The Sumter banner. [volume] (Sumterville, S.C.) 1846-1855, 1849-04-18
tHisrsl laEl,.
4 O0NS lTI(lNS 3, s. s.

MI father, our work is ,fatiguing TO.
day the spade rebouuds supon'the parcls
ed earth; tile sun darts rays of FIRE; the
dust raised BY the south wind blows in
whirlw wmdssoyer the plain.
My son, He who sends the burning
[gales sends also BED ewing cloudlets. -
10 each belon g Its: pain and its hope,
and after labor comes repose.
s. My father do you see these poor
plants, how they iangaish, and how
their,Yellowl leaves droop down their ex-
khausted stalk!
& They will rise up again, my son; no
blade of grass is Forgotten; ;fruitfulirains
and fresh dews are always. provided for
Iit amidst the celestial treasures.
i My father, the birds are silent in the
foliage; the quail, immoyable in the fur
row, does not even recalits companion;y
1.-THE hcifer seeks the shade; and5the OK,
with his limbs folded benea,h his heavy
bod ", his neck stretched out, dilates his
large nostrils. in order to respire tho dir
which lie isin need Of S;;..t,,.i g:,t
God, my son, will restore tho birds to
their Voices, and the oxen their strength
exhausted by the extreme heat. The
breeze which will reanimate them al
ready glides over thesseas r,ys3
Let us seat ourselves, my father, up
on the fern thatborders the pond, near
the old oak whose hanging branches SO
gently touch the surface Of the water.
How calm and transparent it is! How
gaily the fishes play there! Some pur-
sue their winged prey, poor gnats just
entered into being; others, raising their
heads, with their mouths half open, ap-
pear to be softly kissing the air.
He who has made oil things, my son,
has every where bestowed his inexhaus.
table gifts, life, and the Joy of life.-
Evil consists only in appearance, tis
the dark side Of love, the similitude Of
good, its shadow. ..,. 4.
And yet, my father, you suffer-
| What labour, what fatigue, you endure,
in order to provide for our wants!s. Are
you not poor? Is not my mother poor?
1t is the sweat of. your brow which has
given me food; have you ever for one
single day had the morrow provided
for! .EnSs NJ s5Sss8SS .asstss,s, .aa
WhatsigniGes, the morrow to us, my
son? The morrow belongs to God; let
US confide in Him. Whose rises in the
morning knows not whether he shall see
the evening. Why, then, trouble and
disquiet ones self about q time which
will perhaps never, arrive? We live
here below like the swallow, seeking
from day to day the bread of each day,
and like her, when the winter approach
es, o amysterious power draws us to mil
der climes. .,....-.,.--..--
What is this my father?f 8 Tt resem-
bles corpse wrapped in its shroud, or
an infant rolled in swaddling clothes.
My son, it was a crawling worm, it
will soon be living flower, an aerial
form, which,, decked in its brightest
colours, will rise towards heaven.
AUTnoRsHIp.-Mr. Macaulay's
"History" is out ofprint. Three thou.
sand copies-the number of the first
cdition-are already sold; and second
edition-it is said an Improved one-is
already in the press. The rumor runs
that the author has sold his two vol.
umes for ten years to the Mes srs. Long
man, for an annuity of 96OO for that
period. If poetry be down in market
value, history is, it seems. up. 'sThc
Eow' and Albermarle street would
now probably return paradise Lost"
without looking atit-so that Simmons
+ was, after all, liberal sum for an
epic poem, when we contrast 1S4S with
1907. Hume made very little by his
History" but Smollett made 6 . 900
IN very short ytime-and his work is
said to have sold to the then amazing
extent Of 10000 copies. It was time
that history should have turn.
Mr.. lIallam's historical works have,
1t is true, sold we'll; but Garter strug.
gled hopelessly against want-and Sir
Harris Nicolas, whose whole life was
dedicated unremittinglyto the illustra.
ton of English history, had Just passed
from amongst us in circumstances too
painful to describe. Our writers should
learn, however, (and there are exam.
pies enough already to have taught
them } that the mere heaping together
Of facts, the dry display, as It were, Of
antiquarian diligence, has but slender
charms for the general reader. The
labors Of Carte, and Nicolas are-like
the drawings Of great mastors-of use
only to students. The multitude look
for color and cornnositinn md fan thnt