152 THE YOUNG WIDOW OF BREMEN. 



" Why, dat de massa be vebby dam fool, for leebing his sleek leetle 

 place in Carleny, to go to dis Alybaamy, where dere be no raal niggars 

 nutting but dutty brack mulatty rascals and buckra men." 



" Me tink so, too, Pompey," replied Mr. Scipio, " but eh ! golly ! de 

 massa be wake he feel for de cow-hide !" 



A smart cut on the back, and an oath from the master, quieted the 

 slaves for the remainder of the night, and by day-break, I was again on 

 my road to the village of Lincolnton. 



THE YOUNG WIDOW OF BREMEN. 



THERE is a mural monumental tablet, in a common field wall, near a 

 handsome house in the suburbs of Bremen. On one side of the lane in 

 which it stands are the court-yards of some spacious residences, on the 

 other is a walk, leading through some of the prettiest fields near the 

 town. 



Two travellers, in the last century, stopped to gaze on this tablet, 

 which appeared to have been very recently erected. It was of very fine 

 execution, and looked fitter for some old church than the place where it 

 stood. The design represented a kneeling female figure, mourning over 

 an urn ; in her position and features remorse was mingled with grief. 

 Her eyes were hidden by the hand which supported the weeping head, 

 By the broken sword and entangled balance on which her feet rested, 

 the mourner seemed to personify Justice. No inscription or other guide 

 to the meaning appeared, and our travellers turned eagerly to see if any 

 one were near who could explain what the monument meant, and why 

 it was placed there. 



At length an old man, of a sad, but benevolent countenance, came 

 slowly up ; and of him they inquired the meaning of this tablet. He 

 sighed deeply, and then bade them sit down beside him on the grass. 



You might look long, (said the old man, after a pause of some 

 minutes,) on the crowded ramparts of Bremen, when all the fairest were 

 there, ere your eye rested on a more beautiful face, or a lighter, and more 

 graceful figure, than Mary Von Korper's. Often were her dark eyes 

 beaming, and her little feet seen twinkling, on the favorite resorts of the 

 fair and the gay and if the stranger asked who she was, whose smile 

 was brightest, and who moved along so trippingly, the answer from all 

 or any of her townsmen would be ever the same, "'Tis the young widow 

 of Bremen/' And fair very fair she still was ; still looked she younger 

 than many girls under twenty, though she had been the young widow 

 of Bremen for seventeen years at least. 



She had been married when a mere child ; her husband died soon 

 after the birth of his only son, and marriage seemed never to have 

 dimmed the first freshness of her youth and beauty ; so that when her 

 son Hermann returned now and then from Jena, where he studied, and 

 when he and his mother walked together, even her near neighbours 

 thought rather of a brother and sister, than of a mother and her son. 

 And he looked rather her older than younger brother, for Hermann, 

 like his father, was of a thoughtful, deeply-channelled cast of features, 

 whilst our widow had the light, sunny glance of a girl. So young, so 

 handsome, and so fond of life and enjoyment, it seemed strange that 



