A detachment was ordered out in pursuit of the
deserters. I was among the number. We soon got
upon their track, and pursued them into the recesses
of the wilderness. They concealed themselves in
caverns in order to elude our search. Following
the course of a winding stream, we came into a wild
dell where we halted to refresh ourselves. The soldiers
were seated on the ground, taking their hasty
meal, when the low growl of a dog was indistinctly
heard. It awakened our attention. It was repeated,
and we approached the spot whence it proceeded,
which was a cavern formed by huge projecting rocks.
We entered and discovered Pierre and another deserter
at the extremity. When brought into the
open air the latter appeared an altered being from
what he was. He also belonged to the same mess
with myself: a young man, a good soldier, and full
of animal spirits. He had hitherto viewed life as a
May-day upon the green where the villagers are assembled
for a festival; but now the storm had lowered;
a full sense of his situation flashed across his
mind, and he stood before his companions crestfallen,
dejected and silent.

Pierre was not in the least abashed. He stood
erect as usual, and maintained his customary placid
expression of countenance. I stood beside him, and
of the two, might well have been mistaken for the
offender. I loved the man, and my heart bled for
him. He looked at me and then upon his dog, and
said:

“I have fed and caressed that creature for years.
He has been my travelling companion throughout
Europe, and on this side of the Atlantic, and if I
were weak enough to permit the conduct of others to
wound my feelings, I should certainly experience a
pang at being thus betrayed by him I considered my
fastest friend.” He patted the dog and added: “But
it was unconsciously done.” He might have read
as much in the eyes of the dog.

We returned to the garrison, and the prisoners
were confined in the guard-house. A court-martial

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

was held, they were tried and sentenced to be shot.
After the sentence I visited Pierre in his prison, to
condole with him on his approaching fate. He
smiled at my distress and exclaimed:

“Why should I be distressed at the prospect of
dying! What is this world to me, or I to the world,
since there is no one to shed a tear for my sufferings.
By death I escape from an order of things marked
for injustice, ignorance and superstition. I was born
where the light of the gospel shed its holy influence,
and where the blessings of your social compact were
acknowledged and enjoyed, and yet I have been an
object of persecution from the cradle to the grave.
I have been stationed here, patiently to endure unavailing
wretchedness, and pass through existence
without performing one single act that goes to answer
the question, `for what great end was I created?'
My nature is as frail as the reed upon the margin of
the stream, and yet it is an offence if I bend when
the tempest passes over me. I am filled with passions,
not for my gratification, and to throw a ray of
light across the cheerless path I am condemned to
travel, but to increase my torments by abstinence.
What am I to think! How am I to act! I see the
parricide rolling in luxury: blest with a heart of
flint he scoffs at the ties that bind man to man, and
while he spits at the face of heaven, he seems to be
the choicest care of an ever-watchful Providence:
and the lowly pauper who crawls through the world
in meekness and humility, who in the benevolence
of his heart shares his last crust with his faithful
dog, steeped in tears of gratitude for the bounties of
heaven, is suffered to perish by the way-side begging
charity. Such is the equity of your system! I have
visited the couch of sickness, where he who had
coined his gold from the tears and blood of his fellow
mortals, lay in state, with luxury around him,
while all the restoratives in nature were sought for
to prolong his useless life; and I have been in the
miserable hovel, where he whose life had been one
unvaried scene of abstinence and self mortification,

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

whose every act had been to exalt his nature, and
leave some glorious monument behind, that he had
not lived in vain: but I have seen him stretched on
his pallet of straw; comfortless—with burning brain—
broken heart—feverish—dying! and no other moisture
on his parched lips than that which his eyes
distilled at being obliged to leave the few he loved
to the cold charity of an unfeeling world. These
are among the benefits conferred on man by his social
compact; then why should I deplore being about
to escape from such an incomprehensible and inequitable
order of things?”

The morning fixed for the execution of the deserters
arrived. At day-break we were roused from
our beds of straw by the beat of drum. There
was an unusual stillness observed throughout the
fort; every word was spoken in an under tone, and
scarcely a sound was heard except that which proceeded
from the band. Even the music seemed to
partake of the prevailing melancholy; for never before
had the reveille fallen on my ear like notes of
sadness.

The morning was intensely cold. A heavy sleet
had fallen during the night, and every object that
the eye beheld was covered with ice. The trees
glistened brilliantly and bent beneath their weighty
encasement. The piercing wind moaned through
the desolate forest, and I thought to myself that the
melancholy sound was well adapted to the sorrowful
occasion. As I looked around and beheld all
nature, as it were, in her hour of adversity, I for a
moment questioned whether I was still in that world
so bright, luxuriant, and joyous in spring time. But
when the sun arose in cloudless splendour, and his
rich beams gave colouring to every glittering object,
well might I have questioned the identity of the orb
I trod upon. The scene indeed was brilliant beyond
description, and all around was fairy land.

On my way from my quarters to the parade ground,
I had to pass the small log cabin in which the prisoners
were confined. A sentinel was stationed at the

[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

door. There was a crevice between the logs, which
had been rudely piled in building the hut. I could
see its inmates from where I stood. I drew nigh
and asked permission of the sentinel to speak to
Pierre.

“Impossible,” he replied.

“But one word.”

“Not a syllable.”

“He dies in less than an hour.”

“True.”

“And lone as he is in the world, there may be
something that he would have a friend do for him
after his death.”

“Perhaps so; approach and speak to him for a moment,
but no longer.”

I drew nigh the crevice. Pierre was seated in a
corner of the hut fondling with his dog, with as little
concern as if he had a life of joy before him, instead
of a death of terror. I called to him, he raised his
head, and on recognising me, came to the spot where
I stood.

“Is there any thing, I asked, that I can do for
you before you die? Any wish you would have fulfilled
afterwards?”

“Nothing,” he replied; “I have always confined
my wishes in this world, within my own powers of
performance; and beyond it, man can do little that
will afford me either pleasure or pain.”

“Is there no one to whom you would have your
dying blessing conveyed?”

“Ay: to all mankind, if it will avail them any
thing, but if not, convert it all to your own especial
use.”

He smiled and stretched forth his hand; I grasped
it and he returned the pressure. The sentinel called
to me that the line was forming; I again pressed
the prisoner's hand, and was hurrying away when
he called me back.

“Stay,” said he, “I had forgot, I have one request
to make—Will you fulfil it?”

“Unquestionably!”

[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

“On the honour of a soldier.”

“And the sincerity of an honest man; be it what
it may, I pledge myself to perform it.”

“It is not much,” said Pierre, “no more than this:
should it fall to your lot to be one of my executioners,
remember I have a heart.” He perceived that I did
not comprehend his meaning, and continued: “Let
your musket ball find the way to it, for though I am
a soldier, I would avoid unnecessary pain in dying.”

Having arrived at the place of parade, the line
was formed and a guard of six chosen to do the work
of death. It fell to my lot to be one of the number.
When my name was called, my heart leaped as it
were to my throat; respiration was suspended and I
nearly fell to the ground. Pierre was my friend.
God only knows what I endured at that moment!
My feelings were not to be envied even by him
whose life I had been called upon to destroy: but I
knew that the painful duty must be performed, though
it snapped my heart-strings in the execution.

We were stationed in front of the line; the band
commenced the dead march, and on turning my
eyes towards the hut in which the deserters were
confined, I beheld them approaching under a guard.
The step of the little Frenchman was firm and steady,
and he kept time with the solemn beat of the drum.
He appeared as cheerful as if he had been going to
parade, and never looked more like a soldier than on
that occasion.

Not so his companion. All his senses appeared
to be alive to the terror of his situation. As they
marched in front of the garrison, a dead silence was
observed; the soldiers were as fixed as statues, and
deep sorrow was depicted in every countenance.
The solemn beat of the drum, and the mournful note
of the piercing fife, were re-echoed by the most distant
hills. Various and indescribable feelings rushed
in rapid succession on me. As I gazed on the
extended and unpeopled waste around, and heard
the only sound that proceeded from the garrison
lazily booming over the ice-clad plain, I felt to the

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

fullest extent the fact that we were in the midst of
the wilderness. I gazed on my sorrow-stricken
comrades until I almost fancied we were beings of
another region, and when my eyes fell upon those
destined to die, the execution seemed to me even
more terrible than deliberate and cold-blooded murder.
The responsibility was appalling. It was the
act of a few isolated beings, and not the act of the
world. It was the slaying of a sharer in our dangers;
one who was bound to us by every social tie;
nay, by the indissoluble link of privation and misery.
It struck me as being more horrible than fratricide.

The prisoners moved on in front of the line towards
the spot appointed for the execution. It was
beneath an old oak in the eastern corner of the garrison.
Every eye was turned towards them; and
sadness dimmed every eye. When they came to the
spot where the guard of six was stationed, they paused
for a moment; Pierre gave me a look full of meaning
and smiled. It was not in pride or affectation,
nor yet in scorn of mankind, but it was a smile of
general benevolence; one in which the brightness of
his soul shone forth, like the beams of the sun when
setting. Not so his companion. Terror and distress
were depicted in his countenance. He looked
at us as if supplicating our mercy, and the look was
mingled with the thought that we were to execute
and not to weigh the deed our hands were about to
perpetrate. It was agony to behold him, and terrible
as was the thought that I was about to shed the
blood of my friend, it was not half so painful as the
idea of violently taking the life of one who manifested
such terror at dying. Pierre marked the agitation
of his companion; he seemed to read my feelings
too, and as they moved on he pronounced the
word, “remember;” his dog followed at his side, and
even to that hour he was not unmindful of the affection
of his dog.

They approached the old oak, beneath which the
graves were dug and two rough coffins placed. We
marched behind the prisoners to the solemn beat of

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

the drum, and I could not shake from my mind the
recollection that we had often marched side by side
to more spirit-stirring music.

We arrived at the spot and a brief prayer was
offered, when Pierre's companion was led to the
grave and desired to kneel upon the coffin. His
animal functions had forsaken him; he shook like
an aspen leaf, and wept like a child. There are
some men who remain children in their feelings to
the close of life; whose minds have not grown in
proportion with the body, and whose nervous systems
are controlled by the feebleness of the mind.

He knelt, and the cap was drawn over his eyes.
The music ceased, the sergeant gave the word of
command, and the poor wretch sobbed audibly.
Pierre stood hard by with his arms folded, a mute
spectator of the painful scene. Not a sound proceeded
from the soldiers, arrayed to witness the fatal
consequence of insubordination. We passed through
the preparatory evolutions, the word “fire!” was
given, and the deserter fell dead across the coffin,
perforated by three wounds, each of which would
have been mortal. Pierre looked upon the corpse, but
betrayed no emotion. He stepped forward and stood
beside the grave destined to receive his own mortal
remains. The sergeant would have had him kneel:
“No,” he replied, “I have always met my enemies
face to face, when they assumed the most threatening
attitude, and can I do less to my friends?” The
officer again urged him: “No, if I must die you
shall shoot me down and let me die as a soldier, and
not as a criminal.” He stood erect with his face
towards us, and his faithful dog at his feet. I never
beheld him more calm and indifferent than he appeared
to be at that moment. He caught my eye,
and placed his right hand upon his heart. I understood
the motion. My brain was on fire. Thought
succeeded thought in rapid succession, but nothing
was distinct, for they passed off without leaving an
impression, even more rapidly than a flash of lightning.
All was confusion. I felt not what was

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

passing. I saw nothing but the figure standing before
me, and was so completely bewildered that I was
unconscious of his being my friend. The word was
given. Every muscle was braced with determination.
I raised the musket deliberately to my shoulder;
the only thought, the only wish that entered
my mind at that moment, was to hit the mark. It
seemed like an age between the words, “take aim,”
and “fire.” At length it was given. I heard the
report of the muskets, saw Pierre fall, but nothing
more. Darkness came over me; I sank to the earth,
and when I awoke I found myself on the straw in
my tent and one of the mess bathing my temples.

I inquired for Pierre.

“He is in his grave,” said the soldier.

“Did he die in agony?”

“No: on the spot. There was a ball right through
his heart.”

I felt as if a ball had struck my own, and laughed
wildly. The man thought me mad, and I was so.
I knew who had inflicted the wound; the thought
was hell to me, and I cursed the hand that had
inflicted it. The curse fell on me, and to this day
I feel as if I were unabsolved. The deed was done
in mercy, in compliance with his dying wish, but
even that reflection cannot assuage the poignancy
of my feelings. I did my duty as a soldier, but destroyed
myself as a man. A thousand times I have
wished myself in the grave.

I was seized with a raging fever, succeeded by
delirium, which confined me to my tent in a hopeless
condition. During my illness Pierre's dog was
a faithful attendant at my side. I felt reproached
by his presence, though his looks were those of sorrow
and affection. At night he slept on the grave of his
master, and by day-light he would crawl to my tent.
I never beheld a poor animal so stricken. When
his master was buried, I was told that the whining
of the dog touched the heart of the roughest soldier.
He did not mourn long. I had been confined about
two weeks when the faithful creature neglected to

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

pay his accustomed visit, and on inquiring for him,
he had not been seen.

I was at this time convalescent, and on leaving
my tent I considered it my first duty to visit the
grave of my friend. I did so, and on it lay the dead
body of the dog. I dropped a tear on discovering
the stiff and frozen carcass of the affectionate animal.
How few are mourned so sincerely by those
whom God has endued with reason, and who acknowledge
the force of natural and factitious ties! A
plain man would say, he died of a broken heart,
but metaphysicians may give the cause of his death
some more learned appllation: what, I know not,
but assuredly one that would not be as generally
understood, and, perhaps, not as near the truth as
that which I have assigned. I had the dog buried
at the feet of his master. The garrison was broken
up shortly afterwards, and the worn out soldiers
returned to the haunts of man. Many had fallen
victims to the hardships they endured, but none
were so long and generally deplored as poor Pierre
de Luce. How wonderfully and inexplicably is the
mind of man organized! My friend died cheerfully,
the victim of a departure from the line of duty, and
I live in wretchedness for having fulfilled what my
duty enjoined. His was a life free from anxiety,
though he acknowledged no earthly power paramount
to his will; whereas mine has been a pilgrimage of
daily solicitude, notwithstanding I have fulfilled, to
the utmost of my strength, every obligation enjoined
by my country and my God.

p375-099 THE LAST OF HIS TRIBE.

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

The forests of North America are now unceasingly
groaning under the axe of the backwoodsman;
and it is no uncommon spectacle to behold a village
smiling on the spot which a few months before was
an almost impracticable forest, or the haunt alone of
the wild beast and the savage.

“Great changes!” I exclaimed, as I alighted at
the door of a log building, in front of which hung a
rude sign to arrest the steps of the traveller. “A
few years ago, there was scarcely the trace of a
white man to be seen, where I now behold a flourishing
town and a numerous colony of inhabitants—
a large tract of forest land enclosed, and corn shooting
up amid the dying trunks of its aboriginal trees.”

“Our village thrives,” was the laconic remark of
a tall slender personage, who was lounging against
the sign post of the village inn, around which half
a dozen idlers were assembled.

“True; civilization has made rapid strides, but
the red men, I perceive, have not yet disappeared
from among you.” (Four or five Indians were lying
stretched upon a bank at a short distance from the
inn door, basking in the rays of the setting sun.)

“Not yet,” was the reply. “They come into the
village to sell their peltries; but at present they are
not very well satisfied with the intercourse we have
had together.”

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

“How so; do you take advantage of their ignorance
of the value of their merchandise?”

“Possibly we do; but that is not their chief cause
of dissatisfaction. They still prefer their council
grove and summary punishment, to our court-house
and prison.”

“Court-house and prison! Cannot so small a
community as this be kept together without the aid
of such establishments?”

“I know not; but few communities, however small,
are willing to try the experiment. As yet our prison
has had but one tenant, and to his fate may be attributed
the surly deportment of yonder savages. They
belong to the same tribe.”

I expressed a curiosity to hear the particulars of
his story. My communicative friend led the way
into the tavern, where, as soon as we were seated,
he commenced his account in nearly the following
words:—

“Tangoras was the chief of a neighbouring tribe
of Indians. He is now advanced in years, but still
retains much of the vigour of youth. Brave, expert
in the chase, patient of fatigue, and beloved by his
people; his voice is a law, for he is looked upon as
the sole remaining example of what the tribe was
before the whites appeared among them.

“He seems to have beheld the progress of civilization
with the same feelings as the shipwrecked
mariner watches the approach of the wave that is to
wash him from the rock on which he has attained a
foothold. The land of his fathers had been wrested
from him. He defended it bravely until resistance
was found to be fruitless; and when he became subject
to the laws of the pale faces, he viewed their
proceedings as tyrannical, and himself as little better
than a slave.

“They told him that his condition would be ameliorated,
but they would not suffer him to be happy
in his own way; and, unluckily for the old chief, no
one can define happiness in such a manner as will
accord with the conception of another. All imagine

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

they comprehend its meaning, and all differ. From
the cradle to the grave we are struggling to grasp
it; but, like the delusive vessel formed of mists, it
vanishes when considered nearest, and leaves us
hopeless and alone in the midst of a turbulent sea.

“When he complained of the injustice done him,
they urged that the earth was given to man to cultivate,
and that he who refuses to fulfil the condition,
loses his title to it. In vain did the old Indian argue
from the same authority, that the fowls of the air
and the beasts of the field were also given to man's
use, and that he therefore preserved his hunting
grounds inviolate; that he cultivated as much as his
wants required; and that he who does more, brings
a curse rather than a blessing upon his fellows, by
introducing among them luxury and its attendant
evils.

“They also told him that the Christian religion
confers upon its professors, who are the immediate
heirs of heaven, a right to the soil paramount to any
human claim. The old chief, as he bowed to this decision,
calmly replied, `While you who profess superior
knowledge are taught to pursue a line of action
as perfect as can come within the comprehension
of human intellect, wherever the cross has appeared,
instead of awakening the best feelings of your nature,
the demon of destruction seems to have been
roused within you, and death and desolation have
followed. Though you tell me it is the emblem of
peace to all mankind, to us, at least, it has been the
signal of war, of exterminating and merciless war.'

“But to proceed with my story:

“Tangoras seldom entered the villages of the
whites, and refused to make use of our manufactures.
He dressed himself in skins instead of the
blankets, which his people had adopted; for he said,
he would live as his fathers had lived, and die as
they had died. About a year ago, at the head of
a dozen of his tribe, he descended yonder hill by the
narrow path which winds over it. His followers
were laden with peltries; but the old chief marched

[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

erect, with his tomax only in his hand, and his hunting-knife
stuck in his girdle, for he scorned to be a
pack-horse for the pale faces.

“As he entered the village, his countenance was
stamped with more than usual austerity. I spoke
to him, but he made no reply. He refused to enter
our cabins, and turned away from food when it was
proffered him. He stretched himself beneath the
shade of the cypress tree at the big spring, while
his followers proceeded to dispose of their merchandise.

“It so happened that four or five Indians belonging
to a tribe inhabiting a tract of country somewhat
lower down the river, were in the village at
the same time. They had made their sales and purchases,
and were about to depart as Tangoras and
his people appeared. They soon mingled together,
and a low guttural conversation ensued. From the
violence of their gesticulations, we concluded that
the subject was of deep interest. A tall handsome
savage of about five-and-twenty years of age, active
and athletic, kept aloof from the crowd, and appeared
to be the subject of conversation, from the ferocious
glances cast at him by the tribe of Tangoras.
He was evidently uneasy; and as he slowly receded,
as if intending to leave the village, he kept his dark
eye lowering suspiciously upon the crowd. He had
already passed the furthermost house, and drew
nigh to the spot where Tangoras lay, too much
wrapped in his own reflections to attend to what
was going forward.

“The sound of footsteps awakened his attention:
he slowly turned his Herculean frame, and, appearing
to recognise the young savage, sprung in an instant
upon his feet. A fierce yell succeeded, which
the distant hills re-echoed, and the next instant we
beheld the stranger flying, like the affrighted deer
from the famished wolf, towards the mountains.
Tangoras followed close behind. They crossed the
plain with the rapidity of an arrow from a bow, and
at intervals the fiend-like yell of the old chief startled

[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

the eagle as he enjoyed his circling flight in the
upper air.

“While crossing the plain, the youthful activity
of the fugitive Indian enabled him to exceed the
speed of his pursuer; but, in ascending the opposite
ridge, it was evident that he was losing ground sensibly.
A shout of triumph, which the evening breeze
carried from mountain to mountain, proclaimed that
Tangoras was aware of his advantage. The rest of
the savages watched the chase with intense interest,
and preserved a dead silence. They scarcely breathed
as they leaned forward with their eyes fixed upon
the parties ascending the rugged and winding path.
The young Indian now stood upon a bare rock on
the brow of the ridge. He paused for a moment to
breathe. The motion of his body did not escape us
as he drew a deep inspiration. He cast a look downwards
upon his pursuer, who followed close after
him. It was but a momentary glance, and the young
man disappeared on the opposite side of the mountain.
Tangoras sprang upon the rock, sent forth a
yell, and the next moment was out of sight also.
He did not pause to breathe, nor did he slacken his
pace as he ascended the ridge; he could have kept
on from the rising to the setting of the sun without
fatigue or without abating his speed, for he united
with the strength of the rugged bear the activity of
the deer; nor did he fear to wrestle with the one
without a weapon, or to hunt down the other without
a dog to keep him on the trail.

“They were no sooner out of sight, than the
savages in the village started in pursuit of them.
As they sprang over the plain, they yelled and leaped
like a herd of famished wolves on the scent of
their prey. It was indeed a wild sight to behold
them rushing along the narrow path over the mountain.

“The fugitive pursued his course down the western
declivity with increased swiftness. It was the
race of a maniac. He leaped from rock to rock at
the hazard of his life, and had gained considerably

[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

upon Tangoras, who followed with his eye fixed upon
his victim, and without slackening his speed. At
intervals he sent forth the piercing war whoop, and
the fearful sound increased the speed of the fugitive.

“At the base of the mountain was a river deep
and rapid. The fugitive came rushing down with
the ungoverned velocity of a thing inanimate. He
reached the green bank of the river, and, without
pausing, sprang into its waves. The current bore
him rapidly along, and the cool water refreshed his
burning body. He had not swam far before Tangoras
stood upon the bank, and immediately with a
heavy plunge dashed into the river: he beat aside
the waves with his sinewy arms; his head was elevated,
and his broad chest parted the water, even
as the prow of a vessel. He glided upon the surface
as though he had been a creature of the element,
and the small waves leaped about his brawny neck
in playful wantonness. By this time the rest of the
savages appeared on the brow of the mountain, and
they rushed down the rugged path like fiends at
their sport, leaping from crag to crag, as reckless
of danger as though they had been immortal. As
they threw their reeking bodies into the water, the
fugitive was about ascending the bank on the opposite
side. Tangoras was close behind him, for he
had gained considerably upon him in the passage of
the river. The race was now resumed. The fugitive
darted off with renewed vigour, and the old
chief followed at a steady pace across the verdant
plain through which the river pursues its way.

“The Indian once more outstripped his pursuer;
but as they entered upon the high lands, his speed
diminished. The old chief perceived it, and as he
kept on his even course, sent forth the war whoop
as if in derision. The race continued over ridges
and plains, and through streams, until they arrived
at the foot of the next spur of the mountain. As
they entered upon the steep ascent, the pursued
strained every nerve to keep up his speed, while

[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

Tangoras followed with as much ease in his motions,
as if it had been but a race of amusement.

“The fugitive now deviated from the narrow path,
and entered upon the most dangerous and rugged
ground, in hopes that his pursuer through fatigue
would desist from the chase; but the hope was vain,
for he still followed with the same fixedness of purpose
as at the outset. They soon found themselves
in the depth of the wilderness. Higher and higher
they clambered up in silence, assisting their ascent
by clinging to stunted shrubs and the jutting pieces
of rock. The other savages followed at a distance,
yelling like fiends, and were guided by the echoes
occasioned by the fragments of rocks, which, yielding
to the tread, rolled down the side of the mountain.
The young Indian had been hunted to desperation,
when an ascent almost inaccessible presented
itself. He braced every nerve, and leaping up, seized
hold of the branch of a tree that grew from the declivity.
Fortunately it sustained his weight, and
he drew himself beyond the obstruction. He sprang
from the tree to a jutting rock, which yielded beneath
the pressure, and as he felt it moving, he threw
himself forward flat upon the earth as the only means
of preservation. The stone rolled from under him
down the mountain, and a fearful yell was mingled
with the crashing that it made in its passage. He
turned and beheld Tangoras prostrate on the ground.
A second look disclosed that he was bleeding. A
laugh of joy and derision burst from the lips of the
fugitive, who was still stretched upon the earth, but
his triumph was of short duration. Tangoras soon
sprang upon his feet again; his rage augmented by
the smarting of his wounds, and leaping up with the
elasticity of the panther, he readily achieved the
ascent which had nearly exhausted the remaining
strength of his victim, who slowly arose and again
exerted himself to escape his determined pursuer.

“They had now almost reached the summit of the
mountain. Tangoras pressed closely upon the young
Indian, who with difficulty dragged along his

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

wounded and exhausted frame. At length he attained the
highest point, and as he cast a look down the western
declivity he started back, for it was too precipitous
for mortal to descend and live. His deadly foe
was within a few paces, and a savage smile of triumph
was on his countenance. The fugitive was unarmed,
and hope forsook him when he beheld the
other draw his hunting-knife as he leisurely ascended,
confident that his victim could not now escape.
The young man stood erect, and facing his foe, tore
off the slight covering from his broad bosom, which
heaved as he drew his shortened breath. They
were now face to face on the same rock—a pause
ensued—their eyes glared upon each other—Tangoras
raised his arm. “Strike!” cried the fugitive, and
the next moment was heard the sound of his colossal
body as it fell from rock to rock down the deep chasm,
startling the birds of prey from their eyries. Tangoras
stood alone on the rock, and the rays of the setting
sun shone full upon him. The affrighted birds were
screaming and flying in a circle over the spot where
the body had fallen. When the rest of the savages
had ascended the mountain, the old chief was still
standing on the same spot, with the bloody knife in
his hand, his mind absorbed by his feelings. They
asked for the fugitive; he made no reply, but held
up the blood-stained weapon, smiled, and pointed
down the abyss. The friends of the deceased silently
withdrew to search for the body, while Tangoras
and his people returned to their village.”

“And what cause had he for the perpetration of
so merciless a deed?”

“The young Indian had a short time-before assassinated
his only son; and as his tribe refused to deliver
up the murderer to punishment, the father, in
conformity to their custom, took justice into his own
hands, not dreaming that the whites would pronounce
that a capital offence, which both the laws of the red
men and their religious creed imperatively called
upon him to perform. He was, however, apprehended,
tried and convicted of murder. He did not speak

[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

during his trial, but looked in scorn upon our grave
deliberations; and sat in the prisoner's bar with the
dignity of a hero rather than the compunctuous
bearing of a criminal. He heard the sentence of
death pronounced upon him without moving a muscle;
and as he was led forth from the court-house to
the prison, he moved on with a firm step and haughty
demeanour, which showed that though he had been
condemned by others, he was not self-condemned.
The miserable remnant of his tribe had assembled
to await the issue of his trial. They fell back as he
appeared, and he moved through them in silence,
without bestowing even a look upon them, and they
followed him to prison, gazing at him in stupid
wonder.”

“Did they witness his incarceration without an
attempt to set him free?”

“Certainly; what else could you expect from those
who have taken no more than the first step towards
civilization? There is no condition in life so abject
as theirs. They view the laws of society as being
at constant variance with natural privilege; and
while they dread and groan beneath the former,
they have not the hardihood to assert the latter.
They look upon the restrictions as intended for their
abasement, and not to elevate them to an equality;
and while you strive to teach them the superiority
of their nature, you only convince them that they
were born free, and that the social compact has
made them slaves.”

“And what was the fate of old Tangoras?”

“That will be decided to-morrow. Look out of
the window towards the prison, and you may see
the gallows tree prepared for his execution.”

I did so, and beheld that the limb of a stout oak
tree near the prison had been trimmed for the purpose:
a ladder was reared against it, and three Indians
were lounging beneath it. At this moment
two Indian women passed the window; their countenances
denoted deep affliction, and their heads
were bent downwards.”

[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

“Those women,” continued my informant, “are
the wives of Tangoras. They have been remarkably
attentive to him during his imprisonment, and
are now going, doubtless, to take their final leave of
him.”

We could distinctly see what was passing from
the tavern window. They approached the prison,
knocked at the door, and the jailer permitted them
to enter. I expressed a desire to see the unfortunate
old chief; and my communicative friend, who
by the way was the village schoolmaster, promised
to gain me admittance to his cell on the following
morning, as it was then near the hour of closing the
doors for the night. In a few minutes the Indian
women again appeared. They looked towards the
gallows tree, and spoke to each other. As they
passed beneath the window of the inn, I perceived
that their countenances were much more placid than
they were before they entered the prison.

The stillness of the evening was now broken by
the sound of a distant drum, which gradually became
more distinct. In an instant the whole of the
villagers were in the street gazing anxiously in the
direction whence the sound proceeded; and even
the sluggish savage felt sufficient interest, to arise
from his recumbent posture. While expectation
was on tip-toe, a corps of military appeared winding
around the base of the mountain that terminated
the prospect on the eastern side of the village.
A troop of ragged urchins ran delighted to
meet them. The soldiers had been sent for to a
neighbouring town, to intimidate the savages from
interfering with the execution of the laws.

I arose at day-break the following morning, and
on descending to the bar-room, found the schoolmaster
already there, waiting to conduct me to the
prison. It was a delightful morning in spring. As
we walked forth, the birds were singing joyously,
the green grass sparkled with dew, the morning air
was refreshing, and laden with fragrance from the
foliage of the surrounding forest. A number of

[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]

Indians were standing beneath the gallows tree,
with their faces towards the east; their heads were
bent in sorrow, and they preserved unbroken silence
as we passed by them. The wives of Tangoras
were among the number. The sun had not yet appeared
above the eastern horizon as we entered the
prison.

We were conducted by the jailer to the apartment
in which the old chief was confined. We
found him standing in the centre of the cell, with
his eyes raised to a small grated window through
which the gray light of morning was stealing. His
mind was too deeply engaged with its own reflections
to notice us as we entered. The jailer accosted
him, but he made no reply, and still kept his eyes
fixed on the same object. The schoolmaster also
spoke to him, but still he appeared unconscious of
our presence. A solitary sunbeam now stole through
the grating, which falling on the face of the old
Indian, relaxed its austerity. Still he moved not.
My companions looked at him, and then upon each
other in astonishment, which was increased by the
low sound of a number of voices joined in song.
The music was varied by occasional bursts of passion
and passages of deep pathos. Tangoras joined the
strain in a low guttural tone, scarcely audible; he
closed his eyes as he sang, and listened to the voices
apparently with deep interest.

“What is the meaning of all this?” I enquired.

“It is the Indian death song,” replied the schoolmaster,
“and they relate in their rude strains the
most daring exploits of their favourite chief.”

Tangoras stood motionless for about a quarter of
an hour, during which the song continued. His eyes
remained closed, and his countenance underwent
various changes. The expression indicated pain,
and finally it became so completely distorted as to
prove that he was labouring under intense torture,
though he still continued to mutter the death song.
It was now with the utmost difficulty that he sustained
himself: he staggered, his knees bent under

[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

him, and the next moment he fell to the floor, and
shouted the war whoop as he fell. They heard the
signal from without, and immediately the death song
was changed to a wild burst of exultation. We
approached to support the old chief, who was struggling
in the agonies of death, but he waived his hand
and forbade us to touch him. We inquired into the
cause of his sudden illness, and he replied with a
smile of triumph, “that nature impelled him to die
as a man, while the Christians would have taught
him to die as a dog.”

“The old Roman virtue—consistent to the last!”
exclaimed the schoolmaster.

The dying Indian writhed on the floor, and suddenly
turning on his back, threw out his gigantic
limbs, and lay stretched at full length. His broad
chest heaved, his teeth were clenched, his hands
closed, his eyes turned upwards, and a slight quivering
ran through his whole frame. The song of
exultation still continued without. There was now
a gentle knock at the outer door, and the jailer
left us to attend to it. In a few minutes he returned,
accompanied by the wives of Tangoras. They
looked upon him as he lay upon the floor, and then
exchanged glances with each other. The struggle
was over; the body was now motionless. They bent
down beside it, covered their faces, and having remained
in this posture a few moments, arose and left
the prison in silence. The song of exultation ceased
as the jailer closed the door after them. As I
returned to the inn, I expressed astonishment at the
cause of his sudden death.

“The cause is plain enough,” replied the schoolmaster.
“The women who visited him last evening,
left a dose of poison with him. It is evident that
the plan was preconcerted.”

About an hour afterwards, we beheld the dejected
Indians slowly ascending the mountain, bearing the
remains of the old chief to a spot where they might
repose without longer being trampled on by the
justice of the pale faces.

p375-111 THE OLD STORY.

In multis juris nostri articulis deterior est conditio feminarum
quam masculorum.

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

They buried themselves in the wilderness; withdrew
from the scornful gaze of their fellow creatures,
to hold communion with their sorrows. A
river, in its primitive wildness, rolled before their
humble habitation, while behind it frowned a lofty
mountain, in all the rugged majesty of nature. The
few who traversed its mazes, in pursuit of game,
were as uncouth as the bear that dwelt in its caverns,
and the struggle between civilization and a savage
state for mastery rendered them, as it were, an anomaly
in the human race. But the strides of civilization
are gigantic, and not to be impeded. A cluster
of rude cabins already appeared on the margin of
the river; the lofty monarchs of the forest, yielding
to the stroke of the axe, were girdled and suffered to
decay. The green corn sprung up amid their dying
trunks, and the silence of the wilderness was now
broken by the tinkling of the bells, that denoted
where the herd was browsing amidst the luxuriant
natural pasture.

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

But this was to them a sight of sorrow, and not of
joy, for they had felt the scorn of their fellow mortals,
and were crushed to the earth by the arbitrary
rules of right and wrong prescribed by graybeards
and schoolmen, even as the oak of the forest, and the
flower that blooms beneath it, are crushed by the
thunderbolt, never again to blossom. They beheld
the inroads of civilization as the traveller along the
sea beach beholds the approaching waves, from which
there is no escape; gradual, yet fearful to look upon,
for they no sooner reach than they destroy. Theirs
was a communion of spirit, an intellectual intercourse,
such as mortals cannot partake of, until the
spirit has been bruised, and the ties of this world
are as powerless as fetters made of the sand of the
sea. They already understood the language of spirits,
for it seemed as if their inmost thoughts were
made known without the aid of the corporeal senses.
They seldom spoke, for words were useless; their
thoughts were common to both, and every act and
every look proved the extent of mutual devotion.

The first time I met them in their seclusion, was
on a delightful morning in the month of June. It
was in a grove of sugar trees on the bank of the river,
some distance from their dwelling; the sun was just
rising, and the birds were singing joyously from every
spray. He was slowly leading a fine horse, upon
which the tall sylph-like form of his companion
was seated. She was dressed in neat apparel, and
veiled, though there was little chance of any other
eyes falling on her countenance than his own. True,
there was a time when she would rather have encountered
death than a look from him, but that time
had passed by, for now it seemed that his presence
was the very fountain of her existence.

She raised her veil to enjoy the passing breeze.
Her countenance was serene and divinely beautiful;
divinely so, for there was much more of heavenly
than earthly beauty in it. Her forehead was high
and polished, and bound round by a plain braid of
hair, as glossy and as dark as the plumage of the

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

raven. The lustre of her large black eyes was now
feeble, and the cheeks that once vied with the colour
of the rose, were now as pallid as the lily, save that
a deep hectic spot interrupted the perfect whiteness,
but blended not with it. It was the mark that death
had set on her, that he might know his victim.

I had seen her the loveliest among the beautiful;
where all eyes were turned upon her in admiration,
for she shone forth as conspicuously in the multitude
as the evening star in the firmament. But a cloud
had passed over her, and her rays were no longer
seen. And him I also knew, when he moved among
the proudest, and was distinguished wherever he
moved. His person was matchless, his spirit lofty,
and his mind highly cultivated, but unfortunately
those things which have received the highest polish
are the most readily susceptible of tarnish.

He surveyed the surrounding landscape in silence
for some time, and then turning to his companion,
exclaimed, “How beautiful is nature! While
contemplating a scene like this, the mind becomes
regenerate, and startles at the sublimity of its own
conceptions. It bursts as the young eagle from the
egg, and though at first it winks at the resistless
stream of light, nature impels it to soar above on
steady wing, and in time it turns not, even though
the forked lightning shivers in its path. More is
to be learnt from the silent musing on the wonders
of creation, than from all the wise saws that gownsmen
deal from the pulpit. Even the little flower
that springs at your feet smiles for a time, and then
dies in the midst of its fragrance, has its moral; the
joyous stream that gushes from the mountain side,
and leaps from rock to rock down the precipice,
proclaims in its wild liberty a guiding hand; the
feathered songsters, in their various notes, speak of
it; and even their rich and varied plumage bears
silent testimony to the same effect. The great truth
is heard in the hollow moan of the forest, and the
falling rain sets the parched foliage of the silent
trees babbling in praise of the hand that refreshed

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

them. Then have not we, the choicest of his works,
and for whose use all things were made, reason to
to love and adore him? But man, conscious of his
own unworthiness, has clothed his god in terrors.
The rude barbarian, and the most enlightened, alike
study rather to avert his wrath than to gain his love;
and religion is with them rather an impulse of fear,
than the overflowing of gratitude for his mercies.
The gods of different nations have partaken of the
nature of the people who worshipped. Those who
compose the mythology of the ancients are sullied
with all human impurities, and are the slaves of the
worst of human passions; easily excited to wrath, and
readily to be appeased. The fabulous Jove committed
crimes in heaven that earth would revolt from, yet
he was pictured as being powerful, and was adored.
The sacrifices offered to conciliate him were such as
would consign the christian to the worst of perdition,
yet they gained the heathen heaven, if so it may be
called, governed by one pictured less merciful than
man. They copied their paradise from their earthly
pursuits, and peopled it with such beings as would
minister to their earthly desires, revivified in another
region. Their dream of futurity was an eternity
of human pleasures, varied to suit the taste of the
dreamer; and thus we find the Goth revelling at the
festive board in the hall of Odin, and the idle Mahometan
luxuriating in his harem with houries, whose
charms will never fade. The one could imagine nothing
surpassing an everlasting drinking bout, with
the scull of his foe before him to hold his beverage,
and the other could conceive no heaven where the
grossest of his earthly appetites might not enter.
But with us, Louisa, it is different, for those who
have the mind to enjoy a scene like this we now contemplate,
may picture a heaven far beyond the heathen's
conception.”

“True, my brother,” she replied, “with us it is
different; we enjoy light which the heathen did not
enjoy, but that light only serves to render to the
guilty the prospect of the future more terrible.”

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

“Not so, my Louisa; it is rather a beacon to those
who have erred. The best of human institutions are
attended with partial evil, and even those of divine
origin, when applied to human affairs, are not altogether
exempt. Revealed religion is the holy bond
which binds the mass of mankind indissolubly together;
break it, and chaos would literally come again.
It adds cheerfulness to the light of heart, and is a
balm to the wounded spirit; yet not unfrequently it
prostrates in the place of comforting, for its denunciations
alone are heard by many, and its bright rewards
and promises are considered as extending to
a few of the chosen. Such imagine that heaven can
only be attained by passing through a life of purgatory
here, and know not that the most grateful offering
that can be rendered is a cheerful heart and a
pure one. We came not here to mourn in sackcloth
and ashes over the inborn sin of the old Adam, but
rather to rejoice and be grateful for the life that was
given, and render that life a gift to be rejoiced at.”

“True, we came not to mourn over the inherent
sin,” she replied, “but the sin that owes its origin to
us, we must answer for.”

“And hast thou not answered for it,” he exclaimed,
“as few have answered? Has not the atonement
in this world been sufficient without extending to the
next? Such is the variety of human offences, that
gownsmen themselves can scarcely designate those
that are against divine, from such as are merely infringements
of human laws. Too frequently they are
confounded, and the wrath of the Omnipotent is
heard in the imagination of the offender, for an act
not vicious in itself, but magnified into a crime by
human institutions. It is possible to refine on virtue
until it becomes a vice, and to philosophize on vice
until it assumes the aspect of virtue. You are fading
fast, Louisa, and I know not at what moment a breeze
may come, and for ever nip the flower that I have so
long and tenderly watched over. There was a time
when you were the pride of my heart, and when my
heart was proudest. Nay, weep not at the

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

recollection; for dear to me as you then were, at no moment
of your life were you ever more dear to me than at
the present. But the time is fast approaching, when
that delicate form must mingle with the clods of the
valley, and I become desolate. Still it is in your
power to leave me one reflection that will be to me
as a day star in my wanderings.”

“My brother, name it.”

“Die as I would have you. Let me see a smile on
your lips as I close your eyes in death, to satisfy me
that you leave not this world in terror. I know it is
the creed of your sex, that she who keeps her virtue
unsullied may be canonized as a saint, though begrimed
with a multitude of offences; while she who
is possessed of every heavenly virtue, if guilty of one
offence that proves her a mortal, is immediately
thrown beyond the pale of society, and condemned
as unfit for this world, or that which is to come. But
I would have you die in a more consoling creed than
this.”

“I will, if I can.”

“You must. Let me not see you die as you have
lived, without hope.”

He led the horse slowly through the maple grove
towards their dwelling, and I returned to the small
settlement, which already assumed the name, though
not much the appearance of a village. Here I remained
about a week, when intelligence was received
that the female recluse was dead. All voices were
loud in sounding her praise, and the tears that were
shed were those of real sorrow, for often had she
ministered comfort to the sick, and spoke in glowing
terms to the dying of those hopes that she herself
would not venture to indulge.

The time the funeral was to take place, I repaired
to the hermitage with the villagers. The mourner
was alone, seated in front of his house; serious but
not sorrow stricken. As I approached with the rest,
he recognised me, rose, and offered his hand. “We
have met on more joyous occasions,” he said, “but

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

in this world we cannot expect always to bask in the
sunshine.”

“True, for the brightest day may be overcast before
the sun goes down.”

“And when the storm rages,” he added, “the loftiest
oak of the forest is most likely to be torn up and
riven.”

He silently led me to the door of the cottage; we
entered, and he ushered me into the room where the
corpse lay incoffined. He uncovered its face.

“Look there,” he said, “you have gazed in admiration
on that face, in a more brilliant scene than this,
but trust me not a happier. The day of death may
and should be rendered the happiest that life affords.
How purely beautiful she is even in death!”

I observed that her countenance was placid, and
that a sweet smile was on her lips. He caught my
hand and pressed it convulsively; tears gushed from
his eyes, and he scarcely articulated, “I strove for
years to produce that smile, and have finally succeeded.
There is nothing in life half so beautiful or dear
to me as that smile. It came over her lips as last
night she told me that her soul had cast its burthen,
and she died so easy that death froze the impression
there.”

He stood gazing at the departed in silence, until
it was time for the funeral to commence moving. It
was composed of about twenty of his neighbours.
We took up the body, and moved on towards the
grave prepared to receive it, which was in a small
cluster of cypress trees, a short distance from their
dwelling. It had been her favourite retreat in the
heat of the summer, and rude benches were here and
there placed from tree to tree. There was no one
to pronounce the impressive “dust to dust;” but the
open grave, and the mortal remains beside it, awakened
feelings in the rude minds of the mute spectators,
far more eloquent than words could embody.
Eloquence of thought is conferred on a greater number
than the powers of rhetoric. The mourner stood
at the head of the grave, and with his own hands

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

assisted in depositing the remains of all that he loved
on earth. He was as careful in this last duty as if
the senseless clay still retained the functions of vitality,
for he still valued the casket, though the
jewel was gone. He scattered a spade full of earth
upon the coffin; it was the signal, and the grave was
speedily closed. During this operation he stood
mute, stifled one convulsive sigh, but shed not a
single tear. Why should he weep, since the weary
was at rest? He returned to the hermitage. I accompanied
him, and the rustics withdrew to their
respective pursuits. The transition from life to
death is immediate, but not more so than from the
scene of death to the active employments of life, and
both appear to be made with equal unconcern.

“You will now return, I trust,” said I, “to society
again, for the object that occasioned your seclusion
no longer requires your care, and experience must
have taught you that you are not a fit subject for a
hermitage.”

“You appear to forget,” he replied, “that I am
a proscribed man, and that I must answer for human
blood unrighteously shed. Remember that he whose
perfidy broke the heart and blighted the fair fame of
her who was with me but yesterday, fell by this hand.
I neither condemn nor defend the act, but as long as
society is organized upon its present principles, in
spite of the cool sophistry of the sluggish in spirit,
and the furious denunciations of the heated in imagination,
I would do it again to-morrow, upon similar
provocation, though with the certainty of being
called forth the next moment to render an account
upon the scaffold.”

“The magnitude of your injury,” I replied, “may
obtain a pardon for your offence, even should it not
be already forgotten.”

“Forgotten! and are you so ignorant of the race
with which you daily mingle, as to suppose it to be
forgotten? True, the remembrance of it may sleep,
but my presence would awaken it in all its primitive
freshness, and with it my poor sister's shame, and a

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

thousand attending circumstances. Forgotten! disgrace
is never forgotten while the object lives, and,
like a contagion, it spreads to every member of the
family. Nay, such is the jaundiced eye with which
every thing human is viewed, that more become conspicuous
from the shame of a relative, than from
their own positive worth, however meritorious. God
spare me from such an order of things. Return!—
Never! I must still strike deeper into the wilderness,
where my name will never be mentioned and my
shame never heard.”

The following morning the hermitage was deserted.
With his rifle on his shoulder, the broken-hearted
man had already set out on his pilgrimage.

p375-120 RETRIBUTION.

I long have hunted for thee: and since now
Thou art in the toil, it is in vain to hope
Thou ever shalt break out. Thou dost deserve
The hangman's hook, or to be punished
More majorum, whipt with rods to death,
Or any way that were more terrible.
The Prophetess.

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

Revenge is as refreshing to the wounded spirit,
as the cool stream from the fountain to the fevered
lips of the dying. And he who has been trodden
on and branded, whose soul has endured the agony
of death without the relief it affords, looks forward
to the hour of retribution, like the delirious wretch,
whose vitals are consumed by a raging fever, and
who expects that a refreshing draught of water will
allay the poignancy of his sufferings. And so it
does; but, for a moment, and again it rages with redoubled
violence. How beautiful, how sublime is
that precept—the christian's golden rule—“forgive
us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass
against us!” But who would be thus adjudged?
Who is there, that does not hope to meet with more
mercy in his God, than he has shown towards his
fellow man? If there be one so confident in his own
purity, that he will be judged as he has adjudged
others—Heaven hear my prayer—have mercy on

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

him. We are made up of conflicting passions; and
thrown into a sphere where the mind most richly
endowed, by miracle alone can escape being goaded
to madness. There are those whose souls are as
sensitive as the mimosa plant; who shrink at every
breeze, and are lacerated by a touch; who possess
all that makes the mind lovely and beautiful, when
the current of life flows smoothly on—all that makes
it dark and terrible when the tempest threatens.

The germs of vice and virtue are mingled in like
proportions in every mind; and much depends upon
circumstances, whether the one or the other take
root in the soil and flourish. And yet how few can
look with an eye of compassion on the derelictions
of another. One act will constitute a villain, and
call forth the execration of mankind—and on the
other hand, the possessor of a thousand virtues seldom
meets his reward, and sinks into the grave as if
he were of as little worth as the worm that afterwards
consumes him. The praise and censure of
man are as uncertain and variable as the wind that
blows from the four corners of the earth.

I was born in one of the West India islands. My
parents were in affluent circumstances, and being
an only child and of feeble constitution, their indulgence
was unlimited. I was a creature of feeling;
sensibly alive to their boundless affection, which
was constantly before my eyes—never absent from
my thought; and at times I felt a fulness of soul in
their presence, beyond my little skill in metaphysics
to account for rationally. There are some whose
feelings are so delicately strung, affections so harmoniously
attuned, that an act, nay, a look of kindness,
even when in the vale of years, will make them
as it were a child again; such are ill calculated for
this rugged world; and I have often fancied when I
came in collision with them, that Providence had
designed them for a purer orb, but chance had thrown
them here.

My boyhood!—Oh! that I could blot that bright
period from my memory! I look back through a

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

waste of years—my heart sickens at the gloomy path
I have travelled—and reverts to the starting place,
when the prospect was as brilliant as a fervid imagination
could picture; but I have since learnt the
sun may rise in cloudless splendour, yet set amid
the horrors of a tempest.

At the age of twelve, it was my fate to lose both
my parents. Until that day I had never shed a tear
of affliction; but then the torrent rushed upon me
in all its terrors. I felt as if in an instant I had
been whirled through infinity of space to another
sphere. I doubted my identity. At times I could
not reconcile to my mind the possibility of my loss,
the thought of death having never cast a shade over
my vision of the future; and when I awoke to a full
conviction of my situation, in bitterness I called
upon God to relieve me from my load of misery.

My father had an only brother, to whose protection
he recommended me on his death-bed. I have
still in my memory, the look of my dying father,
when he conjured him to watch over my welfare, as
if I were his child; the earnest expression of countenance,
the look of mingled sorrow and affection
that he cast on me at the moment, and the heart
thrilling tone of voice shall never be erased from my
recollection, though things even of yesterday, in my
delirium are now forgotten. My uncle vowed to be
a father to me—gently drew me closely to his side,
pressed the cold hand of the dying man, and sealed
the compact with the impress of a tear. My father
sank upon the pillow; his eyes were still fixed on
me, but the glazing of death was over them.

I was removed to my uncle's house. He resided
on an extensive plantation, and was what the world
calls a thriving man. He had many slaves under
him, and, as too frequently is the case, was a tyrannical
master. There are those who imagine the Creator
was not bountiful enough when he made all things
for the use of man; but one half of the race must be
rendered subservient to the other. In my uncle's
house, resided an orphan girl, the niece of his wife.

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

She was a year younger than myself, and one of
those exquisite beings which nature in her hours of
prodigality lavishes her richest stores upon. Poor
Virginia! My uncle seldom spoke to her in language
of tenderness; never looked upon her with the eyes
of affection. He was an austere man—selfish—wholly
wrapped up in himself, and I never saw him smile,
unless while superintending the chastisement of a
slave. But his smile was like nothing human. It
was a smile of horrid satisfaction, and more painful
to the sufferer than the stripes he inflicted. I instinctively
avoided him, and poor Virginia was on
the rack whenever obliged to be in his presence.

His wife was a plain woman; a woman of worth
as the world goes, but evidently broken down in
spirit. Her affections had been violently crushed;
no one feeling of her heart finding a corresponding
feeling in him to whom she was unalterably bound;
and if you take woman from her genial world of
sympathy and affection, what is she?

During the first three years after my father's
death, I was sent to the best school the island afforded.
My thirst for knowledge was inordinate; it
soon became a ruling passion, for as my mind enlarged,
I was aware how little I had attained, and
every new light only served to show the inexhaustible
store of knowledge that lay before me. Within
my eye's reach, there was enough to engross a life
of study. The sea and the heavens were, however,
the books that I most perused. They filled my mind
with feelings, calculated to weaken the ties which
connected me with this world rather than with knowledge.
As I stood upon the beach, and listened to
the mighty roar of waters; saw wave chasing wave
in endless succession, and beheld the progress of the
wind, increased from a gentle zephyr to a tempest,
lashing the waters to fury; as I lay upon the hill at
midnight, and watched the motions of the heavenly
bodies, worlds so distant, that hundreds could be
surveyed at a single glance; I thought of the causes
said to govern them in their motions and phenomena,

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

and felt that mind was too narrow to conceive them
all.

These thoughts engrossed my mind. Day and
night were devoted to their investigation, and every
new discovery only tended to increase my thirst for
knowledge. I secluded myself from the world, and
my knowledge of mankind did not increase with my
years. Indeed, I knew not even the few who frequented
my uncle's house; and, as to the world at
large, I had but such an erroneous view as works of
fiction presented. The only being that I thoroughly
knew, was poor Virginia, and with such my fervid
imagination peopled the world. I have since found
the wildness of my error.

From my course of study, natural timidity, and
seldom coming in collision with mankind, I became
as sensitive as the plant that enfolds its leaves if the
wind too rudely kisses it. Thus constituted, it was
torture to be in the presence of my uncle. My
aversion was insurmountable, and increased to such
a degree, that I avoided my meals rather than encounter
him at the table. Every sense was alive to
him. The sound of his most distant step was familiar
to my ear, and I imagined that even the breeze
that passed over him indicated his approach. The
severity of his conduct towards Virginia, tended to
increase my aversion, and to add to the warmth of
the interest I entertained for that neglected one.
She soon became sensible of my feelings and estimated
them. O God! what agony had I escaped if
that martyr had been to me as heartless as the rest
of the world. But the generous mind is not so severely
stricken by its own sorrows, as by the afflictions
of her with whom its tenderest thoughts repose.
This crushed me. My own burthen, alas! I could
have borne; or, like the fabled Sisyphus, would daily
have resumed; but to behold the sufferings of her I
loved, the patient, the pious resignation to her cruel
fate, drove me frantic. In my agony I arraigned
the justice of Heaven, cursed mankind, and imprecated
curses on my own head; but that was

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

needless, for they had fallen thickly, and blighted as they
fell.

Virginia and myself were privately married. From
that moment my views of the world were changed.
I felt myself a beggar; and, when too late, I became
sensible of the madness of blighting her hopes by
joining her fate with his whose prospects were so
gloomy. I had assumed the character of her protector,
and was unable even to protect myself. Her
presence had hitherto been to me as the star to the
tempest-tost mariner; but now there was nothing on
earth occasioned such agony as her presence. And
why was this? My love was as pure as that which
angels entertain, and as boundless and as ardent too.
Every good feeling of my heart reposed in her, unadulterated,
for there was not that being on earth to
dispute her hold upon my affections. She had created
in my mind an ideal world, too brilliant for mortals
to inhabit, and as I looked around to find those to
people it, she alone appeared worthy. My dream
was wild with ecstacy; but oh! the awakening was
terrible.

We continued under my uncle's roof, the circumstance
of our marriage still remaining a secret. The
time, however, soon arrived, when it became necessary
for me to divulge what had transpired. My
uncle assumed anger, calling me pauper, and ridiculed
my presumption in taking upon myself the
support of a family. He taunted me, and even in
the agony of the moment I beheld the sarcastic smile
upon his lip. My brain was in a whirl; nothing
was distinct, and every passion was goaded to frenzy,
yet I did not smite him, for the image of my poor
Virginia crossed my mind, and I resolved to humble
myself in the dust for her sake. I thought of
her forlorn condition, and wept in the agony of the
moment. He ridiculed my tears. There was a
fiend-like smile of irony on his lips—all reflection
vanished—the savage was awaked, and I sprang
upon him. We fell prostrate to the earth together;
what followed I know not, but when I came to my

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

reason, I found that his household had assembled,
and I was in the custody of his slaves. That night
Virginia and myself were thrust from his doors.

I had heard of the wealth of my father, and that
his property had come into my uncle's hands, but
as to the value or extent of this property, I had no
evidence. I called upon him to make restitution—
he treated the claim with contempt—called me a
pennyless vagrant, who had repaid his protection
with ingratitude, and commanded me never to show
my face in his presence again.

I returned to the house where Virginia awaited
in anxious suspense the result of my errand. As I
entered, she hastened to meet me; there was a ray
of hope crossed her lovely countenance, which in
an instant was extinguished, for my sad looks realized
her worst fears before my lips were opened. I
pressed her to my bosom and wept in silence. She
vainly endeavoured to sooth my anguish, but the
appalling future had taken possession of my soul,
and I could not bear up against it.

I resorted to the law for redress; hopeless resort!
for justice is so tardy in her movements that she
suffers the hour to pass when she might serve, beyond
which nothing is left for her but to bestow a
gorgeous monument on him she made a pauper.
More suffer by the law than those who offend against
it; and more frequently the innocent than the guilty
suffer.

My uncle, exasperated at the steps I had taken,
brought a suit against me for supporting Virginia
and myself during our minority. I was destitute
of money—of consequence, destitute of friends, and
was consigned to prison for want of the necessary
bail. Virginia followed me there, and we remained
together during the day, and at night she left me.

She found that shelter in the cabin of a slave which
her uncle's roof denied her. His name was Gambia,
a man of feeling superior to his station. Virginia
had ministered to the wants of his wife, when
on her sick bed, and by her care did much towards

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

restoring her. The poor fellow's gratitude knew
no bounds. He laboured night and day to increase
her comforts; and solicited all, where there was the
remotest hope of success, to interfere for my liberation.

Day passed after day, and week succeeded week,
and I seemed to be forgotten by all the world but
Virginia and the slave. The sun had scarcely risen
before she was at my prison door, and at night he
came to escort her to his lonely dwelling. Health
had forsaken me, and the disease of my body had
affected my mind. At times madness took possession
of my brain, and my actual sufferings were forgotten,
for then I dreamt of revenge, and I have
laughed at the bloody picture painted in such vivid
colours that it appeared palpable to the touch, until
the vaults re-echoed with the frightful sounds that
passed my lips, and startled my wandering senses
back to reason. And then I would ruminate upon
my dreadful condition, until my fears that I should
become mad, nearly drove me so. The rush of
thought would come like a deluge on me: still growing
wilder and more hurried, and all this time I was
sensible; my feelings were alive to my situation, and
with the vain hope to stem the torrent, I would cling
to some rational idea, like a drowning man to a straw—
but it proved no more than such—the one still
clenches fast to the frail reed in the agonized grasp
of death, and I clung to my idea in the wildest rush
of madness.

Thus passed my solitary nights. I had been imprisoned
for some months, and Virginia, even when
sickness should have occasioned her absence, would
not suffer one day to pass over without visiting me.
I beheld her wasting frame, and conjured her not
thus unnecessarily to expose her health. Still she
came, though the task was as much as, in her feeble
state, she could accomplish. She knew the influence
of her presence over me, and ran every hazard rather
than forsake me at such a time. The day, however,
arrived when she came not. My mind was filled

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

with apprehensions, and I awaited anxiously for the
evening, when the appearance of Gambia would explain
the cause. The evening arrived, yet brought
not Gambia with it. I passed a sleepless night of
dreadful suspense, and looked for the first streak of
morning with as much impatience as if it were to
restore me to liberty. It came, and still I received
no tidings of Virginia. My suspense now increased
to agony. Time never passed so heavily as on that
day. Mental suffering consists more in the apprehension
of ill, than in the ill itself, however great its
magnitude.

I thought night would never arrive, and yet I
dreaded its approach. I was on the eve of some
important change; what I knew not, but it is the
weakness of human nature to fear that any change,
however desperate our condition, may be for the
worse. I had fancied myself beyond the reach of
fate to sink me lower, and yet I feared to learn what
was about to be developed.

As I beheld the last ray of the setting sun fade
away in the west, the raging fever of my mind increased,
and I cried “A little longer, yet stay a
little longer.” I felt like one who sees the lightning's
flash, and expects the bolt to crush him.
There was no mistaking my feelings; they foretold
ill, but what it was I could not imagine. When I
thought of my abject state, I laughed in derision at
my fears, and the bare walls re-echoed my laugh; I
startled at the frantic sound, and my fears came over
me with redoubled vigour.

My prison was now enveloped in darkness. The
hour, I felt, was near at hand, and I seated myself
upon my bed of straw, and struggled to be calm. I
endeavoured to fix my wandering mind on some rational
subject; but it was impossible; the most frantic
ideas were constantly obtruding, and I thought
these rational too, until startled by the wildness of
my imaginings.

A step was now heard in the entry which led to
my prison; a flash of light crossed the wall, which

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

was immediately succeeded by the rattling of keys
at my door. I sat motionless. The jailer entered;
he spoke, but I heard him not, for I looked for those
whom I imagined accompanied him. I looked in
vain—he was alone. I fell backwards on the bed.
When I revived, I found myself supported by the
jailer, who was chafing my temples with water. I
inquired for Virginia and Gambia. “Be comforted,”
he replied; “Your imprisonment is at an end.” I
looked at him with astonishment, and thought, indeed,
that my sorrows had at length turned my brain.
He continued, showing a paper, “here is my warrant
to set you at liberty, and I assure you I am as
glad to see it as you can be.” I laughed frantically.
I knew not what he meant. Could it be derision?
What friend had I on earth to intercede
for me? I knew of none. And if there were such,
why was not Virginia or Gambia the first to communicate
the happy tidings to me. These thoughts
passed through my brain like lightning, and made
me wilder. The jailer bade me rise and follow him,
and I did so as submissively as if I had been his
slave. He led through the windings of the entrance
into the open air. I looked around with wonder,
and my bosom expanded to the fresh breeze. He
shook me by the hand, said “God bless you,” and
returned to the prison. I was alone. The cool night
breeze refreshed my burning temples; I saw the
stars above me, and heard the constant roar of the
distant ocean. I laughed aloud for joy; and, conscious
that I was free, darted off wildly, fearing
that I might again be imprisoned. I hurried on
with the swiftness of the deer. Madness gave me
speed, for at every sound I imagined my persecutors
were in pursuit of me. I had but one hope,
which was to reach Gambia's hut, and remain concealed
until danger should pass by.

I reached the hut breathless with fear. The door
was closed, and a light feebly glimmered through
the casement of the window. The wind rustled
among the sugar-cane; every pore in my frame

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

seemed to be endowed with the faculty of hearing,
and every sense was strained to that exquisite acuteness
as to approach agony. I was as timid as the
hunted hare, or the fawn whose dam has been
stricken; and I imagined the noise proceeded from
my pursuers. That thought was madness. Shall
I be overtaken; dragged back to my loathsome prison,
without having satisfied my doubts—without
having seen Virginia? I summoned all my strength,
and dashed my body against the door of the hut: it
yielded to the pressure, and I fell insensible on the
floor. I heard a shriek of terror as I fell.

How long I lay in this condition, I know not.
When I revived, the hut was deserted. The light
was still burning; and, as I arose, I perceived there
was much blood upon the floor. My face was wet,
and, on feeling it, I discovered a gash in my forehead,
from which the blood was profusely flowing.
When the mind is wounded the body feels no pain.
I stood erect, and called on Virginia, but no answer
was returned; I called on Gambia with all my
strength; and as the echo of my voice died away,
nothing was heard but the wind that rustled through
the cane-brake, and the monotonous roar of the
ocean.

My perplexities increased. It was surely Gambia's
hut I was in. I had stood on the same spot
repeatedly: it was the place where Virginia had
found shelter, and yet she was not there, and there
was no one to guide me to her. I had been liberated
by some unknown friend. Who was this friend,
and how was this friendship purchased? We were
as destitute as the pauper who lives on common
charity; yet Virginia was the loveliest of God's
creatures—A thought rushed through my brain
like molten lead, and I felt as if it seared its vitality
in the passage. I shrieked with anguish, then cursed
myself for the guilty doubt.

There was a small apartment adjoining that in
which I stood; the door was open, and the room was
quite dark. It was this apartment she had told me

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

she occupied. I raised the light to enter the room,
with the hope of discovering there some trace of my
wife. I entered; all was silent. In one corner of
the room lay a mass of something. I raised the light
and discovered a coarse bed lying on the floor. I
drew near to it; there was some one in it who stirred
not; I listened, but heard no sound of breathing.
The light fell upon the features of the person; they
were motionless and pale as ashes; I stooped and
placed my hand upon the forehead; it was cold and
polished as marble. How long I remained in this
position I know not; my mind was wandering. At
length consciousness returned. I removed the covering
from the bosom of the corpse in the excitement
of the moment, and beheld a new born infant
reposing there, whose life had been as brief as the
light of a falling star that approaches earth for an
instant, and again is caught in heaven. I shrieked
the name of Virginia and fell upon the body.

When I was restored to consciousness, I found
myself supported by Gambia, and his wife was
standing at a short distance from me. She shrunk
back as I fixed my eyes on her, for there was madness
in my glance, and my face was covered with
blood. The kind souls did what they could to soothe
my feelings.

I learned that Virginia had died the evening preceding,
in giving birth to her infant. The child soon
followed its mother. Gambia then left the cabin to
effect my release. He had, heretofore, solicited all,
where there was the remotest prospect of success,
but in vain. There was one hope still left. Several
years before, he had saved a youth from drowning;
the son of a wealthy planter, who had now
arrived at man's estate. The circumstance, until
that moment, had escaped the generous mind of the
slave. He resolved to apply to him, though he lived
at the other extremity of the island. He started—
travelled all night, and the request was no sooner
made than complied with by the young planter.
The application reminded him of the benevolent

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

spirit to which he was indebted for his life. Gambia
had not yet returned from his journey when I
abruptly broke into his cabin, where his wife, being
alone with a dead body, had her superstitious fears
awakened, and fled in terror on my entrance.

I was now alone in the world. All that was dear
to me remained to be consigned to the earth. My
thoughts and feelings at that moment partook of the
wildness and rapidity of a being who inhabits a lesser
globe than this, and is whirled through space with
tenfold the velocity. Thought succeeded thought
with the quickness and brilliancy of lightning—a
flash came, and all was darkness; no impression
remained save one—my duty to the earthly remains
of my wife and child. I had no claim upon mankind,
and I considered myself accountable to no one
for my actions.

I commanded the slave and his wife to follow me
into the little garden attached to the cabin. They
did so—the woman bearing a lantern. We proceeded
in silence to the extremity, and stopped beneath
the branches of a luxuriant plantain. “This,” I
cried, “is a peaceful spot, and here we will dig the
grave.” They made no reply, but Gambia withdrew,
and immediately returned with tools for the
purpose. We commenced our labour, which was
speedily performed, and not a word was spoken.

We returned to the cabin. My mind was as restless
as the whirlwind. I looked around to find something
to supply the place of a coffin, and beheld a
long chest which belonged to the woman. I motioned
to her to empty it, which she did. I then
raised the body of my wife, and deposited it in the
chest. The infant I placed upon her bosom, and
knelt beside them, but wept not. My eyes ached
to burst, and were as dry as bone, and there was a
fulness about my heart that almost prevented respiration.
I wished to weep, for I felt that I should
find relief in a flood of tears; but it was impossible.
I heard the woman sob aloud, and beheld the silent
grief of Gambia, then again turned to gaze on the

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

inanimate clay before me. I could have gazed for
ever.

With a desperate energy I closed the lid of the
chest, and rose from my knees. I motioned to Gambia
to take hold of one end of the chest; I raised the
other, and we moved towards the grave; the deep
silence only broken by the stifled sobs of the woman,
who followed with the light. The chest was
gently deposited, and we filled the earth upon it.
Still not a word passed the lips of either; but the
features of the slaves denoted their deep affliction,
and their eyes were fixed on me. As to myself, I
was insensible. There is a point beyond which the
ills of this world cannot reach us, and I had already
arrived at it. Those who have nothing to hope, have
nothing to fear, and my last hope was buried. When
the grave was closed, I was astonished at the wonderful
change my mind had undergone; a transition
from an ungovernable tempest to a dead calm. I
felt that she whose sufferings had driven me to madness,
was at rest; the thought crushed me to the
earth, yet there was a melancholy satisfaction in it.
I threw my feverish body upon the bed from which
I had just taken Virginia, where I remained until
morning; but, whether I slept or watched I know
not, for sleeping and awake, the same dreams constantly
flitted through my mind.

The morning broke in splendour. The sun, when
just heaving up from the joyous ocean, beheld me
standing by the grave of Virginia. I looked upon
the emerald surface of the sea; and the frothy pinnacles
of the waves, as white as flakes of snow,
were tinged with streaks of gold by the beams of
the sun. The morning breeze came fresh from the
face of the water. There was not a cloud in the
sky, and the atmosphere was so pellucid, that I imagined
my sight could penetrate farther than was
permitted to mortal vision. The birds sang joyously;
the trees, the flowers, and vines sent forth their
odours, and there was a freshness in nature beyond
what I had ever experienced until that moment.

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

“These things were mine,” I cried, “and I was
formed to enjoy them as few enjoy!” My eyes fell
upon the fresh earth beneath my feet, and I felt my
desolation.

“Vengeance, vengeance!” I cried, “upon the fell
destroyer. While I have life, I will pursue him
with deadly hate. Powerful as he is, I will work
his downfall. We cannot breathe the same atmosphere
in peace, until my vengeance is satisfied.
Through life I will be as an adder in his sight,
and even in death he shall not escape me.” It was
but the threat of an impotent boy in his delirium.

Time rolled on; vengeance was my dream, but
the power of executing it was beyond my grasp.
Besides, the course to be pursued was still undefined.
“Shall I murder him?” My blood curdled
at the thought. Still vengeance was never absent
from my mind.

About a fortnight after the death of Virginia, as
the sun was setting, I wandered near the dwelling
house of my uncle. I beheld at a distance an assemblage
of slaves in the yard, and on approaching, discovered
that some one was undergoing the punishment
of the lash. I could readily discern the tall
figure of the merciless master, and that the scourge
was in his own hand. As I drew nigh, I met a slave,
who informed me that Gambia was suffering chastisement
for having effected my liberation from prison,
and subsequently harbouring me. I rushed to
the spot, my mind was in a whirlwind of passion.
I saw the bleeding body of the generous slave—and
he suffered for my sake! I saw the blood-stained
scourge in the upraised hand of the inflexible monster,
ready to inflict another wound. Ferocity was
in his countenance; his thin lips were compressed;
his teeth clenched; his face pale with rage, and every
nerve was braced with hellish determination; but
before the blow was given, I sprang upon him and
planted a knife in his bosom. He fell at my feet,
and the blood spouted forth from the wound.

The almost exhausted slave raised his languid

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

head. A momentary smile of satisfaction crossed
his countenance as he beheld his tyrant prostrate,
but it was succeeded by deep dejection when he
saw by whom the blow was given.

“Oh! master,” he cried, “why did you do this?
You will now suffer much, but poor Gambia will
not suffer less for it. I know you are the slave's
friend; but the poor slave has no friend if his master
is his enemy.”

He sank exhausted and was carried away. My
uncle was removed into the house; but not until he
had given orders to have me secured. I was conducted
back to my prison, charged with an attempt
to murder. The sudden change in my condition
gave me but little uneasiness, for place and circumstances
were now indifferent to me.

Towards the evening of the following day, I learned
from the jailer that my uncle's wound was by no
means dangerous, and that Gambia had since died
of the severe stripes he had received. I cursed all
human laws which extended protection to such a
monster as my uncle, and arraigned the wisdom of
Heaven in giving him existence. Blind mortal!
Neither the ways of man nor of God were longer
to be insulted.

He was arraigned and tried for murder. The
proud man appeared in court, as if no law beyond
his own will could reach him. He considered the
charge as idle: he had but taken the life of his own
property, and what had the law to do with this, since
he alone was the loser? But he learned that the
law protects the life of a slave, though at the same
time it deprives him of all that makes life valuable.
He was convicted and sentenced to be executed.

When I heard this, the first thought that occurred
to me was, that he had escaped my vengeance.
There are injuries which few are willing that the
law should redress, and mine were of that description.
I thirsted for vengeance more ardently as the
probability of attaining it diminished. Could I die
in peace without it? He was imprisoned in the cell

[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]

adjoining mine; the partition was thin, and as he
paced the room the familiar sound of his footsteps
awakened recollections that had slumbered in my
mind from early youth. I listened night and day
to that sound, for it was joy to know that my enemy
was near me, though I could not reach him. Still
I had sworn he should not escape me, and what may
not man accomplish when his mind is resolved?

The day appointed for his execution arrived. The
sun arose in all its splendour before the eyes of the
prisoner; but those eyes were to be closed in eternal
darkness before that sun should withdraw its
light from the earth. My brain was wild as I arose
from my feverish couch in expectation of the approaching
hour. I had passed a sleepless night; for
when exhausted nature sank into momentary oblivion,
the image of my wife passed before me, and
then came the lacerated form of the murdered Gambia,
who shouted aloud, “Awake, awake, he will
escape your vengeance!”

At the dead of night I listened to the hurried
tread of the prisoner; I heard him sigh, and the
walls of my cell re-echoed with frantic laughter;
he paused for a moment, and then resumed his walk.
My prison door was unbarred in the morning, and I
was led forth by the jailer.

The crowd assembled early before the prison,
eagerly anticipating the execution as if it had been
a harmless amusement, instead of an awful punishment;
and many were in the crowd who begrudged
the prisoner the few remaining moments of life; not
that they execrated him for his offence, but that the
appalling spectacle was delayed.

A fearful shriek was now heard to proceed from
the prison, which for a moment completely silenced
the hum of the crowd. The cause was soon divined.
“He is parting from his wife,” murmured several,
their voices softened by the thought of so melancholy
a parting. The information ran rapidly through
the crowd. All eyes were turned towards the prison

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door, whence a second shriek was heard, more heartpiercing
than the former, and the prisoner appeared
a moment afterwards, clad in white, and guarded.
His cheeks were pale and hollow with sickness, but
the fierce glance of his deep black eye was rather
heightened than diminished. His attenuated form
was erect, his step firm, and his countenance immovable,
as he descended from the prison and took
his seat in the cart which was in waiting to bear him
to the gallows. The clergyman, and the hangman,
masked in his impenetrable disguise, sat beside him.
He who was to terminate the affairs of this world,
and he who was to usher into the world to come,
were there.

The concourse moved slowly on, while hymns
were chanted for the salvation of the soul of the
sinner; but he did not join his voice in the holy
anthem. He was the same obdurate man to the last;
changed in appearance, it is true, but not by the
terrors of approaching death; not by a consciousness
of hopeless anguish inflicted on the wife of
his bosom, but from a sense of degradation. He
was proud, overbearing, tyrannical, and was now
held up to the gaze of the slaves he had trampled
on; and he felt that they had reason to rejoice in his
downfall. His features were pale and haggard, but
even while he moved on there was a proud smile of
scorn about his thin lips, and a savage glare in his
eye, as it fell upon the dark train that followed him
to the gallows.

The clergyman besought him to meet his death in
a different spirit—with fear and trembling; with
meekness and contrition: but the proud man turned
from the exhortation with disdain. The hymn that
ascended from those who surrounded us, sounded
in his ears like a song of triumph from his enemies,
which was chanted only to fill the measure of his
shame. His looks expressed this sentiment, and
the clergyman was not ignorant of what was passing
in his mind.

“Bend your obdurate heart,” said the pious man;

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“forgive your enemies, and pray to be forgiven as
you forgive. Meet your fate as He met his who
died that all mankind might live. Bethink you of
your manifold transgressions, and while there is
time left to you, blot out the deep stain from your
soul, with the purifying tear of repentance.”

“Leave me to my own thoughts; you trouble me,”
said the prisoner, without turning his face towards
the other.

“This is not the spirit in which a Christian should
appear before his God.”

“But such as he should maintain before his fellow
man,” returned the other in a decided tone, but
without moving his head.

“Remember you have an awful account to render”—

“Right, we all have; so adjust your own, and
leave mine, of which you can know nothing, to
myself.”

“I know but little, it is true, but that little makes
me tremble.” The prisoner made no reply, for he
was apparently occupied in deep thought.

“Think of Virginia,” I exclaimed, “who was
martyred in the very wantonness of your cruelty.”

He started from his meditations, and shrunk as if
an adder had stung him. His eyes were turned upon
me, but my squalid habiliments defied their penetration,
and grief and madness had completely changed
the tones of my voice. He did not recognise me.

“Think,” continued the clergyman, “of your inhumanity
to the poor slave for doing an act which
God will recompense with life eternal; though in
the blindness of passion you thought it merited death
in this world. Think of the wife of your bosom,
whose heart is broken by your pride, cruelty, and
consequent abasement. Revert to the race you have
run from the commencement of your career, that
your obdurate heart may be awakened to conviction
of your awful state. You have passed through life,
as if life and death had been at your disposal. You
have trod the earth as if it had been the work of

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thine own hand, without reflecting that thou art as
a worm compared to Him who made all things.
Reflect, repent, and die not as the fool dieth. Thy
life has been painful to the sight of man; let not
thy death be offensive in the eye of God.” Still
the stern and pallid countenance of the convict betrayed
no emotion.

“Think,” I cried, “of the nephew you have robbed,
and persecuted to madness, with the unsparing
hatred of a fiend. Think of your promise to your
dying brother to protect and love.”

My grief had imparted an unearthly sound to my
voice, and it seemed as if I partook in some degree
of the powers of ventriloquism. I beheld his whole
form shudder, and he gazed around to discover from
whom the voice proceeded. His search was fruitless.
He rallied his mental energies and maintained
an obdurate silence.

Having arrived beneath the gallows, the clergyman
resumed his entreaties to awake the better feelings
of the sinful man; earnest prayers were offered
for his sake by numbers who knelt around, and the
pure sea-breeze, as it passed over them, wafted the
melody of hymns to heaven. Still he stood erect
as a statue among them: as pale as marble, as senseless,
and as immovable. I should have wept as I
beheld him thus, had he not crushed my affections
and dried the very fountain of my tears; but I thought
of Virginia, of Gambia, and a curse from my lips
ascended with the prayers of those who had not
felt his tyranny. The thought strengthened me to
fulfil my purpose. I had sworn he should not escape
my vengeance, and the last moment we should be
together in this world was at hand.

The religious service ceased. There was a death-like
stillness in the crowd. I was on the platform
with the criminal, and yet he knew me not, though
I frequently touched his person, and his eyes were
often fixed on me. Still he knew that it was one
who hated. The cord was secured over the gallows—
the knot adjusted beneath his ear. My hand

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adjusted it! and in the act I breathed the name of
Virginia. Though senseless as a monumental image,
he became as nerveless as the new born babe. I
moved to his front in order to draw the cap over his
eyes. I paused for a moment to behold his agitation,
and then drew the mask from my own face. He
shrieked my name and staggered back. I shouted
“Retribution!” and, laughing frantically, leaped from
the platform. His eyes were fixed on me. I thought
they implored my mercy; but I continued to laugh
like a maniac, and seizing an axe at hand, with one
blow knocked away the frail support of the platform:
he saw the motion—I heard the crash, and the shriek
from the crowd—then all was darkness, and I fell
insensible on the ground.

At my trial I was acquitted on the plea of insanity.
When my uncle's papers were examined,
sufficient evidence was discovered to establish my
claim to the possessions left by my father. I was
now a man of affluence; but what is wealth to the
broken hearted? It cannot recall the deed of yesterday,
or bribe the grave to yield to life its tenant.

p375-141 MADNESS.

“Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend
Which is the mightier.”—Hamlet.
—Huic ego vulgum
Errori similem cunctum insanire docebo.
Horace, Sat. III.

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The light of reason has elevated man immeasurably
above the rest of God's creatures, and when
enjoyed even to the extent allowable, it assumes the
aspect of a godlike attribute, and the mind, no longer
circumscribed by the narrow limits that imprison
the body, threads the universe. It delves the earth
to the centre, and the caverns of the ocean are
searched. The sun, the moon, and the stars are traversed,
and even the sacred vaults of heaven are approached
by the mercurial spirit. The mind, framed
to enjoy such research, bears within itself an exhaustless
fountain of delight. It soars beyond this
world, and the realities of life cannot wound it.

Though reason elevates man above the rest of the
animal kingdom, yet, when deprived of it, he becomes
more abject than the humblest of creatures.
There is nothing so powerfully calculated to shock
our natures as the scene exhibited in a receptacle of
maniacs. Death, the end of all things, is not to be
compared with it, for that is natural; but to witness

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the annihilation of mind, while the body still retains
its functions, is a sight that cannot be reconciled to
our feelings. It is literally death in the midst of
life, and death of the better part.

Some years ago I entered a receptacle of this description,
to gratify my curiosity, but time has been
unable to efface the impression which it made upon
me, and the scene stands pictured in my memory as
one of the few, fearfully impressive, which occur in
the equable life of an ordinary man.

I entered the yard, common to such as were harmless
in their aberrations. Each appeared to be absorbed
with his own reflections, and the train of
thought was indicated by the movements of the body.
Here might be seen one whose steps were hurried,
and his gesticulation wild; and there another, whose
movements were regular and measured; his brows
knit, and his head bent to his bosom, over which his
arms were folded.

I moved through the crowd until my attention
was arrested by a gray haired man on his knees,
making figures in the sand. He was intent in calculation.
His visage was small, and fox-like. His
eyes were deep set and twinkling; his nose pointed
and thin; his chin projected, and his mouth receded.
Every line of his countenance denoted avarice. He
did not notice our approach until the keeper accosted
him.

“Well, Jamieson, what are you about?”

“Casting up the amount of my property,” he replied,
without raising his head. “A moment and I
have done.—Ten and eight are eighteen, and two
are twenty. There it is as clear as day light. Twenty
thousand, every copper of it. And not a sixpence
yields me less than twelve per cent. Ha! ha! ha!
I may laugh at the world now, I think.”

“And at your heirs, too, Jamieson,” said the
keeper.

“Hang them for ungrateful hounds,” exclaimed
the miser, “they would have clapped me in a madhouse
for having dropped a dollar in the poor-box,

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after listening to a charity sermon. They pronounced
me mad, and unfit to take care of my wealth.
They wished to become my stewards; the devil
thank them. But the dogs had reason. A hard
round dollar in the charity-box, was a symptom to
be sure, but then look there, twenty thousand at
twelve per cent! Could they have done better as
the times go, mad as they pronounce me?” He
smiled and chuckled in a satisfied tone at the idea
of his imaginary possessions, and as I left him I involuntarily
exclaimed, “Wherein does the happiness
of this deluded wretch differ from that of the
miser who worships his hoard of gold in secret.
Their joys are equally imaginary, and he who dreams
that he is worth thousands, provided the dream be
never broken, is in fact as wealthy as he who is possessed
of thousands and spends his life in dreaming
over his possessions. How many maniacs of this
description do we daily see, who are not only permitted
to run at large, but who are pronounced to
be in the full possession of their mental faculties!”

My attention was now attracted by a young man
reciting Homer in the original. The musical numbers
flowed from his tongue with eloquence, his
countenance was animated and his gesticulation impassioned.
When he concluded the passage, he exclaimed,
“Well, that is poetry, and will remain so,
let them say of my epic what they please.”

“Your epic?” I exclaimed.

“Yes; they pronounced me mad for having written
a poem that the critics had neither taste to relish
nor sense to comprehend. If this is to be the fate
of all authors, who experience similar condemnation,
let them convert the whole world at once into a bedlam—
your prison houses will be too small to hold us.
And who is there to draw the line between insanity
and reason. If my imagination be so vigorous as to
soar beyond the reach of those who cannot dissolve
the influence of this grovelling world, which draws
them back with magnetic power, must I needs be
mad!—If their waxen wings fail them in their

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attempt to follow me through untravelled regions of
light and glory, and while I keep on with steady
wing and eagle eye, they, for their temerity, share
the fate of Icarus—for this may they pronounce me
mad! And yet it is so.—But who is there to draw
the line! Sophocles, in his age, was accused of being
insane by his heartless sons; but when before his
judges he produced his last tragedy, and asked if a
madman could write such verses, he was dismissed
with fresh honours, and his sons were punished as
madmen for making the accusation. Were I now to
write an Œdipus Colonæus, such is the revolution
that taste in literature has undergone, that the critics
would pronounce it conclusive evidence of incurable
insanity. The line between madness and reason
changes with the age. I have lived a century
before my time, and posterity will enjoy the epic
that has consigned its author to bedlam.” How
many authors do we see at large labouring under
similar delusion!

At a short distance from the poet was a painter,
busily engaged in his art. We approached him, and
the keeper enquired of him what he was about.

“Drawing a map of the moon,” was the reply.

“And what do you mean by that palace upon which
you have bestowed so much care?”

“The residence of the man in the moon, to be
sure.”

“Is the drawing accurate?”

“Ay; even to the smoke that you see ascending
from the chimney. Behold, I have laid down, with
precision, all the rivers, oceans, mountains and wilderness;
and I will stake my reputation that the
picture is as faithful as many of the representations
of the globe we inhabit.” Not being prepared to
dispute the point with the maniac, I passed on and
he resumed his labour.

He worked with intense earnestness, but in the
world we daily see hundreds as busily employed,
and to as little purpose.

The next we came to was an astronomer, looking

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through a telescope. “What, Lawson, will you
never have done with your astronomical researches?”
said the keeper to him.

“Never, until death puts a period to them. Had
I been created at the time that the wondrous fabric
was first put in motion; when each sphere rung forth
its first faint note as it slowly moved on its axle,
and had I studied daily until the present hour, still
the knowledge I might have acquired, compared with
that beyond the grasp of the human mind, would
have been as the acorn compared with the towering
oak of the forest.”

“And what has been the result of your researches?”

“Inexplicable confusion. I perceive that space
is illimitable, and that thought alone, is beyond the
utmost stretch of the human mind to reconcile with
things that are bounded and circumscribed. There
is nothing in nature that comes in comparison with
this phenomenon. I have thought of it until my
brain became as bewildered as that of the tenant of
an hospital.” The keeper smiled at the comparison,
and the maniac proceeded—“I have been told
that the planets maintain their position by gravity
and attraction; that the atmosphere becomes lighter
and more rarified as you recede from earth, and that,
of consequence, the globes poised in this pure element
must be of lighter consistency than that we
inhabit. One visionary tells me that such an orb is
composed of matter as light as water, another orb
of weightier consistency, and that the animal kingdom
every where is adapted to the planet on which
it is created. So that where water prevails the tritons
and the mermaids, which in this sphere exist
only in the poet's brain, have their functions of
vitality. Other and the most remote of the heavenly
bodies are nothing more than dense atmosphere, and
these are inhabited by birds; that space is filled by
fluctuating nebulæ, which are drawn together by
attraction, and thus the work of creation is incessantly
going on, and will continue until time shall

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be no more. That the comets are orbs of bituminous
matter, which, becoming ignited, burn on for
ages, until extinguished for want of fuel, and, as
their gravity and attraction undergo constant change,
their course is erratic and uncontrolled by the surrounding
atmosphere. I have read until I became
like a ship in the midst of the ocean, without compass
or polar star to guide it, and then the philosophers
pronounced me mad and expelled me from
their fraternity. If they were to deal thus with all
mad philosophers, their number would soon be reduced
to a chosen few.”

I now directed my steps towards a maniac, who,
from an elevation, was addressing about a dozen
auditors, who appeared to listen to him with attention.
His head was gray and bare; his countenance
animated, his gesticulation wild, and he spoke with
a degree of vehemence that imparted a corresponding
excitement to the minds of his auditors.

“The world is mad; I look abroad, and whatever
my eye falls upon, goes to establish the truth of my
position. Behold yon hoary headed father hoarding
his wealth for his thankless child; depriving himself
of proper sustenance to add another mite to the
mountain that he has already accumulated. A little
longer and we shall see tears of joy shed upon
the old man's grave; the mountain of wealth levelled
with the valley; the stream that was formed drop
by drop rush out in torrents. And yet the world
pronounces the dotard full of wisdom and prudence.”

“The world is mad! the world is mad!” wildly
shouted the crowd around him. The preacher continued.
“Behold that pallid and emaciated being
by the midnight lamp. The sun rises, sets, and rises
again, and still we find him in the same position,
consuming his life, even as the lamp is consumed
that stands beside him. The main object of life is
neglected, and the joys that the world presents are
spurned as things unworthy of notice. His whole
soul is absorbed with one idea, but one wish—that
succeeding ages may know that he existed, and to

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accomplish this, he renders that existence a burthen,
heavier than that the fabled Atlas has to bear. The
world will tell us he is a model of human wisdom;
but if this be wisdom, why build walls to confine
lunatics? Who is there so frantic among us as to
sacrifice every enjoyment of life, with the vain hope
of attaining that, which, when attained, he will be
insensible to, and incapable of enjoying! The world
is mad, since wisdom itself is madness.”

“The world is mad! the world is mad!” shouted
forth his auditors, and the exclamation was re-echoed
from different parts of the yard.

“Behold that young mother, watching by the
cradle that contains her infant child. It is midnight,
and not a soul is near her. She bends over
him, gazes on his dimpled cheeks, and kisses his
ruby lips, while tears of anguish flow from her eyes,
languid for want of sleep. It is midnight, and her
head has not yet reposed upon her pillow. She has
trimmed the lamp to guide the stray one to his home,
but it is useless, for the morning sun will rise before
he leaves the scene of his heartless debauchery. And
yet she clings with the fervency of pure affection to
him who has deserted her and her little babe, who
has trodden on her heart, and leaves her to want,
suffering, and shame. It is written, `If thine eye
offend thee, pluck it out,' and though he is dearer
to her than her eyes, why tamper with a diseased
member, that is incurable, and, if not lopped off,
must bring her to an untimely grave. The scene is
changed.—Behold her now. She is still alone in
her chamber. Her face is bent down to her lap and
buried in her hands. She is still weeping. What
is it that lies stretched on the bed beside her? It is
the bud of beauty that lately she sprinkled with her
tears, now as pale as the lily of the valley, and as
senseless as the clod of the valley too. Weep not,
thou stricken one, for no refreshing shower will call
the blossom forth again. It is dead, and she mourns
her loss in the bitterness of soul—but wherefore
should she weep? The child has gone to bliss; it

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would have been reared in misery and shame; it has
died unspotted and in innocence, and yet she mourns
that it was not reserved for a life of pollution and a
death of guilt. She is mad, for rather should her
lips pour forth the song of rejoicing that the innocent
has been removed, before it entered upon the
guilty path of its father, or tasted of the bitter cup
that its mother had quaffed to the very dregs. But
say that fortune had strewed its path with flowers,
its course had been as unruffled as the sunny stream,
that seeks the waste of waters, and its death, the
death of the righteous. What then? Is there any
enjoyment in life to compensate for the misery even
the most prosperous are doomed to endure; any
knowledge that will repay for a knowledge of the
human race!—Blessed are ye who die in ignorance
of your fellow mortals, since the good that flows
from the purer sources of the human heart is but as
a drop, compared with the streams poured forth by
the corrupted fountains; and ye who are saved from
this knowledge are as the husbandman who enjoys
the harvest without having toiled in the sun. And
yet they who have escaped from a scene of selfishness
and ingratitude, who are removed from a state
of persecution and suffering, whose spirits return to
His presence as pure and unspotted as when he
formed them, are mourned as though they had lost
instead of having gained a world. The world is
mad! the world is mad!” The preacher ceased, and
his auditors shouted forth his last words. They
were re-echoed from distant parts of the yard; and
even in the cells, amid the clanking of chains, might
be heard the exclamation, “The world is mad! the
world is mad!” I hurried away, glad to escape
from the wild scene to the bustle of society; a change
from one scene of madness to another. I have since
often reflected on the words of the maniac, and am
more than half inclined to believe that I heard the
plain truth spoken within the walls of bedlam.

p375-149 THE SEA VOYAGE.

“Messmates hear a brother sailor
Sing the dangers of the sea.”

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Early in the autumn of 1820, I sailed from the
port of Philadelphia for Havre, in a French merchantman,
commanded by a little native of Gascony,
who had studied philosophy, not in the calm
and shady groves of the academy, but in a world of
turmoil and trouble. The ancients may boast of
the patience and fortitude of Socrates, in the hour
of death, and prate about the abstinence of Diogenes
in his tub; but to my mind, he who patiently lives
on through scenes of trial and suffering, exhibits
more philosophy by half than he who laughs at the
terrors of death, or flies from the world, prostrates
the dignity of his nature, and confines his ambition
within the narrow compass of a tub. The little
Gascon called himself a philosopher, and boasted of
having read the ethics of Seneca for the fiftieth time;
but that philosophy which is acquired by having the
sensibilities blunted with continued buffetting, does
not maintain such absolute dominion over the mind,
but that it may be shaken from its purpose. So it
was with the little captain, who would storm like a
Hector at the sailors, and expatiate on the blessings
of forbearance in the same breath.

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