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2ln Jllnstrateb tOeeklg Journal of Science anir tl)c Jlrts.
WM. C. RICHARDS, EDITOR.
©riginal floetrg.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
“ MY LIFE IS PASSING.’’
I AFTER THE MANNER OF B^RANGER.]
BY HON. It. M. CHARLTON.
My life is passing every day
Some warning message Time doth bring:
I feel the step of slow decay,
I hear Death’s Angel’s rustling wing;
My weary lot no pleasure knows,
No friendly hand dispels my gloom,
And soon around my heart will close
The midnight darkness of the tomb!
My life is passing—Nature’s Spring
With every lovely flower is rife,
But ah! to me no charm they bring,
To deck the winter of my life ;
Why should I heed the blooming rose,
Its blushing hue, its sweet perfume,
When soon around my heart will close
The midnight darkness of the tomb!
My life is passing ah! to me
Misfortune stalks with heavy tread ;
All joys before his coming flee,
And Hope hangs down her humbled head";
My path’s beset with bitter foes,
Who point me to my dismal doom.
And soon around my heart will close
The midnight darkness of the tomb.
My life is passing let it pass ‘;
1 care not when it flits away,
For now I see, as in a glass,
The dawning of a brighter day ;
The grave from which my Savior rose
His love will still, with hope, illume,
Though soon around my heart will close
The midnight darkness of the tomb!
Savannah . Ga.
For the Southern Literary Gazette .
THE THREE GRAVES.
BY WM. C. RICHARDS.
Three graves, three little graves arow,
Our burial-plot contains ;
Three children sleep their turf below,
Not one above remains.
Two of these little graves have lain
Near four yegrs, side by side ;
Our first-born tasted death and pain,
And soon his sister died.
Oh, dark and chill the shadow fell
Upon our hearts that day;
When he we loved, alas! too well,
Passed from our love away.
And scarce upon our path had beam’d
The light of Joy once more,
From eyes that like an angel’s seem’d
So sweet the smile they wore
When dark and cold the shadow came.
Like sudden night at morn;
Quenching at once Hope’s kindling flume
In gloom and wo forlorn.
She died whose greeting-smile had been
To us a glimpse of Heaven ;
Lnough our fondest love to win
though only one was given !
O’er the twin graves we sadly wept
Where both our darlings lay ;
And many precious memories kept
Within our hearts alway.
Most precious memory, to know
That they were in the skies ;
It bade the tear-drops cease to flow
From our uplifted eyes.—
Thus years passed on, and evermore
They lived to us above ;
Our children, as they wore before,
To cherish and to love.
Then came, with Summer’s prime, a son.
And, trembling, we were glad :
His face was fair to look upon,
And soft blue §yes he had.
We watched him with a jealous care,
Awake, asleep, the same ;
And almost prayed he were not fair
That Death might have less claim.
A year and more within our sight
In loveliness he grew ;
A fountain of intense delight,
And pleasure ever new.
He was to us a world, so fraught
With life’s supremest joy
The world without to us was naught:
We lived but in our boy.
Alas! for those who treasures make
Os things that fade away ;
From a sweet dream they will awake
To find their idols clay!
Amid our sweet security,
When every fear was hush’d ;
As when a tempest o’er the sea,
With sudden wing has rush’d ;
On the bright features of our child
There fell a pallid hue,
And in our hearts a tempest wild
Os fear and terror grew. *
•
We watch’d all day his couch of pain,
We watched the weary night;
We prayed —then wept, and prayed again
To stay his spirit’s flight.
Oh God! our souls were crushed to see
The passive sufferer lay
Unconscious of our misery
For many a livelong day.
In vain our watching, vain our tears
The Spoiler’s hour was nigh ;
We held our breath, we hush’d our prayers,
To see the darling die.
So gently passed his soul away,
We thanked our God to see
The smile that on his features lay
When he had ceased to be.
How beautiful in death he seem’d
My pen may not unfold ;
It were as if an angel dream’d
Os happiness untold.
It was a cruel thing to hide
Such beauty evermore ;
Yet we have laid him side by side
With those we lost before.
And now three graves are seen arow,
Beneath a shady tree;
•* Three children sleep their turf below :
Yet blessed still are we.
For we have children in the skies ;
Three angels bright and fair,
Look on us with their holy eyes,
And bid us meet them there.
November 7, 1847.
SPARKLING AND BRIGHT.
A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNE.
BY EPSILON.
*
Sparkling and bright in silvery light,
Are the stars in the blue sky gleaming ;
And the moon’s pale ray on her azure way,
Is soft as an infant’s dreaming.
Then meet to-night in the mellow light
The moon and stars are flinging,
And light be our feet, as the arrow so fleet,
From the bow of the huntsman winging.
Chorus. We meet to-night in the mellow light
The moon and stars are flinging,
And light are our feet, as the arrow so fleet,
From the bow of the huntsman winging.
While thus we sing, with rapid wing
Old Time on his flight is speeding,
And soon we must part, though careless of heart,
We wist not the moments receding.
Then part to-night in the mellow light
Os the moonbeams round us playing;
And oft as we meet, each other to greet,
May Joy wing the hours unstaying.
Chorus. We part to-night in the mellow light
Os the moonbeams round us playing,
And oft as we meet, each other to greet,
Shall Joy wing the moments unptayiag !
ATHENS, GEORGIA, SATCRDAY, MAY 20, 1848.
(Original Sketches of iEraocl.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
ALL ABOUT:
With Pen and Pencil.
‘• .
BY T. ADDISON RICHARDS.
1
I
THE CATSKILLS....PART I.
Anecdote —Varied beauty of the Kauterskill Clove—
Topography and Geology of the Catskills—Access
to the Clove —Palenville Worthies—Uncle Joe—
Billy—Ellick—lke—The Road—The Creek—Wa
ter-falls—“ High Rocks ” and Cascade—Dog-hole
—Uncle Joe’s facetiousness—Bear Story—Tanner
ies—Junction of Streams—Little Falls—Return
to the Village—Plauterkill Clove —South Peak—
Preparations for Removal—Visit from a fair Incon
nue —Promise of Adventure.
I was upon one occasion sketching by the
I road-side, in the Catskill Mountains, with
I two or three fellow-artists, when casting my
eye upon a passing vehicle, I descried the per
i son and caught the voice of a city acquaint
ance. Much amused to meet me so unexpect
: edly, and the more so as he had already suc
! ressGely passed my companions, seated at in
tervals of half a mile along the road, he ex
claimed, calling me by name :
“ Halloa! is that you ? Now by the gods!
I have often heard that these hills are infest
i ed by painters [vulgarism for panthers] and
j I at last believe the story ! ”
The faith of my friend was well grounded.
| The Catskills are so replete with the pic
j turesque and the beautiful, that they are the
! favorite resort of all the worshippers of Na
ture. Especially is the rambler delighted with
the particular portion of these mighty hills,
in which the incident which I have just relat
ed occurred. The gorge known as the “ Kau
terskill Clove,” although not the only pass,
is yet the chief highway leading westward to
the valley of the Susquehannah. It is trav
ersed for many miles by a turn-pike road, in
most excellent and comfortable condition;
and, at its various points and angles, it pre
sents to the eye of the tourist every shifting
scene, from the shadowed and silent dell—iso
lated from the outward w T orld—to the far
spreading panorama, with its foreground of
jagged rock, through the undulating outline of
amphitheatrical hills, to the remote valley of
the Hudson, gemmed with the glittering wa
ters of that noble river, and finally fading in !
the blue-tinted forms of the mountain ranges
in the far-off orient. At one instant the voy
ager gazes from the narrow causeway, edging
the mighty precipice, upon the battling of the
angry torrent at its base ; —at another, his
brow, fevered by the summer warmth, is grate
fully cooled by the frolicsome spray of a gen
tle cascade; —again, he encounters the rustic
bridge, spanning the yawning chasm, or he
stops for a moment at the solitary mountain
hut, or leisurely wends his way through a
quiet hamlet.
It is my purpose to devote the present chap
ter to this lovely Clove and the neighboring
one of the “ Plauterkill.” In so doing, I shall
avail myself of the memories of many happy
VOLUME I.—NUMBER 2.
summer months which I have dreamed away
in their quiet and solemn shades.
It is meet, however, before thus settling
down in this spot, that I should glance hasti
ly at the surrounding regions and perhaps af
ford the reader a brief analysis of the topog
raphy of the entire rahge of the Catskills,
particularly as I design to spend rio inconsid
erable time among them.
The Catskills rise in a line, running North
and South, in the eastern portion of the State
of New r -York. They are situated of
the Hudson, at an aggregate distance from that
river of about ten miles. This interval of un
dulating and fertile country, usually denomi
nated the Valley of the Hudson, is thickly
spotted with villages, flourishing towns and
cities or occupied wi + h rich and highly culti
vate faj ns. Geok ti ;ally speaking, the Cat
sk: . division occupies the counties of Sulli
van, Ulster, Greene, Schoharie and Albany :
but, pictorially considered, it embraces the
county of Greene alone, within whose limits
are comprised all the loftiest peaks, and all the
chief attractions of the tourist. Here is to be
found every point which I shall note in my
rambles, —the Cloves of the Kauterskill and
Plauterkill, the North and South Mountains,
the Round Top, and the Mountain House,
with its fairy lakelets and elfin falls.
Os this region Professor Mather, in his vo
luminous report of the first Geological District
of the State, prepared for those interesting
tomes of light literature, “ The Natural His
tory of New- York” says: “ The whole coun
try is mountainous, hut it lies in heavy swells
of land, rarely precipitous except where the
streams have cut deep gorges and ravines,
and in the eastern and southern flanks of the
mountains where they hound the Hudson and
Mamakating valleys. Nearly all the more
elevated swells of land are capable of tillage
to their summits. The mountains on each
side of the Schoharie-kill are from fifteen hun
dred to two thousand feet above the vallev.
J
and within a few miles rise still higher into
broad, noble swells. The soil is porous
enough not to wash, and springs of limpid
cold water abound. The surface is stony
and gravelly, but is well adapted to grass,
oats, potatoes and barley. Large portions of
the butter sold under the celebrated name of
Goshen Butter are made here,” &c.
I had kindly purposed to favor my readers
with an elaborate tabular view T of all the va
rious strata of rocks found in these hills; but
it will doubtless be more interesting for me
to mention that slate and sandstone are very
abundant; that flag-stone is quarried here in
immense quantities; that seams and layers of
anthracite have been found in some places,
as also fossil plants; that there is a great,
scarcity of useful minerals—copper, lead, zinc
and iron having been seen only in very una
vailable quantities—and that chalybeate and
suphur springs abound in all the region.
The village of Catskill, upon the Catskill
creek, near its confluence with the Hudson, is
111 miles above New-York, and is accessible
from that city, daily and nightly by steam
boat, (as it soon will be by railroad,) in some
six or seven hours. A mail coach will take
the traveller thence in a westward course,
over ten miles of most picturesque landscape,
to the little village of Palenville, perched as a
sentinel at the very threshold of the gorge of
the Kauterskill. If, democratically scorning
the stage, he traverse the distance, as I have
usually done, on foot, he will be very willing
to rest awhile at this spot. Apart from its
location, he will find but little in the village
to interest him. It is but a hamlet —and that
%
of the most indifferent kind. It scarcely sup
ports one illy-furnished store, two miserable