Spirit of Jefferson. [volume] (Charles Town, Va. [W. Va.]) 1844-1948, 1888-07-31
SPIRIT OF JEFFERSON.
JEFFERSON coUsrr, W, Va.
TUESDAY MORNING, JULYs1, 1883.
Oanske cambridge.

We extract from literature Magazine the
following biography of the gifted au,horess,
whose name is found above:
Mrs Danske cambridge, the poetess, whose
writings have been so kindly yandappreciatiyely
noticed in the journals of the day, was born in
Copenhagen, Denmark, of American parentage.
Her father was the Hon. Henry Bedinger. of
Virginia. member of Congress for two terms
and for five years q. S. minister to Denmark !;
her mother. Caroline B. Lawrence. OF Long
Island. a granddaughter of Eliza Southgate
Bovine, whose letters on " Girls Life Eighty
Years Ago" were recently published in Scr1o-
neT''s Magazine.
In 1871 Miss Bedinger married Stephen Dan
bridge and settled near Shepherdstown. w. Va,
She was in poor circumstances and in i'll health
Living on small farm with few books or other
opportunities for culture. not even dictionary
being at her command. 1t was only about four
years ago that Mrs. cambridge began to write
verse; her first accepted poem, the "Chrysan-
themun," appearing in Godeys Lddy's Book
i'll 1885. After many discouragements she OBJ
tanned foot-hold on the Independent and other
periodicals. and her work soon became familiar
TO the eyes of readers and recognized for its
dainty sympathetic touch and grace. These
poems, with two new ones were collected and
published in book form by G: 7. Putnams
Sons in 1888, under the title "Joy and Other
Poems.'' Mrs. cambridge writes seldom, and
never except when feeling the need and help
of poetic expression. The peculiar musical
name Danske pronounced dnnsker) is the
The Boston Advertiser thus eloquently
launches the volume and its authoress upon the
sea of Literary Lite:"
"If thought of spring could materialiZe it
self into q book. it would take some such form
as this most exquisite and elflille little volume.
whose dainty covers come bringing suggestions
of springs sweetness and richness, in coloring
of tulip-crimson and the pale gold of prinl-
roses. The tiniest book-not big enough to
serve as a full-grown fairy's toilet tablet is
TOO small. almost, for the life and gladness
That overflow it
"Surely, whoever Danske cambridge may
he-and the name NAV belong to a brownie or
on midsummer eve and all her days has lived
in the sunny greenwood, and kept fairy com
pany. Her wee book proclaims her the very
laureate of elf-land; its songs might be Sung
hv Titauia herself. to the 'moonbeam-wired
dithole of one of its exquisite phrases. Never
once do four walls of mans building close
about the fitting spirit of her muse; nature
| she sings. and always nature; but never the
nature writ down 10y the book-men; hardly
nature through human eyes; rather nature as
| it is known to the nymph of the running water.
the fairy that sleeps in the lily-cup. the dryad
of the tree. One would need to speak fair
and fine like spirit. not to coarsen with his
praise verse exquisite and as evanescent rs
the frost-fowers on a wintry windowpane. II
| is as If tEoian harp took tOitself words and
sang. when one listens to such verse as this:
''Twas long ago: b..
The place was very fair.
| And from cloud of snow,
| A spirit of the air
| Sank to the earth below.
| 1t was n spot by man untrod;
| Just where.
| / think. is only known to God. r-
| The spirit. for awhile,
| Because of beauty, freshly made.
| Could only smile.
Then grew the smiling to a song,
| nd he he
Upon u moonbeam-wired citholc,
| Shaped like a soul.
| There was no ear
! Or far near.
| Save one small sparrow of the wood,
| That song 10 hear
| This, in a bOsky tree,
| Heard all. and understood
| AS much small sparrow could
By sympathy
| Humon passion. human sorrow. seem to
breathe in the song of this strange singer. but
| as the wistfu wonder of them might have
breatbed across the soul of Undine, when that
soul was but half awake. Who taught her
| such song? If one might dare guess, II
| would be that nature herself one night, in the
mOUn-haunted woods. taught this, her very
| child, what to sing. and how to sing she has
partly learned from Percy Shelley. But one
dares not even guess one may marvel and be
glad. lest the tiny book, like all fairy things
| questioned
! Vanish away with the morning mist,
Fude underground"