Daily Nashville patriot. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1857-1858, 1857-03-11
From the Huntsville American Independent.
To Henry walton.

! 4
heart thrilled with more exquisite SENSATION
of pleasant surprise, than it did the other day,
when, glanclng over my favorite "Independ-
ent,p bsheld your beautiful. delicate. and
gerry complimentary "Tribute." To one so lit
Tie known to fame and fortune as myself, be
assured, your gentle sympathy is deeply felt,
and every kind wish for my happiness sincere
~ reciprocated, and your expressed thoughts"
recognized as the pure and holy communing of
kindred spirit. Ali nly soul was indeed
athirst for the sweet and healing waters OF
human sympathy" when penned those lines,
that have received such monrnfully touch
ing response from yoars. Softly and sweetly
has it fallen upon my fainting, weary spirit
Like dewy tears on dropping flowers,
Pning for the April shower
Bidding hope more Il ume
heart that long had been her tomb;
and the sweet soothing consciousness of being
understood and appreciated by a noble, gener-
Gus mind like yours-of causing even one throb
of joyful emotion in a heart suffering, perhaps,
like mine, the darkness of bereavement" is
to me a most precious thought, and one that
viii be fondly treasured among the fen Sunny
memories in n1y heart heaUen, that no dark
cloud of coming years can ever entirely Ger
shadow.
And have you, too my friend, drank flife's
bitter cup2- seen, like me, your souls loved
idols one by one depart, to jointhe ''home-cir-
clen in that better land, or, what is far more
painful to warm and loving heart, lioed to
| find them "unreal mockeries ala" Ali It's this
that makes life a weariness, and robs this fair
earth of all its beauty-that makes Us sigh for
that pure and happy existence, where death
and sin are unknown-where we shall bid no
/ 81, han
| life--and where kindred souls shall again reu
mite, and God himself bid them live and love
for ever. o s0e slf
But, my friend, why do you write SO des-
pondEgly2 Permit me TO say, life should not
wear gloomy aspect to one so young, talent
ed and intellectual as judge goa to be. Oh,
no; a bright and glorious destiny lies before
you, if you only enter with quiet energy and
determination upon the worlds vast arena,
and braSely battle with the storms of fate, as
man alone can do. Consider how much good
you may accomplish, and how great the hap
piness dlffuse around you, and TeUer, neOer do
spair.
fancy, if had been one of the 'lords of
creation" instead of a poor little soOnaan, |
should have been cery ambitious. My aim
should at least have been lofty one. like
the philosophy of the old maxim, "Aim at the
stars" If you miss them, it is far more glori-
Gus to perish in the noble attempt, than to
grovel all your days on the earth aftera "glow
worm" Yes, my course should ever have been
like the proud edgles-upwsrd and onward to-
ward the great source of light and knowledge,
and my last cry like Goethe, Light, let in
more light" Oh, how my soul soorships such
men-men who "have worked right on TO the
accomplishment of their great purposes; toll
ing much, enduring much, fulfilling much, and
then, with shattered nerves, and sinews all
unstrung, have laid themselves down in the
grave, and slept the sleep of DEATH and the
world talks of them while they sleell"
Yes, sweetly sleep, where Springs first blossoms
Breathe their soft and oh perfume,
And the mournful nds Of autumn
! Sigh requiem Ger their tomb
Thus would l. too, sleep; but alas, as Shake
speare says of the Jew-I'm but lo0n1an.
You bid me "nourish fond hope" of future
fame and happiness. All, ] would fain
do so--fain build up again my ''cloud castles"
and people them with living forms of love and
| beauty; but it may not be. Soon would they
vanish like morns sweet dream, but leaving,
unlike a dream, many sad wreck behind.
! All, these heart mounds are hard to bear; and
though the soft hand of friendship oft pours
the healing balm upon them, ugly scars" will
| Telbdlhs blidJ Liiu6 Cdh NCCC' SL4aOC' hdfC hOG
many found it 500
The " treasures of authorship, as you just
| ly observe. are indeed ''bootless, aud | am
| disposed to think rather "myth than re-
aLity-a thing only existing in the imagination;
and such, presume, is the opinion of many
| Others beside myself, who find the sacred wa
tiers of " Helicon a nsedgre diet to lice on, un-
aided by the "all mighty dollar" And fame!
what fame awaits the lowly without ats tails
manic influenced None-emphatically nonei
| A volume of poems conld not be published
these days without its magic charm, if they
possessed all the sublimity, beauty, elegance,
! and pathos of Milton, Scott, and Byron com
| bined, particularly if they emansted from the
| South. There is no encouragement given to
our literature in this country-no generous,
| high-souled "Mecenas to extend a hand to
struggling genius; and yet we have some as
| brilliant stars in our Southern hemisphere
as ever coruscated in the North. Look, for
instance, at L. Virginia French's poems.
Where will youy6nd any more chastely beau
| tifu-emitting the brightest scintillatons OF
| genius, taste, and refinement, in almost every
! line, flashing and sparkling, perfect rainbow
of Jewels; yet these living "pearls these
precious gems of thought, gathered from
the pure deep waters of patient, toiling, trust-
ing woman's soul, are suffered to lie unheeded
"A dead weight on the shelves of our book
stores, And why2 They are Southern Hterd'
ture--therefore not worth reading!
No, no, my friend, | but sing likesome lone
BIRD
That far OF in the vale,
Breathes her sad song
nd the low hnUe cal