/6L. £>. P.
THE
GO LD H INTER
%, %toci) of tftt |1 rt&tnt Cimt.
b1 Ami el lawhexce. es^
ub wheretor* think tli» fl'Tsv-y <.«»uur.*ius aid*.
Tao lo'inwiiv- murmurs, and the vallny'a pride ;
Why thiak wc tli-":~+'-;«»% pleasing to behold
Thau drear;, deserts if they lead to gold 5
••Sad \r#« tun hour aad luskJeM was the tiny,
• When. first from Sahlraz' wail*? I beat wy way.
.'oltJ ve
it o r r ii i, ».7 h i:
V, . RTFITA. GEORGIA
: r tJlR -.''ZXZT £ JO'. "iS'.iX •.»? sv.-E*
1 r 5 o. •
THE
GOLD HUNTER.
H Stori) of \\)t |)resfirt fintf.
BY SAMUEL LAWRENCE, ESQ.
Oil, wherefore think the flowery mountain's side.
The fountain's murmurs, and the valley's pride;
"Why think we these less pleasing to behold
Than dreary deserts if they lead to gold ?
"Sad was the hour and luckless was the day,
When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way.'—Collins.
MARIETTA, GEORGIA.
PUBLISHED AT THE SIGNET & JOURNAL OFFICE;
1 8 5 5.
in
COL. GEORGE D. RICE
RIGHT WORSHIPFUL DEPUTY GRAND MASTER
OF THE THIRD MASONIC DISTRICT
OF THE GRAND LODGE OF GEpRGIA
All A BLIGHT 'TOKEN OF ESTEEM AND IN ACKNOLBDGBMB9TT
OF" FRATERNAL KINDNBSSS
T«XS STORY IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED
BT HIS OBLIGED FRIEND
AND BROTHER
THE AUTHOR.
ADVERTISEMENT
TO THE READER.
M^st of the following pieces have already been, pub-
Ikh^d.in tW Masonic Journal and Signet <fe Journal. It was
Conceived, in fhe«oa"t of the longer Poem, (' The Gold ifuiater')
that in its "erial form, a fair estimate could not be made of its
design and pftope, cs a connected story—hence its issue ?n the
present shape. It is on experiment—being, if the author is ndt
mistalien, a noVtelty in Masonic* Literature. The intelligent
Brothei* will not fail to recognize the us^made of the symbols
and 'tenets of Masonry, while the Author has endeavored to im¬
part %o the whole a moral directed to the prevailing Yice of our
Time. It hq£ f»een his cfesire to minister to the taste of his
BAefhr en:—how far he has succeeded, it will be theirs to decide.
Tn the effort itself, he has had some rewabd.
Marietta, Ga., Oct. 1, 1855?
THE GOLD HUNTER.
Q—
I.
Not store of gold, nor put ward show,
Nor envied rank which these bestow,
Nor honorBof a boasted birth
True merit on the soul may cast;
The value of a man, at last,
Depends upon his private woi-th.
For whom the treasures of the mine,
In countless heaps, do glittering shine,
The brilliant diamond shed its ray,
And slaves, obsequious, give way; .
Broad lands, extending far and wide,-
Jfake yearly offerings to his pride,
And costly palaces do rise
In stately Bplendour to the skies,.
Cannot be said true-wealth to own:
But he, who keeps a cheerful heart,
And practices the golden art,
No change of fortune can destroy,
Of sharing in another's joy;
Who smiles at what the world calls great,
And frauds which Fashion's laws create,
In his own breast the secret hae
Of true and lasting happiness,
True wealth's possession hath alone.
II.
Not he, who owns nor slave, nor land,
Nor shining ingotsholdain hand;
Whose name, unknown, unheard on 'Change,'
To monied lords sounds harsh and strange;
4
THE GOLD HUNTER.
"Who lives retired from daily strife
Of what is called successful life,
^A^^i^lypwns one stiver.mme „ 0 ,,
, bMw*>U3{Ji rf j
Should, in strict truth, be counted poor:
But he, whom crushing Sorrow bows,
Prone to thedark and narrdw house,
With locks turned gray before their tiinc,
». And early fall from manhood's prime,
B enifwith *thV\f<i'es Vfealth ieanndt' # afro!"
FroiffTo^l^'^b^srfnk6r'frhiiS;;ldrd;'!'*» =•'
And tired'^PalVthJS'iiiffe-dfsplaysf
To win M to7itS'empty £ysj i ^ " f -n< i j
Ah, he true povSt^y'kMW^'ihOl'e^fef to >
And yeV^ill MMrtheifdlBfr'pu^ll®'''-'??'
With Va^er'lieai't/knd "slight'the "ti-tte;- ;- ?
Thou^lieirHry'3ayf dMh'fctMl disclose*■-
His fataPferm^abil ifcS'Wtf£k V'-Sriijid
Wii- >a
Yet,' tb'i^e^e.Stf'i^s'hot '^iVeif,"®-" *-««»•*:?
To makVo!^ ^arffiuHsMlf^'d Heavifi^—
For, as mosaic pavement* W'2ar4 ±r"#
Both white'and' Wack","a^f er&ftd sqiai-e^,
And" passing'o®5eVl^"^eciffiei^d'f&w/
The Craffeinan 'treaM Sn'^e'h'1 1fp&8eJ
Yet views, tsifti pleaMd and "gfaiefhl' eie.
The t'ess^atedJ^di^er't3gk'"5
While,evQr/in^th'e 'ml^V'dtrtB'djlSite
" ^ht 1i v e-pomt"star," w?th iP'ysilc5Yay f'
So true i^fig);!hat^ujliab lif£ ^i;/
With checquered ^00 d'£mfl~'ill'H'rife p
Encircled, 1 "■*
Relief unhoiighi' 'imds0evel'y~''tar^J 1
As providence, with gracious smile,
Prfesi&£| b'%" every htdfffi'the' whife; - ^
» .vUB'i" (ti ,«,<>.JJ^fc^lcts S 1 ,.V
'•(,^es?,^At6^!'3fe'3ia?iiadj*hftply', trite£ //
v '^AhhliilFctly^^^r^he-hiifid^iekcit^i-«.« <■."?
Sung by the bai'd of ancient Rome,
THE " G OLD1 HUNTElt. %
~ J iM;il /•■{ u Jr'T.l.i, . uifj ,„,J fy
To whom Moece^as gave.a^hon^e^ ;n ^
Though owned, for ages long before,
As part of true Mas6hic lore;
But many 'i'tiuthi from- frequent 'ufcfc,'1 f
Hath'lost 1fhe p6'Werij6 product-111 -f -'''f
*' Th'e designed tOIbear,' ' j,i U
AddTkfls'uhheededoh the 'ear ?' r'« 'I !
Until, likb tree'by'tempest atript J' ^
Of leaf and twig/and rcuMy 'whipt,
Revives its-sap/and yield^ntfew' -u'r 1
Bud, blossom, frOifc&ge "tof thfe'-vleW'(<*} «j f
The!h'e'a:rt, by' 'schooling7 Harrow tawght,1 *
Unto fteVfenffcgy fs brought* ' rd? '-ml/.
And learns in sihiple thing to read " -
The truth it' onfee did little hfeed.'"•1'1
And, 'tistIie''Pofet*s honoured part ■>■
To stir dri'ew' 111 e huthan heart—' < ; ■
A noble mission!—lofty 'ami—; fa I -< t
Though one/ 'aids/ T dare hot claiiri
But he, whose' wefl-insffufcted sight "? " d
HatH'me? the' 'heirdglyphic' bright/' - ' ■-
Only'to:Craft'smentr'ue'dhplayed,"• ''
Knoivs well'the'Obligation -laid
On Brethren, 'still to luge then-'igllt, -•
And still to help dispense: the Light.1 {'>
.)'■ : "I J. -]/ l;l ;"r'' ,;j
.< 1 v.
i '•■I r !" , >f4.-t ,j. ,. •
ThigfcsiM J-it^lffI.6a^ly.f«»5,J,.,.JL;;. .
Haitklittle.ift't--to plea.sethe<eaj; ji, ({V( -
nd yet^ita simple., Awoyds,may teach 4 fj
■Soine. heart at .'higher ends t.o,,reach.
Brother! whose eye ;-ests on this page,
Whether its words,,tliine ear engage., #
Be thine ^he task, tlie truth to own,
And in,ita piissipn,bearit an. v ^
And if, in passing 'round it's truth / .
From youth,to ago, from age to'youth,'
• Thorn chance, to throwa single spark
--'Ofeohi&rt where all now is dark,
6
THE GO ID HUNTER.
To know thou add'st a joy to ine.
'Twill not he less a joy to thee,
VI.
'Twas since to hearts insatiate
The 'Land of promise'* ope'd its gate];
Where Chesapeake, with freshening wave,
Its Western shore doth bounteous lave;
Not far from where, on gentle rise,
The 'monumental city'f lies,
A simple cottage quiet stood,
Its face reflected in the flood.
It was a spot which well might claim
More than a passing thought and name,
For from its porch the eye could trace
The city's spires in their place,
Far shooting upward", and on high
Sharp cut against [the lucent sky—
And nearer still Mc-Henry's fort
With bi'istling cannon guard the port,
Its flag of stars and stripes unfurled,
The pride and hope of all the_world—
While the fresh wave, with gentle beat,
Kissed the green turf it leaped to meet
Ornee it was—but not with art ■
By money bought in Fashion's mart;
But 'round its door the hand of Taste
The simplest ornaments had placed;
And trellised vines crept full and high,
Flecked with bright flowers of various dye,
Whose rare and exqiiisite perfume
Just breathed "each chastely furnished room.
VII.
At little loss could any be
To tell whose taste he there did sec.
As, through the open casement nigh,
The fairest vision met the eye
Of maiden in her youthful bloom,
* California. -{-Baltimore.
,TH§ GOLD HUNTER. 1
The chiefest ornament of the room,
Though many ornaments he found
In walls of that boudoir around.
Scarce more than eighteen summers warm
Had shed their graces o'er her form,
Whose light proportions fair displayed
The line of beauty perfect made;
But yet upon her beauteous face
Appeared a slightly pensive grace.
'Twas not the kind by sorrow wrought,
The hateful sign of painful thought—
'Twas only the minted mark of Mind,
By the great Maker's hand designed,
The solemn seal by Deity set
Of Intellect wherever met,
To prove to all, since Eve's sad morrow,
The fatal truth—'Knowledge is Sorrow.' (J)
For, added to external grace
Of shapely form and beauteous face,
Nature had blessed her with a mind
At once capacious and refined;
A heart whose every feeling pure
Owned .the least touch of Nature's power,
And turned with sympathy to those
Who bow beneath Life's wearing woes.
This made her move with graceful ease,
That never failed all hearts to please;
So that by all, both rich and poor,
She still was called—sweet Leonore.
Yes, she was beautiful—as flowers
Are beautiful—as, in Night's hours,
Stars are beautiful—songbirds—all
Of Nature's works we lovely call—
One of those visions rare, serene/ '
Once only in a life-time seen,
Which linger yet upon the mind,
Leaving all other forms behind—
The standard, unto which, unheard,
All other beauties are referred.
the gold hunter.
v Y1./-..... . , ,v f' ,'v-
The faste.ylbliii1d'eete3 the cottage door.
Upon the soil yhiehjay' bj&fpve. ■" ^ ^
Partly aside from "where the view " ' ,
u c, irj >.( £.? i.i.T; .01 >*•*<>"
Was most.dipx-t\the .casement jthwT/g;!^
A/p5yercha(d, there,foiistru^d't"?-) j~.
And fiowerg aroupd, in -lflyiah /loom, j t
The shrrrjyhery.^ed.^th pe,rfiyr)e.
The tp/eo^as. fa.^tle^-h.ere .djsplayed^
For. pijpgied, fp Wl? jlight.an(ishad4t-j
That, iatv thpju>,t,tfest Sjjmiper'a day, tjfj fc
Wljp^iapced witjhip, that bower to stray
Of light a ray could not. wish "less,., ,,
1^. ni.M r.-U-, -a.f v.?
]N or yet of shade a shadow more;
But full cohteht file sward to press, ' .
„ J>"! yjj rtf
To reverie hmjself gave o er;
hk 5 /.I J I T* »i >7- oT
V IX
jW'i'f InH a vib-d-Auai hni f«kej nfT
To Leonorethis spot was dear,, " „
»'?r»hn/IO-?
Her mind.was lietd in grateful thrall,..
Full many an pour, hv the page" . .
! ■■ I tjVf ' .5 . il . , fii ff fm'/fi /
Of long departed Bard, or Sage,,
••■v. '[ n;A./. U. -T, :.jf ). • T.yOh ,i ;
\V ho haply left his garnered thought,
^oiit hp) am >1 <? *0 7/.-.!
Bv after ages to x».e, bought., , , .
■ L r. }=;?.. A >-id .1 *1 •//
And, valued lor the worth which passed
Unheeded, 'wliile'lils Ii|e did last.
Twasliere^at {deL'ant'^
She wont to sit" and wajtclithe tide /
And ,
Whi|p,_cy eijoi^ts wipg-a|onPj y f^
Had lavishe/011 h eij, wps/lie bland w-4
And soptjiing ppwe^pf ypc^l,^^
And often.^jiea^ tlie/u^ihf^^pn^-,
^S$mbSW mx
S-j rid * i vir. tsdla If A
THE (SOLD JHUNTEfl.-
9
And Wish the breeze would not prevail
To waft him guicklyo'erthp Bay, t*- I
While listening to hev witching lay.
But more than theae-r-than $11—'twas here,
Rove's tones had first imprpsped b?.r -®sr». ft -
And, 'mid. %e shrubbery of that JjoW«rp1r
She finit had pwnod its mystic power, r
TV as here, with maiden -blush, jdjeJig^ed,
Her maiden faith yy lately plighted, ^
And he, the cherished pne,became.
Lord of her heart, her thought, her name.
Ah, gentle maid—ab.Teonore,
That heart shall harbour pe&^nomora.
!- ■ t * T H £y i^bt f r ••• i .♦.
Twas eventide—IS early Spring f ^ 'r
Calmly the Bay wis slumbering—
The young moon struggled in the West
To keep herheam upon itsbfeast, "
WhileHesper'e star.itf'rival pride";
Maintained,its station at her side-;
Though sunken, still the god of day
Flushed the fair sky .with'mellow. ray,
And faint athwart the Twilight dew
The budding trees their .shadows -threw.
Fair Lconore", within her bovrer,"1 r
Alone andpen«iye,musedthe hour,""
And ever .and,anon, ike air \
Resounded "to her soft guitar- •
Though pleasing,,the effect was sad,
Like that from buried musio had,
When, after lapse of many years,
-'"Old memories stir the brain td'tears.
NotSueh as fall without a" sigh, r
Their source ho deeper thynthe "eye,
For these distil like gentle rain,"
Kor leave behind a thought of paid; r
But those are Wrung frdtn.SOUrees lower,
THE G01D HUNTER.
To force from where they lie inurned,
Heart, soul and brain are all concerned.
Thus every note seemed only meant
To sad thoughts th' accompaniment.
Ah, what had wrought such change in one,
Whose life was innocence alone?
Had he, to whom she gave her heart
Deceived her in that vital part ?
But hark! she sings—and these thejwords
Which flow in un'son with the chords.
Ah, oouldst thou know how warm, how true,
This bosom beats with love for thee—
Could I unfold to open view
This heart, in all its verity,
Thou wouldst not sigh afar to roam,
Allured by wealth's delusive plea,
But thou wouldst make this spot thy home,
That love were wealth enough for thee.
Not all far-famed Francisco's, gold,
Nor gems from Peru's richest mine,
A hundred thousand tallies told,
Could equal then this wealth of thine.
For those may "by themselves be bought,
And fill the gaze of every eye,
But from the heart alone is brought
The wealth which gold can never buy.
Scaroe had they ceased, when with a bonnd,
A youth had clasped her form around.
And fondly gazing on her face,
A moment held in his embrace.
In simple garb of sable hue,.
With not an ornament in view,
Save where on breast of spotless white,
A Master's jewel caught the light,
THE GOLD HUNTER.
il
There was a something still which drew
The hearts of all who saw unto,
And left the wish to know yet more '
Of him whose presence owned such power.
Lithe in his form, his limbs were knit
By exercise to labor fit, m 1
And in their movements free displayed
The ease by youthful vigour made;
And yet they owed enough to Time,
To tell of Manhood's early prime.
His face was cast in Grecian mould,
With features slow in growing old;
And on his brow and in his eye,
Fairness and, candour close did vie;
And from his chiseled mouth and chin
You judged emotions pure within;
While over all a quiet air*
Of bold intelligence did appear.
XII.
Upon her brow a favour warm
He pressed, as he released her form J
And sitting close, like welcome guest,
With head inclined, he thus addressed—•
" Thy notes are sad, sweet Leonore i * i
But sadder still the thoughts* they poun
I knew that thou didst not approve T
This wish of mine afar to rove,
In quest of wealth—though io^-tky Sake*
I do the distant venture make ;
But never dreamed, that in that breast,
Doubt of my trutb could lodge a guest.
For self alone, life's wants' are few—J
With ease supplied, so ample too—
But when is added to my care
The life of one I hold so dear,
I should be false unto* the trust, I
Were I content, with simple crust, 1
. To feed the loYe which could repose '
SH2' 9StfNTfc&r
On me for all its joyeVnot? woes^ ""
For these arenottbe pastoral day*; r
When X&vq w fad on shepherds''lay*;.
Bat Artandi Science, now unite * * *
To thro# o'er Lifetheic brilliant-light,1-'
And he, who would their riya command,*
Wealth'smftgie key must, hold in hand
Dost think that- Gold'could oyer weigh
My lore.from thee te lure away f'
Discard the thought—theeur est sign
1 lore tfoee>iSj I seek the mine..
Think'st .thou that I, could bear nay bride
Another's form to'palfcbeeide-? *
Or want for ornament, , or ought,
Which may by others?: wealth be bought f—
Besidesi two auns-complefcei no more, •
And home returned, aweet Leonore,
We'll smile at these;, thine idle feaira,
While lore absorbs all-other care*."
In M«i!f IHhi-
" Henry ! I da not doubt thy truth—*
This were ta wrong the heart of youth—
But this I fear, that Gold may grow.
With it* insidious charms upentbeo so
That, ere thou .hnow'sst,its baleful ruafc
May thy whole heart and soul encrust,
31 ot yet, the miaer's love to hear it sink
In iron cheat, with ringing chink-—
Not yet can this be charged to thee,
Though thin the spirit of the century be,
But ahj too little eare what shrine
Thou worshipp'st at, I feat, is thine."
XIV.
" Now, by those eyes ditihe I swear1,
Thou wrong'attee in that idle fear.
No, Leonore I it cannot foe, ~
That I could stray so far from then. "
Not Gold'f butioreVtbe ehrine before
Tils' sots hu^eb. IS
Whose sacr e<£ altar t adore. (
'Tis Love," great, all abstaining tove
Rules all below and all above.
'Twas'Love the worlds from chaosf spake,
And Eden made'for 'mortals1 Bake.
'Twas Love that made" the sentence light,
When Sin their Paradise did blight.
'Twas Lore which left the courts on high,
To win out Race froth misery..
And now*, 'tis Love alone that binds,
With silken-tie, all human mindsT"^
Love is the God before whose throne,
My willing nature bow's atone;
And, if I love ^eeLconofe,
'lis that I may notSeem of be
False to the'god Whom 1 adore, ' ,
Whose fairest image dwells in thee.''
v xvr
" Nay, then, unto that" God be true,
Nor from hiB lore let Mammon woo.
Ah, Henryl wherefore thus deceive
Thy heart with thoughts'thine own hopes weave f
'Tis notfor me, this wish to" roam,
And gatherwealth to deckfhy home—
Thou deemest so—but let me 'say.
That Pride has led thy heart astray.
Believe mC, I could take more pride
In cottage, by thy love supplied.
Feel more delight, to daily tend1 '*
Its humble eares, With willing hand;
Than all the' splendours could bestow
Which Fashion's followersl'ever know;
Nor sigh," another joy to prove
Beyond thy true, unchanging love.
I know, there are", "who sneering say,
That woman only cares'to sway, ,
Is not content, unless around
G.old spreads its tinsel and its sound,
THE GOLD HUNTER.
*
But when to naught reverses bring,
Her love, with them, takes willing wing.
They wrong her—in my heart I feel,
They wrong her, who this censure deaL
False as the. heart which first conceived,
'Tis only by the false believed.
Her noble nature spurns the lie,
And flings it back before their eye.
Oh! think, how God has made her pure,
As gentle dew that feeds the flower,
More finely sensitive to the cry
Of suffering and Misery, a
"With touch to soothe more delicate,
And gave to her the privilege great,
To have of infancy the care,
And all mankind to manhood rear,
And do not think with those who would
So underrate her heart for good."
XVI.
k lu i
" Thou art mistaken, Leonore!
Thy sex's virtues thus to lower,
My faith in thee forbids. - I deem
Thy sex even such as thor| dost seem.
So fair a picture thou hast drawn
Of Love from Fashion's eyes withdrawn,
Almost thou wouldst persuade me now,
This cherished scheme aside to throw,
And setling here at once become
Slave of thy charms, no more to roam.
For well I feel, that roof were poor,
Howe'er by riches covered o'er,
Which wants thy presence to illume
The setting of its di'aperied room.
But yet, it cannot be—it is too late— ,
Even now my co-adventurers wait,
And, in the city, all prepared,
I only now their start retard.
This night we leave—ah Leonore,
THE GOLD HUNTER. IS
■■■.— —w—,—— . ~
How shall I get this parting o'er t
If such the sadness, such the pain,
To leave, with hope, to come again,
What would it be ? 1 shun the thought—
But cheer thee now, as either ought—
Not long shall Time its measure tell,
Ere I return. Farewell—farewell!"
xvir.
tf So soon, alas!—Then fare thee well!
May Heaven more propritious prove
To thee, than thou unto my love.
Farewell!" ^ t
She plucked from near the spot
A little flower—forget-me-not—
Sole specimen of its kind,
By other gatherers left behind,.
And, with forced smile amid her fears,
Placed in his tand—and choked her tears.
He took—and read its thought—rthen pressed
The speaking token to his breast.
He rose—and with a quickened pace,
Forsook to him that hallowed place-
Then sought his now impatient steed, J
And to the city urged with speed.
SVIH.
Accursed Pride ^ what harp may tell,
Since first by' thee even angels fell,
The miseries that are entailed
On human hearts by thee assailed!
Ah, ill becomes this thing of dust,
To place on thee the slightest trust;
But least of all should fall thy blight
On any of the 'Sons of Light,'
Whose only pride should ever be,
'How best to work, and best agree.'
XIXT '
The moon had .sunk below the eye.
And starlight only ruled the sky,
16 THE GOLD HUNTER.
— - ■.-
The wave was still, and not a sound
Disturbed the quiet all around,
Save where the noise of courser's hoof
Died in the distance far aloof.,
The maiden slowly left the bower,
And entering the cottage door,r
Passed sadlyinto her boudoir •
The astral lamp had burned full low,
And still she turned her Album slow,
Musing o'er tokens of the Past— .
(The Future must be that at last)r—
And late that night, with troubled breast,
Did Leonore retire to rest, ( J ;
And Morning, with her freshening airs,
Beheld her pillow wet with tears.
Ah, gentle maid—ah Leonorq,
Thy heart shall harbour peace nb more.
< 1 1
XX. f
From where, in famed St. Louis' street, .
The New,world with the Old doth meet, (<s)
Ere yet the morning twilight ray ^ f
Had fairly broadened into day,
There started an adventurous band
In quest of Ophir's (d) golden land,
In number fifteen souls in all
By compact bound with equal stake,
Whatever, fortunes should befal,
» v !
An equal share to bear and take. .
Each clad in rough and hunting gear,
A hardy set they did appear,
And uncouth accoutrements hung.
And yet their laugh rang free and clear
Out on the vernal morning air,
And Echo"from hef mellow throat'
Gave back no move enlivening note,
That morn, unto the listening ear,
Than first escaped those pilgrims there.
Five wagons had they in their care,
THE GOLD HUNTER. H
And muled and horses fifteen pair,,
By turns they.drave, by turns they rode,
And so relieved the tedious road;
While song and jest beguilecl the way, (
And helped to while and wear the day. (
Foremost among the joyous band ,
Were Henry's voice and Henry's hand ;
And still, at eveTy trial feat,
Of horsemanship he would compete,
And stood among the first and led
In every sport, acknowledged head.
But there were moments when his thought
Revelled in scenes from distance brought;
Sad hours, which did his soul obscure,
When memory wreaked on mind its pow'r.—
Those hours were thine, sweet Leonore t
xxi.
Two weeks had passed, and they became
In hope and Bpirit, all, more tame,
Ab with increasing care and load
They struck, at length, 'th' emigrant road,'
And entered on the prairie wide,
Which touched th' horizon, every side,
And, with its rolling surface spread-
Away behind, around, ahead,
Was once, it well might be believed,
An Ocean, with its groundswell heaved,
Converted by Enchanter's wand,
At sudden stroke, to solid land. ( e)
But lower yet their courage sank,
And sorely of Despair they drank,
Although, upon the prairie wide,
Far as the sight on every side,
Were seen—in Gold what sorcery t—•*
Like white sails set of ship? .at sea, {/ )
The canvass tops of wagons, alIL
Bound on the same pernicious eall-^
For still, at every rod they pxet,
3
18- THE GOLD HUNTER.
(Sad presage -what awaited yet)
Wagons deserted—every kind
Of valuables left behind (g )—
Trunks—books—and things with which to part,
Wrung, doubtless, some despairing heart,
Which left this lesson on the'road,
Unread, alas, .by those who should.
And near a stream, whose moisture threw
A verdure o'er the soil it babbled through,
On every tree and stump which stood,
Was carved'into their scanty wood.
The names of hundreds passed before,
With messages ( h )to friends, wept sore—
The simple record of the care
Which pressed upon their spirits there.
Ah, what a sad, instructive page
Would these not furnish to the Age,
Were they collected and impressed
In lines of fire" on every breast!—
And every day, on either side
The road with water ill supplied, (i)
Were fresh-dug graves, (/) whose culmined earth
Repressed all tendency to mirth,
And left upon the heart of each
A solemn mood averse to speech.
XXII.
Sadly did Henry now repent
The wish his footsteps here had sent;
And much and sore did he deplore
He did not heed thee, Deonore.
Almost had he resolved to join
Some band returning and resign
The mad adventure—but his Pride
Ag£ain was potent to misguide.
'And what,' he thought, 4if graves be found
Upon thiB roadside to abound;
Death, in his walk, is-not confined,
To time, or place, or state of mind:
THE SOLD HUNTEE. 19
H" ■
And still doth Time's unsparing scythe
Mow down, alike, the sad and blithe,
The polished and the savage wild,
The hoary head and prattling child,
The New "World's race of tawny red
And Afrio breed with woolly head.
Even rocks, displaced from ancient ledge,
Do melt before its wasting edge. 1
'Tis but the difference of a day,
Since all must fall beneath his sway.'
XXIII.
An Indian Lodge, which caught their sight,
Did from the route their steps invite.
Sole tenant of the silent plain,
They hoped intelligence to gain
^ From its wild occupants, which may
Have proved of service on their way;
But found a corse—its lone inmate—
Of Indian warrior laid in state, (k )
In centre of the log-built shed
A plank was raised to make his bed,
And there, with buffalo robe around him,
His bow laid by his side, they found him,
And all the implements which were
Essential, or of service here,
Gathered together to supply
His need of such beyond the sky.
Alone—nor mother—nor wife—nor child,
To watch or guard in that great wild,
He slept as peacefully and well,
As any laid in marble cell—
Left by his tribe, with simple faith,
In all the majesty of Death.
For never living mortal brow,
Though thick with honors men bestow, t
And though the dazzling pomp of wealthy
Joined to the pride of glowing health,
Assist, with their acknowledged might,
To aw• and to impress the sight,
THE GOLD HUNTER.
> ' ,
Can make the living awful feel
Like that where Death hath set his seal,
1 tt
XXIV.'
They met, next day, the peaceful Sauk, (I)
And held with him a friendly talk.
For though unskilled in either's tongue,
And many words between them hung,
Yet still their»meaning they could find.
Through the Freemasonry of Mind.
And these were skilled to use a cede
Of signs ( m ) adopted on this road,
And understood by every tribe
The Rocky Chain doth circumscribe.
And some have thought from this to trace
Connection with an Eastern race
And plead for these the sacred Right
To mysteries of the Sons of Light,
A pleasing fancybut man's thought
Was first by signs to others taught;
And this, the natural speech, remains
To these rude children of the Plains.
Yet, no jnore can it therefore claim
To be with Ancient Masonry the same.
Than stars reflected in the Lake
The glory of true stars can take.
xxv.
They travelled thus the weary way,
Progressing slowly every day,
Save when the Sabbath morn arose
To spread its calm above their woes,
And then they rested, { n ) and renewed
Both strength and courage for thq road,
For, though a few were ill"content
To lose an hour, thus rightly spent,
The most, by early custom taught,
Some reverence for the day had caught,
And felt their conscience ill at ease
A sacrilegious haste to please^
THE GOLD HUHTBJt,
21
But Henry chiefly urged its claim
To all respect in mere than name, I
And shoved the profit they derived ,
From boused hope and strength revived,
By obedience to.His behest
"Which set apart this, day of Rest. '
Besides, he had been fitly taught,
That as the Great I am had wrought,
With glorious and almighty hand,
Six days on the Creation—and
Rested the seventh, which he blessed
To purposes, of holy Rest; • »
The Craft, by ancient usage now,
The seventh day did thus bestow.
Yet, not alone on Sabbath day t
Should we to God our reverence pay;
But as the burning censer glows
With mild, yet fervent heat, and throws
Its grateful incense up on high, •*. H
Forever mounting to the sky,
The heart should ever burn and feel
A-fire with holy love and zeal ;
Lifted by faith above .the sphere
Of Earthly ills and Earthly care,*
And anchored with unfailing stone, ( d )
Fast by the foot of Mercy's throne.
* " j
xxyi.
Six Sabbaths now had passed, and still,
They travelled on with earnest will, f 't
'Twas at the close of scorching day,
They halted to recruit their way :-j»_
Of water they'd such Scant supply,
Their throats were sadly parched and dry;
And, tired, in early sleep they found
Refreshment on the sterile ground.
'Twas midnight—and the " coralled train "(?)
Was sleeping quiet on the Plain— *
Oblivion possessed eacb*breaat,"
And all were sunk ia grateful rest--.'
THS ©OLD HITKI2K.
The sky was elear—no cloud was seen
In all th' horizon'of the scene,
And far above their heads, on high,
Was spread the starrer canopy—-
That covering, within whose veil
The Craftsman hopes full light to hail.
His saddle for a pillow made,
Among the rest was Henry laid,
And in the light of dreams forgot
The horrors of his present lot.
He thought—before him did arise,
Ascending to the peaceful skies,
The ladder which of old appeared
Upon his way and Jacob cheered;
And he w$s mounting higher—higher,
Its many rounds which still aspire,
Until He now had reached the three •
Nearest that heavenly canopy.
The first of these, by Faith, he ^passed,
And upward still his longing cast;
The next, Hope helped him to ascend,
And to the last her aid did lend.
Already had he touched the third,
And, with engaging look and word,.
Did Charity her help afford—
And he could hear the notes divine
Of heavenly harps in chorus join,
AlhHeaven filled with symphony
Of the celestial psalmody—
And now he saw th' angelic choir,
With welcome glances, drawing, nigher,
And in their midst, advanced before,
The shining form of Leonpre,
Who forward leaned, with gracious hand,
To raise him to that angfel band—
When, suddenly, he slipped—and fell—
Down-»-down—how far he could hot tell-
But, starting, he awoke to find
Noise, stir, confusfbn, all combined
To throw tho train into a state
THE SOLD HUNTER,
Of wild disorder, desperate.
Dark forms were passing to and fro,
Half-wake, uncertain where to go;'
And some aloud for lights were calling—»
And some o'er baggage piles were falling—
While some curses and oaths were mingling
With Bounds of bridle-mountings jingling,
And fearful click
Of triggers quick*,
As steeds were caught, and^each did see;
His arms prepared, for butchery—
And near, outside, an Indian yell
Upon his startled hearing fell.,
xxvn. '
Not long was Henry left in doubtr
Of what had brought such stir about.
The Pawnee robbers ( q ) of the Plain
Had, in the night, attacked the train—
Not boldly, and with fearless front,
As noble enemy is wont,
But with a sly and stealthy pace,
Creeping in the least guarded place,
Their presence only being betrayed
By careless noise in leaving made—•
Yet two of their best horses gond
Attested the success they won.
All now were beating with quick hearty
Eager in the pursuit to start®;
And Henry too, with least delay.
Was ready in his saddle for the fray.
Presuming qj> the party's size,
The Pawnees, to their great surprise*
Were not disposed to hasty flight,
But turning made some show of fight;
Yet yielded soon to better drill,
And deadlier arms and practised skill *
Though not before Earth cried to Cain (r)
And Pawnees four had bit the Plain,
Henry of these had slain hi* two,
2$ i' the* eoii» mUsfinLf
- I. Ml >1 ' ..— J —
' And still the slaughter did pursue,
* (With shedding "blood, 'tis strange yet true,
• His taste fbr shedding strangely grdw,) *
When now, upon his booty, he espied
"A Pawnee * brave*' before him? ride.
To see, Was to pursue—his eyes
Intent upon the stolen prize.
Earnest began the deadly race;
But still the Pawnee kept his place.
On—on—h£ only saw, he only knew
* The prize ahead—to that he flew 14
The train was left, and all forgot,
Beneath th£ stars he faltered not.
As flew his steed, so fled the Night,
And bore him farther^ from the sight.
Qa-in-ing—now—he thought—with pride,—
. An arrow struek him-in the side,J
Shot by some ambush'd Pawnee, who
. Thus saved his(brave' and booty too.
xtvJJX.
. The-wound did little smarter bleed,
And from big side to .pluck the reed,..
, And break,.was but a moment's deed. •
But Fortuflg oft in setsonds lies, •
And that tost moment lost the prizes
The Pawnee, with hie booty, passed
Beyond his grasp, secure at last.
And Henry turned, he thought, his face,
And Btrove his Coursing to retrace;
But, though the Cafly twilight gleamed'
In the far Fast, more lost he seemed.
And anxlbus nofv hfe bosom grew,
For o'er his frame strange tremors flew,
And, suddenly, before his eye
All objects mixed confusedly
And now a desperate longing fuzed
For water, Where no water pleased,
And a d ull, deadly fainin ess stole
Upon him^and Oppyesfeed his som!.*-1
THS GOLS HTOTSK,
25
* Poisoned ! with no hand to tcwo !'
The very thought to madness dravs.
He wrung his hands, like maniac wild,
Then wept and sobbed, like any child—
He raved—now urged to highest speed,
How checked and wheeled about his steed—
He shouted—but no answer came
In shape of cry—or word—or name.
Hot even Echo made reply
To his wild wail which rent the sky;
For, in that undulating scene,
Far as the voice could reach, was seen
Hor rising mound, nor hillock blest,
Where Echo might have built her nest
xxix.
Wildered and faint, with fitful rein,
He pressed his steed across the Plain.
Inconstant, lost, with failing sense,
And famished with a thirst intense
He wandered on—now here—now, there-
He knew not—thought not—recked not where.
For, as the poison worked, it threw
His brain a maddened wbirl into,
And a high fever hotly burned
Tfis blood, an$ into'curdle turned.
Lifting the East, the Sun came forth,
And threw his glory o'er the earth:
All Hature owned his kindly heat,
And sprang itsjinfluences to greet£
But only served, to him, hi3 ray
To dazzle and confuse his way.
The Sun rode high above the head,
And scorched the Plain to kindred red,
And beast and bird, of heat afraid,
Fled his hot beams and sought the shads;
But he kept on—nor turned aside,
An instant from his rays to hide.
At length, worn out, he dropped the I6ia,„
4
26 THE &0I» MUSTEK.
I
Unconscious, on his horse's mane,
Who followed now his instinct sure,
And travelled freer than before.
XXX.
'Twas evening—in the glowing West,
The burning day was sunk to rest;
Twilight was settliug on the Plain,
And jS"ight prepared t' assert her reign:—
The inmates of a small stockade
Some hardy pioneer here had made.
Were passing 'round to make secure
The rude defences to their door,—
And, as the steed his burden bore
The fence unto, and stopped before,
Faster the bars were drawn across
The narrow gate which faced the house.
Henry was startled, and his mind
Eallied what force was left behind.
And seeing, .through his swimming sight,
Some object in the dim twilight,
As though by sudden impulse moved,
He raised himself—his eyesight proved—
And gave—it was an ancient sign,
But one all Craftsmen doth entwine.—
Faster hack the dosed bars, came,
And welcomed in his sinking frame.
And kindly, warmly did the glow
Of Brother's hand new hcpe bestow
His steed was taken to a stall,
And watered, fed, aid littered all—
But little now could Henry heed
What passed—His Brother saw his need,
And gave, to cool his parched lip,
Of yrater from fee spring to sip;
Then led him in the rude-built shad,
And stripping, laid him in his bed.
His arms he hung against the wall,
And clothing nigh, at shortest e&ll,
And dressed with hunter's shall his wound,
TEB *0LI> HUKTEK.
And o'er Ida side a bandage bound;
First sucHng long the bleeding mart,
With hope the poison th en ee to start.
Alas ! the hope were wore* than vain -
It eourssd already through each rein.
XXXI.
The fever rose, and day by day,
The life of Henry passed away:
But, patient to observe Ma "will,
Aad Ma every "want prevent—still,
Like mother o'er hor infant pride,
That Brother watched, nor left Ms side—»
'Till Henry knew his face, and showed
The thanks he could not speak, yet owed.
Four days, and on the fifth he lay
A wasted frame—strength passed away—
But in his wild and Restless eye.
The fever flushed, and raged full high;
And still his arms were eonstant tossad,
As though unto volition lost— '
And still he muttered in his dreams
Of home—and Indians—and cool streams—
And graves—and wild perplex'fey past—
And roof fraternal gained, at last.
But through it all, and evermore,
"Was mixed the name of Leonore.
X222X*
The morning of the sixth day rose,
And he had fallen into repose;
The fever from Ma pulse had passed,
And Ms tost frame was still at last;
But more than ever, now, was seen
How deep its ravages had been.—
He woke, at length, with swimming head,
And sat up in the tiresome bed—
Upon his elbow partly raised,
And 'round the room intently gased—
Then rested on that Brother nigh,
And $hu» addressed, with feeble i;gk—
2t
TWA #OLB BffSflBB.
"My Brother!—all around is strange—
And, hut that 1 would not exchange
Thy features, which familiar seem,
Would God! that it were all a dream.
But such relief is not for me,—
Alas!' the truth of all 1 see.
This bed—those arms against the wall
Too vividly the worst recaL
And, oh! this torture in my side
Alone all question would decide.—
Yet, surely, through my fevered brain
Some thoughts have passed which must be vain.—
But be they false, or be they real,
This comfort I have felt and feel;
I own, in thy fraternal care,
One tie no fortune can impair;
And I would thank thee for snoh love,
Ho selfish ends could ever move,
But thou wouldst not such praise approve.—
I've much to tell thee, Brother!—all
That led to this untimely fall—
Of happy home deserted—and
Of maiden's heart, and maiden's hand—
Oh! hers were worth and beauty wall,
Brother! might guard a soul from hell."
* * * * * « *
mrm.
" 'Twerelong to tell—life will not last—
now, its sands are ebbing fast—
But, by a false desire beguiled,
The home that nursed me from a child,
My early friendships, and the maid
"Whose love my dearest pleasure made,
I left, to follow in the train
Of those Gold tempts across the Plain.
I eared not for the sordid dust,
But,—ah, Society's falsa crust!—
I though, life® ©ftp**, I nrcit have
THS GOLD HUOTSE.
23
What, for itself, I did not crave.
Ah, sad .mistake—to think to find
A happiness outside the mind.
How sadly, now, do I deplore
Thy cpunsel spurned, sweet Leonore 1
And was't for this, dear heart of truth!
That thou hast sacrificed thy youth ?
This hed of pain—this dying frame,
Unworthy thy pure love to claim!"
******
******
XXXIY.
"Brother I—1 would—but wherefore newf
Too soon the tidings she will knew.
And yet I would—while yet I may—
For strength and breath do haste away—
I would—-unto thy breast consign
A message" * * * *
*******
******
* * * *
XXXV,
"Too late—too late—this sharpened pang—
Oh, God!— where art thou Brother!" * *
******
******
30
, THE &OZD nUXTXK.
xxxn.
i
"Brother I I feist—thy visaga fades
Before the earning, deepening shades.
Yet, theugh thy feoe I cannot see, '
I feel thy grasp, and cling to thee."
* * » * 1 * *
******
* * * *
XXXVII,
"Oh, God!—one little moment more—
Tell her—-oh, tell—tell Leonore "
He sunk—hie lips yet muttered more,—
Quivered—grew still—and all was o'er.
xxxvm.
On margin of a quiet stream,
Unruffled as is Childhood's droam.
Six feet below the virgin soil,
In grave dug out with patient toil,—
A spot whose eminence caught the eye
Above the level eeenery nigh,—
That Brother laid him to tun rest*
xas «du> OTaraa.
(ThS evergreen upon his breast,)
With ritual such as could, bo shown
By single'mason all alone.
But, that the spot might not be past
By em'grant Craftsman, in his haste,
Without suoh honour a3 is duo
To last house of a Brother true.
Such emblems sad were gathered near,
By happy choice, or patient eare,
As long have stood to Craftsman's eye,
Symbolic of a "broken tie.
For, at his head, the Shittim tree (a)
Wares its green leaf unceasingly.
Here set in place hy Brother's hand,
And-watered 'till it flourished—and
A column, broken in its place,
Its cap'tal lying at its base, ■
An emblem sad, to Craftsmen known,
Of life untimely lost and gone,
Is rudely represented near
By roek, the weather, many a year,
Had worn and shaped to stand alone,
But sudden storm had snapped and thrown
Its top from where it towered high
To surfaei of the sandstone nigh. t
For Nature, here; had strewn around
Fantastic figures on the ground;
Recumbent some, and some upright,
They well might lead-astray the sight,
And be, by many, taken for part
Of ancient work of human art. (t)
XXIX.
And thus he died—from scenes removed
His infant, memory earliest loyed,
And faces which of old had smiled
Upon his footsteps, when a child;
And far from her—oh, gracious Heaven!
For this, we pray, he is forgiven—
Who made,—so pure, so free from art—
32 SHE GOi» HCJTEEB.
The morning sunohino of hi? heart,-?- •
Driven, not so mnch by thirst pf gold. '
For which so many souls are sold,
But by a false, mistaken Pride, ,
Its tens of thousands doth misguide.
Ah, had he then but given heed
To truest counsel she did plead,
Ere yet he left his native shore
To seek for gold—accursed power!—
He would not now be lying low,
Far from where Ches'peake's waters flow,
Mixed With strange earth, nnblest
By tear of those he valued best.—
XL.
Howbeit, let net the profane sneer,
STor doubt the power of Lux sincere,
To make the sons of Light more fair
Than eoxnmon herd of mortals are
Masonic teaching, it is^true, ,
Directs the passion? to subdue,
Evil to shun, to conquer Pride,
"And every other sin beside,—
And if they all could keep its law
Who enter in those Courts of awe,
Their characters would nearly be
Perfect as Earth doth ever Bee.
But then, alas! for human birth,
Perfection doth not 'habit Earth,
And few, without the higher Grace
Of Him, who died to save our Race,
Attain to that degree of-Light,
Which marks the perfect Craftsman bright.
Yet who would thence its aims condemn,
Is little versed Life's ills to stem,
And scarce deserves, of honest fame.
The wisdom he pretends to claim.
XLI.
But yet, though far from home and friends,
53SB STOR.
With ebbing life and thwarted ends,—*
An erring mortal, as'hre all
Of Adam's lineage since the ^all-
He was not lost to feeling eye
Of m&yersal Masonry,
But found a Brother, true indeed,
To watch and soothe in that last need;
Who Btill, Vith faithful love Bincere,
Closed hia sunt eye, with tender care,
And, as he could, in decent show,
Consigned his'dust to Earth. And though
A Brother's nursing could no^ save,
And he lies buried in strange land,
. Yet, planted by a Brother's hand,
Th' acacia blooms above his grave.
And as it blooms with fadeless leaf,
Of Brethren'tis the firm belief.
His soul, like it, shall fadeless he
Through ages of Eternity,
Blest in that perfect Lodge above,
Where God is throned and all is love.
xx n.
Of all who filled that joyous band,
But few returned to native land.
Some died upon the diff 'cult route,
Out off by Cholera, (u) or the Drought;
And there, their graves do still remain
To mark their route and bleaoh the Plain,
If haply, .they have not been rent
By prowling wolves, of carrion seentji—
And some, despondent, at the mine,
Did their last strength and breath resign.
One only gained the accursed prize
So coveted by human eyes.
But not by delving in the mine;
By fraud, and gaming tricks unfair,
Mean arts, beneath a freeman's ears,
He th' toil of -others did purloin.
5
34
SHE GOU*. mrHSEE.
Bat, little good each ill gotgain
Returned unto his breast, but pain^
And all he heaped could ill console
To know for this he lost his soul/ (v)
XLin.
Ah, Leonore! the hour Wassad,.
Thy heart encountered news so bad.
Moons waned and filled, but with them J>rou{
No tidings from thy constant Thought.
But though, at news so long# unheard,
Thy hope grew dimmer, thus deferred,
And twelfth moon now was nearly out,
His truth'thou never once did doubt.
Mindful o' thy spirit's peace, with care,
Thy friends had kept it from thine ear;
And many a day had now gone by,
Since they had known how he did die,
Nor word, nor whisper ever fell, ,
Which could to thee the sorrew tell,
Until some rash and careless hand
Had borne the sheet from that far land,
Which told how he had'bled and died,
From fatal arrow in his side,
Unto the bower where last you parted,
With many tears, yet hopeful-hearted,
And dropped—it could not be design,
What heart could harbour-ill to thine?—
Near that loved and hallowed spot,
Where Love first joined your luckless lot-
Where thou, with trusting hope, the while,
Had pluoked the last forget-me-not,
And gave it to him with a smile.
One glanoe sufficed—a piercing shriek—
And soon thy friends were at thy side.
They saw it all—thou didst not speak,
But, from thy lips, the orimton tide
Of life ran slowly down, and dyed
Their roseate hue a deeper red—
The eolour told thy heart had hied—
»"■ ' I 1.. ?■ ft . ■ I,»,,! |
•And in" thy.hand, the fatal fcheefc
Betrayed vJhcre thou the news did mee^
Though now, unheeded, it remained
As t^rere a thing which had not pained,
xliv.
Not all at once her freedom came-fy
But,-lingering on for months the same.
Her step still wandered to the bower,
At early morn and evening hour;
But seldom was her voice now heard,
And never seemed her spirit stirred
With aught which onee could claim her care—
The tones most loved touched not her ear—
And feebler, feebler, every day,.
Her step too plainly fell away.—
With promise fall of coming fruit,
The Summer passed with winged foot;
Unmoved Bhe gave but little heed
To all its promise, flower or seed.
She looked on all, how passing fair,
As things in which she had no share;
But, never, by or word, or sign,
Was seen to murmur, or repine.
The Autumn came, and richly spread
Within its lap what Summer sped;
Unheeding still, she saw it all, ■
As though for hex .they did not fall,
And yet did envy not their lot
Who still could feel what she could not
And when the cheerful Winter cafoe,
And lit indoors the fireside flame,
She satin listless mood for days,
And scarcely, when awake, would raise
Her eye from off the woodfire blaze,
But still pursued, in silent thought,
The images her Fancy wrought, , ^
As still the flames would! rise and fall,
Or, sinking low, would dieput all j
$6 THE ©OLD HPSTTER-
And fortunes strange w?uld. trace snd^pian '
la sparks that through the ashes ran, •
XLV.
Laden with health and balmy airs,
And odours fragrant from blest spheres.
O'er waters which refreshing fie
'Mid Scenes enchanting to the eye,
And fields, whose flowers never die,
The West wind came, with' Maia meek,
And fanned alike the rosy cheek
Of Beauty toying in its bower,'
And brow of sick, at evening hour,
Restoring colour to the one,
Increasing roses where they[shone,
But, unto her could bring
Ho healing on its wing,
Bnt saddened thought, instead,
Of him—the loved—the dead.
And they, who watched her changing mood.
Believed—snch thoughts beguile the good—
As in her ear its. zephyrs sighed,
She heard the voice of him who died;
And, by its cherished music won,
She struggled harder to be gone.
For, while her form still pined away,
Her eye grew brighter, ©very day,
And smiles, some other to repay,
Over her face were seen to play.
At length, her spirit, wooed away,
Deserted its cold mask of clay,
But left upon it, ere it fled,
The light its presence there had shed;
For still, the mourners nigh could trace
A smile upon its still-cold face.
XLVI.
In hallowed ground, where rest the dead.
How lowly lies that lovely head.
'Mid trees and' flowers on every side,
fftn gr« tf Bre&m s&aaat bid?
TH£ GOLD HtrSTSR.
87
One spot, distinguished from the rest—
'Tis where the Bodlies on her breast.
A marble slab, of purest white,
The- Wandering foot doth there invite,
Though on its face is seen no more
Than, simply lettered, LEONOBS.
But, at its head, the evergreen,
" Fresher than all around, is seen,
And flowers, more bright, forever bloom
Above that plain and simple tomb.
ERRATUM.
On Page 16, after line 29, read
With arms about their person* slung,.
NOTES
Note (a) Page 5—Line 11.
Bud, blossom, fruitage to the view-i
A well established and not uncommon circumstance. The
fact was noticed in the public Gazettes, that thfe frujt trees,
which had been stripped of their foliage by the storm that de¬
vastated a large extent of the Atlantic coast, last Fali, and from
which the cities of Charleston and Savannah suffered so much,
renewed their sap, put out fresh leaves, budded and fruited.
Note (b) Page 7—Line 17.
The fatal truth—"Knowledge is Sorrow—'
Sorrow is Knowledge; they who know the most
Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth
The tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.—Manfbed!
Note (c) Page 16—'Line 19.
The New World with the old doth meet—
The city of St. Louis, Mo. is the common starting point for
the overland emigration to California. As this emigration con¬
sists of numbers from the British Isles and the Continent of Eu¬
rope as well as the States, the figure in the text can hardly be
regarded as overstrained.
Note (d) Page 16—Line 23.
In quest of Ophir" s golden land—
It is not agreed where the ancient Ophir was. We learn
from the Bible, that the Hebrews, in the time of David and Sol¬
omon, made voyages to Ophir, and brought thence gold, &c.—
As great use was made by Solomon of vast quantities of gold in
and about the Temple, and in the manufacture of the holy ves¬
sels " and all the drinking vessels of King Solomon were of
gold, and all the vessels of the house of the Forest of Lebanon
were of pure gold; none were-of silver; it was not anything
accounted of in the days of Solomon," (n Chron. ix. 80) it is evi¬
dent, Ophir must have abounded in this precious metal.
From the want of agreement among the commentators, (some
placing it in the East Indies, some in Ceylon, eome in Armenia,
NOTES.
and somq on the coast of Africa,) and the discovery of traces of
ancient mining in' California, it has'been conjectured that this
was'the Ophir of the ancients. It is certain from passages of
Scripture, that the ebmmerce of the ancient Hebrews was very
extensive, Solomon sent ships from the port of Ezion-geber,
through the Ked' Sea to Ophir; King Hiram sending pilots
along—(1 Kings ix. 26 27.) And some of the large ships, which
V'ent to Tarshish, (supposed by some to be Spain) sailed from
the port of Joppa;—tne proper port of Jerusalem. Jonah " went
dbwn to Joppa; and* he found a ship going to Tarshish,"—(Jo-
hah' i.,3.) Thjs trade .to Tarshish was a regular and profitable
one, tinder the Tyrian pilotage, " for the King's ships went
down to Tarshish bringing gold and silver, ivory and asses and
peacocks,"—(ft Chrbn. ix. 21.) From this it would appear that
Spanish jacks were in request even in that day. We learn, also,
thau in the days of EzekieT, this commerce became so great as to
excite 'envy, even in the Tyrians themselves, Son of man, be¬
cause that' Tyrue hath said against Jerusalem, Aha, she is bro¬
ken that was the gates of the people ; she is turned unto me:
I shall bS replenished, now she is laid waste," &c.—(Ezekiel
xxvi 2.]f From this .it will be seen that it is by no means in¬
credible that that commerce might have reached even to mod¬
ern California. *
The well read Mason will not objeet to this note. To the
general reader, it is enough to say, that the celebrity of the an¬
cient Ophir, as a producer of gold, is enough Jto warrant the
application, of thq, name in the text to California, without resort
to that common refuge from criticism—poetic license.
Ivote (e) Page 17—line 28.
At sudden stroke, to solid land—
" The Country around us is entirely destitute of trees; not
so much as a twig is to be seen; all is bald, naked prairie, with
sweeping undulations of the surface, as if a groundswell of the
Ocean had been suddenly arrested and converted by the wand
of some enchanter, into fixed and solid soil."—Lieut. Stanburfs
Expedition to the Great Salt Lake, p. 17.
Most of the imagery of the route in the text has been de¬
rived from this work—a work, which, while it has added to the*
topographical seience of the country, contributes equally the
charm of persenal narrative and description to the. literary
taste. It, with the " Exploration of the Yalley of the Amazon,*'
by lieuts. Herndon and Gibbon are works which reflect credit
" $n the Government.
Note (/) Page 17—Line 84.
Like white sails set of ships at sea—
a We have been* in company with multitude* of emigrant*
40
SfOTBB.
the? whole day. The road has been- lined to a long extent
with their wagons, whose white covers, glittering yi the sun¬
light, resembled, at a distance, ships Upon the Ocean."—Stan-
burg's Expedition to Salt Lake p. 24.,
Note(g)Page 18—Line 3*
Of valuables left behind—
"To-day, We find additional and melancholy evidence,of the
difficulties encountered by those who are ahead of us. Before
halting, to noon, we passed eleven wagons that had been bro¬
ken up, the spokes of the wheels taken to make pack-saddles,
and the rest burned or otherwise destroyed. The road has been
literally strewn with articles that have been thrown aWay.—
Bar-iron and steel, large blacksmiths' anvils and bellows, crow¬
bars, drills, augers, gold washers, chisels, axes, lead, truilkp
spades, ploughs, large grindstones, baking-ovens, cooking-ovens
without number, kegs, barrels, harness, clothing, bacon and
beans, were found along the road in pretty much the order in
whieh they have been entered."—Expedition to Salt Lake p. 63.
In another passage is noticed a Bible, which had been deser-,
ted, I hope, in the last resort.
Note (h) Page 18—Line 13.
With messages ta friends, wept sore.—
" We find the trees and stumps en its banks carved all over
with the names of hundreds of emigrants who had preceded us„
the dates of their passing, the state of their health and spirits,
together with an occasional message for their friends who were
expected to follow. Such a record, in the midst of a wide soli¬
tude like this, could not but make a strong impression on every
new-comer, who thus suddenly found himself, as it were, in the
midst of a great company of friends and fellow-travellers."—
Expedition to Salt Lake p 21.
In the text I have ventured to differ from the author and at¬
tribute a very different impression on the new-comer.
Note (i)Page 18—Line 21.
The road with water ill supplied—
" It now became a matter of serious importance to find water
for the mules, as they had been without for nearly forty hours."
Expedition to Salt Lake, p. 108.
Note (/) Page 18-—line 22.
Were fresh-dug graves, whose eulmined earth—
" We had passed six graves already daring the day. Mel-
# NOTES. 4}
anelioly accompaniments they are of a $oad, silent and solitary*
at best, and ill-calciilated to cheer th§ weary, drooping way¬
farers! 9 % * * * *
"Just above us was a wagon with a' small party emigrant®.
They had lost most of thiir cattle on thejourney; and the father
of three of tUem Saving difed on the toad, they, in conformity
with his! dying wishes,^ were now on their returri to the; settle¬
ments. "A short distance beyond them, we found another small
company, who had been encamped here for twelve days on ac¬
count of the illness of one of their comrades. They also were
on their return. Had we been going on a private enterprize,
discouragements were not wanting as well from the dead as
from the living."—Expedition to Salt Lake?1 p. 21. Vid* tt. pp.
16, 16. From the newspaper accounts the difficulties are not
less to-day.
Note (7c) Page"l9—Line 18.
Of Indian warrior laid in stafe-*-
"About one and a half miles abov<e the crossing, b new In¬
dian lodge was seen standing entirely alone. A fact so unusual
attracted our curiosity ; upon going to the place, iff was found
* to contain the body of an Indian (probably a chief) raised upon
a low platform or bier, surrounded by alj, the implements be¬
lieved by these simple children of the Forest ta be necessary
forhia"u6e in the spirit-land. The lodge was carefully and se¬
curely fastened down at the bottom!, to protect its charge from
" the wolves. It was an affecting sjjpctacle. *His last battle
fought,'his last hunt over, here he lay in tfi% solitude of death,
abandoned by wife and child^an^ all he roved, yet surrounded
by the tokens of their parting care»the rude proofs of a love
that followed him to an'tinkaown hereafter."—Expedition to
Salt Lake, p. 49.
Note, (7fPage^20—Linh $
*4They met nexi\day the peaceful S^aulc—
" In the afteijnoon we,were met by a fmall band of Sauk In¬
dians. ifhey. were, rather' a fine looking body of men, and
seemed quitd jieaceablv disposed? to Salt Lake,
pape.ll- If ^
Note (m) Page 20—Line
Oftsigns adopted on thi&road—
" There was oxfe circumstance^, how ever, that a^racted my
attention, in this interview with trace untutored sons of the For¬
est more than any other; and that was the perfection and pre-
42 NOTES.
- *■■■■ 1 1 u
W %
Cisioii to which they appear to have^-educed a system of purely
arbitrary and conventional signs, by which, all over this vast
region, intercourse, though of a*limited character, may be held
between tribes who are perfect strangers to each others' tongne.
After partaking of 'such food as could be hastily prepared for
♦hem, the principal men seated themselves on the ground, t in
a circle, around the campfire in front pf the tent* and the pipe
of peace was filled and1 duly circulated in 'regular succession.
Our esteemed friend and experienced mouptaineer, Major Brid-
ger, who was personally known to many of our visitors," and to
all of them by the repute of his numerous exploits, was seated
among us. Although intimately acquainted with the language
of the Crows, Blackfeetj and most of, the tribes "West and North
"West of the Rocky Mountain Chain, he was unable to speak to
either the Sioux of" Cheyennes in their own tongue, or that of
any tribe which.they could understand. Notwithstanding thir,
he held the whole circle, for more than an hour, perfectly en¬
chained,. and evidently most deeply interested in h conversation
and narrative, jth.e whole of which was carried on without the
utterance of a single word. The simultaneous exclamations.-of
surprise or interest, and the Occasional bursts of hearty laugh¬
ter, showed that the whole party perfectly understood not only
the theme, hut the minutiae of the pantomime exhibited before
them. I looked on with close attention, but the signs to me
were for the most part altogether unintelligible. Upon after
fenquiry, I found that this language of signs is uuiversally under¬
stood by all the tribes."—Expedition to Salt Lake, p. 254.
There is a disposition on the part of some ef the Craft to regard
these signs as q corrupted Masonry. I cannot think them any
other than the primitive language of mankind. That the In¬
dians have, however, a Secret Society, owning a mystic tie,
*the objects of which are in seme degree hoth moral and charita¬
ble, I have been inforrpei by an intelligent Choctaw Brother,
and believe. But the signs belonging to this Society are very
different from those tonsvhich some, by a forced interpretation,
Would assign a Masonic origin, §
i
Note (») Page 20—June
And then they rested, and 'renevdk—
The camp rented, it having been determined, froli the oom-
taencement of the expedition to deyote this day (the Sabbath)
whenever practicable, to its legitimate purposes, as' an interval
of rest for maa*end beast. I here beg to record as the result of
my expedience, derived pot bnly from the present journey, but
from the observation of many years spent in the performance of
similar duties, that, as a mere matter of pecuniary consideration,
apart from all higher obligation^, it is wiserto keep the Sabbath!
NOTES. 43
—— ' , _ I ^
More workman be bbtained* from both men and animals by ita
observance, than where the whole Seven days are uninterrupfc-
^a^>ouh"~*~jS''l!Pedifio» to Salt Lake, p. 22.
^. While I take plea3urfe in# thus noticing this testimony "or
Lieut. Stansbury in behalf of the observance of the Sabbath, it
will be pereetve<rby the intelligent Brother, thafj the hero (if
a® ™ay °e called such) of the poem, does not betray ignorance
orfche teaching of the nr3t Great Light on this head. *
Notd (o) Page 21—Line 25. '
And anchored, with unfailing stone—
" The Lord is my Rock and my fortress, and my deliverer'1—
Ps. xvnt. Or, as the Version af the Common Prayer Book hath
it. " The Lord is my stony Rock and my defence, my Savjour
and my God." "The stone which the builders rejected
hath bneoihe the headyif the cornet?"—Mark xii. 10. Recor¬
ding to the prophecy, " Thus saifh the Lord God. Behold I
lay in Zion for a foundation, a Stone, a tried Stone, a precious
Corner Stone, 'h Bure Foundation: he that believqth shall not
make haste."—Is. xxvm. 16.
Kote(pj Page 21—Line-85.
,Twas midnight—and tfie "emailed Wain"—
" It was here that we first saw a train "corailed," The wag¬
ons were drawn up in the form of % circle .and chained together,
leaving a small opening at but one place, through which the
cattle were driven into the enclosed space at night and guarded.
The arrangement is an excellent one, and rendered impossible
what is called, in Western phrase, a "stampede"—a mode of
assault, practised by Indistas, for the ptfrpose of carrying off cat¬
tle or horses, in which, if possible, they set, loose some pi the
animals, and so frighten the rest as to produce & general and
confused flight ofjthe ifhole. To a few determined men, wag¬
ons thus arranged form a breastwork, exceedingly difficult to
be carried by any for^e of undisciplined savages.'J—Expedition
to Salt Lake, p. 1*6. * . ,
#The assault described in the text was no# of this bold char¬
acter, but a quiet one, depending more on noiseless sfealth for
ita success than the alarm and confusiqta oftbg ^stampede."
' ...» ^
Note (q) Pagq,23—fine 16.
The Pawnee robbers of £he Plain—-
" Very early in the morning it ujas discovered that t"hree
horses from our herd had been stolen duping the night, aqd that
so adroitly as not to occasion the slightest noise, although our
44 JTOTES.
. —
animals were all picketed in the very centra 'of the catpp and
withinl* few feet of the teats. * * * * * *
" The Robbers were Pawnees, and had evidently been watch¬
ing, ever.Binee oar arrival, as they had selected the very best
Jjoj-aes in both trains, &a-—Expedition to Bolt Lake, pp. 22, 23.
* J
Note (r) Page 23—Line 36.
Though not before Earlh cried to Cain—
The prosopopoeia in the text may appear violent to the general
reader; bat t^one at all familiar with Oriental imagination and
imagery, it will eeem natural enough. In*a note to the Koran
Chap. 2, Sale tells us " The Mahomedans have several peculiar
traditions concerning the creation of Adam. They say, the An¬
gels Gabriel, Michael and Israfil were sent by God, one after
another, £o fetch for that purposp seven handfuls of earth from
different depths, and of different colours; (whence some account
fop thp different complexions of mankind) but the Earth, being
apprehensive of the consequence, and desiring them, to represent
her fear to God that the creation he designed to form, would, rebel
against him, and draw down his curse upon her, they returned
Ac." If such was tiie Earth's sensibility then, it is not a violent
figure, surely, to make her reproachful of Cain (the first mur¬
derer) at the murderous shedding of human blood, now. At least
it would not be to an Oriental imagination.
• 'Ah,—bht—' says some Brother—'this story is far Western
and not Eastern.' True, my Brother! you are right, we will
adjourn the question to the next meeting, with this remark,
however,—that if you jmsh the longitude far enough, it would
be Eastern again. And, in the operations of the Imagination,
there is no Eastern, non Western—no Northern, nor Southern.
Note (a) Paj»e 31—Line 12.
For, at his head, th&JSlii^im, tree—
The Shittjm tree of the''Old Tesfament was a species of Aca¬
cia. Jn the " Expedition to the Salt Lake^' I have not found
any notice of the Acacia on the " EmigrankRoad;" but accord¬
ing to Lieut. Herndon, it grows in great quantities in the val¬
ley of the Amazpfy The -transplantingais allowable Here.
Note( t) Page 31—?Line 31.
For ancient work of human art—
A About a mile fromTDry^Sandy, some masses of rock were
observed on the right of the road, standing up like pillars; they
were found tp be composed of a "coarse sandstone, of an ochrey
tolor"
jforaai.
45
" ABeending tbe Western slope of the Black Hills by a very
gentle rise, we followed the trail of our oarty, passing between
low cliffs and detached masses of red and grey sandstone, worn
into isolated pillars, hillocks and other forms by the notion of
the el|mentB."—Expedition to Salt take, pp. 11.267.
Note (w) Page 33—Line 25.
Cut off by Cholera, or the Drought—
" The dholera had, for a considerable time, been raging .on
the Missouri; and as we passed up, fearful rumours of its preva¬
lence and fatality among the Emigrants Oh the route daily
rehched us from the Plains."-—Expedition to Salt take, p.T4.
Note (v) Page 34—Line 4.
fo know for this he lost his soul—
"As the partridge* sitteth on eggs and hatcheth them not;
so he that getteth riches and not by right, shall leave them in
the midst of his days, and at his end shall be a fooL"—Jer.
xvn. 11. . * .
" For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world
and lose his own eonl."—Mat. xvt. 26.
POEMS.
POEMS.
WHERE FROM BROTHER?
E. A.
Where fronf Brother—poor and lonely,
Stripped of every outward gift,
Carrying -vyith thee virtues only.
Values of which thou'rt ne'er bereft?—
"From a country dark and cheerless,
A land I've ealled too long my home,
Where man is sick and never fearless,
Sad and sorrowful 1 Cefne.'A
Where to Brother—since thy spirit
Hath turned from all that once was thine,
And left the home thou did,st inherit,
Where to now <foth thbu incline ?
"Unto the tasf, where God's revftihn^
Taught the Jew in shadowy sign,
Taught the Gentile words of he^lipg,
Dropped fifQtp He^cnly ^ps^y^?.''
i)r-.-v ,ri foiiuM.l-j it-/
Pass on Brother, and God speed thee!
Remember that the law is Love,, ,r
fsjWH-ed^-fr'ctolBrofhei^9£iSdb^plhm"ing,
:d&
-•* hi »:> > hi-->r r.'.ii !'•): fT
POEMS.
——- fr— * 1 ' "
"From the plaee where last I met thee,
Words of comfort yet I hear,
Words for which I'll ne'er forget thee,
From the altar, lo, I^tm here/'
Where to Brother—onward pressing1,
With loins still girded for the race,
Unto the task thy soul addressing,
Seal of Resolve,upon thy face f—
"Eastward still my steps are tending,
Eager to win the distant goal,
The law thou gavest still commending,
Fresh efforts, hourly, to my soul"
Pass on, brother, and God speed thee!
Remember that the law is love,
Duty toj)av, thou'lt ever heed thee
phain to draw thee up above.
M. M.
•
Where from Brother—still advancing,
strength increasing, each degree,
Thinp eye* m faith, still onward glancing,
®2%.y faith inspiring faith in thee?—
" Still from the place where last I rested,
Thy words of comfort cheering still,
,J come with kindling hope invested
Xnd arf indomitable will."
Where to Brother—thy powers renewing,
Rising from the cheerices grave,
Thee the Almighty Master wooing,
With his unfailing word to save?—
"Oh, still my steps are onward tending,
With eye from self-ihopght turned abroad,
Fearless, the rugged road asehding,
Travellin^ upward to my God."
POSMS. #1
Pafes on, Brother, and God speed thee!
Remember that the law is Love,
fhity to pay thou'lt ever heed thee,
Chain, to draw thee np above.
THE SOTJHD OF THE GAVEL.
The sound of *the gavel—say, Brother, dost hear!
The trowel is ready, the plummet and line—
'Tis the call of thPilaster, Oh! give it thine ear,
Therp is wort for the Brethren, and we too "must join.
If true 'men, we will not be idle to-dgy,;
The tressel-board spreads -oufc a gloriou^ plan—
The ailing to visit, the failing stay.
Who eapnoi do all, will do all that he «?an.
In every sufferer a Brother we hail,?
The mark of humanity's all tl^a^we claim;
Creeds, colors, no^ tongues can ever prevail
To check the sweet char'tie^ which flow flotn our name.
« * *
?
We'll weep with the mourner, if we cannot relievp^
Pour oil of gladness fn the traveller's wpund—»
Be early to labor, reluctant to leave—
Ever attentive wh#n the gavel shall sound.
There is work J:d perform—if*nothing out-door •
Demands our efforts, there is plenty within—
Ohr passions to curb and our errors to cure,
And the strong cord of union to put upon Sin.
We've virtues to practise and vices to heal;
The work we have done with each«other compare—
Each Brother with Brother co-striving for w$*il,
And the joy of the whole in common to share.
POEMS. „
And if one Brother, now, falls short of his task,
Be each ready to help and give ofliis own,
For the Overseer's square will £ot stpp to fesk
Whos^ ashler it is, when tht: work is well done.
And thus, when the Grand Master's gavel on high,
Brother, thou hear'st at tha> last terrible day,
Like trump of archangel resound,through the sky,
* Thou wilt noLdesire, at his call, here to 6tay ;
But hast'ing, like one who returns to his home,
When absence hath taught him to ^alue its joy,
Thou'lt fly on the wings of that morning to come,
To the light of that Master's lifp-giving eye.
And remember, though worthless thy work*shall prove
Thy Brother abovp, of his labor divine,
Will give the4 instead, and—adorable love!—
That Master, forfeit sake, will pass it for thine.
BE GOOD AND TBTJE.
*The day-god, in the East uprising,
Leans, with his kiss Jhe Earth to greet,
Who now, the offering proudly prizing,
.Her breath of incense wafts to meet.
'Tis thus the Soul, fair Vfirtue heeding,
Leaps into life beneath her view,
While Masonry is ever pleading—
PYe Sons of Light be good and true!'
The day-god, in the South, at ijiooning,
More ardent burns with glowing flame,
And Earth, her pulse te his attuning,
—»raqm# j^-s incorporates in her frame.
'"'"Thus dbth the Soul, through Virtue's teaching,
*Like her become attractive too,
POEMS. 53
_ -" ] "'r~ ^ ""F—
While Masonry is still beseeching—
* Ye sons of Light be good a^d trua! '
The day-god, in the West, at setting,
His hope-inspiring dtaiile bestows^
And*Earth, her sorrows soon forgetting,
Betakes her to her calm repose.
Thus foo the soul^at Time's last fleeting,
On Virtue rests for hope anew,
Whilq ^Masonry is still repeating,
'^Te Sons of Light bo good a,nd true!'
SONNETS.
FAITH.
O thou! who, with inspiring vision clear,
Look'st upward to the throne of Go^ above,
And resTute point'st the trembling spirit there, *
' Made strong in weakness, through Redeeming Love;
Oh, Faith! sustaining Faith ! oh, let me prove
The strength by thee on fainting hearts conferred,
And with Ihy courage through my Being wove,
Cheered hv the promise of His Holy Word*
Through thy awakening sense, now plainly heard,
1 Too great for thee I will not make thy 4oa<L'
With ^patient energy and boldness stirred*
TreacLfirmer o'er Life's rough and rugged road,
''Till Thou—the struggle past, and fought the fight—
In th' Empyrean sky, art swallowed up iu Sight.
«
HOPE.
Daughter Faith! "Whose fluke, within the veil,
Anctfora the soul with steadfast hold and sure,
Supporting Hop%! be thine, when storms assai^
And all their fury «n my spiri^pdur,
To Mercy's throne more firmly still to j$oort
54, f OEMS.
V - •»- .. — . ■■.■j.»i.>.l.,,^.
Stillfeethy loved and cheering presence nigh,
Though blackest tempests o'er Life's seasons lower,
Rainbow of promise in the angry sky,
Forwer welcome to my anxious eye,
Upraising—inspiring still my feeble heart
To^esn with trust upon the Grace on high,
Who was and is, and will be yet my part,
When all Earth's glories to red wreck are tost,
And thou, thyself/oh Hope! art in FfuitionJost.
CHARITY.
Imperishable Charity!—even here
Giver of life,—without whose gracious, aid
Man's days were barren of all bounteous cheer,
Be this my-prayer, to Holy Heaven made—
Thy precious gifts, unmeasured and unweighed,
Giving^and receiving both,—through Time's flight,
May I thy constant benefits see displayed—
To all dispensed, where'er the golden light
Of Heaven's owla orb doth greet poor mortals' sight;
* And, like . His love, whose opening hand doth fill
All creatures, through His bounty, with delight,
Be never-ending—never-failing, 'till ■
My eoul, o'ercoming Death, escaping Hell,
Be suffered^ at the last, with Thee and God to dwell