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17 Haunted Glen.. ..307 | Ode to the Eagle. By J. Carroll Brent
510 Ola-Ita : or the Sioux Girl.....
.535 Ode.... 1.
..539 Imitated from the Old Provençal.......
Pauland Virginia of H. Pierre. By Mrs. Sigourney. 146 I am Unhappy Now.. .261 Passing Year. January 1837..
..172 Impromptu. To Miss M
.245 Invocation to the Wind. By H. J. Brent ..314
32 Junius. By Henry J. Brent.
172 Song. “Fare thee well”.
..172 L. Stanzas
..227 Stars. By Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
..280 Lines on the Death of Wolfe
.309 Lapse of Years..
..338 Lines ...
340 Lines on the Young Poet Keats.
.398 Lay in Winter. By W. Gilmore Simms.. . 157
Strains of the Grotto..
.445 Lost Star. By G. W. Thompson....
.463 Lines, suggested by the Remarks of Mr. Perdicaris. 159 Sonnets. I. To Liberty. II. Men of '76. .472 Lines
.475 Lines. To a Young Lady.
zas. “Oh, turn not away in this madness" ..478 Lines to Oxoniensis
.480 Lighthouse. By J. C. McCabe
..480 Lines on Leaving the City in Summer.
-“The Moonlight March”. ..509 Likes and Unlikes...
..666 Labors of the Peace Society.
.478 Lines in the Album of the late Miss M. T. R -.514 Legislative Epigram.
.640 Lines .726 To Miss L. H. W .....
96 To Fancy
96 M. To Hymen
104 The Chain..
180 Moses Smiting the Rock. By N. C. Brooks 25 The Bride
224 Madrigal ...104 To
.241 Memory of my Mother. By John C. McCabe....223 True Love..
.253 Madrigal-The Wreath .234 To a Watch. By J. Carroll Brent....
.301 May.. .241 Tomb of Napoleon. By W. Gilmore Simms......
.367 Mutiny .295 To Miss C. P. W***** of Williamsburg.
.467 Marys. By Mrs. Harrison Smith
.344 To Mrs. S****s. 1834.... Modern Lion... 473 The Bible
504 My Child !--My Daughter .511 To Isadora..
539 To a Sea Gull. By H. Thompson.
.578 To Mrs. Christina S. 1836.....
.584 Niagara ...
... 21 To Dr. T. J. S...... Navarino. In Four Parts. Part I. By Miss Draper. 239 To a Humming Bird...
.608 Part II.
300 To a Winter Flower. By W. Gilmore Simms....619 Part III. 386 To M. G-By S. W. Inge
628 Part IV. 497 To Leila. From the Arabic...
RICHMOND, JANUARY, 1837.
T. W. WHITE, PROPRIETOR.
FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.
AFTER AN ABSENCE OF THIRTY YEARS.
A VISIT TO MY NATIVE VILLAGE,
charity of any one. I dwell on her example with pleasure, as furnishing an honorable contrast to the unfeel
ing eagerness, with which parents too ofien now-a-days By the Author of Letters from the South, Dutchman's thrust their children, and children their aged parents, Fireside, &.c.
upon the bounty of the public. The world is not improvNot a hundred miles from a certain “Great Com. ed in this respect, whatever may be the case in others. mercial Emporium,” on the right bank of the Hudson,
As I go on, a thousand recollections are awakened there lies a little village, dozing beneath a hill which in my mind; link after link discloses itself in the long not only shelters it from the east winds, but from the chain of memory, and were I not apprehensive of tiring prying eyes of travellers, who fortunately for the repose my readers, I could dwell on these times with a prolixity of the villagers, used to pass by along the high road, only gratifying to myself. But the present has its unconscious of its existence. The only communion claims as well as the past, and I must consign them to between it, and the great world, was through a market that oblivion which swallows up so large a portion of boat, which plied once a week, to and again, from the mankind and their doings. village to New York, bearing to market the surplus
It is now upwards of thirty years, since I left this products of the country people, and sometimes a thrifty quiet resting place, to seek my fortune, after the manold market woman, who accompanied her butter, eggs
ner of the heroes of our fuiry legends. In that time I and chickens, and who whiled away the tedium of a have seen the world, and the little ants that crawl upon long passage by plying her knitting needle, sleeping it, in various scenes and aspects; I have looked at, and waking.
rather than mingled in its busy hubbub, and if the old The houses were arranged close along the margin of saying is true, have seen more of the game than the the river, whose waves as they broke on the sand beach players themselves. One thing, however, puzzles me. in t'e silence of the night, gave a soothing melody dis- I cannot for the life of me, tell whether I am wiser than paing to repose or contemplation. Immediately in I was thirty years ago. Whether I am better, is a front, the river expanded into a wide and noble bay, matter of still greater perplexity. animated at all times by vessels passing up and down,
Afier chasing shadows the better part of my life, I and bordered on the opposite shore by a range of lotiy all at once recalled to mind the realities of my carly hil's, cultivated to the summits
, and showing distinctly home. I felt myself in the situation so beautifully desthe divisions and the various hues of the ficids, which cribed by a poct, who though rudely jostled aside by a lay on its sides basking in the morning sun.
swarm of vapid intruders, is to my mind worth all the I never knew so quiet a village, nor one where the school of Byron, Moore and Scott, put together. olj bomoly simplicity of our golden age existed in more "And as a hare when hounds and horn pursue, primitive purity some thirty years ago, when I lived Pants for the spot from whence at first she flew, there in luxurious idleness, indulging in long visions of
I still had hopes, my long vexations
Here to return--and die at hoine at last.” the future, not one of which has been realized, and the wise ones of the village prophesied that I would never No sooner had my memory fastened on this bone, than come to any good in this world. Just about midway it straightway began to practice its accustomed decepof the only street of the village, was a fine spring, tions, for it is not alone anticipation that exaggerates. where the water spouted from beneath a rock, at the Memory is as great a deceiver as Hope, and objects foot of the hill, in a stream as thick as my arm, and which appear in the misis of the past, are just as much here it was, that in accordance with the habits of pa- inflated with airy nothings, as they are in those of the triarchal ages, the villagers were wont to come together fu!ure. In one word, I resolved to imitate the hare, with their empty pails, and stand and talk tiil they and make the best of my way to the spot, whence the ran over. Here came the lads and lasses, the old pa- hounds and horn of worldly temptations unkennelled triarchs who with pipes in their mouths, discussed the me, some thirty years ago. weather, the news, or the backslidings, and here it was I embarked in a steam boat. A steam boat! Such a that poor Eilee, the dumb, blind son of an indigent monster was not dreamed of, when I left them, by the widow, came feeling his way with a stick, followed at sober villagers, who were content to wait the capricious times by some little outlaws, who though he could not tyranny of winds and tides, in their passages to and set then, had vicious, cunning expedients to annoy the from the Emporium. We went up the river like magic; por tellow. His mother, as I said before, was a widow the sail boats were left far in the rear; the landscape and very poor; but she was prudent as well as indus- on either side the river, seemed running backwards at trious, and with an honest spirit of independence, re- the rate of twenty miles an hour; and the blessed sun jected all ofiers of placing the boy on the parish. By himself was hardly able to keep up with us, as we her own exertions, aided by those of Ellee, who though champed our way, leaving a wake behind far as the his perceptions were blunted by the absence of two of eye could see, and causing a series of angry billows his inculties, could make himself useful in various ways, that broke in white foam on the distant shores. In she managed to keep him clean and tidy, without asking less time than it used to take the old market boat to
get under weigh, I was landed, on a new wharf, at the and Ellee who had in boyhood tasted her bounty, now home of my youthsul fancy, and remembering that I repaid her by his duteous aflection. The extreme of had been two days and a night in going the same dis- poverty is not incompatible with cleanliness, and whentance, the last time I achieved that feat, I could not ever I see be gary and dirt combined, I feel sure ihat help mentally exclaiming, “ Certainly the world has the object is worthless. The home of Ellee's mother improved prodigiously in the last thirty years!” This was tidy and neat. Ellee had learned to do many was a mortifying conclusion to an elderly gentleman things, and the villagers employed him in preference like myself, who could not in conscience flatter himself to others, in various errands and occupations, adding with having kept pace with the world.
to the ordinary remuneration, a trille in charity. The Advancing from the place of landing, which was a devotion of Ellee to his mother, was such as might long point jutting out into the river, a quarter of a mile cause the cheek of many children not like him, bereft distant from the heart of the village, I was struck with of sight and speech, to redden with shame, were it not the change which I witnessed in passing along. The true that those who are insensible to filial piety, are faces I saw were all strangers; the bouscs seemed to incapable of the feeling of compunction for the neglect have grown downwards like a cow's tail; though they of that most sacred duty. looked much more gay than in old times, when people The first night I spent in the village I could not sleep. neither painted their houses or faces. I wondered what Accustomed for years to the fretful racket of a great had become of my old friends Prom Van Houten, commercial city, which is never quiet by day or by Johnny Van Tassel and Jacobus See; I looked around night, the death-like silence, the dread repose which expecting to be grected by ny special associate the reigned all around me, conjured up in my mind assoshaggy Rover, who used to accompany me in my ciations with death and oblivion. It scemed the silence rambles, and who, I will say, was an honest, well of the grave. I lay and listened for some whisper of beseeming quadruped; but he came not to meet me, life, and the sound of my own breathing started me. and not a single dog wagged his tail as I passed along. 1 mouse was rustling about somewhere in the wall, As a last resource, I cast my eye towards Trencemets and the awful silence of all the world besides, caused Point, a projection about half a mile down the river, the sounds to assume the semblance of some one atwhere I remembered to have seen, just before I lost tempting to open the window. I rose, opened it myself sight of my native village, old Petrus Storm sitting and looked out on a scene so wondrous quiet, yet so with his fishing pole, as was his custom, studying pa- lovely, that I forgot the sense of loneliness in communtience and perseverance. But alas! Petrus was not ing with the beauties of the earth and the heavens. A there, and a sense of loneliness, of'utter desolation come delicious, soul-subduing melancholy, associated, yea, over me. I was alone in the home of my boyhood. Not mingled with a consciousness that I was standing in even a dog knew me. I was worse of than Ulysses. the presence of the great Creator of all these wonders,
Advancing onwards, with melancholy hesitation, at stole over my mind, and that night I received an imlength I recognized an old acquaintance in the person pression of the divinity, such as all I had ever read or of Ellee, the blind and dumb boy, now grown prema heard had failed to create. The lay lay stretched out turely old as I thought, for I forgot what an age had before me, as bright and still as the surface of a mirror, passed away since last I saw him. Hearing my foot- insomuch that the very moonbeams slept on it without steps he stopt, and leaning on his stick looked towards trenibling; a number of vessels with their white sails me, as intently as if he had been able to see the blessed all standing, lay becalmed on the expanse of waters; light of the sun. This was one of Ellee's foibles, and beyond, the opposite shore looked like the shadow of a I remembered how the boys used to laugh at him when world; and above, the blue heavens, the twinkling the market boat was expected from New York, and he stars, and the full orbed moon, led irresistibly to the would, after looking intently that way, give it as his contemplation of a world to come. The rays of a decided opinion, it was certainly her, though the poor morning sun in the month of June, lipt the hills of the lad could not tell a hawk from a handsaw.
western shore with golden lustre, before 1 became conMy heart warmed towards poor Ellee, who seemed scious that the night was past and the day come. to be the only remaining remnant of past times. Be Between sunrise and breakfast I seated myself on sides this, my aged mother-Heaven rest her soul!-- the piazza of our old family residence, which fronts the was always kind to him; I too bad done him many spring, that bubbles forth at about ten yards distance, good offices, and this constitutes a tie of fellowship to see if I could detect any of my old acquaintance, which is never broken. Ellee stood gazing with his coming for water to boil the keule. Presently there white sightless eyes, and seemed to recognize me, as approached a couple of women, each with a pail in her it were instinctively, for an old friend. “Ellee,” said hand, and both, to say the truth, more than commonly I at last. He started, gazed still more intensely, and ugly. In conformity with the good, sociable custom of I could see the stick tremble in his hand, as he muttered the country, I bade them good morning, which they certain unintelligible sounds. I approached nearer, and returned, and locking at me, began to whisper to each said, “Ellee, my boy, how do you do ?" This time he other while their poils were filling. “It must be him— recollected the voice of his old friend, and thirty years I'm sure I am right, Racliel Foster," at length said one had not effaced the impression of gratitude. He drop- of them in rather a raised tone. "Rachel Foster! hea. ped his stick, came towards me with outstretched hand, vens, is it possible!” said I, mentally—“Such a fright!" and though he could not utter a word, I understood Now, Rachel Foster was my earliest love, and when I him, for the tears rolled from his sightless eyes adown parted with her, was as preity a girl as ever inspired his wrinkled cheeks. He conducted me to his mother, the first warm wishes of youth. Now, grey hairswho was now past all employment but that of kvitting, Idcep wrinkles-stooping shoulders-sunken eyes—fiat