CONCLUSION.

Though the United States of America had sustained their honor in the war of 1812, the fight was never fought to a finish, nor were the results as satisfactory as might have been hoped.

Had peace been made a little later, America might have obtained much better terms. The war had been waged under great difficulties by the Americans, who were not wholly united, and lacked money, men, arms, ships and experience, yet, under all these great difficulties, the United States came out of the war with the respect of the world, such as it had never before enjoyed. It became formidable to Europe as a great and vigorous power, with which it was not safe to trifle.

This was still more apparent, when the government declared war on the dey of Algiers, one of the pirate princes of North Africa, who, for hundreds of years, had made war on the commerce of all nations almost with impunity. Having violated their treaty, President Madison sent a naval force to the Mediterranean, which, on June 17th and 19th, captured two Algerian vessels-of-war and threatened Algiers. The dey made peace and gave liberty to all prisoners without ransom, and full satisfaction for damages to commerce.

The people of the new republic, learning by experience, in the year 1816, began improving their coast defences and increasing their navy. Commerce and manufacturers were encouraged. In the autumn of 1816, James Monroe was elected president of the United States. On December 11,1816, Indiana was admitted to the Union as a State.

With Monroe's administration, a new era dawned for America. The failure of the French revolution, and, finally, the failure of Napoleon Bonaparte and the re-establishment of the old monarchy in France, as the result first of the excesses of the French republic, and then of the military interference of Bonaparte with the existing state of things in Europe, had an important influence in modifying the politics of the Republican party in the United States; so they came, partially in Jefferson's administration and completely by the close of Madison's, to follow the wise and vigorous policy pursued by Washington and the Federal party; while the general government and the institutions of the country became deeply imbued with the regard to popular rights, and attention to the interests and will of the people that formed the leading idea of Jefferson and the original Democratic, or, as it was then called, Republican party.

The leading events of Monroe's two administrations were the attention given to internal improvements, among which may be mentioned the Erie canal in New York, the encouragement of manufactures, the acquisition of Florida by treaty, the Seminole war, the Missouri compromise, December 14th, 1819, the Monroe Doctrine, promulgated in 1822, and the visit of General Lafayette to the United States, in August, 1824.

But little explanation of these events is necessary. In December, 1817, Mississippi was admitted into the Union, and Alabama became a territory. On March 2, 1819, Arkansas was organized into a territory, and on December 14, Alabama was admitted to the Union. In this year commenced the earnest and acrimonious discussion between the North and South in regard to the extension of slavery. Both Maine and Missouri sought admission as States. Maine was admitted, March 15th, 1820, and, after a two years' wild debate, it was thought the whole question of slavery was settled by the Missouri Compromise, February 27, 1821. This compromise was the adoption of a provision in the bill for the admission of Missouri, that in all territory south of thirty-six degrees and thirty minutes north latitude (the southern boundary of the State of Missouri) slavery might exist; but it was prohibited in the region north of that line. A member of congress from Georgia prophetically said in the course of the debate:

"A fire has been kindled, which all the waters of the ocean cannot put out, and which only seas of blood can extinguish." Had the Missouri Compromise been kept inviolate to the present day, slavery might still have existed below thirty-six degrees and thirty minutes north latitude.

The commerce of the United States was greatly injured by swarms of privateers under Spanish-American flags, who had degenerated into pirates, and so became outlaws, subject to chastisement by any nation.

They infested the West Indian seas and the northern coast of South America. Against these pirates and to protect American commerce, the United States sent Commodore Perry, with two ships of war, in the spring of 1819. Perry died of yellow fever soon after his arrival in southern waters. In June, 1822, Captain Allen, of the United States schooner Alligator, successfully fought a band of pirates in the West Indies, captured one of their schooners, and recaptured five American vessels; but Captain Allen was subsequently killed in an encounter with the bold buccaneers. The next year Commodore Porter, with a larger force, entered the pirate infested waters and almost completely destroyed the buccaneers. It was the policy of the government of the United States to favor the revolt of the Spanish-American provinces, whose flag these pirates had dishonored, as a means for preventing the establishment, in the future, of monarchical powers on the American continent. The latter policy was avowed by the president, and has never been lost sight of by our government, and is known in history as the "Monroe Doctrine." Accordingly, on the recommendation of the president, congress, early in 1822, resolved by a unanimous vote to recognize the independence of five of the revolted colonies, and appropriated $100,000 to defray the expenses of envoys to the seat of government of each, whom the president soon afterward appointed.

The year 1824 was marked by the visit of Washington's and America's best friend General Lafayette. As every boy has read of the visit of this good man, only a brief mention of so important an event is necessary. He arrived at New York August 15, 1824, and never did visitor receive so warm welcome by any nation.

"Many interesting incidents occurred during Lafayette's tour through the country. A touching one was related to the writer, many years ago, by George Washington Parke Custis, the adopted son of General Washington. In October, 1824, Lafayette visited Mount Vernon and the tomb of Washington. He was conveyed to the shore from the steamboat in a barge, accompanied by his son (who had lived at Mount Vernon with Custis when they were boys), secretary John C. Calhoun, and Mr. Custis. At the shore, he was received by Lawrence Lewis, a nephew of Washington, and the family of Judge Bushrod Washington, who was absent on official business. He was conducted to the mansion where, forty years before, he took his last leave of the patriot, whom he most sincerely loved as a father. Then the company proceeded to the tomb of Washington (the old one on the brow of the hill), when Mr. Custis, after a brief speech, presented the general with a gold ring containing a lock of Washington's hair. Lafayette received it with emotion, and, after thanking the donor, he affectionately embraced him and the other gentlemen present. Then he fervently pressed his lips to the door of the vault. It was opened and there were displayed the coffins of Washington and his wife, decorated with flowers. The general descended the steps, kissed the leaden caskets, while tears suffused his cheeks, and then reverently retired." [Footnote: Lossing's "Our Country," Vol. V., p. 1327.]

Shortly after peace was declared, Fernando's regiment was mustered out of the service, and he and Sukey went to their homes in Ohio. Both had done their share toward preserving the honor of their country and wished to retire to private life. A great change had come over Sukey. The text quoted by Fernando on the morning when they found Captain Snipes dead among the rocks seemed ever to ring in his ear.

"Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." He proceeded to a careful study of the sentence, and from that became a student of the Bible. A few days after their return, he said:

"Fernando, what I did during the war was right, but was not done in the right spirit. I shot from revenge. I killed because I hated the British officers. I seemed to feel the stinging cuts of the cat on my back. That flogging made a devil of me. I hated the sight of a redcoat. It's all gone now--not that my revenge is satiated, but because I am changed. A new light has been opened up to my mind, and I can see it was no disgrace to be flogged for freedom. It was the ignorance of my enemies that I should have pitied instead of condemned."

Fernando suspected the bent of Sukey's mind long before he made the announcement that he intended to enter the ministry. Back to the Maryland Academy at Baltimore went Sukey. He entered the theological department, and four years later began a long and successful ministerial career.

Major Stevens had not forgotten his promise to pay the Maryland village a visit. If he had been disposed to forget his promise, which he was not, he would have been reminded of it by a letter which he received shortly after he returned home. The envelope was small, and the superscription was written in a neat feminine hand. Small as the envelope was, the letter contained much, for it was closely written and every page filled from top to bottom. There were other letters and petitions from the grateful citizens asking him to be present at the barbecue and Fourth of July celebration at the town of Mariana. None of these letters or invitations had stronger effect to induce him to take a journey to Maryland, than the closely penned missive did, though it was only a friendly letter.

Fernando set out the first of June. Peace again reigned over the fair land, and the country was all ablaze with glory. The ploughboy's whistle was heard in every field in harmony with the lark. The journey by mail coach was a pleasant one, for, being in no great haste, he traveled by easy stages, stopping over frequently to rest. He saw on every hand evidence of awakening interest and prosperity. New houses were building; new towns were laid out; new fields were inviting the ploughman; the busy hum of industry everywhere filled the heart of the patriot, and he more than once exclaimed:

"What a great country is ours!"

He arrived at Baltimore at the close of a delightful day, and alighted in front of the principal tavern. Some one, rushing across the street, pushed pedestrians right and left and howled in a voice loud enough to be heard three blocks away:

"Tear and ages! Clear the track!--that's himself--divil a one else!"

This exclamation came from Terrence Malone, who, bareheaded and in shirt sleeves, was rushing through the throng of people on the street in reckless disregard of high hats and crinoline. Women screamed and one hysterical creature tried to faint, but was restrained by the fear that her elegant costume might be soiled.

"Call the watchman! Take that fellow and lock him up! knock him down! Who is the wretch?"

These are only a part of the imprecations heaped on the devoted head of Terrence Malone, who, regardless of everything and everybody, burst his way through the crowd and reached Fernando's side.

"O, murther! O; holy mother! O, Moses! Is it yersilf safe afther all?"

The poor fellow could say no more, but burst into tears, for a more tender heart never beat in any breast. Terrence had just arrived an hour before in Baltimore, having come from a long cruise in which he brought four prizes, for the privateers were slow to learn that the war was over. He had put up at a rival house across the street and just removed his coat for a bath, when, looking out of the window, he recognized his old friend alighting from the stage coach.

All former arrangements were cancelled and Fernando and Terrence that evening occupied the same room. There was much to talk about. Terrence told him that Mr. Hugh St. Mark the "illigant" gunner had served in the last cruise on his vessel, and he never seemed to tire of talking about him. He was a "gintleman," from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head. Mr. St. Mark was on the ship in the harbor, and next day came ashore. He greeted the major with his kind quiet smile. Fernando learned that neither had been to Mariana since the bombardment and destruction of the Xenophon. He prevailed on them to accompany him, and next day in a swift yacht they sailed out of the harbor and down the coast. The scenery revived many recollections of Fernando's early experience. They passed the point where he had fought his duel, and he could not repress a smile at the ludicrous termination of what had so nearly proved a serious affair. Terrence did most of the talking, for Fernando was busy with his own reflections. He was asking himself if it might be possible that he would be just in time to witness the nuptials of Matson and Morgianna. He had never freed himself from the thought that she loved the lieutenant. Her regard for himself was gratitude not love. He would not allow himself to believe that she entertained a more tender sentiment.

When they arrived at Mariana the people congregated in a great crowd on the beach, and the local martial band, consisting of three drums and a fife, played "Yankee Doodle." while Fernando and his friends were escorted to the tavern. Here a local orator, who had been three times an unsuccessful candidate for a seat in the halls of the legislature, made a short speech. This had scarcely terminated in three rousing cheers, when a carriage from Captain Lane's house came rattling down the street. The captain was in the vehicle.

"Why are you cheering? Who has arrived?" he demanded.

"Major Stevens, who saved Mariana, when the British were about to take it," the orator answered.

"Where is he?"

"In the tavern."

"But he is not going to stay there!" thundered the old sailor, rolling out of his carriage and rushing on the piazza. "I have made room in my own house for him, and, by the trident of Neptune! he shall come with me."

Fernando, hearing the voice of his old friend, came out to grasp his hand; and Captain Lane, pointing to his carriage, swore he had come to take him bag and baggage to his house. Fernando explained that he had two friends; but the captain did not care if he had a dozen, and in less time than the whole matter could be told the three travellers found themselves in the vehicle whirling up the avenue of trees, many of which still bore the marks of shells and cannon shot.

The greeting between Fernando and Morgianna was warm, but formal. Terrence impulsively grasped the little hand of the "maid o' the beach," as he called her, and paid her some pretty compliment, which caused her to blush, enhancing her beauty a hundred fold.

She was formally introduced to Mr. St. Mark, the gunner whose skill had saved them. She had seen the quiet man at a distance during the siege, but had never talked with him.

"Say, Fernando, do yez mark how Misther St. Mark stares at Miss Morgianna?" asked Terrence that evening. "Bad luck to his ill manners, if he wasn't so ould, I'd think he was in love with her."

Fernando made no response. Captain Lane, during the evening, engaged St. Mark in a discussion about General Jackson, who was undergoing a trial by the civil courts of New Orleans for the violation of the civil laws in saving the city. Captain Lane was loud in his condemnation of the Peace faction, which, not satisfied with having thrown every possible obstacle in the way of the administration in the prosecution of the war, was now ridiculing the manner in which it had terminated.

Fernando and Morgianna, during the course of the evening, found themselves alone, and he ventured to ask:

"Is Lieutenant Matson in America?"

"I think not," she answered, in a careless way that astonished him. He fixed his eyes on the floor for a moment, and then ventured to say:

"Pardon me, Miss Lane, but as your friend I am interested in your affairs;--when is it to come off?"

"When is what to come off?" she asked in real surprise.

"Your marriage with Lieutenant Matson."

She gazed at him a moment in astonishment, and then her old native mischievousness got control, and she laughed outright. His very earnestness gave the affair an air of ludicrousness.

"I am in earnest, Miss Lane," said Fernando, seriously.

"So I perceive," and she still laughed provokingly.

"May I ask if you have not been engaged all along to Lieutenant Matson?"

"No."

"When was it broken off?"

"It never was made."

Fernando turned his face away to hide his confusion and said half aloud:

"Have I been a fool all along? If it was not the lieutenant, then who in the name of reason was it?" The roguish creature seemed really to enjoy this discomfiture. Fernando's cheek had never blanched in battle, but in the presence of this little maiden he was a coward. After several efforts in which he found the old malady of something rising in his throat returning, he said:

"But, Morgianna, was he not your lover?"

"No, he was father's friend; but I could never love him, though I treated him respectfully." She was serious now.

"Then, Morgianna, who was it?" he asked impulsively. She was silent. He waited but a second or two and went on. "Some one surely stood in the way of our--my happiness. I had hoped that you did not despise me. I scarce dared to think you loved me, but it was some one,--who stood in my way?"

Her cheek grew crimson as the rich blood mounted to neck and face, and in a voice scarce audible she answered:

"No one!"

"Morgianna!" he whispered, "dare I hope--dare I for one minute--" he had risen to his feet and was standing at her side with wildly beating heart. She made no answer, but her long drooping lashes almost concealed her eyes, as she gazed on the floor.

He advanced a step nearer, bent over and took one little trembling hand in his own. She did not attempt to withdraw it this time, and, gently slipping his disengaged arm about her waist, he murmured:

"Morgianna!"

Still she was silent. He went on:

"You know how I have loved you all these years;--you must have known how I have suffered and braved dangers untold. I sought--defied death, because I deemed you lost. I spared the man I thought my rival, because I believed you loved him. Though a young man, there are gray hairs in my head, for it has been a living death since that night, Morgianna. Why have you----"

"Oh, don't, don't!" she plead, tears starting to her beautiful eyes. "Don't speak that way--forgive me."

"Morgianna!" cried Fernando, "Morgianna!"

"Call me that; aye call me that always," exclaimed the captain's little daughter; "never speak coldly to me, never be distant, never again reprove me for the follies I have long repented, or I shall die, Fernando."

"I reprove you!" said Fernando.

"Yes, for every kind and honest word you uttered went to my heart. For you who have borne so much from me--for you, who owe your suffering to my caprice--for you to be so kind--so noble to me--oh, Fernando!"

He could say nothing, not a syllable. There was an odd sort of eloquence in his arm, which had crept further round her waist, and their lips met.

The barbecue and celebration was next day. Fernando was present, but a little absent-minded. When called on for a speech, his ideas were confused, and he was about to break down, when a voice behind him whispered:

"Ye're makin' a divil's own mess of it, Fernando, lave it to me."

He took Terrence at his word, and announced that his Irish friend, one of the defenders of Mariana, would now address them, and gave way to the orator. Terrence did the subject justice. With the rich brogue of Ireland rolling from his tongue, he avowed himself an American. He declared that he was a better American than many present, as he was an American from choice, and they by necessity. Terrence was an orator, and with his ready wit, soon had the audience roaring and wild with enthusiasm.

Fernando did not hear much of the speech, for he and Morgianna had stolen away to the rocky promontory to listen to the sad sea waves, while they built air castles for the future.

Next day, Mr. St. Mark expressed a wish to see Captain Lane in private. The request was granted, and when they were alone in the apartment of the old sea-captain, St. Mark said:

"Pardon me, Captain Lane; but I wish to speak to you on family matters, which may seem not to concern me."

"Heave ahead, shipmate, for I have no family secrets."

"Will you tell me the maiden name of your wife?"

"I never had a wife."

This announcement brought St. Mark to his feet, and his usually placid features exhibited the wildest excitement. "Never married! But your daughter--"

"Only daughter by adoption, shipmate. She is no blood relation to me, though I love her as dearly as any father could."

"But her father--her mother?"

"I don't know who either of them are, I can only suspect."

"Don't you know their names?"

"I never did."

"This is remarkable!" and the features of the usually quiet man betrayed the greatest excitement. "Where did you find her and when?"

"I found her at sea when she was a baby, too young to speak or remember anything of herself."

"Captain Lane, do you mind telling me all about the finding of her?"

The captain did not, and proceeded to tell him the story of Morgianna, which the reader already knows. St. Mark had regained his composure at the conclusion of the story and, in a calm, clear voice, said:

"Captain, I may have the sequel to your story. I am a native of Vermont and, at the age of twenty-two, married Bertha Rigdon of Boston, whose brother Alfred, like myself, was a sea captain. We were both young, ardent lovers of liberty, and thoroughly imbued with the ideas of Thomas Jefferson in regard to the French Revolution. When our government refused to take up the quarrel with France, we determined to espouse her cause ourselves. Both our fathers had died prisoners on board the old Jersey prison ship, and we felt that our lives should be devoted to avenging them. This resolution was wicked, and perhaps the punishment which followed we deserved.

"We each commanded a vessel which began a warfare on English commerce, defying all their embargo acts and neutrality laws. We were soon declared outlaws and prices set on our heads. Not only Great Britain, but Spain, Prussia and Austria declared us pirates, and our own government dared not shelter us.

"My wife, with our infant child, accompanied me on my last voyage. I was sailing in company with her brother, Captain Alf Rigdon, when we were chased by some British cruisers off Rio in June, 1796, and Alf's brig being the swiftest sailer, I sent my wife and child aboard his vessel, with a large sum of money to have them conveyed to the United States and cared for until we could return.

"I parted from the ship and after a three days' chase was overhauled by the British cruisers and captured. I was forced to join her navy to save my life, and served Great Britain until I deserted during the siege of Mariana. I have never heard of my brother-in-law, my wife or child since."

Captain Lane prided himself on being able to control his feelings under all circumstances; but it required no little effort for him to do so now. After a few moments, he asked:

"What was the name of your brother-in-law's ship?"

"Morgianna!"

Captain Lane did not start, for he expected this.

"Was he a free mason?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you describe how he looked then?"

"He was about thirty-five years of age, a little above middle height, with a broad forehead, over which fine brown hair fell in careless folds; he wore his beard and mustache long, the beard extending in a point two or three inches below the throat. His eyes were brown, large and full of expression while in conversation. He was brave, noble, and all that goes to make up a grand man."

"And your wife, can you describe her?"

"She was an exact counterpart of your daughter."

Captain Lane rose and with considerable emotion grasped the hand of St. Mark, and said:

"My daughter is your daughter."

Then came the serious task of breaking the intelligence to Morgianna.

It was done deliberately and quietly, without any sensational scene. Yet her joy at discovering her father increased her happiness almost to overflowing. "I am more blest than most girls," she declared. "I have two fathers, and while I will learn to love my new father, I will not forget to love my old father."

The marriage of Fernando and Morgianna was celebrated the following autumn at the new church which had been erected over the Ashes of the former one. Both of Morgianna's fathers were present; but to her real father was consigned the honor of giving away the bride.

Terrence and Sukey were present. The Irishman declared the matter might have been consummated long ago if they had only left it to him.

The wedding day was made a public holiday in the village. Never in all its existence was the little hamlet so gay. Bands played, choruses sang, and the old cannon, still left at the tumble-down fort, fired a salute, while American flags waved from every house. The local orator, who still entertained hopes of the legislature, delivered a stirring address.

Job, who heard of the happy event, came all the way from Baltimore to shake the hand of "Massa Stevens" and wish him much joy.

"I iz all right now, massa," he declared. "I iz found my own sure enough massa agin, an' I'm goin' back to work for him all de time. No more goin' to sea fer me; I iz no Britisher."

Fernando and his father-in-law, soon after his marriage, engaged in manufacturing enterprises in New England, with Captain Lane as the silent partner and moneyed man of the enterprise. Home industries having been fostered by the war, American manufactures promised a bright future.

Sukey was for many years a prominent minister of the Gospel in Ohio. Terrence studied law and became a leading member of the Philadelphia bar.

Mariana is now no more. Time and disaster have swept it from the peninsula, and to-day it remains only in the memory of the oldest inhabitants. The Stevens family, though subjected to many disasters, has grown, and become a part of the history of the country. The humble part played by Fernando in sustaining the honor of his country has never been recorded by the general historian; but it lingers in the memory of the grateful posterity of many of the heroic men and women who lived in the trying days of the early history of the Great Republic of the New World.

THE END.