Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-06-17
SEAMAN'S FAITH.

Many, many years ago, on the coast
of the Baltic sea, where the beautiful
wooded mountains of the resort Zoppot
raise their heads, there lived a heather
fisher named Trasil1o. Wild and rude as
the sea which, autumn and spring,
broke in storm lashed fury Oh the dunes,
was the old man; weather hardened
were his soul and hand; defiant and in
exorable as the cliffs, his character; no
man had ever heard good word from
his mouth. His hut was built high on
the sand, forlorn and frail, plaything
for the tempest that roared around it
and coveted prey Of the waves that
struggled up higher toward it every
year and eagerly tore away piece after
piece of the narrow dune that was the
foot and support of the hill. Yes, the
sea was like cunning and faithless
woman who stretched out her white
arms threateningly and coaxingly to
the fisher; who full of enticing favor
threw the rich treasures of shipwrecked
vessels into his lap, and then, with i'm
patient haste, strove to draw him and
all his precious belongings down to her
in the cool, death still, crystal palace.
Trasiko knew the mighty deities who
often raised their snow crowned heads
above the water angry or smiling,
wreathed with rushes in the sunshine
or driving furiously in their shell form
ed chariots over the waves at night,
amid thunder and lightning. He made
sacrifices to them when he needed their
help and reviled them when they re-
fused it.
The old man had stored up great
wealth in his cabin during the long
years, but the loveliest pearl that ever
mans eyes looked upon did not lie with
these treasures of the dead, but stood
like an angel of light, living and bios
soming Oh the hill, gazing with long
ing blue eyes out upon the sea as if
she were sure of seeing sail loom up
at last upon the horizon with "Deliv-
GRANGE" as skipper and Happiness as
cargo. Swanada was the fishers golden
haired daughter, the most beautiful
flower that had ever sprung from this
stern cliff land, the valued goal toward
which the youths of the coast and of
the neighboring islands made their way
through wind and waves.
But Trasiko kept his hard hand on
the lovely flower and inspected the suit
ors with his cunning, greedy eyes.
There was none rich enough to pur-
chase such a wonder plant.
Swanada took it with Indifference.
Her face showed an occasional feeting
shadow, but in her heart all remained
peaceful and cool. She waited for him
whom she had seen in dreams, earnest
and convincing, gentle and proud at
once. A dark cloak hung from his shout
ders. Where his boat tossed the sea
sparkled and the clouds of heaven
changed to gold and floated in the shape
of cross above the strangers head.
Hi! How the tempest shrieks, how the
sea thunders against the shorel
Trasiko leans his bearded chin on
both hands and curses the gods. He
knows how the bare teeth of the sea
cut into the coast. Then he hurries
down eagerly. It seems to him that ne
sees by the glare of the lightning
small boat battling with the waves.
When he returns, his face is sterner
than usual and his back is bent with an
unaccustomed burden. He dragsa youth
with him-he knows not if it is god Or
man. Precaution urged him to the res
Que that he might not risk running him
self completely with the all powerful
spirits.
Swanada lifts tho firebrand, and as
she looks Oh the strangers face it seems
to her that warm sunbeam has sud
denly fallen into her heart 1t becomes
bright in the cottage, as if it were bath
ed in flaming purple light. 1t comes
from the little cross that CLOVIS on the
seaman's breast.
And when the sun shone again in the
heavens the young Christlieb looked
into the blue eyes Of the heather fisher
maid; two hearts were exchanged, a
troth was plighted for time and eterni-
ty and sworn to upon the cross The
foreign seaman went boldly to Trasiko
and asked him for the hand Of his
daughter He was poor, he said He
came from far beyond the sea to find
amber OH the Baltic coast
Then came a shTill, evil laugh from
the old mans Inns.
''Go your way home again, he cried
scornfully. II have never met one who
could dig up gold with his finger nails.
He who would marry my daughter
must do something more than hunt for
scraps Of yellow resin.
And what shall do, Father Trasi-
40? No work is too hard that is done
for my love and God. Christ and all
the saints will help me. /"
Sharp us dagger's point were the
Gsher's eyes, His glance swept over the
shore, from which the tide had again
torn a large piece. After minute the
sand dune slid down after it, and Ira
siko's hut sank nearer to the sea. It
was an unpleasant thought for the old
man that be must set to work and build
himself a new nest He laughed def.
antly: