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SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE:
I
* •* *
A WEEKLY JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, SCIENCE AND ART,
WM. ۥ RICHARDS, Editor.
Original JJoetrg.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
A MEMORIAL *
BY LEILA CAMERON.
-he hath fought the last fight and the victory won,
Her journey is ended—her pilgrimage done,
From life’s toil, her worn spirit has gained its re
lease.
And her tempest tossed soul is forever at peace.
A shadow has shrouded our hearts with its gloom,
For one, fondly loved, has gone down to the tomb ;
Hut we mingle our grief, with thanksgiving the
while,
For a Christian has passed from our sight with a
smile!
She hath gone to her rest!—bear her gently away,
Look your last, weeping friends, on the pale silent
clay! —
Let her sleep where the sunlight may fall on her
tomb,
’Round her grave, let bright flowers exhale their
perfume,
For they speak to our hearts, with the accents of
love,
And they hopefully whisper of mansions above, —
Where her spirit, is reaping, its glorious reward, —
And her soul, has found rest, in the bosom of God !
She hath gono to her rest! and we may not regret,
That her sun in the evening all calmly hath set,
Full long had she lingered a pilgrim below,
Full long had she waited, her summons to go;—
And now, though on earth, we shall see her no more,
We that her sorrows forever are o’er,
And we joy—e’en in grief—that to her it is given,
To join the bright throng, of the blessed in heaven!
On her calm, placid brow, our last kisses we've
prest
And we lay her all gently away to her rest,
While nur tears falling fast, o’er her last narrow
home,
Tell the love we have borne to the spirit that’s
flown,
The heart, which in age, was undimmed in its glow,
Now slumbers unheeding, our love, or our woe;
And the form, which in life, was so stately and firm,
In the dust now lies low, with the shroud and the
worm!
Hut we know that she trusted in Him who can save,
The tried souls, he has ransomed from Death and
the Grave;
And while sadly wo mingle our*tears for her loss,
We will bow ’neath His rod, and still worship the
cross,
With the faith which through life, was her comfort
and stay,
We mournfully, tenderly lay her away —
Till the summons shall come, which will bid her
arise
To meet her Redeemer, ivith joy in the skies !
*Ofa beloved relative who died recently in New York,
it the age of seventy-three years.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
HOPE.
FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER.
BY JACQUES JOURNOT.
I.
flow many often speak and dr* am,
Os a happier Future coming,
And fancy still they catch a gleara
Os a golden Era looming !
The world may grow old, and again grow young,
And the Hope of The Better will still be sung.
11.
Hope comes with life, in its dawning bright,
O'er the sportive child to hover;
It inspires the youth with its magic light,
And when the old the grave-sods cover,
And the g>*ay-haired one in the tomb is bound,
Hope’s ever-green emblem we plant on the mound.
111.
It is no flattering vain deceit,
From a foolish fancy springing ;
It speaks of a life more true and meet —
An answer to the spirit bringing,
Where the promises it ever makes,
Through the inner voice, it never breaks !
ATHENS, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, MARCH 17, 1849.
popular Calcs’
-- * ,
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE INDIAN MOUND:
A TALE OF SOUTHERN COUNTRY LIFE.
BY CAROLINE HOWARD.
As the leading incidents and all the de
scriptions in the following pages are literally
true, I shall not need a better recommenda
tion to fact-loving readers, to interest them in
the scenes which I am about to describe, and
which occurred in the land where flowers
bloom the live-long year, and the soft fall of
snow is seldom or never seen on its eternally
flower-crowned banks.
The sun had just risen, and was casting
its early beams across the still waters of the
Ashley river. A merry group of young peo
ple were watching the manoeuvres, and wait
ing for the signal, of four negro oarsmen,
who were arranging the tackling of a tow
boat that was to convey the party to their
destination. To the eyes of a Northerner,
the everlasting saunter and slow motions of
the sable tribe would have appeared intolera
ble, but we Southerners have learned to bear
with their inertness, and in some measure, to
copy this, one of their greatest failings.
While the boat is being rowed leisurely
up to the landing, the sun gilding the waters
more brightly, the small, powerless steamers
which ply over our ferrys are in motion, and
the lazy-looking sails of the rice and cotton
schooners flapping the night-dew from their
shrouds, while the distant sounds from the
awaking city reach the ear like one great
voice, we will reconnoitre the party on the
shore. We were all young, happy and gay ■>
anu were Bound on a Christmas frolic for the
country residence of Air. Drayton, who had
opened his heart and his house to please his
beloved nephew and niece, and had commis
sioned them to invite whom they would to a
Christmas gathering.
The party consisted of Lucy and Henry
Drayton, our young host and hostess, Bell
Allston, whose gay laugh and mirthful coun
tenance shed a light around her —Gertrude
Aliddleton, whose exquisite and gentle beau
ty rendered her almost too angelic for com
panionship with earthly creatures such as
we —and Richard Motte, a handsome aris!o
crat, who loved the light of a cigar better
than the-soft beam of a “lady’s eye,” and
whose boast was, that he was the devoted
slave of the whole world of women. I must ;
not forget Air. Lcring, fresh from Yankee I
land, a noble-hearted Northerner, who looked, 1
however, with some distrust upon our pro- j
ceedings, particularly as he was the object of |
many a joke unheard-of in the regions from j
which he had come, or myself, dear reader, j
whom ycu shal 1 feel better acquainted with
at the end of this “ower true tale.”
At last, with a great deal of shouting and
merriment, we were safely ensconced in our
floating palace, which consisted of a rough
and genuine country boat, into which we
were introduced by our four stout oarsmen.
Striking up one of their beautiful and pecu
liar songs, with a harmonious chime for a
chorus, ihey soon, with their vigorous strokes,
left the city far behind, and when nought but
the woods and sky were around us, we all
joined in their rude chaunt, much to their as
tonishment; but they only showed their white
teeth the more, or uttered their expressive
Ki! between the verses —a sound which con
veys more to a Southern ear than the most
elaborate sentence. Who can hear the beau
tiful impromptu verses which arise from the
chief boat singer—the negro improvisator —
without imagining that genius of some kind
slumbers in his untaught mind I One re
markable trait about their singing is, that it
is almost impossible to follow or remember
the melody; it gushes out like the intricate
music of some instrument yet to be discov
ered, in the harmony of sounds.
The gentlemen yielded us the apartment
they styled the cabin , in which, like the cages
for the criminals of old, we could neither
stand nor recline, for the size of the boat pre
vented the erection of a more capacious shel
ter from rain or heat. Fancy us, then, float
ing along the picturesque Ashley, with five
hours in prospect, before we should reach
Oak Grove, our destination. One might have
judged that eating was to form our chief oc
cupation, from the provisions that accompa
nied us; and it is quite certain, that we de
tected Bell Allston, quietly abstracting cer
tain tempting looking sandwiches from one
of our well-loaded baskets, long before lunch
time. Os course, we all cried treason, and in
conveying the eatables to a more secluded
corner, it was natural that we should wish,
with woman’s failing, to see the veritable ar
ticle which so tempted our erring companion,
and it was very natural, too, that seeing was.
not believing, and that tasting was; and so,
in a few moments, a part of our lunch was
demolished, and we certainly did not get the
credit of being abstemious young ladies. —
But then the boatmen had their share, and
they sung, after their repast, more lustily
than ever.
•* *
After a while, we grew restless, and the
male portion of our party were transferred
into the so-called cabin, which we had digni
fied by the cognomen of the Procrustean bed,
and while they occupied this classic ground,
we took their places. Bell Allston, with fun
and frolic in her looks, attempted with her
small hands to ply an oar, and Lucy Dray
ton. who most certainly must have consider
ed us ogres in appetite, continued at intervals
to press upon us her delightful viands, while
Gertrude Aliddleton, with her eyes of blue,
reflecting heaven, shaded them from the too
much light with her hand, or drank in the
beauty of the air, the skies, the sea—caught
at each passing object of interest, with a soul
always alive to the beautiful—watched the
water-duck as it flew far above the reach of
our companions’ guns ; or shuddered when a
true aim brought down an unconscious bird,
which floated dead on the stream, with its
purple and gold feathers glistening in the
sun, and the red blood welling from its wound.
Alany times, too, did she turn from her sketch
book, to join in the not very witty or wise
jest, revealing by her smile of exquisite sym
pathy, that the chords of her mind were
strung to blend as well with the heaven above
her, as the earth beneath.
The character of the scenery was peculiar
and beautiful; now we glided through nar
row openings, too small to admit of the usb
of oars, over which, the green boughs hung
so low, that we were obliged to stoop to the
level of the sides of the boat, passing through
sometimes in deep silence, occasioned by the
gloom and delicious quiet of the spot, and as
often littering shouts of laughter at the dis
appearance of a veil caught in the spreading
branches, or the dislodgement of a hat from
some dignified head.
Oh, those merry peals of joy—they come
over my senses like the remembered fragrance
of a flower, or a strain of sweet music, stand
ing out fiom the mists of time like a picture
that has been seen and mst forgotten. And
then the wild flowers that we gathered to
twine around our bonnets or in our flowing
hair, fading almost as soon as culled, llow
VOLUME I. —NUMBER 44.
we tried the patience of our boatmen, by our
continual delays, to pluck some exquisite
blossom which we could reach with our
hands from the boat, until the warning of “*I
decla, m’yong missis,’ de time fly, de day
gwine, and Oak Orobe is fudder yet,” came
totally unheeded upon our cars. Our bark
pursued its course, however, surely but slow
ly reaching the goal, (would that our lives
had glided along as peacefully,) when a cheer
from the landing at the Grove, and an an
swering one from us, told us that we were
seen and welcomed. The landing scene was
so picturesque, that to pass it over without
describing it would be impossible. The first
object was Mr. Drayton, looking the wel
come which is so delightful to the eyes of an
expected guest. He was, in appearance, fho
rouglily a gentleman of the old school, with
many a bow and flourish, and with a joke al
ways on his lips, which sent the warm blood
coursing to a maiden’s cheek. I verily be
lieve that his whole notion of a woman’s du
ly was, that she should fall in love, be fallen
in love with, and be married. One could not
but admire him, as he stood with his'grey
locks floating in the breeze, and his noble
form bent forward, eager with expectation—
for lie always enjoyed the society of the
young and happy.
Behind him were a crowd of sable indi
viduals, all eagerness to wish the new-comers
“Alerry Christmas,” and to participate in the
fun and frolic that such an influx of young
people must bring. They were all well and
warmly clad, and many a variegated woollen
cap was tossed into the air, while the women
made reverential courtesies low to the ground.
On each side was a line of immense oaks,
whose over-reaching branches met, and show
ed that many years had passed since they
were acorns under ground. Seats were plac
ed at intervals along the avenue under this
canopy, over which the drooping and melan
choly moss hung its graceful pall. The ave
nue extended about a quarter of a mile, from
whence you emerged into an open rice-field,
which, at the time we speak of, was furrow
ed and bare. Then* came a short walk
through a grove of pine, and finally a beau
tiful and neatly kept garden, from which the
noble mansion of Oak Grove was seen in all
I its grandeur. Immediately before the house,
! a sloping lawn appeared, covered with a few
: fruit and forest trees.
But to return to the new comers. At the
: first touch of the boat at the shore, Henry
Drayton sprang forward and was about to
ofFer to guide Gertrude Aliddleton over the
plank, when her cousin, Richard Alotte, rais
ed her slight form in his arms, and carried her
over, placing her, covered with blushes, by
Mr. Drayton’s side.
“Ah,’’.said he, “blushes and bridals ever
accompany each other; but see, one cheek
is more rosy than the other, and the pale one
must have an old bachelor’s welcome,” where
upon, he bestowed upon her a salute so hear
ty,* that it gave us an earnest of what we, in
our turn, would have to expect.
Henry Drayton looked on in moody silence,
and walked into what* would eventually be
his own domain, with the bearing of a lord.
Bell Allston followed, disdaining all aid—at
first imitating the proud step of her predeces
sor, and then, with one bound, clearing the
intervening space, like the fawn of her own
wild woods. Air. Drayton was opportunely
on the spot, he said, to save her from de
struction, and with open arms to receive her;
but Bell took both his hands in her own, and
appeared by her words to be so much more
than overjoyed at seeing him, that he was
diverted from bestowing upon her lair cheek