The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1852-08-05

The following beautiful gem is from -.
of Miss ELIZABETH Snow, young girl RI,
fifteen years of age. She is daughter 30 =
w. w. Snow, NJ c., from the otseco a;..0.- w.
and is destined to be one of the by;gb.os.:I.''
eets in that section of the country. Its .tri.
shows the writer to be possessed of decided =,
ent with pure and elevated tone of tboroI.
How beautiful the teachings of the .sNiob, :.
ces" to the heart of this fair young girl NJ
ing dark or sombre presents itself to her -.
nation, but aspirations high, hopeful. and l'5-
fill her bosom. Her spirit is lifted fro.
darkness that overshadows the earth p :,
beauty and brightness of heaven, drinking n
spiration therefrom, whilst her heart is o'erso-
ing with gratitude to the Supreme Bein, :,
created all things thus beautiful and ,oro !.
spirit capable of appreciating their beortr
The composition vas furnished for the .Metror
olitan" of Washington
The Voices of the Night,
BY MISS ELIZABETH SNOW.
| To the thoughtful mind the Voices of VI,
speak In thousand gentle whispers tbar o.
born on the soft breeze, and in the perfume Ia
dened air, in the murmuring brook they have .
resting place. Though mists sbropd nioh.
beautiful Voices of the Magical Past and n,
known Future come sweeping in gentle zenbvrs
through the mind of man. The Present i a.
initiated and memory with her magic wand
brings to mind the happy days of youth
Again the man is a boy bounding DER hin and
dale, with buoyant step of childhood cbasir..
some gay butterfly or bright forest leaf. as # +
borne coquetishly by the breeze
Again, he is joyous happy child with no r--
grets for tie past, no longings for the futur,
his days are one long dream Of happiness and
sunshine; and yet little farther he is born,
on memory's pinions to the days of early man
hood, when silver tongued hope Whispered q,
him of future fame, and when he deemed tba
world as free from deception and guile as he
own pure heart.
There Is voice, too, which speaks to our
hearts when we look upon the azure vault. bes-
pangled with those isles of spiritual brightness
Who, when he looks upon these, has not wished
for wings to fly to those bright realms? Ther.
too, are Voices that speak to rs in musical tone
of the grandeur and sublimity of the works O..
God
hueH We gaze pom lnOSe SISr-llt gems. men,
ories, sad, but sweet, come crowding DER US:
memories of loved ones that have passed away.
Again we are taking farewell of some love
" flower Of earth; which had been nurturei
with tender care, and surrounded by an atmos-
phere of love, but which, all our own efforts
could not save; we see the lovely blossom with
er droop, and die; they may be ikened to those
frail fiowers-too delicate to bear the dews Of
night, and which droop at its approach.
But Night has other Voices than those that
Memory lends. 1t is then, when all is solemn
silence around, that soft Nightly whisper
to the soul, of Him who ever seems nearer in
the darkness, and when memory's waves have
rolled over the spirit until it feels sad and trou-
bled, the thought of one day dwelling with that
holy Being in an eternal day, comes like brit
dream of morning, chasing the gloom of Night
away.
OneODta OtSero 70 y Y