The Gold Brick

THE GOLD BRICK. BY MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS. AUTHOR OF FASHION AND FAMINE, MARY DERWENT, THE OLD HOMESTEAD, THE REJECTED WIFE, THE HEIRESS, THE WIFE'S SECRET, SILENT STRUGGLES, ETC.
His was the deepest sorrow, for it grew Out from his crime, a night-shade of the soul. There, fed on poison—bathed with bitter dew, She found the evil thing. Her sweet control Unearthed the root, and softly planted there A tiny germ, all white and pure as snow, And then with tears, and smiles, and silent prayer, Through grief and darkness, watched the lone plant grow A stately tree, rooted so deep in Love, That its best fruitage must be found above.
Philadelphia: T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS; 306 CHESTNUT STREET.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Southern District of New York.
TO MY DEAR FRIEND, MRS. BENJAMIN F. LOAN OF ST. JOSEPH, MISSOURI, THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
ANN S. STEPHENS.
New York, March , 1866.
A low coast, burdened in every foot of its soil with the luxuriant growth of a tropical climate; a large town, straggling and flat, swarming like a hive of bees with turbulent life. Lights flickering wildly from the windows and dancing with a fantastic and red glare up and down the streets. A dull, hollow sound rolling constantly out upon the stillness of the waters, broken now and then with sharp shrieks as lightning cleaves the thunder gust.
This was the scene commanded from the deck of a New England brig, lying in the harbor of Port au Prince, on one of those terrible nights in the end of the last century, when the horrible passions that had rioted through France, like wild beasts ravening for blood, fled across seas and fired themselves anew in the hot life of the tropics.
The contrast between the stillness of the harbor, where the starlight fell smilingly, and the waters rippled like kisses around the vessels, and that demon riot on the shore, was awful. To lie so near, with death shrieks cutting the air every instant, with murderous yells chasing them, like fiends, was enough to drive men mad. The iron-hearted New England sailors on that deck, grew restive as caged lions, while the tumult swelled louder and louder around them. The young captain turned white as he took short marches up and down the deck. The men drew close together, eyeing each other with fierce glances. A word from the captain would have sent them headlong into the massacre, in a wild effort to save the women and children, whose shrieks, even from the distance, drove them frantic.