Cleveland daily leader. [volume] ([Cleveland, Ohio]) 1865-1873, 1865-12-15

Tux IEcrURE LAST EiGHT.LGeorge Alfred
Townsend, Of New York, the famous war
correspondent and present co-editor of the
Utises, delivered the third lecture of the
course last evening. 10 such an audience as
were brave enough to face the rigors of the
weather. Brainard's Hall was completely
filed by ladies and gentlemen Of refine
ment and culture, and they sat out very
heroically a lecture too long, considering
the cold room in which it was delivered.
Mr.. TowDsend's subject was. "The Re
creations of our Special Correspondent"
and consists chiefly of details, cleverly and
picturesquely drawn, of his observations
and experience on a two years. tour of Eu-
rope. As he dealt largely in personalities,
and IN his pottraitures, catie up to Car
lyle's requirementof ia writer photography"
namely, that he told what was the color OF
his hero's stockings, he will pardon lis for
speaking of his own appearance.
He is a very young looking man, some
twenty four years of age, his face smooth.
save an ineipient moustaehe which just
stails to cast a shadow has sandy hair,
dimpled cheek, well knit frame, and a quite
youthful appearance and address, although
capable of manly dignity and self-possession.
The lecture, an analysis, or report of
which we cannot now undertake, was pleas
ant, graphic, and wellmixed in its elements,
consisting of narratives. descriptions, enec-
dote, and sentiment. The most enjoyable
portions, we fancied, were the portraitures
of notables, the most Happy and entertain
ing of which were those of Dickens, Louis
Napoleon, Adalina Patti and Sturgeon.
But we enjoyed more the general tone and
style of the lecture than any particular
touches in it. There wal a certain chastity
and 6ItratiOn which young men rarely at
The lecturer concluded with the recita-
ton of the following poem, of which he is
the author:
Because to save their bondman's code
The Rebels rend our banners,
We quaker ladsare on the road.
To teach them better manners.
These snow drifts are our native devs,
The frozen fields our pallets,
The thunder ofour guns pursues
Our avalanche of ballots.
Ere treason for its charter gets
One foot of our free heather,
Well drive a million bayOnets
To pin the shreds together.
Ere half the land its creed profess.
We swear, from peer to private.
To plant again the wilderness
So freedom but survive it,
IL madness whet them in the wars
To haunt our marches,
Their blazing towns shall fire the stars
To make our Christmas torches.
The bugles Of our bivouacs
Their pale girls ears shall tingle
Our shells shall shake their chimney stacks,
To tell their boys, Kris Kingle.
The ssbre-clsng in the melee
Shall drown their New Year queries,
For holly-bough the cypress-tree
Toss down its blOod-red berries.
They called our loyal pride but brag,
And fears our tender mercies
They fired at last upon the flag,
And turned our pleas to curses
With iron ribs our ark we bind
And quit the peaceful haven,
The dove no resting place could find
We send abroad the raven.
No shaft, from foreign kings we fear,
That touch our shield and SILVER,
Their hands combined can draw no spear
From the Republics CULVER.
No hedgIing eagle now they seek,
But tempt his full-grown ire,
Who took q frebrand in his beak
And set the w0Eld on ire
His battle-challenge thrills our souls,
The lightnings CLINT his piniOns,
Far as the oceans and the poles
He claims for his dominiOns.
Who from our flag shall strip its stars,
Or rob us of one acre,
While marching among the men Of Mars
The children Of the Quaker