The New Orleans crescent. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1866-1869, 1869-03-30

21,777. The facts as We have heard them are az
follows: On Friday last the young gentleman
who sells the tickets at Dave Johnston's in Com
nercal alley, found that he wastoo late to turn in
his unsold tickets. So he took them home with
him for safe keeping. Among them was No.
2l,777. Now the brother of this young man, who,
from long acquaintance with the broker
age business is of rather speculative
turn Of mind, was rather inclined to
invest and sctusIy had selected the lucky ticket,
but taking second thought concluded that twelve
| dollars was too much TO risk. That night the
young men slept with the tickets under their pill
| lows, little dreaming (however the superstition
may run) of the fortune thus $50 near and yet so
| far" So the next morning 2l,777 went back to
the lottery company, and two hours after its re-
turn two youths might have been seen in the
neighborhood of Commercial Alley, woeful Of
mien and forlorn Of aspect, sadly muttering-
Z" OF all sad words Of tongue or pen
The saddest are these-it might have been"
Everybody was talking yesterday about the
manner in which Easter Sunday was celebrated in
the city. Full particulars will be found else
where.
We know that there is q homogeneousness in
genius which often tends to make great men
think the same thoughts. and even often seek
similar expression of their ideas; but we con.
fess that we never had full faith in the identity Of
genius until we read last Sundays Times, in
which it was fully proved. In that edition of the
Times appeared the following, which we tran.
scribe exactly. noting that it was written for the
New Orleans Times and by FREDERICK Ashton:
For the New Orleans Sunday TimesI
TO MY SPIRITS LOVE.
By Frederics Ashton.
OH give me some strong human will,
To lull this dream of woe;
II binds me with its iron chain
And will not let me 60.
Oh! give me strength to curb this strife,
And make my spirit know
Ny early days of happy life
The days of long ago.
But now there's darkness on my path,
A shadow on my heart;
each fond feeling seek TO hide,
And with sad tremblings start.
They think that I'm forgetting thee;
But ali they do not see
The running tears, when I'm alone,
Flowing 30 fast and free!
! list unto my birds sweet song,
Its wild and gladstone chants;
But no. the ead'niDg weight Is here,
And still my bosom pants,
For the long lost dreamy hours of Joy,
When thou vert by my aide,
And care seemed but an empty name,
Not to my life allied.
Now the above In itself is nothing remarkable.
1t is rather fair rhyme, and about the average of
newspaper productions. But what makes it re.
msrkable is the fact that in either the March or
April number of Cooley Magazine for the year
1854 appears the following poem. which it will be
noticed was not written for the New Orleans Sun
day Times, and wssnot written by FREDERICK Ash
ton, but was written by Jaronette:
WAS ROBBED OF MY SPIRIT LOVE.
By JsrOnette.
Oh! give me some strong human will;
~ To lull this dream of woe;
1t birds me with its iron chain,
And will not let me go.
Oh! give me strength to curb this strife,
And make my spirit know
My early days Of happy life,
OF days long, long ago.
But now there's darkness on my path,
A shadow on my heart; |
each fond feeling Geek 10 hide,
Trembling In ev'ry psrtl
They think that I'm forgetting thee;
But alb! they do not see
TIE coursng tears, when I'm alone,
Flowing 30 fast and free!
list my birds sweet matin song,
Its wild and gladstone chants:
But no, the dead'ning weight is here,
And still my spirit pants
For long lost dreamy hours of joy.
When thou vert by my side,
And care seemed but q thing of name,
Not to my life allied.
Now when the smile is on my Lip,
II turns that smile 10 tears
Stemming the life-blood Of my heart
With weary weight of years.
II makes the strong proud limbs refuse
To roam this gladstone earth,
And sends me Keeling, mad. within,
From out the sounds of mirth.
Ipet each blossom from nv shrubs,
And call them By thy name;
/ ask them if their spirits tell
That am still the same.
A pure white rose that bloomed this morn
Invent this eve to take;
"Tbe spirit of the how'r'' had fed,
The cold its heart did break
They tell me that thou csrest not
For womans love or fame;
That thou speak'st lightly of them ell
That bear the gentle name.
But. oh heed them not the while,
They have not read thy heart;
know you have not chsng'd 30 much
Since we were forced to part.
And though they bid me see thee not,
Ny spirit meets thee oft
In dreamland, where the fow'rs bloom bright,
The air 30 calm and soft.
The angels then are by my side,
They kiss me with thy lips,
And clasp Hopes rainbow round my heart,
In that dream hour Of bliss.
And sometimes In thy weary hours
Recall the past and weave
The dream OF hallowed love and hope
I'll ever for thee breathe.
Then wander forth amid the throng,
And seek some gentle one,
One that will honor thy dear name,
And take her TO diy home.
Now, dear reader, did you ever come across
ZEAL striking instance OF the fact that great minds
'un In the same channels" Here is Jaronette,
fifteen years ago writing for Godey's Lady Book.
poem, and here is FREDERICK Ashton, last Sun.
lay, writing for the New Orleans Times, poem,
which in its genius and wording is SO much like the
,ther that prejudiced persons might even say that
{ vas copied. Let those who win deny, but for
is we shall believe hereafter in the eternal ident
v of cenius.