Part 3

Not to draw out this narrative to a tedious length, the time intervening between the morning after the storm and that appointed for a second attempt to carry the ship out may be passed over, with merely the remark that the unfortunate captain was during that period followed to his grave by a large concourse of friends; for his many virtues had won esteem, and all who knew him felt that in his untimely end a tie of tender relationship had been severed. The morning came; not like the other, bright and beautiful, with a clear, fresh breeze careering over the water, filling the sails, toying with the numberless flags and streamers upon the little craft in the harbor, and the different flag-staffs in the town, and gladdening the hearts of the voyagers and their well-wishers with the prospect of getting well off the coast; but dark, gloomy, and ominous. The whole of the broad blue canopy of heaven was shut in by one wide-spreading cloud, immovable and impenetrable, indicating the close proximity of snow. The ship had been put in complete order; but her new commander, though naturally elated at his unexpected promotion, yet felt a heavy responsibility weighing down his spirits, and a presentiment that some evil was about to befall the idolized 'Countess of Pembroke' and her crew.

Upon the shore the crowd assembled to witness her departure was if possible more dense than before; but not now, as then, rose shoutings and cheerings and well-wishings. All, alas! felt that silence was the most appropriate for the occasion; and every individual preserved it.

At the appointed hour the signal of sailing was given. The anchor was weighed, the sails filled with the chill north wind, and slowly the gallant ship stood down the harbor. Soon cries from many mouths announced that a new object of interest had been discovered; a large crow was seen hovering over the ship, now rising and now sinking, and flapping its black funeral wings over it. In those days of superstition an incident like this was, in the absence of every other sign, sufficient of itself to create consternation and dismay. In this instance, when so many omens of evil had occurred, it may well be supposed that the appearance of the dark messenger did not tend to allay the fears and misgivings of the town's-people. The motions of the bird were watched by all with intense interest. After hanging over the ship, or sweeping round for ten or fifteen minutes, now flapping so far away as to create hopes of its disappearance altogether, and then returning again to crush those hopes in the very bud, it finally settled down slowly, and alighted upon the main truck, where it remained until the ship herself was lost to the sight of all, save those who had trusted themselves to her strength, and that 'Eye that never sleeps.'

Slowly the multitude dispersed, with many shakings of the head and doubtful looks, with many whisperings among themselves, and many misgivings of the heart, that they had taken their last look of the gallant bark.

* * * * *

A MONTH had rolled away since the departure of the ship, when one night the inhabitants of Salem were aroused from their beds, to behold a strange sight in the heavens. It was that of a large ship, apparently under full sail, with every yard braced up, and every square inch of canvass spread to its full extent; but from every point, from deck to trucks and from stem to stern, wide lurid flames of fire were streaming up, with fearful and appalling brilliancy. For two more nights the same scene was witnessed, with this difference on the third, that the ship was seen to go down very suddenly below the horizon in the height of the conflagration, instead of fading away gradually, as on the two previous nights. It 'was an honest ghost' of THE DOOMED SHIP. The 'Countess of Pembroke' was never heard of more.

THE DEITY.

BY MISS MARY GARDINER, OF SHELTER-ISLAND, SUFFOLK COUNTY.

BENEATH the quenchless light Of the broad day-god's life-imparting ray, Wrapt in the gloomy clouds of mental night That round him thickly lay, The ancient Persian bowed, and at that shrine Worshipped the glorious effluence as divine.

THOU! whose creative voice Called from the depths of chaos form and might, Bade at a word unnumbered worlds rejoice In that effulgent light; Sun of the Universe! to THEE I bow, Almighty GOD! list to my humble offering now!

Before the stars of night In circling systems moved through yonder sky, THOU! from Eternity's unmeasured height, Wrapt in immensity, Beheld the earth chaotic solitude, And ages roll away in their infinitude.

Can human thought explore The boundaries of THY kingdom, or define Mid all the orbs that sweep the blue vault o'er Those that remotest shine? E'en Science pauses in her proud career, Furls her tired wing and sinks o'erwhelmed to Earth's low sphere.

Before her glancing eye The clouds of ignorance have rolled away; She calls the lightning from its throne on high, And marks the planet's way; Bids the frail bark o'er Ocean's bosom glide, And from her mystic cells rolls back the heaving tide.

And in her search sublime, Measures the sunbeam in its trackless flight; Earth yields her secrets, and both space and time Are subject to her might: E'en from the unseen air the mysteries flee, But THOU! Eternal ONE! no searching can find THEE!

THY voice of majesty Throughout creation's wide expanse is heard; In the low South-wind's fitful melody, The music of the bird; When by the tempest-breath the clouds are riven, And the loud thunder peals through the deep vault of Heaven.

And in the measured chime Of low waves dashing on the sunny shore, The streamlet's flow in the bright southern clime, The cataract's loud roar, And the hollow moan of the restless sea, When the storm-spirit sweeps on pinion swift and free.

And to the human soul, Speaks not THY still small voice in accents strong? Bidding Remorse like scorching lava roll Its fearful tide along; Blighting and withering all that yet is fair, As blasting winds that sweep upon the desert air.

And when the burning tears Of heart-felt penitence before THEE fall, And from thick gloom and agonizing fears Ascends the fervent call; THY voice of mercy bids Hope's angel form Shine like a beacon-light amid the wild night-storm.

It soothes to calm repose The fitful quivering of the spirit's lyre, And falls, as rain-drops o'er the dying rose, On passion's wasting fire; It bids us hasten o'er Life's waters home, As summer breezes call the bird o'er ocean's foam.

* * * * *

Lo! in yon darkened room Glad angels wait to bear a soul away; Death waves his pinions, and the fearful tomb Opes to receive its prey: Low, dirge-like music stirs the troubled air; Hushed is each voice, each breath, for THOU, O GOD! art there.

Swift o'er the marble brow The cold dews gather; oh! what hand shall guide The trembling spirit on its passage now To regions yet untried? Raise the dark veil hung o'er that mystic land, And light the wanderer's path from time's receding sand?

The starless night of thought Was lit at Mercy's shrine with purest ray, And heavenly truth so long, so vainly sought, Shone forth in its mid-day; As angels tuned their harps to higher strains, And rose the star of peace o'er Bethlehem's hallowed plains.

Then the INCARNATE came, Veiling his God-head in the human form; Not with the clarion's voice, the trump of fame, The earthquake and the storm: He came--the living GOD, creation's King! Humble, despised, unknown--joy, 'peace on earth' to bring!

Oh' fearful was the hour When Vengeance poured on his devoted head The wrath of ages, and stern Death had power His fiery shafts to shed; The sun his radiance veiled in midnight gloom, And woke to life and light the tenants of the tomb.

Mysterious Three in One! My spirit bows, by matchless love o'erwrought; Thyself all-knowing yet by all unknown, Beyond the height of thought! Justice and Mercy in thy works combine, As o'er the raging flood the glittering rain-bows shine.

THOU watchest o'er the birth Of every flower that springs to bloom and die, The sparrow falls not to the breast of earth Unnoticed by thine eye; And suns and systems at thy glance have passed. As withered leaves are swept before the wintry blast.

And when the voice of Time Shall chant the death-dirge o'er Earth's ruined fanes; When the archangel's voice in tones sublime Shall echo o'er her plains; Unchanged, unchanging, THOU shalt rise o'er all, While Nature's face shall rest beneath Oblivion's pall.

MIND OR INSTINCT.

AN INQUIRY CONCERNING THE MANIFESTATION OF MIND BY THE LOWER ORDERS OF ANIMALS.

'IN some are found Such teachable and apprehensive parts, That man's attainments in his own concerns, Matched with th'expertness of the brutes in their's, Are ofttimes vanquished and thrown far behind.'

COWPER.

THE cultivation of the intellectual endowments of man has raised him to such a degree above the other orders of animated existence, that he claims the exclusive possession of the Thinking Principle; forgetting, while he surveys the monuments of human intelligence, that they are but the evidence of his advancement from the savage state; and that while he remained in that primitive condition he might be considered, in fact, as many degrees below his present position in point of mental capacity, as above that of the most sagacious animals;[1] forgetting also that had he continued in a state of nature, like some of the tribes of Africa or America, leaving others to judge of his intelligence from the rude vestiges of his civilization exclusively, they could scarcely attribute to him more intellect than they would to the beaver, or even to the ant.

[1] THE term 'Animals' will be confined to orders below Man.

Animals, unlike men, do not improve materially in different generations, because they generally require no artificial means to promote their happiness; neither have they the gregarious principle to the same extent as man; but some of those which have, exhibit the extraordinary intelligence which will presently be cited.

The object of this inquiry is to ascertain, by the examination of facts, whether the principle called INSTINCT manifests the same intellectual qualities as MIND, without having any reference to its _moral_ attributes. It is not claimed that each one possesses that rare combination of mental properties which distinguishes the human species; but merely that there is a similitude in the intellectual operation of memory, in men and in animals; the same of abstraction, of imagination, and of reason or judgment, though possessed among all in different degrees, and under different modifications.

The word _Instinct_ is employed to designate the exhibitions of animal nature in their endless varieties. It is a principle which performs the same office in regulating their conduct, that the mind of man does in directing his. It is usually defined, an inward persuasion, a spontaneous impulse, prompting animals to provide for their safety, and administer to their wants; but in certain cases the term has been ennobled by the substitution of sagacity, intelligence, cunning, when the gleamings of intelligence have been too certain to be misunderstood. The truth is, as of the human mind, we know nothing of its essence, of its ultimate nature; and our investigations, as in mind, must be limited to a knowledge of its properties or qualities.

This inquiry, then, will be confined to the intellectual qualities of Instinct; and if, from facts carefully examined, it can be deduced that an animal remembers, we must from necessity concede to his instinct the quality of memory; or if he exhibit an exact knowledge of means and their end, by applying the means to effect the end, we must attribute to his instinct the quality of judging; and the same of other instinctive operations.

It is important for even a tolerable elucidation of this subject, to present the utmost number of ways in which the manifestations of instinct are analogous to the manifestations of mind, as exhibited by the human race; and in doing this, no apology is deemed necessary for the introduction of numerous instances from Natural History, and from common observation.

I. OF THE MEMORY OF THE PRINCIPLE CALLED INSTINCT.

ILLUSTRATIONS.--In autumn, says HUBER, honey has been placed in a window, where the bees resorted to it in multitudes. It was removed, and the shutters closed during winter; but when opened again on the return of Spring, the bees came back, though no honey remained; undoubtedly they remembered it; therefore an interval of several weeks did not obliterate the impression they had received.--_Selections from Em. Nat's, but entitled Buffon's Nat. Hist., Vide V., 137._

A sailor who had been strolling round Wombwell's menagerie, loitering here and there to identify some of the animals with those he had seen in far distant climes, was attracted by the strange noise of a tiger, who seemed irritated beyond endurance. Jack sought the keeper, to inquire the cause of so singular a display of feeling, which became more boisterous the nearer he approached the animal. The keeper replied that the behavior of the tiger indicated either that he was vastly pleased, or annoyed; upon this the sailor again approached the den, and after gazing at the animal a few moments, during which he became frantic with seeming rage, discovered him to be the same animal brought to England under the special care of the weather-beaten tar. Jack was now as delighted as it appeared the tiger was in recognizing his old friend, and he desired to enter the den, for the purpose as he said of 'shaking a fist' with the beautiful animal. The iron door was opened, and Jack was permitted to enter. The affection of the animal was now shown by caressing and licking the pleased sailor, whom he seemed to welcome with the heartiest satisfaction; and when the honest tar left the den, the anguish of the creature appeared almost insupportable.--_London Journal. Buff., II., 88, a like case._

A dog one afternoon was passing through a field near Dartmouth, England, where a washerwoman had hung her linen to dry. He stopped and surveyed one particular shirt with attention; then seizing it, he dragged it away through the dirt to his master, whose shirt it proved to be.--_Buff., I., 290._

Warren Hastings, Governor-General of India, having dismissed the keeper of one of his elephants, the animal refused obedience to any other, and finally escaped to the wild herd. Ten years afterward the old keeper of the elephant found him in a keddah, and he instantly submitted himself to him.--_Buff., N. H., II., 190._

We need seek no clearer evidence of memory in its purest sense, than these instances afford. They are the strong arguments of fact, and need but a momentary examination. Instances however can be found, in which the memory of instinct is even more powerful and retentive than the memory of mind. The homeward flight of the carrier-pigeon is a consecutive remembrance of places; and who, unaided, could retrace his steps for hundreds of miles, after one outward passage? Instances of local memory are familiar to all. The fox remembers his burrow; the bird her nest; the bee its hive; for, if they did not recall the fact of having occupied these places before, they would be found as frequently in the burrow or hive of another as their own; whereas common observation teaches the contrary. The parrot also, and the jay, have been noted for their memory. The cat and the pet sheep distinguish their favorite in the family from day to day; while the dog welcomes the return of his master with manifestations of remembrance as conclusive as the remembrance of the child or the wife.

Our knowledge of the qualities of instinct is derived from actions only; of mind, from words and actions. But these qualities can be inferred as legitimately from the latter, under proper restrictions, as from both; and if we should investigate the properties of mind from the actions of men exclusively, we could not arrive at them with any greater certainty than we can at the properties of instinct.

From the above illustrations, (if they were needed,) the conclusion is irresistible, that Instinct remembers; and all the phenomena of this memory are identical, both in analysis and synthesis, with the phenomena of memory in the human mind. No shade of distinction can be taken, except it be in the degree of strength; and on these terms, while the mass of animals would fall below man, some would rise above him.

II. OF THE PROCESS OF ABSTRACTION BY INSTINCT.

ILLUSTRATIONS.--The beavers begin to assemble in the month of June or July, in order to form a society, which is to continue for the greatest part of the year. They arrive in numbers from every side, and presently form a company of two or three hundred. The place of meeting is commonly the place where they fix their abode, and this is always by the side of some lake or river; if it be a running stream, which is subject to floods and falls, they then set about building a dam, or pier that crosses the river, so as to form a dead water in that part which lies above and below. This dam or pier is often four-score or an hundred feet long, and ten or twelve feet thick at the base: the part of the river over which this dam is usually built, is where it is the most shallow, and where some great tree is found growing by the side of the stream. This they pitch upon as proper for making the principal part in their building; and though it is often thicker than a man's body, they yet instantly set about gnawing it down.--_Buff., II., 24._ NOTE.--This is fallen across the stream. They then sharpen stakes, and fix them in the bed of the stream, the upper end resting against the tree.

The fox usually digs his hole in the edge of a wood, or the side of a bank; and in the vicinity of a farm-house. He chooses a dry and secluded spot, preferring a sandy soil.

The tigress, to oppose the daring invaders of her den, braves every danger. On such occasions she pursues the spoiler with an enmity the most inveterate; and he, contented to lose a part in order to save a part, is frequently obliged to drop one of her cubs. With this she immediately returns to her den, and again pursues him; he then drops another; and by the time she has returned with that, he generally escapes with the remainder.--_Buff., II., 81._

By the process of abstraction, facts are separated from their original relations, and some of them contemplated apart from the rest. For example: a stream is considered with reference to its width, depth, and rapidity, or rather each property in its turn. In the familiar instance of the fox, we invariably find his burrow in a dry and secluded place; and in a sandy or earthy soil, unless it be in natural crevices. From these facts the inference necessarily results, that he had examined the location with reference to each of these requisites separately; unless instinct can entertain two questions at the same instant, which is above the power of mind; otherwise, his habitation being destitute of one of these essentials, would be useless, and the poor fox be doomed to toil in blind experiment, until chance directed him to a place which combined these and numerous other elements of convenience which the dainty creature might desire, and of which we can have no knowledge.

The beaver, in selecting a site for his dam, furnishes a stronger and more interesting specimen of the abstract reasoning of instinct. The depth, width, and rapidity of the stream; banks sufficiently high to prevent an overflow; the tree upon its edge; the vicinity of food, and materials for their work; all these are to be considered in turn; and if any of these requisites are deficient, a new place must be sought. If instinct proceeded at random, the multitude of disadvantages would preclude success; their labors might be cast away upon a stream too deep and rapid, or too wide, or in a barren region. But it is asserted that instinct spontaneously impels all animals to the end they seek; than which nothing can be more irrational. It is endowing them with a principle which leads unerringly to results that man might fail to ascertain by the aid of science. It is in effect endowing them with a principle higher than mind; partaking something of DEITY itself. When man's attention has been arrested by their ingenuity or intelligence, he has passed them over as the workings of mysterious instinct; and indifference has led him into such absurdities. We have seen, on the authority of naturalists, that the beaver's dam is always found at a place which furnishes certain natural advantages. Let us now institute a comparison. A student wishes to study Algebra; we next see him with a slate, algebra, and pencil in hand. The three, with reference to the end designed, make but one object or means; and the inference is natural, that he had abstractly considered the office and necessity of each. On the other hand, the beavers announce their intention of building a dam, by assembling in June and forming a company. We next see them cutting a tree to fall across the creek. The tree, and the width, depth, and nature of the bed of the stream, make but one object or means, as in the other case; and the inference is equally natural and necessary, that they had abstractly considered these elements of fitness, before they selected this particular site, in preference to another.

Comparison is also involved in this selection of a place; and in the execution of the work, reasoning upon the relations of things, as distinguished from a consecutive consideration of their properties. Figure, motion, rest, space, and number are abstract terms. A case in number only has been referred to. It would be a singular supposition, that the dam did not know the number of her offspring, if the proof, from the well-known habits of the tigress, could not be furnished.

Again: the eagle builds her nest on the most rugged cliff, and in a region scarcely inhabited by man, her only formidable enemy. She might find a lofty cliff, with the plains below teeming with population, or an uninhabited region without a cliff; neither of which would answer; and to determine whether a given place combined these requisites of safety, she must consider it with reference to each of these properties separately; which would be the simple process of abstraction. The arrangement of objects into genera and species being a higher process, and the useful result of abstraction, the inquiry might be extended to ascertain, if possible, whether animals ever exhibit such classification in practice.