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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