This of course made the youth a welcome guest, and gained him
friends in whatever condition of life he might be placed.
The traveler observed that he was a well-built figure, which showed
strength and grace in every movement. He accordingly addressed
him in quite a gentlemanly manner, and inquired of him the way
to the village. After he had received the desired information,
and was about taking his leave, the youth said, “Are you not
Major Elfonzo, the great musician–the champion of a noble cause–
the modern Achilles, who gained so many victories in the Florida War?”
“I bear that name,” said the Major, “and those titles,
trusting at the same time that the ministers of grace will carry
me triumphantly through all my laudable undertakings, and if,”
continued the Major, “you, sir, are the patronizer of noble deeds,
I should like to make you my confidant and learn your address.”
The youth looked somewhat amazed, bowed low, mused for a moment,
and began: “My name is Roswell. I have been recently admitted
to the bar, and can only give a faint outline of my future success
in that honorable profession; but I trust, sir, like the Eagle,
I shall look down from lofty rocks upon the dwellings of man, and shall
ever be ready to give you any assistance in my official capacity,
and whatever this muscular arm of mine can do, whenever it shall be
called from its buried GREATNESS.” The Major grasped him by the hand,
and exclaimed: “O! thou exalted spirit of inspiration–thou flame
of burning prosperity, may the Heaven-directed blaze be the glare
of thy soul, and battle down every rampart that seems to impede
your progress!”
The road which led to the town presented many attractions.
Elfonzo had bid farewell to the youth of deep feeling, and was
not wending his way to the dreaming spot of his fondness.
The south winds whistled through the woods, as the waters dashed
against the banks, as rapid fire in the pent furnace roars.
This brought him to remember while alone, that he quietly left behind
the hospitality of a father’s house, and gladly entered the world,
with higher hopes than are often realized. But as he journeyed onward,
he was mindful of the advice of his father, who had often looked
sadly on the ground when tears of cruelly deceived hope moistened
his eye. Elfonzo had been somewhat of a dutiful son; yet fond
of the amusements of life–had been in distant lands–had enjoyed
the pleasure of the world and had frequently returned to the scenes
of his boyhood, almost destitute of many of the comforts of life.
In this condition, he would frequently say to his father, “Have I
offended you, that you look upon me as a stranger, and frown upon
me with stinging looks? Will you not favor me with the sound of
your voice? If I have trampled upon your veneration, or have spread
a humid veil of darkness around your expectations, send me back into
the world where no heart beats for me–where the foot of man has
never yet trod; but give me at least one kind word–allow me to come
into the presence sometimes of thy winter-worn locks.” “Forbid it,
Heaven, that I should be angry with thee,” answered the father,
“my son, and yet I send thee back to the children of the world–
to the cold charity of the combat, and to a land of victory. I read
another destiny in thy countenance–I learn thy inclinations from
the flame that has already kindled in my soul a stranger sensation.
It will seek thee, my dear ELFONZO, it will find thee–thou canst
not escape that lighted torch, which shall blot out from the
remembrance of men a long train of prophecies which they have
foretold against thee. I once thought not so. Once, I was blind;
but now the path of life is plain before me, and my sight is clear;
yet Elfonzo, return to thy worldly occupation–take again in thy
hand that chord of sweet sounds–struggle with the civilized world,
and with your own heart; fly swiftly to the enchanted ground–
let the night-OWL send forth its screams from the stubborn oak–