The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1852-12-16

| stand, and the great clock of which ticked in
sensibly at it's ease hour after hour, as if moth
ing special for it or the world were passing-taI
! down in their vaults, the prisoners hear the
! muffied din as of an earthquake" In another
quarter of the earth-away in the blue solitudes
of the ocean-another event is taking place
! through narrow gateway in a black wall q
ock, six hundred feet in height, ship is disap-
pearing. One by one, the white wings vanish,
and as the wall closes in a red riband, futtering
in the air tells you the name of the king OF
which she is the messenger. The stranger has
disappeared. There is nothing TO be seen but
the black wall before you, stretching to the
north and south for miles and miles. There is
nothing to be heard but the dull sound of the
slow waves, as they roll in against the vast ram
part, and muttering for a moment, roll back a
] gain to the solitudes of the ocean. Spring upon
! that rock there-grasp that tough root above
you-steady your footing-rest mOmentl-
There-lcok up-the wall has grown higher
since you leaped. As you gaze upon it, it grows
higher-you see it growing There is life in
the black mass. 1t moyes-lifts itself up
touches that solitary star Steady-rest mo-
ment longer. Tighten your hold upon the root.
Take heart, the hunter of the Tyrol speeds along
a more fatal path, and starts the chamois from
a crag nearer the sun! On then spring to that
other rock. Grasp the long grass. to your left.
Do you see that ledge there
1t shelves too suddenly-your foot gives way
down upon your knees-lock your hand IN the
crevice straight before you. Now, the other
hand-up-up Then you come to slab of
sandstone: cross it, and you reach the trees =
The wall still towers many feet above the clim-
Der, and there is a weary and dangerous path
still before him. But, between him and the
wave which vets the rock upon which he first
sprung there is precipice. He has reached
the trees. He grasps the first, swings himself
TO the second, then to the third. He has gone.
The moving speck is lost in the darkness of
those Alps. Is that cry? The waves utter
no cries-the rocks are dumb-the trees moan
only when the storm is coming on. Another
moving speck-moving towards the cloud-mo-
wing towards the sun, no bigger than this hand,
vet more distinct than cloud or sun-mOying ST.
lently. far up therein the azure sky. Hurrah .
eagle from his throne, and now looks down up
on. and far and wide into the land, they call
Australia Below him, in the shadow OF CIR
cling forest, lies a noble lake mirroring the
green islands which sleep in flowers upon its
breast. the black swans that sail across 1t, ut
teripr cries so mourful and musical, ami the tall
emu that speeds along the sands more heetly
than the wild dog-and tnat ship with its white
wings furled, and the red crest dropping from
the peak, which disappeared through the gate
way in the rock 1t is the ''Sirius, from Lon
don-one year and twelve days out-in charge
of Captain Philip, with six hundred pris-
oners on board and guard ofmarines, two hun
dred and fifty strong. On the 10Th OF January,
1888, the Captain landed, ran up the English
ensign, and read the proclamation constituting
the colony of New South Wales. Eighteen
wears before, Captain Cook, casting anchor IN
bay few miles farther to the South, had taken
possession of the whole of the eastern coast, in
the name of George the Third, King of Great
Britain, Defender of the Faith.
Mr. Meagher then proceeded to give graph
ic sketch of the rise and progress of the colony
up to the present day, which displayed the most
minute research. He exposed the tyranny prac-
tsed in the early history of the colony until its
power and resources have become gradually de-
veloped and it has outgrown oppression, and is
in the attitude of asserting its independence
Mr.. Meagher then gave glowing description
of the gold discovery. He proceeded as fol-
lows:-
Through that gateway in the rock, morning
steals fragrant with the flowers of the coral isles
through which he tripped along the waters of
the Pacifc-the wild birds on the wing-the
native dog sinks away in the Goodnight 10 his
hiding place among the dead trees. The sleeper
awakes-awakes and the climes that is softer
than the wooded regions of Arcadia, more fruit
full than the sunny island from whose fields the
daughter of Vesta wove her fairest garland but
his brow is flushed, his eyes infamed, his pulse
beats anxiety, impatience, bewilderment, a
world of care and wonder is written in his look.
He has dreamt of gold. Along that road over
the blue mountains, where few years since a
little band of brave adventurers went in search
of pasture for their sheep, a multitude, denser
and more motley than that which treads the
sands to Mecca, moves on. And down that riv-
er, where the seamen of the Calcutta frigate q
few years since had picked up the glittering at
oms but threw them away, thinking it mi
ca, ships straining with richer burdens than the
Venetian argosies ever bore are passing out Il