No More Learning

Each one, from the greatest to the least, went forward to kiss
grandpapa's and grandmamma's hand. They bent and they
bowed, and most of the inhabitants of the land now vied with
each other with all their might of soul and body, with internal
and external senses, to see who should most please their first
parents. For it may be believed it was no joke to be able to
joice them with their excellence, now, some five thousand years
after their death, and to put in their minds the thought, "See,
Adam, what a son you have! " "See, Eve, what a daughter! " etc.
Adam, who honored the first creation, and loved nature's
activity, which tolerates no compulsions or additions, was amazed
when he saw his children, for he did not know half of them.
"Where have they come from? " said he. "They are never
mine, unless forsooth there shall have been a new creation, in


## p. 4281 (#43) ############################################

OLOF VON DALIN
4281
the overseeing of which neither God nor I has had a part. " Eve
had indeed been proud of so many offspring, but was somewhat
abashed at these words, and said, "I should fear, sire, that you
made me out an indifferent, woman, if all did not know that we
were alone in our conjugal state. " "Well enough is it web of
my weft," he answered, "but the children so disguise themselves
in their attempt to please, that they lose all the charm which a
spontaneous activity should otherwise most easily possess. Yet
what am I saying? I readily see that our fall is the reason of
this and of many disorders. " "It seems to me," said Eve, "that
you should have a review, and teach the poor children how they
should conduct themselves so as not to continue in so monstrous
a condition. "
Well, this was arranged, and all were now to pass before
the eye of Adam, whether they had changed themselves or not.
He had seated himself on a wall of earth, and all the liberal
arts stood round about him. "Dear children," said he to his
offspring, "come forward now, in order that I may see how
you conduct yourselves. The inordinate desire of honor is the
reason for this new creation,- which does not however seek the
honor of the great Creator, but your own. " When any of his
children came forward who without affectation lisped their ten-
der thoughts, they were kissed with tears by the old man and
matron, who said that nature in them was not restrained, and
wished that they might henceforth continue in such freedom.
"Behold, this," said they, "produces pleasure, without you your-
selves knowing it; and this is the kernel of the art of pleasing. '
Many court worshipers and people of the upper ranks of life,
where ambition takes firmest hold of the body, also went for-
ward, who for the most part had so well exercised themselves in
appearances that they seemed neither in action nor word to be
affected. These too won tolerably well, in this way, the com-
mendation of the old people. Yet there were some of them who
particularly thought to please kings and princes, who took upon
themselves a more zealous appearance than they had inherited,
and bore their bodies in greater state than birth had given them,
beneath costly garments arrayed in precise order, so that they
by this means spoiled all their beauty; for Adam had only aver-
sion for such artificial figures.
>>
But what he did not have in them, he did have in a part of
those who followed. These were people of ordinary condition


## p. 4282 (#44) ############################################

4282
OLOF VON DALIN
in
who vied with the first, indeed with their own natures,
acquiring charm. When these latter had noticed that the people
of rank had some fault or peculiar manner, then straightway
seized by this wretched desire of honor, they wished at least to
resemble the great in bagatelles. Some set one or two wrinkles
on their foreheads; some, a particular expression about the
mouth; some lisped or stammered purposely, and introduced
extraordinary sounds into their speech; some affected strange
laughter; some had a wonderful bend of the shoulders; some a
simulated walk; some gave themselves political or statistical
features, etc. , etc. ; and all directly opposed to their otherwise
natural manner. "Yes, I can tell you right straight out," said
Adam; "I have not a little esteem for you: but listen, I will
tell you a little story. It has been told me that my famous son,
Alexander the Great, once upon a time twisted his neck out of
joint, so that he was obliged to walk with his head somewhat
awry. Straightway were all of his lords and his courtiers moved
to walk in the same manner, especially before his eyes, with the
thought of pleasing him exceedingly. But among those who,
whether out of zeal for their master or of love for themselves,
would particularly be like the king, one twisted his neck so
badly that his valiant prince, grown angry at such buffoonery,
gave him so heavy a blow that the cuff set the heads right
again of the whole court and army. If I were able now, I
would certainly deal out many an affectionate blow to remedy
all the evil habits with which you think to please me. "
(I wish that Argus had to-day the same smart as a box on
the ear, for we saw this morning many affected cripples as
sound and active as when they came into the world. )
"A part of you," continued Adam, "I notice, compel your-
selves to limp and stoop very seriously and with great discom-
fort on canes, as if twenty-year-old legs were already afflicted
with the rich man's sickness. But if some one took the canes
and taught the young to spring, he would do rightly. Do you
think it is no advantage to have good legs? If you think in
this manner to imitate celebrated people, as has been said, then
you shall know that it often offends him who is aped as much
as it disfigures the ape himself. ”
Many of our women who daily vie with each other for
the possession of the greatest charm came forward, with the
idea that the old people's hearts would be rejoiced with their


## p. 4283 (#45) ############################################

OLOF VON DALIN
4283
comeliness. But that did not fall out well, since the one made
a grimace by setting her mouth in a churchly manner; the other
changed her features in that she wished to show her beautiful
teeth; the third turned her eyes so strangely that she both
blinked and squinted; the fourth had given herself a beautiful
skin with ingredients from the apothecary's shop; the fifth as-
sumed a fatigued gait; the sixth purposely appeared somewhat
ill and languid. A pastor's wife forced her mild countenance
into a scornful mien; a burgher's wife sweetened her mouth
with ill-pronounced French words, and kept her body immovable
because of her beautiful clothes; a merchant's daughter could
think of nothing else than to bow; another maiden twisted her
face over both shoulders with a stiff glance, etc. , etc. : so that
Eve said: "What is this? Will you please me with force? Ah,
foolish women, if you wish truly to please, then you should not
think of it. Such a thing must come to you unwittingly. "
When Eve said this, some men lamented the vanity and ele-
gant frivolity of a part of the women; but they were brought
up sharply, for Adam said:-"Will you now again transform
nature, and make that into heaviness which is created for your
pleasure and refreshing help? It befits you, it may be, better
than that to be ill-favored. If any of you are born to serious-
ness, then it well becomes that one that she is so; but if you
desire that others shall be like you and bother themselves with
your thoughts, then is that ill-conceived. For example, a woman
may indeed amuse herself with books and little acts of clever-
ness; but if she makes study her trade, then she becomes a
pedant. "
The malcontents, however, complained again that their mis-
tresses desired that men should resemble them in all things
except in sex, and hold them otherwise wholly as women. But
Adam replied:-"If you are such fools, then shall you have
advice. I see many gallants who readily undergo such a trans-
formation, but that accords with their nature as does clay with
straw, and surely an intelligent woman does not like it herself. "
Further, Adam said:-"Now I must laugh! Look at that
bashful youth yonder in the crowd, who is so fearful of sinning
against the customs of affectation that he does not know how he
shall hold his hands. Now he sticks them here, and now there.
When he bows, he looks back with perplexity at all to see if he
did rightly. "


## p. 4284 (#46) ############################################

4284
OLOF VON DALIN
At that moment there came forward some scholars and poets,
who with references presented their works and verses, some of
which they read. But Adam said:-"Children, you were born.
to be shoemakers. You had understood awls better than pens.
At a trade you had wrought out profit and pleasure, but not
in study. Endowments are of many kinds, and every one must
consider which of them he has received. "
Thereupon some of the clergy came forward with soft steps,
wholly assured that they would receive a caress from the old
man for every time they had named him in their sermons. But
when the pretended pious went along, he became straightway
displeased. What should there avail the measured-out words, and
the forced high-flown delivery, filled with roses without fragrance!
Suppose that he had seen some of them in the pulpit with their
comedian affectations, or how unbecomingly they threw them-
selves and moved about there! Adam said shortly to them.
"Such nonsense is unnecessary in your sacred office. " In this
consisted the whole caress.
It is impossible for me to remember or to be able to describe
all of those who at this time disgraced themselves before father
Adam and mother Eve. This I know, that Japhet's grandsire
pronounced this word of admonition:- "My descendants," said
he, "let it be fairly seen that you do not so badly disfigure your-
selves as you have hitherto done. Let not the one take the
other's talent and decry his own. Prove yourselves what char-
acter you own and abide with it; so shall you mark in each
other that there is not one who is not made pleasing in his way,
if it be rightly used. A surly man may be agreeable even in
his surliness, and so on. Moreover, everyone shall give himself
to the service in the state to which he is fallen, and shall not,
eager of honor, offer violence to nature, of which I see among
you so many examples that I just now Coughing deprived
the old man of words, so that he stopped short, and straightway,
as may be believed, the whole crowd made grimace upon grimace
and laughed at him. The poor old couple were glad to get away
from Tielkestad and lay themselves in their graves. So it went
with the assemblage. Yes, believe me, surely. He who will tell
the truth appears at times like a hen on a perch in windy
weather.
>>>
-
Translation of William H. Carpenter.


## p. 4285 (#47) ############################################

4285
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
(1787-1879)
ICHARD HENRY DANA the elder, although he died less than
twenty years ago, belonged to the first generation of
American writers; he was born in 1787, in Cambridge, four
years after Washington Irving. He came of a distinguished and
scholarly family: his father had been minister to Russia during the
Revolution, and was afterwards Chief Justice of Massachusetts;
through his mother he was descended from Anne Bradstreet. At the
age of ten he went to Newport to live with his maternal grand-
father, William Ellery, one of the signers
of the Declaration of Independence, and
remained until he entered Harvard. The
wild rock-bound coast scenery impressed
him deeply, and ever after the sea was one
of his ruling passions. Only one familiar
with all the moods of the ocean could have
written The Buccaneer. ' After quitting
college he studied law, and was admitted
to the Boston bar. Literature however
proved the stronger attraction, and in 1818
he left his profession to assist in conducting
the then newly founded North American
Review. The critical papers he contributed
to it startled the conservative literary circles by their audacity in
defending the new movement in English poetry, and passing lightly
by their idol Pope. Indeed, his unpopularity debarred him from suc-
ceeding the first editor. He withdrew, and began the publication of
The Idle Man in numbers, modeled on Salmagundi and the Sketch-
Book. His contributions consisted of critical papers and his novel-
ettes Paul Felton, Tom Thornton,' and 'Edward and Mary. ' Not
finding many readers, he discontinued it after the first volume. He
then contributed for some years to the New York Review, conducted
by William Cullen Bryant, and to the United States Review. In
1827 appeared 'The Buccaneer and Other Poems'; in 1833 the same
volume was enlarged and the contributions to The Idle Man were
added, under the title 'Poems and Prose Writings. ' Seventeen years
later he closed his literary career by publishing the complete edi-
tion of his 'Poems and Prose Writings,' in two volumes, not having
RICHARD H. DANA



## p. 4286 (#48) ############################################

4286
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
materially added either to his verse or fiction. After that time he
lived in retirement, spending his summers in his seaside home by
the rocks and breakers of Cape Ann, and the winters in Boston. He
died in 1879.
Dana's literary activity falls within the first third of this century.
During that period, unproductive of great work, he ranked among the
foremost writers. His papers in the North American Review, as the
first original criticism on this side of the Atlantic, marked an era in
our letters. He was
one of the first to recognize the genius of
Wordsworth and of Coleridge; under the influence of the latter he
wrote the poem by which he is chiefly known, The Buccaneer. ' He
claimed for it a basis of truth; it is in fact a story out of 'The
Pirate's Own Book,' with the element of the supernatural added to
convey the moral lesson. His verse is contained in a slender vol-
ume. It lacks fluency and melody, but shows keen perception of
Nature's beauty, especially in her sterner, more solemn moods, and
sympathy with the human heart. Dana was not so much a poet
born with the inevitable gift of song (he would otherwise not have
become almost silent during the last fifty years of his life), as a man
of strong intellect who in his youth turned to verse for recreation.
Though best known by his poems, he stands out strongest and
most original as novelist. 'Paul Felton,' his masterpiece in prose, is
a powerful study of a diseased condition of mind. In its searching
psychologic analysis it stands quite apart from the more or less flac-
cid production of its day. He indeed could not escape the influence
of Charles Brockden Brown, whom he greatly admired, and he in
turn reached out forward toward Poe and other writers of the
analytic school. One powerful story of Poe's, indeed, seems to have
been suggested by Dana's work: the demon horse in Metzenger-
stein' is a superior copy of the Spectre Horse in The Buccaneer. '
These stories were not popular in his day: they are too remote from
ordinary life, too gloomy and painful; they have no definite locality
or nationality; their characters have little in common with every-day
humanity. His prose style however is clear, direct, and strong.
Even after he ceased to write, he had an important influence on
American letters by the independence of his opinions, his friendships
with literary men, chief among whom was Bryant, and his live
interest in the younger literature produced under conditions more
favorable and more inspiring than he had known.


## p. 4287 (#49) ############################################

RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4287
THE ISLAND
From The Buccaneer
HE Island lies nine leagues away,
Along its solitary shore
Of craggy rock and sandy bay,
No sound but ocean's roar,
Save where the bold wild sea-bird makes her home,
Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam.
THE
But when the light winds lie at rest,
And on the glassy, heaving sea,
The black duck with her glossy breast
Sits swinging silently,
How beautiful! no ripples break the reach.
And silvery waves go noiseless up the beach.
And inland rests the green, warm dell;
The brook comes tinkling down its side;
From out the trees the Sabbath bell
Rings cheerful, far and wide,
Mingling its sound with bleatings of the flocks
That feed about the vale among the rocks.
Nor holy bell nor pastoral bleat
In former days within the vale;
Flapped in the bay the pirate's sheet;
Curses were on the gale;
Rich goods lay on the sand, and murdered men:
Pirate and wrecker kept their revels then.
But calm, low voices, words of grace,
Now slowly fall upon the ear;
A quiet look is in each face,
Subdued and holy fear.
Each motion gentle; all is kindly done -
Come, listen how from crime this Isle was won.


## p. 4288 (#50) ############################################

4288
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
THE DOOM OF LEE
From The Buccaneer
HO'S sitting on that long black ledge
Which makes so far out in the sea,
Feeling the kelp-weed on its edge?
Poor idle Matthew Lee!
WHO'S
So weak and pale? A year and little more.
And bravely did he lord it round this shore!
And on the shingles now he sits,
And rolls the pebbles 'neath his hands;
Now walks the beach; then stops by fits,
And scores the smooth wet sands;
Then tries each cliff and cove and jut that bounds
The isles; then home from many weary rounds.
They ask him why he wanders so,
From day to day, the uneven strand?
"I wish, I wish that I might go!
But I would go by land;
And there's no way that I can find -I've tried
All day and night! " He seaward looked, and sighed.
It brought the tear to many an eye
That once his eye had made to quail.
"Lee, go with us; our sloop is nigh;
Come! help us hoist her sail. "
He shook. -"You know the Spirit Horse I ride!
He'll let me on the sea with none beside! "
He views the ships that come and go,
Looking so like to living things.
O! 'tis a proud and gallant show
Of bright and broad-spread wings,
Making it light around them, as they keep
Their course right onward through the unsounded deep.
And where the far-off sand-bars lift
Their backs in long and narrow line,
The breakers shout, and leap, and shift,
And send the sparkling brine
Into the air, then rush to mimic strife:
Glad creatures of the sea, and full of life! -


## p. 4289 (#51) ############################################

RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4289
But not to Lee. He sits alone;
No fellowship nor joy for him.
Borne down by woe, he makes no moan,
Though tears will sometimes dim
That asking eye-oh, how his worn thoughts crave—
Not joy again, but rest within the grave.
To-night the charmèd number's told.
"Twice have I come for thee," it said.
"Once more, and none shall thee behold.
Come! live one, to the dead! "—
So hears his soul, and fears the coming night;
Yet sick and weary of the soft calm light.
Again he sits within that room;
All day he leans at that still board;
None to bring comfort to his gloom,
Or speak a friendly word.
Weakened with fear, lone, haunted by remorse,
Poor shattered wretch, there waits he that pale Horse.
Not long he waits. Where now are gone
Peak, citadel, and tower, that stood
Beautiful, while the west sun shone
And bathed them in his flood
Of airy glory! - Sudden darkness fell;
And down they went,-peak, tower, citadel.
The darkness, like a dome of stone,
Ceils up the heavens. 'Tis hush as death
All but the ocean's dull low moan.
How hard Lee draws his breath!
He shudders as he feels the working Power.
Arouse thee, Lee! up! man thee for thine hour!
VIII-269
'Tis close at hand; for there, once more,
The burning ship. Wide sheets of flame
And shafted fire she showed before;
Twice thus she hither came;
But now she rolls a naked hulk, and throws
A wasting light; then, settling, down she goes.
-
-
And where she sank, up slowly came
The Spectre Horse from out the sea.
And there he stands! His pale sides flame.
He'll meet thee shortly, Lee.


## p. 4290 (#52) ############################################

4290
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
He treads the waters as a solid floor:
He's moving on. Lee waits him at the door.
They're met. "I know thou com'st for me,"
Lee's spirit to the Spectre said;
"I know that I must go with thee
Take me not to the dead.
It was not I alone that did the deed! "
Dreadful the eye of that still, spectral Steed!
Lee cannot turn. There is a force
In that fixed eye which holds him fast.
How still they stand! -the man and horse.
"Thine hour is almost past. "
"Oh, spare me," cries the wretch, "thou fearful one! »
"My time is full—I must not go alone. "
"I'm weak and faint. Oh let me stay! "
"Nay, murderer, rest nor stay for thee! "
The horse and man are on their way;
He bears him to the sea.
Hark!
how the Spectre breathes through this still night!
See, from his nostrils streams a deathly light!
He's on the beach, but stops not there;
He's on the sea! that dreadful horse!
Lee flings and writhes in wild despair!
In vain! The spirit-corse
Holds him by fearful spell; he cannot leap.
Within that horrid light he rides the deep.
It lights the sea around their track-
The curling comb, and dark steel wave:
There yet sits Lee the Spectre's back
Gone! gone! and none to save!
They're seen no more; the night has shut them in.
May Heaven have pity on thee, man of sin!
The earth has washed away its stain;
The sealed-up sky is breaking forth,
Mustering its glorious hosts again,
From the far south and north;
The climbing moon plays on the rippling sea. —
Oh, whither on its waters rideth Lee?


## p. 4291 (#53) ############################################

RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4291
PAUL AND ABEL
From Paul Felton'
HE
TOOK a path which led through the fields back of his
house, and wound among the steep rocks part way up the
range of high hills, till it reached a small locust grove,
where it ended. He began climbing a ridge near him, and
reaching the top of it, beheld all around him a scene desolate
and broken as the ocean. It looked for miles as if one immense
gray rock had been heaved up and shattered by an earthquake.
Here and there might be seen shooting out of the clefts, old
trees, like masts at sea. It was as if the sea in a storm had
become suddenly fixed, with all its ships upon it. The sun
shone glaring and hot on it, but there was neither life, nor
motion, nor sound; the spirit of desolation had gone over it, and
it had become the place of death. His heart sunk within him,
and something like a superstitious dread entered him. He tried
to rouse himself, and look about with a composed mind. It was
in vain - he felt as if some dreadful unseen power stood near
him. He would have spoken, but he dared not in such a place.
To shake this off, he began clambering over one ridge after
another, till, passing cautiously round a beetling rock, a sharp
cry from out it shot through him. Every small jut and preci-
pice sent it back with a Satanic taunt; and the crowd of hollows
and points seemed for the instant alive with thousands of fiends.
Paul's blood ran cold, and he scarcely breathed as he waited for
their cry again; but all was still. Though his mind was of a
superstitious cast, he had courage and fortitude; and ashamed of
his weakness, he reached forward, and stooping down looked into
the cavity. He started as his eye fell on the object within it.
"Who and what are you? " cried he. "Come out, and let me
see whether you are man or devil. " And out crawled a miser-
able boy, looking as if shrunk up with fear and famine. "Speak,
and tell me who you are, and what you do here," said Paul.
The poor fellow's jaws moved and quivered, but he did not utter
a sound. His spare frame shook, and his knees knocked against
each other as in an ague fit. Paul looked at him for a moment.
His loose shambly frame was nearly bare to the bones, his light
sunburnt hair hung long and straight round his thin jaws and
white eyes, that shone with a delirious glare, as if his mind had
been terror-struck. There was a sickly, beseeching smile about


## p. 4292 (#54) ############################################

4292
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
his mouth. His skin, between the freckles, was as white as a
leper's, and his teeth long and yellow. He appeared like one
who had witnessed the destruction about him, and was the only
living thing spared, to make death seem more horrible.
"Who put you here to starve? " said Paul to him.
«< Nobody, sir. "
"Why did you come, then? »
>>>>
"Oh, I can't help it; I must come.
"Must!
And why must you? " The boy looked round tim-
idly, and crouching near Paul, said in a tremulous, low voice,
his eyes glancing fearfully through the chasm, ""Tis He, 'tis He
that makes me! " Paul turned suddenly round, and saw before
him for the first time the deserted tract of pine wood and sand
which has been described. "Who and where is he? " asked Paul
impatiently, expecting to see some one.
"There, there, in the wood yonder," answered the boy,
crouching still lower, and pointing with his finger, whilst his
hand shook as if palsied.
"I see nothing," said Paul, "but these pines. What possesses
you? Why do you shudder so, and look so pale? Do you take
the shadows of the trees for devils ? "
"Don't speak of them. They'll be on me, if you talk of
them here," whispered the boy eagerly. Drops of sweat stood
on his brow from the agony of terror he was in. As Paul looked
at the lad, he felt something like fear creeping over him.
turned his eyes involuntarily to the wood again. "If we must
not talk here," said he at last, "come along with me, and tell
me what all this means. " The boy rose, and followed close to
Paul.
"Is it the Devil you have seen, that you shake so? »
"You have named him; I never must," said the boy. "I have
seen strange sights, and heard sounds whispered close to my
ears, so full of spite, and so dreadful, I dared not look round
lest I should see some awful face at mine.
I've thought I felt it
touch me sometimes. "
"And what wicked thing have you done, that they should
haunt you so ? "
"Oh, sir, I was a foolhardy boy. Two years ago I was not
afraid of anything. Nobody dared go into the wood, or even so
much as over the rocks, to look at it, after what happened
there. "—"I've heard a foolish story," said Paul. -" So once, sir,


## p. 4293 (#55) ############################################

RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4293
the thought took me that I would go there a-bird's-nesting, and
bring home the eggs and show to the men.
And it would never
go out of my mind after, though I began to wish I hadn't
thought any such thing. Every night when I went to bed I
would lie and say to myself, To-morrow is the day for me to
go;' and I did not like to be alone in the dark, and wanted some
one with me to touch me when I had bad dreams. And when
I waked in the morning, I felt as if something dreadful was
coming upon me before night. Well, every day,-I don't know
how it was, I found myself near this ridge; and every time I
went farther and farther up it, though I grew more and more
frightened. And when I had gone as far as I dared, I was
afraid to wait, but would turn and make away so fast that many
a time I fell down some of these places, and got lamed and
bruised. The boys began to think something, and would whis-
per each other and look at me; and when they found I saw
them, they would turn away. It grew hard for me to be one at
their games, though once I used to be the first chosen in I
can't tell how it was, but all this only made me go on; and as
the boys kept out of the way, I began to feel as if I must do
what I had thought of, and as if there was somebody, I couldn't
think who, that was to have me and make me do what he
pleased. So it went on, sir, day after day," continued the lad,
in a weak, timid tone, but comforted at finding one to tell his
story to; "till at last I reached as far as the hollow where you
just now frighted me so, when I heard you near me. I didn't
run off as I used to from the other places, but sat down under
the rock. Then I looked out and saw the trees. I tried to get
up and run home, but I couldn't; I dared not come out and go
round the corner of the rock. I tried to look another way, but
my eyes seemed fastened on the trees; I couldn't take 'em off.
At last I thought something told me it was time for me to go
on. I got up. "
Here poor Abel shook so that he seized hold of Paul's arm to
help him. Paul recoiled as if an unclean creature touched him.
The boy shrunk back.
"Go on," said Paul recovering himself. The boy took com-
fort from the sound of another's voice: "I went a little way
down the hollow, sir, as if drawn along. Then I came to a
steep place; I put my legs over to let myself down; my knees
grew so weak I dared not trust myself; I tried to draw them up,
-


## p. 4294 (#56) ############################################

4294
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
but the strength was all gone out of them, and then my feet were
as heavy as if made of lead. I gave a screech, and there was a
yell close to me and for miles round, that nigh stunned me. I
can't say how, but the last thing I knew was my leaping along
the rocks, while there was nothing but flames of fire shooting
all round me. It was scarce midday when I left home; and
when I came to myself under the locusts it was growing dark. "
"Rest here awhile," said Paul, looking at the boy as at some
mysterious being, "and tell out your story. "
Glad at being in company, the boy sat down upon the grass,
and went on with his tale:-"I crawled home as well as I
could, and went to bed. When I was falling asleep I had the
same feeling I had when sitting over the rock. I dared not lie
in bed any longer, for I couldn't keep awake while there. Glad
was I when the day broke, and I saw a neighbor open his door
and come out. I was not well all day, and I tried to think
myself more ill than I was, because I somehow thought that
then I needn't go to the wood. But the next day He was not
to be put off; and I went, though I cried and prayed all the
way that I might not be made to go. But I could not stop till
I had got over the hill, and reached the sand round the wood.
When I put my foot on it, all the joints in me jerked as if they
would not hold together, so that I cried out with the pain. When
I came under the trees there was a deep sound, and great shad-
ows were all round me. My hair stood on end, and my eyes
kept glimmering; yet I couldn't go back. I went on till I
found a crow's nest. I climbed the tree, and took out the eggs.
The old crow kept flying round and round me. As soon as I
felt the eggs in my hand and my work done, I dropped from
the tree and ran for the hollow. I can't tell how it was, but it
seemed to me that I didn't gain a foot of ground-it was just
as if the whole wood went with me. Then I thought He had
me his.
The ground began to bend and the trees to move. At
last I was nigh blind. I struck against one tree and another
till I fell to the ground. How long I lay there I can't tell;
but when I came to I was on the sand, the sun blazing hot upon
me and my skin scorched up. I was so stiff and ached so, I
could hardly stand upright. I didn't feel or think anything
after this; and hardly knew where I was till somebody came
and touched me, and asked me whether I was walking in my
sleep; and I looked up and found myself close home.


## p. 4295 (#57) ############################################

RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4295
me.
"The boys began to gather round me as if I were something
strange; and when I looked at them they would move back from
'What have you been doing, Abel? ' one of them asked me
at last. 'No good, I warrant you,' answered another, who stood
back of me. And when I turned around to speak to him he
drew behind the others, as if afraid I should harm him; - and I
was too weak and frightened to hurt a fly. 'See his hands;
they are stained all over. '-'And there's a crow's egg, as I'm
alive! ' said another. -'And the crow is the Devil's bird, Tom,
isn't it? ' asked a little boy. 'O Abel, you've been to that wood
and made yourself over to Him. '-They moved off one after
another, every now and then turning round and looking at me
as if I were cursed. After this they would not speak to me nor
come nigh me. I heard people talking, and saw them going
about, but not one of them all could I speak to, or get to come
near me; it was dreadful, being so alone! I met a boy that
used to be with me all day long; and I begged him not to go
off from me so, and to stop, if it were only for a moment.
'You played with me once,' said I; 'and won't you do so much.
as look at me, or ask me how I am, when I am so weak and ill
too? ' He began to hang back a little, and I thought from his
face that he pitied me. I could have cried for joy, and was
going up to him, but he turned away. I called out after him,
telling him that I would not so much as touch him with my
finger, or come any nearer to him, if he would only stop and
speak one word to me; but he went away shaking his head, and
muttering something, I hardly knew what,-how that I did not
belong to them, but was the Evil One's now. I sat down on a
stone and cried, and wished that I was dead; for I couldn't help
it, though it was wicked in me to do so. "
"And is there no one," asked Paul, "who will notice you or
speak to you? Do you live so alone now? " It made his heart
ache to look down upon the pining, forlorn creature before him.
"Not a soul," whined out the boy. "My grandmother is dead
now, and only the gentlefolks give me anything; for they don't
seem afraid of me, though they look as if they didn't like me,
and wanted me gone. All I can, I get to eat in the woods, and
I beg out of the village. But I dare not go far, because I don't
know when He will want me. But I am not alone, He's with
me day and night. As I go along the street in the daytime, I
feel Him near me, though I can't see Him; and it is as if He


## p. 4296 (#58) ############################################

4296
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
were speaking to me; and yet I don't hear any words. He
makes me follow Him to that wood; and I have to sit the whole
day where you found me, and I dare not complain nor move, till
I feel He will let me go. I've looked at the pines, sometimes,
till I have seen spirits moving all through them. Oh, 'tis an
awful place; they breathe cold upon me when He makes me go
there. "
"Poor wretch! " said Paul.
"I'm weak and hungry, and yet when I try to eat, something
chokes me; I don't love what I eat. "
"Come along with me, and you shall have something to
nourish and warm you; for you are pale and shiver, and look
cold here in the very sun. ”
rolled down his
He got up and
The boy looked up at Paul, and the tears
cheeks at hearing one speak so kindly to him.
followed meekly after to the house.
Paul, seeing a servant in the yard, ordered the boy some-
thing to eat. The man cast his eye upon Abel, and then looked
at Paul as if he had not understood him. "I spoke distinctly
enough," said Paul; "and don't you see that the boy is nigh
starved? " The man gave a mysterious look at both of them,
and with a shake of his head as he turned away, went to do as
he was bid.
"What means the fellow? " said Paul to himself as he entered
the house. "Does he take me to be bound to Satan too? Yet
there may be bonds upon the soul, though we know it not; and
evil spirits at work within us, of which we little dream. And
are there no beings but those seen of mortal eye or felt by
mortal touch? Are there not passing in and around this piece
of moving mold, in which the spirit is pent up, those whom it
hears not? those whom it has no finer sense whereby to com-
mune with? Are all the instant joys that come and go, we
know not whence nor whither, but creations of the mind? Or
are they not rather bright and heavenly messengers, whom when
this spirit is set free it will see in all their beauty? whose
sweet sounds it will then drink in? Yes, it is, it is so; and all
around us is populous with beings, now invisible to us as this
circling air. "
The moon was down and the sky overcast when they began
to wind among the rocks. Though Paul's walks had lain of
late in this direction, he was not enough acquainted with the


## p. 4297 (#59) ############################################

RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4297
passage to find his way through it in the dark. Abel, who had
traversed it often in the night, alone and in terror, now took
heart at having some one with him at such an hour, and of
fered unhesitatingly to lead. "The boy winds round those
crags with the speed and ease of a stream," said Paul; "not so
fast, Abel. "
"Take hold of the root which shoots out over your head, sir,
for 'tis ticklish work getting along just here. Do you feel it,
sir? "
"I have hold," said Paul.
"Let yourself gently down by it, sir. You needn't be a bit
afraid, for 'twill not give way; man couldn't have fastened it
stronger. "
This was the first time Abel had felt his power, or had been
of consequence to any one, since the boys had turned him out
from their games; and it gave him a momentary activity, and
an unsettled sort of spirit, which he had never known since
then. He had been shunned and abhorred; and he believed him-
self the victim of some demoniac power. To have another in
this fearful bondage with him, as Paul had intimated, was a
relief from his dreadful solitariness in his terrors and sufferings.
"And he said that it was I who was to work a curse on him,"
muttered Abel. "It cannot be, surely, that such a thing as I
am can harm a man like him! " And though Abel remembered
Paul's kindness, and that this was to seal his own doom too, yet
it stirred the spirit of pride within him.
"What are you muttering to yourself, there in the dark,"
demanded Paul; "or whom talk you with, you withered wretch ? »
Abel shook in every joint at the sound of Paul's harsh voice.
"It is so dreadfully still here," said Abel; "I hear nothing
but your steps behind me, and they make me start. " This was
true; for notwithstanding his touch of instant pride, his terrors
and his fear of Paul were as great as ever.