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Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — *^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film^s d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clichd, il est filmd d partir de Tangle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ■■■■■■■ HAMILTON; AND OTHER POEMS AND LECTURES BY W, A. STEPHENS, ■i X)LLECTOR OF CUSTOMS, OWEN SOUND. * ! SECOBiD EDITIOK. ' TORONTO: PKINTED BY A. LOVELL & CO. ' 1871. 1 i ■;- Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the Year One Thousand Eight Hundred and Seventy- one, by W. A. Stephens, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. i if \ r i ' I PEEFAOE TO SECOND EDITION. If I had not written this book, no one else in the world would or could have written it ; no one else was in a posi- tion to select all the subjects that I have chosen, and to look upon them from my stand-point. And if any one had attempted it, no matter what his ability or experience, our books could not have been identical. No one but he who is can be the parent of his own offspring, either men- tal or natural. I have tried to make a book both " pleasant to read and useful to remember ;" but no matter what may be my own opinion of my success, the intelligent reader will, of course, claim his own right of judging. " The Infant Wanderer " was my first published piece, and nothing that I have written has, I believe, been read with mOxC interest than this. As to -' Hamilton," the principal piece: In my preface to the first Edition I stated that I was asked to do so by a lady friend in Hamilton, Some time after its publica- tion, I had an interview, in his library, with the late Bishop Strachan, and he observed, in reference to the above poem — " There is very little of Hamilton in it." This is so; and in this it resembles Cowper's Task. ITiere is very little of the " Sofa" in it : -" But there Perhaps all likeness ends between the pair." =% After a free conversation upon literary subjects, the Bishop remarked — " I once intended writing a poem my- self. There was an immense elm tree growing on the commons, near Toronto, and my purpose was to personify this tree, and make it describe what it had seen of change during its long lifetime. First, to tell of the Indians — their history, manners and customs; next, the arrival and settlement of the French, and what they accomplished ; and lastly, to tell of the conquest of the country by the Eng- lish — their settlement, enterprise, and progress. But," he added, "a pressure of other business prevented me from carrying out my design." If he had written the poem who knows but he might have developed poetical powers that would have made him the Heber of the Anglo-Cana- dian Church? I had been told some time before this, by ex-Judge Mitchell, of the London District, that about the beginning of the century he and Dr. Strachan were intimate friends, and, at the same time, teachers of District Grammar Schools, and also contributors to the nearest literary peri- odical, which was in Philadelphia. 6 While engaged, in 1840, in publishing my first edition, I visited most of the towns in Canada, from London to Montreal, and I met, in every place, with kindness and attention, and amon^j other kind friends I would especially mention the late Vicc-Chancellor Jameson, of Toronto, from whom I received especial encouragement, which, coming from one of his pos'tion and fino literary taste, and whose wife ranked so high among the lady writers of England, was very gratifying to a young author ; and he kindly said — " When you publish another edition, I will revise it for you." But he has gone to that place where there is no revision of anything done here. There were at that time comparatively few journals in Canada, but all that I saw, with one exception, noticed my book favourably. That one gave me a column of keen and caustic criticism. Those who have been in a similar case for the first time, will not be surprised when I confess that for an hour or two I felt as if I had a blister upon my organ oi approhativencss ; but I soon began to console myself with the thought that I might place the commen- dation of twenty against the condemnation of one, and have a large balance in my favour. It was said in a lecture upon the Poets of Canada, by the Rev. W. W. Smith, (who has himself a wide reputa- tion as a poet, lecturer, and editor,) that mine was the first volume of poems published in Upper Canada. Since then, many volumes have been given to the public, some 6 of them possessing great merit, and adding largely to the "mental outfit of the Dominion;'' and there arc many besides, who, although they have not written a book, have embellished the periodical press with their fine effusions, among whom I would mention Si/lvicola, who for—some years has been a frequent contributor to the Owen Sound Times, and whose poetry has been very generally admired. " Hamilton, and other Poems," was out of print in a few months after publication, and I did not then anticipate that so long a time as thirty years would pass before pub- lishing another edition. But since then, as well as before, I have been actively engaged, both with mind jmd hand, in the practical business of life. This, together with weak- ness Oi* sight, with which I have been troubled for some fifteeji years past — during which time, until lately, I was unable to read scarcely a single volume — prevented my reappearing sooner as an author, excepting in a small Poetical Geography, and as a contributor, in prose and verse, to various jounials in Canada and the United States, for I always continued to interview the muses, and always with pleasure, although perhaps not with the romantic zest of earlier years, when hopes of fjime fired my young»am- bition, while its ardour was heightened perhaps by the too partial plaudits of my friends. It was said by a very rich octogenarian of my acquaintance — " If my son takes as much pleasure in spending my money as I have in making it, I shall be well repaid." And I may say, that if others take as much pleasure in reading my productions as I have had in writing them, I shall be very well satisfied. My first hook was dodicatod to tli(^ lato Oonsul Buchanan, of New York, who was "my own and my father's friend." He was, also, himself an author of several books upon imi)ortant subjects. He wrote me in reference to my pro- duction, and said — " I have not a poetical fibre in my composition, and 1 would advise you not to spend your time in v/ritini^ poetry." And, I presume to enforce his advice, he added — "I was in i^cotland in 1794, and being at Dumfries, I was desirous of seeing ilobert Burns, and asked my landlady where he lived, wlion she impatiently exclaimed, ' I wonder what all the folks are making such a fash about that drunken guager for !' " Poor Burns! How little most of his cotemporaries dreamed then of the way that the mind of British and Colonial, and American Anglo-Saxondom would elFei'vesce at the centenary celebrations ! and that one of Scotland's most gifted girls would write, amid the plaudits of mil- lions--* " He more of honor to his country^ brings Than all her kings." How sorrowfully this contrasts with the sad latter lifetime of the poet. I shall conclude my present remarks by the following extract from Mr. Henry J. IMorgan's elaborate work, "Bibliotheca Canadensis," page 358: " W. A. Stephens, Collector of Customs, Owen Sound, U. C. Born in Belfast, 3 8 Ireland, 1809. Contributed in verse [or prose] to the Niagara Glnanev, The Caskef, and The Garland (Hamil- ton), Palhidinni, Examiner and Leader (Toronto), The S'ftnrdii/ Caitrler (Philadelphia), The Review (Htrects- ville), The Bipfist M'tgazine (Montreal >, and various other journals. In 1853 edited the Lever [Owen Sound). Published Hamilton and other Poems, Toronto, 1840, 180 pages. Poetical Geography and llhyming Rules for Spell- ing, 18-48." Owen Sound, February, 1871. i« se] to the d (Hamil- Dnto), The ' (Htrects- d various n Sound). 1840, 180 ! for Spell- INDEX. The Infant VVamleror ^^^^ Jabal, JubalandTiibal-Oain.. .,*."." J^ Knowledge ia Power .... (( (( (( u (( 26 32 35 57 To my Mutlier Haiuilton-Book I. -Argum'ent 11- — Argument 111- — Argument gg 1V-— Argument. ... m- Notesto Hamilton ^^"^ 0;i Perseverance ^^^ Verses on the Death of 'thVluiho^s Father 147 Stan;.a.s to the Memory ot a Sister VV,. Upon Sacred Music ,* Stanzas -^^1 To a Friend on his Wedding.....*.".' J^^ To the Hamilton "Garland".. 5 Two Descriptions of Love 1?? The Fairy and the Dew-dron To ^ Li 158 160 161 nies written in a Lady's Album.. ^^, A Morning lieverie "* To a Young Friend . .............*. "^f ^ An Epigram . ^"^ To Fanny 1^2 173 10 PAGE The Seasons— To a Lady Friend 174 The Tide of Love .., 175 Aiioundelay 180 On the Death of a Cliill 182 To Dona Julia 183 My Biith-place 186 Our Prong^enitors — A Lectnre 188 Fntiiro made the Confidant of Fate 224 The Fireman's Song 230 How I^eler used the Keys of the Kingdom 231 The Thousand Tshmds 238 To tuy Little Mary Ellen 239 My Little Earaest 241 To my Little Edwavd 242 To my Little Harvey 244 To my Little Hebcr 245 On seeing a Light in the Window of Home 248 Lectnre on tlie Haiunony of Science and Religion 249 A Year Ago To-day 273 That Loving Couple 276 The Offering of Isaac 277 The Conversion of Saul 279 Niagara Falls 283 To my Wife 284 The Weather 285 Tipple- a- Little, &c 287 The Death of Aaron 289 The Death of Moses 291 An Kpigrani 292 Thirty Days liath September 293 Names and Order of the Books in the Old Testament... 294 ^ 11 PAOE The Creation Week 295 The Love of Alcestua 297 On the Death of Mr. McKeever 298 Queen's Birth-day Excursion , 300 Visit of tAe Prince of Wales 302 A Time is Coming 304 God 306 And did the Lord of Life 307 Lord of Life, Supreme, Eternal 310 Envy Not— A Moral 311 The Symbolical Head 314 My Shanty 316 To Catch a Thief 318 Lines in an Album 319 Written for a Lady's Album — By request 320 Hints to Housekeepers 321 Rural Music 323 Mr. John Carey and Verses to a Lady 325 The Owen Sound Council for 1859 329 Impromptu — At Hamilton 330 " At Owen Sound 331 " At Meaford 332 The Twelfth of July 333 Lines written in a Young Lady's A Ibum 335 To Maggie 335 The Blind Piper and W. A. Stephens 336 To Miss B , while Playing the Piano 339 The Pope Infallible 339 Honour and Fame from no Condition Rise 341 Changes in Man's Physical Identity 342 A Leaf from my Diary 344 ■WW 12 PIQE A Canadian Song 345 I Loved Thee— Yes ! 346 The Preacher's Address 348 Once Gnided by Moses 350 The Baptism of Christ 351 A Child carried away by an Eagle 354 A Citizen of Drunkendom 357 On Prayer 358 Christian Armour 359 Transfiguration of Christ 360 The Nine Parts of Speech 363 Poetical Geography .... 364 Rhyming Rules for Spelling 383 The Debtors' and Creditors' Circle 388 If all the Clocks in all the World 391 Jack to Tom 392 Yesterday, To-day and To-morrow 393 I Gazed upon thine Auburn Tresses 394 Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes 396 Now there remains one Day the Less 398 The Merry Heart 399 Jennie Watson's Concert 401 On a Meeting at Brock's Monument 402 On the Death of McGee 405 The Wise Men of the East 407 Rejoice in Christ Jesus 409 In God's pure Sight 410 ^ PiGB . 345 , 346 348 350 351 354 357 358 359 360 363 364 383 388 391 392 393 394 396 398 399 401 402 405 407 409 410 THE INFANT WANDEEER. The following Poem, on the loss of the Author's sister who strayed in the woods on the 17th of April, 1827, at the age of two and a half years, is almost his earliest, production, and whatever may be the opinion of its Jterary merit, it has one thing at least to recommend it— it is a Uteral description of the most distressing event it ever was his lot to witness. What mean those notes of woe ? that anguish wild ! The oft-repeated words— my child ! my child ! •—A well-known voice— it is my mother's cry, Her words are woe, her look is agony— That child is lost ! in wild maternal wail Now Ellen ! Ellen ! mounts upon the gale— And Ellen ! Ellen ! echo hill and dale ! What hurry— what dismay in ev'ry look ! . With speed we search the well, the running , brook, » ! 14 The barn, the cellar, brushwood, field and swamp, The sunny hills and glens all dark and damp. With more than courier's speed the tidings fly, Our friends and neighbors kindly make reply By hastening to our aid, and as they come. Ask how and when she wander'd from her home, *' Thro' yonder wood the elder children went To drive some cattle, by their mother sent — The child has follow'd — tho' none saw her stray Her tiny footsteps mark the sandy way. It chanced, a man had call'd the day before To get of scholars' names the usual score, Intending, if it would the neighbors suit, " To teach the young idea how to shoot ?" The children all were pleased, the thing was new, And Ellen said, *' Mamma, may I go too ?" **0h yes, my dear shall go to school," and so She thought the rest had gone, and she would also go. They now disperse — the woody mazes search, Where grows the cedar and the shady birch, Every thicket, every nook explore. Trace and retrace their mazes o'er and o'er. 15 * swamp, oap. Ings fly, > r home, nt stray re ras new, ') so [e would jarch, The sun is sinking — Oh delay thy race ! Hide not so soon from earth thy cheering face. wouldst thou now, as once on Gibeon's height, Prolong thy stay, and thus keep hack the night. Then might we hope this wand'ring child to save From rav'ning wolves and bears, a tomhless grave. Vain thought — he sets — his flight no pow'r can hold But his who did from ancient chaos mould The vast creation — and whose eye can pierce Thro' thickest night — Oh save from prowlers fierce This wand'ring babe until the coming morn. Then guide us where she strays all helpless and forlorn. 'Tis night, reluctantly we w^ander home ; All ling'ring and disconsolate we come, My father on his children looks around With tearless grief, — " Your sister is not found ! His voice of woe falls deadly, dark and cold Eevealing depths of misery untold. Hope could not bear the sound — tho' fain to stay, r u I 16 She slowly flapp'cl her wings and soar'd away, Despair replaced her, who with fim'ral wing Eeady to perch had long been hovering, She ever urges Hope's unwilling tlight, Beady to seize her abdicated right. My little brothers to mamma do say, ** Poor Ellen's lost — she cannot find her way. i( n Come light the torches — let us try once more )> Again we go and search the forest o'er, Intently listening oft with straining ear. Hoping an infant's voice or sigh to hear : But vain's our list'ning — all our searching vain, There is no hope 'till night is on the wane : Home we return impatient for the day, ! that sad night, how long it seem'd to stay. Morn has return'd — we eye with fearful look The ice that's frozen on the playful brook. We fear the pow'r that seized the rippling flood May have congeal'd the currents of her blood. And stopp'd the efforts of that little tongue That often cried " mamma " the trees among ; 17 To hear her call no fond mamma was nigh, To soothe her grief, or falling tear to dry. The sun is up — our friends from far and near. With hast'ning neighbors thronging on appear, And now a host has gather'd on the lawn, With anxious hearts to find her lone sojourn. — With short discussion w^e arrange a plan For careful search, by ranging man by man All in a line, with little space between, That, nought escaping, all might plain be seen. Behold my father's venerable form Opi)ress'd by grief — an oak bent by the storm — His grief too deep for tears — no tears do flow — An image of unutterable woe. Yet does not sink : he turns his gaze on high — See, hope has gleem'd athwart his agony. Four furlongs from our house, the Credit holds Its winding way, all shaded, clear and cold. Here rests one flank of our extended line ; Now on we march in order — all combine , I, i 1*. \ [ I ;5 fk Strict care with speech, to search the brake and brush, Each hollow log, each streamlet, swamp and bush. And thus we journey on thro' hill and dale. — Hark, rustic trnmpets loud our ears assail — Again they flourish, longer, louder, higher ! Away we dash thro' brushwood, brake and briar. My elder brother, 'bout a mile from home, On Credit's bank observed two neighbors come Down to the ford — the stream was greatly swollen By melting snows and rains that late had fallen, They could not cross — at once he bade them go Down where the channel's broad, the water low ; They quickly cross, land on a little isle. Conversing of the wand'ring babe the while — They start — they listen, hear a mournful sound — What's this ? what have we here ? the child is found ! A fallen tree across the water lay. O'er this she found her narrow, dang'rous way ; The island had been clear'd two years before, A crop of wheat the fruitful island bore, H 19 And had been stack'd, tho' now 'twas ta'en away ; Among the rails which fenced it, there she lay Crouch'd on the rotten straw, all cold and lone, On head and knees, with scarcely strength to moan. Not long they loiter — in their arms she's raised, While fervently exclaiming — God be praised ! The man who bears her finds, tho' closely press'd, She closer clings to his exulting breast. — They leave the isle, meet stragglers on the road By whom the tidings fly to our abode — She's found ! she's found ! now flies upon the gale — She's found ! she's found ! re-echo hill and dale. Her mother scarce believes it, yet she flies And meets the group, joy dancing in all eyes ; Some matrons with maternal feelings sought To take her, but she screamed and would have fought To stay with him who from the island bore Her; tho' she ne'er had seen his face before. ■ I I Her mother comes — she hears the well-known somul, And sudden starts, and gazes wildly romid, With eager joy she throws her willing arms Around her mother, safe from all alarms, Like ivy to the elm — no winds can sever — She clings as tho' she'd fondly cling for ever. These tidings, yet, my father does not know. He's where the hemlocks thick entangled grow Almost impervious to the foot of man, And there his solitary search began, For much he fear'd that we in passing through Would not its ev'ry maze and thicket view. And oft he call'd upon his dear lost child Amid this dreary solitary wild, ** Ellen, Ellen, answer me, my dear, Alas, your father's voice you cannot hear." The darkness of his grief becomes more dense — A gun is fired — with interest intense He starts and listens — hope is chill'd hy fear, "It is some hunter's gun, who's wand 'ring near, »> 21 —Another shot ! "It is, it must ^)e so, ' The cliikl is found !" Away like boundin- roe He flies along ; now he has reached the goal, Who can describe the transports of his soul I I shall not try (for, failing to conceive, Who could portray them ?) and the theme I leave. JABAL, JUBAL AND TUBAL-CAIN. Lamcch. one of the descendants of Cain, is known as tlie first poet and the first polyganiist of history. He took unto himself two wives ; the name of one was Adah, and the otlier was Zilhih. Adah bare Jabal, the father of all such as dwell in tents and keep cattle, and his bro- ther's name was Jubal, the father of all such as handle the harp and the organ. Zillah bore Tubal-Cain, an instructor of every artificer in brass and iron, and his sister's name was Namah. Thus their history is given in the 4th chapter of Genesis • Jabal, and Jubal, and great Tubal-cain, The three great inventors before the great rain, They had tune then to finish whate'er they began, As they reached in those days a nine-century span. E'er the torrents from Heav'n met earth's rushing fountains, United and swept o'er the tops of the mountains • Jabal taught to make tents and to rear and keep cattle, Tubal-cain made the tools for pee ce or for battle. His genius and force did all obstacles pass, And brought .from earth's bosom the iron and brass. How he made the first lools without hammer and tongs, No one has recorded in prose or in songs. How he made his first bellows, his anvil and forge — Did he find his first coal in some deep mountain gorge ? How long did it take the great Vulcan to feel His way, till he first could change iron to steel ? How proud must have been both his mother and sire When they saw the first work of his hammer and fire. And his young sister, Namah, with uncles and cousins. To see and admire would assemble by dozens, When he'd forged the fii'st sword and made the first crown, . To be wielded and worn by some chief of renown. 24 I ! When he*d worked off the jav'lin, the lance and the dagger, To aid the first bullies to quarrel and swagger. These ^yeapons of war made the violent strong To fill all the earth with fell rapine and wrong. But to lessen the wrong, though, {he poets will tell He invented the sickle and plough-share as well. By which people then, ever since and do now. Bring food from the ground by the sweat of their brow. And all human history, write it who would, Shows a mixing and mingling of evil with good. Thus War, though a scourge, is a great civilizer. And Peace fails in good when the people don't prize her. But I'd give, if I had it, a bright silver ruble, To see the first organ of Patriarch Jubal, Or to hear his first harp. How their ears must have tingled When musical notes first in harmony mingled, While the minstrel himself felt his fingers inspired, And his eye, ear and soul all with melody fired, 25 WhUe the musical tide swept the passions along < 'JuicMy moving with all the vibrations of song! And these wonderful arts to the world still remain Gifts of Jabal, and Jubal, and Great Tubal-cain. ' Feb. 1st, 1870, 26 KNOWLEDGE IS POWEE. Knowledge is power, said England's mighty sage. Knowledge is power, repeats each passing age. What science yet shall to the world unfold By time and science can alone be told. Judg'd by the past, the futm-e sometimes can Be almost known with certainty by man ; But here, we fail imagination's flight Is stopped, bewildered by excess of light. God's Spirit moved and waked the dark repose Of chaos ere our world to being rose I Mind moulded matter — then His word is given. And chaos is transformed to earth and stars of heaven. A counsel then was held — Come, let us make Man in our image, and we shall awake His form to life, when moulded from the clod. By breathing in that form the breath of God, Man springs to life, and, at his wondrous birth, Was crowned unrivalled potentate of earth* ^ 27 His charter gives him, then, a right to reign O'er things of earth, and over earth and main, Subdue the earth with intellect. He gave, When well exerted, also pow'r to brave And erush all opposition, and the right Was given by His command, who gave the might. What man can't do, God does, and 'tis as true He nothing does for man that man can do. Man can't create ; no attribute is his To form with life the smallest thing that is. To do it were to pass the bounds that lie Between the finite and infinity. And this no angel in the farthest van Of high intelligences ever can. Yet man is great while acting through the laws Of God, who is Himself the great, first cause. To go beyond them, or against them toil, Betrays the madman or the imbecile. He cannot form with life, on land or sea, But palaces and pyramids has he. Prom earth high reared, whilst city, ship and tower The oracle confirm, '* Knowledge is power." ii Um, Hi 28 ** Subdue the earth.'* Bold, energetic will By knowledge guided can alone fulfil The destiny implied in thi» command, To rule the elements by sea and land. To hold them each subservient to his sway. One force against another force to array, And make them all triumphantly obey* He has not yet achieved a full control. And ere 'tis done some ages yet may roll ; But when he can't oppose he'll learn to guide. And where he cannot stop them he can ride. Thus some bold courser, dashing o'er the plain. Carries his rider, spite of bit and rein. With all his power he may not stop the horse. Yet right or left he guides his headlong course. And rides him till he spends his furious force. Of mingled mind and matter man is made. And each united does the otlier aid. Mind acts on matter, moving first the brain. And matter then reacts on mind again. Mysterious union I what connecting links Unite the two — ^matter to that which thinks ? The secret still is dark, deep, unrevealed. It seems to lie in Deity concealed. #^ 29 Tlio' all do know and feel that they exist, The how, almost the why, is shrouded still in mist. When all these links are broken it may be That spirits then can tell what sets them free, And w^hat it was that bound the prisoned soul, Subtle as that which turns the needle to the pole. ** Knowledge is power" — know^ledge of nature's laws. Even where the chain's unseen that binds elFect to cause. The sailor on his guide as safe relies As though he knew its hidden mysteries. Nor fears the lightning's flash nor ocean's foam Will cause the needle's faithful point to roam. Without the knowledge of magnetic steel Columbus ne'er had pushed his vent'rous keel Across the ocean, nor his flag unfurled In triumph on a new discovered world ! *' Knowledge is power !" Each oflspring of the mind Gives power in turn to propagate its kind, And past discoveries to the future lead ; Steam vessels to steam factories succeed ! % 80 I When Franklin brought, unharm'd, Heaven's lightning down, Fame thund'red forth the sage's high renown ! She little thought that soon that flame would be Her own most wondrous, potent agency To spread her rumours ; that Professor Morse Would send her seated on his lightning horse ; Make her a present of the new-trained steed. So fleet that thought his rein can scarcely lead I The swiftest twinkling of the quickest eye Gives more than time around the world to fly. Without once bolting from his ^ron track He carries fame along, and brings her back. The famous steeds, once harnessed to the sun, Are, by the lightning courser, far outdone. When once the wires are laid, we'll talk with ease With our good neighbours at the antipodes. The land of science and the savage horde Will be united by th' electric cord. Man's hopes and destinies are brighter far Since he has chained the lightning to his car. The WTiting telegraph and printers' type Will make the seeds of kaowledge sooner ripe. rl, Heaven's renown ! e would be )r Morse [g horse ; 1 steed, :cely lead I eye Id to fly, ick ' back, the sun, [one. Ik with ease jodes. rde 31 And science, with religion, shall expel Dark^ crimes from earth that long have peopled The god of war shall from his throne be hurled And peace triumphant reign throughout the teem ing world ; No more the stoms of battle darkly lower, 1\ hilst all confirm the truth. Knowledge is power ! r far his car. pe ner ripe. n2 TO MY MOTHEE. Who is she, now so weak and pale, Whilst all the pow'rs of nature fail, Fast sinking in the narrow vale ? My Mother ! Who is she, now so rack'd with pain. Whilst all the cares of love are vain To ward off Death's approaching reign ? My Mother ! Who is she, now so meek and mild, As gentle as an infant child, Before by wickedness defiled ? My Mother I Who is she ? while the hopes of earth Have vanish'd, feels His matchless worth Who gave the hope of Heaven birth ? My Motl^er ! 83 Who is she speaks His wondrous love Whose head sustain'd the hov'ringdove With all her thoughts and hopes above ? My Mother ! Who is she that, with humble voice, Confesses Mary's honour'd choice, And dares in weakness to rejoice ? My Mother! Who is she speaks with contrite soul, Her own unworthiness— the whole Of care, who does on Jesus roll ? My Mother! Who is she lifts her feeble eyes To Him who reigns above the skies. And prays her children may he icise? My Mother ! Who is she that we hope to meet, Where crowns are cast at Jesus' feet. And angels sing in chorus sweet ? My Mother ! m QOB I f 34 ! may the Saviour's presence be In the last mortal agony. To cor'Uort and to bless, with thee, My Mother ! And may you then in triumph sing, For me, Death ! thou hast no sting ! Whilst thou art borne on angel's wing, My Mother ! HAMILTON; BOOK I. ARGUMENT. Scene- The Mountain above the Town. he manner of .tacreatioa-the appearance of the plants |»d a„.mals as they rise into being-the creation Adam-Paradise lost and regained-an apology for wan dermg_an address to the muse-Homer-srrie ures " duell,„g-Lake Ontario in eal,„ and in storm -it River St Lawrence source and course - return a^ain of its Illustrated the wisdom and goodness of the Creator. ■ ,1 I HAMILTON; BOOK I. Glorious light and vision, clear and bright, They lift the landscape from the depth of night, The eye is a Daguerreotype, which brings Within the soul these fair created things. Night has withdrawn her curtain westward far j Of all her empire not a single star Bemains behind— ^Sol bursts upon the sight, And fills creation with his golden light : When God commanded — -Let dry land appear ! Beauty and Grandeur both presided here ; They ask'd permission, which th' Eternal gave-— ? While plains and mountains rose above the wave, The wide-spread landscape which we now behold In glorious sublimity to mould. Methinks I see the wild waves roaring foanj, AH rushing down the mountains to their home, S8 u 38 Where soon they settle to a mirror's calm, While into life the tinny myriads swarm. As yet, the landscape all is bleak and bare — No ! see the flow'rs are springing, fresh and fair, Throwing their new-born incense on the air ; New objects rise, delighting ev'ry sense — By magic is it ? — No ! Omnipotence ! Now rise tli' ambitious forests' to\v'j'ing high, Bearing their leafy honors to the sky ; But on yon mountain's verge, of azure tinge. Dim distance sinks them to a verdant fringe, While all around, the humid mould is seen Changing its surface to a living green — But all that's made on mountain, vale or grove, Stand where they rose, and have no pow'r to move : Flow'rs, plants and forests stand where first they stood. When God created them and call'd them ** good." Altho' the flowrets breathe their odors round, They have not pow'r to trip along the ground. But see — what's this ? behold a wonder here — Yon shapeless mass has bounded off — a deer ! 89 And see yon hillock move — behold it pant — It rises now a mighty elephant : And see yon 2)iecc of turf — aloft it springs To heav'n exulting on its new-born wings ; While all around, upstarting from the earth, Myriads of beings rise to sudden birth ; "While beasts, call'd savage, range thro' hill and glen,— Bears, wolves and tigers all were harmless then, God made them good, and tho' theij never ate The Tree of Knowledge, yet it was their fate — As man was monarch of each lower thing — That tliey, his subjects, all should suffer with their King. Of all the creatures which around us rise, That walk the earth or wing them to the skies — Of ev'ry species there exists but one, All males as vet — of females there are non'e : And tho' they spOrt, and sing, or gambol round, No two in close companionship are found ; But when the sun had left the glowing west. Tired of their gamboling they sink to rest, Buried at once in their first sleep profound, 40 Perch'd on the trees, or crouch *d upon the ground, They all repose until the morning ray Proclaim'd the coming of the new-born day. Roused from their slumbers all these sleepers find "With pleased surprise a comrade of their kind. They lay them down all singly in their lairs To sleeji, alone, but now they rise in pairs : Beside the fleecy ram starts up an ewe, Beside the antle'd buck a nimble doe ; And see, by wann, unerring instinct drawn, Upon the lioness the lion fawn. The cock's shrill clarion wakes a startled hen Before he clapp'd his wings to crow again ; From ofi* the perch upon the ground she flew, The cock soon follow'd, eager to pursue ; She looks behind her, half-inclined to stay, But tim'rous still, she flies and runs away ; He soon o'ertakes her, and with cackling /^oo-sftT Tells her he's nothing but a harmless rooster : Tho' shy at first, she's won by his narration, And cackles forth her cordial approbation. And when he finds that he a mate has won, He claps his wings and sounds his clarion, 41 e ground, [lay. epers find ir kind, [airs irs : iwn, d iicn in; e flew, > ay, ; flooster )oster ; Ltion, in. ron, That all the new-created world may hear The nuptial trumpet of plumed chanticleer. Then Time was young — but now six thousand years Have roll'd in company with rolling spheres, Since God's first fiat came — ** Let there be light !" And flashed effulgence on chaotic night. Then *' Let the light be gathered !" It was done. It flew to one bright point, and form'd a sun. Who rules, a king sublime — his realm is light, Girt by a wide circumference of night. And when the world — a glorious domain — Was finish'd all, there was no king to reign ; But soon a wondrous being rose to birth, Part sprung from heav'n, but close allied to earth, His form material moulded from the clod. The intellectual part — the breath of God ! Amazing union this of mould and mind — God's image, form'd of clay, and call'd mankind ! While Adam sleeps, another form is cast — Hail, beauteous woman, loveliest and last ! Tho' man is monarch, yet he owns her sway, She beRt can rule, when willing to obey. i ■fc hi * 42 We shall not pause to weep o'er Adam's fall, Who sinii'd, and would have lied Jehovah's call. Tho' Paradise was lost as soon as stain'd, , There is a hrighter Paradise regained : The Second Adam, God, mIio was the Word, Achieved the triumph — David's Son and Lord! And they who would His honour'd servants he, May have the grace — He gives it without fee. But some there are who think e'en Paradise li 'jHip worth if purchased vdth :)ut price ; Yet i ihe purchase, yes ! a 2)ncc was paid, Wortli more thdii worhh, tho' 'gainst it worlds were weigh'd ! What was the purchase ? 'twas a Saviour's hlood ! Who was that Saviour ? Christ, the Son of God ! For man He did what man could ne'er have wrought ; To man He gave what man could ne'er have bought ; A glorious gift ! an Eden in the skies ! That sons of men to sons of God may rise ! As light resum'd her empire in the sky, I wander'd here, intending to descry, 48 And then describe the sceiK-ry around. The lofty mountain, and the deep profound ; The town, the bay, the woods, and table-land, With all that's seen, or benutiful or grand, But for my subjects I ha^'o wandered far, Thro' time and space, with chance my guiding star ; My muse capricious, oft on fitful wing, Flies where she pleases, or she will not sing ; Like that bright bird in miniature whose song Lies in its wings, it briskly hums along, Collecting sweets, it has no other aim, From flow'r to flow'r : iiiv muse would do the same, Oh Muse ! what art thou '? strange, mysterious sprite, Who first invoked thee from the realms of light ? What happy bard first waked the living lyre, Did he create thee, or didst thou inspire ? Wert thou the creature of his fancy, wrought '• To fullness by the fiat of his thought ;" Or did'st thou come to make thy being known, While intellectual glory round thee shone. The lyre thy sceptre, and the mind thy throne. -A Ml H ' ( 41 Bid'st thou illumine, in the olden time, The mind of Homer with thy light sublime, Who roU'd in majesty the tide of song, Bright'ning in glory as it rolls along, In heavenly harmony through distant years, Bright and immortal as revolving spheres ? ; How many names w^ere saved by Homer's lyre. From blank oblivion ! his poetic fire Enshrin'd their mem'ries, and bequeath'd each name. An everlasting legacy to fame, Well I remember, 'twas in boyhood's hours, T read him first 'mid wild woods and wild flow'rs, Tending the oxen in the hours of noon. In brightest days of sunny May and June, When ** Buck and Bright " wore from the yoke releas'd To rest, and on the w^oodland herbage feast. There w^as no pasture fields, then all was new. But flow'rs and herbs in wild profusion grew ; Since then laborious, persevering toil Has clear'd the woods, and ploughshares turn'd the soil. 14 45 ae, iars, es? •' 's lyre, bth'd each urs, Id flow'rs, iie, the yoke fast. |s new, ;rew ; turn'd Upon a bank, thick strewn with wither 'd leaves. Where Nature's hand the mossy carpet weaves, I oft reclined, with Iliad in hand. By forests shaded, and " by soft winds fann'd ;" The oxen browsing round, whose brazen bell. With noisy tongue, their whereabouts would tell. But heedless oft, I let them wander far, While Grecian hoi'oes leap'd the lofty car, To thunder on tlu'o' Uion's glorious war ; Where hostile arm 'gainst hostile armour rings. Led on by Hector and the King of Kings. It seems but now, no power can Ilion save, Then back to Greece fierce rolls the struggling wave. Thus in alternate vict'ry and defeat. The Trojans now, and now the Greeks retreat. Till God-like Hector, prop of Ilion's walls, Meets fierce Achilles, and great Hector falls. Mellow'd by lapse of years, and song sublime, The mind forgets that carnage is a crime ; That never yet the car of vict'ry roU'd, But blood of heroes stain'd the verdant mould ; That never yet the blast of war was blown Ms i t III •10 That was not ecliood bv the widow's moan : E'er since the rei.!j;u of violence began, *' "War seems an instinct natural to man ;" And not alone in war's embattled strife Has been the fearful wastes of human life ; The dark assassin, and tierce private l)roils, Have glutted carnage with unnumber'd spoils. Ev'n lloHonr, with her sanguinary code, Besmear 'd with blood, has o'er her victims strode. If this be Honour, fiend of bastard birth, We would that Honour banished were from earth. Honour, forsooth ! l)ecause an idle thought, In anger utter'd, with no meaning fraught, To call perhaps a friend to deadly strife, To lose your own or take another's life. Honour ! to cjiuse a helpless ori)han's cries, lUither than for that fault apologize. Strange Jumour this — to heal it's wounded pride By wilful murder — foulest homicide. O i^ioon-struck madmen ! desperate and rash, To heal a pimple make a hatchet's gash ; To wipe a trifling stain from your attire You cast it off, and tramp it in the mii'C. 47 Your pride is "wounded ; that it were slain, And then Eeligion would not speak in vain. " Vengeance is mine," says God, " let man for- give Who needs forgiveness ; let thy fellow live ! Ten thousand talents long thou owest me, Then let the hundred-pence offender free." But Custom contradicts the God of Heaven ! '' Without his blood he must not be forgiven ;'* And man obeys her ; duellists will fight 'Till it is fashionable to do right ;* Then man may know (perhaps some ages hence 'Tis no disgrace to pardon an offence ;) And that it is a greater crime to kill Than to acknowledge he has acted ill i Better be called a caivard than to be A murc'lY ; foul, dark-stained with infamy : 'Till then he'll go to hell, an honour'd brave, Rather than meet the scoff of fool or knave ; He'd leather brave Jehovah's wrath and ban Than bear the sneer and ridicule of man — • A great and favourable change has taken place in publiQ aeutimeut since the abgve w^a written. 48 And then, forsooth, these honorahle fools Are quite exclusive in their tilting rules ; A gentleman must never kill, no ! In single fight aught but an equal foe; The glorious style of chivalry must fall, Nobility, gentjlity and all. If to a plebeian any noble sot Should give the privilege of being shot By his patrician bullet. How can scorn I4ke this by poor plebeians e'er be borne ! The sunbeams throw upon the water's bright A horizontal line of golden light ; Ontario gtretches to the eastward far, A mighty mirror, where each brilliant star Beholds its image far beneath the wave, Set in the mimie sub-marine concave ; But oft the mirror's ^ace is wildly riv'n Tc shtifcter'd fragments by the winds of heay'n, When tempests leagued with thunder wildly roar, Eesolved the deep's foundations to explore : This rough companionship of wind and fir^ Bouse,s the waters iij tumultuous ire, 49 Which roll to mountains, as they fiercely rise In foaming vengeance, to invade the skies ; While uproar wild, the attribute of storms, All air, and earth, and sea, and sky deforms ; But, like contending chiefs of equal might, Nor this will yield nor that can gain the fight ; Tired of sueh equal, fierce, laborious strife, Yet fearing loss of honor more than life, They both agree to leave th* unconquer'd field, Both tacitly j.*etreat tkough neither yield ; Ho do the jarring elements contend, ^or this can soar to he^av'n, ixor that descend Down to the deep ; but as the tempest first In booming fury on the billows burst, It first withdraws from off the angry waves, And soon the sea less furiously raves^ And now, forgetful of its billowy throes, It sleeps j;i cajm, magnificent repose. Far in the boundless west and frozen north, The great St. Lawrence springs and rushes forth From mighty Lake Superior, fitting source Of our great iiver, whose impetuous eoiu: ie 50 Sweeps through our northern world, 'till all his vast Amount of tribute's in the ocean cast ; But many a resting-place and transient homo He finds, ere mingling with the ocean's foam ; In Huron first, and Michigan he pours, And calmly rests, or boisterously roars Along thisir vast uncultivated shores.* Not long he stays in beautiful St. Clair, But wanders through it, down to Erie, where He rests awhile, with added power to roll His billo^vy course down to his billowy goal. But hark ! what means this wild, tremendoua roar? Yon rocky battlements he tumbles o'er ! His stream is broken, dislocated, smash'd, 'Gainst rugged rocks, to foaming fragments dash'd ! As o'er the wonder of om* Western world In wildest fury he's sublimely hurl'd ; • Some of these shores have been since cleared and culti- vated. M Wliose iiiifjhty, vast, intcrminablo roar Ne'er ceased ])ut wlion creation had no shore, When all the world was one unhoinided wave, To all the world an overwhelming grave, Wlien nought above the nniv(»rsal sea "Was seen, hut Noah's lone menagerie : Tlicn ceased Niagara o'er the rocks to hound, And far beneath the waves his thunders all were drown'd. But ere he ceaserl he swell'd ten thousand fold, Louder ten thousand times his thunders roU'd, ]]ef()re the waters on Niagara back'd The world was one wild, roaring cataract, "When ev'ry stripling streamlet claim'd a right To ]>ellow with a giant torrent's might ; Each claim'd a town or city for its prey — Man and his works were wildly swept away ! But hark ! amid its fierce conflicting roar, A still small voice — *' It shall be so no more !" From yonder angel of the minbow form, "Who smiles above the cataractinc storm. A low'ring, soaring mount of foam is ever 'o> Seen here above the diblocated river ; i 4! r>2 oil ! what a gorgeous place for Neptune's throne I Methinks upon its undulating cone I see him now, where air and wave are blending "Wliile Iris o'er his brow her diadem is bendmg! The river rages, roars and rushes on ; Now see him bellowing down the whirlpool gone. But soon he rises, flows, and spreads upon Ontario's bosom, where, in calm repose. He seems to rest, but still he onward flows In prouder majesty and mightier force. Bathing a thousand islands in his course, 'Till Anticosti's coast his current laves, And mightier ocean drinks his mighty waves. All swallowed by the rolling ocean brine. In depths where pearls in lonely glory sliine. Where coral architects for ages past Have built their rocky mountains, huge and vast. With their own skeletons, in ocean's womb. Their birth-place, dwelling, monument and tomb. Forever buried there he seems to lie — What pow'r can change our river's destiny ? * 53 Two thousand miles he rolled his rapid wave, Was it to find an everlasting grave ? It is not so — his buried stream shall rise On resurrection pinions to the skies, On wings of light, invisible to soar Far, far beyond the angry ocean's roar ; His waters, changed to thin expanded steam, Now rise to heav'n upon the golden beam ; A bright infinity of thirsty rays Exhale the fluid in a misty haze, Which floats aloftj at first a fleecy shroud. But soon increases to a denser cloud, 'Till all the horizon is overcast, Except when broken by the fitful blast . Which piles the clouds to vap'ry mountains vast. The river, changed to vapor, now is driven Along his airy aqueduct thro' heaven, Bearing the thunder in his cloudy breast, Like lions sleeping tranquilly at rest ; But if to touch him aught material dare, The startled monster flashes from his lair. And hurls destruction in one sudden flash On tree or steeple, or whate'er so rash ^^ 54 As rouBe bis anpjer, while his startling flash Wakes all the slumb'riug thimclerholts that soar Among the clouds, which start with answering roar, 'Till all the vault of hcav'n seems downward crashing, While o'er the ruins lightnings wild are flashing : From cloud to cloud the bellowing demons rage, 'Gainst all but chaos war they . m to wage. See yonder oak, to shattered splinters riven — They leaped upon it from the vault of heaven ; 'Gainst yonder dome with fearful force they bound — But see them flash all harmless to the gi-ound. Saved by the pointed steel the massy tower Still frowns defiance to the lightning's power. Great Franklin's skill defies the flash and roar Of what was deem'd omnipotent before. And can command the tyrant from the sky. And make him in a prison calmly lie. *' Knowledge is pow'r," said England's mighty sage, Knowledge is pow'r, repeats each passing age ; |i 55 ,. Ot "What science yet may gloriously achieve Is hard to know, and harder to helieve ; If yet within her infancy of lijjjht, ^Miat will she l)e, when in meridian mipiht She flashes o'er the realm of hanish'd night ? But now, exhausted all ihv thunders rest, While glory heams upon each mountain crest Tliat floats along majestically high, A vap'ry river flowing thro' the sky, All spreading o'er the wooded wide expanse, Where sparkling streams in tumhling frolic dance. O'er lofty mounts, and streams and valleys wide, Who sent their streams to fill his downward tide. But silent now is many a bahbling brook. All shrunk expiring in their marshy nook. And manv a torrent now has lost its force, Cree2)ing along an almost silent course — But see, the ocean river brings them aid, And all thfir gifts are hour '.eously repaid. Descending now in gently-falling show'rs. To meet him joyful rise the herbs and flow'rs ; Now pours in floods from his dissolving cloud — Again the tumbling torrent roars aloud, -r # 56 Again the sparkling streamlet flows along, Babbling to flow'rs and birds its pebbly song : Thus, all his tributary streams supplied. He pours the rest in great Superior's tide. And having ceased his wanderings thro' heaven. His stream again is to the ocean given. While in this mighty interchanging round. What love, what pow'r, what providence profound Is here developed ; while thro* cloud and flood In Nature's works we see the hand of God. lg» song: e, heaven, d, profound [ flood id. HAMILTON; BOOK II. ARGUMENT. The Deluge. J^ne warning of iht^ p.* • , f»e-the building , Ale ^r^'"'''- "^'^''' ">«?'<- -" h« family into t e a"^:7 "" -'™n- «f Noah "--beginning of the 0^^^! JT "f *"<' ''"-■> the safety of the fish but th^- \ "" ^''»»"'<'«on- 'heu they are left by th tZ T'"' ""'''-"<»•. "•e employment of /oah andls'V f ""' """— evening hymn-they desire ^ .^^'~* '""y*'' "■"• «» the summit of Ararat! ' '^' '^''=-'' ^«'«« doI-s,r::,;\:r'„:<',^."'"-'-n-N„ah «,nds the i"y on the occasion. "" "'« ""'o leaf-their God opens the Art tK„ r • ^"■M «n altar and sac^Tfiet r7 "" ""^ animals-they -'1 - more, and e^S^Jif l^.'"' '^ '"'*''^ ""« HAMILTON; BOOK II We.. ^, t.,e ..... eo„rso tlu..,, eart. a„, Rul'd by th'uneiTin^ laws fhnf r n Excepting one? «.I.,.„ . "'"^ witH to time. Or river wU 7;, °°' '^ •^*'-«^™'"t I'-'IM, loll d throughout oia Noah's world ^v^'at mind ;: „: ":t r -•' ^""""' How look',1 the not "^"" "''" ^«">' *^" ^v- hoarc^:r ;:;;rr" "'^"- ^"--' >-" Tile floodc * ^'"' '""H'na'i'led all ^i'efloodMo come, and they obe/d the call; 60 The Patriarch often warn'd them o'er and o'er, And many a scoflf the rifihteous prophet bore « From the fierce offspring of unholy Cain, Who ridiculed with blasphemy profane. His exhortations and laborious toil, His threaten'd deluge, and his sea-bound pile, Which by Divine command he slowly rears. Progressing onward through a term of years ; But all his kindred and his race are blind, His family alone of all his kind Believe the warning, and they bear a part With willing industry and skilful art, To build the vessel, and with many a blow They lay the tow'ring gowpher forest low, And hew and frame the massy beams, and joIa Them well together, and with timber line, Then oyer all on either finish'd side They pour the black and boiling pitchy tide. The fabric fii^ish'd thus, from ^eld and wood They gather all varieties of food ; Large stores of roots, and herbs, and hay and cornj By Noah and his family were borne Into the ark, and safely stored away la mjiny a spacious granary and bay ; 61 They then took seed of ev'ry fruit and flow'r From field and garden, mountain, plain and bow'r; And ev'ry nice variety of fruit That well did for a lengthened voyage suit — The rich pomegranate, apple, peach and pear, The cocoanut, and grapes both rich and rare, With all the best that natm-e could afford, Were in their own apartments safely stored. They took no stores of flesh ; it seems that men Were not as now, like beasts, carnivorous then, For only fruits and herbs at first were given To man by Him who made the earth and heaven,, *Twas not till after the destroying flood God gave them flesh to eat, all but the blood ; But cheese and butter made from goat and kine They took, and large supplies of gen'rous wine, With which they did their leathern bottles fill ; To grind their corn they took the useful mill, The distaff, earthenware, and weaver's loom. Their vessels, clothing, ornaments and brooDi. Their husbands also, with prudential care, Becured the harrow, shovel and plough-share ; t ¥ / 62 The scythe and siclde, mattock, axe and spade For future use were in the vessel laid. Thus all that skill or foresight could provide Were by their hands industriously supplied. When God informed them, "Ere a week be past The deluge shall upon the world be cast ; Come, gather all the beasts and living things That on their bellies go, or feet, or wings : Take two and two of those that thou hast seen To be or reptile, rav'nous or unclean. But those for man's peculiar service given, Of beast or bird that's clean, take with the© seven. >• Once all the birds and beasts to Adam came To do him homage and receive a name, And now once more the mountain, marsh and fen, The forest, eyrie, cavern, vale and den, The open field, and jungle drear and dark, Pour forth their inmates to the Patriarch. The lions, tigers, leopards, wolves and bears, Their fierceness muzzled, leavq their dens in paiirsj 6^ The zebra and imperial giraffe, With others — but I need not mention half The desert beasts that came — indeed I could not, And if I could you may be sure I would not. But now in pairs comt on the monkey gang, The ape, baboon, and wild ouran-outang ; Next anacondas lead the serpent race. Which o'er the ground their slimy progress trace — If Noah had been of St. Patrick's mind He would have left such passengers behind. In due obedience to the will of heaven. They from their flocks and herds selected seven Of ev'ry race, which to the ark were given ; Next come the wing'd inhabitants of air. Of clean birds seven, of unclean each a pair ; The eagle, vulture, cormorant and owl. And ev'ry other fierce carniv'rous fowl. Come two and two, from heaven tamely stooping, Submitting to their unaccustom'd cooping ; The peacock and the ostrich strut along. And all the various birds of plume and song, The linnet, blackbird, thrush and nightingale, And lurk that docs the early morning hail, Hie tow'ds the ark ; each wild and tim'rous thing, Devoid of fear descends on willing wing, While Noah and his sous arrange them all, Both bird and beast, in aviary and stall ; When all the animals ^svere in, whose lives Were to be si)ared, fom* husbands wi]th their wives Next entered in the ark — God closed the door. And Noah's many years of toil were o'er. . f The human world, unconscious of theii* doom. Are careless as the flow'rs that round them bloom, Thro' future centmies they think of living, Some marrying, and some in marriage giving. Eating and drinking, building, planting, sowing, Nor on the deluge once a thought bestowing ; While mighty hosts, led by contending kings, Tow'ring aloft on ** conquest's crimson wings," Lead on their legions proudly to contend For universal empire, and to bend The world beneath their bold, ambitious reign, And then to rear their thrones on mountains of the slain. 65 Their Icfjions meet, by madd'ning fury driven, While bhizing hehiis by flashing swords are riven, Led on by giant cliieftains tow'ring high, Encased in well-proved polish'd panoply, While carnage strews the ground with dead and dying, And broken arms on broken limbs are lying. But see that flash ! creation seems on fire ! Transfix'd they stand, struck with the omen dire, While all the congregated bolts of heaven At one dread peal are through creation driven ! Compared with that terrific, scathing light. The day is darkness and the noon is night ! All thought is lost of victory or flight, All noise is silence to that crashing sound, God's voice in thunder " Let the world he drown' d /" Down pours the flood, while earth's wide open- ing womb Pours forth a foaming deluge to entomb Herself and offspring. See yon chieftain's brow, How pale and wan ! where is his courage now ? 66 His voice of vict'ry and hia eye of fire ? Gone, with his army's fierce contending ire. His foaming charger wildly tries to brave The roaring flood, then sinks beneath the wave, While dead and dying, mingling friends and foes, Are swept away, as down the deluge flows. Hundreds of brides that day had deck'd their charms. To grace their proud, exulting bridegroom's arms, All stricken now with wild, tierrific wonder At that fierce flash and dooming earthquake thun- der ; They sink aghast, all terror-blighted, wan. Into the arms of nerveless, powerless man. All struggling now they sink beneath the wave. In lock'd embrace, their bridal bed and grave ; While human agony in wildest power Is heard where hills and forests vainly tow'r : No lofty hill, or tree, or tow'r, can save,. Above them sweeps the overwhelming wave. Which drowns their cry, and drowns the bellow- ing roar Of flocks and herds, whose feet can find no shore. 67 /> The eagle, tow'ring late on boldest wing, Is screaming now, a drowning, helpless thing ; The mighty lion, monarch of the wood. Hi'- empire lost, is flound'ring in the flood. As helpless now, and feeble in his pow'r. As e*er was lambkin frightened by his roar. True to his nature, see yon tiger grasp A struggling infant with his latest gasp, Swept with its mother on the raging flood, His last fierce act to steep his jaws in blood ! 'Gainst all the doom'd inhabitants of earth. Of human, quadruped, or reptile birth. And all the wing'd explorers of the sky, God's fiat has gone forth, That all must die, Except the inmates of yon gopher pile, In all the ocean world the only isle — A lonely ship without a sail unfurl'd A monument above a buried world ; The only ship without helm, sail or oar. That e'er was built or since it or before ; The only ship that e'er was built inland, A thousand miles or more from ocean's strand- 1 «8 That ocean wave the vessel never sought, But to its keel the ocean-wave was brought, Met by the deluge from the mountains flowing, The works of man and nature overthrowing. While not an avalanche remains unhurl'd Throughout the water-doom'd deluvian world. And not a mountain crest of gleaming snow But melts and joins the tumbling torrents' flow, And all the icy mounts that guard the pole Broken, upon th' invading billows roll. From off their deep and dark foundations torn. And on the sweeping wave triumphant borne, While all the deep abyss tow'rds heaven is gush- ing, Met by the deluge down from heaven rushing. A crowd of giants gain'd with efforts vast Yon mountain's summit ; 'twas their only, last Wild hope of succour, from the with'ring blast Of God's tremendous anger, and while there A troop of lions struggling from their lair. Tigers and elephants, by instinct urged To reach the ground that last would be sub- mergid. 69 'I' fe, nng, '^ g» ' rid, >w ' flow, Q torn, L'lie, IS gush- ttig- last ^last k sub- In wildest panic dashed among the crowd Of congregated giants, while aloud Above the storm was heard the shriek and roar Of trampled agony, while floods of gore From man and monster pour'd upon the ground, Whilst terror, slaughter, madness, raged around, And as they fought, the angry sky was riven. And in full volume from the vault of heaven A cat'ract rushes with o'erwhelming wave. And man and beast are swept in one promiscous grave. Thus perish'd all the tribes of earth and air. All ended now their struggling and despair. The natives of the flood, the whale and shark. With all that skim the wave, or lij in caverns dark, Ai"e safe from harm — the waves engulph the earth, . And drown the creatures it had given birth, But all the finny tenants of the wave Swim safely o'er th' interminable grave, And as they swim, luxuriantly feast Upon the carcases of man and beast, I 70 And joyful see the ocean's widening reign ' The lofty summits of the mountains gain, And as they range their buried summits o'er, They revel in a sea without a shore, But when the flood had done its errand dire. Then God commanded " Let the floods retire." The floods obey, dry land appears again, The mountain tops as new-form'd isles, and then His vessel, who the second world begat, Fast grounded on the shoals of Ararat, 'Twas then the countless tribes of ocean birth In caves and valleys of the rising earth Were left behind it by the truant sea In struggling, gasping, scorch'd captivity. 'Twas by the rising of the rolling main The countless multitudes of earth were slain, Then triumphed all the natives of the surge When their thick atmosphere did earth sub- merge. — But now they suffer — in his fatal fangs Destruction seizes them, with horrid pangs. While whale on whale, late monarchs of the sea, Loud lash their flukes in giant agony, t> Bub- sea, 71 Beating to death at each tremendous blow The Bcaly, splashing myriads below, While thousands spout aloft the foaming flood, Commingled streams of water, slime and blood. The full-gorged sharks, dread tigers of the main, Beat the red waves in fierce and furious pain While round them float the myriads of the slain. Now from the window see a bird let go, *Tis Noah's dove fast flying to and fro. But finds no spot above the billow's crest. Except the ark, whereon her foot might rest, But soon Jehovah sent the earth relief. And then she found the verdant olive leaf, This peaceful sign proclaimed the deluge o'er. And seas descending to their ancient shore, And there enchained by God's eternal fiat, Above a buried world no more to riot. The rivers wander to their ancient bounds, Again the roaring cataract resounds — How fearful and how wondrous are the ways Of Him who all eternity surveys. Who sends alike the storm and peaceful caln^, And holds the boundless ocean in his palm,, 72 And when his wrath was fearfully unfurl'd, He overwhelm'd his own created world, That scorn'd his mercy and his wrath defied — Oh that the flood that world had purified ! Man's thoughts are "often only evil" still, And deeds of wickedness those thoughts fulfil. All closely seal'd within their sacred bark, The family of the pious patriarch Were not allow'd to see the deluge fall, When all the world without a funeral Was buried in one mighty turfless grave, Their churchyard was the all-devouring wave ; They in the ark could hear the madd'ning roar Of jarring elements, but nothing more ; What were their feelings, then, and who can tell What grief, what joy did in their bosoms swell, When all the world was drown'd and they alone Were spared, and o'er the waves in safety borne. Their own deliverance bade them all rejoice, But for the world they could lift up their voice, And weep aloud, tho' both at eve and morn, They oft had laugh'd the prophet's words to acorn ; 73 d-- Ifil. ^, re; oar tell [ell, [lone lorne. ice, icorn ; Yet for their doom the tear of sorrow stole, Tho' oft their sins had " vex'd his righteous soul.*' But little time was left in grief to spend, They had their wild menagerie to tend. The coop, the fold, the aviary and stall Began aloud and clamorous to call For food and water — these must be supplied At morn and evening, and they did divide To each its portion — herbage, grain and grass — To ev'ry one, just as its nature was; Not one was idle ; Mother Noah, and Her daughters aided, each with willing hand. To feed their beasts, and keep their dwelling clean, They were employ'd from morning tide till e'en, And when at night, their careful labor done, Tho' changing seasons they of course had none. No land or country, nation, coast or clime. No fruit or flow'rs to tend the march of time. Yet they had day and night — the constant sun His usual course did thro' the heavens run, As true as when his race at first begun. 74 ' i f Within their own apartments they would meet And round the table take their usual seat ; When ha^'ing risen from their evening meal, In pious gratitude they all would kneel ; / Their father, then, of venerable form, Would raise his voice to Him who rules the storm ; With tone of pathos, simple and sublime. He spoke to Him who rules eternity and time. ** thou, who fiU'st immensity of space. Before whose presence angels veil their face, The seraphim and cherubim, and all The high and bright intelligences fall. And worship thee, who art Lord God of all ; We, the lone remnants of old Adam's race. In humble reverence would seek thy face. Lord God of Heaven, who hast now destroyed Thy creature, man, and left the eaHh a void, grant, that when the earth again is brought From out the ocean, that the fearful thought Of their destruction, and thy saving love In saving us, our hearts and souls may move To cleave to thee with purpose firm indeed. Ourselves, our children, and our children's seed/* 75 So spake our sire, and now to heaven tliey raise Their voices in :i grateful song of praise, And while their voices tliro' the chambers ran- Methinks it was like this, the song they sang T Great is our Lord God, Jehovah, Strong to punish and to save, He calls the floods— the floods come over— All the world is one wide wave. Loud the deadly deluge rages, Floods from heaven's windows fall, But we will trust the Rock of Ages, For He is the Lord of all. Now He's in the whu:lwind riding With His tempests all unfurl'd, ' In anger all His mercy hiding From a doom'd and buried world. But we are safe ; on bounding billows Flies our heaven-directed bark, While the ocean safely pillows In its foam the favor'd ark. / !V 7(3 Glory to the God of Heaveu, And the God of soa and earth, , Who hath us a refuge given, To be creation's s<3cond birth. Thus as they sail'd, without a sail unfurl'd, From Ante to the Post-Deluvian world. They pass'd their time between their daily care And mom and evening worship, praise and pray'r. And oft they B.poke of former times, and when The human race would be supplied again ; But of the voyage they began to tire. And often asked their venerable sire How long 'twould be before the ocean swell Would be abated, but he could not tell. How much they wished to see the world onco more, And leave their vessel fot some friendly shore, Once more to see the fields of smiling green. In springtide beauty or in summer's sheen, And oft their tears would natm'ally flow For those who wander'd with them long ago, I 77 Their comrades in their joyous early years, Who sharM their joys, their sorrows and their tears. But time will drain the greatest sorrows dry. Unless new griefs create a new supply ; Soon for themselves more frequently they thought, And in the future they the past forgot. All had heen calm and still for many days, Nor wind, nor rain, nor fitful lightning's blaze ^ Was lately heard or seen — but listen — hark ! The wind has waked, and whistles round the ark; It soon increases to a tempest strong, And they on bounding billows sweep along, But while the wind above the wavcs was flying From off the earth the waters fast were drying ; At last they felt a sudden shock, and then The ark stood fast, and did not move again, Until the world was dry, it firmly sat Upon the summit of Mount Ararat ; In month the tenth the mountain tops were seen By God and angels, but not yet by men, i 78 For thoy were close confined within the wrk. And all to them as yet was drear and dark. i Now Noah sends a raven to behold If earth was dry — ^the raven never told, But to and fro she flew 'tween earth and heaven, And ne'er again return'd the truant raven. Preferring much to see the long-lost sun And feast upon the floating carrion. And next he sends away the meek-eyed dove, But it can find no mountain-top above The sea-green wave, and tired she soon returns ; He takes her in, and most assuredly learns, From moisten'd plume, and soil'd and drooping pinion, That o'er the earth the sea still holds dominion. In seven days, again he bids her fly ; Away she sweeps again thro' air and sky. At eve returns — ** Thank heav'n, here comes relief, A glorious prize — a verdant olive leaf ; wife, come here ! the world again is drying ! With this green leaf the joyful dove came flying ! How fresh it looks! Where's Japhet, Ham and Shem ? A'v\'fty ! away ! go call the rest of them !" k. Baven, 7e, urns; ooping iiion. relief, ^g ! ying! Q and I 79 IV. She hastes away — with joyful voice and eyes, > She tells them of the verdant olive prize. They quickly come, assemble round the spray. And with thanksgivings close the joyful day. Again seven days, and Noah bids her fly ; She ne'er again return'd — the world was dry. Next mom he took the covering away. And all the world in vernal glory lay ; The grass was green, the wild flow'rs grew around, But with no woods the mountain tops were crown'd. Beneath the storm and deluge roaring loud The lofty forests of the mountains bow'd. Bent and uprooted by the flood and blast. And on the wild tumultuous billows cast, Now left in drifted heaps on vale and plain, Or scatter'd on the wide and boundless main. ► They long to tread the new-discovered land, But humbly wait for God's directing hand. He bids them go — unseals the long-closed door And all their drear imprisonment was o'er. f Since tlioy had looked upon the world, the Ann Had thro' the zodiac constellations run. They now unbar each kennol, ca<»e and room, And forth in pairs the willing pris'ners come ; First, all the reptile and carniv'rous brood, Who flee in pairs to some lone solitude, Creeping; and bounding down the mountain side Far o'er the plain they soon are scatter'd wide. Beasts graminiv'rous next, clean and unclejin, Forsake the ark and gambol o'er the green, Joyful they frolic, free and uneonftned. They bound, and run, and snort, and snuff the wind, They wanton wild — 'tis nature's jubilee, And skip, t'assure tlunnselves that they are free ; Anon they rest their new-awaken'd pow'rs. And, hungry, crop the herbage, grass and flow'rs. And now the aviary to heaven springs, Exulting as in new-created wings ; ' They dart, and turn, and upward, downward fly. And wheel in circles thro' the pcopli-d sky : The eagle soars to nearer gaze upcm The bright effulgence of the new-found sun, I i ¥ ( Sim om, lie ; 1 fiide vvido. mflf the froo ; low rs. 1 Hv, 81 And if tlicir eyes a moment's gazo would risk, He Heein'd a spot upon his golden disc. But all wore not aliow'd to wander free : From out the stall, the fold and aviary, Freedom to six of all the clean was given, The seventh remain'd a saeriliee to heaven. An altar rose hy Noah'p «^ratrful hand, And then his children, J»y their sire's command, Collected wood upon the altar hif^h, And hrouf^ht th(! doom'd unconscious victims nigli. Upon the ground they pour'd tlie reeking hlood, Then piled the carcases upon the wood : And now the lu'ophet, patriarch and priest Kindles the pile, consuming hird and heast, The grateful incense floats aloft to heaven. And God replies to them hy whom 'twas given. " I, even T, who brought the deluge o'er The sin-siain'd earth, and drown'd it, will no morci Destroy the world uy flood. That ye may know This is my cov'uant, 1 will place my bow 1^ 1 ^ Within the cloud, to be a sign forever • ' To future ages, that the Lord will never ' Destroy the world again ; and this is given An everlasting sign to man from heaven." So spake the Lord — a sun-shine show'r descend- ing, Display'd the bow to earth from heav'n bending ; 'Twas hail'd with rapture by the embryo nation, God's brightest, loveliest and last creation ! God blcss'd the Patriarch, and bless'd his sons Thro' all the ages that old blessing runs. *' Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth ; From you all future nations must have birth ; And I will place of you the fear and dread On every race that fly, or swim, or tread ; Into your hands and pow'r they shall be given, As the unalterable will of Heaven. E'en as the herb, I give you them for food — Fish, flesh and fowl — ^ye shall not eat the blood f Blood is the lifr : of this ye shall not eat." To Isra'l's race this law God did repeat. The Holy Spirit gave the aame decree To the disciplesi who by Christ were free. .«&. lescend- mling ; lation, I is sons 8B Yet many people, spite the blasting shame, Who call themselves by that most honor'd name, Feed on the blood — feast on forbidden life Flowing from death-wounds by the butcher's knife. They like the l)lood. It gives their food a zest, And therefore apurn God's iriplieate behest. And this is ever so. All sin or ill Is done to gratify desire or will. Do what I like, is what all like to do, To do what God approves is liked by few. "th; ven. \l<)()d / ''■^»% ^\ HAMILTON; BOOK III. ARGUMENT. The steamboat as seen from the top of the mountain— the first invention of the steamboat by Fulton — his diffi- culties—his eventual triumph — the steam ships— returns again to the first boat —she enters the bay — the reasons why nature formed the bays, illustrated by an Indian revel — the boat reaches the wliarf — effects of dress — what is a gentleman ? — dandies made by tailors — love of dress an instinct natural to man, savage as well as civilized — • angels' dress — Tom Intellect — his character, his difficul. tics, and eventual success — self-educated genius often despised by lettered pedantry, illustrated by the turkey cock and eagle. The author i iterrupted in his cogitations upon the mountain —appearance of the town as seen fVom its sum- mit — fleetnoss of the mind or eye contrasted with animals — thti stoam car — Pegasus and Parnassus — why have we no poetical mountain in America ? — descended half way down the mountain of Hamilton, and saw the town to more advantage. \ HAMILTON; BOOK III. See yonder vessel in the distance ride, Near where the heav'ns dip into the tide, She, independent of the inconstant gale, Ne'er woos the wind to fill her flapping sail ; Proudly aloft she bears her floating form. And sweeps triumphant on through calm and storm ; She drinks a portion from the rolling wave, Which, changed to vapour, gives her pow'r to brave Or lake or ocean, in its calm or ire, With fiercely boiling breath ami iuui;s o£ fire She smokes along— a gift to every hmd Ftvm science, sent by Fulton's honoorc haad Some thirty years L ive pa^sM sin :_-^- > gave The sailless ship to press the jidtLn^ ic^Kt. i 88 With deep intensity of hopes and fears He hoard the sceptic scoff, the taunts and jeers That clo^ the efforts of the master mind Who dares to dive or soar heyond his kind. But now he triumphs — see his vessel driven By its own power without the winds of heaven, While congregated thousands wond'ring throng To soe the foamityj monster dash along, And as the multitude in wonder gaze. Confess that round him all the hrightost rays Of glory meet in one unclouded hlaze. Not less triumphant then did Fulton feel, Than when Columbus from his vent'rous keel Sprang on the shore, and saw his flag unfurl'd In waving glory on the new-found world. Years pass away, and on that very shore Where congregated crowds long years before Had seen the " Car of Neptune " lash to foam The sparkling waters of her billowy home ; Far greater multitudes admiring throng To see yon stately vessel sweep along, Come o'er the ocean from the father-land, Approaching now the steamer's native strand. .Jk. 89 Last triumph this of Fulton's mighty art, To link two worlds that rollinpj oceans part. The Sirius and Great Western first are seen, Next Liverpool, and last the gorgeous British Queen, Her wheels in motion and her flags unfurl'd, A floating palace from the olden world ; She enters now, with rich unbounded freight. The forest harbour of the Empire State. Long may she safely and triumphant ride The ocean's glory and her country's pride ; The worthy namesake of our ocean Queen Who sways Britannia's realms — may glory's sheen Forever circle round thy royal crest, To bless thy people ! On thy royal breast We would that Britain might behold an heir Worthy his mother, sent to Britain's pray'r To be the empire's hope in future years. When thou art taken, 'midst a nation^ s tears, To gain a brighter crown beyond the spheres/ But to return, and leave the ocean's surge. Yon vessel, lately seen upon the verge i '. ' * ■ \ 90 Of distant viHion, sweeps along the lake, And now cornea nearer, leaving in her wake A track of waves upon the trackless deep, While all around the tumbling billows sleep ; She nears yon sand^^ rampart, which divides The lake and bay, two near approaching tides, Thro' which a steamboat channel has been made, O'er which a navigation bridge is laid, With sudden jerk the boat-boll loudly rings. And round the bridge upon its pivot swings. She enters now the bay, whore in their pride The floating navies of th:; world miglit ride, And there defy the fiercest winds of heaven That e'er to rags have flapping canvass riven. Or on the rocks the shatter'd bark have driven. A shelt'riug port, which Nature kindly gave From hor own wrath the trembling l)ark to save, When wildly mounted on the raging blast, She rolls the billows into mountains vast, While death and desolation round are cast. As savage tribes beneath the wigwam cone. Lounge round the lire with loosely slacken'd zone, I 01 Resolving on a wild uproarious revel, Bend round from lip to lip the wliiskey devil ; But ere thoy east their senses to the wind, And cooly rush to madness fierce and blind, All justly feeling that the demon strife flight seize the rifle, tomahawk or knife, •'With method in their madness," fix on ono To take the weapons far away, which done. The whiskey then goes round in savage glee, Till all is one ivilcl roaring revelry. So Nature, fearing that no ship might ride. While storms were booming on the mount'nous tide. She made them harbors far within the shore. Begirt with mountains, that their fiercest roar Might pass unheeded, shelter'd from the blast, Wlien in a freak her wits away were cast, Possess'd by madd'ning demons of the storm. Who all her features furiously defonn. The boat comes on, and as it noars the goal. Away the carriages and waggons roll To meet the passengers a mile or more From King Street to the intercepting shore. <>< %. ,0... .o^:^^^^> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // 1.0 I.I .50 '""^ M 2.2 1.^ i^ "^ 1^ 1 40 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 'm 6" — ► V] <^ /: V v /J Photographic Sciences Corporation ^ 23 Wi-ST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^ .^"^^. ;^1%^ i^.. <> :^i »♦ : r Upon the wharf obsequious waiters stand To take your trav'ling bag, and bowing bland To all they see of fashionable grade, *' You go, sir, do you, to the Promenade !" And others, while their ready coaches range, " "You go, sir, to the Hamilton Exchange !" Wliile all the homespun peasant lab'ring band Are left unnoticed on the thronging strand, Except by waggon-teamsters, who come down To get a load of luggage for the town. The cabin-gentry mount the varnish'd carriage, On foot and waggon come the deck and steerage. One carriage stops at Promenade Hotel, Where viands wait your appetite to quell, While semi-Africans with craniums curly Obsequious wait on all the guests of Burley. Upon appearances how much depends. Not only among strangers but *mong friends. You'll smiling meet a gentlemanly knave, While homely excellence your sneers must brave. What is a gentleman ? From crown to heel A gentleman must be — be what ? — genteel ! I 93 rage. ave. The title, gentleman, in every mind In Y»^ell-made clothes is usually defined. But then before the title we can spare them, The owner must be also — used to wear them, For those who disregard this needful law Make people think of " Peacock and Jackdaw." But if his clothes get shabby, old and worn, Then gentleman is from the label torn. You can't conceive a gentleman in rags, Tho' Pride for Poverty the title begs. Nor those for gentlemen will Fashion own Whose dress is from the wardrobe of a clown, No more than those for polish'd wits who stam- mer Thro' vulgarisms, blunders and bad grammar, Excepting in a jury-box, and then The coarsest clad are always gentlemen. For lawyers, sheriffs, judges, I assure ye. Address them always so when on the jury, Tho' when they're off from it, perhaps they'd never Receive the title if they'd live for ever. ii ■V 1 I ♦Ii 91 If this be true, it surely follows, then, That 'tis the clothes that make the gentlemen, And so it is, tho' when in moral mood. You think they should be hon'rable and good, And often are, you not unfrequent find High moral worth with elegance combined. But Fashion's fiat is — Ifivell attiredy There is no gold of character required. See yonder dandy, exquisite and thin A handsome casket, but there's nothing in, 'Tis God and nature makes the honest man ; To make a dandy none but tailors can, And yet the fashionable often sneers At him who shapes his figure with his shears, And Gcoffs, and spurns, and curses him who made him, Tho' for his work perhaps he never paid hinif All wish to be respected and admired, *Tis often gain'd by being well attired ; Of course the opposite must-be confess'd, You're treated shabbily when shabby dresa'd. An instinct nat'ral to the human race Is love of dress in cv'ry time and place, 95 en, )d, s, made i E'er since the simple gardener and his wife Gave up their title to the Tree of Life, By eating of the tree of evil knowledge, And clothed their naked forms, in fig-tree foliage,. These simple garments they instinctive made. And sought to hide them far in Eden's shade.. The savage dandy and barbarian belle Are fond of dress and ornaments as well As they who glitter at a birth-day ball,. The Louvre, theatre or festival ; The first are pleas'd, in water-mirror viewing Their nose-rings, blankets, brooches and tattooing,. Their bead-work'd moccasins and scarlet zone. On which is hung a crooked powder cone. His knife, his tomahawk, and leaden hail. Kept in his pouch of squirrel-skin and tail ; His cheeks and forehead painted, and his. hair All black, besmear'd with tainted grease of bear- Accoutred thus, they feel as proud and fine As dandies exquisite or belles divine. Who skip in broadcloth or in satins shine, Array'd in all that splendor may command^ Arranged by Fashion's fl.uctuating ha.nd». i tii 'M \h 96 An oracle of song the world has told That ornament is dross on Beauty's gold, But Beauty thinks she has a right to judge, And to the oracle she answers " fudge !" Not only earthly beauties — angels, too. Have wardrobes fine — at least we know they do Dress most sublimely ever since the fall ; Before, perhaps, they did not dress at all — At lea3t we are not told ; but 'tis quite right That they should come arrayed in garments bright. For even angels, if they came without A splendid dress, would not be cared about ; Bo much do our inhabitants of earth Prefer appearances to real worth. Tom Intellect, for instance, who could soar On wings of mind magnificently o'er Yon glittering, mindless, fashionable train. Who dare to treat his presence with disdain, Tho' learning, virtue, excellence and worth Meet in his mind, he is of humble birth ; He cannot gild the casket, and to them All worthless is the peerless, priceless gem, 97 do They cannot think, whene'er they look upon His homely dress, that o'er his mind has shone The star of genius with the brilliant rays Of science in a philosophic blaze. Tho' not obtrusive, yet he feels their scorn. And feels that he is fitted to adorn A higher sphere, though scorn he must endure, While guilty of the crime of being poor. In ev'ry age — the truth must be confess'd— ** Slow rises worth, by poverty oppressed;** So sang the bard — tho' doubtless known to fame, I never knew or I have lost his name. But if obscurity should pass away, And show his genius to the blaze of day, His wealth increases, and his new-found name Is heard aloud and pointed out by Fame ; With all his mighty faculties unfurl'd, He then commands the homage of the world. Tho' letter'd pedantry will oft despise Self-educated genius when she tries To gain distinction ; spurning at his namt Who dares approach the pyramid of fiame il :j| m\ I 11 98 "Without a college scaffolding — as wise As tow'ring turkey-cock, who boldly flies From dunghill to a barn-roofs lowest edge, And walks in triumph to its topmost ledge, Where swelling out with bloated plumes and piniona He struts along the weathercock's dominions. (A gallant fellow, who, thra' cold or warm. Has never turn'd his tail upon the storm.) And now his turkeyship would fain despise The unfledged eaglet struggling to rise, Tho' in a few short months with ease he'll soar The loftiest m^ountain-tops sublimely o'er At one bold flight, when in his feathery robe, Ascend the sky, and compass half the globe.. Those people now appear to think it strange That I so long should let my vision range Around their landscape — chain'd in thought pro?- found. With one knee rested on the dewy ground, The other raised, on which my paper's spread. In hand a pencil charged with useful lead,. With which to note the images that rise Before they fade away from mem'ry's eyes* 99 I must retire — inquisitive they seem To break upon a poet's harmless dream : They now advance and call — I must away Where, screen^ 'mong woods, I can pursue my lay. Between the mountain's base and distant strand Upon a sweeping range of table land, The town of Hamilton in beauty lies. Beneath the glory of the morning skies, A picture drawn by man's industrious pow'rs. Within a '* mountain frame " that round it tow'rs, But by its mountain frame, sublime and vast, The town's to insignificancy cast ; So far God's works transcend the works of man, Far as the breezes from a lady's fan Transcended are in majesty and power By mightiest hurricanes that ever tore The rooted monarchs from the mountain's brow, While all around the leafy legions bow. When from the summit of the mountain's height Upon the valley vision bends lier flight, 100 The town seems smaller than it would ai)pear If you beheld it from a point more near ; K to advantage, then, you'd see the town. Come half-way up, or else go half-way down* The mind or eye thro' heav'n or earth can soar. In one fleet instant leap the landscape o'er. But bodies must be satisfied to go, Ev'n those with wings, comparatively slow ; Much more then, man, who goes upon his feet, (And even then than other kinds less fleet) Must travel ?low unless he goes by steam — A wonder ! for it seems but yet a dream ; Who would have thought it was prophetic truth. That while our century was in its youth, Commingled fire and flood would fast propel A train of massy cars, and do it well — Yes, far transcend the elephant in might. And almost pass the eagle in his flight. Yet such is now, and greater things may be, Wliich you and I may even live to see. When other creatures run, they take to heels ; The engine-monster always takes to wheels. 101 Unless you give him leave himself to ride He will not move along one single stride, And when he rests no provender he needs, 'Tis only when he travels that he feeds, Then give him drink and fill his mouth with wood. And while he rests he will not ask for food ; In one half hour, so rapid is his mode, He can digest a common carter's load, And then so wild and fierce his lungs will play, He hlows and fumes his forage all away. He may be yet employed in war campaigning. As hostile nations so delight in draining Each other of their lavished blood and treasure. Spirit of Caesar ! what heroic pleasure 'Twould give to those, whose element is war, To mount upon a fiercely -rolling car, While from it Perkins' bullet hurlers cast Their show'rs of death sent by the boiling blast. That from the muzzle of the steam gun dashing Propels the balls without the powder's flashing. While the huge car on wheels of blood is flying O'er lacerated legions, dead and dying. 102 i! But as I've neither steam nor buoyant wings, I must be satisfied with slower things. — As to advantage I would see the town, I must essay to clammer half way down* I wish I had the winged horse Pegassus, Which ev'ry other bird and beast surpasses. But then — he only tro^vels round Parnassus, 'Tis only there that bards may boldly stride him f. And o'er the mount majestically ride him ! And why have we no bright poetic mountain From which distils a sweet inspiring fountain. Round which might grow the lam*el and the bays Entwined with ilow'rs of song and gems of brightest rays. While harp and lyre sent forth immortal song, Swept by the muses as they pass!d along, Yes, native muses, while around them throng Bold native bards, who catch the heav'nly sound. And pluck the bays that brightly bloom around ? Perhaps some daring bard of master mind Such glorious mount may gioriously find, And open to Columbia's wond'ring eyes Her bright Pamassus as the briliant prize 103 rings. h 3 him f. 1 in, e bays tns of Of his exertion, while the hand of Fame Writes on the momitain's brow his laurcl'd name ! But as I've neither wings, nor steam, nor horse, Upon my feet I must pursue my course From rock to root — from root to rock descend. Now rapid bound, then cautiously we wend ; Now seize this twig, then leap upon yon ledge, Now cautious slip from off its rugged edge, Our slow and rapid, quick and cautious pace Soon brings us midway to the mountain's base, Where, seated on a rock, around vo glance Upon a narrower, but still ividc expanse. ng» >und, md? HAMILTON; BOOK rv. ARGUMENT. The Jail— Court-house above it— difficulty of deciding oasc3--not right that juries should be forced to be unani- mous, illustrated by a case ia point, where an innocent man is condemned and executed— the murderer discorered in the person of a dying madman. Proposes an alteration in the existing law — an occur- rence in Polish history, an illustration— juries should be paid by the country— strictures on the lawyers— an epi- taph and an anecdote— a law should be passed to limit legal expenses— but the best remedy is, to keep out of debt— the Market-house— the Church— three other churches — Dundurn Castle— and by whom erected — different opinions entertained of his character— another building— effects of banking— other buildings too numerous to mention— his seat after whom "Hamilton" is named—contrast be- tween Hamilton twelve years ago and now— anticipation looks for still greater— is marriage decided by choice, • 106 or destiny — advice to some of the gentle sex, who are not always gentle, illustrated by a story. Returns again to the scenery — Wellington Square — Port Nelson — Bronte — Samson and Nelson — both die at the moment of victory — two townships — conclusion. are not re — Port e at the HAMILTON; • BOOK n% See yonder edifice of square hewn stone — • It is not lonely, tho' it stands alone — Surmounted by a tow'r and tin-capp'd dome ; It is to many an unwilling home. The felon there awaiting judgment lies, While o'er his head the dreaded court that tries Now sits in judgment, justly to decide Of innocent or guilty — Oh how wide Apart are these extremes, and yet how near They sometimes meet — when all the case you hear, It seems no human mind can safe decree What a just verdict in the case would be ; If ruled by men of diff'ring mental sight. Both guilty and not guilty would be right. With ev'ry def rence to his royal mind, Who gave the legal blessing to mankind, !l, » 108 And ev'ry def rence to each legal sage Whose thoughts are graven on the Jurist's page, Methinks ft wrong that juries should alone, On pain of legal penalties, be sworn To be unanimous^ and give decision For or against, or else remain in prison. A shade of perjury must sometimes fall Upon the hearts of some of them, when all Profess that in the verdict they unite, Tho' all do not believe the verdict right. Perchance some hours of noisy argument. With all their stores of reasoning, were spent, When for the verdict "guilty" nine agree. There still remain, who differ from them, three. Again they canvass o'er the evidence, Both for the accusation and defence, All circumstantial — none beheld the deed, None but the murd'rer saw his victim bleed ; Murder'd and robb'd he was, and that alone Is all that can be positively known ; And yet against him circumstances meet — A track was seen resembling prisoner's feet, 111 ^ •^'- a page, le, 11 It, eut, hree. 109 And on the trampled, blood-polluted ground A double-bladed pocket knife was found, With both the carved initials of his name ; To prove the fact, another witness came, That twenty sovereigns were lately found Near prisoner's house, secreted in the ground ; 'Twas also proved the murder'd had in store In specie full five hundred pounds or more, All which was gone— the sove'reigns alone Were all that to the anxious court were shown • 'Twas also said, the prisoner was poor, Tho' no reproach had e'er been cast before Upon his name, but now he stands arraign'd, Accused before the world of being stain'd With murder foul, of human crime the worst. The second crime for which mankind was curst, In calm tho' deep intensity he stood, And heard himself arraign'd for shedding blood- " What say you pris'ner guilty or not so ?"— Not guilty ! in a tone full deep and low-^ He look'd and spoke as tho' to God from man He would appeal-— the witnesses began, 6 .r J ii! i . 110 And to the sworn impanell'd jury told Of footsteps, pocket-knife and hidden gold, With many other things which seem'd to show The prisoner was guilty. Oh what woe Is felt within that wildly throbbing frame — It is the prisoner's wife — -as evidence she came — He look'd upon her ! Oh, what dark despair. What untold grief, what mighty love was there ! Their glances meet, and now are raised in pray'r ; Tho' dreadful seem'd his fate, he could alone Have borne it all uncrushe'd without a groan — But her's unmann'd him ! Oh, what thoughts are now In burning progress passing o'er his brow : His thoughts revert ; he thinks upon the bow'rs Where first they met in joyous wooing hours. The scene returns, when with a husband's pride And lover's passion, first he clasp'd his bride, The world was then in smiles, but now how changed, Misfortune first, now guilt, has all estranged — ; At least imputed guilt, but there is one y^\xQ says he's innocent— her hands upon -5 1 n h'i- h Ill The book of God do tremulously rest,* While to her quiv'rmg lips the book is press'd. A moment's pause — ^her heart is rais'd in pray'r, When, gath'ring strength from what seem'd strong despair, To meet the effort every latent pow'r Is firmly rous'd — she swears — "Through every hour • Of that dread night when Rossiter was slain, I lay awake rack'd with the toothache's pain, And thro' that night my husband from my side Did never go until the morning wide Had grown to day. His could not be the blow That fell'd the victim. He a murderer ? No / Great God of Heaven, no ! Tho' misery came Led by misfortune, on my Henry's name None ever dared to fix the brand of guilt or shame !" The effort overcame her — in a swoon Her woe was buried, to awake too soon. * A poetical license is taken in bringing the wife as witnett for her htteband. * ^ '*- I i^*\ 112 The court was moved — what heart of human mould Could such a scene unpitying behold ? But justice, grave, inflexible and stern. Will not allow e'en pity's hand to turn Her sword away : the trial still goes on ; Opposing lawyers spend their pow'rs upon The doubtful case — next comes the judge's charge, Who states again the evidence at large ; The jury listen, both with mind and ear. Hoping his charge may make the case more clear. ** Tlie footstep? , pocket knife and hidden gold," He thought, " against the pris'ner strongly told ; Then, there's the evidence of pris'ner's wife. Which, if you think it true, must save his life ; But, gentlemen, I fear 'twas love, not truth. That gave the evidence ; therefore her oath I think you must with scrutiny receive, 'Tis yours to credit it, or disbelieve ; So, gentlemen, you may retire, and then Consult with one another — if again Upon mature reflection, there should still A reasonable doubt remain, you wiU * wm human charge, e clear. .Id," told; a ife ; 118 - Then give it for the pris'ner's benefit. Who from the charge of course you must acquit. Ab seen above, most anxiously they tried For many hours, and yet did not decide ; Nine thought that he was guilty, three believed Him innocent, and all the rest deceived. But, wearied now of argumental strife, Tho' wishing much to save the pris'ner's life, At last they yield, tho' long they did sustain Then- opposition— but they think it vain To hope that large majority to gain. And moved by hunger, by confinement press'd, And urged vehemently bj^ all the rest, Against conviction they consent at last — The verdict's given, and the sentence pass'd. His wife's a maniac; and 'tween earth and heav'n His spirit from his form is rudely riven, And to the surgery his corpse is given ! A year has pass'd— and on that bed of death Yon tortur'd wretch is struggling for breath I i f 1 ! 114 Bark ! how he raves— hear — 'hear him wildly tell Of deeds of violence — while fiends of hell He thinks his audience — see his eye-balls glare On some dread object ! — 'while with hideous stare They seem as tho' they'd from their sockets leap To gaze more near, while all his features weep Cold perspiration — terror, madness, guilt Proclaim the harden'd murderer who spilt His blood, for which a guiltless man was doomed, For which his wife's crush'd spirit was entomb'd Within the grave of madness, wild and dread — ' A living body with its spirit dead ! In wild delirium the felon raves — He sees his victims starting from their graves ! ** Oh ! save me from him — ha ! take off his hold ! I cut his throat ! — 'he's coming for his gold ! And Jones was hang'd — the jury thought 'twas Jones That kill'd him ! — ^there ! — see there his bloody bones ! — He's got the knife I cut his name on, and He's putting up a gallows ! In his hand ' [Idly tell I glare lis stare ^ts leap weep fi ioomed, itumb'd read — ' •aves ! lis hold ! [d! ;ht 'twas s bloody 115 He has the rope ! Keep oflf! I will not hang I" And from the bed the raving felon sprpiig — But soon he fell, and writhing, foaming lay — 'Mid groans and curses wild his spirit pass'd away. One of the three who, 'gainst conviction, gave The verdict guilty, heard the murd'rer rave ; He hung his head in deep and dark dismay, And from the dying madman turn'd awav : The verdict guilty on his conscience burns. While to his mind the Court House scene returns ; He sees again that dark connubial woe ; " Not guilty " in a tone full deep and low Eings in his ears, and also that wild tone. When sorrow to despaur had darkly grown, She heav'n invoked, and said, " Tho' misery came Led by misfortune, on my Henry's name None ever dared to fix the brand of guilt or shame !" 'Tis hard that men should be condemn'd to stay From day till night, from night again till day, ' i^ t if Ir :l )• I ff sT Imprison'd in a guarded jury room, • ■ And forced, tho' 'gainst their consciences, to come To one decision : why should it not he Decided hy a full majority *Mong jurors, as 'tis done in Parliament ? The few might then have priv'lege to dissent, As they in councils, congress, senates — then Minorities of hungry jurymen Would not be forced, tho' differing, to agree^ As was the case with our dissenting three. 'Tis true, 'twould not have saved the pris'ner's life, Or from insanity preserved his wife. Bur 'twould have saved the consciences of those Who sacrificed their conscience to repose ! A nation once (it is not now a nation) Sought thus to carry on its legislation, By forcing her aristocratic Diet To be unanimous in every £at ; By which wise law one proud, capricious peer Could veto any bill, unless withheld by fear. 117 One time, it chanced, a law which all but one Wished much to pass, but it could not be done, For one old noble, in despite of all. The bill would always veto or blackball • Then no alternative remain'd but one — To meet without this stubborn peer — 'twas done, They shut the door to keep his lordship out, But he, suspecting what they vera about, Climb'd on the roof, and down the stove-flue went, Into the stove, where he remained close pent, And mark'd their progress, close his prison keep- ing, Till, just at passing, they beheld him peeping, All black and sooty, while with sneering grin He gave his veto — he should then have in His cranium taken, but he look'd about In scornful triumph ; and a sword leep'd out Like lightning from its sheath — it glanced and fell His head fell with it, as historians tell. Thus silenced by this argument, at last The bill of course unanimously pass'd. ^F 118 n mi I; ji i w ' '. I*d recommend om: lawyer legislators, Our couns'lors, judges, pleaders and debaters, To try and change their jury laws, and then A dozen honest, diff'ring jurymen Would not be forced, as now, to choose between - Their conscience and convenience — such has been And is the case — then change the legislation, Although it may be thought a dang'rous innova- tion; And add a clause, if such a law is made ('Tis just and right) that juries should be paid* Paid by the country, like my lord the judge — Yes — tho' forensic gents may whisper "fudge !" We think it hard that all the legal trade. From judge to bailiJff, should so well be paid. And they condemned to spend their means and stay Three weeks, perhaps, at once, and get no pay A I'd ask another change in legislation. That he who in the service of the nation * The change here recommended, in 1840, was made some years ago t This was the author's case in 1839. made some 119 Is forced to cbme as witness for the Crowu And forced unreasonably to come down With all expenses, both for day and night. Should have to this oppression a respite. Why should a man be punish'd in his dimes. As tho' he had himself committed crimes ; Because he saw some poor or angry sinner Once strike a blow or steal a duck for dinner, Or other acta by felon or by fellow : When sober or when tipsy, tight or mellow, With which dame Justice has so oft to cope, And punish with imprisonment or rope. The public should protect the public cause, The public should enforce the public laws. And pay for that protection and enforcement, And give this sentiment a law endorsement, A private citizen who goes to law Thro' pique or for redress, must always draw Upon himself and send with the suppoena The cash to bring into the court arena The witness he requires to prove hia case, Aud yet to say ; the public has the face MM 'I i '! ; i M 1 V 'if V; i' 120 My witnesses must come without it — ^that is They all must work for my protection gratis, Unless they show they've nothing in their coffers, And then I'll dole them out an alms, as paupers." No doubt the fear of this unwise oppression Causes in many cases the suppression Of evidence, that else would be submitted, To reach the bad, or have the good acquitted. The witness can't spare the time and means. And thus the guiltless robs, the guilty screens, A lawyer is another name for rogue — Has been a saying very much in vogue, But this is nothing more than angry spleen, For there have somtimes honest lawyers been ; We recollect an epitaph on one, 'Twas graven on a Scottish churchyard stone, " The Lord works wonders now and thon, Here lies an honest lawyer mon." 'Tis quite amusing, oft, to here and see How well these gentry quarrelling agree : A shrewd old lawyer 'twas who made reply, When by a client asked the reason why 121 That lawyers seem so angry with each other, Yet in a moment link like friend or brother ? *' We lawyers do not always what appears, Resembling much a common pair of shears. Which seem to cut each other; but I ween We only ciU whatever comes between," How seldom one misfortune comes alone, <■■ When losses to embarrassment have grown. To help him stagg'ring on his downward journey Upon him leap a bailiff and attorney ; His creditors* own weight he scarce could bear, And now he's loaded with another pair, Who riot in their hard-wrung legal plunder, Till 'neath their weight he sinks completely under. How selfish is mankind, how hard to feel For woe of others, if it brings us weal ! Wliat cares a conqueror for nations' groans, If he can mount their abdicated thrones — A doctor's sorrow for his friend's disease Is neutralized by pocketing his fees. A patron's loss might often cause despair. If 'twere not that the moui'ner is his heir. 122 ■ 51 ■ i\ Lawyers and bailiffs for distress would foel, If int'rest did not all their bosoms steel ; Like vultures ravenous, and fungi, they Luxuriate and fatten on decay. But lawyers naturally are no worse Than they who 'gainst them often rail and curse, And he who suffers might be nothing kinder If he^ instead of being ground, were grinder. But then a law in justice should be pass'd To stop expense from running up so fast ; That ev'ry legal limb should be ungown'd Who more for costs than ten on twenty pounds Should ever charge — ^that sheriffs never shall Collect for costs but half the principal ; But now just Noticing for trial oft Will sink the piincipal beloiv the cost,-* But the best remedy discovered yet. For all these evils is, keep out of debt. The jail and court-house you above were shown. And from the text a long discourse has grown ; * An improvement has boeu mado of late years, and costs are not now, in many cases, so excessive us they were whyu this was written. 123 The market-house may next your eye command, And now the church between it and the strand, A handsome structure, whose ascending spire Seems in the solar radiance all on fire. There are three other buildings, whence arise Of prayer and praise to heav'n the sacrifice : May gospel truth forever brightly beam Within their walls — the glorious gospel theme Be sounded loud — loud may Hosanas ring In heavenly song to heaven's Eternal King ! Now from these buildings to the left you turn, And see the knightly castle of Dundurn, Built by a bold aspiring speculator, A lawyer, colonel,* yes, and something greater, Who, while McKenzie Navy Island sway'd, Commanded our irregular brigade, Where, bravely brandishing his bloodless rapier, The gallant Speaker won the style. Sir Napier ; • McKenzie copied this about Sir Allan, In his Gazette, when in jail at Rochester, N.Y,, and stated in connection that the author's father, a worthy Irish magistrate of Esquesing, had many years before made him a present of Duane's Law of Nations, which he had with him in prison, although he had at the outbreak lost thousands of volumes, many very costly. 124 Like all who mount aloft on Fortune's wheel, ' He has his foes as well as those who feel Pleased at his rise ; conflicting praise and blame Are blown alike by fluctuating fame, For Rumor, like the constellation Crab, Goes both ways when she's speaking of M'Nab. But this, in justice, must at least be said, His speculations gave mechanics bread, And sent the town most rapidly tJiead. To foster trade that whilom often sank. Some moneyed men have formed a money Bank— The stock subscribed, the thing was put in gear By President, Directors, and Cashier. 'Tis often said that money money makes, 'Tis often true by 'money, money takes Wings to itself and flies beyond the grasp Of its possessor spite of bolt and hasp, 'Tis hard to say which of the two is wiser. Who wastes or worships, prodigal or miser ; Some say that money is the root of evil. To say they lie, tho' true, would be uncivil ; *Tis love of money is the root that brings To evil men, large crops of evil things ; R I 12 But money in legitimate employment, Gives comfort, peace, deliv'rance and enjoyment. It, honest people honestly will use, Dishonesty, dishonestly abuse. He who loves money, making it hm god, Will find his deity a scorj^ion rod, In mangled agony his blood will drip From wounds inflicted by this fearful whip — Most toil for money, many toil for fame. Those to be wealthy, these to get a name ; Let those who'v money use it in the way To make true friends against a coming day. Not till the days of Abram do we read Of money, it was given for a deed. Of Macpela, to buy a vault or cave From Ephron, son of Heth, for Sarah's grave, The next thing bought or sold, (it brought its bariy And blessing to) was nothing less than man. The first recorded purchase was a grave. The second one recorded was a slave.* * It is evident tJiat Abraham bought men with his money before this, but no particular instance is given or the price paid. 3.26 Bought by some merchants on their journey going Down to the land of Egypt, little knowing ; By that sad youth, so wickedly enslaved, Great Pharaoh and the nations would be saved ; That he, for twenty pieces bought, should buy The land of Egypt ; that to him should cry The starving peoples, asking him for bread, And from his well-filled granaries be fed ; That men should cry before him, bow the knee i That he should rule o'er Egypt's chivalry As far as Pharaoh's banner was unfurled, And be the great corn-factor of the world. These twenty pieces, did they buy the corn When Simeon was left, bound and forlorn, Ta'en by the dreamer from among the brothers. Who sent, with well-filled sacks, away the others. I Now to our Bank again — a paper mine — 'Tis mighty Mammon's temple, at whose shrino The gold and silver offerings are paid. And paper pray'rs and promises are made ; The heart and reservoir, which fills and drains The wide extended arteries and veins m Of wholesome trade and bloated speculation, With ebb and flow in constant fluctuation. Sometimes she fills their veins to overflowing, And speculation seems to grandeur growing, To walk in gold and soar on di'mond wings, And scatter 'mong her train the lavish'd wealth of kings ; But oft we see the bloated bubble burst, And all the land with bankruptcy is curst. Some other buildings worthy of my song There are, but they would make my list too long. While houses closely ranged, or scatter'd wide 'Tween town and country, do the scene divide. As usual built in ev'ry varying style, From flueless cabin to the handsome pile, While rolUng waggons and loud-lowing kine. With bark of dog and squeal of hunted swine Caught thieving in some -poorly -closed enclosure That leaves the crop to hazardous exposure. Are heard in distant rumbling, squealing chorus. Brought by the wind that's gently blowing o'er us. ■ l\ I' 128 Upon the mountain's base, beneath our feet, Embow'red in woods you see his rural seat Whose name is given to the town, along Which we have sought to twine the flow'rs of song; Wlien first I saw it, some ten years agone, A scatter'd village then was Hamilton ; It shortly after took a sudden start, And now it stands a brisk commercial mart ; Anticipation looks thro' future years^ — The town is gone — a city then appears, While all her suburb mountain-heights around With castles, villas, and chateaux are crown'd, Where urbine grandeur, wooing nature's charms, Is clasp'd in rural beauty's flow'ry arms, And science plants her Academic bow'rs. While from their midst her classic temple tow'rs. May bright prosperity forever claim Thee — town or city — for her o\m domain, Thy sons forever fraud and vice eschew, Thy maidens modest and thy matrons true. There's nothing in this world so lovely seen As lovely woman clad in virtue's sheen. 129 And if Religion then, with hallow'd light, Shines on her soul, she seems an angel quite, Bright as a sunbeam in a dungeon's light. So look'd fair Eve ere serpent fascination Led her to offer up her first oblation Unto the Serpent, trusting in his lies To make her as a god, profoundly wise. It is not good for man to be alone — Was said by Him who made and fills the throne Of universal empire, and He made Woman for man, his councillor and aid ; And tho' some peevish bachelors may rail And crack their jests, as worthless, old and stale As they themselves — despite their single life. 'Tis good for man to have a virtuous wife His bliss to heighten and his griefs to share, And gild with smiles of joy the brow of care. These thoughts are commonplace and plain — not new — We would such tvives were also common too. Some say that marriage is a lottery. Some say that in our choice we may be free, And other some, 'tis done by destiny. ^ I tl ! I 180 If to the ground a sparrow cannot fall Without His kno vvledge who created all, And ev'ry individual rooted hair That clusters round the forehead dark or fair By Him is number'd — then we may believe That he to each does his companion give. But think how much on marriage may depend, And who can know where these results will end ? See yonder pair before tho altar stand, *Tis Love that calls for Hymen's holy band ; Years pass away, and well the first command — ** Increase and multiply and fill the land " — They have obey'd — a num'rous fam'ly spring. And round the fire they form a smiling ring. Soon, like their parents, they begin to pair With husbands fond and maidens young and fair; " Increase and multiply " is still in force. And they obey it like their sires, of course. Twelve families are now produced from one. And twelve again from these ; when that is done : Thus will they onwa rd till the end of time^ Thro' ev'ry kingdom, country, state and clime, 131 Their fruitful progeny is scattered wide, Increasing with a still increasing tide, — All have descended from that single pair, The bridegroom fond and bride, then young and fair; If to a marriage such results belong, And from one pair such countless numbers throng, Then who would say but Providence or Fate, Not re.ckless chance, did those two lovers mate ? They who're to leave no offspring in their stead Without the pale of destiny may wed By choice or chance, not they whose love gives birth To future races to replenish earth, And, when extinguish 'd are both earth and time, To people heaven with a race sublime, Who shall exist while heav'n itself shall last, Nor die but when eternity be past, Then sure the cause whence such results proceed Must be the work of Providence indeed. For more important than the sparrow's life^ Or numbering hairs, is joining man and wife, Tho' chance is busy with her lottery, And choice will boldly boast that she is free, 132 W I i ij ( t. If still something comes with slow or sudden pace To stop all marriages that don't take place, And circumstances rise, oft strange 'tis true, To bring about all marriages that do, ■ - - I do not wish to blame the gentle sex, I would x'eform them, tho' I would not vex, But some there are who do not gentle seem. Their husband's faults become their daily theme- To him they're pcsvishy sullen, dark and cold, Or never ivarm excepting when they scold. Love hides a multitude of faults — but hate Exposes all, and new ones will create — I own that husbands oft are in the wrong, And well deserve the censure of my song, Who seem resolv'd their happiness to mar, And throw the gauntlet fgr domestic war. When storms of heaven on the earth descend, The safest for the willow is — to bend. And prudent wives, who such disputes would fly, Upon the ground will let the gauntlet lie. And then the storm, so angry, wild and cruel, Will 4ie ^way itself for wt^nt of fuel, 133 A couple once, who loved enough to wed, Soon found that from their dwelling peace had fled ; The matron to a spae-wife went and told How her mad spouse did furiously scold. And then requested some bewitching charm His matrimonial turbulence to calm ; With this the sybil willingly complied, And gave a phial fiU'd with crystal tide — *' The charm you wish does this bright phial hold, And when your spouse begins in rage to scold, Take some of this within your mouth — the while Altho' he frowns, do you be sure to smile, And keep it in your lips till he is done, And soon all will be clear as is the noonday sun." She tried it oft — as oft the charm work'd well, And oft she prais'd the sybil's witching spell. Less and less frequent was the angry jar. And almost ended all domestic war. 'Twas simply this, if for the charm you seek, With this within her lips she could not speak, And could not fiery altercation court, As was her wont before, by sharp retort, t I m If * 7 1 1 1 1 ■ 1 1 |i 134 Pride may reject the moral this would teach, Yet we would recommend the syhil's charm to each ; And if you will your hushand's temper school, Then do it mildly, only when he's cool ; But never war against his follies wage, When tow'ring in the tempest of his rage. For, pride and passion governing alike. He will not listen, he perhaps may strike — Those who act wisely will not court the stroke By scalding words intended to provoke. For if the lion of his temper meet The lioness of yours, the war's complete ; And hrutal words and acts, from hand and tongue, All happiness unto the dogs have flung. You see on marriage I have lectured long ; Some wives, perhaps, won't thank me for my song. And say the subject is beyond my reach — " Get married first, yourself, before you preach !" Paul was not married, yet he gave advice To those who are, that is beyond all price ; But many wives there are who proudly say, ** Who cares for Paul ? My husband I'll obey 135 ft! When he is right — ^that's when I think him so — But when I think him wrong I'll tell him no ! Obey in everything ! No woman's right ? Obey in ev'rything ! I'd rather fight ! Obey in ev'rything ! A husband's slave ! 'Til he or I are inmates of the grave ! Who cares for Paul, or him who had the keys ? He, too, would bring us wives upon our knees ! But in his face the door I'd quickly slam Who'd try to make me say, Lord Abraham I" From ev'ry place we find a pathway leading, With num'rous thoughts on num'rous subjects breeding, But now once more we'll turn Pegasus rein. And come unto our scenery again : Now raise your vision, and while glancing o'er Near where yon sandy rampart meets the shore, Beyond the bay a rising town you view, C'all'd after him who blazed at Waterloo ! Who, tow'ring high on "conquest's crimson wings," Met in full shock the emperor of kings ! vVho sought all thrones to darken and eclipse, And, like the Angel iu the Apocalypse, tmm ■PPM W '■ ii I! til i 186 As an imperial deity to stand With one foot on the sea and one on land, And then to mount a universal throne, And wield the sceptre of the world alone. For years on land he seem'd omnipotent, And kings and nations at his sceptre bent. But when he sought his footsteps to sustain With naval bulwarks on th' unconquer'd main, Britannia hurl'd her bolts athwart the wave, And to i: jean depths his broken bulwarks gave ; And since, on land her thunderbolts of war Have hurl'd him from his high imperial car. And Britain's lion, standing o'er its tomb, Pluck'd from the bird of France his blood-stained laurel plume ! Beyond the square, perhaps a mile or more, Upon a bleak, uncultivated shore. Port Nelson stands, a desolate abortion, • To speculating fools a useful caution ; Some dozen shells and skeletons arose. There fix'd, the embryo town no further goes ; I 137 Ev'n Nelson's name could not its life ensure, Or make it prosper with a site so poor. " Great names to little things are oft applied," To puff a bubble on the glittering tide Of speculation, while the anxious throng In struggling, jostling hurry drive along ; His fortune's made who gains the treasure first- The first has gained it — 'tis a bubble burst ! Beyond Port Nelson, some five miles or more, The village Bronte rises on the shore, A name by Naples to the hero given, When flying France was from the ocean driven ; The title Duke of Bronte— Duke of Thunder ! Was justly giv'n to England's naval wonder. With his last thunderbolt his spirit pass'd. His mightiest, deadliest effort, and his last ; Like him subdued by base Delila's charms, Who lost his glory in her witching arms, Like him in death he struck his deadliest blow, Their spirits pass'd away 'mid triumphs o'er the foe. ii i • 138 One died 'mid crashing columns, gods and bones, While pagan scoffs were drown'd in pagan groans, The other died *mid cannons thund'ring, flashing, Mid spirits flying from their wounds all gashing, 'Mid shouts of vict'ry, groans, and timbers crash- ing, 'Mid blazing ships to broken splinters riven, Wild ocean heUs in fragments hurl'd to heaven ! He, too, had his Dellia, branding shame Eternal on his great, undying name. In mem'ry of the chief, and where he died, Two townships meet on the indented tide. Both Nelton and Trafalgar side by side. Two words that war has given to renown, To trumpet till a mightier trumpet drown Her many voices — when the hero's name Shall perish with the god he worshipp'd. Fame. ll ,t ' 139 NOTES TO HAMILTON. Book I., Line 3. The eye is a Daguerreotype which brings Within the soul all bright created things. The Daguerretype is an instrument invented by M. Daguerre of France, by which the images of objects beau- tifully correct in all their delineations of form and coloring are literally painted by a sunbeam dipped in the hues of heaven, not like the fleeting image of a mirror, but durable as the colors of an Angelo or a Titian. Page 43, Line 9. Like that bright bird in miniature whose song, &c. A humming bird actually came to me while engaged in writing upon the mountain, which of course suggested the idea. ;Book II., Page 82, Line 8. God's brightest, loveliest and last creation. There are some who contend that the laws of light are immutable, and therefore the rainbow must have existed before the deluge ; but if this had been the case, what evidence would it have been to the family of Noah that the world would no more be destroyed by a flood ? As to the immutability of the laws of light, — He who made those laws has most assuredly the power to alter them, and it doubtless was as easy to make the necessary altera- tion to produce a rainbow as to create a sun or a world, or even to overwhelm that world by a deluge. . M ; 14ft Book III., Page 96, 8th line from foot. Those people now appear to think it strange, &c. The morning that I commenced the poem, I remained Bome two or three hours on the top of *ihe mountain, in consequence of which I attracted the attention and curiosity of the inmates of an inn contigious ; they came towards me, and I retired as described in the poem. Book IV., Page 127, 8th line from head. And all the land with bankruptcy is curst. The observations here contained are not intended to apply so mnch to the eflFects of banking here as to the commercial explosions caused by the system in other countries. Page 136, 6th line from foot. " Beyond the Square," &c. — Wellington Square. Same page, 4th line from foot. Port Nelson stands a desolate abortion This and the accompanying lines are not intended so much as a censure upon the individuals, whoever they may be, who attempted to found the village, but to illus- trate the danger attending upon unwise speculations. Page 1;J7, 3rd line from head. '' Great names to little things are oft applied." Some twelve years ago there was a meeting at Streets- ville for the purpose of cutting a road across the country I MHI 141 ^1 from the town of Guelph (which had lately been founded by tlie Canada Land Company) to the town of York, now the City of Toronto, The meeting was attended by the agent of the com- pany, the celebrated Mr. Gait. After the business of the meeting was over (the object of which, by the way, was never accomplished) they dined, and after the cloth had been removed, the author's father, among others, took occasion to address the meeting, when he spoke of the advantages which were then expected to be derived to the Province by the operation of the Canada Land Company. He also took a complimentary notice of the literary talents and reputation of their distinguished guest, and also of his popularity in this country, which was then unbounded, as an instance of which they had begun to call their vil- lages after his name ; and concluded by observing that he had been some time since, jolting by the village of Gait, between Guelph and Dundas Street, in a waggon, accom- panied by some friends, when he composed and repeated to them the following lines, in reference to this subject : Great names to little things are oft applied, And some may call it vanity or pride ; Ev'n be it so — they ne'er can be in fault Who to immortalize their village, call it Gait I And after the applause which this elicited had subsided, Mr. Gait observed "That he was not aware of there having been a poet in company." mm m^. mV ON PERSEVERANCE. *** Nil desperandum — ne'er despair," The darkest night must end in day, Let Perseverance always dare To be successtul, and ihe may. O'er Scotland long misfortune low'red. And still the storifls did fiercely roll. When on & couch lay Scotland's lord,* Her fate hung heavy on his soul. He saw a spider try in vain Eleven times to climb a wall ; Tho' oft it fell, it tried again The twelfth, and then it did not fall. *' Then ne'er despair !" the monarch cried; Eleven times did Scotland turn ♦ Lord Durham, who was in Owen Sound in 1860, was a descendant of The Bruce. The author, who was then Super- intendent of Schools, had the honor of presealing him with a toopj of these lines. • 146 From England's power—but England's pride Was humbled low on Bannockburn. Thus tho* the winds and waves should all In adverse fury round thee rave, Still Persevere — 'tis duty's call, And trust in Providence to save. 147 VEESES €ompotsed upon the Death of the Author's Father, and sung at his Funeral, on the 10th of February, 1833. His spirit now has winged its way To regions of eternal rest, Where beams of unexpiring day Illume the mansions of the blest. He now has join'd yon radiant train That sing Emanuel's lofty praise, Who left His bright, eternal reign. That He might them to glory raise. O matchless boon, divinely grand. Beyond the bounds of human thought ! By no created genius plann'd. By no created genius wrought. But wrought and plann'd by Him who bade This world from gloomy chaos rise. By Him whose high volition madb The lofty fabric of the sMeB. 148 By Him who wore the thorny crown. That we a glorious crown might wear. Who laid His Hfe an oflfering down That we might reign in glory there. grant us, tho' on earth we part, A glorious meeting in the skies, Where griefs no more distract the heart, Beplete with bright eternal Joys. p mm 14?l I STANZAS To the memory of a beloved Sister, who died in the autumn of 1837, at the age of 23, rejoicing in the hope of a glorious immortality beyond death and the grave; and not the least joyous part of her prospect was the hope of meeting her Father, who had gone before. Her form is now laid in its funeral rest, But we may not seek for her spirit there ; The grave is never the home of the blest, It is far beyond the earth and air. She has gone to mingle with kindred minds. Where flow'rs of Eden so brightly bloom. To gather the fruit from its clust'ring vines ; Then why should we mourn for those in the tomb? She was borne by angels on pinions bright, Her father has welcomed his child to the sky, She has gazed on Jehovah's throne of light. And bask'd in the beam of Emanuel's eye. ^pr 160 11 She has quench'd her thirst at the living tide That flows from His throne o'er a diamond strand, And gather'd the fruit that grows by its side, From the tree of life in the spirit land. '-^ Her father has asked her what news from earth, How her mother, her brothers and sisters fare ? She has told him, and oh ! it well were worth A world but to witness their converse there ! 161 LINES Bu^ested while listening one evening in Toronto to the harmony of female roices engaged in sacred song. My Sister, mentioned above, was one of the tuneful number. Though her voice is now hushed on earth, it is heard, no doubt, in higher harmony in heaven 1 Oft when the joys of heav'n we sing, Our fancies take a glorious flight, Our hearts ascend with equal wing Beyond the utmost bounds of night. Up to the throne of God, where all The radiant hosts of heaven combine To do Him homage, as they fall And sing in melody divine The wonders of redeeming love, The glories of the heav'nly worll^ So far below, so far above Our thoughts, howe'er so wide unfurl'd. 152 Hark, how the swelling anthems roll The vast circumference along, Kindling in every heart and soul The glorious ecstacy of song. And millions more of kindred flame Shall join that bright celestial choir, "Who celebrate the glorious name Which all their hearts and songs inspire. 153 STANZAS. I saw thee only once, Thou mayst not remember me, But many a time I've thought, Yes, a thousand times of thee. I shall not say I love thee, That that passion wild and deep. At thy first touch upon its chords Did o'er my bosom sweep. Yet I could wish that if thou art But what thou seem'st to be. That Providence — oh yes — would link My destinies with thee : That thou shoulst be that bosom friend So long, so vainly sought, Whose image Hope and Fancy oft To loveliness have wrought. 154 And then that image they enshrined Within a halo's light, With future happiness and hliss All gloriously bright. But oft the visions of young hearts No more than visions prove — Yet Where's the heart so dead and cold. That would not wish to love. 165 Some years ago the author was at the wedding of a friend in the Township of Toronto, when after having assisted as best man at the ceremony, he recited the following lines, which were prepared for the occasion. If bliss on earth or happiness below Is ever known 'tis when the genial glow Of two fond hearts, with virtuous feeling fraught, In marriage bands unite, when ev'ry thought And wish on earth is to increase the bliss Of those they fondly love — when hearts like these At Hymen's altar blend, when soul with soul In sweet-toned unison, while at the goal, Eespond the ties of duty and of love, While her fond lips so tremulously move. Then all the happiness that man may find, While link'd in closest harmony of mind. Is surely theirs, and they will pass thro' life, 'Mid peaceful pleasures, happy man and wife. 156 TO THE HAMILTON "GARLAND." The following was published some years ago in the peri- odical for which it was written — but the wish contained in the first verse was as vain as such wishes often are. Long may the Garland's pages shine With gems of thought in song divine, While virtue brightly reigns ; Long may it cause the latent fire Of genius to awake the lyre, And sing in lofty strains The charms of virtue and of love. Religion's pow'r all else above. And may they also sing Of Canada's wild scenery, Yet scarcely known in minstrelsy : Their muse on freedom's wing Should also mount, tho' we require, Thank heav'n, no sanguinary lyre, m Mi I* he peri- }DtaiQed n are. if 157 Or bold Marseillaise hymn, To rouse our youth to break in twain The tyrant's heavy galling chain Prom off the fetter 'd limb, Yet we should teach orr youth to prize The Constitution — in your eyes Let her be sacred still ; Guard her, and she will guard our rights 'Gainst tyranny, which with'ring blights All good to nurture ill. ^ u « I* 158 TWO DESCRIPTIONS OF LOVE. The author, and we presume the reader, will perefer the latter. Some Beauties have the pow'r By one bright triumphant glance, With mystic spells to bind the soul In painful, pleasing trance ; With no twilight in their passion, Alternate blaze or gloom, Black despair or ecstacy, Malaria* or perfume. But some have not the pow'r To print the god of love At one bold stroke upon the heart, From which he may not move. • A pestilential vapour. f%. 159 But like the painter's pencelling, Theirs is the work of time, 'Tis after various efforts That the portrait glows sublime. With many a grace, and tender glance, And many a nameless charm, They twine themselves around the heart, And all our pow'rs disarm. And love like this is pure As the bosom it inspires, Love like this is lasting, And bright as vestal fires. » It is founded on esteem. And it brighter beams with years. And when the hearts it warms are cold, 'Twill glow beyond the spheres. I 160 in I THE FAIRY AND THE DEW-DROP. The sunbeams changed to gems of light A dew-drop on a flow'iet bright, A Fairy saw the dazzling prize. Which rivalled elfin beauty's eyes, He touch'd the gem with magic wand, Then took the di'mond in his hand. Which petrified by mystic power, He bore away to elfin bower. Where peerless 'mong the sylphs of light He found his own dear lady sprite, And gave the gem — then snatch'd a kiss, Tho' chid by pouting faery miss. rjmf^ 161 To Lt Oh who can know, but those who feel The bursting sigh^the burning tear— The agonizing gloom of soul, And prospects dred.r, That come like mildew o'er the bloom Of early flow'rs, when all their charms Are sinking down to Beauty's tomb In Spring's young arms. Oh who can know, but those who feel The sorrows of that aching heart, Where Love Hes buried, ne'er to live Or to depart. Yet I forgive thee, but at first. Altho' the feeling might be new, I gave thee all my love with half My anger too. ^ ''^ 162 You think, perchance, you acted right, But 'twas not kind to wound me so, 'Twas you alone who had the pow'r To strike the blow : And when you saw the wound was given, Did you no compunction feel, Did no tender sorrow through Thy bosom steal. To think thou canst not feel for others ? No, I would not ^Tong thee so, I know thou feelest, and for them Thy tears would flow. And canst thou, then, not feel for him Whose heart enshrines the in its core, To whom thou must be dear as life Till life is o'er. And when that life is near its close. My spirit hastening to be free, 'Twill linger on the earth awhile To prap for thee. «p 163 And when that grave is cov'red o'er, If thou perchance shouldst wander near. You'll think of him who loved thee so, And shed a tear. But we shall meet in Imghter worlds, Where griefs nor blighted hopes are known. Well meet in glory, and before Jehovah's throne. And oft we'll heavenly converse hold Of earthly thoughts and passions past. For love like this of mine for thee II. heav'n must last. 164 > H LINES WRITTEN IN A LADY's ALBUM. You ask me, lady, to produce A friendly off'ring from my lyre : When ladies call, who may refuse ? 'Tis they who sweetest strains inspire. Oh could I reach Parnassus' height, Amid my glorious wandering I'd gather flow'rs of peerless light, 'Mid grandeur and beauty's revelling, • CuU'd by a bold aspiring hand, Guided by Fancy's moonlight gleamings, Where sportive sylph and odors bland Commingle in poetic dreaming s ; Where the bless'd spirit of the lyre Moves o'er its chords in bright revealings, Kindling every soul to fire With passionate ecstatic feelings. 165 Ahd lady, when the wreath was won. To thee Fd dedicate the flow'rs, To blossom in thine album fair. An off'ring from the muses' bow'ra. 166 A MORNING BEVERIE. Now Night has flown on ebony wing, And ta'en the west in its journeying, To cover with shroud and canopy The verdant isles of the southern sea. Lovelier far than brightest noon Now morning comes — Apollo's boon ; Sweet music wakes 'mong the silent trees, And floats along on the balmy breeze. While Spring's young offspring sport around, Waked by the morn from rest profound, And the heart is fill'd with buoyant glee At the smile of day's bright infancy. 'Tis like the joy of the mother's breast. When her infant son awakes from rest, And sees on his ciieek the first bright smile, In transport kissing him the while. 167 *Tis the first bright intellectual gleam Of reason's sun — the morning beam, '* Shewing the workings of the soul, As fi'om his eye o'er his cheek it stole. While pure tho' evanescent joy ''" Glow'd in the breast of the infant boy, • • Bright as the beam in the tremulous gem That spangles the slender flow'ret's stem. ' " The sunbeams kiss'd the budding rose, And waked it from its sweet repose, It open'd its leaves on the orb to gaze. And receiv'd those tints which its form displays. Now on it sits the Fairy Queen, '' - Who by poet's eyes alone is seen, A gossamer robe arrays the sprite, 'Tis form'd of the golden beams of light. By hor maidens woven in mystic loom With meteor-shuttle by light o' the moon ; Obsequious maids of honor wait Around their lady potentate, '' m ] I 168 Or gambolling in sportive glee They bound o'er the dew-bespangled lea. Some chase the birds thro' the sunny air, : Some dance on the back of th' tim'rous hare, - And while it starts with panting fright, Loud shouts and laughs each merry sprite. But the Queen has call'd them from their play. And quick as an echo they all obey. The sun had touch'd the pearly dew, And away the liquid amber flew, And as it rose on the morning air. It bore perfume from from the flow'rets fair. /j- # From Verdant vale and vocal hill, Where sunbeamsjdance on the murmuring rill. For the beam only made them gems of light To take them away on its pinions bright. But away in pursuit of the fugitive dew The fairy has sent her retinue, To gather the odor it stole away. When touch'd by the golden beams of day. 169 \.n But along those beams it^soars a(ar, Where^eacb brilliant gem becomes a star, Unseen they float in the azui'e high, *TilljSol has sunk in the western sky. When they gild with clear bespangling light The sable canopy of night, Till darkness flies, when each liquid globo Gomes down to adorn Aurora's robe She spreads upon the lap of Spring, When Love and J.oy are dallying ; Thus in succession, morn and even. They're dew on earth and stars in heaven. But'quick as thought each fairy sprite Has foUow'd the dew to its azure height, They gather the odor in elfin flask. And merrily end their^airy^task, Then fly with speed:.toJheir shining Queen, And dance with glee on the sylvan green, Till lo ! she raises her royal wand. And away they all fly to fairy land. ^m 170 TO A YOUNG FRIEND, , I love that sweet eugaging smile That plays around thy cheek, I love that look so soft and bland That doe^ of virtue speak ; And speaks a mind of innocence. Than di'monds purer far, Like spirits that might dwell within Yon lonely evening star. Thou'rt young, just blossoming amid Life's sweet romantic hours ; Hope bends her rainbow in the skies, And spreads the earth with flow'rs. That rainbow is but shining mist. Those flow'rs will fade away, Yet who would not admire their charms. And love them while they stay ? 171 Bwoet girl, I shall not wish thy sky For ever bright and fair, That wish were vain — for all on earth There's mingled joy and care. But oft from clouds the evening sky Its brightest hues does borrow, And cups of joy are sweetest oft Drain'd fi'om the hand of sorrow. But may you feel if clouds should rise In darkness o'er thy mind, That ncrt to liappiness is this — In grief to he resigneiL 'Mj&y He, whose smile is light and life, That smile bestow on thee, Then thou art gloriously safe. And bright thy destiny. 1 I l\ •!1 172 m ■>\\\ i AN EPIGRAM. That " all is but vanity under the sun,*" Is a maxim as true as ^tis old ; And long as our orb thro' the heavens shall run. So long shall the truth of it hold ; But the proverb'^s true meaning is misunderstood. You suppose it condemns worldly i>leasure. With all that the worldling may value as good, Fame, loveliness, glory and treasure. But the revellers wait till the sun has gone down, *Ere they jom'ney to revel or ball ; So 'tis under the stars that their pleasure is fomid,. Surely this you don't vanity calL 17« TO FANNY. I love the bright and soft blue eye That doth to words of love reply, I love tha lily and the rose That on a maiden's cheek repose ; But more, far more, I Icve to find The fairer lily of the mind. Sweet girl, combined in thee I trace, The lovliness of mind and face. Thy innocence and virtue pure. Which will, when beauty fades, endure, A mystic chain around me cast. And bound my destinies so fast. Unto thy pew'r I must resign Till, Fanny, you submit to mine. IIRI 174 THE SEASONS. TO A LADY FRIEND. Joyful and sweet are the hours of springs And sweet is the songster's warbling, Nature is then as bright as her flow'rs, Empearl'd with dew in the morning hours. So also bright is the summer's bloom, In glory she waves her leafy plume. Loved and welcome is autumn time, Valued for fruits in plenty and prime. Enshrined in frosts is winter wild, liaging, he'o nature's stormy child, Tho' he hears no sonster wad)leing. He has pleasure as well as flow'ry spring, On thee may their choicest blessing flow, Round as the seasons joyous go, Never to bring thee care or woe. 175 THE TIDE OF LOVE. The following poem is dedicated to those who have felt the delicious agony and rapturous wretchedness of Love. Floating down the tide of Love, Steering just as passion pleases, We sail thro' many a rlowery grove, Fann'd by Hope's i>ewitching breezes. Sometimes in a magic lake, Careless if becalm'd or sailing, Hope her strains of joy will wake, Spite of Disappointment's wailing. Hush ! she sings the charms of love, And s])reads her fascinations o'er us, While Beauty's form is seen above, Joining in the thrilling chorus. Now we'll clasp her glowing charms — No ! she's vanish'd like a vision, Vacancy is in our arms. Despair in darkling gloom lias risen, * X 176 Clouding all her brilliant sky. Gardens bright to deserts changing — Where Hope's bright palaces rose high, Gloomy craggy mountains ranging. Fiercely now its currents pour — Now to ice oiu* blood congealing; — Dark the mis'ry of .that hour, Deep the agony of feeling : Anger, Disappointment, Pride, With Love a fearful war are waging, Who the trembling bark may guide While such combatants are raging ; Shall we unto Prudence flee ? Has prudence aught to do with Passion ? As well the world might hope to see Projn'iety cont rolling Fashion ! Oh where is hope ? — I see her light Thro' yon rocky opening gleaming — Avaunt, Despair ! — from Beauty bright The light of Hope again is beaming. 177 — Forward like the arrow's flight Down the headlong torrent dashing, 'Mong rocks just seen by fitful light From electric meteors flashing ! Again Hope's music's in the air, And the horizon is bright'ning — ** Faint heart ne'er won lady fair !" Vanish'd is the storm and lightning. Follow, then — Hope leads the way, Beauty will not fly for ever ; Love will bid her feet to stay, Love and Hope, who would sever ? Love, lA by the 1 i I of Hope, Makes our earth l blooming heaven, But when led by dark Despair, Happiness from heai "^^s is riven. — But what moans that 'ouble tide? 'Tis the stream of love iividing j One is rapid, rough and w. ie. One o'er pearls in chryst 1 gliding ; ^ 178 Bearing many a shallop light, Each with a lady and her lover ; Honey-moon is shining bright, Disappointment's reign is over. — But look down the other stream, Many a shallop there is scatter'd. Lured too far by love's bright dream, Till on sunken breakers shatter'd. Some essay to struggle back, Fearfully with love contending, Ev'ry nerve is on the rack. Agony each fibre bending. Others fi'om their woes to flee Down the headlong torrent rushing, Split on the rock felo-de-se — See, oh see their life-blood gushing : Hope promised fair she'd safely lead Them all to Hymen's bright dominion. But left thorn in despair to bleed, And lied on evanescent pinion. i 111! 179 Thus when we launch on Love's bright tide, Our breasts with hope and ardor glowing, 'Mong bow'rs of bliss we lightly glide, On sorrow not a thought bestowing : Hope's promises we fain believe. Because they are so fairly spoken, She does not willingly deceive — 'Tis want of j)ow'r her word has broken ; And when on earth her word is given, 'Tis often folly to believe her, 'Tis only when she speaks from heaven That truth and pow'r will never leave hen m ([ 180 A ROUNDELAY. A votary of love's and thine Attemps a roundelay In praise of her whose graces shine That will not feel decay. I love to gaze on nature's charms, When Spring 'mid smiles and tears Gives up to Summer's sunny arms The young and smiling years. But tho' she is both bright and fair, She knows not we admire, There is no sympathy of soul, No interchanging fire. Not so whene'er I gaze on thee. And meot that glance of light From eycfS of sparkling brilliancy. That mock the gems of night. f 181 And 'tis not charms of form alono, But brighter charms of mind, Give thee those nameless witcheries That round the feelings wind. For tho* I'm in Love's prison bound, I value more the chain Than all the wealth by av'rice found In India's richest vein. Oh wert thou mine — if gracious Heaven Would grant the precious boon, The brightest planet in the skies Would be our Iloneymoon, ^flP^ m^ 182 II r ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG AND LOVELY CHILD. Vain is a mother's tender care, Vain a mother's warmest prayer, Vain the physician's heaHng pow'r. To save thee, lovely little flow'r ! Vain is its heauty, vain its bloom, It only blossoms for the tomb, She caijie to twine around the heart, And then, like morning gems, depart, Bweet pleasure, like a happy sprite, Play'd around her features bright ; A transcript of its mother's charms, 'Twas infancy in Beauty's ar/;i.9. But now liow changed — that sunken cheel^ Tells the tale we need not speak, While ev'ry throb with kueener smart Is mirror'd in the mother's heart, Till snatch'd from earthly pains and love, It sofirs to bloom iu bow'rs tiboye, «!*-■ - ^ 183 TO DONA JULIA. A contributor to the Hamilton Casket and Garland — The Author's costomary signature was •' Newburn." Who is this sweet poetic " Dame" Seeking through the muse, for fame ? To be a foreign Spanish belle, She sings in English passing well. I like her prose — Love and Komanco Along in solemn sadness dance — Perhaps you think that dance and tvoe Each other's company forego ? So let it be — you may this time Condemn the sense, but spare the rhyme. But to return, I like your style, Your pieces should be put on fyle — If they're a transcript of the mind, I rank thee high 'mong womankind ! — Belle ! did I call thee ? — thou mayst bo A wife — but what is that to me ? li 184 And yet, in truth, I wish I knew, Not that I'd send a hlllct-doux, But all who're climbing manhood's noon On CupliVs side of Honeymoon — Are pleased to meet with ladies fair, Who, uncontroll'd, no fetters wear. Hoping some lovely maid to find With sweet, congenial heart and mind — Form'd by the destinies above To be his constant lady loce. But hold ! these lines perchance may rouse To jealously some happy spouse — Far be it from me that I should raise An angry matrimonial blaze. Adieu! still seek the Muses' power, To wile a leisure, lonely hour ; But worship not the idol Fame — What can she give thee but a name ? But let thy hopes aspire to Heaven, From whence immortal life is given ! To all who seek the glorious prize, Lo ! Mercy bending from the skies, 185 Offers a far more glorious crown Than by an Alexander worn — More fi(lorioiis than the wi'eath of bays The loftiest Poet e'er displays. Adieu ! tho' we may never meet To have a friendly tcte-a-tetCy Yet if you kindly condescend Tho' unknown, to write your unknown friend, 'Twill be a favor which, in turn, May be acknowledgd by " Newburn." «»' m IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) %> J^4. 4is ^ i! 1.0 I.I ■50 ™^^ IIIH^^s - lis lllllio 18 1.25 ■ 1.4 V] V) ' .:} 189 Although by searching, we cannot find out God, j-et this figure may, in a shght degree, ilhistrate the natiu-e of the Genealogy of Jesus. But to return to Adam, God was his father, and it may be said that the earth was his mother, in accord- ance with the common expression our mother earth. As to Eve, who is the mother of all living, the only one who could approximate towards tho relation of mother to her, was Adam himself, so that in this respect he was parent as well as husband. This idei. is not more incongruous than the well known Grecian fable, that Minerva sprang from the head of Jupiter. It is said that Vulcan, the blacksmith god, struck the head of the god of thunder, and of course made a hole in his skull, Minerva leaped out, and she is, therefore, called the daughter of Jupiter. Such a tremendous thump, must have astonished the immorta noddle, and how the hole was healed, the poets have not informed us, or how it was, that Minerva was ready-made for the occasion. As I said at starting, everyone had a father and A l» »i I^i ' iS 190 mother, and it is just as true, that each of those parents had a father and mother, so that each individual had in the second generation four ances- tors, each of those had also a father and mother, which increases 'his ancestors to eight, and as he had two grandfathers and two grandmothers, and the parents of those parents being his great grand parents, it follows, of course, that each individual had four great grandfathers and four great grand- mothers. These had also a father and mother, making for each individual here present, sixteen ancestors in the fourth generation. So that you have now, two parents, four grand parents, eight great grand parents, and sixteen great great grand ones, and as each of these had a father and mother, your ancestors are increased in the fifth generation to thirty-two. And the same rule or law which may be called f^ backward geometrical progression, doubling your '{ 1 progenitors as each receeding generation contin- ues. You are at the sixth remove descended from sixty-four individuals : and as we may, with pro- priety, calculate that there are at the rate of three 191 generations to a century. I have traced your genealogy back in these six generations about 200 years, or to the third year of the protectorate of Cromwell. You having at that time thirty-two four times great grandfathers and as many of the same style of great grandmothers. And adding all of the six generations together, it gives the suna of one hundred and twenty-six persons, from whom you are descended since the time of the Protector, and it is not impi-obable, that some of these ances- toa's may have played an important part in that revolutionary struggle, which gave a scaffold to the perfiduous Charles, and more than a throne to the mighty and magnanimous Cromwell. But we have only yet arrived at the vestibule of our subject. We shall no v take another start backward towards the generations of old, and as the same law of increase still continues, we shall see at wli?*t genealogical results w« are to arrive at in two hundred years more. We have seen that in the sixth generation the Plumber w^as sixty-four, and this, for the seventh fm V 192 'H requires 128, for the eighth 256, for the ninth 512, for the tenth 1,024, for the eleventh 2,048, nnd for the twelfth 4,096. I have now got back among your progenitors 400 years, a little past the middle of the fifteenth century, when Columbus was just entering his teens ; and to the reign of the Sixth Henry of England; and when the father of Luther was in his apprenticeship. When the Montezu- mas reigned unmolested in the halls of Mexico, and science and the Bible had not broken in upon the semi- barbarism of Europe. "VVe are now prepared to start on our third stage, or another two hundred years. The last you will bear in mind ended with the twelfth gene- ration, which I have shown to have consisted of 4,096 persons. The thirteenth, of course, would be double that, or 8,172 ; the fourteenth, 16,384 ; the fifteenth, 32,768 ; the sixteenth, 65,536 ; the seventeenth, 131,072; the eighteenth, 262,144; and gentle hearer what dost thou think of thy progenitors now. And yet you have only got back in the Worlds history six hundred years. To the time of Henry the third, of England, and the 193 jnaugiu*atioii of that wonderful political institu- tion, the English House of Commons. The most august, powerful and influential legis- lative body that has ever existed, and which, except the ]3re8S, has done more than any other human institution to define and defend the prin- ciples of civil liberty and to curb the incroach- ments of royal prerogative and baronial oppression. And it was about this time, the middle of the thirteenth century, tliiit chivalry, what James, in his history, calls the master spii'it of Europe, had reached its culminating point, and was "toppling upon the piniele of its greatness." A wonderful combination of gallantry, benevolence and superstition. The time of the crusades was then approaching, that terrible religious and military convulsion, which precipitated the mailed legions of Europe upon the plains of Palestine, to wrest the old Jerusalem, with the Holy Sepulchre, from the power of the saracen invader, and to extinguish the cresent in the blood of its followers, and as I have already shown, you had each of you tlien '4 il i 1 ■ h': m ii /? ► j "■"•"V^ 'I 19i more than a quarter of a million of ancestors,. No doubt many of them acted, distinguished parts in that memorable struggle, which inaugurated by Peter the Hermit and Pope Urban, continued for more than 150 years and caused the destruction of untold millions. You will remember that in my preceding calcu- lation the number of your forefathers and mothers, was shown to be 262,144. I shall now wade up the stream of time and explore your genealogy 200 years., or six genera- tions mox'e, and as the same fact still exists, before BO often referred to, that each of the above indi- viduals must have had a father and mother, the nineteenth generation must, o| course, have been double the number of the eighteenth, or 524,288 j the twentieth, 1,048,576 ; the twenty-first, 2,097,- 152 ; the twenty-second, 4,194,304 ; the twenty-, third, 8,388,608 ; the twenty-fourth, just double that, or 16,777,216. We are now back to the year 1056, to the midnight of the " dark ages." The most illustrious of the Danish line of Jlnglish kings, Canute the Gre^-t, h^d died jjust I 105 twenty years before, and the Saxon line represented by Edward the Confessor, had been restored. Canute was the first English king who wore a tripple crown. Eeigning over Nor^v-ay, Denmark and Englai^d. Ton years after the time to which om* genealogy has reached, in 106G, Harold, the brave but unfortunate son of Godwin, Earl of Kent, mounted the* English throne, and m the same year William the Conqueror, having slain Harold at the battle of Hastings, established the Norman dynasty. At this time the lower classes throughout Europe were slaves, while the privi- leged few were what their position, education and human nature made them, intolerable tyrants. Then an acre of land in England was worth one shilling, an ox was valued at six shillings, and a man at three pounds. And at this price your ancestors were bought and sold, and glorious Anglo-Saxons. Many who were free themselves sold their own children into foreign slavery, and even sold themselves to some powerful Baron who could give them food, cloth- ing and protection. And now having looked about ^ m !» If). m PI \\r. II 19f> » US a short time, from this ancient stand point, we shall proceed again with our genealogical cal- culations five generations more. We are now you, will recollect, at the twenty- fourth generation,wliich numbered 16,777,216 souls and bodies, whose parents were just wice as many, for each of them had two, making 33^554,432, their parents were 67,108,8(^4, and the next or twenty^seventh generation was 134,217,728 ; the twenty-eighth was 268,435,456, the twenty-ninth 536,870,912. We have now got back not quite one thousand years, or towards the close of the reign of Eng- lands greatest king, the immortal Alfred, and the only English monarch, excepting Canute, who is known in history by the surname of the Great. It seems (says James in his history of chivalry, already quoted) as if the most remote corners of the earth, had made an effoi't at the same moment to produce from the bosom of barbarism and con- fusion, a great and intelligent monarch, an Alfred, a Haroun Alrasched, and a Charlemagne. One in Asia, one on the continent of Europe, and one in the isles of the sea. fc' 11)7 But leaving this subject we wish to draw attt'ii- tion to the fact that wo have arrived at ])y our ^geometrical calculation. That less than one thousand years ago the atoms containing the gorra of your being were contained in the persons of over five hundred millions. This is quite a legiti- mate expansion of the idea contained in the saying of St. Paul, Heb. vii., 10 : That Levi was yet in the loins of Abraham when Melchir "lee met him and received tithes. And now the adding of all the generations of your ancestor- together will show ^hat fyou are, (that is eacli of you) descended from the astounding i\um,ber of one thousand millions ! Startling as is the above calculation, the only causes that could at all have reduced the number were that some of your ancestors married relations, and that dming the progress of ages and revolutions the ramifications of the various lines crossed each other and inter- mingled. But making allowance for all this, unless you are descended from a particular tribe (which you are not) that has been kept a distinct race for the last ten centuries, the nnmber of .1 i '■ i;^ 198 9 ! M your ancestors must have been, one thousand years ago, immeixse indeed, and they have been of all names, sizes and complexions, and characters. And of all ranks, trades and professions, scholars and ignoramuses, philosophers and fools, beggars and lords, princes and peasants, soldiers and sailors, saints and sinners, martyrs and murderers, legitimate and illegitimate, cooks, coopers, coun- cillors, cavaliers and carpenters, butchers, black- smiths, buUys, and builders, saddlers, scavingers, shoeblacks, sowing girls, singers, servants, sur- veyors, tanners, tinkers, tailors, teamsters, trumpeters and teachers, &c., &c., embracing the best and the worst, the highest and the lowest of our race. And what is true in reference to the number and character of your ancestors, is also true of mine, and in a lesser or greater degree of every one in this company, this community, this country, this continent and this planet. We are generally in the habit of thinking in some kind of a vague, dreamy way, that our own individual progenitors were composed of but a few individuals in any one generation, running up H 199 some how or other through past ages to one of the sons of Noah, and mostly it may be, of a few famil}^ names, never thinking of the great and endless number of family names, of individuals, that each of us has absorbed, as will been seen by a slight attention to what is constantly occur- ing. For the sake of illustration I may instance myself, my mother's name was Newburn, so I am the offspring of a Newburn and Stephens. My father's mother was a Corrie, my mother's was a Christian. So that in two generations, I have absorbed the names of Newburn, Christian and Courie in the name Stephens. And each of my grand parents were the offspring of scions of two different families ; then again each of these of two more. Thus you find that unless when they married individuals of the same names as them- selves, as is sometimes the case, the names of the families from whom we are descended will increase in the same geometrical ratio as we have shown that individuals do, in our preceding calculation. One would think that it would be so, if we did ,,. , mt 200 not know that it is not so, that the names and something of the histoiy of om* ancestors would have been handed down for a good many genera- tions ; at least, what was the occupation, the character the size and circumstances of each. But how few there are comparativel}^ except some of the more prominent families, that have any accurate knowledge of these things any further back than perhaps their great grandfather, and many not even that. And some there are like little Toi)sy in Uncle Tom's Cabin, who don't know if they had ever a father and mother or not, and who do not know if they were born, but ** suppose they grow'd." It might surprise or startle some were I to say that I can trace my ancestors through the period of two thousand years, and yet it is the case. I can go back to my great grandfather, and then, skipping over a long hiatus, I begin again at Noah and then I go in a straight line right up to Adam and Eve. I do not feel much disposed, however, to boast of my ancient and illustrious lineage as every one else can go back to Adam as well as I. ! 11 201 I shall notice here, what is rather singular, that the names of only four of the Antediluvian ladies have heen handed down, and they are all very pretty names, Eve, Adah Zilla and Namah. The two last were the wives of Lamech, not our ancestor Lamech, who was the father of Noah, hut one of the descendants of the first born and the first fugitive and vagabond, and the first mur- derer of our race. Having commenced my calcu- lation with individuals of the present generation and carried it back to near the days of Alfred, I shall now begin again with an individual living in the time of Alfred and follow a geometrical expan- sion of his posterity to the present time, or through thirty-one generations. Sui^pose then, we select an individual whom we shall call Elfred, married in the middle of the eighth century, and he has two children, let these two marry in turn, and each have two children, their posterity, will of course, amount to four, these again marry, and in due time, each pair have two children, and by this natural process the descendants of the first pair are doubled in r ^1 ^mm 202 each generation, and let the same process con- tinue till the present time, always supposing that none of them marry relations or any of the descendants of their common parent Elfred, the number of his posterity would amount to one thousand millions, equal to the present inhabitants of all the earth, and this result is reached by attending to the single restriction of Elfred's descendants not marrying any of his descend- ants. For had they married amongst them- selves alone, and each pair had only two of a posterity, they never could have increased at all, for if two, only produce two, the product of one single generation can never be more numerous than the original stock. For example, if Adam and Eve had had but two children, a son and a daughter, who married each other, as the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve were of course obliged to do, (as there was no other choice), and these two had also two, and they married again and had just other two, and if this course continued for ten or ten thou- sand generations, there never could be more than ■■« 203 two individuals of the same generation born, or living. So that if no woman had ever been the mother of more than two children the human race could never have increased. But in the case of Elfred by marrying those who were not of his own posterity, we find that in one thousand years they are numerous enough to people the world. And what would be true of the posterity of Elfred and his wife, would also be true of the posterity of any other pair similarly progressing in their posterity throughout these generations. And supposing that the posterity of each parent, who lived in the days of Alfred, had doubled in each generations^ and they had never married any of his own descendants, that is supposing that this could have been done, to the present time, so that the descendants of each parent had always intermarried with those that are not such descendants. It would have come to this, that each individual now living could claim as his ancestors each individual who lived in the days of Alfred, and each individual then living could have claimed each individual now living, as oue of his posterity, ..f •204 No doubt but the posterity of most individuals of that age have often crossed each other and matrimonially intermingled, which has had the effect of materially diminishing the number of his descendants, and this in proportion to the num- ber or frequency of such reunions. But notwith- standing all this, the descendants of each parent of that age, (excejpting those whose lines have become extinct), must be exceedingly numerous, and these are also the descendants of most all of each parents cotemporaries. So that our ances- Irial lines and ramifications present a "mighty maze," but not without a plan. And if, as some suppose, chance be the great match-maker of the world, children then, of course, are the offspring of marriages of chance. And if this be the case, how many chances to one there were against either you or I, or any one else, now living, ever coming into existence at all. For if chance had made a mischance in the marrying of any of our ancestors, in any of the thousand various lines, the connec- tion between us and Adam, must have been l^i'oken, and we could not h^ve been produced at 205 all. Some of you may perhaps not clearly com- prehend, and refuse to admit the correctness of this, and think the mere stating does not establish it, I shall, therefore, try to illustrate, and it is often the case that illustration is demonstration. Each individual here is, I presume the offspring 01 wedded parents ; the legal offspring of a legal union. Well, then if your father and mother had never been married to each other you never would have come into existence, no matter who else they had married among the many millions of their own or any other country, although they might have hp;d many children, you could not have been one of them. For among all the fathers and mothers in the world none could be your father and mother, but those who are so. If either your father or mother had died without being parents you could have had no existence ; and it is just as true that if they had never been wedded to each other you would have had no being, and much as you may think of yourself, the world would have had to do without you. This being established, it follows, of course, that if either of your grandfathers had married any one else than the one he did, the result would have been the same, one of your grand parents would have been wanting, and in -consequence the line J II mj 206 would have been broken, and it could not have reached to you. * These grand parents had also parents themselves, so you find that in the fourth generation back your existence was depending upon the successful issue of eight distinct court- ships. For if either of these great grand ladies had given either of these great grand men the mitten, as it is called, you could not have been here to have listened to this very interesting lecture. In the fifth generation there were sixteen ladies that were required to be led to the altar by sixteen bridegrooms, anc^ each one by that individual one to whom she was united, for if only one had been wanting, one of the lines would have been broken and the offspring of that one could have no being, and, of course, none of her or hia descendants ; and some of these besides were born and brought up ten thousand miles from the birth place of their husbands, and what a great variety of cir- cumstances and occurrences, and combinations were required to result in these sixteen unions, and in the sixth generation there were no less than thirty-two matches that had to be made, on every one of which your existence was depending; thirty- two papas had to be asked for their daughters, by thirty-two ^njdous lovera. What flirtatious, and i 207 palpitations and anxieties ; what doubts and fears, and billing and cooing, and perplexities troubled and pleased these sixty-four anxious hearts, and what plotting and planning, and scheming and scandalizing were put in requisition by match- making mammas to bring about or prevent these thirty-two marriages ? Some of them, of course, were good and some were bad ; some of them probably runaway matches, and others stay at home matches. Some were perhaps made in England, some in Ireland or Scotland, some in France, some perhaps in Germany. Most, per- haps, consummated at the homes of the brides, but some at Gretna Green. Little thought any of these peremptory papas, who forced their daugh- ters to run away, some two hundred years ago, that by trying to prevent these marriages they were trying to prevent the existence of yourself or your humble servant, and yet that would have been the result had they succeeded. The pro- position I am now establishing, you will remember is this, that if chance be, as some suppose, the great and universal matchmaker of the world, there were a thousand chances to one against you or I or any one else, now living, ever having been born. I have now given you two, and four, and eight, li m ii: T 208 and sixteen, and thirty-two, and sixty-four illus. trations of the truth of this. And I might go on and on almost to infinity, if it wore necessary, to widen the circumference of my demonstration. I once heard a man say that it made no differ- ence who a man married, his children w^ould be all the same, that is, he would have just the same children that he has, no matter w^ho had been their mother. That is, although he had married Mol or Pol, or Biddy or Bell, his own little Billy and Pat and Nell would have been all the same. If this be the case, why is it that distinguished men have distinuished mothers. And does this person suppose that his blue eyed Pat and rosy cheeked Nell would have been the same, only of a different wool and colour, had their mother been a negress or a squaw. According to this theory, Queen Victoria has nothing to do with the indentity of the Princess Koyal, or the Prince of Wales, or any other of her progeny, for the children of Prince Albert would have been the same as they are, that is, in indi- vidual indentity, although he had married the daughter of the king of the Cannibal Islands, instead of the eldest daughter of the royal line of England, and the descendants of a hundred Euro- i 4__ •209 pean kings. To state this hypothesis is to strangle it, bv the rcdiictro ad (ih.surdiitn. As I have introduced the most popular lady now living, as an illustration, it may not be irrele- vant to my subject, to consider some of the many thousand contingences and circumstances, that occurred, without which she could have had no being. ^lost of you have heard or read, that George the Fourth, the eldest son of his father* had, wdiile Prince of Wales, a daughter, the Prin- cess Charlotte, married to Leopold, then a Ger- man Prince, ])ut now King of Belgium, and who it was expected would have occuj)ied the same posi- tion in England, Consort to the Queen, that is now held by his nephew. Prince Albert. In 1817 the Princess Charlotte died, after having given birth to a son, who also died at the same time, with his mother. This event, so sudden and over- whelming, tilled the empire with mourning. Two generations of the royal line, the only grandchild, and only great grandchild of the poor old king cut off at once. In consequence of this national calamity, the only legitima^ grandchild^f King George the Third had i:)erislied, as among his seven sons, the youngest of whom was forty-four, only two were married. If I remember right, neither of them had now a legitimate child. And ir 1 1 i In !: I :'! 210 old Queen Charlotte, the mother, fearing with some reason, that her line might become extinct, pressed upon some of the royal bachelors to marry. The kmg not being compos mentis, knew nothing, of course, of the shock his dynasty had sustained. In consequence of the representation of his mother, and feeling its national importance, Edward, Duke of Kent, and fourth son of the king, aged fifty-two, espoused a German Princess, who became, in due course, the mother of Victoria, our illustrious Queen, whose character as a sov- ereign and a woman, leaves no cause to regret the death of the Princess Charlotte, which, it would seem, was providentially required, in order that another princess, then unborn, might take her place upon the ancestrial throne. And who will say that chance was the match-maker here ? A singular incident happening in a remote age is recorded of the House of Guelph, the family name of the paternal ancestors of the Queen. It seems that at the time alluded to, there were some ten brothers, who were all anxious to preserve and increase the dignity ^ their house, and as the law of primogeniture did not then obtain in that part of Germany, they entered into a mutual compact by which they agreed that only one of them should marry, so that the whole possession of the 211 family might go unbroken to his descendants. They cast lots to decide whose :^hoiild be the privi- lege to marry and perpetuate the line. The rest of the brothers religiously kept their engagement, and none of them ever married. I shall not now pause to make any reflections upon the pride and self-sacrifice that induced them to form, and en- abled them to keep so singular a resolution; but I would ask if the lot to marry had fallen to any other of the ten brothers than the one it did what a difference it would have made among the royal and princely families of Europe ; as none of the 3ons of Guelph, constituting the present line, could have ever lived, so that the existence of England's line of Hanovarian kings and the Queen Victoria, was trembling in the chance com- binations of the lottery. I shall now refer to an ancestress of Victoria, one of the most celebrated, beautiful, interesting and unfortunate ladies of history, I mean Mary Queen of Scots. Henry the Eighth of England, the husband of six wives, and the murderer of three, used all his influence to induce the Government of Scotland to affiance the infant queen to his baby prince, who was afterwards Edward the SiiLth. But Henry was circumvented in this by the King of France, 212 who obtained her hand for his own little boy, the Dauphin. Mary was taken to France to be edu- cated, and in her sixteenth year was married to the prince, who, a short time after, became king, by the death of his father, who was killed in con- sequence of a foolish freak at a tournament given in honor of the marriage of one of his other children. Mary was now Queen of France as well as Queen of Scots ; her husband was a sickly youth (as was also Edward, the other infant canditate for her hand), in a few months the most beautiful woman in Euroj)e was a widow of eighteen. Having no longer a right to the throne of France she left for Scotland, where she married her relative. Lord Darnley, an ignorant, proud, jealous and imperious youth, by whom she had a son, the founder of the British dynasty of Stewart, and who first united the Scottish and English crowns. A short time after, his father. Lord Darnley, was blown up with gunpowder, by Lord Bothwcll, who then carried the Queen away by force or by farce, to one of his own castles and afterward married her. So that she had three husbands. The first an imbi- cile, the second a fool, and the third a murderer and a daring and abandoned ruffian. But this is a little side talk, now the point we are considering. 213 If Mary had not lost her French husband she could not have married a Scotch Lord, and James the Fu'st of England could not, of course, have been born, and none of her numerous descendants could ever have existed, among whom are many of the most noted personages, living or dead, of modern history. Of whom a writer in the Gentle- man's Magazine enumerates the following : Frederick the Great of Prussia, one of his ancestors married a daughter of James the First, Mary Stewart's son, Charles James Fox, "■ The mighty rival of the wondrous three, Whose words were sparks of immortality," is said by this writer to have been a descendant of an illegitimate son of Charles the Second, who was the great grandson of Mary, and who was the father of a good numy of his subjects, as was wittily said, by the witty and equally licentious Duke of l^iickingham. The present Emperor of Russia, whose mother is a daughter of the royal line of Prussia, is also a descendant of Mary. Francis the First of Austria, Had the blood of Mary in his veins, through his mother. His daughter was Mary Antionette, who was also Queen of France, like her renowned ancestor, and like her, lost her head upon the 'f'l i 214 !l i!' scaffold. The granddaughter of this same Fran- cis, was the second wife of Napoleon the Great, Emperor of the French, and mother of the baby King of Rome. So as this writer observes he united in his veins the blood of the Stewarts, the Hapsburgs, and the Bourbons, three of the oldest dynasties of Europe, and he adds, that besides these well-known individuals, a large number of the present sovereigns of Europe are descended from Mary, and among them Queen Vic- toria, who is therefore remotely related to her great antagonist, the Emperor of Russia. So, Mr. President, you see that Constantine and Victoria are cousins, some ten times separ- ated, and also, that this historical array of noted, princely, royal and imperial personages, and potentates were depending for their very existence upon the matrimonial whim of this royal young widow, in selecting young Darnley, from among so many suiters, who were aspiring to the honor of her hand, several of whom occupied or were heirs, to continental thrones. Mary mortally offended her first mother-in-law, by saying, in a girlish boast, that she was the daughter of a hundred kings. The old queen was of a family not used to wearing crowns, and she thought that Mary intended the boast as a re- 215 proacli to her. But whether or not she was the daughter of a hundred kings, she was destined at least to he the mother of a hundred. I proposed in illustration of my suhjeot to con- sider some of the very many circumstances and contingencies that occurred, without which our illustrious monarch could have had no existence, and I have done so in referring to three memor- ahle instances occurring in three distant ages. The death of the Princess Charlotte, the compact and casting of lots of the Guelph brothers, and the widowhood of Mary, and have shown that a different turn to either of those events, would have broken one of the mysterious threads in the woof of life, on which the existence or coming into being of Victoria was depending. And no doubt, if the history of the ancestral conjunctions, of each individual here, were as well known, they would furnish instances illustrating and establishing the the fact, that if chance be the universal match- maker of the world, there were a thousand chances to one, against the chance of any of us coming into existance at all. You have seen from the foregoing, some of the important results that followed the widowhood of Mary Queen of Scots, and the widowerhood of Leopold, the husband of the Pmceas Charlotte, of Ul Wr 216 i;;!!i England, and I would now draw your attention to another young widow who though not herself of a royal line, became the mother of many kings some two thousand years before history had named even the founders of any of the present royal families of Europe, and she stands preemiu' ent among the Gentile women mentioned in the first volume of the Bible, she said to her mother- in-law, '* entreat me not to leave thee, thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God," and the two poor and lonely widows left the land of Moab and came to Bethlehem, little dreaming how the destinies of the world were to be influenced by that journey, and little did Chilion think that by his death his widow was to become so famous in Israel by becoming the wife of his kinsman, Boaz, through w^hom she was to be the mother of David, the shepherd and poet king, and through him the mother of the only king that could never have a successor, because he is to sit upon the throne of his father David forever. If Ruth's first husband had not died she could not have married Boaz nor have given birth to Obed, and if Obed had not been born where would those have been who were afterwards born, his sons ? among whom were so many of the royal line of Israel and Judah, And it may be here observed •217 > that as Buth was descended from Moab, the son of Lot, the nephew of Abraham, it toUows that all the descendants of Eutli were as truly de- scended from Lot as from Abraham, and it is not improbable that mostly all the nations of the earth have the blood of Abraham in their veins. To say nothing of his seven sons by Ketm'a, whose descendants have in all probability been very numerous, as no doubt it was through them, in part at least, the promise was fulfilled, that Abraham should be the father of many nations ; we have the wild man of the desert, the son of Hagar, whose posterity has been exceedingly numerous ; and then there was that profane per- son who for a morsel of meat sold his birthright, and although Edom has long ago ceased to exist as a distinct nation, it is very probable that part of the nation, at least coalesced with other tribes. And then there were the Ten Tribes of Israel carried away by Shalmanezer, King of Assyria, into Halor and Habor and the cities of the East. And there are the Jews, who have been scattered among all nations, less or more,ever since the Baby- lonish captivity, about the year before Christ 588. And although the Jews have been marvelously preserved a distinct race, living among, but not mixing with the nations, yet all who embraced FF'" mm 218 Christianity, of whom there were great raultitudea in the days of the apostles, coalesced necessarily with the Gentile christians, and, of course, lost their Jewish nationality, having become, with the believing Gentiles, the sons of faithful Abraham in a higher sense than they had been before. So that whenever any individual of all these natural deseendtints of Abraham, became united to persons of any other race, their descendants were all the descendants of Abraham, as truly as all the descendants of Ruth were thi'ough her the descendants of her progenitor Lot. And if it were possible for each individual now living to trace his descent through the wide spread ramifi- cations of his ancestral lines, he won' I very prob- ably meet with, in generations near or remote, one or more of the progeny of Abraham. And if there was only one among the many millions from whom each individual is descended, that one would make him a descendant of that gi^eatest of the Patriarchs. In connection with this, I would also refer to an ancestress of Boaz, one of the matri- archs (if I may be allowed to coin a word), and the first widow of history, I mean Tamor, had she not been twice a widow where would have been Pharez and Zarah, from whom descended the principle part of the tribe of Judah, and from 219 the first of whom came Mary the mother of the promised Shiloh, the Saviour of the world. I shall now refer shortly to a people who have for many years been the objects both of sympathy and severity, especially to the Anglo-Saxons ; I mean the negroes, or luople of color, as they prefer being called. The slave trade was a great crime against humanity-, and immense indeed has been the amount of sin and suffering that it has occa- sioned, and yet if it had not been for the slave trade scarcely any of the present colored people in America would have any existence at all. The Africans would not have come to America unless their emigration had been forced by the slave trade. And if they had not left Africa they could not have cohabited, as they have done, with their white masters, and, therefore, none of the present mulatoe^ or mixed races could have been born. And then, among the pure blacks, if none of these had come from Africa perhaps not one in ten thousand of the parents of those now living in America would or could have formed the same matrimonial connections that they did, and there- fore their present posterity could never have, existed and if they consider existence a bless- ing, they owe that blessing to the slave trade. But this does not exonerate the men-stealers from li i 220 their crime, nor free them from its punishment. The four millions of colored people in America are greatly superior to any four millions that can be found in any district in the land of their ancestors. They have now, instead of the barbarous jargons of the native tribes, the only language which, Thackery says, freedom dares to speak. They are acquainted with many of the arts and enjoy many of the comforts of Anglo-Saxon civilization, and instead of being idolators of the most degraded caste they have the knowledge in a lesser or greater degree, erf the true God and Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the world. The dijfference between the now two different races is strikingly shown in the coloured colony of Liberia, where the American freedmen evince their great superiority,, mentally, morally and physically, over their untravelled cousins, and they are no more backward in making the Africans feel that superiority than were their own masters in former times, in asserting their superiority over themselves. It may be, that he who sees all things from the beginning, in permitting Afri- can slavery to exist, intended in his wisdom, that American freedmen should yet be largely instru- mental in civilizing and evangelizing the land of their progenitors. •221 The result of emigration, either forced or volun- tary, always is the production of individuals or races that could not otherwise have been born. To illustrate this, I knew a man who came to Canada from Ireland over fifty years ago, most of his children were born in, and all grew up in Canada. Ten were married and there has been in consequence a very large increase in the third generation. When the individual alluded to, left home, the parents of those who were to be the future wives and husbands of his children, were in five different countries, who in the course of years, from various causes came to Canada. Had it not been for emigration, would or could any of these marriages have taken place, and if not, although they would have taken other mates, and the third generation might have been as numer- ous as now, they could not have been the same. And what is true of these, is also true of the oflf- spring of the millions of emigrants from the old country to the new, or any other country. And none but He who ** appoints the bounds of our habitations" can tell the genealogical results, that have followed and will follow these constant changes. It is not only emigration to foreign countries that hast his effect : every upheaving of society, political or religious, by bringing people 1 222 together who would not otherwise have met, has a Bimilar result, and they often have not only a positive but also a negative effect. What a change there would have been in the personal identity of millions in Christendom had not the bachelor clergy and the spinster nuns of the Church of Eome been forbidden to marry. In referring to the fact stated in the beginning of this lecture, that each of you had in the fifth generation sixteen great great grand parents, I would observe, that although each of these had the same genealogical relation to yourself, yet it does not follow that they were all cotemporaries, or, that all lived at the same time, for some child- ren have a father who is older than one of their grandfathers. For instance, if a man of fifty marries a wife of sixteen, whose father is forty, their children would be in the position mentioned, and if these discrepancies in age were to continue, it would in a few generations, make a great differ- ence in the periods at which the same ancestors, relatively, were living, for instance I knew a child, one of whose great grand fathers, died about the time that another of his great grand fathers was born. Hitherto in this lecture, we have been looking back, now let us look for a moment to the future 223 and iu the light of my former elucidation, let us reflect, that if the world should last for another thousand years, of what a vast number of human beings, each parent now living might be the pro- genitor. People often talk carelessly of the end of the world without considering one feature at least of the vast interests involved. Every thirty years that the end is delayed, adds one thousand mil- lions to the vast aggregate of Adam's race, and the world must continue till all, the germ of whose existence were created in Adam, have been born, and then will the end come. In conclusion I would observe, if Adam had been created fifty years later than he was, the present generation and the world would have been now exactly what they were fifty years ago, and if he had been created fifty years earlier than he was, the world would now be exactly what it will be fifty years hence, and the present generation would have been in the dust, with all their pro- genitors. And it is because the Lord God in his wisdom selected the exact point that He did, in the present cycle of duration, that we now live, move and have our being in the present state, in which each individual is forming a character, the effects of which will be seen and felt forever. 224 3i FUTURO MADE THE CONFIDANT OF FATE. A man reputed wise, Futiiro named, Throughout his wealthy corporation famed For gen'ral virtues, kind he was to all. And also happy till he chanced to fall Into a trance, then came a strange revealing, Within his heart and inner spirit stealing, All dim at first, but soon it clearly came Into his vision. Every living name. In alphabetic order, in the town. On parchment sheets was plainly written down, In crimson letters, and the awful date Of their decease fixed by the hand of Fate, The very hour, the day, the month, the year, When death will come and life will disappear ; With eager, anxious, earnest, fearful gaze. While all his soul was filled with sad amaze, He looked to see, if his own name were there. 'Twas not — he freer breathed, but with what care, He sought the name of relative and friend, To mark the date when each loved life would end. He was a widower, hi.^ .children dead. For them, of course, he felt no anxious dread. 225 Upon hi8 memory each name and date On which the whetcd scythe and hour-pjlass wait, Was photographed. It was a fearful gift The veil of dark futurity to lift. He dare not tell the secret things he knew, He dare not tell, nor give the faintest clew. For if he did, he felt he should be feared. And dreaded as magician wild and weird. Erst he was mostly of a cheerful mood, " Could crack his jokes, and oft his jokes were good," But wit or humour does not cintilate ; Since he was made the confidant of Fate. He walks abroad and meets the reigning belle, Radiant in charms, that bind in beauties spell. And know^s next day will hear her funeral knell. He sees yon mother, full of hope and joy, Gazing with rapture on her only boy, And knows a few short hours that fly so fleet, Will shrowd her idol in his wdnding sheet. He meets a wedded pair, bright shines the sun, They hope a long and joyous course to run. He know^s the marriage moon will see them parted, One dead, and one alive, but broken-hearted. I! 226 His friend, James Rich, is wealthy and well- bred, A lordly mansion echoes to his tread : And proud he is to have his palace praised, As proud as he, who Babylon had raised. He meets Futuro, and with greeting warm ; Accosts and takes him friendly by the arm. " Finished and furnished is my new abode, I want to show it you." Away they strode, Futuro rather dragging, on they wended. And reached the house, and saw together blended, Art, beauty, grandeur, luxury and taste, The combination each apartment graced. No grandeur can be long enjoyed alone, Hence, other eyes, Eich wished to look upon And to admire. It did his pride arouse, He built, hence he was greater than the house. " This place is universally admired, Here I intend to live ; I have retired. I've made enough to keep me many years, And i'll enjoy myself." Futuro hears And knows his feet have touched the fatal goal, That death that night required che worldlings soul ; He bade adieu and turned with sickening sorrow From him, who was to have no wak'ning morrow. 41 227 Bich noted, as farewell Future bade j That face and voice, betrayed that he was sad. And wondered ! Is it possible thought he — • Futuro envious of my destiny, .< Goodhue was blamed, accused, arrested and Fast bound in chains for having done and plan'd 'Twas said, a murder foul, w^ith forethought hate, All thought the evidence would seal his fate. The man was honored and beloved by all. But guilt had o'er him spread her funeral pall ; His friends all fear'd the scaffold w^as his doom, And^very heart was sick with sad'ning gloom, Except Future, though a bosom friend. He show'd no grief, he knew 'twas not the end. No verdict, '* Guilty," would salute his ears. For Goodhue's death weis distant many years. Another friend was sick, his gasping breath Made all believe him at the gates of death, Except Future, who well know his race Vv'^ould run through half a century of space. These things were noted, when all else were sad, Surprised, thoy saw Future calmly glad ; And when they saw no cause for fear or sorrow, Future's face, a jolemn gloom would borrow, M ft! im > IP 1 -1h| 'hi \ 'm 229 A steamboat owner meets him on the quey, '* Good (lay, Futm'o, you I'm glad to see; I've gained the darling object of my wish ; I own and sail the steamer Flying Fish ; Come see, you'll say she is a splendid boat j None better of her class is found afloat. Congratulations he, of course, expected, Surpri:^ed, he sees Fiituro look dejected. Who dare not tell his friend the cause of grief, From which there was no possible relief. He could not say ; I know your on the brink Of that abj^ss from which all mortals shrink. *' Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescribed their present state," Futuro felt it was not bliss to be Excepted from this general decree. It was surmised, then stated, then believed, Futuro had some occult power received, By which to know, when med'cine will not cure, And when to know returning health is sure ; This entertained, they felt mysterious dread, When he appeared or when they heard his tread. Cautious at first, these thoughts and fears were spoken, But soon all laws of secrecy were broken— The popular belief was, he did sell Ilis soul to gain the knowledge to fortel, 229 And then with many, strong the feeling grew, Futuro caused the deaths that he foreknew ; For man is often prone to feel or feign That who foreknows must also fore-ordain ; But to ordain don't spring from to foreknow, Foreknowledge though, from fore-ordain will grow. This, but to state, its truth will plainly show Who fore-ordains must know his own decree, Which he fulfills, and this is destiny. But to foreknow, what he does not control, Leaves free to act, the body, mind and soul Futuro felt his presence caused distress, And troubled those whom he would gladly blesa. Shunned by his kind, he felt ^tuhappy, though He felt its facination — to foreknow, Eaised high his prestage — gave reputed power. The heavens are grandest when the tempests low'r ! Conflicting feelings shake his troubled brain, Shakes and then shatters, and he falls insane ! Bui through his madness comes a sudden gleam, Bo wakes from slumber — It was all a Dream} » ,- M m ' 230 THE FIREMAN'S SONG. Hurrah ! hurrah 3 the firebell rings, And from his bed each fireman springs. Hurrah ! hurrah ! it louder peels, And for his clothes the fireman feels, And does his firecap don. Hurrah ! liurrah ! a sound is higher Heard thi. i ' ^ — 'tis, Fire ! Fire ! A crowd I'ushing on. Hurrah ! hurrah ! the lurid light Far flashes thro' the dark midnight. Hurrah ! hurrah ! the engines drive, And all with straining sinews strive To urge tlie wheels along. Hurrah ! hurrah ! What sight is gladder ? Dashing on, the hook and ladder, Join the rushing throng. Hurrah ! hurrah ! point up the hose j Full fiercely now the torrent flows. Hurrah ! hurrah ! the firemen dash Amon^ the flames, down with a crash ♦ t 281 They pull the burning wall. Hurrah ! hurrah ! the carmen clashmg, With their water puncheons splashing, Clear the road ! do bawl. Hurrah ! hurrah ! each muscle strain ; Upon the sinking fire we gain. Hurrah ! hurrah ! pour in the tide Upon the blackened ruins wide — The danger now is past. Hurrah ! hurrah ! the fireman never Shrinks from duty ; true for ever He is to the last. \'H iT ^;!i^ k HOW PETEE USED THE KEYS OF THE KINGDOM. MATTHEW Xvi, 19. The keys of my kingdom I give unto thee, What you bind upon earth, so in Heav'n shall be : What you loose upon earth, shall in Heav'n be free. These wonderful words, unto Peter, He spoke, Who holds all the universe under His yoke. I ■ f •I"!] ''Si 282 I ! For Peter was first to confess, what all now, As the chief corner stone of salvation avow, That Jesus is Christ and the son of that God, Whose feet on the bounds of the boundless have trod ; Whose life is eternity, and at a glance, Takes in all eternity and all expanse. " I will give thee the keys ;" and when were they given ? And when did they open the Kingdom of Heaven ? Peter first used the keys on the great Penticost,+ When he opened the door, to the first redeemed host ; And he left the door open, that Jews of all times. Who believe in the Lord and repent of their crimes ; And in Christ are baptised for remission of sin. The Kingdom of Heav*n may all enter in. But the Gentiles as yet, have no part in the grace. It is yet only open d to Israel's race ; But a light to the Gentiles, Christ must be as well As the glory and Saviour of old Israel. So Peter, while fasting, fell into a trance,* And sees altogether at one loathsome glance. t Acts ii. * Acts X. 233 im? U All reptiles and beasts, and all foul creeping things, And birds with carnivorous talons and wings. " Peter, slay them and eat, and thine hunger allay," *' Not so, for in this I'd the law disobey ; For all I see there, Moses says are unclean. And such in my mouth, Lord, there never has been ; " What God has made clean, do not thou common call. And straight back to Heaven the Lord took them all. Cornelius has pray'd, and his alms have been given. An angel has come with a message from Heaven ; '* Thy prayers and thine alms are recorded for thee, Now send men to Joppa, and there by the sea»" You'll find Simon Peter, he'll come unto you, And then he will tell what thou ought'st to do,"— Simon Peter has come, and perceives with sur- prise. That men of all nations to life may arise. Who fear the true God and righteousness do. And he speaks now to Gentiles, as first to the Jew, m ■•1 m W !■ T 234 I He tells them of Christ and remission of sins As he preaches, the Gentiles' salvation hegins. The spirit comes down, as they hear of Christ's blood, And they speak with new tongues, and magnify God ; And Peter then saw, he must open the door To those, as he did to the Jews once before. He again used the keys and the gate open flew, It is ever since open to Gentile and Jew ; And at once in accordance with Christ's sacred word. He said : be baptised in the name of the Lord. Thus Peter alone had the right to each race, To open the door of the Kingdom of Grace ; When this had been done, the apostles were all On a level and equal from Peter to Paul. "Christ is your master, and all ye are brothers,! Let none of you then lord it over the others ;" They sit on twelve thrones, no preeminence given, To one more than any, they'r equal in heaven. The Pope says that Peter was prince over all, And he, the successor of Peter, men call. The Vicar of Christ and the Head of the Church, He wields both the spiritual sceptre and birch ; ^Matthew xxiii, 8. 235 s fy ed And he tells us that he is infallibly strong, To fix for all nations the right and the wi'ong. I'll mention some reasons why this cannot be, And ask him some dispute the dogma of Infallibility, aQd treating him as I lu^rd state he would do. ; t Wii-. • ■ r. \i\ \^ ip" 238 It has ever been so, in the^Church and the State, And Ai'my and Navy since earliest date ; King, Captain and Priest, Premier, Bishop and Czar, If you question their rank they are ready for war, And at once you will notice their countenance lower If you dare to resist their legitimate power. And so it is plain neither Peter nor Paul Ever knew that the Lord had set one over all. THE THOUSAND ISLANDS. hun I EXTRACT FROM MY NOTES OF TRAVEL, 1840. July 2nd. — Left Kingston at 2 p.m., had the pleasure of sailing, for the first time, among the Thousand Islands. They present a mgst start- ling and picturesque appearance, varying from the size of a hay-stack to perhaps one hundred acres. Most of them are covered with timber of a stunted growth. The thinness of the soil does not afford nourishment for a lofty forest. The islands are all rock, or else they would not be able to with- stand the force of the current, and many of them 239 le L6 t- would long since have been swept away, if thoy had been made of softer materials. . There ia something spirit atiring in the scene, while the noble Steamer, With fiercely boiling breath and lungs of fire, is accompanying the waters of the majestic St. Lawrence in his zig-zag progress towards his ocean home. The same water that now mirrors the islands as it passes along, had reflected the forests and hills on the shores of Saperior, swept along the shores of Huron, glassed the heavens in St. Clair, rested in calm and raged in storm in Lake Erie, rose in foam from the bottom of Niagara's seem- ingly bottomless abyss, explored the deep caverns of its last great lake, and has now entered and ia rapidly descending on its grand highway to the dark green sea. It would be a curious and interesting calcula- tion that would determine the time that the water requires to pass to the gulf from LaJie Superior, m. llll w d re TO MY LITTLE MARY ELLEN, Let the muses come with song, Let them tripping come aJ^^ong, i ! 240 Let them sing with warb*ling wild. To our little infant child. To our little baby Moll, Mary Ellen we do call ; All the others have their song, And she'd think it were a wrong, If she had no little rhyme, Of her own, for future time ; Some memento from the lyre, Oi her loved and loving sire, Who, when time with her was young. Oft her lullaby had sung. She has now in embryo. Which in future times will grow ; All the organs, great and small, Which to woman's lot may fall. She has got a brain for thought. All so wonderfully wrought By the Master hand, that found Adam's brain in Eden's ground. She has got a heart to feel, Joy or grief, in woe or weal ; Formed by Him, who Eden's pride, Found in Adam's opened side. She has eyes to drink the light, Bevelling in visions bright ; 241 She has got a tongue to tell, Thoughts that in her bosom swelL She has little hands and feet, From the Maker's hand complete ; Every organ, every limb, May she use them all for Him. 11 i MY LITTLE EARNEST. Baby Earnest, little fellow, Youngest of our house thou art« Thou hast all of life before thee, In it thou must play thy part.. i How wilt thou do it ? None can teU ns ; We may never live to know. But we will watch till death shall knell ui All thy progress here below. The wond'rouB change is now commencing ; Babe to boy, and boy to man. Wilt thou in life's journey linger, In the rear, or lead the van 9 - 1 ,i ! I 242 Wilt thou be of temper kindly. Loving all, and winning love ; Or wilt thou follow passion blindly, More of bird of prey than dove. We'll hope the best, and try to cherish. All that virtue can bestow, To make the thorns and darnel perish. And the wheat to harvest grow; So that when the reapers bending Gather sheaves for harvest home. With them thou may'st go ascending Where- the ransomed nations come. TO MY LITTLE EDWARD. Yet a little son and brother, Has been added to our home. And for him I'll write another Simple little rhyming ]X)em. All with love and kindness greet him. Each suggesting some nice name. Which they recommend, to treat him» No two, offering the same* I I 243 Many think names should be given, That in families have run ; Such as marvelled when of Heaven, It was writ, his name is John. When all brothers call for brothers, All their boys just as they spring. Who can tell Tom's Dick from tothers ? And it does confusion bring. Edward Marshall, we shall call him. By this name he will be known. Through each change that may befall him. When in childhood, or full grown. Names from this world reach another, Lazarus is Laz'rus still, Abraham had 'tis clear no other. To the suff'ring infidel. Jesus took the name to heaven. Which the angel gave on earth. To that name no change was given, By the j:esurrection birth. Baby, may that name be cherished. In thy youth and riper age. So that when this world has perished, , Thine may live on heaven's page. ii i < '. ■! '" . -1 m f n I ! 2U TO MY LITTLE HARVY. Thou^rt come dear child with all the claims That childhood always had, We trust it is to bless our home» And make our spirits glad. *Tis eighteen hundred sixty- six, Is thine own natal year, And many a change t'will take to brings The yellow leaf and sear. The present century must pass Over thy head, and then^ All thirty-six years of the next^ To bring three score and ten. And many a change on earth's wide map» Shall war and peace have made, And many a hero to renown. Through fields of blood shall wade I Two thousand millions of our race Shall live and pass away. *Ere nineteen hundred thirty-sii; Brings in its New Year's day. 245 Thou'lt note these changes as they pass, As did thy sires before, Think of what's present and to come, And what has been of yore. But may this great and central truth, Thy heart a,nd spirit bear, 'Twill gild the darkness of events, That God is everywhere. And then thou wilt remember Him, Alike in youth and years, And thou wilt pass to happiness Beyond this vale of tears. m 11 li 115 TO MY LITTLE HEBER. Each chjid belonging to our house. Was once the youngest bom. As ev'ry day was once the last Till its succeeding morn. Dear Heber, thou art now the babe. As all the rest have been. The yellow leaf will come, but now Thy bud is young and green. ! i I in ■K^ I 246 Thy childhood days will pass away Mid childhood hopes and fears, . In grief and joy alternately, In sunshine and in tears. Biographies cannot be writ For any in advan«e, The future will not ope* its page To any human glance. And this is best : for fev*ry day It's evil wiU suffice, Tho' good and evil seem to come As chance may throw the dice. But only seem, " God shapes our ends. Rough hew them as we will," But in accomplishing the work He uses human skill. God works by means, when means will do. By miracle when not. But none can counteract his law By open force or plot. Thy birth is now recorded, when Shall be thy death, and where, And who wiU write thy epitaph, And who thy coffin bear. « 247 What record wilt thou leave behind ? What character will go With thee unto that other land, Which none alive may know ? The solemn secrets of the grave Have always been unknown, Except to those who enter it, And none can ere retm'n. The Son of God alone had pow'r Those secrets to explore, And to return to life again With that dread jom:ney o'er. For those who love him, he has press'd The poison from its sting. And where' 8 thy vict'ry now, grave ! They can in triumph sing. Dear child, with all a parent's love, And with a parent's prayer, We wish that thou may'st reign with those Who crowns of vict'ry wear. That thou may'st be with those who meet Around the throne above. Where plants of God forever bloom, Deep rooted in his love. - mi- mmm 248 I . ON SEEING IN THE DISTANCE A LIGHT IN THE WINDOW OF HOME. Yon lamps that bespangle on high, The glorious azure of night, Shed their radience around on the sky, But I turn to a lowlier light. Yon glimmering lamp, far below The vault of nights luminous dome, Doth its mellowing brilliancy throw. On the humbler heaven of home. The blaze of ambition may lead, The youthful aspirant afar, When nodding plum'd warriors bleed, 'Mid the triumphs and struggles of war 1 He may follow its blaze through the storm, O'er the wide rolling billows of foam ! But its lustre, never can charm Like the peaceful enjoyments of home. Lo ! Byron has donn'd his bright crown, Which he wears, by the fiat of fame, i »• I 249 While the loud trumpet blast of renown, The triumphs of genius proclaim ! He may gather the incense of praise, And through visions of glory may roam, But hark, mid the laurel and bays. He mourns the lost pleasures of home ! ■■,-. fi A LECTURE Delivered before the Mechanics' Institute, at Owen Sound, in 1852, upon the Harmony of Science and Religion. Ladies and Gentlemen, — I have been asked to deliver a lecture this evening upon the Harmony of Science and Religion, and my appearing before you for that purpose is an evidence, at least, that I am convinced that no one who honestly and intelligently studies the works and word of God will find any thing contradictory in the truths they teach. Before I proceed futher it may be as well to define the terms Science and Religion. Science is French, coming from a Latin word to know, and nil — .-i-UHU 260 I I signifies in a general sense, certain knowledge or the comprehension of facts and truths by the mind, and it will apply in its highest and sublimest .-^ense to God himself. His science is perfect. He is omniscient or all-knowing. But it is in reference to man that we are now considering the term. We frequently hear it associated with another word, art. We often hear of the arts and sciences. Now, every one, of course, thinks that these are very fine words and relate to very fine things ; but there are many who have no very distinct idea of what they are and can see no more difference between them than between six and half a dozen. One reason is — authors have not been careful to use these terms with due discrimination and pre- cision. In general an art is what depends on practice whilst science gives the theory or prin- ciples which regulate the art. Science is knowledge ; art is power or skill in the use of knowledge, thus when we speak of the science of music or of agricultm'e, we ought to mean the theory ; and when we speak of the art of music or of agricultm'e, we ought to mean the practical skill as shown in carrying out the theory or principles of these sciences. The term science often means one of the seven liberal branches of 231 !J knowledge, viz : Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, Arith- metic, Geometry, Astronomy and Music. There are other sciences, and particularly twOy of quite modern date, which have attracted of late years a good deal of the world's attention. I mean Geology and Phrenology, of which T shall have occasion to speak more particularly before I close. As I have thus finished my definition of Science, I shall now consider the meaning of the term Re- ligion. This as well as science comes from the Latin through the French to us, and its literal meaning is to hind anew, and if man had never disobeyed, he would not have needed religion ; for if the connection had never been broken between God and man, it would not have been necessary that he should be re-united or re-bound to Him. Religion, according to its ordinary sense, means any system of faith and worship, and in this way, W'O speak of the Christian religion,, the Jews re- ligion, the Hindoo, the Persian, the Mahometan and the Morman religion. And then again, we speak of religions within a religion, as for in- stance — the Catholic religion and the Protestant religion — both claiming to bo Christian religions ; and the latter is again subdivided into ihe Episco- palian, Presbyterian, the Methodist, the Lutheran m ^M :\ ii;:i- Ik 252 i:' I 0.nd the Baptist religion, &c. But in the conneo* tion in which it stands to the subject before us, and its harmony with science, we are to under" stand by the term religion, that grand system contained in that volume purporting to come from the high and lofty one who inhabiteth eternity, and which Las been confirmed by miracle and by the fulfillment of prophecy, and acknowledged by all Christians, to bear upon it the broad, the deep and the eternal impress of inspiration. Religion may and does exist without science, and science without religion. The first teachers of Christianity were not men of science, as it is popularly understood, for science implies learning, and the Apostles were "unlearned and ignorant men." And there have been, and are men of science, who deny the truth of revelation and re^ ligion, and profess to bring the proof to establish that denial from the revelations of science itself. And what it is expected, I should endeavour to show at the present time is, the harmony of the two revelations, science and religion, and to en^ quire if there be any established truths in natural science or in the natural laws, that are in opposi- tion to any facts that af e recorded by the writers of the Old and New Testaments. As to the seven scie^ces enumerated; Gr aar* H^' 253 onneo- )re us, under- Bvstem le from ernity, and by iged by \e deep icience, ^achera as it is irning, norant Qen of nd re- ablish itself, our to of the to en- atural )posi' Writers Logic, Rhetoric, Arithmetic, Geometry, Music and Astronomy, the last is the only one that has ever been supposed to controvert the truths of Revela- tions. As to Grammar, its rules are employed to illustrate and explain, not io controvert the Bible. And as to Logic, which is the science and art of reasoning or the science of proof and argumenta- tive demonstration, it is used most triumphantly by the inspired writers, especially by the apostle of "Tarsus," who has, in his letters, given us master- ly examples of logical argument, showing himself a complete master of the science of proof. As to Rhetoric, we find in the Bible some of its most effective and admired examples. Witness the speech of Judah befoi'e Joseph, the Ruler of Egypt, and Paul before Festus and Agrippa ; the £^t closing with the affecting and memorable words when pleading for the liberty of his youngest brother. Now, therefore, when I come to thy servant my father, and the lad be not with us seeing that his life is bound up with the lad's life. It shall come to pass when he seeeth that tbe lad is not with us, that he will die and thy ser- vants shall bring down the gray hairs of thy ser- vant, my father, with sorrow to the grave. For thy servant became sui'ety for the lad unto my !p m '[ M II L i I < I 521 father, sayiug if I bring him not unto tliee, then I shall bear the blame to my father forever. Now, therefore, I pra}' thee let thy servant abide a bondsman to my lord, and let the lad go up with his brethren. For how shall I go up to my father and the lad be not with me, lest peradventure I see the evil that shall come on my father. And indeed taking the story of Joseph and his brethren as a whole, there is nothing in all history or biography more interesting., excejitiiig the story ofthe Cross. And as to the speech refer- red to of Paul before Agrippa, we all remember the appeal : '' King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets. I know that thou believest." And the response of the king: "Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian." And Paul's magnanimous reply : "I would to God that not only thou but all that hear me this day were not only almost, but altogether such a one, (sucli a Christian) as I am except these bonds." And it is self-evi- dent then that there is nothing in rhetoric opposed to Revelation, As to arithmetic or Geometj.-y there can be noth- ing, of course, in the science of numbers or of magnitude to interfere with or to contradict reve- I m 255 lation. And as to music, or the science of liar- monical sounds, there is music in the heaven of the Bible as well as on earth, but none in hell, and, of course, there is nothing in it tfiat is supposed to interfere with the truths of Eevela- tion. But not so in the opinion of many in the science of astronomy. This word comes from two Greek words, astron, a star, and nomis, a rule, and literally signifies the rule or law of the stars or heavenly bodies, and describes their size and form, and states the principles and laws that regulate the motions of the planetary universe, and is the most sublime of all the sciences. And if the creator of the universe be also the author of Revelation, the laws of the one cannot contradict the truths of the other ; and it must be then, that while the heavens declare the glory of God, that also the testimonies of the Lord are sure, making wise the simple. It was thought by many that astronomy did contradict the scri^Dtures, and therefore its prin- ciples could not be true, so far, especially, as related to the motion of the earth round the sun, and its diurnal or daily motion on its own axis, causing day and night, and the various seasons of the year ; but it has been proved to the satisfaction of all who examine the proof, that the above m 111 n «1^ if t H ■•» jli ipil^p I t.. \ i H^ 256 Rtatements are true, and also it has been clearly shown that they do not contradict the Bible. Copernicus, an eminent Prussian astronomer, born 'in 1472, was the first in modern times to adopt the hypothesis of the Pythagoreans, which made the sun the centre of the system, and the earth to move, as above stated. And he wrote a work entitled " The Revolution of the Celestial Orbs ;" and he kept it by him during the long space of thirty-six years, nearly as long as the impotent man waited for the angel to cure him at the troubled water of the pool, being afraid to publish it on account of its novelty, and being so contrary to the received opinions of the world. But at last by the importunities of his friends he was prevailed upon to publish, the work and it had such an effect upon the old philosopher that when a copy of it was brought to him his anxiety and agitation was such that it caused the bm-sting of a blood vessel and such an effusion of blood that it ended in his death. He may, perhaps have been afraid of the fate that afterwards befell the illustrious Florentine, the inventor of the telescope, and who, one hun- dred years later, revived the system of Copernicus. I mean, of course, Galileo, who in a work pub- lished in 1613, asserted the truth of the views of 257 s. Copernicus and brought forward Bovoral new arguments to confirm tliom. This startled the Jesuits, and he was charged with heresy for maintaining the two propositions. 1st. That the sun is in the centre of the world and immovable by a local motion ; and 2nd, that the earth is not the centre of the world nor immo- vable, but actually moves by a diurnal or daily motion. The first of these was declared to be absurd, false in philosophy, and heretical in reli- gion, being contrary to the express word of God. The second was declared to be as bad and as false as the first, and the Inquisition pronounced sen- tence against both his books and himself, forced him to abjure his errors in the most solemn man- ner, and burnt his *' Dialogue " of his system of the world, and imprisoned himself during the long period of 11) j^ears, more than half as long as Co- pernicus had kept his work from publication, and yet the great astronomer declared privately to his friends that notwithstanding the sentence of tho court and his own recantation, that the earth movL'd still. It was contended by many that the celebrated passage in the 10th of Joshua and 12th verse is opposed to the system of Copernicus, where Joshua as the leader of the army of Israel, diuing the bat- .1 i ih *i M ill 258 tie for the defence of Gibeon, said : ** Sun, stand thou upon Gibeon, and thou moon m the valley of Agilon ; " and the sun stood still, and the moon stayed. Now it has been often justly observed in reference to this, that the Bible was not written to instruct us in astronomy, and things are here spoken of according to their ajjpearance, the same way as in other passages. We read of the going down of the sun, and as in Mark, we read of the two ^larys coming to the Sepulchre at the rising of t!ie sun, and although in the present day all believe that it is the earth that moves instead of the sun, yet we always speak of these things as they appear. The sun setting and the sun rising, but even independent of this, the command given to the sun by Joshua was different from that given to the moon, and it is said by the very learned and talented Dr. Adam Clark that it may be fairly translated, '* Sun, suspend thy influence," so that the language is even philosophically corrected, and the sublime and amazing discoveries of mod- ern astronomers have had the effect of enlarging our knowledge of the siderial or starry universe, and the power of God, without at all interfering with our confidence in His revelation, which de- elai'es that '* Great and marvelous are thy works Lord God Almiglity," and in wisdom has he made M ii 259 them all. We have now hriefly considered the " seven sciences " as they are called, and have found nothing in their rules, principles or laws opposed to Revelation. The scriptures were not given to man to instruct him in the sciences or arts, for man could discern these without the aid of Revelation, and it is true in spiritual as well as in physical things. What man can't do God does, and 'tis as true, He nothing does for man that man can do. The first grand truth that God ha« placed on record is, that in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, and this could never have been known by man unless he had been told. Had Adam been created first, when the world was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep, and had been within hear- ing of the Almighty when he pronounced the first fiat on record, "Let there be light," and had wit- nessed the mighty manifestations of. his power ' l transforming the darkness and disorder of .laos into the glorioashome and empire create iov man who was made in the image of God, he >vould not then have needed to be told tliat God had created the heavens and the earth. He himsolf might have heard the song of the morning f tars, and U; fi ri; M ■■ri ': ^ 260 joined in the chorus of the sons of God when they fihouted for joy, hut he coukl not have known who was his own creator unless he had heen told, for ho could not have rememhered his own creation. It was necessary that either God or one of the sons of God who heheld the work, should tell him that God formed him, and breathed into his nos- trils the breath of life, and ho became a living Boul. But as far as relates to discoveries in the sci- ences and arts, man has been required to exercise his powers because God has given, him a capacity to make these discoveries, and it was necessary that these should be made in order to the obeying the great command given in the infancy of Time, "Subdue the earth," so that it was intended by the Creator, even if man had not fallen from his first estate, that he should be industrious, that he should exercise both his intellectual and physical powers ; and in order to possess comfort and hap- piness in the present state, there must be diligence, there must be exertion ; and this is requiied if for no other reason than to develope the organs of the body and the faculties of the mind. Having thus in a cursory manner passed over the seven sciences ; as we observed belcn-e, we shall jDay some attention, for a short time, to the two to which we i , 261 alliulccl in a former part of this lecture, viz : Plirenolonry and Geology ; and we shall attend to Phrenology first. It comes from two Greek words, phretie, the mind, and h)(/os, a discom'se : so that it literally means a discom'se about minds, or sci- ence of the human mind and its various proper- ties, rjid in this sense may ])e said not to be new. But it is new in the sense in which it is now com- monly applied to the new doctrine of mental phil- osophy founded on a presumed knowledge of the character and intellectual capacity of individuals, by examining the relative size of the various por- tions of the brain, which it is said are each double and distinct mental organs used by the mind in each department of perception, reflection and feel- ing. Until I became acquainted with the new science I was accustomed to think (whenever I thought at all about it) of the brain as a unit that each thought, perception or feeling resided in, and occupied the brain as a whole ; and I presume that this is the view that was generally taken before the brains of Drs. Gall and Si)urzheim set all other brains at work to make discoveries, or to investi- gate or think about the matter. Until then no one knew that there was one particular part of the brain at the top of the spinal marrow, which took charge of the affairs of love ; and it was this !>:^ ill Ij » that kicked up all the fuss about the heart, and sometimes set all the other bumps crazy, while it urged upon them the necessity of getting mar- ried. Nor was it known that there was another little organ just above this, that took charge of all the little children in the world, and called upon the other organs to love and protect them. The first organ I have spoken of is known by the name of Amativeness, and the second, by the long name of Philoprogenitiveness, love of children; and then there is Adhesiveness, who takes the in- terest of friends and friendship under his particu- lar charge, tells the eye to brighten at the sight of a friend, and the hand to give the warm and hearty pressure. And then not far from this is Mr. Combativeness, who fires the eye, knits the brow, clenches the teeth and fist, or grasps the cudgel or the sw^ord, and when he is fairly roused and in league with his neighbor, Destructiveness, they together silence for a time all the other or- gans that will not enlist with them to drive on through carnage, devastation and death. And then there is Mr. Acquisitiveness who is so greedy of filthy lucre, whose living end and 'aim is to acquire property and money, and when he fully shakes oft' the yoke or influence of conscien- tioujsness and benevolence, becomes a cheat, a 208 s so Imis he fien- thief and a robber. And then in the forehead or front of the brain is Causality and Comparison, who claim precedence over all the other organs, and when in healthy vigour can generally, or to a great extent, inforoe their authority, and control all the rest. There are many other organs, each of which has its own department of exertion, but in this place it would be tedious to mention all, and these examples are sufficient for our present pur- pose. Now what is there in the revelation of phrenology opposed to the revelation of the Holy Spirit ? It was thought by some that it savours of materialism, which maintains that the soul of man is not a spiritual existence, and that it is the result of animal or material organization ; and that, therefore, the brain instead of being the organ of the mind is the mind, itself, and conse- quently that man has no spirit that can or will exist without the body, while the scriptures assures us he has. Man could not have originated the idea of his own immortality any more than he could have originated the idea of a God ; so that he must have derived his information concerning these things as well as of his own creation, from one who knew — and here we might a,llow the argument 264 to rest and throw the onus of proof upon those who advocate the doctrine of materialism, and call upon them to show how the human mind could have ohtained the idea of its own immor- tality, unless it had ])een communicated hy Him who created the human mind :— " And whose spirit in our spirit shines, As Bunheams sparkle in a drop of dew." But we shall state further in reference to phren- ology, that we would ask the objector to our views to admit for the sake of argument, that tliere is a spirit in man. Then, connected as it is with his material frame, how could the spirit act or make itself manifest excepting hy the use of man's bodily organs. Because the mind makes use of the eye to see, or the ear to hear, is that any proof that there is no mind ? Or because the organ of causality is used in traceing causes to eifects ; and comparison in discovering analogies ; and veneration, in according respect to whatever is great and good, or conscientiousness, in respect- ing the rights of others ; or ideality in producing the love of what is splendid and beautiful ; or wit in producing the feelings of mirthfulness and fun. Do all or any of these prove that no mind exists ? There are some facts in reference to this subject 2jG5 of spirits making use of human organs to npoak and act, that may be mentioned in this connec- tion. We find in the days of the Messiah on earth that evil spirits, flemons or devils were allowed to take complete possession l^oth of men, momen and children, so much so, that tlie unfor- tunate wretciiofi seemed almost to lose their own identity and all power of will or action ; so com- pletely were they under the power of the demons, that not one of them is described as desiring to be delivered from their evil guests. It was always the devil,^ who spoke, using the tongues of their victims. But there were some of these spirits who had not the power to use the organs either of speaking or hearing, and a man's own spirit could not use them while he was possessed and controled by the evil spirit, consequently he was dumb and deaf, as was the case of the youth spoken of in the ix. of Mark. His father said : Master I have brought unto thee my son which hath a dumb spirit. And the Lord said in dispossessing him : Thou deaf and dumb spirit I charge thee come out of him and enter no more into him. The spiiit was un- willing to obey and was so mischievous that in leaving the boy he rent him sore, doing him all the injury that he could, and left him as dead. And ■ ■' ■a i 'tr ,'\ •! i ill m h 260 wo find that this kind of a devil was more difiiculi to disi^oKscss than common ones, for the disciples could not cast him out, and when asked why, the Lord said : this kind comcth not out hut by prayer and fasting. And there is one thing very wonder- ful and worthy of note: spirits do not require space for existence as bodies do, or, at least, the Fi)ace is very small ; for in one instance we find that seven devils had made their abode in one poor woman, Mary Magdalene; and our Lord also si^eaks of one evil spirit taking with him seven, more wicked than himself and going into a man and dwelling there ; but the most wonderful case of all, is, that of the man who had the legion. Now a legion consists of from three to five thou- sand. In this instance the devils seemed to have a caiDtain over them, for he speaks in the singular number first, after this, all the devils besought Jesus that he would not send them into the deep. 'Thus we have a whole population, of devils, at least two thousand, for there was one for each of the swine, and all residing and carrying on their operations in one poor man. But we must not forget the point to be brought out by this part of our argument, which is this, that spirits other than his own have made use of man's organs in speaking, seeing and hearing, f > Kir gbt bis, of •207 • and of Ills body in acts of miscliic-f aud destruction. And why not then have a fipirit of his own to make use of and control his own members and orphans, aud this must be especially necessary in what we call the hij^hor operations of the mind ; such as reasoning, rellec^on, calculation, &c., in which the leading organs of the brain are ascer- tained to be employed. Above, wo have spoken of evil spirits using man's organs independent of his own will, and we may refer now to a saying of the Lord Jesus, Mark xiii. 11, showing that the good spirit has made use of man's organs also to give utterance to the mind of God. Whatsoever shall be given you in that hour, that speak ye, for it is not ye that speak, but the Holy Spirit. It may be here noticed that although devils can control man when they possess him they cannot control brutes, for could they have done so they would not have allowed the swine to run into the sea and be choked in the waters. Wo are not, in the exposition of our subject, required to prove that man has a spirit, or to prove any other of the doctrines or facts recorded in the scriptures, but only that the discoveries of science or natural laws are in harmony with, or do not contradict 11^ ■i } ! •1: 1.1 ■t vm m ' 1 i ' • 2G8 the Chri.stian scrij^turos, and it is a matter of fact that those individuals who have made themselves most illustrious by their discoveries in natural science, have expressed themselves satisfied that no law of nature or fact in science contradicts the Revelation of the Cliristian's God. As an instance of this we may refer to Mr. George Com]), the celebrated author of the constitution of man, who, after a profound and laborious investigation and exposition of the natural laws in connection with the theory of mind as ])ased upon and illustrated by phrenology, maintains that they are all in harmony with the (hrelopmcuts of llcrclation. But as to those who advocate the doctrine of materialism, supposing that the doctrine should be true, as they themselves will, upon their own showing, have no existence in a future state, they cann ot after death taunt us with the fallacv of our fait h or the baseless foundation of our prin- ciples, And as the only time when such proof as they require can be given is after death, there will be no on(i, according to their hypothesis, to hear the proof or admit the dem.onstration, for thought will be extinct. And while I am on this subject I may observe, that while the advocates of material- ism go to this extreme, there is another school, founded by Dr. Berkley, the celebrated Bisliop of 209 as rill icar ht ;t I ial- )ol, of Cloyn, in Ireland, who taught that there is no material existence at all, and that nothin,^' that we see or feel has any real or suhsttintial i^xistonce, but merely seems to have, like the plxantoms of a dream or a delirium, and that M'e are constituted so that we believe in real existence because only im- pressions are made or ideas are produced upon our minds which se<'m real materia) objects to us. So that a man who takes up an itxe, which is only an idea, and knocks out the hh'd brains of a fellow idea, has an idea rope put round his idea neck, and this ulea murderer is in idcit hanged ! And so a man worknig in a " forest " supposes that he is engaged in chopping and logging and burning real and substantial timber, instead of which he is only engagtid in chopping and logging and bm*ning olf impressions. There is a seminary in the State of New York, and at one time there were among the students a number of Berkleyites at dinner, when one of them was choked by a piece of hot potato sticking in his throat ; all at th(j table, excepting one student, were in a sad s^'ite of excitdnent and consterna- tion, and he was asked why he took it so coolly ; " ! " said he, " There is nothing in his throat luit a hot idea.'' So according to this doctrine, as individuals are nothing but ideas, the poet was r o I! 'I If I I'll ! ^1 :i'» 271) lit- i;illy correct wlicii ho Haul tlio Hchooliiiastcr tnuMod tlio young iden ,- each scholar beiDg only an idea. And if the combined eyidencc of occular, man- ual, auditory and olfactory demonstrations is not Bullicicnt to convince these philosophers of mate- rial existence, it is not a matter of wiry great won- der that Bome will refuse to heliuve in the less tangible evidence of a spirltnal existence. The next and last subject of which I am now to speak is Geology, which comes from two Greek words, ge the earth, and lopos a discourse ; and means litcnillv a discourse about tlie cnrth, and is the doctrine or science of the structure of the (arth, and of Uie substance of which it is com- posed, and tlie relation which they severally bear to each other ; their formation, structure, and position ; and also investigates th(^ successive changes that have taken place in the various or- ganic and inorganic kingdoms of nature. Its con- clusions are formed upon the closest investigation and carefid induction, and prove the world to have existed through untold cycles of duration, where, in the rocks that form the various strata of our earth, these records though not engraved with an iron pen, are written with the finger of God and hiid in these rocks forever. Il*' i : » 271 It liap been tlionpjlit by 8omo tbat these records coiitradicti'd the; record of lievelation in i\w lirHt verse of tlie iirKt cliapttr of its lirst l)ook ; '' In tU^ b( ^nniiin^^ (lod created the heaven and tlie earth," and it haH ))een HUppoKcd l)y those above alhided to, tliat thifi period of bej^ajniiii*^ waB just tive of our (hiys Ix fore that God breathed into the nos- trils of Adam when he became a living soul. But this l)e^inning is not coniined by the lan- guaj^^e abc.i»9 written to any particuhir date, l)ut simply expresses a truth, that it was in the be- ginning God created them, and that theeartli was without form and void, and (larkness was upon the face of the deep. How limg it renuiined in dark- ness and chaos before tlie spirit of God moved upon, or brooded ovr the f;.r'e of the waters, we cannot know, but p'ol(),t!;y sho •. that it was during an immense indeiinite duriition. •» I am not a geolo/^ist, but i hav» read of tlie dis- coveries of geologists, and have m> ■4elf seen Si)mH of the organic remains of which i U'y write, and from what 1 have read 1 am satislieci that nothing that God has wiitten in the rocks con nidicts any- thing that has been written on ])arclin ent by the I'rophets and Apostles of Israel ; au» the very fact that there is not aiivtiiing in the lU le that is contnidicte20th j^age of the Testimony of the Rocks, '* }]y making their false science part of their false religion, they created what was afterwards to prove its weakest and most vulnerable part." '*We absolutel}' know that the course at present pur- sued by enlightened christian missionaries in In- dia, is to l)ring scientitic truth into direct antago- nism with the monstrously false science of tho pretended revelations of Parseeism Braminisra and Buddhism, and that by this means the gene- ral falsity of the systems has been so plainly shown, that it has Ik come a matter of doubt whe- ther a single educated native of any C()nsideral)le ability really believes in them. They seem to have lost tlieir hold on all the nuiids capable of appreciating the weight and force of seientilic evi- dence," au iiii ' Tho' none by name, yet all by sight, Each one he knew full well, And keenly felt each kindly act. And other acts as well. I And most were kind ; a sympathy Was felt by one and all, Our smiling little dummy boy A favorite was with all. Poor little dear ! no idle icord, Against him shall arise. When he with all that lived shall meet The judgment of tlie skies ! Then some mav have the bitter wish. When that dread time has come, ST.") Who used tboir spooeh in sin and pride, That they too had been dumb. He's no more deaf than all the dead, Since he has passed the bourne, And from that land of peace and rest, We would not say return. He now may know what (Icd/ncsa mcnnSy And what 'tis to be mute ; How thoughts are clothed in breathing words^ That each the other suit. i And he may tell in Hi)irit'R speech, To kindred spirits, who May listen when he savs, " On earth No word 1 ever knew," I did not know my parents' name, Mv country, ai^i' or race ; I di«l not know the (iod who maue^ And sHves Ub il»y his grace. 1 did not know that I should die, That I was made of dust ; Nor of a life beyond the sky, Nor of the 'vhristian's trust, If 270 But now 1 know my paronts dear, My brothers, sisters too, Shall have the world where now they live, And be like mc and you. Nov. 30th, 1800. THAT LOVING COUPLE, That l.ovinj:; couple are engapjed, Their promise means a marriage, They often meet in lovinjj; mood, Each has a pleasant carriage. She's pretty and accomplished ; ho Ai)2)reciates her charms. And longs in wedding drapery, To take her to his arms. Of her, some pleasant things are said, And often things unkindly ; Some say he's doing well, and some, To grief bo's going blindly. His girl is brilliant at a ball, And charming at a party, 277 And when she sings and strikes the keys, Applause is warm and hearty. In these she shines, but something more Is needed in a wife, To make a helpmeet good and true. To warm and shine through hfe. First, fear of God, on high Her trusting soul to lift. Then self denial, true and firm. And earnest, geu'rout* thrift. These make the mother, wife and friend, • A link 'tween earth and heaven ; Then happy who deserves such wife, And more, if such be given. THE OFFERING OF ISAAC. Once near a mountain's brow, From dwellings far remote, When Time was younger far than now- Before the Prophet's wrote — A voice was heard in accents low, *Twas auswer'd in a voice of woe, I. i m 278 " My father ! " " Here am I, My son what would'st thou say ? '* ** My father, here's the wood and fire, But Where's the lamb to slay ? " ** My son, the Lord himself will bring A lamb for a burnt offering," Thus to his only son, i The sire of nations spoke ; To Isaac the beloved one — Nor soon the silence broke. For God commanded him to bring His son for a burnt offering. He builds an altar there. The wood is on it piled j Isaac is bound, his breast is bare ! Above his only child, The father rears his deadly blade ; But e're it sinks, his arm is stayed ! For "Abram, Abram," loud, A voice from Heaven calls. From out the bright augelio crowd- Unstained the weapon falls,— " Lay not upon the lad thy hand ! " Qk ! there was joy in th^t command, 279 Because thou hast ohey'd. And not withheld thy son, But him a ready offering made, 1 by myself have sworn : In blessing thou shalt blessed be, And all the world be blessed in thee. When years had glided by, Another Isaac came, Upon that very mount to die — And he indeed was slain ! No voice from heaven stayed the dart That pierced Messiah's bleeding heart ! I i i • THE CONVERSION OF SAUL. ■ Saul, the furious chief who led The persecuting bands, Against the hated Nazarenes, At home and foreign lands. Had helped to strike with mad'ning zeal. The holy Stephen down ; The first of all Messiah's flock. To gain the martyr's crown. < I II ^" IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 4is 1.0 I.I 1.25 am e lU £ US B2.0 ^1^ V] ^ -V '/ a Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 33 VVE< . MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.v. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^> 280 i > +! ii 1 i t 'Twas Abel led the ancient line Of martyrs for their God ; The son of Barachias last, That honor'd way had trod. Until the voice of him who cried : ** The reign of Heav'n is near," Was silenced by the headsman's axe ; In Herod's dungeon drear. And next, his Royal Master falls ; They kill the Prince of Life ; But 'gainst the pow'r of death and hell, He's victor in the strife. He leaves the grave. He leaves the earth, Ascends His Father's throne ! 'Twas He who in His mighty pow'r, The winepress trod alone ! He gave commission to the twelve ; The twelve obey their Lord ; And first to Israel's favor'd race, They preach the sacred word. The hate that took the Saviour's life. Now on his people fall ; — Resolved to extirpate the sect. Led by the madden'd Saul. 281 The human tigers tasted blood ! And nought but blood could sate The terrible intensity, Of that fierce burning hate ! Saul sack'd the dwellings of the saints, Imprison'd, beat and slew ; And then to other cities went, His victims to pursue. With High Priest's mandate in his hand, He nears Damascus town, But Jesus met him ; at the sight. Behold him stricken down ! Christ spoke in Hebrew ; twice he called His vanquished foe by name ; That voice and visage did the work ; The tiger's heart grew tame, *' Who art thou, Lord ?" " I Jesus am. Whom thou dost persecute." " Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ? " He said, and then was mute. G'^ to the city, and when there. My will you'll understand ; He went, all blind and powerless, Led trembling by the hand. r, 282 0, who can tell the wond'rous thoughts, That through his bosom pass'd In those three days of anxious pray'r, That solemn, sacred fast ! But now good Ananias comes, Light both to eye and mind, By touch and voice were given him. For both of these were blind. " Thou art a chosen vessel now. The saviour bids me say ; To bear his name to many lands, And now why dost thou stay ? Arise and be baptised, and wash Away thy many sins. Born of the spirit and the wave, Thy life in Christ begins." Thus Ananias speaks to Saul ; Behold him meekly bow ; Love and the spirit fill his soul, And mould his being now. And 'tis his being's end and aim. His soul's supr3me desire ; His great and all absorbing work, Of which he cannot tire ; 288 <' ^1 To tell the world that Christ had died. And all his pow'rs employ 'd, To build up that one glorious faith That once he had destroyed. NIAGARA FALLS. My first visit to this greatest wonder of the Western World was in 1837, when I wrote the following in the album kept at the saloon above the spiral staircase : THE ORIGIN OF THE FALLS. Once upon a time, the date of which is not recorded, the three rival deities, Jupiter, Pluto and Neptune, striving to excel each other in the work of creation ; Jupiter built Olympus to frighten the world with his thunder ; Pluto built and set fire to Mount iEtna, and Neptune, with a dash of his trident, made the cataract of Niagara. At a subsequent visit I wrote : If lovers' leaps were now the fashion, As they were in days of yore. what a place to drown the passion In Niagara's foaming roar. Both of the above, I was informed, w re copied in. a book of extracts, compiled and published as taken from the Niagara Falls Album. H; 'I ■' ■! i ■ — ■-- --^■e:?^— -^^^B" 284 TO MY WIFE. i ' Full twenty summers, twenty winters too, Have come and stay'd, and gone away since you And I together stood, with hand in hand. While round us was entwined the marriage band, Since then we've lived together, and the troth That day we plighted has been kept by both. I think that we might claim the marriage laurel. In twenty years we've had no scold or quarrel. Before our marriage I had read a letter To one just joined to other half, the better, 'Twas from an ancient friend, both old and wise, Who gave this sage and excellent advice. He said : " Beware of quarrel number one, For quarrel two can't come if this be done." And I resolved that no beginning strife Should ever rise between us, my dear wife. I from this resolution did not vary. And I was helped to keep it by you, Mary ; And my sure trust is, till our glass is run, We'll never have the quarrel number one. 285 ' ?il THE WEATHER. The weather is cold, The weather is warm. The weather is calm. The weather's in storm. The weather is rough. The weather is mild. The weather is pleasant. The weather is wild. The weather is coarse. The weather is fine. The weather is harsh. The weather's benign. The weather is rainy. The weather is snowy. The weather is still, The weather is blowy. The weather is fearful. The weather's delightful. 3 ' 1 ; Jf ■ r ?'! I 286 The weather is pleasant. The weather is frightful. The weather is gloomy, The weather is splendid. The weather is had, The weather is mended. The weather is foul, The weather is clear, The whither is balmy, The weather's severe. The weather is grand, The weather is mean, The weather is fitful, The weather's serene. The weather is steady, The weather is boist'rous, The weather is peaceful, The weather is roist'rous. It takes all these adjectives, All put together. To tell what the people All think of the v^eather. I i 287 MB. TIPPLE -NONE. Mr. Tipple-a-little, Tipple-more, And Mr. Tipple-none Began to talk together once. Thus did their language run : Said Tipple -a -little to Tipple-none, ^* My dearest sir, I think *Tis wrong to banish from the lan(J All but teetotal drink. ** Because a little spirits good When'er the flesh is weak, $ut then, to drink too much is wrong, 'Tis not for that I speak. *' But when o.ne's wet, or when one*s c?r^» Or when one's cold, or when One's not exactly one of these, I like a little then." ^* That's just the thing," quoth Tipple-mucbj, Rising from where be sat, And trying to balance as he walked, '' Thg^t's right, I'll stick ta that [ li 'l\\ ' i U! ii iJ 288 " But then, to drink too much, why that, "Why that I would despise." " That's right, that's right ;" quoth Tipple-more, Who look'd more drunk than wise. '* That's just the talk I like,*' quoth he, *' Come, brother, join our band. We'll take another glass on that," And seized him by the hand. With blood-shot eyes and ragged clothes. Came then poor Tipple -all. To join his brothers at the bar. And for the liquor call. *' Is Tipple-a-little then your friend ? " Good Tipple-none replied ; /* You see how all these Tipples range Themselves upon your side." *Tis right they should, for one by one, From grade to grade you fall, Thus Tipple-a-little, comes at last. To be poor Tipple-all. Yet each approves your arguments ; All say, " Don't drink too much ;" And every lane in Drunkendom Is crowded full of such, 289 So let me caution all of you, And counsel every one, To take the only way that's safe, And that is Tipple -none. THE DEATH OP AAEON, The death of Aaron, on Mount Hor, as recorded in the twentieth chapter of Numbers, has never been excelled in mournful sublimity, excepting by the death of him who was made a High Priest after the order of Melchisidek. The author had intended to turn the description of the death of Aaron into rhyme, and in the Fall of 1848 having, when some twelve miles from home, lost his way M night, in the woods of the Township of Caledon with the prospect of not getting home till morning, to occupy his mind he commenced the following verses, which were prevented from being finished at the time by his getting out of the woods through the assistance of some late travellers, ^ho were passing near on horseback. Who are those venerable men, With solemn steps and slow, Advancing t'ward yon mountain top. With visages of woe. W )\ i < I r. ! ' I I 290 The one is Israel's prophet — one Is God*s anointed priest, Condemned to lose his robes and die — His ministry has ceased^ *Tis Gk)d who passed the sentence, and His garments one by one, Are taken by his brother's hand. And placed upon his son.^ The mitre and the girdle too, All curious to behold. The ephod and the breastplate, ali So rich with gems and gold. He is disrobed of all^ and then In sight of Israel's host. Their first high priest sinks prostrate dawu And yields th' unwilling ghost, In all the strength of intellect, In venerable prime ! Because he disobeyed — no less. Could expiate his crime. ^291 DEATH OF MOSES- Who is that venerable man In years and wisdom grown. Advancing up yon mountain top, All singly and alone. With eye imdimmed he looks around On yonder goodly land, Whilst at the mountain's base is seem The Jordan's winding strand. ■'Twas he, some forty years agone, "Wilh Aaron's living rod. Had hurl'd on Egypt's haughty land The vengance of his God. 'Twas he who stay'd on Sinai's top With Israel's God alone; Who gave to him the holy law, His finger graved on stone. *Twas he who late on Hor's dread mount Had seen his brother die And now he stands on Nebo's top. But has no brother nigh. I ( 29'Z ! i For he, at thirsty Miraba, With Aaroii, disobey'd, And now must die, tho* for reprieve' All earnestly be pray'd. Once when a babe, a* princess save^ Him from the drowning wave ; Now God's own hand has given him An unknown,, lonely gra/ve. No man knew where, but Satan knew^ And seized him- in that hour, " The Lord rebuke thee," Michgkel said, And broke his hellish pow'r. The Lord rebuked him, and no more To Moses' grave he catne; The haughty fiend abash'd drew back At that Elternal name. AN EPIGEAM. They quatrreFd loud and long,. And the quarrel is not done^ All but themselves admit It was foolishly begun^ 293 They calFd each other names, Which their parents never gave, They bandied such as these : Liar, scoundral, cheat and knave. Each said his case was jtist, In this they'r wrong and quite. Each said the other lied, And in this they both were right. t ;! W' t . THIRTY DAYS HATH SEPTEMBER. The author of this immortal doggerel, I pre- sume, has long been unknown, although every- body has it by heart, and everybody uses it every now and then, because it is something that the world cannot do without, but I cannot see why the calender should have been so arranged as to require it. Why not have given 31 days each to the first five months, January, February, March, April and May, which would make 155 days, and 30 each to the other seven, which would make up the 3(35, and then for leap year give June, the sixth month, 31, which would make 366. This would have simpli- I P' H i i tk 29^ Sed the matter so as to require scarcely any effort of memory to retain the number of days for each month. The rhyme then might be reduced to a single couplet ; Last seven have thirty, first five, thirty-one, But in leap-year bright June has another day's run. III NAMES AND ORDER OF THE BOOKS IN THE OLD TESTAMENT. Having observed that many have difficulty in finding passages referred to in the books of the Old Testament, from not knowing the order in which the books occur, I have, to assist such, put the list in rhyme, which, if committed to memory, will obviate the diffiiculty. Genesis and Exodus, Leviticus in truth. Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Ruth, Then First and Second Samuel, and First and Second Kings, And First and Second Chronicles, in order Ezra brings; ' - ■ ■■■. 295 Then Nehemiah, Esther, Job, brings the Psalms along, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes and Solomon's sweet song, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations follow then, Ezekiel and Daniel and Hosea, holy men ; Next Joel then, and Amos, and the prophet Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahiim, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi, the last. And no more the spirit speaks till the Jewish age is past. S J'' ' (3 THE CEEATION. The following was written by request, for Sunday School Scholars to commit to memory. In the beginning God created all The heavens and the earth — the mm-ky pall Of darkness covers them — " Let there be light," At once it flashed through dark primeval night. And let there be a firmament, to keep Waters from waters, vapour from the deep — A firmament there was, God called it Heave i ; This closed the day, 'twas second of the seven. ft I I. 1- ; i; i; ill m lan 296 Let seas be gathered ; let the land appear ; Let herbage clothe the land; the forests rear Their leafy summits : At Jehovah's word *Twas so — 'twas done ; this ended day the third. Let there be lights in the expanse of heaven — At once two lights unto the earth were given ; The night and day all brightly ruling o'er, And then closed in the evening number four. Let waters bring forth swarms of living things ; Let birds fly through the air on buoyant wings : With these the air and seas are now alive — This ends the day that then was numbered ^re. Let earth bring forth the living beasts, and all Of every kind, that run, or creep, or crawl — The earth obeyed. To finish then, his plan, In his own image, God created man. To rule the earth, the beasts, the fish, the birds. "Eule and subdue, and multiply" — these words By God were said, man's destiny to fix — God's work is done — the day was numbered six. God rested then upon his throne in Heaven ; He blespsd the day, and it was numbered seven; The Sabbath thus was made, and made for man — Prepared for him, before his toil began. 297 THE LOVE OF ALCESTUS. Admetus, king of Cicily, was told That when his name was with the dead enroU'd, The Fates would let him live, if he could find Some one to ta^ke his place and die resigned. The fated time arrived, Admetus sought To find a substitute, none could be bought ; All fond of life, and all afraid xti death, To save his king, no friend would yield his breath — Perhaps a parent, both mere old and frail, To save a son will enter death's dark vale — They cling to life as miser does to gold. Not less because theirs is a feeble hold. With sad dismay did doom'd Admetus wait The fixed and fearful moment of his fate. But see Alcestus, his beloved Queen, (Love conquers all) with calm and royal mien, To save her lord, gives up her own young life, All honor to the name of this true wife. Fav'ring fortune, at this time did bring Hercules to see his friend, the king ; i III It'll 'h mm^ mmm 298 The champion saw the sorrow of the state, That sadly mourned the queen's untimely fate. He learned the cause and vowed *' I back will bring This martyr to her people and her king ;" He went unto her tomb, and met with death, He seized and forced him to give back her breath. Brought her in triumph to her royal home. The wond'ring people greet them as they come. Now past and gone is all dispair and sadness, Eeplaced by hope, by gratitude and gladness. And who can hear without a deep emotion, The story of this wife's intense devotion, " Who leaves a name to come to future times. Linked with one glorious virtue," and no crimes. ON THE DEATH OF MR. McKEEVER, AN EMINENT PREACHER OF PLEASANT HILL, PENN. Thou art gone from this world to the world of the dead. To the bosom of Abram the angels have led Thy spirit, all ripe for the glorious rest Prepared by the Lord as a home for the blest. Abel, the right'ous, was first to essay. By the guidance of angels, the wonderful way 111 u . I 299 That so oft has heen trodden hy saints of the Lord, Who died in the faith of His glorious word. We mourn thy departure, so sudden, so soon, Before thy hright day had scarce risen to noon ; We naust bow to His will, who in manhood's young prime, Has summoned our brother to heaven's blest clime. We can scarce realize it, that hushed is that voice. That bade sinners tremble and christians rejoice, That the face so familiar, the teacher so loved, Has been from his people for ever removed — That the mind so replete with the choicest of lore, Will pour out its streams of refreshing no more, That the heart so benignant, so faithful, so kind, In the grave, in the darkness of death is confined. We mourn, but our sorrow is gilded by hope, We're not left like the heathen, in darkness to grope. We know they who slumber in Jesus he'll bring, All crowned and enthroned with their glorious King* Let us follow their way, as the holy word saith, Who inherit the promise through patience and faith. That minist'ring spirits may lend us their hand To leeid from the grave to the heavenly land, :«y is, I!!' t :'■ m if 'Si f I i I 300 QUEEN'S BIRTH-DAY EXCUBSION. As I have my pen and paper, I will make a little song, To tell about this pleasure trip, just as we go along ; It is a pleasant day, as many there have been, And 'tis the nation's holiday, the birth-day of the Queen. The people old and older, the young and younger too. Came crowding down along the wharf, and many **a how d'ye do " 'Tween friends and neighbours were exchanged ; from youths and maidens fair. All seeking health and happiness out in the breezy air. The time was 2 p.m., the people had their food, To fast upon a pleasure trip most people think not good, We sailed along the river, the river joins the bay, And pleasant is the scenery on such a pleasant 801 The belles and beaux are always here on such a time as this, Who hope their single blessedness to change for double bliss ; Now on the east is poor Cape Rich, on west Cape Commodore, Twelve miles apart if measured by a line from shore to shore ; These form the lipa of our good bay, its mouth lies in between, And on each side the forest towers in early vernal green. See now, we round Cape Commodore, while all upon the right Are Griffith's, Bay, and White Cloud Isles, and all at once in sight ; We're now in Colpoy's lovely Bay, a charming sheet of water ; We came pursuing pleasure here, and all no doubt have caught her ; Some keep her in their heart and eyes, some put her in their slippers. As to the fiddle's hvely tunes they nimbly lift their skippers. It :f I I i ■■■ j i f V ; i 1'^ J H i i 302 Now start for home, the wheel has turned our gallant ship about, We're once more in our own good bay, from Col- poy's we've come out ; And now I wish you all good friends a happy time at tea, And many a happy birthday trip upon our mimio sea. THE PBINCE IS COMING. ON THE VISIT OF THE PRINCE OP WALES TO CANADA, SEPTEMBER, 1850. The Prince is coming, yes, the Prince of Wales, Heir to Lewellyn's ancient hills and vales. Long may he be a prince— may years have flown Before he sits upon his mother's throne. The Prince is coming, and with him he bears A mother's and a nation's hopes and prayers ; Since Wolfe, when dying, broke the Gallic lance, And to the British sceptre gave new France. No heir apparent of the royal line ' - Has ever crossed the wide Atlantic brine ; 803 No Prince of Wales, or since it, or before. Has ever trod or seen its western shore , 'Twill be an era in historic tales. This, the first visit of a Prince of Wales ; And it will be, with memories ever rife. An era also in the Prince's life. He comes to see us by the Queen's behest, To be our honored and illustrious guest ; The only guest by Senate invitation The Province ever saw from any nation. It will be seen the empire's western wing Knows how to welcome her own future king. He comes to learn our grand geography. Our rivers, mountains, woods and lakes to see ; Great works of nature, and one work of art. Those things whose names, the world has got by heart : The Heights of Abraham, Victoria Bridge ; The Falls i that shake Niagara's granite ridge ; Look at that bridge, those falls, then say who can Find grander handiworks of God and man ! The Prince comes here to see and to be seen ; All wish to see the offspring of the Queen. We'd rather she would come, but we'll evince Our love to her by honoring the Prince. I :-i ■ i 1 i ! ! , 11 ;,i 111 i it ;1 804 He'll tell her, when again beyond the sea, That we are loyal, just because we're free ; For over us she holds no tyrant sway — We love the Queen, and loving, we obey ! Custom House, "i Owen Sound, July 2, 1860. ) A TIME IS COMING.* The time is coming, coming, Yes, a time is coming fast ; 'Twill come to all the present As it came to all the past. To thousands it has come to-day — To thousands 'twill to-morrow—: To some it is a time of hope. To some despair and sorrow. * Having used a prescription for sore eyes, I leaned my head upon the bed to relieve the smart, fell asleep, and waked with the two first lines of this piece, compobod some- how while sleeping, aad these, of course, suggested what follows. 805 But once it comes to any. The' once it comes to all — Yet none can know the moment wh'^n That solemn time may fall. To Abel first it came, But who shall be the last To whom the message will be told Now time with thee is past ? A voice is coming, coming, A voice is coming fast ; *Twij: come to all the future, The present, and the past. It is the voice of Jesus, As in judgment He appears ; He will undo what Deeth has done These last six thousand years. Then Enoch and Elijah, In their bright, immortal clay, • Will joy to see the just arise All glorious as they ! There's glory and there's gladness, But also there is gloom ! The wicked — how shall they appear On that dread day of doom ? h. Ilii 806 Be ready, then, be ready, Is the kind and solemn call ; Be ready, be ready, The Saviour says to all. GOD. That God is omnipresent who could know Excepting God ? And He has said 'tis so. That God's omnipotent no mind could reach Excepting God's, and therefore could not teach. That God's all knowing who could know but He ? Who else proclaim his own eternity ? And who could say but He who soars above All in the universe, that God is love ? Then no mere man could ever reach the thought. The grandest e'er from earth to heaven brought. That God exists. Jehovah ! the I AM ! The Father ! Holy Spirit ! and The Lamb ! Who reigns upon a universal throne. This is the Christian's God, by God made known. Who fills all space with His unseen immensity. But reigns in Heaven with visible intensity. How true we walk by faith, and not by sight, Until we seo as seen in Heaven's light ; 307 Until we know, as we are also known, And see the Saviour on His Father's throne f A hope like this the love of sin must cure. And purify as He Himself is pure. A HYMN. And did the Lord of heaven and earth His throne of glory leave- Become a man by mortal birth. To die that we might live ? yes ! the Lord of Heaven came down, Appear'd on earth to save ; And bore His Heavenly Father's frown. That sunk Him to the grave ! The hour and power of darkness then Came with terrific gloom. Thy noblest victim now, Death, Lies low within the tomb ! The meaning of those mystic words Th' event does now reveal — Spoken in early dawn of time— "And thou shalt bruise hid heel." m m jr 1^ ' I i|H 308 But in that early dawn of time The Lord God also said — ** The woman's coming seed shall bruise The subtle serpent's head." The mighty Nazarite of old His heathen foes o'erthrew ! But in the hour of victory The Conq'rer perished too ! And thus, when Satan and the grave Their mighty force employ'd To kill the hated Prince of Life, They were themselves destroy'd. But soon He casts their fetters off, And spurns their dark controul, And sees in sinners justified The travail of His soul. He now has risen, angels say — Nor trust we them alone : His own belov'd disciples saw Him mount to Heaven's throne ! Ye everlasting doors give way — Your portals open wide ; The King of Glory now ascends To seek His Father's side. 309 In Him the Godhead's fullness shines ; All power in earth and Heaven To our Emanuel — God with us — Is by the Father given. And see ! upon His diadem. Engraved in living lines, " The Lamb of God who once was slain !' In gem-like glory shines. He ever lives to intercede — He ever lives to save ! With Him there is no sting in Death — No triumph in the grave ! In no created arm we trust, No creature sacrifice / The world's redemption ne'er was bought At such a worthless price ! The holiest creature can at most But claim his own reward. Who then could save a fallen race But our Almighty Lord ? 4 >,ii .1 !?-» 810 LOED OF LIFE. Lord of Life, supreme, eternal, Bless'd Immanuel — God with us ! Who in spite of foes infernal, Man and fiiend unanimous, Did achieve the great salvation, Which His holy saintt\ proclaim, Publishing to every nation Peace and pardon through His name. He who gives us life undying. Far as east is from the west — Sins that were for vengeance crying Takes away, and man is blest. what honour, thanks and blessings Shall we give to such a friend, Who, all wealth and power possessing. Loves His people to the end. Love from God His saints inherit, Grace from Christ, who died and rose, Fellowship, the Holy Spirit, With His loving law bestows. I' m ! :.i 311 Grieve not, then, that Holy Spirit, Love the Father and the Son ; Then in heaven we'll inherit Mansions which the Saviour won. I '1 ENVY NOT— A MORAL. " Who can stand before Envy ?" — Solomon* " Envy pines at good possessed." — Cowjper. I envy Stanley Stone his wife — A lovely woman she ; ! if I had her, I would havQ A living luxury, I envy Grey his handsome house. Complete from sill to tile ; ! if I had it I would live In such a handsome style. I envy Blue his two-in-hand j What horses ! what a rig ! If they were only mine I'd feel So gentlemanly big. 11/ H irfl I'll r' I- «[:'■ 312 I envy Brown those costly clothes, His brilliant ring as well ; What right has he to dress ^ fine ? The proud, conceited swell ! I envy Black his eloquence. How he can pleaci a cause ! If I had such a tongue as his I'd live upon applause ! I envy Green that wondrous voice. Zounds ! how the fellow sings ! If I had such a voice as his I'd prouder be than kings. I envy White his fine estate, Wuat timber and what grounds ! If I had it I would not sell For fifty thousand pounds. But most I envy Smith, who late Was out at knee and heel ; But now he's climb'd to Fortune's height On Fortune's partial wheel. Thus did unto his envious heart The fool soliloquize ; Wish'd what he hadn't — what he had He never learn'd to prize. 313 No one should envy any one Till this condition's had— Consent to change in ev'rything— To take the good and bad. Where is the man with whom you'd change- Give self for other self? You do not envy White his gout— You only wish his pelf. You envy Black }g& well-earn'd fame. But then you would recoil From gaining it as he has done, By wearing, wasting toil. Then cease to envy ; but if still You are on envy bent, Go envy him who always is In ev'ry state content And soon you'll cease to envy him. And learn to emulate ; For envy leads, if cherished, soon To misery and hate. ,1 n J ! .1 1 ■ if t^ I 814 THE SYMBOLICAL HEAD. In 1846 the author addressed the following letter to Mr. L. M. Fowler, of New York, and received a reply from his partner, Mr. Wells, saying that Mr. Fowler was muoh pleaded with the verses, which he would make use of the first opportunity, and send the author some copies of the book containing ^em : Sir, — Some months ago I saw for the first time your Synopsis of Phrenology and Physiology, and I was par- ticularly pleased with the arrangement and illustration of the faculties in the Symbolical Head; and wishing to make myself familiarly acquainted with the location of the various or^ns, I thought my menjjory woujd be assisted by a poetical description, and I wrote the following. I showed it to some friends, ^ho said that it might be useful also to others, and might be printed with advantage in connection with the Synopsis, in another edition. If you,^ Sir, should be of the same opinion, the verses are at your service, and I shall feel obliged by your sending lofi a few copies. Low in the occiput is fond amativenes«, With nursing, pairing, fighting, and vitativeness ; O'er these is friendship, near the love of home ; That's near where thoughts are not allowed to roajrt* ai5 ess; e; Next love of praise and lordly self-esteem ; ^That's near where justice holds the equal beam. O'er this is firmness, with determined will — Sublimity below does all the organ fill ; By caution backward flank'd, and at its base Your secrets find secure a resting-place. Below sublimity is love of gold, Based by good eating and wolf in the fold ; The last is fitting emblem of destructiveness. Pass love of gold and then you meet construe - tiveness. Below is tune ; above, in robes of light, Is love of all that's beautiful and bright ; And o'er the last blest hope all joyous seems. Near faith in fictions, wonders, ghosts and dreams. O'er these is veneration, placed on high. And see, the good Samaritan is nigh ; He there benevolence personifies, Above the youth that imitation tries ; And these upon agreeableness lean. That points to mirthfulness, of laughing mien. Then time, the guide of tune, is under fun. In front of time is organ thirty-one, Locality 'tis called; below is size, . ^ And weight, that does with nice discernment poise ; Then colour, with each various hue and shade ; Next order, has each nice arrangement made ; M . t-T J VA' '■' 11 4^i I: I 1) 816 And this quite seemly in a near relation Is joining close on kindred calculation. The base of weight and size, within the eye. Is language, and distinctly form is nigh ; Ind'viduality above the nose^ To single out each differing object chose. O'er this is memory, with facts well stored. Increasing always her promiscuous hoard. Above, profound causality is seen, And last is shrewd comparison between: These two, when large, assert a wide domain. And jointly over all the organs reign. Thus by these various faculties you see That God's the Author of Phrenology. I , MY SHANTY. In 1848 the author bad a GoTernment contract for open- ing a road through the Melancth(Hi Swamp, in which he made nearly J5ve miles of corduroy, requiring some 30,000 logs, giving a wa^on in passing over it, count- ing both front and hind wheels, some 60,000 jolts. In writing to his wife at the time he sent the following description of his first shanty ; 317 It is kitchen, and cook-house, and carpenter-shop, So we've plenty of shavings and plenty of slop ; It's a store-room, and dressing-room, eating-room then, It's a sleeping-room, too, for two dozen of men. There's a hole in the roof, and below it we keep, For cooking and warming, a blazing log heap. Our window's a skylight — but then there's no glass. Because it's through it that the smoke has to pass. Not a wife, or a mother, a sister, or auntie. Has ever been yet within miles of our shanty ; And as there's no women amongst us at all I'm inclined to believe this is Bachelor's Hall. We have clapboards for roof and the ground for a floor. And the house is eighteen by just twenty and four. No wife there's to please, nor a baby to hush. And I sleep in the corner on dry hemlock brush. Some two hours before day, when the watch points to four, Ev'ry one in the shanty must finish his snore. The firemen and teamsters, the choppers and cook. Midst stretching and yawning, turn out like a book. The fire is renewed, for it never goes out ; Our kettle's a pot, without cover or spout. '■i li ii,-i. ! ■ lr ■, I .;' 318 Beef, potatoes and bannocks are placed on the table ; Each appetite holds out as long as it's able. And just as we see without candle or lamp, The hands are all ready to enter the swamp, Where oxen and horses, men, bosses and boys. Are tugging away at our log corduroys. TO CATCH A TfflEF. AN OLD STORY TOLD NOW IN RHYME. Some travellers and loafers met together Within a bar-room, in some kind of weather : They talk and sing, the jest all gaily passes, Help'd on by sundry rounds of emptied glasses ; When one cried out — dismay was in his look — ** Some one of you has filch'd my pocket book !'* All seem'd astonished, and each one denied ; " Some one has got it," the poor man replied. Another man came in ; to him in brief They told the thing; said ho, "111 find the thief! Just bring a rooster and an old brass kettle." He put the rooster in below i>ie metal : " Put out the lights. Now, each of you must go And touch the kettle : if the rooster crow ,, ,. J ] J 819 When any touch it, he's the very stealer ; Come, at it now— each man put out his feeler !'* AH said they touched it—yet the cock was mute. *' Bring lights and show your hands !'.' All show'd the soot Upon their fingers. One tho' show'd them not. He was the thief, and feared to touch the pot. Those clean from theft had dirty fingers left, His, clean from soot, were dirtied by the theft ; His pockets searched, the pocket book was found, And then by constable was sent to pound. •u I WEITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM. Thoughts that fall like summer rain, Eising into flowers again, Soft as gentle maiden sighs, Bright as stars in midnight skies. Or the spangles on the snow. In the frosty morning's glow : All such thoughts as these, and others, Gather'd are by rhyming brothers ; Cull'd with nice poetic care, As an off 'ring to the fair, By friendship, flattery, or love. Angel, houri, peri, dove— , , I!! ■ ; :.) ;. f' S20 All such pretty appellations. Given all to lady nations, Which they pleasantly receive, All quite willing to believe. Within their handsome album's pages Garner'd these, as such the rage is, As mementos of the past, When years of youth behind are cast. Good wishes I would simply give ; Peaceful to die — -to happy live. No doubt you wish to be a bride — I wish your wish — that side by side With one that's husband, lover, friend, Your life may pass until the end. Such blessings may kind heaven send ! WRITTEN FOR A LADY'S ALBUM IN TORONTO, MARCH 13, 1840. U BY REQUEST. I fain would twine a wreath of flowers, Bedeck'd with gems of thought, Bright as the dew in morning hours By golden sunbeams sought. Li Ui Ti Dc ? I 821 Throughout the wide expanse of mind My wish would wander o'er, To cull a wreath by fancy twined That ne'er was twined before. But wishes are no flow'ry wreath— They give no golden wing ' To leave the dull cold earth beneath And soar where seraphs sing Where flow'rs of bright perennial hues In bow'rs of Eden bloom- Where the vibrations of the muse Shake out a rich perfume. And as, fair friend, I cannot twine The wreath desired by thee, Upon thine album's page to bloom, Be this my apology. ' I I , 1 HINTS TO HOUSEKEEPERS. Lie in bed in the morn, tno' the weather is fine," Until half after eight, or, if drowsy, till nine ; Then dress in a hurry, as time flies apace, Don't trouble yourselves to wash fingers or face ; r l\ 'If* 322 1 ;l ii! Leave your beds all unmade until bedtime at night, But keep your doors shut, though, to keep them from sight ; When you've washed last night's dishes, for breakfast you can Just use thom, and then put them all in a pau, And let them remain with a great many more — Dirty dishes and pots on the table and floor — Till you're wanting to use them, then all in a hurry Make dishes and dishcloth fly round in a flurry. After breakfast go milk, but first wash the pail, For the froth of last milking has got rather stale ; And then, as of time you would fain be a gainer. When you've milk'd, put on water to wash out the strainer. As they're scattered and foul, (if you have it on hand) Put on enough water to wash out the pans ; But if not convenient don't be over nice. Because the last washing may do for them twice; And then, by-and-by, as it comes to its turn. When you just want to use it, go wash out the chum: ■^^ Sue] i i cne at them !S, for mil, )re — r — 11 in a urry. pail, rather rainer, out the e it on r them rn, out the 328 While the cream is dash'd up on the lid, as it lingers, Let the young ones around lick it off from their fingers ; But while they do this, though, good nature sup- poses You'll pay some attention, at least, to their noses ! When darkness has closed all the house in its folds Go search for the tallow, the wick, and the moulds. To mp.ke the night's candles ; your husband, poor . fool ! May stay in the dark till the candles ar^ cool. And till they are cold, as you can't use your peepers, Just think on these few hasty hints to house- keepers. EUEAL MUSIC, Cackl. , ai^VJe, cackle, bow, wow, wow, SquerJi, sq lea'r, squeak, mew, mew, mew, Bleat, bleat, oleat, and roar, roar, roar. Such the rural music .round the farmer's cottage door. I:. . i i; i. I: i\ I' li-' ; ' ;:! ■■•r m l : I, ■ I- • 324 h I Chirp, chirp, chirp, peep, peep, peep. Crow, crow, crow, to wake us up from sleep ; Whir, whir, whir, upon the threshing floor. Such the rural music round the harn and stahle door. Quack, quack, quack, neigh, neigh, neigh, Gobble, gobble, gobble, bray, bray, bray, Grunt, grunt, grunt, as it was of yore, Such the rural music round the farmer's cottage door. Laugh, laugh, laugh, prattle, prattle, prattle, Jump, jump, jump, rattle, rattle, rattle, Boys and girls a-romping round the kitchen floor, Health there is, and plenty, round the farmer's cottage door. Plough, plough, plough, sow, sow, sow, Beap, reap, reap, mow, mow, mow, Work, work, work — his fathers did before — There's labour but there's pleasure all within his cottage door. ); 325 stable MR. JOHN CAREY, cottage tie, m floor, armer'a ihin his In the winter of 1840, which I spent mostly in Toronto, I often met with the well-known Mr. John Carey. Excepting the government Gazette, he published the first newspaper in Toronto, or Little York. It was called the Observer, started in 1819, and it was the first paper I ever read. He was a man of considerable ability, large in stature, blunt in speech, and the fearless defender of what he looked upon as the right side in poli- tics, and also ot the injm'ed or oppressed. He was Irish, and had Irish wit. He was one of the first who reported the speeches of the House. He was met one morning by a . member, who said — ** Mr. Carey, v/hy did you publish that speech in your paper, saying that I had made it, when you know I did not deliver a word of it ?" *' Yes," replied Carey, " I know that, but you ought to have done it." The observations of the Observer soon came to a close, as they did not please **thc powers that be," and the pay from popular support was then rather poor. In 1840 he again seated himself in the N i '■ i ■ 1 m M ##' t. ii 1 326 editorial chair, when he established the Globe — not the Globe of the j)resent era. Before he com- menced it he proposed that I should join him in its publication. This being declined, he com- menced it alone, but for want of that which is said **to answer all things," the Globe, like the Observer, soon left its orbit. Mr. Carey came to my hotel one evening in 1840, and said — '* I am lame in my shoulder from a fall. I wish you would come to my lodgings and assist me to write out the Parliamentary reports from my notes." I said " I will go ;" and he observed, ** I will introduce you to a young lady, one of the best singers in Canada." I would have gone, of course, to oblige him ; but as thirty years ago I was thirty years younger than I am now, and single at that, those who are now or have been young men will understand that this was an additional inducement. Mr. C. lodged with a lady, Mrs. 0., the widow of a Canadian ship captain, and Miss H., the singer in question, lived in rooms adjoining, with her mother, the widow of a British officer. When we went into the house, Carey said to the daughter of his hostess — " Go and ask Miss H. if she will come and take tea with us." She returned, say- ing that Miss H.'s mother could not spare her 327 that evening. At this we were both disappointed. I may explain that each family had a front entrance, but there was an unopened door between the two premises, and through this we could dis- tinctly hear Miss H., when she began, a few minutes after, to sing. When she stopu^d, Carey said in a loud voice — ** Miss H., give us * Home, Sweet Home.' " She began, and I said — " I never heard a nightingale, but I think it must be some- thing like that." He made some reply. Miss H. stopped and said — " Mr. Carey, you are a j)retty man ! You ask me to sing, and now you're talk- ing !" He replied — " There is a gentleman here, a poet, who says you sing like a nightingale." I then said to him — " As you have spoken of me as a poet, I had better write a couple of verses, com- plimenting her singing." " Do," said he, " and I will send them round." I wrote : Thy voice is soft and musical. You sing with witching grace ; But 'twould be still more beautiful If we could see thy face. Whene'er we hear an angel's voice She also should be seen. 'Tis hard to have an envious door, And plaster'd wall between. < : il !V I , t i '.■ ir i. W mm •# ^! 328 They were sent round, and soon after Carey went himself to try and prevail with Mrs. H. to let her daughter come. He did not succeed, and felt rather mortified, but said onliis return — " Yju had better write a couple more verses, regretting that she 4oes not come, but commending her for her obedience to her mother." I wrote : It seems the songster cannot grant The wish my verse express'd, Because thy mother answer'd No, Though Mr. Carey press'd. 'Tis well to heed thy mother's voice, Tho' us she did deny. Some other time, perchance, we'll hear Thy voice of melody. These verses were also sent round. I saw her for a moment that night upon the landing, when I was introduced, but I never happened to meet her again. I was told by another young lady, a short time after, that she met her at a party, and she had the verses with her. The last time I saw Mr. Carey was about 18 years ago. The stage stopped at Springfield, where he was living then. It was at the time when the Government had gone out of office, and 4 329 there appeared to be a dead lock, and no one seemed for the time to be able to form a ministry. Mr. Carey came to the door of the stage and said, in his usual blunt way — "Are you going to town to help to form a Government ?" He was not very well at the time, and he died some two w«ek3 after. %■ *; ■ THE OWEN SOUND COUNCIL FOR 1859. „ ! ler ten leet a Lnd FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE " COMET." Our town has given the powers of legislation To ten, with each a different occupation ; A merchant one, and one an ex-distiller, A cooper one, and olo a fat beef killer ; One levies executions, one makes writs, One makes a bm'eau, one a shoe that fits ; One is a joiner, one a steamboat boss, All pledged to save our interests from loss. Just three believe the methodistic creed. Two think that England's royal church should lead ; Eour think the Presbyterians are right, And one rejoices in the Baptist light. i hi 380 One Irish and one Scotch, two English, and The rest are natives of this favour'd land. I'v told their callings, countries, and their creeds, *Tis yet too soon to prate about their deeds. Time's tongue will tell, and so perhaps will mine, If right or wrong, their deeds for fifty-nine ; I'd rather praise than blame, the last I'll do, Tho' 'gainst my will if praise would not be due. IMPEOMPTU— AT HAMILTON. I was at a Musical Concert given by Professor Clark In Hamilton in 1840. He accompanied himself on the piano. It was the first concert of the kind I had ever attended. Among other pieces Mr. Clark sang a very popular song describing a " Storm at Sea." When he had finished I rose and said : We ne'er feel till we hear such wild melody roll, That the ear is related so close to the soul. But they who would doubt it need only to hark To a musical storm of the ocean by Clark ! After the music of hands and feet, which followed this, had subsided, the Professor said : " As the gentleman is so well pleased with the song, I will sing it again." This was to me, of course, as gratifying as unexpected. And it is the only instance I have known of a public per- former giving a voluntary encore. 331 IMPKOMPTU— AT OWEN SOUND. In January, 1859, there was a Concert at the Court House, Owen Sound, for the purpose of raising money to aid three unfortunate widows, whose husbands had all died* suddenly some time before. The following is from the Owen Sound Comet. " At the close of one of the pieces, which was sung in a very effective manner, and on which the audience hung with breathless attention, Mr. W. A. Stephens arose from the midst of the crowd and electrified us by the recital of the following impromptu " : .t' This knd per- Mrs. Parker, and Spencer, and Armstrong and Vick, And Miss Woolrich, their songs make our pulses beat quick ! Mrs. Spencer and Hastie, Garvie, Armstrong and Gale, Hunter, Brodie and Boardman, their efforts don't fail. The heart's in our ears, as their music comes o'er us, How sweet is each solo, how grand is the chorus ! '■ .:!! ^J i\ I i 332 We could listen all night — when the last piece is o'er, "We still could call out for another encore ! But the hest of it is that each musical voice Bids the heart of the widow and orphan rejoice. The ohoir recovered themselves, and with renewed heart seemed to enter into the " Spirit of their Song." IMPROMPTU— AT MEAFOED. Some years ago, several concerts were given in tliis part of 4;he County, for the purpose of aiding in the erection or completion of Church Buildings. I attended one at Meaford. About the close of the pro- gramme, I rose and repeated what I had just composed for the occasion. 'Tis said Apollo, the old heathen hoy, By his good harp built up the walls of Troy ; That stone and morter in their dancing paces All leap'd and splash'd into their several places. Perhaps he gave some concerts, grave or funny, And by the tickets made large sums of money. While others built the walls, he paid them for it, And thus with music built each tower and turret. And thus we moderns his example follow, And try to build with music like Apollo. 833 THE TWELFTH OF JULY. FROM THE OWEN SOUND ''TIMES," JULY IOtH, 18G1. The following lines were written bj Mr. W. A. Stephens on the 12th instant, and road the same daj durin- a speech, rrforrcd to above, by Ogle II. Gowan, at Owen fcound. Mr. Stephens is not an Orangeman, but wishes to promote between Orangemen ana Catholics a more friendly feeling than at present exists. By martial music stirrVl, Thro' hill and valley heard, Our Lodges come. Stern memories of old, Of sires for freedom bold, When blood in torrents roll'd At beat of drum. Come from the father land. And felt thro' all our band. Our bosoms sv/ell — Arm'd with their high intent, With truth and valour blent— If call'd on by the event. Our deeds will tell. • n M !'l ,•' , fii: 834 Like our illustrious sires, We have the heart that fires In freedom's cause. And let it now be seen In word, and act, and mien, That while we love our Queen We'll guard the laws. And let us cast away, — Unworthy of the day, — All hate to those Who differ in their creed : Let kindness take the lead. And show by word and deed \y^e are not foes. In harmony is seen The orange and the green, In field and bower. Then let us look above For motives that may move, And over all, let love Exert her power ! 835 LINES WEITTEN IN A YOUNG LADY'S ' ALBUM. Sweet, sweet, are the flow'rs of earth, And bright are the stars of even And bright is the hour of the rainbow's birth As it spans the arch of heaven. * And the soul will thrill, as with kindling eyes We on their glories gaze. Upon the flow'ret's varied dies, And on the starry blaze. But ! there's a deeper feeling far, That doth the spirit warm, When the bloom of the flow'r and beam of the star 18 seen in ivoman's form / TO MAGGIE. . She handsome is that handsome does, This will be true, is now, and was ; So let this maxim be thy guide. While thou art by thy mother's side ; # !^ 'A- m # 336 And when without her aid you tread Tlie path of life, by others led, Still let it be thy rule of life. When pleasure smiles or cares are rife : She handsome is that handsome does, Which will be true, is now, and W. A. S.* THE BLIND PIPEE AND W. A. STEPHi S. PBOM THE OWEN SOUND "TIMES." Mr. Editor, — While at dinner at the Railroad House yesterday, I observed two gentlemen com- ing in, the eldest seemingly about 40, with a full ard genial countenance, but he was blind. His companion was, as I afterwards learned, his bro- ther, and, so far as he could, gave him the use of his own eyes. In the evening I was told that Ferguson, the celebrated Irish piper, was to give a concert in the Town Hall. As I had never heard the Irish pipes, I resolved to go. The house was pretty well filled. When the musician came in, I saw it was the blind man I had seen at dinner. He has • M/ initials make the last word ia the piece. ii» ■n i .s. 337 perfect mastery of his instruments, of wliicli ho has two. He played on one until intermission, and after it was over he took the other. I do not pretend to decide as to the merits of the two, but I should think that " both are best." Most of the melodies were Irish, and most of these were the melodies of Moore. I never saw any performer who seemed to enter so fully into the spirit of his work, and he looked at times as if body and soul were brim full of fun and music ; and he sang as well as he played. There were no printed programmes. He simply announced each ])iece before he sang and played it. About the middle of the first part, when he had just finished the song *' A Dollar or Two," your townsman, Mr.W. A. Stephens, rose and delivered the following impromptu : " How sweet and how mellow and clear are the strains That come through his fingers from Ferguson's brains; And then his rich voice is to music all true, As he gives us the song of " * A Dollar or Two.* " This, of course, set in motion the soles and the palms of the people, above which was heard cries of encore. I **•; >' i i''f i l| W' 888 Mr. Ferguson's manner is to dash at once, with- out notice, from the mournful to the merry ; and about the middle of the second part this feature brought up Mr. Stephens again, who said : ** How rapidly Ferguson's fingers run From mellow and grave to farce and fun ; And he seta the house in calm or roar By * Tara's Hall ' and ' Eory O'More.' " This sally appeared to be appreciated fully as much as the first, especially by Mr. Ferguson himself, who made an attempt to reciprocate by an impromptu of his own, and then performed, for Mr. Stephens' special benefit, "Life let us Cherish." I saw the performer this morning at the hotel, and I learned from him that he is a native of the County of Limerick; that he lost his sight by cataract at the age of ten; that he came to America when he was young ; and that it was on this. continent he first took up the profession of travelling minstrel. He observed that if he could continue steadily to travel and play, he could make his fortune, but the work is so exhausting that he has always to lie by after an effort of a few weeks. — -Correspondent. Collingwood, Oct. 25, 1870, 11, ► 839 1- d TO MISS B- Pencilled while i^e was playing the piano. When ahe fltopped I said — '• While you have been playing I have been writing;" and I read: How sweet to list the witching sounds That from each stricken chord rebounds, As a lady's fingers move along, Waking the sweetest strains of song, While the spirit of music seems to bring Her treasures from out each hidden string, To pour through the ear upon the soul. While their so"^t and varied numbers rolL The above occurred while stopping a niglit at the British ex-consul's, at Niagara Falls, 1844. ff:i j'?i THE POPE INFALLIBLE. Rome conquered the world, to rule and to fleece her — The Senate then made a god of their Caesar — They made him divine, and then, as in justice. Decreed divine honors and worshipp'd Augustus. ?|i 340 M Their example is followed by Rome, now Pon- tifical — So old and so great, so rich and so mystical ; In the name, as they say, of the glorious Trinity, The Senate of Bishops have made a divinity ; Hoping to place the world under his rod Who sits now as God in the temple of God, Commanding the earth to submit and come under The power of his mighty Pontifical thunder ! And to say when he speaks, or in blessing or ban, " 'Tis the voice of a god and not of a man !" There was one who received such applause from a host — He was eaten of worms and then gave up the ghost. / This fearful example a warning I'd make To those who such blasi>]i8my utter or take. High clergy were call'd from Becrsheba to Dz^n — And then in the hall of the great Vatican Some four hundred falllhles made an infalllhle ! And the Catholic faith is so plastic and malleable, It accepts it as true, tho' it would not be greater For foiu* hundred creatures to make a Creator ! 341 ; n HONOUE AND FAME FROM NO CONDITION RISE. The following poem was commenced in February, 1867, while I was trying to cure a cold by being wrapped in a wet sheet, and finished after I came out of it : " Honor and fame from no condition rise ; Act well your part — there all the honor lies." By Eve, a beggar to the king is brother, And each one brings to earth as much as t'other ; And, when they've shuffled off this mortal coil, Each takes away the same of earthly spoil. The diff'rence, then, between them, it appears, Will only last a few short mortal years. A wise old king has very wisely said A living dog excels a lion dead ; And no street beggar, either young or old, With royal corse would change, though wrapped in gold. To geometry there is no royal road, And there is none to Heaven's serene abode ; The good, whate'er their rank, or wealth, or age, Will find it traced upon the holy page ; !1 I : I VP 342 There Lazarus does to the Heavens rise, While scarlet clad in hell hfts up his eyes. One thing all take from earth, or good or bad — What's this ? It is the character they had. 'Tis said by Him who spake as none before, The rich can hardly enter at the door Of Heaven's kingdom. 'Tis a solemn thought. But who are they who feel it as they ought ? «i For all are more than willing to essay The path of riches, could they find the way. In ev'ry age and country men abound. All willing in perdition to be drowned — Or seeming so — if they by gold can tower Above the crowd in pres-tige, pomp and power ; Nor ask — What profit, should I gain the world. If I must be to sad perdition hurled ? To lose my soul — to be a cast-away — The worth of this can mammon ever pay ? THE CHANGES IN MAN'S PHYSICAL IDENTITY. It is said by physiologists, and received as true by the rest of the world, that in seven years every atom of the human body passes off and is replaced by other atoms, so that the body you had seven 343 ^t\ e y d Q years ago is not in any particle the same that you have now. This may be, perhaps, the reason why it takes seven years for a foreigner to be accli- mated, and the reason why, in some countries, it requires seven years of residence to become natu- ralized before he can be allowed the privilege of citizenship — requiring thus to be kept in a sort of political quarantine, so as to remove any danger of infection by the body politic. Than the Irish, no people are more given to emigration; and, for example, any one of them who migrated to France seven years ago does not possess, at the present time, a single particle Of his Irish muscle, skin or veins, His Irish sinews, bones or brains. His recollections, feelings, mind, are still Irish, but his present body being made in France, is French, having been manufactured of French bread, French beef, French wine, and French frogs, &c., &c. ; so that no English, Irish, or Scotchman, or any other, who has been seven years from his native country, can say, my body is English, Irish, or Scotch, &c. According to the above seven years' hypothesis, a man who has lifed seventy years has had his actual physical identity changed ten times. i ;N '-] 1 1^ I 844 I I ■*> A LEAF FEOM MY DIARY, 10th MARCH, 1852. I am now writing this at 10 p.m. What an immense number of persons in America are now winding up their clocks and watches, and pulling off their boots and shoes, and putting on or put- ting off their slippers, and pulling off their coats, and vests, and pants, and drawers, and stock- ings, and frocks, and gowns, and confidential day dresses, and their day caps, and putting on their night caps and night dresses, and putting down the blankets and sheets, and stepping into bed, to sleep and dream till morning. And how many dram -sellers are drawing drams for dram-drinkers. And how many are Btas^gering home, and how many lying in the gutter, and how many are swearing and fighting, and how many poor women, with poor clothing, and poor fire, and poor light, and poorly fed, in a poor-house, with a poor bro- ken heart, are wishing for the enactment of the Maine Law, while they are waiting up for, or phrinking from, the blows of their drunken hus- bands, who have made them poor, while their poor frightened children are flying from the house s- se 845 for fear of their drunken fathers. And how many dram-drinkers are now writhing in the last agonies of delirium tremens, who have been drammed till they are literally damned ! God only knows ! And how many who are not drinkers, who have gone to bed, .and are going, without praying to God, or thanking Him for His many mercies ! Alas, how many ! A CANADIAN SONG. Written when the Fenians were mustering on our frontier, and our Volunteers were mustering to meet them. To this muster we have come, Our loved Canada, for you, And our bright and happy homes we go to save ; We have met beneath the flag Of the red, white and the blue, So beloved by all the loyal and the brave. Chorus. Sing, sing, for we'll soon be marching Off, off, if the Fenians come ; We'll dash theni bravely back. While their blood shall dye the track. Or they shall find the felon's gloomy home. i. '■■^ '; ;i M 846 Of the memories of old, Shining beacon-lights of time — On the great and happy islq,nds of our sires, Where reigns our matchless Queen, With her character sublime, And Freedom keeps alive her holy fires. Chorus — Sing, sing, &c. Of our young and mighty land. Now jtist bursting into prime. Where the myriads of earth may find a home, 'Neath Briton's western wing. In our broad and happy clime. Where freedom, hope and plenty bid them come. Chorus — Sing, sing, &c. I LOVED THEE— YES! When a young man I was often asked to write for those who had more love than poetry in their composition. Among others I find the following. I do not remem- ber for whom it was written : I loved thee — yes ! The magic spell That's in that word I know full well. I loved thee ! Oh, my blighted heart ! I love thee still. How can depart 847 n le, ome. )r those )osition. remem- That passion which my being shrined, Whose fire with ev'ry fecUng twined ? I felt the bUss — I feel the woe — And all my treasur'd hopes forego. Thy father — that he is thy sire Shields him from my hate and ire. He is thy father, Marg'ret. Yes, I cannot curse whom thou wouldst bless ; And yet how sordid and severe To blight the hopes I held so dear ! If I had been but fortune's child, Then on those hopes he would have smiled, But now farewell ! I fain would fly From thee, from love, and agony. I go to find a home or grave Beyond the rolling ocean wave, lii iliat fair isle, the ocean's gem — ■ 'Tis Neptune's em'rald diadem — From which I came in early years. Ere hope's bright dream was dimm'd with teairs, I go to fiy from love and thee ; But vain — my thoughts eternally Will wander back to love and you ; Kemembrance will not say adieu / ■{ '!: I r h 818 THE PREACHER'S ADDRESS. FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE OWEN SOUND ** TIMES." It has been said of Bruoe's Address at Bannockburn, that it is the finest war ode that has ever been written. Let this be the ease or not, it has in it, as all acknowledge, the true spirit of martial poetry, and it stirs the feeling of patriotism in Scotsmen to its greatest depths. Almost all popular songs have been parodied. I liave parodied this in applying it to a theme far more grand and inter- esting than the original or any mere national or worldly glorification. The nature of the subject required that I should leave out the Sooticisms; for although we hive love songs, war songs, patriotic songs, comic songs, pathetic songs, bacchanalian songs, and other songs, the emanations of genius of the highest order, I am not aware that any hymns or spiritual songs have ever boon written in hraid Scotch, and therefore the Scotch, as well as ourselves, sing the praises of God in English, Without further remark I give the following : Saints who are by Jesus led — Saints for whom tlio Saviour blod — Come behold His gory bed, Au4 His victory ! '> i >l 'S 319 Now's Iho dread and fearful hour ; See the storms of darkness lower ; See approach proud Satan's power — , Stripes and agony ! Who would be to sin a slave ? Who would fill a sinner's grave ? Since the Saviour died to save And give liberty ! From pollution's woes and pains, And from everlasting chains, He did drain His dearest veins, That we might be free ! Who for Heaven's King and law Truth's bright sword will strongly draw ? Christians stand or Christians fall — Brethren, on with me ! Lay the dread usurper low ! Sin is man's eternal foe ! But, since Christ will guide the blow, We shall conquerors be ! I ; I I I m '■ ■' 350 hi y I , MOUNT SINAI AND MOUNT ZION. Hebrews xii. Once, guided Ly Moses, old Israel came, With the pillar of cloud and the pillar of flame ; They rested at Sinai — -Jehovah was there ! — But to touch the dread mountain no Israelite dare. God tells them in thunder what's virtue and crime. Whilst the terrible mingles with more than sub- lime. In blackness, in darkness, in tempest, in ire, Jehovah is throned on the mountain of fire ! But now let us sing in our loftiest strains, At Sinai no more, but at Zion He reigns ! Not guided by Moses, but Jesus, we come. To th' glorious mountain, now Israel's home ! All the first-born of Heaven, in robes bright and fair. And the angels that never have fallen, are there ; And God, Judge of all, and the Lamb that was slain. And the blood fiercely shed in the hour of His pain, I 361 Which tells better tidings than Abel's, who led The way to the silent repose of the dead ! His blood caird for vengeance. The blood of the Lamb Speaks pardon and peace — to the nations a balm. And ! that the world would but listen and bow In homage to Him who leads Israel now, And rejoice in His rule, that is over all things, As Lord of all lords and the Monarch of kings ! ' ]■ THE BAPTISM OF CHRIST, JH ^ it and there ; It was f His Behold that man of God ! Elijah's duplicate — Good Zachariah's son — The Baptist, John the great, Stand in that sacred stream. Which once, in days of old, Had its waters piled on heaps, As in holy writ 'tis told. Saved by the unseen dam. On dry and pebbly road The hosts of Jacob passed, Led by the hand of God. nMvi *^ 852 Through here, in after years, The first Elijah came, T'j mount the rushing whirlwind In his chariot of tlamo. 'Twas from its healing stream Th<^ great Assyrian flrii)]>M, "Which carri'jil off his leprosy When he seven times liad dipp'd. But now not one, but myriads. With moral leprosy, Are dipp'd by John in Jordan To gain remission free. When all had been baptised Then comes the Nazarone : ** I wish to be immersed." ! what a wondrous scene ! The greatest human born Shrinks back with solemn awe ! He felt he was not worthy Even off the shoes to draw From Ilim who asked the rite : " I need that dte from thee ;" ** We must fullil all righteousness, And thus now it must bo." 853 John hesitates no more ; The marvellous behest Obeys, and Jordan's tide The Son of God has prcss'd ! As He rises to the shore They see the vault of Heaven Brightly open, and a dove Pass through where it was riven. It is the Holy Spirit, Never seen by man before ; And such a scene as this Again will never more Be seen in earth or Heaven. The Spirit hovers down ; I ights on the Saviour's head. ! what a wondrous crown ! A voice from Him who spake From Sinai's fiery crest, Came through the open'd vault, While the Spirit was at rest : *' This is my well beloved Son," The Holy Father said. Thus here at once is heard and seen By man the whole Godh ad ! 'I } »■ U.1 If; 854 Thus Baptism has been, As Jesus left the tide, More honor'd by our God Than any rite beside. Yet some will dare to scoff And ridicule what He Has joined with faith in Christ To gain remission free. A CHILD CARRIED AWAY BY AN EAGLE. An eagle from the sky Swoops down upon his prey ; He rises — in his talons He bears a child away ! The parents are from home — A girl is looking on ; All struck with fearful horror She sinks down in a swoon. She recovers — sees the bird Fly slowly with his freight, And wildly on she follows To save it from its fate. ii 855 In an agony of fear She chases through a wood. And sees the eagle stooping Hard by a river's flood. He lights upon the ground — Just then she hears a shot ; The eagle, frightened, rises—' The baby he has not. She wildly cries and runs, For coining hack he seems ; The hunter sees her running, And hears her fearful screams. He thinks not of the game Just killed among the reeds • He sees the bii-d above him. And he fears it^ dark misdeeds. He joins in loudest voice—- In haste reloads his gun ; The eagle, disconcerted. Now flies. The field is won. The girl the hunter reached, And then exhausted fell All breathless with her running The cause she could not tell. *\t •I: w il 856 Just then, an infant's cries Came on his wond'ring ear ; He started, and discovered, Unharmed, the little dear. In agony of joy The maiden to her breast Has clasped the little traveller, And ! but she is blest ! The parents have returned ; They miss the truant pair ; But soon they see them coming. ! what a scene is there ! The hunter, too, is with them — The wondrous tale is told ; And with all love's intensity The babe they did enfold Within their arms. Who knows The terror and* the joy That thrill'd through ev'ry fibre As they gazed upon their boy ? 'Twas Christmas, and it was Most joyous day of life, So happy were the trio — That maiden, man and wife ! The above incident occurred on Christmas, 18G8, in one of the Americtin States, and I have merely turned it into verse. 857 i I 18G8, in turned it A CITIZEN OF raUNKENDOM. The crown was out of his old phig hat. He'd a quid in his cheek put hy ; A flask he had in his old coat tail, And a glass he had in his eye. His brownish brogues had no blacking seen For many and many a day, And from both the ends of his toes were scon, And open the quarters lay. His pants, through many a seedy rent, Disclosed his naked skin. Respectable once— but look at him now ! A slave to tobacco and gin ! His wife is at home— i^ is leaky and cold— In her eye there's no joyful beam. The rags in the sash let in the cold. And keep out the sunny gleam. The children— for she has children there- Have learned both to beg and steal, And have learn'd by His sacred name to swear To whom they never kneel ! 1 358 Ye who dispense the fatal cup, And spread the ruin wide, * Wlien Death's pale horse appears in sight, And you must mount and ride — What joy it will be to think of the dimes You've had for many a dram, From those who are now in a drunkard's grave. Whom your liquor has helped to damn ! PRAYEE. Let Christians always pray, Come what may ; Always pray and never faint : This is the way the Saviour taught, In joys or trials. The pray'rs of saints in golden vials Are kept in Heav'n. ! glorious thought ! Then without ceasing pray, Night or day ; Ever pray in Jesus' name ; He who's the way salvation wrought. 859 He once was bleeding— Now He triumphs, intercedin^r With God in Heaven. ! wondrous thought t Then without ceasing pray ; The scriptures say, Watch and pray, and never faint. Will soften sorrow. Grief is to-day-joy comes to-morrow-. It comes through pray'er. ! cheering thought ! f CHBISTIAN ARMOUIi Ephesians vi. All clad in armour from on high United let us standi ^ With loins all girded round with truth A bold, devoted band. With breastplates formed of righteousness. And feet securely shod, Besolved and ready to obey Tl;e Gospel of our God. [ 13 ml * 360 And in each hand the Spirit's sword We all must bravely wield, And raise aloft for our defence Faith's bright celestial shield. To finish, then, our panoply, And make the foeman bow. Salvation's helmet safe must guard Each firm, undaunted brow. And thus equipped, the stoutest foe We all may safely dare ; But we must watch, and add to all Our earnest daily prayer ! And then, through Him that loved us, The victory is ours. And more than conquerors we'll be O'er all opposing powers. y \ THE TRANSFIGURATION OF CHRIST, Once Jesus gave the wondrous grace To Peter, James and John, To see Him on the mountain while His visage brightly shone. *' , 361 Its In presence of Elijah and Tliat grand old man of God, Who smote the rock at Miriba With Aaron's wondrous rod, nr. And died for that transgression, And was buried by the Lord, Whilst no man knew his sepulchre- So saith the holy Word. IT. Wlien many ages pass away He is allow'd to stand With Jesus on the mountain top. Within the promised land. V. He there who fasted forty days Met in that interview — While Heav'n its effulgence round The holy conclave threw. VI. One in immortal clay was there, One from the spirit land, And one in living flesh and blood, Did there together stand. P 1} 262 VII, And these are all the states in which Mankind are known to he — The living, dead, and glorified—' And all are one of three. VIII. 'ill ' They spoke of the decease which Christ Was to accomplish soon, Which brought salvation unto man— God's great, eternal boon. IX. But when from out the shadowing cloutl A voice was heard to say — "Hear this my well-beloved Son !'*. The vision passed away ! X. Not Moses or Elijah now» But Christ, th' embodied word. In Zion rules o'er Heaven and earth- Tho Universal Lord ! 3G3 THE NINE PARTS OF SPEECH. I was asked by several persons if I were the writer of the verses cailcd " The Nine Parts of Speech," that went the rounds of the press some years ago, and of course I had to answer No. In conaequeiv ■ of being asked if I had written them, I thought I would try and produce something similar. As I have not a copy of the origi- na], I have no means of comparing it, but some of my readers may have a copy, and can do so. The part of fipeech that leads the van Is article a, the, or an. The name of anything' s a noun — As cottage, carpet, clocks or clown. An a(lji3ctivc will qualify The noun — as holyy happy, high. Pronouns the place of nouns supply — As he, she, it, hi a, you, or /. The vor!) wiii tell you what is doinj:» — As sl-tbifj, atund'mg, sharing, shoeing. Adverbs to adjectives and verbs Are added — as, he tightly curbs, Or very good, or it is well, As these examples plainly tell. r a" 3C1 A preiK>Brtion sho\ys relation — As to the to^vn or from the station. Conjunctions will connect or join All other words — as leg or loin ; Or phrases thoy will join together — As muddy roads and rainy weather. All interjections show surprise — As Oh or Ally or Bless mt; ci/es. These rules to ev'ry word will reach. And they define nine parts of speech:. POETICAL GEOGRAPHY. EUROPE. The Arctic Ocean, where the icebergs roIT, Far to the north keeps Russia from tlie pole ; The Ural mounts, where falling glaciers shiver^ From whence descends the rapid Ural river Into the Caspian ; all of these divide Russia from Asia, on the eastern side. Tlion from the Caspian to the Black Sea passes The long and lofty mountain range — Caucasus : Tliese latter, sea and mountains, well define The RuRsi.tn bound'ry on tlie southern line. Along the I>anul>e west licr reign extends. Till meeting Aiutria, her empire ondsv 30)5 Then farther north, upon her western side, Is Pr ussia, and the Baltic's stormy tide ; One lirm of which goes east, and pushes inland, To Petersburg — 'tis caliM the Gulf of Finland : The other arm meets many a mountain tide, And pushes north, on Sweden's i^astern side, To Laphnid:— go through this, by Norway bounded, And European Russia is surrounded. Then, Norway, lies a crooked strip of land, North-western Europe's zig-zag stormy strand. From Is or Tray to the Gulf they Sweden call, And Lapland to the Danish capital. Almost an isLind, by two seas surrounded, On the south alone by land, is Denmark bounded. From Denmark to the Adriatic Sea Lies great confederated Germany; Including Holstein, II::n'^ver u-^d Prussia ; (Poor Poland lies between the 'l t and Russia:) Then Meckleuberg upon the Bali'c lies, That does in rank to a Grand Duel v rise. All in a line are Lubec, Hamburg, . Bremen, Three cities, whose inhabitants are l\ ^emen. Then south of Prussia, near the mouL s of Ore, Is Saxony, without one briny shore : Bavaria then to Wurtemberg will join, South-west, near Baden, on the river Rh. \e. 'Mong these you find full many a minor s* vte, From Principality to Landgravate ; I >; !! I IP 1 : ,f I '! . 866 'With oities famed in history and song, Benown'd for arts, or arms, in battle strong: All those, with Austria (foe to the free), Make up confederated Germany. Then south of this is Turkey ; still increase Your journey farther south to ancient Greece ; Washed by the waves of earth's great middle sea, A nation once again, glorious and free I Now sail to Italy ; yon see between us And Cobbett'8 boot,* the famous Gulf of Venice. North-west of Italy is Switzerland : And west, beyond the Alps, is Prance la Oramh. To Holland, north from Franco, pass Boljj^iuni through, Where nations fought at fearful Waterloo ! And west of these, where freedom brightly smiles, Across the wave, are seen the British Isles. South-west of France, between two rolling seas, Is Spain, beyond the tow'ring Pyrenees. Across one kingdom more the land extends, And Portugal the map of Europe ends. ASIA. From Ural mountains oast, to Behring Straits, (Between two worlds the narrow northern gatcH,) Where night and winter roign 'noath artic skies, Far to the north, in north of Asia, lies % * Oobbctt saiist whvre the sun no shadow throws -it nr«3a: And ronchiiig to the mountains of tli moon, With Mouutain Kong, a range extending far. From llivcr Sci-vgai tu Zangviibur. m 1 s ! }' 1 i III'* 111 n I 870 Along the ocean Upper Guinea lies, Whilst at her back the great Kong Mountains rise. Liberia is also on the strand, Where slaves return to see their father-land ; And, west of thiu, Sierra Leone has Behind it the Mandingoes and Foulahs. From Seneganibia, inland, is Banibsirra, And north of these we find the Great Sahara ; Cross'd »nly by the thirsty caravan : All south of this great desert's call'd Soudan, Till you the summit of the mountains gain, Where rise two mighty streams, that flow through many a plain ; Where grow the serpent, crocodile, and tiger ; The streams arc many mouth'd, both Nile and Niger. To Barbary now cross the sandy way, And you have made the tour of savage Africa. NORTH AMERICA. Cold Greenland, Cown'd by Denmark), little worth, Is round the Northern Axle of the earth. Bears, deer and dogs, the sea gulls, (goose and gander,) Make up the oily food of the Greenlunder. • Just at the Arctic Circle Iceland lies. Where llecla's fires light up the northern skies. Soutli-east of Baffins's Bay (no corn nor lumber-land) Is seen the spacious isle, part Cockburn and part Cum. berlaud. 271 From cast to west New Britain spreads her plainSj From Labrador to where the llusHian reigns. And south from Hechi, and the Hudson Straits, To Canada, and the United States. Here's Hudson's Bay, and great McKenzie's flow, And east and west the savage Esquimaux. Between St. Lawrenoc Gulf and ocean's strand, Near Labrador's the Isle of Newfoundland. And east of this is found, extending wide. Grand Bank, an Island just below the tide. South-east is Nova Scotia, then go on. You meet New Brunswick, witli her town, St. Johns Upon the Gulf, the sea, and Fundy's flow. And west Quebec, and then Ontario Which lie upon St. Lawrence and the Lakes, And each a part of tlio Dominion makes. All these I've named, from Bafiin's arctic bay Unto the last, arc under British sway : Extending to the land as chief that rates Among Republics, tlie United States ; Whose coast is found where Gulf and ocean flow, From Brunswick north, aid south to Mexico; And from this coast, fur tow'rds the setting sun, Their rule extends past Western Oregon ; From here along the great Pacifiq go To Guatemala, right through Mexico ; And Guatemala is a central land, Between two oceans, one on either strand ; It almost reaches the Panama Bay, And is the end of North America, I 872 I ii • • SOUTH AMERICA. On South America's most northern lino Now Granada and Venezuela join : Where Orinoco rolls its waters wide, Through many mouths, to meet the ocean's tide : It flows through almost boundless plains, or Llamas, Not far from English, French, and Dutch Guianua. Upon the north these meet the ocean spray ; Their south is buck'd by mountains Acaray. These countries I have named are all you will Observe upon the north of wide Brazil ; An empire nearly large as Europe, and The only empire in this western land. 'Tis here, just at the equinoctial line, Earth's mightiest river meets the rolling brine ; Along a hundred vales, a hundred rivers run, And in the Amazon unite in one I Brazil extends beyond the Capricorn, From Ao'ray mountains southward tow'rds Cape Horn. Throughout the year, the cold scarce falls to zero, Th' imperial oity is Rio Janeiro. "West of Brazil, you find small Uruguay : The Plata here to ocean finds its way. Now cross the river, south or west, and there is The independent State of Buenos Ay res. From river Negro to Delfucgo's island The Indians own each dreary plain and highland ; And Patagonia is the name that's given To this wild land, not favor'd much by Heaven, rn. 373 Now north to Chili — see its narrow land is Between the wide Pacific and hij^h Andes. Beyond it, on the ocean, lies Peru : Bolivia, though, conies out between the two ; Northward and eastward she extends her sway, To large Brazil, and little Paraguay. Now look at Mount Sorata, it is here, The loftiest mountain in this hemisphere. Beyond Peru, upon earth's middle line, Ecuador lies, from Brazil to the brine. By these and Grenada it is surrounded, And now we've seen how all those States are bounded, The lands of Sloth, the Condor, and the Llnma, The Continent is ended at Panama. ENGLAND. Girt by the Tweed, the Cheviot Hills, and Cumberland, Durham and the sea, is wide Northumberland ; York's south of Durham, on the eastern shore, Drain'd by the Ousc and Aire, the Swale and Yore : Beyond the Ilumber, as you journey south, You meet with Lincoln, with its town of Louth : Then long Northampton ; when o'er this you're gone, You enter Cambridge, or small Huntingdon : These two are inland; east, upon the briue, Is Norfolk ; and upon her southern line m ■i IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /> ^^ .^^t^ ^1 1.0 I.I I^|2j8 ■ 50 l"^* Mi im t \& 12.0 2.5 m 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 .4 6" — ► V] •iS^ A I i 374 Is Suffolk; Essex then ; then Kent is seen, With River Thames all flowiniz: wide between. Through many a County this famed river rolls, And through the city of three million souls. From County Kent you can see plainly over To sunny France, across the Straits of Dover. Sussex is west ; if not in too much hurry. Go north to Middlesex, through County Surrey : Back to the sea you'll now the way inquire, South-west to Portsmouth city, in Hampshire. From Hampshire on to Cornwall, west by south. You find seven sen port towns, that end in mouth — - Portsmouth, Weymouth, Exmouth, Teignmouth, and Dartmouth and Plymouth ; near the end of land Is Falmouth; in the sea-washed Cornwall county, Where nature treasures up her min'ral bounty. But let us note : from Hampshire to the last, Dorset and Devon we unnamed have pass'd ; i'rom Devon now we'll pass through Somerset ; Gloucester* and Wilts north-east of this have met, If to the east you'll now the way. enquire, You cross Berks, Buckingham and Hertfordshire ; The last is north of Middlesex, which claims Part of the mighty city on the Thames : And all are famed in ancient page historic. We'll go throiigh Bedford now, across to Warwick, But long Northampton we must cross once more. I ► * Pronounced Gloster, k 375 Which goes from Oxford to the North Sea shore; 3irmin;,'ham's in vV^arwick, east is Lei'stcr, And on tlie west of Warwick is Worcester. And Hereford then (known in historic talcs), And Monmouth too, le on the ah^c of Wales. Shropshire and Staff .rd, then, arc north of these, Still north is Cheshire, so renowned for cheese. And now, 'tis right, before we go up higher, To note tliat on the east is Derbyshire. From Derby, Nottingliam is farther east, Near Rutland, of all English shires the least. Now journey north, who will may travel faster; We'll go to Westmorland, through long Lancaster. The last is where the eastern breezes cool Bring ships across the sea, to Liverpool. As now we've pass'd through England's hills and vales, It comes, in turn, to make the tour of Wales. Through Flint and Denbigh, west to Cnrnarvon, And thence to Anglesea, the bridge cross on; Then back, o'er mounts once famed for Druid mummery, You go through Merioneth, and shire 3[ontgoraery, Then Randon, Cardigan, and then Brecknock, Glamorgan South, Carmarthen, and Pembroke Lie farther west, brush'd by the oconn gales ; And now we've made the tour of England and of Wales*. 1- I 1^ I 1 ' il 376 IRELAND. Antrim is where north eastern breezes fan, Girt by the sea, Lough Neagh and river Bann j Excepting near Belfast, or Lisburn town. And there it joins the sea-wash'd County Down. Then west of Down's Armagh, and east by south, You meet with Counties Monaghan and Louth : To enter Meath, you farther south must go ; Pass County Dublin next, and then Wicklow ; Then Wexford, Watcrford, then Cork and Kerry : (At Ireland's other end is Londonderry.) From Kerry travel north, and note with care, Beyond the Shannon, is the County Clare. Mayo, and Galway then — still north you meet them ; And Sligo lies between the first and Leatrim. Fermanagh next, then northern Donegal, Of Counties on the sea, I've named them all ; And all I've named are so, excepting Monaghan, And having this premised, we'll just go on again. Of Inland Counties, farthest north of all, Is large Tyrone, south-east of Donegal ; Then south is Cavan, Longford next is seen. And then Westmcath, then Counties King and Queer : Kescommon joins upon the north of King, And Tipperary forms its southern wing. The east of Queen's, Kildare. then Carlow and Kilkei Of inland Counties 'tis far south as any, Excepting one, and thus you have in view, With Limerick the last, the Counties thirty-two. :m JueeD : Cilkei HI 377 And farther north is Ulster, Munstcr's south; Connaught is west; then east, to Liffy's mouth, Is Leinster, with her Dublin famed of yore : Thus Ireland's fruitful Provinces are four. t t SCOTLAND. Just where the northern billows wildly roll, Thro' Pentland Frith, far towrds the Arctic pole. Is Caithness cold, by stormy seas surrounded ; Excepting west— there 'tis by mountains bounded ; Still further north, where summer briefly sm'les, Lash'd by the ocean, are the Orkney Isles. Of Caithness west enclosing mountains grand, Cut up by Loughs, and Bays, is Sutherland:' And south of this is Ross, near Isle of Skye j And west, the Hebrides all scatter'd lie ; Then south is Inverness, then large Argyle, With Mull, and famed lona's little Isle. Then Jura, Isla, and where vessels ride, Are Bute and Arran, in the Frith of Clyde. East of Argyle is Perth, then Stirling is in view ; And then Dumbartonshire, and shire Renfrew : Then Ayr, and Wigton, join Kiicadbright,* right O'er Solway Frith, South Britain is in sight. Dumfries, Roxburgh,t Berwick on the Tweed, Are where the Border armies oft did bleed. J • Pronounced Kircudbree. t Rox burro. HMMMH 378 Then Selkirk, Peebles, Lanark, in a row ; And Haddington, and little Linlithgow: All these, where war oft plough'd his deepen'd furrow, Are round the town and shire of Edinburgh. From Edinburgh, 'cross the Frith of Forth, Clackmannan, Fyfe, Kinross, are on the north, From Fyfe to Forfar, 'cross the Frith of Tay : And then Kincardine's in the tourist's way ; Then Aberdeen, and Bronff, then Elginshire is seen. Nairn, then Cromarty, with a Frith between. And now thro' shires and Friths, o'er mounts and lakes, We've made the tour of Scotland, " Land o' Cakes." UNITED STATES. New Brunswick and Quebec, 'neath England's reign, East, west and north join on the State of 3Iaine; New Hampshire touches on her western line. Her southern shore repels the Atlantic brine : New Hampshire's western border joins Vermont, And Massachusetts forms their southern front. And on the south, this from the sea is shut By small Rhode Island and Connecticut; Upon the map you find the latter three On south and east are bounded by the sea. West of a'l tliese, and narrow Lake Champlain, The Empire Delta spreads her wide domain ; ^! i M > 879 Between Connecticut and Jersey New, New York into the ocean pierces through ; Then Pennsylvania lies ahnost a square, From Erie Lake to St:ite of Delaware. West of the last, yet reaching ocean's strand, Around a zig-zag bay is Maryland ; And south of this, but ocean touching on, Virginia lies, the land of Washington. 'Tween these two States the Congress city stands, Whose rule is bounded by two ocean strands. South from Virginia to Savaimah's mouth, You see the Carolinas, North and South. Then Georgia, Alabama, Florida; The last to Cuba goes more than midway ; 'J'hen Mississippi's on the eastern side. And Louisiana west of 3Iississippi's tide. And Louisiana on her west annexes Thfc lone star country, now the State of Texas. Near where the Indian round his war-fire dances. Back from the ocean is the State Arkansas. Missouri tben's upon Missouri's tide, That drains a territory long and wide. Far to the west, a land of many fountains. That foam and tumble from the Rocky mountains. Between this region and the Texas State, Tow'rds Mexico, the Indian tribes locate : Osages and Creeks, Seminoles and Chickasaws, Shawnees, Potwatomees, Cherokees and Chocktaws. Far to the west, close by the setting sua, Behind the mountain rocks is Oregon. ■ !i Ill m^ 380 Then California, famed for gold commotion, Stretches along the North Pacific Ocean. Nevada, Idaho and Washington, All round about the State of Oregon. Then Utah south, and Colorado east — Utah's the land where lives the Brigliam beast 1 Then Arizona and New Mexico, Where Rio Grande and Colorado flow. North's Wyoming, Montana and Dacotah, Nebraska and the State of Minnesota. To bound the flapping of the Eagle's pinion. Far to the north of these, the lion holds Dominion. Iowa state then northward spreads her plains, A fertile land that the Desmontes drains ; Wisconsin lies along the winding course Of Mississippi, reaching near its source. Among the mighty lakes is Michigan, With Indiana touching on her van : That's 'tween Ohio and State Illinois. And on the front of these Kentucky lies : Her front is Tennessee, these lie midway Between Lake Michigan and Florida. State Tennessee,* like Plato's famed Utopia, Has gain'd the largest end of Cornucopia. Where slavery and freedom cross'd their lances, A prelude to the war, is State of Kansas ; * The grorttest corn growing State in the Union. 'Sv, 381 And where the zenith shows the polar star, They've lately bought Alaska from the Czar. A bleak peninsular of rock and glacier, That stretches northward to the iiorth of Asia. Thus in my verse you've ev'ry one that rate? 'Mong Territories and United 8t;ites. CANADA. New Brunswick, States of Main. New Hampshire and Vermont, And wide New York, are on its southern front From Chaleur's Bay and Lake St. Francis, and Throughout this line the boundary is land. The line then through the great St. Lawrence takes Then through the lowest of our mighty lakes ; Then up Niagara, over cliffs so tall, They form the world's sublimest waterfall. The bound'ry line here makes a southern bend, Then west again to Erie's western end. Now northward turn, 'mong lands both bright and fair Through the Detroit, and Lake and stream St. Clare ' ^-till 7wrth through Huron : near its end you vary Your course through islands to the Sault Ste. Marie. Then west, upon the map the line is laid Across the largest lake that God has made ; And here are found, upon each rocky shore, The largest, richest mines of copper ore ; fe I • I mill I 382 And wJicn it leaves the lake, the bound'ry line Is near the parallel of forty-nine. Th(; line we've traced on cither side has written United States or empire of Groat Jiritain ; Except from State of Main to Chaleur's B.iy, For both sides there are under Britisli sway. We've traced the bound'ry now on west and south, From Lake Superior to St. Lawrcnco mouth. This river's mouth is to a irulf increas'd, Which bounds two provinces upon tlie east. The northern boundery is almost lost '3Iong boundless realms of forest, rock and frost : Where hunters 'gainst the furry tribes make war, From Lake Superior to Labrador. The turbid Ottawa by flow and fall Descends and disembogues at Montreal : The largest river which that monarch claims, Whose palace rises on the bariks of Thames ; That is, the largest stream whose flow ing tide lias British land throughout on either side. The world's next greatest cataract is liere ; Second but to Niagara is Chaudierc. Thus, in the largest Province in the world, Is where the mightiest streams o'er rocks are hurl'd. Vast rafts of timber, cut by axe and saw, Are yearly floated down the Ottawa. We'll also note, along with all the rest, It cuts the Province into cast and west. ■I' [ f 383 And now you have, in geoj^rapliic lay, The bounds of cast and western Canada. These were our b )unds until confederation Made us a crrcat Dominion and a Nation. Now Nova Scotia and New Brunswick claim As well as we, the old Canadian name. And also Manitoba, lately plann'd, And all the rest of wide Prince Rupert's Land. And Newfoundland, and I'ttle Edward's Isb, Will likely soon within our Union smile : And large Columbia, and Victoria too, Their lonely isolation will eschew, And claim with us confederate relation, Giving increase of pow'r and population. We on the great St. Lawrence and the lakes, Gave up our name, which the Doniinion takes. For nearly thirty years as one we grew, But now, as once before, we are in two. Ev'ry Province holds a local pow'r, From Ottawa, where Senate buildings tow'r. Our central Government's wide domination. Extends throughout the whole confederation. 11 RHYMING RULES FOR SPELLING. I was gratiftod some time after this was published on being told by a young lady, then a student at the Nor- mal School, that she and her companion, a glass-mate, '} ' 884 were rolicvcd from a very unpleasant predicainent by remembering one of these rhyming rules, as they were able in consequence to answer a question which no others of the class were able to do. Rule 1. All wordi% of but one syllable Must end in double f, s, 1 ; That is, when single vowels lead, But not when consonants precede. Exceptions — of, if, as, us, is, And as, was, yes, this, thus, and his. Rule 2. But other consonants don't double ; So this in writing saves us trouble. Exceptions — add, ebb, butt, egg, odd, And err, inn, bunu, purr, buzz, and dodd. Rule 3. Words ending in the vowel ^, When plural, change it for an i] When by a consonant 'tis led ; If not, an i won't do instead ; Comparatives, superlr ' , es, past participles too, And persons of the verbs ; for these the rule will always do. The present participle ing, Though, with it y does always bring. r* I 385 /<> 1 11 When a vowel p^ocs before the y, 'TLs seldom ever changed to i : Exceptions — p'ly, when past, \» paid ; From laij and nay come laid and iaid. Rule 4. When words that end in y do add Another syllable, and had A consonant before the y, It mostly then is changed to i; Excepting when a vowel will Begin the added syllable. When a vowel next the i is ranged, In such a case it is not ( anged. Thus, as you sec, from coy cony"*s eoyless ; From boy, couies boyish ; joy, has joyless. Rule 5. Monosyllables and words accented on the last. And ending with a consonant that has a vowel pass'd, That consonant will double, when a syllable they add ; Beginning with a vowel, or the spelling will be bad ; As loity has witty ; win, has loinning ; Abet, abettor ; thin, has thinning. But if the accent does recede, Or if a diphthong does precede, Without being doubl'd, consonants will do : This rule will hold the English language through. When toil adds ing, nc double I you see; When maid adds en, it wants no double d. i i t r i 88G Rule 6. When words do end in any double letter, Excepting I — you'll always find it better To leave it double — f guided by this rule) — When adding to them ness, less, ly or ful, As stifflt/ or carelesdy, successfully this shows, Whilst harmhssnesi and carelessness will not the oppose. Rule 7. When words in silent e are ended, And ness, less, ly or ful's appended, They keep the c, except in duly, And some such words, as awful, truly Rule 8. When meiit is added to the e, Don't cut it ofiF, to stay 'tis free ; Unless preceded by a ^, Its sometimes then cut off you see; As judgment and abridgment tell, Ahatmient, diastisement as well. Whene'er a consonant is nigh, Then ment will change the^ to i; As merry's changed to merriment ; Thus y its place to i has lent. Rule 9. When words that end in silent c, Take able or ible, you're fveo rule 387 To cut it off— 'tis not defensible, As in hhtmahle, curable, sensible, But if c or soft g comes before, in such case The e has a riijht to remain in its place ; In peace it remains, in pencenbh, rangeable. And without any change, you find it in changeable. Rule 10. But then, 'tis quite another thing, If to it comes an ish or ing ; Then e is lost, as seen in dancing, Slavish, Jihaciiih, prudish, prancihg, Rlle 11. Two words are oft made into one ; Spell them as though each stood alone. • You'll see at once that this is riirht. In gashouse, glasshouse, and skylight. Exceptions — words in double / — They would be awkward thus to spell, And notice this you plainly will In welfare, wifid, and ftdjil. Learn well what I have here been tellinir. If you would know the rules of spelling. 888 THE DEBTOES' AND CEEDITOES' CIECLE. The following was sent for publication to the Markham Economisty with the accompanying Ve- marks by way of explanation : I was once in a company where the conversa- tion tm*necl upon the relation of debtor and credi- tor, and it was observed that the payment of one debt often provides the means, which, passing through several hands, is used in the payment of many others. To illustrate this, one of the com- pany observed that a case occurred once on Yonge Street, a few miles from Toronto, when some half dozen neighbours met fortuitously in a tavern, and in a short time they began the business of dunning. One asked paj^ment of his account of one of the party, who in his turn applied to another of the company who owed 1dm, that he might pay the first. The third one had no money, and applied to another; and so it went on till they found, by a little explanation, that each one present was a debtor to some one of the party, and each one also found that one of the party was a debtor to him, and that by one of them paying 1^ l!'' 389 :rcle. to the ing Ve- tiversa- l credi- of one passing Qent of e com- Yonge ne half tavern, less of lunt of iecl to bat he noney, on till ch one party, ty was oaying a few shillings receipts could be exchanged all round, which was done, and all the accounts were settled. This incident suggested the following verses : A. owed a debt of fifty pounds, 'Twas to his neighbour B., And B. himself did also owe A debt to Doctor C, Who'd sent to B. a heavy bill Per medicine for his spouse ; C. owed to D., the publican, Where he did oft carouse. B., in his turn, was due to E., The brewer, for his beer. Who was, again, in debt to F., For goods the current year. F. owed to G., a lawyer, who Laid on his charges thick — While he to tailor H. was due. Where he had dealt on tick. H. in his turn's in debt to I., The baker, for his bread, Who owes to miller J. for flour Sent by his servant Ned ; I'PA > 890 TVTio, in his turn, had purchased com And wheat from farmer K., And from the baker he, of course. Expected cash to pay. The baker, then, to tailor H. Sends off an urgent dun ; And quickly, all along the line, The dunning letters run. All urged their claims with earnestness Until it came to A., But he had also got a claim, For land, 'gainst fanner K, From K. to A. the debts went round. And here the circle met. To change receipts is all they need To clear them all of debt. They chance to meet one night, and then They all, in talking, found How matters stood, and they agreed To give receipts all round. So A. to K. gave his discharge, K. handed one to J. ; And so receipts passed round the ring— The last was B. to A. 391 om And all were pleased — each one was free- Aud ended all their i^other; And thus we all in business see How one hangs on another. mess id, I id then ed L'lng- IF ALL THE CLOCKS, &c. If all the clocks in all the world Did all together stand, And all struck twelve at once, the sound Would be so very grand. If all the horns in all the world Did all together sound, 'Twould wake the people up from sleep For many piles around. When all the bulls in all the world Did all together roar, A noise like that was never heard By any one before. ' • If all the pigs in all the world ' Should all together squeal, And you were in the midst of them, How queerly you would feel. ! 11 i^ 392 If all the dogs in all the world Should all together hark, To such a noise as that you'd not Wish very long to hark. If all the turkeys in the world Should all together gobhle, Away from such a din as that You'd quickly wish to hobble. If all the bells in all the world Should all together ring^ The dings and dongs a mighty clang To ev'ry ear would bring. But if the clocks, bulls, horns and bells, Dogs, turkeys, all should mingle, ! then the climax would be reacli'd Of clang, and roar, and iingle ! JACK TO TOM. How easy, Tom, it is to pay The money when you have it, eh ? But when you haven't, and can't got it, Then it is that you are fretted. And then comes the hated protest, Always leaving you with low zest. (I J 'I ' 393 How pleas'd the notary will waddle, Protest fees within his noddle, Knowing thoy will reach his pocket ; As to your distress, he'll mock it. Don't sign your name to I. 0. U. If you can't meet it when 'tis due. But many, without ever thinking Of the danger great of sinking, Go into unwise exj^enses. Which, to see the end, no lens is Needed hy any hut yourself To see you'll soon he hroken delf, When you'll he wrecked among the breakers, Who are the legal undertakers At the fun'ral of your credit. While they jocundly have sped it. Then all extravagance avoid Which comes from meanness mixed with pride. And into which so many slide. YESTERDAY, TO-DAY AND TO-MOEROW. To-day is always between Yesterday and to-morrow ; To-day is always here With its freight of joy and sorrow. i 394 All the days that Lre pass'd Were yestcnini/ each when done ; And every day was to-morrow, Changed to to-thiy in turn. To-morrow is always coming, Yesterday always pass'd, To-day is never gone, Though going away so fast. Life is a string of days ; None know when the string may break, ; Then, while it is to-day, The offer of mercy take. I GAZED UPON THINE AUBURN TRESSES. I gazed upon thine auburn tresses, Flowing o'er thy forehead fair. And eyes as bright as dew that presses On the leaf of flowret rare. To deck thy form, by nature singled. All the graces lent their art. While loveliness with beauty mingled All their sweetness to impart. 395 reak, ; ESSES. IS Love, no more in quiet sleeping, Burn'd, a wild tumultuous llamo, Ev'iy norve in passion steeping, Mingling ecstaey with pain. He seized thine image, which enshrining In my wildly throbbing breast. While in dreams thy form entwininj?. To that throbbing heart was press'd. And to me thy faith was plighted— Pledged a ringlet of thy hair ; But that pledge and vow were slighted. Yes, I found thee false as fair. If thou'dst been but what I thought thee, Then thou'dst not so soon have turn'd ; Tho' a hundred suitors sought thee, Thou their off 'rings would have spurn'd, And remained in faith unshaken, True to me aud to thy vow ; But no more on earth to waken— ^ Would those thoughts were buried now ! Tho' deeply wrong'd, tho' thou hast given To another what was mine — Tho' hope is from my bosom riven, And another now is thine— i 1 l' * i \ 39G Yet too holy was the fooling E'er to wish revenge — ah, no ! Thus I pray to Heaven kneeling, May she never feel such woo ! Fare thee well, and that forevor — Yes, forever fare thee well ! WouL. my trusting heart had never Known thy false inspiring spell ! THE MIRACLE OF THE LOAVES AND FISHES. The Word made flesh — the Son of Man — God with us — Immanuel — Fed a host with fish and hread, As the sacred v/riters tell. The lirhuf Vine, the living Bread, Fed the people, hungry grown, After Ho had heal'd their sick, And the precious word had sown. He bless'd the loaves, and brake, and gave To His apostles standing round. Who also broke, and then supplied The thousands seated on the ground. 397 As Jesus broke, the bread incres^ed, And so with Peter, James and John, And all the others, as they broke The bread and fish, the growth went on. When all had eaten, more remained Than when the loaves at first were bless'd, And then the Saviour gave command To go and gather up the rest. From this we learn a maxim wise^ In abundance do not waste— Ood's bounty use but don't abuse. Lest unto poverty you haste. By this command the Saviour taught ^^ Strict economy and care. " Nothing wasted nothing lost " Should be our motto ev'rywhere. The more they ate the more was left ; As the people here were fed On material bread of earth— And so 'tis with the Zie;^^ 5r^^, For no consumption can reduce Gil^rff T^^r? '*^'' by Heaven supplied- Cxiven for the life of those Who trust and hope in Him that di^d. add NOW THERE REMAINS ONE DAY THE LESS The author was asked by a pious lady friend, some two years ago, to supply what she had forgotten of a favourite hymn, written by an eminent Church of England min- ister, whom she had known in Ireland many years before. She repeated seven lines, all that she could recollect, which I wrote down^ and, pursuing the strain, finished the second verse and added four others. I may observe that the lady expressed herself well pleased with the addition. ** Now there remains one day the less To spend in this dark wilderness ; One day the less divides me now From Him to whom archangels bow. If I have lived by faith in fear, A stranger and a pilgrim here, I've one day less my foes to dread," One less the narrow way to tread. Which leads to life where angels sing The glories of our Saviour King — Where is no night nor twilight grey. For Heaven is one tternal day. 899 No sun is there, tho' here so bright — ' The Lord our God Himself gives light ; And equal to the angols then The saints shall be angelic men. And where their hearts were while below, While they did to the Spirit sow. And laid up treasure with the just. Where there is neither moth nor rust. Where is no grief, nor sigh, nor pain, But love and joy eternal reign ; For this they have the living Word, And shall be ever with the Lord. THE MEREY HEART. In August, 1865, one of ray nieces, who was about leaving home for boarding school, handed me her Album, and pointing to a picture in it, ** The Merry Heart," asked me for some verses in reference thereto I wrote : The Bible says a merry heart Doth make the visage glad ; The Bible says of merry hearts A constant feast thev had. ''^ -II 400 The Bible says a contrite heart The Lord will not despise ; The Bible says the pure in heart To see the Lord shall rise. The Bible says keep well thine heart, It doth life's issues hold ; The Bible says the heart is where Its treasure is untold. The Bible says with perfect heart Obey the Lord above ; The Bible says with all thine heart The Lord thy Maker love. Dear Cassi^, think of these good words When far from home you stay ; And may it be yom* highest aim To walk in wisdom's way. Il : 401 JEANIE WATSON'S CONCEET. PBOM THE OWEN SOUND " TIMES." At the close of one of the pieces on Wednesday evening, Mr. William A. Stephens, who is irrepressible as an impromptuist, gave the following: It was Jubal invented the harp, And the organ— but let us rejoice In a far sweeter instrument still- It was God who invented the voice. And at the close of the concert he repeated to some friends the following, which he was just going to give at the end of " Scots wha hae," but was prevented by the enthusiastic cheering : When piano and voice rose together How grandly they swell'd through the dome ! While Miss Watson and Hardie together Gave the soul-stirring music of Home ! And when they sang the mighty dead In " Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled," ^■^^^■HiiVB 402 ON A MEETING AT BROCK'S MONUMENT, QUEENSTON, IN 1840. The monument had been shattered by the noto- rious Lett, who, having placed some barrels of gunpowder in the opening at the base, caused its explosion. I was the last but two, I was informed afterwards by the keeper, who had ascended to the top, which was done by a spiral staircase inside. Having admired the grandeur of the scenery and written my name on the plaster inside, I left for the Falls, and while there the outrage was com- mitted. I came back +o Queenston next day, and at the request of some of the principal inhabitants I wrote an account of the explosion to the New York Albion f which was published in that paper. I may observe that here I met at the hotel, for the first and last time, the Hon. Michael Foley, whb afterwards acted so prominent a part in Cana- dian politics. He was then a young man, and at that time wrote for the Toronto press, and he sent an account of the affair to a newspaper in that city. We each read our pieces to each other, and of course were mutually complimented on th« style in which w« had written. 403 The outrage aroused the indignation and pat- riotism of the country, and it was determined that a new monument, superior in every respect to the old, should be erected, and it was to carry out this purpose that the meeting above referred to was convened, which was one of the most numer- ous and imposing ever held in that part of the country. The following lines were written and published at the time in a Montreal paper : \i Hark ! what means that earthquake shock ? Terror asks, with sudden dread ; 'Tis the riven tomb of Brock Shatter'd o'er the mighty dead. Brock, the merciful and brave. Who died our soil from foes to free ; What vandal villains mar thy grave, Great chieftain of our chivalry ? Dark as midnight's darkest shroud Enveloping the mount and tomb, See yon fire-created cloud, Offspring of the thunder's womb ! 9 404 Dark's the cloud, but darker yet Must be the depredator's soul ; Infamy has claimed him — Lett His name be on the blackest scroll. How vile to desecrate his bed Who made his country's heart rejoice — Who oft his victor legions led, And fell amid the battle's voice. 'Tis the hour of early dawn — Darkness mingles yet with day ; From the mounfc the cloud is borne By the western winds away. Still stands the stately tomb of Brock, By a grateful people given ; But the desolating shock Its lofty shaft has cracked and riven. Some months have passed — see, yonder line Of stately steamers passing by Have come, with banner and ensign. Led by our naval chivalry ! Breasting Niagara's rolling flood. Which is the floating boundary Of two empires, one in blood, And both are mighty, brave and free ! 405 Hear the martial music throw Stirring strains o'er land and wave, Then sink to music's sweetest woe To sing the mem'ry of the brave ! Now the steamers reach the shore, Thronging near the storied height Which had drunk, in days of yore, Blood of heroes slain in fight ! On what purpose are they bent ? 'Tis to pledge themselves they throng, With a nobler monument To repair the hero's wrong. I ' ON THE DEATH OF THE HON. THOMAS D'AECY McGEE. WRITTEN ABOUT THE TIME, BUT NOT PUBLISHED BEFORE. What sounds of sorrow fall From cot and Senate hall. Thro' our Dominion land — The great McGee is dead ! Slain by th' assassin's lead ! The deed by hatred plann'd Was consummated by a fell and Fenian hand ! I 1; ^^qp^Hwi 406 *Twas in full etrength and power Within the fatal hour, That heard his manly voice In glorious dehate Support the good and great Confederation cause, *Mid list'ning Senate's rapturous applause ! That our McGee was slain. Shot through that wondrous brain — As lightnings flash'd the tale Of this fell Fenian's deed, Which made the patriot bleed ! Shock'd myriads grew pale — Then rose a startled nation's angry wail I As Abel's blood had speech The ear of God to reach To list'ning ear divine, McGee's red blood will tell Of this dark work of hell — And punishment condign Will overtake the deed — " Vengeance," He says, "is mine !" 407 THE WISE MEN OF THE EAST. 1. Men of wisdom from afar Leave behind the rising sun — Guided by a new-made star, To Jerusalem they come. II. " Where is He that has been born, Judah's young and royal King ? We have seen His glory dawn, And we here our off 'rings bring." III. Herod then in trouble brought All the scribes, and asked to know Where Messiah might be sought ; Then he bade the wise men *' Go IV. Seek the child, and bring me word ; I would also worship him." When the crafty king they heard In haste they left for Bethlehem. 408 ▼. What joy ! again the eastern star Appears to guide them on their way ; As they enter at his door There the infant monarch lay ! VI. Down the wondering sages fall — Do him homage and adore ! Worship him as Lord of All, And present their precious store. VII. Myrrh, and frankincense, and gold, Each a costly offering, From their treasures they unfold, And present them to their King. VIII. Warn'd of God, they then returned To their land another way. Fiercely Herod's anger hurn'd. And he madly sought to slay IX. Jesus, rival of his reign. By his cruel, fierce decree All the infant born were slain But Messiah — ^where is He ? m 409 X. Tar beyond the tyrant's wile Mary and her child have fled, To the region of the Nile, Till their enemies are dead. REJOICE IN CHRIST JESUS. Philippians iv. 4, 9. Rejoice in Christ Jesus-yes, always rejoice, And show moderation in conduct and voice Be careful for nothing, the Lord is at hand- A^ith pray^L. and thanksgiving make humble ciemand. And the peace, yes, of God, He has given His word, All things that are honest, just, lovely and true- All thmgs that are pure and of good report do Yes, thmk of these things, and of vltue and piaise, And think, too of Paul ; also follow his ways ehote '' ^^"^ ^•°"- ^^» this be' your Rejoice in Christ Jesus~yes, always rejoice I 410 IN GOD'S PUEE SIGHT. In God's pure sight 'tis worse to disoboy What God has said, than aught that man can say; And more 'twill please to keep His written law Than any rule that man or men can draw. Then if the creed be just as God has said, Who needs it, for within the Book 'tis read ; But if within the Book it be not found, Where is the warrant to believe it sound ? Though it be true, no truth that man has given Is needed to make sure God's way to Heaven. And when such tests on human souls are laid The narrow waj^ they block and barricade. THE END. ■ ' • I given iven. laid e. can say ; n law V. I, id;