The Columbia Democrat. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1837-1850, 1839-12-21
BEAUTIFUL EXTRACT.


The creations ofthe sculptor may moul-
der into dust, the wealth of the bard may
throne of the conquerer may
be shivered, by an opposing power, into
aloms-the fame ofthe warrior may no lon-
ger be iymned by the recording minstrel
the hope Of youth may be disappointed
but that which hallows the cottage and
sheds glory around the palace-oirtue
shall never decay. II is celebrated by the
angels Of God-n is written on the pillars
of Heaven, and reflected down to earth.
The rock-cracker, possesses it, is more no.
bic than the intriguing statesman. would
rather be in his place, ] would rather have
the "inward glory" with which the poor
man 'is crowned than overshadow the
world with my martial banners | would
not exchange his lot for the reputation Of a
Raphael, the inspiration Of Byron, the elo-
quence of Mirabeau, or the intellect of
Bacon. may be desplscd here-but if |
possess it, then shall tower above them
all when the guilty shall tremble in their Sc
cret places, as the "heavens roll together as
SCROLL
sssrs-s-zssszxszEzs
Human LDe.--Elow truly does the jour
ney Of a single day, its changes and its
hours exhibi! the history humane life |!
We rise up in the glorious freshness of a
spring morning. The news ofnight, those
sweet fears of nature, are singing from
each bough and leaf, and reflecting the
bright and myriad hues OF the morning.
Our hearts are beating with hope, our frames
buovant with health. We see no cloud,
we fear no storm, and with our chosen and
beloved companions clustering around us,
we commence our journey. Step by step,
the scene becomes more lovely, hour by
hour ou hopes becomes brighter. A few
of our companions have dropped away, but
in the multitude remaining, and the beauty
Of the scenery, their loss is unielt' Sud
denly we have entered upon new country.
the dews of the morning are exhaled by the
fervor Of the MONDAY sun, friends that star
ted with us are disappearing. Some re-
main, but their looks are cold and estrang-
ed, others have become weary and have
laid down TO their rest, but few faces are
smiling on US, and new hopes beckoning
us on. Ambition and fame are before us,
but youth and affection are behind us. The
scene is more glorious and brilliant, but the
beauty and freshness of the morning have
faded, and forever. But still our steps fail
not, our spirit fails not. Onward and on.
ward we go, the horizon of happiness and
fame raceless as we advance 10 it, the sha-
dow begins TO lengthen, and the chilly airs
Of evening are usurping the feryer of the
noon day. Sill we press onward, the final
is not won, the heaven is not reached. The
bright orb of hope that has checred us on is
sink ing in the west, our limbs begin to
grow FAINT, our hearts 10 grow sad, we turn
to gaze upon the scenes that we have pass
ed, but the shadows of twilight have in
terposed their veil between us, we look a.
round for the old and familiar faces, the
companions of our travel, but we gaze in
vain to find them, we have outstrPped them
all in our race after pleasure and the phan-
thom yet uncaught, in the land Of strangers,
in sterile and inhospita country, the
night time overtakes us, the dark and terri
bic night time of death, and weary and hea'
Wy laden, we lie uown to rest in the bed oI
the grave Happy thrice happy is he, who
has laid up treasures in himself, for the
distant and unknown to morrow.-CharI
Ton.
Hza1sAH-sss9zEz-,9