The Central Texian. (Anderson, Tex.), Vol. 3, No. 33, Ed. 1 Saturday, January 17, 1857 Page: 1 of 4
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THE CENTRAL
XIAN.
BY R. A. VAN HORN.
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WBS?SNBBHT 01 ALL 8DBJHJTS—BSB3TB4I. ON NONI."
TERMS—S3 00 IN ADVANCE-
VOL. 3.
ANDERSON, GRIMES COUNTY, TEXAS, JANUARY 17, 1857.
NO. 33.
tv.
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A Diver's Tale.
The life of one who explores the myste-
ries of the sea is not more perilous than
fascinating. The charm of terror hangs
around it, and the interminable succession
of exciting events renders it dear to its
professor. Not to the common diver of
the East, who can remain but for a fraction
•of time beneath the wave and grope fear-
fully among ocean mounds, but to the
adept in the civilized mode of diving, who,
in his pro'ectivft armor may remain sub-
merged for hours, and wander with impu-
nity tor miles along the unknown reg:ons
far below the soa. To him are laid open
the horrors of the watery creation, and he
may gaze upon such scenes as the Arabian
story sells us were presented to the fear-
ful eyes of. Akd&Hah. - To him the most
thrilling occurrences of the upper world
seem frivolous; for in his memory he re-
tains thoughts that may well chill the soul
with dread.
I am a diver—a diver from elioice—and
am proud of my profession. Where is such
courage required as is needed here ? It is
nothtbg to be a soldier ; a diver, however
—but I forbear, I will tell my story, and
leave others to judge concerning it.
An appalling shipwreck occurred, not
long ago, upon the wildest part of the
coast of New Foundland. The tidings of
this calamity reached the ear of thousands,
but, amid the crowd of accidents which
followed in quick succession, it was soon
forgotten. Not by us, however. We found
the vessel had sunk upon a spot where the
water's depth was by no means great, and
that a daring man might easily reach her,
She was a steamer called the Marmion.
and had been seen going down suddenly,
without an instant's warning, by some
fisherman near by. She had undoubtedly
struck a hidden rock, and had thus been
in one moment destroyed.
I spoke to my associates of the plan, and
they approved it. No time was lost in
making the necessary preparations, and a
,hort time beheld us embarked in our
small schooner for the sunken ship. There
were six or us, and we anticipated extra-
ordinary success.
I was the leader, and generally ventured
upon any exploit in which there was un-
common danger. Not that the others
were cowards; on the contrary, they were
all brave men, but I was gifted with a cool-
ness and a presence of mind of which the
others were destitute. As two persons
were needed in order to explore the Mar-
mion, I had selected as my companion, a
young fellow whose steadiness and daunt-
less courage had seTeral times before been
fearfully tested.
It was a calm and pleasant day, but the
southern and eastern horizon looked de-
ceitful. Small, suspicious clouds were
gathered there, ill of aspect, and "sneaking
fellows, regular hang-dog fellows," as my
comrade, Rimmer, remarked to me. Never-
theless, we were not to be put off by a little
cloudiness in the sky, but boldly prepared
to venture.
So deep was the water, that no vestige
of a ship's mast remained above the sur-
face to point out the resting place of the
Marmion. We were compelled, therefore,
to select the scene of operatiou according
to the best of our ability. Down went the
sails of our schooner, and Rimmer and I
put on our diving armor. We fixed on our
helmets tightly, and screwed on the hose.
One by one each clumsy article was ad
justed. The weights were hung and we
were ready.
" It looks terrible blackish, Berton," said
Rimmer to me."
"Oh," I replied gaily, "it's only a little
mist—all right!"
" Ah !" he uttered in a low voice, which
sounded hollow from his cavernous hel-
met.
"All ready," I cried in a loud voice,
which they, however, could not easily dis-
tinguish. Then, making a proper sign, I
was swung over the side.
Down we went, I first and Rimmer close
after me. It did not take a long time for
us to reach the bottom. We found our-
selves upen what seemed a broad plain,
sloping downward toward the south and
rising slightly towards the north. Look-
ing forward, then, a dim, black object
arose, which our experienced eye knew to
be a lofty rock. I motioned to Rimmer
that we should proceed there.
I cannot toll the strangeness of the sen-
sation felt by one who first walks the bot-
tom of the sea.
... "íhere are a thousand objects fitted to
«.--• excite astonishment, even in the mind of
him who has dared the deed a hundred
times. All around us lay the plain, cover-
ed by water, but here the eye cannot pierce
% far away, as in the upper air, for the water
in the distance grew opaque and seemed to
fade away into misty darkness. There was
no sound, except in the incessant gurgle
which was produced by the escape of air
from the breath-valve, and the splash caused
by our passage through the waters. We
walked out at a good race ; for this armor,
which seems so clumsy up above, is excel-
lent below, and offers little inconvenience
to the practiced wearer.
Fishes in crowds were around us. Fishes
•f every."ibape and size met our eyes, no
matte?*where they turned. They sv
swjflly by us; they sported in the water
.... above us; they raced and chased one ano-
4 ' thee in every direction. llore a shoal of
porpoises tumbled along in clumsy gambols;
there a grampus might be seen rising
slowly to the surface; here an immense
number of smaller fish flashed past us;
there some huge ones, with ponderous
forms, floated in the water lazily. Some-
times three or four placed themselves di-
rectly before us, staring at us, solemnly
working working their tails. There they
would remain $ili we came close up to
them, and thee¿ with a start, they would
dart away.
All this time were walking onward, along
the bottom of the sea, while above us, like
a black cloud in the sky, we could see our
boat slowly moving along upon the surface
of the water. And now, not more than a
hundred yards before us, we could see the
towering form of that ebony rock which
had at first greeted our eyes from afar. As
yet we could not be certain that this was
the place where the Marmion had struck.
But soon a round, black object became dis-
cernible, as we glanced at the rocky base.
Rimmer struck niv arm and pointed. I
signad assent, and wo moved on mor#
quickly^ —
A few minutes elapsed; we had come
nearer to the rock. The black object now
looked like the stern of a vessel whose hull
lay there.
Suddenly Rimmer struck me again and
pointed upward. Following the direction
of his hand, I looked up and saw the upper
surface of the water all foamy and in mo-
tion. There was a moment's thrill through
my heart, but it passed over. We were in
a dangerous coudition. A storm was
coming on!
But should we turn back now, when we
were so near the object of our search ?—
Already it lay before us. We were close
beside it. No, I would not. I signified to
Rimmer to go forward, and we still kept
our course.
Now the rock rose up before us, black,
rugged, dismal. Its rough sides were worn
by action of the water, and in some places
were covered bv marine plants and nameless
ocean vegetation. We passed onward, we
clambered over a spur which jutted from
the cliff, and there lay the steamer.
The Marmion—there she lay upright—
with every thing still standing. She had
gone right down, and had settled in such a
position among the rocks that she stood
upright here, just as though she lay at her
wharf. We rushed eagerly along and
clambered up her side. There was a low
moan in the water which sounded warn-
ingly in our ears, and told us of a swift
approaching danger. What was to be done
must be done speedily. We hurried for-
ward. Rimmer rushed to the cabin. I
went forward to descend into the hold. I
descended the ladder. I walked into the
engineer's room. All was empty here—all
was water. The waves of the ocean had
entered, and were sporting with the works
of man. I went inrt) the freight room.—
Suddenly I was startled by an appalling
noise upon the deck. The heavy footsteps
of some one running, as though in mortal
fear, or most dreadful haste, souuded in my
ears. Then my heart throbbed wildly, for
it was a fearful thing to hear, far down in
the silent depths of the ocean.
Pshaw! it's only Rimmer.
I hurriedly ascended the deck, by the.
first outlet that appeared. When I speak
of hurry, I speak of the quickest movement
possible when cumbered with so much
armor. But this movement of mine was
quick; I rushed upward ; I sprang out on
the deck.
It was Rimmer!
He stepped forward and clutched my
arm. lie pressed it with a convulsive
grasp, and pointed to the cabin. I at-
tempted to go there. lie stamped his
foot and tried to hold me back. lie
pointed to the boat, and implored me,
with frantic gestures, to go up.
It is appalling to witness the horror-
struck soul trying to express itself by signs.
It is awful to see these signs when no face
is plainly visible, and no voice is heard. I
could not see his face plainly, but his eyes,
through his heavy mask, glowed like coals
of lire.
"I will go!" I exclaimed. I sprang
irora him. lie clasped hit hands together,
but dared not follow.
Good heavens! I thought, what fearful
thing is here ? What scene can bo so
dreadful as to paralyze the soul of a prac-
ticed diver ? I will see for myself.
I walked forward. I came to the cabin
door. I entered the forward saloon, but
saw nothing. A feeling of contempt came
to me. Rimmer shall not como with me
again, I thought. Yet I was awe-struck.
Down in the depths of the sea there was
only silence—oh, how solemn! I paced
the* long_«r.loon, which had echoed with
the shrieks of the drowning passengers.
Ah, thee are thoughts which sometimes
fill the soul, which are only felt by those
to whom the scenes of sublimity are
familiar. Thus thinking, I walked to the
after-cabin and entered.
Oh, Ood of Heaven ! Had not my hand
clenched the door with a grasp which mor-
tal terror made convulsive, I should have
fallen to. the floor. I stood nailed to the
spot; for there before me stood a crowd
of people, men and women, caught in the
last degtfi struggle by the overwhelming
waters, ¿nd fastened to the spot, each in the
position in which death had found him.
Each one had sprung from his chair at the
shock of the sinking ship, and with one
common emotion, all liad started to the
door. But the waters of the sea had been
too swift for them. Lo! then—some wildly
grasping tho table, others the beams—
others tlie sides of tho cabin—there they
all stood. Near the door was a crowd of
people, heaped upon one another—some on
the floor, others rushed over them—all
seeking madly to gain the outlet. There
was one who sought to clamber over the
table, and still was there, holding on to an
iron post. So strong was each convulsive
grasp, so fierce was the struggle of each
with death, that their hold had not yet
been relaxed; but each one stood and
looked frantically at tho door.
To the door—good God! to me they
were looking ! They were glancing at me,
all those dreadful, those terrible eyes!—
eyes in which the fire of life had been dis-
placed by the chilling gleam of death—
eyes which still glared, like the eyes of a
maniac, with no expression. They froze
me with their cold, icy look. They had no
meaning, for the soul had gone; and this
made it still more horrible than it could
have been in life; for the appalling contor-
tion of their faces, expressing fear, horror,
despair, and whatever else the soul may
feel, contrasting with the cold and glassy
eyes,.made their vacancy yet more fearful,
lie upon seemed iuor« "
than the others ; for his long, black hair
was disheveled, and floating horribly down,
and his beard and moustache, all loosened
by the water, gave him the grimness of a
demon. Oh ! what woe and torture ! what
unutterable agonies appeared in the despair-
ing glance of those faces—faces twisted
into spasmodic contortions, while the souls
that lighted them were wreathing and
struggling for life.
I heeded not the dangerous sea which,
even when we touched the steamer, had
slightly rolled. Down in these awful
depths the swell would not be very strong,
unless it should increase with tenfold fury
above. But it had been increasing though
I had noticed it, and the motion of the
water began to be felt in these abysses.
Suddenly the steamer was shaken and
rocked by the swell. At this the hideous
forms were shaken and fell. The heaps of
people rolled asunder. That demon on the
table seemed to make a spring directly at
me, I fled, shrieking. All were after me,
thought. I rushed out, with no purpose
but to escape. I sought to throw oft* my
weights and arise.
My weights could not bo loosened ; I
f>ulled at them frantically, but could not
oosen them. The iron fastenings had
grown stiff. One of them I wrested off in
my convulsive efforts, but the other still
kept me down. The tube, also, was lying
down still in my passage way through the
machine fooms. I did not know this till I
had exhausted my strength, and almost my
hope, in vain efforts to loosen the weight,
and still the horror of that scene in the
cabin rested upon me.
Where was Rimmer ? The thought
flashed across me. He was not here. He
had returned. Two weights lay near
which seemed thrown off in terrible haste.
Yes, Rimmer had gone. I looked up.; there
lay the boat, tossing and rolling among '
waves.
I rushed down into the machine room,
to go back, so as to loosen my tube. I
had gone through passages carelessly, and
this lay there, for it was uni oiled from
above as I went on. I went back in haste
to extricate myself; I could stay here no
longer; for if all the gold in Golconda
was in the vessel, I would not stay in com-
pany with the dreadful dead !
Back—fear lent wings to my feet. I
hurried down the stairs into the lower hold
once more, and retraced my steps to the
passages below. I walked back to the
place into which I had first descended. It
was dark; a new feeling of horror shot
through me; I looked up; the aperture
was closed !
Heavens! was it closed by mortal hand?
Had Rimmer, in his panic flight, blindly
thrown down the trap-door, which I now
remember to have seen open when I de
scended ? or had some fearful being from
the cabin—that demon who started towards
me—?
I started back in terror.
But I could not wait here; I sprang up
the ladder, and tried to raise the door. L
resisted my efforts. I put my helmeted
head agaiust it and tried to raise it; the
run of the ladder was beneath me, but the
door was not raised ; my tube came down
through it and kept it partly open, for it
was a strong tube, and kept strongly ex-
panded by close wound wire.
I seized a bar of iron and tried to raise
it up, I tried to prize it slightly, but there
was no way to get it up further; I looked
around and found some blocks ; with these
I raised the heavy door, little by little,
placing the block in to keep what I had
gained. But the work was slow and labo-
rious, and 1 had worked a long time before
I had raised it four inches.
The sea rolled more and more. The sub-
merged vessel felt its power and rocked.
Suddenly it wheeled over and lay uporv-its
side.
I ran around to get on the deck above,
to try and lift up the door. But when I
came to the other outlet, I knew it was
impossible for the tube would not permit
it to go so far, and then I would rather
have died a thousand deaths than have
ventured again so near the cabin.
I returned to the fallen door ; I sat down
in despair and waited for death. I saw no
hope of escape. This, then, was to be my
end.
But the steamer gave a sudden lurch,
again acted upon by the power of the
waves. She had balanced upon a rock in
such a way that a slight action of the
water was sufficient to tip her over. She
croaked and groaned, and labored, and
then turned upon her side.
I arose; I clung to the ladder; I pressed
the trap door open, while the steamer lav
with her deck perpendicular to the ground.
I sprung out and touched the bottom of
the sea. It was in good time, for a moment
after the mass went over back again.
Then, with a last effort, I twisted the
iron fastenings of the weight which kept
me down. I jerked it. It was loosewed,
it broke, it fell.
In a moment I began to ascend, and in
a few minutes I was floating on the water;
for the air which is pressed down for the
diver's consumption constitutes a buoyant
mass, which raises him from the sea.
Thanks to heaven ! there was the strong
boat, with my bold, brave men. They felt
mo rising; they saw me, came and saved
me.
Rimmer had fled from the horrid scene
when I entered the cabin, but remained in
the l oat to lend his aid. He never went
down again, but became a sea captain. As
for me, I still go down, but only to vessels
wbpgfof.rews have been saved. It is need-
that the Marmion was never
To the Democracy of the State of
Texas.
Appointed Chairman of the State Cen-
tral Committee, by the last Democratic
Staté Convention, I have been requested
by n>any friends throughout tho State to
call $he attention of the Democratic party
of T xas to the meeting of their next State
Con enlion ordered by the last body, to
take place at Waco on the fourth of May
next* and to urge a general attendance of
the arty at that place.
T eoffices to be filled at the next Au-
gust elections are Governor, Lieutenant-
Governor, and Land Commissioner; also,
two piembers of Congress. It was recom-
meuded by the State Convention of Janu-
ary,:Í856, that separate Conventions for
the nomination of the latter bo also held at
the |san:e time and place.
There can be no question then of the
importance of a general representation of
the party at the Waco Convention, and I
am happy to say that it is deeply felt by
the active friends of the cause in all parts
of our State. Successful heretofore under
our Convention system, we have every rea-
son to sustain it. Indeed, it has effectually
prostrated the petty factions in our State,
adhered to or opposed from merely personal
prejudices, and taught our people to de-
mand higher considerations than these *o
secure their support o£ any man for public
office or trust. In the canvasses of 1855
and 1856, our State Conventions made dis-
tinct issues before the people. A platform
representing the cardinal principles of the
Democratic creed, was placed each year in
the foreground, and in making nominations
and rallying to their support, we alone
sought to maintain the integrity of our
While these remarkable con-
fully used .to cajole any respectable portion
of the Democratic party to abandon the
nominees of their convention. Indeed, the
true Democracy of Texas do not fear the
issue, and will certainly refuse to offer any
emolient in the way of high sounding
names to invoke respect for the great prin-
ciples of their party. The principles**# the
Democracy need not the incense of popular
nrmes to make them palatable or their pro-
fession honorable. The people of Texas
want plain and practicable men to fill their
offices: men familiar with the masses, and
who will interpose a strong aud bold arm
to preserve them from the encroachments
of monied corporations, and save the Trea-
sury from wasteful expenditure; who will
enforce strict accountability in public office,
and who will so conduct the government
white-light taxes shall be imposed, the
cause of education and internal improve-
ments will be substantially aided, and the
State permanently advanced in her career
of prosperity
With such men as our nomineess—stand-
ing upon a common platform—antf whose
antecedents show them to be thorough
party men —it matters not how humble so-
ever their names, these honest and.itrue
Democrats will go before the people suc-
cessfully to bear down all opposition that
may be brought against them by our foes,
whether backed by an independent candi-
date of Democratic or Know Nothing pedi-
gree.
Upon the Democratic Press of the State
fwS9i:mtcTt4u the overwhelming Ui-J^nge of and- -feaW.
> mm I Iaiyi nnlinmr fVin* nln/v nlnn «.i . i . i 1 • * .. ■ . *—'
urnpli of the Democracy, they also clearly
deuonstiated the entire indifference of our
people to the prestige of names or personal
popilarity of men when avowing opposing
poltical sentiments. In thus making men
whdly subordinate to the success of prin-
cipes, the Convention and Caucus sys-
tens, so long endeared to the Democracy
by 'ong usage, appeal to the intelligence of
thepopular will, by seeking to elevate the
character and conduct of the American,
citijen. Nor have these usages ever been
abised or abandoned without enabling the
enany to divide our ranks, and to place in
postion either an avowed enemy or an
©dims Democrat.
During the Spring sessions of the Dis-
tric. Courts, it is earnestly requested that
the Democracy of each county will meet
in primary assembly, and there set forth
clea'ly and boldly their political opinions
upoi every measure of National and State
polisy, and also give spontaneous and free
utterance to their choice of men.
As to the number of delegates to be sent
to the State Convention, it is believed best
to leave this matter entirely with each
comty; the State Convention always set-
tling the mode of making nominations.
The great point will be to adopt such mea-
sure as will secure you a certain and sound
representation in that body. Every effort
shoild be made to obtain true men who
will pledge their personal attendance at the
Corvention. This is of the first importance.
Where it is believed to be impracticable or
doubtful, and only in such cases, provision
shonld be made to secure the appointment
of proxies as a last resort; for no county
should, if possible, permit her vote in the
State Convention to go by default. There
will always be fonnd delegates in other
counties, of known reputation and charac-
ter, who can be safely appointed to express
the wishes of an absent county. ^
TJie Democratic party are fully aware
ílfc^they have a cunning, unscrupulous and
moit untiring foe lo deal with. Our past
Btri^rgles have not been fought without
convincing us of this fact, nor are we indif-
ferent to the present indications of our ene-
mies',to assault the Convention System by
corabming en some independent candidate,
to fight the battle under Neutral or no
Partt Colors.
Leavened as that party has always been
by Monarchists, Federalists, and unreliable
Democrats, it has ever been grossly indiffer-
ent to |ho antecedents of the men put for-
ward, «) long as they seemed to subserve
their pirpose of catching the popular breeze.
If it evu-survived the partitioning of the
offices ol government under tho Adamses,
Harrison or Taylor, the very moment this
party attenpted to assume "administrative
power, itt-ecame broken and its hosts dis-
evered like chaff before the gale.
Our enemies will find that we have not
witnessed tieir history nor noted their an-
cient finesse in vain. They will find, too,
in good ti rao, that there is no name in the
State, however high it may
sunshine of laurels, that can
much now depends to awaken the party to
the importance of holding their county
Conventions. Of their course we may
speak in advance. With their armor on,
and always ready to do battle, they will
sound the tocsiu aud push on the move-
ment until the final holding of the Waco
Convention, and then resting only to con-
centrate our forces, theyr will again usher
forth and sustain, with all the fervor of past
days, the nominations of our party, how
ever they may have differed in the selec-
tion, until the day of the August elections
shall decide the issue.
As ample preparations will be made at
Waco by its hospitable citizens for the re-
ception of the Democratic delegations,
every county may confidently rely upon
finding accommodations. f
Satisfied that it is only necessarv to call
the attention of the Democracy to the
usual prelimiaary preparations of a State
Convention, to insure a general action in
the State, we may confidently expect to
witness at Waco on the 4th of May next a
grand re-union of the Democracy in which
the true and patriotic everywhere will enter
into a warm, cordial and fraternal inter
State, vast and inexhaustible in resources,
and already having a population entitled
to four representatives, has a capacity7 for
expansion and population beyond every
sister in the Union; and at the same time
all eyes are centered upon us for the ex-
tension of a railroad to the Pajifi j. Yet
even now on our Atlantic side, there are
countries to supply with products which
will consume all that Texas can raise with
millions of population. With such a glow-
ing picture, how soon we are to partake
substantially of its fruits depends upon^he
wisdom and firmness of our State policy.
In our Treasury are ample means properly
directed to give such impetus to the build-
ing of railroads as to secure in a few years
a connection ot the interior with the Gulf
aud the Mississippi, and thus insure to
Texas those highway's for conveying our
products to market which nature has denied
us. Yet unless the Democratic party seek
to disseminate its principles, and to build
firmly up its organization under the Con-
vention System, this vast monied means
will become tho prey of designing politi-
cians, and frittered and lost, retard our
progress, and throw us back for years in
the development of our resources. Texas,
however, has ever proved herself true to the
Democracy, and with the discharge of our
duty at the Waco Convention, we can well
trust her hereafter.
JOHN MARSHALL,
President State Central Committee.
A dancing master, in renewing his so-
licitations f®r patronage, wished to express
his obligations for past favors, when the
printer made him say, " Most respectfully
offers his shanks,"
An honest Dutchman in training Up his
son in the way he should go, frequently
exercised him in Bible lessons. On one of
these occasions he asked him :
" Who vas dat would no sleep mit Boli-
pher's vife!
•' Jhoseph."
" Dat 'sh a goot poy. Veil, vat vas de
reason he vould shleep mil her ?"
" Do n't know ; s'pose he vash n't sleey."
There is a young daughter of a titled
English aristocrat in Albany, N. Y., She
was brought up in luxury, fell in lofo, and
married her father's groom, and was obliged
to fly from her country to avoid her father's
vengeance. She passed through many
trials which rend the heart, in her career
from wealth to poverty. She is now a
seamstress.
The Sea-Bird's Treasure.
On a rock vast and hoar,
By a dosolate shore,
One bright eve, as 1 wandered alone,
A gaunt sea-bird I spied
Looking down on the tide
Dark aud grim from his wave-beaten throne.
Mute and motionless there, *
In the sun-tinted air,
And with plumage as black as the night.
The wild ocean-bird seemed
Like the form of a fiend
Standing forth from a background of light.
A gay, frolicsome breeze,
Fluttered ovei the seas, ¿
And sang on till the waters were stirred,
But a strange, low lament,
With its melody blent,
As I gazed on that spectra! bird.
For lo! there as lie fitopd. ""TSfeSi;--
Looking díiwii orí tSrffóáBT
I beheld from his white beak unrolled,
By the warm summer air,
A lone curl of white hair,
A brown ringlet deep tinted with gold—
Just such ringlets as grow
Above foreheads of snow,
Overshadowing earnest blue eyes,
As the morning mist shrouda,
With its amber-hued clouds,
The deep light of Italian skies.
" Tell me, bird, didst thou go
Where the coral reefs grow,
Around grottoes of crystal and pearl,
And most ruthlessly tear.
That rich, radiant hair,
From the brow of some fair shipwrecked girl ?
" Or where skeletons ble och
On the wide barren beach,
When upheaved by the billowy brine,
Of all beauty bereft,
Was that trail relic left,
With its life-mocking lustre to shine ?
" Was it there thou didst find,
'Mid the damp seaweed twined,
That rare curl, whose soft ripples once fell
On a breast pure aud white
As the mid-summer's light,
Dropping down on some stainless sea shell 1
" Strange and sad doth the gleam
Of that sunny tress seem,
As it floats o'er thy smooth, sable plume,
Like a beautiful ray.
From the soul faraway,
Trembling still round its dark ocean tomb.
" For thy mate, didst thou bring
That frail, glittering thing,
To be twined in her storm-beaten nest ?
As some heavenly thought,
In its holiness wrought,
Through the dreams of a sin-tortured breast.7
Does a fond mother mourn
For that fair head, now shorn
Of its splendor, where dark billows flow,
Does the lullaby still
Through her memory thrill,
That she sang to her child long ago ?
Does §he think of that time,
Qur When the sweet Sabbath chime
' Calfed her up tó OiS TeTíi^Ac.
Of how fondly she smiled
When that auburn-haired child
Knelt btsi le her in purity there?
Even now could she press
That long glistening tress
To her sad breast, methinksit would know
That those soft si rands were shed
From the beautiful head
She had pillowed there long, long ago.
But earth's children must grieve—
Whether cypress boughs weave
O'er their lost ones—or wild sea-birds reap
Their rich treasures, a moan
Goeth up to God's throne.
From the hearts of the many who weep.
Still I see the rich curl
Of that fair shipwrecked girl,
Who lies shrouded, where storm-billows roll,
And that bird grim and gaunt
Shall for evermore haunt,
Like a phantom, the depth of my soul. Rosa.
— Louisville Journal.
An eccentric clergyman, lately alluding
in his pulpit to the subject of family gov-
ernment remarked that it is often said,
" that uow-a-days there is no such tilingas
family government. But it is false, all
false. There is jiif-t as much family gov-
ernment now as their ever was—just as
much as in the days of our fathers aud
. grandfathers. The only difference is, that
bask in the i then the old folks did the governing, where-
bo success- ¡as now it is done by the young ones!"
The Youth of our Day.
Where is now our youth ?—where our
old age. Where are our boys ?—where are
our old men ? We have men-boys and boy-
men. But where are the veritable boys—
the boys with eager hearts, throbbing
pulses, buoyant spirits, gay hopes, glowing
fancies, unreasoning beliefs, and ready faith
—the boyo with the young thoughts and the
young feelings gashing through them like
the juices of young life—the boys who hail
their stage of existence joyfully, gathering
its pleasures, battling its sorrows, and vent-
ing its impulses; not striving and straining
after an unripe knowledge and a forced
maturity ? Where are now our veritable
gray beards—the old men who calmly, and
of course, enter upon their stage of life as-
suming its dignities, claiming its privileges,
and fulfilling its functions; separating them-
selves from the turbid action, the roil and
strife of the world, aud reposing honorably
in the retirement of experience and couucil;
not clinging to the semblance of foregone
periods, not envyiug the energies of youth
oi the prime of manhood, but keeping alive
the memories and feelings of both to ray
their declining day with mellow light—the
old men who rejoiced to wear their gray
hairs as a crown of glory, aud stood amid
their fellows with their hoary heads, their
wise hearts, and their brows engraven with
the lines of thought like
" The white almond trees full of good days."
Such men may still exist, scattered like
old pollards over the leveled face of society;
but they are not thy products, not the result
of thy materialism, O Age! The youth
which opens under thy auspices, aud runs
by thy creeds, cannot sow the seeds of such
a harvest. The youth formed under thy
influences and action will have no growth,
will not know the natural processes of
maturition—" First the blade, then the ear,
after that the full corn in the ear." Thy
youth will be put up and fashioned like a
pieee of mechanism, set to work like a
steam-engine, moving ever by the same
hard, heavy material laws—so much speed
from so much power, so much knowledge
from so much pressure.—Blacjctoood.
*
4
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Hepperla, John C. The Central Texian. (Anderson, Tex.), Vol. 3, No. 33, Ed. 1 Saturday, January 17, 1857, newspaper, January 17, 1857; Anderson, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth181130/m1/1/: accessed April 24, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting The Dolph Briscoe Center for American History.