g:j-r 
 
 !'iSf5p?5— ; 
 
 
 ^«^^i^^^ 
 
 ^ Miscellanies of Fulkerson : 
 
 EMBODYING HIS 
 
 jf LATEST AND BEST PRODTOTIONS 
 
 W 
 
 IN PROSE AND POETRY. 
 
 
 LOUISVILLE: \ 
 
 iTANXA A dt:xcan, prixters, corner TniP.n & matx. 
 , 1866. / 
 
 , -^^->:zzr'--^:^--5::i:i?--M^->-::z:>' —a:?: 
 
Miscellanies of Fulkerson: 
 
 EMBODYING HIS 
 
 LATEST AND BEST PRODUCTIONS 
 
 IN PKOSEl AND POEITRY. 
 
 LOUISVILLE : 
 
 HANNA & DUNCAN, PRINTERS, CORNER THIRD & MAIN. 
 1866. 
 
75 n^*^ 
 
 DEDICATIOK 
 
 I take great pleasure in dedicating this vol- 
 ume to my old and highly esteemed friend, 
 Judge R. A. BuRTOT^, of Marion county, Ken- 
 tucky. 
 
 A. F. 
 
 Louisville, September, 18G6. 
 
 Souroo unknown 
 
L ioeiiME^ m wm^m. 
 
 ANDREW JOHNSON. 
 
 Hurrah for Andrew Johnson! 
 
 And a thousand cheers for him, 
 May his years on earth be many 
 
 And his ftime grow never dim ; 
 With the men of moral courage 
 ■ Who lived and died for truth, 
 He shall live in after ages 
 
 In green, immortal youth, 
 Uninjured by the missiles 
 
 Which envious men have thrown 
 To wound his free, great spirit 
 
 Battling for the right aione. 
 When millions have departed, 
 
 Who strove to blast his name, 
 His country's thrilling story 
 
 Shall brighten with his fame ; 
 Historians will remember 
 
 And faithfully relate 
 Those deeds which mark him hero 
 
 In the annals of the great — 
 Deeds not of war, but better. 
 
 The deeds of glorious mind 
 Still seeking gently, ever 
 
 The Nation's wounds to bind, 
 Still striving, working onward, 
 
 Mid scorn and bitter hate 
 To save our bleeding country 
 
 From dark disunion's fate. 
 Not always in the battle, 
 
 Where carnage strews the ground 
 
4 
 
 Mid the conflict's roar and tliunder, 
 
 Are the truest heroes found ; 
 There is a higher courage 
 
 Than that which gains the field 
 "Where to o'erwhelming numbers 
 
 Sometimes the brave must yield ; 
 The great high soul, undaunted 
 
 By faction's hellish rage, 
 Who meets the storm unshaken 
 
 Will live on history's page, 
 Where lesser heroes perish 
 
 From the records of renown, 
 Who fought like very demons 
 
 Mid the battle's awful frown. 
 Where many rush together 
 
 To overwhelm the foe, 
 And shoulder unto shoulder 
 
 To fiercest conflict go — 
 The crowd in surging masses 
 
 Borne onward with the wave 
 Are moved by what hath often 
 
 Made even cowards brave ; 
 They feel the wild contagion, 
 
 They hear the death storm rave — 
 And blind with passion's fury 
 
 Bush onward to the grave. 
 But is there not full often 
 
 A loftier bravery seen, 
 More pure and more unselfish, 
 
 More holy and serene. 
 Wherein the dauntless statesman 
 
 Confronts a host alone, 
 Who would o'er freedom's ruins 
 
 Erect a tyrant's throne ? 
 Who swerves not from his purpose 
 
 To save his native land. 
 Though million blows are dealt him 
 
 By faction's impious hand. 
 And thus doth Andrew Johnson 
 
Still by his country stand — 
 A moral-courage hero — 
 
 Steadfast, unawed and grand ; 
 The breath of hate is on him 
 
 And envy's scowling gaze, 
 His thoughtful nights are weary, 
 
 And troubled are his days : 
 But like a tameless eagle 
 
 With eye fixed on the sun, 
 He'll travel grandly forward 
 
 Until his warfare's done — 
 Until the holy warfare 
 
 He wages 'gainst the foes 
 Of freedom, truth and justice 
 
 In victory shall close ; 
 Until the hosts now aiming 
 
 Their country's overthrow, 
 Are by an outraged people 
 
 Consigned to shame and woe. 
 And the Union of our fathers, 
 
 The hallowed of all time, 
 Redeemed and reconstructed 
 
 Shall proudly stand sublime. 
 The work of those whose wisdom 
 
 And deathless love combined 
 Have left its glorious blessings 
 
 Heir-looms to all mankind. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF AN EVENING 
 WITH A POETESS. 
 
 It is a long time, and yet it does not seem so very long. 
 It is a great while, indeed, since that memorable evening, 
 80 vividly impressed on my mind, was passed ia company 
 with one of the most gifted, and yet the most artless and 
 unconscious of earthly women. 
 
 She had genius and talent, both combined ; she could 
 both conceive and execute. Her songs flowed like a 
 bright and gushing river, from the depths of her pure, 
 
6 
 
 young heart, and woke in others' bosoms a wild melody 
 akin to that which stirred her own. Many an eye grew 
 moist over the thrilling pathos of her lines, and gentle and 
 innocent and unsuspecting natures sent back the echoes 
 of her artless song, and felt their souls all thrilled with 
 that ecstatic bliss which springs from raptures born of 
 poring over the minstrel's page — that mirrors all that's 
 beautiful and true and tender and divine in life — all that's 
 lovely in the outer world — all that s bright and dear, or 
 grand and gorgeous in the illuminated spirit's inmost 
 temples. In her glorious verse, the blue heavens wore a 
 deeper blue, and the bright stars glowed with a serener 
 light, and the winds of evening breathed a sweeter music, 
 and the streamlets flowed with Foftcr sound, and the flow- 
 ers blushed with deeper bloom than that which nature 
 seemed to give. The rainbow's gorgeous tints seemed 
 scattered over the pages of her volume, and its leaves ap- 
 peared almost to rustle with the twilight breeze, whose 
 whispering melodies they bore ! 
 
 I had read her poetry with the enthusiasm of a devotee, 
 and longed to see the enchantress whose faiy fingers 
 
 " Had woke to ecstasy the liviDg lyre," 
 and thrilled its strings with a melody that sent its echoes 
 back from all hearts which loved the beaautiful and true. 
 My imagination had arrayed her in the garb of some ro- 
 mantic being almost too bright, too beautiful for earth, and 
 I was not, in the interview, fated to that disappointment 
 which so often attends those who meet the illustrious for 
 the first time, and find them instead of being those angelic 
 looking personages whose pictures their warm ianoy had 
 previously drawn, but common, every day sort of mortals 
 at best, who look and act and converse like other people. 
 
 Such was not the case in this instance. I was disap- 
 pointed in not being disappointed. She fully came up to 
 my expectations. She looked the poetess she was. Her 
 sunny ringlets fell in profusion on her shoulders. Her 
 dark eyes were full of enthusiasm, and her lips were 
 wreathed with eloquence, and she walked like a vision of 
 poesy incarnate. She glided into the room where I sat 
 
waiting, and was in my presence ere I was aware. I arose 
 and bowed, and advancing towards her, observed: This is 
 Mrs.**'^^-^ W*'!^**, I suppose. She responded affirmative- 
 ly, and asked me my name, which I gave her. She then 
 shook hands with mc and desired me to be seated, remark- 
 ing at the same time, that she was indeed glad that I had 
 called to see her. Be it understood, I had ignored the 
 formalities of an introduction, and had no card, but sent 
 in my message verbally, by the servant. 
 
 We entered at once into conversation, which took, of 
 course, rather a discursive literary range. We talked 
 mostly of the earlier and later poets of England and Amer- 
 ica, and I remember quoting freely from Byron, of whom 
 I was then and am still, a devout admirer. 
 
 Neither she nor I had hardly as yet, (for we were both 
 young,) begun to feel the full force of Longfellow's words: 
 
 *< Life is earnest, life is real ;" 
 but visions of splendor— hopes of fame and earthly grand- 
 eur — never to be realized here, were omv. — dreams of some- 
 thing glorious but intangible in coming life, which that 
 life and its cold experiences, always convince^ the heart, 
 were delusions and fantasies, inevitably to be dissipated in 
 the rough contact with the practical world. She asked me 
 " if I loved music and wished a song." I told her tint I 
 did. She immediately seated herself at the piano and 
 warbled forth one of her own plaintively touching, and 
 wildly beautiful songs. I listened to the melody and watch- 
 ed the glorious play of her illuminated features, as her 
 supple fingers stole over the keys of the instrument, and 
 called forth the hidden mysteries of exquisite harmony 
 dwelling therein, and her voice tuned to the utterance of a 
 pure, voung gifted soul, woke within mine own, respon- 
 sive cadences, that still are answering back to hers, thro' 
 the long roll of checkered years which since have fled. 
 For the memories of that hour pass not away from my 
 heart, whose holiest moments are ever in the past. 
 
 I arose and bade her good evening. I had spent an 
 hour in the company of a true poetess, and the records of 
 that hour were stamped upon the tablets of my memory, 
 never to bo effaced. 
 
8 
 
 With many wishes for her happiness, and a thousand 
 gympathies with the growing fame of one whose cunning 
 hand had touched the Ijre of my country with wooing ten- 
 derness, and called from ita inner depths the strains that 
 could not die, I regretfully turned away from her enchant- 
 ing presence. I sought the street, and under the cloud- 
 less sky of a calm October nighlj while the stars were 
 kindly glittering from their homes above, Iwent forth in- 
 to the world again to mingle with its sordid scenes and be 
 lost among the multitude contending upon its busy stage. 
 The quiet of the hour, the tranquil silence of the city, 
 the repose of the calm and glorious night, threw around 
 me the pensive spell of a pleasing melancholy, and I 
 sought my hotel to sleep or rather to dream of what the 
 great future held in reserve for one, who like me, was 
 going forth then for his first time, in search of wealth, or 
 fame, or what the voyage of life might yield 
 
 Since then the shifcing changes of fortune, the vicissi- 
 tudes of life and the war of passions and of hopes have 
 left their impress on my brow, and sprinkled gray hairs 
 upon my head, but from my heart are banished not the 
 recollections of that evening with a poete.-s. 
 
 With me, the young romance of life is gone, and all 
 that gave it zest, is slumbering in the dim mysterious past. 
 The beautiful spirit that has called these tender mem- 
 ories from its hallowed miusions has long since flown 
 to its God, and over the sainted repose of its mouldering 
 tenement the birds of summer are warbling their sweet- 
 est notes, and the loveliest flowers are yielding their rich- 
 est incense and daintiest bloom. 
 
 The harp her fingers touched on earth is tuned to an- 
 gel-music now, and round her brow the immortal ama- 
 ranth is twined. The "Rainbow" over arching that sky 
 — forever grand and glorious meets her view, and climes 
 more gorgeous and lovely than ever "Pulpit Eloquence" 
 portrayed, are now the everlasting abode of her who 
 heard from this low orb its seraph strains enchanted — 
 till she went away from here through the dark portals of 
 death to wake and sing forever there ! 
 Louisville, Jupe 18th, 1866. 
 
9 
 
 I KNEW HER HEART IN SILENCE 
 WEPT. 
 
 STANZAS FOR MUSIC. 
 
 She had no sadness on her brow, 
 
 She was as wild a bird that night 
 As ever trilled his merry song, 
 
 Or heaven-ward winged his happy flight ! 
 The sorrows of her soul unseen 
 
 Far down the depths of mem'ry slept, 
 But though her face was wreathed with smiles, 
 
 I KNEW HER HEART IN SILENCE WEPT ! 
 
 The idle laugh and sportive jest 
 Amid the glad and gay went round, 
 
 And footsteps light as zephyr's breath, 
 Kept time to music's merry sound ! 
 
 And o'er the lute and light guitar 
 
 By turns her trembling fingers swept, 
 
 But though her face was wreathed with smiles, 
 
 I KNEW HER HEART IN SILENCE WEPT ! 
 
 She was my first, fond love, I trow, 
 'Mid happiest hours of trusting youth, 
 
 But heeded well another's vow 
 
 Nor heard mine own whose words were truth ; 
 
 And well she might in sadnesa cling 
 
 To hopes and joys that long hath slept — 
 
 What though her face was wreathed with smiles, 
 
 I KNEW HER HEART IN SILENCE WEPT ! 
 
 But I forgive you, darling one, 
 
 Take back the dream your beauty gave, 
 To waste the wild flower's blooming sun, 
 
 Whose shadows sleep upon your grave ! 
 But in yon cloudless climes above 
 
 By angel-wings forever swept. 
 You know that there, my darling love, 
 
 They weep no more who here have wept ! 
 
10 
 A STROLL OX BROADWAY. 
 
 On last Sunday, besidea listening to a fine sermon and 
 attending Sanday-School, and a Bible Class under the di* 
 recfcion of an eminent clergyman of this city — wherein 
 certain biblical and theological ideas were received and 
 exchanged between the cla?s, our humble self, and the 
 minister, we treated ourself to a magnificent stroll up 
 and down Broadway ; that loveliest street of all this love- 
 ly world. It is some seven miles long; extending from 
 the Bardstown turn-pike-road gate to Portland, which 
 measures about that distance under the chain. 
 
 Its famed namesake of the goodly city of Gotham, has 
 no such length. Neither is there its equal in that respect 
 in London or Paris. Its width is ninety feet, and its 
 pavements on each side, as far as laid down, measure twen- 
 ty feet in width. It is shaded on each side by beautiful 
 trees — now putting forth their buds and blossoms, and 
 leafing out — and sending forth delicious odors on the 
 winds — such as make it a luxury to breathe the scented 
 atmosphere that floats up and down its long, delightful 
 vistas 
 
 Like Obidab, the son of Aben Haspan, " who left the 
 Caravansera early one morning and journeyed through 
 the plains of Ilindostan," I learned that the journey of 
 a day, yea less than a day, "was a picture of human life." 
 For though our ears were not greeted like his, *' with the 
 earliest morning songs of the bird of Paradise," yet our 
 cheeks were ianned by as sweet scented gales as ever 
 breathed over the happy land where the soft-eyed Lo- 
 tus-eaters dream away their vision-blest lives on the 
 iale of Ablondo the Great. 
 
 And we saw on the happy Sabbath morning as the 
 crowd of passengers, male and female, pedestrian and on 
 horseback, in barouches and in the saddle, excited and 
 contemplative, anon with hurrying footsteps, and anon 
 with leisure tread, that, the stroll of an hour, as well as 
 the journey of a day, " was a picture of human life" pre- 
 sented to the eye in vivid and lasting colors. For each 
 one there was individualized in his or her particular, 
 
ii 
 
 pleasurable pursuit — cliasing with Argus-eyed search that 
 phantom — bliss, that mocked them still, and mocks us all 
 — but beckons ever onward to the better land. For 
 hope springing eternal in the human breast, proclaims we 
 *' never are but always to be blessed," — so said Pope — so 
 said Plato a long time before him — and so, greater and 
 better than either — than all — said the Saviour of men, 
 " who spake as never man spake." 
 
 Into these reflections I was led in my stroll, from 
 having heard the Christian's faith so eloquently and ably 
 set forth by the talented pastor whose church we had at- 
 tended. 
 
 Happy and beautiful Broadway ! May the sweet songs 
 of thy singing birds never cease and the voices of the 
 merry children of thy sidewalks be never hushed. May 
 the gay and young, as well as the aged and infirm — the 
 faint and weary — the afflicted and the strong, the humble 
 and the great — the servant and his lord — the mistress and 
 her maid — still seek thy sunny bowers in the morning 
 dews of life, as time with tirele&s tramp, still marches on 
 — and a million of balmy April Sabbath morns shall bless 
 the denizens of Louisville in their glad return — till the 
 empire of commerce shall have long since appropriated 
 the Broadway of to-day — and another, yet lovelier, longer, 
 and more lustrious than the first, shall mark the limits of 
 Louisville — with its lofry palaces and flower-gommed gar- 
 dens, resting 
 
 " On tho banks of old Salt Eiver, 
 
 Where giant branches fling 
 Their shadowy arras above us, 
 
 In the quiet hour of spring." 
 
 MAMMOTH CAVE. 
 
 RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO L. J. PROCTER, ESQ. 
 
 Down in the cavernous depths below 
 Where the silent waters in darkness flow, 
 Domes and pillars and columns grand 
 Unseen are wrought by nature's hand ; 
 
12 
 
 In the noiseless realms far away from the sun 
 
 Where her wonderful works in the ages are done, 
 
 Where gems are glowing no eye hath seen, 
 
 And rivers are coursing their way serene, 
 
 'Twixt voiceless shores in the fathomless caves, 
 
 And man nor beast hath drank of their waves ; 
 
 Where down in the depths of their rayless home 
 
 The eyeless fish disporting roam, 
 
 And eternal night on her starless throne 
 
 In silence and darkness reigns alone ; 
 
 And the sightless bat in his mansions of gloom 
 
 Flits ever and anon through each desolate room, 
 
 Away from the world that is living above — 
 
 Far away from its mansions of madness and love, 
 
 Far away from the scenes of the country or town, 
 
 And their sultry abodes our steps have come down, 
 
 To wander all day through the wonderful cave. 
 
 Unto which the dread name of Mammoth men gave. 
 
 For its chambers are high and its avenues long 
 
 And roof and walls are compact and strong, 
 
 And a city that's hidden far under the ground 
 
 All tenantless here in the darkness is found, 
 
 Reared by the Builder who fashioned the sun 
 
 And pronounced all good when his work was done. 
 
 And the silent works of ten thousand years 
 
 Were formed by the water's trickling tears ; 
 
 Drop by drop did each crystal come 
 
 To make the column and rear the dome, 
 
 Till palace and tower and minaret 
 
 Rose from the floor and the great roof met, 
 
 And spars of beauty and temples grand 
 
 Were reared unseen in the silent land. 
 
 And here where curious footsteps roam, 
 
 Behold fair *'Lucy's" lovely "Dome," 
 
 Wearing the sweet bewitching name 
 
 Of her who gave its wonders to fame. 
 
 And still is living this world to bless 
 
 With her soul and form's fair loveliness. 
 
 And the " Chamber of Stars" bewildering the sight 
 
 With its saphire gems like jewels of night 
 
13 
 
 That flash in its heavens like planets of love, 
 Which look down on us from the far skies above. 
 Mysterious Cave of the awful and grand, 
 By *' Echo's river " I musingly stand, 
 And think what day in the annals of time 
 Its stream burst forth, to wander sublime 
 In the regions remote from the mansions of men, 
 Through the silent plain and the voiceless glen, 
 Flowing forever through lonely caves, 
 And hearing no sound but the song of its waves. 
 In fancy I roam through ages long past. 
 And ponder alone in these caverns so vast; 
 But lost in conjecture my thoughts turn away 
 To seek the bright world in the regions of day. 
 Mammoth Cave, Ky,. July 30, 1866. 
 
 ALICE LEEDOM. 
 
 Written on seeing her picture at the reaidence of Dr. H. Slaughter 
 Elizabethtown, Kentucky. 
 
 In that sweet picture I behold 
 
 The winning smile, the gentle grace. 
 And thoughtful look, such as of old. 
 
 In brighter days I loved to trace — 
 In brighter days long passed away. 
 
 When lovely Alice walked this earth 
 A creature joyous, bright, and gay, 
 
 The cynosure of wit and mirth. 
 
 Alas for human hopes and joys ! 
 
 Alas for pleasures which we prize ! 
 The things we love time still destroys — 
 
 There's nought that's safe this side the skiesl 
 I thought when last I saw thy face, 
 
 Thou would'st have lived for many years. 
 That home refined to deck and grace, 
 
 Where but thy picture now appears I 
 
14 
 
 Gone from the friends that loved thee well — 
 
 Gone from all grief or cares below — 
 In heaven I know that thou dost dwell. 
 
 And what else should I care to know? 
 My faith informs me I shall meet 
 
 The loved of earth beyond the grave, 
 The Good Book gives us knowledge sweet 
 
 That Jesus died all men to save. 
 
 Fes, in that higher, better clime, 
 
 Where thou, sweet Alice, now dost live. 
 Our souls shall triumph over time 
 
 And there to God our praises give. 
 There is no thorn upon the path 
 
 Where now thy gentle steps shall stray, 
 There is no frowniug cloud of wrath 
 
 To darken o'er thine endless day. 
 
 The skies on which thou now dost look 
 
 Are ever pure, serene, and clear, 
 Thy footsteps roam by " Siloa's brook," 
 
 Thou bjcathest heaven's own atmosphere. 
 There is no pain nor sorrow there. 
 
 No broken hearts that mourn for rest, 
 No wailing notes of keen despair 
 
 Disturb those mansions of the blest. 
 
 I leave thee there ; my thoughts have been 
 
 Where thou dost roam in cloudless blisH, 
 Far, far beyond the pain — the sin 
 
 Abounding in a world like this. 
 Consoled by faith sublime that thou 
 
 Art with thy God foievermore, 
 I go refreshed and strengthened now 
 
 To muse and wander as of yore ! 
 
15 
 
 MUSINGS m CAVE HILL CEMETERY. 
 
 A few days ago I took a ramble thro' Cave Hill 
 Cemetery, that quiet and beautiful city of the dead. 
 Away from the dusty streets of town and the thronged 
 avenues of trade, I lingered awhile among the de- 
 parted, and learned wisdom from their silence, and 
 resignation and hope from the sweet yet solemn 
 scene spread in mournful loveliness around me. 
 The white monuments of marble that glittered in 
 the clear sunshine of a cloudless day, were emblems 
 of the innocence and purity of the tranquil sleep of 
 death, unruffled by the distorting dreams of pas- 
 sion, and undisturbed by the evil imaginings or 
 unhappy regrets of living men. 
 
 In that sanctuary at last the troubled heart lies 
 still, and the afflicted cease to mourn. Envy and 
 ambition are alike powerless to harm their rest. 
 To those silent mansions of their long repose, grief 
 and care and wrong shall never come. Above 
 them in spring the earliest birds shall sing their 
 blithest songs ; the blossomed wealth of summer 
 shall dispense its fragrance to the winds that wan- 
 der over them; the autumn shall strew its faded 
 leaves around their tombs, and winters spotless 
 mantle of snow shall cover the sloping hill sides 
 where they sleep. And their rest shall be very calm 
 and beautiful, as the multitude of years roll on. 
 And morn shall rise, and eve shall set, and the dews 
 of heaven shall descend upon them, and the winds 
 shall weave their melodies through the trees above, 
 that shade the silent walks of that serene abode, and 
 ages after ages gliding on, shall wake them not. 
 And as the living city shall increase its wealth, so 
 shall this neighboring necropolis extend its bound- 
 aries, and increase its population and receive into 
 
16 
 
 its bosom the hoarded wealth of many a mother's 
 fondest love — of many a father's proudest hope. The 
 young, the beautiful are there, and slumber side by 
 side with the bowed in frame and the stricken in 
 years. 
 
 The maiden snatched away from joys, parental 
 love, and admiring friends, has gone thither in the 
 hearse with nodding plumes — with her glorious 
 locks shading her palUd brow, damp and cold in 
 death, her white hands folded on her stainless breast 
 — and her heaven-hued eyes, that kindled with the 
 dreams of love or glowed with faith's etherial fires 
 — asleep forever 'neath their blue- veined lids, and 
 mouldering down to darkness and to dust. The 
 fair-haired boy, that may have loved her well, is 
 also there. There the son beside the father sleeps, 
 and by the mother's side her infant child that 
 scarcely saw the dawn of life. And there in that 
 beautiful and secluded spot — surviving love to whom 
 the dead are ever doubly dear, has placed the " sto- 
 ried urn and animated bust," the lettered slab and 
 graven column, to mark the last repose of friends 
 whom mortal eyes shall see no more, but whose im- 
 mortal spirits, long since have found " that house 
 not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 
 
 And thither, like some loved ones lingering still be- 
 hind, whom I saw the day I was there, they go from 
 time to time, to spend a quiet hour in the hallowed 
 society of the dead — to strew roses and amaranths 
 and blue-eyed violets over the consecrated spots 
 where their loved ones sleep, thus keeping fresh and 
 fragrant in their hearts the memories of those so 
 loved, so valued here — so mourned and missed 
 from earth, to bloom forever fair and young in 
 heaven: 
 
17 
 
 " If yon bright stars wliich gem the night, 
 Be each a blissful dwelling sphere, 
 
 Where kindred spirits reunite 
 
 Whom death has torn asunder here, 
 
 Oh then 'twere sweet at once to die 
 And leave this blighted orb afar — 
 
 Mix soul with soul to cleave the sky 
 And soar away from star to star ! 
 
 But oh, how dark, how drear, how lone. 
 Would be the brightest world of bliss, 
 
 If wandering through each radiant one 
 We failed to find the loved of this ! 
 
 If here alone those ties should twine, 
 
 Which death's cold hand alone can sever. 
 
 Ah, then those stars in mockery shine — 
 More hateful as they shine forever ! 
 
 It cannot be — each hope, each fear. 
 That lights the eye or clouds the brow, 
 
 Proclaims there is a happier sphere 
 
 Than this bleak world which holds us now. 
 
 There is a voice which sorrow hears 
 
 When heaviest weighs life's galling chain- 
 
 An angel whispers : '-Dry thy tears ! 
 The pure in heart shall meet again ! " 
 
 LINES, 
 
 Co)T posed on a visit to the neighborhood of Mount Vernon, near 
 Newport, Kentucky, and respectfully dedicated to General G. W. 
 Runyan and his accomplished lady, by the Author. 
 
 Adown the sky, along the cloud-fringed West, 
 Slow sinks apace the golden sun to rest ! 
 And evening's quiet hour is now at hand 
 With peace and beauty breathing o'er the land ! 
 
18 
 
 I look abroad and view the happy scene, 
 Where many a towering hill of emerald green, 
 In swelling grandeur greets my pensive gaze 
 And wakes my slumbering muse to sing its praise,^ 
 While lovely valleys in their sweet repose 
 Enchanting prospects to the viev/ disclose. 
 Southward a long, blue line of hills arise 
 Whose stately tops approach the bending skies 
 And cast their lengthening shadows far abroad 
 Athwart the vales by grazing cattle trod, - 
 Northward the distant woods with dark'ning shade 
 Reflect their image on the dusky glade. 
 While western wines come murm'ring soft and low, 
 And o'er my brow with dewy freshness blow ! 
 Delightful scenes of innocence and peace ! 
 Here might the sorrows of my spirit cease, 
 And here my heart from memory's torturing grief 
 Amid these quiet valleys find relief ! 
 A fate so happy, and so bleat, howe'er. 
 Is not reserved for me — from year to year, 
 A hapless, lonely wanderer I shall be 
 Upon the land and o 'er the stormy sea ! 
 Without a home, or house, or friend, or mate, 
 I roam the dreary world all desolate ! 
 But could I claim some cherished fixed abo'de, 
 Where from the lonesome, long and thorny road 
 I've trod on earth — my aching steps might turn 
 The soothing joys of blest content to learn ; 
 'Tis in these tranquil bowers I feign would rest 
 And entertain at last tbe heaven-born guest ! 
 Where o'er the fields the flocks all peaceful stray 
 And birds of sweetest music charm the day ! 
 Where gen'rous Runyan with his lovely wife, 
 Has sought a shelter from the storms of life, 
 And with his happy family around, 
 Afsafe retreat from busy care has found. 
 Where gliding down the placid stream of time 
 Their hearts and hopes repose in God sublime ! 
 Campbell County, Ky., June 30, 1866. 
 
19 
 
 THE BLUE-EYED MAID OP CEDAR 
 RUN. 
 
 When rambliDg bards to fame unknown, 
 
 But courting still Apollo's praises, 
 In forest depths pursue alone 
 
 The chase for daffodils and daisies, 
 And seek out Flora's eldest born, 
 
 To lend their lays the look of morn, 
 And weave for beauty's machless worth 
 
 A diadem too bright for earth, 
 They find full oft along their way 
 
 A sweeter, lovelier queen than tJiei/y 
 With dimpled smiles, and sunay hair, 
 
 And eyes that ehame the violet's hue. 
 That decks the heavens whereat wc stare, 
 
 When nights are clear and stars are new. 
 With shapes that mould our fondest dreams. 
 
 We only deemed a wild ideal, 
 To forms where living beauty beams, 
 
 And Juno's self is more than real. 
 And thus it happened once with me. 
 
 When I was wandering out, you gee. 
 To dwell awhile with woods and flowers. 
 
 And weave a wreath from Flora's bowers 
 About my songs ; to have when born 
 
 The freshness and the charm of morn. 
 Along a streamlet's curving slope, 
 
 That smiled like May and laughed like Hope, 
 Whose waters kissed the verdant banks, 
 
 And flowers sprang up and nodded thanks ; 
 And far away into the woods 
 
 The blue grass hills were winding back, 
 That heard not in those solitudes 
 
 The stream that ran its pebbly traok, 
 With bubbling hum and murmuring glee 
 
 And lowly lisping lullaby. 
 With smiles anon, and then a laugh 
 
 At birds that came its waves to quaff — 
 A cottage stands upon a hill, 
 
20 
 
 Which does this streamlet look upon, 
 Where first I saw sweet Mary Mill, 
 The lovely Maid of Cedar Run. 
 
 It may be long ere I return 
 
 To woo that gentle girl again, 
 And longer yet for me to burn 
 
 With passion unreturned and vain ; 
 But still, when rosy hours arrive. 
 
 That flush th' empurpling set of sun, 
 Fors::et — I cannot, though I strive — 
 
 The lovely Maid of Cedar Hun. 
 
 Her blue eyes tremble o'er my heart, 
 
 Her fair locks float before my gaze, 
 My being is of hers a part, 
 
 Iler life entwined with all my days. 
 The fairy form cf Mary Mill, 
 
 Of earthly flowers the loveliest one. 
 In dreams is stealing o'er me still — 
 
 The blue-eyed Maid of Cedar Run. 
 
 THE WEATHER. 
 
 Wc have had most unaccountable weather, and a very 
 long spell of it at that. It is near the middle of June, and 
 yet, we have hardly had a day that would start the pres- 
 piration on the face of a healthy man — to say nothing of 
 him of torpid liver and dyspeptic stomach, to whom the 
 act of sweating would be as strange a phenomenon as one 
 of Pargny's ice creams would bo to a native of the torrid 
 zone. Summer clothing has gone a begging till now 
 spring has passed away, and till very lately overcoats 
 were needed and worn to break the winterish winds ; and 
 blazing fires of the " bituminous " so far from being un- 
 comfortable, were actually indispensable to warming that 
 genial current of the soul which the poet Grray asserts in 
 his elegy, was frozen long ago iu the bosoms of certain 
 little bipeds, male and female, who dwelt in the chilling 
 and humid climate of Albion. 
 
21 
 
 There is certainly some disturbance in the elements ; 
 perhaps a comet is coming this way — or something unu- 
 sual has happened in the asrial regions to delay so long 
 the advent of warm weather. It has retarded the crops 
 in the country, and materially interfered with the clothing 
 business, to say nothing of the sudden check which it gave 
 to the trade in ice cream and soda water. 
 
 Yet the heated term in the ordinary course of nature, 
 will be upon us and ail around us soon, when cooling 
 shades will be sought with as much avidity as we sought 
 the sunny side of the street or the still more desirable fire- 
 sidcB. But cold weather has continued with us so long 
 that summer will most likely be limited to the three 
 months allotted in the calender — at the end of which 
 months frosty nights and tranquil days, the harbingers of 
 autumn, will again appear in the milder sun of breezy "be- 
 witching September," when commerce will again call its 
 votaries to our thronged streets, and Louisville will be 
 wide-awake and herself again. 
 
 We had thought of mentioning in a note that the 
 weather eecms to have been particularly partial, however, 
 to our senior ; inasmuch as he has lately had a new suit of 
 butternut jeans presented to him by the Hope Woolen 
 Mills, and the cold weather suited his suit. 
 
 CANEWOOD. 
 
 The folloAving liaes aro inscribed with sentiments of the highest re- 
 gard to Dr. Charles Morrow Way and his accomplished lady — at 
 present of Louisville — but at the time they were written, occupants 
 and residents of Canewood, at which delightful abode the author 
 was the recipient of much kindness and many hospitalities, whoso 
 memory with him neither time nor distance can efface. 
 
 Here, nestling in a grove of shadowing trees, 
 The blest abode of elegance and ease, 
 Delicious spot, whose quiet charms the mind 
 From harrowing scenes of sorrow left behind 
 Dear Canewood's vales and sloping hills of blue — 
 Invite my heart to contemplate the view ! 
 
22 
 
 Here from the city's crowded mart retired. 
 With love of nature's gentler walks inspired, 
 The spirit worn with scenes of worldly strife, 
 May gain fresh strength and drink new streams of life, 
 And smarting 'neath affliction's chastening rod. 
 Away from man, be nearer still to God ; 
 May learn within when tempests darkly lower 
 Religion's sweet and soul-sustaining power, 
 And cheered by all the varied prospect round, 
 Feel purest joys within the soul abound. 
 Enchanting bowers, my bosom well may own 
 Your genial power to soothe the spirit lone. 
 Whom stern adversity hath sorely tried 
 And Fortune's hand her favoring gifts denied! 
 I see around me hill and silver stream 
 Reflecting back the sunlight's golden gleam 
 And hear the singing birds from glen and grove 
 Pour fourth their swelling notes of joy and love. 
 While herds of lowing kine afar are seen 
 To roam the hills or graze the meadows green ! 
 O'er Canewood's blest and love-pervaded bowers 
 May tima's fleet pinion shed its rosiest hours ; — 
 May life be bright and faith be ever clear 
 To those pure hearts whose earthly home is here ; 
 Around them still may peace and plenty reign 
 And love and Friendship wreath their golden chain, 
 And as they near the port where troubles cease 
 Within the harbor of eternal peace. 
 May Hope's bright hand and Faith's pure eye sincere 
 Still woo them onward to that happier sphere. 
 Where winter never comes with chilling gloom. 
 But fadeless flowers in endless beauty bloom 
 In climes unknown to tomb or tear or pall 
 And where God's ceaseless love encircles all ! 
 Canewood, Jefferson County, Ky., Dec. 11th, 1866. 
 
23 
 
 SAM. PETER'S SPRING. 
 
 WASHINGTON COUNTY, NEAR MAXVILLE, KENTUCKY. 
 
 I was at the above gentleman's house in 1845, in June or July, I forget 
 which, on ray way to Ohio and other places; while there, he request- 
 ed me one day to go down and look at a fine spring not very far 
 from the house, improved by himself by a stone wall and other 
 fixtures. On our return he remarked, with a smile, that he thought 
 the Bubject poetical ; whether I thought the same or not, will be 
 discovered on the perusal of the subjoined, which I produced up- 
 on the spot. 
 
 I could have wished Sam. Peter's Spring 
 
 Might its own song and glory sing, 
 
 But then I sighed to start away 
 
 From his dear home and never say 
 
 One word to leave behind me when 
 
 My steps should wander far 'mid men, 
 
 Chance fetching me not back again, 
 
 For though among Kentuckians, I 
 
 Have often drawn the long-drawn sigh, 
 
 Which their unkindness made for me, 
 
 And caused my heart a pall to be 
 
 Of gloom and hourly misery ; 
 
 Yet still I love thee, blood-bought land, 
 
 Of beauty's throng and freedom's band. 
 
 And think how long, sometimes, I say, 
 
 Before I rest me in thy clay, 
 
 And lay this time-worn body down 
 
 To slumber where thy dark woods frown. 
 
 But now I'm off my story quite, 
 
 And hence I must return polite, 
 
 And beg tho reader's smiles and pardon 
 
 For tho Kentuckian's bearing so hard on. 
 
 And pass from them, who often bring us 
 
 Dinners at meetings to the Spring *' hus," 
 
 Where Mrs. Peters always places 
 
 Her butter and milk in plates and vases. 
 
24 
 
 How sweet to sit beneath the shade, 
 At evening when the cloth is laid, 
 And grace, so gracious, has been said, 
 And from your glass the milk to sip. 
 Which leaves its coolness on your lip, 
 And pours a part, as it well mote. 
 Of the bubbling spring adown your throat ; 
 Not tfcat I would attempt to hint 
 That Mrs. Peter mixed water in 't. 
 But poets' fancies like founts obey. 
 In their wandering flight's unbridled play. 
 The law of their nature, they rise 
 So high — no higher, one but tries 
 His too short wings, and then he dies. 
 I hope, dear Sir, you'll understand. 
 What I meant when I said, 
 (As I did— "By Ned!") 
 That the milk poured joy on the inner man. 
 By " cooling his copper " as down it ran, 
 For I have the right quite as much 
 This beautifully bright to touch. 
 And say the milk with spriug-water cool 
 " Wet one's whistle" while swallowing it. 
 As you have to call that froth ^'lambs wool" 
 Which you make by byiling cider aud apples, 
 And draw out the latter with fingers or grapples ; 
 You 'd make it lamb's wool, if you could, by your wit, 
 But every body knows it is not wool, a bit ! 
 
 Farewell to Sam. Peter, may his Spring long run 
 
 On its quiet track neath shadow and sun. 
 
 May the wall, like a key aroh, encircling the spot. 
 
 Not tumble to peices. till water is not, 
 
 May his children and wife partake of its wave, 
 
 Till their spirits fiud h,8aven, their bodies the grave. 
 
 May the pilgrim like me, from the dust of his travel, 
 
 The web of its coldness completely unravel. 
 
 And long as these fountains of silver endure. 
 
 May the soul of their owner bs noble and pure. 
 
25 
 SOUTHERN PACIFIC RAILROAD. 
 
 Our readers will remember Mr. Benton's great speech 
 delivered in Congress a few years ago, on tlie subject of 
 the Pacific Railroad — then beginning to be discussed 
 through the country — the project bavins; first originated, 
 if we rightly remember, with Mr. Asa Whitney, a gentle- 
 man of wealth residing in the city of New York, who pro- 
 posed, if we are not mistaken, to undertake the construc- 
 tion of the entire stupendous route, provided he could get 
 grants of land from Congress, along each side of the road, 
 sufficient to warrant its completion and justify its incep- 
 tion. But Congress, with the customary wisdom and 
 foresight for which that astute body is so remarkable, 
 chose to receive the project coldly, and finally to ignore 
 the whole thing, and preferred to leave a measure so 
 fraught with the ultimate true glory and prosperity of the 
 country, to die of neglect, and turned with never flagging 
 zeal again to the agitation of the perpetual negro, that 
 finally brought on a war whose like the world never 
 saw before, and may it never see again-— whose results 
 we are now feeling in part, and which our children's 
 children are yet to feel to the tenth generation — 
 ending in the freedom of an unfortunate race who are 
 doomed to perish because they are free — and with deep 
 principles of sectional hatred implanted in the two supe- 
 rior races — which threaten yet to destroy that boasted 
 liberty in whose name the conflict was waged, and 
 cost the country enough money to have built a hundred 
 Pacific Ptailroads, and to have erected school-houses and 
 churches on every square mile of settled land on the con- 
 tinent of North America. If the Pacific Bailroad, at the 
 time Mr. "Whitney memorialized Congress on the subject, 
 had been put upon its course of completion, by that body's 
 passing a bill to that efi'ect, and thus vitalizing and reali- 
 zing a project they then deemed visionary, instead of 
 wrangling over the incessant and inevitable negro, it might 
 have diverted away from this unhappy country the storm 
 of war then gathering in the distance, with its faint mut- 
 terings heard from afar, but heeded not by the unwary. 
 
26 
 
 Yes, if the great national project of a Pacific Railroad had 
 at that time been undertaken under a law of Congress, and 
 pushed through with the labor of as many men as were 
 killed and wounded at the battle of Shiloh, the rich com- 
 merce of a world would have been thus diverted to our 
 country — and secured to us forever — making us tbe first 
 country on the globe in wealth, and constituting us one 
 people for all time to come. It would have drawn the 
 angry lightning from the threatening cloud of war, and 
 conducted it harmless to the earth. It would have built 
 us up to a mighty position in commerce; it would have 
 put into our hands the sceptre which rules the world. It 
 would have cemented the bonds of union among our peo- 
 ple, for indissoluble bonds of iron would then have bound 
 them. It would have made all Europe tributary to us, 
 and all the gorgeous wealth of the Indies would in time 
 have been our own; for its trade, which has hitherto en- 
 riched every nation that controlled it, would then inevita- 
 bly have fallen like ripe fruit into our laps. 
 
 But even yet, if the radical Congress, in the ascendant 
 at Washington, instead of throwing every obstacle in the 
 way of the President towards reconstruction and harmony 
 among our nation, just emerging from a sectional war, and 
 employing their time in devising schemes to elevate the 
 negro and themselves into office, would cease to negroize — 
 even for a baeathing spell — and lend their aid by proper 
 legislation, to complete the great Southern Pacific Rail- 
 road through Texas, which would stretch its mighty 
 arm across our continent with its fingers grasping 
 and holding every inlet and outlet of trade — travers- 
 ing the greatest cotton belt on the habitable globe — 
 and passing almost every foot of its way over a rich and 
 bountiful soil in a mild climate, where snows form no ob- 
 struction to travel, free from expensive streams to bridge 
 — no deep cuts or heavy fills to make — and not a single 
 tunnel on the route. We say, if they would do this now, 
 while it is called to-day, and abandon their mad legisla- 
 tion about the negro, they might yet bind the South to 
 them with hooks of steel and bands of iron, and cement 
 our hitherto glorious union together forever. Let it be 
 
, 27 
 
 built — let it go forward ! And let it become tlie heart of 
 our nation's prosperity, and the channel of commerce for 
 all the world, when every civilized nation under the sun 
 shall then pour a portion of its wealth into the streams of 
 our commerce to enrich a happy aud re united people, and 
 render them the sovereigns of tho civilized world — ruling 
 by the gentle arts of peace— and by the extension of their 
 commerce implanting their free institutions in e^ery land 
 where tho sun shines or the clouds are poured out in rains. 
 
 To continue the subject of the Southern Pacifia Rail- 
 road, we would remark that Mr. Burkhar^, agent, on Main 
 street, has shown us a map of the route which the Com- 
 pany are building from Shrevesporfc, La., to El Paso, Tex- 
 as, and which they are now pushing forward to its termi- 
 nus with great zeal and industry, having a large number 
 of hands constantly at work, and having already finished 
 it as far as Marshall, Texas ; and the cars will be by the 
 first of August next, running regularly betvveen the two 
 points, carrying an immense amount of freight and large 
 numbers of passengers. It is estimated that 120,000 bales of 
 cotton will be shipped this year by the company on their 
 road from Marshall to Shrevesport — a distance of forty- 
 two miles — yielding for this item alone, a tariff" of $240,- 
 000. This fact alone gives evidence of the present ability 
 of the road to pay all expenses and yield a handsome in- 
 come, besides giving an earnest of future prosperity. 
 These facts alTord encouraging reasons for investing in 
 the stock of the company, which there is no doubt will pay 
 its holders hand.someIy in the course of time, if it does not 
 at once yield a profit. The St:atc of Texas has, with great 
 generosity, to encourage the enterprise, donated to the 
 Company sixteen sections of land, or 10,250 acres for every 
 mile of road constructed, beside loaning $6,000 for every 
 mile, at six per cent, interest per annum, and without ex- 
 acting of the Company any extra tax or bonus, as the 
 State of Illinois did of the Illinois Central Road, who pay 
 to the State seven per cant, of their gross earning, and 
 which realizes to the State sufficient revenue to pay the 
 expense of its government. 
 
 What will be the effect of this Southern Pacific Rail- 
 
28 
 
 road to the State of Texas ? Why to bring to its arms 
 the hardy pioneer, the mechanic, the farmer, and thri- 
 ving Grerman emigrants, and build up the State with a 
 teeming population of thriving, hearty and industrious 
 citizens, who will in a few years more than doubly pay for 
 all its generous gifts to this great enterprise. 
 
 There is one other fact which should not be overlook- 
 ed, and it is, that the road does not come in competition 
 with any navigable stream, being above the navigable 
 point of all in the State. 
 
 A LIBERAL TRANSLATION. 
 
 Coilum noil animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt. 
 
 [Horace. 
 He'll cross in vain the trackless main, 
 
 Who bears a troubled mind, 
 The bitter grief that scorns relief 
 
 He cannot leave behind ! 
 In vain on other skies he'll look — 
 
 On other faces gaze — 
 In vain in search of Lethe's brook 
 
 His wand'ring footstep strays ! 
 
 For still with hira his troubles swim 
 
 The dark and stormy deep, 
 Cross ocean's space, with him keep pace, 
 
 And in his hammock sleep ! 
 Though blue the skies of other climes 
 
 And fair their lands to see, 
 The pleasure which the scene sublimes, 
 
 For him can never be ! 
 
 For to each goal his care-sick soul 
 
 He carries with himself, 
 And finds the bliss he there will miss, 
 
 Alas, no sea-born elf! 
 For happiness is of the mind, 
 
 And born of blest content, 
 Which not in change of scene we find. 
 
 But days in virtue spent 1 
 Louisville, Ky., July 11, 1866. 
 
29 
 
 DANVILLE DEAF AND DUMB 
 ASYLUM. 
 
 AVhen last at Danville, I had the pleasure of calling 
 several times upon Messrs. Jocoba and Cheek, at the 
 Deaf and Dumb Asylum, and of witnessing the mode of 
 instruction to the pupils of the Institution. 
 
 In the first place I ought to speak, perhaps, of the 
 magnificent building which the munificence of the State 
 has erected for the benefit of her mute population scatter- 
 ed here and there throughout the broad domain — and, in- 
 deed, they form quite an item in the census of our people, 
 and need quite as much as any other classs of unfortu- 
 nates, the fostering hand of public charity, Tney are 
 born, most of them, with all the intelligence of children 
 ordinarily, but through the inscrutable designs of Provi- 
 dence, are deprived of communication with their fellow- 
 mortals,Jthrough the accustomed medium of speech. But 
 thank God, they are not, in this age, at least, " out of hu- 
 manity's reach," although they 
 
 " Never hear the sweet music of speech, 
 Nor start at the sound of their own," — 
 
 and are not by any means permitted to "finish their journey 
 alone ; " for they are taught now, throughout our com- 
 mon country in Institutions like the aboue, under the 
 kind guidance of good and patient teachers, lessons in 
 learning and morality, which accompany them thence 
 through life wherever they may be. 
 
 The building is a tall, msssive, commodious, and well- 
 proportioned structure — furnished with ample sleeping 
 and dining apartments, and admirably adapted to the pur- 
 pose for which the liberality of the State designed it. It 
 is an ornament to the town of Danville, and a proud mon- 
 ument of the kindness and thoughtful liberality of the 
 citizens of our Commonwealth. I do not remember the 
 year of its foundation — I mean the Institution itself, but 
 I have been and am witness as thousands of others have 
 been and are, to the blessings which it has conferred on 
 many a poor unfortunate child, who otherwise would have 
 remained ignorant of religion and God, aud been totally un- 
 
30 
 
 fit for the avocations of life. Bat the praises of tbe two 
 gentlemen we have just named, (Messrs. Jacobs and Cheek,) 
 will be chiefly in the mouths of those who cannot spealc ! 
 They have had more to do, I suppose, with dispensing the 
 blessings of the Institution to those deprived of spoken 
 language, than any other two men ever associated 
 with the Danville Deaf and Dumb Asylum. They have 
 lent themselves for long years of the past to the building 
 up of the Institution, with a spirit of devotion and self- 
 sacrifice that will commend itself to posterity, if it should 
 be overlooked by the restless spirits of the present — and 
 their kindness, their patience and their love will be faith- 
 fully transmitted and recorded a hundred years hence, on 
 hearts which even still, shall have no utterance for their 
 hopes, their interestsand their loves, save by that which has 
 been given them by persons who are still like the patient, 
 meek, and humble, but noble-hearted and self-sacrificing 
 men to whom I have alluded, dispensing to the dumb, 
 words and signs of joy, and making young and happy 
 hearts, even from out such affliction's deep vale — speak 
 words of gladness mid a generation who shall see but shall 
 not listen to the signs and wonders of their joy. 
 
 The number of pupils there, when I saw them last, was 
 between seventy and eighty. It was interesting and de- 
 lightful to us, to wituesa how by signs and gestures, their 
 patient teachers 
 
 " TauglU. the young idea how to shoot, 
 And poured the freeh mstructiou o'er the mind," 
 
 The impressions which it made then upon my mind can 
 never be erased, and I give them to the public now, still 
 entertwined and strongly bieuded with the warmest recolec- 
 tions of my heart. 
 
 I would state for the benefit of those unfortunates, and 
 to direct to the fact the attention of the proper officers, that 
 by a recent act of our State Legislature, all Assessors aie 
 required to retnrn the names of all the deaf mutes in their 
 respective counties, loith their nearest po&t offices, written im- 
 mediately after their names. 
 
 In a conversation with Mr. J. while at Frankfort last 
 winter, we remember that this was particulary urged, in or- 
 
31 
 
 derthat all the deaf and dumb children in the State might 
 share the advantages of the Institution. I therefore urge 
 it upon the officers alluded to, to attend to their duty in 
 this matter. 
 
 Ifc may be added in conclusion, that although the law 
 permits pupils to be received at the Institution from oth- 
 er State?, provided their parents or guardians pay their 
 board and tuition, there were only three thus received up 
 to the time of Mr. Jacobs, making his report to the Legis- 
 lature. 
 
 LITTLE NETTIE'S GONE. 
 
 Written for Mrs. E. B. Higgins, formerly of Saint Louis, Missouri. 
 
 A few short years with us below, 
 
 She bloomed a lovely flower, 
 But now the gem we worshipped so, 
 
 Bedecks a heavenly bower ; 
 And bright is that immortal clime 
 
 Where now her life glides on. 
 The cloudless clime untouched by time. 
 
 Where little Nettie's gone ! 
 
 Sweet Nettie was our joy and pride, 
 
 But earthly joy departs. 
 And when our darling Nettie died, 
 
 It almost broke our hearts. 
 'Twas very hard to give her up, 
 
 We wept in grief alone, 
 And still we drink of sorrow's cup, 
 
 Since little Nettie's gone. 
 
 We cannot call the loved one back, 
 
 Nor would we if we could, 
 To tread earth's dark and thorny track 
 
 In lonely solitude ! 
 Ere many years of suffering, 
 
 We hope to follow on, 
 Where life is one immortal spring, 
 
 Where darling Nettie's gone ! 
 Louisville, Ky., July 30, 1866. 
 
^ 32 
 
 THE LEAVITT SEWING MACHINE. 
 
 God bless the man who invented Sewing Ma- 
 chines ! 
 
 The voices of milUons of poor women redeemed 
 from the stitch and needle of old, shall in future 
 ages, hymn his praise, and every button on posteri- 
 ty's coat, tell the story of his greatness. They are 
 now driving those Machines in New York. City by 
 steam — so Mr. E. informed us. Think of a hundred 
 Sewing Machines stiching away under a pressure of 
 steam of forty pounds to the square inch, and think 
 of the well-dressed men l^^ing around them in 
 chaos, after such a day's work, to be gotten up in 
 future "regardless of expense," and without un- 
 necessary delay by the IJ. S. Mails ! Behold in 
 ideal but magnificent panorama, the long train of 
 tastily clad individuals passing in dignified proces- 
 sion before the mind's eye — and ponder on the pre- 
 ternatural powers of the imponderable steam. 
 
 These reflections v/ere caused by my[^stepping in- 
 to the salesroom of Mr. C. L. Radway, Fourth 
 street, Louisville, where I had the pleasure of look- 
 ing at the Machine in question and seeing it at 
 work. It is a very superior Machine, and possesses 
 some desirable qualities wliicli others have not. It 
 appeared to be worked with great ease and rapidity, 
 and under skillful management, we suppose it 
 could do a vast amount of sewing in the course of a 
 day. Eight pairs of common pantaloons could, we 
 suppose, be thus made upon it in twelve hours. 
 The number of stitches which that would require, 
 if done by hand, — the reader can imagine. 
 
 A marked feature in this Machine is its simplici- 
 t}^ In this respect it is without an equal ; and 
 this quality should commend it at once to the pub- 
 lic. 
 
33 
 
 I would add, in conclusion, that the patent 
 which Mr. E. is introducing to the public, has a 
 great advantage — one never to be too highly val- 
 ued by the ladies — who have been perplexed, both- 
 ered and fretted so often by the accidents occuring 
 in other machines : The thread of this one never 
 breaks ; owing to the smoothness loith ivhich its machin- 
 ery runs. 
 
 THE PRETTY BRUJ^ETTE. 
 
 In the days of my youth, when friendship was truth, 
 
 And the world looked brighter than now, 
 I met a dear maid where a wild river strayed, 
 And the sweet dimples played, 'neath her ringlet's dark 
 shade. 
 
 With the sunshine that fell from her brow ! 
 Oh happy was she as a maiden could be, 
 
 Unknown to a pang of regret, 
 And dancing and gay as the wild river's spray, 
 
 Was the life of the pretty brunette ! 
 
 But the changes of years with their smiles and their tears, 
 
 Their sunshine and gloom have been mine — 
 Since by that wild stream on my life's early dream 
 
 She glowed like a vision divine — 
 Since I looked on her face 'twas a heaven to trace. 
 
 As by the wild river we met , 
 And hard by its brink where the violets drink 
 
 Fell in love with my pretty brunette ! 
 
 She passed from my view as a cloud from the blue 
 
 Of the sky hastes swiftly away, 
 When the fleet winds roam through heaven's high dome 
 
 And clear the dark shadows from day ! 
 I have seen her no more since that hour of yore 
 
 By the river's wild border we met, 
 But deep in my heart, never thence to depart, 
 
 Ever dwelleth my pretty brunette ! 
 
34 
 
 A VISIT TO INDIAN CAVE. 
 
 I took an excursion down the Nashville railroad a 
 few days ago as far as Cave City, and then left the railroad 
 and j jurneyed partly on foot and partly per wagon, to the 
 residence of my old friend and "college chum," Dr. Sam 
 uel Young, of "Indian Cave," Barren county, Ky., dis- 
 tant about four miles from Cave City. I was enter- 
 tained with distinguished hospitality during my stay by 
 my friend and his excellent and accomplished lady, and 
 spent some three or four days with them, which I shall 
 reckon hereafter as the happiest of ray life. In the 
 cooling shades and sequestered bowers around their hap- 
 py home, I sat and talked with the friend of my boyish 
 days of old St. Mary's, and its scenes of fun and frolic, 
 its checkered hours of youthful joy and disappointment — 
 of young ambition's flights and fancy's fairy dreams — now 
 fled forever — and sighed to recall with the author of the 
 " Song of Tara:" 
 
 " The smiles, the tears 
 
 Of boyhood's years. 
 
 The words of Jove then spoken , 
 
 The eyes that shone, 
 
 Now dimmed and gone, 
 
 The tender hearts now broken." 
 
 But we must confess that we found while there some 
 solid consolations for the regrets and losses of the past, if 
 ice creams, mint juleps, smothered chicken and excellent 
 "Havannas" could have anything to do with alleviating 
 the sorrows of this present life. And we acknowledge 
 that with us they do, undoubtedly. Others talk of drinh- 
 ing to drown sorrow, but for ourselves, we have found but 
 few griefs that were capable of withstanding a course of 
 thorough and persistent good eating. Perhaps this may 
 be accounted for on that principle of natural philosophy 
 which forbids that any two given things should occupy 
 one and the same space at the same time. Consequently 
 he that is filled with a good dinner cannot at the same 
 Hme be fall of sorrows. For this suggestion, as well as a 
 thousand others I have given the world, I charga 
 nothing. 
 
35 
 
 In company with my friend Dr. Y., I spent some two or 
 three hours in examining " Indian Cave," which is a 
 great curiosity in its way, and well worth the trouble and 
 time of going to see. It is not on so grand a scale as its 
 close neighbor, the'' MAoinioth Cave," but it i^ fall of 
 gems of beauty. There is a descent from the entrance to 
 the floor of some sixty or seventy feet — which is rather 
 steep — but after that you coine to a smooth, level and 
 beautiful road. 
 
 The first object of interest which we encountered was 
 the " Pool of Bethsaida," whose waters are clear and 
 sparkling, and delightfully refreshing and exhilarating to 
 the imbiber. It stands alone in the center of the first 
 room, a solitary gem of lonely and silent beauty, welling 
 up in fresh and unseen loveliness since ages gone some 
 mighty convulsion down below came with roaring waters 
 long pent up forcing their headlong way through earth 
 and rock and hollowing out this mysterious cavern ; whose 
 voiceless chambers undisturbed by human speech for 
 thousands of years have been the abode only of the sight- 
 less bat and cricket, and whose sun-forsaken streams have 
 been navigated only by eyeless fish that have lived and 
 died generation after generation from age to age, amid their 
 waves that silently wandered on through the rayless and 
 awful solitude. 
 
 In one room we have the " Prison of Chillon," out of 
 which the imagination can readily construct the abode of 
 that doomed martyr to liberty, whose patient and heroic 
 endurance have been immortalized by the pen of Byron. 
 
 In another we have the statute of the " Madonna" — pro- 
 duced by stalactite and sitalagmite formations, which fills 
 the mind of the beholder with sublime and reverential re- 
 flections. 
 
 "Allene's Dome," so called from a beautiful youug lady 
 who first discovered it, rises in magnificent proportions 
 and fills the mind with awe at the contemplation of the 
 huge and massive structure reared by the hand of nature 
 in the sunless regions ot' the hidden world. Be- 
 sides all these we saw " Grant's Column," and " Lee's Col- 
 umn," the " Lone Secessionist" and the " Parted Friends," 
 so named by myself at the request of Dr. Y. 
 
36 
 
 This last consists of a stalagmite and staclactite shaft, 
 which were formerly united but have been recently broken 
 off — which sujjgested to my mind Colercdge's picture of 
 *' Friendship Disjoined." 
 
 "Alas, they had been friends in youth. 
 
 But whispering tongues can poison truth, 
 
 And life is thorny, and youth is vain, 
 
 And constancy lives in realms above, 
 
 And to be wroth with one we love, 
 
 Doth work like madness in the brain. 
 
 They stood aloof, the scars remaining 
 
 Like clill^s which had been rent asunder, &c., &c." 
 
 The "Star Chamber " and the "Bulletin Room" also do- 
 serve special and extended notice, but I am sorry that 
 space and time alike forbid me enlarging further on so 
 agreeable a topic. 
 
 " Indian Cave" is about midway on the stage road from 
 Cave City to the " Mammoth," and we advise all travelers 
 and curiosity seekers on their way to the latter to give 
 Dr. Young a call, and examine for themselves the cavern 
 I have attempted to describe. 
 
 They will find the Doctor a very intelligent and pleas- 
 ant gentleman — his wife a charming hostess, and the faro 
 offered, both in the way of eatables and drinkables, unsur- 
 passed in any portion of our country. 
 
 TO-DAY. 
 
 How brightly smiles this April day. 
 
 How sweet its heavenly air, 
 'T is like the moments passed away 
 
 In childhood ffeet and fair. 
 The soft, serene, ambrosial sky 
 
 Is full of love and joy. 
 White clouds, like dreams, are floating by, 
 
 And yonder runs a boy 
 Who drives a hoop, intensely bent 
 
 To find how far he can 
 Just drive that hoop with true intent 
 
 From where he first began. 
 I think of him with saddened thought, 
 
37 
 
 And watch the sport proceed, 
 And feel my breast too sorely wrought 
 
 Witt certain wounds that bleed. 
 In boyhood's careless happy years 
 
 I too pursued such fun, 
 And hence I now am touched to tears 
 
 That sport to look upon. 
 Hard driven like that hoop I've been 
 
 Along life's turnpike way. 
 And from the battle and the din 
 
 Have earned no actual pay ; 
 I pause and sigh to contemplate 
 
 What visions once I had 
 Of many a fair and rich estate. 
 
 When I was but a lad. 
 Life's gorgeous colors mixed and blent 
 
 Still charm the rambling poet, 
 ButifTvegot the first red cent 
 
 I really do not know it. 
 
 RELIGIO-POLITICAL JOURNALISM. 
 
 Among our exchanges we receive several from the 
 North devoted (or professing to be devoted) to religious 
 instructions and moral teachings ; but really it seems 
 upon a careful perusal that they are more concerned about 
 the things of Caesar than those of God, and that they make 
 politics, rather than religion, their chief study. One or 
 two religious papers from the south seem becoming equally 
 absorbed in political discussions. 
 
 We believe it to have been the design of the statesmen 
 who framed our Constitution to have effected a complete 
 divorce of church and State — seeing that their union had 
 been the bane of all previous governments. Ministers of 
 the gospel of Christianity are out of there sphere whenever 
 they meddle with politics, and the baleful effects of such 
 meddling are always shown in the sequel as exhibited so 
 painfully and terribly in the late fraticidal war in our 
 oountry — the " bloodiest picture in the book of time." 
 Our country was at peace — the freest, the most equitable 
 
38 
 
 and jnst government the world had ever known. But the 
 clergy North and South — not willing to let well enough 
 alone — took to harranging the people of the two different 
 sections from their pulpits, and appealing to them through 
 their papers, until a stoira of hate and madly contending 
 passions raged from one end of the country to the other. 
 The dreadful results which followed are too well known 
 ever to be forgotten by our people. And now, we think, 
 that as the strife is over ^nd the issues are decided forever, 
 the talents of those who preach the doctrines of the meek 
 sufferer of Nazareth, should rather be engaged in the 
 heavenly work of healing the wounds which the war has 
 left, than in tearing them afresh and fermenting unhappy 
 quarrels between different sections again to ultimate in- 
 evitably in blood. The angels whose celestial voices her- 
 alded the advent of the saviour to earth, did so in the 
 cheering words : '' Peace on earth and good will amongst 
 men," and we submit that that doctrine with its mild and 
 humanizing tendencies would be far more becoming in the 
 mouths of the professed exponents of his words than those 
 bitter and angry denunciations which they are in the habit 
 of heaping on those they judge his foes. But we are 
 pained lo see, as we daily look over magazines and papers 
 from North and South, that this bitter rancor of partizan 
 feeling still survives the war; and we are constrained to 
 think that the " era of good feeling," if left to the wishes 
 of the clergy in the respective sections, will be a long time 
 coming. We make these reflections in no spirit of malev- 
 olence towards the distinguished editors of these papers, 
 and it is more in sorrow than in anger that we allude to 
 the subject — but it cannot escape the attention of the 
 least observant that such is the tone and tendency of 
 religious monthlies and weeklies, with few exceptions, 
 throughout the North and the South, at this time. We 
 sincerely regret it. When shall it cease? And when shall 
 those watchmen on the tower of Zion be found " pouring 
 oil upon the troubled waters," instead of hurling firebrands 
 through the land from their high and sacred positions ! 
 Let them rather preach Christ and Him crucified, than 
 Jeff. Davis or Abe Lincoln, and him justified ! 
 
39 
 LINES TO H. M. M.* 
 
 Friend of my youfcli's brief, tappy day, 
 I trust our bosoms still are one ; — 
 
 Still liglited by each genial ray, 
 
 That beams from love's warm, kindly sun. 
 
 Though Henry, years have intervened, 
 
 Since we in social converse met, 
 From thee my soul hath not been weaned ; 
 
 My memory thee can ne'er forget. 
 
 The scenes our early childhood knew. 
 To me are rendered doubly dear ; 
 
 I think of thee when them I view — 
 And they thrice sacred then appear. 
 
 By Chaplin's gentle, silvery stream, 
 Together often have we strayed, 
 
 And watched the placid moon's bright gleam, 
 That on the murmuring waters played. 
 
 When earth was decked in robes of spriap:, 
 Our steps through field and forest hied 
 
 To hear the wild birds on the wing, 
 
 Pour forth their native strains in pride. 
 
 The recollection of those hours 
 
 Will in this heart forever dwell ; 
 And bloom in sweetness there like flowers. 
 And bind my spirit in its spell. 
 Boyle County, Ky., 1839 
 
 *H. M. McCarty, Esq., at present associate editor of the Industrial 
 and Commercial Gazette. 
 
40 
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT SOCIETY AND 
 
 MAN. 
 
 The movements and the machinery of society are com- 
 plex — but there is one simple law\^hich governs the whole 
 that is, the law of reciprocity. In society pride is met 
 with pride ; condescension and politeness by correspond 
 ing demonstrations in the other party. 
 
 Humbleness and affability find their counterparts and 
 neighbors — hauteur exhibited is opposed by hauteur in 
 return — candor on the one part is met correspondingly 
 on the other ; while slyness and circumspection are 
 sure to arouse suspicion and reticence. There can be 
 no nobler appeal made to our human nature than a 
 trusting confidence implied in its sense of justice and 
 magnanimity and right. Treat a man as if you thought 
 him a god, and sometimes he will be a god. But treat 
 him as if you looked upon him as a demon, and frequent- 
 ly he is ready to play the demon at a moment's warning — 
 "and since he cannot prove jour lover," you will find him 
 "determined to play the villian." 
 
 There are the fewest number of natures in this world so 
 utterly depraved as to be insensible to that sort of flattery 
 which appeals directly to the higher and nobler qualities 
 of their souls. Plere they commonly give in, however 
 hard and abondoned, and you strike a deep chord that is 
 seldom if ever struck in vain. It brings directly the im- 
 mortal back to man and links him once again to the ser- 
 aphs with whom he erst walked and unto whom he is still 
 allied. Tne soul struggles in a moment through the sor- 
 did layers of passion, and straight asserts itself again — 
 anciently of God — eternally to endure as the pure es- 
 sence of truth — benighted for a season here — " lone, wan- 
 dering, but not lost" — its world and empire are of the pure 
 divinity of God, where love and happiness are kindred in 
 the climes from whence it came. And to the Christian, 
 the philosopher and the lover of his race, there is still a 
 blessed hope left amid all that seems so wrongly going and 
 so bewilderingly astray at times, that the earth will yet 
 
41 
 
 become the abode of man, redeemed and regenerated from 
 the evil now around him — associate of spirits from a hap- 
 pier clime, who were created but not born — who never 
 knew the sins or sorrows of this earth and shall then be 
 the fit associates of man redeemed : 
 
 "Whose heaven-erecled face 
 
 The smilea of love adorn," 
 
 and over whose nature shall have come the better influ- 
 ences of that benign religion whose essential essence is 
 charity and love, and whose eternal author once said 
 through the prophet-voice of one of his chosen apostles : 
 "Behold I create a new heaven and a new earth, wherein 
 dwelleth righteousness ; for the old things are passed 
 
 away 1 " 
 
 MY BLOOMING KATE. 
 
 Ye sacred Nine attend my prayer, 
 
 And bid the muse relate, 
 The many charms beyond compare, 
 
 That deck my blooming Kate. 
 
 Her lock3>re like the raven's wing, 
 As idle bards might prate ; 
 
 But I discern a fairer thing. 
 That decks my blooming kate. 
 
 A placid mindj a soul serene, 
 
 Are ever her estate ; 
 And that is why my soul, I ween, 
 
 Doth ever cling to Kate. 
 
 If she would deign to be my bride, 
 
 With love and joy elate, 
 I'd build a bower on Chaplin's side, 
 
 And thither bear my Kate. 
 
42 
 
 And as the tranquil days rolled on, 
 
 To Death's advancing date ; 
 My heart should own the bliss it won, 
 
 Beneath the smiles of Kate. 
 
 My mind should build no dreams of fame, 
 
 And sigh not to be great, 
 As in our cot I nursed the iiame, 
 
 That ceaseless burned for Kate. 
 
 The dove that coos from yonder tree, 
 
 To cheer his pensive mate, 
 Could not to her more constant be, 
 
 Than I would be to Kate 
 
 I'd watch her as some lovely flower. 
 
 And oft at eve await, 
 When twilight brought the tender hour. 
 
 The looked-for smile from Kate. 
 
 We'd dwell beside our humble stream, 
 
 Nor heed the frowns of fate, 
 If but our lowly cot should beam, 
 
 With treasured smiles from Kate. 
 
 TO LEONARD JOXES, ESQ. 
 
 ON HIS LATE RETURN FROM WASHINGTOxN CITY. 
 
 Illustrioua prophet of the flowing beard 
 And hair of most enormous length, 
 
 Again within our town hast thou appeared 
 In all thy capillary strength. 
 
 No false Delilah's keen and cru el shears 
 As yet thy jtoteut locks have shorn, 
 
 And left theo floundering in despair and tears, 
 Among the Philistines to mourn. 
 
 The self-same greasy coat of honest jeana 
 
 Adorns thy burly person yet ; 
 Thou changest not with life's gay shifting scenes, 
 
 Nor dost thy purposed aims forget. 
 
 For still thou runnest on for President, 
 
 Abandoning the canvass never ; 
 And yet on endless length of years intent, 
 
 Art threatening still to lite foeevee. 
 
43 
 HAVE YOU STRUCK " ILE ? 
 
 AN OLEAGINOUS POBM. 
 
 In Louisville the other day, 
 
 A venerable man I met, 
 Who, in a voice half sad, half gay. 
 
 Inquired if I,d struck "ile" as yet. 
 
 ''iN'ot so, my ancient friend," quoth I ; 
 
 " I have not hit that lucky tap, 
 But still have hopes that, by-and-by, 
 
 I'll wake Petroleum from his nap. 
 
 " Dupont, that bored the Artesian well, 
 'Twas long before he found the water. 
 
 But when 'twas found, ah, who could tell, 
 The dollars it would take to have bought her. 
 
 " Full forty feet it rose in air. 
 And bubbled up and on like thunder. 
 
 And still kept falling down from there. 
 To make the folks all stare and wonder. 
 
 " Succ€ BS will follow patient licks. 
 Given day by day to our endeavor, 
 
 As laughter follows monkey's tricks, 
 Or taade doth follow rail or river ; 
 
 " And so, old friend, though I've not found, 
 As yet, the "ile" which maketh rich, 
 
 I know it's somewhere under ground, 
 For I have long 'hearn tell of sich.' 
 
 " And, maybe, in my rambling routes 
 Across the State where I was born, 
 
 I'll come across one of those spouts, 
 That fills the space in plenty's horn ; 
 
 "And then I'll grease the wheels of life. 
 
 And in a rocking carriage ride — 
 I'll buy silk dresses for my wife, 
 
 Wherewith to stem bold fashion's tide— 
 
44 
 
 "And iu the said vehicle, too, 
 My wife aforesaid shall be borne. 
 
 Till from said wife, all trim and true, 
 By death or otherwise I'm torn," 
 
 Then did mine ancient friend reply, 
 While bowing low, and said to me : 
 
 ** I'll pray to him who rules the sky 
 That oil may yet be found of thee. 
 
 " Go on — stiil keep the patient search ; 
 
 Try mountain, rock, and dark ravine. 
 And thou so long left in the lurch 
 
 May yet at church someday be seen 
 
 " In white kid gloves and mottled shawl. 
 Sitting straight up iu thine own pew 
 
 Beside thy wife, the observed of all — 
 But time hastes on, my friond, adieu ! " 
 
 And down street went the said old man 
 
 Directly forth unto his store. 
 To fix and faishion many a plan 
 
 To please the buyers evermore. 
 
 He was, himself, this said old man, 
 "What's called "an oily man of God" — 
 
 In wealth's career he's with the van, 
 And worth some hundred thousands odd. 
 
 He did not bore in youth for oil. 
 
 Bat wore a grave and knowing face — 
 
 Long time in patience he did toil. 
 But afterAvards grew rich by grace. 
 
 Ee is a-wcalthy merchant now, 
 And I do blame him not at all ; 
 
 For he's got rich — would you know how — 
 The Church— the Shop is free for all. 
 
 Petroleum was my song at first ; 
 
 To it, then, I will straight return, 
 What glorious visions on me burst, 
 
 What chandeliers do blaze and burn : 
 
 r,f r. 
 
45 
 
 What gilded coaches meet my gaze, 
 What palaces all bright arise ; 
 
 To fancy's view the scene displays 
 More splendor than the star-lit skies. 
 
 What hosts of servants now attend 
 Lord Oilsome on his winding way, 
 
 What swarms of flatterers bow and bend— 
 His oil-bought span, how darkly bay — 
 
 How will mankind enjoy the time, 
 The halcyon days of love and peace. 
 
 And time's fleet steps move on sublime. 
 When all the world grows full of grease. 
 
 Oil on the waters shall be thrown. 
 All strife 'twixt man and man be laid ; 
 
 No gaunt and ghostly want be known, 
 No dimeless devil smashed in trade. 
 
 While that green money Salmon weaves 
 Shall be at par with glittering gold, 
 
 And plenty as the showers of leaves. 
 In Vallambrosa's woods of old. 
 
 Beside the clasic streams of oil ; 
 
 From busy Care's dull round released, 
 We'll rest from labor's ceaseless moil. 
 
 And see our flocks and herds ingreased. 
 
 Art then shall live — the sculptor's dream 
 In chiseled stone shall deck the plain. 
 
 Each sunny hill with splendor beam. 
 And ancient Grease return again. 
 
 Then let us bore I brave bojs, bore on ! 
 
 You'll strike the oozy stream at last j 
 Bore on till every dollar's gone. 
 
 For wealth ahead and granduer past : 
 
 Bore on till all the world's a boref 
 It augurs well for you and me — 
 
 We'll see what ne'er was seen before — 
 Wa'll see my boys, what we shall see. 
 
46 
 
 Plauge tako the man that will not strive 
 
 To better hia condition here, 
 And take the chances "while alive ; 
 
 For when he's dead they disappear. 
 
 The lazy lout that has no pride 
 To work for wealth and days of ease, 
 
 He'd better slope or stand aside. 
 Or, better still, "back out and grease." 
 
 Then let him rise and come ahead, 
 Take stock ot once and glorious grease 
 
 Possesa and have, grow rich and wed. 
 Or ever after hold his peace I 
 
 Great companies are forming now 
 Topenetarte this harmless earth ; 
 
 They 've left the hammer, forge and plow. 
 And trust to oil for wealth and worth. 
 
 And when they strike the vein of "ile," 
 It 's worse than any spouting whale — 
 
 Flows out and on for mony a mile. 
 And covers every hill and vale. 
 
 It flows along its solemn course. 
 And none its onward track can stay ; 
 
 It carries men and things by force — 
 Washing tools' teams, and towns away. 
 
 But see the golden dollars left ; 
 
 "Watch how the glittering greenbacks shine, 
 When "sich and svch" a cliff is cleft, 
 
 And forth doth well the lymph divine — 
 
 Old Nature's stores of liquid fat, 
 Whose rich supplies, all undecayed. 
 
 She's placed away in many a vat, 
 For references of future trade ;— 
 
 To oil the world's machinery well. 
 When that bright day by seers descried 
 
 Shall reach us and all men shall dwell 
 In peace and union, side by side. 
 
47 
 
 And nations freed from labor's chain 
 Shall by machinery till their lands , 
 
 Shall break the soil and reap the grain 
 Without the work of human hands* 
 
 The fruitful earth shall bring supplies 
 
 It costs no human sweat to earn, 
 And fully, amply shall suiBce 
 
 For all man's varied wants in turn. 
 
 Then bore away, I say again 1 
 
 Drive on through sun and wind and rain 1 
 Of "bores" and "strikes" let none complain. 
 
 Save those who bore and strike in vain. 
 
 Petroleum — true 'twould smell as loud 
 
 By any other chosen name. 
 And Oil Kings still would be as proud. 
 
 And Fortune still as much to blame 
 
 If any lost the pile they risked. 
 
 And from gay Croessus* Creek came back. 
 Where they had frolicked, danced, and frisked, 
 
 Along the raccoon's moonlght track ; 
 
 And pleyed at poker on a log, 
 
 Or courted mountain maids at eve. 
 
 And whispered love and drank their grog, 
 ** Cut up big dog," and took their leave. 
 
 However, there were not a few 
 Who bought and made it pay like smokg— 
 
 *There is some difficulty now afloat in the oil world, or among oil 
 men, about Crcessus creek and Crocus creek, in Cumberland Co., Ky., 
 as to whether there be two creeks of the above respective names, or 
 one creek only, called by turns Crocus or Crcessus, as the case may 
 be, with the last pronouncer. I myself am somewhat mystified 
 about it, and give the following verse supplementary and explanatory: 
 
 Now whether is meant to be Crocus or Crcossus, 
 None knoweth it rightly, and may the Lord bless us. 
 But the folks may be only intending to joke us, 
 By knowing it's Crosssus and calling it Crocus. 
 
48 
 
 They found the oil, and sold it, too, 
 At large advances — that's no joke. 
 
 And there was one — I knew him well — 
 A fellow whom the gods did love — 
 
 How often have I heard his yell 
 That made the welkin ring above : 
 
 He was a wild-man of the mountains, 
 Who took ten shares in virgin oil. 
 
 And bored right down to fortune's fountains. 
 Which up a thousand feet did boil. 
 
 His name was Jones, his surname Bill, 
 
 He ran right up a steep high hill. 
 
 And there became so much enthused, 
 
 (To such good fortune all unused). 
 
 He cried out in stentorian tones 
 
 That scared the crows and stirred the stones : 
 
 ** Hurrah for me and Betsy Jones I 
 
 **But yesterday a person mought, 
 "For 'ten and six' have bought me out; 
 "But now I'm rich as any cream, 
 "And stronger than a six horse team ! 
 
 "I'll buy out all these hills and hollers ; 
 •Tm worth at least ten thousand dollars ! 
 "I'll give big dinners to my frierds, 
 "And flourish till life's journey ends . 
 "Around my farm I'll build plank fences — 
 "Hurrah for Jones, and d n the expenses" 
 
 He said, and bounding high aloft, 
 Two dozen summersets did fling, 
 
 And then his coat and pants he doft. 
 And walked into the "Pigeon- wing I " 
 
 And there he was at last accounts. 
 Beside one of those oily founts — 
 With nought on earth his dreams to niffle, 
 Still leaning to the "double- shu^e I " 
 
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