
-gaze met not the answering smile of kindness and protection, to which
-from infancy it was wont, but the stern, calm, sharpened features,
-in their icy stillness; then, as with frantic sobs, her exquisitely
-feminine, almost childish countenance, streaming with tears, was lifted
-upwards, and her hands wringing with anguish,—then uttered in deep
-convulsive bitterness, that “_Ai Jesus!_” in smothered tones, again
-struck upon my startled ear. Long silence followed, unbroken save by
-sobs, as, sunk by its side, they embraced the still, unconscious ashes.
-Slowly the deep grave voices of the monks rose in solemn tones, and as
-their mournful chant sank into deep bass, at intervals was it taken
-up by a single female voice in the choir, which, high above the organ
-tones, with surpassing sweetness, ascended higher, higher, until every
-nook in the lofty arches above, appeared filled and overflowing with the
-rich melody: then, descending lower—lower—lower—the imagination wildly
-sought it in the passing wind. The monks drew near with uplifted and
-extended hands, muttering in low tones their benediction; then crossing
-themselves, encircling the corse on bended knees, with eyes lifted up to
-heaven, uttered, in loud voices—
-
-    “Ora pro illo—mater miserecordiæ,”
-    “Salvator Hominum—Ora pro illo”——
-
-“_Ora pro illo_,” again rose like a startled spirit from the choir, in
-that single female voice, rising with an intensity that made the old
-walls re-echo the petition—and then, descending like the fluttering of a
-wounded bird, it became less—less—and all was still.
-
-After a brief interval, leaning in apparent stupor upon the arms of the
-affectionate retainers, the ladies slowly withdrawing, passed again the
-chancel’s entrance, and the sacred procession raising the body with
-melancholy chant, bore it to the lower part of the chapel. I heard the
-clank of iron, as the rusty portal of the family sepulchre reluctant
-turned upon its hinges;—and then rested from its human journey, that
-corse forever. I made inquiries, but could learn nought about the actors
-in the scene, other than that they were strangers,—a noble family from
-the Havana;—that the father—invalid—had died in crossing the sea—and the
-usual story of Spanish love, and jealousy, and revenge, had consigned
-the son and brother, in the bloom of his days, by duel, to his grave;
-and subsequently, that the mother and sister had closed the history of
-the family, dying, broken-hearted, in the convent to which they had
-retired. But, here we are, at the wharf. Our rapid journey approaches
-now its termination. A few short hours, and we shall again be merged
-in the ceaseless din of the city; the fair and tranquil face of nature
-change for the anxious countenances of our fellow-men; the joyous carol
-of the birds, the soft forest breeze, and the sea-beach ripple, for paved
-streets and our daily round of duty and of labour. We have found “a
-world beyond Verona’s walls.” Perhaps at future time we may again travel
-it together. Till then, thanking you for your “right good and jollie”
-company. Farewell!
-
-
-
-
-OLD TRINITY STEEPLE.
-
-BROADWAY NEAR THE BOWLING-GREEN.
-
-
-(Ground covered with ice—Furious storm of snow and sleet. Two gentlemen
-becloaked and bemuffled, hurrying in different directions, come in full
-contact, and mutually recoiling hasten to make apology.)
-
-“My dear Sir—a thousand pardons.”—“No, indeed Sir, ’twas I—I was the
-offending party.”—“No, I assure you—I”—eh!—is it?—it is!—my old friend
-the reader.—Why, my dear friend—you came upon me as if you had been
-discharged from a Catapult—a Paixhan shot was nothing to you? But where
-so fast in the fury of the storm—Not to Union Square! Heavens! Man, you
-will never reach there living—Why in this horrid cold the spirits of
-Nova-Zembla and Mont-Blanc are dancing in ecstacy about the fountains
-in the Park, and the very cabs are frozen on their axles! Never think
-of it. Come—come with me to my rooms hard by in State-street, and
-on the word of a bachelor and a gentleman, I’ll promise to make you
-comfortable. Come, take my arm—Whew! how this North-Wester sweeps around
-the Battery. Here we are—This is the house—A real aristocratic old
-mansion; is it not?—Enter, my dear friend—Run up the stairs—Holloa!
-ho! Scip!—Scipio—Africanus—Angel of Darkness—come forth—come forth—Ay!
-here you are. And you, too, shaggy old Neptune, your eyes sparkling with
-delight, and your long tongue hanging out over your white teeth—down—you
-old rascal—down sir—down. Now, is not this snug and comfortable—a good
-roaring fire of hickory—none of your sullen red-hot anthracite for me.
-How the cold wind howls through the leafless trees upon the Battery,—Draw
-the curtains—Scip!—Come, bear a hand, take the reader’s hat and coat.
-Invest him with the wadded damask dressing gown that Tom sent home
-from Cairo—and the Turkish slippers—So—so—Now bring me mine; place the
-well-stuffed easy chairs; roll the round table up between us—bring in
-the lights. Now, reader, at your elbow, lo! provision for your wants,
-material and mental—genuine old Farquhar and amber Golden Sherry—the
-Chateaux I got years since from Lynch; and just opened is that box of
-genuine Regalias, only smell! “Fabrica de Tabacos—Calle-a-Leon—En la
-Habana, No. 14.” Is it not Arabia’s perfume! Ha! give me your smoking
-Spaniard in his sombrero—e’er any a half-naked Bedouin of them all;—or
-if indeed you do prefer it, there stands the Chiboque coiled up in
-the corner, and the metaphysical German’s meer-schaum on the shelf.
-There are biscuit and anchovies, and olives, “old Cheshire,” and other
-inviting things for your wants physical, and for your mental, lo! uncut
-and damp from the publishers with the regular new book smell—the North
-American—Old Blackwood—the Quarterly—the Edinburgh Review—Diedrich in
-his high back chair, the Sporting and other Maga’s, and by a slight
-curve of thy vertebræ cervical, behold shining through yon glazed
-doors—glowing in gold, dross to the gold within; the great master Bard of
-England—Cervantes—the chosen spirits of Italia and Gaul—Irving—worthy to
-be called Washington—Bryant—sweet poet—and Halleck, genuine son of the
-voyagers in the Mayflower—and of literature much other goodly store.
-
-Now, Scip! Lord of the Gold Coast—throw more wood upon the fire—Ay! that
-will do—my good old faithful servant—that will do—now take that pepper
-and salt head of thine down to the kitchen hearth, there to retail thy
-legend and goblin story, or ensconce thee in the corner at thy will—Ah!
-hah, old Neptune—snug in thy place upon the hearth rug—thy nose lying
-between thy outstretched paws as thou lookest intently in the fire—Bless
-thine honest heart!—thinking, I warrant me, of the beautiful child whom
-thou didst leap the Battery bridge to save. How bravely thou didst bear
-the little sufferer up on the fast rushing tide. The grateful father
-would have bought thee for thy weight in gold, as thou didst lie panting
-and half exhausted—but look not so wistfully my dog—a sack of diamonds
-could not purchase thee—no—never do we part till death steps in between
-us—and, by my faith, an’ thou goest first, thou shalt have Christian
-burial.
-
-Now, dear reader, as thou reclinest comfortably in that big arm chair,
-thy feet in Ottoman slippers resting on the fender, the blue smoke of
-thy cigar wreathing and curling around thy nose, as it ascends in placid
-clouds, and floats in misty wreaths above thy forehead—the glass of
-Chateaux, like a ruby resting upon its slender stem, light, quivering at
-thy elbow, and that open Blackwood upon thy knee—dost not—confess it—dost
-not feel more kind and charitable, than if, with benumbed fingers, thou
-wert following a frozen visage to thy distant mansion, in the great
-city’s far purlieus—
-
-But, heaven guard us! how savagely the tempest roars and howls around
-the chimney tops—Good angels preserve the poor mariner as he ascends
-the ice-clad rigging—lays out upon the slippery yard—and handles with
-frost-benumbed fingers the rigid canvass folds. Ah! I recollect it was
-in just such a night as this, a few years since—years that have rolled
-past into retrograde eternity, that I was seated in that same arm chair,
-in the same bachelor independence, the fire burning just as brightly—the
-curtains as snugly drawn—my beautiful Flora looking down with the same
-sweetness from her frame above the mantel—my snow white Venus between the
-piers—the Gladiator stretching forth his arm in just such proud defiance
-from his pedestal—my Rembrandt—Claude—and Rubens flickering in softness
-in the firelight—the Fornarina and St. Cecilia with vase of incense
-clasped, and upturned eyes of deep devotion, hanging in the same placid
-stillness between their silken tassels, and that Æolian harp chiming just
-such wild and fitful strains—’twas in just such a cold and inhospitable
-night, that, sitting with my legs extended upon the fender, I fell into a
-train of rather melancholy musings.
-
-The clock of St. Paul’s slowly doled out the hour of midnight, and
-it seemed as if in the responsive, al-l’-s-w-e-l-l of the watchman,
-rendered indistinct by the distance, the spirit of the hour was
-bewailing in plaintive tones the annihilation of its being. Time’s
-brazen voice announced to unheeding thousands—“Ye are rushing on
-eternity.” I thought of my friends who had dropped off one by one,
-from around me,—youth and old age had alike sunk into the abyss of
-death—consumption—fever—palsy—had done their work; the slight ripple of
-their exit had subsided, and all was still—as quiet and as beautiful as
-if they had never been. Among others, was poor Louisa S——, in the prime
-of her youth, and the bloom of her beauty. But one short week—she was
-the pride of her friends, the idol of her husband;—in another, the slow
-toll of the village bell announced her funeral. I shall never forget
-the scene. The soft yellow light of the declining sun was streaming
-through the lofty elms which bordered the rustic grave-yard, painting
-their broad shadows on the velvet turf, as the procession of mourners
-slowly wended their way among the mounds which covered the decaying
-remnants of mortality. Leaning upon a tomb-stone near the fresh dug
-grave, I had awaited its arrival. The bier was placed upon the ground—the
-coffin-lid was thrown open, and friends looked for the last time upon
-the beautiful face, pallid and sharp in death. Her dark hair was parted
-upon her forehead,—but the dampness of death had deprived it of its
-lustre, and her soft eyes were closed in the slumber from whence they
-were never again to wake. I gazed long and painfully upon that face
-which appeared to repose only in serene and tranquil sleep, while the
-sobbing group reached forward to catch a last and parting glimpse of it
-in its loveliness. Oh! I could not realize that the lovely form was still
-forever—that those lips were to remain closed, till the day, when amid
-whirlwinds and fire, they were to plead her cause before the Almighty.
-The coffin-lid was replaced in silence—a suppressed whisper from the
-sexton—a harsh grating of the cords, and the gaping pit received its
-prey. While the clergyman in his deep and gloomy voice, was pronouncing
-the burial service of the dead, I looked around upon the uncovered
-group,—the mother and sister in unrestrained sobs, gave vent to their
-anguish, but the husband stood, his eyes fixed upon the grave in deep and
-silent agony. He moved not, but when the dead heavy clamp of earth and
-stones fell upon the coffin, which contained the remains of all that was
-dear to him, he gave a gasp, as if he had received a death wound—but that
-was all;—the thick, convulsive breathing, and the swollen arteries upon
-his temples, showed that his was the bitterness of despair. Ere long, his
-wasted form beneath its own green hillock, rested at her side.
-
-I had sat some time, thinking “of all the miseries that this world is
-heir to,” when gradually, my room became mazy, the tongs and fender were
-blended into one—the fire slowly disappeared, and, to my utter horror and
-astonishment, I found myself swinging upon the weather-cock of Trinity
-Church steeple.—How I came there, I could not tell, but there I was. Far,
-far below me, I saw the long rows of lamps in Broadway and the adjoining
-streets, shining in lines of fire; while here and there the glimmer of
-those upon the carriages, as they rolled along, resembled the ignis fatui
-in their ghostly revels upon the morass. The bay lay in the distance,
-glittering in the moonlight, a sea of silver, the islands and fortresses
-like huge monsters resting upon its bosom. All nature appeared at rest.
-An instant, and but an instant, I gazed in wild delight upon the scene;
-but as the novelty vanished, the dreadful reality of my situation became
-apparent. I looked above me—the stars were trembling in the realms of
-space. I looked below, and shuddered at the distance—I tried to believe
-that I was in a dream—but that relief was denied me. I grew wild with
-fear—I madly called for help—I screamed—I yelled in desperation. Alas!
-my voice could not be heard one half the distance to earth. I called
-on angels—Heaven, to assist me,—but the cold wind alone answered, as
-it rushed around the steeple in its whistle of contempt. As my animal
-spirits were exhausted, I became more calm. I perceived that the slender
-iron upon which the weather-cock was fixed was slowly bending with the
-weight of my body, already benumbed with cold. Although it was madness,
-I ventured a descent. Moving with extreme caution, I clasped the spire
-in my arms—I slid down inch by inch. The cold sweat poured off my brow,
-and the blood curdling in my veins, rushed back in thick and suffocating
-throbs upon my heart. I grasped the steeple tighter in my agony—my nails
-were clenched in the wood—but in vain; slip—slip—the steeple enlarged
-as I descended—my hold relaxed—the flat palms of my hands pressed the
-sides, as I slid down with frightful rapidity. Could I but catch the
-ledge below! I succeeded—I clutched it in my bleeding fingers—for a
-moment I thought that I was safe, but I swung over the immense height
-in an instant; the wind dashed me from side to side like a feather. I
-strove to touch the sides of the steeple with my knees—I could not reach
-it—my strength began to fail—I felt the muscles of my fingers growing
-weaker. The blackness of despair came over me. My fingers slid from the
-ledge—down—down I plunged—one dash upon the roof, and I was stretched
-motionless upon the pavement.
-
-A crowd collected around me. I heard them commiserating my fate. They
-looked at me, and then at the steeple, as if measuring the distance from
-whence I had fallen; but they offered me no assistance. They dispersed—I
-slowly raised myself on my feet—all was cold and still as the grave.
-Regions of ice—an immense transparent mirror, extended on every side
-around me. The cold, smooth plain, was only measured by the horizon.
-I found myself on skates;—I rushed along, outstripping the winds,—I
-ascended mountains of ice,—I descended like a meteor—Russia, with her
-frozen torrents,—Siberia with its eternal snows, were behind me,—miles
-and degrees were nothing—on I rushed,—Iceland vanished,—with the speed of
-a thunderbolt I passed Spitzbergen,—days, weeks expired, but still I sped
-forward, without fatigue, without exhaustion. How delightfully I glided
-along—no effort—no exertion—all was still, cold, and brilliant. I neared
-the pole,—the explorers were slowly wending their tedious way,—they
-hailed me, but I could not stop,—I was out of sight in an instant. I saw
-an immense object swinging to and fro in the distance—it was the great
-and mighty pendulum. As I neared it, a confused noise of voices broke
-upon my ear,—mathematical terms echoed and re-echoed each other, like the
-hum of a bee-hive. I was surrounded with winged chronometers, barometers
-and magnets—plus, (+) minus (-) and the roots (√ √) were flying around me
-in every direction, jostling each other without mercy. Great long-legged
-compasses with knowing look were gravely listening to the measured tick
-of prim chronometers, and groups of angles and parallelograms watched
-the variations of the needle. Every instrument of science appeared
-collected in solemn conclave, for great and mighty purpose,—but soon all
-was hubbub and confusion. The compasses and Gunther’s scale had come to
-blows. Angles and triangles, oblongs and cones, formed a ring around
-them. Little cylinders and circles came rolling in from every quarter
-to see the fun, and bottle-holding squares and cubes stood stoutly at
-their champions’ sides, while electric jars mounted on a neighbouring
-dial, in highest glee, spirited forth whole streams of snapping sparks
-to incite them in the contest. The scale was down, and the compass
-bestrode him in proud defiance; but the bottle-holders interfering, all
-was instant uproar and confusion, and the fight soon became one common
-melée. Pins flew about, and springs and wheels went whizzing through the
-throng, but amid the tumult, suddenly appeared a huge electrical machine,
-grinding wrathfully along, and soon the field was cleared, and nought was
-seen save here and there some limping figure hobbling off in desperate
-precipitation. But amid the uproar, the giant pendulum still swung
-forward and backward with the noiseless motion of the incubus;—I neared
-it and saw that the top of the huge rod was riveted by the pole star,
-which shone with the intensity of the diamond. But—but—
-
-I saw the ship approaching among the distant icebergs—the great lordly
-icebergs,—how they rolled and roared and ground against each other in
-the heavy surge!—their huge sides now shining great sheets of silver—now
-glancing with the deep blue of the precious sapphire, now quivering
-in the sun’s rays, with all the hues of the grass-green emerald and
-blazing ruby,—ha! I saw her—I saw the gallant ship threading her way
-among them, as their castellated sides towered mountain-like above her.
-I made one spring—one gallant spring—and catching by her top-mast, slid
-down in safety to her decks. Her sails were spread widely to the winds
-and recklessly we ploughed our course onward through the icy flood;—but
-now her speed diminished—now we scarcely moved. The rudder creaked
-lazily from side to side, and the long pennant supinely resting on the
-shrouds, languidly lifted itself as if to peer into the dark flood,
-and then serpent-like, settled itself again to its repose. A sullen
-distant roar began to break upon my ear,—it increased,—our before quiet
-bark, hastening, rushed onwards as if ashamed of her dull reverie; but
-still there was no wind—the sea was smooth and placid, but the swelling
-surge was thrown forward from her bows, by the increasing velocity
-with which we dashed along. The rushing noise of waters increased, and
-sounded like distant thunder; the white surges showed themselves in the
-distance, leaping and jumping with frightful violence. I approached
-the captain;—his gloomy brow—the ghastly paleness of the crew, as with
-folded arms they stood looking in the distance, alarmed me. I eagerly
-asked the cause of the appearances before me,—he answered not,—he stood
-immoveable as a statue:—but, in a cold unearthly voice, a scar-marked
-sailor groaned, “We are food for the Maelstroom!”—Can we not, I
-franticly exclaimed—oh! can we not escape? Bend every sail—ply every
-oar,—“Too late—too late,” echoed again the gloomy voice—“our doom is
-sealed;”—and the finger of the speaker pointed to a dark fiendish figure
-at the helm, who, with a low hellish laugh, was steering for the midst.
-The raging waves boiled and roared around us,—our fated ship plunged
-forward—a steady resistless power sucked us in,—on we were hurried to
-our frightful goal. The whale—the leviathan, swept by us—their immense
-bodies were thrown almost entirely in the air,—their blood stained the
-foaming brine—they roared like mad bulls. The zigzag lightning in the
-black canopy above us, was reflected in fiery showers from the spray—the
-crashing thunder mingled with the yells of the struggling monsters—their
-efforts were vain—more power had infants in giants’ hands,—the devouring
-whirlpool claimed us for its own. On we were borne in unresisting
-weakness—faster and faster,—circle after circle disappeared,—we were on
-the edge of the furious watery tunnel,—we were buried in its depths,—the
-long arms of the loathsome polypi stretched forward to seize us in their
-foul embrace—but an unseen hand raised me.
-
-Green woods—gardens, fountains, and grottoes were around me. Beautiful
-flowers—roses—hyacinths, and lilies clustering in immense beds, covered
-the ground with one great gem’d and emerald carpet. The gorgeous tulip,
-the amaranthus and moss rose vied with each other in fragrant rivalry,
-and the modest little violet, claimed protection in the embraces of the
-myrtle. Fountains poured mimic cataracts into their marble basins, or,
-spouting from the mouths of sphinxes and lions, ascended in crystal
-streams, irrigating with copious showers the party-coloured beds beneath.
-The long vistas were shaded with the magnolia and flowering almond, while
-snow-white statues watched the beautiful picture of happiness around.
-Birds of variegated colour and splendid plumage were flying from tree to
-tree, and it appeared as if in their sweet notes, and the fragrance of
-the flowers, nature was offering up her incense to the Creator.
-
-I was invigorated with new life—I ran from alley to alley—delicious
-fruits tempted my taste—the perfumes of Arabia floated in the earthly
-paradise,—music floated around,—trains of beautiful girls moved in
-graceful ballets before me,—their slender forms were clad in snow-white
-robes,—their girdles gemmed with diamonds—their alabaster necks twined
-with wreaths of roses.—A joyous laugh burst from them, as they danced—now
-in circles—now advancing—now retreating. The circle opened,—a veiled
-figure was in the midst,—I approached—the fairies disappeared,—the veil
-was slowly lifted,—one moment—my Cora!—we were alone,—we wandered from
-bower to bower—her small white hand with electric touch, was within my
-delighted grasp,—her golden ringlets mingled with my raven locks—her
-dark eyes melted into mine. I fell upon my knee—a cold and grizzly
-skeleton met my embrace—the groups of houris were changed into bands of
-shrivelled hags;—in place of wreaths of roses, their shrivelled necks
-were covered with the deadly nightshade and dark mandragora—forked adders
-and serpents twined upon their long and bony arms,—I shuddered,—I was
-chained in horror to the spot,—they seized me—they dragged me downward
-to the dank and noisome vault.—’Twas light as day—but ’twas a strange
-light—a greenish haze—sickly and poisonous as if the deadly miasma of the
-fens had turned to flame. The dead men with burning lamps were sitting
-on their coffins,—their chins resting upon their drawn up knees, and as
-I passed along the extended rows, their eyes all turned and followed me,
-as the eyes of portraits from the canvass. Ha! what cadaverous unearthly
-stare met me at every turn;—I looked on all sides to avoid them, but
-still, where’er I turned, the ghastly muffled faces with their blanched
-lips, and deep sunken eyes livid in their sockets, surveyed me with
-frightful interest,—and that fierce old hag—how she preceded me—step
-by step—her finger pointing forward, while her Medusa head was turned
-triumphantly over her shoulder, with its infernal leer upon my cowering
-form.—Worlds would I have given to have been out from among the ghastly
-crew—but a spell was on me—and I hurriedly made the circuit of the
-vault, like a wild beast in his cage. But the old knight, sitting grim
-and ghastly as if by constraint, in the lone corner, his long grizzly
-beard flowing o’er his winding-sheet,—O! how his cold grey eye glanced
-at his long two handed sword before him, as I passed, as if to clutch
-it,—I plucked the old greybeard for very ire—ha! what a malignant and
-discordant yell did then salute my horror-struck senses,—I gave one bound
-of terror—and burst the prison door—and—and—
-
-My noble white charger leaped clear of the earth, as he felt my
-weight in the saddle,—I was at the head of an immense army—my bold
-cuirassiers formed a moving mass of iron around me. The bugle sounded
-the signal for engagement;—peal after peal of musketry flashed from
-the dark masses,—the rattling reverberating roar rolled from right to
-left,—the gaping throats of the cannon, announced in broad flashes,
-the departure of their messengers upon the journey of death. On we
-rushed—battalion on battalion,—we stormed the redoubt,—“Charge,” I
-shouted,—“Charge the villains—men of the fifth legion—follow your
-leader—hurrah—they bear back.”—I seized the standard from a fallen
-soldier,—I planted it upon the blood-stained parapet—horrible
-confusion!—the trenches were choked with dead—Hah! brave comrade
-beware!—his bayonet is at thy shoulder—’tis buried in thy heart.—I will
-revenge thee!—I dashed upon him,—we fought like tigers,—we rolled upon
-the ground,—I seized my dagger—the bright steel glittered—thousands of
-deep hoarse voices wildly roared—“The mine—the mine—beware—beware!”
-Flash—roar—bodies—earth—rocks—horses—tumbrils,—all descending, covered
-me—and—and
-
-I awoke—the fender and fire-irons upset with horrid din and clatter—the
-table, its lights and tea-set hurled around—and myself with might and
-main striving with mighty effort to get from beneath the prostrate wreck
-which in my terror I had dragged above me.—Old Neptune, aghast, howling
-in consternation, from the corner, while a group of fellow-boarders, half
-dead with laughter and amazement, were staring through the open door in
-wonder at such unusual uproar from the lodger in quiet “No. VI.”
-
-
-
-
-LONG ISLAND SOUND.
-
-
-But hark! Old Scipio is fast asleep and snoring like Falstaff behind
-the arras. Now that old negro is as assuredly dreaming of witches, or
-wrecks, or pirates, or ghosts, that have been seen flitting about the
-burying-grounds and country church-yards at midnight, as he sits there.
-He is somewhere between eighty and one hundred, he does not exactly know
-which; but as your negro keeps no family record, it is safe to allow a
-lee-way of some ten years in the calculation of his nativity. Of his
-genealogy though, he is quite sure, for he proves beyond a doubt, that
-he is the son of Job, who was the son of Pomp, who was the son of Caleb,
-who was the son of Cæsar, who was the son of Cudjoe, who was caught in
-Africa. His whole life has been passed in and about the shores of Long
-Island Sound, and he is not only a veritable chronicle of the military
-adventures that have been enacted upon its borders in the American wars,
-but his head is a complete storehouse, stuffed to overflowing with all
-sorts of legendary lore, of wrecks, of pirates, of murders and fights,
-and deeds unholy—of massacres, bombardments and burnings, all jumbled
-up in such inexplicable confusion, history and legend, truth and
-fiction, that it is almost impossible to divide the one from the other.
-Sometimes in the cold winter nights, when the storm is howling, as it
-does now, I put him upon the track, and upon my word, the influence of
-his gossip told in drowsy under tone is such, that I find it a matter of
-serious question, whether the most monstrous things in the way of the
-supernatural, are by any means matter of wonderment; and fully concede,
-that men may have been seen walking about with their heads under their
-arms, vanishing in smoke upon being addressed—that old fishermen have
-sculled about the creeks and bays in their coffins, after they were dead
-and buried—that gibbets are of necessity surrounded by ghosts, and that
-prophecies and predictions, and witchcraft are, and must be true as holy
-writ.
-
-Indeed, with all the sad realities of life about me, I find it refreshing
-to have my soul let loose occasionally, to wander forth, to frolic and
-gambol, and stare, without any conventional rule, or let, or hindrance
-to restrain it. In how many adventures has that good old negro, quietly
-sleeping in the corner, been my guide and pilot. In our shooting, and
-fishing and sailing excursions, the shores of the Sound became as
-familiar to us as our own firesides, and the dark black rocks, with their
-round and kelp covered sides as the faces of old friends and acquaintance.
-
-At a little village upon its western borders I passed my school-boy
-days, and there it was that the old negro, formerly a slave, but long
-liberated and in part supported by my family, had his hut. There it was
-that under his influence I thoroughly contracted the love of adventure
-which, in the retrospect still throws a sort of world of my own around
-me. All sport, whether in winter or summer, night or day, rain or shine,
-was alike to me the same, and sooth to say, if sundry floorings, for
-truant days had been administered to Old Scip instead of me, the scale
-of justice had not unduly preponderated; for his boats, and rods, and
-nets, to say nothing of his musket which had belonged to a Hessian, and
-the long bell-mouthed French fusee were always sedulously and invitingly
-placed at my control. The old negro was sure to meet me as I bounded
-from the school-room with advice of how the tides would serve, and how
-the game would lie, and his words winding up his information in a low
-confidential under-tone still ring upon my ear, “P’rhaps young massa like
-to go wid old nigger.”
-
-His snug little hut down at the Creek side was covered and patched and
-thatched with all the experiments of years to add to its warmth and
-comfort. Its gables and chimney surmounted with little weather-cocks
-and windmills spinning most furiously at every whiff of wind, its sides
-covered with muskrat and loon skins nailed up to dry, and fishing rods
-and spears of all sizes and dimensions piled against them, the ducks
-and geese paddling about the threshold and his great fat hog grunting in
-loving proximity to the door way, while its interior was garnished with
-pots and kettles, and other culinary utensils; the trusty old musket
-hanging on its hooks above the chimney place; the fish nets and bird
-decoys lying in the corners, and the white-washed walls garnished and
-covered with pictures, and coloured prints of the most negro taste indigo
-and scarlet,—naval fights—men hanging on gibbets,—monstrous apparitions
-which had been seen—lamentable ballads, and old Satan himself in
-veritable semblance, tail, horns and claws, precisely as he had appeared
-in the year Anno Domini, 1763; and under the little square mahogany
-framed fly specked looking-glass, his Satanic Majesty again in full
-scarlet uniform as British Colonel with a party of ladies and gentlemen
-playing cards, his tail quietly curled around one of the legs of his arm
-chair, and the horse hoof ill disguised by the great rose upon his shoe.
-But Scip’ was safe against all such diabolic influence, for he had the
-charmed horse shoe firmly nailed over the entrance of his door.
-
-Oh! how often have I silently climbed out of my window and stealthily
-crept down the ladder which passed it, long and long before the dawn,
-with my fowling piece upon my shoulder, and by the fitful moonlight
-wended, half scared, my way through the rustic roads and lanes, leaping
-the fences, saturated to the middle with the night-dew from the long
-wet grass, the stars twinkling in the heavens, as the wild scudding
-clouds passed o’er them, and nothing to break the perfect stillness. How
-often at such times have I stopped and stared at some suspicious object
-looming up before me, till, mustering courage, I have cocked my piece and
-advancing at a trail, discovered in the object of my terror, a dozing
-horse, or patient ox, or cow quietly ruminating at the road side.
-
-How often have I sprung suddenly aside, my hair standing on end, as a
-stealthy fox or prowling dog rushed by me into the bushes, and felt
-my blood tingle to my very fingers’ ends, as some bird of prey raised
-himself with an uneasy scream and settled again upon the tree tops, as I
-passed beneath. How I used to screw my courage up, as with long strides
-and studiously averted eyes, I hurried past the dreaded grave yard; and
-as I came upon the borders of the winding creek, and walked splashing
-through its ponds and shallows, how would I crouch and scan through the
-dim light to catch a glimpse of some stray flock of ducks or teal, that
-might be feeding upon its sedges. How would I bend and stoop as I saw
-them delightfully huddled in a cluster, till getting near I would find an
-envious bend of long distance to be measured before I could get a shot.
-How patiently would I creep along—and stop—and crouch—and stop, till
-getting near, and nearer—a sudden slump into some unseen bog or ditch
-would be followed by a quick “quack”—“quack”—and off they’d go—far out
-of reach of shot or call. But all would be forgotten when I reached the
-old Negro’s hut. There a hot corn cake and broiled fish or bird, was
-always on the coals to stay my appetite—and then off we’d sally to the
-Bar to lie in wait for the wild fowl as they came over it at day break.
-The snipe in little clouds would start up with their sharp “pewhit”
-before us, as we measured the broad hard flats left damp and smooth
-by the receding tide; the Kildare with querulous cry would wing away
-his flight, and the great gaunt cranes, looming, spectre-like, in the
-moonlight, sluggishly stalking onwards, would clumsily lift their long
-legs in silence as we advanced, and fan themselves a little farther from
-our proximity.
-
-Arriving, we would lay ourselves down, and on the stones await the
-breaking of the dawn, when the wild-fowl feeding within the bay arise
-and fly to the south-ward over it. Dark objects, one after another,
-would glide by us, and in silence take their places along the bar, bent
-on the same sport that we were awaiting, and nothing would break the
-stillness save the gentle wash and ripple of the waves upon the sands,
-or the uneasy and discordant cry of the oldwives, feeding on the long
-sedge within the wide-extended bay. The stars would ere long begin to
-fade, the east grow grey, then streaked with light, and every sportsman’s
-piece be cocked with eager expectation. A flash—a puff of smoke at the
-extreme end, showed that a flock had risen, and simultaneously birds
-would be seen tumbling headlong. As the astonished flock glanced along
-the bar—flash—flash—puff—bang, would meet them, their numbers thinning
-at each discharge, till passing along the whole line of sportsmen,
-they would be almost annihilated; or wildly dashing through some wider
-interval in the chain of gunners, they would cross the bar and escape
-in safety. Then as the light increased followed the excitement; the
-birds getting up in dense flocks, all bent in one direction, a complete
-feu-de-joie saluted them—flash—flash—flash—the reports creeping slowly
-after, the wild-fowl tumbling headlong, some into the water, and some
-upon the sportsmen; while here a gunner, dropping his piece, might be
-seen rushing in up to his neck recklessly after his victim, and there
-some staunch dog’s nose just above the surface, unweariedly pursuing the
-wing-broken sufferer, which still fluttered forward at his near approach.
-Ah, ha! that—that was sport. Hundreds of wild-fowl, from the little
-graceful teal to the great fishy loon and red-head brant, were the fruits
-of the morning’s adventure. And what a contrast the sparkling eyes and
-glowing faces of the elated sportsmen to the city’s pale and care-worn
-countenances. They were a true democracy, white man, and black, and
-half-breed, the squire and the ploughman, all met in like equality.
-
-Among the sportsmen on the bar at the season that I have just described,
-there was always found a tall, gaunt, and extremely taciturn old Indian,
-who passed among the people by the name of “Pequot.” His hut was about a
-mile beyond Scipio’s, on the same creek, and like him, he obtained his
-support mainly by the fruits of his hunting and fishing. Now and then, in
-the harvest, or when the game was scarce, he would assist the farmers in
-their lighter work, receiving, with neither thanks nor stipulation, such
-recompense as they saw fit to make; and sometimes, in the cold depths
-of winter, he would appear, and silently sitting at their firesides,
-receive, as a sort of right, his trencher at their tables. He was so kind
-in his assistance, and so inoffensive to all around him, that he was
-always sure of welcome. But there was a marked feature in his character,
-and one most unusual to the Indian’s nature, which was his dislike,
-almost to loathing, of ardent spirits. He was a great deal at Scipio’s
-hut, and I was strongly struck (boy as I was) with the harmony which
-subsisted between two characters so apparently dissimilar—the sullen,
-almost haughty Indian, and the light-hearted, laughter-loving negro; but
-there was a sort of common sympathy—of oppression, I suppose—between
-them, for they always assisted one another; and sometimes I have known
-them gone for days together in their fishing expeditions on the Sound.
-All the information that Scipio could give me about him, was that he had
-been the same ever since he had known him, that he was supposed to have
-come in from some of the Western tribes, and that from his haunting a
-great deal about a neighbouring swamp, where the gallant tribe of Pequots
-had, long years before, been massacred by fire and sword, the people
-had given him the name of Pequot. Whatever he was, he was a noble old
-Indian; the poetry of the character was left, while contact with the
-whites, and the kind teachings of the Moravians had hewn away the sterner
-features of the savage. I remember that I used to look at him, with all a
-boy’s enthusiasm, admiring him with a mingled sense of sympathy and awe.
-Even old Scip showed him habitual deference, for there was a melancholy
-dignity about him; and his words, short and sententious, were delivered
-with scrupulous exactness. I recollect once being completely taken aback
-by the display of a sudden burst of feeling, which completely let me into
-his ideal claims and imaginary pretensions.
-
-There was a good-natured old Indian, by the name of Pamanack, belonging
-to one of the tribes which still clung to Long Island, in the vicinity of
-Montaukett, who occasionally made his appearance off old Scip’s hut, in
-the Sound, in his periogue, accompanied by some half dozen long-legged,
-straight-haired, copper-coloured youths, his descendants. They every now
-and then came cruising along the various fishing-grounds, and always,
-when in the vicinity of Scip, the old Indian would pay him a visit,
-and receive a return for the hospitality paid to the black man, when,
-in his similar excursions, he got as far eastward as Montaukett. On the
-particular occasion to which I have alluded, old Pamanack had drank more
-than was good for him, when the Pequot presented himself silently at the
-door of Scipio’s hut, and leaning upon his long ducking-gun, looked in
-upon the group. After a few words of recognition passed between them,
-Pamanack held out his black bottle, and invited the visiter to drink.
-Pequot drew himself up to his extreme height, and for a moment there was
-a mingled expression of loathing, abhorrence, and ferocity, flashing
-from his countenance that showed that his whole Indian’s nature was
-in a blaze; but it was only momentary, for in another, the expression
-vanished from his countenance, the habitual melancholy resumed its place
-upon his features, and the words fell slowly, almost musically, from his
-lips:—“The fire water—the fire water—ay, the same—the Indian and his
-deadly enemy.” Then looking steadily at Pamanack, as he held the bottle
-still towards him:—“Pequot will not drink. Why should Pamanack swallow
-the white man’s poison, and with his own hands dig his grave?
-
-“Pamanack is not alone! His squaw watches at the door of his wigwam,
-as she looks out upon the long waves of the ocean tumbling in upon the
-shores of Montaukett. His young men gather about him and catch the
-tautug from its huge beetling rocks, and tread out the quahog from
-its muddy bed. His old men still linger on the sandy beach, and their
-scalp-locks float wildly in the fresh sea-breeze. Pamanack has yet a
-home:—but Pequot—he is the last of his race. He stands on the high hills
-of Tashaway, and he sees no smoke but that from the wigwams of the Long
-Knives. He moves in silence along the plains of Pequonnuck,—but the
-fences of the pale faces obstruct his progress. His canoe dances at the
-side of the dripping rocks,—but the cheating white men paddle up to his
-side. His feet sink in the ploughed field,—but it is not the corn of the
-red man. His squaw has rolled her last log, and lies cold in her blanket.
-His young men,—the fire water and fire dust have consumed them. Pequot
-looks around for his people—where are they? The black snake and muskrat
-shoot through the water as his moccasin treads the swamp, where their
-bones lie, deep covered from the hate of their enemies. Pequot is the
-last of his race! Pamanack is good, but the heart of Pequot is heavy.
-He cannot drink the fire water, for his young men have sunk from its
-deadly poison, as the mist-wreath in the midday sun. The good Moravians
-have told him that it is bad—and Pequot will drink no more—for his race
-is nearly run. Pequot will sit on the high rocks of Sasco, and his robe
-shall fall from his shoulders as his broad chest waits the death-arrow
-of the Great Spirit. There will he sit and smoke in silence as he looks
-down upon the deserted hunting-grounds of his fathers. Pequot’s heart is
-heavy,—Pequot will not drink.” As he finished the last words, he abruptly
-turned, and was soon far distant on the sands, moving towards the high
-hill of which he had spoken. The Great Spirit was kind to him, for a few
-years after he was found stark and stiff, frozen to death on the very
-rocks to which he had alluded. As for old Pamanack, he did not appear to
-hold the fire water in such utter abhorrence; for, taking a long swig at
-the bottle, his eye following the retiring form of the Pequot, he slowly
-muttered, “Nigger drink—white man drink—why no Indian drink too?”
-
-But the Sound! the Sound! Oh! how many delightful reminiscences does the
-name bring to my recollection. The Sound! with its white sand banks,
-and its wooded shores—its far broad bosom, covered with fleets of sails
-scudding along in the swift breeze in the open day, and its dark waves
-rolling and sweeping in whole streams of phosphorescent fire from their
-plunging bows as they dash through it in the darkness of midnight.
-The Sound! redolent with military story. The Sound! overflowing with
-supernatural legend and antiquated history. Oh! reader, if you had been
-cruising along its shores from infancy, as I have, if you had grown up
-among its legends, and luxuriated in its wild associations,—if you had
-spent whole days on its broad sand beaches, watching the gulls as they
-sailed above you, or the snipe as they ran along on the smooth hard
-flats,—if you had lain on the white frozen snows on its shore in the
-still nights of mid-winter, your gun by your side, gazing till your soul
-was lost in the blue spangled vault, as it hung in serene and tranquil
-grandeur above you, your mind, in unconscious adoration, breathing whole
-volumes of gratitude and admiration to the great God that gave you
-faculties to enjoy its sublimity; and in the stillness, unbroken save by
-the cry of the loon as he raised himself from the smooth water, seen in
-every sail moving in silence between you and the horizon the “Phantom
-Ship,” or some daring bucaneer, and in every distant splash heard a deed
-of darkness and mystery, then could you enter into my feelings.
-
-Oh! to me its black rocks and promontories, and islands, are as familiar
-as the faces of a family. Are there not the “Brothers,” unnatural that
-they are, who, living centuries together, never to one another have
-as yet spoken a kindly word,—and the great savage “Executioners,” and
-“Throgs,” and “Sands,” and “Etons,” all throwing hospitable lights from
-their high beacon towers, far forward, to guide the wandering mariner;
-and the “Devil’s Stepping-stones,” o’er which he bounded when driven
-from Connecticut; and the great rocks too, inside of Flushing bay on
-which he descended, shivering them from top to bottom as he fell. And
-are there not the “Norwalk Islands,” with their pines—“Old Sasco,”
-with her rocks,—“Fairweather,” with the wild bird’s eggs deep buried
-in her sands,—and the far-famed fishing-banks off the “Middle ground.”
-Ay! and is it not from the fierce boiling whirlpools of the “Gate” “to
-Gardiners,” and the lone beacon tower of “Old Montaukett,” one continuous
-ground of thrilling lore and bold adventure. In her waters the “Fire
-ship” glared amid the darkness, her phantom crew, like red hot statues,
-standing at their quarters, as rushing onwards, in the furious storm,
-she passed the shuddering mariner, leaving, comet like, long streams of
-flame behind. Beneath her sands the red-shirted bucaneers did hide their
-ill-gotten, blood-bespotted treasure. Ay! and ’twas on her broad bosom
-that, with iron-seared conscience sailed that pirate, fierce and bold,
-old Robert Kidd; and to this very day his golden hoards, with magic mark
-and sign, still crowd her wooded shores.
-
-Hah! ha! how, were he waking, old Scipio’s eyes would upward roll
-their whites, if he did but hear that name so dread and grim. If, from
-very eagerness, he could utter forth his words, he would give whole
-chapters—ay—one from his own family history—for Kidd’s men caught old
-Cudjoe, his great ancestor, clamming on the beach off Sasco, and without
-more ado carried him aboard. As the old negro was sulky, they tumbled
-his well-filled basket into the galley’s tank, and incontinently were
-about to run him up to dangle at their long yard-arm, when Kidd, who
-was taking his morning “drink of tobacco” on his poop, roared out,
-in voice of thunder, “Ho! Scroggs—boatswain—dost hang a black-a-moor
-at my yard-arm, where so many gentlemen have danced on nothing?—In
-the foul devil’s name, scuttle the goggled-eyed fiend to the sharks
-overboard,”—and overboard he went, but diving like a duck, he escaped
-their firelocks’ quick discharge, and reached the shore in safety.
-
-Ay! and his deep buried treasures! Where went the gold dust from the
-coast of Guinea?—the gems from Madagascar?—where the dollars and
-doubloons pirated from the Spanish galleons?—the broken plate and
-crucifixes from the shores of Panama?—and where the good yellow gold,
-stamped with the visage of his most gracious majesty?—where! where, but
-on the haunted borders of this very Sound. Why, the very school-boys,
-playing in the woods upon its shores, know when the earth doth hollow
-sound beneath their feet, that Kidd’s treasure’s buried there. Do they
-disturb it? No—not they—they know too well the fierce and restless spirit
-that guards the iron pot. Didst ever hear the brave old ballad—“_As
-he sail’d, as he sail’d?_” It’s a glorious old ballad—it’s a true old
-ballad—and a time-honoured old ballad—it gives his veritable history. It
-has been printed in black letter, and sung time out of mind. It has been
-chanted by the old tars in sultry calms of the tropics, and the greasy
-whalers have kept time to it over their trying kettles on the smooth
-Pacific. It has been sung amid the icebergs of Greenland, and heard on
-the coast of New Holland; the spicy breezes of Ceylon have borne it among
-the sleeping tigers in their jungles, and the Hottentots have pulled
-tighter their breech-cloths as they have listened to its tones. The
-Chinese, and the Turks, and the Dutchmen, and the Danes, and every thing
-human within the smell of salt water, have heard it,—ay! and that too in
-the rich manly tones of the English and American sailors. Ho! Scip!—wake
-from out thy corner, and give us the old ballad. Shades of red-capped
-bucaneers!—fierce negro slavers!—spirits of the gallant men who fought
-the British on her shores!—desperate old Kidd in person!—we conjure
-you—we conjure you—arise and hover around us, whilst we chaunt the lay.
-Ho! Scipio!—the old ballad, as it stood smoke-blacked, and grimed upon
-thy cabin’s walls—ay! that is it—and in tones which chimed well in unison
-with the dreary storm and howling blast without.
-
-
-“YE LAMENTABLE BALLAD, AND YE TRUE HISTORIE OF CAPTAINE ROBERT KIDD, WHO
-WAS HANGED IN CHAINS AT EXECUTION DOCK, FOR PIRACY AND MURDER ON YE HIGH
-SEAS.”
-
-[Sidenote: He calleth upon the captains:]
-
-    You captains bold and brave, hear our cries, hear our cries,
-      You captains bold and brave, hear our cries,
-    You captains brave and bold, tho’ you seem uncontroll’d,
-      Don’t for the sake of gold lose your souls, lose your souls,
-              Don’t for the sake of gold lose your souls.
-
-[Sidenote: He stateth his name and acknowledgeth his wickedness:]
-
-    My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail’d, when I sail’d,
-      My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail’d,
-    My name was Robert Kidd, God’s laws I did forbid,
-      And so wickedly I did, when I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: He beareth witness to the good counsel of his parents:]
-
-    My parents taught me well, when I sail’d, when I sail’d,
-      My parents taught me well, when I sail’d,
-    My parents taught me well to shun the gates of hell,
-      But against them I rebell’d when I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: He curseth his father and his mother dear:]
-
-    I cursed my father dear, when I sail’d, when I sail’d,
-      I cursed my father dear, when I sail’d,
-    I cursed my father dear and her that did me bear,
-      And so wickedly did swear, when I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: And blasphemeth against God:]
-
-    I made a solemn vow when I sail’d, when I sail’d,
-      I made a solemn vow when I sail’d,
-    I made a solemn vow, to God I would not bow,
-      Nor myself one prayer allow, as I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: He burieth the Good Book in sand:]
-
-    I’d a Bible in my hand when I sail’d, when I sail’d,
-      I’d a Bible in my hand when I sail’d,
-    I’d a Bible in my hand by my father’s great command,
-      And I sunk it in the sand, when I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: And murdereth William Moore:]
-
-    I murdered William Moore, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,
-      I murdered William Moore, as I sail’d,
-    I murdered William Moore, and left him in his gore,
-      Not many leagues from shore as I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: And also cruelly killeth the gunner.]
-
-    And being cruel still, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,
-      And being cruel still, as I sail’d,
-    And being cruel still, my gunner I did kill,
-      And his precious blood did spill, as I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: His mate, being about to die, repenteth and warneth him in his
-career.]
-
-    My mate was sick and died as I sail’d, as I sail’d,
-      My mate was sick and died as I sail’d,
-    My mate was sick and died, which me much terrified,
-      When he called me to his bedside as I sail’d.
-
-    And unto me he did say, see me die, see me die,
-      And unto me did say see me die,
-    And unto me did say, take warning now by me,
-      There comes a reckoning day, you must die.
-
-    You cannot then withstand, when you die, when you die,
-      You cannot then withstand when you die,
-    You cannot then withstand the judgments of God’s hand,
-      But bound then in iron bands, you must die.
-
-[Sidenote: He falleth sick, and promiseth repentance, but forgetteth his
-vows.]
-
-    I was sick and nigh to death, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,
-      I was sick and nigh to death as I sail’d,
-    And I was sick and nigh to death, and I vowed at every breath
-      To walk in wisdom’s ways as I sail’d.
-
-    I thought I was undone as I sail’d, as I sail’d,
-      I thought I was undone as I sail’d,
-    I thought I was undone and my wicked glass had run,
-      But health did soon return as I sail’d.
-
-    My repentance lasted not, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,
-      My repentance lasted not, as I sail’d,
-    My repentance lasted not, my vows I soon forgot,
-      Damnation’s my just lot, as I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: He steereth thro’ _Long Island_ and other Sounds.]
-
-    I steer’d from Sound to Sound, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,
-      I steer’d from Sound to Sound, as I sail’d,
-    I steer’d from Sound to Sound, and many ships I found
-      And most of them I burn’d as I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: He chaseth three ships of France.]
-
-    I spy’d three ships from France, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,
-      I spy’d three ships from France, as I sail’d,
-    I spy’d three ships from France, to them I did advance,
-      And took them all by chance, as I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: And also three ships of Spain.]
-
-    I spy’d three ships of Spain, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,
-      I spy’d three ships of Spain as I sail’d,
-    I spy’d three ships of Spain, I fired on them amain,
-      Till most of them were slain, as I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: He boasteth of his treasure.]
-
-    I’d ninety bars of gold, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,
-      I’d ninety bars of gold, as I sail’d,
-    I’d ninety bars of gold, and dollars manifold,
-      With riches uncontroll’d, as I sail’d.
-
-[Sidenote: He spyeth fourteen ships in pursuit, and surrendereth.]
-
-    Then fourteen ships I saw, as I sail’d, as I sail’d,
-      Then fourteen ships I saw as I sail’d,
-    Then fourteen ships I saw and brave men they are,
-      Ah! they were too much for me as I sail’d.
-
-
-    Thus being o’ertaken at last, I must die, I must die,
-      Thus being o’ertaken at last, I must die,
-    Thus being o’ertaken at last, and into prison cast,
-      And sentence being pass’d, I must die.
-
-[Sidenote: He biddeth farewell to the seas, and the raging main.]
-
-    Farewell the raging sea, I must die, I must die,
-      Farewell the raging main, I must die,
-    Farewell the raging main, to Turkey, France, and Spain,
-      I ne’er shall see you again, I must die.
-
-[Sidenote: He exhorteth the young and old to take counsel from his fate:]
-
-    To Newgate now I’m cast, and must die, and must die,
-      To Newgate now I’m cast, and must die,
-    To Newgate I am cast, with a sad and heavy heart,
-      To receive my just desert, I must die.
-
-    To Execution Dock I must go, I must go,
-      To Execution Dock I must go,
-    To Execution Dock will many thousands flock,
-      But I must bear the shock, I must die.
-
-    Come all you young and old, see me die, see me die,
-      Come all young and old, see me die,
-    Come all you young and old, you’re welcome to my gold,
-      For by it I’ve lost my soul, and must die.
-
-[Sidenote: And declareth that he must go to hell, and be punished for his
-wickedness.]
-
-    Take warning now by me, for I must die, for I must die,
-      Take warning now by me, for I must die,
-    Take warning now by me, and shun bad company,
-      Lest you come to hell with me, for I must die,
-      Lest you come to hell with me, for I must die.
-
-
-
-
-GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY.
-
-    [To the untiring exertions of Major D. B. Douglass, Messrs.
-    Joseph A. Perry, Henry E. Pierrepont, Gerrit G. Van Wagenen,
-    and a few other liberal minded gentlemen, the public are
-    indebted for the design and completion of this beautiful place
-    of repose for the dead. It is anticipated that ten miles of
-    avenue will be completed during the coming summer, and when the
-    whole is laid out, according to the proposed plan, that there
-    will be fifteen miles of picturesque road within its precincts.
-    Part of the battle of Long Island in the Revolution was fought
-    upon its grounds, and it is intended at no distant day, to
-    remove the remains of those that perished in the Prison Ships
-    to the Cemetery, where they will sleep undisturbed beneath an
-    appropriate monument. The views from Mount Washington, and
-    other eminences, within its precincts, embrace the entire
-    bay and harbour of New-York, with their islands and forts:
-    the cities of New-York and Brooklyn; the shores of the North
-    and East Rivers; New-Jersey, Staten Island, the Quarantine;
-    unnumbered towns and villages sprinkled over the wide expanse
-    of the surrounding country, and the margin of the broad
-    Atlantic, from Sandy Hook, to a distance far beyond the
-    Rockaway Pavilion. The fine old forest which covers the greater
-    part of the grounds, shrouding and almost concealing from
-    sight, several beautiful lakes and sheets of water suggested
-    the name, with which it has been consecrated, the Green-Wood
-    Cemetery.]
-
-
-WHERE, THEN, IS DEATH!—and my own voice startled me from my reverie
-as, leaning on my saddle-bow on the summit of Mount Washington in the
-Greenwood Cemetery, I asked—_Where, then, is death!_ The golden sun of a
-delicious summer’s afternoon was streaming o’er the undulating hills of
-Staten Island lighting more brilliantly the snow-white villas and emerald
-lawns:—the Lazaretto—its fleet gay with the flags of all the nations, was
-nestling like a fairy city at its feet:—the noble bay before me was one
-great polished mirror—motionless vessels with white sails and drooping
-pennants, resting on its surface, like souls upon the ocean of Eternity,
-and every thing around was bright and still and beautiful as I asked
-myself the question—_Where, then, is death!_
-
-The islands with their military works lay calm and motionless upon
-the waters—the grim artillery, like sleeping tigers crouched upon the
-ramparts and the castle’s walls—but the glistening of the sentry’s
-polished musket, and the sudden clamorous roll of drums showed me,
-that—_not there was death_.
-
-I turned.—The great fierce city extending as far as eye could reach—the
-sky fretted with her turrets and her spires—her thousand smokes rising
-and mingling with the o’erhanging-clouds;—as she rose above her bed of
-waters, with hoarse continuous roar, cried to me—“_Look not here, not
-here—for death!_” Her sister city, with her towers and cupolas—her grassy
-esplanades surmounted with verdant trees and far extending colonnades
-embowered in shrubbery,—from her high terraced walls, re-echoed the
-hollow roar—“_Not here for death!_”
-
-The island lay extended far before me—its farms and towns—its modest
-spires—its granaries—its verdant meadows—its rich cultivated fields—its
-woods—its lawns—all wrapped in silence, but still its whisper softly
-reached me—“_Not here—not here—is death!_”—E’en the great distant
-ocean, closed only from my view by the far-reaching horizon, in sullen
-continuous murmurs moaned—“_Not here is death!_”
-
-Where, then, I cried—_where, then, is death?_ I looked above me, and the
-blue vault hung pure and motionless—light fleecy clouds like angels on
-their journeys, alone resting on its cerulean tint,—around, the evening
-breeze played calm and gently,—and beneath the flowers and leaves were
-quivering with delight, while the incessant hum of insect life, arising
-from the earth with ceaseless voice, still cried—“_No—no—not here is
-death!_”
-
-Ah! said I, this beautiful world shall be forever, and there is—there
-is no death—but even as I spoke, a warning voice struck with deep
-solemnity upon my startled ear,—“Man that is born of woman, hath but a
-short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down
-like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in
-one stay.”—And as I turned, the funeral procession—its minister and its
-mourners passed onward in their journey with the silent dead.
-
-I looked after the retiring group, and again from beyond the coppice
-which intervened, heard rising in the same deep solemn tones,—“Write,
-from henceforth, blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; even so saith
-the spirit, for they rest from their labours,”—and my soul cowered within
-itself like a guilty thing, as it said—Amen.
-
-I looked again upon the scene before me and sighed,—e’en such is human
-reason. That gorgeous sun shall set—the gay villas and verdant lawns,—the
-crowded shipping,—the beautiful bay with all that rest upon its bosom,
-shall soon be wrapt in darkness,—the gleaming watch-light disappear from
-yon tall battlement, as the bugle sounds its warning note,—the great
-fierce city be stilled in silence, while the beating hearts within her
-midnight shroud, like seconds, answer her tolling bells upon the dial of
-eternity,—and the insect myriads—the flowers and leaves—ay!—the great
-heavens themselves, shall from the darkness cry—“_This is the portraiture
-of death!_”—for the darkness and the silence are all that man can realize
-of death.
-
-The hardy Northman with trembling finger points to the mouldering frame
-work of humanity, and shudders as he cries—“_Lo! there is death!_”—and
-the polished Greek smiles delightedly on the faultless statue of
-the lovely woman with the infant sleeping on her breast, as he also
-cries—“_Lo! there is death!_”—yet both alike with reverence do lay their
-final offering before his gloomy shrine.—The squalid Esquimaux scoops
-out the cavern in the never melting snows, for the frozen form whose
-conflicts with the grizzly bear and shuddering cold are done—and the
-mild Hindoo, with affection, feeds the funeral pyre, and as the fragrant
-column does arise, cries—“Soul of my brother—immortal soul, ascend!”—The
-red man, in the far distant prairie’s lonely wilds, pillows the head of
-the warrior-chief upon his slain desert steed within its mound, while the
-bronzed pioneer, throwing aside his axe and rifle, hastily dashes away
-the tear as he inhumes beneath its flowery bed his scar-marked comrade’s
-form.
-
-The secluded village hamlet, with pious care, within the quiet grove,
-encloses a resting-place for its silent few, disappearing at long
-intervals;—and here those great living cities have chosen this silent
-city for their dead, falling like the forest leaves in autumn.
-
-For the great army, who must ere long, march forth to ground their arms
-before the grim and ghastly Conqueror, ’twere difficult to find more
-beautiful and lovely resting place. E’en the sad mourner lingers as
-he beholds its broad and lovely lawns, stretched out in calm serenity
-before him;—its sylvan waters in their glassy stillness; its antique
-elms, arching with extended branches the long secluded lanes; its deep
-romantic glens; its rolling mounds, and all its varied scenery, ere with
-a softened sadness he turns him to his desolate and melancholy home. Oh!
-spirits of our departed ones! We know that you have gone forth from your
-human habitations, and that we shall behold your loved forms no more
-forever. Oh! therefore will we lay your deserted temples within this
-consecrated ground, and, in imagination, fondly see you sleeping still in
-tranquillity beneath its green and silent sward.
-
-But lo! where upon the broad and verdant lawn, the loose clods and dark
-black mould heaped carelessly aside, the narrow pit awaits, ere it
-close again from light, its tenant in his dark and narrow house. The
-sorrowing group collect around, and the pall slowly drawn aside, one
-moment more exhibits to the loved ones, the pallid countenance of him
-about to be hidden from their sight forever. The weeping widow, in her
-dark habiliments, leans upon the arm of the stern, sad brother, her
-little ones clinging to her raiment in mingled awe and admiration of
-the scene before them. “Ashes to ashes”—how she writhes in anguish, as
-the heavy clods fall with hollow unpitying jar upon the coffin lid—how
-like a lifeless thing she hangs upon the supporting arm in which her
-countenance is buried in agony unutterable; and see the little ones,
-their faces streaming with wondering tears, clasping her hands; how in
-happy ignorance, they innocently, with fond endearing names, still call
-upon him to arise.
-
-But the narrow grave is filled—the mourning group have gone—the
-evening shadows fall—the declining sun sinks beneath his gorgeous
-bed in the horizon, and in the thickening twilight, the dead lies in
-his mound—alone. The night advances—the stars arise, and the joyous
-constellations roll high onward in their majestic journeys in the
-o’erhanging heavens—but beneath—the tenant of the fresh filled grave,
-lies motionless and still. The morning sun appears, the dew, like
-diamonds, glitters on every leaf and blade of grass—the birds joyously
-carol, and the merry lark, upon the very mound itself, sends forth his
-cheerful note—but all is hushed, in silence, to the tenant who in his
-unbroken slumber sleeps within. The Autumn comes, and the falling leaves
-whirl withered from the tree tops, and rustle in the wind—the Winter,
-and the smooth broad plain lies covered with its pure and spotless cloak
-of driven snow, and the lowly mound is hid from sight, and shows not, in
-the broad midday sun, nor e’en at midnight, when the silver moon sailing
-onwards in her chaste journey turns the icicles into glittering gems,
-on the o’erhanging branches as they bend protectingly towards it. The
-Spring breathes warmly, and the little mound lies green again—and now
-the mother bending o’er it, lifts the rose and twines the myrtle, while
-the little ones in joyous glee from the surrounding meadows, bring the
-wild flowers and scatter them in unison upon its borders. Oh! then!—were
-consciousness within—then would the glad tenant smile.
-
-But let him, whose tears as yet fall not for any dear one beneath its
-sod, ascend again with me the Mount, and with retrospective gaze behold
-the living drama, which has passed before it. The great world around—the
-stage—lies still the same; but the actors, all—all have passed onwards to
-their final rest. Into the still gleaming past bend your attentive gaze.
-Lo, the features of the scenery are still the same—the bay’s unruffled
-bosom, and the islands; but no sail now floats upon its surface, no
-gilded spires in the distance loom, nor does the busy hum of man reach
-us, as listening we stand—nought we see but the far forest covering
-the main and islands, even to the waters. The coward wolf howls in yon
-distant glen—the partridge drums upon the tree tops—and the graceful deer
-e’en at our sides browses in conscious safety. Yon light dot moving upon
-the water?—’tis the painted Indian paddling his canoe. Yon smoke curling
-on the shore beneath us?—it is the Indian’s wigwam—The joyous laugh
-arising among the trees? It is his squaw and black-eyed children—the
-Indian reigns the lord—reigns free and uncontrolled.
-
-But look again upon the waters floats a huge and clumsy galliot—its
-gay and gaudy streamers flaunting in the breeze; how the poor savages
-congregated on yonder point, gaze in wonder as it passes—’tis the Great
-Spirit, and the quaint figure with the plumed hat, and scarlet hose
-glistening with countless buttons, on its poop—some demi-god!—and as she
-onward moves, behold the weather-worn seamen’s faces in her rigging, how
-anxiously they return the gaze.—The forest children muster courage—they
-follow in their light canoes.—The galliot nears the Manahattoes—they
-ascend her sides—hawks, bells and rings, and beads, and the hot strong
-drink are theirs;—their land—it is the white man’s.—See with what
-confidence he ensconces himself upon the island’s borders—in his grasp,
-he has the fish—the furs—the game—the poor confiding Indian gives him
-all—and—behold the embryo city’s fixed!
-
-But see!—Is that the Dutch boor’s cabin at our feet?—Is that the
-Indian seated on the threshold, while the Dutchman lolls lazily
-within!—Where—where then is the Indian’s wigwam?—gone!
-
-Look up again—a stately fleet moves o’er the bay, in line of battle
-drawn; the military music loudly sounds—dark cannon frown from within
-the gaping ports, and crews with lighted matches stand prepared—they
-near the Manahattoes, and—and—the Orange flag descends—the Dragon and
-St. George floats from the flag-staff o’er the little town. Who is the
-fair-haired man that drinks with the Dutchman at his cottage door, while
-the poor Indian stands submissively aside?—“It is the Briton.”—I hear
-the laugh of youth—sure ’tis the Indian’s black eyed brood?—“’Tis the
-Englishman’s yellow haired, blue eyed children.”—Alas! alas! poor forest
-wanderer—nor squaw—nor child—nor wigwam, shall here be more for thee.
-Farewell—farewell.
-
-The little town swells to a goodly city—the forests fall around—the
-farms stretch out their borders—wains creak and groan with harvest
-wealth—lordly shipping floats on the rivers—the fair haired race
-increase—roads mark the country—and the deer and game, scared, fly the
-haunts of men.—Hah!—the same flag floats not at the Manahattoes!—now,
-’tis Stars and Stripes—See!—crowding across the river men in dark
-masses—cannon—muniments of war—in boats—on rafts—in desperate haste.
-Trenches and ramparts creep like serpents on the earth—horsemen scour the
-country—divisions—regiments—take position, and stalwart yeomen hurrying
-forward, join in the ranks of Liberty!—Hear! hear the wild confusion—the
-jar of wheels—the harsh shrill shriek of trumpets and the incessant roll
-of drums—the rattling musketry—the sudden blaze and boom of cannon—it
-is the roar of battle—it is the battle field!—Hear! hear the distant
-cry—“St. George and merry England.”—“Our Country and Liberty.”—Ah! o’er
-this very ground, the conflict passes—See! the vengeful Briton prostrate
-falls beneath the deadly rifle—while the yeomen masses fade beneath the
-howling cannon shot—and hark! how from amid the sulphurous cloud the
-wild “hurrah” drowns e’en the dread artillery.
-
-The smoke clouds lazily creep from off the surface—the battle’s o’er and
-the red-cross banner floats again upon the island of Manahattoes.—And now
-again—the Stripes and Stars stream gently in the breeze.
-
-The past is gone—the future stands before us. Ay! here upon this very
-spot, once rife with death, yonder cities shall lay their slain for
-centuries to come—their slain, falling in the awful contest with the
-stern warrior, against whom human strength is nought, and human conflict
-vain. Years shall sweep on in steady tide, and these broad fields be
-whitened with countless sepulchres—the mounds, covered with graves where
-affection still shall plant the flower and trail the vine—in the deep
-valleys, and romantic glens to receive their ne’er returning tenants; the
-sculptured vaults still shall roll ope their marble fronts—beneath the
-massive pyramid’s firm-fixed base, the Martyrs of the Prisons find their
-final resting-place—and on this spot the stately column shooting high in
-air, to future generations tell, the bloody story of yon battle-field.
-
-All here shall rest;—the old man—his silver hairs in quiet, and the
-wailing babe in sweet repose—the strong from fierce conflict with fiery
-disease, and bowing submissively, the poor pallid invalid—the old—the
-young—the strong—the beautiful—all—here shall rest in deep and motionless
-repose.
-
-Oh! Being!—Infinite and Glorious—UNSEEN—shrouded from our vision in
-the vast and awful mists of immeasurable Eternity—CREATOR—throned in
-splendour inconceivable, mid millions and countless myriads of worlds,
-which still rushing into being at thy thought, course their majestic
-circles, chiming in obedient grandeur glorious hymns of praise—God
-of Wisdom,—thou that hast caused the ethereal spark to momentarily
-light frail tenements of clay,—grant, that in the terrors of the awful
-Judgment, they may meet the splendours of the opening heavens with
-steadfast gaze, and relying on the Redeemer’s mediation, in boundless
-ecstacy, still cry—WHERE—WHERE THEN IS DEATH!
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-APPENDIX.
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS.
-
-
-    Note to the RESURRECTIONISTS.—Ghost in the Grave Yard.
-
-     ”   ”  OLD KENNEDY, No. I.—Lieutenant Somers.
-
-     ”   ”  OLD KENNEDY, No. III.—“The Parting Blessing.”
-
-     ”   ”  OLD KENNEDY, No. IV.—Explosion at Craney Island.
-
-     ”   ”  HUDSON RIVER.—Military Academy at West-Point.
-
-     ”   ”  NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE.—⎧ The Dying Soldier.
-                                       ⎩ The Officer’s Sabre.
-
-                          ⎧ Detailed Statement of the Battle.
-                          ⎪ Rainbow of the Cataract.
-                          ⎪ The Day after the Battle.
-     ”   ”  LUNDY’S LANE.—⎨ The two Sergeants.
-                          ⎪ Death of Captain Hull.
-                          ⎪ Scott’s Brigade.
-                          ⎩ Death of Captain Spencer.
-
-     ”   ”  MONTREAL.—Military Insignia.
-
-     ”   ”  LAKE GEORGE.—Attack on Fort Ticonderoga.
-
-     ”   ”  BASS FISHING.—⎧ Crew of the Essex frigate.
-                          ⎩ Mutiny on board the Essex.
-
-     ”   ”  LONG ISLAND SOUND.—New-England Traditions.
-
-
-
-
-APPENDIX.
-
-
-_Note to the Resurrectionists._—GHOST IN THE GRAVE YARD.—In New-England,
-most of the burying-grounds as they are called, are at some distance
-from the villages, and generally neglected and rude in their appearance,
-frequently overgrown with wild, dank weeds, and surrounded by rough
-stone walls.—Dr. W., a physician, whose extensive practice gave him a
-large circuit of country to ride over, relates that returning late one
-night from visiting a patient who was dangerously ill, his attention was
-attracted by a human figure clad in white, perched upon the top of the
-stone wall of one of these rustic cemeteries.—The moon was shining cold
-and clear, and he drew up his horse for a moment, and gazed steadily at
-the object, supposing that he was labouring under an optical illusion,
-but it remained immoveable and he was convinced, however singular the
-position and the hour, that his eyesight had not deceived him. Being
-a man of strong nerves, he determined to examine it, whether human or
-supernatural, more closely, and leaping his horse up the bank of the road
-he proceeded along the side of the fence towards the object. It remained
-perfectly motionless until he came opposite and within a few feet, when
-it vanished from the fence, and in another instant, with a piercing
-shriek, was clinging round his neck upon the horse.—This was too much,
-for even the Doctor’s philosophy, and relieving himself with a violent
-exertion from the grasp, he flung the figure from him, and putting
-spurs to his horse galloped into the village at full speed, a torrent
-of ghostly lore and diablerie pouring through his mind as he dashed
-along. Arousing the occupants of the nearest house, they returned to the
-scene of the adventure, where they found the object of his terror,—a
-poor female maniac who had escaped from confinement in a neighbouring
-alms-house, wandering among the tombs.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Old Kennedy, No. I._—CAPT. SOMERS.[3]—The name of Somers, the
-twin brother in arms of Decatur, shines brightly on the History of
-American Naval Warfare; and the last desperate action which terminated
-his short and brilliant career with his life, is stamped in colours so
-indelible, that nothing but the destroying finger of Time can efface it
-from its pages. After severe and continued fighting before Tripoli, the
-Turkish flotilla withdrew within the mole, and could not be induced to
-venture themselves beyond the guns of the Tripolitan Battery. The ketch
-Intrepid was fitted out as a fire-ship, filled to the decks with barrels
-of gunpowder, shells, pitch, and other combustible materials; and Capt.
-Somers, with a volunteer crew, undertook the hazardous, almost desperate,
-task, of navigating her, in the darkness of night, into the middle of the
-Turkish flotilla, when the train was to be fired, and they were to make
-their escape, as they best could in her boats.
-
-Lieutenants Wadsworth and Israel were the only officers allowed to join
-expedition, which was comprised of a small crew of picked men. The
-Intrepid was escorted as far as was prudent by three vessels of the
-squadron, who hove to, to avoid suspicion, and to be ready to pick up the
-boats upon their return: the Constitution, under easy sail in the offing.
-
-Many a brave heart could almost hear its own pulsations in those vessels,
-as she became more and more indistinct, and gradually disappeared in the
-distance. They watched for some time with intense anxiety, when a heavy
-cannonade was opened from the Turkish batteries, which, by its flashes,
-discovered the ketch determinedly progressing on her deadly errand. She
-was slowly and surely making for the entrance of the mole, when the whole
-atmosphere suddenly blazed as if into open day; the mast with all its
-sails shot high up in the air; shells whizzed, rocket like, exploding in
-every direction; a deafening roar followed and all sunk again into the
-deepest pitchy darkness. The Americans waited—waited—in anxious—at last
-sickening suspense. Their companions came not—the hours rolled on—no boat
-hailed—no oar splashed in the surrounding darkness. The East grew grey
-with the dawn—the sun shone brightly above the horizon, nought but a few
-shattered vessels lying near the shore—the flotilla—the batteries—and
-the minarets of Tripoli, gilded by the morning sunbeams, met their gaze.
-Those noble spirits had written their history. Whether consigned to
-eternity by a shot of the enemy, prematurely exploding the magazine,
-or from the firing of the train by their own hands, must always remain
-untold and unknown.
-
-[3] The U. S. Brig Somers, in which the late daring mutiny was suppressed
-by the prompt and decided measures of Lt. Alexander Slidell McKenzie, was
-named after this hero of the Tripolitan war.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Old Kennedy. No. III._—“THE PARTING BLESSING.”—An officer of
-the Lawrence engaged in this desperate action informed the writer, that
-he observed, in the latter part of the battle, the captain of one of the
-guns, who was a perfect sailor, and remarkable for his neatness and fine
-personal appearance, ineffectually endeavouring to work his gun himself,
-after all its crew had fallen. He was badly wounded by a grape shot in
-the leg; and although in that situation, he was supporting himself on
-the other, while he struggled at the tackle to bring the piece to bear.
-The officer told him that he had better leave the gun, and join one of
-the others, or, as he was badly wounded, go below. “No—no, sir,”—said
-the brave tar,—“I’ve loaded her, and if I’ve got to go below, it shan’t
-be before _I give ’em a parting blessing_!” The officer then himself
-assisted him in running the gun out of the port. The sailor, taking a
-good and deliberate aim, discharged her into the British ship, and then
-dragged himself down to the cockpit, fully satisfied with the parting
-compliment that he had paid the enemy. General Jackson, during his
-administration, granted the man a pension.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Old Kennedy. No. IV._—EXPLOSION AT CRANEY ISLAND.—One of the
-oldest of the surgeons now in the navy, who was present when the British
-were defeated in their attempt to cut out the Constellation at Craney’s
-Island, in Hampton Roads, in the last war, relates the following anecdote.
-
-The fire of the Americans was so heavy, that the British flotilla was
-soon obliged to retire, a number of their boats having been disabled
-by the cannon shot—one, in particular, having been cut in two, sunk,
-leaving the men struggling in the water for their lives. It was thought
-that it contained an officer of rank, as the other boats hurried to her
-assistance, and evinced much agitation until the individual alluded to
-was saved. But to let the doctor tell his own story:—
-
-“Well, they retreated, and we made prisoners of those whose boats having
-been cut up, were struggling in the water. Among others, there was a fine
-looking fellow, a petty officer, who had been wounded by the same shot
-that had sunk the boat; so I got him up to the hospital-tent, and cut off
-his leg above the knee, and having made him comfortable, (!) walked out
-upon the beach, with my assistant for a stroll. We had not gone far, when
-we were both thrown upon our backs by a violent shock which momentarily
-stunned us. On recovering ourselves, we observed the air filled with
-cotton descending like feathers. We did not know how to account for the
-phenomenon, till, advancing some distance farther, we found a soldier
-lying apparently dead, with his musket by his side. I stooped down, and
-found that the man was wounded in the head, a splinter having lodged
-just over the temple. As I drew out the splinter, he raised himself, and
-stared stupidly about him. I asked him what he was doing there?—“I’m
-standing ground over the tent, sir,” he replied. What tent?—“Why sir,
-the tent that had the gunpowder in it.” How came it to blow up—what set
-it on fire?—“I don’t know, sir.” Did nobody come along this way?—“Yes,
-sir; a man came along with a cigar in his mouth, and asked if he might
-go in out of the sun; I told him, yes!—and he went in, and sat himself
-down—and that is the last that I recollect, until I found you standing
-over me here.” Upon going a few hundred feet farther, we found a part,
-and still farther on, the remainder of the body of the unfortunate man,
-who ignorantly had been the cause of the explosion, as well as his own
-death. He was so completely blackened and burnt that it would have been
-impossible, from his colour, to have distinguished him from a negro.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Hudson River._—MILITARY ACADEMY AT WEST-POINT.—West-Point,
-with her majestic scenery—her savage mountains—the river winding at
-their feet—her military ruins rising among the forest-trees—her fine
-architectural edifices—her flag proudly floating from its staff against
-the back-ground of pure blue ether—her bright and elastic youth, in all
-“the pomp and circumstance of war”—now marching on the broad and verdant
-plain, in glittering battalion—now as cavalry, spurring their snorting
-horses in close squadron—now with light artillery hidden in the smoke
-of their rapid evolutions—now calculating amid the bray of mortars, the
-curving course of bombs—measuring the ricochetting shot bounding from
-the howitzers—amid the roar of heavy cannon, watching the balls as they
-shiver the distant targets.—West-Point, enveloped in its spicy mountain
-breezes—West-Point—its romantic walks—its melodious birds, warbling in
-ecstacy among its trees—its heroic monuments—its revolutionary relics—its
-associations, past and present—is, to the tourist, poetry—but to the
-cadet—sober, sober prose. Incessant study—severe drilling—arduous
-examinations—alike amid the sultry heats of summer, and intense cold of
-winter, mark the four years of his stay, with a continual round of labour
-and application:—application so severe that health frequently gives way
-under the trial. None but the most robust and hardy in constitution, can
-sustain the fatigue and labour. But few, nursed in the lap of wealth, are
-willing to undergo its hardships; yet, though the far greater part of
-the number are from what are called the hardy, certainly not the opulent
-part of the community; under the cry of aristocracy, the Academy is made
-a standing mark for the attacks of the radicals in the Federal and State
-legislatures. Of all the places of public instruction in the country—in a
-national point of view—it is the most important; for while it furnishes
-to the army a corps of officers acknowledgedly unsurpassed in military
-and scientific attainments by that of any service in Europe—officers,
-whose names are synonymous with modesty and honour, it is of incalculable
-importance in furnishing to the country, commanders and instructors
-for the militia in time of war, and engineers for the constant plans
-of public improvement in peace. West-Point proudly boasts that not one
-of her sons has ever disgraced himself, or his country, in the face of
-the enemy. She can, with equal pride, point to almost every work of
-importance in the country, and say, “There too, is their handywork.”
-While the noble works of defence on the frontiers and sea-board bear
-testimony to the talent and science of Totten, Thayer, and other
-gentlemen of the corps of engineers, the railroads, aqueducts and canals
-of the States bear equal witness to the energies of Douglass, McNeill,
-Whistler, and other officers, who have entered the walks of private life.
-
-Well would it be in this disorganizing age, if, instead of prostrating
-this, every State had within her borders a similar institution as a
-nucleus of order, discipline, and obedience. The following extract of
-a letter from an officer who stands high in the service, may not be
-uninteresting to the reader.
-
-                                                  February 16, 1843.
-
-    “I send you herewith a part of the information which you
-    required in your last letter. The Military Academy is a great
-    honour to the country, and is so understood abroad. I have
-    frequently heard foreign officers express their opinion,
-    that it was equal to any institution in Europe, and I was
-    particularly gratified when I was abroad, to find the English
-    officers so jealous of it. They seemed to understand very
-    distinctly, that, although the policy of the country prevented
-    our sustaining a standing army, that we had yet kept up with
-    the age in military science; and stood ready prepared with a
-    body of officers, well educated in scientific knowledge, to
-    supply a large army for efficient and vigorous operations.
-
-    “The whole number of graduates at the Academy since its
-    foundation, is 1167. Of this number there have died in service,
-    168. There have been killed in battle, 24. Of those wounded in
-    service, there is no record. The number of those who have died
-    since 1837, is 1 major, 17 captains, 21 first lieutenants, and
-    9 second lieutenants.
-
-    “The rank of those killed since 1837, was 1 lieutenant-colonel,
-    2 captains, 3 first lieutenants, and 2 second lieutenants.
-    The rank of those killed previous to that time can only be
-    ascertained by great care in revising the Registers. The
-    enemies of the Academy have charged, that men have been
-    educated and resigned without performing service in the army.
-    This is not so. Besides, the term of service in the Academy,
-    where they are liable at any time to be called upon and sent to
-    the extremes of the Union, they are obliged by law, to serve
-    four years after they have graduated, and in fact, they seldom
-    do resign, unless they are treated unfairly by government, and
-    the proportion of resignations of officers appointed from
-    civil life, is much greater than from those that have graduated
-    at the Academy. A large number of resignations took place in
-    1836, which was attributable to high salaries offered for civil
-    engineers, and to the general disgust which pervaded the army,
-    upon the constitution of two regiments of dragoons, when the
-    appointments were made almost exclusively from civilians, and
-    officers of long-standing and arduous service in the army found
-    themselves outranked by men of no experience, and who had done
-    no service. You can have no idea of the injustice which was
-    done on that occasion. The ambition of many of the officers was
-    broken down, and they retired in disgust.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Fort Erie._—THE DYING SOLDIER.—“On the day preceding the
-night attack,” said the Major, “while the enemy were throwing an
-incessant discharge of shot and shells into our works, I observed at a
-little distance beyond me a group of people collected on the banquette
-of the rampart; I approached and found that one of the militia had
-been mortally wounded by a cannot shot, and that, supported by his
-comrades, he was dictating with his dying breath his last words to his
-family. “Tell them,” said he, “that—that—I d-i-e-d l-i-k-e a b-r-a-v-e
-m-a-n—fig-h—fig-h-t—” and here his breath failed him, and he sunk nearly
-away—but rousing himself again with a desperate exertion—”b-r-a-v-e
-m-a-n—fight-in-g for—for—my c-o-u-n-try,”—and he expired with the words
-upon his lips.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Night Attack on Fort Erie._—THE OFFICER’S SABRE.—The writer saw in the
-possession of Major ——, a beautiful scimitar-shaped sabre, with polished
-steel scabbard; the number of the regiment, (119th, he thinks,) embossed
-on its blade, which one of the soldiers picked up and brought in from
-among the scattered arms and dead bodies in front of the works on the
-following morning. The white leathern belt was cut in two, probably
-by a grape shot or musket ball, and saturated with blood. Whether its
-unfortunate owner was killed, or wounded only, of course could not be
-known. It was a mute and interesting witness of that night’s carnage—and
-had undoubtedly belonged to some officer who had been in Egypt, and had
-relinquished the straight European sabre, for this favourite weapon of
-the Mameluke.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Attack on Fort Erie, and Battle of Lundy’s Lane._—These two
-articles elicited the following reply from the pen of an officer of the
-U. S. army, who has, alas! since it was written, fallen before the hand
-of the grim tyrant, whose blow never falls but in death. The authenticity
-of the statement can be relied upon, as the documents from whence it
-was derived, were the papers of Major-General Brown, and other high
-officers engaged in the campaign. It is proper to observe, that in the
-rambling sketch of a tourist, where a mere cursory description was all
-that was aimed at, the apparent injustice done to that gallant officer
-and eminently skilful soldier, Major-General Brown, (who certainly ought
-to have been placed more prominently in the foreground,) was entirely
-unintentional. The officer alluded to was under the impression that
-Colonel Wood’s remains were never recovered, and that consequently the
-monument erected to his memory at West-Point does not rest upon them.
-Much of the material of the two articles (eliciting these comments) was
-derived from conversations with another highly accomplished and now
-retired officer of the U. S. army; and as they were published without his
-knowledge, the writer inserts the following reply made to the strictures
-at the time:
-
-    ... “Deeming that ‘a local habitation and a name’ may be
-    affixed to my friend the ‘Major,’ and that he may be considered
-    responsible for inaccuracies for which others alone are
-    accountable, I hasten to say, that in the description of the
-    battle at Lundy’s Lane, (with the exception of some of the
-    personal anecdotes,) the title is retained merely as a _nom de
-    guerre_ to carry the reader through the different phases of
-    the action. The description of the night attack on Fort Erie,
-    as well as that of the character and personal appearance of
-    Lieutenant-Colonel Wood, is, however, almost literally that
-    given at the fireside of my friend. The information received
-    from the British camp on the following morning, through a
-    flag, was, as near as could be ascertained, that Colonel
-    Wood had been bayonetted to death on the ground; and my
-    impression was that his body had been subsequently identified
-    and returned. But as your correspondent, apparently a brother
-    officer, speaks so decidedly, I presume he is correct. Far
-    more agreeable to me would it have been to have remained under
-    the delusion, that the bones of that gallant and accomplished
-    soldier slept under the green plateau of West Point, than the
-    supposition that even now they may be restlessly whirling in
-    some dark cavern of the cataracts. The account of the battle at
-    Lundy’s Lane was compiled from one of the earlier editions of
-    Brackenridge’s History of the Late War, (I think the third,)
-    the only written authority that I had upon the subject, and
-    from conclusions drawn from rambles and casual conversations
-    on the battle-ground. In how far a rough sketch, which was all
-    that was aimed at, has been conveyed from that authority, the
-    reader, as well as your correspondent, can best determine by
-    referring to the history alluded to.” The desperate bayonet
-    charge is thus described in that work, fourth edition, p.
-    269-270.
-
-    ... “The enemy’s artillery occupied a hill which was the key
-    to the whole position, and it would be in vain to hope for
-    victory while they were permitted to retain it. Addressing
-    himself to Colonel Miller, he inquired whether he could
-    storm the batteries at the head of the twenty-first, while
-    he would himself support him with the younger regiment, the
-    twenty-third? To this the wary, but intrepid veteran replied,
-    in an unaffected phrase, ‘I’ll try, sir;’[4] words which were
-    afterwards given as the motto of his regiment.
-
-    ... “The twenty-third was formed in close column under its
-    commander, Major McFarland, and the first regiment, under
-    Colonel Nicholas, was left to keep the infantry in check. The
-    two regiments moved on to one of the most perilous charges
-    ever attempted; the whole of the artillery opened upon them as
-    they advanced, supported by a powerful line of infantry. The
-    twenty-first advanced steadily to its purpose; the twenty-third
-    faltered on receiving the deadly fire of the enemy, but was
-    soon rallied by the personal exertions of General Ripley. When
-    within a hundred yards of the summit, they received another
-    dreadful discharge, by which Major McFarland was killed, and
-    the command devolved on Major Brooks. To the amazement of the
-    British, the intrepid Miller firmly advanced, until within a
-    few paces of their line, when he impetuously charged upon the
-    artillery, which, after a short but desperate resistance,
-    yielded their whole battery, and the American line was in a
-    moment formed in the rear upon the ground previously occupied
-    by the British infantry. In carrying the larger pieces, the
-    twenty-first suffered severely; Lieutenant Cilley, after an
-    unexampled effort, fell wounded by the side of the piece which
-    he took: there were but few of the officers of this regiment
-    who were not either killed or wounded.
-
-    “So far as I can recollect, the personal narrative of my friend
-    was as follows: Miller, quietly surveying the battery, coolly
-    replied—‘I’ll try, sir;’ then turning to his regiment, drilled
-    to beautiful precision, said, ‘Attention, twenty-first.’ He
-    directed them as they rushed up the hill, to deliver their fire
-    at the port-lights of the artillerymen, and to immediately
-    carry the guns at the point of the bayonet. In a very short
-    time they moved on to the charge, delivered their fire as
-    directed, and after a furious struggle of a few moments over
-    the cannon, the battery was in their possession. The words of
-    caution of the officers, ‘Close up—steady, men—steady,’ I have
-    heard indifferently ascribed to them at this charge, and at
-    the desperate sortie from Fort Erie. I am thus particular with
-    regard to the detail of this transaction, not that I think your
-    correspondent, any more than myself, regards it as of much
-    moment, but lest my friend should be considered responsible for
-    words which he did not utter.
-
-    ... “To show with what secresy the arrangements were made
-    for the sortie, it is believed that the enemy was in utter
-    ignorance of the movement. To confirm him in error, a
-    succession of trusty spies were sent to him in the character
-    of deserters up to the close of day of the 16th; and so little
-    did the army know of what were General Brown’s plans for that
-    day, that even if an officer had gone over to the enemy, the
-    information he could have given must have been favourable to
-    the meditated enterprise, as no one had been consulted but
-    General Porter, and the engineers Colonels McRae and Wood.
-
-    “At nine o’clock in the evening of the 16th, the
-    general-in-chief called his assistant adjutant-general, Major
-    Jones, and after explaining concisely his object, ordered
-    him to see the officers whom the General named and direct
-    them to his tent. The officers General Brown had selected
-    to have the honour of leading commands on the 17th came; he
-    explained to them his views and determinations, and enjoyed
-    much satisfaction at seeing that his confidence had not been
-    misplaced. They left him to prepare for the duty assigned to
-    them on the succeeding day. At twelve o’clock the last agent
-    was sent to the enemy in the character of a deserter, and
-    aided, by disclosing all he knew, to confirm him in security.
-
-    “The letter, of which the following is an extract, was written
-    by General Brown to the Department of War early in the morning
-    of the 25th July, 1814:
-
-    “‘As General Gaines informed me that the Commodore was in
-    port, and as he did not know when the fleet would sail, or
-    when the guns and troops that I had been expecting would even
-    leave Sackett’s Harbour, I have thought it proper to change my
-    position with a view to other objects.’
-
-    “General Scott, with the first brigade, Towson’s artillery,
-    all the dragoons and mounted men, was accordingly put in
-    march towards Queenston. He was particularly instructed to
-    report if the enemy appeared, and to call for assistance if
-    that was necessary. Having command of the dragoons, he would
-    have, it was supposed, the means of intelligence. On General
-    Scott’s arrival near the Falls, he learned that the enemy was
-    in force directly in his front, a narrow piece of woods alone
-    intercepting his view of them. Waiting only to despatch this
-    information, but not to receive any in return, the General
-    advanced upon him.
-
-    “Hearing the report of cannon and small arms, General Brown
-    at once concluded that a battle had commenced between the
-    advance of his army and the enemy, and without waiting for
-    information from General Scott, ordered the second brigade
-    and all the artillery to march as rapidly as possible to his
-    support, and directed Colonel Gardner to remain and see this
-    order executed. He then rode with his aids-de-camp, and Major
-    McRee, with all speed towards the scene of action. As he
-    approached the Falls, about a mile from Chippeway, he met Major
-    Jones, who had accompanied General Scott, bearing a message
-    from him, advising General Brown that he had met the enemy.
-    From the information given by Major Jones, it was concluded to
-    order up General Porter’s command, and Major Jones was sent
-    with this order. Advancing a little further, General Brown
-    met Major Wood, of the engineers, who also had accompanied
-    General Scott. He reported that the conflict between General
-    Scott and the enemy was close and desperate, and urged that
-    reinforcements should be hurried forward. The reinforcements
-    were now marching with all possible rapidity. The Major-General
-    was accompanied by Major Wood to the field of battle. Upon
-    his arrival, he found that General Scott had passed the wood,
-    and engaged the enemy upon the Queenston road and the ground
-    to the left of it, with the 9th, 11th, and 22d regiments, and
-    Towson’s artillery. The 25th had been detached to the right
-    to be governed by circumstances. Apprehending these troops to
-    be much exhausted, notwithstanding the good front they showed,
-    and knowing that they had suffered severely in the contest,
-    General Brown determined to form and interpose a new line
-    with the advancing troops, and thus disengage General Scott,
-    and hold his brigade in reserve. By this time Captains Biddle
-    and Ritchie’s companies of artillery had come into action.
-    The head of General Ripley’s column was nearly up with the
-    right of General Scott’s line. At this moment the enemy fell
-    back, in consequence, it was believed, of the arrival of fresh
-    troops, which they could see and begin to feel. At the moment
-    the enemy broke, General Scott’s brigade gave a general huzza,
-    that cheered the whole line. General Ripley was ordered to
-    pass his line and display his column in front. The movement
-    was commenced in obedience to the order. Majors McRee and Wood
-    had rapidly reconnoitered the enemy and his position. McRee
-    reported that he appeared to have taken up a new position with
-    his line, and with his artillery, to have occupied a height
-    which gave him great advantages it being the key of the whole
-    position. To secure the victory, it was necessary to carry
-    this height, and seize his artillery. McRee was ordered by the
-    Major-General to conduct Ripley’s command on the Queenstown
-    road, with a view to that object, and prepare the 21st regiment
-    under Colonel Miller for the duty.
-
-    “The second brigade immediately advanced on the Queenston
-    road. Gen. Brown, with his aids-de-camp and Major Wood passing
-    to the left of the second brigade in front of the first,
-    approached the enemy’s artillery, and observed an extended
-    line of infantry formed for its support. A detachment of the
-    first regiment of infantry, under command of Col. Nicolas,
-    which arrived that day, and was attached to neither of the
-    brigades, but had marched to the field of battle in the rear
-    of the second, was ordered promptly to break off to the
-    left, and form a line facing the enemy on the height, with a
-    view of drawing his fire and attracting his attention, while
-    Col. Miller advanced with the bayonet upon his left flank to
-    carry his artillery. As the first regiment, led by Major Wood
-    and commanded by Col. Nicolas, approached its position, the
-    commanding General rode to Col. Miller, and ordered him to
-    charge and carry the enemy’s artillery with the bayonet. He
-    replied in a tone of great promptness and good humour—‘It shall
-    be done, Sir.’
-
-    “At this moment the first regiment gave way under the fire
-    of the enemy; but Col. Miller, without regard to this
-    circumstance, advanced steadily to his object, and carried
-    the height and the cannon in a style rarely equalled—never
-    excelled. At this point of time when Col. Miller moved, the 23d
-    regiment was on his right, a little in the rear. Gen. Ripley
-    led this regiment: it had some severe fighting, and in a degree
-    gave way, but was promptly re-formed, and brought upon the
-    right of the 21st, with which were connected a detachment of
-    the 17th and 19th.
-
-    “Gen. Ripley being now with his brigade, formed a line, (the
-    enemy having been driven from his commanding ground) with the
-    captured cannon, nine pieces in the rear. The first regiment
-    having been rallied, was brought into line by Lt. Col. Nicolas
-    on the left of the second brigade; and Gen. Porter coming up
-    at this time, occupied with his command the extreme left. Our
-    artillery formed the right between the 21st and 23d regiments.
-    Having given to Col. Miller orders to storm the heights and
-    carry the cannon as he advanced, Gen. Brown moved from his
-    right flank to the rear of his left. Maj. Wood and Capt.
-    Spencer met him on the Queenston road; turning down that road,
-    he passed directly in the rear of the 23rd, as they advanced
-    to the support of Col. Miller. The shouts of the American
-    soldiers on the heights at this moment, assured him of Col.
-    Miller’s success, and he hastened toward the place, designing
-    to turn from the Queenston road towards the heights up Lundy’s
-    Lane. In the act of doing so, Maj. Wood and Capt. Spencer, who
-    were about a horse’s length before him, were near riding upon
-    a body of the enemy; and nothing prevented them from doing it
-    but an officer exclaiming before them, “They are the Yankees.”
-    The exclamation halted the three American officers, and upon
-    looking down the road they saw a line of British infantry drawn
-    up in front of the western fence of the road with its right
-    resting upon Lundy’s Lane.
-
-    “The British officer had, at the moment he gave this alarm,
-    discovered Maj. Jesup. The Major had, as before observed, at
-    the commencement of the action, been ordered by Gen. Scott to
-    take ground to his right.
-
-    “He had succeeded in turning the enemy’s left, had captured
-    Gen. Riall and several other officers, and sent them to camp,
-    and then, feeling and searching his way silently towards where
-    the battle was raging, had brought his regiment, the 25th,
-    after a little comparative loss, up to the eastern fence at
-    the Queenston road, a little to the north of Lundy’s Lane.
-    The moment the British gave Jesup notice of having discovered
-    him, Jesup ordered his command to fire upon the enemy’s line.
-    The lines could not have been more then four rods apart—Jesup
-    behind the south fence, the British in front of the north.
-    The slaughter was dreadful; the enemy fled down the Queenston
-    road at the third or fourth fire. As the firing ceased,
-    the Major-General approached Major Jesup, advised him that
-    Col. Miller had carried the enemy’s artillery, and received
-    information of the capture of Gen. Riall.
-
-    “The enemy having rallied his broken forces and received
-    reinforcements, was now discovered in good order and in great
-    force. The commanding General, doubting the correctness of the
-    information, and to ascertain the truth, passed in person with
-    his suite in front of our line. He could no longer doubt, as a
-    more extended line than he had yet seen during the engagement
-    was near, and advancing upon us. Capt. Spencer, without saying
-    a word, put spurs to his horse, and rode directly up to the
-    advancing line, then, turning towards the enemy’s right,
-    inquired in a strong and firm voice, ‘What regiment is that?’
-    and was as promptly answered, ‘The Royal Scots, Sir.’
-
-    “General Brown and suite then threw themselves behind our
-    troops without loss of time, and waited the attack. The enemy
-    advanced slowly and firmly upon us: perfect silence was
-    observed throughout both armies until the lines approached to
-    within four to six rods. Our troops had levelled their pieces
-    and the artillery was prepared,—the order to fire was given.
-    Most awful was its effect. The lines closed in part before the
-    enemy was broken. He then retired precipitately, the American
-    army following him. The field was covered with the slain, but
-    not an enemy capable of marching was to be seen. We dressed our
-    men upon the ground we occupied. Gen. Brown was not disposed
-    to leave it in the dark, knowing it was the best in the
-    neigbourhood. His intention, then, was to maintain it until
-    day should dawn, and to be governed by circumstances.
-
-    “Our gallant and accomplished foe did not give us much time
-    for deliberation. He showed himself within twenty minutes,
-    apparently undismayed and in good order.”
-
-[4] The twenty-first carried the celebrated ‘_I’ll try, Sir_,’ inscribed
-upon their buttons during the remainder of the war.
-
-Extract of a private letter from the writer of the above article, dated
-January 15, 1841.
-
-    ... “As to the fate of the gallant and accomplished Wood.—You
-    supposed a flag from the enemy reported he had been bayoneted
-    to death on the ground—like enough, but how did the enemy
-    recognise his body. Gen. Porter thinks he fell at the close of
-    the action at battery No. 1, but I never heard that any one saw
-    him fall.—His body never was recovered. Those of Gibson and
-    Davis, the leaders of the two other columns in Gen. Porter’s
-    command, were.
-
-    “Soon after the war, McRee, one of the best military engineers
-    this country ever produced, threw up his commission in disgust
-    and died of the cholera at St. Louis.
-
-    “From the time I lost sight of Gen. Scott in my narrative until
-    after the change referred to at the end of the narrative, Gen.
-    Scott with three of his battalions had been held in reserve.
-    The commander-in-chief now rode in person to Gen. Scott, and
-    ordered him to advance. That officer was prepared and expected
-    the call.—As Scott advanced toward Ripley’s left, Gen. Brown
-    passed to the left to speak with Gen. Porter and see the
-    condition and countenance of his militia, who, at that moment,
-    were thrown into some confusion under a most galling and deadly
-    fire from the enemy: they were, however, kept to their duty by
-    the exertions of their gallant chiefs, and most nobly sustained
-    the conflict. The enemy was repulsed and again driven out of
-    sight. But a short time, however, had elapsed, when he was
-    once more distinctly seen, in great force, advancing upon our
-    main line under the command of Ripley and Porter. The direction
-    that Scott had given his column would have enabled him in five
-    minutes, to have formed a line in the rear of the enemy’s
-    right, and thus have brought him between two fires. But in a
-    moment most unexpected, a flank fire from a party of the enemy,
-    concealed upon our left, falling upon the centre of Scott’s
-    command, when in open column, blasted our proud expectations.
-    His column was severed in two; one part passing to the rear,
-    the other by the right flank of platoons towards the main line.
-    About this period Gen. Brown received his first wound, a musket
-    ball passing through his right thigh and _carrying away his
-    watch seal_, a few minutes after Capt. Spencer received his
-    mortal wound....
-
-    “This was the last desperate effort made by the enemy to regain
-    his position and artillery....
-
-    “Porter’s volunteers were not excelled by the regulars
-    during this charge. They were soon precipitated by their
-    heroic commander upon the enemy’s line, which they broke and
-    dispersed, making many prisoners. The enemy now seemed to be
-    effectually routed; they disappeared....
-
-    “At the commencement of the action, Col. Jesup was detached
-    to the left of the enemy, with the discretionary order, to be
-    governed by circumstances.—The commander of the British forces
-    had committed a fault by leaving a road unguarded on his left.
-    Col. Jesup, taking advantage of this, threw himself promptly
-    into the rear of the enemy, where he was enabled to operate
-    with brilliant enterprise and the happiest effect. The capture
-    of Gen. Riall, with a large escort of officers of rank, was
-    part of the trophies of his intrepidity and skill. It is not,
-    we venture to assert, bestowing on him too much praise to say,
-    that to his achievements, more than to those of any other
-    individual, is to be attributed the preservation of the first
-    brigade from utter annihilation.
-
-    “Among the officers captured by Col. Jesup, was Capt. Loring,
-    one of General Drummond’s aid-de-camps, who had been despatched
-    from the front line to order up the reserve, with a view to
-    fall on Scott with the concentrated force of the whole army
-    and overwhelm him at a single effort. Nor would it have been
-    possible to prevent this catastrophe, had the reserve arrived
-    in time; the force with which General Scott would have been
-    obliged to contend being nearly quadruple that of his own. By
-    the fortunate capture, however, of the British aid-de-camp,
-    before the completion of the service on which he had been
-    ordered, the enemy’s reserve was not brought into action until
-    the arrival of Gen. Ripley’s brigade, which prevented the
-    disaster that must otherwise have ensued, and achieved, in the
-    end, one of the most honourable victories that ever shed lustre
-    upon the arms of a nation....”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—RAINBOW OF THE CATARACT.—The afternoon of the
-action presented one of those delicious summer scenes in which all
-nature appears to be breathing in harmony and beauty.—As General Scott’s
-brigade came in view, and halted in the vicinity of the cataracts, the
-mist rising from the falls, was thrown in upon the land, arching the
-American force with a vivid and gorgeous rainbow, the left resting on the
-cataract, and the right lost in the forest. Its brilliance and beauty was
-such, that it excited not only the enthusiasm of the officers, but even
-the camp followers were filled with admiration.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—THE DAY AFTER THE BATTLE.—“I rode to the
-battle-ground about day-light on the following morning, without
-witnessing the presence of a single British officer or soldier. The
-dead had not been removed through the night, and such a scene of
-carnage I never before beheld.—Red coats, blue, and grey, promiscuously
-intermingled, _in many places three deep_, and around the hill where the
-enemy’s artillery was carried by Colonel Miller, the carcasses of sixty
-or seventy horses added to the horror of the scene.”—_Private Letter of
-an Officer._
-
-The dead were collected and burnt in funeral piles, made of rails, on the
-field where they had fallen.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—THE TWO SERGEANTS.—For several days after the
-action, the country people found the bodies of soldiers who had straggled
-off into the woods, and died of their wounds.—At some distance from
-the field of battle, and entirely alone, were found the bodies of two
-sergeants, American and English, transfixed by each other’s bayonets,
-lying across each other, where they had fallen in deadly duel. It is
-rare that individual combat takes place under such circumstances in the
-absence of spectators to cheer on the combatants by their approval, and
-this incident conveys some idea of the desperation which characterised
-the general contest on that night. Yet in this lonely and brief tragedy,
-these two men were enacting parts, which to them were as momentous as the
-furious conflict of the masses in the distance.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—DEATH OF CAPTAIN HULL.—Captain Hull, a son of
-General Hull, whose unfortunate surrender at Detroit created so much
-odium, fell in this battle. He led his men into the midst of the heaviest
-fire of the enemy, and after they were almost if not all destroyed,
-plunged sword in hand into the centre of the British column, fighting
-with the utmost desperation until he was literally impaled upon their
-bayonets.
-
-In the pocket of this gallant and generous young officer, was found a
-letter, avowing his determination to signalize the name or to fall in the
-attempt.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—SCOTT’S BRIGADE.—Part of Gen. Scott’s command
-were dressed in grey—(probably the fatigue dress)—at the battle of
-Chippewa. An English company officer relates, that—“Advancing at the head
-of my men, I saw a body of Americans drawn up, dressed in grey uniform.
-Supposing them to be militia, I directed my men to fire, and immediately
-charge bayonet.—What was my surprise, to find as the smoke of our fire
-lifted from the ground, that instead of flying in consternation from our
-destructive discharge, the supposed militia were coming down upon us at
-‘double quick’—at the charge. In two minutes I stood alone, my men having
-given way, without waiting to meet the shock.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—DEATH OF CAPT. SPENCER.—Capt. Spencer,
-aid-de-camp to Maj. Gen. Brown, a son of the Hon. Ambrose Spencer, was
-only eighteen years of age at the time that he closed his brief career.
-He was directed by Gen. Brown to carry an order to another part of the
-field, and to avoid a more circuitous route, he chivalrously galloped
-down, exposed to the heavy fire in the front of the line, eliciting
-the admiration of both armies, but before he reached the point of his
-destination, two balls passed through his body, and he rolled from his
-saddle.
-
-The following letter to Gen. Armstrong, Secretary of War, will show in
-what estimation he was held by Gen. Brown:—
-
-    Copy of a letter from Major Gen. Brown, to Gen. Armstrong,
-    Secretary of War.
-
-                    “HEAD QUARTERS, FORT ERIE, 20th September, 1814.
-
-    “SIR—Among the officers lost to this army, in the battle of
-    Niagara Falls, was my aid-de-camp, Captain Ambrose Spencer, who
-    being mortally wounded, was obliged to be left in the hands
-    of the enemy. By flags from the British army, I was shortly
-    afterwards assured of his convalescence, and an offer was made
-    me by Lieutenant General Drummond, to exchange him for his own
-    aid, Captain Loring, then a prisoner of war with us. However
-    singular this proposition appeared, as Captain Loring was not
-    wounded, nor had received the slightest injury, I was willing
-    to comply with it on Captain Spencer’s account. But as I knew
-    his wounds were severe, I first sent to ascertain the fact of
-    his being then living. My messenger, with a flag, was detained,
-    nor even once permitted to see Captain Spencer, though in his
-    immediate vicinity.
-
-    “The evidence I wished to acquire failed; but my regard for
-    Captain Spencer, would not permit me longer to delay, and I
-    informed General Drummond, that his aid should be exchanged,
-    even for the _body_ of mine. This offer was, no doubt, gladly
-    accepted, and the _corpse_ of Captain Spencer sent to the
-    American shore.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to MONTREAL._—The custom of emblazoning on the flags, and other
-military insignia of the regiments, the actions in which they have
-signalized themselves, obtaining in the British and other European
-services, is not now allowed in that of the United States, on the score
-of its aristocratic tendency! Although, perhaps, in the instance alluded
-to, the stupidity of the individual prevented him from understanding
-their meaning; still, to the more intelligent of the soldiers, they are
-no doubt a great incentive to uphold the honour of the regiment.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA._—This important position, situated
-on Lake Champlain near the foot of the Horicon, (called by the English,
-Lake George, and by the French, St. Sacrament,) was first fortified by
-the French, and was the point from which they made so many incursions,
-in conjunction with the Indians, upon the English settlements. Lord
-Abercrombie led an army of nearly 16,000 men against it in the year
-1658; but was defeated with a loss of 2000 men, and one of his most
-distinguished officers, Lord Howe, who fell at the head of one of the
-advance columns. In the following year it surrendered to General Amherst,
-who led a force of nearly equal number against it. Its surprise and
-capture by Ethan Allen at the commencement of our revolution, is, we
-presume, familiar to every American, as also the fact of Burgoyne’s
-getting heavy cannon upon the neighbouring mountain which had heretofore
-been considered impracticable, and from which the works were entirely
-commanded. The necessary withdrawal of the army by St. Clair, after
-blowing up the works, is as related in the text.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Bass Fishing._—CREW OF THE ESSEX FRIGATE.—In the bloody and
-heroic defence of the Essex, in which, out of a crew of two hundred and
-fifty-five men, one hundred and fifty-three were killed and wounded! a
-number of instances of individual daring and devotion are recorded of
-the common sailors. Besides the act of Ripley, which is mentioned in the
-text, one man received a cannon ball through his body, and exclaimed in
-the agonies of death—“Never mind, shipmates, I die for free trade and
-sailor’s rights.” Another expired inciting his shipmates to “fight for
-liberty!”—and another, Benjamin Hazen, having dressed himself in a clean
-shirt and jacket, threw himself overboard, declaring, that “he would
-never be incarcerated in an English prison.” An old man-of-war’s-man
-who was in her, informed the writer, that her sides were so decayed by
-exposure to the climate in which she had been cruizing, that the dust
-flew like smoke from every shot that came through the bulwarks, and that
-at the close of the action, when the Essex was lying perfectly helpless,
-a target for the two heavy British ships, riddled by every ball from
-their long guns, without the ability to return a single shot—he was
-near the quarter-deck and heard Commodore Porter walking up and down
-with hurried steps, repeatedly strike his breast and exclaim, in great
-apparent agony—“My Heaven!—is there no shot for me!”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Note to Bass Fishing._—MUTINY ON BOARD THE ESSEX FRIGATE.—While the
-Essex was lying at the Marquesas Islands, recruiting and refreshing her
-crew from one of the long and arduous cruises in the Pacific, Commodore
-Porter was informed through a servant of one of the officers, that
-a mutiny had been planned, and was on the eve of consummation. That
-it was the intention of the mutineers to rise upon the officers—take
-possession of the ship—and, after having remained as long as they found
-agreeable at the island, to hoist the black flag and “cruize on their
-own account.”—Having satisfied himself of the truth of the information,
-Commodore Porter ascended to the quarter-deck, and ordered all the crew
-to be summoned aft. Waiting till the last man had come from below, he
-informed them that he understood that a mutiny was on foot, and that he
-had summoned them for the purpose of inquiring into its truth.—“Those
-men who are in favour of standing by the ship and her officers,” said
-the commodore, “will go over to the starboard side—those who are against
-them will remain where they are.” The crew, to a man, moved over to the
-starboard side. The ship was still as the grave. Fixing his eyes on
-them steadily and sternly for a few moments—the commodore said—“Robert
-White—step out.” The man obeyed, standing pale and agitated—guilt stamped
-on every lineament of his countenance—in front of his comrades. The
-commodore looked at him a moment—then seizing a cutlass from the nearest
-rack, said, in a suppressed voice, but in tones so deep that they rung
-like a knell upon the ears of the guilty among the crew—“Villain!—you
-are the ringleader of this mutiny—jump overboard!” The man dropt on his
-knees, imploring for mercy—saying that he could not swim. “Then drown,
-you scoundrel!” said the commodore, springing towards him to cut him
-down—“overboard instantly!”—and the man jumped over the side of the
-ship. He then turned to the trembling crew, and addressed them with much
-feeling—the tears standing upon his bronzed cheek as he spoke. He asked
-them what he had done, that his ship should be disgraced by a mutiny.
-He asked whether he had ever dishonoured the flag—whether he had ever
-treated them with other than kindness—whether they had ever been wanting
-for any thing to their comfort, that discipline and the rules of the
-service would allow—and which it was in his power to give. At the close
-of his address, he said—“Men!—before I came on deck, I laid a train to
-the magazine!—and I would have blown all on board into eternity, before
-my ship should have been disgraced by a successful mutiny—I never would
-have survived the dishonour of my ship!—go to your duty.” The men were
-much affected by the commodore’s address, and immediately returned to
-their duty, showing every sign of contrition. They were a good crew, but
-had been seduced by the allurements of the islands, and the plausible
-representations of a villain. That they did their duty to their flag, it
-is only necessary to say—that the same crew fought the ship afterwards
-against the Phebe, and Cherub, in the harbour of Valparaiso, where,
-though the American flag descended—it descended in a blaze of glory which
-will long shine on the pages of history. But mark the sequel of this
-mutiny—and let those who, _in the calm security of their firesides_,
-are so severe upon the course of conduct pursued by officers in such
-critical situations, see how much innocent blood would have been saved,
-if White had been cut down instantly, or hung at the yard arm. As he
-went overboard, he succeeded in reaching a canoe floating at a little
-distance and paddled ashore. Some few months afterwards, when Lieutenant
-Gamble of the Marines was at the islands, in charge of one of the large
-prizes, short handed and in distress, this same White, at the head of
-a party of natives, attacked the ship, killed two of the officers and
-a number of the men, and it was with great difficulty that she was
-prevented from falling into their hands. The blood of those innocent men,
-and the lives of two meritorious officers would have been spared, if the
-wretch had been put to instant death—as was the commodore’s intention.
-It will be recollected, that the Essex, in getting under way, out of the
-harbour of Valparaiso, carried away her foretop-mast in a squall, and
-being thus unmanageable, came to anchor in the supposed protection of a
-neutral port—nevertheless the Phebe, frigate, and Cherub, sloop-of-war,
-attacked her in this position—the former with her long guns, selecting
-her distance—cutting her up at her leisure—while the Essex, armed only
-with carronades, lay perfectly helpless—her shot falling short of the
-Phebe, although they reached the Cherub, which was forced to get out
-of their range. “I was standing,” said my informant, then a midshipman
-only fourteen years old, “I was standing at the side of one of our bow
-chasers, (the only long guns we had,) which we had run aft out of the
-stern port—when the Phebe bore up, and ran under our stern to rake us.
-As she came within half-pistol shot (!) she gave us her whole broadside
-at the same instant.—I recollect it well!” said the officer—“for as I
-saw the flash, I involuntarily closed my eyes—expecting that she would
-have blown us out of the water—and she certainly would have sunk us on
-the spot, but firing too high, her shot cut our masts and rigging all to
-pieces, doing little injury to the hull. Singular as it may seem, the
-discharge of our one gun caused more slaughter than the whole of their
-broadside, for while we had but one man wounded, the shot from our gun
-killed two of the men at the wheel of the Phebe, and glancing with a
-deep gouge on the main-mast, mortally wounded her first Lieutenant, who
-died on the following day.”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_Long Island Sound._—NEW ENGLAND TRADITIONS.—There are few countries
-where traditions and legends are handed down from generation to
-generation with more fidelity than in New England, more particularly
-along the sea-coast and the shores of the Sound. The “fire ship” is
-supposed even now by the old fishermen to be seen cruising occasionally
-in the vicinity of Block Island in the furious storms of thunder and
-lightning. The tradition is, that she was taken by pirates—all hands
-murdered, and abandoned after being set on fire by the bucaneers. Some
-accounts state that a large white horse which was on board, was left
-near the foremast to perish in the flames—and in storms of peculiarly
-terrific violence that she may be seen, rushing along enveloped in fire,
-the horse stamping and pawing at the heel of the foremast, her phantom
-crew assembled at quarters. In the early part of the last century, a ship
-came ashore a few miles beyond Newport, on one of the beaches—all sails
-set—the table prepared for dinner, but the food untouched, and no living
-thing on board of her. It was never ascertained what had become of her
-crew—but it was supposed that she had been abandoned in some moment of
-alarm, and that they all perished, although the vessel arrived in safety.
-
-The phantom horse will recall to mind a real incident, which occurred
-not long since in the conflagration of one of the large steamboats on
-Lake Erie. A fine race horse was on board, and secured, as is usual,
-forward. Of course his safety was not looked to, while all were making
-vain efforts to save themselves from their horrible fate. As the flames
-came near him he succeeded in tearing himself loose from his fastenings,
-rushing franticly through the fire and smoke fore and aft, trampling down
-the unfortunate victims that were in his way, adding still more horror
-to a scene which imagination can hardly realize, until frenzied with the
-pain and agony of the fire, he plunged overboard and perished.
-
-But the favourite and most cherished traditions are those relating to
-hidden treasure. The writer well recollects one to which his attention
-was attracted in his childhood. Mr. ——, inhabiting one of those fine
-old mansions in Newport, which had been built fifty years before, by
-an English gentleman of fortune, where taste and caprice had been
-indulged to the extreme, and where closets, and beaufets, and cellars,
-and pantries, appeared to meet one at every turn, was engaged late one
-winter’s night writing in his study, when he found it necessary to
-replenish his fire with fuel. The servants having retired, he took a
-candle and went himself to the cellar to procure it, and as he passed
-the vault called the “wine cellar,” his attention was attracted by a
-light streaming through the key-hole of the door. He stopped a moment and
-called out supposing that some of the family were in the apartment—but
-instantly the light vanished. He stepped up to the door and endeavoured
-to open it, but found to his surprise that it was fastened,—a thing
-that was unusual as the door constantly stood ajar. Calling out again,
-“who’s there?” without receiving any answer, he placed his foot against
-the door, and forced it open, when a sight met his eyes, which for a
-moment chained him to the spot. In the centre of the cellar in a deep
-grave which had been already dug, and leaning upon his spade, was a
-brawny negro, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, and the
-sweat trickling down his glistening black visage, while on the pile of
-earth made from the excavation, stood another negro, a drawn sword in
-one hand, a lantern with the light just extinguished in the other, and
-an open bible with two hazle rods across it, lying at his feet—these
-swart labourers the moment that the door was thrown open, making the most
-earnest signs for silence. As soon as Mr. —— could command his voice, he
-demanded the meaning of what he saw and what they were about. They both
-simultaneously then declared that the charm was broken by his voice. One
-of the worthies, who was the groom of the family, had dreamed five nights
-in succession, that old Mr. E—— the builder of the house, had buried
-a bootful (!) of gold in that cellar—and on comparing notes with his
-brother dreamer, he found that his visions also pointed to treasure in
-the old house, and they had proceeded secundem artem to its attainment,
-both vehemently declaring that they intended to give part of the treasure
-to Mr. ——. Of course, the door being opened, the strange negro was
-required to add the darkness of his visage to that of night, while the
-groom was on pain of instant dismission, together with the threat of the
-ridicule of the whole town, directed to fill up the grave, and thereafter
-to let the buried treasure sleep where its owner had seen fit to deposit
-it.
-
-
-
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-WILSON, DOCTOR SUTTON and others, which have received the unqualified
-commendation of the Church. In a letter received from BISHOP WHITTINGHAM,
-he says, “I had forgotten to express my _very great satisfaction_ at your
-commencement of a series of devotional works, lately re-published in
-Oxford and London.” Again, BISHOP DOANE says of this, “I write to express
-my thanks to you for reprints of the Oxford books; first, for reprinting
-such books, and secondly, in such a style I sincerely hope you may be
-encouraged to go on, and give them all to us. You will dignify the art
-of printing, and you will do great service to the best interests of the
-country.” The undersigned also beg to refer to their beautiful edition of
-the Poetical Works of SOUTHEY, also to that excellent series of “Tales
-for the People and their Children,” by MARY HOWITT and others, and to
-that extensive series of popular works for general reading, uniting an
-interesting style with soundness of Christian principle, such as the
-works of ARCHBISHOP MAGEE, GUIZOT, JOHN ANGELL JAMES, MISS SINCLAIR, REV.
-ROBERT PHILIP, REV. AUGUSTUS WM. HARE, JNO. PYE SMITH, FREDERICK AUGUSTUS
-SCHLEGEL, ISAAC TAYLOR, DR. W. C. TAYLOR, REV. DR. SPRAGUE, &c. &c. They
-also publish those very popular Voyages and Travels by REV. H. SOUTHGATE,
-of the Episcopal Mission, and FITCH W. TAYLOR, together with the Memoirs
-of GENERAL ALEXANDER HAMILTON by his son; and will continue to publish
-standard and popular works, and trust to merit a continuance of public
-favour.
-
-                            D. APPLETON & Co.
-                   _Emporium for Standard Literature_,
-                         200 BROADWAY, NEW-YORK.
-
-☞ D. A. & Co.’s Catalogue of English Books (critical and explanatory)
-will shortly be ready for delivery.
-
-
-SCHLEGEL’S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY,
-
-The Philosophy of History, in a course of Lectures delivered at Vienna,
-by FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL, translated from the German, with a Memoir of
-the author, by J. B. ROBERTSON. Handsomely printed on fine paper. 2 vols.
-12mo.
-
-“To do a mere reviewer’s justice to such a work would require many
-numbers of our journal. It is quite unnecessary to do more than direct
-attention to a production which, beyond all others, has contributed
-to exalt and purify modern science and literature—a work to which, in
-the eloquent words of a great man, ‘we owe the attempts at least to
-turn philosophy’s eye inward on the soul, and to compound the most
-sacred elements of its spiritual powers with the ingredients of human
-knowledge.’”—_Literary Gazette._
-
-
-THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SOCIETY, IN THE BARBAROUS AND CIVILISED STATE.
-
-An Essay towards discovering the Origin and Course of Human Improvement.
-By W. COOKE TAYLOR, LL.D., &c., of Trinity College, Dublin. Handsomely
-printed on fine paper. 2 vols. 12 mo.
-
-“A most able work, the design of which is to determine from an
-examination of the various forms in which society has been formed, what
-was the origin of civilization, and under what circumstances those
-attributes of humanity, which in one country become the foundation of
-social happiness, and in another perverted to the production of general
-misery. For this purpose the author has separately examined the principal
-elements by which society, under all its aspects, is held together, and
-traced each to its source in human nature. He has then directed attention
-to the development of these principles, and pointed out the circumstances
-by which they were perfected on the one hand, or corrupted on the other.”
-
-“We perceive by the preface that the work has had throughout, the
-superintendence of the very learned Archbishop Whately.”—_New-York
-American._
-
-
-CARLYLE ON HISTORY AND HEROES.
-
-HERO, HERO-WORSHIP, AND THE HEROIC IN HISTORY.
-
-Six Lectures, reported with, emendations and additions.
-
-By THOMAS CARLYLE, author of the “French Revolution,” “Sartor Resartus,”
-&c.
-
-Contents—The Hero as Divinity, Odin, Paganism, Scandinavian Mythology,
-The Hero as Prophet, Mahomet, Islam; The Hero as Poet, Dante, Shakspeare;
-The Hero as Priest, Luther, Reformation, Knox, Puritanism; The Hero as
-Man of Letters, Johnson, Rousseau, Burns; The Hero as King, Cromwell,
-Napoleon, Modern Revolutionism.
-
-1 vol. 12mo., beautifully printed on fine white paper.
-
-
-THOUGHTS IN PAST YEARS:
-
-A beautiful collection of Poetry, chiefly Devotional. By the Author of
-the Cathedral. 1 vol. royal 16mo. elegantly printed.
-
-
-MEDITATIONS ON THE SACRAMENT.
-
-Godly Meditations upon the most Holy Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. By
-CHRISTOPHER SUTTON, DD., late Prebend of Westminster. 1 vol. royal 16mo.,
-elegantly ornamented.
-
-
-LEARN TO DIE.
-
-Disce Mori, Learn to Die, a Religious Discourse, moving every Christian
-man to enter into a serious remembrance of his end. By CHRISTOPHER
-SUTTON, DD., sometime Prebend of Westminster. 1 vol. 16mo, elegantly
-ornamented.
-
-
-SACRA PRIVATA: THE Private Meditations, Devotions and Prayers
-
-Of the Right Rev. T. Wilson, D.D., Lord Bishop of Soder and Man. First
-complete edition. 1 vol. royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented. First
-complete edition.
-
-
-A Discourse Concerning Prayer
-
-And the Frequenting Daily Public Prayers. By SIMON PATRICK, D.D.,
-sometime Lord Bishop of Ely. Edited by FRANCIS E. PAGET, M.A., Chaplain
-to the Lord Bishop of Oxford. 1 vol. royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented.
-
-
-HEART’S EASE: Or a Remedy against all Troubles; WITH A Consolatory
-Discourse,
-
-Particularly addressed to those who have lost their friends and dear
-relations. By SIMON PATRICK, DD., sometime Lord Bishop of Ely. 1 vol.
-royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented.
-
-
-SCRIPTURE and GEOLOGY.
-
-On the Relation between the Holy Scriptures and some parts of Geological
-Science. By JOHN PYE SMITH, DD., author of the Scripture Testimony of the
-Messiah, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-TOUR THROUGH TURKEY and PERSIA.
-
-Narrative of a Tour through Armenia, Kurdistan, Persia, and Mesopotamia,
-with an Introduction and Occasional Observations upon the Condition of
-Mohammedanism and Christianity in those countries. By the REV. HORATIO
-SOUTHGATE, Missionary of the American Episcopal Church. 2 vols. 12mo.
-plates.
-
-
-Magee on Atonement and Sacrifice.
-
-Discourses and Dissertations on the Scriptural Doctrines of Atonement
-and Sacrifice, and on the Principal Arguments advanced, and the Mode
-of Reasoning employed, by the Opponents of those Doctrines, as held by
-the Established Church. By the late Most Rev. WILLIAM MAGEE, D. D.,
-Archbishop of Dublin. 2 vols, royal 8vo., beautifully printed.
-
-
-SOUTHEY’S POETICAL WORKS.
-
-The complete collected edition of the Poetical Works of ROBERT SOUTHEY,
-Esq., LL.D. edited by himself. Printed verbatim from the ten volume
-London edition. Illustrated with a fine portrait and vignette. 1 vol.
-royal 8vo.
-
-“The beauties of Mr. Southey’s Poetry are such that this collected
-edition can hardly fail to find a place in the Library of every person
-fond of elegant literature.”—_Eclectic Review._
-
-“Southey’s principal Poems have been long before the world, extensively
-read, and highly appreciated. Their appearing in a uniform edition, with
-the author’s final corrections, will afford unfeigned pleasure to those
-who are married to immortal verse.”—_Literary Gazette._
-
-“This edition of the works of Southey is a credit to the press of our
-country.”—_N. A. Review._
-
-
-GUIZOT’S HISTORY of CIVILIZATION.
-
-General History of Civilization in Europe, from the Fall of the Roman
-Empire to the French Revolution. Translated from the French of M. GUIZOT,
-Professor of History to la Faculté des Lettres of Paris, and Minister of
-Public Instruction. 2d American, from the last London edition. 1 vol.
-12mo.
-
-
-BICKERSTETH’S COMPLETE WORKS.
-
-The Works of the REV. EDWARD BICKERSTETH, Rector of Manton,
-Hertfordshire, containing Scripture, Help, Treatise on Prayer, the
-Christian Hearer, the Chief concerns of Man for Time and Eternity,
-Treatise on the Lord’s Supper, and the Christian Student. 1 vol. 8vo.
-
-
-THE LIFE OF ALEXANDER HAMILTON.
-
-Edited by his son, JOHN C. HAMILTON. 2 vols. royal 8vo.
-
-“We cordially recommend the perusal and diligent study of these volumes,
-exhibiting, as they do, much valuable matter relative to the Revolution,
-the establishment of the Federal Constitution, and other important events
-in the annals of our country.”—_New York Review._
-
-
-SCOTLAND and the SCOTCH; OR, THE WESTERN CIRCUIT.
-
-By CATHERINE SINCLAIR, author of Modern Accomplishments, Modern Society,
-&c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-SHETLAND and the SHETLANDERS; OR, THE NORTHERN CIRCUIT.
-
-By CATHERINE SINCLAIR, author of Scotland and the Scotch, Holiday House,
-&c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-THE METROPOLITAN PULPIT;
-
-Or Sketches of the most Popular Preachers in London. By the author of
-Random Recollections, The Great Metropolis, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-HARE’S PAROCHIAL SERMONS.
-
-Sermons to a Country Congregation. By AUGUSTUS WILLIAM HARE, A.M., late
-Fellow of New College and Rector of Alton Barnes. 1 vol. royal 8vo.
-
-“Any one who can be pleased with delicacy of thought expressed in the
-most simple language—any one who can feel the charm of finding practical
-duties elucidated and enforced by apt and varied illustrations—will be
-delighted with this volume, which presents us with the workings of a
-pious and highly gifted mind.”—_Quarterly Review._
-
-
-Williams’s Missionary Enterprises.
-
-A Narrative of Missionary Enterprises and Triumphs in the South Seas,
-with Remarks upon the Natural History of the Islands, Origin, Language,
-Tradition and Usages of the Inhabitants. By the REV. JOHN WILLIAMS, of
-the London Missionary Society. Numerous plates. 1 vol. large 12mo.
-
-
-THE FLAG SHIP: Or, a Voyage Round the World,
-
-In the United States Frigate Columbia attended by her consort, the Sloop
-of War John Adams, and bearing the broad pennant of Commodore George C.
-Read. By Fitch W. Taylor, Chaplain to the Squadron. 2 vols. 12mo. plates.
-
-
-ELLA V ——: Or the July Tour. By one of the Party. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-“He can form a moral on a glass of champagne.”—Le Roy.
-
-
-Missionary’s Farewell.
-
-By the REV. JOHN WILLIAMS, author of Missionary Enterprises, &c. 1 vol.
-18mo.
-
-
-SACRED CHOIR.
-
-A Collection of Church Music. Edited by GEORGE KINGSLEY, author of Social
-Choir, &c.
-
-“This collection is pronounced by the most eminent professors to be
-superior to any published in the country.”
-
-
-Physical Theory of Another Life.
-
-By ISAAC TAYLOR, author of Natural History of Enthusiasm. Third edition.
-1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-HOME EDUCATION.
-
-By ISAAC TAYLOR, author of Natural History of Enthusiasm, &c. &c. Second
-Edition. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-Limitations of Human Responsibility.
-
-By FRANCIS WAYLAND, D.D. Second edition. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-
-The Principles of Diagnosis.
-
-By MARSHALL HALL, M.D. F.R.S., &c. Second edition, with many
-improvements, by DR. JOHN A. SWETT. 1 vol. 8vo.
-
-
-=WORKS BY THE REV. ROBERT PHILIP.=
-
-
-THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF DR. MILNE, MISSIONARY TO CHINA.
-
-Illustrated by Biographical Annals of Asiatic Missions from Primitive to
-Protestant Times, intended as a Guide to Missionary Spirit. By ROBERT
-PHILIP. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JOHN BUNYAN,
-
-Author of the Pilgrim’s Progress. By ROBERT PHILIP. With a fine portrait.
-1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-LADY’S CLOSET LIBRARY, AS FOLLOWS:
-
-
-THE MARYS;
-
-Or Beauty of Female Holiness. By ROBERT PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-
-THE MARTHAS;
-
-Or Varieties of Female Piety. By ROBERT PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-
-THE LYDIAS;
-
-Or Development of Female Character. By ROBERT PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-
-DEVOTIONAL AND EXPERIMENTAL GUIDES,
-
-By ROBERT PHILIP. With an Introductory Essay by REV. ALBERT BARNES. 2
-vols. 12mo. Containing
-
-    Guide to the Perplexed.
-       Do     do Devotional.
-       Do     do Thoughtful.
-       Do     do Doubting.
-       Do     do Conscientious.
-       Do     do Redemption.
-
-
-YOUNG MAN’S CLOSET LIBRARY.
-
-By ROBERT PHILIP With an Introductory Essay by REV. ALBERT BARNES. 1 vol.
-12mo.
-
-
-LOVE OF THE SPIRIT,
-
-Traced in his Work: a Companion to the Experimental Guides. By ROBERT
-PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-
-_Shortly will be Published_,
-
-THE HANNAHS.
-
-Being a continuation of the Lady’s Closet Library, forming the Maternal
-portion of the series.
-
-
-=WORKS BY THE REV. JOHN A. JAMES.=
-
-
-Pastoral Addresses:
-
-By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. With an Introduction by the REV. WM. ADAMS. 1
-vol. 18mo.
-
-Contents.—The increased Holiness of the Church. Spirituality of Mind.
-Heavenly Mindedness. Assurance of Hope. Practical Religion wisest in
-every thing. How to spend a Profitable Sabbath. Christian Obligations.
-Life of Faith. Influence of Older Christians. The Spirit of Prayer.
-Private Prayer. Self-Examination.
-
-
-THE YOUNG MAN FROM HOME.
-
-In a series of Letters, especially directed for the Moral Advancement of
-Youth. By the REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. Fifth edition. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-
-The Anxious Enquirer after Salvation
-
-Directed and Encouraged. By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-
-The Christian Professor.
-
-Addressed in a series of Counsels and Cautions to the Members of
-Christian Churches. By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-
-Happiness, its Nature and Sources.
-
-By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES.
-
-
-THE WIDOW DIRECTED
-
-To the Widow’s God. By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES.
-
-
-DISCOURSES ON THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
-
-Select Discourses on the Functions of the Nervous System, in opposition
-to Phrenology, Materialism and Atheism; to which is prefixed a Lecture
-on the Diversities of the Human Character, arising from Physiological
-Peculiarities. By JOHN AUGUSTINE SMITH, M.D. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-Thoughts in Affliction.
-
-By the REV. A. S. THELWALL A.M. To which is added _Bereaved Parents
-Consoled_, by JOHN THORNTON, with _Sacred Poetry_. 1 vol. 32mo.
-
-
-=WORKS BY THE REV. DR. SPRAGUE.=
-
-
-True and False Religion.
-
-Lectures illustrating the Contrast between True Christianity and various
-other systems. By WILLIAM B. SPRAGUE, D.D. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-Lectures on Revivals
-
-In Religion. By W. B. SPRAGUE, D.D. With an Introductory Essay by LEONARD
-WOODS, D.D. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-Letters to a Daughter,
-
-On Practical Subjects. By W. B. SPRAGUE, D.D. Fourth edition, revised and
-enlarged. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-Lectures to Young People.
-
-By W. B. SPRAGUE, D.D. With an Introductory Address by SAMUEL MILLER,
-D.D. Fourth edition. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-MY SON’S MANUAL.
-
-Comprising a Summary View of the Studies, Accomplishments, and Principles
-of Conduct, best suited for Promoting Respectability and Success in Life.
-Elegantly engraved frontispiece. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-
-MY DAUGHTER’S MANUAL.
-
-Comprising a Summary View of Female Studies, Accomplishments and
-Principles of Conduct. Beautiful frontispiece. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-
-GRIFFIN’S REMAINS:
-
-Remains of the Rev. Edmund D. Griffin. Compiled by FRANCIS GRIFFIN. With
-a Memoir by REV. DR. MCVICAR. 2 vols, 8vo.
-
-
-HODGE ON THE STEAM-ENGINE.
-
-The Steam Engine, its Origin and Gradual Improvement from the time of
-Hero to the present day, as adapted to Manufactures, Locomotion and
-Navigation. Illustrated with forty-eight plates in full detail, numerous
-wood cuts, &c. By PAUL R. HODGE, C. E. 1 vol. folio of plates and
-letter-press in 8vo.
-
-“In this work the best Western and Eastern machinery, as applied to
-navigation, together with the most approved locomotive engines in this
-country and Europe, are given in detail, forming the most valuable work
-for the practical man ever published.”
-
-
-
-
-APPLETON’S TALES FOR THE PEOPLE
-
-=And their Children.=
-
-The greatest care is taken in selecting the works of which the collection
-is composed, so that nothing either mediocre in talent, or immoral in
-tendency, is admitted. Each volume is printed in the finest paper, is
-illustrated with an elegant frontispiece, and is bound in a superior
-manner, tastefully ornamented.
-
-The following have already appeared uniform in size and style:
-
-
-=WHO SHALL BE GREATEST?= A Tale: by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol. 18mo., plates.
-
-“The great moral lesson inculcated by this book is indicated by its
-title; and while it is prominent enough through the whole volume, it
-comes out at the close with most impressive effect. We need not say it
-is a lesson which every human being is the wiser and the better for
-learning. We cordially recommend the work to all who would desire to form
-a sober and rational estimate of the world’s enjoyments.”—_Albany Evening
-Journal._
-
-
-=SOWING AND REAPING=: or What will Come of It? by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol.
-18mo., plates.
-
-“We commenced it with the intention of just looking it over for the
-purpose of writing a cursory notice; but we began to read, and so we
-went on to the finis. It is very interesting: the characters are full of
-individuality.”—_New-Bedford Mercury._
-
-
-=STRIVE AND THRIVE=: a Tale by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol. 18mo., plates.
-
-“The mere announcement of the name of the authoress, will doubtless
-bring any of her productions to the immediate notice of the public; but
-Strive and Thrive is not a book for children only, but can be read with
-pleasure and advantage by those of a more mature age. It fully sustains
-the reputation of its predecessors. The style is easy and flowing, the
-language chaste and beautiful, and the incidents of the tale calculated
-to keep up the interest to the end.”—_New-York Courier & Enquirer._
-
-
-=HOPE ON, HOPE EVER=: or the Boyhood of Felix Law: by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol.
-18mo.
-
-“A very neat volume with the above title, and the farther annunciation
-that it may be called Tales for the People and their Children, has been
-written by Mary Howitt, whose name is so favourably known to the reading
-community.”
-
-“This volume like all others that emanate from the pen of this lady,
-is extremely interesting; the characters are naturally drawn, while
-the feeling and passion displayed, give the work a higher rank than is
-usually allotted to Nursery Tales.”—_Commercial Advertiser._
-
-
-=THE LOOKING GLASS FOR THE MIND=: or Intellectual Mirror, being an
-elegant collection of the most delightful little stories and interesting
-tales: chiefly translated from that much admired work L’ami des Enfans;
-with numerous wood cuts—the twentieth edition. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-The stories here collected are of a most interesting character, since
-virtue is constantly represented as the fountain of happiness, and vice
-as the source of every evil—as a useful and instructive Looking Glass, we
-recommend it for the instruction of every youth, whether Miss or Master;
-it is a _mirror_ that will not flatter them or lead them into error; it
-displays the follies and improper pursuits of youthful hearts, points
-out the dangerous paths they sometimes tread, and clears the way to the
-_temple of honour and fame_.
-
-
-=THE SETTLERS AT HOME=: by HARRIET MARTINEAU. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-“The circumstances under which this little volume, for the amusement
-of children, has been produced, give an additional charm to its truth,
-simplicity, and feeling. The tale, though in one passage sorrowful enough
-to moisten many a pair of eyes, is full of interest and character. The
-latter, we may add, is as much appreciated by children as the former; and
-they will take as lively an interest in Ailwin’s ignorant and unselfish
-fidelity and her stalwart arms, and in Roger Redfurn the gipsy boy’s
-gleams of better nature, as in the developement of the main incident of
-the book, a disastrous flood which spread devastation over the Isle of
-Axholme two hundred years ago.”—_Athenæum._
-
-“The early tales of Miss Martineau, written to inculcate and illustrate,
-by practical examples, the truths of political economy, will survive
-her later and more controversial works. So in this little story of
-the History and ill-treatment of some Dutch settlers, in the fens
-of Lincolnshire—during the wars of the Parliament because they were
-strangers, and because, moreover, they interfered with the wild and
-ague-shaken gunners and fishermen of the fens,—we see again the same
-shrewdness of observation—the same real interest in the welfare of the
-humble classes—the same sagacity, and occasional natural pathos, which
-rendered the politico-economical tracts so attractive, in despite of
-their name and subject.”—_New-York American._
-
-
-=EARLY FRIENDSHIP=: a Tale by MRS. COPLEY. 1 vol. 18mo., plates.
-
-In introducing the name of a new writer to this series of popular
-works, the publishers cannot but express their desire that all who have
-purchased previous volumes, will buy this, being assured it will commend
-itself to the reader so that the name of Mrs. Copley will soon, like the
-name of _Howitt_, be a passport to the notice and favour of the whole
-reading community.
-
-
-=FAMILY SECRETS=: or Hints to those who would make Home Happy, by Mrs.
-ELLIS, author of “The Women of England,” “Poetry of Life,” etc.
-
-“The tendency of this book is one of the best and noblest. The scenes
-and characters are, it is believed, portraits. Aiming as it does at the
-correction of a too prevalent vice—it is expected that the Family Secrets
-will command amongst the serious and thinking part of the community as
-extensive a popularity as Nicholas Nickleby does in its peculiar circle.”
-
-
-=PAST DAYS=; a Story for Children. By ESTHER WHITLOCK. Square 18mo.
-
-“It is a delightful, instructive little book; and if the child, when
-she closes the volume, find her ‘eyes red with weeping,’ let her not be
-ashamed; one old enough to be her grandfather, caught the same disease
-from the same source.”—_Philadelphia United States Gazette._
-
-
-HAZEN’S SYMBOLICAL SPELLING-BOOK.
-
-The Symbolical Spelling Book, in two parts. By EDWARD HAZEN. Containing
-288 engravings, printed on good paper.
-
-“This work is already introduced into upwards of one thousand different
-schools, and pronounced to be one of the best works published.”
-
-
-Lafever’s Modern Architecture.
-
-Beauties of Modern Architecture; consisting of Forty-eight Plates of
-Original Designs, with Plans, Elevations and Sections, also a Dictionary
-of Technical Terms, the whole forming a complete Manual for the Practical
-Business Man. By M. LAFEVER, Architect. 1 vol. large 8vo. half bound.
-
-
-Lafever’s Stair-Case and Hand-Rail Construction.
-
-The Modern Practice of Stair-Case and Hand-Rail Construction, practically
-explained in a series of Designs. By M. LAFEVER, Architect. With Plans
-and Elevations for Ornamental Villas. Fifteen plates. 1 vol. large 8vo.
-
-
-Keightly’s Mythology for Schools.
-
-The Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy, designed for the use of
-Schools. By THOMAS KEIGHTLY. Numerous wood cut illustrations. 1 vol.
-18mo. half bound.
-
-
-POLYMICRIAN NEW TESTAMENT.
-
-Numerous References, Maps, &c. 1 vol. 18mo.
-
-
-A GIFT FROM FAIRY-LAND.
-
-By J. K. PAULDING, Esq. Illustrated with one hundred unique original
-plates by Chapman. Elegantly bound. 1 vol. 12mo.
-
-
-☞ _Preparing for Publication._
-
-
-LEARN TO LIVE.
-
-Disce Vivere, Learn to Live; wherein is shown that the Life of Christ
-is, and ought to be, an express Pattern for imitation unto the life of a
-Christian. By CHRISTOPHER SUTTON, DD., sometime Prebend of Westminster. 1
-vol. 16mo. elegantly printed.
-
-
-The Early English Church;
-
-By the Rev. EDWARD CHURTON, A.M. 1 vol. 16mo. With a Preface by the Right
-Rev. Bishop IVES.
-
-
-PALMER’S TREATISE on the CHURCH.
-
-A TREATISE ON THE CHURCH OF CHRIST,
-
-Designed chiefly for the use of Students in Theology. By the REV. WILLIAM
-PALMER, M.A., of Worcester College, Oxford. Edited, with Notes, by the
-Right REV. W. R. WHITTINGHAM, D.D., Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal
-Church in the diocese of Maryland. 2 vols. 8vo. Handsomely printed on
-fine paper.
-
-
-The Beauties of the Country;
-
-By THOMAS MILLER; author of “Rural Sketches,” “Day in the Woods,” &c.
-
-
-HISTORY OF NAPOLEON,
-
-From the French of M. LAURENT DE L’ARDECHE. With Five Hundred
-Illustrations, after Designs by HORACE VERNET. 2 vols. 8vo.
-
-
-The Selected Beauties of British Poetry,
-
-With Biographical and Critical Notices, and an Essay on English Poetry.
-By THOMAS CAMPBELL. One handsome volume, royal 8vo.
-
-
-LYRI APOSTOLICI.
-
-From the last London edition. 1 vol. 16mo. elegantly printed.
-
-
-Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe.
-
-By DANIEL DEFOE. With Three Hundred Illustrations; after Designs by
-GRANDVILLE. 1 vol. 8vo.
-
-
-THE PHILOSOPHICAL HISTORY OF MANKIND.
-
-From the German of HERDER.
-
-
-RANKE’S REFORMATION IN GERMANY,
-
-The History of the Reformation in Germany. By LEOPOLD VON RANKE, author
-of the History of the Popes. Translated by SARAH AUSTEN.
-
-
-
-
-_Recently Published._
-
-
-The Sacred Choir:
-
-A COLLECTION OF CHURCH MUSIC.
-
-Consisting of Selections from the most distinguished authors, among whom
-are the names of HAYDN, MOZART, BEETHOVEN, PERGOLESSI, &c. &c.; with
-several pieces of Music by the author; also a Progressive Elementary
-System of Instruction for Pupils. By GEORGE KINGSLEY, author of the
-Social Choir, &c. &c. Fourth edition.
-
-☞ The following are among the many favourable opinions expressed of this
-work.
-
-          _From L. Meignen, Professor of Music, Philadelphia._
-
-    “G. Kingsley,
-
-    “Sir,—I have carefully perused the copy of your new work, and
-    it is with the greatest pleasure that I now tell you that I
-    have been highly gratified with the reading of many of its
-    pieces. The harmony throughout is full, effective and correct;
-    the melodies are well selected and well adapted; and I have no
-    doubt, that when known and appreciated, this work will be found
-    in the library of every choir whose director feels, as many do,
-    the want of a complete reformation in that department of music.
-    Believe me, dear sir,
-
-                          “Yours respectfully,
-
-                                                       “L. Meignen.”
-
-         _From Mr. B. Denman, President of the David Sacred
-          Music Society, Philadelphia, to George Kingsley._
-
-    “Dear sir,—Having examined your ‘Sacred Choir,’ I feel much
-    pleasure in recommending it as the very best collection of
-    Church Music I have ever seen. It combines the beauties of
-    other books of the kind, with some decided improvements in
-    selection, arrangement and composition, and commends itself
-    to the choir, the parlour and social circle. Wishing you the
-    success your valuable and well-arranged work merits, I am, sir,
-
-                         “Yours respectfully.”
-
-           _From the Committee of the Choir of Yale College._
-
-    “Sir,—We have been using for some time past your new
-    publication in the choir with which we are connected. We take
-    pleasure in stating to you our entire satisfaction with the
-    manner in which it has been compiled and harmonized, and would
-    willingly recommend it to any of the associations desiring a
-    collection of Sacred Music of a sterling character and original
-    matter. The melodies are quite varied and of an unusually
-    pleasing character; and uniting, as they do, the devotional
-    with the pleasing, we have no hesitation in giving them our
-    preference to any other collection of a similar character at
-    present in use among the churches.”
-
-                    _From Three Leaders of Choirs._
-
-    “Mr. George Kingsley.
-
-    “Sir—We have examined the ‘Sacred Choir’ enough to lead us to
-    appreciate the work as the best publication of Sacred Music
-    extant. It is beautifully printed and substantially bound,
-    conferring credit on the publishers. We bespeak for the ‘Sacred
-    Music Choir’ an extensive circulation.
-
-                            Sincerely yours,
-
-                                                     “O. S. Bowdoin.
-                                                     “E. O. Goodwin.
-                                                     “D. Ingraham.”
-
-
-
-
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