The miners' express. (Dubuque, Iowa) 1849-1854, 1850-02-13

horse and its rider together had gone the jour
ney of death. But we saw no flowers strewed
by fair hands upon the sod that covered them,
and caught not their reviving fragrance. We
bcheld no monument rear itself from their ashes
to their memories. We saw no poets pen in
scribe an epitaph in their remembrance, nor
heard single voice speak of their life or oftheir
death. They were poor! a,.. 10. ..a
70 And then we heard the rattle of thousand clods
fall upon as many coffin-lids and the loud moan
that followed, seemed like the dashng of hun
dred cataracts, or the loud lashing Of as many
surges. .s
Oh, what a mutation again passed over the
strange spirit of our vision. .,
The noddng plume, the glittefing sword, the
heroes word, the flash of fight the loud rattle
of warriors steels, the crash of arms, the smoke
of battle, the crimsoned blade, the gore, the
groans the sigh, the stained battle field, the dy.
ing and the dead! all, all, were before US. And
amidst it all we heard the martial strains of vic
tory, and the loud shouts of triumph. Nations
rose in arms, nations fought and fell, and tri-
umphed. D.. ss
And still another change came over our dream.
An old man, leaning upon staff, weak and
frail, came slowly tottorng before our vision.-
His form was bent to the earth, his brow was
furrowed deeply with age and infirmity, and his
step was slow and feeble. The lnstre ofhis eyes
had died, the roses had faded from his checks,
the fire Of youth, the bright glow Of manhood,
the sunlight effulgence ofmaturity, all had pass
cd away. He was old now, very old; and that
aged veteran of years knew that his moments Of
existence were numbered, and felt the Light of
life burn more dimly in his breast as each sue
ceeding CLEAN of the dying sun beat more faint
ly upon his withcred brow. AS the last rcd light
of that departing sun threw its shadow upon that
old mans countcnance, itrevealed the faint ago
ny Of the mighty struggle that was soon to fol-
low; and the cold air of the approaching night
of death swept through his long, snow-white
locks, and curded the crimson current of his
existence. That night of death came on! A.
mid the clustering of the winds, and the loud
shrill whstlng of the tempest, we heard the
cracking of that frail staff upon which the last
hope was centered. We heard his trembling
voice supplicating for existence, until it grew
fainter and fainter, till its last echo died upon
the air Black was the darkness which followed,
for it was his only shroud. and shrill were the
winds which swept over his cold form, for they
were the muses. who sung a requium to his me-
mory.
What a wonderous change then came swiftly
over the life of our vision.
We saw the caverns Of the earth open with
mighty sound, and close again over that old
mans corpse with noise loud as seven thun-
ders Oh, what slght followed we hcheld
again the clear azure of the sky, and heard the
melody of thousand harps swell to the rcsoun-
ding march of the stars! And then from the
grave of that old man we beheld come forth in
to existence, being upon whose brow shonc the
first radiance of youth, and upon whose cheeks
bloomed the first bud of loveliness. We heard
the music of thousand lutes accompanied with
The anthems of ten thousand voices wclc ONE it
into existence.
1t was no longer night. The first dawn of
morning broke upon the scene, and the Fl rst ray
ofsun-light played upon the marble brow of that
tender babe. We started up from the deep
slumber which had embraced US, and the spirit
of our dream had fled!
The rays Of the first bright sun of the New
Year came dancing in through our open window,
and the jngling Of the sleigh bells, mingled with
the shouts of merry ones, fell sweetly on our
ears. We rose from our couch to mngle with
the mirthful, and to ponder over our strange
dream Of the OLD YEAR.