Newspaper Page Text
4
LITERARY.
WILLIAM W. MANN, Gdltor.
The Southern Field and Fireside
IS PUBLISHED EVEBV SATURDAY.
TERMS—S2.OO a year, invariably in advance. All j
Postmasters are authorized agents.
TRAVELING AGENTS:
Mrs. N. L. Dosaimm,
Charles Pebble.
.Toiin L. Stockton,
W. H. Crane,
W. T. Beau..
L. R. White. I
Each Traveling Agent has a written authority to col
lect and receipt for subscriptions, signed by the Proprie
tor, and his signature verified by the Mayor of the city
of Augusta, with the seal of the city attached.
SATURDAY MAY lss# -
SALUTATORY.
The Proprietor presents to the public the first
number of The Southern Field and Fireside,
without comment as to its merits. It must
speak for itself to that public, and say how near
it approaches tho fulfillment of the expectations
created by the Prospectus. From it I here quote
a paragraph :
“The Southern Field and Fireside will
combine the useful and tho agreeable. It will
furnish the Southern former information useful
in every field he cultivates, and the Southern
family choice literature, the offspring of South
ern intellect, worthy of welcome at every fire
side. It will be, in all respects, a first class
paper—on a scale of expenditure more liberal
than has yet been attempted in the South, and
designed to rival in its merits the most distin
guished of the North.”
It will, possibly, be spoken of as an enterprise
“ That roars so loud, and thunders in the index,”
and the present number may fall short of the
promises thus held out. But arrangements are
in progress to enhance the interest of each suc
ceeding number, and cause them to lie looked
for with an increasing avidity. Articles will
appear from time to time from Southern writers
of the highest literary repute. An earnest of
this we furnish in the present number; for in its
columns will be found contributions from several
established favorites.
But to fill these columns with the writings
solely of established favorites, would be to fail,
in part, in one of the leading aims of this paper.
Tliat aim is to foster and bring forward latent
talent, and open to those as yet unknown to the
literary world, the path to future success and
distinction.
The present number takes a step in this direc
tion, by presenting creditable specimens of the
abilities of several young writers who have yet
a reputation to make. There are many yet to
be brought forward. They, and those already
introduced, will strive on, and strive ever, for
the smiles and favor of the reading public, their
motto being, as is that of the proprietor of The
Southern Field and Fireside.
“EXCELSIOR.”
James Gardner.
i— »
£5?" IVe send forth to-day the initial number
of the Southern Field and Fireside, lielieving that
it realizes the expectations which the prospectus
authorized, and with increased confidence that
there is a prosperous future before us. The pub
lisher and proprietor has acted upon his convic
tion that the literary resources of the .South are
ample, and that they only await the opportu
nity for development offered by such enter
prises as that proposed by him in the establish
ment of this paper, to promptly appear, and re
lieve us from the mortifying dependence upon
the North under which we have hitherto lain.
He expressed his assurance that there would be
found in our midst much “latent talent” that
should be uncovered, dormant talent that should
be awaked, and nascent talent “ worthy to be
fostered ” which, if encouragingly taken by the
hand and judiciously counseled in its incipient
efforts, would give fine promise now. and realize
fairest expectation soon.
We share —what intelligent observer does not ?
—this belief of Mr. Gardner in the existence
abundantly at the South of the literary elements:
and we feel with him—what patriotic Southerner
does not ?—the humiliation and the evils of our
accepted dependence upon another section—a
dependence only the more mortifying in that it
is not necessary. Intelligent individual enter
prise, supported with liberality and firmness by
the Southern public, would speedily effect our
emancipation, and convert sneering contempt for
“Southern literature” and Southern literary
ability, into a cordial respect. It is time, it is
high time, that this change were effected.
Hitherto, we hear it whispered, literary uu
dertakings at the South have proved signal fail
ures. Enterprises, equally patriotic in their con
ception with tills of Mr. Gardner, as earnest
qnd as honest, maintained too, some of them.
wNh a brilliant ability that deserved liberal sup
port, have not received it. They have suc
cumbed before the public indifference or recipi
ents of public sympathy, in- most meagre and
disheartening measure, survive to enliven and
instruct comparatively small circles of apprecia
tive readers. But desjute this unpromising past,
we have not lost faith in the future: and we are
almost persuaded that hereafter our Southern
Field and Fireside will be reemred to as the first
well-established literary success, iu the form of
a literary paper, south of the Potomac. We
perceive, in the Field and Fireside, elements of
success which have been wanting to all previous
undertakings of the sort. The publisher is de
termined that his paper sliall deserve to lie a
welcome guest in every family of the South,
from Maryland to Texas; and to commence with
the first number, as if it were so already. lie
means to deserve this success from the begin
ning, and to keep his paper up to the mark,
working and waiting till he-achieves it. He be
lieves that the Southern public will soon appre
ciate Ills exertions, and that its favor will soon
reward him.
As for the editor, his duties will be modest,
ftx rnWTMEMM VXBO
, Lon* COBMICK,
William Glare.
W. M. Ki'Sbkli,
We Bottom.
Edward A. Hill.
| K. A Bee*.
unobtrusive, and. as he already perceives, suffi
ciently laborious. But he promises the friends
of the enterprise that lie will not spare himself.
Whatever of aliility lie has shall lie devotedly
theirs, while the Literary dejiartnient remains in
his charge. He does not propose'to supply the
j weekly table over which he presides with many
viands of his own preparation: but he will take
care that nothing but what is sound and whole
some, nutritious and well-prepared, shall be
served at his lioard. If the fastidious epicure
in Literature is not delighted with every thing
that may lie spread before liiih, he shall find as
little as possible to offend.
——--
To Correspondents.
The communication of One who knows all about
ye obi Georgia State, is inadmissible.
The Firemen, by W. B. A., is rejected. Also,
Lines to Sister Mrs. Hetnans, \yy the same.
The Old Cob Pipe behind the Clock. Accepted
with pleasure. It is decidedly good. Dear
Woman's Health, by the same writer, we would
rather not publish.
The Lost rieiad. Our fair correspondent has
sent us some quite spirited lines, which we are
obliged—though with regret —to decline. Their
morality, we think, is not unimpeachable. We
were quite shocked at the writer's confession —
M W© do only lack occasion
To be guilty of like slips.”
A Mother's Love is under consideration.
Letters from my Log Cabin. No. 1 has come
to liand —glad to receive it. Not yet read, but
will lie soon.
The three poems'by “R. H. R ” we are sorry
that we cannot find room for. The poems show
a remarkable talent for versification, and a deci
ded tendency towards poetry on the part of the
writer. We do not know her age. If she is
seventeen, or under, we would advise her to cul
tivate her poetic talent very carefully.
The Ball at 8., by W. W. Turner. This
graphic sketch will have place in our columns as
. soon as we get through with “ Jack Hopeton.”
What the Moon Shines On —a poem by Miss
Annie Blount—will appear soon.
To Edward. —Pray take back your ten verses.
We think no better of them because they were
written in ten minutes. Spend ten hours on
them—write them again, and then re-write
them—keep them a month, and then, perhaps ,
we’ll give them place in the Field and Fireside.
But we don’t promise. Cicero and Horace
were not afraid of the labor limat ac mora. Nor
is the Everett of to-day. Why should you be ?
Let us, now that we are upon the subject, and
once for all, say, that we will not, from fear,
favor, or affection, admit off-hand trash, or la
bored stupidity, into the poetical department of
the Field and Fireside. Rather than so, we’ll
publish “selected" poetry all the year round.
We will not, of course, require the highest order
of excellence; but there must be positive merit,
or, if the writer be very young, good promise.
We mean that admission into our columns shall
be. and shall lie deemed, an honor.
The Stomach, by R. H. Nisbet, is received, ;
and will appear very soon. t
Sadie. —Her communications are received and J
will appear—one of them in our next.
The Two Fathers, by J. A. Turner, has been j
received, with pleasure, and shall have prompt
attention.
Several favors from Silajl Grey are also on
hand.
Books and Authors, on hand, and will soon
have due consideration.
American Literature, by J. A. T., with other
articles, gladly acknowledged.
We have also a package, doubtless containing
many good tilings of Herbert, the English au
thor, lately deceased.
Two communications, from the author of A
Dream of Locust DeU; one from W. W. T.; and
The Early Settlers [of Georgia, from S. F. M.—re
ceived just as we were going to press.
Correspondents will please henceforth address
their contributions and all communications, re
lating to the Literary department of the Field
and Fireside, to its Editor.
i»i
OUR CONTRIBUTORS.
The desire was general among our corps of
contributors to make their appearance in the
first number of The Southern Field and Fireside.
However agreeable to us, it was impossible to
gratify all. Many are necessarily disappointed.
In their disappointment we share; for we have
much yet to publish that will adorn our columns
and please our readers. It will not lose in in
-1 terest by delay.
In our amiable desire to please as many of our
contributors of prose fictions as possible, we
may have done temporary injustice by publish
’ ing too meagre a portion of several stories. In
aiming at variety, we may have succeeded only
in tantalizing, while seeking to please, our read
ers. To all of them we quote the old Spanish
proverb, which being translated saith:
“Patience; and there will be an end of all
tilings.” *
THE BOY PREACHER.
Who has not heard of him ?—that precocious
youth of seventeen years, glowing with celestial
fire, and endowed with a genius as bright as his
enthusiasm in the cause of his Redeemer—who
■ has held audiences spell-bound by his eloquence,
and moved hundreds to repentance ?
We speak of Crammoxd Kennedy. Sojourn
ing for a time in Georgia for his health, he wrote
the poem, “Man is Immortal,” which will be
. found in our columns. *
——lll
■ hereafter there shall ap
r of this paper, carefully
: foreign and domestic in
?ral other particulars; ar
i to increase its usofulness
ance, sliall be intro duced.
le of contents will bo pre
pared, and published at the end of every half
THE WAR IN EUROPE.
We had intended to write for the lirst num
ber of the Field and Fireside a carefully pre
pared column of comment and speculation upon
the subject which heads these remarks. It is
to be the prominent matter of interest anil of
discussion in this country and in hurope, for
many months, perhaps for several years to come.
The war just commenced is likely, wc think, to
agitate the world more deeply than any event
which lias occurred since the fall of tho first Na
poleon: deranging the commerce, the politics,
the civil institutions of nations, and leading
probably to a thorough remodeling of the map
of Europe. We desired, upon this occasion, to
develope at some length our views of the causes,
latent and ostensible, which have brought two
great military despotisms into conflict on the
fields of Italy, and of the ends, real as well as
pretended, which it is believed the principal ac
tors propose to attain. But our purpose must
be adjourned for the present, promising our
selves to resume it in a future number. To-day
we content ourselves with the bare statement of
facts, which will enable our readers to form a
correct idea of the present position of affairs,
and acquaint them with the avowed motives
and purposes of the several belligerants.
From a very early date in modem history—
almost from the commencement of the mon
archies—France and Austria have been rivals,
struggling for exclusive influence and power
over tlie peninsula of Italy. The struggle has
been marked with varying success. French
and Austrian influence alternately predominated,
the power being always shared between the
rivals more or less equally, till the conquests of
the first French Republic, at the close of the
last century, utterly ejected the Austrians from
the peninsula, and established the French domi
nation. This domination, confirmed under Bo
naparte, continued till the overthrow of the
French Empire in 1815. Upon the occurrence
of that event, the French, in their turn, were
driven from Italy, and Austrian influence be
came exclusively predominant. The map of Eu
rope was re-made, and the ancient order of
things, witli some modifications, re-established
in Italy. The Bourbon Prince, with decidedly
Austrian private and political sympathies, was
restored to tho throne of Naples, at the south
ern extremity of the peninsula. Next, on the
north, came the Roman States, politically a des
potic government —a hard and an odious one—
its sympathies always Austrian whenever the
French pressure allowed their free manifesta
tion. North of Rome were re-established the
Ducliies of Tuscany, Lucca, Modena, and Par
ma, whose Princes were all bound closely to
Austria by family ties, or by that stronger tie,
found in a common principle of absolute govern
ment, based on the “divine right of Kings.”
Savoy und the Genoese Republic were awarded
to Piedmont, forming, with the Island of Sar
dinia, the present kingdom of that name. Lom
bardy, of which Milan is tho capital, and the
Venetian States, wsrc handed over to Austria,
of wltieh empire they now form a part.
The seeds of civil and political liberty, sowrn
broadcast in Italy by the first French Republic,
have taken root, and sprang up over all Italy.
The ideas of national independence and of a
united Italy havo spread widely, and are be
coming increasingly popular among the masses.
These circumstances, in connection with the
really oppressive and odious character of all the
Italian governments, except that of Sardinia,
have produced for many years a chronip revolu
tionary tendency in Italy. The Princes have
never felt safe, and have only been safe in view
of their standing armies. Weak, in their small
territories and revenues, the Italian Princes have
all learned to look to Austria for support upon
their thrones. On the other hand, the revolution
ary masses, democratic, republican, or iu favor o!
constitutional monarchy have, throughout Italy,
their eyes turned upon Victor Emmanuel, the
the constitutional King of Sardinia. This Prince
has been smitten with the ambition and the
hope to become the King of a united, free, and
independent Italy: and has proclaimed himsell
the “ Captain” of the revolutionary and liberal
party. Austria, for many years, has been si
lently but aetivoly riveting her power upon It
aly. She has made treaties with Naples, bind
ing its King never to grant constitutional gov
ernment to his people; and similar treaties with
Modena, Parma, and the other less powers, giv
ing to Austria the right of garrisoning fortresses
within their territories, upon the plea that il
those principalities were disquieted by revolu
tionary movements, Austria's own tenure of the
Lombardo-Venotian kingdom would be insecure.
Austria has, for many years, occupied with her
troops a portion of the Roman States.
The Emperor of France disclaiming all views
of personal ambition in connection with Italy,
professing to be actuated only by his strong hor
ror of the grinding military despotism which
Austria has imposed upon her own provinces in
northern Italy, and which she aids and abets in
central and southern Italy, has protested against
the actual condition of things, and the policy of
Austria. Sympathizing with Sardinia, he de
clares the Austrian occupation injurious to Italy',
preventive of the development of that country,
and virtually violative of the treaties of 1815. Sar
dinia, backed by France, demands that the Aus
trian occupation of the Duchies, Qf Roman ter
ritory, and of the Sardinian frontier, cease forth
with, and that Austria consent to exercise no
more or other control over Italian affairs than
the other great Powers. Austria has refused,
alledging that her Italian policy is necessary for
her own security. The affair has been in the
hands of Diplomacy for five or six years. France
and Sardinia proposed in 1856 that it should be
brought before the European Congress. Austria
declined this. Diplomatic negotiation continued.
The breach between Sardinia and Austria grew
wider. French sympathy with suffering Italy
grew stronger. A Congress, to meet for the set-
tlement of the Italian questioa and to which all
the powers with more or less sincerity assented,
lias failed to meet. An ultimatum of Austria to
Sardinia requiring her to disarm immediately,
has been met by refusal and defiance; the Aus
trian troops have invaded Piedmont, and are
marching on Turin; an army of 80,000 French
are pouring into Italy' by Mt. Cenis and Genoa.
It is commanded in person by the Emperor of
France: and before this, doubtless, thousands of
slain strew the battle-fields of Italy. Perhaps
Marengo itself lying as it does upon the scene of
the present action, has been the theatre of
another bloody drama.
But space and time both foil us. We will re
new the subject at an early day.
—
Late advices from Europe inform us of
the death of three distinguished men whose loss
will be regretted in the walks of Literature and
Science, throughout the civilized world— Alexis
de Tocqueville, Baron Humboldt, and Dr.
Lardxer. Each had achieved a world-wide
reputation; and all of them have many personal
friends in the United States, who will receive
this intelligence of their death with sincere re
gret. Biographic sketches of these illustrious
persons will appear in future numbers of this
paper.
— i-
JgP Preserve all numbers of the Field and
Fireside; for if you do not want them, some
planter, farmer or gardener will for future" ref
erence.
£3P We have a rich repertory from which to
select the contents of our second number. —
Among its attractions will be found a revised
poem of considerable length, The Lost Pleiad,
by W. Gilmore Simms, L. L. D., with an intro
duction by the author. The stories already com
menced, will be continued. Articles in prose, by
Mrs. Ann Cora Ritchie and Madame Octavia
Walton Le Vert, will also have place in our
next, with others, from various sources, which
we would have been glad to press into the pres
ent number, but have found it impossible.
We expect soon to receive weekly letters from
an able Paris Correspondent: and are making
other arrangements by which to obtain regularly
and directly from Europe the latest information,
literary and scientific, political and fashionable,
which would prove interesting and valuable to
any class of our readers.
——i b > ■
[Written for the Southern Field anil Fireside.]
LIKES,
FROM TIIE FRENCH OF HUGO.
The grave to the rose once said—
“ What dost thou do with the tears that are shed
By Aurora o’er thee, pray?”
And thou, with those thou dost safely hide,
Said the roae, “in thy depths—dark, deep, and wide,
From the life of light and day?”
Oh, grave, the rose replies,
“ I make from these tears to rise
A thousand sweets at my nod.”
Says the grave— thy odors die With thee;
But of ev’ry soul that rests with me,
I make an angel for God!
WILUAM CIMMINO WILDE.
New Orleans.
Injustice both to Mr. Wilde and to the French poet
and that the reader may see with what fidelity and ele
gance the translator has rendered into English the pretty
conceit of Victor IIi'GO, we append below the original
conplet from the volume of his poems, entitled Les Voir
Interienres :
La tombe dit a la rose:
—Des pleurs dout l’aube t’ arrose ?
Que fais-tu flour des amours?
La rose dit a la tombe;
—Que fais-tu de-ce qui tombe
I)aus ton gouffre ouvert toujouos?
La rose dit:—tombeau sombre.
De ces pleurs je fais, dans 1’ ombre,
Un parrum il’ ambre et de miel.
La tombe dit:—Flenr plaintive,
De chaque sue qui m’ arrive
Je fais unange ilu ciel!
—
Give a man brains and riches, and he is a
king; give him brains without riches and he is
a slave; give him riches without brains and lie
is a fool.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
MY LITTLE AIMEE.
She sat at my feet, in that dim and quiet room,
with the open book upon her knee, and iier sweet,
earnest eyes fixed lovingly upon its solemn words.
All around and above me stood, in their dark cor
ners, ponderous old volumes filled with worldly
lore and man}’ a quaint device of human thought.
The wisdom of many lands—the poet’s song—
the artist’s dream—the patient toil of the man of
science—the fierce struggle of the warrior for
what the world calls glory—all were there—and
this had been my world!
Had it yielded me the peace I sought!
I looked upon the innocent young head, bowed
down in its sjlent worship, and then far away,
down the long vista, to the green paths of my
happy childhood. My mother's kiss had left its
soft blessing on my brow. My mother’s prayer
had gone up with a trembling trust to the God
of tho fatherless. I remembered it now, and
how I had turned from it all, and gone out into
the strife and turmoil of life, and climbed up the
steep pathways of Fame, and wots the crown. I
went out witli the shining garments of inno
cence, but they had grown dark with the deep
stains of eartliliness and sin. God had given
me an angel to walk with me, “by the way;”
and she had gently led me almost to the gates of
Heaven; but when the golden portals closed on
her, I had wandered back to earth. And now,
a weary old man, I sat alone with the beautiful
memories and fairy visions that I had called Life.
IVas this to be the end of all?
The sunshine came softly through the open
casement, and fell like a diamond shower upon
my little guileless one. It touched, as with a
“sudden glory,” every hue and blossom, and
shone tenderly down into the drooping hearts of
the pale, pure snow drops, that she loved so well.
It sparkled over rock and river, kill and valley.
The little bu-ds poured forth their glad melody,
and the sweet South wind gathered the rich in
cense of perfume and song, and bore it up to
Heaven. But its work was not yet done. It
threw its departing splendor into that darkened
room, and brightened many a recess and forgot
ten nook—pouring its last radiance, like a bap
tismal blessing, alike upon the glad and tlio wea
ry hearted. And as my chastened spirit once
more went up to the mercy seat, beseeching to
“become as a little child,” my Aimee’s eyes lin
gered upon her mother’s Bible, and the sweet
words of peace and pardon, written, as with the
sunbeam, came softly to my heart—“ Come unto
me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and
I will give you rest.”
mr •
[ W ritten for thc.Southern Field and Fireside.]
•BALLAD-AT3BEA.!
V j
BY W. GILMORE SIMMS, ES<J.
L
The jewePd breast of night
Swells calm beyond the breeze —
While, like a binl, we take our flight
O'er wild and lonely seas!
Yet many a prayer is given,
To ward the tempest’s wrath;
And hearts, laid bare to Heaven,
(Dearhearts! sweethearts!)
Send blessings on our path!
IL
One home, I know, in sleeping;
One sweet cottage home!
Ah! there, one heart is weeping
Within a silent room!
Her fancies follow last my flight—
She strains her eyes throughout the dark.
And shuddering, fears, in Btorm and night,
(Sweet heart! fond heart!)
That wild seas wreck my barque!
ill.
Ah, me! how still wo doubt,
Even of the hope possess’d;
As ruby lips will perk and pout,
Though pleased to be caressed!
A sudden doubt, if weeping now,
That loved one watches sad and lone;
A jealous fancy racks my brow—
(Frail heart! false heart!)
Am I forgot as soon as gone?
IV.
We vex our hearts with idle fearsj
For, ah! too well we know how soon
The smile will chase away the tears.
To loving memories such a boon—
And thus we doubt if they are sad.
The distant dear ones whom we fly;
We fancy that each face is glad,
(Vain hearts! false hearts!)
With thoughtless joy in every eye! *
v.
That, through the gay saloon they rove,
■While mirth and music glad the sense;
Hear other lips in speech of love.
To other hearts make recompense;
That, circled by a stranger's arms,
The faithless loved one, shaming both,
To other words of pleading warms—
(Frail heart! false heart!)
And all forgets her plighted troth!
VI
Let me not doubt the maid / love;
Yet, ah! what hours of true delight,
Would I to fortune now forgive,
To know she sorrows through the night!
Hears rising winds with rising tears,
Watches each cloud-wreath through the day,
And in her chamber, pale with fears,
(Sweetheart! dear heart!)
Weeps the slow, weary night aw ay!
Orr Hattrras, Mat, 198-.
tar We happen to know that the portfolio from which
the “Zap of the Sunbeam ” has been with much diffi
culty extracted, contains numerous other lays, sung in
the same pretty strain. We hope soon to see another and
another of them transferred from our correspondent's
portfolio to our own. They arc little “ sunbeams ” them
selves, with which we shall always be glad to illuminate
our columns. Here is an evident talent which has evi
dently been cultivated—for one don't write such verses
without considerable previous practice in versification-
The same remurk is suggested by the beautiful poetical
contribution by Koeisshnus, “A Dream of Heaven,’
which will appear in our next
Our correspondents are aware upon what good authority
folly is charged on him who “lights a candle and puts it
under a bushel.’’ But are they not making “bushels” of
their portfolios? We hope they will use, without delay*
the “candle-stick” which we offer them.
[Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.]
THE LAY OF THE SUNBEAM.
1 lie on the mountains us sweet and as mild,
As a Hose on the breast of an innocent child,
And I hie me way down to the valley below,
As noiseless and fleet as a spirit could go!
I pass thro’ the window all darkened by pain.
To bring back the dreamlngs of gladness again,—
And I lay me down softly the cradle beside,
Like a promise of joy, to the pathway untried!
I'm in the lone attic where never a song,
Os Mnsic or Pleasure would seem to belong—
Yet I throw o’er its darkness a glimmer of light,
So pensive in beauty, we cling to the sight!
My being is varied—l’m up with the day,
But long before evening, I’m passing away—
Yet, changeful and transient. I’m bright to the last.
As a hope in the heart, or a dream in the Past!
I am lovely and loved, for I come from the sky.
Yet dearer to Earth than to Heaven am I!
For I cast the sweet mantle of Peace o’er the mind.
And leave not a token of Sorrow behind!
With my silvery pencil I stroke the blue sea,
And gem the bright waves as they float over me—
On the white beach I make me a pillow to sleep,
But the Oate of the morn ’tis my province to keep,
With the gentlest of brashes I garnish its bars.
And dimmed is the light of the glorious stars—
Then away down the slope of the hill to the plain,
I am oft on my mission of beauty again!
I stay not a moment, for sweet is my play,
With tho dew in the grass, at the opening of day—
And the shadow I leave in my beautiful path.
Like the fading of Autumn, its radiance hath!
I am sent to the heart-stricken mourner below,
Yet a stranger am 1 to the anguish of woe,
No grief have I tasted, no loss have I known,
For I live in the Sunshine —the Sunshine alone!
Yet the track of my falls soft’mid the gloom;
As a smile to a tear, so am I to the tomb.
And aloft thro’ the shade of the Cypress I plant.
My beautiful banner all shining aslant!
I fear not the dark-winged Angel of Death,
Yet I fly from the storm with its pitiless breath—
E'en the glare of the lightning grows faint on the mind,
As I bear my light form, on the wings of the wind,
And speed like a Spirit whose mission is done,
To the “crown of my glory,” the beautiful Sunl
—
Authors. —Men who write well and act ill
resemble the sun. Which, while ft gives light to
inferior bodies, (if we may believe Peyroux de
la Cadroixere) is itself as dark as a pigsty; or,
like the bones of Elijah, which gave life and
breath to another and remained dead themselves.
•— 11 >
Friendship requires action—Love requires not
so much proofs, as expressions of love. Love
demands little else titan the power to feel and to
requite love.—Jean Paul.
Nothing remains so long in the memory as
wrong deeds. They are nettles which cannot
be ploughed out of sight, but will'spring up with
fresh stings at every disturbance.
—
“Pray don’t darn your cobwebs," was Swift's
advice to a gentleman of strong imagination and
weak memory, who was laboriously explaining
himself.