[figure description] Page 145.[end figure description]

In those days ocean-steamers belonged to the
dream-world. And when, in vision they came from
some fog, and then lost shape in a few moments, they
became strange sea-monsters with a whale's body
and enormous fins, like the wheels of an old style of
grist mill. It looked as if Naptune had exchanged
his trident for a pipe, and was blowing smoke into
dirt-colored clouds. The waters were yet in partnership
with the winds; and sail-makers were as
necessary for voyagers as the sooty Cyclops of an
iron-workery. Voyages then consumed days and
weeks; we went not in those times by hours, but by
leagues.

By the aid of poles and cables, and tides and yoheave-ohs!
with plenty of scolding and no little
swearing, packets moved like big snails away from
wharves, as from fast and firm friends; and, after

[figure description] Page 146.[end figure description]

remaining in sight a day or two, in river or bay, they
little by little contrived to sink under the horizon;
and in the course of a few weeks or months, or some
time, went into a port three or four hundred miles off,
slow and cross.

But now-a-days, a little tinkle of a silver-alloyed
bell, a strong cry of “all aboard!” a hoarse cough
of steam, as if some big body had a particularly bad
cold, and meant to be rid of it—tide high or tide low—
wind here or wind there, or no wind at all, nothing
but air or atmosphere being now necessary—and the
wharf recedes towards the wharehouses! Then people
shake adieus with hats and shawls; and in 12, or
20, or 30 hours, folks are—there!

Sea, at best, is a punishment; but in old times,
when the Wade-Hampton and Georgia Packet used
to transport the prisoners!—faugh! it makes us sick
to think about it!—why then, we solemnly resolved
every time we went to sea it should be the last! And
once, we were so conscientious as to keep our word,
and came from Savannah all the way to Philadelphia
on land, (mud, water and swamp included), and by
the lower roads! But, oh! frying-pan and fire! old
packets were Elysiums to that!

Folks at sea, however, used to amuse themselves—
after the cascades, of course; and people on land,
well strapped and laced to the intercourse point of
polite life, would unbuckle and unbend, and ease off

[figure description] Page 147.[end figure description]

then. Old packets were sad places for ladies and
gentlemen of severe dignity.

Once upon a time the Wade-Hampton had nearly
an hundred passengers. An intimate acquaintance,
who had made haste to reach Philadelphia, from the
interior, arrived, as was usual in whip-lash times,
too late for a berth, but just in the nick of time
for a mattrass and blanket. He chose, of necessity,
the bed and—board. Hence, in pleasant nights
he slept on deck, where the air was well salted, and
in stormy nights, on the cabin floor, where the air
needed salt or some chemical purifier.

In time, all ordinary recreations and quizzings
being exhausted, and the passengers sinking into the
typhoid state, discontent on every brow, and languor
in all looks, and murmur and growl in all tones; and
when nothing was left to exhilarate but an unexpected
ducking of some half-sick dandy holding on to a
rope near the gunwale, or some happy lurch of the
ship that would upset the gravy at dinner, or pitch
somebody attached to a chicken wing or drum-stick
against the state-rooms—then our friend, with great
magnanimity, and from pure philanthropy, resolved
to try—ventriloquism.

His mat was over a covered hatch, down which
one might leap towards the bilge-water. Around, in
all berths, single and double, passengers were packed
for the night, as animals in a barge going to market;

[figure description] Page 148.[end figure description]

some asleep, some afraid they were going to wake,
some pretending to sleep, and all turning over every
few moments to make things more comfortable,
when—

“Meyeow!” went a cat somewhere.

“Steward!” cried a crusty old gentleman, pretending
to have been waked, but looking through his
little window with his spectacles on, “turn that cat
out of the cabin, will you?”

“Cat?” cried that most unthanked and over-wrought
officer; “there is no cat—”

“Meyeow!” answered the phantom.

“Why, so there is!—but where?”

“Here! steward.”

“There! steward.”

“Well, how she got here I don't know,” said
the steward, trying to be in both places at once.

“Me-yee-ow!”—with better accents.

“'Long here!—'long there!—there she is!”—came
from all quarters, folks now being all awake and very
anxious to see a cat.

The worthy and bepuzzled steward (a half-darkee
man) went now, stooping and peering along the floor
near the berths, while grimalkin, (by courtesy,) kept
just one berth ahead, till the last was reached, when
puss mysteriously crossed the cabin, and the search
was carefully pursued on the other side and with
equal success—cat was not found! Our hero had

[figure description] Page 149.[end figure description]

never before made trial on a company of strangers,
having confined his practice to his friends; and
succeeding now better than his expectations, he at
last became a little unguarded, when of a sudden the
steward, running towards his mat, cried out with
satisfaction and pity:

“Ah! poor cat!—she is down the hold, right
under this here gentleman's bed! Poor thing! she
must be half-starved—'tis four days since we left the
wharf!”

“Poor creature!” exclaimed all the ladies; “get
her out, steward—that's a good fellow!”

“In a minute, ladies! Will the gentleman please
get up?”

“Certainly, steward,” answered Mr. Makebelieve.

The hatch was instantly uncovered; and sure
enough, as all anticipated, a decidedly louder and
more articulate cat-cry came forth. But then,
alarmed at the sudden light and the sudden jumpdown
of the steward, the silly cat retreated to some
remote and dark corner! Vain! the coaxing “puss!
puss! puss!—poor pussy!—po-o-or pus-see!” in the
steward's blandest tones and most piteous intonations!
The silly creature would not appear—nor even
answer!

“I will get a lantern,” said the half-vexed steward.
Of course the fears of the cat abated, and the calls
for aid and food were louder and more importunate;

[figure description] Page 150.[end figure description]

but alas! the performer's mouth coming unexpectedly
against a fellow-passenger along side, that gentleman
said in a low voice:—“Ah! ha! is it you!—keep
on!—keep on!”

Of course, the benevolent performer did keep on;
and much to the steward's bewilderment, who, after
a most scrutinizing hunt with his lantern, at last
popped his head out of the hatch, and declared
solemnly, on his word and honor, no cat was down
there! At which, the truth flashing into some
intelligent passenger's thoughts, he cried out:

“Good!—first-rate!—we have a ventriloquist on
board!”

After that, the cat-ghost was laid! for our hero had
no ambition to become a professor of the fine arts.
This he says was his first, his last, his only public
performance; and that was for the good of the
people.

But, reader, Edward Leamington was not driven
to these ridiculous expedients; for happily, and as a
wonder, a voyage that often took twelve days, was
now only six! The author was once sixteen days
about the same thing, and in the same ship!

The wind and weather, so constantly favorable,
could not make joyous hearts going to a house of
mourning; yet they did so favorably affect her
husband's health and spirits, that Mrs. L. found her
forebodings vanishing, and she looked and smiled as

[figure description] Page 151.[end figure description]

in the days of her early marriage life. And this
again so exhilarated Mr. L., that for a while he
almost forgot the insidious foe, that none the less
surely, if more slowly, was ever, amidst smiles and
caresses as in darkness and sorrow, mining towards
life's citadel.

Mr. L. went so far now as to say within himself—
“Some, they say, have recovered—and when farther
gone than myself—and why is this incurable? I
never felt better in my life, at least for some years.
I know the day of miracles is passed; but the days
of providence are not. His power is infinite, and so
is his goodness—perhaps we may, after all, live together
till old age! Merciful Father! spare me for
her sake!”

The very day before Boston harbor was in sight,
Mr. L. casting his eyes towards a shelf not yet noticed,
and that held some books, thought he would
while away an hour in running over a few pages of
fiction, which the captain had said, were in that
part, somewhere, of his library. He was alone; Mrs.
L. having gone to her state-room to change a dress,
and the children being among the seamen on deck,
and in charge of the servants.

Among the books he discovered a Bible,—a
strange and yet familiar look being about it! He
seized it with a trembling hand—he turned pale!
He staggered to a seat—was he ill? He was,

[figure description] Page 152.[end figure description]

reader. A rude blow that moment dispelled all
hope and forever of a long life!—that Bible was his
own gift to the false one! On a blank leaf were
these words, and written by his own hand—“A husband's
best gift to his wife!” How long Edward
sat in a stupor he knew not; but he was aroused by
the voice of Frank—

“Oh! my dear, kind master!”

“Hush, Frank! Hand me some water! I fear
I am not so well as I thought. But help me on
deck, Frank, and ask the captain if he can come to
the quarter deck for a few moments.”

Frank did all that was ordered; and soon the
captain appeared on the quarter, where, on noticing
the Bible in Mr. L.'s hand, he said—

“Oh! that's the very Bible! I mislaid it—I am
glad to see it again.”

“Why?” Mr. L. could ask no more.

“A lady, last voyage, left it in her state-room.”

“A lady!”

“Ain't you well, Mr. L.?” kindly asked the captain.
“Allow me to bring a little brandy and
water?”

Mr. L. did not wish the seaman's cordial; but it
would gain time, and he suffered the captain to go
after the beverage. Meanwhile he so far recovered
his presence of mind as to say, on the captain's return—

[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]

“Thank you, my kind sir, for this trouble.”

“No trouble, sir—come, take a hearty drink—take
a good hearty drink—'twill make you feel better.”

Captain Seagrass was a sailor of the olden times—
a navigator—a veteran—a man. He did not dress,
nor play cards, nor lie a-bed, committing his cargo
and passengers to dandy clerks and drunken engineers
and pilots; he took care of everything himself;
but, like folks in those days, he thought
brandy and water superior, and for all complaints,
to all the quack medicines in the universe.

Mr. L. sipped a little, and then asked as indifferently
as possible:

“A lady forgot this?”

“Yes, sir. She was not in very good health, and
spent much of her time, I believe, in reading that
Bible. She came on deck sometimes, kowever, with
her father!”

“Her father!”

“Her father, sir, Mr. William Henderson, of Mobile;
a man quite as fit for a parson, sir, as for a
planter. Why, sir, he preached to the sailors on
Sunday like a bishop.”

“His daughter was married?”

“I am not sure, sir. Mr. H. simply called her
daughter.”

“She was taking a voyage, I suppose, for health?”

“I think so. Indeed, Mr. H. said he wished his

[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]

laughter to try a sea-voyage, and to spend the sumner
in the cool bracing air of New England.
But—”

“What? captain.”

“Oh! only from her looks I should think it most
likely her father will not carry her home again.
Mr. L., had you not better try a little more of your
brandy and water, sir? You certainly are not very
well! Let me have some cushions brought up.”

“I am much obliged to you, captain; but if you
will allow me I will go below.”

Mr. L., retaining the Bible and declining the
captain's offer of assistance, descended into the
cabin, and on tapping gently at the state room, the
door was instantly opened by his wife. Struck
with the sudden alteration in her husband's appearance
and manner, she would have spoken; but
Edward putting his arm affectionately around her
and kissing her cheek, said—

“Sit down, my Mary, with me, on this sofa.”

“What is the matter, dear Edward?” asked his
wife, alarmed and wondering.

“You will not hate me, Mary?”

Mrs. L. surprised and a little grieved, simply
echoed—

“Hate!”

“Oh, forgive me! I wrong you. No! no! you

[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]

cannot hate—I would rather die than imagine that possible!”
exclaimed the husband.

“Edward! you greatly alarm me. Oh! what can
this mean?”

“This will explain all;” he answered. “This is her
Bible! Helen is not dead.”

“Helen!”

“That is she! Did I name her? Oh! name I
once uttered, as I utter yours, Mary! I buried the
name with her; but the name rushes into life with
herself.”

Mrs. Leamington, although not comprehending
how her husband had learned from that Bible that
his former wife still lived; yet, knowing that he had
been legally and righteously at liberty to marry again,
and well understanding what was now innocently
passing through his mind, with a woman's tact, said,
in a soothing voice—

“Be composed, dearest Edward! Need I assure you
of it?—no! Edward! Edward! if anything, I love
you more tenderly and proudly, now, than ever.
Yes! the more because you cannot forget her!”

“Dear, admirable, incomparable woman! Oh! rebuke
me not, let me praise you! I do from my
deepest soul love you, now, as I ever have done;
as I will, till my heart ceases its beatings! Perhaps
I do not (for man loves so but once) love even you so
idolatrously—but may I tell you all?”

[figure description] Page 156.[end figure description]

“Edward, pour your full heart into mine!”

“May the Holy One bless you, Mary! I will tell
you, then, all the past; and then, why I think she
may yet be living; but the Captain thinks she will
never live to return to her home! (Spite of all her
secret rebukings, Mrs. L. felt something like relief
from fear! At all events, she felt that now jealousy
could never have the smallest lodgment in her breast.)
I will begin with our childhood.

“We were school-mates and companions in childhood—
nay, we were always lovers. She was then
beautiful, and, as she approached maturity, her
beauty increased. I loved, as they say one can love
but once. An image of purity and loveliness, she
was my thought by day, my dream at night. Her
voice, to me like a seraph's, would thrill me into
tears or smiles—I lived, indeed, almost for her only.
I know I could then have easily died for her. In
some things we were alike, in others, very different.
She was much gayer and livelier than myself; certainly
she was more impulsive, and she often did
what she soon was sorry for. She may have loved
as ardently, but not so deeply.” Mr. L. paused a
moment, and then added—“No! no! not so deeply!”
Then, as if correcting himself, he said, tenderly—

“Oh! Mary! Mary! I forget myself.”

“The good, and the honest, and the generous,

[figure description] Page 157.[end figure description]

must have loved so, Edward!” answered Mrs. L.,
while she pressed his hand against her breast.

“The past is before me! If I go on it will move
me more than it should,” continued he.

“Never!—oh! how unworthy of your love, Edward,
should I be, if I even wished you not to feel!
For my sake, Edward, go on.”

“I will, Mary. We were engaged to be married
long before our maturity; and not long after reaching
adult age, we were married. But Helen had
another lover—nay, she had many; for to see her
was to love her. This one, if never beloved in turn,
was not disagreeable to her. Never had she played
with any the coquette, only now and then, before
our marriage, she would playfully say, `Edward, had
I never known you, I believe I would run away with
Charles,—yet grandmother says she does not like
Charles.' As far as exterior was concerned none
could have blamed Helen's choice; he was then my
superior—and even you, Mary, must think so —”

“Edward,” interrupted his wife, “that miscreant
Somerville has no comeliness in my eyes.”

“He was, however,” resumed Mr. L., “more accomplished,
(Mrs. L. thought differently,) and like
Helen, he was fond of gayety and amusement. I
am naturally a little reserved, and, perhaps, not
naturally sprightly; but, shortly after our marriage,
and during a revival of religion at Hopeful, I

[figure description] Page 158.[end figure description]

experienced, as I fain would believe, that great moral
change that constitutes the Christian. I soon resolved
to abandon the law and study divinity.

“No change of this kind took place in Helen's views
and feelings, and my determination was very disagreeable
to her; it not only precluded, as she thought,
all hope of worldly advancement, but my seriousness
and change of profession would debar her from
the innocent amusements of life. Alas! my early
Christian friends and advisers, through mistake, did
themselves assume, and caused me to assume, a demeanor
too cold and forbidding;—some even prescribing
all music, except psalms and hymns! They
thought it a sin to be merry and light-hearted.

“A temporary estrangement on Helen's part now
was evident. Yet I did now redouble my exertions
to make her happy—poor dear thing! (Here our
two friends both shed tears)—yes, poor dear Helen!
But this distressed her; because I made an effort;—
she wished no effort necessary. I meant well—but
we both felt that a change in her was the only thing
that had power to make us as we were! Oh! God!
a dream of life had ended!—A gulf was between
us!

“Meanwhile Somerville came as usual to our
house—oh! if villains were always hateful in appearance!
But whatever he may be now, rarely—
indeed, never was there a man that could so win

[figure description] Page 159.[end figure description]

confidence and even fascinate so quickly. Was it
so wonderful that Helen should just then feel his
company a relief from what she deemed and even
called the gloom and sadness of Methodism! Nay,
by my own acquiescence, he became her escort to
such parties and places as were frequented by the
moral and respectable of the world; and that I
feared to forbid lest I might provoke her to wrath,
although entreaty and kindness were used to win her
away.

“Somerville, I feared, indeed, was perhaps sceptical
on religious matters; yet he was a gentleman
and regarded as a man of high honor and I did not
then—I could not think of him as I do now. Whether
from the first he meditated and planned all, or
whether it was all sudden and unpremeditated, I
know not—but he betrayed his trust! He murdered
her!—if she be, indeed, dead! Oh! forgive me,
Mary, this Bible, the gift of my early love, brings all
back —”.

“At last we were invited to a fashionable party,
more for Helen's sake than mine, I being regarded
by the entertainers with no favorable eye. With
my present views I might have acted differently; but
then I declined the invitation myself and entreated
her, for my sake, to decline, thinking at that time
separation from the world implied utter seclusion,
except in official and religious intercourse. No

[figure description] Page 160.[end figure description]

doubt my request was pressed with arguments, to
gay people always distasteful, and now the more,
from the vehemence of a new convert; perhaps my
manner was unhappy. For Helen, for the first time,
answered scornfully:—alas! her disdainful countenance
I yet see! She said she would go, if she went
alone; that if I had resolved to live without pleasure,
she had not.

“Kindly replying, for I felt I had been too earnest,
and wishing to atone, I answered that Mr. Somerville
would be her escort to the party; and that I
would, for once, break my resolution and call for
her at any hour she would name. A very late hour
was named; and, at my special request, Charles
Somerville, who was a distant cousin, attended her
to the party.

“On his part was some evident uneasiness, now, in
my presence, although on hers was nothing remarkable,
save the displeasure yet lingering on her beautiful
face. That he at that time had some plan I
must now believe; for he had learned early that
day that he was to escort her; but I can never believe
she had, till the moment of leaving our house,
any intention of leaving it—alas! alas!—forever!

“Between eleven and twelve that night, I proceeded
in a carriage to Mr. Leveridge's, intending to enter
the house, but all was so noisy and extravagant, that
I ordered a servant to be called, on whose

[figure description] Page 161.[end figure description]

appearance, desiring to be shown into the gentlemen's
dressing-room, I bade him inform Mrs. L. her carriage
was waiting. In a few moments the waiter
returned, and with the information that the lady had
not been at the party to-night, nor had she sent any
explanation!

“Greatly alarmed, I drove to Somerville's lodgings,
where, to my utter surprise and horror, I learned that
early in the afternoon he had sent several trunks
and packages to the stage-office; and driving thither
I further learned that he, in company with a lady,
had started in the Express exactly at eight o'clock
that very evening!

“`Accursed villain!”' I exclaimed to myself,
“would to God I had my heel on your traitor's
heart!”—Alas! I raved worse than this that most
awful night! Oh! night of unutterable anguish! I
am altered since then, Mary! I have bowed down
to the Divine will!—but that night was past in alternate
cursing and praying! I know what the
heart feels when it imprecates wrath on a human
being! and then looks up with the rushing of the
past, and prays for the betrayed and lost! I was
not myself then!—his blood that night, had we met,
would now have been on my conscience!—(Mrs. L.
shuddered, but did not interrupt; she, for the first,
knew the despair of a noble and wronged heart,
when this man of benevolence could have dashed

[figure description] Page 162.[end figure description]

down the betrayer and trampled him to death.)
But long since have passed all feelings of vengeance,
Mary! I leave him to his Maker. Self-reproach,
however, mingled with the wild storm of that horrible
night. Had I not exposed her to temptation!
Why had I not yielded in comparatively innocent
matters? What was my religion worth if it could not
save me in the world where I should have been to
protect my lamb? And then would I call on her to
come back—and be to me again what she had
been!”

“The morning at length came; and pursuit was
advised. But it would be unavailing I knew; and
that, in no long time, was beyond doubt: for on that
very morning the two had sailed from New Haven
for the South. But that was all I learned.

“In two days I received a letter—(Mr. L. rose
and went to his portable desk, and returned with a
letter in his hand)—yes, here it is, Mary, read it for
yourself.”

His wife took the letter. But greatly affected and
blinded with tears she could scarcely read. Indeed,
the letter was nearly illegible, the hand of the writer
having evidently shaken as with palsy, and the
words here and there being nearly blotted out. This
was the letter:

“Edward! oh, Edward!—I would—but, no! no!

[figure description] Page 163.[end figure description]

you never can believe me now! I call God to witness—
I never, no never, loved any but you—I love
none other now! By the unutterable agony of my
frenzied soul, do not for God's sake, oh! do not
curse me!.... Good God! can it be possible!
I did not mean it! I know not why I did
it! I have not—I have not! I will not! Oh! say,
Edward! is it not a dream?—wake me from it!
Forgive, forgive, forgive me! Bid me come and
lie down at your feet and die! Call me only once
by the dear name—and then kill me! Oh! why,
why did you not command me to stay ever near
you! You were to blame—no! no! how dare I reproach?
One trial, Edward—but one! I would
give the universe—I would give my life—God knows
I would—to stand where I did for a moment....
Vain! I cannot—cannot!—I am going mad!....
But I am not—I am not so fallen! I will not so
fall! I will leap into the sea first!..... Stay!
don't curse me! Pray for me! Yes, yes, I that
laughed at prayer, now with deep groanings of my
soul, and with my face in the dust call on you, Edward!
my wronged husband, and as a minister of
Christ, to pray for me. I am penitent—I have not
sinned—I will die rather! I will plunge into the
ocean. Oh! dear Edward!—husband, dear husband!
and for the last, I write those sacred words—
farewell, farewell!”

[figure description] Page 164.[end figure description]

Our friends for a while sat without speaking,
when Mrs. Leamington, with a triumphant, and joyous
and proud look and expression, said:

“Edward! Helen was guilty of the elopement,
and the elopement only. That miscreant, Tibbets,
or Somerville, failed in his worst intentions—I am
confident of this. But how did you come to suppose
her dead?”

“Hearing nothing of her,” replied Mr. L., “for
two years, a formal divorce was advised. Still I delayed,
secretly hoping she might yet return, and innocent.
Oh! do not despise me, Mary; time was I
could have married her again. She was my boyhood's
love—my manhood's love—my first love!
Aye! had I not aided the tempter? And why? oh,
why? shall not the poor penitent woman sometimes
be restored? But not long after the divorce, I read
among the deaths by fever, that of Mrs. Helen
Leamington, a widow lady, from the North, at the
plantation of Mr. William Henderson. A few words
alluded to Mr. Henderson's disinterestedness, who
had received the lady into his family; her husband
having perished in a shipwreck somewhere on the
southern coast some two years before.”

“And why, Edward, do you now think Helen is
living?”

“Captain Seagrass says this Bible was found in

[figure description] Page 165.[end figure description]

the state-room, where it had been left by a lady the
last voyage.”

“When was that?”

“About two months, or maybe six weeks ago.”

“Was she alone?”

“No; Mr. William Henderson, the very person
named in the notice of her death, was with her.”

“That lady was, perhaps, the gentleman's wife
or daughter. Did the captain say what was her
name!”

“He did not. He only said Mr. H. called her his
daughter.”

“After all, Edward, the lady may be his daughter.
The Bible has been given to her by Helen previous
to her death.”

“It may be so: let us examine the Bible.”

In examining the book, it had manifestly been repeatedly
read. Whole passages and many single
texts were marked; and in places the pages were
blistered as if a tear had dried on the paper. Upon
a close inspection, under the words—“A husband's
best gift to his wife,” was visible in pencil marks—
“And from the best of men!—oh, God! I shall be a
jewel in his crown!”

She is saved!—my prayers were heard!” exclaimed
Mr. L., with deep emotion.

“It is so! it must be so!” responded the wife. No
clue could be found, however, in the book to make

[figure description] Page 166.[end figure description]

it certain who was the lady that had forgotten the
Bible, on leaving the packet ship; but Mrs. L., at
her husband's request, sought the captain, who could
give no other information than the reader already
has. On her stating that her husband thought he
knew the lady and could restore her the book, or if
he failed to see her, that he would bring it back to
the ship, the captain readily consented to his taking
it away, adding, as he supposed facetiously, that
Parson Leamington loved a Bible too well to steal
one!”

To-morrow the family will stand on free soil, and
our story is in the North.

p562-180

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