The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1836-1851, April 16, 1850, Image 1
Cljc Camden Journal.
VOLUME 11. CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAKOLINArAPRILl6, 1&50. NUMBER 30.
{tactical department.
? -?
From Richard*' Weekly Gazette.
CHANT OF LONELINESS.
Ah ! hours, how sad and slowly
Ye move, when from the breast,
The first fresh glow of feeling
Is gone, that brought
Its wing to thought,
While rapture did the reet
All! Hopes, why mock ye ever,
Sad spectres of the past.
That, on the dark horizon,
Still linger lone,
When all is got.c,
* At
Of gleams mat once ye can:
Why conjure Memory ever,
Though well ye know, in vain
Might pray'r recall the vision,
That known too late,
'Tis not in fate
To wake or warm again!
Sweet swallow, wanton soaring,
Oh! for a wing like yours?
Not seeking hopes departed,
Nor one delight,
But only flight
From memory-haunted shore*.
Give me the swallow's winglet,
with nf liclit.
X iJUl) m?u uiv wpi V. ..Q...,
My form might fly to regions,
Which still, in dreams,
Of joyous gleams,
Bring blessings to my eight
Oli! thither, at the shutting
Of bowery eyes at eve.
How blest, to wander freely,
And lose the care,
That ever here,
The weary souf must grieve!
No bird that skims the mountain,
No fish that darts the lake,
Would speed more gaily forward,?
First taught to sweep
Through air or deep,
Its prey or joy to take. *
i
For, ah! how dull is morning,
How dark the day, the night,
How silent all in sweetness,
To spell the heart,
With tuneful art,
Or wing the thought for flight!
Savannah, Geo. LEON.
IK Selected Calc.
From Richard's Weekly Gazette.
THE COLONEL'S STORY.
BY L4CY, OF KENTUCKY.
" Talking about pigs," said Col. Overton,
bitching his chair up to the fire, and ejecting a
* cloud of tobacco smoke from his mouth, as lie
tossed the stump of his Havana into the embers
?"talking about pigs, reminds me of an adventure
of urine: and, Master Lacy, if you will
take your arm from around that bowl of applennrl
n?s tho eimA in this direction, to
fcVUUJ J ?H*? v? ?
gether with an empty tumbler, I will tell you
the story."
I complied with his request, and the Colonel
began as follows:
" Once I had occasion to go from Hopkinsville,
Kentucky, to Natchez?it has been many
years since?and to go alone and on horseback.
I had to travel what was known as the "Wilderness
Road"?a name which, years ago, was
.sufficient of itself to give one the terrors?conTiected,
as it was, with tragedies tha most "? 'glitful
imaginable?tales of horror, which would
harrow up your very soul.
" Hopkinsville, in those days, was about as
much like what it is now is, as a negro cabin is
like Dr. Montgomery's splendid brick mansion.
The old 'Buzzard Roost' was the only tavern in
the country, and was accounted the finest house
in the burg. If old Tom Patton were to come
out of his grave, and be set down on Nashville
st., he would think that he was in New Orleans,
and not Elizabethtown, as they called it in those
days. Our magnificent Asylum, and Scpiire
Dillard's villa, would scare him out of his wits.
But instead of vast tobacco plantations and
liailUSUIUC UUUIlujrMniuocjs, wic it iiuiv vvuiivi t
' was then a great prairie. From Ford's Ferry
on the Ohio river, to Natchez, the whole route
was infested with fierce and daring highwaymen
andcut-throats men such as 'Big' and'Little
Harpe," possessed of all the audaeious skill
and daring of Claude Duval and Dick Turpin
with none of the gallantry and generosity ol
spirit which legendary stories ascribe to those
hero-highwaymen of the olden time. These
were stern, iron-hearted, relentless men. Pity
and compassion were sentiments without a
{rerm in their breasts; remorse was unknown to
' ~ fhe natural instincts of their
teSis-and they would blow' ?ut tfie ,>rmns
nJan ,unwary (traveler from an ambush, with
about as much compunction of conscience
a backwoodsman would experience in bringing
s_1Li ...at. Ii!a ?iflo 'ITipre was. il
IOOW1I a squin L'i n^Hi ...? ,
have said, a connected chain of them from th(
jC)hio river to Natchez. A ma. vho had car
ried a Bgtlilla of flatboats to Now Orleans, w a:
returning overjand, by the V.'iMerness Road
as they had to (Jo jn those day-', when steam
boats wore qniinpwn, and stopped at Ford'
Ferry Tavern, to Pjay all night-?intending ti
cross the river In the morning. No trace o
him, his horse, or any thing belonging to him
were ever found aftorwardr, from the time h
entered the tavern, the cJijc of his movement
ceased. He was seen to stop at the tavern by
some one going the other way. Ford declared
he had ferrfrd him across the river, and he had
gone on his route, he knew not where. Yes,
he had ferried him across the rive Styx, nnd
charged him a heavy toll. His notorious bad
character, however, caused a suspicion, amounting
almost to certainty, to be created against :
him by the scattered settlers around, and lie !
was arrested. But it was known that Ford !
could produce witnesses, who would swear to
anything he wished. He had often escaped
from a just punishment, by that means, before.
As they were conducting him to jail, he was
shot through the head, by some foe whom he
had wronged. It was in the dusk of evening,
and amidst a crowd, and it could not be discov
ercd who had perpetrated the cieeu 01 revenge <
or retributive justice, though, I suppose, not
much inquiry was made.
Many stones such as this?many much more
dark and bloody than this, formed, in those days
and for many years after, the subject of the
evening fireside conversation of the South Kentuckians.
I had heard them from my youth
upwards. I was then about twenty years old.
I had been down to Natchez on business, and
was returning, with my saddle-bags full-of gold
and silver. 1 'camped out' at night?that is, I
tethered my horee, and mounted into a tree
where I roosted among the limbs like a eata
1 ;i
mount?ior in many piaces ii,n ui> umic man ?
day's journey from one house to another, and
even when they were to be found, the woods
were generally the most hospitable, and by far
the safest resting place. So 1 bought provision
for myself and horse during the day; and lodged
in the trees by night not daring to kindle a
fire, though it was in the winter, for tear of attracting
attention to my 'camp.' Hy wrapping
up in my buffalo robe and blanket overcoat, 1
managed, however, to keep warm.
" One night, as I was drawing near to the
lower edge of Tennessee?it was raining and
sleeting like the very old Nick, and bitter cold,
and I was tired, hungry, and half frozen?1
i I ? J...1 i.. i??.,k
came to a cuunoruiuic touting, uuuun?n'g v.n?in,
every crack and crevice of which, as well as
the windows, were blazing with light; and a
savory odor of fried venison fell on my nostrils,
creating a more exquisite titilation than ever
did an orange flower to a dark-eyed Southern
maid. 1 looked around?the night was pitchy
dark, the cold wind was howling through the
trees, and the stinging hail pelting against my
chattering jaws. 1 could not resist the temptation.
"'Hello!'
" 'Hello, verself,' cried a swarthy, sallowvisaged,
sandy-haired fellow, in yellow jeans
trowsers, cowhide boots and cotton shirt, coming
to the door.
" 'Can a man find lodging with you for the
night ?'
" 'I reckon so,' he replied, in a rather goodhumored
tone, which somewhat re-assured mo
?for I had beau not without misgivings that 1
was purchasing a lire and bed at the expense of
my throat. I dismounted, saw my horse disposed
of, and entered the cabin. My heart began
to misgive me, when I saw what a company
I had got into. There were three men, besides
the one who had accompanied me to the
stable, a youth of nineteen, and an old woman,
all sitting around a blazing tire, in a chimney
built of unhewn stone, which took up nearly the
whole side of the house. On the hearth, which
was of baked dirt, of proportionate size, was a
gridiron, and on it the venison-steak which had
assailed my nostrils with its grateful flavor.?
They were the most villainous-looking set I had
ever seen, and 1 thought if 1 had sought for a
nest of bandits, I could not have been more successful
in finding one. One fellow, in particular,
who eyed me curiously as 1 entered, I
thought, bad 'gallows-bird' written all over him.
He was dressed much as the one who came to
flw? ilnnr?u'lin lir thn \i'nv Itnrf thi> iil(?:isnnt
est countenance of them all?with the addition
of a very ill-treated beaver, that had never been
acquainted with Beel>e A: Costar, when it was
new. He had a low, sunken forehead, with his
coarse, straight, red hair covering it almost entirely,
and a biistly beard, about an inch long,
of the same color, covered his face completely,
except his nose and a little spot under each eye.
'* The room had no ceiling but the loose plank
floor of the garret, and a couple of long, wooden-stocked
rifles in the corner, a rusty musket
over the tire-place, a wooden cupboard and trble,
a rude bed with a dirty path-quilt, and a
few chairs of home manufacture, constituted
the furniture of the room.
"Stranger, you'll have to nut un with roiiL'h
V ? i I O
fur* 'niong us backwoods folks,' sag1, ail old
man, in a coarse blue banket coat, who was
sitting in the chimney corner, and seemed to be
the
I "Thy idea of a comfortable log-fire, venison
, steak, fried eggs, and ash-cakes and buttermilk,
f being rough fare to a man who had been roost>
ing in the trees, made mo smile, as I replied?
"' That's the sort 1 have been used to.'
Which way arc you traveling, if I mought
i ask ?'
"' I am going to Kentucky.'
??< i...I v
A (Will IIHU? \
: "I nodded.
, "'Ah, y ou tote a decent par' of shoot in' irons,
t obsprvpdthe red-haired brigand, as I threw oil
r my wet overcoat, and displayed a couple ol
i horseman's pistols in my belt. His eyes shone
; as he spoke,
"'Yes,'said I, fixing my eye on his;'they
s are very pleasant and useful companions for a
I, traveler. I got the full set,' I added, drawing
. a finely-cased bowie knife from my breast, and
g handing it to him.
o "'Shear'a beauty,' said he, drawing his
if horny thumb along the keen and polished blade
i, which shone in the red glare of the fire-light, a.?
e he bent forward to examine its temper mort
a closely?his sharp gray eye sparkling witl
pleasure as he observed its admirable workmanship.
"' Stranger, I'll give you the best horse in
iMassessippi for her. Don't find them sort often
in these diggins.' I tell you, Bill's razor uint
nothiii' to it. What d'ye say to a swap ?'
"And he gnzed at it with the air of a connoisseur,
as he passed it to the next.
"Could n't trade, I recon,' said I, replacing
it in itssilversheath, after it had gone the rounds.
I could not afford to part with it.
'You are mighty right hoss,' said the old man
in the comer, pulling out a whiff of smoke; 'I
would n't ef I was you. She's the clean grit
certain; she'd go through bone and all.'
"Yes, would she,' said the rod-haired, laughing
gleefully at the idea. 'I could shave a man's
head oil'with that ar,' before hell could scorch
a feather. He would n't know what hurt him.'
,./i * i _ 11 ir i
"I. nine siranger, supper s roauy. 1 in nam
that we can't give you as good a breakiast,
though, for the last slice of meat about the
house is on the table.'
We sat down to the table together, the men
without donning their coats, and the red-haired
without doffing his hat. After supper, of which
I partook most voraciously, a bottle of whiskey
was set out The men appeared to me usually
: friendly and hospitable, and laughed and talked
in their rough way very jovially; but I could
not help suspecting that my well appointed
weapons had more influence iti making them
so good-humored, than even the whiskey, of
which, 1 must contess, however, that they partook
very moderately.
"There was a cock-loft above, which was
accessible only by a ladder and trapdoor, which
was to be my sleeping apartment
"Your saddle-bags are mons'ous heavy,' observed
the red-haired man, picking them up, as
I started to bed, and weighing them in his hand.
"Yes/ said I, taking them myself,'I got a
good supply of powder and lead for myself,
when I was below.'
"I 'spec:' so,, lie replied, and, as I fancied, in
' a sinister tone, though his words might have
! meant nothing.
| "The attention of the whole company was
j drawn to my saddle-bags, and I imagined I saw
J them exchange looks in a significant manner,
which redoubled my uneasincs, as I thought
that they suspected them to be lull of gold.
"After I had retired to bed, I moved the bedstead
as noiselessly as possible, with one foot of
it on the trap-door, so that they could not take
me by surprise. I endeavored to lay awake, to
listen to what was going on below, which 1
could readily do through the cracks in the floor,
but, in spite of all tny efforts, I was overcome
with drowsiness and fatigue, and in a few niin
utes fell asleep.
"When I awoke day was just breaking. I
was startled by hearing a' gruff voice below,
saying- "I
say, Bill, it's time we were killin' that feller
we were talkin' 'bout last night, aint it V
"I could recognize, in this speaker, the redhaired
brigand. 'God! they intend to murder
me after all,' said I to myself, as I get out my
pistols from under toy pillow.
"I reckon so,' said the other. 'We'll have to
kill him some time, and now will do as well as
any.'
"He's in mighty good order, in my opinion.'
"lie's as fut as the very devil!'
"How shall we kill him ?'
"Shoot him.'
"No. I s'pose we'd better knock him in the
head with an axe. Thar is no use wastin' pow
(lor and shot on him, scacc as they is raese nara
times,' said Red Heard.
What cold-blooded scoundrels! Hut I'll
make tlicm waste powder and shot yet, if they
don't take care. I heard them getting up and
dressing, and more talking between them, which
their moving about prevented rny catching the
sentences of though killing seemed to be the
theme. Soon they came to the foot of the
ladder, and one said to the other?
"'(Jo np, Hill, while I go and make a fire.
Don't make a noise, for fear of wakin' him up.'
" I could hear him mounting the ladder, to
- i - ? -:n?:..? a...
perpetuate me uoeu ?m vm.uuv. i mmug ure
door fast, he said to the other?
"'lie's {jot the door sliet.'
" You'll have to wake him up, then.'
"' Hello, stranger. I say, mister, hello thar!'
What do yon want there?' I asked, cocking
a pistol.
'"1 want to {jet that mash-tub out o' thar.
We're gota In kill a pig for tjotirbrrrthfast!
" Murder will out! thought 1, bursting into a
laugh, as I saw through, through the ludicrous
mistake I had made. I wiped the sweat from
my brow, for it had stood there in drops, and
et him in, saying, as I did so?
Well, it's well I fastened that door.'
"' Why so ?'
" ' Why, I should have blown you to the devil
as soon as you poked your head above it.'
The devil you say! What for V
" I related to him what part of their conversation
1 had overheard, and how I had misconstrued
it. Me laughed heartily, as iliil the rest
when he told them. But I was n't murdered
1 ' * " . . .itol limnlifimt nf tlio
that time. J m;im- .1 1,
faI pig, for which and my lodgings, they would
not let me pay a cent, although I urged it almost
to ofieiiding; ami after taking a swig of
. 'red eve* all around, I went on my way rojoic,
ing. Hut even now, 1 can never think of that
pig-scrape without a laugh."
The Catholic llishop of Havana has recently
visited Matanzas, the first visit of the kind
| made there for thirty years. During his stay,
I the IJishop administered the rite of confirmation
to sixteen or eighteen thousand persons, an entire
generation having grown up without re
J ceiving that rite.
1 Never tread on the tail of a cat, or tell a wo
5 man she is not handsome, unless you arc fond r>
1 mmcc.
Ch Sermon.
Rectitude of the Divine Administration.
A DISCOURSE
SUGGEST!D BY THE DEATH OF JOHN C.CALHOUN.
Delive- ed in the Methodist Church af Columbia,
South Carolina, on Sunday, April 7,1850.
BY THE REV. WHITEFOORD SMITH, D. D.
"Shall not the Judge of ali the earth do right?"
[Genesi8 xviii. 25.
The interrogation of the text, my Christian brethren,
implies two great truths. The first, that
there is a God, whose superintending providence
is over all his works. The second, that it is impossible
lor Him to do wrong. Nor let it be supposed
that these are abstract truths, which have
12 a * A1 ?: 1 .JL! ^4' IUL .
UU cl j'JHJUu IIUI) IU U1U pidUULttl dlldir&Ul UCLIIJ 111U ,
for, in the perpetual vicissitude of human fortune,
in the innuinerable trials and afflictions incident to
mortal life, what support can be found for the heirs
of sorrow like that which is furnished by the consideration
that a just and gracious God presides
over the universe, directing and controlling all its
events for purposes of infinite wisdom and goodness?
And, especially, when the dispensations of
His providence are inscrutable and mysterious;
when all the powers of reason are inadequate to
comprehend his designs; what other refuge is
there for the mind and heart, but an humble and
faithful reliance on the essential attributes of God?
Thus, when the cities of the plain were doomed
to destruction, and it pleased the Almighty to reveal
to his servant Abraham their approaching
overthrow, and when the patriarch became the
intercessor, and would plead their cause, the
strong argument with which he emboldened himself
before his Maker, was the language of the
text, "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?"
And when the Judgment was executed, and Abraham
looked, "and lo! the smoke of the country
went up as the smoke of a furnace," though he
might mourn over their ruin, yet, doubtless, hie
heart was sustained by its faith in the rectitude of
the Divine Administration. So, too, when the tidings
of disaster upon disaster came to Job, until
ttip infpllifpnpp nf his afflictions scpmpd Inn much
o ? ?
for nature to sustain, "he fell down upon the
ground and worshipped," saying, "Naked came I
out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return
thither; the l.<ord gave, and the Lord hath taken
away; blessed be the name of the Lord."
How much more accordant with the dignity of
man and the teachings of a pure philosophy, is
sucli a submission to the behests of Heaven, than
the frantic ravings of an Atheist, who would fain
deny the existence of the hand beneath whose blowhe
falls!
In the history of nations, as well as in the experience
of individuals, there are constantly occurring
occasions for the exercise of these salutary reflections.
For national calamities as well as for
private griefs, there is the same Heavenly solace
[ "the Lord hath prepared his throne in the Heavens,
and his kingdom ruleth over all."
You will readily perceive the appropriateness
of these thouehts to our present circumstances.
But the last Sabbath, the 'pleasant chime of the
church-going bells was suddenly changed into the
slow and solemn toll?the death-knell of the departed.
With electric rapidity were the tidings
spread, that one of the most illustrious of our
country's Senators was numbered with the dead.
That he who, but a few days before, with the promise
ofreturning strength, had lilted up his voice
in the Capitol in defence of the dearest interests of
his State, was now no more. The loss of this distinguished
Statesman is recognised as a national
affliction. His name had long been inscribed upon
his country's brightest page, enrolled among her
honored sons. But to the State which gave him
birth, and to which he ever acknowledged hislirst
allegiance due, his loss is no ordinary bereaver
incut. When a good and virtuous man dies,
whose generous acts have endeared him to the
community in which he lived, friends and neighbors
gather around_his bier, and many a tear of
sympathy is shod. Hut there is a deeper sorrow
felt by those who knew him as husband, father,
brother. Theirs is a grief which strangers cannot
know; and the habitation which his presence invested
with joy is tilled with " inodrning and lamentation
and woe." Such is the affliction of
South Carolina at the death of the late Hon. John
C. Calhoun.
Your attention might be occupied with the recital
of his illustrious acts?with a history of his
high career. The virtues which adorned his character;
the profound philosophy which displayed
itself in all he said; the utter lorgetfulness of self
in his devotion to the interests of his State and
country might well form the theme of a long discourse.
But these appropriately belong to another
occasion. They will be written upon the pages
of history?they will be engraven upon the hearts
of posterity.
You will allow me to turn your attention now
to those sacred lessons which most befit the day,
and which this mournful event is well calculated
to impress on every breast.
lfth? first lesson we should learn from this at
diction iHi drawn directly from the text, it will tc
an acknowledgment of the justice ofGod, and submission
to his will. Revealed religion affords the
only rational view of the divine nature. While it
proclaims the supremacy of God, it exhibits all his
attributes in perfect harmony. His benevolence
is not lost amid the splendors of his aulick reign;
nor his justice forgotten in the exercise ofa?, infinite
compassion. His eternal wisdom di.vects his
almighty power; and though "his judgments are
unsearchable, and his ways past finding out," they
are still consistent with his essential goodness.?
Though " clouds and darkness are round about
him, yet righteousness and judgment are the habitation
of his throne." Unfortunately for us, it is
but too characteristic of our fallen nature to murmur
at the dispensations of an all-wise Providence,
because we cannot comprehend its purposes; and
lootismy tojuuge me acts f i neaven rainer man
piously tosuhinit to its will. We forget that our
frailty should tcacli us our dependence, ai:d that
our ignorance should prompt us to faith. When
the dearest hopes we have cherished are blighted
in an hour, and the props upon which we have
leaned are suddenly removed, instead of turning
our eyes upward and exhorting our hearts to trust
in Cod, we look only to the desolations around us,
| and "sorrow even as others which have no hope."
We challenge the wisdom of the dispensation
| which we cannot understand, and often imviute
injustice to the moral Governor of the world. Forgetful
that our sins have deserved chastisement,
' we are resistful under the stroke of his hand.?
Forgetful of the mercy that gave, we think only
of the judgment which has taken away. Our grat
itude tor the benefaction we have long enjoyed is
f Inst in our grief for its removal: ?pid our thoughts
of God are frequently as ungratefu| as they are
unjust. Such, my brethren, is the gloom which
surrounds us when we cast aside the word ,of inspired
truth, and depend upon the uncertain teachings
of darkened reason?when we forget
??" Tha divinity that stir* within u?;
" that points out an hereafter,
"And intimates eternity to man
and look only to the brief and little interests that
attach to our present state. The brightest illustrations
of a fortitude that endurps without cooa- .
plaint, of a heroism that triumphs over all obstruction,
investing humanity with a dignity mare than
earthly, have bten found in those whose faith had
based itself upon the word of God, and whose
gaze was fixed, not upon the fading glories of this
world, but upon that exalted and enduring scene,.
" Where Seraph* gather immortality from life'* fair tree. **
The eye of sense can discover in many a dispensation
of Providence naught but "shadows, cloud*,
and darknessbut the eye of feith, piercing
through the gloom, discerns far beyond the allguiding
hand, and relies for safety and for succor
upon him who dwells in the ineffable brightness.?
What though the dispensation be shrouded in
mysterious darkness? What though the infinite
designs exceed our highest thought?"Shall mortal
man be more just than God ?" Shall we charge
the Almighty with injustice, because he hath not
made us his counsellors? There will come a day
when God will vindicate his own administration
?when the results of his present operations shall
have developed themselves?when the mind, in
its nobler state, shall be freed from the shackles of
ignorance and prejudice and error which encircle
it here?when truth will assert her high prerogative?when
the light of eternity shall shine upon
all his works?a d ihen shall every heart acknowledge
his justice, hs wisdom, and his goodness.?
wjentie sent ual shall have sunk into its own
corruption, and the spiritual shall have ascended
to its own immortality, then shall the Just One receive
universal homage, and the righteousness of
God shall be the splendor of his throne.
If we consider the relation in which we stand
to our great Cretator, it will be the dictate of
reason as it is the doctrine of revelation, that
we should yield implicit submission to his will;
If there is any good use to which adversity may
be made subservient, it is the part of wisdom tofind
it out A repining fretfulness over misfortune
never lightened the burden nor brought
comfort to the complaining spirit; but an humbio
and pious acknowledgment of the will of
Uod, and a meek submission to his chastening*,.,
have often brought tranquility to the troubled 1
heart, and lighted with the ray of celestial hope
the otherwise impenetrable gloom.
It is permitted the Christian to regard, every
afflictive dispensation either as part of the dis-.
cipline by which he is fitted for Heaven, or as.
a visitation of mercy sent him in disguise.. *?be
restraints which are exercised over human pas-,
sion may be painful; nevertheless they are-ne-.
cessary and good. The heavens may he eJoAhr-,
ed with blackness, yet they teem with fertilizing
rains. The thunder-storm mav be terrific ta
v t # _
the eye, yet it may purify the noxious air. In
the whole economy of nature has God instituted
such analogies, that we may learn to trust
him in the darkest hours, and under the severest
trials of our faith. Deprived of such a eomfort
as this trust in God inspires, many a grief wefe
too intolerable to be borne?
"A night, that glooms us in the noon-tide ray.
And wraps our thought, at banquets, in the shroud."
Another important lesson which the late
mournful event is well calculated to teach us,
is the f ailty and vanity of man. Death ought
to be at all times impressive; but when he has
selected "a shining mark," and his victim is taken
from among the luminaries of a land?when
the eye of genius is dimmed, and the voice of
lift ulnntinnf nrolA* io
Uiv ?.1VVJUVII? uittWi AO HUCUCVI 111 CVClldSUIl^ Dllonce,
and the isdom of the prudent counsellor
has perished? then with what force camo
the words of inspiration?" Let not the wise
man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty
man glory in his might, let not the rich matii
glory in his riches."
However melancholy it may bo to witness
the instability of all human good, the impoteney
of man to resist the progress of decay and.
the power of death?to behold the bright intel-leetual
light extinguished in the darkness of thegrave,
and the overthrow of high hope, and noble
aspirations; it is well that we should pauseand
linger upon the painful subject, for thoughr
the countenance* may be madesad,yet the heart
may be made better. " The busv scenes in
........ ???? * ? -* ?
?i.n,n ??v n?v: uuiurauy rases up oar inongnw
and attention, and it is with difficulty that they
are called off to the contemplation of truths that
are speculative, and which we consider as stand'
ing at a distance from us. The senses, imagv
nation, r.od passions are perpetually crowding
the mijid with objects of their own, and amidst
the noise and tumult of these, the still voice of
reason is not easily heard." But when a great
calamity has overtaken us, when we stand in
the presence of death, and learn that no human
skill could avert the blow, no human love prd=
IM1PP nvnn ft nnchinnnmonf aI* #U/\ ll%;4
w%.. v ?, M |.vwv|/viivuaviu vi 11IW UUUIllj UIQ
united voice of reason and inspiration loudly
cry,"tl is is the end of all?let the livr.g lay it
to his heart." llow powerful a corrective '?
this to the natural pride of man. If in the hour
of prosperity he forgets that he is mortal, and
imagines that his mountain stands strong, let
him consider the day of adversity which shall
surely come; for HGod hath set the one over
against the other." Let him not look alone at
the grandeur of his present state, and be unmindful
of the destiny which awaits him; but
rather h.c him set his house in order, for he shall
I (no aiwi not live. "For he sceth that wise men
j diot likewise the fool and the brutish person
I perish, and leave their wealth to others,"
"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, and that wealth e'er gavo
Await alike th1 inevitable hour,
The path of glory lead?but to the grave."
With how strong an appeal do such reflrc,
tions come to us to-day. But the other d? y
and he whom we now mourn occupied ^
I among the great men of'<*r *"'it[on a'nd oftho
world. Hiswa, ruooar- n';nind_hUnoor_
v " wotrv honorrd him,