Natalie | Page 8

dawn by the sailor's merry "yo, ho," coming up
from the waters with the sun, you turn your eyes seaward, and what a
glorious sight is before you! As far as the eye can reach, water, blue,
rolling water, tinged with rising sunlight in its morning purity; the
night-bird folds her wings, which she has laved in the white sea-foam,
softening the sigh of the breakers to the ear of those who slumbered;
the white sails bow their heads, while the old tars wonder what makes
them so happy. With these pleasant sunrise impressions you go forth
into the day with more lenient views towards the "land of whales,"
sniffing the salt air with a real gusto.
Glancing up the street, you descry an object in the distance which much
resembles a travelling dry-goods merchant, with the many fancy
streamers flying in the breeze; but as it draws nearer, you look around
in astonishment for "Barnum," fully persuaded if that worthy is not on
the ground, he has mistaken his calling for once. The object in question

is no less than a common two-wheeled horse-cart, such as are used to
do our heavy carting, except this is on springs, and of a lighter build; in
the vehicle are some half dozen ladies, standing, their only support
being short ropes attached to the sides, which, however, are seldom
used, except by those unaccustomed to this kind of exercise, and in this
position they ride with the greatest ease, seldom losing their balance,
even when going at full speed.
Thoroughly initiated, and having seen most of the lions of the place,
you find yourself becoming more and more attached, forget that you
have ever thought of the island as anything but attractive. Your one
week has become the length of four, and the letters to anxious friends at
home have been characteristic of briefness, unwilling to steal a
moment's time from the enjoyment which will furnish a topic for the
unemployed hours of longer days to come. Of the many excursions
which have made short the hours of your sojourn here, I will not enter
into detail; suffice it to say, you have been disappointed in Nantucket
and its inhabitants. You have made many firm friends, the memory of
whom will stir the tear of unselfish love, as you number them over, one
by one, in the future. They will never be forgotten. You have found
Nantucket is not merely an isolated place, where oil is manufactured;
where the people only work to eat, and eat to work. [Though as some
have suggested, a carriage drive connecting Nantucket with the
Continent would be a great modern improvement]. As one has quaintly
expressed, in a little poem entitled "An Old Story:"
"Before Columbus ever thought Of Western World, with glory fraught;
Before the Northmen had been known To wander from their native
zone; Before war raised a single mound, The antiquarians to confound;
Indeed, so very long ago, The time one can't exactly know,-- A giant
Sachem, good as great, Reigned in and over our Bay State. So huge
was he, his realm so small, He could not exercise at all, Except by
taking to the sea. [For which he had a ticket free, Granted by Neptune,
with the seal, A salient clam, and couchant eel]. His pipe was many a
mile in length, His lungs proportionable in strength; And his rich
moccasins,--with the pair, The seven-league boots would not compare.
Whene'er siestas he would take, Cape Cod must help his couch to make;

And, being lowly, it was meet He should prefer it for his feet. Well, one
day, after quite a doze, A month or two in length, suppose, He waked,
and, as he'd often done, Strolled forth to see the mid-day sun; But while
unconsciously he slept, The sand within his moccasins crept; At every
step some pain he'd feel, 'Twas now the toe, now near the heel; At
length his Sachemship grew cross, The pebbles to the sea he'd toss,
And with a moccasin in each hand, He threw on either side the sand;
Then in an instant there appear Two little isles, the Sachem near! One
as the Vineyard now is known, The other we may call our own. At ease,
he freely breathed awhile, Which sent the fogs to bless our isle; And
turning East, with quickened motion, The chill, bleak winds came o'er
the ocean.
Ill-judging Sachem! would that you Had never shaken here that shoe.
Or, having done so, would again, And join Nantucket to the main!"
Having had a peep within the nest, you sigh for the return of the bird,
and we will on.
CHAPTER III.
THE VOICE OF CHILDHOOD.
"Ah! Well may sages bow to thee, Dear, loving, guileless Infancy! And
sigh beside their