black;

The clouds were everywhere; There was a feeling of suspense In nature, a mysterious sense Of terror in the air.

And all on board the Valdemar
Was still as still could be ;
Save when the dismal ship-bell tolled,
As ever and anon she rolled,

And lurched into the sea.

The captain up and down the deck
Went striding to and fro;
Now watched the compass at the wheel,
Now lifted up his hand to feel

Which way the wind might blow.
And now he looked up at the sails,
And now upon the deep;

In every fibre of his frame
He felt the storm before it came,
He had no thought of sleep.

Eight bells and suddenly abaft,
With a great rush of rain,
Making the ocean white with spume,
In darkness like the day of doom,
On came the hurricane.

There rose up from the sea,
As from a foundered ship of stone,
Three bare and splintered masts alore:
They were the Chimneys Three.

And onward dashed the Valdemar
And leaped into the dark;

A denser mist, a colder blast,
A little shudder, and she had passed
Right through the Phantom Bark.

She cleft in twain the shadowy hulk,
But cleft it unaware;

As when, careering to her nest,
The sea-gull severs with her breast
The unresisting air.

Again the lightning flashed; again
They saw the Carmilhan,
Whole as before in hull and spar;
But now on board of the Valdemar
Stood the Klaboterman.

And they all knew their doom was sealed; They knew that death was near; Some prayed who never prayed before, And some they wept, and some they

swore,

And some were mute with fear.

Drive his new Flying Stage-coach, four in hand,

Down the long lane, and out into the land,

And knew that he was far upon the way To Ipswich and to Boston on the Bay!

Just then the meditations of the Earl
Were interrupted by a little girl,
Barefooted, ragged, with neglected hair,
Eyes full of laughter, neck and shoulders
bare,

A thin slip of a girl, like a new moon,
Sure to be rounded into beauty soon,
A creature men would worship and adore,
Though now in mean habiliments she
bore

A pail of water, dripping, through the street,

And bathing, as she went, her naked feet.

It was a pretty picture, full of grace, The slender form, the delicate, thin face;

spun,

The silver harness glittering in the sun, Outriders with red jackets, lithe and lank,

Pounding the saddles as they rose and sank,

While all alone within the chariot sat

A portly person with three-cornered hat, A crimson velvet coat, head high in air, Gold-headed cane, and nicely powdered hair,

And diamond buckles sparkling at his knees,

Dignified, stately, florid, much at ease. Onward the pageant swept, and as it passed,

Fair Mistress Stavers courtesied low and fast; For this was Governor Wentworth, driving down

To Little Harbor, just beyond the town, Where his Great House stood looking out to sea,

A goodly place, where it was good to be.

Moons waxed and waned, the lilacs bloomed and died,

In the broad river ebbed and flowed the tide,

Ships went to sea, and ships came home from sea,

And the slow years sailed by and ceased to be.

served

Brown

trate.