tree with its forepaws, and play the antics of a cat; could the panther remain there, the great strength of and then, by lashing itself with its tail, growling and the dog returning with a convulsive effort. But scratching the earth, it would attempt the manifesta- Elizabeth saw, as Brave fastened his teeth in the side tions of anger that rendered its parent so terrific. of his enemy, that the collar of brass around his All this time Brave stood firm and undaunted, his neck, which had been glittering throughout the fray, short tail erect, his body drawn backward on its was of the color of blood, and directly, that his frame haunches, and his eyes following the movements of was sinking to the earth, where it soon lay prostrate both dam and cub. At every gambol played by the and helpless. Several mighty efforts of the wild-cat latter, it approached nigher to the dog, the growling to extricate herself from the jaws of the dog folof the three becoming more horrid at each moment, lowed, but they were fruitless, until the mastiff turned until the younger beast, overleaping its intended on his back, his lips collapsed, and his teeth loosened, bound, fell directly before the mastiff. There was a when the short convulsions and stillness that sucmoment of fearful cries and struggles, but they ended ceeded announced the death of poor Brave. almost as soon as commenced, by the cub appearing in the air, hurled from the jaws of Brave, with a violence that sent it against a tree so forcibly as to render it completely senseless. Elizabeth now lay wholly at the mercy of the beast. There is said to be something in the front of the image of the Maker that daunts the hearts of the inferior beings of his creation; and it would seem that some such power in the present instance suspended the threatened blow. The eyes of the monster and the kneeling maiden met for an instant, when the former stooped to examine her fallen foe; next to scent her luckless cub. From the latter examination it turned, however, with its eyes apparently emitting flashes of fire, its tail lashing its sides furiously, and its claws projecting inches from her broad feet. Miss Temple did not or could not move. Her hands were clasped in the attitude of prayer, but her eyes were still drawn to her terrible enemy—her cheeks were blanched to the whiteness of marble, and her lips were slightly separated with horror. The moment seemed now to have arrived for the fatal termination, and the beautiful figure of Elizabeth was bowing meekly to the stroke, when a rustling of leaves behind seemed rather to mock the organs than to meet her ears. Elizabeth witnessed the short struggle, and her blood was warming with the triumph of the dog when she saw the form of the old panther in the air, springing twenty feet from the branch of the beech to the back of the mastiff. No words of ours can describe the fury of the conflict that followed. It was a confused struggle on the dry leaves, accompanied by loud and terrific cries. Miss Temple continued on her knees, bending over the form of Louisa, her eyes fixed on the animals, with an interest so horrid, and yet so intense, that she almost forgot her own stake in the result. So rapid and vigorous were the bounds of the inhabitant of the forest, that its active frame seemed constantly in the air, while the dog nobly faced his foe at each successive leap. When the panther lighted on the shoulders of the mastiff, which was its constant aim, old Brave, though torn with her talons, and stained with his own blood, that already flowed from a dozen wounds, would shake off his furious foe like a feather, and rearing on his hind-legs, rush to the fray again, with jaws distended and a dauntless eye. But age, and It was rather the yielding of nature than a comhis pampered life, greatly disqualified the noble mas-pliance with this unexpected order, that caused the tiff for such a struggle. In everything but courage head of our heroine to sink on her bosom; when he was only the vestige of what he had once been she heard the report of the rifle, the whiz of the A higher bound than ever raised the wary and bullet, and the enraged cries of the beast, who furious beast far beyond the reach of the dog, who was rolling over on the earth, biting its own flesh, was making a desperate but fruitless dash at her. and tearing the twigs and branches within its reach. from which she alighted in a favorable position, on At the next instant the form of Leather-Stocking the back of her aged foe. For a single moment only rushed by her, and he called aloud: Hist! hist!" said a low voice, stoop lower, gal! your bonnet hides the creature's head." "Come in, Hector, come in old fool; 'tis a hard- gave several indications of returning strength and lived animal, and may jump agin." Natty fearlessly maintained his position in front of the females, notwithstanding the violent bounds and threatening aspect of the wounded panther, which ferocity until his rifle was again loaded, when he stepped up to the enraged animal, and, placing the muzzle close to its head, every spark of life was extinguished by the discharge. THE CAPTURE OF A WHALE. OM," cried Barnstable, starting, "there is "Ay, ay, sir," returned the cockswain, with undisturbed composure; "here is his spout, not half a mile to seaward; the easterly gale has driven the ereater to leeward, and he begins to find himself in shoal water. He's been sleeping, while he should have been working to windward!" 66 paring an oar to steer with, in place of the rudder, which was unshipped in order that, if necessary, the boat might be whirled around when not advancing. Their approach was utterly unnoticed by the monster of the deep, who continued to amuse himself with throwing the water in two circular spouts high into the air, occasionally flourishing the broad flukes of his tail with graceful but terrific force, until the The fellow takes it coolly, too! he's in no hurry hardy seamen were within a few hundred feet of to get an offing." “I rather conclude, sir," said the cockswain, rolling over his tobacco in his mouth very composedly, while his little sunken eyes began to twinkle with pleasure at the sight, "the gentleman has lost his reckoning, and don't know which way to head, to take himself back into blue water." him, when he suddenly cast his head downwards, and, without apparent effort, reared his immense body for many feet above the water, waving his tail violently, and producing a whizzing noise, that sounded like the rushing of winds. The cockswain stood erect, poising his harpoon, ready for the blow; but, when he beheld the creature assuming his formidable attitude, he ""Tis a fin back!" exclaimed the lieutenant; "he waved his hand to his commander, who instantly will soon make headway, and be off." "No, sir; 'tis a right whale," answered Tom; "I saw his spout; he threw up a pair of as pretty rainbows as a Christian would wish to look at. a raal oil-butt, that fellow!" He's signed to his men to cease rowing. In this situation the sportsmen rested a few moments, while the whale struck several blows on the water in rapid succession, the noise of which re-echoed along the cliffs like the hollow reports of so many cannon. After the wanton Barnstable laughed, and exclaimed, in joyous exhibition of his terrible strength, the monster sunk again into his native element, and slowly disappeared from the eyes of his pursuers. tones "Give strong way, my hearties! There seems nothing better to be done; let us have a stroke of a harpoon at that impudent rascal." The men shouted spontaneously, and the old cockswain suffered his solemn visage to relax into a small laugh, while the whaleboat sprang forward like a courser for the goal. During the few minutes they were pulling towards their game, long Tom arose from his crouching attitude in the stern sheets, and transferred his huge frame to the bows of the boat, where he made such preparation to strike the whale as the occasion required. "Which way did he head, Tom?" cried Barnstable, the moment the whale was out of sight. "Pretty much up and down, sir," returned the cock swain, whose eye was gradually brightening with the excitement of the sport; "he'll soon run his nose against the bottom, if he stands long on that course, and will be glad enough to get another snuff of pure air; send her a few fathoms to starboard, sir, and I promise we shall not be out of his track.” The conjecture of the experienced old seaman proved true, for in a few minutes the water broke The tub, containing about half of a whale line, was near them, and another spout was cast into the air, placed at the feet of Barnstable, who had been pre-when the huge animal rushed for half his length in the same direction, and fell on the sea with a turbulence and foam equal to that which is produced by the launching of a vessel, for the first time, into its proper element. After the evolution, the whale rolled heavily, and seemed to rest from further efforts. His slightest movements were closely watched by Barnstable and his cockswain, and, when he was in a state of comparative rest, the former gave a signal to his crew to ply their oars once more. A few long and vigorous strokes sent the boat directly up to the broadside of the whale, with its bows pointing toward one of the fins, which was, at times, as the animal yielded sluggishly to the action of the waves, exposed to view. The cockswain poised his harpoon with much precision and then darted it from him with a violence that buried the iron in the body of their foe. The instant the blow was made, long Tom shouted, with singular earnestness, "Starn all !" "Stern all!" echoed Barnstable; when the obedient seaman, by united efforts, forced the boat in a backward direction, beyond the reach of any blow from their formidable antagonist. The alarmed animal, however, meditated no such resistance; ignorant of his own power, and of the insignificance of his enemies, he sought refuge in flight. One moment of stupid surprise succeeded the entrance of the iron, when he cast his huge tail into the air with a violence that threw the sea around him into increased commotion, and then disappeared, with the quickness of lightning, amid a cloud of foam. "Snub him!" shouted Barnstable; "hold on, Tom; he rises already." "Ay, ay, sir," replied the composed cock swain, seizing the line, which was running out of the boat with a velocity that rendered such a manoeuvre rather hazardous. The boat was dragged violently in his wake, and cut through the billows with a terrific rapidity, that at moments appeared to bury the slight fabric in the ocean. When long Tom beheld his victim throwing his spouts on high again, he pointed with exultation to the jetting fluid, which was streaked with the deep red of blood, and cried, "Ay, I've touched the fellow's life! It must be more than two foot of blubber that stops my iron from reaching the life of any whale that ever sculled the ocean." I believe you have saved yourself the trouble of using the bayonet you have rigged for a lance," said his commander, who entered into the sport with all the ardor of one whose youth had been chiefly passed in such pursuits; "feel your line. Master Coffin; can we haul alongside of our enemy? I like not the course he is steering, as he tows us from the schooner." "'Tis the creater's way, sir," said the cockswain; "you know they need the air in their nostrils when they run, the same as a man; but lay hold, boys, and let us haul up to him." The seaman now seized their whale-line, and slowly drew their boat to within a few feet of the tail of the fish, whose progress became sensibly less rapid as he grew weak with the loss of blood. In a few minutes he stopped running, and appeared to roll uneasily on the water, as if suffering the agony of death. The cockswain stood examining his game with cool discretion, and replied to this interrogatory, "No, sir, no; he's going into his flurry; there's no occasion for disgracing ourselves by using a soldier's weapon in taking a whale. Starn off, sir, starn off! the creater's in his flurry." The warning of the prudent cockswain was promptly obeyed, and the boat cautiously drew off to a distance, leaving to the animal a clear space while under its dying agonies. From a state of perfect rest, the terrible monster threw its tail on high as when in sport, but its blows were trebled in rapidity and violence, till all was hid from view by a pyramid of foam, that was deeply dyed with blood. The roarings of the fish were like the bellowings of a herd of bulls, and, to one who was ignorant of the fact, it would have appeared as if a thousand monsters were engaged in deadly combat behind the bloody mist that obstructed the view. Gradually these efforts subsided, and, when the discolored water again settled down to the long and regular swell of the ocean, the fish was seen exhausted, and yielding passively to its fate. As life departed, the enormous black mass rolled to one side; and when the white and glistening skin of the belly became apparent, the seamen well knew that their victory was achieved. 9 N NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. "THE GREATEST OF AMERICAN ROMANCERS." O black knight in Sir Walter Scott's novels, nor the red Indians of Cooper, nor his famous pioneer, Leather Stocking of the forest, nor his long Tom of the ocean, ever seemed more truly romantic than do Hawthorne's stern and gloomy Calvinists of "The Scarlet Letter," and "The House of Seven Gables," or his Italian hero of "The Marble Faun." We We have characterized Hawthorne as the greatest of American romancers. might have omitted the word American, for he has no equal in romance perhaps in the world of letters. An eminent critic declares: "His genius was greater than that of the idealist, Emerson. In all his mysticism his style was always clear and exceedingly graceful, while in those delicate, varied and permanent effects which are gained by a happy arrangement of words in their sentences, together with that unerring directness and unswerving force which characterize his writings, no author in modern times has equalled him. To the rhetorician, his style is a study; to the lay reader, a delight that eludes analysis. He is the most eminent representative of the American spirit in literature.” It was in the old town of Salem, Massachusetts-where his Puritan ancestors had lived for nearly two hundred years-with its haunted memories of witches and strange sea tales; its stories of Endicott and the Indians, and the sombre traditions of witchcraft and Puritan persecution that Nathaniel Hawthorne was born July 4, 1804. And it was in this grim, ancient city by the sea that the life of the renowned romancer was greatly bound up. In his childhood the town was already falling to decay, and his lonely surroundings filled his young imagination with a wierdness that found expression in the books of his later life, and impressed upon his character a seriousness that clung to him ever after. His father was a sea-captain,—but a most melancholy and silent man, who died when Nathaniel was four years old. His mother lived a sad and secluded life, and the boy thus early learned to exist in a strange and imaginative world of his own creation. So fond of seclusion did he become that even after his graduation from college in 1825, he returned to his old haunt at Salem and resumed his solitary, dreamy existence. For twelve years, from 1825 to 1837, he went nowhere, he saw no one; he worked in his room by day, reading and writing; at twilight he wandered out along the shore, or through the darkened streets of the town. Certainly this was no attractive life to most young men; but for Hawthorne it had its fascination and during this time he was storing his mind, forming his style, training his imagination and preparing for the splendid literary fame of his later years. Hawthorne received his early education in Salem, partly at the school of Joseph E. Worcester, the author of "Worcester's Dictionary." He entered Bowdoin College in 1821. The poet, Longfellow, and John S. C. Abbott were his classmates; and Franklin Pierce-one class in advance of him-was his close friend. He graduated in 1825 without any special distinction. His first book, "Fanshawe," a novel, was issued in 1826, but so poor was its success that he suppressed its fur Built for Emerson's grandfather. In this house Ralph Waldo Emerson dwelt for ten years, and, here, in the same room where Emerson wrote " Nature" and other philosophic essays, Hawthorne prepared his "Twice Told Tales," and Mosses from an Old Manse." He declares the four years (1842-1846) spent in this house were the happiest of his life. ther publication. Subsequently he placed the manuscript of a collection of stories in the hands of his publisher, but timidly withdrew and destroyed them. His first practical encouragement was received from Samuel G. Goodrich, who published four stories in the "Token," one of the annuals of that time, in 1831. Mr. Goodrich also engaged Hawthorne as editor of the "American Magazine of Useful and Entertaining Knowledge," which position he occupied from 1836 to 1838. About this time he also contributed some of his best stories to the "New England Magazine," "The Knickerbocker," and the "Democratic Review." It was a part of these magazine stories which he collected and published in 1837 in the volume entitled, "Twice Told Tales," embodying the fruits of his twelve years' labor. |