Caxton's Book: A Collection of Essays, Poems, Tales, and Sketches Part 16

The huge old serpent lolled along the waters for a hundred feet or so, and never so much as shook the spray from his hide. He looked like Milton's portrait of Satan, stretched out upon the burning marl of h.e.l.l.

In perfect contrast with the sea monster, the beautiful mermaiden lifted her pallid face above the water, dripping with the crystal tears of the lake, and gathering her long raven locks, that floated like the train of a meteor down her back, she carelessly flung them across her swelling bosom, as if to reproach us for gazing upon her beauteous form. But there my eyes were fastened! If she were entranced by the music, I was not less so with her beauty. Presently the roseate hues of a dying dolphin played athwart her brow and cheeks, and ere long a gentle sigh, as if stolen from the trembling chords of an Eolian harp, issued from her coral lips. Again and again it broke forth, until it beat in full symphony with the cadences of Juan's rustic flute.

My attention was at this moment aroused by the suspicious clicking of my comrade's rifle. Turning around suddenly, I beheld Liehard, with his piece leveled at the unconscious mermaid.

"Great G.o.d!" I exclaimed! "Liehard, would you commit murder?" But the warning came too late, for instantaneously the quick report of his rifle and the terrific shriek of the mermaid broke the noontide stillness; and, rearing her bleeding form almost entirely out of the water, she plunged headlong forwards, a corpse. Beholding his prey, powerless within his grasp, the serpent splashed toward her, and, ere I could c.o.c.k my rifle, he had seized her unresisting body, and sank with it into the mysterious caverns of the lake. At this instant, I gave a loud outcry, as if in pain. On opening my eyes, my wife was bending over me, the midday sun was shining in my face, d.i.c.k Barter was spinning some confounded yarn about the Bay of Biscay and the rum trade of Jamaica, and the sloop _Edith Beaty_ was still riding at anchor off the wild glen, and gazing tranquilly at her ugly image in the crystal mirror of Lake Bigler.

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

X.

_ROSENTHAL'S ELAINE._

I stood and gazed far out into the waste; No dip of oar broke on the listening ear; But the quick rippling of the inward flood Gave warning of approaching argosy.

Adown the west, the day's last fleeting gleam Faded and died, and left the world in gloom.

Hope hung no star up in the murky east To cheer the soul, or guide the pilgrim's way.

Black frown'd the heavens, and black the answering earth Reflected from her watery wastes the night.

Sudden, a plash! then silence. Once again The dripping oar dipped in its silver blade, Parting the waves, as smiles part beauty's lips.

Betwixt me and the curtain of the cloud, Close down by the horizon's verge, there crept From out the darkness, barge and crew and freight, Sailless and voiceless, all!

Ah! Then I knew I stood upon the brink of Time. I saw Before me Death's swift river sweep along And bear its burden to the grave.

"Elaine!"

One seamew screamed, in solitary woe; "Elaine! Elaine!" stole back the echo, weird And musical, from off the further sh.o.r.e.

Then burst a chorus wild, "Elaine! Elaine!"

And gazing upward through the twilight haze, Mine eyes beheld King Arthur's phantom Court.

There stood the st.u.r.dy monarch: he who drove The hordes of Hengist from old Albion's strand; And, leaning on his stalwart arm, his queen, The fair, the false, but trusted Guinevere!

And there, like the statue of a demi-G.o.d, In marble wrought by some old Grecian hand, With eyes downcast, towered Lancelot of the Lake.

Lavaine and Torre, the heirs of Astolat, And he, the sorrowing Sire of the Dead, Together with a throng of valiant knights And ladies fair, were gathered as of yore, At the Round Table of bold Arthur's Court.

There, too, was Tristram, leaning on his lance, Whose eyes alone of all that weeping host Swam not in tears; but indignation burned Red in their sockets, like volcanic fires, And from their blazing depths a Fury shot Her hissing arrows at the guilty pair.

Then Lancelot, advancing to the front, With glance transfixed upon the canvas true That sheds immortal fame on ROSENTHAL, Thus chanted forth his Requiem for the Dead:

Fresh as the water in the fountain, Fair as the lily by its side, Pure as the snow upon the mountain, Is the angel Elaine!

My spirit bride!

Day after day she grew fairer, As she pined away in sorrow, at my side; No pearl in the ocean could be rarer Than the angel Elaine!

My spirit bride!

The hours pa.s.sed away all unheeded, For love hath no landmarks in its tide.

No child of misfortune ever pleaded In vain To Elaine!

My spirit bride!

Here, where sad Tamesis is rolling The wave of its sorrow-laden tide, Forever on the air is heard tolling The refrain Of Elaine!

My spirit bride!

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

XI.

_THE TELESCOPIC EYE._

A LEAF FROM A REPORTER'S NOTE-BOOK.

For the past five or six weeks, rumors of a strange abnormal development of the powers of vision of a youth named Johnny Palmer, whose parents reside at South San Francisco, have been whispered around in scientific circles in the city, and one or two short notices have appeared in the columns of some of our contemporaries relative to the prodigious _lusus naturae_, as the scientists call it.

Owing to the action taken by the California College of Sciences, whose members comprise some of our most scientific citizens, the affair has a.s.sumed such importance as to call for a careful and exhaustive investigation.

Being detailed to investigate the flying stories, with regard to the powers of vision claimed for a lad named John or "Johnny" Palmer, as his parents call him, we first of all ventured to send in our card to Professor Gibbins, the President of the California College of Sciences.

It is always best to call at the fountain-head for useful information, a habit which our two hundred thousand readers on this coast can never fail to see and appreciate. An estimable gentleman of the African persuasion, to whom we handed our "pasteboard," soon returned with the polite message, "Yes, sir; _in_. Please walk up." And so we followed our conductor through several pa.s.sages almost as dark as the face of the _cicerone_, and in a few moments found ourselves in the presence of, perhaps, the busiest man in the city of San Francisco.

Without any flourish of trumpets, the Professor inquired our object in seeking him and the information we desired. "Ah," said he, "that is a long story. I have no time to go into particulars just now. I am computing the final sheet of Professor Davidson's report of the Transit of Venus, last year, at Yokohama and Loo-Choo. It must be ready before May, and it requires six months' work to do it correctly."

"But," I rejoined, "can't you tell me where the lad is to be found?"

"And if I did, they will not let you see him."

"Let me alone for that," said I, smiling; "a reporter, like love, finds his way where wolves would fear to tread."

"Really, my dear sir," quickly responded the Doctor, "I have no time to chat this morning. Our special committee submitted its report yesterday, which is on file in that book-case; and if you will promise not to publish it until after it has been read in open session of the College, you may take it to your sanctum, run it over, and clip from it enough to satisfy the public for the present."

Saying this, he rose from his seat, opened the case, took from a pigeon-hole a voluminous written doc.u.ment tied up with red tape, and handed it to me, adding, "Be careful!" Seating himself without another word, he turned his back on me, and I sallied forth into the street.

Reaching the office, I scrutinized the writing on the envelope, and found it as follows: "Report of Special Committee--Boy Palmer--Vision--Laws of Light--Filed February 10, 1876--St.i.ttmore, Sec." Opening the doc.u.ment, I saw at once that it was a full, accurate, and, up to the present time, complete account of the phenomenal case I was after, and regretted the promise made not to publish the entire report until read in open session of the College. Therefore, I shall be compelled to give the substance of the report in my own words, only giving _verbatim_ now and then a few scientific phrases which are not fully intelligible to me, or susceptible of circ.u.mlocution in common language.

The report is signed by Doctors Bryant, Gadbury and Golson, three of our ablest medical men, and approved by Professor Smyth, the oculist. So far, therefore, as authenticity and scientific accuracy are concerned, our readers may rely implicitly upon the absolute correctness of every fact stated and conclusion reached.

The first paragraph of the report gives the name of the child, "John Palmer, age, nine years, and place of residence, South San Francisco, Culp Hill, near Catholic Orphan Asylum;" and then plunges at once into _in medias res_.

It appears that the period through which the investigation ran was only fifteen days; but it seems to have been so thorough, by the use of the ophthalmoscope and other modern appliances and tests, that no regrets ought to be indulged as to the brevity of the time employed in experiments. Besides, we have superadded a short and minute account of our own, verifying some of the most curious facts reported, with several tests proposed by ourselves and not included in the statement of the scientific committee.

To begin, then, with the beginning of the inquiries by the committee.

They were conducted into a small back room, darkened by old blankets hung up at the window, for the purpose of the total exclusion of daylight; an absurd remedy for blindness, recommended by a noted quack whose name adorns the extra fly-leaf of the San Francisco _Truth Teller_. The lad was reclining upon an old settee, ill-clad and almost idiotic in expression. As the committee soon ascertained, his mother only was at home, the father being absent at his customary occupation--that of switch-tender on the San Jose Railroad. She notified her son of the presence of strangers and he rose and walked with a firm step toward where the gentlemen stood, at the entrance of the room. He shook them all by the hand and bade them good morning. In reply to questions rapidly put and answered by his mother, the following account of the infancy of the boy and the accidental discovery of his extraordinary powers of vision was given:

He was born in the house where the committee found him, nine years ago the 15th of last January. Nothing of an unusual character occurred until his second year, when it was announced by a neighbor that the boy was completely blind, his parents never having been suspicious of the fact before that time, although the mother declared that for some months anterior to the discovery she had noticed some acts of the child that seemed to indicate mental imbecility rather than blindness. From this time forward until a few months ago nothing happened to vary the boy's existence except a new remedy now and then prescribed by neighbors for the supposed malady. He was mostly confined to a darkened chamber, and was never trusted alone out of doors. He grew familiar, by touch and sound, with the forms of most objects about him, and could form very accurate guesses of the color and texture of them all. His conversational powers did not seem greatly impaired, and he readily acquired much useful knowledge from listening attentively to everything that was said in his presence. He was quite a musician, and touched the harmonicon, banjo and accordeon with skill and feeling. He was unusually sensitive to the presence of light, though incapable of seeing any object with any degree of distinctness; and hence the attempt to exclude light as the greatest enemy to the recovery of vision. It was very strange that up to the time of the examination of the committee, no scientific examination of the boy's eye had been made by a competent oculist, the parents contenting themselves with the chance opinions of visitors or the cheap nostrums of quacks. It is perhaps fortunate for science that this was the case, as a cure for the eye might have been an extinction of its abnormal power.