The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1885-10-10

am aware that | venture upon dan
gerous ground indeed when l attempt
to create hero out of quiet unknown
soul whose conservative habits forbade
him the love and confidence of all but
select few and whose inveterate mod
esty hindered his progress towards the
heights of notoriety very greatly; and
| have said before that the genius and
talents of Phineas Owens would only
be recognized in the little world of his
own building, because neither Benny
or l think his literary work to have been
extraordinarily meritorious, but, still,
not commonplace and we'll worthy
nook besides the efforts of better known
dreamers whom that other great world
in general has condescended to flatter
and crown.
No, Phineas Owens has. only written
what a great many more like and I'M
like him could have written just as well,
perhaps better, but great many more
like and unlike him have not done so
and he deserves the credit for having
said these little things in his own quaint
and homely way,-a way to which is
attached a peculiar charm and oddly
always found iii the thought of man
who has a head full OF good common
sense, reason, philosophy, and informa-
ton concerning things past and pres
ent
do not want to eXalt him too high !;
and, besides, | have not the title of
Poet-taster which | have applied to him
will serve to place him on lower level
than even | intended. Poet-tasters are
class Of poor mortals, thinks Edmond
Stedman, who are an eternal disgrace
to the profession of literature and fol-
lowers of an ignoble craft indeed, I'M
less they be born with power to ascend
and enlarge and drop the EASTER por-
ton of their appelation to become full
hedged members of the divine choir:
So you see l have set him down in so
low a niche that ! needs must use com.
pliments as sort of block and-tackle
substitute for lifting him up a little
higher in our estimation and love.
There are many such in the world,
who, alas, find no gentle biographer when
their Intellectual race is run who is will
ing to tell the truth about them. Many
such indeed jostle up against us from
day to day as time winds away. Their
natures are loving and sympathetic and
therefore they do their share of good
among the human class; glad enough
for the privilege of even Thinking
highly, building castles, dreaming, and
longing with approaching arms and hearts
for conquests in the work allotted
them.
| am a deserter from the ranks OF
such myself and can therefore feel a
deal of pity for my sisters and brothers
in the individual world making bust
ness. These pass my sanctum windows
daily, hourly, large-eyed, thoughtful
girls lean faced, earnest boys, soon to
be men and women, yearning for fame
and distinction; but not selfishly, not
for the benefits such things would be
to them, but for the calmly gliding
stream of inward satisfaction and hal
lowed gladness that courses through one
when quiet "thank you, and God
bless you % is dropped in ones ears.
That is hero, and that is a heroine,
maybe not SO publicly and universally
loyed as George Washington and Joan
de Arc, but all the same, noble and re-
fined and worthy tear and mention
in the newspapers whey they lay down
YEARLY to rest forever, after the last
song, the threnody of the dying swan,
| hoe porcaJ thar lin. and tho Lin, H., L., -,