Jin lllustratcir tlUckln Journal of 33cllcs-f cttrcs, Science anb tljc Jlrts.
WM. €. RICHARDS* EDITOR.
Cljoice ilotners of socsri.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE RING OF BETROTHAL.
li Y M R -S . J aS E V II C . N’ F. A L .
“ Bless tbee (laughter ! bless thee !”
Thus a matron said,
With her hand laid fondly
On the fair girl’s*head.
“ Nay my>child, no blushes —
Thou hast rightly done,
And thou well deservest
All thy truth hath won.
For I guess the secret
Thou canst scarcely tell, —
Know that he who woos thee,
Long has loved thee well.
Know he now would win thee
For hi- bride —his wife,
.Placing in thy keeping
All his hope of life.
Gleaming in its set ting
Os the purest gold,
On thy hand, the diamond
Its low tale hath told.
Os thy faith the ‘emblem
Pure, and free from stain,
Daughter, I would charge thee
Let it thus remain ! •
Now thy love is fearless!
Now thy heart beats high ;
And a proud devotion *
Beameth from thine eye !
But as years roll onward,
Care and change will come,
For some shadow resteth
O’er the brightest home.
As the diamond paletli
In the glare.of day,
And in deepest darkness
Flashes forth its ray,—
So thy love should brighten
As thy sorrpws rise.
Guiding him who loves thee
Till the shadow flies.
If Distrust should whisper,
Turn thy heart away ;
It’ than e’er otfendest, •
For forgiveness pray.
So shall thine affection
Like the gem endure,
Free from all corroding,
liver bright and pure.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
K Y RPs'ILON.
1 low sweet to me the chime
< If Sabbath bells —whose music tells
Os rest from toil, and earth’s turmoil.
The boon, of holy Time !
1 drink the blessed air,
That seems to be as pure and free,
As that which played in Eden’s shade —
lire Sin had tresspassed there.
No sound disturbs the calm,
But voice of birds and lowing herds,
That to my heart doth peace impart—
And to its woes a balm.
I drive the world away,
f bid its gains—its joys and pains
Disturb me not; and these forgot,
Welcome the Sabbath day !
Oh, God ! vouchsafe, 1 pray,
( pon ray head, thy love t<> shed,
’ And to my heart thy grace impart.
That joy may crown this day !
And when the Sabbath chime
Ceases on earth, may anew birth.
My sold prepare, to breathe the air
Os Heaven’s pure Sabbath clime !
FOB A DECEASED POETASTER.
Here lies a bard whose wretched verses ran
1 o dark oblivion faster than the man ;
But Death took pity on his hapless lot,
Ami now, both rhymes and author are forgot.
Original Sketches of ®rarel.
With Pen an il Pencil.
BY T. ADDISON RICHARDS.’
“ This is a great country!” exclaimed my
übiquitous friend A***, as 1 once ran against
him in the most crowded thoroughfare of the
metropolis of New England. “ This is a great
country!” was again his salutation, when I
unexpectedly discovered his waggish phiz up
on the shoulders of my vis a vis . at the table
d’ hote of the St. Charles. “This is a great
country!’ was whispered in my ear not long
after, while litting on a pair of kids at “ Stew
art’s:” and looking round, there stood my
“ poor Yorick.” intent upon a pair of “ eight
and a halfs.” “ A great country!” reached
me in a sad voice from the lips of a fellow
gazer, in Cincinnati, upon the dying agonies
of a fat porker, and turning round, I once more
pressed the hand of my friend. “A great
country!” cried a voice at my elbow, as my
foot slipped while traversing the narrow cause
way to “Termination Rock,” at Niagara, and
a familiar arm rescued me from a bath in the
mighty cauldron. “ This is a great country!”
arrested my attention, as 1 caught my old
friend’s eye on turning from the card table
in a Mississippi steam-boat, where I had wit
nessed thousands lost and won by fool and
knave. “This is a great country!” said a
gentleman, tapping me on the shoulder, and
extending his arm towards the mighty hills
which environ the nobl% Hudson, and upon
which I had been long gazing from the deck
of our magnificent river palaces. “ This is a
great country!” said the same gentleman, by
way both of salutation and apology, when he
once extended his arm over my head and qui
etly took possession of a beautiful chip which
1 had just succeeded in dissevering from one
of the gigantic stalactites of the “ Mammoth
Cave ”of Kentucky. “ This is a great coun
try was the burthen of a greeting, which,
in a few minutes after it was uttered. 1 re
ceived from him last New Year's Day by the
telegraph from Buffalo. “ This is a great coun
try !” will probably mingle with the roar of
waves, when it shall be my happiness to look
upon the setting sun from the shores of the Pa
cific ; for, go where I will, my cosmopolitan
friend is sure to be near, and never has he
other greeting than his favorite exclamation,
which is more the expression of the profound
impress that the mighty scenes, continually
changing beneath his gaze, have left upon his
mind than the suggestion of an eccentric fancy.
And, surely, every one who has been a rover
like him with heart to feel, and intellect to un
derstand like his. must mentally echo and re
echo his enthusiastic chorus. Our mighty
rocks throw hack the song, the hurricane thun
ders it forth upon our lofty mountains, the*
breezes lisp it in our beautiful rallies, and the
roar of our great waters forever swells the an
But well as this term “great” may be ap-
ATHENS* GEORGIA, SATURDAY, MAY 13, 1848.
plied to every feature of our land, to none does
it better belong than to its wonderful and
mighty exhibitions of natural beauty. Dis
pute who will our claims to greatness in all
other things, here cavil is dumb. God himself
has written his name upon his works and all
must humbly confess the master-band.
It is the impression left upon my mind by
this feature of our country's greatness, which
I propose irr the following pages to record, —
and if the reader follows me with hut a tithe
of the interest with which I shall again ga/.e
upon the great lakes of the North, the far
spreading praries of the West, and the broad
savannas of the South, I shall not have re
curred to my sketch-book and diary in vain.
My purpose is to ramble hither and thither
as fancy listeth—now flying over wide areas
of Rail-road, more quickly than the power of
steam even will bear me. to linger long in the.
quiet valley or by the gentle brook. I shrill
gaze from the mountain-top upon the gorge
ous panorama beneath, while 1 leave it to the
eographer to expatiate upon my precise eleva
m above the level of the sea. I shall ad
ire the moss-grown rock or the jagged peak,
, hile the geologist assigns it a place in the
learned family of granite, slate, lime-stone or
iraj). I shall laugh with the falling waters,
while others use them to turn their mills. I
shall record an historic legend, a local tale, or
an idle adventure, instead of speculating on
the capabilities of the locale for the great util
itarian purposes of life. In short, kind read
er, I shall treat everything and la pittojesque ,
and endeavor to be as pleasant a companion
and gossip as possible, to the end that we may
finish, as we begin, our journey together.
With this, my comprehensive map of our
proposed rambles I shall now bear you off with
me by the “ tirst boatbut to what precise
latitude, tfyere is no telling—nntil our next
£cgcnbs of tljc liefr itlcn. •>
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE SHOOTING METEORS.
BY CHARI.ES LAN MA N .
Among the Indians who live upon the north
eastern shore of Lake Huron, it is believed
that the heavens contain only four meteors
which have the power of shooting through
the sky. It is thought they severally occupy
the four quarters of the compass, and that they
never perform their arrowy journey excepting
for the purpose of warning the Huron Indians
of approaching war. The meteors in ques
tion, or Pun gun-nung, are recognised by their
peculiar brilliancy, and universally consider
ed the Manitoes or guardian spirits of the en
tire Indian race. They came into existence
at the same period of time which witness
ed the creation of Lake Huron itself; and
the legend which accounts for their origin is
distinguished for the wild and rofnantic fan
cies of the aborigines.
It was the winter time, and an Indian with
his wife and two children, a daughter and a
son, were living in a wigwam on a bleak pe
ninsula of the great Lake. The game of that
section of country had nearly all disappeared,
aqd the fish were spending the season in such
deep water, that it was quite impossible to se
cure any of them for food. Everything seem
ed to go wrong with the poverty-stricken In
dian. and he was constantly troubled with the
fear that the Master of Life intended to anni
hilate his family and himself by starvation.
He expressed his anxiety to his wife, and was
surprised to hear her answer him with a song.
Nearly half a moon had passed away, and
VOLUME I.—NUMBER 1;
the sufferings of this unfortunate family were
melancholy in the extreme. Whole days did
the lather spend roaming through the forests,
with his bow and arrows, and on four sever
al evenings had he returned without even a
pair of tiny snow-birds for a supper. The ill
luck which attended him in his expeditions
made him Very, miserable, but he was fre
quently astonished and alarmed, on such oc
casions, by the conduct of his wife and chil
dren. When he gave them an account of his
ill-luck in obtaining game, instead of mani
festing any anxiety, they usually ran about
the wigwam with their fingers on their mouths,
and uttering a singular moan ; hut he noticed
with fear that they were becoming greatly
emaciated for the want of food. So deeply
grieved was the poor man, that lie almost re
solved to bury himself in the snow and die ;
hut he made a better resolution and again
went oiit to hunt.
On one occasion he had wandered into the
woods to an unusual distance, and, as fortune
would have it, was successful in finding and
shooting a single rabbit. With the speed of
a deer •did he return to his cabin, (with his
braided shoes over the crusted snow,) hut he
now met with anew disappointment. On en
tering his lodge he found the fire entirely out,
and the simple utensils for cooking all scat
tered about in great confusion, hut what was
far more melancholy, his wife and children
were gone, and he knew not where to find
them. The more he thought upon what had
happened for many days past, the more be
wildered did he become. He threw down his
game almost in despair, and hurried out of his
cabin in search of his missing family. He
looked in every rV-rectiob, hut could see no
signs of their appearing, and the only noise
that he could possibly hear was a singular
and most doleful moan, resembling the wail
of a loon, which seemed to come from the up
per air. By a natural instinct lie raised his
eyes towards the heavens, and beheld perch
ed upon the dry limb of a tall tree which stood
a short distance off all the members of his
family. He shouted with delight at the un
expected spectacle, and, rushing towards the
tree, told his wife and children that they must
come down, for he had killed a rabbit and
they would now have a good feast. But again
was he astonished to find his words unheed
ed ! Again did he beseech them to come down,
hut they replied not a single word and looked
upon him with eyes that seemed made of fire.
And what was still more wonderful it was ev
ident that they had thrown aside their beav
er and deer-skin dresses, and were now deck
ed out in newly fashioned robes made of the
fur of the white fisher and the white fox. All
this Was utterly inexplicable, and the poor
husband re-entered iiis lodge, bewildered and
perplexed to a marvelous degree.
Then it was that the idea entered his head
that he would try an experiment, by appeal
ing to the hunger of his obstinate wife and
children. He therefore cleaned the rabbit and
boiled a sweet soup which he carried out, and
with which he endeavored to allure nis friends
to the earth. But this attempt was all in vain.
The mother and her children expressed no de
sire for the food, and still remained upon the
tree, swaying to and fro like a flock of latgo
birds. Again in his wretchedness was he
about to destroy himself, hut he took the
precaution to appropriate the soup to its le
gitimate purpose. Soon as this business
was accomplished, he relapsed into his for
mer state of melancholy, from which he
was suddenly aroused by the moans of his
wife.which he was sure had an articulate tone.
Again was he riveted to his standing place un
der the magic tree, and from the moaning of