The true Democrat., 1854-11-01
From the Arkansas Magazine THE CAPTIVE MERCHANT. TRADITIONARY HISTORY FROM THE RECORDS OF MEMORY.
BY P. l.. ANTHONY

BY P. L. ANTHONY.
 In the early part of the 18th century, there liv- ed amerchant at Marseilles, who derived both his name and lineage from the Greek. It will be recollected that Marseiles was Greek colony and was renowned for commerce, refinement and literature, long before Rome had acquired any notorety; so, also, in the middle ages, it was one of the first western cities, to rise above the barba rism that had overspread Europe
 At the period of our story, the marts of the Levant were resorted to by the western mer- chants, as the emporium of the elegant fabrics and the costly spices of the east; and it was customary for every merchant to go as his own supercargo. It was however a dangerous vov- age, and one to be looked to with just appre- henslon and dread. The fearful Barbarossa, SO called from the color of his beard long infested the Levant, and the adjacent seas with his Plracies; and making frequent, and unexpected descents upon the fruitful shores of Barbary (the ancient Mauritania he and his rude fol. lowers brought it into subection. and converted to their unholy design, all its ports upon the Me- diterranean.
 The season at length arrived. when our mer- chant according to custom, must go to the east for his stock of goods; but he goes with more than usual reluctance. When last he sailed, it was hls lot to leave young and beautiful wife, whom he had but lately married, and whom he tenderly loved. Now, another tie bound him to the home of his fathers, lovely boy. but Tn hls eleventh month, upon whom the de- voted parents lavished all their caresses For some time, he had, had premonitions of danger, from the accounts that were almost daily re- celved of the activity of the Corsairs but he durst not trust his fears to his wife for she too was troubled with forebodngs, to which she gave frequent utterance. Her husband en- deavors, Tn vain, to quiet her apprehensions: and though cloud rests upon his brow, when at his business, he always puts on cheerful smile, With which to greet the Responding wife As, however, the day approaches, his fears aug ment; but his brave heart quails not at the dan ger. He deliberately makes his will, and de- postsit, for safe keeping, with the father of his wife, as the natural guardian to whom she must look, in the event of any mishap befalling him.
 The appointed day and hour arrives The sun has risen in all its splendor in a coudless ]. sky, and seems to foretoken prosperous voy- age. His stout vessel, provided with full equipment of ordnance and small arms lies hawsered to the quay, and flaps it's long pend- ant in the breeze. His friends are all assembled at the waters edge to bid him adieu, and to express their kind wishes for a safe voyage, and a speedy return, when the fearless Merchant is seen hastening to the shore. Melanie, his ten der wife, leans upon his arm. Her heart is full, and an occasional tear steals down her cheek. The nurse walks behind with the infant in her arms. The sailors are all busy, preparing for their departure, and in few moments the master is heard to cry out "All ready"
 'Tis doleful cry to Melanie. She can no longer restrain her grief, and tears course down her cheeks as the frequent drops of big rain.- The husband is not unmoved, but words are of no avail. He makes his parting injunction to his father-in-law, and his brothers and bidding adeu to his friends, clasps his wife in his arms, and strains her to his bosom.
 "Ah, Melanie, my love, my sweet wife, why give way to this unwomanly grief? We have parted before, we may have yet to part often in time to come Hope my love, hope for the best, and leave the future to the disposal of Heaven. Come what may, leave you not friendless and unprovided in the world"
 But, my husband, if loose you, what have I left? Of what value were wealth? or where shall find a friend like you?''
 "Your father, my love, your mother, your brothers, your sisters, yourkindred and friends"
 But all cannot restore me my husband, once lost.'
 "But your husband is not lost and you may confidently look for his return"
 The wife could not reply; her heart was too full. They kissed their adieus, and tore them selves asunder. Taking her child then from the nurse, she laid it upon the bosom of her husband. FondIy kissing the babe he returned it to the nurse, and ascending the gangway of the ship, with firm step, waved his hand to his friends in token of departure. The salu- tation was warmly returned from the shore, I ;Y n fau, tbo vo,col 1oc before the wind, over the waves of the harbor.
 The friends remained upon the shore till the noble ship had cleared the outer per and then dispersed to their several homes. Melanie, taking the arm of her father, returns to her lonely mansion, and ascending the battlement, gazes through her tears as long as the white sail is seen in the distance; then retreating to her chamber, filings herself upon her couch, and resigns herself to almost hopeless despair.
 The wind is fair and the vessel bounds like an ocean-bird over the blue waves Monte Rotundo, and Monte d'Oro lift their snow crowned turrets in Corsica, serving as distant land d-marks; and Sardinia spreads out her fruit | ful shores In the distance, far to the left, Ve- suvius is seen to wave his smoky plume in the breeze Now flashing by the Lipar isles, they double the western cape of Sicily, and coast ing along its southern shore, the mighty fur mace of Cyclops is seen at work, heaving up dense mass of smoke, as though the sooty smith had double task of thunder-bolts to forge. Matanow lies like speck upon thesea
 "Sail ahead" is heard from the watch aloft; but they have seen and hailed many in this fre- quented sea. The ships bear down toward each other, and every eye is strained to deter mine the character of the stranger. 'Tis Cor sair-the blood-red flag streams at its mast head. It is, moreover, vessel of the lar gest class, and fully manned
 As soon as the Corsair had approached near enough to determine upon the attack, the black flag is run up, as signal that no quarter is to be expected. The crews of both vessels have been busily engaged in arming for the contest, and victory or death is resolved in every heart. Now the heavy culverns send forth their thun- der, and the deck of either vessel is deluged in blood. Again and again. the welkin rings with peal upon peal, as the vessels dash madly against each other. The bowsprit of the Cor