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Mark Twain > The Enemy Conquered; or, Love Triumphant > Story

The Enemy Conquered; or, Love Triumphant

Story


Sweet girl, thy smiles are full of charms,

Thy voice is sweeter still,

It fills the breast with fond alarms,

Echoed by every rill.


I begin this little work with an eulogy upon woman, who has ever
been distinguished for her perseverance, her constancy, and her
devoted attention to those upon whom she has been pleased to place
her AFFECTIONS. Many have been the themes upon which writers and
public speakers have dwelt with intense and increasing interest.
Among these delightful themes stands that of woman, the balm
to all our sighs and disappointments, and the most pre-eminent
of all other topics. Here the poet and orator have stood and gazed
with wonder and with admiration; they have dwelt upon her innocence,
the ornament of all her virtues. First viewing her external charms,
such as set forth in her form and benevolent countenance, and then passing
to the deep hidden springs of loveliness and disinterested devotion.
In every clime, and in every age, she has been the pride of her NATION.
Her watchfulness is untiring; she who guarded the sepulcher was
the first to approach it, and the last to depart from its awful
yet sublime scene. Even here, in this highly favored land,
we look to her for the security of our institutions, and for our
future greatness as a nation. But, strange as it may appear,
woman's charms and virtues are but slightly appreciated by thousands.
Those who should raise the standard of female worth, and paint her
value with her virtues, in living colors, upon the banners that are
fanned by the zephyrs of heaven, and hand them down to posterity
as emblematical of a rich inheritance, do not properly estimate them.

Man is not sensible, at all times, of the nature and the emotions
which bear that name; he does not understand, he will not comprehend;
his intelligence has not expanded to that degree of glory which
drinks in the vast revolution of humanity, its end, its mighty
destination, and the causes which operated, and are still operating,
to produce a more elevated station, and the objects which energize
and enliven its consummation. This he is a stranger to;
he is not aware that woman is the recipient of celestial love,
and that man is dependent upon her to perfect his character;
that without her, philosophically and truly speaking, the brightest
of his intelligence is but the coldness of a winter moon,
whose beams can produce no fruit, whose solar light is not its own,
but borrowed from the great dispenser of effulgent beauty.
We have no disposition in the world to flatter the fair sex,
we would raise them above those dastardly principles which only
exist in little souls, contracted hearts, and a distracted brain.
Often does she unfold herself in all her fascinating loveliness,
presenting the most captivating charms; yet we find man frequently
treats such purity of purpose with indifference. Why does he do it?
Why does he baffle that which is inevitably the source of his
better days? Is he so much of a stranger to those excellent qualities
as not to appreciate woman, as not to have respect to her dignity?
Since her art and beauty first captivated man, she has been his
delight and his comfort; she has shared alike in his misfortunes
and in his prosperity.

Whenever the billows of adversity and the tumultuous waves of trouble
beat high, her smiles subdue their fury. Should the tear of sorrow
and the mournful sigh of grief interrupt the peace of his mind,
her voice removes them all, and she bends from her circle to encourage
him onward. When darkness would obscure his mind, and a thick cloud
of gloom would bewilder its operations, her intelligent eye darts
a ray of streaming light into his heart. Mighty and charming is that
disinterested devotion which she is ever ready to exercise toward man,
not waiting till the last moment of his danger, but seeks to relieve
him in his early afflictions. It gushes forth from the expansive
fullness of a tender and devoted heart, where the noblest, the purest,
and the most elevated and refined feelings are matured and developed
in those may kind offices which invariably make her character.

In the room of sorrow and sickness, this unequaled characteristic
may always been seen, in the performance of the most charitable acts;
nothing that she can do to promote the happiness of him who she
claims to be her protector will be omitted; all is invigorated by
the animating sunbeams which awaken the heart to songs of gaiety.
Leaving this point, to notice another prominent consideration,
which is generally one of great moment and of vital importance.
Invariably she is firm and steady in all her pursuits and aims.
There is required a combination of forces and extreme opposition to
drive her from her position; she takes her stand, not to be moved by
the sound of Apollo's lyre or the curved bow of pleasure.

Firm and true to what she undertakes, and that which she requires
by her own aggrandizement, and regards as being within the strict rules
of propriety, she will remain stable and unflinching to the last.
A more genuine principle is not to be found in the most determined,
resolute heart of man. For this she deserves to be held in the
highest commendation, for this she deserves the purest of all
other blessings, and for this she deserves the most laudable reward
of all others. It is a noble characteristic and is worthy of imitation
of any age. And when we look at it in one particular aspect,
it is still magnified, and grows brighter and brighter the more we
reflect upon its eternal duration. What will she not do, when her
word as well as her affections and LOVE are pledged to her lover?
Everything that is dear to her on earth, all the hospitalities
of kind and loving parents, all the sincerity and loveliness
of sisters, and the benevolent devotion of brothers, who have
surrounded her with every comfort; she will forsake them all,
quit the harmony and sweet sound of the lute and the harp,
and throw herself upon the affections of some devoted admirer,
in whom she fondly hopes to find more than she has left behind,
which is not often realized by many. Truth and virtue all combined!
How deserving our admiration and love! Ah cruel would it be in man,
after she has thus manifested such an unshaken confidence in him,
and said by her determination to abandon all the endearments and
blandishments of home, to act a villainous part, and prove a traitor
in the revolution of his mission, and then turn Hector over the
innocent victim whom he swore to protect, in the presence of Heaven,
recorded by the pen of an angel.

Striking as this train may unfold itself in her character,
and as pre-eminent as it may stand among the fair display of her
other qualities, yet there is another, which struggles into existence,
and adds an additional luster to what she already possesses.
I mean that disposition in woman which enables her, in sorrow,
in grief, and in distress, to bear all with enduring patience.
This she has done, and can and will do, amid the din of war and
clash of arms. Scenes and occurrences which, to every appearance,
are calculated to rend the heart with the profoundest emotions of trouble,
do not fetter that exalted principle imbued in her very nature.
It is true, her tender and feeling heart may often be moved (as she
is thus constituted), but she is not conquered, she has not given up
to the harlequin of disappointments, her energies have not become
clouded in the last movement of misfortune, but she is continually
invigorated by the archetype of her affections. She may bury her face
in her hands, and let the tear of anguish roll, she may promenade
the delightful walks of some garden, decorated with all the flowers
of nature, or she may steal out along some gently rippling stream,
and there, as the silver waters uninterruptedly move forward,
shed her silent tears; they mingle with the waves, and take a last
farewell of their agitated home, to seek a peaceful dwelling among
the rolling floods; yet there is a voice rushing from her breast,
that proclaims VICTORY along the whole line and battlement of
her affections. That voice is the voice of patience and resignation;
that voice is one that bears everything calmly and dispassionately,
amid the most distressing scenes; when the fates are arrayed against
her peace, and apparently plotting for her destruction, still she
is resigned.

Woman's affections are deep, consequently her troubles may be made
to sink deep. Although you may not be able to mark the traces of her
grief and the furrowings of her anguish upon her winning countenance,
yet be assured they are nevertheless preying upon her inward person,
sapping the very foundation of that heart which alone was made
for the weal and not the woe of man. The deep recesses of the soul
are fields for their operation. But they are not destined simply
to take the regions of the heart for their dominion, they are not
satisfied merely with interrupting her better feelings; but after
a while you may see the blooming cheek beginning to droop and fade,
her intelligent eye no longer sparkles with the starry light of heaven,
her vibrating pulse long since changed its regular motion, and her
palpitating bosom beats once more for the midday of her glory.
Anxiety and care ultimately throw her into the arms of the haggard
and grim monster death. But, oh, how patient, under every
pining influence! Let us view the matter in bolder colors;
see her when the dearest object of her affections recklessly seeks
every bacchanalian pleasure, contents himself with the last rubbish
of creation. With what solicitude she awaits his return! Sleep fails
to perform its office--she weeps while the nocturnal shades of the
night triumph in the stillness. Bending over some favorite book,
whilst the author throws before her mind the most beautiful imagery,
she startles at every sound. The midnight silence is broken
by the solemn announcement of the return of another morning.
He is still absent; she listens for that voice which has so often
been greeted by the melodies of her own; but, alas! stern silence
is all that she receives for her vigilance.

Mark her unwearied watchfulness, as the night passes away.
At last, brutalized by the accursed thing, he staggers along
with rage, and, shivering with cold, he makes his appearance.
Not a murmur is heard from her lips. On the contrary, she meets him
with a smile--she caresses him with tender arms, with all the gentleness
and softness of her sex. Here, then, is seen her disposition,
beautifully arrayed. Woman, thou art more to be admired than the spicy
gales of Arabia, and more sought for than the gold of Golconda.
We believe that Woman should associate freely with man, and we believe
that it is for the preservation of her rights. She should become
acquainted with the metaphysical designs of those who condescended
to sing the siren song of flattery. This, we think, should be
according to the unwritten law of decorum, which is stamped upon
every innocent heart. The precepts of prudery are often steeped
in the guilt of contamination, which blasts the expectations of
better moments. Truth, and beautiful dreams--loveliness, and delicacy
of character, with cherished affections of the ideal woman--
gentle hopes and aspirations, are enough to uphold her in the storms
of darkness, without the transferred colorings of a stained sufferer.
How often have we seen it in our public prints, that woman occupies
a false station in the world! and some have gone so far as to say it
was an unnatural one. So long has she been regarded a weak creature,
by the rabble and illiterate--they have looked upon her as an
insufficient actress on the great stage of human life--a mere puppet,
to fill up the drama of human existence--a thoughtless, inactive being--
that she has too often come to the same conclusion herself, and has
sometimes forgotten her high destination, in the meridian of her glory.
We have but little sympathy or patience for those who treat her as
a mere Rosy Melindi--who are always fishing for pretty complements--
who are satisfied by the gossamer of Romance, and who can be
allured by the verbosity of high-flown words, rich in language,
but poor and barren in sentiment. Beset, as she has been, by the
intellectual vulgar, the selfish, the designing, the cunning, the hidden,
and the artful--no wonder she has sometimes folded her wings in despair,
and forgotten her HEAVENLY mission in the delirium of imagination;
no wonder she searches out some wild desert, to find a peaceful home.
But this cannot always continue. A new era is moving gently onward,
old things are rapidly passing away; old superstitions, old prejudices,
and old notions are now bidding farewell to their old associates
and companions, and giving way to one whose wings are plumed
with the light of heaven and tinged by the dews of the morning.
There is a remnant of blessedness that clings to her in spite of all
evil influence, there is enough of the Divine Master left to accomplish
the noblest work ever achieved under the canopy of the vaulted skies;
and that time is fast approaching, when the picture of the true
woman will shine from its frame of glory, to captivate, to win back,
to restore, and to call into being once more, THE OBJECT OF HER MISSION.


Star of the brave! thy glory shed,

O'er all the earth, thy army led--

Bold meteor of immortal birth!

Why come from Heaven to dwell on Earth?


Mighty and glorious are the days of youth; happy the moments
of the LOVER, mingled with smiles and tears of his devoted,
and long to be remembered are the achievements which he gains with a
palpitating heart and a trembling hand. A bright and lovely dawn,
the harbinger of a fair and prosperous day, had arisen over the
beautiful little village of Cumming, which is surrounded by the
most romantic scenery in the Cherokee country. Brightening clouds
seemed to rise from the mist of the fair Chattahoochee, to spread
their beauty over the the thick forest, to guide the hero whose
bosom beats with aspirations to conquer the enemy that would tarnish
his name, and to win back the admiration of his long-tried friend.
He endeavored to make his way through Sawney's Mountain, where many meet
to catch the gales that are continually blowing for the refreshment
of the stranger and the traveler. Surrounded as he was by hills
on every side, naked rocks dared the efforts of his energies.
Soon the sky became overcast, the sun buried itself in the clouds,
and the fair day gave place to gloomy twilight, which lay heavily
on the Indian Plains. He remembered an old Indian Castle,
that once stood at the foot of the mountain. He thought if he could
make his way to this, he would rest contented for a short time.
The mountain air breathed fragrance--a rosy tinge rested on the glassy
waters that murmured at its base. His resolution soon brought him
to the remains of the red man's hut: he surveyed with wonder and
astonishment the decayed building, which time had buried in the dust,
and thought to himself, his happiness was not yet complete.
Beside the shore of the brook sat a young man, about eighteen or twenty,
who seemed to be reading some favorite book, and who had a remarkably
noble countenance--eyes which betrayed more than a common mind.
This of course made the youth a welcome guest, and gained him
friends in whatever condition of life he might be placed.
The traveler observed that he was a well-built figure, which showed
strength and grace in every movement. He accordingly addressed
him in quite a gentlemanly manner, and inquired of him the way
to the village. After he had received the desired information,
and was about taking his leave, the youth said, "Are you not
Major Elfonzo, the great musician--the champion of a noble cause--
the modern Achilles, who gained so many victories in the Florida War?"
"I bear that name," said the Major, "and those titles,
trusting at the same time that the ministers of grace will carry
me triumphantly through all my laudable undertakings, and if,"
continued the Major, "you, sir, are the patronizer of noble deeds,
I should like to make you my confidant and learn your address."
The youth looked somewhat amazed, bowed low, mused for a moment,
and began: "My name is Roswell. I have been recently admitted
to the bar, and can only give a faint outline of my future success
in that honorable profession; but I trust, sir, like the Eagle,
I shall look down from lofty rocks upon the dwellings of man, and shall
ever be ready to give you any assistance in my official capacity,
and whatever this muscular arm of mine can do, whenever it shall be
called from its buried GREATNESS." The Major grasped him by the hand,
and exclaimed: "O! thou exalted spirit of inspiration--thou flame
of burning prosperity, may the Heaven-directed blaze be the glare
of thy soul, and battle down every rampart that seems to impede
your progress!"

The road which led to the town presented many attractions.
Elfonzo had bid farewell to the youth of deep feeling, and was
not wending his way to the dreaming spot of his fondness.
The south winds whistled through the woods, as the waters dashed
against the banks, as rapid fire in the pent furnace roars.
This brought him to remember while alone, that he quietly left behind
the hospitality of a father's house, and gladly entered the world,
with higher hopes than are often realized. But as he journeyed onward,
he was mindful of the advice of his father, who had often looked
sadly on the ground when tears of cruelly deceived hope moistened
his eye. Elfonzo had been somewhat of a dutiful son; yet fond
of the amusements of life--had been in distant lands--had enjoyed
the pleasure of the world and had frequently returned to the scenes
of his boyhood, almost destitute of many of the comforts of life.
In this condition, he would frequently say to his father, "Have I
offended you, that you look upon me as a stranger, and frown upon
me with stinging looks? Will you not favor me with the sound of
your voice? If I have trampled upon your veneration, or have spread
a humid veil of darkness around your expectations, send me back into
the world where no heart beats for me--where the foot of man has
never yet trod; but give me at least one kind word--allow me to come
into the presence sometimes of thy winter-worn locks." "Forbid it,
Heaven, that I should be angry with thee," answered the father,
"my son, and yet I send thee back to the children of the world--
to the cold charity of the combat, and to a land of victory. I read
another destiny in thy countenance--I learn thy inclinations from
the flame that has already kindled in my soul a stranger sensation.
It will seek thee, my dear ELFONZO, it will find thee--thou canst
not escape that lighted torch, which shall blot out from the
remembrance of men a long train of prophecies which they have
foretold against thee. I once thought not so. Once, I was blind;
but now the path of life is plain before me, and my sight is clear;
yet Elfonzo, return to thy worldly occupation--take again in thy
hand that chord of sweet sounds--struggle with the civilized world,
and with your own heart; fly swiftly to the enchanted ground--
let the night-OWL send forth its screams from the stubborn oak--
let the sea sport upon the beach, and the stars sing together;
but learn of these, Elfonzo, thy doom, and thy hiding-place. Our most
innocent as well as our most lawful DESIRES must often be denied us,
that we may learn to sacrifice them to a Higher will."

Remembering such admonitions with gratitude, Elfonzo was immediately
urged by the recollection of his father's family to keep moving.
His steps became quicker and quicker--he hastened through the PINY woods,
dark as the forest was, and with joy he very soon reached the little
village or repose, in whose bosom rested the boldest chivalry.
His close attention to every important object--his modest questions
about whatever was new to him--his reverence for wise old age,
and his ardent desire to learn many of the fine arts, soon brought him
into respectable notice.

One mild winter day as he walked along the streets toward the Academy,
which stood upon a small eminence, surrounded by native growth--
some venerable in its appearance, others young and prosperous--
all seemed inviting, and seemed to be the very place for learning as
well as for genius to spend its research beneath its spreading shades.
He entered its classic walls in the usual mode of southern manners.
The principal of the Institution begged him to be seated and listen
to the recitations that were going on. He accordingly obeyed
the request, and seemed to be much pleased. After the school
was dismissed, and the young hearts regained their freedom,
with the songs of the evening, laughing at the anticipated pleasures
of a happy home, while others tittered at the actions of the past day,
he addressed the teacher in a tone that indicated a resolution--
with an undaunted mind. He said he had determined to become
a student, if he could meet with his approbation. "Sir," said he,
"I have spent much time in the world. I have traveled among
the uncivilized inhabitants of America. I have met with friends,
and combated with foes; but none of these gratify my ambition,
or decide what is to be my destiny. I see the learned would
have an influence with the voice of the people themselves.
The despoilers of the remotest kingdoms of the earth refer their
differences to this class of persons. This the illiterate and
inexperienced little dream of; and now if you will receive me as I am,
with these deficiencies--with all my misguided opinions, I will give
you my honor, sir, that I will never disgrace the Institution,
or those who have placed you in this honorable station."
The instructor, who had met with many disappointments, knew how to
feel for a stranger who had been thus turned upon the charities
of an unfeeling community. He looked at him earnestly, and said:
"Be of good cheer--look forward, sir, to the high destination you
may attain. Remember, the more elevated the mark at which you aim,
the more sure, the more glorious, the more magnificent the prize."
From wonder to wonder, his encouragement led the impatient listener.
A stranger nature bloomed before him--giant streams promised
him success--gardens of hidden treasures opened to his view.
All this, so vividly described, seemed to gain a new witchery from his
glowing fancy.

In 1842 he entered the class, and made rapid progress in the English
and Latin departments. Indeed, he continued advancing with such
rapidity that he was like to become the first in his class,
and made such unexpected progress, and was so studious, that he had
almost forgotten the pictured saint of his affections. The fresh
wreaths of the pine and cypress had waited anxiously to drop once
more the dews of Heavens upon the heads of those who had so often
poured forth the tender emotions of their souls under its boughs.
He was aware of the pleasure that he had seen there. So one evening,
as he was returning from his reading, he concluded he would pay a visit
to this enchanting spot. Little did he think of witnessing a shadow
of his former happiness, though no doubt he wished it might be so.
He continued sauntering by the roadside, meditating on the past.
The nearer he approached the spot, the more anxious he became.
At the moment a tall female figure flitted across his path, with a
bunch of roses in her hand; her countenance showed uncommon vivacity,
with a resolute spirit; her ivory teeth already appeared as she
smiled beautifully, promenading--while her ringlets of hair dangled
unconsciously around her snowy neck. Nothing was wanting to complete
her beauty. The tinge of the rose was in full bloom upon her cheek;
the charms of sensibility and tenderness were always her associates..
In Ambulinia's bosom dwelt a noble soul--one that never faded--
one that never was conquered. Her heart yielded to no feeling
but the love of Elfonzo, on whom she gazed with intense delight,
and to whom she felt herself more closely bound, because he sought
the hand of no other. Elfonzo was roused from his apparent reverie.
His books no longer were his inseparable companions--his thoughts
arrayed themselves to encourage him in the field of victory.
He endeavored to speak to his supposed Ambulinia, but his speech
appeared not in words. No, his effort was a stream of fire,
that kindled his soul into a flame of admiration, and carried
his senses away captive. Ambulinia had disappeared, to make him
more mindful of his duty. As she walked speedily away through
the piny woods she calmly echoed: "O! Elfonzo, thou wilt
now look from thy sunbeams. Thou shalt now walk in a new path--
perhaps thy way leads through darkness; but fear not, the stars
foretell happiness."

Not many days afterward, as surrounded by fragrant flowers she sat
one evening at twilight, to enjoy the cool breeze that whispered
notes of melody along the distant groves, the little birds perched
on every side, as if to watch the movements of their new visitor.
The bells were tolling when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild
wood flowers, holding in his hand his favorite instrument of music--
his eye continually searching for Ambulinia, who hardly seemed
to perceive him, as she played carelessly with the songsters
that hopped from branch to branch. Nothing could be more striking
than the difference between the two. Nature seemed to have given
the more tender soul to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous
to Ambulinia. A deep feeling spoke from the eyes of Elfonzo--
such a feeling as can only be expressed by those who are blessed
as admirers, and by those who are able to return the same with
sincerity of heart. He was a few years older than Ambulinia:
she had turned a little into her seventeenth. He had almost grown
up in the Cherokee country, with the same equal proportions as one
of the natives. But little intimacy had existed between them until
the year forty-one--because the youth felt that the character of such
a lovely girl was too exalted to inspire any other feeling than
that of quiet reverence. But as lovers will not always be insulted,
at all times and under all circumstances, by the frowns and cold
looks of crabbed old age, which should continually reflect dignity
upon those around, and treat unfortunate as well as the fortunate
with a graceful mien, he continued to use diligence and perseverance.
All this lighted a spark in his heart that changed his whole character,
and like the unyielding Deity that follows the storm to check its
rage in the forest, he resolves for the first time to shake off
his embarrassment and return where he had before only worshiped.

It could not escape Ambulinia's penetrating eye that he sought
an interview with her, which she as anxiously avoided, and assumed
a more distant calmness than before, seemingly to destroy all hope.
After many efforts and struggles with his own person, with timid
steps the Major approached the damsel, with the same caution
as he would have done in a field of battle. "Lady Ambulinia,"
said he, trembling, "I have long desired a moment like this.
I dare not let it escape. I fear the consequences; yet I hope
your indulgence will at least hear my petition. Can you not
anticipate what I would say, and what I am about to express?
Will not you, like Minerva, who sprung from the brain of Jupiter,
release me from thy winding chains or cure me--" "Say no more,
Elfonzo," answered Ambulinia, with a serious look, raising her hand
as if she intended to swear eternal hatred against the whole world;
"another lady in my place would have perhaps answered your question
in bitter coldness. I know not the little arts of my sex.
I care but little for the vanity of those who would chide me,
and am unwilling as well as shamed to be guilty of anything
that would lead you to think 'all is not gold that glitters';
so be not rash in your resolution. It is better to repent now than
to do it in a more solemn hour. Yes, I know what you would say.
I know you have a costly gift for me--the noblest that man can make--
YOUR HEART! you should not offer it to one so unworthy.
Heaven, you know, has allowed my father's house to be made a house
of solitude, a home of silent obedience, which my parents say
is more to be admired than big names and high-sounding titles.
Notwithstanding all this, let me speak the emotions of an honest heart;
allow me to say in the fullness of my hopes that I anticipate
better days. The bird may stretch its wings toward the sun,
which it can never reach; and flowers of the field appear to
ascend in the same direction, because they cannot do otherwise;
but man confides his complaints to the saints in whom he believes;
for in their abodes of light they know no more sorrow. From your
confession and indicative looks, I must be that person; if so,
deceive not yourself."

Elfonzo replied, "Pardon me, my dear madam, for my frankness.
I have loved you from my earliest days; everything grand and beautiful
hath borne the image of Ambulinia; while precipices on every hand
surrounded me, your GUARDIAN ANGEL stood and beckoned me away from
the deep abyss. In every trial, in every misfortune, I have met
with your helping hand; yet I never dreamed or dared to cherish
thy love till a voice impaired with age encouraged the cause,
and declared they who acquired thy favor should win a victory.
I saw how Leos worshipped thee. I felt my own unworthiness.
I began to KNOW JEALOUSY--a strong guest, indeed, in my bosom--
yet I could see if I gained your admiration Leos was to be my rival.
I was aware that he had the influence of your parents, and the wealth
of a deceased relative, which is too often mistaken for permanent
and regular tranquillity; yet I have determined by your permission
to beg an interest in your prayers--to ask you to animate my dropping
spirits by your smiles and your winning looks; for if you but speak
I shall be conqueror, my enemies shall stagger like Olympus shakes.
And though earth and sea may tremble, and the charioteer of the sun
may forget his dashing steed, yet I am assured that it is only
to arm me with divine weapons which will enable me to complete my
long-tried intention."

"Return to your self, Elfonzo," said Ambulinia, pleasantly; "a dream
of vision has disturbed your intellect; you are above the atmosphere,
dwelling in the celestial regions; nothing is there that urges
or hinders, nothing that brings discord into our present litigation.
I entreat you to condescend a little, and be a man, and forget it all.
When Homer describes the battle of the gods and noble men fighting
with giants and dragons, they represent under this image our struggles
with the delusions of our passions. You have exalted me, an unhappy girl,
to the skies; you have called me a saint, and portrayed in your
imagination an angel in human form. Let her remain such to you,
let her continue to be as you have supposed, and be assured that she
will consider a share in your esteem as her highest treasure.
Think not that I would allure you from the path in which your
conscience leads you; for you know I respect the conscience of others,
as I would die for my own. Elfonzo, if I am worthy of thy love,
let such conversation never again pass between us. Go, seek a nobler
theme! we will seek it in the stream of time as the sun set in
the Tigris." As she spake these words she grasped the hand of Elfonzo,
saying at the same time, "Peace and prosperity attend you, my hero:
be up and doing!" Closing her remarks with this expression,
she walked slowly away, leaving Elfonzo astonished and amazed.
He ventured not to follow or detain her. Here he stood alone,
gazing at the stars; confounded as he was, here he stood. The rippling
stream rolled on at his feet. Twilight had already begun to draw
her sable mantle over the earth, and now and then the fiery smoke
would ascend from the little town which lay spread out before him.
The citizens seemed to be full of life and good-humor; but poor Elfonzo
saw not a brilliant scene. No; his future life stood before him,
stripped of the hopes that once adorned all his sanguine desires.
"Alas!" said he, "am I now Grief's disappointed son at last."
Ambulinia's image rose before his fancy. A mixture of ambition
and greatness of soul moved upon his young heart, and encouraged
him to bear all his crosses with the patience of a Job,
notwithstanding he had to encounter with so many obstacles.
He still endeavored to prosecute his studies, and reasonable
progressed in his education. Still, he was not content; there was
something yet to be done before his happiness was complete.
He would visit his friends and acquaintances. They would invite him
to social parties, insisting that he should partake of the amusements
that were going on. This he enjoyed tolerably well. The ladies
and gentlemen were generally well pleased with the Major; as he
delighted all with his violin, which seemed to have a thousand chords--
more symphonious than the Muses of Apollo and more enchanting
than the ghost of the Hills. He passed some days in the country.
During that time Leos had made many calls upon Ambulinia, who was
generally received with a great deal of courtesy by the family.
They thought him to be a young man worthy of attention, though he
had but little in his soul to attract the attention or even win
the affections of her whose graceful manners had almost made
him a slave to every bewitching look that fell from her eyes.
Leos made several attempts to tell her of his fair prospects--
how much he loved her, and how much it would add to his bliss if he
could but think she would be willing to share these blessings
with him; but, choked by his undertaking, he made himself more like an
inactive drone than he did like one who bowed at beauty's shrine.

Elfonzo again wends his way to the stately walls and new-built village.
He now determines to see the end of the prophesy which had been
foretold to him. The clouds burst from his sight; he believes
if he can but see his Ambulinia, he can open to her view the bloody
altars that have been misrepresented to stigmatize his name.
He knows that her breast is transfixed with the sword of reason,
and ready at all times to detect the hidden villainy of her enemies.
He resolves to see her in her own home, with the consoling theme:
"'I can but perish if I go.' Let the consequences be what they may,"
said he, "if I die, it shall be contending and struggling for my
own rights."

Night had almost overtaken him when he arrived in town. Colonel Elder,
a noble-hearted, high-minded, and independent man, met him at
his door as usual, and seized him by the hand. "Well, Elfonzo,"
said the Colonel, "how does the world use you in your efforts?"
"I have no objection to the world," said Elfonzo, "but the people
are rather singular in some of their opinions." "Aye, well,"
said the Colonel, "you must remember that creation is made up of
many mysteries; just take things by the right handle; be always sure
you know which is the smooth side before you attempt your polish;
be reconciled to your fate, be it what it may; and never find fault
with your condition, unless your complaining will benefit it.
Perseverance is a principle that should be commendable in those who have
judgment to govern it. I should never had been so successful in my
hunting excursions had I waited till the deer, by some magic dream,
had been drawn to the muzzle of the gun before I made an attempt to fire
at the game that dared my boldness in the wild forest. The great
mystery in hunting seems to be--a good marksman, a resolute mind,
a fixed determination, and my world for it, you will never return
home without sounding your horn with the breath of a new victory.
And so with every other undertaking. Be confident that your ammunition
is of the right kind--always pull your trigger with a steady hand,
and so soon as you perceive a calm, touch her off, and the spoils
are yours."

This filled him with redoubled vigor, and he set out with a stronger
anxiety than ever to the home of Ambulinia. A few short steps soon
brought him to the door, half out of breath. He rapped gently.
Ambulinia, who sat in the parlor alone, suspecting Elfonzo was near,
ventured to the door, opened it, and beheld the hero, who stood
in an humble attitude, bowed gracefully, and as they caught each
other's looks the light of peace beamed from the eyes of Ambulinia.
Elfonzo caught the expression; a halloo of smothered shouts ran
through every vein, and for the first time he dared to impress a kiss
upon her cheek. The scene was overwhelming; had the temptation
been less animating, he would not have ventured to have acted
so contrary to the desired wish of his Ambulinia; but who could
have withstood the irrestistable temptation! What society condemns
the practice but a cold, heartless, uncivilized people that know
nothing of the warm attachments of refined society? Here the dead
was raised to his long-cherished hopes, and the lost was found.
Here all doubt and danger were buried in the vortex of oblivion;
sectional differences no longer disunited their opinions; like the freed
bird from the cage, sportive claps its rustling wings, wheels about
to heaven in a joyful strain, and raises its notes to the upper sky.
Ambulinia insisted upon Elfonzo to be seated, and give her a history
of his unnecessary absence; assuring him the family had retired,
consequently they would ever remain ignorant of his visit.
Advancing toward him, she gave a bright display of her rosy neck,
and from her head the ambrosial locks breathed divine fragrance;
her robe hung waving to his view, while she stood like a goddess
confessed before him.

"It does seem to me, my dear sir," said Ambulinia, "that you have
been gone an age. Oh, the restless hours I have spent since I last
saw you, in yon beautiful grove. There is where I trifled with your
feelings for the express purpose of trying your attachment for me.
I now find you are devoted; but ah! I trust you live not unguarded
by the powers of Heaven. Though oft did I refuse to join my hand
with thine, and as oft did I cruelly mock thy entreaties with
borrowed shapes: yes, I feared to answer thee by terms, in words
sincere and undissembled. O! could I pursue, and you have leisure
to hear the annals of my woes, the evening star would shut Heaven's
gates upon the impending day before my tale would be finished,
and this night would find me soliciting your forgiveness."

"Dismiss thy fears and thy doubts," replied Elfonzo.

"Look, O! look: that angelic look of thine--bathe not thy visage
in tears; banish those floods that are gathering; let my confession
and my presence bring thee some relief." "Then, indeed, I will
be cheerful," said Ambulinia, "and I think if we will go to the
exhibition this evening, we certainly will see something worthy
of our attention. One of the most tragical scenes is to be acted
that has ever been witnessed, and one that every jealous-hearted person
should learn a lesson from. It cannot fail to have a good effect,
as it will be performed by those who are young and vigorous,
and learned as well as enticing. You are aware, Major Elfonzo, who are
to appear on the stage, and what the characters are to represent."
"I am acquainted with the circumstances," replied Elfonzo, "and as I
am to be one of the musicians upon that interesting occasion,
I should be much gratified if you would favor me with your company
during the hours of the exercises."

"What strange notions are in your mind?" inquired Ambulinia.
"Now I know you have something in view, and I desire you to tell
me why it is that you are so anxious that I should continue
with you while the exercises are going on; though if you think I
can add to your happiness and predilections, I have no particular
objection to acquiesce in your request. Oh, I think I foresee,
now, what you anticipate." "And will you have the goodness to tell
me what you think it will be?" inquired Elfonzo. "By all means,"
answered Ambulinia; "a rival, sir, you would fancy in your own mind;
but let me say for you, fear not! fear not! I will be one of the
last persons to disgrace my sex by thus encouraging every one who
may feel disposed to visit me, who may honor me with their graceful
bows and their choicest compliments. It is true that young men too
often mistake civil politeness for the finer emotions of the heart,
which is tantamount to courtship; but, ah! how often are they deceived,
when they come to test the weight of sunbeams with those on whose
strength hangs the future happiness of an untried life."

The people were now rushing to the Academy with impatient anxiety;
the band of music was closely followed by the students; then the parents
and guardians; nothing interrupted the glow of spirits which ran
through every bosom, tinged with the songs of a Virgil and the tide
of a Homer. Elfonzo and Ambulinia soon repaired to the scene,
and fortunately for them both the house was so crowded that they took
their seats together in the music department, which was not in view
of the auditory. This fortuitous circumstances added more the bliss
of the Major than a thousand such exhibitions would have done.
He forgot that he was man; music had lost its charms for him;
whenever he attempted to carry his part, the string of the instrument
would break, the bow became stubborn, and refused to obey the loud
calls of the audience. Here, he said, was the paradise of his home,
the long-sought-for opportunity; he felt as though he could
send a million supplications to the throne of Heaven for such
an exalted privilege. Poor Leos, who was somewhere in the crowd,
looking as attentively as if he was searching for a needle in a haystack;
here is stood, wondering to himself why Ambulinia was not there.
"Where can she be? Oh! if she was only here, how I could relish
the scene! Elfonzo is certainly not in town; but what if he is?
I have got the wealth, if I have not the dignity, and I am sure that
the squire and his lady have always been particular friends of mine,
and I think with this assurance I shall be able to get upon the blind
side of the rest of the family and make the heaven-born Ambulinia
the mistress of all I possess." Then, again, he would drop his head,
as if attempting to solve the most difficult problem in Euclid.
While he was thus conjecturing in his own mind, a very interesting
part of the exhibition was going on, which called the attention
of all present. The curtains of the stage waved continually
by the repelled forces that were given to them, which caused
Leos to behold Ambulinia leaning upon the chair of Elfonzo.
Her lofty beauty, seen by the glimmering of the chandelier,
filled his heart with rapture, he knew not how to contain himself;
to go where they were would expose him to ridicule; to continue
where he was, with such an object before him, without being allowed
an explanation in that trying hour, would be to the great injury
of his mental as well as of his physical powers; and, in the name
of high heaven, what must he do? Finally, he resolved to contain
himself as well as he conveniently could, until the scene was over,
and then he would plant himself at the door, to arrest Ambulinia from
the hands of the insolent Elfonzo, and thus make for himself a more
prosperous field of immortality than ever was decreed by Omnipotence,
or ever pencil drew or artist imagined. Accordingly he made
himself sentinel, immediately after the performance of the evening--
retained his position apparently in defiance of all the world; he waited,
he gazed at every lady, his whole frame trembled; here he stood,
until everything like human shape had disappeared from the institution,
and he had done nothing; he had failed to accomplish that which he
so eagerly sought for. Poor, unfortunate creature! he had not
the eyes of an Argus, or he might have seen his Juno and Elfonzo,
assisted by his friend Sigma, make their escape from the window,
and, with the rapidity of a race-horse, hurry through the blast of
the storm to the residence of her father, without being recognized.
He did not tarry long, but assured Ambulinia the endless chain
of their existence was more closely connected than ever, since he
had seen the virtuous, innocent, imploring, and the constant
Amelia murdered by the jealous-hearted Farcillo, the accursed of
the land.

The following is the tragical scene, which is only introduced
to show the subject-matter that enabled Elfonzo to come to such
a determinate resolution that nothing of the kind should ever
dispossess him of his true character, should he be so fortunate
as to succeed in his present undertaking.

Amelia was the wife of Farcillo, and a virtuous woman; Gracia,
a young lady, was her particular friend and confidant. Farcillo grew
jealous of Amelia, murders her, finds out that he was deceived,
AND STABS HIMSELF. Amelia appears alone, talking to herself.

A. Hail, ye solitary ruins of antiquity, ye sacred tombs and
silent walks! it is your aid I invoke; it is to you, my soul,
wrapt in deep mediating, pours forth its prayer. Here I wander upon
the stage of mortality, since the world hath turned against me.
Those whom I believed to be my friends, alas! are now my enemies,
planting thorns in all my paths, poisoning all my pleasures,
and turning the past to pain. What a lingering catalogue of sighs
and tears lies just before me, crowding my aching bosom with
the fleeting dream of humanity, which must shortly terminate.
And to what purpose will all this bustle of life, these agitations
and emotions of the heart have conduced, if it leave behind it
nothing of utility, if it leave no traces of improvement? Can it
be that I am deceived in my conclusions? No, I see that I have
nothing to hope for, but everything for fear, which tends to drive
me from the walks of time.


Oh! in this dead night, if loud winds arise,

To lash the surge and bluster in the skies,

May the west its furious rage display,

Toss me with storms in the watery way.


(Enter Gracia.)


G. Oh, Amelia, is it you, the object of grief, the daughter of opulence,
of wisdom and philosophy, that thus complaineth? It cannot be you
are the child of misfortune, speaking of the monuments of former ages,
which were allotted not for the reflection of the distressed,
but for the fearless and bold.

A. Not the child of poverty, Gracia, or the heir of glory and peace,
but of fate. Remember, I have wealth more than wit can number; I have
had power more than kings could emcompass; yet the world seems a desert;
all nature appears an afflictive spectacle of warring passions.
This blind fatality, that capriciously sports with the rules
and lives of mortals, tells me that the mountains will never again
send forth the water of their springs to my thirst. Oh, that I
might be freed and set at liberty from wretchedness! But I fear,
I fear this will never be.

G. Why, Amelia, this untimely grief? What has caused the sorrows
that bespeak better and happier days, to those lavish out such
heaps of misery? You are aware that your instructive lessons
embellish the mind with holy truths, by wedding its attention
to none but great and noble affections.

A. This, of course, is some consolation. I will ever love my own
species with feelings of a fond recollection, and while I am
studying to advance the universal philanthropy, and the spotless
name of my own sex, I will try to build my own upon the pleasing
belief that I have accelerated the advancement of one who whispers
of departed confidence.


And I, like some poor peasant fated to reside

Remote from friends, in a forest wide.

Oh, see what woman's woes and human wants require,

Since that great day hath spread the seed of sinful fire.


G. Look up, thou poor disconsolate; you speak of quitting
earthly enjoyments. Unfold thy bosom to a friend, who would be
willing to sacrifice every enjoyment for the restoration of the
dignity and gentleness of mind which used to grace your walks,
and which is so natural to yourself; not only that, but your
paths were strewed with flowers of every hue and of every order.


With verdant green the mountains glow,

For thee, for thee, the lilies grow;

Far stretched beneath the tented hills,

A fairer flower the valley fills.


A. Oh, would to Heaven I could give you a short narrative of my
former prospects for happiness, since you have acknowledged to be
an unchangeable confidant--the richest of all other blessings.
Oh, ye names forever glorious, ye celebrated scenes, ye renowned
spot of my hymeneal moments; how replete is your chart with
sublime reflections! How many profound vows, decorated with
immaculate deeds, are written upon the surface of that precious
spot of earth where I yielded up my life of celibacy, bade youth
with all its beauties a final adieu, took a last farewell of the
laurels that had accompanied me up the hill of my juvenile career.
It was then I began to descend toward the valley of disappointment
and sorrow; it was then I cast my little bark upon a mysterious ocean
of wedlock, with him who then smiled and caressed me, but, alas! now
frowns with bitterness, and has grown jealous and cold toward me,
because the ring he gave me is misplaced or lost. Oh, bear me,
ye flowers of memory, softly through the eventful history of
past times; and ye places that have witnessed the progression of man
in the circle of so many societies, and, of, aid my recollection,
while I endeavor to trace the vicissitudes of a life devoted
in endeavoring to comfort him that I claim as the object of my wishes.


Ah! ye mysterious men, of all the world, how few

Act just to Heaven and to your promise true!

But He who guides the stars with a watchful eye,

The deeds of men lay open without disguise;

Oh, this alone will avenge the wrongs I bear,

For all the oppressed are His peculiar care.


(F. makes a slight noise.)


A. Who is there--Farcillo?

G. Then I must gone. Heaven protect you. Oh, Amelia, farewell,
be of good cheer.


May you stand like Olympus' towers,

Against earth and all jealous powers!

May you, with loud shouts ascend on high

Swift as an eagle in the upper sky.


A. Why so cold and distant tonight, Farcillo? Come, let us each
other greet, and forget all the past, and give security for the future.

F. Security! talk to me about giving security for the future--
what an insulting requisition! Have you said your prayers tonight,
Madam Amelia?

A. Farcillo, we sometimes forget our duty, particularly when we
expect to be caressed by others.

F. If you bethink yourself of any crime, or of any fault, that is
yet concealed from the courts of Heaven and the thrones of grace,
I bid you ask and solicit forgiveness for it now.

A. Oh, be kind, Farcillo, don't treat me so. What do you mean
by all this?

F. Be kind, you say; you, madam, have forgot that kindness you owe
to me, and bestowed it upon another; you shall suffer for your
conduct when you make your peace with your God. I would not slay thy
unprotected spirit. I call to Heaven to be my guard and my watch--
I would not kill thy soul, in which all once seemed just, right,
and perfect; but I must be brief, woman.

A. What, talk you of killing? Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo, what is
the matter?

F. Aye, I do, without doubt; mark what I say, Amelia.

A. Then, O God, O Heaven, and Angels, be propitious, and have mercy
upon me.

F. Amen to that, madam, with all my heart, and with all my soul.

A. Farcillo, listen to me one moment; I hope you will not kill me.

F. Kill you, aye, that I will; attest it, ye fair host of light,
record it, ye dark imps of hell!

A. Oh, I fear you--you are fatal when darkness covers your brow;
yet I know not why I should fear, since I never wronged you in all
my life. I stand, sir, guiltless before you.

F. You pretend to say you are guiltless! Think of thy sins,
Amelia; think, oh, think, hidden woman.

A. Wherein have I not been true to you? That death is unkind,
cruel, and unnatural, that kills for living.

F. Peace, and be still while I unfold to thee.

A. I will, Farcillo, and while I am thus silent, tell me the cause
of such cruel coldness in an hour like this.

F. That RING, oh, that ring I so loved, and gave thee as the ring
of my heart; the allegiance you took to be faithful, when it
was presented; the kisses and smiles with which you honored it.
You became tired of the donor, despised it as a plague, and finally
gave it to Malos, the hidden, the vile traitor.

A. No, upon my word and honor, I never did; I appeal to the Most
High to bear me out in this matter. Send for Malos, and ask him.

F. Send for Malos, aye! Malos you wish to see; I thought so.
I knew you could not keep his name concealed. Amelia, sweet Amelia,
take heed, take heed of perjury; you are on the stage of death,
to suffer for YOUR SINS.

A. What, not to die I hope, my Farcillo, my ever beloved.

F. Yes, madam, to die a traitor's death. Shortly your spirit shall
take its exit; therefore confess freely thy sins, for to deny tends
only to make me groan under the bitter cup thou hast made for me.
Thou art to die with the name of traitor on thy brow!

A. Then, O Lord, have mercy upon me; give me courage, give me grace
and fortitude to stand this hour of trial.

F. Amen, I say, with all my heart.

A. And, oh, Farcillo, will you have mercy, too? I never
intentionally offended you in all my life, never LOVED Malos,
never gave him cause to think so, as the high court of Justice
will acquit me before its tribunal.

F. Oh, false, perjured woman, thou didst chill my blood, and makest
me a demon like thyself. I saw the ring.

A. He found it, then, or got it clandestinely; send for him,
and let him confess the truth; let his confession be sifted.

F. And you still wish to see him! I tell you, madam, he hath
already confessed, and thou knowest the darkness of thy heart.

A. What, my deceived Farcillo, that I gave him the ring, in which
all my affections were concentrated? Oh, surely not.

F. Aye, he did. Ask thy conscience, and it will speak with a voice
of thunder to thy soul.

A. He will not say so, he dare not, he cannot.

F. No, he will not say so now, because his mouth, I trust, is hushed
in death, and his body stretched to the four winds of heaven,
to be torn to pieces by carnivorous birds.

A. What, he is dead, and gone to the world of spirits with that
declaration in his mouth? Oh, unhappy man! Oh, insupportable hour!

F. Yes, and had all his sighs and looks and tears been lives, my great
revenge could have slain them all, without the least condemnation.

A. Alas! he is ushered into eternity without testing the matter
for which I am abused and sentenced and condemned to die.

F. Cursed, infernal woman! Weepest thou for him to my face? He that
hath robbed me of my peace, my energy, the whole love of my life?
Could I call the fabled Hydra, I would have him live and perish,
survive and die, until the sun itself would grow dim with age.
I would make him have the thirst of a Tantalus, and roll the
wheel of an Ixion, until the stars of heaven should quit their
brilliant stations.

A. Oh, invincible God, save me! Oh, unsupportable moment! Oh, heavy
hour! Banish me,, Farcillo--send me where no eye can ever see me, where
no sound shall ever great my ear; but, oh, slay me not, Farcillo; vent thy
rage and thy spite upon this emaciated frame of mine, only spare my life.

F. Your petitions avail nothing, cruel Amelia.

A. Oh, Farcillo, perpetrate the dark deed tomorrow; let me live
till then, for my past kindness to you, and it may be some kind
angel will show to you that I am not only the object of innocence,
but one who never loved another but your noble self.

F. Amelia, the decree has gone forth, it is to be done, and that quickly;
thou art to die, madam.

A. But half an hour allow me, to see my father and my only child,
to tell her the treachery and vanity of this world.

F. There is no alternative, there is no pause: my daughter shall
not see its deceptive mother die; your father shall not know that his
daughter fell disgraced, despised by all but her enchanting Malos.

A. Oh, Farcillo, put up thy threatening dagger into its scabbard;
let it rest and be still, just while I say one prayer for thee and
for my child.

F. It is too late, thy doom is fixed, thou hast not confessed
to Heaven or to me, my child's protector--thou art to die.
Ye powers of earth and heaven, protect and defend me in this alone.
(STABS HER WHILE IMPLORING FOR MERCY.)

A. Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo, a guiltless death I die.

F. Die! die! die!


(Gracia enters running, falls on her knees weeping, and kisses Amelia.)


G. Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo! oh, Farcillo!

F. I am here, the genius of the age, and the avenger of my wrongs.

G. Oh, lady, speak once more; sweet Amelia, on, speak again.
Gone, gone--yes, forever gone! Farcillo, oh, cold-hearted Farcillo,
some evil fiend hath urged you to do this, Farcillo.

F. Say not so again, or you shall receive the same fate. I did
the glorious deed, madam--beware, then, how you talk.

G. I fear not your implements of war; I will let you know you have
not the power to do me harm. If you have a heart of triple brass,
it shall be reached and melted, and thy blood shall chill thy veins
and grow stiff in thy arteries. Here is the ring of the virtuous
and innocent murdered Amelia; I obtained it from Malos, who yet lives,
in hopes that he will survive the wound given him, and says he got
it clandestinely--declares Amelia to be the princess of truth and virtue,
invulnerable to anything like forgetting her first devotion to thee.
The world has heard of your conduct and your jealousy, and with
one universal voice declares her to be the best of all in piety;
that she is the star of this great universe, and a more virtuous
woman never lived since the wheels of time began. Oh, had you waited
till tomorrow, or until I had returned, some kind window would have
been opened to her relief. But, alas! she is gone--yes, forever gone,
to try the realities of an unknown world!


(Farcillo leaning over the body of Amelia.)


F. Malos not dead, and here is my ring! Oh, Amelia! falsely murdered!
Oh, bloody deed! Oh, wretch that I am! Oh, angels forgive me! Oh, God,
withhold thy vengeance! Oh, Amelia! if Heaven would make a thousand
worlds like this, set with diamonds, and all of one perfect chrysolite,
I would not have done this for them all, I would not have frowned
and cursed as I did. Oh, she was heavenly true, nursed in the very
lap of bright angels! Cursed slave that I am! Jealousy, oh! thou
infernal demon! Lost, lost to every sense of honor! Oh! Amelia--
heaven-born Amelia--dead, dead! Oh! oh! oh!--then let me die with
thee. Farewell! farewell! ye world that deceived me! (STABS HIMSELF.)


Soon after the excitement of this tragical scene was over,
and the enlisted feeling for Amelia had grown more buoyant with
Elfonzo and Ambulinia, he determined to visit his retired home,
and make the necessary improvements to enjoy a better day;
consequently he conveyed the following lines to Ambulinia:


Go tell the world that hope is glowing,

Go bid the rocks their silence break,

Go tell the stars that love is glowing,

Then bid the hero his lover take.


In the region where scarcely the foot of man hath ever trod,
where the woodman hath not found his way, lies a blooming grove,
seen only by the sun when he mounts his lofty throne, visited only
by the light of the stars, to whom are entrusted the guardianship
of earth, before the sun sinks to rest in his rosy bed. High cliffs
of rocks surround the romantic place, and in the small cavity of
the rocky wall grows the daffodil clear and pure; and as the wind
blows along the enchanting little mountain which surrounds the
lonely spot, it nourishes the flowers with the dew-drops of heaven.
Here is the seat of Elfonzo; darkness claims but little victory over
this dominion, and in vain does she spread out her gloomy wings.
Here the waters flow perpetually, and the trees lash their tops
together to bid the welcome visitor a happy muse. Elfonzo, during his
short stay in the country, had fully persuaded himself that it was
his duty to bring this solemn matter to an issue. A duty that he
individually owed, as a gentleman, to the parents of Ambulinia,
a duty in itself involving not only his own happiness and his own
standing in society, but one that called aloud the act of the parties
to make it perfect and complete. How he should communicate his
intentions to get a favorable reply, he was at a loss to know;
he knew not whether to address Esq. Valeer in prose or in poetry,
in a jocular or an ar












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