The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1883-11-04


A workingman sends us the following &C.
count OF his own experience as to the ef-
feet OF poetry on his own life. Its only re.
commentator, he remarks, is its strict and
literal truth:
"Is the poetic sensibility really gain I? y
You ask the question; let me give briel
and plain review Of my own experience
during my apprenticeship to life. | was
born north Of the Tweed. Death too soon
appeared in my home, and was cast out on
what found 70 be cherries and callous
world. / began to question fate, and
wondered why my lot should be so hard.
became fond Of solitude. did not dream
Of the future. could see nothing beyond
the cruel present. with its daily deadening
drudgery. But there came a change. i
was on INV way one clear and sharp win
ter night 10 my lonely garnet lodging, when
paused on the bridge across which had
to pass. | passed over the parapet, and
was gazing down on the black depths be-
low, when suddenly experienced a men
tai change which altered the whole current
Of my being. / could not account for 1t
nor analyze il then. and capnOt 90 so now (;
but there il was. A wide vista OF hope
and possibility was spread ont before me.
| seemed in an instant TO have entered on
a Hew and nobler stage OF life. l had sud-
denly awakened to q new perception OF the
beautiful, although the light was yet dim.
About this time ] found companion
who was fond OF books. He took me often
home with him, and we spent the evenings
in reading Burns, aud Byron, and Scott:
Byron was the iavorlte. We never tired
4 ~ q. Cab
Pollock's "Course OF Time" forgotten
though both be nowadays, our youthful
minds found numerous passages which
pleased. Summer came and began 10 us
cover in my walks many OF the beauties OF
nature about which the poet sang. In the
lrees and flowers, the gray hills and green
valleys, the simple hamlets, with their blue
smoke curling upwards in the cleaning,
the rising and setting sun. experienced
an inexpressible pleasure which had never
known before. On Sundays l sought the
country more and the kirk less. The har-
monies which a slight breeze stirred in the
fir woods near my home were TO me far
sweeter than the strains OF the well-trained
choir in the old cathedral. 1t was at this
stage that my love Of descriptive poetry
was strongest. The Prisoner OF Chiilon
and the Death OF Haidee had far more at
fractions then than In Memoriam. The
years slipped away and the inevitable
changes followed in their train. Fortune
Dreamed that / should visit foreign lands.
And what Joy then my acquired tastes gave
me. shall never forget the day spent at
the waterfall in the island OF Penang-than
which spot there Is not q more beautiful Ill
this beautiful woodworking in the
wealth OF tropical scenery which there
abounds. And nearing Singapore, how
truly felt did Tennyson's lines describe
the scene" Summer isles OF Eden lying
in dark purple spheres Of sea-" Then and
ever afterwards | thanked God with all my
heart that had learned to read and appre-
ciate poetry.
several years Of quiet life on an island in
the far East increased tenfold my "poetic
sensibility." What to many men would
have been simple Punishment only afforded
me an excellent opportunity OF getting ac-
Quainted with the works OF most OF the
men who have made English poetry what
it is. As my knowledge OF their writings
widened, my sympathies with all mankind
were quickened. saw hundreds OF times
brutes in human shape from this old Eng
land OF ours kick and cuff the helpless
Orientals, and my blood boiled. IretuIned
10 my native land with deeper experience
of life, and a greater desire to do what l
could TO lessen the sutlerings OF some who
bear so much. / walk through the streets
Of this mighty metropolis sometimes, and
call it weakness and urmanly If you will
the tears start to my eyes at the scenes i
see. II was poetry that opened my eyes 10
these things, and many more beside.
think were II only possible TO get some Of
he poor creatures that throng our tho
roughfares and teach them to see some
hing Of the beauties Of nature, what Diff
terent men and woman they would become.
| have little time TO read poetry now.
Twelve hours per day Of hard work leave
40 leisure for the cultivation OF the mind.
| But thank Heaven / have good memory.
| And amid all the hustle and worry with
| which have TO contend, l often recall a
verse or picture from some Of my favor
! lite authors, which makes the wheels Of ex-
istence run far more smoothly than they
would otherwise do. No man can truly
love poetry and the beautiful in the mate
rial and moral worlds without beng the
better for 1t. Life is worth living and Do
etry does more to brighten and ennoble II
than most persons suppose. Poetic sensi-
oility, then, hold, is " really gain"