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Townsman. Who should lament for him, sir, in
whose heart Love had no place, nor natural charity ? The parlour spaniel, when she heard his step, Rose slowly from the hearth and stole aside With creeping pace; she never raised her eyes To woo kind word from him, nor laid her head Upraised upon his knee, with fondling whine. How could it be but thus ? Arithmetic Was the sole science he was ever taught; The mnltiplication table was his creed, His paternoster and his decalogue. When yet he was a boy, and should have breathed The open air and sunshine of the fields,
o give his blood its natural spring and play, He in a close and dusty counting house, Smoke-dried, and seared, and shrivelled up his heart. So from the way in which he was train'd up, His feet departed not; he toil'd and moil'd, Poor muckworm! through his threscore years and ten; And when the earth shall now be shovelled on him, If that which served him for a soul were still Within its husk, 'twould still be dirt to dirt.
Stranger. Yet your next newspaper will blazon him For industry and honourable wealth A bright example.
Townsman. Even half a million
I know his face is hid
Under the coffin lid;
My hand that marble felt;
O’er it in prayer I knelt;
I cannot make him d: 1!
When passing by his bed,
My spirit and my eye
Seek it inquiringly,
When at the cool, grey break
Of day from sleep I wake,
My soul goes up with joy,
To Him who gave my boy ; Then comes the sad thought that-he is not there!
When at the day's calm close,
Before we seek repose,
What'er I may be saying,
I am, in spirit, praying
Not there?-Where, then, is he?
The form I used to see
The grave that now doth press
Upon that cast off dress,
He lives !-in all the past
He lives ! nor to the last,
In dreams I see him now;
And on his angel brow,
Yes, we all live to God!
FATHER, thy chastening rod
That in the spirit land,
Meeting at thy right hand, 'Twill be our heaven to find that-he is there !
BY JOHN PIERPONT.
I cannot make him dead !
His fair sunshiny head Is ever bounding round my study chair ;
Yet when my eyes, now dim
With tears, I turn to him, The vision vanishes-he is not there!
BY RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH.
I walk my parlor floor,
And, through the open door,
I'm stepping toward the hall,
To give the boy a call;
I thread the crowded street :
A satchel'd lad I meet With the same beaming eyes and colored hair ;
And, as he's running by,
Follow him with my eye, Scarcely believing that-he is not there !
A dewdrop falling on the wild sea wave,
BY CHARLES F. BRIGGS
A COMMISSION OF LUNACY.
to swathe me in wet sheets. Him, too, I drove from my presence, the lunatic.
Yet these are the men
who come here to swear to my insanity. Ah, genI was once called to decide upon the case of a per- tlemen, I am not mad, but I wonder that I am not. son who was thought by his friends to be insane. The combined powers have taken away my Bessy He had been sent to a mad-house, and in one of his and my little boy, and I shall never, never, never see lucid intervals had demanded a trial of the county
Never." judge, and a trial was granted. A jury of six men,
It was a perfectly clear case of lunacy, and a pitiof whom I was one, were to decide upon his case. able one. But when we retired to the jury-room, one He was a healthy looking gentleman, with nothing of the jurors would not agree with the other five. unusual in his appearance excepting a restlessness He stretched himself upon a bench, threw a handof his eyes, which might not have been observed had kerchief over his head, and requested us to wake him he not been accused of insanity. The proofs of his
when we had come over to his way of thinking. madness were very clear, but he showed so much for myself, I was not disposed to be bullied out of coolness and clear thinking in his cross-questioning my opinion, so I too lay down upon a bench, deter. of witnesses, that I felt some hesitation in pronounc- mined not to yield an inch of my right to think for ing him unsound of mind. His case was a very sad myself, and in a few minutes sell fast asleep; but I one, and he melted the hearts of all who heard him had better have kept awake, for the moment that when he appealed to the jury.
my eyelids fell, I had to perform the part of a jucor " I deny that I am insane, gentlemen,” he said, again. when the Judge gave him leave to speak, " but that It was the same ill-lighted room, the same dull is a matter of course. No man ever thought himself Judge who slept through half the trial, the same insane; neither can any man ever think himself so; clownish spectators, the same everything, except the for, having no standard of soundness but what exists defendant, who yet seemed to be the same person in in his own mind, he cannot be unsound to himself, a different habit. though he may be manifestly so in the mind of ano- He was a good looking youth; indeed, I have never ther. But who shall determine what is madness seen a finer ; his dark chesnut hair and sandy beard and what is not? Be careful, gentlemen, how you were equal to a patent of nobility, for they proclaim. pronounce me mad, lest to-morrow I be called to pro-ed his Saxon blood, and proved him of a race that nounce you so. The proofs that have been offered to came upon the earth to conquer it. His eyes were you of my madness, are to me proofs of entire sound-gray and his complexion fair. But, poor man! he ness of mind. I would be mad were I anything dif- was out of his mind. His father was a merchant, ferent from what I have been represented. They and he wept while he gave evidence to his son's inhave brought three physicians, who all say that I sanity. He, the son, would wear his beard. and this am mad. Yet I will compel you to admit that the was the proof of his madness. In spite of the jeers, madness is in them and not in me. I was sick, very
the sneers, and the laughter of the world, he would sick, sick at heart, for you must know that I had lost let his beard grow as nature intended. Poor fellow! my Bessy and my little boy-my little boy.” Here We all pitied him. So intelligent, so gentle in his the unfortunate hesitated and seemed to lose him. manners, so happily circumstanced, and yet mad! self entirely. “I said that I was sick, but it was He had the hardihood to declare in open court, that Bessy. But it inust have been me. Yes, I was he saw no reason why he should deprive his face of sick, very sick, sick at heart, for my little boy and the covering which God had put upon it. Bessy. Bessy again. Yes, Bessy had been sick, but " No reason,” cried his mother, “0, my son, does now it was I. I was sick, and they brought me a not your father shave, your uncle, your brother, all physician. He felt my pulse, he looked upon me the world shave but yourself? No reason for shav. with his cold gray eyes, and then reached me a ing? O! my son!” tumbler half full of a nauseous liquid, which he said " True,” replied the unfortunate youth, as he would quiet me, and do me good. But all the while stroked his beard with ineffable content, “ true, but I was quieter than a rock, and colder, and harder. I they are all mad or they would not.
I need my thought that he needed the stuff more than myself, beard to protect my face and throat from the wet and so I caught his head between my knees, and though cold. It helps to hide the sharp angles of my jaws, he struggled hard, yet I poured it down his throat, it makes me more comely, adds to my strength, and gentlemen, and he was glad enough to escape. Then keeps me in health. Do I not look more like a man they brought another to me, who gave me a little than my father, with his smooth, pale face, who has globule of sugar, a pin's head was a cannon ball be nothing but his clothes to distinguish him from a side it, and told me that it would cure my fever. Do woman? Look at him; he has scraped all the hair you blame me for thrusting the madman out of my off his chin, and placed another man's hair on his head. chamber? Then they brought me another, who Beautiful consistency. To shave
chin and put would give me no medicine at all, but ordered them false hair on his head! What a mad outrage upon
nature. Hair is not always necessary to the head, I me to this dreadful alternative,” said the old man for it often falls off as we grow old, but it never after he had been sworn. “ My poor son has been drops from the chin. I appeal to this honorable afflicted with his disorder for two years. We have court-"
tried all gentle means to cure him, but he grows - Silence !” cried the honorable court, who at that worse and worse. The proofs of his madness are so moment woke up.
glaring that he cannot be kept from the mad-house. Justice never sleeps, excepting on the bench,” | He is now in his twenty-fifth year; he has had a good observed the youth, in a low voice.
education, the best that money could procure; he has « Go on,” said the honorable court, whose busi. made the tour of Europe ; he has had all the advanness, when out of court, was horse dealing, which tages which my extensive business connections could fitted him in an eminent degree for the responsibili- give him, and yet, gentlemen, regardless of my ties of his office.
wishes, and his own welfare, he has married a poor “ I appeal to this honorable court,” continued the young woman, and gone to bury his splendid ac. insane yonth, “ I appeal to you, gentlemen of the complishments on a farm. Is it not dreadful, gentle. jury, and I would, if I were permitted, appeal to men, to witness such a sacrifice? I offered him a these fair ladies (there were several old gossips in share in my business, I proposed to establish him the room) to say whether I am not more sane than in a splendid distillery, but such was the poor creamy father.”
ture's derangement of intellect that even this bril. "I can't allow such audacious remarks as those in liant offer could not draw him from the obscurity of this place," said the honorable court, rising and the country. Look at his dress. gentlemen; if the wiping its honorable face with a dingy handkerchief. court please, is not that prima facie evidence of his * This thing mus'n't proceed no further. I don't insanity ?'' know, gentlemen of the jury, as I have ever been The court thought it was, but would not give a more seriously affected in my life, than I have been decided opinion without first looking into somebody's by this melancholy trial.”
reports. « Probably not,” said the maniac.
“ Look at him, gentlemen, would anybody believe • The court will allow no interruption from no that he was the son of a rich merchant ? That disone,” said the honorable court, fixing its dreadfully graceful blouse, like a common laborer's. That stern eyes on the madman, and stretching out its coarse straw hat ! O, gentlemen, pardon a father's stumpy fore-finger in a threatening manner. " My weakness! I can say no more.” heart has been melted by the scene we have wit- The mother of the insane man appeared next, but nessed."
her distress was too great to admit of her giving “ A very little heat will melt ice,” said the mad her evidence in a straight forward manner. youth.
She believed her son to be crazy.
Had first sus. My feelings is too much for me to proceed,” con-pected it on his return from Paris, on account of his tinued the honorable court, “I resign the case into plain clothes; he had left off coffee and tea, and your hands, gentlemen of the jury, only remarking drank nothing but cold water ; he talked strangely that the young man is mad, and so you must give in about the country ; quite unlike her other children, your " werdick."
who were sond of style, and lived respectably; insanThe poor youth was immediately put into a strait- ity not peculiar to the family; was not influenced by jacket and dragged away, yet he still seemed to her husband; had seen her son laugh with the coachstand at the bar, but his appearance was changed. man; had opposed his marriage; thought it a decidHe wore a broad-brimmed hat made of oaten straw, ed proof of insanity to marry out of one's own cir. a linen blouse which reached below his knees, and a cle; had been the first to propose sending her son to shirt of snowy whiteness open at the throat, so that the insane retreat. his manly neck was fully exposed. His complexion After the witnesses delivered their testimony, the was brown, bis eye clear and bright, his laughing court told the maniac that he might address the jury. mouth displayed teeth of a pearly lustre, and he ap- « I have nothing to say in regard to the testimopeared to receive great pleasure in snuffing the fra- ny,” said the youth « but that it is all true. I pregrance of a bunch of field flowers which he held in fer the sweets of a country life to the bitter toils of his hand. I thought, as I looked at him, that I had business. I have a wife whom I love; she brought never seen a youth who bore so many marks of un- me no fortune, it is true, but she helps me daily to equivocal soundness of mind and body. But he was
I have a little farm which yields more mad, notwithstanding all. His own father was the than I need; I have good health, a quiet conscience, first witness examined. Poor old man! he could and two lovely children whose minds and bodies I hardly articulate the words which a sense of duty to am striving to rear in conformity with the dictates his child compelled him to utter.
of nature. For these I prefer a moderate fortune in · Nothing but a hope that judicious medical treat- the country to an immoderate one in the city. Bement may restore my son to his senses, could induce sides I look upon the judgment pronounced upon
Adam in the light of a command, and I was never happy until the sweat of my own brow seasoned my daily food.”
The jury pronounced him mad without leaving their seats.
66 A righteous werdick!” said the honorable court.
He was led from the court-room, and yet he still stood there, such are the inconsistencies of dreams.
He was now dressed in rusty clothes; his countenance was subdued by thought; he was unhappy but not uneasy; his eyes were cast down, his lips were more closely pressed together, and the vigorous look of youth was changed for a gravity of demeanor that sat upon him well, though it seemed too grave for his years.
There was literally a cloud of witnesses to his insanity. He had been heard to pity a condemned felon; he had said irreverent things of the law; he had spoken against the clergy; he had abused physic; he had given his money to vagabonds; he laughed at the fashions; he had cried at a wedding; he was opposed to war; he had been struck without returning the blow; he had pitied a slaveholder; he had- But the jury would hear no more. They pronounced him mad with one voice. All Bedlam seemed now broken loose.
No sooner was one maniac pronounced upon than another occu. pied the stand. The obscure little court-room began to look like the ante-room of the revolutionary tribunal. To expedite business a whole lot of raniacs were put up together and judged in a lump.
One was a young girl of eighteen who had married her father's poor clerk whom she loved, when she might have married her father's rich partner whose money her friends loved; a Wall-street broker who had refused usury on a note; a grocer who had recommended a customer not to buy his sugar because he could buy cheaper elsewhere; a man who corrected a post office error when his letter had been undercharged; a political orator who had refused an office because he did not think himself entitled to one ; a lawyer who refused to advocate the cause of a rogue on the pretence of conscientious scruples; a critic who doubted his own infallibility; a lieutenant of marines who gave up his commission and earned his bread by his own labor; an editor of a newspaper who had never called names; an English traveller without national prejudices; a midshipman who never damned the service; an artist who painted from nature ; an author who was satisfied with a review of his book; a young lady who was offended at being told that she was pretty; a poet who considered himself inferior to Shakspeare. These were all pronounced mad. But the noise of their removal woke me, and finding that the other jurors had gone over to the one who was for rendering a vedict of not insane, I too, instructed by my dream, concluded to coincide with them, lest I should establish a precedent by which I might at some future day be pronounced mad myself.
VII, Down in the wave below, Health's cheek, with ruddy glow,
Blooms like a girl'sPressed to the waters down, See the lips meet her own, While on the breezes blown,
Blend their soft curls.
Life and its cares;
Sorrow is theirs.
Some of thy mournfulness serene,
Put in this scrip of mine, -
Oh sweetly mournful pine.
Give me, my cheerful brook,-
In some neglected nook.
But good bye kind friends, every one,
I've far to go, ere sets the sun;
And so my journey's scarce begun.
Some of thy modesty,
Oh give, to strengthen me.
IX. Children of bitter wo, Come to the waters !-ho!
Come, mourners, come! Come ye where pleasures swim Round the Spring's grassy brimFly from the demon grim,
Couched in the Rum!
Where the Spring flows; Nature smiles sweetly thereFlowers scent the summer airAnd the dull fiend of care
Flies with his woes.
BY. L. E. L.
The moon is sailing o'er the sky,
But lonely all, as if she pined For somewhat of companionship,
And felt it were in vain she shined :
BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
Earth is her mirror, and the stars
Are as the court around her throne ; She is a beauty and a queen,
But what is this? she is alone.
Is there not one-not one-to share
Thy glorious royalty on high ? I cannot choose but pity thee
Thou lovely orphan of the sky.
A beggar through the world am I,
Old oak, give me,
And firm-set roots unmoved be.
That I may keep at bay
the strong tide of circumstance,Give me, old granite gray.
I'd rather be the meanest flower
That grows, my mother earth, on thee, So there were others of my kin
To blossom, bloom, droop, die with me.
Earth, thou hast sorrow, grief, and death ; But with these better could I bear,
reach and rule yon radiant sphere, And be a solitary there.