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ing by the people, General Saxton made a short, but spirited speech, urging the young men to enlist in the regiment then forming under Colonel Higginson. Mrs. Gage told the people how the slaves in Santa Cruz had secured their liberty. It was something entirely new and strange to them to hear a woman speak m public; but they listened with great attention, and seemed much interested, Before dispersing, they sang "Marching Along," which is an especial favorite with them. It was a very happy Thanksgiving-Day for all of us. The weather was delightful; oranges and figs were hanging on the trees; roses, oleanders, and japonicas were blooming out-ofdoors; the sun was warm and bright; and over all shone gloriously the blessed light of Freedom,—Freedom forevermore!
One night, L. and I were roused from our slumbers by what seemed to us loud and most distressing shrieks, proceeding from the direction of the negro-houses. Having heard of one or two attempts which the Rebels had recently made to land on the island, our first thought was, naturally, that they had forced a landing, and were trying to carry off some of the people. Every moment we expected to hear them at our doors; and knowing that they had sworn vengeance against all the superintendents and teachers, we prepared ourselves for the worst. After a little reflection, we persuaded ourselves that it could not be the Rebels; for the people had always assured us, that, in case of a Rebel attack, they would come to us at once, — evidently thinking that we should be able to protect them. But what could the shrieks mean? They ceased; then, a few moments afterwards, began again, louder, more fearful than before; then again they ceased, and all was silent . I am ashamed to confess that we had not the courage to go out and inquire into the cause of tne alarm. Mr. H.'s room was in another part of the house, too far for him to give us any aid. We hailed the dawn of day gladly enough, and eagerly sought Cupid,—who was sure
to know everything,—to obtain fro» him a solution of the mystery. "Why, you was n't .scared at dot ?" he exclaimed, in , great amusement; " 't was n't nuttin' but de black sogera dat comed up to see der folks on t' oder side ob de creek. Dar was n't no boat fur 'em on dis side, so dey jus' blowed de whistle dey hab, so de folks might bring one ober fur 'em. Dat was all 't was." And Cupid laughed so heartily that we felt not a little ashamed of our fears. Nevertheless, we both maintained that we had never seen a whistle from which could be produced sounds so startling, so distressing, so perfectly like the shrieks of a human being.
Another night, while staying at a house some miles distant from ours, I was awakened by hearing, as I thought, some one trying to open the door from without. The door was locked; I lay perfectly still, and listened intently. A few moments elapsed, and the sound was repeated ; whereupon I rose, and woke Miss W., who slept in the adjoining room. We lighted a candle, took our revolvers, and seated ourselves on the bed, keeping our weapons, so formidable in practised male hands, steadily pointed towards the door, and uttering dire threats against the intruders,—presumed to be Rebels,of course. Having maintained this tragical position for some time, and hearing no further noise, we began to grow sleepy, and extinguished our candle, returned to bed, and slept soundly till morning. But that mystery remained unexplained. I was sure that the door had been tried,—there could be no mistaking it. There was not the least probability that any of the people had entered the house, burglars are unknown on these islands, and there is nobody to be feared but the Rebels,
The last and greatest alarm we had was after we had removed from Oaklanda to another plantation. I woke about two o'clock in the morning, hearing the tramp of many feet in the yard below, — the steady tramp of soldiers' feet . "The Rebels! they have come at last! all is over with us now!" I thought at once, with a desperate kind of resignation. And I lay
still, yaiting and listening. Soon I heard footsteps on the piazza; then the halldoor was opened, and steps were heard distinctly in the hall beneath; finally, I heard some one coming up the stairs. Then I grasped my revolver, rose, and woke the other ladies.
"There are soldiers in the yard! Somebody has opened the hall-door, and is coming up-stairs!"
Poor L., but half awakened, stared at me in speechless terror. The same thought filled our minds. But Mrs. B., after listening for a moment, exclaimed, —
"Why, that is my husband! I know his footsteps. He is coming up - stairs to call me."
And so it proved. Her husband, who was a lieutenant in Colonel Montgomery's regiment, had come up from camp with some of his men to look after deserters. The door had been unfastened by a servant who on that night happened to deep in the house. I shall never forget the delightful sensation of relief that came over me when the whole matter was explained. It was almost overpowering; for, although I had made up my mind to bear the worst, and bear it bravely, the thought of falling into the bands of the Rebels was horrible in the extreme. A year of intense mental suffering seemed to have been compressed into those few moments.
A LEGEND OF PORNIC.
Oh, the beautiful girl, too white,
Who lived at Pornic, down by the sea,
Just where the sea and the Loire unite!
She bore, which I will not write.
Too white, for the flower of life is red;
Her flesh was the soft, seraphic screen
To just see earth, and hardly be seen,
Yet earth saw one thing, one how fair!
One grace that grew to its full on earth:
And her waist want half a girdle's girth,
Hair, such a wonder of flix and floss,
Gold did I say? Nay, gold's mere dross.
And Love sighed, "Fancy my loss I"
So, when she died, it was scarce more strange
And you follow its spent sun's pallid range,
That, while the breath was nearly to seek,
She changed; a spot came out on her cheek,
And she broke forth, "I must speak!"
"Not my hair!" made the girl her moan ; —
"AH the rest is gone, or to go;
Let it stay in the grave, that the ghosts may know!
The passion thus vented, dead lay she.
Her parents sobbed their worst on that;
For, indeed, the hair was to wonder at,
But curled around her brow, like a crown,
And calmed about her neck, — ay, down
I- the gold, it reached her gown.
All kissed that face, like a silver wedge
E'en the priest allowed death's privilege,
On her breast, 'twixt edge and edge.
And thus was she buried, inviolate
Of body and soul, in the very space
In Pornic church, for her pride of race,
And in after-time would your fresh tear fall,
Though your mouth might twitch with a dubious smile, As they told you of gold both robe and pall,
How she prayed them leave it alone awhile, So it never was touched at all. •
Tears flew; this legend grew at last
The life of the lady; all she had done,
Of lover and friend, was summed in one
To wit, she was meant for heaven, not earth;
Had turned an angel before the time: Yet, since she was mortal, in such dearth
Of frailty, all you could count a crime Was — she knew her gold hair's worth.
At little pleasant Pornic church,
Was taken to pieces: left in the lurch,
And the boys began research.
"!' was the space where our sires would lay a saint,
A benefactor, — a bishop, suppose;
A dame with chased ring and jewelled rose,
So we come to find them in after-days,
When the corpse is presumed to have done with gauds, Of use to the living, in many ways;
For the boys get pelf, and the town applauds,
They grubbed with a will: and at length — 0 cor
They found — no gauds they were prying for,
A double Louis-d'or I
Here was a case for the priest: he heard,
Marked, inwardly digested, laid Finger on nose, smile.d, " A little bird
Chirps in my ear I" —then, "Bring a spade,
And lo! when they came to the coffin-lid,
Why, there lay the girl's skull wedged amid
To hold in its hair-heaps hid:
Louis-d'ors, some six times five;
And duly double, every piece.
With parents preventing her soul's release
With heaven's gold gates about to ope, —
With friends' praise, gold-like, lingering still, — What instinct had bidden the girl's hand grope For gold, the true sort ? — " Gold in heaven, I hope; But I keep earth's, if God will!"
Enough! flThe priest took the grave's grim yield:
The parents, they eyed-that price of sin As if thirty pieces lay revealed
On the place to bury strangers in, The hideous Potter's Field.
But the priest bethought him: "' Milk that 'a spilt'
— You know the adage l Watch and pray I Saints tumble to earth with so slight a tilt I
It would build a new altar; that we may I" And the altar therewith was built.
Why I deliver this horrible verse?
As the text of a sermon, which now I preach: Evil or good may be better or worse
In the human heart, but the mixture of each Is a marvel and a curse.
The candid incline to surmise of late
That the Christian faith may be false, I find;
For our Essays-and-Reviews' debate
And Colenso'a words have weight:
I still to suppose it true, for my part,
'T is the faith that launched point-blank her dart
The Corruption of Man's Heart.