The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1847-11-27
The Tempest.
by GEORGE p. PRENTICE.

was never man of feeble courage.
There are few scenes either Of human or
elemental strife, upon which l have not
looked with a brow Of daring. [ have
stood in the front Of the battle, when
swords were cleaning and clrcling a.
round me like fiery serpcnts OF the all
! have set on the mountain pinnacle,
when the wnirIwind was rcnding it, oaks
from their rocky cliffs and scattering them
rjecc-mcal to the cloud>--I have seen
these things with a swelling soul, that
knew not, that reci<cI not dangcr-5ut
there is something in III" thunder'S voice
that make me trem3le like child. |
have tricd 10 overcome this unmanly
wcakness-I have called pride to my aid
| have sought for moral courage in the
lesson Of phiIosophy-bUt it ayails ire
no.hinr-at ,hn first low moaning of the
distant cloud, my heart shrinks, quiyers,
gaaps, and dies within me.
My involuntary dread Of thunder had
Its ORIGIN in an incident, that occurred
when ! was a boy of ten years. had q
little cousin---a girl OF the same age with
myself, who had been the constant com
plnion Of my childhood. Strange, that
after the lapse Of 50 many years, that
countcnancc should be 50 familiar to me.
can see the bright young creature
her large eyes flashing like beautiful
gem, her free locks streaming as in joy
upon the rising gale, and her check glow
ing, like a ruby, through 4 wreath Of
transparent snow. Her voice had the
melody and joyousness of a birds and
when she bounded over the wooded hill
or the fresh green valley, shouting a glad
answer to every voice of nature, and
clasping her little hands in the very ccs-
tacy Of young existence, she looked as if
breaking away like freed nightingale
from the earth, and going off where all
things are beautiful and happy like her.
1t was morning in the middle Of Au-
gust. The little girl had been passing
some days at my fathers house, and she
was now to return home. Her path lay
across the fields, and I gladly became the
companion of her walk. | never knew
a summer morning more beautiful and
still. Only one little cloud was visible,
and that seemed as pure, and white, and
peaceful, as if it had been the incense
smoke offs some burning censor OF the skies.
The leaves hung silent in the woods, the
waters IN the bay had forgotten their UNI
the flowers were bending their
heads as if dreaming of the rainbow and
dew, and the whole atmosphere was OF
such soft and luxurious sweetness, that
it seemed cloud otroscS, scattered down
by the hands of Peri, from the far off
gardens o Paradise. The Green earth
and the blue sea lay abroad in their
boundlcssncss, and the peaceful sky bent
over and blessed them. The little crea-
mr. at my side was in delirium Of hap
pness, and her clear, sweet voice came
ringing upon the air as often as she heard
the tones Of tavorite bird, or found some
strange or lovely flower in her lrolic
wandcrings. The unbroken and almost
supernatural tranquility Of the day con-
tinued until nearly noon. Then for the
first time the indications of an approach
ING tempest were manifest. Over the
summit of a mountain at the distance of
about mile, the folds Of a dark cloud
became suddenly visible, and at the same
instant, hollow roar came down upon
the winds, as it had been the sound of
waves in a rocky cavern. The cloud
rolled out like banner-fold upon the
air, but still the atmosphere was as calm
and the leaves as motionless as before,
and there was not even culver upon
the sleeping waters to tell ofthc coming
hurricane.
To escape the tempest was impossible:
AS the only resort, we fled to an oak,
that stood at the foot ola tall and rugged
prccipice. Here we remained and Saz-