Part 2

As the Albatross approached the coast, the buildings of a small seaport became distinguishable. Some large houses faced the sea, and a battery commanded the entrance to the port; but with the exception of one or two streets running at right angles, the buildings straggled about with very little pretensions to regularity. The country seemed thinly inhabited, yet looked fertile and picturesque. Broad hills and valleys and noble views were observable in the distance;--a wild and lofty rock rose along the coast; and forests of noble trees were spread out in various directions. There was no shipping in the bay, except a few small craft; but the beach was crowded with spectators. It was observed that, among the hundreds who were watching the progress of the ship from the shore, there was only one female: the rest were men, and they were apparently of all ages, but principally men in the prime of life and in the full vigour of health. The appearance of only one woman surrounded by such an assemblage of the other sex seemed so remarkable, that it attracted the attention of all on board. As the ship entered the bay, several boats were put off, and the crew of each seemed to strain every nerve in endeavouring to get first alongside the vessel. In a few minutes the Albatross was boarded by several different parties.

"How many women have you?" cried one; as soon as he reached the deck.

"Let me see your cargo of female emigrants," demanded another as he bustled up to the captain.

"I want a wife!" shouted a third.

"We have no women here," exclaimed Hearty.

"No women!" cried they in full chorus, looking as disappointed as men could be.

"None," replied the captain.

"What! have you brought us no wives?" asked one in a most doleful tone.

"Nothing of the kind," said Hearty.

"Tarnation!" exclaimed they; and they looked at each other with all the eloquence of mute despair.

"A little un 'ill do for me!" squeaked out a dumpy sort of fellow, with a red nose and a pepper-and-salt waistcoat.

"We've got neither little nor big!" responded the captain.

"Tarnation!" again exclaimed the bachelors; and, slowly and despondingly, they prepared to leave the ship.

"Now ar'nt you got nothing feminine of no kind?" earnestly asked a sharp-visaged, lanky-looking settler, who seemed very loth to leave the ship. "If she's a nigger, I don't care."

"I tell you we've got no women at all!" said old Hearty, rather sharply.

"Tarnation!" muttered the disappointed colonists: and in a short time after they had reached the land, there was scarcely a creature, with the exception of the female already alluded to, to be seen on the beach. They had been expecting a ship laden with female emigrants, and as they were very much in want of wives, imagining the Albatross to be the much wished for vessel, they had been excessively eager to behold the cargo. The incident created considerable amusement among the voyagers. The sailors were particularly merry upon the occasion; and the rueful visages of the unfortunate colonists afforded many a hearty laugh.

Oriel had landed, and was walking along the beach, when he was startled by a short, quick scream, and turning round, beheld the female who had previously attracted his attention, rush into the arms of the captain's clerk. He had noticed, on his approach to the shore, that this woman, who from her dress appeared to be a domestic servant, seemed to regard the persons in the boat with an anxious scrutiny; but imagining it to be the effect of curiosity, it did not excite in him any remark. Ardent, at this rencontre, seemed to be in a state of surprise and wonder that kept him speechless. He gazed upon the prepossessing features of the fair stranger as earnestly as if he had no other faculty than that of seeing. The kind and anxious look that met his own--the arms that clasped his neck so firmly, and the gentle voice that murmured his name, convinced him of a fact of which he was almost incredulous. It was Optima.

"By what fortunate chance did you escape the death I felt assured that you had met with?" inquired Ardent, after, at Oriel's request, he had for the purpose of privacy retired to a chamber in one of the neighbouring habitations.

"When I found the boat sinking, I clung to it," replied his companion; "and when it again rose to the surface I floated on it. The blow which it had received from the ship had propelled it a considerable distance, and the force of the waves carried it still farther. The plunge I had received, for some minutes took my breath away; and, although I held on with all my strength to the boat, the heavy waves continually breaking upon me, and the alarming position in which I found myself placed, made me quite incapable of uttering a sound. As soon as I was able to comprehend the extent of my danger, the thought that I was separated from you, and the fear that you had perished in the sea, made my heart sink within me. I clung instinctively to the floating vessel; but I had no desire to live. I had seen enough of that dreadful conflagration to fill me with terror; and I had not recovered from the feelings it occasioned, when I was left alone, friendless, and about to be engulphed in the waters. All around me was so dark that I could see nothing; but the saltwater, as it dashed over me, scarcely allowed me to open my eyes if I could have seen, and my strength was being rapidly exhausted. I soon sunk into a state of stupor. How long this lasted I do not know; but on recovery, I found myself in a cabin, receiving every attention that my wants required; and, on inquiry, I found that I had been picked up by the crew of a ship, which, attracted by the glare of the burning vessel, had sent out a boat, in hopes of affording assistance to the survivors."

"I was saved in a similar manner," remarked Ardent.

"When they had taken me into the boat they did not proceed any farther," continued Optima, "as they observed that another vessel had sent out a boat's crew upon the same errand, and having no spare time at their command, they left the other boat to pick up the survivors, and returned with me to the ship. I discovered also that the vessel to which I had been conveyed had left Sydney with emigrants for the very colony to which we were proceeding. I told my story to my preservers, and many who heard it were kind and compassionate. An offer was made me by the wife of a settler to remain with her in the capacity of domestic servant, which offer I accepted without hesitation. One thing was a great consolation to me, and that was the conviction that you had been saved. I knew that you were a strong swimmer, and as I had been told that a party had been sent from the ship to rescue the crew of the boat they had run down, I concluded that you were in safety."

"You were right, dear Optima!" said the captain's clerk; "I was taken on board that ship, and have since held in it a responsible situation."

"Believing you to have been rescued, I continued to live, with the hope that I should meet you again," continued Optima. "I arrived at the colony. The persons whose protection I had accepted, settled at Sydney, where the husband commenced business as a builder, in which he succeeded beyond his expectations. I was very well treated, and labour being exceedingly valuable in the colony, my exertions were rather profitable to me. At that time I entertained the idea that as all our property was consumed in the fire, you must be very much in want of a variety of comforts to which you had been used; and as the expectation of my meeting you again was never absent from me, I laboured diligently, and saved all my earnings as a provision for our future support."

Ardent could only look his gratitude, and rapturously kiss the hand he held in his own.

"It was such a pleasure to me, dear Ardent," resumed his companion, "to count my gains as fast as they accumulated, and I kept saying to myself 'a little more and there will be enough to begin the world again with;' and I thought how happy I should be able to make you, and I kept hoping we should soon meet--and every day passed by in imagining what we should do, and in enjoying a happiness of my own creating. Every time I heard that a ship was in the bay, I came down to the beach in hopes of finding you among the passengers. I scrutinised every one that left the vessel so closely that I offended some and surprised others; but although I met with repeated disappointments, I never left off expecting your arrival. By this time I had saved about two hundred dollars, and whether it became known, or whether the scarcity of females brought me into such consideration, I do not know; but scarcely a day passed without my receiving an offer of marriage."

"An offer of marriage!" exclaimed Ardent in surprise.

"Yes, dear Ardent," replied Optima. "The men seemed frantic after me. I was not safe any where. If I went to pay a bill, it was sure to conclude on the part of the tradesman with an offer of his hand and heart. If I entered the market, no sooner had I made a purchase than I received a proposal. I was besieged in all hours and at all places,--I may almost say that I received a new suitor at the corner of every street. It was in vain I told them I was married, and showed them my wedding ring. They saw that I had no husband with me, and they were desirous of supplying his place; and men even of a superior rank continually plagued me with their proposals. It is scarcely necessary to say that I gave them all a negative answer; but these were things that they did not appear to understand, for the more frequently I refused, the more frequently they again proposed. At last I was obliged to state how I was situated to the lady with whom I was staying, and she spoke to her husband; and he took measures that put an end to the persecution. And now, dear Ardent, that my anticipations are realised, we will be so very happy--won't we?"

It is easier to imagine what was the answer than to describe it. It is sufficient to say that Oriel Porphyry made a considerable addition to the two hundred dollars which the devoted Optima had saved, that enabled the young couple to take a promising farm up the country, with every prospect of enjoying a life of continued happiness.

"It is very strange," remarked the young merchant to Zabra on his return to the ship, "it is very strange that I have had no communication from my father. I expected one at Athenia, but I received no intelligence. I expected one at Constantinople--there I met with the same result; and I then made sure of meeting with one at New Sydney, but was there equally unsuccessful. It makes me very uneasy."

"Possibly he may have nothing of importance to write about," replied Zabra. "Things at Columbia may remain in the same state as at his last despatch."

"I doubt it. I doubt that the emperor will remain satisfied with his prerogatives curtailed to the extent to which they have lately been reduced," said Oriel Porphyry. "There is no sincerity in these men. They will break any compact when it suits their convenience. They have no notion of either honour or honesty: and the emperor is a weak, vain, foolish man, proud, tyrannical, and deceitful. Such a man must be ever scheming to regain his former power; and if he think it be practicable he will not be particular as to the means he will employ for that purpose. I am much afraid my father has fallen a sacrifice to his patriotism."

"It cannot be," observed his companion. "They would not dare harm him."

"Dare!" echoed his patron. "What evil will not bad men dare? And did not that proud upstart Philadelphia load his honourable limbs with chains and thrust him into a loathsome dungeon to die the lingering death of starvation? He dared do that, and I doubt much whether a worse villainy could have been perpetrated. I hope to live to see the time when I shall have an opportunity of bringing him to an account for these and other atrocities. If my good sword be true, and my arm has lost none of its power, I'll not leave his worthless body till I have relieved it of his equally worthless soul."

"What!" exclaimed Zabra, with considerable excitement, "would you be thus revengeful to the father of Eureka? You too, who a short time since seemed ready to forgive him all his errors on account of his relationship to her. What has changed you? Why would you follow the bad examples of bad men? That he is not what he should be is too true; but that is no reason why you should become his executioner. Do you think that Eureka could regard you with affection when you came to her stained with her father's blood? I am surprised that you should have given utterance to such a sentiment."

"I knew not till lately the atrocities he had committed, and the savage disposition he possessed," replied the young merchant; "and I can see no more harm in killing such a monster than there is in destroying a mad beast."

"How different then your feelings must be to those of your father," observed the other. "He knew what was due to humanity, and practised it, and he was the person best entitled to call for vengeance, but he was satisfied with justice. Professing the regard you do towards Eureka, nothing could surprise me more than to hear you proclaim so inhuman a wish."

"It is impossible for me to help feeling exasperated against him," said Oriel. "Imagine for a moment yourself in my situation. Let your father be as mine is, the kindest and noblest of his species; know that he who never did harm to any living creature, but sought to create happiness throughout the world--was fettered and reviled, and left lingering in filth and darkness for three days, enduring all the pangs of famine; and if you have a heart within your breast, and a soul that hates the cowardly vices of despotism, you will feel as I do, and long for an opportunity to punish your father's persecutor, in a manner worthy of his crimes. I know that your relationship to the offender must stand in the way of your seeing the justice of the punishment I would inflict: but I am no hypocrite Zabra. I cannot disguise my detestation of such a monster; and although next to Eureka and my father I honour you, even your opposition would not make me change a sentiment so natural and appropriate."

"Leave Philadelphia to his own feelings, which sooner or later will be sufficient punishment," responded Zabra. "Touch him not if you value the love of Eureka. She I know has little cause to feel much affection for him, but bad as he is she never can be brought to look upon his destroyer with any feeling save that of repugnance."

"If that be the case I hope he will keep out of my way," rejoined the young merchant; "for I think I could endure anything rather than her dislike; but the absence of intelligence from my father has certainly made me suspicious. I am almost determined to return to Columbia without proceeding to England."

"I do not think such a course advisable, Oriel," observed Zabra. "There may be a thousand things that prevent your father's correspondence, or he may have written, and the despatches may have been lost. If this be the case, and there is a great probability that it is, he would be very much vexed at your returning without having accomplished your voyage."

"Well, I will proceed, but I will only make a brief stay among the antiquities of England, and then steer direct for Columbia," replied Oriel Porphyry: "I have very strong doubts about things being exactly right there. The accounts I have heard are of a contrary tendency; but if the storm is to be, it will come unexpected. If any attempt be made by the government to restore the old order of things, I hope they will have the goodness to wait till my return before they commence their proceedings. There is a powerful regiment of horse, composed of the young citizens of Columbus, of which I have the command; I believe that they are devoted to my will; and even with these, although they are not above a thousand strong, I would make such a stand as would soon bring around me all the brave spirits in the country: I only wish for an opportunity to try the experiment."

"Will you never dismiss these delusive visions," said his young friend, anxiously. "I thought that you were at last becoming reconciled to a more useful and amiable way of life."

"You have been deceived, Zabra," observed Oriel; "I have been more quiet, but not less ambitious. This passion for glory has become a part of my nature; it is with me at all times. I think of it and dream of it. It is the anticipation of finding the opportunity for greatness that makes me able to endure the tedious inactivity of my present mode of existence. I shall never be satisfied till I acquire the power for which I yearn."

"What an unhappy nature yours must be then," replied Zabra. "You have every hope of happiness within your reach; yet because it does not come clothed in the gorgeous draperies in which you wish it to appear, you seem desirous of dismissing it, as of not sufficient value to be enjoyed. I had hoped that you had become wiser; I had hoped, too, that you had been more solicitous for the happiness of Eureka. I am afraid all my labour has been thrown away, and that I shall have to return to her with the intelligence that your ambitious hopes have stifled every feeling of affection."

"There you wrong me," exclaimed the young merchant, "you wrong me exceedingly. My aspirations for greatness are never separate from my hopes of Eureka; because the first are merely the result of the latter. It is useless attempting to check the impulses which urge me on. I must be what I am; and while my state of being, and the purposes which it creates and would see fulfilled, cannot in any way dishonour Eureka, nothing will convince me that they are to be condemned. From my own knowledge of her character, I cannot imagine that she would regard my efforts for advancement with the feeling which you have stated she possesses. Her own greatness of soul must bring her to look with commendation on another, who evinces a desire to obtain a similar greatness: this ambition is a passion so entirely of her own creating, that she cannot, with any justice, be displeased with its exhibition."

"How little you seem to know of the nature of her whose love you possess," replied Zabra, in a low, tremulous voice; "no doubt, she would feel gratified at any circumstance which would exalt you in the estimation of your countrymen. The honour you might receive would be her glory as much as yours, and the fame you might obtain would find none more desirous of its security than herself. But it was not for these things that she loved you. Ambition formed no part of the qualities that called into existence her admiration--which, having acquired its full growth, cannot be made more perfect by the greatness you covet; and that admiration must continue as long as the qualities that called it into operation exist. But knowing your desire to acquire renown, and knowing the nature of that feeling is to swallow up all the more amiable aspirations, and being aware that the only way to its acquirement is through a thousand terrible dangers, she cannot help the conviction, that she would rather possess your affection as you were, than live in continual fear, to witness your superiority, as you may be."

"Let us say no more about it," said Oriel. "It is very evident that neither can convince the other. I may be positive that I am going right, and you may be positive that I am going wrong; but it is time spent to no purpose, if we cannot be brought to change our opinions."

"Remember, I am only doing my duty," replied the youth. "I warn you, because the path you desire to take is surrounded by dangers. If you are determined on going on, I say, go on and prosper; but if you go on, and fail, the bitter disappointment you will experience will not only render yourself miserable, but must make equally unhappy her whose felicity you appear so desirous of creating. If you must go on, Oriel, I say again--go on, and prosper."

CHAP. III.

OLD ENGLAND.

"We are approaching the British Islands, are we not?" inquired Oriel Porphyry.

"Yes, Sir, the land lies right ahead," replied the captain.

"There are several of these islands, I believe," added the young merchant.

"There are a great number on 'em o' different sorts and sizes," said Hearty; "but them as is most visited are England and Ireland."

"What is the meaning of the prefix to the word land in each of these names?" asked Oriel of the professor.

"England or Ingle-land means the land of the fire side," replied Fortyfolios. "Ingle is an old British word meaning the fire at which the inhabitants of a house warmed themselves or cooked their food. The natives have been from the earliest times, famous for their love of the comforts of this fire, which was usually made of coal dug out of the earth, that made a cheerful blaze in a room, and their attachment to their ingles procured the island the name of Ingle-land, which, in course of time was abbreviated into the name of England."

"I doubt that very much, don't you see," here observed Dr. Tourniquet; "for in my opinion, England has a totally different derivation. The aborigines of the island were principally fishermen, and very appropriately had given to them the name of angle-ers, which means people who fish. Each separate kingdom was called a kingdom of the Angles, from the natives using an angle, and the whole island was called Angle-land, or the land of the angle, which for shortness was soon afterwards called England."

"'Tis nothing of the kind, Dr. Tourniquet," rejoined the professor warmly. "I wonder you should have started such an absurd idea."

"It is quite as reasonable as yours at any rate, don't you see," remarked the doctor.

"It has no such pretension," said the other in a decided manner. "I can prove that the fire or ingle was a national characteristic of the people."

"And I can prove that fishing or angle-ing was a national characteristic of the people," added his antagonist.

"Pooh!" exclaimed one, contemptuously.

"Pish!" cried the other.

"Ingle-land,"--resumed the professor.

"Angle-land,"--said the doctor, interrupting him.

"Now, Dr. Tourniquet, I beg I may not be interrupted by your ridiculous blunders," observed Fortyfolios with considerable asperity, and a look of dignity peculiar to himself.

"The blunder is on your side, don't you see," replied the surgeon, with a chuckle of satisfaction exceedingly annoying to his companion.

"Never mind if it be Ingle-land or Angle-land," exclaimed Oriel Porphyry. "All we know for certain is, that it is now called England. But how do you account for the adoption of the other name?"

"Of the derivation of that word there can be no doubt--it explains itself," said Fortyfolios. "Ireland means the land of ire. The natives from time immemorial have been known to be excessively irascible. They would quarrel upon the slightest cause, and fight from no cause at all. They would fight when they were hungry, upon which occasion, as was very natural, they fought for a belly-full. They would fight for liquor; they would fight for fun; they would fight for love; they would fight to get drunk, and then fight to get sober. The happiest men among them were those who were most frequently beaten, and such persons were known to be the best friends as were continually trying to knock out each other's brains. These men consequently got the appropriate name of Ire-ishmen, and the island was called Ire-land."