Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1870-03-16

The Directors of the Portland s. kennebec
Railroad held meeting in this city Monday
evening, chiefly for the purpose of determin-
ing in regard to the material to be used in the
construction of a new railroad bridge across
the river in this city. The following gentle
men were present: j. B. Brown and III. n.
Jose of Portland, VIM. ID. Sewall and G. NJ
Patten of Bath, N. w. Whitmore of Gard
liner, p. Coburn Of Skowhegan, and r. ID.
Rice and Darius Alden Of Augusta. The Di-
rectors decided to build their bridge over the
river here with iron, and it is understood that
Messrs. Kellogg, Clarke & Co., of Phenix-
vile, Pa, are the contractors, who will fur
nish substantial 'tPratt Truss" bridge and
complete it, for about $4,000 The cost of
repairing piers and carrying them up about
ten or twelve feet higher, and completing the
approaches to the bridge will be about $50 900
additional Mr. George NJ. Patten of Bath,
one of the Directors, who has made iron
bridge construction a study, was appointed to
superintend the building Of the bridge, by
personal attention to it, until completed. The
work will be pushed forward promptly.
The following beautiful poem, which ap-
peared originally in the Bangor Wing, was
written by little daughter of Hon. Lewis
Barker of Stetson, niece of David Barker,
the favorite poet of Maine. The poem gives
evidence of genius
MOTHER AND CHILD.
BY EvvIE BARKER.
Beside her sleeping child mother knelt.
The evening breeze played with its silken
half,
Tossing it gently DER its brow. One hand,
(Rose- tinted, like a dainty sea shelly lay
Half hid beneath cheek where dimplcs slept,
Like drowsy watchers DER bed of smiles.
Wandering in drcamland, little knows the
babe
OF eyes that fill with tears gazing on her.
A mothers heart was made to yearn, and she
Who knows no moment when the tears within
Stand still before pain that is not pain
When cen the air is thick with prophecies
That leave their weight without their mean
ing when
God is a name, and Christ were a vain tale,
But that he had mother; when the sight
OF all the Calvaries along the road
Fills her whole soul with horror, and she
stands
Weeping before imagined sepulchres-
Holds but name, and claims an orphan child.
The mother pressed kiss upon the brow
OF the young dreamer; and her murmured
words
Mingled their sweetness with rare fragrances,
And lay upon the air. my precious babe,
Whose little life (half ravelled from my OWN
Holds in its double thread my better self
Made holer by thine !-fain would guard
The path that thou must tread--that l have
trod,
Shielding thee from all dangers and distress!
My own dark Swallowed years come marching
back,
Clanking their irons. Sounds from childhood
come
Like music heard DER daisied meadows soft
And green. feel anew the light and joy
OF lifes beginning In thy dawning life
My heart-that gave a part of its own force
To quicken thine to action-warms again
Beneath the early glow. My life has been
A shifting scene of sunlight and deep shade!
Yet there are hours, my child, whose treas
ured sweets,
Like lingering fragrance, fill my homeliest
day
With light and beauty. May thy cup be filed
With all thy mothers happiness added
To thine. Oh, God if such thing can be-
Let me draw from the future of my child
All bitterness-all knowledge of the bad
That rends the veil, and breaks the only dream
That is not haunted. Let me yield to her
All my lifes sunlight, and am content
To sit in darkness evermore." The babe,
Waking from rosy dreams, smiled at her
tears.