Year: 1871

tremors that shook me in church


when the minister made the old sound
ing board echo with, 'tMark you


miserable sinners, there is nothing
hidden that shall not be made mani
fest" and the terrible consciousness!


with which 1 heard him warn sinner!
of the crime of ambition, fancyins
his eyes resting on me, as if were /;
small Wolsey or Lucifer. Had moth
er found it when it. was concealed II
the dictionary? No, glance at her
sleeping quietly in the corner of the
| pew, reassured me; she would never
betray me. The postmaster he haG
opened the letter, and told the minis
dterJ i was undonel


"But these were the darker shad-
ings of the picture; brighter tint:
were not wanting. Were not the
darkness and doubts of my future
life sometimes spanned by the bril-
liant rainbow of assured success p
And when, standing underneath that
beautiful arch that spanned my heaven
what dreams did not dream Stand
ing beneath it, did say Nay, did
not tread its glowing pathway up
ward to its highest attitude, and look
down upon the world lying beneath
my feetr What a wonderful poet /
would be; nay, was already, though
for brief season unknown. But
when emerged from my obscurity,
like the sun from the clouds, what a
brilliant light l would shed l.; an over
powering, searching light; and still it
should be lambent. In my greatness
1 would not forget to be kind and
considerate to my parents and older
relatives. And my playmates, 1
would look benignantly on them !;
though the valued companion and So
lace of crowned heads, still my form
er companions should never find me
wanting in benignancy aud dignified
thoughtfulness toward them. Posi-
bly, l might present each of them with
my most popular and wonderful book,
with my own name written in it by
myself, and not by confidential secre-
tary. My enormous wealth, too,
should enrich the deserving poor; L
would even be generous and magnan-
imous; L would erect near the old
homestead an elegant villa, renting it
telt above me, and derided me by vir-
tue of his eighteen years, his cane,
his elaborate neclitie, and his one year
in college. And the father OF the
pretty girl should say, with grateful
tears, when in manly way asked
his consent to pay my addresses to
his daughter, "This is the happiest
hour of my life; take my beautiful
daughter and be happy"


1.-TWO weeks of these violent alter
nations of feelings, this mingled light
and shade, passed away, when paper
came, with my name upon the outside,
and bearing on the post-mark the
name OF the village to which 1 had
sent the poem; aud, while the con.
hicting emotions of the past two
weeks seemed to concentrate and con-
dense their gloomy vapors and light
ming glories into the whirlwind that
shock my soul, I Iopened the paper and
read as follows =


CA writer, evidently in the callow
state of boyhood, has sent US sheet
of manuscript, evidently intended for
poetry, but which has no clement in
it-no slightest trace or shadow of
either truth or poetry. The divine
fame of poetry cannot be kindled from
such materials green wood, as
you may say but, as firm and devo-
led adherent to the divine cause of
truth we have made few changes in
it, and, with those improvements,
which we have taken the trouble to
make, we consent, as favor to the
author to publish it. And if there
is anything else we can do to assist or
encourage the writer, we are willing
to do it; were on e young boy our
self. > EDITOR.


WOMEN.


Americans, our land is fair,


And smileth beauteously;


But woman is our gift most rare,


Oh fallen angel she


When waves of doubt and fear arise,


And fill mems life-cup full,


She sells him-o'er his aching eyes


She softly pulls the wool.


She lures his steps from peace away,


Where streams of money flows,
And with gentle constancy,


She leads him by the nose.


Her sore destruction tears his breast,


And sheds steady light;


She will not give him any rest


She scolds him half the night


"Many years have passed since
then, Jessie bat remember every
word of the critique and shall proba-
bly, maintain the memory as I am sem
sible of any burden that l carry"


''It was too bad, Ulysses" said L.


cit was great trial to me then;
but since, have felt assured it was
for the best. 1 was not a poet, al
though at the time 1 thought [ was.
But this sudden shock shook the
thought out Of me, and convinced me,
as the mild reasoning of friends and
parental authority would have been
powerless TO-, that 1 was no poet. Had
It not been for that, might have lin
gered along for years without discov-
ering it. You know some don't find
it out for a great while; not till alter
they have written a great many YER
ses; probably should myself have
written large quantity. Doubtless
that shock, painful as it was to endure,
spared the world and me a great deal
of weariness."


Just at this moment the clock on
the mantle struck seven, and Ulysses
looked at his watch, and said that he