See, how he stands, invulnerable in his despair, the strong masts quivering like wands in the furious tempest, the yards naked, and not a rag of sail that would stand before it for an instant; the decks swept by the sea at every moment, and nothing looked for now, by the staunchest seaman on board, but utter and speedy destruction. “The ship cannot stand this much longer,” whispers the captain to his chief mate; “she’ll founder in an hour, or become water-logged, which would be as bad, or worse, at this season and in this latitude. Stand by for whatever may happen.” And yet, all this time, there is not an eye in that strained and struggling ship but Halbert’s, that does not shrink from looking upon the boiling sea; there is not a heart but his, however hardened or obdurate it be, which does not breathe some inward prayer, though it be but some half-forgotten infant’s rhyme. But Halbert Melville stands alone, uncompanioned, and uncomplaining in his secret grief; no blessed tear of sorrow hangs on the dark lash of his fevered eye; no syllable of supplication severs his parched lips; the liberal heavens, which drop grace upon all, are shut, in his agonised belief, to him alone. He cannot weep; he dare not pray. [Illustration: text decoration] CHRISTIAN MELVILLE. EPOCH III. There’s joy and mourning wondrously entwined In all that’s mortal: sometimes the same breeze That bringeth rest into one weary mind Heralds another’s sorer agonies; Sometimes the hour that sees one battle end Beholds as sad a time of strife begin; And sometimes, hearts rejoicing as they win Themselves the victory, tremble for a friend. Ah me! how vain to think that mortal ken Can ever, with love-cleared vision, judge aright. Doth danger dwell alone ’mong stranger men, Or safety aye ’neath home’s protecting light? Shield us, our Father! in our every lot Thou blendest joy and grief that we forget thee not. [Illustration: text decoration] CHAPTER I. Then followed that beautiful season, Called by the pious Acadian peasants the summer of All Saints! Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood. Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of the ocean Was for a moment consoled.--LONGFELLOW’S _Evangeline_.