The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1866-06-13
MISCELLANY.
Newspapers.

wonderful to him who has eyes to see it
rightly, is the newspaper. To me, for exam
pie, sitting on the critical front bench of the
pit, In my study here in Salem, the advent of
my weekly journal is that of strolling thea
tire, or rather of puppet show, on whose
stage, narrow as tbs, the tragedy, comedy, and
farce OF life are played in little. Behold the
whole huge earth sent to me hebdomadally in
brown paper wrapper!
Hitler to my obscure corner, by wind or
steam, on horseback on dromedary-back, in
the pouch of the Indian runner, or clicking
over the magnetic wires, troop all the famous
performers from the four quarters ofthe globe.
Looked at from point of criticism, tiny pup
pets they seem all, as the editor sets his booth
upon MY DESK and officiates as Snowman
Now can truly see how little and transitory
is life. The earth appears almost as drop #
vinegar, on which the solar microscope OF the
imagination must be brought to bear, in order
to make out anything distinctly.
The animalcule there in the pea-iacket is
Louis Philippe, just landed on the coast of
England. That other, in the gray surtout and
cooked hat, is Napoleon Donaparte Smith, as
surfing France that she need apprehend no in
terierence from him in the present alarming
juncture. at that spot where you seem to
see speck Of something in motion, is an inn
mense mass-meeting Look sharper and you
will see man brandishing his mandibes in
an excited manner This is the great So-and-
so, defining his position amid tumultuous
and irrepressible cheers. The infinitessimal
creature, upon whom some score of others, as
minute as he, are gazing in open-mouthed adj
miration, is a famous philosopher, expounding
to select audience their capacity for the in
finite. That scarce-dIscernible puffet OF smoke
and dust is a revolution. That speck there is
retormer just arranging a lever with which
he is to move the world. And 10 there creeps
forward the shadow of a skeleton that blows
one breath beneath its grinning teeth, and all
our distinguished actors are whisked off the
slippery stage into the dark beyond.
\ es, the little show-box has its solemn sug-
gestions. Now and then we catch a glimpse
of a grim old man, who lays down scythe
ard an hour-glass in the corner, while he
background weird shape is delving Some
times he leans upon his mattock, and gazes,
as coach whirls by, bearing the newly mar
ried on their wedding jarnnt, or glances care
lessly at babe brought home from christen-
ing. Suddenly flor the scene grows larger
and larger as we look bony hand snatches
back performer IN the midst OF his part, and
him whom yesterday two infnities lpast and
future) would not suffice, handful Of dust
is enough to cover and silence forever. Nav.
we see the same fieShless fingers opening to
clutch the Snowman himself, and guess, not
without shudder, that they are lying in wait
for spectators also. H
Think OF it! for two dollars year buy a
season ticket to this great Globe Theatre,
whose scene-shffter is Time, and whose cur
tain is rung down by Death.
Such thoughts will occur to me sometimes
as am tearing off the wrapper Of my news
paper. Then suddenly that otherwise too
often vacant sheet becomes invested for me
with strange kind of awe. Lookl Deaths
and marriages, notices of inventions, discQv-
cries, and books, lists Of promotions, of killed,
wounded and missing; news of fires, accidents,
OF sudden wealth and as sudden poverty. l
hold in my hand the end Of myriad invisible
electric conductors, along which tremble the
joys, sorrows, wrongs, triumphs, hopes and
,.espairs OF as many men and women every
where. So that, upon that mood of mind
which seems to isolate me from mankind as a
spectator OF their puppet pranks, another SUI
pervenes, in which feel that l, too, unknown
and unheard OF, am yet of some import to my
fellows. For, through my newspapers here,
do not families take pains to send me, an en-
lire stranger TO them, news of death among
them? Are not here two who would have
me know of their marriage? And, strangest
OF all, is not this singular person anxious to
have me- know that he has received a fresh
supply of dimity broisgins? But to none OF
us does the present (even for moment dis
cerned as such) continue miraculous. We
carelessly glance at the sunrise, and get used
to Orion and Pleiades. The wonder wears
off; and tomorrow this sheet, in which Wis
ion was let down to me from heaven, shall be
a wrappage for bar of soap, or the platter
for beggar's broken victuals.-JGnaes Russell
LOlceU