THE CURIOUS BOOK 
 
 
Complete 
 
 
 
[The foregoing review of the great work of G. Ragsdale McClintock is 
liberally illuminated with sample extracts, but these cannot appease 
the appetite.  Only the complete book, unabridged, can do that.  
Therefore it is here printed.--M.T.] 
 
 
 
THE ENEMY CONQUERED; OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 
 
 
 
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 argumentative manner, or whether he should use 
moral suasion, legal injunction, or seizure and take by reprisal; 
if it was to do the latter, he would have no difficulty in deciding 
in his own mind, but his gentlemanly honor was at stake; so he 
concluded to address the following letter to the father and mother 
of Ambulinia, as his address in person he knew would only aggravate 
the old gentleman, and perhaps his lady. 
 
 
 
Cumming, Ga., January 22, 1844 
 
Mr. and Mrs. Valeer-- 
 
 
Again I resume the pleasing task of addressing you, and once more beg 
an immediate answer to my many salutations.  From every circumstance 
that has taken place, I feel in duty bound to comply with my obligations; 
to forfeit my word would be more than I dare do; to break my pledge, 
and my vows that have been witnessed, sealed, and delivered in the 
presence of an unseen Deity, would be disgraceful on my part, as well 
as ruinous to Ambulinia.  I wish no longer to be kept in suspense 
about this matter.  I wish to act gentlemanly in every particular.  
It is true, the promises I have made are unknown to any but Ambulinia, 
and I think it unnecessary to here enumerate them, as they who 
promise the most generally perform the least.  Can you for a moment 
doubt my sincerity or my character?  My only wish is, sir, that you 
may calmly and dispassionately look at the situation of the case, 
and if your better judgment should dictate otherwise, my obligations 
may induce me to pluck the flower that you so diametrically opposed.  
We have sword by the saints--by the gods of battle, and by that 
faith whereby just men are made perfect--to be united.  I hope, 
my dear sir, you will find it convenient as well as agreeable 
to give me a favorable answer, with the signature of Mrs. Valeer, 
as well as yourself. 
 
 
With very great esteem, 
 
your humble servant, 
 
J. I. Elfonzo. 
 
 
 
The moon and stars had grown pale when Ambulinia had retired 
to rest.  A crowd of unpleasant thoughts passed through her bosom.  
Solitude dwelt in her chamber--no sound from the neighboring 
world penetrated its stillness; it appeared a temple of silence, 
of repose, and of mystery.  At that moment she heard a still voice 
calling her father.  In an instant, like the flash of lightning, 
a thought ran through her mind that it must be the bearer 
of Elfonzo's communication.  "It is not a dream!" she said, 
"no, I cannot read dreams.  Oh!  I would to Heaven I was near 
that glowing eloquence--that poetical language--it charms the 
mind in an inexpressible manner, and warms the coldest heart."  
While consoling herself with this strain, her father rushed into 
her room almost frantic with rage, exclaiming:  "Oh, Ambulinia!  
Ambulinia!! undutiful, ungrateful daughter!  What does this mean?  
Why does this letter bear such heart-rending intelligence?  
Will you quit a father's house with this debased wretch, without a 
place to lay his distracted head; going up and down the country, 
with every novel object that many chance to wander through this region.  
He is a pretty man to make love known to his superiors, and you, 
Ambulinia, have done but little credit to yourself by honoring 
his visits.  Oh, wretchedness! can it be that my hopes of happiness 
are forever blasted!  Will you not listen to a father's entreaties, 
and pay some regard to a mother's tears.  I know, and I do pray that God 
will give me fortitude to bear with this sea of troubles, and rescue 
my daughter, my Ambulinia, as a brand from the eternal burning."  
"Forgive me, father, oh! forgive thy child," replied Ambulinia.  
"My heart is ready to break, when I see you in this grieved state 
of agitation.  Oh! think not so meanly of me, as that I mourn 
for my own danger.  Father, I am only woman.  Mother, I am only 
the templement of thy youthful years, but will suffer courageously 
whatever punishment you think proper to inflict upon me, if you will 
but allow me to comply with my most sacred promises--if you will but 
give me my personal right and my personal liberty.  Oh, father! if 
your generosity will but give me these, I ask nothing more.  
When Elfonzo offered me his heart, I gave him my hand, never to 
forsake him, and now may the mighty God banish me before I leave him 
in adversity.  What a heart must I have to rejoice in prosperity 
with him whose offers I have accepted, and then, when poverty comes, 
haggard as it may be, for me to trifle with the oracles of Heaven, 
and change with every fluctuation that may interrupt our happiness-- 
like the politician who runs the political gantlet for office one day, 
and the next day, because the horizon is darkened a little, he is 
seen running for his life, for fear he might perish in its ruins.  
Where is the philosophy, where is the consistency, where is the charity, 
in conduct like this?  Be happy then, my beloved father, and forget me; 
let the sorrow of parting break down the wall of separation and make 
us equal in our feeling; let me now say how ardently I love you; 
let me kiss that age-worn cheek, and should my tears bedew thy face, 
I will wipe them away.  Oh, I never can forget you; no, never, never!" 
 
"Weep not," said the father, "Ambulinia.  I will forbid Elfonzo 
my house, and desire that you may keep retired a few days.  I will 
let him know that my friendship for my family is not linked together 
by cankered chains; and if he ever enters upon my premises again, 
I will send him to his long home."  "Oh, father! let me entreat you 
to be calm upon this occasion, and though Elfonzo may be the sport 
of the clouds and winds, yet I feel assured that no fate will send 
him to the silent tomb until the God of the Universe calls him 
hence with a triumphant voice." 
 
Here the father turned away, exclaiming:  "I will answer his letter 
in a very few words, and you, madam, will have the goodness to stay 
at home with your mother; and remember, I am determined to protect 
you from the consuming fire that looks so fair to your view." 
 
 
 
Cumming, January 22, 1844. 
 
 
Sir--In regard to your request, I am as I ever have been, utterly opposed 
to your marrying into my family; and if you have any regard for yourself, 
or any gentlemanly feeling, I hope you will mention it to me no more; 
but seek some other one who is not so far superior to you in standing. 
 
 
W. W. Valeer. 
 
 
 
When Elfonzo read the above letter, he became so much depressed 
in spirits that many of his friends thought it advisable to use 
other means to bring about the happy union.  "Strange," said he, 
"that the contents of this diminutive letter should cause me to have 
such depressed feelings; but there is a nobler theme than this.  I know 
not why my MILITARY TITLE is not as great as that of SQUIRE VALEER.  
For my life I cannot see that my ancestors are inferior to those 
who are so bitterly opposed to my marriage with Ambulinia.  I know 
I have seen huge mountains before me, yet, when I think that I know 
gentlemen will insult me upon this delicate matter, should I become 
angry at fools and babblers, who pride themselves in their impudence 
and ignorance?  No. My equals!  I know not where to find them.  
My inferiors!  I think it beneath me; and my superiors!  I think 
it presumption; therefore, if this youthful heart is protected 
by any of the divine rights, I never will betray my trust." 
 
He was aware that Ambulinia had a confidence that was, indeed, 
as firm and as resolute as she was beautiful and interesting.  
He hastened to the cottage of Louisa, who received him in her usual 
mode of pleasantness, and informed him that Ambulinia had just that 
moment left.  "Is it possible?" said Elfonzo.  "Oh, murdered hours!  
Why did she not remain and be the guardian of my secrets?  
But hasten and tell me how she has stood this trying scene, 
and what are her future determinations."  "You know," said Louisa, 
"Major Elfonzo, that you have Ambulinia's first love, which is 
of no small consequence.  She came here about twilight, and shed 
many precious tears in consequence of her own fate with yours.  
We walked silently in yon little valley you see, where we spent 
a momentary repose.  She seemed to be quite as determined as ever, 
and before we left that beautiful spot she offered up a prayer 
to Heaven for thee."  "I will see her then," replied Elfonzo, 
"though legions of enemies may oppose.  She is mine by foreordination-- 
she is mine by prophesy--she is mine by her own free will, and I 
will rescue her from the hands of her oppressors.  Will you not, 
Miss Louisa, assist me in my capture?" 
 
"I will certainly, by the aid of Divine Providence," answered Louisa, 
"endeavor to break those slavish chains that bind the richest of prizes; 
though allow me, Major, to entreat you to use no harsh means on this 
important occasion; take a decided stand, and write freely to Ambulinia 
upon this subject, and I will see that no intervening cause hinders 
its passage to her.  God alone will save a mourning people.  Now is 
the day and now is the hour to obey a command of such valuable worth."  
The Major felt himself grow stronger after this short interview 
with Louisa.  He felt as if he could whip his weight in wildcats-- 
he knew he was master of his own feelings, and could now write 
a letter that would bring this litigation to AN ISSUE. 
 
 
 
Cumming, January 24, 1844. 
 
Dear Ambulinia-- 
 
 
We have now reached the most trying moment of our lives; we are 
pledged not to forsake our trust; we have waited for a favorable hour 
to come, thinking your friends would settle the matter agreeably 
among themselves, and finally be reconciled to our marriage; 
but as I have waited in vain, and looked in vain, I have determined 
in my own mind to make a proposition to you, though you may think 
it not in accord with your station, or compatible with your rank; 
yet, "sub loc signo vinces."  You know I cannot resume my visits, 
in consequence of the utter hostility that your father has to me; 
therefore the consummation of our union will have to be sought 
for in a more sublime sphere, at the residence of a respectable 
friend of this village.  You cannot have an scruples upon this 
mode of proceeding, if you will but remember it emanates from one 
who loves you better than his own life--who is more than anxious 
to bid you welcome to a new and happy home.  Your warmest associates 
say come; the talented, the learned, the wise, and the experienced 
say come;--all these with their friends say, come.  Viewing these, 
with many other inducements, I flatter myself that you will come 
to the embraces of your Elfonzo; for now is the time of your 
acceptance of the day of your liberation.  You cannot be ignorant, 
Ambulinia, that thou art the desire of my heart; its thoughts 
are too noble, and too pure, to conceal themselves from you.  
I shall wait for your answer to this impatiently, expecting that you 
will set the time to make your departure, and to be in readiness 
at a moment's warning to share the joys of a more preferable life.  
This will be handed to you by Louisa, who will take a pleasure in 
communicating anything to you that may relieve your dejected spirits, 
and will assure you that I now stand ready, willing, and waiting 
to make good my vows. 
 
I am, dear Ambulinia, your 
 
truly, and forever, 
 
J. I. Elfonzo. 
 
 
 
Louisa made it convenient to visit Mr. Valeer's, though they 
did not suspect her in the least the bearer of love epistles; 
consequently, she was invited in the room to console Ambulinia, 
where they were left alone.  Ambulinia was seated by a small table-- 
her head resting on her hand--her brilliant eyes were bathed in tears.  
Louisa handed her the letter of Elfonzo, when another spirit animated 
her features--the spirit of renewed confidence that never fails 
to strengthen the female character in an hour of grief and sorrow 
like this, and as she pronounced the last accent of his name, 
she exclaimed, "And does he love me yet!  I never will forget 
your generosity, Louisa.  Oh, unhappy and yet blessed Louisa! may you 
never feel what I have felt--may you never know the pangs of love.  
Had I never loved, I never would have been unhappy; but I turn to Him 
who can save, and if His wisdom does not will my expected union, 
I know He will give me strength to bear my lot.  Amuse yourself 
with this little book, and take it as an apology for my silence," 
said Ambulinia, "while I attempt to answer this volume of consolation."  
"Thank you," said Louisa, "you are excusable upon this occasion; 
but I pray you, Ambulinia, to be expert upon this momentous subject, 
that there may be nothing mistrustful upon my part."  "I will," 
said Ambulinia, and immediately resumed her seat and addressed the 
following to Elfonzo: 
 
 
 
Cumming, Ga., January 28, 1844. 
 
Devoted Elfonzo-- 
 
 
I hail your letter as a welcome messenger of faith, and can now 
say truly and firmly that my feelings correspond with yours.  
Nothing shall be wanting on my part to make my obedience your fidelity.  
Courage and perseverance will accomplish success.  Receive this 
as my oath, that while I grasp your hand in my own imagination, 
we stand united before a higher tribunal than any on earth.  
All the powers of my life, soul, and body, I devote to thee.  
Whatever dangers may threaten me, I fear not to encounter them.  
Perhaps I have determined upon my own destruction, by leaving 
the house of the best of parents; be it so; I flee to you; I share 
your destiny, faithful to the end.  The day that I have concluded 
upon for this task is SABBATH next, when the family with the citizens 
are generally at church.  For Heaven's sake let not that day 
pass unimproved:  trust not till tomorrow, it is the cheat of life-- 
the future that never comes--the grave of many noble births-- 
the cavern of ruined enterprise:  which like the lightning's 
flash is born, and dies, and perishes, ere the voice of him 
who sees can cry, BEHOLD!  BEHOLD!! You may trust to what I say, 
no power shall tempt me to betray confidence.  Suffer me to add one 
word more. 
 
 
I will soothe thee, in all thy grief, 
 
Beside the gloomy river; 
 
And though thy love may yet be brief; 
 
Mine is fixed forever. 
 
 
Receive the deepest emotions of my heart for thy constant love, 
and may the power of inspiration by thy guide, thy portion, and thy all.  
In great haste, 
 
Yours faithfully, 
 
Ambulinia. 
 
 
 
"I now take my leave of you, sweet girl," said Louisa, "sincerely 
wishing you success on Sabbath next."  When Ambulinia's letter was 
handed to Elfonzo, he perused it without doubting its contents.  
Louisa charged him to make but few confidants; but like most young 
men who happened to win the heart of a beautiful girl, he was so 
elated with the idea that he felt as a commanding general on parade, 
who had confidence in all, consequently gave orders to all.  
The appointed Sabbath, with a delicious breeze and cloudless sky, 
made its appearance.  The people gathered in crowds to the church-- 
the streets were filled with neighboring citizens, all marching 
to the house of worship.  It is entirely useless for me to attempt 
to describe the feelings of Elfonzo and Ambulinia, who were silently 
watching the movements of the multitude, apparently counting them as then 
entered the house of God, looking for the last one to darken the door.  
The impatience and anxiety with which they waited, and the bliss 
they anticipated on the eventful day, is altogether indescribable.  
Those that have been so fortunate as to embark in such a noble 
enterprise know all its realities; and those who have not had this 
inestimable privilege will have to taste its sweets before they can 
tell to others its joys, its comforts, and its Heaven-born worth.  
Immediately after Ambulinia had assisted the family off to church, 
she took advantage of that opportunity to make good her promises.  
She left a home of enjoyment to be wedded to one whose love had 
been justifiable.  A few short steps brought her to the presence 
of Louisa, who urged her to make good use of her time, and not 
to delay a moment, but to go with her to her brother's house, 
where Elfonzo would forever make her happy.  With lively speed, 
and yet a graceful air, she entered the door and found herself 
protected by the champion of her confidence.  The necessary 
arrangements were fast making to have the two lovers united-- 
everything was in readiness except the parson; and as they are 
generally very sanctimonious on such occasions, the news got 
to the parents of Ambulinia before the everlasting knot was tied, 
and they both came running, with uplifted hands and injured feelings, 
to arrest their daughter from an unguarded and hasty resolution.  
Elfonzo desired to maintain his ground, but Ambulinia thought 
it best for him to leave, to prepare for a greater contest.  
He accordingly obeyed, as it would have been a vain endeavor for him 
to have battled against a man who was armed with deadly weapons; 
and besides, he could not resist the request of such a pure heart.  
Ambulinia concealed herself in the upper story of the house, fearing 
the rebuke of her father; the door was locked, and no chastisement 
was now expected.  Esquire Valeer, whose pride was already touched, 
resolved to preserve the dignity of his family.  He entered the house 
almost exhausted, looking wildly for Ambulinia.  "Amazed and astonished 
indeed I am," said he, "at a people who call themselves civilized, 
to allow such behavior as this.  Ambulinia, Ambulinia!" he cried, 
"come to the calls of your first, your best, and your only friend.  
I appeal to you, sir," turning to the gentleman of the house, 
"to know where Ambulinia has gone, or where is she?"  "Do you mean 
to insult me, sir, in my own house?" inquired the gentleman.  
"I will burst," said Mr. V., "asunder every door in your dwelling, 
in search of my daughter, if you do not speak quickly, and tell me 
where she is.  I care nothing about that outcast rubbish of creation, 
that mean, low-lived Elfonzo, if I can but obtain Ambulinia.  
Are you not going to open this door?" said he.  "By the Eternal 
that made Heaven and earth!  I will go about the work instantly, 
if this is not done!"  The confused citizens gathered from all 
parts of the village, to know the cause of this commotion.  
Some rushed into the house; the door that was locked flew open, 
and there stood Ambulinia, weeping.  "Father, be still," said she, 
"and I will follow thee home."  But the agitated man seized her, 
and bore her off through the gazing multitude.  "Father!" she exclaimed, 
"I humbly beg your pardon--I will be dutiful--I will obey thy commands.  
Let the sixteen years I have lived in obedience to thee by my 
future security."  "I don't like to be always giving credit, 
when the old score is not paid up, madam," said the father.  The mother 
followed almost in a state of derangement, crying and imploring 
her to think beforehand, and ask advice from experienced persons, 
and they would tell her it was a rash undertaking.  "Oh!" said she, 
"Ambulinia, my daughter, did you know what I have suffered-- 
did you know how many nights I have whiled away in agony, 
in pain, and in fear, you would pity the sorrows of a heartbroken 
mother." 
 
"Well, mother," replied Ambulinia, "I know I have been disobedient; 
I am aware that what I have done might have been done much better; 
but oh! what shall I do with my honor? it is so dear to me; 
I am pledged to Elfonzo.  His high moral worth is certainly worth 
some attention; moreover, my vows, I have no doubt, are recorded 
in the book of life, and must I give these all up? must my fair 
hopes be forever blasted?  Forbid it, father; oh! forbid it, mother; 
forbid it, Heaven."  "I have seen so many beautiful skies overclouded," 
replied the mother, "so many blossoms nipped by the frost, 
that I am afraid to trust you to the care of those fair days, 
which may be interrupted by thundering and tempestuous nights.  
You no doubt think as I did--life's devious ways were strewn with 
sweet-scented flowers, but ah! how long they have lingered around me 
and took their flight in the vivid hope that laughs at the drooping 
victims it has murdered."  Elfonzo was moved at this sight.  
The people followed on to see what was going to become of Ambulinia, 
while he, with downcast looks, kept at a distance, until he saw 
them enter the abode of the father, thrusting her, that was the 
sigh of his soul, out of his presence into a solitary apartment, 
when she exclaimed, "Elfonzo!  Elfonzo! oh, Elfonzo! where art thou, 
with all thy heroes? haste, oh! haste, come thou to my relief.  
Ride on the wings of the wind!  Turn thy force loose like a tempest, 
and roll on thy army like a whirlwind, over this mountain of trouble 
and confusion.  Oh, friends! if any pity me, let your last efforts 
throng upon the green hills, and come to the relief of Ambulinia, 
who is guilty of nothing but innocent love."  Elfonzo called out with 
a loud voice, "My God, can I stand this! arise up, I beseech you, 
and put an end to this tyranny.  Come, my brave boys," said he, 
"are you ready to go forth to your duty?"  They stood around him.  
"Who," said he, "will call us to arms?  Where are my thunderbolts of war?  
Speak ye, the first who will meet the foe!  Who will go forward with me 
in this ocean of grievous temptation?  If there is one who desires 
to go, let him come and shake hands upon the altar of devotion, 
and swear that he will be a hero; yes, a Hector in a cause like this, 
which calls aloud for a speedy remedy."  "Mine be the deed," 
said a young lawyer, "and mine alone; Venus alone shall quit her 
station before I will forsake one jot or tittle of my promise to you; 
what is death to me? what is all this warlike army, if it is not 
to win a victory?  I love the sleep of the lover and the mighty; 
nor would I give it over till the blood of my enemies should wreak 
with that of my own.  But God forbid that our fame should soar 
on the blood of the slumberer."  Mr. Valeer stands at his door 
with the frown of a demon upon his brow, with his dangerous 
weapon ready to strike the first man who should enter his door.  
"Who will arise and go forward through blood and carnage to the rescue 
of my Ambulinia?" said Elfonzo.  "All," exclaimed the multitude; 
and onward they went, with their implements of battle.  Others, of a 
more timid nature, stood among the distant hills to see the result of 
the contest. 
 
Elfonzo took the lead of his band.  Night arose in clouds; 
darkness concealed the heavens; but the blazing hopes that stimulated 
them gleamed in every bosom.  All approached the anxious spot; 
they rushed to the front of the house and, with one exclamation, 
demanded Ambulinia.  "Away, begone, and disturb my peace no more," 
said Mr. Valeer.  "You are a set of base, insolent, and infernal rascals.  
Go, the northern star points your path through the dim twilight of 
the night; go, and vent your spite upon the lonely hills; pour forth 
your love, you poor, weak-minded wretch, upon your idleness and upon 
your guitar, and your fiddle; they are fit subjects for your admiration, 
for let me assure you, though this sword and iron lever are cankered, 
yet they frown in sleep, and let one of you dare to enter my 
house this night and you shall have the contents and the weight 
of these instruments."  "Never yet did base dishonor blur my name," 
said Elfonzo; "mine is a cause of renown; here are my warriors; 
fear and tremble, for this night, though hell itself should oppose, 
I will endeavor to avenge her whom thou hast banished in solitude.  
The voice of Ambulinia shall be heard from that dark dungeon."  
At that moment Ambulinia appeared at the window above, and with a 
tremulous voice said, "Live, Elfonzo! oh! live to raise my stone 
of moss! why should such language enter your heart? why should thy 
voice rend the air with such agitation?  I bid thee live, once more 
remembering these tears of mine are shed alone for thee, in this dark 
and gloomy vault, and should I perish under this load of trouble, 
join the song of thrilling accents with the raven above my grave, 
and lay this tattered frame beside the banks of the Chattahoochee 
or the stream of Sawney's brook; sweet will be the song of death to 
your Ambulinia.  My ghost shall visit you in the smiles of Paradise, 
and tell your high fame to the minds of that region, which is far more 
preferable than this lonely cell.  My heart shall speak for thee till 
the latest hour; I know faint and broken are the sounds of sorrow, 
yet our souls, Elfonzo, shall hear the peaceful songs together.  
One bright name shall be ours on high, if we are not permitted to be 
united here; bear in mind that I still cherish my old sentiments, 
and the poet will mingle the names of Elfonzo and Ambulinia 
in the tide of other days."  "Fly, Elfonzo," said the voices 
of his united band, "to the wounded heart of your beloved.  
All enemies shall fall beneath thy sword.  Fly through the clefts, 
and the dim spark shall sleep in death."  Elfonzo rushes forward 
and strikes his shield against the door, which was barricaded, 
to prevent any intercourse.  His brave sons throng around him.  
The people pour along the streets, both male and female, to prevent or 
witness the melancholy scene. 
 
"To arms, to arms!" cried Elfonzo; "here is a victory to be won, 
a prize to be gained that is more to me that the whole world beside."  
"It cannot be done tonight," said Mr. Valeer.  "I bear the clang 
of death; my strength and armor shall prevail.  My Ambulinia shall 
rest in this hall until the break of another day, and if we fall, 
we fall together.  If we die, we die clinging to our tattered rights, 
and our blood alone shall tell the mournful tale of a murdered 
daughter and a ruined father."  Sure enough, he kept watch all night, 
and was successful in defending his house and family.  The bright 
morning gleamed upon the hills, night vanished away, the Major 
and his associates felt somewhat ashamed that they had not been as 
fortunate as they expected to have been; however, they still leaned 
upon their arms in dispersed groups; some were walking the streets, 
others were talking in the Major's behalf.  Many of the citizen 
suspended business, as the town presented nothing but consternation.  
A novelty that might end in the destruction of some worthy 
and respectable citizens.  Mr. Valeer ventured in the streets, 
though not without being well armed.  Some of his friends congratulated 
him on the decided stand he had taken, and hoped he would settle 
the matter amicably with Elfonzo, without any serious injury.  
"Me," he replied, "what, me, condescend to fellowship with a coward, 
and a low-lived, lazy, undermining villain? no, gentlemen, this cannot be; 
I had rather be borne off, like the bubble upon the dark blue ocean, 
with Ambulinia by my side, than to have him in the ascending 
or descending line of relationship.  Gentlemen," continued he, 
"if Elfonzo is so much of a distinguished character, and is so 
learned in the fine arts, why do you not patronize such men? why 
not introduce him into your families, as a gentleman of taste 
and of unequaled magnanimity? why are you so very anxious that he 
should become a relative of mine?  Oh, gentlemen, I fear you yet 
are tainted with the curiosity of our first parents, who were 
beguiled by the poisonous kiss of an old ugly serpent, and who, 
for one APPLE, DAMNED all mankind.  I wish to divest myself, as far 
as possible, of that untutored custom.  I have long since learned 
that the perfection of wisdom, and the end of true philosophy, 
is to proportion our wants to our possessions, our ambition to 
our capacities; we will then be a happy and a virtuous people."  
Ambulinia was sent off to prepare for a long and tedious journey.  
Her new acquaintances had been instructed by her father how to treat her, 
and in what manner, and to keep the anticipated visit entirely secret.  
Elfonzo was watching the movements of everybody; some friends 
had told him of the plot that was laid to carry off Ambulinia.  
At night, he rallied some two or three of his forces, and went 
silently along to the stately mansion; a faint and glimmering light 
showed through the windows; lightly he steps to the door; there were 
many voices rallying fresh in fancy's eye; he tapped the shutter; 
it was opened instantly, and he beheld once more, seated beside 
several ladies, the hope of all his toils; he rushed toward her, 
she rose from her seat, rejoicing; he made one mighty grasp, 
when Ambulinia exclaimed, "Huzza for Major Elfonzo!  I will defend 
myself and you, too, with this conquering instrument I hold in my hand; 
huzza, I say, I now invoke time's broad wing to shed around us some 
dewdrops of verdant spring." 
 
But the hour had not come for this joyous reunion; her friends 
struggled with Elfonzo for some time, and finally succeeded 
in arresting her from his hands.  He dared not injure them, 
because they were matrons whose courage needed no spur; 
she was snatched from the arms of Elfonzo, with so much eagerness, 
and yet with such expressive signification, that he calmly withdrew 
from this lovely enterprise, with an ardent hope that he should be 
lulled to repose by the zephyrs which whispered peace to his soul.  
Several long days and night passed unmolested, all seemed to have 
grounded their arms of rebellion, and no callidity appeared to be 
going on with any of the parties.  Other arrangements were made 
by Ambulinia; she feigned herself to be entirely the votary of a 
mother's care, and she, by her graceful smiles, that manhood might 
claim his stern dominion in some other region, where such boisterous 
love was not so prevalent.  This gave the parents a confidence 
that yielded some hours of sober joy; they believed that Ambulinia 
would now cease to love Elfonzo, and that her stolen affections 
would now expire with her misguided opinions.  They therefore 
declined the idea of sending her to a distant land.  But oh! they 
dreamed not of the rapture that dazzled the fancy of Ambulinia, 
who would say, when alone, youth should not fly away on his rosy 
pinions, and leave her to grapple in the conflict with unknown admirers. 
 
 
No frowning age shall control 
 
The constant current of my soul, 
 
Nor a tear from pity's eye 
 
Shall check my sympathetic sigh. 
 
 
With this resolution fixed in her mind, one dark and dreary night, 
when the winds whistled and the tempest roared, she received intelligence 
that Elfonzo was then waiting, and every preparation was then ready, 
at the residence of Dr. Tully, and for her to make a quick escape 
while the family was reposing.  Accordingly she gathered her books, 
went the wardrobe supplied with a variety of ornamental dressing, 
and ventured alone in the streets to make her way to Elfonzo, 
who was near at hand, impatiently looking and watching her arrival.  
"What forms," said she, "are those rising before me?  What is 
that dark spot on the clouds?  I do wonder what frightful ghost 
that is, gleaming on the red tempest?  Oh, be merciful and tell me 
what region you are from.  Oh, tell me, ye strong spirits, or ye 
dark and fleeting clouds, that I yet have a friend."  "A friend," 
said a low, whispering voice.  "I am thy unchanging, thy aged, 
and thy disappointed mother.  Why brandish in that hand of thine 
a javelin of pointed steel?  Why suffer that lip I have kissed 
a thousand times to equivocate?  My daughter, let these tears sink 
deep into thy soul, and no longer persist in that which may be your 
destruction and ruin.  Come, my dear child, retract your steps, 
and bear me company to your welcome home."  Without one retorting word, 
or frown from her brow, she yielded to the entreaties of her mother, 
and with all the mildness of her former character she went along 
with the silver lamp of age, to the home of candor and benevolence.  
Her father received her cold and formal politeness--"Where has 
Ambulinia been, this blustering evening, Mrs. Valeer?" inquired he.  
"Oh, she and I have been taking a solitary walk," said the mother; 
"all things, I presume, are now working for the best." 
 
Elfonzo heard this news shortly after it happened.  "What," said he, 
"has heaven and earth turned against me?  I have been disappointed 
times without number.  Shall I despair?--must I give it over?  
Heaven's decrees will not fade; I will write again--I will try again; 
and if it traverses a gory field, I pray forgiveness at the altar 
of justice." 
 
 
 
Desolate Hill, Cumming, Geo., 1844. 
 
Unconquered and Beloved Ambulinia-- 
 
I have only time to say to you, not to despair; thy fame shall 
not perish; my visions are brightening before me.  The whirlwind's 
rage is past, and we now shall subdue our enemies without doubt.  
On Monday morning, when your friends are at breakfast, they will 
not suspect your departure, or even mistrust me being in town, 
as it has been reported advantageously that I have left for the west.  
You walk carelessly toward the academy grove, where you will find 
me with a lightning steed, elegantly equipped to bear you off where 
we shall be joined in wedlock with the first connubial rights.  
Fail not to do this--think not of the tedious relations of our wrongs-- 
be invincible.  You alone occupy all my ambition, and I alone will 
make you my happy spouse, with the same unimpeached veracity.  
I remain, forever, your devoted friend and admirer, J. L. Elfonzo. 
 
 
 
The appointed day ushered in undisturbed by any clouds; nothing disturbed 
Ambulinia's soft beauty.  With serenity and loveliness she obeys 
the request of Elfonzo.  The moment the family seated themselves 
at the table--"Excuse my absence for a short time," said she, 
"while I attend to the placing of those flowers, which should have 
been done a week ago."  And away she ran to the sacred grove, 
surrounded with glittering pearls, that indicated her coming.  
Elfonzo hails her with his silver bow and his golden harp.  They meet-- 
Ambulinia's countenance brightens--Elfonzo leads up his winged steed.  
"Mount," said he, "ye true-hearted, ye fearless soul--the day 
is ours."  She sprang upon the back of the young thunder bolt, 
a brilliant star sparkles upon her head, with one hand she 
grasps the reins, and with the other she holds an olive branch.  
"Lend thy aid, ye strong winds," they exclaimed, "ye moon, ye sun, 
and all ye fair host of heaven, witness the enemy conquered."  
"Hold," said Elfonzo, "thy dashing steed."  "Ride on," said Ambulinia, 
"the voice of thunder is behind us."  And onward they went, 
with such rapidity that they very soon arrived at Rural Retreat, 
where they dismounted, and were united with all the solemnities 
that usually attend such divine operations.  They passed the day 
in thanksgiving and great rejoicing, and on that evening they 
visited their uncle, where many of their friends and acquaintances 
had gathered to congratulate them in the field of untainted bliss.  
The kind old gentleman met them in the yard:  "Well," said he, "I wish 
I may die, Elfonzo, if you and Ambulinia haven't tied a knot with your 
tongue that you can't untie with your teeth.  But come in, come in, 
never mind, all is right--the world still moves on, and no one has 
fallen in this great battle." 
 
Happy now is there lot!  Unmoved by misfortune, they live among the 
fair beauties of the South.  Heaven spreads their peace and fame upon 
the arch of the rainbow, and smiles propitiously at their triumph, 
THROUGH THE TEARS OF THE STORM.