Obed was so impatient to come into possession of his wealth, he scarcely ate or drank all day, and as soon as it was dark, set off in search of the cave. After groping about for a long while, and falling down several times, he came at last upon it, and was rather surprised at not finding the hermit in waiting for him; but seeing a torch approach, concluded that it must be he; but was soon much surprised at seeing instead three men, two of whom he recognized as the same who had been the night before at the tavern. They came upon him, and suddenly seizing him, gave him a most unmerciful beating. They then bound him hand and foot, and took from him his money; and after making themselves merry for a while at his expense, left him lying upon the ground half dead, telling him that no doubt the hermit would come and show him the treasure before morning. There he lay all night, moaning and crying, and then came to his mind thoughts of his own undutiful conduct, in leaving his brothers unprovided for, and he felt that he was only justly punished for all his wickedness. He was not only half frozen with the cold, but was in a fright lest some beast of prey should come upon him in this helpless state, all bound as he was, and mangle or devour him; but he was relieved from the worst of his fears in the morning; for a company of sailors passing that way going to their vessel, found him in this pitiable condition; they helped him up on one of their mules, and bearing him to the inn, from whence he had come, made inquiries, concerning the two men, and the owners of the bird, but found they had gone off early the evening preceding; and though great exertions were made by the people of the town, almost all of whom had been in some way or other deceived by them, no traces of them could be found.
Now poor Obed knew not what course to pursue; he had no money, to return to his native home; and even if he had, shame would have prevented his doing so; he therefore accepted the offer of the sailors, that he should join them, and go on board the ship; and while he is passing a life of toil and hardship upon the perilous ocean, let us go back and trace out the history of his second brother, Mozam.
As soon as he left his home, he went directly to a neighboring seaport, and embarked in a vessel that was going to the coast of Africa, as if thinking that the farther he got from his home, the greater would be the chances of his finding the bird of promise. After reaching the land, he roamed about from place to place, till nearly all his money had gone, and yet no richer or wiser. Multitudes of birds of every shape and hue, daily passed before his eyes. At last he fell in with a company who were crossing the desert in a caravan, and many strange sights were seen by Mozam. Nothing awakened his wonder so much as the gigantic ostriches that ran much swifter than horses over the sands. “Surely,” thought he, “what creature is more capable of revealing any knowledge or mystery to man than this—what bird could be one-half so wonderful; this must be the creature that is to exercise such an influence over my fortunes.” But yet nothing occurred, day after day, to confirm his hopes of their being able to assist him, though hundreds of them passed daily before him.
But one day, one of these creatures who seemed very tame, came near the caravan, and allowed itself to be fed, caressed, and petted by the company, which excited much wonder; but above all, they were surprised at finding a string hung with bits of gold and shells about its neck, and no one could explain this strange problem. But Mozam, although he kept his convictions secret, was satisfied in his mind as to the meaning of it. So in the morning before any else were stirring, he stole off to the inclosure where the animal had been confined, and mounting upon its back, he let it go free. It flew off with such speed that he could at first hardly contrive to hold himself on; but by degrees he became accustomed to its motion, and maintained his seat. To say that he felt no fear, while this immense creature was sweeping along with him over the trackless wastes, would be untrue; but he felt quite sure that it was sent as the harbinger of his good fortune, and that the gold around its neck was a sure indication of its being able to conduct him to a mine of that precious metal. So, blinded by ambition to the danger of his situation, he continued on till the ostrich ran with him into a camp of Bedouins, from whom the bird had wandered; a set of wild people, the very last whom Mozam would have desired to have encountered; and from whose mercy he had so little to hope. He looked every moment for them to strike him dead, but instead of this, they only amused themselves in tormenting him to see him writhe, which was almost worse than death. As these people subsisted upon raw flesh and roots, he was almost starved, and as they were constantly fighting with other barbarous tribes, his life was all the time in danger. Here was a fine end to all his ambitious schemes, and he had plenty of leisure and cause to repent his early misconduct. He had brought ruin upon his own head. So miserable was he among these barbarians, he was several times on the point of making way with himself. He continued in this miserable state of existence, till at last, tired of carrying him about with them, these people sold him as a slave to the Barbary States; and here let him remain, while we continue the history of Sadoc.
It will be remembered that with the money that he had saved he purchased a small lot. On digging, it was found to contain a quarry of valuable stone, which he immediately set about getting out in order for sale, and it yielded such a quantity, and sold at so high a rate, that he soon began to be a capitalist, and able to enter into speculations, which, proving successful, he soon found himself above want, and in time became the largest landed proprietor in the country. He now built a fine mansion where his father’s old cottage, which was pulled down, had stood, and married a lady as wise and prudent as himself, and with as noble a family of children around him as one could desire, he enjoyed as great an amount of happiness as generally falls to the lot of man. The fame of his benevolence spread abroad, and he was more respected for his integrity than any other person in the country. Notwithstanding all the honors that were showered upon him, he never forgot his duty to his poor old uncle, who used to sit, as he had ever done, in the warm chimney-corner, the long winter days and nights, and doze away his life with the old speckled hen, who was aged like himself, in her nest beside him.
During all this long time he had heard nothing from his brothers, and often wondered what had become of them, and which of them had found the bird, according to his father’s prediction.
One evening about this time, at the entrance of the town where Sadoc resided, a poor sailor was seen coming wearily along. He sat himself upon a stone, and seemed overcome with his emotions. The tears stole down his cheeks, and he looked as if he could not advance a step further. While he sat there, another traveler, in very nearly the same plight as himself, came up with him. The last comer was a tall, dark man, who seemed to have been bronzed by exposure to the sun. Seeing each other in a like sad condition, they entered into conversation; then at last it came out they were the brothers, Obed and Mozam, one of whom, worn out with voyaging, had left his vocation of mariner to find an asylum in the poor-house of his native town; the other, who had escaped from slavery, and toiled his way along on foot for miles and miles, was coming for the same purpose. They rushed into each other’s arms, and shed tears of pity at the sorrowful case in which each found the other, and then, feeling not quite so lonely, they went on together into the town. They bent their course toward the spot their boyhood had known so well, where the old cottage had stood. In its place was a splendid mansion, at which they gazed for a few moments, and were about to turn away, when a friendly voice hailed them, and arrested their retreating footsteps; and when they said that they were travellers, without food or place of shelter, they were led into an apartment where a warm fire was blazing, and were requested to seat themselves while a servant should procure them some food. Obed started back in amazement as he caught sight of a figure seated in the chimney-corner, and exclaimed, “My poor old uncle, yet alive and here.” Mozam knew him at the same time, and, turning round as the master of the house entered, recognised in him Sadoc, their brother (for he had not changed half as much as themselves), and whispered his discovery to Obed. They consulted apart, and feared to reveal themselves lest he should spurn them on account of their poverty, their former misconduct, and his present grandeur; but ere long their feelings overpowered them; they fell down at his feet, and asked his forgiveness and his pity.
Sadoc, though at first he could hardly believe that this poor worn sailor was his brother Obed, and still less that the dark and haggard man was the once handsome Mozam, yet he was convinced of the truth. He pardoned them freely, and wept tears over their misfortunes, and promised them they should never want a home while he was able to give them one. All night long Obed and Mozam sat by the fireside recounting their adventures to their brother, and at last, when they had told all, Sadoc spake, and said, “How strange that the prophecy of our father should not yet have been fulfilled; the wonderful bird has not been found.” At this the old uncle, who had all the while been dozing in the corner, suddenly roused up, and said, pointing to the old hen beside him, “This is the wonderful bird, and the founder of your good fortune,” and directly relapsed into his stupor. The truth then flashed upon the mind of Sadoc, and when he related to his brother the history of the hen, it was as clear to their minds as to his own, that it was to her that his father’s prediction related, and that this was the bird that was to bring such riches to the family. They saw that honesty, and a careful attention to duty, was more likely to bring a man to prosperity at last, than roguery and selfishness. But, as they had paid so dearly for their early misdemeanors, they were permitted to enjoy rest in the house of Sadoc, where they recovered in some degree from the effect of their hardships and sufferings, and were contented and happy. As for the old uncle, he died shortly after this; and the old speckled hen about the same time departed this life; but Sadoc never forgot his gratitude for her services, though he lived to a great age.
IX.
THE MERMAID AND HER CHILD.
A MERMAID was sporting on the surface of the ocean; in her arms was her babe, which she nourished at her breast, as a human mother would have done her own offspring. While she was lightly rocking to and fro, a ship came in sight, running before the wind, the keel ploughing the white foam, sails unfurled, and streamers flying. The mermaid knew not what it was—she thought it might be a huge sea monster; never before had she seen aught like it, for her home was in those unfrequented seas, which the ships of men have not explored. She gazed awhile on it in wonder, retreating, but with her eye still fixed; while thus lost in astonishment and awe, an enormous shark, that had been watching her, came swiftly, and snatched the infant from her arms, and ere she was aware, bore it beneath the surface. The mother immediately dived in pursuit, but came in sight only in time to see the young one devoured by a hundred voracious creatures, like that which had torn it from her; and she barely escaped from them with her own life. In her agony, not heeding whither she went, all day long she kept in the path of the vessel, and midnight found her still following it, in a furious storm, which she fearlessly and stoutly breasted. The sea was her native element, and the raging of the waters was like music to her ear. At last shrieks from the ship roused her from the apathy into which her grief had plunged her, and looking up, she saw the tall masts, which had seemed to reach the very skies, broken and dismantled, and the vessel itself about to dash upon the rocks, from which it had no power of escaping. But ere this, a boat had been lowered, and living beings, whose forms were wonderful and strange to her, (by the aid of a rope,) had been let down from the side of the ship, and placed safely within it. At last a mother and her child together, in descending, missed the tossing bark, and both fell into the sea. The mother was quickly rescued, but her babe had fallen from her arms, and sank out of her sight; and the sailors were forced, notwithstanding the beseeching petition of the agonized mother, to push off and leave it to its fate, or the boat, and all in it, would have been swamped in the whirlpool, which drew in all surrounding objects, as the vessel, which presently was dashed in pieces, rapidly filled, and sank into the depths of the ocean. The mermaid saw all, and diving below, she received the babe in her open arms, and on beholding its beautiful and innocent countenance, she rejoiced over it, as if she had found a treasure, and tenderly nourishing it and hushing its cries, she bore it far away to her home in those unknown seas, from which she had wandered. Here amid the labyrinths of waters, spring up tiny islands of coral, covered with verdure, high above the reach of the floods, which dash around them. On one of these, scarcely larger than the cradle which it was to imitate, the mermaid made a bed for the little charge, and as in this clime, “eternal summer reigns,” she left the child sleeping warmly and securely beneath a large spreading tree, which protected it from the sun, and fanned its slumbers with broad green leaves, while she sought her companions and her boy Rosond, whom she found near the spot, and who welcomed her with joy, after her long absence. Curiously they looked upon the little daughter with the blue eyes and fair brow; and not doubting that it was her own infant, born during her absence, they could but be amazed at its strange form, and in their hearts, pitied the poor mother, whose little one would undoubtedly soon perish, as it would never be able, like their own offspring, to paddle about or to live in the waters without assistance. Little the mother regarded or seemed to need their sympathy; she appeared quite happy and contented in what they considered her great affliction; and wondering at her insensibility, they left her alone with her children.