“I saw the ship go dancing on before the favouring gale,
And like the pinions of a swan was spread each swelling sail;
But ere again uprose the sun, rose many a shriek and wail;
Ere morn the gallant ship was gone--vanished the snowy sail!”
The ship rode far upon the silent main; ’twas night,
A beautiful, still night; no moon was there,
But the bright stars were hanging overhead
In golden clusters; and the breathless sea
Gave them all back; while the tall vessel seemed
A fairy home, suspended ’twixt two heavens.
And there were happy hearts within her then;
That eve they had descried the distant shore
Of their own land; and all had gone to rest
In the dear hope that ere another day
Their feet would press again their native soil;
Then the rich merchant dreamed how his gay stores
Would well reward his exile; and the youth
Thought of his loved one, and in fancy touch’d
Already her rose-lips; while the fond sire
Dreamed of his wife and children, and his hearth
With their bright faces gathered round, like stars,
To hearken to the marvels of his voyage.
…
There is a stillness over sea and heaven--
A placid calm, a holy peace; alas!
Whence is that sudden cry--that rising flame
That bursts from the fair vessel? ’Tis no fire
Of heaven, no angry lightning, that hath struck
And blasted it! A moment, and the scene
That was so fair is changed; the heavens above
And still as ever; but the death-fire glows
Upon the burnished waters! Groans and prayers
Rise up all vainly! There’s a sudden shriek,
Like to an earthquake; and the hopes and fears
Of many hearts, the vessel and its freight,
Are vanished--scattered into nameless things,
And all is swallowed up and lost!
--_From the Knickerbocker._
* * * * *
TRUE CHARITY.--The lowest order of charity is that which is satisfied
with relieving the immediate pressure of distress in individual cases.
A higher is, that which makes provision on a large scale for the relief
of such distress; as when a nation passes on from common almsgiving to
a general provision for the destitute. A higher still is, when such
provision is made in the way of anticipation, or for distant objects; as
when the civilization of savages, the freeing of slaves, the treatment
of the insane, or the education of the blind and deaf and mutes, is
undertaken. The highest charity of all is, that which aims at the
prevention rather than the alleviation of evil. It is a nobler charity to
prevent destitution, crime, and ignorance, than to relieve individuals
who never ought to have been made destitute, criminal, and ignorant.
* * * * *
EMPLOYMENT FOR THE UNHAPPY.--The unhappy are indisposed to employment:
all active occupations are wearisome and disgusting in prospect, at a
time when every thing, life itself, is full of weariness and disgust.
Yet the unhappy must be employed, or they will go mad. Comparatively
blessed are they, if they are set in families, where claims and duties
abound, and cannot be escaped. In the pressure of business there is
present safety and ultimate relief. Harder is the lot of those who have
few necessary occupations, enforced by other claims than their own
harmlessness and profitableness. Reading often fails. Now and then it
may beguile; but much oftener the attention is languid, the thoughts
wander, and associations with the subject of grief are awakened. Women
who find that reading will not do, will obtain no relief from sewing.
Sewing is pleasant enough in moderation to those whose minds are at
ease the while; but it is an employment which is trying to the nerves
when long continued, at the best; and nothing can be worse for the
harassed, and for those who want to escape from themselves. Writing is
bad. The pen hangs idly suspended over the paper, or the sad thoughts
that are alive within write themselves down. The safest and best of all
occupations for such sufferers as are fit for it, is intercourse with
young children. An infant might have beguiled Satan and his peers the
day after they were couched on the lake of fire, if the love of children
had chanced to linger amidst the ruins of their angelic nature. Next to
this comes honest, genuine acquaintanceship among the poor; not mere
charity-visiting, grounded on soup-tickets and blankets, but intercourse
of mind, with real mutual interest between the parties. Gardening is
excellent, because it unites bodily exertion with a sufficient engagement
of the faculties, while sweet, compassionate nature is ministering cure
in every sprouting leaf and scented blossom, and beckoning sleep to draw
nigh, and be ready to follow up her benignant work. Walking is good,
not stepping from shop to shop, or from neighbour to neighbour, but
stretching out far into the country, to the freshest fields, and the
highest ridges, and the quietest lanes. However sullen the imagination
may have been among its griefs at home, here it cheers up and smiles.
However listless the limbs may have been when sustaining a too heavy
heart, here they are braced, and the lagging gait becomes buoyant again.
However perverse the memory may have been in presenting all that was
agonizing, and insisting only on what cannot be retrieved, here it is
first disregarded, and then it sleeps; and the sleep of the memory is
the day in Paradise to the unhappy. The mere breathing of the cool wind
on the face in the commonest highway is rest and comfort which must be
felt at such times to be believed. It is disbelieved in the shortest
intervals between the seasons of enjoyment; and every time the sufferer
has resolution to go forth to meet it, it penetrates to the very heart in
glad surprise. The fields are better still: for there is the lark to fill
up the hours with mirthful music; or, at worst, the robin and the flocks
of fieldfares, to show that the hardest day has its life and hilarity.
But the calmest region is the upland, where human life is spread out
beneath the bodily eye, where the mind roves from the peasant’s nest
to the spiry town, from the schoolhouse to the churchyard, from the
diminished team in the patch of fallow, or the fisherman’s boat in the
cove, to the viaduct that spans the valley, or the fleet that glides
ghostlike on the horizon. This is the perch where the spirit plumes its
ruffled and drooping wings, and makes ready to let itself down any wind
that heaven may send.--_From Deerbrook, a Tale, by Harriet Martineau._
* * * * *
CHILDHOOD.--Childhood is like a mirror, catching and reflecting images
from all around it. Remember that an impious or profane thought, uttered
by a parent’s lips, may operate on the young heart like a careless spray
of water thrown upon polished steel, staining it with rust which no after
scouring can efface.
* * * * *
Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at
the Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane,
College Green, Dublin.--Agents:--R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley,
Paternoster Row, London; SIMMS and DINHAM, Exchange Street,
Manchester; C. DAVIES, North John Street, Liverpool; J. DRAKE,
Birmingham; SLOCOMBE & SIMMS, Leeds; FRAZER and CRAWFORD,
George Street, Edinburgh; and DAVID ROBERTSON, Trongate,
Glasgow.