The daily Minnesota pioneer. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1854-1855, 1854-08-23
The GreenhOrn and the Poet.

Hc lOIoWilS ilclucnt Ol Il ulStIiS usHtu
Philadelphian. teaches lesson of love and
kindness, which it will be well for all literary
men to copy
Once on a time, went to- see Willis Cay
lord Clarke, then editor of the Philadelphia
Gazette. | remember the clothes wore, and
how L arranged them, and brushed them to
take off, the country; but it would stick to
them. That gray linsey woolsey coatee, made
capacious to invite growth, with huge pockets
outside for chcstnuts and apples; the thick
wooden mlttenS trowscrs of the same material,
rough inside as rasp, to promote counter IT.
rltation and dilute the blood, made of ample
dimensions with tucks so as to last for Sun
days two winters, and for common" indefinite
ly; waistcOat somewhat short but wide, to
compensate, with staring brown figures, big
and bold, as a compromise with the cravat of
the same order cOmmodiOus high boots heavy
and hobnailed, emitting a compound of leath-
or and grease when near the fire Il wool hat
OF aspiring crown and diminutive brim. and a
shilling cotton bandanna to display Oh occa-
siOns of emotion.
SO attired, went to the city of brotherlv
love with forty pairs of chickens, six turkeys.
and two ''possams' the latter harpooned in
the hen-roost with ptchfork and their car
tssoSoo, OeLIi W NC SUN W pay
for the depredations-wththi this provender to sell
Oh account of my guardian. and Il poem in my
trowSers pockets to exhibit on my own account,
| went. The marketing sold, not to the best
advantage either, for the poem and Mr.. Clark
were in my mind. | called at the office, in
quired for the editor stated that my business
was personal and private" and was ushered
into the sanctum, amid the smiles of clerks and
others.
Mr.. Clark was alone deeply absorbed; and
there ] was in the presence of real live poet.
slid quietly along to half the nearest chair ;
holding my wool hat between my knees. and
the bandanna in my hand, awaiting him to
look up. tie did so in few moments, and
the pensiVe, almost melancholy beauty of his
face lit up with faint smile as he saw the
rustic apparitiOp. | was all eyes, for there
sat the man who edited .our paper" and writ
the verses had cried over in the barn and
cornfield, and tried to initiate on Sunday morn
ings when our folks had gone to church. My
carnestness, l suppose, interested him. He
did not laugh as feared but gently said
do you wish to see me, sir?'
said "Ycs" And | trembled, and nv
eyes filed in spite of myself. Il came to ask
your advice about some lines haye written
~ OH write verses, do yOu?' he said pleas
anty and added, 1T is poor business
Not if | could write such us yours | re-
piled.
perhaps You may" said he. ALLOW me to
see yours. What do you call them?'
"Ihe Home of the Poets,' said |, handing
him the paper-it was substantial foolscap
well tumbled
"POetS have no home on EARTH" he said
and the terrible pathos thrilled me like an ar
row.
Il have made their homes in hcayen,"
said, land | have given them superior place
for 1 think that exalted natures must reach a
higher place i'll whatever sphere they attain
to-"
lie looked at me steadily for a moment, and
then read the poem of thirty verses twice over
during which watched his face, 50 pale with
such deep lines of thought and suffering Il
nature so purely emotional, forced into spherc
SO wholly executive, fitted to dream and glow,
but compelled to work and suffer, till my heart
went out to him with bound. Finishing the
poem, he said
My young friend, Nature made you Il poet
there's no denying that; and it will puzzle
man to unmake you Ill give you ten dollars
for this, and publish it."
Thank YOU" said |, as well as | could Il
do not want to publish it, Then he handed
me some of his own manuscripts, which read
and passed never to be forgotten hour or
two with him. | rccur to it always with the
greatest pleasure it was noble in him to 50
receive green, gawky boy, and read my crude
rhymes. And thousand times since when
the promise of life has turned to ashes, and the
victory seemed not worth the battle have
REQUIRED to that interview, and resolved to
struggle.
left Mr.. Clark, threw the rhymes into the
desk with hundreds Of Others, plunged into
commerce and reform, graduated through Qua
kerism to some spiritual faith, but rejected and
disbcieved my gift Of poesy- scarcely believe
it now but occasionally look back to Mr.
Clark's generous words, and then the ''rhym
ing impulse carries me out Of trade and tu-
mutt to the sweet still places far inward and
upward Pittsburgh Chr. Adr.