THE WHITE CROSS. A BRAZILIAN STORY. BY LIEUT. COXE, U. s. ARMY. The course of true love never did run smooth. In all the bay and harbor of Rio de Janeiro, so often described by travellers as one of the most capacious, and certainly the most beautiful in the world, no portion is so beautiful or possesses so much of the romantic and picturesque as Botafogo Bay, one of the many parts which unite to constitute the beauteous whole first mentioned. Brazil, justly styled the garden of the world, has no spot equally fair with this, and while wandering midst its verdant fields and in the depths of its forests, where "nor dint of hoof nor print of foot Lay in the wild luxurious soil;" a traveller might well imagine he had at last reached the spot so long sought after, where our first father saw and wooed the fairest, first of women, Eve. To return, however, to the Bay of Rio, completely shut in on three sides by lofty hills and mountains covered with perpetual verdure, high among which the towering corcovado rears its head, like a blasted pine in a grove of beauty; groves of orange trees, filled with the "golden apple" scattered in every direction by the tasteful and profuse hand of nature, give a rich beauty and softness to the scene, while in bold relief are seen the massy Gavia and the well known sugar-loaf, nature's handmarks, to guide the weary mariner to the "haven where he would be:" all that is wanting to complete the picture is the massy fort of Santa Cruz, "bristling horribly" with "those mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit," and presenting an impassable barrier to the entrance of the harbor, at the mouth of which it is situated. The shores of Botafogo Bay are lined with villas of surpassing beauty and neatness of architecture; among which stands pre-eminent that of the late beautiful Countess of Santos, a monument at once of the frailty of its fair occupant and the munificence of her imperial lover, Pedro the First. I have been thus particular in the description, or rather in this poor attempt at description, of this lovely spot, from its being the scene of the events I am about to narrate; and as the facts upon which this "ower true tale" are founded, did actually occur. I might in compliance with the long observed rule of scribbling, premise," that the actors in the drama, or some of them, being still alive, delicacy forbids me to disclose their names, etc." Such, I believe, is admitted to be a privilege of long standing, and I might be disposed to avail myself of it, but for the simple reason, that I do not know the real names of any one mentioned in my story, although I once heard them; nor do I know whether they are alive or dead, but I think I hear my fair reader exclaim, (while more than half inclined to throw away this nonsense,) the story, sir, the story; thus, then it is: In the year 18-; but before I proceed any farther, I ought to tell you how I became acquainted with the facts I relate, and begging the pardon of any one, whose patience has accompanied me thus far, for drawing a little more upon their stock thereof, I will, in as brief a way as possible, state the the how, when, and where. It was on an evening of surpassing loveliness, such as is no where seen but in the tropics, that after having spent a day of solitude in my hammock, trying by inactivity and passiveness to escape the heat, as the thermometer had been playfully ranging from 90° to 100° in the shade, with no society but my Byron, my own thoughts, (poor company, I think I see you preparing to remark, so that I will save you the trouble by confessing it myself,) and though last, by no means least, a choice "Havana," the which I can confidently recommend to every one, as the greatest of luxuries in a warm climate, where was I, oh! I had just got out of my hammock, (another luxury,) and detertermined to enjoy to the utmost the coolness of the evening. I entered my canoe, and with my only attendant, (cook, valet, and chambermaid, “trio juncta in uno" as Sheridan said,) paddled down the harbor from my cottage on the Island of Cobras, until we arrived at the mouth of Botafogo Bay, which we entered; whilst paddling round the bay and resigning myself to the control of spirit engendered by the fairy like appearance of the scene, I observed a white cross painted upon the rocks, which near the entrance of the bay, reach to the water's edge. Having never before noticed it, I was considerably astonished at the sight, as these crosses are usually the "memento mori's" of some murder that has been committed on the spot where they are erected, and I could not believe that the hand of the assassin would have invaded a sanctuary like this. On inquiry, I gained from my companion, a venerable Brazilian, the following particulars, which I give you rendered into English, and stripped of numerous digressions on his part, during the narration, which would most certainly not interest you, any more than I fear mine have. In the year 18, the Martini palace which was located a short distance from Botafogo bay, in the direction of the city of Rio de Janeiro, was not more celebrated for its grandeur and magnificence, than for its owner, the Marquis Juan de Martini ;-cold, haughty, and reserved in his manners, he was liked by no one; secluded almost altogether from the world, he appeared to feel no interest in any one around him, and but for one circumstance, the fact of his existence even would have been forgotten, so rarely did he appear in public. Like Jeptha, he had one fair daughter, and her he did indeed love passing well. Isabel de Martini had long been celebrated as the fairest of the fair, in the imperial city of St. Sebastian; her dark eye beaming with intelligence, was surmounted by a brow of perfect symmetry, and her raven locks playing loosely about her sculptured neck, gave her an almost elf-like appearance. Beauty cannot be described, and any description would fall short of what Isabel really was; let every one draw from his imagination for her image, for she was lovely as imagination can conceive; would that I could do so, but although a worshipper of the fair daughters of Eve, almost to idolatry, I never yet could transfer their charms to paper: suffice it then to say, that among all the dark eyed beauties of this sunny land, who stand unrivalled both for form, and face, Isabel de Martini shone preeminent. Many were the admirers, and among them many of the proudest nobles of Brazil, who had sued for the honor of her hand, and all in vain; to all she turned an inattentive ear, and if the truth must be told, the fair Isabel was just the least in the world of a coquette, and however much her vanity might be flattered by seeing her train of admirers swelling with the noble and the rich, she passed along unmoved by any, "fancy free." Pass over a year in the life of our heroine, and go with me to the shores of the bay I have described to you; the moon was shining with its silvery light upon the still waters of the bay, which clearly as a mirror, reflected all around it, yet no object was reflected half so fair as the forms of Isabel and a young man, who, with his arm around her, was gazing on his companion with an expression of the deepest affection. Long they walked, and if we do not give you the subject of their conversation, it is for the two-fold reason, that being lovers, it was necessarily of a character uninteresting to a third person, and moreover, I did not hear a word of it; time flew, but still they strolled along the tranquil margin of the bay, and it was the lady who first observed the lateness of the hour, and spoke of returning. "Do not detain me longer," she said, " indeed, indeed, Fernando, I must leave you; my absence will be remarked, and though for myself I care not, still your safety as much as my own, demands that we should be prudent; indeed we must separate, but 'tis only till to-morrow." "Dearest Isabel,” replied her lover," how can I ever sufficiently repay you? you, the admired of all, the loveliest of your sex, thus to brave all for me-and must we part? would that the time were come, when we will fly together far from this hated place, and secure from all pursuit, live only for each other." "Once more, then," said Isabel, "good night; for my sake, be careful of yourself, and remember that my existence is dependant upon yours. God bless you, good night." The youth folded her in his arms, and hastily impressed a kiss upon her brow, which was of a marble paleness, and then releasing her, the maiden disappeared among the rocks; he gazed after her for a few moments, then casting off the fastening of a canoe, which lay concealed in a small cove boneath, he sprang into it, and rapidly plying his paddle, in a very brief space he reached the opposite shore, and disappeared. As the scene just described may appear a little strange to those whose patience has carried them thus far, it will be proper to state the particulars of the acquaintance which had arisen between our heroine, and the evident object of her choice. At a public ball given by the Emperor, to which not only the nobility, but all the respectable inhabitants of Rio were admitted, the fair Isabel was as usual the cynosure of all admiring glances; and while to all their flattering speeches she turned an inattentive ear, she was much struck with the appearance of a young stranger, who although not belonging to her own rank in life, was evident ly one of "nature's noblemen,” and she secretly acknowledged to herself that had any of her previous admirers but resembled him, her heart had not been so difficult to subdue;-never had she experienced such sensations as those which now possessed her, and she was pleased, although unable to define the cause, to observe that he was evidently gazing upon her with an eye of sincere admiration. He was the son of a captain in the Imperial Army, who had fallen in the service of his country, and had left his son wholly dependant upon his own exertions for support. Long had he gazed with admiration amounting to idolatry, upon the lovely Isabel, whom he had often seen in public; never before, however, had he been thrown so directly into the society of one, whom, he felt, to see was to love; and now that he could at leisure gaze upon those charms, he resigned himself to the control of his passion, and with a thrill of transport, observed that his admiration was noticed, and was evidently not disagreeable to its object. The last person noticed by Isabel, on leaving the ball, was the stranger, whose eyes were still intently fixed upon her, and if a responsive glance from her met his eye, who shall blame her? In this country, where intrigue is the chief business of life, but little difficulty occurred in his conveying to his " lady love" the intelligence that he lived but for her; and it would be tedious to narrate the manner in which he obtained his first interview with her. The greatest difficulty which arose was respecting the place of meeting, until chance disclosed to them a path leading through the mountains from the Martini palace to the bay; there in the face of heaven, alone, the lovers met in the still hour of midnight, and with the resplendent moon, and all the heavenly “isles of light" alone for witnesses, told their love, and spoke of future happiness. Much difficulty attended their meetings, as it was necessary for Isabel to await the retiring of all the family, before she could leave her chamber, which she was enabled to do by means of a private door, communicating with the garden. Anxiously would she remain in the solitude of her apartment, until the entire cessation of noise within the house, bade her fly to her appointment; then in her lover's arms, with no thought for aught on earth save him, in whom were centred all the resistless feelings of her heart, would she be for a time completely happy; as few will deny, that the enjoyments (and especially those of this description,) of which we partake by stealth, are more intense than those which we possess sanctioned by all around us. Thus had they met in secret, for several months, and now only awaited the sailing of a vessel, whose captain (convinced of the propriety thereof, by the argument of a well filled purse) had consented to receive them on board, and carry them to some far distant land, where secure from opposition, and revenge, they might be happy in each other. But I am delaying the catastrophe too long, and will forthwith proceed to the dénouement. To enable Isabel to carry into effect her plans for meeting her lover, it had been necessary for her to make a confidante of a servant, whom she believed to be devotedly attached to her; avarice, however, reigned triumphant in her soul, and she betrayed the secret to her mistress' father, for a sum of money. His rage at learning the disgrace thus brought upon his house, for as such he considered it, cannot be described. I felt, but cannot paint his rage, He determined at once upon a terrible revenge; that he might be certain of the fact, he had followed Isabel on this, their last night of meeting, and unseen, had been a witness of the lover's interview; he could scarcely restrain himself from at once rushing upon, and destroying the devoted lover, but he did so, and returned to his palace with the fixed resolve, that this meeting should be their last. On the following night, he took measures to detain his daughter in conversation for an hour beyond the appointed time, and several of his servants were stationed at the place of meeting with orders to assassinate the unfortunate object of his wrath, on his arrival. At the appointed hour, Fernando hastened on the wings of love, to meet his mistress; another night of beauty seemed to hallow his intent: nature was at rest, and the bright moon shone coldly down, only to light him to his death; with a light heart he entered his canoe, crossed the bay, and arrived on the opposite shore; before he had time to notice and wonder at the absence of his mistress, the assassins' daggers were in his heart; he died with her name upon his lips, and leaving him where he fell, the murderers fled. The moment that Isabel could disengage herself from her father, she hurried to her room, and regardless of her former caution, flew to her appointment; her father watched, and at a distance followed her; she soon reached the spot, and oh! what a sight of horror met her eye! her lover, whom she last saw in all the radiant pride of beauty and of youth, now lay dead before her, pierced with many wounds, and covered with his blood; she threw herself frantically beside him, hoping that some spark of life might still be unextinguished. Such hopes, however, were in vain; and as the thought flashed upon her that she had been betrayed, she gave herself up entirely to the horror and anguish of the moment; it was but for an instant, however, for rising rapidly, she rushed with a frantic scream to the water's edge, and throwing herself into the depths beneath, which possessed no terrors for her, she sank to rise no more. Her father had followed her to enjoy the sight of the betrayer of his house, (as he supposed,) lying dead before her, and to upbraid his daughter with the dishonor she had brought upon him. He was too late, he arrived but in time to see her sink beneath the wave. The waters wild, went o'er his child And he was left lamenting. The cross I saw is the sole monument to the unfortunate lovers. Such is the story I listened to, and I only regret my inability to do it greater justice; such as it is, however, it is true, and many of the inhabitants still can tell of the surpassing beauty and tragic end of the fair and unfortunate Isabel de Martini. St. Augustine, East Florida, April 20th, 1839. EARTH AND OCEAN. A RHAPSODY. How beautiful, O mother earth! thy varied scenes to me: Abrupt, magnificently grand, their summits in the skies: Whether thou gleam'st with winter's sheen, or spring's gay smile dost wear, Though 'neath night's star-inwoven mantle wrapt in sacred gloom, And thou, O ocean! beautiful, most beautiful thou art, In all thy shifting forms, I see the wonder-working skill Of him who wakes thy wildest rage, or whispers" peace be still!" Thou mighty reservoir! vast cauldron ! ever pouring forth Into the spongy air thy mists to fertilize the earth; Like the heart's life-blood bubbling through each artery and vein, So sea-fed clouds descend, springs gush, and rivers feed the main. Ocean! I never gaze on thee but solemn musings fill My eyes with tears, my heart with an unutterable thrill. Thou two-fold emblem! of eternity thyself; thy waves Of time, which rising from thee, find within thyself their graves. LASH. THERE lies in the north of England a considerable tract of land, now known by the name of the Waste Lands, which once formed the richest property of two wealthy families by whom untoward circumstances had caused it to be deserted. For some time, it was looked after by stewards, too much bent upon profiting themselves to regard the interests of their employers. The tenantry, who, drained of their hard earnings, were obliged to vex the land till it became a bed of stones, dropped off one by one. The hedge-rows, being unremittingly assisted in the progress of decay by the paupers of the neighborhood, were soon reduced to nothing but dock-weeds and brambles; which gradually uniting from the opposite ends of the fields, the property became a huge thicket, too encumbered ever to be worth clearing, and only valuable to poachers and gypsies, to whom it still affords abundant booty and a secure hiding place. The two mansions have kept pace in ruin with the lands around them. The persons left in charge of them, being subject to no supervision, put themselves but little out of their way to preserve that which was so lightly regarded by the owners. Too careless to repair the dilapidations of time and the weather, they were driven, by broken windows and rickety doors, from office to office, and from parlor to parlor, till ruin fairly pursued them into the grand saloon; where the Turkey carpets were tattered by hob-nails, and the dogs of the chase licked their paws upon sofas of silk and satin. In due time, the rain forced its way through the roofs, and the occupiers having no orders to stop it with a tile, the breach became wider and wider. Soon the fine papering began to show discolored patches, and display the lath and plaster which bulged through it; then the nails which supported the family portraits gave way with their burthens; and finally, the rafters began to yield, and the inhabitants wisely vacated the premises in time to avoid the last crash, rightly conjecturing that it was useless to leave the moveables behind to share in the common destruction, when there was so little likelihood of their ever being inquired after. Thus ended the pride both of Heroncliff and Hazledell, which may still be seen, from each other, about a mile apart, shooting up a few parti-colored walls from their untrimmed wildernesses, and seeming, like two desperate combatants, to stand to the last extremity; neither of them cheered by a sign of life, excepting the jackdaws which sit perched upon the dead tips of the old ash trees, and the starlings that sweep around at sunset in circles, within which the country folks have rarely been hardy enough to intrude. The last possessor who resided at Hazledell was an eccentric old bachelor, with a disposition so composed of kindness and petulance, that every body liked, and scarcely any one could live with him. His relations had been driven away from him, one after the other;-one because he presumed to plead the poverty of a tenant whom the old man had previously resolved upon forgiving his rent; another, because he reserved the choice bin of the cellar when wine was prescribed for the sickness of the poor; and a third, because he suffered himself to be convinced in politics, and destroyed a fair subject for arguments which were intended to afford time to his company for discussing their good cheer. There was but one person who understood him, and this was his nephew; who continued to the last his only companion, and kept him alive solely by knowing how to manage him. He had the good taste never to remind him of his years by approaching him with that awe which is commonly demonstrated by young people towards the old; and the tact to observe exactly where his foibles would bear raillery, and where they required sympathy. He could lead him from one mood to another, |