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DREDGE & CO 187 0. p% ' I + ^ 7 t r *" '''' ^^* ^^ *'^ "'^^"'"'^»* ^'^ ^-«'^^. *" the year one Thousand Eight Hundred and Seventy, by Co.Jy" D..SK.S, in the omoe of the Minister of A^ricu .. " .i- : ;• ' i,^ TO G. A. CARSON, ESQ., M.D., , AND MRS. ALMA V. CJARf ARSON, REIiATlVBS OP THE LATB YOUNG DR. WINAN8, PRIKNDS WHO WERR BieULT ESTKBMBD AND GREATLY BELOVED BY iriM ; THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. LIBRARY, togq O a^tarv DUDLEY & BURNS, BOOK AND JOB PRINTERS, VICTORIA HALL, TORONTO. I i PREFACE. It is desirable in this enlightened age of the world, that the youth of our land possess enlarged views, not only of litera- ture and science, but especially of revealed religion. To promote this sentiment one object contemplated by the author in pre- senting this work to the public, is to influ- ence and encourage our youth in the pursuit of early piety, and thus aid in some humble degree in influencing them to consecrate the prime of their days to the service of God. It is an admitted fact that the bright example of the truly pious is well calcu- lated to induce others to use the means necessary to attain to a state of exalted piety and usefulness in the world. In order to aid others in the pursuit of literature, experimental religion, and 6 PREFACE. userulnoc?s in this lil'e, the true character of an intelligent and intellectual young man of rare ability and deep piety, is here Het forth. In his conversion, experience, and daily walk through his short journey of life, we have a reuiarkably cheering instance of the power of divine grace. And in his early attainments we have a proof of what may be accomplished when a purpose is formed, and a laudable object to be obtained. In preparing this volume for publica- tion there has been no aim at any learned or curious disquisitions to amuse the reader, no attempt at ornaments of style, but with- out aiming at any adventitious embellish- ment, the design is merely to give a true description of a brilliant character worthy of imitation. Another object contemplated in the publication of this volume, is to preserve in a substantial form, extracts from the cor- respondence and manuscripts of a talented youth of great originality and command- ing intellect, one w^ho, had it pleased Divine Providence to have prolonged his life, bid PREFACE. fair to })ec()ino one of the master-spirits of the age, ripe in intellect, tiuent in the beautiful utterance of the brighter and better paHsions, and strong in the grand and glowing imagery that gave language to his pen. Some of these extracts cannot be perused without admiration, thrilling interest and profit. The work may be examined with a critical acumen by the fastidious critic, but what of that V The author hopes for the impartial and careful perusal, and liberal forbearance of the candid. With fervent prayers to the Disposer of Events, that this little volume may prove a blessing to all who may peruse its pages, it is oftered to the public. If it produce good results, the object contem- plated in its publication will have been attained. 'U; h /. fs v\ CONTEXTS CHAPTER I. Desire of pnronts to promote welfare of their offspring — The course pursued by some to promote the wel- furo of their children — A mother whii)ped her child to death for refusing to suy prayers — Experimental religion should be inculcated — Effects of proper religious training on a prodigy in intellect 13 CHAPTER H. Dr. H. B. Winaus with his family returned to Canada, settled west of Toronto — Peculiar features in the character of his son George — Remarkable power of concentrating thoughts — Moral sensibilities — ^ , Loveliness of spirit 19 CHAPTER III. Early development of mind — Unusual command of language — A singular account of an » Agricultural Show." 24 CHAPTER IV. Some of his Poems appear in Newspapers — Essay on the Beauties of Nature 28 CHAPTER V. Combined Excellence of Character — Essay on Man 35 CHAPTER VI. Speaks in Public — Eloquence — Lecture on Temper- • - ance 45 I 10 CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. Character regarded with Admiration — Second lecture on Temperance 53 CHAPTER YIII. Thoughts Lofty — Imagination Bright— Essay od Imagi- nation and Fancy — Mental Plodder — Early Hours Improved 60 CHAPTER IX. Moral Character Maintained — His Conversion — Difficul- ties in the way of Penitents — Faith Conne»;ted with Repentance — His Stature, &c. — Strength ol Intel- lect — Attachment to Friends — Letter to his Sister . 66 CHAPTER X. Became a Local, Preacher — Studies Medicine with Dr. Carson — Enters Normal School — Enters College — His Method— Essay on " Water." 76 CHAPTER XI. Starts for the United States — A Scene oa Lake Ontfirio — Visits Falls of Niagara 87 CHAPTER XI [. Arrives in Albany — Trip down Hudson'c River — Arrives in New York — Visits Friends — xirrives in Washing- ton — Enters upon duty ao a Surgeon — Letter Pub- lished in N^iwspapers — Iictter to Dr. Carson 91 CHAPTER XIII. Arrives in City of Alexandria — Embarks on board a Floating Hospital — Voyage through Chesapeake Bay — Extract of Letter to his Parents 105 CHAPTER XIV. Trip up James' River — View of the Country — Apprehen- sions of Danger — In Range of Enemies Guns — Arrives at City Point — Extrac . of Letter to a Friend —A bold Adventure — Letter to a Friend 112 11 76 87 91 CONTENTS. 11 CHAPTER XV. Starts for Wasliington — Attention to Means of Grace — Returns to City Point — Sun rise at Sen, — Terrific Explosion — Visits Petersburg 123 CHAPTER XVI. Health Fails — Starts for Home — Arrives in New York • Returns to Canada — Symptoms of Decline — Visit from a young Doctor — Reflections on his State of Health — Epigram 128 CHAPTER XVII. Letter to his Uncle — Visit from his Brother, Rev. Wm . Henr> Winans — Composed Poetry when Speechless — Poem on " We all do Fade as a Leaf." 133 CHAPTER XVIII. His Confidence in God — A Mellow Tint — Mental Powers Remained good to the last — A Poem of Adoration and Sup .vution — Last Verses composed by him. . 140 CHAPTER XIX. Last Moments — Triumph in Death— Funeral Obsequies —On his death, Lines by Dr. Ross — On Friendship, by Mrs. Matilda Cooke 144 CHAPTER XX. Poem on Friendship — True Friendship— False Friend- ship—A Literary Curiosity— A Student's Lament — Lines to Charles Stratton and Troupe — The Battle of Wateiloo — The Snow Flake — Woman 152 1 -^^ CHAPTER I. Desire of parents to promote welfare of their offspriug — The course pursued by some to promote the welfare of their children — A mother whipped her child to death for refusing to say prayers — Experimental religion should be inculcated — Effects of proper religious training on a prodigy in intellect. There is nothing more common than fi desire in Christian parents to promote the welfare and happiness of their children. This sentiment of parental affection is manifest amidst the most degrading scenes of our fallen humanity. Even inferior animals, without regard to odds in strength or number, without hesitation, by the in- stinct of their nature, engage in combat, and die in the struggle to protect their offspring. ' ' " With many in thr Christian world the most potent desire to live is, that they may provide for, and, as far as possible^ promote the happiness of their chiklren. , But it is to be feared, the best method to secure this laudable object, is not always iiqcn 14 THE PRODIGY. % i' pursued, even by those who are most desirous to secure the spiritual interest and welfare of tlieir families : thev remember the divine injunction, and the cheering promise, that if we " train up a child in the way he should go, when he is old he will not depart from it." To observe this precept, they set good examples before their families, live a godly life themselves, and give to their children kind admoni- tions ; trusting in the mercy of God, that, after they grow up to mature age, and are capable of choosing and judging for them- selves, and become responsible for their own conduct, they may be brought under the influence of the Holy Spirit, and, '' in the Lord's own good time," be savingly converted to God, and gathered within the pale of the church of Christ, and then work out their salvation with fear and trembling before the Lord. Others a little more punctilious in the discharge of parental duties, see to it, that their children do not profane the day, or name of the Lord ; jind, from infancy, they are taught to observe all the external forms of religion, as if ilmt were all that was required. They are childrp:n bid to say prayers. 15 re most irest and iiiiembcr cheering child in is old he ;rve this 5 before mselves, adraoni- od, that, , and are jr them- jv their it under md, "' in lavingly thin the en work embling le more xirental 1 do not •d ; and, observe 1, as if hey are taught not to neglect to say their prayers, to their father or mother, before they ^ileep, and are thus trained up to be consummate Pharisees. Instead of being instructed in the way they should go, they are taught to Avalit in the way they should not go. This is the kind of blind zeal that prompted a mother, in Western Canada, to whip her child to death for neglecting, or refusing, to " say its prayers before it slept." It is one thim»- to ii .^U'uct children to refrain from wilful acts of rebellion against God, and say prayers, and attend to other external acts of devotion ; but it is quite another thing to instruct them in the great principles of experimental religion. Too often when a child is bid to go to its father, or its mother, and '' say its prayers," it repeats a little ditty, in the form of a prayer, without extending one thought beyond its earthly parent to whom it repeats its prayer, and after being flattered by the parent for the fluent manner in which it repeated its task, the child retires' to rest, satisfied that tJiat tiisk was well performed, and that the father and mother were both pleased with the performance. ^»h •!#*■■ 16 THE PRODIOY. To train up a child in the way in which it should go, implies more than is contained in teaching it; even by precept and example, to observe the outward cere- monies of religion. To train up a child for God, and for heaven, heartfelt and experimental religion must be strictly inculcated, as well as outward forms and ceremonies. The first cannot be omitted without defeat, and the second should not be neglected. The first touches the fac- ulties, powers, affections, and inflections of the soul : the second^ the understanding, or intellectual powers of the mind. One affects the head, the other the heart. If a child is well instructed in its duty to love and obey its parents, that intelli- gence, or intellectual training, does not ' supersede the performance of duty. No parent would be satisfied with his child merely to know its duty without perform- ing it. When we see children of pious parents wayward, and, as they advance in life, depart from the way in which they should go, to many it would appear as if the promise had failed ; but, depend upon it^ I parents' responsibility. 17 ■^ in such cases the conditions have not been fully met. They may have been instructed in the outward performance of duty ; but the inward work — the more important and *' weightier " matters have been sadly neglected. No doubt, milny queries may arise, and foolish questions be asked, about the possibility of parents imparting experi- mental religion to their children ; a thing no one pretends to do. But hew far parents may be the humble instruments, in the hands of God, to accomplish the work, is quite another question. It is a well-known fjict that parents have an influence over their children, such as can- not be exerted by any other, either men or angels. This admitted, we see the awful responsibility resting upon parents. But it is not our design, in writing this volume, to give an exposition of the duty of parents to their children ; but, for the encouragement of others, by presenting a remarkable instance of the happy influ- ence and salutary effect of early parental instructions, enforced by the example of pious parents, brought to bear upon the 18 THE PRODIGY. iH I IB i I. heart of n child of many prayers, who grew up to he a young man of much promise, and became a skilful surgeon and physician. In early youth he was considered to be a genius in poetr}^, and a prodigy in intellect. i i; ho grew promise, ysician. to be a itellect. i.;i CHAPTER II. Dr. 11. B. Winans with liis family returned to Canada, settled west of Toronto — Peculiar features in the character of his so George — Remarkable power of concentrating thoughts — Moral sensibilities — Loveli- ness of spirit. Geo. E. a. Winans was born in the United States, near Galena, in the State of Illinois, on the 6th day of January, 1843. When at the age of about eight or nine he came with his parents, who at that time returned to Canada, and settled about thirty miles west of Toronto. His itither, Dr. Henry B. Winans, soon secured the confidence of the people, and obtained an extensive practice in Georgetown, and in Brampton. . At this time, his son George had commenced attending a common school; but also had to attend to various little household duties, at the bidding of his parents. During the early part of his boy- hood, the most peculiar feature in his character was, what some of his friends then thought, " absence of mind." He , I 20 TFIE PRODIGY. t i i was always pleased to attend Sabbath School, and, if when instriieted to start for school at nine o'clock in the morning, he happened to lay his hand on a book, the hours of nine, ten, eleven, or twelve might pass, and he would seem to have, not only forgotten about the school, but appear almost unconscious of his own existence, and ai)parently dead to all surrounding objects, till some one roused him from his reverie ; and then, if he was rec^uested to bring wood, perhaps he would bring water, if that happened to be the last thing he had been reading about. This peculiarity was so prominent in his character that many, who did not understand the consti-. tution of his mind, supposed " George was a very dull boy." Some of his OAvn friends appeared to be in despair about him, fearing he Avould never be able to succeed in the world at all. But others hoped that as he grew older perhaps he might improve a little. The ground of this hope seemed to be founded upon the fact, that in him there never appeared to be (in the midst of all his peculiarities and ap[)arent absence of mind ) any lack of good sense j and, to the APPARENT ABSENCE OP MIND. 21 puperficial observer, it did not appear to be ^'■common Honse." But an he approached maturity, and commenced the study of ^oometrv, algebra, and the hi<»;h(T branches of education, and began to cultivate his mind by the study of mathematics, and thus to arouse those brighter and better (though till now latent) powers of. his intellect in solving some great problem, all his mental energies were entirely concen- trated on the one great subject, so that, if the house were on lire, it Avas not probable with him the spell would break, or he be roused from the charm until a little singed. His friends found, however, this did not arise from ajjsence of mind, or inattention, as they had supposed, but from the rare ability of collecting every brilliant ray and power of the soul ; and, with all the intel- lectual energies of his mind, centre the whole on one subject; and during that period of mental exercise he was so absorbed in the subject that he was totally lost to all others. His mind would some- times become so intently bent on one par- ticular subject, and so completely absorbed in a train of thought on one great object, 22 TFIE PROniOY. Ill ll¥. that he would appear in a state of lurixjr, and seem to hear nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing, till suddenly aroused Ironi the spell. He was so eapablc of concen- trating his thoughts that lu^ often appeared like one of our modern astronomers, who passed a whole night in his observatory, witnessing a celestial phenomenon, and, on being accosted in the morning, replied that he would " go to bed before it was late." He had gazed the whole night, and did not know it ! His moral sensibilities were lively and vigorous. We evidently may observe manv circumstantial varieties in the moral as well as in the mental constitution of the minds of men. Some, while in a state of nature — unrenewed by grace, are of a selfish and morose kind of dis|)osition — they appear to care for nobody, and regret not that nobody cares for them. And even, when such persons are subdued by divine grace, in many instances you may o})serve a marked change in some respects in their general character, but there will still be a sad lack of natural lovelines-s of spirit apparent all through life. EXCErLENCy OP CHARACTER. 23 In others may exi.st natural luveliness, sweetness of spirit, and a charming amia- bility oi' character that render thorn affahle, courteous, and agreea})le, and ele- vates them in society, and particularly in the social circle. And when these moral sensibilities are purified and sanctified by divine grace, it gives an indiscribable charm to character. Such was the true character of this young disciple of our Saviour, possessing so kind and generous a heart, and such noldeness of soul, that he was a distinguished favorite among all his associates. *-f: n -, T^ ?-^ f^tffi -f^ ;^ * M ¥ ,.:,^' H,': -/l;.i CHAPTER III. ■. -md !l'*" Early development of mind — Unusual command of language -A singular account of an " Agricultural Show." The eakly development of the ruling faculty of his mind appeared first in placing words together in rhyme, so as to attract attention. When only six years old, he composed verses that were considered quite above his years. But in this he was not encouraged, as it was thought poets in general never made out much in the world. In his studies he was. therefore, directed in anotiier way. While attenc'ing a com- mon school in Georgetown, studying the rudiments of an English education, he was always among the first in committing his lessons, and in the meantime he would often amuse his friends with a few verses of poetry on various subjects. His thoughts seemed to drift involuntarily in that direc- tion. He evidently was born a poet. Before he was twelve years old he wrote for the public newspaper several poems, over a fictitious name, which also were considered far above his years. « A BOYISH TRAIT. 25 When but a lad, he appeared to have an unusual command of language, and was peculiar in the selection of word.s to express his ideas. Apparently, withoat an effort, he always could use the right word, round- ing his periods beautifully, and arranging his sentences elegantly. Nor did he appear to be sensible of the fact, that such was the case; but fvom childhood he was always humble and unavssuming, and never appear- ed to betray the least shade of vanity. ♦ While he was but a school-boy, it so happened that what was called a " town- ship agricultural show " wi.s held on a vacant lot in Brampton, near his father's residence, where farmeio assembled to ex- hibit specimens of their grain, agricultural implements, stock, &c. In reference to which he wrote the following conglomer- ation of words ending with the same sound. Of course, it is only a boyish trait ; but, because it is somewhat novel, I will here give it a place. His tender age will be a sufhcient apology for any errors it may contain. ~ r 't " A township agricultural show." ■ ' " Last Tuesday and Wednesday an 26 THE TRODIGY. i ipl ; alteration in the occupation and the avo- cation of persons, near the location of our habitation, invited us to an investigation of the agitation. • h. . / , ., ;< ^ * " On interrogation, in conversation, for information, we received the explana- tion. " 'Tvvas a public demonstration for the exaltation of home cultivation. Pro- ceeding to an approximation to the situa- tion, there was an inundation of every human association, of every denomination, making a retardation to our determination to effect a penetration. '' For the feminine acceptation and advocation of that operation of female circumvallation, b}^ brass administration and crinoline undulations, caused a devia- tion to our inclination to reach our desti- nation. *^ Recovering from this retrogration, we commenced an examination of the accommodation or preparation of the edifi- cation and satiation of sight-seeing anti- cipation. There were animals of all gradations^ and every classification of the brute creation. Then with our approbation AGRICULTURAL SHOW. 27 we commenced an observation of a strange conglomeration of machine organizations, mixed without discrimination, which, by mechanics calcuhiti on and calm deliberation, will effect eradication and complete exter- mination of all labor from the nation, and immense accumulation of increased acceleration." - S. ,^- i , > i i-*."' " V^ ' , . ,J * i^: *■/*■!] % .. ■' ' if '. * ' f5 ■ 11- -ft- : *' J '_ >. ^: ' m *■' CHAPTER IV. Some of his Poems appear in Newspapers — Essay on the Beauties of Nature. • At the early age of from nine to twelve, he wrote several poems, over the signature " Oscar," which appeared in the newspapers of the day, and attracted con- siderable attention ; while but few — very few knew the source from whence they came. Also, at this early period in life, he began to distinguish himself by his lucid declamations in school. In prose or verse he alwa^^s excelled. From childhood he was a great ad- mirer of the beauties of nature. The following essay is one he wrote, and de- livered while attending school in Brampton, where his parents then resided. m. ik\ ii'i a TfiE Beauties of Nature." " In speaking of the beauties of nature, we mean the beauties of the great Crea- tor's hand. For nature is but the form VARIED 8CENES IN NATURE. 29 or manner in which God has placed the universe. *' Therefore, in admiring the Avorks of nature, we are admiring the wisdom of God. Forgetting this we are apt to err, and to forget to wliom the praise is due. The race of man is varied in many ways, ]>ut iDore particuhirly in rchition to this .subject, and as the scenes in nature are varied, each individual chooses a certain property in nature as his theme. But all do not thus participate in the pleasure of the admiration of its beauties, on account either of the lack of discernment, and the lack of perceptive powers of beauty, or on account of the all-absorbing thoughts of other occupations. '^ The former sees things as they are, and ought to be. Thej'^ see no beauty in nature, but in the power they have to eat, drink, and sleep ; the other, actuated by motives of gain, still others as necessity, are to(j much busied by their occupations ; their first thought at morning and their last at night is of the daily routine of business. But our attention is not needed with either of these, but with those who are sincere 3 ■^ iSSS 30 THE PRODIGY. ! I t!!' lovers of beauty. There can be no distinct demarcated classification of these, as some are lovers of two or more of the same thing, but in the peculiarities of nature there are more definite demarcations ; but as the task would be arduous to define them, we will not attempt it, we will only approach those most important. We do not have to search for these beauties, but by walking forth in the sunnner fields, almost all can find something to call for their admiration. There the poet can find scope for his ima- gination, the botanist can procure fresh addition to his knowledge, and as he plucks each tender lily of the field, or golden head of wlietit, he muses on the one mys- terious but now simple mode of develop- ment. " But penetrating into the sylvan shades of the neighboring w^ood, they" aiiain express their gratifications on be- holding things on a grander scale of de- velopment. Yet, as we remarked before, different persons have different tastes, while some would like to ga:^e on the mild scenes, others prefer the bold exciting sights, which impart to them their influ- BEAUTIES OF NATURE. 31 ence. But where the imagination of the former most likes to dwell is among some of those regions described by Italian poet» as teeming with sylvan beauty. To be situated on some lofty eminence, and on one hand to behold the green and beautiful plains, interspersed here and there with the ])easant's cottages, while on the side of the hills the merry shepherds are feeding their tlocks, and from that hill to behold the spacious sea spread out like a bed of glass, and at a distance catch a glimpse of a fast receding ship, borne onward by the gentle wind which now rulHes the mirror. Or to be in a vessel on the vast ocean, and to stand on the prow watching the proud ship parting the yielding waters, and dashing the featherd spray from her sides. ^' But looking upwards he is enrap tured at the glorious sight, the sun now sinking in its bed of glass, tinging the clouds with its golden glow, reflecting its brightest image on the waste of waters, and after straining his eyes to catch the last glimpse of that luminary, he acknow- ledges the justness of the fame of that 1 •""P" '•^f^ ;'-|n'a',.Vf:^ ■ lifi ii: ,:■! p! 32 THE PRODIOY. sight, '' the sunHet at sea." Now he who desires more exciting scenes, let him stand on the same spot, on the same elevati(m on which the other stood, but at a different time, and his desire will be satisfied. That formerly calm and placid sea, now agitated by the wind, lashes the rocky cliffs, and as each wave is tossed foaming and froth- ing back, another returns to renew the conflict. And on looking over the vast expanse of leaping mountains he there beholds grandeur and majesty. " But see! he strains his eye to catch the form of a noble vessel on the top of a mountainous wave, the next momeiit to be precipitated in the treacherous gulf, or against the shaggy rocks, and as the shrieks of the terrified crew, mingled with that of the sea-bird reaches his ear, he is satisfied. " But why do we go to far oft' Italy,- while there is so much in this our own i^lorious America ? We can stand on those rocks between cliffs where the pilgrim fathers first landed, or in those primeval forests where once the wild whoop of the Indians rang, and we find pleasure, not BEAl.TIES OF NATURE. 33 oiilv for our eyes, but iis our thoujj^hts un- consciously wauder from the past to the present, we find pleasure also for our mindp. And if we wish for majesty here, let us stand on the l)ank8 of Niagara Falls, and we are awed hy the sublimity of the sight, as we behold the power of God manifested in the works of nature. *' If the painter wishes for employ- ment in this fair, land, let him, standing on some mountain, sketch the surrounding scene below him. Far off he beholds some western river, which more represents a silver ribbon winding its circuitous route through wide and verdant plains, touching here and there, seemingly, some small group of huts, but in reality cities. " To have glorious sunsets and other scenes which would enrapture a '^ Raphael," or excite the poetic talent of a '' Virgil." There is one sight that all may behold, the spacious firmament. And, perhaps there is no class of men that can more ap- preciate the beauty of the arrangement of God's works than the astronomer, his tele- scope annihilates space, his mind inhabits those far distant planets, and he longs for •♦»^ 34 THK PRODIOV. I the privilege of stopping from thiH micro- coani to ///ose, to drink deeper from the fountain of beauty. '' And last, but not least, we may look to the liuman body, whose delicate me- chanism and beauty of structure prove in a pre-eminent degree that supreme wisdom has been exercised in its formation. It is alone suflicient to nullify all the arguments of ath^^ism, causing to exclaim in the beautiful language of Cowper — ' The Imnd that mado us in divine.' " " ar I'- CHAPTER V. » ' Conihini'd Kxcelhiucc! of Cl)Hmcter — Essny on Mnn. There are many intiuencos necessit-ily combined in producing excellency of cha- racter, such as .superior mental qualities, good moral sensibilities, and a careful re- ligious training in early life ; all these were liw in a pre-eminent degree. And his training was in a pure atmosphere, under the paternal roof. His mental faculties and moral accomplishments were developed at an early period in life. Even while a lad at school in Brampton, he wrote several poems and essays. Some of which unhappily have not been preserved. Those found among his papers after his death have been arranged in a volume for publication. The next essay ^ e wrote after that on the " Beauties of Nature," appears to be one on " Man." We have no doubt it will be perused with interest. It reads as follows : M! 'I ]• ■ill if 3C THE I'HODFdY. " An Essay on Man." '* ^ And God said lot us iiuiko inaii hi our own imago, at'tor our likoiio.-s.' Thus was tlio origin of man sul)liiuo in dosigi), puro and \io\y in nature, Ireo rroni disease, and porfoct in Ibnn. ' '* ^ And let him have dominion over the fiRh of the sea, and over the fowls of the air, over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.' Here wo see man placed at the head of the material world, and crowned the sovereign prince of all, although he bore the appellation of ^aniniiil ' from his nature, yet (lod's fair image was imprinted on his soul. The vast earth and its productions, all nature and its laws, every living thing were but as auxiliaries to his existence. " And God placed man in Eden, a place of ])eauty, happiness and plenty, where were pairs of every animal, and species of every plant, and all were under subjection to hira. Now for a moment reflect on the happy position in which man was placed. He was surrounded with plenty, anxious care was to be a stranger ^ .' ... EsHAY ON MAN, 3T U) his Iji'oast, bis wisdom was supreme, at niero siglit ho knew tlie natun* of each animal, and appointed them appropriate names, his life was immortal, 'twas impos- sible for sickness to allect bis system, bis soul was imprinted with the similitude of holiness, truth and love, liis knowledge was as innneasurable as bis bliss, and be was bleiised with free unbiassed will ; Eden was a paradise of uiuilloyed felicitude. Only one restriction was his, and that was obedience to bis Maker. And there was a test put to the obedience of man, but alas ! be disobeyed. He broke the law and bad to suifer the penalty of bis crime, he was expelled from Eden, cares filled his breast, he was deprived of his wisdom, death was bis portion, disease engendered in his system, he was not pure and holy, but he was defiled w^ith sin, he labored for sub- sistence. Such was the fall of man, tho most important event in bis history. But sin does not stop here, shortly afterwards we find Cain imbruing bis bands in his brother's blood, and so powerful an ascen- dency did sin obtain over man, that the whole euiili became one scene of wicked- 'fT'ijm i; r ii 38 THE PRODKiV, iiess, increasing in crime with the increase of popuhation. But God's wrath A'as kindled against man, and He destroyed all with a flood, except Noah and his lumily. Noah being saved, again peo])led the earth. Still we find that sin is blended with man's nature, and in attempting to build a tower that would reach to heaven, God confused his language, which caused a dispersion of the people, and from this the human family was divided into distinct races. " We now find man engaged in hostile conflicts against each other, founding cities and pulling them down. The Persian race first rose to importance, then Egypt came in all its learning and art ; Greece and Persia glowed with power and beauty; Troy reigned and v/as overthrown ; Car- thage extended her conquests and learning ; Rome in splendor and majesty ruled the whole. Alexander conquered the world, and was conquered by his passions. Han- nibal fought, and man\ were his slain, and at last he was slain by death. Caesar overcame countries, ruled governments, and was ruled by the destiny of his fate. Carthage was numbered with the past. ESSAY ON MAN. B» i Then our glorious Messiah in eliristian light dawned upon our world, taking on himself the form of man. The Romans, given to luxury, declined in power. Eng- land extended her conquests, nations trem- bled at her will. Numerous other nations and empires rose, conquered and faded from view. Columbus opened to the world a new race of man in a fertile country, now inhabited by millions, blessed with chris- tian light. Bonaparte tlourished in power and might, ruled the destiny of thousands, and died lonely and forsaken. The chris- tian light is now spreading itself over the entire race of man. Missionaries are point- ing out the i"ue God to darkened races, banishing the clouds of idolatry. Still man holds his position assigned to him by the great Creator. All things are under his gv^vernment anc" contributing to man's existence. Man has changed the face of the material world. Where forests grew, cities stand ; where cities stood, ashes lie. Where silence reigned, the thunders of the cannon shake the hills. You may ask what superiority there is in man that places him in this pre-eminent position. t M I t |! 40 THE PRODIGY. Man is a HUi)LTior being. lie was to rule, every feature in his character clisphiys ex- cellence above all other animate olyects. His form is perfect, 'tis beyond the power of our comprehension to suggest an im- provement, from the hairs of our head to the soles of our feet 'tis one beauteous scene of complicated structure. Behold the movements of the body, how regular and satisfactory. But mark the distinguished feature between man and inferior .lai) - Is. His dignified aspect reasons greatness , his formation reasons superior power ; the hand is all that is needed to perform the duties of life; the feet are all we could Avish to perform their functions of locomotion. Man's nature is such that he can adapt himself to climates, he is found in every country and in every clime. From the torrid rejjrions of Africa, to — ' l^^'irthest Greenland — to the pole itself, ' Where fj\ilinf: irradual, life at lenixth 'r & goes out. On the banks of the Senegal, the haman body supports a degree of heat which causes spirits of wine to boil. In the regions of the poles, it sustains a degree of ESSAY ON MAN. 41 €old which causes merciu v to freeze. Man clothes himself with garments to suit his situation, Avhich no other animal has the power of doing. It is owing to this power of universal adaptation to the temperature of all countries which enables man to hold this position, and to the propriety of adapt- ing all food to his use. Where inferior animals are confined to their animal or vegetable food, man chooses all, or any, according to his taste or circamstances, he is an omniverous animal. '* Again, behold the wonderful faculty of speech, wliich is given to man alone, he connnunicates his ideas with ease and fluency by the aid of articulatory organs. The delicate structure of the organs being a beautiful mechanism, is demonstrative that man is a superior creature, designed for a superior object. •' By this gift ' Jenny Lind ' entranced thousands ; Demosthenes, with full gushing eloquence, roused the Greeks to action ; by this the minister pours the words of truth in to the ears of the wayward multitudes and awakens their conscience ; by this, man gives his mandates to men and animals. n wi^ Li w fWm 42 THE PRODIGY. It forms the medium of comnmnicatioii between all men. But it is not his dignity of aspect, perfectness of form, powers of endurance, capacity of selecting food, nor his gift of speecli^ that chiefly demonstrate man's greatness ; but 'tis the possession of the power of reason, of an intelligent mind^ of an immortal soul. " 'Tis this which is the grand distinc- tion between man and animals : this is the demarcated boundary ; this intelligent principle is located in the brain, it is the seat of thought the power of mind, and its complicated aspirations can be seen, felt, and in a degree comprehended. Yet, after all, we know but little of mind as re- gards its properties or substance, generally ; mind is considered as a living embodied form, as that incomprehensible element where nature is to possess life ; 'tis the origin of all thought ; 'tis thought itself; 'tis the main spring of our action. ^' But if we cannot perceive its form, we can behold a great deal of its effects. Who can comprehend the powers of thought ? its velocity is without compari- son. In the small compass of a man's ESSAY ON MAN. ^ head is contained innumerable ideas, which hold all nature in their grasp. One time it deliberates on the form of the earth's crust, immediately it is searching out the mys- teries in tlie bowels of the earth ; now it is peering through the boundless depths of the ocean, then comprehending the form, size, distance of the stars, and plunging in abyss of space, now amidst the thunders crash that convulsed the air, then explain- ing the cause, and then finding out the cause of sound from the vibrating wire ; it now grasps the lightning and unravels its mvsterv, or soars to the burnished sun conjecturing the cause of its effulgent rays and genial he.at; then absorbed in a spark of liglit from tlint or electric fluid. " And man is blessed with that im- morcal principle of life which shall never die. It shall exist long as eternal ages roll, after this earth is faded from being, when his body, with all its perfections, shall be scattered through nonentity; when all that now is, shall not be. Man sur- viving . all shall exist in a place of happiness or misery, imperishable, in- destructable, everlasting. I '■%A:f*. n f 44 TUE PRODIGY. It " And we realize tlie Hublimity of the thought, as we breathe the words of Cato — ' Eternity ! thou pleasing, dreadful thought, Through what variety of untried being ; Througli what new Bccncs and changes must we pass, The widv , tlie unbounded prospect lies before me. But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it ; Thus am I doubly armed — my death and life. My bane and antidote are both before me. This in a moment brings me to my end. But this informs me I shall never die ! The soul, secured in her existence, smiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point ; The stars shali fade away, the sun himself Grow dim >»'ith age, and nature sink with years ; But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amidst the war of elements, The vreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.' " •ancc. CHAPTER VI. Spoaks in Public — Eloquence — Lecture on Temper! Though but a tender youth, still, he was known to display, not only in his poems an extraordinary lacility in versifi- cation, but also in his essays, and declama- tions in school, he evinced an uncommon variety of expression, strength of thought, and originality of vivid conceptions. He never appeared to have any painful search for ideas or words, and was therefore pressed on some occasions to deliver an address in public, when he would utter words of flame, that appeared as the accent of the soul. Though unassuming and very diffi- dent, in a few instances he complied with the wishes of his friends, and appeared in public. On these occasions he would pre- pare for the eftort by arranging his thoughts on the subject on which he was to speak, and commit them to paper ; but such was the retention of his memory, the brilliancy of his imagination, and command of lan. i i ^ A'^'Z-iJiivki'^feX '• y^ 'V- -^^'^T ^ -v,^ 46 THE PRODIGY. guage, that he never required notes before him when delivering a public address. He was always master of the subject on which he spoke. If eloquence implies utter simplicity, and a soul of fire, distinct, clciar and ready utterance, with grand compass of voice, then he was truly eloquent. The following lecture on the subject of Temperance he delivered when but a youth. On pif[)er it may appear meagre, compared with the lazzling and soul stir- ring effect produced, wiien spoken by him in words of flame, and in a noble strain of thought and language, so as to chain the attention of every one to him — " spell- bound " — till he closed his address. We can only give a brief outline, or rather a small portion, of his address on that occasion. He would write his lecture rapidly — and then immediately deliver it without any notes before him. He would proclaim all he had written, and much more. His fruitful imagination was so active, that he would enlarge on his subject as he pro- ceeded in a most glowing and eloquent manner. LECTURE ON TEMPERANCE. 47 Lecture on Temperance. " A certain zeal inspires my lieart, and warm and philanthnjpie cinolions throb in my bosom, as I contemplate the nature of the cause in which we are enlisted, and for the advocacy of which, we are here assembled to-day, — namely, that of Temperance. It gladdens my heart to think that I am one of this illustrious body, who, determined to* heave onward the conquering car of Temperance reform. And I love to see each member of our order apply the shoulder, till, at every revolution of the ponderous wheel of reformation, tae brandy glasses and decanters smash beneath its touch ! the rum-sellers and distillers writhe beneath its weight ! and the devo- tees of folly — the poor inebriates, are raised up by its power from the mire and degra- ' dation of the abyss into which they are . fallen ! Yes, friends, I love the Temperance cause and its emblem, the pure cold w^ater ; but, proportionate to my love for water, is my antipathy to alcohol. I believe modern lexicogro pliers define love to be an affection of the mind, excited by beauty and worth, t I fl 48 THE PRODIGY. IRi hv or by the qualities of an object Avhich com* municates pleasure. And hatred is just the reverse of this, an emotion excited by the qualities of the o})ject displeasing to us : this is why it is natural for us to love the beautiful water, for we admire the pure, the lofty, and the elevating ; and dislike the nu3an, degrading, and debasing, which jirethe effects of intoxicating liquor. ^' Alcohol is a niging fire; it is so in its nature, and in its effects. You may, some- times, have seen a lofty, noble edifice, towering in the pride of beauty and gran- deur far above all other buildings around ; it is adorned with the richest sculpturing, and its interior hung with tesselated drapery, and the whole structure is gar- nished to apparent perfection. But the devouring element — Fire — with relentless grasp has seized on all this beauty, savagely the greedy flames cestroy the precious decorations, and tota^. ruin appears inevi- table. But lo ! hurried along by the sturdy hands of the brave firemen, the rattling engine rushes up, and from the cool hydrant it fills its brazen tube and leathern pipe : then from the spurting nozzle it darts a ^siirt^' LECTURE ON TEMPEPANPE. 49 ^m :s a copioiiH water lluud u})on the euiillagration, the aftiighted flanien hi.sH and recoil at the blow, and then vanish into the air in sooty leathery clouds of smoke. Thus the build- ing is saved. " And so, does not the fie/ce fire of intemperance seize upon the beautiful struc- ture of the human frame ! It assaults the fair temple of integrity and virtue, it attacks the noblest, most refined, and beau- tiful of mental organizations, and, alas ! alas ! it enters our very Halls of Legislation? penetrates our professional and literary circles, and consumes the superior mental fabric bestowed upon the talented children of genius, and, with devouring, devastating, influence, it licks u]) the pure emotions of the soul. And what, dearest friends, shall be done to check all this fiery ruin raging about us ? I tell you : we need the noble cold water brigade — the Temperance army of our land to fly to the rescue, to bring up the engines of Temperance reform, to man the brakes, and deluge the land with a shower of cold water influence, check the progress of the vice, and thus redeem the victims from the tempter's cruel power. \ 50 THE PROPIOY. 'I'i » ■ it 1,1 '' Again, 1 dislike alcohol on account of its disgraceful origin. It never wjih a created agent. When this earth, conijdete and sinless, emerged from the hand of its Mak(»r, not a drop of that hase article stained a spot of land. But when death affects the vegetahle structure, and decay commences in the grain, there is a putrefy- ing principle generated, and the result of this is alcohol. And thus it is that at its birth it is ushered into our world l)y death and corruption. Nor does it cease here ; for this disgusting nature accompanies it 'through all the sinu' course of its miser- able existence, and stamps corruption or all who touch it. Oh, it is lainentaljle to witness its grievous effects on the human family. It makes its advent in the beau- tiful garden of the human soul, where the fairest flowers of integrity and virtue are blooming, where the buds of intellect are expanding, and the heavenly graces flourish undisturbed. And as quickly as the rose and violet wither at the breath of the piercing North wind, so all these fair blossoms are withered and destroyed by the blighting influence of this poisonous LECTrRE ON TEMPERANCE. 61 3Ct jes as infection. And worse yet ; from the charred, blanched remains of all this per- ished worth, tiie various olnioxious weeds of vice and guilt spring up ; they overrun the mind, exhale a destroying vapour into the nature, and weave around the heart a web of iniquity. Virtue, shocked at the insult offered her, shrinks away in horror. Friendship and Love are turned to hatred and revenge ; and instead of Faith, Hope and Charity, there is nought l)ut dissipation, malice, licentiousness, poverty, murder, and other 1 ifernal elements of a perverted nature. And thus it is, intemperance poisons the very existence of humanity^ it instils a deadly venom into the veins of youth ; it undermines the crowning glory of manhood, hurls its victims into a pre- mature and dishonoured grave, and heaps them over with sods of infamy. " When the happy pair first trod the unpolluted sod of Eden's bowers, they required not the fermented liquors of our day to add to their perfect bliss. If they thirsted, they raised not the tempting wine glass to their beautiful lips, nor poured a fiery stream of scorching alcohol down N m i ^^lamm 52 THE PRODIUY. their unstained throats ; Init with the seal of purity on their Ijrow, and with connu- bial affection warming their hearts to- gether, they stooped at the velvet brink of the clear and bubbling brook, filled their goblets with the pure elixi)' of life, and with the sunshine of God's smile playing around them, they quaffed the delicious beverage prepared by the great Creator alone. To while away the sultry hours of day, they resorted to none of those dens of inflimy, the grog shop, but they paraded the grassy glades of paradise, and bathed in the nectar of its flowing brooks, and watched the diamond beads of rain, sifted from the crystal founts of heaven." ■L^' CHAPTER VIT. Character regarded witli Admiration — Second lecture ou Temperance. It may be said his lecture on temper- ance is more theoretical than practical. This may be, but at the same time it shows a most wonderful elegance of diction and beauty of language, especially when we consider the extreme youth of the orator. It is evident that he also possessed an un- usually fruitful imagination. His moral precepts were practicable, and his early acquirements and virtues were so extraor- dinary, that the more his character is con- sidered, the more he will be regarded with admiration and respect. Another lecture on the same subject which he delivered at a short notice on a special occasion will show, perhaps not the same fervid imagination, but the beauty of his language and liveliness of the figures used by a person so young in years truly commands our admiration. MMii 54 THE PRODIGY. 11 ''I !. I " I feel oppressed on account of my position, the inability to do justice to this subject, in addressing a strange audience, and yet in a certain sense not strangers, for I recognise I am among temperance supporters, and with friends of humanity. A secret sympathy establishes itself in the heart that every temperance supporter is my brother, making us a common brother- hood. The bright faces before me show that they are flowers of temperance, their brows are not seamed with the indications of dissipation and revelry, not stamped with the characteristics of vice and intoxi- cation, but radiant with the halo of intel- ligence, p,nd every brow wearing a wreath of friendship and fidelity. " Neither temperance or intemperance are as young infants as many may suppose, they are not children of our age, and in- temperance, though hastening the appear- ance of grey hairs and furrowed cheeks, and tottering steps of premature old age in its votaries, it still possesses immortal youth. From the time that Noah and Lot yielded to the giddy influence of wine, there has been a continued flow of imita- SECOND LECTURE. 65 re il tors who more than surpassed the originals. The birth of drunkenness is coeval with the discovery of the manufacture of wine, and Egypt, Syria, and Greece, all in turn, be- came experts in the drinking business. Bacchus, by universal consent, is admitted to be the being that devoted his life to the propagation of intemperance and vice through the wine cup, and certainly no one envies him the honour, he succeeded in establishing the custom of inebriation, and, therefore, was constituted a god in heathen mythology. Notice the faithfulness of the ancients, in portraying the representation of the principle or quality they desired to reveal in the selection of the character given to this god. Venus as the volup- tuary ; Cupid, god of love ; Jupiter, of heaven, and so Bacchus was represented as riding in a chariot, drawn ])y a lion and tiger. He wore a leopard's skin on his back, young innocent females accompanied his procession, carrying baskets filled with dilicious fruits ; but in the bottom of the baskets crawled venomous serpents of bright colour, which curled and wreathed and twined amongst the fruits, to the astonisli- n 66 THE PRODIGY. ;ii' M n \ ment of beholders. Women followed with garlands of flowers, and gloves made of Howers, while raving n\en and women ran reeling around, crying '^ Ecvoe, Baclie Jo !" He conquered without bloodshed, and went through nations, subduing them all by the lulling and degenerating iiiHuences of drunkenness at his feasts. Pigs were sacri- .. ficed to him. Among his conquered he numbered Alexander the mighty. Han- nibal was not checked bv the Romans, . but by the wine of Capua, for his soldiers bowed to the behests of the voluptuousness of its luxurious wines, till they were easily driven back. And what shall we say of all powerful Rome itself, which withstood the multiplied shocks of the Gauls, Phy- rens, and Carthagenians ? She surrendered to luxury and riotous living. The Romans grew fond of the vices and indolence of the nations they subdued, and became as effeminate and dissolute as their captors. The result of their immense plunder loaded them with magnificent quantities of ori- ental indulgences, and the great harlot became drunk at heart and fell. " And now let us see how the present SECOND LECTURE. 57 character of the victims of intemperance corresponds to tlie picture, drawn by the ancients, of their god of the revel ; as Bac- chus was then drawn by a lion and tiger, so is he now drawn, in the chariot of licen- tious indulgence, by the savage Lion of Vice, and the deceptive Tiger of Fashion. For, though the corrupt fashion of the pres- ent day may appear ineek, harmless and beautiful, inviting us by its caresses, yet oh, beware ! for, verily , like the tiger-cat, be- neath that smooth and glossy exterior she hides a poisoned tooth and murderous claws. And old Bacchus wore the skin of a leopard on his back, significant of the spotted char- acter he bore, and the relentlessness of his attack. " And like the females of old that ac- companied the procession of Bacchus, alas, even beautiful and apparently harmless beings of our age, consent to surround the gilded chariot of intemperance, and, robed in the alluring gar)) of accomplished charms, they carry to many a poor heart the gol' ■ >n basket of delicious fruit in which venomed adders lurk, sharper in their bite than the asps of Cle(3patra ; for, how often l! "f • .■sa&sss. "'tv.'v'-. . ■"•>-'''" 'tlP V ' I «M 58 THE PRODIGY. fr'IP . i 11 iili. h '« 1 1 does some lair dame proffer the glittering wine cap to her companion to pledge her health. Oh, could she foresee the future, many a flaunting beauty, glittering with jewelled splendor, would cry out with the poor widow, — ' Oh pledge mo not, though the wine is bright/ &c. * " But the victories of the ancient Bac- chus were said to be bloodless ; he subdued by sapping the vigor of the nation ; and so does he now ; the wine cup cuts smarter than the sword. Yet his conquests are not all bloodless — there are the bloody noses of a drunken carousal, the blood-shot eyes of the dizzy inebriate, and the purple drops from the bleeding hearts of widows and orphans, crying unto God for vengeance on the heartless rum-seller, and heartless tempter, who ruined their earthly bliss. Moreover, the ancients sacrificed pigs to their imagined god. would that nothing better were sacrificed now ; but, alas ! noble men, types of God's own image, are immolated on the lurid altars of in- toxication aaid beastly dissipation. The pure, the bright, the beautiful, where are SECOND LECTURE. 5D 'J [11- he they ? Their very ashes cry unto us, that they have passed into the pit, reserved as the drunkard's home. " But more striking still is the repre- sentation of Bacchus, seated upon a celes- tial globe, spangled with stars ; for now, at this enlightened era, the very god of dissi- pation, with disgusting effrontery, impu- dently bestrides our world, spangled as it is with the covert actions of genius and beauty. Alas, the burning shame it is, that the accursed demi-god. Intemperance, can vauntingly sit upon his throne and spread his dark black wings of dissipa- tion and vice over the fair face of our land, and we calmly sit in the very shadow of his pinions, discovering him lording it over the noblest works of God. I tell you we want the mighty engine of Temperance Reform, to rise in all its majestic dignity and power, and send such a startling earth- quake through this universe as will make the reeling drunken monarch fall from his proud elevation, and send the Bacchanalian deity to the gloomy shades of Pluto." * * CHAPTER VIII. Thoughts Lofty — Imagination Briglit — Essay on Imagi- nation and Fancy — Mental I'lodder — Early Hours Improved. **■ Among some poets and declaimers, it often appears that they phiy on language, and substitute words lor thought ; or, in other words, in their compositions they use many beautiful sentences to express a few meagre thoughts ; or, as some would say, " language is well developed," but there is not much imagination, fancy, or depth of thought in their composition. Still they may attempt to edify an audience with a Hood of elegant words, and endeavor to overwhelm them by their bewildering elo- quence,- without aflbrding any instruction to the mind — they fail to present useful and original thought, in lively figures, and precepts of morality in such a manner cs to leave an impression for good, by instill- ing into the mind principles of virtue and honor. I LOFTY THOUGHTS. 61 The youth we here feebly ittempt to describe, had not only a rich variety of magnificent and lofty thoughts, but such was his lively imagination and brilliant fancy, as to place him quite a])Ove his e(iuals in years. He could even, at that period in life, grasp subjects of metaphysical science, and give illustrations unique and interesting. His views on " Imagination and Fancy" we will here give a place, com- posed by him when about sixteen years of age. It will show how closely he could think on metaphysical ^'ibjects, when but a tender youth. . . I >> \\ t I ) lo- )n lul n- Imagination and Fancy. " In the consideration of this subject, it is not ni}^ object to give a learned and comprehensive definition of tlie two terms selected as the theme of this article ; nor, metaphysically, to enter into an abstruse philosophy regarding the qualities of mind they represent; but rather, by virtue of concrast and comparison, to view the rela- tion they bear to each other, and thus we will view one term in the mental lii>:ht that ^f 62 THE PRODIGY. i! 1 s i Hi ; 1 is reflected from the consideration of the other; and, by that means, gather a more correct appreciation of the true meaning of each word, and ascertain where they are to be used, as in the study of the hmguages, by learning the Greek, we will find it easier to gain a knowledge of the Latin, and vice versa. " That there is a great difference of meaning in the expressions ^ imagiriation' and 'fancy hardly any would deny, and that tney are often very improperly used indiscriminately, is patent to every one who has read the common literature of the day. " Although there is an obvious differ- ence in the distinct and well-marked quali- ties of the mind designated by Imagination, and not by Fancy, yet there is a natural ground intermediate to the two, where you can ntuther claim the soil as entirely com- posed of Imagination nor Fancy — like the twilight at the approach of evening, when the glories and glare of day are softened down to the mellow hue that imbues the air, and the gloom of night is alleviated by the diffusive light of the declining day, and IMAGINATION AND FANCY. 68 >y lid even if you would iiHsi^n a limit to each, and say, here one begins and the otlier ends, it would be like the shore oi the sea, the Avaters tinged with the sanil or sea weeds of the land, and the beach glittering with pe]j]>les and shells thrcjwn up by +oe restless waters, and varnished by the spray ; so Imagination and Fancy would be tinted and coloured with the irresistible inlluence of each other. Imagination contains Fjincies and bears fancy along lik-e the celestial gales bearing the clouds of lieaven, or many productions of fancy float upon the strong currents of imagination like bul)bles on a stream ; for Imagination and Fancy beautify each other. " Again, Imagination is the result of intellect, and depends on good judgment and thought for its power ; ])ut Fancy is more the result of accident, or is but a delicate child of chance sprung from the maternal arms of fortuitous circumstances. Imagination is more manufactured. Fancy more created, (i.e.) Imagination has some- thing for its origin, and carefully elaborates or brilliantly decorates its theme with my- MdiliStff' 64 THE PRODIGY. riadH of the productioiiH of fancy ; like a queen, robed in diamonds, it nictaniorphoHOB its su])ject into ho many gorgeous hues, and gives it so many artificial tints, that we scarcely know the article-, but still the materials wc/e there, or rather the frame was there, but Imagination has put it all together and so beautiliod it. '^ While Fancy is produced, when needed, to suit the occasion, or springs of itself into view, unbidden and unsuspected, like the tlaming meteors that leap from the illimitable tracts of space, and dazzle the beholder with their glory. To take Imagi- nation from Fancy would be to take the sun from the stars, for its light would follow. ' . " Imagination is liku the forest com- plete with giant boughs and trunks of mighty trees, awful but still ; and Fancy is the breeze that sweeping through that forest, fills it with melody and soul-stirring music, or like the birds that perch in the branches. " Fancy is like the flowers of the field, gay and beautifully spontaneous — a glori- ous idea subjected to Fancy, tossed on its IMAOINATION AND FANCY. 65 y o gay ripples ; Init Imagination heaves it in torn from vigorous ly, until the water lily its moorings and is carried tempestuously on the surging hillows." Evidently the subject of this memoir shows a peculiar range of thought and strength of mind in the metaphysical dis- quisition on ** Imagination and Fancy." And, with rare and beautiful ligures, points out the relation they bear to each other. He was never dull or heavy ; but, in a certain sense, he was a '' mental plodder" — that is, in deep thought and close study, he was peculiar even from childhood ; always exandning objects that surrounded him, and philosophising upon them. His early hours were carefully im- proved in spiritual and mental culture. He was no idler. His mind being very active, it was always employed analyzing or examining some great subject. n I #1 ■ -.-..^...4i**ya f"* -SB-fJ -«TJ" 'II f 4^ 1 '* CHAPTER IX. Moral Character MaintJiincd — His Conversion — Difficulties in the way of Penitents — Faith Conneet«id with Eepent- ance — His 8tatine, &c. — Strength oi' Intellect — Attach- ment to Friends — Letter to his Sister. From childJiood he always iiiaintained a good moral and religious character. Nursed in the lap of piety, and trained up under the parental roof in the way in which he should go, his early moments were spent in the fear of God, and his life so uniform and consistent, that he never wandered over barren wastes in pursuit of flying vanities or fading flowers ; nor did he ever in the days of youth turn aside from his onward course, to drink of every gliding stream of carnal pleasure; there- fore, he not only escaped, but was scarcely exposed to many pit-falls into which the wayward are so often ensnared ; of him it might truly be said that when pleasure beckoned from the valley he resolutely turned away, and steadfastly pursued his pathway up the hill of science. Though his walk was such as become tli HIS CONVERSION. 67 lie it re lis ith the Christian, still ho was witliout a clear evidence of a change of heart till his six- teenth year. During three or four months he had been anxiously seeking for the Holy Spirit to bear witness with his spirit, that he w^as a child of God. And, accord- ing to his own account of tlie circum- stance — one eveninii', when alone, while engaged in reading a fictitious work, for which he had been reproved l)y his parents, feeling, a degree of condemnation upon his mind, he concluded if reading such works kept him from enjoying an evidence of the favor of God, when he had finished that book he WTuild read no more such. But at that moment, the conviction Hashed across his mind, that for such a compromise God would be offended, and justly withhold from him the blessing he so anxiously de- sired. It just then occurred to him, that the great question of entire consecration to God should be decided that moment. He looked to the Lord for wisdom and strength to enable him to yield a willing obedience. There was a desperate struggle in his mind. But at once he closed the book, unfinished, resolving, by the grace of God, to be de- (.3 I ir. as it: ii C8 THE PRODIGY. '■ il: vout and consistent in all things; and, Looking to God, through faith in the Great Redeemer, he fell upon his knees, and gave his whole heart to God, consecrating all upon the altar of the Most High. His prayer ascended with pathetic memorial before the throne of God, and he then, for the iirst time felt a peace of mind, and a consciousness of divine favor, such as he had never before experienced. His cup ran over. His soul was filled with joy and gladness, and ever after he continued to enjoy a rich experience of the things of God, and could always give a reason for the hope within him. Some penitents find it difficult to be- lieve for a present salvation. Ruminating upon their past sins, and present unworthi- ness, they fear the Lord will not 7iow par- don, but hope to obtain mercy after they repent a while longer, as if mourning over their sins would merit the favor of God. But we can make ourselves no better. There is no merit in anvthino^ we can do to earn heaven. If we should mourn over our sins till the day of our death, it would avail us nothing. Repentance implies ii FAITH AND REPENTANCE. 69 sorrow for sin. There is no promise of pardon to the impenitent. True repent- ance is therefore one hinge on which our salvation turns. But faith is the scriptural condition of our justification — " Therefore being justified by faith we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." There is therefore a degree of correspond- ing faith connected with true repentance ; and the most discriminating mark, or dis- tinguishing feature in true repentance is — forsahing sm. If repentance is true and genuine, it will incline us to hate present sins as well as past. When the penitent arrives at this point, and firmly resolves, in the strength of the Lord, to forsake all sin, and accept Christ as our only Saviour, the work is accomplished. Thus it was this young man repented, believed, laid hold of the p /omises and was saved. Then be could say, he knew in whom he believed. His piety was not of the gloomy kind. He 1 anifested a natural refinement of manners, and a humorous shrewdness, that rendered him most agreeable in the society of every class of pious and intelligent persons. ill ii ii 70 THE rnODIOY. In him there was Ijoth a spiritual and intellectual element developed at an early age, and he always manifested more than an ordinary eagerness tooljtain knowledge; and evidently possessed more than an or- dinary ability to acquire it. In stature he was tall, a little more than six feet. Straight and well formed, but slender. His countenance was agree- able. His head not large, but well bal- anced, and all the moral and intellectual fliculties appeared well de^ eloped, and his eyes sparkled with intelligence. But the casket was insufficient to con- tain the gem — his frame could not support such a lively, vigorous and powerful intel- lect. His mind being lighted up with bright intelligence, he exhibited a rare and beautiful combination of talents. He Avas famous for his colloquial powers ; and no adornment of the mind appeared want- ing to render him agreeable in the social circle, and to cause him to be admired by the intelligent. The strength of his intel- lect, and the feebleness of his pliysical frame would remind one of a frail steamship, propelled by a marine engine of a thou- GENERAL CHARACTEB. ^j sand-horse nown^ ^ ^^^ power, causinir if fn ^.,-i x from keelson to c-insf.n, / '''^^'^*^ .*"'*'''''"="-•« St:;: :::r^°'--^ He truly possessed very hi..}, i^, ,„ tual powers onri ^ -i , -^ ^^^^" i^tellec- clear' Viet 'o;'r'"'"^"^'f'-J '"-"ad and tract of ta *"■"•!''* ^^^' tl'o ordinary dolidited irT. '^"" ° '"'^ ""'^1- He Scier,ce and C;="'S *'"' ^-'' '-Ids of others. " ' '^"'P ™"'°« to enrich His heart was sjn f,,7i pi- , vv e nuiy form some concep- i-! ,1 - ! .■J, i ;iiiiii^ 72 THE PRODIGY. tion of this, from the following letter ad- dressed to his beloved and only sister — Mrs. Freeman, of Exeter. While he was at school in Toronto, on hearing of the death of her only child (which he had never seen), he wrote a letter of condolence, as follows : — '' Toronto, Feb. 21st. " Dear Sister, — I am in receipt of the letter conveying the mournful intelligence of the death of your s\yeet babe ; and I assure you, I deeply deplore your loss. '^ To-night, I wish I could be at home with you. I feel lonely and sad, think- ing of home and its recently mournful as- sociations. I lonjx to be there now, more than ever. Strange as it may appear, I would rather haver been amongst you all at the solemn funeral rites, to have felt the softening and hallowed intluence of your affliction, than to be a wanderer here, where I meet wdth no sympathizing word — no allusion to my sister's and her part- ner's grief; but all is cold and friendless among the heartless multitude of the city, LETTER OF CONDOLENCE. 73 and I must think alone, instead of sharing and taking part in the inlluences of home. * * * I feel a correspondi.ig sadness and regret that a ftither and mother should Lave their joy so soon quenched with sad- ness, and that upon their seal of gladness should be stamped the blight of sorrow. That, that sweet liglit which came to thy heart, promising to make thy life a time of sunshine, has gone out, and left thee in the gloom of grief. " But, glory to our Maker, we have cause for thankfidness ; the prospect is not all thus gloomy, for life does not end here. But every torch of life, quenched upon this earth, shall be re-lighted in the mansions of bliss, and its flame shall add another beam to that light which surrounds the throne of God in heaven. You can now have the sweet reflection that you have a claim to heaven, that your child, as one of God's ministrels, is assisting in the praises of your Great Creator. " How strange are the paths of life ! I dare say you little thought that, while you were assisting in comforting other be- reaved friends, you would so soon be placed .1. si *■ 5 ! 74 THE PRODIGY. in the position of a mourning mother. And while, for others, you Imve sung — Wo lay thoo in tho silent tomb, Swcot blossom of tho day, &c. You little supposed that so soon you would have to lay your sweet l)lossom in the grave, while its spirit goes to ripen under the smiles of its Saviour. Another little bark has floated Over death's cmbillowed tide, And hy celestial gales is wafted Safolj'" to tho other side ; Freed from life and all its labour, It is moored in heaven's harbour, There forever to abide. Father, Mother, bear up bravely, God has taken what he gave ; Not to be a constant inmate Of the silent gloomy grave ; But to be a saint in glory, And to sing the wonderous story Of our Saviour's power to eave. True it is, thy babe is taken From thy loving fond embrace 1 Ah ! but did not God, thy Maker, In the fuUtiess of his grace, S3 LETTER OF CONDOLENCE. Prom tho glorious homo in heaven, Let liis only Son be given As a Saviour to our race ? 75 And since He has condosccndcd To submit his only Sou To the insults of a nation, To be boat and spit upon, "Willingly should you deliver Up your babe to God tho giver, "Where, forever and forever It shall sit beside His throne. Love, thy cords cannot bo broken ; Death may try to snaj) tho charm ; But they are drawn up to heaven By the Great Eternal Arm. And those links shall linger o'er thee, Leading to the gates of glory, Till thy Saviour shall restore thee To th}'' babe's angelic form. I remain, yours in Christian love, and brotherly sj^mpathy," G. E. A. WINANS. r I iH CHAPTER X. nccamo n Local Pnjiichcr — Sttidics iMidicinc with Dr. CnrHon — Enters Norinul School — Enters CoUv^c — His Method — Essiiy on " Wiitcr," At this period in life he became con- siderably exercised in mind as to his pro- per path of duty. His parents had always disapproved of his indulging in his favour- ite muse — writing poems ; though he wrote SOI •, while a boy, that were by many con- sidered masterlv. Some of his friends advised him to study medicine; others advised him to turn his attention to the study of theology, and prepare for the Christian ministry. On a few occasions he was induced, as a local preacher, to proclaim a risen Saviour to his fellow-men, and his efforts were crowned with success. His sermons were highly intellectual, sound in theology, and deliv- ered in a pathetic manner, and were listen- ed to with both profit and delight. But, after mature reflection, he at length decid- ed on the study of medicine, and com- STUDIES MEDICINE. 77 menced as a medical stiuk'nt with his uncle, Dr. G. A. Carson, in the town of Whitl)y, and sul)se(iuently entered a medical college in Toronto. Having already received a literary training in t\\} Grammar School, in Brampton, and in the Normal School, in Toronto, he was soon ahle to pass throutrh the re(|uired studies in the college with great credit, and received his diploma to practice as a surgeon and i)hysician in Canada. When he first entered the college in Toronto, he proposed to hold a prayer meeting, every Thursday evening, among the students, and procured a room lor that purpose. These meetings were well attended by the most lespectable and thoughtful students in the college, and were continued every week till he left. Thus he carried his religion with him, all through his collegiate course. His chief aim was to do good. And in this way he was useful, in throwing a shield around many of his fellow-students, who were more inclined to be wayward than himself. Before he left the college, he deliver- ed before the professors and students the 6 i| 78 THE I'HODIUV. following essay on Wiiter, wliicii siboiinds with the most lively and nni([ue figures, and was delivered in such a sprightly and eloquent manner as to secure great ap- plause from all who heard him. Both in speaking and in writing his method was to ))aint his pictures from liv- ing landscapes, and then gaze on their beauties until his genius was fired up ; and then he would throw into the picture all the warmth and inspiration he felt. He could scarcely speak or write a sentence, in prose or verse, but he evinced tlights of imagination above his years, both as a poet and as a declaimer, as may be in- ferred from his essay on Water, which reads as follows : — I AYATER. '< Water sprang from tlio arms of Creation when tlio world received its birth, And formed the boundless ocean that wiaiiped the infant Earth. *' For, as the dawn of infancy first smiled npon this virgin w^orld of ours, Sl[)- all K^HAY ON WATKU. ^^ Water became Iut ^u.. i u- "-«'- light >;:;:? 7'^. -''. 'Let of r,ulia.co bur«t o'er t e ?h""' ""•^■''™'' , >^reathod tlK. W,,, to^r ,, T '"'• gaucly mngni/ioence " ''"'^'^ "f f^'-iglUncss Hashed b^^'k t h'^ '"•' ""^'■'• .i"d .shiveri,,,.. action '""^' ™''"'' •fra.ne. " ''"" '^''""'^ Creation's the «;;S;?'r"-''-ve been ho>nes. '''■"'"'■"* *" their defined f -' tit ci;ir:nT -^'^"^ --'»KilK.avi„g,,ssr";,^^-'"S'-^^ their reekino- .;,u.^ „ ''"'canoes from «h"ok, and m„ ' ■ '"""'''"« '''"""'^ mountains reared their shac^-^v " 1 i ' , 5 i-i i>k 1 ''tl 80 THE PRODIGY. i I ii^ heads to bathe them in the sky ; and, guided ])y the inscrutable finger of Provi- dence, every drop oi water slid into its various forms of power and beauty. They congregated to form the mighty ocean, the grand reservoir* of moisture, the bosom of the maiden earth, where tlie heart and soul of Nature throb with waves of passion. The waters iilled the desert vales to form the glassy lakes. It gushed in gargling rills from the hoary mountain's brov>% and dashed onward through the sunliulit of day and the moonlight of eve, till silver streamlets veined the valleys green, and noljle rivers marched along to kiss the ocean's lip. And at the caresses of the first warm sun-beam, in the balmy mist of the morning, it leaped on high to the calm heavens, till all the scenery of earthly beauty was curtained in by the delicate lace-»work of feathery clouds. And, when appeased Deity would show to man his warm forgiving love, hoi)e looked from heaven tln'ough rain-bow tears, and smiled a promise of God's everlasting mercy. '• Thus, in the morning of time, water became earth's most honoured element ; ESSAY ON WATER. 81 his lied Iter enveloped in its purity, it made its first appearance. It was considered worthy to receive the first sublime and majestic man- ifestation of the presence of God which the world witnessed; for 'The Spirit of God moved upon the face of tlie waters.' . " It caught the first gleam of starlight that threaded its way through the pitchy gloom of uncreated night, and the first glow of sunshine that fell from the dazzling fir- mament of day. " And then the water entered upon its holy mission of beautifying and enrich- ing the world, imparting its blessed influ- ence throuL!;h all the ranQ;e of nature. It decked the sky the air, the land, till it be- came earth's softest veil, her brigiitest jewel, her richest dress, and lier sublimest source of beauty and delight. It exhibits, in its magical presence, the rarest, loveliest perfection earth contains ; for, in the brightness of its form, in its motion and its music, water has become perfection's clear- est type. *' Faultless symmetry is portrayed in the delicate crystals of the snow-flakes that float the wintry air with stainless blossoms. llfti 82 THE PRODIGY. and in the diamond points of ice weaving ' their .silver wel^ across the frigid hrook. The suljliniest grandeur resounds in the reverberating booms at the roaring strands of Niagara, or in the thundering billows of the howling ocean, lashed into boiling fury hy the angry winds. Richest music dwells in the mellow murmur of the purling brook, in the silvery ring of the laughing rill, in the euphonious tinkle of the patter- ing rain-drops, and in the love-song of the amorous lake, as it wooes the shelly shore with dancing waves and gentle melodies. '' The most gor^'eous painting eye hath viewed, done in the sweetest of colors, is displayed in the matchless rainbow, tinging the azure firma^nent with gently -blending tints. There is shown the loveliest pic- ture that time hath e'er produced ; for the Divine Artist in water dips his brush, and beams of glory paint the glowing portrait of mercy on tlie blue wr.Us of heaven. What richer sight to man is given, than, Avhen the summer's sun-shower, with all its lavish wealth of liquid jewels, filling the air and gemming the earth, calls forth that sweet harbinger of peace and love, ESSAY ON WATER. 83 " As if pearls from far off mines. And chrysophrasic rubies bright, And diamonds, brought from eastern shrines, Were melted to a sea of liirht. ic- lie id lit in. In, ill ^g '* And angels dipp'd their star-gem'd cups Into the crystal's limpid tide, Then sprinkled out the glittering drops Upon the earth afar and wide. '' And, in each rain drop's airy fall, They catch the sunbeams gentlest prints. Till every globules jasper wall Is pencilled o'er with blushing tints. " Then every tint from every drop, Into the air its colors shed, Till round the sky, from base to top, The rainbows gorgeous pinions 82)read. '* High in the bright otherial skies Then hangs (^ueen Beauties circling wreath, And pours its smile of mingling dyes On the adoring world beneath. Water is the universal source of eartlily life ; without it, every blooming cheek would fade, eacli rosy lip soon wither up, and every tongue grow hot and stiff, till man's internal heat would burn him to death. All vegetation soon would 84 TiIE PRODIGY. lo«e the freslinesB of its juico; and every plant, shrub, tree and llower, soon turn to sordid dust. Then well may the poet call water — " Liib blood of the might}' eartli, Flowing from creation's birth." For, Avhen tli .f winter are dissolved hy the warm and rosy touch of spring, then every river .swells and bursts its glistening bands, and becomes a throbbing artery, through which leaps the life blood of the mighty earth, darting life through sleeping plains, nourishing the fainting valleys, waking up the drowsy land, and iiliing the wilderness with the glad language of birds, and streams, and whispering leaves. " And when the rugged side of eartli is pierced to where this life blood throbs in hidden channels, f(3rth from the wounded vein, leaps the silvery shaft of the bright fountain, its cool sweet waters, rich with health and beauty, poured from Nature's generous heart. " And when spring comes, with the violets unfolding thei'' azure petals and ^■ jt«P^ ESSAY ON WATER. 85 exhaling a moist fragrance, when the dells are lilled with the liquescent music of crys- tal cascades, and she breathes with her breath of warm sun-beams on the sturdy maple, stiftened with the grasp of the frost king, then the red veins of the noble tree swells with its life blood of sweetened water, and, upward through the trunk, darts the vivifying current, till the branches of the naked monster tingle with a warm emotion, and unfurl their banners of bright green leaves to the kisses of the summer gale. Then behold this beautiful water, the most delicious treasure offered to man. It claims our loftiest admiration in whatever form we view it; whether waving in the silken banners of the sky, or in the many colored splendors of the Iris ; whether shining in the icicles that trim Dame Nature's robe with silver fringe, or in the frost jewels Avhich spangle her glittering breast ; whether seen in the diamond beads of rain, sifted from out the crystal founts of heaven, or dashed in pearl showers un the shore from foamv crested waves. ;! 8G THE rRODIGY-. " The theme enhirirc as we view it, hevond its mere rehation to the thiiiR-s of time ; it has a loftier sphere. " How sweetly does it emblem forth the graces of a Ghri!>:tian soul. As the clear streams of water twine around our earth, filling the air with a sound of rip- pling music, so the pure streams of Mth, hope and charity in sweet concord, play around our hearts, blending their peaceful waters, and filling the soul with their magic eloquence. And as every bursting rill anr' glidinj; brook, every glassy river and frothy cataract, speed ^beir course on- Avard to the mighty deep, so, all the divine emotions of the human soul, tend upward, and onward llowing, empty into the ocean of redeeming love, at the foot of our Father's throne ; and, as water draws its canopy of clouds over our heads, vitalizing the soil beneath our feet, and moistens the very atmosphere we breath, so Lovje Divine un- furls its banner above us, spiritualizes the foundation of our faith, and we may breathe its ])ure essence until we are partakers of its nature." CHAPTER X. starts for the United States— A Scene on Laki; Ontari Vi si ts Fa 1 1 s of N ia^\e earth's bridal veil." After gazing with rapture upon the scenes presented below the Falls, he clam- bered, with giddy emotions, over rocks, gathering pebbles and flowers till he ascended the dizzy height above him ; then he visited the tower on Goat Island, the " Cave of the Winds," under '* Table Rock," and cut his name on a rock's smooth cheek, where names innumerable are inscribed in that locality. After see- ing, wdth delight, all that was to be seen at the Falls, he left for. Albany, the capital of the State of New York. CITAI'TEli XII. He arrivcl in the city of Albanv 1, f Saturday lUKlit .,..,] h/.r ^ '"'*' "» ^''iUHlay travellin!.-," he ,■..,», " Sahbath, to cniov th 1 '""'""cd over ' ^"J'^y t'Je means ol' j journeying mercies, arnon .vtr ^ '*""-' '*'"* God in Albany, hJaS t"' ' ^'^^l"" ^^ met in class wi h b'th T""""''' ""^ time, ni the United States '''■'' On Monday morning he visifprl *. f'tato capitol, the City rJi ^d f places of note or„l n. ' "" "*'"-'r I'oi-e the i:Z tz/TTt 'r-'' examination as t<. hi! ,h "'*^' ^"'• l"'"f-«ion. Hi anl ""'"'•■"*•' "' '"« ,. -x- answers wero o-iN^r.,, • ^'■'ti»g. Between 10 am 1!)%^ ,'" produced seven folio no , P'""'' ''« ^ «i« examination bein, 'S ?>! ■!^ ''n^^-'t SMAGE KVALUATJON TEST TARGET (MT-3) 4?^ ^"t^ %) 1.0 hi lie g2.8 2.5 « .,. I" I.I I '- 11^ - 6" 1.8 US IIIIIJU 116 en Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WSbSTER.N.Y. 14580 (7:6) 072-4503 4 ^^ ^ff \^^ ^^\. ^> > '%^^ i"- IMI m Ra C^ 92 THE PRODICrY. I* r-*r > 11 ,1. S5i f- ii^ 'i: m •if- highly satisfactory, with many compli- ments for his brilliant attainments, he receiv(;d an appointment as Surgeon in General Grant's army, and was directed to report himself at the City of Washington. On his way from Albany to New York, he was delighted with the scenery down the Hudson's River. Writing to his brother from New York, he gives a graphic description of his trip — especially that part of it on the river. He states — •' I rode down the Hudson River rail- road. It was exciting. As you have witnessed the scenery, I need not describe it. But is it not surpassingly beautiful ! And how thrilling to be attached to a * steam lightning bolt, and be Hashed thi'ough tunnels, woods of brightest green, over streams, bridges, roclcs, through yawn- ing chasms, where huge creations of rocky immensity scowl above the heads, not even the blue sky can make them smile, though they seem so near it. But the green ver- dure can. And, as we launched from the dismal gloom of caves, out smoothly, sweetly, quietly, into the placid Hudson, where the railroad splits the River, and ") ' .1 ft I 'if f^MOtti-^^ \ EETV'. W.vr H WliKAm. 00 ■'TIT? Tin/^TlT/lir ■4k u f H 11 1 ^^i *i-'' ■^^ . V IVo.n .Xi^'U-].^ '■ New I' 1 rwi*;' ih.wn tl?-' i !i j:-^^ n R; /:-?- rr-il DIM '^h-r-Uiv. 'A hi']';- iuii;.:,(' l■r^ .I'i'm-- - ■]' vwliv tilt.:' t;i»;-f ^^.v\, ■/.r . '".fkc \ ii' :?) '^h .^ 1 hnu."'!! I hey -t'r'n :-u ,1^' . ' !]ut r;w „•■«-»■■! , !.-r- svvt'uiiy, nuicLiy, luuu tii-j puiuiu ixuuhuh, where the rjiih'oad (splits the River, and REV. Wm. H. WTNANS. 1 5< .i ,) FROM ALBANY TO NEW YORK. 98 contends for the dominion of the water with the streams, (exchanging the harsh roar and crash of rocky echoes for the calm mild hum over the gliding rails through the river, then we could see those earthly tuberosities tipped, not with cartilege, but the vernal bloom of tree, bush and fields of green, stretching away in curves over the rounded shoulders of the earth, terminat- ing in the majestic ^ CatskilL' " We had a companion in our ride — the old sun had just sunk on a level with the tops of the distant mountains, and seemed to race along with us. I went on the platform to watch the chase, and away we went, sun and train, — we slightly in advance. As the solitary courser of the sky flew on, he grew red in the face, and plunged desperately through the mcr.n- tain's peaks, that tried in vain to bar his passage, not deigning to ride over them. He some times seemed buried in the mon- strous masses, but would lunge out again, tinging the horizon, crimsoned with excite- ment ; and on we went, floating through gold and purple, and blue clouds, while we t 'i 94 THE PRODIGY. whirled through gloom and gleam, and glow of rocks, and billows, and sun set. " Arriving at a station, diverted my attention ; but, when again seated in the cars, with window open, I saw that the sun, which we had left out of sight, by some turn in the road to the west, had now got ahead of us, and was still hovering i>ver mountain and plain, while the river grew red with his reliections, and was a tiag of liis conquest ; but we speedily out-distanced him again, and he hid his head. Just now the firemen came rustling past, with shout, rattle, and roar, down Broadway, remind- ing me that I was in the great city of New York. I have much more to sav, but, lor the present, I stop. I have been writ- ing this as hurriedly as my pen could move, and hardly know what I have written, but will write you again soon." While in New York he visited Central Park, and many other places of interest ; and was delighted in meeting with a fiiend — Dr. A. Corson, who had been a fellow student with him in College, at Toronto. After purchasing his uniform, and an outfit for his journey, he proceeded to w t AT WASHINGTON. 95 Pbiladelpliiji, nm\ IVoiii tlicnce throii<:li Biiltiiuoro, and jil'tcr twelve hours run on tlie cars, arrived at Washington, and im- mediately entered upon his duty as a sur- geon in the great Harewood Hospital, near the City. While he romainod at the hospital, he wrote several communications to his friends in Canada, respecting aflairs in tlie United States. , . • . , These comiininications found their way into the LoikIou Fnc Prc-^^s, the O/oen Sound Comet, and other newspa|:>ers of ,the day, and were read with considerable interest. But some of his communications reached the eye of the more scrupulous part of an interested class of Americans, who, without cause, anpeared to look upon him with suspicion, fearing he was not fully in sympathy with their cause. But they found him to be a youth of unflinch- ing and sterling integrity. They had only to know him, and then, w^ould appreciate iiis excellencies of diaracter. --.-t One of these communications we here copy from the Oiren Sound Comet, \\7. : ,,,^ ac THE PRODIGY. <• IIarewood Hospital, Washington, May 29th, 18G4. " Dear Ones at Home, — Although op- posed to employing the sacred hours of the Sa])bath in letter writing, the extraordi- nary circumstances in which I am placed, must be my aijology for spending a few moments of the evening of this eventful day, in penning a line or two to the anxious ones at home. " What a panorama of events has, passed before my eyes since I wrote to you last. I have seen New York in all its glory, and Washington in all its misery. I now write beneath the calm serenity of a Southern sky, while the holy calm of a Sabbath evening rests upon the earth, but not in the hearts of the busy crowd by which I am surrounded. To remove all apprehensions that may exist in any of your minds, as regards my welflire, I will state my circumstances. After writing from New York, I concluded to go on to Washington, so I completed my arrange- ments with the officials of the W. S., and on Friday night received my commission, LETTER FROM IIAREWOOD. »7 I and was ordorod to report immediately at Washington, pansports being furni.slicd me. I purchased my uniform, and left New York Saturday night for Washington, where I arrived this morning at 11 o'clock. I presented myself at the director's office, and was ordered on to IlareAvood Hospital, and I am just now reminded of my mili- tary position, by hearing the clear ])last of the winding bugle echoing over hills and dales, calling the soldiers in from their wanderings for the evening. Oh, what a place is this ! would I had a painter's pen- cil anil an inspired pen to paint what I see, and tell you what I hear. But it is Sab- bath evening, and I nmst not transgress. This afternoon, on my arrival here, I witnessed the funeral of a captain. The SStars and Stripes' were laid on his coffin, and they marched away to the dead- house, the band playing an old Methodist tune. The afternoon was lovely, the sky rich blue, the grass dark green and three feet high, and the procession in uniform winding around the picturesque valley, and up the hill slopes, wdiile the solemn tones of the band mournfully falling upon the 98 THE rilODIGY. II ear ; all caused a strange tbeling of sadness. I am so tired and sleepy, T must close. But oh, liow often have I thought to-day of home, and our church service, while here it is hurly-burly, bustle and tussel, roll of drums, squeaking of fifes, tramp of infantry, and swearing of poor sinners, mingled with the groans of the invalids and shrieks of those under the surgeon's knife and saw, ringing in my ears just now, all making a strange di.scord with devotional thoughts, I wish I could hear the voice of prayer to- night. Monday MoRNitTG. '^' This is one of the loveliest vspots on earth. It was formerly the pleasure grounds of a Virginian gentleman, and is known as the Corcoran Estate. We are just two miles from Washington, and have a beautiful view of the capitol as it majes- tically towers above the city. Nature seems to have surpassed herself in beauti- fying this spot. We are stationed on a slight elevation of ground, amidst an end- less succession of hills, dales and plains, all carpeted with long, green, waving grass ; bowers of trees and bushes rise here and LEVTEll FROM HAREWnoD. 09 there ; a bcfiutifiil stream runs in Iront of our hea(l([uarterH. But it cannot be de- Hcrihed, the swells of ground are so graceful; groves resting on grassy slopes, and the bright luxuriance; of Southern vegetation, adds a charm most powerful. Our hospitid is about as much like what I expected as an ele])}iant resembles a mouse. Why, it is a town instead of one building ; it covers about eight acres of ground. The buildings are in long rows, side by side, each one being much longer than the long woodsheds at railroad sta- tions. Tlien there are tent hospitals, each one about 90 or 100 feet in length. I have one barrack and six tent hospitals under my charge. These are' filled with wounded and sick, comprising one hundred and sixty patients, which I have to visit twice every day. Why, they think no more of cutting off a leg or arm, than you do in Canada of pulling a tooth. During the few hours I was here yesterday, I saw more surgery and blood than I had seen in all my life before. I do not know how many legs and arms I have seen amputated since I iUO THE PRODIGY. have been here ; they were heaped up on the floor, legs and arms in groat piles together, and blood covered the floor so thickly that we might well say, ^ we were wading in blood.' !•! I We have about 2,200 patients which, with the officers and soldiers on duty, give a population of over 3,000. Think of all this at one hospital. Before I wrote last night, I had visited my 160 patients, and administered to their wants. The work is very heavy and trying, but the practice is most excellent, and Avill do ine nmch good. The surgeon I 'am to relieve, leaves i?i the morning for another field of labor. The officers and surgeons occupy one of the long barrack hospitals. It is fitted up into pri- vate rooms. The business is all done here. The surgeons rank with the officers, and are treated in every respect the same way, eating and associating with them. By the time I write again, I will know more of this extensive hospital, the largest around Washington. The weather is very warm and sultry ; vegetation far ' -f-^ SECOND LETTER. 101 in advance of Canada. Yesterday I had a good dinner at Washington, on green peas and other vegetables, just sproiithig with you. Affectionately yours, ' Geo. E. a. Wikans. Also, he wrote to Dr. G. A. Carson, of Whitby, Canada West, on the 2nd day of June, 18G4, and, in describing the place, he states : '^ We are about two miles from Wash- ington. The scenery around us is exceed- ingly beautiful, amidst the most luxurious abundance of natural loveliness. Vegeta- tion is in its full flourish around our tents and barracks. The^ tall grain waves, and the full heads of wheat have commenced to ripen m the broiling sun. Graceful bil- lows of land swell away from us on every side, intersected by grassy ravines and leaping brooks. The rich perfume of flowers and blossoming fields, come over the hills, and tall trees, robed with the richest green foliage, spread out, sheltering arms of shade, gathered in clumps on the ! •yi^mmmmm i !'- ii 102 THE PRODIGY. hill side; and bounding us in, including a space of some three or four hundred acres, known as the Corcoran's Estate, now used for military purposes. " Our grounds for the sick and wound- ed occupy a space of, (I suppose) about two hundred acres. There are between seventy and eighty tents, each tent holding twenty beds, and barracks I know not how many, each one holding sixty or seventy beds. " They are wooden buildings, about the same colour and shape of a railroad station woodshed. Then there are head- quarters, the guard house, the dead house, band house, connnissary's establishment, and a ,host of other buildings for the different offices, &c. ^' The patients number about two thousand two hundred, and with the soldiers on guard, medical officers, nurses, cooks, waiters, &c., it must bring the popu- lation up to about three thousand. " Affairs are conducted on a magniii- cent scale. In the dining-room, five hun- dred sit at one table. Medicines are dispensed lavishly ; ounces of morphine are used every day, hogsheads of simple cerate, and every thing else in proportion. SECOND LETTER. 103 "After I was installed in office, I found my duties were hy no means trivial, but severely arduous. In one day many legs and arms are amputated, gallons of ether used, and many kegs of bloody spilt. I was given gne hundred and sixty -tliree patients to attend to ; most of them badly wounded, and requiring to be dressed twice a day. I was furnished with two ward masters ; four dressers, and eight nurses, but with charge to see all the wounds dressed myself. But oh, the superhuman effort ! I tried it for three days, and gave out. I found I had more than I could do, and more than any other surgeon here. * * I have to write six or eight pages of pre- scriptions every day. You may partly imagine what, the work must be. ^' Yesterday I complained to the exe- cutive officer, and he found I had too much to attend to ; so he relieved me of my bar- racks' ward, and I kept the tents, with one hundred patients in them. " This is the most extensive hospital near Washington. It is a tremendous affiiir, and there is not one in the world better supplied — oranges, lemons, ice, milk. 104 THE PRODIGY. V' 1} ■ i( K > wine, and every thing the poor patients need is furnished. * * * " We have a splendid view of the capitol from our position here. But tlie weather is meltinc^ hot. With all I like • ..... it ; every thing is in militar}^ order ; bugles sound the morning echoes 'mongst the hills ; drums beat up the marches ; the band plays at intervals. There is a con- stant tramp, tramp, of soldiers and horses ; ' and in the evening, the chorus of violins and fifes mingling with the melodious songs of the German patients, of ' mine fadder land' come cwelling through the gentle air with soothing effect. * * * " Your ever grnteful and affectionate Nephew, G. E. A. WiNANS." CHAPTER XIII. Arrives in City o Alexandri;i— Kinbarks on board a Float- ing Hospital — Voyage tlirough Chesapeake Bay — Extract of Letter to his Parents. After faithfully discharging his duty as surgeon in the great Harewood hospital, near Washington, for several weeks, he (with several other physicia^is) was ap- pointed to take charge of the sick and wounded soldiers, to be placed in a floating hospital, an immense and elegantly fitted up vessel, for that purpose, then lying at at the City of Alexandria, bound for fortress Monroe. On his passage, while on the Chesa- peake Bay, he wrote to his parents as follows : * '' — ■ — 1 have changed my position. I am at present on board the large vessel Npao Worlds on our way to Fortress Munroe. On Wednesday, the 15th inst., as I was making a ' post mortem,' an order came for me to report myself at the City of Alex- .andria that night, to go on board the 105 u ^■ :! . 106 THE PRODIGY. ' hospital transport ' New World. I ordered up an ambulance, which took me to Wash- ington. I then proceeded to the ferry and found all the vessels and ferries stopped for the night. I showed my orders, and pressed for a transport^ when the Captain ordered up a steam tug, which conveyed me to Alexandria, where I found the New World to he the largest vessel I had ever seen. She is a monster. In fact the third largest vessel in the world. The Great Eastern first, the St. John next, and the Neio World comes next. She is a four-decker, four hundred feet long. Extensive arrange- ments have been made for the sick and wounded soldiers. ^' Do you recollect when we were in Galena, there was great talk in the news- papers about the New World built to sail on the Hudson River ? Well, this is the one. I remember well she was then sfwd to be the largest boat in the world. Little did I then think I would ever be a surgeon upon her ! In childish simplicity I then wondered what she would look like. " The steamer Neio World was pur- chased by the United States Government, A FLOATING HOSPITAL. 107 and the engines taken out ; then she was thoroughly repaired, and fitted up for a floating barge, to receive wounded soldiers till disposed of to some other vessel or hos- pital. She is to be tugged by other steamers. At present the Conneeticiit, a very large sidewhcel steamer, has us in tow ; and we sail along at a fast rate. *' I find the medical officer a very agreeable and obliging person, and the medical staff are all interesting persons. " This boat is intended to accommo- date fifteen hundred patients, besides the crew, and, on an emergency, she will stow away (they say) three thousand. She is fitted up in grand style — richly traced with mouldings and gildings, hung with rich lamps and splendid adornings. " We did not leave Alexandria till Thursday evening, and, in the silver gleam of moonlight, steamed down the rippling waters of the Potomac till midnight, and anchored till morning, and then weighed anchor, and have been sailing down the Potomac ever since, having passed * Look out Point,' where there are so many rebel prisoners kep"^. We are out in the Chesa- 108 THE PRODIOY. i ! peako, in the salt hrakish water of tlie sea, gliding on and breasting against the swells that come in from the ocean. " The scenery on the Potomac was pleasant, but not striking, with undulating hills gently stretching off on each side the river. a There are ten of us medical officers here, and we expect soon to have plenty to do. I have been treated with much con- sideration. The surgeon in charge has given me the only patient now on board, and told me to prescribe for all that needed attention. " I have a fine room, furnished with bed, bedding, tables, &c., and am now sit- ting at my table, a pitcher of ice water and my books lying before me. I can look out of my window, as I sit here, over the shuffling swells of the green waters to the blue horizon. Not a cloud is visible in the faint blue sky to dim its radiance or throw the cool freshness of its shadow on the water. The bright billows afar off, in the thin rarified air, seem to be quivering in the *day king's' burning glances. But the cool sea breeze, wafted through my open ^!:. \ HAMPTON ROADS. 109 casement upon my sweating forehead, is refreshing. " This is my first day on salt water. We will soon be out on the broad ocean and then to our destination. " T feel thankful for this chjviige in my position. It will be more healthy and pleasant, sailing up and down the river, than to be prisoned up in one place all summer." * * * Having reached Hampton Roads, on Friday evening, on Saturday morning he wrote as follows, — " We reached here last evening, and are now riding at anchor in the famous Hampton Roads, ever to be remembered for the great sea fight between the Monitor and Merimac, Our vessel is about on the place of the conflict. A little at one side lies the Cumherland, her masts plainly visible above the water. On our prow frowns the brown walls of Fortress Munroe. On our stern lies the ' Rip Raps,' a large stone fort, upon a rock standing out of the water ; and to our left is Norfolk, and the locality w4iere the Merimac was burnt and 8 !i!f MS ^^^B J ;: - r ' ■ ^^B ^^^n no THE I'ftODIOY. blown up. Su, we are in the niid.st of asso- ciations of historic interest. " Last night, when we rode up this harbour, the captain took his chair, and came out on the front deck, where I sat alone, amid the warm Ijreezes from the land, that swept over us, and the white splendour of the moon light, thinking of home. He drew his chair up to me, and commenced humming ' Joyfully, joyfully,' &c. I joined in with the bass ; and our song then swelled through the ship, and out on the water. When he found some one to sing with him, he appeared delighted. We then sung ' Rest for the weary,' &c. . * Jesus, lover of my soul, Lot mo to thy bosom fly, While the noaror waters roll. While the tempest still is high : &c. He is a splendid singer. Soon another young surgeon came and joined us ; and then others struck in, and we had ' Homeward bound,' &c. And when we struck up * America,^ with the words PREPARINO FOR WORK. Ill • My country, 'tJH of thee, • Sweet land of liberty," &c., On the tunc of ' God save the Queen/ I tell you it rung out to the breeze; for nearly all joined their voiceH. ^ " Last night we had our respective wards assigned us. I have one just to suit me; the rear one, just off Avhat was the state cabin ; so that the state cabin is in my possession, with the berths opening from It. I have seven nurses given me, and we expect to sail up the James' river to-day, to take on patients." ■ H*-.!' 'j jiJiijBJflua'i CHAPTER XIV. Trip up Jftiues' River — View of tlu; (Country — Apprehen- sions of Danger — In Range of Enemies (hins — Ariives at VAty Point — Extract of Letter to a Friend — A bold ' Adventure— Letter to a Friend. The next day after writing the pre- ceding letter to his parents, he left for For- tresy Mimroe, on board the floating hospi- tal, and proceeded up the James' river, which was to him a pleasant trip. The medical staff being very sociable persons, every thing went on finely. There were many objects of interest to engage his attention. With a ^ field glass,' they took their station on deck, and had a fine view of the country as they passed along, and noticed many remnants of elegant man- sions, destroyed by the ravages of war — houses burnt, and the land pillaged. Devas- tation every where marked the progress of the war. Gunboats were thick in the river. They passed one, captured from the rebels, which was heavily plated with iron. 112 IN JAMES' RIVER. 113 Ai)prehenMionH ol' danger were iriaiii- leated by Home ot the crew, on learning that they were in range ol' the guerrilla'n guns, should they desire to give any trouble. Every moving object, on the bank, was therefore regarded with suspicion. They moved on safely, but were nuich occupied watching the various war crafts that were passing by. Amongst the rest, they passed the famous inm clad three turret monitor Rappahanock, and the Atlanta captured from the rebels. She was made from the funds furnished by southern ladies selling their jewellery for that purpose. On arriving at Charles' City Landing, they were hailed by a gunboat, and in- formed that General Grant Jiad moved his hose further up the river, and given up the city to the rebels, who were then in posses- sion of it. Unmolested they passed the city ; proceeding up the river, they arrived at City Point in the evening, when innu- ' merable lights appeared vividly dancing before them, like a firmament on earth. The lights streaked away for miles in the distance, seeming like a great city. But, in the morning, he was surprised to see lit m i MIS tlliiil k.' 114 THE PRODIGY. merely some dingy rows of tents on ranges of hills and many ships in the harbor. All was activity. Steamers, gunboats, sloops, and men-of-war were " puffing ' and sailing in every direction. He states " it was the Sabbath, but no one seemed to know or regard it." They were now at General Grant's Head Quar- ters, and went on shore, and he had an in- terview with the General, and found a busy scene, which he graphically describes. Writing to a friend, he states — " Trains of ambulances and army waggons, with frisking mules attached, w^ere plunging up and down hills, through clouds of dust. Contrabands and tanned soldiers were roll- ing and tumbling boxes and barrels from ships on to the wharf. The wounded soldiers were sitting around in circles, and surgeons busily engaged dressing their wounds. All was turmoil — some hammering, others shouting, overseers giving orders, while the hot san ])eat down upon them, and the dust was in clouds settling around them. But no one seemed to mind it. All went on with their business without regard to heat or dust. DARING RECONNOITRE. 115 *' The buildings were well riddled, brick houses with gaps in them, made by shot and shell, and some houses entirely demolished. " General Grant's head quarters we found among a bed of lillies, roses, and fra- grant vines, the grounds of a line residence formerly belonging to a rich southern planter. It was an elevated position, on a green bank, out on a point overlooking the Appomatax and James' river. An orna- mental iron fence surrounded the grounds, and tasteful shrubbery adorned the locality." The following Monday, after they arrived at City Point, a dispute arose in regard to some supposed signal station. Young Winans volunteered to make a reconnoitre, if any one Avould accompany him ; as no one would, he started alone, with a. fine seven shooter in his pocket* After a weary walk, through tangled vines and bush as, he arrived at the point, and found it unoccupied. He mounted the tower, and swept the country with his field glass, bore away the tlag staff for a trophy, and went on till he came to a mm !i nl I liiilil 116 THE PRODIGY. plantation, where he found a garden, filled with roses and other flowers, strange and beautiful, such as he had never seen before ; and clusters of luscious grapes hung thickly around the summer-houses and walls, but yet unripe. Entering the stately mansion, he found it had been ransacked. He also found a contraband and two soldiers skulk- ing around, but tliey showed no opposition. On returning to the shore with his contra- band, he found the small boat had left the shore, thinking him captured. He procured another, and rowed out to the vessel. After this, a party was got up, num- bering about twenty men ; and he, acting as their guide, sallied off again and brought back an abundance of cherries and other fruit. Here they regaled themselves for a few days, waiting for orders. But soon they were ordered up the Appomatax with their great floating hospital, to receive wounded soldiers. Soon the wards were filled. In writing to his friends, he states : " My ward being filled, work com- menced. It was on Tuesday ; and that night I worked all night, and till half past two in the morning. And every night WOUNDED SOLDIERS. 117 after, up till after twelve, and in the day time, had hardly time for meals. They were some of the worst cases in the army, wounded at Petersburg. The severest work I ever endured was the first three days on that occasion — going from one to another till my head reeled, and my knees gave way from sheer exhaustion." Here he had ample opportunity to bring into practice his skill as a sur- geon. The heat was intense, and sufficient to almost take the life out of him ; still his health continued to hold out well for a few weeks, notwithstanding the amount of labor he had to perform, administering to the wounded and suffering heroes. He was now far away from home, amongst hardships and strangers, but still he continued in the midst of the privations incident to a soldier's life, cheerfully to discharge his duty, subject to military institutions. But, after a while, the great floating hospital was not deemed suitable for the purpose lor which it was designed, on ac- count of a deficiency of ventilation, and was therefore ordered off. And the sur- i>, :!'!■;{'! :i :■•• ;m 118 THE PRODIGY. „.[ geons wore ordered on shore, where they found the conveniences much less than be- fore. He states, in a letter to his aunt, Mrs. Dr. Carson, of Whitby : " We are now properly in the field. Our tents are cool and airy ; but that allows the ever prevailing dust to pour in upon us with every breeze. The dust is every where. My paper is covered with it ; so I need use no sand or blotting paper. Dust gets between my teeth all day long. Our plates are covered with it at the table. Our bed clothes are impregnated with it. Every bush, tree, shrub, flower, tent, hou^e, man and mule, all, all are drab with dust. Perhaps you ask the cause of so much dust. Well, the soil is a loose sandy loam ; then there are miles of troops marching to and fro, and an unending stream of ambulances, army waggons, cavalry, and troops, with any quantity of braying mules constantly passing our tents, while the clouds of dust roll up before the wina, so that for miles in every direction City Point is an atmos- phere of dust. And the heat is excei-sive, up to 102 in the shade. Every thing grows hot by common consent. Warm water is VISIT TO GENERAL GRANT.' 119 our daily beverage. Sweat runs down my face, mingled with dust. We wear no vests or shirt collars ; dirty shirts ar6 a neces- sity. Our food consists of hard dry bread, months old, brought up by negroes in army waggons. Also our meat is as tenacious as General Grant's disposition. I generally get along with it by taking a mouthful when I leave the table, and chew it till I get most of the sweetness out, then throw it away. In addition, lately we have had potatoes. This is our fare ; no butter or condiments, and the same morning, noon, and night. At first I slept on the rough ground, rolled up in ray army blanket; now I have a cot, or stretcher, but no pillow. So you see we have it quite soldier-like. Yet I enjoy myself famously, and will be content to remain here all summer, if necessary. " Manv of our wounded have been re- moved to other parts, so we are not now very Lusy. I occupy my leisure hours reading and writing. " On the 4th of July I again visited General Grant. By virtue of my shoulder straps, the guards were passed, and in the ii 120 THE PRODIGY. ipl'^ W,' ' Mi fi m f' 'Sa I- - m i i . I W&'- K MmI |B I ■ tent of the Adjutant General 1 wrote a letter to General Grant ; and in the after- noon I called, and was introduced into the General's tent. He received me very cor- dially, and conversed very familiarly, and with no assumed dignity. 1 left much pleased with the interview. " The most unfortunate affair for me at present is, that I cannot get my money without going to Washington ; and they will not allow me to go. I have not had any money, except what T brought with me, since I came in this service. My boots have given out, and I need many little things really indispensible but have to go without. My board (such as it is) must be paid, and they allow no credit. So you see the way it has been with me for some time. * * * " I have enjoyed good health most of the time, with the exception of a very severe attack of inllammation of the bowels. I came very near sinking under it. I never before was so sick. Oh, how dreary I found the lonely nights, tormented with pain, ftir away from home to moan away the lonely hours ; but the Lord spared me, NEAR THE CONFLICT. 121 and through his tender mercy comforted me in my afflictions ; and now I am nearly well. One week from to-day I was at my worst, considered dangerously ill by the surgeons. " The mortality among the patients here is chiefly resulting from typhoid fever, which is very prevalent. " We are now about eight miles from Petersburg ; and, as I write, I hear the cannons booming away every few seconds. Also, we can hear the musketry quite dis- tinctly. A few days ago there was fight- ing near our lines, and we could plainly see the shells bursting in the air as they were thrown from the mortars. " The river beside us is quite animated with transports, gunboats, and steam tugs, gliding over its surface night and day. " We do not know kow soon we may be sent from here ; so we hold ourselves in constant readiness. " I have not seen a church for over a month, and have not attended divine ser- vice since I left Washington. • . " There are ' many stirring and amus- ing scenes here in camp. * * The negroes fi. 122 THE PRODIGY. are coming in constantly from the front, bringing many amusing stories of the sud- den decamp of their masters on the appear- ance of our soldiers. Upon the whole, they are a better class of negroes than I ex- pected. Some very shrewd and quick to understand." * * * These were hardships to which he had not been accustomed ; and, though he en- dured them with much fortitude and resig- nation, he was not able to hold out very long. His strength soon began to fail, and his physical frame yielded to the shocks it received while thus exposed to the hard- ships, toils, and i)rivations of a soldier's life. j^^^^S 1 I front, le Hud- ppear- j, they I ex- ick to lic3 had he eii- L resig- t very dl, and ocks it 3 hard- )ldier's CHAPTER XV. starts for Washington — Attention to Means of Grace— Re- turns to City Point—Suu rise at iSeo—Terrific Explosion —Visits Petersburg. Having found it necessary to leave for Washington, we next find him, on the 29th of Jiil^^ on board the John Tucker, steam- ing down the James' river, as he states, '' with the deep d irk verdure of southern forest lining tlie shore on each side, with now and then the tall bleak uiass of chim- neys rising from gardens rich with rose bushes and ornamental trees, indicatin"' the locality where once stood a proud southerner's residence. The boat was loaded with retiring troops, haughty officers, and christian commissioners. On the 1st of August he arrived in Washington, and says he " found it in all its glory of dusty streets and burning air." , , On his way up from Fortress Munroe, ' among the Christian Commissioners on> board some were very ill, and he was called "■"'■".'■•' 123 124 THE PRODIGY. i % to attend them. Here was another oppor- tunity for the exercise of hiH skill and generosity in administering to their wants. While remaining in Washington a few days he availed himself of the oppor- tunity of attending the public means of grace, of which he had been for a long time deprived. He also visited the Sabbath school, and continued to make religion his chief business. Not forgetting his obliga- tions and vows to his Maker, he embraced every opportunity of making some im- provement in the divine life, serving the Lord in spirit and in truth. He states that the manner of conduct- ing the Sabbath School he considered " excellent, the singing especially was good, and the Superintendent appeared to be an enterprising, wide awake Yankee." He also adds, that " Dr. Natal, the pastor, preached an excellent discourse ; the con- gregation nearly all Itnelt in prayer, seem- ing much more Christian lik(j than the Albany Methodists. * * * *^ Previous to service, I met in the young men's prayer meeting ; a number of fine looking young persons were present, '•^ SUN RISE AT SEA. 125 to )5 who appeared to possens the real germ of religion. They do not use those familiar re- ligious phrases, and threadbare expressions that so often make a religious testimony uninteresting and prosy ; but they pouied out the true sentiments of the heart and head, as if talking to a friend. I was re- cognized by those in the class I attended nearly two months previously. They are a real warm-hearted, loving people." * * He again returned to City Point ; and on his voyage, in the vicinity of Fortress Monroe, early in the morning, he concluded to see a sunrise at sea, in reference to which he writes — ^* I looked out on the eastern waters. At first a faint purple tinge hemmed the horizon's edge. The sky above commenced to lose its dusky hue, and the high clouds grew bright as silver, from the light com- ing down ; soon the purple turned to gold, the far waters began to blush, till presently the proud monarch of the sky audaciously bared his burning brow. The sea did homage to his coming, and all his children, — the young billows, raised their fair heads to receive a sparkling coronet from the 4 , / 12G THE PRODKJV. sovereign of light, and then howed their glittering crests with a rippling miiniuir of thanks. The sun, as he iirst appeared, was red, and throiigli tiie morning mists, his lurid form could he easily gazed at by the eye ; hut, as he higher rose, his face grew more silver} ; the silver then commenced to polish, then to hlaze, until the whole, at last, was one effulgent region of dazzling light. The sky and sea were blinding bright, and the sun was a solid globe of fire, quivering in the blaze of white heat. " Wiien my observaticm reached this point, Fortress Monroe heaved in sight, wiien all were ready to la)\d, ;iiul went on shore." ^-^-•■i^^ •.».,; >. ,> : , • •'■ After a short stay at this place, he embarked on board of the steamer Charlotte VanderhUt, and had an exceedingly plea- sant time, running np the James' river to City Pohit ; and frr^n thence he proceeded to Petersburg. He states : " As I arrived on the hill beyond City Point, a terrific explosion toolc place at the depot from whence I had just come. All the ammuni- tion stored there blew^ up, killing many " persons, hurling men, shells, shot, guns. m m m AT PETERHBUH' r- UiV': (y CHAPTER XVI. ->i. .(> «••:!• -•n Health Fails — Starts for Home — Arrives in New York — Returns to Canada — Symptoms of Decline — Visit from a Young Doctor — Reflections on his State of Health — Epigram. t / f ' ; f ! ! f ■'n' > 1 1. 1 « ;- At this period of his history, with a shattered constitution, he appears unable, any longer, to perform the duties of a sur- geon, or endure the hardships of a soldier's life. He is soon on his way to his parental huT lie in Canada. On his arrival in Baltimore, he found his book missing, in which he had written a journal of all the circumstances of inter- est, and special events he had witnessed since leaving Canada. This was to his friends a great loss, as it contained a his- tory of all his adventures, and the inci- dents and scenes through which he had passed while connected with the army. On his arrival in New York, he re- joiced that he was again where he could more freely breathe fresh air; and stated that on his way up from Washington to 19t> NEW JERSEY. 129 Baltimore, and from Baltimore to New York, ^' It was very striking to observe the remarkable contrast between the wide green fields, neat white cottages, grazing cattle, rustic garbs of country men, and the quiet serenity breathing around the peace- ful farms a soothing influence, and those rough scenes he had so lately witnessed." The effect was evidently most grateful and pleasing to his mind. He said : " it appeared almost spiritually calm, to gaze on the. loveiy homes of Pennsylvanians, and the quiet hamlets, and well-cultivated farms, in the State of New Jersey, so sweetly embosomed ii. grass green dells, or on sloping plains, v/ith the tasty picket fences or hedge rows as delicate frames to the bright pictures they contained." While \p New York, he regaled him- self awhile among his friends, talking poetry and friendship, and then started for Canada, where he arrived, much fitigued and enervated with symptoms of rapid decline. He remained a few days in Whitby, with his uncle (Dr. Carson), then proceeded to Exeter, to linger under the parental roof. Occasionally his friends I i €- 130 THE PRODIGY. r-' I indulged the hope of his being restored again to health. But he continued to fade under the blighting touch of an affection of the lungs — that which often baffles the skill of the most eminent physicians in the world. Only a few months after his return from the United States, on the evening of the 15th of October, after a severe spell of coughing, it was followed by hemorrhage to an alarming extent. His friends supposed he was n earing the banks of Jordan. On seeing his mother weep, he looked around with a pallid and serene countenance, and, with quivering lips, said — " Don't feel so anxious about me. With me all is well. I am ready to go." Then, after a little pause, he added, " I could freely give up all, but for this blighting the hopes of my dear parents." And then said, "This change in my case is sudden, but Christ is precious." After a few weeks, he began to improve a little, so as to be able to walk about his room, and a few times rode out, but continued extremely weak. On '' New Year's Day," af^or receiving a visit from a young doctor, who had been WILBUR WINANS. sop Pi I 'I ■I ^ i 3 [ ^ • CHRISTIAN RESIGNATION. 131 a fellow student with him in College, he said to his mother, — " My prospects to day are very different from what they were a year ago — then I was Imoyant with hope, and looked forward to a life of usefulness •, but now, in this world, all is a blank. I may live awhile ; but I think I shall never again be well." Then, after a little pause, he added — *' There is much I sliould do, and many beauties in nature to admire, if health would permit ; but what can I do ! I am so feeble. what a priceless blessing is health ! " And then meekly, but in a spirit completely absorbed in the will of God, he said : " Whether with me it be life or death, the Lord's will be done!" He continued to receive many tokens o^ respect and affection from his friends, which was a source of <^heer and comfort to him in his afflictions. Of his friends he most loved, — Dr. Ross, who had also been his fellow student at college — a ** kindred spirit," hearing of his poor state of health, and not being able to visit him, addressed to him the following beautiful epigram — 'Tis sad, sad, thus in the pride of youth That this sweet flower of genius' sacred womb, »,■■ h' 'M^'i i 132 THE PRODIGY. Just at its rarity beginH to bloom, Should wither, fade and die. Ah, one forsooth Thy memory Georoe, shall cherish like a gem That time's corroding rust itself must spare. Oh! God preserve thee is my humble praj-^er. Oh ! God support this tenuer, drooping stem. Adieu, dear George, perchance for'ere farewell, Soon health may languish, then too, fade and die, „*, "While young ambition anxious fires thine eye, And cherished hopes of fame within thee dwell, O God of love, of mercy, prayer and power, Support this bending bud, refresh this fading flower." ih: T » fn:VH 'ti^'l •: Mllj^^i^-i' fi itV c ■"i ■•■^<5slC!j';?'f|'-'^|.|'^ ^:\\ '** /( hh)' ,' i „.-;;,•; >V^> ;{ i i f ! i- 'H'K ^o«> he states — " My eyes are aufficiently strong so that I can read. I have been looking over some of my ohl books on Astronomy, Philosophy, &c. It makes me feel as if I am a small boy again, to thus wander over the well-worn pages that 1 have liead ached over in younger days." Ho had a thirst for knowledge up to the end of his life. He never studied from necessity, but from choice. Thought,, on literature and science were to him an entertainment, and reli- gious literature a delight. In his debilitv and weakness of body, being often afflicted with a sensation of extreme weariness, he never coinplained, but frequently expressed his gratitude to God, that in his illness lie was at home, where he could eiiiov the society of kind friends, and have every thing that could be done for him, to add to his comfort — that he had greater cause to be thanki\il than to complain. ;; '^v, ^f' ,,,„ nfvi^i h ,;* i He observed that of the many who came to visit him, few seemed to notice the numerous blessings surrounding him, compared with those who looked upon his case with sadness. He said his blessings t i 1 138 THE PRODIOY. " We all do Fade as a Leaf." « Fiulin*^, HijL(lis tho roao of Hummor, As tlio hot heamH of tho ftun Burns uj)on its ,- LINES ON THE DEATH OF G. E. A. WINANS, M.D. Farwell, but oh ! 'tis hard to say farewell To one so young, so talented, so fair. So loving, so beloved. Ah ! Death thou fell Destroying heartless visitor, must pra;,'er '*'4 And power and pity ever fall like air Upon thy iron hearing ; can sad sighs, ^edewed with angel tears from hearts that share The writhing anguish that but with them dies. Not turn thy deadly arrow from its destined priiie. ' T-:'! '.'*'T-^^Pf???? " a. E. A. WINANS, M.D. 147 The fairest flowers that sweetest fragrance give, 'Tis strange thou always choosest in their bloom ; And those that we would deem most fit to live Thou snatchest, adding darkness to our gloom, And making every heart a living tomb, With memory, the stone whereon 's impressed In characters of black, the mournful doom Of those we loved. But he is with the blessed And why should sorrow's sigh disturb his hallowed rest ? I But what is death to spirits such as thine ? An airy flight to Zion'.s golden hill. Whereon the sun of peace fore'er does shine, And heavenly choirs do pour their sacred thrill. He lives and breathes and moves within us still, And speaks in accents of seraphic breath. Then where's thy victory grave, but as we will ; And where's thy triumph— where is it, oh Death ? Life's fading garb is changed for Heaven's eternal wreath. Say, was't some holy mandate from above That bade thee stop so soon thy bright career To be some new-born angel's spirit-love. And e'er in rapturous ecstacy appear ; Upon thy brow the golden wreath to wear Of heavenly purity ; around thee flung The dazzling mantle of the starry sphere ; While honied music from thy silvery tongue. With Sigourney's should join to lead the new-born - throng. ., 148 THE I'UODIGY. Mcthinks 1 see thee in Elysium's dale, llecliuing 'neath the rieh celestial bowers, Where heavenly fragrance loads the balmy gale, And angel-music charms thy cheery hours ; Where all the throng of Heaven's seraphic powers Pour forth from harp and tongue the neetarous song Of cherub melody, while varying flowers, Of Heaven's eternal tinges countless, throng Around thy sainted couch thy triumph to prolong. In spirit thou art with us, and shalt be Till from the page of life our names are gone. When we shall join thee in thy minstrelsy, And hand in hand through countless years go on. Far echoing through the starry realms ; anon We hear thy sainted tongue persuasive pour From out thy fairy bowers around the throne, Such invitations as in days of yore Bade Gentiles know their God and Israel's King adore. Ye vernal charmers of the matin chime. Hush ! hush ! for one that loved your songs is dead ; Or tune your throats to requiems for a time, . And o'er the land a softening sadness shed. The willows that above him arching spread Their emerald boughs, forsooth anon shall weep * And lowly bend each limb its fading head. As though to embrace the grave in which does sleep The form wherein a saint was wont his watch to keep. E. a. A. WINANS, M.I). 149 Ye winter winds blow mildly o'er his grave, Nor strip the sheltering umbrage from his tomb, Leave not a leafless shrub to shield the brave, But verdure green of amaranthine bloom ; When spring returns may all the soft perfume Of Eden's honied fragrance float around, And clustering flowers entwined in nature's loom, Their graceful wreaths weave o'er his grassy mound, And let his tomb be like the patriarch's holy ground." Subsequently, when Dr. Rosh wrote a New Year's address lor a popular aiews- paper of the day, which excited considera- ble admiration : in enumerating the impox- tant events which had occurred during the year, he adds, in reference to his young friend Dr. Winans — o "My dream was gone, think not dear George that thou, Art quite forgotten in thy starry homo, If thou can'st read a mortals heart below Know mine is thine through all my days to come lor still it wears for thee, the pall-like gloom And asks when gone to share thy clay cold bed, Its dust with thine to mingle in the tomb The same sad shrowd o'er mine, as o'er thy head 'Till cries the Eternal earth yield up thy dead. ! pi 150 THE PRODIGY. Genuine friendship, like a celestial affinity, is not to be severed when the cords of life are broken — it is deathless. In the midst of sorrow's blast, in life and in death it endureth still. The golden chain is strengthened by afllictions in this life, and cannot be sundered bv death. It is as re- freshing to us pc^or mortals as it is endur- ing. These sentiments are beautifully expressed in the following lines by Mrs, Matilda Cooke, on true fil nidship. < I "True friendship's like a i^olden chain With iinlcH of giant Htroiigth, When Joined by the cement of trutli ' • Grow stronger in tlieir length. Throughout this wide \ast earthly ball, It doth its blessings send O, tell me if there is a soul Who has not one kind friend. How oft we meet with those on earth Around whom friendship's chain Has bound its golden links so firm 'Tis hard to snap it twain. I- It '^,-4.^-t And as we meet from time to time Firmer it binds the heart, But how suddenly wo find That dearest friends must part. ~ \l LirTES BY MRS. COOKK. Then when tho heart is full of griof, Sorrow and anguish blond. Then who can tell tho value of A sympathizing friend. Ah friendship to tho troubled brest Yos friendship pure and true, 'Tis like a spardling fountain to Tho thirsty traveller's view." 151 m >!i CHAPTER XX. Poem on Friendsliip — True FriondHhip — False Friendship —A Liternry Curiosity. The Ibllowing are a few of the miscel- laneous poems written by young G. E. A. Winaiis, M. D., when a lad attending school : FEIENDSHIP. ii '■ ■ ^Hi KHi **" 'il Of all tho tio8 that oarth can boast, Of having now, or V ,ving lost, Friendship is most endearing. It is the purest hallowed strain That over in the heart did reign. Life's darken'd journey cheering. And when that friendship is sincore And with our trouble droj^s a tear And sorrows with our sadness. Or else when fortune's face is bright It smiles to witness our delight, Eejoicing with our gladness. 152 TRUE FIUKNDSHIP. O thon wo boHt cnn fool itH worth, As plainly KtundH itH hoautio.s tbrth, It thon is most liko hoavon. And whon thuH jn-ovod, wo all will own That IViondHhij) is the .swoetcst boon To U8 poor niorlal.s givon. 158 TRUE FRIENDSirrP. What i« truo friendship who can toll, The nature of this priceless spell, Mothinks some angel left it here That earth might boast of one thing dear. 'Tis liko the rainbow of the sky, When rain drops fall it charms tho eye, So when the tears of sorrow flow Friendship appears to soothe our woo. And as a flame encased in glass Defies the power of tho blast And cloai-er, brighter beams its light As deeper, darker grows tho night. So friendship sheltered in the heart, Its cheering radiance can impart 'Mid all the winds of trouble's night, And when 'tis darkest wax more bright. m '1 i f ' if? i,i i,': 1 1 119 I mi ^1 * p s 1 1 i 1 . •i , 1 I 154 THE PRODIGY. 'Tis like a rivor in its course Increasing in extent and force, By all the little sparkling rills Which gurglo from surrounding hills. For all the virtues of the soul Into the tide of friendship roll, Till swelling in its onward move It deepens to the sea of love. The mighty ocean round the earth Wraps an expansive boundless girth No shores afford a stopping place Whole nations float in its embrace. So friendship is an ocean span Around the social world of man End it has none. It grandly plays Within a circles mystic maze. Each kindred soul is but an isle Wash'd by the waves of friendship's smile But why extenuate the throne, So high it is that it would seem. 'Twould take a seraph's pen to write The glories of that passion light, We know not half, and yet wo know Enough to love its genial glow. FALSE FRIENDSHIP. 155 FALSE PEIENDSHIP. What is false friendshij), who can tell The iiaturo of that faithlosi? spell ? It is an undefined device That vivities but hearts of ice. It oft is like a dew drop fair That gems the rose in morning air, But when it sees a brighter light' It leaves the rose and fades from sight.' 'Tis like a lighted candle's blaze Which glistens brightly to the gaze, But when the winds of trouble sweep It leaves us in the dark to weep. And like a faithless broken mast To drift before the rushing blast, 'Tis like the lily of the lake When morning sunl)eams round it wake. It opes its petals to the day And drinks the glow of fortunes ray, But when nights sorrow gathers round, It shrinks before affection's frown. And fok;^ its petals, hides its face Contented with its own embrace, 'Tis like a mask before a dart To hide the intents of the heart. M' i Ki^i \r :i 'Xi\ • ■. 156 TTIE PRODIGY. A garb in which tho wolf is dress'tl To hide tho nature of the breast, What more 'tis like I would not tell Though larger yet the list would swell. But we have seen enough to fear That friendship which is insincere And they who in such friendship trust Are building on a heap of dust. And in tho hour of trial find That trust is given to the wind, But wo will leave this scene of grief. It gives the bosom no relief. 'Tvvould take a pen of woe to tell The evils of that fickle spell, We know not half, and yet we know Enough to X58 THE PRODIOY. But see tho sun is rising high Advancing time warncs me to go, Tho sacred hour is drawing nigh To worship in God's courts below. I hear tho slowly falling feet Of church bound youth and aged sire, And I must go my God to meet, And lay aside my tuneful lyre. A literary curiosity — though the let- ter E. is so often used in composition, it is not found in the following lines : It is a most surpassing night, No black clouds frown on high, A bright and spiritual charm Is touching land and sky. Fair Cynthia from yon bluish vault A radiant halo throws. And from a million burning points A flood of star-light flows. No hum of day disturbs this hour. All noisy sound is still, A calm and holy hush is laid Upon both plain and hill. Morning may boast of having charms, And noon is warm and bright. But morn or noon cannot surpass This moon-lit hour of night. .Hi A STUDENT 8 LAMENT. 159 The " Lament " of a student at the Normal School, in Toronto, waM written by the author of these poems, when a lad, and sent as a valentine to Mr. Robertson, the head teacher in that institution. Not know- ing who was its author, he read it before the students in school, which caused con- siderable merriment. He was so pleased with the production, that he sent it to the Leader^ a popular newspaper, for publica- tion. The Editor, in referring to it, re- marks as follows: — " The following effusion from the pen of a Normal School lad, is above mediocrity. We differ from our young correspondent, hoAvever, and believe that the Muses are not so far distant from him as he supposes :" LAMENT OF THE NOEMAL SCHOOL STUDENT. Alas ! my mind is not my own, My thoughts arc bound in chains ; The Muses fur uway have flown, And fancy shuns my brains. In vain I long for pleasant rides Across the hills of snow, Or o'er the glassy ice to glide, 'Neath which the streamlets flow. 160 THE PRODIGY. 3 t I have but Euclid's hilly mists Of circles, planes, and lines ; ,; The streams are formulary lists Of plus and minus signs. All classics I have put away, I dare not mind them here, For Grammar and dull Algebra Instead of them appear. Mythology is quite erased By Henrys, Edwards, Johns, While rhyme and verso have given place To everlasting sums. I scarcely dare admire the day, Or watch the sparkling stars. For fear 'twill call my mind away From fractions, cubes and squares. My thoughts have left the azure sky, The smiles have left the moon, While theorems their place supply, And gladness yields to gloom. And if I think of sweet old home. Of friends lost to my view, The briny tears perhaps may come, The lip may quiver, too. But soon these tears I must erase. They interfere with books ; They put the angles out of place, And turn the lines to hooks. -ri»5w;^--'jEr s?^:Tr" '' A student's lament. 161 The founts of joy— the youthful fires— That strug^ried in my breast, That once, with hope, this'heart inspired, Are dwindling into rest. My spirit flags within my frame, My heart is growing cool ; It was not so before I came To this, the Normal School. Because my mind is not my own, My thoughts are bound in chains ; The Muses somewhere else have gone. And fancy shuns my brains. Then roar ! ye winds, with all your might, In dreary dirges blow ; Come, howl ! ye savage ghosts of night, And join my song of woe. " OSCAR" formal School. LINES TO MR. CHARLES STRATTON AND TROUPE. When Nature first gazed on this world, Arrayed in virgin beauty, Just as Creation's arm had hurled It on the path of duty. i Is I i) 162 THE rRODioY. Sho loved earth, and with anxious looks Viewed it with warm emotions ; Kibboned around with silver brooks, And jewelled o'er with oceans. And as that interest increased And grew into a j)assion, Sho longed her love to manifest Iji proper loving fashion. So she resolved to give to earth A most delicious treasure, In which there should be shadowed forth Iler beauty, love and pleasure. The crystal gates of Heaven she broke, And fed the ground with showers, Then drew o'er earth a grassy cloak And pinned it on with flowers. She curtained earth with silken clouds, With rainbow wreathes sho crowned it, And birds and boasts, in happy crowds, In every plain abounded. But always failure would befall Each new created creature, And even man, the best of all, Yet disappointed Nature. Just then this glorious truth profound, In reason's page she traces, That precious articles are found Done up in smallest spaces. u CHARLES STRATTON AND TROUPE. 163 She then gazed at her model man, Complete in health and vi^^or ; She saw the meritH of Jiis plan, His noble, manly figure. Then speedily resolved to take Those portions common to men, And of them, purified, to make A concentrated human. So General Tom to us was sent. The great desideratum, For whom five thousand years were spent In learning to create him. Beauty and wit adorned his name, Where'er the General tarried j And on the purple wings of fame i He through the world was carried. And Nature, gratified to see His glorious position, To multiply the progeny, Enlarged the rare edition. And so the merry Commodore Was secondly presented. By whom the lilliputian power Was famously augmented. Then delicate Lavinia came, With beauty's smile upon her ; r In General's heart she woke a flame. And so he wooed and won her. 164 THE PRODIGY. hi I And latit fair Minnic'H form wo greet, A perfect little fairy; So charming, beautiful and sweet, We love the creature dearly. Then hail thou consequential throng, Long may their earthly glory Be chanted in immortal Hong, And live in wonder's story. Four centre-points of bliss and love Are figured in thy presence. And scorning in our eyes to move In beauty's i)urest essence. Welcome to our Canadian soil ; May peace and joy await ^ u, And may ovv honest sons of toil Deeply appreciate you. And when the cruel blast of time Thy threads of life shall sever, May heavenward be thy flight sublime, To dwell in bliss for ever. it f r At an examination of the Grammar School in Brampton, several of the students repeated some of their own composition, or something they had selected for the occa- sion. Young Winans, then in his eleventh iiui BATTLE OP WATERLOO. 165 year, composed the tbllowing linen, which he delivered in such a spritely and glowing manner as to command the admiration and applause of all who heard him. THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 'Twas night, the darknoKH had cd wrapped The earth in its dark pall, Willie o'er the plain the torch fires red Cast shadows broad and tall ; The shadows of the soldiery, As they were on the plain, Heavily sank their hearts within, As heav'ly fell the rain. But hark ! amidst the silence dull, The brazen trumpet's cry. The soldiers girt their armour tight, To conquer or to die. At morn the veterans are prepared To gniap with foe or death, And as the enemy draws near, So shorter grows each breath. The trumpet's sound ; the soldiers rush ; The cannons madly roar ; The grape shot ploughs along the ranks. And stains the earth with gore ; f I t^> 166 THE PRCJDUJY. Tho flaHhing muhkotH tillH tho air With bJuxiu;^ ton^'UOH of tiro, With loudoii ruin thoy hwcII tho storm Ol'vaHt confusion diro. And yet above the rollin^^ din, I heard tho goneral'H voice, Now show to tliem the British stool, Press on my gallant boys. Cheered on by that familiar tone, They fight with doubled zeal, Thoy think not of their precious lives, And not a wound they feel. As on thoy rush, their comrade's blood Is spattered in their face And mangled limbs, and pools of blood, Are scattered round the place. Each burning throat is parched and dry ; The arm is soaked with goro, And fiercely burns each warrior's eye, And loud the cannons roar. With pallid cheeks, and dying shrieks, Death has his work begun ; But swelling o'er tho battle roar Is heard they run, they run. Tho battle's past, but ! that scene, That field where lay the dead. There fathers, lovers, husbands bravo, For liberty have bled. THE 8N0W FLAKE. Thoir namo.s wo hallow with o.,,- love, The strong, tho tnio, tho bravo, Who for their country'^ good hud fought, And now lio in their graven. 167 THE SNOW FLAKE. Ono wintry day, whon winds wore still. And fsnowy mantles wrapp'd each hill, ' I stood and gazed ;it the dark sky, ' To 800 tho snow flakes fall iVom high. And as they, in thoir downward course Descended from thoir fruitful source, Upon my arm, a lovely flake, Kesolved its resting-place to take. It seemed as if some nymphs, at play. Had found a pearl of purest ray, And carved it out a little star,' Then plucked their jewels from thoir hair. And sot them round it thick and bright, Until it seemed a star of light, Possess'd of all the emerald dyes, That gush in tears Irom fairy eyes. And as I viewed tho crystal star, I wondered how it was so fair. From what far region did it' spring, To be so pure and bright a thing. 168 THE PRODTGY. If i Ik y m And a« I miisod, mo thought tho flake Ilud found a voice, and thus it spake : " All ! mortal, vain it is to try To read my hidden m3^stcry ; I came not from a foreign clime, Where all is wondrous and sublime ; Once, on the earth, I was a drop, In turbid pool compeird to stoj), And there, with fdthy, tainted coat, In muddy masH was wont to float, Till, t'ward the genial fount of light, The sunbeams led my air}" flight ; Which touch'd ray face with warming kiss, I soon forsook my dusky dress ; Till, far above the sordid earth, Eeceived a far more glorious birth ; And miiring with the clouds up there, Became congealed in frigid air; Then, crystal-like, with stellate face, Returned, earth's sombre front to grace." Alas ! its story here it left, I liquefied it by my breath ; Its evanescent crystals wtMit, Like sound of harp in wild winds spent. But not so with the words it s])oke. Their lofty echoes gently woke : I thought that so the soul of man Is subject hero to sin's command. THE SNOW FLAKE. 169 And Htcepcd so deep in woe and sin, That naught but darkness reigns within, Until the Sun of Righteousness Envelopes it in fairer dress. And when by love 'tis sanctified, 'Twill soar above, through azure wide, Till wafted in the heavenly space, Eedeemed and cleansed by saving grace. But then, uniiKO the star of snow, No more will it be changed below ; And ne'er again will it appear, Wrapp'd in the clay it vaunted here. But having won the heavenly prize, 'Twill bloom, a blossom of the skies, A lovely flower of Paradise, Matured beneath its Saviour's eyes. And mingling with the clouds of light, Composed of happy angels bright ; 'Twill dwell, unstained by earthly sin, " With God eternally shut in." Then, I'll think when I see the snow Its pure white mantle 'round us throw, 'Tiii like unto that spotless white Which robes the angels in its light. m 170 THE PRODIGY. WOMAN. If there be ought within this earth, That 2)aints celestial bless A state in which a man can feel His joys complete 'tis this, To have the love of woman's heart, That priceless, richest boon, And in that heart to have a place Where he is lov'd alone. Oh \7hat can more enrapture man, In this sad world of ours. Than banqueting upon the fe«st, Of bve's enchanting powers ? When with the tendrils of our hearts The silken cords of lo^ e Twined into many gordian twists, Are mutually wove. This mundane sphere was Incomplete, And Paradise a wild, And, man a being desolate. Before fair woman smiled. And when Creation framed the earth, And bowed the heavens above, He rtamp'd on all, perfection's seal, And that was woman's love. '^ ■I m WOMAN. So when in Edon's blissful bowers, First Eve in beauty stood, Jehovah viewed his work complete, Smiled and pronounced it good. And thus to man though bathed in sicrhs An angel's hand is given ^ To lead him by the roseate walks And smoothe his path to heav'n. 171 ®r- # ^^siQ^sy>^