Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1857-07-09
Criminal 9kettk.
For the Yorkville Enquirer.
ROMANCE and IT'S CONSEQUENCES.
BY MRS. NJ. W. sTRATToN.


That triHing manhood, wasted YOUTH
Cannot be acted o'er again.
"My soul is sad," was the melancholy
heading of piece of poetry which lately
graced the columns of the paper for which
this little article is intended.
We know nothing of the author, but we
wondered that soul filled with such talent
as those verses indicate, could be sad at any
time. We think that it should rather pour
forth songs of joyous thankfulness to God
for so gifting it. A soul so capable of ap-
preciating the beauties of this green earth
of ours-the glories of the "star-spangled"
sky above 1.-THE placid loveliness of the
moonlight night-the grandeur of the storm
-(when ones not in it) the loveliness of
Aowers-the song of birds-the soul stirring
sound of music-the deep, deep charm OF
poetry-the thousand things which make it
bliss to live, and agony to die; can such a
soul be sad
We do not think that those lines came
from soul scathed by long, and real mis-
fortune; such do not feel so wildly, or, so
depict the heavy, unchanging ache the heart
has borne for long years. There is no such
"life in their despair-no such vitality of
poison" But perhaps they came from one
over which gust of passion and disappoint-
ment has swept, carrying away some cher
ished dream---some bright Anticipation
some brilliant hope-and what of that ?
They will all be replaced-others will arise
from their ashes, wanting only the freshness
of the first. We will tell that young writer
little story, or, rather Gan owre true tale" "
Once upon time 1--WE stole that reader,
but we really couldn't help it, for like Lord
Byron, we have found
'.Nothing so difficult as beginning
In poesy for prose) except perhaps the end.")
Once upon time there lived a fair young
girl she was blest with health, beauty, COM
petence, and even moderate share of tai
ent She could appreciate the beautiful,
and love the true, but she adored the ideal
the romantic. She could "let herself
down" to ordinary existence-go respectfully
through most of the common duties of life
tolerate the people she met-mix in the
incidents and conversations of daily occur
renee, and none suspected that she had ga
mind diseased" that everything was done
mechanically, that she felt no interest in any
thing around her-yet so it was.
An injudicious course of reading, began and
persevered in from childhood, (for she read
novels and poetry, when children usually study
the spelling book or primmer,) had diffused
its poison through system too we'll fitted to
inbibe it. Early orphaned she had no one
to watch the development of her mind--none
to administer to it proper sustenance, or
remove from it that which would be injuri-
Gus. Her love of reading, her passionate
fondness for poetry, might, with certain re-
strictions, have been productive of pleasure
and advantage. AS it was, they entailed on
her months of despair, years of unhappiuess,
and life-lasting restlessness, which brought
vain yearnings, misdirected efforts, and par,
tial un6tness for any of the useful pursuits
of life. But we anticipate.
She lived in world of her own creation,
peopled with "faultless monsters which the
world ne'er saw" and among them there
was one for whom she raised an altar in the
deepest recess of her heart, and there she
worshiped this idol of her imagination, and
with him, all who approached her were COM
pared, and how unlovely, how insipid, how
revolving they (the real denizens of earth
appeared. In her romantic heart she cher.
ished the belief that she should Jet meet the
counterpart of her ideal-that he lived some
where, and lived for her. Among his at
tributes was of course extraordinary person.
al beauty-her poetical temperament could
not dispense with that; being so perfect
must also be intellectual, and he must not
only love her deeply, and unwaveringly, but
the strength of his attachment must be al
most equaled by its purity and refinement
and it must be a first love; he must adore
the ground her foot had pressed, the flower
her hand had touched, the book she read
and he must hoard up looks and tones, and
smiles, to feed on in the absence of the be
slower; be must have no thought which dio