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And be that night, at least, their guest.
To this Galgano answered nay ;
He was in haste, he could not stay.
But Salvatore, with much grace,
Still urged, and would not be denied,
And still, like one preoccupied,
And wholly bent upon the chase,
Galgano, with a burning face,
And downcast, troubled, restless eye,
Put his entreaties softly by,
As in a grove one puts aside
The branches that impede his way.
So he rode on, and would not stay.

Musing awhile the old man stood,
Then left the shadow of the wood,
And crossed the sunshine on the lawn,
And climbed the gleaming marble stair,
And disappeared within the door,
Pacing along the oaken floor,
With thoughtful, meditative air,
To seek that lovely lady fair,
Who from the window had withdrawn.
Then he discoursed with liberal tongue
Of his dear friend, so brave and young,
And could not cease, but more and more
Counted his rare perfections o'er,
And seemed to seek a thousand ways
To magnify Galgano's praise.
To this the lady scarce replied;
Indeed, she did not care to speak;
But once, half audibly she sighed,
And once she turned away to hide
The blush she felt upon her cheek.

And even as he spake, they heard
The screams of an affrighted bird,
And from the window they beheld
A falcon, with his jesses belled,
Out of a neighboring thicket soar.
Three circles in the air-no more-
He made, with such a sweeping wing,
It seemed a pleasure, not a toil ;
Then, like a serpent from his coil,
Or like a stone hurled from a sling,
Down on his prey he came, and tore
Its bosom, so that drops of gore
Fell heavy on the glossy leaves,
As rain-drops from the dripping eaves;
And, with ensanguined beak and feather,
Through the great dome of foliage dark,
Upon the greensward of the park,
Victor and victim fell together!
And all that Salvatore said,
When he perceived the bird was dead,
And saw the gallant falcon spurn
His lifeless quarry, and return,
Soaring above the garden wall,
Unto his master's distant call, —
All that he said was simply this:
"It is Galgano's hawk, I wis,
And much each other they resemble !"
But Salvatore did not see
His gentle lady suddenly
Grow pale, and close her eyes, and tremble.

Ah, strange caprice of human will !
We struggle blindly, but at length
A strength that's greater than our strength,
Or in our weakness seeming so,
Impels us onward to fulfil
Our destiny of weal or woe!
That falcon wounded more than one!
And from the setting of that sun,
The luckless lady Bella Mano
With wayward passion loved Galgano ;
Galgano, who, with hawk on wrist,
Rode onward through the rising mist
Along the great highway, that downward
Ran winding through the valley townward,
And led him, by its thread of white,
Through labyrinthine caves of night,
Until across the landscape brown
He saw the faint lights of the town,
Aud tower and belfry came in sight,
And through the gateway, dark and tall,
He entered the deserted street,
And heard the waters, soft and sweet,
Of Branda's fountain in their fall.
And now, in that old country-seat,
Slow passed the days of drowsy heat,
And each one, as it came and went,
Still added something to the store
Of that fair lady's discontent.
For though Galgano came no more,
Yet was he ever present there,
As he had bribed each gust of air
That flew across the flowery mead
To breathe his name, and urge his prayer,
And with the lady intercede.
At length

it was a luckless day
It chanced, that on some state affair
Old Salvatore went away,
And left her, restless and alone,
In that great, sombre house of stone.
But when the lonely day was spent,
And lonelier night was drawing near,
Her restlessness and discontent
Assumed the guise of love and fear;
And to Galgano's house she sent
A messenger of trust, to say
She had been waiting all that day,
And that her heart at last relented,
And that Galgano was her fate!
But ere he reached the garden gate,
The lady's fickle soul repented,
And she recalled him, but too late.
And then she said in vain 't would be
Longer to thwart her destiny !
So said Galgano, when he heard
The lady's soft and gracious word,
And, scarce believing it, with speed
He mounted on his fleetest steed,
And forth into the country spurred,
And reached the dark arcade of limes
Just as the neighboring convent-bells
Called the pale sisters from their cells,
With melancholy, midnight chimes.
The house was dark, and still, and lonely,
And at one chamber-window only
A light illumed the curtained panes ;

And, drawing back each bolt and bar,
An unseen hand undid the chains,
And set the portal valves ajar.
He entered the long corridor,
Darkness behind him and before ;
No sound he made, no word he spoke,
But, guided by the hand unseen,
Ascended the broad stairs of oak,
And passed alone, out of the night,
Into that chamber full of light,
Of light and loveliness serene!
And as he entered, from her place,
In garments whiter than the snow,
And motion neither quick nor slow,
But full of dignity and grace,
The lady rose to his embrace,
And on his shoulder hid her face,
So that her eyes he could not see,
And murmured in a voice that seemed
Not what he heard, but what he dreamed,
" Welcome, a thousand, thousand times !"
And from the neighboring nunnery
Lond rang the mournful midnight chimes.
Then sat they fondly side by side,
And much they questioned and replied,
And much Galgano wished to know
What had o'ercome the lady's pride,
And changed her and subdued her so.
And she related the whole story ;
The story of that summer day,
When he rode down the woodland way,
And, though entreated, would not stay,
And of the falcon and its flight,
And how her husband, Salvatore,
Spoke of him with so much delight,
With so much love and tenderness,
And placed his name so far above
All others, that she could no less
Than listen, and, in listening, love!

And then upon his hand she laid
Her own, that seemed a thing divine,
And in a gentle whisper said,

Galgano, I am wholly thine!”
But suddenly a sense of guilt
Pierced his sad bosom through and through,
Even as a sword, thrust to the hilt
By some athletic hand, might do.
And, moved by a sublime decision,
He said, in tones of deep contrition,
“May God forbid that I defame
Old Salvatore's honored name,
And pay his noble trust in me
By any act of infamy!”
Then with the instinct of despair
He rushed into the open air!
And homeward riding, through the night,
He felt a wild. but sweet delight
Pervade his breast, with thoughts of peace,
And gratitude for his release,
And joy in triumph of the right!
And from that hour his soul assumed
A nobler attitude and gesture,
And walked with royal look and vesture,
And not as one outcast and doomed !


THE history of the early life of Daniel new cut. He informed me, that he had

Webster is as instructive to the youth labored many a day with Daniel Webster, of our land, as that of his mature life is to in this old mill, and that his companion American statesmen. The events of his stu was ever ready to do his part of the serdent life are imperfectly known. It is the vice. The same boy, Daniel, was accusaim of this article to supply some deficien tomed to drive the team into the woods, cies, and correct some mistakes, in the pub where his elder brother, Ezekiel, cut the lished accounts of this period of his life. logs and assisted in loading them. DanI have visited the place of his nativity, and iel's feeble health convinced his father conversed with the friends of his boyhood; that he could not endure the severe labors I have corresponded with most of his sur of a farmer. He therefore resolved to fit viving classmates and college friends; I him to teach. This fact gave occasion to have examined some hundreds of his let many facetious remarks from his brother ters; and the facts which I now record, Joe, who, as Mr. Webster said, was “a are the result of my investigations. bit of a wag." His fame still lives, in all

Daniel Webster performed the ordinary that region, as a rustic wit, at raisings services of a boy upon his father's farm, and huskings; uttering his jokes in dogtill the age of fourteen. His taste for gerels, which are still said or sung by his agriculture, and his fondness for rural admirers; and some of them are found in life, grew directly out of the associations the literary department of old almanacs. of his childhood.

This same Joe loved to represent Dan as Imagine to yourself a slender, black weak in body and mind, unfit for labor, eyed boy, with serious mien and raven and obliged to study that he might belocks, leading the traveller's horse to come as wise as the rest of the family. water, when he alighted at his father's There was as much truth in the charge of inn; driving the cows to pasture, at early mental imbecility as in that of his habitual dawn, and returning them at the gray of indolence, and no more. Mr. Webster adovening; riding the horse to harrow be mitted that he could never learn to mow. tween the rows of corn, in weeding-time, He was too young to engage in that and following the mowers with a wooden kind of labor when he left the farm spreader, in haying-time; and you have for the school. No reasonable father the true idea of the lad, and of his duties. would expect a slender, sickly boy to In dress, in the means of social and intel swing the scythe with much efficiency or lectual culture, his condition was far be skill before he was fourteen years of age. low that of the sons of farmers and me It has also been reported, that his love of chanics of the present day. Many anec hunting and fishing sometimes made him dotes have been published of his incapacity play truant at school. This is pronounced for manual labor, or of his aversion to it. . false by his surviving schoolmates. Their The testimony of his early companions testimony is, that "he was always present and neighbors contradicts, in general and when the school kept, and that he was alin particular, all stories of his idleness. ways in advance of his associates." He He was an industrious boy. He labored loved books more than sport. He was to the extent of his strength. He was not fond of the ordinary plays of boys of the youngest son, and, perhaps, on that his age, and mingled with them in their account, received some indulgences. Men diversions rather from a desire to please are now living who labored with him, in than to be pleased. He often spent the the field and in the mill—who shared his winter evenings in coasting down the toils and his sports. They affirm that long hill near his father's house. In this " he always worked well, and played exercise, he economized his strength; fair." Boys, in those days, were early " for," says one of his companions," he trained to hard service. I have heard always had a knack of making us draw Mr. Webster say, that he had the charge the sled up the hill.” of his father's saw-mill, and was accus

His fondness for books was very early tomed to tread back the log-carriage, developed. He could not himself remem.. when he was not heavier than a robin." ber the time when he could not read. The An old schoolmate of his told me, that the travellers who stopped at his father's mill was owned, in shares, by several of tavern, used to call on little Dan to read the neighbors, who used it in turn. Boys a psalm, when he was too young to be of were put into the mill to tend it, when any service to his parents; and they lisit required the weight of two of them to tened, with delight, to the elocution of the turn back the “rag-wheel,” and bring the young orator. These psalms he loved to log-carriage to its place, to commence a repeat till the day of his death. He loved

to sing them, to the tune of Old Hundred, debates and orations, to supply the place as he wandered over his farm, and often of an absent member. More than fifty called John Taylor, at Franklin, to spend years ago, he explained to his room-mate an hour in singing Watts's psalms and the secret of his diffidence at Exeter. His hymns with him, before the fire “fair rustic manners and homespun dress called blazing” on the old hearth, after his guests forth the ridicule of some of his classhad retired. He once expressed his mates, who happened to have full purses readiness to attempt to repeat any stanza and empty heads. The sensibilities of of Watts if any one of the company young Daniel were wounded by their unwould repeat the first line. “Wherever kind criticism. He therefore withdrew you find Watts,” said he, “there you find from their plays and shrunk from a public true devotion.” At twelve years of age,

exhibition of himself upon the stage. He he could repeat "Pope's Essay on Man was precisely in the condition of the perfrom memory. Being once asked why he son (supposed to be the poet Virgil) allearned this philosophic poem by heart at luded to by the Roman satirist :that age, he replied, “I had nothing else

“ Your friend is testy and provokes to learn." A book was a "rara avis in

The humors of some waggish folks ; terris;" even a new almanac was a trea

And fops may langh;- for why?

His shoes are loose, his coat awry. sure to him. A dispute once arose be

Yet Maro has a generous soul, tween him and Ezekiel, after going to bed,

No man a better on the whole : about some passage in the new Almanac

With wit how bright and heart how warm,

Beneath a rude un polished form." of the year. They rose and kindled a light to decide the dispute; in their eager His situation was unpleasant to him, and ness to read the record they forgot their he became discontented and resolved to lighted tinder, and thus set the house on leave the school at the close of the first fire. The few books which his father term. His usher noticed his depression of owned, were faithfully conned; still his spirits, and, by a private interview, restored attainments were very limited when he his self-confidence, and taught him to entered the academy at Exeter. His man despise the taunts of young men who ners were unpolished, his dress unfashion cared more for sport than for books. He able, and his whole appearance and de was assured of his ability not only to lead portment betokened rustic simplicity and his class, but to leave those railers so far honesty. His mind was his only treasure; behind him, that they should never see this did not, at first sight, appear to plead in him again." These," said Mr. Webster, his behalf. His new associates had enjoyed “ were the first truly encouraging words superior advantages; they judged of the I ever received with reference to my standing of their classmates by their studies." dress, rather than by their intellect. They, undoubtedly, influenced his whole James H. Bingham, Esq., of Washington, subsequent life. Judicious commendation D. C., in a recent letter to me, thus speaks is always the best reward of successful of Mr. Webster at that period : “Our first study. Daniel Webster remained nine acquaintance was at the academy at Ex months at Exeter, devoting most of his eter, in 1796. I went there in July of time to English branches. Latin was a that year, and found him there. He was subordinate study. He had learned the then about fourteen; was attending to paradigms in the Latin grammar, before English Grammar, Arithmetic, etc.; al entering the academy. This he did, by ways very prompt and correct in his way of occupation, while he sat in the recitations. He had an independent man office of Thomas W. Thompson, Esq., to ner, rather careless in his dress and ap inform his clients where he could be pearance, with an intelligent look; did not found, when absent from his usual place join much in the plays and amusements of of business. The means of Judge Webthe boys of his age, but paid close atten ster were limited, and his expenditures for tion to his studies.” Speaking of his the support of a large family compelled residence at Exeter, Mr. Webster said: him to practise the most rigid economy. “I believe that I made tolerable progress Those who knew him well say that his in most branches that I attended to in this whole estate was never valued above two school; but there was one thing which I thousand dollars. To diminish the excould not do—I could not speak before pense of his son's education, he placed the school.” This fact, unexplained, is a him under the care of Rev. Samuel Wood, perfect enigma in his history. We know of Boscawen, who received one dollar a that, within one year from this time, he week for board and tuition. Here he rewas ready and willing to engage in public mained six months, giving his whole time declamation in college ; that he very soon to the Latin and Greek languages. He manifested a fondness for extemporaneous was exceedingly fond of Virgil, and read speaking, and often volunteered, in society the entire Æneid long before he was called

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