“Yes, yes, if I can remember any one but
thee and myself,” said Aonetti.

At that moment the door flew open with violence,
and a crowd rushed in. They seized
Koningsmarke and the poor high constable,
who, ever since his recapture, had been in a
sort of stupor, and hurried them towards the
river side, where, on a little level greensward,
were placed two stakes, around which, at a distance
of three or four paces, were placed piles
of wood. In their progress to the funeral
pyres, Koningsmarke and Lob Dotterel were
harassed and beaten with sticks by the women
and boys, who vented their rage in every possible
variety of injury and insult. Among these,
the widow, whose affections had been treated
with such contemptuous ingratitude, was the
most conspicuous. With dishevelled hair, and
ferocious gestures, she followed him step by
step, taunting him with the beauties of his
white woman, alarming his fears by threats of
terrible vengeance on poor Christina, and
triumphing in the prospect of his approaching
tortures.

“Look!” cried the virago; “yonder is the
stake and the pile; I shall hear thee groan—I
shall see the hot brands, the live coals scorch

[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]

thee—I shall see the knife and the tomahawk
enter thy flesh—I shall see thy limbs tremble
like a woman—and I shall laugh, when the
drops of agony roll down thy forehead.”

Arrived at the stake, they proceeded to strip
the two victims, with the exception of their
waists, and to paint them black with charcoal
and grease. They were then fastened to the
stake, and, all being ready, the horrible ceremony
was about to begin, when Aonetti came
running franticly to the spot. Christina had
sunk into a temporary insensibility, when the
crowd carried off Koningsmarke, and, on
coming to herself, besought Aonetti to make
one last effort to reprieve the unfortunate youth.

“It is too late now,” said the Indian maid—
“ 'tis too late; they will spurn me; they will
beat me away. They are mad with rage and
cruelty.”

“Then I will go,” hastily exclaimed Christina,
starting up at the same time. “Perhaps
they will pity my sorrows.”

“Pity!” said Aonetti, despondingly—“Pity!
they know it not. If you seek to stop them,
they will tear you to pieces.”

“No matter—no matter—my heart is torn to

[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]

pieces already. Let them tear my flesh, I care
not. Come, come—'twill be too late.”

“'Tis too late already—the smoke begins to
rise—nothing can save him now.”

“But we can die too. Let us go—let us go,
or I shall go mad.”

“He killed my brother, and he loves not
me,” said Aonetti; “yet I will make one more
effort, even though they do spurn me. Stay
here, my sister, and I will soon return.” Christina
had again sunk into a temporary insensibility,
which prevented her following.

As the Indian maid approached, she called
upon them to stay a moment, ere they lighted
the piles. The noise was hushed, by the
command of some of the sages who were
presiding at this solemn ceremony, for so it was
reckoned by the Indians. Aonetti then urged
every motive she could think of, to induce them
to spare the two victims. She stated the rewards
that would be given, if they carried them
to the Big Hats at Coaquanock, and the terrible
vengeance the white-men would take, when
they heard of the sacrifice of their brothers.

“If you spare them,” said she, “their friends
will ransom them with great kegs of spirits, with
tobacco pipes, powder, shot, and every thing

[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]

you want. If you put them to death, the whitemen
will find you out one day or other, and
then wo to the red-men of the forest—wo to
their wives and their children—to themselves
and their posterity. Every drop of blood you
shed this day, I prophecy, will be repaid with
rivers of blood. Spare these white-men, and
let the tall youth be unto me the brother I have
lost.”

“Thou meanest a husband,” exclaimed the
Indian widow, who had listened with horrible
impatience to Aonetti's arguments. “Thou
wouldst take to thy arms the white-man whose
hands are red with the blood of thine only brother!
Shame of thy sex, and shame of the Indian
name! I know thee and thy wishes; I have
watched thy tears and thy sighs, thy lonely
rambles, thy words, nay, thy very looks. I
demand that the shade of my murdered husband,
of this wretched girl's murdered brother,
of all those who have fallen victims to the cursed
arts and bloody policy of the white-men, be appeased,
by the sacrifice of these deserters from
their adopted tribe. Else, may the wrath of the
Great Spirit confound our tribe, and his malediction
sweep you from the earth.”

These words were answered by a shout of

[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]

approbation from the crowd, and followed by
the acquiescence of the old men present, who
again decided that the ceremony should proceed.
It was now one of those bright, clear,
still afternoons, which are common in the month
of September. There was not a breath of air
to curl the river, or wave the leaves of the forest,
nor a cloud to be seen in the sky. At this
moment, when they were about to set fire to the
funeral pile, a sudden burst of thunder, loud and
sharp, arrested them. The eyes of all were
turned upwards, with a sensation of awe and
surprise. From the most enlightened philosopher,
down to the most ignorant savage;
from man, to the birds of the air, the beasts of
the field, it would seem there is something in the
great operations of nature, such as tempests,
earthquakes, and thunder storms, that excites
the apprehensions, or at least the awe, of
both reason and instinct. It is not alone a fear
of the effects of these terrible demonstrations of
irresistible power, that causes this cowering or
elevation of the faculties; it is, that by a direct
operation, the mind is led to a contemplation of
an infinite Being, by witnessing the display of
infinite power.

There was not a cloud to be seen in the sky,

[figure description] Page 102.[end figure description]

and this circumstance occasioned the thunder
clap to have the appearance of something altogether
supernatural. The flends who carried
the lighted brands to fire the funeral pyres, involuntarily
paused, and the Indian maid, taking
advantage of the moment, cried out:

“Hark! the Great Spirit bears testimony
against this deed. You heard his voice in the
air. It came not from the clouds, for there is
not a cloud in the skies. It is the great Master
of life that cries out from above against his
people that have offended him. In his name I
command you to stop—in his name I command
you to spare these white-men!”

The figure of the little Indian maid appeared
to dilate with the dignity of inspiration. Her
eyes were turned in eager gaze towards the
heavens, and she seemed as if she actually saw
the visible form of the Being whose judgment
she had invoked. The frantic rage of the women
and boys yielded to the influence of a superstitious
awe. The elders consulted together
for a moment, and then decided that the ceremony
should be suspended till they could offer
a sacrifice, and ascertain the will of the Great
Spirit. The crowd then dispersed, disappointed,
yet not daring to complain; and Koningsmarke,

[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]

with his companion, were again remanded to
the place whence they came, after being
washed, and permission given to dress themselves.
Here they were left, guarded without
by sentinels, to await the result of the appeal to
the Great Spirit.

CHAPTER V.

Farewell, farewell, my bonny maid;
Whom I no more shall see;
I die, but I am not afraid,
Because I die for thee.

[figure description] Page 104.[end figure description]

“Then came Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego.”

Christina passed the interval between the
departure and return of the Indian maid, in that
state of vague and indefinite horror, in which the
human mind, as it were, takes refuge from its
miseries. The events of the two preceding
days had so harassed her mind, and worn down
her strength, as to produce that state of moral
and physical weakness, which diminishes the
acuteness of suffering, by its very incapacity of
resistance. The past, the present, and the future,
offered themselves to her mind, rather
as horrible visions than as cruel realities; and
when she saw the return of Koningsmarke, she
hardly comprehended the fact, that he had at
least received a temporary reprieve. By

[figure description] Page 105.[end figure description]

degrees, however, the agitation of her mind yielded
to an irresistible drowsiness, and, supported
in the arms of Aonetti, she sunk into a long and
quiet sleep, from which she awoke perfectly restored
to a distinct comprehension of her present
situation.

In the mean time, the old men of the tribes
had called their principal priest or conjurer, to
take the usual measures for ascertaining the will
of the Great Spirit, in relation to the fate of
the two white-men. A fire was kindled on the
greensward, around which Mackate Ockola, or
the Black Gown, danced, and howled, and indulged
in every possible contortion of visage,
until he had exhausted his strength, and worked
up his mind into a species of real, or imaginary,
or pretended inspiration. From this he gradually
fell into a trance, which lasted about half
an hour, during which time the assembled old
men sat in a profound and awful silence. At
length Mackate Ockola seemed to awake, and
to remain for a while, staring around, as if unconscious
of his situation. Recovering by degrees,
he started upon his feet, and cried out in
a hollow voice—“I have seen the Great Spirit.
He came to me in a dream, in the form of a
great eagle, and said, Listen to me, Mackate

[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]

Ockola, and hear what I will. Many moons
shall not appear and pass away, ere the white-men
will grow into numbers like the leaves on
the trees. As they grow in numbers, my people
will decay and disappear. They will go
out like the embers of an almost extinguished
fire, until they have no habitations but their
graves; and even in these they will not be suffered
to rest, for the white-men, not content
with what grows on the surface of the earth, will
tear up her bosom, and lay your bones bleaching
in the sun and the wind, in search of riches
and food. The deer will disappear from your
forests; the fishes will be shut out from your
streams, by these people, who build dams like
the beavers; and you will starve on your hunting
grounds. You cannot avoid your destiny,
but you may delay it, by destroying those,
whose children, if they live, will destroy yours.
Go and tell my people, that for every drop of the
white-man's blood they shall spare, their children
and their children's children will pay a
thousand-fold.

This cruel message, the fabrication of the
priest, decided the fate of Koningsmarke and the
luckless high constable of Elsingburgh. It is
impossible for us to tell what were the motives

[figure description] Page 107.[end figure description]

of Mackate Ockola, in thus urging the death of
the two captives. But it may be observed here,
that the early systems of religion, in all nations
and countries with which we have any acquaintance,
are more or less tinged with blood.
Everywhere the priests have demanded victims
to propitiate their bloody deities, and everywhere
the altars have been funeral pyres. The
Mexican priests demanded human sacrifices;
in other places, the blood of animals sufficed;
and even among the Bramins, whose religion
forbids the shedding of the blood of animals,
human victims are encourged by the priests,
to expose themselves to every species of torture
at the feast of the Juggernaut, and to offer up
their lives on the funeral pile. Superstition
and fanaticism, in truth, delight in blood; and
in all ages and nations their steps may be
traced by that infallible mark. It was reserved
for the mild and merciful system of religion
under which we live, to banish all atonements of
blood, all sacrifices of animals; to make the
offerings of the heart a substitute for the torture
of victims; and, had not the love of wealth, the
lust of power, and the pride of opinion, marred
the beautiful system, so as to wrest its precepts
to the ourposes of avarice and ambition, it had

[figure description] Page 108.[end figure description]

come down to us, even to this day, without its
snow-white surplice being sprinkled with the
blood of a single victim. But here, alas!
as in all preceding systems of faith, the avarice,
the ambition, the bigotry, and the pride
of opinion, which seem the besetting sins
of man, have exercised their pernicious influence,
and, first and last, caused the shedding
of more blood than has ever smoked upon all the
Pagan altars of the world. Thus has the purest,
the most mild, and the most perfect system of
humanity ever propounded to mankind, been
impiously made the pretext for every species of
cruelty and bloodshed; and, what is perhaps
still more to be lamented, its divine precept of
love to all our fellow creatures, converted into
a warrant, not to say a duty, to hate all those
who do not think and believe exactly like ourselves.

But to return from this digression, which we
hope the reader will pardon. Koningsmarke and
his companions in affliction remained ignorant
of the decision we have just recorded. We will
not say happily ignorant, since, perhaps, actual
certainty would have been preferable to the
doubts which harassed their minds. When
Christina awoke from her long sleep, with mind

[figure description] Page 109.[end figure description]

and body both invigorated, it was some moments
before she came to a full consciousness of
her situation. “Where am I?” exclaimed she.
“In the arms of thy sister,” whispered the Indian
maid.

Christina looked around the hut. By the
dim light of an almost extinguished fire, she
observed two figures in a sitting posture, leaning
against the wall. “Who is that?” whispered
she to Aonetti.

“It is he,” replied the Indian maid.

“Oh God! they have spared him then,”
shrieked poor Christina; “my sister has prevailed,
and he is safe!”

“Safe till to-morrow,” replied the other.

“No longer?”

“No longer. To-morrow I know not what
may become of them. Our priest is to decide,
and he never leans to mercy.”

Koningsmarke, observing that Christina was
awake, called out to her—

“Christina! wilt thou not come near me?”

“Come thou to me,” replied she, preserving,
even in this trying moment, that sentiment of
delicate propriety which never forsakes a virtuous
female.

“I cannot—I am fastened to this spot.”

[figure description] Page 110.[end figure description]

Christina approached, and, by the light of
the fire, perceived he was bound to one of the
posts that supported the simple edifice.

“He asks not for me,” thought Aonetti, and
wept in secret.

In this, which each seemed to have a presentiment
was the last hour they should spend together,
for the signs of day now began to appear,
Koningsmarke and Christina preserved towards
each other a deep solemnity of deportment,
from which all the little outward endearments
of love were banished.

“I have a presentiment,” said Koningsmarke,
“that thou wilt yet live to be received
to the arms of thy father.”

“To the arms of my Heavenly Father,” returned
Christina, “for none other shall I ever behold.
If the sun sees thee die this morn at its rising,
it will set at night on my breathless corse.”

“Nay,” returned Koningsmarke, “say not
so, my best love. Thou hast motives to live,
and duties to perform, when I am gone. Thou
hast known me but a little while; thy father
thou hast known from the first breath of that
life which he gave thee. Return the blessing,
and live for him.”

[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]

“I shall never see him more,” cried Christina.

“When I am gone,” continued the other,
“and when you see your father, tell him that I
remembered his kindness, even when the flaming
brand was pointed at my naked throat, and the
coals of fire were about being poured on my
uncovered head. Tell him that I protected
you while I could—that I exposed my life to
preserve yours—and that I perished in a last
effort to restore you to his arms. Should he
ever know what thou knowest, he will forgive
me, as thou hast done, for the sake of what I
have done and tried to do for thee. Wilt thou
bear him this message from me, Christina?”

Christina could not answer, for her emotions
almost stopped her breath. Her eyes were dry,
but her heart wept tears of blood. For a while
she remained insensible in his arms. At that
moment the door of the hut was opened, it being
now broad daylight, and Koningsmarke, with
his unfortunate companion, whose stupor became
every hour more profound, were untied
from the post, and conducted out of the hut.
The youth motioned to Aonetti, and, pressing
the inanimate form of Christina to his heart, as
for the last time, imprinted a kiss upon her cold

[figure description] Page 112.[end figure description]

forehead, and gently gave her to the arms of
the Indian maid.

“Be good to thy sister,” whispered he.

“I will—but say good-by to poor Aonetti.”

“Good-by—and may thy God and mine
bless thee,” replied Koningsmarke, and hastily
left the place without looking back.

The same preparations we described on the
preceding day were renewed, and the two captives
fastened to the stake. The brands were
again lighted, the knife and the tomahawk
lifted to begin their work, and the revengeful
barbarians standing on tiptoe to enter on the
bloody business. But again Providence interposed.
All at once the hands of the brandbearers
were arrested, and the eyes of every one
turned in a direction towards the river, along
whose banks appeared a train of white-men,
bearing a white flag, the universal emblem of
peace and good-will. As they came nearer, the
stiff and stately form of Shadrach Moneypenny,
followed by eight or ten others, dressed in
broad-brimmed hats, with their arms folded upon
their bosoms, were distinguished, walking with
slow and steady pace towards the spot occupied
by the old men of the tribes. They were accompanied
by others, bearing a variety of

[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]

articles of Indian trade. They came in peace,
and they were received in peace by the sons of
the shade. The policy of William Penn with
regard to the Indians, can never be sufficiently
praised or admired. From his first arrival at
Coaquanock, to the period of his final departure,
he preserved peace with the ancient
proprietors of the soil and the game, by the
simple expedient of dealing with them as if
they were his equals. He bought their lands
at a price equivalent to the advantages they
yielded to the original occupants; restrained
his people from all encroachments upon those
the Indians thought proper to retain; and so
inviolably kept sacred the stipulations of his
first purchase, that it has been said, with equal
truth and bitterness, that “it was the only
treaty not ratified by oaths, and the only one
that was never violated.”

By these means, and by the peaceful deportment
of his people on all occasions, William
Penn acquired and retained the confidence and
good-will of the Indians, in a degree of which
there are few examples. Indeed we may safely
say, that none, without resorting to the agency
of superstition or fear, ever attained so great an
influence over the violent, capricious, and

[figure description] Page 114.[end figure description]

intractable tempers of the savages of North
America; a singular race, with whom all attempts
at civilization only seem to destroy their
good qualities, and convert them from barbarians
into beasts.

The Big Hats, as the Indians called them,
were not unknown to some of the old men of the
tribes, who had treated and traded with them, at
Coaquanock, and who now received Shadrach
and his suite as old acquaintances. By means of
an interpreter, they entered on business forthwith.

“Thou comest as a friend,” said Ollentangi.

“Yea, verily,” quoth Shadrach; “I come
from William Penn, who is the friend of all
mankind, of all countries and colours. He hath
heard thou hast two white-men, and a maiden
with them, taken at the burning of Elsingburgh.
Verily, that was a bad act, sachems. What had
they done unto thee, that thou shouldst set fire
to their houses, and carry their women and
children into captivity? had they not buried
the hatchet and smoked the calumet with
thy tribe?”

“True,” replied Ollentangi, “but they had
killed our game, and shut out the fish from our
rivers, therefore we made war upon them.”

[figure description] Page 115.[end figure description]

“Yea, verily,” quoth Shadrach, who, by the
way, loved a controversy in a peaceable way,
almost as well as William Penn himself—“Yea,
verily, but the wild beasts of the forest belong
to any body; they are given to all that
can catch them. Neither are the fish thine,
since they swim through all parts of the great
seas, and wherever they will. Until thou shalt
catch them they are not thine.”

“True,” replied Ollentangi, with infinite gravity,
“but if the white-man prevents the fish
from coming to us, how can we catch them?
We shall starve in the mean while.”

“Verily,” quoth Shadrach, “I am fain to
confess the truth of thy words. There is no argument
so strong as necessity. But still thou
shouldst not have made war against them for
this. Thou shouldst have gone to law, and,
peradventure, obliged them in a peaceable manner
to break down the obstructions that did prevent
the fish from passing upwards.”

“True, brother,” rejoined Ollentangi—“we
have heard something of that same law. It is
a contest of talking, and he that talks the longest
wins the cause. Now you white-men can
out-talk us, and we can beat you in fighting.

[figure description] Page 116.[end figure description]

Should we not be great fools, to choose the former
mode of deciding our differences?”

“Yea, I must needs confess of a truth there is
some little shadow, as it were, a small modicum
of a glimmer of carnal reason in what thou
sayest. But verily I must not pretermit the
business of my mission, for the two captives are
kept all this while in a parlous condition. Art
thou ready to hear me in the spirit of peace?”

“Say on—in the spirit of peace,” replied
Ollentangi.

“In the spirit of peace, then,” quoth Shadrach,
raising himself on tiptoe, and cocking his
beaver, “in the spirit of peace I come from the
good William Penn, who is thy friend in the
gospel, (and, verily, considering thy Pagan
state, out of the gospel likewise,) to say unto
thee thus wise: Listen—I speak his words, and
not mine own.

“William Penn hath learned, by means of
the (I may say) providential agency of a certain
profane tie-wig, (which, judging from the bald
pate of yon captive, must have appertained unto
him,) that the people, (meaning thee,) calling
themselves (as I may say, idly and profanely,)
the Muskrats and Mud-Turtles, are in possession
of certain two white-men (who, I am inclined

[figure description] Page 117.[end figure description]

to believe, must be those tied to the stake close
by,) together, with a young maiden, daughter
to him who calleth himself the Heer Piper, (who
I must aver to be somewhat of an uncourteous
little man,) all three carried away captives from
the village of Elsingburgh. Now thus saith
William Penn: inasmuch as thou lovest good
watch-coats, he hath sent thee a score of these;
and inasmuch as thou lovest glass beads, and
other pernicious vanities of the flesh, (to say
nothing of the devil,) he hath sent thee ten
strings of these, wherewith to pamper the pride
of thy ears and noses; and inasmuch as thou
lovest tobacco, he hath sent thee threescore and
ten tin tobacco boxes, filled with that egregious
puffardo, called tobacco, (which, by the way,
I should hold in singular abomination, were it
not that it was hated by James, called the First,
that enemy to the saints.) For all which good
things, William Penn, as aforesaid, asketh nothing
but the freedom of the three aforesaid
captives, that they may be delivered to their
friends.”

“Brother,” quoth an old Indian, “brother,
thou hast forgotten one part of William Penn's
message.”

[figure description] Page 118.[end figure description]

“Yea, verily!” replied Shadrach, “what is
that?”

“It runneth thus,” replied the Indian: “And
inasmuch as thou lovest strong liquors, William
Penn hath sent thee two kegs of brandy,
wherewith to get right merry, and drink his
health.”

“Of a certainty, Muskrat,” said Shadrach,
“the truth is not in thee, for my message
hath nothing of such import appertaining to its
contents. William Penn dealeth not in rum,
brandy, or any other liquid abominations; neiher
is he moved by any kind of spirit but that of
righteousness. But do ye straightway consult
ogether what answer I am to bear with me to
Coaquanock.”

While the old men were consulting, Shadrach,
like a redoubtable plenipotentiary, caused the
watch coats, the glass beads, and the tobacco
boxes, to be ostentatiously displayed before the
longing eyes of the savages. The more they
looked, the more they waxed willing to surrender
the captives, until at length Ollentangi announced
to Shadrach, that they had no objection
to make the exchange, provided the widow,
who, as affianced to Koningsmarke, ought to
have a voice in his disposal, gave her consent.

[figure description] Page 119.[end figure description]

But that notable virago, on being applied to,
flatly refused to sanction the treaty, and loudly
demanded the sacrifice of her ungrateful slave,
who had scorned her love, and forsaken her for
a whey-faced girl. Hereupon, Shadrach Moneypenny
drew from his pouch a beautiful
string of sky-blue glass beads, which he courteously
and gallantly tied about the neck of the
inexorable widow. He then produced a small
looking glass, which he held up before her,
that she might see herself thus apparelled, making
her understand, at the same time, that these
things should be hers, provided she would consent
to the reprieve of Koningsmarke. The
widow's heart was melted; she acquiesced in
the freedom of her affianced husband, and departed,
with a delighted heart, to contemplate
herself and her beads in her looking-glass.

No obstacle now remained to the release of
the two captives, who had listened to this negotiation
with a breathless solicitude. They were
accordingly untied, washed, dressed, and conducted
to the hut where we left Christina and
the Indian maid. The meeting between the
former and Koningsmarke, after such a parting
as we have described, was accompanied by
feelings that, though repressed by the presence

[figure description] Page 120.[end figure description]

of the strangers, may be easily imagined. Immediate
preparations were made for their departure,
lest the savages might repent their bargain,
after the novelty of possessing the coats,
beads, and tin boxes had passed away. Poor Aonetti
was quite broken hearted at the parting with
her sister. She would have accompanied her,
but was prevented by her mother and friends.
Christina, too, could not, in the midst of the
new visions of joyous hope that danced before
her fancy, forget the gentle kindnesses, the sisterly
affection of the little Deer Eyes. But a
secret feeling which she could not repress, prevented
her encouraging the idea of Aonetti accompanying
her to Elsingburgh. She therefore
embraced her with tears, kissed her cheek,
and bade her sometimes remember her sister
Mimi. “Ah!” replied the artless maid, “I
know I should, I ought to be happy, for you and
he will be happy; but I shall be so miserable
when you are gone, that I shall soon die.—I
could have borne his death, for we would have
mourned together; but I cannot survive his departure
with you.” Shadrach now summoned
his troop, and the procession departed from the
village, to return no more.

Before we conclude this book, it may be

[figure description] Page 121.[end figure description]

proper to explain the causes which led to the release
of our three captives. The circumstance
may serve to show on what trifling chances the
fate of individuals sometimes turns. The Indian
belonging to the village on the Ohio, destroyed,
as we have related, by the Muskrats
and Mud-Turtles, who had obtained possession
of Lob Dotterel's wig, some time afterwards
visited Coaquanock, and carried that great medicine
with him. As may naturally be supposed,
such an appendage excited no little curiosity on
the part of the Big Hats; and a correspondent
of the Royal Society of England, just then established,
set about preparing a memoir upon
the subject, wherein he intended to prove, that
some of the Indian tribes wore wigs. Subsequent
inquiry, however, fully elucidated the
phenomenon, and the learned person threw his
memoir into the fire. The wig made no little
noise in the new world, insomuch that some of
the villagers occasionally neglected their own
affairs, to talk on the subject. But the good
William Penn, putting all the circumstances together,
had little doubt that the wig was connected
with the fate of the captives of Elsingburgh.
With that humanity which characterized
all his actions, he lost no time in preparing the

[figure description] Page 122.[end figure description]

mission of Shadrach Moneypenny, which happily
resulted in the redemption of our three
captives, as we have just related.

We must not omit mentioning, that the likely
fellow, Cupid, of whom we have of late said
nothing, because we had nothing to say, also
accompanied Shadrach, somewhat against his
will. He had lived a life of perfect freedom
and idleness, two things equally dear to his condition
and colour, the savages permitting him to
lounge about, and sun himself as much as he
pleased. Cupid, in the elevation of his heart,
at thus seeing himself turned gentleman, and
his old enemy, Lob Dotterel, obliged to labour
for his behoof, one day incautiously let out a
secret, which he might better have kept, as it
led to consequences that finally involved not
only himself in destruction, but caused also the
death of his grandmother, the sybil of the
Frizzled Head.

Omitting, at least for the present, the principal
incidents which befel Shadrach and his
party on their return to Coaquanock, we shall
merely remark, that honest Lob Dotterel continued,
during the whole journey, stupified
with the vicissitudes he had encountered
within a short time past. Nor did he

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exhibit any sign of consciousness till, on his arrival
at this renowned settlement, his wrath was
suddenly enkindled, at seeing a knot of little
children making dirt pies in the middle of the
street. Hereupon the soul of the high constable
of Elsingburgh, suddenly awaked
to a perception of passing objects; and he
threatened roundly to commit the juvenile offenders.

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BOOK SEVENTH.

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CHAPTER I.

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It is quite impossible for our readers to conceive
a tenth part of the yearnings we have endured
in the course of this work, in consequence
of not having been able, without committing
some unpardonable violence, to introduce to
their acquaintance and familiarity a single titled
person, for the purpose of giving dignity to distress,
and point to our jokes. The only man of
high rank, the honour of whose intimacy we enjoyed
in our travels abroad, was a certain Duke
Humphrey, with whom we occasionally dined.
But as, to say the truth, we can't declaim much in
favour of his dinners or his wine, we will not
trouble our readers with an introduction; for, to
be candid with them, his notice would confer no
great honour, the said Duke being generally

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surrounded by a set of hungry authors, who for the
most part did not know where else to get a dinner.

This incapacity we consider a most serious
misfortune, inasmuch as novel writers, we mean
those who aspire to the notice and approbation
of the beau monde, may be said to be in the predicament
of certain insignificant people, who derive
their sole consequence from the company
they affect to keep, and to which they take occasion
to introduce their friends. These aforesaid
persons, by affecting great intimacy with people
of rank, retailing their jokes, and sometimes pretending
to disclose their most secret thoughts,
acquire the reputation of high ton, and greatly
excite the wonder and admiration of the vulgar.
We recollect a good-natured, good-for-nothing
sort of fellow of this kind, who made it his sole
business to introduce a certain great man, with
whom he was a kind of hanger-on, to all his little
acquaintance. By this means he managed to
attain to great consequence, in a certain circle,
and got numerous invitations to dinner parties.
Nay, he at last turned his great man to so good
an account, that a city heiress actually was
induced to marry him, solely on the score of having
it announced in the papers, that his great

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friend was at the wedding and gave away the
bride.

We have endeavoured to make all the amends
possible for the absence of what constitutes the
quintessence of the interest arising from works
of imagination by the introduction of persons
coming as near to kings and nobility, as any that
are the natural product of our country. But,
after all, we are obliged to confess, that Indian
monarchs, provincial governors, nay, our good
friend William Penn himself, though the illustrious
founder of what may almost be called
an empire, are but poor substitutes for
dukes and earls, whose very titles tickle the
fancy so delightfully, that the reader seems all
the while swimming in an ocean of peacock's
feathers.

True it is, that we have a knight—not a knight
errant, but a genuine knight of James the First's
own dubbing, in reserve, as a sort of bonne bouche
for the last, in order to leave an agreeable impression
on the palate of the reader's imagination.
But, after all, what is a mere knight? they are so
plenty now-a-days in Old England, especially
ever since the battle of Waterloo, that the title
has not been able to entrap a single city heiress.
“Your thirty pound knights,” as an old

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dramatist calls them, who have barely enough to pay
for their spurs, swarm exceedingly, and are uncommonly
anxious to make every rich plebeian
Joan they meet, a lady. Nay, not a few of the
species have lately infested our country, and, by
their actual presence, irretrievably robbed the
fashionable young ladies of one of their favourite
subjects of contemplation, by giving a clear demonstration
that, whatever a king, a duke, or a
lord may be, a knight is but a mere man with a
“Sir” to his name. Such as he is, however, we
beg the reader to make the most of him, when
he vouchsafes his appearance.

To confess the honest truth, we are, as has
been most likely discovered ere this, rather
new in the trade of novel writing, having been
partly induced to enter upon it, as people engage
in the tobacco or grocery line, from seeing others
prosper mightily in the business. But we shall do
better hereafter, having felt the want of a hero and
heroine of proper rank most sorely in the course
of this work. We take this opportunity of advertising
our friends, and the public in general,
that we have at present six new historical novels
on the anvil, one of which, we have contracted
with our bookseller to hammer out every twelvemonth,
and each of which shall contain one

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legitimate, tyrannical king at least, provided there
should be a sufficient number remaining unhanged
at that time. We have also stipulated with
our publisher, that not one of the characters
shall be below a right honourable, or an Irish
peer, at least. Advising our readers to keep a
good look out for these high treats, we now proceed
with the thread of our history.

CHAPTER II.

Accursed be the stars * * * * * * * * *!
The fulsome sun, that shines on all alike,
Good, bad, indifferent, Tag, Rag, and Bobtail!
Satan's abus'd, and so is honest Cain,
And so am I—but * * * * * * * *!
Lord B—n.

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It is now time to return, and take a look at
the worthy inhabitants of Elsingburgh, who had
long ago rebuilt their habitations, and were now
each one pursuing his usual avocations, under
the salutary pressure of that necessity, which
obliges mankind to forget the past, in providing
for the wants of the present and the future.

As we before premised, the house of Dominie
Kanttwell was rebuilt and furnished, by the pious
exertions of his flock, before any body else had
provided for his own necessities; and, notwithstanding
the zeal with which that worthy
man declaimed against good works, on this occasion
he was pleased to exempt those which
were done in his especial behoof from his

[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]

malediction. Indeed, it must be confessed, the Dominie
looked upon charity, especially that charity
which was exercised in his own favour, as
belonging to a species of good works, which
might, under certain circumstances, be tolerated.
Still he continued to rail against the luxuries
and indulgences of this world, although
his capacious rotundity of figure, his double
chin, and large square silver buckles, furnished
shrewd indications, that the Dominie did not feel
it absolutely necessary to reinforce his precepts
by the authority of his example.

The good aunt Edith, according to the testimony
of Dominie Kanttwell, who had lately
induced her to make a will in favour of the
church, grew every day more perfect. So far
did she carry her contempt for the things of this
world, that she extended it to all mankind, except
a small circle of the elect, who listened to
her edifying instructions, and talked scandal
against all the rest of the villagers, whom they
were pleased to denominate “vessels of wrath.”
Considering all these as objects of the Divine
vengeance, the good people thought themselves
bound to hate them also, and to decline any exchange
of kindness or social intercourse with
such wicked sinners. These simple,

[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]

well-meaning souls, thought that they became saints, by
strictly following the example of aunt Edith and
the Dominie. But they were mistaken. They
became spiritually proud, (the worst species of
pride,) hard-hearted, arrogant, and supercilious,
to all but the chosen set; incapable of social or
kindred affection; strangers to the indulgence
of pity; bad fathers, mothers, husbands, and
wives; and incorrigible in their faults, because
they cherished them as virtues. In fine, while
complacently viewing themselves as exclusively
belonging to the elect, they treated all others as
outcasts; as beings having no sort of affinity
with themselves, and no common interest with
them, either in this world or the world to come.
Hence, all the kindnesses of good neighbourhood,
the civilities of social life, the customary
exchange of acts of courtesy and friendship, all
those little ties which knit society together by
the best bonds, those of mutual benefits, producing
mutual good will—all these gave place to
a harsh contempt, an arrogant superiority, on
one hand, and a settled hatred, or contemptuous
indifference, on the other. Such is ever the result
of carrying to extremes the application of
those excellent precepts, which were doubtless
only intended to check, but not destroy, those

[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]

worldly feelings and pursuits, which are essential,
not only to the happiness, but the very existence
of mankind, and are only pernicious to
society, or individuals, when operating without
either moral or religious restraints.

As to the good aunt Edith, she might with
truth be said to wallow every day deeper and
deeper in the mire of pious abstraction. Her
time, during the intervals between going to church,
night meetings, and love feasts, was usually
passed in bed, where she kept all the family
waiting upon her, and where she and the virago,
Bombie of the Frizzled Head, used to have divers
keen encounters of that sharpest of all sharp
weapons, the tongue. While the disconsolate
Heer, to whom she was indebted for an asylum,
a home, and all the comforts of life, was
sitting in solitary sorrow, remembering and lamenting
his gentle and affectionate child, without
a soul to sympathize in his cureless grief,
the excellent Edith, considering him as little
better than one of the wicked, paid no attention
to his infirmities or his woes, except occasionally
to comfort him with the assurance that the
loss of his only child was a judgment upon him,
for loving her better than the church and the
Dominie.

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Sometimes the Frizzled Head, who, though a
shrew and a termagant of the first order, was
not altogether destitute of that carnal and
worldly-minded sympathy, which is held in
such abomination by the elect, when exercised
towards the sinful sons and daughters of men,
would prepare some favourite dish, or little
nick-nack, to tempt the waning appetite of her
master. But so sure as aunt Edith heard of
this, though ever so sick and weak, she would
rise from her bed, as it were by miracle, lay
violent hands on the portion of the good Heer,
who fared, on these occasions like poor Esau,
and carry it off to comfort Dominie Kanttwell,
or some one of the elect who had caught cold
attending upon a night meeting. Indeed, it was
the great object of the Dominie's policy, to govern
the community of Elsingburgh, by establishing
a sort of imperium in imperio in
every house of the village. This he effected by
gaining an ascendency over the married females,
and thus governing the household, in
spite of the sinful and inordinate grumblings of
its liege and legitimate lord. Some people may
think this mode of acquiring influence was not
exactly either fair or honest; but it is not our
business (being bachelors) to contest the point.

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We only profess to tell what is necessary to the
progress and final catastrophe of our history.

Numerous, not to say innumerable, were the
little societies established, under the influence
and patronage of aunt Edith and Dominie
Kanttwell, whose industry in collecting donations
from men, women, and children, was such,
that there was not a bit of molasses candy, or
pennyworth of gingerbread, wickedly devoured
by the little urchins of Elsingburgh. All went
to the Dominie, and through him—nobody
knew where. One society was the parent of
half a dozen more, until they multiplied so fast,
that the good women of the village had no time
to attend to domestic affairs; and no traveller
could sojourn a night at Elsingburgh, without
rising pale in the morning, in consequence of
having sufficed to satiate the appetites of innumerable
caitiffs of the carniverous species,
whose numbers always furnish shrewd indications
of good or evil housekeeping. The Dominie
was the prime mover of all these, and it
was observed of him, that, like Goldsmith's
“man in black,” he always went about with his
three-cornered cocked hat, to collect subscriptions,
but never was seen to put any thing in it
himself. Hence it was affirmed by his

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admirers, that he was a truly charitable person, who
hated ostentation, and always gave in secret.
Like Falstaff, however, though nobody, such
was the care he took to avoid discovery, ever
detected him in being charitable himself, he was
certainly the cause of charity in others. So
much, indeed, did he excel in the art of levying
contributions on the necessities of the poor, that,
at one period of our history, there was hardly a
labouring man in the village that had a whole
coat to his back, or a child that was not sorely
out at the elbows; nay, it may with perfect veracity
be affirmed, that the majority of them
were in the situation of the veritable “Dicky
Doubt,” as set forth in the famous couplet of
which Dicky is the hero. The following colloquy,
between a worthy, hard-working man,
called Fospe Ontstout, and his wife, relative to
these matters, has been preserved by the Historical
Society of Elsingburgh, and will better
illustrate the effects of the Dominie's exertions,
than any general details. There is a notice of
Fospe Ontstout appended to the article, stating,
that, being at length reduced to actual poverty,
by the attention his wife paid to every body's
wants and affairs but those of her family, and
the charity she bestowed every where but at

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home, he retrieved his affairs entirely, by the
lucky thought of getting appointed beggar to
two or three societies: “thus,” as the old sly
boots of an author adds, “thus cunnynglie deportynge
hymselfe, belike untoe certaine greenehornes,
who, after beyinge sorely plucked, doe
incontinentlye turne ymselves aboute, and plucke
others ynne theire turne.” It is likewise noted
in the old manuscript, that Fospe's wife was a
plump, rosy-faced dame, and reckoned one of
the prettiest women in the whole village.

It was a cold, raw evening, and Fospe, after
being out all day in the sleet and rain cutting
wood, returned home, cold, wet, and hungry,
and addressed his wife as follows:

Fospe. Terese, my good girl, my feet are
as wet as a drowned rat. Give me a pair of dry
stockings from those I bought the other day of
the pedler from New-York.

Terese. I can't, my dear; I gave them all to
the society last night. The Dominie says we
must give all our sparings to the poor, and tells
us we shall never miss what we give away in this
manner.

Fospe. Hum! I wish the Dominie would
make his words good, for I feel just now very uncomfortable,
and miss very much the dry

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stockings you gave away to the society. But I suppose
there's no help for it; so, as I have no money
just now, I must borrow the shilling I gave
Hans for Christmas, and step over to the shop to
buy a pair.

Terese. But, my dear, Hans has parted with
his money already.

Fospe. What, the young rogue has been at
the cake-shop, I suppose?

Terese. No, my dear, Dominie Kanttwell
persuaded us to give it to the society, and promised
to mention Hans, in his sermon next Sunday,
before the whole congregation.

Fospe. Well, what's done can't be undone;
we must sell the pig, for my stockings are not
only wet, but worn out, and I must have a dry
pair, wife.

Terese. To-be-sure, but, my dear, the pig is
gone too.

Fospe. What, has he run away, or been stolen?

Terese. No, my dear; but the Dominie begged
him for the society: he assured me the pig
would be returned tenfold to us.

Fospe. Um! ay! Well, Terese, just run to
the pig-stye, and see if the ten pigs have arrived.
We must part with one of them immediately.

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But stay; it is wet, and you'd better not go out
this evening. Call Hans, and I'll send him.

Terese. Here he comes, my dear.

Fospe. Why, he looks like a beggar's brat,
all in rags. I wish, my dear, you would mend
his trowsers, for you see his knees are all naked.

Terese. I would, my dear, but really I havn't
time. The society has agreed to make up six
dozen suits for the poor children of Greenland,
who, the Dominie assures us, are starving with
cold, and all my time is taken up in labouring
for these dear little sufferers. The Dominie says
it will bring a blessing on the family.

Fospe. Well, well, the Dominie, I dare say,
is right. Here, Hans, run to the pig stye, and
see if the ten pigs are come.

Terese. Lord, my dear, you don't—you're
not such a fool as to believe they are come already.

Fospe. Why not, my dear? The Dominie
told you so, and every thing he says is true.
But, my dear, what have you got for supper?
you know I've had nothing since breakfast.
Can't you cook some of the fat venison, left this
morning?—come, bustle, my dear, I'm as hungry
as a wolf.

[figure description] Page 142.[end figure description]

Terese. But, my dear, all the fat venison is
gone; I—

Fospe. What! you, and Hans, and the rest
of the fat rogues, have made away with it, hey?
Well, never mind, I'm glad you've got good stomachs
and something to fill them.

Terese. No, no, my dear, we made our dinner
of the fresh fish you caught yesterday, from
under the ice. The Dominie begged the venison
for a poor family, he said had given all they
could spare to the society, and were now sick
and starving.

Fospe. Very well, Terese, we mustn't refuse
to help people that are sick and starving. But
though I'm not sick, I'm almost starved myself.
Do bake me a warm Indian cake, will you?
come, that's a good girl.

Terese. I would, my dear, but how worldly
minded you are! The Dominie says we mustn't
think of such things: don't you see the fire is
all gone out?

Fospe. Yes, and feel it too; but how came
you to let it go out, my dear, this raw, cold day?

Terese. Why, my dear, Dominie Kanttwell
called for me to go with him to a meeting, and
so—

[figure description] Page 143.[end figure description]

Fospe. Hum! but what became of the children
while you were gone?

Terese. Why, I locked them all up together,
and put out the fire, for fear of accidents.

Fospe. Careful mother! Well, I'll go and
make a fire, and then you shall bake me the Indian
cake, while I dry myself by the blaze.

Terese. Yes, my dear, but—

Fospe. But what, Terese?

Terese. Why, to tell you the truth, my dear,
I am engaged to go with the Dominie to a love
feast this evening, and it is now about the time.
The Dominie says, that baking cakes, mending
our children's clothes, and all that, is but filthy
rags, compared with love feasts and prayer meetings.

The patience of poor Fospe was now quite
exhausted;—“the d—l take the Dominie,” cried
he, “I wish he had my wet feet and empty stomach
for his night's portion with all my heart.”
Just then the Dominie entered, with a stately step,
and sonorous “hem!” that awed the spirit of the
good yeoman into silent acquiescence. Terese
put on her bonnet and cloak, and accompanied
the Dominie to the love feast, whence she did
not return till almost midnight. Poor Fospe
went to bed wet and hungry, and could not help

[figure description] Page 144.[end figure description]

thinking, as he said his prayers, that the Dominie
might be better employed than in teaching
well-meaning women, that the neglect of their
domestic duties in this world was the surest
passport to happiness in the world to come.

Before concluding this chapter, it is our desire
to have it distinctly understood, that we enter
not, either directly or indirectly, upon any
questions connected with religious controversies
or the utility of any of those numerous societies,
which the zeal, the humanity, or the ostentatious
vanity of mankind have instituted for the
propagation of the faith, or the alleviation of
distress. All we design is, to relate what
happened in the famous village of Elsingburgh;
and if, in so doing, it should appear that indiscreet
zeal, sometimes, is found at war with social
duties and social happiness, and that ill-directed
charity often improverishes the industrious without
relieving the idle, let us not be blamed for
these consequences. They only furnish additional
proof, that excess is in itself the root
of all evil, and that whenever the blessed institution
of religion interferes with our social
and moral obligations, it ceases to be the conservator
of human happiness, as well as of human
virtue. As the excesses of sensual

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

indulgence destroy the capacity for more refined
gratifications, so do those of a fanatical religion
blight and wither the most amiable feelings of the
heart, rendering us insensible to many of the purest,
the most exalted delights of which our nature
is susceptible.

CHAPTER III.

“Let fools gaze
At bearded stars, it is all one to me
As if they had been shaved.
I will out-beard a comet any day.
Or night either, marry.”

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

All this while the poor Heer remained without
a hope, without a comforter, his mind ever
running on the blue-eyed maiden he had, peradventure,
lost for ever. The judgment which,
according to aunt Edith's theory, had fallen
upon his head, for the punishment of his sinful
delights in contemplating the mild virtues and
gentle, unobtrusive charms of his duteous, affectionate
daughter, seemed only to bind him more
closely to the earth, for he could think of naught
but her. There is no surer sign of a profound
and lasting wound of the heart, than when we
turn in sickening disgust from those little
amusements, habits, or gratifications, which long
custom has either endeared to us, or rendered
difficult to shake off. Thus the good Heer now

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

never was seen to smoke his pipe at morn or evening,
or heard to swear in classic High Dutch,
sure evidences that his heart was almost broken.
His sole employment was in doing nothing, although
he was incapable of sitting still more
than a minute at a time. Like Bombie of the
Frizzled Head, he wandered and wandered about,
seeming without purpose, or even consciousness,
until some sound, some object, some
nothing, as it would seem, struck upon one of
those chords by which every thing that is beautiful
or sweet in nature is connected with the
memory of those we love, and have lost. Then
his trembling lip, and wan, wet eye, bore testimony,
that the light still continued to burn,
though the lamp which held it seemed quite broken
to pieces.

He no longer took an interest in the affairs of his
government, which now fell into the hands of master
Wolfgang Langfanger, who thereupon took his
full swing of public improvements. He caused
new streets to be opened in every direction across
the fields, which the good people of Elsingburgh
avoided in dry weather on account of the dust,
and in wet, on account of the mud. Thus the
fine grassy lawns, and rich fields, that whilome
yielded a golden harvest of grain, were cut up and

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

laid waste, to wait till the village should grow over
them. The unlucky proprietors were in this
way, as it were, cut with a two-edged sword;
they were obliged to pay for these improvements,
and at the same time lost the products of their
fields. But the masterpiece of Langfanger's
policy was that of pulling down an old market,
and building a new one in another part of the
village, in the management of which business he
is supposed to have laid down the first principles
of the great and thriving science of political
economy, or picking people's pockets on a great
scale. He caused the people living near the
old market to pay roundly for its removal as a
nuisance; and then he caused the people that
lived about where the new one was to be built,
to pay roundly for the vast pleasure and advantage
of its neighbourhood. Thus he pinched
them through both ears, and got the reputation
of a great financier.

There was muckle scratching of heads at Elsingburgh,
and serious complaints made to the
Governor; but that good man paid little or no
attention either to his own wants or to those of
his people. He was, indeed, desolate and forlorn.
The Dominie now seldom came near
him, because he refused to be comforted by his

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

assurances that the loss of his only child was a
great blessing, if properly considered; aunt
Edith was quite elevated above the world and
all things in it, save the meeting of the elect at
societies, love feasts, and the like. She held
such bereavements as the loss of children, parents,
friends, and brothers, as trifles which affected
none save the worldly minded, the chosen
vessels of wrath; and considered the performance
of domestic duties as among the filthiest of
those filthy rags, miscalled good works. Nay,
the veritable Bombie of the Frizzled Head, although
she continued duteously to serve up the
favourite dish of pepperpot at supper time, obstinately
refused to sympathize with him in the
extremity of his sorrows.

“Ah! if my poor lost Christina were here,”
would he sometimes exclaim, when any little
string was touched that brought her loss home
to him—“ah! if she were here, I should not be
left thus alone. But what is an old man like
me, without the tender and duteous ministrations
of a virtuous daughter? he is a trunk,
whose roots are decayed—whose branches are
blighted—whose heart, hollow and decayed, is
only the refuge of the worm that never dies.
Snow Ball, witch, devil, whatever thou art, tell

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

me, dost thou think I shall ever see my poor
Christina more?”

“I have seen what I have seen—I know what
I know.”

“Well, well,” impatiently rejoined the Heer;
“I suppose you do; most people can say that
of themselves. But hast thou seen, and dost
thou know, more than other people? Answer
me, scourge of satan—dost thou think we shall
ever meet again?”

“There—perhaps,” replied the Frizzled
Head, pointing her horn-headed stick towards
the blue sky, that was studded with stars, among
which the new crescent of the moon held its
course, like a bark of pearl in a sea of azure—
“there, where the purified spirit finds its last
serene abode—or”—dropping her stick to point
to the earth—“there, where”—

“Away, thou screeching day-owl,” interrupted
the Heer; “blasted be the heart that conceived,
the breath that shall utter such a prophecy!
Why, I—I indeed have sometimes
soiled my immortal spirit with the stain of
worldly sins; but she—Oh! she was pure as
the flake of snow in its midway flight from the
heavens, ere it reaches this contaminated earth;
she was”—

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

“Ay, Heer, she was—and which of us, in
looking back, cannot put our finger on the point
of time when we too were innocent? Months
have passed away, since thy daughter left thee,
but in less time than that, according to thy book
of faith, the angels lost their place in heaven;
a third part of the stars that glittered around
the throne of Him who made us all, black,
red, and white, alike, tumbled to the earth—ay,
lower than the earth—into the bottomless gulf;
he who was called the Son of the Morning, fell
among the rest, and foremost of them all. Wilt
thou say, then, that because thy daughter was
pure and innocent months ago, she must of necessity
be so still?”

“Pestilent imp of darkness, seed of sulphur,
scourge of my blasted hopes, torturer of my broken
heart,” cried the Heer, “be silent, or tell
me what thou really knowest of my lost child.”

“I know,” replied the Frizzled Head, “that she
still lives, for had she died, I should have seen
and spoken with her, ere her body had passed
into the tomb. I know she lives, but that is all I
know. Whether thou wilt ever see her, here or
hereafter, I cannot tell; and if I cannot, none
other can; for I have seen what I have seen—I
know what I know. I saw thy child carried like

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

a lamb from its fold, in company with the wolf
that seeks to devour her; I warned him by the
memory of the past, the hope of the future; I
adjured him by the fate of the mother, by
the kindness of the father, the affection of the
daughter, by all that good men hold sacred and
villains scorn, to be unto her a true and watchful
shepherd: he appealed to heaven he would.
But if man is a wolf to man, what is he to woman?
At first, the cringing slave, and next the
unfeeling tyrant.”

“But, shall I see her again before I die?”
reiterated the Heer, who, in the weakness of sorrow,
sought to wring from the Frizzled Head,
even what he would not dare to believe when it
was uttered.

“The revolving sun often brings every thing
back to where it was before. Thou mayst, perhaps,
see her again; she may one day come to
thee, when she hath forgotten herself and her parent;
when time, and hardships, and the example
of those around her, have worn out all traces of
thy gentle, delicate and duteous daughter. She
may return with a painted face, and limbs dilated
into a clumsy magnitude, by toil and exposure to
the wintry winds, and the labours which brutal
man puts on our sex, when neither honour nor

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

shame restrains his wanton tyranny; she may
come with a pappoose!”

“Hence!” burst forth the almost maddened
Heer; “hence, wholesale dealer in the devil's
haberdashery; away! offspring of wrath and
fire; drown thyself in the river, hang thyself on
the highest tree of the forest, or rather live, and
waste away thy black and blasted flesh in tortures,
such as thou hast inflicted upon a poor,
childless old man—begone, and der teufel hole
dich.”

This was the first time the Heer had relapsed into
High Dutch since the loss of Christina, and, if
the truth were known, it is believed the Frizzled
Head purposely provoked him in this manner,
that he might sometimes forget his daughter in rage
against his slave. But she failed in her object.
The anger of the master was momentary; the
grief of the father was without end.

CHAPTER IV.

“Were it not that I pity the multitude of printers, these
chapters had never been written. But besides, I find it necessary
to refresh my dulness every day by eating, for, by'r
Lady, Minerva loves the larder.”

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

After a conversation similar to that recorded
in the last chapter, the Heer seated himself disconsolately
in his old arm chair, and was silently
and sorrowfully contemplating a picture,
representing his little daughter Christina, then
about a year old, nestling on the bosom
of her mother, now no more. As a specimen
of art the picture was not worth a stiver; but
the Heer would not have parted with it for the
whole wealth of his territory, for it was almost
the only memorial, save that which he carried
in his old broken heart, of the two beings he had
loved better than all the world besides. While
thus seated, the good Heer communed with his
heart, in something like the following soliloquy:

“Ah! wife of my bosom, and daughter of
my affections, ye are gone from me, though in the

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

common course of nature I should rather have departed
before you. Alas! a wifeless and childless
old man is like the withered trunk of a tree,
whose branches have all been lopped off close
to its body; without verdure, without leaves,
without life, it stands bare to the winds
of heaven, the emblem of sterility and decay.
No bird nestles in its leafy covert—no animal
seeks a shelter in its shade—no little suckers
shoot forth from its sapless roots, to indicate
where the old trunk decayed and died. Where
are ye now, my companion in youth, my solace
in declining age? The one is a saint in heaven—
but the other! my sprightly, kind-hearted,
duteous daughter! Her eyes, the colour of
Heaven, are long ere this closed in darkness;
her cheeks, the colour of the rose, are clay cold
and blanched now—the prey of sorrow, and
the worms. Or perhaps she still lives, a wretched
outcast of the woods, the companion of wild
beasts, the slave of men wilder than they;
shut out from her customary society, deprived
of the solace of parental affection, and robbed of
all that makes existence aught but a weary burden,
a weight that crushes the elastic spirit to the
earth, and points it to the grave as its only

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

refuge. My daughter! my only, my beloved
child!”

As the Heer thus indulged himself in
melancholy ponderings, his attention was called
off by a distant noise, that came to his ear
like the shouts of joyful exultation. He listened,
but again all was silent. What can it
mean thought he. But the thought was only
momentary, and he sunk into his usual train
of dark and dismal contemplation. Again
the shout was repeated, still nearer, by the noisy
tongues of the village train, whose elastic spirits
were ever ready to seize occasions for noise
and jollity. Nearer, and still nearer, came the
rout, until at length the attention of the Heer
was roused by something which struck upon his
heart like a repetition of Christina's name. He
started up, and, hurrying with faltering steps to
the window, beheld, a little way off, a crowd of
people, in the midst of which seemed to be a
tall, stately figure, mounted on horseback, with
something that looked like a woman seated behind
him. The waning lamp of his aged eyes
would not permit him to distinguish any more.
Yet—and the hope glanced upon his heart
like lightning—yet, if it should be her, returning
at last to his arms! As the eye, when long

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

accustomed to darkness, shuts close its lids at
the slightest ray of light, so does the mortal spirit,
weakened by age, long suffering, melancholy
thoughts, and dark forebodings, become
overpowered by the first ray of hope that glances
into its gloomy recesses. It often happens,
too, that the ardent desire to realize a darling
hope, is checked by an apprehension that certainty,
instead of leading to fruition, will only
lead to disappointment. To minds naturally
weak, or weakened by long suffering, uncertainty
is less painful than to know the worst.

From one or both these causes, the good
Heer, instead of going forth to learn the truth,
returned trembling to his chair and there sat
waiting, almost in a state of insensibility, the approach
of the crowd.

“My father! where, where is he?” exclaimed
a voice that went to the innermost soul of the
Heer, who sat riveted to his chair, without the
power of speech or motion. A moment after,
a figure rushed in and threw herself at his feet,
kissed his hands, and wept upon them.

“My father, hast thou forgotten Christina,—
or, Oh! heavenly powers! perhaps he has forgotten
himself! speak to me, dear father, or kiss

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

me, or press my hand—Oh, do something to show
thou rememberest and lovest thy child.”

The Heer pressed her hand, in token that he
had not forgotten his daughter, but it was some
minutes before he became sufficiently recovered
to take her to his bosom, weep over, and bless
her. When he did, the scene was so moving,
that the spectators shed tears of sympathy; and
even the dry and parched cheeks of Shadrach
Moneypenny exhibited indications of moisture.

“But you must thank my deliverers,” said
Christina, when the first strong feelings of joy
had subsided.

“And who are they?” answered the Heer,
wiping his eyes and looking round. “Ah! Long
Finne, art thou there? I dare almost swear thou
hadst a hand in my daughter's preservation:
come hither, boy, thou art thrice welcome. Is
it not so, Christina?”

“I owe my life to him,” replied Christina,
“but not my liberty, father.”

“To whom then? if he is present, I will hug
him in my arms; if absent, I will seek him
through the world but I will thank him; if he be
poor, I will make him rich; if he be rich, he shall
have my everlasting gratitude. Stand forth,
whoever thou art; the guilty, are not ashamed

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

of their evil deeds—why should the virtuous blush
for theirs?”

The stiff and upright form of Shadrach Moneypenny
now advanced with measured steps towards
the Heer, who, on perceiving it approaching,
started up, and hugged Shadrach, with
such good will, that the head of the Governor
actually dislodged the hat of the other, and it
fell to the floor. Shadrach stooped down with
great deliberation, and, picking up the hat, placed
it on his head and said—

“Take notice, friend Piper, I pulled not off
mine own hat, in reference to thy dignity, or
that of thy master, the bloody-minded man who
carrieth the gospel of peace upon the incarnadined
point of his sword. It fell by accident,
verily.”

“Be it so,” returned the Heer; “thou shalt
wear thy beaver in the presence of kings, nay,
of the King of kings, if thou likest, my noble
benefactor, to whom I owe more than I can
ever pay.”

“I am not thy benefactor, friend Piper,”
quoth Shadrach, “and thou owest me no more
than that good will which we are enjoined to
bear towards all our neighbours. What I have
done was by the command (or rather, at the

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

request) of William Penn, (for we obey no orders
from any man, or body of men, except we
list,) who sent me forthwith into the wilderness,
with store of glass beads, tobacco, and the like,
to redeem thy daughter, together with him they
call the Long Finne; likewise friend Dotterel,
commonly denominated among the aboriginals
the Jumping Sturgeon; and lastly, the coloured
lad, bearing the heathen appellative of Cupid,
the which I do intreat thee, as a particular favour,
to have christened over again, in which
case I will accord myself to stand godfather.”

“Well, then,” replied the Heer, “I shall bethink
myself of some means worthily and magnificently
to reward both the good William
Penn and all those who have been the instruments
of his benevolence in the redemption of
my dear child, whose return to my bosom is as
the warmth of spring to the torpid animals of the
forest.”

“William Penn wants no rewards, neither do
I,” quoth Shadrach. “When he despatched
me forth into the wilderness, and I departed in
accordance with his wishes, it was not as if on
an expedition of trade or profit. We will exchange
with thee good offices, but we cannot sell
them.”

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

“Well, but, der teufel,” replied the Heer, a
rittle ruffled—

“Swear not at all,” interrupted Shadrach—
“friend Piper, swear not at all. And, now I bethink
me, if thou wishest to exhibit thy gratitude
to William Penn, or me, his chosen vessel, let it be
in the utter abandonment of that unseemly custom,
which, I am aggrieved to say, savours of the
company and good fellowship of Sathan and
his imps.”

At any other time, this sally of Shadrach
would have brought the wrath of the Heer upon
him, in a great tempest of expletives; but now
he had got his daughter's hand in his, while
she herself was seated on the little stool, which
whilome supported his gouty foot, and felt so
happy at the moment, that he had neither room
nor words for any other feeling.

“Say, then,” said he at length, in reply to
Shadrach's exhortation—“say that I will come
myself, and thank him for having restored to me
my child; and think to thyself that I will never
forget thy good offices.”

“I will so say,” rejoined Shadrach. “And
now, albeit I have finished my mission, and
done the bidding (or rather the request) of William
Penn, I will essay my return from whence

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

I came. Farewell, friend Piper—swear not
at all.”

Shadrach then shook hands with the Governor,
the Long Finne, and the likely fellow Cupid,
whom he exhorted to take to himself a new
name of Christian seemliness. He also looked
about for the Jumping Sturgeon, who, however,
was found wanting, being at that time busily
employed in keeping order among his old enemies,
the roystering urchins of Elsingburgh. The
spirit then moved Shadrach Moneypenny to approach
the fair Christina, which he did with
great gallantry, his beaver being up in front.

“Maiden,” quoth Shadrach, “umph! verily
thou art fair, and comely therewithal: will
shake hands with thee for old acquaintance sake.
Verily, I say again, thou art exceeding fair and
comely: I will salute thee, maiden, being thereunto
moved by having sojourned with thee in the
wilderness. Verily, I say a third time, maiden,
thou art altogether and without equal fair and
comely; I will embrace thee in the spirit, being
thereunto moved by”—

But Shadrach, as he opened his arms to carry
into execution his sober wishes, like another
Ixion, embraced a cloud. Christina had taken
advantage of his habit of elevating his eyes to

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

the ceiling, to slip away, unperceived by the good
man, who, without the least appearance of being
ruffled and disquieted at the disappointment,
gravely observed that the maiden was over bashful.
He then turned himself as on a pivot, and
departed amid the grateful thanks of all, save
the Long Finne, who never forgave Shadrach
the sin of having touced the red lip of Christina.

CHAPTER V.

“Most heart-commanding faced gentlewoman, even as the
stone in India called basilinus hurts all that look on it, and
as the serpent in Arabia called smaragdus delighteth the sight,
so does thy celestial, orb-assimilating eyes both please, and,
pleasing, pain my love-darted heart.”

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

When Shadrach Moneypenny had gathered
himself together, and departed for Coaquanock,
the Heer and his little party, being left alone,
drew into a circle, and began to compare notes
one with another. Perhaps one of the most
pleasing results of the meeting of long separated
friends is this mutual interchange of the relations
of past events. Our little self-love is gratified
in telling all that has happened to us, and
our curiosity, perhaps a better feeling, feasted
with the chronicle of what has befallen others.
Alternately the hero and the auditor of these
domestic legends, each one enjoys a temporary
hour of supremacy, and all are pleased, because
all have their turn in talking. The happy
Heer, seated between his daughter and the

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

Long Finne, holding a hand of the former,
questioned, and answered, and listened, and
talked, like a boy; for the return of his darling
had made him feel young again.

The party consisted only of the three, with
the occasional intrusion of the Frizzled Head,
and her likely grandson, who, under various
pretences, went and came, without having any
positive errand to justify the intrusion. The
good aunt Edith was, as usual, lying abed, too
sick even to admit of a visit from her niece,
which she feared might agitate her so much
that she would not be able to attend a prayer
meeting on the ensuing evening. The worthy
Dominie Kanttwell, too, was either engaged, or
pretended to be so, and came not to congratulate
the Heer on the return of his only child
from captivity among the wild men of the
woods. Indeed, it was shrewdly suspected, that
the good man, as well as aunt Edith, were both
somewhat mortified at the failure of their favourite
doctrine of temporal judgments, on this
occasion, as exemplified in the happy return
of Christina; and there were those who did not
scruple to insinuate, that the Dominie was sorely
wounded in spirit, at the downfall of a
plan for benefiting the church, which depended

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

on the absence of the fair Christina, and a certain
alteration in the Heer's will, which he did
not despair of bringing about in time.

“Ah! poor Ludwig!” cried the Heer, as
Koningsmarke related the manner in which he
had cheated the savages of their bloody feast—
“ah! brave, merry, thoughtless, swearing
rogue! he lived only for the present breath he
drew, and thought not of the next moment, much
less of the morrow. Jolly Varlett! he was
as brave as the great Gustavus, not to mention
another person, whose name it would not become
me to utter, being that self-praise is but
another name for self-blame. He used to say,
that a man who feared not what the present moment
could bring, yet shrunk from the next,
was like a superstitious blockhead, that would
wrestle with flesh and blood, and run away from
his own shadow. Honest Wolfgang Langfanger
and he could never agree, for Wolfgang
thought nothing of the present, I mean in a
worldly point of view, while Ludwig held, that
in the firm of Past, Present, and Future, the first
and the last were little more than sleeping partners.
Ah! pleasant, merry Varlett! would I
could hear him swear again! But now,” continued
the Heer, addressing himself to

[figure description] Page 167.[end figure description]

Koningsmarke—“now tell me about thyself. How
didst thou live, and how did my poor little girl
endure the savage thraldom—hey? Thy hand
is not so soft nor so white as it used to be, my
daughter,” said he, as he pressed it tenderly in
his own.

This led to a recapitulation of the events detailed
in our preceding chapters, in which Christina
and Koningsmarke, alternating, related their dangers
and sufferings, omitting certain tender
scenes, only interesting to the performers. The
Heer alternately laughed and wept. As they
related the adventures of Lob Dotterel's wig, and
the adoption of that trusty officer into the tribe
of the Muskrats, he indulged in bursts of merriment,
and ever after called him by the name of
the Jumping Sturgeon. The sufferings of his
dear child melted his heart; and when she told
him of the kindness of little Aonetti, the Deer
Eyes, he declared his determination to have her
sought out, and brought to Elsingburgh, that
he might reward her, by the affection of a father,
for her goodness to his daughter. Christina,
however, for some reason or other, which, as she
did not avow, we should hold ourselves guilty of
betraying her confidence if we disclosed, did
not second this motion, and the good Heer was

[figure description] Page 168.[end figure description]

too happy to notice her apparent indifference to
her adopted sister.

“And now,” exclaimed the Heer, when they
had finished the relation of their adventures—
“and now, Koningsmarke, my dear son, for such
thou hast been to me, tell me how I may best reward
thee, for having saved the life of my child,
and oftentimes watched over her safety in the
desolate wilderness. I have wealth, more than
enough for my wants, speak, and as much of it
is thine as shall place thee above the world.”

Koningsmarke replied not, but shook his head,
looked at Christina, and sighed.

“No?” said the good Heer, answering his
look and shake of the head, “No? thou art
proud, then, and disdainest to be repaid for thy
kindness to an old man and his daughter with
money. But remember, I am at least thy debtor
for a handful of Mark Newby's halfpence,” added
he, smiling.

“Money cannot repay me for what I have
done for thy daughter,” rejoined Koningsmarke,
with an air and tone of melancholy pride.

“No? Der teufel! but—what? thou holdest
thy favours above all price then?”

“None think less than I do of what I have

[figure description] Page 169.[end figure description]

done for others: what others do for me, is a different
affair.”

“Well, then, I have some influence with the
great Gustavus, who, no doubt, remembers the
good service I did him, in taking a corporal's
guard. I will use it in thy behalf, and intreat
him, as I am old and feeble, and wish for retirement,
to appoint thee my successor in the
government of New Swedeland—hey?”

The Long Finne again shook his head, and
was silent.

“What, then, du galgen schivenkel,” exclaimed
the Heer, waxing wroth apace—“what! then
thou disdainest my friendship, and contemnest
my gratitude? Harkye, henkers knecht, be
pleased to comprehend, that I hold when a man
refuses to be repaid for favours he confers, he
cancels the obligation. Lookye, Long Finne—
am I not old enough to be thy father? am I
not the representative of the great Gustavus?
am I not obliged to thee for the safety of my
only child? 'Sfoot, sir—and dost thou dare to
tell me, thus to my face, that it is not thy pleasure
to be rewarded? Now mark me, youngster—
either name thy reward, or fight me to-morrow
norning, with good broad swords. I'll
teach thee to encumber me with a load of

[figure description] Page 170.[end figure description]

gratitude sufficient to smother Shadrach Moneypenny's
great horse, and then refuse to assist me in getting
rid of it. Come, stripling, name thy reward,
or shalt smoke for it to-morrow.”

Koningsmarke dropped on his knee, and, taking
the hand of Christina, pressed it to his lips
and his heart.

“I deserve her not—I ask her not—I dare not
ask you for her. But, Oh! Heer—if she owes her
life to me, as well as to thee—if I have watched,
and toiled, and fought for her—if I have borne
her in my arms, when her own limbs refused to
support her, through the irksome wilderness—
if I have been to her as a brother, to you as a
son—think what I could wish—not what I ask,
or deserve as a recompense—the only recompense
you can bestow, or I accept.”

“What! henckers knecht—my daughter, hey?
By the glory of the immortal champion, Gustavus,
but that is indeed cancelling the obligation!
Thou first gavest me my daughter, and
now thou wilt take her away again. Thou
wouldst rob me of the treasure thou hast just
found and restored to me?”

“Not rob thee, Heer; I would wish to double
the blessing, by adding to the solace of a

[figure description] Page 171.[end figure description]

daughter's tender ministry, the support of a duteous,
grateful son.”

“And thou wouldst not ask her to abandon
her poor old father?”

“No—we would live and die with thee. Thy
house should be our home; and, if it so pleased
Heaven, our graves should be close to
thine.”

“Sayest thou, coward! ha! thou hadst rather
marry, then, than meet my old rusty broad
sword? well, thou art a prudent young stripling
after all. Christina, hast got a fever, for within
these last fifteen minutes, thy pulse hath
risen to a truly alarming pitch? Christina,
what shall I say to this worthy lad, who so well
understandeth the value of his services? truly,
honest Finne, thou shalt be made superintendant
of the Indian trade, being as thou so well
comprehendest the mysteries of bargaining.”

If a young woman can possibly be brought
to say yes, to such a question as that of the
Heer, it must be when she is alone with the person
that asks it, unless we are mistaken in our
recollection of the pure and delicate Dan Cupid,
that whilome used to fan the flame of love in
female hearts. Christina replied not.

“Well,” said the Heer, silence gives consent.

[figure description] Page 172.[end figure description]

Thou art no true woman, Christina, if thou art
not ready to devote thyself to the wishes of one,
who gave thee life, and of that good-looking
youth, who hath preserved it more than once.
Here, Long Finne, here is her hand; if she dissents,
she has only to signify so much by withdrawing
it.”

Christina did not withdraw her hand, although
her pale cheek, and trembling frame, bore testimony
that though she gave herself to Koningsmarke,
it was not with that ample trust, that
boundless confidence, that unshrinking, measureless
hope, with which the ardent, inexperienced
maid so often throws herself, her virtues, her
wealth, and her beauty into the bosom of man.

“This day shall be kept as the happiest of my
life,” cried the Heer. “It is—yes, it is the day
I was married, the day of thy birth, Christina;
the day too in which God gave thee to me a second
time, that I might secure thy happiness by
giving thee to one whom Providence made the
instrument of thy preservation. Blessed be this
day!”

“It is the day of thy wife's death, too!” exclaimed
the Frizzled Head, who was always
flitting about like the bird of night, and always
croaking. “It is the day of thy wife's death; thy

[figure description] Page 173.[end figure description]

wife, who, if she could at this blessed moment
lift the shroud and come among you, would hold
up her bloodless hand, and shriek in ghostly accents
against this unhappy union; forbidden by
the memory of the past, the auguries of the
future. I, that know what thou, Heer, knowest
not—I, that have seen what thou didst not
see, I tell thee, Heer, I tell thee, weak maiden,
and,” holding up her withered finger in scorn,
to Koningsmarke, “I tell thee, that rather
than this accursed marriage shall take place,
I will say what shall blast thy purpose and
send thee wandering again to another new
world, if such there be. Better be dead than
wedded thus.

“Housekeeper of Satan!” answered the
Heer, “avaunt, fly, skip—herald of wrath and
abomination! When was it that I was ever inclined
to be merry, that thou didst not essay to
turn my gayety into gloomy forebodings? when
did I ever open my heart to the memory of
past, or the anticipation of future happiness,
that thou camest not, like the raven, to croak
me into fancied misery? when did the sun shine
ever warm on my heart, that thou didst not
come and freeze it stiff and cold? Away, and
howl in churchyards, at midnight; scream into

[figure description] Page 174.[end figure description]

the ear of guilt thy accursed maledictions. Be
silent with that eternal clapper of thine, or speak
to be understood, or”—

“I do howl in the ears of guilt, and I speak
to be understood by those I wish to understand
me. Those now hear me, who know full well
what I mean, yet dare to despise my warnings;
who would rush into each other's arms, even
though the grave of a mother lay between them
and their desires; who—but the time is not yet
come, that I must and will speak out.”

“Then, in the name of Heaven, be quiet till
then, and do not mar this happy hour. I would
thou wert silent, even as the grave thou speakest
of; for thy talking is worse than the screechowl,
the wolf, and the Indian, a joining in
concert with the midnight storm. How is it,
that thou wouldst mar the happiness of thy master
and young mistress?”

“I mar their happiness!” retorted the Snow
Ball; “I seek to prevent their misery; to save
virtue from the contamination of vice; to revenge
the death of her, who, of all thy colour and thy
race, was the only one whose kindness was never
accompanied by insult—whose benefits were never
cancelled by capricious tyranny. Heer, why
do I take an interest in the prosperity of thy

[figure description] Page 175.[end figure description]

household? why do I seek thy happiness? It is
not that thou art, in the language of thy haughty
race, my master, but because thou wert the husband
of the kindest being that ever breathed the
breath of life. Daughter of my mistress, why do I
watch over thy welfare? It is not that thou
art the child of my master, and I thy slave,
but that she was thy mother, and that with her
latest breath she besought me to be unto thee a
watchful and devoted servant, to see that no
harm fell upon thy innocent head. Such I
have been—such I will be, until I join my mistress,
where I may be permitted, though black
as ink, to say to her snow-white spirit, I did my
duty to her at least.”

“The yellow plague sieze thee, thou incomprehensible
riddle of darkness,” cried the Heer.
“Begone, for I swear to thee, Snow Ball, the
Long Finne shall marry my daughter, though
thou talkest thyself white in the face. To-morrow
shall be the day, and then, when I have secured
my girl a protector in weal and wo, in
storm and sunshine, I am ready to obey that call
which, sooner or later, brings all mankind to
their last muster. Depart in peace, old sinner,
and hold thy peace, if such a matter be possible.”

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“I go,” replied the Frizzled Head, without moving
a step. “Heer! Heer! thou wilt remember,
when I am dead, in sorrow and remorse,
that I warned thee, yet thou wouldst not listen.
When the storm comes, and thou and thine
shall be laid low in the dust, thy roots bare,
and thy branches broken, like the trees after a
whirlwind, then thou shalt weep, and tear thy
gray hairs, and call upon the mountains to fall,
the rocks to cover thee: but it will be vain.
Thou shalt invoke death, but he will not come;
thou shalt seek the grave, but it will not open to
thee; thou shalt live, despairing, until thy legs
shall refuse to carry thee, thy hands to lift themselves
to thy head, and thy mind and body become
those of the helpless infant.”

During this mysterious colloquy, Christina
had remained speechless and motionless, her cold
and almost lifeless hand grasped in that of Koningsmarke,
who himself remained silent, as if overawed
by the horrible fluency of the sable prophetess.
There is something allied to the sublime in futurity;
and even the strongest mind, fortified by the
consciousness of innocence, involuntarily shrinks
when the veil is withdrawn, and renders the homage
of its fears, where it refuses that of its
faith.

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