The Dallas daily herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1887, 1874-03-01
Written for the Dallas Herald
WANDERlNGS IN DREAMLAND.
~ MRS, FLORENCE Il, rIrKlN,-

UNBOlt WY y lNAulhilb w W. ''N' 49,
mcr lovelincss, and heard the voices Of
loved ones long since departed utter
ing again words of affection In my ear,
Often when the mystic spell of mid
night has wrapped the world In slum-
Der, have wandered IN dreams to the
home Of my birth-"thc place where
first saw the highland visited each
nook and corner TO memory dear. lis
then | roam again with my brother
and sister, us in childhood's sunny
years, in the garden Of the old home
stead, or sport beneath the shade of the
tall trees, rs they throw their broad
branches protectingly over the roof
which sheltered me in early years.
IT'S then that | hear again words of
admonitlon falling from the lips of my
reyered father, who, while
"'rhc mellow eve Is gliding
Scrcncly down the west"
and the Sabbath bells are calling to
evening worship, sits in the doorway
surrounded by his little household band.
Thus, while held by the magic sway of
dreams, would become once more the
innocent, happy child of other days,
"And my soul II would seem,
Womanhood's years have been all DREAM"
But with returning day comes the
awakening, the realization that | am
no longer child, but woman for
whom the past is beyond recall; and |
] feel that only the present is mine,
while the future lures me on with
promises and hopes of nobler aspira-
tons and higher achievements. Yet
who will say dreams are not bless
ing? What happy privilege to be
enabled to return to those "halycon
days. when our tongues were merry
and our hearts were light-those happy
days that crowned us, ere the sorrows
and cares Of maturer years had bur-
dened our hearts and brought a sadder
cadence to our voice.
But not only in slumber do our
thoughts travel to distant scenes; often
have | wandered in ebay dreams" to
the Old Worldto Italy, the far-famed
land of the arts and siences, and stand
ing in the Pantheon, viewed the great
men of other days presented by the
master hand of art, have beheld, pre-
scented in the marble statutes around
me, Dante, "the immortal poet with
energetic countenance Of nobly bitter
lineaments;n Michael Angelo, Raphael,
Gallileo, and many others of earth's
greatest artists, poets, thinkers ana
warriors. have wandered along the
banks of the waters of the blue Arno,
where green trees stand in gay luXuri-
ance among the elegant houses, the
splendid churches and palaces of the
city of Florence, where marble statues
forms of beauty and pensive thought
with stone porticoes and bridges, meet
the eve everywhere beneath the clear
blue vault of heaven. But imagination
does not permit me to larry long amid
these scenes so fair to behold, but leads
me on to ancient Rome, the center of
Italy, and ere long | am surrounded by
columns, triumphal arches, temples and
palaces-brOken, ruinous, yet grand
and beautiful with certain mourn
full, solemn beauty, Here, too, | see
the forum, where the Gracchi, those
first great tribunes of the people, spoke
in stirring accents for the rights of the
people. Then my eyes rest upon the
ruins of the capitol, where once the
eloouence of Cicero was heard falling
unon the ears OF the Roman senate,
and awakening in their hearts pa
triotic zeal for the true greatness OF
Rome. Well might one love TO linger
among scenes around which cluster so
man "reminiscences of ancient Rome,
as she was when she shone forth in her
pristine glory, mistress of the civilized
world-but onward am borne by the
train of imagination to the city of
Naples, where ] behold Mount Nesu-
vius, the giant of nature, crowned with
its column of smoke, sending forth
ever an anon its streams of burning
lava, threatening at times to sub
merge the fair city below. l feel
something resembling reverence and
dread, as / gaze upon this mon
arch of volcanoes, and listen to
the dull, thunder-like noise, which
at times sounds from his subterranean
realm. Yet, ere / give expression to
my feelings, my thoughts bound FOR
ward to scene more genial and bright,
and suddenly beautiful Venice, "the
bride of the sea-" bursts upon my
vision. TITS a lovely night in midsum-
mer, and the light of the radiant moon
beams upon temple and palace, gilt
ters upoii the waves of the canal upon
whose waters countless gondolas pass,
gliding to and fro, while the song OF
the gendolier is heard, mingling with
the soft notes of the guitar, or bursts OF
ripping laughter from pleasure
seekers.
"Surely," I exclaim, "nothing can
be more beautiful than moonlight
night in Venice!n The lovely scene
seems to act as an inspiration, for
even while 1 gaze entranced upon
it, my thoughts soar higher
and higher on the wings of fancy until
the sight of the jasper walls ant
pearly gates of the New jerusalem
the Eternal City, dawns upon my NOR
tai vision. / behold the great white
throne upon which the Omnipotenl
sits in the majesty of heaven. anc
.sol h. nf ifa Acatr,c