Year: 1860

Familiar objects met our gaze,


The Captains board was spread,


And seats were ranged around for those


Whose fate was wrapped in dread


And on the wall watch was hung,


That clicked with cheerful sound,


Contrasting with the silent gloom


Of everything around


The ship was laden heavily


With spices and with gold


And not hand had stirred the piles


OF treasure in the hold; III.


There was no trace of piracy,


OF struggle or dismay


The arms hung round the cabin walls
In long and bright array.


1t is q fearful mystery,


That lies unfathomed yet,


There never came word or sign


From those we still regret


dare not muse upon their fate,


Its horror, its despair,


But all among the gazers knew


No mortal hand was there


1t was more than sixty years after the
event had taken place which have
described above, chat the ship Soldan, of
New York, Captain Henry Robson, on a
passage from St. Petersburg, struck upon
the Falsterbo shoals in the Baltic, and
sustained so much damage that the ship
was taken into the snug little port of
Ystad, and there hove out and repaired.
The Soldan was detained for several weeks
in the town of Ystad, which is pleasantly
situated on the Swedish coast, overlooking
the Baltic Sea.


While in conversation one day with
some Swedish gentlemen Captain Robson
curiosity was excited by an accidental
allusion to an eccentric old man who had
resided in the neighborhood Of the town
for great many years, had been sailor
in his youth, and was supposed to be a
native of America. AS some mystery
was believed to be connected with his
voluntary exile from his home, the worthy
captain resolved to visit him, and make
an attempt to solve the mystery, if any
existed. 1t is but fair to state that he
was also influenced by better motive-a
desire to see and if necessary serve q
countryman, aged, perhaps unfriended, q
resident in foreign land


Capt. Robson found him living in q
humble hut, alone. A small piece ofland
was attached to his residence, which he
cultivated by the labor of his hands HI
was quite old, at least four score, his head
was thinly covered with white hair, and
his beard was long and also white as tht
driven snow, which gave him the venerable
appearance Of holy anchorite. His fig
ure was slight, but he stood erect, and
moved about as if there was vigor in hi
limbs, and the fash of his keen gray eye
showed that his intellect was not impaired
Capt Robson intruded himself to hin
as the master of the American ship il
port, and found the old man quite willing
to enter into conversation. He acknowl
edged that he was an American, but hac
been for many years q stranger to hi
native land. He asked many questions
relating to the United States, and seemed
much gratifed at the information he re
ceived. Capt. Robson inquired why ht
left his home abandoned his early occu
patton as a sailor, and sought out thi'
obscure corner in a foreign country, t.
lead solitary and monoteus life.


The hoary,headed sage said in reply
that he had never communicated to morta
man the circumstances which led him, t.
desert his home, his friends and his coun
try, and flee to distant soil, there to drol
anchor and moor for life. But as hi
sands we're fast running out, he had wished
for an opportunity to relate the circum
stances attending the last voyage he hat
made in an American vessel, which wer,
of nature to cast q dark cloud over hi
soul, and embitter his whole life, which h,
would gladly have laid down many year.
before, if God had SO willed it, as an ex
lpiation Of his misdeeds.