Page:The Atlantic Monthly Volume 2.djvu/824

816 'Twas then this jolly mariner Returned unto his ship, And told unto the wondering crew The story of his trip, With many oaths and curses, too, Upon his wicked lip!—

As hoping—so this mariner In fearful words harangued— His timbers might be shivered, and His le'ward scuppers danged, (A double curse, and vastly worse Than being shot or hanged!)

If ever he—and here again A dreadful oath he swore— If ever he, except at sea, Spoke any stranger more, Or like a son of—something—went A-cruising on the shore!

affairs are at their worst, a bold project may retrieve them by giving an assurance, else wanting, that hope, spirit, and energy still exist.

Place an inferior character in contact with the finest circumstances, and, from wanting affinities with them, he will still remain, from no fault of his own, insensible to their attractions. Take him up the mount of vision, and show him the finest scene in Nature, and, instead of taking in the whole circle of its beauty, he will, quite as likely, have his attention engrossed by something mean and insignificant under his nose. I was reminded of this, on taking a little boy, three years old, to the top of the New York Reservoir. Placing him on one of the parapets, I endeavored to call his attention to the more salient and distant features of the extended prospect; but the little fellow's mind was too immature to be at all appreciative of them. His interest was confined to what he saw going on in a dirty inclosure on the opposite side of the street, where two or three goats were moving about. After watching them with curious interest for some time, "See, see!" said he, "dem is pigs down dare!" Was there need for quarrelling with my fine little man for seeing pigs where there were only goats, or goats where there was much worthier to be seen?

A brave deed performed, a noble object accomplished, gives a fillip to the spirits, an exhilaration to the feelings, like that imparted by Champagne, only more