New-York daily tribune. [volume] (New-York [N.Y.]) 1842-1866, 1850-12-12

The pmbpYs were dark l slifIed tutH lit
was no sign OF life. Ny dog WAS asleep me
clock in my tenants chamber h'a sli1' = o-iI
dashed tear or two rom my eyes no" tney
came there I know not. half ejncniated prayer
Of thanks that such desoation had not yet come
niab me and a prayer of hoPe-that It might
never come. a.
Nv reverie was ended
We take one more extract OF dirteren. hnd,
Showing the versatile and delicate skill, with
which the author clothes familiar scenes withifesh
life ,,,sr,
A. look back, boyhood with It's griefs and
lores yeuishes into the proud statelilcss OF
yonth The AMBITION and the riyaires OF the
;9olIeoa hfe-itg first boasttGl importance as
kuo1ledue begins to dawn on the wakened
mind and the ripe, and euyabie ocmplacency
Of its senior dignity,-ail send over my memory
like this morning breeze along the meadows; aud
Ike that too, bear upon their wing, a chiLness-
as of distant ice-banks.
Ben has grown almost TO manhood: Lilly IS
living IN distant home; aud Isabel is just
blooming into that sweet age, whose womanly
dignity waits her beauty an age that sorely
puzzles one vino has grown up beside her
making him slow Of tongue, but very quick OF
heart
AS for the rest-let US pass ON.
The sea is around me. The last headands have
gone down, under the horizon, like the city
steeples, as you lose yourself ia the cain OF the
country or ike the great thoughts OF genius as
you slip from the pages OF poets, into your own
quiet reverle.
The waters skirt me right and left there IS
nothing but water before, ard only water behind
Above me are sailing Clouds or the blue vault
which we call with childish cense-heaven. The
sails, white and fall, like helping friends are
pushing me on and night and day are distant
with the winds which come and g0-nOne know
whence, and none know whittier. a land bird
hutters aloft, weary with long lying and lost IN
4 world where are 10 forests but the careen-
ing masts, and no foliage but the drifts of a spray.
1t cIeaves awhile to the smooth spars till urged
By some hOmeward ycarning, it bears off in the
face of the wind and sinks, and rises over the
angry waters, until its strength is gone, and the
blue gather tho poor futterer TO their cold,
and CLASSY bosom.
All She morning | see nothing beyond me but
the waters, or a tossing company OF dOlphins all
the neon, unless some white sajl-like a ghost,
stalks the horizon, there is still nothing but the
rolling seas; all the evening, after the sun has
grown big and sunk under the water line, and the
moon risen white and cold, to glinmer across the
tops of the surging ocean,-there is nothing but
the sea, and the sky to lead oil thought, or to
crush it with their greatness
Hour after hour, as sit i'll the moonlight upon
the taiirai, the great waves gather tar back and
break louder,-and gather again, and roll down
swift and terrible under the creaking ship, and
heave itup lightly upon their swelling surge, and
drop it gently to their seething and yeasty cradle
like an infant in the swaying arms of a mother,
or like shadowy memory, upon the pillows oil
manly thought.
Conscience wakes in the silent nights of ocean;
life lies open like book and spreads out MS level
as the sea. Regrets and broken resolutions chase
over the soul like swiftwinged night birds, and
all the unsteady nights and the wastes OF action,
lift up distinct and clear from the uneasy, but
limpid depths OF memory.
ct within this floating world | am upon, sym
pathes are narrowed down, they cannot range,
as upon the land, over thousand objects. You
are strangely attracted toward some trail grl,
whose pallOr has given place to the rich
bloom OF the sea life. You listen eagerly to the
chance snatches OF Il song from below, IN the long
morning watch You love to see her small feet
tottering on the unsteady deck; and you love
greatly to aid her steps, and feel her weight upon
YOUR arm, ms the ship lurches to 4 heavy sea.
Hopes and fears knit together pleasantly upon
the ocean. Each day seems to revive them; your
morning salutation, is like o welcome after ab
sence, upon the shore aud each good night has
the depth and fulmess OF a land farewell. And
beauty grows upon the ocean, you cannot certain
w saw that the face OF the fair girlvOynger is
prettier than that Of Isabel oh, no but you
are certain that you cast innocent and honest
glances upon her, as you steady her walk upon
the deck, far oitener than at the iirst and ocean
life, and sympathy, makes her kind she does not
resent your rudencss one-halt so stoutly, as she
might upon the shore
She will even llngcr OF an evenlng-pleadlng
first with the mother and standing beside you,-
her white hand not very far from yours upon the
rail,-ook down where the black ship filings off
with each plunge, whole garlands of emerads or
she will look up thinking perhaps you are look
ing the same way into the skies, In search of
some stars-which were her neiehbors at home.
And bits Of old tales will come up, as if they rode
upon the ocean Quietude and fragments of half
forgotten poems, tremulously uttered.-either by
reason of the rolling Of the ship, or some acciden-
tai touch of that white hand
But ocean has its storms, when fear will make
strange and unholy companionship; and even
here my memory shifts swiftly and suddenly
1t is dreadful night The passengers are
clustered trembling, below. Every plank shakes;
and the oak ribs groan, as il they suffered with
their toll. The hands are all aoft the captain is
! forward shouting to the mate in the cross trees
and am clinging to one of the stanchions, by the
binnacle The ship is pitching madly and the
waves are topping up sometimes as high as the
yard-arm and then dipping away with a whirl
under our keel, that makes every timber in the
vessel Qulver The thunder is roaring like
thousand cannons and at the moment, the sky is
cleft with stream Of ire, that glares over the
tops OF the waves and glistens on the wet decks
and the spars,-hghting up all so plain, that can
see the mems faces in the main top, and catch
gIimPses of the REFERS the yard arm, clinging
like death then all is horrible darkness.
Tile spray spits angrily against the canvass;
the waves crash against the weather. bow like
mountains the wind bowls through the rigging,
or, as gasket gives way, the sail bellying toIee.
ward, splits like the crack of musket | hear
the Captain in the lulls, screaming out orders and
the mate in the rigging, screaming them over, I'm
III the lightning comes and the thunder, dead
ening their voices, as ii they were chirpng spar
rows
In one of the flashes, see a hand upon the
yard.arm lose his foothold, as the ship gives a
plunge but his arms are clenched around the
spar Before | can see any more the blacknesg
comes, and the thunder, with crash that half