Sketches of Southern Life | ||
SKETCHES OF SOUTHERN LIFE.
AUNT CHLOE.
That dark and dreadful day,
When they whispered to me, "Chloe,
Your children's sold away!"
Had shot me through and through,
And I felt as if my heart-strings
Was breaking right in two.
"There must be some mistake;
Where's Mistus?" "In the great house crying —
Crying like her heart would break.
Says he's come to 'ministrate,
'Cause when master died he just left
Heap of debt on the estate.
To bid your boys good-bye —
To kiss them both and shake their hands,
And have a hearty cry.
'Cause I'se been through it all;
I thought my poor old heart would break,
When master sold my Saul."
Of my children at the door,
And I rose right up to meet them,
But I fell upon the floor.
"Oh, mammy, don't you cry!"
And I felt my children kiss me
And bid me, both, good-bye.
Though I nursed it all alone;
But I wasted to a shadow,
And turned to skin and bone.
(In heaven he's now a saint)
Said, "Your poor heart is in the fire,
But child you must not faint."
If I was good like you,
When the heavy trouble dashed me
I'd know just what to do.
The way is open wide:"
And he told me of the Saviour,
And the fountain in His side.
To the blessed Master's feet;
I takes all my troubles, Chloe,
Right unto the mercy-seat."
And I began to pray,
And I felt my heavy burden
Rolling like a stone away.
You will see your boys again —
And that hope was like a poultice
Spread upon a dreadful pain.
Chloe, trust and never fear;
You'll get justice in the kingdom,
If you do not get it here.
THE DELIVERANCE.
One bright and handsome boy;
But she fairly doted on him,
He was her pride and joy.
He was so kind at heart;
And when the young folkes got in scrapes,
He always took their part.
Till he got big and tall,
And old Mistus used to chide him,
And say he'd spile us all.
When he took things in hand;
And though all the servants liked him,
He made them understand.
"Just bring my easy shoes:
I am going to sit by mother,
And read her up the news."
"We're bound to have a fight;
But we'll whip the Yankees, mother,
We'll whip them sure as night!"
She gasped and held her breath;
And she looked on Mister Thomas
With a face as pale as death.
Oh! I wish that I was there! —
Why, dear mother! what's the matter?
You're the picture of despair."
'Twould break my very heart
If a fierce and dreadful battle
Should tear our lives apart."
Would skulk unto the rear,
When the tyrant's hand is shaking
All the heart is holding dear."
She got too full to speak;
But I saw the great big tear-drops
A running down her cheek.
With choosing on that night,
Betwixt staying with his mother
And joining in the fight.
A call for volunteers;
Mistus gave up Mister Thomas,
With many sighs and tears.
He looked so brave and strong;
But somehow I couldn't help thinking
His fighting must be wrong.
I thought 'twould all come right,
For I felt somehow or other
We was mixed up in that fight.
"Now old Mistus feels the sting,
For this parting with your children
Is a mighty dreadful thing."
"Just wait and watch and pray,
For I feel right sure and certain,
Slavery's bound to pass away;
If God is good and just,
How it happened that the masters
Did grind us to the dust.
Such should not always be;
And you could not beat it out my head,
The Spirit spoke to me."
And his lips put on a smile,
Saying, "Pick up faith and courage,
And just wait a little while."
That the Secesh all might win;
We were praying in the cabins,
Wanting freedom to begin.
Telling 'bout the Bull's Run fight,
That his troops had whipped the Yankees
And put them all to flight.
She laughed and praised the South,
But I thought some day she'd laugh
On tother side her mouth.
And when it looked quite long
I would say to Cousin Milly,
The battle's going wrong;
My heart 'would fairly skip,
When Uncle Jacob used to say,
"The North is bound to whip."
Let North or South prevail —
He always kept his courage up,
And never let it fail.
"Children, don't forget to pray;
For the darkest time of morning
Is just 'fore the break of day."
We heard the fife and drum,
And the booming of the cannon —
The Yankee troops had come.
The colored folks are free —
In the kitchens and the cabins
We held a jubilee.
Said that slavery was dead,
We just poured our prayers and blessings
Upon his precious head.
And prayed, and sang, and cried,
And we thought dear Uncle Jacob
Would fairly crack his side.
She groaned and hardly spoke;
When she had to lose her servants,
Her heart was almost broke.
Going out, the troops to meet,
Almost dancing to the music,
And marching down the street.
Our chains was broke in two,
And we was so mighty happy,
We didn't know what to do.
Though the way at first was rough;
But we weathered through the tempest,
For slavery made us tough.
It almost turned my head,
When a mean and wicked cretur
Shot Mister Lincoln dead.
I just staggered on my feet;
And the women they were crying
And screaming in the street.
Could bear him to the throne,
I should think when Mister Lincoln died,
That heaven just got its own.
What do you call his name?
Well, if the colored folks forget him
They wouldn't be much to blame.
Of all the colored race;
But when the Rebels pressed us hard
He never showed his face.
Right curi's I'll be bound,
'Cause I heard 'em talking 'bout a circle
That he was swinging round.
He went like time and tide —
And when the next election came
They let poor Andy slide.
And if I was a man
I'd vote for him for breaking up
The wicked Ku-Klux Klan.
If I would sell my vote,
I'd tell him I was not the one
To change and turn my coat;
I'd weather through the gale;
And as to buying up my vote,
I hadn't it for sale.
As slack as Jonas Handy;
Because I heard he sold his vote
For just three sticks of candy.
His wife some flour and meat,
And told her he had sold his vote
For something good to eat,
And heard her blaze away;
She gave the meat and flour a toss,
And said they should not stay.
For voting the wrong side;
And when Aunt Kitty scolded him,
He just stood up and cried.
Was when poor David Rand
Sold out for flour and sugar;
The sugar was mixed with sand.
His wife had company,
And she thought the sand was sugar,
And served it up for tea.
Somehow it didn't taste right;
I guess when he found he was sipping sand,
He was made enough to fight.
It was spread some inches deep —
But underneath was a lot of sand;
Such sugar is mighty cheap.
Upon her husband's track;
When he sold his vote for rations
She made him take 'em back.
Just follow after Joe,
And told him if he voted wrong
To take his rags and go.
His side had won the day,
Had not we women radicals
Just got right in the way.
That all our men are shabby;
But 'tis said in every flock of sheep
There will be one that's scabby.
They tried to buy John Slade;
But he gave them all to understand
That he wasn't in that trade.
Who rally round the cause,
And go for holding up the hands
That gave us equal laws
Of blood and pain and treasure,
For them to fool away their votes
For profit or for pleasure.
AUNT CHLOE'S POLITICS.
About these politics,
But I think that some who run 'em,
Do mighty ugly tricks.
And talk so awful sweet,
That you'd think them full of kindness,
As an egg is full of meat.
Honest people in the face,
And saying when you're doing wrong,
That "I haven't sold my race."
If the money isn't there,
Whether black or white have took it,
The loss we all must share.
Is something worse than mean,
Though I thinks a heap of voting,
I go for voting clean.
LEARNING TO READ.
Came down and set up school;
But, oh! how the Rebs did hate it, —
It was agin' their rule.
Book learning from our eyes;
Knowledge didn't agree with slavery —
'Twould make us all too wise.
A little from the book,
And put the words together,
And learn by hook or crook.
Who took pot liquor fat
And greased the pages of his book,
And hid it in his hat.
The leaves upon his head,
He'd have thought them greasy papers,
But nothing to be read.
Who heard the children spell,
And picked the words right up by heart,
And learned to read 'em well.
The Yankee teachers down;
And they stood right up and helped us,
Though Rebs did sneer and frown.
For precious words it said;
But when I begun to learn it,
Folks just shook their heads,
Oh! Chloe, you're too late;
But as I was rising sixty,
I had no time to wait.
And straight to work I went,
And never stopped till I could read
The hymns and Testament.
A place to call my own —
And I felt as independent
As the queen upon her throne.
CHURCH BUILDING.
Since freedom blessed our race
We ought all to come together
And build a meeting place.
A little here and there:
Though our wages was but scanty,
The church did get a share.
Uncle Jacob came to pray;
He was looking mighty feeble,
And his head was awful gray.
His eyes looked bright and young;
And it seemed a mighty power
Was resting on his tongue.
'Twas parting words he said,
For soon we got the message
The dear old man was dead.
For when we shook his hand
He said, "Children, you must meet me
Right in the promised land;
And toiling here below,
Through the gate into the city
Straightway I hope to go."
THE REUNION.
I was going down the street,
And I heard a stranger asking
For Missis Chloe Fleet.
That made me feel quite shaky,
And when I looked right in his face,
Who should it be but Jakey!
What gladness filled my cup!
And I laughed, and just rolled over,
And laughed, and just give up.
Why didn't you come before?
Oh! when you children went away
My heart was awful sore."
Since ever I've been free,
And I have heard from brother Ben, —
He's down in Tennessee.
"And children?" "Yes, he's three."
"You married, too?" "Oh no, indeed,
I thought I'd first get free."
And comfort my poor heart;
Old Mistus got no power now
To tear us both apart.
Because I have got my son;
And Mister Thomas he is dead,
And she's got nary one.
That he must come this fall,
And we'll make the cabin bigger,
And that will hold us all.
Before my life do cease:
And then, like good old Simeon,
I hope to die in peace."
"I THIRST."
FIRST VOICE.
The fever coursing through my veins,
The healing stream is far away —
It flows through Salem's lovely plains.
Break ever o'er this world of strife;
My heart is weary, let me go,
To bathe it in the stream of life;
Have bathed in this pure healing stream,
And felt their griefs and cares depart,
E'en like some sad forgotten dream.
SECOND VOICE.
"The Word is nigh thee, even in thy heart."
Who shall ascend above,
To bring unto thy fever'd lips
The fount of joy and love.
Where death's pale angels tread,
To hear the murmur of its flow
Around the silent dead.
Fed from the springs above;
There quench thy thirst till thou shalt bathe
In God's own sea of love.
THE DYING QUEEN.
"I would meet death awake."
Was ebbing fast away,
And o'er the pale and life-worn face,
Death's solemn shadows lay.
Friends gathered round her bed,
And for her sake each footfall hushed
The echoes of its tread.
Through every nerve did creep,
And carefully they tried to lull
The dying Queen to sleep.
Her failing heart-strings shake;
And, rousing up, she firmly said,
"I'd meet my God awake."
And born the cares of state;
Nor shall I take your lethean cup,
And slumber at death's gate.
The path where foes did tend;
And shall I veil my eyes with sleep,
To meet my God and friend?
This heavy slumber shake,
That I may pass the mystic vale,
And meet my God awake.
THE JEWISH GRANDFATHER'S STORY.
And a story I will tell.
How we builded the beautiful temple —
The temple we love so well.
To a distant age and land,
When God did break our fathers' chains
By his mighty outstretched hand
Where the ancient Nile doth flow;
Smitten by cruel taskmasters,
And burdened by toil and woe.
Doth lead with care his sheep,
So God divided the great Red Sea,
And led them through the deep.
And guard it with patient care,
Till its roots struck in the mellow earth,
And it drank the light and air.
As a vine in this fair land;
And we grew and spread a fruitful tree,
The planting of his right hand.
All the story of our race —
Of our grand old leader, Moses,
And Joshua in his place,
From Joshua unto Saul,
Over whose doomed and guilty head
Fell ruin and death's dark pall.
With sudden grief did bow,
When his daughter came with dance and song
Unconscious of his vow.
To him who rules the sky,
And wringing out his well drenched fleece,
When all around was dry.
A judge in Israel rose,
And wrested victory from the hands
Of Jacob's heathen foes.
The last who ruled our tribes,
Whose noble life and cleanly hands,
Were pure and free from bribes.
Our tuneful minstrel king,
Who breathed in sadness and delight,
The psalms we love to sing.
From Jacob's God did stray,
And cast the richest gifts of life,
In pleasure's cup away.
But found him weak and vain,
Until the kingdom from his hands
Was rudely rent in twain.
They widen as they go,
And leave behind them shades of death,
And open gates of woe.
Ran through our nation's life,
And wicked kings provoked our God,
And sin and woe were rife.
A day of grief and dread;
When judgment like a fearful storm
Swept o'er our country's head.
Where Babel's stream doth flow;
With harps unstrung, on willows hung,
We wept in silent woe.
Our captors asked to hear;
Our hearts were full, how could we sing
The songs to us so dear?
Which fades, as wanes the night,
So God did change our gloomy lot
From darkness into light.
A sumptuous feast did hold;
He praised his gods and drank his wine
From sacred cups of gold.
Had filled with mirth each hall,
Belshazzar raised his eyes and saw
A writing on the wall.
His lips were white with fear;
To read the words he quickly called
For wise men, far and near.
Stood silent in the room,
When Daniel came, a captive youth,
And read the words of doom.
Belshazzar lifeless lay;
The Persians grasped his fallen crown,
And with the Mede held sway.
A man of high renown;
But wicked courtiers schemed and planned
To drag the prophet down.
Great honors on their king —
With flattering lips and oily words,
Desired a certain thing.
Towards Salem turned his face,
And asked the king to sign a law
His hands might not erase.
No cherished wish or thing
Should any ask of men or Gods,
Unless it were the king.
His windows opened wide,
Regardless of the king's command,
Unto his God he cried.
The hungry lion's meat,
Awe struck, the lions turned away
And crouched anear his feet.
His servant in the den;
The fate devised for Daniel's life
O'er took those scheming men.
And gave the blest command,
That we, the scattered Jews, should build
Anew our fallen land.
Were filled with bitter rage,
And 'gainst the progress of our work
Did evil men engage.
And Gashmu uttered lies,
But like a thing of joy and light,
We saw our temple rise.
Unto the corner gate,
We built the wall and did restore
The places desolate.
And scoffingly did say,
"If but a fox climb on the wall,
Their work will give away."
Though heathen foes did frown
"My work is great," he firmly said,
"And I cannot come down."
The temple door to close,
To hide, lest he should fall a prey
Unto his cruel foes.
He would oppose the tide,
Should such as he from danger flee,
And in the temple hide?"
Until we built the wall,
And then, unto a joyful feast
Did priest and people call.
With sacrifice and joy —
A happy throng, from aged sire
Unto the fair-haired boy.
Did joyous laughter fill,
And strong men wept with sacred joy
To stand on Zion's hill.
We built our city blest,
And 'neath our sheltering vines and palms
To-day in peace we rest.
SHALMANEZER, PRINCE OF COSMAN.
Shalmanezer, Prince of Cosman, stood on the threshold of manly life, having just received a rich inheritance which had been left him by his father.
He was a magnificent-looking creature — the very incarnation of manly strength and beauty. The splendid poise of his limbs, the vigor and litheness of his motions, the glorious light that flashed from his splendid dark eyes, the bright joyous smiles that occasionally wreathed his fresh young lips, and the finely-erect carriage of his head, were enough to impress the beholder with the thought, "Here is an athlete armed for a glorious strife!"
While Shalmanezer was thinking upon his rich inheritance and how he should use it, he suddenly lifted his eyes and saw two strange-looking personages standing near him. They both advanced towards Shalmanezer when they saw their presence had attracted his attention.
The first one that approached the young man and addressed him, was named Desire. He was a pleasant-looking youth, with a flushed face, and eager, restless eyes. He looked as if he had been pursuing a journey, or had been grasping at an object he had failed to obtain. There was something in his manner that betrayed a want of rest — a look in his eyes which seemed to say, "I am not satisfied." But when he approached, he smiled in the most seductive manner, and, reaching out his hand to Shalmanezer said:
"I have come to welcome thee to man's estate, and for thy enjoyment, I have brought thee three friends who will lead thee into the brightest paths, and press to thy lips the sweetest elixirs."
Gladly the young man received the greeting of Desire, who immediately introduced his three companions, whose names were, Pleasure, Wealth, and Fame. — Pleasure was a most beautiful creature. Her lovely dark eyes flashed out a laughing light; upon her finely-carved lips hovered the brightest and sweetest smiles, which seemed ever ready to break into merry ripples of laughter; her robe was magnificently beautiful, as if it had imprisoned in its warp and woof the beauty of the rainbow and the glory of the setting sun; in her hand she held a richly wrought chalice in which sparkled and effervesced a ruby-colored liquid which was as beautiful to the eye as it was pleasant to the taste. When Pleasure was presented to Shalmanezer, she held out to him her cup and said in the sweetest tones:
As rubies distilled in the morning light;
A truce to sorrow and adieu to pain —
Here's the cup to strengthen, soothe and sustain."
Just as Shalmanezer was about to grasp the cup, the other personage approached him. Her name was Peace, and she was attended by a mild, earnest-looking young man called Self Denial. In the calm depths of her dark-blue eyes was a tender, loving light, and on her brow a majestic serenity which seemed to say, "The cares of earth are at my feet; in vain its tempests sweep around my path." There was also a look of calm, grand patience on the brow of her attendant, which gave him the aspect of one who had passed through suffering unto Peace. Shalmanezer was gazing eagerly on the fair young face of Pleasure, and about to quaff the sparkling nectar, when Peace suddenly arrested his hand and exclaimed:
Is an undercurrent of shame and woe;
'Neath its sparkling sheen so fair and bright,
Are serpents that hiss, and adders that bite."
The young man paused a moment, looked on the plain garb of Peace and then on the enchanting loveli-ness of Pleasure, and, pushing aside the hand of Peace with a scornful gesture, he said proudly and de-fiantly:
"I will follow Pleasure!"
Peace, thus repulsed, turned sadly away; and Self-Denial, wounded by Shalmanezer's rude rejection, bowed his head in silent sorrow and disappeared from the scene.
As Peace departed, Shalmanezer eagerly grasped the cup of Pleasure and pressed it to his lips, while she clasped her hand in his and said in a most charming manner, "Follow me;" and then he went willingly to the place where she dwelt.
As Shalmanezer approached the palace of Pleasure he heard the sweetest music rising on the air in magnificent swells or sinking in ravishing cadences; at his feet were springing the brightest and fairest flowers; the sweetest perfumes were bathing the air with the most exquisite fragrance; beautiful girls moved like visions of loveliness through the mazy dance; rare old wines sparkled on the festal board; the richest viands and most luscious fruits tempted the taste; and laughter, dance and song filled the air with varied delights. For a while Shalmanezer was enraptured with the palace of Pleasure. But soon he became weary of its gay confusion. The merry ripples of laughter lost their glad freshness; the once delightful music seemed to faint into strange monotones — whether the defect was in his ear or in the music he could not tell, but somehow it had ceased to gratify him; the constant flow of merry talk grew strangely distasteful to him; the pleasant viands began to pall upon his taste; at times he thought he detected a bitterness in the rare old wines which
Shalmanezer sat moodily wishing that Desire would return and bring with him another attendant to whom he had been introduced when he had first clasped hands with Pleasure, and whose name was Wealth. While he was musing, he lifted up his eyes and saw Wealth and Desire standing at the door of his Boudoir, and near them he saw the sweet loving face of Peace, who was attended by Self Denial. Peace was about to approach him, but he repulsed her with an impatient frown, and turning to Desire he said:
"I have grown weary of Pleasure, and I wish to be introduced to the halls of Wealth."
Taller, graver and less fair was Wealth, than her younger sister, Pleasure. If the beauty of Pleasure could be compared to the vernal freshness of Spring — that of Wealth suggested the maturity of golden harvests, and ripe autumnal fruits. Like Pleasure, she was very richly attired; a magnificent velvet robe fell in graceful folds around her well-proportioned form; like prisms of captured light, the most beautiful jewels gleamed and flashed in her hair; a girdle of the finest and most exquisitely wrought gold was clasped around her waist; her necklace and bracelets were formed of the purest jewels and finest diamonds. — But there was something in her face which betokened a want which all her wealth could not sup-ply. There was a mournful restlessness in her eye
"Shalmanezer," said Desire to Wealth, "has grown weary of thy sister, Pleasure, and would fain dwell in thy stately halls. Is there aught to hinder him from being one of thy favored guests?"
"Nothing at all," said Wealth, smiling. "The rich inheritance left him by his father has been increasing in value, and I am glad that he was too wise to throw in Pleasure's cup life's richest gifts away."
With these words she reached out her jewelled hand to Shalmanezer and said, "Follow me!"
Weary of the halls of Pleasure, Shalmanezer gladly rose to follow Wealth. As he was leaving, he paused a moment to bid adieu to Pleasure. But she was so changed, that he did not recognize in the faded woman with the weary, listless manner, dull eyes and hollow cheeks, the enchanting girl, who, a few years before, had led him to her halls a welcome and delighted guest. All was so changed. It seemed more like a dream than a reality, that he had dwelt for years in what now seemed like a disenchanted palace. The banquet table was strewn with broken and tasteless fragments; the flowers had lost their fragrance and beauty, and lay in piles of scentless leaves; the soft sweet music had fainted into low
"Come," said Wealth, "my Chariot waits thee at the door."
Without one pang of regret, Shalmanezer turned from the halls of Pleasure, to ride with Wealth in her magnificent chariot.
As they drove along, Wealth showed Shalmanezer the smoke rising from a thousand factories. Pausing a moment, she said: — "I superintend these works and here are my subjects."
Shalmanezer gazed on the colossal piles of brick and mortar, as those castles of industry met his eye. Just then the bell rang, and he saw issuing from amid the smoke and whir of machinery a sight that filled his soul with deep compassion.
There were pale, sad-looking women wending their way home to snatch some moment's rest, and an humble meal before returning to their tasks. There were weary-looking men, who seemed to be degenerating in mental strength and physical vigor. There were young children who looked as if the warm fresh currents of life in their veins had been touched with premature decay. And saddest of all — he saw young girls who looked as if they were rapidly changing from unsophisticated girlhood into over-ripe womanhood.
"Are these thy servants?" said Shalmanezer, sadly.
"These," said Wealth, "are my servants, but not
Bending down to her finely-liveried coachman, she whispered in his ear, and in a few minutes the factories, with their smoke and din, were left behind. Beautiful lawns, lovely parks, and elegant residences rose before the pleased eyes of Shalmanezer; beautiful children sported on the lawns; lovely girls roamed in the parks; and the whole scene was a bright contrast to those he had left behind.
At length they rode up an avenue of stately trees, and stopped at the home of Wealth. "Here is my dwelling," she said, "enter and be my welcome guest."
Shalmanezer accepted the invitation, and entering, gazed with delighted wonder on the splendor and beauty of the place. On the walls hung most beautiful pictures surrounded by the richest frames — rare creations of the grand old masters; lovely statues suggested the idea of life strangely imprisoned in marble; velvet carpets sank pleasantly beneath his tread; elegant book cases, inlaid with ivory and pearl, held on the shelves the grand and noble productions of the monarchs of mind who still rule from their graves in the wide realms of thought and imagination. In her halls were sumptuous halls for feasting; delightful alcoves for thought and meditation;
"Surely," said Shalmanezer, "he must be a strangely restless creature, who cannot be satisfied in this home of beauty, grace and affluence." And yet, while he spake, he was conscious of a sense of unrest. He tried to shake it off, but still it would return. He would find himself sighing amid the fairest scenes — oppressed with a sense of longing for something he could not define. His eye was not satisfied with seeing, nor his ear with hearing. It seemed as if life had been presented to him as a luscious fruit, and he had eagerly extracted its richest juices, and was ready to throw away the bitter rind in hopeless disgust.
While he sat gloomily surveying the past, and feeling within his soul a hunger which neither Wealth nor Pleasure could appease, he lifted his eyes towards a distant mountain whose summit was crowned with perpetual snows, although a thousand sunbeams warmed and cheered the vale below. As he gazed, he saw a youth with a proud gait, buoyant step and flashing eye, climbing the mount. In his hand he held a beautifully embossed card, on which was written an invitation from Fame to climb her almost inaccessible heights and hear the sweetest music
"Here," said Shalmanezer, "is a task worthy of my powers. I have wasted much of my time in the halls of Pleasure; I have grown weary of the stately palaces of Wealth; I will go forth and climb the heights of Fame, and find a welcome in the suncrowned palaces of Renown. O, the sight of that young man inspires my soul, and gives new tone and vigor to my life. I will not pause another moment to listen to the blandishments of Wealth. Instead of treading on these soft carpets, I will brace my soul to climb the rugged heights to gaze upon the fair face of Fame."
Just as he was making this resolve, he saw Peace and her attendant gazing anxiously and silently upon him. His face flushed with sudden anger; a wrathful light flashed from his eyes; and turning his face coldly from Peace, he said: "I do wish Peace would come without her unwelcome companion — Self-Denial I do utterly and bitterly hate." Peace again repulsed, turned sadly away, followed by Self-Denial. With eager haste Shalmanezer rose up and left the bowers of Ease and halls of Pride, to tread the rugged heights of Fame, with patient, ready feet. As he passed upwards, new vigor braced his nerves. He felt an exhilaration of spirits he had never enjoyed in the
Very stately and grand was the cloud-capped palace of Fame. The pillars of her lofty abode were engraven with the names of successful generals, mighty conquerors, great leaders, grand poets, illustrious men and celebrated women. There were statues on which the tooth of Time was slowly gnawing; the statues of men whose brows had once been surrounded by a halo of glory, but were now darkened by the shadow of their crimes. Those heights which had seemed so enchanting at a distance,
Fame heard the voice of her votary, and came out to place upon his brow her greenest bays and brightest laurels, and bid him welcome to her palace; but when she saw the deathly whiteness of his face, she shrank back in pity and fear. The light was fading from his eye; his limbs had lost their manly strength; and Fame feared that the torpor of Death would overtake him before she could crown him as her honored guest. She bent down her ear to the sufferer, and heard him whisper slowly, "Peace! Peace!"
Then said Fame to her servants, "Descend to the vale, bring the best medical skill ye can find, and search for Peace, and entreat her to come; tell her that one of my votaries lies near to death, and longs for her presence." The servants descended to the vale, and soon returned, bringing with them a celebrated physician. — Peace had heard the cry of Shalmanezer, and had entered the room with her companion before the doctor had come. When the physician saw Shalmanezer, he gazed anxiously upon him, felt the fluttering pulse, and chafed the pale cold hands to restore the warmth and circulation.
In the meantime, Pleasure and Wealth having heard the story of Shalmanezer's illness, entered the room. "There is but one thing," said the physician, "can save Shalmanezer's life: some one must take the warm healthy blood from his veins and inject it into Shalmanezer's veins before he can be restored to health."
Pleasure and Wealth looked aghast when they heard the doctor's prescription. Pleasure suddenly remembered that she had a pressing engagement; Wealth said "I am no longer young, nor even well, and am sure I have not one drop of blood to spare;" Fame pitied her faithful votary, but amid the cold blasts that swept around her home, was sure it would be very imprudent for her to attempt to part with so much blood. Just as Pleasure, Wealth and Fame had refused to give the needed aid, Desire entered the room, but when he heard the conditions for the restoration of Shalmanezer, shrank back in selfish dismay, and refused also.
As Shalmanezer lay gasping for breath, and looking wistfully at his old companions, Peace, attended by Self-Denial, drew near the sick man's couch. Shalmanezer opened his eyes languidly, and closed them wearily; when life was like a joyous dream, he had repulsed Peace and utterly hated Self Denial, and what could he dare hope from either in his hour of dire extremity. While he lay with his eyes half-closed, Self Denial approached the bedside, and baring his arm, said to the doctor:
"Here is thy needed remedy. Take the blood from these veins, and with it restore Shalmanezer to health and strength."
The doctor struck his lancet into Self-Denial's arm, and drawing from it the needed quantity of blood, injected it into Shalmanezer's veins. The remedy was effectual. Health flushed the cheeks of Shalmanezer,
OUT IN THE COLD.
Under the eaves of homes so bright:
Snowflakes falling o'er mother's grave
Will no one rescue, no one save?
A lamb not sheltered in any fold,
Hearing the wolves of hunger bark,
Out in the cold! and out in the dark
That lies in the mother's good-night kiss;
And hearing no loving father's prayer,
For blessings his children all may share.
To sleep mid the curses of drunken men
And women, not as God has made,
Wrecked and ruined, wronged and betrayed.
And shield the hapless one from harm;
Where the waves of sin are dashing wild
Rescue and save the drifting child.
In the fair haven of a home;
Tenderly lead the motherless girl
Up to the gates of purest pearl.
From thorny paths may yet be stayed;
And a crimson track through the cold dark night
May exchange to a line of loving light.
SAVE THE BOYS.
I cannot break this fearful spell,
Nor quench the fires I've madly nursed,
Nor cool this dreadful raging thirst.
Take back your pledge — ye come too late!
Ye cannot save me from my fate,
Nor bring me back departed joys;
But ye can try to save the boys.
Arise and be a man again,
When every street with snares is spread,
And nets of sin where'er I tread.
No; I must reap as I did sow.
The seeds of sin bring crops of woe;
But with my latest breath I'll crave
That ye will try the boys to save.
This sin-crushed heart was glad and light;
But by the wine-cup's ruddy glow
I traced a path to shame and woe.
A captive to my galling chain,
I've tried to rise, but tried in vain —
The cup allures and then destroys.
Oh! from its thraldom save the boys.
Into whose gilded snares I fell.
Oh! freemen, from these foul decoys
Arise, and vote to save the boys.
Oh ye who license men to trade
In draughts that charm and then degrade,
Before ye hear the cry, Too late,
Oh, save the boys from my sad fate.
NOTHING AND SOMETHING.
With a careless toss of her pretty head;
The man is weak if he can't refrain
From the cup you say is fraught with pain.
It was something to her in after years;
When her eyes were drenched with burning tears,
And she watched in lonely grief and dread,
And startled to hear a staggering tread.
I have no fear that my boy will tread
In the downward path of sin and shame,
And crush my heart and darken his name.
It was something to her when that only son
From the path of right was early won,
And madly cast in the flowing bowl
A ruined body and sin-wrecked soul.
In his eye was a flash of scorn and pride;
I heed not the dreadful things ye tell:
I can rule myself I know full well.
It was something to him when in prison he lay
The victim of drink, life ebbing away;
And thought of his wretched child and wife,
And the mournful wreck of his wasted life.
As over his ledger he bent his head;
I'm busy to-day with tare and tret,
And I have no time to fume and fret.
It was something to him when over the wire
A message came from a funeral pyre —
A drunken conductor had wrecked a train,
And his wife and child were among the slain.
The party's loss is my greatest dread;
Then gave his vote for the liquor trade,
Though hearts were crushed and drunkards made.
It was something to him in after life,
When his daughter became a drunkard's wife
And her hungry children cried for bread,
And trembled to hear their father's tread.
While the cohorts of death their vigils keep?
To gather the young and thoughtless in
And grind in our midst a grist of sin?
It is something, yes, all, for us to stand
Clasping by faith our Saviour's hand;
To learn to labor, live and fight
On the side of God and changeless light.
WANDERER'S RETURN.
My wandering boy has returned to-night.
He is blighted and bruised, I know, by sin,
But I am so glad to welcome him in.
Has broken away from the tempter's snare;
To-night my heart is o'erflowing with joy,
I have found again my wandering boy.
Mine eyes have been drenched with the bitterest tears;
Like shadows that fade are my past alarms,
My boy is enclasped in his mother's arms.
Where sin with its evil attractions smiled.
But his wandering feet have ceased to roam,
And to-night my wayward boy is at home —
With the hearts that have ached with sad unrest,
With the hearts that are thrilling with untold joy
Because we have found our wandering boy.
I only behold my returning child,
And the blissful tears from my eyes that start
Are the overflow of a happy heart.
I have sought in prayer for my sole relief;
But the depths of my heart to-night are stirred,
I know that the mother's prayer has been heard.
For her child, sin-weary and desolate,
Oh what must the love of the Father be
For souls who have wandered like you and me!
"FISHERS OF MEN."
Before my ravished sight
The city of my Lord arose,
With all its love and light.
Flowed out with sweet accord;
And saints were casting down their crowns
In homage to our Lord.
Life's toil and pain were o'er;
My weary feet at last had found
The bright and restful shore.
Ready to enter in,
From earth arose a fearful cry
Of sorrow and of sin.
A wild and stormy sea;
And drowning men were reaching out
Imploring hands to me.
And moaning for relief;
The music of the golden harps
Grew fainter for their grief.
Close to the pearly gate;
My work is with these wretched ones,
So wrecked and desolate.
This is the gate of life,
Wilt thou return to earth's sad scenes,
Its weariness and strife,
To dry the falling tear,
Wilt thou forego the music sweet
Entrancing now thy ear?
The strugglers in that sea
Shall not reach out beseeching hands
In vain for help to me.
The gloomy sea grew bright,
And from my heart there seemed to flow
Ten thousand cords of light.
Did grasp each golden cord;
And with my heart I drew them on
To see my gracious Lord.
My heart was glad and free;
For with me stood a rescued throng
The Lord had given me.
SIGNING THE PLEDGE.
Its sparkle and its glow?
I tell you this cup has brought to me
A world of shame and woe.
One day with joy and pride,
With orange blossoms in her hair,
I claimed her as my bride.
Till death our lives should part;
I've drenched her soul with floods of grief,
And almost crushed her heart.
Beneath her weight of years?
I've filled that aged mother's eyes
With many bitter tears.
And tries her child to save;
I've almost brought her gray hairs down
In sorrow to the grave.
Are gazing on my face?
I've overshadowed his young life
With sorrow and disgrace.
His heart was light and glad;
I've seen him tremble at my voice,
I've made that heart so sad.
My mother, wife, and boy
Shall read my purpose on that pledge
And smile through tears of joy.
I cast the wine-cup down,
And from the dust of a sinful life
Lift up my manhood's crown.
With roses yet shall bloom,
And joy shall light my mother's eyes
On the margin of the tomb.
With brow so fair and mile,
Shall not be taunted on the streets,
And called a drunkard's child.
Whiten with grief and dread,
Because I've madly staggered home
And sold for drink his bread.
Shall battle with my fate;
And peace and comfort crown the home
By drink made desolate.
Clings to a rocky ledge,
With trembling hands I've learned to grasp
The gospel and the pledge.
I've rent each hateful band,
And by the help of grace divine
A victor hope to stand.
Sketches of Southern Life | ||