Southport telegraph. [volume] (Southport, W.T. [i.e. Kenosha, Wis.]) 1840-1850, 1842-12-27
S L r EE T SKETCHES.
From the New York Aurora.

We recollect remark of John Neal.
about subjects. An editorial friend of the
tlery Yankee had complained that he had
no subject to write upon: :" Go out into the
street," replied John, "open your eyes,
and you will not be long in want Of sub
ject." He was right
Look now TO the left, against that mar
be building-there is group of boys play
ing marbles on the corner There's a sub
ject for you. Look at that little rosy
checked fellow in the green tunic-see with
what naughty grace he pumps his MAJ BILE
smack against the taw. There is a future
Alexander. He wins and loses with the
same proud Indifference as the grea: war;
rlor gambled for thrones and empires He
cares nothing for the game-it is no sport
for him-but he merely mingles in it for
want of nsore congenial employment.-
You can see beautiful disdan curling his
upper lip.
But see that sharp grey eye and eager
little lace peering over the players should
CIR. He has 81 stake in the empire -
He's not to be cheated-not he! In few
years he will become a rich merchant
will smuggle goods through the custom
house-tax compound interest and cent per
cent. If he fails in business, it will be with
his pockets well lined
See that soft, passionate face, surrounded
with black curly locks, and lit up by an
eye which seems to have arrested the sun
beam IN It's progress He looks at the mar
blcs but he sees them not. He is travelling
IN some fairy world, and his little heart is
| swelling and throbbing with some fanced
emotion. lie will be poet, unless, for
sooth, some kind and considered guardian
shall crush his bright aspirations ere they
have rlpcncd, and leave the temple of his
hopes dcsolatc and filled with the ashes of its
stricken gods, to imbi,lcr all his future life.
There is bright, fair haired girl, who
who comes romping and laughing, like
roses which blush with light at their own
happiness. She puts her arms gracefully
about the poets neck, and kisses his soft
cheek. How the blood rushcs like fire to
his temples! you can almost see his heart
! beating with It's strange and wild emotions
as ii II would burst his vesmcn. All! bow,
boy! a bright bat bitter destiny is thine
| How often will thy heart buoyed up by
It's native etherIslty, mount till the mystic
ries and beauties Of the ideal bloom and
| blaze around thee-when. arrested by some
! petty but grasping and tenacious fiend of
want, or care, or earthly hate, all the bright
visions in an instant will fade away, and
| leave thee again desolate and brokenhearted!
tow often will low cunning, clad in gorge
Gus apparel, and surleted with luxury, roll
swiftly past thee in gldcd charots, on the
road of life, and leave thee to crawl onward
with thy world of ideal and Improbable
wealth, weary, starving and forsak II
Young poet pause! Tear off thy wings,
shut up the bubbling fountains Of thy soul,
and mix in the general race for wealth and
power. ''put money in thy purse"
Thus much for a game of marbles. But
we a:c at the market. Here's scene wor-
thy of the p n of Boz or pencil of Cruik-
shank. Look at that fat old gentleman
| smelling OF the butter, and turning over the
vegetables at every stall. Altogether likely
he knows no more about good or bad but
ter, than he does about the dcflercntial cal
culus, or the nearest entrance to Svmmes' s
! Hole; and he would find it extremely diff
ticult to distinguish between the cabbage
and Il caulinower. But no matter, he must
show his Importance. He'll get tucked off
with lump of rancid butter and a mess Of
| green squashes by some shrewd Yankee
huclstcr-mark our words. There, he has
at last made purchase. AS we live it is
an old gander; poor man, he thinks he will
have a roast turkey for his dinner.
Here is a newly-marricd pair--the hus-
band dantily carrying a little wicker-ba
ket on one arm and his wife on the other,
as if he was a little inclined to be ashamed
of both. He's as proud as Lucter, in his
heart--thc happy dog "Shal we take
this nice bit of tender loin my dear!'-
''Just as you please my love; you know
you are the best Judge. And my dear let
me recommend this tender veal cutlet."-
God speed ye, young voyagcrs But few
years will elapse ere your tender siroin
will become nothing but tough, crooked
rb-piece.
There's a loafer. He hasn't eaten a
meal this three days. See how he gloats
over that quarter of beat He could de-
YOUR 1t raw; and his hands are convulsively
clenched as if he were already tearing it
in pieces. He could have plenty to eat
and drink if he would only 60 into the coun-
try few miles, and go to work on farm.
But no-he can't think of working. Heis
gentleman, although he has got no shirt
and his garments scarcely serve to cover
his limbs from the chill wind. He is sha-
king with the cold and ague, produced by
drinking some internal mixture which he
has sponged at a low GROCERY. He will
be put IN the watch-house tonight, and to-
morrow sent to the pententary, or the hos
pital, to be fed at the public expense.
This is prolific subject, and grows be-
meath our eye. We may renew our ram
bles here at another time.
Among the rude and uncultivated, much