Transcriber's Note

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of changes isfound at the end of the book. Oe ligatures have been expanded. 

The original text used both number and symbol footnotes. This usage hasbeen maintained in this version. 

[Illustration: PROSPERO AND MIRANDA_The Tempest_]

 Journeys Through Bookland

 A NEW AND ORIGINAL PLAN FOR READING APPLIED TO THE WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE FOR CHILDREN

 _BY_ CHARLES H. SYLVESTER _Author of English and American Literature_

 VOLUME EIGHT _New Edition_

 [Illustration]

 Chicago BELLOWS-REEVE COMPANY PUBLISHERS

 Copyright, 1922 BELLOWS-REEVE COMPANY

 CONTENTS

 PAGE RINGROSE AND HIS BUCCANEERS 1 DAVID CROCKETT 29 DAVID CROCKETT IN THE CREEK WAR 37 AMERICA _Samuel Francis Smith_ 60 THE RETREAT OF CORTÉS _William H. Prescott_ 63 BATTLE OF IVRY _Thomas Babington Macaulay_ 76 THE BATTLE OF THERMOPYLAE 81 MARCO BOZZARIS _Fitz-Greene Halleck_ 90 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM _Edgar Allan Poe_ 95 PÈRE MARQUETTE _Jared Sparks_ 121 THE FALL OF THE ALAMO 141 THE ALHAMBRA _Washington Irving_ 153 HERVÉ RIEL _Robert Browning_ 168 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO _Lord Byron_ 176 HOW THEY TOOK THE GOLD-TRAIN _Charles Kingsley_ 180 A BED OF NETTLES _Grant Allen_ 209 WASHINGTON IRVING 216 THE KNICKERBOCKER HISTORY OF NEW YORK _Washington Irving_ 224 THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR _Robert Southey_ 284 CASABIANCA _Felicia Hemans_ 313 THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_ 315 THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT _Robert Burns_ 319 CHARLES AND MARY LAMB 328 DREAM CHILDREN: A REVERY _Charles Lamb_ 335 READING SHAKESPEARE 346 THE TEMPEST, A TALE FROM SHAKESPEARE _Charles and Mary Lamb_ 348 THE TEMPEST _William Shakespeare_ 364 STUDIES FOR _The Tempest_ 468

 PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES 489

For Classification of Selections, see General Index, at end of Volume X

ILLUSTRATIONS

 PAGE PROSPERO AND MIRANDA (Color Plate) _Arthur Henderson_ FRONTISPIECE WE ROWED AWAY DOWN THE RIVER _Herbert N. Rudeen_ 3 A BATTLE AT LONG RANGE COMMENCED _Herbert N. Rudeen_ 21 A CROSS WITH SEVERAL LETTERS BESIDE IT _Herbert N. Rudeen_ 25 I SAID FAREWELL TO MY WIFE AND CHILDREN _R. F. Babcock_ 39 I FOUND A DEER THAT HAD JUST BEEN KILLED _R. F. Babcock_ 45 PILOTED BY FRIENDLY INDIANS (Color Plate) _R. F. Babcock_ 48 THE ATTACK ON THE FORT _R. F. Babcock_ 55 BATTLE ON THE CAUSEWAY _Louis Grell_ 69 THEY DRAGGED THEIR FEEBLE LIMBS WITH DIFFICULTY _Louis Grell_ 74 "CHARGE FOR THE GOLDEN LILIES NOW" _Louis Grell_ 79 THEIR LAST ENCOUNTER _Herbert N. Rudeen_ 89 THE TURK AWOKE _Iris Weddell White_ 92 THE GIFT OF THE CALUMET _R. F. Babcock_ 129 AT THE PORTAGE _R. F. Babcock_ 137 ON THE MISSISSIPPI (Color Plate) _R. F. Babcock_ 138 THE MEXICANS STORM THE FORT _Louis Grell_ 146 THE DEFENDERS FIRING FROM WINDOWS _Louis Grell_ 148 COLONEL BOWIE USED HIS WEAPONS TO THE LAST _Louis Grell_ 150 THE GATE OF JUSTICE _G. H. Mitchell_ 154 THE COURT OF LIONS _G. H. Mitchell_ 157 THE HALL OF ABENCERRAGES _G. H. Mitchell_ 160 THEY FOLLOW IN A FLOCK _Louis Grell_ 172 BUT HARK! _Iris Weddell White_ 177 "DO NOT SHOOT TILL I DO" _Louis Grell_ 188 SOLEMNLY HE APPROACHED, STAFF IN HAND _Louis Grell_ 197 WASHINGTON IRVING (Halftone) 216 HERE THEY REFRESHED THEMSELVES _Arthur Henderson_ 238 HE WAS INTERRUPTED BY WANDLE SCHOONHOVEN _Arthur Henderson_ 252 WILLIAM THE TESTY _Arthur Henderson_ 265 THE TESTY WILLIAM ISSUED FORTH LIKE A WRATHFUL SPIDER _Arthur Henderson_ 267 THERE CAME ON THE INTREPID PETER (Color Plate) _Arthur Henderson_ 274 "I SHALL YET HAVE TO BEAT THEM!" _Herbert N. Rudeen_ 286 AN INCESSANT FIRE WAS KEPT UP BY THE "VICTORY" _Herbert N. Hedden_ 303 HE FELL UPON HIS FACE _Herbert N. Rudeen_ 305 AN OLD QUARTERMASTER HAD SEEN HIM FIRE _Herbert N. Rudeen_ 309 LITTLE ELLIE SITS ALONE (Color Plate) _Arthur Henderson_ 316 TH' EXPECTANT WEE-THINGS _Herbert N. Rudeen_ 321 ROUND THE INGLE _Herbert N. Rudeen_ 325 CHARLES LAMB (Halftone) 328 ROAMING ABOUT THAT HUGE MANSION _Herbert N. Rudeen_ 339 HE WOULD MOUNT A METTLESOME HORSE _Herbert N. Rudeen_ 341 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (Halftone) 346 FERDINAND LEAPED _Iris Weddell White_ 353 TELL YOUR PITEOUS HEART _Iris Weddell White_ 371 ANTONIO AND SEBASTIAN PLOTTING _Iris Weddell White_ 403 PRAY YOU WORK NOT SO HARD _Iris Weddell White_ 421 CERES ENTERS, AT IRIS' CALL _Iris Weddell White_ 439 STEPHANO AND TRINCULO QUARREL _Iris Weddell White_ 448 WHERE THE BEE SUCKS, THERE SUCK I _Iris Weddell White_ 455 LOOK DOWN, YOU GODS, ON THIS COUPLE _Iris Weddell White_ 461

RINGROSE AND HIS BUCCANEERS[1-1]

Just two days after we took possession of the town of Santa Maria, wedeparted thence on Saturday, April 17th, 1680. We all embarked inthirty-five canoes, which we had taken while lying at anchor at thefront of the town. Thus we sailed, or rather rowed, down the river inquest of the South Sea upon which Panama is seated. Our prisoners, theSpaniards, begged very earnestly that they might be permitted to go withus and not be left to the mercy of the Indians, who would show them nofavor and whose cruelty they so much feared, but we had such difficultyin finding boats for ourselves that we could assist them little. However, they found soon after either logs or old canoes, so that theywere able to come along with us. 

It was my misfortune to have a canoe which was very heavy andconsequently sluggish. Because of this we were left behind the rest alittle way, there being only four men beside myself in the boat. As thetide fell it left several shoals of sand naked, and hence we, notknowing the location of the channel amongst such a variety of streams, steered for over two miles into a shoal where we were forced to lie byuntil high water came. As soon as the tide began to turn, we rowed away, but in spite of all our endeavors, we could neither find nor overtakeour companions. At ten o'clock, when the tide became low, we stuck anoar in the sands and by turns slept in our canoe, where we were piercedto the skin by the showers that fell in the night. 

The next morning, as soon as the day had come, we rowed away down theriver in pursuit of our people, and after going about two leagues wewere so fortunate as to overtake them at an Indian landing place, wherethey had been taking in water. They told us that we would not find wateragain for six days, and that we must without fail fill our jars. Although we made what haste we could, by the time our jars were filledour friends had all departed and were already out of sight. Such is thenature of the pirates; they care not in the least whom they lose orleave behind. 

We rowed after them as fast as we possibly could, but all in vain, forhere in the mouth of the river the islands were so numerous that it wasvery easy for us to lose them a second time. After much trouble and toilwe did at last find the mouth of the river, but here the tide was againcoming in, so that though we were within a stone's throw from the mouthof the river, we could not go through it, but were forced to put ashoreand wait for better water. Accordingly we hauled our canoe close by thebushes and fastened it to a tree which the tide had almost covered. 

[Illustration: WE ROWED AWAY DOWN THE RIVER IN PURSUIT]

As soon as the tide began to turn, we rowed away again, crossing theGulf of Miguel. Here we had a very hard time fighting the waves, whichdashed against our canoe and might easily have filled and overwhelmedit, for the boat was nearly twenty feet long and not over one and a halfbroad where it was widest. At dark we landed on an island where we hadthe most sorrowful resting place I ever experienced in my whole life. Itrained impetuously all night long, in so much that we were wet from headto foot and had not one dry thread about us; and so violent was therain that we could not keep any fire going to warm or dry ourselves. Notone minute's sleep did we get during the whole night, and our plight wasindeed an awful one, remote from our companions and wholly destitute ofall human comfort. As morning broke, our plight was little relieved, fora vast sea surrounded us on one side, and on the other we could seenothing but high mountains and rocks. Our boat was but an eggshell, andwe had few clothes to defend us from the weather. In fact, not one of usat that time had a shoe to his foot. 

Wet and cold as we were, however, we put forth to sea and rowed away, passing several islands. In the open sea the smallness of our vessel putus again in deadly peril, and it always required one man and sometimestwo to bail out the water that came over the sides of the boat. When wehad struggled for some time with these difficulties, and when we werenear one of the smaller islands, a huge wave overturned our boat and wewere all forced to swim for our lives, but did manage to get to shore, where soon our canoe was thrown after us. All our bread and fresh waterwere spoiled, but as our guns were lashed to the boat and were kept inwaxed cases, we lost none of them. Our first business was to take themout and clean them. 

Scarcely had this been done when we saw another boat suffering from thesame misfortune at a little distance from us. The persons thus castashore proved to be six Spaniards from the garrison at Santa Maria whohad followed us to escape the Indians. Presently they joined us, and webuilt a fire, broiled our meat on the coals, and all ate amicablytogether. We were suffering terribly for water, as we had none to drinkand knew not where to get any. Fortunately our canoe was thrown on edgeand very little injured, but the one on which the Spaniards came splititself against the rocks, being old and slender, and was broken into ahundred pieces. 

My company was now much discouraged and wished to return, but after muchpersuasion I induced them to go forward at least one day longer, sayingI would then be willing to do whatever they saw fit. About the time theyconcluded to follow me, our watchman espied an Indian, who as soon as heknew he had been seen, ran hastily to the woods. Immediately I sent twoof my companions after him. Finding he was one of our friendly Indians, they followed him along the shore to where seven more of his companionswith a great canoe were resting on the seashore. By means of signs Iasked him what had become of my companions, and the Indians assured usthat if we would take their boat instead of our own, we would overtakeour friends before morning. 

We were rejoicing over this news when the Indians noticed that six ofthe men of our company did not seem to be of the same language and kindas ourselves. We told them they were _Wankers_, which is the name theIndians commonly give to the Spaniards. Their next question was, "May wekill those Spaniards?" I answered them, "By no means; I will not consentto have it done. " To this the Indians seemed to consent, but after alittle while, when my back was turned, some of my company, thinking tooblige the Indians, beckoned to them to kill the Spaniards. Perceivingtheir danger, the Spaniards made a great outcry, which I heard, and Iturned around in time to save their lives. Although I was able toaccomplish this, I could not prevent them, however, from taking one ofthe Spaniards as a slave. To the others, however, I gave the canoe inwhich I came and bade them to get away as speedily as possible in orderto save their lives from the Indians. 

Then joining company with the Indians we entered a very large canoe, which was able to carry at least twenty men more easily than our canoecould carry five. Moreover the Indians had also fitted a good sail tothe canoe, so that, having a fresh breeze, we set sail and moved rapidlyaway, to the infinite joy and comfort of our hearts. In one place we raninto a heavy sea, which was caused by a strong current and the heavywinds, and many times our boat was filled with spray. Again at night itrained heavily for several hours and was very dark. 

About nine o'clock we discovered two fires on the shore of the mainland. The Indians began to shout and to cry out joyously that these fires weremade by their companions. Accordingly we made for the shore as fast aswe could drive, but as soon as we had reached it about sixty Spaniards, armed with clubs and other arms, rushed out into the breakers, laid holdof our canoe on both sides and pulled it out of the water. Thus were weall taken and made prisoners. I laid hold of my gun, thinking to defendmyself, but it was all in vain, for four or five of them stopped andoverpowered me. The Indians leaped overboard and got away very nimblyinto the woods, though my companions were too much amazed to make anyattempt to escape. 

Our captors could speak neither French nor English, but I was able totalk, in Latin, with one of them who seemed more intelligent than therest, and from him I learned that these were Spaniards who had been putashore by our other boats for fear that some of them might escape andwarn Panama that we were on our way to capture it. For this reason theSpaniards were much rejoiced at taking us, and they designed to treat usvery severely for plundering their town of Santa Maria. 

But even while the Spaniard was talking to me, there came in a poorwretch that I had saved from the Indians. When he reported how kindly Ihad treated him and the rest of his companions, the captain rose fromhis seat and embraced me, saying, "You Englishmen are very friendlyenemies and good people, but the Indians are rogues and a treacherousnation. Come and sit by me and eat of the victuals which your companionsleft us when they turned from shore. " For the kindness I had shown theircountrymen, the Spaniards agreed to give us our lives and liberty, butit was only after long persuasion that I could induce them to spare thelives of the Indians. However, I accomplished this and was bidden totake my canoe and go in God's name, with the wish that we might be asfortunate as we had been generous. 

Having found the Indians, we took our departure soon after, although theSpaniards invited us to stay with them longer. All that night it rainedvery hard and we found no place where we could land. About ten o'clockthe next morning, however, after a night of rowing and paddling, weespied a canoe coming toward us at great speed. The men in it proved tobe of our old English company, who supposed us to be Spaniards and werecoming to attack us. They had given me and my companions up for lost, but now we were all mutually rejoiced, and were soon reunited on theshore of a deep bay which lay concealed behind a point of rocks. 

On the morning of the second day after, that is, on the twenty-third ofApril, the day sacred to Saint George, our patron of England, we camebefore sunrise within view of the city of Panama, which makes a pleasantshow to vessels that are at sea. At that time there lay at anchor nearthe Island of Perico, which is distant about two leagues from Panama, five great ships and three smaller men-of-war called _The Little Fleet_. The latter, it appeared, had been suddenly manned with a design to fightus and prevent us from making any further attempts upon the city orseacoast. 

Accordingly, as soon as they spied us, they instantly weighed anchor andcame directly to meet us. Two of our boats were very heavy and could notrow as fast as the canoes, and accordingly we were already far inadvance. There were five canoes in this company, and among them onlythirty-six men in a very unfit condition to fight, being tired and wornwith so much rowing. The enemy sailed toward us directly before thewind, and we feared greatly lest they should run us down. So we rowedstraight up into the "wind's eye, " as the sailors say, and got close towindward of them. While we were doing this, other of our boats in whichwere thirty-two more men overtook us, so that altogether we weresixty-eight men engaged in the fight that day. 

In the three vessels of the Little Fleet that opposed us were altogethertwo hundred and seventy-eight men, of whom more than two hundred werenative Spaniards, the rest being Indians or Mulattoes. The commanders ofthese ships had issued orders that no quarter was to be given to any ofthe buccaneers. But such bloody commands as these seldom or neverprosper. 

The canoe of Captain Sawkins and that wherein I was were much to theleeward of the rest. The third of the Spanish ships came between us twoand fired on me to the windward and on Captain Sawkins to the leeward, wounding with these broadsides four men in the Captain's canoe and onein mine. Nevertheless, he paid so dear for his passage between us thathe was not very quick in coming about again and trying it a second time;for with our first volley we killed several of his men upon the decks. Thus we got to the windward of the enemy as our other canoes had alreadydone. At this moment the Admiral of the Little Fleet came up with ussuddenly, scarcely giving us time to charge, and thinking to pass by uswith as little damage as the first of his ships had received, or evenless. But it fell out much worse for him, for we were so fortunate as tokill the man at the helm, so that his ship ran into the wind and hersails lay "a-back" as the mariners say. This gave us time to come upunder the stern of his vessel, and firing continually into the vessel wekilled as many as came to the helm, and cut in two his mainsail andbrace. 

At this time the third Spanish vessel was seen coming up to the aid ofthe Admiral's ship. Captain Sawkins left the latter to our four canoesand rowed away to meet the oncoming Spaniards. The dispute or fightbetween them was very hot, as they lay close together, and fought fromone side of the deck to the other, both giving and receiving death asfast as they could charge. Meanwhile the first ship tacked about andcame up to relieve the Admiral. We determined to prevent this design, and two of our canoes, Captain Springer's and my own, stood out to meetthe new arrival, who made direct upon the Admiral, who stood upon thequarter-deck waving at him with a handkerchief what to do. But we methim in the middle of his way, and came so close to him that if he hadnot turned his course, we should have been on board him. As it was, wekilled so many of his crew that the vessel had scarcely men enough leftalive and unwounded to carry her off. Fortunately for them, the windsprang up fresh, and they were able to sail away and save their lives. 

Having put to flight the vessel which was to relieve the Admiral, weturned about and with a loud halloo joined our friends in the otherboat, and came so close under the stern of the Admiral's ship that wewedged up the rudder and at the same time killed both the Admiral andthe chief pilot. Seeing how disabled their ship was, and disheartened bythe slaughter, for at least two-thirds of their men had been killed andmany others wounded, they cried for quarter, which had several timesbeen offered them, but had been always stoutly denied. So we tookpossession of the Admiral's ship and put on board all our wounded men, including Captain Harris, who had been shot through both his legs. Assoon as this was done, we instantly sent some of our ships to go and aidCaptain Sawkins, who had been fighting against the second Spanish ship. Indeed, to give our enemies their due, no men in the world ever foughtmore bravely than these same Spaniards. 

Coming up close under the Spaniard's side, we gave him a full volley ofshot and expected to have a like return from him, but of a sudden we sawhis men that were abaft the mast, blown up in the air, some of themfalling into the deck and others into the sea. This disaster was nosooner seen by their valiant Captain than he leaped overboard, and inspite of all our shot succeeded in rescuing some of his men, although hewas much burned in both his hands himself. But while he was rescuingthese men to reinforce the ship and renew the fight, another jar ofpowder took fire and blew up several others upon the forecastle. 

Under cover of the smoke from these explosions. Captain Sawkins led hismen on board and took the ship. Soon after I went on board myself, andindeed, such a miserable sight I never saw in my life. For not one manwas to be found but was either killed, desperately wounded or horriblyburned with powder, in so much that their black skins were turned whitein several places where the powder had torn it from their flesh andbones. 

Having compassionated their misery, I afterwards went on board theAdmiral's ship, and here what I saw did much astonish me, and wouldscarcely be believed by others than ourselves who saw it. There werefound on this ship only twenty-five men alive, where before the fightthere were four-score and six. And out of these twenty-five men, onlyeight were able to bear arms, all the rest being desperately wounded, and by their wounds totally unable to make any resistance. Their bloodran down the decks in whole streams, and scarcely one place in the shipwas free from blood. 

Having once possessed ourselves of two vessels of the little fleet, Captain Sawkins asked the prisoners how many men there were on thelargest ship that we could see lying in the harbor of Perico, and alsohow many were upon the smaller ships. Peralta, the heroic captain of thesecond vessel, tried to dissuade Sawkins from attacking the Spanishvessels at anchor, saying in the biggest one alone there were threehundred and fifty men, and that all the other vessels would be found toowell provided for defense against the small number of the buccaneers. One of the Spaniards, however, who lay dying on the deck, told CaptainSawkins that there was not a single man on board any one of the greatships in the harbor, for they had all been drawn away to fight on theships of the Little Fleet. Believing the dying man's story, we sailedinto the harbor and went on board the ships, finding, as we had beentold, not one person there. They had set on fire the biggest ship andmade a hole in her hull, but we put out the flames and stopped the leak. All our wounded were then placed on this ship, which for a time becameour hospital. 

Having counted up our own loss and damages, we found eighteen of our menkilled and twenty-two wounded. 

The three captains against whom we fought were esteemed by the Spaniardsas the bravest in the South Seas, nor was this reputation undeserved bythem, as may easily be seen from the story of this bloody battle. Webegan the fight about a half hour after sunrise, and by noon hadfinished the battle. While Captain Peralta was our prisoner, he wouldoften break out and say: "Surely you Englishmen are the valiantest inthe whole world, and always design to fight in the open; while all othernations have invented all kinds of ways to barricade themselves andfight as close as possible"; and yet notwithstanding, we killed more ofthe enemy than they have of us. 

The journal of Basil Ringrose is a very interesting document, and weshould enjoy following it to the end if we had the space and if it werenot for the fact that he devotes so much space to information that isvaluable chiefly to a sailor. Accordingly it seems best to give a briefsummary of his journal in our own words:

Captain Peter Harris, whom Ringrose calls "a brave and stout soldier anda valiant Englishman, born in the county of Kent, " died of his wounds, and they buried him with the usual honors of war--a volley from alltheir guns. 

The buccaneers captured the five ships that lay near the Island ofPerico and divided the spoils among themselves. Within the next two orthree days, however, dissensions arose among them, and Captain Coxon, taking with him a large number of men together with most of the Indianallies, deserted the expedition and returned. During this time CaptainSharp was absent, and after the departure of Coxon, Captain Sawkins waschosen to command. For some weeks the buccaneers remained in the Bay ofPanama, capturing vessels and ravaging the adjacent islands. 

While they were at Taboga, the governor of Panama sent a message toCaptain Sawkins inquiring why he came to this locality. Captain Sawkinsreplied, "We came to assist the Indian King of Darien, who is the truelord of Panama and all the country round about. Since we came so far, there seems to be no reason why we should not have some satisfaction. Accordingly, if you will send us five hundred pieces of eight for eachman and a thousand for each commander and will promise no longer toannoy the Indians or deprive them of their liberty, we will go awaypeaceably: otherwise, we will stay here, get what we can and cause allthe damage possible to you. "

In answer to this, the governor inquired by messenger--"From whom do youhave your commission and to whom shall I complain for the damages whichyou have already done?"

The reply of Captain Sawkins to this message was prompt and decisive, for he said, "All my company have not yet arrived, but as soon as theycome, we will visit you at Panama and bring our commissions on themuzzles of our guns, at which time you may read them as plain as theflame of gunpowder can make them. "

On the 22nd of May, Captains Sawkins and Sharp took with them aboutsixty men and attacked the town of Pueblo Nueva. The buccaneers foundthat the inhabitants of this town were well prepared for the defense. They had cut down great trees and laid them across the narrow riverwhich led to their town in such a way as to prevent the ascent of anyboats. 

Sawkins and his followers landed at the mouth of the river and madetheir way by land until they reached some heavy breastworks which hadbeen thrown up by the Spaniards. With undaunted courage, Sawkins stormedthe defenses, and was killed at the head of his men. His loss was a sadone to the pirates, because they regarded him as their most valiantleader, and because, next to Captain Sharp, he was best beloved by them. In fact, his loss meant the desertion of a number more of thebuccaneers, who left their companions and returned over land, as CaptainCoxon and his officers had done. 

Thus all the adventurers who wished to remain in the South Seas andstill further ravage the coast of South America, elected Captain Sharpcommander-in-chief, and vowed themselves to be faithful to him in allthings. A large number, however, of the pirates deserted, preferring thedangers of land travel in the rainy season to continued adventure in theSouth Seas. 

Basil Ringrose was among those who were tired of the expedition andwished to return home, but he finally decided to remain with CaptainSharp because of the great difficulties he foresaw in returning by theshorter way. 

It was the last day of May when the mutineers departed, and it was onthe sixth of June, a dark and rainy day, that they set sail on the longand adventurous voyage. Almost from the start they met with mostvexatious delays which gave an opportunity for the Spanish on shore tosend ahead news of their coming. In consequence of this, they werealmost everywhere expected, and most of the towns which were unable todefend themselves succeeded in concealing their wealth, provisions andsupplies so that the buccaneers were unable to seize treasures of anygreat value. As a whole, the voyage was a disappointment, but from timeto time the adventurers succeeded in taking sufficient food andoccasionally gold and silver in such quantities that the voyage wassomewhat profitable to those who survived. 

The journal of Ringrose is full of interesting little details, whichshow how exciting the trip must have been, and how great were the perilsand privations of its followers. 

In one place we find them anchored for four or five days, trying to drytheir sails so that they could be able to take them down and repair thehull of their ship, yet all the time the rain fell in such torrents thatthey were unable to work. At another place he tells of killing a snakewhich was fourteen inches in circumference and eleven feet in length. Onthis part of the coast they saw every day whales and grampuses, whichoften came and dived under the ship, and although the men fired at themseveral times, the bullets rebounded from their tough skins. At thisplace, too, the best food consisted of Indian conies, snakes, oysters, periwinkles, a few small turtles and a variety of small fish. 

Again, we find some of the most valuable of the men dying from malignantfevers, and all suffering from want of provisions. For a long time theyhad nothing but flour and water, and then again they were able to revelin small particles of meat, with a good supply of sugar which they tookfrom some of the mills along the coast. Now and then they seized a flockof goats, and then for days the feasting was continuous, while thesurplus flesh was salted and stored away for future use. 

On the 24th of August they discovered a vessel some distance from them, and because of the darkness, ran very close to it before they werediscovered. When they were within hail, they called in Spanish to theship and commanded it to lower its sails. "Not we, " replied theSpaniards; "we will soon make you lower your own. " The piratesimmediately fired upon them, and they responded at a lively rate fromtheir own guns. For half an hour or more the fight was very brisk, andundoubtedly would have lasted much longer had not the buccaneers beenfortunate enough to kill the man at the helm, after which no one of theSpaniards dared to take his place, and the ship drifted aimlessly. Aboutthe same time another lucky shot tore off the mainsail, and seeing theirhelpless condition, the Spaniards begged for quarter and gave up theirship. Afterwards they declared that they fought the pirates only out ofbravado, for they had agreed on a wager before they left shore to do soin case they met with Captain Sharp. Although the fight was short, thepirates themselves had suffered considerable damage to their ship, andseveral of their men were sadly wounded. 

The captain of the captured vessel gave the buccaneers a great deal ofinformation as to what had happened after they left Panama, and also asto the preparations which were being made to defend the towns againstthe adventurers, and to capture the vessel if possible whenever itappeared. 

At Tumbes they heard that this was the first settlement made by theSpanish after Panama, and that at the time of the settlement a priestwent ashore with a cross in his hand, while ten thousand Indiansgathered on the hillsides and stood watching him. As he landed, twolions came out of the woods toward him, but when he laid the crossgently over their backs, they fell down and worshiped him; moreover, twotigers following did the same thing. The Indians seeing these wonderfulthings recognized the power of the Christian religion and at onceembraced it. 

By the end of October they were near the Fort of Hilo on the coast ofPeru, far south of the equator. Here at night they anchored about twomiles from the village, while they sent four canoes with fifty men inthem to seize and plunder the town. In the morning they discovered bythe flags which the men had put out, that the town was in the hands ofthe English. Accordingly, all the men that could be spared from the shiplanded and learned that the enemy had been put to flight after a fewvolleys had been exchanged. In the town they secured great quantities ofpitch and tar, besides oil, wine, flour and several other kinds ofprovisions. Most of the Spaniards had fled to the hills, and the pirateswere afraid that at any moment they might be attacked. About sixty menwere sent out to search the valley and the country round about the town. The whole region was found to be very pleasing, thickly set with grovesof figs, olives, oranges, lemons and other fruits. About four miles upthe valley appeared a great sugar factory, where sugar, oil and molasseswere found in abundance. The mill was deserted, and the pirates wereunable to capture any of the inhabitants, though from time to time theSpaniards were seen marching along the hilltops whence they tumbled downgreat stones and fired at random among the buccaneers. 

At the sugar factory, under a flag of truce, the Spaniards promised todeliver eighty beef cattle at the port the next day by noon as a ransomfor the building. Captain Sharp accordingly sent word that no violencewas to be offered to those who brought the beeves down to the ship. 

The next morning, the Spaniards, bearing a flag of truce, came toCaptain Sharp and told him that sixteen of the cattle were already atthe port, and the rest would be there the next morning. Accordingly, theraiders began their retreat to the sea, expecting to re-embark on theship. Ringrose thought that at least twenty men should be left behind atthe sugar house for a lookout to keep watch of the Spaniards, but he wasoverruled on this and all went on to the port, where, however, no cattlewere found, nor was there evidence that any effort had been made tobring them. The next morning Captain Sharp went again to the hills andmet the Spaniards, who promised that the cattle would certainly be thereby night, and accordingly it was decided to wait one day more. The nextmorning the experience was repeated, but that day passed without any ofthe beeves appearing, and on the following morning the pirates marchedto the village and burned not only the sugar mill but all of thebuildings round about, breaking the machinery and destroying all of theoil and other provisions which they could not carry away. 

This done, they returned to the port by a new route over the mountains, and in doing so escaped an ambuscade which would inevitably havedestroyed them all. As it was, they reached the shore only to find morethan three hundred cavalrymen charging upon them from the north. Asquickly as possible the buccaneers threw themselves into a posture ofdefense and charged to meet the advancing horsemen. The horsemenretreated as the pirates advanced, with the intention of leading thelatter away from the village and the rocks near the port. Detecting thestratagem, the pirates returned to the port, and a battle at long rangecommenced, which lasted the entire day. Meanwhile the Spaniards had beenreceiving continuous reinforcements, and appeared in numbers on thehills on all sides, so that the pirates, fearing they would beoverpowered by force of numbers, resolved that night to escape and sailaway from the coast which had brought them so much trouble. Nevertheless, they had gathered a great quantity of provisions, whichwere very acceptable under the circumstances. 

[Illustration: A BATTLE AT LONG RANGE COMMENCED]

Early in December the buccaneers had another series of excitingexperiences at the town of La Serena. Here a force was landed and senttoward the city, but it quickly discovered that the inhabitants had beenwarned of the approach of the pirates and were rallying to defendthemselves, led by a troop of a hundred Spanish horse. The advance guardof the buccaneers, however, was able to rout the Spaniards and drivethem from the town. At a short distance away, however, the cavalryrallied, and appeared ready to offer battle in a more favorable place, but the pirates brought up their reinforcements, and when they offeredto attack the Spaniards, the latter fled again. A third time they formedand a third time retreated. This method of fighting they continued untilthe English were drawn far away from the town, which was evidently theplan of the Spaniards, although they lost three of their officers andseveral horses. The buccaneers, abandoning the chase, crossed the greenfields and waded the irrigating streams which enclosed them, findinghere and there a house, but all destitute of both inhabitants andprovisions. The Spaniards had taken good care that little should be leftfor the pirates. Near the town they found fine fruit orchards andgardens, and regaled themselves with strawberries, which are describedas being big as walnuts and very delicious to the taste. In fact, everything about the place pleased them, excepting the fact that most ofthe valuables had been transported and hidden. It appeared, too, thatthe Spaniards, fearing a revolt among their Chilian slaves, had killednearly all of them. Nevertheless a few were found who served as guidesand showed the pirates where much plate and many kinds of valuable goodshad been stored away. 

The buccaneers spent that night in the village, and the next morning theSpaniards came bearing a flag of truce and offered to treat with theirconquerors. The buccaneers finally agreed to depart, providing a ransomof ninety-five thousand pieces of eight was paid. This was promised bythe inhabitants, and it was agreed that it should be paid the next day. 

That night an earthquake shook the surrounding country and badlyfrightened the pirates, who were sleeping in one of the largestchurches. Moreover, during the night the Spaniards turned the mountainstreams through the streets of the town, apparently hoping to drive outthe buccaneers, or at least to prevent the burning of the town. 

Until noon the next day the pirates waited for the ransom, but when itdid not appear they were satisfied that the Spaniards had never intendedto pay it, and accordingly the buccaneers burned the town and retreatedto the coast. Here they found that the Spaniards had tried to burn theship by rather an extraordinary stratagem. They took the hide of ahorse, blew it up till it floated like a great bladder, and upon it puta man who paddled himself under the stern of the ship. Here he crammedoakum, brimstone and other combustibles between the rudder and thesternpost, and set the whole on fire. In a few moments the vessel wascovered with smoke, and in the confusion the Spaniard escaped. However, his plot was not successful, for the pirates had the good fortune todiscover the cause of the fire and put it out before any serious damagewas done. 

Three weeks later, the pirates visited the island of Juan Fernandez, where they spent several days and where they celebrated their Christmasholiday by firing three volleys of shot. They found an abundance ofgoats on the island and were able to replenish their larder. The watersupply was excellent, but at one time when Ringrose with nine of hiscompanions in two canoes had landed to fill their jars, a storm came upwhich prevented them from returning to the ship. The wind grew soviolent that the ship itself was forced to sail out into the open sea. About noon, Ringrose and his companions tried to follow the ship, butwere driven back upon the shore by a raging sea. Early in the eveningthey tried a second time, and got some little distance from land, butthe waves were so violent that they were forced to throw overboard alltheir jars of water to lighten their boats. Even then they were unableto reach their ship, but went ashore in the darkness and hauled up theircanoes. They were unable to rest where they landed because of the greatnumbers of noisy seals that troubled them exceedingly. Therefore theywent higher up into the islands, kindled a fire and spent a wet, hungryand uncomfortable night. All about them were the nests and roostingplaces of a multitude of birds, one of which fell down into their fireand was killed. Early the next morning they put to sea again, andfinally found their ship half a league from them at anchor in a baywhich furnished them a better anchorage than any they had previouslydiscovered. More days were spent in taking on water, chopping wood, catching fish and killing goats. Terrible storms struck them, and thedeath of one of their mates made the stay an unhappy one. 

Here they were told the story of a man who was cast upon this island, the only one saved from a large ship, and who lived five years therebefore any one came to carry him off. This was probably AlexanderSelkirk, from whose adventures on the island Defoe wrote his _RobinsonCrusoe_. Ringrose tells us that he on a trip into the island one dayfound cut in the bark of a tree a cross with several letters beside it, and that on the same tree he cut his own name with a cross above it. Onthe twelfth of January, seeing three ships which appeared to bemen-of-war sailing toward them, they hurriedly left the island, abandoning there one of their Indian allies because he could not befound in time. Thus a second Man Friday was deposited upon RobinsonCrusoe's island. 

[Illustration: A CROSS WITH SEVERAL LETTERS BESIDE IT]

While at the island, some of the buccaneers mutinied, deposed CaptainSharp, and chose Watling to be their commander. When they left theisland they went directly to the coast and made a second attempt uponthe town of Arica, but they were beaten off with a great loss of men, among the killed being Captain Watling. After their return to the ship, Sharp was again chosen captain, and remained as such until the end ofthe voyage. 

It seems that about the first of February, Ringrose was taken sick, andthat thereafter he was unable to keep a constant diary, so that ouraccounts of the remainder of the voyage are brief and broken. 

In March, sick and discouraged by the misfortunes they had met, thebuccaneers decided not to continue the voyage, but to land, abandontheir ship and return home across the continent. For one reason andanother, however, they delayed leaving the ship, and continued to worktheir way north until about the middle of April. Forty-seven of the menwho had been discontented all along were then put ashore, while the restof the party decided to remain loyal to Captain Sharp, and to go homearound the southern part of the continent. Before the mutineers were putashore, the ship had come north almost to the equator, so that thejourney of the deserters was materially lessened. Two of the mutineersreached the Isthmus, crossed it and subsequently published some briefaccounts of their experiences. 

Sharp's vessel cruised about in the vicinity of the equator, raidingsmall towns and capturing Spanish vessels, and piling up a large amountof treasure, until the end of August, when the buccaneers turned southwith a determination to make the voyage home as quickly as possible. 

About the twentieth of September they passed the Tropic of Capricorn, and by the middle of October they were almost opposite the Straits ofMagellan. On this voyage they had kept most of the time far away fromthe coast, and had landed only when necessary to re-stock their shipwith water and provisions. 

In the wildest kind of weather they searched the rocky coast, trying tofind the opening into the Strait of Magellan, but were unable to do so. Provisions ran low, and many times they feared actual starvation littleless than destruction by storms and hidden rocks. Most of them weresick, and all were discouraged. At last they abandoned the idea of goingthrough the straits, and sailed south around Tierra del Fuego throughrain and fogs and frost. 

About the middle of November they were able to turn their course to thenorth, and from that time we find them working steadily forward, till, on the twenty-eighth of January, they sighted the island of Barbados. Here they were told that peace was declared between Spain and England, but as they saw one of the British men-of-war lying at anchor, they didnot dare to put into the harbor, fearing they would be seized aspirates, for throughout their whole expedition they had had nocommission. Still they were overjoyed to see some of their countrymenagain and to talk with them, as they did with the mariners on some ofthe small vessels that were putting out from the island. 

They set free at this place a negro who had served them as shoemaker, giving him his liberty because he had worked so faithfully. Besidesthis, they presented Captain Sharp with a mulatto body servant as a markof the respect and admiration they had for his skill in conducting themthrough so many dangerous adventures. Then they divided the last oftheir prize money and started a fund for the celebration of theirreturn. As a nucleus, there were a hundred pieces of eight, prize moneywhich they could not divide satisfactorily. To this they added the priceof a little Spanish dog which they had found on one of their prizes, andwhich they had fed and cared for to the present time. Captain Sharpbought the dog, paying forty pieces of eight for him, with theunderstanding that the money should go into the "jollification fund. "

On the thirtieth of January they sighted the island of Antigua, and senta canoe on shore to get tobacco and find out whether the governor wouldpermit them to come into port. They found everybody excepting thegovernor willing and anxious to see them, but the latter flatly deniedthem entry. Accordingly, the ship was given to those of the pirates whohad lost all their money at play, while the remainder separatedthemselves into two groups and took passage for England. 

Ringrose and thirteen of his companions reached England on thetwenty-sixth of March. There they were tried for piracy in the SouthSeas, at the instigation of the Spanish ambassador, but were notconvicted. On the most serious charge they were released on the plea ofself-defense, as it was claimed that the Spaniards had fired first uponthem. Three of Sharp's crew were tried at Jamaica. One pleaded guiltyand was hanged, but the other two fought their cases in court and werefinally acquitted for lack of evidence. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1-1] This selection is taken from _The Dangerous Voyage and BoldAttempts of Captain Bartholomew Sharp and Others_, written in 1685 byBasil Ringrose, one of the pirates who sailed with Captain Sharp. 

The expedition was organized with a general design to pillage andplunder on the Isthmus of Darien and the continent of South America. Atthe original rendezvous there were seven ships containing four hundredand seventy-seven men under the command of experienced pirate captains. The natural leaders were Captains Coxon, Sawkins and Sharp. At first theexpedition met with comparatively little opposition, and they capturedthe town of Santa Maria, but the plunder was so small here that theywere dissatisfied with what they were doing and decided again to takeand plunder Panama. It is at this point that we take up the narrative ofRingrose. 

Where the account appears in the first person, it is practically as itcame from the pen of Ringrose, though omissions have been made andoccasionally the phraseology has been changed. 

DAVID CROCKETT

Unique among the characters in American history and one of the mostinteresting men of pioneer days was David Crockett, who was born on the17th of August, 1786, in the backwoods district of what has since becomethe State of Tennessee. His father, who was of Irish parentage, duringhis youth lived with his parents in Pennsylvania, but afterwards movedto North Carolina and thence into the Tennessee country. David'sgrandparents were both murdered in their own house by the Creek Indians. At the same time, one uncle of David's was badly wounded, and a second, a younger one, who was deaf and dumb, was captured by the Creeks andkept in captivity for seventeen years, when he was met and recognized byan elder brother, who purchased him from the Indians that held him. Hearing of such atrocities must have affected the young David, andundoubtedly accounts for some of the fierce hatred which thebackwoodsman felt for the Creeks, and the callous way in which he lookedupon their sufferings when later he fought against them with the militiafrom his neighborhood. 

David had five brothers and three sisters; his father was a poor man whotried farming and other pioneer occupations, who built a mill and lostit in a freshet just as it was completed, and who finally established alittle roadhouse or tavern on one of the Tennessee trails. So poor werethey that much schooling was impossible for the children, yet David wassent at the proper time, and applied himself diligently for a few daysto his letters. However, he was so unfortunate as to quarrel with one ofhis older companions who little realized the savage nature of thenewcomer. That night Davy lay in wait for the larger boy and set uponhim so fiercely and beat him so unmercifully that he was soon ready tocry for quarter. On the way home Davy persuaded his brothers to saynothing about the fight, and the next morning instead of going toschool, he ran off into the woods, where he stayed until the childrenreturned at night. He kept this up for several days, fearing to returnto school and take the whipping he knew he must get from his teacher. Inthe end his father heard that he was playing truant, and tried to forcethe boy back to school. Davy refused to go, and when his father tried topunish him, ran away from home and engaged himself to a drover. He wasfifteen years old before he returned to his home, and then he hadchanged so much that his parents did not recognize him, and it was sometime before one of his sisters discovered who he really was. Theyreceived him joyfully, and thereafter, until he reached his majority, heworked faithfully for his father, paying off the latter's indebtednessand assisting the family in every possible way. 

His life during this time was that of a backwoods boy, working hard andfinding his recreation in hunting, fishing and the sports of the border. It was during this time that he acquired the over-powering taste forhunting in the woods, that lasted all his life. During these years, too, he developed that sturdy manhood which carried him through many tryingordeals. Though he never had schooling, and his conversation andwritings were lacking in grammar, yet his speech was full of a sharp, rude wit, and his ideas were characterized by shrewd common sense. 

Davy's motto, adopted early in life, was, "Be sure you are right, thengo ahead, "--words that his own career made famous. 

When the Creek War broke out, Crockett volunteered, and he served assoldier and spy till peace was declared. His experiences there we willlet him tell himself, as he wrote them in his autobiography. (See page37. )

After his return from the Creek War, he was elected to Congress in 1826and in 1828. He was defeated in 1830 and re-elected in 1832. When he wasfirst elected he knew very little about the government, and was totallyignorant of his duties as a member of Congress, but here again his goodcommon sense and bright mind came to his aid; and although he workedunder great disadvantages, yet he won respect and admiration from theother law-makers. He was always a curious and noticeable figure inWashington, both on account of his dress, which was similar to that ofhis backwoods companions, and because of his manner, which was asstrange as his clothes. Such a man could not help being noticed, and ona trip which he made to Philadelphia, New York and Boston, he wasreceived everywhere kindly and added not a little to his fame. 

He was defeated at the close of his third term in Congress, and beingstirred by the exciting news that came from Texas, he left his home inTennessee and went West to join those men who were fighting the Mexicansin an endeavor to make Texas really a free and independent state. 

He kept a journal during this trip, and in it he describes veryentertainingly his companions and their experiences. Among them werethree curious characters: a bee hunter, who was well known through Texasand who left his wife Kate at Nacogdoches; a fierce old man, who hadbeen a pirate and had abandoned the sea for more exciting events onshore; and a quaint gambler, whom Crockett picked up near theMississippi and persuaded to abandon the petty shell game by which hewas getting small sums from the people he met on the way. The real nameof this man Crockett never told, but assigned to him the nickname"Thimblerig. "

We shall tell of the fall of the Alamo in another place (page 141), butCrockett's connection with it is so intimate that we must borrow alittle from his diary. 

We find him writing at San Antonio on the nineteenth of February in highspirits, although he confesses to a shortage of provisions, but hopes tosatisfy his appetite with fighting if in no other way. On thetwenty-third the enemy came in sight, and the little garrison resolvedto defend the Alamo to the last extremity. They made a large nationalflag of thirteen stripes, red and white alternately on a blue ground, with a large white star in the center, and between the points the word"Texas. " When the flag was raised, the bee hunter sang in hiswonderfully mellow voice the following patriotic song, that roused theenthusiasm of his hearers to the highest pitch:

 "Up with your banner, Freedom, The champions cling to thee; They'll follow where'er you lead 'em, To death, or victory;-- Up with your banner, Freedom. Tyrants and slaves are rushing To tread thee in the dust; Their blood will soon be gushing, And stain our knives with rust;-- But not thy banner, Freedom. While stars and stripes are flying, Our blood we'll freely shed; No groan will 'scape the dying, Seeing thee o'er his head;-- Up with your banner, Freedom. "

For the next nine days, Crockett gives an account of their privationsand sufferings, their brave and successful defense, and the markedexecution they were able to make among the Mexicans who showedthemselves within range. On the third of March they had given up allhopes of receiving assistance from without, and had promised to fight tothe last extremity, and in dying kill as many of their foes as possible. 

His entry for the fourth of March is substantially as follows: "Shellshave been falling into the fort like hail during the day, but withouteffect. About dusk this evening we saw a man running toward the fortpursued by about a dozen Mexican cavalry. The bee hunter immediatelyrecognized him as the old pirate who had gone to Goliad for assistance, and calling to two others, the bee hunter sallied out of the fort to therelief of the old man, I following close after. Before we reached himthe Mexicans were close upon his heels. He stopped suddenly, turnedshort upon his pursuers, discharged his rifle, and saw one of hisenemies fall from his horse. After running a short distance again, theold pirate, finding that he would be taken and cut to pieces, turnedfiercely, and to the amazement of the enemy clubbed his gun and dashedamong them like a wounded tiger. By the time we reached him, hispursuers had fled like sparrows, and in the ardour of the moment wefollowed them some distance, not seeing that our retreat was cut off byanother detachment of cavalry. Nothing was to be done but to fight ourway through. We were all of the same mind. They were about twenty innumber and stood their ground while we dashed among them, and for aboutfive minutes a bloody conflict ensued. Then a detachment was seen comingfrom the fort to our relief, and the Mexicans scampered away, leavingeight of their men dead upon the field. We did not escape unscathed, forboth the pirate and the bee hunter were mortally wounded, and I receiveda saber cut across the forehead. 

"The old man died without speaking as soon as we entered the fort. Webore my young friend to his bed, dressed his wounds, and I watchedbeside him. He lay without complaint or manifesting pain, until aboutmidnight, when he spoke. I asked him what he wanted. 'Nothing, ' hereplied with a sigh that seemed to rend his heart, and his eyes filledwith tears as he continued his 'Poor Kate of Nacogdoches; her wordswere prophetic, Colonel, ' Then he sang in a low voice, --

 'But toom' cam' the saddle, all bluidy to see, And hame cam' the steed, but hame never cam' he. '

"He spoke no more, and a few minutes afterward died. Poor Kate, who willtell this to thee?"

The last entry in Crockett's diary bears date March fifth. It is asfollows:

"Pop, pop, pop! Bom, bom, bom! throughout the day. ----No time formemorandums now. ----Go ahead!----Liberty and independence forever!"

Before daybreak the next morning, the final assault was made on theAlamo, and when Santa Ana entered in person, after the terriblebutchery, only six men, among whom was Colonel Crockett, were foundalive. The Colonel stood alone in an angle of the fort, the barrel ofhis broken rifle in his right hand, and in his left a huge Bowie knifedripping blood. Across his forehead was a terrible gash, while aroundhim lay a barrier of dead Mexicans who had fallen at his hands. At hisfeet lay the body of his friend Thimblerig with his knife driven to thehilt in the throat of a Mexican, and his left hand clenched in his hair. 

"General Castrillon was brave and not cruel, and disposed to save theprisoners. He marched them up to that part of the fort where stood SantaAna and his murderous crew. The steady, fearless step and undauntedtread of Colonel Crockett, on this occasion, together with the bolddemeanour of the hardy veteran, had a powerful effect on all present. Nothing daunted, he marched up boldly in front of Santa Ana, and lookedhim sternly in the face, while Castrillon addressed 'hisExcellency, '--'Sir, here are six prisoners I have taken alive; how shallI dispose of them?' Santa Ana looked at Castrillon fiercely, flew into aviolent rage, and replied, 'Have I not told you before how to dispose ofthem? Why do you bring them to me?' At the same time his brave officersplunged their swords into the bosoms of their defenceless prisoners. Colonel Crockett, seeing the act of treachery, instantly sprung like atiger at the ruffian chief, but before he could reach him a dozen swordswere sheathed in his indomitable heart; and he fell, and died without agroan, a frown on his brow, and a smile of scorn and defiance on hislips. Castrillon rushed from the scene, apparently horrorstruck, soughthis quarters, and did not leave them for several days, and hardly spoketo Santa Ana after. "

It is only fair to say that the account which we have quoted above isdenied by some authorities, who say that Crockett was killed before everSanta Ana entered the Alamo. 

[Illustration]

DAVID CROCKETT IN THE CREEK WAR

ABRIDGED FROM HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY

I was living ten miles below Winchester when the Creek warriorscommenced their open hostilities by a most bloody butchery at FortMimms. There had been no war among us for so long that but few who werenot too old to bear arms knew anything about the business. I for one hadoften thought about war and had often heard it described, and I didverily believe in my own mind that I couldn't fight at all; but myafter-experience convinced me that this was all a notion, for when Iheard of the mischief which was done at the fort, I instantly felt likegoing, and I had none of the dread of dying that I expected to feel. 

In a few days a general meeting of the militia was called for thepurpose of raising volunteers; and when the day arrived for thatmeeting, my wife, who had heard me say I meant to go to war, began tobeg me not to turn out. It was mighty hard to go against her arguments, but my countrymen had been murdered, and I knew that the next thingwould be that the Indians would be scalping the women and children allabout there if we didn't put a stop to it. I reasoned the case with heras well as I could, and told her that if every man would wait till hiswife got willing to let him go to war, there would be no fighting doneuntil we would all be killed in our houses; that I was as able to go asany man in the world; and that I believed it was a duty I owed to mycountry. Whether she was satisfied with this reasoning or not, shedidn't tell me; but seeing I was bent on it, all she did was to cry alittle and to turn about to her work. The truth is my dander was up andnothing but war should bring it right again. 

I went to Winchester where a muster was to be. When the men wereparaded, a lawyer by the name of Jones addressed us; informing us hewished to raise a company, and that then the men should meet and electtheir officers. I believe I was about the second or third man thatstepped out; but on marching up and down the regiment a few times wefound we had a large company. 

We volunteered for sixty days, as it was supposed our services would notbe longer needed. A day or two after this we met and elected Mr. Jonesour Captain, and also elected our other officers. We then receivedorders to start on the next Monday week; the time arrived, I took aparting farewell of my wife and two little boys, mounted my horse andset sail to join my company. Expecting only to be gone a short time, Itook no more clothing with me than I supposed would be necessary; sothat if I got into an Indian battle, I might not be pestered with anyunnecessary plunder to prevent my having a fair chance with them. We allmet and went ahead till we passed Huntsville and camped at a largespring called Beaty's Spring. Here we stayed several days, in which timethe troops began to collect from all quarters. At last we musteredabout thirteen hundred strong; all mounted volunteers and all determinedto fight, judging from myself, for I felt wolfish all over. I verilybelieve the whole army was of the real grit. 

[Illustration: I SAID FAREWELL TO MY WIFE AND CHILDREN]

While we remained at the spring, a Major Gibson came and wanted somevolunteers to go with him across the Tennessee River and into the Creeknation to find out the movements of the Indians. He came to my Captainand asked for two of his best woodsmen and such as were best with therifle. The Captain pointed me out to him, and said he would be securitythat I would go as far as the major would himself, or any other man. 

I willingly engaged to go with him, and asked him to let me choose myown mate to go with me, which he said he would let me do. I chose ayoung man by the name of George Russell, son of old Major Russell ofTennessee. I called him out, but Major Gibson said he thought he hadn'tbeard enough to please him--he wanted men, not boys. I must confess Iwas a little wrathy with this, for I know'd George Russell and I know'dthere was no mistake in him and I didn't think that courage ought to bemeasured by the beard; for here a goat would have the preference over aman. I told the major he was on the wrong scent; that Russell could goas far as he could, and I must have him along. He saw I was a littlewrathy and said I had the best chance of knowing, and agreed it shouldbe as I wanted it. 

We took our camp equipage and mounted our horses; and thirteen innumber, including the major, we cut out. We crossed the Tennessee Riverand then traveled about seven miles further, and took up camp for thenight. The next morning, Major Gibson and myself concluded we shouldseparate and take different directions to see what discoveries we couldmake; so he took six of the men and I five. We were to meet that eveningwhere the roads came together, fifteen miles the other side of thehouse of a Cherokee Indian named Dick Brown. 

I and my men then started and went on to the place of meeting, but MajorGibson was not there. We waited till almost dark, but still he didn'tcome. We left the Indian trail a little distance and turning into thehead of a hollow, we struck up camp. We stayed next morning till afterbreakfast; but in vain, for still the major didn't come. 

We started ahead and went about twenty miles to the house of a man bythe name of Radcliff. He was a white man, but had married a Creek woman, and lived just in the edge of a Creek nation. He had two sons, large, likely fellows; and a great deal of potatoes and corn; so we fed ourhorses and got dinner with him. But he was bad scared all the time; hetold us that there had been ten painted warriors at his house only anhour before, and if we were discovered there, they would kill us, andhis family with us. I replied to him, that my business was to hunt forjust such fellows as he had described, and I was determined not to goback until I had done it. 

Our dinner being over we saddled up our horses and made ready to start;but some of my small company I found were disposed to return. I toldthem if we were to go back we should never hear the last of it; and Iwas determined to go ahead. I know'd some of them would go with me andthe rest were afraid to go back by themselves; and so we pushed on tothe camp of some friendly Creeks, which was distant about eight miles. The moon was about at the full, and the night was clear; we thereforehad the benefit of her light from night to morning, and I knew if wewere placed in such danger as to make retreat necessary, we could travelby night as well as in the daytime. It was after dark when we got to thecamp, where we found about forty men, women and children. 

They had bows and arrows, and I turned to shooting with their bows bythe pine light. In this way we amused ourselves very well for a while, but at last a negro, who had been talking to the Indians, came to me andtold me they were very much alarmed, for the _Red Sticks_, as theycalled the war party of the Creeks, would come and find us there; and ifso, we should all be killed. I directed him to tell them that I wouldwatch, and if one would come that night, I should carry the skin of hishead home to make me a moccasin. When he made this communication, theIndians laughed aloud. 

At about ten o'clock that night, we all concluded to try to sleep alittle, but that our horses might be ready for use, we tied them up withtheir saddles on them and put everything in readiness in case in thenight our quarters should get uncomfortable. We laid down with our gunsin our arms, and I had just gotten into a dozing sleep when I heard thesharpest scream that ever escaped the throat of a human creature. It wasmore like a wrathy painter[42-1] than anything else. The negrounderstood, and he sprang to me, for though I heard the noise wellenough, yet I wasn't wide awake enough to get up; so the negro caught meand said the Red Sticks was coming. I arose quickly then and asked whatwas the matter. Our negro talked with the Indian, who had just fetchedthe scream, and learned from him that he had come into camp as a runner, and said that the war party had been crossing the Coosa River all day atthe Ten Islands and was going then to meet Jackson. This news very muchalarmed the friendly Indians, who were in the camp, and they were alloff in ten minutes. 

I felt bound to make this intelligence known as soon as possible to thearmy which we had left; and so we all mounted our horses and put out ina long lope to make our way back to that place. We were about sixty-fivemiles off. We went on to the Cherokee town we had visited on our wayout, having called at Radcliff's, who was off with his family. At thetown we found large fires burning, but not a single Indian was to beseen. They were all gone, and it appeared we must be in great danger. Wetherefore stayed only a short time in the light of the fires about thetown, preferring the light of the moon and the shade of the woods. 

We pushed on till we got again to old Mr. Brown's, which was still aboutthirty miles from where we had left the main army. When we got there, the chickens were just at the first crowing for day. We fed our horses, got a morsel to eat ourselves, and again cut out. 

About ten o'clock in the morning we reached the camp, and I reported toColonel Coffee the news. He didn't seem to mind my report a bit, andthis raised my dander higher than ever; but I know'd I had to be on mybest behavior, and so I kept it all to myself; though I was so mad thatI was burning inside like a tar-kiln, and I wonder that the smokehadn't been pouring out of me at all points. Major Gibson hadn't yetreturned, and we all began to think he was killed. 

The next day, though, the major got in, and brought a worse tale than Ihad, though he stated the same facts as far as I went. This seemed toput our colonel all into a fidget; and it convinced me clearly of one ofthe hateful ways of the world. When I made my report, it wasn't believedbecause I was no officer: I was no great man, but just a poor soldier;but when the same thing was reported by Major Gibson! why, then it wasall as true as preaching, and the Colonel believed it, every word. 

He therefore ordered breastworks to be thrown up nearly a quarter of amile along; and sent an express to General Jackson, requesting him topush on like the very mischief, for fear we should all be cooked up to acracklin before they could get there. "Old Hickory-face" made a forcedmarch on getting the news, and on the next day he and his men got intocamp with their feet all blistered from the effects of their swiftjourney. The volunteers therefore stood guard all together to let themrest. 

About eight hundred of the volunteers, and of that number I was one, were sent on through Huntsville so as to get on the Indians in anotherdirection. After we passed Huntsville, we struck the Tennessee River atMelton's Bluff. The river is here about two miles wide, and has so rougha bottom in many places as to be dangerous. At this place we left someof the horses with their feet held fast in the crevices of the rocks;their riders went on foot. 

[Illustration: FOUND A DEER THAT HAD JUST BEEN KILLED]

We pushed on till we got to what was called the Black Warrior's town, which stood near the very spot where Tuscaloosa now stands. This Indiantown was a large one, but when we arrived we found the Indians had allleft it, scared off no doubt by our arrival. There was a large field ofcorn standing out with a pretty good supply in some cribs. Without delaywe secured the corn as well as a fine quantity of dried beans, whichwere very acceptable to us. Then we burned the town and left the place. 

The next day we were entirely out of meat. I went to Colonel Coffee, whowas then in command of us, and asked his leave to hunt when we marched. He gave me leave, but told me to take mighty good care of myself. Iturned aside to hunt, and had not gone far when I found a deer that hadjust been killed, for his flesh was still warm and smoking. From this Iwas sure that the Indians who had killed it had been gone only a fewminutes, and though I was never much in favor of one hunter stealingfrom another, yet meat was so scarce in camp, I just took up the deer onmy horse before me and carried it on till night. 

I could have sold it for almost any price I would have asked, but thiswasn't my rule either in peace or war. Whenever I had anything and saw afellow-being suffering, I was more anxious to relieve him than tobenefit myself; and this is one of the true secrets of my being a poorman to this day. I gave all my deer away except a small part I kept formyself and just sufficient to make a good supper for my mess. We had tolive mostly on parched corn. 

The next night I told my mess I would again try for some meat; so I tookmy rifle and cut out, but hadn't gone far when I discovered a large gangof hogs. I shot one of them down in his tracks, and the rest brokedirectly toward the camp. In a few minutes the guns began to roar as badas if the whole army had been in an Indian battle, and the hogs tosqueal as bad as the pig did when the devil turned barber. I shoulderedmy hog and went on to camp, and when I got there I found they had killeda good many hogs and a fine fat cow into the bargain. The next morningwe marched on to a Cherokee town and gave the inhabitants an order onUncle Sam for the cow and the hogs we had killed. 

The next day we met the main army and all went on to Radcliff's. Therewe found he had hid all his provisions, and learned that, when I was outas a spy, he had sent a runner to the Indian camp with the news that theRed Sticks were crossing at Ten Islands in order to scare me and my menaway with a false alarm. To make some atonement for this, we took theold scoundrel's two big sons with us, and made them serve through thewar. 

We marched to the Ten Islands on the Coosa River, where we established afort and sent out spy companies. They soon made prisoners of Bob Catalaand his warriors, and in a few days brought news of some Indians in atown about eight miles off. So we mounted our horses, and put out forthat town under the direction of two friendly Creeks. 

When we got near the town, we divided, one of our pilots going with eachdivision. Thus we passed on each side of the town, keeping near to ituntil our lines met at both sides. We then closed up at both ends so asto surround it completely, and sent Captain Hammond to bring on theaffray. When he came near the town, the Indians saw him, raised a yelland came running at him like so many red devils. The main army was nowformed in a hollow square around the town, to which Hammond retreatedtill the Indians came within reach. We then gave them a fire and theyreturned it, after which they ran back into their town, when we began toclose on it. The Indians soon saw they were on our property, and wantedus to take them prisoners. Their squaws and children would run and takehold of us as they could, and give themselves up. I saw seven squaws ata time holding on to the hunting-shirt of one man. We took all prisonersthat came out to us in this way. I saw some warriors, however, run intoa house until I counted forty-six of them. We pursued them until we gotnear the house, when we saw a squaw sitting in the door. She placed herfeet against the bow she had in her hand, took an arrow, raised herfeet, drew with all her might and let the arrow fly at us, killingLieutenant Moore, I believe. His death so enraged us all that she wasfired on, and at least twenty balls were blown through her. This was thefirst man I ever saw killed with a bow and arrow. We now shot them downlike dogs, and then set the house on fire, burning it with the forty-sixwarriors inside. 

I remember seeing an Indian boy, who was shot down near the house. Hisarm and thigh were broken, and he was so near the burning house that hisflesh was fairly cooking. In this situation he was still trying to crawlalong, but not a murmur escaped him, though he was only twelve yearsold. When an Indian's dander is up, he would sooner die than make anoise, or ask for quarter. 

[Illustration: PILOTED BY FRIENDLY INDIANS]

The number that we took prisoners being added to the number we killedamounted to one hundred and eighty-six, while five of our men werekilled. We then returned to our fort, but no provisions had yetreached us, and we had been for some time on half rations. For severaldays we remained there almost starving, as all our beef was gone. Thenwe commenced eating beef hides, and consumed every scrap we could layour hands on, before we received orders for marching. 

We crossed the Coosa River, and when we had come near to Fort Taladega, we met eleven hundred painted warriors, the very choice of the Creeknation, who had shut up the friendly Indians in the fort, and threatenedthat if they did not come out and fight against the whites, they wouldlose their fort, ammunition and provisions. The friendly Indians hadasked three days to consider their answers, and had immediately starteda runner to Captain Jackson, and it was the receipt of this message thathad caused us to come over. 

The Creeks from their spies had discovered us coming, and told thefriendly Indians that we had a great many fine horses and blankets andguns and everything else, and if they would come out and help whipCaptain Jackson, they should share the plunder. This they promised todo. 

About an hour after sunrise in the morning, piloted by some friendlyIndians, we came near the fort and divided as we had done in our formerbattle; so as to form around the Indians, as before, a hollow square. This time we sent Major Russell and Captain Evans with their companiesto bring on the battle. 

When they got near the fort, they saw that the top of it was lined withfriendly Indians crying out as loud as they could roar--"How-de-do, brothers! How-de-do!" They kept this up till Major Russell had passedby the fort and was moving on toward the besiegers. 

The Creeks had concealed themselves under the bank of a branch that runpartly around the fort, in the manner of a half moon. They were allpainted as red as scarlet, and were just as naked as they were born. Russell could not see them, and was going right into their circle;although the friendly Indians on the top of the fort were trying everyplan to show him his danger. He could not understand them, but at lasttwo of them jumped from the fort, ran and took his horse by the bridle, and pointing, told him there were thousands of Creeks lying under thebank. This brought his company to a halt. 

At the same moment the Creeks fired on them and came rushing forth fromtheir hiding place like a cloud of Egyptian locusts, and screaming likeall the young devils had been turned loose with the old devil at theirhead. Russell's company jumped from their horses and hurried into thefort, while their horses ran up to our line, which by this time was comeinto full view. 

The warriors came yelling on until they were within shot of us, when wefired and killed considerable of them. They then broke like a gang ofsteers, and ran across to the other line, where they were again firedon. And so we kept them running from one line to the other, constantlyunder a heavy fire, until we had killed upwards of four hundred of them. They fought with guns and also with their bows and arrows, but at lengththey made their escape through a part of our line, which was made up ofdrafted militia. We lost fifteen of our men, as brave fellows as everlived or died. We buried them all in one grave, and started back to ourfort, but before we got there two more of our men died with wounds theyhad received. 

We now remained at the fort a few days, but as no provisions came, wewere all liable to perish. The weather also began to get very cold, ourclothes were nearly worn out, and our horses getting very feeble andpoor; so we proposed to General Jackson to let us return home, get freshhorses and fresh clothing, and so be prepared for another campaign. Thesixty days for which we had enlisted had long gone out. The General, however, issued his orders against it. Nevertheless, we began to fix fora start home, but the General placed his cannon on a bridge we had tocross, and ordered out his regulars and drafted men to keep us frompassing. But when the militia started to guard the bridge, they wouldshout back to us to bring their knapsacks along when we came, for theywanted to go as bad as we did. We moved on till we reached the bridge, where the General's men were all strung along on both sides, but we allhad our flints ready picked, and our guns ready, so that if we werefired upon, we might fight our way through or all die together. When wecame still nearer the bridge, we heard the guards cocking their guns, and we did the same; but not a gun was fired nor a life lost. When wehad passed the bridge, no further attempt was made to stop us. TheGeneral said we were the worst volunteers he had ever seen. That wewould volunteer and go out and fight, and then that we would volunteerand go home again in spite of the devil. 

After we had procured fresh horses and a more suitable supply ofclothing, a few of us pushed on to the army again. I joined MajorRussell's company of spies and overtook General Jackson, where weestablished Fort Williams. Then we pushed on to the Horseshoe bend ofthe Tallapoosa River, where we began to find Indian signs in plenty. 

Here we struck up camp for the night; but about two hours before day weheard our guard firing and were all up in little or no time. We mendedup our camp fires and then fell back into the dark, expecting to see theIndians pouring in, and intending, when they should do so, to shoot themby the light of our own fires. It so happened, however, that the Indiansdid not rush in as we expected, but commenced a fire on us as we were. This we returned and continued to shoot as well as we could in the dark, guided only by the flash of the Indians' guns. When day broke, theIndians disappeared, but they had killed four of our men and woundedseveral. Whether we killed any of the Indians or not, we could not tell, for it is their custom to carry off their dead whenever they can. Weburied ours all in one grave and laid logs over them and set them afire, so that the savages might not find them when they returned, as we knewthey would do, to scalp the slain. 

We made some horse-litters for our wounded, and took up our retreat. Wehad to cross a large creek, and when about half our men were over, theIndians commenced firing and kept it up very warmly. They hid themselvesbehind a large log and could kill one of our men, who were in openground and exposed, with almost every shot. At this trying moment twoof our colonels left their men, and by a _forced march_ crossed thecreek out of the reach of the fire. Here Governor Carroll distinguishedhimself by a greater bravery than I ever saw in any other man. In truth, I believe that if it hadn't been for Carroll, we should all have beengenteelly licked that time; with part of our men on one side of thecreek and part on the other, and the Indians all the time pouring it inon us as hot as fresh mustard is to sore skin. I know I was mighty gladwhen the savages quit us, for I began to think there was one behindevery tree in the woods. 

Soon after this, an army was raised to go to Pensacola, and I determinedto go again with them, for I wanted a small taste of British fightingand supposed I would find it there. I joined old Major Russell again andfollowed on after the main army with about a hundred and thirty men inour company. We crossed the river near where I had crossed when I firstwent out; then we passed through the Choctaw and Chickasaw nations towhat is called the Cut-off at the junction of the Tom Bigby with theAlabama River. 

This place is near the old Fort Mimms where the Indians committed thegreat butchery at the commencement of the war. The fort was built rightin the middle of a large old field; and before the massacre the peoplehad been there so long and lived so quietly that they didn't apprehendany danger at all, and had therefore become quite careless. A smallnegro boy, whose business it was to bring up the calves at milking time, had been out for that purpose, and on coming back he said he saw a greatmany Indians. At this the inhabitants took alarm, closed their gatesand put out guards who continued to watch for a few days. Finding thatno attack was made, they concluded the little negro had lied, and againthrew their gates open and sent out their hands to work their fields. The same boy set out again on the same errand, and returned in greathaste and alarm, and informed them he had seen the Indians as thick astrees in the woods. He was not believed, but was tied up to receive aflogging for the supposed lie. In fact he was actually getting badlylicked at the very moment when the Indians came in a troop. They wereloaded with rails with which they stopped all the portholes of the forton one side, and then they fell to cutting down the picketing. Thoseinside the fort had only the bastion to shoot from, and as fast as oneIndian would fall, another would catch up his ax and chop away untilthey succeeded in cutting down enough of the picketing to permit them toenter. Then they rushed through and immediately commenced scalpingwithout regard to age or sex. Having forced the inhabitants up to oneside of the fort, they carried on the work as a butcher would in aslaughter pen. 

[Illustration: THE ATTACK ON THE FORT]

This scene was partly described to me by a young man who was in the fortwhen it happened. He said that he saw his father and mother, his foursisters and the same number of brothers all butchered in the mostshocking manner, and that he made his escape by running over the headsof the crowd to the top of the fort, and then jumped off and ran intothe woods. He was closely pursued by several Indians until he came to asmall bayou, across which there was a log. He knew the log was hollowon the under side, so he slipped off and hid himself. He said he heardthe Indians walk over him, back and forward several times. Neverthelesshe remained quiet there until night, when he came out and finished hisescape. 

We left our horses at the Cut-off and hurried on foot over the eightymiles to Pensacola, where our arrival was hailed with great applause;though we were a little after the feast, for they had taken the town andfort before we got there. The next morning we started back toward oldFort Mimms, where we remained two or three days until General Jacksonand the main army set out for New Orleans; while we, under the commandof Major Russell, turned south to attack the Indians on the ScambyRiver. 

At Fort Montgomery, about a mile and a half from old Fort Mimms, weremained for some days, where we supplied ourselves pretty well withbeef by killing wild cattle, which had formerly belonged to the peoplewho had perished in the fort. At last we moved out on the Scamby River, near which we camped a thousand men, of whom about two hundred wereChickasaw and Choctaw Indians. The Indians had all along proposed tocross the river, and thinking it might be well for them to do so, MajorRussell and I with fifteen other men went with them, and early the nextmorning set out from the river bank. We soon came to a place where thewhole country was covered with water, and it looked like a sea. Wedidn't stop for this, but just put in like so many spaniels and wadedon, sometimes up to our armpits, until we reached the pine hills about amile and a half away. Here we struck up a fire to warm ourselves, forit was cold and we were chilled through. Again we moved on, keeping ourspies out; two to our left near the bank of the river, two straightbefore us, and five others on our right. 

We had gone in this way about six miles up the river, when our spies onthe left came to us, leaping about like so many old bucks, and informedus that they had discovered a camp of Creek Indians and that we mustkill them. Here we paused for a few minutes, and the prophets pow-wowedover their men awhile and then got out their paint and painted them allaccording to their custom when going into battle. Then they broughttheir paint to old Major Russell and said to him, that as he was anofficer he must be painted too. He agreed, and they painted him just asthemselves. We let the Indians understand that we white men would firstfire on the camp and then fall back so as to give the Indians a chanceto rush on them and scalp them. The Chickasaws marched on our left handand the Choctaws on our right, and thus we moved on till we came inhearing of the camp. On nearer approach we found they were on an island, and we could not get to them. 

While we were chatting about this matter we heard some guns fired, andin a very short time after a keen whoop. With that we all broke likequarter-horses for the firing. There we met our two front spies, whosaid they had met two Creeks who were out hunting their horses, and asthere was a large cluster of green bay bushes exactly between them, theywere within a few feet of meeting before either was discovered. Ourspies, speaking in the Shawnee tongue, said they were escaping fromGeneral Jackson, who was at Pensacola, and that they wanted to knowwhere they could get something to eat. The Creeks told them that ninemiles up the Conaker River was a large camp of Creeks where they hadcattle and plenty to eat; and that their own camp was on an island abouta mile off, just below the mouth of the Conaker. Then the four struck upa fire, smoked together, shook hands and parted. One of the Creeks had agun, but the other had none. As soon as they had parted, our Choctawsturned around and shot down the one that had the gun. When the otherstarted to run off, they snapped at him several times, but as the gunmissed fire, they ran after him and one of them clubbed him to deathwith the gun. In doing so they broke the gun, but they fired off the onethe Creek had had, and raised a whoop of victory. When we reached themthey had cut off the heads of both the Indians and stood ready to scalpthem. 

Moving on, we came to where a Spaniard, together with a woman whom wesupposed to be his wife, and four children, had all been killed andscalped. It was now late evening, and we came down to the river bankopposite the Indian camp, where some friendly Creeks who were with ussaid they would decoy the Indians from the island. Although they couldnot call the Indians over, they did succeed in learning that a canoebelonging to the Indians was on our side of the river. Soon we found it, and forty of our warriors crossed over to take the camp. When theyarrived they found only one man in the camp, and he escaped; but theycaptured two squaws and ten children. 

For some time after this we marched about, and had several skirmisheswith the Indians, in which we killed several of them. We suffered mostfrom lack of food, and were very hard put to it to keep soul and bodytogether; but by hunting a great deal, we managed to live till we metsome East Tennessee troops who were on the road to Mobile, and myyoungest brother was with them. They had plenty of corn and provisions, and I remained with them until next morning. 

Nothing more that is worthy of the reader's attention transpired till Iwas safely landed at home once more with my wife and children. I foundthem, however, doing well, and though I was only a rough sort of abackwoodsman, they seemed mighty glad to see me, however little thequality folks might suppose it. For I do reckon we love as hard in thebackwoods country as any people in creation. 

FOOTNOTES:

[42-1] The name _painter_ is a corruption of _panther_, and is appliedin the United States to the cougar or American lion. 

[Illustration]

AMERICA

_By_ SAMUEL FRANCIS SMITH

 NOTE. --This poem, which is now considered by many to be the great national hymn of the United States, was sung first at a Fourth of July celebration for children in the Park Street Church, Boston. 

 The author was born in Boston in 1808, and graduated from Harvard University in the same class with Oliver Wendell Holmes. When Smith wrote _America_ he was a student in the Andover Theological Seminary. Many years after they had left college, Dr. Holmes at a reunion of his class read his famous poem _The Boys_. In it he alludes to Samuel Francis Smith as follows:

 "He chanted a song for the brave and the free; Just read on his medal 'My country, of thee. '"

 My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing; Land where my fathers died, Land of the pilgrims' pride, From every mountain side Let freedom ring. 

 My native country, thee-- Land of the noble free-- Thy name I love; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills, My heart with rapture thrills Like that above. 

 Let music swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees Sweet freedom's song; Let mortal tongues awake; Let all that breathe partake; Let rocks their silence break-- The sound prolong. 

 Our fathers' God, to thee, Author of liberty, To thee we sing: Long may our land be bright, With freedom's holy light; Protect us by thy might, Great God, our King. 

 Perhaps few who know _America_ and who sing it well understand it thoroughly. 

 There are a few historical allusions in it. Who were the pilgrims? Why did the pilgrims take pride in the land? Does the author mean Puritans when he says pilgrims?

 The first stanza turned into prose might read something as follows: I sing of thee, my own country, the sweet land of liberty. Let all the people who live in this land where our fathers died, in this land which was the pilgrims' pride, sing songs of freedom till they ring from every mountain side. 

 In the second stanza the poet in his religious fervor thinks of the hills as being like temples. He calls America the land of the noble free, meaning the noble freemen. Sometimes this line is printed with a comma after the word _noble_. Then the line means land of the noble man, the free man. The stanza as a whole might be rendered into prose after this manner: I love thee, my country, thou land of the noble free, and I love thy name; I love, too, thy rocks, rills, woods and templed hills, and my heart thrills with rapture like that which is felt by the angels above. 

 The meaning of the third stanza is clearer if we put it into prose as follows: Let music swell grandly on the breeze, and let the sweet song of freedom ring from all the trees; let every human being sing the song; let all living things join in the chorus. Let even the rocks break the silence and prolong the music with their echoes. 

 The last stanza means this: O Thou great God, who protected our fathers in the wilderness and who created for them and their descendants the liberty we enjoy, to Thee we offer this devout song and prayer: "Through all the coming centuries may our land be free, and do Thou, great God our King, protect us by Thy far-reaching power. "

 We should learn to think of a song like this as a unit, a perfect whole, and the following summary will aid us in so doing:

 First stanza--I sing this song about my country, and may such songs of freedom ring everywhere within it. 

 Second stanza. --I love my country and every good thing in it devotedly. 

 Third stanza. --Let every one join in songs of freedom. 

 Fourth stanza. --We sing praises to God, and ask Him to protect us, and keep freedom forever ours. 

[Illustration]

THE RETREAT OF CORTES[63-*]

_By_ WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT

There was no longer any question as to the expediency of evacuating thecapital. The only doubt was as to the time of doing so, and the route. The Spanish commander called a council of officers to deliberate onthese matters. It was his purpose to retreat on Tlascala, and in thatcapital to decide according to circumstances on his future operations. After some discussion, they agreed on the causeway of Tlacopan as theavenue by which to leave the city. It would, indeed, take them back by acircuitous route, considerably longer than either of those by whichthey had approached the capital. But, for that reason, it would be lesslikely to be guarded, as least suspected; and the causeway itself, beingshorter than either of the other entrances, would sooner place the armyin comparative security on the mainland. 

There was some difference of opinion in respect to the hour ofdeparture. The daytime, it was argued by some, would be preferable, since it would enable them to see the nature and extent of their danger, and to provide against it. Darkness would be much more likely toembarrass their own movements than those of the enemy, who were familiarwith the ground. A thousand impediments would occur in the night, whichmight prevent them acting in concert, or obeying, or even ascertaining, the orders of the commander. But, on the other hand, it was urged thatthe night presented many obvious advantages in dealing with a foe whorarely carried his hostilities beyond the day. The late activeoperations of the Spaniards had thrown the Mexicans off their guard, andit was improbable they would anticipate so speedy a departure of theirenemies. With celerity and caution, they might succeed, therefore, inmaking their escape from the town, possibly over the causeway, beforetheir retreat should be discovered; and, could they once get beyond thatpass of peril, they felt little apprehension for the rest. 

The general had already superintended the construction of a portablebridge to be laid over the open canals in the causeway. This was givenin charge to an officer named Magarino, with forty soldiers under hisorders, all pledged to defend the bridge to the last extremity. Thebridge was to be taken up when the entire army had crossed one of thebreaches, and transported to the next. There were three of theseopenings in the causeway, and most fortunate would it have been for theexpedition, if the foresight of the commander had provided the samenumber of bridges. But the labor would have been great, and the time wasshort. 

At midnight the troops were under arms, in readiness for the march. Masswas performed by Father Olmedo, who invoked the protection of theAlmighty through the awful perils of the night. The gates were thrownopen, and, on the first of July, 1520, the Spaniards for the last timesallied forth from the walls of the ancient fortress, the scene of somuch suffering and such indomitable courage. 

The night was cloudy, and a drizzling rain, which fell withoutintermission, added to the obscurity. The great square before the palacewas deserted, as, indeed, it had been since the fall of Montezuma. Steadily, and as noiselessly as possible, the Spaniards held their wayalong the great street of Tlacopan, which so lately had resounded to thetumult of battle. All was now hushed in silence; and they were onlyreminded of the past by the occasional presence of some solitary corpse, or a dark heap of the slain, which too plainly told where the strife hadbeen hottest. As they passed along the lanes and alleys which openedinto the great street, or looked down the canals, whose polished surfacegleamed with a sort of ebon lustre through the obscurity of the night, they easily fancied they discerned the shadowy forms of their foelurking in ambush, and ready to spring on them. But it was only fancy;and the city slept undisturbed even by the prolonged echoes of the trampof horses, and the hoarse rumbling of the artillery and baggage trains. At length, a lighter space beyond the dusky line of buildings showed thevan of the army that it was emerging on the open causeway. They mightwell have congratulated themselves on having thus escaped the dangers ofassault in the city itself, and that a brief time would place them incomparative safety on the opposite shore. But the Mexicans were not allasleep. 

As the Spaniards drew near the spot where the street opened on thecauseway, and were preparing to lay the portable bridge across theuncovered breach which now met their eyes, several Indian sentinels, whohad been stationed at this, as at the other approaches to the city, tookalarm and fled, rousing their countrymen by their cries. The priests, keeping their night watch on the summit of the _teocallis_, instantlycaught the tidings and sounded their shells, while the huge drum in thedesolate temple of the war-god sent forth those solemn tones, which, heard only in seasons of calamity, vibrated through every corner of thecapital. The Spaniards saw that no time was to be lost. The bridge wasbrought forward and fitted with all possible expedition. Sandoval wasthe first to try its strength, and, riding across, was followed by hislittle body of cavalry, his infantry, and Tlascalan allies, who formedthe first divisions of the army. Then came Cortes and his squadrons, with the baggage, ammunition wagons, and a part of the artillery. Butbefore they had time to defile across the narrow passage, a gatheringsound was heard, like that of a mighty forest agitated by the winds. Itgrew louder and louder, while on the dark waters of the lake was heard aplashing noise, as of many oars. Then came a few stones and arrowsstriking at random among the troops. They fell every moment faster andmore furious, till they thickened into a terrible tempest, while thevery heavens were rent with the yells and war cries of myriads ofcombatants, who seemed all at once to be swarming over land and lake!

The Spaniards pushed steadily on through this arrowy sleet, though thebarbarians, dashing their canoes against the sides of the causeway, clambered up and broke in upon their ranks. But the Christians, anxiousonly to make their escape, declined all combat except forself-preservation. The cavaliers, spurring forward their steeds, shookoff their assailants, and rode over their prostrate bodies, while themen on foot with their good swords or the butts of their pieces drovethem headlong again down the sides of the dike. 

But the advance of several thousand men, marching, probably, on a frontof not more than fifteen or twenty abreast, necessarily required muchtime, and the leading files had already reached the second breach in thecauseway before those in the rear had entirely traversed the first. Herethey halted, as they had no means of effecting a passage, smarting allthe while under unintermitting volleys from the enemy, who wereclustered thick on the waters around this second opening. Sorelydistressed, the vanguard sent repeated messages to the rear to demandthe portable bridge. At length the last of the army had crossed, andMagarino and his sturdy followers endeavoured to raise the ponderousframe-work. But it stuck fast in the sides of the dike. In vain theystrained every nerve. The weight of so many men and horses, and aboveall of the heavy artillery, had wedged the timbers so firmly in thestones and earth, that it was beyond their power to dislodge them. Stillthey laboured amidst a torrent of missiles, until, many of them slain, and all wounded, they were obliged to abandon the attempt. 

The tidings soon spread from man to man, and no sooner was theirdreadful import comprehended, than a cry of despair arose, which for amoment drowned all the noise of conflict. All means of retreat were cutoff. Scarcely hope was left. The only hope was in such desperateexertions as each could make for himself. Order and subordination wereat an end. Intense danger produced intense selfishness. Each thoughtonly of his own life. Pressing forward, he trampled down the weak andthe wounded, heedless whether it were friend or foe. The leading files, urged on by the rear, were crowded on the brink of the gulf. Sandoval, Ordaz, and the other cavaliers dashed into the water. Some succeeded inswimming their horses across. Others failed, and some, who reached theopposite bank, being overturned in the ascent, rolled headlong withtheir steeds into the lake. The infantry followed pell-mell, heapedpromiscuously on one another, or struck down by the war clubs of theAztecs; while many an unfortunate victim was dragged half-stunned onboard their canoes, to be reserved for a protracted, but more dreadfuldeath. 

[Illustration: BATTLE ON THE CAUSEWAY]

The carnage raged fearfully along the length of the causeway. Itsshadowy bulk presented a mark of sufficient distinctness for the enemy'smissiles, which often prostrated their own countrymen in the blind furyof the tempest. Those nearest the dike, running their canoes alongside, with a force that shattered them to pieces, leaped on the land, andgrappled with the Christians, until both came rolling down the side ofthe causeway together. But the Aztec fell among his friends, while hisantagonist was borne away in triumph to the sacrifice. The struggle waslong and deadly. The Mexicans were recognized by their white cottontunics, which showed faint through the darkness. Above the combatantsrose a wild and discordant clamor, in which horrid shouts of vengeancewere mingled with groans of agony, with invocations of the saints andthe Blessed Virgin, and with the screams of women; for there wereseveral women, both natives and Spaniards, who had accompanied theChristian camp. Among these, one named Maria de Estrada is particularlynoticed for the courage she displayed, battling with broadsword andtarget like the staunchest of the warriors. 

The opening in the causeway, meanwhile, was filled up with the wreck ofmatter which had been forced into it, ammunition wagons, heavy guns, bales of rich stuffs scattered over the waters, chests of solid ingots, and bodies of men and horses, till over this dismal ruin a passage wasgradually formed, by which those in the rear were enabled to clamber tothe other side. Cortes, it is said, found a place that was fordable, where, halting, with the water up to his saddle girths, he endeavouredto check the confusion, and lead his followers by a safer path to theopposite bank. But his voice was lost in the wild uproar, and finally, hurrying on with the tide, he pressed forward with a few trustycavaliers, who remained near his person, to the van; but not before hehad seen his favorite page, Juan de Salazar, struck down, a corpse, byhis side. Here he found Sandoval and his companions, halting before thethird and last breach, endeavouring to cheer on their followers tosurmount it. But their resolution faltered. It was wide and deep; thoughthe passage was not so closely beset by the enemy as the preceding ones. The cavaliers again set the example by plunging into the water. Horseand foot followed as they could, some swimming, others with dying graspclinging to the manes and tails of the struggling animals. Those faredbest, as the general had predicted, who traveled lightest; and many werethe unfortunate wretches, who, weighed down by the fatal gold which theyloved so well, were buried with it in the salt floods of the lake. Cortes, with his gallant comrades, Olid, Morla, Sandoval, and some fewothers, still kept in the advance, leading his broken remnant off thefatal causeway. The din of battle lessened in the distance; when therumor reached them, that the rearguard would be wholly overwhelmedwithout speedy relief. It seemed almost an act of desperation; but thegenerous hearts of the Spanish cavaliers did not stop to calculatedanger, when the cry for succour reached them. Turning their horses'bridles, they galloped back to the theatre of action, worked their waythrough the press, swam the canal, and placed themselves in the thick ofthe mêlée on the opposite bank. 

The first grey of the morning was now coming over the waters. It showedthe hideous confusion of the scene which had been shrouded in theobscurity of night. The dark masses of combatants, stretching along thedike, were seen struggling for mastery, until the very causeway on whichthey stood appeared to tremble, and reel to and fro, as if shaken by anearthquake; while the bosom of the lake, as far as the eye could reach, was darkened by canoes crowded with warriors, whose spears andbludgeons, armed with blades of "volcanic glass, " gleamed in the morninglight. 

The cavaliers found Alvarado unhorsed, and defending himself with a poorhandful of followers against an overwhelming tide of the enemy. His goodsteed, which had borne him through many a hard fight, had fallen underhim. He was himself wounded in several places, and was striving in vainto rally his scattered column, which was driven to the verge of thecanal by the fury of the enemy, then in possession of the whole rear ofthe causeway, where they were reinforced every hour by fresh combatantsfrom the city. The artillery in the earlier part of the engagement hadnot been idle, and its iron shower, sweeping along the dike, had moweddown the assailants by hundreds. But nothing could resist theirimpetuosity. The front ranks, pushed on by those behind, were at lengthforced up to the pieces, and, pouring over them like a torrent, overthrew men and guns in one general ruin. The resolute charge of theSpanish cavaliers, who had now arrived, created a temporary check, andgave time for their countrymen to make a feeble rally. But they werespeedily borne down by the returning flood. Cortes and his companionswere compelled to plunge again into the lake, though all did not escape. Alvarado stood on the brink for a moment, hesitating what to do. Unhorsed as he was, to throw himself into the water, in the face of thehostile canoes that now swarmed around the opening, afforded but adesperate chance of safety. He had but a second for thought. He was aman of powerful frame, and despair gave him unnatural energy. Settinghis long lance firmly on the wreck which strewed the bottom of the lake, he sprung forward with all his might, and cleared the wide gap at aleap! Aztecs and Tlascalans gazed in stupid amazement, exclaiming, asthey beheld the incredible feat, "This is truly the _Tonatiuh_, --thechild of the Sun!"--The breadth of the opening is not given. But it wasso great, that the valorous Captain Diaz, who well remembered the place, says the leap was impossible to any man. Other contemporaries, however, do not discredit the story. It was, beyond doubt, a matter of popularbelief at the time; it is to this day familiarly known to everyinhabitant of the capital; and the name of the _Salto de Alvarado_, "Alvarado's Leap, " given to the spot, still commemorates an exploitwhich rivaled those of the demi-gods of Grecian fable. 

Cortes and his companions now rode forward to the front, where thetroops, in a loose, disorderly manner, were marching off the fatalcauseway. A few only of the enemy hung on their rear, or annoyed them byoccasional flights of arrows from the lake. The attention of the Aztecswas diverted by the rich spoil that strewed the battle-ground;fortunately for the Spaniards, who, had their enemy pursued with thesame ferocity with which he had fought, would, in their crippledcondition, have been cut off, probably, to a man. But little molested, therefore, they were allowed to defile through the adjacent village ofPopotla. 

[Illustration: THEY DRAGGED THEIR FEEBLE LIMBS WITH DIFFICULTY]

The Spanish commander there dismounted from his jaded steed, and sittingdown on the steps of an Indian temple, gazed mournfully on the brokenfiles as they passed before him. What a spectacle did they present! Thecavalry, most of them dismounted, were mingled with the infantry, whodragged their feeble limbs along with difficulty; their shattered mailand tattered garments dripping with the salt ooze, showing through theirrents many a bruise and ghastly wound; their bright arms soiled, theirproud crests and banners gone, the baggage, artillery, all, in short, that constitutes the pride and panoply of glorious war, forever lost. Cortes, as he looked wistfully on their thinned and disordered ranks, sought in vain for many a familiar face, and missed more than one dearcompanion who had stood side by side with him through all the perils ofthe Conquest. Though accustomed to control his emotions, or, at least, to conceal them, the sight was too much for him. He covered his facewith his hands, and the tears which trickled down revealed too plainlythe anguish of his soul. 

FOOTNOTES:

[63-*] NOTE. --Hernando Cortes, the conqueror of Mexico, sailed fromCuba, which he had assisted in subduing, for the mainland, where helanded in the spring of 1519. After tarrying on the coast for a time, and founding the city of Vera Cruz, he started inland, passing firstthrough the country of the Tlascalans, who were easily induced to submitto him, and who became his most faithful native allies. By November, 1519, the Spaniards had reached the city of Mexico, the capital of theAztecs, and here they established themselves. 

The chief of the Aztecs, Montezuma, determined not to offer seriousopposition to the Spaniards, but Cortes was distrustful of the Aztecs, and managed to secure possession of Montezuma, whom he kept as ahostage. Called from the city of Mexico by an expedition which had beensent against him from Cuba, Cortes returned as soon as possible, only tofind that the Aztecs had adopted a more aggressive policy. His men weresurrounded and attacked as soon as they entered the city, and theattacks were kept up from day to day. Finally, when Montezuma died, itbecame clear to Cortes that a longer stay in the city would beimpossible. This extract from Prescott's _The Conquest of Mexico_ tellsthe story of the retreat. 

[Illustration]

BATTLE OF IVRY

_By_ LORD MACAULAY

 NOTE. --When Henry of Navarre became king of France as Henry IV, he found that a part of his subjects, under the duke of Mayenne, refused to submit to him. On March 14, 1590, he won over his enemies a splendid victory at Ivry. In his speech to his soldiers before the battle he called upon them to rally to his white plume, if at any time they lost sight of the standard. 

 Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are! And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre! Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance, Through thy cornfields green and sunny vines, oh! pleasant land of France. And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war; Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre. 

 Oh! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day, We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array; With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers, And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears, There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land, And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand; And as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood, And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood; And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, To fight for his own holy name and Henry of Navarre. 

 The King is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest; He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye, He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, Down all our line, in deafening shout, "God save our lord, the King. " "And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may-- For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray-- Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre. "

 Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin! The fiery Duke is pricking fast across St. Andre's plain, With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies now, upon them with the lance! A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest; And in they burst, and on they rushed, while like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. 

[Illustration: "CHARGE FOR THE GOLDEN LILIES NOW"]

 Now, God be praised, the day is ours! Mayenne hath turned his rein, D'Aumale hath cried for quarter, the Flemish Count is slain, Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale; The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags and cloven mail; And then we thought on vengeance, and all along our van, "Remember St. Bartholomew, " was passed from man to man; But out spake gentle Henry then, "No Frenchman is my foe; Down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go. " Oh! was there ever such a knight in friendship or in war, As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre. 

 Ho! maidens of Vienna, --ho! matrons of Luzerne, Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. Ho! Philip, send for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls. Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright; Ho! burghers of St. Généviève, keep watch and ward to-night; For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave, And mocked the counsel of the wise and the valor of the brave. Then glory to his holy name from whom all glories are; And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre. 

THE BATTLE OF THERMOPYLAE

For some time the Greeks had known that danger was threatening them, andin 480 B. C. They learned that it was well-nigh at their gates. Xerxes, the "Great King, " whose heralds when announcing a decree began with thewords, "All people and nations and languages, " whose resources both ofmen and of treasures were more than could be estimated, was gatheringhis forces to proceed against Greece; and many were the rumors as to thesize of his army. 

"There were twelve hundred and seven great ships; and in each ship therewere two hundred rowers and thirty fighting men. Also he had of smallerships, having fifty oars or under, three thousand, and in each of these, taking one with another, there were eighty men. Therefore the wholenumber of the men that served on the ships was five hundred andseventeen thousand and six hundred. Of foot soldiers there wereseventeen hundred thousand, and of horsemen eighty thousand, and ofArabs riding on camels and of Libyans that fought from chariots twentythousand. There were also one hundred and twenty ships of Greeks thatdwelt in Thrace and in the islands thereof, and in these twenty and fourthousand men. To these must be added foot soldiers of the Thracians, thePæonians, the Macedonians, and others. And the sum of the whole was twomillion six hundred and forty-one thousand six hundred and ten. And ofall this great host there was none fitter to be the ruler for beauty andgreat stature than King Xerxes himself. Of those that followed the camp, and of the crews of the provision ships and other vessels of transport, the number was more rather than less than the number of the fightingmen. As for the women that ground the corn, and others that came withthe army, and the horses and beasts of burden, and dogs, their numbercan not be told. "

What could the Greeks do against so many? And yet when the envoys ofKing Xerxes came to the Greek states, demanding from each earth andwater, as a sign that Xerxes was lord of land and sea, all the statesbut Thessaly, which Xerxes would enter first, refused. The Greek stateswere not always on friendly terms one with another; but the great dangerthat threatened them now united them in one common object--to repel thePersian invader and to save their temples and their idols fromdesecration. A council, at which were present deputies from all theGreek states, was held on the Isthmus of Corinth, and plans for defensewere considered. 

There were two narrow passes through which Xerxes would have to comebefore he should find himself in Greece proper, and it was evident thatit was at such places as these that the few Greeks could best withstandthe numerous Persians. To Tempe, therefore, the northernmost of thesepasses, a body of troops was hastily despatched, but they soon returneddeclaring that the defense of the pass was out of the question. Allagreed then that the best plan would be to guard Thermopylae, which ledfrom Thessaly into Locris. To-day a swampy plain almost three milesbroad lies between Mount Oeta and the Maliac Gulf, but in ancienttimes there was but a stretch of sand not more than fifty feet wide atits broadest part, and in some places so narrow that a single wagoncould scarce pass along it. The Greek fleet was posted off the coast toprevent the Persians from landing men beyond the pass, and a company wasat once gathered for the defense of Thermopylae and put under thecommand of Leonidas, King of Sparta. 

"Now, the Greeks that abode the coming of the Persians in this placewere these--three hundred Spartans, heavy-armed men; and men of Tegeaand Matinea a thousand, from each five hundred, and from Orchomenus onehundred and twenty, and from the rest of Arcadia a thousand. FromCorinth there came four hundred, and from Phlius two hundred, and fromMycenae eighty. So many came from the Peloponnesus; of the Boeotiansthere came seven hundred from Thespiae and four hundred from Thebes. Besides these there had come at the summons the Locrians of Opus withall the men that they had, and a thousand Phocians. "

All of the Greeks knew that they were setting out on a dangerousenterprise, but to the Spartans it meant more than that. Leonidashimself felt that he was going to his death, for the oracle at Delphihad foretold that Sparta should be saved if one of her kings shouldperish, and Leonidas was more than willing to make this sacrifice forhis state. His three hundred followers, trained from childhood to lookupon death as infinitely preferable to defeat, had, with that couragewhich has made their name an epithet indicating the highest sort ofbravery, celebrated their funeral games before setting out. When theycame to the pass of Thermopylae, they found a new cause for fear. Thiswas the path which led over the mountains, and which made possible adescent of the enemy to the rear of those stationed in the pass. However, Leonidas was assured that this mountain track was practicallyunknown, and that the entrance to it was very difficult to find; so whenhe had sent a band of Phocians to guard it, he thought little more aboutit. Many of the soldiers, however, felt that they were being subjectedto danger unnecessarily, and insisted that they be allowed to retreat tothe Isthmus of Corinth. As this would have guarded only the Peloponnesusand have left the other states at the mercy of the Persians, Leonidasdetermined that they should remain where they were and await the onsetof the enemy. 

While they lay encamped in the pass, a scout sent by Xerxes rode up tosee how strong the enemy were, and how they were employing their time. In front of and on the walls were a number of the Greeks engaging ingames and combing out their long hair. Surprised to see so few men, andto see those few busying themselves in such an apparently unnecessaryway, the scout rode back and made his report to the Persian king. Nowthere was in the camp of Xerxes one Demaratus, who had formerly beenKing of Sparta, but who had been driven out and had joined himself tothe Persian court. Xerxes sent for him and, describing to him what heconsidered the foolishness of the Greeks, asked what it might mean. Inreply Demaratus said, "Thou hast heard from me, O King, the truthconcerning these men before this, even when we were first beginning thiswar; but when thou heardest it thou didst laugh at me, though I toldthee that which I knew would surely come to pass. For indeed, O King, Istrive always with my whole heart to tell thee the truth. Hear, therefore, yet again what I say. These men are come hither to contendwith us for the pass; and this they now prepare to do; and they havethis custom among them, that when they are about to put their lives inperil they adorn their heads with exceeding care. Know, also, O King, that if thou canst subdue these men, and such others of their nation ashave been left behind in Sparta, there is no nation upon the earth thatwill abide thy coming or lift up a hand against thee; for this city thatthou now fightest against is the most honorable in all Greece, and thesemen are the bravest. "

Incredulously Xerxes asked, "In what manner will these men, being sofew, as we know them to be, fight with my great army?"

Demaratus replied, "O King, deal with me as with a liar if everythingfall not out even as I have said. "

After this, Xerxes allowed four days to pass, thinking that perhaps theGreeks would come to their senses and flee. "But on the fifth day, seeing that they were not departed, but as it seemed to him, were fullof impudence and folly, he grew angry, and sent against them the Medesand the Cissians, giving them a command that they should take theseGreeks alive and bring them before him. But when these men came up andfell upon the Greeks, many of them were slain. Then others came up intotheir places and ceased not from fighting, though indeed they suffered avery grievous slaughter, so that it was manifest to all men, and moreespecially to the King, that though he had very many that bore arms, yethad he but few men of war. And this battle endured throughout the wholeday. "

For two days the troops of Xerxes, even his great Ten Thousand, who wereknown as the Immortals, hurled themselves upon the Greeks, but theyaccomplished nothing, for they fought in a narrow place, where theirgreater numbers were of no help to them; and their spears were shorterthan those of the Greeks, so that they were easily thrust through beforethey could come close enough to harm an enemy. Three times, it is said, while his troops were being driven backward, did Xerxes spring indespair from his throne at the sight of the peril of his army. 

But on the evening of the second day there came to the camp of thePersian King a man named Ephialtes. On being ushered into the presenceof Xerxes, this man admitted that he was a Greek, and proposed that fora great reward he should lead the Persian army over the hidden mountainpath, and bring them to the rear of the Greek defenders. Of courseXerxes accepted the offer, and sent off one of his generals with adetachment to follow Ephialtes over the mountain path. In the morningthe Phocians who had been set to guard this path were awakened by thesound of rustling in the underbrush and rushed from their camp only tosee a detachment of Persian soldiers close upon them. Resolving to selltheir lives dearly, they fled to the top of the mountain, where theythought that they might have the advantage of position over theirenemies; but the Persians, paying no attention to them, passed on downthe mountain to fall upon the brave defenders of Thermopylae. 

The Greeks in the pass knew when morning dawned of the danger thatawaited them, for Megistias the soothsayer told of it, and certainmessengers running before the Persians confirmed his prophecy. "Then theGreeks held a council, considering what they should do; and they weredivided; for some would not leave the post where they had been set, andothers were very eager to depart. And when the council was broken up, some departed, going each to their own cities, and others made ready toabide in the pass with Leonidas. Some say, indeed, that Leonidas sentaway them that departed, having a care for their safety; but it did notbecome him and the Spartans that were with him, he said, to leave theirpost that they had come to keep at the first. And indeed it seems fit tobe believed that Leonidas, seeing that the others were faint-hearted andwould not willingly abide the peril, bade them go, but that he himselfheld it to be a shameful thing to depart. For he knew that he should getfor himself great glory by abiding at his post, and that the prosperityof Sparta should not be destroyed. "

The allies, therefore, with the exception of the Thespians and theThebans, departed, and the brave remainder prepared themselves for theirdeath. Hitherto, Leonidas had stood on the defensive in order to sparethe lives of his men, but now, knowing that death must come, he desiredonly to work as great havoc among the Persians as possible, and hetherefore marched his men out before the wall and fell upon the vanguardof the Persian army. It does not seem strange that the hired soldiersshould have feared to meet this little band of Greeks, and indeed it istold that the Persian captains were obliged to go behind their troopsand with whips scourge them to the fight. Many of the Persians wereforced into the sea and so died; some were trodden under foot, andthousands fell by the hands of the Greeks. But it was not only thePersians who fell in this fierce struggle; Leonidas was one of the firstwho was slain, and many other Spartans fell with him. 

But the death of their leader did not demoralize the Greeks--it onlymade them more reckless and more desperate. At length they saw that theend was close at hand; the "Immortals, " who had come in the night overthe mountain, had arrived, and were ready to fall upon their rear. Closely pressed by the Persians, they drew back to the narrowest part ofthe pass, where they had fought on the preceding days, and there madetheir last stand. Their spears were broken, their swords were dulled;but even had their weapons been still of the best, it would have availedthem little, for the Persians, all too well acquainted now with theGreek daring, refused to close with their enemies. In their well-nighuseless armour, which had been hacked from their limbs during theirearlier encounters, the Greeks stood on a little hillock and braved theshower of Persian arrows and javelins. By the time the sun went downthere remained not one of all the Grecian band, but before their deaththey had succeeded in slaying twenty thousand of the enemy. Xerxesinquired of Demaratus, in whose word he had come to have more confidencesince witnessing the events of the last three days, whether there weremany more men at Sparta like these; and when he was told that there werethousands, he realized that perhaps even his mighty army might not be amatch for them. That all Greeks were not like the Spartans who hadfallen at Thermopylae; that all Greek leaders were not as brave and asdevoted as Leonidas--these facts Xerxes did not realize. The strugglewhich had proved so fatal to so many of his men had shown him that hewas not so irresistible, and had thereby done much for the Greeks. 

[Illustration: THEIR LAST ENCOUNTER]

Where the Greeks fell they were buried, and in after years pillars wereset up to commemorate their bravery. One, in honor of those who fellbefore the allies were sent away, bore the words:

 "Four times a thousand men from Pelops' land Three thousand times a thousand did withstand. "

While over the Spartans by themselves there stood another column whichbore the words, "Go tell the Spartans, thou that passeth by, That here, obedient to their law, we lie. "

MARCO BOZZARIS

_By_ FITZ-GREENE HALLECK

 NOTE. --Marco Bozzaris, a Greek patriot of Suli, threw himself heart and soul into the Greek struggle for freedom. On August 20, 1823, he led a night attack against the Turks, who were encamped on the site of ancient Platæa. The Greek army was but a handful in comparison with that of the Turks, but the Turks were thrown into utter confusion, and the attacking party won a complete victory. Bozzaris, however, was killed in the final attack. 

 At midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power. In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror; In dreams his song of triumph heard; Then wore his monarch's signet-ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne--a king; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird. 

 At midnight, in the forest shades, Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, -- True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. There had the Persian's thousands stood, There had the glad earth drunk their blood, On old Platæa's day; And now there breathed that haunted air The sons of sires who conquered there, With arms to strike, and soul to dare, As quick, as far, as they. 

 An hour passed on, the Turk awoke; That bright dream was his last; He woke--to hear his sentries shriek, "To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!" He woke--to die midst flame, and smoke, And shout and groan, and sabre-stroke, And death-shots falling thick and fast As lightning from the mountain-cloud; And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band: "Strike--till the last armed foe expires; Strike--for your altars and your fires; Strike--for the green graves of your sires, God, and your native land!"

[Illustration: THE TURK AWOKE]

 They fought--like brave men, long and well; They piled that ground with Moslem slain: They conquered--but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won; Then saw in death his eyelids close Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun. Come to the bridal chamber, death, Come to the mother's, when she feels, For the first time, her first-born's breath; Come when the blessed seals That close the pestilence are broke, And crowded cities wail its stroke; Come in consumption's ghastly form, The earthquake shock, the ocean storm; Come when the heart beats high and warm, With banquet song and dance and wine, -- And thou art terrible; the tear, The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, And all we know, or dream, or fear Of agony, are thine. 

 But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. Come when his task of fame is wrought; Come with her laurel-leaf, blood-bought; Come in her crowning hour, --and then Thy sunken eye's unearthly light To him is welcome as the sight Of sky and stars to prisoned men; Thy grasp is welcome as the hand Of brother in a foreign land; Thy summons welcome as the cry That told the Indian isles were nigh To the world-seeking Genoese, When the land-wind, from woods of palm, And orange-groves, and fields of balm, Blew o'er the Haytian seas. Bozzaris! with the storied brave Greece nurtured in her glory's time, Rest thee; there is no prouder grave, Even in her own proud clime. She wore no funeral weeds for thee, Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume, Like torn branch from death's leafless tree, In sorrow's pomp and pageantry, The heartless luxury of the tomb. 

 But she remembers thee as one Long loved, and for a season gone. For thee her poet's lyre is wreathed, Her marble wrought, her music breathed; For thee she rings the birthday bells; Of thee her babes' first lisping tells; For thine her evening prayer is said At palace couch and cottage bed. Her soldier, closing with the foe, Gives for thy sake a deadlier blow; His plighted maiden, when she fears For him, the joy of her young years, Thinks of thy fate, and checks her tears. And she, the mother of thy boys, Though in her eye and faded cheek Is read the grief she will not speak, The memory of her buried joys, -- And even she who gave thee birth, -- Will, by her pilgrim-circled hearth, Talk of thy doom without a sigh; For thou art freedom's now, and fame's, -- One of the few, the immortal names That were not born to die. 

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM

_By_ EDGAR ALLEN POE

We had now reached the summit of the loftiest crag. For some minutes theold man seemed too much exhausted to speak. 

"Not long ago, " said he at length, "and I could have guided you on thisroute as well as the youngest of my sons; but, about three years past, there happened to me an event such as never happened before to mortalman--or at least such as no man ever survived to tell of--and the sixhours of deadly terror which I then endured have broken me up body andsoul. You suppose me a _very_ old man--but I am not. It took less than asingle day to change these hairs from a jetty black to white, to weakenmy limbs, and to unstring my nerves, so that I tremble at the leastexertion, and am frightened at a shadow. Do you know I can scarcely lookover this little cliff without getting giddy?"

The "little cliff, " upon whose edge he had so carelessly thrown himselfdown to rest that the weightier portion of his body hung over it, whilehe was only kept from falling by the tenure of his elbow on its extremeand slippery edge--this "little cliff" arose, a sheer, unobstructedprecipice of black shining rock, some fifteen or sixteen hundred feetfrom the world of crags beneath us. Nothing would have tempted me towithin half a dozen yards of its brink. In truth, so deeply was Iexcited by the perilous position of my companion, that I fell at fulllength upon the ground, clung to the shrubs around me, and dared noteven glance upward at the sky--while I struggled in vain to divestmyself of the idea that the very foundations of the mountain were indanger from the fury of the winds. It was long before I could reasonmyself into sufficient courage to sit up and look out into the distance. 

"You must get over these fancies, " said the guide, "for I have broughtyou here that you might have the best possible view of the scene of thatevent I mentioned--and to tell you the whole story with the spot justunder your eye. 

"We are now, " he continued in that particularizing manner whichdistinguished him--"we are now close upon the Norwegian coast--in thesixty-eighth degree of latitude--in the great province of Nordland--andin the dreary district of Lofoden. The mountain upon whose top we sit isHelseggen, the Cloudy. Now raise yourself up a little higher--hold on tothe grass if you feel giddy--so--and look out, beyond the belt of vaporbeneath us, into the sea. "

I looked dizzily, and beheld a wide expanse of ocean, whose waters woreso inky a hue as to bring at once to my mind the Nubian geographer'saccount of the _Mare Tenebrarum_. A panorama more deplorably desolate nohuman imagination can conceive. To the right and left, as far as the eyecould reach, there lay outstretched, like ramparts of the world, linesof horridly black and beetling cliff, whose character of gloom was butthe more forcibly illustrated by the surf which reared high up againstit its white and ghastly crest, howling and shrieking forever. Justopposite the promontory upon whose apex we were placed, and at adistance of some five or six miles out at sea, there was visible asmall, bleak-looking island; or, more properly, its position wasdiscernible through the wilderness of surge in which it was enveloped. About two miles nearer the land arose another of smaller size, hideouslycraggy and barren and encompassed at various intervals by a cluster ofdark rocks. 

The appearance of the ocean, in the space between the more distantisland and the shore, had something very unusual about it. Although atthe time so strong a gale was blowing landward that a brig in the remoteoffing lay to under a double-reefed trysail, and constantly plunged herwhole hull out of sight, still there was here nothing like a regularswell, but only a short, quick, angry cross dashing of water in everydirection--as well in the teeth of the wind as otherwise. Of foam therewas little except in the immediate vicinity of the rocks. 

"The island in the distance, " resumed the old man, "is called by theNorwegians Vurrgh. The one midway is Moskoe. That a mile to thenorthward is Ambaaren. Yonder are Islesen, Hotholm, Keildhelm, Suarven, and Buckholm. Farther off--between Moskoe and Vurrgh--are Otterholm, Flimen, Sandflesen, and Stockholm. These are the true names of theplaces--but why it has been thought necessary to name them at all, ismore than either you or I can understand. Do you hear anything? Do yousee any change in the water?"

We had now been about ten minutes upon the top of Helseggen, to which wehad ascended from the interior of Lofoden, so that we had caught noglimpse of the sea until it had burst upon us from the summit. As theold man spoke, I became aware of a loud and gradually increasing sound, like the moaning of a vast herd of buffaloes upon an American prairie;and at the same moment I perceived that what seamen term the _chopping_character of the ocean beneath us, was rapidly changing into a currentwhich set to the eastward. Even while I gazed this current acquired amonstrous velocity. Each moment added to its speed--to its headlongimpetuosity. In five minutes the whole sea as far as Vurrgh was lashedinto ungovernable fury; but it was between Moskoe and the coast that themain uproar held its sway. Here the vast bed of the waters, seamed andscarred into a thousand conflicting channels, burst suddenly intofrenzied convulsion--heaving, boiling, hissing--gyrating in gigantic andinnumerable vortices, and all whirling and plunging on to the eastwardwith a rapidity which water never elsewhere assumes except inprecipitous descents. 

In a few minutes more, there came over the scene another radicalalteration. The general surface grew somewhat more smooth, and thewhirlpools one by one disappeared, while prodigious streaks of foambecame apparent where none had been seen before. These streaks, atlength, spreading out to a great distance, and entering intocombination, took unto themselves the gyratory motion of the subsidedvortices, and seemed to form the germ of another more vast. Suddenly--very suddenly--this assumed a distinct and definite existencein a circle of more than a mile in diameter. The edge of the whirl wasrepresented by a broad belt of gleaming spray; but no particle of thisslipped into the mouth of the terrific funnel, whose interior, as far asthe eye could fathom it, was a smooth, shining and jet-black wall ofwater, inclined to the horizon at an angle of some forty-five degrees, speeding dizzily round and round with a swaying and sweltering motion, and sending forth to the wind an appalling voice, half-shriek, half-roar, such as not even the mighty cataract of Niagara ever lifts upin its agony to Heaven. 

The mountain trembled to its very base, and the rock rocked. I threwmyself upon my face, and clung to the scant herbage in an excess ofnervous agitation. 

"This, " said I at length, to the old man--"this _can_ be nothing elsethan the great whirlpool of the Maelstrom. "

"So it is sometimes termed, " said he. "We Norwegians call it theMoskoe-strom, from the island of Moskoe in the midway. "

The ordinary accounts of this vortex had by no means prepared me forwhat I saw. That of Jonas Ramus, which is perhaps the mostcircumstantial of any, cannot impart the faintest conception of eitherthe magnificence, or of the horror of the scene--or of the wild, bewildering sense of _the novel_ which confounds the beholder. I am notsure from what point of view the writer in question surveyed it, nor atwhat time; but it could neither have been from the summit of Helseggen, nor during a storm. There are some passages of this description, nevertheless, which may be quoted for their details, although theireffect is exceedingly feeble in conveying an impression of thespectacle. 

"Between Lofoden and Moskoe, " he says, "the depth of the water isbetween thirty-five and forty fathoms; but on the other side, toward Ver(Vurrgh) this depth decreases so as not to afford a convenient passagefor a vessel, without the risk of splitting on the rocks, which happenseven in the calmest weather. When it is flood, the stream runs up thecountry between Lofoden and Moskoe with a boisterous rapidity, but theroar of its impetuous ebb to the sea is scarce equaled by the loudestand most dreadful cataracts--the noise being heard several leagues off, and the vortices or pits are of such an extent and depth, that if a shipcomes within its attraction it is inevitably absorbed and carried downto the bottom and there beat to pieces against the rocks, and when thewater relaxes the fragments thereof are thrown up again. But theseintervals of tranquillity are only at the turn of the ebb and flood, andin calm weather, and last but a quarter of an hour, its violencegradually returning. When the stream is most boisterous, and its furyheightened by a storm, it is dangerous to come within a Norway mile ofit. Boats, yachts, and ships have been carried away by not guardingagainst it before they were within its reach. It likewise happensfrequently that whales come too near the stream, and are overpowered byits violence, and then it is impossible to describe their howlings andbellowings in their fruitless struggles to disengage themselves. A bearonce, attempting to swim from Lofoden to Moskoe, was caught by thestream and borne down, while he roared terribly, so as to be heard onshore. Large stocks of firs and pine trees, after being absorbed by thecurrent, rise again broken and torn to such a degree as if bristles grewupon them. This plainly shows the bottom to consist of craggy rocks, among which they are whirled to and fro. This stream is regulated by theflux and reflux of the sea--it being constantly high and low water everysix hours. One morning, in the year 1645, it raged with such noise andimpetuosity that the very stones of the houses on the coast fell to theground. "

In regard to the depth of the water, I could not see how this could havebeen ascertained at all in the immediate vicinity of the vortex. The"forty fathoms" must have reference only to portions of the channelclose upon the shore either of Moskoe or Lofoden. The depth in thecenter of the Moskoe-strom must be immeasurably greater; and no betterproof of this fact is necessary than can be obtained from even thesidelong glance into the abyss of the whirl which may be had from thehighest crag of Helseggen. Looking down from this pinnacle upon thehowling Phlegethon below, I could not help smiling at the simplicitywith which the honest Jonas Ramus records, as a matter difficult ofbelief, the anecdotes of the whales and the bears; for it appeared tome, in fact, a self-evident thing that the largest ship of the line inexistence coming within the influence of that deadly attraction couldresist it as little as a feather the hurricane, and must disappearbodily and at once. 

The attempts to account for the phenomenon now wore a very different andunsatisfactory aspect. The idea generally received is that this, as wellas three smaller vortices among the Ferroe Islands, "have no other causethan the collision of waves rising and falling at flux and refluxagainst a ridge of rocks and shelves, which confines the water so thatit precipitates itself like a cataract; and thus the higher the floodrises the deeper must the fall be, and the natural result of all is awhirlpool or vortex, the prodigious suction of which is sufficientlyknown by lesser experiments. " These are the words of the EncyclopædiaBritannica. Kircher and others imagine that in the center of the channelof the Maelstrom is an abyss penetrating the globe, and issuing in somevery remote part--the Gulf of Bothnia being somewhat decidedly named inone instance. This opinion, idle in itself, was the one to which, as Igazed, my imagination most readily assented; and, mentioning it to theguide, I was rather surprised to hear him say that, although it was theview almost universally entertained of the subject by the Norwegians, itnevertheless was not his own. As to the former notion, he confessed hisinability to comprehend it; and here I agreed with him--for, howeverconclusive on paper, it becomes altogether unintelligible, and evenabsurd, amid the thunder of the abyss. 

"You have had a good look at the whirl now, " said the old man, "and ifyou will creep round this crag so as to get in its lee, and deaden theroar of the water, I will tell you a story that will convince you Iought to know something of the Moskoe-strom. "

I placed myself as desired, and he proceeded. 

"Myself and my two brothers once owned a schooner-rigged smack of aboutseventy tons burthen, with which we were in the habit of fishing amongthe islands beyond Moskoe, nearly to Vurrgh. In all violent eddies atsea there is good fishing at proper opportunities if one has only thecourage to attempt it, but among the whole of the Lofoden coastmen, wethree were the only ones who made a regular business of going out to theislands, as I tell you. The usual grounds are a great way lower down tothe southward. There fish can be got at all hours, without much risk, and therefore these places are preferred. The choice spots over hereamong the rocks, however, not only yield the finest variety, but in fargreater abundance, so that we often got in a single day what the moretimid of the craft could not scrape together in a week. In fact, we madeit a matter of desperate speculation--the risk of life standing insteadof labor, and courage answering for capital. 

"We kept the smack in a cove about five miles higher up the coast thanthis; and it was our practice, in fine weather, to take advantage of thefifteen minutes' slack to push across the main channel of theMoskoe-strom, far above the pool, and then drop down upon anchoragesomewhere near Otterholm, or Sandflesen, where the eddies are not soviolent as elsewhere. Here we used to remain until nearly time for slackwater again, when we weighed and made for home. We never set out uponthis expedition without a steady side wind for going and coming--onethat we felt sure would not fail us before our return--and we seldommade a miscalculation upon this point. Twice during six years we wereforced to stay all night at anchor on account of a dead calm, which is arare thing indeed just about here; and once we had to remain on thegrounds nearly a week, starving to death, owing to a gale which blew upshortly after our arrival, and made the channel too boisterous to bethought of. Upon this occasion we should have been driven out to sea inspite of everything (for the whirlpools threw us round and round soviolently that at length we fouled our anchor and dragged it) if it hadnot been that we drifted into one of the innumerable crosscurrents--here to-day and gone to-morrow--which drove us under the leeof Flimen, where, by good luck, we brought up. 

"I could not tell you the twentieth part of the difficulties weencountered 'on the grounds'--it is a bad spot to be in, even in goodweather--but we made shift always to run the gauntlet of theMoskoe-strom itself without accident; although at times my heart hasbeen in my mouth when we happened to be a minute or so behind or beforethe slack. The wind sometimes was not as strong as we thought it atstarting, and then we made rather less way than we could wish, while thecurrent rendered the smack unmanageable. My eldest brother had a soneighteen years old, and I had two stout boys of my own. These would havebeen of great assistance at such times in using the sweeps, as well asafterward in fishing, but somehow, although we ran the risk ourselves, we had not the heart to let the young ones get into the danger--for, after all is said and done, it _was_ a horrible danger, and that is thetruth. 

"It is now within a few days of three years since what I am going totell you occurred. It was on the tenth day of July, 18--, a day whichthe people of this part of the world will never forget--for it was onein which blew the most terrible hurricane that ever came out of theheavens; and yet all the morning, and indeed until late in theafternoon, there was a gentle and steady breeze from the southwest, while the sun shone brightly, so that the oldest seaman among us couldnot have foreseen what was to follow. 

"The three of us--my two brothers and myself--had crossed over to theislands about 2 o'clock P. M. , and had soon nearly loaded the smack withfine fish, which, we all remarked, were more plentiful that day than wehad ever known them. It was just seven _by my watch_ when we weighed andstarted for home, so as to make the worst of the Strom at slack water, which we knew would be at eight. 

"We set out with a fresh wind on our starboard quarter, and for sometime spanked along at a great rate, never dreaming of danger, for indeedwe saw not the slightest reason to apprehend it. All at once we weretaken aback by a breeze from over Helseggen. This was mostunusual--something that had never happened to us before--and I began tofeel a little uneasy without exactly knowing why. We put the boat on thewind, but could make no headway at all for the eddies, and I was putupon the point of proposing to return to the anchorage, when, lookingastern, we saw the whole horizon covered with a singular copper-coloredcloud that rose with the most amazing velocity. 

"In the meantime the breeze that had headed us off fell away, and wewere dead becalmed, drifting about in every direction. This state ofthings, however, did not last long enough to give us time to think aboutit. In less than a minute the storm was upon us--in less than two thesky was entirely overcast--and what with this and the driving spray itbecame suddenly so dark that we could not see each other in the smack. 

"Such a hurricane as then blew it is folly to attempt describing. Theoldest seaman in Norway never experienced anything like it. We had letour sails go by the run before it cleverly took us; but, at the firstpuff both our masts went by the board as if they had been sawed off--themainmast taking with it my youngest brother, who had lashed himself toit for safety. 

"Our boat was the lightest feather of a thing that ever sat upon water. It had a complete flushed deck, with only a small hatch near the bow, and this hatch it had always been our custom to batten down when aboutto cross the Strom, by way of precaution against the chopping seas. Butfor this circumstance we should have foundered at once--for we layentirely buried for some moments. How my elder brother escapeddestruction I cannot say, for I never had an opportunity ofascertaining. For my part, as soon as I had let the foresail run, Ithrew myself flat on deck, with my feet against the narrow gunwale ofthe bow, and with my hands grasping a ring-bolt near the foot of thefore-mast. It was mere instinct that prompted me to do this--which wasundoubtedly the very best thing I could have done--for I was too muchflurried to think. 

"For some moments we were completely deluged, as I say, and all thistime I held my breath, and clung to the bolt. When I could stand it nolonger I raised myself upon my knees, still keeping hold with my hands, and thus got my head clear. Presently our little boat gave herself ashake, just as a dog does in coming out of the water, and thus ridherself in some measure of the seas. I was now trying to get the betterof the stupor that had come over me, and to collect my senses so as tosee what was to be done, when I felt somebody grasp my arm. It was myelder brother, and my heart leaped for joy, for I had made sure that hewas overboard--but the next moment all this joy was turned tohorror--for he put his mouth close to my ear, and screamed out the word'_Moskoestrom_!'

"No one will ever know what my feelings were at that moment. I shookfrom head to foot, as if I had had the most violent fit of the ague. Iknew what he meant by that one word well enough--I knew what he wishedto make me understand. With the wind that now drove us on we were boundfor the whirl of the Strom, and nothing could save us!

"You perceive that in crossing the Strom _channel_, we always went along way up above the whirl, even in the calmest weather, and then hadto wait and watch carefully for the slack--but now we were driving rightupon the pool itself, and in such a hurricane as this! 'To be sure, ' Ithought, 'we shall get there just about the slack--there is some littlehope in that'--but in the next moment I cursed myself for being so greata fool as to dream of hope at all. I knew very well that we were doomedhad we been ten times a ninety-gun ship. 

"By this time the first fury of the tempest had spent itself, or perhapswe did not feel it so much as we scudded before it, but at all eventsthe seas, which at first had been kept down by the wind and lay flat andfrothing, now got up into absolute mountains. A singular change, too, had come over the heavens. Around in every direction it was still asblack as pitch, but nearly overhead there burst out, all at once, acircular rift of clear sky--as clear as I ever saw, and of a deep brightblue--and through it there blazed forth the full moon with a luster thatI never before knew her to wear. She lit up everything about us with thegreatest distinctness--but, O God, what a scene it was to light up!

"I now made one or two attempts to speak to my brother--but, in somemanner which I could not understand, the din had so increased that Icould not make him hear a single word, although I screamed at the top ofmy voice in his ear. Presently he shook his head, looking as pale asdeath, and held up one of his fingers as if to say '_listen_!'

"At first I could not make out what he meant--but soon a hideous thoughtflashed upon me. I dragged my watch from its fob. It was not going. Iglanced at its face by the moonlight, and then burst into tears as Iflung it far away into the ocean. _It had run down at seven o'clock! Wewere behind the time of the slack, and the whirl of the Strom was infull fury!_

"When a boat is well built, properly trimmed, and not deep laden, thewaves in a strong gale, when she is going large, seem always to slipfrom beneath her--which appears very strange to a landsman--and this iswhat is called _riding_, in sea-phrase. Well, so far we had ridden theswells very cleverly, but presently a gigantic sea happened to take usright under the counter, and bore us with it as it rose--up--up--as ifinto the sky. I would not have believed that any wave could rise sohigh. And then down we came with a sweep, a slide, and a plunge, thatmade me feel sick and dizzy, as if I was falling from some loftymountain-top in a dream. But while we were up I had thrown a quickglance around--and that one glance was all sufficient. I saw our exactposition in an instant. The Moskoe-strom whirlpool was about a quarterof a mile dead ahead--but no more like the everyday Moskoe-strom, thanthe whirl as you now see it is like a mill-race. If I had not knownwhere we were, and what we had to expect, I should not have recognizedthe place at all. As it was, I involuntarily closed my eyes in horror. The lids clenched themselves together as if in a spasm. 

"It could not have been more than two minutes afterward until wesuddenly felt the waves subside, and were enveloped in foam. The boatmade a sharp half turn to larboard, and then shot off in its newdirection like a thunderbolt. At the same moment the roaring noise ofthe water was completely drowned in a kind of shrill shriek--such asound as you might imagine given out by the waste-pipes of many thousandsteam-vessels letting off their steam all together. We were now in thebelt of surf that always surrounds the whirl; and I thought of coursethat another moment would plunge us into the abyss--down which we couldonly see indistinctly on account of the amazing velocity with which wewere borne along. The boat did not seem to sink into the water at all, but to skim like an air-bubble upon the surface of the surge. Herstarboard side was next the whirl, and on the larboard arose the worldof ocean we had left. It stood like a huge writhing wall between us andthe horizon. 

"It may appear strange, but now, when we were in the very jaws of thegulf, I felt more composed than when we were only approaching it. Havingmade up my mind to hope no more, I got rid of a great deal of thatterror which unmanned me at first. I suppose it was despair that strungmy nerves. 

"It may look like boasting--but what I tell you is truth--I began toreflect how magnificent a thing it was to die in such a manner, and howfoolish it was in me to think of so paltry a consideration as my ownindividual life in view of so wonderful a manifestation of God's power. I do believe that I blushed with shame when this idea crossed my mind. After a little while I became possessed with the keenest curiosity aboutthe whirl itself. I positively felt a _wish_ to explore its depths, evenat the sacrifice I was going to make; and my principal grief was that Ishould never be able to tell my old companions on shore about themysteries I should see. These, no doubt, were singular fancies to occupya man's mind in such extremity, and I have often thought since that therevolutions of the boat around the pool might have rendered me a littlelight-headed. 

"There was another circumstance which tended to restore myself-possession, and this was the cessation of the wind, which couldnot reach us in our present situation--for, as you saw yourself, thebelt of surf is considerably lower than the general bed of the ocean, and this latter now towered above us, a high, black, mountainous ridge. If you have never been at sea in a heavy gale you can form no idea ofthe confusion of mind occasioned by the wind and spray together. Theyblind, deafen, and strangle you, and take away all power of action orreflection. But we were now, in a great measure, rid of theseannoyances--just as death-condemned felons in prison are allowed pettyindulgences, forbidden them while their doom is yet uncertain. 

"How often we made the circuit of the belt it is impossible to say. Wecareered round and round for perhaps an hour, flying rather thanfloating, getting gradually more and more into the middle of the surge, and then nearer and nearer to its horrible inner edge. All this time Ihad never let go of the ring-bolt. My brother was at the stern, holdingon to a small empty water-cask which had been securely lashed under thecoop of the counter, and was the only thing on deck that had not beenswept overboard when the gale first took us. As we approached the brinkof the pit he let go his hold upon this, and made for the ring, fromwhich, in the agony of his terror, he endeavored to force my hands, asit was not large enough to afford us both a secure grasp. I never feltdeeper grief than when I saw him attempt this act--although I knew hewas a madman when he did it--a raving maniac through sheer fright. I didnot care, however, to contest the point with him. I knew it could makeno difference whether either of us held on at all, so I let him havethe bolt, and went astern to the cask. This there was no greatdifficulty in doing, for the smack flew round steadily enough, and uponan even keel, only swaying to and fro with the immense sweeps andswelters of the whirl. Scarcely had I secured myself in my new positionwhen we gave a wild lurch to starboard, and rushed headlong into theabyss. I muttered a hurried prayer to God, and thought all was over. 

"As I felt the sickening sweep of the descent I had instinctivelytightened my hold upon the barrel, and closed my eyes. For some secondsI dared not open them, while I expected instant destruction, andwondered that I was not already in my death-struggles with the water. But moment after moment elapsed. I still lived. The sense of falling hadceased; and the motion of the vessel seemed much as it had been beforewhile in the belt of foam, with the exception that she now lay morealong. I took courage, and looked once again upon the scene. 

"Never shall I forget the sensations of awe, horror, and admiration withwhich I gazed about me. The boat appeared to be hanging, as if by magic, midway down, upon the interior surface of a funnel vast incircumference, prodigious in depth, and whose perfectly smooth sidesmight have been mistaken for ebony but for the bewildering rapidity withwhich they spun around, and for the gleaming and ghastly radiance theyshot forth, as the rays of the full moon, from that circular rift amidthe clouds which I have already described, streamed in a flood of goldenglory along the black walls, and far away down into the inmost recessesof the abyss. 

"At first I was too much confused to observe anything accurately. Thegeneral burst of terrific grandeur was all that I beheld. When Irecovered myself a little, however, my gaze fell instinctively downward. In this direction I was able to obtain an unobstructed view from themanner in which the smack hung on the inclined surface of the pool. Shewas quite upon an even keel--that is to say, her deck lay in a planeparallel with that of the water--but this latter sloped at an angle ofmore than forty-five degrees, so that we seemed to be lying upon ourbeam-ends. I could not help observing, nevertheless, that I had scarcelymore difficulty in maintaining my hold and footing in this situationthan if we had been upon a dead level, and this, I suppose, was owing tothe speed at which we revolved. 

"The rays of the moon seemed to search the very bottom of the profoundgulf; but still I could make out nothing distinctly, on account of athick mist in which everything there was enveloped, and over which therehung a magnificent rainbow, like that narrow and tottering bridge whichMussulmen say is the only pathway between Time and Eternity. This mistor spray was no doubt occasioned by the clashing of the great walls ofthe funnel as they all met together at the bottom, but the yell thatwent up to the heavens from out of that mist I dare not attempt todescribe. 

"Our first slide into the abyss itself, from the belt of foam above, hadcarried us a great distance down the slope, but our farther descent wasby no means proportionate. Round and round we swept--not with anyuniform movement--but in dizzying swings and jerks, that sent ussometimes only a few hundred yards--sometimes nearly the completecircuit of the whirl. Our progress downward at each revolution was slowbut very perceptible. 

"Looking about me upon the wide waste of liquid ebony on which we werethus borne, I perceived that our boat was not the only object in theembrace of the whirl. Both above and below us were visible fragments ofvessels, large masses of building timber and trunks of trees, with manysmaller articles, such as pieces of house furniture, broken boxes, barrels, and staves. I have already described the unnatural curiositywhich had taken the place of my original terrors. It appeared to growupon me as I drew nearer and nearer to my dreadful doom. I now began towatch, with a strange interest, the numerous things that floated in ourcompany. I _must_ have been delirious, for I even sought _amusement_ inspeculating upon the relative velocities of their several descentstoward the foam below. 'This fir tree, ' I found myself at one timesaying, 'will certainly be the next thing that takes the awful plungeand disappears'--and then I was disappointed to find that the wreck of aDutch merchant ship overtook it and went down before. At length, aftermaking several guesses of this nature, and being deceived in all, thisfact--the fact of my invariable miscalculation--set me upon a train ofreflection that made my limbs again tremble, and my heart beat heavilyonce more. 

"It was not a new terror that thus affected me, but the dawn of a moreexciting _hope_. This hope arose partly from memory, and partly frompresent observation. I called to mind the great variety of buoyantmatter that strewed the coast of Lofoden, having been absorbed and thenthrown forth by the Moskoe-strom. By far the greater number of thearticles were shattered in the most extraordinary way--so chafed androughened as to have the appearance of being stuck full ofsplinters--but then I distinctly recollected that there were _some_ ofthem which were not disfigured at all. Now I could not account for thisdifference except by supposing that the roughened fragments were theonly ones which had been _completely absorbed_--that the others hadentered the whirl at so late a period of the tide, or, for some reason, had descended so slowly after entering, that they did not reach thebottom before the turn of the flood came, or of the ebb, as the casemight be. I conceived it possible, in either instance, that they mightthus be whirled up again to the level of the ocean, without undergoingthe fate of those which had been drawn in more early, or absorbed morerapidly. I made also three important observations. The first was that, as a general rule, the larger the bodies were, the more rapid theirdescent; the second, that, between two masses of equal extent, the onespherical and the other _of any other shape_, the superiority in speedof descent was with the sphere; the third, that between two masses ofequal size, the one cylindrical and the other of any other shape, thecylinder was absorbed the more slowly. Since my escape I have hadseveral conversations on this subject with an old schoolmaster of thedistrict, and it was from him that I learned the use of the words'cylinder' and 'sphere. ' He explained to me--although I have forgottenthe explanation--how what I observed was in fact the naturalconsequence of the forms of the floating fragments, and showed me how ithappened that a cylinder swimming in a vortex offered more resistance toits suction, and was drawn in with greater difficulty than an equallybulky body of any form whatever. 

"There was one startling circumstance which went a great way inenforcing these observations and rendering me anxious to turn them toaccount, and this was that at every revolution we passed something likea barrel, or else the yard or the mast of a vessel, while many of thesethings which had been on our level when I first opened my eyes upon thewonders of the whirlpool were now high up above us, and seemed to havemoved but little from their original station. 

"I no longer hesitated what to do. I resolved to lash myself securely tothe water-cask upon which I now held, to cut it loose from the counter, and to throw myself with it into the water. I attracted my brother'sattention by signs, pointed to the floating barrels that came near us, and did everything in my power to make him understand what I was aboutto do. I thought at length that he comprehended my design, but, whetherthis was the case or not, he shook his head despairingly, and refused tomove from his station by the ring-bolt. It was impossible to reach him, the emergency admitted of no delay, and so, with a bitter struggle, Iresigned him to his fate, fastened myself to the cask by means of thelashings which secured it to the counter, and precipitated myself withit into the sea without another moment's hesitation. 

"The result was precisely what I had hoped it might be. As it is myselfwho now tell you this tale--as you see that I _did_ escape--and as youare already in possession of the mode in which this escape was effected, and must therefore anticipate all that I have further to say, I willbring my story quickly to conclusion. It might have been an hour orthereabout after my quitting the smack, when, having descended to a vastdistance beneath me, it made three or four wild gyrations in rapidsuccession, and bearing my loved brother with it, plunged headlong atonce and forever into the chaos of foam below. The barrel to which I wasattached sunk very little farther than half the distance between thebottom of the gulf and the spot at which I leaped overboard, before agreat change took place in the character of the whirlpool. The slope ofthe sides of the vast funnel became momently less and less steep. Thegyrations of the whirl grew gradually less and less violent. By degreesthe froth and the rainbow disappeared, and the bottom of the gulf seemedslowly to uprise. The sky was clear, the winds had gone down, and thefull moon was setting radiantly in the west, when I found myself on thesurface of the ocean, in full view of the shores of Lofoden, and abovethe spot where the pool of the Moskoe-strom _had been_. It was the hourof the slack--but the sea still heaved in mountainous waves from theeffects of the hurricane. I was borne violently into the channel of theStrom, and in a few minutes was hurried down the coast into the'grounds' of the fishermen. A boat picked me up, exhausted from fatigueand (now that the danger was removed) speechless from the memory of itshorror. Those who drew me on board were my old mates and dailycompanions, but they knew me no more than they would have known atraveler from the spirit-land. My hair, which had been raven-black theday before, was as white as you see it now. They say, too, that thewhole expression of my countenance had changed. I told them mystory--they did not believe it. I now tell it to _you_, and I canscarcely expect you to put more faith in it than did the merry fishermenof Lofoden. "

 _A Descent into the Maelstrom_ is a remarkable example of forcible description as well as of artistic skill in the setting. 

 I. The first third of the story is an introduction to the main tale. The story itself might seem to be sufficiently exciting, but it would have much less power if it began where the old man commences to tell the tale. Notice what Poe throws into his introduction:

 1. He represents the tale as told to himself by an old man with white hair, weakened limbs and unstrung nerves that tremble at the least exertion. The old man claims to be frightened at a shadow, yet he is able to throw himself down to rest with the weightier portion of his body hanging over a precipice and held back from the slippery edge of the cliff of black shining rock, some sixteen hundred feet high, merely by the power of his elbows thrust into the earth. The position is so perilous that the hearer throws himself at full length upon the ground, clinging to the shrubs around him and scarcely daring to glance upward at the sky. Besides the precarious position in which the men are placed, fierce winds that seem to shake the very foundations of the mountain cause thrills of terror to the onlooker. 

 2. The guide points out the scene of his terrible experience. 

 3. The author describes the sea, the islands and the location of the whirlpool. 

 4. Then follows a description of the water in the conflicting channels. 

 5. Suddenly the circular whirlpool appears, and from the awful height the observers are able to look down into the mouth of the terrific funnel. 

 6. More description follows, showing what happens to objects caught within the fierce grasp of the revolving waters. 

 7. Reference is made to ancient accounts of the whirlpool. 

 8. He makes some effort to explain the causes which would produce such fearful currents so furiously in action, but finds himself unable to arrive at a satisfactory explanation. 

 Such sights, such a discussion, such a perilous position in which to listen, make the hearer susceptible to the slightest impression. 

 II. The story proper is told in the most convincing, matter-of-fact way, yet we are conscious all the time that the language of the old man is rather that of a trained writer than of an ignorant fisherman, and here Poe sacrifices the personality of his hero to vividness of incident. What he wishes to accomplish is to impress us with a terrible experience. He does not care to make us see the narrator as a man, yet the story is not devoid of touches of strong human interest; if it were it would be less powerful. The fisherman and his brothers will not take with them their sons on their perilous fishing trip. The youngest brother is carried away in the first blast of the tempest with the mainmast to which he had bound himself. The oldest brother selfishly drives our hero from the ring in the deck. 

 There are remarkable touches of realism in the story. It was just seven by the old man's watch when they started for home; later, when the tempest is upon them, it is discovered that the watch had run down at seven o'clock, and they are behind the time of the slack water in the whirlpool. 

 III. Vividly descriptive phrases abound in the narration, and figures of speech give powerful interest to the imagination. 

 "We came with a sweep, a slide, and a plunge, that made me feel sick and dizzy, as if I was falling from some lofty mountain-top in a dream. "

 "The roaring noise of the water was completely drowned in a kind of shrill shriek--such a sound as you might imagine given out by the waste-pipes of many thousand steam-vessels letting off their steam all together. "

 "How foolish it was in me to think of so paltry a consideration as my own individual life in view of so wonderful a manifestation of God's power. "

 "We were now, in a great measure, rid of these annoyances--just as death-condemned felons in prison are allowed petty indulgences, forbidden them while their doom is yet uncertain. "

 IV. It is meant that our interest should center in the story itself. Accordingly, when the narrator has finished his tale the story is finished. We are not further interested in the listener, or in the old man. 

 V. It is almost unnecessary to say that the tale is pure fiction, and an example of brilliant exaggeration. As a matter of fact the maelstrom is a whirlpool lying where Poe places it, and it has been made noted by many other accounts than this of Poe, most of which are exaggerated, but none of them so brilliant in execution as Poe's. The difference between high tide and low tide in this vicinity is very great, and every twelve hours vast masses of water must be moved into the fiord and out again through narrow channels and rough rocks. The currents resulting are dangerous to navigation, and there are numerous whirlpools and eddies besides the great maelstrom itself. Ordinarily, however, ships traverse the passage without danger; but when in conjunction with high tide the winds blow fiercely, the sea for miles around becomes highly perilous to small vessels. 

PERE MARQUETTE

_By_ JARED SPARKS[121-1]

It is generally believed that the Mississippi River was first discoveredby Ferdinand de Soto, as early as 1541. The accounts of his expeditionin Florida are so highly exaggerated, so indefinite, and in many partsso obviously false, that little more can be inferred from them, thanthat he passed far into the country, had many combats with the natives, and finally died in the interior. The probability is so strong, however, that he and his party actually crossed the Mississippi, that it hasusually been assumed as a historical fact. 

The first Europeans, however, who are certainly known to have discoveredand explored this river, were two Frenchmen, Father Marquette[121-2] andM. Joliet, in the year 1673. Marquette was a native of Picardy, andCharlevoix calls him "one of the most illustrious missionaries of NewFrance, " adding, that he travelled widely, and made many discoveriesbesides that of the Mississippi. He had resided some time in Canada, andattained a proficiency in the languages of the principal native tribeswho resided in the regions bordering on the Upper Lakes. The firstsettlement of the old town of Michillimackinac, in 1671, is ascribed tohis exertions and influence. 

The Indians had given many accounts of a great river at the west, whichflowed southwardly, and which they called _Mississipy_, as the word iswritten by Marquette. It became a matter of curious speculation, whatcourse this river pursued, and at what place it disembogued itself intothe sea. There were three opinions on this subject. First, that it rantowards the southwest, and entered the Gulf of California; secondly, that it flowed into the Gulf of Mexico; and thirdly, that it found itsway in a more easterly direction, and discharged itself into theAtlantic Ocean somewhere on the coast of Virginia. The question was notless important in a commercial and political view, than interesting as ageographical problem. 

To establish the point, and to make such other discoveries asopportunities would admit, M. De Frontenac, the governor of Canada, encouraged an expedition to be undertaken. The persons to whom it wasintrusted, were M. Joliet, then residing at Quebec, and FatherMarquette, who was at Michillimackinac, or in the vicinity of thatplace. Marquette wrote an account of his tour, and voyage down theMississippi, which was sent to France, and published eight yearsafterwards in Paris. From this account the following particulars arechiefly taken. In some parts the translation is nearly literal, and allthe prominent facts are retained. 

On the 13th of May, 1673, Father Marquette and M. Joliet, with fiveother Frenchmen, embarked in two canoes, with a small provision ofIndian corn and smoked meat, having previously acquired from the Indiansall the intelligence they could afford respecting their proposedroute. [123-3]

The first nation[123-4] through which they passed, was the _FollesAvoines_ (Wild Rice), [123-5] so called from the grain of that name, which abounds in the rivers and marshy lands. This plant is described asgrowing about two feet above the water, resembling European oats, and isgathered by the savages during the month of September. The ears aredried, separated from the chaff, and prepared for food either bypounding into meal, or simply boiling the grain in water. 

The natives, having been made acquainted by Father Marquette with hisdesign of visiting the most remote nations, and preaching to them theGospel, did their utmost to dissuade him from it, representing thecruelty of some of the tribes, and their warlike state, the dangerousnavigation of the river, the dreadful monsters that were found in it, and, finally, the excessive heat of the climate. 

He thanked them for their good advice, but declined following it;assuring them, that, to secure the success of his undertaking, he wouldgladly give his life; that he felt no fear of the monsters theydescribed; and that their information would only oblige him to keep moreon his guard against surprise. After having prayed, and given them someinstructions, he parted from them, and arrived at the _Bay ofPuans_, [124-6] now called Green Bay, where considerable progress hadbeen made by the French priests in the conversion of the Indians. 

The name of this bay has a less unpleasant meaning in the Indian, thanin the French language, signifying also _salt bay_, which induced FatherMarquette to make strict researches for salt springs in this vicinity, but without success. He concluded, therefore, that the name was given toit in consequence of the ooze and mud deposited there, from whence, ashe thought, arise vapors, that produce frequent and violent thunderstorms. He speaks of this bay as about thirty leagues long and eightleagues wide at its entrance, gradually contracting towards its head, where the flux and reflux of the tides, much like those of the sea, maybe easily observed. 

Leaving this bay, they ascended the river, since known as Fox River, that empties into it. At its mouth, he says, the river is broad anddeep, and flows gently; but, as you advance, its course is interruptedby rapids and rocks; which he passed, however, in safety. It aboundswith bustards, [125-7] ducks, and teal, attracted by the wild rice, whichgrows there. 

Approaching the village of _Maskoutins_, [125-8] or _nation of fire_, hehad the curiosity to taste the mineral water of a stream in itsvicinity. The village consisted of three several nations, namely, _Miamis_, _Maskoutins_, and _Kikabeaux_. The first were the mostfriendly and liberal, and the finest looking men. Their hair was longover their ears. They were good warriors, successful in theirexpeditions, docile, and fond of instruction. They were so eager tolisten to Father Allouez, [125-9] when he was among them, that theyallowed him no repose, even in the night. The Maskoutins and Kikabeauxwere coarser, and less civilized; their wigwams were constructed ofrushes (birch bark being scarce in this country), and might be rolled upin bundles and carried where they pleased. 

In visiting these people, Father Marquette was much gratified at seeinga large cross erected in the center of the village, decorated withthank-offerings to the Great Spirit, for their success during the lastwinter. The situation of the village was striking and beautiful, itbeing built on an eminence, whence the eye overlooked on all sides aboundless extent of prairie, interspersed with groves and forests. Thesoil was good, producing abundantly Indian corn, grapes, and plums. 

Immediately on their arrival, Father Marquette and M. Joliet assembledthe chiefs, and explained to them the objects of their expedition, expressing their determination to proceed at all risks, and making themsome presents. They requested the assistance of two guides, to put themin their way; which request the natives readily granted, returning fortheir presents a mat, which served them as a bed during the voyage. Thenext day, being the 10th of June, the two Miamis, their guides, embarkedwith them in sight of all the inhabitants of the village who looked withastonishment on the hardihood of seven Frenchmen in undertaking such anexpedition. 

They knew that within three leagues of the Maskoutins was a river, whichdischarged itself into the Mississippi; and further, that their coursemust be west southwest; but so many marshes and small lakes intervened, that the route was intricate; the more so, as the river was overgrownwith wild rice, which obstructed the channel to such a degree, that itwas difficult to follow it. On this account their guides were necessary, who conducted them safely to a portage, which was about two thousandseven hundred paces across. [126-10] The guides aided them intransporting their canoes over the portage to the river, which rantowards the west, and then they left them and returned. 

The travellers quitted the waters, which flow towards Quebec, five orsix hundred leagues from that place, and embarked on an unknownstream. [127-11] This river was called _Mescousin_ (Wisconsin). It wasvery broad, but its bottom was sandy, and the navigation was rendereddifficult by the shoals. [127-12] It was full of islands, overgrown withvines; and the fertile banks through which it flowed were interspersedwith woods, prairies, and groves of nut, oak, and other trees. Numbersof bucks and buffaloes were seen, but no other animals. Within thirtyleagues of their place of embarkation, they found iron mines, whichappeared abundant and of a good quality. After continuing their routefor forty leagues, they arrived at the mouth of the river, in forty-twodegrees and a half of latitude;[127-13] and on the 17th of June, theyentered with great joy the waters of the Mississippi. 

This river derives its source from several lakes in the north. At themouth of the Mescousin its channel was narrow, and it flowed onwardswith a gentle current. On the right was seen a chain of highmountains, [127-14] and on the left fertile fields interrupted byislands in many places. They slowly followed the course of the stream tothe south and southwest, until, in forty-two degrees oflatitude, [128-15] they perceived a sensible change in the surroundingcountry. There were but few hills and forests. The islands were coveredwith beautiful trees. [128-16]

From the time of leaving their guides, they descended the two riversmore than one hundred leagues, without discovering any other inhabitantsof the forest, than birds and beasts. They were always on their guard, kindling a fire on the shore towards evening, to cook their food, andafterwards anchoring their canoes in the middle of the stream during thenight. They proceeded thus for more than sixty leagues[128-17] from theplace where they entered the Mississippi, when, on the 25th of June, they perceived on the bank of the river the footsteps of men, and awell-beaten path leading into a beautiful prairie. They landed, and, leaving the canoes under the guard of their boatmen, Father Marquetteand M. Joliet set forth to make discoveries. After silently followingthe path for about two leagues, they perceived a village, situate on themargin of a river, and two others on a hill, within half a league ofthe first. As they approached nearer, they gave notice of their arrivalby a loud call. Hearing the noise, the Indians came out of their cabins, and, having looked at the strangers for a while, they deputed four oftheir elders to talk with them, who slowly advanced. Two of them broughtpipes ornamented with feathers, which, without speaking, they elevatedtowards the sun, as a token of friendship. Gaining assurance from thisceremony, Father Marquette addressed them, inquiring of what nation theywere. They answered, that they were Illinois, and, offering their pipes, invited the strangers to enter the village; where they were receivedwith every mark of attention, conducted to the cabin of the chief, andcomplimented on their arrival by the natives, who gathered round them, gazing in silence. 

[Illustration: THE GIFT OF THE CALUMET]

After they were seated, the calumet[130-18] was presented to them, andwhile the old men were smoking for their entertainment, the chief of allthe Illinois tribes sent them an invitation to attend a council at hisvillage. They were treated by him with great kindness, and FatherMarquette, having explained to him the motives of this voyage, enforcingeach part of his speech with a present, the chief in reply expressed hisapprobation; but urged him, in the name of the whole nation, not toincur the risks of a further voyage, and rewarded his presents by thegift of a calumet. 

The council was followed by a feast, consisting of four courses, fromeach of which they were fed with much ceremony; and afterwards they wereconducted in state through the village, receiving many presents ofgirdles and garters from the natives. The following day, they took leaveof the chief, promising to return in four moons, and were accompanied totheir canoes, with every demonstration of joy, by more than six hundredsavages. 

Before leaving this nation, Father Marquette remarked some of theirpeculiarities. The name _Illinois_, in the native language, signifies_men_, as if implying thereby, that other tribes are brutes incomparison, which in some sense Father Marquette thought to be true, asthey were more civilized than most of the tribes. Their language, on theborders of the river, was a dialect of the _Algonquin_, and wasunderstood by Father Marquette. In the form of their bodies the Illinoiswere light and active. They were skilful in the use of arms, brave, butmild and tractable in disposition. They were entirely ignorant of theuse of leather, and iron tools, their weapons being made of stone, andtheir clothing of the skins of wild beasts. The soil was rich andproductive, and game abundant. 

After this peaceful interview with the natives, the voyagers embarkedagain, and passed down the stream, looking out for the river_Pekitanoni_ (Missouri), which empties into the Mississippi from thenorthwest. 

They observed high and steep rocks, on the face of which were thefigures of two monsters, which appeared as if painted in green, red, andblue colors; frightful in appearance, but so well executed, as to leaveFather Marquette in doubt, whether they could be the work of savages, they being also at so great a height on the rocks as to be inaccessibleto a painter. [131-19]

As they floated quietly down a clear and placid stream, conversing aboutthe figures they had just passed, they were interrupted by the sound ofrapids before them; and a mass of floating timber, trunks and branchesof trees, was swept from the mouth of the Pekitanoni with such a degreeof violence, as to render the passage dangerous. So great was theagitation, that the water was thereby made very muddy, and it did notagain become clear. [132-20] The Pekitanoni is described as a large riverflowing into the Mississippi from the northwest, with several villageson its banks. 

At this place Father Marquette decided, that, unless the Mississippialtered its previous course, it must empty its waters into the Gulf ofMexico; and he conjectured from the accounts of the natives, that, byfollowing the stream of the Pekitanoni, a river would be discovered, which flowed into the Gulf of California. [132-21]

About twenty leagues south of the Pekitanoni, and a little more to thesoutheast, they discovered the mouth of another river, called_Ouabouskigou_ (Ohio), in the latitude of thirty-six degrees; a shortdistance above which, they came to a place formidable to the savages, who, believing it the residence of a demon, had warned Father Marquetteof its dangers. It proved nothing more than a ledge of rocks, thirtyfeet high, against which the waves, being contracted by an island, ranwith violence, and, being thrown back with a loud noise, flowed rapidlyon through a narrow and unsafe channel. 

The Ouabouskigou came from the eastward, where the country was thicklyinhabited by the tribe of _Chuouanons_, a harmless and peaceful people, much annoyed by the Iroquois, who were said to capture them as slaves, and kill and torture them cruelly. 

A little above the entrance of this river were steep banks, in which theboatmen discovered iron ore, several veins of which were visible, abouta foot in thickness, portions of it adhering to the flint-stones; andalso a species of rich earth, of three different colors, namely, purple, violet and red, and a very heavy red sand, some of which, being laid onan oar, left a stain during fifteen days. They here first saw tallreeds, or canes, growing on the shores, and began to find the_maringouins_ (mosquitoes) very troublesome; the attacks of which, withthe heat of the weather, obliged the voyagers to construct an awning ofthe sails of their canoes. 

Shortly afterwards they saw savages armed with muskets, waiting theirapproach on the bank of the river. While the boatmen prepared for adefence, Father Marquette presented his calumet and addressed them inHuron, to which they gave no answer, but made signals to them to land, and accept some food. They consequently disembarked, and, entering theircabins, were presented with buffalo's meat, bear's oil, and fine plums. These savages had guns, hatchets, knives, hoes and glass bottles fortheir gunpowder. They informed Father Marquette, that he was within tendays' journey of the sea; that they purchased their goods of Europeans, who came from the east, that these Europeans had images and beads, played on many instruments, and were dressed like himself; and that theyhad treated them with much kindness. As they had no knowledge ofChristianity, the worthy Father gave them what instruction he could, andmade them a present of some medals. Encouraged by the informationreceived from these savages, the party proceeded with renewed ardor ontheir voyage, between banks covered with thick forests, that interceptedtheir view of the prairies; in which, however, they heard at no greatdistance the bellowing of buffaloes. They also saw quails upon theshores, and shot a small parrot. 

They had nearly reached the thirty-third degree of latitude, [134-22]steering toward the south, when they discovered a village on the river'sside, called _Metchigamea_. The natives, armed with bows and arrows, clubs, and tomahawks, prepared to attack them; some in canoes, trying tointercept their course, others remaining on shore. Father Marquette invain presented his calumet of peace. They were ready to attack, when theelders, perceiving at last the calumet, commanded the young warriors tostop, and, throwing their arms at the feet of the strangers, as a signof peace, entered their canoes, and constrained them to land, though notwithout some uneasiness. 

As the savages were not acquainted with any of the six languages spokenby Father Marquette, he addressed them by signs, until an old man wasfound, who understood a little Illinois. Through this interpreter, heexplained their intention of going to the borders of the sea, and gavethe natives some religious instruction. In reply they answered thatwhatever information he desired might be obtained at _Akamsca_(Arkansas), a village ten leagues lower down the river; and presentedthem with food. After passing a night of some anxiety, they embarked thefollowing morning with their interpreter; a canoe with ten savagespreceding them. About half a league from Akamsca, they were met by twocanoes full of Indians, the chief of whom presented his calumet, andconducted them to the shore, where they were hospitably received andsupplied with provisions. Here they found a young man well acquaintedwith the Illinois language, and through him Father Marquette addressedthe natives, making them the usual presents, and requesting informationfrom them respecting the sea. They answered, that it was within fivedays' journey of Akamsca, that they knew nothing of the inhabitants onits borders, being prevented by their enemies from holding intercoursewith these Europeans; that their knives and other weapons were purchasedpartly from the eastern nations, and partly from a tribe of Illinois, tothe westward; that the armed savages whom the travellers had met, weretheir enemies; that they were continually on the river between thatplace and the sea; and that, if the voyagers proceeded further, greatdanger might be apprehended from them. After this communication, foodwas offered, and the rest of the day was spent in feasting. 

These people were friendly and hospitable, but poor, although theirIndian corn produced three abundant crops in a year, which FatherMarquette saw in its different stages of growth. It was prepared forfood in pots, which, with plates and other utensils, were neatly made ofbaked earth by the Indians. Their language was so very difficult, thatFather Marquette despaired of being able to pronounce a word of it. Their climate in winter was rainy, but they had no snow, and the soilwas extremely fertile. 

During the evening the old men held a secret council. Some of themproposed to murder the strangers, and seize their effects. The chief, however, overruled this advice, and, sending for Father Marquette and M. Joliet, invited them to attend a dance of the calumet, which heafterwards presented to them as a sign of peace. 

The good Father and his companions began now to consider what furthercourse they should pursue. As it was supposed that the Gulf of Mexicoextended as far north as thirty-one degrees and forty minutes, theybelieved themselves not to be more than two or three days' journey fromit, [136-23] and it appeared to them certain, that the Mississippi mustempty itself into that gulf, and not into the sea through Virginia, atthe eastward, because the coast of Virginia was in the latitude ofthirty-four degrees, at which they had already arrived; nor yet into theGulf of California, at the southwest, because they had found the courseof the river to be invariably south. Being thus persuaded that the mainobject of their expedition was attained; and considering, moreover, thatthey were unable to resist the armed savages, who infested the lowerparts of the river, and that, should they fall into the hands of theSpaniards, the fruits of their voyage and discoveries would be lost, they resolved to proceed no further, and, having informed the nativesof their determination and rested another day, they prepared for theirreturn. 

[Illustration: AT THE PORTAGE]

After a month's navigation on the Mississippi, having followed itscourse from the forty-second to the thirty-fourth degree of latitude, they left the village of Akamsca, on the 17th of July, to return up theriver. They retraced their way, slowly ascending the stream, until, inabout the thirty-eighth degree of latitude, they turned into anotherriver (Illinois), which abridged their route and brought them directlyto Lake _Illinois_ (Michigan). They were struck with the fertility ofthe country through which that river flowed, the beauty of the forestsand prairies, the variety of the game, and the numerous small lakes andstreams which they saw. The river was broad and deep, and navigable forsixty-five leagues, there being, in the season of spring and part of thesummer, only half a league of portage between its waters and thoseflowing into Lake Illinois. On its banks they found a village, theinhabitants of which received them kindly, and, on their departure, extorted a promise from Father Marquette to return and instructthem. [138-24] One of the chiefs, accompanied by the young men, conductedthem as far as the lake; whence they proceeded to the Bay of Puans, where they arrived near the end of September, having been absent aboutfour months. [138-25]

[Illustration: ON THE MISSISSIPPI]

Such is the substance of Father Marquette's narrative; and the whole ofit accords so remarkably with the descriptions of subsequent travellers, and with the actual features of the country through which he passed, asto remove every doubt of its genuineness. The melancholy fate of theauthor, which followed soon afterwards, was probably the reason why hisexpedition was not in a more conspicuous manner brought before thepublic. [139-26]

In addition to this narrative, nothing is known of Marquette, exceptwhat is said of him by Charlevoix. After returning from this lastexpedition, he took up his residence, and pursued the vocation of amissionary, among the Miamis in the neighborhood of Chicago. [139-27]While passing by water along the eastern shore of Lake Michigan towardsMichillimackinac, he entered a small river, on the 18th of May, 1675. [139-28] Having landed, he constructed an altar, performed mass, and then retired a short distance into the wood, requesting the two men, who had charge of his canoe, to leave him alone for half an hour. Whenthe time had elapsed, the men went to seek for him and found him dead. They were greatly surprised, as they had not discovered any symptoms ofillness; but they remembered, that, when he was entering the river, heexpressed a presentiment that his voyage would end there. To this daythe river retains the name of _Marquette_. The place of his grave, nearits bank, is still pointed out to the traveller; but his remains wereremoved the year after his death to Michillimackinac. [140-29]

FOOTNOTES:

[121-1] Jared Sparks was born in 1789, and was one of the mostindustrious of our early historians, for he collected documents, editedthem, and wrote untiringly on American biography. Some of his work isnot considered very reliable, but he contributed a great deal ofvaluable information in rather a pleasing way. This sketch ofMarquette's expedition is particularly interesting, as he followed soclosely the report of the great missionary. 

[121-2] Father Marquette, the famous Jesuit explorer and missionary, wasborn in France in 1637. He was sent as a missionary to Canada, and in1668 founded the mission of Sault Sainte Marie. In 1673, when he wasordered by Count Frontenac to join Joliet and find and explore theMississippi, he was in charge of a new mission at Mackinaw. 

[123-3] "The joy that we felt at being selected for This Expeditionanimated our Courage, and rendered the labor of paddling from morning tonight agreeable to us. "--MARQUETTE. 

[123-4] The wild rice people were the Menominees, who lived on the riverthat now bears that name and which forms part of the boundary betweenWisconsin and Michigan. Father Marquette went out of his way to seethese friendly Indians, whose name Menominee means simply _wild rice_. 

[123-5] This wild rice still grows in the streams and lakes of northernWisconsin and Michigan, still clogs the courses of the rivers and isstill gathered by the scattered Indians of that vicinity. 

[124-6] The name _puans_ in French signifies _ill-smelling_. 

[125-7] There are no bustards in North America. The writer probably sawwild geese with the ducks. 

[125-8] It is not known certainly where this village was located, but itmay have been near the present city of Berlin or Princeton. 

[125-9] Father Allouez arrived at the Sault Sainte Marie in 1668, andwas engaged in missionary work between lakes Superior and Michigan. Itis probable that he had visited the Indians the year before. 

[126-10] The Fox and Wisconsin river systems approach within a mile anda half of each other at Portage, Wisconsin. The land is low and swampy, and in flood times the current sometimes sets from one river into theother. The government constructed a canal across this narrow divide, which, you see. Marquette described and measured quite accurately. 

[127-11] Marquette writes: "Thus we left the Waters flowing to Quebec, four or five hundred leagues from here, to float on those that wouldthenceforth take us through strange lands. Before embarking thereon, webegan all together a new devotion to the blessed Virgin Immaculate, which we practiced daily, addressing to her special prayers to placeunder her protection, both our persons and the success of our voyage;and, after mutually encouraging one another, we entered our Canoes. "

[127-12] Now, as then, the shifting sand bars make navigation of theWisconsin difficult and impracticable, although the government has spentlarge sums of money in trying to improve it. 

[127-13] The latitude Marquette gives is about right. 43° is practicallycorrect. 

[127-14] "High mountains, " as we now understand the phrase, is anexaggerated term to apply to the bold bluffs about three or four hundredfeet high on the Iowa side of the Mississippi, south of McGregor. 

[128-15] This is a little south of Savanna, Ill. , if Marquette'slatitude is right. 

[128-16] Sparks has not given us the whole of the famous journal. Amongother interesting things in this connection Marquette writes: "When wecast our nets into the water we caught sturgeon, and a veryextraordinary kind of fish. It resembles the trout, with thisdifference, that its mouth is larger. Near its nose--which is smaller, as are also the eyes--is a large bone, shaped like a woman'scorset-bone, three fingers wide and a cubit long, at the end of which isa disk as wide as one's hand. This frequently causes it to fall backwardwhen it leaps out of the water. " This was the paddle fish, or spoonbillsturgeon. 

[128-17] This was in about 41° latitude. 

[130-18] The _calumet_ was a pipe that usually consisted of a bowl ofred stone and a long reed stem. In this the Indians smoked tobacco, passing the pipe from one to another in token of peace and friendship. To hold up the calumet was a signal of peace. 

[131-19] These monsters Marquette further described thus: "They are aslarge as a Calf, they have Horns on their heads like those of deer, ahorrible look, red eyes, a beard like a tiger's, a face somewhat like aman's, a body covered with scales, and so long a tail that it winds allaround the body, passing above the head and going back between the legs, ending in a fish's tail. " These figures were on the face of a bluff nearAlton, Ill. 

[132-20] What Father Marquette did not understand was, that the Missouribrought the mud from far to the northwest and poured it into the clearerwaters of the Mississippi. The character of the rivers has not changedin this respect. 

[132-21] To us this seems a curious supposition, and Father Marquettehad little idea what it would mean to the hardy explorer who should goup the Missouri, cross the mountains and find the head waters of theColorado. Trace such a route on a map of the United States, and read anaccount of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. 

[134-22] This was near the mouth of the Saint Francis River, inArkansas. 

[136-23] As a matter of fact, they were more than seven hundred milesfrom the gulf. 

[138-24] This village was called Kaskaskia, and was situated about sevenmiles below the present city of Ottawa. There was another Kaskaskia tothe south and west that became more famous. 

[138-25] This journey must have been about twenty-five hundred mileslong, and when we consider the smallness of the party, the frailty oftheir two boats and the savage wildness of both the country and itsinhabitants, the accomplishment seems one of the greatest in the historyof American exploration. 

[139-26] In this connection it is interesting to know that Joliet, whowas really the explorer in charge of the expedition, spent the winterpreparing a full report of his journey, which he illustrated withcarefully drawn maps, and in the spring started for Quebec with them. Inpassing through La Chine Rapids his canoe was wrecked, and Joliet barelyescaped with his life. His precious reports and maps were lost in therushing waters. Father Marquette's comparatively brief journal and hismap form the only original records of the expedition, and they arepreserved at St. Mary's College, Montreal. The humble priest who soughtonly to carry his religion to the savages becomes the historian, whilethe ambitious explorer is hardly remembered in connection with thewonderful journey. 

[139-27] Always delicate, his health was grievously broken by his severelabors and privation, and his efforts to keep his promise to theIllinois were attended by terrible sufferings. The winter was passed ina bleak hut, and on his return journey he was not able to walk much ofthe time. 

[139-28] This river was the one on which the city of Ludington, Michigan, is now built. 

[140-29] The final resting place of the bones of Marquette is the littlevillage of Saint Agnace, in the mainland of the northern peninsula ofMichigan, west of Mackinac Island. A simple monument in the midst of alittle park marks his grave. 

[Illustration]

THE FALL OF THE ALAMO

Texas began its struggle for independence from Mexico in September, 1835, driven to it by the fact that under the rule of the new republictheir treatment was little better than it had been while Mexico herselfwas under the Spanish control. No sooner, however, had the Texansdeclared their independence than General Cos led a large detachment intothe state and determined to drive out of it those Americans who hadsettled there. The Mexican general met with so fierce a resistance thathe was compelled to take refuge behind the walls of the Alamo in SanAntonio de Bexar. [141-1] He had seventeen hundred men, but in spite ofthis fact the two hundred and sixteen Texans under General Burlisonstormed the place, captured the Mexican general and sent him underparole to his brother-in-law, the famous Santa Ana. [141-2]

A garrison of about a hundred and sixty men under the joint command ofColonel Travis[142-3] and Colonel Bowie[142-4] was in the Alamo inFebruary of 1836. About this time there came to the Alamo DavidCrockett[142-5] of Tennessee, a famous hunter, warrior and politician, who had already represented his district in Congress, where hedistinguished himself by his rough and powerful oratory. 

On the afternoon of February 22nd, a large force of Mexicans underGeneral Santa Ana arrived at San Antonio, and the next morning demandedan unconditional surrender of the fort and its garrison. Although theTexans were taken almost completely by surprise, Travis answered thedemand with a cannon shot, and the Mexicans raised the red flag whichsignified "no quarter. "

The next morning the following proclamation was issued by ColonelTravis:

 "To the people of Texas and all Americans of the world. "Commandancy of the Alamo, Bexar, "February 24, 1836. 

"Fellow Citizens and Compatriots, --I am besieged by a thousand or moreof the Mexicans under Santa Ana. I have sustained a continuedbombardment and cannonade for twenty-four hours and have not lost a man. The enemy have demanded a surrender at discretion; otherwise thegarrison is to be put to the sword if the fort is taken. I have answeredthe summons with a cannon shot, and our flag still waves proudly fromthe walls. I shall never surrender or retreat. Then I call on you in thename of liberty, patriotism, and everything dear to the Americancharacter, to come to our aid with all despatch. The enemy are receivingreënforcements daily, and will no doubt increase to three or fourthousand in four or five days. Though this call may be neglected, I amdetermined to sustain myself as long as possible, and die like a soldierwho never forgets what is due to his own honour and that of his country. Victory or death!

 "(Signed) W. BARRETT TRAVIS, "Lieut. -Col. Com't. "

When the Mexicans were first seen in San Antonio the defenders of theAlamo were thrown into a panic, for no one dreamed that enemies were inthe vicinity; yet no one of the hardy garrison thought of flight, andafter the first surprise was over, order was quickly restored andeverything put in readiness for a bitter contest. The possible conflictof authority between Colonel Bowie and Colonel Travis was prevented bythe fact that the former had been stricken with pneumonia and was lyingin the hospital, a very sick man. 

It was soon found that the siege lines of the enemy were not so closebut that messengers might be sent through. One or two privates weredespatched to bring assistance, but none succeeded in doing so. On thetwenty-ninth of February it was resolved to send Captain Seguin, whospoke Spanish fluently, and who might by his own personal influenceaccomplish what the simple messages alone seemed unable to do. Seguinhad no horse of his own, so he went to Colonel Bowie and borrowed hisequipment, though the latter was so ill that he scarcely recognized theman who made the request. After a perilous ride, in which they werefired upon by the Mexicans, Seguin and his single aid succeeded inreaching the camp of volunteers which was forming at Gonzales. Here heinduced thirty-six men to leave the camp and proceed to the Alamo, whichthey entered, thus raising the number of defenders to about a hundredand ninety. On the third of March, [144-6] Travis sent another courierwith a letter to his governor. In this he stated the situation calmly, urged him to assist him, and closed with the following words: "Thebearer of this will give your honorable body a statement more in detail, should he escape through the enemies' lines. _God and Texas! Victory ordeath. _"

For about ten days Travis held the little fort under a storm of cannonballs, which really were more alarming than destructive, for few, ifany, of the defenders were killed or wounded. Travis felt that they hadbeen almost miraculously preserved, and in all the hardy company wasborn a feeling that they could not lose in this terribly one-sidedcontest. Every day they looked to the northward, hoping to see reliefcoming, and every night turned in disappointment to the little rest thatwas allowed them. They fought manfully, wasting no ammunition and makingevery shot count. Until the final assault, the execution done by theguns was overwhelmingly in favor of the Texans. 

The Mexicans had fixed on the morning of the sixth of March for thefinal assault. Their infantry met, between midnight and dawn, atconvenient distances from the fort, in four columns. To each column wasassigned a commanding officer with a second to take his place in casethe first was disabled. Some of the columns were provided with scalingladders, axes and other implements by which they might mount the wall oropen breaches in it. The cavalry was stationed at different pointssurrounding the fort, so that they would be able to cut off anyfugitives who might escape from the fort. The attack was probably led byGeneral Castrillon, a Spaniard, who had already had a brilliant militarycareer. 

[Illustration: THE MEXICANS STORM THE FORT]

It is not thought that Santa Ana engaged personally in the assault, asit is known that before the advance was made, he was stationed withseveral bands of music and a batterv about five hundred yards south ofthe Alamo, and that from this point he gave the bugle-signal for theadvance. At double-quick time the columns advanced simultaneouslyagainst the little fort, one rushing through a breach which had alreadybeen made in the walls at the north, a second storming the chapel and athird scaling the west barrier. 

General Cos, who had been captured by the Texans the year before and whowas released on parole, broke his word of honor and led the stormingcolumn against the chapel. All this had been so planned that the severalcolumns should reach the walls of the fort just as the coming dawn gavelight enough to guide their movements. When the hour came, the buglesounded, and the Mexicans, maddened by their losses and determined toavenge themselves on this courageous little troop, rushed forward to thewalls while their bands played the assassin music that signified "noquarter. "

It is difficult to give an orderly account of the conflict whichfollowed, but some incidents stand out boldly. General Cos was repulsedfrom the chapel, and the column which attacked the north wall was badlycut before it succeeded in making an entrance. Here at the breach theymet Colonel Travis in person, and here after the action he was founddead with a bullet hole through his head, and by his side a Mexicanofficer pierced to the heart by a sword still held in the hand of thedead Texan. On the west side the walls were scaled, and after bitterfighting the garrison, driven from the outer defenses, took refuge inthe low barracks and other buildings, where, being more united, theycould fight to better advantage. However, there was no easy means ofcommunication between the buildings, and thus the surviving Texans soonwere broken up into small groups, fighting desperately against theoverwhelming numbers of the Mexicans. There was no need of leadership, however, or of direction from officers. The Mexicans purposed to allowno quarter, and nothing remained for the Texans except that each manshould fight to the last, doing as great execution as he could beforefinally falling under the weight of numbers. 

[Illustration: THE DEFENDERS FIRING FROM WINDOWS]

Again and again the enemy charged upon the little buildings, while fromthe windows and loop-holes the crack of rifles and the whiz of bulletsshowed that the living defenders were still active. It is notexaggerating to say that the assailants fell in heaps, for around eachlittle building and before the long barracks the carnage was dreadful. One by one, however, the buildings were carried at the point of thebayonet, and the little groups of Texans broken up and destroyed. 

The last point to yield was the chapel, which seems to have been held bya somewhat larger force than any of the other buildings. However, afterthe parade grounds were cleared and the other companies destroyed, itwas possible to burn the most of the fort and thus batter it down andkill its brave defenders. 

It is said that toward the close of the struggle in the chapel, Lieutenant Dickinson was seen to leap from one of the windows with asmall child in his arms, and that both were shot as they leaped. Thiswas perhaps the last act in the great tragedy, for if any were alive inthe chapel after the lieutenant made his attempted escape, they werequickly bayonetted where they stood. 

With the dead and dying strewn around, Santa Ana entered the fort. Whathe saw there, we cannot attempt to describe, but a few things we mustmention. In his own room they found Colonel Bowie dead in his bed, wherehe had lain too sick to rise; but he had had strength to use hisweapons, for four Mexicans had fallen, shot to death in the room, whilea fifth lay across the bed with the Colonel's terrible knife sticking inhis heart. Near the door of the magazine it is said that they foundMajor Evans, the master of ordnance, shot down with a burning match inhis hand, before he could fire the powder and blow the fort and hisenemies into the air. 

[Illustration: COLONEL BOWIE USED HIS WEAPONS TO THE LAST]

Upon a high platform in one corner, there was a small cannon which wasturned upon the Mexicans in the fort and did terrible execution. Whohandled it is not exactly known, but near it were found the bodies ofDavid Crockett and five of his companions. It is said, though possiblywithout much foundation, that when Santa Ana stepped into the courtyardhe found Crockett and his companions still fighting. 

Concealed in one of the rooms under some mattresses, five men werefound, and under a bridge crossing an irrigating ditch another wasdiscovered. All these were immediately shot by the orders of Santa Ana, and so hastily and excitedly was it all done that a Mexican was killedwith them by accident. The wife of Lieutenant Dickinson, a negro servantof Travis, and a few Mexican women were the only human beings whoselives were spared. 

Thus fell the Alamo. In thinking of this bloody tragedy, we mustremember that these were simple citizens, bound together by no tie savetheir affection for one another and their loyalty to a state of whoseindependence they were as yet ignorant, for though Texas was then the"Lone Star State, " no intimation of the Texas declaration ofindependence had reached Travis or his devoted followers. According tothe report of General Santa Ana, the action lasted but thirty minutesfrom the time the enemy entered the walls till the resistance wascompletely quelled. 

So many false reports have been made of the number engaged in thisstruggle that it is impossible even now to tell definitely. We do knowthat the number of Texans was less than two hundred, and it is probablethat about twenty-five hundred Mexicans were engaged in the assault. Allthe Texans were killed, and from the various accounts we are led toinfer that about five hundred Mexicans fell, a number which shows thatthe defense of the Texans was indeed fierce and bloody. 

The history of our country does not show any incident of greater braveryor more heroic self-sacrifice, and it is hardly to be conceived thatsuch a defense will ever be excelled. This was no disciplined forcefighting under trained officers, but a group of simple, manly men, notagreeing in all things, but united with the one idea of fighting againstcruelty and oppression. 

On the Capitol grounds at Austin, Texas, a monument was erected in 1891to the heroes of the Alamo. On it is this inscription:

 "Thermopylæ had her messenger of defeat: The Alamo had none. "

FOOTNOTES:

[141-1] At this time San Antonio had a population of about seventhousand Mexicans, a small proportion of whom were favorable to theTexan cause. The majority had no particular leaning toward either side, but were willing to make the best terms they could. The San AntonioRiver separated the town from the Alamo village and fort, or mission, asit was originally called. The Alamo proper was a stone structure builtduring the first settlement of that locality by the Spaniards, whointended it as a refuge for the colonists in case of attacks by thehostile Indians. A wall two and a half feet thick and eight feet highsurrounded the stone structure and enclosed an area of two or threeacres. It wras so large that it could not have been properly garrisonedby less than a thousand men, and the walls were not thick enough to makeit a strong fortification. 

[141-2] Santa Ana was one of the most famous of Mexican soldiers andpoliticians. He was prominent as a leader in the expulsion of theSpaniards, and finally became president of the republic. When Texasseceded, he advanced into that territory, but after his victory at theAlamo was decisively defeated and captured at San Jacinto by GeneralHouston. After he had recognized the independence of Texas, he wasreleased, and twice afterwards he served as president of Mexico. 

During our war with that country, the Mexicans under his command wereseveral times defeated, and Santa Ana resigned his commission. In 1853he was for the last time made president, but before his term expired hewas for a third time driven from his country in disgrace. 

[142-3] William B. Travis, after serving as a scout, had been appointedlieutenant-colonel and sent by the Texan governor to relieve ColonelNeill at the Alamo. The volunteers there were not willing to acceptTravis as higher than second in command, but wished to elect their owncolonel. In response to this feeling, Neill issued an order for theelection of a lieutenant-colonel, and was about to make his departure, but the Texans seeing his purpose resented it and threatened Neill'slife unless he yielded to their demands. Accordingly, under hisdirection James Bowie was elected full colonel, and when Travis reachedthe garrison he found Bowie in full command. Travis brought with him acompany of regular recruits, but it was evident that trouble might soonarise between the rival commanders. 

[142-4] This Colonel Jas. Bowie had been a popular leader of the Texans, and had already defeated a large Mexican force. It is said that in oneof his battles he broke his sword, but fought so desperately andsuccessfully with the stump that afterwards he designed from the brokenblade the terrible knife, which was known during the Mexican War and theRebellion as the "Bowie knife. "

[142-5] David Crockett is so interesting a character that a longeraccount of him is given on page 29 of this volume. 

[144-6] The people of Texas assembled in a general convention atWashington on the Brazos River, and issued their declaration ofindependence from Mexico on the second of March, 1836. That same day, General Sam Houston called attention to the perilous position of thegarrison at the Alamo, saying, "Independence is declared; it must bemaintained. Immediate action united with valor alone can achieve thegreat work. " This "immediate action" was too late for the brave men inthe Alamo. 

[Illustration]

THE ALHAMBRA

_By_ WASHINGTON IRVING

 NOTE. --The Alhambra is now a beautiful ruin, but at one time it was the great fortified palace of the Moors and the place where they made their last stand against the Christian Spaniards. From its beautiful courts the Moorish defenders were at last driven, and with their departure the Mohammedan faith ceased as a power in Europe. 

 The palace occupied but a portion of the space within the walls of the fortress, which in the time of the Moors was capable of containing an army of forty thousand men. 

 After the kingdom had passed into the hands of the Christians, the castle was occasionally inhabited by the Castilian monarchs. Early in the eighteenth century, however, it was abandoned as a court residence, its beautiful walls became desolate, and some of them fell to ruin, the gardens were destroyed, and the fountains ceased to play. 

 In 1829 Washington Irving lived for some time within the walls of the Alhambra and studied its history and the legends of Spain. These he has embodied in a charming book, from which we draw a description of the Alhambra. 

We now found ourselves in a deep, narrow ravine, filled with beautifulgroves, with a steep avenue and various footpaths winding through it, bordered with stone seats and ornamented with fountains. To our left, webeheld the towers of the Alhambra beetling above us; to our right, onthe opposite side of the ravine, we were equally dominated by rivaltowers on a rocky eminence. These, we were told, were the TorresVermejos, or Vermilion towers, so called from their ruddy hue. No oneknows their origin. They are of a date much anterior to the Alhambra. Some suppose them to have been built by the Romans; others, by somewandering colony of Phoenicians. Ascending the steep and shady avenue, we arrived at the foot of a huge square Moorish tower, forming a kindof barbican, through which passed the main entrance to the fortress. This portal is called the Gate of Justice, from the tribunal held withinits porch during the Moslem domination, for the immediate trial of pettycauses; a custom common to the Oriental nations, and occasionallyalluded to in the sacred Scriptures. 

[Illustration: THE GATE OF JUSTICE]

The great vestibule, or porch of the gate, is formed by an immenseArabian arch of the horseshoe form, which springs to half the height ofthe tower. On the keystone of this arch is engraven a gigantic hand. Within the vestibule, on the keystone of the portal, is engraven, inlike manner, a gigantic key. Those who pretend to some knowledge ofMohammedan symbols affirm that the hand is the emblem of doctrine, andthe key of faith; the latter, they add, was emblazoned on the standardof the Moslems when they subdued Andalusia, in opposition to theChristian emblem of the cross. 

It was a tradition handed down from the oldest inhabitants, and whichour informant had from his grandfather, that the hand and key weremagical devices on which the fate of the Alhambra depended. The Moorishking who built it was a great magician, and, as some believed, had soldhimself to the devil, and had laid the whole fortress under a magicspell. By this means it had remained standing for several hundred years, in defiance of storms and earthquakes, while almost all the otherbuildings of the Moors had fallen to ruin and disappeared. The spell, the tradition went on to say, would last until the hand on the outerarch should reach down and grasp the key, when the whole pile wouldtumble to pieces, and all the treasures buried beneath it by the Moorswould be revealed. 

After passing through the barbican we ascended a narrow lane, windingbetween walls, and came on an open esplanade within the fortress, calledthe Plaza de los Algibes, or Place of the Cisterns, from greatreservoirs which undermine it, cut in the living rock by the Moors, forthe supply of the fortress. Here, also, is a well of immense depth, furnishing the purest and coldest of water, another monument of thedelicate taste of the Moors, who were indefatigable in their exertionsto obtain that element in its crystal purity. 

In front of the esplanade is the splendid pile commenced by Charles V, intended, it is said, to eclipse the residence of the Moslem kings. Withall its grandeur and architectural merit, it appeared to us like anarrogant intrusion, and passing by it we entered a simple, unostentatious portal, opening into the interior of the Moorish palace. 

The transition was almost magical; it seemed as if we were at oncetransported into other times and another realm, and were treading thescenes of Arabian story. We found ourselves in a great court paved withwhite marble and decorated at each end with light Moorish peristyles. Itis called the court of the Alberca. In the center was an immense basin, or fish-pool, a hundred and thirty feet in length by thirty in breadth, stocked with goldfish, and bordered by hedges of roses. At the upper endof this court rose the great tower of Comares. 

From the lower end, we passed through a Moorish archway into therenowned Court of Lions. There is no part of the edifice that gives us amore complete idea of its original beauty and magnificence than this;for none has suffered so little from the ravages of time. In the centerstands the fountain famous in song and story. The alabaster basins stillshed their diamond drops, and the twelve lions which support them castforth their crystal streams as in the days of Boabdil. The court is laidout in flower-beds, and surrounded by light Arabian arcades of openfiligree work, supported by slender pillars of white marble. 

[Illustration: THE COURT OF LIONS]

The architecture, like that of all the other parts of the palace, ischaracterized by elegance rather than grandeur, bespeaking a delicateand graceful taste, and a disposition to indolent enjoyment. When welook upon the fairy tracery of the peristyles and the apparently fragilefretwork of the walls, it is difficult to believe that so much hassurvived the wear and tear of centuries, the shocks of earthquakes, theviolence of war, and the quiet, though no less baneful, pilferings ofthe tasteful traveler. It is almost sufficient to excuse the populartradition that the whole is protected by a magic charm. 

On one side of the court a portal richly adorned opens into a lofty hallpaved with white marble, and called the Hall of the Two Sisters. Acupola or lantern admits a tempered light from above, and a freecirculation of air. The lower part of the walls is incrusted withbeautiful Moorish tiles, on some of which are emblazoned the escutcheonsof the Moorish monarchs: the upper part is faced with the fine stuccowork invented at Damascus, consisting of large plates cast in molds andartfully joined, so as to have the appearance of having been laboriouslysculptured by the hand into light relievos and fanciful arabesques, intermingled with texts of the Koran, and poetical inscriptions inArabian and Celtic characters. These decorations of the walls andcupolas are richly gilded, and the interstices paneled with lapis lazuliand other brilliant and enduring colors. Above an inner porch is abalcony which communicated with the women's apartment. The latticedbalconies still remain, from whence the dark-eyed beauties of the haremmight gaze unseen upon the entertainments of the hall below. 

It is impossible to contemplate this once favorite abode of Orientalmanners without feeling the early associations of Arabian romance, andalmost expecting to see the white arm of some mysterious princessbeckoning from the balcony, or some dark eye sparkling through thelattice. The abode of beauty is here, as if it had been inhabited butyesterday--but where are the Zoraydas and Linderaxas!

On the opposite side of the Court of Lions is the hall of theAbencerrages, so called from the gallant cavaliers of that illustriousline, who were here perfidiously massacred. There are some who doubt thewhole truth of this story, but our humble attendant, Mateo, pointed outthe very wicket of the portal through which they are said to have beenintroduced, one by one, and the white marble fountain in the center ofthe hall, where they were beheaded. He showed us also certain broad, ruddy stains in the pavement, traces of their blood, which, according topopular belief, can never be effaced. Finding we listened to him witheasy faith, he added that there was often heard at night, in the Courtof the Lions, a low, confused sound, resembling the murmurings of amultitude; with now and then a faint tinkling, like the distant clank ofchains. These noises are probably produced by the bubbling currents andtinkling falls of water, conducted under the pavement through the pipesand channels to supply the fountains; but according to the legend of theson of the Alhambra, they are made by the spirits of the murderedAbencerrages, who nightly haunt the scene of their suffering, and invokethe vengeance of Heaven on their destroyer. 

[Illustration: THE HALL OF ABENCERRAGES]

From the Court of Lions we retraced our steps through the court of theAlberca, or great fish-pool, crossing which, we proceeded to the towerof Comares, so called from the name of the Arabian architect. It is ofmassive strength and lofty height, domineering over the rest of theedifice and overhanging the steep hillside, which descends abruptly tothe banks of the Darro. A Moorish archway admitted us into a vast andlofty hall, which occupies the interior of the tower and was the grandaudience chamber of the Moslem monarchs, thence called the hall ofAmbassadors. It still bears the traces of past magnificence. The wallsare richly stuccoed and decorated with arabesques, the vaulted ceilingsof cedar wood, almost lost in obscurity from its height, still gleamwith rich gilding and the brilliant tints of the Arabian pencil. Onthree sides of the saloon are deep windows, cut through the immensethickness of the walls, the balconies of which look down upon theverdant valley of the Darro, the streets and convents of the Albaycin, and command a prospect of the distant Vega. I might go on to describethe other delightful apartments of this side of the palace; the Tocadoror toilet of the Queen, an open belvedere on the summit of the tower, where the Moorish sultanas enjoyed the pure breezes from the mountainand the prospect of the surrounding paradise; the secluded little patioor garden of Lindaraxa, with its alabaster fountain, its thickets ofroses and myrtles, of citrons and oranges; the cool halls and grottoesof the baths, where the glare and heat of the day are tempered into aself-mysterious light and a pervading freshness. 

An abundant supply of water, brought from the mountains by old Moorishaqueducts, circulates throughout the palace, supplying its baths andfish-pools, sparkling in jets within its halls, or murmuring in channelsalong the marble pavements. When it has paid its tribute to the royalpile, and visited its gardens and pastures, it flows down the longavenue leading to the city, trinkling in rills, gushing in fountains, and maintaining a perpetual verdure in those groves that embower andbeautify the whole hill of the Alhambra. 

While the city below pants with the noon-tide heat, and the parched Vegatrembles to the eye, the delicate airs from the Sierra Nevada playthrough the lofty halls, bringing with them the sweetness of thesurrounding gardens. Everything invites to that indolent repose, thebliss of Southern climes; and while the half-shut eyes look out fromshaded balconies upon the glittering landscape, the ear is lulled by therustling of groves and the murmur of running streams. 

The reader has had a sketch of the interior of the Alhambra, and may bedesirous of a general idea of its vicinity. The morning is serene andlovely; the sun has not gained sufficient power to destroy the freshnessof the night; we will mount to the summit of the tower of Comares, andtake a bird's-eye view of Granada and its environs. 

Come, then, worthy reader and comrade, follow my steps into thisvestibule ornamented with rich tracery, which opens to the hall ofAmbassadors. We will not enter the hall, however, but turn to the left, to this small door, opening in the wall. Have a care! here are steepwinding steps and but scanty light. Yet, up this narrow, obscure andwinding staircase the proud monarchs of Granada and their queens haveoften ascended to the battlements of the tower to watch the approach ofChristian armies or to gaze on the battles in the Vega. At length we areupon the terraced roof, and may take breath for a moment, while we casta general eye over the splendid panorama of city and country, of rockymountain, verdant valley and fertile plain; of castle, cathedral, Moorish towers and Gothic domes, crumbling ruins and blooming groves. 

Let us approach the battlements and cast our eyes immediately below. See--on this side we have the whole plan of the Alhambra laid open tous, and can look down into its courts and gardens. At the foot of thetower is the Court of the Alberca with its great tank or fish-poolbordered with flowers; and yonder is the Court of Lions, with its famousfountain, and its light Moorish arcades; and in the center of the pileis the little garden of Lindaraxa, buried in the heart of the building, with its roses and citrons and shrubbery of emerald green. 

That belt of battlements studded with square towers, straggling roundthe whole brow of the hill, is the outer boundary of the fortress. Someof the towers, you may perceive, are in ruins, and their massivefragments are buried among vines, fig-trees and aloes. 

Let us look on this northern side of the tower. It is a giddy height;the very foundations of the tower rise above the groves of the steephillside. And see, a long fissure in the massive walls shows that thetower has been rent by some of the earthquakes which from time to timehave thrown Granada into consternation; and which, sooner or later, mustreduce this crumbling pile to a mere mass of ruin. The deep, narrow glenbelow us, which gradually widens as it opens from the mountains, is thevalley of the Darro; you see the little river winding its way underembowered terraces and among orchards and flower gardens. It is a streamfamous in old times for yielding gold, and its sands are still siftedoccasionally in search of the precious ore. Some of those whitepavilions which here and there gleam from among groves and vineyardswere rustic retreats of the Moors, to enjoy the refreshment of theirgardens. 

The airy palace with its tall white towers and long arcades, whichbreast yon mountain, among pompous groves and hanging gardens, is theGeneraliffe, a summer palace of the Moorish kings, to which theyresorted during the sultry months, to enjoy a still more breezy regionthan that of the Alhambra. The naked summit of the height above it, where you behold some shapeless ruins, is the Silla del Moro, or seat ofthe Moor; so called from having been a retreat of the unfortunateBoabdil during the time of an insurrection, where he seated himself andlooked down mournfully upon his rebellious city. 

A murmuring sound of water now and then rises from the valley. It isfrom the aqueduct of yon Moorish mill nearly at the foot of the hill. The avenue of trees beyond is the Alameda along the bank of the Darro, afavorite resort in evenings, and a rendezvous of lovers in the summernights, when the guitar may be heard at a late hour from the benchesalong its walks. At present there are but a few loitering monks to beseen there, and a group of water carriers from the fountain ofAvellanos. 

You start! 'Tis nothing but a hawk we have frightened from his nest. This old tower is a complete brooding-place for vagrant birds. Theswallow and martlet abound in every chink and cranny, and circle aboutit the whole day long; while at night, when all other birds have gone torest, the moping owl comes out of its lurking place and utters itsboding cry from the battlements. See how the hawk we have dislodgedsweeps away below us, skimming over the tops of the trees, and sailingup to ruins above the Generaliffe. 

Let us leave this side of the tower and turn our eyes to the west. Hereyou behold in the distance a range of mountains bounding the Vega, theancient barrier between Moslem Granada and the land of the Christians. Among the heights you may still discern warrior towns, whose gray wallsand battlements seem of a piece with the rocks on which they are built;while here and there is a solitary atalaya or watch-tower, mounted onsome lofty point, and looking down as if it were from the sky, into thevalleys on either side. It was down the defiles of these mountains, bythe pass of Lope, that the Christian armies descended into the Vega. Itwas round the base of yon gray and naked mountain, almost insulated fromthe rest, and stretching its bald, rocky promontory into the bosom ofthe plain, that the invading squadrons would come bursting into view, with flaunting banners and the clangor of drums and trumpets. Howchanged is the scene! Instead of the glittering line of mailed warriors, we behold the patient train of the toilful muleteer, slowly moving alongthe skirts of the mountain. 

Behind that promontory is the eventful bridge of Pinos, renowned formany a bloody strife between Moors and Christians; but still morerenowned as being the place where Columbus was overtaken and called backby the messenger of Queen Isabella just as he was departing in despairto carry his project of discovery to the court of France. 

Behold another place famous in the history of the discoverer; yon lineof walls and towers, gleaming in the morning sun in the very center ofthe Vega; the city of Santa Fe, built by the Catholic sovereigns duringthe siege of Granada, after a conflagration had destroyed their camp. Itwas to these walls that Columbus was called back by the heroic queen, and within them the treaty was concluded that led to the discovery ofthe Western World. 

Here, toward the south, the eye revels on the luxuriant beauties of theVega, a blooming wilderness of grove and garden, and teeming orchards, with the Xenil winding through it in silver links and feedinginnumerable rills, conducted through ancient Moorish channels, whichmaintain the landscape in perpetual verdure. Here are the beloved bowersand gardens and rural retreats for which the Moors fought with suchdesperate valor. 

Beyond the embowered region of the Vega you behold, to the south, a lineof arid hills down which a long train of mules is slowly moving. It wasfrom the summit of one of those hills that the unfortunate Boabdil castback his last look upon Granada and gave vent to the agony of his soul. It is the spot famous in song and story, "The last sigh of the Moor. "

Now raise your eyes to the snowy summit of yon pile of mountains, shining like a white summer cloud on the blue sky. It is the SierraNevada, the pride and delight of Granada; the source of her coolingbreezes and perpetual verdure, of her gushing fountains and perennialstreams. It is this glorious pile of mountains that gives to Granadathat combination of delights so rare in a southern city: the freshvegetation and the temperate airs of a northern climate, with thevivifying ardor of a tropical sun, and the cloudless azure of a southernsky. It is this aërial treasury of snow, which, melting in proportion tothe increase of the summer heat, sends down rivulets and streams throughevery glen and gorge of the Alpuxarras, diffusing emerald verdure andfertility throughout a chain of happy and sequestered valleys. 

These mountains may well be called the glory of Granada. They dominatethe whole extent of Andalusia, and may be seen from its most distantparts. The muleteer hails them as he views their frosty peaks from thesultry level of the plain; and the Spanish mariner on the deck of hisbark, far, far off on the bosom of the blue Mediterranean, watches themwith a pensive eye, thinks of delightful Granada, and chants in lowvoice some old romance about the Moors. 

But enough, the sun is high above the mountains, and is pouring his fullfervor upon our heads. Already the terraced roof of the town is hotbeneath our feet; let us abandon it, and descend and refresh ourselvesunder the arcades by the fountain of the Lions. 

HERVÉ RIEL

_By_ ROBERT BROWNING

 NOTE. --This poem of Browning's furnishes its own historical setting; it gives date and places and names. All, in fact, that it does not tell us is that the battle at Cape la Hogue was a part of the struggle between England and France undertaken because Louis XIV of France would not acknowledge William III as king of England. 

 The poem is written in characteristic Browning style. You have read in the earlier volumes _An Incident of the French Camp_, _How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix_, and _the Pied Piper of Hamelin_, and are therefore familiar with Browning's custom of leaving out words, using odd, informal words which another man might think out of place in poetry, and employing strange, sometimes jerky, meters. 

 On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two, Did the English fight the French--woe to France! And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter thro' the blue, Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, Came crowding ship on ship to Saint Malo on the Rance, With the English fleet in view. 

 'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase; First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville; Close on him fled, great and small, Twenty-two good ships in all; And they signalled to the place, "Help the winners of a race! Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick or, quicker still, Here's the English can and will!"

 Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board; "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" laughed they: "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and scored, Shall the 'Formidable' here with her twelve and eighty guns Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, And with flow at full beside? Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide. Reach the mooring? Rather say, While rock stands or water runs, Not a ship will leave the bay!"

 Then was called a council straight. Brief and bitter the debate: "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, For a prize to Plymouth Sound? Better run the ships aground!" (Ended Damfreville his speech). Not a minute more to wait! "Let the Captains all and each Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach! France must undergo her fate. 

 Give the word!" But no such word Was ever spoke or heard; For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these-- A captain? A lieutenant? A mate--first, second, third? No such man of mark, and meet With his betters to compete! But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the fleet, A poor coasting-pilot he, Hervé Riel the Croisickese. 

 And, "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Hervé Riel: "Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues? Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell 'Twixt the offing here and Grève where the river disembogues? Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for? Morn and eve, night and day, Have I piloted your bay, Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor. Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues! Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's a way! Only let me lead the line, Have the biggest ship to steer, Get this 'Formidable' clear, Make the others follow mine, And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well, Right to Solidor past Grève, And there lay them safe and sound; And if one ship misbehave, Keel so much as grate the ground, Why, I've nothing but my life--here's my head!" cries Hervé Riel. 

 [Illustration: THEY FOLLOW IN A FLOCK]

 Not a minute more to wait. "Steer us in, then, small and great! Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief. Captains, give the sailor place! He is Admiral, in brief. Still the north-wind, by God's grace! See the noble fellow's face, As the big ship with a bound, Clears the entry like a hound, Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound! See, safe thro' shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock, Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground. Not a spar that comes to grief! The peril, see, is past, All are harbored to the last, And just as Hervé Riel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate Up the English come, too late!

 So, the storm subsides to calm: They see the green trees wave On the heights o'erlooking Grève. Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. "Just our rapture to enhance, Let the English rake the bay, Gnash their teeth and glare askance, As they cannonade away! 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!" How hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance! Out burst all with one accord, "This is Paradise for Hell! Let France, let France's King Thank the man that did the thing!" What a shout, and all one word, "Hervé Riel!" As he stepped in front once more, Not a symptom of surprise In the frank blue Breton eyes, Just the same man as before. 

 Then said Damfreville, "My friend, I must speak out at the end, Though I find the speaking hard. Praise is deeper than the lips: You have saved the King his ships, You must name your own reward. 'Faith our sun was near eclipse! Demand whate'er you will, France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not Damfreville. "

 Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, As the honest heart laughed through Those frank eyes of Breton blue: "Since I needs must say my say, Since on board the duty's done, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?-- Since 'tis ask and have, I may-- Since the others go ashore-- Come! A good whole holiday! Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!" That he asked and that he got--nothing more. 

 Name and deed alike are lost: Not a pillar nor a post In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; Not a head in white and black On a single fishing smack, In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell. Go to Paris: rank on rank Search the heroes flung pell-mell On the Louvre, face and flank! You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé Riel. So, for better and for worse, Hervé Riel, accept my verse! In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife, the Belle Aurore!

[Illustration]

THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO

_By_ LORD BYRON

 There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

 Did ye not hear it?--No; 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet-- But, hark!--that heavy sound breaks in once more As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier that before! Arm! Arm! it is--it is--the cannon's opening roar!

[Illustration: BUT, HARK!]

 Within a windowed niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear That sound the first amidst the festival, And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear. And when they smiled because he deemed it near, His heart more truly knew that peal too well Which stretched his father on a bloody bier, And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell: He rushed into the field, and, foremost, fighting, fell. 

 Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise!

 And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips--"The foe! They come! They come!"

 And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes:-- How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers With the fierce native daring which instills The stirring memory of a thousand years, And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!

 And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, --alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valor, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. 

 Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, --the day Battle's magnificently-stern array! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse, --friend, foe, --in one red burial blent. 

HOW THEY TOOK THE GOLD-TRAIN[180-1]

_By_ CHARLES KINGSLEY[180-2]

A fortnight or more has passed in severe toil;[180-3] but not moresevere than they have endured many a time before. Bidding farewell onceand forever to the green ocean of the eastern plains, they have crossedthe Cordillera; they have taken a longing glance at the city of SantaFé, lying in the midst of rich gardens on its lofty mountain plateau, and have seen, as was to be expected, that it was far too large a placefor any attempt of theirs. But they had not altogether thrown away theirtime. Their Indian lad[181-4] has discovered that a gold-train is goingdown from Santa Fé toward the Magdalena; and they are waiting for itbeside the miserable rut which serves for a road, encamped in a forestof oaks which would make them almost fancy themselves back again inEurope, were it not for the tree-ferns which form the undergrowth; andwere it not, too, for the deep gorges opening at their very feet; inwhich, while their brows are swept by the cool breezes of a temperatezone, they can see far below, dim through their everlasting vapor-bathof rank hot steam, the mighty forms and gorgeous colors of the tropicforest. 

They have pitched their camp among the tree-ferns, above a spot wherethe path winds along a steep hill-side, with a sheer cliff below of manya hundred feet. There was a road there once, perhaps, whenCundinamarca[181-5] was a civilized and cultivated kingdom; but allwhich Spanish misrule has left of it are a few steps slipping from theirplaces at the bottom of a narrow ditch of mud. It has gone the way ofthe aqueducts, and bridges, and post-houses, the gardens and thellama-flocks of that strange empire. In the mad search for gold, everyart of civilization has fallen to decay, save architecture alone; andthat survives only in the splendid cathedrals which have risen upon theruins of the temples of the Sun. 

And now, the rapid tropic vegetation has reclaimed its old domains, andAmyas and his crew are as utterly alone, within a few miles of animportant Spanish settlement, as they would be in the solitudes of theOrinoco or the Amazon. 

In the meanwhile, all their attempts to find sulphur and nitre have beenunavailing; and they have been forced to depend after all (much toYeo's[182-6] disgust) upon their swords and arrows. Be it so:Drake[182-7] took Nombre de Dios and the gold-train there with no betterweapons; and they may do as much. 

So, having blocked up the road above by felling a large tree across it, they sit there among the flowers chewing coca, in default of food anddrink, and meditating among themselves the cause of a mysterious roar, which has been heard nightly in their wake ever since they left thebanks of the Meta. Jaguar it is not, nor monkey: it is unlike any soundthey know; and why should it follow them? However, they are in the landof wonders; and, moreover, the gold-train is far more important than anynoise. 

At last, up from beneath there was a sharp crack and a loud cry. Thecrack was neither the snapping of a branch, nor the tapping of awoodpecker; the cry was neither the scream of the parrot, nor the howlof the monkey, --

"That was a whip's crack, " said Yeo, "and a woman's wail. They are closehere, lads!"

"A woman's? Do they drive women in their gangs?" asked Amyas. 

"Why not, the brutes? There they are, sir. Did you see their basnetsglitter?"

"Men!" said Amyas in a low voice, "I trust you all not to shoot till Ido. Then give them one arrow, out swords, and at them! Pass the wordalong. "

Up they came, slowly, and all hearts beat loud at their coming. 

First, about twenty soldiers, only one-half of whom were on foot; theother half being borne, incredible as it may seem, each in a chair onthe back of a single Indian, while those who marched had consigned theirheavier armor and their arquebuses into the hands of attendant slaves, who were each pricked on at will by the pikes of the soldier behindthem. 

"The men are made to let their ordnance out of their hands. "

"Oh, sir, an Indian will pray to an arquebus not to shoot him; be suretheir artillery is safe enough, " said Yeo. 

"Look at the proud villains, " whispered another, "to make dumb beasts ofhuman creatures like that!"

"Ten shot, " counted the businesslike Amyas, "and ten pikes. "

Last of this troop came some inferior officer, also in his chair, who, as he went slowly up the hill, with his face turned toward the gangwhich followed, drew every other second the cigar from his lips, toinspirit them with those ejaculations which earned for the Spaniards ofthe sixteenth century the uncharitable imputation of being the mostabominable swearers of all Europeans. 

"The blasphemous dog!" said Yeo, fumbling at his bowstring, as if helonged to send an arrow through him. But Amyas had hardly laid hisfinger on the impatient veteran's arm, when another procession followed, which made them forget all else. 

A line of Indians, Negroes, and Zambos, naked, emaciated, scarred withwhips and fetters, and chained together by their left wrists, toiledupwards, panting and perspiring under the burden of a basket held up bya strap which passed across their foreheads. Yeo's sneer was but toojust; there were not only old men and youths among them, but women;slender young girls, mothers with children running at their knee; and, at the sight, a low murmur of indignation rose from the ambushedEnglishmen, worthy of the free and righteous hearts of those days, whenRaleigh could appeal to man and God, on the ground of a common humanity, in behalf of the outraged heathens of the New World; when Englishmenstill knew that man was man, and that the instinct of freedom was therighteous voice of God; ere the hapless seventeenth century hadbrutalized them also, by bestowing on them, amid a hundred other badlegacies, the fatal gift of negro-slaves. 

But the first forty, so Amyas counted, bore on their backs a burdenwhich made all, perhaps, but him and Yeo, forget even the wretches whobore it. Each basket contained a square package of carefully cordedhide; the look whereof friend Amyas knew full well. 

"What's in they, captain?"

"Gold!" And at that magic word all eyes were strained greedily forward, and such a rustle followed, that Amyas, in the very face of detection, had to whisper--

"Be men, be men, or you will spoil all yet!"

The last twenty, or so, of the Indians bore larger baskets, but morelightly freighted, seemingly with manioc, and maize-bread, and otherfood for the party; and after them came, with their bearers andattendants, just twenty soldiers more, followed by the officer incharge, who smiled away in his chair, and twirled two huge mustachios, thinking of nothing less than of the English arrows which were itchingto be away and through his ribs. The ambush was complete; the onlyquestion how and when to begin?

Amyas had a shrinking, which all will understand, from drawing bow incold blood on men so utterly unsuspicious and defenseless, even thoughin the very act of devilish cruelty--for devilish cruelty it was, asthree or four drivers armed with whips, lingered up and down the slowlystaggering file of Indians, and avenged every moment's lagging, evenevery stumble, by a blow of the cruel manati-hide, which cracked like apistol-shot against the naked limbs of the silent and uncomplainingvictim. 

Suddenly the casus belli, [186-8] as usually happens, arose of its ownaccord. 

The last but one of the chained line was an old gray-headed man, followed by a slender graceful girl of some eighteen years old, andAmyas' heart yearned over them as they came up. Just as they passed, theforemost of the file had rounded the corner above; there was a bustle, and a voice shouted, "Halt, Señors! there is a tree across the path!"

"A tree across the path?" bellowed the officer, while the line oftrembling Indians, told to halt above, and driven on by blows below, surged up and down upon the ruinous steps of the Indian road, until thepoor old man fell groveling on his face. 

The officer leaped down, and hurried upward to see what had happened. Ofcourse, he came across the old man. 

"Grandfather of Beelzebub, is this a place to lie worshiping yourfiends?" and he pricked the prostrate wretch with the point of hissword. 

The old man tried to rise; but the weight of his head was too much forhim; he fell again, and lay motionless. 

The driver applied the manati-hide across his loins, once, twice, withfearful force; but even that specific was useless. 

"Gastado, Señor Capitan, " said he, with a shrug. "Used up. He has beenfailing these three months!"

"What does the intendant mean by sending me out with worn-out cattlelike these? Forward there!" shouted he. "Clear away the tree, Señors, and I'll soon clear the chain. Hold it up, Pedrillo!"

The driver held up the chain, which was fastened to the old man's wrist. The officer stepped back, and flourished round his head a Toledo blade, whose beauty made Amyas break the Tenth Commandment on the spot. 

The man was a tall, handsome, broad-shouldered, high-bred man; and Amyasthought that he was going to display the strength of his arm, and thetemper of his blade, in severing the chain at one stroke. 

Even he was not prepared for the recondite fancies of a Spanishadventurer, worthy son or nephew of those first conquerors, who used totry the keenness of their swords upon the living bodies of Indians, andregale themselves at meals with the odor of roasting caciques. 

The blade gleamed in the air, once, twice, and fell: not on the chain, but on the wrist which it fettered. There was a shriek, a crimsonflash--and the chain and its prisoner were parted indeed. 

One moment more, and Amyas's arrow would have been through the throat ofthe murderer, who paused, regarding his workmanship with a satisfiedsmile; but vengeance was not to come from him. 

Quick and fierce as a tiger-cat, the girl sprang on the ruffian, andwith the intense strength of passion, clasped him in her arms and leapedwith him from the narrow ledge into the abyss below. 

There was a rush, a shout; all faces were bent over the precipice. Thegirl hung by her chained wrist: the officer was gone. There was amoment's awful silence; and then Amyas heard his body crashing throughthe tree-tops far below. 

[Illustration: "DO NOT SHOOT TILL I DO"]

"Haul her up! Hew her to pieces! Burn the witch!" and the driver, seizing the chain, pulled at it with all his might, while all springingfrom their chairs, stooped over the brink. 

Now was the time for Amyas! Heaven had delivered them into his hands. Swift and sure, at ten yards off, his arrow rushed through the body ofthe driver, and then, with a roar as of a leaping lion, he sprang likean avenging angel into the midst of the astonished ruffians. 

His first thought was for the girl. In a moment, by sheer strength, hehad jerked her safely up into the road; while the Spaniards recoiledright and left, fancying him for the moment some mountain giant orsupernatural foe. His hurrah undeceived them in an instant, and a cry of"English! Dogs!" arose, but arose too late. The men of Devon hadfollowed their captain's lead: a storm of arrows left five Spaniardsdead, and a dozen more wounded, and down leapt Salvation Yeo, his whitehair streaming behind him, with twenty good swords more, and the work ofdeath began. 

The Spaniards fought like lions; but they had no time to fix theirarquebuses on the crutches; no room, in that narrow path, to use theirpikes. The English had the wall of them; and to have the wall there, wasto have the foe's life at their mercy. Five desperate minutes, and not aliving Spaniard stood upon those steps; and certainly no living one layin the green abyss below. Two only, who were behind the rest, happeningto be in full armor, escaped without mortal wound, and fled down thehill again. 

"After them! Michael Evans and Simon Heard; and catch them, if they runa league. "

The two long and lean Clovelly men, active as deer from forest training, ran two feet for the Spaniard's one; and in ten minutes returned, havingdone their work; while Amyas and his men hurried past the Indians, tohelp Cary and the party forward, where shouts and musket shots announceda sharp affray. 

Their arrival settled the matter. All the Spaniards fell but three orfour, who scrambled down the crannies of the cliff. 

"Let not one of them escape! Slay them as Israel slew Amalek!" criedYeo, as he bent over; and ere the wretches could reach a place ofshelter, an arrow was quivering in each body, as it rolled lifeless downthe rocks. 

"Now then! Loose the Indians!"

They found armorers' tools on one of the dead bodies, and it was done. 

"We are friends, " said Amyas. "All we ask is, that you shall help uscarry this gold down to the Magdalena, and then you are free. "

Some few of the younger groveled at his knees, and kissed his feet, hailing him as the child of the Sun: but the most part kept a stolidindifference, and when freed from their fetters, sat quietly down wherethey stood, staring into vacancy. The iron had entered too deeply intotheir soul. They seemed past hope, enjoyment, even understanding. 

But the young girl, who was last of all in the line, as soon as she wasloosed, sprang to her father's body, speaking no word, lifted it in herthin arms, laid it across her knees, kissed the fallen lips, stroked thefurrowed cheeks, murmured inarticulate sounds like the cooing of awoodland dove, of which none knew the meaning but she, and he who heardnot, for his soul had long since fled. Suddenly the truth flashed onher; silent as ever, she drew one long heavy breath, and rose erect, the body in her arms. 

Another moment, and she had leaped into the abyss. They watched her darkand slender limbs, twined closely round the old man's corpse, turn over, and over, and over, till a crush among the leaves, and a scream amongthe birds, told that she had reached the trees; and the green roof hidher from their view. 

"Brave lass!" shouted a sailor. 

"The Lord forgive her!" said Yeo. "But, your worship, we must have theserascals' ordnance. "

"And their clothes, too, Yeo, if we wish to get down the Magdalenaunchallenged. Now listen, my masters all! We have won, by God's goodgrace, gold enough to serve us the rest of our lives, and that withoutlosing a single man; and may yet win more, if we be wise, and He thinksgood. But oh, my friends, do not make God's gift our ruin, byfaithlessness, or greediness, or any mutinous haste. "

"You shall find none in us!" cried several men. "We know your worship. We can trust our general. "

"Thank God!" said Amyas. "Now then, it will be no shame or sin to makethe Indians carry it, saving the women, whom God forbid we shouldburden. But we must pass through the very heart of the Spanishsettlements, and by the town of Saint Martha itself. So the clothes andweapons of these Spaniards we must have, let it cost us what labor itmay. How many lie in the road?"

"Thirteen here, and about ten up above, " said Cary. [191-9]

"Then there are near twenty missing. Who will volunteer to go down overthe cliff, and bring up the spoil of them?"

"I, and I, and I"; and a dozen stepped out, as they did always whenAmyas wanted anything done; for the simple reason, that they knew thathe meant to help at the doing of it himself. 

"Very well, then, follow me. Sir John, [192-10] take the Indian lad foryour interpreter, and try and comfort the souls of these poor heathens. Tell them that they shall all be free. "

"Why, who is that comes up the road?"

All eyes were turned in the direction of which he spoke. And, wonder ofwonders! up came none other than Ayacanora[192-11] herself, blow-gun inhand, bow on back, and bedecked in all her feather garments, which lastwere rather the worse for a fortnight's woodland travel. 

All stood mute with astonishment, as, seeing Amyas, she uttered a cry ofjoy, quickened her pace into a run, and at last fell panting andexhausted at his feet. 

"I have found you!" she said; "you ran away from me, but you could notescape me!" And she fawned round Amyas, like a dog who has found hismaster, and then sat down on the bank, and burst into wild sobs. 

"God help us!" said Amyas, clutching his hair, as he looked down uponthe beautiful weeper. "What am I to do with her, over and above allthese poor heathens?"

But there was no time to be lost, and over the cliff he scrambled; whilethe girl, seeing that the main body of the English remained, sat down ona point of rock to watch him. 

After half-an-hour's hard work, the weapons, clothes, and armor of thefallen Spaniards were hauled up the cliff, and distributed in bundlesamong the men; the rest of the corpses were thrown over the precipice, and they started again upon their road toward the Magdalena, while Yeosnorted like a war-horse who smells the battle, at the delight of oncemore handling powder and ball. 

"We can face the world now, sir! Why not go back and try Santa Fé, afterall?"

But Amyas thought that enough was as good as a feast, and they held ondownwards, while the slaves followed, without a sign of gratitude, butmeekly obedient to their new masters, and testifying now and then by asign or a grunt, their surprise at not being beaten, or made to carrytheir captors. Some, however, caught sight of the little calabashes ofcoca which the English carried. That woke them from their torpor, andthey began coaxing abjectly (and not in vain), for a taste of thatmiraculous herb, which would not only make food unnecessary, and enabletheir panting lungs to endure the keen mountain air, but would rid them, for a while at least, of the fallen Indian's most unpitying foe, themalady of thought. 

As the cavalcade turned the corner of the mountain, they paused for onelast look at the scene of that fearful triumph. Lines of vultures werealready streaming out of infinite space, as if created suddenly for theoccasion. A few hours and there would be no trace of that fierce fray, but a few white bones amid untrodden beds of flowers. 

And now Amyas had time to ask Ayacanora the meaning of this her strangeappearance. He wished her anywhere but where she was: but now that shewas here, what heart could be so hard as not to take pity on the poorwild thing? And Amyas as he spoke to her had, perhaps, a tenderness inhis tone, from very fear of hurting her, which he had never used before. Passionately she told him how she had followed on their track day andnight, and had every evening made sounds, as loud as she dared, in hopesof their hearing her, and either waiting for her, or coming back to seewhat caused the noise. Amyas now recollected the strange roaring whichhad followed them. 

"Noises? What did you make them with?"

Ayacanora lifted her finger with an air of most self-satisfied mystery;and then drew cautiously from under her feather cloak an object at whichAmyas had hard work to keep his countenance. 

"Look!" whispered she, as if half afraid that the thing itself shouldhear her. "I have it--the holy trumpet!"

There it was, a handsome earthen tube some two feet long, neatly glazed, and painted with quaint grecques and figures of animals; a relicevidently of some civilization now extinct. 

Brimblecombe rubbed his little fat hands. "Brave maid! you have cheatedSatan this time, " quoth he; while Yeo advised that the idolatrous relicshould be forthwith "hove over cliff. "

"Let be, " said Amyas. "What is the meaning of this, Ayacanora? And whyhave you followed us?"

She told a long story, from which Amyas picked up, as far as he couldunderstand her, that that trumpet had been for years the torment of herlife; the one thing in the tribe superior to her; the one thing whichshe was not allowed to see, because, forsooth, she was a woman. So shedetermined to show them that a woman was as good as a man; and hence herhatred of marriage, and her Amazonian exploits. But still thePiache[195-12] would not show her that trumpet, or tell her where itwas: and as for going to seek it, even she feared the superstitiouswrath of the tribe at such a profanation. But the day after the Englishwent, the Piache chose to express his joy at their departure; whereon, as was to be expected, a fresh explosion between master and pupil, whichended, she confessed, in her burning the old rogue's hut over his head, from which he escaped with loss of all his conjuring-tackle, and fledraging into the woods, vowing that he would carry off the trumpet to theneighboring tribe. Whereon, by a sudden impulse, the young lady tookplenty of coca, her weapons, and her feathers, started on his trail, andran him to earth just as he was unveiling the precious mystery. At whichsight (she confessed), she was horribly afraid, and half inclined torun: but, gathering courage from the thought that the white men used tolaugh at the whole matter, she rushed upon the hapless conjurer, andbore off her prize in triumph; and there it was!

"I hope you have not killed him?" said Amyas. 

"I did beat him a little; but I thought you would not let me kill him. "

Amyas was half amused with her confession of his authority over her: butshe went on, "And then I dare not go back to the Indians; so I was forced to comeafter you. "

"And is that, then, your only reason for coming after us?" asked stupidAmyas. 

He had touched some secret chord--though what it was he was too busy toinquire. The girl drew herself up proudly, blushing scarlet, and said--

"You never tell lies. Do you think that I would tell lies?"

On which she fell to the rear, and followed them steadfastly, speakingto no one, but evidently determined to follow them to the world's end. 

They soon left the high road; and for several days held on downwards, hewing their path slowly and painfully through the thick underwood. Onthe evening of the fourth day, they had reached the margin of a river, at a point where it seemed broad and still enough for navigation. Forthose three days they had not seen a trace of human beings, and the spotseemed lonely enough for them to encamp without fear of discovery, andbegin the making of their canoes. They began to spread themselves alongthe stream, in search of the soft-wooded trees proper for their purpose;but hardly had their search begun, when, in the midst of a densethicket, they came upon a sight which filled them with astonishment. Beneath a honey-combed cliff, which supported one enormous cotton-tree, was a spot of some thirty yards square sloping down to the stream, planted in rows with magnificent banana-plants, full twelve feet high, and bearing among their huge waxy leaves clusters of ripening fruit;while, under their mellow shade, yams and cassava plants wereflourishing luxuriantly, the whole being surrounded by a hedge of orangeand scarlet flowers. There it lay, streaked with long shadows from thesetting sun, while a cool southern air rustled in the cotton-tree, andflapped to and fro the great banana leaves; a tiny paradise of art andcare. But where was its inhabitant?

[Illustration: SOLEMNLY HE APPROACHED, STAFF IN HAND]

Aroused by the noise of their approach, a figure issued from a cave inthe rocks, and, after gazing at them for a moment, came down the gardentowards them. He was a tall and stately old man, whose snow-white beardand hair covered his chest and shoulders, while his lower limbs werewrapt in Indian-web. Slowly and solemnly he approached, a staff in onehand, a string of beads in the other, the living likeness of some oldHebrew prophet, or anchorite of ancient legend. He bowed courteously toAmyas (who of course returned his salute), and was in act to speak, whenhis eye fell upon the Indians, who were laying down their burdens in aheap under the trees. His mild countenance assumed instantly anexpression of the acutest sorrow and displeasure; and, striking hishands together, he spoke in Spanish--

"Alas! miserable me! Alas! unhappy Señors! Do my old eyes deceive me, and is it one of those evil visions of the past which haunt my dreams bynight: or has the accursed thirst for gold, the ruin of my race, penetrated even into this my solitude? Oh, Señors, Señors, know you notthat you bear with you your own poison, your own familiar fiend, theroot of every evil? And is it not enough for you to load yourselves withthe wedge of Achan, and partake his doom, but you must make thesehapless heathens the victims of your greed and cruelty, and forestallfor them on earth those torments which may await their unbaptized soulshereafter?"

"We have preserved, and not enslaved these Indians, ancient Señor, " saidAmyas proudly; "and to-morrow will see them as free as the birds overour heads. "

"Free? Then you cannot be countrymen of mine! But pardon an old man, myson, if he has spoken too hastily in the bitterness of his ownexperience. But who and whence are you? And why are you bringing intothis lonely wilderness that gold--for I know too well the shape of thoseaccursed packets, which would God that I had never seen!"

"What we are, reverend sir, matters little, as long as we behave to youas the young should to the old. As for our gold, it will be a curse orblessing to us, I conceive, just as we use it well or ill; and so is aman's head, or his hand, or any other thing; but that is no reason forcutting off his limbs for fear of doing harm with them; neither is itfor throwing away those packages, which, by your leave, we shall depositin one of these caves. We must be your neighbors, I fear, for a day ortwo; but I can promise you that your garden shall be respected, oncondition that you do not inform any human soul of our being here. "

"God forbid, Señor, that I should try to increase the number of myvisitors, much less to bring hither strife and blood, of which I haveseen too much already. As you have come in peace, in peace depart. Leaveme alone with God and my penitence, and may the Lord have mercy on you!"

And he was about to withdraw, when, recollecting himself, he turnedsuddenly to Amyas again:

"Pardon me, Señor, if, after forty years of utter solitude, I shrink atfirst from the conversation of human beings, and forget, in the habitualshyness of a recluse, the duties of a hospitable gentleman of Spain. Mygarden, and all which it produces, is at your service. Only let meentreat that these poor Indians shall have their share; for heathensthough they be, Christ died for them; and I cannot but cherish in mysoul some secret hope that He did not die in vain. "

"God forbid!" said Brimblecombe. "They are no worse than we, for aught Isee, whatsoever their fathers may have been; and they have fared noworse than we since they have been with us, nor will, I promise you. "

The good fellow did not tell that he had been starving himself for thelast three days to cram the children with his own rations; and that thesailors, and even Amyas, had been going out of their way every fiveminutes, to get fruit for their new pets. 

A camp was soon formed; and that evening the old hermit asked Amyas, Cary, and Brimblecombe to come up into his cavern. 

They went; and after the accustomed compliments had passed, sat down onmats upon the ground, while the old man stood, leaning against a slab ofstone surmounted by a rude wooden cross, which served him as a place ofprayer. 

 * * * * *

The talk lasted long into the night, [200-13] but Amyas was up longbefore daybreak, felling the trees; and as he and Cary walked back tobreakfast, the first thing which they saw was the old man in his gardenwith four or five Indian children round him, talking smilingly to them. 

"The old man's heart is sound still, " said Will. "No man is lost who isstill fond of little children. "

"Ah, Señors!" said the hermit as they came up, "you see that I havebegun already to act upon your advice. "

"And you have begun at the right end, " quoth Amyas; "if you win thechildren, you win the mothers. "

"And if you win the mothers, " quoth Will, "the poor fathers must needsobey their wives, and follow in the wake. "

The old man only sighed. "The prattle of these little ones softens myhard heart, Señors, with a new pleasure; but it saddens me, when Irecollect that there may be children of mine now in the world--childrenwho have never known a father's love--never known aught but a master'sthreats--"

"God has taken care of these little ones. Trust that He has taken careof yours. "

That day Amyas assembled the Indians, and told them that they must obeythe hermit as their king, and settle there as best they could: for ifthey broke up and wandered away, nothing was left for them but to fallone by one into the hands of the Spaniards. They heard him with theirusual melancholy and stupid acquiescence, and went and came as they werebid, like animated machines; but the negroes were of a different temper;and four or five stout fellows gave Amyas to understand that they hadbeen warriors in their own country, and that warriors they would bestill; and nothing should keep them from Spaniard-hunting. Amyas sawthat the presence of these desperadoes in the new colony would bothendanger the authority of the hermit, and bring the Spaniards down uponit in a few weeks; so making a virtue of necessity, he asked themwhether they would go Spaniard-hunting with him. 

This was just what the bold Coromantees wished for; they grinned andshouted their delight at serving under so great a warrior, and then setto work most gallantly, getting through more in the day than any tenIndians, and indeed than any two Englishmen. 

So went on several days, during which the trees were felled, and theprocess of digging them out began; while Ayacanora, silent and moody, wandered into the woods all day with her blow-gun, and brought home atevening a load of parrots, monkeys, and curassows; two or three oldhands were sent out to hunt likewise; so that, what with the game andthe fish of the river, which seemed inexhaustible, and the fruit of theneighboring palm-trees, there was no lack of food in the camp. But whatto do with Ayacanora weighed heavily on the mind of Amyas. He opened hisheart on the matter to the old hermit, and asked him whether he wouldtake charge of her. The latter smiled, and shook his head at the notion. "If your report of her be true, I may as well take in hand to tame ajaguar. " However, he promised to try; and one evening, as they were allstanding together before the mouth of the cave, Ayacanora came upsmiling with the fruit of her day's sport; and Amyas, thinking this afit opportunity, began a carefully-prepared harangue to her, which heintended to be altogether soothing, and even pathetic, --to the effectthat the maiden, having no parents, was to look upon this good old manas her father; that he would instruct her in the white man's religionand teach her how to be happy and good, and so forth; and that, infine, she was to remain there with the hermit. 

She heard him quietly, her great dark eyes opening wider and wider, herbosom swelling, her stature seeming to grow taller every moment, as sheclenched her weapons firmly in both her hands. Beautiful as she alwayswas, she had never looked so beautiful before; and as Amyas spoke ofparting with her, it was like throwing away a lovely toy; but it must bedone, for her sake, for his, perhaps for that of all the crew. 

The last words had hardly passed his lips, when, with a shriek ofmingled scorn, rage, and fear, she dashed through the astonished group. 

"Stop her!" was Amyas' first word; but his next was, "Let her go!" forspringing like a deer through the little garden, and over theflower-fence, she turned, menacing with her blow-gun the sailors, whohad already started in her pursuit. 

"Let her alone, for Heaven's sake!" shouted Amyas, who, he scarce knewwhy, shrank from the thought of seeing those graceful limbs strugglingin the seamen's grasp. 

She turned again, and in another minute her gaudy plumes had vanishedamong the dark forest stems, as swiftly as if she had been a passingbird. 

All stood thunderstruck at this unexpected end to the conference. 

At last Amyas spoke--

"There's no use in standing here idle, gentlemen. Staring after herwon't bring her back. After all, I'm glad she's gone. "

But Ayacanora did not return; and ten days more went on in continualtoil at the canoes without any news of her from the hunters. Amyas, bythe bye, had strictly bidden these last not to follow the girl, not evento speak to her, if they came across her in their wanderings. He wasshrewd enough to guess that the only way to cure her sulkiness was toout-sulk her; but there was no sign of her presence in any direction;and the canoes being finished at last, the gold, and such provisions asthey could collect, were placed on board, and one evening the partyprepared for their fresh voyage. 

They determined to travel as much as possible by night, for fear ofdiscovery, especially in the neighborhood of the few Spanish settlementswhich were then scattered along the banks of the main stream. These, however, the negroes knew, so that there was no fear of coming on themunawares; and as for falling asleep in their night journeys, "Nobody, "the negroes said, "ever slept on the Magdalena; the mosquitoes took toogood care of that. " Which fact Amyas and his crew verified afterwards asthoroughly as wretched men could do. 

The sun had sunk; the night had all but fallen; the men were all onboard; Amyas in command of one canoe, Cary of the other. The Indianswere grouped on the bank, watching the party with their listless stare, and with them the young guide, who preferred remaining among theIndians, and was made supremely happy by the present of a Spanish swordand an English ax; while, in the midst, the old hermit, with tears inhis eyes, prayed God's blessing on them. 

"I owe to you, noble cavaliers, new peace, new labor, I may say, newlife. May God be with you, and teach you to use your gold and yourswords better than I used mine. "

The adventurers waved their hands to him. 

"Give way, men, " cried Amyas; and as he spoke the paddles dashed intothe water, to a right English hurrah! which sent the birds flutteringfrom their roosts, and was answered by the yell of a hundred monkeys, and the distant roar of the jaguar. 

About twenty yards below, a wooded rock, some ten feet high, hung overthe stream. The river was not there more than fifteen yards broad; deepnear the rock, shallow on the farther side; and Amyas's canoe led theway, within ten feet of the stone. 

As he passed, a dark figure leapt from the bushes on the edge, andplunged heavily into the water close to the boat. All started. A jaguar?No; he would not have missed so short a spring. What then? A humanbeing? A head rose panting to the surface, and with a few strongstrokes, the swimmer had clutched the gunwale. It was Ayacanora!

"Go back!" shouted Amyas. "Go back girl!"

She uttered the same wild cry with which she had fled into the forest. 

"I will die, then!" and she threw up her arms. Another moment, and shehad sunk. 

To see her perish before his eyes! who could bear that? Her hands alonewere above the surface. Amyas caught convulsively at her in thedarkness, and seized her wrist. 

A yell rose from the negroes: a roar from the crew as from a cage oflions. There was a rush and a swirl along the surface of the stream; and"Caiman![205-14] caiman!" shouted twenty voices. 

Now, or never, for the strong arm! "To larboard, men, or over we go!"cried Amyas, and with one huge heave, he lifted the slender body uponthe gunwhale. Her lower limbs were still in the water, when, withinarm's length, rose above the stream a huge muzzle. The lower jaw layflat, the upper reached as high as Amyas's head. He could see the longfangs gleam white in the moonshine; he could see for one moment, fulldown the monstrous depths of that great gape, which would have crushed abuffalo. Three inches, and no more, from that soft side, the snoutsurged up--

There was the gleam of an ax from above, a sharp ringing blow, and thejaws came together with a clash which rang from bank to bank. He hadmissed her! Swerving beneath the blow, his snout had passed beneath herbody, and smashed up against the side of the canoe, as the striker, over-balanced, fell headlong overboard upon the monster's back. 

"Who is it?"

"Yeo!" shouted a dozen. 

Man and beast went down together, and where they sank, the moonlightshone on a great swirling eddy, while all held their breaths, andAyacanora cowered down into the bottom of the canoe, her proud spiritutterly broken, for the first time, by the terror of that great need, and by a bitter loss. For in the struggle, the holy trumpet, companionof all her wanderings, had fallen from her bosom; and her fond hope ofbringing magic prosperity to her English friends had sunk with it to thebottom of the stream. 

None heeded her; not even Amyas, round whose knees she clung, fawninglike a spaniel dog: for where was Yeo?

Another swirl; a shout from the canoe abreast of them, and Yeo rose, having dived clean under his own boat, and risen between the two. 

"Safe as yet, lads! Heave me a line, or he'll have me after all. "

But ere the brute reappeared, the old man was safe on board. 

"The Lord has stood by me, " panted he, as he shot the water from hisears. "We went down together: I knew the Indian trick, and beingupper-most, had my thumbs in his eyes before he could turn: but hecarried me down to the very mud. My breath was nigh gone, so I left go, and struck up: but my toes tingled as I rose again, I'll warrant. Therethe beggar is, looking for me, I declare!"

And true enough, there was the huge brute swimming slowly round andround, in search of his lost victim. It was too dark to put an arrowinto his eye; so they paddled on, while Ayacanora crouched silently atAmyas's feet. 

"Yeo!" asked he, in a low voice, "what shall we do with her?"

"Why ask me, sir?" said the old man, as he had a very good right to ask. 

"Because, when one don't know oneself, one had best inquire of one'selders. Besides, you saved her life at the risk of your own, and have aright to a voice in the matter, if any one has, old friend. "

"Then, my dear young captain, if the Lord puts a precious soul underyour care, don't you refuse to bear the burden He lays on you. "

Amyas was silent awhile; while Ayacanora, who was evidently utterlyexhausted by the night's adventure, and probably by long wanderings, watchings, and weepings which had gone before it, sank with her headagainst his knee, fell fast asleep, and breathed as gently as a child. 

At last he rose in the canoe, and called Cary alongside. 

"Listen to me, gentlemen, and sailors all. You know that we have amaiden on board here, by no choice of our own. Whether she will be ablessing to us, God alone can tell: but she may turn to the greatestcurse which has befallen us ever since we came out over Bar three yearsago. Promise me one thing, or I put her ashore the next beach; and thatis, that you will treat her as if she were your own sister. "

FOOTNOTES:

[180-1] This selection is abridged from the twenty-fifth chapter in_Westward Ho!_ Charles Kingsley's great novel of adventure. 

In the story are related the adventures of Amyas Leigh, a large, powerful and exceedingly vigorous man from Devonshire, who follows thelife of the sea during the days of Queen Elizabeth. Like many of the menof his age, he becomes absorbed with the notion that in South America isthe great city of Manoa, whose wealth in gold and jewels far exceedsthat of Mexico and Peru. 

After an exciting voyage, enlivened by conflicts with Spanish ships, thesurvivors land on the coast of South America and proceed inward insearch of Manoa. Besides the dangers from Spaniards and natives, theymeet with all the perils of the wilderness: disease and death at thehands of the Spaniards, Indians and wild animals thinning their ranks toless than half; yet the spirits of Amyas never falter, and the remnantof his force follow him with a devotion that is wonderful. 

[180-2] Charles Kingsley, an English clergyman, was born in 1819 andentered Cambridge University in 1838. Ten years later he published thefirst of his stories, and in 1855, _Westward Ho!_ Next to this bookprobably ranks his _Hypatia_, which he published in 1855, and whichtells a thrilling tale of the struggles of Christianity with the Greekfaith in the fifth century. He was a successful clergyman and becameCanon of Westminster. He visited the United States in 1874, but hishealth was even then failing, and a year later he died. 

[180-3] The party landed on the coast of South America, and in thepreceding chapter is told the story of their stay in a hospitable Indianvillage where they rested and prepared themselves for two weeks of hardtravel. 

[181-4] This Indian lad was rescued from the Spaniards by Amyas and isdevoted to the latter. He acts as interpreter, and his keen sight andfamiliarity with the southern wilderness make him of great value to thewanderers. 

[181-5] Cundinamarca was the central province in what is now theRepublic of Colombia. Its streams are tributary to the Orinoco, thoughit extends westward into the Andes. It derived its name from a nativeAmerican goddess, and before the Spaniards devastated the region it wasone of the chief centers of Indian civilization in South America. 

[182-6] Salvation Yeo is a big white-haired man, older than Amyas, whospent his early life in wild adventure with Drake and other sailors inthe Southern Seas. After incredible sufferings while in the hands of theSpaniards, Salvation becomes a most ardent and devoted Christian, butwith a fierce hatred of the Spaniards and all things Spanish that makeshis acts strangely inconsistent. 

[182-7] This is Sir Francis Drake, the discoverer of the Pacific Ocean, a leader in many thrilling expeditions and exciting conflicts with theSpaniards. 

[186-8] _Casus belli_ means _cause of war_. 

[191-9] Will Cary is the lieutenant and right-hand man of Amyas. 

[192-10] Sir John Brimblecombe is the chaplain of the expedition. 

[192-11] Ayacanora is a beautiful Indian princess whom the Spaniards metin the Indian village described in the preceding chapter. She seemsquite different from others of the tribe, and is thought to be adescendant from one of the light-skinned Peruvian Incas, whom theSpaniards had almost entirely extinguished. Much later in the story sheis discovered to be of real white descent, and at the end of the bookshe becomes the wife of Amyas. 

[195-12] The _Piache_ is the chief medicine man of the tribe of Indiansamong whom Ayacanora was regarded as a powerful princess. 

[200-13] The old hermit proves to be one of the survivors of Pizarro'scompany. He took part in the destruction of native civilization and wasguilty of all the cruelties and barbarities that his race practiced. Heis living now in the wilderness in an effort to atone for his terriblesins. 

[205-14] A _caiman_, or _cayman_, is a species of alligator. 

[Illustration]

A BED OF NETTLES

_By_ GRANT ALLEN

Reaching my hand into the hedgerow to pick a long, lithe, blossomingspray of black byrony--here it is, with its graceful climbing stem, itsglossy, heart-shaped leaves and its pretty greenish lily flowers--I havestung myself rather badly against the nettles that grow rank and tallfrom the rich mud in the ditch below. Nothing soothes a nettle stinglike philosophy and dock-leaf; so I shall rub a little of the leaf on myhand and then sit awhile on the Hole Farm gate here to philosophizeabout nettles and things generally, as is my humble wont. There is agreat deal more in nettles, I believe, than most people are apt toimagine; indeed, the nettle-philosophy at present current with thelarger part of the world seems to me lamentably one-sided. As a rule, the sting is the only point in the whole organization of the family overwhich we ever waste a single thought. This is our ordinary humannarrowness; in each plant or animal we interest ourselves about that onepart alone which has special reference to our own relations with it, forgood or for evil. In a strawberry, we think only of the fruit; in ahawthorn, or the flowers; in a deadly nightshade, of the poisonousberry; and in a nettle, of the sting. Now, I frankly admit at thepresent moment that the nettle sting has an obtrusive and unnecessarilypungent way of forcing itself upon the human attention; but it does notsum up the whole life-history of the plant in its own one peculiarityfor all that. The nettle exists for its own sake, we may be sure, andnot merely for the sake of occasionally inflicting a passing smart uponthe meddlesome human fingers. 

However, the sting itself, viewed philosophically, is not withoutdecided interest of its own. It is one, and perhaps the most highlydeveloped, among the devices by which plants guard themselves againstthe attacks of animals. Weeds and shrubs with juicy, tender leaves arevery apt to be eaten down by rabbits, cows, donkeys and otherherbivores. But if any individuals among such species happen to show anytendency to the development of any unpleasant habit, which prevents theherbivores from eating them, then those particular individuals will ofcourse be spared when their neighbors are eaten, and will establish anew and specially protected variety in the course of successivegenerations. It does not matter what the peculiarity may be, providedonly it in any way deters animals from eating the plant. In the arum, aviolently acrid juice is secreted in the leaves, so as to burn the mouthof the aggressor. In the dandelion and wild lettuces, the juice ismerely bitter. In houndstongue and catmint it has a nauseous taste. Thenagain, in the hawthorn and the blackthorn, some of the shorter brancheshave developed into stout, sharp spines, which tear the skin of would-beassailants. In the brambles, the hairs on the stem have thickened intopointed prickles, which answer the same purpose as the spines of theirneighbors. In the thistles, the gorse and the holly, once more, it isthe angles of the leaves themselves, which have grown into needle-likepoints so as to deter animals from browsing upon them. But the nettleprobably carries the same tendency to the furthest possible limit. Notcontent with mere defense, it is to some extent actively aggressive. Thehairs which clothe it have become filled with a poisonous, irritatingjuice, and when any herbivore thrusts his tender nose into the midst ofa clump, the sharp points pierce his naked skin, the liquid gets intohis veins in the very neighborhood of the most sensitive nerves, and thepoor creature receives at once a lifelong warning against attackingnettles in future. 

The way in which so curious a device has grown up is not, it seems tome, very difficult to guess. Many plants are armed with small sharphairs which act as a protection to them against the incursions of antsand other destructive insects. These hairs are often enough more or lessglandular in structure, and therefore liable to contain various wasteproducts of the plant. Suppose one of these waste products in theancestors of the nettle to be at first slightly pungent, by accident, asit were, then it would exercise a slightly deterrent effect uponnettle-eating animals. The more stinging it grew, the more effectualwould the protection be; and as in each generation the least protectedplants would get eaten down, while the more protected were spared, thetendency would be for the juice to grow more and more stinging till atlast it reached the present high point of development. It is noticeable, too, that in our warrens and wild places, most of the plants are thusmore or less protected in one way or another from the attacks ofanimals. These neglected spots are overgrown with gorse, brambles, nettles, blackthorn, and mullein, as well as with the bitter spurges, and the stringy inedible bracken. So, too, while in our meadows wepurposely propagate tender fodder plants, like grasses and clovers, wefind on the margins of our pastures and by our roadsides only protectedspecies; such as thistles, houndstongue, cuckoo-pint, charlock, nettles(once more), and thorn bushes. The cattle or the rabbits eat down atonce all juicy and succulent plants, leaving only these nauseous orprickly kinds, together with such stringy and innutritious weeds aschervil, plantain, and burdock. Here we see the mechanism of naturalselection at work under our very eyes. 

But the sting certainly does not exhaust the whole philosophy of thenettle. Look, for example, at the stem and leaves. The nettle has foundits chance in life, its one fitting vacancy, among the ditches andwaste-places by roadsides or near cottages; and it has laid itself outfor the circumstances in which it lives. Its near relative, the hop, isa twisting climber; its southern cousins, the fig and the mulberry, aretall and spreading trees. But the nettle has made itself a niche innature along the bare patches which diversify human cultivation; and ithas adapted its stem and leaves to the station in life where it haspleased Providence to place it. Plants like the dock, the burdock, andthe rhubarb, which lift their leaves straight above the ground, fromlarge subterranean reservoirs of material, have usually big, broad, undivided leaves, that overshadow all beneath them, and push boldly outon every side to drink in the air and the sunlight. On the other hand, regular hedgerow plants, like cleavers, chervil, herb Robert, milfoil, and most ferns, which grow in the tangled shady undermath of the bankand thickets, have usually slender, bladelike, much-divided leaves, allsplit up into little long narrow pushing segments, because they cannotget sunlight and air enough to build up a single large respectablerounded leaf. 

The nettle is just halfway between these two extremes. It does not growout broad and solitary like the burdock, nor does it creep under thehedges like the little much-divided wayside weeds; but it springs uperect in tall, thick, luxuriant clumps, growing close together, eachstem fringed with a considerable number of moderate-sized, heart-shaped, toothed and pointed leaves. Such leaves have just room enough to expandand to extract from the air all the carbon they need for their growth, without encroaching upon one another's food supply (for it must alwaysbe borne in mind that leaves grow out of the air, not, as most peoplefancy, out of the ground), and so without the consequent necessity fordividing up into little separate narrow segments. Accordingly, this typeof leaf is very common among all those plants which spring up beside thehedgerows in the same erect shrubby manner as the nettles. 

Then, again, there is the flower of the nettle, which in most plants isso much the most conspicuous part of all. Yet in this particular plantit is so unobtrusive that most people never notice its existence in anyway. That is because the nettle is wind-fertilized, and so does notneed bright and attractive petals. Here are the flowering branches, alot of little forked antler-like spikes, sticking out at right anglesfrom the stem, and half concealed by the leaves of the row above them. Like many other wind-fertilized flowers, the stamens and pistils arecollected on different plants--a plan which absolutely insurescross-fertilization, without the aid of the insects. I pick one of thestamen-bearing clusters, and can see that it is made up of smallseparate green blossoms, each with four tiny leaf-like petals, and withfour stamens doubled up in the center. I touch the flowers with the tipof my pocket knife, and in a second the four stamens jump outelastically as if alive, and dust the white pollen all over my fingers. Why should they act like this? Such tricks are not uncommon inbee-fertilized flowers, because they insure the pollen being shed onlywhen a bee thrusts his head into the blossom; but what use can thisdevice be to the wind-fertilized nettle? I think the object is somewhatafter this fashion. If the pollen were shed during perfectly calmweather, it would simply fall upon the ground, without reaching thepistils of neighboring plants at all. But by having the stamens thusdoubled up, with elastic stalks, it happens that even when ripe they donot open and shed the pollen unless upon the occurrence of some slightconcussion. This concussion is given when the stems are waved about bythe wind; and then the pollen is shaken out under circumstances whichgive it the best chance of reaching the pistil. 

Finally, there is the question of fruit. In the fig and mulberry thefruit is succulent, and depends for its dispersion upon birds andanimals. In the nettle it takes the form of a tiny, seed-like, flattenednut. Why is this, again? One might as well ask, why are we not all LordChancellors or Presidents of the Royal Academy. Each plant and eachanimal makes the best of such talents as it has got, and gets on bytheir aid; but all have not the same talents. One survives by dint ofits prickles; another by dint of its attractive flowers; a third by itssweet fruit; a fourth by its hard nut-shell. As regards stings, thenettle is one of the best protected plants; as regards flower and fruit, it is merely one of the ruck. Every plant can only take advantage of anystray chances it happens to possess; and the same advantageoustendencies do not show themselves in all alike. It is said that once acertain American, hearing of the sums which Canova got for hishandicraft, took his son to the great man's studio, and inquired howmuch he would ask to make the boy a sculptor. But there is no evidenceto show that that aspiring youth ever produced an Aphrodite or aDiscobolus. 

WASHINGTON IRVING

During the course of the revolution that changed the British colonies inAmerica into the United States, there was born in the city of New Yorkthe first great writer of this new nation, Washington Irving. Theparents of Irving had been in America but twenty years, the father beingScotch and the mother English, yet they sympathized so fully with thecolonists that they spent much of their time and means in caring for thesoldiers held as prisoners by the British. 

The mother was unusually warm-hearted and charitable, but the father, though a kind and conscientious man, was very strict, especially indealing with his children. He seemed to feel that nearly every kind ofamusement that young people delighted in was sinful, and he held upbefore his children such sober ways of living that Washington at leastcame to think that everything pleasant was wicked. No amount ofsternness, however, could keep the five boys of the family and theirthree sisters wholly out of mischief, nor hinder them from having many aharmless good time. 

[Illustration: Washington Irving 1783-1859]

After spending two years in a primary school, Washington was sent whensix years old to a school kept by a soldier who had fought in theRevolution, a man who dealt most harshly with disorderly pupils. ThoughWashington was always breaking rules, he was so honest in admittingthe wrong done that the teacher had a particular liking for him, andwould call him by the envied title of "General. " To bear this title, aswell as the name of the foremost American of that time, and to havereceived a blessing from the great Washington himself, was honor enoughfor one boy. 

Though it was not till several years later that he first went to thetheater, yet when he was about ten he was fond of acting the part ofsome warrior knight of whom he had read, and would challenge one of hiscompanions to a duel in the yard, where they would fight desperatelywith wooden swords. About this time, too, he came upon _Robinson Crusoe_and _Sindbad the Sailor_, and thus was awakened a great delight in booksof travel and adventure. Most pleasing of all was _The World Displayed_, a series of volumes in which one could read of voyages to the mostdistant parts of the world. How exciting it was to read these booksunder cover of his desk at school, or in bed at night by the light ofcandles smuggled into his room! It is no wonder that he grew to wishwith all his heart that he could go to sea, and that he haunted thewharves watching the out-going vessels. 

When only fifteen years old, Washington finished his schooling. In laterlife he was always very sorry that he had not been sent to college atthis time. Within a year he began the study of law, but he went at hiswork in such a half-hearted way that although he passed his examinationin 1806, he was really very poorly fitted for his calling. 

The last two years of this time had been passed in Europe, where he hadbeen sent to recover his health; and it is safe to say that thoughts ofhis legal studies troubled young Irving but little during thisinteresting trip. If as a boy he had been thrilled merely in reading ofvoyages and travels, what was now his pleasure in journeying through onestrange scene after another and meeting with such exciting adventures asthat which befell him on the way from Genoa to Sicily, when the vesselon which he was sailing was boarded by pirates. On this occasion, as hecould translate the questions of the attacking party and could answerthese men in their own tongue, he was forced to go on the pirate ship, among an evil-looking crew, armed with stilettos, cutlasses and pistols, and act as interpreter before the captain. As it turned out that thebooty was too small to be worth taking, Irving and his companionsescaped without hurt. In the course of his further travels he foundespecial delight in the works of art at Rome, and in attending thetheater and opera in Paris and London. 

In January, 1807, several months after his return to America, Irving, with one of his brothers and a friend, began to publish _Salmagundi_, amagazine containing humorous articles on the social life of New York. This became so popular that twenty numbers were issued. Having found somuch of interest in the life of his native city, Irving next wrote acomic _History of New York, by Diedrich Knickerbocker_, dealing with theearly period when the city was ruled by the Dutch. The novel way inwhich this work was announced would do credit to the most cleveradvertiser. About six weeks before the book was published, appeared thisnotice in the _Evening Post_:

"_Distressing. _

"Left his lodgings some time since, and has not since been heard of, asmall elderly gentleman, dressed in an old black coat and cocked hat, bythe name of Knickerbocker. As there are some reasons for believing he isnot entirely in his right mind, and as great anxiety is entertainedabout him, any information concerning him left either at the ColumbianHotel, Mulberry Street, or at the office of this paper, will be_thankfully_ received. 

"P. S. --Printers of newspapers would be aiding the cause of humanity bygiving an insertion to the above. --Oct. 25. "

Almost two weeks later a notice signed _A Traveler_, told that the oldman had been seen resting by the road over which the Albany stage coachpassed. Then in ten days followed this amusing letter to the editor ofthe _Post_:

"Sir:--You have been good enough to publish in your paper a paragraphabout Mr. Diedrich Knickerbocker, who was missing so strangely from hislodgings some time since. Nothing satisfactory has been heard of the oldgentleman since; but a _very curious kind of a written book_ has beenfound in his room in his own handwriting. Now I wish you to notice him, if he is still alive, that if he does not return and pay off his billfor board and lodging, I shall have to dispose of his Book, to satisfyme for the same. "

Needless to say, the book was issued in due time, and it was warmlywelcomed not only in the United States but in England. 

This year of great literary success was also one of the saddest inIrving's life. He had become deeply attached to Matilda Hoffman, daughter of one of the lawyers under whom he had studied, and waslooking forward to the time when she should become his wife. The deathof the young girl in 1809 caused a grief so deep that Irving almostnever spoke of it. He remained true to the memory of this early lovethroughout his life, and never married. 

By this time it had become plain that Irving could write with far moreeffect than he could ever hope to practice law. Yet the idea of usinghis pen in order to earn a living, not merely for his own amusement, wasso distasteful to him that he put aside the thought of a literarycareer. Had he not had two kind and indulgent brothers, it might havegone hard with him at this time; but he was given a one-fifth share intheir business, and being only a silent partner was allowed to spend histime in whatever ways he pleased. 

In 1815, however, it became necessary for him to take his brotherPeter's place for a time at the head of that part of the business whichwas carried on in Liverpool. Though he was a loyal American, he foundEngland so much to his liking that there is no telling how long afterhis brother's recovery he would have kept on living in his half-idle wayin his pleasant surroundings, had not the business in which he wasinterested failed in 1818. Thus roused to effort, he began publishing in1819 the highly popular _Sketch Book_, by Geoffrey Crayon, a series ofstories and essays in the first number of which appeared, with others, _Rip Van Winkle. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_ was contained in a laterissue. _Bracebridge Hall_ and _Tales of a_ _Traveller_, of the samenature as the _Sketch Book_, followed soon afterward, all three beingsent to America and being published also in England. 

A new and more serious kind of work opened before Irving in 1826 when hewas invited to Madrid by the United States minister, to make atranslation of Navarrete's _Voyages of Columbus_. Instead oftranslating, however, he wrote a valuable original work entitled the_Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus_. Thus was awakened his deepinterest in the romantic history and legends of Spain. He traveled aboutthe country, staying for several weeks in the celebrated palace of theAlhambra, studied rare old books, and as a result produced several otherworks upon Spanish subjects. Of these _The Conquest of Granada_ waswritten before he left Spain and _The Alhambra_ was completed in Englandafter his return in 1829 to fill the office of secretary of legation. 

In 1824 Irving had written to a friend in America concerning New York:"There is a charm about that little spot of earth; that beautiful cityand its environs, that has a perfect spell over my imagination. The bay, the rivers and their wild and woody shores, the haunts of my boyhood, both on land and water, absolutely have a witchery over my mind. I thankGod for my having been born in so beautiful a place among such beautifulscenery; I am convinced I owe a vast deal of what is good and pleasantin my nature to the circumstance. " It was not, however, until 1832 thathe was able to return to his much-loved birthplace. Then, afterseventeen years' absence, during which he had become a very famouswriter, he was welcomed with the warmest greetings and the highesthonors of his townspeople. 

It was not long before he made a tour through the far West, --through thewilds of Missouri and Arkansas. From a point in the latter region hewrote of his party as "depending upon game, such as deer, elk, bear, forfood, encamping on the borders of brooks, and sleeping in the open airunder trees, with outposts stationed to guard us against any surprise bythe Indians. " The beautiful scenery and exciting events that marked thistrip now part of the volume of _Crayon Miscellany_. 

Having been a wanderer for a good many years, Irving now began to wishfor a home. Accordingly he bought a little estate near Tarrytown on theHudson River, and had the cottage on this land made over into "a littlenookery somewhat in the Dutch style, quaint, but unpretending. " In thefirst years spent in this pleasant home he contributed articles to the_Knickerbocker Magazine_, later collected and published under the titleof _Wolfert's Roost_, and wrote _Abbotsford_ and _Newstead Abbey_, nowpart of the volume of _Crayon Miscellany_. 

So smoothly did the home life at Sunnyside flow along that Irving wasnone too well pleased to separate himself from it in 1842 when appointedminister of the United States to Spain. Nevertheless, he looked uponthis event as the "crowning hour" of his life. 

During the thirteen years that remained to him after returning toSunnyside in 1846, he produced the _Life of Mahomet and his Successors_, a _Life of Goldsmith_, an author whom he especially admired andappreciated, and a biography of his celebrated namesake, which, thoughentitled a _Life of Washington_, is nothing less than a history of theRevolution. In the very year this last great work was completed, Irvingdied, surrounded by the household to whom he had become so much endeared(November 28, 1859). 

In his writings Washington Irving has shown himself so gentle andunpretentious and so large-hearted, that his words concerning OliverGoldsmith seem to apply with equal fitness to himself: "There are fewwriters for whom the reader feels such personal kindness. " These samequalities were revealed also day by day in the smallest incidents of hislife. Perhaps they were never more simply illustrated than on theoccasion when he was traveling in a railway car behind a woman with twosmall children and a baby who was being constantly disturbed by theolder children's efforts to climb to a seat by the window. Having takenin the situation, Irving began lifting first one and then the other ofthe little ones into his lap, allowing each just three minutes at thewindow, and this he continued until they had had enough, and thegrateful mother had enjoyed a needed rest. Apparently he bore ill-willtoward no one, and his ever-ready humor helped him to view the lives ofothers without harshness. Thus it is not only as a great literaryartist, but as an American of the most worthy type, that he has wonlasting honor. 

THE KNICKERBOCKER HISTORY OF NEW YORK

_By_ WASHINGTON IRVING

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

_A History of New York by Diedrich Knickerbocker_ was published in 1809. Nearly forty years later Washington Irving, the real author, says it washis purpose in the history to embody the traditions of New York in anamusing form, to illustrate its local humors, customs and peculiaritiesin a whimsical narrative, which should help to bind the heart of thenative inhabitant to his home. He adds:

"In this I have reason to believe I have in some measure succeeded. Before the appearance of my work the popular traditions of our city wereunrecorded; the peculiar and racy customs and usages derived from ourDutch Progenitors were unnoticed, or regarded with indifference, oradverted to with a sneer. Now they form a convivial currency, and arebrought forward on all occasions: they link our whole community togetherin good humor and good fellowship; they are the rallying-points of homefeeling, the seasoning of our civic festivities, the staple of localtales and local pleasantries; and are so harped upon by our writers ofpopular fiction that I find myself almost crowded off the legendaryground which I was the first to explore by the host who have followedin my footsteps. 

"I dwell on this head because, at the first appearance of my work, itsaim and drift were misapprehended by some of the descendants of theDutch worthies, and because I understand that now and then one may stillbe found to regard it with a captious eye. The far greater part, however, I have reason to flatter myself, receive my good-humoredpicturings in the same temper in which they were executed; and when Ifind, after a lapse of nearly forty years, this haphazard production ofmy youth still cherished among them; when I find its very name become a'household word' and used to give the home stamp to everythingrecommended for popular acceptation, such as Knickerbocker societies;Knickerbocker insurance companies; Knickerbocker steamboats;Knickerbocker omnibuses; Knickerbocker bread; and Knickerbocker ice; andwhen I find New Yorkers of Dutch descent priding themselves upon being'genuine Knickerbockers, ' I please myself with the persuasion that Ihave struck the right chord; that my dealings with the good Dutch times, and the customs and usages derived from them, are in harmony with thefeelings and humors of my townsmen; that I have opened a vein ofpleasant associations and quaint characteristics peculiar to my nativeplace, and which its inhabitants will not willingly suffer to pass away;and that, though other histories of New York may appear of higher claimsto learned acceptation, and may take their dignified and appropriaterank in the family library, Knickerbocker's history will still bereceived with good-humored indulgence, and be thumbed and chuckled overby the family fireside. "

To give color to his fancy, Irving created the fanciful character ofDiedrich Knickerbocker, whom he describes as follows:

"He was a small, brisk-looking old gentleman, dressed in a rusty blackcoat and a pair of olive velvet breeches and a small cocked hat. He hada few gray hairs plaited and clubbed behind. The only piece of finerywhich he bore about him was a bright pair of square silver shoe buckles, and all his baggage was contained in a pair of saddle bags which hecarried under his arm. "

He was "a very worthy good sort of an old gentleman, though a littlequeer in his ways. He would keep in his room for days together, and ifany of the children cried or made a noise about his door he would bounceout in a great passion, with his hands full of papers and say somethingabout 'deranging his ideas'. "

According to the tale which Irving invented he resided for some time atthe Independent Columbian Hotel, and from this place he disappeared, leaving his bills unpaid. However, in the saddle bag which he didn'ttake from his room the landlord found the manuscript of the _History ofNew York_, and published it in order to secure pay for the oldgentleman's board. 

The book met with marked success, and shortly after its publication alarge part of New York was laughing at its humorous details, andIrving's estimate of its popularity as given above was modest indeed. 

The history consists of eight books, the first of which, in irony ofsome histories which had previously been published, gives a descriptionof the world and a history of its creation, and in brief, the story ofNoah and the discovery of America, and a dissertation on the origin ofthe American Indian. 

The second book contains an account of Hudson's discovery of the riverthat bears his name and of the settlement of New Amsterdam. 

A book is given to each of the first two Dutch governors, and threebooks to the rule of Peter Stuyvesant. The history then terminates withthe surrender of New Amsterdam to the British. 

The selections which appear here have been chosen for their rich humorrather than for their historical value, although, in his quaint way, Irving gives us a picture of the early Dutch settlers that is in manyrespects remarkably true to life. His exaggerations are usually sonoticeable that it is not difficult to separate truth from fiction. 

THE FOUNDING OF NEW AMSTERDAM

It was some three or four years after the return of the immortalHendrick that a crew of honest, Low Dutch colonists set sail from thecity of Amsterdam for the shores of America. 

The ship in which these illustrious adventurers set sail was called the_Goede Vrouw_, or Good Woman, in compliment to the wife of the presidentof the West India Company, who was allowed by everybody (except herhusband) to be a sweet-tempered lady. It was in truth a most gallantvessel, of the most approved Dutch construction, and made by the ablestship carpenters of Amsterdam, who it is well known always model theirships after the fair forms of their countrywomen. Accordingly, it hadone hundred feet in the beam, one hundred feet in the keel, and onehundred feet from the bottom of the sternpost to the tafferel. 

The architect, who was somewhat of a religious man, far from decoratingthe ship with pagan idols, such as Jupiter, Neptune, or Hercules (whichheathenish abominations I have no doubt occasion the misfortunes andshipwreck of many a noble vessel)--he, I say, on the contrary, didlaudably erect for a head a goodly image of Saint Nicholas, equippedwith a low, broad-brimmed hat, a huge pair of Flemish trunk hose, and apipe that reached to the end of the bow-sprit. Thus gallantly furnished, the stanch ship floated sideways, like a majestic goose, out of theharbor of the great city of Amsterdam, and all the bells that were nototherwise engaged rang a triple bobmajor on the joyful occasion. 

The voyage was uncommonly prosperous, for, being under the especial careof the ever-revered Saint Nicholas, the Goede Vrouw seemed to be endowedwith qualities unknown to common vessels. Thus she made as much leewayas headway, could get along very nearly as fast with the wind ahead aswhen it was apoop, and was particularly great in a calm; in consequenceof which singular advantages she made out to accomplish her voyage in avery few months, and came to anchor at the mouth of the Hudson a littleto the east of Gibbet Island. 

Here, lifting up their eyes, they beheld, on what is at present calledthe Jersey shore, a small Indian village, pleasantly embowered in agrove of spreading elms, and the natives all collected on the beachgazing in stupid admiration at the Goede Vrouw. A boat was immediatelydispatched to enter into a treaty with them, and, approaching the shore, hailed them through a trumpet in the most friendly terms; but sohorribly confounded were these poor savages at the tremendous anduncouth sound of the Low Dutch language that they one and all took totheir heels, and scampered over the Bergen hills; nor did they stopuntil they had buried themselves, head and ears, in the marshes on theother side, where they all miserably perished to a man, and their bones, being collected and decently covered by the Tammany Society of that day, formed that singular mound called Rattlesnake Hill which rises out ofthe center of the salt marshes a little to the east of the Newarkcauseway. 

Animated by this unlooked-for victory, our valiant heroes sprang ashorein triumph, took possession of the soil as conquerors in the name oftheir High Mightinesses the Lords States General, and, marchingfearlessly forward, carried the village of Communipaw by storm, notwithstanding that it was vigorously defended by some half a score ofold squaws and pappooses. On looking about them they were so transportedwith the excellencies of the place that they had very little doubt theblessed Saint Nicholas had guided them thither as the very spot whereonto settle their colony. The softness of the soil was wonderfully adaptedto the driving of piles; the swamps and marshes around them affordedample opportunities for the constructing of dykes and dams; theshallowness of the shore was peculiarly favorable to the building ofdocks--in a word this spot abounded with all the requisites for thefoundation of a great Dutch city. On making a faithful report, therefore, to the crew of the Goede Vrouw, they one and all determinedthat this was the destined end of their voyage. Accordingly theydescended from the Goede Vrouw, men, women, and children, in goodlygroups, as did the animals of yore from the ark, and formed themselvesinto a thriving settlement, which they called by the Indian nameCommunipaw. 

The crew of the Goede Vrouw being soon reinforced by fresh importationsfrom Holland, the settlement went jollily on, increasing in magnitudeand prosperity. The neighboring Indians in a short time becameaccustomed to the uncouth sound of the Dutch language, and anintercourse gradually took place between them and the newcomers. 

A brisk trade for furs was soon opened: the Dutch traders werescrupulously honest in their dealings, and purchased by weight, establishing it as an invariable table of avoirdupois that the hand of aDutchman weighed one pound and his foot two pounds. 

It is true the simple Indians were often puzzled by the greatdisproportion between bulk and weight, for let them place a bundle offurs, never so large, in one scale, and a Dutchman put his hand or footin the other, the bundle was sure to kick the beam--never was a packageof furs known to weigh more than two pounds in the market of Communipaw!

The Dutch possessions in this part of the globe began now to assume avery thriving appearance, and were comprehended under the general titleof Nieuw Nederlandts, on account, as the sage Vander Douck observes, oftheir great resemblance to the Dutch Netherlands; which indeed was trulyremarkable, excepting that the former were rugged and mountainous, andthe latter level and marshy. About this time the tranquility of theDutch colonists was doomed to suffer a temporary interruption. In 1614, Captain Sir Samuel Argal, sailing under a commission from Dale, governorof Virginia, visited the Dutch settlements on Hudson River and demandedtheir submission to the English crown and Virginian dominion. To thisarrogant demand, as they were in no condition to resist it, theysubmitted for the time, like discreet and reasonable men. 

Oloffe Van Kortlandt, a personage who was held in great reverence amongthe sages of Communipaw for the variety and darkness of his knowledge, had originally been one of a set of peripatetic philosophers who hadpassed much of their time sunning themselves on the side of the greatcanal of Amsterdam in Holland, enjoying, like Diogenes, a free andunencumbered estate in sunshine. His name Kortlandt (Shortland orLackland) was supposed, like that of the illustrious Jean Sansterre, toindicate that he had _no land_; but he insisted, on the contrary, thathe had great landed estates somewhere in Terra Incognita, and he hadcome out to the New World to look after them. He was the first greatland speculator that we read of in these parts. 

Like all land speculators, he was much given to dreaming. Never didanything extraordinary happen to Communipaw but he declared that he hadpreviously dreamt it, being one of those infallible prophets who predictevents after they have come to pass. 

As yet his dreams and speculations had turned to little personal profit, and he was as much a lackland as ever. Still, he carried a high head inthe community; if his sugar-loaf hat was rather the worse for wear, heset it off with a taller cock's tail; if his shirt was none of thecleanest, he pulled it out the more at the bosom; and if the tail of itpeeped out of a hole in his breeches, it at least proved that it reallyhad a tail and was not mere ruffle. 

The worthy Van Kortlandt urged the policy of emerging from the swamps ofCommunipaw and seeking some more eligible site for the seat of empire. Such, he said, was the advice of the good Saint Nicholas, who hadappeared to him in a dream the night before, and whom he had known byhis broad hat, his long pipe, and the resemblance which he bore to thefigure on the bow of the Goede Vrouw. 

This perilous enterprise was to be conducted by Oloffe himself, whochose as lieutenants or coadjutors Mynheers Jacobus Van Zandt, AbrahamHardenbroeck, and Winant Ten Broeck--three indubitably great men, but ofwhose history, although I have made diligent inquiry, I can learn butlittle previous to their leaving Holland. 

Had I the benefit of mythology and classic fable, I should havefurnished the first of the trio with a pedigree equal to that of theproudest hero of antiquity. His name, Van Zandt--that is to say, _fromthe sand_, or, in common parlance, from the dirt--gave reason to supposethat, like Triptolemus, the Cyclops, and the Titans, he had sprung fromDame Terra, or the earth! This supposition is strongly corroborated byhis size, for it is well known that all the progeny of mother earth wereof a gigantic stature; and Van Zandt, we are told, was a tall, raw-bonedman, above six feet high, with an astonishingly hard head. 

Of the second of the trio but faint accounts have reached to this time, which mention that he was a sturdy, obstinate, worrying, bustling littleman, and, from being usually equipped in an old pair of buckskins, wasfamiliarly dubbed Hardenbroeck; that is to say, Tough Breeches. 

Ten Broeck completed this junto of adventurers. It is a singular butludicrous fact--which, were I not scrupulous in recording the wholetruth, I should almost be tempted to pass over in silence asincompatible with the gravity and dignity of history--that this worthygentleman should likewise have been nicknamed from what in modern timesis considered the most ignoble part of the dress; but in truth thesmall-clothes seem to have been a very dignified garment in the eyes ofour venerated ancestors. 

The name of Ten Broeck, or, as it was sometimes spelled, Tin Broeck, hasbeen indifferently translated into Ten Breeches and Tin Breeches. Certain elegant and ingenious writers on the subject declare in favor of_Tin_, or rather _Thin_, Breeches; whence they infer that the originalbearer of it was a poor but merry rogue, whose galligaskins were none ofthe soundest, and who, peradventure, may have been the author of thattruly philosophical stanza:

 "Then why should we quarrel for riches, Or any such glittering toys? A light heart and _thin pair of breeches_ Will go through the world, my brave boys!"

The more accurate commentators, however, declare in favor of the otherreading, and affirm that the worthy in question was a burly, bulbousman, who, in sheer ostentation of his venerable progenitors, was thefirst to introduce into the settlement the ancient Dutch fashion of tenpair of breeches. 

Such was the trio of coadjutors chosen by Oloffe the Dreamer, toaccompany him in this voyage into unknown realms; as to the names of hiscrews, they have not been handed down by history. 

And now the rosy blush of morn began to mantle in the east, and soon therising sun, emerging from amid golden and purple clouds, shed hisblithesome rays on the tin weathercocks of Communipaw. It was thatdelicious season of the year when Nature, breaking from the chillingthralldom of old winter, like a blooming damsel from the tyranny of asordid old father, threw herself, blushing with ten thousand charms, into the arms of youthful spring. Every tufted copse and blooming groveresounded with the notes of hymeneal love. The very insects, as theysipped the dew that gemmed the tender grass of meadows, joined in thejoyous epithalamium, the virgin bud timidly put forth its blushes, "thevoice of the turtle was heard in the land, " and the heart of mandissolved away in tenderness. 

No sooner did the first rays of cheerful Phoebus dart into thewindows of Communipaw than the little settlement was all in motion. Forth issued from his castle the sage Van Kortlandt, and, seizing aconch-shell, blew a far-resounding blast, that soon summoned all hislusty followers. Then did they trudge resolutely down to the waterside, escorted by a multitude of relatives and friends, who all went down, asthe common phrase expresses it, "to see them off. "

The good Oloffe bestowed his forces in a squadron of three canoes, andhoisted his flag on board a little round Dutch boat, shaped not unlike atub, which had formerly been the jolly-boat of the Goede Vrouw. And now, all being embarked, they bade farewell to the gazing throng upon thebeach, who continued shouting after them even when out of hearing, wishing them a happy voyage, advising them to take good care ofthemselves, not to get drowned, with an abundance other of those sageand invaluable cautions generally given by landsmen to such as go downto the sea in ships and adventure upon the deep waters. In themeanwhile, the voyagers cheerily urged their course across the crystalbosom of the bay and soon left behind them the green shores of ancientPavonia. 

They coasted by Governor's Island, since terrible from its frowningfortress and grinning batteries. They would by no means, however, landupon this island, since they doubted much it might be the abode ofdemons and spirits, which in those days did greatly abound throughoutthis savage and pagan country. 

Just at this time a shoal of jolly porpoises came rolling and tumblingby, turning up their sleek sides to the sun and spouting up the brinyelement in sparkling showers. No sooner did the sage Oloffe mark thisthan he was greatly rejoiced. "This, " exclaimed he, "if I mistake not, augurs well; the porpoise is a fat, well-conditioned fish, a burgomasteramong fishes; his looks betoken ease, plenty, and prosperity; I greatlyadmire this round fat fish, and doubt not but this is a happy omen ofthe success of our undertaking. " So saying, he directed his squadron tosteer in the track of these alderman fishes. 

Turning, therefore, directly to the left, they swept up the straitvulgarly called the East River. And here the rapid tide which coursesthrough this strait, seizing on the gallant tub in which Commodore VanKortlandt had embarked, hurried it forward with a velocity unparalleledin a Dutch boat navigated by Dutchmen; insomuch that the good Commodore, who had all his life long been accustomed only to the drowsy navigationof canals, was more than ever convinced that they were in the hands ofsome supernatural power, and that the jolly porpoises were towing themto some fair haven that was to fulfill all their wishes andexpectations. 

Thus borne away by the resistless current, they doubled that boisterouspoint of land since called Corlear's Hook, and leaving to the right therich winding cove of the Wallabout, they drifted into a magnificentexpanse of water, surrounded by pleasant shores whose verdure wasexceedingly refreshing to the eye. While the voyagers were lookingaround them on what they conceived to be a serene and sunny lake, theybeheld at a distance a crew of painted savages busily employed infishing, who seemed more like the genii of this romantic region, theirslender canoe lightly balanced like a feather on the undulating surfaceof the bay. 

At sight of these the hearts of the heroes of Communipaw were not alittle troubled. But, as good fortune would have it, at the bow of thecommodore's boat was stationed a very valiant man, named Hendrick Kip(which, being interpreted, means _chicken_, a name given him in token ofhis courage). No sooner did he behold these varlet heathens than hetrembled with excessive valor, and although a good half mile distant heseized a musketoon that lay at hand, and, turning away his head, firedit most intrepidly in the face of the blessed sun. The blundering weaponrecoiled and gave the valiant Kip an ignominious kick, which laid himprostrate with uplifted heels in the bottom of the boat. But such wasthe effect of this tremendous fire that the wild men of the woods, struck with consternation, seized hastily upon their paddles and shotaway into one of the deep inlets of the Long Island shore. 

This signal victory gave new spirits to the voyagers, and in honor ofthe achievement they gave the name of the valiant Kip to the surroundingbay, and it has continued to be called Kip's Bay from that time to thepresent. The heart of the good Van Kortlandt--who, having no land of hisown, was a great admirer of other people's--expanded to the full size ofa peppercorn at the sumptuous prospect of rich, unsettled country aroundhim, and falling into a delicious reverie he straightway began to riotin the possession of vast meadows of salt marsh and interminable patchesof cabbages. From this delectable vision he was all at once awakened bythe sudden turning of the tide, which would soon have hurried him fromthis land of promise, had not the discreet navigator given the signal tosteer for shore, where they accordingly landed hard by the rocky heightsof Bellevue--that happy retreat where our jolly aldermen eat for thegood of the city and fatten the turtle that are sacrificed on civicsolemnities. 

[Illustration: HERE THEY REFRESHED THEMSELVES]

Here, seated on the green sward, by the side of a small stream that ransparkling among the grass, they refreshed themselves after the toils ofthe seas by feasting lustily on the ample stores which they had providedfor this perilous voyage. 

By this time the jolly Phoebus, like some wanton urchin sporting onthe side of a green hill, began to roll down the declivity of theheavens; and now, the tide having once more turned in their favor, thePavonians again committed themselves to its discretion, and, coastingalong the western shores, were borne toward the straits of Blackwell'sIsland. 

And here the capricious wanderings of the current occasioned not alittle marvel and perplexity to these illustrious mariners. Now wouldthey be caught by the wanton eddies, and, sweeping around a juttingpoint, would wind deep into some romantic little cave, that indented thefair island of Manna-hata; now were they hurried narrowly by the verybasis of impending rocks, mantled with the flaunting grape-vine andcrowned with groves which threw a broad shade on the waves beneath; andanon they were borne away into the mid-channel and wafted along with arapidity that very much discomposed the sage Van Kortlandt, who as hesaw the land swiftly receding on either side, began exceedingly to doubtthat terra firma was giving them the slip. 

Wherever the voyagers turned their eyes a new creation seemed to bloomaround. No signs of human thrift appeared to check the deliciouswildness of Nature, who here reveled in all her luxuriant variety. Thosehills, now bristled, like the fretful porcupine, with rows of poplars(vain upstart plants! minions of wealth and fashion!), were then adornedwith the vigorous natives of the soil--the hardy oak, the generouschestnut, the graceful elm--while here and there the tulip tree rearedits majestic head, the giant of the forest. Where now are seen the gayretreats of luxury--villas half buried in twilight bowers, whence theamorous flute oft breathes the sighings of some city swain--there thefish-hawk built his solitary nest on some dry tree that overlooked hiswatery domain. The timid deer fed undisturbed along those shores nowhallowed by the lover's moonlight walk and printed by the slender footof beauty; and a savage solitude extended over those happy regions wherenow are reared the stately towers of the Joneses, the Schermerhornes, and the Rhinelanders. 

Ah! witching scenes of foul delusion! Ah! hapless voyagers, gazing withsimple wonder on these Circean shores! Such, alas! are they, poor easysouls who listen to the seductions of a wicked world--treacherous areits smiles, fatal its caresses. He who yields to its enticementslaunches upon a whelming tide, and trusts his feeble bark among thedimpling eddies of a whirlpool! And thus it fared with the worthies ofPavonia, who, little mistrusting the guileful scene before them, driftedquietly on until they were aroused by an uncommon tossing and agitationof their vessels. For now the late dimpling current began to brawlaround them and the waves to boil and foam with horrific fury. Awakenedas if from a dream, the astonished Oloffe bawled aloud to put about, buthis words were lost amid the roaring of the waters. And now ensued ascene of direful consternation. At one time they were borne withdreadful velocity among tumultuous breakers; at another hurried downboisterous rapids. Now they were nearly dashed upon the Hen and Chickens(infamous rocks!--more voracious than Scylla and her whelps), and anonthey seemed sinking into yawning gulfs that threatened to entomb thembeneath the waves. All the elements combined to produce a hideousconfusion. The waters raged, the winds howled, and as they were hurriedalong several of the astonished mariners beheld the rocks and trees ofthe neighboring shores driving through the air!

At length the mighty tub of Commodore Van Kortlandt was drawn into thevortex of that tremendous whirlpool called the Pot, where it was whirledabout in giddy mazes until the senses of the good commander and his crewwere overpowered by the horror of the scene and the strangeness of therevolution. How the gallant squadron of Pavonia was snatched from thejaws of this modern Charybdis has never been truly made known, for somany survived to tell the tale, and, what is still more wonderful, toldit in so many different ways, that there has ever prevailed a greatvariety of opinions on the subject. 

As to the commodore and his crew, when they came to their senses theyfound themselves stranded on the Long Island shore. The worthycommodore, indeed, used to relate many and wonderful stories of hisadventures in this time of peril--how that he saw specters flying in theair and heard the yelling of hobgoblins, and put his hand into the potwhen they were whirled round, and found the water scalding hot, andbeheld several uncouth-looking beings seated on rocks and skimming itwith huge ladles; but particularly he declared, with great exultation, that he saw the losel porpoises, which had betrayed them into thisperil, some broiling on the Gridiron and others hissing on theFrying-pan!

These, however, were considered by many as mere fantasies of thecommodore while he lay in a trance, especially as he was known to begiven to dreaming, and the truth of them has never been clearlyascertained. It is certain, however, that to the accounts of Oloffe andhis followers may be traced the various traditions handed down of thismarvelous strait--as how the devil has been seen there sitting astrideof the Hog's Back and playing on the fiddle, how he broils fish therebefore a storm, and many other stories in which we must be cautious ofputting too much faith. In consequence of all these terrificcircumstances the Pavonian commander gave this pass the name of_Hellegat_, or, as it has been interpreted, _Hell-Gate_, [242-1] which itcontinues to bear at the present day. 

The darkness of the night had closed upon this disastrous day, and adoleful night was it to the shipwrecked Pavonians, whose ears wereincessantly assailed with the raging of the elements and the howling ofthe hobgoblins that infested this perilous strait. But when the morningdawned the horrors of the preceding evening had passed away--rapids, breakers, whirlpools had disappeared, the stream again ran smooth anddimpling, and, having changed its tide, rolled gently back toward thequarter where lay their much-regretted home. 

The woe-begone heroes of Communipaw eyed each other with ruefulcountenances; their squadron had been totally dispersed by the latedisaster. 

I forbear to treat of the long consultation of Oloffe with his remainingfollowers, in which they determined that it would never do to found acity in so diabolical a neighborhood. Suffice it in simple brevity tosay that they once more committed themselves, with fear and trembling, to the briny element, and steered their course back again through thescenes of their yesterday's voyage, determined no longer to roam insearch of distant sites, but to settle themselves down in the marshyregions of Pavonia. 

Scarce, however, had they gained a distant view of Communipaw when theywere encountered by an obstinate eddy which opposed their homewardvoyage. Weary and dispirited as they were, they yet tugged a feeble oaragainst the stream, until, as if to settle the strife, half a score ofpotent billows rolled the tub of Commodore Van Kortlandt high and dry onthe long point of an island which divided the bosom of the bay. 

Oloffe Van Kortlandt was a devout trencherman. Every repast was a kindof religious rite with him, and his first thought on finding himselfonce more on dry ground was how he should contrive to celebrate hiswonderful escape from Hell-Gate and all its horrors by a solemn banquet. The stores which had been provided for the voyage by the good housewivesof Communipaw were nearly exhausted, but in casting his eyes about thecommodore beheld that the shore abounded with oysters. A great store ofthese was instantly collected; a fire was made at the foot of a tree;all hands fell to roasting and broiling and stewing and frying, and asumptuous repast was soon set forth. 

On the present occasion the worthy Van Kortlandt was observed to beparticularly zealous in his devotions to the trencher; for, having thecares of the expedition especially committed to his care, he deemed itincumbent on him to eat profoundly for the public good. In proportion ashe filled himself to the very brim with the dainty viands before him, did the heart of this excellent burgher rise up toward his throat, untilhe seemed crammed and almost choked with good eating and good nature. And at such times it is, when a man's heart is in his throat, that hemay more truly be said to speak from it and his speeches abound withkindness and good fellowship. Thus, having swallowed the last possiblemorsel and washed it down with a fervent potation, Oloffe felt his heartyearning and his whole frame in a manner dilating with unboundedbenevolence. Everything around him seemed excellent and delightful, and, laying his hands on each side of his capacious periphery, and rollinghis half closed eyes around on the beautiful diversity of land and waterbefore him, he exclaimed, in a fat, half-smothered voice, "What acharming prospect!" The words died away in his throat, he seemed toponder on the fair scene for a moment, his eyelids heavily closed overtheir orbits, his head drooped upon his bosom, he slowly sank upon thegreen turf, and a deep sleep stole gradually over him. 

Van Kortlandt awoke from his sleep greatly instructed, and he arousedhis companions and told them that it was the will of Saint Nicholas thatthey should settle down and build the city here. With one voice allassented to this. 

The great object of their perilous expedition, therefore, being thushappily accomplished, the voyagers returned merrily to Communipaw, wherethey were received with great rejoicings. 

It having been solemnly resolved that the seat of empire should beremoved from the green shores of Pavonia to the pleasant island ofManna-hata, everybody was anxious to embark under the standard of Oloffethe Dreamer, and to be among the first sharers of the promised land. Aday was appointed for the grand migration, and on that day littleCommunipaw was in a buzz and bustle like a hive in swarming-time. Houseswere turned inside out and stripped of the venerable furniture which hadcome from Holland; all the community, great and small, black and white, man, woman and child, was in commotion, forming lines from the houses tothe water-side, like lines of ants from an ant-hill; everybody ladenwith some article of household furniture, while busy housewives pliedbackward and forward along the lines, helping everything forward by thenimbleness of their tongues. 

By degrees a fleet of boats and canoes were piled up with all kinds ofhousehold articles--ponderous tables; chests of drawers resplendent withbrass ornaments; quaint corner cupboards; beds and bedsteads; with anyquantity of pots, kettles, frying-pans and Dutch ovens. In each boatembarked a whole family, from the robustious burgher down to the catsand dogs and little negroes. In this way they set off across the mouthof the Hudson, under the guidance of Oloffe the Dreamer, who hoisted hisstandard on the leading boat. 

As the little squadron from Communipaw drew near to the shores ofManna-hata, a sachem at the head of a band of warriors appeared tooppose their landing. Some of the most zealous of the pilgrims were forchastising this insolence with powder and ball, according to theapproved mode of discoverers; but the sage Oloffe gave them thesignificant sign of Saint Nicholas, laying his finger beside his noseand winking hard with one eye, whereupon his followers perceived thatthere was something sagacious in the wink. He now addressed the Indiansin the blandest terms, and made such tempting display of beads, hawks'-bells, and red blankets that he was soon permitted to land, and agreat land speculation ensued. And here let me give the true story ofthe original purchase of the site of this renowned city about which somuch has been said and written. Some affirm that the first cost was butsixty guilders. The learned Dominie Heckwelder records a tradition thatthe Dutch discoverers bargained for only so much land as the hide of abullock would cover; but that they cut the hide in strips no thickerthan a child's finger, so as to take in a large portion of land and totake in the Indians into the bargain. This, however, is an old fablewhich the worthy Dominie may have borrowed from antiquity. The trueversion is, that Oloffe Van Kortlandt bargained for just so much land asa man could cover with his nether garments. The terms being concluded, he produced his friend Mynheer Ten Broeck as the man whose breeches wereto be used in measurement. The simple savages, whose ideas of a man'snether garments had never expanded beyond the dimensions of abreech-clout, stared with astonishment and dismay as they beheld thisburgher peeled like an onion, and breeches after breeches spread forthover the land until they covered the actual site of this venerable city. 

This is the true history of the adroit bargain by which the island ofManhattan was bought for sixty guilders; and in corroboration of it Iwill add that Mynheer Ten Breeches, for his services on this memorableoccasion, was elevated to the office of land measurer, which he everafterward exercised in the colony. 

The land being thus fairly purchased of the Indians, a circumstance veryunusual in the history of colonization, and strongly illustrative of thehonesty of our Dutch progenitors, a stockade fort and a trading-housewere forthwith erected on an eminence, the identical place at presentknown as the Bowling Green. 

Around this fort a progeny of little Dutch-built houses, with tiledroofs and weathercocks, soon sprang up, nestling themselves under itswalls for protection, as a brood of half-fledged chickens nestles underthe wings of the mother hen. The whole was surrounded by an inclosure ofstrong palisadoes to guard against any sudden irruption of the savages. Outside of these extended the cornfields and cabbage-gardens of thecommunity, with here and there an attempt at a tobacco-plantation; allcovering those tracts of country at present called Broadway, Wallstreet, William street and Pearl street. 

I must not omit to mention that in portioning out the land a goodly"bowerie" or farm was allotted to the sage Oloffe in consideration ofthe service he had rendered to the public by his talent at dreaming; andthe site of his "bowerie" is known by the name of Kortlandt (orCourtlandt) street to the present day. 

And now, the infant settlement having advanced in age and stature, itwas thought high time it should receive an honest Christian name. Hitherto it had gone by the original Indian name Manna-hata, or, as somewill have it, "The Manhattoes"; but this was now decried as savage andheathenish, and as tending to keep up the memory of the pagan brood thatoriginally possessed it. Many were the consultations held upon thesubject without coming to a conclusion, for, though everybody condemnedthe old name, nobody could invent a new one. At length, when the councilwas almost in despair, a burgher, remarkable for the size and squarenessof his head, proposed that they should call it New Amsterdam. Theproposition took everybody by surprise; it was so striking, so apposite, so ingenious. The name was adopted by acclamation, and New Amsterdam themetropolis was thenceforth called. Still, however, the early authors ofthe province continued to call it by the general appellation of "TheManhattoes, " and the poets fondly clung to the euphonious name ofManna-hata; but those are a kind of folk whose tastes and notions shouldgo for nothing in matters of this kind. 

Having thus provided the embryo city with a name, the next was to giveit an armorial bearing or device. As some cities have a rampant lion, others a soaring eagle, emblematical, no doubt, of the valiant andhigh-flying qualities of the inhabitants, so after mature deliberation asleek beaver was emblazoned on the city standard as indicative of theamphibious origin and patient and persevering habits of the NewAmsterdammers. 

WALTER THE DOUBTER

It was in the year of our Lord 1629 that Mynheer Wouter Van Twiller wasappointed governor of the province of Nieuw Nederlandts, under thecommission and control of their High Mightinesses the Lords StatesGeneral of the United Netherlands and the privileged West India Company. 

The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van Twiller was descended from a longline of Dutch burgomasters, who had successively dozed away their livesand grown fat upon the bench of magistracy in Rotterdam, and who hadcomported themselves with such singular wisdom and propriety that theywere never either heard or talked of; which, next to being universallyapplauded, should be the object of ambition of all magistrates andrulers. There are two opposite ways by which some men make a figure inthe world--one by talking faster than they think, and the other byholding their tongues and not thinking at all. By the first many asmatterer acquires the reputation of a man of quick parts; by the othermany a dunderpate, like the owl, the stupidest of birds, comes to beconsidered the very type of wisdom. This, by the way, is a casualremark, which I would not for the universe have it thought I apply toGovernor Van Twiller. It is true he was a man shut up within himself, like an oyster, and rarely spoke except in monosyllables; but then itwas allowed he seldom said a foolish thing. So invincible was hisgravity that he was never known to laugh or even to smile through thewhole course of a long and prosperous life. Nay, if a joke were utteredin his presence that set light-minded hearers in a roar, it was observedto throw him into a state of perplexity. Sometimes he would deign toinquire into the matter, and when, after much explanation, the joke wasmade as plain as a pike-staff, he would continue to smoke his pipe insilence, and at length, knocking out the ashes, would exclaim, "Well! Isee nothing in all that to laugh about. "

The person of this illustrious old gentleman was formed andproportioned, as though it had been molded by the hands of some cunningDutch statuary, as a model of majesty and lordly grandeur. He wasexactly five feet, six inches in height and six feet, five inches incircumference. His head was a perfect sphere, and of such stupendousdimensions that Dame Nature with all her sex's ingenuity would have beenpuzzled to construct a neck capable of supporting it; wherefore shewisely declined the attempt, and settled it firmly on the top of hisbackbone just between the shoulders. His body was oblong andparticularly capacious at bottom; which was wisely ordered byProvidence, seeing that he was a man of sedentary habits and very averseto the idle labor of walking. His legs were short, but sturdy inproportion to the weight they had to sustain, so that when erect he hadnot a little the appearance of a beer-barrel on skids. His face, thatinfallible index of the mind, presented a vast expanse, unfurrowed byany of those lines and angles which disfigure the human countenance withwhat is termed expression. Two small gray eyes twinkled feebly in themidst, like two stars of lesser magnitude in a hazy firmament, and hisfull-fed cheeks, which seemed to have taken toll of everything that wentinto his mouth, were curiously mottled and streaked with dusky red, likea spitzenberg apple. 

In his council he presided with great state and solemnity. He sat in ahuge chair of solid oak, hewn in the celebrated forest of The Hague, fabricated by an experienced timmerman of Amsterdam, and curiouslycarved about the arms and feet into exact imitations of gigantic eagle'sclaws. Instead of a scepter he swayed a long Turkish pipe, wrought withjasmine and amber, which had been presented to a stadtholder of Hollandat the conclusion of a treaty with one of the petty Barbary powers. Inthis stately chair would he sit and this magnificent pipe would hesmoke, shaking his right knee with a constant motion, and fixing his eyefor hours upon a little print of Amsterdam which hung in a black frameagainst the opposite wall of the council-chamber. Nay, it has even beensaid that when any deliberation of extraordinary length and intricacywas on the carpet the renowned Wouter would shut his eyes for full twohours at a time, that he might not be disturbed by external objects; andat such times the internal commotion of his mind was evinced by certainregular guttural sounds, which his admirers declared were merely thenoise of conflict made by his contending doubts and opinions. 

[Illustration: HE WAS INTERRUPTED BY WANDLE SCHOONHOVEN]

The very outset of the career of this excellent magistrate wasdistinguished by an example of legal acumen that gave flatteringpresage of a wise and equitable administration. The morning after he hadbeen installed in office, and at the moment that he was making hisbreakfast from a prodigious earthen dish filled with milk and Indianpudding, he was interrupted by the appearance of Wandle Schoonhoven, avery important old burgher of New Amsterdam, who complained bitterly ofone Barent Bleecker, inasmuch as he refused to come to a settlement ofaccounts, seeing that there was a heavy balance in favor of the saidWandle. Governor Van Twiller, as I have already observed, was a man offew words; he was likewise a mortal enemy to multiplying writings orbeing disturbed at his breakfast. Having listened attentively to thestatement of Wandle Schoonhoven, giving an occasional grunt as heshoveled a spoonful of Indian pudding into his mouth, either as a signthat he relished the dish or comprehended the story, he called unto himhis constable, and, pulling out of his breeches pocket a hugejack-knife, dispatched it after the defendant, as a summons, accompaniedby his tobacco-box as a warrant. 

This summary process was as effectual in those simple days as was theseal ring of the great Haroun Alraschid among the true believers. Thetwo parties being confronted before him, each produced a book ofaccounts written in a language and character that would have puzzled anybut a High Dutch commentator or a learned decipherer of Egyptianobelisks. The sage Wouter took them one after the other, and, havingpoised them in his hands and attentively counted over the number ofleaves, fell straightway into a very great doubt, and smoked for half anhour without saying a word; at length, laying his finger beside his noseand shutting his eyes for a moment with the air of a man who had justcaught a subtle idea by the tail, he slowly took his pipe from hismouth, puffed forth a column of tobacco-smoke, and with marvelousgravity and solemnity pronounced--that, having carefully counted overthe leaves and weighed the books, it was found that one was just asthick and as heavy as the other; therefore it was the final opinion ofthe court that the accounts were equally balanced; therefore Wandleshould give Barent a receipt, and Barent should give Wandle a receipt;and the constable should pay the costs. 

This decision, being straightway made known, diffused general joythroughout New Amsterdam, for the people immediately perceived that theyhad a very wise and equitable magistrate to rule over them. But itshappiest effect was that not another lawsuit took place throughout thewhole of his administration, and the office of constable fell into suchdecay that there was not one of those losel scouts known in the provincefor many years. 

HOW THE COLONISTS LIVED IN THE DAYS OF WALTER THE DOUBTER

The houses of the higher class were generally constructed of wood, excepting the gable end, which was of small black and yellow Dutchbricks, and always faced on the street, as our ancestors, like theirdescendants, were very much given to outward show, and were noted forputting the best leg foremost. The house was always furnished withabundance of large doors and small windows on every floor, the date ofits erection was curiously designated by iron figures on the front, andon the top of the roof was perched a fierce little weathercock, to letthe family into the important secret which way the wind blew. These, like the weathercocks on the tops of our steeples, pointed so manydifferent ways that every man could have a wind to his mind; the moststanch and loyal citizens, however, always went according to theweathercock on the top of the governor's house, which was certainly themost correct, as he had a trusty servant employed every morning to climbup and set it to the right quarter. 

In those good days of simplicity and sunshine a passion for cleanlinesswas the leading principle in domestic economy and the universal test ofan able housewife--a character which formed the utmost ambition of ourunenlightened grandmothers. The front door was never opened except onmarriages, funerals, New Year's days, the festival of Saint Nicholas, orsome such great occasion. It was ornamented with a gorgeous brassknocker, curiously wrought, sometimes in the device of a dog, andsometimes of a lion's head, and was daily burnished with such religiouszeal that it was ofttimes worn out by the very precautions taken for itspreservation. The whole house was constantly in a state of inundationunder the discipline of mops and brooms and scrubbing brushes; and thegood housewives of those days were a kind of amphibious animal, delighting exceedingly to be dabbling in water, insomuch that anhistorian of the day gravely tells us that many of his townswomen grewto have webbed fingers like unto a duck; but this I look upon to be amere sport of fancy, or, what is worse, a willful misrepresentation. 

The grand parlor was the sanctum-sanctorum where the passion forcleaning was indulged without control. In this sacred apartment no onewas permitted to enter excepting the mistress and her confidential maid, who visited it once a week for the purpose of giving it a thoroughcleaning and putting things to rights, always taking the precaution ofleaving their shoes at the door and entering devoutly in their stockingfeet. After scrubbing the floor, sprinkling it with fine white sand, which was curiously stroked into angles, and curves, and rhomboids witha broom--after washing the windows, rubbing and polishing thefurniture, and putting a new bunch of evergreen in the fireplace--thewindow shutters were again closed to keep out the flies, and the roomcarefully locked up until the revolution of time brought round theweekly cleaning day. 

As to the family, they always entered in at the gate, and most generallylived in the kitchen. To have seen a numerous household assembled roundthe fire one would have imagined that he was transported back to thosehappy days of primeval simplicity which float before our imaginationlike golden visions. The fireplaces were of a truly patriarchalmagnitude, where the whole family, old and young, master and servant, black and white--nay, even the very cat and dog--enjoyed a community ofprivilege and had each a right to a corner. Here the old burgher wouldsit in perfect silence, puffing his pipe, looking in the fire withhalf-shut eyes, and thinking of nothing for hours together; the goedevrouw on the opposite side would employ herself diligently in spinningyarn or knitting stockings. The young folks would crowd around thehearth, listening with breathless attention to some old crone of a negrowho was the oracle of the family, and who, perched like a raven in acorner of the chimney, would croak forth for a long winter afternoon astring of incredible stories about New England witches, grisly ghosts, horses without heads, and hair-breadth escapes and bloody encountersamong the Indians. 

In those happy days a well-regulated family always rose with the dawn, dined at eleven, and went to bed at sunset. Dinner was invariably aprivate meal, and the fat old burghers showed incontestable signs ofdisapprobation and uneasiness at being surprised by a visit from aneighbor on such occasions. But, though our worthy ancestors were thussingularly adverse to giving dinners, yet they kept up the social bondsof intimacy by occasional banquetings called tea-parties. 

These fashionable parties were generally confined to the higherclasses--or noblesse--that is to say, such as kept their own cows anddrove their own wagons. The company commonly assembled at three o'clockand went away about six, unless it was in winter time, when thefashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies might get homebefore dark. The tea-table was crowned with a huge earthen dish wellstored with slices of fat pork fried brown, cut up into morsels, andswimming in gravy. The company, being seated round the genial board andeach furnished with a fork, evinced their dexterity in launching at thefattest pieces in this mighty dish--in much the same manner as sailorsharpoon porpoises at sea, or our Indians spear salmon in the lakes. Sometimes the table was graced with immense apple pies or saucers fullof preserved peaches and pears; but it was always sure to boast anenormous dish of balls of sweetened dough, fried in hog's fat, andcalled doughnuts, or olykoeks--a delicious kind of cake at presentscarce known in this city, except in genuine Dutch families. 

The tea was served out of a majestic delft teapot ornamented withpaintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and shepherdesses tending pigs, with boats sailing in the air, and houses built in the clouds, andsundry other ingenious Dutch fantasies. The beaux distinguishedthemselves by their adroitness in replenishing this pot from a hugecopper tea-kettle which would have made the pigmy macaronies of thesedegenerate days sweat merely to look at it. To sweeten the beverage alump of sugar was laid beside each cup, and the company alternatelynibbled and sipped with great decorum, until an improvement wasintroduced by a shrewd and economic old lady, which was to suspend alarge lump directly over the tea-table by a string from the ceiling, sothat it could be swung from mouth to mouth--an ingenious expedient whichis still kept up by some families in Albany, but which prevails withoutexception in Communipaw, Bergen, Flatbush, and all our uncontaminatedDutch villages. 

At these primitive tea-parties the utmost propriety and dignity ofdeportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquetting; no gambling of oldladies nor hoyden chattering and romping of young ones; noself-satisfied struttings of wealthy gentlemen with their brains intheir pockets; nor amusing conceits and monkey divertisements of smartyoung gentlemen with no brains at all. On the contrary, the young ladiesseated themselves demurely in their rush-bottomed chairs and knit theirown woollen stockings, nor ever opened their lips excepting to say _Yah, Mynheer_, or _Yah ya, Vrouw_, to any question that was asked them, behaving in all things like decent, well-educated damsels. As to thegentlemen, each of them tranquilly smoked his pipe and seemed lost incontemplation of the blue and white tiles with which the fireplaces weredecorated, whereon sundry passages of Scripture were piously portrayed:Tobit and his dog figured to great advantage; Haman swung conspicuouslyon his gibbet; and Jonah appeared most manfully bouncing out of thewhale, like Harlequin through a barrel of fire. 

The parties broke up without noise and without confusion. They werecarried home by their own carriages--that is to say, by the vehiclesNature had provided them--excepting such of the wealthy as could affordto keep a wagon. The gentlemen gallantly attended their fair ones totheir respective abodes, and took leave of them with a hearty smack atthe door, which as it was an established piece of etiquette, done inperfect simplicity and honesty of heart, occasioned no scandal at thattime, nor should it at the present: if our greatgrandfathers approved ofthe custom, it would argue a great want of reverence in theirdescendants to say a word against it. 

In this dulcet period of my history, when the beauteous island ofManna-hata presented a scene the very counterpart of those glowingpictures drawn of the golden reign of Saturn, there was, as I havebefore observed, a happy ignorance, an honest simplicity, prevalentamong its inhabitants, which, were I even able to depict, would be butlittle understood by the degenerate age for which I am doomed to write. Even the female sex, those arch innovators upon the tranquillity, thehonesty, and gray-beard customs of society, seemed for a while toconduct themselves with incredible sobriety and comeliness. 

Their hair, untortured by the abominations of art, was scrupulouslypomatumed back from their foreheads with a candle, and covered with alittle cap of quilted calico which fitted exactly to their heads. Theirpetticoats of linsey-woolsey were striped with a variety of gorgeousdyes, though I must confess these gallant garments were rather short, scarce reaching below the knee; but then they made up in the number, which generally equalled that of the gentlemen's small-clothes; and, what is still more praiseworthy, they were all of their own manufacture, of which circumstance, as may well be supposed, they were not a littlevain. 

These were the honest days in which every woman stayed at home, read theBible, and wore pockets--ay, and that too of a goodly size, fashionedwith patchwork into many curious devices and ostentatiously worn on theoutside. These, in fact, were convenient receptacles where all goodhousewives carefully stored away such things as they wished to have athand, by which means they often came to be incredibly crammed; and Iremember there was a story current when I was a boy that the lady ofWouter Van Twiller once had occasion to empty her right pocket in searchof a wooden ladle, when the contents filled a couple of corn baskets, and the utensil was discovered lying among some rubbish in one corner. But we must not give too much faith to all these stories, the anecdotesof those remote periods being very subject to exaggeration. 

Besides these notable pockets, they likewise wore scissors andpincushions suspended from their girdles by red ribbons, or among themore opulent and showy classes by brass, and even silver, chains--indubitable tokens of thrifty housewives and industriousspinsters. I cannot say much in vindication of the shortness of thepetticoats: it doubtless was introduced for the purpose of giving thestockings a chance to be seen, which were generally of blue worsted withmagnificent red clocks, or perhaps to display a well-turned ankle and aneat, though serviceable foot, set off by a high-heeled leathern shoewith a large and splendid silver buckle. Thus we find that the gentlesex in all ages have shown the same disposition to infringe a littleupon the laws of decorum in order to betray a lurking beauty or gratifyan innocent love of finery. 

From the sketch here given it will be seen that our good grandmothersdiffered considerably in their ideas of a fine figure from theirscantily dressed descendants of the present day. A fine lady in thosetimes waddled under more clothes, even on a fair summer's day, thanwould have clad the whole bevy of a modern ball-room. Nor were they theless admired by the gentlemen in consequence thereof. On the contrary, the greatness of a lover's passion seemed to increase in proportion tothe magnitude of its object, and a voluminous damsel, arrayed in a dozenof petticoats, was declared by a Low Dutch sonneteer of the province tobe radiant as a sunflower and luxuriant as a full-blown cabbage. Certainit is that in those days the heart of a lover could not contain morethan one lady at a time; whereas the heart of a modern gallant has oftenroom enough to accommodate half a dozen. The reason of which I concludeto be, that either the hearts of the gentlemen have grown larger or thepersons of the ladies smaller; this, however, is a question forphysiologists to determine. 

But there was a secret charm in these petticoats which no doubt enteredinto the consideration of the prudent gallants. The wardrobe of a ladywas in those days her only fortune, and she who had a good stock ofpetticoats and stockings was as absolutely an heiress as is a Kamschatkadamsel with a store of bear skins or a Lapland belle with a plenty ofreindeer. The ladies, therefore, were very anxious to display thesepowerful attractions to the greatest advantage; and the best rooms inthe house, instead of being adorned with caricatures of Dame Nature inwater colors and needlework, were always hung round with abundance ofhomespun garments, the manufacture and the property of the females--apiece of laudable ostentation that still prevails among the heiresses ofour Dutch villages. 

The gentlemen, in fact, who figured in the circles of the gay world inthese ancient times corresponded, in most particulars, with thebeauteous damsels whose smiles they were ambitious to deserve. True itis their merits would make but a very inconsiderable impression upon theheart of a modern fair; they neither drove their curricles nor sportedtheir tandems, for as yet those gaudy vehicles were not even dreamt of, neither did they distinguish themselves by their brilliancy at thetable, and their consequent renconters with watchmen, for ourforefathers were of too pacific a disposition to need those guardians ofthe night, every soul throughout the town being sound asleep before nineo'clock. Neither did they establish their claims to gentility at theexpense of their tailors, for as yet those offenders against the pocketsof society and the tranquility of all aspiring young gentlemen wereunknown in New Amsterdam; every good housewife made the clothes of herhusband and family, and even the goede vrouw of Van Twiller himselfthought it no disparagement to cut out her husband's linsey-woolseygalligaskins. 

Not but what there were some two or three youngsters who manifested thefirst dawning of what is called fire and spirit, who held all labor incontempt, skulked about docks and market-places, loitered in thesunshine, squandered what little money they could procure at hustle-capand chuck-farthing, swore, boxed, fought cocks, and raced theirneighbors' horses; in short, who promised to be the wonder, the talk, and abomination of the town, had not their stylish career beenunfortunately cut short by an affair of honor with a whipping-post. 

Far other, however, was the truly fashionable gentleman of those days. His dress, which served for both morning and evening, street anddrawing-room, was a linsey-woolsey coat, made, perhaps, by the fairhands of the mistress of his affections, and gallantly bedecked withabundance of large brass buttons; half a score of breeches heightenedthe proportions of his figure; his shoes were decorated by enormouscopper buckles; a low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat overshadowed his burlyvisage; and his hair dangled down his back in a queue of eel-skin. 

Thus equipped, he would manfully sally forth with pipe in mouth tobesiege some fair damsel's obdurate heart--not such a pipe, good reader, as that which Acis did sweetly tune in praise of his Galatea, but oneof true Delft manufacture and furnished with a charge of fragranttobacco. With this would he resolutely set himself down before thefortress, and rarely failed, in the process of time, to smoke the fairenemy into a surrender upon honorable terms. 

Happy would it have been for New Amsterdam could it always have existedin this state of lowly simplicity; but alas! the days of childhood aretoo sweet to last! Cities, like men, grow out of them in time, and aredoomed alike to grow into the bustle, the cares, and miseries of theworld. 

WILLIAM THE TESTY

Wilhelmus Kieft, who in 1634 ascended the gubernatorial chair (to borrowa favorite though clumsy appellation of modern phraseologists), was of alofty descent, his father being inspector of windmills in the ancienttown of Saardam; and our hero, we are told, when a boy made very curiousinvestigations into the nature and operation of these machines, whichwas one reason why he afterward came to be so ingenious a governor. Hisname according to the most authentic etymologists, was a corruption ofKyver--that is to say, a _wrangler_ or _scolder_--and expressed thecharacteristic of his family, which for nearly two centuries had keptthe windy town of Saardam in hot water, and produced more tartars andbrimstones than any ten families in the place; and so truly did heinherit this family peculiarity that he had not been a year in thegovernment of the province before he was universally denominatedWilliam the Testy. His appearance answered to his name. He was a brisk, wiry, waspish little old gentleman; such a one as may now and then beseen stumping about our city in a broad-skirted coat with huge buttons, a cocked hat stuck on the back of his head, and a cane as high as hischin. His face was broad but his features were sharp, his cheeks werescorched into a dusky red by two fiery little gray eyes; his noseturned up, and the corners of his mouth turned down, pretty much likethe muzzle of an irritable pug-dog. 

[Illustration: WILLIAM THE TESTY]

I have heard it observed by a profound adept in human physiology that ifa woman waxes fat with the progress of years, her tenure of life issomewhat precarious, but if haply she withers as she grows old she livesforever. Such promised to be the case with William the Testy, who grewtough in proportion as he dried. He had withered, in fact, not throughthe process of years, but through the tropical fervor of his soul, whichburnt like a vehement rushlight in his bosom, inciting him to incessantbroils and bickerings. 

Wilhelmus Kieft was a great legislator on a small scale, and had amicroscopic eye in public affairs. He had been greatly annoyed by thefactious meetings of the good people of New Amsterdam, but, observingthat on these occasions the pipe was ever in their mouth, he began tothink that the pipe was at the bottom of the affair, and that there wassome mysterious affinity between politics and tobacco smoke. Determinedto strike at the root of the evil, he began, forthwith, to rail attobacco as a noxious, nauseous weed, filthy in all its uses; and as tosmoking, he denounced it as a heavy tax upon the public pocket, a vastconsumer of time, a great encourager of idleness, and a deadly bane tothe prosperity and morals of the people. Finally, he issued an edictprohibiting the smoking of tobacco throughout the New Netherlands. Ill-fated Kieft! Had he lived in the present age and attempted to checkthe unbounded license of the press, he could not have struck more sorelyupon the sensibilities of the million. The pipe, in fact, was the greatorgan of reflection and deliberation of the New Netherlander. It was hisconstant companion and solace: was he gay, he smoked; was he sad, hesmoked; his pipe was never out of his mouth; it was a part of hisphysiognomy; without it his best friends would not know him. Take awayhis pipe? You might as well take away his nose!

[Illustration: THE TESTY WILLIAM ISSUED FORTH LIKE A WRATHFUL SPIDER]

The immediate effect of the edict of William the Testy was a popularcommotion. A vast multitude, armed with pipes and tobacco boxes and animmense supply of ammunition, sat themselves down before the governor'shouse and fell to smoking with tremendous violence. The Testy Williamissued forth like a wrathful spider, demanding the reason of thislawless fumigation. The sturdy rioters replied by lolling back in theirseats and puffing away with redoubled fury, raising such a murky cloudthat the governor was fain to take refuge in the interior of hiscastle. 

A long negotiation ensued through the medium of Antony the Trumpeter. The governor was at first wrathful and unyielding, but was graduallysmoked into terms. He concluded by permitting the smoking of tobacco, but he abolished the fair long pipes used in the days of Wouter VanTwiller, denoting ease, tranquillity and sobriety of deportment; thesehe condemned as incompatible with the dispatch of business; in placewhereof he substituted little captious short pipes, two inches inlength, which he observed could be stuck in one corner of the mouth ortwisted in the hat-band, and would never be in the way. Thus ended thisalarming insurrection, which was long known by the name of The PipePlot, and which, it has been somewhat quaintly observed, did end, likemost plots and seditions, in mere smoke. 

But mark, O reader! the deplorable evils which did afterward result. Thesmoke of these villainous little pipes, continually ascending in a cloudabout the nose, penetrated into and befogged the cerebellum, dried upall the kindly moisture of the brain, and rendered the people who usedthem as vaporish and testy as the governor himself. Nay, what is worse, from being goodly, burly, sleek-conditioned men, they became, like ourDutch yeomanry who smoke short pipes, a lantern-jawed, smoke-dried, leathern-hided race. 

Nor was this all. From this fatal schism we may date the rise of partiesin Nieuw Nederlandts. The rich burghers, who could afford to be lazy, adhered to the ancient fashion and were known as _Long Pipes_; while thelower order were branded with the plebeian name of _Short Pipes_. 

PETER THE HEADSTRONG

Peter Stuyvesant was the last, and, like the renowned Wouter VanTwiller, the best, of our ancient Dutch governors, Wouter havingsurpassed all who preceded him, and Pieter or Piet, as he was sociablycalled by the old Dutch burghers, who were ever prone to familiarizenames, having never been equalled by any successor. He was, in fact, thevery man fitted by Nature to retrieve the desperate fortunes of herbeloved province, had not the fates, those most potent and unrelentingof all ancient spinsters, destined them to inextricable confusion. 

To say merely that he was a hero would be doing him great injustice: hewas in truth a combination of heroes; for he was of a sturdy, raw-bonedmake like Ajax Telamon, with a pair of round shoulders that Herculeswould have given his hide for (meaning his lion's hide) when heundertook to ease old Atlas of his load. He was, moreover, as Plutarchdescribes Coriolanus, not only terrible for the force of his arm, butlikewise of his voice, which sounded as though it came out of a barrel;and, like the self-same warrior, he possessed a sovereign contempt forthe sovereign people, and an iron aspect which was enough of itself tomake the very bowels of his adversaries quake with terror and dismay. All this martial excellency of appearance was inexpressibly heightenedby an accidental advantage with which I am surprised that neither Homernor Virgil have graced any of their heroes. This was nothing less than awooden leg, which was the only prize he had gained in bravely fightingthe battles of his country, but of which he was so proud that he wasoften heard to declare he valued it more than all his other limbs puttogether; indeed, so highly did he esteem it that he had it gallantlyenchased and relieved with silver devices, which caused it to be relatedin divers histories and legends that he wore a silver leg. 

Like that choleric warrior Achilles, he was somewhat subject toextempore bursts of passion, which were rather unpleasant to hisfavorites and attendants, whose perceptions he was apt to quicken, afterthe manner of his illustrious imitator, Peter the Great, by anointingtheir shoulders with his walking-staff. 

He was, in fact, the very reverse of his predecessors, being neithertranquil and inert like Walter the Doubter, nor restless and fidgetinglike William the Testy, but a man of such uncommon activity and decisionof mind that he never sought nor accepted the advice of others, depending bravely upon his single head, as would a hero of yore upon hissingle arm, to carry him through all difficulties. To tell the simpletruth, he wanted nothing more to complete him as a statesman than tothink always right, for no one can say but that he always acted as hethought. He was never a man to flinch when he found himself in a scrape, but to dash forward through thick and thin, trusting by hook or by crookto make all things straight in the end. In a word, he possessed in aneminent degree that great quality in a statesman called perseverance bythe polite, but nicknamed obstinacy by the vulgar. A wonderful salve forofficial blunders, since he who perseveres in error without flinchinggets the credit of boldness and consistency, while he who wavers inseeking to do what is right gets stigmatized as a trimmer. This much iscertain--and it is a maxim well worthy the attention of all legislatorsgreat and small who stand shaking in the wind, irresolute which way tosteer--that a ruler who follows his own will pleases himself, while hewho seeks to satisfy the wishes and whims of others runs great risk ofpleasing nobody. There is nothing, too, like putting down one's footresolutely when in doubt, and letting things take their course. Theclock that stands still points right twice in the four and twenty hours, while others may keep going continually and be continually going wrong. 

Nor did this magnanimous quality escape the discernment of the goodpeople of Nieuw Nederlandts; on the contrary, so much were they struckwith the independent will and vigorous resolution displayed on alloccasions by their new governor that they universally called himHard-Koppig Piet, or Peter the Headstrong--a great compliment to thestrength of his understanding. 

THE BATTLE WITH THE SWEDES

"Now had the Dutchmen snatched a huge repast, " and, finding themselveswonderfully encouraged and animated thereby, prepared to take the field. Expectation, says the writer of the Stuyvesant manuscript--expectationnow stood on stilts. The world forgot to turn round, or rather stoodstill, that it might witness the affray, like a round-bellied aldermanwatching the combat of two chivalrous flies upon his jerkin. The eyesof all mankind, as usual in such cases, were turned upon Fort Christina. The sun, like a little man in a crowd at a puppet-show, scampered aboutthe heavens, popping his head here and there, and endeavoring to get apeep between the unmannerly clouds that obtruded themselves in his way. The historians filled their inkhorns; the poets went without theirdinners, either that they might buy paper and goose-quills or becausethey could not get anything to eat; Antiquity scowled sulkily out of itsgrave to see itself outdone, while even Posterity stood mute, gazing ingaping ecstasy of retrospection on the eventful field. 

The immortal deities, who whilom had seen service at the "affair" ofTroy, now mounted their feather-bed clouds and sailed over the plain, ormingled among the combatants in different disguises, all itching to havea finger in the pie. Jupiter sent off his thunderbolt to a notedcoppersmith to have it furbished up for the direful occasion. The notedbully Mars stuck two horse-pistols into his belt, shouldered a rustyfirelock, and gallantly swaggered at the elbow of the Swedes as adrunken corporal; while Apollo trudged in their rear as a bandy-leggedfifer, playing most villainously out of tune. 

On the other hand, the ox-eyed Juno, who had gained a pair of black eyesovernight in one of her curtain lectures with old Jupiter, displayed herhaughty beauties on a baggage wagon; while Vulcan halted as aclub-footed blacksmith lately promoted to be a captain of militia. Allwas silent awe or bustling preparation: War reared his horrid front, gnashed loud his iron fangs, and shook his direful crest of bristlingbayonets. 

And now the mighty chieftains marshalled out their hosts. Here stoodstout Risingh, firm as a thousand rocks, incrusted with stockades, andintrenched to the chin in mud batteries. He was a gigantic Swede, who, had he not been rather knock-kneed and splay-footed, might have servedfor the model of Samson or a Hercules. He was no less rapacious thanmighty, and withal as crafty as he was rapacious, so that there is verylittle doubt that had he lived some four or five centuries since hewould have figured as one of those wicked giants who took a cruelpleasure in pocketing beautiful princesses and distressed damsels whengadding about the world, and locking them up in enchanted castleswithout a toilet, a change of linen, or any other convenience; inconsequence of which enormities they fell under the high displeasure ofchivalry, and all true, loyal, and gallant knights were instructed toattack and slay outright any miscreant they might happen to find abovesix feet high; which is doubtless one reason why the race of large menis nearly extinct, and the generations of latter ages are so exceedinglysmall. His valiant soldiery lined the breastworks in grim array, eachhaving his mustachios fiercely greased and his hair pomatumed back, andqueued so stiffly that he grinned above the ramparts like a grislydeath's head. 

There came on the intrepid Peter, his brows knit, his teeth set, hisfists clinched, almost breathing forth volumes of smoke, so fierce wasthe fire that raged within his bosom. His faithful squire Van Corleartrudged valiantly at his heels, with his trumpet gorgeously bedeckedwith red and yellow ribbons, the remembrances of his fair mistress atthe Manhattoes. Then came waddling on the sturdy chivalry of the Hudson. There were the Van Wycks, and the Van Dycks, and the Ten Eycks; the VanNesses, the Van Tassels, the Van Grools, the Van Hoesens, the VanGiesons, and the Van Blarcoms; the Van Warts, the Van Winkles, the VanDams; the Van Pelts, the Van Rippers and the Van Brunts. There were theVan Hornes, the Van Hooks, the Van Bunschotens; the Van Gelders, the VanArsdales, and the Van Bummels; the Vander Belts, the Vander Hoofs andthe Vander Voorts, the Vander Lyns, the Vander Pools and the VanderSpiegles. There came the Hoffmans, the Hooghlands, the Hoppers, theCloppers, the Ryckmans, the Dyckmans, the Hogebooms, the Rosebooms, theOothouts, the Quakenbosses, the Roerbacks, the Garrebrantzes, theBensons, the Brouwers, the Waldrons, the Onderdonks, the Varra Vangers, the Schermerhorns, the Stoutenburghs, the Brinkerhoffs, the Bontecous, the Knickerbockers, the Hockstrassers, the Ten Breecheses, and the ToughBreecheses, with a host more of worthies whose names are too crabbed tobe written, or if they could be written it would be impossible for manto utter--all fortified with a mighty dinner, and, to use the words of agreat Dutch poet:

 "Brimful of wrath and cabbage. "

[Illustration: THERE CAME ON THE INTREPID PETER]

For an instant the mighty Peter paused in the midst of his career, and, mounting on a stump, addressed his troops in eloquent Low Dutch, exhorting them to fight like _duyvels_, and assuring them that if theyconquered they should get plenty of booty; if they fell they shouldbe allowed the satisfaction, while dying, of reflecting that it was inthe service of their country, and after they were dead of seeing theirnames inscribed in the temple of renown, and handed down, in companywith all the other great men of the year, for the admiration ofposterity. Finally, he swore to them, on the word of a governor (andthey knew him too well to doubt it for a moment), that if he caught anymother's son of them looking pale or playing craven, he would curry hishide till he made him run out of it like a snake in spring-time. Then, lugging out his trusty saber, he branished it three times over his head, ordered Van Corlear to sound the charge, and, shouting the words, "SaintNicholas and the Manhattoes!" courageously dashed forward. His warlikefollowers, who had employed the interval in lighting their pipes, instantly stuck them into their mouths, gave a furious puff, and chargedgallantly under cover of the smoke. 

The Swedish garrison, ordered by the cunning Risingh not to fire untilthey could distinguish the whites of their assailants' eyes, stood inhorrid silence on the covert-way until the eager Dutchmen had ascendedthe glacis. Then did they pour into them such a tremendous volley thatthe very hills quaked around, and certain springs burst forth from theirsides which continue to run unto the present day. Not a Dutchman butwould have bitten the dust beneath that dreadful fire had not theprotecting Minerva kindly taken care that the Swedes should, one andall, observe their usual custom of shutting their eyes and turning awaytheir heads at the moment of discharge. 

The Swedes followed up their fire by leaping the counterscarp andfalling tooth and nail upon the foe with furious outcries. And now mightbe seen prodigies of valor unmatched in history or song. Here was thesturdy Stuffel Brinkerhoff branishing his quarter-staff, like the giantBlanderon his oak tree (for he scorned to carry any other weapon), anddrumming a horrific tune upon the hard heads of the Swedish soldiery. There were the Van Kortlandts, posted at a distance, like the Locrianarchers of yore, and plying it most potently with the long-bow, forwhich they were so justly renowned. On a rising knoll were gathered thevaliant men of Sing-Sing, assisting marvelously in the fight by chantingthe great song of Saint Nicholas; but as to the Gardeniers of Hudson, they were absent on a marauding-party, laying waste the neighboringwatermelon-patches. 

In a different part of the field were the Van Grolls of Antony's nose, struggling to get to the thickest of the fight, but horribly perplexedin a defile between two hills by reason of the length of their noses. Soalso the Van Bunschotens of Nyack and Kakiat, so renowned for kickingwith the left foot, were brought to a stand for want of wind inconsequence of the hearty dinner they had eaten and would have been putto utter rout, but for the arrival of a gallant corps of voltigeurs, composed of the Hoppers, who advanced nimbly to their assistance on onefoot. Nor must I omit to mention the valiant achievements of Antony VanCorlear, who for a good quarter of an hour waged stubborn fight with alittle pursy Swedish drummer, whose hide he drummed most magnificently, and whom he would infallibly have annihilated on the spot but that hehad come into the battle with no other weapon but his trumpet. 

But now the combat thickened. On came the mighty Jacobus Varra Vangerand the fighting men of the Wallabout; after them thundered the VanPelts of Esopus, together with the Van Rippers and the Van Brunts, bearing down all before them; then the Suy Dams and the Van Dams, pressing forward with many a blustering oath at the head of the warriorsof Hell-Gate, clad in their thunder-and-lightning gaberdines; and lastlythe standard-bearers and body-guards of Peter Stuyvesant, bearing thegreat beaver of the Manhattoes. 

And now commenced the horrid din, the desperate struggle, the maddeningferocity, the frantic desperation, the confusion and self-abandonment ofwar. Dutchman and Swede, commingled, tugged, panted, and blowed. Theheavens were darkened with a tempest of missiles. Bang! went theguns--whack! went the broadswords--thump! went the cudgels--crash! wentthe musket-stocks--blows, kicks, cuffs, scratches, black eyes, andbloody noses swelling the horrors of the scene! Thick thwack, cut andhack, helter-skelter, higgledy-piggledy, hurly-burly, head over heels, rough and tumble! Dunder and blixum! swore the Dutchmen; splitter andsplutter! cried the Swedes; storm the works! shouted Hardkoppig Pieter;fire the mine! roared stout Risingh; tanta-ra-ra-ra! twanged the trumpetof Antony Van Corlear--until all voice and sound became unintelligible, grunts of pain, yells of fury, and shouts of triumph mingling in onehideous clamor. The earth shook as if struck with a paralyticstroke--trees shrunk aghast and withered at the sight--rocks burrowed inthe ground like rabbits--and even Christina Creek turned from its courseand ran up a hill in breathless terror!

Long hung the contest doubtful, for though a heavy shower of rain, sentby the "cloud-compelling Jove, " in some measure cooled their ardor, asdoth a bucket of water thrown on a group of fighting mastiffs, yet didthey but pause for a moment, to return with tenfold fury to the charge. Just at this juncture a vast and dense column of smoke was seen slowlyrolling toward the scene of battle. The combatants paused for a moment, gazing in mute astonishment, until the wind, dispelling the murky cloud, revealed the flaunting banner of Michael Paw, the patroon of Communipaw. That valiant chieftain came fearlessly on at the head of a phalanx ofoyster-fed Pavonians and a corps de reserve of the Van Arsdales and VanBummels, who had remained behind to digest the enormous dinner they hadeaten. These now trudged manfully forward, smoking their pipes withoutrageous vigor, so as to raise the awful cloud that has beenmentioned; but marching exceedingly slow, being short of leg and ofgreat rotundity in the belt. 

And now the deities who watched over the fortunes of the Nederlandtershaving unthinkingly left the field and stepped into a neighboring tavernto refresh themselves with a pot of beer, a direful catastrophe hadwell-nigh ensued. Scarce had the myrmidons of Michael Paw attained thefront of battle, when the Swedes instructed by the cunning Risingh, levelled a shower of blows full at their tobacco-pipes. Astounded atthis assault and dismayed at the havoc of their pipes, these ponderouswarriors gave way and like a drove of frightened elephants broke throughthe ranks of their own army. The little Hoppers were borne down in thesurge; the sacred banner emblazoned with the gigantic oyster ofCommunipaw was trampled in the dirt; on blundered and thundered theheavy-sterned fugitives, the Swedes pressing on their rear and applyingtheir feet _a parte poste_ of the Van Arsdales and the Van Bummels witha vigor that prodigiously accelerated their movements, nor did therenowned Michael Paw himself fail to receive divers grievous anddishonorable visitations of shoe-leather. 

But what, O Muse! was the rage of Peter Stuyvesant when from afar he sawhis army giving way! In the transports of his wrath he sent forth a roarenough to shake the very hills. The men of the Manhattoes plucked up newcourage at the sound, or, rather, they rallied at the voice of theirleader, of whom they stood more in awe than of all the Swedes inChristendom. Without waiting for their aid the daring Peter dashed, sword in hand, into the thickest of the foe. Then might be seenachievements worthy of the days of the giants. Wherever he went theenemy shrank before him; the Swedes fled to right and left or weredriven, like dogs, into their own ditch; but as he pushed forward singlywith headlong courage the foe closed behind and hung upon his rear. Oneaimed a blow full at his heart; but the protecting power which watchesover the great and good turned aside the hostile blade and directed itto a side-pocket, where reposed an enormous iron tobacco-box endowed, like the shield of Achilles, with supernatural powers, doubtless frombearing the portrait of the blessed Saint Nicholas. Peter Stuyvesantturned like an angry bear upon the foe, and seizing him as he fled by animmeasurable queue, "Ah, caterpillar!" roared he, "here's what shallmake worm's meat of thee!" So saying, he whirled his sword and dealt ablow that would have decapitated the varlet, but that the pitying steelstruck short and shaved the queue forever from his crown. At this momentan arquebusier levelled his piece from a neighboring mound with deadlyaim; but the watchful Minerva, who had just stopped to tie up hergarter, seeing the peril of her favorite hero, sent old Boreas with hisbellows, who as the match descended to the pan gave a blast that blewthe priming from the touch-hole. 

Thus waged the fight, when the stout Risingh, surveying the field fromthe top of a little ravelin, perceived his troops banged, beaten, andkicked by the invincible Peter. Drawing his falchion and uttering athousand anathemas, he strode down to the scene of combat with some suchthundering strides as Jupiter is said by Hesiod to have taken when hestrode down the spheres to hurl his thunderbolts at the Titans. 

When the rival heroes came face to face each made a prodigious start inthe style of a veteran stage champion. Then did they regard each otherfor a moment with the bitter aspect of two furious tom-cats on the pointof a clapper-clawing. Then did they throw themselves into one attitude, then into another striking their swords on the ground first on the rightside, then on the left; at last at it they went with incredibleferocity. Words cannot tell the prodigies of strength and valordisplayed in this direful encounter--an encounter compared to which thefar-famed battles of Ajax with Hector, of Æneas with Turnus, Orlandowith Rodomont, Guy of Warwick with Colbrand the Dane, or of thatrenowned Welsh knight Sir Owen of the mountains with the giant Guylon, were all gentle sports and holiday recreations. At length the valiantPeter, watching his opportunity, aimed a blow, enough to cleave hisadversary to the very chine; but Risingh nimbly raising his sword, warded it off so narrowly that glancing on one side, it shaved away ahuge canteen in which he carried his liquor: thence, pursuing itstrenchant course, it severed off a deep coat-pocket stored with breadand cheese; which provant, rolling among the armies, occasioned afearful scrambling between the Swedes and Dutchmen, and made the generalbattle to wax ten times more furious than ever. 

Enraged to see his military stores laid waste, the stout Risingh, collecting all his forces, aimed a mighty blow full at the hero's crest. In vain did his fierce little cocked hat oppose its course. The bitingsteel clove through the stubborn ram-beaver, and would have cracked thecrown of any one not endowed with supernatural hardness of head; but thebrittle weapon shivered in pieces on the skull of Hardkoppig Piet, shedding a thousand sparks like beams of glory round his grizzly visage. 

The good Peter reeled with the blow, and, turning up his eyes, beheld athousand suns, beside moons and stars, dancing about the firmament. Atlength, missing his footing by reason of his wooden leg, down he cameon his seat of honor with a crash which shook the surrounding hills, andmight have wrecked his frame had he not been received into a cushionsofter than velvet which Providence had benevolently prepared for hisreception. 

The furious Risingh, in despite of the maxim, cherished by all trueknights, that "fair play is a jewel, " hastened to take advantage of thehero's fall; but as he stooped to give a fatal blow, Peter Stuyvesantdealt him a thwack over the sconce with his wooden leg, which set achime of bells ringing triple bobmajors in his cerebellum. Thebewildered Swede staggered with the blow, and the wary Peter seizing apocket-pistol which lay hard by, discharged it full at the head of thereeling Risingh. Let not my reader mistake: it was not a murderousweapon loaded with powder and ball, but a little sturdy stone pottlecharged to the muzzle with a double dram of true Dutch courage, whichthe knowing Antony Van Corlear carried about him by way of replenishinghis valor and which had dropped from his wallet during his furiousencounter with the drummer. The hideous weapon sang through the air, andtrue to its course as was the fragment of a rock discharged at Hector bybully Ajax, encountered the head of the gigantic Swede with matchlessviolence. 

This heaven-directed blow decided the battle. The ponderous pericraniumof General Jan Risingh sank upon his breast, his knees tottered underhim, a death-like torpor seized upon his frame, and he tumbled to theearth with such violence that old Pluto started with affright, lest heshould have broken through the roof of his infernal palace. 

His fall was the signal of defeat and victory: the Swedes gave way, theDutch pressed forward; the former took to their heels, the latter hotlypursued. Some entered with them, pell-mell, through the sally-port;others stormed the bastion, and others scrambled over the curtain. Thusin a little while the fortress of Fort Christina, which, like anotherTroy, had stood a siege of full ten hours, was carried by assaultwithout the loss of a single man on either side. Victory, in thelikeness of a gigantic ox-fly, sat perched upon the cocked hat of thegallant Stuyvesant, and it was declared by all the writers whom he hiredto write the history of his expedition that on this memorable day hegained a sufficient quantity of glory to immortalize a dozen of thegreatest heroes in Christendom!

FOOTNOTES:

[242-1] This is a narrow strait in East River, between Manhattan andLong Island. It is dangerous by reason of numerous rocks, shelves, andwhirlpools. These have received sundry appellations, such as theGridiron, Frying-pan, Hog's Back, Pot, etc. 

[Illustration]

THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR

_By_ ROBERT SOUTHEY

 NOTE. --The great naval hero of England is Horatio, Viscount Nelson, who was born in September, 1758, in a country village of Norfolk. Under the guardianship of his uncle, Captain Suckling, he entered the navy as a midshipman when he was but twelve years old, and he was promoted rapidly. By the time war broke out with France in 1793 he had risen so high that he was made commander of the sixty-four gun ship _Agamemnon_. In 1797 he was made rear-admiral, and he received other honors for conspicuous gallantry in action. In an unsuccessful attack on Santa Cruz, in the island of Teneriffe, Nelson lost his right arm. The first of his very great achievements was the destruction of the French fleet in the Battle of Aboukir Bay, in 1798; the last was the famous Battle of Trafalgar, the account of which we quote from Southey's _Life of Nelson_. He had been made, in 1803, Commander in Chief of the Mediterranean fleet, and on his flagship _Victory_ had spent two years watching the French and hampering their movements. He prevented Napoleon from invading England. 

At Portsmouth, Nelson, at length, found news of the combined fleet. SirRobert Calder, who had been sent out to intercept their return, hadfallen in with them on the 22nd of July, sixty leagues west of CapeFinisterre. Their force consisted of twenty sail of the line, threefifty-gun ships, five frigates, and two brigs: his, of fifteen line ofbattle ships, two frigates, a cutter, and a lugger. After an action offour hours he had captured an 84 and a 74, and then thought it necessaryto bring-to the squadron, for the purpose of securing their prizes. Thehostile fleets remained in sight of each other till the 26th, when theenemy bore away. 

The capture of two ships from so superior a force, would have beenconsidered as no inconsiderable victory a few years earlier; but Nelsonhad introduced a new era in our naval history, and the nation felt, respecting this action, as he had felt on a somewhat similar occasion. They regretted that Nelson, with his eleven ships, had not been in SirRobert Calder's place; and their disappointment was generally and loudlyexpressed. 

Frustrated as his own hopes had been, Nelson had yet the highsatisfaction of knowing that his judgment had never been moreconspicuously approved, and that he had rendered essential service tohis country by driving the enemy from those islands, where they expectedthere could be no force capable of opposing them. The West Indiamerchants in London, as men whose interests were more immediatelybenefited, appointed a deputation to express their thanks for his greatand judicious exertions. It was now his intention to rest awhile fromhis labours, and recruit himself, after all his fatigues and cares, inthe society of those whom he loved. All his stores were brought up fromthe _Victory_; and he found in his house at Merton the enjoyment whichhe had anticipated. 

Many days had not elapsed before Captain Blackwood, on his way to Londonwith despatches, called on him at five in the morning. Nelson, who wasalready dressed, exclaimed, the moment he saw him: "I am sure you bringme news of the French and Spanish fleets! I think I shall yet have tobeat them!"

They had refitted at Vigo, after the indecisive action with Sir RobertCalder; then proceeded to Ferrol, brought out the squadron from thence, and with it entered Cadiz in safety. 

[Illustration: I SHALL YET HAVE TO BEAT THEM!]

"Depend on it, Blackwood, " he said, "I shall give M. Villeneuve adrubbing. "

But, when Blackwood had left him, he wanted resolution to declare hiswishes to Lady Hamilton and his sisters, and endeavored to drive awaythe thought. "I have done enough, " he said; "let the man trudge it whohas lost his budget. "

His countenance belied his lips; and as he was pacing one of the walksin the garden, which he used to call the quarter-deck, Lady Hamiltoncame up to him, and told him she saw he was uneasy. 

He smiled and said:

"No, I am as happy as possible; I am surrounded by my family; my healthis better since I have been on shore, and I would not give sixpence tocall the king my uncle?"

She replied, that she did not believe him, --that she knew he was longingto get at the combined fleets, --that he considered them as his ownproperty--that he would be miserable if any man but himself did thebusiness, and that he ought to have them, as the price and reward of histwo years' long watching, and his hard chase. 

"Nelson, " said she, "however we may lament your absence, offer yourservices; they will be accepted, and you will gain a quiet heart by it:you will have a glorious victory, and then you may return here and behappy. " He looked at her with tears in his eyes--"Brave Emma! GoodEmma!--If there were more Emmas there would be more Nelsons. "

His services were as willingly accepted as they were offered; and LordBarham, giving him the list of the navy, desired him to choose his ownofficers. 

"Choose yourself, my lord, " was his reply: "the same spirit actuates thewhole profession: you cannot choose wrong. "

Lord Barham then desired him to say what ships, and how many, he wouldwish, in addition to the fleet which he was going to command, and saidthey should follow him as soon as each was ready. 

No appointment was ever more in unison with the feelings and judgment ofthe whole nation. They, like Lady Hamilton, thought that the destructionof the combined fleets ought properly be Nelson's work: that he, who hadbeen

 "Half around the sea-girt ball, The hunter of the recreant Gaul, "

ought to reap the spoils of the chase, which he had watched so long, andso perseveringly pursued. 

Unremitting exertions were made to equip the ships which he had chosen, and especially to refit the _Victory_, which was once more to bear hisflag. 

Before he left London he called at his upholsterer's, where the coffin, which Captain Hallowell had given him, was deposited; and desired thatits history might be engraven upon the lid, saying, it was highlyprobable that he might want it on his return. He seemed, indeed, to havebeen impressed with an expectation that he should fall in the battle. Ina letter to his brother, written immediately after his return, he hadsaid: "We must not talk of Sir Robert Calder's battle--I might not havedone so much with my small force. If I had fallen in with them, youmight probably have been a lord before I wished; for I know they meantto make a dead set at the _Victory_. "

Nelson had once regarded the prospect of death with gloomy satisfaction:it was when he anticipated the upbraidings of his wife, and thedispleasure of his venerable father. The state of his feelings now wasexpressed, in his private journal, in these words:

"Friday night (Sept. 13), at half-past ten, I drove from dear, dearMerton, where I left all which I hold dear in this world, to go to servemy king and country. May the great God, whom I adore, enable me tofulfil the expectations of my country! and, if it is His good pleasurethat I should return, my thanks will never cease being offered up to thethrone of His mercy. If it is His good providence to cut short my daysupon earth, I bow with the greatest submission; relying that He willprotect those so dear to me, whom I may leave behind! His will be done!Amen! Amen! Amen!"

Early on the following morning he reached Portsmouth; and, havingdespatched his business on shore, endeavoured to elude the populace bytaking a by-way to the beach; but a crowd collected in his train, pressing forward to obtain a sight of his face;--many were in tears, andmany knelt down before him, and blessed him as he passed. England hashad many heroes, but never one who so entirely possessed the love of hisfellow-countrymen as Nelson. All men knew that his heart was as humaneas it was fearless; that there was not in his nature the slightest alloyof selfishness or cupidity; but that, with perfect and entire devotion, he served his country with all his heart, and with all his soul, andwith all his strength; and, therefore, they loved him as truly and asfervently as he loved England. They pressed upon the parapet to gazeafter him when his barge pushed off, and he was returning their cheersby waving his hat. The sentinels, who endeavoured to prevent them fromtrespassing upon this ground, were wedged among the crowd; and anofficer, who, not very prudently upon such an occasion, ordered them todrive the people down with their bayonets, was compelled speedily toretreat; for the people would not be debarred from gazing, till the lastmoment, upon the hero, the darling hero of England. 

He arrived off Cadiz on the 29th of September, --his birthday. Fearingthat, if the enemy knew his force, they might be deterred from venturingto sea, he kept out of sight of land, desired Collingwood to fire nosalute and hoist no colours, and wrote to Gibraltar, to request that theforce of the fleet might not be inserted there in the _Gazette_. Hisreception in the Mediterranean fleet was as gratifying as the farewellof his countrymen at Portsmouth: the officers, who came on board towelcome him, forgot his rank as commander, in their joy at seeing himagain. 

On the day of his arrival, Villeneuve received orders to put to sea thefirst opportunity. Villeneuve, however, hesitated when he heard thatNelson had resumed the command. He called a council of war; and theirdetermination was, that it would not be expedient to leave Cadiz, unlessthey had reason to believe themselves stronger by one-third than theBritish force. 

In the public measures of this country secrecy is seldom practicable, and seldom attempted: here, however, by the precautions of Nelson andthe wise measures of the Admiralty, the enemy were for once kept inignorance: for, as the ships appointed to reinforce the Mediterraneanfleet were despatched singly--each as soon as it was ready--theircollected number was not stated in the newspapers, and their arrival wasnot known to the enemy. But the enemy knew that Admiral Louis, with sixsail, had been detached for stores and water to Gibraltar. Accident alsocontributed to make the French admiral doubt whether Nelson himself hadactually taken the command. An American, lately arrived from England, maintained that it was impossible, for he had seen him only a few daysbefore in London, and, at that time, there was no rumour of his goingagain to sea. 

The station which Nelson had chosen was some fifty or sixty miles to thewest of Cadiz, near Cape Saint Mary's. At this distance he hoped todecoy the enemy out, while he guarded against the danger of being caughtwith a westerly wind near Cadiz, and driven within the Straits. Theblockade of the port was rigorously enforced; in hopes that the combinedfleet might be forced to sea by want. 

There was now every indication that the enemy would speedily ventureout: officers and men were in the highest spirits at the prospect ofgiving them a decisive blow, such, indeed, as would put an end to allfurther contest upon the seas. Theatrical amusements were performedevery evening in most of the ships, and _God Save the King_ was the hymnwith which the sports concluded. 

"I verily believe, " said Nelson (writing on the 6th of October), "thatthe country will soon be put to some expense on my account; either amonument, or a new pension and honours; for I have not the smallestdoubt but that a very few days, almost hours, will put us in battle. Thesuccess no man can ensure; but for the fighting them, if they can be gotat, I pledge myself. --The sooner the better; I don't like to have thesethings upon my mind. "

At this time he was not without some cause of anxiety: he was in want offrigates--the eyes of the fleet--as he always called them--to the wantof which, the enemy before were indebted for their escape, and Bonapartefor his arrival in Egypt. He had only twenty-three ships--others were onthe way--but they might come too late; and, though Nelson never doubtedof victory, mere victory was not what he looked to--he wanted toannihilate the enemy's fleet. The Carthagena squadron might effect ajunction with this fleet on the one side; and, on the other, it was tobe expected that a similar attempt would be made by the French fromBrest;--in either case, a formidable contingency to be apprehended bythe blockading force. The Rochefort squadron did push out, and hadnearly caught the _Agamemnon_ and _l'Aimable_, in their way to reinforcethe British admiral. Yet Nelson at this time weakened his own fleet. Hehad the unpleasant task to perform of sending home Sir Robert Calder, whose conduct was to be made the subject of a court-martial, inconsequence of the general dissatisfaction which had been felt andexpressed at his imperfect victory. 

On the 9th Nelson sent Collingwood what he called, in his dairy, theNelson-touch. "I send you, " said he, "my plan of attack, as far as a mandare venture to guess at the very uncertain position the enemy may befound in: but it is to place you perfectly at ease respecting myintentions, and to give full scope to your judgment for carrying theminto effect. We can, my dear Coll, have no little jealousies. We haveonly one great object in view, that of annihilating our enemies, andgetting a glorious peace for our country. No man has more confidence inanother than I have in you; and no man will render your services morejustice than your very old friend Nelson and Bronté. "

The order of sailing was to be the order of battle; the fleet in twolines, with an advanced squadron of eight of the fastest sailingtwo-deckers. The second in command, having the entire direction of hisline, was to break through the enemy, about the twelfth ship from theirrear: he would lead through the centre, and the advanced squadron was tocut off three or four ahead of the centre. This plan was to be adaptedto the strength of the enemy, so that they should always be one-fourthsuperior to those whom they cut off. 

Nelson said, "My admirals and captains, knowing my precise object to bethat of a close and decisive action, will supply any deficiency ofsignals, and act accordingly. In case signals cannot be seen or clearlyunderstood, no captain can do wrong if he places his ship alongside thatof an enemy. "

One of the last orders of this admirable man was, that the name andfamily of every officer, seaman, and marine, who might be killed orwounded in action, should be, as soon as possible, returned to him, inorder to be transmitted to the chairman of the Patriotic Fund, that thecase might be taken into consideration, for the benefit of the suffereror his family. 

About half-past nine in the morning of the 19th, the _Mars_, being thenearest to the fleet of the ships which formed the line of communicationwith the frigates in shore, repeated the signal that the enemy werecoming out of port. The wind was at this time very light, with partialbreezes, mostly from the S. S. W. Nelson ordered the signal to be made fora chase in the southeast quarter. About two, the repeating shipsannounced that the enemy were at sea. 

All night the British fleet continued under all sail, steering to thesoutheast. At daybreak they were in the entrance of the Straits, but theenemy was not in sight. About seven, one of the frigates made signalthat the enemy were bearing north. Upon this the _Victory_ hove to; andshortly afterwards Nelson made sail again to the northward. In theafternoon the wind blew fresh from the southwest, and the English beganto fear that the foe might be forced to return to port. A little beforesunset, however, Blackwood, in the _Euryalus_, telegraphed that theyappeared determined to go to the westward, --"And that, " said the admiralin his diary, "they shall not do, if it is in the power of Nelson andBronté to prevent them. "

Nelson had signified to Blackwood, that he depended upon him to keepsight of the enemy. They were observed so well, that all their motionswere made known to him; and, as they wore twice, he inferred that theywere aiming to keep the port of Cadiz open, and would retreat there assoon as they saw the British fleet: for this reason he was very carefulnot to approach near enough to be seen by them during the night. 

At daybreak the combined fleets were distinctly seen from the_Victory's_ deck, formed in a close line of battle ahead, on thestarboard tack, about twelve miles to leeward, and standing to thesouth. Our fleet consisted of twenty-seven sail of the line and fourfrigates; theirs of thirty-three, and seven large frigates. Theirsuperiority was greater in size, and weight of metal, than in numbers. They had four thousand troops on board; and the best riflemen who couldbe procured, many of them Tyrolese, were dispersed through the ships. Little did the Tyrolese, and little did the Spaniards, at that day, imagine what horrors the wicked tyrant whom they served was preparingfor their country!

Soon after daylight Nelson came upon deck. The 21st of October was afestival in his family; because on that day his uncle, Captain Suckling, in the _Dreadnought_, with two other line of battle ships, had beatenoff a French squadron of four sail of the line and three frigates. Nelson, with that sort of superstition from which few persons areentirely exempt, had more than once expressed his persuasion that thiswas to be the day of his battle also; and he was well pleased at seeinghis prediction about to be verified. 

The wind was now from the west, --light breezes, with a long heavy swell. Signal was made to bear down upon the enemy in two lines; and the fleetset all sail. Collingwood, in the _Royal Sovereign_, led the lee-line ofthirteen ships; the _Victory_ led the weather-line of fourteen. 

Having seen that all was as it should be, Nelson retired to his cabin, and wrote this prayer:--

 "May the Great God, whom I worship, grant to my country, and for the benefit of Europe in general, a great and glorious victory; and may no misconduct in any one tarnish it; and may humanity after victory be the predominant feature in the British fleet! For myself individually, I commit my life to Him that made me, and may His blessing alight on my endeavours for serving my country faithfully! To Him I resign myself, and the just cause which is intrusted to me to defend. Amen, Amen, Amen. "

Blackwood went on board the _Victory_ about six. He found Nelson in goodspirits, but very calm; not in that exhilaration which he had felt uponentering into battle at Aboukir and Copenhagen; he knew that his ownlife would be particularly aimed at, and seems to have looked for deathwith almost as sure an expectation as for victory. His whole attentionwas fixed upon the enemy. They tacked to the northward, and formed theirline on the larboard tack; thus bringing the shoals of Trafalgar and St. Pedro under the lee of the British, and keeping the port of Cadiz openfor themselves. This was judiciously done: and Nelson, aware of all theadvantages which it gave them, made signal to prepare to anchor. 

Villeneuve was a skilful seaman; worthy of serving a better master and abetter cause. His plan of defence was as well conceived, and asoriginal, as the plan of attack. He formed the fleet in a double line, every alternate ship being about a cable's length to windward of hersecond ahead and astern. 

Nelson, certain of a triumphant issue to the day, asked Blackwood whathe should consider as a victory. That officer answered, that, considering the handsome way in which battle was offered by the enemy, their apparent determination for a fair trial of strength, and thesituation of the land, he thought it would be a glorious result iffourteen were captured. He replied: "I shall not be satisfied with lessthan twenty. "

Soon afterwards he asked him if he did not think there was a signalwanting. Captain Blackwood made answer that he thought the whole fleetseemed very clearly to understand what they were about. These words werescarcely spoken before that signal was made, which will be remembered aslong as the language, or even the memory, of England shallendure--Nelson's last signal:--

 "_England expects every man to do his duty!_"

It was received throughout the fleet with a shout of answeringacclamation, made sublime by the spirit which it breathed and thefeeling which it expressed. "Now, " said Lord Nelson, "I can do no more. We must trust to the Great Disposer of all events, and the justice ofour cause. I thank God for this great opportunity of doing my duty. "

He wore that day, as usual, his admiral's frock coat, bearing on theleft breast four stars of the different orders with which he wasinvested. Ornaments which rendered him so conspicuous a mark for theenemy, were beheld with ominous apprehensions by his officers. It wasknown that there were riflemen on board the French ships, and it couldnot be doubted but that his life would be particularly aimed at. Theycommunicated their fears to each other; and the surgeon, Mr. Beatty, spoke to the chaplain, Dr. Scott, and to Mr. Scott, the publicsecretary, desiring that some person would entreat him to change hisdress, or cover the stars: but they knew that such a request wouldhighly displease him. "In honour I gained them, " he had said when such athing had been hinted to him formerly, "and in honour I will die withthem. " Mr. Beatty, however, would not have been deterred by any fear ofexciting his displeasure, from speaking to him himself upon a subject inwhich the weal of England as well as the life of Nelson was concerned, but he was ordered from the deck before he could find an opportunity. 

This was a point upon which Nelson's officers knew that it was hopelessto remonstrate or reason with him; but both Blackwood, and his owncaptain, Hardy, represented to him how advantageous to the fleet itwould be for him to keep out of action as long as possible; and heconsented at last to let the _Leviathan_ and the _Temeraire_, which weresailing abreast of the _Victory_, be ordered to pass ahead. Yet evenhere the last infirmity of this noble mind was indulged; for these shipscould not pass ahead if the _Victory_ continued to carry all her sail;and so far was Nelson from shortening sail, that it was evident he tookpleasure in pressing on, and rendering it impossible for them to obeyhis own orders. 

A long swell was setting into the Bay of Cadiz: our ships, crowding allsail, moved majestically before it, with light winds from the southwest. The sun shone on the sails of the enemy; and their well-formed line, with their numerous three-deckers, made an appearance which any otherassailants would have thought formidable; but the British sailors onlyadmired the beauty and the splendour of the spectacle; and, in fullconfidence of winning what they saw, remarked to each other, what afine sight yonder ships would make at Spithead!

The French admiral, from the _Bucentaure_, beheld the new manner inwhich his enemy was advancing, Nelson and Collingwood each leading hisline; and, pointing them out to his officers, he is said to haveexclaimed, that such conduct could not fail to be successful. YetVilleneuve had made his own dispositions with the utmost skill, and thefleets under his command waited for the attack with perfect coolness. 

Ten minutes before twelve they opened their fire. Eight or nine of theships immediately ahead of the _Victory_, and across her bows, firedsingle guns at her, to ascertain whether she was yet within their range. As soon as Nelson perceived that their shot passed over him, he desiredBlackwood, and Captain Prowse, of the _Sirius_, to repair to theirrespective frigates; and, on their way, to tell all the captains of theline of battle ships that he depended on their exertions; and that, ifby the prescribed mode of attack they found it impracticable to get intoaction immediately, they might adopt whatever they thought best, provided it led them quickly and closely alongside an enemy. 

As they were standing on the front of the poop, Blackwood took him bythe hand, saying, he hoped soon to return and find him in possession oftwenty prizes. He replied: "God bless you, Blackwood! I shall never seeyou again. "

Nelson's column was steered about two points more to the north thanCollingwood's, in order to cut off the enemy's escape into Cadiz: thelee-line, therefore, was first engaged. 

"See, " cried Nelson, pointing to the _Royal Sovereign_, as she steeredright for the centre of the enemy's line, cut through it astern of the_Santa Anna_, three-decker, and engaged her at the muzzle of her guns onthe starboard side: "see how that noble fellow, Collingwood, carries hisship into action!"

Collingwood, delighted at being first in the heat of the fire, andknowing the feelings of his commander and old friend, turned to hiscaptain, and exclaimed, "Rotherham, what would Nelson give to be here!"

Both these brave officers, perhaps, at this moment thought of Nelsonwith gratitude, for a circumstance which had occurred on the precedingday. Admiral Collingwood, with some of the captains, having gone onboard the _Victory_ to receive instructions, Nelson inquired of himwhere his captain was and was told, in reply, that they were not upongood terms with each other. "Terms!" said Nelson;--"good terms with eachother!" Immediately he sent a boat for Captain Rotherham; led him, assoon as he arrived, to Collingwood, and said, "Look, yonder are theenemy! Shake hands like Englishmen. "

The enemy continued to fire a gun at a time at the _Victory_, till theysaw that a shot had passed through her main-topgallant-sail; then theyopened their broadsiders, aiming chiefly at her rigging, in the hope ofdisabling her before she could close with them. 

Nelson, as usual, had hoisted several flags, lest one should be shotaway. The enemy showed no colors till late in the action, when theybegan to feel the necessity of having them to strike. For this reason, the _Santissima Trinidad_, Nelson's old acquaintance, as he used to callher, was distinguishable only by her four decks; and to the bow of thisopponent he ordered the _Victory_ to be steered. 

Meantime an incessant raking fire was kept up upon the _Victory_. Theadmiral's secretary was one of the first who fell: he was killed by acannon-shot, while conversing with Hardy. Captain Adair, of the marines, with the help of a sailor, endeavoured to remove the body from Nelson'ssight, who had a great regard for Mr. Scott; but he anxiously asked, "Isthat poor Scott that's gone?" and being informed that it was indeed so, exclaimed, "Poor fellow!"

Presently a double-headed shot struck a party of marines, who were drawnup on the poop, and killed eight of them: upon which Nelson immediatelydesired Captain Adair to disperse his men round the ship, that theymight not suffer so much from being together. 

A few minutes afterwards a shot struck the fore brace bits on thequarter-deck, and passed between Nelson and Hardy, a splinter from thebit tearing off Hardy's buckle and bruising his foot. Both stopped, andlooked anxiously at each other, each supposing the other to be wounded. Nelson then smiled, and said, "This is too warm work, Hardy, to lastlong. "

The _Victory_ had not yet returned a single gun: fifty of her men hadbeen by this time killed or wounded, and her main-topmast, with all herstudding sails and their booms, shot away. Nelson declared that, in allhis battles, he had seen nothing which surpassed the cool courage ofhis crew on this occasion. 

At four minutes after twelve she opened her fire from both sides of herdeck. It was not possible to break the enemy's line without running onboard one of their ships: Hardy informed him of this, and asked which hewould prefer. 

Nelson replied: "Take your choice, Hardy, it does not signify much. "

The master was then ordered to put the helm to port, and the _Victory_ran on board the _Redoubtable_, just as her tiller ropes were shot away. The French ship received her with a broadside; then instantly let downher lower-deck ports, for fear of being boarded through them, and neverafterwards fired a great gun during the action. Her tops, like those ofall the enemy's ships, were filled with riflemen. Nelson never placedmusketry in his tops; he had a strong dislike to the practice, notmerely because it endangers setting fire to the sails, but also becauseit is a murderous sort of warfare, by which individuals may suffer, anda commander, now and then, be picked off, but which never can decide thefate of a general engagement. 

Captain Harvey, in the _Temeraire_, fell on board the _Redoubtable_ onthe other side. Another enemy was in like manner on board the_Temeraire_; so that these four ships formed as compact a tier as ifthey had been moored together, their heads lying all the same way. Thelieutenants of the _Victory_, seeing this, depressed their guns of themiddle and lower decks, and fired with a diminished charge, lest theshot should pass through, and injure the _Temeraire_. And because therewas danger that the _Redoubtable_ might take fire from the lower-deckguns, the muzzles of which touched her side when they were run out, thefireman of each gun stood ready with a bucket of water, which, as soonas the gun was discharged, he dashed into the hole made by the shot. Anincessant fire was kept up from the _Victory_ from both sides; herlarboard guns playing upon the _Bucentaure_ and the huge _SantissimaTrinidad_. 

[Illustration: AN INCESSANT FIRE WAS KEPT UP BY THE "VICTORY"]

It had been part of Nelson's prayer that the British fleet might bedistinguished by humanity in the victory which he expected. Setting anexample himself, he twice gave orders to cease firing upon the_Redoubtable_, supposing that she had struck, because her great gunswere silent; for, as she carried no flag, there was no means ofinstantly ascertaining the fact. 

From this ship, which he had thus twice spared, he received his death. Aball fired from her mizzen-top, which, in the then situation of the twovessels, was not more than fifteen yards from that part of the deckwhere he was standing, struck the epaulette on his left shoulder, --abouta quarter after one, just in the heat of the action. He fell upon hisface, on the spot which was covered with his poor secretary's blood. Hardy, who was a few steps from him, turning round, saw three menraising him up. 

"They have done for me at last, Hardy, " said he. 

"I hope not!" cried Hardy. 

"Yes, " he replied; "my backbone is shot through. "

Yet even now, not for a moment losing his presence of mind, he observed, as they were carrying him down the ladder, that the tiller ropes, whichhad been shot away, were not yet replaced, and ordered that new onesshould be rove immediately:--then, that he might not be seen by thecrew, he took out his handkerchief, and covered his face and hisstars. --Had he but concealed these badges of honour from the enemy, England, perhaps, would not have had cause to receive with sorrow thenews of the battle of Trafalgar. 

The cockpit was crowded with wounded and dying men, over whose bodies hewas with some difficulty conveyed, and laid upon a pallet in themidshipmen's berth. It was soon perceived, upon examination, that thewound was mortal. This, however, was concealed from all, except CaptainHardy, the chaplain, and the medical attendants. He himself beingcertain, from the sensation in his back, and the gush of blood which hefelt momently within his breast, that no human care could avail him, insisted that the surgeon should leave him, and attend to those to whomhe might be useful: "For, " said he, "you can do nothing for me. "

[Illustration: HE FELL UPON HIS FACE]

All that could be done was to fan him with paper, and frequently togive him lemonade, to alleviate his intense thirst. He was in greatpain, and expressed much anxiety for the event of the action, which nowbegan to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, the crew of the_Victory_ hurrahed, and at every hurrah a visible expression of joygleamed in the eyes, and marked the countenance of the dying hero. Buthe became impatient to see Captain Hardy; and as that officer, thoughoften sent for, could not leave the deck, Nelson feared that some fatalcause prevented him, and repeatedly cried: "Will no one bring Hardy tome? He must be killed! He surely is dead!"

An hour and ten minutes elapsed, from the time when Nelson received hiswound, before Hardy could come to him. They shook hands in silence:Hardy in vain struggling to suppress the feelings of that most painful, and yet sublimest moment. 

"Well, Hardy, " said Nelson, "how goes the day with us?"

"Very well, " replied Hardy. "Ten ships have struck, but five of theirvan have tacked, and show an intention of bearing down upon the_Victory_. I have called two or three of our fresh ships round, and haveno doubt of giving them a drubbing. "

"I hope, " said Nelson, "none of our ships struck. "

Hardy answered, "There was no fear of that. "

Then and not till then, Nelson spoke of himself. 

"I am a dead man, Hardy, " he said; "I am going fast; it will be all overwith me soon. Come nearer to me. My back is shot through. Beatty willtell you so. "

Captain Hardy then once more shook hands with him; and, with a heartalmost bursting, hastened upon deck. By this time all feeling below thebreast was gone, and Nelson, having made the surgeon ascertain this, said: "You know I am gone. I know it. I feel something rising in mybreast"--putting his hand to his left side--"which tells me so. " Andupon Beatty's inquiring whether his pain was very great, he replied, "Sogreat that I wish I was dead. Yet, " said he, in a lower voice, "onewould like to live a little longer, too!"

Captain Hardy, some fifty minutes after he had left the cockpit, returned; and, again taking the hand of his dying friend and commander, congratulated him upon having gained a complete victory. How many of theenemy were taken he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive themdistinctly--but fourteen or fifteen of them at least. 

"That's well, " cried Nelson; "but I bargained for twenty. " And then, ina stronger voice, he said, "Anchor, Hardy; anchor. "

Hardy upon this, hinted that Admiral Collingwood would take upon himselfthe direction of affairs. 

"Not while I live, Hardy!" said the dying Nelson, ineffectuallyendeavouring to raise himself from the bed; "do you anchor. "

His previous order for preparing to anchor had shown how clearly heforesaw the necessity of this. Presently, calling Hardy back, he said tohim in a low voice, "Don't throw me overboard"; and he desired that hemight be buried by his parents, unless it should please the king toorder otherwise. 

Then, reverting to his private feelings: "Kiss me, Hardy, " said he. Hardy knelt down and kissed his cheek: and Nelson said, "Now I amsatisfied. Thank God, I have done my duty. "

Hardy stood over him in silence for a minute or two; then knelt again, and kissed his forehead. 

"Who is that?" said Nelson; and being informed, he replied, "God blessyou, Hardy. " And Hardy then left him forever. 

Nelson now desired to be turned on his right side, and said: "I wish Ihad not left the deck; for I shall soon be gone. "

Death was, indeed, rapidly approaching. He said to his chaplain:"Doctor, I have not been a great sinner. " His articulation now becamedifficult; but he was distinctly heard to say, "Thank God, I have donemy duty!" These words he had repeatedly pronounced; and they were thelast words he uttered. He expired at thirty minutes after four, --threehours and a quarter after he had received his wound. 

Within a quarter of an hour after Nelson was wounded, above fifty of the_Victory's_ men fell by the enemy's musketry. They, however, on theirpart, were not idle; and it was not long before there were only twoFrenchmen left alive in the mizzen-top of the _Redoubtable_. One of themwas the man who had given the fatal wound: he did not live to boast ofwhat he had done. An old quartermaster had seen him fire; and easilyrecognized him, because he wore a glazed cocked hat and a white frock. This quartermaster, and two midshipmen, Mr. Collingwood and Mr. Pollard, were the only persons left on the _Victory's_ poop; the two midshipmenkept firing at the top, and he supplied them with cartridges. One of theFrenchmen, attempting to make his escape down the rigging, was shot byMr. Pollard, and fell on the poop. But the old quartermaster, as hecried out, "That's he, that's he, " and pointed at the other, who wascoming forward to fire again, received a shot in his mouth, and felldead. Both the midshipmen then fired, at the same time, and the fellowdropped in the top. When they took possession of the prize, they wentinto the mizzen-top, and found him dead; with one ball through his head, and another through his breast. 

The _Redoubtable_ struck within twenty minutes after the fatal shot hadbeen fired from her. During that time she had been twice on fire, --inher fore-chains and in her forecastle. The French, as they had done inother battles, made use, in this, of fireballs and othercombustibles--implements of destruction which other nations, from asense of honour and humanity, have laid aside--which add to thesufferings of the wounded, without determining the issue of thecombat--which none but the cruel would employ, and which never can besuccessful against the brave. 

[Illustration: AN OLD QUARTERMASTER HAD SEEN HIM FIRE]

Once they succeeded in setting fire, from the _Redoubtable_, to someropes and canvas on the _Victory's_ booms. The cry ran through the ship, and reached the cockpit; but even this dreadful cry produced noconfusion: the men displayed that perfect self-possession in danger bywhich English seamen are characterized; they extinguished the flames onboard their own ship, and then hastened to extinguish them in the enemy, by throwing buckets of water from the gangway. When the _Redoubtable_had struck, it was not practicable to board her from the _Victory_; for, though the two ships touched, the upper works of both fell in so much, that there was a great space between their gangways; and she could notbe boarded from the lower or middle decks, because her ports were down. Some of our men went to Lieutenant Quilliam, and offered to swim underher bows and get up there; but it was thought unfit to hazard bravelives in this manner. 

What our men would have done from gallantry, some of the crew of the_Santissima Trinidad_ did to save themselves. Unable to stand thetremendous fire of the _Victory_, whose larboard guns played againstthis great four-decker, and not knowing how else to escape them, norwhere else to betake themselves for protection, many of them leaptoverboard, and swam to the _Victory_; and were actually helped up hersides by the English during the action. 

The Spaniards began the battle with less vivacity than their unworthyallies, but they continued it with greater firmness. The _Argonauta_ and_Bahama_ were defended till they had each lost about four hundred men;the _San Juan Nepomuceno_ lost three hundred and fifty. Often as thesuperiority of British courage has been proved against France upon thesea, it was never more conspicuous than in this decisive conflict. Fiveof our ships were engaged muzzle to muzzle with five of the French. Inall five Frenchmen lowered their lower-deck ports, and deserted theirguns; while our men continued deliberately to load and fire, till theyhad made the victory secure. 

Once, amid his sufferings, Nelson had expressed a wish that he weredead; but immediately the spirit subdued the pains of death, and hewished to live a little longer; doubtless that he might hear thecompletion of the victory which he had seen so gloriously begun. Thatconsolation--that joy--that triumph was afforded him. He lived to knowthat the victory was decisive; and the last guns which were fired at theflying enemy were heard a minute or two before he expired. 

The total British loss in the battle of Trafalgar amounted to 1, 587. Twenty of the enemy struck, --unhappily the fleet did not anchor, asNelson, almost with his dying breath, had enjoined, --a gale came on fromthe southwest; some of the prizes went down, some went on shore; oneeffected its escape into Cadiz; others were destroyed; four only weresaved, and those by the greatest exertions. The wounded Spaniards weresent ashore, an assurance being given that they should not serve tillregularly exchanged; and the Spaniards, with a generous feeling, whichwould not, perhaps, have been found in any other people, offered the useof their hospitals for our wounded, pledging the honour of Spain thatthey should be carefully attended there. When the storm after the actiondrove some of the prizes upon the coast, they declared that the English, who were thus thrown into their hands, should not be considered asprisoners of war; and the Spanish soldiers gave up their own beds totheir shipwrecked enemies. 

It is almost superfluous to add that all the honors which a gratefulcountry could bestow were heaped upon the memory of Nelson. A publicfuneral was decreed, and a public monument. Statues and monuments alsowere voted by most of our principal cities. The leaden coffin, in whichhe was brought home, was cut in pieces, which were distributed as relicsof Saint Nelson, --so the gunner of the _Victory_ called them, --and when, at his interment, his flag was about to be lowered into the grave, thesailors who had assisted at the ceremony, with one accord rent it inpieces, that each might preserve a fragment while he lived. 

The death of Nelson was felt in England as something more than a publiccalamity: men started at the intelligence, and turned pale, as if theyhad heard of the loss of a dear friend. An object of our admiration andaffection, of our pride and of our hopes, was suddenly taken from us;and it seemed as if we had never, till then, known how deeply we lovedand reverenced him. What the country had lost in its great navalhero--the greatest of our own, and of all former times--was scarcelytaken into the account of grief. So perfectly, indeed, had he performedhis part, that the maritime war, after the Battle of Trafalgar, wasconsidered at an end; the fleets of the enemy were not merely defeated, but destroyed; new navies must be built, and a new race of seamen rearedfor them, before the possibility of their invading our shores couldagain be contemplated. 

CASABIANCA

_By_ FELICIA HEMANS

 NOTE. --Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son of the Admiral of the _Orient_, remained at his post (in the Battle of the Nile) after the ship had taken fire and all the guns had been abandoned, and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder. 

 The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead. 

 Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood. A proud though childlike form. 

 The flames rolled on; he would not go Without his father's word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard. 

 He called aloud, "Say, father, say, If yet my task be done?" He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son. 

 "Speak, father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!" And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on. 

 Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair, And looked from that lone post of death In still yet brave despair;

 And shouted but once more aloud, "My father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud The wreathing fires made way. 

 They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child, Like banners in the sky. 

 There came a burst of thunder sound; The boy, --Oh! where was _he_? Ask of the winds, that far around With fragments strewed the sea, --

 With shroud and mast and pennon fair, That well had borne their part, -- But the noblest thing that perished there Was that young, faithful heart. 

THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST

_By_ ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

 Little Ellie sits alone 'Mid the beeches of a meadow, By a stream-side on the grass, And the trees are showering down Doubles of their leaves in shadow, On her shining hair and face. 

 She has thrown her bonnet by, And her feet she has been dipping In the shallow water's flow; Now she holds them nakedly In her hands, all sleek and dripping, While she rocketh to and fro. 

 Little Ellie sits alone, And the smile she softly uses Fills the silence like a speech, While she thinks what shall be done, And the sweetest pleasure chooses For her future within reach. 

 Little Ellie in her smile Chooses, "I will have a lover, Riding on a steed of steeds: He shall love me without guile, And to _him_ I will discover The swan's nest among the reeds. 

 "And the steed shall be red roan, And the lover shall be noble, With an eye that takes the breath. And the lute[316-1] he plays upon Shall strike ladies into trouble, As his sword strikes men to death. 

 "And the steed it shall be shod All in silver, housed in azure;[316-2] And the mane shall swim the wind; And the hoofs along the sod Shall flash onward, and keep measure, Till the shepherds look behind. 

 "But my lover will not prize All the glory that he rides in, When he gazes in my face. He will say, 'O Love, thine eyes Build the shrine my soul abides in, And I kneel here for thy grace!'

 "Then, aye, then shall he kneel low, With the red-roan steed anear him, Which shall seem to understand, Till I answer, 'Rise and go! For the world must love and fear him Whom I gift with heart and hand. '

[Illustration: LITTLE ELLIE SITS ALONE]

 "Then he will arise so pale, I shall feel my own lips tremble With a _yes_ I must not say: Nathless[317-3] maiden-brave, 'Farewell, ' I will utter, and dissemble-- 'Light to-morrow with to-day!'

 "Then he'll ride among the hills To the wide world past the river, There to put away all wrong, To make straight distorted wills, And to empty the broad quiver Which the wicked bear along. 

 "Three times shall a young foot page Swim the stream, and climb the mountain, And kneel down beside my feet: 'Lo! my master sends this gage, [317-4] Lady, for thy pity's counting. What wilt thou exchange for it?'

 "And the first time I will send A white rosebud for a guerdon--[317-5] And the second time, a glove; But the third time--I may bend From my pride, and answer--'Pardon, If he comes to take my love. '

 "Then the young foot page will run-- Then my lover will ride faster, Till he kneeleth at my knee: 'I am a duke's eldest son! Thousand serfs do call me master, -- But, O Love, I love but _thee_!'". .. 

 Little Ellie, with her smile Not yet ended, rose up gayly, Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe, And went homeward, round a mile, Just to see, as she did daily, What more eggs were with the two. 

 Pushing through the elm-tree copse, Winding up the stream, light-hearted, Where the osier pathway leads, Past the boughs she stoops, and stops. Lo! the wild swan had deserted, And a rat had gnawed the reeds!

 Ellie went home sad and slow. If she found the lover ever, With his red-roan steed of steeds, Sooth I know not; but I know She could never show him--never, That swan's nest among the reeds. 

 Mrs. Browning tells us very little of Ellie directly, yet she leaves us with a charming picture of an innocent, imaginative, romantic child. Ellie has been reading or listening to tales of knight-errantry, and her mind is full of them, so that the "sweetest pleasure . .. For her future" is a lover riding straight out of one of the romances. That she is only a child, with a child's ideas, we may see from the fact that she can think, in her simplicity, of no greater reward for her noble lover than a sight of the swan's nest among the reeds, of which she alone knows. 

 Mrs. Browning's purpose in writing this little story in verse was to show us how suddenly and how rudely unpleasant facts can break in upon our dreams. Ellie could never show her lover the swan's nest, as she had planned; and we are left with the feeling that she never found the lover of whom she dreamed--that all of her dream proved as false as the beautiful thought about the swan's nest. 

FOOTNOTES:

[316-1] It would seem strange to us now if a soldier rode about playingupon a lute; but in the old days of chivalry about which little Elliehad been reading, it was looked upon as almost necessary for a knight tobe able to play and sing sweet songs to his lady. 

[316-2] The saddle-cloth or housing of the medieval knights wassometimes very large and gorgeous. 

[317-3] _Nathless_ is an old word meaning _nevertheless_. Mrs. Browninguses an occasional old word, in order to give the atmosphere of thetales of chivalry. 

[317-4] The _gage_ was a cap or glove, or some other symbol to show thathe had performed the deeds which Ellie had demanded of him. 

[317-5] _Guerdon_ means _reward_. 

THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT

_By_ ROBERT BURNS

 NOTE. --There are many homes we like to visit in imagination, even if we cannot really go into them. It does not matter so much if they are not the homes of people in our own country who live as we do. For instance, Robert Burns described so well for us once the simple little home of a poor Scotch farmer that we read his words again and again with pleasure. It is such a poor little place, low-walled, thatched-roofed, part stable, that it would be unpleasant to us if we did not see it full of the spirit that makes true homes everywhere. The hard-working old farmer, his faithful wife, their industrious children, the oldest girl Jenny and her lover, all seem to us like very real people, whose joys and griefs are ours as much as theirs. We should like to sit with them at their humble table, to join in the good old hymns, and finally to kneel among them while the gentle old man said the evening prayer. We would not notice their homely clothes, coarse hands and simple, unscholarly language, for their real manliness and womanliness would win our esteem and love. 

 On the pages that follow we have printed the poem as Burns wrote it, except for some few stanzas it has seemed best to omit. The first nine stanzas contain many Scottish words and expressions, but after the ninth stanza, Burns uses plain English. It was a habit he had of writing sometimes in Scotch dialect and sometimes in fine English. People who have studied his work say that when he speaks right from his heart and because he really cannot help writing, he uses the dialect, but when he tries to teach a lesson, to advise any one, or to moralize, he always uses the English phraseology. 

 I

 November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;[320-1] The short'ning winter day is near a close; The miry beasts retreating frae[320-2] the pleugh;[320-3] The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose: The toil-worn cotter frae his labor goes, This night his weekly moil[320-4] is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, [320-5] and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. 

 II

 At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree: Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin' stacher[320-6] thro' To meet their dad, wi' flichterin'[320-7] noise an' glee. His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnily, His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does a' his weary carking[320-8] cares beguile, An' makes him quite forget his labour and his toil. 

 III

 Belyve, [321-9] the elder bairns come drappin' in. At service out, amang the farmers roun'; Some ca'[321-10] the pleugh, some herd, some tentie[321-11] rin A cannie[321-12] errand to a neebor town: Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, In youthfu' bloom, love sparklin in her e'e, Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw[321-13] new gown, Or deposit her sair-won[322-14] penny fee, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 

[Illustration: TH' EXPECTANT WEE-THINGS]

 IV

 Wi' joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet, And each for other's weelfare kindly spiers:[322-15] The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnoticed fleet; Each tells the uncos[322-16] that he sees or hears; The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years; Anticipation forward points the view; The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears, Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;[322-17] The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. 

 V

 Their master's an' their mistress's command, The younkers[322-18] a' are warned to obey: "An' mind their labours wi' an eydent[322-19] hand, An' ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk[322-20] or play: An' O! be sure to fear the Lord alway! An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night! Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, Implore his counsel and assisting might: They never sought in vain, that sought the Lord aright!"

 VI

 But hark! a rap comes gently to the door; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor lad cam' o'er the moor, To do some errands and convoy her hame. [323-21] The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, [323-22] and flush her cheek; With heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins[323-23] is afraid to speak; Weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae[323-24] wild, worthless rake. 

 VII

 Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben:[323-25] A strappin' youth; he takes the mother's eye; Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;[323-26] The father cracks[323-27] of horses, pleughs, and kye. [323-28] The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, But blate[323-29] and laithfu', [323-30] scarce can weel behave; The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the youth sae[323-31] bashfu' an' sae grave; Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. [323-32]

 VIII

 But now the supper crowns their simple board, The halesome parritch, [324-33] chief o' Scotia's food: The sowpe[324-34] their only Hawkie[324-35] does afford, That 'yont the hallan[324-36] snugly chows her cood;[324-37] The dame brings forth in complimental mood To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd[324-38] kebbuck[324-39] fell-- An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid;[324-40] The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, How 'twas a towmond[324-41] auld, sin' lint was i' the bell;[324-42]

 IX

 The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, They, round the ingle, form a circle wide; The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha'-Bible, [324-43] ance[324-44] his father's pride: His bonnet[324-45] rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart[324-46] haffets[324-47] wearing thin an' bare: Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales[325-48] a portion with judicious care; And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air. 

[Illustration: ROUND THE INGLE]

 X

 They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim: Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name, Or noble Elgin beats the heav'nward flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays. Compared with these, Italian trills are tame; The tickl'd ears no heart-felt raptures raise; Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 

 XI

 The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heav'n's avenging ire; Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 

 XII

 Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; How He, who bore in heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay his head; How his first followers and servants sped; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land: How _he_, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounc'd by Heaven's command. 

 XIII

 Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exultant on triumphant wing:" That thus they all shall meet in future days There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. 

 XIV

 Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride, In all the pomp of method and of art, When men display to congregations wide, Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart! The Pow'r, incensed, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole; But, haply, in some cottage far apart, May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul; And in the book of life the inmates poor enroll. 

 XV

 Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way; The youngling cottagers retire to rest: The parent-pair their secret homage pay, And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, That He, who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide; But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside. 

FOOTNOTES:

[320-1] _Sugh_ means a hollow, roaring sound. It is our word _sough_. 

[320-2] _Frae_ is the Scotch word meaning from. 

[320-3] _Pleugh_ means _plow_. 

[320-4] _Moil_ is a Scotch word meaning _drudgery_. 

[320-5] A mattock is a two-bladed instrument for digging. 

[320-6] _Stacher_ is the Scotch form of _stagger_. 

[320-7] _Flichtering_ means _fluttering_. 

[320-8] _Carking_ is _trying_. 

[321-9] _Belyve_ means _soon_. 

[321-10] _Ca'_ means _drive_. 

[321-11] _Tentie_ means _carefully_. 

[321-12] _Cannie_ means here _prudent_, or _trusty_. 

[321-13] _Braw_ is _fine, gay_. 

[322-14] _Sair-won_ is _hard-earned_. 

[322-15] _Spiérs_ means enquires. 

[322-16] The _uncos_ is the _news_. 

[322-17] This line means _Makes old clothes look almost as new ones_. 

[322-18] The _younkers_ are the _youngsters_. 

[322-19] _Eydent_ is _diligent_. 

[322-20] To _jauk_ is to _trifle_. 

[323-21] _Hame_ is the Scotch form of our word _home_. 

[323-22] _E'e_ is a contraction for _eye_. 

[323-23] _Hafflins_ means _partly_. 

[323-24] _Nae_ means _no_. 

[323-25] _Ben_ means _into the room_. 

[323-26] That is, _the visit is not unwelcome_. 

[323-27] _Cracks_ is a Scotch word meaning _chats_. 

[323-28] _Kye_ are _cattle_. 

[323-29] _Blate_ means _modest_. 

[323-30] _Laithfu'_ is _bashful_. 

[323-31] _Sae_ is the Scotch form of _so_. 

[323-32] _The lave_ is _the others_: that is, the neighbors' girls. 

[324-33] The _halesome parritch_ is the _wholesome porridge_ of oatmeal. 

[324-34] _Sowpe_ here means a little quantity of milk. 

[324-35] _Hawkie_ is a _white-faced cow_. 

[324-36] That is, _beyond the partition_. 

[324-37] _Chows her cood_ means _chews her cud_. 

[324-38] _Weel-hain'd_ means _carefully preserved_. 

[324-39] _Kebbuck_ is _cheese_. 

[324-40] This line, in English, would read _And often he is urged_ (totake more) _and often he calls it good_. 

[324-41] A _towmond_ is a _twelvemonth_, a _year_. 

[324-42] _Since flax was in blossom_. 

[324-43] The _ha'-Bible_ is the family Bible, which is kept in the_hall_, or the best room. 

[324-44] _Ance_ is the Scotch form of _once_. 

[324-45] That is, his hat. 

[324-46] _Lyart_ means _gray_. 

[324-47] _Haffets_ means _temples_. 

[325-48] _Wales_ means _chooses_. 

CHARLES AND MARY LAMB

One of the most tragic, and at the same time one of the most heroic, oftrue stories is that of Charles and Mary Lamb, the brother and sisterwho are known to millions of young people as the writers of _Tales fromShakespeare_. 

Charles Lamb was rather a short man, with a spare body and legs so smalland thin that Thomas Hood once spoke of them as "immaterial legs. " Hishead, however, was large, and his brow fine; his nose, large and hooked, was in a face which early showed lines of care and trouble; his eyeswere large and expressive, twinkling with humor but full of piercinginquiry, and searching with keen interest everything about him; hismouth was large and firm, but around it there flitted a smile thatshowed the genial, humorous soul of the big-hearted boy. 

Lamb's habits were peculiar, there is no denying that, and his habits ofdress made him even more noticeable. Almost always he wore a black coat, knickerbockers and black gaiters. The old-fashioned cut of his clothesand their worn appearance showed the narrowness of his means, which, however, never caused him to neglect either clothing or person, for hewas remarkably neat in his ways. 

[Illustration: CHARLES LAMB 1775-1834]

Although a poor boy, he was educated in the famous old Christ'sHospital School in London, but when he was ready for college he foundhimself barred by his stammering, stuttering tongue. Giving up his hopeof further schooling, he was glad to take a small clerkship in agovernment office, where he remained for thirty-three years, a longperiod with little or no advancement. 

It was in 1792, when Charles was about seventeen years of age, that hewas given his clerkship, and for nearly four years he lived happily, supporting his parents and his sister in their humble home. Mary waseleven years older than Charles, a quiet gentle creature whom everybodyloved, though in some respects she was peculiar. There were things, too, that troubled the family and made them reserved and inclined to beoversensitive. Not only were they very poor, but there had been insanityon the mother's side, and Charles, himself, had at one time been inbrief confinement for irrational actions. Mary, too, had occasionallyshown signs of madness, but no one anticipated the dreadful event whichtook place in 1796. 

It came upon them like a stroke of lightning out of a clear sky. Allwere gathered together for their noon meal when Mary leaped to her feetand ran wildly about the room, shrieking in the terrifying tones of theinsane. She caught the forks and spoons from the table, threw them aboutthe room, and then, seizing a case knife, plunged it into the heart ofher mother. Although one of the flying forks had struck her aged fatherin the head and wounded him severely, Mary sprang upon him and wouldcertainly have killed the feeble old man then and there had not Charlescaught her and in a terrible struggle overpowered her and wrested theknife from her grasp. Friends and neighbors came in, and the poor womanwas taken to an asylum, where in a short time she recovered her reasonand learned of the awful consequences of her madness. In those dayshospitals for the insane were much more poorly managed than they are atpresent, and Charles could not be contented to think of his sisterconfined within their walls. Accordingly he went to the authorities, andafter much persuasion they released her, under the condition that sheshould be constantly under care. 

Then began the long career of brotherly devotion which can scarcely bematched, and which never fails to excite our sympathy and admiration. Wemay well think it a terrible penance, for Mary's attacks recurred againand again, and more than once Charles had to take her back to thehospital for a brief time while her violence remained too great for himto control. There were long lucid intervals, however, and after a whileboth learned to recognize the symptoms which preceded an attack, and thetwo would wend their way to the asylum, where she could take refuge. They carried a straight-jacket with them for use in case she shouldsuddenly become violent, for never could either escape from thenightmare of that first awful catastrophe. 

For forty years this companionship, this sublime devotion continued, even to the time of Charles Lamb's death in 1834. Both made manyfriends, and when the brother was laid away these friends came forwardand took up the burden of Mary's care until she, too, died, nearlythirteen years later. The last years of Lamb's life were full offurther trouble, that, combined with his crushing anxiety for Mary, broke his genial spirit and left him sad and melancholy. 

One of the greatest blows he suffered in his later life was the death ofhis life-long friend, Samuel Taylor Coleridge. See how fondly he wroteof this friend:

"Since I feel how great a part he was of me his great and dear spirithaunts me. I cannot think a thought, I cannot make a criticism on men orbooks without an ineffectual turning and reference to him. .. . He was myfifty-years-old friend without a dissension. I seem to love the house hedied at more passionately than when he lived. .. . What was his mansion isconsecrated to me a chapel. "

It is said that when his sister was first stricken Lamb was engaged tobe married to Ann Simmons, a sweet woman, whom he loved passionately. Soawful was the blow and so heavy the responsibility he assumed that thematch was broken off, and the gentle man resigned his hope of home andfamily. We shall see, however, that he never quite forgot his love. 

Sad as their life certainly was, there were many pleasant days for bothbrother and sister. Between her spells of violence Mary was a charmingcompanion, a helpful adviser and a writer of great ability, as loyal toher brother as he was to her. When Lamb was engaged to write the _Talesfrom Shakespeare_, she took up the pen with him and wrote the stories ofthe great poet's comedies while Charles wrote the tragedies. 

How strong his affection and respect for her really were we may see fromhis own words: "I am a fool bereft of her co-operation. I am used tolook up at her in the worst and biggest perplexities. To say all that Ifind her would be more than I think anybody could possibly understand. She is older, wiser, and better than I am, and all my wretchedimperfections I cover to myself by resolutely thinking on her goodness. She would share life and death with me. "

A more lovable character than Lamb's is hard to find. Full of fun he waswhen with his friends, punning, quibbling and joking in quaint andoriginal ways that made him welcome wherever he went. "The best acid isassiduity" was one of his favorite puns, and "_No_ work is worse than_over_-work" is one of his wise and witty remarks. 

The stuttering which in some persons might have seemed an annoyance onlyserved to add a certain spiciness to his good-natured quips. It is saidthat a certain gushing lady once went into a long description of herchildren and her own passionate love for them. Suddenly interruptingherself she said to Lamb, "And how do you like babies, Mr. Lamb?" With asober face, but unable to conceal the humorous twinkle in his sharpeyes, Charles replied, "Bub-bub-boiled, Madam!"

Lamb's friendship for Coleridge was fully returned, as we may see frommany things the latter wrote. At one time he said: "Lamb's character isa sacred one with me. No associations that he may form can hurt thepurity of his mind. .. . Nothing ever left a stain on that gentlecreature's mind. "

In 1825 Lamb's health became so poor that he was compelled to give uphis clerkship, and thereafter he lived most of his time at Edmonton. TheBritish government gave him an annual pension of £441, which sufficedfor the simple wants of himself and his sister. 

The immediate cause of his death was a slight accident that befell him afew months after the burial of Coleridge. Unconsciousness came before hehad been long ill and before any of his intimate friends could reachhim, yet it was their names that were last on his lips. They buried himin the churchyard at Edmonton, as he wished, where on his tombstone maybe read:

 "Farewell, dear friend--that smile, that harmless mirth, No more shall gladden our domestic hearth; That rising tear, with pain forbid to flow-- Better than words--no more assuage our woe. That hand outstretch'd from small but well-earned store Yield succor to the destitute no more. Yet art thou not all lost. Through many an age, With sterling sense and humour, shall thy page Win many an English bosom, pleased to see That old and happier vein revived in thee. This for our earth: and if with friends we share Our joys in heaven we hope to meet thee there. "

Besides the _Tales from Shakespeare_, Charles Lamb wrote many beautifulsketches which are known as the _Essays of Elia_. _Elia_ was the name ofone of the clerks in the South Sea House, where Lamb worked at one time. 

A reader can easily form some idea of a writer's character from hiswork, but Lamb was always so wholly himself, and he threw himself sofreely into his essays, that you can tell just what manner of man hewas as you read. A large part of the pleasure of reading him comes fromthis trait. We seem to be sitting with a charming friend whenever wehold one of his books, and to feel that the friend is pouring out hiswhole heart for our delight and inspiration. Naturally a person mustkeep alert when he is reading from Charles Lamb, for no one can predictwhat course the brilliant mind will take. When once a reader has learnedto understand his oddities, delicate sentiment, bright wit and lovingfaithfulness, every word becomes a living thing, and every reading a newdelight, a higher inspiration. In none of his essays is he seen togreater advantage than in _Dream Children_, which follows this briefsketch. The only people young or old who do not love this beautifulessay are those who have not read it or who have read it without reallyunderstanding it. You may need to read it once just to see what it isabout; again with the aid of the notes and comments we make upon it; athird time to let it cast its spell upon you. If you do that you willnot forget it, but will return to it often as years go on and the hardworld buffets you with those stern experiences which make you men andwomen. Every time you read it you will find new graces, more touchingsentiment. 

Will you read it now for the first time, paying only so much attentionto the footnotes as may be necessary for you to understand thelanguage?

DREAM CHILDREN: A REVERY

_By_ CHARLES LAMB

Children love to listen to stories about their elders when _they_ werechildren; to stretch their imagination to the conception of atraditionary great-uncle, or grandame, whom they never saw. 

It was in this spirit that my little ones crept about me the otherevening to hear about their great-grandmother Field, [335-1] who lived ina great house in Norfolk (a hundred times bigger than that in which theyand papa lived) which had been the scene--so at least it was generallybelieved in that part of the country--of the tragic incidents which theyhad lately become familiar with from the ballad of the Children in theWood. [335-2]

Certain it is that the whole story of the children and their cruel unclewas to be seen fairly carved out in wood upon the chimney-piece of thegreat hall, [335-3] the whole story down to the Robin Redbreast; till afoolish person pulled it down to set up a marble one of modern inventionin its stead, with no story upon it. 

Here Alice put out one of her dear mother's looks, too tender to becalled upbraiding. 

Then I went on to say, how religious and how good theirgreat-grandmother Field was, how beloved and respected by everybody, though she was not indeed the mistress of this great house, but had onlythe charge of it (and yet in some respects she might be said to be themistress of it too) committed to her by the owner, who preferred livingin a newer and more fashionable mansion which he had purchased somewherein the adjoining county; but still she lived in it in a manner as if ithad been her own, and kept up the dignity of the great house in a sortwhile she lived. Afterwards it came to decay, and was nearly pulleddown, and all its old ornaments stripped and carried away to the owner'sother house, where they were set up, and looked as awkward as if someonewere to carry away the old tombs they had lately seen at theAbbey, [336-4] and stick them up in Lady C. 's[336-5] tawdry giltdrawing-room. Here John smiled, as much as to say, "that would befoolish indeed. "

And then I told how, when she came to die, her funeral was attended by aconcourse of all the poor, and some of the gentry, too, of theneighborhood for many miles around, to show their respect for hermemory, because she had been such a good and religious woman; so goodindeed that she knew all the Psaltery[336-7] by heart, ay, and a greatpart of the Testament[336-8] besides. 

Here little Alice spread her hands. 

Then I told what a tall, upright, gracious person theirgreat-grandmother Field once was; and how in her youth she was esteemedthe best dancer, --here Alice's little right foot played an involuntarymovement, till, upon my looking grave, it desisted, --the best dancer, Iwas saying, in the country, till a cruel disease, called a cancer, came, and bowed her down with pain, but it could never bend her good spirits, or make them stoop, but they were still upright, because she was so goodand religious. 

Then I told how she used to sleep by herself in a lone chamber of thegreat lone house; and how she believed that an apparition of two infantswas to be seen at midnight gliding up and down the great staircase nearwhere she slept, but she said "those innocents would do her no harm;"and how frightened I used to be, though in those days I had my maid tosleep with me, because I was never half so good or religious asshe, --and yet I never saw the infants. 

Here John expanded all his eyebrows and tried to look courageous. 

Then I told how good she was to all her grandchildren, having us to thegreat house in the holidays, where I in particular used to spend manyhours by myself, in gazing upon the old busts of the twelve Caesars, that had been Emperors of Rome, till the old marble heads would seem tolive again, or I to be turned into marble with them; how I never couldbe tired with roaming about that huge mansion, with its vast emptyrooms, with their worn-out hangings, fluttering tapestry, and carvedoaken panels, with the gilding almost rubbed out, --sometimes in thespacious old-fashioned gardens, which I had almost to myself, unlesswhen now and then a solitary gardening man would cross me, --and how thenectarines and peaches hung upon the walls, [338-9] without my everoffering to pluck them, because they were forbidden fruit, unless nowand then, --and because I had more pleasure in strolling about among theold melancholy-looking yew-trees, [338-10] or the firs, and picking upthe red berries, and the fir apples, which were good for nothing but tolook at, --or in lying about upon the fresh grass with all the finegarden smells around me, --or basking in the orangery, [338-11] till Icould almost fancy myself ripening too along with the oranges and thelimes in that grateful warmth, --or in watching the dace[338-12] thatdarted to and fro in the fish-pond, at the bottom of the garden, withhere and there a great sulky pike hanging midway down the water insilent state, as if it mocked at their impertinent friskings, --I hadmore pleasure in these busy-idle diversions than in all the sweetflavors of peaches, nectarines, oranges, and such-like common baits ofchildren. 

Here John slyly deposited back upon the plate a bunch of grapes, which, not unobserved by Alice he had meditated dividing with her, and bothseemed willing to relinquish them for the present as irrelevant. 

[Illustration: ROAMING ABOUT THAT HUGE MANSION]

Then, in somewhat a more heightened tone, I told how, though theirgreat-grandmother Field loved all her grandchildren, yet in an especialmanner she might be said to love their uncle, John L----, [340-13]because he was so handsome and spirited a youth, and a king to the restof us; and, instead of moping about in solitary corners, like some ofus, he would mount the most mettlesome horse he could get, when but animp no bigger than themselves, and make it carry him half over thecounty in a morning, and join the hunters when there were any out, --andyet he loved the old great house and gardens too, but had too muchspirit to be always pent up within their boundaries;--and how theiruncle grew up to man's estate as brave as he was handsome, to theadmiration of everybody, but of their great-grandmother Field mostespecially; and how he used to carry me upon his back when I was alame-footed[340-14] boy--for he was a good bit older than I--many a milewhen I could not walk for pain; and how in after life he becamelame-footed too, and I did not always (I fear) make allowances enoughfor him when he was impatient and in pain, nor remember sufficiently howconsiderate he had been to me when I was lame-footed;--and how when hedied, [340-15] though he had not been dead an hour, it seemed as if hehad died a great while ago, such a distance there is betwixt life anddeath; and how I bore his death as I thought pretty well at first, butafterwards it haunted and haunted me; and though I did not cry or takeit to heart as some do, and as I think he would have done if I had died, yet I missed him all day long, and knew not till then how much I hadloved him. I missed his kindness, and I missed his crossness, and wishedhim to be alive again, to be quarreling with him (for we quarreledsometimes), rather than not to have him again, and was as uneasy withouthim, as he their poor uncle must have been when the doctor took off hislimb. 

[Illustration: HE WOULD MOUNT A METTLESOME HORSE]

Here the children fell a-crying, and asked if their little mourningwhich they had on was not for Uncle John, and they looked up, and prayedme not to go on about their uncle, but to tell them some stories abouttheir pretty dead mother. 

Then I told how, for seven long years, in hope sometimes, sometimes indespair, yet persisting ever, I courted the fair Alice W----n;[342-16]and, as much as children could understand, I explained to them whatcoyness, and difficulty, and denial meant in maidens. 

When suddenly turning to Alice, the soul of the first Alice looked outat her eyes with such a reality of representment, that I became in doubtwhich of them stood before me, or whose that bright hair was; and whileI stood gazing, both the children gradually grew fainter to my view, receding, and still receding, till nothing at last but two mournfulfeatures were seen in the uttermost distance, which, without speech, strangely impressed upon me the effects of speech:

"We are not of Alice, nor of thee, nor are we children at all. Thechildren of Alice call Bartram father. We are nothing; less thannothing, and dreams. We are only what might have been, and must waitupon the tedious shores of Lethe[342-17] millions of ages before we haveexistence, and a name. "

And immediately awaking, I found myself quietly seated in my bachelorarmchair, where I had fallen asleep, with the faithful Bridget[342-18]unchanged by my side, --but John L. (or James Elia) was gone forever. 

 You know Lamb's pathetic history, and you can see how _Dream Children_ came right out of his own sad heart, and how it teems with affectionate recollection. The children, too, --do they not seem like living beings? Can you believe that Alice and John never lived? Let us go back to the essay and see how little it is that he really says about them. Here it is:

 ALICE

 JOHN

 1. _Here Alice put out one of her dear mother's looks, too tender to be upbraiding. _

 She thought it very sad that any one should pull down the beautiful mantelpiece in the great hall, but she would not find fault with him--she was too gentle, too tender for that!

 1. _Here John smiled as much as to say, "that would be foolish indeed. "_

 John is quite the boy--wise enough to see how ridiculous it was to put a fine, rich old carved chimney among a lot of gilt gimcracks--and rather anxious to show his wisdom. 

 2. _Here little Alice spread her hands. _

 Don't you think she knew her Psaltery by heart, and a great part of the Testament besides? "Of course it is very _wonderful_ that grandma knew so much--but then, I know it too. "

 2. _Here John expanded all his eyebrows and tried to look courageous. _

 The tale of the ghostly infants has frightened John a little, but he does not like to admit any timidity there with his father and sister, so he straightens up, expands his eyebrows and looks very brave and manly. 

 3. _Here Alice's little right foot played an involuntary movement, till, upon my looking grave, it desisted. _

 The mere suggestion of a dance sets the little foot in motion, and you and I know that Alice is a lively girl who would be as proud of being the best dancer in the country as she was of knowing as much Scripture as her grandmother knew. But how quickly she stops when her father looks grave! We do not think that he objects to Alice dancing, but he knows that he is going to tell her the sad part of the story, and that the dancing accompaniment of Alice's little right foot would be very much out of place. 

 Later, Alice joined with John in wishing for the grapes, but she was equally willing to give them up when it seemed childish to take them. 

 3. _Here John slyly deposited back upon the plate a bunch of grapes which, not unobserved by Alice, he had meditated dividing with her; and both seemed willing to relinquish them for the present as irrelevant. _

 While the father has been telling of his glorious childhood among the rich fruit on the great estate, John has quietly picked up a bunch of grapes, and his quick-witted father, seeing the act, sneers a little at _such-like common baits of children_. John, wishing to be manly, puts the grapes back without a word, though evidently he will be glad enough to return to them at the proper time. 

 Not a selfish child at all was John, for he meditated dividing the grapes with Alice, and they would have been so sweet and cooling while the children stood there listening to the story. 

 4. _Here the children fell a-crying and asked if their little mourning which they had on was not for Uncle John, and they looked up and prayed me not to go on about their uncle, but to tell them some stories about their pretty dead mother. _

 How tender-hearted they both are, and yet until now they had hardly realized that it was for Uncle John that they were wearing their fresh mourning. This was a new grief too sad to them, but it turned their gentle sympathies to their pretty dead mother, of whom they were always glad to hear. The father has scarcely begun to speak when he sees in Alice so much resemblance to his dead wife that he almost thinks it is the mother who stands beside him. So violent is his emotion that he gradually comes out of his reverie, and as he does so the children fade away and recede into the distance, saying, "_We are nothing; less than nothing, and dreams. _"

 Is it not a wonderful thing that with so few words a writer can put his heart so much into yours that you believe almost as much as he does in the reality of the vision?

 In the sketch of Lamb we said that his character was very strongly reflected in his writings, and this essay shows the fact wonderfully well. Imagine the man, lonely, heartbroken, weary from the awful task he had set himself, sitting in his bachelor armchair by the fire, dreaming his evening away. Who are the people that come to him in his dreams and what are the incidents? First his grandmother Field, with whom he had spent a great deal of his childhood; then his sweetheart Alice, now married to another, with children of her own; then his brother, by no means a pleasing character, but a lazy and selfish man who, however, in the rich, loving heart of his brother stands out as handsome, affectionate, noble and brave. How keenly he feels the bitter loss which comes to him with tenfold severity when he awakens, and which he makes the closing thought in the essay! Lastly, the faithful Mary, unchanged, appears at his side, --his waking companion, his greatest burden and his greatest joy. 

 Besides these evidences of his devoted and affectionate disposition, we find proof of his vivid imagination when as a child he gazes _upon the old busts of the twelve Cæsars that had been emperors of Rome, till the old marble heads would seem to live again, or I to be turned into marble with them_. In his _busy-idle_ amusements at the great house he shows the innocence and simplicity of his pleasures, and in the delicate way in which he reproves Alice and John, his genial, sympathetic disposition as well as his abundant good humor. How much finer it was to say, "_and such-like common baits of children_" than to have said, "John, put the grapes back on the plate. "

FOOTNOTES:

[335-1] Lamb's grandmother, Mary Field, was for a long time housekeeperin one of the great English country houses, but not in the countyalluded to in the text. 

[335-2] This means that the incidents had but lately become familiar tothe children. The story is the old one of the _Babes in the Wood_, as itis sometimes called. 

[335-3] One of Lamb's fancies; the chimney-carving in the real houserepresented stag and boar hunts. 

[336-4] Westminster Abbey. 

[336-5] An imaginary person with a cheap, showy drawing-room. 

[336-7] The Book of Psalms, or such a portion of it as is used in theservices of the English Church. 

[336-8] New Testament. 

[338-9] The trees were planted on the south side of the walls, whichprotected them from the north wind and ripened them by reflected warmth. 

[338-10] The foliage of the yews is very dark, and because these treesare so often planted about cemeteries they give a hint of sadness toevery one. 

[338-11] The glass house which protected the trees in the winter andhastened the ripening of the fruit in summer. 

[338-12] A small fish resembling our chub--usually seen in schools instill waters. 

[340-13] Lamb's brother John--twelve years his senior. John was rather alazy, selfish fellow--at least he never gave up his own pleasures andcomforts to assist his family, even in their greatest need. 

[340-14] This probably alludes to some temporary affliction, for CharlesLamb was not lame. 

[340-15] John Lamb died just before this essay was written. 

[342-16] It is not known positively whether Alice Warren was a real oran imaginary character. 

[342-17] _Lethe_ was among the ancient Greeks the name given to theriver of oblivion, of whose waters spirits drank to gain forgetfulness. 

[342-18] Bridget Elia is his sister, Mary Lamb. 

READING SHAKESPEARE

The greatest author the world has known is William Shakespeare, and hiswritings will afford more pleasure, instruction and information thanthose of any other author. They may be read again and again, for socharged are they with living knowledge and so full of literary charm, that no one can exhaust them in a single reading. Not every reader ofShakespeare loves him, but that is because not every reader appreciateshim. He wrote in the English of his times, and used many words andexpressions that have since dropped out of the language, changed theirmeaning, or become unfamiliar in common speech. Then again, hisknowledge of life is so profound and his insight into human nature sokeen and penetrating, that the casual reader is liable not to follow histhought. In other words, Shakespeare must be studied to be appreciated;but if he is studied and appreciated, he gives a pleasure and exerts aninfluence that cannot be equaled. 

[Illustration: WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 1564-1616]

Young people are liable to think that study is laborious anduninteresting, a nuisance and a bore. Nothing of that sort is true ofthe study of Shakespeare, because for every effort there is a presentreward, there is no waiting to see results. Of course there are rightways and wrong ways to study, just as there are right ways and wrongways of doing anything. Sometimes teachers fail entirely to interesttheir classes in Shakespeare, and parents say they cannot make theirchildren like Shakespeare. None of this is the fault of the poet or ofthe children; the fault lies in the methods used to create an interest. If a person begins properly and proceeds as he should, there will neverbe a lack of interest. Teachers are not needed, and parents may leavetheir children to learn to be happy in reading by themselves, if thebooks are prepared properly for them. 

In the first place, one of the wonders of Shakespeare is the greatvariety of his plays. In fact, they cover the whole range of humanactivities, and introduce characters from almost every walk in life. Thestories they tell run from the light and gay to those of more somberhue, from comedy to deepest tragedy. Wit and humor, pathos and sublimitymay sometimes be found in the same play, and smiles and tears may bedrawn from the same page. What play to select for a beginner becomesthen a question of some moment. _The Tempest_ is one of the best, for itis not difficult to read, is an interesting story, has amusingcharacters, and carries good food for thought. 

Will you then, our young readers, go hand in hand with us into thereading of Shakespeare? Do as we say this one time, and read as we askyou to, even if it does take some time from your play. If, while you aredoing it, you do not enjoy yourselves, or if at the end you do not feelrepaid, then take your own course in your reading thereafter. It will bea better course for having studied one great play carefully. 

However, before we begin the play, let us read the charming tale writtenby Charles and Mary Lamb. It will give us briefly the story of _TheTempest_, though a wealth of incidents is omitted. 

THE TEMPEST

A TALE FROM SHAKESPEARE BY CHARLES AND MARY LAMB

There was a certain island in the sea, the only inhabitants of whichwere an old man, whose name was Prospero, and his daughter Miranda, avery beautiful young lady. She came to this island so young, that shehad no memory of having seen any other human face than her father's. They lived in a cave or cell, made out of a rock; it was divided intoseveral apartments, one of which Prospero called his study; there hekept his books, which chiefly treated of magic, a study at that timemuch affected by all learned men; and the knowledge of this art he foundvery useful to him; for being thrown by a strange chance upon thisisland, which had been enchanted by a witch called Sycorax, who diedthere a short time before his arrival, Prospero, by virtue of his art, released many good spirits that Sycorax had imprisoned in the bodies oflarge trees, because they had refused to execute her wicked commands. These gentle spirits were ever after obedient to the will of Prospero. Of these, Ariel was the chief. 

The lively little sprite Ariel had nothing mischievous in his nature, except that he took rather too much pleasure in tormenting an uglymonster called Caliban, for he owed him a grudge because he was the sonof his old enemy Sycorax. This Caliban, Prospero found in the woods, astrange misshapen thing, far less human in form than an ape: he took himhome to his cell, and taught him to speak; and Prospero would have beenvery kind to him, but the bad nature which Caliban inherited from hismother Sycorax, would not let him learn anything good or useful:therefore he was employed like a slave, to fetch wood, and do the mostlaborious offices; and Ariel had the charge of compelling him to theseservices. 

When Caliban was lazy and neglected his work, Ariel (who was invisibleto all eyes but Prospero's) would come slily and pinch him, andsometimes tumble him down in the mire; and then Ariel, in the likenessof an ape, would make mouths at him. Then swiftly changing his shape, inthe likeness of a hedgehog, he would lie tumbling in Caliban's way, whofeared the hedgehog's sharp quills would prick his bare feet. With avariety of such-like vexatious tricks Ariel would often torment himwhenever Caliban neglected the work which Prospero commanded him to do. 

Having these powerful spirits obedient to his will, Prospero could bytheir means command the winds, and the waves of the sea. By his ordersthey raised a violent storm, in the midst of which, and struggling withthe wild sea-waves that every moment threatened to swallow it up, heshowed his daughter a fine large ship, which he told her was full ofliving beings like themselves. "O my dear father, " said she, "if by yourart you have raised this dreadful storm, have pity on their saddistress. See! the vessel will be dashed to pieces. Poor souls! theywill all perish. If I had power, I would sink the sea beneath the earth, rather than the good ship should be destroyed, with all the precioussouls within her. "

"Be not so amazed, daughter Miranda, " said Prospero; "there is no harmdone. I have so ordered it, that no person in the ship shall receive anyhurt. What I have done has been in care of you, my dear child. You areignorant who you are, or where you came from, and you know no more ofme, but that I am your father, and live in this poor cave. Can youremember a time before you came to this cell? I think you cannot, foryou were not then three years of age. "

"Certainly I can, sir, " replied Miranda. 

"By what?" asked Prospero; "by any other house or person? Tell me whatyou can remember, my child. "

Miranda said, "It seems to me like the recollection of a dream. But hadI not once four or five women who attended upon me?"

Prospero answered, "You had, and more. How is it that this still livesin your mind? Do you remember how you came here?"

"No, sir, " said Miranda, "I remember nothing more. "

"Twelve years ago, Miranda, " continued Prospero, "I was duke of Milan, and you were a princess, and my only heir. I had a younger brother, whose name was Antonio, to whom I trusted everything; and as I was fondof retirement and deep study, I commonly left the management of mystate affairs to your uncle, my false brother (for so indeed heproved). I, neglecting all worldly ends, buried among my books, diddedicate my whole time to the bettering of my mind. My brother Antonio, being thus in possession of my power, began to think himself the dukeindeed. The opportunity I gave him of making himself popular among mysubjects awakened in his bad nature a proud ambition to deprive me of mydukedom; this he soon effected with the aid of the king of Naples, apowerful prince, who was my enemy. "

"Wherefore, " said Miranda, "did they not that hour destroy us?"

"My child, " answered her father, "they durst not, so dear was the lovethat my people bore me. Antonio carried us on board a ship, and when wewere some leagues out at sea, he forced us into a small boat, withouteither tackle, sail, or mast: there he left us, as he thought, toperish. But a kind lord of my court, one Gonzalo, who loved me, hadprivately placed in the boat water, provisions, apparel, and some bookswhich I prize above my dukedom. "

"O my father, " said Miranda, "what a trouble must I have been to youthen!"

"No, my love, " said Prospero, "you were a little cherub that didpreserve me. Your innocent smiles made me to bear up against mymisfortunes. Our food lasted till we landed on this island, since whenmy chief delight has been in teaching you, and well have you profited bymy instructions. "

"Heaven thank you, my dear father, " said Miranda. "Now pray tell me, sir, your reason for raising this sea-storm?"

"Know then, " said her father, "that by means of this storm, my enemies, the king of Naples, and my cruel brother, are cast ashore upon thisisland. "

Having so said, Prospero gently touched his daughter with his magicwand, and she fell fast asleep; for the spirit Ariel just then presentedhimself before his master, to give an account of the tempest, and how hehad disposed of the ship's company, and though the spirits were alwaysinvisible to Miranda, Prospero did not choose she should hear himholding converse (as would seem to her) with the empty air. 

"Well, my brave spirit, " said Prospero to Ariel, "how have you performedyour task?"

Ariel gave a lively description of the storm, and of the terrors of themariners; and how the king's son, Ferdinand, was the first who leapedinto the sea; and his father thought he saw his dear son swallowed up bythe waves and lost. "But he is safe, " said Ariel, "in a corner of theisle, sitting with his arms folded, sadly lamenting the loss of theking, his father, whom he concludes drowned. Not a hair of his head isinjured, and his princely garments, though drenched in the sea-waves, look fresher than before. "

"That's my delicate Ariel, " said Prospero. "Bring him hither: mydaughter must see this prince. Where is the king, and my brother?"

"I left them, " answered Ariel, "searching for Ferdinand, whom they havelittle hopes of finding, thinking they saw him perish. Of the ship'screw not one is missing; though each one thinks himself the only onesaved: and the ship, though invisible to them, is safe in the harbor. "

[Illustration: FERDINAND LEAPED]

"Ariel, " said Prospero, "thy charge is faithfully performed; but thereis more work yet. "

"Is there more work?" said Ariel. "Let me remind you, master, you havepromised me my liberty. I pray, remember, I have done you worthyservice, told you no lies, made no mistakes, served you without grudgeor grumbling. "

"How now!" said Prospero. "You do not recollect what a torment I freedyou from. Have you forgot the wicked witch Sycorax, who with age andenvy was almost bent double? Where was she born? Speak; tell me. "

"Sir, in Algiers, " said Ariel. 

"O was she so?" said Prospero. "I must recount what you have been, which I find you do not remember. This bad witch, Sycorax, for herwitch-crafts, too terrible to enter human hearing, was banished fromAlgiers, and here left by the sailors; and because you were a spirit toodelicate to execute her wicked commands, she shut you up in a tree, where I found you howling. This torment, remember, I did free you from. "

"Pardon me, dear master, " said Ariel, ashamed to seem ungrateful; "Iwill obey your commands. "

"Do so, " said Prospero, "and I will set you free. " He then gave orderswhat further he would have him do; and away went Ariel, first to wherehe had left Ferdinand, and found him still sitting on the grass in thesame melancholy posture. 

"O my young gentleman, " said Ariel, when he saw him, "I will soon moveyou. You must be brought, I find, for the Lady Miranda to have a sightof your pretty person. Come, sir, follow me. " He then began singing, "Full fathom five thy father lies: Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Hark! now I hear them, --Ding-dong, bell. "

This strange news of his lost father soon roused the prince from thestupid fit into which he had fallen. He followed in amazement the soundof Ariel's voice, till it led him to Prospero and Miranda, who weresitting under the shade of a large tree. Now Miranda had never seen aman before, except her own father. 

"Miranda, " said Prospero, "tell me what you are looking at yonder. "

"O father, " said Miranda, in a strange surprise, "surely that is aspirit. Lord! how it looks about! Believe me, sir, it is a beautifulcreature. Is it not a spirit?"

"No, girl, " answered her father: "it eats and sleeps, and has sensessuch as we have. This young man you see was in the ship. He is somewhataltered by grief, or you might call him a handsome person. He has losthis companions, and is wandering about to find them. "

Miranda, who thought all men had grave faces and gray beards like herfather, was delighted with the appearance of this beautiful youngprince; and Ferdinand, seeing such a lovely maiden in this desert place, and from the strange sounds he had heard, expecting nothing but wonders, thought he was upon an enchanted island, and that Miranda was thegoddess of the place, and as such he began to address her. 

She timidly answered, she was no goddess, but a simple maid, and wasgoing to give him an account of herself, when Prospero interrupted her. He was well pleased to find they admired each other, for he plainlyperceived they had (as we say) fallen in love at first sight: but to tryFerdinand's constancy, he resolved to throw some difficulties in theirway: therefore advancing forward, he addressed the prince with a sternair, telling him, he came to the island as a spy, to take it from himwho was the lord of it. "Follow me, " said he, "I will tie you neck andfeet together. You shall drink sea-water; shell-fish, withered roots, and husks of acorns shall be your food. " "No, " said Ferdinand, "I willresist such entertainment, till I see a more powerful enemy, " and drewhis sword; but Prospero, waving his magic wand, fixed him to the spotwhere he stood so that he had no power to move. 

Miranda hung upon her father, saying, "Why are you so ungentle? Havepity, sir; I will be his surety. This is the second man I ever saw, andto me he seems a true one. "

"Silence, " said the father; "one word more will make me chide you, girl!What an advocate for an impostor! You think there are no more such finemen, having seen only him and Caliban. I tell you, foolish girl, mostmen as far excel this, as he does Caliban. " This he said to prove hisdaughter's constancy; and she replied, "My affections are most humble. Ihave no wish to see a goodlier man. "

"Come on, young man, " said Prospero to the prince; "you have no power todisobey me. "

"I have not indeed, " answered Ferdinand; and not knowing that it was bymagic he was deprived of all power of resistance, he was astonished tofind himself so strangely compelled to follow Prospero: looking back onMiranda as long as he could see her, he said, as he went after Prosperointo the cave, "My spirits are all bound up, as if I were in a dream;but this man's threats, and the weakness which I feel, would seem lightto me if from my prison I might once a day behold this fair maid. "

Prospero kept Ferdinand not long confined within the cell: he soonbrought out his prisoner, and set him a severe task to perform, takingcare to let his daughter know the hard labor he had imposed on him, andthen pretending to go into his study, he secretly watched them both. 

Prospero had commanded Ferdinand to pile up some heavy logs of wood. King's sons not being much used to laborious work, Miranda soon afterfound her lover almost dying with fatigue. "Alas!" said she, "do notwork so hard; my father is at his studies, he is safe for these threehours; pray rest yourself. "

"O my dear lady, " said Ferdinand, "I dare not. I must finish my taskbefore I take my rest. "

"If you will sit down, " said Miranda, "I will carry your logs thewhile. " But this Ferdinand would by no means agree to. Instead of a helpMiranda became a hindrance, for they began a long conversation, so thatthe business of log-carrying went on very slowly. 

Prospero, who had enjoined Ferdinand this task merely as a trial of hislove, was not at his books, as his daughter supposed, but was standingby them invisible, to overhear what they said. 

Ferdinand inquired her name, which she told, saying it was against herfather's express command she did so. Prospero only smiled at this firstinstance of his daughter's disobedience, for having by his magic artcaused his daughter to fall in love so suddenly, he was not angry thatshe showed her love by forgetting to obey his commands. And he listenedwell pleased to a long speech of Ferdinand's, in which he professed tolove her above all the ladies he ever saw. 

In answer to his praises of her beauty, which he said exceeded all thewomen in the world, she replied, "I do not remember the face of anywoman, nor have I seen any more men than you, my good friend, and mydear father. How features are abroad, I know not; but, believe me, sir, I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor can myimagination form any shape but yours that I could like. But, sir, I fearI talk to you too freely, and my father's precepts I forget. "

At this Prospero smiled, and nodded his head, as much as to say, "Thisgoes on exactly as I could wish; my girl will be queen of Naples. "

And then Ferdinand, in another fine long speech (for young princes speakin courtly phrases), told the innocent Miranda he was heir to the crownof Naples, and that she should be his queen. 

"Ah! sir, " said she, "I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of. I willanswer you in plain and holy innocence. I am your wife if you will marryme. "

Prospero prevented Ferdinand's thanks by appearing visible before them. 

"Fear nothing, my child, " said he; "I have overheard and approve of allyou have said. And, Ferdinand, if I have too severely used you, I willmake you rich amends, by giving you my daughter. All your vexations werebut trials of your love, and you have nobly stood the test. Then as mygift, which your true love has worthily purchased, take my daughter, anddo not smile that I boast she is above all praise. " He then, tellingthem that he had business which required his presence, desired theywould sit down and talk together till he returned; and this commandMiranda seemed not at all disposed to disobey. 

When Prospero left them, he called his spirit Ariel, who quicklyappeared before him, eager to relate what he had done with Prospero'sbrother and the king of Naples. Ariel said he had left them almost outof their senses with fear, at the strange things he had caused them tosee and hear. When fatigued with wandering about, and famished for wantof food, he had suddenly set before them a delicious banquet, and then, just as they were going to eat, he appeared visible before them in theshape of a harpy, a voracious monster with wings, and the feast vanishedaway. Then, to their utter amazement, this seeming harpy spoke to them, reminding them of their cruelty in driving Prospero from his dukedom, and leaving him and his infant daughter to perish in the sea; saying, that for this cause these terrors were suffered to afflict them. 

The king of Naples, and Antonio, the false brother, repented theinjustice they had done to Prospero; and Ariel told his master he wascertain their penitence was sincere, and that he, though a spirit, couldnot but pity them. 

"Then bring them hither, Ariel, " said Prospero: "if you, who are but aspirit, feel for their distress, shall not I, who am a human being likethemselves, have compassion on them? Bring them quickly, my daintyAriel. "

Ariel soon returned with the king, Antonio, and old Gonzalo in theirtrain, who had followed him wondering at the wild music he played in theair to draw them on to his master's presence. This Gonzalo was the samewho had so kindly provided Prospero formerly with books and provisions, when his wicked brother left him, as he thought, to perish in an openboat in the sea. 

Grief and terror had so stupefied their senses, that they did not knowProspero. He first discovered himself to the good old Gonzalo, callinghim the preserver of his life; and then his brother and the king knewthat he was the injured Prospero. 

Antonio with tears, and sad words of sorrow and true repentance, implored his brother's forgiveness, and the king expressed his sincereremorse for having assisted Antonio to depose his brother: and Prosperoforgave them; and, upon their engaging to restore his dukedom, he saidto the king of Naples, "I have a gift in store for you too;" and openinga door, showed him his son Ferdinand playing at chess with Miranda. 

Nothing could exceed the joy of the father and the son at thisunexpected meeting, for they each thought the other drowned in thestorm. 

"O wonder!" said Miranda, "what noble creatures these are! It mustsurely be a brave world that has such people in it. "

The king of Naples was almost as much astonished at the beauty andexcellent graces of the young Miranda as his son had been. 

"Who is this maid?" said he; "she seems the goddess that has parted us, and brought us thus together. "

"No, sir, " answered Ferdinand, smiling to find his father had falleninto the same mistake that he had done when he first saw Miranda, "sheis a mortal, but by immortal Providence she is mine; I chose her when Icould not ask you, my father, for your consent, not thinking you werealive. She is the daughter to this Prospero, who is the famous duke ofMilan, of whose renown I have heard so much, but never saw him till now:of him I have received a new life: he has made himself to me a secondfather, giving me this dear lady. "

"Then I must be her father, " said the king; "but oh! how oddly will itsound, that I must ask my child forgiveness. "

"No more of that, " said Prospero: "let us not remember our troublespast, since they so happily have ended. "

And then Prospero embraced his brother, and again assured him of hisforgiveness; and said that a wise overruling Providence had permittedthat he should be driven from his poor dukedom of Milan, that hisdaughter might inherit the crown of Naples, for that by their meeting inthis desert island, it had happened that the king's son had lovedMiranda. 

These kind words which Prospero spoke, meaning to comfort his brother, so filled Antonio with shame and remorse, that he wept and was unable tospeak; and the kind old Gonzalo wept to see this joyful reconciliation, and prayed for blessings on the young couple. 

Prospero now told them that their ship was safe in the harbor, and thesailors on board her, and that he and his daughter would accompany themhome the next morning. "In the meantime, " said he, "partake of suchrefreshments as my poor cave affords; and for your evening'sentertainment I will relate the history of my life from my first landingin this desert island. " He then called for Caliban to prepare some food, and set the cave in order; and the company were astonished at theuncouth form and savage appearance of this ugly monster, who (Prosperosaid) was the only attendant he had to wait upon him. 

Before Prospero left the island, he dismissed Ariel from his service, tothe great joy of that lively little spirit; who, though he had been afaithful servant to his master, was always longing to enjoy his freeliberty, to wander uncontrolled in the air, like a wild bird, undergreen trees, among pleasant fruits, and sweet-smelling flowers. "Myquaint Ariel, " said Prospero to the little sprite when he made him free, "I shall miss you; yet you shall have your freedom. " "Thank you, my dearmaster, " said Ariel; "but give me leave to attend your ship home withprosperous gales, before you bid farewell to the assistance of yourfaithful spirit; and then, master, when I am free, how merrily I shalllive!" Here Ariel sang this pretty song:

 "Where the bee sucks there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie: There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. "

Prospero then buried deep in the earth his magical books and wand, forhe was resolved never more to make use of the magic art. And having thusovercome his enemies, and being reconciled to his brother and the kingof Naples, nothing now remained to complete his happiness, but torevisit his native land, to take possession of his dukedom, and towitness the happy nuptials of his daughter and Prince Ferdinand, whichthe king said should be instantly celebrated with great splendor ontheir return to Naples. At which place, under the safe convoy of thespirit Ariel, they, after a pleasant voyage, soon arrived. 

[Illustration]

THE TEMPEST

_By_ WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Having read Lamb's version of the story, we are ready for the play asShakespeare wrote it. To begin with, we will read it through frombeginning to end with as little hesitation and delay as possible. Weshall not expect to understand it all, and will pass over the moredifficult passages without attempting to master them. If at times we areunable to go on intelligently, we will look at the notes at the bottomof the pages and get the help we need. This reading, however, isintended merely to give us a general idea of the play. We are spying outthe land as a general might do it, trying to see what kind of a countrywe are invading, and to locate the places where we are liable to meetwith resistance. We will stop a moment now and then to shudder atCaliban, to admire Prospero, to love the sweet Miranda or to laugh atthe nonsense of the jester and the drunken butler, but we will hasten onto the end nevertheless, knowing that we will become better acquaintedwith the people at another time. 

Having finished the play, we will return to the beginning for a second, a slower, more careful reading. Now many things that at first seemedobscure will have cleared themselves by our greater knowledge of theplay. This time, however, we must read every sentence carefully and tryto understand the meaning of all. The footnotes should all be read, because it often happens that when we think we understand what asentence signifies, we give the wrong meaning to a word or phrase, andhence change the whole sense. 

When this second reading has been completed, we will have a goodunderstanding of the play, a more intimate acquaintance with thecharacters, and be ready for the more interesting studies which followthe play. 

THE PERSONS

 ALONSO, King of Naples. 

 SEBASTIAN, his Brother. 

 PROSPERO, the rightful Duke of Milan. 

 ANTONIO, his Brother, the usurping Duke of Milan. 

 FERDINAND, Son to the King of Naples. 

 GONZALO, an honest old Counsellor of Naples. 

 ADRIAN, } FRANCISCO, } Lords. 

 CALIBAN, a savage and deformed Slave. 

 TRINCULO, a Jester. 

 STEPHANO, a drunken Butler. 

 Master of a Ship, Boatswain, and Mariners. 

 MIRANDA, Daughter to Prospero. 

 ARIEL, an airy Spirit. 

 Other Spirits attending on Prospero. 

 IRIS, } CERES, } JUNO, } presented by Nymphs, } Spirits. Reapers, }

SCENE, _ a Ship at Sea; afterwards an uninhabited Island. _

ACT I

SCENE I. --_On a Ship at sea. A Storm, with Thunder and Lightning. _

_Enter _Master_ and _Boatswain_ severally. _

_MASTER speaks. _

Boatswain!

_Boats. _ Here, master: what cheer?

_Mast. _ Good, [366-1] speak to the mariners: fall to't yarely, [366-2] orwe run ourselves a-ground: bestir, bestir. [_Exit. _

_Enter_ Mariners. 

_Boats. _ Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare!Take in the top-sail. Tend to the master's whistle. [_Exeunt_Mariners. ]--Blow till thou burst thy wind, [366-3] if room enough![366-4]

_Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and Others. _

_Alon. _ Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? Play themen. [366-5]

_Boats. _ I pray now, keep below. 

_Anto. _ Where is the master, boatswain?

_Boats. _ Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your cabins; youdo assist the storm. 

_Gonza. _ Nay, good, be patient. 

_Boats. _ When the sea is. Hence! What care these roarers for the name ofking? To cabin: silence! trouble us not. 

_Gonza. _ Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. 

_Boats. _ None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor: if youcan command these elements to silence, and work the peace of thepresent, [367-6] we will not hand a rope more; use your authority: if youcannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready inyour cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. [367-7]--Cheerly, good hearts!--Out of our way, I say. [_Exit. _

_Gonza. _ I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath nodrowning-mark upon him; his complexion[367-8] is perfect gallows. --Standfast, good Fate, to his hanging! make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage! If he be not born to be hang'd, ourcase is miserable. [_Exeunt. _

_Re-enter_ Boatswain. 

_Boats. _ Down with the top-mast! yare; lower, lower! Bring her to trywi' th' main-course. [367-9] [_A cry within. _] A plague upon thishowling! they are louder than the weather or our office, [367-10]--

_Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO. _

Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er, and drown? Have you amind to sink?

_Sebas. _ A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitabledog!

_Boats. _ Work you, then. 

_Anto. _ Hang, cur, hang! you insolent noisemaker, we are less afraid tobe drown'd than thou art. 

_Gonza. _ I'll warrant him for drowning, [368-11] though the ship were nostronger than a nut-shell. 

_Boats. _ Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses![368-12] off to seaagain: lay her off!

_Re-enter _Mariners, _ wet. _

_Mariners. _ All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! [_Exeunt. _

_Boats. _ What, must our mouths be cold?

_Gonza. _ The King and Prince at prayers! let us assist them, For our case is as theirs. 

_Sebas. _ I'm out of patience. 

_Anto. _ We're merely[368-13] cheated out of our lives by drunkards. This wide-chopp'd rascal--would thou mightst lie drowning, The washing of ten tides!

_Gonza. _ He'll be hang'd yet, Though every drop of water swear against it, And gape at widest to glut[368-14] him. 

(_A confused noise within. _) Mercy on us! We split, we split!--Farewell, my wife and children!--Farewell, brother!--We split, we split, we split! [_Exit_ Boatswain. 

_Anto. _ Let's all sink wi' th' King. [_Exit. _

_Sebas. _ Let's take leave of him. [_Exit. _

_Gonza. _ Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre ofbarren ground; ling, heath, broom, furze, [369-15] anything. Thewills[369-16] above be done! but I would fain die a dry death. [_Exit. _

SCENE II. --_The Island: before the Cell of PROSPERO. _

_Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA. _

_Mira. _ If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek, [369-1] Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer'd With those that I saw suffer! a brave[369-2] vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her, Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perish'd! Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er[369-3] It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and The fraughting[370-4] souls within her. 

_Pros. _ Be collected; No more amazement:[370-5] tell your piteous heart There's no harm done. 

_Mira. _ O, woe the day!

_Pros. _ No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee, -- Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, --who Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing Of whence I am; nor that I am more better[370-6] Than Prospero, master of a full-poor cell, And thy no greater father. 

_Mira. _ More to know Did never meddle[370-7] with my thoughts. 

_Pros. _ 'Tis time I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me. --So: [_Lays down his robe. _ Lie there, my art. [370-8]--Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such prevision in mine art So safely order'd, that there is no soul[370-9]-- No, not so much perdition as an hair Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down; For thou must now know further. 

[Illustration: TELL YOUR PITEOUS HEART]

_Mira. _ You have often Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd And left me to a bootless inquisition, [372-10] Concluding, _Stay, not yet_. 

_Pros. _ The hour's now come; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear: Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time before we came unto this cell? I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast not Out[372-11] three years old. 

_Mira. _ Certainly, sir, I can. 

_Pros. _ By what? by any other house or person? Of any thing the image tell me that Hath kept with thy remembrance. 

_Mira. _ 'Tis far off, And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants. Had I not Four or five women once that tended me?

_Pros. _ Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it That this lives in thy mind? What see'st thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here, How thou camest here, thou mayst. [372-12]

_Mira. _ But that I do not. 

_Pros. _ Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and A prince of power. 

_Mira. _ Sir, are you not my father?

_Pros. _ Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Milan; thou his only heir, A princess--no worse issued. 

_Mira. _ O the Heavens! What foul play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessèd was't we did?

_Pros. _ Both, both, my girl: By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence; But blessedly holp[373-13] hither. 

_Mira. _ O, my heart bleeds To think o' the teen[373-14] that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you, further. [373-15]

_Pros. _ My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Antonio, -- I pray thee, mark me;--that a brother should Be so perfidious!--he whom, next thyself, Of all the world I loved, and to him put The manage[373-16] of my State; as, at that time, Through all the signiories[373-17] it was the first, And Prospero the prime[373-18] Duke; being so reputed In dignity, and for the liberal arts Without a parallel: those being all my study, The government I cast upon my brother, And to my State grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle, -- Dost thou attend me?

_Mira. _ Sir, most heedfully. 

_Pros. _--Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them; who[374-19] t' advance, and who To trash[374-20] for over-topping[374-21]--new-created The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em, Or else new-form'd 'em; having both the key[374-22] Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the State To what tune pleased his ear; that[374-23] now he was The ivy which had hid my princely trunk, And suck'd the verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not. 

_Mira. _ O good sir, I do. 

_Pros. _ I pray thee, mark me. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness, [374-24] and the bettering of my mind With that which, but[374-25] by being so retired, O'er-prized all popular rate, [374-26] in my false brother Awaked an evil nature; and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood, in its contrary as great As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, A confidence sans[375-27] bound. He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded, But what my power might else exact, --like one Who having unto truth, by falsing of it, [375-28] Made such a sinner of his memory To[375-29] credit his own lie, --he did believe He was indeed the Duke; out o' the substitution, [375-30] And executing the outward face of royalty, With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing, -- Dost thou hear?[375-31]

_Mira. _ Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. 

_Pros. _ To have no screen between this part he play'd And them he play'd it for, he needs will be Absolute Milan. [375-32] Me, [375-33] poor man, my library Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable; confederates-- So dry he was for sway[376-34]--wi' th' King of Naples To give him annual tribute, do him homage, Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend The dukedom, yet unbow'd, --alas, poor Milan![376-35]-- To most ignoble stooping. [376-36]

_Mira. _ O the Heavens!

_Pros. _ This King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Which was, that he, in lieu[376-37] o' the premises, -- Of homage, and I know not how much tribute, -- Should presently[376-38] extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan, With all the honours, on my brother: whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to th' practice[376-39] did Antonio open The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness, The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self. [376-40]

_Mira. _ Alack, for pity! I, not remembering how I cried on't then, Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint[377-41] That wrings mine eyes to't. 

_Pros. _ Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon's;[377-42] without the which this story Were most impertinent. [377-43]

_Mira. _ Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us?

_Pros. _ Well demanded, wench:[377-44] My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not-- So dear the love my people bore me--set A mark so bloody on the business; but With colours fairer painted their foul ends. In few, [377-45] they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist[377-46] us, To cry to th' sea that roar'd to us; to sigh To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again, Did us but loving wrong. 

_Mira. _ Alack, what trouble Was I then to you!

_Pros. _ O, a cherubim Thou wast that did preserve me! Thou didst smile, Infusèd with a fortitude from Heaven, When I have degg'd[378-47] the sea with drops full salt, Under my burden groan'd; which raised in me An undergoing stomach, [378-48] to bear up Against what should ensue. 

_Mira. _ How came we ashore?

_Pros. _ By Providence divine. Some food we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity, --being then appointed Master of this design, --did give us; with Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, Which since have steaded[378-49] much; so, of his gentleness, Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me, From mine own library, with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. 

_Mira. _ Would I might But ever see that man!

_Pros. _ Now I arise:[378-50] Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arrived; and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit[378-51] Than other princesses can, that have more time For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. 

_Mira. _ Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir, -- For still 'tis beating in my mind, --your reason For raising this sea-storm?

_Pros. _ Know thus far forth: By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune-- Now my dear lady--hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience I find my zenith[379-52] doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. [379-53] Here cease more questions: Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness, And give it way: I know thou canst not choose. [379-54] [_MIRANDA sleeps. _ Come away, servant, come! I'm ready now: Approach, my Ariel; come!

_Enter ARIEL. _

_Ari. _ All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl'd clouds: to thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality. [379-55]

_Pros. _ Hast thou, spirit, Perform'd to point[379-56] the tempest that I bade thee?

_Ari. _ To every article. I boarded the King's ship; now on the beak, [379-57] Now in the waist, [380-58] the deck, in every cabin, I flamed amazement: sometime I'd divide, And burn in many places; on the top-mast, The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, [380-59] Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary[380-60] And sight-outrunning were not: the fire, and cracks Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble. Yea, his dread trident shake. 

_Pros. _ My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil[380-61] Would not infect his reason?

_Ari. _ Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, [380-62] and play'd Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners Plunged in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel. Then all a-fire with me: The King's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring, [380-63]--then like reeds, not hair, -- Was the first man that leap'd; cried, _Hell is empty, And all the devils are here_. 

_Pros. _ Why, that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore?

_Ari. _ Close by, my master. 

_Pros. _ But are they, Ariel, safe?

_Ari. _ Not a hair perish'd; On their unstaining[381-64] garments not a blemish, But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me, In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle. The King's son have I landed by himself; Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs In an odd angle[381-65] of the isle, and sitting, His arms in this sad knot. [381-66]

_Pros. _ Of the King's ship The mariners, say, how hast thou disposed, And all the rest o' the fleet?[381-67]

_Ari. _ Safely in harbour Is the King's ship; in the deep nook, where once Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, [381-68] there she's hid: The mariners all under hatches stow'd; Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour, I've left asleep:[381-69] and, for the rest o' the fleet Which I dispersed, they all have met again, And are upon the Mediterranean flote, [382-70] Bound sadly home for Naples; Supposing that they saw the King's ship wreck'd, And his great person perish. 

_Pros. _ Ariel, thy charge Exactly is performed: but there's more work. What is the time o' the day?

_Ari. _ Past the mid season, At least two glasses. [382-71]

_Pros. _ The time 'twixt six and now Must by us both be spent most preciously. 

_Ari. _ Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember[382-72] thee what thou hast promised, Which is not yet perform'd[382-73] me. 

_Pros. _ How now! moody? What is't thou canst demand?

_Ari. _ My liberty. 

_Pros. _ Before the time be out? no more![382-74]

_Ari. _ I pr'ythee, Remember I have done thee worthy service; Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, served Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise To bate me a full year. [382-75]

_Pros. _ Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee?

_Ari. _ No. 

_Pros. _ Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep; to run upon the sharp Wind of the North; to do me business in The veins o' the earth when it is baked with frost. [383-76]

_Ari. _ I do not, sir. 

_Pros. _ Thou liest, malignant thing![383-77] Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy[383-78] Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

_Ari. _ No, sir. 

_Pros. _ Thou hast: where was she born? speak; tell me. 

_Ari. _ Sir, in Argier. [383-79]

_Pros. _ O, was she so? I must Once in a month recount what thou hast been, Which thou forgett'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier, Thou know'st, was banish'd. Is not this true?

_Ari. _ Ay, sir. 

_Pros. _ This blue-eyed hag[383-80] was hither brought, And here was left by th' sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant; And, for[383-81] thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, Refusing her grand hests, [384-82] she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers, And in her most unmitigable rage, Into[384-83] a cloven pine; within which rift Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain A dozen years; within which space she died, And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island-- Save for the son that she did litter here, [384-84] A freckled whelp, hag-born--not honour'd with A human shape. 

_Ari. _ Yes, Caliban her son. 

_Pros. _ Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st What torment I did find thee in: thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears. It was a torment To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not again undo: it was mine art, When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape The pine, and let thee out. 

_Ari. _ I thank thee, master. 

_Pros. _ If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou'st howl'd away twelve Winters. 

_Ari. _ Pardon, master: I will be correspondent[384-85] to command, And do my spriting gently. 

_Pros. _ Do so; and after two days I will discharge thee. 

_Ari. _ That's my noble master! What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?

_Pros. _ Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the sea: Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible To every eyeball else. Go take this shape, And hither come in't: hence, with diligence!-- [_Exit ARIEL. _ Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!

_Mira. _ [_Waking. _] The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. 

_Pros. _ Shake it off. Come on; We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never Yields us kind answer. 

_Mira. _ 'Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on. 

_Pros. _ But, as 'tis, We cannot miss him:[385-86] he does make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices That profit us. --What, ho! slave! Caliban! Thou earth, thou! speak. 

_Cal. _ [_Within. _] There's wood enough within. 

_Pros. _ Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee: Come forth, thou tortoise! when![385-87]--

_Re-enter ARIEL, like a Water-nymph. _

 Fine apparition! My quaint[386-88] Ariel, Hark in thine ear. 

_Ari. _ My lord, it shall be done. [_Exit. _

_Pros. _ Thou poisonous slave, come forth!

_Enter CALIBAN. _

_Cal. _ As wicked[386-89] dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o'er![386-90]

_Pros. _ For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches[386-91] that shall pen thy breath up; urchins[386-92] Shall, for that vast[386-93] of night that they may work, All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em. 

_Cal. _ I must eat my dinner This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother. Which thou takest from me. When thou camest here first, Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me; wouldst give me Water with berries in't[386-94] and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place, and fertile. Cursèd be that I did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king: and here you sty[387-95] me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o' the island. 

_Pros. _ Abhorrèd slave, Which any print of goodness wilt not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, [387-96] but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known. But thy vile race, Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deservedly confined into this rock, Who hadst deserved more than a prison. 

_Cal. _ You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid[387-97] you For learning me your language!

_Pros. _ Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best, To answer other business. Shrugg'st thou, malice? If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old[388-98] cramps, Fill all thy bones with achès, make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din. 

_Cal. _ No, pray thee. -- [_Aside. _] I must obey: his art is of such power, It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him. 

_Pros. _ So, slave; hence! [_Exit CALIBAN. _

_Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINANDfollowing. _

ARIEL'S SONG

 Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Curtsied when you have, and kiss'd The wild waves whist, [388-99] Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Hark, hark! { _Burden dispersedly. _ The watch-dogs bark: { Bow-wow. Hark, hark! I hear; { Bow-wow. The strain of strutting { chanticleer. { Cock-a-diddle-dow. 

_Ferd. _ Where should this music be? i' the air, or th' earth? It sounds no more: and, sure, it waits upon Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the King my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion[389-100] With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone. No, it begins again. 

_ARIEL sings. _

 Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change[389-101] Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

 _Burden. _ Ding-Dong. 

 Hark! now I hear them, --Ding-Dong, bell. 

_Ferd. _ The ditty does remember my drown'd father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes. [389-102] I hear it now above me. 

_Pros. _ The fringèd curtains of thine eyes advance, [389-103] And say what thou see'st yond. 

_Mira. _ What is't? A spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave[389-104] form. But 'tis a spirit. 

_Pros. _ No, wench: it eats and sleeps, and hath such senses As we have, such. This gallant which thou see'st Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd With grief, that's beauty's canker, [390-105] thou mightst call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, And strays about to find 'em. 

_Mira. _ I might call him A thing divine; for nothing natural I ever saw so noble. [390-106]

_Pros. _ [_Aside. _] It goes on, [390-107] I see, As my soul prompts it. --Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this. 

_Ferd. _ Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend!--Vouchsafe my prayer May know if you remain upon this island; And that you will some good instruction give How I may bear me here: my prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is, --O you wonder!-- If you be maid or no?[390-108]

_Mira. _ No wonder, [390-109] sir; But certainly a maid. 

_Ferd. _ My language![390-110] Heavens!-- I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken. 

_Pros. _ How! the best? What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?

_Ferd. _ A single thing, [391-111] as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me; And that he does I weep: myself am Naples;[391-112] Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld The King my father wreck'd. 

_Mira. _ Alack, for mercy!

_Ferd. _ Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan And his brave son[391-113] being twain. 

_Pros. _ [_Aside. _] The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee, [391-114] If now t'were fit to do't. At the first sight They have changed eyes. --Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this![391-115]--A word, good sir; I fear you've done yourself some wrong:[391-116] a word. 

_Mira. _ Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father To be inclined my way!

_Ferd. _ O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The Queen of Naples. 

_Pros. _ Soft, sir! one word more. -- [_Aside. _] They're both in either's powers: but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light. [392-117]--One word more; I charge thee That thou attend me: Thou dost here usurp The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself Upon this island as a spy, to win it From me, the lord on't. 

_Ferd. _ No, as I'm a man. 

_Mira. _ There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't. 

_Pros. _ [_To FERD. _] Follow me-- Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. --Come; I'll manacle thy neck and feet together: Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks Wherein the acorn cradled: follow. 

_Ferd. _ No; I will resist such entertainment, till Mine enemy has more power. [_He draws, and is charmed from moving. _

_Mira. _ O dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him, for He's gentle, and not fearful. [392-118]

_Pros. _ What, I say, My fool my tutor!--Put thy sword up, traitor; Who makest a show, but darest not strike, thy conscience Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward;[393-119] For I can here disarm thee with this stick, And make thy weapon drop. 

_Mira. _ Beseech you, father!--

_Pros. _ Hence! hang not on my garments. 

_Mira. _ Sir, have pity; I'll be his surety. 

_Pros. _ Silence! one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! An advocate for an impostor? hush! Thou think'st there are no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench! To th' most of men this is a Caliban, And they to him are angels. 

_Mira. _ My affections Are, then, most humble; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man. 

_Pros. _ [_To FERD. _] Come on; obey: Thy nerves[393-120] are in their infancy again, And have no vigour in them. 

_Ferd. _ So they are: My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wreck of all my friends, and this man's threats To whom I am subdued, are light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid: all corners else o' the Earth Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I in such a prison. 

_Pros. _ [_Aside. _] It works. --[_To FERD. _] Come on. -- Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!--Follow me. -- [_To ARIEL. _] Hark, what thou else shalt do me. 

_Mira. _ Be of comfort; My father's of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted Which now came from him. 

_Pros. _ [_To ARIEL. _] Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command. 

_Ari. _ To th' syllable. 

_Pros. _ Come, follow. --Speak not for him. [_Exeunt. _

ACT II

SCENE I. --_Another part of the Island. _

_Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, andOthers. _

_GONZALO speaks. _

 Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause-- So have we all--of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common; every day some sailor's wife, The master of some merchant, [394-1] and the merchant, Have just our theme of woe: but for the miracle-- I mean our preservation--few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort. 

_Alon. _ Pr'ythee, peace. 

_Sebas. _ He receives comfort like cold porridge. 

_Anto. _ The visitor[395-2] will not give him o'er so. 

_Sebas. _ Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by-and-by it willstrike. 

_Gonza. _ Sir, --

_Sebas. _ One:--tell. [395-3]

_Gonza. _--When every grief is entertained that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer--

_Sebas. _ A dollar. 

_Gonza. _ Dolour[395-4] comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer thanyou purposed. 

_Sebas. _ You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. 

_Gonza. _ Therefore, my lord, --

_Anto. _ Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

_Alon. _ I pr'ythee, spare me. 

_Gonza. _ Well, I have done: but yet--

_Sebas. _ He will be talking. 

_Anto. _ Which, of he or Adrian, [395-5] for a good wager, first begins tocrow?

_Sebas. _ The old cock. [395-6]

_Anto. _ The cockerel. 

_Sebas. _ Done! The wager?

_Anto. _ A laughter. 

_Sebas. _ A match![395-7]

_Adri. _ Though this island seem to be desert, --

_Sebas. _ Ha, ha, ha!--So, you're paid. [396-8]

_Adri. _--uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible, --

_Sebas. _ Yet--

_Adri. _--yet--

_Anto. _ He could not miss't. 

_Adri. _--it must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicatetemperance. [396-9]

_Anto. _ Temperance was a delicate wench. [396-10]

_Sebas. _ Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. 

_Adri. _ The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. 

_Sebas. _ As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. 

_Anto. _ Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen. 

_Gonza. _ Here is everything advantageous to life. 

_Anto. _ True; save means to live. 

_Sebas. _ Of that there's none, or little. 

_Gonza. _ How lush[396-11] and lusty the grass looks! how green!

_Anto. _ The ground, indeed, is tawny. 

_Sebas. _ With an eye[396-12] of green in't. 

_Anto. _ He misses not much. 

_Sebas. _ No: he doth but mistake the truth totally. 

_Gonza. _ But the rarity of it is, --which is indeed almost beyondcredit, --

_Sebas. _ As many vouch'd rarities are. 

_Gonza. _--that our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriageof the King's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. 

_Sebas. _ 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. 

_Adri. _ Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to[397-13]their Queen. 

_Gonza. _ Not since widow Dido's time. [397-14]

_Anto. _ Widow? a pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido!

_Sebas. _ What if he had said widower Æneas too? Good Lord, how you takeit!

_Adri. _ Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that: she was ofCarthage, not of Tunis. 

_Gonza. _ This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. 

_Adri. _ Carthage!

_Gonza. _ I assure you, Carthage. 

_Anto. _ His word is more than the miraculous harp. [397-15]

_Sebas. _ He hath raised the wall and houses too. 

_Anto. _ What impossible matter will he make easy next?

_Sebas. _ I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and giveit his son for an apple. 

_Anto. _ And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth moreislands. 

_Alon. _ Ah!

_Anto. _ Why, in good time. 

_Gonza. _ Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh aswhen we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is nowQueen. 

_Anto. _ And the rarest that e'er came there. 

_Sebas. _ Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. 

_Anto. _ O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido. 

_Gonza. _ Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it, atyour daughter's marriage?

_Alon. _ You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense. [398-16] Would I had never Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, My son is lost; and, in my rate, [398-17] she too, Who is so far from Italy removed, I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee?

_Fran. _ Sir, he may live: I saw him beat the surges under him, And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To th' shore, that o'er his[398-18] wave-worn basis bow'd, As[398-19] stooping to relieve him: I not doubt He came alive to land. 

_Alon. _ No, no; he's gone. 

_Sebas. _ Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African; Where she at least is banish'd from your eye, Who[399-20] hath cause to wet the grief on't. 

_Alon. _ Pr'ythee, peace. 

_Sebas. _ You were kneel'd to, and importuned otherwise, By all of us; and the fair soul herself Weigh'd, between loathness and obedience, at Which end the beam should bow. [399-21] We've lost your son, I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business' making Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault's Your own. 

_Alon. _ So is the dear'st[399-22] o' the loss. 

_Gonza. _ My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster. 

_Sebas. _ Very well. 

_Auto. _ And most chirurgeonly. [399-23]

_Gonza. _ It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. [400-24]

_Sebas. _ Foul weather!

_Anto. _ Very foul. 

_Gonza. _ Had I plantation[400-25] of this isle, my lord, --

_Anto. _ He'd sow't with nettle-seed. 

_Sebas. _ Or docks, or mallows. 

_Gonza. _--And were the King on't, what would I do?

_Sebas. _ 'Scape being drunk for want of wine. 

_Gonza. _ I' the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, [400-26] Bourn, [400-27] bound of land, tilth, [400-28] vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation; all men idle, all, And women too, but innocent and pure; No sovereignty:--

_Sebas. _ Yet he would be king on't. 

_Anto. _ The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. 

_Gonza. _ All things in common Nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, [401-29] Would I not have; but Nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, [401-30] all abundance, To feed my innocent people. 

_Sebas. _ No marrying 'mong his subjects?

_Anto. _ None, man; all idle. 

_Gonza. _ I would with such perfection govern, sir, T' excel the golden age. [401-31]

_Sebas. _ God save his Majesty!

_Anto. _ Long live Gonzalo!

_Gonza. _ And--do you mark me, sir?--

_Alon. _ Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. 

_Gonza. _ I do well believe your Highness; and did it to ministeroccasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible[401-32] and nimblelungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing. 

_Anto. _ 'Twas you we laugh'd at. 

_Gonza. _ Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you:[401-33] soyou may continue, and laugh at nothing still. 

_Anto. _ What a blow was there given!

_Sebas. _ An it had not fallen flat-long. [401-34]

_Gonza. _ You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the Moon outof her sphere, if she would[402-35] continue in it five weeks withoutchanging. 

_Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music. _

_Sebas. _ We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling. [402-36]

_Anto. _ Nay, good my lord, be not angry. 

_Gonza. _ No, I warrant you; I will not adventure[402-37] my discretionso weakly. Will you laugh me asleep? for I am very heavy. 

_Anto. _ Go sleep, and hear us not. 

 [_All sleep[402-38] but ALON. , SEBAS. , and ANTO. _

_Alon. _ What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclined to do so. 

_Sebas. _ Please you, sir, Do not omit[402-39] the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter. 

_Anto. _ We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety. 

_Alon. _ Thank you. --Wondrous heavy. [403-40] [_ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL. _

_Sebas. _ What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

[Illustration: ANTONIO AND SEBASTIAN PLOTTING]

_Anto. _ It is the quality o' the climate. 

_Sebas. _ Why Doth it not, then, our eyelids sink? I find not Myself disposed to sleep. 

_Anto. _ Nor I; my spirits are nimble. They[404-41] fell together all, as by consent; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian, O, what might![404-42] No more: And yet methinks I see it in thy face, What thou shouldst be: th' occasion speaks thee;[404-43] and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head. 

_Sebas. _ What, art thou waking?

_Anto. _ Do you not hear me speak?

_Sebas. _ I do: and surely It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep. 

_Anto. _ Noble Sebastian, Thou lett'st thy fortune sleep, --die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. [404-44]

_Sebas. _ Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores. 

_Anto. _ I am more serious than my custom: you Must be so too, if heed[404-45] me; which to do Trebles thee o'er. [404-46]

_Sebas. _ Well, I am standing water. [405-47]

_Anto. _ I'll teach you how to flow. 

_Sebas. _ Do so: to ebb Hereditary sloth instructs me. 

_Anto. _ O, If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it![405-48] Ebbing men, [405-49] indeed, Most often do so near the bottom run By their own fear or sloth. 

_Sebas. _ Pr'ythee, say on: The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter[405-50] from thee; and a birth indeed Which throes thee much to yield. [405-51]

_Anto. _ Thus, sir: Although this lord[405-52] of weak remembrance, this Who shall be of as little memory[405-53] When he is earth'd, [405-54] hath here almost persuaded-- For he's a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade--the King his son's alive, 'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd As he that sleeps here swims. 

_Sebas. _ I have no hope That he's undrown'd. 

_Anto. _ O, out of that no hope What great hope have you! no hope that way is Another way so high a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink[406-55] beyond-- But doubt discovery there. [406-56] Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown'd?

_Sebas. _ He's gone. 

_Anto. _ Then, tell me, Who's the next heir of Naples?

_Sebas. _ Claribel. 

_Anto. _ She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life;[406-57] she that from Naples Can have no note, [406-58] unless the Sun were post, --[406-59] The Man-i'-the-moon's too slow, --till new-born chins Be rough and razorable. She 'twas for whom we All were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again;[406-60] And, by that destiny, to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come[406-61] In yours and my discharge. 

_Sebas. _ What stuff is this! How say you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis; So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space. 

_Anto. _ A space whose every cubit Seems to cry out, _How shall thou, Claribel, Measure us back[407-62] to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake!_ Say, this were death That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be[407-63] that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate As amply and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo: I myself could make A chough[407-64] of as deep chat. [407-65] O, that you bore The mind that I do! what a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me?

_Sebas. _ Methinks I do. 

_Anto. _ And how does your content Tender your own good fortune?[407-66]

_Sebas. _ I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero. 

_Anto. _ True: And look how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater[407-67] than before: my brother's servants Were then my fellows; now they are my men. 

_Sebas. _ But, for your conscience--

_Anto. _ Ay, sir; and where lies that? if 'twere a kibe, [408-68] 'Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied[408-69] be they, And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he's like; whom I, With this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink[408-70] for aye might put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They'll take suggestion[408-71] as a cat laps milk; They'll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour. [408-72]

_Sebas. _ Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent; as thou gott'st Milan, I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st; And I the King shall love thee. 

_Anto. _ Draw together;[408-73] And when I rear my hand, do you the like, To fall it on Gonzalo. 

_Sebas. _ O, but one word. [_They converse apart. _

_Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible. _

_Ari. _ My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth-- For else his project dies--to keep thee living. 

 [_Sings in GONZALO'S ear. _

 While you here do snoring lie, Open-eyed conspiracy His time doth take. If of life you keep a care, Shake off slumber, and beware: Awake! Awake!

_Anto. _ Then let us both be sudden. 

_Gonza. _ [_Waking. _] Now, good angels Preserve the King!--[_To SEBAS. And ANTO. _] Why, how now!--[_To ALON. _] Ho, awake!-- [_To SEBAS. And ANTO. _] Why are you drawn?[409-74] wherefore this ghastly looking?[409-75]

_Alon. _ [_Waking. _] What's the matter?

_Sebas. _ Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions: did't not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly. 

_Alon. _ I heard nothing. 

_Anto. _ O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear, To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. 

_Alon. _ Heard you this, Gonzalo?

_Gonza. _ Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me: I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise, That's verity. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons. 

_Alon. _ Lead off this ground; and let's make further search For my poor son. 

_Gonza. _ Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island. 

_Alon. _ Lead away. [_Exit with the others. _

_Ari. _ Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:-- So, King, go safely on to seek thy son. [_Exit. _

SCENE II. --_Another part of the Island. _

_Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of Thunder heard. _

_Cal. _ All the infections that the Sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal[410-1] a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin-shows, [410-2] pitch me i' the mire, Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, [410-3] in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em: but For every trifle are they set upon me; Sometime[410-4] like apes, that mow[410-5] and chatter at me And after bite me; then like hedgehogs, which Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount Their pricks[411-6] at my foot-fall; sometime am I All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues Do hiss me into madness. Lo, now, lo! Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat: Perchance he will not mind me. [411-7]

_Enter TRINCULO. _

_Trin. _ Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off[411-8] any weather atall, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' the wind: yond sameblack cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard[411-9] that wouldshed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not whereto hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall bypailfuls. --What have we here? a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: hesmells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind ofnot-of-the-newest poor-john. [411-10] A strange fish! Were I in Englandnow, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday foolthere but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make aman; any strange beast there makes a man:[411-11] when they will notgive a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see adead Indian. Legg'd like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o' mytroth! I do now let loose my opinion; hold it no longer: this is nofish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunder-bolt. [_Thunder. _] Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to creepunder his gaberdine;[412-12] there is no other shelter hereabout: miseryacquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till thedregs of the storm be past. 

 [_Creeps under CALIBAN'S garment. _

_Enter STEPHANO, singing; a bottle in his hand. _

 Steph. _I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here shall I die ashore;--_

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: well, here's mycomfort. [_Drinks. _

[Sings. ] _The master, the swabber, [412-13] the boatswain, and I, The gunner, and his mate, Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, But none of us cared for Kate; For she had a tongue with a tang, [412-14] Would cry to a sailor, _Go hang!_She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch: Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!_

This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort. [_Drinks. _

_Cal. _ Do not torment me:--O!

_Steph. _ What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricksupon's with savages and men of Inde, [413-15] ha? I have not 'scapeddrowning, to be afeared now of your four legs; for it hath been said, Asproper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground; andit shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at's nostrils. 

_Cal. _ The spirit torments me:--O!

_Steph. _ This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the Devil should he learn our language? Iwill give him some relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a present for anyemperor that ever trod on neat's-leather. [413-16]

_Cal. _ Do not torment me, pr'ythee: I'll bring my wood home faster. 

_Steph. _ He's in his fit now, and does not talk after the wisest. Heshall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore, it will gonear to remove his fit. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I willnot take too much for him;[413-17] he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. 

_Cal. _ Thou dost me yet but little hurt; Thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper works upon thee. 

_Steph. _ Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which willgive a language to you, cat:[413-18] open your mouth; this will shakeyour shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: [_Gives him drink. _] youcannot tell who's your friend; open your chops again. [_Gives him moredrink. _

_Trin. _ I should know that voice: it should be--but he is drown'd; andthese are devils:--O, defend me!

_Steph. _ Four legs, and two voices--a most delicate monster? His forwardvoice now is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to utterfoul speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recoverhim, I will help his ague: [_Gives him drink. _]--Come, --Amen![414-19] Iwill pour some in thy other mouth. 

_Trin. _ Stephano!

_Steph. _ Doth thy other mouth call me?--Mercy, mercy! This is a deviland no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon. [414-20]

_Trin. _ Stephano!--If thou be'st Stephano, touch me, and speak to me;for I am Trinculo, --be not afeared, --thy good friend Trinculo. 

_Steph. _ If thou be'st Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull thee by thelesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. [_PullsTRINCULO out. _] Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How earnest thou to bethe siege[414-21] of this moon-calf?[414-22]

_Trin. _ I took him to be kill'd with a thunder-stroke. But art thou notdrown'd, Stephano? I hope, now, thou art not drown'd?[415-23] Is thestorm overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fearof the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans'scaped!

_Steph. _ Pr'ythee, do not turn me about; my stomach is notconstant. [415-24]

_Cal. _ [_Aside. _] These be fine things, an if[415-25] they be not sprites. That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor: I will kneel to him. 

_Steph. _ How didst thou 'scape? How camest thou hither? swear, by thisbottle, how thou camest hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack, [415-26]which the sailors heaved o'erboard, by this bottle! which I made of thebark of a tree with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore. 

_Cal. _ I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy True subject; for the liquor is not earthly. 

_Steph. _ Here; swear, man, how thou escapedst. 

_Trin. _ Swam ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim like a duck, I'll besworn. 

_Steph. _ Here kiss the book. [_Gives him drink. _] Though thou canst swimlike a duck, thou art made like a goose. 

_Trin. _ O Stephano, hast any more of this?

_Steph. _ The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. --How now, moon-calf! how does thine ague?

_Cal. _ Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven?

_Steph. _ Out o' the Moon, I do assure thee: I was the Man-i'-the-moonwhen time was. 

_Cal. _ I've seen thee in her, and I do adore thee: My mistress show'd me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush. [416-27]

_Steph. _ Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish it anon withnew contents: swear. [_Gives CALIBAN drink. _

_Trin. _ By this good light, this is a very shallow monster!--I afearedof him!--a very weak monster!--_The Man-i'-the-moon!_--a most poorcredulous monster!--Well drawn, [416-28] monster, in good sooth. 

_Cal. _ I'll show thee every fertile inch o' the island; And I will kiss thy foot: I pr'ythee, be my god. 

_Trin. _ By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster! when hisgod's asleep, he'll rob his bottle. 

_Cal. _ I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject. 

_Steph. _ Come on then; down, and swear. 

_Trin. _ I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster. Amost scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him, --

_Steph. _ Come, kiss. [_Gives CALIBAN drink. _

_Trin. _--but that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monster!

_Cal. _ I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries; I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, Thou wondrous man. 

_Trin. _ A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard!

_Cal. _ I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;[417-29] Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee To clustering filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee Young staniels[417-30] from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

_Steph. _ I pr'ythee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the King and all our company else being drown'd, we willinherit here. Here, bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we'll fill himby-and-by again. 

_Cal. _ [_Sings drunkenly. _] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell. 

_Trin. _ A howling monster; a drunken monster!

_Cal. _ No more dams I'll make for fish; Nor fetch in firing at requiring; Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish: 'Ban, 'Ban, Ca--Caliban Has a new master; get a new man. Freedom, hey-day, hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day, freedom!

_Steph. _ O brave monster! lead the way. 

 [_Exeunt. _

ACT III

SCENE I. --_Before PROSPERO'S Cell. _

_Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log. _

 There be some sports are painful, and their labour Delight in them sets off:[418-1] some kinds of baseness[418-2] Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters Point to rich ends. This my mean task would be As heavy to me as 'tis odious, but The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead, And makes my labours pleasures:[418-3] O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed, And he's composed of harshness. I must remove Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up, Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress Weeps when she sees me work; and says such baseness Had never like executor. I forget: But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labour; Most busy when I do it least. [419-4]

_Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO behind. _

_Mira. _ Alas, now, pray you, Work not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs that you're enjoin'd to pile! Pray, set it down, and rest you: when this burns, 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself: He's safe for these three hours. 

_Ferd. _ O most dear mistress, The Sun will set before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. 

_Mira. _ If you'll sit down, I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that; I'll carry't to the pile. 

_Ferd. _ No, precious creature; I'd rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by. 

_Mira. _ It would become me As well as it does you: and I should do it With much more ease; for my good will is to it, And yours it is against. 

_Pros. _ [_Aside. _] Poor worm, thou art infected! This visitation shows it. 

_Mira. _ You look wearily. 

_Ferd. _ No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night. I do beseech you, -- Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers, -- What is your name?

_Mira. _ Miranda--O my father, I've broke your best to say so!

_Ferd. _ Admired Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration; worth What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady I've eyed with best regard; and many a time The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues Have I liked several women; never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil:[420-5] but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best!

_Mira. _ I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen More that I may call men, than you, good friend, And my dear father: how features are abroad, I'm skilless of; but, by my modesty, -- The jewel in my dower, --I would not wish Any companion in the world but you; Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle Something too wildly, and my father's precepts I therein do forget. 

[Illustration: PRAY YOU, WORK NOT SO HARD]

_Ferd. _ I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king, -- I would not so![420-6]--and would no more endure This wooden slavery than to suffer The flesh-fly blow[422-7] my mouth. Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service; there resides, To make me slave to it; and for your sake Am I this patient log-man. 

_Mira. _ Do you love me?

_Ferd. _ O Heaven, O Earth, bear witness to this sound, And crown what I profess with kind event, If I speak true! if hollowly, [422-8] invert What best is boded me to mischief! I, Beyond all limit of what else[422-9] i' the world, Do love, prize, honour you. 

_Mira. _ I am a fool To weep at what I'm glad of. 

_Pros. _ [_Aside. _] Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between them!

_Ferd. _ Wherefore weep you?

_Mira. _ At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give; and much less take What I shall die to want. [422-10] But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife, if you will marry me; If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow[423-11] You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no. 

_Ferd. _ My mistress, dearest, And I thus humble ever. 

_Mira. _ My husband, then?

_Ferd. _ Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage[423-12] e'er of freedom: here's my hand. 

_Mira. _ And mine, with my heart in't: and now farewell Till half an hour hence. 

_Ferd. _ A thousand thousand![423-13]

 [_Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA. _

_Pros. _ So glad of this as they, I cannot be, Who am surprised withal;[423-14] but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book; For yet, ere supper-time, must I perform Much business appertaining. [_Exit. _

SCENE II. --_Another part of the Island. _

_Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, with a bottle. _

_Steph. _ Tell not me: when the butt is out, we will drink water; not adrop before: therefore bear up, and board 'em. [423-1] Servant-monster, drink to me. 

_Trin. _ Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They say there's butfive upon this isle: we are three of them; if th' other two be brain'dlike us, the State totters. 

_Steph. _ Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes are almostset[424-2] in thy head. 

 [_CALIBAN drinks. _

_Trin. _ Where should they be set else? he were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. 

_Steph. _ My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in sack: for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five-and-thirty leagues, off and on, by this light. --Thou shalt be mylieutenant, monster, or my standard. [424-3]

_Trin. _ Your lieutenant, if you list: he's no standard. [424-4]

_Steph. _ We'll not run, Monsieur Monster. 

_Trin. _ Nor go neither: but you'll lie like dogs, and yet say nothingneither. 

_Steph. _ Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou be'st a goodmoon-calf. 

_Cal. _ How does thy Honour? Let me lick thy shoe. I'll not serve him, heis not valiant. 

_Trin. _ Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to justle aconstable. [424-5] Why, thou debosh'd[424-6] fish, thou, was there everman a coward that hath drunk so much sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell amonstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster?

_Cal. _ Boo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?

_Trin. _ Lord, quoth he. That a monster should be such a natural![425-7]

_Cal. _ Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I pr'ythee. 

_Steph. _ Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you prove amutineer, --the next tree. [425-8] The poor monster's my subject, and heshall not suffer indignity. 

_Cal. _ I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased To hearken once again the suit I made thee?

_Steph. _ Marry, will I: kneel, and repeat it; I will stand, and so shallTrinculo. 

_Enter ARIEL, invisible. _

_Cal. _ As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant; a sorcerer, thatby his cunning hath cheated me of the island. 

_Ari. _ Thou liest. [425-9]

_Cal. _ Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou: I would my valiant master would destroy thee! I do not lie. 

_Steph. _ Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth. 

_Trin. _ Why, I said nothing. 

_Steph. _ Mum, then, and no more. -- [_To CAL. _] Proceed. 

_Cal. _ I say, by sorcery he got this isle; From me he got it. If thy Greatness will Revenge it on him, --for, I know, thou darest, But this thing[425-10] dare not, --

_Steph. _ That's most certain. 

_Cal. _ Thou shalt be lord of it, and I will serve thee. 

_Steph. _ How now shall this be compass'd? Canst thou bring me to the party?

_Cal. _ Yea, yea, my lord; I'll yield him thee asleep, Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head. 

_Ari. _ Thou liest; thou canst not. 

_Cal. _ What a pied ninny's[426-11] this!--Thou scurvy patch![426-12]-- I do beseech thy Greatness, give him blows, And take his bottle from him: when that's gone, He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him Where the quick freshes[426-13] are. 

_Steph. _ Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the monster oneword further, and, by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out of doors, andmake a stock-fish[426-14] of thee. 

_Trin. _ Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go further off. 

_Steph. _ Didst thou not say he lied?

_Ari. _ Thou liest. 

_Steph. _ Do I so? take thou that. [_Strikes him. _] As you like this, give me the lie another time. 

_Trin. _ I did not give thee the lie. Out o' your wits and hearing too? Apox o' your bottle! this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on yourmonster, and the Devil take your fingers!

_Cal. _ Ha, ha, ha!

_Steph. _ Now, forward with your tale. --Pr'ythee stand furtheroff. [427-15]

_Cal. _ Beat him enough: after a little time, I'll beat him too. 

_Steph. _ Stand further. --Come, proceed. 

_Cal. _ Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him I' the afternoon to sleep; then thou mayst brain him, Having first seized his books; or with a log Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his weazand[427-16] with thy knife. Remember First to possess his books; for without them He's but a sot, [427-17] as I am, nor hath not One spirit to command: they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. He has brave[427-18] utensils, --for so he calls them, -- Which, when he has a house, he'll deck't withal: And that most deeply to consider is The beauty of his daughter; he himself Calls her a nonpareil: I ne'er saw woman, But only Sycorax my dam and she; But she as far surpasseth Sycorax As great'st does least. 

_Steph. _ Is it so brave a lass?

_Cal. _ Ay, lord. 

_Steph. _ Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I will be kingand queen, --save our Graces!--and Trinculo and thyself shall beviceroys. --Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo?

_Trin. _ Excellent. 

_Steph. _ Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but, while thoulivest, keep a good tongue in thy head. 

_Cal. _ Within this half-hour will he be asleep: Wilt thou destroy him then?

_Steph. _ Ay, on mine honour. 

_Ari. _ This will I tell my master. [428-19]

_Cal. _ Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure: Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch[428-20] You taught me but while-ere?[428-21]

_Steph. _ At thy request, monster, I will do reason, [428-22] anyreason. --Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. [_Sings. _ _Flout 'em and scout 'em, and scout 'em and flout 'em; Thought is free. _

_Cal. _ That's not the tune. 

 [_ARIEL plays the tune on a tabor and pipe. _

_Steph. _ What is this same?[428-23]

_Trin. _ This is the tune of our catch, play'd by the picture ofNobody. [428-24]

_Steph. _ If thou be'st a man, show thyself in thy likeness: if thoube'st a devil--take't as thou list. [429-25]

_Trin. _ O, forgive me my sins!

_Steph. _ He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. --Mercy upon us!

_Cal. _ Art thou afeard?

_Steph. _ No, monster, not I. 

_Cal. _ Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not. Sometime[429-26] a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again. 

_Steph. _ This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have mymusic for nothing. 

_Cal. _ When Prospero is destroy'd. 

_Steph. _ That shall be by-and-by: I remember the story. 

_Cal. _ The sound is going away; let's follow it. And after do our work. 

_Steph. _ Lead, monster; we'll follow. --I would I could see this taborer!he lays it on. --Wilt come?

_Trin. _ I'll follow, Stephano. [_Exeunt. _

SCENE III. --_Another part of the Island. _

_Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, andOthers. _

_Gonza. _ By'r lakin, [430-1] I can go no further, sir; My old bones ache: here's a maze trod, indeed, Through forth-rights[430-2] and meanders![430-3] by your patience, I needs must rest me. 

_Alon. _ Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who am myself attach'd with[430-4] weariness, To th' dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest. Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd Whom thus we stray to find; and the sea mocks Our frustrate[430-5] search on land. Well, let him go. 

_Anto. _ [_Aside to SEBAS. _] I am right glad that he's so out of hope. Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose That you resolved t' effect. 

_Sebas. _ [_Aside to ANTO. _] The next advantage Will we take throughly. [430-6]

_Anto. _ [_Aside to SEBAS. _] Let it be to-night. For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance As when they're fresh. 

_Sebas. _ [_Aside to ANTO. _] I say, to-night: no more. [_Solemn and strange music. _

_Alon. _ What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!

_Gonza. _ Marvellous sweet music!

_Enter PROSPERO above, invisible. Enter, below, several strange Shapes, bringing in a Banquet: they dance about it with gentle actions of salutation; and, inviting the KING, &c. , to eat, they depart. _

_Alon. _ Give us kind keepers, Heavens!-- What were these?

_Sebas. _ A living drollery. [431-7] Now I will believe That there are unicorns; that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix throne;[431-8] one phoenix At this hour reigning there. 

_Anto. _ I'll believe both; And what does else want credit, come to me, And I'll be sworn 'tis true; travellers ne'er did lie, Though fools at home condemn 'em. 

_Gonza. _ If in Naples I should report this now, would they believe me? If I should say I saw such islanders, -- For, certes, [431-9] these are people of the island, -- Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note, Their manners are more gentle-kind than of Our human generation you shall find Many, nay, almost any. 

_Pros. _ [_Aside. _] Honest lord, Thou hast said well; for some of you there present Are worse than devils. 

_Alon. _ I cannot too much muse[432-10] Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing-- Although they want the use of tongue--a kind Of excellent dumb discourse. 

_Pros. _ [_Aside. _] Praise in departing. [432-11]

_Fran. _ They vanish'd strangely. 

_Sebas. _ No matter, since They've left their viands behind; for we have stomachs. -- Will't please you taste of what is here?

_Alon. _ Not I. 

_Gonza. _ Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys, Who would believe that there were mountaineers Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men Whose heads stood in their breasts?[432-12] which now we find, Each putter-out of one for five[432-13] will bring us Good warrant of. 

_Alon. _ I will stand to, and feed, Although my last: no matter, since I feel The best is past. --Brother, my lord the Duke, Stand to, and do as we. 

_Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and by a quaint device, the banquet vanishes. _

_Ari. _ You are three men of sin, whom Destiny-- That hath to instrument[433-14] this lower world And what is in't--the never-surfeited sea Hath caused to belch up; yea, and on this island Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men Being most unfit to live. I've made you mad; And even with such like valour men hang and drown Their proper selves. [_Seeing ALON. , SEBAS. , &c. , draw their swords. _ You fools! I and my fellows Are ministers of Fate: the elements, Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs Kill the still-closing[433-15] waters, as diminish One dowle[434-16] that's in my plume: my fellow-ministers Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt, Your swords are now too massy for your strengths, And will not be uplifted. But remember, -- For that's my business to you, --that you three From Milan did supplant good Prospero; Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit[434-17] it, Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures, Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, They have bereft; and do pronounce, by me, Lingering perdition--worse than any death Can be at once--shall step by step attend You and your ways; whose[434-18] wraths to guard you from, -- Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads, --is nothing, but heart-sorrow And a clear life ensuing. 

_He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter the Shapes again, and dance with mocks and mowes, and carry out the table. _

_Pros. _ [_Aside. _] Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring: Of my instruction hast thou nothing 'bated In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life, And observation strange, my meaner ministers Their several kinds have done. [435-19] My high charms work, And these mine enemies are all knit up In their distractions: they now are in my power; And in these fits I leave them, while I visit Young Ferdinand, --who they suppose is drown'd, -- And his and my loved darling. [_Exit from above. _

_Gonza. _ I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand you In this strange stare?

_Alon. _ O, it is monstrous, monstrous! Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it;[435-20] The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ pipe, pronounced The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass. [435-21] Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded;[435-22] and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded. [435-23] [_Exit. _

_Sebas. _ But one fiend at a time, I'll fight their legions o'er. 

_Anto. _ I'll be thy second. 

 [_Exeunt SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO. _

_Gonza. _ All three of them are desperate: their great guilt, Like poison given to work a long time after, [436-24] Now 'gins to bite the spirits. --I do beseech you, That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly, And hinder them from what this ecstasy[436-25] May now provoke them to. 

_Adri. _ Follow, I pray you. [_Exeunt. _

ACT IV

SCENE I. --_Before PROSPERO'S Cell. _

_Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, AND MIRANDA. PROSPERO speaks. _

 If I have too austerely punish'd you, Your compensation makes amends; for I Have given you here a thread of mine own life, Or that for which I live; who once again I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore Heaven, I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, Do not smile at me that I boast her off, For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise And make it halt behind her. 

_Ferd. _ I do believe it Against an oracle. 

_Pros. _ Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition Worthily purchased, take my daughter, thou. Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own. -- What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!

_Enter ARIEL. _

_Ari. _ What would my potent master? Here I am. 

_Pros. _ Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service Did worthily perform; and I must use you In such another trick. Go bring the rabble, O'er whom I give thee power, here, to this place: Incite them to quick motion; for I must Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple Some vanity[437-1] of mine art: it is my promise, And they expect it from me. 

_Ari. _ Presently?

_Pros. _ Ay, with a twink. [437-2]

_Ari. _ Before you can say _Come_ and _Go_, And breathe twice, and cry _So, so_. Each one, tripping on his toe, Will be here with mop[437-3] and mow. [437-4] Do you love me, master?--no? [_Exit. _

_Pros. _ Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary, [437-5] Rather than want a spirit: appear, and pertly![437-6] No tongue; all eyes; be silent. 

 [_Soft music. _

_Enter IRIS. _[437-7]

_Iris. _ Ceres, [437-8] most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and peas; Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatch'd with stover, [438-9] them to keep; Thy banks with peonéd[438-10] and twillèd[438-11] brims, Which spongy[438-12] April at thy best betrims, To make cold nymphs chaste crowns;[438-13] and thy brown groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, Being lass-lorn;[438-14] thy pole-clipt vineyard;[438-15] And thy sea-marge, steril, and rocky-hard, Where thou thyself dost air;--the Queen o' the Sky, [438-16] Whose watery arch[438-17] and messenger am I, Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign Grace, Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, To come and sport. Her peacocks[438-18] fly amain: Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. 

_Enter CERES. _

_Cer. _ Hail, many-color'd messenger, that ne'er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;[438-19] Who, with thy saffron wings, upon my flowers Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers; And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown My bosky[440-20] acres and my unshrubb'd down, [440-21] Rich scarf to my proud Earth;--why hath thy Queen Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green?

[Illustration: CERES ENTERS, AT IRIS' CALL]

_Iris. _ A contract of true love to celebrate; And some donation freely to estate On the bless'd lovers. 

_Cer. _ Tell me, heavenly Bow, If Venus[440-22] or her son, as thou dost know, Do now attend the Queen? Since they did plot The means that dusky Dis[440-23] my daughter got, [440-24] Her and her blind boy's[440-25] scandal'd company I have forsworn. 

_Iris. _ Of her society Be not afraid: I met her deity Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, [440-26] and her son Dove-drawn with her. 

_Cer. _ Here, Queen of highest state, Great Juno comes; I know her by her gait. [440-27]

_Enter JUNO. _[440-28]

_Juno. _ How does my bounteous sister? Go with me To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be, And honour'd in their issue. 

SONG. 

 Juno. _Honour, riches, marriage-blessing, Long continuance, and increasing, Hourly joys be still upon you! Juno sings her blessings on you. _

 Cer. _Earth's increase, and foison plenty, [441-29] Barns and garners never empty; Vines with clustering bunches growing; Plants with goodly burden bowing; Spring come to you at the farthest In the very end of harvest![441-30] Scarcity and want shall shun you; Ceres' blessing so is on you. _

_Ferd. _ This is a most majestic vision, and Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold To think these spirits?[441-31]

_Pros. _ Spirits, which by mine art I have from their confines call'd to enact My present fancies. 

_Ferd. _ Let me live here ever; So rare a wonder'd[442-32] father and a wife Make this place Paradise. [_JUNO and CERES whisper, and send IRIS on employment. _

_Pros. _ Sweet, now, silence! Juno and Ceres whisper seriously; There's something else to do: hush, and be mute, Or else our spell is marr'd. 

_Iris. _ You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the winding brooks, With your sedge crowns and ever-harmless looks, Leave your crisp[442-33] channels, and on this green land Answer our summons; Juno does command: Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate A contract of true love; be not too late. --

_Enter certain_ Nymphs. 

 You sun-burn'd sicklemen, [442-34] of August weary, Come hither from the furrow, and be merry: Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on, And these fresh nymphs encounter every one In country footing. 

_Enter certain _Reapers, _ properly habited: they join with the _Nymphs_ in a graceful dance; towards the end whereof PROSPERO starts suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused noise, they heavily vanish. _

_Pros. _ [_Aside. _] I had forgot that foul conspiracy Of the beast Caliban and his confederates Against my life: the minute of their plot Is almost come. --[_To the_ Spirits. ] Well done; avoid;[443-35] no more!

_Ferd. _ This is most strange: your father's in some passion That works him strongly. 

_Mira. _ Never till this day Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd. 

_Pros. _ You do, my son, look in a moved sort, As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack[443-36] behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, [443-37] and our little life Is rounded[443-38] with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd; Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled: Be not disturb'd with my infirmity: If you be pleased, retire into my cell, And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk, To still my beating mind. 

_Ferd. _ }_Mira. _ } We wish you peace. 

_Pros. _ [_To ARIEL. _] Come with a thought!-- I thank ye. [444-39] [_Exeunt FERD. And MIRA. _]--Ariel, come!

_Re-enter ARIEL. _

_Ari. _ Thy thoughts I cleave to: what's thy pleasure?

_Pros. _ Spirit, We must prepare to meet with[444-40] Caliban. 

_Ari. _ Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres, I thought t' have told thee of it; but I fear'd Lest I might anger thee. 

_Pros. _ Well, say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?

_Ari. _ I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; So full of valour, that they smote the air For breathing[444-41] in their faces; beat the ground For kissing of their feet; yet always bending Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor; At which, like unback'd[444-42] colts, they prick'd their ears, Advanced[444-43] their eyelids, lifted up their noses As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears, That, calf-like, they my lowing follow'd through Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns, Which enter'd their frail shins: at last I left them I' the filthy-mantled[445-44] pool beyond your cell, There dancing up to th' chins, that[445-45] the foul lake O'erstunk their feet. 

_Pros. _ This was well done, my bird. Thy shape invisible retain thou still: The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither, For stale[445-46] to catch these thieves. 

_Ari. _ I go, I go. [_Exit. _

_Pros. _ A devil, a born-devil, [445-47] on whose nature Nurture can never stick;[445-48] on whom my pains, Humanely taken, all are lost, quite lost; And as with age his body uglier grows, So his mind cankers. [445-49] I will plague them all, Even to roaring. --

_Re-enter ARIEL loaden with glistering apparel, &c. _

 Come, hang them on this line. [445-50]

_PROSPERO and ARIEL remain invisible. Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet. _

_Cal. _ Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell. 

_Steph. _ Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, hasdone little better than play'd the Jack with us. [446-51]

_Trin. _ Monster, I do smell all horse-stale; at which my nose is ingreat indignation. 

_Steph. _ So is mine. --Do you hear, monster? If I should take adispleasure against you, look you, --

_Trin. _ Thou wert but a lost monster. 

_Cal. _ Nay, good my lord, give me thy favour still. Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to Shall hoodwink this mischance:[446-52] therefore speak softly; All's hush'd as midnight yet. 

_Trin. _ Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool, --

_Steph. _ There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster, butan infinite loss. 

_Trin. _ That's more to me than my wetting: yet this is your harmlessfairy, monster. 

_Steph. _ I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears for mylabour. 

_Cal. _ Pr'ythee, my King, be quiet. See'st thou here? This is the mouth o' the cell: no noise, and enter. Do that good mischief which may make this island Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, For aye thy foot-licker. 

_Steph. _ Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts. 

_Trin. _ O King Stephano! O peer![446-53] O worthy Stephano! look what awardrobe here is for thee!

_Cal. _ Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash. 

_Trin. _ O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery. [447-54]--OKing Stephano!

_Steph. _ Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll have that gown. 

_Trin. _ Thy Grace shall have it. 

_Cal. _ The dropsy drown this fool!--what do you mean, To dote thus on such luggage? Let's along, And do the murder first: if he awake, From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches; Make us strange stuff. 

_Steph. _ Be you quiet, monster. --Mistress line, is not this my jerkin?Now is the jerkin under the line:[447-55] now, jerkin, you are like tolose your hair, and prove a bald jerkin. 

_Trin. _ Do, do; we steal by line and level, [447-56] an't like yourGrace. 

_Steph. _ I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment for't: wit shallnot go unrewarded while I am king of this country. _Steal by line andlevel_ is an excellent pass of pate;[448-57] there's another garmentfor't. 

_Trin. _ Monster, come, put some lime[448-58] upon your fingers, and awaywith the rest. 

[Illustration: STEPHANO AND TRINCULO QUARREL]

_Cal. _ I will have none on't: we shall lose our time, And all be turn'd to barnacles, [448-59] or to apes With foreheads villainous low. 

_Steph. _ Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this away, where myhogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you out of my kingdom: go to, carrythis. 

_Trin. _ And this. 

_Steph. _ Ay, and this. 

_A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers _Spirits_ in shape of hounds, and hunt them about; PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on. _

_Pros. _ Hey, Mountain, hey!

_Ari. _ Silver! there it goes, Silver!

_Pros. _ Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark! hark!-- [_CAL. , STEPH. And TRIN. Are driven out. _ Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews With aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make them Than pard or cat-o'-mountain. [449-60]

_Ari. _ Hark, they roar!

_Pros. _ Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour Lie at my mercy all mine enemies: Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little Follow, and do me service. [_Exeunt. _

ACT V

SCENE I. --_Before the Cell of PROSPERO. _

_Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL. PROSPERO speaks:_

 Now does my project gather to a head: My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and Time Goes upright with his carriage. [450-1] How's the day?

_Ari. _ On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, You said our work should cease. 

_Pros. _ I did say so, When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, How fares the King and's followers?

_Ari. _ Confined together In the same fashion as you gave in charge: Just as you left them; all are prisoners, sir, In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell;[450-2] They cannot budge till your release. [450-3] The King, His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted; And the remainder mourning over them, Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly He that you term'd _The good old lord, Gonzalo_: His tears run down his beard, like winter-drops From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em, That, if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender. 

_Pros. _ Dost thou think so, spirit?

_Ari. _ Mine would, sir, were I human. 

_Pros. _ And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, One of their kind, that relish all as sharply Passion as they, [451-4] be kindlier moved than thou art? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th' quick, Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury Do I take part: the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel: My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, And they shall be themselves. 

_Ari. _ I'll fetch them, sir. [_Exit. _

_Pros. _ Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves; And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune, [451-5] and do fly him When he comes back; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets[451-6] make, Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms;[452-7] that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew;[452-8] by whose aid-- Weak masters[452-9] though ye be--I have be-dimm'd The noon-tide Sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, And twixt the green sea and the azure vault Set roaring war: to the dread-rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's[452-10] stout oak With his own bolt: the strong-based promontory Have I made shake, and by the spurs[452-11] pluck'd up The pine and cedar: graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth By my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure; and, when I have required Some heavenly music, --which even now I do, -- To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll drown my book. [_Solemn music. _

_Re-enter ARIEL: after him, ALONSO, with a frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO: they all enter the circle which PROSPERO has made, and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO observing, speaks. _

 A solemn air, as the best comforter To an unsettled fancy, cure the brains, Now useless, boil'd[453-12] within the skull!--There stand, For you are spell-stopp'd. -- Holy Gonzalo, honourable man, Mine eyes, even sociable to[453-13] the show of thine, Fall fellowly drops. [453-14]--The charm dissolves apace; And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses[453-15] Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle[453-16] Their clearer reason. --O thou good Gonzalo, My true preserver, and a loyal sir To him thou follow'st! I will pay thy graces Home[453-17] both in word and deed. --Most cruelly Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter: Thy brother was a furtherer in the act:-- Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian. --Flesh and blood, You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition Expell'd remorse[453-18] and nature;[453-19] who, with Sebastian, -- Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong, -- Would here have kill'd your King; I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art, --Their understanding Begins to swell; and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shore, [454-20] That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them That yet looks on me, or would know me. --Ariel, Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell:-- [_Exit ARIEL. _ I will discase me, [454-21] and myself present As I was sometime Milan:[454-22]--quickly, spirit; Thou shalt ere long be free. 

_ARIEL re-enters, singing, and helps to attire PROSPERO. _

_Ari. _ Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip's bell I lie, -- There I couch: when owls do cry, On the bat's back I do fly After Summer, merrily. [454-23] Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. 

_Pros. _ Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee; But yet thou shalt have freedom:--so, so, so. To the King's ship, invisible as thou art: There shalt thou find the mariners asleep Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain Being awaked, enforce them to this place, And presently, I pr'ythee. 

[Illustration: WHERE THE BEE SUCKS, THERE SUCK I]

_Ari. _ I drink the air before me, [456-24] and return Or e'er your pulse twice beat. [_Exit ARIEL. _

_Gonza. _ All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement Inhabit here: some heavenly power guide us Out of this fearful country!

_Pros. _ Behold, sir King, The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero: For more assurance that a living prince Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body; And to thee and thy company I bid A hearty welcome. 

_Alon. _ Whêr[456-25] thou be'st he or no, Or some enchanted trifle[456-26] to abuse me, As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse Beats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee, Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which, I fear, a madness held me: this must crave-- An if this be at all[456-27]--a most strange story. Thy dukedom I resign and do entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs. [456-28] But how should Prospero Be living and be here?

_Pros. _ First, noble friend, [456-29] Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot Be measured or confined. 

_Gonza. _ Whether this be Or be not, I'll not swear. 

_Pros. _ You do yet taste Some subtilties[457-30] o' the isle, that will not let you Believe things certain. --Welcome, my friends all:-- [_Aside to SEBAS. And ANTO. _] But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, I here could pluck his Highness' frown upon you, And justify you traitors:[457-31] at this time I'll tell no tales. 

_Sebas. _ [_Aside to ANTO. _] The Devil speaks in him. 

_Pros. _ Now, For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive Thy rankest fault; all of them; and require My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know, Thou must restore. 

_Alon. _ If thou be'st Prospero, Give us particulars of thy preservation; How thou hast met us here, who three hours since Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost-- How sharp the point of this remembrance is!-- My dear son Ferdinand. 

_Pros. _ I'm woe[457-32] for't, sir. 

_Alon. _ Irreparable is the loss; and patience Says it is past her cure. 

_Pros. _ I rather think You have not sought her help; of whose soft grace, For the like loss I have her sovereign aid, And rest myself content. 

_Alon. _ You the like loss!

_Pros. _ As great to me, as late;[458-33] and, portable To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker Than you may call to comfort you; for I Have lost my daughter. 

_Alon. _ A daughter! O Heavens, that they were living both in Naples, The King and Queen there! that they were, I wish Myself were mudded in that oozy bed Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?

_Pros. _ In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords At this encounter do so much admire, [458-34] That they devour their reason, and scarce think Their eyes do offices of truth, these words Are natural breath:[458-35] but, howsoe'er you have Been justled from your senses, know for certain That I am Prospero, and that very Duke Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was landed To be the lord on't. No more yet[458-36] of this; For 'tis a chronicle of day by day, [458-37] Not a relation for a breakfast, nor Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir; This cell's my Court: here have I few attendants, And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in. My dukedom since you've given me again, I will requite you with as good a thing; At least bring forth a wonder to content ye As much as me my dukedom. 

_The entrance of the Cell opens, and discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess. _

_Mira. _ Sweet lord, you play me false. [459-38]

_Ferd. _ No, my dear'st love, I would not for the world. 

_Mira. _ Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle, [459-39] And I would call it fair play. 

_Alon. _ If this prove A vision of the island, one dear son Shall I twice lose. [459-40]

_Sebas. _ A most high miracle!

_Ferd. _ Though the seas threaten, they are merciful! I've cursed them without cause. [_Kneels to ALON. _

_Alon. _ Now all the blessings Of the glad father compass thee about! Arise, and say how thou earnest here. 

_Mira. _ O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't!

_Pros. _ 'Tis new to thee. 

_Alon. _ What is this maid with whom thou wast at play? Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours: Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, And brought us thus together?

_Ferd. _ Sir, she's mortal; But by immortal Providence she's mine: I chose her when I could not ask my father For his advice, nor thought I had one. She Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, Of whom so often I have heard renown, But never saw before; of whom I have Received a second life; and second father This lady makes him to me. [460-41]

_Alon. _ I am hers: But, O, how oddly will it sound that I Must ask my child forgiveness!

_Pros. _ There, sir, stop: Let us not burden our remembrance with A heaviness that's gone. 

_Gonza. _ I've inly wept, Or should have spoke ere this. --Look down, you gods, And on this couple drop a blessed crown! For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way Which brought us hither. 

_Alon. _ I say, Amen, Gonzalo!

[Illustration: LOOK DOWN, YOU GODS, ON THIS COUPLE]

_Gonza. _ Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue Should become Kings of Naples! O, rejoice Beyond a common joy! and set it down With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis; And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife Where he himself was lost; Prospero, his dukedom, In a poor isle; and all of us, ourselves, When no man was his own. [462-42]

_Alon. _ [_To FERD. And MIRA. _] Give me your hands: Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart That doth not wish you joy!

_Gonza. _ Be't so! Amen!--

_Re-enter ARIEL, with the _Master_ and _Boatswain_ amazedlyfollowing. _

 O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us: I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, This fellow could not drown. [462-43]--Now, blasphemy, That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore?[462-44] Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?

_Boats. _ The best news is, that we have safely found Our King and company; the next, our ship-- Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split-- Is tight, and yare, and bravely rigg'd, as when We first put out to sea. 

_Ari. _ [_Aside to PROS. _] Sir, all this service Have I done since I went. 

_Pros. _ [_Aside to ARIEL. _] My tricksy[463-45] spirit!

_Alon. _ These are not natural events; they strengthen From strange to stranger. --Say, how came you hither?

_Boats. _ If I did think, sir, I were well awake, I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep, And--how we know not--all clapp'd under hatches; Where, but even now, with strange and several noises Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, And more diversity of sounds, all horrible, We were awaked; straightway, at liberty: When we, in all her trim, freshly beheld Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master Capering to eye her:[463-46] on a trice, so please you, Even in a dream, were we divided from them, And were brought moping[463-47] hither. 

_Ari. _ [_Aside to PROS. _] Was't well done?

_Pros. _ [_Aside to ARI. _] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free. 

_Alon. _ This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod; And there is in this business more than Nature Was ever conduct of:[463-48] some oracle Must rectify our knowledge. [463-49]

_Pros. _ Sir, my liege, Do not infest your mind with beating on[463-50] The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure, [464-51] Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve[464-52] you-- Which to you shall seem probable--of every These happen'd accidents:[464-53] till when, be cheerful, And think of each thing well. --[_Aside to ARIEL. _] Come hither, spirit: Set Caliban and his companions free; Untie the spell. [_Exit ARI. _]--How fares my gracious sir? There are yet missing of your company Some few odd lads that you remember not. 

_Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, intheir stolen apparel. _

_Steph. _ Every man shift for all the rest, [464-54] and let no man takecare for himself; for all is but fortune. --Coragio, [464-55]bully-monster, coragio!

_Trin. _ If these be true spies which I wear in my head, [464-56] here's agoodly sight. 

_Cal. _ O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed! How fine my master is! I am afraid He will chastise me. 

_Sebas. _ Ha, ha! What things are these, my Lord Antonio? Will money buy 'em?

_Anto. _ Very like; one of them Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. 

_Pros. _ Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, Then say if they be true. This mis-shaped knave, -- His mother was a witch; and one so strong That could control the Moon, make flows and ebbs, And deal in her command without[465-57] her power. These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil-- For he's but half a one--had plotted with them To take my life: two of these fellows you Must know and own; this thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine. 

_Cal. _ I shall be pinch'd to death. 

_Alon. _ Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?

_Sebas. _ He is drunk now: where had he wine?

_Alon. _ And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they Find this grand liquor that hath gilded[465-58] 'em?-- How camest thou in this pickle?

_Trin. _ I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last, that I fearme, will never out of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing. [465-59]

_Sebas. _ Why, how now, Stephano!

_Steph. _ O, touch me not! I am not Stephano, but a cramp. 

_Pros. _ You'd be king o' the isle, sirrah?

_Steph. _ I should have been a sore[465-60] one, then. 

_Alon. _ [_Pointing to CAL. _] This is as strange a thing as e'er I look'don. 

_Pros. _ He is as disproportion'd in his manners As in his shape. --Go, sirrah, to my cell; Take with you your companions; as you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. 

_Cal. _ Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter, And seek for grace. What a thrice double ass Was I, to take this drunkard for a god, And worship this dull fool!

_Pros. _ Go to; away!

_Alon. _ Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. 

_Sebas. _ Or stole it, rather. 

 [_Exeunt CAL. , STEPH. , and TRIN. _

_Pros. _ Sir, I invite your Highness and your train To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it Go quick away, --the story of my life, And the particular accidents gone by, Since I came to this isle: and in the morn I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, Where I have hope to see the nuptial Of these our dear-beloved solemnized; And thence retire me[466-61] to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave. [466-62]

_Alon. _ I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely. 

_Pros. _ I'll deliver all; And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, And sail so expeditious, that shall catch Your royal fleet far off. --[_Aside to ARI. _] My Ariel, chick, That is thy charge: then to the elements Be free, and fare thou well!--Please you, draw near. [_Exeunt. _

EPILOGUE[467-63]

SPOKEN BY PROSPERO

 Now my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have's mine own, --[467-64] Which is most faint: now, 'tis true, I must be here confined by you, [467-65] Or sent to Naples. Let me not, Since I have my dukedom got, And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell In this bare island by your spell; But release me from my bands, With the help of your good hands. [467-66] Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please: now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; And my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by prayer; Which pierces so, that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free. 

FOOTNOTES:

[366-1] _Good_ was often used in Shakespeare's time as we use the word_well_, to introduce a sentence. 

[366-2] _Fall to't yarely_ means _get to work briskly_. 

[366-3] Perhaps the line should read, "Blow till thou burst _thee_, wind. "

[366-4] If there is sea-room enough. The boatswain is not alarmed if hecan have room to handle his ship. 

[366-5] We still say "play the man" when we wish to encourage any one tobe brave and manly. 

[367-6] The word _time_ may be understood after _present_. The boatswaininfers that they cannot make peaceful weather of the present storm. 

[367-7] _Hap_ means _happen_. 

[367-8] The word _complexion_ here means _bent_ or _inclination_. Gonzalo says the boatswain is born to be hung; he cannot be drowned. 

[367-9] The boatswain finds he has not sea-room enough so he calls uponthe sailors to take down the topmast and to bring the ship as close intothe wind as possible and hold her there with the main sail. 

[367-10] This sentence means _they are noisier than the tempest and thecommands of our officers_. 

[368-11] Gonzalo still thinks the boatswain was born to be hanged, andwarrants that he will not be drowned. 

[368-12] The boatswain is still trying to bring her to the wind, so shemay get out to sea. The _courses_ are the largest lower sails. 

[368-13] _Merely_, here, means _entirely_ or _absolutely_. 

[368-14] _Glut_ means _swallow_. 

[369-15] These are all plants that grow in England, and were toShakespeare the familiar signs of barren ground. 

[369-16] _The wills above be done_ means _the will of the Powers abovebe done_. Gonzalo interests us from the start by his rather humorousview of everything. 

[369-1] _Welkin_ means _sky_. 

[369-2] _Brave_ means _fine_. 

[369-3] _Or e'er_ means _before_ or _sooner than_. 

[370-4] _Fraughting_ means _freighting_. The human souls were thefreight of the ship. 

[370-5] _Amazement_ means _anguish_ and _deep distress_ rather thanastonishment. 

[370-6] In the time of Shakespeare it was not considered inelegantEnglish to use two forms of the comparative and superlative degrees. _More better_, _most best_ are good examples. 

[370-7] _Meddle_ means _mix_. Miranda says she never thought of knowingmore about herself or her father. 

[370-8] Prospero means that with his garment he lays his magic artsaside and becomes the loving, human father. 

[370-9] Prospero does not complete his sentence, but expresses the samethought in different form. 

[372-10] _Bootless inquisition_ means _fruitless questioning_. Thefather has before begun to tell Miranda who she is, but has interruptedhimself, and said, "Stay, not yet. "

[372-11] _Out_ means _fully_. 

[372-12] Prospero says, in these two lines, "If you can rememberanything that happened before we came here, you may remember _how_ wecame here. "

[373-13] _Holp_ is an old form of _helped_. 

[373-14] _Teen_ is an old word that means _trouble_ or _anxiety_. 

[373-15] _Please you, further_, means _Please you, tell me further_. 

[373-16] _Manage_ means _management_. 

[373-17] _Signiories_ is a name for _principalities_. 

[373-18] _Prime_ means _first_ or _leading_. 

[374-19] _Who_ is used for _whom_, as it was not consideredungrammatical in Shakespeare's day. 

[374-20] _Trash_ means _check_ or _set back_. 

[374-21] _Over-topping_ means _rising too high_. Prospero means that hisbrother knew what persons to check when they tried to rise too high, togain too much power. 

[374-22] The brother understood the _key_ that kept officer and officein tune, and so set the minds of all Prospero's subjects thinking as theusurper wished. That is, Antonio took Prospero's friends away from him. 

[374-23] We would say _so that_ instead of merely _that_. 

[374-24] _To closeness_ means _to privacy_, to studies in his own home. 

[374-25] _But_ in this sense means _except_. 

[374-26] This is a difficult clause to understand. What Prospero meansis probably that his studies would have exceeded all popular estimate invalue, but that they (if they had not) kept him so retired from publiclife. Prospero sees the mistake he made, but cannot give up the ideathat his studies were valuable. 

[375-27] _Sans_ is a French word that means _without_. 

[375-28] _By falsing it_ means _by falsifying it_ or _forging it_. 

[375-29] Shakespeare omits the word _as_ before _to_. Antonio made sogreat a sinner of his memory unto truth as to credit his own lie. 

[375-30] _Out of the substitution_ may be understood to mean _because ofhis being my substitute_. 

[375-31] Prospero's tale is not clearly told. He is evidently thinkingof other things, and his sentences are often imperfect. His mind wandersto the things he intends doing, to the storm, the strangers on theisland and to his plans for the future. Miranda is not inattentive--sheis fascinated by the story--but her father attributes his own wanderingthoughts to her. 

[375-32] Tired of ruling behind a screen, for that is what Prosperoreally was. Antonio planned to remove his brother and become absoluteDuke of Milan. 

[375-33] Shakespeare omits the word _for_ before _me_. 

[376-34] _So dry he was for sway_, might now be written as _so thirstyhe was for power_. 

[376-35] Prospero bewails the fate of his principality, Milan. 

[376-36] The meaning of the last seven lines is that Antonio thoughtProspero incapable of ruling, offered to pay the King of Naples anannual tribute, to do him homage and to make Milan subject to Naples. 

[376-37] _In lieu_ now means _instead of_, but Shakespeare uses it inthe sense of _in return for_. 

[376-38] _Presently_ means _immediately_. 

[376-39] _Practice_ means _plot_ or _stratagem_. 

[376-40] The six lines mean that one midnight, suited to such a plot, atreacherous army having been levied, Antonio opened the gates of Milan, and in the dead of darkness hurried away Prospero and the cryingMiranda. 

[377-41] In this place _hint_ means _theme_ or _subject_. 

[377-42] _Upon's_ is _upon us_. 

[377-43] _Impertinent_ in this connection means _out of place_. 

[377-44] _Wench_ means _girl_, and at the time of Shakespeare was a termof affection, like _dear girl_. 

[377-45] _In few_ may be read as _in a few words_, that is, _to make thestory brief_. 

[377-46] _Hoist us_ means _hoisted us_, that is _left us_. 

[378-47] _Degg'd_ means _sprinkled_. 

[378-48] Shakespeare, as was the custom in those days, often used theword _stomach_ for _courage_; an _undergoing stomach_ is a _lastingcourage_. 

[378-49] _Steaded_ means _aided_. We might say, _which have since stoodus in good stead_. 

[378-50] Readers of Shakespeare dispute about the meaning of thissentence. We might imagine Prospero to say half to himself "Now _Iarise_;" that is, "My turn has come. "

[378-51] _Made thee more profit_, that is, _have made you to profitmore_, have taught you to better advantage. 

[379-52] The _zenith_ is the _highest point_. 

[379-53] Prospero means that if he acts now his fortunes will rise totheir highest point, but that if he waits, he will lose his opportunity. 

[379-54] Prospero, by his magic, throws his daughter into a deep sleepso that he may carry on his plans without her knowledge. 

[379-55] This line may be understood to read, _Ariel, and all spirits ofhis kind_. 

[379-56] _Performed to point_ means _performed in every respect_. 

[379-57] The _beak_ of a ship is the _prow_, the projecting forwardpart. 

[380-58] The _waist_ of a ship is the middle portion. 

[380-59] _Distinctly_ means here _separately_. Ariel caused light globesof flame to appear for a second in different parts of the rigging, andto move about and to join. 

[380-60] _Momentary_ means _instantaneous_. 

[380-61] _Coil_ means _tumult_ or _confusion_. 

[380-62] This clause means _There was not a soul that did not feel sucha fever as madmen feel_. 

[380-63] In this place _upstaring_ means _sticking up_. 

[381-64] For _unstaining_ we would say _unstained_. 

[381-65] _Odd angle_ probably means _out-of-the-way place_. 

[381-66] Probably Ferdinand sat with his arms folded loosely, his headhanging on his breast. 

[381-67] This is a good example of the way Shakespeare sometimes changesthe natural order in which the parts of a sentence should be placed. Naturally the sentence would read: "Say, how hast thou disposed of themariners of the King's ship, and all the rest of the fleet?"

[381-68] _Bermoothes_ is the old form of the word _Bermudas_. It wassupposed that witches haunted the Bermudas and filled the air withtempests, which kept the waters always stormy. _Still-vexed_ means_always stormy_. The present errands of the spirit Ariel are not thefirst he has executed for Prospero. Dew from the Bermudas was probablywanted for some of his magical rites. 

[381-69] To enjoy _The Tempest_, we must lay aside our reason to theextent of believing in charms and in magic, in witchcraft and in Ariel'swonderful powers. Prospero's control of the magic art is part of what hegained from his studies while Antonio was stealing his principality. 

[382-70] _Flote_ is _flood_, therefore _wave_ or _sea_. 

[382-71] This means that it was about two o'clock in the afternoon--pastthe mid-season by about the time it would take the sand to run twicethrough the hour-glass. 

[382-72] _Remember_ here means _remind_. 

[382-73] _Perform'd me_ means _performed for me_. 

[382-74] _Say_ no more. 

[382-75] "To release me a full year before my time is up, " is what Arielsays Prospero has promised. 

[383-76] This speech shows how marvelous are some of the things Arielhas already done for Prospero. 

[383-77] Prospero is not speaking in earnest when he calls Ariel a"malignant thing. " He intends to release Ariel soon. 

[383-78] To Shakespeare and other writers of his time, the word _envy_meant _malice_. 

[383-79] _Argier_ is an old name for Algiers. 

[383-80] _Blue-eyed_ means that the witch had dark blue circles aroundher eyes, not that she had real blue eyes. 

[383-81] _For_ means _because_. 

[384-82] _Hests_ means _behests_ or _commands_. 

[384-83] The witch confined Ariel _in_ a cloven pine tree. 

[384-84] This line means _save for the son that was born here_. 

[384-85] _Correspondent_ means _obedient_. 

[385-86] _Miss_ means _spare_. 

[385-87] _When_ was often used as an exclamation of impatience. 

[386-88] Old meanings for _quaint_ are _artful, ingenious_. 

[386-89] _Wicked dew_ probably means _poisonous dew_. 

[386-90] Caliban, in cursing his master, alludes to the common belief ofthat time that a southwest wind was unwholesome. 

[386-91] _Side stitches_ are _stitches_ or _pains_ in the side. 

[386-92] _Urchins_ were troublesome _sprites_ or _fairies_. 

[386-93] _Vast_ alludes to the middle hours of night when in thestillness and vacancy evil spirits can do their work. 

[386-94] Just what Caliban means here is uncertain. 

[387-95] _Sty_ here means _confine_, as in a sty. 

[387-96] This clause means _did'st not, savage, know the meaning ofthine own words_. 

[387-97] _Rid_ means _destroy_. 

[388-98] _Old_ here, as often in the writings of Shakespeare's time, isused merely to make stronger the meaning of the word that follows it. 

[388-99] _Kiss'd the wild waves whist_ means _soothed the wild wavesinto peace_. 

[389-100] Ferdinand was suffering, and Shakespeare used the word_passion_ to express the idea as we use it in speaking of the Passion ofChrist. 

[389-101] This line means _without suffering a change from the effectsof the sea_. 

[389-102] _Owes_ here means _possesses_. 

[389-103] Prospero speaking to Miranda says, "Lift up your eyelids andtell me what you see yonder. "

[389-104] In this connection _brave_ means _fine_ or _noble_. 

[390-105] _Canker_ means _rust_ or _tarnish_. Prospero says, "Except for the fact that he's somewhat stained with grief, whichtarnishes beauty, you might call him a goodly person. "

[390-106] Miranda, it must be remembered, has never seen any other manthan her father. 

[390-107] Prospero sees his plan going on well and gives Ariel creditfor it. Just what the plan is will soon become apparent. 

[390-108] Ferdinand speaks somewhat aside when he sees the beautifulMiranda, and then directly addresses her. He is embarrassed, calls her agoddess, asks her how he shall behave, calls her a wonder, but aboveall, wishes to know if she is mortal or not. 

[390-109] The word _Miranda_ means _wonderful_

[390-110] "She speaks my language!"

[391-111] _A single thing_ means _a weak and companionless thing_. 

[391-112] _Myself am Naples_ means _I am now the King of Naples_. 

[391-113] Notice that this is the only mention of a son to Antonio, theusurping Duke of Milan. 

[391-114] _Control_ means here _confute_, that is, _tell youdifferently_. 

[391-115] Prospero notices the interest the two young people have takenin each other, and as this furthers his plan he feels more grateful toAriel. 

[391-116] What Prospero says is, "I fear that in claiming to be the Kingof Naples you have done some wrong to your character. "

[392-117] Prospero wishes to test the love he sees in Ferdinand, andmake him earn his prize. So he charges the young man with deceit andthreatens him. 

[392-118] _Fearful_ here means _timid_. 

[393-119] _Ward_ is his position of defense to ward off a blow. 

[393-120] _Nerves_ is here used for _muscles_ and _sinews_. 

[394-1] This word means a ship--the _merchantman_. 

[395-2] A _visitor_ in this sense is one who visits the sick to comfortthem. Antonio and Sebastian are ridiculing Gonzalo for his efforts tocheer and console them. 

[395-3] _Tell_ means _keep tally_. Sebastian means that the clock ofGonzalo's wit has struck one. 

[395-4] _Dolour_ means _grief_ or _sadness_. 

[395-5] Instead of _of he or Adrian_, we would say merely _he orAdrian_. Antonio offers to bet a good sum on which will speak first, Gonzalo or Adrian. 

[395-6] Gonzalo. 

[395-7] _A match_ means _I take the bet_. 

[396-8] Sebastian has lost his bet, and he pays with a laugh. 

[396-9] Adrian means _temperature_ when he says _temperance_. 

[396-10] People often named their girls _Temperance_, _Prudence_, _Faith, etc. _ It is to this fact that Antonio jokingly alludes. 

[396-11] _Lush_ means _juicy_. 

[396-12] _Eye_ here means _tint_ or _shade_. 

[397-13] We would now say _for_ instead of _to_. 

[397-14] Tunis is near the supposed site of Carthage. The story of Didoand Æneas is told in Virgil's _Æneid_. 

[397-15] One of the stories of the god Mercury is that he gave toAmphion, King of Thebes, a magic harp upon which the king played and socharmed the stones that they sprang into place to make the walls of hiscity. 

[398-16] The meaning of _stomach_ in this line is _appetite_ or_desire_. Alonso says they crowd their words into his ears when hisfeelings do not relish such nonsense. 

[398-17] _Rate_ means _estimation_. 

[398-18] _His_ is used for _its_ and refers to _shore_. 

[398-19] For _as_, read _as if_. 

[399-20] _Who_ is used for _which_. This is but another illustration ofthe changes that have taken place in the use of words sinceShakespeare's time. 

[399-21] Sebastian tells the King that he alone is responsible for theloss. Even his daughter weighed her wish to be obedient against herloathing of the match. 

[399-22] _Dearest_ here means the same as _heaviest_ or _worst_. 

[399-23] _Chirurgeon_ is the old word for _surgeon_. Antonio says, "Andin the most surgeon-like manner. "

[400-24] Gonzalo says, literally. "When you are sad, we all share yoursorrow. "

[400-25] "Had I the colonizing" is what Gonzalo means. Antonio makes itappear that Gonzalo was speaking of _planting_ the island. 

[400-26] _Succession_ means _inheritance_, as a son _succeeds_ to hisfather's property. 

[400-27] _Bourn_ means _brook_, hence _boundary_, as of land. 

[400-28] _Tilth_ means _tillage_ or _cultivation_, as of land. 

[401-29] He probably means any _engine of war_. 

[401-30] _Foison_ means _plenty_ of grain or fruits. 

[401-31] The _Golden Age_ is that period of the world's history whenthere was no sin, sorrow or suffering, and when all mankind was so goodthat there was no need of government of any sort. The Greeks, especially, but other peoples to some extent, have mythical tales ofsuch a time. 

[401-32] _Sensible_ is here used for _sensitive_. 

[401-33] Gonzalo admits that in witty talk he is nothing in comparisonto Antonio and Sebastian. 

[401-34] A blow with the _flat_ of a sword is harmless: so is Gonzalo'swit. 

[402-35] We would say _should_ instead of _would_ in this case. 

[402-36] When they used to hunt birds in the night, they called it_bat-fowling_. Sometimes at night they took a light into the woods, andwhile one of the hunters held a net in front of the light, the otherswould beat the bushes round about. Some of the frightened birds wouldfly directly at the light and become entangled in the net. 

[402-37] _Adventure_ here means _put in peril_. 

[402-38] Ariel is at work again, and in carrying out the plans ofProspero, he causes some to fall asleep that the others may plot. 

[402-39] _Omit_ here means _neglect_. Sebastian suggests that it will bebetter for Alonso to go to sleep while he can. He has reasons forwishing the King asleep. 

[403-40] Alonso grows more sleepy under Ariel's influence, and in thesewords alludes to what Sebastian has just said--"It is a wondrous heavyoffer of sleep. "

[404-41] _They_ refers to the other men. 

[404-42] Probably we must understand Antonio to mean, "What might yoube!" In this way Antonio begins to tempt Sebastian, whom he finds readyto listen. 

[404-43] _Speaks_ means _proclaims_. 

[404-44] Antonio says in effect, "You close your eyes when you areawake. You are blind to your opportunity. "

[404-45] "If _you_ heed me. "

[404-46] Antonio means, "Which if you do, you shall be three times asgreat as you are now. "

[405-47] By _I am standing water_, Sebastian means that he is like theocean standing between tides, ready to ebb or flow. That is, he is readyto accept suggestions from Antonio. 

[405-48] Antonio says in effect, "The more you ridicule the purpose Isuggest, the more you welcome it. "

[405-49] _Ebbing men_, that is, _men whose fortunes are at a low ebb_. 

[405-50] _Matter_ means _something of great importance_. 

[405-51] "It is difficult or painful for you to say what you think. "While both have about the same idea in their minds, neither is quitewilling to speak of it openly. It is too cruel and murderous a thought. 

[405-52] Francisco. 

[405-53] That is, "this lord who remembers little of the favors donehim, and will be remembered no better. "

[405-54] _Earth'd_ means _buried_. 

[406-55] A _wink_ here means _the least distance_. 

[406-56] It is difficult to say just what _But doubt discovery there_means. Antonio says, "But out of your certainty that Ferdinand isdrowned, you have a great hope, a hope so high that ambition cannot seeanything greater. "

[406-57] This means _ten leagues farther away than a man can travel inhis life_. 

[406-58] _Can have no note_ means _can receive no word_. 

[406-59] This clause means _unless the sun carried the mail_. 

[406-60] _Though some were cast up again. _

[406-61] This sentence means, _you and I can manage what is to come_. 

[407-62] "_Measure us back_, " etc. , means the same as _Return to us_. 

[407-63] The word _others_ may be understood after _there be_. 

[407-64] A _chough_ is a bird of the jackdaw kind. 

[407-65] This clause means, _I myself could breed a bird to talk assensibly_. 

[407-66] This is difficult to understand. Perhaps it means. "And howdoes your present contentment advance or care for your interest?"

[407-67] _Feater_ means _more fittingly_ or _more becomingly_. 

[408-68] A _kibe_ is a sore on the heel. 

[408-69] _Candied_ means here the same as crystallized. 

[408-70] This means, _while you, doing the same thing, might put Gonzaloto continuous sleep forever_. 

[408-71] _Suggestion_ here means _temptation_. 

[408-72] _They'll tell the clock to any business_, etc. , means _theywill speak any words we tell them to_. 

[408-73] _Draw together_ is _let us draw our swords together_. 

[409-74] That is, _Why are your swords drawn_?

[409-75] This means, _Why do you look so ghastly_?

[410-1] _Inch-meal_ means _piece-meal_. 

[410-2] _Urchin-shows_ are _fairy-shows_. 

[410-3] _Fire-brand_ refers to will o' the wisp, or dancing balls oflight seen sometimes at night in swampy places. People used to thinkthese lights were tended by naughty sprites who lured men into trouble. 

[410-4] We would now say _sometimes_. 

[410-5] _Mow_ means _make mouths_ or _grin_. 

[411-6] _Pricks_, here, means their _prickles_ or _sharp quills_. 

[411-7] Caliban is a monster, part brute, part human, more fish-likethan man-like, probably. He works only when Prospero drives him to it, and he hates his master bitterly in spite of all that the latter hasdone for him. Now Caliban is under punishment for his wickedness. 

[411-8] _To bear off_ means _to keep off_. 

[411-9] A _bombard_ is a black jar or jug to hold liquor. 

[411-10] _Poor-john_ is an old name for dried and salted _hake_, a kindof fish. 

[411-11] Trinculo means that any strange beast could be exhibited andmake a man's fortune. 

[412-12] A _gaberdine_ was a coarse outer garment or frock. 

[412-13] A _swabber_ is a man who scrubs the decks of a ship. 

[412-14] _Tang_ means _sharp taste_; here it means that Kate spokesharply. 

[413-15] _Inde_ may mean India as we understand it, or West India, thatis, America. Stephano probably alludes to the sham wonders from Americathat were often exhibited by lying showmen. 

[413-16] _Neat's-leather_ is _calfskin_. 

[413-17] Stephano means that he will take all he can get. 

[413-18] He alludes to an old saying, "Good liquor will make a cattalk. "

[414-19] This is probably the nearest to a prayer that Stephano canremember in his fright. 

[414-20] This alludes to an old proverb, "He that would eat with thedevil must use a long spoon. "

[414-21] _Siege_ here means _seat_. 

[414-22] A moon-calf was any shapeless monster; supposed to be made sothrough the influence of the moon. 

[415-23] The superstitious Trinculo is still a little afraid thatStephano may be a ghost. 

[415-24] _Constant_ here means _settled_, from his recent experiences inthe sea. 

[415-25] The word _an_ may be omitted from before _if_ without alteringthe meaning. Caliban fears the men may be evil spirits, but thinksStephano must be a god. 

[415-26] _Sack_ is an old-fashioned intoxicating drink. A _butt_ is abig cask holding about two hogsheads. 

[416-27] All these things the fanciful used to think they could see inthe face of the moon. 

[416-28] This probably means that Caliban had taken a long heartydraught at the bottle. 

[417-29] _Pig-nuts_ were probably _ground-nuts_, the small bulbousgrowths on the roots of certain vines. 

[417-30] A _staniel_ is a _kestril_, a beautiful hawk. 

[418-1] Ferdinand says, "Some sports are painful, and the delight wetake in them offsets the labor. "

[418-2] _Baseness_ here means _lowliness_, rather than anything base orevil. 

[418-3] Prospero has set Ferdinand to carrying logs, a hard task and alowly one, to test his love for Miranda, to find out how manly he reallyis. 

[419-4] The meaning of this line probably is that when he works theleast he is really most wearied because he does not have Miranda'ssympathetic words to cheer him, or the sweet thought that he is workingfor her. 

[420-5] _Put it to the foil_, means _put it on the defensive_. Foil wasa general name for swords. 

[420-6] Ferdinand thinks his father has been drowned, but wishes it werenot so, even though he is thereby made King. 

[422-7] The flesh-fly is the blow-fly, which lays its eggs in meat andhelps its decay. 

[422-8] _Hollowly_ here means _falsely_. 

[422-9] We would now say, "_Whatsoever_ else. "

[422-10] Instead of _to want_, we would say _from wanting_. 

[423-11] _Fellow_ here means _equal_. 

[423-12] _Bondman_ may be read for _bondage_. He accepts her aswillingly as a slave ever accepted freedom. 

[423-13] "A thousand thousand _farewells_. "

[423-14] Prospero desires Ferdinand to love and marry Miranda and hasplanned for it, but he is surprised at the suddenness and strength oftheir love. 

[423-1] As in a naval battle one ship runs alongside another, and thesailors leap aboard. 

[424-2] _Set_ means _fixed and staring_. 

[424-3] _Standard_ may be read _standard-bearer_. 

[424-4] Trinculo means that Caliban is too drunk to stand. 

[424-5] Trinculo is always jesting, even at his own expense. He means heis so drunk he would pick a quarrel with a constable. 

[424-6] _Debosh'd_ means _debauched_. 

[425-7] A _natural_ is a fool or a simpleton. 

[425-8] Stephano means "You shall be hanged on the next tree. "

[425-9] As Ariel is invisible, each thinks another has spoken. 

[425-10] "_This thing_" is Caliban himself. 

[426-11] The court fools or jesters of that day wore clothes of manycolors--were _pied_, that is, _dappled_. 

[426-12] _Patch_ is another word referring to the parti-colored clothingof the jester. 

[426-13] The _quick freshes_ are the running springs of fresh water. 

[426-14] _Stock-fish_ is a word used in the writings of that period tomean some kind of a fixture, which men struck with their fists or withcudgels in practicing boxing and fighting. 

[427-15] Stephano speaks first to Caliban, then to Trinculo. 

[427-16] The _weazand_ is the windpipe or throat. 

[427-17] _Sot_ in this place means _fool_, not _drunkard_. Calibanthinks Prospero's books are the source of his magic power over suchspirits as Ariel and those he commands. 

[427-18] _Brave_ here means _beautiful_ or _showy_. 

[428-19] This speech of Ariel's is made aside, that is, out of hearingof the three conspirators. 

[428-20] _Troll the catch_ means _sing the jolly song_. 

[428-21] _While-ere_ means _awhile since_. 

[428-22] "I will do anything reasonable, " says Stephano. 

[428-23] "What is this music I hear?"

[428-24] A common sign in those times was called the picture of Nobody. It consisted of a head upon two legs, with arms. 

[429-25] Stephano probably means, "Take a blow from my fist, " and speaksto the invisible spirit or devil that he now thinks to be near them, because of Ariel's curious interruptions. 

[429-26] _Sometime_ is again used for _sometimes_. 

[430-1] _By our lady!_ was a common exclamation. A diminutive form ofthis was _by our ladykin_ which was contracted into _by our lakin_. 

[430-2] _Forth-rights_ are straight lines. 

[430-3] _Meanders_ are crooked lines. 

[430-4] _Attach'd with_ means _seized by_. 

[430-5] _Frustrate_ means _defeated_ or _baffled_. 

[430-6] _Throughly_ means the same as _through_. Sebastian means thatthe next time he will carry his purpose through. 

[431-7] A _drollery_ was an amusing show of the _Punch and Judy_ kind, where the characters were puppets. In a _living_ drollery, thecharacters would be alive instead of puppets. 

[431-8] The _phoenix_ was a fabled bird of antiquity which lived ahundred years and then died in flames, only to rise young and strongagain from its ashes. There was but one such bird in the world, andsomewhere in Arabia was a tree, different from any other in the world, in which the phoenix built its nest. 

[431-9] _Certes_ means _for a certainty_. 

[432-10] _Muse_ here means _wonder at_. 

[432-11] Probably Prospero alludes to an old saying which meant, "Do notpraise your banquet too soon; wait till it is over. "

[432-12] Among the _strange shapes_ that danced about the banquet weredeformed men from whose throats the flesh hung down in huge pockets, like goitres, and others whose heads grew from their breasts withoutneck and shoulders. 

[432-13] Sometimes in Shakespeare's days they practiced a curious kindof insurance. If a man were going on a long journey, he _put out_ in thehands of agents a sum of money, under the agreement that if he returnedhe was to have a certain number of times the money he put out. If thejourney was perilous, the agreement might call for five times the sum;if a safer journey, perhaps twice the amount. If the traveler did notreturn, the agents kept the sum put out. Gonzalo uses the phrase "_Eachputter-out of one for five_, " to mean each man who goes on a perilousjourney. He means that every traveler returning vouches for, or givesgood warrant for, the wonders he has seen. 

[433-14] Instead of _That hath to instrument_, we might read _That hascontrol of_. The whole sentence means: "You are three sinful men whomDestiny, that rules this lower world and what is in it, has caused thenever-surfeited sea to throw on shore; yes, and on this island which mandoes not inhabit; you who are among men the most unfit to live. "

[433-15] Water closes immediately over any cut made in it. 

[434-16] _Dowle_ means _down_, and the comparison means, _as cut off asingle thread of down from my plumes_. 

[434-17] _Requit_ means here _revenged_. 

[434-18] _Whose_ refers to the word _powers_ six lines before. Themeaning of the remainder of Ariel's speech is as follows: "Nothing butrepentance and a clear life hereafter can guard you from the wrath thatotherwise will fall upon your heads in this desolate isle. "

[435-19] The meaning of the preceding clause is: "Thus with the skill oflife and keen observance of the ways of men, my humbler servants havedone their work, each according to his nature or kind. "

[435-20] _It_ refers to his sin against Prospero. 

[435-21] That is: "It sang my misdeed in a terrible bass. "

[435-22] This clause means: "My son sleeps in the ooze on the bottom ofthe ocean. "

[435-23] _Mudded_ means _buried in mud_. Alonso threatens to drownhimself. 

[436-24] There are said to be poisons which will not work until a longtime after a person takes them. 

[436-25] For _ecstasy_, read _fit of madness_. 

[437-1] _Vanity_ probably means _fine display_. 

[437-2] _With a twink_ means _in the twinkling of an eye_. 

[437-3] _Mop_ means _chattering_. 

[437-4] _Mow_ means _making faces_. _Mop and mow_ were words applied tosuch chattering and grinning as a monkey makes. 

[437-5] A _corollary_ here means _more than enough_. 

[437-6] _Pertly_ means _alertly_. 

[437-7] Iris was the fleet messenger of the Greek gods. She hadbeautiful golden wings, and as she flew across the heavens, she left themany-colored rainbow as her trail. 

[437-8] Ceres was the Greek goddess of the earth, who especially watchedover the growth of grain and fruits. She it is who brings rich harvests, or when her attention is called away, permits drought to kill thevegetation. 

[438-9] _Stover_ is fodder. A mead thatched with stover is a meadowcovered with rich grass and hay. 

[438-10] The common marsh-marigold was called _peony_ in somelocalities. 

[438-11] Reeds were called _twills_ in some localities. 

[438-12] The frequent rains of April make the ground like a water-soakedsponge. 

[438-13] This passage means: "Thy banks with edges bordered withmarsh-marigolds and reeds which rainy April trims to make cold crownsfor chaste nymphs. "

[438-14] _Lass-lorn_ means _forsaken by his lass_. 

[438-15] The poles in a vineyard are _clipt_ or _embraced_ by the vines. 

[438-16] Juno was Queen of the sky and Iris was her special messenger. 

[438-17] Rainbow. 

[438-18] Peacocks were sacred to Juno and are represented asaccompanying her. 

[438-19] Jupiter was the chief god of the ancient Greeks, and Juno washis wife. 

[440-20] _Bosky_ means _wooded_. 

[440-21] _Unshrubbed downs_ are tracts of land on which no bushes grow. 

[440-22] Venus was the Greek goddess of love and beauty. 

[440-23] _Dis_ is another name for Pluto, who according to the Greekmythology ruled in the dismal lower world. 

[440-24] By the aid of Venus, Pluto stole Proserpina, the daughter ofCeres and Jupiter, and carried her away to be his queen in Hades. 

[440-25] Her _blind boy_ is Cupid, the mischievous little god of love. 

[440-26] Paphos was a city in Cyprus, where Venus loved to live. 

[440-27] Juno's walk was very stately and dignified. 

[440-28] Juno was a large, noble, motherly-looking woman, who isrepresented in art as attended by the nymphs and the hours, as well asby Iris. The goose and the cuckoo were as much Juno's birds as thepeacock. She was the protectress of young married people and infants, and so was worshipped especially by women. 

[441-29] _Foison_ and _plenty_ mean about the same thing. The phrasemight be read, _overflowing plenty_, a great plenty. 

[441-30] This means, may a new spring come as soon as you have gatheredthe harvest of the old one. May there be no winter in your lives. 

[441-31] Ferdinand is still amazed, and inquires if they are reallyspirits that he sees. 

[442-32] _So rare a wonder'd father_ means, _so rarely wonderful afather_. 

[442-33] _Crisp_ means _curled_, alluding to the wavelets that thebreezes make on the surface of the water. 

[442-34] The _sicklemen_ are reapers called from the harvest fields tomake merry. 

[443-35] _Avoid_ means _begone_. 

[443-36] The thin fleecy clouds, highest in the sky, were called _rack_. 

[443-37] _On_ is here used for _of_. 

[443-38] We would say _rounded off_ or _finished_. 

[444-39] _I thank ye_ is spoken to Ferdinand and Miranda, and isProspero's reply to their good wishes. 

[444-40] _Meet with_ means _oppose_ or _counteract_. 

[444-41] _For breathing_ means _because it breathed_. In the next line, _for kissing_ means _because it kissed_. 

[444-42] _Unback'd_ means _unridden_. 

[444-43] _Advanced_ means _raised_. 

[445-44] The pool was mantled, or covered over, with filth. 

[445-45] For _that_ read _so that_ or _insomuch that_. 

[445-46] _Stale_ means _bait_. It was a term used by hunters for a baitthat would lure birds. 

[445-47] Caliban. 

[445-48] _Nurture_ can never stick on his _nature_: that is, he cannever be improved by culture or education. 

[445-49] _Cankers_ means _rusts_, or here, _eats into itself_. 

[445-50] It is not known whether _line_ refers to a clothesline or to aline tree. Only Shakespeare himself could tell us to a certainty. 

[446-51] _Play'd the Jack with us. _ "Led us astray as a Jack-o'-lanternmight. "

[446-52] _To hoodwink this mischance_ means _to make it forgotten_ or_overlooked_. 

[446-53] In Hudson's Shakespeare this is explained as an allusion to theold ballad entitled "Take thy old Cloak about thee. " The followingstanza is quoted:

 "_King Stephen_ was a worthy _peer_, His breeches cost him but a crown: He held them sixpence all too dear. Therefore he called the tailor lown. "

[447-54] A _frippery_ was a shop where old clothes were sold. Trinculohas found the clothing Ariel hung upon the line. 

[447-55] _Under the line. _ We can imagine that Stephano has pulled theleather jerkin or coat from the line. When he says _under the line_, hethinks of that as an expression sailors use when they are near theequinoctial line or equator, where the heat is intense, so strong as totake the hair or fur off the coat and make it a _bald jerkin_. 

[447-56] _By line and level_, that is, as architects build, byplumb line and level. Trinculo picks up the word _line_ and makes a newpun on it. 

[448-57] A _pass_ is a _thrust_; _pate_ is _head_. _Pass of pate_ is a_thrust_ or _sally of wit_. 

[448-58] _Lime_ is a sticky substance used to catch birds. 

[448-59] _Barnacles_ here means _barnacle-geese, _ a kind of geesesupposed by the superstitious to be produced when certain barnacles orshell-fish fell into the sea water. 

[449-60] _Pard_ is a contraction for _leopard_; _cat-o'-mountain_ may beanother name for wild-cat, though wild-cats are not spotted. Probablythe term is loosely used to mean any spotted animal of the cat tribes. 

[450-1] _Goes upright with his carriage_ means, _goes erectly under hisburden_, that is, there is time enough to accomplish what Prosperowishes to do. 

[450-2] That is, "In the grove of line-trees which protects your cellfrom the weather. "

[450-3] _Till your release_ means _till you release them_. 

[451-4] In this place _all_ has the sense of _quite_; _relish_ means_feel_; _passion_ has the sense of _suffering_. The meaning of theclause is, that feel suffering quite as sharply as they. 

[451-5] _Neptune_, the name of the god of the seas, is used for _sea_ or_ocean_. 

[451-6] "Fairy rings" are green circles in the grass. They were supposedto be caused by fairies dancing in a circle, but are now known to becaused by mushrooms which grow in circles and which enrich the ground asthey decay. Because it contained some peculiar quality which Shakespearecalls sourness, the sheep would not eat the grass of the rings. 

[452-7] Because mushrooms and toadstools spring up so quickly in thenight, they were supposed to be the work of fairies. 

[452-8] The curfew rings at night, and the fairies rejoice to hear it, for it is the signal for them to begin their frolics. 

[452-9] The fairies are weak masters, that is, they can accomplishlittle if left to themselves, but under the direction of a human mindlike Prospero's they could work such wonders as he describes. 

[452-10] The oak was sacred to Jove (Jupiter), and lightning andthunder-bolts were his chief weapons. 

[452-11] The spurs are the long _roots_ of the pines and cedars. 

[453-12] _Boil'd_ is used for _boiling_ or _seething_. 

[453-13] _Sociable to_ means _sympathizing with_. 

[453-14] _Fall fellowly drops_ means _shed tears in sympathy_. 

[453-15] _Rising senses_ means _clearing mental faculties_. 

[453-16] _Ignorant fumes that mantle_ alludes to the confusion that thecharm has caused in their ideas. The whole passage means simply thatthey are recovering their senses. 

[453-17] This sentence means, _I will reward thee to the utmost_. 

[453-18] _Remorse_ here means _pity_. 

[453-19] _Nature_ here means _brotherly love_. 

[454-20] _The reasonable shore_ means _the shore of reason_. As the tiderises to the shore of the sea, so their clearing thoughts fill theirminds. 

[454-21] _Discase me_ means _remove my disguise_. 

[454-22] _As I was sometime Milan_ means _as I was once, the Duke ofMilan_. 

[454-23] The meaning of the three lines preceding has been muchdisputed. No one knows exactly what the poet meant. Perhaps Ariel singswith this meaning: "When the owls cry and foretell the approach ofwinter, I fly on the back of a bat in a merry search for summer. "

[456-24] Ariel uses this fanciful way of saying that he will go as fastas human thought. 

[456-25] _Whêr_ is a contraction of _whether_. 

[456-26] _Trifle_ here means _phantom_ or _spirit_. 

[456-27] This clause means, _if this be at all true_. 

[456-28] _My wrongs_ means _the wrongs I have done_. 

[456-29] He speaks to Gonzalo. 

[457-30] _Taste some subtilties_ means _feel some deceptions_. 

[457-31] _Justify you traitors_ means _prove that you are traitors_. 

[457-32] _Woe_ here means _sorry_. 

[458-33] _As late_ means _as recent_. 

[458-34] In this place _admire_ means _wonder_. 

[458-35] _Are natural breath_ means _are the breath of a human being_. The lords are still amazed; they cannot reason, they can scarcelybelieve their eyes or that the words they hear come from a living humanbeing. 

[458-36] In this connection _yet_ means _now_ or _for the present_. 

[458-37] That is, it is a story to be told day after day. 

[459-38] Miranda playfully accuses Ferdinand of cheating in the game. 

[459-39] The exact meaning of _wrangle_ has not been determined, andcritics still disagree. However, what Miranda says is, "you might cheatme for a score of kingdoms and yet I would call it fair play. "

[459-40] Alonzo means that if this sight of Ferdinand is one of thewitcheries of the island, he will feel that he has lost his son a secondtime. 

[460-41] And this lady by becoming my wife makes him a second father tome. 

[462-42] That is, "all of us have found our senses, when no man was inpossession of his own. "

[462-43] See Act I--Scene I. 

[462-44] This sentence means, "Now you blasphemous man who swore so onboard the ship that we could be saved, have you not an oath to swear onshore?"

[463-45] _Tricksy_ means _clever_. 

[463-46] _Capering to eye her_ means _dancing with joy at seeing her_. 

[463-47] _Moping_ here means _bewildered_. 

[463-48] _Conduct of_ is used for _conductor_ or _leader of_. 

[463-49] That is, "some wise man must make it clear to us. "

[463-50] This sentence means "Do not trouble your mind by hammering awayat the strangeness of these happenings. "

[464-51] _At pick'd leisure_ is _at a chosen time when we have theopportunity_. 

[464-52] _Single I'll resolve_ means _I will explain singly_. 

[464-53] _Of every these happen'd accidents_ means _how every one ofthese things happened_. 

[464-54] Stephano is still a little drunk and his tongue uncertain inits speech. He means, _Let us every man shift for himself_. 

[464-55] _Coragio_ is used for _courage!_

[464-56] Trinculo means, "If my eyes do not deceive me. "

[465-57] _Without_ here means _outside of_ or _beyond_. 

[465-58] _Gilded_ is a word that was commonly applied to a man who wasdrunk. 

[465-59] Meat that is infested with maggots which have hatched from eggslaid by flies is said to be fly-blown. These will not lay their eggs inpickled meat. Trinculo says he has been so pickled, that is drunk, thatthe flies will not blow him. 

[465-60] Stephano is sore from his torments, but as the word _sore_ alsomeans _harsh_ and _severe_, he makes a good pun in his speech. 

[466-61] _Retire me_ means _withdraw myself_. 

[466-62] Prospero has accomplished his purpose; he has recovered hisdukedom, has found a suitable husband for his daughter, and now feelsthat life has little in store for him. So every third thought will be inpreparation for his death. 

[467-63] The Epilogue is a part spoken by one of the actors after theplay is over, and is addressed to the audience. Here _Prospero_ stepsforward and speaks. 

[467-64] He has dismissed Ariel and laid aside all his magic arts. 

[467-65] The audience may hold him on the island or send him to Naples, for he is still under a spell. 

[467-66] He asks the audience to applaud, to clap their hands, for noisealways breaks charms, and will release him from the enchantment so thathe may return to his dukedom. 

STUDIES FOR "THE TEMPEST"

THE AUTHOR. Many times we have had occasion to say that an acquaintancewith an author has much to do with our liking for his works, and as weread the great plays of our greatest poet, we wish we might know himmore intimately. However, when we look for information concerning him, we quickly find that comparatively little is known of the man beyondwhat we can draw from his writings, and few authors have shownthemselves less vividly. After doing our best, we can find only a great, shadowy Author who must have had a broad knowledge, a rare invention, aprofound insight into human nature, a penetrating sympathy and amarvelous power of expression. As seen through his works, he appearsmore than human, but when we look into our histories, we wonder that sogreat a man could have lived and died, and left so light an impressionon his times. In fact, some wise men have felt that the WilliamShakespeare we know could never have written the great plays that bearhis name. That is a question, however, we need not discuss; it is betterto leave the credit where it has rested for centuries, and believe thatthe plays are better evidence of Shakespeare's greatness than his ownlife is evidence of his ability to write them. 

William Shakespeare was born in Stratford-on-Avon, April 23, 1564. Hisfather, John Shakespeare, was a respectable citizen, a wool-dealer and aglover, who at one time possessed considerable means, and was analderman and a bailiff in the little town, but who later on lost most ofhis property and ceased to be prominent in the affairs of the village. William's mother was Mary Arden, a gentle, tender woman of Normandescent, who exerted a powerful influence over the lives of herchildren. 

Until William was about fourteen years old he attended the free schoolin Stratford, and though there are many legends concerning his boyhoodpranks and his gift for learning, we know practically nothing for acertainty. In one of the desks at the school, they still show theinitials he is supposed to have cut during some idle moment. Of hisyouth we know still less, except that at about eighteen he married AnnHathaway, a farmer's daughter who lived in the village of Shottery, amile or two from Stratford. Ann was eight years older than William, butthey seem to have lived happily and to have loved the children that wereborn to them. 

The next thing we can be really certain of is, that about the timeWilliam was twenty-three he went to London and soon became connectedwith a company of actors. Here the genius of the poet began to makeitself felt. He wrote some plays, he recast others, and by the time hehad been five years in the city, he was prominent among the bright menof his time, and was recognized as a rising man. Unlike most actors andwriters of that period, Shakespeare was not a dissipated man, butattended carefully to his duties, saved his money, and ten years afterhe left Stratford was able to return to his native town and buy a fineestate, to which he added from time to time. His money had not all comefrom his writings and his acting, however, for he owned a large part ofthe stock in the two leading theaters in London. 

About 1604 he ceased to be an actor, although he continued to write forthe stage, and in fact produced his greatest plays after that date. Seven years later he returned finally to Stratford, and there lived aquiet and delightful home life until 1616, when on the anniversary ofhis birth he died suddenly of a fever. He was buried in the littleparish church at Stratford, where his remains rest beside those of hiswife. On the flat stone that covers his body is inscribed this epitaph:

 "Good frend for Iesus sake forbeare, To digg the dvst encloased heare: Blesse be ye man yt spares thes stones, And Cvrst be he yt moves my bones. "

Such are the principal facts that we know concerning the great man, anda simple biography it certainly is. We must not, however, think that hewas not popular among his fellows, or that he was merely a successfulbusiness man. He counted among his friends the wisest and best men ofhis time, and some of them have written their impressions of him. BenJonson, a rough but sincere and honest man, says: "I loved the man, anddo honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He wasindeed honest, and of an open, free nature; had an excellent phantasy, brave notions and gentle expressions. "

THE PLAY. _The Tempest_ was one of the last of the poet's dramas, thoughnot the last, as some writers have contended. It was not printed until1623, after the poet's death, but it was written, according to Hudson, between 1603 and 1613, and probably between 1610 and 1613. 

The story seems to have been original with Shakespeare; at least nosatisfactory evidence has been given to show that he borrowed it. Thisis rather unusual, for Shakespeare showed a fine contempt fororiginality, and borrowed the plots of his plays from a great variety ofsources. His own version of each story, however, was so masterly that noone regrets that he availed himself of all the assistance he could get. 

The scene of the play is laid on an island; what island we do not know. Probably it is as mythical as the events that happened on it. 

_The Tempest_ is one of Shakespeare's most perfect plays. In form it isperfect, and follows, more closely than was customary with him, thestrict laws of the old Greek dramas, the laws which critics still upholdas those governing the highest art. The three unities are here observed:The events all occur in a single day; they happen in a single place;from beginning to end there is one continuous line of thought. Only thelast characteristic is still generally observed by dramatic writers. 

Beside perfection in form, _The Tempest_ shows the greatest nicety inthe way the natural and supernatural move along together without asingle interference. It is difficult to think of the magic art ofProspero as more marvelous than the coarse plotting of Sebastian, or toconsider the delicate Ariel and the mis-shapen Caliban less human thanthe manly Ferdinand, or the honest old Gonzalo. Only a great writercould accomplish this, and none but a genius could make of his work apiece so fine that we delight in every line of it. It would be unfairtoo not to mention the beautiful expressions that abound in it, the highsentiments that prevail, and the great renunciation that Prospero makeswhen he has in his hands every means for swift and terrible revenge. 

CHARACTERS. In reading the drama we become acquainted with thecharacters, and begin to be indifferent toward some, to have admirationfor others and contempt for others. In real life we must not be governedby our first impressions of people. We must study their appearance, their speech, their actions, and make up our minds as to theircharacters before we decide to make them our friends. It is very unwiseto trust every agreeable person we meet, and especially unwise to besuspicious of every person who at first impresses us unfavorably. Theolder we grow, the keener becomes our power to read character, and theless liable we are to be deceived if we try always to use our bestjudgment. One of the great benefits literature can offer us is theopportunity to study character, and Shakespeare had such a remarkableinsight into human nature, and so great a power of drawing characterthat in his plays we can see before us almost every type of human being, and from a study of them we can gain a knowledge of humanity that willhelp us every day of our lives. 

Accordingly, let us take up, one after another, the principal charactersin _The Tempest_ and study them in such a way that we shall be able toread other plays with greater ease and quickened intelligence. 

1. _Prospero. _ The hero of the drama is a man well advanced in years, grave, dignified and serene. As Duke of Milan he was a prince of power, "without a parallel in dignity and knowledge. " He was popular with hissubjects, for so dear was the love his people bore him, that theconspirators did not dare to destroy him. Yet he was not inclined torule his dukedom, for he grew a stranger to his estate, so transportedand wrapt was he in secret studies. He confesses that his library wasdukedom enough for him, and that he had volumes that he prized above hisdukedom. This was his weakness, and upon this his false brother preyed, until one night in the dead of darkness the Duke and the crying Mirandawere set adrift in the rotten carcass of a boat, which the very ratsinstinctively had quit. 

On the island, with the books Gonzalo had preserved for him, hecontinued his studies and played the schoolmaster to his gentle childuntil she was better educated and more highly cultured than otherprincesses that spend more time in vain enjoyments and have less carefultutors. Prospero's love for his daughter is the strong, central traitin his character. He has raised her judiciously, guarded her zealously, and now when he finds, brought to his very door, all the actors in thetragedy of his life, his one great care is to provide for Miranda'shappiness. All his plans lead to that end, and when he has achieved it, the labors of his life are over. 

The supernatural powers that Prospero has acquired seem natural to thestudious, dignified old gentleman, and amazing as they are, we candiscredit none of them. He tells us he caused the storm, and Mirandabegs him to save the passengers on the doomed ship with perfectconfidence in his ability to do it. He causes sleep to fall on Miranda, and he summons the gentle Ariel, who enters as naturally as a humanbeing, and admits the marvelous acts that he has seen Prospero perform. Caliban testifies to the power of Prospero so convincingly that we knowthe magician has control of the destinies of every human being on theisland, and can wreak a terrible vengeance if he is determined to do it. When Ferdinand draws his sword, the magician by a word makes himpowerless as he stands. We see the magic banquet appear and disappear, and Iris, Ceres, Juno, the nymphs and the reapers come and converse, asa proof positive of his more than mortal power. How has he used thispower and how will he continue to use it? When first he came upon theisland it was full of evil, and the powers of darkness ruled. He hasimprisoned and punished the evil spirits; freed the gentle and the good, banished all discord, and filled the island "full of noises, sounds andsweet airs that give delight and hurt not. " That in the future he willuse his vast power only for good, we feel assured. Only Caliban hatesand abuses him, but the testimony of one so wicked rather proves thegentleness, wisdom and justice of the magician. 

Prospero's passionate love for his daughter makes him cunning and wise. Before he will trust his daughter to Ferdinand, he tests both thecharacter and the love of the latter most severely. He even feigns angerand appears to be cruel and unjust. That he is feigning, neithersuspect, but Miranda says: "Never till this day saw I him touch'd withanger so distemper'd, " and "My father's a better nature, sir, than heappears by speech. " When he is assured of Ferdinand's worthiness, of thesincerity of his love for Miranda and of her devotion to her younglover, he is delighted, and becomes so interested in the entertainmenthe is giving them, that he forgets the plot against his life, althoughthe hour of his danger has arrived. It is true the father stoops tolistening, but his purpose is so worthy, no one is inclined to cavil athis watchfulness, and, in any event, his exceeding care but justifiesthe feeling that his love for Miranda is the mainspring of his everyact. 

On this small island Prospero is little less than a god, and controlsaffairs with almost supernatural justice and wisdom. Caliban, theungrateful, terribly wicked monster, is punished unsparingly but withjustice, for in the end with repentance he is forgiven, and the torturescease. Ariel and the other obedient spirits, though reproved at times, are rewarded by freedom and placed beyond the reach of the evil powersof earth and air. 

The sufferings Prospero has endured, the intensity of his studies, andthe fierceness of his struggles with the supernatural powers of evil, have given a tinge of sadness to his thought, and have led him to feelthat the result of all his labors may amount to little. The world is tohim but an insubstantial pageant that shall dissolve and fade, leavingnot the trace of the thinnest cloud behind. And as for ourselves, "We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. "

Yet no sooner does he give way to this feeling than he sees how unkindit is to trouble the young with such musings, and says pathetically toFerdinand, "Sir, I am vex'd; Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled: Be not disturbed with my infirmity. "

It is, however, at the end of the play, when all his plans have beencarried out successfully, and enemies and friends are alike at hismercy, that the character of Prospero shines out most gloriously. Rejoicing at the fruition of his hopes, he asks from his enemies only asincere repentance, and then nobly resigning the great arts which haverendered the plotters powerless, he forgives them one and all: hisbrother Antonio; the scheming Sebastian; Caliban, the evil spirit; andthe two weak but wicked ones, Stephano and Trinculo. Then withgenerosity unparalleled he restores Ferdinand to his father, the King, who has joined with Antonio, and promises to all "calm seas, auspiciousgales and sail so expeditious that shall catch your royal fleet faroff. " Remembering to set Ariel free, he lays aside his magic gown, breaks his staff, buries it fathoms deep in the earth, and drowns hismagic book deeper than did ever plummet sound. Thus he leaves us, only aman once more, but a loving father, a wise and gentle ruler. 

2. _Miranda. _ We have seen that the master feeling in Prospero's soul ishis love for his daughter. Is she worthy of so great an affection? Letus draw our answers from the drama. 

(a) She is beautiful. 

Ferdinand says:

 "Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend!"

And:

 "O you wonder! If you be maid or no?"

Caliban says:

 "And that most deeply to consider is The beauty of his daughter; he himself Calls her a nonpareil: I ne'er saw woman But only Sycorax my dam and she; But she as far surpasseth Sycorax As great'st does least. "

Alonzo says:

 "Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, And brought us thus together?"

(b) She is educated, cultured and refined. 

Prospero says:

 "And here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princesses can, that have more time For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. "

(c) She is tender-hearted, sympathetic and compassionate. 

She says:

 "O, I have suffer'd With those that I saw suffer!"

And:

 "O, the cry did knock Against my very heart!"

Prospero speaks of these traits:

 "Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd The very virtue of compassion in thee, ----"

Speaking of the trials which Prospero puts upon Ferdinand, she says:

 "Make not too rash a trial of him, for He's gentle and not fearful. "

When she learns of her helplessness at the time they were set adrift, she says:

 "O, my heart bleeds To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to. "

When Miranda hears how her father was treated by her false uncle, sheexclaims:

 "Alack, for pity! I, not remembering how I cried on't then, Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint That wrings mine eyes to't. "

(d) She is brave. 

Prospero says of her childhood:

 "O, a cherubim Thou wast that did preserve me! Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from Heaven. "

(e) She is innocent and unacquainted with mankind and hates the sight ofevil. 

When she first sees Ferdinand, she asks:

 "What is't? A spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit. "

Again:

 "I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen More that I may call men, than you, good friend. "

And finally:

 "How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't. "

She says of Caliban:

 "'Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on. "

(f) She is grateful. 

When she is told of Gonzalo's services to her and her father, sheexclaims:

 "Would I might But ever see that man!"

(g) She is a loving, faithful woman:

While Ferdinand is at work she pleads:

 "Alas, now, pray you, Work not so hard, ---- Pray, set it down, and rest you: when this burns, 'Twill weep for having wearied you. "

Again:

 "If you'll sit down, I'll bear your logs the while. "

Later Ferdinand asks, "Wherefore weep you?" Miranda answers:

 "At mine unworthiness, ---- ----Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife, if you will marry me; If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no. "

(h) Lover and father both bestow unqualified praise upon her. Ferdinandsays:

 "Admired Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration; worth What's dearest to the world!---- ----but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best!"

Her father says:

 "O Ferdinand, Do not smile at me that I boast her off, For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise, And make it halt behind her. "

3. _Ferdinand. _ The quotations we have made from the text seem to haveanswered our question as to Miranda's worthiness. Upon what sort of aman has she set her affections? Will she find in her husband the man shethinks she is to marry? Answer these questions for yourselves by readingthe text and setting down the proofs as we did while studying Miranda. 

4. _Ariel. _ Prospero's agent Ariel is an interesting study, for the poethas drawn him with lines so clear and exact that he seems a veritableperson. Will you not seek to know him, and in doing so follow thesesuggestions?

(a) Ariel appears in the following scenes:

 ACT I SCENE II (three times) ACT II SCENE I (twice) ACT III SCENE II (once) SCENE III (once) ACT IV SCENE I (once) ACT V SCENE I (five times)

How many scenes are there in the play? In how many does Ariel appear? Inwhat scenes does he make no appearance? What characters appear moretimes? What characters appear more prominently in the play?

(b) Ariel does many different things. Make a list of the things Arieldoes in this plays and a second list of the things that it appears Arielhas done elsewhere. 

(c) Ariel appears in different forms. What are these forms? Is Arielever visible to any of the characters besides Prospero? Does Ariel everappear visibly to Prospero? If the play were to be acted on the stage, would it be necessary at any time to have a person come upon the stageto represent him?

(d) Ariel has human characteristics. What acts like those of a humanbeing does Ariel commit? What does Ariel say that shows him to havehuman traits?

(e) Ariel is a spirit. What supernatural things does Ariel do? What doesAriel say that makes him seem more than human?

(f) Ariel has a many-sided character. Find in the play where thefollowing questions are answered: Is he faithful? Does he do his dutieswell? Does Ariel love music? Does he feel gratitude? Does he alwaysfavor the right? Is Ariel merry? Does he love fun? Does he playpractical jokes? Does he love warmth and light, or cold and darkness? Ishe sympathetic? Does he lessen the grief of any one? Does he lead anyone to remorse for evil deeds? Does he assist love in the hearts ofFerdinand and Miranda? Do you think Prospero always treats him fairly?Does he seem so light and inconstant that he needs some discipline? Whatwill he do when he is released from Prospero's control? Finally, doesAriel seem lovable to you, would you like him as a friend and companionas well as a powerful servant?

5. _Caliban. _ It is difficult to tell just what the slave of Prosperolooked like, and it is not at all unlikely that the poet intended weshould not see him very clearly. He is a hideous spectacle, scarcelyhuman, yet resembling a man in some respects. He is called in variousplaces villain, slave and tortoise; a moon-calf, that is, a shapelesslump; a fish, with legs like a man and fins like arms; a puppy-headedmonster; a man monster; half a fish and half a monster; a plain fish; amis-shaped knave; "as strange a thing as e'er I looked upon;" and it issaid of him that his manners are as disproportioned as his shape. 

Is the character of Caliban apparently in keeping with his appearance?What does Prospero say of him? Do you place confidence in the opinion ofsuch a man as Prospero, and do you feel that he is not unnecessarilysevere? Does Caliban do anything to justify the bad character Prosperogives him early in the play? Why do you suppose Shakespeare introducesinto the play such a character? Does such a character heighten theeffect of the others?

6. _Other Characters. _ Classify the other characters as good or bad. Where did you place Alonso? Is there any doubt at all as to whereGonzalo should be placed? Are there any redeeming traits in Stephano? Doyou think Trinculo's jesting is really funny? Would you like the playbetter if Stephano and Trinculo were left out of it? What can you findin the boatswain's words to justify the opinion Gonzalo holds of him?Which is the greater scoundrel, Sebastian or Antonio?

THE STORY or PLOT. A certain duke has been by treachery driven from hisprincipality with his infant daughter, and has found refuge on anuninhabited island. After many years those who plotted against him arethrown into his power, he recovers his dukedom and marries his daughterto the son of his king. Such, in brief, is the plot of _The Tempest_, but how wonderfully it is expanded, and how many characters have beencreated, how many incidents created to give interest and truthfulness tothe narrative. Let us follow the play through, and by studying therelation of the incidents, one to another, learn to appreciate morefully the art of the great magician who wrote the play. 

ACT I--SCENE I. _Purpose:_ To introduce the enemies of Prospero. Do weknow at the time of such a person as Prospero? Do we know why thepersons are on the ship, where they intended to go or where they arenow? When do we find out these things? What idea do you get of Gonzaloin the first scene? Why is his conversation with the boatswain put intothe play?

ACT I--SCENE II. _Purpose:_ To bring before us all the leadingcharacters in the play, and to tell us enough about them to secure ourinterest; also to give us the history necessary to an understanding ofthe plot. When do we first learn that there are miracles and magic inthe play? How do we learn what has happened to Prospero before the timeof the storm? How do we learn Ariel's history? How are we madeacquainted with Caliban? How do we learn that Prospero raised the storm?How were the mariners confused, and by whom were all saved? What didProspero whisper in the ear of Ariel when the latter came in afterProspero has called Caliban? What incident followed as a result of thiscommand? How did Ariel lead Ferdinand? Are there other places in theplay where Ariel leads people in the same way? What do you call thethree most important incidents in this scene? What incidents could beleft out of this scene without interfering with the development of theplot?

ACT II--SCENE I. _Purpose:_ To account for the presence of the plotters, and to show the character of the men. Is it necessary to the developmentof the main plot that Sebastian and Antonio should scheme to kill theking? Do any of the incidents of this scene have any direct bearing onthe main plot? Could any of the incidents of this scene be omittedwithout injury to the play?

ACT II--SCENE II. _Purpose:_ To create amusement, lighten the play andby contrast make the fine parts more beautiful. Is any character in thescene absolutely essential to the completion of the story? Would youunderstand the story as well if the entire scene were omitted?

ACT III--SCENE I. _Purpose:_ To disclose Prospero's purpose more fully, and to secure our interest in Ferdinand and Miranda. 

ACT III--SCENE II. What is the purpose of this scene? What bearing dothe incidents of this scene have upon the main plot?

ACT III--SCENE III. What effect is the magic banquet to have on thepersons who saw it? What was Prospero's purpose in showing it? Did itcontribute in any way to the success of his general plan?

ACT IV--SCENE I. What incidents in this scene are necessary, and whatare introduced to give light and beauty to the play? What is the effectof introducing Caliban and his companions right after Ariel and thespirits have been entertaining Ferdinand and Miranda? What are Mountain, Silver, Fury and Tyrant, mentioned in this scene?

ACT V--SCENE I. What is the purpose of this scene? Is the plot broughtto a satisfactory conclusion? Are there any characters left unaccountedfor? Does every character in the play appear in this scene? Are they allon the stage when the curtain falls?

Make a list of the incidents which to you seem unnecessary, which couldbe left out without injury to the real story. Make another list ofincidents that could not be omitted without spoiling the story. Find twolittle plots that make complete stories in themselves, but that helponly in a moderate degree to make the main story clearer. 

POETRY AND PROSE. Do any of the characters speak always in prose? Do anyspeak always in poetry? Do some speak partly in prose and partly inpoetry? Can you see any connection between each character and his methodof speech? How many songs are sung in the play? Who sings them? Do youlike any of the songs? What effect do the songs have upon the play? Canyou find rhyming lines anywhere excepting in the songs? Does anycharacter speak in rhyme?

CONCLUSION. If we study a play too long or continue to read it after ourinterest ceases for a time, we are liable to be prejudiced against it, and to feel that it is not worth the labor we have put upon it. If, however, a person will stop studying when he begins to lose interest andwork seems a drudgery, he will come back a little later with renewedinterest. Again, when we study a play minutely as we have been doing, and view it from many sides, we may lose sight for a time of the unityand beauty of the whole composition. This is peculiarly unfortunate, forthe poet intends us to view his work as a whole, and to produce hiseffect with the whole. It is _The Tempest_ that we will remember as awork of art, and, if our studies are fruitful, that will draw us back toit at intervals for many years to come. Before we leave it, we must takeit and read it through in a leisurely manner, pausing merely to enjoyits beauty, to smile at its playfulness and to feel our hearts expandunder the benign influence of the grand old man Prospero. Now Miranda, Ferdinand and Ariel have passed the line of mere acquaintances, and havebecome to us fast friends, who, though they may be forever silent, haveyet given us a fragment of their lives to cheer us on our way. 

OTHER PLAYS OF SHAKESPEARE. Shakespeare wrote a great many plays, andall are not equally good; a few seem so inferior that many who studythem think they were not written by the same hand that penned _TheTempest_. Some of the plays are more difficult than others, and somecannot be comprehended until the reader has had some experience in life. There are several, on the other hand, that may be read with greatinterest and profit by almost any one, while those who have read _TheTempest_ as we have recommended, should find some measure of enjoymentin all. _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ is a charming fairy story; _TheMerchant of Venice_ is a good story, contains fine characters and showssome of Shakespeare's most beautiful thoughts, although some people areinclined to believe he has dealt too severely with the Jew. _Much AdoAbout Nothing_ is a jolly comedy to match with _The Comedy of Errors_. _Julius Cæsar_, _Richard III_ and _Coriolanus_ are interestinghistorical plays, and _Hamlet_, _Macbeth_ and _Romeo and Juliet_ areamong the best of his tragedies. If a person would read just the playsmentioned in the thoughtful way we have indicated here, he would gain abenefit whose great value never can be estimated, and thereafter allreading would seem easier and more delightful. 

PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES

NOTE. --The pronunciation of difficult words is indicated by respellingthem phonetically. _N_ is used to indicate the French nasal sound; _K_sound of _ch_ in German; _ü_ the sound of the German _ü_ and French _u_;_ö_ the sound of _ö_ in foreign languages. 

 ABOUKIR, _ah boo keer´_ ACHILLES, _a kil´ leez_ ACIS, _ay´ sis_ AIX, _ayx_ AJAX TELAMON, _ay´ jacks tel´ a mon_ ALAMO, _al´ a mo_ ALAMEDA, _ah la may´ dah_ ALAVA, _ah´ la vah_ ALGIERS, _al jeerz´_ ALGONQUIN, _al gon´ kwin_ ALLOUEZ, _al loo ay´_ ALONSO, _a lon´ zo_ ALPUXARRAS, _ahl´´ poo hahr´ ras_ ALVARADO, _ahl vah rah´ do_ ANTIGUA, _an tee´ gwa_ APHRODITE, _af ro di´ tee_ ARDENNES, _ahr den´_ ARGONAUTA, _ahr go naw´ tah_ ARIEL, _ay´ ry el_ AYACANORA, _i a kahn o´ rah_ BOABDIL, _bo ahb deel´_ CADIZ, _kay´ diz_ CANOVA, _kah no´ vah_ CASABIANCA, _kas´´ a bee an´ kah_ CHARLEVOIX, _shahr´´ lev wah´_ CHARYBDIS, _ka rib´ dis_ COLIGNI, _ko´´ leen´´ yee´_, or _ko leen´ yee_ COMMUNIPAW, _kom mun´ y paw_ CORIOLANUS, _kor y o lay´ nus_ COROMANTEES, _ko ro mahn´ teez_ CUNDINAMARCA, _koon´´ dee nam ahr´ kah_ DAMFREVILLE, _doN freh veel´_ D'AUMALE, _do mahl´_ DEMARATUS, _de mar´ a tus_ DENT BLANCHE, _doN bloN´ sh_ DIAZ, _dee´ ahs_, or _dee´ ath_ DIOGENES, _di oj´ ee neez_ DISCOBOLUS, _dis kob´ o lus_ ELIA, _ee´ ly a_ EPHIALTES, _ef y al´ teez_ EURYALUS, _u ri´ a lus_ FERROL, _fer role´_ FINISTERRE, _fin´´ is tayr´_ FLIEDNER, _fleet´ ner_ FRONTENAC, _fron´ te nak_ GALATEA, _gal a tee´ a_ GHENT, _gent_ GONZALES, _gon zah´ leez_ GONZALO, _gon zah´ lo_ GRANADA, _gran ah´ dah_ GRÈVE, _grayv´_ HERNANDO CORTES, _her nahn´ do kor tays´_ HERVÉ RIEL, _her vay´´ ree el´_ IVRY, _eev ree´_ JOLIET, _zho lee yay´_ KIKABEAUX, _kee ka bo´_ KORAN, _ko´ ran_, or _ko rahn´_ LA CHINE, _lah sheen´_ LEIGH, AMYAS, _lee, a mi´ as_ LEONIDAS, _lee on´ y das_ LETHE, _lee´ thee_ LOCHIEL, _lo keel´_ LOUVRE, _loo´ vr´_ MAELSTROM, _mayl´ strum_ MALOUINS, _mah loo aN´_ MARCO BOZZARIS, _mahr´ ko bo tsa´ rees_, popularly _bo zar´ is_ MAYENNE, _mi en´_ MEGISTIAS, _me gis´ ty as_ MIAMIS, _mi ah´ miz_ MICHILLIMACKINAC, _mee´´ shil y mack´ in ak_ MIGUEL, _mee gayl´_ MILAN, _mil´ an_, or _mil an´_ MYCENAE, _mi see´ nee_ NACOGDOCHES, _nak o do´ chez_ NAVARRE, _nah vahr´_ NOMBRE DE DIOS, _nom´ bray day de os´_ NYACK, _ni´ ak_ OETA, _ee´ ta_ OLMEDO, _ol may´ do_ ORCHOMENUS, _or kom´ ee nus_ ORDAZ, _or dath´_ PEDRILLO, _pay dreel´ yo_ PELOPONNESUS, _pel´´ o pon nee´ sus_ PERE MARQUETTE, _payr mar ket´_ PHOENICIANS, _fee nish´ anz_ PICARDY, _pik´ ar dy_ PIZARRO, _pee zahr´ ro_ PLATÆA, _pla tee´ a_ PLUTARCH, _plu´ tark_ PROSPERO, _pros´ pe ro_ PUEBLO NUEVA, _pweb´ lah nuay´ va_ ROCHEFORT, _rosh for´_ ST. GÉNÉVIÈVE, _saN zhen´´ vy ayv´_ SALTO DE ALVARADO, _sahl´´ to day ahl vah rah´ do_ SAN ANTONIO DE BEXAR, _day bay hahr´_ SANDOVAL, _sahn do vahl´_ SAN JACINTO, _san ja sin´ to_ SANTA FÉ, _san´´ ta fay´_ SAULT SAINTE MARIE, _soo saint may´ ry_ SCYLLA, _sil´ la_ SEGUIN, _se geen´_ STUYVESANT, _sti´ ves sant_ TALADEGA, _tah lah day´ ga_ TEGEA, _tee´ gee a_ TEMERAIRE, _tem e rayr´_ THERMOPYLAE, _thur mop´ y lee_ TLASCALANS, _tlahs kah´ lahns_ TOURVILLE, _toor veel´_ TRAFALGAR, _traf al gahr´_ or _tra fal´ gar_ TYROLESE, _tir ol ees´_ VIGO, _vee´ go_ VILLENEUVE, _veel neuv´_ WILHELMUS KIEFT, _vil hel´ mus keeft´_ XENIL, _hay´ neel_ XERXES, _zurks´ eez_

 Transcriber's Note

 Corrections

 Page Error 36 bring them to me? changed to bring them to me?' 310 dreadful ery changed to dreadful cry 336 Footnote 6 was skipped in numbering the footnotes in this section. 379 his fortune changed to his fortunes 391 The marker for footnote 391-115 was missing in the original book. It was inserted based on context. 424 _CALIBAN drinks. _ changed to [_CALIBAN drinks. _ 430 _Aside_ to changed to _Aside to_ 430 SEBAS. [_Aside_ changed to _Sebas. _ [_Aside_ 431 The _phoenix_ was changed to The _phoenix_ was 478 cherubim changed to cherubim 490 Demartus changed to Demaratus 491 Plataea was changed to Platæa

 Other comments

 180 Footnote for 180-3 was printed on 181 340 Footnotes 340-14 and 340-15 were printed on 341 413 Footnote 413-18 was originally printed on 414 440 Footnote 440-28 was originally printed on 441

 Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation:

 bowsprit / bow-sprit Cæsars / Caesars Cortés / Cortes Fe / Fé Hardkoppig / Hard-Koppig hillside / hill-side lifelong / life-long misshapen / mis-shapen Moskoestrom / Moskoe-strom negroes / Negroes Père / Pere Schermerhorns / Schermerhornes southwest / south-west spiérs / spiers Thermopylæ / Thermopylae thunderbolt / thunder-bolt thunderbolts / thunderbolts topmast / top-mast upstaring / up-staring waterside / water-side