Whilst they had been thus engaged in devising means for the expatriation of Felix, a danger more immediately threatening called for their undivided attention. Though it had been supposed they were entirely safe from Indian incursions, they noticed several suspicious signs and indications which induced them to prepare for an attack. The friendly feeling that had existed between the villagers and the savages in their immediate vicinity, had not deterred other tribes from ravaging wherever opportunities were presented. In this new difficulty, the alchemist nobly volunteered his assistance. Without waiting for such a call, he assumed the command as one familiar with the practices and habits of the savage, and who had frequently been engaged in similar skirmishes. As was apprehended, the war-whoop was suddenly heard early one morning, and fully indicated the desperate encounter to be expected. The attack was commenced with a fury common to Indian warfare, and it was mainly through the vigilance of the magician that the contest resulted in the total rout of the savages. All were compelled to be lavish in their praises of his services, but even the marvellous exploits which they ascribed to him could not inspire confidence and friendship. They were simply regarded as convincing proof of the exercise of forbidden power. Upon being rehearsed again and again, no little magnified at each repetition, few were willing to believe that he could have escaped unless protected by some superhuman agency. Some had even seen strange figures hovering above his head and arresting the many and repeated blows aimed at him. Others had seen him surrounded by more than thirty savages at a time, yet none of these could so closely approach him as to use any weapon. He appeared to be encompassed by a mystic circle which no one could enter, thus enabling him to deal destruction around, whilst his assailants were rendered harmless. When tired of the slaughter in one section of the village, he almost imperceptibly rose above the heads of friends and foes, and was quickly transported to another that demanded his aid. Others, still, had seen him rush wildly into the very midst of savage groups, and rescue a number of brave villagers who had been defending themselves against great odds, and so confusing the assailants that they even fell upon themselves to hurry their retreat. The more marvellous his exploits, the more did the villagers regret that he lived amongst them, for he might eventually prove more dangerous than the savages themselves, and how could they resist him?
Felix, however, was not disposed to be an object of dread to the villagers any longer. A few days after the incursion of the Indians, he was no more to be seen. To account for his sudden disappearance, it was alleged that he had followed the savages, and would continue to pursue them until their tribe was totally extinct. He was to become their evil spirit, who would enter into their midst and slaughter as he pleased, whilst their arms should be unavailing against him. This opinion obtained almost general consent as the most plausible, after a careful and cautious examination of his late residence had been made. Nothing was there to be found or seen save the black circle upon the floor, which, to the great astonishment of all, resisted every effort made to erase it. The walls were now more clear and clean than ever, and retained no traces of the mysterious devices that had formerly ornamented them. The entire building appeared as though it had been fitted up for the reception of some fastidious tenant. All this, in the opinion of the villagers, had been the undoubted work of the spirits which they supposed the conjuror had under his command, and which would aid him in his avenging mission.
Their surmises were destined to be materially changed upon the arrival of one of the villagers who had been absent for several months upon public business. He was one of the principal men of the village, which important distinction he had won more through the interest he had manifested against Felix than any excellent qualities of his own. True, there was a little of the German’s good nature in his composition, and he had a great love for all that was wonderful and mysterious. He heard with astonishment the details of the villagers—how they had been attacked during his absence, and how Felix had assisted them, and then suddenly departed, as they supposed, to take vengeance upon the savages. In return, he had something interesting to relate, which soon undeceived them. Whilst wending his solitary way towards the village, he reported, night had overtaken him, and having been still a considerable distance off, he kindled a fire upon the banks of the river, intending to repose until morning. Sometime during the night he was aroused from his quiet slumber, and looking round, he beheld a bright, blazing light in the air, high above the water. To his utter amazement, there was Felix Deford in the blaze! He was vehemently remonstrating with a figure so closely arrayed in black that its outlines could not be distinctly traced. The discussion continued sharply for some time. Although circumstances sufficiently indicated that Felix was in the presence of a superior, his spirit was unconquerable, and he ever seemed the victor in the wordy conflict, as the villager inferred from the manner of his antagonist. The black figure continued to become more terrible at every word, and at last began emitting foam from its mouth and fire from its nostrils, but Felix refused to abate the least in his remonstrances. A different encounter now commenced between them, which promised to be more decisive than words. The blaze that enveloped them began to spread and heave as though it partook of the anger of the combatants, much resembling huge and boisterous billows when dashed into spray in quick succession against an irresistible rock. It seemed to have been caught up in a terrible tempest, and amid its turbulent agitation, the contest between Felix and his antagonist was continued by rapidly hurling large black darts at each other. No want of skilful aim was exhibited, yet each appeared to be composed of an impenetrable substance, and the destructive missiles no sooner touched the person of either than they rebounded again, or flew off at angles, and vanished into air. Abandoning these apparently inefficient instruments, they approached, and engaged hand to hand with fiery swords; but so equally were they matched in this mode of warfare that they only exhausted themselves, and after making a number of furious, but ineffectual blows and thrusts, they threw away their weapons. Panting from the exertion of the desperate battle, they stood for some time gazing intently at each other, exhibiting a fearful and unearthly savageness. At length the contest was again resumed, and huge bolts, whose dark-blue color contrasted beautifully with the glare that surrounded them, were thrown with marvellous dexterity, but they were as vigilantly and skilfully parried or avoided. It was now as difficult to be true to their aim as it had been easy before, plainly indicating that a blow from the bolt was held in different esteem than a stroke from the darts previously used. Suddenly Felix sprang with a savage leap upon his antagonist, having at the same moment been struck by one of these monstrous missiles, when instantly the flame disappeared, and both fell rapidly down into the water. Nothing was now heard but the rushing of the current, which seemed to have become more boisterous, and the villager composed himself to sleep again.
He awoke in the morning, and directing his eyes over the body of the water, he beheld rapid currents from all sides, rushing towards the spot where the combatants had fallen. The object was strange to him, and he entered his light canoe determined to investigate it. Fortunately for his curiosity, before he reached the ungovernable current, he saw the trunk of a large tree floating down the river. It was drawn towards the arena that had attracted his attention, and rapidly approaching the centre, it was whirled round and round, tearing up the water as if laboring in a mighty whirlwind, or grappling to be freed from the clutch of a fearful monster. Its terrible struggles were unavailing, and by a powerful effort, as though the might of the waters had been concentrated upon one object, it was raised on end, when down, down it passed from sight. This new wonder was scarcely less surprising to the villager than the occurrences he had witnessed during the night, and guarding his fragile bark he for some time watched the raging element. Every thing that came within reach of the current, which had formed itself into a great funnel, was dragged down its voracious centre, however awful or prolonged its struggles. What became of it afterwards ever remained a close and impenetrable mystery.
After this astonishing report had been heard and fully commented upon by the villagers, all other surmises in reference to Felix were abandoned, and many visited the place where he had fought his last battle. There was none now to be found amongst them who had no regrets for the poor alchemist. Although he had been an object of fear to them whilst seen in their midst, he had rendered services too important when the village had been assailed by the savages, not to have secured the good wishes of all; and if they had so heartily desired him to remove his abode elsewhere, they as fervently wished prosperity to attend him. Even the sharp-visaged old maid, who had before so repeatedly expressed her ill opinion of him, now exhibited her gratitude. During the assault of the Indians, she affirmed, he had twice rescued her from the tomahawk of the savages just in time to prevent the blows that would certainly have terminated her existence. With all her want of charity and magnanimity, there was still the sweet tenderness of woman in her nature, and she could not restrain her lamentations and her tears.
For a long, long time, the story of Felix continued to be the village talk. The strange disposition of the waters that commemorated his last exploit, acquired the name of the “Magic Funnel” from the villagers, and whatever was drawn into it was engulfed forever. Its end or termination remained unknown. It was a suggestion of some of the more philosophic villagers, that the immense currents which then fed it may have entered again into the body of the river at a distance of many miles, or have had a number of outlets so small that none would have thought of tracing them to their original source. Whatever of truth or error there may have been in these and kindred surmises, it is said, as a truth which was never doubted by the villagers, that the poor and ill-fated alchemist makes a circuit every year, entering the “Magic Funnel” again, together with his antagonist. On every anniversary of his fearful encounter, the singular flame may be seen again in the air, with a renewal of the battle. Often these waters lash each other as if in great trouble, and it has passed into a traditional saying with the sturdy watermen of the Susquehanna, whenever they see them surge and foam with unusual impetuosity, that the conjuror and his powerful adversary are at each other again, interchanging their terrible frowns and hurling their fearful bolts. The humble boatman, as he cautiously moves by this mysterious place, now far less dangerous than many years ago, with his fragile skiff or light canoe, still gives a sighing thought to the memory of the conjuror, and not unfrequently sings a doleful requiem over the fate of the Village Alchemist.
H. C.
REMARKS,
INTENDED TO PRECEDE THE FOLLOWING ESSAY.