But could not, though he tried; His head was turned,--and so he chewed His pigtail till he died.
His death, which happened in his berth, At forty-odd befell; They went and told the sexton, and The sexton tolled the bell.
THE MARINER'S DREAM
By WILLIAM DIMOND
In slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay; His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.
He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers, And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn; While Memory stood sideways half covered with flowers, And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn.
Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide, And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise; Now far, far behind him the green waters glide, And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.
The jessamine clambers in flowers o'er the thatch, And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall; All trembling with transport he raises the latch, And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.
A father bends o'er him with looks of delight; His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear; And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.
The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; Joy quickens his pulses,--his hardships seem o'er; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest,--"O God! thou hast blest me,--I ask for no more."
Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye?
Ah! what is that sound which now 'larms on his ear?
'Tis the lightning's red gleam, painting hell on the sky!
'Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere!
He springs from his hammock, he flies to the deck; Amazement confronts him with images dire; Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck; The masts fly in splinters; the shrouds are on fire.
Like mountains the billows tremendously swell; In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save; Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell, And the death-angel flaps his broad wings o'er the wave!
O sailor-boy, woe to thy dream of delight!
In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss.
Where now is the picture that fancy touched bright,-- Thy parent's fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss?
O sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again Shall home, love or kindred thy wishes repay; Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main, Full many a fathom thy frame shall decay.
[Illustration: LIKE MOUNTAINS THE BILLOWS SWELL]
No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge, But the white foam of waves shall thy winding sheet be, And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge.
On a bed of green sea flowers thy limbs shall be laid,-- Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below.
Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away, And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye,-- O sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul!
THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON [Footnote: Defoe's Robinson Crusoe was so very popular that a host of imitations of it were written. Most of them have been entirely forgotten but one, The Swiss Family Robinson, by Johann Rudolph Wyss, proved so popular, especially with children that it was translated from the original German into several languages and new editions are still appearing, though the book was published in 1813.
The Swiss Family Robinson gives the story of a family who were cast away by shipwreck, on an uninhabited island. By no means all of the book is given here--any of the interesting adventures and ingenious experiments have been of necessity omitted--but the parts here given tell a continuous story.]
I
THE SHIPWRECK AND LANDING
For many days we had been tempest-tossed. Six times had the darkness closed over a wild and terrific scene, and returning light as often brought but renewed distress, for the raging storm increased in fury until on the seventh day all hope was lost.
We were driven completely out of our course; no conjecture could be formed as to our whereabouts. The crew had lost heart, and were utterly exhausted by incessant labor.
The riven masts had gone by the board, leaks had been sprung in every direction, and the water which rushed in gained upon us rapidly.
Instead of reckless oaths, the seamen uttered frantic cries to God for mercy, mingled with strange and often ludicrous vows, to be performed should deliverance be granted.
Every man on board alternately commended his soul to his Creator, and strove to bethink himself of some means of saving his life.
My heart sank as I looked around upon my family in the midst of these horrors. Our four young sons were overpowered by terror. "Dear children," said I, "if the Lord will, he can save us even from this fearful peril; if not, let us calmly yield our lives into his hand, and think of the joy and blessedness of finding ourselves forever and ever united in that happy home above."
At these words my weeping wife looked bravely up, and, as the boys clustered round her, she began to cheer and encourage them with calm and loving words. I rejoiced to see her fortitude, though my heart was ready to break as I gazed on my dear ones. We knelt down together, one after another praying with deep earnestness and emotion. Fritz, in particular, besought help and deliverance for his dear parents and brothers, as though quite forgetting himself.
Our hearts were soothed by the never-failing comfort of childlike, confiding prayer, and the horror of our situation seemed less overwhelming. "Ah," thought I, "the Lord will hear our prayer! He will help us."
Amid the roar of the thundering waves I suddenly heard the cry of "Land, land!" while at the same instant the ship struck with a frightful shock, which threw every one to the deck, and seemed to threaten her immediate destruction.
Dreadful sounds betokened the breaking up of the ship, and the roaring waters poured in on all sides.
[Illustration: THE SHIP WAS JAMMED BETWEEN HIGH ROCKS]
Then the voice of the captain was heard above the tumult, shouting, "Lower away the boats! We are lost!"
"Lost!" I exclaimed, and the word went like a dagger to my heart; but seeing my children's terror renewed, I composed myself, calling out cheerfully, "Take courage, my boys! we are all above water yet. There is the land not far off; let us do our best to reach it. You know God helps those that help themselves!" With that, I left them and went on deck. What was my horror when through the foam and spray I beheld the only remaining boat leave the ship, the last of the seamen spring into her and push off, regardless of my cries and entreaties that we might be allowed to share their slender chance of preserving their lives. My voice was drowned in the howling of the blast; and even had the crew wished it, the return of the boat was impossible.
Casting my eyes despairingly around, I became gradually aware that our position was by no means hopeless, inasmuch as the stern of the ship, containing our cabin, was jammed between two high rocks, and was partly raised from among the breakers which dashed the forepart to pieces. As the clouds of mist and rain drove past, I could make out, through rents in the vaporous curtain, a line of rocky coast; and rugged as it was, my heart bounded toward it as a sign of help in the hour of need. Yet the sense of our lonely and forsaken condition weighed heavily upon me as I returned to my family, constraining myself to say with a smile, "Courage, dear ones! Although our good ship will never sail more, she is so placed that our cabin will remain above water, and to-morrow, if the wind and waves abate, I see no reason why we should not be able to get ashore."
These few words had an immediate effect on the spirits of my children, who at once regarded our problematical chance of escaping as a happy certainty, and began to enjoy the relief from the violent pitching and rolling of the vessel. My wife, however, perceived my distress and anxiety, in spite of my forced composure, and I made her comprehend our real situation, greatly fearing the effect of the intelligence on her nerves. Not for a moment did her courage and trust in Providence forsake her, and on seeing this, my fortitude revived.
"We must find some food, and take a good supper," said she; "it will never do to grow faint by fasting too long. We shall require our utmost strength to-morrow."
Night drew on apace, the storm was as fierce as ever, and at intervals we were startled by crashes announcing further damage to our unfortunate ship.
A good meal being now ready, my youngsters ate heartily, and retiring to rest, were speedily fast asleep. Fritz, who was of an age to be aware of the real danger we were in, kept watch with us.
We searched about and fortunately got hold of a number of empty flasks and tin canisters, which we connected two and two together so as to form floats sufficiently buoyant to support a person in the water, and my wife and young sons each willingly put one on. I then provided myself with matches, knives, cord and other portable articles, trusting that, should the vessel go to pieces before daylight, we might gain the shore not wholly destitute.
Fritz, as well as his brothers, now slept soundly. Throughout the night my wife and I maintained our prayerful watch, dreading at every fresh sound some fatal change in the position of the wreck.
At length the faint dawn of day appeared, the long, weary night was over, and with thankful hearts we perceived that the gale had begun to moderate; blue sky was seen above us, and the lovely hues of sunrise adorned the eastern horizon.