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SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE: •’ ‘’ * * “ • ** • ( V m * * • * • A WEEKLY JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, SCIENCE AND ART. WM. ( . RICHARDS, Editor. ©riginat floctn). For the Southern Literary Gazette. TO UNA-BELLE. BY WILLIAM E . DAVIS. Like a ray of Heaven’s own light Thy beauteous image bless’tl my sight, And traced upon my captive heart, An impress which can ne’er depart; And now, through day and dreamy night, It yields to me some frc h delight, And grants lor aye the magic power To pluck sweet buds of joy each hour. *5 • • f > 1 bless the day when first thy lace — When first thy matchless maiden grace Shone in sweetness o’er my way, And seemed to make the world more gay ; For now all things appear to me BedeoVd with beauty caught from thc'e, And Time rolls on h : s happy hours— Like spring tide airs perfum’d with flowers. My heart indeed were hardest stone, Lid it not melt before thy throne, And feel that every smile from thee Was like a Fairy’s gift to me ; And that thy words, which thrill and, along, Were like FLde's sweetest song. Oh ! again, m iy‘st thou enchmt my gaze, Ami like a sun-beam cheer my days. Columbia, S. C., January, 131?'. mrrr ■ mm— in i 11n■■■!i. -n~nr.irarraMnwmßrnwwrr l ! l Popular £alcs. For the Southern Literary Gazette. MEMORY AND HOPE: AN ALBUM SKETCH. BY W M , E . DAVIS. Ev elruaiv xpi] rov<; oofyovo ex £LV Uiot’. [Eukiimdes. “ The wise with hope support the pains of life.” “ Spcs tutissiina calls.” “In Heaven is our safest hope.” A lovely maiden was seated on the bank of a beautiful stream. Around her, blooming in magnificent profusion, were wild flowers of every description, in form and color. A noble tree spread the graceful foliage of its spiral branches above her, and screened her from the brightrays of a morning’s sun. The leaves of waving shrubbery, entiellised with a fringe-like vine, cast their shadows from the hanks upon the water beneath ; and, as the soft breeze went whispering by, it gave to the glassy surface of the ring-like eddies the magic appearance of a dancing picture. And, ever and anon, as the maiden cast the soft glance of her “ sweet hazel eye” upon the'brook, and saw her own image reflected in the liquid mirror, she would smile, con scious that she was the most beauteous ob ject among all the charming creations theie displayed. But the smile would quickly flit away, and a look of sadness w ould succeed it. Why was this so ? She was surpassing-, ly beautiful; she was more than admired; her gifts were queen-like, and hundreds sighed in vain for the same good fortune. Still the maiden was not happy. Even now she played truant from the walks of elegance and luxury, to seek contentment and tran quility amid the wild freshness of nature. Here no lovers would pursue to offer at her shrine the mere fashionable incense of flatte ry. Such is human nature! Those who pos sess, are not unfrequently discontented in their satiety ; and those who have not, sigh for better fortunes. Were the gifts of men meted to them in proportion to their giatitmle and their deserts, how few would be their blessings! If man’s felicity depended solely upon his own power and judgment, howdanv would be his fate ! ATHENS, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, APRIL 21, 1549. There sat that favored maiden, brooding in j discontent over the golden destinies of her life. Two forms approached her; they were those of Memory and Hope. “ Maiden,” said they, “we come to dispel thy pensive mood ; but, as we toil in oppo site directions, choose thou one of us for thy ! companion.” Hope then smiled, and showed to her a bright and glowing picture of the future. Upon it was portrayed, in varied hues, a long array of coming years, eaMi displaying 1 scenes of pleasure and of joy; but a form : would intervene, and dim the brightest ima ges; yet Hope still smiled, and waited for an answer. “What is that,” inquired the maiden, “which obscures thy beauties?” “Uncertainty,” replied Hope. “Then let it depart,” exclaimed the impe rious fair one, “and give me certainty in its 1 stead.” “For that thou must strive, thyself.” “Thou may*st.go, Hope,” cried the maid en; “thou art, indeed, deceitful.” Memory now came forward, and unfolded her map of the past. Here and there, were marked upon it the scenes of many a pleasant hour. Here, some wished-for object was ob tained — there, some friend was met with; here , was a day of school-girl glee and frolic — there, the social charm of some sweet winter eve ; here, was somebrilliant festal meeting — there, was achieved sorrie.iriumph of her beau- | ty; here, some dreadful mishap was eliminat ed — there, some pleasant marvel was first discovered. The maiden archly shook her lovely head, smiled twice as archly, and said : “This is all delightful, but I see upon the secret map some dark spots.” “Upon those we can cast the veil of timed’ whispered Memory, “and merely rove where all is sweet and pleasant.” The maiden was charmed ; her temper was like an April morn—sometimes a passing cloud, and then a brilliant sunshine: now 1 was the sun-shine, and she broke forth into song: “Bright, gladsome learns, ave darting free, My heart is lull of glee ; Sweet, joyous thoughts, remain with me, And let me merry be. i Now, brightly shines the morning’s sun, And clouilless is the day ; Brook, breeze, and bird, in music one, Raise, now, their coral lay. So’t zephyr fans, coquettishly, The roses’ tinted bloom ; And violets wait, most lavishly, Their sweetness in perfume. So, now I'll smile and sprightly sing, With spirits blithe and gav ; And cave away I’ll lightly fling, In honor of this day. Oh ! radiant is the skyey blue, Cheerilv smiles the morn ; And I will sport ’till evening’s dew Be-diamonds mead and lawn.” The maiden was happy, now, and cried. “Sweet Memory, thou art mine.” And, as lightly as a young gazelle, she tripped a'ong the enameled hank, and, still singing, gath ered flowers —until, when heated by the sun’s bright beams, she bore her gem-like spoils beneath the tree, and formed a glorious many colored couch; and there, lulled by t|ie cool gurgling water, and by the clear silvery notes of carolling birds, she fondly dreamed of by gone times. Thus Memory triumphed. When pleasure beckons, timeseenls to lin ger; when evils are to come, time seems to fly. Still, it lingers not —it hastens noi; for all, its pace is ever equal: but, when it is past, it then really is as short as the orange colored twilight of a summer’s eve. So our maiden found it ; and, as shoit a* the past seemed to her, so must her history now be. Her youth had flown, and with it her beauty; her flatterers had forsaken her, and her fortunes had been swepj away. She now had real cause of sorrow', and that sor row would, at times, extort tears. Two forms approached her : they were those of Memory and Hope “ Lady,” said they, “we come to comfort thee, but w r e labor even further apart than we didin former days; so choose thou one of us.” Hope now held forth a picture which dif fered from the former. The golden hues were gone, but milder, softer tints, adorned the vista of approaching years: the scenes, placid and serene, might w’ell cheer the even ing hours of life; but still a form would rudely interpose, and tarnish each ray-like charm. “Ah!” sighed the lady, “ who can depend on tlice ? Oh, Hope! ever smiling, yet ever fallacious—uncertain and full of uncertain ties—l cannot trust to ihce !” Memory again spread before her gaze the map of the past, and, though dark spots had multiplied, the bright ones shone with inten ser lustre, even as stars are brighter when surrounded by dark clouds. Here and there , shone some sweet sunny spots. Here, was some delightful instance of a father's love ; there, was some sweet mark of a mother’s care; here, hal a proud son of genius bowed, and bestowed upon her some splendid gems of thought; there, had some friend evinced a fond attachment; here, were plans for merry making; there, first she owned her maiden love; here, was the marriage-day; and there, were scenes of married life. These were all delightful; and, as they passed before her mind’s eye, she was beguiled into a smile, and cried, “ Sweet Memory, thou art plea sant!” Memory again had triumphed. A sense of comparative indigence demands a large share of philosophy to support it. None feel the want of wealth so much as those who have once enjoyed it. Disease, under any combination of circumstances, is a hard infliction ; but. when matched with age, not unusual, they arc a sadly mated pair. The hour of death will cause even the best prepared to look with solicitude upon the past, and with anxiety, though mingled with trust, upon the future. To the unprepared, it brings a thousand apprehensions. These remarks apply to the subject of our sketch. She had been wealthy, and, through her own folly, had grown poor. Taught by many a serious deprivation, she had discov ered the folly of her former murmurings. In age, she learned how great had been the blessings of health, and, racked by the jiains of disease, she looked with regret upon the past. Stretched upon a bed of sickness, she arrived at that trying hour, which seemed to her the last which would connect her with this world. Even in adversity, she had lived for self and the things of time : now, howev er, that she was about to enter into eternity, what had she to sustain her? Where could she find an anchor for the soul ? There that fragile mortal lay—helpless, miserable, ha rassed, and pain-stricken. Two forms approached her; they were those of Memory and Hope. “Poor lady,” said they, “we again wait on thee; choose thou one of us.” Memory opened her map ; but how cheer less was it now ! The brightest spots seemed small and worthless; they were things of time, and lime was nearly gone; it had little power, now: the veil was rent asunder, and each dark spot was there depicted with terri ble and unerring energy of expression. In fact, they seemed to grow beneath the gaze, VOLUME 1. —HUMBER 49. and to combine intoone united sheetof gloomy and sombre hue. The dismal view was keenly harrowing; cold beads of death-like dew formed over the clammy forehead ; the poor creature shut het eyes, and shrieked out: “Oh! Memory! I would that thou coiildst leave me ! 1 ’ Hope kindly touched her, and sweetly smiled upon her. “I will show thee no picture, now, of time,” said she, “ but, if thou wilt let me, I can display a brighter and more consoling one.” “Hope! Hope!” murmured the sick wo man, “thou art all I have. Oh! leave ine i not.” “I will not,” whispered Hope. “Strive thou to follow me: I will lead thee to reli gion’s portals ; enter in ; I will then brighten into faith, and thou wilt then find promises of sweeter joys than ever thou hast dreamed : <#•” Uncertainty may dim the things of time; in eternity all is fixed and certain ; but even in this world, Hope has led to many bright realities, which, had she not been trusted, would have been unwon and unenjoyed.— I The sick woman discovered all these truths. In the day and through the night, she com muned with Hope. She was led where she found all ways “were ways of pleasant ness,” and all paths were “paths of peace.” Soothed by wondrous promises, she found tranquility; and this, alone, will sometimes give strengthit did so, now, and, with strength, came returning health. She arose from that bed of sickness a renewed and bet ter being. Hope had triumphed. Memory and Hope stood together, and Memory said to Hope: “Even when my map of the past is marked with good deeds, it is insufficient; without good deeds, it is hateful. Thou may’st lead to good deeds, and also brighten into faith; thou .art the better of the two.” Thus Hope’s triumph was complete. It is wonderful how every thing around us takes its complexion from the cast of ourown minds and tempers. To the bitter and dis contented, all things seem disgusting and un satisfactory. To the benevolent and good, the world, in spite of darkness, cruelty and crime, seems full of pleasant things; under all circumstances, there is something to soothe and to cheer them. This is confined to no sphere nor condition of life; it is a treasure planted by a God of love in each human heart, and can be used, if one will only mine and work it. We meet with ingratitude and faults, and we increase the evil by our own unthoughtful conduct. Pursue any other course, and how the world will change! In lieu of a frown, we may win a smiley in place of misfortune, success may yield her crown; and often, instead of an adder, we may find a dove. If we are brightened unth in ourselves, all things will brighten around | m ‘ So our aged matron found it. She now lived for others, too; and, as she was pleas ant in herself, things were pleasant to her. Here, was a pleasure once unknown ; there, an amusement once unthought of; here , . was a comfort long unused; there , was a blessing just discovered. And thus she passed her cheerful and contented days, loved and cherished through a green old age; and, when she sunk into the sleep of death, a smile which lingered upon her time-worn features showed bow calm and gentle had been the change. She was loved, and mourn ers dropped the tear of grief upon the grave’s j fresh sod. But Faith \va3 there, and asked: