Boon's Lick times. [volume] (Fayette, Mo.) 1840-1848, 1843-03-11
From Godey's Lady's Book for Feb.
BACHELOR BOB'S DISCOVERIES.

"sad were the lays Of merry days,
And sweet the songs of sadness"

" SAD were the laws OF merry days,
And sweet the songs OF Sadness"
"ComeI said bachelor Bob, as he hitch
ed his chair closer to the table, "quite alone,
half-past twelve, and TWO tumblers of toddy
for heart-openers, what say you 10 little
friendly inqulsition into your mortal feIici-
tyr You were the gayest man Of my ac-
quaintance ten years ago; you are the gra-
vest nowl Yet YOU swear by your Lares
and Penates, that, (up to the lips as you are
in care and trOuble,) you never were so hap
ply as in these latter days. Do YOU swear
this to inc from way YOU have of hang
ing out trap for the world, or are you un-
der little innocent delusionw
Bob's hobby is the theory Of happiness.
Riches and poverty, matrimony and celiba.
cy, youth and age, are objects OF Con.em-
plation to Bob, solely with reference to
their comparative capacity for bliss. He
speculates and talks about little else, indeed,
and his intercourse with his friends seems
TO have no other end or aim than 20 collect
evidence as to their happiness and its eau
SEES. On this occasion he was addressing Il
friend OF mine, Smith, who had been gay
man in his youth, IA merry man, truth to
say, for he was in perpetual breeze OF high
SPIRITS but who had married, and fallen be.
hind-hand IN his worldly affairs, and so
grown care-worn and thoughtful. Smith
was rather poet, in quiet way, though
he only used poetry as a sort of longer
plummet when his heart got off soundings.
/ am indebted to Bob for the specimens of
his verse-makIng which am about to give,
~ xuoIl NO tho ,xbi 81,
brought them to light.
Why" said Smith, "you have stated a
dilemma with two inevitable horns, that ar.
gument would scarcely help me out of it.
Let me see, what proof can | give you that
am a happier man than used to be, spite
of my chapfallen visage'"
| Smith unused a moment, and reaching over
TO desk near his elbow, drew from its pri-
vate drawer, book with locked covers. 1t
was well-fled manuscript volume, and
seemed collection of prose and verse in.
termixed. The last page was still! covered
with bio,tlng paper, and seemed recently
written.
D." am no poet," said Smith, colorne
slightly, " but it has been habit of mine
ever since my callow days, 10 record il
verse all feelings that were too warm fol
prose; sometimes in the fashion OF soillo
guy, (scripta rer6aJ sometimes in verses tc
the dame OF damse to whom | was indebt
ed for my ignition Let me see, Bob! We
met in Florence, think7'
''For the first time abroad, yes!n
swell, perhaps that was the gayest time
certainly do not remember to have beer
any where more gay or reckless ference
1882, um-here are some lines written tina
summer do you remember the beautiful
Irish widow you saw at one of the cdSin,
balls? addressed to her, fiirt that she was
But she began all her flirtatlons with talking
of her sorrows, and if she tried you on, a
all"
O. She didn't" interrupted Bob,
well, if she had, you would have beer
humbugged with her tender melancholy, a
| was. Here are the verses, and if ever
'turned out my lining to the MOON, they
are tue tie my inner soul in those days o
frolic. Read these, and then turn to tn,
last page and you will find as true daguer
reotype of the inner light Of my moping
days, written only yesterday
IT'S late--Sam Mare is beating three
As look forth upon the night;
The stars shining tranquility,
And heaven is full Of silver lights
The air blows freshly on my brow
Yet why should be waking now.
I've listened, lady, to tiny tone,
Till in my ear it will not die;
pye felt for sorTows my own,
Till now cannot put them by;
And those sad words and thoughts of thins
Have breathed their sadness into mine.
'Tis long-though Teckoned not by years
Since, with affections chilled and shocked,
dried boy's imprisoned tears,
And from the world NY feelings locked
The work Of bat one bitter day,
Il In which were crowded years Of pain;
And then | was as gay, again,
Il And thought that should be, for aye!
The world lay open wide and bright,
And became its lightest minon,
And few the worldling's giddy hight
With reckless and impetuous pnion-
Liie's tide, with me. had turned from shore
Ere yet my summers told a score.
And years have passed, and | have seemed
Happy 10 every eve but thine,
And they whom most loved have deemed
There was no lighter heart than mine;
And, save when some wild passIon-tone
Of music reached the sleeping nerve,
Or when, in illness and alone,