The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1853-02-26
wH0LE.No 6o4

es. He stamped, as il on a PROSTATE victim
with laugh of hellish delight, and grinding his
heel, as # into his brain, muttercd $50 Shall it
be-" He would talk no morc--I tried to lure
him back to the subjects which had previously
engaged our attention, but could not. re-
! turned to my room and the fearful pantonime
was represented in hundred dreams. At
breakfast met hiIn--he was calm and present.
ly begun 10 talk--his tone was gentle 10 tn,
servant, and he seemed unwilling 10 put him TO
more than necessary trouble. There was all
evident dffidcnce IN his manner. Two or three
strangers were seated at table, one of whom, a
noisy, authoritative person uttered opinions
directly at variance with what had heard INV
'uead avow so hetcely the night before; yet he
opposed them in Il Gmid voice, and in that con-
i fused tumble OF arguments man uses who has
not full confidence in himself.
| called for my horse and departed, not with
out endeavoring TO dssuade the poor fellow
from his desire Of vengeance. But lie turned
away and said: "There is nothing beautiful
enough TO enlice me-nothing horrible enough
to irehien me-nolhing charming enough to
persuade me from my resolve. My bosom is
hell and every thought devil.'
Years passed away-many years-I had al
most forgotten the interview above recorded,
when one evening, as was preparing to en-
!
rode up attended by dozen Arabs. In spite of
his tanned skin and fancitul dress, recognized
! the features Of the ayenger. He did not know
me and was sweeping past when hailed him.
He wheeled his horse around and drew IN at
my side. told him where we last met, and
asked him to ovouac with me. In moment
his order brought his wild comrades TO their
| feet, and flinging his rcnS 10 one he sat down
with me on a ledge of the pyramid "Ynu are
curious 10 know what has huppened me! Well,
you shall hear. changed my Lind so far n,
| to give him Is years, would not murder III.
villain till his children were grown,-and I
knew the old man loves life mora than the
young one, 1 would have him sin more, ami
when the fear oldeath was strongest then, and
not till then, would be rcveneed ia blood! 1t
, natteV not how spent those fifteen years
you know they are numbered with III. pnst
Strange that neither the salety ofthe Partisan
throng--nor the soothing amusements Of Ger
many--nor the study OF old ltcralurs--nor love
for the beautilu-nor the sublimiiy of high
mountains and storms and the great ocean, could
alter my fixed resolve. l counted the years
amid the ruins Of Alhens--I numbered up tn.
months where Cicero lived and noted the up-
proach OF the day along the route OF Cesar.
II came--lhe looked for day. felt my mood
growing bru,ish--I withdrew from men--I
would sit for hours and picture him nj my feet
writing IN death. went ~ his home and saw
him. had been happy those years--very hap
py. In this wild cline had chosen my home
my footprints were in these sands only, and INV
voice for years but stirred the desert air. saw
him. Men knew me not--they looked strange
ly on me, and in many face saw the linen
ments which many childish visase wore at my
departure. mixed with them--and charmed
their evenings with strange tales--I saw him
hated--poor vain creature--I who had triumph
ed in the sciences, who had trod where Greeks
and Romans had lived, who was the leader of a
thousand brave fellows, who had stood where
Christ was reviled-I who had felt the pillows
bound beneath me in every sen, TO step ON
such n worm--Sir, | told them who was why
had returned and why did not execute my
purpose. ! am here again" We passed the
night together found him deeply vcrsed 10 the
German metaphy sics-acquainte with Euro
pean politics-in communication with America,
and engaged in a project to build railroad
through Africa.
The STREAM OF L1FE.-Life bears US
on like the stream of mighty river.
Our boat, at first, glides swiftly down
the narrow channel through the play
full murmurng OF the little brook, and
winding along its grassy borders. The
trees shed their blossoms over our young
heads, and the flowers on the brink
seem to offer themselves to our young
hands; we are in hope, and grasp eager
ly at the beauties around US, but the
stream hurries us on and still our hands
are empty. Our course in youth aud
manhood is along wider and deeper
food and amid objects more striking
and magnificent. We are animated bv
the moving pictures of enjoyment aud
industry passing before us; we are excit-
ed by short lived success, depressed and
rendered miserable by some short-lived
disappointment. But our energy and
our dependence are both in vain. The
steam bears us on, and our Joys and
grieis are left behind US; we may be
shipwrecked, but we cannot anchor; our
voyage may be fastened, but cannot be
delayed, whether rough or smooth the
river hastens towards its home, the roar
ing of the waves is beneath our keel,
and the land lessons from our eyes, the
floods are lifted up around us, and we
take our last leave OF earth and its in
habitants, and of our future voyage
there is no witness but the Infinite and
Eternal.-Bishep Heber.
Now.-"Now," is the constant sylla.
Bile ticking from the clock of time
"Now" is the watchword Of the prudent.
Let us keep this little word alwaysln
our mind, and whenever anything pre-.
sents itself to us IN the shape of work.
whether mental or physical, we should
do it with all our might, remembering
that "Now" is the only time for US. 1t
is indeed, sorry way to get through
the world, by putting off till tomorrow,
saying, "Then will do It," No! this
will never answer. Nov" is ours;
.GrhepS NAV nnver he