JII




IPRHtI-SINTEI) TO
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BY
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1kniccerbocher 1Ruogets
NUGGET-" A diminutive mass of precious metal."
33 WORKS NOW READY.
For full list see end of this volume








'1


Dolph Heyliger and the Doctor.




U. -      RI l ' —iiii.  ^


TALES FROM IRVING
SELECTED FROM
" THE SKETCH BOOK," " TALES OF A TRAVELLER,"
" WOLFERT'S ROOST," "BRACEBRIDGE HALL "
SECOND SERIES


NEW YORK AND LONDON
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Eb~e Iftnfckerbocker Pregs


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CONTENTS.
WOLFERT WEBBER, OR GOLDEN DREAMS...1
MOUNTJOY......... 89
THE EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD, 158
LEGEND OF THE ENGULPHED CONVENT... 213
THE PHANTOM ISLAND...222
-THE STUDENT OF SALAMANCA...       255
DOLPH HEYLIGER...        371
Vo!. tI.-i




I..
i
I




TALES FROM IRVING
WOLFERT WEBBER, OR GOLDEN
DREAMS.
N the year of grace one thousand seven hundred and-blank-for I do not remember
the precise date,-however, it was somewhere in
the early part of the last century, there lived in
the ancient city of the Manhattoes a worthy
burgher, Wolfert Webber by name. He was
descended from old Cobus Webber of the Brille
in Holland, one of the original settlers, famous
for introducing the cultivation of cabbages, and
who came over to the province during the protectorship of Oloffe Van Kortlandt, otherwise
called the Dreamer.
The field in which Cobus Webberfirst planted
himself and his cabbages had remained ever
since in the family, who continued in the same
line of husbandry, with that praiseworthy perseverance for which our Dutch burghers are
noted. The whole family genius, during several generations, was devoted to the study and




2           taIes trom Irvitng
development of this one noble vegetable; and
to this concentration of intellect may doubtless
be ascribed the prodigious renown to which the
Webber cabbages attained.
The Webber dynasty continued in uninterrupted succession; and never did a line give
more unquestionable proofs of legitimacy. The
eldest son succeeded to the looks, as well as the
territory of his sire; and had the portraits of
this line of tranquil potentates been taken, they
would have presented a row of heads marvellously resembling in shape and magnitude the
vegetables over which they reigned.
The seat of government continued unchanged
in the family mansion: a Dutch-built house,
with a front, or rather gable-end of yellow brick,
tapering to a point, with the customary iron
weathercock at the top. Every thing about the
building bore the air of long-settled ease and
security. Flights of martins peopled the little
coops nailed against its walls, and swallows
built their nests under the eaves; and every
one knows that these house-loving birds bring
good luck to the dwelling where they take up
their abode. In a bright summer morning, in
early summer, it was delectable to hear their
cheerful notes, as they sported about in the pure
sweet air, chirping forth, as it were, the greatness and prosperity of the Webbers.




M1oltcrt Wellbber


3


Thus quietly and comfortably did this excellent family vegetate under the shade of a mighty
buttonwood tree, which by little and little grew
so great as entirely to overshadow their palace.
The city gradually spread its suburbs round
their domain. Houses sprang up to interrupt
their prospects. The rural lanes in the vicinity
began to grow into the bustle and populousness
of streets; in short, with all the habits of rustic
life they began to find themselves the inhabitants of a city. Still, however, they maintained
their hereditary character, and hereditary possessions, with all the tenacity of petty German
princes in the midst of the empire. Wolfert
was the last of the line, and succeeded to the
patriarchal bench at the door, under the family
tree, and swayed the sceptre of his fathers, a
kind of rural potentate in the midst of the
metropolis.
To share the cares and sweets of sovereignty,
he had taken unto himself a helpmate, one of
that excellent kind called stirring women; that
is to say, she was one of those notable little
housewives who are always busy where there is
nothing to do. Her activity, however, took one
particular direction: her whole life seemed devoted to intense knitting; whether at home or
abroad, walking or sitting, her needles were
continually in motion, and it is even affirmed




4           UaIes from Irving
that by her unwearied industry she very nearly
supplied her household with stockings throughout the year. This worthy couple were blessed
with one daughter, who was brought up with
great tenderness and care; uncommon pains
had been taken with her education, so that she
could stitch in every variety of way, make all
kinds of pickles and preserves, and mark her
own name on a sampler. The influence of her
taste was seen also in the family garden, where
the ornamental began to mingle with the useful; whole rows of fiery marigolds and splendid
hollyhocks bordered the cabbage-beds, and gigantic sunflowers lolled their broad jolly faces
over the fences, seeming to ogle most affectionately the passer-by.
Thus reigned and vegetated Wolfert Webber
over his paternal acres, peacefully and contentedly. Not but that, like all other sovereigns,
lie had his occasional cares and vexations. The
growth of his native city sometimes caused him
annoyance. His little territory gradually became hemmed in by streets and houses, which
intercepted air and sunshine. He was now and
then subjected to the interruptions of the border population that infest the streets of a metropolis, who would make midnight forays into
his dominions, and carry off captive whole platoons of his noble subjects. Vagrant swine




Moltert Webber             5
would make a descent, too, now and then, when
the gate was left open, and lay all waste before
them; and mischievous urchins would decapitate the illustrious sunflowers, the glory of the
garden, as they lolled their heads so fondly over
the walls. Still all these were petty grievances
which might now and then ruffle the surface of
his mind, as a summer breeze will ruffle the
surface of a mill-pond, but they could not disturb
the deep-seated quiet of his soul. He would
but seize a trusty staff, that stood behind the
door, issue suddenly out, and annoint the back
of the aggressor, whether pig or urchin, and
then return within doors, marvellously refreshed
and tranquillized.
The chief cause of anxiety to honest Wolfert,
however, was the growing prosperity of the
city. The expenses of living doubled and
trebled; but he could not double and treble the
magnitude of his cabbages, and the number of
competitors prevented the increase of price;
thus, therefore, while every one around him
grew richer, Wolfert grew poorer, and he could
not, for the life of him, perceive how the evil
was to be remedied.
This growing care, which increased from day
to day, had its gradual effect upon our worthy
burgher; insomuch, that it at length implanted
two or three wrinkles in his brow; things un



6


'C~aIe  from   urpilng


known before in the family of the Webbers;
and it seemed to pinch up the corners of his
cocked hat into an expression of anxiety, totally
opposite to the tranquil, broad-brimmed, lowcrowned beavers of his illustrious progenitors.
Perhaps even this would not have materially
disturbed the serenity of his mind, had he had
only himself and his wife to care for; but there
was his daughter gradually growing to maturity;
and all the world knows that when daughters
begin to ripen, no fruit nor flower requires so
much looking after. I have no talent at describing female charms, else fain would I depict
the progress of this little Dutch beauty. How
her blue eyes grew deeper and deeper, and her
cherry lips redder and redder; and how she
ripened and ripened, and rounded and rounded
in the opening breath of sixteen summers, until, in her seventeenth spring, she seemed ready
to burst out of her bodice, like a half-blown
rosebud.
Ah, well-a-day! could I but show her as she
was then, tricked out on a Sunday morning, in
the hereditary finery of the old Dutch clothespress, of which her mother had confided to her
the key.  The wedding-dress of her grandmother, modernized for use, with sundry ornaments, handed down as heirlooms in the family.
Her pale brown hair smothered with buttermilk




'loltert Webber             7
in flat waving lines on each side of her fair forehead. The chain of yellow virgin gold, that
encircled her neck; the little cross, that just
rested at the entrance of a soft valley of happiness, as if it would sanctify the place. Thebut, pooh!-it is not for an old man like me to
be prosing about female beauty; suffice it to
say, Amy had attained her seventeenth year.
Long since had her sampler exhibited hearts in
couples desperately transfixed with arrows, and
true lovers' knots worked in deep-blue silk;
and it was evident she began to languish for
some more interesting occupation than the rearing of sunflowers or picking of cucumbers.
At this critical period of female existence,
when the heart within a damsel's bosom, like
its emblem, the miniature which hangs without, is apt to be engrossed by a single image, a
new visitor began to make his appearance under
the roof of Wolfert Webber. This was Dirk
Waldron, the only son of a poor widow, but
who could boast of more fathers than any lad
in the province, for his mother had had four
husbands, and this only child; so that though
born in her last wedlock, he might fairly claim
to be the tardy fruit of a long course of cultivation. This son of four fathers united the merits
and the vigor of all his sires. If he had not
had a great family before him, he seemed likely




8


tales from  nrving


to have a great one after him, for you had only
to look at the fresh bucksome youth to see that
he was formed to be the founder of a mighty
race.
This youngster gradually became an intimate
visitor of the family. He talked little, but he
sat long. He filled the father's pipe when it
was empty, gathered up the mother's knittingneedle, or ball of worsted when it fell to the
ground; stroked the sleek coat of the tortoiseshell cat, and replenished the tea-pot for the
daughter from the bright copper kettle that
sang before the fire.  All these quiet little
offices may seem of trifling import; but when
true love is translated into Low Dutch, it is in
this way that it eloquently expresses itself.
They were not lost upon the Webber family.
The winning youngster found marvellous favor
in the eyes of the mother; the tortoise-shell
cat, albeit the most staid and demure of her
kind, gave indubitable signs of approbation of
his visits; the tea-kettle seemed to sing out a
cheering note of welcome at his approach; and
if the sly glances of the daughter might be rightly read, as she sat bridling and dimpling, and
sewing by her mother's side, she was not a whit
behind Dame Webber, or grimalkin, or the teakettle, in good-will.
Wolfert alone saw nothing of what was going




Molfert Webber


9


on. Profoundly wrapt up in meditation on the
growth of the city and his cabbages, he sat looking in the fire, and puffing his pipe in silence.
One night, however, as the gentle Amy, according to custom, lighted her lover to the outer
door, and he, according to custom, took his
parting salute, the smack resounded so vigorously through the long, silent entry, as to startle
even the dull ear of Wolfert. He was slowly
roused to a new source of anxiety. It had never
entered into his head that this mere child, who,
as it seemed, but the other day had been climbing about his knees, and playing with dolls and
baby-houses, could all at once be thinking of
lovers and matrimony. He rubbed his eyes,
examined into the fact, and really found that,
while he had been dreaming of other matters,
she had actually grown to be a woman, and
what was worse, had fallen in love. Here arose
new cares for NVolfert. He was a kind father,
but a prudent man. The young man was a lively, stirring lad; but then he had neither money
nor land. Wolfert's ideas all ran in one channel; and he saw no alternative in case of a marriage but to portion off the young couple with
a corner of his cabbage-garden, the whole of
which was barely sufficient for the support of
his family.
Like a prudent father, therefore, he deter



10


Cales from Irvtng


mined to nip this passion in the bud, and forbade the youngster the house; though sorely
did it go against his fatherly heart, and many a
silent tear did it cause in the bright eye of his
daughter. She showed herself, however, a pattern of filial piety and obedience. She never
pouted and sulked; she never flew in the face
of parental authority; she never flew into a
passion, nor fell into hysterics, as many romantic novel-read young ladies would do.  Not
she, indeed! She was none such heroical rebellious trumpery, I '11 warrant ye. On the contrary, she acquiesced like an obedient daughter,
shut the street-door in her lover's face, and if
ever she did grant him an interview, it was
either out of the kitchen-window, or over the
garden-fence.
Wolfert was deeply cogitating these matters
in his mind, and his brow wrinkled with unusual
care, as he wended his way one Saturday afternoon to a rural inn, about two miles from the
city. It was a favorite resort of the Dutch part
of the community, from being always held by a
Dutch line of landlords, and retaining an air and
relish of the good old times. It was a Dutchbuilt house, that had probably been a country
seat of some opulent burgher in the early time
of the settlement. It stood near a point of land
called Corlear's Hook, which stretches out into




Me~oltert      'WQebber


II


the Sound, and against which the tide, at its
flux and reflux sets with extraordinary rapidity.
The venerable and somewhat crazy mansion was
distinguished from afar by a grove of elms and
sycamores that seemed to wave a hospitable
invitation, while a few weeping-willows, with
their dank, drooping foliage, resembling falling waters, gave an idea of coolness, that rendered it an attractive spot during the heats of
summer.
Here, therefore, as I said, resorted many of
the old inhabitants of the Manhattoes, where,
while some played at shuffle-board and quoits
and ninepins, others smoked a deliberate pipe,
and talked over public affairs.
It was on a blustering autumnal afternoon
that Wolfert made his visit to the inn. The
grove of elms and willows was stripped of its
leaves, which whirled in rustling eddies about
the fields. The ninepin alley was deserted, for
the premature chilliness of the day had driven
the company within doors. As it was Saturday
afternoon, the habitual club was in session,
composed principally of regular Dutch burghers, though mingled occasionally with persons
of various character and country, as is natural
in a place of such motley population.
Beside the fireplace, in a huge leather-bottomed armchair, sat the dictator of this little




I2         taleo from tlrving
world, the venerable Rem, or, as it was pronounced, Ramm Rapelye. He was a man of
Walloon race, and illustrious for the antiquity
of his line; his great-grandmother having been
the first white child born in the province. But
he was still more illustrious for his wealth and
dignity; he had long filled the noble office of
alderman, and was a man to whom the governor
himself took off his hat. He had maintained
possession of the leather-bottomed chair from
time immemorial; and had gradually waxed in
bulk as he sat in his seat of government, until
in the course of years he filled its whole magnitude. His word was decisive with his subjects;
for he was so rich a man that he was never
expected to support any opinion by argument.
The landlord waited on him with peculiar officiousness; not that he paid better than his neighbors, but then the coin of a rich man seems
always to be so much more acceptable. The
landlord had ever a pleasant word and a joke to
insinuate in the ear of the august Ramm. It is
true, Ramm never laughed, and, indeed, ever
maintained a mastiff-like gravity, and even surliness of aspect; yet he now and then rewarded
mine host with a token of approbation; which,
though nothing more nor less than a kind of
grunt, still delighted the landlord more than
a broad laugh from a poorer man.




WI1olfert 'lebber          I3
"This will be a rough night for the moneydiggers," said mine host, as a gust of wind
howled round the house, and rattled at the
windows.
"What! are they at their works again?"
said an English half-pay captain, with one eye,
who was a very frequent attendant at the inn.
"Aye, are they," said the landlord, "and
well they may be. They 've luck of late.
They say a great pot of money has been dug up
in the fields, just behind Stuyvesant's orchard.
Folks think it must have been buried there in
old times, by Peter Stuyvesant, the Dutch governor. ''
"Fude! " said the one-eyed man of war, as
he added a small portion of water to a bottom
of brandy.
"Well, you may believe it or not, as you
please," said mine host, somewhat nettled;
"but everybody knows that the old governor
buried a great deal of his money at the time of
the Dutch troubles, when the English red-coats
seized on the province. They say, too, the old
gentleman walks; aye, and in the very same
dress that he wears in the picture that hangs up
in the family house."
" Fudge! " said the half-pay officer.
"Fudge, if you please! But did n't Corney
Van Zandt see him at midnight, stalking about




14


Cales from llrvinig


in the meadow with his wooden leg, and a
drawn sword in his hand, that flashed like fire?
And what can he be walking for, but because
people have been troubling the place where he
buried his money in old times?"
Here the landlord was interrupted by several
guttural sounds from Ramm Rapelye, betokening that he was laboring with the unusual production of an idea. As he was too great a man
to be slighted by a prudent publican, mine host
respectfully paused until he should deliver
himself. The corpulent frame of this mighty
burgher now gave all the symnptoms of a volcanic mountain on the point of an eruption.
First, there was a certain heaving of the abdomen, not unlike an earthquake; then was
emitted a cloud of tobacco-smoke from that
crater, his mouth; then there was a kind of
rattle in the throat, as if the idea were working
its way up through a region of phlegm; then
there were several disjointed members of a
sentence thrown out, ending in a cough; at
length his voice forced its way into a slow but
absolute tone of a man who feels the weight of
his purse, if not of his ideas; every portion of
his speech being marked by a testy puff of tobacco-smoke.
"Who talks of old Peter Stuyvesant's walking?-puff-Have people no respect for per



Moflofert MaXebber


15


sons?-puff- puff- Peter Stuyvesant knew
better what to do with his money than to
bury it-puff-I know the Stuyvesant family
-puff-every one of them-puff-not a more
respectable family in the province-puff-old
standards -puff-warm householders-puffnone of your upstarts-puff-puff-puff. Don't
talk to me of Peter Stuyvesant's walking-puff
-puff-puff-puff."
Here the redoubtable Ramm contracted his
brow, clasped up his mouth till it wrinkled at
each corner, and redoubled his smoking with
such vehemence, that the cloudy volumes soon
wreathed round his head, as the smoke envelops
the awful summit of Mount.Etna.
A general silence followed the sudden rebuke
of this very rich man. The subject, however,
was too interesting to be readily abandoned.
The conversation soon broke forth again from
the lips of Peechy Prauw Van Hook, the chronicler of the club, one of those prosing, narrative
old men who seem to be troubled with an incontinence of words, as they grow old.
Peechy could, at any time, tell as many
stories in an evening as his hearers could digest
in a month. He now resumed the conversation
by affirming that, to his knowledge, money had
at different times been digged up in various
parts of the island. The lucky persons who
Vol. I.-2




i6         Cales from ffrving
had discovered them had always dreamt of
them three times beforehand, and what was
worthy of remark, those treasures had never
been found but by some descendant of the good
old Dutch families, which clearly proved that
they had been buried by Dutchmen in the
olden time.
"Fiddlestick with your Dutchmen!" cried
the half-pay officer.  " The Dutch had nothing
to do with them. They were all buried by Kidd
the pirate, and his crew."
Here a key-note was touched that roused the
whole company. The name of Captain Kidd
was like a talisman in those times, and was
associated with a thousand marvellous stories.
The half-pay officer took the lead, and in his
narrations fathered upon Kidd all the plunderings and exploits of Morgan, Blackbeard, and
the whole list of bloody buccaneers.
The officer was a man of great weight among
the peaceable members of the club, by reason of
his warlike character and gunpowder tales. All
his golden stories of Kidd, however, and of the
booty he had buried, were obstinately rivalled
by the tales of Peechy Prauw, who, rather than
suffer his Dutch progenitors to be eclipsed by a
foreign freebooter, enriched every field and shore
in the neighborhood with the hidden wealth
of Peter Stuyvesant and his contemporaries.




Moolfert 'CZlebber


r7


Not a word of this conversation was lost upon
Wolfert Webber. He returned pensively home,
full ofmagnificent ideas. The soil of his native
island seemed to be turned into gold dust, and
every field to teem with treasure. His head
almost reeled at the thought how often he
must have heedlessly rambled over places
where countless sums lay, scarcely covered by
the turf beneath his feet. His mind was in an
uproar with this whirl of new ideas. As he
came in sight of the venerable mansion of his
forefathers, and the little realm where the Webbers had so long and so contentedly flourished,
his gorge rose at the narrowness of his destiny.
"Unlucky Wolfert! " exclaimed he; "others
can go to bed and dream themselves into whole
mines of wcalth; they have,but to seize a spade
in the morning and turn up doubloons like
potatoes; but thou must dream of hardships,
and rise to poverty,-must dig thy field from
year's end to year's end, and yet raise nothing
but cabbages! "
Wolfert Webber went to bed with a heavy
heart; and it was long before the golden visions
that disturbed his brain permitted him to sink
into repose. The same visions, however, extended into his sleeping thoughts, and assumed
a more definite form. He dreamt that he had
discovered an immense treasure in the centre




18      'ales from Irvitt
of his garden. At every stroke of the spade
he laid bare a golden ingot; diamond crosses
sparkled out of the dust; bags of money turned
up their bellies, corpulent with pieces-of-eight,
or venerable doubloons; and chests, wedged
close with moidores, ducats, and pistareens,
yawned before his ravished eyes, and vomited
forth their glittering contents.
Wolfert awoke a poorer man than ever. He
had no heart to go about his daily concerns,
which appeared so paltry and profitless; but sat
all day long in the chimney-corner, picturing to
himself ingots and heaps of gold in the fire.
The next night his dream was repeated. He
was again in his garden, digging, and laying
open stores of hidden wealth. There was something very singular in this repetition.  He
passed another day of revery, and though it was
cleaning-day, and the house, as usual in Dutch
households, completely topsy-turvy, yet he sat
unmoved amidst the general uproar.
The third night he went to bed with a palpitating heart.  He put on his red night-cap
wrong side outwards, for good luck. It was
deep midnight before his anxious mind could
settle itself into sleep. Again the golden dream
was repeated, and again he saw his garden
teeming with ingots and money-bags.
Wolfert rose the next morning in complete




Tlolfert Wlebber


I9


bewilderment;- A dream, three times repeated,
was never known to lie; and if so, his fortune
was made.
In his agitation he put on his waistcoat with
the hind part before, and this was a corroboration of good luck. He no longer doubted that
a huge store of money lay buried somewhere in
his cabbage-field, coyly waiting to be sought
for; and he repined at having so long been
scratching about the surface of the soil instead
of digging to the centre.
He took his seat at the breakfast-table full of
these speculations; asked his daughter to put a
lump of gold into his tea, and on handing his
wife a plate of slap-jacks, begged her to help
herself to a doubloon.
His grand care now was how to secure this
immense treasure without its being known. Instead of his working regularly in his grounds in
the daytime, he now stole from his bed at night,
and with spade and pickaxe went to work to rip
up and dig about his paternal acres, from one
end to the other. In a little time the whole
garden, which had presented such a goodly and
regular appearance, with its phalanx of cabbages, like a vegetable army in battle array,
was reduced to a scene of devastation; while
the relentless Wolfert, with night-cap on head,
and lantern and spade in hand, stalked through




20


20         Uales ftrom     11rv'tng


the slaughtered ranks, the destroying angel of
his own vegetable world.
Every morning bore testimony to the ravages
of the preceding night in cabbages of all ages
and conditions, from the tender sprout to the
full-grown head, piteously rooted from their
quiet beds like worthless weeds, and left to
wither in the sunshine. Iln vain W\olfert's wife
remonstrated; in vain his darling daughter
wept over the destnruction of some favorite marigold.  "Thou shalt have gold of another guess
sort," he would cry, chucking her under the
chin; "thou shalt have a string of crooked
ducats for thy wedding necklace, my child."
His family began really to fear that the poor
man's wits were diseased. He muttered in his
sleep at night about mines of wealth, about
pearls and diamonds, and bars of gold.  In the
daytime he was moody and abstracted, and
walked about as if in a trance. Dame Webber
held frequent councils with all the old women
of the neighborhood; scarce an hour in the day
but a knot of them might be seen wagging their
white caps together round her door, while the
poor woman made some piteous recital. The
daughter, too, was fain to seek for more frequent consolation from the stolen interviews of
her favored swain, Dirk Waldron. The delectable little Dutch songs, with which she used




Moflofert  WQeb'ber


2r


to dulcify the house, grew less and less frequent,
and she would forget her sewing, and look wistfully in her father's face as he sat pondering by
the fireside. Wolfert caught her eye one day
fixed on him thus anxiously, and for a moment
was roused from his golden reveries.  " Cheer
up, my girl," said he, exultingly; "why dost
thou droop? - thou shalt hold up thy head one
day with the Brinckerhoffs, and the Schermerhorns, the Van Hornes, and the Van Dams. By
Saint Nicholas, but the patroon himself shall be
glad to get thee for his son! "
Amy shook her head at his vainglorious
boast, and was more than ever in doubt of the
soundness of the good man's intellect.
In the meantime Wolfert went on digging
and digging; but the field was extensive, and
as his dream had indicated no precise spot, he
had to dig at random. The winter set in before
one tenth of the scene of promise had been explored.
The ground became frozen hard, and the
nights too cold for the labors of the spade.
No sooner, however, did the returning warmth
of spring loosen the soil, and the small frogs
begin to pipe in the meadows, but Wolfert resumed his labors with renovated zeal. Still,
however, the hours of industry were reversed.
Instead of working cheerily all day, planting




22        BCalec from Itrving
and setting out his vegetables, he remained
thoughtfully idle, until the shades of night
summoned him to his secret labors. In this
way he continued to dig from night to night,
and week to week, and month to month, but
not a stiver did he find.  On the contrary, the
more he digged, the poorer he grew. The rich
soil of his garden was digged away, and the
sand and gravel from beneath were thrown to
the surface, until the whole field presented an
aspect of sandy barrenness.
In the meantime the seasons gradually rolled
on. The little frogs which had piped in the
meadows in early spring croaked as bull-frogs
during the summer heats, and then sank into
silence. The peach-tree budded, blossomed,
and bore its fruit. The swallows and martins
came, twitted about the roof, built their nests,
reared their young, held their congress along
the eaves, and then winged their flight in
search of another spring. The caterpillar spun
its winding-sheet, dangled in it from the great
buttonwood tree before the house; turned into
a moth, fluttered with the last sunshine of summner, and disappeared; and finally the leaves of
the buttonwood tree turned yellow, then brown,
then rustled one by one to the ground; and
whirling about in little eddies of wind and dust,
whispered that winter was at hand.




MIolfert Mebber            23
Wolfert gradually woke from his dream of
wealth as the year declined. I-Ie had reared no
crop for the supply of his household during the
sterility of winter. The season was long and
severe, and for the first time the family was
really straightened in its comforts. By degrees
a revulsion of thought took place in Wolfert's
mind, conmmon to those whose golden dreams
have been disturbed by pinching realities. The
idea gradually stole upon him that he should
come to want. He already considered himself
one of the most unfortunate men in the province, having lost such an incalculable amount
of undiscovered treasure, and now, when thousands of pounds had eluded his search, to be
perplexed for shillings and pence, was cruel in
the extreme.
Haggard care gathered about his brow; he
went about with a money-seeking air, his eyes
bent downward into the dust, and carrying his
hands in his pockets, as men are apt to do when
they have nothing else to put into them. He
could not even pass the city almshouse without
giving it a rueful glance, as if destined to be his
future abode.
The strangeness of his conduct and of his
looks occasioned much speculation and remark.
Fora longtime he was suspected of being crazy,
and then every body pitied him; and at length




24


Cales from  Irvino


it began to be suspected that he was poor, and
then every body avoided him.
The rich old burghers of his acquaintance
met him outside of the door when he called,
entertained him hospitably on the threshold,
pressed him warmly by the hand at parting,
shook their heads as he walked away, with the
kind-hearted expression of " poor Wolfert," and
turned a corner nimbly if by chance they saw
him approaching as they walked the streets.
Even the barber and the cobbler of the neighborhood, and a tattered tailor in an alley hard
by, three of the poorest and merriest rogues in
the world, eyed him with that abundant sympathy which usually attends a lack of means;
and there is not a doubt but their pockets would
have been at his command only that they happened to be empty.
Thus every body deserted the Webber mansion, as if poverty were contagious, like the
plague; every body but honest Dirk Waldron,
who still kept up his stolen visits to the daughter, and indeed seemed to wax more affectionate
as the fortunes of his mistress were in the wane.
Many months had elapsed since Wolfert had
frequented his old resort, the rural inn. He was
taking a long lonely walk one Saturday afternoon, musing over his wants and disappointments, when his feet took instinctively their




'Wiolftcrt lebber          25
wonted direction, and on awaking out of a
revery, he found himself before the door of the
inn. For some moments he hesitated whether
to enter, but his heart yearned for companionship; and where can a ruined man find better
companionship than at a tavern, where there is
neither sober example nor sober advice to put
him out of countenance?
Wolfert found several of the old frequenters
of the inn at their usual posts, and seated in
their usual places; but one was missing-the
great Ramm Rapelye, who for many years had
filled the leather-bottomed chair of state. His
place was supplied by a stranger, who seemed,
however, to be completely at home in the chair
and the tavern. He was rather under size, but
deep-chested, square, and muscular. His broad
shoulders, double joints, and bow knees, gave
tokens of prodigious strength. His face was
dark and weatherbeaten; a deep scar, as if
from the slash of a cutlass, had almost divided
his nose, and made a gash in his upper lip,
through which his teeth shone like a bull-dog's.
A mop of iron-gray hair gave a grizzly finish to
this hard-favored visage. His dress was of an
amphibious character.  He wore an old hat
edged with tarnished lace, and cocked in martial style, on one side of his head; a rusty
blue military coat with brass buttons, and a




26


vales from trving


wide pair of short petticoat trousers, or rather
breeches, for they were gathered up at the
knees. He ordered every body about him with
an authoritative air, talking in a brattling voice,
that sounded like the crackling of thorns under
a pot; d   d the landlord and servants with
perfect impunity, and was waited upon with
greater obsequiousness than had ever been
shown to the mighty Ramm himself.
Wolfert's curiosity was awakened to know
who and what was this stranger, who had thus
usurped absolute sway in this ancient domain.
Peechy Prauw took him aside, into a remote
corner of the hall, and there, in an under voice,
and with great caution, imparted to him all that
he knew on the subject. The inn had been
aroused several months before, on a dark,
stormy night, by repeated long shouts, that
seemed like the howling of a wolf. They came
from the water-side, and at length were distinguished to be hailing the house in the seafaring
manner, " House-a-hoy!" The landlord turned
out with his head-waiter, tapster, hostler, and
errand-boy,-that is to say, with his old negro
Cuff. On approaching the place whence the
voice proceeded, they found this amphibiouslooking personage at the water's edge, quite
alone, and seated on a great oaken sea-chest.
How he came there, whether he had been set




Wolfert 71iebber           27
on shore from some boat, or had floated to land
on his chest, nobody could tell, for he did not
seem disposed to answer questions; and there
was something in his looks and manners that
put a stop to all questioning. Suffice it to say,
he took possession of a corner-room of the inn,
to which his chest was removed with great difficulty.  Here he had remained ever since,
keeping about the inn and its vicinity. Sometimes, it is true, he disappeared for one, two, or
three days at a time, going and returning without giving any notice or account of his movemients. H-e always appeared to have plenty of
money, though often of very strange, outlandish
coinage; and he regularly paid his bill every
evening before turning in.
He had fitted up his room to his own fancy,
having slung a hammock from the ceiling instead of a bed, and decorated the walls with
rusty pistols and cutlasses of foreign workmanship. A greater part of his time was passed in
this room, seated by the window, which commanded a wide view of the Sound, a short oldfashioned pipe in his mouth, a glass of rumtoddy at his elbow, and a pocket-telescope in
his hand, with which he reconnoitred every boat
that moved upon the water.   Large square..
rigged vessels seemed to excite but little attention; but the moment he decried any thing
f.




28;alte tfrom Irving
with a shoulder-of-mutton sail, or that a barge,
or yawl, or jolly-boat hove in sight, up went the
telescope, and he examined it with the most
scrupulous attention.
All this might have passed without much
notice, for in those times the province was so
much the resort of adventurers of all characters
and climes, that any oddity in dress or behavior
attracted but small attention. In a little while,
however, this strange sea-monster, thus strangely cast upon dry land, began to encroach upon
the long-established customs and customers of
the pla e, and to interfere in a dictorial manner in the affairs of the ninepin alley and the
bar-room, until in the end he usurped an absolute command over the whole inn. It was all
in vain to attempt to withstand his authority.
He was not exactly quarrelsome, but boisterous
and peremptory, like one accustomed to tyrannize on a quarter-deck; and there was a daredevil air about every thing he said and did. that
inspired weariness in all by-standers. Even the
half-pay officer, so long the hero of the club,
was soon silenced by him; and the quiet burghers stared with wonder at seeing their inflammable man of war so readily and quietly extinguished.
And then the tales that he would tell vfre
enough to make a peaceable man's hair stu..\




'Xolfert Wtlebber          29
on end. There was not a sea-fight, nor marauding nor freebooting adventure that had happened within the last twenty years, but he
seemed perfectly versed in it. He delighted to
talk of the exploits of the buccaneers in the
West Indies, and on the Spanish Main. How
his eyes would glisten as he described the waylaying of treasureships, the desperate fights,
yard-arm and yard-arm-broadside and broadside-the boarding and capturing huge Spanish
galleons! With what chuckling relish would
he describe the descent upon some rich Spanish
colony; the rifling of a church; the sacking of
a convent! You would have thought ye. iieard
some gormandizer dilating upon the roasting of
a savory goose at Michaelmas as he described
the roasting of some Spanish Don to make him
discover his treasure-a detail given with a
minuteness that made every rich old burgher
present turn uncomfortably in his chair. All
this would be told with infinite glee, as if he
considered it an excellent joke; and then he
would give such a tyrannical leer in the face of
his next neighbor, that the poor man would be
fain to laugh out of sheer faint-heartedness. If
any one, however, pretended to contradict him
in any of his stories, he was on fire in an in"^4t, His very cocked hat assumed a momen-,-y fierceness, and seemed to resent the contra



30


aIales from  1rving


diction. "How the devil should you know as
well as I?-I tell you it was as I say "; and he
would at the same time let slip a broadside of
thundering oaths and tremendous sea-phrases,
such as had never been heard before within
these peaceful walls.
Indeed, the worthy burghers began to surmise that he knew more of those stories than
mere hearsay. Day after day their conjectures
concerning him grew more and more wild and
fearful. The strangeness of his arrival, the
strangeness of his manners, the mystery that
surrounded him, all made him something incomprehensible in their eyes. He was a kind
of monster of the deep to them-he was a merman-he was a behemoth-he was a leviathan,
-in short, they knew not what he was.
The domineering spirit of this boisterous seaurchin at length grew quite intolerable. He
was no respecter of persons; he contradicted
the richest burghers without hesitation; he
took possession of the sacred elbow - chair,
which, time out of mind, had been the seat of
sovereignty of the illustrious Ramm Rapelye.
Nay, he even went so far, in one of his rough
jocular moods, as to slap that mighty burgher
on the back, drink his toddy, and wink in his
face, a thing scarcely to be believed. From this
time Ramm Rapelye appeared no more at the




Ml~lolfert Matebber


3I


inn; his example was followed by several of the
most eminent customers, who were too rich to
tolerate being bullied out of their opinions, or
being obliged to laugh at another man's jokes.
The landlord was almost in despair; but he
knew not how to get rid of this sea-monster
and his sea-chest, who seemed both to have
grown like fixtures, or excrescences, on his
establishment.
Such was the account whispered cautiously
in WVolfert's ear, by the narrator, Peechy Prauw,
as he held him by the button in a corer of the
hall, casting a wary glance now and then towards the door of the bar-room, lest he should
be overheard by the terrible hero of his tale.
Wolfert took his seat in a remote part of the
room in silence; impressed with profound awe
of this unknown, so versed in freebooting history. It was to him a wonderful instance of
the revolutions of mighty empires, to find the
venerable Ramm Rapelye thus ousted from
the throne, and a rugged tarpauling dictating
from his elbow-chair, hectoring the patriarchs,
and filling this tranquil little realm with brawl
and bravado.
The stranger was on this evening in a more
than usually communicative mood, and was
narrating a number of astounding stories of
plunderings and burnings on the high seas.
V'o. II.-3




32          Bate ftrom   Irving
He dwelt upon them with peculiar relish,
heightening the frightful particulars in proportion to their effect on his peaceful auditors. He
gave a swaggering detail of the capture of a
Spanish merchantman. She was lying becalmed during a long summer's day, just off
from the island, which was one of the lurkingplaces of the pirates. They had reconnoitred
her with their spy-glasses from the shore, and
ascertained her character and force. At night
a picked crew of daring fellows set off for her
in a whale-boat. They approached with muffled
oars, as she lay rocking idly -with the undulations of the sea, and her sails flapping against
the masts. They were close under the stern
before the guard on deck was aware of their
approach. The alarm was given; the pirates
threw hand-grenades on deck, and sprang up the
main chains, sword in hand.
The crew flew to arms, but in great confusion;
some were shot down, others took refuge in
the tops; others were driven overboard and
drowned; while others fought hand to hand
from the main-deck to the quarter-deck, disputing gallantly every inch of ground. There
were three Spanish gentlemen on board with
their ladies, who made the most desperate resistance. They defended the companion-way,
cut down several of their assailants, and fought




Mofofert Meebber


33


like very devils, for they were maddened by the
shrieks of the ladies from the cabin. One of the
Dons was old, and soon dispatched. The other
two kept their ground vigorously, even though
the captain of the pirates was among their assailants. Just then there was a shout of victory
from the main-deck. " The ship is ours!" cried
the pirates.
One of the Dons immediately dropped his
sword and surrendered; the other, who was a
hot-headed youngster, and just married, gave
the captain a slash in the face that laid all open.
The captain just made out to articulate the
words "no quarter."
" And what did they do with their prisoners?"
said Peechy Prauw, eagerly.
" Threw them all overboard," was the answer.
A dead pause followed the reply. Peechy
Prauw sunk quietly back, like a man who had
unwarily stole upon the lair of a sleeping lion.
The honest burghers cast fearful glances at the
deep scar slashed across the visage of the stranger, and moved their chairs a little farther off.
The seaman, however, smoked on without
moving a muscle, as though he either did not
perceive or did not regard the unfavorable effect
he had produced upon his hearers.
The half-pay officer was the first to break the
silence, for he was continually tempted to make




34;alIs from IIrivng


ineffectual head against this tyrant of the seas,
and to regain his lost consequence in the eyes
of his ancient companions. He now tried to
match the gunpowder tales of the stranger by
others equally tremendous.  Kidd, as usual,
was his hero, concerning whom he seemed to
have picked up many of the floating traditions
of the province. The seaman had always
evinced a settled pique against the one-eyed
warrior. On this occasion he listened with
peculiar impatience. He sat with one arm
akimbo, the other elbow on the table, the
hand holding on to the small pipe he was
pettishly puffing; his legs crossed; drumming
with one foot on the ground, and casting every
now and then the side-glance of a basilisk
at the prosing captain.  At length the latter
spoke of Kidd's having ascended the Hudson
with some of his crew, to land his plunder in
secrecy.
" Kidd up the Hudson!" burst forth the seaman, with a tremendous oath,-" Kidd never
was up the Hudson! "
" I tell you he was," said the other. "Aye,
and they say he buried a quantity of treasure onl
the little flat that runs out into the river, called
the Devil's Dans Kammer."
"The Devil's Dans Kammer in your teeth!"
cried the seaman. "I tell you Kidd never was




Mofofert 1U, cvbe


35


up the Hudson. What a plague do you know
of Kidd and hi s haunts?"
"What do I know?" echoed the half-pay
officer. ' Why, I was in London at the time of
his trial; aye, and I had the pleasure of seeing
him hanged at Execution Dock."
Then, sir, let me tell you that you saw as
pretty a fellow hanged as ever trod shoe-leather.
Aye!" putting his face nearer to that of the
officer, "and there was many a land-lubber
looked on that might much better have swung
in his stead."
The half-pay officer was silenced, but the indignation thus pent up in his bosom glowed
with intense vehemence in his single eye, which
kindled like a coal.
Peechy Prauw, who never could remain silent, observed that the gentleman certainly
was in the right. Kidd never did bury money
up the Hudson, nor indeed in any of those
parts, though many affirmed such to be the
fact. It was Braddish and others of tlh
buccaneers who had buried money; some
said in Turtle Bay, others on Long Island,
others in the neighborhood of Hell-gate. "Indeed," added he, "I recollect an adventure
of Sam, the negro fisherman, many years
ago, which some think had something to do
with the buccaneers.  As we are all friends




36


'Calez from Irving


here, and as it will go no further, I'll tell it
to you.
"Upon a dark night many years ago, as
Black Sam was returning from fishing in Hellgate    "
Here the story was nipped in the bud by a
sudden movement from the unknown, who,
laying his iron fist on the table, knuckles downward, with a quiet force that indented the very
boards, and looking grimly over his shoulder,
with the grin of an angry bear,-" Ieark'ee,
neighbor," said he, with significant nodding of
the head, "you 'd better let the buccaneers and
their money alone,-they 're not for old men
and old women to meddle with. They fought
hard for their money; they gave body and soul
for it; and wherever it lies buried, depend upon
it he must have a tug with the devil who
gets it! "
This sudden explosion was succeeded by a
blank silence throughout the room. Peechy
Prauw shrunk within himself, and even the
one-eyed officer turned pale.  Wolfert, who
from a dark corner of the room had listened
with intense eagerness to all this talk about
buried treasure, looked with mingled awe and
reverence at this bold buccaneer, for such he
really suspected him to be. There was a chinking of gold and a sparkling of jewels in all his




'Ilolfert Mebber          37
stories about the Spanish Main that gave a value
to every period; and Wolfert would have given
any thing for the rummaging of the ponderous
sea-chest, which his imagination crammed full
of golden chalices, crucifixes, and jolly round
bags of doubloons.
The dead stillness that had fallen upon the
company was at length interrupted by the stranger, who pulled out a prodigious watch of curious and ancient workmanship, and which in
Wolfert's eyes had a decidedly Spanish look.
On touching a spring it struck ten o'clock,
upon which the sailor called for his reckoning,
and having paid it out of a handful of outlandish coin, he drank off the remainder of his
beverage, and without taking leave of any one,
rolled out of the room, muttering to himself, as
he stamped up-stairs to his chamber.
It was some time before the company could
recover from the silence into which they had
been thrown. The very footsteps of the stranger, which were heard now and then as he
traversed his chamber, inspired awe.
Still the conversation in which they had been
engaged was too interesting not to be resumed.
A heavy thunder-gust had gathered up unnoticed while they were lost in talk, and the torrents of rain that fell forbade all thoughts of
setting off for home until the storm should




38         Bales from I rvitn
subside. They drew nearer together, therefore,
and entreated the worthy Peechy Prauw to continue the tale which had been so discourteously
interrupted. He readily complied, whispering,
however, in a tone scarcely above his breath,
and drowned occasionally by the rolling of the
thunder; and he would pause every now and
then, and listen with evident awe, as he heard
the heavy footsteps of the stranger pacing overhead.
The following is the purport of his story.
ADVENTURE OF THE BLACK FISHERMAN.
everybody knows Black Sam, the old negro
fisherman, or, as he is commonly called,
Mud Sam, who had fished about the Sound
for the last half century.  It is now many
years since Sam, who was then as active
a young negro as any in the province, and
worked on the farm of Killian Suydam on Long
Island, having finished his day's work at an
early hour, was fishing, one still summer evening, just about the neighborhood of Hell-gate.
He was in a light skiff, and being well acquainted with the currents and eddies, had
shifted his station according to the shifting of
the tide, from the Hen and Chickens to the
Hog's Baclk, from the Hog's Back to the Pot,




be J13[ach ffibcrnmat        39
and from the Pot to the Frying-Pan; but in the
eagerness of his sport he did not see that the
tide was rapidly ebbing, until the roaring of
the whirlpools and eddies warned him of his
danger; and he had some difficulty in shooting
his skiff from among the rocks and breakers,
and getting to the point of Blackwell's Island.
Here he cast anchor for some time, waiting the
turn of the tide to enable him to return homewards. As the night set in, it grew blustering
and gusty. Dark clouds came bundling up in'
the west, and now and then a growl of thunder
or a flash of lightning told that a summer storm
was at hand. Sam pulled over, therefore, under the lee of Manhattan Island, and coasting
along, came to a snag nook, just under a steep
beetling rock, where he fastened his skiff to the
root of a tree that shot out from a cleft, and
spread its broad branches like a canopy over
the water. The gust came scouring along; the
wind threw up the river in white surges; the
rain rattled among the leaves; the thunder bellowed worse than that which is now bellowing;
the lightning seemed to lick up the surges of the
stream; but Sam, snugly sheltered under rock
and tree, lay crouching in his skiff, rocking
upon the billows until he fell asleep. When he
woke all was quiet. The gust had passed away,
and only now and then a faint gleam of light



40


0ales trom  1[rving


ning in the east showed which way it had gone.
The night was dark and moonless, and from the
state of the tide Sam concluded it was near
midnight. He was on the point of making
loose his skiff to return homewards, when he
saw a light gleaming along the water from a
distance, which seemed rapidly approaching.
As it drew near he perceived it came from a laLntern in the bow of a boat gliding along under
shadow of the land. It pulled up in a small
cove, close to where he was. A man jumped on
the shore, and searching about with the lantern,
exclaimed: " This is the place-here 's the iron
ring." The boat was then made fast, and the
man returning on board, assisted his comrades
in conveying something heavy on shore. As
the light gleamed among them, Sam saw that
they were five stout, desperate-looking fellows,
in red woollen caps, with a leader in a threecornered hat, and that some of them.are
armed with dirks, or long knives, and pistols.
They talked low to one another, and occasionally in some outlandish tongue which he could
not understand.
On landing they made their way among the
bushes, taking turns to relieve each other in
lugging their burden up the rocky bank. Sam's
curiosity was now fully aroused; so leaving hi
skiff he clambered silently up a ridge that over







"This is the place-hure 's the hrun ring."




Zbe J:lack fftberman


41


looked their path. They had stopped to rest
for a moment, and the leader was looking about
among the bushes with his lantern. "Have
you brought the spades?" said one.  "They
are here," replied another, who had them on
his shoulder. "We must dig deep, where there
will be no risk of discovery," said a third.
A cold chill ran through Sam's veins. He
fancied he saw before him a gang of murderers,
about to bury their victim. His knees smote
together. In his agitation he shook the branch
of a tree with which lie was supporting himself:as he looked over the edge of the cliff.
"What 's that?" cried one of the gang.
Some one stirs among the bushes!"
The lantern was held up in the direction of
the noise. One of the red-caps cocked a pistol,
and pointed it towards the very place where
Sam was standing.  He stood motionlessbreathless; expecting the next moment to be
his last.  Fortunately his dingy complexion
was in his favor, and made no glare among the
leaves.
"'T is no one," said the man with the lantern. " What a plague! you would not fire off
your pistol and alann the country! "
The pistol was uncocked; the burden was
resumed, and the party slowly toiled along the
bank. Sam watched them as they went; the




42


Zatcs ftrorn ~rving


light sending back fitful gleams through the
dripping bushes, and it was not till they were
fairly out of sight that he ventured to draw
breath freely. He now thought of getting back
to his boat, and making his escape out of the
reach of such dangerous neighbors; but curiosity was all-powerful. He hesitated and lingered and listened. By and by he heard the
strokes of spades.. "They are digging the
grave!" said he to himself; and the cold
sweat started upon his forehead. Every stroke
of a spade, as it sounded through the silent
groves, went to his heart; it was evident there
was as little noise made as possible; every thing
had an air of terrible mystery and secrecy. Sam
had a great relish for the horrible,-a tale of
murder was a treat for him; and he was a constant attendant at executions.  He could not
resist an impulse, in spite of every danger, to
steal nearer to the scenes of mystery and overlook the midnight fellows at their work. He
crawled along cautiously, therefore, inch by
inch; stepping with the utmost care among the
dry leaves, lest their rustling should betray
him. He came at length to where a steep rock
intervened between him and the gang; for he
saw the light of their lantern shining up against
the branches of the trees on the other side.
Sam slowly and silently clambered up the sur



tbe 3tlack ftsberman


43


face of the rock, and raising his head above its
naked edge, beheld the villains immediately
below him, and so near, that though he dreaded
discovery, he dared not withdraw lest the least
movement should be heard. In this way he remained, with his round black face peering above
the edge o! the rock, like the sun just emerging
above the edge of the horizon, or the roundcheeked moon on the dial of a clock.
The red-caps had nearly finished their work;
the grave was filled up, and they were carefully
replacing the turf. This done, they scattered
dry leaves over the place. "And now," said
the leader, "I defy the devil himself to find it
out. "
"The murderers! " exclaimed Sam, involuntarily.
The whole gang started, and looking up, beheld the round black head of Sam just above
them. His white eyes strained half out of their
orbits; his white teeth chattering, and his
whole visage shining with cold perspiration.
"We 're discovered!" cried one.
"Down with him! " cried another.
Sam heard the cocking of a pistol, but did
not pause for the report. He scrambled over
rock and stone, through brush and brier; rolled
down banks like a hedge-hog; scrambled up
others like a catamount. In every direction he




44          tales from Irving0
heard some one or other of the gang hemming
him in. At length he reached the rocky ridge
along the river; one of the red-caps was hard
behind him. A steep rock like a wall rose
directly in his way; it seemed to cut off all
retreat, when fortunately he espied the strong
cord-like branch of a grapevine reaching halfway down it. He sprang at it with the force of
a desperate man, seized it with both hands, and
being young and agile, succeeded in swinging
himself to the summit of the cliff. Here he
stood in full relief against the sky, when redcap cocked his pistol and fired.  The ball
whistled by Sam's head. With the lucky
thought of a man in an emergency, he uttered
a yell, fell to the ground, and detached at the
same time a fragment of the rock, which
tumbled with a loud splash into the river.
" I 've done his business," said the red-cap
to one or two of his comrades as they arrived
panting.  "He '11 tell no tales, except to the
fishes in the river."
His pursuer now turned to meet their companions. Sam, sliding silently down the surface of the rock, let himself quietly into his
skiff, cast loose the fastening, and abandoned
himself to the rapid current, which in that
place runs like a mill-stream, and soon swept
him off from the neighborhood. It was not,




'Cbe V1ach 9ftberman


45


however, until he had drifted a great distance
that he ventured to ply his oars, when he made
his skiff dart like an arrow through the strait
of Hell-gate, never heeding the danger of Pot,
Frying-Pan, nor Hog's Back itself: nor did he
feel himself thoroughly secure until safely
nestled in bed in the cockloft of the ancient
farm-house of the Suydams.
Here the worthy Peechy Prauw paused to
take breath, and to take a sip of the gossip
tankard that stood at his elbow. His auditors
remained with open mouths and outstretched
necks, gaping like a nest of swallows for an
additional mouthful.
"And is that all?" exclaimed the half-pay
officer.
"That's all that belongs to the story," said
Peechy Prauw.
" And did Sam never find out what was buried
by the red-caps? " said Wolfert, eagerly, whose
mind was haunted by nothing but ingots and
doubloons.
"Not that I know of," said Peechy; "he
had no time to spare from his work, and, to
tell the truth, he did not like to run the risk of
another race among the rocks. Besides, how
should he recollect the spot where the grave
had been digged? every thing would look so
different by daylight. And then, where was the




46


CaIe front ~rvinoj


use of looking for a dead body, when there was
no chance of hanging the murderers? "
"Aye, but are you sure it was a dead body
they buried? " said Wolfert.
"To be sure," cried Peechy Prauw, exultingly. "Does it not haunt in the neighborhood
to this very day?"
" Haunts! " exclaimed several of the party,
opening their eyes still wider, and edging their
chairs still closer.
"Aye, haunts," repeated Peechy; have none
of you heard of Father Red-cap, who haunts the
old burnt farm-house in the woods, on the border of the Sound, near Hell-gate? "
"Oh, to be sure, I 've heard tell of something
of the kind, but then I took it for some old
wives' fable."
"Old wives' fable or not," said Peech;
Prauw, " that farm-house stands hard by the
very spot. It's been unoccupied time out of
mind, and stands in a lonely part of the coast;
but those who fish in the neighborhood have
often heard strange noises there; and lights
have been seen about the wood at night; and
an old fellow in a red cap has been seen at the
windows more than once, which people take to
be the ghost of the body buried there. Once
upon a time three soldiers took shelter in the
building for the night, and rummaged it from




Cbe VIach fteberman


47


top to bottom, when they found old Father Redcap astride of a cider-barrel in the cellar, with
a jug in one hand and a goblet in the other.
He offered them a drink out of his goblet, but
just as one of the soldiers was putting it to his
mouth-whew!-a flash of fire blazed through
the cellar, blinded every mother's son of them
for several minutes, and when they recovered
their eye-sight, jug, goblet, and Red-cap had
vanished, and nothing but the empty ciderbarrel remained."
Here the half-pay officer, who was growing
very muzzy and sleepy, and nodding over his
liquor, with half-extinguished eye, suddenly
gleamed up like an expiring rushlight.
"That's all fudge! " said he, as Peechy finished his last story.
"Well, I don't vouch for the truth of it myself," said Peechy Prauw, "though all the world
knows that there 's something strange about
that house and grounds; but as to the story of
Mud Sam, I believe it just as well as if it had
happened to myself."
The deep interest taken in this conversation
by the company had made them unconscious
of the uproar abroad among the elements, when
suddenly they were electrified by a tremendous
clap of thunder. A lumbering crash followed
Vol. II.-4




48


wales from 1[rvitn


instantaneously, shaking the building to its
very foundation. All started from their seats,
imagining it the shock of an earthquake, or
that old Father Red-cap was coming among
them in all his terrors. They listened for a
moment, but only heard the rain pelting against
the windows, and the wind howling among the
trees. The explosion was soon explained by
the apparition of an old negro's bald head thrust
in at the door, his white goggle eyes contrasting with his jetty poll, which was wet with
rain, and shone like a bottle. In a jargon but
half intelligible, he announced that the kitchenchimney had been struck with lightning.
A sullen pause of the storm, which now rose
and sunk in gusts, produced a momentary stillness. In this interval the report of a musket
was heard, and a long shout, almost like a yell,
resounded from the shores. Every one crowded
to the window; another musket-shot was heard,
and another long shout, mingled wildly with a
rising blast of wind. It seemed as if the cry
came up from the bosom of the waters; for
though incessant flashes of lightning spread a
light about the shore, no one was to be seen.
Suddenly the window of the room overhead
was opened, and a loud halloo uttered by the
mysterious stranger. Several hailings passed
from one party to the other, but in a language




MI1olfert M'Qebber


49


which none of the company in the bar-room
could understand; and presently they heard
the window closed, and a great noise overhead,
as if all the furniture were pulled and hauled
about the room. The negro servant was summoned, and shortly afterwards was seen assisting the veteran to lug the ponderous sea-chest
down-stairs.
The landlord was in amazement.  "What,
you are not going on the water in such a
storm?"
"Storm!" said the other, scornfully, "do
you call such a sputter of weather a storm? "
"You '11 get drenched to the skin,-you '11
catch your death!" said Peechy Prauw, affectionately.
"Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed the
veteran, "don't preach about weather to a man
that has cruised in whirlwinds and tornadoes."
The obsequious Peechy was again struck
dumb. The voice from the water was heard
once more in a tone of impatience; the bystanders stared with redoubled awe at this
man of storms, who seemed to have come
up out of the deep, and to be summoned
back to it again.  As, with the assistance of
the negro, he slowly bore his ponderous seachest towards the shore, they eyed it with a
superstitious feeling,-half doubting whether




50


5ales from lirvinq


he were not really about to embark upon it and
launch forth upon the wild waves. They followed him at a distance with a lantern.
"Dowse the light! " roared the hoarse voice
from the water. "No one wants light here!"
"Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed the
veteran, turning short upon them; "back to
the house with you!"
Wolfert and his companions shrunk back in
dismay. Still their curiosity would not allow
them entirely to withdraw. A long sheet of
lightning now flickered across the waves, and
discovered a boat, filled with men, just under a
rocky point, rising and sinking with the heaving surges, and swashing the waters at every
heave. It was with difficulty held to the rocks
by a boat-hook, for the current rushed furiously
round the point. The veteran hoisted one end
of the lumbering sea-chest on the gunwale of
the boat, and seized the handle at the other end
to lift it in, when the motion propelled the boat
from the shore; the chest slipped off from the
gunwale, and, sinking into the waves, pulled
the veteran headlong after it. A loud shriek
was uttered by all on shore, and a volley of execrations by those on board, but boat and man
were hurried away by the rushing swiftness of
the tide. A pitchy darkness succeeded; Wolfert Webber indeed fancied that he distin



';loftcrt lebber           51
guished a cry for help, and that he beheld the
drowning man beckoning for assistance; but
when the lightning again gleamed along the
water, all was void; neither man nor boat was
to be seen; nothing but the dashing and weltering of the waves as they hurried past.
The company returned to the tavern to await
the subsiding of the storm. They resumed their
seats, and gazed on each other with dismay.
The whole transaction had not occupied five
minutes, and not a dozen words had been
spoken. When they looked at the oaken chair,
they could scarcely realize the fact that the
strange being who had so lately tenanted it,
full of life and Herculean vigor, should already
be a corpse. There was the very glass he had
just drunk from; there lay the ashes from the
pipe which he had smoked, as it were with his
last breath. As the worthy burghers pondered
on these things, they felt a terrible conviction
of the uncertainty of existence, and each felt as
if the ground on which he stood was rendered
less stable by his awful example.
As, however, the most of the company were
possessed of that valuable philosophy which enables a man to bear up with fortitude against
the misfortunes of his neighbors, they soon
managed to console themselves for the tragic
end of the veteran. The landlord was particu



52


Ualeo fromn ~rtvng


larly happy that the poor dear man had paid
his reckoning before he went; and made a kind
of farewell speech on the occasion.
"He came," said he, "in a storm, and he
went in a storm; he came in the night, and he
went in the night; he came nobody knows
whence, and he has gone nobody knows where.
For aught I know le has gone to sea once more
on his chest, and may land to bother some people on the other side of the world! Though it 's
a thousand pities," added he, "if he has gone
to Davy Jones' locker, that he had not left his
own locker behind him."
"PHis locker! St. Nicholas preserve us!"
cried Peechy Prauw. "I 'd not have had that
sea-cliest in the house for aneymonley; I '11
warrant he 'd come racketing after it at nights,
and making a haunted house of the inn. And,
as to his going to sea in his chest, I recollect
what happened to Skipper Onderdonk's ship on
his voyage from Amsterdam.
" The boatswain died during a storm: so they
wrapped him up in a sheet, and put him in his
own sea-chest, and threw him overboard; but
they neglected in their hurry-skurry to say
prayers over him-and the storm raged and
roared louder than ever, and they saw the dead
man seated in his chest, with his shroud for a
sail, coming hard after the ship; and the sea




'Xoltfert M',ebber


53


breaking before him in great sprays like fire;
and there they kept scudding day after day, and
night after night, expecting every moment to go
to wreck; and every night they saw the dead
boatswain in his sea-chest trying to get up with
them, and they heard his whistle above the blasts
of wind and he seemed to send great seas mountain-high after them, that would have swamped
the ship if they had not put up the dead-lights.
And so it went on till they lost sight of him in
the fogs off Newfoundland, and supposed he
had veered ship and stood for Dead Man's Isle.
So much for burying a man at sea without saving prayers over him."
The thunder-gust which had hitherto detained
the company was now at an end. The cuckoo
clock in the hall told midnight; every one
pressed to depart, for seldom was such a late
hour of the night trespassed on by these quiet
burghers. As they sallied forth, they found
the heavens once more serene.  The storm
which had lately obscured them  had rolled
away, and lay piled up in fleecy masses on the
horizon, lighted up by the bright crescent of
the moon, which looked like a little silver
lamp hung up in a palace of clouds.
The dismal occurrence of the night, and the
dismal narrations they had made, had left a
superstitious feeling in every mind. They cast




54


4  alei from Irring


a fearful glance at the spot where the buccaneer
had disappeared, almost expecting to see him
sailing on his chest in the cool moonshine. The
trembling rays glittered along the waters, but
all was placid; and the current dimpled over
the spot where he had gone down. The party
huddled together in a little crowd as they repaired homewards; particularly when they
passed a lonely field where a man had been
murdered; and even the sexton, who had to
complete his journey alone, though accustomed,
one would think, to ghosts and goblins, went a
long way round, rather than pass by his own
churchyard.
Wolfert \Vebber had now carried home a fresh
stock of stories and notions to ruminate upon.
These accounts of pots of money and Spanish
treasures, buried here and there and everywhere, about the rocks and bays of these wild
shores, made him almost dizzy. " Blessed St.
Nicholas! " ejaculated he, half aloud, " is it not
possible to come upon one of these golden
hoards, and to make one's self rich in a twinkling? How hard that I must go on, delving
and delving, day in and day out, merely to
make a morsel of bread, when one lucky stroke
of a spade might enable me to ride in my carriage for the rest of my life! "
As he turned over in his thoughts all that had




MKoltert 'Iebber


55


been told of the singular adventure of the negro fisherman, his imagination gave a totally
different complexion to the tale. IHe saw in
the gang of red-caps nothing but a crew of
pirates burying their spoils, and his cupidity
was once more awakened by the possibility of
at length getting on the traces of some of this
lurking wealth.  Indeed, his infected fancy
tinged every thing with gold. He felt like the
greedy inhabitant of Bagdad, when his eyes
had been greased with the magic ointment of
the dervise, that gave him to see all the treasures of the earth. Caskets of buried jewels,
chests of ingots, and barrels of outlandish coins,
seemed to court him from their concealments,
and supplicate him to relieve them from their
untimely graves.
On making private inquiries about the
grounds said to be haunted by Father Red-cap,
he was more and more confirmed in his surmise. He learned that the place had several
times been visited by experienced money-diggers, who had heard Black Sam's story, though
none of them had met with success. On the
contrary, they had always been dogged with illluck of some kind or other, in consequence, as
Wolfert concluded, of not going to work at the
proper time, and with the proper ceremonials.
The last attempt had been made by Cobus




56


'aCaco ftromn rvingg


Ouackenbos, who dug for a whole night, and
met with incredible difficulty, for as fast as he
threw one shovelful of earth out of the hole,
two were thrown in by invisible hands. He
succeeded so far, however, as to uncover an
iron chest, when there was a terrible roaring,
ramping, and raging of uncouth figures about
the hole, and at length a shower of blows, dealt
by invisible cudgels, fairly belabored him off of
the forbidden ground. This Cobus Quackenbos
had declared on his death-bed, so that there
could not be any doubt of it. He was a man
that had devoted many years of his life to
money-digging, and it was thought would have
ultimately succeeded had he not died recently
of a brain-fever in the almshouse.
Wolfert Webber was now in a worry of trepidation and impatience, fearful lest some rival
adventurer should get a scent of the buried
gold. He determined privately to seek out the
black fisherman, and get him to serve as guide
to the place where he had witnessed the mysterious scene of interment. Sam was easily
found; for he was one of those old habitual
beings that live about a neighborhood until
they wear themselves a place in the public
mind, and become, in a manner, public characacters. There was not an unlucky urchin about
town that did not know Sam the fisherman, and




'oltfecrt lWebber


57


think that he had a right to play his tricks
upon the old negro. Sam had led an amphibious life for more than half a century, about the
shores of the bay and the fishing-grounds of
the Sound. He passed a greater part of his
time on and in the water, particularly about
Hell-gate, and might have been taken, in bad
weather, for one of the hobgoblins that used to
haunt that strait. There would he be seen, at
all times, and in all weathers; sometimes in
his skiff, anchored among the eddies, or prowling like a shark about some wreck, where the
fish are supposed to be most abundant. Sometimes seated on a rock from hour to hour, looking, in the mist and drizzle, like a solitary heron
watching for its prey. He was well acquainted
with every hole and corner of the Sound, from
the Wallabout to Hell-gate, and from Hell-gate
unto the Devil's Stepping-Stones; and it was
even affirmed that he knew all the fish in the
river by their Christian names.
Wolfert found him at his cabin, which was
not much larger than a tolerable dog-house. It
was rudely constructed of fragments of wrecks
and drift-wood, and built on the rocky shore, at
the foot of the old fort, just about what at present forms the point of the Battery. A "most
ancient and fish-like smell " pervaded the place.
Oars, paddles, and fishing-rods were leaning




58


Zales from  rvting


against the wall of the fort; a net was spread
on the sand to dry; a skiff was drawn up on
the beach; and at the door of his cabin was
Mud Sam himself, indulging in the true negro
luxury of sleeping in the sunshine.
Many years had passed away since the time
of Sam's youthful adventure, and the snows of
many a winter had grizzled the knotty wool
upon his head. He perfectly recollected the
circumstances, however, for he had often been
called upon to relate them, though in his version of the story he differed in many points
from Peechy Prauw, as is not unfrequently the
case with authentic historians. As to the subsequent researches of money-diggers, Saul
knew nothing about them; they were matters
quite out of his line; neither did the cautious
Wolfert care to disturb his thoughts on that
point. His only wish was to secure the old
fisherman as a pilot to the spot, and this was
readily effected. The long time that had intervened since his nocturnal adventure had effaced
all Sam's awe of the place, and the promise of
a trifling reward roused him at once from his
sleep and his sunshine.
The tide was adverse to making the expedition by water, and Wolfert was too impatient
to get to the land of promise to wait for its turning: they set l);, therefore, by land. A walk




MIoltert Mlebbcr


59


of four or five miles brought them to the edge
of a wood, which at that time covered the
greater part of the eastern side of the island.
It was just beyond the pleasant region of Bloomen-dael. Here they struck into a long lane,
straggling among trees and bushes, very much
overgrown with weeds and mullein-stalks, as if
but seldom used, and so completely overshadowed as to enjoy but a kind of twilight. Wild
vines entangled the trees and flaunted in their
faces; brambles and briers caught their clothes
as they passed; the garter-snake glided across
their path; the spotted toad hopped and waddled before them, and the restless cat-bird
mewed at them from every thicket. Had Wolfert Webber been deeply read in romantic
legend, he might have fancied himself entering
upon forbidden, enchanted ground; or that
these were some of the guardians set to keep
watch upon buried treasure. As it was, the
loneliness of the place, and the wild stories connected with it, had their effect upon his mind.
On reaching the lower end of the lane, they
found themselves near the shore of the Sound
in a kind of amphitheatre, surrounded by foresttrees. The area had once been a grass-plot, but
was now shagged with briers and rank weeds.
At one end, and just on the river bank, was a
ruined building, little better than a heap of




6o


Calco ftronn   ~trvtti




rubbish, with a stack of chimneys rising like a
solitary tower out of the centre. The current
of the Sound rushed along just below it; with
wildly grown trees drooping their branches into
its waves.
Wolfert had not a doubt that this was the
haunted house of Father Red-cap, and called to
mind the story of Peechy Prauw. The evening
was approaching, and the light falling dubiously
among the woody places, gave a melancholy
tone to the scene, well calculated to foster any
lurking feeling of awe or superstition. The
night-hawk, wheeling about in the highest
regions of the air, emitted his peevish boding
cry. The woodpecker gave a lonely tap now
and then on some hollow tree, and the fire-bird '
streamed by them with his deep-red plumage.
They now came to an enclosure that had once
been a garden. It extended along the foot of a
rocky ridge, but was little better than a wilderness of weeds, with here and there a matted
rosebush, or a peach- or plum-tree grown wild
and ragged, and covered with moss. At the
lower end of the garden they passed a kind of
vault in the side of a bank, facing the water.
It had the look of a root-house. The door,
though decayed, was still strong, and appeared
to have been recently patched up.  Wolfert
* Orchard oriole.




M'lolfert Wlcebber         61
pushed it open. It gave a harsh grating upon
its hinges, and striking against something like
a box, a rattling sound ensued, and a skull
rolled on the floor. Wiolfert drew back shuddering, but was reassured on being informed by
the negro that this was a family vault belonging
to one of the old Dutch families that owned
this estate: an assertion corroborated by the
sight of coffins of various sizes piled within.
Sam had been familiar with all these scenes
when a boy, and now knew that he could not
be far from the place of which they were in
quest.
They now made their way to the water's
edge, scrambling along ledges of rocks that
overhung the waves, and obliged often to hold
by shrubs and grapevines to avoid slipping
into the deep and hurried stream. At length
they came to a small cove, or rather indent of
the shore. It was protected by steep rocks,
and overshadowed by a thick copse of oaks and
chestnuts, so as to be sheltered and almost concealed. The beach shelved gradually within
the cove, but the current swept deep, and
black, and rapid, along its jutting points. The
negro paused, raised his remnant of a hat, and
scratched his grizzled poll for a moment, as he
regarded this nook, then suddenly clapping
his hands, he stepped exultantly forward, and




62


raleo from Irrino


pointed to a large iron ring, stapled firmly in
the rock, just where a broad shelf of stone furnished a commodious landing-place. It was
the very spot where the red-caps had landed.
Years had changed the more perishable features
of the scene, but rock and iron yield slowly to
the influence of time. On looking more closely,
Wolfert remarked three crosses cut in the rock
just above the ring, which had no doubt some
mysterious signification. Old Sam now readily
recognized the overhanging rock under which
his skiff had been sheltered during the thundergust. To follow up the course which the midnight gang had taken, however, was a harder
task. His mind had been so much taken up on
that eventful occasion by the persons of the
drama, as to pay but little attention to the
scenes; and these places look so different by
night and day.  After wandering about for
some time, however, they came to an opening
among the trees which Sam thought resembled
the place. There was a ledge of rock of moderate height like a wall on one side, which he
thought might be the very ridge whence he had
overlooked the diggers. Wolfert examined it
narrowly, and at length discovered three crosses
similar to those on the above ring, cut deeply
into the face of the rock, but nearly obliterated
by moss that had grown over them. His heart




Tl~olfert  lecbber


63


leaped with joy, for he doubted not they were
the private marks of the buccaneers. All now
that remained was to ascertain the precise spot
where the treasure lay buried; for otherwise
he might dig at random   in the neighborhood of the crosses without coming upon the
spoils, and he had already had enough of such
profitless labor. Here, however, the old negro
was perfectly at a loss, and indeed perplexed
him by a variety of opinions; for his recollections were all confused. Sometimes he declared
it must have have been at the foot of a mulberry-tree hard by; then beside a great white
stone; then under a small green knoll, a short
distance from the ledge of rocks; until at
length Wolfert became as bewildered as himself.
The shadows of evening were now spreading
themselves over the woods, and rock and tree
began to mingle together. It was evidently too
late to attempt any thing farther at present,
and, inded, Wolfert had come unprovided with
implements to prosecute his researches. Satisfied, therefore, with having ascertained the
place, he took note of all its landmarks, that he
might recognize it again, and set out on his
return homeward, resolved to prosecute this
golden enterprise without delay.
The leading anxiety which had hitherto abV,. IT. —1




64


'Calee8 f rom u rtno


sorbed every feeling being now in some measure appeased, fancy began to wander and to
conjure up a thousand shapes and chimeras as
he returned through this haunted region. Pirates hanging in chains seemed to swing from
every tree, and he almost expected to see some
Spanish Don, with his throat cut from ear to
ear, rising slowly out of the ground, and shaking the ghost of a money-bag.
Their way back lay through the desolate garden, and Wolfert's nerves had arrived at so
sensitive a state that the flitting of a bird, the
rustling of a leaf, or the falling of a nut, was
enough to startle him. As they entered the
confines of the garden, they caught sight of a
figure at a distance advancing slowly up one of
the walks, and bending under the weight of a
burden. They paused and regarded him attentively. He wore what appeared to be a woollen
cap, and, still more alarming, of a most sanguinary red.
The figure moved slowly on, ascended the
bank, and stopped at the very door of the sepulchral vault. Just before entering it he looked
around. What was the affright of \Wolfert
when he recognized the grizzly visage of the
drowned buccaneer! He uttered an ejaculation of horror.  The figure slowly raised his
iron fist, and shook it with a terrible menace.




TIoltert  lebber          65
Wolfert did not pause to see any more, but hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him, nor
was Sam slow in following after his heels, having all his ancient terrors revived.  Away,
then, did they scramble through bush and
brake, horribly frightened at every bramble
that tugged at their skirts; nor did they pause
to breathe until they had blundered their way
through this perilous wood, and fairly reached
the high road to the city.
Several days elapsed before Wolfert could
summon courage enough to prosecute the enterprise, so much had he been dismayed by the
apparition, whether living or dead, of the grizzly
buccaneer. In the meantime, what a conflict
of mind did he suffer! He neglected all his
concerns, was moody and restless all day, lost
his appetite, wandered in his thoughts and
words, and committed a thousand blunders.
His rest was broken; and when he fell asleep
the nightmare, in shape of a huge money-bag,
sat squatted upon his breast. He babbled
about incalculable sums; fancied himself engaged in money-digging; threw the bed-clothes
right and left, in the idea that he was shovelling away the dirt; groped under the bed in
quest of the treasure, and lugged forth, as he
supposed, an inestimable pot of gold.
Dame Webber and her daughter were in




66


6  aleo ftromn ~rvint


despair at what they conceived a returning
touch of insanity. There are two family oracles, one or other of which Dutch housewives
consult in all cases of great doubt and perplexity-the dominie and the doctor. In the present
instance they repaired to the doctor. There
was at that time a little dark mouldy man of
medicine, famous among the old housewives of
the Manhattoes for his skill not only in the
healing art, but in all matters of strange and
mysterious nature. I-s name was Dr. Knipperhausen, but he was more commonly known
by the appellation of the High-German Doctor.* To him did the poor women repair for
counsel and assistance touching the mental vagaries of Wolfert Webber.
They found the doctor seated in his little
study, clad in his dark camlet robe of knowledge, with his black velvet cap, after the manner of Boorhaave, Van Helmont, and other
medical sages; a pair of green spectacles set in
black horn upon his clubbed nose, and poring
over a German folio that reflected back the
darkness of his physiognomy. The doctor listened to their statement of the symptoms of
Wolfert's malady with profound attention; but
when they came to mention his raving about
* The same, no doubt, of whom mention is made in the
history of Dolph Heyliger.




Molfert 'ebber


67


buried money, the little man pricked up his
ears. Alas, poor women! they little knew the
aid they had called in.
Dr. Knipperhausen had been half his life
engaged in seeking the short cuts to fortune,
inquest of which so many a long lifetime is
wasted. He had passed some years of his youth
among the Harz mountains of Germany, and
had derived much valuable instruction from the
miners, touching the mode of seeking treasure
buried in the earth. He had prosecuted his
studies also under a travelling sage who united
the mysteries of medicine with magic and legerdemain. His mind therefore had become stored
with all kinds of mystic lore; he had dabbled a
little in astrology, alchemy, divination; knew
how to detect stolen money, and to tell where
springs of water lay hidden; in a word, by the
dark nature of his knowledge he had acquired
the name of the High-German Doctor, which is
pretty nearly equivalent to that of necromancer.
The doctor had often heard rumors of treasure
being buried in various parts of the island, and
had long been anxious to get on the traces of
it. No sooner were \Wolfert's waking and sleeping vagaries confided to him than he beheld in
them the confirmed symptoms of a case of
money-digging, and lost no time in probing it
to the bottom. Wolfert had long been sorely




6S


'aaco front ffrvtno


oppressed in mind by the golden secret, and as
a family physician is a kind of father confessor,
he was glad of any opportunity of unburdening
himself. So far from curing, the doctor caught
the malady from his patient. The circumstances
unfolded to him awakened all his cupidity; he
had not a doubt of money being buried somewhere in the neighborhood of the mysterious
crosses, and offered to join Wolfert in the
search. He informed him that much secrecy
and caution must be observed in enterprises of
the kind; that money is only to be digged for
at night, with certain forms and ceremonies,
and burning of drugs, the repeating of mystic
words, and above all, that the seekers must first
be provided with a divining rod, which had the
wonderful property of pointing to the very spot
on the surface of the earth under which treasures lay hidden. As the doctor had given much
of his mind to these matters, he charged himself with all the necessary preparations, and, as
the quarter of the moon was propitious, he undertook to have the divining rod ready by a
certain night.:'
*The following note was found appended to this
passage in the handwriting of Mr. Knickerbocker:
"There has been much written against the divining rod
by those light minds who are ever ready to scoff at the
mysteries of nature, but I fully join with Dr. Knipperhausen in giving it my faith. I shall not insist upon its
efficacy in discovering the concealment of stolen goods,




Wlolfert WUcbber                9
Wolfert's heart leaped with joy at having met
with so learned and able a coadjutor.    Every
thing went on secretly, but swimmingly. The
doctor had many consultations with his patient,
and the good woman of the household lauded
the comforting effect of his visits. In the meantime the wonderful divining rod, that great key
the boundary stones of fields, the traces of robbers and
murderers, or even the existence of subterraneous
springs and streams of water; aibeit, I think these
properties not to be readily discredited; but of its potency in discovering veins of precious metal, and lidden
sums of money and jewels, I have not the least doubt.
Some said that the rod turned only in the hands of persons who had been born in particular months ofthe
year, hence astrologers had recourse to planetary influence when they would procure a talisman. Others declared that the properties of the rod were either an effect
of chance, or the fraud of the holder, or the work of the
devil. Thus saith the reverend father Gaspard Sebett in
his Treatise on Magic: 'Propter haec et similia argumenta audacter ego promisero vim conversivam virgulae
bifurcate nequaquam naturalem esse, sed vel casu vel
fraude virgulam tractantis vel ope diaboli,' etc.
"Georgius Agricola also was of opinion that it was a
mere delusion of the devil to inveigle the avaricious and
unwary into his clutches, and in his treatise 'de re Metallica,' lays particular stress on the mysterious words
pronounced by those persons who employed the divining
rod during his time. But I make not a doubt that the
divining rod is one of those secrets of natural magic, the
mystery of which is to be explained by the sympathies
existing between physical things operated upon by the
planets, and rendered efficacious by the strong faith of
the individual. Let the divining rod be properly gathered at the proper time of the moon, cut into the proper
form, used with the necessary ceremonies, and with a
perfect faith in its efficacy, and I can confidently recommend it to my fellow-citizens as an infallible means of
discovering the places on the Island of the Manhattoes
where treasure hath been buried in the olden time.
"D. K.'




70


Ualue from Irvingg


to nature's secrets, was duly prepared. The
doctor had thumbed over all his books of knowledge for the occasion; and the black fisherman
was engaged to take them in his skiff to the
scene of enterprise; to work with spade and
pickaxe in unearthing the treasure; and to
freight his bark with the weighty spoils they
were certain of finding.
At length the appointed night arrived for this
perilous undertaking. Before Wolfert left his
home he counselled his wife and daughter to go
to bed, and feel no alarm if he should not return
during the night. Like reasonable women, on
being told not to feel alarm, they fell immediately into a panic. They saw at once by his
manner that something unusual was in agitation; all their fears about the unsettled state of
his mind were revived with tenfold force; they
hung about him, entreating him not to expose
himself to the night air, but all in vain. When
once Wolfert was mounted on his hobby, it way
no easy matter to get him out of the saddle. It
was a clear starlight night when he issued out
of the portal of the Webber palace. He wore a
large flapped hat tied under the chin with a
handkerchief of his daughter's to secure him
from the night damp, while Dame Webber
threw her long red cloak about his shoulders,
and fastened it round his neck.




tLWotfert W, cbber


7I


The doctor had been no less carefully armed
and accoutred by his housekeeper, the vigilant
Frau Ilsy, and sallied forth in his camlet robe
by way of surcoat; his black velvet cap under
his cocked hat, a thick clasped book under his
arm, a basket of drugs and dried herbs in one
hand, and in the other the miraculous rod of
divination.
The great church-clock struck ten as Wolfert
and the doctor passed by the churchyard, and
the watchman bawled in hoarse voice a long
and doleful "All's well " A deep sleep had
already fallen upon this primitive little burgh;
nothing disturbed this awful silence, excepting
now and then the bark of some profligate nightwalking dog, or the serenade of some romantic
cat. It is true, Wolfert fancied more than once
that he heard the sound of a stealthy footfall at
a distance behind them; but it might have
been merely the echo of their own steps along
the quiet streets. He thought also at one time
that he saw a tall figure skulking after themstopping when they stopped, and moving on as
they proceeded; but the dim and uncertain
lamp-light threw such vague gleams and shadows, that this might all have been mere fancy.
They found the old fisherman waiting for
them, smoking his pipe in the stern of the
skiff, which was moored just in front of his




72


Calez fronm Irrfng3


little cabin. A pickaxe and spade were lying in
the bottom of the boat, with a dark lantern,
and a stone bottle of good Dutch courage, in
which honest Sam no doubt put even more
faith than Dr. Knipperhausen in his drugs.
Thus then did these three worthies embark
in their cockle-shell of a skiff upon this nocturnal expedition, with a wisdom and valor
equalled only by the three wise men of Gotham
who adventured to sea in a bowl. The tide was
rising and running rapidly up the Sound. The
current bore them along, almost without the aid
of an oar. The profile of the town lay all in
shadow. Here and there a light feebly glimmered from some sick-chamber, or from the
cabin-window of some vessel at anchor in the
stream. Not a cloud obscured the deep starry
firmament, the lights of which wavered on the
surface of the placid river; and a shooting
meteor, streaking its pale course in the very
direction Lhey were taking, was interpreted by
the doctor into a most propitious omen.
In a little while they glided by the point of
Corlaer's Hook with the rural inn which had
been the scene of such night adventures. The
family had retired to rest, and the house was
dark and still. Wolfert felt a chill pass over
him as they passed the point where the buccaneer had disappeared. He pointed it out to




MQ1olfert Welcbber


73


Dr. Knipperhausen. While regarding it, they
thought they saw a boat actually lurking at the
very place; but the shore cast such a shadow
over the border of the water that they could
discern nothing distinctly. They had not proceeded far when they heard the low sounds of
distant oars, as if cautiously pulled. Sam plied
his oars with redoubled vigor, and knowing all
the eddies and currents of the stream, soon left
their followers, if such they were, far astern.
In a little while they stretched across Turtle
Bay and Kip's Bay, then shrouded themselves
in the deep shadows of the Manhattan shore,
and glided swiftly along, secure from observation. At length the negro shot his skiff into a
little cove, darkly embowered by trees, and
made it fast to the well-known iron ring. They
now landed, and lighting the lantern, gathered
their various implements and proceeded slowly
through the bushes.  Every sound startled
them, even that of their own footsteps among
the dry leaves; and the hooting of a screech
owl, from the shattered chimney of the neighboring ruin, made their blood run cold.
In spite of all WVolfert's caution in taking
note of the landmarks, it was some time before
they could find the open place among the trees,
where the treasure was supposed to be buried.
At length they came to the ledge of rock; and




74


Caltc from ~rvtfng


on examining its surface by the aid of the
lantern, Wolfert recognized the three mystic
crosses. Their hearts beat quick, for the momentous trial was at hand that was to determine
their hopes.
The lantern was now held by Wolfert Webber,
while the doctor produced the divining rod. It
was a forked twig, one end of which was
grasped firmly in each hand, while the centre,
forming the stem, pointed perpendicularly upwards. The doctor moved this wand about,
within a certain distance of the earth, from
place to place, but for some time without any
effect, while Wolfert kept the light of the lantern turned full upon it, and watched it with
the most breathless interest. At length the rod
began slowly to turn. The doctor grasped it
with greater earnestness, his hands trembling
with the agitation of his mind. The wand continued to turn gradually, until at length the
stem had reversed its position, and pointed perpendicularly downward, and remained pointing
to one spot as fixedly as the needle to the pole.
" This is the spot!" said the doctor, in an almost inaudible tone.
Wolfert's heart was in his throat.
"Shall I dig?" said the negro, grasping the
spade.
" Pols tausend, no! " replied the little doctor,




lIolfert Mebber


75


hastily. He now ordered his companions to
keep close by him, and to maintain the most
inflexible silence.  That certain precautions
must be taken and ceremonies used to prevent
the evil spirit which kept about buried treasure
from doing them any harm. He then drew a
circle about the place, enough to include the
whole party. He next gathered dry twigs and
leaves and made a fire, upon which he threw
certain drugs and dried herbs which he had
brought in his basket. A thick smoke rose,
diffusing a potent odor, savoring marvellously
of brimstone and assafcetida, which, however
grateful it might be to the olfactory nerves of
spirits, nearly strangled poor Volfert, and produced a fit of coughing and wheezing that made
the whole grove resound. Dr. Knipperhausen
then unclasped the volume which he had
brought under his arm, which was printed in red
and black characters in German text. While
XVolfert held the lantern, the doctor, by the aid
of his spectacles, read off several forms of conjuration in Latin and German. He then ordered
Sam to seize the pickaxe and proceed to work.
The close-bound soil gave obstinate signs of not
having been disturbed for many a year. After
having picked his way through the surface, Sam
came to a bed of sand and gravel, which he threw
briskly to right and left with the spade.




76


Caleo from 1rving


" Hark! " said Wolfert, who fancied he heard
a trampling among the dry leaves, and rustling
through the bushes. Sam paused for a moment,
and they listened. No footstep was near. The
bat flitted by them in silence; a bird, roused
from its roost by the light which glared up
among the trees, flew circling about the flame.
In the profound stillness of the woodland, they
could distinguish the current rippling along the
rocky shore, and the distant murmuring and
roaring of Hell-gate.
The negro continued his labors, and had already digged a considerable hole. The doctor
stood on the edge, reading formulae every now
and then from his black-letter volume, or throwing more drugs and herbs upon the fire; while
Wolfert bent anxiously over the pit, watching
every stroke of the spade. Any one witnessing
the scenes thus lighted up by fire, lantern, and
the reflection of Wolfert's red mantle, might
have mistaken the little doctor for some foul
magician, busied in his incantations, and the
grizzly-headed negro for some swart goblin,
obedient to his commands.
At length the spade of the fisherman struck
upon something that sounded hollow. The
sound vibrated to Wolfert's heart. He struck
his spade again.
"'T is a chest," said Sam.




'M~otfert W~ebber


77


" Full of gold, I '11 warrant it!" cried Wolfert,
clasping his hands with rapture.
Scarcely had he uttered the words when a
sound from above caught his ear. He cast up
his eyes, and lo! by the expiring light of
the fire he beheld, just over the disk of the rock,
what appeared to be the grim visage of the
drowned buccaneer, grinning hideously down
upon him.
XVolfert gave a loud cry, and let fall the lantern.  His panic communicated itself to his
companions. The negro leaped out of the
hole; the doctor dropped his book and basket,
and began to pray in German. All was horror
and confusion. The fire was scattered about,
the lantern extinguished. In their hurry-scurry
they ran against and confounded one another.
They fancied a legion of hobgoblins let loose
upon them, and that they saw, by the fitful
gleams of the scattered embers, strange figures,
in red caps, gibbering and ramping around
them. The doctor ran one way, the negro
another, and Wolfert made for the water side.
As he plunged struggling onwards through
brush and brake, he heard the tread of some
one in pursuit. He scrambled frantically forward. The footsteps gained upon him. He
felt himself grasped by his cloak, when suddenly his pursuer was attacked in turn: a fierce




78         Zale frotm 11rvinj
fight and struggle ensued-a pistol was discharged that lit up rock and bush for a second,
and showed two figures grappling together-all
was darker than ever. The contest continued
-the combatants clinched each other, and
panted, and groaned, and rolled among the
rocks. There was snarling and growling as of
a cur, mingled with curses, in which Wolfert
fancied he could recognize the voice of the buccaneer. He would fain have fled, but he was on
the brink of a precipice, and could go no
further.
Again the parties were on their feet; again
there was a tugging and struggling, as if
strength alone could decide the combat, until
one was precipitated fron the brow of the cliff,
and sent headlong into the deep stream that
whirled below. Wolfert heard the plunge, and
a kind of strangling, bubbling murmur, but the
darkness of the night hid every thing from him,
and the swiftness of the current swept every
thing instantly out of hearing.  One of the
combatants was disposed of, but whether friend
or foe, Wolfert could not tell, nor whether they
might not both be foes. He heard the survivor
approach, but his terror revived.  He saw,
where the profile of the rocks rose against the
horizon, a human form advancing. He could
not be mistaken; it must be the buccaneer.




Molf crt MIrX~ebber


79


Whither should he fly!-a precipice was on one
side-a murderer on the other. The enemy
approached-he was close at hand. Wolfert attempted to let himself down the face of the cliff.
His cloak caught in a thorne that grew on the
edge. He was jerked from off his feet, and held
dangling in the air, half choked by the string
with which his careful wife had fastened the
garment around his neck.  Wolfert thought
his last moment was arrived; already had he
committed his soul to St. Nicholas, when the
string broke, and he tumbled down the bank,
bumping from rock to rock, and bush to bush,
and leaving the red cloak fluttering like a
bloody banner in the air.
It was a long while before Wolfert came to
himself. When he opened his eyes, the ruddy
streaks of morning were already shooting up
the sky. He found himself grievously battered,
and laying in the bottom of a boat. He attempted to sit up, but was too sore and stiff to
move. A voice requested him in friendly accents to lie still. He t-rned his eyes towards
the speaker; it was Dirk Waldron. He had
dogged the party, at the earnest request of Dame
Webber and her daughter, who, with the laudable curiosity of their sex, had pried into the
secret consultations of Wolfert and the doctor.
Dirk had been complete y distanced in followVol. 1I.-6




80


Cales from 1rtvng


ing the light skiff of the fisherman, and had
just come in time to rescue the poor moneydigger from his pursuer.
Thus ended this perilous enterprise.  The
doctor and Black Sam severally found their way
back to the Manhattoes, each having some
dreadful tale of peril to relate.  As to poor
WNolfert, instead of returning in triumph laden
with bags of gold, he was borne home on a shutter, followed by a rabble-rout of curious urchins.
His wife and daughter saw the dismal pageant
from a distance, and alarmed the neighborhood
with their cries; they thought the poor man
had suddenly settled the great debt of nature in
one of his wayward moods. Finding him, however, still living, they had him speedily to bed,
and a jury of old matrons of the neighborhood assembled, to determine how he should be
doctored. The whole town was in a buzz with
the story of themoney-diggers. Many repaired
to the scene of the previous night'sadventures;
but though they found the very place of the
digging, they discovered nothing that compensated them for their trouble. Some say they
found the fragments of an oaken chest, and an
iron pot-lid, which savored strongly of hidden
money; and that in the old family vault there
were traces of bales and boxes: but this is all
very dubious.




molfert Mebber


8r


In fact, the secret of all this story has never
to this day been discovered; whether any treasure were ever actually buried at that place;
whether, if so, it were carried off at night by
those who had buried it; or whether it still remains there under the guardianship of gnomes
and spirits until it shall be properly sought for,
is all matter of conjecture. For my part, I incline to the latter opinion; and make no doubt
that great sums lie buried, both there and in
other parts of this island and its neighborhood,
ever since the times of the buccaneers and the
Dutch colonists; and I would earnestly recommend the search after them to such of my fellow-citizens as are not engaged in any other
speculations.
There were many conjectures formed, also,
as to who and what was the strange man of the
seas who had domineered over the little fraternity at Corlaer's Hook for a time; disappeared
so strangely, and reappeared so fearfully. Some
supposed him a smuggler stationed at that
place to assist his comrades in landing their
goods among the rocky coves of the island.
Others, that he was one of the ancient comrades
of Kidd, or Bradish, returned to convey away
treasures formerly hidden in the vicinity. The
only circumstance that throws any thing like a
vague light on this mysterious matter, is a re



82


'ates, from ~rvtng


port which prevailed of a strange foreign-built
shallop, with much the look of a picaroon, having been seen hovering about the Sound for
several days without landing or reporting herself, though boats were seen going to and from
her at night; and that she was seen standing
out of the mouth of the harbor, in the gray of
the dawn, after the catastrophe of the money,
diggers.
I must not omit to mention another report,
also, which I confess is rather apocryphal, of
the buccaneer, who was supposed to have been
drowned, being seen before daybreak, with a
lantern in his hand, seated astride of his great
sea-chest, and sailing through Hell-gate, which
just then began to roar and bellow with redoubled fury.
While all the gossip world was thus filled
with talk and rumor, poor Wolfert lay sick and
sorrowfully in his bed, bruised in body and
sorely beaten down in mind. His wife and
daughter did all they could to bind up his
wounds, both corporal and spiritual. The good
old dame never stirred from his bedside, where
she sat knitting from morning till night, while
his daughter busied herself about him with the
fondest care.  Nor did they lack assistance
from abroad. Whatever may be said of the desertion of friends in distress, they had no com



W~olfert 't-lebber            8


83


plaint of the kind to make. Not an old wife of
the neighborhood but abandoned her work to
crowd to the mansion of Wolfert Webber to inquire after his health, and the particulars of his
story. Not one came moreover without her little pipkin of pennyroyal, sage, balm, or other
herb tea, delighted at an opportunity of signalizing her kindness and her doctorship. What
drenchings did not the poor Wolfert undergo,
and all in vain! It was a moving sight to behold him wasting away day by day, growing
thinner and thinner, and ghastlier and ghastlier, and staring with rueful visage from under
an old patchwork counterpane, upon the jury of
matrons kindly assembled to sigh and groan and
look unhappy around him.
Dirk Waldron was the only being that seemed
to shed a ray of sunshine into this house of
mourning. He came in with cheery look and
manly spirit, and tried to reanimate the expiring heart of the poor money-digger, but it was
all ill vain. Wolfert was completely done over.
If any thing was wanting to complete his despair, it was a notice served upon him in the
midst of his distress, that the corporation were
about to run a new street through the very centre of his cabbage-garden. He now saw nothing
before him but poverty and ruin; his last reliance, the garden of his forefathers, was to be




84


'arCa   from  ~frvtng


laid waste, and what then was to become of his
poor wife and child?
His eyes filled with tears as they followed the
dutiful Amy out of the room one morning.
Dirk Waldron was seated beside him; Wolfert
grasped his hand, pointed after his daughter,
and for the first time since his illness broke the
silence he had maintained.
"I am going!" said he, shaking his head
feebly, " and when I am gone-my poor daughter '"
" Leave her to me, father! " said Dirk, manfully,-" I '11 take care of her! "
Wolfert looked up in the face of the cheery,
strapping youngster, and saw there was none
better able to take care of a woman.
"Enough," said he,-"she is yours!-and
now fetch me a lawyer-let me make my will
and die."
The lawyer was brought-a dapper, bustling,
round-headed little man, Roorback (or Rollebuck as it was pronounced) by name. At the
sight of him the women broke into loud lamentations, for they looked upon the signing of a
will as the signing of a death-warrant. Wolfert
made a feeble motion for them to be silent.
Poor Amy buried her face and her grief in the
bed-curtain. Dame Webber resumed her knitting to hide her distress, which betrayed itself




M!1olfert Mllebber


however in a pellucid tear, which trickled
silently down, and hung at the end of her
peaked nose; while the cat, the only uncon.
cerned member of the family, played with the
good dame's ball of worsted, as it rolled about
the floor.
Wolfert lay on his back, his night-cap drawn
over his forehead; his eyes closed; his whole
visage the picture of death. He begged the
lawyer to be brief, for he felt his end approaching, and that he had no time to lose. The lawyer nibbed his pen, spread out his paper, and
prepared to write.
" I give and bequeath," said Wolfert, faintly,
"nimy small farm-"
"What-all? " exclaimed the lawyer.
Wolfert half opened his eyes and looked upon
the lawyer.
"Yes-all," said he.
"What! all that great patch of land with
cabbages and sunflower, which the corporation
is just going to run a main street through?"
"The same," said Wolfert, with a heavy sigh,
and sinking back upon his pillow.
" I wish him joy that inherits it! " said the
little lawyer, chuckling, and rubbing his hands
involuntarily.
"What do you mean?" said Wolfert, again
opening his eyes.




86


'aCes from 11rvino


" That he '11 be one of the richest men in the
place!" cried little Rollebuck.
The expiring Wolfert seemed to step back
from the threshold of existence; his eyes again
lighted up; he raised himself in his bed, shoved
back his red worsted night-cap, and stared
broadly at the lawyer.
" You don't say so!" exclaimed he.
"Faith, but I do!" rejoined the other.
"Why, when that great field and that huge
meadow comes to be laid out in streets, and cut
up into snug building lots-why, whoever owns
it need not pull off his hat to the patroon!"
" Say you so? " cried Wolfert, half thrusting
one leg out of bed, " why, then I think I '11 not
make my will yet! "
To the surprise of everybody the dying man
actually recovered. The vital spark, which had
glimmered faintly in the socket, received fresh
fuel from the oil of gladness, which the little
lawyer poured into his soul. It once more
burnt up into a flame.
Give physic to the heart, ye who would revive
the body of a spirit-broken man! In a few
days Wolfert left his room; in a few days more
his table was covered with deeds, plans of
streets, and building lots. Little Rollebuck
was constantly with him, his right-hand man
and adviser; and instead of making his will,




Molfert W~lebber


87


assisted in the more agreeable task of making
his fortune. In fact Wolfert Webber was one
of those worthy Dutch burghers of the MIanhattoes whose fortunes have been made, in a manner, in spite of themselves; who have tenaciously held on to their hereditary acres, raising
turnips and cabbages about the skirts of the
city, hardly able to make both ends meet, until
the corporation has cruelly driven streets
through their abodes, and they have suddenly
awakened out of their lethargy, and, to their
astonishment, found themselves rich men.
Before many months had elapsed, a great
bustling street passed through the very centre
of the Webber garden, just where Wolfert had
dreamed of finding a treasure.  His golden
dream was accomplished; he did indeed find
an unlooked-for source of wealth; for, when
his paternal lands were distributed into building lots, and rented out to safe tenants, instead
of producing a paltry crop of cabbages, they
returned him an abundant crop of rent, inso
much that on quarter-day it was a goodly sight
to see his tenants knocking at the door, from
morning till night, each with a little round-bellied bag of money, a golden produce of the
soil.
The ancient mansion of his forefathers was
still kept up, but instead of being a little yellow



88


8  ale-9 fromn  Irvinoi


fronted Dutch house in a garden, it now stood
boldly in the midst of a street, the grand home
of the neighborhood; for Wolfert enlarged it
with a wing on each side, and a cupola or tearoom on top, where he might climb up and
smoke his pipe in hot weather; and in the
course of time the whole mansion was overrun
by the chubby-faced progeny of Amy WVebber
and Dirk Waldron.
As Wolfert waxed old, and rich, and corpulent, he also set up a great gingerbread-colored
carriage, drawn by a pair of black Flanders
mares, with tails that swept the ground; and
to commemorate the origin of his greatness, he
had for his crest a full-blown cabbage painted
on the pannels, with the pithy motto tHIIes
lk0pt, that is to say, ALL HEAD; meaning
thereby that he had risen by sheer head-work.
To fill the measure of his greatness, in the
fulness of time the renowned Ramm Rapelye
slept with his fathers, and Wolfert Webber succeeded to the leather-bottomed arm-chair, in
the inn-parlor at Corlaer's Hook, where he long
reigned greatly honored and respected, insomuch that he was never known to tell a story
without its being believed, nor to utter a joke
without its being laughed at.




MOUNTJOY:
OR, SOME PASSAGES OUT OF THE LIFE OF A
CASTLE-BUILDER.
WAS born among romantic scenery, in one
of the wildest parts of the Hudson, which
at that time was not so thickly settled as at
present. My father was descended from one of
the old Huguenot families that came over to
this country on the revocation of the Edict of
Nantz. He lived in a style of easy, rural independence, on a patrimonial estate that had been
for two or three generations in the family. He
was an indolent, good-natured man, took the
world as it went, and had a kind of laughing
philosophy, that parried all rubs and mishaps,
and served him in the place of wisdom. This
was the part of his character least to my taste;
for I was of an enthusiastic, excitable temperament, prone to kindle up with new schemes and
projects, and he was apt to dash my sallying




9o


9Cales from  ~ritno


enthusiasm by some unlucky joke, so that
whenever I was in a glow with any sudden
excitement I stood in mortal dread of his good'humor.
Yet he indulged me in every vagary, for I was
an only son, and of course a personage of importance in the household. I had two sisters
older than myself, and one younger. The former were educated in New York, under the eye
of a maiden aunt; the latter remained at home,
and was my cherished playmate, the companion
of my thoughts.  We were two imaginative
little beings, of quick susceptibility, and prone
to see wonders and mysteries in every thing
around us. Scarce had we learned to read, when
our mother made us holiday presents of all the
nursery literature of the day, which at that
time consisted of little books covered with gilt
paper, adorned with "cuts," and filled with
tales of fairies, giants, and enchanters. What
draughts of delightful fiction did we then inhale! {My sister Sophy was of a soft and tender nature. She would weep over the woes of
the Children in the Wood, or quake at the dark
romance of Blue-Beard, and the terrible mysteries of the blue chamber. But I was all for
enterprise and adventure. I burned to emulate
the deeds of that heroic prince who delivered
the white cat from her enchantment, or he of




/Iountjop


9I


no less royal blood and doughty emprise, who
broke the enchanted slumber of the Beauty in
the Wood!
The house in which we lived was just the
kind of place to foster such propensities. It
was a venerable mansion, half villa, half farmhouse.  The oldest part was of stone, with
loopholes for musketry, having served as a
family fortress in the time of the Indians. To
this there had been made various additions,
some of brick, some of wood, acording to the
exigencies of the moment; so that it was full
of nooks and crooks, and chambers of all sorts
and sizes. It was buried among willows, elms,
and cherry-trees, and surrounded with roses
and hollyhocks, with honeysuckle and sweetbrier clambering about every window. A brood
of hereditary pigeons sunned themselves upon
the roof; hereditary swallows and martins
built about the eaves and chimneys; and hereditary bees hummed about the flower-beds.
Under the influence of our story-books every
object around us now assumed a new character
and a charmed interest. The wild flowers were
no longer the mere ornaments of the fields, or
the resorts of the toilful bee; they were the
lurking-places of fairies. We would watch the
humming-bird, as it hovered around the trumpet-creeper at our porch, and the butterfly as it




92


tales trom Irrvintg~


flitted up into the blue air, above the sunny
tree-tops, and fancy them some of the tiny
beings from fairy-land. I would call to mind
all that I had read of Robin Goodfellow and
his power of transformation.  O how I envied him that power! How I longed to be able
to compress my form into utter littleness, to
ride the bold dragon-fly, swing on the tall
bearded grass, follow the ant into his subterraneous habitation, or dive into the cavernous
depths of the honeysuckle!
While I was yet a mere child, I was sent to a
daily school, about two miles distant.  The
school-house was on the edge of a wood, close
by a brook overhung with birches, alders, and
dwarf-willows. We of the school who lived at
some distance came with our dinners put up in
little baskets. In the intervals of school hours
we would gather round a spring, under a tuft of
hazel-bushes, and have a kind of picnic, interchanging the rustic dainties with which our
provident mothers had fitted us out. Then,
when our joyous repast was over, and my companions were disposed for play, I would draw
forth one of my cherished story-books, stretch
myself on the greensward, and soon lose myself
in its bewitching contents.
I became an oracle among my schoolmates,
on account of my superior erudition, and soon




Abountjor


93


imparted to them the contagion of my infected
fancy. Often in the evening, after school hours,
we would sit on the trunk of some fallen tree in
the woods, and vie with each other in telling extravagant stories, until the whip-poor-will began
his nightly moaning, and the fire-flies sparkled
in the gloom. Then came the perilous journey
homeward. What delight we would take in
getting up wanton panics, in some dusky part
of the wood; scampering like frightened deer,
pausing to take breath, renewing the panic,
and scampering off again, wild with fictitious
terror!
Our greatest trial was to pass a dark, lonely
pool, covered with pond-lilies, peopled with
bull-frogs and water-snakes, and haunted by
two white cranes. Oh! the terrors of that
pond! How our little hearts would beat, as
we approached it; what fearful glances we
would throw around! And if by chance a
plash of a wild duck, or the guttural twang of
a bull-frog struck our ears, as we stole quietly
by-away we sped, nor paused until completely
out of the woods. Then, when I reached home,
what a world of adventures and imaginary
terrors would I have to relate to my sister
Sophy!
As I advanced in years, this turn.of mind increased upon me, and became more confirmed.




94


tales from ~rvuing


I abandoned myself to the impulses of a romantic imagination, which controlled my studies,
and gave a bias to all my habits. My father observed me continually with a book in my hand,
and satisfied himself that I was a profound student; but what were my studies? Works of
fiction, tales of chivalry, voyages of discovery,
travels in the East; every thing, in short, that
partook of adventure and romance.  I well
remember with what zest I entered upon that
part of my studies which treated of the heathen
mythology, and particularly of the sylvan deities. Then indeed my school-books became
dear to me. The neighborhood was well calculated to foster the reveries of a mind like
mine. It abounded with solitary retreats, wild
streams, solemn forests, and silent valleys. I
would ramble about for a whole day, with a
volume of Ovid's "Metamorphoses " in my
pocket, and work myself into a kind of selfdelusion, so as to identify the surrounding
scenes with those of which I had just been
reading. I would loiter about a brook that
glided through the shadowy depths of the
forest, picturing it to myself the haunt of
Naiades. I would steal round some bushy
copse that opened upon a glade, as if I expected to come suddenly upon Diana and her
nymphs; or to behold Pan and his satyrs




M/ountjio


95


bounding, with whoop and halloo, through the
woodland. I would throw myself, during the
panting heats of a summer noon, under the
shade of some wide-spreading tree, and muse
and dream away the hours, in a state of mental
intoxication. I drank in the very light of day,
as nectar, and my soul seemed to bathe with
ecstasy in the deep blue of a summer sky.
In these wanderings nothing occurred to jar
my feelings, or bring me back to the realities of
life. There is a repose in our mighty forests
that gives full scope to the imagination. Now
and then I would hear the distant sound of the
woodcutter's axe, or the crash of some tree
which he had laid low; but these noises, echoing along the quiet landscape, could easily be
wrought by fancy into harmony with its illusions. In general, however, the woody recesses
of the neighborhood were peculiarly wild and
unfrequented. I could ramble for a whole day,
without coming upon any traces of cultivation.
The partridge of the wood scarcely seemed to
shun my path, and the squirrel, from his nuttree, would gaze at me for an instant, with
sparkling eye, as if wondering at the unwonted
intrusion.
I cannot help dwelling on this delicious period
of my life; when as yet I had known no sorrow,
nor experienced any worldly care. I have since
Vol. II-7




96


talcs from ~rving


studied much, both of books and men, and of
course have grown too wise to be so easily
pleased; yet with all my wisdom, I must confess I look back with a secret feeling of regret
to the days of happy ignorance, before I had
begun to be a philosopher.
It must be evident that I was in a hopeful
training, for one who was to descend into the
arena of life, and wrestle with the world. The
tutor, also, who superintended my studies, in
the more advanced stage of my education, was
just fitted.to complete the fala morgana which
was forming in my mind. His name was Glencoe.
He was a pale, melancholy-looking man about
forty years of age; a native of Scotland, liberally
educated, and who had devoted himself to the
instruction of youth, from taste rather than necessity; for, as he said, he loved the human
heart, and delighted to study it in its earlier
impulses.  My two elder sisters, having returned home from a city boarding-school, were
likewise placed under his care, to direct their
reading in history and belles-lettres.
We all soon became attached to Glencoe. It
is true we were at first somewhat prepossessed
against him. His meagre, pallid countenance,
his broad pronunciation, his inattention to the
little forms of society, and an awkward and em



MountjoP


97


barrassed manner, on first acquaintance, were
much against him; but we soon discovered that
under this unpromising exterior existed the
kindest urbanity, the warmest sympathies, the
most enthusiastic benevolence. His mind was
ingenious and acute. His reading had been
various, but more abstruse than profound; his
memory was stored, on all subjects, with facts,
theories, and quotations, and crowded with
crude materials for thinking. These, in a moment of excitement, would be, as it were, melted down and poured forth in the lava of a
heated imagination. At such moments, the
change in the whole man was wonderful. His
meagre form would acquire a dignity and grace;
his long, pale visage would flash with a hectic
glow; his eyes would beam with intense
speculation; and there would be pathetic
tones and deep modulations in his voice, that
delighted the ear, and spoke movingly to the
heart.
But what most endeared him to us was the
kindness and sympathy with which he entered
into all our interests and wishes. Instead of
curbing ard checking our young imaginations
with the r< ins of sober reason, he was a little
too apt to catch the impulse, and be hurried
away with as. He could not withstand the excitement of any sally of feeling or fancy, and




98         'ates from ~irving
was prone to lend heightening tints to the illusive coloring of youthful anticipation.
Under his guidance my sisters and myself
soon entered upon a more extended range of
studies; but while they wandered, with delighted minds, through the wide field of history and
belles-lettres, a nobler walk was opened to my
superior intellect.
The mind of Glencoe presented a singular
mixture of philosophy and poetry. He was
fond of metaphysics, and prone to indulge in
abstract speculations, though his metaphysics
were somewhat fine-spun and fanciful, and his
speculations were apt to partake of what my
father most irreverently termed " humbug. "
For my part, I delighted in them, and the more
especially because they set my father to sleep,
and completely confounded my sisters. I entered, with my accustomed eagerness, into this
new branch of study. Metaphysics were now
my passion. My sisters attempted to accompany me, but they soon faltered, and gave out
before they had got half way through Smith's
"Theory of Moral Sentiments." I, however,
went on, exulting in my strength. Glencoe
supplied me with books, and I devoured them
with appetite, if not digestion. We walked
and talked together under the trees before the
house, or sat apart, like Milton's angels, and




M1ountjop


99


held high converse upon themes beyond the
grasp of ordinary intellects. Glencoe possessed
a kind of philosophic chivalry, in imitation of
the old peripatetic sages, and was continually
dreaming of romantic enterprises in morals,
and splendid systems for the improvement of
society. He had a fanciful mode of illustrating
abstract subjects, peculiarly to my taste, clothing them with the language of poetry, and
throwing round them almost the magic hues of
fiction. "How charming," thought I, "is divine philosophy"; not harsh and crabbed, as
dull fools suppose,
"But a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,
Where no crude surfeit reigns."
I felt a wonderful self-complacency at being
on such excellent terms with a man whom I
considered on a parallel with the sages of antiquity, and looked down with a sentiment of
pity on the feebler intellects of my sisters, who
coul'd comprehend nothing of metaphysics. It
is true, when I attempted to study them by myself I was apt to get in a fog; but when Glencoe
came to my aid, every thing was soon as clear
to me as day. My ear drank in the beauty of
his words; my imagination was dazzled with
the splendor of his illustrations. It caught up
the sparkling sands of poetry that glittered..,.........




00o        Cales from lrvitng


through his speculations, and mistook them for
the golden ore of wisdom. Struck with the
facility with which I seemed to imbibe and relish the most abstract doctrines, I conceived a
still higher opinion of my mental powers, and
was convinced that I also was a philosopher.
I was now verging toward man's estate, and
though my education had been extremely irregular-following the caprices of my humor,
which I mistook for the impulses of my genius,
-yet I was regarded with wonder and delight
by my mother and sisters, who considered me
almost as wise and infallible as I considered
myself. This high opinion of me was strengthened by a declamatory habit, which made me
an oracle and orator at the domestic board.
The time was now at hand, however, that was
to put my philosophy to the test.
We had passed through a long winter, and
the spring at length opened upon us with
unusual sweetness. The soft serenity of the
weather, the beauty of the surrounding country, the joyous notes of the birds, the balmy
breath of flower and blossom, all combined to
fill my bosom with indistinct sensations and
nameless wishes. Amid the soft seductions of
the season I lapsed into a state of utter indolence, both of body and mind.




Mount'Wr


101


Philosophy had lost its charms for me. Metaphysics-faugh! I tried to study; took down
volume after volume, ran my eye vacantly over
a few pages, and threw them by with distaste.
I loitered about the house, with my hands in
my pockets, and an air of complete vacancy.
Something was necessary to make me happy:
but what was that something? I sauntered to
the apartments of my sisters, hoping their conversation might amuse me. They had walked
out, and the room was vacant. On the table
lay a volume which they had been reading. It
was a novel. I had never read a novel, having
conceived a contempt for works of the kind,
from hearing them universally condemned. It
x true, I had remarked they were universally
read; but I considered them beneath the attention of a philosopher, and never would venture
to read them, lest I should lessen my mental
superiority in the eyes of my sisters. Nay, I
had taken up a work of the kind, now and
then, when I knew my sisters were observing
me, looked into it for a moment, and then laid
it down, with a slight supercilious smile. On
the present occasion, out of mere listlessness, I
took up the volume, and turned over a few of
the first pages. I thought I heard some one
coming, and laid it down. I was mistaken; no
one was near, and what I had read tempted my




102        'ates from 1Irving
curiosity to read a little farther.  I leaned
against a window-frame, and in a few minutes
was completely lost in the story. How long I
stood there reading I know not, but I believe
for nearly two hours. Suddenly I heard my
sisters on the stairs, when I thrust the book
into my bosom, and the other two volumes,
which lay near, into my pockets, and hurried
out of the house to my beloved woods. Here I
remained all day beneath the trees, bewildered,
bewitched; devouring the contents of these
delicious volumes; and only returned to the
house when it was too dark to peruse their
pages.
This novel finished, I replaced it in my sister's
apartment, and looked for others. Their stock
was ample, for they had brought home all that
were current in the city; but my appetite demanded an immense supply. All this course of
reading was carried on clandestinely, for I was
a little ashamed of it, and fearful that my wisdom might be called in question; but this very
privacy gave it additional zest. It was "bread
eaten in secret"; it had the charm of a private
amour.
But think what must have been the effect of
such a course of reading on a youth of my temperament and turn of mind; indulged, too,
amidst romantic scenery, and in the romantic




113o u n t io


103


season of the year.  It seemed as if I had
entered upon a new scene of existence. A train
of combustible feelings were lighted up in me,
and my soul was all tenderness and passion.
Never was youth more completely love-sick,
though as yet it was a mere general sentiment,
and wanted a definite object. Unfortunately,
our neighborhood was particularly deficient in
female society, and I languished in vain for
some divinity, to whom I might offer up this
most uneasy burden of affections. I was at one
time seriously enamoured of a lady whom I saw
occasionally in my rides reading at the window
of a country-seat, and actually serenaded her
with my flute; when, to my confusion, I discovered that she was old enough to be my mother.
It was a sad damper to my romance; especially
as my father heard of it, and made it the subject
of one of those household jokes which he was
apt to serve up at every meal-time.
I soon recovered from this check, however, but
itwas only to relapse into a state of amorous excitement. I passed whole days in the fields, and
along the brooks; for there is something in the
tender passion that makes us alive to the beauties of nature. A soft sunshine morning infused
a sort of rapture into my breast; I flung open
my arms, like the Grecian youth in Ovid, as if
I would take in and embrace the balmy atmos



104        'alte from Irvino
phere.* The song of the birds melted me to
tenderness. I would lie by the side of some
rivulet for hours, and form garlands of the flowers on its banks, and muse on ideal beauties,
and sigh from the crowd of undefined emotions
that swelled my bosom.
In this state of amorous delirium, I was strolling one morning along a beautiful wild brook
which I had discovered in a glen. There was
one place where a small waterfall, leaping from
among rocks into a natural basin, made a scene
such as a poet might have chosen as the haunt
of some shy Naiad. It was here I usually retired to banquet on my novels. In visiting the
place this morning, I traced distinctly, on the
margin of the basin, which was of fine clear
sand, the prints of a female foot, of the most
slender and delicate proportions. This was sufficient for an imagination like mine. Robinson
Crusoe himself, when he discovered the print of
a savage foot on the beach of his lonely island,
could not have been more suddenly assailed
with thick-coming fancies.
I endeavored to track the steps, but they only
passed for a few paces along the fine sand, and
then were lost among the herbage. I remained
gazing in revery upon this passing trace of loveliness. It evidently was not made by any of my
* Ovid's " Metamorphoses," Book vii.




/Iountjop


105


sisters, for they knew nothing of this haunt;
besides the foot was smaller than theirs; it was
remarkable for its beautiful delicacy.
My eye accidentally caught two or three halfwithered wild flowers, lying on the ground. The
unknown nymph had doubtless dropped them
from her bosom! Here was a new document of
taste and sentiment. I treasured them up as
invaluable relics. The place, too, where I found
them was remarkably picturesque, and the most
beautiful part of the brook. It was overhung
with a fine elm, entwined with grape-vines. She
who could select such a spot, who could delight
in wild brooks, and wild flowers, and silent
solitudes, must have fancy, and feeling, and tenderness; and, with all these qualities, she must
be beautiful!
But who could be this Unknown, that had
thus passed by, as in a morning dream, leaving
merely flowers and fairy footsteps to tell of her
loveliness! There was a mystery in it that bewildered me. It was so vague and disembodied,
like those "airy tongues that syllable men's
names" in solitude. Every attempt to solve
the mystery was vain. I could hear of no being in the neighborhood to whom this trace
could be ascribed. I haunted the spot, and
became more and more enamoured. Never,
surely, was passion more pure and spiritual,




Io6        Zales from  infotti
and never lover in more dubious situation. My
case could only be compared with that of the
amorous prince in the fairy tale of " Cinderella "; but he had a glass slipper on which to
lavish his tenderness. I, alas! was in love with
a footstep!
The imagination is alternately a cheat and a
dupe; nay, more, it is the most subtle of cheats,
for it cheats itself, and becomes the dupe of its
own delusions. It conjures up "airy nothings, I
gives to them a " local habitation and a name,"
and then bows to their control as implicitly as
if they were realities. Such was now my case.
The good Numa could not more thoroughly
have persuaded himself that the nymph Egeria
hovered about her sacred fountain, and communed with him in spirit, than I had deceived
myself into a kind of visionary intercourse with
the airy phantom fabricated in my brain. I constructed a rustic seat at the foot of the tree
where I had discovered the footsteps. I made
a kind of bower there, where I used to pass
my mornings, reading poetry and romances. I
carved hearts and darts on the tree, and hung it
with garlands. My heart was full to overflowing, and wanted some faithful bosom into which
it might relieve itself. What is a lover without
a confidante? I thought at once of my sister




M1ountjop


107


Sophy, my early playmate, the sister of my
affections. She was so reasonable, too, and of
such correct feelings, always listening to my
words as oracular sayings, and admiring my
scraps of poetry as the very inspirations of the
muse. From such a devoted, such a rational
being, what secrets could I have?
I accordingly took her, one morning, to my
favorite retreat. She looked around with delighted surprise upon the rustic seat, the bower,
the tree carved with emblems of the tender
passion.  She turned her eyes upon me to
inquire the meaning.
"0 Sophy," exclaimed I, clasping both her
hands in mine, and looking earnestly in her
face, "I am in love!"
She started with surprise.
" Sit down," said I, " and I will tell you all."
She seated herself upon the rustic bench, and
I went into a full history of the footstep, with
all the associations of idea that had been conjured up by my imagination.
Sophy was enchanted; it was like a fairy
tale; she had read of such mysterious visitations
in books, and the loves thus conceived were always for beings of superior order, and were always happy. She caught the illusion in all its
force; her cheek glowed; her eye brightened.
"I dare say she 's pretty," said Sophy.




io8        talae  from rIrving
" Pretty! " echoed I, " she is beautiful!" I
went through all the reasoning by which I had
logically proved the fact to my own satisfaction.
I dwelt upon the evidences of her taste-her
sensibility to the beauties of nature; her soft
meditative habit, that delighted in solitude.
"Oh," said I, clasping my hands, "to have
such a companion to wander through these
scenes; to sit with her by this murmuring
stream; to wreathe garlands round her brows;
to hear the music of her voice mingling with
the whisperings of these groves" —
" Delightful! delightful! " cried Sophy;
"what a sweet creature she must be! She is
just the friend I want. How I shall dote upon
her! Oh, my dear brother! you must not keep
her all to yourself. You must let me have some
share of her! "
I caught her to my bosom. "You shallyou shall! " cried I, "my dear Sophy; we will
all live for each other! "
The conversation with Sophy heightened the
illusions of my mind; and the manner in which
she had treated my day-dream, identified it
with facts and persons, and gave it still more
the stamp of reality. I walked about as one in
a trance, heedless of the world around, and
lapped in an elysium of the fancy.




ASountjop


I09


In this mood I met, one morning, with Glencoe. He accosted me with his usual smile, and
was proceeding with some general observations,
but paused and fixed on me an inquiring eye.
"What is the matter with you? " said he;
"you seem agitated; has any thing in particular happened?"
"Nothing," said I, hesitating; "at least
nothing worth communicating to you."
"Nay, my dear young friend," said he,
"whatever is of sufficient importance to agitate
you is worthy of being communicated to me."
"Well; but my thoughts are running on
what you would think a frivolous subject."
"No subject is frivolous that has the power
to awaken strong feelings."
" What think you," said I, hesitating, "what
think you of love? "
Glencoe almost started at the question. "Do
you call that a frivolous subject? " replied he.
"Believe me, there is none fraught with such
deep, such vital interest. If you talk, indeed,
of the capricious inclination awakened by the
mere charm of perishable beauty, I grant it to
be idle in the extreme; but that love which
springs from the concordant sympathies of virtuous hearts; that love which is awakened by
the perception of moral excellence, and fed by
meditation on intellectual as well as personal




no          tales from   rvinfl
beauty; that is a passion which refines and ennobles the human heart. Oh, where is there a
sight more nearly approaching to the intercourse of angels than that of two young beings,
free from the sins and follies of the world,
mingling pure thoughts, and looks, and feelings, and becoming as it were soul of one
soul, and heart of one heart! How exquisite
the silent converse that they hold; the soft
devotion of the eye, that needs no words to
make it eloquent! Yes, my friend, if there be
any thing in this weary world worthy of heaven,
it is the pure bliss of such a mutual affection! "
The words of my worthy tutor overcame all
farther reserve. "Mr. Glencoe," cried I, blushing still deeper, " I am in love! "
" And is that what you were ashamed to tell
me?   Oh, never seek to conceal from your
friend so important a secret. If your passion
be unworthy, it is for the steady hand of friendship to pluck it forth; if honorable, none but
an enemy would seek to stifle it. On nothing
does the character and happiness so much depend as on the first affection of the heart.
Were you caught by some fleeting or superficial
charm-a bright eye, a blooming cheek, a soft
voice, or a voluptuous form-I would warn you
to beware; I would tell you that beauty is but
a passing gleam of the morning, a perishable




bountjop


III


flower; that accident may becloud and blight
it, and that at best it must soon pass away.
But were you in love with such a one as I could
describe; young in years, but still younger in
feelings; lovely in person, but as a type of the
mind's beauty; soft in voice, in token of gentleness of spirit; blooming in countenance, like
the rosy tints of morning kindling with the
promise of a genial day; an eye beaming with
the benignity of a happy heart; a cheerful
temper, alive to all kind impulses, and frankly
diffusing its own felicity; a self-poised mind,
that needs not lean on others for support; an
elegant taste, that can embellish solitude, and
furnish out its own enjoyments — "
"My dear sir," cried I, for I could contain
myself no longer, "you have described the very
person!"
" Why then, my dear young friend," said he,
affectionately pressing my hand, "in God's
name, love on! "
For the remainder of the day I was in some
such state of dreamy beatitude as a Turk is
said to enjoy when under the influence of
opium. It must be already manifest how prone
I was to bewilder myself with picturings of the
fancy, so as to confound them with existing
realities. In the present instance Sophy and
Vol. II.-8




II2          ates ftrom  1rvifng
Glencoe had contributed to promote the transient delusion. Sophy, dear girl, had as usual
joined with me in my castle-building, and indulged in the same train of imaginings, while
Glencoe, duped by my enthusiasm, firmly believed that -I spoke of a being I had seen and
known. By their sympathy with my feelings,
they in a manner became associated with the
Unknown in my mind, and thus linked her
with the circle of my intimacy.
In the evening our family party was assembled in the hall to enjoy the refreshing breeze.
Sophy was playing some favorite Scotch airs on
the piano, while Glencoe, seated apart, with his
forehead resting on his hand, was buried in one
of those pensive reveries that made him so
interesting to me.
" What a fortunate being I am! " thought I,
"blessed with such a sister and such a friend!
I have only to find out this amiable Unknown,
to wed her, and be happy! What a paradise
will be my home, graced with a partner of such
exquisite refinement! It will be a perfect fairy
bower, buried among sweets and roses. Sophy
shall live with us, and be the companion of all
our enjoyments. Glencoe, too, shall no more
be the solitary being that he now appears. He
shall have his study, where, when he pleases,
he may shut himself up from the world, and




Mountjop              113
busy himself in his own reflections. His retreat
shall be held sacred; no one shall intrude
there; no one but myself, who 'will visit him
now and then, in his seclusion, where we will
devise grand schemes together for the improvement of mankind. How delightfully our days
will pass, in a round of rational pleasures and
elegant employments! Sometimes we will
have music; sometimes we will read; sometimes we will wander through the flower-garden,
when I will smile with complacency on every
flower my wife has planted; while in the long
winter evenings the ladies will sit at their work
and listen, with hushed attention, to Glencoe
and myself, as we discuss the abstruse doctrines
of metaphysics. "
From this delectable revery I was startled by
my father's slapping me on the shoulder:
"What possesses the lad?" cried he; "here
have I been speaking to you half a dozen times
without receiving an answer."
" Pardon me, sir, " replied I; " I was so completely lost in thought that I did not hear you."
"Lost in thought! And pray what were you
thinking of? Some of your philosophy, I suppose. "
"Upon my word," said my sister Charlotte,
with an arch laugh, " I suspect Harry 's in love
again.)"




114        wales from ~rvino
"And if I were in love, Charlotte," said I,
somewhat nettled, and recollecting Glencoe's
enthusiastic eulogy of the passion, " if I were in
love, is that a matter of jest and laughter? Is
the tenderest and most fervid affection that can
animate the human breast to be made a matter
of cold-hearted ridicule? "
My sister colored. " Certainly not, brother;
nor did I mean to make it so, nor to say any
thing that should wound your feelings. Had I
really suspected that you had formed some
genuine attachment, it would have been sacred
in my eyes; but-but," said she, smiling, as if
at some whimsical recollection, "I thought that
you-you might be indulging in another little
freak of the imagination. "
"I 'll wager any money," cried my father,
"he has fallen in love again with some old lady
at a window! "
" Oh, no! " cried my dear sister Sophy, with
the most gracious warmth; "she is young and
beautiful. "
" From what I understand," said Glencoe,
rousing himself, "she must be lovely in mind
as in person."
I found my friends were getting me into a
fine scrape. I began to perspire at every pore,
and felt my ears tingle.
"Well, but," cried my father, "<who is she?




Mountltor
-what is she? Let us hear something about
her."
This was no time to explain so delicate a
matter. I caught up my hat, and vanished out
of the house.
The moment I was in the open air, and alone,
my heart upbraided me. Was this respectful
treatment to my father-to such a father toowho had always regarded me as the pride of his
age-the staff of his hopes? It is true, he was
apt, sometimes, to laugh at my enthusiastic
flights, and did not treat my philosophy with
due respect; but when had he ever thwarted a
wish of my heart? Was I then to act with reserve toward him, in a matter which might
affect the whole current of my future life? " I
have done wrong," thought I; "but it is not
too late to remedy it. I will hasten back, and
open my whole heart to my father! "
I returned accordingly, and was just on the
point of entering the house, with my heart full
of filial piety, and a contrite speech upon my
lips, when I heard a burst of obstreperous
laughter from my father, and a loud titter from
my two elder sisters.
"A footstep! " shouted he, as soon as he
could recover himself; "in love with a footstep! why, this beats the old lady at the window!" And then there was another appalling




ii6        Wale from fIrtint
burst of laughter. Had it been a clap of thunder, it could hardly have astounded me more
completely. Sophy, in the simplicity of her
heart, had told all, and had set my father's risible propensities in full action.
Never was poor mortal so thoroughly crestfallen as myself. The whole delusion was at
an end. I drew off silently from the house,
shrinking smaller and smaller at every fresh
peal of laughter, and wandering about until
the family had retired, stole quietly to my bed.
Scarce any sleep, however, visited my eyes that
night. I lay overwhelmed with mortification,
and meditating how I might meet the family in
the morning. The idea of ridicule was always
intolerable to me; but to endure it on a subject
by which my feelings had been so much excited, seemed worse than death. I almost determined, at one time, to get up, saddle my
horse, and ride off, I knew not whither.
At length I came to a resolution. Before
going down to breakfast I sent for Sophy, and
employed her as an ambassador to treat formally in the matter. I insisted that the subject
should be buried in oblivion, otherwise I would
not show my face at table.  It was readily
agreed to; for not one of the family would
have given me pain for the world. They faithfully kept their promise. Not a word was said




oSountlop            117
of the matter; but there were wry faces, and
suppressed titters, that went to my soul; and
whenever my father looked me in the face, it
was with such a tragic-comic leer-such an attempt to pull down a serious brow upon a
whimsical mouth-that I had a thousand times
rather he had laughed outright.
For a day or two after the mortifying occurrence mentioned, I kept as much as possible
out of the way of the family, and wandered
about the fields and woods by myself. I was
sadly out of tune; my feelings were all jarred
and unstrung.  The birds sang from every
grove, but I took no pleasure in their melody;
and the flowers of the field bloomed unheeded
around me.   To be crossed in love is bad
enough; but then one can fly to poetry for relief, and turn one's woes to account in soulsubduing stanzas. But to have one's whole
passion, object and all, annihilated, dispelled,
proved to be such stuff as dreams are made of,
or, worse than all, to be turned into a proverb
and a jest-what consolation is there in snch a
case?
I avoided the fatal brook where I had seen
the footstep. My favorite resort was now the
banks of the Hudson, where I sat upon the
rocks and mused upon the current that dimpled




II8        Caleo from 1rvintt
by, or the waves.that laved the shore, or
watched the bright mutations of the clouds,
and the shining lights and shadows of the distant mountain. By degrees a returning serenity stole over my feelings, and a sigh now and
then, gentle and easy, and unattended by pain,
showed that my heart was recovering its susceptibility.
As I was sitting in this musing mood, my eye
became gradually fixed upon an object that was
borne along by the tide. It proved to be a little pinnace, beautifully modelled, and gayly
painted and decorated. It was an unusual
sight in this neighborhood, which was rather
lonely; indeed it was rare to see any pleasurebarks in this part of the river. As it drew
nearer, I perceived that there was no one on
board; it had apparently drifted from its anchorage. There was not a breath of air; the
bark came floating on the stream, wheeling
about with the eddies. At length it ran aground
almost at the foot of the rock on which I was
seated.  I descended to the margin of the
river, and drawing the bark to shore, admired
its light and elegant proportions, and the taste
with which it was fitted up. The benches were
covered with cushions, and its long streamer
was of silk.  On one of the cushions lay a
lady's glove, of delicate size and shape, with




Mountjop


I"9


beautifully tapered fingers.. I instantly seized
it and thrust it in my bosom; it seemed a
match for the fairy footstep that had so fascinated me.
In a moment all the romance of my bosom
was again in a glow. Here was one of the very
incidents of fairy tale; a bark sent by some invisible power, some good genius, or benevolent
fairy, to waft me to some delectable adventure.
I recollected something of an enchanted bark,
drawn by white swans, that conveyed a knight
down the current of the Rhine, on some enterprise connected with love and beauty. The
glove, too, showed that there was a lady fair
connected in the present adventure. It might
be a gauntlet of defiance, to dare me to the enterprise.
In the spirit of romance, and the whim of
the moment, I sprang on board, hoisted the
light sail, and pushed from shore. As if breathed
by some presiding power, a light breeze at that
moment sprang up, swelled out the sail, and
dallied with the silken streamer. For a time I
glided along under steep umbrageous banks, or
across deep sequestered bays; and then stood out
over a wide expansion of the river, toward a high
rocky promontory. It was a lovely evening;
the sun was setting in a congregation of clouds
that threw the whole heavens in a glow, and




I20        tales from Irrvino
were reflected in the river. I delighted myself
with all kinds of fantastic fancies, as to what
enchanted island, or mystic bower, or necromantic palace, I was to be conveyed by the
bark.
In the revel of my fancy, I had not noticed
that the gorgeous congregation of clouds which
had so much delighted me, was, in fact, a gathering thunder-gust. I perceived the truth too
late. The clouds came hurrying on, darkening
as they advanced. The whole face of nature
was suddenly changed, and assumed that baleful and livid tint predictive of a storm. I tried
to gain the shore: but, before I could reach it,
a blast of wind struck the water, and lashed it
at once into foam. The next moment it overtook the boat. Alas! I was nothing of a sailor,
and my protecting fairy forsook me in the moment of peril. I endeavored to lower the sail,
but in doing so I had to quit the helm; the
bark was overturned in an instant, and I was
thrown into the water. I endeavored to cling
to the wreck, but missed my hold; being a poor
swimmer, I soon found myself sinking, but
grasped a light oar that was floating by me. It
was not sufficient for my support; I again sank
beneath the surface; there was a rushing and
bubbling sound in my ears, and all sense forsook me.




Miountjop             I21
How long I remained insensible, I know not.
I had a confused notion of being moved and
tossed about, and of hearing strange beings and
strange voices around me; but all was like a
hideous dream. When I at length recovered
full consciousness and perception, I found myself in bed, in a spacious chamber, furnished
with more taste than I had been accustomed to.
The bright rays of a morning sun were intercepted by curtains of a delicate rose color, that
gave a soft, voluptuous tinge to every object.
Not far from my bed, on a classic tripod, was a
basket of beautiful exotic flowers, breathing
the sweetest fragrance.
" Where am I? How came I here?"
I tasked my mind to catch at some previous
event, from which I might trace up the thread
of existence to the present moment. By degrees I called to mind the fairy pinnace, my
disastrous shipwreck.  Beyond that all was
chaos. How came I here? What unknown
region had I landed upon? The people that
inhabited it must be gentle and amiable, and of
elegant tastes, for they loved downy beds, fragrant flowers, and rose-colored curtains.
While I lay thus musing, the tones of a harp
reached my ear. Presently they were accompanied by a female voice. It came from the
room below; but in the profound stillness of




122        tales from Irving
my chamber not a modulation was lost. My
sisters were all considered good musicians, and
sang very tolerably; but I had never heard a
voice like this. There was no attempt at difficult execution, or striking effect; but there
were exquisite inflexions, and tender turns,
which art could not reach. Nothing but feeling and sentiment could produce them. It was
soul breathed forth in sound. I was always
alive tothe influence of music; indeed I was susceptible of voluptuous influences of every kind,
-sounds, colors, shapes, and fragrant odors. I
was the very slave of sensation.
I lay mute and breathless, and drank in every
note of this siren strain. It thrilled through my
whole frame, and filled my soul with melody
and love. I pictured to myself, with curious
logic, the form of the unseen musician. Such
melodious sounds and exquisite inflexions could
only be produced by organs of the most delicate
flexibility. Such organs do not belong to coarse,
vulgar forms; they are the harmonious results
of fair proportions and admirable symmetry. A
being so organized must be lovely.
Again my busy imagination was at work. I
called to mind the Arabian story of a prince,
borne away during sleep by a good genius, to
the distant abode of a princess of ravishing
beauty. I do not pretend to say that I believed




tbountlop             I23
Xn having experienced a similar transportation;
but it was my inveterate habit to cheat myself
with fancies of the kind, and to give the tinge
of illusion to surrounding realities.
The witching sound had ceased, but its vibrations still played round my heart, and filled it
with a tumult of soft emotions. At this moment a self-upbraiding pang shot through my
bosom. "Ah, recreant! " a voice seemed to
exclaim, "is this the stability of thine affections? What! has thou so soon forgotten the
nymph of the fountain? Has one song, idly
piped in thine ear, been sufficient to charm
away the cherished tenderness of a whole summer? "
The wise may smile; but I am in a confiding
mood, and must confess my weakness. I felt a
degree of compunction at this sudden infidelity,
yet I could not resist the power of present fascination. My peace of mind was destroyed by
conflicting claims. The nymph of the fountain
came over my memory, with all the associations of fairy footsteps, shady groves, soft
echoes, and wild streamlets; but this new passion was produced by a strain of soul-subduing
melody, still lingering in my ear, aided by a
downy bed, fragrant flowers, and rose-colored
curtains. " Unhappy youth! " sighed I to myself, "distracted by such rival passions, and the




124        bates from trviin
empire of thy heart thus violently contested by
the sound of a voice and the print of a footstep!"
I had not remained long in this mood, when I
heard the door of the room gently opened. I
turned my head to see what inhabitant of this
enchanted palace should appear; whether page
in green, hideous dwarf, or haggard fairy. It
was my own man Scipio. He advanced with
cautious step, and was delighted, as he said, to
find me so much myself again. My first questions were as to where I was, and how I came
there? Scipio told me a long story of his having been fishing in a canoe, at the time of my
hare-brained cruise; of his noticing the gathering squall, and my impending danger; of his
hastening to join me, but arriving just in time
to snatch me from a watery grave; of the great
difficulty in restoring me to animation; and of
my being subsequently conveyed, in a state of
insensibility, to this mansion.
"But where am I?" was the reiterated demand.
"In the house of Mr. Somerville."
" Somerville-Somerville! " I recollected to
have heard that a gentleman of that name had
recentlytaken up his residence at some distance
from my father's abode, on the opposite side of




Iountjor


125


the Hudson. He was commonly known by the
name of " French Somerville," from having
passed part of his early life in France, and from
his exhibiting traces of French tastes in his
mode of living and the arrangements of his
house. In fact, it was in his pleasure-boat,
which had got adrift, that I had made my fanciful and disastrous cruise. All this was simple,
straightforward matter of fact, and threatened
to demolish all the cobweb romance I had been
spinning, when fortunately I again heard the
tinkling of a harp. I raised myself in bed, and
listened.
" Scipio," said I, with some little hesitation,
"I heard some one singing just now. Who was
it?"
"Oh, that was Miss Julia."
"Julia! Julia! Delightful! what a name.
And, Scipio-is she-is she pretty?"
Scipio grinned from ear to ear. " Except
Miss Sophy, she was the most beautiful young
lady he had ever seen."
I should observe, that my sister Sophia was
considered by all the servants a paragon of perfection.
Scipio now offered to remove the basket of
flowers; he was afraid their odor might be too
powerful; but Miss Julia had given them that
morning to be placed in my room.




126        CaIle  from Irving
These flowers, then, had been gathered by the
fairy fingers of my unseen beauty; that sweet
breath which had filled my ear with melody had
passed over them. I made Scipio hand them to
me, culled several of the most delicate, and laid
them on my bosom.
Mr. Somerville paid me a visit not long afterward. He was an interesting study for me, for
he was the father of my unseen beauty, and
probably resembled her. I scanned him closely.
He was a tall and elegant man, with an open,
affable manner, and an erect and graceful carriage. His eyes were bluish-gray, and, though
not dark, yet at times were sparkling and expressive. His hair was dressed and powdered,
and being lightly combed up from his forehead,
added to the loftiness of his aspect. He was
fluent in discourse, but his conversation had the
quiet tone of polished society, without any of
those bold flights of thought, and picturings of
fancy, which I so much admired.
My imagination was a little puzzled, at first,
to make out of this assemblage of personal and
mental qualities, a picture that should harmonize with my previous idea of the fair unseen. By
dint, however, of selecting what it liked, and rejecting what it did not like, and giving a touch
here and a touch there, it soon finished out a
satisfactory portrait.




Mount']or


I27


" Julia must be tall, " thought I, " and of exquisite grace and dignity. She is not quite so
courtly as her father, for she has been brought
up in the retirement of the country. Neither is
she of such vivacious deportment; for the tones
of her voice are soft and plaintive, and she loves
pathetic music. She is rather pensive-yet not
too pensive; just what is called interesting.
Her eyes are like her father's, except that they
are of a purer blue, and more tender and languishing. She has light hair-not exactly flaxen, for I do not like flaxen hair, but between
that and auburn. In a word, she is a tall, elegant, imposing, languishing, blue-eyed, romantic-looking beauty." And having thus finished
her picture, I felt ten times more in love with
her than ever.
I felt so much recovered, that I would at once
have left my room, but Mr. Somerville objected
to it. He had sent early word to my family of
my safety; and my father arrived in the course
of the morning. He was shocked at learning
the risk I had run, but rejoiced to find me so
much restored, and was warm in his thanks to
Mr. Somerville for his kindness. The other
only required, in return, that I might remain
two or three days as his guest, to give time for
my recovery, and for our forming a closer acVol. II.-9




12S        Cates from ~rtunt
quaintance, a request which my father readily
granted. Scipio accordingly accompanied my
father home, and returned with a supply of
clothes, and with affectionate letters from my
mother and sisters.
The next morning, aided by Scipio, I made my
toilet with rather more care than usual, and descended the stairs with some trepidation, eager
to see the original of the portrait which had
been so completely pictured in my imagination.
On entering the parlor, I found it deserted.
Like the rest of the house, it was furnished in a
foreign style. The curtains were of French silk;
there were Grecian couches, marble tables, pierglasses, and chandeliers. What chiefly attracted my eye, were documents of female taste that
I saw around me,-a piano, with an ample stock
of Italian music; a book of poetry lying on the
sofa; a vase of fresh flowers on a table, and a
portfolio open with a skilful and half-finished
sketch of them. In the window was a canarybird, in a gilt cage; and near by, the harp that
had been in Julia's arms. Happy harp! But
where was the being that reigned in this little
empire of delicacies?-that breathed poetry and
song, and dwelt among birds and flowers, and
rose-colored curtains?
Suddenly I heard the hall door fly open, the
quick pattering of light steps, a wild, capricious




tlountjop


I29


strain of music, and the shrill barking of a dog.
A light frolicking nymph of fifteen came tripping into the room, playing on a flageolet, with a
little spaniel romping after her. Her gypsy hat
had fallen back upon her shoulders; a profusion
of glossy brown hair was blown in rich ringlets
about her face, which beamed through them
with the brightness of smiles and dimples.
At sight of me she stopped short, in the most
beautiful confusion, stammered out a word or
two about looking for her father, glided out of
the door, and I heard her bounding up the
staircase, like a frightened fawn, with the little
dog barking after her.
When Miss Somerville returned to the parlor,
she was quiet a different being. She entered,
stealing along by her mother's side, with noiseless step and sweet timidity; her hair was prettily adjusted, and a soft blush mantled on her
damask cheek. Mr. Somerville accompanied
the ladies, and introduced me 'regularly to
them. There were many kind inquiries, and
much sympathy expressed on the subject of
my nautical accident, and some remarks upon
the wild scenery of the neighborhood, with
which the ladies seemed perfectly acquainted.
"-You must know," said Mr. Somerville,
"that we are great navigators, and delight in
exploring every nook and comer of the river.




130        Cales from ~rvtng
My daughter, too, is a great hunter of the picturesque, and transfers every rock and glen to
her portfolio. By the way, my dear, show Mr.
Mountjoy that pretty scene you have lately
sketched." Julia complied, blushing, and drew
from her portfolio a colored sketch. I almost
started at the sight. It was my favorite brook.
A sudden thought darted across my mind. I
glanced down my eye, and beheld the divinest
little foot in the world. Oh, blissful conviction! The struggle of my affections was at
an end. The voice and the footstep were no
longer at variance. Julia Somerville was the
nymph of the fountain!
What conversation passed during breakfast I
do not recollect, and hardly was conscious of at
the time, for my thoughts were in complete
confusion. I wished to gaze on Miss Somerville, but did not dare. Once, indeed, I ventured
a glance. She was at that moment darting a
similar one from under a covert of ringlets.
Our eyes seemed shocked by the rencontre, and
fell; hers through the natural modesty of her
sex, mine- through a bashfulness produced by
the previous workings of my imagination. That
glance, however, went like a sunbeam to my
heart.
A convenient mirror favored my diffidence,




MlIountjop


I3t


and gave me the reflection of Miss Somerville's
form. It is true, it only presented the back of
her head, but she had the merit of an ancient
statue; contemplate her from any point of view,
she was beautiful. And yet she was totally di~ferent from every thing I had before conceived
of beauty. She was not the serene, meditative
maid that I had pictured the nymph of the
fountain; nor the tall, soft, languishing, blueeyed, dignified being that I had fancied the
minstrel of the harp. There was nothing of
dignity about her: she was girlish in her appearance, and scarcely of the middle size; but
then there was the tenderness of budding youth;
the sweetness of the half-blown rose, when not
a tint or perfume has been withered or exhaled;
there were smiles and dimples, and all the soft
witcheries of ever-varying expression. I wondered that I could ever have admired any other
style of beauty.
After breakfast Mr. Somerville departed to
attend to the concerns of his estate, and gave
me in charge of the ladies. Mrs. Somerville
also was called away by household cares, and I
was left alone with Julia! Here then was the
situation which of all others I had most coveted.
I was in the presence of the lovely being that
had so long been the desire of my heart. We
were alone; propitious opportunity for a lover!




132         Caleo trom   lirving


Did I seize upon it? Did I break out in one of
my accustomed rhapsodies? No such thing!
Never was being more awkwardly embarrassed.
" What can be the cause of this? " thought I
"Surely I cannot stand in awe of this young
girl. I am of course her superior in intellect,
and am never embarrassed in company with
my tutor, notwithstanding all his wisdom."
It was passing strange. I felt that if she
were an old woman, I should be quite at my
ease; if she were even an ugly woman, I should
make out very well; it was her beauty that
overpowered me. How little do lovely women
know what awful beings they are in the eyes of
inexperienced youth! Young men brought up
in the fashionable circles of our cities will smile
at all this. Accustomed to minigle incessantly
in female society, and to have the romance of
the heart deadened by a thousand frivolous
flirtations, women are nothing but women in
their eyes; but to a susceptible youth like myself, brought up in the country, they are perfect
divinities.
Miss Somerville was at first a little embarrassed herself; but, somehow or other, women
have a natural adroitness in recovering their
self-possession; they are more alert in their
minds and graceful in their manners. Besides,
I was but an ordinary personage in Miss Som



ffountjop


'33


erville's eyes; she was not under the influence
of such a singular course of imaginings as had
surrounded her, in my eyes, with the illusions
of romance. Perhaps, too, she saw the confusion in the opposite camp, and gained courage
from the discovery. At any rate, she was the
first to take the field.
Her conversation, however, was only on commonplace topics, and in an easy, well-bred
style. I endeavored to respond in the same
manner; but I was strangely incompetent to
the task.  My ideas were frozen up; even
words seemed to fail me. I was excessively
vexed at myself, for I wished to be uncommonly
elegant. I tried two or three times to turn a
pretty thought, or to utter a fine sentiment;
but it would come forth so trite, so forced, so
mawkish, that I was ashamed of it. My very
-voice sounded discordantly, though I sought to
modulate it into the softest tones. " The truth
is," thought I to myself, "I cannot bring my
mind down to the small talk necessary for
young girls; it is too masculine and robust for
the mincing measure of parlor gossip. I am a
philosopher-and that accounts for it."
The entrance of Mrs. Somerville at length
gave me relief. I at once breathed freely, and
felt a vast deal of confidence come over me.
" This is strange," thought I, " that the appear



134        Ual{e  from PIrving
ance of another woman should revive my courage; that I should be a better match for two
women than one. However, since it is so, I
will take advantage of the circumstance, and let
this young lady see that I am not so great a
simpleton as she probably thinks me."
I accordingly took up the book of poetry
which lay upon the sofa.  It was Milton's
"Paradise Lost."  Nothing could have been
more fortunate; it afforded a fine scope for my
favorite vein of grandiloquence. I went largely
into a discussion of its merits, or rather an enthusiastic eulogy of them.  My observations
were addressed to Mrs. Somerville, for I found
I could talk to her with more ease than to her
daughter. She appeared perfectly alive to the
beauties of the poet, and disposed to meet me
in the discussion; but it was not my object to
hear her talk; it was to talk myself. I anticipated all she had to say, overpowered her with
the copiousness of my ideas, and supported and
illustrated them by long citations from the
author.
While thus holding forth, I cast a side glance
to see how Miss Somerville was affected. She
had some embroidery stretched on a frame before her, but had paused in her labor, and was
looking down, as if lost in mute attention. I
felt a glow of self-satisfaction; but I recollect



mtountjop


I35


ed, at the same time, with a kind of pique, the
advantage she had enjoyed over me in our Mtiea-Mle. I determined to push my triumph, and
accordingly kept on with redoubled ardor, until
I had fairly exhausted my subject, or rather my
thoughts.
I had scarce come to a full stop, when Miss
Somerville raised her eyes from the work on
which they had been fixed, and turning to her
mother, observed: "I have been considering,
mamma, whether to work these flowers plain or
in colors."
Had an ice-bolt been shot to my heart, it
could not have chilled me more effectually.
" What a fool," thought I, " have I been making myself,-squandering away fine thoughts
and fine language upon a light mind and an
ignorant ear! This girl knows nothing of poetry. She has no soul, I fear, for its beauties.
Can any one have real sensibility of heart, and
not be alive to poetry? However, she is
young; this part of her education has been
neglected; there is time enough to remedy it.
I will be her preceptor. I will kindle in her
mind the sacred flame, and lead her through
the fairy-land of song.  But, after all, it is
rather unfortunate that I should have fallen in
love with a woman who knows nothing of
poetry."




136         tales from ~rfing
I passed a day not altogether satisfactory. I
was a little disappointed that Miss Somerville
did not show more poetical feeling. "I am
afraid, after all," said I to myself, " she is light
and girlish, and more fitted to pluck wild flowers, play on the flageolet, and romp with little
dogs, than to converse with a man of my turn."
I believe, however, to tell the truth, I was
more out of humor with myself. I thought I
had made the worst first appearance that ever
hero made, either in novel or fairy-tale. I was
out of all patience when I called to mind my
awkward attempts at ease and elegance, in the
teMe-a-tie. And then my intolerable long lecture about poetry, to catch the applause of a
heedless auditor!  But there I was not to
blame. I had certainly been eloquent; it was
her fault that the eloquence was wasted. To
meditate upon the embroidery of a flower, when
I was expatiating on the beauties of Milton!
She might at least have admired the poetry, if
she did not relish the manner in which it was
delivered; though that was not despicable, for
I had recited passages in my best style, which
my mother and sisters had always considered
equal to a play. "Oh, it is evident," thought
I, " Miss Somerville has very little soul! "
Such were my fancies and cogitations during
the day, the greater part of which was spent




m~ountjop             r37
in my chamber, for I was still languid. My
evening w-cs passed in the drawing-room, where
I overlooked Miss Somerville's portfolio of
sketches.  They were executed with great
taste, and showed a nice observation of the
peculiarities of nature.  They were all her
own, and free from those cunning tints and
touches of the drawing-master, by which young
ladies' drawings, like their heads, are dressed
up for company.   There was no garish and
vulgar trick of colors, either; all was executed
with singular truth and simplicity.
"And yet," thought I, "this little being,
who has so pure an eye to take in, as in a limpid brook, all the graceful forms and magic
tints of nature, has no soul for poetry! "
Mr. Somerville, toward the latter part of the
evening, observing my eye to wander occasionally to the harp, interpreted and met my wishes
with his accustomed civility.
"Julia, my dear," said he, "Mr. Mountjoy
would like to hear a little music from your
harp; let us hear, too, the sound of your
voice. "
Julia immediately complied, without any of
that hesitation and difficulty by which young
ladies are apt to make the company pay dear
for bad music. She sang a sprightly strain, in
a brilliant style, that came trilling playfully




38           ales from ~rvint
over the ear, and the bright eye and dimpled
smile showed that her litte heart danced with
the song. Her pet Canary - bird, who hung
close by, was wakened by the music, and burst
forth into an emulating strain. Julia smiled
with a pretty air of defiance, and played louder.
After some time the music changed, and ran
into a plaintive strain in a minor key. Then it
was that all the former witchery of her voice
came over me; then it was that she seemed to
sing from the heart and to the heart. Her fingers moved about the chords as if they scarcely
touched them. Her whole manner and appearance changed; her eyes beamed with the softest
expression; her countenance, her frame,-all
seemed subdued into tenderness.  She rose
from the harp, leaving it still vibrating with
sweet sounds, and moved toward her father, to
bid him good-night.
His eyes had been fixed on her intently during
her performance. As she came before him, he
parted her shining ringlets with both his hands,
and looked down with the fondness of a father
on her innocent face. The music seemed still
lingering in its lineaments, and the action of
her father brought a moist gleam in her eye.
He kissed her fair forehead, after the French
mode of parental caressing: " Good-night, and
God bless you," said he, " my good little girl!"




MIountjot


'39


Julia tripped away with a tear in her eye, a
dimple in her cheek, and a light heart in her
bosom. I thought it the prettiest picture of
paternal and filial affection I had ever seen.
When I retired to bed a new train of thoughts
crowded into my brain. " After all, " said I to
myself, " it is clear this girl has a soul, though
she was not moved by my eloquence. She has
all the outward signs and evidences of poetic
feeling. She paints well, and has an eye for
nature. She is a fine musician, and enters into
the very soul of song. What a pity that she
knows nothing of poetry! But we will see
what is to be done. I am irretrievably in love
with her; what then am I to do? Come down
to the level of her mind, or endeavor to raise
her to some kind of intellectual equality with
myself? That is the most generous course.
She will look up to me as a benefactor. I shall
become associated in her mind with the lofty
thoughts and harmonious graces of poetry.
She is apparently docile; besides, the difference of our ages will give me an ascendancy
over her. She cannot be above sixteen years of
age, and I am full turned of twenty." So,
having built this most delectable of air-castles,
I fell asleep.
The next morning I was quite a different be



140o        sales from  frving
ing. I no longer felt fearful of stealing a glance
at Julia; on the contrary, I contemplated her
steadily, with the benignant eye of a benefactor.
Shortly after breakfast I found myself alone
with her, as I had on the preceding morning;
but I felt nothing of the awkwardness of our
previous tete-a-Itle. I was elevated by the consciousness of my intellectual superiority, and
should almost have felt a sentiment of pity for
the ignorance of the lovely little being, if I had
not felt also the assurance that I should be able
to dispel it. "But it is time," thought I, "to
open school."
Julia was occupied in arranging some music
on her piano.  I looked over two or three
songs; they were Moore's Irish Melodies.
"These are pretty things," said I, flirting the
leaves over lightly, and giving a slight shrug, by
way of qualifying the opinion.
" Oh, I love them of all things! " said Julia,
" they 're so touching! "
"Then you like them for the poetry? " said I,
with an encouraging smile.
"Oh yes; she thought them     charmingly
written."
Now was my time. "Poetry," said I, assuming a didactic attitude and air,-" poetry is one
of the most pleasing studies that can occupy a
youthful mind. It renders us susceptible of the




Abountiop


I4'


gentle impulses of humanity, and cherishes a
delicate perception of all that is virtuous and
elevated in morals, and graceful and beautiful
in physics. It- I
I was going on in a style that would have
graced a professor of rhetoric, when I saw a
light smile playing about Miss Somerville's
mouth, and that she began to turn over the
leaves of a music-book. I recollected her inattention to my discourse of the preceding morning.  "There is no fixing her light mind,"
thought I, "by abstract theory; we will proceed practically." As it happened, the identical volume of Milton's "Paradise Lost" was
lying at hand.
"Let me recommend to you, my young
friend," said I, in one of those tones of persuasive admonition, which I had so often loved in
Glencoe,-"let me recommend to you this admirable poem: you will find in it sources of intellectual enjoyment far superior to those songs
which have delighted you. " Julia looked at the
book, and then at me, with a whimsically dubious
air. "Milton's 'Paradise Lost'?" said she;
"oh, I know the greater part of that by heart."
I had not expected to find my pupil so far
advanced; however, the " Paradise Lost " is a
kind of school-book, and its finest passages are
given to young ladies as tasks.




142        Cales from I~rvini
" I find," said I to myself, " I must not treat
her as so complete a novice; her inattention,
yesterday, could not have proceeded from absolute ignorance, but merely from a want of
poetic feeling. I '11 try her again."
I now determined to dazzle her with my own
erudition, and launched into a harangue that
would have done honor to an institute. Pope,
Spenser, Chaucer, and the old dramatic writers,
were all dipped into, with the excursive flight
of a swallow. I did not confine myself to English poets, but gave a glance at the French and
Italian schools: I passed over Ariosto in full
wing, but paused on Tasso's "Jerusalem Delivered." I dwelt on the character of Clorinda:
"There's a character," said I, "that you will
find well worthy a woman's study. It shows to
what exalted heights of heroism the sex can
rise; how gloriously they may share even in
the stern concerns of men."
"For my part," said Julia, gently taking advantage of a pause,-" for my part, I prefer the
character of Sophronia."
I was thunderstruck.  She then had read
Tasso! This girl that I had been treating as an
ignoramus in poetry! She proceeded, with a
slight glow of the cheek, summoned up perhaps by a casual glow of feeling:
"I do not admire those masculine heroines,"




Mountjop


I43


said she, "who aim at the bold qualities of the
opposite sex. Now Sophronia only exhibits the
real qualities of a woman, wrought up to their
highest excitement. She is modest, gentle, and
retiring, as it becomes a woman to be; but she
has all the strength of affection proper to a woman. She cannot fight for her people, as Clorinda does, but she can offer herself up, and
die, to serve them. You may admire Clorinda,
but you surely would be more apt to love Sophronia; at least," added she, suddenly appearing to recollect herself, and blushing at
having launched into such a discussion,-" at
least, that is what papa observed, when we read
the poem together."
"Indeed," said I, dryly, for I felt disconcerted and nettled at being unexpectedly lectured by my pupil,-" indeed, I do not exactly
recollect the passage."
"Oh," said Julia, "I can repeat it to you ";
and she immediately gave it in Italian.
Heavens and earth!-here was a situation!
I knew no more of Italian than I did of the
language of Psalmanazar.  What a dilemma
for a would-be-wise man to be placed in! I
saw Julia waited for my opinion.
"In fact," said I, hesitating, " I-I do not exactly understand Italian.
"Oh," said Julia, with the utmost naivet,
Vol. II.-io




1aleo from 1[rvtno
"I have no doubt it is very beautiful in the
translation. "
I was glad to break up school and get back
to my chamber, full of the mortification which
a wise man in love experiences on finding his
mistress wiser than himself.  "Translation!
translation!" muttered I to myself, as I jerked
the door shut behind me. "I am surprised my
father has never had me instructed in the modern
languages. They are all-important. What is
the use of Latin and Greek? No one speaks
them; but here, the moment I make my appearance in the world, a little girl slaps Italian
in my face. However, thank Heaven, alanguage
is easily learned. The moment I return home,
I '11 set about studying Italian; and to prevent
future surprise, I will study Spanish and German at the same time; and if any young lady
attempts to quote Italian upon me again, I '11
bury her under a heap of High Dutch poetry!"
I felt now like some mighty chieftain, who
has carried the war into the weak country, with
full confidence of success, and been repulsed
and obliged to draw off his forces from before
some inconsiderable fortress.
"However,'" thought I, "I have as yet
brought only my light artillery into action; we
shall see what is to be done with my heavy
ordnance. Julia is evidently well versed in




Mountjop


145


poetry; but it is natural she should be so; it
is allied to painting and music, and is congenial
to the light graces of the female character. We
will try her on graver themes."
I felt all my pride awakened; it even for a
time swelled higher than my love. I was determined completely to establish my mental
superiority, and subdue the intellect of this
little being; it would then be time to sway the
sceptre of gentle empire, and win the affections
of her heart.
Accordingly at dinner I again took the field
en potence. I now addressed myself to Mr.
Somerville, for I was about to enter upon topics
in which a young girl like her could not be well
versed. I led, or rather forced, the conversation into a vein of historical erudition, discussing several of the most prominent facts of
ancient history, and accompanying them with
sound, indisputable apothegms.
Mr. Somerville listened to me with the air of
a man receiving information. I was encouraged, and went on gloriously from theme to
theme of school declamation. I sat with Marius
on the ruins of Carthage; I defended the bridge
with Horatius Codes; thrust my hand into the
flame with Martius Scaevola, and plunged with
Curtius into the yawning gulf; I fought side by
side with Leonidas, at the straits of Thermop



1i46       Calce from Ifrvitn
ylh; and was going full drive into the battle of
Platoea, when my memory, which is the worst
in the world, failed me just as I wanted the
name of the Lacedemonian commander.
"Julia, my dear," said Mr. Somerville, "perhaps you may recollect the name of which Mr.
Mountjoy is in quest? "
Julia colored slightly; " I believe," said she,
in a low voice,-" I believe it was Pausanias."
This unexpected sally, instead of reinforcing
me, threw my whole scheme of battle into confusion, and the Athenians remained unmolested
in the field.
I am half inclined, since, to think Mr. Somerville meant this as a sly hit at my schoolboy
pedantry; but he was too well bred not to seek
to relieve me from my mortification. "Oh!"
said he, "Julia is our family book of reference
for names, dates, and distances, and has an excellent memory for history and geography."
I now became desperate; as a last resource, I
turned to metaphysics. "If she is a philosopher in petticoats," thought I, "it is all over
with me."
Here, however, I had the field to myself. I
gave chapter and verse of my tutor's lectures,
heightened by all his poetical illustrations; I
even went farther than he had ever ventured,
and plunged into such depths of metaphysics,




Aloiltjop


147


that I was in danger of sticking in the mire at
the bottom. Fortunately, I had auditors who
apparently could not detect my flounderings.
Neither Mr. Somerville nor his daughter offered
the least interruption.
When the ladies had retired Mr. Somerville
sat some time with me; and as I was no longer
anxious to astonish, I permitted myself to
listen, and found that he was really agreeable.
He was quite communicative, and from his
conversation I was enabled to form a juster
idea of his daughter's character, and the mode
in which she had been brought up. Mr. Somerville had mingled much with the world, and
with what is termed fashionable society. He
had experienced its cold elegancies and gay
insincerities; its dissipation of the spirits, and
squanderings of the heart. Like many men of
the world, though he had wandered too far
from nature ever to return to it, yet he had the
good taste and good feeling to look back fondly
to its simple delights, and to determine that his
child, if possible, should never leave them. He
had superintended her education with scrupulous care, storing her mind with the graces of
polite literature, and with such a knowledge as
would enable it to furnish its own amusement
and occupation, and giving her all the accomplishments that sweeten and enliven the circle




148        'ales from  trvitnf
of domestic life. He had been particularly sedulous to exclude all fashionable affectations;
all false sentiment, false sensibility, and false
romance. " Whatever advantages she may possess," said he, "she is quite unconscious of
them. She is a capricious little being in every
thing but her affections; she is, however, free
from art; simple, ingenuous, innocent, amiable,
and, I thank God! happy."
Such was the eulogy of a fond father, delivered with a tenderness that touched me.  I
could not help making a casual inquiry whether,
among the graces of polite literature, he had
included a slight tincture of metaphysics. He
smiled, and told me he had not.
On the whole, when, as usual, that night, I
summed up the day's observations on my pillow, I was not altogether dissatisfied. " Miss
Somerville," said I, "loves poetry, and I like
her the better for it. She has the advantage of
me in Italian: agreed; what is it to know a
variety of languages, but merely to have a
variety of sounds to express the same idea?
Original thought is the ore of the mind; language is but the accidental stamp and coinage
by which it is put into circulation. If I can
furnish an original idea, what care I how many
languages she can translate it into? She may
be able also to quote names, and dates, and lat



Mountlop


'49


itude!5 better than I; but that is a mere effort of
the memory. I admit she is more accurate in
history and geography than I; but then she
knows nothing of metaphysics."
I had now sufficiently recovered to return
home; yet I could not think of leaving Mr.
Somerville without having a little further conversation with him on the subject of his daughter's education.
" This Mr. Somerville, " thought I, "is a very
accomplished, elegant man; he has seen a good
deal of the world, and, upon the whole, has
profited by what he has seen. He is not without information, and, as far as he thinks, appears to think correctly; but after all, he is
rather superficial, and does not think profoundly. He seems to take no delight in those metaphysical abstractions that are the proper aliment
of masculine minds." I called to mind various
occasions in which I had indulged largely in
metaphysical discussions, but could recollect no
instance where I had been able to draw him out.
He had listened, it is true, with attention, and
smiled as if in acquiescence, but had always
appeared to avoid reply. Besides, I had made
several sad blunders in the glow of eloquent
declamation; but he had never interrupted me,
to notice and correct them, as he would have
done had he been versed in the theme.




150        'ates from ~rvitno
"Now it is really a great pity," resumed I,
"that he should have the entire management
of Miss Somerville's education. What a vast
advantage it would be, if she could be put for a
little time under the superintendence of Glencoe. He would throw some deeper shades of
thought into her mind, which at present is all
sunshine; not but that Mr. Somerville has done
very well, as far as he has gone; but then he
has merely prepared the soil for the strong
plants of useful knowledge. She is well versed
in the leading facts of history, and the general
course of belles-lettres," said I; "a little more
philosophy would do wonders."
I accordingly took occasion to ask Mr. Somerville for a few moments' conversation in his
study, the morning I was to depart. NVhen we
were alone, I opened the matter fully to him.
I commenced with the warmest eulogium of
Glencoe's powers of mind, and vast acquirements, and ascribed to him all my proficiency
in the higher branches of knowledge. I begged,
therefore, to recommend him as a friend calculated to direct the studies of Miss Somerville;
to lead her mind, by degrees, to the contemplation of abstract principles, and to produce habits
of philosophical analysis; "which," added I,
gently smiling, " are not often cultivated by
young ladies." I ventured to hint, in addition,




mbountijop            15
that he would find Mr. Glencoe a most valuable and interesting acquaintance for himself;
one who would stimulate and evolve the powers
of his mind; and who might open to him tracts
of inquiry and speculation to which perhaps he
had hitherto been a stranger.
Mr. Somerville listened with grave attention.
When I had finished, he thanked me in the politest manner for the interest I took in the welfare of his daughter and himself. He observed
that, as regarded himself, he was afraid he was
too old to benefit by the instructions of Mr. Glencoe, and that as to his daughter, he was afraid
her mind was but little fitted for the study of
metaphysics. "I do not wish," continued he,
"to strain her intellects with subjects they cannot grasp, but to make her familiarly acquainted
with those that are within the limits of her capacity. I do not pretend to prescribe the boundaries of female genius, and am far from indulging the vulgar opinion that women are unfitted
by nature for the highest intellectual pursuits.
I speak only with reference to my daughter's
taste and talents. She will never make a
learned woman; nor in truth do I desire it;
for such is the jealousy of our sex, as to mental
as well as physical ascendancy, that a learned
woman is not always the happiest. I do not
wish my daughter to excite envy, nor to battle




I52        'afes from Urvino


with the prejudices of the world; but to glide
peaceably through life, on the good-will and
kind opinion of her friends. She has ample
employment for her little head in the course I
have marked out for her; and is busy at present
with some branches of natural history, calculated to awaken her perceptions to the beauties
and wonders of Nature, and to the inexhaustible
volume of wisdom constantly spread open before her eyes. I consider that women most
likely to make an agreeable companion, who
can draw topics of pleasing remark from every
natural object; and most likely to be cheerful
and contented, who is continually sensible of
the order, the harmony, and the invariable
beneficence that reign throughout the beautiful
world we inhabit.
"But," added he, smiling, " I am betraying
myself into a lecture, instead of merely giving
a reply to your kind offer. Permit me to take
the liberty, in return, of inquiring a little about
your own pursuits. You speak of having finished your education; but of course you have a
line of private study and mental occupation
marked out; for you must know the importance, both in point of interest and happiness,
of keeping the mind employed. May I ask
what system you observe in your intellectual
exercises? "




Mountjop


I53


"Oh, as to system," I observed, "I could
never bring myself into any thing of the kind.
I thought it best to let my genius take its own
course, as it always acted the most vigorously
when stimulated by inclination."
Mr. Somerville shook his head. "This same
genius," said he, "is a wild quality, that runs
away with our most promising young men. It
has become so much the fashion, too, to give it
the reins, that it is now thought an animal of
too noble and generous a nature to be brought
to the harness. But it is all a mistake. Nature
never designed these high endowments to run
riot through society, and throw the whole system into confusion. No, my dear sir; genius,
unless it acts upon system, is very apt to be a
useless quality to society; sometimes an injurious, and certainly a very uncomfortable one,
to its possessor. I have had many opportunities of seeing the progress through life of young
men who were accounted geniuses, and have
found it too often end in early exhaustion and
bitter disappointment; and have as often noticed that these effects might be traced to a
total want of system. There were no habits of
business, of steady purpose, and regular application superinduced upon the mind; every
thing was left to chance and impulse, and
native luxuriance, and every thing of course ran




154        tales from Irvino
to waste and wild entanglement. Excuse me
if I am tedious on this point, for I feel solicitous to impress it upon you, being an error extremely prevalent in our country, and one into
which too many of our youth have fallen. I am
happy, however, to observe the zeal which still
appears to actuate you for the acquisition of
knowledge, and augur every good from the elevated bent of your ambition. May I ask what
has been your course of study for the last six
months?"
Never was question more unluckily timed.
For the last six months I had been absolutely
buried in novels and romances.
Mr. Somerville perceived that the question
was embarrassing, and with his invariable good
breeding immediately resumed the conversation
without waiting for a reply. He took care,
however, to turn it in such a way as to draw
from me an account of the whole manner in
which I had been educated, and the various currents of reading into which my mind had run.
He then went on to discuss briefly, but impressively, the different branches of knowledge
most important to a young man in my situation,
and to my surprise I found him a complete master of those studies on which I had supposed
him ignorant, and on which I had been descanting so confidently.




3sountiop


I55


He complimented me, however, very graciously upon the progress I had made, but advised me for the present to turn my attention
to the physical rather than the moral sciences.
"These studies," said he, "store a man's mind
with valuable facts, and at the same time repress self-confidence, by letting him know how
boundless are the realms of knowledge, and
how little we can possibly know. Whereas
metaphysical studies, though of an ingenious
order of intellectual employment, are apt to bewilder some minds with vague speculations.
They never know how far they have advanced,
or what may be the correctness of their favorite
theory. They render many of our young men
verbose and declamatory, and prone to mistake
the aberrations of their fancy for the inspirations of divine philosophy."
I could not but interrupt him, to assent to
the truth of those remarks, and to say that it
had been my lot, in the course of my limited
experience, to encounter young men of the
kind, who had overwhelmed me by their verbosity.
Mr. Somerville smiled. "I trust," said he,
kindly, "that you will guard against these
errors. Avoid the eagerness with which a
young man is apt to hurry into conversation,
and to utter the crude and ill-digested notions




i56        Cales from Irvitng
which he has picked up in his recent studies.
Be assured that extensive and accurate knowledge is the slow acquisition of a studious lifetime; that a young man, however pregnant his
wit and prompt his talent, can have mastered
but the rudiments of learning, and, in a manner, attained the implements of study. Whatever may have been your past assiduity, you
must be sensible that as yet you have but
reached the threshold of true knowledge, but at
the same time you have the advantage that you
are still very young, and have ample time to
learn. "
Here our conference ended. I walked out of
the study a very different being from what I
was on entering it. I had gone in with the air
of a professor about to deliver a lecture; I came
out like a student, who had failed in his examination, and been degraded in his class.
"Very young," and "on the threshold of
knowledge "'! This was extremely flattering to
one who had considered himself an accomplished scholar and profound philosopher!
" It is singular," thought I; " there seems to
have been a spell upon my faculties ever since
I have been in this house. I certainly have not
been able to do myself justice. Whenever I
have undertaken to advise, I have had the
tables turned upon me. It must be that I am




ASountJor              157
strange and diffident among people I am not
accustomed to. I wish they could hear me
talk at home! "
"After all," added I, on further reflection,
" after all, there is a great deal of force in what
Mr. Somerville has said. Somehow or other
these men of the world do now and then hit
upon remarks that would do credit to a philosopher. Some of his general observations came
so home that I almost thought they were meant
for myself. His advice about adopting a system of study is very judicious. I will immediately put it in practice. My mind shall operate
henceforward with the regularity of clockwork."
How far I succeeded in adopting this plan,
how I fared in the further pursuit of knowledge,
and how I succeeded in my suit to Julia Somerville, may afford matter for a further communication to the public if this simple record of my
early life is fortunate enough to excite any curiosity.




THE EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH
RINGWOOD.
NOTED DOWN FROM HIS CONVERSATIONS: BY
GEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT.*
IAM   a Kentuckian by residence and choice,
but a Virginian by birth. The cause of my
first leaving the " Ancient Dominion," and emigrating to Kentucky, was a jackass!       You
stare, but have a little patience, and I '11 soon
show you how it came to pass. My father, who
was one of the old Virginian families, resided in
Richmond. He was a widower, and his domestic affairs were managed by a housekeeper of
*Ralph Ringwood, though a fictitious name, is a real
personage,-the late Governor Duval, of Florida. I have
given some anecdotes of his early and eccentric career,
in, as nearly as I can recollect, the very words in which
he related them. They certainly afford strong temptations to the embellishments of fiction: but I thought
them so strikingly characteristic of the individual, and
of the scenes and society into which his peculiar humors
carried him, that I preferred giving them in their original simplicity.




lRalpb 1RingwooZ)         159
the old school, such as used to administer the
concerns of opulent Virginian households. She
was a dignitary that almost rivalled my father
in importance, and seemed to think every thing
belonged to her; in fact, she was so considerate
in her economy, and so careful of expense, as
sometimes to vex my father, who would swear
she was disgracing him by her meanness. She
always appeared with that ancient insignia of
housekeeping trust and authority, a great bunch
of keys jingling at her girdle. She superintended the arrangements of the table at every
meal, and saw that the dishes were all placed
according to her primitive notions of symmetry.
In the evening she took her stand and served
out tea with a mingled respectfulness and pride
of station truly exemplary. Her great ambition
was to have every thing in order, and that the
establishment under her sway should be cited
as a model of good housekeeping. If any thing
went wrong, poor old Barbara would take it to
heart, and sit in her room and cry, until a few
chapters in the Bible would quiet her spirits,
and make all calm again. The Bible, in fact,
was her constant resort in time of trouble. She
opened it indiscriminately, and whether she
chanced among the Lamentations of Jeremiah,
the Canticles of Solomon, or the rough enumeration of the tribes in Deuteronomy, a chapter
Vol. II.-T




160        siatle from Irvoinq
was a chapter, and operated like balm to her
soul. Such was our good old housekeeper Barbara, who was destined, unwittingly, to have a
most important effect upon my destiny.
It came to pass, during the days of my juvenility, while I was yet what is termed "an
unlucky boy," that a gentleman of our neighborhood, a great advocate for experiments and
improvements of all kinds, took it into his head
that it would be an immense public advantage
to introduce a breed of mules, and accordingly
imported three jacks to stock the neighborhood. This in a part of the country where the
people cared for nothing but blood horses!
Why, sir, they would have considered their
mares disgraced, and their whole stud dishonored by such a mesalliance. The whole matter
was a town-talk, and a town-scandal.  The
worthy amalgamator of quadrupeds found himself in a dismal scrape,; so he backed out in
time, abjured the whole doctrine of amalgamation, and turned his jacks loose to shift for
themselves upon the town common.  There
they used to run about and lead an idle, goodfor-nothing, holiday life, the happiest animals
in the country.
It so happened that my way to school lay
across the common. The first time that I saw
one of these animals, it set up a braying and




tRalpb 1Ringwoob


i6i


frightened me confoundedly. However, I soon
got over my fright, and seeing that it had something of a horse look, my Virginian love for
any thing of the equestrian species predominated, and I determined to back it. I accordingly applied at a grocer's shop, procured a cord
that had been round a loaf of sugar, and made
a kind of halter; then summoning some of my
schoolfellows, we drove master Jack about the
common until we hemmed him in an angle of a
"worm-fence." After some difficulty, we fixed
the halter round his muzzle, and I mounted.
Up flew his heels, away I went over his head,
and off he scampered. However, I was on my
legs in a twinkling, gave chase, caught him,
and remounted. By dint of repeated tumbles I
soon learned to stick to his back, so that he
could no more cast me than he could his own
skin. From that time master Jack and his
companions had a scampering life of it, for we
all rode them between school hours and on
holiday afternoons; and you may be sure
schoolboys' nags are never permitted to suffer
the grass to grow under their feet. They soon
became so knowing that they took to their
heels at sight of a schoolboy; and we were generally much longer in chasing than we were in
riding them.
Sunday approached, on which I projected




i62        Calcs from lfrving
an equestrian excursion on one of these longeared steeds. As I knew the jacks would be in
great demand on Sunday morning, I secured
one over night, and conducted him home, to be
ready for an early outset. But where was I to
quarter him for the night? I could not put
him in the stable; our old black groom George
was as absolute in that domain as Barbara was
within doors, and would have thought his
stable, his horses, and himself disgraced by the
introduction of a jackass.  I recollected the
smoke-house, -an out-building appended to all
Virginian establishments, for the smoking of
hams and other kinds of meat. So I got the
key, put master Jack in, locked the door, returned the key to its place, and went to bed,
intending to release my prisoner at an early
hour, before any of the family were awake. I
was so tired, however, by the exertions I had
made in catching the donkey, that I fell into a
sound sleep, and the morning broke without
my waking.
Not so with dame Barbara, the housekeeper.
As usual, to use her own phrase, "she was up
before the crow put his shoes on," and bustled
about to get things in order for breakfast. Her
first resort was to the smoke-house. Scarce had
she opened the door, when masterJack, tired of
his confinement, and glad to be released from




lRalpb VtingwgooO


163


darkness, gave a loud bray, and rushed forth.
Down dropped old Barbara; the animal trampled over her, and made off for the common.
Poor Barbara! She had never before seen a
donkey; and having read in the Bible that the
Devil went about like a roaring lion, seeking
whom he might devour, she took it for granted
that this was Beelzebub himself. The kitchen
was soon in a hubbub; the servants hurried to
the spot. There lay old Barbara in fits; as fast
as she got out of one, the thoughts of the Devil
come over her, and she fell into another, for
the good soul was devoutly superstitious.
As ill luck would have it, among those attracted by the noise, was a little cursed, fidgety,
crabbed uncle of mine; one of those uneasy
spirits that cannot rest quietly in their beds in
the morning, but must be up early, to bother
the household. He was only a kind of halfuncle, after all, for he had married my father's
sister; yet he assumed great authority on the
strength of this left-handed relationship, and
was a universal intermeddler and family pest.
This prying little busybody soon ferreted out
the truth of the story, and discovered, by hook
and by crook, that I was at the bottom of the
affair, and had locked up the donkey in the
smoke-house. He stopped to inquire no further, for he was one of those testy curmudgeons




164        UalIe fromnt  rvtfn
with whom unlucky boys are always in the
wrong. Leaving old Barbara to wrestle in imagination with the Devil, he made for my
bed-chamber, where I still lay wrapped in
rosy slumbers, little dreaming of the mischief
I had done, and the storm about to break over
me.
In an instant I was awakened by a shower
of thwacks, and started up in wild amazement.
I demanded the meaning of this attack, but received no other reply than that I had murdered
the housekeeper; while my uncle continued
whacking away during my confusion. I seized
a poker, and put myself on the defensive. I
was a stout boy for my years, while my uncle
was a little wiffet of a man; one that in Kentucky we would not call even an " individual";
nothing more than a "remote circumstance." 1
soon, therefore, brought him to a parley, and
learned the whole extent of the charge brought
against me. I confessed to the donkey and the
smoke-house, but pleaded not guilty of the
murder of the housekeeper.  I soon found out
that old Barbara was still alive. She continued
under the doctor's hands, however, for several
days; and whenever she had an ill turn, my
uncle would seek to give me another flogging.
I appealed to my father, but got no redress. I
was considered an "unlucky boy," prone to all




lRalpb VRinowoob           165
kinds of mischief; so that prepossessions were
against me, in all cases of appeal.
I felt stung to the soul at all this. I had
been beaten, degraded, and treated with slighting when I complained. I lost my usual good
spirits and good humor; and, being out of tenmper with everybody, fancied everybody out of
temper with me. A certain wild, roving spirit
of freedom, which I believe is as inherent in
me as it is in the partridge, was brought into
sudden activity by the checks and restraints I
suffered. " I '11 go from home," thought I, " and
shift for myself. " Perhaps this notion was
quickened by the rage for emigrating to Kentucky which was at that time prevalent in Virginia. I had heard such stories of the romantic
beauties of the country, of the abundance of
game of all kinds, and of the glorious independent life of the hunters who ranged its noble
forests, and lived by the rifle, that I was as
much agog to get there as boys who live in seaports are to launch themselves among the wonders and adventures of the ocean.
After a time, old Barbara got better in mind
and body, and matters were explained to her;
and she became gradually convinced that it was
not the Devil she had encountered. W'hen she
heard how harshly I had been treated on her
account, the good old soul was extremely




i66        'alee from 11rvitng
grieved, and spoke warmly to my father in my
behalf. He had himself remarked the change
in my behavior, and thought punishment might
have been carried too far. He sought, therefore, to have some conversation with me, and
to soothe my feelings; but it was too late. I
frankly told him the course of mortification
that I had experienced, and the fixed determination I had made to go from home.
" And where do you mean to go?"
"To Kentucky."
"To Kentucky? Why, you know nobody
there."
"No matter; I can soon make acquaintances."
"And what will you do when you get
there?"
"Hunt!"
My father gave a long, low whistle, and
looked in my face with a serio-comic expression. I was not far in my teens, and to talk of
setting off alone for Kentucky, to turn hunter,
seemed doubtless the idle prattle of a boy. He
was little aware of the dogged resolution of my
character; and his smile of incredulity but
fixed me more obstinately in my purpose. I
assured him I was serious in what I said, and
would certainly set off for Kentucky in the
spring.




IRalpb tRinowooo)


I67


Month after month passed away. My father
now and then adverted slightly to what had
passed between us; doubtless for the purpose
of sounding me. I always expressed the same
grave and fixed determination. By degrees he
spoke to me more directly on the subject, endeavoring earnestly but kindly to dissuade
me. My only reply was, "I had made up my
mind."
Accordingly, as soon as the spring had
fairly opened, I sought him one day in his
study, and informed him I was about to set out
for Kentucky, and had come to take my leave.
He made no objection, for he had exhausted
persuasion and remonstrance, and doubtless
thought it best to give way to my humor, trusting that a little rough experience would soon
bring me home again. I asked for money for my
journey. He went to a chest, took out a long
green silk purse, well filled, and laid it on the
table. I now asked for a horse and servant.
"A horse!" said my father, sneeringly,
" why you would not go a mile without racing
him, and breaking your neck; and as to a servant, you cannot take care of yourself, much
less of him."
" How am I to travel, then?"
"Why, I suppose you are man enough to
travel on foot."




i68        Caleo from ~rving
He spoke jestingly, little thinking I would
take him at his word; but I was thoroughly
piqued in respect to my enterprise; so I podcheted the purse, went to my room, tied up three
or four shirts in a pocket-handkerchief, pat a
dirk in my bosom, girt a couple of pistols round
my waist, and felt like a knight-errant armed
cap-2-pie, and ready to rove the world in quest
of adventures.
My sister (I had but one) hung round me
and wept, and entreated me to stay. I felt my
heart swell in my throat, but I gulped it back
to its place, and straightened myself up; I
would not suffer myself to cry. I at length
disengaged myself from her, and got to the
door.
" When will you come back? " cried she.
" Never, by heaven! " cried I, " until I come
back a member of Congress from Kentucky. I
am determined to show that I am not the tailend of the family."
Such was my first outset fromn home. You
may suppose what a greenhorn I was, and how
little I knew of the world I was launching into.
I do not recollect any incident of importance, until I reached the borders of Pennsylvania. I had stopped at an inn to get some
refreshment; as I was eating in a back room, I
overheard two men in the bar-room conjecture




1Ralpb IRingwoob


I69


who and what I could be. One determined, at
length, that I was a runaway apprentice, and
ought to be stopped, to which the other assented. WVhen I had finished my meal, and
paid for it, I went out at the back-door, lest I
should be stopped by my supervisors. Scorning, however, to steal off like a culprit, I walked
round to the front of the house. One of the
men advanced to the front-door. He wore his
hat on one side, and had a consequential air
that nettled me.
"'Where are you going, youngster?" demanded he.
"That 's none of your business! " replied I,
rather pertly.
"Yes, but it is, though! You have run
away from home, and must give an account of
yourself."
He advanced to seize me, when I drew forth
a pistol. " If you advance another step I '11
shoot you! "
He sprang back as if he had trodden upon
a rattlesnake, and his hat fell off in the movement.
"Let him alone!" cried his companion;
"he 's a foolish, mad-headed boy, and don't
know what he 's about. He '11 shoot you, you
may rely on it."
He did not need any caution in the matter;




I70


I 70       Zalez fromt Irvvinc


he was afraid even to pick up his hat; so I
pushed forward on my way without molestation.
This incident, however, had its effect upon me.
I became fearful of sleeping in any house at
night, lest I should be stopped. I took my
meals in the houses, in the course of the day,
but would turn aside at night into some wood
or ravine, make a fire, and sleep before it. This
I considered was a true hunter's style, and I
wished to inure myself in it.
At length I arrived at Brownsville, legweary and wayworn, and in a shabby plight, as
you may suppose, having been " camping out"
for some nights past. I applied at some of the
inferior inns, but could gain no admission. I
was regarded for a moment with a dubious eye,
and then informed they did not receive footpassengers. At last I went boldly to the principal inn. The landlord appeared as unwilling
as the rest to receive a vagrant boy beneath his
roof, but his wife interfered in the midst of his
excuses, and, half-elbowing him aside," Where are you going, my lad? " said she.
"To Kentucky."
" What are you going there for? "
"To hunt."
She looked earnestly at me for a moment or
two. "Have you a mother living?" said she,
at length.




IRalpb Vingwoob


IiI


" No, madam; she has been dead for some
time."
"I thought so!" she cried, warmly.     I
knew if you had a mother living you would not
be here." From that moment the good woman
treated me with a mother's kindness.
I remained several days beneath her roof, recovering from the fatigue of my journey. While
here, I purchased a rifle, and practised daily at
a mark, to prepare myself for a hunter's life.
When sufficiently recruited in strength, I took
leave of my kind host and hostess, and resumed
my journey.
At Wheeling I embarked in a flat-bottomed
family boat, technically called a broad-horn, a
prime river conveyance in those days. In this
ark for two weeks I floated down the Ohio.
The river was as yet in all its wild beauty. Its
loftiest trees had not been thinned out. The
forest overhung the water's edge, and was occasionally skirted by immense canebrakes. Wild
animals of all kinds abounded. We heard them
rushing through the thickets and plashing in
the water. Deer and bears would frequently
swim across the river; others would come down
to the bank, and gaze at the boat as it passed.
I was incessantly on the alert with my rifle;
but, somehow or other, the game was never
within shot. Sometimes I got a chance to land




I72        UalIe  from Irving
and try my skill on shore. I shot squirrels, and
small birds, and even wild turkeys; but though I
caught glimpses of deer bounding away through
the woods, I never could get a fair shot at them.
In this way we glided in our broad-horn
past Cincinnati, the "Queen of the' West," as
it is now called, then a mere group of logcabins, and the site of the bustling city of
Louisville, then designated by a solitary house.
As I said before, the Ohio was as yet a wild
river; all was forest, forest, forest! Near the
confluence of Green River with the Ohio I
landed, bade adieu to the broad-horn, and struck
for the interior of Kentucky. I had no precise
plan; my only idea was to make for one of the
wildest parts of the country. I had relatives in
Lexington and other settled places, to whom I
thought it probable my father would write concerning me; so, as I was full of manhood and
independence, and resolutely bent on making
my way in the world without assistance or control, I resolved to keep clear of them all.
In the course of my first day's trudge I shot
a wild turkey, and slung it on my back for provisions. The forest was open and clear from
underwood. I saw deer in abundance, but always running, running! It seemed to me as if
these animals never stood still.
At length I came to where a gang of half



1Ralpb 1Ringjwoo'


173


starved wolves were feasting on the carcass of
a deer which they had run down, and snarling
and snapping, and fighting like so many dogs.
They were all so ravenous and intent upon
their prey that they did not notice me, and I
had time to make my observations. One, larger
and fiercer than the rest, seemed to claim the
larger share, and to keep the others in awe. If
any one came too near him while eating, he
would fly off, seize and shake him, and then
return to his repast. "This," thought I, " must
be the captain; if I can kill him, I shall defeat
the whole army." I accordingly took aim,
fired, and down dropped the old fellow. He
never budged; all the rest ran off, and my
victory was complete.
f(It would not be easy to describe my triumphant feelings on this great achievement. I
marched on with renovated spirit, regarding
myself as absolute lord of the forest. As night
drew near, I prepared for camping. MIy first
care was to collect dry wood and make a roaring fire to cook and sleep by, and to frighten
off wolves, and bears, and panthers. I then began to pluck my turkey for supper. I had
camped out several times in the early part of
my expedition; but that was in comparatively
more settled and civilized regions, where there
were no wild animals of consequence in the
*......




r74        tales from 1icvini
forest. This was my first camping out in the
real wilderness, and I was soon made sensible
of the loneliness and wildness of my situation.
In a little while a concert of wolves commenced; there might have been a dozen or
two, but it seemed to me as if there were thousands. I never heard such howling and whining. Having prepared my turkey, I divided it
into two parts, thrust two sticks into one of the
halves, and planted them on end before the
fire,-the hunter's mode of roasting. The smell
of roast meat quickened the appetites of the
wolves, and their concert became truly infernal.
They seemed to be all around me, but I could
only now and then get a glimpse of one of
them, as he came within the glare of the light))
I did not much care for the wolves, who I
knew to be a cowardly race, but I had heard
terrible stories of panthers, and began to fear
their stealthy prowlings in the surrounding
darkness. I was thirsty, and heard a brook bubbling and tinkling along at no great distance,
but absolutely dared not go there, lest some
panther might lie in wait and spring upon me.
By and by a deer whistled. I had never heard
one before, and thought it must be a panther.
I now felt uneasy lest he might climb the trees,
crawl along the branches overhead, and plump
down upon me; so I kept my eyes fixed on the!v!.. ~* *'




Ralpb IRfnowooD


175


branches until my head ached. I more than
once thought I saw fiery eyes glaring down
fromn among the leaves. At length I thought
of my supper, and turned to see if my half
turkey was cooked. In crowding so near the
fire, I had pressed the meat into the flames, and
it was consumed. I had nothing to do but
toast the other half, and take better care of it.
On that half I made my supper, without salt or
bread. I was still so possessed with the dread
of panthers, that I could not close my eyes all
night, but lay watching the trees until daybreak, when all my fears were dispelled with
the darkness; and as I saw the morning sun
sparkling down through the branches of the trees,
tI smiled to think how I suffered myself to be
dismayed by sounds and shadows; but I was a
young woodsman, and a stranger in Kentucky.
Having breakfasted on the remainder of my
turkey and slacked my thirst at the bubbling
stream, without further dread of panthers, I resumed my wayfaring with buoyant feelings. I
again saw deer, but, as usual, running, running!
I tried in vain to get a shot at them, and began
to fear I never should. I was gazing with vexation after a herd in full scamper, when I was
startled by a human voice. Turning round, I
saw a man at a short distance from me in a
hunting-dress.
Vol. II.-12




176         a1es[ trom 1trvtng
"What are you after, my lad? " cried he.
"Those deer," replied I, pettishly; "but it
seems as if they never stand still."
Upon that he burst out laughing. "Where
are you from? " said he.
"From Richmond."
"What! In old Virginny?"
"The same."
" And how on earth did you get here?"
"I landed at Green River from a broadhorn."
" And where are your companions?"
" I have none."
"What!-all alone?"
"Yes."
" Where are you going? "
"Anywhere."
"And what have you come here for? "
"To hunt."
"Well," said he, laughingly, "you '11 make
a real hunter; there 's no mistaking that!"
" Have you killed any thing? "
"Nothing but a turkey; I can't get within
shot of a deer; they are always running."
" Oh, I '11 tell you the secret of that. You 're
always pushing forward, and starting the deer
at a distance, and gazing at those that are
scampering; but you must step as slow and
silent and cautious as a cat, and keep your eyes




1RaIpb 1Rtngwooo          177
close around you, and lurk from tree to tree, if
you wish to get a chance at deer. But come, go
home with me.  Iy name is Bill Smithers; I
live not far off; stay with me a little while, and
I '11 teach you how to hunt."
I gladly accepted the invitation of honest
Bill Smithers. We soon reached his habitation,
a mere log-hut, with a square hole foi a window, and a chimney made of sticks and clay.
Here he lived, with a wife and cLild. He had
"girdled " the trees for an acre or two around,
preparatory to clearing a space for corn and
potatoes. In the meantime he maintained his
family entirely by his rifle, and I soon found
him to be a first-rate huntsman. Under his
tutelage I received my first effective lessons in
"woodcraft."
The more I knew of a hunter's life, the more
I relished it. The country, too, which had
been the promised land of my boyhood, did not,
like most promised lands, disappoint me. No
wilderness could be more beautiful than this
part of Kentucky in those times. The forests
were open and spacious, with noble trees, some
of which looked as if they had stood for centuries. There were beautiful prairies, too, diversified with groves and clumps of trees, which
looked like vast parks, and in which you could
see the deer running, at a great distance. In




178        Cales trom ~rving
the proper season, these prairies would be covered in many places with wild strawberries,
where your horse's hoofs would be dyed to the
fetlock. I thought there could not be another
place in the world equal to Kentucky-and I
think so still.
After I had passed ten or twelve days with
Bill Smithers I thought it time to shift my quarters, for his house was scarce large enough for
his own family, and I had no idea of being an
encumbrance to any one. I accordingly made
up my bundle, shouldered my rifle, took a
friendly leave of Smithers and his wife, and set
out in quest of a Nimrod of the wilderness, one
John Miller, who lived alone, nearly forty miles
off, and who I hoped would be well pleased to
have a hunting companion.
I soon found out that one of the most important items in woodcraft, in a new country,
was the skill to find one's way in the wilderness.  There were no regular roads in the
forests, but they were cut up and perplexed by
paths leading in all directions. Some of these
were made by the cattle of the settlers, and
were called " stock-tracks," but others had been
made by the immense droves of buffaloes which
roamed about the country from the flood until
recent times. These were called buffalo-tracks,
and traversed Kentucky from end to end, like




lRaIpb Riintwoob


I79


highways. Traces of them may still be seen in
uncultivated parts, or deeply worn in the rocks
where they crossed the mountains. I was a
young woodsman, and sorely puzzled to distinguish one kind of track from the other, or to
make out my course through this tangled labyrinth. While thus perplexed I heard a distant
roaring and rushing sound; a gloom stole over
the forest. On looking up, when I could catch
a stray glimpse of the sky, I beheld the clouds
rolled up like balls, the lower part as black as
ink. There was now and then an explosion,.ike a burst of cannonry afar off, and the crash
of a falling tree. I had heard of hurricanes in
the woods, and surmised that one was at hand.
It soon came crashing its way, the forest writhing, and twisting, and groaning before it. The
hurricane did not extend far on either side, but
in a manner ploughed a furrow through the
woodland, snapping off or uprooting trees that
had stood for centuries, and filling the air with
whirling branches. I was directly in its course,
and took my stand behind an immense poplar,
six feet in diameter. It bore for a time the full
fury of the blast, but at length began to yield.
Seeing it falling, I scrambled nimbly round the
trunk like a squirrel. Down it went, bearing
down another tree with it. I crept under the
trunk as a shelter, and was protected from other




i8o        Bale from Irving
trees which fell around me, but was sore all
over, from the twigs and branches driven
against me by the blast.
This was the only incident of consequence
that occurred on my way to John Miller's,
where I arrived on the following day, and was
received by the veteran with the rough kindness
of a backwoodsman.  He was a gray-haired
mnan, hardy and weather-beaten, with a blue
wart, like a great bead, over one eye, whence
he was nicknamed by the hunters. "Blue-bead
Miller." He had been in these parts from the
earliest settlements, and had signalized himself
in the hard conflicts with the Indians, which
gained Kentucky the appellation of "The
Bloody Ground." In one of these fights he had
had an arm broken; in another he had narrowly escaped, when hotly pursued, by jumping
from a precipice thirty feet high into a river.
Miller willingly received me into his house
as an inmate, and seemed pleased with the idea
of making a hunter of me. His dwelling was a
small log-house, with a loft or garret of boards,
so that there was ample room for both of us.
Under his instruction I soon made a tolerable
proficiency in hunting. My first exploit of any
consequence was killing a bear. I was hunting
in company with two brothers, when we came
apon the track of Bruin, in a wood where there




IRalpb 1Rin0Wo oo         81
was an undergrowth of canes and grapevines.
He was scrambling up a tree, when I shot him
through the breast; he fell to the ground and
lay motionless. The brothers sent in their dog,
who seized the bear by the throat Bruin raised
one arm, and gave the dog a hug that crushed
his ribs. One yell, and all was over. I don't
know which was first dead, the dog or the bear.
The two brothers sat down and cried like children over their unfortunate dog.  Yet they
were mere rough huntsmen, almost as wild
and untamable as Indians; but they were fine
fellows.
By degrees I became known, and somewhat
of a favorite among the hunters of the neighborhood; that is to say, men who lived within
a circuit of thirty or forty miles, and came
occasionally to see John SMiller, who was a patriarch among them. They lived widely apart,
in log-huts and wigwams, almost with the simplicity of Indians, and wellnigh as destitute of
the comforts and inventions of civilized life.
They seldom saw each other; weeks, and even
months would elapse without their visiting.
When they did meet, it was very much after
the manner of Indians; loitering about all day,
without having much to say, but becoming
communicative as evening advanced, and sitting
up half the night before the fire, telling hunt



I82        'Cale tfrom  Irving
ing-stories, and terrible tales of the fights of
the Bloody Ground.
Sometimes several would join in a distant
hunting expedition, or rather campaign. Expeditions of this kind lasted from November
until April, during which we laid up our stock
of summer provisions. We shifted our hunting-camps from place to place, according as we
found the game. They were generally pitched
near a run of water, and close by a canebrake,
to screen us from the wind. One side of our
lodge was open towards the fire. Our horses
were hoppled and turned loose in the canebrakes, with bells round their necks. One of
the party stayed at home to watch the camp,
prepare the meals, and keep off the wolves;
the others hunted. When a hunter killed a
deer at a distance from the camp, he would
open it and take out the entrails; then, climbing a sapling, he would bend it down, tie the
deer to the top, and let it spring up again, so as
to suspend the carcass out of reach of the
wolves. At night he would return to the camp,
and give an account of his luck. The next
morning early hLe would get a horse out of the
canebrake and bring home his game. That day
he would stay at home to cut up the carcass,
while the others hunted.
Our days were thus spent in silent and lonely




1Ralpb 'lRngwoob          I83
occupations.  It was only at night that we
would gather together before the fire and be
sociable. I was a novice, and used to listen
with open eyes and ears to the strange and wild
stories told by the old hunters, and believed
every thing I heard. Some of their stories bordered upon the supernatural. They believed
that their rifles might be spell-bound, so as not
to be able to kill a buffalo, even at arm's length.
This superstition they had derived from the indians, who often think the white hunters have
laid a spell upon their rifles. Miller partook of
this superstition, and used to tell of his rifle 's
having a spell upon it; but it often seemed to
me to be a shuffling way of accounting for a
bad shot. If a hunter grossly missed his aim,
he would ask, who shot last with his rifle,
and hint that he must have charmed it. The
sure mode to disenchant the gun was to shoot a
silver bullet out of it.
By the opening of spring we would generally have quantities of bear's meat and venison
salted, dried, and smoked, and numerous packs
of skins. We would then make the best of our
way home from our distant hunting-grounds,
transporting our spoils, sometimes in canoes
along the rivers, sometimes on horseback over
land, and our return would often be celebrated
by feasting and dancing, in true backwoods




r84


Ualeo from ~1rvitn


style. I have given you some idea of our hunting; let me now give you a sketch of our frolicking.
It was on our return from a winter's hunting in the neighborhood of Green River, when
we received a notice that there was to be a
grand. frolic at Bob Mosely's, to greet the hunters.  This Bob Mosely was a prime fellow
throughout the country. He was an indifferent
hunter, it is true, and rather lazy, to boot; but
then he could play the fiddle, and that was
enough to make him of consequence. There
was no other man within a hundred miles that
could play the fiddle, so there was no having a
regular frolic without Bob Mosely. The hunters, therefore, were always ready to give him a
share of their game in exchange for his music,
and Bob was always ready to get up a carousal
whenever there was a party returning from a
hunting expedition. The present frolic was to
take place at Bob Mosely's own house, which
was on the Pigeon-Roost Fork of the Muddy,
which is a branch of Rough Creek, which is a
branch of Green River.
Everybody was agog for the revel at Bob
Mosely's; and as all the fashion of the neighborhood was to be there, I thought I must brush
up for the occasion.  My leathern huntingdress, which was the only one I had, was some



rttalpb VinowooZ900


I85


what the worse for wear, it is true, and considerably japanned with blood and grease, but I
was up to hunting expedients. Getting into a
periogue, I paddled off to a part of the Gree:l
River where there was sand and clay, that might
serve for soap; then, taking off my dress, I
scrubbed and scoured it, until I thought it
looked very well. I then put it on the end of a
stick, and hung it out of the periogue to dry,
while I stretched myself very comfortably on
the green bank of the river. Unluckily a flow
struck the periogue, and tipped over the stick;
down went my dress to the bottom of the river,
and I never saw it more. Here was I, left almost in a state of nature. I managed to make
a kind of Robinson-Crusoe garb of undressed
skins, with the hair on, which enabled me to
get home with decency; but my dream of gayety and fashion was at an end, for how could I
think of figuring in high life at the PigeonRoost equipped like a mere Orson?
Old Miller, who really began to take some
pride in me, was confounded when he understood that I did not intend to go to Bob Mosely's; but when I told him my misfortune, and
that I had no dress, " By the powers," cried he,
"but you shall go, and you shall be the bestdressed and the best-mounted lad there!"
He immediately set to work to cut out andi




r86       'tales from Irrvifn
make up a hunting-shirt, of dressed deer-skin,
gayly fringed at the shoulders, and leggins of
the same fringed from hip to heel. He then
made me a rakish raccoon-cap, with a flaunting
tail to it, mounted me on his best horse; and I
may say, without vanity, that I was one of the
smartest fellows that figured on that occasion at
the Pigeon-Roost Fork of the Muddy.
It was no small occasion, either, let me tell
you. Bob Mosely's house was a tolerably large
bark shanty, with a clapboard roof; and there
were assembled all the young hunters and pretty girls of the country for many a mile round.
The young men were in their best huntingdresses, but not one could compare with mine;
and my raccoon-cap, with its flowing tail, was
the admiration of everybody. The girls were
mostly in doe-skin dresses, for there was no
spinning and weaving as yet in the woods, nor
any need of it. I never saw girls that seemed
to me better dressed, and I was somewhat of a
judge, having seen fashions at Richmond. We
had a hearty dinner, and a merry one, for there
was Jemmy Kiel, famous for raccoon-hunting,
and Bob Tarleton, and Wesley Pigman, and Joe
Taylor, and several other prime fellows for a
frolic, that made all ring again, and laughed
that you might have heard them a mile.
After dinner we began dancing, and were




ItRalpb TingttwooO


187


hard at it when, about three o'clock in the
afternoon, there was a new arrival-the two
daughters of old Simon Schultz; two young
ladies that affected fashion and late hours.
Their arrival had nearly put an end to all our
merriment.  I must go a little round about
in my story to explain to you how that happened.
As old Schultz, the father, was one day
looking in the canebrakes for his cattle, he
came upon the track of horses. He knew they
were none of his, and that none of his neighbors ha.l horses about that place. They must
be stray horses, or must belong to some traveller who had lost his way, as the track led nowhere. He accordingly followed it up, until
he came to an unlucky peddler, with two or
three pack-horses, who had been bewildered
among the cattle tracks, and had wandered for
two or three days among woods and canebrakes,
until he was almost famished.
Old Schultz brought him to his house, fed
him on venison, bear's meat, and hominy, and
at the end of a week put him in prime condition. The peddler could not sufficiently express his thankfulness, and when about to depart, inquired what he had to pay. Old Schultz
stepped back with surprise. "Stranger," said
he, "you have been welcome under my roof.




188        'ales from I[rving
I 've given you nothing but wild meat and
hominy, because I had no better, but have
been glad of your company. You are welcome
to stay as long as you please; but, by zounds!
if any one offers to pay Simon Schultz for food,
he affronts him! " So saying, he walked out in
a huff.
The peddler admired the hospitality of his
host, but could not reconcile it to his conscience
to go away without making some recompense.
There were honest Simon's two daughters, two
strapping, red-haired girls.  He opened his
packs and displayed riches before them of which
they had no conception; for in those days there
were no country stores in those parts, with
their artificial finery and trinketry; and this
was the first peddler that had wandered into
that part of the wilderness. The girls were for
a time completely dazzled, and knew not what
to choose; but what caught their eyes most
were two looking-glasses, about the size of a
dollar, set in gilt tin. They had never seen
the like before, having used no other mirror
than a pail of water. The peddler presented
them these jewels without the least hesitation;
nay, he gallantly hung them round their necks
by red ribbons, almost as fine as the glasses
themselves. This done, he took his departure,
leaving them as much astonished as two princ



1Ralpb 1lRintWoob         189
esses in a fairy tale, that had received a magic
gift from an enchanter.
It was with these looking-glasses hung round
their necks as lockets, by red ribbons, that
old Schultz's daughters made their appearance
at three o'clock in the afternoon, at the frolic
at Bob Mosely's, on the Pigeon-Roost Fork
of the Muddy.
By the powers, but it was an event! Such 4
a thing had never before been seen in Kentucky. Bob Tarleton, a strapping fellow, with
a head like a chestnut-burr, and a look like a
boar in an apple-orchard, stepped up, caught
hold of the looking-glass of one of the girls,
and gazing at it for a moment, cried out: "Joe
Taylor, come here! come here! I '11 be darn'd
if Patty Schultz aint got a locket that you
can see your face in, as clear as in a spring
of water! "
In a twinkle all the young hunters gathered
round old Schultz's daughters. I, who knew
what looking-glasses were, did not budge.
Some of the girls who sat near me were excessively mortified at finding themselves thus
deserted. I heard Peggy Pugh say to Sally
Pigman: " Goodness knows, it's well Schultz's
daughters is got them things round their necks,
for it's the first time the young men crowded
round them!"




9aleg f rom ~[rviu


I saw immediately the danger of the case.
We were a small community, and could not
afford to be split up by feuds. So I stepped up
to the girls, and whispered to them. " Polly,"
said I, "those lockets are powerful fine, and become you amazingly, but you don't consider
that the country is not advanced enough in
these parts for such things. You and I understand these matters, but these people don't.
Fine things like these may do very well in the
old settlements, but they won't answer at the
Pigeon-Roost Fork of the Muddy. You had
better lay them aside for the present, or we
shall have no peace."
Polly and her sister luckily saw their error:
they took off the lockets, laid them aside, and
harmony was restored; otherwise, I verily believe there would have been an end of our community.  Indeed, notwithstanding the great
sacrifice they made on this occasion, I do not
think old Schultz's daughters were ever much
liked afterwards among the young women.
This was the first time that looking-glasses
were ever seen in the Green River part of Kentucky.
I had now lived some time with old Miller,
and had become a tolerably expert hunter.
Game, however, began to grow scarce. The
buffalo had gathered together, as if by universal




lRalpb VRingwooZ'


19I


understanding, and had crossed the Mississippi,
never to return. Strangers kept pouring into
the country, clearing away the forests, and
building in all directions. The hunters began
to grow restive.  Jemmy Kiel, the same of
whom I have already spoken for his skill in
raccoon-catching, came to me one day. "I
can't stand this any longer,! said he, we 're
getting too thick here. Simon Schultz crowds
me so that I have no comfort of my life. "
"Why, how you talk!" said I; "Simon
Schultz lives twelve miles off."
"No matter; his cattle run with mine, and
I 've no idea of living where another man's
cattle can run with mine. That 's too close
neighborhood; I want elbow-room. This country, too, is growing too poor to live in; there 's
no game; so two or three of us have made up
our minds to follow the buffalo to the Missouri,
and we should like to have you of the party."
Other hunters of my acquaintance talked in
the same manner. This set me thinking; but
the more I thought the more I was perplexed. I
had no one to advise with; old Miller and his
associates knew of but one mode of life, and I
had no experience in any other, but I had a
wider scope of thought. When out hunting
alone I used to forget the sport, and sit for
hours together on the trunk of a tree, with rifle
VOL. I1-13




I92        Iale ftrom irvitn0
in hand, buried in thought, and debating with
myself: "Shall I go with Jemmy Kiel and his
company, or shall I remain here? If I remain
here, there will soon be nothing left to hunt.
But am I to be a hunter all my life? Have not
I something more in me than to be carrying a
rifle on my shoulder, day after day, and dodging
about after bears, and deer, and other brute
beasts?" My vanity told me I had; and I
called to mind my boyish boast to my sister,
that I would never return home until I returned
a member of Congress from Kentucky; but was
this the way to fit myself for such a station?
Various plans passed through my mind, but
they were abandoned almost as soon as formed.
At length I determined on becoming a lawyer.
True it is, I knew almost nothing. I had left
school before I had learnt beyond the " Rule of
Three." " Never mind," said I to myself, resolutely, "I am a terrible fellow for hanging on
to any thing when I 've once made up my
mind; and if a man has but ordinary capacity,
and will set to work with heart and soul, and
stick to it, he can do almost any thing." With
this maxim, which has been pretty much my
main stay throughout life, I fortified myself in
my determination to attempt the law. But how
was I to set about it? I must quit this forest
life, and go to one or other of the towns, where




1Ralpb IRinowooo


I93


I might be able to study and to attend the
courts. This, too, required funds. I examined
into the state of my finances. The purse given
me by my father had remained untouched, in
the bottom of an old chest up in the loft, for
money was scarcely needed in these parts. I
had bargained away the skins acquired in hunting, for a horse and various other matters, on
which, in case of need, I could raise funds. I
therefore thought I could make shift to maintain myself until I was fitted for the bar.
I informed my worthy host and patron, old
Miller, of my plan. He shook his head at my
turning nly back upon the woods when I was
in a fair way of making a first-rate hunter; but
he made no effort to dissuade me. I accordingly set off in September, on horseback, intending to visit Lexington, Frankfort, and
other of the principal towns, in search of a
favorable place to prosecute my studies. My
choice was made sooner than I expected. I had
put up one night at Bardstown, and found, on
inquiry, that I could get comfortable board and
accommodation in a private family for a dollar
and a half a week. I liked the place, and resolved to look no farther. So the next morning
I prepared to turn my face homeward, and take
my final leave of forest life.
I had taken my breakfast, and was waiting




194          ratels from  I1rving


for my horse, when, in pacing up and down the
piazza, I saw a young girl seated near a window,
evidently a visitor. She was very pretty, with
auburn hair and blue eyes, and was dressed in
white. I had seen nothing of the kind since I
had left Richmond, and at that time I was too
much of a boy to be much struck by female
charms. She was so delicate and dainty-looking, so different from the hale, buxom, brown
girls of the woods; and then her white dress!it was perfectly dazzling! Never was poor
youth more taken by surprise and suddenly
bewitched. My heart yearned to know her;
but how was I to accost her? I had grown
wild in the woods, and had none of the habitudes of polite life. Had she been like Peggy
Pugh, or Sally Pigman, or any other of my
leathern-dressed belles of the Pigeon Roost, I
should have approached her without dread;
nay, had she been as fair as Schultz's daughters,
with their looking-glass lockets, I should not
have hesitated; but that white dress and those
auburn ringlets, and blue eyes, and delicate
looks, quite daunted while they fascinated me.
I don't know what put it into my head, but I
thought, all at once, that I would kiss her! It
would take a long acquaintance to arrive at
such a boon, but I might seize upon it by sheer
robbery.  Nobody knew me here. I would




lRalpb 1RVnnwooO


I95


just step in, snatch a kiss, mount my horse,
and ride off. She would not be the worse for
it; and that kiss-oh! I should die if I did not
get it!
I gave no time for the thought to cool, but
entered the house and stepped lightly into the
room. She was seated with her back to the
door, looking out at the window, and did not
hear my approach. I tapped her chair, and as
she turned and looked up, I snatched as sweet
a kiss as ever was stolen, and vanished in a
twinkling. The next moment I was on horseback, galloping homeward, my very ears tingling at what I had done.
On my return home I sold my horse and
turned every thing into cash, and found, with
the remains of the paternal purse, that I had
nearly four hundred dollars,-a little capital
which I resolved to manage with the strictest
economy.
It was hard parting with old Miller, who
had been like a father to mee; it cost me, too,
something of a struggle to give up the free,
independent wild-wood life I had hitherto led;
but I had marked out my course, and have
never been one to flinch or turn back.
I footed it sturdily to Bardstown, took possession of the quarters for which I had bargained, shut myself up, and set to work with




196        Cales trom 1[rving
might and main to study. But what a task I
had before me! I had every thing to learn;
not merely law, but all the elementary branches
of knowledge.  I read and read for sixteen
hours out of the four-and-twenty, but the more
I read the more I became aware of my own
ignorance, and shed bitter tears over my deficiency. It seemed as if the wilderness of
knowledge expanded and grew more perplexed
as I advanced. Every height gained only revealed a wider region to be traversed, and nearly filled me with despair. I grew moody, silent,
and unsocial, but studied on doggedly and incessantly. The only person with whom I held
any conversation was the worthy man in whose
house I was quartered. He was honest and wellmeaning, but perfectly ignorant, and I believe
would have liked me much better if I had not
been so much addicted to reading. He considered all books filled with lies and impositions,
and seldom could look into one without finding
something to rouse his spleen. Nothing put
him into a greater passion than the assertion
that the world turned on its own axis every
twenty-four hours. He swore it was an outrage
upon common sense. "Why, if it did," said
he, "there would not be a drop of water in
the well by morning, and all the milk and
cream in the dairy would be turned topsy-turvy!




IRalpb VRtngwoob


197


And then to talk of the earth going round
the sun! How do they know it? I 've seen
the sun rise every morning and set every evening for more than thirty years. They must
not talk to me about the earth going round
the sun! "
At another time he was in a perfect fret at
being told the distance between the sun and
moon. " How can any one tell the distance? "
cried he. " Who survey ed it? who carried the
chain?  By Jupiter! they only talk this way
before me to annoy me. But then there 's
some people of sense who give in to this cursed
humbug! There 's Judge Broadnax, now, one
of the best lawyers we have; is n't it surprising
he should believe in such stuff? Why, sir, the
other day I heard him talk of the distance from
a star he called MIars to the sun! He must
have got it out of one or other of those confounded books he 's so fond of reading, a book
some impudent fellow has written, who knew
nobody could swear the distance was more or
less."
For my own part, feeling my own deficiency
in scientific lore, I never ventured to unsettle
his conviction that the sun made his daily circuit round the earth: and for aught I said to
the contrary, he lived and died in that belief.
I had been about a year at Bardstown, liv



198          al[ecs frotm lrtittn
ing thus studiously and reclusely, when, as I
was one day walking the street, I met two
young girls, in one of whom I immediately recalled the little beauty whom I had kissed so
impudently. She blushed up to the eyes, and
so did I; but we both passed on without further
sign of recognition.  This second glimpse of
her, however, caused an odd fluttering about
my heart.  I could not get her out of my
thoughts for days. She quite interfered with
my studies. I tried to think of her as a mere
child, but it would not do; she had improved
in beauty, and was tending toward womanhood,
and then I myself was but little better than a
stripling. However, I did not attempt to seek
after her, or even to find out who she was, but
returned doggedly to my books. By degrees
she faded from my thoughts, or if she did cross
them occasionally, it was only to increase my
despondency, for I feared that with all my exertions I should never be able to fit myself for
the bar, or enable myself to support a wife.
One cold, stormy evening I was seated, in
dumpish mood, in the bar-room of the inn,
looking into the fire and turning over uncomfortable thoughts, when I was accosted by some
one who had entered the room without my per.
ceiving it. I looked up, and saw before me a
tall and, as I thought, pompous-looking man,




1Ralpb rRitln oo,)


I99


arrayed in smallclothes and knee-buckles, with
powdered head, and shoes nicely blacked and
polished; a style of dress unparalleled in those
days in that rough country. I took a pique
against him from the very portliness of his
appearance and stateliness of his manner, and
bristled up as he accosted me. He demanded
if my name was not Ringwood.
I was startled, for I supposed myself perfectly
incog. but I answered in the affirmative.
"Your family, I believe, lives in Richmond."
My gorge began to rise.  "Yes, sir," replied I, sulkily, "my family does live in Richmond."
"And what, may I ask, has brought you into
this part of the country? "
" Zounds, sir! " cried I, starting on my feet,
"what business is it of yours?  How dare you
to question me in this manner? "
The entrance of some persons prevented a
reply; but I walked up and down the barroom, fuming with conscious independence and
insulted dignity, while the pompous-looking
personage, who had thus trespassed upon
my spleen, retired without proffering another
word.
The next day, while seated in my room, some
one tapped at the door, and, on being bid
to enter, the stranger in the powdered head,




200        'aales from Ifrvifn
smallclothes, and shining shoes and buckles,
walked in with ceremonious courtesy.
My boyish pride was again in arms, but he
subdued me. He was formal, but kind and
friendly. He knew my family and understood
my situation, and the dogged struggle I was
making. A little conversation, when my jealous pride was once put to rest, drew every thing
from me. He was a lawyer of experience and
of extensive practice, and offered at once to
take me with him and direct my studies. The
offer was too advantageous and gratifying not
to be immediately accepted. From that time I
began to look up. I was put into a proper
track, and was enabled to study to a proper
purpose. I made acquaintance, too, with some
of the young men of the place who were in the
same pursuit, and was encouraged at finding
that I could " hold my own " in argument with
them. We instituted a debating-club, in which
I soon became prominent and popular. Men
of talents, engaged in other pursuits, joined it,
and this diversified our subjects and put me on
various tracks of inquiry. Ladies, too, attended
some of our discussions, and this gave them a
polite tone and had an influence on the manners of the debaters. My legal patron also may
have had a favorable effect in correcting any
roughness contracted in my hunter's life. He




IRalpb 1Rtngwoot          201
was calculated to bend me in an opposite direction, for he was of the old school; quoted
"Chesterfield" on all occasions, and talked of
Sir Charles Grandison, who was his beau idhal.
It was Sir Charles Grandison, however, Kentuckyized.
I had always been fond of female society.
My experience, however, had hitherto been
among the rough daughters of the backwoodsmen, and I felt an awe of young ladies in "store
clothes," delicately brought up. Two or three
of the married ladies of Bardstown, who had
heard me at the debating-club, determined that
I was a genius, and undertook to bring me out.
I believe I really improved under their hands,
became quiet where I had been shy or sulky,
and easy where I had been impudent.
I called to take tea one evening with one of
these ladies, when to my surprise, and somewhat to my confusion, I found with her the
identical blue-eyed little beauty whom I had so
audaciously kissed. I was formally introduced
to her, but neither of us betrayed any sign of
previous acquaintance, except by blushing to
the eyes. While tea was getting ready, the
lady of the house went out of the room to give
some directions, and left us alone.
Heavens and earth, what a situation! I
would have given all the pittance I was worth,




202          aleis from i[rvtti
to have been in the deepest dell of the forest.
I felt the necessity of saying something in
excuse of my former rudeness, but I could not
conjure up an idea, not utter a word. Every
moment matters were growing worse. I felt at
one time tempted to do as I had done when I
robbed her of the kiss,-bolt from the room,
and take to flight; but I was chained to the
spot, for I really longed to gain her good-will.
At length I plucked up courage, on seeing
that she was equally confused with myself, and
walking desperately up to her, I exclaimed:
"I have been trying to muster up something
to say to you, but I cannot. I feel that I am in
a horrible scrape. Do have pity on me, and
help me out of it!"
A smile dimpled about her mouth, and
played among the blushes of her cheek. She
looked up with a shy but arch glance of the
eye, that expressed a volume of comic recollection; we both broke into a laugh, and from
that moment all went on well.
A few evenings afterward I met her at a
dance, and prosecuted the acquaintance. I soon
became deeply attached to her, paid my court
regularly, and before I was nineteen years of
age had engaged myself to marry her. I spoke
to her mother, a widow lady, to ask her consent. She seemed to demur; upon which, with




IRalpb Tingwoo)


203


my customary haste, I told her there would be
no use in opposing the match, for if her daughter chose to have me, I would take her, in defiance of her family and the whole world.
She laughed, and told me I need not give
myself any uneasiness; there would be no unreasonable opposition. She knew my family,
and all about me. The only obstacle was, that
I had no means of supporting a wife, and she
had nothing to give with her daughter.
No matter; at that moment every thing
was bright before me. I was in one of my sanguine moods. I feared nothing, doubted nothing. So it was agreed that I should prosecute
my studies, obtain a license, and as soon as I
should be fairly launched in business we would
be married.
I now prosecuted my studies with redoubled
ardor, and was up to my ears in law, when I received a letter from my father, who had heard
of me and my whereabouts. He applauded the
course I had taken, but advised me to lay a
foundation of general knowledge, and offered
to defray my expenses if I would go to college.
I felt the want of a general education, and was
staggered with this offer. It militated somewhat
against the self-dependent course I had so
proudly, or rather conceitedly, marked out for
myself, but it would enable me to enter more




204        gales from Irving
advantageously upon my legal career. I talked
over the matter with the lovely girl to whom I
was engaged. She sided in opinion with my
father, and talked so disinterestedly, yet tenderly, that if possible, I loved her more than
ever. I reluctantly, therefore, agreed to go to
college for a couple of years, though it must
necessarily postpone our union.
Scarcely had I formed this resolution, when
her mother was taken ill, and died, leaving her
without a protector. This again altered all my
plans. I felt as if I could protect her. I gave
up all idea of collegiate studies; persuaded myself that by dint of industry and application I
might overcome the deficiencies of education,
and resolved to take out a license as soon as
possible.
That very autumn I was admitted to the
bar, and within a month afterward was married.
We were a young couple,-she not much above
sixteen, I not quite twenty,-and both almost
without a dollar in the world. The establishment which we set up was suited to our circumstances: a log-house, with two small rooms; a
bed, a table, a half-dozen chairs, and half-dozen
knives and forks, a half-dozen spoons; every
thing by half-dozens; a little Delf ware; every
thing in a small way: we were so poor, but
then so happy!




1Salpb 1Rinowoob         205
We had not been married many days when
court was held at a county town, about twentyfive miles distant. It was necessary for me to
go there, and put myself in the way of business; but how was I to go? I had expended all
my means on our establishment; and then it
was hard parting with my wife so soon after
marriage. However, go I must. Money must
be made, or we should soon have the wolf at
the door. I accordingly borrowed a horse, and
borrowed a little cash, and rode off from my
door, leaving my wife standing at it, and waving
her hand after me. Her last look, so sweet and
beaming, went to my heart. I felt as if I could
go through fire and water for her.
I arrived at the county town on a cool October evening. The inn was crowded, for the
court was to commence on the following day.
I knew no one, and wondered how I, a stranger
and a mere youngster, was to make my way in
such a crowd, and to get business. The public
room was thronged with the idlers of the country, who gathered together on such occasions.
There was some drinking going forward, with
much noise, and a little altercation. Just as I
entered the room, I saw a rough bully of a fellow, who was partly intoxicated, strike an old
man. He came swaggering by me, and elbowed
me as he passed. I immediately knocked him




206           Uale6 from    lirviun3


down, and kicked him into the street. I needed no better introduction. In a moment I had
a dozen rough shakes of the hand and invitations to drink, and found myself quite a personage in this rough assembly.
The next morning the court opened. I took
my seat among the lawyers, but felt as a mere
spectator, not having a suit in progress or
prospect, not having any idea where business
was to come from. In the course of the morning, a man was put at the bar charged with
passing counterfeit money, and was asked if he
was ready for trial. He answered in the negative. He had been confined in a place where
there were no lawyers, and had not had an opportunity of consulting any. He was told to
choose counsel from the lawyers present, and to
be ready for trial on the following day. He
looked round the court, and selected me. I
was thunderstruck. I could not tell why he
should make such a choice.  I, a beardless
youngster, unpractised at the bar, perfectly unknown.   I felt diffident, yet delighted, and
could have hugged the rascal.
Before leaving the court, he gave me one
hundred dollars in a bag, as a retaining fee. I
could scarcely believe my senses; it seemed
like a dream. The heaviness of the fee spoke
but lightly in favor of his innocence, but that




1RaIpb hRingwoob          207
was no affair of mine. I was to be advocate,
not judge, nor jury. I followed him to jail, and
learned from him all the particulars of his
case; thence I went to the clerk's office, and
took minutes of the indictment. I then examined the law on the subject, and prepared my
brief in my room. All this occupied me until
midnight, when I went to bed and tried to
sleep. It was all in vain. Never in my life was
I more wide awake. A host of thoughts and
fancies kept rushing through my mind; the
shower of gold that had so unexpectedly fallen
into my lap; the idea of my poor little wife at
home, that I was to astonish with my good fortune! But then the awful responsibility I had
undertaken!-to speak for the first time in a
strange court; the expectations the culprit had
evidently formed of my talents; all these, and
a crowd of similar notions, kept whirling
through my mind. I tossed about all night,
fearing the morning would find me exhausted
and incompetent; in a word, the day dawned
on me, a miserable fellow!
I got up feverish and nervous.  I walked
out before breakfast, striving to collect my
thoughts and tranquillize my feelings. It was
a bright morning; the air was pure and frosty.
I bathed my forehead and my hands in a beautiful running stream; but I could not allay the
Vol. II.-14




208       'Cales from trving
fever heat that raged within. I returned to
breakfast, but could not eat. A single cup of
coffee formed my repast. It was time to go to
court, and I went there with a throbbing heart.
I believe if it had not been for the thoughts of
my little wife, in her lonely log-house, I should
have given back to the man his hundred dollars, and relinquished the cause. I took my
seat, looking, I am convinced, more like a culprit than the rogue I was to defend.
When the time came for me to speak my
heart died within me. I rose embarrassed and
dismayed, and stammered in opening my cause.
I went on from bad to worse, and felt as if I was
going down hill. Just then the public prosecutor, a man of talents, but somewhat rough in
his practice, made a sarcastic remark on something I had said. It was like an electric spark,
and ran tingling through every vein in my
body. In an instant my diffidence was gone.
My whole spirit was in arms. I answered with
promptness and bitterness, for I felt the cruelty
of such an attack upon a novice in my situation.
The public prosecutor made a kind of apology;
this, from a man of his redoubted powers, was a
vast concession. I renewed my argument with
a fearless glow; carried the case through triumphantly, and the man was acquitted.
This was the making of me. Everybody




1Ralpb tRfngwooO


209


was curious to know who this new lawyer was
that had thus suddenly risen among them, and
bearded the attorney-general at the very outset.
The story of my deb6zt at the inn, on the preceding evening, when I had knocked down a
bully and kicked him out of doors, for striking
an old man, was circulated, with favorable exaggerations. Even my very beardless chin and
juvenile countenance were in my favor, for
people gave me far more credit than I really
deserved. The chance business which occurs in
our country courts came thronging upon me.
I was repeatedly employed in other causes; and
by Saturday night, when the court closed, and
I had paid my bill at the inn, I found myself
with a hundred and fifty dollars in silver, three
hundred dollars in notes, and a horse that I
afterward sold for two hundred more.
Never did miser gloat on his money with
more delight. I locked the door of my room,
piled the money in a heap upon the table,
walked round it, sat with my elbows on the
table and my chin upon my hands, and gazed
upon it. Was I thinking of the money? No!
I was thinking of my little wife at home. Another sleepless night ensued; but what a night
of golden fancies and splendid air-castles! As
soon as morning dawned I was up, mounted
the borrowed horse with which I had come to




210        'Cales from 1rvtin
court, and led the other, which I had received
as a fee. All the way I was delighting myself
with the thoughts of the surprise I had in
store for my little wife; for both of us had
expected nothing but that I should spend all
the money I had borrowed, and should return
in debt.
Our meeting was joyous, as you may suppose, but I played the part of the Indian hunter,
who, when he returns from the chase, never for
a time speaks of his success. She had prepared
a snug little rustic meal for me, and while it
was getting ready, I seated myself at an oldfashioned desk in one corner, and began to
count over my money and put it away. She
came to me before I had finished, and asked
who I had collected the money for.
"For myself to be sure," replied I, with affected coolness; "I made it at court."
She looked me for a moment in the face, incredulously. I tried to keep my countenance,
and to play Indian, but I could not do it. My
muscles began to twitch; my feelings all at
once gave way. I caught her in my arms;
laughed, cried, and danced about the room, like
a crazy man. From that time forward, we never
wanted for money.
I had not been long in successful practice,
when I was surprised one day by a visit from




lRalpb 1RingwooZ


2T I


my woodland patron, old Miller. The tidings
of my prosperity had reached him in the wilderness, and he had walked one hundred and
fifty miles on foot to see me. By that time I
had improved my domestic establishment, and
had all things comfortable about me. He looked
around him with a wondering eye, at what he
considered luxuries and superfluities; but supposed they were all right, in my altered circumstances. He said he did not know, upon the
whole, but that I acted for the best. It is true,
if game had continued plenty, it would have
been a folly for me to quit a hunter's life; but
hunting was pretty nigh done up in Kentucky.
The buffalo had gone to Missouri; the elk were
nearly gone also; deer, too, were growing
scarce; they might last out his time, as he was
growing old, but they were not worth setting
up life upon. He had once lived on the borders
of Virginia.  Game grew scarce there; he followed it up across Kentucky, and now it was
again giving him the slip; but he was too old
to follow it farther.
He remained with us three days. My wife
did every thing in her power to make him comfortable; but at the end of that time he said he
must be off again to the woods. He was tired
of the village, and of having so many people
about him. He accordingly returned to the




212         Cales trom Irvin
wilderness, and to hunting-life. But I fear he
did not make a good end of it; for I understand
that a few years before his death, he married
Sukey Thomas, who lived at the White Oak
Run.




LEGEND OF THE ENGULPHED CONVENT.
AT the dark and melancholy period when
Don Roderick the Goth and his chivalry
were overthrown on the banks of the Guadalete,
and all Spain was overrun by the Moors, great
was the devastation of churches and convents
throughout that pious kingdom. The miraculous fate of one of those holy piles is thus
recorded in an authentic legend of those days.
On the summit of a hill, not very distant
from the capital city of Toledo, stood an ancient
convent and chapel, dedicated to the invocation
of Saint Benedict, and inhabited by a sisterhood of Benedictine nuns. This holy asylum
was confined to females of noble lineage. The
younger sisters of the highest families were
here given in religious marriage to their
Saviour, in order that the portions of their
elder sisters might be increased, and they enabled to make suitable matches on earth; or




2I4        catele trom Irving
that the family wealth might go undivided to
elder brothers, and the dignity of their ancient
houses be protected from decay. The convent
was renowned, therefore, for enshrining within
its walls a sisterhood of the purest blood, the
most immaculate virtue, and most resplendent
beauty, of all Gothic Spain.
When the Moors overran the kingdom, there
was nothing that more excited their hostility
than these virgin asylums. The very sight of a
convent spire was sufficient to set their Moslem
blood in a foment, and they sacked it with as
fierce a zeal as though the sacking of a nunnery
were a sure passport to Elysium.
Tidings of such outrages, coninitted in various
parts of the kingdom, reached this noble sanctuary, and filled it with dismay. The danger
came nearer and nearer; the infidel hosts were
spreading all over the country; Toledo itself
was captured; there was no flying from the
convent, and no security within its walls.
In the midst of this agitation, the alarm was
given one day, that a great band of Saracens
were spurring across the plain. In an instant
the whole convent was a scene of confusion.
Some of the nuns wrung their fair hands at the
windows; others waved their veils, and uttered
shrieks, from the tops of the towers, vainly
hoping to draw relief from a country overrun




Ube XnoulpbeZ Convent


2 I D


by the foe. The sight of these innocent doves
thus fluttering about their dove-cote, but increased the zealot fury of the whiskered Moors.
They thundered at the portal, and at every blow
the ponderous gates trembled on their hinges.
The nuns now crowded round the abbess.
They had been accustomed to look up to her as
all-powerful, and they now implored her protection. The mother abbess looked with a
rueful eye upon the treasures of beauty and
vestal virtue exposed to such imminent peril.
Alas! how was she to protect them from the
spoiler! She had, it is true, experienced many
signal interpositions of Providence in her individual favor. Her early days had been passed
amid the temptations of a court, where her
virtue had been purified by repeated trials, from
none of which had she escaped but by miracle.
But were miracles never to cease? Could she
hope that the marvellous protection shown to
herself would be extended to a whole sisterhood?  There was no other resource.  The
Moors were at the threshold; a few moments
more and the convent would be at their mercy.
Summoning her nuns to follow her, she hurried
into the chapel, and throwing herself on her
knees before the image of the Blessed Mary,
"Oh, holy Lady! " exclaimed she, " oh, most
pure and immaculate of virgins! thou seest our




2I6        gales from llrvtfn
extremity.  The ravager is at the gate, and
there is none on earth to help us! Look down
with pity, and grant that the earth may gape
and swallow us, rather than that our cloister
vows should suffer violation! "
The Moors redoubled their assault upon the
portal; the gates gave way with a tremendous
crash; a savage yell of exultation arose; when
of a sudden the earth yawned, down sank the
convent, with its cloisters, its dormitories, and
all its nuns. The chapel tower was the last
that sank, the bell ringing forth a peal of triumph in the very teeth of the infidels.
Forty years had passed and gone since the
period of this miracle.  The subjugation of
Spain was complete. The Moors lorded it over
city and country; and such of the Christian
population as remained, and were permitted to
exercise their religion, did it in humble resignation to the Moslem sway.
At this time a Christian cavalier of Cordova,
hearing that a patriotic band of his countrymen
had raised the standard of the cross in the
mountains of the Asturias, resolved to join
them, and unite in breaking the yoke of bondage. Secretly arming himself and caparisoning
his steed, he set forth from Cordova, and pursued his course by unfrequented mule-paths,




Cbe ~ngulpbeb Convent


217


and along the dry channels made by winter
torrents. His spirit burned with indignation
whenever, on commanding a view over a long
sweeping plain, he beheld the mosque swelling
in the distance, and the Arab horsemen careering about, as if the rightful lords of the soil.
Many a deep-drawn sigh and heavy groan, also,
did the good cavalier utter on passing the ruins
of churches and convents desolated by the conquerors.
It was on a sultry midsummer evening that
this wandering cavalier, in skirting a hill thickly covered with forest, heard the faint tones of
a vesper-bell sounding melodiously in the air,
and seeming to come from the summit of the
hill. The cavalier crossed himself with wonder
at this unwonted and Christian sound. He
supposed it to proceed from one of those humble chapels and hermitages permitted to exist
through the indulgence of the Moslem conquerors. Turning his steed up a narrow path
of the forest, he sought this sanctuary, in hopes
of finding a hospitable shelter for the night.
As he advanced, the trees threw a deep gloom
around him, and the bat flitted across his path.
The bell ceased to toll, and all was silence.
Presently a choir of female voices came stealing sweetly through the forest, chanting the
evening service, to the solemn accompaniment




2I8         Cateo front ~rring
of an organ. The heart of the good cavalier
melted at the sound, for it recalled the happier
days of his country. Urging forward his weary
steed, he at length arrived at a broad grassy
area, on the summit of the hill, surrounded by
the forest. Here the melodious voices rose in
full chorus, like the swelling of the breeze; but
whence they came he could not tell. Sometimes they were before, sometimes behind him;
sometimes in the air, sometimes as if from
within the bosom of the earth. At length they
died away, and a holy stillness settled on the
place.
The cavalier gazed around with bewildered
eye. There was neither chapel nor convent,
nor humble hermitage to be seen; nothing but
a moss-grown stone pinnacle, rising out of the
centre of the area, surmounted by a cross.
The green sward appeared to have been sacred
from the tread of man or beast, and the surrounding trees bent toward the cross, as if in
adoration.
The cavalier felt a sensation of holy awe. He
alighted, and tethered his steed on the skirts of
the forest, where he might crop the tender
herbage; then approaching the cross, he knelt
and poured forth his evening prayers before
this relic of the Christian days of Spain. His
orisons being concluded, he laid himself down




Cbe EngtilpbO Conveint


2r19


at the foot of the pinnacle, and reclining his
head against one of its stones, fell into a deep
sleep.
About midnight he was awakened by the tolling of a bell, and found himself lying before
the gate of an ancient convent. A train of
nuns passed by, each bearing a taper. He rose
and followed them into the chapel; in the centre was a bier, on which lay the corpse of an
aged nun. The organ performed a solemn requiem, the nuns joining in chorus. When the
funeral service was finished, a melodious voice
chanted " Rcquiescat in p1ace! "-" May she
rest in peace " The lights immediately vanished; the whole passed away as a dream; and
the cavalier found himself at the foot of the
cross, and beheld, by the faint rays of the rising
moon, his steed quietly grazing near him.
When the day dawned, he descended the hill,
and following the course of a small brook, came
to a cave, at the entrance of which was seated
an ancient man, in hermit's garb, with rosary
and cross, and a beard that descended to his
girdle. He was one of those holy anchorites
permitted by the Moors to live unmolested
in the dens and caves, and humble hermitages, and even to practise the rites of their
religion. The cavalier, dismounting, knelt and
craved a benediction. He then related all that




220       Ctales from Ifrving
had befallen him in the night, and besought the
hermit to explain the mystery.
"What thou hast heard and seen, my son,"
replied the other, " is but a type and shadow of
the woes of Spain."
He then related the foregoing story of the
miraculous deliverance of the convent.
"Forty years, added the holy man, "have
elapsed since this event, yet the bells of that
sacred edifice are still heard, from time to time,
sounding from underground, together with the
pealing of the organ and the chanting of the
choir. The Moors avoid this neighborhood, as
haunted ground, and the whole place, as thou
mayest perceive, has become covered with a
thick and lonely forest."
The cavalier listened with wonder to the
story. For three days and nights did he keep
vigils with the holy man beside the cross, but
nothing more was to be seen of nun or convent.
It is supposed that, forty years having elapsed,
the natural lives of all the nuns were finished,
and the cavalier had beheld the obsequies of the
last.  Certain it is that, from that time, bell
and organ and choral chant have never more
been heard.
The mouldering pinnacle, surmounted by
the cross, remains an object of pious pilgrimage. Some say that it anciently stood in front




Ube EngulpbeO Convent


221


of the convent, but others that it was the spire
which remained above ground, when the main
body of the building sank, like the topmast of
some tall ship that has foundered. These pious
believers maintain that the convent is miraculously preserved entire in the centre of the
mountain, where, if proper excavations were
made, it would be found, with all its treasures,
and monuments, and shrines, and relics, and
the tombs of its virgin nuns.
Should any one doubt the truth of this marvellous interposition of the Virgin, to protect
the vestal purity of her votaries, let him read
the excellent work entitled " Espana Triumphante," written by Fray Antonio de Sancta
Maria, a barefoot friar of the Carmelite order,
and he will doubt no longer.




THE PHANTOM ISLAND.


Break, Phantsie, from thy cave of cloud,
And wave thy purple wings,
Now all thy figures are allowed,
And various shapes of things.
Create of airy forms a stream;
It must have blood and naught of phlegm;
And though it be a walking dream,
Yet let it like an odor rise
To all the senses here,
And fall like sleep upon their eyes,
Or music on their ear.-BEN JONSON.
"THERE       are more things in heaven and
1   earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy," and among these may be placed that
marvel and mystery of the seas, the Island of
St. Brandan. Those who have read the history of the Canaries, the fortunate islands of
the ancients, may remember the wonders told
of this enigmatical island.   Occasionally it
would be visible from their shores, stretching
away in the clear bright west, to all appearance
substantial like themselves, and still more beautiful. Expeditions would launch forth from




Ube Obantom lolano


223


the Canaries to explore this land of promise.
For a time its sun-gilt peaks and long, shadowy
promontories would remain distinctly visible,
but in proportion as the voyagers approached,
peak and promontory would gradually fade
away until nothing would remain but blue sky
above and deep water below. Hence this mysterious isle was stigmatized by ancient cosmographers with the name of Aprositus or the
Inaccessible.  The failure of numerous expeditions sent in quest of it, both in ancient and
modern days, has at length caused its very existence to be called in question, and it has been
rashly pronounced a mere optical illusion, like
the fa/a morgana of the Straits of Messina, or
has been classed with those unsubstantial regions known to mariners as Cape Fly Away and
the coast of Cloud Land.
Let us not permit, however, the doubts of
worldly-wise sceptics to rob us of all the glorious realms owned by happy credulity in days
of yore. Be assured, 0 reader of -easy faith!
thou for whom it is my delight to labor-be assured that such an island actually exists, and
has from time to time been revealed to the gaze
and trodden by the feet of favored mortals.
Historians and philosophers may have their
doubts, but its existence has been fully attested
by that inspired race, the poets; who, being
v 0o. II.-Is




224        bCales from ~frvtng
gifted with a kind of second sight, are enabled
to discern those mysteries of nature hidden
from the eyes of ordinary men. To this gifted
race it has ever been a kind of wonder-land.
Here once bloomed, and perhaps still blooms,
the famous garden of the Hesperides, with its
golden fruit. Here, too, the sorceress Armida
had her enchanted garden, in which she held
the Christian paladin, Rinaldo, in delicious but
inglorious thraldom, as set forth in the immortal
lay of Tasso. It was in this island that Sycorax
the witch held sway, when the good Prospero
and his infant daughter Miranda were wafted to
its shores. Who does not know the tale as told
in the magic page of Shakspeare? The isle was
then
" —  full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not."
The island, in fact, at different times, has been
under the sway of different powers, genii of
earth, and air, and ocean, who have made it
their shadowy abode.   Hither have retired
many classic but broken-down deities, shorn
of almost all their attributes, but who once
ruled the poetic world. Here Neptune and
Amphitrite hold a diminished court, sovereigns in exile. Their ocean-chariot, almost a
wreck, lies bottom upward in some sea-beaten




Cbe jPbantom lotano


225


cavern; their pursy Tritons and haggard Nereids bask listlessly like seals about the rocks.
Sometimes those deities assume, it is said, a
shadow of their ancient pomp, and glide in
state about a summer sea; and then, as some
tall Indiaman lies becalmed with idly flapping
sail, her drowsy crew may hear the mellow note
of the Triton's shell swelling upon the ear as
the invisible pageant sweeps by.
On the shores of this wondrous isle the kraken heaves its unwieldy bulk and wallows
many a rood. Here the sea-serpent, that mighty
but much contested reptile, lies coiled up during
the intervals of its revelations to the eyes of true
believers.  Here even the Flying Dutchman
finds a port, and casts his anchor, and furls his
shadowy sail, and takes a brief repose from his
eternal cruisings.
In the deep bays and harbors of the island
lies many a spell-bound ship, long since given
up as lost by the ruined merchant. Here, too,
its crew, long, long bewailed in vain, lie sleeping from age to age in mossy grottos, or wander about in pleasing oblivion of all things.
Here in caverns are garnered up the priceless
treasures lost in the ocean. Here sparkles in
vain the diamond and flames the carbuncle.
Here are piled up rich bales of Oriental silks,
boxes of pearls, and piles of golden ingots.




226        tales from lrving
Such are some of the marvels related of this
island, which may serve to throw light upon
the following legend, of unquestionable truth,
which I recommend to the implicit belief of
the reader.
THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES.
A LEGEND OF ST. BRANDAN.
In the early part of the fifteenth century,
when Prince Henry of Portugal, of worthy
memory, was pushing the career of discovery
along the western coast of Africa, and the world
was resounding with reports of golden regions
on the mainland, and new-found islands in the
ocean, there arrived at Lisbon an old bewildered
pilot of the seas, who had been driven by tempests, he knew not whither, and raved about an
island far in the deep, upon which he had
landed, and which he had found peopled with
Christians, and adorned with noble cities.
The inhabitants, he said, having never before
been visited by a ship, gathered round, and regarded him with surprise. They told him they
were descendants of a band of Christians, who
fled from Spain when that country was conquered by the Moslems. They were curious
about the state of their fatherland, and grieved
to hear that the Moslems still held possession




BIbalantabo of tbe Seven Cities  227
of the kingdom of Granada. They would have
taken the old navigator to church, to convince
him of their orthodoxy; but, either through
lack of devotion, or lack of faith in their words,
he declined their invitation, and preferred to
return on board of his ship. He was properly
punished. A furious storm arose, drove him
from his anchorage, hurried him out to sea, and
he saw no more of the unknown island.
This strange story caused great marvel in
Lisbon and elsewhere. Those versed in history
remembered to have read, in an ancient chronicle, that, at the time of the conquest of Spain,
in the eighth century, when the blessed cross
was cast down, and the crescent erected in its
place, and when Christian churches were turned
into Moslem mosques, seven bishops, at the
head of seven bands of pious exiles, had fled
from the peninsula, and embarked in quest of
some ocean island, or distant land, where they
might found seven Christian cities, and enjoy
their faith unmolested.
The fate of these saints-errant had hitherto
remained a mystery, and their story had faded
from memory; the report of the old tempesttossed pilot, however, revived the long-forgotten theme; and it was determined by the piouc
and enthusiastic, that the island thus accidentally discovered was the identical place of




228         taIle~ from lrving
refuge whither the wandering bishops had been
guided by a protecting Providence, and where
they had folded their flocks.
This most excitable of worlds has always
some darling object of chimerical enterprise.
The " Island of the Seven Cities " now awakened
as much interest and longing among zealous
Christians as has the renowned city of Timbuctoo among adventurous travellers, or the Northeast passage among hardy navigators; and it
was a frequent prayer of the devout, that these
scattered and lost portions of the Christian
family might be discovered and reunited to the
great body of Christendom.
No one, however, entered into the matter with
half the zeal of Don Fernando de Ulmo, a young
cavalier of high standing in the Portuguese
court, and of most sanguine and romantic temperament. He had recently come to his estate,
and had run the round of all kinds of pleasures
and excitements when this new theme of popular talk and wonder presented itself. The Island of the Seven Cities became now the constant subject of his thoughts by day, and his
dreams by night; it even rivalled his passion
for a beautiful girl, one of the greatest belles of
Lisbon, to whom he was betrothed. At length
his imagination became so inflamed on the subject, that he determined to fit out an expedi



MlBalantabo of tbe Seven Cities  229
tion, at his own expense, and set sail in quest
of this sainted island. It could not be a cruise
of any great extent; for, according to the calculations of the tempest-tossed pilot, it must be
somewhere in the latitude of the Canaries;
which at that time, when the New World was as
yet undiscovered, formed the frontier of ocean
enterprise. Don Fernando applied to the crown
for countenance and protection. As he was a
favorite at court, the usual patronage was readily extended to him; that is to say, he received a
commission from the king, Don Ioam II., constituting him Adalantado, or military governor,
of any country he might discover, with the
single proviso, that he should bear all the expenses of the discovery, and pay a tenth of the
profits to the crown.
Don Fernando now set to work in the true
spirit of a projector. He sold acre after acre
of solid land, and invested the proceeds in ships,
guns, ammunition, and sea-stores. Even his
old family mansion in Lisbon was mortgaged
without scruple, for he looked forward to a
palace in one of the Seven Cities, of which he
was to be Adalantado. This was the age of
nautical romance, when the thoughts of all
speculative dreamers were turned to the ocean.
The scheme of Don Fernando, therefore, drew
adventurers of every kind. The merchant




230        'Cale  from 1titing
promised himself new marts of opulent traffic;
the soldier hoped to sack and plunder some one
or other of those Seven Cities; even the fat
monk shook off the sleep and sloth of the cloister, to join in a crusade which promised such
increase to the possessions of the Church.
One person alone regarded the whole project
with sovereign contempt and growling hostility.
This was Don Ramiro Alvarez, the father of the
beautiful Serafina, to whom Don Fernando was
betrothed. He was one of those perverse, nlatter-of-fact old men, who are prone to oppose
every thing speculative and romantic. He had
no faith in the Island of the Seven Cities; regarded the projected cruise as a crack-brained
freak; looked with angry eye and internal
heart-burning on the conduct of his intended
son-in-law, chaffering away solid lands for lands
in the moon; and scoffingly dubbed him Adalantado of Cloud Land. In fact, he had never
really relished the intended match, to which
his consent had been slowly extorted by the
tears and entreaties of his daughter. It is true
he could have no reasonable objections to the
youth, for Don Fernando was the very flower
of Portuguese chivalry. No one could excel
him at the tilting-match, or the riding at the
ring; none was more bold and dexterous in the
bull-fight; none composed more gallant madri



&balantabo of tbe Sevenl Cities 231
gals in praise of his lady's charms, or sang them
with sweeter tones to the accompaniment of her
guitar; nor could any one handle the castanets
and dance the bolero with more captivating
grace. All these admirable qualities and endowments, however, though they had been sufficient to win the heart of Serafina, were nothing in the eyes of her unreasonable father. 0
Cupid, god of love! why will fathers always
be so unreasonable?
The engagement to Serafina had threatened at
first to throw an obstacle in the way of the expedition of Don Fernando, and for a time perplexed him in the extreme. He was passionately attached to the young lady; but he was
also passionately bent on this romantic enterprise. How should he reconcile the two passionate inclinations? A simple and obvious
arrangement at length presented itself,-marry
Serafina, enjoy a portion of the honeymoon at
once, and defer the rest until his return from
the discovery of the Seven Cities!
He hastened to make known this most excellent arrangement to Don Ramiro, when the
long-smothered wrath of the old cavalier burst
forth. He reproached him with being the dupe
of wandering vagabonds and wild schemers,
and with squandering all his real possessions
in pursuit of empty bubbles. Don Fernando




232        'ates from Itrtvii
was too sanguine a projector, and too young a
man, to listen tamely to such language. He
acted with what is technically called " becoming spirit." A high quarrel ensued; Don
Ramiro pronounced him a madman, and forbade all further intercourse with his daughter
until he should give proof of returning sanity,
by abandoning this madcap enterprise; while
Don Fernando flung out of the house, more
bent than ever on the expedition, from the idea
of triumphing over the incredulity of the graybeard, when he should return successful. Don
Ramiro's heart misgave him. Who knows,
thought he, but this crack-brained visionary
may persuade my daughter to elope with him,
and share his throne in this unknown paradise
of fools? If I could only keep her safe until his
ships are fairly out at sea!
He repaired to her apartment, represented to
her the sanguine, unsteady character of her
lover and the chimerical value of his schemes,
and urged the propriety of suspending all intercourse with him until he should recover from
his present hallucination. She bowed her head
as if in filial acquiescence, whereupon he folded
her to his bosom with parental fondness and
kissed away a tear that was stealing over her
cheek, but as he leftthe chamber quietly turned
the key in the lock: for though he was a fond




tbalantabo of tbe Seven Cittes   233
father and had a high opinion of the submissive
temper of his child, he had a still higher opinion of the conservative virtues of lock and key,
and determined to trust to them until the caravels should sail. Whether the damsel had been
in any wise shaken in her faith as to the schemes
of her lover by her father's eloquence, tradition
does not say; but certain it is, that the moment
she heard the key turn in the lock, she became
a firm believer in the Island of the Seven Cities.
The door was locked; but her will was unconfined. A window of the chamber opened into
one of those stone balconies, secured by iron
bars, which project like huge cages from Portuguese and Spanish houses. Within this balcony
the beautiful Serafina had her birds and flowers,
and here she was accustomed to sit on moonlight nights as in a bower, and touch her guitar
and sing like a wakeful nightingale. From
this balcony an intercourse was now maintained
between the lovers, against which the lock and
key of Don Ramiro were of no avail. All day
would Fernando be occupied hurrying the equipments of his ships, but evening found him in
sweet discourse beneath his lady's window.
At length the preparations were completed.
Two gallant caravels lay at anchor in the Tagus
ready to sail at sunrise. Late at night, by the
pale light of a waning moon, the lover had his




234        'ales from Irvitn
last interview. The beautiful Serafina was sad
at heart and full of dark, forebodings; her lover
full of hope and confidence. "A few short
months," said he, " and I shall return in triumph. Thy father will then blush at his incredulity, and hasten to welcome to his house the
Adalantado of the Seven Cities."
The gentle lady shook her head. It was not
on this point she felt distrust. She was a thorough believer in the Island of the Seven Cities,
and so sure of the success of the enterprise that
she might have been tempted to join it had not
the balcony been high and the grating strong.
Other considerations induced that dubious shaking of the head. She had heard of the inconstancy of the seas, and the inconstancy of those
who roam them. Might not Fernando meet
with other loves in foreign ports? Might not
some peerless beauty in one or other of those
Seven Cities efface the image of Serafina from
his mind? Now let the truth be spoken, the
beautiful Serafina had reason for her disquiet.
If Don Fernando had any fault in the world, it
was that of being rather inflammable and apt to
take fire from every sparkling eye. He had
been somewhat of a rover among the sex on
shore, what might he be on sea?
She ventured to express her doubt, but he
spurned at the very idea. " What! he false to




WlOalantabo of tbe Seven Cittie  235
Serafina! He bow at the shrine of another
beauty? Never! never!" Repeatedly did he
bend his knee and smite his breast, and call
upon the silver moon to witness his sincerity
and truth.
He retorted the doubt: " Might not Serafina
herself forget her plighted faith? Might not
some wealthier rival present himself while he
was tossing on the sea; and, backed by her
father's wishes, win the treasure of her hand?"
The beautiful Serafina raised her white arms
between the iron bars of the balcony, and, like
her lover, invoked the moon to testify her vows.
Alas! how little did Fernando know her heart.
The more her father should oppose, the more
would she be fixed in faith. Though years
should intervene, Fernando on his return would
find her true. Even should the salt sea swallow
him up (and her eyes shed salt tears at the very
thought), never would she be the wife of another! Never, never, NEVER! She drew from
her finger a ring gemmed with a ruby heart, and
dropped it from the balcony, a parting pledge
of constancy.
Thus the lovers parted with many a tender
word and plighted vow. But will they keep
those vows? Perish the doubt! Have they not
called the constant moon to witness?
With the morning dawn the caravels dropped




236         Zales from  Trving
down the Tagus, and put to sea. They steered
for the Canaries, in those days the regions of
nautical discovery and romance, and the outposts of the known world, for as yet Columbus
had not steered his daring barks across the
ocean. Scarce had they reached those latitudes
when they were separated by a violent tempest.
For many days was the caravel of Don Fernando
driven about at the mercy of the elements; all
seamanship was baffled, destruction seemed inevitable, and the crew were in despair. All at
once the storm subsided; the ocean sank into a
calm; the clouds which had veiled the face of
heaven were suddenly withdrawn, and the tempest-tossed mariners beheld a fair and mountainous island emerging as if by enchantment
from the murky gloom. They rubbed their eyes
and gazed for a time almost incredulously, yet
there lay the island spread out in lovely landscapes, with the late stormy sea laving its shores
with peaceful billows.
The pilot of the caravel consulted his maps
and charts; no island like the one before him
was laid down as existing in those parts; it is
true he had lost his reckoning in the late storm,
but, according to his calculations, he could not
be far from the Canaries; and this was not one
of that group of islands. The caravel now lay
perfectly becalmed off the mouth of a river, on




Wl.alantabo of tbe ~beven Cittes 237
the banks of which, about a league from the
sea, was described a noble city, with lofty walls
and towers, and a protecting castle.
After a time, a stately barge with sixteen oars
was seen emerging from the river, and approaching the caravel. It was quaintly carved and
gilt; the oarsmen were clad in antique garb,
their oars painted of a bright crimson, and they
came slowly and solemnly, keeping time as the)
rowed to the cadence of an old Spanish ditty.
Under a silken canopy in the stern, sat a cavalier
richly clad, and over his head was a banner
bearing the sacred emblem of the cross.
When the barge reached the caravel, the cavalier stepped on board. He was tall and gaunt;
with a long Spanish visage, moustaches that
curled up to his eyes, and a forked beard. He
wore gauntlets reaching to his elbows, a Toledo
blade strutting out behind, with a basket hilt, in
which he carried his handkerchief. His air was
lofty and precise, and bespoke indisputably the
hidalgo. Thrusting out a long spindle leg, he
took off a huge sombrero, and swayed it until
the feather swept the ground, accosted Don
Fernando in the old Castilian language, and
with the old Castilian courtesy, welcoming him
to the Island of the Seven Cities.
Don Fernando was overwhelmed with astonishment. Could this be true? Had he really




238        tales front 1kvino
been tempest-driven to the very land of which
he was in quest?
It was even so. That very day the inhabitants were holding high festival in commemoration of the escape of their ancestors from the
Moors. The arrival of the caravel at such a
juncture was considered a good omen, the accomplishment of an ancient prophecy through
which the island was to be restored to the great
community of Christendom. The cavalier before him was grand chamberlain, sent by the
alcayde to invite him to the festivities of the
capital.
Don Fernando could scarce believe that this
was not a dream. He made known his name
and the object of his voyage. The grand chamberlain declared that all was in perfect accordance with the ancient prophecy, and that the
moment his credentials were presented, he
would be acknowledged as the Adalantado of
the Seven Cities. In the meantime the day was
waning, the barge was ready to convey him to the
land, and would as assuredly bring him back.
Don Fernando's pilot, a veteran of the seas,
drew him aside and expostulated against his
venturing, on the mere word of a stranger, to
land in a strange barge on an unknown shore.
" Who knows, Sefior, what land this is, or what
people inhabit it? "




ibalantabo of the Seven Cities   239
Don Femrnando was not to be dissuaded. Had
he not believed in this island when all the world
doubted? Had he not sought it in defiance of
storm and tempest, and was he now to shrink
from its shores when it lay before him in calm
weather? In a word, was not faith the very
cornerstone of his enterprise?
Having arrayed himself, therefore, in gala
dress befitting the occasion, he took his seat
in the barge. The grand chamberlain seated
himself opposite. The rowers plied their oars,
and renewed the mournful old ditty, and the
gorgeous but unwieldy barge moved slowly
through the water.
The night closed in before they entered the
river, and swept along past rock and promontory, each guarded by its tower. At every post
they were challenged by the sentinel.
" Who goes there? "
" The Adalantado of the Seven Cities."
"Welcome, Seilor Adalantado. Pass on."
Entering the harbor, they rowed close by an
armed galley of ancient form. Soldiers with
crossbows patrolled the deck.
" Who goes there?
" The Adalantado of the Seven Cities."
" Welcome, Senfor Adalantado. Pass on."
They landed at a broad flight of stone steps,
leading up between two massive towers, and
Vol. II.-x6




240        Uales from  Irving
knocked at the water-gate. A sentinel, in ancient steel casque, looked from the barbican.
"Who is there?"
"The Adalantado of the Seven Cities."
"Welcome, Sefior Adalantado."
The gate swung open, grating upon rusty
hinges. They entered between two rows of
warriors in Gothic armor, with crossbows,
maces, battle-axes, and faces old-fashioned as
their armor. There were processions through
the streets, in commemoration of the landing of the seven Bishops and their followers, and bonfires, at which effigies of losel
Moors expiated their invasion of Christendom
by a kind of auto-da-fe. The groups round the
fires, uncouth in their attire, looked like the
fantastic figures that roam the streets in Carnival time. Even the dames, who gazed down
from Gothic balconies hung with antique tapestry, resembled effigies dressed up in Christmas mummeries. Every thing, in short, bore
the stamp of former ages, as if the world had
suddenly rolled back for several centuries. Nor
was this to be wondered at. Had not the Island
of the Seven Cities been cut off from the rest of
the world for several hundred years; and were
not these the modes and customs of Gothic
Spain before it was conquered by the Moors?
Arriving at the palace of the alcayde, the




Otalantabo of tbe Seven Cities  241
grand chamberlain knocked at the portal. The
porter looked through a wicket, and demanded
who was there.
" The Adalantado of the Seven Cities."
The portal was thrown wide open. The grand
chamberlain led the way up a vast, heavily
moulded, marble staircase, and into a hall of ceremony, where was the alcayde with several of the
principal dignitaries of the city, who had a marvellous resemblance, in form and feature, to the
quaint figures in old illuminated manuscripts.
The grand chamberlain stepped forward and
announced the name and title of the strangerguest, and the extraordinary nature of his mission. The announcement appeared to create
no extraordinary emotion or surprise, but to
be received as the anticipated fulfilment of a
prophecy.
The reception of Don Fernando, however, was
profoundly gracious, though in the same style
of stately courtesy which everywhere prevailed.
He would have produced his credentials, but
this was courteously declined. The evening
was devoted to high festivity; the following
day, when he should enter the port with his
caravel, would be devoted to business, when
the credentials would be received in due form,
and he inducted into office as Adalantado of the
Seven Cities.




242        'ates from  Irving
Don Fernando was now conducted through
one of those interminable suites of apartments,
the pride of Spanish palaces, all furnished in
a style of obsolete magnificence.  In a vast
saloon, blazing with tapers, was assembled all
the aristocracy and fashion of the city,-stately
dames and cavaliers, the very counterpart of
the figures in the tapestry which decorated the
walls.  Fernando gazed in silent marvel. It
was a reflex of the proud aristocracy of Spain
in the time of Roderick the Goth.
The festivities of the evening were all in the
style of solemn and antiquated ceremonial.
There was a dance, but it was as if the old tapestry were put in motion, and all the figures
moving in stately measure about the floor.
There was one exception, and one that told
powerfully upon the susceptible Adalantado.
The alcayde's daughter-such a ripe, melting
beauty! Her dress, it is true, like the dresses
of her neighbors, might have been worn before
the flood, but she had the black Andalusian
eye, a glance of which, through its long dark
lashes, is irresistible. Her voice, too, her manner, her undulating movements, all smacked
of Andalusia, and showed how female charms
may be transmitted from age to age, and clime
to clime, without ever going out of fashion.
Those who know the witchery of the sex, in




iboalantaOo of the Seven Cities  243
that most amorous part of amorous old Spain,
may judge of the fascination to which Don Fernando was exposed, as he joined in the dance
with one of its most captivating descendants.
He sat beside her at the banquet! such an
Old-World feast! such obsolete dainties! At
the head of the table the peacock, that bird of
state and ceremony, was served up in full
plumage on a golden dish. As Don Fernando
cast his eyes down the glittering board, what a
vista presented itself of odd heads and headdresses; of formal bearded dignitaries and
stately dames, with castellated locks and towering plumes! Is it to be wondered at that he
should turn with delight from these antiquated
figures to the alcayde's daughter, all smiles and
dimples, and melting looks and melting accents? Besides, for I wish to give him every
excuse in my power, he was in a particularly
excitable mood from the novelty of the scene
before him, from this realization of all his hopes
and fancies, and from frequent draughts of the
wine-cup presented to him at every moment by
officious pages during the banquet.
In a word-there is no concealing the matter,
-before the evening was over Don Fernando
was making love outright to the alcayde's
daughter. They had wandered together to a
moon-lit balcony of the palace, and he was




244         Tales from uivittn
charming her ear with one of those love-ditties
with which, in a like balcony, he had serenaded
the beautiful Serafina.
The damsel hung her head coyly.   "Ah!
Sefior, these are flattering words; but you cavaliers, who roam the seas, are unsteady as its
waves.  To-morrow you will be throned in
state, Adalantado of the Seven Cities, and will
think no more of the alcayde's daughter."
Don Fernando in the intoxication of the moment called the moon to witness his sincerity.
As he raised his hand in adjuration, the chaste
moon cast a ray upon the ring that sparkled on
his finger. It caught the damsel's eye. " Signor Adalantado," said she, archly, "I have no
great faith in the moon, but give me that ring
upon your finger in pledge of the truth of what
you profess."
The gallant Adalantado was taken by surprise;
there was no parrying this sudden appeal; before he had time to reflect, the ring of the
beautiful Serafina glittered on the finger of the
alcayde's daughter.
At this eventful moment the chamberlain approached with lofty demeanor, and announced
that the barge was waiting to bear him back to
the caravel. I forbear to relate the ceremonious partings with the alcayde and his dignitaries, and the tender farewell of the alcayde's




Rbalantabo of tbe Seven Cities 245
daughter. He took his seat in the barge opposite the grand chamberlain. The rowers plied
their crimson oars in the same slow and stately
manner to the cadence of the same mournful
old ditty. His brain was in a whirl with all
that he had seen, and his heart now and then
gave him a twinge as he thought of his temporary infidelity to the beautiful Serafina. The
barge sallied out into the sea, but no caravel
was to be seen; doubtless she had been carried
to a distance by the current of the river. The
oarsmen rowed on; their monotonous chant
had a lulling effect. A drowsy influence crept
over Don Fernando. Objects swam before his
eyes. The oarsmen assumed odd shapes as in a
dream.  The grand chamberlain grew larger
and larger, and taller and taller. He took off
his huge sombrero, and held it over the head
of Don Fernando, like an extinguisher over a
candle. The latter cowered beneath it; he felt
himself sinking in the socket.
"Good-night! Selior Adalantado of the Seven
Cities! " said the grand chamberlain.
The sombrero slowly descended-Don Fernando was extinguished!
How long he remained extinct no mortal man
can tell. When he returned to consciousness
he found himself in a strange cabin, surrounded
by strangers. He rubbed his eyes and looked




246        male from 1Irving
round him wildly. Where was he? On board
a Portuguese ship, bound to Lisbon. How
came he there? He had been taken senseless
from a wreck drifting about the ocean.
Don Fernando was more and more confounded and perplexed. He recalled, one by one,
every thing that had happened to him in the
Island of the Seven Cities, until he had been
extinguished by the sombrero of the grand
chamberlain. But what had happened to him
since? What had become of his caravel? Was
it the wreck of her on which he had been found
floating?
The people about him could give no information on the subject. He entreated them to take
him to the Island of the Seven Cities, which
could not be far off; told them all that had
befallen him there; that he had but to land to
be received as Adalantado, when he would
reward them magnificently for their services.
They regarded his words as the ravings of
delirium, and in their honest solicitude for the
restoration of his reason, administered such
rough remedies that he was fain to drop the
subject and observe a cautious taciturnity.
At length they arrived in the Tagus, and
anchored before the famous city of Lisbon.
Don Fernando sprang joyfully on shore, and
hastened to his ancestral mansion. A strange




;Balantabo of tbe 5ieven Cittie  2 7
porter opened the door, who knew nothing of
him or his family; no people of the name had
inhabited the house for many a year.
He sought the mansion of Don Ramiro. He
approached the balcony beneath which he had
bidden farewell to Serafina. Did his eyes deceive him? No! There was Serafina herself
among the flowers in the balcony. He raised
his arms toward her with an exclamation of rapture. She cast upon him a look of indignation,
and, hastily retiring, closed the casement with
a slam that testified her displeasure.
Could she have heard of his flirtation with
the alcayde's daughter? But that was mere
transient gallantry.  A moment's interview
would dispel every doubt of his constancy.
He rang at the door; as it was opened by the
porter he rushed up stairs, sought the wellknown chamber, and threw himself at the feet
of Serafina. She started back with affright, and
took refuge in the arms of a youthful cavalier.
"What mean you, sefior," cried the latter.
"by this intrusion? "
"What right have you to ask the question?"
demanded Don Fernando fiercely.
" The right of an affianced suitor!"
Don Fernando started and turned pale. " Oh,
Serafina! Serafina! " cried he, in a tone of
agony, " is this thy plighted constancy? "




248        cales froln lrrving
"Serafina? What mean you by Serafina,
sefior? If this be the lady you intend, her
name is Maria."
"May I not believe my senses? May I not
believe my heart? " cried Don Fernando. " Is
not this Serafina Alavrez, the original of yon
portrait, which, less fickle than herself, still
smiles on me from the wall? "
"Holy Virgin!" cried the young lady, casting her eyes upon the portrait. "He is talking
of my great-grandmother!"
An explanation ensued, if that could be
called an explanation which plunged the unfortunate Fernando into tenfold perplexity.
If he might believe his eyes, he saw before him
his beloved Serafina; if he might believe his
ears, it was merely her hereditary form and
features, perpetuated in the person of her greatgranddaughter.
His brain began to spin.  He sought the
office of the Minister of Marine, and made a
report of his expedition, and of the Island of
the Seven Cities, which he had so fortunately
discovered. Nobody knew any thing of such
an expedition, or such an island. He declared
that he had undertaken the enterprise under a
formal contract with the crown, and had received a regular commission, constituting him
Adalantado. This must be matter of record,




1Btalantabo of tbe Seven Cities  249
and he insisted loudly, that the books of the
department should be consulted. The wordy
strife at length attracted the attention of an old
gray-headed clerk, who sat perched on a high
stool, at a high desk, with iron-rimmed spectacles on the top of a thin, pinched nose, copying records into an enormous folio. He had
wintered and sulmmered in the department for
a great part of a century, until he had almost
grown to be a piece of the desk at which he
sat; his memory was a mere index of official
facts and documents, and his brain was little
better than red tape and parchment.  After
peering down for a time from his lofty perch,
and ascertaining the matter in controversy, he
put his pen behind his ear, and descended. He
remembered to have heard some thing from his
predecessor about an expedition of the kind in
question, but then it had sailed during the reign
of Dom Ioam II., and he had been dead at least
a hundred years. To put the matter beyond
dispute, however, the archives of the Torre do
Tombo, that sepulchre of old Portuguese documents, were diligently searched, and a record
was found of a contract between the crown and
one Fernando de Ulnlo, for the discovery of the
Island of the Seven Cities, and of a commission secured to him as Adalantado of the country he might discover.




250         altes from 11rting
"There! " cried Don Fernando, triumphantly,
"there you have proof, before your own eyes,
of what I have said. I am the Fernando de
Ulmo specified in that record. I have discovered the Island of the Seven Cities, and am
entitled to be Adalantado, according to contract."
The story of Don Fernando had certainly
what is pronounced the best of historical foundation, documentary evidence; but when a
man, in the bloom of youth, talked of events
that had taken place about a century previously, as having happened to himself, it is no
wonder that he was set down for a madman.
The old clerk looked at him from above and
below his spectacles, shrugged his shoulders,
stroked his chin, reascended his lofty stool, took
the pen from behind his ear, and resumed his
daily and eternal task, copying records into the
fiftieth volume of a series of gigantic folios.
The other clerks winked at each other shrewdly, and dispersed to their several places, and
poor Don Fernando, thus left to himself, flung
out of the office, almost driven wild by these
perplexities.
In the confusion of his mind, he instinctively
repaired to the mansion of Alvarez, but it was
barred against him. To break the delusion
under which the youth apparently labored, and




WlBalantabo of tbe Seven Citi~C  251
to convince him that the Serafina about whom
he raved was really dead, he was conducted to
her tomb. There she lay, a stately matron, cut
out in alabaster; and there lay her husband beside her, a portly cavalier in armor; and there
knelt, on either side, the effigies of a numerous
progeny, proving that she had been a fruitful
vine. Even the very monument gave evidence
of the lapse of time; the hands of her husband,
folded as if in prayer, had lost their fingers, and
the face of the once lovely Serafina was without
a nose.
Don Fernando felt a transient glow of indignation at beholding this monumental proof of
the inconstancy of his mistress; but who could
expect a mistress to remain constant during a
whole century of absence? And what right had
he to rail about constancy, after what had passed
between himself and the alcayde's daughter?
The unfortunate cavalier performed one pious
act of tender devotion; he had the alabaster
nose of Serafina restored by a skilful statuary,
and then tore himself from the tomb.
He could now no longer doubt the fact that,
somehow or other, he had skipped over the
whole century, during the night he had spent
at the Island of the Seven Cities; and he was
now as complete a stranger in his native city as
if he had never been there. A thousand times




25^2         ales from  Iruving
did he wish himself back to that wonderful
island, with its antiquated banquet halls, where
he had been so courteously received; and now
that the once young and beautiful Serafina was
nothing but a great-grandmother in marble,
with generations of descendants, a thousand
times would he recall the melting black eyes of
the alcayde's daughter, who, doubtless, like
himself, was still flourishing in fresh juvenility,
and breathe a secret wish that he was seated by
her side.
He would at once have set on foot another
expedition, at his own expense, to cruise in
search of the sainted island, but his means were
exhausted. He endeavored to rouse others to
the enterprise, setting forth the certainty of
profitable results, of which his own experience
furnished such unquestionable proof. Alas! no
one would give faith to his tale, but looked
upon it as the feverish dream of a shipwrecked
man. He persisted in his efforts, holding forth
in all places and in all companies,. until he became an object and jeer to the light-minded,
who mistook his earnest enthusiasm for a proof
of insanity; and the very children in the streets
bantered with hini the title of " The Adalantado of the Seven Cities."
Finding all efforts in vain, in his native city
of Lisbon, he took shipping for the Canaries,




Wbalantabo of tbe Seven Cities   253
a, being nearer the latitude of his former
c cuise, and inhabited by people given to nautial adventure. Here he found ready listeners
to his story, for the old pilots and mariners of
those parts were devout island-hunters, and devout believers in all the wonders of the seas.
ndeed, one and all treated his adventure as a
common occurrence, and turning to each other,
with a sagacious nod of the head, observed:
H'e has been at the Island of St. Brandan."
They then went on to inform hin of that
great marvel and enigma of the ocean, of its repeated appearance to the inhabitants of their
island, and of the many but ineffectual expeditions that had been made in search of it. They
took him to a promontory of the island of Paln a, whence the shadowy St. Brandan had ofttnest been descried, and they pointed out the
very tract in the west where its mountains had
been seen.
Don Fernando listened with rapt attention.
T-e had no longer a doubt that this mysterious
Lnd fugacious island must be the same with
hat of the Seven Cities, and that some superlatural influence connected with it had opeated upon himself, and made the events of a
light occupy the space of a century.
He endeavored, but in vain, to rouse the
slanders to another attempt at discovery; they




254        taleo from l[rtni
had given up the phantom island as indeed inaccessible. Fernando, however, was not to be
discouraged. The idea wore itself deeper and
deeper in his mind, until it became the engrossing subject of his thoughts and object of his
being. Every morning he would repair to the
promontory of Palma, and sit there throughout
the livelong day, in hopes of seeing the fairy
mountains of St. Brandan peeping above the
horizon; every evening he returned to his
home a disappointed man, but ready to resunr,e
his post on the following morning.
His assiduity was all in vain. He grew gray
in his ineffectual attempt, and was at length
found dead at his post. His grave is still shown
in the island of Palma, and a cross is erected on
the spot where he used to sit and look out upon
the sea, in hopes of the reappearance of the
phantom island.
NoTrE. — or various particulars concerning
the Island of St. Brandan and the Island of the
Seven Cities, those ancient problems of the
ocean, the curious reader is referred to articles
under those heads in the Appendix to the " Life
of Columbus."




THE STUDENT OF SALAMANCA.
What a life doe I lead with my master; nothing but
blowing ofbellowes, beating of spirits, and scraping of
croslets! It is a very secret science, for none almost can
understand the language of it. Sublimation, almigation,
calcination, rubification, albification, and fermentation;
with as many termes unpossible to be uttered as the arte
to be compassed.-LrLLY'S GALLATHEA.
( NCE   upon a time, in the ancient city of
Granada, there sojourned a young man of
the name of Antonio de Castros. He wore the
garb of a student of Salamanca, and was pursuing a course of reading in the library of the
university, and at intervals of leisure indulging
his curiosity by examining those remains of
Moorish magnificence for which Granada is renowned.
Whilst occupied in his studies, he frequently
noticed an old man of singular appearance, who
was likewise a visitor to the library. He was
lean and withered, though apparently more
from study than from age. His eyes, though
bright and visionary, were sunk in his head,
and thrown into shade by overhanging eyeVol. II -T7




256     -  tales from 1irving
brows. His dress was always the same,-a
black doublet, a short black coat, very rusty
and threadbare, a small ruff, and a large overshadowing hat.
His appetite for knowledge seemed insatiable.
He would pass whole days in the library, absorbed in study, consulting a multiplicity of
authors, as though he were pursuing some interesting subject through all its ramifications;
so that when evening came he was almost
- buried among books and manuscripts.
The curiosity of Antonio was excited, and he
inquired of the attendants concerning the stranger. No one could give him any information,
excepting that he had been for some time past
a casual frequenter of the library; that his
reading lay chiefly among works treating of
the occult sciences, and that he was particularly
curious in his inquiries after Arabian manuscripts.  They added that he never held communication vwith any one, excepting to ask for
particular works; that after a fit of studious application he would disappear for several days,
and even weeks, and when he revisited the library he would look more withered and haggard
than ever.  The student felt interested by this
account; he was leading rather a desultory
life, and had all that capricious curiosity which
springs up in idleness. He determined to make




Ube Student of Salamanca       257
himself acquainted with this book-worm, and
find out who and what he was.
The next time that he saw the old man at the
library he commenced his approaches by requesting permission to look into one of the
volumes with which the unknown appeared to
have done. The latter merely bowed his head
in token of assent. After pretending to look
through the volume with great attention, he
returned it with many acknowledgments. The
stranger made no reply.
"May I ask, sefior," said Antonio, with some
hesitation, " may I ask what you are searching
after in all these books? "
The old man raised his head, with an expression of surprise at having his studies interrupted
for the first time, and by so intrusive a question. He surveyed the student with a sideglance from head to foot: "Wisdom, my son,"
said he, calmly; " and the search requires every
moment of my attention." He then cast his
eyes upon his book, and resumed his studies.
"But, father," said Antonio, " cannot you spare
a moment to point out the road to others? It is
to experienced travellers, like you, that we
strangers in the path of knowledge must look
for directions on our journey."
The stranger looked disturbed: "I have not
time enough, my son, to learn," said he, " much




258        valIe  from ITrving
less to teach. I am ignorant myself of the path
of true knowledge; how then can I show it to
others?"
"Well, but father""Sefor," said the old man, mildly, but earnestly, "you must see that I have but a few
more steps to the grave. In that short space
have I to accomplish the whole business of my
existence. I have no time for words; every
word is as one grain of sand of my glass wasted.
Suffer me to be alone."
There was no replying to so complete a closing of the door of intimacy. The student found
himself calmly but totally repulsed. Though
curious and inquisitive, he was naturally modest, and on after-thoughts blushed at his own
intrusion. His mind soon became occupied by
other objects. He passed several days wandering among the mouldering piles of Moorish
architecture, those melancholy monuments of
an elegant and voluptuous people. He paced
the deserted halls of the Alhambra, the paradise of the Moorish kings. He visited the
great court of the lions, famous for the perfidous massacre of the gallant Abencerrages. He
gazed with admiration at its Moorish cupolas,
gorgeously painted in gold and azure; its basins
of marble, its alabaster vase, supported by lions,
and storied with inscriptions.




Zbe Stubent of Salamanca


259


His imagination kindled as he wandered
among these scenes. They were calculated to
awaken all the enthusiasm of a youthful mind.
Most of the halls have anciently been beautified
by fountains. The fine taste of the Arabs delighted in the sparkling purity and reviving
freshness of water, and they erected, as it were,
altars on every side to that delicate element.
Poetry mingles with architecture in the Alhambra. It breathes along the very walls. Wherever Antonio turned his eye he beheld inscriptions in Arabic, wherein the perpetuity of
Moorish power and splendor within these walls
was confidently predicted. Alas! how has the
prophecy been falsified. Many of the basins,
where the fountains had once thrown up their
sparkling showers, were dry and dusty. Some
of the palaces were turned into gloomy convents, and the barefoot monk paced through
those courts which had once glittered with
the array and echoed to the music of Moorish
chivalry.
In the course of his rambles, the student more
than once encountered the old man of the
library. He. was always alone, and so full of
thought as not to notice any one about him.
He appeared to be intent upon studying those
half-buried inscriptions, which are found, here
and there, among the Moorish ruins, and seem




20o      wales froim 1rvifnl
to murmur from the earth the tale of former
greatness. The greater part of these have since
been translated; but they were supposed by
many, at the time, to contain symbolical revelaLions, and golden maxims of the Arabian sages
and astrologers. As Antonio saw the stranger
apparently deciphering these inscriptions, he
felt an eager longing to make his acquaintance,
and to participate in his curious researches;
but the repulse he had met with at the library
deterred him from making any further advances.
He had directed his steps one evening to the
sacred mount which overlooks the beautiful
valley watered by the Darro, the fertile plains
of the Vega, and all that rich diversity of vale
and mountain which surrounds Granada with
an earthly paradise. It was twilight when he
found himself at the place where, at the present
day, are situated the chapels known by the
name of the Sacred Furnaces. They are so
called from grottos, in which some of the primitive saints are said to have been burnt. At the
time of Antonio's visit the place was an object
of much curiosity. In an excavation of these
grottos, several manuscripts had recently beei
discovered engraved on plates of lead. They
were written in the Arabian language, excelting one, which was in unknown characters,




{be Stubent of Salamanca


26J


The Pope had issued a bull forbidding any one,
under pain of excommunication, to speak of
these manuscripts. The prohibition had only
excited the greater curiosity; and many reports
were whispered about, that these manuscripts
contained treasures of dark and forbidden
knowledge.
As Antonio was examining the place whence
these mysterious manuscripts had been drawn,
he again observed the old man of the library
wandering among the ruins. His curiosity was
now fully awakened; the time and place served
to stimulate it. He resolved to watch this
groper after secret and forgotten lore, and to
trace him to his habitation. There was something like adventure in the thing, which
charmed his romantic disposition. He followed
the stranger, therefore, at a little distance; at
first cautiously, but he soon observed him to be
so wrapt in his own thoughts, as to take little
heed of external objects.
They passed along the skirts of the mountain,
and then by the shady banks of the Darro.
They pursued their way, for some distance from
Granada, along a lonely road leading among
the hills. The gloom of evening was gathering,
and it was quite dark when the stranger stopped
at the portal of a solitary mansion.
It appeared to be a mere wing, or ruined




262        Caiee from  Irvino
fragment, of what had once been a pile of some
consequence. The walls were of great thickness, the windows narrow, and generally secured by iron bars. The door was of planks,
studded with iron spikes, and had been of great
strength, though at present much decayed. At
one end of the mansion was a ruinous tower, in
the Moorish style of architecture. The edifice
had probably been a country retreat, or castle
of pleasure, during the occupation of Granada
by the Moors, and rendered sufficiently strong
to withstand any casual assault in those warlike times.
The old man knocked at the portal. A light
appeared at a small window just above it, and a
female head looked out: It might have served
as a model for one of Raphael's saints. The
hair was beautifully braided, and gathered in a
silken net; and the complexion, as well as
could be judged from the light, was that soft,
rich brunette so becoming in southern beauty.
"It is I, my child," said the old man. The
face instantly disappeared, and soon after a
wicket-door in the large portal opened. Antonio, who had ventured near to the building,
caught a transient sight of a delicate female
form. A pair of fine black eyes darted a look
of surprise at seeing a stranger hover near, and
the door was precipitately closed.




abe itubent of Sialamanca     263
There was something in this sudden gleam of
beauty that wonderfully struck the imagination
of the student. It was like a brilliant flashing
from its dark casket. He sauntered about, regarding the gloomy pile with increasing interest. A few simple, wild notes, from among
some rocks and trees at a little distance, attracted his attention. He found there a group
of Gitanas, a vagabond gypsy race, which at
that time abounded in Spain, and lived in
hovels and caves of the hills about the neighborhood of Granada. Some were busy about a
fire, and others were listening to the uncouth
music which one of their companions, seated on
a ledge of the rock, was making with a split
reed.
Antonio endeavored to obtain some information of them concerning the old building and
its inhabitants. The one who appeared to be
their spokesman was a gaunt fellow, with a
subtle gait, a whispering voice, and a sinister
roll of the eye. He shrugged his shoulders, on
the student's inquiries, and said: "All was not
right in that building. An old man inhabited
it, whom nobody knew, and whose family appeared to be only a daughter and a female servant. I and my companions," he added, "live
up among the neighboring hills; and as we
have been about at night, we have often seen




264         tales from I~rvitn
strange lights and heard strange sounds from
the tower. Some of the country people, who
work in the vineyards among the hills, believe
the old man deals in the black art, and they are
not over-fond of passing near the tower at night.
But for our parts, we Gitanas are not a people
to trouble ourselves with fears of that kind."
The student endeavored to gain more precise information, but they had none to furnish
him. They began to be solicitous for a compensation for what they had already imparted;
and, recollecting the loneliness of the place,
and the vagabond character of his companions,
he was glad to give them a gratuity and hasten
homeward.
He sat down to his studies, but his brain was
too full of what he had seen and heard; his eye
was upon the page, but his fancy still returned
to the tower, and he was continually picturing
the little window, with the beautiful head peeping out; or the door half open, and the nymphlike form within. He retired to bed, but the
same objects haunted his dreams. He was
young and susceptible; and the excited state of
his feelings, from wandering among the abodes
of departed grace and gallantry, had predisposed him for a sudden impression from female
beauty.
The next morning he strolled again in the




tbe Stubent of Salamanca


265


direction of the tower. It was still more forlorn
by the broad glare of day than in the gloom of
evening. The walls were crumbling, and weeds
and moss were growing in every crevice. It
had the look of a prison rather than a dwellinghouse. In one angle, however, he remarked a
window which seemed an exception to the surrounding squalidness.  There was a curtain
drawn within it, and flowers standing on the
window-stone. Whilst he was looking at it, the
curtain was partially withdrawn, and a delicate
white arm, of the most beautiful roundness, was
put forth to water the flowers.
The student made a noise to attract the attention of the fair florist. He succeeded. The curtain was further drawn, and he had a glance of
the same lovely face he had seen the evening
before. It was but a mere glance; the curtain
again fell, and the casement closed. All this
was calculated to excite the feelings of romantic
youth. Had he seen the unknown under other
circumstances, it is probable he would not have
been struck with her beauty; but this appearance of being shut up and kept apart gave her
the value of a treasured gem. He passed and
repassed before the house several times in the
course of the day, but saw nothing more. He
was there again in the evening. The whole
aspect of the house was dreary. The narrow




266       'tales from Irvin   -
windows emitted no rays of cheerful light, to
indicate social life within. Antonio listened at
the portal, but no sound of voices reached his
ear. Just then he heard the clapping to of a
distant door, and fearing to be detected in the
unworthy act of eavesdropping, he precipitately
drew off to the opposite side of the road, and
stood in the shadow of a ruined archway.
He now remarked a light from a window in
the tower. It was fitful and changeable; commonly feeble and yellowish, as if from a lamp;
with an occasional glare of some vivid metallic
color, followed by a dusky glow. A column of
dense smoke would now and then rise in the
air, and hang like a canopy over the tower.
There was altogether such a loneliness and
seeming mystery about the building and its
inhabitants, that Antonio was half inclined to
indulge the country people's notions, and to
fancy it the den of some powerful sorcerer, and
the fair damsel he had seen to be some spellbound beauty.
After some time had elapsed, a light appeared
in the window where he had seen the beautiful
arm. The curtain was down, but it was so thin
that he could perceive the shadow of some one
passing and repassing between it and the light.
He fancied he could distinguish that the form
was delicate; and from the alacrity of its move



Cbe Stubent of Sialaianca


267


ments it was evidently youthful. He had not
a doubt but this was the bedchamber of his
beautiful unknown.
Presently he heard the sound of a guitar, and
a female voice singing. He drew near cautiously, and listened. It was a plaintive Moorish
ballad, and he recognized in it the lamentations
of one of the Abencerrages on leaving the walls
of lovely Granada. It was full of passion and
tenderness. It spoke of the delights of early
life; the hours of love it had enjoyed on the
banks of the Darro, and among the blissful
abodes of the Alhambra. It bewailed the fallen
honors of the Abencerrages, and imprecated
vengeance on their oppressors. Antonio was
affected by the music. It singularly coincided
with the place. It was like the voice of past
times echoed in the present, and breathing
among the monuments of its departed glories.
The voice ceased; after a time the light disappeared, and all was still. "She sleeps!" said
Antonio, fondly. He lingered about the building with the devotion with which a lover lingers
about the bower of sleeping beauty. The rising
moon threw its silver beams on the gray walls,
and glittered on the casement. The late gloomy
landscape gradually became flooded with its radiance. Finding, therefore, that he could no
longer move about in obscurity, and fearful that




263        tales from Irving
his loiterings might be observed, he reluctantly
retired.
The curiosity which had at first drawn the
young man to the tower was now seconded by
feelings of a more romantic kind. His studies
were almost entirely abandoned. He maintained
a kind of blockade of the old mansion; he
would take a book with him, and pass a great
part of the day under the trees in its vicinity;
keeping a vigilant eye upon it, and endeavoring
to ascertain what were the walks of his mysterious charmer. She never went out, however,
except to mass, when she was accompanied by
her father. He waited at the door of the church,
and offered her the holy water, in the hopes of
touching her hand: a little office of gallantry
common in Catholic countries. She modestly
declined, without raising her eyes to see who
made the offer, and always took it herself from
the font. She was attentive in her devotion:
her eyes were never taken from the altar or the
priest; and on returning home, her countenance
was almost entirely concealed by her mantilla
Antonio had now carried on the pursuit fo.
several days, and was hourly getting more an l
more interested in the chase, but never a ste)
nearer to the game. His lurkings about tb
house had probably been noticed, for he i u
longer saw the fair face at the window, nor tL he




tbe Stubent of Salamanca


269


white arm put forth to water the flowers. His
only consolation was to repair nightly to his
post of observation and listen to her warbling;
and if by chance he could catch a sight of her
shadow, passing and repassing before the window, he thought himself most fortunate.
As he was indulging in one of these evening
vigils, which were complete revels of the imagination, the sound of approaching footsteps
made him withdraw into the deep shadow of
the ruined archway, opposite to the tower. A
cavalier approached, wrapped in a large Spanish cloak. He paused under the window of the
tower, and after a little while began a serenade,
accompanied by his guitar, in the usual style
of Spanish gallantry. His voice was rich and
manly; he touched the instrument with skill,
and sang with amorous and impassioned eloquence. The plume of his hat was buckled by
jewels that sparkled in the moonbeams; and,
as he played on the guitar, his cloak falling off
from one shoulder showed him to be richly
dressed. He was evidently a person of rank.
The idea now flashed across Antonio's mind
that the affections of his unknown beauty might
be engaged. She was young, and doubtless
susceptible; and it was not in the nature of
Spanish females to be deaf and insensible to
music and admiration. The surmise brought




270         tales from 1[rving
with it a feeling of dreariness. There was a
pleasant dream of several days suddenly dispelled. He had never before experienced any
thing of the tender passion; and, as its morning dreams are always delightful, he would fain
have continued in the delusion.
"But what have I to do with her attachments? " thought he; "I have no claim on her
heart, nor even on her acquaintance. How do
I know that she is worthy of affection? Or if
she is, must not so gallant a lover as this, with
his jewels, his rank, and his detestable music,
have completely captivated her?  What idle
humor is this that I have fallen into? I must
again to my books. Study, study will soon
chase away all these idle fancies! "
The more he thought, however, the more he
became entangled in the spell which his lively
imagination had woven round him; and now
that a rival had appeared, in addition to the
other obstacles that environed this enchanted
beauty, she appeared ten times more lovely and
desirable. It was some slight consolation to
him to perceive that the gallantry of the unknown met with no apparent return from the
tower. The light at the window was extinguished. The curtain remained undrawn, and
none of the customary signals were given to
intimate that the serenade was accepted.




Cbe Stuecnt of Salananca      27r
The cavalier lingered for some time about the
place, and sang several other tender airs with a
taste and feeling that made Antonio's heart
ache; at length he slowly retired. The student
remained with folded arms, leaning against the
ruined arch, endeavoring to summon up resolution to depart; but a romantic fascination
still enchained him to the place.  "It is the
last time," said he, willing to compromise between his feelings and his judgment, " it is the
last time; then let me enjoy the dream a few
moments longer."
As his eye ranged about the old building to
take a farewell look, he observed the strange
light in the tower, which he had noticed on a
former occasion. It kept beaming up, and declining as before. A pillar of smoke rose in
the air, and hung in sable volumes. It was
evident the old man was busied in some of
those operations which had gained him the reputation of a sorcerer throughout the neighborhood.
Suddenly an intense and brilliant glare shone
through the casement, followed by a loud report, and then a fierce and ruddy glow. A figure appeared at the window, uttering cries of
agony or alarm, but immediately disappeared,
and a body of smoke and flame whirled out
of the narrow aperture. Antonio rushed to the
Vol. II-18




272        'Cale ftronm rvting
portal, and knocked at it with vehemence. He
was only answered by loud shrieks, and found
that the females were already in helpless consternation.  With an exertion of desperate
strength, he forced the wicket from its hinges,
and rushed into the house.
He found himself in a small vaulted hall, and
by the light of the moon which entered at the
door, he saw a staircase to the left. He hurried
up it to a narrow corridor, through which was
rolling a volume of smoke. He found here the
two females in a frantic state of alarm; one of
them clasped her hands, and implored him to
save her father.
The corridor terminated in a spiral flight of
steps, leading up to the tower. He sprang up
it to a small door, through the chinks of which
came a glow of light, and smoke was spuming
out. He burst it open, and found himself in an
antique vaulted chamber, furnished with furnace and various chemical apparatus. A shattered retort lay on the stone floor; a quantity
of combustibles, nearly consumed, with various
half-burnt books and papers, were sending up
an expiring flame, and filling the chamber with
stifling smoke. Just within the threshold lay
the reputed conjuror. He was bleeding, his
clothes were scorched, and he appeared lifeless.
Antonio caught him up, and bore him down the




Ube Student of Salamanca      273
stairs to a chamber in which there was a light,
and laid him on a bed. The female domestic
was despatched for such appliances as the house
afforded; but the daughter threw herself frantically beside her parent, and could not be
reasoned out of her alarm. Her dress was all
in disorder; her dishevelled hair hung in rich
confusion about her neck and bosom, and never
was there beheld a lovelier picture of terror and
affliction.
The skilful assiduities of the scholar soon
produced signs of returning animation in his
patient. The old man's wounds, though severe,
were not dangerous. They had evidently been
produced by the bursting of the retort; in his
bewilderment he had been enveloped in the
stifling metallic vapors which had overpowered
his feeble frame, and had not Antonio arrived
to his assistance it is possible he might never
have recovered.
By slow degrees he came to his senses. He
looked about with a bewildered air at the
chamber, the agitated group around, and the
student who was leaning over him.
"'Where am I? " said he, wildly.
At the sound of his voice his daughter uttered
a faint exclamation of delight.  "My poor
Inez! " said he, embracing her; then putting
his hand to his head, and taking it away stained




274        wales from ~frvtng
with blood, he seemed suddenly to recollect
himself, and to be overcome with emotion.
"Ah!" cried he, "all is over with me! all
gone! all vanished! gone ill a moment! the
labor of a lifetime lost! "
His daughter attempted to soothe him, but he
became slightly delirious, and raved incoherently about malignant demons, and about the
habitation of the green lion being destroyed.
His wounds being dressed, and such other remedies administered as his situation required, he
sunk into a state of quiet. Antonio now turned
his attention to the daughter, whose sufferings
had been little inferior to those of her father.
Having with great difficulty succeeded in tranquillizing her fears, he endeavored to prevail
upon her to retire, and seek the repose so necessary to her frame, proffering to remain by her
father until morning. "I am a stranger, " said
he, "it is true, and my offer may appear intrusive, but I see you are lonely and helpless, and
I cannot help venturing over the limits of mere
ceremony.  Should you feel any scruple or
doubt, however, say but a word, and I will
instantly retire."
There was a frankness, a kindness, and a modesty mingled in Antonio's deportment which
inspired instant confidence; and his simple
scholar's garb was a recommendation in the




Ube StuDent of Salamanca      275
house of poverty. The females consented to
resign the sufferer to his care, as they would be
the better able to attend to him on the morrow.
On retiring, the old domestic was profuse in her
benedictions; the daughter only looked her
thanks; but as they shone through the tears
that filled her fine black eyes, the student
thought them a thousand times the most eloquent
Here, then, he was, by a singular turn of
chance, completely housed within this mysterious mansion. When left to himself, and the
bustle of the scene was over, his heart throbbed
as he looked around the chamber in which he
was sitting. It was the daughter's room, the
promised land toward which he had cast so
many a longing gaze. The furniture was old,
and had probably belonged to the building in
its prosperous days; but every thing was arranged with propriety. The flowers which he
had seen her attend stood in the window; a
guitar leaned against a table, on which stood a
crucifix, and before it lay a missal and a rosary.
There reigned an air of purity and serenity
about this little nestling-place of innocence; it
was the emblem of a chaste and quiet mind..
Some few articles of female dress lay on the
chairs; and there was the very bed on which
she had slept, the pillow on which her soft




276


Ua[ei from  1rvtng


cheek had reclined! The poor scholar was
treading unchanted ground; for what fairyland has more magic in it than the bedchamber
of innocence and beauty?
From various expressions of the old man in
his ravings, and from what he had noticed on a
subsequent visit to tle tower, to see that the fire
was extinguished, Antonio had gathered that
his patient was an alchemist. The philosopher's
stone was an object eagerly sought after by
visionaries in those days; but in consequence
of the superstitious prejudices of the times, and
the frequent persecutions of its votaries, they
were apt to pursue their experiments in secret,
in lonely houses, in caverns and ruins, or in the
privacy of cloistered cells.
In the course of the night the old man had several fits of restlessness and delirium; he would
call out upon Theophrastus, and Geber, and
Albertus Magnus, and other sages of his art;
and anon would murmur about fermentation
and projection, until toward daylight he once
more sunk into a salutary sleep.  When the
morning sun darted his rays into the casement,
the fair Inez, attended by the female domestic,
came blushing into the chamber. The student
now took his leave, having himself need of repose, but obtained ready permission to return
and inquire after the sufferer.




Ube Stubent of Salamanca


277


When he called again he found the alchemist
languid aud in pain, but apparently suffering
more in mind than in body. His delirium had
left him, and he had been informed of the particulars of his deliverance, and of the subsequent attentions of the scholar. He could do
little more than look his thanks; but Antonio
did not require them; his own heart repaid
him for all that he had done, and he almost rejoiced in the disaster that had gained him an
entrance into this mysterious habitation. The
alchemist was so helpless as to need much
assistance. Antonio remained with him, therefore, the greater part of the day. He repeated
his visit the next day, and- the next. Every
day his company seemed more pleasing to the
invalid, and every day he felt his interest in the
latter increasing.  Perhaps the presence of the
daughter might have been at the bottom of this
solicitude.
He had frequent and long conversations with
the alchemist. He found himn, as men of his
pursuits were apt to be, a mixture of enthusiasm
and simplicity; of curious and extensive reading on points of little utility, with great inattention to the every-day occurrences of life, and
profound ignorance of the world.  He was
deeply versed in singular and obscure branches
of knowledge, and much given to visionary




278        'CaIle from  frvitn
speculations. Antonio, whose mind was of a
romantic cast, had himself given some attention
to the occult sciences, and he entered upon
these themes with an ardor that delighted the
philosopher.  Their conversations frequently
turned upon astrology, divination, and the great
secret. The old man would forget his aches and
wounds, rise up like a spectre in his bed, and
kindle iuto eloquence on his favorite topics.
When gently admonished of his situation itwould
but prompt him to another sally of thought.
"Alas, my son!" he would say, " is not this
very decrepitude and suffering another proof of
the importance of those secrets with which we
are surrounded? Why are we tramelled by
disease, withered by old age, and our spirits
quenched, as it were, within us, but because we
have lost those secrets of life and youth which
were known to our parents before their fall?
To regain these have philosophers been ever
since aspiring; but just as they are on the
point of securing the precious secrets forever,
the brief period of life is at an end; they die,
and with them all their wisdom and experience.
'Nothing,' as De Nuysment observes,-' nothing
is wanting for man's perfection but a longer
life, less crossed with sorrows and maladies,
to the attaining of the full and perfect knowledge of things.' "




Ube StuDent of Salamanca


279


At length Antonio so far gained on the heart
of his patient as to draw from him the outlines
of his story.
Felix de Vasques, the alchemist, was a native
of Castile, and of an ancient and honorable line.
Early in life he had married a beautiful female,
a descendant from one of the Moorish families.
The marriage displeased his father, who considered the pure Spanish blood contaminated by
this foreign mixture. It is true, the lady traced
her descent from one of the Abencerrages, the
most gallant of Moorish cavaliers, who had embraced the Christian faith on being exiled from
the walls of Granada. The injured pride of the
father, however, was not to be appeased. He
never saw his son afterwards; and on dying left
him but a scanty portion of his estate; bequeathing the residue, in the piety and bitterness of
his heart, to the erection of convents and the
performance of masses for souls in purgatory.
Don Felix resided for a long time in the neighborhood of Valladolid, in a state of embarrassment and obscurity. He devoted himself to
intense study, having, while at the university
of Salamanca, imbibed a taste for the secret
sciences. He was enthusiastic and speculative;
he went on from one branch of knowledge to
another, until he became zealous in the search
after the grand Arcanum.




280        aCal[e  fronm 1rving
He had at first engaged in the pursuit with
the hopes of raising himself from his present
obscurity, and resuming the rank and dignity
to which his birth entitled him; but, as usual,
it ended in absorbing every thought, and becoming the business of his existence. He was
at length aroused from his mental abstraction
by the calamities of his household. A malignant fever swept off his wife and all his children,
excepting an infant daughter. These losses for
a time overwhelmed and stupefied him. His
home had in a manner died away from around
him, and he felt lonely and forlorn. When his
spirit revived within him, he determined to
abandon the scene of his humiliation and disaster; to bear away the child that was still left
him, beyond the scene of contagion, and never
to return to Castile until he should be enabled
to reclaim the honors of his line.
He had ever since been wandering and unsettled in his abode. Sometimes the resident of
populous cities, at other times of absolute solitudes. He had searched libraries, meditated on
inscriptions, visited adepts of different countries,
and sought to gather and concentrate the rays
which had been thrown by various minds upon
the secrets of alchemy. He had at one time
travelled quite to Padua to search for the manuscripts of Pietro d'Abano, and to inspect an urn




Cbe Stubent of i;alamanca          281
which had been dug up near Este, supposed to
have been buried by Maximus Olybius, and to
have contained the grand elixir.*
While at Padua he met with an adept versed
in Arabian lore, who talked of the invaluable
manuscripts that must remain in the Spanish
libraries, preserved from the spoils of the Moorish academies and universities; of the probability of meeting with precious unpublished
writings of Geber, and Alfarabius, and Avicenna, the great physicians of the Arabian
schools, who, it was well known, had treated
much of alchemy; but, above all, he spoke of
the Arabian tablets of lead which had recently
been dug up in the neighborhood of Granada,
and which, it was confidently believed among
adepts, contained the lost secrets of the art.
The indefatigable alchemist once more bent
his steps for Spain, full of renovated hope. He
* This urn was found in 1533. It contained a lesser one,
in which was a burning lamp betwixt two small vials,
the one of gold, the other of silver, both of them full of
a very clear liquor. On the largest was an inscription
stating that Maximus Olybius shut up in this small vessel elements which he had prepared with great toil.
There were many disquisitions among the learned on
the subject. It was the most received opinion that this
Maximus Olybius was an inhabitant of Padua; that he
had discovered the great secret, and that these vessels
contained liquor, one to transmute metals to gold, the
other to silver. The peasants who found the urns,
imagining this precious liquor to be common water,
spilt every drop, so that the art of transmuting metals
remains as much a secret as ev'.




282        Bales from   irving
had made his way to Granada; he had wearied
himself in the study of Arabic, in deciphering
inscriptions, in rummaging libraries, and exploring every possible trace left by the Arabian
sages.
In all his wanderings he had been accompanied by Inez; through the rough and the
smooth, the pleasant and the adverse; never
complaining, but rather seeking to soothe his
cares by her innocent and playful caresses.
Her instruction had been the employment and
the delight of his hours of relaxation. She had
grown up while they were wandering, and had
scarcely ever known any home but by his side.
He was family, friends, home, every thing to
her. He had carried her in his arms when
they first began their wayfaring; had nestled
her, as an eagle does its young, among the
rocky heights of the Sierra Morena; she had
sported about him in childhood in the solitudes
of the Bateucas; had followed him, as a lamb
does the shepherd, over the rugged Pyrenees,
and into the fair plains of Languedoc; and
now she was grown up to support his feeble
steps among the ruined abodes of her maternal
ancestors.
His property had gradually wasted away in
the course of his travels and his experiments
Still hope, the constant attendant of the al



Ube Stubent of Salamanca      283
chemist, had led him on; ever on the point
of reaping the reward of his labors, and ever
disappointed.  With the credulity that often
attended his art, he attributed many of his disappointments to the machinations of the malignant spirits which beset the path of the alchemist, and torment him in his solitary labors.
"It is their constant endeavor," he observed,
"to close up every avenue to those sublime
truths which would enable man to rise above
the abject state into which he has fallen, and to
return to his original perfection." To the evil
offices of these demons he attributed his late
disaster. He had been on the very verge of the
glorious discovery; never were the indications
more completely auspicious; all was going on
prosperously, when, at the critical moment
which should have crowned his labors with
success, and have placed him at the very summit of human power and felicity, the bursting
of a retort had reduced his laboratory and himself to ruins.
" I must now," said he, " give up at the very
threshold of success. My books and papers are
burnt; my apparatus is broken. I am too old
to bear up against these evils. The ardor that
once inspired me is gone; my poor frame is exhausted by study and watchfulness, and this
last misfortune has hurried me towards the




284;ales from Irving
grave." He concluded in a tone of deep dejection. Antonio endeavored to comfort and reassure him; but the poor alchemist had for once
awakened to a consciousness of the worldly ills
gathering around him, and had sunk into despondency. After a pause, and some thoughtfulness and perplexity of brow, Antonio ventured to make a proposal.
"I have long," said he, "been filled with a
love for the secret sciences, but have felt too
ignorant and diffident to give myself up to
them. You have acquired experience; you
have amassed the knowledge of a lifetime; it
were a pity it should be thrown away. You say
you are too old to renew the toils of the laboratory; suffer me to undertake them. Add your
knowledge to my youth and activity, and what
shall we not accomplish? As a probationary
fee, and a fund on which to proceed, I will
bring into the common stock a sum of gold,
the residue of a legacy, which has enabled me
to complete my education. A poor scholar cannot boast much; but I trust we shall soon put
ourselves beyond the reach of want; and if we
should fail, why, I must depend, like other
scholars, upon my brains to carry me through
the world."
The philosopher's spirits, however, were more
depressed than the student had imagined. This




ibe Stubent of ialamanca      285
last shock, following in the rear of so many
disappointments, had almost destroyed the reaction of his mind. The fire of an enthusiast,
however, is never so low, but that it may be
blown again into a flame. By degrees the old
man was cheered and reanimated by the buoyancy and ardor of his sanguine companion.
He at length agreed to accept of the services of
the student, and once more to renew his experiments. He objected, however, to using the
student's gold, notwithstanding his own was
nearly exhausted; but this objection was soon
overcome; the student insisted on making it a
common stock and common cause;-and then
how absurd was any delicacy about such a trifle,
with men who looked forward to discovering
the philosopher's stone!
While, therefore, the alchemist was slowly recovering, the student busied himself in getting
the laboratory once more in order.  It was
strewed with the wrecks of retorts and alembics, with old crucibles, boxes, and phials of
powders and tinctures, and half-burnt books and
manuscripts.
As soon as the old man was sufficiently recovered, the studies and experiments were renewed.
The student became a privileged and frequent
visitor, and was indefatigable in his toils in the
laboratory. The philosopher daily derived new




286        Cales front Irving
zeal and spirits from the animation of his disciple. He was now enabled to prosecute the enterprise with continued exertion, having so
active a coadjutor to divide the toil. While he
was poring over the writings of Sandivogius,
and Philalethes, and Dominus de Nuysment,
and endeavoring to comprehend the symbolical
language in which they have locked up their
mysteries, Antonio would occupy himself among
the retorts and crucibles, and keep the furnace
in a perpetual glow.
With all his zeal, however, for the discovery
of the golden art, the feelings of the student
had not cooled as to the object that first drew
him to this ruinous mansion. During the old
man's illness, he had frequent opportunities of
being near the daughter; and every day made
him more sensible to her charms. There was a
pure simplicity, and an almost passive gentleness in her manners; yet with all this was mingled something, whether mere maiden shyness,
or a consciousness of high descent, or a dash of
Castilian pride, or perhaps all united, that prevented undue familiarity, and made her difficult
of approach. The danger of her father, and
the measures to be taken for his relief, had at
first overcome this coyness and reserve; but as
he recovered and her alarm subsided, she
seemed to shrink from the familiarity she had




Ube Stubent of Salamanca


287


indulged with the youthful stranger, and to become every day more shy and silent.
Antonio had read many books, but this was
the first volume of womankind that he had ever
studied. He had been captivated with the very
title-page; but the further he read the more he
was delighted.  She seemed formed to love;
her soft black eye rolled languidly under its
long silken lashes, and wherever it turned, it
would linger and repose; there was tenderness
in every beam. To him alone she was reserved
and distant. Now that the common cares of
the sick-room were at an end, he saw little more
of her than before his admission to the house.
Sometimes he met her on his way to and from
the laboratory, and at such times there was ever
a smile and a blush; but, after a simple salutation, she glided on and disappeared.
"'T is plain," thought Antonio, "my presence is indifferent, if not irksome to her. She
has noticed my admiration, and is determined
To discourage it; nothing but a feeling of gratitude prevents her treating -me with marked distaste;-and then has she not another lover, rich,
gallant, splendid, musical? how can I suppose
she would turn her eyes from so brilliant a cavalier to a poor obscure student, raking among
the cinders of her father's laboratory? "
Indeed, the idea of the amorous serenader
Vol., TI.- -




288        Cales trom llrvinfl
continually haunted his mind. He felt convinced that he was a favored lover; yet, if so,
why did he not frequent the tower? Why did
he-not make his approaches by noonday? There
was mystery in this eavesdropping and musical
courtship. Surely Inez could not be encouraging a secret intrigue! Oh, no! she was too
artless, too pure, too ingenuous! But then the
Spanish females were so prone to love and intrigue; and music and moonlight were so seductive, and Inez had such a tender soul
languishing in every look. "Oh!" would the
poor scholar exclaim, clasping his hands,-" oh
that I could but once behold those loving eyes
beaming on me with affection! "
It is incredible to those who have not experienced it, on what scanty aliment human life and
human love may be supported. A dry crust,
thrown now and then to a starving man, will
give him a new lease of existence; and a faint
smile, or a kind look, bestowed at casual intervals, will keep a lover loving on, when a man
in his sober senses would despair.  -
When Antonio found himself alone in the laboratory, his mind would be haunted by one of
these looks, or smiles, which he had received in
passing. He would set it in every possible light,
and argue on it with. all the self-pleasing, selfteasing logic of a lover.




Cbe Student of Salamanca      289
The country around was enough to awaken
that voluptuousness of feeling so favorable to
the growth of passion. The windows of the
tower rose above the trees of the romantic valley
of the Darro, and looked down upon some of
the loveliest scenery of the Vega, where groves
of citron and orange were refreshed by cool
springs and brooks of the purest water. The
Xenel and the Darro wound their shining
streams along the plain, and gleamed from
among its bowers. The surrounding hills were
covered with vineyards, and the mountains,
crowned with snow, seemed to melt into the
blue sky. The delicate airs that played about
the tower were perfumed by the fragrance of
myrtle and orange-blossoms, and the ear was
charmed with the fond warbling of the nightingale, which, in these happy regions, sings the
whole day long, Sometimes, too, there was the
idle song of the muleteer, sauntering along the
solitary road, or the notes of the guitar from
some group of peasants dancing in the shade.
All these were enough'to fill the head of a young
lover with poetic fancies; and Antonio would
picture to himself how he could loiter among
those happy groves, and wander by those gentle
rivers, and love away his life with Inez.
He felt at times impatient at his own weakness. and would endeavor to brush away these




290        'ates trom 1rritno
cobwebs of the mind. He would turn his
thought, with sudden effort, to his occult studies, or occupy himself in some perplexing
process; but often, when he had partially succeeded in fixing his attention, the sound of
Inez's lute, or the soft notes of her voice, would
come stealing upon the stillness of the chamber,
and, as it were, floating round the tower. There
was no great art in her performance; but Antonio thought he had never heard music comparable to this. It was perfect witchcraft to hear
her warble forth some of her national melodies;
those little Spanish romances and Moorish ballads which transport the hearer, in idea, to the
banks of the Guadalquiver, or the walls of the
Alhambra, and make him dream of beauties,
and balconies, and moonlight serenades.
Never was poor student more sadly beset than
Antonio. Love is a troublesome companion in
a study at the best of times; but in the laboratory of an alchemist his intrusion is terribly
disastrous. Instead of attending to the retorts
and crucibles, and watching the process of some
experiment intrusted to his charge, the student
would get entranced in one of these love-dreams,
from which he would often be aroused by sonic
fatal catastrophe. The philosopher, on returning from his researches in the libraries, would
find every thing gone wrong, and Antonio in




Cbe itubent of Salamanca


291


despair over the ruins of the whole day's
work. The old man, however, took all quietly,
for his had been a life of experiment and
failure.
"We must have patience, my son," would he
say, "as all the great masters that have gone
before us have had. Errors and accidents and
delays are what we have to contend with. Did
not Pontanus err two hundred times before he
could obtain even the matter on which to found
his experiments? The great Flamel, too, did he
not labor four-and-twenty years before he ascertained the first agent? What difficulties and
hardships did not Cartilaceus encounter at the
very threshold of his discoveries? And Bernard
de Treves, even after he had attained a knowledge of all the requisites, was he not delayed
full three years? What you consider accidents,
my son, are the machinations of our invisible
enemies. The treasures and golden secrets of
nature are surrounded by spirits hostile to man.
Ihe air about us teems with them. They lurk
in the fire of the furnace, in the bottom of the
crucible and the alembic, and are ever on the
alert to take advantage of those moments when
our minds are wandering from intense meditation on the great truth that we are seeking.
We must only strive the more to purify ourselves from those gross and earthly feelings




292          alc~ ftronm 1rving
which becloud the soul, and prevent her from
piercing into nature's arcana."
" Alas! " thought Antonio, "if to be purified
from all earthly feelings requires that I should
cease to love Inez, I fear I shall never discover
the philosopher's stone! "
In this way matters went on for some time at
the alchemist's. Day after day was sending the
student's gold in vapor up the chimney; every
blast of the furnace made him a ducat the
poorer, without apparently helping him a jot
nearer to the golden secret. Still the young man
stood by and saw piece after piece disappearing
without a murmur: he had daily an opportunity
of seeing Inez, and felt as if her favor would be
better than silver or gold, and that every smile
was worth a ducat.
Sometimes in the cool of the evening, when
the toils of the laboratory happened to be suspended, he would walk with the alchemist in
what had once been a garden belonging to the
mansion. There were still the remains of terraces and balustrades, and here and there a marble urn, or mutilated statue overturned, and buried among weeds and flowers run wild. It was
the favorite resort of the alchemist in his hours
of relaxation, where he would give full scope to
his visionary flights. His mind was tinctured
with the Rosicrucian doctrines. He believed in




Ube $tubent of Ealamanca


293


elementary beings; some favorable, others adverse to his pursuits; and in the exaltation of
his fancy, had often imagined that he held communion with them in his solitary walks about
the whispering groves and echoing walls of this
old garden.
When accompanied by Antonio, he would
prolong these evening recreations. Indeed, he
sometimes did it out of consideration for his
disciple, for he feared lest his too close application, and his incessant seclusion in the tower,
should be injurious to his health. He was delighted and surprised by this extraordinary zeal
and perseverance in so young a tyro, and looked
upon him as destined to be one of the great
luminaries of the art. Lest the student should
repine at the time lost in these relaxations, the
good alchemist would fill them up with wholesome knowledge, in matters connected with
their pursuits; and would walk up and down
the alleys with his disciple, imparting oral instruction like an ancient philosopher. In all
his visionary schemes there breathed a spirit of
lofty though chimerical philanthropy, that won
the admiration of the scholar. Nothing sordid,
nor sensual; nothing petty nor selfish seemed
to enter into his views, in respect to the grand
discoveries he was anticipating. On the contrary, his imagination kindled with conceptions




294         Jale  from litring
of widely dispensated happiness. He looked
forward to the time when he should be able to
go about the earth relieving the indigent, comforting the distressed; and, by his unlimited
means, devising aud executing plans for the
complete extirpation of poverty, and all its
attendant sufferings and crimes. Never were
grander schemes for general good, for the distribution of boundless wealth and universal
competence, devised, than by this poor, indigent
alchemist in his ruined tower.
Antonio would attend these peripatetic lectures with all the ardor of a devotee; but there
was another circumstance which may have
given a secret charm to them. The garden was
the resort also of Inez, where she took her walks
of recreation, the only exercise her secluded
life permitted.  As Antonio was duteously
pacing by the side of his instructor, he would
often catch a glimpse of the daughter, walking
pensively about the alleys in the soft twilight.
Sometimes they would meet her unexpectedly,
and the heart of the student would throb with
agitation. A blush, too, would crimson the
cheek of Inez, but still she passed on, and
never joined them.
He had remained one evening until rather a
late hour with the alchemist in this favorite
resort. It waas a delightful night after a sultry




Cbe!Stuuent of Salamatnca     295
day, and the balmy air of the garden was peculiarly reviving. The old man was seated on
a fragment of a pedestal, looking like a part of
the ruin on which he sat. He was edifying his
pupil by long lessons of wisdom from the stars,
as they shone out with brilliant lustre in the
dark-blue vault of a southern sky; for he was
deeply versed in Behmen, and other of the Rosicrucians, and talked much of the signature of
earthly things, and passing events, which may
be discerned in the heavens; of the power of
the stars over corporeal beings, and their influence on the fortunes of the sons of men.
By degrees the moon rose and shed her gleaming light among the groves. Antonio apparently listened with fixed attention to the sage, but
his ear was drinking in the melody of Inez's
voice, who was singing to her lute in one of the
moonlight glades of the garden. The old man
having exhausted his theme, sat gazing in silent
reverie at the heavens. Antonio could not resist an inclination to steal a look at this coy
beauty, who was thus playing the part of the
nightingale, so sequestered and musical. Leaving the alchemist in his celestial reverie, he
stole gently along one of the alleys. The music had ceased, and he thought he heard the
sound of voices. He came to an angle of a
copse that had screened a kind of green recess,




296        talc ftrom Itrvutn
ornamented by a marble fountain. The moon
shone full upon the place, and by its light he
beheld his unknown serenading rival at the
feet of Inez. He was detaining her by the hand,
which he covered with kisses; but at sight of
Antonio he started up and half drew his sword,
while Inez, disengaged, fled back to the house.
All the jealous doubts and fears of Antonio
were now confirmed. He did not remain to encounter the resentment of his happy rival at
being thus interrupted, but turned from the
place in sudden wretchedness of heart. That
Inez should love another would have been
misery enough; but that she should be capable
of a dishonorable amour, shocked him to the
soul. The idea of deception in so young and
apparently artless a being, brought with it that
sudden distrust in human nature so sickening
to a youthful and ingenuous mind; but when
he thought of the kind, simple parent she was
deceiving, whose affections all centred in her,
he felt for a moment a sentiment of indignation, and almost of aversion.
He found the alchemist still seated in his
visionary contemplation of the moon. " Come
hither, my son," said he, with his usual enthusiasm, " come, read with me in this vast volume
of wisdom, thus nightly unfolded for our perusal. Wisely did the Chaldean sages affirm, that




Cbe Student of iaamaniaca


297


the heaven is as a mystic page, uttering speech
to those who can rightly understand; warning
them of good and evil, and instructing them in
the secret decrees of fate."
The student's heart ached for his venerable
master; and, for a moment, he felt the futility
of all his occult wisdom. "Alas! poor old
man!" thought he, "of what avails all thy
study?  Little dost thou dream, while busied
in airy speculations among the stars, what a
treason against thy happiness is going on under
thine eyes,-as it were, in thy very bosom!-Oh,
Inez! Inez! where shall we look for truth and
innocence; where shall we repose confidence in
woman, if even you can deceive?"
It was a trite apostrophe, such as every lover
makes when he finds his mistress not quite such
a goddess as he had painted her. With the student, however, it sprang from honest anguish of
heart. He returned to his lodgings in pitiable
confusion of mind. He now deplored theinfatuation which had led him on until his feelings were
so thoroughly engaged. He resolved to abandon
his pursuits at the tower, and trust to absence
to dispel the fascination by which he had been
spell-bound. He no longer thirsted after the discovery of the grand elixir: the dream of alchemy
was over; for without Inez, what was the value
of the philosopher's stone?




298        Uales from   mrving
He rose, after a sleepless night, with the determination of taking his leave of the alchemist,
and tearing himself from Granada. For several
days did he rise with the same resolution, and
every night saw him come back to his pillow to
repine at his want of resolution, and to make
fresh determinations for the morrow. In the
meanwhile he saw less of Inez than ever. She
no longer walked in the garden, but remained
almost entirely in her apartment. When she
met him, she blushed more than usual; and
once hesitated, as if she would have spoken;
but after a temporary embarrassment, and still
deeper blushes, she made some casual observation, and retired. Antonio read, in this confusion, a consciousness of fault, and of that fault's
being discovered. "What could she have wished
to communicate? Perhaps to account for the
scene in the garden;-but how can she account
for it, or why should she account for it to me?
What am I to her?-or rather, what is she to
me?" exclaimed he, impatiently; with a new
resolution to break through these entanglements
of the heart, and fly from this enchanted spot
forever.
He was returning that very night to his lodgings, full of this excellent determination, when,
in a shadowy part of the road, he passed a person whom he recognized, by his height and form,




Cbe ~itubent of!ialamanca


299


for his rival: he was going in the direction of
the tower. If any lingering doubts remained,
here was an opportunity of settling them completely. He determined to follow this unknown
cavalier, and under favor of the darkness, observe his movements. If he obtained access to
the tower, or in any way a favorable reception,
Antonio felt as if it would be a relief to his mind,
and would enable him to fix his wavering resolution.
The unknown, as he came near the tower, was
more cautious and stealthy in his approaches.
He was joined under a clump of trees by another
person, and they had much whispering together.
A light was burning in the chamber of Inez, the
curtain was down, but the casement was left
open, as the night was warm. After some time
the light was extinguished. A considerable interval elapsed. The cavalier and his companion
remained under covert of the trees, as if keeping
watch. At length they approached the tower
with silent and cautious steps. The cavalier received a dark lantern from his companion, and
threw off his cloak. The other then softly
brought something from the clump of trees,
which Antonio perceived to be a light ladder:
he placed it against the wall, and the serenader
gently ascended. A sickening sensation came
over Antonio. Here was indeed a confirmation




300         taIes from  llrvino
of every fear. He was about to leave the place,
never to return, when he heard a stifled shriek
from Inez's chamber.
In an instant the fellow that stood at the foot
of the ladder lay prostrate on the ground. Antonio wrested a stiletto from his nerveless hand,
and hurried up the ladder. He sprang in at the
window, and found Inez struggling in the grasp
of his fancied rival: the latter, disturbed from
his prey, caught up his lantern, turned its light
full upon Antonio, and drawing his sword, made
a furious assault; luckily the student saw the
light gleam along the blade, and parried the
thrust with the stiletto. A fierce, but unequal
combat ensued. Antonio fought exposed to the
full glare of the light, while his antagonist was
in shadow: his stiletto, too, was but a poor defence against a rapier. He saw that nothing
would save him but closing with his adversary
and getting within his weapon: he rushed furiously upon him, and gave him a severe blow with
the stiletto; but received a wound in return from
the shortened sword. At the same moment a
blow was inflicted from behind, by the confederate, who had ascended the ladder; it felled him
to the floor, and his antagonists made their
escape.
By this time the cries of Inez had broughther
father and the domestic to the room. Antonio




Ube StuObnt of Salamanca       301
was found weltering in his blood, and senseless.
He was conveyed to the chamber of the alchemist, who now repaid in kind the attentions
which the student had once bestowed upon him.
Among his varied knowledge lie possessed some
skill in surgery, which at this moment was of
more value than even his chemical lore. He
stanched and dressed the wounds of his disciple,
which on examination proved less desperate
than he had at first apprehended. For a few
days, however, his case was anxious, and attended with danger. The old man watched over
him with the affection of a parent. He felt a
double debt of gratitude towards him on account
of his daughter and himself; he loved him too
as a faithful and zealous disciple; and he dreaded
lest the world should be deprived of the promising talents of so aspiring an alchemist.
An excellent constitution soon medicined his
wounds; and there was a balsam in the looks
and words of Inez, that had a healing effect on
the still severer wounds which lie carried in his
heart. She displayed the strongest interest in
his safety; she called him her deliverer, her preserver. It seemed as if her grateful disposition
sought, in the warmth of its acknowledgments,
to repay him for past coldness. But what most
contributed to Antonio's recovery, was her explanation concerning his supposed rival. It was




302        tiales from 1Irvino
some time since he had first beheld her at church,
and he had ever since persecuted her with his
attentions. He had beset her in her walks, until
she had been obliged to confine herself to the
house, except when accompanied by her father.
He had besieged her with letters, serenades, and
every art by which he could urge a vehement,
but clandestine and dishonorable suit. The
scene in the garden was as much of a surprise
to her as to Antonio. Her persecutor had been
attracted by her voice, and had found his way
over a ruined part of the wall. He had come
upon her unawares, was detaining her by force,
and pleading his insulting passion, when the
appearance of the student interrupted him, and
enabled her to make her escape. She had forborne to mention to her father the persecution
which she suffered; she wished to spare him
unavailing anxiety and distress, and had determined to confine herself more rigorously to the
house; though it appeared that even here she
had not been safe from his daring enterprise.
Antonio inquired whether she knew the name
of this impetuous admirer? She replied that
he had made his advances under a fictitious
name; but that she had heard him once called
by the name of Don Ambrosio de Loxa.
Antonio knew him, by report, for one of the
most determined and dangerous libertines in all




Ube Stubent of Salamanca       0o3
Granada.  Artful, accomplished, and, if he
chose to be so, insinuating; but daring and
headlong in the pursuit of his pleasures; violent and implacable in his resentments. He
rejoiced to find that Inez had been proof against
his seductions, and had been inspired with aversion by his splendid profligacy; but he trembled to think of the dangers she had run, and
he felt solicitude about the dangers that must
yet environ her.
At present, however, it was probable the enemy had a temporary quietus. The traces of
blood had been found for some distance from
the ladder, until they were lost among thickets;
and as nothing had been heard or seen of him
since, it was concluded that he had been seriously wounded.
As the student recovered from his wounds he
was enabled to join Inez and her father in their
domestic intercourse. The chamber in which
they usually met had probably been a saloon of
state in former times. The floor was of marble;
the walls were partially covered with remains of
tapestry; the chairs, richly carved and gilt,
were crazed with age, and covered with tarnished
and tattered brocade. Against the wall hung a
long, rusty rapier, the only relic that the old
man retained of the chivalry of his ancestors.
There might have been something to provoke a
Vol. II.-2o




304        Cales from Trving
smile in the contrast between the mansion and
its inhabitants, between present poverty and
the traces of departed grandeur; but the fancy
of the student had thrown so much romance
about the edifice and its inmates, that every
thing was clothed with charms. The philosopher, with his broken-down pride, and his
strange pursuits, seemed to comport with the
melancholy ruin he inhabited; and there was a
native elegance of spirit about the daughter
that showed she would have graced the mansion
in its happier days.
What delicious moments were these to the
student! Inez was no longer coy and reserved.
She was naturally artless and confiding; though
the kind of persecution she had experienced
from one admirer had rendered her, for a time,
suspicious and circumspect towards the other,
she now felt an entire confidence in the sincerity and worth of Antonio, mingled with an overflowing gratitude.  When her eyes met his,
they beamed with sympathy and kindness; and
Antonio, no longer haunted by the idea of a favored rival, once more aspired to success.
At these domestic meetings, however, he had
no opportunity of paying his court, except by
iooks.  The alchemist, supposing him, like
himself, absorbed in the study of alchemy, endeavored to cheer the tediousness of his recov



Zbe Stu~ent of Salamanca


305


ery by long conversations on the art. He even
brought several of his half-burnt volumes,
which the student had once rescued from the
flames, and rewarded him for their preservation
by reading copious passages. He would entertain him with the great and good acts of Flamel,
which he effected through means of the philosopher's stone, relieving widows and orphans,
founding hospitals, building churches, and
what not; or with the interrogatories of King
Kalid, and the answers of Morienus, the Roman hermit of Hierusalem; or the profound
questions which Elardus, a necromancer of the
province of Catalonia, put to the devil, touching the secrets of alchemy, and the devil's replies.
All these were couched in occult language,
almost unintelligible to the unpractised ear of
the disciple. Indeed, the old man delighted in
the mystic phrases and symbolical jargon in
which the writers that have treated of alchemy
have wrapped their communications, rendering
them incomprehensible except to the initiated.
With what rapture would he elevate his voice at
a triumphant passage, announcing the grand
discovery!  "Thou shalt see," would he exclaim, in the words of Henry Kuhnrade,* " the
stone of the philosophers (our king) go forth of
*" Amphitheatre of the Eternal Wisdom."




306        'a[les trom ~Irving
the bedchamber of his glassy sepulchre into
the theatre of this world; that is to say, regenerated and made perfect, a shining carbuncle, a
most temperate splendor, whose most subtle
and dephurated parts are inseparable, united
into one with a concordial mixture, exceeding
equal, transparent as crystal, shining red like a
ruby, permanently coloring or ringing, fixt in
all temptations or trials; yea, in the examination of the burning sulphur itself, and the
devouring waters, and in the most vehement
persecution of the fire, always incombustible
and permanent as a salamander! "
The student had a high veneration for the
fathers of alchemy, and a profound respect for
his instructor; but what was Henry Kuhnrade,
Geber, Lully, or even Albertus Magnus himself,
compared to the countenance of Inez, which
presented such a page of beauty to his perusal?
While, therefore, the good alchemist was doling
out knowledge by the hour, his disciple would
forget books, alchemy, every thing but the
lovely object before him. Inez, too, unpractised in the science of the heart, was gradually
becoming fascinated by the silent attentions of
her lover. Day by day she seemed more and
more perplexed by the kindling and strangely
pleasing emotions of her bosom. Her eye was
often cast down in thought. Blushes stole to




Ube!ituecnt of ialamanca     307
her cheek without any apparent cause, and
light, half-suppressed sighs would follow these
short fits of musing. Her little ballads, though
the same that she had always sung, yet breathed
a more tender spirit. Either the tones of her
voice were more soft and touching, or some
passages were delivered with a feeling which
she had never before given them. Antonio,
beside his love for the abstruse sciences, had a
pretty turn for music; and never did philosopher touch the guitar more tastefully. As, by
degrees, he conquered the mutual embarrassment that kept them asunder, he ventured to
accompany Inez in some of her songs. He had
a voice full of fire and tenderness; as he sang,
one would have thought, from the kindling
blushes of his companion, that he had been
pleading his own passion in her ear. Let those
who would keep two youthful hearts asunder
beware of music. Oh! this leaning over chairs,
and conning the same music-cook, and entwining of voices, and melting away in harmonies!
-the German waltz is nothing to it.
The worthy alchemist saw nothing of all this.
His mind could admit of no idea that was not
connected with the discovery of the grand arcanum, and he supposed his youthful coadjutor
equally devoted. He was a mere child as to
human nature; and as to the passion of love,




308


tales from Irving


whatever he might once have felt of it, he had
long since forgotten that there was such an idle
passion in existence. But, while he dreamed,
the silent amour went on. The very quiet and
seclusion of the place were favorable to the
growth of romantic passion. The opening bud
of love was able to put forth leaf by leaf, without an adverse wind to check its growth. There
was neither officious friendship to chill by its
advice, nor insidious envy to wither by its
sneers, nor an observing world to look on and
stare it out of countenance. There was neither
declaration, nor vow, nor any other form of
Cupid's canting school. Their hearts mingled
together, and understood each other without the
aid of language. They lapsed into the full current of affection, unconscious of its depth, and
thoughtless of the rocks that might lurk beneath its surface.  Happy lovers! who wanted
nothing to make their felicity complete but the
discovery of the philosopher's stone.
At length Antonio's health was sufficiently
restored to enable him to return to his lodgings
in Granada. He felt uneasy, however, at leaving the tower, while lurking danger might surround its almost defenceless inmates.  He
dreaded lest Don Ambrosio, recovered from his
wounds, might plot some new attempt, by secret
art or open violence. From all that he had




Cbe!Btubent of!alamanca


309


heard, he knew him to be too implacable to suffer his defeat to pass unavenged, and too rash
and fearless, when his arts were unavailing, to
stop at any daring deed in the accomplishment
of his purposes. He urged his apprehensions
to the alchemist and his daughter, and proposed
that they should abandon the dangerous vicinity of Granada.
"I have relations," said he, "in Valencia,
poor indeed, but worthy and affectionate.
Among them you will find friendship and
quiet, and we may there pursue our labors unmolested." He went on to paint the beauties
and delights of Valencia with all the fondness
of a native, and all the eloquence with which a
lover paints the fields and groves which he is
picturing as the future scenes of his happiness.
His eloquence, backed by the apprehensions of
Inez, was successful with the alchemist, who,
indeed, had led too unsettled a life to be particular about the place of his residence; and it
was determined that, as soon as Antonio's
health was perfectly restored, they should
abandon the tower, and seek the delicious
neighborhood of Valencia.*
* Here are the strongest silks, the sweetest wines, the
excellent'st almonds, the best oyls and beautifull'st females of all Spain. The very bruit animals make themselves beds of rosemary, and other fragrant flowers hereabouts; and when one is at sea, if the winde blow from
the shore, he may smell his soyl before he come in sight




310          Walce trom   Ircing
To recruit his strength, the student suspended
his toils in the laboratory, and spent the few remaining days, before departure, in taking a
farewell look at the enchanting environs of
Granada. He felt returning health and vigor
as he inhaled the pure temperate breezes that
play about its hills; and the happy state of his
mind contributed to his rapid recovery. Inez
was often the companion of his walks. Her
descent, by the mother's side, from one of the
ancient Moorish families gave her an interest
in this once favorite seat of Arabian power.
She gazed with enthusiasm upon its magnificent
monuments, and her memory was filled with
the traditional tales and ballads of Moorish
chivalry. Indeed, the solitary life she had led,
and the visionary turn of her father's mind, had(
produced an effect upon her character, and
given it a tinge of what, in modern days, would
be termed romance. All this was called into
full force by this new passion; for, when a
woman first begins to love, life is all romance
to her.
In one of their evening strolls, they had asof it many leagues off, by the strong oderiferous scent it
casts. As it is the most pleasant, so it is also the temperat'st clime of all Spain, and they commonly call it the
second Italy, which made the Moors, whereof many
thousands were disterr'd and banish'd hence to Barbary
to think that Paradise was in that part of the heavens
which hung over this citie.-HOWELL'S LETTERS.




Cbe itubent of Ialamanca       311
cenddc to the mountain of the Sun, where is
situated the Generaliffe, the palace of pleasure
in the days of Moorish dominion, but now a
gloomy convent of capuchins. They had wandered about its garden, among groves of orange,
citron, and cypress, where the waters, leaping
in torrents, or gushing in fountains, or tossed
aloft in sparkling jets, fill the air with music
and freshness. There is a melancholy mingled
with all the beauties of this garden, that gradually stole over the feelings of the lovers. The
place is full of the sad story of past times. It
was the favorite abode of the lovely queen of
Granada, where she was surrounded by the
delights of a gay and voluptuous court. It was
here, too, amidst her own bowers of roses, that
her slanderers laid the base story of her dishonor, and struck a fatal blow to the line of the
gallant Abencerrages.
The whole garden has a look of ruin and neglect. Many of the fountains are dry and broken; the streams have wandered from their
marble channels, and are choked by weeds and
yellow leaves. The reed whistles to the wind
where it had once sported among roses, and
shaken perfume from the orange-blossom. The
convent-bell flings its sullen sound, or the
drowsy vesper hymn floats along these solitudes, which once resounded with the song




312        tales from 11rvifn
and the dance and the lover's serenade. Well
may the Moors lament over the loss of this
earthly paradise; well may they remember it in
their prayers, and beseech Heaven to restore it
to the faithful; well may their ambassadors
smite their breasts when they behold these
monuments of their race, and sit down and
weep among the fading glories of Granada!
It is impossible to wander about these scenes
of departed love and gayety, and not feel the
tenderness of the heart awakened. It was then
that Antonio first ventured to breathe his passion, and to express by words what his eyes had
long since so eloquently revealed. He made
his avowal with fervor, but with frankness. He
had no gay prospects to hold out; he was a poor
scholar, dependent on his "good spirits to feed
and clothe him." But a woman in love is no
interested calculator. Inez listened to him with
downcast eyes, but in them was a humid gleam
that showed her heart was with him. She had
no prudery in her nature; and she had not been
sufficiently in society to acquire it. She loved
him with all the absence of worldliness of a
genuine woman, and, amidst timid smiles and
blushes, he drew from her a modest acknowledgment of her affection.
They wandered about the garden with that
sweet intoxication of the soul which none but




Zbe Stubent of Salamanca        313
happy lovers know. The world about them
was all fairy-land; and, indeed, it spread forth
one of its fairest scenes before their eyes, as if
to fulfil their dream of earthly happiness.
They looked out from between groves of orange
upon the towers of Granada below them;
the magnificent plain of the Vega beyond,
streaked with evening sunshine, and the distant
hills tinted with rosy and purple hues; it seemed
an emblem of the happy future that love and
hope were decking out for them.
As if to make the scene complete, a group of
Andalusians struck up a dance, in one of the
vistas of the garden, to the guitars of two wandering musicians. The Spanish music is wild
and plaintive, yet the people dance to it with
spirit and enthusiasm. The picturesque figures
of the dances, the girls with their hair in silken
nets that hung in knots and tassels down their
backs, their mantillas floating round their
graceful forms, their slender feet peeping from
under their basquinas, their arms tossed up in
the air to play the castanets, had a beautiful
effect on this airy height, with the rich evening
landscape spreading out below them.
When the dance was ended, two of the parties approached Antonio and Inez; one of them
began a soft and tender Moorish ballad, accompanied by the other on the lute. It alluded to




314         tale tfrotm Irving
the story of the garden, the wrongs of the fair
queen of Granada, and the misfortunes of the
Abencerrages. It was one of those old ballads
that abound in this part of Spain, and live, like
echoes, about the ruins of Moorish greatness.
The heart of Inez was at that moment open to
every tender impression; the tears rose into her
eyes as she listened to the tale. The singer approached nearer to her; she was striking in her
appearance; young, beautiful, with a mixture
of wildness and melancholy in her fine black
eyes. She fixed them mournfully and expressively on Inez, and suddenly varying her manner, sang another ballad, which treated of impending danger and treachery. All this might
have passed for a mere accidental caprice of the
singer, had there not been something in her
look, manner, and gesticulation that made it
pointed and startling.
Inez was about to ask the meaning of this
evidently personal application of the song, when
she was interrupted by Antonio, who gently
drew her from the place. Whilst she had been
lost in attention to the music, he had remarked
a group of men, in the shadows of the trees,
whispering together. They were enveloped in
the broad hats and great cloaks so much worn
by the Spanish, and while they were regarding
himself and Inez attentively, seemed anxious to




Abe ottuoent of 5alarnanca    315
avoid observation. Not knowing what might
be their character or intention, he hastened to
quit a place where the gathering shadows of
evening might expose them to intrusion and
insult. On their way down the hill, as they
passed through the wood of elms, mingled with
poplars and oleanders that skirts the road
leading from the Alhambra, he again saw these
men, apparently following at a distance; and
he afterwards caught sight of them among the
trees on the banks of the Darro. He said nothing on the subject to Inez, nor her father, for
he would not awaken unnecessary alarm; but
he felt at a loss how to ascertain or to avert any
machinations that might be devising against
the helpless inhabitants of the tower.
He took his leave of them late at night, full
of this perplexity. As he left the dreary old
pile, he saw some one lurking in the shadow of
the wall, apparently watching his movements.
He hastened after the figure, but it glided
away, and disappeared among some ruins.
Shortly after he heard a lowe whistle, which was
answered from a little distance. He had no
longer a doubt but that some mischief was
on foot, and turned to hasten back to the tower,
and put its inmates on their guard. He had
scarcely turned, however, before he found himself suddenly seized from behind by some one




316        Cales from 1rvitng
of Herculean strength. His struggles were in
vain; he was surrounded by armed men. One
threw a mantle over him that stifled his cries,
and enveloped him in its folds, and he was hurried off with irresistible rapidity.
The next day passed without the appearance
of Antonio at the alchemist's. Another, and
another day succeeded, and yet he did not come;
nor had any thing been heard of him at his lodgings. His absence caused, at first, surprise and
conjecture, and at length alarm. Inez recollected
the singular intimations of the ballad-singer
upon the mountain, which seemed to warn her
of impending danger, and her mind was full of
vague forebodings. She sat listening to every
sound at the gate, or footstep on the stairs. She
would take up her guitar and strike a few notes,
but it would not do; her heart was sickening
with suspense and anxiety. She had never before felt what it was to be really lonely. She now
was conscious of the force of that attachment
which had taken possession of her breast; for
never do we know how much we love, never do
we know how necessary the object of our love
is to our happiness, until we experience the
weary void of separation.
The philosopher, too, felt the absence of his
disciple, almost as sensibly as did his daughter.
The animating buoyancy of the youth had in



abe Stubent of Salamanca


317


spired him with new ardor, and had given to his
labors the charm of full companionship. However, he had resources and consolations of which
his daughter was destitute. His pursuits were
of a nature to occupy every thought, and keep
the spirits in a state of continual excitement.
Certain indications, too, had lately manifested
themselves, of the most favorable nature. Forty
days and forty nights had the process gone on
successfully; the old man's hopes were constantly
rising, and he now considered the glorious moment once more at hand, when he should obtain
not merely the major lunaria, but likewise the
tinctura solaris, the means of multiplying gold,
and of prolonging existence. He remained,
therefore, continually shut up in his laboratory,
watching his furnace; for a moment's inadvertency might once more defeat all his expectations.
He was sitting one evening at one of his solitary vigils, wrapped up in meditation; the hour
was late, and his neighbor, the owl, was hooting
from the battlement of the tower, when he heard
the door open behind him. Supposing it to be
his daughter coming to take her leave of him
for the night, as was her frequent practice, he
called her by name, but a harsh voice met his
ear in reply. He was grasped by the arms, and
looking up, perceived three strange men in the




3I8        'ates from 1Irringj
chamber. He attempted to shake them off, but
in vain. He called for help, but they scoffed at
his cries.
"Peace, dotard!" cried one, " think'st thou
the servants of the most holy inquisition are to
be daunted by thy clamors? Comrades, away
with him! "
Without heeding his remonstrances and en.
treaties, they seized upon his books and papers.
took some note of the apartment, and the utensils, and then bore him off a prisoner.
Inez, lefttoherself, had passed a sad and lonely
evening; seated by a casement which looked into
the garden, she had pensively watched star after
star sparkle out of the blue depths of the sky,
and was indulging a crowd of anxious thoughts
about her lover, until the rising tears began to
flow. "he was suddenly alarmed by the sound
of voices that seemed to come from a distant
part of the mansion. There was not long after
a noise of several persons descending the stairs.
Surprised at these unusual sounds in their lonely
habitation, she remained for a few moments in a
state of trembling yet indistinct apprehension,
when the servant rushed into the room, with terror in her countenance, and informed her that
her father was carried off by armed men.
Inez did not stop to hear further, but flew
down-stairs to overtake them. She had scarcely




Cbe Stubent of ~Baiamanca


319


passed the threshold when she found herself in
the grasp of strangers. "Away! away! " cried
she, wildly; " do not stop me-let me follow my
father."
"We come to conduct you to him, sefiora,"
said one of the men, respectfully.
"Where is he then?"
"He is gone to Granada," replied the man:
" an unexpected circumstance requires his presence there immediately; but he is among
friends."
"We have no friends in Granada," said Inez,
drawing back. But then the idea of Antonio
rushed into her mind; something relating to him
might have called her father thither. " Is Sefnor
Antonio de Castros with him? " demanded she,
with agitation.
" I know not, senfora," replied the man. "It
is very possible. I only know that your father
is among friends, and is anxious for you to follow
him."
"Let us go then," cried she, eagerly. The
man led her a little distance to where a mule
was waiting, and assisting her to mount, they
conducted her slowly towards the city.
Granada was on that evening a scene of fanciful revel. It was one of the festivals of the
Maestranza, an association of the nobility to keep
up some of the gallant customs of ancient chiv'ol. II.-21




320        vales from  rrving
airy. There had been a representation of a
tournament in one of the squares; the streets
would still occasionally resound with the beat
of a solitary drum, or the bray of a trumpet,
from some straggling party of revellers. Sometimes they were met by cavaliers, richly dressed
in ancient costumes, attended by their squires;
and at one time they passed in sight of a palace
brilliantly illuminated, whence came the mingled sound of music and the dance. Shortly after
they came to the square, where the mock tournament had been held. It was thronged by the
populace, recreating themselves among booths
and stalls where refreshments were sold, and the
glare of torches showed the temporary galleries,
and gay-colored awnings, and armorial trophies,
and other paraphernalia of the show. The conductors of Inez endeavored to keep out of observation, and to traverse a gloomy part of the
square; but they were detained at one place by
the pressure of a crowd surrounding a party of
wandering musicians, singing one of those ballads of which the Spanish populace are so passionately fond. The torches which were held by
some of the crowd, threw a strong mass of light
upon Inez, and the sight of so beautiful a being,
without mantilla or veil, looking so bewildered,
and conducted by men who seemed to take no
gratification in the surrounding gayety, occa



Ube Stutbent of Salamanca


321


sioned expressions of curiosity.  One of the
ballad-singers approached, and striking her
guitar with peculiar earnestness, began to sing
a doleful air, full of sinister forebodings. Inez
started with surprise. It was the same balladsinger that had addressed her in the garden of
Generaliffe. It was the same air that she had
then sung. It spoke of impending dangers;
they seemed, indeed, to be thickening around
her. She was anxious to speak with the girl,
and to ascertain whether she really had a knowledge of any definite evil that was threatening
her; but as she attempted to address her, the
mule on which she rode was suddenly seized and
led forcibly through the throng by one of her
conductors, while she saw another addressing
menacing words to the ballad-singer.  The
latter raised her hand with a warning gesture as
Inez lost sight of her.
While she was yet lost in perplexity, caused
by this singular occurrence, they stopped at the
gate of a large mansion. One of her attendants
knocked, the door was opened, and they entered
a paved court. "Where are we "? demanded
Inez, with anxiety. " At the house of a friend,
sefora, " replied the man. " Ascend this staircase with me, and in a moment you will meet
your father. "
They ascended a staircase that led to a suite of




322        Cales froim rvimng
splendid apartments. They passed through several until they came to an inner chamber. The
door opened; some one approached; but what
was her terror on perceiving, not her father,
but Don Ambrosio!
The men who had seized upon the alchemist
had, at least, been more honest in their professions. They were, indeed, familiars of the inquisition. He was conducted in silence to the
gloomy prison of that horrible tribunal. It was
a mansion whose very aspect withered joy, and
almost shut out hope. It was one of those hideous abodes which the bad passions of men
conjure up in this fair world to rival the fancied
dens of demons and the accursed.
Day after day went heavily by without any
thing to mark the lapse of time but the decline
and reappearance of the light that feebly glimmered through the narrowed window of the
dungeon in which the unfortunate alchemist
was buried rather than confined. His mind was
harassed with uncertainties and fears about his
daughter, so helpless and inexperienced. He
endeavored to gather tidings of her from the
man who brought his daily portion of food.
The fellow stared as if astonished at being
asked a question in that mansion of silence and
mystery, but departed without saying a word.
Every succeeding attempt was equally fruitless.




Ube!Btudent of Salaanlanca   323
The poor alchemist was oppressed with many
griefs, and it was not the least that he had been
again interrupted in his labors on the very point
of success. Never was alchemist so near attaining the golden secret; a little longer and all
his hopes would have been realized.  The
thoughts of these disappointments afflicted him
more than even the fear of all that he might
suffer from the merciless inquisition. His waking thoughts would follow him into his dreams.
He would be transported in fancy to his laboratory, busied again among retorts and alembics,
and surrounded by Lully, by D'Abano, by Olybius, and the other masters of the sublime art.
The moment of projection would arrive; a
seraphic form would arise out of the furnace,
holding forth a vessel containing the precious
elixir; but before he could grasp the prize he
would awake, and find himself in a dungeon.
All the devices of inquisitorial ingenuity were
employed to ensnare the old man and to draw
from  him  evidence that might be brought
against himself, and might corroborate certain
secret information given against him. He had
been accused of practising necromancy and judicial astrology, and a cloud of evidence had
been secretly brought forward to substantiate
the charge. It would be tedious to enumerate
all the circumstances, apparently corroborative,




324        Waled from    rrving
which bad been industriously cited by the secret
accuser. The silence which prevailed about the
tower, its desolateness, the very quiet of its
inhabitants, had been adduced as proofs that
something sinister was perpetrated within. The
alchemist's conversations and soliloquies in
the garden had been overheard and misrepresented. The lights and strange appearances
at night in the tower were given with violent
exaggerations. Shrieks and yells were said to
have been heard thence at midnight, when it
was confidently asserted the old man raised
familiar spirits by his incantations, and even
compelled the dead to rise from their graves
and answer to his questions.
The alchemist, according to the custom of
the inquisition, was kept in complete ignorance
of his accuser; of the witnesses produced
against him; even of the crimes of which he
was accused.  He was examined generally,
whether he knew why he was arrested, and was
conscious of any guilt that might deserve the
notice of the holy office? He was examined as
to his country, his life, his habits, his pursuits,
his actions, and opinions. The old man was
frank and simple in his replies; he was conscious of no guilt, capable of no art, practised
in no dissimulation. After receiving a general
admonition to bethink himself whether he had




~be!tuOent of ialamanca      325
not committed any act deserving of punishment, and to prepare, by confession, to secure
the well-known mercy of the tribunal, he was
remanded to his cell.
He was now visited in his dungeon by crafty
familiars of the inquisition, who, under pretence
of sympathy and kindness, came to beguile the
tediousness of his imprisonment with friendly
conversation.  They casually introduced the
subject of alchemy, on which they touched
with great caution and pretended indifference.
There was no need of such craftiness. The
honest enthusiast had no suspicion in his
nature; the moment they touched upon his
favorite theme he forgot his misfortunes and
imprisonment, and broke forth into rhapsodies
about the divine science.
The conversation was artfully turned to the
discussion of elementary beings. The alchemist
readily allowed his belief in them; and that
there had been instances of their attending
upon philosophers, and administering to their
wishes.  He related many miracles said to
have been performed by Apollonius Thyaneus,
through the aid of spirits or demons; insomuch
that he was set up by the heathens in opposition
to the Messiah; and was even regarded with
reverence by many Christians. The familiars
eagerly demanded whether he believed Apollo



326         'ales from 11rving
nius to be a true and worthy philosopher. The
unaffected piety of the alchemist protected him
even in the midst of his simplicity; for he condemned Apollonius as a sorcerer and an impostor. No art could draw from him an admission
that he had ever employed or invoked spiritual
agencies in the prosecution of his pursuits,
though he believed himself to have been frequently impeded by their invisible interference.
The inquisitors were sorely vexed at not being able to inveigle him into a confession of a
criminal nature; they attributed their failure to
craft, to obstinacy, to every cause but the right
one, namely, that the harmless visionary had
nothing guilty to confess. They had abundant
proof of a secret nature against him; but it was
the practice of the inquisition to endeavor to
procure confession from  the prisoners.  An
auto da ft was at hand; the worthy fathers
were eager for his conviction, for they were
always anxious to have a good number of culprits condemned to the stake, to grace these
solemn triumphs. He was at length brought
to a final examination.
The chamber of trial was spacious and gloomy.
At one end was a huge crucifix, the standard of
the inquisition. A long table extended through
the centre of the room, at which sat the inquisi



be tStuoenlt of alamainaca    327
tors and their secretary; at the other end a stool
was placed for the prisoner.
He was brought in, according to custom, bareheaded and bare-legged. He was enfeebled by
confinement and affliction; by constantly brooding over the unknown fate of his child, and the
disastrous interruption of his experiments. He
sat bowed down and listless; his head sunk upon
his breast; his whole appearance that of one
"past hope, abandoned, and by himself given
over."
The accusation alleged against him was now
brought forward in a specific form; he was
called upon by name, Felix des Vasquez, formerly of Castile, to answer to the charges of
necromancy and demonology.   He was told
that the charges were amply substantiated; and
was asked whether he was ready, by full confession, to throw himself upon the well-known
mercy of the holy inquisition.
The philosopher testified some little surprise
at the nature of the accusation, but simply replied, "I am innocent."
" WUhat proof have you to give of your innocence? "
"It rather remains for you to prove your
charges," said the old man. "I am a stranger
and a sojourner in the land, and know no one
out of the doors of my dwelling. I can give




328        'al[es from 1rvinf
nothing in my vindication but the word of a
nobleman and a Castilian."
The inquisitor shook his head, and went on
to repeat the various inquiries that had before
been made as to his mode of life and pursuits.
The poor alchemist was too feeble and too
weary at heart to make any but brief replies.
He requested that some man of science might
examine his laboratory, and all his books and
papers, by which it would be made abundantly
evident that he was merely engaged in the study
of alchemy.
To this the inquisitor observed, that alchemy
had become a mere covert for secret and deadly
sins. That the practisers of it were apt to scruple at no means to satisfy their inordinate greediness of gold. Some had been known to use
spells and impious ceremonies; to conjure the
aid of evil spirits; nay, even to sell their souls
to the enemy of mankind, so that they might
riot in boundless wealth while living.
The poor alchemist had heard all patiently,
or, at least, passively. He had disdained to
vindicate his name otherwise than by Lis -word;
he had smiled at the accusations of sorcery,
when applied merely to himself; but when the
sublime art which had been the study and passion of his life, was assailed, he could no longer
listen in silence. His head gradually rose from




Zbe Stutent of Salamanca


329


his bosom; a hectic color came in faint streaks
to his cheeks, played about there, disappeared,
returned, and at length kindled into a burning
glow. The clammy dampness dried from his
forehead; his eyes, which had been nearly extinguished, lighted up again, and burned with
their wonted and visionary fires. He entered
into a vindication of his favorite art. His voice
at first was feeble and broken; but it gathered
strength as he proceeded, until it rolled in a
deep and sonorous volume. He gradually rose
from his seat as he rose with his subject; he
threw back the scanty black mantle which had
hitherto wrapped his limbs; the very uncouthness of his form and looks gave an impressive
effect to what he uttered; it was as though a
corpse had become suddenly animated.
He repelled with scorn the aspersions cast
upon alchemy by the ignorant and vulgar. He
affirmed it to be the mother of all art and science, citing the opinions of Paracelsus, Sandivogius, Raymond Lully, and others, in support
of his assertions.  He maintained that it was
pure and innocent, and honorable both in its
purposes and means. What were its objects?
The perpetuation of life and youth, and the
production of gold. "The elixir vita," said
he, "is no charmed potion, but merely a concentration of those elements of vitality which




330         Wales frontm trving
nature has scattered through her works. The
philosopher's stone, or tincture, or powder, as
it is variously called, is no necromantic talisman, but consists simply of those particles
which gold contains within itself for its reproduction; for gold, like other things, has its
seed within itself, though bound up with inconceivable firmness, from the vigor of innate
fixed salts and sulphurs.  In seeking to discover the elixir of life, then," continued he,
"we seek only to imply some of nature's own
specifics against the disease and decay to which
our bodies are subjected; and what else does
the physician, when he tasks his art, and uses
subtle compounds and cunning distillations to
revive our languishing powers, and avert the
stroke of death for a season?
"In seeking to multiply the precious metals,
also, we seek but to germinate and multiply, by
natural means, a particular species of nature's
productions; and what else does the husbandman, who consults times and seasons, and, by
what might be deemed a natural magic, from
the mere scattering of his hand, covers a whole
plain with golden vegetation? The mysteries
of our art, it is true, are deeply and darkly hidden; but it requires so much the more innocence and purity of thought to penetrate unto
them. No, father, the true alchemist must be




~be itudent or Salamanca       331
pure in mind and body; he must be temperate,
patient, chaste, watchful, meek, humble, devout.
'My son,' says Hermes Trismegestes, the great
master of our art, ' my son, I recommend you
above all things to fear God.' And indeed it is
only by devout castigation of the senses and
purification of the soul, that the alchemist is
enabled to enter into the sacred chambers of
truth. 'Labor, pray, and read,' is the motto of
our science. As De Nuysement well observes,
'these high and singular favors are granted
unto none save only unto the sons of God, (that
is to say, the virtuous and devout) who, under
his paternal benediction, have obtained the
opening of the same, by the helping hand of
the queen of arts, divine Philosophy.' Indeed,
so sacred has the nature of this knowledge been
considered, that we are told it has four times
been expressly communicated by God to man,
having made a part of that cabalistical wisdom
which was revealed to Adam to console him for
the loss of Paradise, to Moses in the bush, to
Solomon in a dream, and to Esdras by the
angel.
" So far from demons and malign spirits being
ILe friends and abettors of the alchemist, they
are the continual foes with which he has to contend. It is their constant endeavor to shut up
the avenues to those truths which would enable




332         tales from Irving
him to rise above the abject state into which he
has fallen, and return to that excellence which
was his original birthright. For what would be
the effect of this length of days, and this abundant wealth, but to enable the possessor to go
on from art tc art, from science to science, with
energies unimpaired by sickness, uninterrupted
by death? For this have sages and philosophers shut themselves up in cells and solitudes; buried themselves in caves and dens of
the earth; turning from the joys of life, and the
pleasance of the world; enduring scorn, poverty, persecution. For this was Raymond Lully
stoned to death in Mauritania. For this did the
immortal Pietro D'Abano suffer persecution at
Padua, and when he escaped from his oppressors by death, was despitefully burnt in effigy.
For this have illustrious men of all nations intrepidly suffered martyrdom. For this, if unmolested, have they assiduously employed the
latest hour of life, the expiring throb of existence, hoping to the last that they might yet
seize upon the prize for which they had struggled, and pluck themselves back even from the
very jaws of the grave.
" For, when once the alchemist shall have attained the object of his toils, when the sublime
secret shall be revealed to his gaze. how glorious
will be the change in his condition! How will




Cbe Stu~cnt-of Salamanca   33


333


he emerge from his solitary retreat, like the sun
breaking forth from the darksome chamber of
the night, and darting his beams throughout
the earth! Gifted with perpetual youth and
boundless riches, to what heights of wisdom
may he attain! How may he carry on, uninterrupted, the thread of knowledge which has
hitherto been snapped at the death of each
philosopher! And, as the increase of wisdom
is the increase of virtue, how may he become
the benefactor of his fellow-men; dispensing
with liberal, but cautious and discriminating
hand, that inexhaustible wealth which is at his
disposal; banishing poverty, which is the cause
of so much sorrow and wickedness; encouraging the arts; promoting discoveries, and enlarging all the means of virtuous enjoyment! His
life will be the connecting band of generations.
History will live in his recollection; distant
ages will speak with his tongue. The nations
of the earth will look to him as their preceptor,
and kings will sit at his feet and learn wisdom.
Oh glorious! oh celestial alchemy! "
Here he was interrupted by the inquisitor,
who had suffered him to go on thus far, in
hopes of gathering something from his unguarded enthusiasm. "Sefior," said he, "this
is all rambling, visionary talk. You are charged
with sorcery, and in defence you give us a




334        Cale{  fronm 1rving
rhapsody about alchemy. Have you nothing
better than this to offer in your defence? "
The old man slowly resumed his seat, but did
not deign a reply. The fire that had beamed in
his eye gradually expired. His cheek resumed
its wonted paleness; but he did not relapse into
inanity. He sat with a steady, serene, patient
look, like one prepared not to contend but to
suffer.
His trial continued for a long time with cruel
mockery of justice, for no witnesses were ever,
in this court, confronted with the accused, and
the latter had continually to defend himself in
the dark. Some unknown and powerful enemy
had alleged charges against the unfortunate
alchemist, but who he could not imagine.
Stranger and sojourner as he was in the land,
solitary and harmless in his pursuits, how could
he have provoked such hostility? The tide of
secret testimony, however, was too strong
against him; he was convicted of the crime of
magic, and condemned to expiate his sins at the
stake, at the approaching auto daft.
While the uuhappy alchemist was undergoing
his trial at the inquisition, his daughter was exposed to trials no less severe. Don Ambrosio,
into whose hands she had fallen, was; as has before been intimated, one of the most daring and
lawless profligates in all Granada. He was a




Ube Stubent of Salamanca      335
man of hot blood and fiery passions, who
stopped at nothing in the gratification of his
desires; yet with all this he possessed manners,
address, and accomplishments, that had made
him eminently successful among the sex. From
the palace to the cottage he had extended his
amorous enterprises; his serenades harassed
the slumbers of half the husbands in Granada;
no balcoAy was two high for his adventurous
attempts; nor any cottage too lowly for his perfidious seductions. Yet he was as fickle as he
was ardent; success had made him vain and
capricious; he had no sentiment to attach him
to the victim of his arts; and many a pale
cheek and fading eye, languishing amidst the
sparkling of jewels, and many a breaking heart,
throbbing under the rustic bodice, bore testimony to his triumphs and his faithlessness.
He was sated, however, by easy conquests, and
wearied of a life of continual and prompt gratification. There had been a degree of difficulty
and enterprise in the pursuit of Inez that he had
never before experienced. It had aroused him
from the monotony of mere sensual life, and
stimulated him with the charm of adventure.
He had become an epicure, in pleasure, and
now that he had this coy beauty in his power
he was determined to protract his enjoyment
by the gradual conquest of her scruples and
Vol. IT.-32




336         UaIeof from Irving
downfall of her virtue.  He was vain of his
person and address, which he thought no
woman could long withstand, and it was a kind
of trial of skill to endeavor to gain by art and
fascination what he was secure of obtaining at
any time by violence.
When Inez, therefore, was brought to his
presence by his emissaries he affected not to
notice her terror and surprise, but received her
with formal and stately courtesy. He was too
wary a fowler to flutter the bird when just
entangled in the net.  To her eager and wild
inquiries about her father, he begged her not
to be alarmed; that he was safe, and had been
there, but was engaged elsewhere in an affair
of moment, from which he would soon return.
In the meantime he had left word that she
should await his return in patience. After
some stately expressions of general civility,
Don Ambrosio made a ceremonious bow, and
retired.
The mind of Inez was full of trouble and
perplexity.  The stately formality of Don
Ambrosio was so unexpected as to check the
accusations and reproaches that were springing
to her lips. Had -he had evil designs, would
he have treated her with such frigid ceremony
when he had her in his power? But why,
then, was she brought to his house? Was




Cbe Student of Salamanca      337
the mysterious disappearance of Antonio connected with this? A thought suddenly darted
into her mind. Antonio had again met with
Don Ambrosio-they had fought-Antonio was
wounded-perhaps dying! It was him to whom
her father had gone. It was at his request that
Don Ambrosio had sent for them to soothe
his dying moments! These, and a thousand such
horrible suggestions harassed her mind; but
she tried in vain to get information from the
domestics; they knew nothing but that her
father had been there, had gone, and would
soon return.
Thus passed a night of tumultuous thought
and vague yet cruel apprehensions. She knew
not what to do, or what to believe; whether
she ought to fly, or to remain. But if to fly,
how was she to extricate herself? and where
was she to seek her father. As the day dawned
without any intelligence of him, her alarm increased.  At length a message was brought
from him, saying that circumstances prevented
his return to her, but begging her to hasten to
him without delay.
With an eager and throbbing heart did she set
forth with the men that were to conduct her.
She little thought, however, that she was
merely changing her prison-house. Don Ambiosio had feared lest she should be traced to




338         altes from  Irving
his residence in Granada, or that he might be
interrupted there before he could accomplish
his plan of seduction. He had her now conveyed, therefore, to a mansion which he possessed in one of the mountain solitudes in the
neighborhood of Granada, a lonely but beautiful retreat. In vain, on her arrival, did she
look around for her father, or Antonio. None
but strange faces met her eye; menials profoundly respectful, but -who knew nor saw any
thing but what their master pleased.
She had scarcely arrived before Don Ambrosio
made his appearance, less stately in manner,
but still treating her with the utmost delicacy
and deference. Inez was too much agitated and
alarmed to be baffled by his courtesy, and became vehement in her demand to be conducted
to her father.
Don Ambrosio now put on an appearance of
the greatest embarrassment and emotion. After
some delay, and much pretended confusion, he
at length confessed that the seizure of her father
was all a stratagem; a mere false alarm to procure him the present opportunity of having access to her, and in endeavoring to mitigate that
obduracy, and conquer that repugnance, which
he declared had almost driven him to distraction.
He assured her that her father was again at




Ube Student of Salamanca      339
home in safety, and occupied in his usual pursuits, having been fully satisfied that his daughter was in honorable hands, and would soon be
restored to him.  In vain she threw herself at
his feet, and implored to be set at liberty. He
only replied by gentle entreaties, that she would
pardon the seeming violence he had to use, and
that she would trust a little while to his honor.
" You are here,' said he, "absolute mistress of
every thing; nothing shall be said or done to
offend you; I will not even intrude upon your
ear the unhappy passion that is devouring my
heart. Should you require it, I will even absent
myself from your presence; but to part with
you entirely at present, with your mind full of
doubts and resentments, would be worse than
death to me. No, beautiful Inez, you must first
know me a little better, and know my conduct,
that my passion for you is as delicate and respectful as it is vehement."
The assurance of her father's safety had relieved Inez from one cause of torturing anxiety
only to render her fears more violent on her
own account. Don Ambrosio, however, continued to treat her with artful deference, that insensibly lulled her apprehensions. It is true
she found herself a captive, but no advantage
appeared to be taken of her helplessness. She
soothed herself with the idea that a little while




340         rales from I rvin0
would suffice to convince Don Ambrosio of the
fallacy of his hopes, and that he would be induced to restore her to her home. Her transports of terror and affliction, therefore, subsided, in a few days, into a passive, yet anxious
melancholy, with which she awaited the hopedfor event.
In the meanwhile all those artifices were
employed that are calculated to charm the
senses, ensnare the feelings, and dissolve the
heart into tenderness. Don Ambrosio was a
master of the subtle arts of seduction. His
very mansion breathed an enervating atmosphere of languor and delight. It was here,
amidst twilight saloons and dreamy chambers,
buried among groves of orange and myrtle, that
he shut himself up at times from the prying
world, and gave free scope to the gratification
of his pleasures.
The apartments were furnished in the most
sumptuous and voluptuous manner; the silken
couches swelled to the touch, and sank in
downy softness beneath the slightest pressure.
The paintings and statues all told some classic
tale of love, managed, however, with an insidious delicacy, which, while it banished the
grossness that might disgust, was the more calculated to excite the imagination. There the
blooming Adonis was seen, not breaking away




Ube Stubent of Salamanca      341
to pursue the boisterous chase, but crowned
with flowers, and languishing in the embraces
of celestial beauty. There Acis wooed his
Galatea in the shade, with the Sicilian sea
spreading in halcyon serenity before them.
There were depicted groups of fauns and dryads, fondly reclining in summer bowers, and
listening to the liquid piping of the reed; or
the wanton satyrs surprising some wood-nymph
during her noontide slumber. There, too, on
the storied tapestry, might be seen the chaste
Diana, stealing, in the mystery of moonlight,
to kiss the sleeping Endymion; while Cupid
and Psyche, entwined in immortal marble,
breathed on each other's lips the early kiss of
love.
The ardent rays of the sun were excluded
from these balmy halls; soft and tender music
from unseen musicians floated around, seeming
to mingle with the perfumes exhaled from a
thousand flowers. At night, when the moon
shed a fairy light over the scene, the tender
serenade would rise from among the bowers of
the garden, in which the fine voice of Don
Ambrosio might often be distinguished; cr the
amorous flute would be heard along the mountain, breathing in its pensive cadences the very
soul of a lover's melancholy.
Various entertainments were also devised to




342        1ales from Irving
dispel her loneliness and to charm away the
idea of confinement. Groups of Andalusian
dancers performed, in the splendid saloons, the
various picturesque dances of their country; or
represented little amorous ballets, which turned
upon some pleasing scene of pastoral coquetry
and courtship. Sometimes there were bands
of singers, who, to the romantic guitar, warbled
forth ditties full of passion and tenderness.
Thus all about her enticed to pleasure and
voluptuousness; but the heart of Inez turned
with distaste from  this idle mockery.  The
tears would rush into her eyes as her thoughts
reverted from this scene of profligate splendor
to the humble but virtuous home whence she
had been betrayed; or if the witching power
of music ever soothed her into a tender reverie,
it was to dwell with fondness on the image of
Antonio. But if Don Ambrosio, deceived by
this transient calm, should attempt at such
time to whisper his passion, she would start as
from a dream, and recoil from him with involuntary shuddering.
She had passed one long day of more than
ordinary sadness, and in the evening a band
of these hired performers were exerting all the
animating powers of song and dance to amuse
her. But while the lofty saloon resounded
with their warblings, and the light sound of




Cbe S;tubent ot Salamanca      343
feet upon its marble pavement kept time to the
cadence of the song, poor Inez, with her face
buried in the silken couch on which she reclined, was only rendered more wretched by
the sound of gayety.
At length her attention was caught by the
voice of one of the singers, that brought with it
some indefinite recollections. She raised her
head, and cast an anxious look at the performers, who, as usual, were at the lower end of the
saloon. One of them advanced a little before
the others. It was a female, dressed in a fanciful pastoral garb, suited to the character she
was sustaining; but her countenance was not
to be mistaken. It was the same ballad-singer
that had twice crossed her path, and given uer
mysterious intimations of the lurking mischief
that surrounded her. When the rest of the
performances were concluded, she seized a
tambourine, and tossing it aloft, danced alone
to the melody of her own voice. In the course
of her dancing she approached to where Inez
reclined; and as she struck the tambourine,
contrived, dexterously, to throw a folded paper
on the couch. Inex seized it with avidity, and
concealed it in her bosom. The singing and
dancing were at an end; the motley crew retired; and Inez, left alone, hastened with anxiety to unfold the paper thus mysteriously




344        taleo from ~rvntn
conveyed. It was written in an agitated and
almost illegible handwriting: "Be on your
guard! you are surrounded by treachery. Trust
not to the forbearance of Don Ambrosio; you
are marked out for his prey. An humble victim to his perfidy gives you this warning; she
is encompassed by too many dangers to be
more explicit. Your father is in the dungeons
of the inquisition! "
The brain of Inez reeled as she read this
dreadful scroll. She was less filled with alarm
at her own danger than horror at her father's
situation. The moment Don Ambrosio appeared, she rushed and threw herself at his
feet, imploring him to save her father. Don
Ambrosio started with astonishment; but immediately regaining his self-possession, endeavored to soothe her by his blandishments, and
by assurances that her father was in safety.
She was not to be pacified; her fears were too
much aroused to be trifled with. She declared
her knowledge of her father's being a prisoner
of the inquisition, and reiterated her frantic
supplications that he would save him.
Don Ambrosio paused for a moment in perplexity, but was too adroit to be easily confounded. "That ycur father is a prisoner,"
replied he, "I have long known. I have concealed it from you to save you from fruitless




Cbe Student of Salamanca       345
anxiety. You now know the real reason of the
restraint I have put upon your liberty: I have
been protecting instead of detaining you. Every
exertion has been made in your father's favor;
but I regret to say, the proofs of the offences of
which he stands charged have been too strong
to be controverted. Still," added he, "I have
it in my power to save him; I have influence, I
have means at my beck; it may involve me, it is
true, in difficulties, perhaps in disgrace; but
what would I not do in the hopes of being
rewarded by your favor? Speak, beautiful
Inez," said he, his eyes kindling with sudden
eagerness; " it is with you to say the word that
seals your father's fate. One kind word-say
but you will be mine, and you will behold me
at your feet, your father at liberty and in affluence, and we shall all be happy! "
Inez drew back from him with scorn and disbelief. " My father," exclaimed she, " is too innocent and blameless to be convicted of crime;
this is some base, some cruel artifice!" Don
Ambrosio repeated his asseverations, and with
them also his dishonorable proposals; but his
eagerness overshot its mark; her indignation
and her incredulity were alike awakened by his
base suggestions; and he retired from her presence checked and awed by the sudden pride and
dignity of her demeanor.




346        Uale3 from  Irving
The unfortunate Inez now became a prey to
the most harrowing anxieties. Don Ambrosio
saw that the mask had fallen from his face, and
that the nature of his machinations was revealed.
He had gone too far to retrace his steps, and assume the affectation of tenderness and respect;
indeed, he was mortified and incensed at her
insensibility to his attractions, and now only
sought to subdue her through her fears. He
daily represented to her the dangers that threatened her father, and that it was in his poweralone
to avert them. Inez was still incredulous. She
was too ignorant of the nature of the inquisition
to know that even innocence was not always a
protection from its cruelties; and she confided
too surely in the virtue of her father to believe
that any accusation could prevail against him.
At length Don Ambrosio, to give an effectual
blow to her confidence, brought her the proclama'ion of the approaching auto dafl, in which
the prisoners were enumerated. She glanced
her eye over it, and beheld her father's name,
condemned to the stake for sorcery.
For a moment she stood transfixed with horror. Don Ambrosio seized upon the transient
calm. "Think now, beautiful Inez," said he,
with a tone of affected tenderness, "his life is
still in your hands; one word from you, one
kind word, and I can yet save him."




tbe!ituDent of saiamnanca    347
"Monster! wretch!" cried she, coming to
herself, and recoiling from him with insuperable abhorrence: " 't is you that are the cause of
this-'t is you that are his murderer! " Then,
wringing her hands, she broke forth into exclamations of the most frantic agony.
The perfidious Ambrosio saw the torture of
her soul, and anticipated from it a triumph. He
saw that she was in no mood, during her present
paroxysm, to listen to his words; but he trusted
that the horrors of lonely rumination would
break down her spirit, and subdue her to his
will. In this, however, he was disappointed.
Many were the vicissitudes of mind of the
wretched Inez: one time she would embrace
his knees with piercing supplications; at another she would shrink with nervous horror at
his very approach; but any intimation of his
passion only excited the same emotion of loathing and detestation.
At length the fatal day drew nigh. "To-morrow," said Don Ambrosio, as he left her one
evening,-" to-morrow is the auto da ft. Tomorrow you will hear the sound of the bell that
tolls your father to his death. You will almost
see the smoke that rises from his funeral-pile.
I leave you to yourself. It is yet in my power
to save him. Think whether you can stand tomorrow's horrors without shrinking.  Think




348          atles from lIrving
whether you can endure the after-reflection,
that you were the cause of his death, and that
merely through a perversity in refusing proffered happiness."
What a night it was to Inez! Her heart, already harassed and almost broken by repeated
and protracted anxieties; her strength wasted
and enfeebled. On every side horrors awaited
her: her father's death, her own dishonor;
there seemed no escape from misery or perdition. " Is there no relief from marn-no pity in
heaven? " exclaimed she.   "What have we
done that we should be thus wretched? "
As the dawn approached, the fever of her mind
arose to agony; a thousand times did she try the
doors and windows of her apartments, in the desperate hope of escaping. Alas! with all the
splendor of her prison, it was too faithfully secured for her weak hands to work deliverance.
Like a poor bird, that beats its wings against its
gilded cage, until it sinks panting in despair, so
she threw herself on the floor in hopeless anguish. Her blood grew hot in her veins, her
tongue was parched, her temples throbbed with
violence, she gasped rather than breathed; it
seemed as if her brain was on fire. "Blessed
Virgin! " exclaimed she, clasping her hands, and
turning up her strained eyes, " look down with
pity, and support me in this dreadful hour! "




Ube Stubent of Salamanca      349
Just as the day began to dawn, she heard a
key turn softly in the door of her apartment.
She dreaded lest it should be Don Ambrosio;
and the very thought of him gave her a sickening pang. It was a female, clad in a rustic
dress, with her face concealed by her mantilla.
She stepped silently into the room, looked cautiously round, and then, uncovering her face,
revealed the well-known features of the balladsinger. Inez uttered an exclamation of surprise, almost 6f joy. The unknown started back,
pressed her finger on her lips enjoining silence,
and beckoned her to follow. She hastily wrapped
herself in her veil, and obeyed. They passed
with quick but noiseless steps through an antechamber, across a spacious hall, and along a
corridor; all was silent; the household was yet
locked in sleep. They came to the door, to
which the unknown applied a key. Inez's
heart misgave her; she knew not but some
new treachery was menacing her; she laid her
cold hand on the stranger's arm: "Whither are
you leading me?" said she.  "To liberty,"
replied the other in a whisper.
"Do you know the passages about this mansion?"
" But too well! " replied the girl, with a melancholy shake of the head. There was an expression of sad veracity in her countenance that




35)        sales from  [rvingl
was not to be distrusted. The door ope-ned on
a small terrace which was overlooked by several windows of the mansion.
"We must move across this quickly," said
the girl, "or we may be observed."
They glided over it as if scarce touching the
ground. A flight of steps led down into the
garden; a wicket at the bottom was readily
unbolted; they passed with breathless velocity
along one of the alleys, still in sight of the
mansion, in which, however, no person appeared to be stirring. At length they came to
a low private door in the wall, partly hidden by
a fig-tree. It was secured by rusty bolts, that refused to yield to their feeble efforts.
" Holy Virgin! " exclaimed the stranger,"what is to be done? one moment more, and
we may be discovered."
She seized a stone that lay near by: a few
blows, and the bolts flew back; the door grated
harshly as they opened it, and the next moment
they found themselves in a narrow road.
"Now," said the stranger, "for Granada as
quickly as possible! The nearer we approach
it, the safer we shall be; for the road will be
more frequented."
The imminent risk they ran of being pursued
and taken gave supernatural strength to their
limbs; they flew rather than ran. The day had




Cbe Stubent of iSalamanca


35I


dawned; the crimson streaks on the edge of the
horizon gave tokens of the approaching sunrise;
already the light clouds that floated in the western sky were tinged with gold and purple,though
the broad plain of the Vega, which now began
to open upon their view, was covered with the
dark haze of the morning. As yet they only
passed a few straggling peasants on the road,
who could have yielded them no assistance in
case of their being overtaken. They continued
to hurry forward, and had gained a considerable
distance, when the strength of Inez, which had
only been sustained by the fever of her mind,
began to yield to fatigue: she slackened her
pace, and faltered.
"Alas!" said she, "my limbs fails me! I
can go no farther! "
"Bear up, bear up," replied her companion
cheeringly; "a little farther, and we shall be
safe; look! yonder is Granada, just showing
itself in the valley below us. A little farther,
and we shall come to the main road, and
then we shall find plenty of passengers to protect us."
Inez, encouraged, made fresh efforts to get
forward, but her weary limbs were unequal to
the eagerness of her mind; her mouth and
throat were parched by agony and terror; she
gasped for breath, and leaned for support against
Vol. TI.-23




352        Catee trom ~rving
a rock. " It is all in vain! " exclaimed she, "(I
feel as though I should faint."
"Lean on me," said the other; "let us get
into the shelter of yon thicket, that will conceal
us from view. I hear the sound of water, which
will refresh you."
With much difficulty they reached the thicket,
which overhung a small mountain-stream, just
where its sparkling waters leaped over the rock
and fell into a natural basin. Here Inez sank
upon the ground exhausted. Her companion
brought water in the palms of her hands, and
bathed her pallid temples. The cooling drops
revived her; she was enabled to get to the margin of the stream, and drink of its crystal current; then, reclining her head on the bosom of
her deliverer, she was first enabled to murmur
forth her heartfelt gratitude.
" Alas! " said the other, " I deserve no thanks;
I deserve not the good opinion you express. In
me you behold a victim of Don Ambrosio's arts.
In early years he seduced me from the cottage
of my parents: look! at the foot of yonder blue
mountain in the distance lies my native village,
but it is no longer a home for me. He lured me
thence when I was too young for reflection; he
educatad me, taught me various accomplishments, made me sensible to love, to splendor,
to refinement; then, having grown weary of




abe Stubent of Salamanca      353
me, he neglected me, and cast me upon the
world.  Happily, the accomplishments he
taught me have kept me from utter want;
and the love with which he inspired me has
kept me from further degradation! Yes! I confess my weakness: all his perfidy and wrongs
cannot efface him from my heart. I have been
brought up to love him; I have no other idol:
I know him to be base, yet I cannot help adoring him. I am content to mingle among the
hireling throng that administer to his amusements, that I may still hover about him, and
linger in those halls where I once reigned mistress. What merit, then, have I in assisting
your escape? I scarce know whether I am
acting from sympathy and a desire to rescue
another victim from his power, or jealousy and
an eagerness to remove too powerful a rival!"
While she was yet speaking, the sun rose in
all its splendor; first lighting up the mountain
summits, then stealing down height by height,
until its rays gilded the domes and towers of
Granada, which they could partially see fror.
between the trees, below them. Just then th,
heavy tones of a bell came sounding from a
distance, echoing, in sullen clang, along the
mountain. Inez turned pale at the sound. She
knew it to be the great bell of the cathedral,
rung at sunrise on the day of the auto da fl, to




354        Cales from   irving
give note of funeral preparation. Every stroke
beat upon her heart, and inflicted an absolute,
corporeal pang. She started up wildly. " Let
us be gone!" cried she; there is not a moment
for delay!"
"Stop!" exclaimed the other; "yonder are
horsemen coming over the brow of that distant
height. If I mistake not, Don Ambrosio is at
their head. Alas! 't is he; we are lost. Hold! "
continued she. " Give me your scarf and veil.
Wrap yourself in this mantilla. I will fly up to
yon foot-path that leads to the heights. I will
let the veil flutter as I ascend. Perhaps they
may mistake me for you, and they must dismount to follow me. Do you hasten forward;
you will soon reach the main road. You have
jewels on your fingers. Bribe the first muleteer you meet to assist you on your way."
All this was said with hurried and breathless
rapidity. The exchange of garments was made
in an instant. The girl darted up the mountainpath, her white veil fluttering among the dark
shrubbery, while Inez, inspired with new
strength, or rather new terror, flew to the road,
and trusted to Providence to guide her tottering
steps to Granada.
All Grenada was in agitation on the morning
of this dismal day. The heavy bell of the
cathedral continued to utter its clanging tones,




;be ~ tuDent of ialamanca       355
that pervaded every part of the city, summoning
all persons to the tremendous spectacle about to
be exhibited. The streets through which the
procession was to pass were crowded with the
populace. The windows, the roofs, every place
that could admit a face or a foothold, was alive
with spectators. In the great square a spacious
scaffolding, like an amphitheatre, was erected,
where the sentences of the prisoners were to be
read, and the sermon of faith to be preached;
and close by were the stakes prepared where
the condemned were to be burnt.to death.
Seats were arranged for the great, the gay, the
beautiful; for such is the horrible curiosity of
human nature that this cruel sacrifice was attended with more eagerness than a theatre, or
even a bull-feast.
As the day advanced, the scaffolds and balconies were filled with expecting multitudes;
the sun shone brightly upon fair faces and gallant dresses. One would have thought it some
scene of elegant festivity instead of an exhibition of human agony and death. But what a
different spectacle and ceremony was this from
those which Granada exhibited in the days of
her Moorish splendor.  "Her galas, her tournaments, her sports of the ring, her fetes of St.
Tohn, her music, her Zambras, and admirable
tilts of canes! Her serenades, her concerts,




356         'ates from  IrvIng~
her songs in Generaliffe! The costly liveries of
the Abencerrages, their exquisite inventions,
the skill and valor of the Alabaces, the superb
dresses of the Zegries, Mazas, and Gomeles! " *
All these were at an end. The days of chivalry
were over. Instead of the prancing cavalcade,
with neighing steed and lively trumpet; with
burnished lance, and helm, and buckler; with
rich confusion of plume, and scarf, and banner,
where purple and scarlet, and green, and orange,
and every gay color, were mingled with cloth
of gold and fair embroidery; instead of this
crept on the gloomy pageant of superstition, in
cowl and sackcloth, with cross and coffin, and
frightful symbols of human suffering. In place
of the frank, hardy knight, open and brave,
with his lady's favor in his casque, and amorous
motto on his shield, looking, by gallant deeds,
to win the smile of beauty, came the shaven,
unmanly monk, with downcast eyes, and head
and heart bleached in the cold cloister, secretly
exulting in this bigot triumph.
The sound of the bells gave notice that the
dismal procession was advancing.  It passed
slowly through the principal streets of the city,
bearing in advance the awful banner of the holy
office. The prisoners walked singly, attended
by confessors, and guarded by familiars of the
* Rodd's "Civil Wars of Grenada."




'Cbe Ztubent of Zalanianca


357


inquisition.  They were clad in different garments, according to the nature of their punishments.  Those who were to suffer death wore
the hideous Samarra, painted with flames and demons. The procession was swelled by choirs of
boys, different religious orders, and public dignitaries, and, above all, by the fathers of the
faith, moving "with slow pace and profound
gravity, truly triumphing as becomes the principal generals of that great victory." *
As the sacred banner of the inquisition advanced, the countless throng sunk on their
knees before it; they bowed their faces to the
very earth as it passed, and then slowly rose
again like a great undulating billow. A murmur
of tongues prevailed as the prisoners approached,
and eager eyes were strained and fingers pointed
to distinguish the different orders of penitents,
whose habits denoted the degree of punishment
they were to undergo.  But as those drew near
whose frightful garb marked them as destined
to the flames, the noise of the rabble subsided;
they seemed almost to hold in their breathsfilled with that strange and dismal interest with
which we contemplate a human being on the
verge of suffering and death.
It is an awful thing-a voiceless, noiseless
multitude! The hushed and gazing stillness of
*" Gonsalvius," p. I35.




358        'ates from frrvtng
the surrounding thousands, heaped on walls,
and gates, and roofs, and hanging, as it were,
in clusters, heightened the effect of the pageant
that moved drearily on. The low murmuring
of the priests could now be heard in prayer and
exhortation, with the faint responses of the
prisoners, and now and then the voices of the
choir at a distance, chanting the litanies of the
saints.
The faces of the prisoners were ghastly and
disconsolate. Even those who had been pardoned, and wore the Sanbenito, or penitential
garment, bore traces of the horrors they had
undergone. Some were feeble and tottering
from long confinement; some crippled and distorted by various tortures. Every countenance
was a dismal page on which might be read the
secrets of their prison-house. But in the looks
of those condemned to death there was something fierce and eager. They seemed men harrowed up by the past, and desperate as to the
future. They were anticipating, with spirits
fevered by despair, and fixed and clenched de
termination, the vehement struggle with agony
and death they were shortly to undergo. Some
cast now and then a wild and anguished
look about them upon the shining day, the
"sun-bright palaces," the gay, the beautiful
world, which they were soon to quit forever;




;be Stubent of Salamanca      359
or a glance of sudden indignation at the thronging thousands, happy in liberty and life, who
seemed in contemplating their frightful situation
to exult in their own comparative security.
One among the condemned, however, was an
exception to these remarks. It was an aged
man, somewhat bowed down, with a serene,
though dejected countenance, and a beaming,
melancholy eye. It was the alchemist. The
populace looked upon him with a degree of
compassion, which they were not prone to feel
towards criminals condemned by the inquisition; but when they were told that he was convicted of the crime of magic, they drew back
with awe and abhorrence.
The procession had reached the grand square.
The first part had already mounted the scaffolding, and the condemned were approaching.
The press of the populace became excessive,
and was repelled, as it were, in billows by the
guards. Just as the condemned were entering
the square, a shrieking was heard among the
crowd. A female, pale, frantic, dishevelled,
was seen struggling through the multitude.
"My father! my father! " was all the cry she
uttered, but it thrilled through every heart.
The crowd instinctively drew back, and made
way for her as she advanced.
The poor alchemist had made his peace with




3~Q9        baIed from 1frrtng
Heaven, and, by hard struggle, had closed his
heart upon the world, when the voice of his
child called him once more back to worldly
thought and agony. He turned towards the
well-known voice; his knees smote together;
he endeavored to reach forth his pinioned arms,
and felt himself clasped in the embraces of his
child. The emotions of both were too agonizing
for utterance. Convulsive sobs, and broken
exclamations, and embraces more of anguish
than tenderness, were all that passed between
them. The procession was interrupted for a
moment. The astonished monks and familiars
were filled with involuntary respect at this
agony of natural affection.  Ejaculations of
pity broke from the crowd, touched by the filial
piety, the extraordinary and hopeless anguish
of so young and beautiful a being.
Every attempt to soothe her, and prevail on
her to retire, was unheeded  at length they
endeavored to separate her from her father by
force. The movement roused her from her temporary abandonment. With a sudden paroxysm
of fury, she snatched a sword from one of the
familiars. Her late pale countenance was flushed
with rage, and fire flashed from her once soft
and languishing eyes. The guards shrunk back
with awe. There was something in this filial
frenzy, this feminine tenderness wrought up to




Cbe Stubent of Salamanca        361
desperation, that touched even their hardened
hearts. They endeavored to pacify her, but in
vain. Her eye was eager and quick as the shewolf's guarding her young. With one arm she
pressed her father to her bosom, with the other
she menaced every one that approached.
The patience of the guards was soon exhausted. They had held back in awe, but not
in fear. With all her desperation the weapon
was soon wrested from her feeble hand, and she
was borne shrieking and struggling among the
crowd. The rabble murmured compassion; but
such was the dread inspired by the inquisition,
that no one attempted to interfere.
The procession again resumed its march. Inez
was ineffectually struggling to release herself
from the hands of the familiars that detained
her, when suddenly she saw Don Ambrosio before her. "Wretched girl! " exclaimed he with
fury, "why have you fled from your friends?
Deliver her," said he to the familiars, "to my
domestics; she is under my protection."
His creatures advanced to seize her. "Oh)
no! oh, no! " cried she, with new terrors, and
clinging to the familiars, " I have fled from no
friends. He is not my protector! He is the
murderer of my father! "
The familiars were perplexed; the crowd
pressed on with eager curiosity. "Stand off!"




362         Cales from  trvfint
cried the fiery Ambrosio, dashing the throng
from around him. Then turning to the familiars, with sudden moderation, "My friends,"
said ne, "deliver this poor girl to me. Her
distress has turned her brain; she has escaped
from her friends and protectors this morning;
but a little quiet and kind treatment will restore
her to tranquillity."
'a I am not mad! I am not mad! " cried she,
vehemently. " Oh, save me!-save me from
these men! I have no protector on earth but
my father, and him they are murdering! "
The familiars shook their heads; her wildness
corroborated the assertions of Don Ambrosio,
and his apparent rank commanded respect and
belief. They relinquished their charge to him,
and he was consigning the struggling Inez to
his creatures"Let go your hold, villain!" cried a voice
from among the crowd, and Antonio was seen
eagerly tearing his way through the press of
people.
"Seize him! seize him! " cried Don Ambrosio to the familiars; " 't is an accomplice of
the sorcerer's."
"Liar," retorted Antonio, as he thrust the
mob to the right and left, and forced himself to
the spot.
The sword of Don Ambrosio flashed in an




Zbe Student of Salamanca


363


instant from the scabbard; the student was
armed, and equally alert. There was a fierce
clash of weapons; the crowd made way for
them as they fought, and closed again, so as to
hide them from the view of Inez. All was
tumult and confusion for a moment; when
there was a kind of shout from the spectators,
and the mob again opening, she beheld, as she
thought, Antonio weltering in his blood.
This new shock was too great for her already
overstrained intellects. A giddiness seized upon
her; every thing seemed to whirl before her
eyes; she gasped some incoherent words, and
sunk senseless upon the ground.
Days, weeks, elapsed before Inez returned to
consciousness. At length she opened her eyes,
as if out of a troubled sleep. She was lying
upon a magnificent bed, in a chamber richly
furnished with pier-glasses and massive tables
inlaid with silver, of exquisite workmanship.
The walls were covered with tapestry; the cornices richly gilded: through the door, which
stood open, she perceived a superb saloon, with
statues and crystal lustres, and a magnificent
suite of apartments beyond. The casements of
the room were open to admit the soft breath of
summer, which stole in, laden with perfumes
from a neighboring garden; whence, also, the
refreshing sound of fountains and the sweet




364         taIes from Irvtin
notes of birds came in mingled music to her
ear.
Female attendants were moving, with noiseless step, about the chamber; but she feared to
address them. She doubted whether this were
not all delusion, or whether she was not still in
the palace of Don Ambrosio, and that her escape, and all its circumstances, had not been
but a feverish dream.  She closed her eyes
again, endeavoring to recall the past, and to
separate the real from the imaginary. The last
scenes of consciousness, however, rushed too
forcibly, with all their horrors, to her mind to
be doubted, and she turned shuddering from
the recollection, to gaze once more on the quiet
and serene magnificence around her. As she
again opened her eyes, they rested on an object
that at once dispelled every alarm. At the head
of her bed sat a venerable form watching over
her with a look of fond anxiety,-it was her
father!
I will not attempt to describe the scene that
ensued; nor the moments of rapture which
more than repaid all the sufferings her affectionate heart had undergone. As soon as their
feelings had become more calm, the alchemist
stepped out of the room to introduce a stranger,
to whom he was indebted for his life and liberty. He returned, leading in Antonio, no




Zbe Stubent ot Salamanca


365


longer in his poor scholar's garb, but in the
rich dress of a nobleman.
The feelings of Inez were almost overpowered
by these sudden reverses, and it was some time
before she was sufficiently composed to comprehend the explanation of this seeming romance.
It appeared that the lover, who had sought
her affections in the lowly guise of a student,
was only son and heir of a powerful grandee of
Valencia. He had been placed at the university
of Salamanca; but a lively curiosity, and an
eagerness for adventure, had induced him to
abandon the university, without his father's
censent, and to visit various parts of Spain.
His rambling inclination satisfied, he had remained incognito for a time at Granada, until,
by further study and self-regulation, he could
prepare himself to return home with credit, and
atone for his transgressions against paternal
authority.
How hard he had studied does not remain on
record. All that we know is his romantic
adventure of the tower. It was at first a mere
youthful caprice, excited by a glimpse of a
beautiful face. In becoming a disciple of the
alchemist, he probably thought of nothing
more than pursuing a light love-affair. Further
acquaintance, however, had completely fixed
his affections; and he had determined to con



366        wales from lrvtn(
duct Inez and her father to Valencia, and trust
to her merits to secure his father's consent to
their union.
In the meantime he had been traced to his
concealment. His father had received intelligence of his being entangled in the snares of a
mysterious adventurer and his daughter, and
likely to become the dupe of the fascinations
of the latter. Trusty emissaries had been dispatched to seize upon him by main force, and
convey him without delay to the pateral home.
What eloquence he had used with his father
to convince him of the innocence, the honor,
and the high descent of the alchemist, and of
the exalted worth of his daughter, does not
appear. All that We know is, that the father,
though a very passionate, was a very reasonable
man, as appears by his consenting that his son
should return to Granada, and conduct Inez, as
his affianced bride, to Valencia.
Away, then, Don Antonio hurried back, full
of joyous anticipations.  He still forbore to
throw off his disguise, fondly picturing to himself what would be the surprise of Inez, when,
having won her heart and hand as a poor wandering scholar, he should raise her and her
father at once to opulence and splendor.
On his arrival he had been shocked at finding
the tower deserted of its inhabitants. In vain




Ube Stubent of Salamanca      367.
he sought for intelligence concerning them; a
mystery hung over their disappearance which
he could not penetrate, until he was thunderstruck, on accidentally reading a list of the
prisoners at the impending auto da ft, to find
the name of his venerable master among the
condemned.
It was the very morning of the execution.
The procession was already on its way to the
grand square. Not a moment was to be lost.
The grand inquisitor was a relation of Don
Antonio, though they had never met. His first
impulse was to make himself known; to exert
all his family influence, the weight of his name,
and the power of his eloquence, in vindication
of the alchemist. But the grand inquisitor was
already proceeding, in all his pomp, to the
place where the fatal ceremony was to be performed. How was he to be approached?
Antonio threw himself into the crowd, in a
fever of anxiety, and was forcing his way to
the scene of horror, where he arrived just in
time to rescue Inez, as has been mentioned.
It was Don Ambrosio that fell in the contest.
Being desperately wounded, and thinking his
end approaching, he had confessed, to an attending father of the inquisition, that he was
the sole cause of the alchemist's condemnation,
and that the evidence on which it was grounded
Vol. II-24




368          altes from frVtin
was altogether false. The testimony of Don Antonio came in corroboration of this avowal; and
his relationship to the grand inquisitor had, in all
probability, its properweight. Thus was the poor
alchemist snatched, in a manner, from the very
flames; and so great had been the sympathy
awakened in his case, that for once a populace
rejoiced at being disappointed of an execution.
The residue of the story may readily be imagined by every one versed in this valuable kind
of history. Don Antonio espoused the lovely
Inez, and took her and her father with him to
Valencia. As she had been a loving and dutiful
daughter, so she proved a true and tender wife.
It was not long before Don Antonio succeeded
to his father's titles and estates, and he and his
fair spouse were renowned for being the handsomest and happiest couple in all Valencia.
As to Don Ambrosio, he partially recovered
to the enjoyment of a broken constitution and
a blasted name, and hid his remorse and disgrace in a convent; while the poor victim of
his arts, who had assisted Inez in her escape,
unable to conquer the early passion that he had
awakened in her bosom, though convinced of the
baseness of the object, retired from the world,
and became a humble sister in a nunnery.
The worthy alchemist took up his abode with
his children. A pavilion, in the garden of their




Cbe Stubent of Salamanca      369
palace, was assigned to him as a laboratory,
where he resumed his researches, with renovated ardor, after the grand secret. He was
now and then assisted by his son-in-law; but
the latter slackened grievously in his zeal and
diligence after marriage. Still he would listen
with profound gravity and attention to the old
man's rhapsodies, and his quotations from
Paracelsus, Sandivogius, and Pietro D'Abano,
which daily grew longer and longer. In this
way the good alchemist lived on quietly and
comfortably, to what is called a good old age,
that is to say, an age that is good for nothing,
and, unfortunately for mankind, was hurried out
of life in his ninetieth year, just as he was on
the point of discovering the philosopher's stone.
Such was the story of the captain's friend,
with which we whiled away the morning. The
captain was, every now and then, interrupted
by questions and remarks, which I have not
mentioned, lest I should break the continuity
of the tale. He was a little disturbed, also,
once or twice, by the general, who fell asleep,
and breathed rather hard, to the great horror
and annoyance of Lady Lillycraft. In a long
and tender love-scene, also, which was particularly to her ladyship's taste, the unlucky general. having his head a little sunk upon his




370        Ca[e~ from Itrving
breast, kept making a sound at regular intervals,
very much like the word pislz, long drawn out.
At length he made an odd, abrupt, guttural
sound, that suddenly awoke him; he hemmed,
looked about with a slight degree of consternation, and then began to play with her ladyship's
work-bag, which, however, she rather pettishly
withdrew. The steady sound of the captain's
voice was still too potent a soporific for the poor
general; he kept gleaming up and sinking in
the socket, until the cessation of the tale again
roused him, when he started awake, put his foot
down on Lady Lillycraft's cur, the sleeping
Beauty, which yelped, siezed him by the leg, and
in a moment the whole library resounded with
yelpings and exclamations. Never did a man
more completely mar his fortunes while he was
asleep. Silence being at length restored, the
company expressed their thanks to the captain,
and gave various opinions of the story. The
parson's mind, I found, had been continually
running upon the leaden manuscripts, mentioned in the beginning as dug up at Granada,
and he put several eager questions to the captain
on the subject. The general could not well
make out the drift of the story, but thought it
a little confused. "I am glad, however," said
he, " that they burnt the old chap in the tower;
I have no doubt he was a notorious impostor."




-N
DOLPH HEYLIGER.
"I take the town of concord, where I dwell,
All Kilborn be my witness, if I were not
Begot in bashfulness, brought up in shamefacedness.
Let 'un bring a dog but to my vace that can
Zay I have beat 'un, and without a fault;
Or but a cat will swear upon a book,
I have as much as zet a vire her tail,
And I '11 give him or her a crown for 'mends."
TALE OF A TUB.
IN the early time of the province of New York,
while it groaned under the tyranny of the
English governor, Lord Cornbury, who carried
his cruelties towards the Dutch inhabitants so
far as to allow no dominie, or schoolmaster, to
officiate in their language without his special
license; about this time there lived in the jolly
little old city of the Manhattoes a kind motherly
dame, known by the name of Dame Heyliger.
She was the widow of a Dutch sea-captain, who
died suddenly of a fever, in consequence of
working too hard, and eating too heartily, at
the time when all the inhabitants turned out in
a panic, to fortify the place against the invasion
of a small French privateer.* He left her with
* 1705.




372        males from  Irvring
very little money, and one infant son, the only
survivor of several children. The good woman
had need of much management to make both
ends meet, and keep up a decent appearance.
However, as her husband had fallen a victim to
his zeal for the public safety, it was universally
agreed that " something ought to be done for the
widow"; and on the hopes of this "something"
she lived tolerably for some years; in the meantime everybody pitied and spoke well of her,
and that helped along.
She lived in a small house, in a small street,
called Garden Street, very probably from a garden which may have flourished there some time
or other. As her necessities every year grew
greater, and the talk of the public about doing
" something for her" grew less, she had to cast
about for some mode of doing something for
herself, by way of helping out her slender means,
and maintaining her independence, of which
she was somewhat tenacious.
Living in a mercantile town, she had caught
something of the spirit, and determined to venture a little in the great lottery of commerce.
On a sudden, therefore, to the great surprise of
the street, there appeared at her window a grand
array of gingerbread kings and queens, with
their arms stuck akimbo, after the invariable
royal manner. There were also several broken




Dolpb Ibepligcr          373
tumblers, soime filled with sugar-plums, some
with marbles; there were, moreover, cakes of
various kinds, and barley-sugar, and Holland
dolls, and wooden horses, with here and there
gilt-covered picture-books, and now and then a
skein of thread, or a dangling pound of candles.
At the door of the house sat the good old dame's
cat, a decent, demure-looking personage, who
seemed to scan everybody that passed, to criticise
their dress, and now and then to stretch her
neck, and to look out with sudden curiosity, to
see what was going on at the other end of the
street; or if by chance any idle vagabond dog
came by, and offered to be uncivil-hoity-toity!
-how she would bristle up, and growl, and
spit, and strike out her paws! she was as indignant as ever was an ancient and ugly spinster on
the approach of some graceless profligate.
But though the good woman had to come
down to those humble means of subsistence,
yet she still kept up a feeling of family pride,
being descended from the Vanderspiegels, of
Amsterdam; and she had the family arms painted and framed, and hung over her mantelpiece.
She was, in truth, much respected by all the
poorer people of the place; her house was quite
a resort of the old wives of the neighborhood;
they would drop in there of a winter's afternoon,
as she sat knitting on one side of her fireplace,




374        Calcs from  1rvinog
her cat purring on the other, and the tea-kettle
singing before it; and they would gossip with
her until late in the evening. There was always
an arm-chair for Peter de Groodt, sometimes
called Long Peter, and sometimes Peter Longlegs, the clerk and sexton of the little Lutheran
church, who was her great crony, and indeed
the oracle of her fireside. Nay, the dominie
himself did not disdain, now and then, to step
in, converse about the state of her mind, and
take a glass of her special good cherry-brandy.
Indeed,he never failed to call on New-Year's day,
and wish her a happy New Year, and the good
dame, who was a little vain on some points, always piqued herself on giving him as large a
cake as any one in town.
I have said that she had one son. He was the
child of her old age; but could hardly be called
the comfort, for, of all unlucky urchins, Dolph
Heyliger was the most mischievous. Not that
the whipster was really vicious; he was only
full of fun and frolic, and had that daring, gamesome spirit which is extolled in a rich man's
child, but execrated in a poor man's. He was
continually getting into scrapes; his mother was
incessantly harassed with complaints of some
waggish pranks which he had played off; bills
were sent in for windows that he had broken;
in a word, he had not reached his fourteenth




Volpb bepltger           375
year before he was pronounced, by all the neighborhood, to be a "wicked dog, the wickedest
dog in the street!"  Nay, one old gentleman,
in a claret-colored coat, with a thin red face,
and ferret eyes, went so far as to assure Dame
Heyliger, that her son would, one day or other,
come to the gallows!
Yet, notwithstanding all this, the poor old
soul loved her boy. It seemed as though she
loved him the better the worse he behaved, and
that he grew more in her favor the more he
grew out of favor with the world. Mothers are
foolish, fond-hearted beings; there 's no reasoning them out of their dotage; and, indeed, this
poor woman's child was all that was left to love
her in this world;-so we must not think it hard
that she turned a deaf ear to her good friends,
who sought to prove to her that Dolph would
come to a halter.
To do the varlet justice, too, he was strongly
attached to his parent. He would not willingly
have given her pain on any account; and when
he had been doing wrong, it was but for him to
catch his poor mother's eye fixed wistfully and
sorrowfully upon him, to fill his heart with bitterness and contrition. But he was a heedless
youngster, and could not, for the life of him,
resist any new temptation to fun and mischief.
Though quick at his learning, whenever he




376         Talte~ trom 11rvtng
could be brought to apply himself, he was always prone to be led away by idle company,
and would play truant to hunt after birds'-nests,
to rob orchards, or to swim in the Hudson.
In this way he grew up, a tall, lubberly boy;
and his mother began to be greatly perplexed
what to do with him, or how to put him in a
way to do for himself; for he had acquired such
an unlucky reputation, that no one seemed
willing to employ him.
Many were the consultations that she held
with Peter de Groodt, the clerk and sexton, who
was her prime counsellor. Peter was as much
perplexed as herself, for he had no great opinion
of the boy, and thought he would never come
to good. He at once advised her to send him to
sea: a piece of advice only given in the most
desperate cases; but Dame Heyliger would not
listen to such an idea; she could not think of
letting Dolph go out of her sight. She was sitting one day knitting by her fireside, in great
perplexity, when the sexton entered with an air
of unusual vivacity and briskness. He had just
come from a funeral. It had been that of a boy
of Dolph's years, who had been apprentice to a
famous German doctor, and had died of a consumption. It is true, there had been a whisper
that the deceased had been brought to his end
by being made the subject of the doctor's ex



Dolpb bepll0er


377


periments, on which he was apt to try the effects of a new compound, or a quieting draught.
This, however, it is likely, was a mere scandal;
at any rate, Peter de Groodt did not think it
worth mentioning; though, had we time to
philosophize, it would be a curious matter for
speculation, why a doctor's family is apt to be
so lean and cadaverous, and a butcher's so jolly
and rubicund.
Peter de Groodt, as I said before, entered the
house of Dame Heyliger with unusual alacrity.
A bright idea had popped into his head at the
funeral, over which he had chuckled as he
shovelled the earth into the grave of the doctor's disciple. It had occurred to him, that, as
the situation of the deceased was vacant at the
doctor's, it would be the very place for Dolph.
The boy had parts, and could pound a pestle,
and run an errand with any boy in the town; and
what more was wanted in a student?
The suggestion of the sage Peter was a vision
of glory to the mother. She already saw Dolph,
in her mind's eye, with a cane at his nose, a
knocker at his door, and an M. D. at the end
of his name,-one of the established dignitaries
of the town.
The matter, once undertaken, was soon effected; the sexton had some influence with the
doctor, they having had much dealing together




378         Cales from ITrving
in the way of their separate professions; and
the very next morning he called and conducted
the urchin, clad in his Sunday clothes, to undergo the inspection of Dr. Karl Lodovick
Knipperhausen.
They found the doctor seated in an elbowchair, in one corner of his study, or laboratory,
with a large volume, in German print, before
him. He was a short, fat man, with a dark,
square face, rendered more dark by a black
velvet cap. He had a little nobbed nose, not
unlike the ace of spades, with a pair of spectacles gleaming on each side of his dusky countenance, like a couple of bow-windows.
Dolph felt struck with awe on entering into
the presence of this learned man; and gazed
about him with boyish wonder at the furniture
of this chamber of knowledge; which appeared
to him almost as the den of a magician. In the
centre stood a claw-footed table, with pestle
and mortar, phials and gallipots, and a pair of
small burnished scales. At one end was a
heavy cl-thes-press, turned into a receptacle
for drugs and compounds; against which hung
the doctor's hat and cloak, and gold-headed
cane, and on the top grinned a human skull.
Along the mantelpiece were glass vessels, in
which were snakes and lizards, and a human
fcetus preserved in spirits. A closet, the doors




Dolpb 1bepilger           379
of which were taken off, contained three whole
shelves of books, and some, too, of mighty folio
dimensions,-a collection the like of which
Dolph had never before beheld. As, however,
che library did not take up the whole of the
closet, the doctor's thrifty housekeeper had
occupied the rest with pots of pickles and preserves; and had hung about the room, among
awful implements of the healing art, strings of
red pepper and corpulent cucumbers, carefully
preserved for seed.
Peter de Groodt and his proteg6 were received
with great gravity and stateliness by the doctor,
who was a very wise, dignified little man, and
never smiled. He surveyed Dolph from head
to foot, above, and under, and through his spectacles, and the poor lad's heart quailed as these
great glasses glared on him like two full moons.
The doctor heard all that Peter de Groodt had
to say in favor of the youthful candidate; and
then wetting his thumb with the end of his
tongue, he began deliberately to turn over page
after page of the great black volume before
him. At length, after many hums and haws,
and strokings of the chin, and all that hesitation and deliberation with which a wise man
proceeds to do what he intended to do from the
x ery first, the doctor agreed to take the lad as
a disciple; to give him bed, board, and cloth



380        'ale from lrvtin
ing, and to instruct him in the healing art; in
return for which he was to have his services
until his twenty-first year.
Behold, then, our hero, all at once transformed from an unlucky urchin running wild
about the streets, to a student of medicine, diligently pounding a pestle, under the auspices
of the learned Doctor Karl Lodovick Knipperhausen. It was a happy transition for his fond
old mother. She was delighted with the idea
of her boy's being brought up worthy of his
ancestors; and anticipated the day when he
would be able to hold up his head with the
lawyer, that lived in the large house opposite;
or, peradventure, with the dominie himself.
Doctor Knipperhausen was a native of the
Palatinate in Germany; whence, in company
with many of his countrymen, he had taken
refuge in England, on account of religious persecution. He was one of nearly three thousand
Palatines, who came over from England in
I7Io, under the protection of Governor Hunter.
Where the doctor had studied, how he had
acquired his medical knowledge, and where he
nad received his diploma, it is hard at present
to say, for nobody knew at the time; yet it is:
certain that his profound skill and abstruse
knowledge were the talk and wonder of the
common people, far and near.




5)olpb ~bepltger


38T


His practice was totally different from that
of any other physician,-consisting in mysterious compounds, known only to himself, in the
preparing and administering of which, it was
said, he always consulted the stars. So high
an opinion was entertained of his skill, particularly by the German and Dutch inhabitants,
that they always resorted to him in desperate
cases. He was one of those infallible doctors
that are always effecting sudden and surprising
cures, when the patient has been given up by
all the regular physicians; unless, as is shrewdly observed, the case has been left too long
before it was put into their hands. The doctor's
library was the talk and marvel of the neighborhood, I might almost say the entire burgh.
The good people looked with reverence at a
man who had read three whole shelves full of
books, and some of them, too, as large as a
family Bible. There were many disputes among
the members of the little Lutheran church, as
to which was the wisest man, the doctor or the
dominie. Some of his admirers even went so
far as to say that he knew more than the governor himself,-in a word, it was thought that
there was no end to his knowledge!
No sooner was Dolph received into the doctor's family, than he was put in possession of
the lodging of his predecessor. It was a garret



382          aITes from Irving
room of a steep-roofed Dutch house, where the
rain had pattered on the shingles, and the
lightning gleamed, and the wind piped through
the crannies in stormy weather; and where
whole troops of hungry rats, like Don Cossacks,
galloped about, in defiance of traps and ratsbane.
He was soon up to his ears in medical studies,
being employed, morning, noon, and night, in
rolling pills, filtering tinctures, or pounding the
pestle and mortar in one corner of the laboratory; while the doctor would take his seat in
another corner, when he had nothing else to do,
or expected visitors, and arrayed in his morning-gown and velvet cap, would pore over the
contents of some folio volume. It is true, that
the regular thumping of Dolph's pestle, or,
perhaps, the drowsy buzzing of the summerflies, would now and then lull the little man
into a slumber; but then his spectacles were
always wide-awake, and studiously regarding
the book.
There was another personage in the house,
however, to whom Dolph was obliged to pay allegiance. Though a bachelor, and a man of such
great dignity and importance, the doctor was,
like many other wise men, subject to petticoat
government. He was completely under the
sway of his housekeeper,-a spare,?busy, fret



5Dolpb lbeltfger


383


ting housewife, in a little, round, quilted German cap, with a huge bunch of keys jingling
at the girdle of an exceedingly long waist.
Frau Ilse (or Frow Ilsy, as it was pronounced)
had accompanied him in his various migrations
from Germany to England, and from England
to the province; managing his establishment
and himself too; ruling him, it is true, with a
gentle hand, but carrying a high hand with all
the world beside. How she had acquired such
ascendancy I do not pretend to say. People, it
i true, did talk-but have not people been
prone to talk ever since the world began? Who
can tell how women generally contrive to get
the upperhand? A husband, it is true, may
now and then be master in his own house; but
who ever knew a bachelor that was not managed by his housekeeper?
Indeed, Frau Ilsy's power was not confined
to the doctor's household.  She was one of
those prying gossips who know every one's
business better than they do themselves, and
whose all-seeing eyes and all-telling tongues
are terrors throughout a neighborhood.
Nothing of any moment transpired in the
world of scandal of this little burgh but it was
known to Frau Ilsy. She had her crew of
cronies, that were perpetually hurrying to her
little parlor with some precious bit of news;
Vni. II.




384        Cales from lrtving
nay, she would sometimes discuss a whole volume of secret history, as she held the streetdoor ajar, and gossiped with one of these
garrulous cronies in the very. teeth of a December blast.
Between the doctor and the housekeeper it
may easily be supposed that Dolph had a busy
life of it. As Frau Ilsy kept the keys, and literally ruled the roast, it was starvation to offend
her, though he found the study of her temper
more perplexing even than that of medicine.
When not busy in the laboratory, she kept him
running hither and thither on her errands; and
on Sundays he was obliged to accompany her
to and from church, and carry her Bible. Many
a time has the poor varlet stood shivering and
blowing his fingers, or holding his frost-bitten
nose, in the churchyard, while Ilsy and her
cronies were huddled together, wagging their
heads, and tearing some unlucky character to
pieces.
With all his advantages, however, Dolph
made very slow progress in his art. This was
no fault of the doctor's certainly, for he took
unwearied pains with the lad, keeping him
close to the pestle and mortar, or on the trot
about town with phials and pill-boxes; and
if he ever flagged in his industry, which he was
rather apt to do, the doctor would fly into a




5olpb t)e~ilter


385


passion, and ask him if he ever expected to
learn his profession, unless he applied himself
closer to the study. The fact is, he still retained the fondness for sport and mischief that
had marked his childhood; the habit, indeed,
had strengthened with his years, and gained
force from being thwarted and constrained.
He daily grew more and more untractable, and
lost favor in the eyes both of the doctor and
the housekeeper.
In the meantime the doctor went on, waxing
wealthy and renowned. He was famous for his
skill in managing cases not laid down in the
books. He had cured several old women and
young girls of witchcraft,-a terrible complaint,
and nearly as prevalent in the province in those
days as hydrophobia is at present. He had
even restored one strapping country-girl to perfect health, who had gone so far as to vomit
crooked pins and needles, which is considered
a desperate stage of the malady. It was whispered also that he was possessed of the art of
preparing love-powders; and many applications had he in consequence from love-sick
patients of both sexes. Iut all these cases
formed the mysterious part of his practice, in
which, according to the cant phrase, "secrecy
and honor might be depended on." Dolph,
therefore, was obliged to turn out of the study




386        'ates from   rt[rin
whenever such consultations occurred, though
it is said he learnt more of the secrets of the
art at the key-hole than by all the rest of his
studies put together.
As the doctor increased in wealth, he began
to extend his possessions, and to look forward,
like other great men, to the time when he
should retire to the repose of a country-seat.
For this purpose he had purchased a farm, or,
as the Dutch settlers called it a bowerie, a few
miles from town. It had been the residence of
a wealthy family that had returned some time
since to Holland. A large mansion-house
stood in the centre of it, very much out of repair, and which, in consequence of certain
reports, had received the appellation of the
Haunted House. Either from these reports, or
from its actual dreariness, the doctor found it
impossible to get a tenant; and that the place
might not fall to ruin before he could reside in
it himself, he placed a country boor, with his
family, in one wing, with the privilege of cultivating the farm on shares.
The doctor now felt all the dignity of a landholder rising within him. He had a little of
the German pride of territory in his composition, and almost looked upon himself as owner
of a principality. He began to complain of the
fatigue of business, and was fond of riding out




5olpb lbepl[eer


387


"to look at his estate." His little expeditions
to his lands were attended with a bustle and
parade that created a sensation throughout the
neighborhood.  His wall-eyed horse stood,
stamping and whisking off the flies, for a full
hour before the house.  Then the doctor's
saddle-bags would be brought out and adjusted;
then, after a little while, his cloak would be
rolled up and strapped to the saddle; then his
umbrella would be buckled to the cloak; while,
in the meantime, a group of ragged boys, that
observant class of beings, would gather before
the door. At length the doctor would issue
forth, in a pair of jack-boots that reached above
his knees, and a cocked hat flapped down in
front. As he was a short, fat man, he took
some time to mount into the saddle; and when
there, he took some time to have the saddle
and stirrups properly adjusted, enjoying the
wonder and admiration of the urchin crowd.
Even after he had set off, he would pause in
the middle of the street, or trot back two or
three times to give some parting orders, which
were answered by the housekeeper from the
door, or Dolph from the study, or the black
cook from the cellar, or the chambermaid from
the garret-window; and there were generally
some last words bawled after him, just as he
was turning the corner.




3S8        Calef trom lrving
The whole neighborhood would be aroused
by this pomp and circumstance. The cobbler
would leave his last; the barber would thrust
out his frizzled head, with a comb sticking in it;
a knot would collect at the grocer's door, and
the word would be buzzed from one end of the
street to the other: "The doctor 's riding out
to his country-seat!"
These were golden moments for Dolph. No
sooner was the doctor out of sight than pestle
and mortar were abandoned; the laboratory
was left to take care of itself, and the student
was off on some madcap frolic.
Indeed, it must be confessed, the youngster,
as he grew up, seemed in a fair way to fulfil
the prediction of the old claret-colored gentleman. He was the ringleader of all holiday
sports and midnight gambols; ready for all
kinds of mischievous pranks and hair-brained
adventures.
There is nothing so troublesome as a hero on
a small scale, or, rather, a hero in a small town.
Dolph soon became the abhorrence of all
drowsy, housekeeping old citizens, who hated
noise, and had no relish for waggery. The
good dames, too, considered him as little better
than a reprobate, gathered their daughters under their wings whenever he approached, and
pointed him out as a warning to their sons.




>olpb IbelIiger          389
No one seemed to hold him in much regard except the wild striplings of the place, who were
captivated by his open-hearted, daring manners,
and the negroes, who always look upon every
idle, do-nothing youngster as a kind of gentleman. Even the good Peter de Groodt, who
had considered himself a kind of patron of the
lad, began to despair of him; and would shake
his head dubiously, as he listened to a long
complaint from the housekeeper, and sipped a
glass of her raspberry brandy.
Still his mother was not to be wearied out of
her affection by all the waywardness of her boy,
nor disheartened by the stories of his misdeeds,
with which her good friends were continuaell
regaling her. She had, it is true, very little of
the pleasure which rich people enjoy, in always
hearing their children praised; but she considered all this ill-will as a kind of persecution
which he suffered, and she liked him the better on that account.  She saw him growing
up a fine, tall, good-looking youngster, and she
looked at him with the secret pride of a mother's heart. It was her great desire that Dolph
should appear like a gentleman, and all the
money she could save went towards helping
out his pocket and his wardrobe. She would
look out of the window after him, as he
sallied forth in his best array, and her heart




390        males from   irgitng
would yearn with delight; and once, when
Peter de Groodt, struck with the youngster's
gallant appearance on a bright Sunday morning, observed: "Well, after all, Dolph does
grow a comely fellow! " the tear of pride
started into the mother's eye. "Ah, neighbor!
neighbor!" exclaimed she, "they may say
what they please; poor Dolph will yet hold up
his head with the best of them! "
Dolph Heyliger had now nearly attained his
one-and-twentieth year, and the term of his
medical studies was just expiring, yet it must
be confessed that he knew little more of the
profession than when he first entered the doctor's doors. This, however, could not be from
any want of quickness of parts, for he showed
amazing aptness in mastering other branches of
knowledge, which he could only have studied
at intervals.  He was, for instance, a sure
marksman, and won all the geese and turkeys
at Christmas holidays. He was a bold rider;
he was famous for leaping and wrestling; he
played tolerably on the fiddle; could swim like
a fish; and was the. best hand in the whole
place at fives or ninepins.
All these accomplishments, however, procured him no favor in the eyes of the doctor,
who grew more and more crabbed and intolerant the nearer the term of apprenticeship ap



!olpb 1beplioer         391
proached. Frau Ilsy, too, was forever finding
some occasion to raise a windy tempest about
his ears, and seldom encountered him about the
house without a clatter of the tongue; so that
at length the jingling of her keys, as she approached, was to Dolph like the ringing of the
prompter's bell, that gives notice of a theatrical
thunder-storm. Nothing but the infinite goodhumor of the heedless youngster enabled him
to bear all this domestic tyranny without open
rebellion. It was evident that the doctor and
his housekeeper were preparing to beat the
poor youth out of the nest, the moment his
term should have expired,-a short-hand mode
which the doctor had of providing for useless
disciples.
Indeed the little man had been rendered
more than usually irritable lately in consequence
of various cares and vexations which his country estate had brought upon him. The doctor
had been repeatedly annoyed by the rumors
and tales which prevailed concerning the old
mansion, and found it difficult to prevail even
upon the countryman and his family to remain
there rent-free. Every time he rode out to the
farm he was teased by some fresh complaint of
strange noises and fearful sights, with which
the tenants were disturbed at night; and the
doctor would come home fretting and fuming,




392          altes from I~rving
and vent his spleen upon the whole household.  It was indeed a sore grievance that
affected him both in pride and purse. He was
threatened with an absolute loss of the profits
of his property; and then, what a blow to his
territorial consequence, to be the landlord of a
haunted house!
It was observed, however, that with all his
vexation, the doctor never proposed to sleep in
the house himself; nay, he could never be prevailed upon to remain on the premises after
dark, but made the best of his way for town as
soon as the bats began to flit about in the twilight. The fact was, the doctor had a secret
belief in ghosts, having passed the early part of
his life in a country where they particularly
abound; and indeed the story went that, when
a boy, he had once seen the Devil upon the
Hartz Mountains in Germany.
At length the doctor's vexations on this head
were brought to a crisis. One morning as he
sat dozing over a volume in his study, he was
suddenly startled from his slumbers by the
bustling in of the housekeeper.
"Here 's a fine to do!" cried she, as she entered the room. " Here 's Claus Hopper come
in, bag and baggage, from the farm, and swears
he '11 have nothing more to do with it. The
whole family have been frightened out of their




2olpb Ibe^piger


393


wits; and there 's such racketing and rummaging about the old house, that they can't sleep
quiet in their beds!"
" Donner and blitzen!" cried the doctor, impatiently; " will they never have done chattering about that house? What a pack of fools, to
let a few rats and mice frighten them out of
good quarters! "
"Nay, nay," cried the housekeeper, wagging
her head knowingly, and piqued at having a
good ghost-story doubted, "there 's more in it
than rats and mice. All the neighborhood talks
about the house; and then such sights as have
been seen in it! Peter de Groodt tells me that
the family that sold you the house, and went to
Holland, dropped several strange hints about
it, and said 'they wished you joy of your bargain'; and you know yourself there 's no getting any family to live in it."
" Peter de Groodt's a ninny-an old woman,"
said the doctor, peevishly; " I '11 warrant he 's
been filling these people's heads full of stories.
It 's just like his nonsense about the ghost that
haunted the church-belfry, as an excuse for not
ringing the bell that cold night when Harmanus
Brinkerhoffs house was on fire. Send Claus to
me."
Claus Hopper now made his appearance: a
simple country lout, full of awe at finding him



394         ial[e  from 1rvilfn
self in the very study of Dr. Knipperhausen,
and too much embarrassed to enter in much
detail of the matters that had caused his alarm.
He stood twirling his hat in one hand, resting
sometimes on one leg, sometimes on the other,
looking occasionally at the doctor, and now
and then stealing a fearful glance at the death's
head that seemed ogling him from the top of the
clothes-press.
The doctor tried every means to persuade
him to return to the farm, but all in vain; he
maintained a dogged determination on the subject; and at the close of every argument or
solicitation would make the same brief, inflexible reply, "Ich kan nicht, mynheer." The
doctor was a "little pot, and soon hot "; his
patience was exhausted by these continual
vexations about his estate. The stubborn refusal of Claus Hopper seemed to him like flat
rebellion; his temper suddenly boiled over,
and Claus was glad to make a rapid retreat to
escape scalding.
When the bumpkin got to the housekeeper's
room, he found Peter de Groodt, and several
other true believers ready to receive him. Here
he indemnified himself for the restraint he had
suffered in the study, and opened a budget of
stories about the haunted house that astonished
all his hearers. The housekeeper believed them




Dolpb lberliger


395


all, if it was only to spite the doctor for having
received her intelligence so uncourteously. Peter de Groodt matched them with many a wonderful legend of the times of the Dutch dynasty,
and of the Devil's Stepping-stones; and of the
pirate hanged at Gibbet Island, that continued
to swing there at night long after the gallows
was taken down; and of the ghost of the unfortunate Governor Leisler, hanged for treason,
which haunted the old fort and the governmenthouse.  The gossiping knot dispersed, each
charged with direful intelligence. The sexton
disburdened himself at a vestry meeting that
was held that very day, and the black cook forsook her kitchen, and spent half the day at the
street-pump, that gossiping-place of servants,
dealing forth the news to all that came for
water. In a little time the whole town was in a
buzz with tales about the haunted house. Some
said that Claus Hopper had seen the Devil,
while others hinted that the house was haunted
by the ghosts of some of the patients whom the
doctor had physicked out of the world, and that
was the reason why he did not venture to live
in it himself.
All this put the little doctor in a terrible
fume. He threatened vengeance on any one
who should affect the value of his property by
exciting popular prejudices. He complained




396        Zale from 1rvfng
loudly of thus being in a manner dispossessed
of his territories by mere bugbears; but he
secretly determined to have the house exorcised
by the dominie.  Great was his relief, therefore, when, in the midst of his perplexities,
Dolph stepped forward and undertook to garrison the haunted house. The youngster had
been listening to all the stories of Claus Hopper
and Peter de Groodt: he was fond of adventure,
he loved the marvellous, and his imagination
had become quite excited by these tales of
wonder. Besides, he had led such an uncomfortable life at the doctor's, being subjected to
the intolerable thraldom of early hours, that he
was delighted at the prospect of having a house
to himself, even though it should be a haunted
one. His offer was eagerly accepted, and it
was determined he should mount guard that
very night. His only stipulation was, that the
enterprise should be kept secret from his
mother; for he knew the poor soul would not
sleep a wink if she knew her son was waging
war with the powers of darkness.
When night came on he set out on this perilous expedition. The old black cook, his only
friend in the household, had provided him with
a little mess for his supper, and a rush-light;
andshe tied round his neck an amulet, givenher
by an African conjurer, as a charm against evil




)olpb Ibellfger          397
spirits. Dolph was escorted on his way by the
doctor and Peter de Groodt, who had agreed to
accompany him to the house, and to see him safe
lodged. The night was overcast, and it was
very dark when they arrived at the grounds
which surrounded the mansion. The sexton
led the way with a lantern. As they walked
along the avenue of acacias, the fitful light,
catching from bush to bush, and tree to tree,
often startled the doughty Peter, and made him
fall back upon his followers; and the doctor
grappled still closer hold of Dolph's arm, observing that the ground was very slippery and
uneven. At one time they were nearly put to
total rout by a bat, which came flitting about
the lantern; and the notes of the insects from
the trees, and the frogs from a neighboring
pond, formed a most drowsy and doleful concert. The front door of the mansion opened
with a grating sound, that made the doctor
turn pale. They entered a tolerably large hall,
such as is common in American country-houses,
and which serves for a sitting-room in warm
weather. From this they went up a wide staircase, that groaned and creaked as they trod,
every step making its particular note, like the
key of a harpsichord. This led to another hall
on the second story, whence they entered the
room where Dolph was to sleep. It was large,




398        talcs from Irving
and scantily furnished; the shutters were closed;
but as they were much broken, there was no
want of a circulation of air. It appeared to
have been that sacred chamber, known among
Dutch housewives by the name of "the best
bedroom "; which is the best-furnished room
in the house, but in which scare anybody is
ever permitted to sleep. Its splendor, however,
was all at an end. There were a few broken
articles of furniture about the room, and in the
centre stood a heavy deal table and a large armchair, both of which had the look of being
coeval with the mansion. The fireplace was
wide, and had been faced with Dutch tiles,
representing Scripture stories; but some of
them had fallen out of their places, and lay
scattered about the hearth. The sexton lit the
rush-light; and the doctor, looking fearfully
about the room, was just exhorting Dolph to
be of good cheer, and to pluck up a stout
heart, when a noise in the chimney, like voices
and struggling, struck a sudden panic into the
sexton. He took to his heels with the lantern;
the doctor followed hard after him; the stairs
groaned and creaked as they hurried down,
increasing their agitation and speed by its
noises. The front door slammed after them;
and Dolph heard them scrabbling down the
avenue, till the sound of their feet was lost




2olpb Ibepligcr


399


in the distance. That he did not join in this
precipitate retreat might have been owing to
his possessing a little more courage than his
companions, or perhaps that he had caught a
glimpse of the cause of their dismay, in a nest
of chimney-swallows, that can.e tumbling down
into the fireplace.
Being now left to himself, he secured the
front door by a strong bolt and bar; and having seen that the other entrances were fastened,
returned to his desolate chamber. Having made
his supper from the basket which the good old
cook had provided, he locked the chamberdoor, and retired to rest on a mattress in one
corner. The night was calm and still; and
nothing broke upon the profound quiet but the
lonely chirping of a cricket from the chimney
of a distant chamber. The rush-light, which
stood in the centre of the deal table, shed a
feeble yellow ray, dimly illumining the cham- ber, and making uncouth shapes and shadows
on the walls, from the clothes which Dolph had
thrown over a chair.
With all his boldness of heart, there was
something subduing in this desolate scene;
and he felt his spirits flag within him, as he
lay on his hard bed and gazed about the room.
He was turning over in his mind his idle habits, his doubtful prospects, and now and then
Vol. II.-26




400        Bateo from 1?rvtng
heaving a heavy sigh as he thought on his poor
old mother; for there is nothing like the silence
and loneliness of night to bring dark shadows
over the brightest mind. By-and-by he thought
he heard a sound as of some one walking below
stairs. He listened, and distinctly heard a step
on the great staircase. It approached solemnly
and slowly, tramp -tramp - tramp! It was
evidently the tread of some heavy personage;
and yet how could he have got into the house
without making a noise? He had examined
all the fastenings, and was certain that every
entrance was secure. Still the steps advanced,
tramp -tramp-tramp! It was evident that
the person approaching could not be a robber,
the step was too loud and deliberate; a robber
would either be stealthy or precipitate. And
now the footsteps had ascended the staircase;
they were slowly advancing along the passage,
resounding through the silent and empty apartments. The very cricket had ceased its melancholy note, and nothing interrupted their awful
distinctness. The door, which had been locked
on the inside, slowly swung open, as if selfmoved. The footsteps entered the room; but
no one was to be seen; They passed slowly
and audibly across it, tramp-tramp-tramp!
but whatever made the sound was invisible.
Dolph rubbed his eyes, and stared about him;




2Dolpb bepllger


401


he could see to every part of the dimly-lighted
chamber; all was vacant; yet still he heard
those mysterious footsteps, solemnly walking
about the chamber. They ceased, and all was
dead silence. There was something more appalling in this invisible visitation than there
would have been in any thing that addressed
itself to the eyesight. It was awfully vague
and indefinite. He felt his heart beat against
his ribs; a cold sweat broke out upon his forehead; he lay for some time in a state of violent
agitation; nothing, however, occurred to increase his alarm. His light gradually burnt
down into the socket, and he fell asleep.
When he awoke it was broad daylight; the
sun was peering through the cracks of the
window-shutters, and the birds were merrily
singing about the house. The bright cheery
day soon put to flight all the terrors of the
preceding night.  Dolph laughed, or rather
tried to laugh, at all that had passed, and
endeavored to persuade himself that it was a
mere freak of the imagination, conjured up by
the stories he had heard; but he was a little
puzzled to find the door of his room locked on
the inside, notwithstanding that he had positively seen it swing open as the footsteps had
entered. He returned to town in a state of
considerable perplexity; but he determined to




402        Cales from  Irvtng
say nothing on the subject, until his doubts
were either confirmed or removed by another
night's watching. His silence was a grievous
disappointment to the gossips who had gathered at the doctor's mansion. They had prepared their minds to hear direful tales, and
were almost in a rage at being assured he had
nothing to relate.
The next night, then, Dolph repeated his
vigil. He now entered the house with some
trepidation. He was particular in examining
the fastenings of all the doors, and securing
them well. He locked the door of his chamber,
and placed a chair against it; then having dispatched his supper, he thew himself on his
mattress and endeavored to sleep. It was all in
vain; a thousand crowding fancies kept him
waking. The time slowly dragged on, as if
minutes were spinning themselves out into
hours. As the night advanced, he grew more
and more nervous; and he almost started from
his couch when he heard the mysterious footstep again on the staircase. Up it came, as
before, solemnly and slowly, tramp-tramptramp! It approached along the passage; the
door again swung open, as if there had been
neither lock nor impediment, and a strangelooking figure stalked into the room. It was
an elderly man, large and robust, clothed in




]opb   berlioer         403
the old Flemish fashion. He had on a kind of
short cloak, with a garment under it, belted
round the waist; trunk-hose, wvith great
bunches or bows at the knees; and a pair of
russet boots, very large at top, and standing
widely from his legs. His hat was broad and
slouched, with a feather trailing over one side.
His iron-gray hair hung in thick masses on his
neck; and he had a short grizzled beard. He
walked slowly round the room, as if examining
that all was safe; then, hanging his hat on a
peg beside the door, he sat down in the elbowchair, and, leaning his elbow on the table, fixed
his eves on Dolph with an unmoving and deadening stare.
Dolph was not naturally a coward; but he
had been brought up in an implicit belief in
ghosts and goblins. A thousand stories came
swarming to his mind that he had heard about
this building; and as he looked at this strange
personage, with his uncouth garb, his pale visage, his grizzly beard, and his fixed, staring,
fish-like eye, his teeth began to chatter, his hair
to rise on his head, and a cold sweat to break
out all over his body. How long he remained
in this situation he could not tell, for he was
like one fascinated. He could not take his
gaze off from the spectre; but lay staring at
him, with his whole intellect absorbed in the




404         tales from Irving
contemplation. The old man remained seated
behind the table, without stirring, or turning an
eye, always keeping a dead steady glare upon
Dolph. At length the household cock, from a
neighboring farm, clapped his wings, and gave
a loud cheerful crow that rung over the fields.
At the sound the old man slowly rose, and took
down his hat from the peg; the door opened,
and closed after him; he was heard to go
slowly down the staircase, tramp  tramptramp!-and when he had got to the bottom,
all was again silent. Dolph lay and listened
earnestly; counted every footfall; listened, and
listened, if the steps should return, until, exhausted by watching and agitation, he fell into
a troubled sleep.
Daylight again brought fresh courage and
assurance. He would fain have considered all
that had passed as a mere dream; yet there
stood the chair in which the unknown had
seated himself; there was the table on which
he had leaned; there was the peg on which he
had hung his hat; and there was the door,
locked precisely as he himself had locked it,
with the chair placed against it. He hastened
down-stairs, and examined the doors and windows; all were exactly in the same state in
which he had left them, and there was no
apparent way by which any being could have




5olpb tbelftoer          405
entered and left the house without leaving some
trace behind. "Pooh!" said Dolph to himself,
"it was all a dream: "-but it would not do;
the more he endeavored to shake the scene off
from his mind, the more it haunted him.
Though he persisted in a strict silence as to
all that he had seen or heard, yet his looks
betrayed the uncomfortable night that he had
passed. It was evident that there was something wonderful hidden under this mysterious
reserve. The doctor took him into the study,
locked the door, and sought to have a full and
confidential communication; but he could get
nothing out of him. Frau Ilsy took him aside
into the pantry, but to as little purpose; and
Peter de Groodt held him by the button for a
full hour, in the churchyard, the very place to
get at the bottom of a ghost story, but came off
not a whit wiser than the rest. It is always the
case, however, that one truth concealed makes
a dozen current lies. It is like a guinea locked
up in a bank, that has a dozen paper representatives. Before the day was over, the neighborhood was full of reports. Some said that
Dolph Heyliger watched in the haunted house,
with pistols loaded with silver bullets; others,
that he had a long talk with a spectre without a
head; others, that Doctor Knipperhausen and
the sexton had been hunted down the Bowery




406        Cales from trving
lane, and quite into town, by a legion of ghosts
of their customers. Some shook their heads,
and thought it a shame the doctor should put
Dolph to pass'the night alone in that dismal
house, where he might be spirited away, no one
knew whither; while others observed, with a
shrug, that if the Devil did carry off the youngster, it would be but taking his own.
These rumors at length reached the ears of
the good Dame Heyliger, and, as may be supposed, threw her into a terrible alarm. For her
son to have opposed himself to danger from living foes, would have been nothing so dreadful
in her eyes, as to dare alone the terrors of the
haunted house. She hastened to the doctor's,
and passed a great part of the day in attempting
to dissuade Dolph from repeating his vigil; she
told him a score of tales, which her gossiping
friends had just related to her, of persons who
had been carried off, when watching alone in
old ruinous houses. It was all to no effect.
Dolph's pride, as well as curiosity, was piqued.
He endeavored to calm the apprehensions of
his mother, and to assure her that there was no
truth in all the rumors she had heard; she
looked at him dubiously and shook her head;
but finding his determination was not to be
shaken, she brought him a little thick Dutch
Bible, with brass clasps, to take with him, as Q




2olpb belitgerC         407
sword wherewith to fight the powers of darkness; and, lest that might not be sufficient, the
housekeeper gave him the Heidelberg catechism
by way of dagger.
The next night, therefore, Dolph took up his
quarters for the third time in the old mansion.
Whether dream or not, the same thing was repeated.  Towards midnight, when every thing
was still, the same sound echoed through the
empty halls, tramp-tramp-tramp! The stairs
were again ascended; the door again swung
open; the old man entered; walked round the
room; hung up his hat, and seated himself by
the table. The same fear and trembling came
over poor Dolph, though not in so violent a degree. He lay in the same way, motionless and
fascinated, staring at the figure, which regarded
him as before with a dead, fixed, chilling gaze.
In this way they remained for a long time, till,
by degrees, Dolph's courage began gradually to
revive. Whether alive or dead, this being had
certainly some object in his visitation, and he
recollected to have heard it said, spirits have no
power to speak until spoken to. Summoning
up resolution, therefore, and making two or
three attempts, before he could get his parched
tongue in motion, he addressed the unknown
in the most solemn form of adjuration, and demanded to know what was the motive of his visit




408        Zalte from Irvino
No sooner had he finished than the old man
rose, took down his hat, the door opened, and
he went out, looking back upon Dolph just as
he crossed the threshold, as if expecting him to
follow. The youngster did not hesitate an instant. He took the candle in his hand, and the
Bible under his arm, and obeyed the tacit invitation. The candle emitted a feeble, uncertain
ray; but still he could see the figure before him
slowly descend the stairs.  He followed trembling. When it had reached the bottom of the
stairs it turned through the hall towards the
back-door of the mansion. Dolph held the light
over the balustrades; but in his eagerness to
catch a sight of the unknown he flared his
feeble taper so suddenly that it went out. Still
there was sufficient light from the pale moonbeams that fell through a narrow window to
give him an indistinct view of the figure near
the door. He followed, therefore, down-stairs,
and turned towards the place; but when he arrived there the unknown had disappeared. The
door remained fast barred and bolted; there
was no other mode of exit; yet the being,
whatever he might be, was gone. He unfastened the door, and looked out into the fields.
*It was a hazy, moonlight night, so that the eye
could distinguish objects at some distance. He
thought he saw the unknown in a footpath




Dolpb Ibepliger


409


which led from the door. He was not mistaken;
but how had he got out of the house? He did
not pause to think, but followed cn. The old
man proceeded at a measured pace, without
looking about him, his footsteps sounding on
the hard ground. He passed through the orchard of apple-trees, always keeping the footpath.  It led to a well, situated in a little hollow, which had supplied the farm with water.
Just at this well Dolph lost sight of him. He
rubbed his eyes and looked again; but nothing
was to be seen of the unknown. He reached
the well, but nobody was there. All the surrounding ground was open and clear; there was
no bush nor hiding-place. He looked down the
well, and saw, at a great depth, the reflection of
the sky in the still water. After remaining
here for some time, without seeing or hearing
any thing more of his mysterious conductor, he
returned to the house, full of awe and wonder.
He bolted the door, groped his way back to
bed, and it was long before he could compose
himself to sleep.
His dreams were strange and troubled. He
thought he was following the old man along
the side of a great river, until they came to a
vessel on the point of sailing, and that his
conductor led him on board and vanished. He
remembered the commander of the vessel, a




410         Cales from Ilrving
short swarthy man, with crisped black hair,
blind of one eye, and lame of one leg; but the
rest of his dream was very confused. Sometimes he was sailing; sometimes on shore;
now amidst storms and tempests, and now wandering quietly in unknown streets. The figure
of the old man was strangely mingled up with
the incidents of the dream, and the whole distinctly wound up by his finding himself on
board of the vessel again, returning home, with
a great bag of money!
When he woke, the gray, cool light of dawn
was streaking the horizon, and the cocks passing the reveille from farm to farm throughout
the country. He rose more harassed and perplexed than ever. He was singularly confounded by all that he had seen and dreamt,
and began to doubt whether his mind was not
affected, and whether all that was passing in
his thoughts might not be mere feverish fantasy. In his present state of mind he did not
feel disposed to return immediately to the doctor's, and undergo the cross-questioning of the
household. He made a scanty breakfast, therefore, on the remains of the last night's provisions, and then wandered out into the fields
to meditate on all that had befallen him. Lost
in thought he rambled about, gradually approaching the town, until the morning was far




)olpb t)epltler


4I1


advanced, when he was roused by a hurry and
bustle around him. He found himself near the
water's edge, in a throng of people, hurrying
to a pier, where was a vessel ready to make
sail. He was unconsciously carried along by
the impulse of the crowd, and found that it was
a sloop on the point of sailing up the Hudson
to Albany. There was much leave-taking, and
kissing of old women and children, and great
activity in carrying on board baskets of bread
and cakes, and provisions of all kinds, notwithstanding the mighty joints of meat that dangled
over the stern; for a voyage to Albany was an
expedition of great moment in those days. The
commander of the sloop was hurrying about,
and giving a world of orders, which were not
very strictly attended to, one man being busy in
lighting his pipe, and another in sharpening his
snicker-snee.
The appearance of the commander suddenly
caught Dolph's attention. He was short and
swarthy, with crisped black hair; blind of one
eye and lame of one leg-the very commander
that he had seen in his dream! Surprised and
aroused, he considered the scene more attentively, and recalled still further traces of his dream:
the appearance of the vessel, of the river, and
of a variety of other objects accorded with the
imperfect images vaguely rising to recollection.




412        Baled from 1rvtno
As he stood musing on these circumstances,
the captain suddenly called out to him in Dutch,
" Step on board, young man, or you '11 be left
behind! " He was startled by the summons;
he saw that the sloop was cast loose, and was
actually moving from the pier; it seemed as if
he was actuated by some irresistible impulse;
he sprang upon the deck, and the next moment
the sloop was hurried off by the wind and tide.
Dolph's thoughts and feelings were all in tumult
and confusion. He had been strongly worked
upon by the events which had recently befallen
him, and could not but think there was some
connection between his present situation and
his last night's dream. He felt as if under
supernatural influence; and tried to assure
himself with an old and favorite maxim of his,
that " one way or other all would turn out for
the best." For a moment, the indignation of
the doctor at his departure, without leave,
passed across his mind, but that was matter of
little moment; then he thought of the distress
of his mother at his strange disappearance, and
the idea gave him a sudden pang; he would
have entreated to be put on shore; but he
knew with such wind and tide the entreaty
would have been in vain. Then the inspiring
love of novelty and adventure came rushing in
full tide through his bosom; he felt himself




VDolpb ltbepliger_


413


launched strangely and suddenly on the world,
and under full way to explore the regions of
wonder that lay up this mighty river, and beyond those blue mountains which had bounded
his horizon since childhood. While he was lost
in this whirl of thought, the sails strained to the
breeze; the shores seemed to hurry away behind him; and before he perfectly recovered
his self-possession, the sloop was ploughing her
way past Spiking-devil and Yonkers, and the
tallest chimney of the Manhattoes had faded
from his sight.
I have said that a voyage up the Hudson in
those days was an undertaking of some moment; indeed, it was as much thought of as a
voyage to Europe is at present. The sloops
were often many days on the way; the cautious
navigators taking in sail when it blew fresh,
and coming to anchor at night; and stopping
to send the boat ashore for milk or tea; without which it was impossible for the worthy old
lady passengers to subsist. And there were the
much-talked-of perils of the Tappaan Zee, and
the highlands.  In short, a prudent Dutch
burgher would talk of such a voyage for
months, and even years, beforehand; and
never undertook it without putting his affairs
in order, making his will, and having prayers
said for him in the Low Dutch churches.




414        eales from 1[rvinf
In the course of such a voyage, therefore,
Dolph was satisfied he would have time enough
to reflect, and to make up his mind as to what
he should do when he arrived at Albany. The
captain, with his blind eye and lame leg, would,
it is true, bring his strange dream to mind, and
perplex him sadly for a few moments; but of
late his life had been made up so much of
dreams and realities, his nights and days had
been so jumbled together, that he seemed to be
moving continually in a delusion. There is
always, however, a kind of vagabond consolation in a man's having nothing in this world to
lose; with this Dolph comforted his heart, and
determined to make the most of the present enjoyment.
In the second day of the voyage they came to
the highlands. It was the latter part of a calm,
sultry day, that they floated gently with the
tide between these stern mountains. There
was that perfect quiet which prevails over nature in the languor of summer heat; the turning of a plank, or the accidental falling of an
oar on deck, was echoed fronm the mountain
side, and reverberated along the shores; and if
by chance the captain gave a shout of command, there were airy tongues which mocked
it from every cliff.
Dolph gazed about him in mute delight and




Vol~pb lbepliger


415


wonder at these scenes of nature's magnificence.
To the left the Dunderberg reared its woody
precipices, height over height, forest over forest,
away into the deep summer sky. To the right
strutted forth the bold promontory of Antony's
Nose, with a solitary eagle wheeling about it;
while beyond, mountain succeded to mountain,
until they seemed to lock their arms together,
and confine this mighty river in their embraces.
There was a feeling of quiet luxury in gazing at
the broad, green bosoms here and there scooped
out among the precipices; or at woodlands
high in air, nodding over the edge of some
beetling bluff, and their foliage all transparent
in the yellow sunshine.
In the midst of his admiration, Dolph remarked a pile of bright, snowy clouds, peering
above the western heights. It was succeeded
by another, and another, each seemingly pushing onwards its predecessor, and towering with
dazzling brilliancy in the deep-blue atmosphere;
and now muttering peals of thunder were faintly heard rolling behind the mountains. The
river, hitherto still and glassy, reflecting pictures of the sky and land, now showed a dark
ripple at a distance, as the breeze came creeping
up it. The fish-hawks wheeled and screamed,
and sought their nests on the high dry trees;
the crows flew clamorously to the crevices of
Vol. IT.-77




416        'ates~ from ttrvitn
the rocks, and all nature seemed conscious of
the approaching thunder-gust.
The clouds now rolled in volumes over the
mountain tops; their summits still bright and
snowy, but the lower parts of an inky blackness. The rain began to patter down in broad
and scattered drops; the wind freshened, and
curled up the waves; at length it seemed as if
the bellying clouds were torn open by the mountain tops, and complete torrents of rain came
rattling down. The lightning leaped from
cloud to cloud, and streamed quivering against
the rocks, splitting and rending the stoutest
forest-trees. The thunder burst in tremendous
explosions; the peals were echoed from mountain to mountain; they crashed upon Dunderberg, and rolled up the long defile of the highlands, each headland making a new echo, until
old Bull Hill seemed to bellow back the storm.
For a time the scudding rack and mist, and
the sheeted rain, almost hid the landscape from
the sight. There was a fearful gloom, illumined
still more fearfully by the streams of lightning
which glittered among the rain-drops. Never
had Dolph beheld such an absolute warring of
the elements; it seemed as if the storm was
tearing and rending its way through this mountain defile, and had brought all the artillery of
heaven into action.




2Dolpb tbeplgcr


417


The vessel was hurried on by the increasing
wind, until she came to where the river makes
a sudden bend, the only one in the whole course
of its majestic career.* Just as they turned the
point, a violent flaw of wind came sweeping
down a mountain gully, bending the forest before it, and, in a moment, lashing up the river
into white froth and foam. The captain saw
the danger, and cried out to lower the sail. Before the order could be obeyed, the flaw
struck the sloop, and threw her on her beam
ends. Every thing now was fright and confusion: the flapping of the sails, the whistling
and rushing of the wind, the bawling of the
captain and crew, the shrieking of the passengers, all mingling with the rolling and bellowing of the thunder. In the midst of the uproar
the sloop righted; at the same time the mainsail shifted, the boom came sweeping the
quarter-deck, and Dolf, who was gazing unguardedly at the clouds, found himself in a
moment floundering in the river.
For once in his life one of his idle accomplishments was of use to him. The many truant
hours he had devoted to sporting in the Hudson had made him an expert swimmer; yet
with all his strength and skill he found great
difficulty in reaching the shore. His disappear* This must have been the bend at West Point.




4i8        vales from rlvtng
ance from the deck had not been noticed by the
crew, who were all occupied with their own
danger. The sloop was driven along with inconceivable rapidity. She had hard work to
weather a long promontory on the eastern
shore, round which the river turned, and which
completely shut her from Dolph's view.
It was on a point of the western shore that he
landed, and, scrambling up the rocks, threw
himself, faint and exhausted, at the foot of a
tree. By degrees the thunder-gust passed over.
The clouds rolled away to the east, where they
lay piled in feathery masses, tinted with the
last rosy rays of the sun. The distant play of
the lightning might be seen about the dark
bases, and now and then might be heard the
faint muttering of the thunder. Dolph rose and
sought about to see if any path led from the
shore, but all was savage and trackless. The
rocks were piled upon each other; great trunks
of trees lay shattered about, as they had been
blown down by the strong winds which draw
through these mountains, or had fallen through
age. The rocks, too, were overhung with wild
vines and briers, which completely matted
themselves together, and opposed a barrier to
all ingress; every movement that he made
shook down a shower from the dripping foliage.
He attempted to scale one of these almost per



Eolpb lbepti~er


4I9


pendicular heights; but, though strong and
agile, he found it an Herculean undertaking.
Often he was supported merely by crumbling
projections of the rock, and sometimes he clung
to roots and branches of trees, and hung almost
suspended in the air. The wood-pigeon came
cleaving his whistling flight by him, and the
eagle screamed from the brow of the impending
cliff. As he was thus clambering, he was on
the point of seizing hold of a shrub to aid his
ascent, when something rustled among the
leaves, and he saw a snake quivering along like
lightning, almost from under his hand.  It
coiled itself up immediately, in an attitude of
defiance, with flattened head, distended jaws,
and quickly vibrating tongue, that played like
a little flame about its mouth. Dolph's heart
turned faint within him, and he had wellnigh
let go his hold and tumbled down the precipice.
The serpent stood on the defensive but for an
instant; and finding there was no attack, glided
away into a cleft in the rock. Dolph's eye
followed it with fearful intensity, and saw a
nest of adders, knotted, and writhing, and hissing in the chasm. He hastened with all his
speed from so frightful a neighborhood. His
imagination, full of this new horror, saw all
adder in every curling vine, and heard the tail
of a rattlesnake in every dry leaf that rustled.




420        gales from lruing
At length he succeeded in scrambling to the
summit of a precipice; but it was covered by
a dense forest. Wherever he could gain a lookout between the trees, he beheld heights and
cliffs, one rising beyond another, until huge
mountains overtopped the whole. There were
no signs of cultivation; no smoke curling
among the trees to indicate a human residence.
every thing was wild and solitary. As he was
standing on the edge of a precipice overlooking
a deep ravine fringed with trees, his feet detached a great fragment of rock; it fell, crashing
its way through the tree-tops, down into the
chasm. A loud whoop, or rather yell, issued
from the bottom of the glen; the moment after
there was the report of a gun; and a ball came
whistling over his head, cutting the twigs and
leaves, and burying itself deep in the bark of a
chestnut-tree.
Dolph did not wait for a second shot, but
made a precipitate retreat, fearing every moment to hear the enemy in pursuit. He succeeded, however, in returning unmolested to
the shore, and determined to penetrate no farther into a country so beset with savage perils.
He sat himself down, dripping, disconsolately,
on a stone. What was to be done? where was
he to shelter himself? The hour of repose was
approaching; the birds were seeking their




5Dolpb Ibepliger.1
nests, the bat began to flit about.n the twilight,
and the night-hawk, soaring high in the heaven, seemed to be calling out the stars. Night
gradually closed in, and wrapt every 'thing in
gloom; and though it was the latter part of
summer, the breeze stealing along the river,
and among these dripping forests, was chilly
and penetrating, especially to a half-drowned
man.
As he sat drooping and despondent in this
comfortless condition, he perceived a light
gleaming through the trees near the shore,
where the winding of the river made a deep
bay. It cheered him with the hope of a human
habitation, where he might get something to
appease the clamorous cravings of his stomach,
and what was equally necessary in his shipwrecked condition, a comfortable shelter for
the night. With extreme difficulty he made
his way toward the light, along ledges of rocks,
down which he was in danger of sliding into
the river, and over great trunks of fallen trees;
some of which had been blown down in the late
storm, and lay so thickly together that he had
to struggle through their branches. At length
he came to the brow of a rock overhanging a
small dell, whence the light proceeded. It was
from a fire at the foot of a great tree in the
midst of a grassy interval or plat among the




422        ~aIe6 from lirting
rocks. The fire cast up a red glare among the
gray crags and impending trees, leaving chasms
of deep gloom, that resembled entrances to
caverns. A small brook rippled close by, betrayed by the quivering reflection of the flame.
There were two figures moving about the fire,
and others squatted before it. As they were
between him and the light, they were in complete shadow; but one of them happening to
move round to the opposite side, Dolph was
startled at perceiving, by the glare falling on
painted features, and glittering on silver ornaments, that he was an Indian. He now looked
more narrowly, and saw guns leaning against a
tree, and a dead body lying on the ground.
Here was the very foe that had fired at him
from the glen. He endeavored to retreat quietly, not caring to intrust himself to these halfhuman beings in so savage and lonely a place.
It was too late; the Indian, with that eagle
quickness of eye so remarkable in his race, perceived something stirring among the bushes on
the rock; he seized one of the guns that leaned
against the tree; one moment more, and Dolph
might have had his passion for adventure cured
by a bullet. He halloed loudly, with the Indian
salutation of friendship; the whole party sprang
upon their feet; the salutation was returned, and
the straggler was invited to join them at the fire.




2Dolpb tbep1i0er         423
On approaching, he found, to his consolation, the party was composed of white men, as
well as Indians. One, evidently the principal
personage, or commander, was seated on a
trunk of a tree before the fire. He was a large,
stout man, somewhat advanced in life, but hale
and hearty. His face was bronzed almost to
the color of an Indian's; he had strong but
rather jovial features, an aquiline nose, and a
mouth shaped like a mastiff's. His face was
half thrown in shade by a broad hat, with a
buck's tail in it. His gray hair hung short in
his neck. He wore a hunting-frock, with Indian leggins, and moccasons, and a tomahawk
in the broad wampum-belt round his waist. As
Dolph caught a distinct view of his person and
features, something reminded him of the old
man of the haunted house. The man before
him, however, was different in dress and age;
he was more cheery, too, in aspect, and it was
hard to find where the vague resemblance lay;
but a resemblance there certainly was. Dolph
felt some degree of awe in approaching him,
but was assured by a frank, hearty welcome.
He was still further encouraged by perceiving
that the dead body, which had caused him some
alarm, was that of a deer; and his satisfaction
aas complete in discerning, by savory steams
from a kettle, suspended by a hooked stick




424        males from [flrvinq
over the fire, that there was a part cooking for
the evening's repast.
He had, in fact, fallen in with a rambling
hunting-party, such as often took place in those
days among the settlers along the river. The
hunter is always hospitable; and nothing makes
men more social and unceremonious than meeting in the wilderness. The commander of the
party poured out a dram of cheering liquor,
which he gave him with a merry leer, to warm
his heart, and ordered one of his followers to
fetch some garments from a pinnace, moored
in a cove close by, while those in which our
hero was dripping might be dried before the
fire.
Dolph found, as he had suspected, that the
shot from the glen, which had come so near
giving him his quietus when on the precipice,
was from the party before him. He had nearly
crushed one of them by the fragments of rock
which he had detached; and the jovial old
hunter, in the broad hat and buck-tail, had
fired at the place where he saw the bushes
move, supposing it to be some wild animal.
He laughed heartily at the blunder, it being
what is considered an exceeding good joke
among hunters; "but faith, my lad," said he,
" if I had but caught a glimpse of you to take
ioht at, you would have followed the rock.




)olpb tepitger          425
Antony Vander Heyden is seldom known to
miss his aim." These last words were at once
a clue to Dolph's curiosity; and a few questions
let him completely into the character of the
man before him, and of his band of woodland
rangers. The commander in the broad hat and
hunting-frock was no less a personage than the
Heer Antony Vander Heyden, of Albany, of
whom Dolph had many a time heard. He was,
in fact, the hero of many a story, his singular
humors and whimsical habits being matters of
wonder to his quiet Dutch neighbors. As he
was a man of property, having had a father before him from whom he inherited large tracts
of wild land, and whole barrelfuls of wampum,
he could indulge his humors without control.
Instead of staying quietly at home, eating and
drinking at regular meal-times, amusing himself by smoking his pipe on the bench before
the door, and then turning into a comfortable
bed at night, he delighted in all kinds of
rough, wild expeditions; never so happy as
when on a hunting-party in the wilderness,
sleeping under trees or bark-sheds, or cruising
down the river, or on some woodland lake,
fishing and fowling, and living the Lord knows
how.
He was a great friend to Indians, and to an
Indian mode of life, which he considered true




426         cales fron tIruing
natural liberty and manly enjoyment. When
at home he had always several Indian hangerson who loitered about his house, sleeping like
hounds in the sunshine, or preparing hunting
and fishing tackle for some new expedition, or
shooting at marks with bows and arrows.
Over these vagrant beings Heer Antony had
as perfect command as a huntsman over his
pack, though they were great nuisances t6 the
regular people of his neighborhood.  As he
was a rich man, no one ventured to thwart his
humors; indeed, his hearty, joyous manner
made him universally popular. He would troll
a Dutch song as he tramped along the street;
hail every one a mile off, and when he entered
a house, would slap the good man familiarly onrt
the back, shake him by the hand till he roared,
and kiss his wife -and daughter before his face, —
in short, there was no pride nor ill-humor about
Heer Antony.
Besides his Indian hangers-on, he had three
or four humble friends among the white men,
who looked up to him as a patron, and had the
run of his kitchen, and the favor of being
taken with him occasionally on his expeditions.
With a medley of such retainers he was at
present on a cruise along the shores of the
Hudson, in a pinnace kept for his own recreation. There were two white men with him,




Dolpb ter2lf0er


427


dressed partly in the Indian style, with moccasons and hunting-shirts; the rest of his crew
consisted of four favorite Indians. They had
been prowling about the river, without any definite object, until they found themselves in the
highlands, where they had passed two or three
days, hunting the deer which still lingered
among these mountains.
"It is lucky for you, young man," said Antony Vander Heyden, "that you happened to
be knocked overboard to-day, as to-morrow
morning we start early on our return homewards, and you might then have looked in vain
for a meal among the mountains-but come,
lads, stir about! stir about! Let 's see what
prog we have for supper; the kettle has boiled
long enough; my stomach cries cupboard, and
I '11 warrant our guest is in no mood to dally
with his trencher."
There was a bustle now in the little encampment; one took off the kettle and turned a
part of the contents into a huge wooden bowl.
Another prepared a flat rock for a table, while
a third brought various utensils from the pinnace; Heer Antony himself brought a flask or
two of precious liquor from his own private
locker, knowing his boon companions too well
to trust any of them with the key.
A rude but hearty repast was soon spread,




428        'ales from Irvtin
consisting of venison smoking from the kettle,
with cold bacon, boiled Indian corn, and mighty
loaves of good brown household bread. Never
had Dolph made a more delicious repast; and
when he had washed it down with two or three
draughts from the Heer Antony's flask, and felt
the jolly liquor sending its warmth through his
veins, and glowing round his very heart, he
would not have changed his situation, no, not
with the governor of the province.
The Heer Antony, too, grew chirping and
joyous; told half a dozen fat stories, at which
his white followers laughed immoderately,
though the Indians, as usual, maintained an
invincible gravity.
"This is your true life, my boy! " said he,
slapping Dolph on the shoulder; "a man is
never a man till he can defy wind and weather,
range woods and wilds, sleep under a tree, and
live on basswood leaves! "
And then would he sing a stave or two of a
Dutch drinking song, swaying a short squab
Dutch bottle in his hand, while his myrmidons
would join in the chorus, until the woods echoed
again,-as the good old song has it:
"They all with a shout made the elements ring
So soon as the office was o'er,
To feasting they went, with true merriment,
And tippled strong liquor gillore."




Dolpb tbepliger          429
In the midst of his joviality, however, Heer
Antony did not lose sight of discretion. Though
he pushed the bottle without reserve to Dolph,
he always took care to help his followers himself, knowing the beings he had to deal with,
and was particular in granting but a moderate
allowance to the Indians. The repast being
ended, the Indians having drunk their liquor,
and smoked their pipes, now wrapped themselves in their blankets, stretched themselves
on the ground, with their feet to the fire, and
soon fell aleep, like so many tired hounds.
The rest of the party remained chatting before
the fire, which the gloom of the forest, and the
dampness of the air from the late storm, rendered extremely grateful and comforting. The
conversation gradually moderated from the hilarity of supper-time, and turned upon hunting
adventures and exploits and perils in the wilderness, many of which were so strange and
improbable that I will not venture to repeat
them, lest the veracity of Antony Vander Heyden and his comrades should be brought into
question. There were many legendary tales
told, also, about the river, and the settlements
on its borders, in which valuable kind of lore
the Heer Antony seemed deeply versed. As
the sturdy bush-beater sat in a twisted root of a
tree, that served him for an arm-chair, deal



430        'ates from 1rvinlg
ing forth these wild stories, with the fire gleaming on his strongly marked visage, Dolph was
again repeatedly perplexed by something that
reminded him of the phantom of the haunted
house; some vague resemblance not to be fixed
upon any precise feature or lineament, but pervading the general air of his countenance and
figure.
The circumstance of Dolph's falling overboard led to the relation of divers disasters and
singular mishaps that had befallen voyagers on
this great river, particularly in the earlier periods of colonial history, most of which the Hecr
deliberately attributed to supernatural causes.
Dolph stared at this suggestion, but the old
gentleman assured him it was very currently
believed by the settlers along the river that
these highlands were under the dominion of
supernatural and mischievous beings, which
seemed to have taken some pique against the
Dutch colonists in the early time of the settlement. In consequence of this they have ever
taken particular delight in venting their spleen,
and indulging their humors upon the Dutch
skippers, bothering them with flaws, headwinds, counter-currents, and all kinds of impediments, insomuch that a Dutch navigator
was always obliged to be exceedingly wary and
deliberate in his proceedings; to come to an



EDolpb tbepliger          43i
chor at dusk; to drop his peak, or to take in
sail, whenever he saw a swag-bellied cloud rolling over the mountains; in short, to take so
many precautions that he was often apt to be an
incredible time in toiling up the river.
Some, he said, believed these mischievous
powers of the air to be the evil spirits conjured
up by the Indian wizards, in the early times of
the province, to revenge themselves on the
strangers who had dispossessed them of their
country. They even attributed to their incantations the misadventure which befell the renowned Hendrick Hudson, when he sailed so
gallantly up this river in quest of a northwest
passage, and, as he thought, ran his ship
aground; which they affirm was nothing more
nor less than a spell of these same wizards, to
prevent his getting to China in this direction.
The greater part, however, Heer Antony
observed, accounted for all the extraordinary
circumstances attending this river, and the perplexities of the skippers who navigated it, by
the old legend of the Storm-ship which haunted
Point-no-point. On finding Dolph to be utterly
ignorant of this tradition, the Heer stared at
him for a m I)ment with surprise, and wondered
where he hal passed his life, to be uninformed
on so important a point of history. To pass
away the remainder of the evening, therefore,
Vol. II-28




432        Cales from 1rvrlng
he undertook the tale, as far as his memory
would serve, in the very words in which it had
been written out by Mynheer Selyne, an early
poet of the New Nederlandts. Giving, then, a
stir to the fire, that sent up its sparks among the
trees like a little volcano, he adjusted himself
comfortably in his root of a tree, and throwing
back his head, and closing his eyes for a few
moments, to summon up his recollection, he
related the following legend.
THE STORM-SHIP.
In the golden age of the province of the
New Netherlands, when under the sway of Wouter Van Twiller, otherwise called the Doubter,
the people of the Manhattoes were alarmed one
sultry afternoon, just about the time of the summer solstice, by a tremendous storm of thunder
and lightning. The rain fell in such torrents
as absolutely to spatter up and smoke along the
ground. It seemed as if the thunder rattled and
rolled over the very roofs of the houses; the
lightning was seen to play about the church of
St. Nicholas, and to strive three times, in vain,
to strike its weathercock. Garret Van Home's
new chimney was split almost from top to
bottom; and Doffue Middleberger was struck
speechless from his bald-faced mare, just as he




Zbe Sitormz~ibip


433


was riding into town. In a word, it was one of
those unparalleled storms which only happen
once within the memory of that venerable personage known in all towns by the appellation
of "the oldest inhabitant."
Great was the terror of the good old women
of the Manhattoes. They gathered their children together, and took refuge in the cellars;
after having hung a shoe on the iron point of
every bedpost, lest it should attract the lightning. At length the storm abated; the thunder
sank into a growl, and the setting sun, breaking
from under the fringed borders of the clouds,
made the broad bosom of the bay to gleam like
a sea of molten gold.
The word was given from the fort that a ship
was standing up the bay. It passed from mouth
to mouth, and street to street, and soon put the
little capital in a bustle. The arrival of a ship,
in those early times of the settlement, was an
event of vast importance to the inhabitants. It
brought them news from the old world, from
the land of their birth, from which they were
so completely severed: to the yearly ship, too,
they looked for their supply of luxuries, of
finery, of comforts, and almost of necessaries.
The good vrouw could not have her new cap
nor new gown until the arrival of the ship; the
artist waited for it for his tools, the burgomaster




434        Cates from 1rving
for his pipe and his supply of Hollands, the
schoolboy for his top and marbles, and the
lordly landholder for the bricks with which he
was to build his new mansion. Thus every one,
rich and poor, great and small, looked out for
the arrival of the ship. It was the great yearly
event of the town of New Amsterdam; and
from one end of the year to the other, the ship
-the ship-the ship-was the continual topic
of conversation.
The news from the fort, therefore, brought all
the populace down to the Battery, to behold the
wished-for sight. It was not exactly the time
when she had been expected to arrive, and the
circumstance was a matter of some speculation.
Many were the groups collected about the Battery. Here and there might be seen a burgomaster, of slow and pompous gravity, giving his
opinion with great confidence to a crowd of old
women and idle boys. At another place was a
knot of old weather-beaten fellows, who had
been seamen or fishermen in their times, and
were great authorities on such occasions; these
gave different opinions, and caused great disputes among their several adherents: but the
man most looked up to, and followed and
watched by the crowd, was Hans Van Pelt, an
ild Dutch sea-captain retired from service, the
iautical oracle of the place. He reconnoitred




Ube StormSbip           435
the ship through an ancient telescope, covered
with tarry canvas, hummed a Dutch tune to
himself, and said nothing. A hum, however,
from Hans Van Pelt, had always more weight
with the public than a speech from another
man.
In the meantime the ship became more distinct to the naked eye; she was a stout, round,
Dutch-built vessel, with high bow and poop,
and bearing Dutch colors. The evening sun
gilded her bellying canvas, as she came ridiug
over the long waving billows. The sentinel
who had given notice of her approach declared
that he first got sight or her when she was in
the centre of the bay, and that she broke suddenly on his sight just as if she had come out of
the bosom of the black thunder-cloud.  The
by-standers looked at Hans Van Pelt to see
what he would say to this report. Hans Van
Pelt screwed his mouth closer together, and
said nothing, upon which some shook their
heads, and others shrugged their shoulders.
The ship was now repeatedly hailed, but
made no reply, and passing by the fort stood on
up the Hudson. A gun was brought to bear on
her, and, with some difficulty, loaded and fired
by Hans Van Pelt, the garrison not being expert in artillery. The shot seemed absolutely
to pass through the ship, and skip along the




436        Cates trom ~rving
water on the other side, but no notice was taken
of it! What was strange, she had all her sails
set, and sailed right against wind and tide,
which were both down the river. Upon this
Hans Van Pelt, who was likewise harbor-master,
ordered his boat, and set off to board her; but,
after rowing two or three hours, he returned
without success.  Sometimes be would get
within one or two hundred yards of her, and
then, in a twinkling, she would be half a mile
off. Some said it was because his oarsmen, who
were rather pursy and short-winded, stopped
every now and then to take breath, and spit on
their hands; but this, it is probable, was a mere
scandal. He got near enough, however, to see
the crew, who were all dressed in the Dutch
style, the officers in doublets and high hats and
feathers. Not a word was spoken by any one
on board; they stood as motionless as so many
statues, and the ship seemed as if left to her
own government. Thus she kept on, away up
the river, lessening and lessening in the eveninog sunshine, until she faded from sight, like a
little white cloud melting away in the summer
sky.
The appearance of this ship threw the governor into one of the deepest doubts that ever
beset him in the whole course of his administration. Fears were entertained for the secur



Ub~e Storm=Sbtp


437


ity of the infant settlements on the river lest
this might be an enemy's ship in disguise, sent
to take possession.  The governor called together his council repeatedly to assist him with
their conjectures. He sat in his chair of state,
built of timber from the sacred forest of the
Hague, smoking his long jasmin pipe, and
listening to all that his counsellors had to say
on a subject about which they knew nothing;
but in spite of all the conjecturing of the sagest
and oldest heads, the governor still continued to
doubt.
Messengers were dispatched to different places
on the river; but they returned without any
tidings-the ship had made no port. Day after
day, and week after week, elapsed, but she
never returned down the Hudson. As, however, the council seemed solicitous for intelligence, they had it in abundance. The captains
of the sloops seldom arrived without bringing
some report of having seen the strange ship at
different parts of the river; sometimes near the
Pallisadoes, sometimes off Croton Point, and
sometimes in the highlands; but she never was
reported as having been seen above the highlands. The crews of the sloops, it is true, generally differed among themselves in their accounts of these apparitions; but that may have
arisen from the uncertain situations in which




438        Cales trom Irving
they saw her. Sometimes it was by the flashes
of the thunder-storm lighting up a pitchy night,
and giving glimpses of her careering across
Tapaan Zee, or the wide waste of Haverstraw
Bay. At one moment she would appear close
upon them, as if likely to run them down, and
would throw them into great bustle and alarm;
but the next flash would show her far off, always sailing against the wind. Sometimes, in
quiet moonlight nights, she would be seen under
some high bluff of the highlands, all in deep
shadow, excepting her topsails glittering in the
moonbeams. By the time, however, that the
voyagers reached the place no ship was to be
seen, and when they had passed on for some
distance, and looked back, behold! there she
was again, with her topsails in the moonshine!
Her appearance was always just after, or just
before, or just in the midst of unruly weather,
and she was known among the skippers and
voyagers of the Hudson by the name of "the
storm-ship."
These reports perplexed the governor and
his council more than ever, and it would be
endless to repeat the conjectures and opinions
uttered on the subject. Some quoted cases in
point of ships seen off the coast of New England navigated by witches and goblins. Old
Hans Van Pelt, who had been more than once




:bbe itormzibip


439


to the Dutch colony at the Cape of Good Hope,
insisted that this must be the Flying Dutchman which had so long haunted Table Bay;
but being unable to make port had now sought
another harbor.  Others suggested that if it
really was a supernatural apparition, as there
was every natural reason to believe, it might be
Hendrick Hudson and his crew of the Halfmoon, who it was well known had once run
aground in the upper part of the river in seeking a northwest passage to China. This opinion had very little weight with the governor;
but it passed current out of doors; for indeed it
had already been reported that Hendrick Hudson and his crew haunted the Kaatskill Mountain, and it appeared very reasonable to suppose
that his ship might infest the river where the
enterprise was baffled, or that it might bear the
shadowy crew to their periodical revels in the
mountains.
Other events occurred to occupy the thoughts
and doubts of the sage Wouter and his council,
and the storm-ship ceased to be a subject of deliberation at the board. It continued, however,
a matter of popular belief and marvellous anecdote through the whole time of the Dutch
government, and particularly just before the
capture of New Amsterdam and the subjugation
of the province by the English squadron.




440        calec from 1fring
About that time the storm-ship was repeatedly
seen in the Tappaan Zee, and about Weehawk,
and even down as far as Hoboken; and her
appearance was supposed to be ominous of the
approaching squall in public affairs, and the
downfall of Dutch domination.
Since that time we have no authentic accounts of her, though it is said she still haunts
the highlands, and cruises about Point-nopoint. People who live along the river insist
that they sometimes see her in summer moonlight; and that in a deep still midnight they
have heard the chant of her crew, as if heaving
the lead; but sights and sounds are so deceptive along the mountainous shores, and about
the wide bays and long reaches of this great
river, that I confess I have very strong doubts
upon the subject.
It is certain, nevertheless, that strange things
have been seen in these highlands in storms,
which are considered as connected with the old
story of the ship. The captains of the river
craft talk of a little bulbous-bottomed Dutch
goblin, in trunk-hose and sugar-loafed hat, with
a speaking-trumpet in his hand, which they
say keeps about the Dunderberg.* They declare that they have heard him, in stormy
* I. e., The "Thunder-Mountain," so called from its
echoes.




Cbe 5torm=Sbip           441
weather, in the midst of the turmoil, giving
orders in Low Dutch for the piping up of a
fresh gust of wind, or the rattling off of another
thunder-clap.  That sometimes he has been
seen surrounded by a crew of little imps in
broad breeches and short doublets; tumbling
head-over-heels in the rack and mist, and playing a thousand gambols in the air; or buzzing
like a swarm of flies about Antony's Nose; and
that, at such times, the hurry-scurry of the
storm was always greatest. One time a sloop,
in passing by the Dunderberg, was overtaken
by a thunder-gust, that came scouring round
the mountain, and seemed to burst just over the
vessel. Though tight and well ballasted, she
labored dreadfully, and the water came over the
gunwale. All the crew were amazed when it
was discovered that there was a little white
sugar-loaf hat on the mast-head, known at once
to be the hat of the Heer of the Dunderberg.
Nobody, however, dared to climb to the masthead, and get rid of this terrible hat. The
sloop continued laboring and rocking, as if she
would have rolled her mast overboard, and
seemed in continual danger either of upsetting
or of running on shore. In this way she drove
quite through the highlands, until she had
passed Pollopol's Island, where, it is said, the
jurisdiction of the Dunderberg potentate ceases.




442        Cales fromnl Iring
No sooner had she passed this bourn, than the
little hat spun up into the air like a top, whirled
up all the clouds into a vortex, and hurried them
back to the summit of the Dunderberg; while
the sloop righted herself, and sailed on as quietly as if in a mill-pond. Nothing saved her
from utter wreck but the fortunate circumstance
of having a horseshoe nailed against the mast,
-a wise precaution against evil spirits, since
adopted by all the Dutch captains that navigate
this haunted river.
There is another story told of this foulweather urchin, by Skipper Daniel Ouselsticker,
of Fishkill, who was never known to tell a lie.
He declared that, in a severe squall he saw him
seated astride of his bowsprit, riding the sloop
ashore, full butt against Antony's Nose, and
that he was exorcised by Dominie Van Gieson,
of Esopus, who happened to be on board, and
who sang the hymn of St. Nicholas; whereupon
the goblin threw himself up in the air like a
ball, and went off in a whirlwind, carrying
away with him the nightcap of the dominie's
wife, which was discovered the next Sunday
morning hanging on the weathercock of Esopus church-steeple, at least forty miles off!
Several events of this kind having taken place,
the regular skippers of the river, for a long
time, did not venture to pass the Dunderberg




Cbe!tormi!bitp               443
without lowering their peaks, out of homage to
the Heer of the mountain; and it was observed
that all such as paid this tribute of respect were
suffered to pass unmolested.*
"Such," said Antony Vander Heyden, "are
a few of the stories written down by Selyne the
poet, concerning the storn-ship,-which he
affirms to have brought a crew of mischievous
imps into the province, from some old ghostridden country of Europe. I could give a host
more, if necessary; for all the accidents that so
* Among the superstitions which prevailed in the colonies, during the early times of the settlements, there
seems to have been a singular one about phantom ships.
The superstitious fancies of men are always apt to turn
upon those objects which concern their daily occupations. The solitary ship, which, from yearto year, came
like a raven in the wilderness, bringing to the inhabitants of a settlement the comforts of life from the world
from which they were cut off, was apt to be present to
their dreams, whether sleeping or waking. The accidental sight from shore of a sail gliding along the horizon in those as yet lonely seas, was apt to be a matter of
much talk and speculation. There is mention made in
one of the early New England writers of a ship navigated
by witches, with a great horse that stood by the mainmast. I have met with another story, somewhere, of
a ship that drove on shore, in fair, sunny, tranquil
weather, with sails all set, and a table spread in the
cabin, as if to regale a number of guests, yet not a living
being on board. Thes2 phantom ships always sailed in
the eye of the wind; or ploughed their way with great
velocity, making the smooth sea foam before their bows,
when not a breath of air was stirring.
Moore has finely wrought up one of these legends of
the sea into a little tale, which, within a small compass,
contains the very essence of this species of supernatural
fiction. I allude to his " Spectre Ship," bound to Deadman's Isle.




444        Cales from nrvinl
often befall the river craft in the highlands are
said to be tricks played off by these imps of the
Dunderberg; but I see that you are nodding,
so let us turn in for the night."
The moon had just raised her silver horns
above the round back of Old Bull Hill, and lit
up the gray rocks and shagged forests, and
glittered on the waving bosom of the river. The
night dew was falling, and the late gloomy
mountains began to soften and put on a gray
aerial tint in the dewy light. The hunters
stirred the fire, and threw on fresh fuel to qualify the damp of the night air. They then prepared a bed of branches and dry leaves under a
ledge of rocks for Dolph; while Antony Vander Heyden, wrapping himself in a huge coat
of skins, stretched himself before the fire. It
was some time, however, before Dolph could
close his eyes. He lay contemplating the
strange scene before him: the wild woods and
rocks around; the fire throwing fitful gleams
on the faces of the sleeping savages; and Heer
Antony, too, who so singularly, yet vaguely,
reminded him of the nightly visitant to the
haunted house. Now and then he heard the
cry of some animal fron the forest; or the
hooting of the owl; or the notes of the whippoorwill, which seemed to abound among these
solitudes; or the splash of a sturgeon, leaping




Dolpb lbegltger


445


out of the river and falling back full length on
its placid surface. He contrasted all this with
his accustomed nest in the garret room of the
doctor's mansion;-where the only sounds at
night were the church clock telling the hour;
the drowsy voice of the watchman, drawling
out all was well; the deep snoring of the doctor's clubbed nose from below stairs; or the
cautious labors of some carpenter rat gnawing
in the wainscot. His thoughts then wandered
to his poor old mother; what would she think
of his mysterious disappearance-what anxiety
and distress would she not suffer? This thought
would continually intrude itself to maI his
present enjoyment. It brought with it a feeling of pain and compunction, and he fell asleep
with the tears yet standing in his eyes.
Were this a mere tale of fancy, here would
be a fine opportunity for weaving ill strange
adventures among these wild mountains, and
roving hunters; and, after involving my hero
in a variety of perils and difficulties, rescuing
him from them all by some miraculous contrivance; but as this is absolutely a true story,
I must content myself with simple facts, and
keep to probabilities.
At an early hour of the next day, therefore,
after a hearty morning's meal, the encampment
broke up, and our adventurers embarked in the




4-6         tales fronm ~rvini
pinnace of Antony Vander Heyden. There
being no wind for the sails, the Indians rowed
her gently along keeping time to a kind of
chant of one of the white men. The day was
serene and beautiful; the river without a wave;
and as the vessel cleft the glassy water, it left
a long, undulating track behind. The crows,
who had scented the hunter's banquet, were already gathering and hovering in the air, just
where a column of thin, blue smoke, rising
from among the trees, showed the place of their
last night's quarters. As they coasted along the
bases of the mountains, the Heer Antony pointed out to Dolph a bald eagle, the sovereign of
these regions, who sat perched on a dry tree
that projected over the river, and, with eye
turned upwards, seemed to be drinking in the
splendor of the morning sun. Their approach
disturbed the monarch's meditations. Iie first
spread one wing, and then the other; balanced
himself for a moment; and then, quitting his
perch with dignified composure, wheeled slowly
over their heads. Dolph snatched up a gun,
and sent a whistling ball after him, that cut
some of the feathers from his wing; the report
of the gun leaped sharply from rock to rock,
and awakened a thousand echoes; but the monarch of the air sailed calmly on, ascending higher and higher, and wheeling widely as he ascend



2olpb tbe~liger


447


ed, soaring up the green bosom of the woody
mountain, until he disappeared over the brow of
a beetling precipice. Dolph felt in a manner
rebuked by this proud tranquillity, and almost
reproached himself for having so wantonly insulted that majestic bird.  Heer Antony told
him, laughing, to remember that he wasnot yet
out of the territories of the lord of the Dunderberg; and an old Indian shook his head and
observed that there was bad luck in killing an
eagle; the hunter, on the contrary, should always leave him a portion of his spoils.
Nothing, however, occurred to molest them
on their voyage.   They passed pleasantly
through magnificent and lonely scenes, until
they came to where Pollopol's Island lay, like
a floating bower, at the extremity of the highlands. Here they landed, until the heat of the
day should abate, or a breeze spring up that
might supersede the labor of the oar. Some
prepared the mid-day meal, while others reposed under the shade of the trees in luxurious
summer indolence, looking drowsily forth upon
the beauty of the scene. On the one side were the
highlands, vast and cragged, feathered to the top
with forests, and throwing their shadows on the
glassy water that dimpled at their feet. On the
other side was a wide expanse of the river like
a broad lake, with long sunny reaches, and
V701. I.-29




448        males from Irving
green headlands; and the distant line of Shawangunk mountains waving along a clear horison, or checkered by a fleecy cloud.
But I forbear to dwell on the particulars
of their cruise along the river; this vagrant
amphibious life, careering across silver sheets
of water; coasting wild woodland shores;
banqueting on shady promontories, with the
spreading tree overhead, the river curling its
light foam to one's feet, and distant mountain,
and rock, and tree, and snowy cloud, and deepblue sky, all mingling in summer beauty before
one; all this, though never cloying in the enjoyment, would be but tedious in narration.
When encamped by the water-side, some of
the party would go into the woods and hunt;
others would fish; sometimes they would amuse
themselves by shooting at a mark, by leaping,
by running, by wrestling; and Dolph gained
great favor in the eyes of Antony Vander Heyden, by his skill and adroitness in all these
exercises, which the Heer considered as the
highest of manly accomplishments.
Thus did they coast jollily on, choosing
only the pleasant hours for voyaging, sometimes in the cool morning dawn, sometimes in
the sober evening twilight, and sometimes when
the moonshine spangled the crisp curling waves
that whispered along the sides of their little




5Polpb Ibepliger


449


bark. Never had Dolph felt so completely in
his element; never had he met with any thing
so completely to his taste as this wild, hap-hazard life. He was the very man to second Antony Vander Heyden in his rambling humors,
and gained continually on his affections. The
heart of the old bushwacker yearned toward
the young man, who seemed thus growing up
in his own likeness; and as they approached to
the end of their voyage, he could not help inquiring a little into his history. Dolph frankly
told him his course of life, his severe medical
studies, his little proficiency, and his very dubious prospects. The Heer was shocked to find
that such amazing talents and accomplishments
were to be cramped and buried under a doctor's
wig. He had a sovereign contempt for the
healing art, having never had any other physician than the butcher. He bore a mortal grudge
to all kinds of study also, ever since he had
been flogged about an unintelligible book when
he was a boy. But to think that a young fellow
like Dolph, of such wonderful abilities, who
could shoot, fish, run, jump, ride, and wrestle,
should be obliged to roll pills, and administer
juleps for a living-'t was monstrous! He told
Dolph never to despair, but to " throw physic
to the dogs," for a young fellow of his prodigious talents could never fail to make his way.




450        'ales from ~1rving
" As you seem to have no acquaintance in
Albany," said Heer Antony, "you shall go
home with me, and remain under my roof until
you can look about you, and in the meantime
we can take an occasional bout at shooting and
fishing, for it is a pity that such talents should
lie idle."
Dolph, who was at the mercy of chance, was
not hard to be persuaded. Indeed, on turning
over matters in his mind, which he did very
sagely and deliberately, he could not but think
that Antony Vander Heyden was, " somehow or other," connected with the story of
the haunted house; that the misadventure
in the highlands, which had thrown them
so strangely together, was, "somehow or
other," to work out something good; in short,
there is nothing so convenient as this "somehow or other" way of accommodating one's
self to circumstances; it is the main stay of a
heedless actor, and tardy reasoner, like Dolph
Heyliger; and he who can, in this loose, easy
way, link foregone evil to anticipated good, possesses a secret of happiness almost equal to the
philosopher's stone.
On their arrival at Albany, the sight of
Dolph's companion seemed to cause universal
satisfaction. Many were the greetings at the
riverside, and the salutations in the streets;




Dolpb Ibetlger


451


the dogs bounded before him; the boys whooped
as he passed; everybody seemed to know Antony Vander Heyden. Dolph followed on in
silence, admiring the neatness of this worthy
burgh, for in those days Albany was in all its
glory, and inhabited almost exclusively by the
descendants of the original Dutch settlers, not
having as yet been discovered and colonized by
the restless people of New England.  Every
thing was quiet and orderly; every thing was
conducted calmly and leisurely; no hurry, no
bustle, no struggling and scrambling for existence. The grass grew about the unpaved
streets, and relieved the eye by its refreshing
verdure. Tall sycamores or pendent willows
shaded the houses, with caterpillars swinging,
in long silken strings, from their branches; or
moths, fluttering about like coxcombs, in joy
at their gay transformation. The houses were
built in the old Dutch style, with the gable-ends
towards the street. The thrifty housewife was
seated on a-bench before her door, in closecrimped cap, bright-flowered gown, and white
apron, busily employed in knitting. The husband smoked his pipe on the opposite bench;
and the little pet negro girl, seated on the step
at her mistress's feet, was industriously plyiu,
her needle.  The swallows sported about the
eaves, or skimmed along the streets, and brought




4 5          ale~ ftromn 11 rtnn
back some rich booty for their clamorous young;
and the little housekeeping wren flew in and
out of a Liliputian house, or an old hat nailed
against the wall. The cows were coming home
lowing through the streets, to be milked at
their owner's door; and if, perchance, there
were any loiterers, some negro urchin, with a
long goad, was gently urging them homewards.
As Dolph's companion passed on, he received
a tranquil nod from the burghers, and a friendly
word from their wives, all calling him familiarly
by the name of Antony; for it was the custom
in this stronghold of the patriarchs, where they
had all grown up together from childhood, to
call each other by the Christian name. The
Heer did not pause to have his usual jokes with
them, for he was impatient to reach his home.
At length they arrived at his mansion. It was
of some magnitude, in the Dutch style, with
large iron figures on the gables, that gave the
date of its erection, and showed that it had been
built in the earliest times of the settlement.
The news of Heer Antony's arrival had pre.
ceded him, and the whole household was on the
lookout. A crew of negroes, large and small,
had collected in front of the house to receive
him. The old, white-headed ones,. who had
grown gray in his service, grinned for joy, and
made many awkward bows and grimaces, and




D9olpb 1bep[iger


453


the little ones capered about his knees. But
the most happy being in the household was a
little, plump, blooming lass, his only child, and
the darling of his heart. She came bounding
out of the house; but the sight of a strange
young man with her father called up, for a
moment, all the bashfulness of a home-bred
damsel. Dolph gazed at her with wonder and
delight; never had he seen, as he thought, any
thing so comely in the shape of a woman. She
was dressed in the good old Dutch taste, with
long stars, and full, short petticoats, so admirably adapted to show and set off the female
form. Her hair, turned up under a small round
cap, displayed the fairness of her forehead;
she had fine, blue, laughing eyes, a trim, slender waist, and soft swell-but, in a word, she
was a little Dutch divinity; and Dolph, who
never stopped half-way in a new impulse, fell
desperately in love with her.
Dolph was now ushered into the house with a
hearty welcome. In the interior was a mingled
display of Heer Antony's taste and habits, and
of the opulence of his predecessors. The chambers were furnished with good old mahogany;
the buffets and cupboards glittered with embossed silver and painted china. Over the parlor
fireplace was, as usual, the family coat of arms,
painted and framed; above which was a long




454        calte from Irving
duck fowling-piece, flanked by an Indian pouch,
and a powder-horn. The room was decorated
with many Indian articles, such as pipes of
peace, tomahawks, scalping-knives, huntingpouches, and belts of wampum; and there
were various kinds of fishing-tackle, and two or
three fowling-pieces in the corners. The household affairs seemed to be conducted, in some
measure, after the master's humors; corrected,
perhaps, by a little quiet management of the
daughter's. There was a great degree of patriarchal simplicity, and good-humored indulgence.
The negroes came into the room without being called, merely to look at their master,
and hear of his adventures; they would stand
listening at the door until he had finished a
story, and then go off on a broad grin, to repeat
it in the kitchen. A couple of pet negro children were playing about the floor with the
dogs, and sharing with them their bread and
butter. All the domestics looked hearty and
happy; and when the table was set for the
evening repast, the variety and abundance of
good household luxuries bore testimony to the
open-handed liberality of the Heer, and the
notable housewifery of his daughter.
In the evening there dropped in several of
the worthies of the place, the Van Renssellaers,
and the Gansevoorts, and the Rosebooms, and




Dolpb 1betligcr          455
others of Antony Vander Heyden's intimates, to
hear an account of his expedition; for he was
the Sindbad of Albany, and his exploits and
adventures were favorite topics of conversation
among the inhabitants. While these sat gossiping together about the door of the hall, and
telling long twilight stories, Dolph was cosily
seated, entertaining the daughter, on a windowbench. He had already got on intimate terms;
for those were not times of false reserve and
idle ceremony; and, besides, there is something
wonderfully propitious to a lover's suit in the
delightful dusk of a long summer evening; it
gives courage to the most timid tongue, and
hides the blushes of the bashful. The stars
alone twinkled brightly; and now and then a
fire-fly streamed his transient light before the
window, or, wandering into the room, flew
gleaming about the ceiling.
What Dolph whispered in her ear that long
summer evening, it is impossible to say; his
words were so low and indistinct, that they
never reached the ear of the historian. It is
probable, however, that they were to the purpose; for he had a natural talent at pleasing
the sex, and was never long in company with a
petticoat without paying proper court to it. In
t.he meantime the visitors, one by one, departed; Antony Vander Heyden, who had fairly




456        Ca[el from Irving
talked himself silent, sat nodding alone in his
chair by the door, when he was suddenly aroused
by a hearty salute with which Dolph Heyliger
had unguardedly rounded off one of his periods,
and which echoed through the still chamber
like the report of a pistol. The Heer started
up, rubbed his eyes, called for lights, and observed that it was high time to go to bed;
though, on parting for the night, he squeezed
Dolph heartily by the hand, looked kindly in
his face, and shook his head knowingly; for
the Heer well remembered what he himself had
been at the youngster's age.
The chamber in which our hero was lodged
was spacious, and panelled with oak. It was
furnished with clothes-presses, and mighty
chests of drawers, well waxed, and glittering
with brass ornaments. These contained ample
stock of family linen; for the Dutch housewives had always a laudable pride in showing
off their household treasures to strangers.
Dolph's mind, however, was too full to take
particular note of the objects around him; yet
he could not help continually comparing the
free, open-hearted cheeriness of this establishment with the starveling, sordid, joyless housekeeping at Doctor Knipperhausen's.   Still
something marred the enjoyment: the idea
that he must take leave of his hearty host, and




oltpb lbteltier           457
pretty hostess, and cast himself once more
adrift upon the worll. To linger here would
be folly: he should only get deeper in love;
and for a poor varlet, like himself, to aspire to
the daughter of the great I-eer Vander Heyden
-it was madness to think of such a thing!
The very kindness that the girl had shown
towards him prompted him, on reflection, to
hasten his departure: it would be a poor
return for the frank hospitality of his host to
entangle his daughter's heart in an injudicious
attachment. In a wsord, Dolph was like many
other young reasoners of exceeding good hearts
and giddy heads,-who think after they act,
and act differently from what they think,-who
make excellent determinations overnight, and
forget to keep them the next morning.
"This is a fine conclusion, truly, of my voyage," said he, as he almost buried himself in a
sumptuous feather-bed, and drew the fresh white
sheets up to his chin. " Here am I, instead of
finding a bag of money to carry home, launched
in a strange place, with scarcely a stiver in my
pocket; and, what is worse, have jumped ashore
up to my very ears in love into the bargain.
However," added he, after some pause, stretching himself, and turning himself in bed, " I 'm
in good quarters for the present, at least; so
I'11 e'en enjoy the present moment, and let the




458        dialed from 1[rvino
next take care of itself; I dare say all will work
out, 'somehow or other,' for the best."
As he said these words, he reached out his
hand to extinguish the candle, when he was
suddenly struck with astonishment and dismay,
for he thought he beheld the phantom of the
haunted house, staring on him from a dusky
part of the chamber. A second look reassured
him, as he perceived that what he had taken
for the spectre was, in fact, nothing but a Flemish portrait, hanging in a shadowy corner, just
behind a clothes-press. It was, however, the
precise representation of his nightly visitor.
The same cloak and belted jerkin, the same
grizzled beard and fixed eye, the same broad
slouched hat, with a feather hanging over one
side. Dolph now called to mind the resemblance he had frequently remarked between his
host and the old man of the haunted house;
and was fully convinced that they were in some
way connected, and that some especial destiny
had governed his voyage. He lay gazing on
the portrait with almost as much awe as he had
gazed on the ghostly original, until the shrill
house-clock warned him of the lateness of the
hour. He put out the light; but remained for
a long time turning over these curious circumstances and coincidences in his mind, until he
fell asleep. His dreams partook of the nature




Volpb obeplejr


459


of his waking thoughts. He fancied that he
still lay gazing on the picture, until, by degrees,
it became animated; that the figure descended
from the wall, and walked out of the room;
that he followed it, and found himself by the
well to which the old man pointed, smiled on
him, and disappeared.
In the morning when he waked he found his
host standing by his bedside, who gave him a
hearty morning's salutation, and asked him
how he had slept. Dolph answered cheerily;
but took occasion to inquire about the portrait
that hung against the wall. " Ah," said Heer
Antony, "that's a portrait of old Killian Vander Spiegel, once a burgomaster of Amsterdam,
who, on some popular troubles, abandoned Holland and came over to the province during the
government of Peter Stuyvesant. He was my
ancestor by the mother's side, and an old
miserly curmudgeon he was. When the English took possession of New Amsterdam, in
1664, he retired into the country. He fell into
a melancholy, apprehending that his wealth
would be taken from him and he come to beggary. He turned all his property into cash, and
used to hide it away. He was for a year or two
concealed in various places, fancying himself
sought after by the English to strip him of his
wealth, and finally he was found dead in his




460        Bales from  Irvitng
bed one morning, without any one being able
to discover where he had concealed the greater
part of his money."
When his host had left the room Dolph remained for some time lost in thought. His
whole mind was occupied by what he had
heard. Vander Spiegel was his mother's family
name, and he recollected to have heard her
speak of this very Killian Vander Spiegel as
one of her ancestors. He had heard her say,
too, that her father was Killian's rightful heir,
only that the old man died without leaving
any thing to be inherited. It now appeared that
Heer Antony was likewise a descendant, and
perhaps an heir also of this poor rich man, and
ttthat thus the Heyligers and the Vander Heydens were remotely connected.   "What,"
thought he, "if, after all, this is the interpretation of my dream that this is the way I am to
make my fortune by this voyage to Albany,
and that I am to find the old man's hidden
wealth in the bottom of that well? But what
an odd roundabout mode of communicating the
matter! Why the plague could not the old
goblin have told me about the well at once,
without sending me all the way to Albany to
hear a story that was to send me all the way
back again?"
These thoughts passed through his mind while




Volpb Ibertiger


461


he was dressing.  He descended the stairs, full
of perplexity, when the bright face of Marie
Vander Heyden suddenly beamed in smiles
upon him, and seemed to give him a clue to the
whole mystery. " After all," thought he, "the
old goblin is in the right. If I amn to get his
wealth, he means that I shall marry his pretty
descendant; thus both branches of the family
will again be united, and the property go on in
the proper channel."
No sooner did this idea enter his head than it
carried conviction with it. He was now all inmpatience to hurry back and secure the treasure,
which, he did not doubt, lay at the bottom of
the well, and which he feared every moment
might be discovered by some other person.
"Who knows," thought he, "but this night
walking old fellow of the haunted house may be
in the habit of haunting every visitor, and may
give a hint to some shrewder fellow than myself, who will take a shorter cut to the well
than by the way of Albany?" He wished a
thousand times that the babbling old ghost was
laid in the Red Sea, and his rambling portrait
with him. He was in a perfect fever to depart.
Two or three days elapsed before any opportunity presented for returning down the river.
They were ages to Doiph, notwithstanding that
he was basking in the smiles of the pretty




462          al[es from 1trvino
Marie, and daily getting more and more enamoured.
At length the very sloop from which he had
been knocked overboard prepared to make sail.
Dolph made an awkward apology to his host
for his sudden departure.  Antony Vander
Heyden was sorely astonished. He had concerted half a dozen excursions into the wilderness, and his Indians were actually preparing
for a grand expedition to one of the lakes. He
took Dolph aside, and exerted his eloquence to
get him to abandon all thoughts of business,
and to remain with him; but in vain; and he
at length gave up the attempt, observing "that
it was a thousand pities so fine a young man
should throw himself away." Heer Antony,
however, gave him a hearty shake by the hand
at parting, with a favorite fowling-piece, and
an invitation to come to his house whenever he
revisited Albany. The pretty little Marie said
nothing; but as he gave her a farewell kiss her
dimpled cheek turned pale and a tear stood in
her eye.
Dolph sprang lightly on board of the vessel.
Theyhoisted sail; the wind was fair; they soon
lost sight of Albany, its green hills and embowered islands. They were wafted gayly past
the Kaatskill Mountains, whose fairy heights
were bright and cloudless. They passed pros



5olpb Ibepliger


463


perously through the highlands, without any
molestation from the Dunderberg goblin and
his crew; they swept on across Haverstraw
Bay, and by Croton Point, and through the
Tappaan Zee, and under the Palisadoes, until in
the afternoon of the third day they saw the
promontory of Hoboken hanging like a cloud
in the air, and shortly after the roofs of the
Manhattoes rising out of the water.
Dolph's first care was to repair to his mother's
house; for he was continually goaded by the
idea of the uneasiness she must experience
on his account. He was puzzling his brains, as
he went along, to think how he should account
for his absence without betraying the secrets of
the haunted house. In the midst of these cogitations he entered the street in which his
mother's house was situated, and he was thunderstruck at beholding it a heap of ruins.
There had evidently been a great fire, which
had destroyed several large houses, and the
humble dwelling of poor Dame Heyliger had
been involved in the conflagration. The walls
were not so completely destroyed, but that
Dolph could distinguish some traces of the
scene of his childhood. The fireplace, about
which he had often played, still remained, ornamented with Dutch tiles, illustrating passages
in Bible history, on which he had many a time
Vol. 11-30




464        Caleo trom ~rving
gazed with admiration. Among the rubbish
lay the wreck of the good dame's elbow-chair,
from which she had given him so many a wholesome precept; and hard by it was the family
Bible, with brass clasps; now alas! reduced almost to a cinder.
For a moment Dolph was overcome by this
dismal sight, for he was seized with the fear
that his mother had perished in the flames. He
was relieved, however, from this horrible apprehension by one of the neighbors, who happened
to come by, and informed him that his mother
was yet alive.
The good woman had, indeed, lost everything by this unlooked-for calamity; for the
populace had been so intent upon saving the fine
furniture of her rich neighbors, that the little
tenement, and the little all of poor Dame Heyliger, had been suffered to consume without interruption; nay, had it not been for the gallant
assistance of her old crony, Peter de Groodt,
the worthy dame and her cat might have shared
the fate of their habitation.
As it was she had been overcome with fright
and affliction, and lay ill in body and sick at
heart. The public, however, had showed her
its wonted kindness. The furniture of her rich
neighbors being, as far as possible, rescued from
the flames; themselves duly and ceremoniously




Volpb lbeplitger


465


visited and condoled with on the injury of their
property, and their ladies commiserated on the
agitation of their nerves, the public, at length,
began to recollect something about poor Dame
Heyliger. She forthwith became again a subject
of universal symlpathy; everybody pitied her
more than ever; and if pity could but have
been coined into cash-good Lord! how rich
she would have been!
It was now determined, in good earnest, that
something ought to be done for her without
delay. The dominie, therefore, put up prayers
for her on Sunday, in which all the congregation joined most heartily. Even Cobus Groesbeek, the alderman, and Mynheer Milledollar,
the great Dutch merchant, stood up in their
pews and did not spare their voices on the occasion; and it was thought that the prayers of
such great men could not but have their due
weight.  Doctor Knipperhausen, too, visited
her professionally, and gave her abundance of
advice gratis, and was universally lauded for
charity. As to her old friend, Peter de Groodt,
he was a poor man, whose pity and prayers and
advice could be of but little avail, so he gave her
all that was in his power-he gave her shelter.
To the humble dwelling of Peter de Groodt,
then, did Dolph turn his steps. On his way
thither he recalled all the tenderness and kind



466        Cal{e  from Irving
ness of his simple-hearted parent, her indulgence of his errors, her blindness to his faults;
and then he bethought himself of his own idle,
harum-scarum life. "I 've been a sad scapegrace," said Dolph, shaking his head sorrowfully. "I 've been a complete sink-pocket,
that 's the truth of it.-But," added he briskly, and clasping his hands, " only let her liveonly let her live-and I 'll show myself indeed a
son!"
As Dolph approached the house he met Peter
de Groodt coming out of it.  The old man
started back aghast, doubting whether it was
not a ghost that stood before him. It being
bright daylight, however, Peter soon plucked
up heart, satisfied that no ghost dare show his
face in such clear sunshine. Dolph now learned
from the worthy sexton the consternation and
rumor to which his mysterious disappearance
had given rise. It had been universally believed
that he had been spirited away by those hobgoblin gentry that infested the haunted house;
and old Abraham Vandozer, who lived by the
great buttonwood-trees, near the three-mile
stone, affirmed that he had heard a terrible
noise in the air, as he was going home late at
night, which seemed just as if a flock of wild
geese were overhead, passing off towards the
northward. The haunted house was, in conse



Dolpb Ibepliger          467
quence, looked upon with ten times more awe
than ever; nobody would venture to pass a
night in it for the world, and even the doctor
had ceased to make his expeditions to it in the
daytime.
It required some preparation before Dolph's
return could be made known to his mother, the
poor soul having bewailed him as lost; and her
spirits having been sorely broken down by a
number of comforters, who daily cheered her
with stories of ghosts, and of people carried
away by the devil. He found her confined to
her bed, with the other member of the Heyliger
family, the good dame's cat, purring beside
her, but sadly singed, and utterly despoiled of
those whiskers which were the glory of her
physiognomy. The poor woman threw her
arms about Dolph's neck: " My boy! my boy!
art thou still alive? " For a time she seemed
to have forgotten all her losses and troubles in
her joy at his return. Even the sage grimalkin
showed indubitable signs of joy at the return of
the youngster. She saw, perhaps, that they
were a forlorn and undone family, and felt a
touch of that kindliness which fellow sufferers only know. But, in truth, cats are a slandered people; they have more affection in them
than the world commonly gives them credit
for.




468        Uale  from Irvlng
The good dame's eyes glistened as she saw one
being at least, beside herself, rejoiced at her son's
return. "Tib knows thee! poor dumb beast!"
said she, smoothing down the mottled coat of
her favorite; then recollecting herself, with a
melancholy shake of the head, "Ah, my poor
Dolph! " exclaimed she, " thy mother can help
thee no longer! She can no longer help herself!
What will become of thee, my poor boy?"
"Mother," said Dolph, "don't talk in that
strain; I 've been too long a charge upon you;
it 's now my part to take care of you in your
old days. Come! be of good cheer! you, and I,
and Tib will all see better days. I 'm here, you
see, young, and sound, and hearty; then don't
let us despair; I dare say things will all, somehow or other, turn out for the best."
While this scene was going on with the Heyliger family, the news was carried to Doctor
Knipperhausen of the safe return of his disciple.
The little doctor scarce knew whether to rejoice
or be sorry at the tidings. He was happy at
having the foul reports which had prevailed
concerning his country mansion thus disproved;
but he grieved at having his disciple, of whom
he had supposed himself fairly disencumbered,
thus drifting back, a heavy charge upon his
hands. While balancing between these two
feelings, he was determined by the counsels of




Dolpb tbeo[ller


469


Frau Ilsy, who advised him to take advantage
of the truant absence of the youngster, and shut
the door upon him forever.
At the hour of bedtime, therefore, when it
was supposed the recreant disciple would seek
his old quarters, every thing was prepared for
his reception. Dolph, having talked his mother
into a state of tranquillity, sought the mansion
of his quondam master, and raised the knocker
with a faltering hand. Scarcely, however, had
it given a dubious rap, when the doctor's head,
in a red nightcap, popped out of one window,
and the housekeeper's, in a white nightcap, out
of another. IHe was now greeted with a tremendous volley of hard names and hard language, mingled with invaluable pieces of advice, such as are seldom ventured to be given
except to a friend in distress, or a culprit at the
bar. In a few moments, not a window in the
street but had its particular nightcap, listening
to the shrill treble of Frau Ilsy, and the guttural croaking of Dr. Knipperhausen; and the
word went from window to window: "Ah!
here's Dolph Heyliger come back, and at his
old pranks again." In short, poor Dolph found
he was likely to get nothing from the doctor
but good advice; a commodity so abundant as
even to be thrown out of the window; so he
was fain to beat a retreat, an(d take up his quar



470        Baled from 11rvtng
ters for the night under the lowly roof of honest Peter de Groodt.
The next morning, bright and early, Dolph
was out at the haunted house. Every thing
looked just as he had left it. The fields were
grass-grown and matted, and appeared as if
nobody had traversed them since his departure.
With palpitating heart he hastened to the well.
He looked down into it, and saw that it was of
great depth, with water at the bottom. He had
provided himself with a strong line, such as the
fishermen use on the banks of Newfoundland.
At the end was a heavy plummet and a large
fish-hook. With this he began to sound the
bottom of the well, and to angle about in the
water. The water was of some depth; there
was also much rubbish, stones from the top
having fallen in. Several times his hook got
entangled, and he came near breaking his line.
Now and then, two, he hauled up mere trash,
such as the skull of a horse, an iron hoop, and a
shattered iron-bound bucket. He had now been
several hours employed without finding any
thing to repay his trouble, or to encourage him
to proceed. He began to think himself a great
fool, to be thus decoyed into a wild-goose chase
by mere dreams, and was on the point of throwing line and all into the well, and giving up all
further angling.




5)olpb lbe~lt3e~         47I
"One more cast of the line," said he, "and
that shall be the last." As he sounded, he felt
the plummet slip, as it were, through the interstices of loose stones; and as he drew back the
line, he felt that the hook had taken hold of
something heavy. He had to manage his line
with great caution, lest it should be broken by
the strain upon it. By degrees the rubbish
which lay upon the article he had hooked gave
way; he drew it to the surface of the water, and
what was his rapture at seeing something like
silver glittering at the end of his line! Almost
breathless with anxiety, he drew it up to the
mouth of the well, surprised at its great weight,
and fearing every instant tlhat his hook would
slip from its hold, and his prize tumble again to
the bottom. At length he landed it safe beside
the well. It was a great silver porringer, of an
ancient form, richly embossed, and with armorial bearings engraved on its side, similar to
those over his mother's mantelpiece. The lid
was fastened down by several twists of wire;
Dolph loosened them with a trembling hand,
and, on lifting the lid, behold! the vessel was
filled with broad golden pieces, of a coinage
which he had never seen before! It was evident he had lit on the place where Killian Vander Spiegel had concealed his treasure.
Fearful of being seen by some straggler, he




472        Calee trom 1Irvtng
cautiously retired, and buried his pot of money
in a secret place. He ndw spread terrible stories aboutthe haunted house, and deterred every
one from approaching it, while he made frequent
visits to it in stormy days, when no one was
stirring in the neighboring fields; though, to
tell the truth, he did not care to venture there
in the dark. For once in his life he was diligent and industrious, and followed up his new
trade of angling with such perseverance and
success, that in a little while he had hooked up
wealth enough to make him, in those moderate
days, a rich burgher for life.
It would be tedious to detail minutely the
rest of this story. To tell how he gradually
managed to bring his property into use without
exciting surprise and inquiry,-how he satisfied
all scruples with regard to retaining the property, and at the same time gratified his own
feelings by marrying the pretty Marie Vander
Heyden,-and how le and Heer Antony had
many a merry and roving expedition together.
I must not omit to say, however, that Dolph
took his mother home to live with him, and
cherished her in her old days. The good dame,
too, had the satisfaction of no longer hearing
her son made the theme of censure; on the
contrary, he grew daily in public esteem;
everybody spoke well of him and his wines;




2Dolpb tberliger         473
and the lordliest burgomaster was never known
to decline his invitation to dinner. Dolph often related, at his own table, the wicked pranks
which had once been the abhorrence of the
town; but they were now considered excellent
jokes, and the gravest dignitary was fain to
hold his sides when listening to them. No one
was more struck with Dolph's ncrincreasing merit
than his old master the doctor; and so forgiving was Dolph, that he absolutely employed
the doctor as his family physician, only taking
care that his prescriptions should be always
thrown out of the window. His mother had.often her junto of old cronies to take a snug cup
of tea with her in her comfortable little parlor;
and Peter de Groodt, as he sat by the fireside,
with one of her grandchildren on his knee,
would many a time congratulate her upon her
son turning out so great a man, upon which the
good old soul would wag her head with exultation, and exclaim: "Ah, nihr neighbor, eihbor!
did I not say that Dolph would one day or other
hold up his head with the best of them? "
Thus did Dolph Heyliger go on, cheerily
and prosperously, growing merrier as he grew
older and wiser, and completely falsifying the
old proverb about money got over the Devil's
back, for he made good use of his wealth, and
became a distinguished citizen, and a valuable




474         Cales from 1Irvitn
member of the community. He was a great
promoter of public institutions, such as beefsteak societies and catch-clubs. He presided at
all public dinners, and was the first that introduced turtle from the West Indies. He improved the breed of race-horses and game-cocks,
and was so great a patron of modest merit that
any one who could sing a good song, or tell a
good story, was sure to find a place at his table.
He was a member, too, of the corporation,
made several laws for the protection of game
and oysters, and bequeathed to the board a
large silver punch-bowl, made out of the identical porringer before mentioned, and which is
in the possession of the corporation to this day
Finally, he died, in a florid old age, of ai
apoplexy at a corporation feast, and was buried
with great honors in the yard of the little
Dutch church in Garden Street, where his
tombstone may still be seen with a modest epitaph in Dutch, by his friend Mynheer Justus
Benson, an ancient and excellent poet of the
province.
The foregoing tale rests on better authority
than most tales of the kind, as I have it at
second-hand from the lips of Dolph Heyliger
himself. He never related it till towards the
latter part of his life, and then in great confi
dence (for he was very discreet), to a few of his




D0olpb lb1eplier          475
particular cronies at his own table, over a supernumerary bowl of punch; and, strange as the
hobgoblin parts of the story may seem, there
never was a single doubt expressed on the subject by any of his guests. It may not be amiss,
before concluding, to observe that, in addition
to his other accomplishments, Dolph Heyliger
was noted for being the ablest drawer of the
long-bow in the whole province.
THE END.




I




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with quaint illustrations, evidently taken from tie author's
own handiwork."-RlocesLter / osf-ExJrcs.v.




IV         1Rnichcrbochcr 1Rugets
XI-Irish Melodies and Songs.          By THOMAS
MOORE. Illustrated by MACLISE..    $I 50
" The latest issue is a collection of Thomas Moore's ' Irish
Melodies and Songs,' fully and excellently illustrated, with
cach page of the text printed within an outline border of
appropriate green tint, embellished with emblems and figures
fitting the text."-Boston Times.
XII-Undine and Sintram. By DE LA MIOTTE
FOUQUE.    Illustrated....    $r oo
"' Undine and Sintram ' are the latest issue, bound in one
volume. They are of the size classics should be-pocket
volumes,-and nothing more desirable is to be found anmong
the new editions of old treasures."-Sanz aosde lercury.
XIII-The Essays of Elia. By CHARLES
LAMB.    Two vols...    $2 oo
"The genial essayist himself could have dreamed of no
more beautiful setting than the Putnams have given the Essays of E/in by printing them among their Knickerbocker
Nuggets."-Chizcago Advance.
XIV-Tales       from  the   Italian   Poets.   By
LEIGH HUNT.      Two vols....    $2 oo
" The perfection of artistic bookmaking."-San Francisco
Chronicle.
" This work is most delightful literature, which finds a fitting place in this collection, bound in volumes of striking
beauty."- Troy Times.
"Hunt had just that delightful knowledge of the Italian
poets that one would most desire for oneself, together with
an exquisite style of his own wherein to make his presentation
of them to English readers perfect."-iNew York Critic.
The first series, comprising the foregoing
eighteen volumes, in handsome case,         $19.00




nticherbocher Iluggets                  v
XV.-Thoughts of the Emperor Marcus
Aurelius   Antoninus,      Translated   by  GEORGE
LONG.......    $I 00
" The thoughts of the famous Roman are worthy of a new
introduction to the army of readers through a volume so
dainty and pleasing."-Intelligencer.
"As a booh for hard study, as a book to inspire reverie, as
a book for five minutes or an hour, it is both delightful and
profitable."-Journal of Education.
"It is an interesting little book, and we feel indebted to the
translator for this presentation of his work."-Presbyterian.
XVI.-,Esop's Fables.        Rendered chiefly from
original sources.  By Rev. TIIoMNAS JAMES, M.-A.
With 100 illustrations of J-)I-N TENNIELL. $I 25
" It is wonderful the hold these parables have had upon
the human attention; told to children, and yet of no less
interest to men and women."-Chautauquza Herald.
" For many a long day nothing has been thought out or
worked out so sure to prove entirely pleasing to cultured
book-lovers."- T'he Bookmaker.
" These classic studies adorned with morals were never
more neatly prepared for the public eye."-The Milwaukee
IVisconsin.
XVII.-Ancient Spanish Ballads. Historic
and Romantic.    Translated, with notes, by J. G.
IOCKHART.     Reprinted from    the revised edition
of I84I, with 6o illustrations by ALLAN, ROBERTS;
SIMSON, AWARREN, AtIBREY, and HIARIVEY.,I 50
" A mass of popular poetry which has never yet received
the attention to which it is entitled."-Boston 7ournal of
Education.
" The historical and artistic settings of these mediawval
poetic gemrs enhance the value and attractiveness of the
book."-'Ba.il'falo Cjiz rni(ce A dvocate.




vi       Iknickerbochker Rugsets
XVIII.-The Wit and Wisdom of Sydney
Smith. A selection of the most memorable passages in his Writings and Conversations.  $I oo
XIX.-The Ideals of the Republic; or,
Great Words from Great Americans. Comprising:-" The Declaration of Independence, I776."
" The Constitution of the United States, I779."
Washington's Circular Letter, 1783," etc.  $I oo
XX.-Selections from Thomas De Quincey.
Comprising:-" On Murder Considered as One of
the Fine Arts." "Three Memorable Murders."
' The Spanish Nun."....   $I oo
XXI.-Tales by Heinrich Zschokke. Comprising: —" A New Year's Eve."  "The Broken
Pitcher."  "Jonathan Frock."  "A Walpurgis
Night."  Translated by PARKE GODWIN and
WILLIAM P. PRENTICE...   $ 00
XXII.-American War Ballads. A selection
of the more noteworthy of the Ballads -and Lyrics
which were produced during the Revolution, the
War of I812, the Mexican War, and the Civil War.
Edited, with notes, by GEO. CARY EGGLESTON.
With original illustrations. Two vols..  $2 50
XXIII.-The Autobiography of Benjamin
Franklin. Edited, with notes, by John BIGELOW.......   $I 00
XXIV.-Songs of Fairy Land. Compiled by
EDWARD T. MASON, with illustrations from designs
lby MAUD HUUMPHREY....   $I 25




1Rnicherbocker 1Ru0gets         vii
XXV.-Sesame and Lilies. By JOHN RusKIN......               00
XXVI.-The Garden, as considered in literature
by certain polite writers. Edited by WALTER HIOW)E,
with portrait of William Kent..   $r oo
XXVII.-The Boyhood and Youth of Goethe.
Comprising the first thirteen books of his Autobiography (Truth and Poetry from  my own Life).
Two vols.......   $2 oc
XXVIII.-The Sayings of Poor Richard.
Being the Prefaces, Proverbs, and Poems of Benjamin Franklin, originally printed in Poor Richard's
Almanacs for I733-J758. Collected and Edited by
PAUL I. FORD. With portrait of Franklin. $r oo
XXIX.-Love Poems of Three Centuries.
Compiled by JESSIE F. O'DONNELL. Two vols. $2 oo
XXX.-Chesterfield's    Letters.   Si:coND
SERIES. Letters of Philip Dormer, Fourth Earl of
Chesterfield, to his (odson and Successor. Now
first edited from the originals, with a MIemoir of
Lord Chesterfield by the Earl of Carnarvon. With
portraits and illustrations. Two vols..  $2 oo
XX   I.-Representative Irish Stories  Compiled, with Introduction and Notes, by W. B. VE'\TS.
Two vols.......    2 oo
XXXII.-French Ballads.      Printed in the
original text.  Edited by Prof. T. F. CRANE.
Illustrated.......       50
G. P. PI:''NAM'S SONS, PUBLISHERS
New York and London








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