But the graveyard lies between, Mary, I'm very lonely now, Mary, For the poor make no new friends; Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary, When the trust in God had left my soul, And the kind look on your brow- I thank you for the patient smile I bless you for the pleasant word, When your heart was sad and soreO! I'm thankful you are gone, Mary, Where grief can't reach you more! I'm bidding you a long farewell, In the land I'm going to; They say there's bread and work for all, And the sun shines always there— But I'll not forget old Ireland, Were it fifty times as fair' And often in those grand old woods And my heart will travel back again And I'll think I see the little stile Where we sat side by side, And the springing corn, and the bright May morn When first you were my bride. ABSALOM.-By N. P. Willis. THE waters slept. Night's silvery vail hung low The reeds bent down the stream: the willow leaves For his estranged misguided Absalom! The proud bright being who had burst away In all his princely beauty, to defy, The heart that cherished him-for him he poured * * * * * The pall was settled. He who slept beneath, His helm was at his feet: his banner soiled With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid And left him with his ead. The King stood still "Alas my noble boy! that thou should'st die, Cold is thy brow my son! and I am chill As to my bosom I have tried to press thee How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp string, yearning to caress theeAnd hear thy sweet, my father,' from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom! The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the voice And life will pass me in the mantling blush, And oh! when I am stricken, and my heart Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, How will its love for thee, as I depart, Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token! It were so sweet amid death's gathering gloom To see thee, Absalom! 'And now farewell! 'tis hard to give thee up, With death so like a gentle slumber o'er thee; And thy dark sin-oh! I could drink the cup If from this woe its bitterness had won thee, May God have called thee like a wanderer home, My erring Absalom!" He covered up his face, and bowed himself A RACY STUMP SPEECH. FRIENDS and fellow-citizens, of this conflictuous community:-I'se riz to give you warnin', and make a political speech, and tell you what I'se gone to talk about and allude to-"now, I'd like to have you pay particular attention;" tas the preacher says, when the boys are pitchin' beans at his nose) I say a crisis has arrived:-the wheels of government is stopped; the rudder's unshipped;-the biler busted;and we're afloat and the river risin;-our glorious Ship of State, that like a bobtailed gander has so peacefully glided adown the current of time, has had its harmony disturbed; and is now driftin' with fearful rapidity towards the shoals and quicksands of disunion, threatenin' to bust everything into fiinders, and pick itself up in the end, a gone goslin.' Hearken no longer ye worthy denizens of Goose Hollow, Terrapin Neck, Possum Swamp, and adjacent regions, to the siren voice that whispers in your ear the too delusive sound of peace, peace;-for peace has sloped, and flowed to other lands:-or div to the depths of the mighty deep; or in the emphatic language of Tecumphsorun; care a "Gone flickerin through the frogs of other climes, or like the great Alexander, who at the battle of Hunker's Bill, in the agony of despair frantically shrieked out :-“O, gravy! peace has gone like my skule-boy days, and I don't (He was a whole hoss and team, sure.) Ladies and gentlemen: The great bird of American liberty has flown aloft, and soarin' on the wings of the aurore-borealis, is now hoverin' high o'er the cloud-capped peaks of the Rockagany mountains:-and when he shall have penetrated into the unknown regions of unlimited space," and then shall have stooped down, and lit on daddy's wood-pile; I shall be led to exclaim in the language of Paul, the hosler, pork, or die." root Fellow-citizens, and gals too: In our halls of legislation, G confusion runs riot and anarchy reigns supremest; rise up, then, like pokers in a tater-patch, and fall into ranks; sound the tocsin, blow the drum, and beat the tin-horn-till, the startled echoes, reverberatin' from hill-top to hifl-top, and from gopher-hill to gopher-hill, shall reach the adamantine hills of New England, and the ferruginious disporitions of Missouri, and the auriferous particles of California, to pick up their ears, and in whispered accents, inquire of her valors: "what's out. Feller-citizens and the wimmin: I repeat it, to your posts, and from the top-most peak of the Ozark Mountains bid defiance to the hull earth, by hollerin “who's afeard,” in such thunderin' tones, that quakin with fear, you'll forget what danger is. Don your rusty regimentals, and wipe the flints of your old guns; beat up your scythes and make swords of them, put on your huntin' shirts, mount your hosses, and "save the nation, or bust." My dear hearers, and the rest of the boys; time's critical--and every man that's got a soul as big as the white of a "culled pusson' n's" eye, will fight, bleed, and die for his country. Thems the times you want men in the council of the nation you can depend on-that's me-elect me to Congress, and I'll stick to you through thick and thin, like a lean tick to a nigger's shin. You all know me, I've been fotched up among ye;—already, on the wings of top-lifted imagination, I fancy I can see you marching up to the polls in solid phalanx, and with shouts that make the earth ring. Hurrah! for Jim Smith; come down on my opponent like a thousand of brick on a rotten pumkin. But, my devoted constituency, I'm not going to make an electioneerin' speech, I'd scorn the act from the lowest depths of my watch fob,--words are inadequate to fully portray my feelings towards you, and my love for office. All I ask is your votes, and leave everything else with the people;concluding in the touchin' words of that glorious old martyr in the wax figger bizness;-"Be virtuous and you'll be happy." |