At the appointed hour the signal of sailing was given. The anchor was weighed, the sails filled with the chill north wind, and slowly the gallant ship stood down the harbor. Soon cries from many mouths announced that a new object of interest had been discovered; a large crow was seen hovering over the ship, now rising and now sinking, and flapping its black funeral wings over it. In those days of superstition an incident like this was, in the absence of every other sign, sufficient of itself to create consternation and dismay. In this instance, when so many omens of evil had occurred, it may well be supposed that the appearance of the dark messenger did not tend to allay the fears and misgivings of the town's-people. The motions of the bird were watched by all with intense interest. After hanging over the ship, or sweeping round for ten or fifteen minutes, now flapping so far away as to create hopes of its disappearance altogether, and then returning again to crush those hopes in the very bud, it finally settled down slowly, and alighted upon the main truck, where it remained until the ship herself was lost to the sight of all, save those who had trusted themselves to her strength, and that 'Eye that never sleeps.'
Slowly the multitude dispersed, with many shakings of the head and doubtful looks, with many whisperings among themselves, and many misgivings of the heart, that they had taken their last look of the gallant bark.
A month had rolled away since the departure of the ship, when one night the inhabitants of Salem were aroused from their beds, to behold a strange sight in the heavens. It was that of a large ship, apparently under full sail, with every yard braced up, and every square inch of canvass spread to its full extent; but from every point, from deck to trucks and from stem to stern, wide lurid flames of fire were streaming up, with fearful and appalling brilliancy. For two more nights the same scene was witnessed, with this difference on the third, that the ship was seen to go down very suddenly below the horizon in the height of the conflagration, instead of fading away gradually, as on the two previous nights. It 'was an honest ghost' of The Doomed Ship. The 'Countess of Pembroke' was never heard of more.
[THE DEITY.]
BY MISS MARY GARDINER, OF SHELTER-ISLAND, SUFFOLK COUNTY.
Beneath the quenchless light
Of the broad day-god's life-imparting ray,
Wrapt in the gloomy clouds of mental night
That round him thickly lay,
The ancient Persian bowed, and at that shrine
Worshipped the glorious effluence as divine.
Thou! whose creative voice
Called from the depths of chaos form and might,
Bade at a word unnumbered worlds rejoice
In that effulgent light;
Sun of the Universe! to Thee I bow,
Almighty God! list to my humble offering now!
Before the stars of night
In circling systems moved through yonder sky,
Thou! from Eternity's unmeasured height,
Wrapt in immensity,
Beheld the earth chaotic solitude,
And ages roll away in their infinitude.