, 1863-02-28


any position in printing Office. He as
pired to be something above the mere type
setter, and when employed together as
journeymen-when the labors of the day
were over, and we had retired to the quiet
: of our own room-we have for hours
watched his busy fingers transferring his
thoughts to paper, for publication in the
3 journal on which he was employed, or for
the California and eastern press. Oregon
gand Washington had in him bold and
= Fable defender years ago on the Indian war
Escrip question: through the columns of the
sNew York Herald and Tribune. He was
IA ready writer, and always prepared for the
emergency which called him from the COM
position room to the editorial chair.
Though the last years of his young life
were rendered uncomfortable to him by dis
ease, he still cherished the same high hopes
) and ambitions that stimulated him to action
7 when in health, and he yielded to the des-
stroyer reluctantly. He lived for a purpose,
and though his high aims have been thwart-
led by death before he had reached the full
( avigor of manhood, it cannot be said of him
! THAT he leaves no record behind. He leaves
kthat which will be esteemed by his friends
las of more value than all else beside-AN
zHoNoRED NAME.
As brother, Mr.. Northrop was affec-
4tionate and kind as friend, he was faith
9ful, true and self-sacrifcing. We loved him
FLOR this, and for the warm, generous and
ewhole-souled nature that dictated no wrong,
Sindulged no vice, and sought only the good
! of those by whom he was Immediately sur
rounded or whom duty called him to serve,
awe bid him a reluctant adieu; for he loved
fife and we loved him.
Trusting that he has reached the " beau
ltiful shore," for which in moments of sad
! mess his heart sometimes sighed, we ap-
pend, as an index to his inner thoughts and
shopes and as last tribute to his memory, the
Sfollowing lines, which we have often heard
4him admire, and which he selected with
ghis own hands and gave to US four years ago:
4 There is many holy and rApturous strain
Floating over the River of Death,
4 To the weary who wait, like the ripened grain,
For the touch of the Reapers breath.
d There flashes of light on each lifted wave,
il glldeS from the further shore.
81 To the shadowy borders our tear-drops lave,
In the lull of the waters
There are harp strings stirred by the perfumed air
And gushing with melody sweet,
Like the whispered note of a child at prayer
In the hush of the twilight deep.
81 They hear the low music so solemn and grand
And heed not the eddying tide
4 For they catch CLEAN of the forms that stand
BY the stream on the other side
q And we see a light on the calm white brow,
q Like the glow of the crimson morn
But not the lips on the lids of snow
4 All the night we deem so long
And we only know when we hear no more,
a AS watch for the passing breath,
q That angel is swiftly bearing them down
The banks of the River of Death
Only know that their footsteps pressing thesands
OF the shore that their brightness laves;
q And over their bosoms fresh garands we lay,
q And lily we twine in their hair
a Fit embems of beauty, now blighted they say,
q Those garlands and lily buds are.
a call it not blighted-I deem them not dead
q Who thus pass away in their bloom;
For they rest in their beauty where tears not shed
q Der the darkness and blight of the tomb.
And oft, as sit at the easement alone,
u list, if perchance may hear,
81 Through the stately pines as they sway and moan
Il Like child at the shrouded bier
The futter of sails and tho rushing of waves,
a And the flash of gilded oar,
81 As the reaper starts from his emerald caves
q To carry down to the shore;
4 And wait for the swoop of angel wing,
A And the clasp of an angel hand,
4 For the sound of harp and the chant of hymn,
y And the light of the glory land.
8 But alas ! listen and wait in vain
Yet know that my weary feet
Shall wander ere long from the valley Of pain,
To the river solemn and sweet.
q l shall go with the Reaper changeless and pale,
4 And each that my heart has known,
Each agonized cry, each desolate wall
4 Each fesrtul and piteous moan,
4 Shall be washed away by the numerous waves,
q From my spirit joyous and free,
4 When see the smile of the lovely whe wait
4 On the beautiful shore for me-"
r. R. R.